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THE WORKS
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
THE WORKS
BEAUMONT & FLETCHER;
THE TEXT FORMED FROM A NEW COLLATION OF THE EARLY EDITIONS.
miiti) iaotes
AND A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR
BY
THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
IN ELEVEN VOLUMES.
VOL. IX.
BEGGARS' BUSU. j THE MAID IN THE MILL.
LOVE'S CURE. I A AVIFE FOR A MONTH.
RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A AVIFE.
513S72
LONDON : EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
MDCCCXLV.
LONDON : BKADBl'RY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
PR
BEGGARS' BUSH.
VOL. IX.
Beagars Bush. In the folios 1647, VJ19. The second folio adds " A Comedy."
The Beggars Bush. Wrilten bt/ Francis Bcavmont, 1
And > Gentlemen.
John Fletcher, J You may speedily expect those other Playes, which Kirkman and his Hatchers have deceived the buyers withall, selling them at treble the value, that this and the rest will be sold/or, which are the onely Originall and corrected copies, as they were first purchased by us at no mean rate, and since printed by us. London, Printed for Humphrey Robinson, and Anne Mosely, at the three Pigeons, and at the Princes Arms in Saint Pauls Church-yard, 1661. 4to,— is a re- print of The Beggars' Bush from the first folio, with a very few trivial variations, and with the addition of the Dramatis Personce. At tlie end of this 4to we find " The Prologue " and " The Epilogue", which, in fact, belong to The Captain : in the first folio they occupy the leaf before The Beggars' Bush ; and hence the editor or printer of the 4to supposed that they belonged to the latter play.
Ok this comedy Fletcher may certainly l)e regarded as the soleaiithor ; and, as we learn that it was performed at court during Christmas 1622, "upon St. Johns daye at night by the kings players" (see Malorie's Shakespeare hy Boswell, iii. 14G), we may conclude that it had been originally acted, and with success, during the course of that year.
A droll taken from Beggar s Bush, and entitled The Lame Covimon- wealth, which was played during the suppression of the theatres, may be found in Kirkman's collection, The Wits, or Sport upon Sport, Part First, 1672, p. 28 (see vol. i. 200 of the present work). After the Restoration, Beggars Bush was a popular comedy. Three alterations of it have, at different times, been produced, viz. TIte Royal Merchant, or. The Beggar s Bush, by H. N. (supposed to be Henry Norris the comedian), ]706, — a piece which I have not seen : Baker, in The Companion to the Play-house, 1764, mentions that it "is now frequently performed." The Royal Merchant : an Opera. Founded on Beaumont and Fletcher. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden (hy Thomas Hull the actor), 1768. The Merchant of Bruges ; or. Beggars Bush ; with considerable alterations and additions by the Honourable Douglas Kinnaird, was brought out at Drury-lane Theatre in 1815, and had a run of many nights, Kean, who played Florez, l)cing then a great attraction.
B 2
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
WoLFORT, usurper of the earldom of Flanders.
Hemskirk, a captain under him.
Hubert, a nobleman.
Herman, a courtier.
Florez, the rightful Earl of Flanders ; a supposed merchant, under the name of Goswin.
Gerrard, a gentleman, father to Florez" by the deceased Countess of Flanders ; disguised as a beggar, under the name of Clause.
Arnold, a nobleman, disguised as a beggar, under the name of Ginks,
CosTiN, a nobleman, disgiused as a
HiGGEN,
Ferret'',
Prig,
Snap, i
and others, -^
Vandunk, burgomaster of Bruges.
Vanlock, a merchant.
Merchants.
Boors.
A Sailor, Soldiers, Attendants.
Bertha, daughter to the Duke of Brabant ; supposed daughter to Van- dunk, and niece to Hemskirk, under the name of Gertrude.
Jacqueline, daughter to Gerrard ; disguised as a beggar, under the name of Minche.
Margaret, wife to Vandunk.
Frances, daughter to Vanlock.
Scene — Btcring paH of the first act, Ghent; afterwards, Bruges and the neighbourhood.
'^ father to Florez} In the Dj-oto. P««. of the second folio Gerrard is called " father-in- law to Florez", — an error noticed by Mason, who was not aware that in the list prefixed to the 4to he is rightly termed "father to Florez." The first folio has no Dram. Pers.
b Fcrrefi In the Dram. Pers. of the second folio is described as "a gentleman disguised" : but in the list prefixed to the 4to he is rightly ranked among the real beggars.
BEGGARS' BUSH.
ACT I.
SCENE I.— Ghent.— Before the palace of Wolfort.
Enter a Merchant and Herman.
Mei'. Is he, then, taken ?
Her. And brought back even now, sir.
Mer. He was not in disgrace ?
Her. No man more lov\l. Nor more deserved it, being the only man That durst be honest in this court.
Mer. Indeed, We have heard abroad, sir, that the state hath suffered A great change, since the countess' death.
Her. It hath, sir.
Mer. My five years' absence hath kept me a stranger So much to all the occurrents of my comitrj^. As you shall bind me » for some short relation. To make me understand the present times.
Her. I must begin, then, with a war Avas made, And seven years with all cruelty continu'd, Upon our Flanders by the Duke of Brabant. The cause grew thus : during our earl's minorit}^, Wolfort, who now usurps, was employ'd thither, To treat about a match l)ctweeu our carl
* b'nul im\ " i. e. oblige me." Webkr.
6 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act i.
And the daughter and heir of Brabant : during which treaty,
The Brabander pretends, this daughter was
Stohi from his court by practice i' of oiu- state ;
Though we are all confirmed "= 'twas a sought quarrel.
To lay an unjust gripe upon this earldom.
It being here behev'd the Duke of Brabant
Had no such loss. This wai' upon 't proclaim' d,
Oiu^ earl being then a child, although his father
Good Gerrard liv'd, yet (in respect he was
Chosen by the countess' favour for her husband.
And but a gentleman, and Florez holding
His right unto this country from his mother)
The state thought fit in this defensive war,
Wolfort being then the only man of mark,
To make him general.
Mer. Which place we have heard He did discharge with honom-.
Her. Ay, so long, And with so blest successes, that the Brabander Was forc'd (his treasm-es wasted, and the choice Of his best men of arms tir'd or cut off) To leave the field, and soimd a base retreat Back to his country : but so broken, both In mind and means, e'er to make head again. That hitherto he sits down by his loss. Not daring, or for honour or revenge, Again to tempt his fortune. But this victory More broke our state, and made a deeper hm-t In Flanders, than the greatest overthrow She ever received ; for Wolfort, now beholding HimseK and actions in the flattering glass Of self-deservings, and that cherish'd by The strong assm*ance of his power, for then AU captains of the army were his creatures. The common soldier too at his devotion, Made so by full indulgence to their rapines.
•> practice] i. e. artful contrivance, stratagem. <" confirm'd] " i. e. convinced." Webek.
SCENE II.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 7
And secret bounties ; this strength too well knoAvn,
And wliat it could effect soon put in practice,
As fm-ther'd by the childhood of the earl,
And their improvidence that might have pierc'd
The heart of his designs, gave him occasion
To seize the whole : and in that plight you find it.
Mer. Sir, I receive the knowledge of thus much, As a choice favour from you.
Her. Only I must add, Bruges holds out.
Mer. Whither, sn, I am going; For there last night I had a ship put in, And my horse waits me.
Her. I wish you a good jomniey. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE II. — The same. — An apartment in the palace of
WOLFORT.
Enter AVolfort, Hubert, and Attendants.
Wol. What ! Hubert stealing from me ! — Who disarmed him? It was more than I commanded. — Take your sword ; I am best guarded Avitli it in your hand ; I have seen you use it nobly.
Hub. And Avill tm-n it On mine own bosom, ere it shall be di'awn Unworthily or rudely.
Wol. Would you leave me Without a farewell, Hubert ? fly a friend Unwearied in his study to advance you ? What have I e'er possess'd whicli was not yours ? Or rather '^ did not com't you to command it ? Who ever yet arriv'd to any grace. Reward, or trust from me, but his approaches Were by youi' fair reports of him preferr'd ? And what is more, I made myself your servant. In making you the master of those secrets
"i ratJiev] The correction of the Editors of 1778 (in which they were anti- cipated by Heath, MS. Notes). — Old eds. " either " ; and so Seward.
8 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act i
Which not the rack of conscience could draw from me_,
Nor I, when I ask^d mercy, trust my prayers with :
Yet, after these assurances of love,
These ties and bonds of friendship, to forsake me !
Forsake me as an enemy ! Come, you must
Give me a reason.
Hub. Sir, and so I will ; If I may do't in private, and you hear it.
Wol. All leave the room. [Exeunt Attendants.
You have your will : sit down. And use the liberty of our first friendship.
Hub. Friendship ! when you prov'd traitor first, thatvanish'd; Nor do I owe you any thought but hate. I know my flight hath forfeited my head ; And, so I may make you first imderstand Wliat a strange monster you have made yourself, I welcome it.
Wol. To me this is strange language.
Hub. To you ! why, what are you ?
Wol. Your prince and master, The Earl of Flanders.
Hub. By a proper title ! Rais'd to it by cunning, circumvention, force. Blood, and proscriptions !
Wol. And in all this, wisdom : Had I not reason, when, by Gerrard's plots, I should have first been call'd to a strict account. How and which way I had consumM that mass Of money, as they term it, in the war ; Who under-hand had by his ministers Detracted m}^ great actions ^, made my faith And loyalty suspected*^; in which failing. He sought my life by practice " ?
Hub. With what forehead
« actioyis] Old eds. " action ". We have previously (p. 6) had, — " For Wolfort, now beholding Himself and actions in the flattering glass ", «&c.
' loyalty siispcctedl So the second folio. — The first folio and the Ho "loyalty so suspected."
t.' practice] See note, p. 6.
scKNEii] BEGGARS' BUSH. 9
Do you speak this to me, who (as I know 't) Must and will say ^tis false ?
PFol. My guard there !
Hub. Sir, You bade me sit, and promised you would hear ; Which I now say you shall : not a sound more ! For I, that am contemner of mine own. Am master of your life ; then here 's a sword
[Draws his sword. Between you and all aids, sir. Though you bUnd The credulous beast, the multitude, you pass not These gross untruths on me.
Wol. How ! gross untruths !
Hub. Ay, and it is favourable g language : They had been in a mean man lies, and foul ones.
Wol. You take strange licence.
Hub. Yes ; were not those rumours Of being call'd unto yom' answer spread By your own followers ? and weak Gerrard wrought (But by your cunning practice) to believe That you were dangerous ; yet not to be Punish' d by any formal course of law, But first to be made sure^ and have youi* crimes Laid open after ? which \(mx quaint train '• taking, You fled unto the camp, and there crav'd hiunbly Protection for yom* innocent bfe, and that. Since you had scap'd the fury of the war. You might not fall by treason ; and for proof You did not for your own ends make this danger. Some, that had been before by you suborned. Came forth, and took their oaths they had been hu*'d By Gerrard to yom* murder. This once heard. And easily believ'd, th^ enraged soldier. Seeing no further than the outAvard man, Snatched hastily his arms, ran to the court, Kill'd all that made resistance, cut in pieces
s is javourahle'\ Seward silently printed " Is s. favourable ". ^ train} i. c. ai'tificc, stratagem.
10 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act i.
Such as were servants^ or thought friends to Gerrard, Vowdng the like to him.
Wol. Will you yet end ?
Hub. Which he foreseeing, with his son, the earl, Forsook the city, and by secret ways. As you give out, and Ave would gladly have it, Escap'd their fuiy ; though ^tis more than fear'd They fell among the rest. Nor stand you there, To let us only mourn the impious means By which you got it ; but yom' cruelties since So far transcend your former bloody ills. As, if compar'd, they only would appear Essays of mischief. Do not stop yom' ears ; More are behind yet.
JVol. Oh, repeat them not ! 'Tis hell to hear them nam'd.
Hub. You should have thought, That hell would be your punishment when you did them : A prince in nothing but your princely lusts And boundless rapines !
Wol. No more, I beseech you.
Hub. Who was the lord of house or land, that stood Within the prospect of your covetous eye ?
Wol. You are in this to me a greater tyrant Than e'er I was to any.
Hub. I end thus The general grief. Now to my private wrong, The loss of Gerrard's daughter Jacqueline : The hop'd-for partner of my lawfid bed Your cruelty hath frighted from mine arms ; And her I now was wandering to recover. Think you that I had reason now to leave you. When you are grown so justly odious. That even my stay here, with your grace and favour. Makes my life irksome ? Here, surely take it ';
[Offers Ins sivord.
' Here, surely take it] Seward printed « Here, sir, freely tale it." Sympson proposed to read "Here, securely take it" ; which was adopted by the Editors of
sciiNHii.J BEGGARS' BUSH. U
And do me but this fruit of all your friendship, That I may die by you, and not your hangman.
TVol. Oh, Hubert, these your words and reasons have As well drawn drops of Ijlood from my griev'd heart. As these tears from mine eyes ! despise them not : By all that ^s sacred, I am serious, Hubert ! You now have made me sensible, Avhat Fnries, WhipsJ, hangmen, and tormentors, a bad man Does ever bear about lum : let the good That you this day have done be ever number'd The first of your best actions. Can you think Where Florez is, or Gerrard, or yom- love. Or any else, or all, that are proscrib'd ? I will resign what I usm-p, or have Unjustly forc'd : the days I have to live Are too, too few to make them satisfaction "With any penitence ; yet I vow to practise All of a man*^.
Hub. Oh, that yoiu' heart and tongue Did not now difi'er !
Wol. By my griefs, they do not ! Take the good pains to search them out ; 'tis worth it. You have made clean a leper, — trust me, you have, — And made me once more fit for the society, I hope, of good men.
Hub. Sir, do not abuse My aptness to believe.
fVoI. Suspect not you A faith that 's built upon so true a sorrow :
1778. The old i-eading is doubtless right: "surely" as Mason observes, " implies, not only with security, but with certainty." j what Furies,
Whips, &c.] The poet had here perhaps an eye to Juvenal ;
" Cm- tamen hos tu Evasissc putes, quos diri conscia facti Mens habet attonitos, et sm-do vei'bere ca;dit, Oceultuni quatiente aiiinio tortore flagellum i "
Sat. xiii. ItCi. ^ All of a man] i. v. All tliat man can do.
12 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act i.
Make your own safeties; ask thein' all the ties Humanity can give : Hemskirk too shall Along with you to this so- wish' d discovery, And in my name profess all that you promise : And I will give you this help to ^t ; I liave Of late received certain intelligence That some of them are in or about Bruges To be found out ; which I did then interpret The cause of that town's standing out against me ; But noAV am glad it may direct your purpose Of giving them their safety and me peace.
Hub. Be constant to your goodness, and you'" have it.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE HI.— Bruges.— The Exchange.
Enter three Merchants.
First Mer. 'Tis much that you deliver of this Goswin.
Sec. Mer. But short of what I could, yet have the country Confirm" it true, and by a general oath. And not a man hazard his credit in it. He bears himself with such a confidence, As if he were the master of the sea, And not a wind upon the sailors' compass But from one part or other was his factor. To bring him in the best commodities Merchant e'er ventur'd for.
First Mer. ^Tis strange.
Sec. Mer. And yet This does in him deserve the least of wonder, Compar'd with other his peculiar fashions, Which all admii'e : he ^s young, and rich, at least Thus far reputed so, that, since he liv'd In Bruges, there was never brought to harbom-
1 them^ i. e. (as Weber saw) for your safeties.— Silently altered by Seward to "thee"; and so the Editors of 1778. " you\ Altered by Seward to "you'll." " Confirm'^ Seward's correction. — Old eds. " Confirm'd"; and so Weber.
scKNEiii.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 1."^
So rich a bottom but his bill would pass ITnquestion'd for her lading.
Third Mer. Yet he still Continues a good man".
Sec. Mer. So good, that but To doubt him woidd be held an injiu-y, Or rather malice, with the best that traffic : But this is nothing ; a great stock, and fortune Crowning his judgment in his undertakings, May keep him iipright that way ; but that wealth Should want the power to make him dote on it. Or youth teach him to A\Tong it, best commends His constant temper. For his outward habit, ^Tis suitable to his present course of life ; His table fiu'nish'd well, but not with dainties • That please the appetite only for their rareness Or theii' dear price ; nor given to wine or women. Beyond his health, or warrant of a man, I mean, a good oneP; and so loves his state n, He mil not hazard it at play, nor lend Upon the assui'ance of a well-penn'd letter. Although a challenge second the denial. From such as make the opinion of their valour Their means of feeding.
First Mer. These are ways to thrive. And the means'" not cm's'd.
Sec. Mer. What follows this Makes* manv venturers with him in their wishes
" a good man'\ i. e. a man able to fulfil engagements, a wealthy man (a mer- cantile expression, as in vol. vii. 102).
p a good one~\ i. e. (as Mason observes) a virtuous man — Here the Editors of 1778 explained "good" — " in credit" ! (which is the meanmg of the word a little before.)
1 state'\ i.e. estate.
■■ And the meatis'] Seward silently printed "And yet the meann "; and so the Editors of 1778.
' Wliot follows this Makes, &c.] i. e. " The consequence of this economy, which enables him to be generous when proper objects present themselves to his notice, makes many wish for his welfare, in which they are themselves so nearly interested ". Ed. 1778. — The punctuation of the first folio and of tlie 4to is, —
14 BEGGARS' BUSH. [aci i.
For his prosperity ; for when desert
Or reason leads him to be liberal,
His noble mind and ready hand contend
Which can add most to his free courtesies,
Or in their worth or speed to make them so.
Is there a virgin of good fame wants dower ?
He is a father to her ; or a soldier,
That, in his country's service, from the war
Hath brought home only scars and want ? his house
Receives him, and relieves him with that care
As if what he possessed had been laid up
For such good uses, and he steward of it.
But I should lose myself to speak him further.
And stale', in my relation, the much good
You may be witness of, if your remove
From Bruges be not speedy.
First Mer. This report, I do assure you, will not hasten it ; Nor would I wish a better man to deal with For what I am to part with.
Third Mer. Never doubt it, He is your man and ours ; only I wish His too-much forwardness to embrace all bargains Sink him not in the end.
Sec. Mer. Have better hopes ; For my part, I am confident. Here he comes.
" What follows this. Makes," &c. That of the second folio is, —
" What follows, this Makes," &e. which was adopted by Weber, who says that that « pointing has exactly the same meaning" as Mason's (see below). Seward made "What follows?" a portion of the preceding speech, and then gave, —
" 2 Mer. This Makes," &c. Mason would point the passage thus ;
" What follows ?— this Makes," &c. t stale] i, e. make stale, flat ; deprive of zest.
scF.NE III.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 15
Enter Gosavin and Fourth Mercliant,
Gos. I take it at your own rates, your wine of Cyprus ; But, for your Candy sugars, they have met Witli such foul weather, and are priz'd so high, I cannot save in them.
Fourth Mer. I am imwilhng To seek another chapman : make me offer Of something near my price, that may assure me You can deal for them.
Gos. I both can and will. But not with too much loss : your bill of lading Speaks of two hundred chests, valu'd by you At thii'ty thousand gilders ; I will have them At twenty-eight ; so, in the payment of Three thousand sterling, you fall only in Two hundred pomid.
Fourth Mer. You know, they are so cheap
Gos. Wliy^ look you, 1 11 deal fairly. There ^s in prison, And at your suit, a pirate, but unable To make yon satisfaction, and past hope To live a week, if you should prosecute What you can prove against him : set him free. And you shall have your money to a stiver. And present pa\Tnent.
Fourth Mer. This is above wonder, A merchant of your rank, that ha^e at sea So many bottoms in the danger of These water-thieves, should be a means to save 'era ; It more importing you, for your own safety. To be at charge to scour the sea of them. Than stay the sword of justice, that is ready To fall on one so conscious of his guilt That he dares not deny it.
Gos. You mistake me. If yon think I would cherish in this captain The WTong he did to yon or any man. I was lately Avith him (having first, from others' True testimony, been assin-'d a man
ir, BEGGARS' BUSH. [act i.
Of more desert never put from tlie shore) ;
I read his letters of mart", from this state granted
For the recovery of such losses as
He had receiv'd in Spain ; 'twas that he aim'd at,
Not at three tuns of wine, biscuit, or beef.
Which his necessity made him take from you.
If he had pillag'd you near, or sunk your ship.
Or thrown your men overboard, then he deserv'd
The law's extremest rigour : but, since want
Of what he could not live without compell'd him
To that he did (which yet our state calls death),
I pity his misfortune [s] , and, to work you
To some compassion of them, I come up
To your own price : save him, the goods are mine ;
If not, seek elsewhere, I'll not deal for them.
Fourth Mer. Well, su-, for your love, I Avill once be led To change my piu-pose.
Gos. For your profit rather.
Fourth Mer. I 'U presently make means for his discharge ; Till when, I leave you. [Exit.
Sec. Mer. What do you think of this ?
First Mer. As of a deed of noble pity, guided By a strong judgment.
Sec. Mer. Save you. Master Goswin !
Gos. Good day to all.
Sec. Mer. We bring you the refusal Of more commodities.
Gos. Are you the owners Of the ship that last night put into the harboiu* ?
First Mer. Both of the ship and lading.
Gos. What 's the fraught^' ?
Fh'st Mer. Indigo, cochineal, choice China stuiFs —
Third Mer. And cloth of gold brought from Cambal.
Gos. Rich lading ; For which I were your chapman, but I am Already out of cash.
" letters of mart~\ i.e. letters of marque : see Nares's G'/o.s.s. ^ fraughfl Sewai'd pi'inted " fraight " ; the Editors of 1778 and Weber "freight."
SCENE III] BEGGARS' BUSH. 17
First Met'. I '11 give you day For the moiety of all.
Gos. How loii'g ?
T7iird Mer. Six months.
Gos. 'Tis a fair offer ; which, if we agree About the prices, I, with thanks, accept of, And will make present pajonent of the rest : Some two houi'S hence I ^11 come aboard.
First Mer. The gmmer Shall speak you welcome.
Gos. I 'W not fail.
Third Mer.'" Good morrow. [Exeunt Merchants.
Gos. Heaven grant my ships a safe retui'n before The day of this great payment ; as they are Expected three months sooner ; and my credit Stands good with all the world.
Enter Clause.
Clause. Bless my good master ! The prayers of your poor beadsman ever shall Be sent up for you.
Gos. God ^a mercy. Clause ! There 's something to put thee in mind hereafter To think of me. [Gives money.
Clause. May he that gave it you Reward you for it with increase, good master !
Gos. I thrive the better for thy prayers.
Clause. I hope so. This three years have I fed upon yom* bounties, And by the ftre of youi' blest charity warm'd me ; And yet, good master, pardon me, that must. Though I have now received your alms, presume To make one suit more to you.
Gos. "VMiat is 't, Clause ?
Clause. Yet do not think me impudent, I beseech you, Since hitherto your charity hath prevented
" TIdrd Mer.'] Ought perhaps to be "Merchants" ; for the prefix of the old eds., " 3 Mer. ", (though earlier it is put for TJiird MercharU,) may here mean T/i7-€e Merchants.
VOL. IX. C
18 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act i.
My begging your relief; 'tis not for money.
Nor clothes, good master, but your good word for me.
Gos. That thou shalt have, Clause ; for I think thee honest.
Clause. To-morrow, then, dear master, take the trouble Of walking early unto Beggars' Bush^'; And, as you see me, among others, brethren In my affliction, when you are demanded Wliich you like best among us, point out me. And then pass by, as if you knew me not.
Gos. But what will that adA^antage thee ?
Clause. Oh, much, sir ! 'Twill give me the pre-eminence of the rest, Make me a king among 'em, and protect me From all abuse such as are stronger might Offer my age. Sir, at your better leisure I will inform you further of the good It may do to me.
Gos. Troth, thou mak'st me wonder : Have you a king and commonwealth among you ?
Clause. We have ; and there are states are govern'd worse.
Gos. Ambition among beggars ?
Clause. Many great ones Would part with half their states), to have the place And credit to beg in the first file, master. But shall I be so much bound to your furtherance In my petition ?
Gos. That thou shalt not miss of. Nor any worldly care make me forget it : I will be early there.
Clause. Heaven bless my master ! [Exeunt severally.
" Beggars'' Bx(,sh'\ " This is the way to Beggers-hush. It is spoken of such, who use dissolute and improvident courses, which tend to poverty. Beggers-bitsh being a tree notoriously known, on the left hand of the London road from Huntington to Caxton." Ray's Proverbs, p. 244, ed. 1768.
'' states] " i. e. estates." Weber.
scKNK I ] BEGGARS' BUSH. 19
ACT II.
SCENE I. — The Beggars' Bush, in the ivoods near Bruges.
Enter Hiqgen, Ferret, Prig, Clause, Snap^ Ginks, and other Beggars.
Hig. Come, princes of the ragged regiment ; You o' the blood. Prig, my most Upright-lord, And these, what name or title e'er they bear, Jai'kman, or Patrico, Crank, or Clapper-dudgeon, Fi'ater, or Abram-maii''; I speak to all
* Clause, Snap'] Old eds. " Clause, Jaculiiie," Snap," — by mistake, for they have afterwards (p. 32) " Filter Jaculme " ; and so the modern editors. — Tliroughout the play, both in the stage-directions and prefixes, the modern editors follow the old copies in giving to this lady her real name Jacqueline (or, as they put it, Jaculin, though that barbarous spelling is found only in some places of the old eds.). But, if her companions are distinguished by their assumed names, it is an impropriety that .Jacqueline should i-etam her real one.
a most Uprigld-lord,
Jarkmrni, or Patrico, Crank, or Clapper-dudgeon,
Frater, or Ahram-man] The following passages (a portion only of which were cited here by Webei') will fully explain these seven cant terms.
" An Vpright-man is a sturdy big-bonde knaue, that neuer walkes but (like a Commander) with a short troncheon in his hand, which hee cals his FilcJiman. At Markets, Fayres, and other meetings his voice amongst Beggers is of the same sound that a Constables is of, it is not to be controld. He is free of all the shiers in England, but neuer stayes in any place long ; the reason is, his profes- sion is to be idle, which being looked into, he knowes is pvmishable, and therfore to auoid the whip he wanders. If hee come to a Farmers doore, the almes hee begs is neither meate nor drinke, but onely money : if any thmg else be offered to him, he takes it with disdaine, and laies it vnder a hedge for any that come next ; but, in reuenge of this, if hee spy any geese, hennes, ducks, or such hke walking spirits haunting the houfe, with them he coniures about midnight, vsing them the next morning like traytors, either behedding them or quartering them in pieces ; for which purpose, this band of Vpriglit-mcn seldome march without fiue or six in a company, so that comitry people rather giuc them mony for feare then out of any deuotion [i. e. charity : see note, vol. viii. 10]. After this bloudy massacre of the poore mnocent piillcn, the Actors in their bloudy ti'agcdy repaire to their StalUnr/-}ccnnes, and those are tipling houses, which will lend money vpon any stolne goods, and vnto which none but such guests as these resort : there the spits go round, and the cannes walke vp and downe ; thei-e haue they
C 2
■^0 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act a.
That stand in fair election for the title
theii- Morts and theii- Doxyes [old ed., by a misprint, Dopyes : for explanations of these two terms, see notes, p.p. 25, 29], with whome (after they haue Bowsed profoundly) they lye (in store [stead] of fetherbeds) vppon litters of cleane strawe, to increase the Generation of Rogues and Beggers : for these VprigJU- men stand so much vppon their reputation that they scorne any 3Iort or Doxye should be scene to walke with them ; and indeede what neede they care for them, when he may commaimd any Doxye to leaue another man and to lye with him, the other not daring to munnure agamst it. An VprigJd-man will seldome complame of want, for whatsoeuer any one of his profession doth steale, he may challenge a share of it, yea, and may command any inferiom' Roague to fetch in booty to serue his tourne. These cary the shapes of soldiers, and can talke of the Low comitries, though they neuer were beyond Doner." Dekker's Belman of London, &c., sig. c 3, ed. 1608.
" And because no common wealth can stand without some Learaing in it, there- fore are there some m this Schoole of Beggers that practise wTitmg and reading, and those are called Jarhnen [old ed., by a misprmt, Jachnen] : yea, the JarJc- man is so cunnmg sometimes that he can speake Latine ; which learning of his lifts him vp to aduancement, for by that means he becomes Clarke of their Hall, and his office is to make counterfet hcences, which are called Gybes, to which hee puts scales, and those are termed JarJces." Id. sig. d 3. " These counterfeit Jarhes (or seales) are grauen with the point of a knife vpon a stickes end, whose roundnesse may well be perceiued from the cii'cle of a common turn'd seale : these for the most part bearing the ilfauoured shape of a Buffars Nab or a Prancers Nab (a dogs head or a horses), and sometimes an Vnicorns, and such like ; the counterfeit Jarke haumg no circle about the edges. Besides, in the Passe-port you shall lightly [i. e. commonly] find these words, viz. ' For Salomon saith, Who giueth the poore, lendeth the Lord ', &c. ; and that Con- stables shall helpe them to lodgings, and that Curats shall perswade their parishioners, &c." Dekker's English Villanies, &c. sig. m., ed. 1632, — where previously we are told that " they who are Counterfeiters of Passe-ports are called Ben-fakers, that is to say. Good-makers," and that " in S. dwelt " a Ben- faker, " who tooke two shillings and six pence (two Boards and vi winiies), or two Boords and a Flag [i. e. groat], for euery Passeport that went out of his beg- gerly Office : he coimterfeited the Seale of L. D."
" A Patrico amongst Beggers is their priest, euery hedge beemg his parish, euery wandrmg hai-lot and rogue his parishioners ; the seruice he sayes is onely the marrying of couples, which he does in a wood vnder a tree, or in the open field, and the solemnity of it is thus. The parties to be wedded find out a dead horse or any other beast, and standing one on the one side and the other on the other, the Patrico bids them to line together till death them part ; and so shaking hands, the weddmg dinner is kept at the next Ale-house they stumble mto, where the musick is nothing but knocking with kannes, and their dances none but drunken Brawles." Dekker's Belman of London, &c. sig. D 3, ed. 1608.
" Baser in habit, and more vile in condition, than the Whip-iack, is the Coun- terfet cranhe ; who m all kind of weather going halfe naked, staring wildly with his eyes, and appearing distracted by his lookes, complayning cnely that he is troubled with the falling sicknes : albeit you giue them cloathes, they wil weare
SCENE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 21
Of King of Beggars, with the command adjoining ;
none, but rather wish those rags whicli they haue hanging about them should bcc made lothsome by myre, or their naked bosome and armes to appeare full of bruses, and to be bloudy with falling, therby to kyndle in men the greater com- passion : to cause that foaming m their mouthes, which is fearefuU to behold by the standers by, they haue this trick, priuily to couucy a peece of white scape into one corner of their jawes, which causeth that froth to come boyhng forth. These Crankes haue Ukewise thei-e meetings and there wenches at command." Id. sig. I) 2.
" A PaUiard comes next into my minde, and he likewise is cal'd a Clapper- dugeon : his vpper garment is an old cloake made of as many pieces patch'd together as there be villanies m him. This PaUiard neuer goes without a Mort at his heeles, whom he calles his wife : being either in the streete of a citty or in a country village, they diuide themselues, and beg almes at seuerall doores, but whatsoeuer is gotten (be it bread, cheese, malt, or wooll), they sell it to some Rogue or other, and with the money are merry at a Boivslng-Ken [i. e. ale-house] . A PaUiard carryes about him (for feare of the worst) a Certificate (vnder a ministers hand with the parishes name, which shall be sure to stand farre enough) where this Mort and he were marryed, when all is but forged : many Irislmien ai'e of this lowsie Regiment, and some Welchmen : and the better either to di-aw pitty from men, as also to giue cullor to their lame wandring, with Sperewort or Arsenick vnW they in one night poyson their leg, be it neuer so sound, and raise a bUster which at their pleasm-e they can take off againe." Id. sig. D. " A Clapjperdogeon is in English a Begger borne : some call him a PaUyard : of wliich sorts there are two ; first, Naturall, secondly, Artificiall. This fellow (aboue al other that are in the Regiment of Rogues) goeth best ai'med against the cruelty of winter : he should be wise, for he loues to keepe himselfe warme, w-earmg a patched Castor (a Cloake) for his vpper Robe ; vnder that, a Togmans (a Gowne), with high Stampers (shooes), the soles an inch thicke, pegged, or else patches at his Gii-dle ready to clap on ; a gi-eat Scue (a browne dish) hanging at his girdle, and a tassel of Thrums to wipe it ; a brace of greasie Night-caps on his head, and ouer them (lest he should catch a knauish cold) a hat (or Nab-cheat) ; a good Filch (or staffs) in his hand, hauing a little jTon pegge in the end of it ; a Bughcr (a Uttle dog) following him, with a smugge Boxy, attjTed fit for such a Roguish Companion." Dekker's English Villanies, &c., sig. M, ed. 1632. The term Clapper-dudgemi would seem to have been derived from the wooden dish with a moveable cover, — the clap-dish \vith a clapper, — which was canned by beggars (see note on act iv. sc. 4.), and per- haps originally by the Clapper-dudgeon.
" A Prater is a brother of as damnd a broode as the rest : his office is to traucU with a long wallet at his backe, and a blacke box at his girdle, wherein is a pattent to beg for some Hospitall or Spittle house ; many of which pattents (especially if they be in paper or parchment without the Great Scale) are comi- terfeit ; and those that are not so, senic the Bearers of them but as instruments to play the Knaues by, for though they get neuer so much, the poore creatures for whome they beg receiue little of it ; they lye soaking with a Bo.rye in a typ- ling house, whilst the spittle wretches are ready to starue for sustenance at home. Let country women retmuiing from Markets, if they be alone and in a dangerous place, take hecde of these Proctors, for they haue the Art to vnhorse
22 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ii.
Higgen, your orator, in this inter-regnum,
them, and a conscience to send them packing without any peny in theii" purses." Dekker's Belman of London, &c. sig. d, ed. 1608.
" Of all tlie mad rascalls (that are of this wmg) the Abraham-man is the most phantastick. The fellow (quoth this old Lady of the Lake vnto me) that sat halfe naked (at table to day) from the girdle upward, is the best Abraham-man that euer came to my house, and the notablest villaine. He sweares he hath bin in Bedlam, and will talke frantickly of pm-pose : you see pmnes stuck m sundry places of his naked flesh, especially in his armes, wliich paine hee gladly puts himselfe to (beemg mdeede no torment at all, his skin is either so dead with some fowle disease, or so hardned with weatlier), onely to make you beleeue he is out of his wits : he calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and comming neere any body, cryes out, ' Poore Tom is a cold.' [Here the reader will recoUect Shakespeare's Edgar in King Zear.~\ Of these Abraham-men some be exceeding mery, and doe nothing but sing songs fashioned out of their owne brames ; some will dance ; othei-s will doe nothing but either laugh or weepe ; others are dogged, and so sullen both in looke and speech, that, spying but small company in a house, they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the seniants through feare to giue them what they demaimd, which is commonly bacon or some thing that wiU yeelde ready mony. The Vprirjht-man and the Rogue are not terribler enemies to poultry ware than Poore Tom is ; neither does any man shift cleane lynnen oftner than he does his wenches." Id. sig. d 2. "The Ahram Coue is a lusty strong Rogue, who walketh Avith a Slade about his Quarrons (a sheete about his body,) Trining (hangmg) to his hammes, bandeleere-wise, for al the world as Cutpiu'ses and Theeues weare their sheetes to the Gallowes, in which then- Truls are to bury them. Oftentimes (because he scornes to follow any fashions of hose) he goes without breeches ; a cut Jerkin with hanging sleeues (in immitation of our Gallants), but no Sattin or Chamlet Elbowes, for both his legs and armes ai-e bare ; hauing no Commission to couer his body, that is to say, no shii-t : a face starmg like a Sarisin ; his hau-e long and filthily knotted, for he keepes no Barber ; a good Filch (or staffe) of grown Ash, or else Hazel, in his Fambler (m his hand), and sometimes a sharpe sticke, on which he hangeth Ruffe-pecke (Bakon). These, walking vp and downe the Comatrey, are more terrible to women and childi'en then the name of Raw-head and Bloody-bones, Robbin Good-fellow, or any other Hobgoblin. Crackers tyed to the dogs tayle make not the poore Cm-re runne faster then these Abravi Ninnies do the sillie villagers of the Countrey, so that when they come to any doore a begging, nothing is denied them. Some of these Abrams haue the Letters E. and R. vpon then* armes ; some haue crosses, and some other Marke, all of them carying a blue colour ; some weare a yron ring, &c, which marks," though made by themselves, they will tell you are those "of Bedlam."... "And to colour his villany the better, euery one of these Abrams hath a seuerall gesture in playing his part : some make an hoiTid noyse, hollowly sounding ; some whoope, some hoUow, some shew only a kmd of wild distracted vgly looke, vttering a simple kind of Matvnding, with these additions of words {well and wisely). Some dance (but keepe no measure) ; others leape vp and downe and fetch Gambals ; all thcii- actions shew them to be as di-unke as Beggars ; for, not to bely them, what are they but drunken Beggers ? all that they beg being either Lowre or Boivse (money or di-inke)." Then follows a description
scKNE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 23
That whilom'' was j'^our Dommerer*^, doth beseech you All to stand fair, and put j^oursclves in rank. That the first comer may, at his first Wew, Make a free choice, to say up the question''.
Fer. ]
p. Y 'Tis done, Lord Higgen.
Hiy. Thanks to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret. Fer. Well, pray, my masters all, Ferret be chosen ; Ye 're like to have a merciful mild prince of me.
of " Their Maimid or Beggbif)." Dekker's English Villanics, &c., Sig. l ?<, ed. IC32. — In Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, act ii. sc. 1, Mr. Knight gives, with the old copies,
" Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim " ; and says that " the ' Abraham ' Cupid is the cheat — the ' Abraham man ' — of our old statutes " : but will any one, after reading the above extracts, be dis- posed to think that he is right ?
^ tvhilomi i. e. fomierly.
° Dommerer] " Equall to the Cranck in dissembluig is the JDummerar, for as the other takes vpon him to haue the falling sicknesse, so this counterfets Dwmhnes ; but let Ixim be whipped well, and his tongue (which he doubles in his mouth, and so makes a horrid and strange noise in stead of speech) will walke as fast as his handes doe when hee comes where any booty is." Dekker's Belman of London, &c., sig. d 3, ed. 1608. " The Bel-man tooke his markes amisse in saying that a Dommerar is equall to the CranJce, for of these Dommerars I neuer met but one, and that was at the house of one M. L. of L. Tliis Dommerars name was W. He made a strange noise, shewmg, by fingers acrosse, that his tongue was cut out at Chalke-hill. In his hand he carryed a sticke, aboute a foote in length, and sliarpe at both ends, which he would thrust into his mouth, as if he meant to shew the sturape of his tongue. But, in doing so, hee did of pm-pose hit his tongue with the sticke, to make it bleede, which, filling vp his mouth, you co\ild not for blood perceiue any tongue at all, because hee had tm'ned it \'pwards, and with his sticke thrust it into his tlu-oat. But I caused him to be held fast by the strength of men, vntill such time that, opening his teeth with the end of a small cudgell, I pluckt forth his tongue, and made him speake." Dekker's English Villanies, sig. m, ed. 1632. (The latter pas- sage is cited by Weber.)
d to say up the question} Seward printed " to save us fm'ther question " ! ! The Editors of 1778 followed the old eds., observing that, " though 'to say up^ is micouth and obscure, it may signify — decidmg the question by saying which he (the first comer) thinks the honestest of them." So too Weber. I once conjectured " to say upon the question," i. e. to speak upon the question being asked : but I now believe that the reading of the old eds. is right, and that " to say up " means — to decide : compare the following passage at p. 26 ;
" Now, 'cause we thought Wc ne'er should 'gree on 't ourselves, because indeed 'Tis hard to say, wc all dissolv'd to put it To him that should come next", &c.
24 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act n.
Prig. A very tyrant 1, an arrant tyrant^ If e^er I come to reign (therefore look to ^t,) Except you do provide me hum® enough, And lour to bouse with^ : I must have my capons And turkeys brought me in, with my green geese, And ducklings i^ the season ; fine fat chickens ; Or, if you chance where an eye of tame pheasants^ Or partridges are kept, see they be mine : Or straight I seize on all your priAdlege, Places, revenues, offices, as forfeit. Call in your crutches, wooden legs, false beUies, Forc'd eyes and teeth'', with your dead arms; not leave you A dirty clout to beg with o^ your heads. Or an old rag with butter, frankincense. Brimstone and rosin, birdlime, blood, and cream, To make you an old sore'; not so much soap As you may foam with i' the falling-sicknessJ; The very bag you bear, and the brown dish. Shall be escheated ; all your daintiest dells too
= hum'] See note, vol. viii. 148.
' lour to bouse with] i. e. money to drink with. "Louvre, money." The Canters Dictionary in Dekker's English Villanies, &c. sig. n 4, ed. 1()32. I know not what Weber could be thinking of when he here explained the verb " bouse " to mean — strong drink.
B an eye of tame pheasants] "An Eye of Pheasants, Phasianomm fa^tura." Coles's Diet.
'' Forced eyes and teeth] Altered by Seward to " Forc\l eyes and tongues" ; and so the Editors of 1778. "Seward supposes, that by 'forc'd eyes' is meant eyes so distorted as to shew only the white, so that the person appears to be blind ; and also says, that it is common for beggars to force theu' tongues into their throats, in order that they may appear to have been cut off. On those reasons he founds his amendment, and the Editors [of 1778] adopt it ; but they all forget, that it was not in the power of Prig, however tyrannical, to prevent their making what use they pleased of their own features : what he threatens to call in, are the artificial implements of impostm'e, which beggars employ for the purpose of appearing blind or deformed. The word forced certamly implies distorted ; but, for the reason I have mentioned, it must be apphed to false eyes and false teeth, not to natural ones." Mason.
i To make you, an old sore] " Dekker gives a long receipt how the artificial sores are produced, but it is too disgusting to be repeated here. The mgredients recommended by him are mislaked hme and soap [with the rust of old iron]. ' A browne paper with butter and waxe being applied, they are cured'. English Villanies, &c. Sig. l 4, ed. 1632." Weber.
' foam tvith i' the falling sickness] See note concerning the Counterfeit crank, p. 20.
SCENE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 25
I will deflower, and take your dearest doxies'' From your warm sides ; and then, some one cold night, I '11 watch you what old bam you go to roost in. And there I '11 smother you all i' the musty hay.
Hig. This is tja'ant-like, indeed. But what would Ginks, Or Clause be here, if either of them should reign ?
Clause. Best ask an ass, if he were made a camel. What he would be ; or a dog, an he were a lion.
Ginks. I care not what you are, sirs ; I shall be A beggar stiU, I am siu'e; I find myself there I
'' all your daintiest dells too
I will deflower, and take your dearest doxies, &c.] " A Dell is a yong
wench but as yet not spoyled of her maidenhead : these Dells are reserued
as dishes for the Vpri(jht-men, for none but they must haue the first tast of them ; and after the Vpriyht-men have deflo\vi'ed them (which commonly is when they are very yong), then are they free for any of the brother-hood, and are called Dells no more, but Doxies [old ed., by a misprint, Dopersl. Of these Dells some are termed Wilde Dells, and those are such as are borne and begotten vnder a hedge ; the other are yong wenches that either by death of parents, the villanie of Executors, or the crueltie of maisters and misti'esses, fall into this infamous and damnable com'se of life. When they haue gotten the title of Doxies, then are they common for any, and walke for the most part with their betters (who are a degi-ee aboue them) called Moris, but whensoeuer an Vpright-man is in presence, the Doxye is onely at his command. These Doxyes will for good victuals or a small peice of money prostitute there bodies to semingmen, if they can get into any conuenient corner about their maisters h.ouses, and to ploughmen in barnes, haylofts, or stables : they are conmion pick-pockets, familiars with the baser sorts of cut-pm'ses, and oftentimes secret murtherers of those infants which are begotten of tlieii* bodies. These Doxyes haue one especial badge to be knowne by, for most of them goe working of laces and shirt-stringes, or such hke stuffe, only to giue colom- to their idle wandring." Dekker's Belman of London, &c. Sig. d 3, ed. 1608. "At her backe she [tlie Clapperdudgeon's Doxy] carrieth a great pack, couered with a patched saue-guard, \-nder which she conueieth all such things as she filcheth. Her skil sometimes is to tell Fortimes, to helpe the diseases of women and children. As she walkes, she makes bals or shirt-strings, (but now commonly they knit,) and wearcs in her hat a needle, with a tlu'ead at it. An excellent Angler she is ; foi', when her Cone Matvnds [i.e. begs] at any doore, if any Poulti*y ware be picking vp their crummes neere them, she feedeth them with bread, and hath a threcd tyed to a hooked pin, baited for the nonce, which the Chickin swallowing, is clioaked, and conueied vnder the Castor [cloak] . Chickins, linnen, woollen, or any thing that is worth the catching, comes into her net " Dekker's English Villanies, &c. sig. M, ed. 1632, (A portion of what I have just cited was given by Weber.)
' 1 find myself tliere] " i. e. I find it the fittest condition for me, and tliat a beggar's is my proper station. Gmks speaks this merely in the chai-acter of a beggar who did not aspire to the crown." Mason (the words having been wrongly explained by Seward).
26 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ii.
Snap. Oh, here a judge comes ! Hi(/. Cry, a judge, a judge !
Enter Goswin.
Gos. What ail you, sirs ? what means this outcry ?
Hiff. Master, A sort'" of poor souls met, God^s fools, good master, Have had some little variance amongst ourselves Who should be honestest of us, and which lives Uprightest in his call" : now, 'cause we thought We ne'er should 'gree on't ourselves, because indeed 'Tis hard to say, we all dissolv'd° to put it To him that should come next, and that's your mastership, Who, I hope, will 'termine it as your mind serves you. Right, and no otherwise we ask it. Which, Which does your worship think is he ? sweet master. Look over us all, and tell us : we are seven of us. Like to the Seven Wise Masters?, or the planets.
Gos. I should judge this the man, with the grave beard ; And, if he be not
Clause. Bless you, good master, bless you !
Gos. I would he were. There 's something too amongst you. To keep you all honest. \_Gives money, and exit.
Snap. King of Heaven go with you !
All. Now good reward him ;
■" sort] " i. e. company." Weber.
" call] i. e. calling. So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio " calling" ; and so Seward and the Editors of 1778.
° dissolv'd] " Mr Seward alters ' dissohW to ' resolv'd' ; but Higgen speaks barbarously here, because, on the appearance of a stranger, he assumes the style of a beggar, e. g. ' 'termine it", in the next line but one. So afterwards (and it is acknowledged to be part of their table of laws) to ' keep afoot The humble and the common plu'ase of begging. Lest men discover us'." Ed. 1778. " So, in the maund or begging plirase of the Clapperdogeons ; ' Ah, the Vrship of God ! looke out with your merciful eyne, one pittiful looke vpon sore, lame, grieued, and impiijdent (for impotent) people,' &c. Dekker's English Villanies, &.C., sig. M 2, ed. 1632. That the mistake in the text was an intended one, caimot, therefore, be doubted." Weber.
" the Seven Wise Mctsters] See Ellis's In trod, to the talc so called, in his Spec, of Early Engl. Mdr. Romances, vol. iii.
SCENE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 27
May he never want it, to comfort still the poor, In a good hom- !
Fer. What is 't ? see : Snap has got it.
Snap. A good crown, marry.
Prig. A crown of gold.
Fer. For our new king; good luck.
Ginks. To the common treasury with it ; if 't be gold. Thither it must.
Prig. Spoke like a patriot. Ginks'' !
Kmg Clause, I bid God save thee first, first. Clause,
After this golden token of a crown.
Where ^s orator Higgen with his gratuUng'" speech now. In all oiu' names ?
Fer. Here he is, pumping for it.
Ginks. H'as cough'd the second time ; 'tis but once more. And then it comes.
Fer. So, out with all ! — Expect now !
Hig. That thou art chosen, venerable Clause, Our king and soAcreign, monarch o' the maunders ^, Thus we throw up our nab-cheats^ first, for joy. And then our filches" ; last, we clap our fambles" ;
' Gin1cs'\ Seward's coiTectioii. — All the old eds. " Ferret".
*■ gratulinff'] " So the old copies [the two folios]. Modern editors alter the word, minecessarily, to ' gi-atulating'." Weber. The 4to has " gratu- lating " — wi-ongly.
* maunders] " i. c. beggars." Weber. See note, p. 30.
' nab-cheats'] "i. e. hats or caps. Dekker's English Villanies, &c. sig. n 2, ed. 1632." Weber.
" filches] " ' Euery one of them carries a short staffs in his hand, which is called a Filch, hauuig in the Nab or head of it a Ferine, (that is to say, a hole,) into which, vpon any piece of seruice, when hee goes a Filching, he putteth a hooke of yron, with which hooke hee angles at a window, m the dead of night, for shirts, smockes, or any other linnen or woollen ; and for that reason is the staffc tearmed a Filch. So that it is as certaine that hee is an Angler for Duds [i.e. clothes] who hath a Femie in the Nab of his Filch, as that he is a theefe who, vpon the highway, cryes ' stand', and takes a piu'se. This staffe semeth to more vses then either the Crosse-staffe or the Jacobs, but the vses are not so good nor so honest ; for this Filching-staffe, being artificially handled, is able now and then to Mill Si Grunter, a Bleating Cheate, a R4id-shanke, a Tib of the Buttery, and such like, or to Fib a Corns Qiiarrons in. the Rome-pad, for his Lourein his Bung, that is to say, to kill a Pigge, a Sheepe, a Duckc, a Goose, and such lilce, or to bcato ii man by|the highway for the money in his purse.' Id. sig. m 3." Wki'.er.
" famblcs] " i. c. hands. Id. sig. s I." Weber.
28 BEGGARS' BUSH, [act ii
Three subject signs we do it without envy ; For who is he here did not wish thee chosen.
Now thou art chosen ? ask 'em ; all will say so.
Nay, swear 't; His for the king; hut let that pass.
When last in conference at the bousing-ken>'.
This other day, we sate about our dead prince
Of famous memory (rest go with his rags !),
And that I saw thee at the table's end
Rise mov'd, and, gravely leaning on one crutch.
Lift the other hke a sceptre at my head,
I then presaged thou shortly wouldst be king;
And now thou art so. But what need presage
To us, that might have read it in thy beard.
As well as he that chose thee ? by that beard
Thou wert found out, and marked for sovereignty :
Oh, happy beard ! but happier prince, whose beard
Was so remarked as marked out our prince.
Not bating us a hair ! long may it grow.
And thick and fair, that who hves under it
May live as safe as under Beggars' Bush,
Of which this is the thing, that but the type !
All. Excellent, excellent orator ! forward, good Higgen ! —
Give him leave to spit. — The fine weU-spoken Higgen !
Hiff. This is the beard, the bush, or bushy beard. Under whose gold and silver reign, 'twas said, So many ages since, we a,U should smile : No a impositions, taxes, grievances. Knots in a state, and whips unto a subject. Lie lurking in this beard, but all kemb'd^ out. If now the beard be such, what is the prince That owesb the beard? a father? no, a grandfather, Nay, the great-grandfather of you his people : He wiU not force away your hens, your bacon. When you have ventur'd hard for 't, nor take from you
•' lousinrj-lceiq «i. e. ale-house. Id. sig. n 3. From house, to drink, and ken, a house." Weber.
^ kemh'd] " i. e. combed." Reed.
^ No] Old eds. « On."
^ owes} « i. e. owns." Sewaud.
SCENE 1.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 29
The fattest of your puddings : under him.
Each man shall eat his own stoln eggs and butter '*,
In his own shade or sun-shine, and enjoy
His own dear dell, doxy, or mort '', at night.
In his own straw, with his own shirt or sheet
That he hath filched that day ; ay, and possess
"WTiat he can pm-chase, back or belly-cheats '',
'' under 1dm,
Each man shall eat his own stoln eggs and butter, <tr] A parody on the words of Cranmer concerning Q. Elizabeth m Shakespeare's Henry the Eighth, act v. so. 4 ; " In her days every man shall eat in safety, Under his owti \Tne, what he plants, and suig The meiTy songs of peace to all his neighbours."
c dell, doxy, or mort} The two first terms have been ah-eady explained : see note, p. 25. " Of Marts there be two kindes, that is to say, A Walhing Mort and an Autcm-mort. The Walking Mort is of more antiqnitie than a Doxye [old ed., by a misprint, Dopyel, and therefore of more knauerie : they both are vn- man'ied, but the Doxy professes herselfe to bee a maide (if it come to examina- tion), and the Walhing Mort sayes shee is a widow whose husband dyed either in the Portugall voyage, was slaine in Ireland or the Low Countries, or come to his end by some other misfortmie, leauing her so many small infants on her hand in debt, whome not being able by her honest labour to maintaine, she is compelled to begge. These Walhing Marts trauell from Comitry to Counti-ie, making laces (vpon staues) and small pm'ses, and now and then white vallance for beds. Subtile queanes they are, hard-harted, light-fingerd, cunning in dis- sembling, and dangerous to be met if any Rufler or Roayuc bee in theii' company. They feai-e neither God nor good lawes,but onely are kept in aw by the Vpright- men, who often times spoyle them of all they haue ; which to preuent, the Walh- ing Marts vse this polUcy, — they leaue their money (sometime fine shilluigs, some- times ten shillings) in seuei-aU shires with some honest fanners wife or others whom they know tlaey may trust, and when they trauell that way againe, at halfe yeares end or a quarters, fetch it to serue their tumes ; but dare neuer goe in good clothes, least tlie Vpright-men either strip them into rags, or else starke naked, as they vse to doe. An Autem-MoH is a woman married (for Autem in the Beggers language is a Church ) : these Maiis seldome keepe with their hus- bands, but are from them sometimes a moneth or two, yet neuer walke they with- out a man in their company, and boyes and girles at theu" heeles of ten or twcluo yeares old, whome they imploy at windowes of houses in the night time or earely in the moniings to pilfer away any thing that is worth the carying away, which in their tongue they call Milling [old ed., by a misprint, A'illing'\ of the Ken. These Autem-morts walke with wallets on their shoulders, and Slates (or sheetes) at tlieu' backes, m which they vse to lie. Their husbands commonly are Rufflers, Vpright-men, or Wilde Rogues, and their companions of the same breede". Dekkev's, Belmwn of London, &c. Sig. d 4, ed. 1608 (Here Weber gave only short explanations).
•■ back or belly-cheats'] "i.e.," says Theobald, "raiment or food stolen," — wrongly,
.50 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ii.
To his own prop «" : he will have no purveyors* For pigs and poultry.
Clause. That we must have, my learned orator ; It is our will ; and every man to keep In his own path and circuit.
Hig. Do you hear? You must hereafter maund on your own pads?^, he says.
Clause. And what they get there is their own : besides, To give good words.
Hig. Do you mark ? to cut bene winds ^ ; That is the second law.
Clause. And keep afoot The humble and the common phrase of begging, Lest men discover us.
Hig. Yes, and cry sometimes, To move compassion. Sii', there is a table, That doth command all these things, and enjoins 'em Be perfect in their crutches, their feign'd plasters. And their torn passports, with the waj^s to stammer. And to be dumb, and deaf, and bhnd, and lame : There all the halting paces are set down I^ the learned language.
Clause. Thither I refer them ; Those you at leisure shall interpret to them : We love no heaps of laws, where few will serve.
as it appears from Dekker's English ViUanies, &c. (cited by Weber), where we find "Belly cheate, an Apron." Sig. n 2, ed. 1632 : therefore hack-cheats must mean — clothuig for tlie back.
* To his 02V11 pro}:)'] "i. e. either, to his own support, or else, by abbreviation, to his o^vn property ". Theobald. The latter, as Weber observes, seems to be the right explanation.
' purveyors'] " i. e. officers sent out to provide victuals for the monarch, chiefly when on a progress through the coimtry. They were extremely oppres- sive, and of course frequently exclaimed against, and satirized in contemporary authors. Osborne relates a singular anecdote of a purveyor in Queen Elizabeth's reign. See his Wo7-l-s, edit. 1811. p. 53." Weber.
s maimd on yow own pads] " i. e. beg on your own roads, which are assigned to you." Weber. Pad is properly- — high-way. To maund is properly — to mutter or whine out suppUcations for charity (perhaps originally from begging with a maimd, — a basket to receive the dole).
•> to cut bene whids] " To cut bene whiddes, to speake good words." The Canters Dictionary in Dekker's English ViUanies, &c. Sig. N 3, ed. 1632.
SCENE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. ;U
All. Oh, gracious prince ! Save, save the good King
Clause ! Hig. A song to crown him ! Fer. Set a sentinel out first. Snap. The word ? Hiy. " A cove • comes", and " fumbumbis ^ " to it.
[Exit Snap.
SONG.
Cast oiu" caps and cares away ! Tliis is beggars' holiday : At the cro\vniiig of our liing, Thus we ever dance and sing. In the world look out and see, Where so happy a prince as he ? Where the nation Uve ' so free, And so meri'y as do we ? Be it peace, or be it war. Here at hberty we are, And enjoy our ease and rest : To the field we are not prest ; Nor ai'e call'd into the towii, To be troubled with the gowni : Hang all offices", we cry. And the magistrate too, by ! When the subsidy's increas'd, We are not a penny sess'd ; Nor will any go to law With the beggar for a straw. All which happiness, he brags. He doth owe imto his rags.
' cove'] " The word Coue, or Cofe, or Cuffin, signifies a man, a fellow, &c. but differs something m his property, according as it meets with other words ; for a Gentleman is called a Qentry C'oue or Cofe ; a good fellow is a Bene cofe ", &c. Id. sig. N 2.
k fumbumbis] " Is explained by Theobald, probably without any authority but the context, ' to youi' guard and postures '. But I thuik with the last editors [Gloss, at the end of the play] that it was 'rather a fancied watch-word than a cant term'." Weber. I may notice, that in a MS. collection of poetical pieces, most of them wTitten during the reign of Charles the Second, and some of tliem later, I find a ballad entitled " Fumbumbis, or The North Country Mayor." — After this speech, the old eds. have a stage-direction, " Stril-e ".
' nation live] Silently altered by Seward to " nations live " ; by the Editors of 1 778 and Weber to " nation lives ".
™ offices] So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio "officers" ; and so Seward.
32 BEGGARS' BUSH. (act u.
Re-enter Snap.
Snap. A cove ! fumbumbis " !
Priff. To your postures ! arm !
Enter Hubert and Hemskirk, both disguised.
Hub. Yonder 's the town : I see it.
Hem. There 's our danger, Indeed, afore us, if our shadows " save not.
Hiff. Bless your good worships !
Fer. One small piece of money
Priff. Amongst us all poor wretches —
Clause. Blind and lame —
Ginks. For his sake that gives all
Hiff. Pitiful worships !
Snap. One little doit
Enter Minche p.
Minche. King, by your leave, where are you ?
Fer.^ To buy a little bread
Hig. To feed so many Mouths, as will ever pray for you.
Prig. Here be seven of us.
Hig. Seven, good master ; oh, remember seven ! Seven blessings
Fer. Remember, gentle worship
Hig. ^Gainst seven deadly sins
Prig. And seven sleepers '".
° A cove I fumlumhis] So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio " A cove comes : Fumbumbis " (that the present speech might agree exactly with that of Higgen before the song) ; and so Seward.
" shadows] " i. e. disguises." Ed. 1778.
p Minche'] See note, p. 19.
q Fer.'\ So the second foho. — The first folio and the 4to " Ger." : but Gen-ard (Clause), we may suppose, has his attention occupied by Minche.
' seven sleejxrs] An allusion to a celebrated legend. When the emperor Decius persecuted the Christians, seven noble youths of Ephesus concealed them- selves in the cavern of an adjacent mountam. Thei-e they were doomed to perish by the tyi'ant, who commanded that the entrance should be secured by a pile of stones. They immediately fell into a deep slumber, which contmued during 187 years. At the end of that time, the cave being opened by the pos- sessor of the mountain, they awoke. The bishop of Ephesus, the clergy, the magistrates, and, it is said, the emperor Theodosius himself, hastened to the cave to visit the Seven Sleepers, who, having bestowed their benediction, and related their story, immediately expired. See Gibbon's Decline and Fall, &c., vol. iii. 350, ed. 4to.
SCENE I] BEGGARS' BUSH. 33
Hig. If they be liard of heart, and will gi\'e notliiug
Alas, we had not a charity this three days !
Hub. There ^s amongst you all, [Gives money.
Fer. Heaven reward you !
Priff. Lord reward you !
Hiff. The prince of pity bless thee !
Hub. Do I see ? or is ^t ray fancy that would have it so ? Ha! 'tis her face [Aside']. — Come hither, maid.
Minche. What ha' you, Bells for my squirrel ? I ha' given bun '' meat. You do not love me, do you ? Catch me a butterfly. And I '11 love you again : M'hen ? can you tell ? Peace, we go a-birding : I shall have a fine thing. [Exit.
Hub. Her voice too says the same ; but, for my head, I would not that her manners were so chang'd. — [Aside. Hear me, thou honest fellow; what 's this maiden, That lives amongst you here ?
Ginks. Ao, ao, ao, ao.
Hub. How ! nothing but signs ?
Ginks. Ao, ao, ao, ao.
Hub. This is strange : I would fain have it her, but not her thus. [Aside.
Hig. He is de-de-de-de-de-de-deaf, and du-du-dude-dumb, sii'. [Exeunt all the Beggars eorce/j^ Snap.
Hub. 'Slid, they did all speak plain even now, methought. — Dost thou know this same maid ?
Snap. "WTii-whi-whi-whi- which, Gu-Gu-Gu-Gu- God's fool?' She was bo-bo-bo-bo-born at the barn yonder, by Bc-Be-Be-
Be-Beggars' Bush Bo-Bo-Bush : Her name is Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Minche J ; so was her mo-mo- mo-mother's too-too.
*" him'\ Seems to mean — rabbit ; or perhaps by this term Minche designates her squin-el.
i Qod'sfool] Compare, p. 26, —
"A sort of poor souls met, God's fools, good master."
J -Minche] Old eds. "-match"; and so Seward. — "We at first thought 'match' to be a corruption of 'Madge' ;biit as Jaculin [Jacqueline] is in other parts of the play called Minche, we suppose it merely a typographical error." Ed. 1778. This speech was reduced to prose by Weber : but, wlion read without the stammering additions, it is blank verse. VOL. IX. D
34 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ji.
Hub. I understand no word he says. — How long- Has she been here ?
Snap. Lo-lo-long enough to be ni-ni-niggled ^, an she ha' go-go-go-good luck.
Hub. I must be better informed than by this way : Here was another face too, that I mark'd — Oh ' , the old man's : but they are vanished all Most suddenly. I will come here again : Oh, that I were so happy as to find it, What I yet hope it is, put on "" ! [Aside.
Hem. What mean you, sir. To stay there with that stammerer ?
Hub. Farewell, friend. — [Exit Snap.
It will be worth return, to search [Aside] . — Come ; Protect us our disguise now ! Prithee, Hemskirk, If we be taken, how dost thou imagine This town will use us, that hath stood so long Out against Wolfort ?
Hem. Even to hang us forth Upon theii" walls a-sunning, to make crows' meat. If I were not assur'd o' the burgomaster. And had a pretty 'scuse " to see a niece there, I should scarce ventiu-e.
Hub. Come, 'tis now too late To look back at the ports. Good luck, and enter !
[Ea^eunt.
SCENE U.— Bruges.— The Exchange. Enter Goswin. Gos. Still blow'st thou there ? and, from all other parts. Do all my agents sleep, that nothing comes ? There 's a conspiracy of winds and servants,
k niggled] « ' Niggling, companying with a woman '. The Cmiter's Diet, in Dekker's English Villanies, &c. sig. N 4, ed. 1632." Weber.
1 Ohi So the first folio and the 4to.— The second folio " Of " ; and so the modern editors.
"' jtut on] « i. e. assumed ". Weber,— who, like the other modern editors, points these words most improperly.
» 'sense] 1. e. excuse. So the first foho {" shuys") and the 4to ("scMce").— The second foho "excuse"; and so Seward and the Editors of 1778.
SCENE II.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 35
If not of elements^ t6 ha' me break. What should I think ? unless the seas and sands Had swallow'd up ray ships, or fire had spoil'd My warehouses, or death devoui-'d my factors, I must ha' had some returns.
Enter a Merchant.
Mer. Save you, sir !
Gos. Save you !
Mer. No news yet o' your ships ?
Gos. Not any yet, sir.
Mer. 'Tis strange.
Gos. 'Tis true, sir [Exit Merchant] . — What a voice was here now ! This was one passing-bell ; a thousand ravens Simg in that man now, to presage my ruins.
Enter Second Merchant.
Sec. Mer. Goswin, good day. These winds are very constant.
Gos. They are so, sir, — to hm-t.
Sec. Mer. Ha' you had no letters Lately from England, nor from Denmark?
Gos. Neither.
Sec. Mer. This wind brings them. Nor no news over land, Through Spain, from the Straits ?
Gos. Not any.
Sec. Mer. I am sorry, sir. [Exit.
Gos. They talk me down ; and, as 'tis said of vultures. They scent a field fought, and do smell the carcasses By many hundred miles, so do these my wrecks. At greater distances. Why, thy wiU, Heaven, Come on, and be ! yet, if thou please preserve me But in my own adventure here at home. Of my chaste love, to keep me worthy of her. It shall be put in scale 'gainst all ill fortunes : I am not broken yet " ; nor should I fall, Methinks, with less than that that ruins all. [Exit.
" / am not hroken yet, &c.] " Goswin means to say, that the hour of his bankruptcy was not yet arrived ; and his resources were such that nothing
D 2
36 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ii
SCENE III. — The same. — A room in the house o/Vandunk.
Enter Vandunk, Hubert, Hemskirk, and Margaret p.
Vand. Captain^ you are welcome ; so is this your friend. Most safely welcome ; though our town stand out Against your master, you shall find good quarter : The troth is, we not love him. — Meg '^, some wine. —
[_Exit Margaret, who presently re-enters with wine. Let 's talk a little treason, if we can
Talk treason 'gain the traitors : by youi^ leave, gentlemen. We here in Bruges think he does usurp. And therefore I am bold with hira.
Hub. Sir, your boldness Haply becomes your mouth, but not our ears, While we are his servants ; and, as we come here. Not to ask questions, walk forth on yom^ walls. Visit your courts of guard, view your munition. Ask of your corn-provisions, nor inquire Into the least, as spies upon your strengths ; So let 's entreat, we may receive from you Nothing in passage or discourse, but what We may with gladness, and our honesties, hear ; And that shall seal our welcome.
Vand. Good : let 's drink, then. — Madge, fill out. — I keep mine old pearl still, captain.
Marg. I hang fast, man.
Hem. Old jewels commend their keeper, sir.
Vand. Here 's to you with a heart, my captain's friend. With a good heart ! and, if this make us speak Bold words anon, 'tis all under the rose. Forgotten : drown all memory, when we drink !
ought to sink him but a general ruin. I eaiuiot agree with the Editors [of 1 778] in thinking that he alludes to Gertrude in these two Imes, thougli he does in those which precede them." Mason.
p Margaret] The old eds. add (by some mistake) " Boors" ; and so the modern editors.
1 Meg] So the first folio and the 4to.— The second folio " Margaret " ; and so Seward.
scENKiii.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 37
Hub. 'Tis freely spoken, noble burgomaster : I'll do you right.
Htm. Nay, sir, Mynheer A'andunk Is a true statesman.
Vand. Fill my captain's cup, there. — Oh, that your master Wolfort Had been an honest man !
Hib. Sir?
Vand. Under the rose.
Hem. Here 's to you, Marget \
Mary. Welcome, welcome, captain.
Vand. Well said, my pearl, still !
Hem. And how does my niece ? Almost a woman, I think. This friend of mine I drew along with me, through so much hazard. Only to see her : she Avas my errand ^
Vand. Ay, a kind uncle you are, — fill him his glass, — That in seven years could not find leisure
Hem. No, It 's not so much.
Vand. I '11 bate you ne'er an hour on 't : It was before the Brabander 'gan his war For moonshine i' the water there, his daughter That never was lost ; yet you could not find time To see a kinswoman : but she is worth the seeing, sir. Now you are come. You ask if she were a woman? She is a woman, sii', — fetch her forth, Margy ^, — And a fine woman, and has suitors. \Exit Margaret.
Hem. How ! What suitors arc they?
Vand. Bachelors, young burghers ; And one a gallant ; the j^oung prince of merchants We call him here in Bruges.
Hem. How ! a merchant !
' Margti\ So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio " Margaret " ; and so Seward.
» errand^ Seward silently printed "errand here."
' Margy] So the first folio {'^ Margee" ). — The 4to and the second folio " Marget '". — Seward pi-intcd " Margaret."
38 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ii.
I thought, Vandunk, you had understood me better. And my niece too, so trusted to you by me, Than to admit of such in name of suitors.
Vand. Such ! he is such a such, as, were she mine, I ^d give him thirty thousand crowns with her.
Hem. But the same things, sir, fit not you and me. [Exit.
Vand. Why, give 's some wine, then ; this will fit us all.
[Drinks. Here 's to you still, my captain's friend, all out ! And still would Wolfort were an honest man ! Under the rose I speak it. — But this merchant Is a brave boy : he hves so, i' the town here. We know not what to think on him : at some times We fear he will be bankrupt ; he does stretch. Tenter his credit so " ; embraces all ; And, to 't, the winds have been contrary long : But then, if he should have all his returns. We think he would be a king, and are half sure on 't. — Your master is a traitor, for all this. Under the rose, — here 's to you, — and usurps The earldom from a better man.
Hub. Ay, marry, sir. Where is that man ?
Vand. Nay, soft : an I could tell you, 'Tis ten to one I would not. Here 's my hand ; I love not Wolfort : sit you still with that. Here comes my captain again, and his fine niece ; And there 's my merchant ; view him well. — FDl wine here !
Re-enter Hemskirk and Margaret, with Gertrude and Goswm.
Hem. You must not only know me for your uncle Now, but obey me : you, go cast yom-self Away, upon a dunghill here ! a merchant ! A petty fellow ! one that makes his trade With oaths and perjmdes !
Gos. What is that you say, sir ?
" Tenter Ms credit m\ « i. e. stretch it to the utmost extent, as cloth is ex- panded upon tenter-hooks." Weber.
SCENE 111. J BEGGARS' BUSH. 39
If it be me you speak of, as your eye
Seems to direct, I wish you would speak to nic, sir.
Hem. Sir, I do say, she is uo merchandize : Will that suffice you ? •
Gos. Merchandize, good sir ! Though you be kinsman to her, take uo leave thence To use me with contempt : I ever thought Youi" niece above all price.
Hem. And do so still, su" : I assure you, her rate 's at more than you are \^•orth.
Gos. You do not know what a gentleman 's worth, sir, Nor can you value him.
Hub. Well said, merchant !
Vancl. Nay, Let him alone, and ply your matter.
Hem. A gentleman ! What, o' the w^ool-pack ? or the sugar-chest ? Or lists of velvet ? which is 't, pound or yard, You vent yoiu* gentry by ?
Hub. Oh, Hemskirk, fie !
Vancl. Come, do not mind ^em ; drink. — He is no Wolfort, Captain, I advise you.
Hem. Alas, my pretty man, I think 't be angry, by its look ! come hither. Turn this way a little : if it were the blood Of Charlemagne, as 'i may, for aught I know, Be some good botcher^s issue "•', here in Bruges
Gos. How !
Hem. Nay, I 'm not certain of that ; of this I am. If it once buy and sell, its gentry is gone.
Gos. Ha, ha !
Hem. You are angry, though you laugh.
Gos. No, now 'tis pity Of your poor argument. Do not you, the lords Of land, (if you be any,) sell the grass, The corn, the straw, the milk, the cheese
Vancl. And butter : Remember butter ; do not leave out butter.
" botcher's issue] A botcher is a mender of old clothes.
40 BEGGARS' BUSH. [^c^ n.
Gos. The beefs and muttons, that your grounds are stor'd with? Swine, with the very mast, beside the woods ?
Hem. No ; for those sordid uses we have tenants. Or else our bailiffs.
Gos. Have not we, sir, chapmen And factors, then, to answer these ? Your honour "" , Fetch'd from the heralds^ ABC, and said over. With your court-faces, once an hour, shall never Make me mistake myself. Do not your lawyers Sell all their practice, as your priests their prayers? What is not bought and sold ? the company That you had last, what had you for 't, i' faith ?
Hem. You now grow saucy.
Gos. Sure", I have been bred Still with my honest liberty, and must use it.
Hem. Upon your equals, then.
Gos. Sir, he that will Provoke me first doth make himself my equal.
Hem. Do you hear? no more !
Gos. Yes, sir, this little, I pray you. And 't shall be aside ; then, after, as you please. You appear the uncle, sir, to her I love More than mine eyes ; and I have heard j^our scorns With so much scoffing, and [with] so much shame. As each strive [s] which is greater : but, believe me, I suckM not in this patience with my milk. Do not presume, because you see me young ; Or cast despites on my profession. For the civility and tameness of it : A good man bears a contumely worse Than he would do an injury. Proceed not To my offence : wrong is not still successful ; Indeed, it is not. I Avould approach your kinswoman With all respect done to yourself and her.
[Takes hold 0/ Gertrude's hand.
" honour] So the second folio . — The first foUo and the 4to " errour."
* Sure] Was altered by Seward to " Sir ", because the old reading " would
make him doul)t whether he had been bred with an honest liberty or no." —
" 'Sure' does not imply douht, but affirmation." Ed. Ml^,.
scKNi; III.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 41
Hem. Away, companion'' ! handling her? take that !
[Strikes him.
Gos. Nay, I do love no blows, sir : there 's exchange !
[Gets Hemskirk's sword, cuts him on the head tvith it, and then throws it off the stage.
Hub. Hold, sir !
Marg. Oh, murder !
Gert. Help my Goswin !
Marg. Man> !
Vand. Let 'em alone. My life for one !
Gos. Nay, come, If you have will.
Hub. None to offend you I, sir.
Gos. He that had, thank himself ! — Not hand her ? yes, sir. And clasp her, and embrace her ; and (would she Now go ^vitli me) bear her through all her race. Her father, brethren, and her uncles, arm'd, And all their nephews, though they stood a wood Of pikes, and wall of cannon. — Kiss me, Gertrude ; Quake not, but kiss me.
Vand. Kiss him, girl ; I bid you. — My merchant royal ! Fear no uncles : hang 'em. Hang up all micles ! Are we not in Bruges, Under the rose here ?
Gos. In this circle, love. Thou art as safe as in a tower of brass. Let such as do wrong, fear.
Vand. Ay, that 's good : Let Wolfort look to that.
Gos. Sir, here she stands. Your niece, and my belov'd. One of these titles She must apply to : if unto the last. Not all the anger can be sent unto her. In frown or voice, or other art^, shall force her,
' companion] Eijuivalent to — fellow.
* iV/ciH] " i. e. husband, with which signification it is still used in Scotlan<I." Weber.
^ other art] "Mr. Theobald altered the last word to 'act.' But, a.s Mr Mason observes, 'ancient dramatic writers frequently u.sc these two word.s to
'12 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ii.
Had Hercules a hand in 't. — Come^ my joj^, Say thou art mine aloud, love, and profess it, Vand. Do ; and I drink to it. Gos. Prithee, say so, love.
Gert. ^Twould take away the honour from my blushes ; — Do not you play the tyrant, sweet; — they speak it. Hem. I thank you, niece. Gos. Sir, thank her for your life ; And fetch your sword within. Hem. You insult too much With your good fortune, sir.
[Exeunt GoswiN and Gertrude, Hub. A brave clear spirit ! — Hemskirk, you were to blame : a civil habit Oft covers a good man ; and you may meet. In person of a merchant, with a soul As resolute and free, and all ways worthy, As else in any file of mankind. Pray you, What meant you so to slight him?
Hem. 'Tis done now ; Ask no more of it ; I must suffer. [Emt.
Hub. This Is still the punishment of rashness — sorrow. Well, I must to the woods, for nothing here Will be got out. There I may chance to learn Somewhat to help my inquiries further. [Aside.
Vand. Ha ! A looking-glass^ !
express the same idea.' The editors of the edition of 1750 introduced, and those of ]778 contmued the same alteration in the followmg passage of The Custom of the Country :
' Though my desii'es were loose, from unchaste art, Heaven knows, I am free.' " Weber.
In the pi'esent passage, I think, Theobald's alteration is not requu'ed : in that just cited from The Custom of the Country (see vol. iv. 493) it is absolutely necessary.
^ A looMng -glass'] " Does not Vandunk here, now grown quite fuddled, call for an utensil at this day known among di*inkers by the name of a loohinr/- r/lass?" Ed. 1778. "The interpretation of the editoi's is certamly right, as the word is used with the same meaning in the old English translation of Drunlccn Barnahy^s Jownal, edit. 1805, p. 41." Weber.
SCENE IV.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 43
Hub. How now, brave burgomaster?
Vand. I love no Wolforts, and my name's Vandunk.
Hub. A'^an-drunk it 's rather. Come, go sleep within.
Vand. Earl Florez is right hen* ; and this same Wolfort, — Under the rose I speak it
Hub. Very hai'dly'\
Vand. Usm'ps ; and a rank traitor, as ever breath' d, And all that do uphold him. Let me go ; No man shall hold me [up] ^, that upholds him. Do you uphold him ?
Hub. No.
Vand. Then hold me up. [Exeunt.
SCENE lY. — Befoi-e the house of Vandunk. JEnter Goswin and Hemskirk.
Hem. Sir, I presume you have a sword of youi* own. That can so handle another's.
Gos. Faith, jou may, sir.
Hem. And you have made me have so much better thoughts of you, As I am bound to call you forth.
Gos. For what, sii* ?
Hem. To the repaii'ing of mine honour and hurt here.
Gos. Express yoiu* way.
Hem. By fight, and speedily.
Gos. You have youi* will. Require you any more ?
Hem. That you be secret, and come single.
Gos. I will.
Hem. As you are the gentleman you would be thought !
Gos. Without the conjui-ation : and I '11 bring Only my sword, which I will fit to yom's. I '11 take his"^ length Avithin.
'' Very hardly'\ " i. e. you speak it with great difficulty." Weber. "^ hold me [«^)] ] The last word was rightly inserted Ijy Seward (who state.=, erroneously, that the old copies read " hold he "). <• his] Silently altered to "its" by Seward ; and so his successors.
44 BEGGARS' BUSH. (act hi.
Hem. Yoiir place now, sir ?
Gos. By the sand-hills.
Hem. Sir, nearer to the woods, Tf you thought so, were fitter.
Gos. There, then.
Hem. Good. Your time ?
Gos. 'Twixt seven and eight.
Hem. You '11 give me, sir. Cause to report you worthy of my niece. If you come like your promise.
Gos. If I do not. Let no man think to caU me unworthy first : I '11 do 't myself, and justly wish to want her,
[Eooeunt severally.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — Before a tavern in the outskirts of Bruges.
Enter three or four Boors. First Boor. Come, EngUsh beer, hostess, English beer by
the belly «" ! Sec. Boor. Stark ^ beer, boy, stout and strong beer! — So; sit doMTi, lads. And drink me upsey-Dutch ^ : froUc, and fear not.
e by the belly] Seward, at Sympson's suggestion, printed " by tli barrel " ; and so his successors. But that the old readmg is right, there can be no doubt. We find a similar expression in The Knight of the Burninrj Pestle, act ii. sc. 2. vol. ii. 157, " here's money and gold by th' eye, my boy" ; and in Marlowe's Jetv of Malta, act iii,
" Assui'e thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye." Both " by the belly'' and " by the eye" seem equivalent to — in abundance.
' Stark] " i, e. Strong" Weber. So the second folio. — The first folio and the 4to« Start."
^ upsey-Dutch] According to Gifford, " a thick and heady kind of beer, the common beverage of the Low Countries, was much drunk in England about this time ; and familiarly known by the name of opzee (over sea). As it was of a stu- pifyuig nature, to be lyjsee Dutch was synonymous with being in a state of perfect inebriation, dull, lifeless, &c. Ujisee Freeze (Friesland beer) is a phrase of similar
scKNK I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 45
Enter Higgen disguised as a soic-gekkr, singing as follows.
Have ye any work for the sow-geldcr, ho ? My liornK goes to high, to low, to high, to low ! Have ye any pigs, calves, or colts, Have ye any lambs in your holts,'' To cut for the stone ? Here comes a cunning one. Have ye any braches ' to spade. Or e'er a fail' maid That would be a mm ? Come, kiss me, 'tis done. Hark, how my merry horn doth blow To high, to low, to high, to low !
First Boor. Oh^ excellent ! — Two-pence a-piece, boys, hvo- pence a-piece ! — Give the boyJ some drink there ! — Piper, wet'' your whistle. Canst tell me a way now how to cut off my wife's concupis- cence ? Hiff. I '11 sing you a song for 't. [Sings.
Take her, and hug her,
And tiu-n her, and tug her, And turn her again, boy, again :
Then, if she mumble.
Or if her tail tumble, Kiss her amain, boy, amain !
import, and occurs very frequently in the writers of Jonson's age. To dnnk upsee Dutch or upsee Freeze was to drink swinishly, like a Dutchman, &c. A strong kind of malt liquor, made here in imitation of the Friesland or Oversea beer, was called upsee Enr/lish.'" Note on Jonson's Works, iv. 150. See also the Glossaiv/ of Nares, who doubts if we have yet had the time explanation of the origin of the phrase.
e Myliorn,^c.'\ So in Cornu-CopicB, Pasquils Night-cap, &c. (attributed to Rowlands), 1612;
" And so much credit now attends it [the horn] daily, That euery common Crier, Petie Baily, Swine-heards and braue Sow-fjolders [sic], in a pride Doe beare a home low dangling hy their side." P. 108.
^ Jiolts] Generally signifies — woods, forests (as in vol. ii. 54), — sometimes, wooded hills, liigh gi'ouuds : see Chalmers's Gloss, to Sir D. Lyndsay's Works, and Promptorium Parvulorum, ed. Camden. Here Fletcher evidently used the word for the sake of a rhj-me, and probably intended it to mean simply— pastures.
' hrachcs'\ i. e. bitches : see note, vol. iii. f).
•' hoy'\ Seward's coi-rection, adopted by his successors, — " hoy " meaning either the tavern-boy who brings the drink (compare the first line of the second speech in this scene), or else Higgen.
'' wet'\ Seward chose to print " whet" ; and so his successors ! !
46 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iir.
Do thy endeavour
To take off hei- fever, Then her disease no longer will reign.
If nothing will serve her,
Then thus, to preserve her, Swinge her amaui, boy, amain !
Give her cold jelly.
To take up her belly. And once a day swinge her again.
If she stand all these pains.
Then knock out her brains ; Her disease no longer will reign.
First Boor. More excellent, more excellent, sweet sow-
gelder ! Sec. Boor. Three-pence a-piece, three-pence a-piece ! Hig. Will you hear a song how the devil was gelded ? Third Boor. Ay, ay ; let's hear the devil roar, sow-gelder.
SONGi by HiGGEN.
He ran at me first in the shape of a ram,
And over and over the sow-gelder came :
I riss™, and I halter'd him fast by the horn ;
I pluck'd out his stones, as you'd pick out a corn.
Baa ! quoth the devil, and forth he slunk,
And left us a carcass of mutton that stunk.
The next time, I rode a good mile and a half. Where I heard he did live in disguise of a calf : I bound and I gelt him, ere he did any evil ; He was here at his best but a sucking devil".
Maa ! yet he cried, and forth he did steal.
And this was sold after for excellent veal.
Some half a year after, in the form " of a pig, I met with the rogue, and he look'd very big :
' Song'\ Found only m the second folio.
" riss'\ i. e. rose. Here the old copy has " rise" : but see befoi-e, vol. iv. 7, 97, vol. vi. 435, vol. vii. 19. — A periodical critic, while reviewing some of the earUer volumes of the present work, objected to my retaiiung this archaism : I have, however, the sanction of Gilford for doing so : See -Jonson's Worhs, iv. 259.
n a sud-ing devW] Seward silently printed " a young sucking devil" ; and so the Editors of 1778, — a reading borrowed from Dui-fey's Pills to Purge Melan- choly, where (vol. v. 330) the three stanzas in our text (considerably varied) and two additional ones, make up a ballad called The Qelding the Devil.
0 in the form] Seward silently prmted ^'inform" ; and so the Editors of 1778.
scENKi.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 47
I catch'd at his leg, laid him down on a log ;
Ere a man could fart twice, I had made him a hog. Owgh ! quoth the devil, and forth gave a jerk, That a Jew was converted, and eat of the perk p.
First Boor. Groats a-piccc'', gi'oats a-piece, groats a-piece! — There, sweet sow-gelder. [Gives money.
Enter Vnm disguised as a juggler, and Ferret as his man.
Prig. Will \c see auy feats of activity, Some slight of hand, leger-de-main ? hey, pass. Presto, be gone there ?
Sec. Boor. Sit down, juggler.
Pi'ig. Su'rah, play you your art well [Aside to Ferret] . — Draw near, pipers — [To Higgen.
Look you, my honest friends, jovl see my hands ; Plain-deahng is no devil. Lend me some money ; Twelve-pence a-piece will serve.
First and Sec. Boor. There, there. [Giving money.
Prig. I thank you. Thank ye heartily. When shall I pay ye ?
All the Boors. Ha, ha, ha ! by the mass, this was a fine trick.
Piig. A merry slight toy. But now I ^11 shew your worships A trick indeed.
Hig. Mark him well now, my masters.
Prig. Here are three balls : these balls shall be three bullets. One, two, and three ! ascentibus, malentihus ! Presto, be gone ! They are vanished : fair play, gentlemen. Now, these three, like three bullets, from your three noses Win I pluck presently. Fear not ; no harm, boys. Tityre, tu patula.
[Pulls the Boors' noses, while Higgen and Ferret pick their pockets, and remove some of their cloaks.
P perlc'l " i. e. pork, for the rhyme's sake." Weber. Seward silently prmted "pork."
1 First Boor. Groats a-piece, &c.] This speech was omitted by Weber !!!
' Bravj near, piper] Weber, supposing that '^ piper" meant Feri'et, gave in the stage-direction above, " Enter Prir/ and Ferret, disrjuised as a juggler and a piper." But Higgen is the "piper" : see p. 45, where the First Boor says to him, " Piper, wet your whistle."
48 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act hi.
First Boor. 0\\, oh^ oh !
Prig. Recubans sub j ermine fagi.
Sec. Boor. You pull too hard ; you pull too hard !
Prig. Stand fair, then. Silvertram' trim-tram.
Third Boor. Hold, hold, hold !
Prig. Come aloft, bullets three, with a whim-wham ! — Have ye their moneys ? [Aside to Higgen and Ferret.
Hig. Yes, yes.
First Boor. Oh, rare juggler !
Sec. Boor. Oh, admirable juggler !
Prig. One trick more yet. Hey, come aloft ! sa, sa, flim, flum, taradumbis ! East, west, north, south, now fly like Jack with a bumbis ! Now all your money 's gone : pray, search your pockets.
First Boor. Humh !
Sec. Boor. He !
Third Boor. The devil a penny 's here !
Prig. This was a rare trick.
First Boor. But 'twould be a far rarer to restore it.
Prig. I'll do ye that too. Look upon me earnestly. And move not any ways your eyes from this place. This button here.
[While the Boors look at Prig, counters are put into their pockets by Higgen and Ferret.
Pow, whir, whiss ! Shake your pockets.
First Boor. By the mass, 'tis here again, boys.
Prig. Rest ye merry : My first trick has paid me.
All the Boors. Ay, take it, take it. And take some drink too.
Prig. Not a drop now, I thank you. — Away! we are discover'd else.
[Exit with Higgen and Ferret.
' Silvertram'] So both the folios.— The 4to has « Silvestram" : but probably the learned Prig rejects Virgil's word (" Silvestrem"), with a sly allusion to the diver which is now vanishing from the Boors' pockets.
SCENE I] BEGGARS' BUSH. 49
Enter Clause disguised as a blind aquavitce-man, and a Boy who sings as follows:
Bring out your cony-skins '■, fair maids, to me,
And hold 'em fair, that I may sec ;
Grey, black, and blue : for your smaller skins,
I "11 give ye looking-glasses, pins ;
And for your whole cony.
Here's ready, ready money.
Come, gentle Joan, do thou begin
With thy black, black, black cony-skin ;
And Mary then, and Jane will follow.
With their silver-hair'd skins and their yellow.
The white cony-skm I will not lay by,
For, though it be faint, 'tis fair to the eye ;
The gi'oy, it is warm ; but yet, for my money.
Give me the bonny, bonny black cony.
Come away, fair maids ; your skins will decay :
Come and take money, maids ; put yom' ware away.
Cony-skins, cony-skins ! have ye any cony-skins ?
I have fine bracelets, and fine silver pins.
Clause. Buy any brand- wine', buy any brand- wine ?
Boy. Have ye any cony-skins ?
Sec. Boor. My fine canary-bird, there's a cakefor thy worship.
Firsl Boor. Come, fill, fill, fill, fill, suddenly. Let's see, su-; What's this? ^1
Clause. A penny, sii*.
First Boor. Fill till't be six-pence. And there 's my pig^ .
Boy. This is a counter, sir.
First Boor. A counter ! Stay you: what are these, then ? —
Oh, execrable juggler ! oh, damn'd juggler !
Look in your hose^', ho ! this comes of looking forward.
Third Boor. De^dl a Dunkirk ! what a rogue's this juggler. This hey-pass, re-pass ! h' as repass'd us sweetly.
Sec. Boor. Do ye call these tricks ?
• Bring <nU your cony-skins, &c.] This song (with some variations) is found in Durfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy, vol. v. 303.
' brand-u-inc'\ "Brandy, and other spirits, are called brand icine in the Low Countries and Germany." Wkber (after Reed).
" WJiat 's this?] i. e. what is the price of the quantity of spirits now poured out for me ?
* pig] " i. e. sixpence." Theobald. '" hose] i. e. breeches.
VOL. IX. E
50 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act in.
Re-enter Higgen, disguised as a gold-end-man "'. Hig. Have ye any ends of gold or silver ? Sec. Boor. This fellow comes to mock us. — Gold or silver !
cry copper ! First Boor. Yes, my good friend, We have e'en an end of aU we have.
Hig. 'Tis well, sir; You have the less to care for. — Gold and silver! [Exit.
Re-enter Prig, disguised as an old-clothes-man. Prig. Have ye any old cloaks to sell, have ye any old cloaks to sell ? [Exit.
First Boor. Cloaks ! — Look about ye, boys ; mine's gone ! Sec. Boor. A [pox] " juggle 'em ! [Pox] o' their prestoes ! mine 's gone too ! Third Boor. Here 's mine yet.
First Boor. Come, come, let 's drink, then. — More brand- wine ! Boy. Here, sir.
Fh'st Boor. If e'er I catch your sow-gelder, by this hand, I'U strip him. Were ever fools so ferk'd ? ^ We have two cloaks yet. And all our caps : the devil take the flincher ! All the Boors. Yaw, yaw, yaw, yaw !
Enter Hemskirk. Hem. Good den,^ my honest fellows : You are merry here, I see.
"' Re-enter Higgen, disguised as a gold-end-inan] The old eds. have merely " Ente7' Higgen^'' ; and so the modern editors,^ — except Weber, who gave "Enter Higgen, disguised as a buyer of old gold and silver lace ", — wrongly. — "A gold-end- moM is one who buys broken pieces of gold and silvei', an itinerant jeweller. In the Beggars'' Bush, Higgen enters, crying ' Have ye any ends of gold or silver ? ' words which might be heard every day in the streets of London." GifFord's note on Jonson's WorJcs, iv. 79. Compare a copy of verses among the Commendatory Poems prefixed to the first vol. of the present work, p. liii ; " Thus ends-of-gold-and-silver-men are made. As th' use to say, goldsmiths of his own trade."
" [poa;] Here, and in the next line, the old eds. have a break.
y ferFd] "i. e. cheated, fobbed." Ed. 1778. See note, vol. iv. 216.
' Good deii] A coriiiption of good e'en, good evening. — Old eds. " Oood do'n." — Seward silently printed " Oood ev'n."
SCENE I ] BEGGARS' BUSH, 51
Third Boor. 'Tis all wc have left, sir.
Hem. What hast thou V aquavitse ?
Boy. Yes.
Hem. Fill out, theu ; And give these honest fellows round.
All the Boors. We thank you.
Hem. ]\Iay I speak a word in private to ye ?
All the Booi's. Yes, sir.
Hem. I have a business for you, honest friends, If you dare lend your help, shall get you crowns.
Clause. Ha ! Lead me a little nearer, boy. [Aside to Boy.
First Boor. ^Vhat is 't, sir ? If it be any thing to purchase money (Which is our want), command us.
All the Boors. All, all, all, sir.
Hem. You know the young spruce merchant in* Bruges ?
Sec. Boor. AVho, Master Goswin ?
Hem. That : he owes me money. And here in town there is no stirring of him.
Clause. Say you so ? [Aside.
Hem. This day, upon a sirre appointment. He meets me a mile hence, by the chase-side. Under the row of oaks : do you know it ?
All the Boors. Y"es, sir.
Hem. Give ^em more cbink. — There, if you dare but venture. When I shall give the word, to seize upon him. Here's twenty poimd.
Third Boor. Beware the juggler !
Hem. If he resist, down with him, have no mercy.
First Boor. I warrant you, we '11 hamper him.
Hem. To discharge you, I have a warrant here about me.
Third Boor. Here 's our warrant ; This carries fire i' the tail. [Shewing his cialgel.
Hem. Away with me, then ! the time draws on. —
» merchant ««] Seward silently printed " merchant hei-e in ". E 2
52 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act in.
I must remove so insolent a suitor, And, if he be so rich, make him pay ransom Ere he see Bruges' towers again. Thus wise men Repair the hurts they take by a disgrace, And piece the lion's skin with the fox's case^. [Aside.
Clause. I am glad I have heard this sport yet. [Aside.
Hem. There 's for thy drink. — Come, pay the house within, boys. And lose no time.
Clause. Away with all our haste too !
[Exeunt, on one side, Yl^M^KiViK, followed by the Boors ; on the other, Clause and Boy.
SCENE II. — A chase bordering on the woods near Bruges.
Enter Goswin. Gos. No wind blow fair yet ? no return of moneys. Letters, nor any thing to hold my hopes vip ? Why, then, 'tis destin'd that I fall, fall miserably. My credit I was built on sinking with me. Thou boisterous North- wind, blowing my misfortunes, And frosting aU my hopes to cakes of coldness, Yet stay thy fury ! give the gentle South Yet leave to court those sails that bring me safety ! And you, auspicious fires ^, bright twins in heaven, Dance on the shrouds ! He blows still stubbornly. And on his boisterous rack "^ rides my sad ruin. There is no help, there can be now no comfort ;
» easel i. e. skin.
•> And you, auspicious fires, &c.] " The bright twins hi heaven are Castor and Pollux, who were supposed to have been converted mto stars, and form the constellation Gemini. When certaui electrical exhalations appeared m a storm about the shrouds of a ship, it was formerly considered as a fortunate omen, and attributed to the presence of Castor and Pollux." Mason. " The same super- stition prevails still in the Mediterranean ; only the auspicious Pagan twins have been converted into the Christian San Elmo, whose proper name is said to have been San Pedro Gonzales Telmo. The same lights are also denominated Corpo Santo." Weber.
•^ racJc} i.e. collection of thin vapoury clouds. — "The present passage", says Weber, " supports Mr. Malone's interpretation of this word strongly ; ' A body of clouds, or rather the coarse of clouds in motion.'' " But see note, vol. ii. 120.
SCENE II.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 53
To-morrow, with the sun-set, sets my credit.
Oh, misery ! thou curse of man, thou plague.
In the midst of '^ all our strength, thou strikest us !
My %T.rtuous love is lost too : all, what I have been,
No more hereafter to be seen than shadow.
To prison now ! Well, yet there ^s this hope left me ;
I may sink faii'ly under this day^s ventiu-e.
And so to-morrow ^s cross M, and all those cm'ses.
Yet manly I '11 invite my fate : base Fortune
Shall never say, she has cut my throat in fear.
This is the place his challenge calFd me to.
And was a happy one at this time for me ;
For let me fall before my foe i' the field,
And not at bar before my creditors !
Enter Hemskirk. H'as kept his word [Aside] . — Now, sir, your sword's tongue only.
Loud as you dare ; all other language
Hem. Well, sir. You shall not be long troubled. Draw.
Gos. 'Tis done, sir ; And now, have at you ! Hem. Now !
Enter Boors, who attempt to seize Goswin. Gos. Betray'd to villains ! — Slaves, ye shall buy me bravely ! — And thou, base coward
Enter Clavse and other Beggars disguised, rcho rt^smV Hemskirk and
the Boors.
Clause. Now upon 'em bravely ! Conjiu-e 'em soundly, boys !
Boors. Hold, hold !
Clause. Lay on still ! Down with that gentleman-rogue, swinge him to syrup ! —
[Hemskirk runs off. Retire, sir, and take breath. — Follow, and take him; Take all; 'tis lawful prize. [Exeunt some of the Beggars.
•= of] So the 4to and the second f(;lio.— Omitted in the first folio.
&4 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act hi.
Boors. We yield.
Clause. Down with ^em ! Into the wood, and rifle 'em, tew^ 'em, swinge 'em ! Knock me their brains into their breeches !
Boors. Hold, hold ! [Exeunt all except Goswin.
Gos. What these men are I know not ; nor for what cause They should thus thrust themselves into my danger Can I imagine — but, sure. Heaven's hand was in 't — Nor why this coward knave should deal so basely. To eat me up with slaves : but. Heaven, I thank thee ! I hope thou hast reserv'd me to an end Fit for thy creature, and worthy of thine honoiir. Would all my other dangers here had ^ sufii'er'd ! With what a joyful heart should I go home, then ! Where now, Heaven knows, like him that waits his sentence. Or hears his passing-bell— but there's my hope still ?.
Re-enter Clause.
Clause. Blessing upon you, master !
Gos. Thank you. Leave me ; For, by my troth, I have nothing now to give thee.
Clause. Indeed, I do not ask, sir ; only it grieves me To see you look so sad. Now, goodness keep you From troubles in your mind !
Gos. If I were troubled. What covdd thy comfort do ? prithee. Clause, leave me.
Clause. Good master, be not angry ; for what I say Is out of true love to you.
Gos, I know thou lov'st me.
Clause. Good master, blame that love, then, if I prove so saucy To ask you why you are sad.
•i tew] i.e. work, dress, — di-ub : see note, vol. iv. 140. « }tad'\ Heath {MS. Notes) would read " I 'd." 8 Where notv, Heaven Inows, like him that tvaits his sentence, Or hears his passing -hell— Ua there's my hope still] " ' Where ', i. e. Whereas." Weber — "This is obscure; but we apprehend the meaning to be, that Goswin still hopes for assistance from Heaven." Ed. 177». Such is doubtless the meaning of the passage (and so it had been explained, at an earlier date, by Heath in his MS. Notes).
SCENE 11.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 55
Gos. Most true, I am so ; And such a sadness I have got will sink me. Clause. Heaven shield it, sir ! Gos. Faith, thou must lose thy master. Clause. I had rather lose my neck, sir. AVould I knew
Gos. What would the knowledge do thee good (so miserable Thou canst not help thyself), when all my ways, Nor all the friends I have
Clause. You do not know, sii'. What I can do : cui'es, sometimes, for men's cares, Flow where they least expect 'em.
Gos. I knoAv thou wouldst do : But, farewell. Clause, and pray for thy poor master.
Clause. I will not leave you.
Gos. How !
Clause. I dai'e not leave you, sir?, I must not leave you, And, till you beat me dead, I will not leave you. ^j what you hold most precious, by Heaven's goodness. As youi- fair youth may prosper, good sir, tell me ! My mind beheves yet something 's in my power May ease you of this trouble.
Gos. I will tell thee. For a hundred thousand crowns, upon my credit. Taken up of merchants to supply my traffics. The winds and weather envying of my fortime, And no retiu'n to help me off yet shewing, To-morrow, Clause, to-morrow, which must come. In prison thou shalt find me poor and broken '' .
Clam'e. I cannot blame yoiu' grief, sir.
Gos. Now, what say'st thou ?
Clause. I say, you should not shrink ; for he that gave you^ Can give you more ; his power can bring you off, sir ; When friends and all forsake you, yet he sees you.
Gos. There's ' all my hope.
K / dare not leave you, sir, &e.] So the second folio. — The first folio and the •Ito have ;
" / dare not leave ye, And till ye beatc me dead, J must not leave yc." •" hrokcn'\ " i. e. bankrupt." Webkr.
' Thcrcs'\ So the second folio. — The first folio and the Ito " That's" . Compare p. 54, ;. 16.
56 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act in-
Clause. Hope still,, sir. Ai-e you tied Within the compass of a day, good master. To pay this mass of money ?
Gos. Even to-morrow. But why do I stand mocking of my misery ? Is ^t not enough the floods and friends forget me ?
Clause. Will no less serve ?
Gos. What if it would?
Clause. Your patience : I do not ask to mock you. 'Tis a great sum, A sum for mighty men to start and stick at ; But not for honest. Have you no friends left you, None that have felt your bounty, worth this duty ?
Gos. Duty ! thou know^st it not.
Clause. It is a duty. And, as a duty, from those men have felt you. Should be return'd again. I have gain'd by you j A daily alms these seven years you have showered onJ me. Will half supply your want ?
Gos. Why dost thou fool me ? Canst thou work miracles ?
Clause. To save my master, I can work this.
Gos. Thou wilt make me angry with thee.
Clause. For doing good?
Gos. What power hast thou ?
Clause. Inquire not. So I can do it, to preserve my master. Nay, if it be three parts
Gos. Oh, that I had it ! But, good Clause, talk no more ; I feel thy charity. As thou hast felt mine : but, alas
Clause. Distrust not ; 'Tis that that quenches you : pull up your spirit, Yom" good, youi' honest, and your noble spirit ; For, if the fortunes of ten thousand people Can save you, rest assiu-M. You have forgot, sir. The good you did, which was the power you gave me :
i on] So the second folio. — Omitted in the first folio and in the 4to.
scENKiv.i BEGGARS' BUSH. 57
You shall now know the King of Beggars' treasure ; And let the winds blow as they list**, the seas roar, Yet here to-morrow you shall find yom* harboiu-. Here fail me not, for, if I live, I '11 fit you.
Gos. How fain I would believe thee !
Clause. If I lie, master. Believe no man hereafter.
Gos. I ^vill try thee : But He knows, that knows all.
Clause. Know me to-morrow. And, if I know not how to cui'e you, kill me. So, pass in peace, my best, my worthiest master !
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. — The interior of the woods near Bruges. Enter Hubert disguised as a huntsman. Hub. Thus have I stoln away disguis'd from Hemskirk, To try these people ; for my heart yet teUs me Some of these beggars are the men I look for. Appearing like mj^self, they have no reason (Though my intent is fair, my main end honest) But to avoid me narrowly. That face too. That woman's face, how near it is ! Oh, may it But prove the same, and. Fortune, how I '11 bless thee ! Thus, sure, they cannot know me, or suspect me. If to my habit I but change my nature, As I must do. This is the wood they live in; A place fit for concealment ; where, till fortune Crown me with that I seek, I '11 live amongst 'em. [Eont.
SCENE IV. — Another part of the ivoods. Enter Higgen, Prig, Ferret, Ginks, and other Beggars, with
the Boors. Hig. Come, bring 'em out, for here we sit in justice. Give to each one a cudgel, a good cudgel : — And now attend yom- sentence. That you are rogues,
'' list] So the second folio. — The first foho and tho Ito " i)leasc."
58 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act hi.
And mischievous base rascals, — there 's the point now, — I take it, is confessed.
Priff. Deny it if you dare, knaves !
Booi's. We are rogues, sir.
Hig. To amplify the matter, then ; rogues as ^ ye are, (And lamm'di ye shall be ere we leave ye) —
Boors. Yes, sir.
Hig. And to the open handling of our justice, — Why did ye this upon the proper person Of our good master ? were you drunk when you did it ?
Boors. Yes, indeed, were we.
Prig. You shall be beaten sober.
Hig. Was it for want you undertook it ?
Boors. Yes, sir.
Hig. You shall be swinged abundantly.
Prig. And yet, for all that. You shall be poor rogues still.
Hig. Has not the gentleman, — Pray, mark this point, brother Prig,— that noble gentleman, Reliev'd ye often, found ye means to live by. By employing some at sea, some here, some there. According to your callings ?
Boors. 'Tis most true, sir.
Hig. Is not the man an honest man ?
Boors. Yes, truly.
Hig. A liberal gentleman ? and, as ye are true rascals. Tell me but this, — have ye not been drunk, and often. At his charge ?
Boors. Often, often.
Hig. There 's the point, then : They have cast themselves, brother Prig.
Prig. A shrewd point, brother.
Hig. Brother, proceed you now ; the cause is open ; I am somewhat weary.
Prig. Can you do these things, You most abominable stinking rascals. You turnip-eating rogues ?
^ ns'] Silently omitted by Seward ; and so his successors. ' lamm'd] i. o. beaten.
SCENE IV. ] BEGGARS' BUSH. 59
Boors. Wc are truly sorry.
Prig. Knock at your hard hearts, rogues, and presently Give us a sign you feel compunction : Eveiy man up withes cudgel, and on his neighbour Bestow such alms, till we shall say sufficient, (For there yoiu- sentence lies,) without partiality. Either of head or hide, rogues, without sparing. Or we shall take the pains to beat you dead else. You know "> your doom.
Hig. One, two, and three ! about it ! [Boors beat one another.
Prig. That fellow in the blue has true compunction ; He beats his fellow" bravely. — Oh, well struck, boys !
Enter Clause. Hig. Up with that blue breech ! now plays he the de^il ! — So; get ye home, drink small beer, and be honest.
\Exeunt Boors. Call in the gentleman.
Clause. Do, bring him presently ; His cause 1^11 hear myself. [Exeunt some of the Beggars.
Hig. Prig. With all due reverence. We do resign, sir.
Re-enter Beggars with Hemskirk.
Clause. Now, huffing sh", what's }'oui' name V
Hem. What 's that to you, sir ?
Clause. It shall be, ere we part.
Hem. My name is Hemskirk. I follow the earl, which you shall feel.
Clause. No threatening. For we shall cool you, sir. Why didst thou basely Attempt the mm'der of the merchant Goswin ?
Hem. What power hast thou to ask me ?
Clause. I will know it. Or flay thee till thy pain discover it.
"' You, hioto'] Old cds. " You shall knoio^'. The Editoi's of 1778 very properly threw out " shall", sechig that it " had been copied h\ mistake from the preceding line." Weber, however, replaced it in the text.
" fellow] Old eds. " fcllowes" and " fellows".
GO BEGGARS' BUSH. [act ni.
Hem. He did me wrong, base wrong.
Clause. That cannot save you. Who sent you hither ? and what further villanies Have you in hand ?
Hem. Why wouldst thou know ? what profit, If I had any private way, could rise Out of my knowledge, to do thee commodity » ? Be sorry for what thou hast done, and make amends, fool : I ^11 talk no further to thee, nor these rascals.
Clause. Tie him to that tree. [Theij tie him to a tree.
Hem. I have told you whom I follow.
Clause. The devil you should do, by your villanies. — Now he that has the best way, wi'ing it from him.
Hig. I undertake it. Turn him to the sun, boys : Give me a fine sharp rush. — Will you confess yet ?
Hem. Ye have robb'd me already ; now you ^11 murder me.
Hig. Murder your nose a httle. Does your head purge, sir? To it again ; 'twill do you good.
Hem. Oh, I cannot tell you any thing !
Clause. Proceed, then. \To Higgen.
Hig. There 's maggots in your nose ; I '11 fetch 'em out, sir.
Hem. Oh, my head breaks !
Hig. The best thing for the rheum, sir, That falls into your worship's eyes.
Hem. Hold, hold !
Clause. Speak, then.
Hem. I know not what.
Hig. It lies in 's brain yet ; In lumps it lies : I '11 fetch it out the finest ! What pretty faces the fool makes ! heigh !
Hem. Hold, Hold, and I '11 tell ye all ! Look in my doublet, And there, within the lining, in a paper. You shall find all.
Clause. Go fetch that paper hither, And let him loose for this time. [They untie him. — Exit Ferret.
° commodity] i.e. benefit.
SCENE IV.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 61
Enter Hubert disguised as before.
Hub, Good even, my honest friends.
Clause. Good even, good fellow.
Huh. May a poor huntsman, with a merry heart, A voice shall make the forest ring about him. Get leave to live amongst ye ? true as steel, boys ; That knows all chases, and can watch all hours. And with my quarter-staff, though the devil l)id stand. Deal such an alms shall make him roar again ; Prick ye the fearful hare through cross-ways, sheep-walks. And force the crafty Reynard climb the qvdcksets; Rouse ye the lofty stag, and with my bell-horn Ring him a knell, that all the woods shall mourn him, Till, in his fimeral tears, he fall before me ? The pole-cat, martern p, and the rich-skinn'd lucern 'i, I know to chase ; the roe, the wind outstripping ; Isgrin ' himself, in all his bloody anger, I can beat from the bay ; and the wild sounder «
p Traarfem] Or marten, — " a large species of the weesel, the fur of which is held in high estimation." Ed. 1778.
1 lucern} " This animal is nearly the size of a wolf. It is covered with an exceeding rich fur, the colour between red and brown, and something mailed like a cat, intermixed with black spots." Ed. 1778. " A luzarne. Loup cemer." Cotgrave's Diet.
r Isf/rin] Silently altered to " Isgrim " by the Editors of 1 778 ; and so Weber. " The reader need not be told that Isgrim, or Isengrui, is the name of the wolf, and Reynard that of the fox, in the romance which bears the name of the latter, and which has now enjoyed an uninterrupted popularity for six centuries past." Weber.
* and the wdd sounder
Single, and ivith my arm'd staff turn, the hoar, &c.] Seward, according to " the only dictionary in which he could find the word," explained " sounder''^ to be another term for wild boar ; and so his successors : he also, because " the men- tion of both in the same sentence was a tautology," pi'eposterously altered the passage thus, —
" and the ^vUd sounder Single, and with my boar-staff arm'd, thus turn," &c. But "sounder^' is — a herd of wild swine : " To beginne," says Turbervile, " with the termes that are proper for the companies of beasts : you shall vndcrstand that Huntsmen vse to sayo, An Heard of Harts and Hindcs, Bmlcs and Does ; and A Trippe of Gates and Geates ; A heauic of Jiotves; A Sounder of Su-ine," Sec. The Noble Art of Ve^ierie, &c., IGll, p. 237: and "single the wild sounder" means — separate or divide the wild sounder : Tm'bcrvile (speaking of the hart) tells us, " When he is hunted, and doth first leaue the heard, we say that he is
62 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act hi.
Single, and with my arm'd staff turn the boar, Sjiite of his foamy tushes, and thus strike him, Till he fall down my feast.
Clause. A goodly fellow !
Hub. What mak'st thou here, ha ? {Aside.
Clause. We accept thy fellowship.
Hub. Hemskirk, thou art not right, I fear ; I fear thee.
[Aside. Re-enter Ferret, with a paper.
Fer. Here is the paper; and, as he said, we found it.
Clause. Give me it. — I shall make a shift yet, old as I am. To find yom- knavery. [Reads'] You are sent here, sirrah, To discover certain gentlemen, a spy-knave. And, if ye find 'em, if not by persuasion To bring 'em back, by poison to despatch 'em.
Hub. By poison ! ha ! [Aside.
Clause. Here is another, Hubert : What is that Hubert, sir ?
Hem. You may perceive there.
Clause. I may perceive a villany, and a rank one. Was he join'd partner of thy knavery ?
Hem. No; He had an honest end (would I had^ had so !) ; Which makes him scape such cut-throats.
Clause. So it seems ; For here thou art commanded, when that Hubert Has done his best and worthiest service this way, To cut his throat; for here he's set down dangerous.
Hub. This is most impious. [Aside.
Clause. I am glad we have found you. Is not this true ?
Singled or emprymed." Ibid., p. 244 : compare also a passage in Sir P. Sidney's Arcadia ;
" Deadlie wounds inward bleed ; each sleight sore mattereth ; Hardlie they heard [herd] which by good himters singled be."
Lib. i. p. 74. ed. 1598. Nares (Gloss, in v. Sound er),haYmg missed the meanmg of "single," proposed, very unnecessarily, to read,
" from the wild sounder Single," &c. ' liadl So the 4to and the second foUo.— The first foho « have ".
SCENE IV.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 63
Hem. Yes; what are you the better?
ClaiLse. You shall perceive, sir, ere you get your freedom. — Take him aside. — And, friend, vrc take thee to us, Into om' company. Thou dar'st be true uuto us ?
Hig. Ay, and obedient too ?
Hub. As you had bred me.
Clause. Then, take om- hand ; thou art now a servant to
us.
Welcome him, all.
Hig. Stand off, stand off: I'll do it.— We bid you welcome three ways ; first, for your person, Which is a promising person ; next, for your quality ', Which is a decent and a gentle quality ; Last, for the frequent means you have to feed us : You can steal, 'tis to be presumed ?
Hub. Yes, venison. Or, if I want "
Hig. 'Tis well ; you understand right, And shall practise '' daily. You can di-ink too ?
Hub. Soundly.
Hig. And you dare know a woman from a weather-cock ?
Hub. Yes, if I handle her.
Clause. Now swear him " .
Hig. I crown thy nab ^ with a gage of bene-bowse,
' qiuility'] i. e. occupation.
" Or, if I want—] So the first folio and the 4to.— The second folio " And if you want " ; and so Seward.
» practise] So the second folio.— The first foHo and the 4to "learne"; and so Weber.
" Now swear him] " There is here a gi'eat confusion ui the first folio [and in the 4to]. The « stalling" of Hubert and the subsequent explanation of the cant terms are transferred from the present place to the end of the speech of Hubert, on page 65,
' Be not so stubborn : I shall swinge you soundly, An you play tricks with me ' ; — and the words of Clause, " Noio swear him ", are there repeated. The present re<nilation was introduced into the second foho, and proves what has been asserted before, that considerable pains were taken with that edition, and that manuscripts of the plays were on many occasions consulted ". Weber.
" / crown thy nab &c.] " i. e. Uterally,— 'I crowi thy head with a quart-pot of good drmk, and ordain thee by the beggars' oath (— " Salomon, a altar or masse." Cant terms at the end of Hai-man's Caveat for Common Cursetors, ed. 1573—)
64 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act hi.
And stall thee by the salmon into the clowes ; To maund on the pad, and strike all the cheats. To mill from the rufFmans commission and slates, Twang dells i' the strommel, and let the queer-cuffin And harmanbecks trine, and trine to the ruffin !
Clause. Now interpret this unto him.
Hig. I pour on thy pate a pot of good ale, And by the rogues' oath a rogue thee instal ; To beg on the way, to rob all thou meets. To steal from the hedge both the shirt and the sheets, And lie with thy wench in the straw till she twang, Let the constable, justice, and devil go hang ! — You are welcome, brother !
All. Welcome, welcome, welcome ! — But who shall have the keeping of this fellow ?
Hub. Thank ye, friends : And I beseech ye, if ye dare ^ but trust me
into the company of rogues ; to beg on the road, and rob all you meet, to steal from the hedges shu't and sheets, he with maids (see note on "dells" p. 25) in the straw, and let the justice and constables hang, and go to the devil !' Old eds. have "gag", "benbouse", "stiromell", and " Hennan (and Hermon) Beck strine" : the spelling of these words was rectified by the Editors of 1778 ; who also printed " Salomon", but imnecessarily, for we find in the Canting Ritlimes in Dekker's English Villanies, &c. sig. N. 3. ed. 1632,
' Cyarum, by Salmon, and thou shalt pek my jere.' "
Weber (the note altered) At the commencement of this speech, Higgen is supposed to empty the pot of drink on Hubert's head : " This done, the Grand Signior called for a Qage of Bowse, which belike signified a quart of di'inke ; for presently a po^ of Ale being put into his hand, hee made the yong Squire kneele downe, and, powi-mg the full pot on his pate, vttered these wordes, ' I doe stall thee," &c. Dekker's Belman of London, &c. sig. C. ed. 1608.
y All. Welcome, welcome, welcome/ — Biot who shall have the Jceeping of this fclloiv ?
Huh. Thanh ye, friends : And I beseech ye, if ye dare, &c.] So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio ;
"All. Welcom, welcom, welcom, but who shall have the keeping Of this fellow ?
Hub. Su', if you dare," &c. and so Seward. — Tlie Editors of 1778 pruited ;
" All. Welcome, welcome, welcome !
Hub. Thank ye, friends.
Clause. But who shall have the keeping of this fellow ?
Hub. I do beseech ye, if ye dare", &c.
SCENE IV.] BEGGARS' BUSH. G5
(For I ^ have kept wild dogs and beasts for wonder,
And made 'em tame too), give into my custody
This roaring rascal : I shall hamper him,
With all his knacks and knaveries, and, I fear me,
Discover yet a foi'ther ^'illany in him :
Oh, he smells rank o' the rascal !
Clause. Take him to thee ; But, if he scape
Hub. Let me be even hang'd for him. — Come a, sir, I '11 tie you to my leash.
Hem. Away, rascal !
Hub. Be not so stubborn : I shall swinge you soundly, An you play tricks with me.
Clause. So, now come in : But ever have an eye, sir, to yoiu" prisoner.
Hub. He must blind both mine eyes, if he get from me.
Clause. Go, get some victuals and some drink, some good drink ; For this day we '11 keep holy to good fortune. Come, and be frolic with us.
Hig. You are a stranger, brother; I pray, lead ; You must, you must, brother ^\ [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — Bruges. A room in the house o/Vandunk.
Enter Goswin and Gertrude.
Gert. Indeed you're welcome : I have heard your scape; And therefore give her leave, that only loves you, Truly and dearly loves you, give her joy leave To bid you welcome. What is 't makes you sad, man ?
But, as Weljer remarks, Clause would not ask who should have the keeping of Hemskirk, the power to detennine it being in himself.
^ For 7] Old eds. « For if /."
* Come'] So the second folio. — The first folio and the 4to " Roome ".
'' You are a stranger, brother ; I pray, lead ; You must, you must, brother] So the second foho. — The first foho and the 4 to have merely " Ye are a stravrier ".
VOL. IX. F
66 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act in.
Why do you look so wild ? is ^t I offend you ? Beshi'cw my hearty not willingly.
Gos. No, Gertrude.
Gett. Is ^t the delay of that you long have looked for^ — ■ A happy marriage ? Now I come to urge it ; Now when j^ou please to finish it.
Gos. No news yet ? ' [Aside.
Gert. Do you hear, sir ?
Gos. Yes.
Gert. Do you love me ?
Gos. Have I liv'd In all the happiness fortune could seat me, In all men's fair opinions [Aside.
Gert. I have provided A priest, that 's ready for us.
Gos. And can the devil, In one ten days, that de^dl Chance, devour me ? [Aside.
Gert. We '11 fly to what place you please.
Gos. No star prosperous ? All at a swoop ? [Aside.
Gert. You do not love me, Goswin ; You will not look upon me.
Gos. Can men's prayers, Shot up to Heaven with such a zeal as mine are. Fall back like lazy mists, and never prosper ? Gyves I must wear, and cold must be my comfort ; Darkness, and want of meat. Alas, she weeps too! Which is the top of all my sorrows [Aside^ . — Gertrude !
Gert. No, no, you will not know me ; my poor beauty. Which has been worth your eyes
Gos. The time grows on still ; And, like a tumbhng wave, I see my ruin Come rolling over me. [Aside.
Gert. Yet will you know me ?
Gos. For a hundred thousand crowns [Aside.
Gert. Yet will you love me ? Tell me but how I have deserv'd your slighting ?
Gos. For a hundred thousand crowns [Aside.
Gert. Farewell, dissembler ! —
SCENE IV.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 67
Gos. Of which I have scarce ten ! oh, how it starts nie !
[^Asidc.
Gert. And may the next you lo^e, hearing ray ruin
Gos. I had forgot myself. Oh, my best Gertrude, Crown of ray joys and coraforts !
Gert. Sweet, what ail •' you ? I thought you had been vex'd with rae.
Gos. My mind, wench, My mind, o'erflow'd with sorrow, sunk my meraory,
Gert. Ara I not worthy of the knowledge of it ? And cannot I as well affect youi' sorrows As yoiu" delights ? You love no other woraan ?
Gos. No, I protest.
Gert. You have no ships lost lately r
Gos. None that I know of.
Gert. I hope you have spilt no blood, whose innocence May lay this on your conscience.
Gos. Clear, by Heaven!
Gert. Wliy should you be thus, then ?
Gos. Good Gertrude, ask not ; Even by the love you bear rae.
Gert. I am obedient.
Gos. Go in, my fair ; I will not be long from you — Nor long, I fear me ^, with thee [Aside] . — At ray return. Dispose rae as you please.
Gert. The good gods guide you ! [Emt.
Gos. Now for myself^', which is the least I hope for, And, when that fails, for man's worst fortune, pity ! [Exit.
^ what ail\ So the first folio and the 4to. — The second foHo "icJtat ails" ; and so the modern editors : but the other reading is the more usual phraseology of the time.
*= «ie] Weber chose to omit this word.
^ myself] Heath would read "his help," i.e. "the help promised him by Clause, upon which, it was plain by what Goswin had said at the end of the second scene of this act, he had very little dependence." MS. Notes. But the old text is, T think, right.
F 2
68 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act n.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.— Bruges. The Exchange.
Enter Goswin and four Merchants.
Gos. Why, gentlemen, 'tis but a week more I entreat yon. But seven short days ; I am not running from ye ; Nor, if you give me patience, is it possible All my adventures fail. You have ships abroad Endure the beating both of wind and *" weather : I am sure 'twould vex your hearts to be protested : Ye are all fair merchants.
First Mer. Yes, and must have fair play ; There is no living here else : one hoiu-'s failing Fails us of all our friends, of all our credits. For my part, I would stay, but my wants tell me, I must wrong others in 't.
Gos. No mercy in ye ?
Sec. Mer. 'Tis foolish to depend on others' mercy : Keep yourself right, and even cut your cloth, sii', According to yovu* calling. You have liv'd here In lord-hke prodigality, high, and open, And now you find what 'tis : the hberal spending The summer of your youth, which you should glean in, And, like the laboming ant, make use and gain of. Has brought this bitter stormy winter on you, And now you cry.
Third Mer. Alas, before your poverty. We were no men, of no mark, no endeavovir ! You stood alone, took up all trade, all business Running through your hands, scarce a sail at sea But loaden with yom* goods : we, poor weak pedlars, "WTien by your leave, and much entreaty to it, We could have stowage for a little cloth Or a few wines, put off', and thank ['d] yoiu" worship.
« aw(Z] So the second folio. — The fii'st foho and the 4to " or". ' pw< off'\ " i. e. pulled off oiu- hats." Mason.
scKNEi.J BEGGARS' BUSH. 69
Lord, liow the world 's changed with you ! Now^ I hope, sii-, We shall have sea-room.
Gos. Is my misery Become my scorn too? have ye no humanity? No pai't of men left ? are all the bounties in me To you, and to the town, turn'd my reproaches ?
FourtJi Mer. Well, get yom* moneys ready : 'tis but two hours ; We shall protest you else, and suddenly.
Gos. But two days !
First Mer. Not an hour. You know the hazard.
[Exeunt Merchants.
Gos. How soon my light 's put out ! Hard-hearted Bruges ! Within thy Avails may never honest merchant Venture his fortunes more ! Oh, my poor wench too !
Enter Clause.
Clause. Good fortiuie, master !
Gos. Thou mistak'st me. Clause ; I am not worth thy blessing.
Clause. Still a sad man ? No belief, gentle master ? — Come, bring it in, then. —
Enter Higgen and Prig, disf/uised as porters, bringing in lags of money . And now believe youi* beadsman.
Gos. Is this certain ? Or dost thou work upon my troubled sense ?
Clause. 'Tis gold, sir; Take it, and try it.
Gos. Certainly, 'tis treasure. Can there be yet this blessing ?
Clause. Cease your wonder : You shall not sink for ne'er a sous'd flap-di'agon ^, For ne'er a pickled pilcher '' of 'em all, sii'.
« jlap-drarjon'^ Was a raisiu, a plum, &c. (and sonietiiuus even the end of a candle), made to float in a shallow dish, oi- glass, of brandy or other liquor, from which, w'lien set on fire, it was to be snatched by the month, and swallowed.
'' pilcha-] i. c. pilchard.
70 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
'Tis there ; your full sum^ a hundred thousand crowns : And, good sweet master, now be merry. Pay ^em, Pay the poor pelting '' knaves that know no goodness ; And cheer your heart up handsomely.
Gos. Good Clause, How cam'st thou by this mighty sum ? if naughtily, I must not take it of thee ; ^twill undo me.
Clause. Fear not ; you have it by as honest means As though your father gave it. Sii*, you know not To what a mass the Httle we get daily, Mounts in seven years : we beg it for Heaven's charity. And to the same good we are bound to render it.
Gos. What great security ?
Clause. Away with that, sir ! Were not you more than all the men in Bruges, And all the money, in my thoughts
Gos. But, good Clause, I may die presently.
Clause. Then this dies with you. Pay when you can, good master ; I '11 no parchments : Only this charity I shall entreat you, — Leave me this ring.
Gos. Alas, it is too poor. Clause !
Clause. 'Tis all I ask ; and this withal, that when I shall deliver this back, you shall grant me Freely one poor petition.
Gos. There; I confirm' it; [Gives ring.
And may my faith forsake me when I shun it !
Clause. Away ! your time draws on. — Take up the money. And follow this young gentleman.
Gos. Farewell, Clause, And may thy honest memory live ever !
Clause. Heaven bless you, and still keep you ! farewell, master.
[Exeunt, on one side, Goswin, Higgen, and Prig; on the other. Clause.
h jyeltinrj] i. e. paltry, contemptible.
' confirmi So the second folio.— The first folio and tlie 4to " confessc."
SCENE II.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 71
SCENE II. — The ivoods near Bruges.
Enter Hubert, disguised as before. Hub. I have locked my youth up, close enough for gadding, In an old tree, and set watch over him.
Enter MiNCHE-i. Now for my love, for sm'e this wench must be slie ; She follows me [Asidel . — Come hither, pretty Minclie.
Minche, No, no, you '11 kiss.
Hub. So I will.
Minche. I'deed, la ! How will you kiss me, pray you ?
Hub. Tims {Kisses her'] — Soft as my love's lips ! [Aside.
Minche. Oh!
Hub. What 's your father's name ?
Minche. He 's gone to heaven.
Hub. Is it not GeiTard, sweet ?
Minche. I '11 stay no longer : My mother 's an old woman, and my brother Was drown'd at sea with catching cockles. — Oh, love ! Oh, how my heart melts in me ! how thou fir'st me ! [Aside.
Hub. 'Tis certain she [Aside] . — Pray, let me see your hand, sweet.
Minche. No, no, you '11 bite it.
Hub. Sure, I shoidd know that gimmal**.
Minche. 'Tis certain he: I had forgot my ring too. Oh, Hubert, Hubert ! [Aside.
Hub. Ha ! methought she nam'd me. — [Aside.
Do you know me, chick ?
Minche. No, indeed ; I never saw you ; But, methinks, you kiss finely.
Hub. Kiss again, then. — By Heaven, 'tis she ! [Aside.
J Minche] Sec note, p. 19.
^ f/immcd] i. c. a sort of double ring, curiously constructed (6'immal rings, though orighially double, were also made triple, and even (piadruple ; yet the name remained unchanged). See Nai'es's Gloss, in. v.
72 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Minche. 0\\, what a joy lie brings me ! \_Aside.
Huh. You are not Minche ?
Minche. Yes, pretty gentleman ; And I must be married to-morrow to a capper'.
Hub. Must you, my sweet ? and does the capper love you?
Minche. Yes, yes ; he '11 give me pie, and look in mine
eyes thus.
'Tis he ; 'tis my dear love ! oh, blest fortune ! [Aside.
Hub. How fain she would conceal herself, yet shew [s] it ! —
[Aside. Will you love me, and leave that man ? I '11 serve — '"
Minche. Oh, I shall lose myself ! [Aside.
Hub. I '11 wait upon you. And make you dainty nosegays.
Minche. And where will you stick 'em ?
Hub. Here in thy bosom ; and " make a crown of lilies For your fair head.
Minche. And will you love me, 'deed la ?
Hub. "With all my heart.
Minche. Call me to-morrow, then, And we '11 have brave cheer, and go to chm'ch together. Give you good even, sir.
Hub. But one word, fair Minche !
Minche. I must be gone a-milking.
Hub. You shall presently. Did you never hear of a young maid call'd Jacqueline ?
Minche. I am discover'd [Aside'] . — Hark in your ear ; I '11 tell you : You must not know me ; kiss, and be constant ever.
Hub. Heaven curse me else ! [Ej:^it Jacqueline.
'Tis she ; and now I am certain They are all here. Now for my other project ! [Exit.
' a capper] " One who makes or sells caps." Ed. 1778 (from Johnson's Diet.).
"> I'll serve — ] " So the old eds. The modern copies, '/'/J sen'e you.'" Weber.
" in thy bosom ; and] The first folio and the 4to " in bosome, and." — The second folio " in my bosom, Sweet, aoid." — The modern editors print " in thy bosom, sweet ; and.'"
SCENE III.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 73
SCENE III.— Brtff/es. —The Exchange.
Enter Goswin, four Merchants ; Higgen and Prig, disguised as be/ore, with hags of money.
First Mer. Nay, if 'twould do you courtesy —
Gos. None at all, sir : Take it, 'tis yom's ; tliere 's yoiu- ten thousand for you ; Give in my bills. — Yoiu' sixteen,
TJiird Mer. Pray, be pleas' d, sir. To make a further use.
Gos. No.
Third Mer. What I have, sii-, You may command. Pray, let me be youi' seiTant.
Gos. Put your hats on : I care not for your courtesies ; They are most untimely done, and no truth in 'em.
Sec. Mer. I have a fraught " of pepper
Gos. Rot your pepper ! Shall I tinist you again ? There 's your seven thousand.
Fourth Mer. Or, if you want fine sugar, 'tis but sending.
Gos. No, I can send to Barbary ; those people. That never yet knew faith, have nobler freedoms. — These carry to Vanlock, and take my bills in ; To Peter Zuten these ; bring back my jewels. — Wliy are these pieces ? [Guns fired within.
Enter Sailor.
Sail. Health to the noble merchant ! The Susan is retiu'n'd.
Gos. Well?
Sail. Well, and rich, su'. And now put in.
Gos. Heaven, thou hast lieard my prayers !
Sail. The brave Rebecca too, bound froai the Straits, With the next tide is ready to put after.
Gos. What news o' the fly -boat ?
^fraught] So the 4to ; and so Seward. — Both the folios "frought." — The Editors of 1778 and Weber « freight."
74 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Sail. If this wind hold till midnight, She will be here, and wealthy ; escap'd'' fairly.
Gos. How, prithee, sailor ?
Sail. Thus, sir : she had fight. Seven hours together, with six Turkish galleys. And she fought bravely, but at length was boarded, And overlaid with strength ; when presently Comes boring up the wind Captain Vannoke, That valiant gentleman you redeem'd from prison : He knew the boat, set in, and fouglit it bravely ; Beat all the galleys off, sunk three, redeem'd her. And, as a service to you, sent her home, sir.
Gos. An honest noble captain, and a thankful ! There 's for thy news : go, drink the merchant's health, sailor.
[Gives money.
Sail. I thank your bounty, and I '11 do it to a doit, sir.
[Exit.
First Mer. What miracles are pour'd upon this fellow !
Gos. This year, I hope, my friends, I shall scape prison, For all your cares to catch me.
Sec. Mer. You may please, sir. To think of yom- poor servants in displeasure, Wliose all they have, goods, moneys, are at your service.
Gos. I thank you; When I have need of you, I shall forget you. You are paid, I hope ?
Merchants. We joy in your good fortunes. [Exeunt.
Enter Vandunk. Vand. Come, sir, come, take your ease; you nmst go home with me; Yonder is one Aveeps and howls. Gos. Alas, how does she ? Vand. She will be better soon, I hope. Gos. Why soon, sir?
p escap'd} Old eds. "scap't" and " 'scap'd."— The modem editors silently print, foi- the metre, « she 'scap'd" : but, though our poets generally write "scape" and "scap'd", they sometimes hav6 " fsayie " (as at p, 93 1. 21) and ''escap'd " (as at p. 10 1. 7).
SCENE III.] BEGGARS' BUSH. Tf)
Vand. Why, when you have her in your arms : this night, my boy, She is thy wife.
Gos. AVith all my heart I take her.
Vand. We have prepar'd ; all thy friends will be there, And all my rooms shall smoke to see the revel. Thou hast been ^-rong'd, and no more shall ray service Wait on the knave her uncle : I have heard all. All his baits for my boy ; but thou shalt have her. Hast thou despatched thy business ?
Gos. Most.
Vand. By the mass, boy, Thou tumblest now in Avealth, and I joy in it ; Thou ai't the best boy that Bruges ever noui-ish'd. Thou hast been sad : I '11 cheer thee up with sack. And, when thou art lusty, I '11 fling thee to thy mistress : She'll hug thee, sin-ah.
Gos. I long to see it. — I had forgot you : there 's for you, my friends ;
[To HiGGEN and Prig, giving them money. You had but heavy burdens. Commend my love To [Clause] ; my best love, all the love I have'', To honest Clause ; shortly I will thank him better.
[Exit with Vaxdunk.
Hig. By the mass, a royal merchant ! gold by the handful ! Here will be sport soon, Prig.
Prig. It partly seems so ; And here will I be in a trice.
Hig. And I, boy. Away apace ! we are look'd for.
q Commend my love
To [Clause] ; my best love, all the love I have, &c.] Seward printed ; ' Commend my love, Commend viy best love, all the love I have," &c. The Editors of 1778 gave ;
' Commend my love To nn- best fricud, my best love, all the love J have,' &f.
Weber thus ;
" Commend my love. My best love, all the love I have,'' &c.
76 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Priff. Oh^ these hak'd meats ! Methinks I smell them hither.
Hiff. Thy mouth waters. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — The woods near Bruges. Enter Hubert disguised as be/ore, and Hemskirk.
Hub. I must not.
Hem. Why ? 'tis in thy power to do it, And in mine to reward thee to thy wishes.
Hub. I dare not, nor I will not.
Hem. Gentle huntsman, Though thou hast kept me hard, though in thy duty. Which is requir'd to do it, thou'st us'd me stubbornly, I can forgive thee freely.
Hub. You the earl's servant ?
Hem. I swear, I am near as his own thoughts to him ; Able to do thee
Hub. Come, come, leave your prating.
Hem. If thou dar'st but try
Hub. I thank you heartily ; you will be The first man that will hang me ; a sweet recompense ! I could do ['t] (but I do not say I will) To any honest fellow that would think on 't. And be a benefactor.
Hem. If it be not recompensed, and to thy own desires ; If, within these ten days, I do not make thee
Hub. What ? a false knave ?
Hem. Prithee, prithee, conceive me rightly ; any thing Of profit or of place that may advance thee
Hub. Why, what a goosecap wouldst thou make me ! do not I know That men in misery will promise any thing, More than their lives can reach at ?
Hem. Believe me, huntsman. There shall not one short'" syllable that comes from me pass Without its fidl performance.
' short] Perhaps this word was foisted in by the transcriber or printer. Seward took his usual hberties with the passage.
SCENE IV.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 77
Hub. Say you so, sii"? Have }'ou e'er a good place for ni}- quality*?
Hem. A thousand ; chases, forests, parks ; I '11 make thee Chief ranger over all the games. Huh. When? Hem. Presently. Huh. This may provoke me: and yet, to prove a knave
too
Hem. 'Tis to prove honest ; 'tis to do good ser^ace. Service for him thou art sworn to, for thy prince : Then, for thyself that good. What fool would live here. Poor, and in misery, subject to all dangers Law and lewd^ people can inflict, when bravely. And to himself, he may be law and credit ? Huh. Shall I believe thee ? Hem. As that thou hold'st most holy. Huh. You may play tricks. Hem. Then let me never live more. Hub. Then you shall see, sir, I ^^-ill do a service That shall deserve indeed.
Hem. 'Tis well said, huntsman. And thou shalt be well thought of.
Huh. I will do it : 'Tis not your setting " free, for that 's mere nothing. But such a service, if the earl be noble. He shall for ever love me. Hem. What is 't, Imntsman ? Huh. Do you know any of these people live here ? Hem. No.
Huh. You are a fool, then : here be those, to have 'em, I know the earl so well, woidd make him caper. Hem. Any of the old lords that rebell'd ? Huh. Peace ! all : I know 'em ever}'^ one, and can betray 'em. Hem. But wilt thou do this service ? Hub. If you 'U keep Your faith and fi-ee word to me.
8 my quality'] i. e. (as before, p. 63) my occupation, a person of my occupation (a huntsman). ' leifd'] Equivalent here to — rude, barbarous.
" sdtiiKj] So the second foUo.— The first foho and the 4to "letting" ; and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
78 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Hem. Wilt thou swear me ?
Hub. No, no, I will believe you. More than that too. Here 's the right heir.
Hem. Oh, honest, honest huntsman !
Hub. Now, how to get these gallants, there ^s the matter. You mU be constant? ^tis no work for me else.
Hem. Will the sun shine again ?
Hub. The way to get 'em !
Hem. Propound it, and it shall be done.
Hub. No sHght "' (For they are devihsh crafty, it concerns 'em), Nor reconcilement "' (for they dare not trust neither), Must do this trick.
Hem. By force ?
Hub. Ay, that must do it ; And with the person of the earl himself : Authority, and mighty, must come on 'em, Or else in vain : and thus I would have you do it. To-morrow night be here ; a hundred men will bear 'em. So he be there, for he 's both wise and valiant. And with his terror will strike dead their forces : The hour be twelve o'clock : now, for a guide To draw ye without danger on these persons. The woods being thick and hard to hit, myself, With some few with me, made unto our pui'pose. Beyond the wood, upon the plain, will wait ye By the great oak.
Hem. I know it. Keep thy faith, huntsman. And such a shower of wealth
Hub. I warrant you : Miss nothing that I tell you.
Hem. No.
Hub. Farewell. f
You have your liberty ; now use it wisely. And keep your hour. Go closer " about the wood there, For fear they spy you. J
Hem. Well. |^
it. " slight] i. e. artifice.
^ reconcilement'] "i.e. pretended reconcWemeni." Ed. 1778. == closer] Silently altered to « close" by the Editors of 1778 ; and so Weber.
SCENE v.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 71>
Hub. And bring no noise with you.
Hem. All shall be clone to tlic pvu-posc. Farewell, hunts- man. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE \.— Another part of the woods.
Enter Clause, Higgen, Prig, Ginks, Snap, and Ferret.
Clause. Now, what 's the news in to\^^l ?
Ginks. No news, but joy, sir ; Eveiy man wooing of the noble merchant, Who has > liis hearty commendations to you.
Per. Yes, this is news ; this night he 's to be married.
Ginks. By the mass, that 's ti*ue ; he man-ies Vandunk's daughter. The dainty black-ey'd dell ^
Hig. I would my clapper ^ Hung in his baldrick ^^ ! what ^ a peal could I ring !
y has'] Altered to " sends " by Seward, who thought that, with the old reading the sentence was imperfect !
^ dell] See note, p. 25. The coiTection of Theobald and S^^npson, approved by Mason, who observes tliat " Gmks [though a nobleman in disgvuse] con- forms to the language of liis assumed profession." — Old eds. "bell". — The Editors of 1778 and Weber print "belle ".
* dapper] — Used here mth a quibble — was the cover of the clap-dish or clack- dish, which was canned by sturdy beggars for the purpose of receiving alms, and which they opened and shut with a loud clap to excite the pity of the charitable or the fear of the hard-hearted. Weber, in a note on this passage, ^\Tongly ex- plains the clapper to be the clap-dish itself ; but he afterwards rightly observes that the clap-dish was originally appropriated to lepers ( — see Gilford's note on Mas- singer's Worls,n. 257, ed. 1813 — ), and adds, "upon the continent, I have fre- quently seen old women come out of alms-houses on the road (which probably were once allotted to lepers), with such dishes, striking the cover down, and begging for their hospitals ". Nares {Gloss, in v.) says, that a sort of clap-dish is still used on particular days by a society of widows, who subsist m alms-houses, without the gate of York called MicMe-yatc Bar. — (In an earlier note on this play, p. 21, 1 have expressed myself with seeming iuaccui'acy in stating that the clap- dish " was perhaps originally canned by the Clapper-dudyemi" : I meant to say, that, after it had been borroiced by the beffffarsfrmn the lepers, it was perhaps first carried by the Clapper-dudgeon.)
■» baldrick] i. e. belt.
■■ what] So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio " a whal.^' — Tlie modern editors " ah, vhut."
80 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Clause. Married !
Ginks. 'Tis very true, sir. Oh, the pies, The piping-hot mince-pies !
Prig. Oh, the plum-pottage !
Hig. For one leg of a goose now would I venture a limb, boys : I love a fat goose, as I love allegiance ; And, [pox '^] upon the boors, too well they know it. And therefore starve their poultry.
Clause. To be married To Vandunk^s daughter ! [Aside.
Hig. Oh, this precious merchant ! What sport he will have ! But, hark you, brother Prig ; Shall we do nothing in the foresaid ^ wedding ? There ^s money to be got, and meat, I take it : What think you of a morris ?
Prig. No, by no means ; That goes no further than the street, there leaves us : Now, we must think of something that must ^ draw us Into the bowels of it, into the buttery. Into the kitchen, into the cellar ; something That that old drunken burgomaster loves : What think you of a wassail ^ ?
Hig. I think worthily.
Prig. And very fit it should be : thou, and Fen'et, And Ginks, to sing the song ; I for the structure. Which is the bowl.
Hig. Which must be upsey-English^, Strong lusty London beer. Let 's think more of it.
Clause. He must not marry. [Aside.
Enter Hubert, disguised as before. Hub. By youi' leave, in private. One word, sir, with you. Gerrard ! do not start me^ : 'ij
"^ [pox'\ A break here in the old eds. ** foresaid'] " Modem editors read ' aforesaid '." Weber. * must] Silently altered to " may " by Seward ; and so his successors. ' a wassail] i. e. a merry-making with the wassaiUotvl (see note, vol. ii. 100) and singing (see the followng speeches). s ^lpsey-Engl^sh] See note, p. 44. •■ do not start me] " Mr. Seward, concurring with Mr. Theobald in opinion,
I
SCENE v.] BEGGARS' BUSH. Ml
I know you, and he knows jou, that best loves you : Hubert speaks to you, and you must be Gerrard ; The time incites you to it.
Clause. Make no show, then. I am gjlad to see you, sir ; and I am Gerrard. How stand affaii's?
Hub. Fan*, if you dare now folloAV. Hemskirk I have let go, and these my causes I '11 tell you privately, and how I have wTought him : And then, to prove me honest to my friends. Look upon these directions; you have seen his. [Gives apaper.
Hig. Then will I speak a speech, and a brave speech. In praise of merchants. Where's the ape?
Prig. [Pox'] take him ! A gouty bear-ward' stole him the other day.
Hig. May his bears worry him ! That ape had paid it : What dainty tricks, — ([pox] o' that whoreson'' bear-ward !) — In his French doublet, with his blister'd bullions ', In a long stock tied up ! Oh, how daintily Would I have made him wait, and change '" a trencher. Carry a cup of wine ! Ten thousand stinks Wait on thy mangy hide ^, thou lousy bear-wai'd !
Clause. [To Hubert] 'Tis passing well ; I both believe and joy in 't. And will be ready. Keep you here the mean while, And keep this in. — I must a while forsake ye : Upon mine anger, no man stir this two hours.
reads, ' do not start, man'. The old lection seems to us perfect sense ; meaning, ' do not be alarmed at me ' ; as we familiarly say, ' do not fly mc ', for ' do not fly FROM me.' Goswin says above, speaking of his distressful situation, ' Oh, how it starts me !' " Ed. 1778.
' [Pox'\ Here, and in the next line but two, the old eds. have a break.
1 bear-ward] i. e. bear-keeper.
'' ivJiOi'eson] So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio "bursen'"; and so Seward.
' hlister\l hullions'] See note, vol. vii. 291. So the second folio. — The first folio has "baster'd (the 4to "bastar'd") huUions", — in consequence of wliich Weber gave " bastard bullions ".
" cJianr/e} So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio " shift " ; and so Seward.
" hide] So the second folio. — The fii-st folio and the 4to "soule ".
VOL. IX, G
82 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Hig. Not to the wedding, sir ?
Clause. Not any whither,
Hig. The wedding must be seen, sir : we want meat too ; We be monstrous " out of meat.
Prig, Shall it be spoken, Fat capons shak'd their tails at 's in defiance ? And turkey-tombs °, such honourable monuments ? Shall pigs, sir, that the parson^s self would envy, And dainty ducks
Clause. Not a word more ! obey me. [Exit.
Hig. Why, then, come, doleful death p ! This is flat tyranny ; And, by this hand
Hub. What?
Hig. I ^11 go sleep upon 't. [Exit.
Prig. Nay, an there be a wedding, and we wanting. Farewell, our happy days ! — We do obey, sir. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. — Bruges. — Before the house of Vandunk.
Enter two young Merchants.
First Mer. Well met, sir : you are for this lusty wedding ?
Sec. Mer. I am so ; so are you, I take it.
First Mer. Yes ; And it much glads me, that to do him service. Who is the honour of our trade and lustre. We meet thus happily.
Sec. Mer. He 's a noble fellow. And well becomes a bride of such a beauty.
First Mer. She is passing fair indeed. Long may their loves Continue like their youths, in spring of sweetness ! All the young merchants will be here, no doubt on 't ; For he that comes not to attend this wedding,
» We he monstrous] So the first folio and the 4to. — The second folio " We are horrible " ; and so the modern editors.
° turkey-tombs'] " i. e. turkey-pies. " Seward.
i" Why, then, come, doleful death /] A quotation, it would seem, from some play or ballad.
1
SCENE VI.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 83
The curse of a most blind one fall upon him, A loud wife, and a lazy ! — Here's Vanlock.
Enter Vanlock and Frances.
Vanl. Well overtaken, gentlemen : save ye !
First Mer. The same to you, sir. — Save you, fiiir Mistress Frances ! I would this happy night might make you blush too.
Vanl. She di'cams apace.
hran. That's but a di'owsy fortune.
Sec. Mer. Nay, take us with ye too ; we come to that end : I am sure ye are for the wedding.
Vanl. Hand and heart, man. And what these feet '^ can do ; I could ha^^e tript it Before this whoreson gout.
Enter Clause. Clause. Bless ye, masters !
Vanl. Clause ! how wow, Clause? thou art come to see tliy master (And a good master he is to all poor people) In all his joy ; 'tis honestly done of thee.
Clause. Long may he live, sir ! but my business now is. If you would please to do it, and to him too —
Enter Goswin.
Vanl. He 's here himself.
Gos. Stand at the door, my friends ! I pray, walk in. Welcome, fair Mistress Frances ! See what the house affords : there 's a young lady Will bid you welcome.
Vanl. We joy your happiness.
^ these feet] Mason's correction, and obviously necessary : "Vanlock means to say, that he will dance as well as his feet will permit ; but, before that whoreson gout, he could have done it nimbly." — Old eds. " their /ec< " ; and so the modem editors, — Weber pointing the passage thus,
" And what their feet can do, I could have ", Sic. and explaining " their /ef< " — " the feet of others " !
G 2
84 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Gos. I hope it will be so.
[Exeunt all except Gos win and Clause. Clause, nobly -welcome ! My honest, my best friend, I have been careful To see thy moneys
Clause. Sir, that brought not me. Do you know tliis ring again ?
Gos. Thou hadst it of me.
Clause. And do you well remember yet the boon you gave me, Upon return of this ?
Gos. Yes, and I grant it, Be it what it will : ask what thou canst, I '11 do it, Within my power.
Clause. You are not married yet ?
Gos. No.
Clause. Faith, I shall ask you that that will disturb you ; But I must put you to your promise.
Gos. Do ; And, if I faint and flinch in 't
Clause. Well said, master ! And yet it grieves me too : and yet it must be.
Gos. Prithee, distrust me not.
Clause. You must not marry : That 's part of the power you gave me ; which to make up, You must presently depart, and follow me.
Gos. Not marry, Clause !
Clause. Not, if you keep yoiu- promise. And give me power to ask.
Gos. Prithee, think better : I will obey, by Heaven !
Clause. I have thought the best, sir.
Gos. Give me thy reason : dost thou fear her honesty ?
Clause. Chaste as the ice, for any thing I know, sir.
Gos. Wliy shouldst thou light on that, then? to what purpose ?
Clause. I must not now discover.
Gos. Must not marry !
SCENE VI.] BEGGARS' BUSH. «o
Shall 1 break now, when my pour heart is pawii'd ? When all the preparation
Clause. Now, or never.
Gos. Come, 'tis not that thou wouklst ; thou dost but fright me.
Clause. Upon my soul, it is, sii- ; and I bind you.
Gos. Clause, canst thou be so cruel V
Clause. You may break, sir ; But never more in my thoughts appear honest.
Gos. Didst ever see her ?
Clause. No.
Gos. She is such a tiling, — Oh, Clause, she is such a wonder ! such a mii-ror. For beauty and fail- ^ii-tue, Europe has not ! Why hast thou made me happy to undo me ? But look upon her ; then, if thy heart relent not, I '11 quit her presently. — Who waits there ?
Serv. [ivithin\ Sir ?
Gos. Bid my fail- love come hither, and the company. — Prithee, be good unto me : take a man's heart. And look upon her truly ; take a friend's heart. And feel what misery must foUow this.
Clause. Take you a noble heart, and keep yom- promise : I forsook aU I had, to make you happy. Can that thing, caU'd a woman, stop your goodness ?
Enter Gertrude and Vandunk, with the Merchants ' .
Gos. Look, there she is : deal \v\i\x me as thou wilt now : Didst ever see a faii-er ?
Clause. She is most goodly.
Gos. Pray you, stand stiU.
Gert. What ails my love ?
Gos. Didst thou ever, By the fair light of Heaven, behold a sweeter ? Oh, that thou knew'st but love, or ever felt him ! Look well, look narrowly upon her beauties.
First Mer. Sure, h'as some strange design in hand, he starts so.
' uiili the Merchants'] Pcrliaiib \'aulock ami Fiaiiccsj ought to re-enter also.
86 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act iv.
Sec. Mer. This beggar has a strong power over his pleasure.
Gos. View all her body.
Clause. ^Tis exact and excellent.
Gos. Is she a thing, then, to be lost thus hghtly ? Her mind is ten times sweeter, ten times nobler ; And but to hear her speak, a paradise ; And such a love she bears to me, a chaste love, A virtuous, fair, and fruitful love ! 'tis now too I am ready to enjoy it ; the priest ready, Clause, To say the holy words shall make us happy : This is a cruelty beyond man's study : All these are ready, all our joys are ready. And all the expectation of our friends : 'Twill be her death to do it.
Clause. Let her die, then.
Gos. Thou canst not ; 'tis impossible.
Clause. It must be.
Gos. 'Twill kill me too ; 'twill murder me. By Heaven, Clause, I '11 give thee half I have ! come, thou shalt save me.
Clause. Then you must go with me, — I can stay no longer, — If you be true and noble.
Gos. Hard heart, I 'U follow ! [Exit Clausk.
Pray ye, all go in again, and, pray, be merry : I have a weighty business — Give my cloak there ! —
Enter Servant, icith a cloak. Concerns my life and state — make no inquiry — This present hour befaln me : with the soonest I shall be here again. Nay, pray, go in, sir. And take them with you. — 'Tis but a night lost, gentlemen.
Vand. Come, come in ; we will not lose our meat yet. Nor our good mirth ; he cannot stay long from her, I am sure of that.
Gos. I will not stay, beheve, sir.
[Exit Vandunk ivith Merchants and Servant. Gertrude, a \i'ord with }'ou.
Gert. Wh}' is this stop, sir ?
SCENE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 87
Gos. I have uo more time left me, but to kiss thee. And tell thee this, — I am ever thine : farewell, wench, [Eant,
Gert. And is that all your ceremony ? is this a wedding? Are all my hopes and prayers txu'n'd to nothing ? Well, I will say no more, nor sigh, nor sorrow — Oh me ' ! — till to thy face I prove thee false. [Ewit.
ACT V. SCENE I. — A plain adjoining to the woods near Bruges.
Enter Gertrude masked.^ and a Boor with a torch.
Gert. Lead, if thou think'st we are right. Why dost thou make These often stands ? thou said^st thou knew'st the way.
Boor. Fear nothing ; I do know it. — Would 'twere home- ward! [Aside.
Gert. Wrought from me by a beggar ! at the time That most should tie him ! ^Tis some other love, That hath a more command on his aflFections ; And he that fetch'd him a disguised agent. Not what he personated, for his fashion Was more familiar with him, and more powerfid. Than one that ask'd an alms : I must find out One, if not both. Kind darkness, be my slu'oud, And cover love's too-curious search in me ! For yet, suspicion, I would not name thee. [Aside.
Boor. Mistress, it grows somewhat pretty and dark.
Gert. MTiat then?
Boor. Nay, nothing. Do not think I am afraid. Although perhaps you ai'e.
Gert. I am not. Forward!
Boor. Sure, but you are. Give me your hand ; fear nothing. There's one leg in the wood : do not pidl backAvard".
' Oh 7He] In the second folio, this exclamation is placed iit the end of the line (rightly, perhaps) ; and so Seward and the editors of 1778, who silent'.y print " Ah me/"
' ■pull baclivard] So the first folio and the 4 to. — The second folio "^)«?/ me hachvard" ; and so Seward.
88 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
What a sweat one on's are in, you or I !
Pray God it do not prove the plague ! yet, sure,
It has infected me ; for I sweat too ;
It runs out at my knees : feel, feel, I pray you.
Gert. What ails the fellow ?
Boor. Harkj hark, I beseech you ! Do you hear nothing ?
Gert. No.
Boor. List ! a wild hog ; He grunts : now 'tis a bear ; this wood is full of 'em : And now a wolf, mistress ; a wolf, a wolf ; It is the howling of a wolf.
Gert. The braying Of an ass, is it not ?
Boor. Oh, now one has me ! Oh, my left ham ! Farewell.
Gei't. Look to your shanks ; Your breech is safe enough; the wolf's a fern-brake.
Boor. But see, see, see ! there is a serpent in it ; It has eyes as broad as platters ; it spits fire ; Now it creeps towards us : help me to say my prayers : It hath swallow'd me almost ; my breath is stopt ; I cannot speak : do I speak, mistress ? tell me.
Gert. Why, thou strange ** timorous sot, canst thou perceive Any thing i' the bush but a poor glow-worm?
Boor. It may be 'tis but a glow-worm now ; but 'twill Grow to a fire-drake * presently.
Gert. Come thou from it. I have a precious guide of you, and a courteous. That gives me leave to lead myself the way thus.
[Within. Holla"!]
Boor. It thunders : you hear that now ?
Gert. I hear one hoUa.
Boor. 'Tis thmider, tlmnder : see, a flash of lightning ! Are you not blasted, mistress ? puU your mask off : It has play'd the barber with me here ; I have lost
» strange'^ So the second folio.— Omitted in the first foho and the 4to. ' fire-drake'] i. e. fiei-y dragon, fiery serpent.
" [Within, ffolla] Not in the old eds., which have, however, later in this scene, a stage-du'ection, " Holla again ".
i
SCENE I.J BEGGARS' BUSH. 89
My beard, my beard : pray God you be not shaven ! 'TS\ill spoil your mai'riage, mistress.
Gert. AVhat strange wonders Fear fancies in a coward !
Boor. Now the earth opens.
Gert. Prithee, hold thy peace.
Boor. Will you on, then ?
Gert. Both love and jealousj^ have made me bold : Where my fate leads me I must go.
Boor. God be with you, then ! [Exit Geiitiiuuk.
EnterW ohvon-v and Hemskiuk with Soldiers.
Hem. It was the fellow, sm-e, he that should gmde me. The huntsman, that did holla us.
Wol. Best make a stand. And hsten to his next. — Ha !
Hem. Who goes there ?
Boor. Mistress, I am taken.
Hem. Mistress ! — Look forth, soldiers. [Exeunt Soldiers.
Wol. Wliat are you, sirrah ?
Boor. Truly, aU is left Of a poor boor by day -light ; by night, nobody. You might have spar'd your drum, and guns, and pikes too. For I am none that will stand out, sir, I : You may take me in " with a walking-stick. Even when you please, and hold me with a pack-thread.
Hem. What woman was 't you call'd to ?
Boor. Woman ! none, sir.
Wol. None ! did you not name mistress ?
Boor. Yes, but she^s No Avoman yet : she should have been this night, But that a beggar stole away her bridegroom, Whom we were going to make hue and cry after. I tell you true, sir ; she should ha^ been married to-day. And was the bride and all ; but in came Clause, The old lame beggar, and whipt '' up Master Goswin Under his arm, away with him; as a kite. Or an old fox, would sw oop away a gosling.
" take mc 2h] i. c. conquci* nic.
^' whipt] So the 'Ito.— Both tho foHns " whii's" ; and so the modern cditoi>.
90 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
Re-enter Soldiers with Gertrude,
Hem. 'Tis she, 'tis she, 'tis she ! — Niece !
Gert. Ha!
Hem. She, sir ! This was a noble entrance to your fortune, That, being on the point thus to be married. Upon her venture here, you should surprise her.
Wol. I begin, Hemskirk, to believe my fate Works to my ends.
Hem. Yes, sir ; and this adds trust Unto the fellow our guide, who assur'd me Florez LiVd in some merchant's shape, as Gerrard did I' the old beggar's, and that he would use Him for the train ^ to call the other forth ; All which we find is done.
[Within. Holla !]
Hem. That's he again.
Wol. Good we sent ^ out to meet him.
Hem. Here 's the oak.
Gert. Oh, I am miserably lost, thus fain Into my uncle's hands from all my hopes ! No matter now ?', whe'r ^ thou be false or no, Goswin ; whether thou love another better,
w train'] Artifice, stratagem (of enticement). * sent] Mason would read " set". y Oh, I am miserably lost, thus fain Into my uncle's hands from all my hopes! No matter now, &c.] The first folio and the 4to, thus ;
"01 am miserably lost, thus falne
Into my vncles hands from all my hopes,
Can I not thinke away my selfe and dye ?
O T am miserably lost ; thus fallen
Into my Uncles hands, from all my hopes :
No matter noiv," &c. (the thu'd of the lines just cited bemg also repeated as the concluding one of the speech). The second foho has only, —
" I am miserably lost, thus fain
Into my Uncles hands from all my hopes.
Can I not think away my self and dye ? " (the rest of the speech perhaps, as Weber suggests, having been rejected by the author on a revisal of the text) ; and so Seward ; so too the Editors of 1778 (printing « Oh, / «m", &c.). J tvhe V] " i. e. whether." Weber.
SCENE 1.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 91
Or me alone ; or wlic'r tliou keep thy voav
And word, or that thou come or stay ; for I
To thee from hencefortli must be ever abseut,
And thou to me. No more shall we come near.
To tell ourselves how bright each other [^s] eyes wei-e,
How soft our language, and how sweet our kisses,
Whilst we made one om* food, th' other oui* feast ;
Not mix our souls by sight, or by a letter.
Hereafter ; but as small relation have,
As two new gone to inhabiting a grave.
Can I not think away myself and die -^ ?
Enter Hubert disguised as before, Higgen, Prig, Ferret, Snap, and Ginks, disguised as Boors. Hub. I Like your habits well; they are safe ; stand close. Hig. But what 's the action we are for now, ha ? Robbing a ripper ^ of his fish ?
Prig. Or taking A poulterer prisoner, A^-ithout ransom, bullies ? Hig. Or cutting off a convoy of butter ? Fer. Or sui'prising a boor's ken, for grunting-cheats ^ ?
* and die] After these words the Editors of ] 778 iuserted "Exeunt " ; and so Weber. But Hemskii-k has previously said (p. 90), " Here's the oak ", meau- iug the oak beside which Hubert had promised to meet him —
(" mj-self, With some few with mc, made imto our purpose, Beyond the wood, upon the plaui, will wait yc By the great oak", p. 78) ; and he now remauis at the back of the stage wth his party, waituig the anival of Hubert.
'' rt ripper] " Ripper, properly ripier, from the Latin ripa, is a word still used in the northern counties, and signifies a kuid of travelliug fishmonger, who carries fish from the coast, to sell in the inland parts. "£"</. 1778, Some ctjTiio- logists derive the word from ripp, the basket m which the fish is can-icd.
^ hen, for grunting-cheats, &.c.] Theobald's correction. — Old eds. " ken, for granting cheates &c." — " Ken, a house [Dekker's English Villanies, sig. N 2. ed. 1632]. — Gi-unting-chcats, pigs [Id. ibid]. — Cackling-cheats, cocks or capons [Id. ibid]. — Margery-praters, hens [Id. sig. N 4], — Rogers and Tibs of the buttery axv both words for geese, according to Dckkcr [Id. ibid, and Harniaji's Caveat for Common Cursetors, cd. 1573], but The English Rogue [a work of no authority] explains the former by cloak-bag." Weber.
92 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
Prig. Or cackling-cheats ?
Hiy. Or Margery-praters, Rogers, And Tibs o' the buttery ?
Pr'iy. Oh, I could drive a regiment Of geese afore me, such a night as this. Ten leagues, with my hat and staff, and not a hiss Heard, nor a wing of my troops disordered !
Hig. TeUus, If it be milling of a lag of duds«^. The fetching off a buck^ of clothes, or so ? We are horribly out of linen.
Hub. No such matter.
Hig. Let me alone for any farmer's dog, If you have a mind to the cheese-loft ; 'tis but thus — And he is a silenc'd mastiff, dm-ing pleasure.
Hub. Would it would please you to be silent !
Hig. Mum».
Wol. Who 's there ?
Hub. A friend ; the huntsman.
Hem. Oh, 'tis he.
Hub. I have kept touch '\ sir. Which is the earl, of these ? Will he' know a man now ?
Hem. This, my lord, 's the friend Hath undertook the service.
Hub. If 't be worth His lordship's thanks, anon, when it is done. Lording, I '11 look for 't. A rude woodman, I Know how to pitch my toils, drive in my game ; And I have done 't ; both Florez and his father Old Gerrard, with Lord Arnold of Benthuisen,
e milling of a lag of duds'\ " i. e. stealing a buck of clothes, Dekker, — id. sig. N. 3. (as it is explamed in the next line)." Webeb (the note altered).
« buck] Old eds. "back."
« Muni] After this word the Editors of 1778 inserted '■^ Enter Wolfvrt, HemsJcirk, Gertrude, Boor, &c." ; and so Weber {"Re-enter Wolfort" &c.) : but see first note m the preceding page.
'• kept touch] " To keep touch, Facere quod di.ieris." Coles's Diet.
' he] So the second foho. — The first folio and the 4to "ye ".
SCENE I.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 93
CostinJ, and Jacqueline, young Florez' sister : I have 'em all.
Wol. Thou spcak'st too much, too happy, To carry faith ^dth it.
Hub. I can bring you Where you shall see, and find 'cm.
TFo/.'We will double Whatever Hemskirk then hath promised thee.
Hub. And I '11 deserve it treble. What horse ha' you ?
Wol. A hundi-ed.
Hub. That is well. Ready to take Upon surprise of 'em ?
Hem. Yes.
Hub. Divide, then. Your force into five squadi'ons ; for there are So many out-lets, ways thorough the wood, That issue from the place where they are lodg'd ; Five several ways ; of all which passages We must possess ourselves, to round 'em in ; For by one starting-hole they '11 all escape else. I, and four boors here to vsxe.^, will be guides : The squadi'on where you are myself will lead ; And, that they may be more secm-e, I '11 use My wonted whoops and hollas, as I were A hunting for 'em ; which will make them rest Careless of any noise, and be a direction To the other guides how we approach 'em still.
Wol. 'Tis order'd well, and relisheth the soldier. — Make the division, Hemskirk. — You are my charge. Fair one ; I '11 look to you.
Boor. Shall nobody need To look to me. I '11 look unto myself.
[Aside, and then runs off.
Hub. 'Tis but this, remember.
Hig. Say, 'tis done, boy. [Exeunt.
i Costin] " Old copies read ' Cozen.' He is, however, aftcrwai-ds called liy tlie name adopted in the text." Weber.
^ to vie] " i. e. in addition to me." Weber. Tlie 4to has " to ye", — wrongly.
94 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
SCENE II. — The interior of the woods near Bruges. Enter Clause and Goswin'.
Clause. By this time^ sir, I hope you want no reasons Why I broke off your marriage ; for, though I Should as a subject study you my prince In things indifferent, it will not therefore Discredit you to acknowledge me your father. By hearkening to my necessary counsels.
Gos. Acknowledge you my father ! sir, I do ; [Kneels.
And may impiety, conspiring with My other sins, sink me, and suddenty. When I forget to pay you a son's duty In my obedience, and that help'd forth'" With all the cheerfulness
Clause. I pray you, rise ; [Flore z rises.
And may those powers that see and love this in you Reward you for it ! Taught by your example. Having received the rights due to a father, I tender you th' allegiance of a subject ; Which, as my prince, accept of. [Kneels.
Gos. Kneel to me ! [Raises him.
May mountains first faU down beneath their valleys, And fire no more mount upwards, when I suffer An act in nature so prepostero^s ! I must overcome in this ; in all things else The victory be yours. Could you here read me. You should perceive how all my faculties Triumph in my blest fate, to be found yours : I am your son, yoiu* son, sir ! and am prouder
' Clause and Goswini From this place to the end of the play, Weber, in the stage-directions and prefixes, gave the real names of these jiersonages, — Oerrard and Florez ; yet he inconsistently retained the false names, Gerti'ude and Ginks. — So too the Editors of 1778, — who, besides, designated Gerrard by his real name, after p. 80, where Hubert says, "Gerrard! do not start me," &c. — Seward, in these particulars, followed the old eds. throughout.
" and that heJp\l jorth'\ Altered by Seward to " and that too held forth" ! ! In this line, as the Editors of 1778 saw, " ohedience" is a quadrisyllable.
SCENE u.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 95
To be so", to the father to such goodness, (Which Heaven be pleased I may inherit from you !) Than I shall ever of those specious titles That plead for my succession in the earldom (Did I possess it now) left by my mother.
Clause. I do believe it : but
Gos. Oh, my lov'd father. Before I knew you were so, by instinct Natm'C had taught me to look on your wants, Not as a sti'anger's ! and, I know not how. What you callM charity, I thought the payment Of some religious debt Natiu'e stood bound for: And, last of all, when your magnificent bounty, In my low ebb of fortune, had brought in A flood of blessings, though my threatening wants. And fear of their effects, still kept me stupid, I soon found out it was no common pity That led you to it.
Clause. Think of this hereafter, When we with joy may call it to remembrance ; There will be a time, more opportune than now, To end youi' story, with all circumstances. I add this only : when we fled from Wolfort, I sent you into England, and there plac'd you With a brave Flanders merchant, call'd rich Goswin, A man supplied by me unto that pm-pose, As bound by oath never to discover you ; Who, dying, left his name and wealth unto you. As his reputed son, and yet received so. But now, as Florez, and a prince, remember. The country's and the subject's general good Must challenge the first part in your affection ; The fair maid, whom you chose to be your wife. Being so far beneath you, that yom* love Must grant she 's not yom- equal.
Gos. In descent. Or borrowed glories from dead ancestors :
" To he so, &C.J Heath {MS. Notes) would read, unnecessarily, — " To be so to a, father of such goodness."
96 BEGGARS' BUSH. , [act v.
But for her beauty, chastity, and all virtues
Ever remember'd in the best of women,
A monarch might receive from her, not give,
Though she were his crown's purchase : in this only
Be an indulgent father ; in all else
Use 3^our " authority.
Enter Hubert dis</uised as before^ Hemskirk, Wolfort, Ger- trude, and Soldiers.
Hub. Sir, here be two of 'em, The father and the son ; the rest you shall have As fast as I can rouze them. [Ea^it.
Clause. Who 's this ? Wolfort ?
Wol. Ay, cripple ; your feign' d crutches will not help you. Nor patch'd disguise, that hath so long conceal'd you ; It 's now no halting : I must here find Gerrard, And in this merchant's habit one call'd Florez, Who would be an earl.
Clause. And is, wert thou a subject.
Gos. Is this that traitor Wolfort ?
JVol. Yes ; but you Are they that are betray'd. — Hemskirk !
Gert. My Goswin Tum'd prince ! Oh, I am poorer by this greatness. Than all my former jealousies or misfortunes !
Gos. Gertrude !
Wol. Stay, sir; you were to-day too near her : You must no more aim at those eas}^ accesses, 'Less " you can do 't in air, without a head ; AVliich shall be suddenly tried.
Gert. Oh, take my heart first ! And, since I cannot hope now to enjoy him. Let me but fall a part of his glad ransom.
Wol. You know not your own value that entreat
Clause. So proud a fiend as Wolfort !
n your] So the second folio. — The fii-st folio and the 4to " my ". (The pre- ceding speeches of Goswin seem to prove that the author did not write " thy ".) " i. e. unless." Weber.
scENK ir.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 97
PVo/. For SO lost A thing as Florez.
Gos. And tliat wonld be so, Kather than she shoukl stoop again to thee : There is no death, but 's sweeter than all life. When Wolfort is to give it. — Oh, my Gertrude, It is not that, nor princedom, that I go from ; It is from thee ; that loss includeth aU !
Wol. Ay, if my young prince kncAv his loss, he would say so ; Which, that he yet may chew on, I will tell him. This is no Gertrude, nor no Hemskirk's niece. Nor Vandimk^s daughter : this is Bertha, Bertha ! The heir of Brabant, she that caus'd the war. Whom I did steal, dimng my treaty there. In " your minority, to raise myself; I then foreseeing ^twould beget a quarrel ; That, a necessity of my employment ; The same employment make me master of strength ; That strength, the lord of Flanders ; so of Brabant, By marrpng her : which had not been to do, sir. She come of years, but that the expectation. First, of her father's death, retarded it ; And since, the standing-out of Bruges ; where Hemskirk had hid her, till she was near lost : But, sir, we have recover'd her : your merchant-ship May break ; for this was one of your best bottoms, I think.
Clause. Insolent devil !
Re-enter Hubert, with Minche, Ginks, and Costin. Wol. ^Mio are these, Hemskirk ? Hem. More, more, sii*. Gos. How they triumph in their treachery ! Hein. Lord Arnold of Benthuisen P, this Lord Costin, This Jacqueline, the sister unto Florez.
Wbl. All found ! Why, here 's brave game ; this was sport royal,
" In'] So the second folio. — The first folio and the 4to " For." P Benthuisen] Here the old eds. have " Bcuthusin" : but see p. 92, last line. VOL. IX. U
98 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
And puts me in thought of a new kind of death for 'em. Huntsman, your horn : first, wind me Florez^ fall ; Next, Gerrard's ; then, his daughter Jacqueline's, Those rascals, they shall die without their rites ^: Hang 'em, Hemskirk, on these trees, I '11 take The assay of these myself^. Hub. Not here, my lord: Let 'em be broken up upon a scaffold ; 'Twill shew the better when their arbor's made ^
q Tliose rascals, they shall die loithout their i-ites'] Weber was correct in his observation that " rascals " is used here with a quibble, the word meaning, in huntsmen's language, — deer that are lean and out of season : but he certainly was wrong in retainmg the spelling of the old eds., " rights."
■• ril take
The assay of these myself] See note, vol. i. 266,
« when their arbor's made] In a note on Jonson's Works (vi. 270), Gifford observes that " the making of the arbor means, in plain English, the cutting up of the game" ; but he gives no fui-ther explanation. The phrase is fully illustrated by the following curious extract from a piece of considerable rarity : — "How you shall vndoe, or hreake-vp a Hart. After the fall of the Hart or Stag, and that the himtsmen are come m together, and haue winded the death of the Hart, you shal lay him vpright vpon his hoi'ues, which is called suing of the Hart : then let the best man in the company, or some personage of account, take the assay before the assembly : which done, then first cut off the cods, then begin at the jawes, and slit him downe to the assay, and so directly do^vne to the cods : which being done, begin first to slit the left leg before, and next the left leg behinde, which you must not forget in any hand before you goe to the right side, which you must perfoi-me next in the same manner : the which being done, begin at the cheeke on the left side, from which directly take off the skinne downe to the breast, and so downe to the assay, and to the place of the end : then begin at the other side, and doe the same in like manner, but cut not the tayle of the beast (which we call the single) alway in any hand, but cutting off the skin, let it remayne to the handles : then spreadmg the skin abroad, let the bodie be. laid vpon the same, very open, and begin first to make the Arbor, which is the conduit which leadeth vnto the stomacke, guts and bag, and must be made fast and close by a roimd knot : then cut out the shoulders, which must be done with a very long broad-poynted knife, wherein you must obserae to keepe the outside of the inner skin whole, and lay it close to the side : then open the belly, and take out the sewet, which is most excellent and needfull for Surgions : then putting in your hand vnder the breast-bone, pul downe the Arbor, and turning out the panch, take away the rate, filling it with the bloud and sewet, hauing a needle and a thread ready to sow it vp with : then searching into the small guts, take out the maw, and next the liner, laying them vpon the skin : next after these take out the bladder : then going to the vmbles, first loosen the aduancers which do leaue to the necke, and taking the throat or wessand, loosen the fillets very circumspectly, which fals to the vmbles, and must be gathered
SCENE 11.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 99
Clause. Wretch, art thou not content thou liast betrayed us, But mock ['st] us too ?
Ginks. False Hubert, this is monstrous !
Wol. Hubert!
Hem. Who? this?
Clause. Yes, this is Hubert, Wolfort ; I hope he has help'd himself to a tree.
IFol. The first, The first of any, — and most glad I have you, sir : I let you go before, but for a train ". Is 't you have done this sernce ?
Hub. As youi' huntsman ;
But now as Hubert — save yom'selves — I will
The Wolf's afoot ! let slip ! kill, kill, kill, kill !
Enter, with a drum, Vandunk, Merchants, Higgen, Prig, Ferret, and Snap.
TVol. Betray'd!
Hub. No, but well catch'd ; and I the himtsman.
Vand. How do you, Wolfort ? rascal ! good knave Wolfort ! I speak it now without the rose ! — and Hemskirk, Rogue Hemskirk ! you that have no niece : this lady Was stoln by you, and ta'en by you, and now Resigned by me to the right owner here. — Take her, my prince !
Gos. Can this be possible ? — Welcome, my love, my sweet, my Avorthy love !
and stripped vpoii the wessand with the same, wth the naues and sewet, and the flesh along the midriff from both the sides, and so lil^e a huntsman make vp the vTnbles with all these together, only keepe the lights vpon the skin : this being done, sht the skin wherein the Hart is uifolded, and take away the haires which grow about the same : and in earning the Hart you shal find a bone therein, which hath the vertue to cure the malady called the passion of the heart : then cutting away the loose skirts, fil them with bloud to saue the melting of the grease : then cut away the necke from both the sides, and take the head away from the neck, taking out the tongue and the braine, laying them with the lights, the small guts, and the bloud, vpon the skinne, to reward the hounds, which is called the Querrie. The left shoulder of the Hart is his fee which dresseth him, and so is the skin and the right shoulder the Forresters fee." A Jewell for Oentrie, <Cr. (by T. S.), ed. 1614, sig. F 2 [G 2]. " traini See note, p. 90.
H 2
100 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
Vand. I ha' given you her twice : now keep her better : and thank Lord Hubert, that came to me in Gerrard's name, And got me out, with my brave boys, to march Like Caesar, when he bred his Commentaries ; So I, to breed ^ my chronicle, came forth Caesar Van dunk, et veni, vidi, vici. — Give me my bottle, and set down the drum. — You had your tricks, sir, had you ? we ha' tricks too : You stole the lady ?
Hig. And we led your squadrons Where they ha' scratch'd their legs a little with brambles, If not their faces.
Priff. Yes, and run their heads Against trees.
Hig. 'Tis Captain Prig, sir.
Prig. And Colonel Higgen.
Hig. We have fiU'd a pit with your people, some with legs, Some with arms broken, and a neck or two I think be loose.
Prig. The rest too, that escap'd. Are not yet out o' the briars.
Hig. And your horses, sir. Are well set up in Bruges aU by this time. You look as you were not well, sir, and would be Shortly let blood : do you want a scarf?
Vand. A halter !
Clause. 'Twas like yourself, honest and noble Hubert ! — Canst thou behold these mirrors all together Of thy long, false, and bloody usurpation. Thy tyrannous proscription, and fresh treason; And not so see thyself as to fall down, And, sinking, force a grave, with thine own guilt, As deep as heU, to cover thee and it ?
Wol. No, I can stand, and praise the toils that took me ; And laughing in them die : they were brave snares.
Gos. 'Twere truer valour, if thou durst repent The wrongs thou'st done, and live.
' breed] So the second folio (" bread"). — The first foUo and the 4to " end."
SCENE II.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 101
fVol. Who? I repent, And say I am sorry ? Yes, 'tis the fool's language, And not for Wolfort.
Vand. Wolfort, thou art a devil, And speak'st his language. — Oh, that I had my longing ! Under this row of trees now wovdd I hang him.
Gos. No, let him live until he can repent ; But banish'd from our state : — that is thy doom.
Va7id. Then hang his worthy captain here, this Hemskirk, For profit of th' example.
Gos. No ; let him Enjoy his shame too, with his conscious life To shew how much our innocence contemns All practice ", from the guiltiest, to molest us.
Vand. A noble prince !
Clause. Sh", you must help to join A pail" of hands, as they have done their " hearts here, And to their loves wish " joy.
Gos. As to mine own. — My gracious sister ! worthiest brother !
Vand. I '11 go afore, and have the bonfire made. My fireworks, and flap-di'agons ", and good backrack^; With a peck of little fishes, to di-ink down In healths to this day. \_Exil.
" practice^ Sec note, p. (J,
' t1ieir'\ The modeini editors silcutly print " of."
" ?m/i] Seward's correction. — Old eds. " with."
" jlap-dragons'\ See note, p. O'y.
>■ baclrack'] — Which the Editors of 177fi supposed to mean — salt-fish !— was rightly explained by Mason to be a celebrated Rhenish wine, so named from a town in the Lower Palatuiate. — The wine of Baccharac/i , observes Henderson, " is placed by Sachs at the head of all the gi-owths of the Rhine ; but from what can be learned concernuig its histoi-y, there is some difficulty in believing that it ever could have merited this distuiction. The vineyards of the Rhinegau had been for scvei'al centuries in a high state of cultivation ; but most of them being the property of ecclesiastioal dignitaines and monks, thcu* choicest ])roduce would seldom come into the market. At Baccharach, however, there may have been a general depot for the wines of the adjacent territories, as wjis afterwards the case at Bingen ; and in this way several of the better sorts may have passed under that name, though they did not grow in the immediate vicinity of the place from which they received their denomination." — Hist, of Anc. and Mod. Wines, p. 'M'2.
102 BEGGARS' BUSH. [aci v.
Hig. 'Slight, here be changes ! The bells ha' not so many, nor a dance, Prig.
Prig, Our company 's grown horrible thin by it. — What think you, Ferret ?
Fer. Marry, I do think That we might all be lords now, if we could stand for 't.
Hig. Not I, if they should offer it : I '11 dislodge first. Remove the Bush to " another climate.
Clause. Sir, you must thank this worthy burgomaster. Here be friends >' ask to be look'd on too, And thank'd ; who, though their trade and course of life Be not so perfect but it may be better' d. Have yet us'd me with courtesy, and been true Subjects unto me^ while I was their king ; A place I know not well how to resign. Nor unto whom. But this I will entreat Your grace ; command them follow me to Bruges ; Where I will take the care on me to find Some manly, and more profitable course, To fit them as a part of the republic.
Gos. Do you hear, sirs ? do so.
Hig. Thanks to your good grace !
Prig. To your good lordship !
Fer. May you both live long !
Clause. Attend me at Vandunk's, the burgomaster's.
[Exeunt all except Higqen, Prig, Ferret, and Snap.
Hig. Yes, to beat hemp, and be whipt twice a week, Or turn the wheel for Crab the rope-maker ; Or learn to go along with him his course ; That 's a fine course now, i' the commonwealth. — Prig, What say you to it ?
Prig. It is the back war d'st course I know i' the world.
Hig. Then Higgen will scarce thrive by it, You do conclude ?
Prig. Faith, hardly, very hardly.
Hig. Troth, I am partly of your mind. Prince Prig : And therefore, farewell, Flanders ! Higgen will seek
« to] Seward silently printed « unto" ; the Editors of 1778 « into." y Here he friends'] Seward silently printed " Here he more friends''
SCENE 11.] BEGGARS' BUSH. 103
Some safer shelter, in some other climate, With this his tatter'd colony. Let me see ; Snap, Ferret, Prig, and Higgen, all are left O' the true blood : what, shall we into England ?
Prig. Agreed.
Hig. Then bear up bravely with your Brute", my lads ! Higgen hath prigg'd the prancers* in his days, And sold good penny-worths : we will have a coui'se ; The spirit of Bottom is grown bottomless^.
Prig. I '11 maund*^ no more, nor cant.
Hig. Yes, your sixpenny-worth In private, brother : sixpence is a sum I '11 steal you any man's dog for.
Prig. For sixpence more You '11 tell the o^^ler where he is.
' idtli your Brute] i.e. with your Biiitus, — ^vitll him who will lead you into Eng- land as Biiitus, the descendant of .iEneas, is said to have led thither his Trojan companions. — The Editoi's of 1778 rightly explamed the passage as alluding to Brute or Brutus: j'et Mason (who must have been seized with a fit of mental blindness) was imable to " perceive the allusion ", and proposed to read " ' with your brutes ', — meaning — their horses " ! ! !
" iwigg^d the prancers'] " A Prlggcr of Prancers is a horse-stealer, for to Prig signifies in the Canting language to steale, and Pranccr signifies a horse. These walke (in frieze or lether Jerkins) with a wand in theii* hands, watclung in what pasture [are] any horses fit for their turne, and those within three or fom'e nights after ai'e conueyd away at the least 60 miles from the place : if they meete the Owners in their gromid, they haue shifts to auoide his suspition by feigning they haue lost their way to such a towne. These Hackney-men that let out horses will request semice at gentlemens houses, then* skill bemg to keepe a Gelding well ; and, if they get entertainment, they stand to theii- word, for they keepe the Gelding so well, that his Maister shall neuer finde fault with any disease he hath, \-nlesse it be that he had the dizzjTies in his head, whidi made him reele out of his stable to bee sold forty miles off" at a fayre. These haue their female spycs that sm-uey medowes and closes, and long ouely for horse- flesh ". Dekker's Belman of London, &c., sig. D, ed. 1608.
•> TJie apirit of Bottom is grown bottomless'] " At the conclusion of Beaumont and Fletcher's Beggars^ Bush" says Steevens, " there seems to be a sneer at this character of Bottom [in Shakespeare's Midsummer-Night'' s Dream] ; but I do not very clearly perceive its drift. ... It may mean, that either the public gi'ew indifferent to bad actors, to plays in general, or to characters, the liumour of which consisted in blunders." Note on Midsummer -Night's Dream, act v. sc. 1. Whatever be the meajiing of the passage, I do not believe that Steevens has hit it by any of his conjectures.
"^ inaund] See note, p. .30.
104 BEGGARS' BUSH. [act v.
Hig. 'Tis right : Higgen must practise, so must Prig, to eat ; And write the letter, and gi^ the word.
But now No more, as either of these
Prig. But as true beggars As e'er we were
Hig. We stand here for an epilogue. Ladies, youi* bounties first ! the rest will follow ; For women's favours are a leading alms : If you be pleas' d, look cheerly, throw youi- eyes Out at your masks.
Prig. And let your beauties sparkle.
Hig. So may you ne'er want dressings, jewels, gowns, Still i' the fashion !
Prig. Nor the men you love. Wealth nor discourse to please you !
Hig. May you, gentlemen. Never want good fresh suits, nor Uberty !
Prig. May every merchant here see safe his ventures !
Hig. And every honest citizen his debts in !
Prig. The lawyers gain good clients !
Hig. And the clients Good counsel !
Prig. All the gamesters here, good fortune !
Hig. The drunkards, too, good wine !
Prig. The eaters, meat Fit for their tastes and palates !
Hig. The good wives. Kind husbands !
Prig. The young maids, choice of suitors !
Hig. The midwives, merry hearts !
Prig. And all, good cheer !
Hig. As you are kind unto us and our Bush ! We are the beggars, and your daily beadsmen, And have your money ; but the alms we ask. And live by, is your grace : give that, and then We '11 boldly say, our word is, Come agen ! [Exeunt.
LOVE'S CURE;
THE MARTIAL MAID.
Loves Cure, or. The Martial Maid.
In the folios, 1647, 1679. The second folio adds " A Corned!/."
This comedy appears to have been written wholly by Fletcher, the Epilogue mentioning only a single author : the Prologue, which gives Beaumont a share in the composition, is of no authority, as it was spoken at a revival of the play.
The date of the original representation of Love's Cure is uncertain. If Weber be right in supposing that a passage in act ii. sc. 2, —
" did the cold Muscovite beget thee, That lay here lieger in the last great frost ? " —
refei-s to the Russian ambassador who was in England in 1622 (see note ad /.), the comedy was perhaps produced towards the end of that year, or in 1623.
PROLOGUE,
AT THE REVIVING OF THIS PLAY.
Statues and pictures challenge price and fame,
If they can justly boast and prove they came
From Phidias or Apelles. None deny,
Poets and painters hold a sympathy ;
Yet theu' works may decay, and lose their grace,
Receiving blemish in their limbs or face ;
When the mind's art has this preeminence.
She still retain eth her first excellence.
Then why should not this dear piece be esteem'd
Child to the richest fancies that e'er teem'd ?
When not their meanest off-spring that came forth
But bore the image of their fathers' worth,
Beaumont's and Fletcher's, whose desert out-weighs
The best applause, and their least sprig of bays
Is worthy Phoebus ; and who comes to gather
Their fruits of Avit, he shall not rob the treasure.
Nor can you ever surfeit of the plenty.
Nor can you call them rare, though they be dainty :
The more you take, the more you do them right ;
And we will thank you for your own delight.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
his friends.
Pedro de Vitelli.
Lamoral,"
Anastro,
Fernando de Alvarez.
Lucio, his son.
Saavedra, friend to Alvarez.
Piorato, a swordsman.
Assistente.
Alguazier.
Herald.
Pachijco Alasto, a cobbler.
Lazarillo, his servant.
Mendoza Pediculo de Vermini, a
botcher. Metaldi de Forgio, a smith.
Bobadilla Spindola Zancho, servant to Eugenia, and afterwards steward to Alvarez.
Stephano, Servants, Pages, Watch, Guard, Spectators.
Eugenia, wife to Alvarez. Clara, her daughter. Genevora, sister to Vitelli. Malroda, misti'ess to Vitelli.
Scene — Seville.
LOVE'S CURE;
THE MARTIAL MAID.
ACT I.
SCENE I.— A street.
Enter Vitelli, Lamoral, and An astro.
Vit. Alvarez pardon'd !
Anas. And retm'ii'd.
Lam. I saw him land At St. Lucar's ; and such a general welcome Fame, as harbinger to his brave actions, Had with the easy people prepar'd for him, As if by his command alone, and fortune, Holland, with those Low Provinces that hold out Against the iVi'ch-duke, were again compell'd With their obedience to give up their lives To be at his devotion.
Vit. You amaze me ; For, though I have heai'd that, when he fled from Seville To save his life (then forfeited to law For murdering Don Pedro my dear uncle), His extreme wants enforced him to take pay In tV army, sat down then before Ostend ; 'Twas never yet reported, by whose favour He durst presume to entertain a thought Of coming home with pardon.
112 LOVE'S CURE. Iact i.
Anas. 'Tis our nature Or not to hear, or not to give belief To what we wish far from our enemies.
Lam. Sir, 'tis most certain, the Infanta's letters, Assisted by the Arch-duke's, to king Philip, Have not alone secur'd him from the rigour Of our Castihan justice, but return'd him A free man, and in grace.
Vit. By what curs'd means Could such a fugitive arise unto The knowledge of their highnesses ? much more, (Though known) to stand but in the least degree Of favour with them ?
Lam. To give satisfaction To your demand (though to praise him I hate Can yield me small contentment), I will tell you, And truly ; since, should I detract his worth, 'Twould argue want of merit in myself. Briefly to pass his tedious pilgrimage For sixteen years, a banish'd guilty man, And to forget the storms, the affrights, the horrors. His constancy, not fortune overcame, I bring him, with his little son, grown man, (Though 'twas said here he took a daughter with him,) To Ostend's bloody siege % that stage of war, Wherein the flower of many nations acted. And the whole Christian world spectators were : There by his son (or were he by adoption Or nature his) a brave scene was presented. Which I make '^ choice to speak of, since from that The good success of Alvarez had beginning.
Vit. So I love virtue in an enemy, That I desire, in the relation of This young man's glorious deed, you 'd keep yourself A friend to truth and it.
Lam. Such was my purpose.
» Ostend's bloody siege, Sec] See note, vol. iii. 154. ^ make'] Weber chose to pinnt " made ".
SCENE I.] LOVE'S CURlv 113
The town being oft assaulted, but in vain,
To dare the proud defendants to a sally,
Weary of ease, Don luigo Pcralta,
Son to the general of our Castile forces.
All arm'd, advanced within shot of their walls.
From whence the musketeers play'd thick upon him ;
Yet he, brave youth, as careless of the danger
As careful of his honour, drew his sword,
And wa%dng it about his head, as if
He dar'd one spirited like himself to trial
Of single valour, he made his retreat.
With such a slow, and yet majestic pace,
As if he still called loud, " Dare none come on ? ''■
When suddenly from a postern of the town
Two gallant horsemen issuM, and o'ertook him,
The army looking on, yet not a man
That durst relieve the rash adventurer ;
'V^niich Lucio, son to Alvarez, then seeing.
As in the vant-guard he sat bravely mounted,
(Or were it pity of the youth's misfortune.
Care to preserve the honoui" of his country.
Or bold desire to get himself a name)
He made his brave horse like a whii'hvind bear him
Among the combatants ; and in a moment
Discharg'd his petronel " with such sure aim,
That of the adverse party from his horse
One tumbled dead ; then wheeling round, and drawing
A falchion, swift as lightning he came on
Upon the other, and with one strong bloAV,
In view of the amazed town and camp,
He strake him dead, and brought Peralta off
With double honour to himself.
Vit. 'Twas brave : But the success of this ?
Lam. The camp receiv'd him With acclamations of joy and welcome ; And, for addition to the fair reward
e petronel] " A small gun ustnl l>.v the cavalry." Weber. VOL. IX. I
114 ' LOVE'S CURE. [act i.
(Being a massy chain of gold given to him
By young Peralta's father,) he was brought '
To the Infanta's presence, kiss'd her hand,
And from that lady (greater in her goodness
Than her high birth) had this encouragement :
" Go on, young man : yet, not to feed thy valour
With hope of recompense to come from me,
For present satisfaction of what 's past.
Ask any thing that 's fit for me to give
And thee to take, and be assur'd of it."
Anas. Excellent princess !
Vit. And styl'd Avorthily i
The heart-blood, nay, the soul of soldiers. But what was his request ?
Lam. That the repeal Of Alvarez makes plain : he humbly begg'd His father's pardon, and so movingly Told the sad story of your uncle's death. That the Infanta wept ; and instantly Granting his suit, working the Arch -duke to it. Their letters were directed to the king. With whom they so prevail' d, that Alvarez Was freely pardon'd.
Vit. 'Tis not in the king To make that good.
Anas. Not in the king ! what subject Dares contradict his power ? I
Vit. In this I dare, *
And will ; and not call his prerogative In question, nor presume to limit it. I know he is the master of his laws. And may forgive the forfeits made to them. But not the injury done to my honour : And since, forgetting my brave uncle's merits. And many services under Duke D'Alva, He suffers him to fall, wresting from Justice The powerful sword that would revenge his death, I 'U fiU with this Astrsea's empty hand. And in my just wreak make this arm the king's.
SCENE II. I LOVE'S CURE. 115
My deadly hate to Alvarez and his house,
Which as I grew in years hath still increas'd
(As if it calFd on Time to make me man).
Slept while it had no object for her fury
But a weak woman and her talk'd-of daughter ;
But now, since there are quarries worth her flight "',
Both in the father and his hopeful son,
I '11 boldly cast her off, and gorge her full
With both their hearts. To further which, your friendship
And oaths will your assistance : let your deeds
Make answer to me^: useless are all words.
Till you have writ performance with your swords. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A room in the house of Alvakez.
Enter Bobadilla, and Lucio in woman's clothes.
Lucio. Go, fetch my work. This ruff was not well starch'd; So tell the maid ; 't has too much blue in it : And look you that the partridge and the pullen Have clean meat and fi'esh water, or my mother Is Like to hear on 't.
Bob. Oh, good St. Jaques, help me ! Was there ever such an hermaphrodite heard of? would any wench li^dng, that should hear and see what I do, be wrought to believe that
^ quaiiies %corth her flighf] — quarries, i. e. game, prey : see note, vol. ii. 554. — Both the folios " quarries, worth her sight ". — " The con-ectiou in the text is S^Tiipsou's, and there can be no doubt of its propriety, as these lines are a con- tinued chain of metaphors from falconi-y." Weber.
« To further which, your friericlship
A ml oaths will your assistance : let your deeds
Make answer to me'] So the passage was pointed by Sj-mpson, and, no doubt, rightly (Mason observes that the word "wiZr' is used in a similar sense at
p. 119,—
" Send for music, And will the cooks to use their best of cunning ", &c.). The Editors of 177« prmted,—
" To fm'ther which, yom* friendship, And oaths ! Will your assistance let your deeds Make answer to me I " and so Weber.
I 2
116 LOVE'S CURE. [act i.
the best of a man lies under this petticoat^ and that a cod- piece were far fitter here than a pinned placket^?
Lucio. You had best talk filthily^ do ; I have a tongue To tell my mother, as well as ears to hear Your ribaldry.
Boh. Nay, you have ten women's tongues that way, I am sure. Why, my young master, or mistress, madam, don, or what you will, what the devil have you to do with pullen or partridge ? or to sit pricking on a clout all day ? You have a better needle, I know, and might make better work, if you had grace to use it.
Lucio. Why, how dare you speak this before me, sirrah ?
Bob. Nay, rather, why dare not you do Avhat I speak ? [Pox] ^, though my lady, your mother, for fear of Vitelh and his faction, hath brought you up like her daughter, and has kept you this twenty year (which is ever since you were born) a close prisoner within doors; yet, since you are a man, and are as well provided as other men are, methinks you should have the same motions of the flesh as other cavaliers of us are inclined unto.
Lucio. Indeed, you have cause to love those wanton motions, They having holp ^ you to an excellent whipping. For doing something (I but put you in mind of it) With the Indian maid the governor sent my mother From Mexico.
Bob. Why, I but taught her a Spanish trick in charity, and holp the king to a subject, that may live to take Grave Maurice' prisoner; and that was more good to the state
' placket] See note, vol. vi. 508.
s [Pox~\ A break here ui both the foUos.
^ liolpl Theobald's correction. — Both the folios " hope "'.
' Grave Maurice'\ SjTnpson printed " grave " without a capital letter, at the suggestion of Seward, who observed that "it is an epithet only, and a characteristic of prince Maiu'ice of Nassau, who, after performing great actions against the Spaniards, is said to have died of grief on account of the siege of Breda", &c. ; and so the Editors of 1778 ! ! ! — " ChavexB Dutch, and rjraaf German (not for prince or count, as Mason has it, but simply) for count ; and the Nassau family, one branch of which were elected Stadtholders, being counts of the empire, were consequently denominated Grave Maurice, Grave Henry, &c. So in Deliker's Guls Hornbook, ' You may discourse how honourably your Grave used you ; observe that you call your Grave MoAirice your Grave '." Weber.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 11"
than a tliousaud sucli as you arc ever like to do : and 1 ^y\\\ tell you, (in a fatherly cai-e of the infant, I speak it,) if he live (as, bless the babe, in passion I remcral)er him !) to your years, shall he spend his time in pinning, painting, purling, and perfuming, as you do ? No ; he shall to the wars, use his Spanish pike, though with the danger of the lash, as his father has done; and, when he is provoked, as I am now, draw his Toledo desperately, as
Lncio. You Avill not kill me ? Oh !
Bob. I knew this would silence him : how he hides his eyes ! If he were a wench now, as he seems, what an advantage had I, drawing two Toledos, when one can do this ! But, oh me, my lady ! I must put up [Aside] . — Young master, I did but jest. — Oh, Custom, what hast thou made of him ! [Aside.
Enter Eugenia and Stephano '.
Ei((/. For bringing this, be still my friend ; no more A servant to me.
Bob. What 's the matter ?
Eiiff. Here, Even here, where I am happy to receive Assurance of my Alvarez^ return, I will kneel down ; and may those holy thoughts That noAV possess me wholly, make this place A temple to me, where I may give thanks For this unhop'd-for blessing Heaven's kind hand Hath pour'd upon me !
Lucio. Let my duty, madam. Presume, if you have cause of joy, to entreat I may shai'e in it.
Bob. 'Tis well he has forgot hoAv I frighted him yet ^
[Aside.
Euy. Thou shalt : but first kneel with me, Lucio, No more Posthumia now : thou hast a father,
i Stephano] Both the foUos " Soi-vauts" (a mistake for «Scrv:iuc").
^ how I frirjhttd him yet] « The word 'yet ' at the end of this line offends Sympson ; but it is frequently used in all these plays in the sense of however or " nevertheless ". Mason, See Giflbrd's note on Jonson's Worlv, ii. 239.
118 LOVE'S CURE. [act i.
A father living to take off that name,
Which my too-credulous fears that he was dead
Bestow'd upon thee. Thou shalt see him, Lucio,
And make him young again by seeing thee,
Who only liadst a being in my womb
When he went from me, Lucio. Oh, my joys
So far transport me, that I must forget
The ornaments of matrons, modesty.
And grave behaviour ! But let all forgive me.
If in th' expression of my soul's best comfort.
Though old, I do a while forge c mine age.
And play the wanton in the entertainment
Of those dehghts I have so long despaired of.
Imc'lo. Shall I, then, see my father?
Eug. This hour, Lucio; Which reckon the beginning of thy life, I mean that life in which thou shalt appear To be such as I brought thee forth, a man. This womanish disguise, in which I have So long conceal'd thee, thou shalt now cast off. And change those qualities thou didst learn from me For masculine virtues ; for which seek no tutor, But let thy father's actions be thy precepts. — And for thee, Zancho, now expect reward For thy true service.
Bob. Shall I ?— You hear, fellow Stephano ? learn to know me more respectively '. How dost thou think I shall become the steward's chair ? ha ? will not these slender haunches shew well with a gold chain and a night-cap "> after supper, when I take the accounts ?
Eug. Haste, and take down those blacks, with which my chamber
* respectively'] i. c. respectfully ; as in vol. iii. 494, vol. v. 376 (so the adjec- tive respective was formerly common in the sense of respectful ; as in the conclud- ing speech of the 4th act of Shakespeare's Two Gentlemen of Vcrooia, where Mr. Knight wrongly explains the word).
™ with a gold chain and a night-cap'] Both the folios " with a chaine, and a gold night-cap "; and so Sympson (though he proposed the right reading m a note), and Weber. That in great families, a gold cliam was worn by stewards, appears from innumerable passages of our early writers.
SCENE 111.] LOVE'S CURE. 119
Hath, Kke the widow, her sad mistress, mourn'd, And hang up for it the rich Persian arras Us'd on my wedding-niglit ; for this to me Shall be a second marriage : send for music. And will the cooks to use their best of cunning " To please the palate.
Bob. Will your ladyship have a potato-pie ^"i 'tis a good stirring dish for an old lady after a long Lent.
Ei(g. Begone, I say ! why, sir, you can go faster ?
Bob. I could, madam; but I am now to practise the steward's pace; that's the reward I look for: every man must fashion his gait according to his calling. — You, fellow Stephano, may walk faster to overtake preferment ; so, usher me. [Exit, preceded by Stephano.
Lucio. Pray, madam, let the waistcoat I last wrought Be made up for my father : I will have A cap and boot-hose p suitable to it.
Bug. Of that We '11 think hereafter, Lucio ; om* thoughts now Must have no object but thy father's welcome ; To which, thy help !
Lucio. With humble gladness, madam. [Exeunt.
SCENE 111.— A hall in the same.
Enter Alvarez, and Clara in mans clothes.
Alv. Where lost we Saavedi'a?
Clara. He was met, Entering the city, by some gentlemen. Kinsmen, as he said, of his own, with wliom. For compliment- sake (for so I think he term'd it). He was compell'd to stay ; though I much wonder A man that knows to do, and has done well
" cv/nning'i i. e. skill.
' potato-pie] " It has been already observed that potatoes were cniisidcicd as strong provocatives." Weber. Sec vol. vi. 69, vol. viii. .33.S. p boot-hose] See note, vol. iv. 150.
J 20 LOVE'S CURE. [act i.
In the head of his troop, when the bold foe chargM home.
Can learn so suddenly to abuse his time
In apish entertainment. For my part,
By all the glorious rewards of war,
I had rather meet ten enemies in the field,
All sworn to fetch my head, than be brought on
To change an hour^s discourse with one of these
Smooth city-fools or tissue-cavahers,
(The only gallants, as they wisely think,)
To get a jewel, or a wanton kiss
Prom a court-lip, though painted.
Alv. My love Clara '^, (For Lucio is a name thou must forget, With Lucio^s bold behaviour,) though thy breeding V the camp may plead something in the excuse Of thy rough manners, custom having chang'd (Though not thy sex) the softness of thy nature. And Fortune, then a cruel step-dame to thee, ImposM upon thy tender sweetness bm'dens Of hunger, cold, wounds, want, such as would crack The sinews of a man not born a soldier ; Yet, now she smiles, and like a natural mother Looks gently on thee, Clara, entertain Her proffer'd bounties with a wilhng bosom : Thou shalt no more have need to use thy sword ; Thy beauty (which even Belgia hath not alter'd) Shall be a stronger guard to keep my Clara, Than that has been (though never usM but nobly) : And know thus much
Clara. Sir, I know only that It stands not with my duty to gainsay you In any thing : I must and will put on What fashion j'ou think best, though I coidd wish I were what I appear.
Alv. Endeavour rather To be what you are, Clara ; entering here, As you were born, a woman. [Music.
'1 love Clara] I suspect, with Sympson and Seward, that the poet wrote "lov'dCtera".
SCENE in. J LOVE'S CURE. 121
Enter Eugenia, Lucio, and Servants.
Eug. Let choice music^ In the best \ oice that e^er touchM human ear, (For joy hath tied my tongue up,) speak your welcome !
Alv. My soul (for thou giv'st ne^y life to my spirit), INIyriads of joys, though short in number of Thy virtues, fall on thee ! Oh, my Eugenia, The assurance that I do embrace thee, makes My twenty years of sorrow but a dream ; And by the nectai* which I take from these I feel my age restor'd, and, like old yEson, Grow young again !
Eiig. INIy lord, long-wish'd-for, welcome ! ^Tis a sweet briefness ; yet in that short word All pleasures which I may call mine begin ; And may they long increase, before they find A second period ! Let mine eyes now surfeit On this so-wishM-for object, and my lips. Yet modestly, pay back the parting kiss You trusted with them, when you fled fi'om Se\ille With little Clara my sweet daughter : Kves she ? Yet I could chide myself, having you here. For being so covetous of all joys at once. To inquu'e for her ; you being, alone, to me INIy Clara, Lucio, my lord, mj'^self. Nay, more than all the world.
Alv. As you to me are.
Eug. Sit down, and let me feed upon the story Of your past dangers, now you are here in safety : It will give relish and fresh appetite To my delights, if such delights can cloy me. Yet do not, Alvarez : let me first jaeld you Account of my life in yoiu" absence, and Make you acquainted how I have preserved The jewel left lock'd up in my womb, when you, In being forc'd to leave your country, sufi'er'd A civil death.
122 LOVE'S CURE. [act j.
Alv. Doj my Eugenia ; 'Tis that I most desire to hear.
Euff. Then know [Clashing of swords within.
Alv. What noise is that ?
Saav. [within'] If you are noble enemies. Oppress me not with odds, but kill me fairly !
Vit. [within] Stand off ! I am too many of myself.
Enter Bobadilla.
Bob. Murder, murder, murder ! Your friend, my lord, Don Saavedra, is set upon in the streets by your enemies, Vitelli and his faction : I am almost killed with looking on them.
Alv. I ^11 free him, or fall with him ! Draw thy sword. And follow me ! [Exit.
Clara. Fortune, I give thee thanks For this occasion once m^ore to use it ! [Exit.
Bob. Nay, hold not me, madam : if I do any hm-t, hang me.
Luc. Oh, I am dead with fear ! Let 's fly into Your closet, mother.
Eug. No hour of my life Secure of danger ! Heaven be merciful, Or now at once despatch me !
Enter Vitelli, pursued hy Alvarez and Saavedra ; and Clara heating off Anastro.
Clara. Follow him : Leave me to keep these off.
Alv. Assault my friend. So near my house !
Vit. Nor in it will spare thee. Though 'twere a temple ; and I '11 make it one, I being the priest, and thou the sacrifice I '11 offer to my uncle.
Ah. Haste thou to him, And say I sent thee ! [They fight.
Clara. 'Twas put bravely by
And that — and yet ' comes on, and boldly — rare !
r and yet] Sympson silently printed " ijct he" ; and so his successors.
SCENE Ml.] LOVE'S CURE. 123
In the wars, where emulation and example
Join to increase the courage, and make less
The danger, valour and true resolution
Never appeared so lovely — brave again !
Sure, he is more than man ; and, if he fall.
The best of virtue, fortitude, would die with him :
And can I suffer it ? forgive me, duty !
So I love valour as I mil protect it
Against my father, and redeem it, though
'Tis forfeited by one I hate.
Vit. Come on ! All is not lost yet : you shall buy me dearer Before you have me. — Keep off.
Clara. Fear me not : Thy worth has took me prisoner, and my sword For this time knows thee only for a friend. And to all else I turn the point of it.
Saav. Defend your father^s enemy !
Alv. Ai't thou mad ?
Clara. Ai'e you men rather? Shall that valoui-, which Begot you lawful honour in the wars. Prove now the parent of an infamous bastard. So foul, yet so long-liv'd, as murder will Be to youi' shames ? Have each of you, alone. With yom- own dangers only, purchas'd glory From multitudes of enemies, not allowing Those nearest to you to have part in it, And do you now join, and lend mutual help Against a single opposite ? Hath the mercy Of the great king but newly wash'd away The blood that with the forfeit of yom* life Clcav'd to your name and family, like an ulcer, In this again to set a deeper dye vipon Youi- infamy ? You '11 say he is your foe, And by his rashness call'd on his own ruin : Remember yet, he was first wrong' d, and honour Spurr'd him to what he did ; and next, the place Where now he is, your house, which by the laws Of hospitable duty shoidd protect him ; Have you been twenty years a stranger to it,
124 LOVE'S CURE. [act i.
To make your entrance now in blood ? or think you Your countryman, a true-born Spaniard, will be An offering fit to please the Genius of it ? No ; in this I ^11 presume to teach my father, And this first act of disobedience shall Confirm I am most dutiful.
Alv. I am pleas'd With what I dare not give allowance * to. — [Aside.
Unna^tural wretch, what wilt thou do ?
Clara. Set free A noble enemy : come not on I by [Heaven t] , You pass to him through me ! — The way is open : Farewell : when next I meet you, do not look for A friend, but a vow'd foe ; I see you worthy. And therefore now preserve you for the honom* Of my sword only.
Vit. Were this man a friend, How would he win me, that, being my vowM foe, Deserves so well ! \_Aside.'\ — I thank you for my life ; But how I shall deserve it, give me leave Hereafter to consider. [Exit.
Alv. Quit thy fear; All danger is blown over : I have letters To the governor, in the king's name, to secure us From such attempts hereafter; yet we need not. That have such strong guards of our own, di-ead others ; And, to increase thy comfort, know, this young man. Whom with such fervent earnestness you eye. Is not what he appears, but such a one As thou with joy wilt bless, thy daughter Clara.
Eug. A thousand blessings in that word !
Alv. The reason Why I have bred her up thus, at more leisure I will impart unto you. Wonder not At what you have seen her do, it being the least Of many great and valiant undertakings She hath made good Avith honour.
• nllowancc] i. e. apjirubation .
* [Heaven] A break here in both the folios.
■^CENK I.] LOVE'S CURE. Ub
Eug. I '11 return The joy I have in her with one as great To you, my Alvarez. You, in a man, Have given to me a daughter; in a woman, I give to you a son : this was the pledge You left here with me, whom I have brought iiji Different from what he was, as you did Clara, And with the like success ; as she appears, Alter'd by custom, more than woman, he, Transforni'd by his soft life, is less than man.
Alv. Fortune in this gives ample satisfaction For all oiu' sorrows past.
Lucio. My dearest sister !
Clara. Kind brother !
Ah. Now our mutual care must be Employ'd to help wrong'd Natm'e to recoAcr Her right in either of them, lost by custom : To you I give my Clara, and receive My Lucio to my charge ; and we '11 contend, With loving industry, who soonest can Turn this man woman, or this woman man, [Exeunt.
ACT 11. SCENE l.—A street.
Enter Pacuieco and Lazarillo.
Pack. Boy, my cloak and rapier : it fits not a gentleman of my rank to walk the streets in querpo ".
Laz. Nay, you are a very rank gentleman, signior. I am very hungiy : they tell me in Seville here, I look like an eel with a man's head ; and yom' neighboiu' the smith here hard by would have borrowed me th' other day to have fished with me, because he had lost his angle-rod.
" in querpo] i. e. in close habit, without a cloak, — in an undress. (Sp. cuerpo, the body).
126 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
Pack. Oh, happy thou, Lazarillo, beiug the cause of other men^s wits, as in thine own ! Live lean and witty still : oppress not thy stomach too much : gross feeders, great sleepers; great sleepers, fat bodies; fat bodies, lean brains. No, Lazarillo ; I will make thee immortal, change thy humanity into deity, for I will teach thee to hve upon nothing.
Laz. Faith, signior, I am immortal then already, or very near it, for I do live upon little or nothing. Belike that 's the reason the poets are said to be immortal; for some of them live upon their wits, which is indeed as good as little or nothing. But, good master, let me be mortal still, and let ^s go to supper.
Pach. Be abstinent ; shew not the corruption of thy generation : he that feeds shall die ; therefore, he that feeds not shall live.
Laz. Ay, but how long shall he live ? there 's the question.
Pach. As long as he can without feeding. Didst thou read of the miraculous maid in Flanders
Laz. No, nor of any maid else; for the miracle of vii'- ginity now-a-days ceases ere the virgin can read virginity.
Pach. She that lived three year without any other suste- nance than the smell of a rose ?
Laz. I heard of her, signior ; but they say her guts shrunk all into lutestrings, and her nether parts clinged together like a serpent's tail ; so that though she continued a woman still above the girdle, beneath yet '^ she was monster.
Pach. So are most women, believe it.
Laz. Nay all women, signior, that can live only upon the smell of a rose.
Pach. No part of the history is fabulous.
Laz. I think rather, no part of the fable is historical. But for all this, sir, my rebellious stomach will not let me be immortal : I will be as immortal as mortal hunger will suffer. Put me to a certain stint, sir ; allow me but a red herring a-day.
Pach. O, de Dios ! wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies ?
' heoieath yet] Sympson silently printed " 7jet leneath ". — Q,y. " beneath it " (the MS. having had « yt ") ?
SCENE!.] LOVE'S CURE. 127
Laz. He that eats nothing but a red herring a-day shall ne'er be broiled for the devil's rasher : a pilcher^ signior, a surdiny'% an olive, that I may be a philosopher first, and immortal after.
Pack. Patience, Lazarillo ; let contemplation be thy food a while : I say unto thee, one pease was a soldier's provant" a whole day at the destruction of Jerusalem,
Laz. Ay, an it were any where but at the destruction of a place, I '11 be hanged.
Enter Metaldi and Mendoza.
Met. Signior Pachieco Alasto, my most ingenious cobbler of Seville, the huenas noches to yoiu* signiory !
Pach. Signior Metaldi de Forgio, my most famous smith and man of metal, I return your courtesy ten-fold, and do humble my bonnet beneath the shoe-sole of yom' congie. — The like to you, Signior Mendoza Pediculo de Verminiy, my most exquisite hose-heeler.
Laz. Here 's a greeting betwixt a cobbler, a smith, and a botcher ! they all belong to the foot, which makes them stand so much upon their gentry. [Aside.
Mend. Signior Lazarillo !
Laz. Ah, signior, si! Nay, we are all signiors here in Spain, from the jakes-farmer to the grandee or adelantado^. — This botcher looks as if he were dough-baked ; a little butter now, and I could eat him Hke an oaten cake : his father's diet was new cheese and onions, when he got him : what a scallion-faced'» rascal 'tis ! [Aside.
Met. But why, Signior Pachieco, do you stand so much on the priority and antiquity of your quality^ (as you call it) in comparison of ours ?
" pilcher'] i. e. pilchax'd.
'" surdiny'] " A sardella, sardina, i. e. anchovy." Weber. The sardine and the anchovy arc distinct fishes, though often confounded with each other.
* provantl " i. e. provision, ration." Weber.
y Verniini'\ Both the foUos " Vemiun ".
^ adelantado] i. e. the king's lieutenant of a country, or deputy in any im- portant place of charge.
■ scallion-faced] "A scallion is a kind of small onion |a shallot]." Weber.
•" quality'] " i. e. profession or calling." Weber.
128 LOVE'S CURE. - [act ii.
Mend. Ay ; your reason for that?
Pack. Why, thou iron-pated smith, and thou woollen- witted hose-heeler, hear what I will speak indifferently, and according to antient writers, of onr three professions; and let the upright Lazarillo be both judge and moderator.
Laz. Still am I the most immortally hungry that may be.
Pack. Suppose thou wilt derive thy pedigree, like some of the old heroes (as Hercules, yEneas, Achilles), lineally from the gods, making Saturn thy great-grandfather, and Vulcan thy father : Vulcan was a god
Laz. He ^U make Vulcan 3; our godfather by-and-by.
Pack. Yet, I say, Saturn was a crabbed blockhead ; and Vulcan a limping horn-head, for Venus his wife was a strumpet, and Mars begat all her children : therefore, how- ever, thy original must of necessity spring from bastardy. Fui'ther, what can be a more deject spirit in man, than to lay his hands under every one^s horse's feet, to do him ser- vice, as thou dost? — For thee, I will be brief: thou dost botch, and not mend; thou art a liider of enormities, viz. scabs, chilblains, and kibed heels; much prone thou art to sects and heresies, disturbing state and government; for how canst thou be a sound member in the commonwealth, that art so subject to stitches in the ancles ? — Blush and be silent, then, oh, ye mechanics ! compare no more with the politic cobbler ; for cobblers in old time have prophesied : what may they do now, then, that have every day waxed better and better? Have we not the length of every man's foot ? are we not daily menders ? yea, and what menders ? not horse-menders
Laz. Nor manners-menders.
Pack. But sole-menders : oh, divine cobblers ! Do we not, like the wise man, spin our own threads (or our wives for us)? do we not, by our sewing the hide, reap the beef? are not we of the gentle-craft, whilst both you are but crafts- men? You will say, you fear neither iron nor steel, and what you get is wrought out of the fire : I must answer you again though, all this is but forgery. You may likewise say, a man 's a man that has but a hose on his head : I must like- wise answer, that man is a botcher that has a heeled hose on
SCENE I.J LOVE'S CURE. 129
his head. To conclude, there can be no comparison with the cobbler, who is all in all in the commonwealth, has his politic eye and ends on every man's steps that walks, and whose course shall be lasting to the world's end.
Met. I give place : the wit of man is wonderful : thou hast hit the nail on the head, and I will give thee six pots for't, though I ne'er clinch shoe again.
Enter Vitelli and Alguazier.
Pack. Who's this? oh, our Alguazier '^; as arrant a knave as e'er wore one head under two offices; he is one side Alguazier.
Met. The other side Sergeant.
Mend. That 's both sides carrion, I am sure.
Pach. This is he apprehends whores in the way of justice, and lodges 'em in his own house in the way of profit. He with him is the grand don Vitelli, 'twixt whom and Fernando Alvarez the mortal hatred is : he is indeed my don's bawd, and does at this present lodge a famous com'tezan of his, lately come from Madrill ^.
Vit. Let her want nothing, signior, she can ask : What loss or injiu-y you may sustain I will repair, and recompense your love : Only that fellow's coming I mislike, And did forewarn her of him. Bear her this. With my best love ; at night I '11 ^isit her. [Gives money.
Alg. I rest your lordship's servant. Vit. Good even, signior^. — Oh, Alvarez, thou hast brought a son with thee Both brightens and obscures om' nation. Whose pure strong beams on us shoot like the sun's On baser fires. I woidd to Heaven my blood
f Algitazier] "This should be more correctly, Alguazil". Weber. In a former play we have had " Algazeirs": see vol. viii. 4!il .
f Madrill] i. e. Madrid. This form of the name (which occurs again in the present work) was very common : see, for instance, Middleton and Rowley's Spanish (?«/)sy,— Middleton's Wods, iv. 104, 118, &c. ed. Dyce. So the first folio. — The second folio " Madrid " ; and so the modern editors.
e Sirjnior] Both folios " signiors" ; and so the modern editors : but assuredly Vitelli (—compare his preceding speech—) is addressing the Alguazier only.
VOL. IX. K
130 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
Had never stain' d thy bold unfortunate hand.
That with mine honour I might emulate,
Not persecute such virtue ! I will see him,
Though with the hazard of my life -, no rest
In my contentious spirits can I find,
Till I have gratified him in like kind. ^Aside, and then exit.
Alg. I know you not: what are ye? hence, ye base besognios^!
Poch. Marry, cazzo, Signior Alguazier ! do you not know us? why, we are your honest neighbours, the cobbler, smith, and botcher, that have so often sat snoring cheek by joll with your signiory in rug at midnight.
Laz. Nay, good signior, be not angry ; you must under- stand, a cat and such an officer see best in the dark.
Met. By this hand, I could find in my heart to shoe his head !
Pack. Why, then [we] know you, signior : thou mongrel, begot at midnight, at the gaol-gate, by a beadle on a catch- pole's wife, are not you he that was whipt out of Toledo for perjury ?
Mend. Next, condemned to the galleys for pilfery, to the bull's pizzle ?
Met. And after called to the Inquisition for apostacy ?
Pach. Ai^e not you he that, rather than you durst go an industrious voyage, being pressed to the islands, skulked till the fleet was gone, and then earned yom- royal "^ a-day by squiring punks and punklings up and down the city ?
Laz. Are not you a Portuguese born, descended o^ the Moors, and came hither into Se\ille with your master, an arrant tailor, in your red bonnet and your blue jacket, lousy; though now your block-head be covered with the Spanish block', and your lashed shoulders with a velvet pee
j?
g besognios] i. e. beggars, needy fellows.
h royal] i. e. spiu'-royal, or spur-ryal : see note, vol.iii. 9. — The modem editors print " ryal " and " rial ".
' block] i. e. hat (properly, the mould on which the crovm is foi-med).
j velvet pee] " Is nonsense : we should read ' velvet peel ', meaning a coat or covering of velvet," Mason.
SCENE I.] LOVE'S CURE. 131
Pack. Are uot you he that have been of thiity callings, yet ne^er a one IfiAvful ? that being a chandler first, professed sincerity, and woiild sell no man raiistard to his beef on the sabbath, and yet sold hj^ocrisy all your life-time ?
Met. Ai'e not you he that were since a surgeon to the stews, and undertook to cure, what the church itself coidd not, strumpets ? that riss '* to yoiu* office by being a great don^s bawd?
Laz. That commit men nightly, oS'enceless, for the gain of a groat a prisoner, which yom* beadle seems to put up, when you share three-pence ?
Mend. Are not you he that is a kisser of men in drunken- ness, and a betrayer in sobriety ?
Alg. Diablo ! they '11 rail me into the galleys again.
[Aside.
Pack. Yes, signior, thou art even he we speak of all this while. Thou may est, by thy place now, lay us by the heels, 'tis true : but take heed ; be wiser, pluck not ruin on thine own head; for never was there such an anatomy', as we shall make thee then ; be wise therefore, oh, thou child of the night ! be friends, and shake hands. Thou art a proper man, if thy beard were redder ^ : remember thy worshipful function, a constable ; though thou turnest day into night, and night into day, what of that? Watch less, and pray more : gird thy bear's skin [viz. thy rug-gown) to thy loins ; take thy staff" in thy hand, and go forth at midnight " : let not thy mittens abate the talons of thy authority, but gripe
k rissl i. e. rose. See note, p. 46. — Both the folios "rise".
' anatomy] See note, vol. iv. 143.
'" Thou art a proper man, if thy beard were redder'] " In a preceding note [see vol. V. 41, and vol. viii. 318] it has been observed, that Judas was painted with a I'ed beard, and to this Pachieco may sneeringly allude, as his fellow Mendoza had before said to the alguacil — ' Are not you he that is a kisser of men in di-unkenness, and a betrayer in sobriety ? ' ", &c. Weiser. But in the pre- sent passage, as Nares remarks {Gloss, in Red Beard), " it is suggested that the Alguaziei-s beard ought to be more red, doubtless, to strike ten'or."
" (jird tliy iea^'^s slin (viz. thy rug-gotmi) to thy loins ; take thy staff in thy hand, and go fwth at midnight] " These words are foiuid only in the first folio." Ed. 1778. "They were probably omitted in folio IG"!', as being a profane allusion to scripture." Webf.r.
K 2
132 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
theft and whoredom, wheresoever thou meetest 'em; bear 'em away like a tempest, and lodge 'em safely in thine own house.
Laz. Would you have whores and thieves lodged in such a house ?
Pack. They ever do so : I have found a thief or a whore there, when the whole suburbs could not furnish me.
Laz. But why do they lodge there ?
Pack. That they may be safe and forth-coming ; for in the morning usually the thief is sent to the gaol, and the whore prostrates herself to the justice.
Mend. Admirable Pachieco !
Met. Thou cobbler of Christendom !
Alg. There is no railing with these rogues : I vriU close with 'em, tiU I can cry quittance [Aside']. — Why, signiors, and my honest neighbours, will you impute that as a neglect of my friends, which is an imperfection in me ? I have been sand-blind from my infancy : to make you amends, you shall sup with me.
Laz. Shall we sup with you, sir ? — O' my conscience, they have wronged the gentleman extremely.
Alg. And, after supper, I have a project to employ you in, shall make you drink and eat merrily this month. I am a little knavish : why, and do not I know all you to be knaves ?
Pack. I grant you, we are aU knaves, and will be your knaves ; but, oh, while you live, take heed of being a proud knave !
Alg. On, then, pass : I will bear out my staff, and my staff shall bear out me.
Laz. Oh, Lazarillo, thou art going to supper ! [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A room in the house 0/ Alvarez. Arms hanging on the walls.
Enter Lccio in mans clothes, and Bobadilla. Lucio. Pray, be not angry.
Bob. I am angry, and I will be angry. Diablo ! what should vou do in the kitchen ? cannot the cooks lick their
SCENE II ] LOVE'S CURE. 133
fingers, without youi' overseeing ? nor the maids make pot- tage, except your dog's head be in the pot ? Don Lucio ? Don Quot-quean ", Don Spinster ! Avear a petticoat still, and put on 3' our smock a' jNIonday ; I will have a baby o' clouts made for it, like a great girl. Nay, if you will needs be starching of ruflFs, and sewing of black-work, I will, of a mild and loA^ng tutor, become a tyrant : your father has committed you to my charge, and I will make a man or a mouse on you.
Lucio. What would you have me do ? This scmny sword So galls my thigh, I would 'twere burnt ! Pish, look, This cloak will ne'er keep on ; these boots too, hide-bound, Make me walk stiff, as if my legs were frozen; And my spurs jingle like a morris- dancer : Lord, how my head aches with this roguish hat ! This masculine attire is most uneasy; I am bound up in it : I had rather walk In foho again, loose, like a woman.
Bob. In foolio, had you not ? Thou mock to Heaven, and Nature, and thy parents ! Thou tender leg of lamb ! Oh, how he walks As if he had be-piss'd himself, and fleers ! Is this a gait for the young cavalier, Don Lucio, son and heir to Alvarez ? Has it a corn ? or does it walk on conscience. It treads so gingerly ? Come on yovu* ways : Suppose me now youi' father's foe, Vitelli, And spying you i' the street, thus I advance : I twist my beard, and then I draw my sword.
Lucio. Alas !
Bob. And thus accost thee ; " Traitorous brat, How dui'st thou thus confront me ? impious twig Of that old stock, dew'd with my kinsman's gore. Draw ! for I '11 quarter thee in pieces four."
Lucio. Nay, prithee, Bobadilla, leave thy fooUng; Put up thy sword : I will not meddle with you.
" Quot-qucan'\ " A corruption of cotqucan, a man wlio employs himself more in women's affairs than in those befitting a man." Webek. Gitford was certainly mistaken in asserting that cotquean is a conniption of cuckquean (note on Jouson's Works, ii. 482). TJicy are distinct words : see Richardson's Diet.
134 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
Ay, justle me, I care not ; I '11 uot draw : Pray, be a quiet man.
Bob. Do you hear ? answer me as you would do Don Vitelli, or I '11 be so bold as to lay the pommel of my sword over the hilts of yom- head. — " My name 's Vitelli, and I '11 have the wall."
Lucio. '' Why, then, I '11 have the kennel : what a coil you keep ! Signior, what happen'd 'twixt my sire and your Kinsman, was long before I saw the world ; No fault of mine, nor will I justify My father's crimes : forget, sir, and forgive, 'Tis Christianity : I pray, put up your sword ; I '11 give you any satisfaction That may become a gentleman. However, I hope you are bred to more humanity Than to revenge my father's wrong on me. That crave your love and peace." — La you now, Zancho, Would not this quiet him, were he ten Vitellis ?
Bob. Oh, craven chicken of a cock o' the game ! Well, what remedy ? Did thy father see this, o' my conscience, he would cut off thy masculine gender, crop thine ears, beat out thine eyes, and set thee in one of the pear-trees for a scare- crow. As I am Vitelli, I am satisfied ; but, as I am Bobadilla Spindola Zancho, steward of the house, and thy father's ser- vant, I could find in my heart to lop ofi" the hinder part of thy face, or to beat all thy teeth into thy mouth. Oh, thou whey-blooded milksop ! I '11 wait upon thee no longer : thou shalt even wait upon me. Come your ways, sir; I shall take a little pains with you else.
Enter Clara hi icomcms clothes.
Clara. Where art, thou, brother Lucio '? — Ran tan tan, ta
ran tan ran tan tan, ta ran tan tan tan ! — Oh, I shall no
more see those golden days ! These clothes Avill never fadge
with me o : a [pox] p o' this filthy vardingale, this hip-hape i !
0 fadge with me'] i. e. suit me.
r [fox'] A break here in botli the foHos.
1 hip-hape] i. e. covering for the hip (to hap in the sense of— to cover, is still commonly used in ScotLind).
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 135
— Brother, why are women's haunches only limited, confined, hooped in, as it were, with these same scurvy vardingales ?
Bob. Because women's haunches only are most subject to display, and fly out.
Clara. Bobadilla, rogue, ten ducats, I hit the prepuce of thy cod-piece !
Lucio. Hold, if you love my life, sister ! I am not Zanclio Bobadilla; I am your brother Lucio. What a fright you haAc put me in !
Clara. Brother ! and wherefore thus ?
Lucio. \Miy, master steward here, Signior Zancho, made me change : he does nothing but misuse me, and call me coward, and swears I shall wait upon him.
Bob. Well, I do no more than I have authority for. — Would I were away though ! for she 's as much too mannish as he too womanish : I dare not meddle with her ; yet I must set a good face on 't, if I had it [Aside] . — 1 have like charge of you, madam ; I am as well to mollify you as to qualify him. What have you to do with armours, and pistols, and javelins, and swords, and such tools ? Remember, mistress, Natm'C hath given you a sheath only, to signify, women are to put up men's weapons, not to draw them. Look you now, is this a fit trot for a gentlewoman ? You shall see the court-ladies move like goddesses, as if they trod air ; they will swim you their measiu'es '', like whiting-mops ■^, as if their feet were fins, and the hinges of their knees oiled. Do they love to ride great- horses f, as you do ? no ; they love to ride great asses sooner. Faith, I knoAv not what to say to ye both : Custom hath turned Natm'e topsy-trn'^y in you.
Clara. Nay, but, master stewai'd
Bob. You cannot trot so fast, but he ambles as slowly.
Clara. Signior Spindle, a\tl11 you hear me ?
Bob. He that shall come to bestride yom* virginity had better be a-foot o'er the dragon.
' measures'\ See note, vol. i. 166.
' wMting-mops'\ "i. c. young whitings, — commonly used as a tcnn of cndoar- meut." Weber.
^ yreat-horses'^ Soc note, vol. vii. l.')9.
136 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
Clara. Very well !
Bob. Did ever Spanish lady pace so ?
Clara. Hold these a little.
[Takes down from the wall a truncheon and iveapons.
Lucio. I '11 not touch 'em, I.
Clara. First do I break your office o'er your pate, You dog-skin-fac'd rogue, pilcher*, you poor- John" ! Which I will beat to stock-fish. [Beats hirn.
Lucio. Sister —
Bob. Madam —
Clara. You cittern-head ^ ! who have you talk'd to, ha ? You nasty, stinking, and ill-countenanc'd cur !
Bob. By this hand, I '11 bang your brother for this, when I get him alone.
Clara. How ! — Kick him, Lucio. — He shall kick you. Bob, Spite o' thy "^ nose ; that 's flat.— Kick him, I say. Or I will cut X thy head ofl' ! [Lucio kicks him.
Bob. Softly, you'd best !
Clara. Now, thou lean, dried, and ominous-visag'd knave. Thou false and peremptory steward, pray ! For I will hang thee up in thine own chain)'.
Lucio. Good sister, do not choke him.
Bob. Murder ! murder ! [Exit.
Clara. Well, I shall meet with you. — Lucio, who bought this? 'Tis a reasonable good one : but there hangs one, Spain's champion ne'er us'd truer ; with this stafi" Old Alvarez has led up men so close. They could almost spit in the cannon's mouth ; Whilst I with that, and this, well mounted, scurr'd ^
' pilcher'] i. e. pilchard.
" poor-John'] " i. e. halce di-ied and salted." Weber.
" cittern-head] Equivalent to — ugly fellow, in allusion to the grotesquely carved heads with which citterns (i. e. guitars, see note, vol. iii. 68) were frequently decorated.
" %] Both the folios " the ".
* cut] Weber chose to print " kick " !! r chain] See note, p. 118.
'■ scurr\l] i. e. scour'd. So the first folio. — The second folio " seour'd ".
Sympson, at Seward's suggestion, printed " skirr'd " ; and so his successors.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 137
A horse-troop tlirougli aud through, Hkc swiit Dcsii-c, And seen poor rogues reth'e, all gore^ and gash'd Like bleeding shads.
Lucio. Bless us, sister Cliu'a, How desperately you talk ! What do you call this gun ? A dag ''?
Clara. I ^11 give 't thee ; a French petronel. You never saw my Barbaiy, the Infanta Bestow'd upon me, as yet, Lucio : Walk down, and see it.
Lucio. What, into the stable? Not I ; the jades will kick : the poor groom there Was almost spoil' d the other day.
Clara. Fie on thee ! Thou ^ilt scarce be a man before thy mother.
Lucio. When Avill you be a woman ?
Clara. Would I were none ! But Nature's priv}'^ seal assures me one.
Enter Alvarez with Bobadilla.
Alv. Thou anger'st me. Can strong habitual custom Work with such magic on the mind and manners. In spite of sex and natiu'e ? Find out, sirrah, Some skilful fighter.
Bob. Yes, sir.
Alv. I will rectify And redeem cither's proper inclination. Or bray 'em in a mortar, and new-mould 'em.
Bob. Beheve yom- eyes, sii' : I tell you, we wash an Ethiop. U^^t-
Clara. I strike it, for ten ducats.
Alv. How now, Clara, Yom' breeches on still ? And your petticoat Not yet off, Lucio ? art thou not gelt ? Or did the cold Muscovite beget thee, That lay here lieger in the last great frost '*?
* rf«//] " i. e. pistol." Weber.
•> Or did the cold MvMOvite heyet thee.
That lay here Ucrjer in the last 'jreat frost !\ Sympsou silently printed " Or
138 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
Art not thou, Clara, turn'd a mau indeed
Beneath the girdle ? and a woman thou ?
I ^11 have you search'd ; by [Heaven] ', I strongly doubt !
We must have these things mended. Come, go in. [Exit.
Enter Vitelli with Bobadilla.
Bob. With Lucio, say you ? there is '' for you.
Vit. And there is for thee. [Gives money.
Bob. I thank you. You have now bought a Httle advice of me : if you chance to have conference with that lady there, be very civil, or look to your head ! she has ten nails, and you have but two eyes : if any foolish hot motions should chance to rise in the horizon, under your equinoctial there, qualify it as well as you can, for I fear the elevation of your pole will not agree with the horoscope of her constitution : she is Bell the Dragon ^, I assure you. [Exit.
Vit. Are you the Lucio, sir, that savM Vitelli ?
Lucio. Not I, indeed, sir; I did never brabble ^: There walks that Lucio metamorphosed.
Vit. Do you mock me? [Exit Itvcio.
Clara. No, he does not : I am that Supposed Lucio that was, but Clara That is, and daughter unto Alvarez.
Vit. Amazement daunts me. Would my life were riddles. So you were still my fair expositor ! Protected by a lady from my death ?
did not the ", &c. : lieyer, i . e. resident ambassador. " Russian ambassadors were at King James's court in 1617, and in 1G22 ; and as Sir John Finett, in his Philoxenis, mentions, that in the latter year, on account of the great frost they [the ambassador] did not stir from theii- [his] house till June [April], the text probably alludes to the latter embassy, and this fixes the date of the play." Weber, Finett's words are; "The nine and twentieth of Aprill [1622], the Russian Ambassador having not stirred from his home all the Whiter, and bemg desu'ous to take the fresh Aire, was by me accompanied to Theobalds," &c. Philoxenis, p. 103.
■^ [Heaveii] A break here in both the fohos.
■' there is'] i. e. there he is. — The modern editors silently print 'Hhere he's" and " there he is " : but compare the next speech.
« Bell the Dragon] Sympson silently printed " Bell and the Dragon " ; and so his successors.
' brabble] i. e. brawl.
SCENE ii.J LOVE'S CURE. 139
Oh, 1 shall wear an everlasting blush
Upon my cheek from this discovery !
Oh, you, the fairest soldier I e'er saAv,
Each of whose eyes, like a bright })eamy shield,
Conquers, without blows, the contentious
Clara. Sir, guard yourself; you are in your enemy's house, iVnd may be inim''d.
Vit. 'Tis impossible : Foe, nor oppressing odds, dares prove ViteUi, If Clara side him, and will call him friend. 1 woidd the difference of om' bloods were such As might with any shift be ^vip'd away ! Or woidd to Heaven yoiu'self were all your name ; That, ha\-ing lost blood by you, I might hope To raise blood from you ! But my black-wing'd fate Hovers aversely over that fond hope ; And he, whose tongue thus gratifies ' the daughter And sister of his enemy, wears a sword To rip the father and the brother up : Thus you, that sav'd this wretched life of mine. Have savM it to the ruin of your friends. That my affections should promiscuously Dart love and hate at once, both worthily ! Pray, let me kiss your hand.
Cfara. You are treacherous. And come to do me miscliief.
Vit. Speak on still : Yom- words are falser, fail-, than my intents. And each sweet accent far more treacherous ; for, Though you speak ill of me, you speak so well I do desire to hear you.
Clara. Pray, be gone ; Or kill me, if you please.
Vit. Oh, neither can I ! For to be gone were to destroy my life ; And to kill you were to destroy my soul. I am in loA^e ; yet must not be in love :
« gratifies] "i. c makes acknowledgments, returns thanks to." IIkatii (jV*'.
140 LOVE'S CURE. [act ii.
I '11 get aAvay apace. Yet, valiant lady, Such gratitude to honour I do owe, And such obedience to your memory. That, if you will bestow something, that I May wear about me, it shall l)ind all wrath. My most inveterate wrath, from all attempts, Till you and I meet next.
Clara. A favour, sir ? Why, I will give you good counsel.
Vit, That already You have bestowed ; — a ribbon or a glove-
Clara. Nay, those are tokens for a waiting-maid To trim the butler with.
Vit. Youi' feather
Clara. Fie ! The wenches give them to then " serving-men.
Vit. That little ring
Clara. 'Twill hold you but by the finger ; And I would have you faster.
Vit. Any thing That I may wear, and but remember you.
Clara. This smile; my good opinion; or myself; But that, it seems, you hke not.
Vit. Yes ; so well. When any smiles, I Avill remember yours ; Your good opinion shall in weight poise me Against a thousand ill ; lastly, yourself My curious eye now figures in my heart, Where I will wear you till the table '' break. So, whitest angels guard you !
Clara. Stay, su' : I Have fitly thought to give what you as fitly May not disdain to wear.
Vit. What's that?
Clara. This sword. — I never heard a man speak till this horn : '
^ their} Sympson silently printed " the " ; and so his successors. '' the table] " i. e. the picture, or rather, the board on which it is painted — *
my heart." Weber (the note shortened) .
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE, Ul
His words are goldeu chains; and now, I fear,
The lioness hath met a tamer here :
Fie, how this tongue chimes'! [Aside.'] — Wliat was I saying?
Oh, this favom* I bequeathe you, which I tie
[Ties on the sivord. In a love-knot, fast, ne'er to hurt my friends ; Yet be it fortunate 'gainst all your foes (For I have neither friend nor foe, but yom-s) As e'er it was to me ! I have kept it long, And value it, next my virginity. But, good, return it ; for I now remember I vow'd, who purchas'd it should have me too.
Vit. Would that were possible ! but, alas, it is not ! Yet this assui'e yourself, most honoui''d Clara, I 'U not infringe an article of breath My vow hath offer'd to you ; nor fr'om this part Whilst it hath edge or point, or I a heart. [Exit.
Clara. Oh, leave me li^dug ! — AATiat ncAV exercise Is crept into my breast, that blancheth clean jNIy former nature ? I begin to find I am a woman, and must learn to fight A softer sweeter battle than with swords. I am sick metliinks ; but the disease I feel Pleaseth, and punisheth. I warrant, love Is very like this, that folks talk of so ; I skill not J what it is, yet sm^e even here, Even in my heart, I sensibly perceive It glows, and riseth like a glimmering flame. But know not yet the essence on 't, nor name. [Exit.
' this tMujue chimes'] The cori'ection of Heath (MS. Notes), who explains it, "i. e. her own tongue, which had just uttered two chiminy or rhyming verses." — Both the fohos " his tongue chimes''' ; and so the modern editors.
J I skill not] — Which Weber wrongly explains — I care not, — means — I know not. "Skill, to know, to understand." Brockett's Oloss. of North Country Words.
142 LOVE'S CURE. [act iii.
ACT III. SCENE I. — A room in the house of the Algiiazier.
Enter Malroda and Alguazier.
Malr. He must not ! nor he shall not ! who shall let i him ? You^ politic Diego ^, with your face of wisdom ! Don Blirt ! the [pox up] on ' your aphorisms, Your grave and sage ale-physiognomy ! Do not I know thee for the Alguazier, Whose dunghill all the parish scavengers Could never rid? Thou comedy to men, Whose serious folly is a butt for all To shoot their wits at ; whilst thou hast not wit, Nor heart, to answer, or be angry !
Alg. Lady
Malr. Peace, peace, you rotten rogue, supported by A staff of rottener office ! Dare you check Any's accesses that I will allow ? Piorato is my friend, and visits me In lawful sort, to espouse me as his wife ; And who will cross, or shall, our interviews ? You know me, sirrah, for no chambermaid, That cast her belly and her waistcoat '" lately. Thou think'st thy constableship is much : not so ; I am ten offices to thee ; ay, thy house. Thy house and office is maintain^ by me,
Alg. My house-of-ofiice is maintained i' the garden. Go to ! I know you, and I have conniv'd ; You ^re a delinquent, but I have connived ;
J lef^ "i. e. hinder." Weber.
'' Diego~\ An allusion — as before, voL iii. 274, vol. vii. 34 — to a person who was in very bad odour. He is again alluded to at p. 162 of the present comedy, and more particularly in the next play, act ii. so. 2.
' tJie [pox up]on] So the Editors of 1778 and Weber.
™ her waistcoaf] As a low strumpet : see note, vol. i. ,39.
SCENE I.] LOVE'S CURE. N3
A poison, though not in the third degree"; I can say, black 's yonr eye, though it be grey ; I have conniv'd at this yonr friend and yon : But Avliat is got by this connivency ? I like his feature " well ; a proper man, Of good discourse, fine conversation, Valiant, and a great carrier of the business. Sweet-breasted p as the nightingale or thrush : Yet I must tell yon, you forget yoiu'self ; My lord Vitelli^s love, and maintenance. Deserves no other Jack i' the box but he. MTiat though he gathered first the golden fniit, And blew your pigs-coat up into a blister. When 3^on did wait at court upon his mother. Has he "not well proAided for the barni? Beside, what profit reap I by the other? If you Avill have me serve your pleasure, lady, Your pleasure must accommodate my service ; As good be virtuous and poor, as not Thrive by my knavery : all the world would be Good, prospered goodness like to villany. I am the king's A-icegerent by my place ; His right lieutenant in mine own precinct.
MaJr. Thou art a right rascal in all men's precincts :
» Go to I I know you, cmd I have cormiv'd ;
You ^re a delinquent, iut I have conniv'd ;
A poison, though not in the third degree'^ Both the folios have ;
" Go too, I know you, and I have contrived ;
Y' are a delin([ucnt, but 1 have contrived
A poyson, though not in the thu'd degi-ee ;"
and so the modem editors. — " The reading of the foHos," observes Heath, " is
stark nonsense. What had the Alguazier contrived? and particulai'ly, what
poison had he contrived ? " and, after gi\ing the excellent emendation which I
have adopted, he explains it, " You are a deluiquent, you ai-e a poison, yet 1
have connived at all this ", adding, " the correction is confirmed by the next
line but one,
' I have conniv'd at this your friend and you.'
Every one knows that connivancy at offences for the sake of a bribe is one of the grand soiu'ces of a coi'rui>t officer's profits ; and there is humour in tho Alguazier's repeatuig so often his connivancy." MS. Notes.
® feattire] SjTnpson's correction. — Both tlie folios " feather " .
P Sweet-breasted] i. e. sweet-voiced : see note, vol. viii. 54.
1 barn] — Or baiiii — i. e. child.
144 LOVE'S CURE. [act in.
Yet now, my pair of twins, of fool and knave. Look, we are friends ; there 's gold for thee : admit AVhom I will have, and keep it from my don. And I will make thee richer than thou art wise : Thou shalt be my bawd and my officer ; Thy children shall eat still, my good night-owl. And thy old wife sell andirons to the court. Be countenance by the dons, and wear a hood. Nay, keep my garden-house 'i ; I '11 call her mother, Thee father, my good poisonous red-hair'd dill ', And gold shall daily be thy sacrifice. Wrought from a fertile island of mine own, Which I will offer, like an Indian queen.
Alff. And I will be thy devil, thou my flesh. With which I '11 catch the world.
Malr. Fill some tobacco. And bring it in. If Piorato come Before my don, admit him ; if my don Before my love, conduct him, my dear devil.
Alg. I will, my dear flesh. [_Exit Malroda.
First come, first served : well said ! — Oh, equal' Heaven, how wiselj^ thou disposest Thy several gifts ! One 's born a great rich fool, For the subordinate knave to work upon ; Another 's poor, with wit's addition. Which, well or ill us'd, builds a li^dng up, — And that too from the sire oft descends ; Only fair \drtue by traduction Never succeeds *, and seldom meets success : What have I, then, to do with 't ? My free will. Left me by Heaven, makes me or good or ill. Now, since vice gets more in this \icious world Than piety, and my stars' confluence
1 garclen-house'\ See note, vol. i. 32.
■■ dill\ Silently altered by Sympson to "deel" ; and so the Editors of 1778 ; Weber printed " devil" (and, perhaps, rightly ; see what follows in the text). — But qy. « drill " ? « The Drill (beast), Satyrus Indkus." Coles's Diet. "Drill, a Baboon, or over-gro\vn Ape." Kersey's Diet.
s eqt(.al] i. e. just.
t Never succeeds] " i. e. never follows by succession." Ed. 1778.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 145
Enforce my disposition to affect
Gain and tlie name of rich, let who will practise
War, and grow that way great ; religious,
And that way good. My chief felicity
Is wealth, the nurse of sensuality :
And he that mainly labours to be rich,
Must scratch great scabs, and claw a strumpet's itch.
[Exif.
SCENE II. — A street before the house of the Alguazier
Enter Piorato and Bobadilla.
P'lo. To say, sii-, I wiU wait upon your lord. Were not to understand mj^self.
Bob. To say, sir. You will do any thing but wait upon him. Were not to understand my lord.
Pio. I '11 meet him Some lialf-hom* hence, and doubt not but to render His son a man again : the cure is easy ; I have done divers.
Bob. Women do you mean, sii"?
Pio. Cures I do mean, sir. Be there but one spark Of fii'e remaining in him unextinct. With my discourse I '11 blow it to a flame. And with my practice into action. I have had one so full of childish fear. And womanish-hearted, sent to my ad\ice. He dm'st not di'aw a knife to cut his meat.
Bob . And how, sir, did you help him ?
Pio. Sir, I kept him Seven days in a dark room by candle-light, A plenteous table, spread with all good meats, Before his eyes, a case of keen broad knives Upon the board, and he so watch'd he might not Touch the least modicum, unless he cut it : And thus I brought him first to draw a knife.
Bob. Good!
VOL. IX. L
146 LOVE'S CURE. [act hi.
Pio. Then for ten days did I diet him Only with burnt pork, sir, and gammons of bacon ; A pill of caviary now and then, Wliich breeds clioler adust, you know
Bob. 'Tistrue.
Pio. And, to purge phlegmatic humour and cold crudities, In all that time he di'ank me aqua-fortis, And nothing else but
Bob. Aqua-vitce, signior ; For aqua-fortis poisons.
Pio. Aqua-fortis, I say again : what 's one man's poison, signior. Is another's meat or drink.
Bob. Your patience, sir ; By your good patience, h'ad a huge cold stomach.
Pio. I fir'd it, and gave him then three sweats In the Artillery-yard, tliree drilling days : And now he 'U shoot a gun, and draw a sword. And fight, with any man in Christendom.
Bob. A receipt for a coward ! I 'U be bold, sir. To write your good prescription,
Pio. Sir, hereafter You shall, and underneath it put probatum. Is your chain right "?
Bob. It is both right and just, sii' ; For, though I am a steward, I did get it With no man's wrong.
Pio. You are witty.
Bob. So, so. Could you not ciu'e one, sir, of being too rash And over-daring ? — there now 's my disease — Fool-hardy, as they say ? for that in sooth I am.
Pio. Most easily.
Bob. How ?
Pio. To make you drunk, sir, With smaU beer once a-day, and beat you twice,
" Is your cJuiin riffJtt] See note, p. 118: " r/r//(<, i. e. real gold." Webek.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 117
Till you be bmis'd all over ; if that help not, Knock out youi' brains.
Bob. This is strong physic, signior, And never will agree with my weak body : I find the medicine worse than the malady, And therefore will remain fool-hardy still. You '11 come, sir ?
Pio. As I am a gentleman.
Bob. A man o' the sword shoidd never break his word.
Pio. I 'U overtake you : I have only, sir, A complimental Aasitatioi To offer to a mistress lodg'd here by.
Bob. A gentlewoman ?
Pio. Yes, sir.
Bob. Fair and comely ?
Pio. Oh, sir, the paragon, the nonpareil Of ScAiUe, the most wealthy mine of Spain For beauty and perfection.
Bob. Say you so ? Might not a man entreat a coiu'tesy, To walk along with you, signior, to peruse This dainty mine, though not to dig in 'i, signior ? Hauh — I hope you '11 not deny me, being a stranger : Though I am steward, I am flesh and blood. And frail as other men.
Pio. Sir, blow voiu* nose ! I dare not, for the world : no ; she is kept By a great don, Vitclli.
Bob. How !
Pio. 'Tis true.
Bob. See, things will veer about ! This Don Vitelli Am I to seek now, to deliver letters From my young mistress Clai'a ; and, I tell you, Under the rose, (because you are a stranger And my [e] special friend,) I doubt there is A little foolish love betwixt the parties, Unknown unto my lord.
Pio. Happy discovery ! My fruit begins to ripen [Aside] . — Hark }"ou, sir :
L 2
148 LOVES' CURE. [act ni.
I would not wish you now to give those letters ; But homCj and ope this to Madonna Clara^ Which when I come I'll justify, and relate More amply and particularly.
Bob. I approve Your counsel, and will practise it : beso las manos. — Here 's two chewres chewr'd '' : when Wisdom is employ'd, 'Tis ever thus [_Aside\ . — Your more acquaintance, signior ! I say not better, lest you think I thought not Yours good enough.
Pio. Your servant, excellent steward !
[EoCit BOBADILLA.
Woidd all the dons in Spain had no more brains ! Here comes the Alguazier.
Enter Alguazier.
Dieu vous garde, monsieur ! Is my cuz stirring yet ?
Alg. Your cuz, good cousin ! A whore is like a fool, a-kin to all The gallants in the town. Your cuz, good signior. Is gone abroad, sir, with her other cousin. My lord Vitelli ; since when there hath been Some dozen cousins here to inquire for her.
Pio. She 's greatly allied, sir.
Alg. Marry, is she, sir; Come of a lusty kindred. The truth is, I must connive no more ; no more admittance Must I consent to : my good lord has thi'eaten'd me. And you must pardon.
Pio. Out upon thee, man ! Turn honest in thine age ? one foot i' the grave ? Thou shalt not wrong thyself so for a million. Look, thou three-headed Cerberus (for wit
" Here 's tioo chewres c/iewr'cZ] " i. e. here are two businesses despatched." Sympson. Chewre is a corrupt form of char or chare, a turn of work, a job. The expression in the text is used by very early \vi'iters : so in J IVe^o and Pleasaunt enterlude intitidecl the Mariage of Witte and Science, n. d., " This chayer is chared.'' Sig. D 4.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 1 19
I mean), here is one sop, and two, and three ;
For every chop a bit. [Gives money.
Alg. Ay, marry, sir ! Well, the poor heart loves you but too well": We have been talking on you, faith, this hour, Wliere, what I said — Go to ! she loves 3'our valour ; Oh, and youi' music most abominably ! She is witliin, su", and alone.
[Pro R A TO goes to the other side of him. ^Tiat mean vou?
Pio. That is your sergeant's side, I take it, sir : Now, I endure your constable's much better ; There is less danger in 't ; for one, you know, Is a tame hai'mless monster in the Hght, The sergeant, salvage " both by day and night.
Alg. I '11 call her to you for that.
Pio. No, 1 ^vill charm her >'.
Alg. She 's come.
Enter Malroda.
Pio. My spu'it ! Malr. Oh, my sweet ! Leap hearts to Ups, and in our kisses meet ! Pio. [sings']
Tm'n, turn thy beauteous face away :
How pale and sickly looks the day, In emulation of thy brighter beams !
Oh, envious light, fly, fly, begone !
Come, night, and piece two breasts as one ! When what love does we will repeat iu dreams.
Yet, thy eyes open, who can day hence fright ?
Let but theu- lids fall, and it ^vill be night.
Alg. Well, I will leave you to your fortitude, And you to temperance. Ah, ye pretty pair ! 'Twere sin to sunder you. Lovers being alone
* hut too well] Sympson silently prmted " but too too wtll " ; and so probably the author wrote.
* salvciffc] Is the old form of " savage," but that Piorato uses it " aflectedly " (as Weber asserts) is not so certain.
" / will charm her] Qy. Ought not Piorato's song to follow iinuiediatciy after this speech \
150 LOVE'S CURE. [act in.
Make one of two, and day and night all one.
But fall not out, I charge you, keep the peace ;
You know my place else. [Exit.
Malr. No, you will not marry; You are a courtier, and can sing, my love. And want no mistresses : bvit yet I care not ; I '11 love you still, and when I am dead for you, Then you'll believe my truth.
Pio. You kill me, fair : It is my lesson that you speak. Have I In any circumstance deserv'd this doubt ? I am not Uke your false and perjur'd don, That here maintains you, and has vow'd his faith, And yet attempts in way of marriage A lady not far off. Malr. How 's that ? Pio. 'Tis so : And therefore, mistress, now the time is come You may demand his promise ; and I swear To marry you with speed. Malr. And, with that gold
Which Don VitelU gives, you'll walk some voyage,
And leave me to my trade ; and laugh, and brag
How you o'er-reach'd a whore, and gull'd a lord. Pio. You anger me extremely : fare you well.
What should I say to be believ'd ? Expose me
To any hazard ; or, like jealous Juno,
The incensed step-mother of Hercules,
Design me labours most impossible ',
I '11 do 'em, or die in 'em ; so at last
You will believe me.
* labours most impossible] " Sympson wishes to weaken the expression by reading — ' labours 'most (i. e. almost) impossible '. But the present reading is right, and a bold poetical mode of expression used by Shakespeare as well as by our authors. In Much Ado about Nothiny, Beatrice says that Benedict amused himself in devising impossible slanders : in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Ford says that he would search for Falstaff in impossible places : and in Jonson's Sejamis, Silius accuses Aper of malicious and manifold applying, foul arresting, and impossible construction." Mason.
SCENE III.] LOVE'S CURE. \r,l
MaJr. Come ; avc are friends ; 1 do : I am thine ; walk in. My lord has sent rac outsides, But thou shalt have 'cm ; the colours are too sad^^.
Pio. Faithj mistress, T want clothes indeed.
Malr. I have Some gold, too, for my servant.
Pio. And 1 have A better metal for my mistress. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — A room in the same.
Enter, from opposite sides, Vitelli and Alguazier.
Alff. Undone ! — Wit, now or never help me ! — My master! He will cut my throat ; I am a dead constable ! And he ^11 not be hang'd neither ; there ^s the grief. —
[Aside. The party, sii', is here
Fit. What?
Alg. He was here, — I cry your lordship mercy, — but I rattled him ; I told him here was no companions For such debosh'd •' and poor-con ditionVl fellows ; I bid him venture not so desperately The cropping of his ears, slitting his nose. Or being gelt.
Vit. 'Tw'as well done.
Afff. Please your honoui-, I told him there were stews ; and then at last Swore three or four great oaths she was rcmov'd. Which I did think I might in conscience. Being for your lordship.
Vit. What became of him ?
Alff. Faith, sir, he went away Avith a flea in 's car. Like a poor cur, clapping his trindle tail *■' Betwixt his legs. — A chi ha, a chi ha, a chi ha ! — Now luck !
[Aside.
* 5«(/] "i. c. sombre, dai'k." Weber.
b dcbosh''d] i.e. debauched. So the first foho.— The second folio " deba\ichM."
" trbuUc tail] Properly trundle tail,— i. e. roiiixl, curly tail.
152 LOVE'S CURE. [act iii.
Enter Malroda and Piorato.
Malr. 'Tis lie; do as I told tliee ; bless thee, sigiiior ! — Oh, my dear lord !
ViL Malroda ! what, alone ?
Malr. She never is alone that is accompanied With noble thoughts, my lord ; and mine are such, Being only of your lordship.
Vit. Pretty lass!
Malr. Oh, my good lord, my picture 's done ; but, faith, It is not like. Nay, this way, sir ; the light Strikes best upon it here.
[JVliile she shews Vitelli the picture, Piorato steals to the door.
Pio. Excellent wench ! [Aside, and then exit.
Alg. I am glad the danger 's over. [Aside, and then exit.
Vit. ^Tis wondrous like. But that Art cannot counterfeit what Nature Could make but once.
Malr. All ^s clear : another tune You must hear from me now [Aside'] . — Vitelli, thou ^'t A most perfidious and a perjiir'd man. As ever did usm-p nobility.
Vit. What meanest thou, Mai ?
Malr. Leave your betraying smiles, And change the tunes of your enticing tongue To penitential prayers ; for I am great. In labour even, with anger ; big with child Of woman^s rage, bigger than when my womb Was pregnant by thee. Go, seducer, fly Out of the world ; let me the last wretch be Dishonoured by thee : touch me not ; I loathe My very heart, because thou lay'st there long. A woman ^s well help'd up, that 's confident In e'er a glittering outside on '' you all ! Would I had honestly been match'd to some Poor country swain, ere known the vanity Of court ! peace then had been my portion,
^ o>i] i. e. of.— The modern editors silently print " of."
SCENE in. J LOVE'S CURE. 153
Nor had been*^ cozen^l by an hour's pomp, To be a whore unto my dying day.
ViL Oh, The uncomfortable ways such women have ! Their different speech and meaning, no assurance In what they say or do ; dissemblers Even in their prayers, as if the weeping Greek Tliat fiatter'd Troy a-fire had been their Adam ; Liars, as if theii' mother had been made Only of all the falsehood of the man Disposed into that rib ! Do I know this. And more ; nay, all that can concern this sex. With the true end of my creation ? Can I with rational discourse sometimes Advance my spirit into Heaven, before ^T has shook hands with my body, and yet blindly Suffer my filthy flesh to master it. With sight of such fair frail beguiling objects ? When I am absent, easily I resolve Ne'er more to entertain those strong desires That triumph o'er me, even to actual sin ; Yet when I meet again those sorcerer's eyes, Their beams my hardest resolutions tliaAv, As if that cakes of ice and July met ; And her sighs, powerfid as the Adolent North, Like a light feather twirl me round about. And leave me in mine own low state again. — [Aside.
What ail'st thou ? prithee, weep not. Oh, those tears. If they Avere true and rightly spent, would raise A flowery spring i' the midst of January ; Celestial ministers with crystal cups Would stoop to save 'em for immortal tb'ink ! But from'' this passion : Avhy all this?
Malr. Do you ask ? You are marrying : having made me unfit
"= had hccn] Heath {MS. Noks) would read "had I bcoi" : but we find many examples of an ellipsis like the present.
^ from] i. c. tui-n from, — have done witli. — The modern editors print " Hut from (his poision — ivhy all this?"
154 LOVE'S CURE. [act iii.
For any man^ you leave me fit for all : Porters must be my burdens now^ to live ; And, fitting me yoiu'self for carts and beadles, You leave me to ^em : and avIio, of all the world, But the virago, your great arch-foe^s daughter ? But on ! I care not this poor rush^'! ■'twill breed An excellent comedy ; ha ! ha ! 't makes me laugh ; I cannot choose. The best is, some report It is a match for fear, not love, o' your side.
Vit. Why, how the de\il knows she that I saw This lady ? are all whores piec'd with some witch ? I will be merry [Aside] . — Faith, 'tis true, sweetheart, I am to marry.
Malr. Are you ? you base lord ! By [Heaven] *\ I '11 pistol thee.
Vit. A roaring whore ! — [Aside.
Take heed : there 's a correction-house hard by. You ha' learn'd this o' your sAvordman, that I warn'd you of. Your fencers and your drunkards. But whereas You upbraid me with oaths, why, 1 must tell you I ne'er promis'd you marriage, nor have vow'd. But said I lov'd- you, long as you remain'd The woman I expected, or you swore : And how you have fail'd of that, sweetheart, you know. You fain would shew your power : but, fare you well ; I '11 keep no more faith with an infidel.
Malr. Nor I my bosom for a Turk. Do you hear? Go ; and the devil take me, if ever I see you more ! I was too true.
Vit. Come ; pish ! That devil take the falsest of us two !
Malr. Amen !
Vit. You are an ill clerk, and curse j^ourself : Madness transports you. I confess, I drew you Unto my will ; but you must knoM', that must not
f this poor 7'ush] Which, we may suppose, she takes up from the floor, — rooms being formerly (before the introduction of carpets) strewed with rashes.
' [Ilcarcn] A break here in both the foHos.
K J lov'd] Sympson and the Editors of 1778 chose to print" I'd love" ; Weber, "/love."
SCENE IV.] LOVE'S CURE. 155
Make me dote on the luibit of my sin :
I will, to settle you to your content.
Be master of my word. And yet he lied,
That told you I ^^-as marrjing, l)ut in thought :
But will you slave me to your tATanny
So cruelly, I shall not dare to look
Or speak to other women ? make me not
Your smock's monopoly. Come, let 's be friends :
Look, here 's a jewel for thee : I will come
At night, and
Malr. What ? i' faith, you shall not, sii\
Vit. Faith and troth, and verily, but I will.
Malr. Half-drunk, to make a noise and rail ?
Vit. No, no ; Sober, and dieted for the nonce ~. I am thine : I have won the day.
Malr. The night, though, shall be mine.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE IV. — A room in the house of Alvarez.
Enter Clara and Bobadilla.
Clara. What said he, sin'ah ?
Bob. Little, or nothing. Faith, I saw him not. Nor mil not : he doth love a strumpet, mistress, Nay, keeps her spitefully, under the constable's nose : It shall be justified by the gentleman. Your brother's master, that is now within A-practising. There arc your letters [Gives letters] : come, You shall not cast yourself away, while I Ua c ; Nor will I venture my right-worshipful place In such a business. Here 's 3'our mother, — down'', — And he that loves you; another-gatcs fellow, i-wis'. If you had any gi'ace
Clara. AVell, rogue ! [Sits, and works.
f for the nonce] i. c. for the occasion. *" doion] i. e. sit down to your Avork.
■ i-wis} i. 0. truly, certainly. Heath's correction (MS. Notes).— I'oili the folios " 1 wish " ; and so the modem editors.
156 LOVE'S CURE. [act in.
Bob. I 'U in, To see Don Lucio manage : he will make A pretty piece of fiesli, I promise you ; He does already handle his weapon finely. \_Exit.
Enter Eugenia and Saavedra.
Eug. She knows your love, sir, and the fuU allowance Her father and myself approve it with ; And I must tell you, I much hope it hath Wrought some impression, by her alteration : She sighs, and says forsooth, and cries heigh-ho ! She 'U take ill words o^ the steward and the servants. Yet answer affably and modestly ; Things, sir, not usual with her. There she is ; Change some few words.
Saav. Madam, I am bound to you. — How now, fau' mistress ? working ?
Clara. Yes, forsooth ; Learning to live another day.
Saav. That needs not.
Clara. No, forsooth ? by my truly, but it does ; We know not what we may come to.
Eug. 'Tis strange.
Saav. Come, I ha^ begg'd leave for you to play.
Clara. Forsooth, 'Tis ill for a fair lady to be idle.
Saav. She had better be weU busied, I know that. Turtle, methinks you mourn : shall I sit by you ?
Clara. If you be weary, sir, you had best be gone : I work not a true stitch, now you ^re my mate.
Saav. If I be so, I must do more than side you.
Clara. Even what you will, but tread me.
Saav. Shall we biU ?
Clara. Oh, no, forsooth?
Saav. Being so fair, my Clara, Why do you delight in black work ?
Clara. Oh, white sir. The fairest ladies like the blackest men :
SCENE IV.] LOVE'S CURE. 157
I ever lov'd the colour ; all black tliinj^s Are least subject to change.
Saav. TMiy, I do love A black thing too ; and the most beauteous faces Have oftenest of them, as the blackest eyes, Jet-arched brows, such hair. I '11 kiss your hand.
Clara. 'Twill hinder me my work, sir ; and my mother Will chide me, if I do not do my task.
Saav. Yom* mother, nor your father, shall chide. You Might have a prettier task, woidd you be rul'd. And look with open eyes.
Clara. I stare upon you. And broadly see you ; a wondrous proper man ! Yet 'twere a greater task for me to love you. Than I shall ever work, sir, in seven year. — [Pox] J o' this stitching ! I had rather feel Two, than sew one. This rogue has given me a stitch Clean 'cross my heart [Aside] . — Good faith, sir, I shall prick you.
Saav. In gooder faith, I woidd prick you again.
Clara. Now you grow troublesome : pish, the man is foohsh !
Saav. Pray, wear these trifles.
Clara. Neither you, nor trifles : You are a trifle ; wear yom'self, sir, out. And here no more trifle the time away.
Saav. Come, you 're deceiv'd in me ; I will not wake. Nor fast, nor die for you.
Clara. Goose, be not you deceived : I cannot like, nor love, nor live with you. Nor fast, nor watch, nor pray for you.
Eug. Her old fit.
Saav. Sm*e, this is not the way [Aside]. — Nay, I will break Yom' melancholy
J [Pox] A break here in both the foHos, which the Editors of 1778 and Weber filled up with "Plague", though, in an earlier speech of Clara (p. \'.U, last lino) they suppUed " Pox", — a word which was formerly (see, for uistauce, vol. iv. p. 445, 1. 10) not unusual in a lady's mouth.
158 LOVE'S CURE. [act iii.
Clara. I shall break your pate, then. Away, you sanguine scabbard !
Eug. Out upon thee ! Thou 'It break my heart, I am sui'e.
Saav. She 's not yet tame.
Enter Alvarez ; Piorato and Lucio, fencing; and Bobadilla.
Alv. On, sir ! put home ! or I shall goad you here With this old fox^ of mine, that will bite better. — Oh, the IjraA^e age is gone ! in my young days A chevalier would stock a needle's point ' Three times together. — Straight i' the hams ! Or shall I give you new garters ?
Bob. Faith, old master. There 's little hope ; the linen sure was dank He was begot in, he 's so faint and cold : Even send him to Toledo, there to study; For he will never fadge with"" these Toledos. — Bear you up your point there, pick his teeth ! Oh, base !
Pio. Fie, you are the most untoward scholar! Bear Your body gracefully ; what a posture 's there ! You lie too open-breasted.
Lucio. Oh !
Pio. You'd never Make a good statesman.
Lucio. Pray, no more ! I hope to breathe in peace, and therefore need not The practice of these dangerous qualities : I do not mean to live by 't, for I trust You'll leave me better able.
Alv. Not a button. — Eugenia, let 's go get us a new heir.
Eug. Ay, by my troth, your daughter 's as untoward.
*■ fox'] A familiar term for the old Euglish broad-sword, which we have had repeatedly before.
1 would stock a needle's point] " i. e. would hit it with a stoccado, a thrust of liis rapier." Mason. The meaning is — would mn his sword into the eye of a needle : to stock is— to thread.
"* fadye v.ith] See note, p. 134.
SCENE IV.] LOVE'S CURE. i:.9
Aiv. I will break thee bone by Ijomc, imd l);ike thee, Ere I'll ha' such a wooden sou to inliorit. — Take him a good kuock ; see how that will work.
Pio. NoAV for your life, sig-uior !
Lucio. Oh, alas, I am kill'd ! My eye is out ! look, father ! Zanelio ! [Pox],'" I '11 play the fool no more thus, that I will not.
Clara. 'Heart, ne'er a rogue in Spain shall wrong my lirother, "WTiilst I can hold a sword. [T/irusts at Piorato.
Pio. Hold, madam, madam !
AIv. Clara
Ettff. Daughter
Bob, Mistress
Pio. Bradamante"! Hold, hold, I pray !
Alv. The dcA-il 's in her, o' the other side, sure. — There 's gold for you. — They have chang'd what-ye-cairt's. Will no ciu'e help ? Well, I have one experiment. And, if that faU, I '11 hang him : then here 's" an end on 't. — Come you along with me ; and you, sir.
Bob. Now are you going to di'owning.
[Exeunt Alvarez, Eugenia, Lucio, and Bouadilla.
Saav. I '11 even along with ye ; she 's too great a lady For me, and would prove more than my match. \_Exit.
Clara. You 're he spoke of Vitelli to the steward ?
Pio. Yes; and, I thank you, you have beat me for't.
Clara. But are you sure you do not wrong him ?
Pio. Sm'e ! So sm-e that, if you please venture yoiu-self, I '11 shew you him and his cockatrice together. And you shall hear 'em talk.
Clara. Will you ? by [Heaven] i', sir, You shall endear me ever ; and I ask You mercy.
"• \_Pox'\ A break here in the first folio,
" Bradamante] One of Ariosto's heroines (already mentioned, vol. viii. .'{.(G). " here's] The modern editors silently print "there's" (Synijison an<l the Editors of 177fi omittinj; tlie preceding word, "t/nn "). f [Heaven] A break here iji both the folios.
160 LOVE'S CURE. [act hi.
Pio. You were somewhat boisterous.
Clara. There's gold to make you amends; and for this pains I ^11 gratify you further. I '11 but mask me^ And walk along with you. Faith, let 's make a night on 't.
[Exeunt.
SCENE \.— A street.
Enter Alguazier, Pachieco, Mendoza, Metaldi, and Lazarillo.
Alg. Come on, my brave water-spaniels; you that hunt ducks in the night, and hide more knavery under your gowns than your betters : observe my precepts, and edify by my doctrine. At yond corner will I set you : if drunkards molest the street, and fall to brabbling'', knock you down the malefactors, and take you up their cloaks and hats, and bring them to me; they are lawful prisoners, and must be ransomed ere they receive liberty. What else you are to execute upon occasion, you sufficiently know, and therefore I abbreviate my lecture.
Met. We are wise enough, and warm enough'".
Mend. Vice this night shall be apprehended.
Pack. The terror of rug-gowns shall be known, and our bills" discharge us of after-reckonings.
Laz. I will do any thing, so I may eat.
Pach. Lazarillo, we will spend no more : now we are grown worse, we will live better; let us follow our calling faithfully.
Alg. Away, then ! the commonwealth is om* mistress ; and who would sei-ve a common mistress, but to gain by her? [Exeunt.
1 hrabhling'] i. e. brawling.
' We are wise enourjh, and warm enough] See note, vol. iii. 64 ; and compare a passage in note, p. 21, 1. 26 of the present volume.
' lills'\ See note, vol. iii. 141 (used here with a quibble, of covu-se).
SCENE I.] LOVE'S CURE. Ml
ACT IV. SCENE I.— A street.
Enter Vitelli, Lamoral, Genevora, Anastro, ami two Pages with lights.
Lam. I pray you, see the masque, my lord.
Ana. Tis early night yet.
Gen. Oh, if it be so late, take me along ; I would not give advantage to ill tongues To tax my being here, without yom- presence To be my warrant. ^
Vit. You might spare this, sister, Knowing with whom I leave you ; one that is, By your allowance and his choice, your servant. And, may my counsel and persuasion work it, Yom' husband speedily. — For your entertainment My thanks : I will not rob you of the means To do your mistress some acceptable service. In waiting on her to mj house.
Gen. My lord
Vit. As you respect me, without further trouble Retire, and taste those pleasures prepar'd for you. And leave me to my own ways.
Lam. Wlien you please, sir. [Ea!^eu7it, on one side, Lam., Gen., Anas., and Pages ; on the other, Vitelli.
SCENE II. — A room in the house of the Alguazier, ivith a
gallery.
Enter Malroda and Alguazier.
Malr. You '11 leave my chamber ?
Alg. Let us but biU once. My do^'e, my sparrow, and I, with my office. Will be thy slaves for ever.
Malr. Are you so hot ?
VOL. IX. M
162 LOVE'S CURE. [act iv.
Alg. But taste the difference of a man in place : You '11 find tliatj when authority pricks him forward. Your don, nor yet your Diego'', comes not near him, To do a lady right. No men pay dearer For their stoln sweets than we ; tlu'ee minutes' trading Affords to any sinner a protection For three years after; think on that. I burn : But one drop of your bounty !
Malr. Hence, you rogue ! Am I fit for you ? is 't not grace sufficient To have your staff a bolt to bar the door Where a don enters, but that you '11 presume To be his taster ?
Alg. Is no more respect *
Due to this rod of justice ?
Malr. Do you dispute ? Good doctor of the dungeon, not a word more ! [Pox] ^, if you do, my lord Vitelli knows it.
Alg. Why, I am big enough to answer him. Or any man.
Malr. 'Tis weU.
Vit. [within] Malroda !
Alg. How !
Malr. You know the voice ; and now crouch like a cur Ta'en worrying sheep : I now could have you gelded For a bawd rampant ; but, on this submission. For once I spare you.
Alg. I will be reveng'd. [Aside.
Enter Vitelli.
My honourable lord ! Vit. There 's for thy care. [Gives money.
Alg. I am mad, stark mad ! proud pagan ! scorn her host? I would I were but valiant enough to kick her ! I 'd wish no manhood else. [Aside.
Malr. What's that?
' nor yet your Diec/o'\ See note, p. 142. So both the folios. — Sympson jirinted " nor your Diego," stating in a note, most eri'oneously, that such is the reading of the first folio.
' [Pox] A break here in both the folios.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. l(>:i
Aly. I am gone. [E.cil.
Enter, above, PronATo and Claka.
Pio. You sec I have kept my word.
Clara. But in this object Hardly deserv'd my thanks.
Pio. Is there aught else You will command me ?
Clara. Only yoiu- sword, WTiich I must have. Nay, willingly : I yet know To force it, and to use it.
Pio. ^Tis yoiu's, lady. [Gives ]iis .s-^/'o/v/
Clara. I ask no other guard.
Pio. If so, I leave you. — And nowj if that the constable keep his word, A poorer man may chance to gull a lord.
\_Aside, and then exit above.
Malr. By this good [light] ", you shall not !
Vit. By this [Kglit], I must and will, Malroda ! AMiat do you make A stranger of me'' ?
Malr. I 'U be so to you, And you shall find it.
Vit. These are your old arts. To endear the game you know I come to hunt for ; ^Vhich I have borne too coldly.
" [light] Here, and in the next line, both the foHos have a break. I am by no means certain that the word which I have inserted is the true one.— The Editors of 1778 gave "kiss"; and so Weber : than which nothing could be more absurdly at variance \vith the context, Vitelli exclaiming immeiliatcly after, " What do you make a stranger of me ? " ^ What do you malt
A stranger of me?] i.e., for what, why do you make, &c. So before ;
" What shall I heap up
Long i-epetitions !" vol. v. 384.
" What do you make so dainty on 't !" vol. vi. 453.
" What .sliould 1 leave my state to pins and poking-sticks," &c. vol. vii. 3(il.
" WJtat dost thou think nic mad !" vol. viii. 80. The last of these passages is cited from the present edition in Churton's Littmry Register for AprU, 184.5, as an example of "such abominable ignorance of tlie old plu-aseology" on my part, as " was never before disi.laycd by any one und<-r- takuig the office of editor,"— the reviewer adding, that "What" is moi*eIy an exclamation, and that the proper pointing of tlie passage is, " Wiiat : dost tliou think me mad ?"
M 2
164 LOVE'S CURE. [act iv.
Malr. Do so still; For, if I heat you, hang me !
Vit. If you do not, I know who'll starve for^t. Why, thou shame of women. Whose folly or whose impudence is greater Is doubtful to determine ! this to me, That know thee for a whore ?
Malr. And made me one ; Remember that.
Vit. Why, should I but grow wise. And tie that bounty up, which nor discretion Nor honour can give way to, thou wouldst be A bawd ere twenty ; and, within a month, A barefoot, lousy, and diseased whore. And shift thy lodgings oftner than a rogue That ^s whipt from post to post.
Malr. Pish ! all our college Know you can rail well in this kind.
Clara. For me He never spake so well. [Aside.
Vit. I have maintain'd thee The envy of great fortunes ; made thee shine As if thy name were glorious ; stuck thee full Of jewels, as the firmiament of stars ; And in it made thee so remarkable. That it grew questionable whether Virtue poor. Or Vice so set forth as it is in thee. Were even by Modesty's self to be preferred : And am I thus repaid?
Malr. You are still my debtor : Can this, though true, be weigh'd with my lost honour, Much less my faith ? I have liv'd private to you. And but for you had ne'er known what lust was. Nor what the sorrow for 't.
Vit. 'Tis false. Malr. 'Tis true. But how return^ by you ? thy whole life being But one continu'd act of lust, and shipwreck Of women's chastities.
SCENE 11.] LOVE'S CURE. 165
Vit. But that I know That she that dares be damu'd dares any tiling, I should admii-e thy tempting mc : hut presume not On the power you think you hold o'er my aflcctions ; It will deceive j'^ou : yield, and presently, Or, by the inflamed blood M^hich thou must quench, I ^11 make a forcible entry !
Malr. Touch me not : You know I have a throat : [pox] "■', if you do, I will cry out a rape, or sheathe this here, Ere I '11 be kept, and us'd for julep-water. To allay the heat which luscious meats and wine. And not desire, hath rais'd.
Vit. A desperate devil ! My blood commands my reason : I must take Some milder way. [Asule.
Malr. I hope, dear don, I fit you : The night is mine, although the day was yours : You are not fasting now. This speeding trick (Which I would as a principle leave to all That make their maintenance out of their own Indies, As I do now) my good old mother taught me : " Daughter," quoth she, " contest not with yom* lover. His stomach being empty ; let wine heat him, And then you may command him": 'tis a sure one. His looks shew he is coming. [Aside.
Vit. Come, this needs not. Especially to me : you know Iioav dear I ever have esteem' d you
Clara. Lost again ! [Aside.
Vit. That any sigh " of yours hath power to change My strongest resolution ; and one tear Sufficient to command a pardon from me For any wrong from you, which all mankind Should kneel in vain for.
Malr. Pray you, pardon those That need your favour, or desire it.
' [pox] A break here iii both the foHos ; whicli the tditors of 177!l ami Weber filled up with "by Heaven." * sigh] Both the folios "sight".
166 LOVE'S CURE. [act iv.
Vit. Prithee, Be better tempered. I '11 pay, as a forfeit For my r^sh anger, this purse fiird with gold : Thou shalt have servants, gowns, attires ; what not ? Only continue mine.
Malr. 'Twas this I fish'd for. [Aside.
Vit. Look on me, and receive it.
Malr. Well, you know My gentle nature, and take pride to abuse it. You see a trifle pleases me : we are friends ; This kiss, and this, confirms it.
Clara. With my ruin ! [Aside.
Malr. I '11 have this diamond and this pearl.
Vit. They are yours.
Malr. But will you not, Avhen you have what you came for. Take them from me to-morrow ? 'tis a fashion Your " lords of late have us'd.
Vit. But I'llnotfoUow.
Clara. That any man at such a rate as this Should pay for his repentance ! [Aside.
Vit. Shall we to bed now ?
Malr. Instantly, sweet. Yet, now I think on 't better, There 's sometliing first that in a word or two I must acquaint you with.
Clara. Can I cry aim To thisy, against myself? I'll break this match, Or make it stronger with my blood. [Aside, and then exit above.
jRe-ewfer Alguazier, icith Piorato, Pachieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, and Lazarillo, and stand apart.
Alg. I am yours : A don's not privileg'd here more than yourself: Win her, and wear her.
Pio. Have you a priest ready ?
Alg. I have him for thee, lad. — And, when I have Married this scornful whore to this poor gallant,
" FoMJ'] Heath {MS. Notes) would read " You " ; but the alteration is not necessary
y cry aim
Tu this] i. e. give encouragement to this : see note, vol. vi. 305.
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. 167
She will make suit to me : there is ;i trick To bring a high-pric'd wench upon her knees. — For you, my fine neat harpies^ stretch your talons, And prove yourselves true uight-birds.
Pack. Take my word For me and all the rest.
Luz. If there be meat Or any banquet stirring, }^ou shall see How I '11 bestow myself.
Alg. When they are di'aAvn, Rush in upon 'em; all's fair prize you light on. I must away : yoiu' officer may give way To the knavery of his watch, but must not see it. You all know where to find me.
Met. There look for us. [Exit Alguazier.
Vit. Who's that?
Malr. My Piorato ! welcome, welcome ! Faith, had you not come wlien you did, my lord Had done I know not what to me.
Vit. I am gull'd ; First cheated of my jewels, and then laugh'd at ! — SiiTah, what make you here ?
Pio. A business brings me. More lawful than your own.
Vit. How 's that, you slave ?
Malr. He's such that would continue her a whore. Whom he would make a wife of.
Vit. I '11 tread upon [Draws his sword.
The face you dote on, strumpet !
Pack. Keep the peace there !
[Coming forward with the others.
Vit. A plot upon my life too ?
Enter Clara, belotc, ivith Piorato's sword.
Met. Down with him !
Clara. Shew \o\\y old valour, and learn from a woman : One eagle has a world of odds against A flight of daws, as these arc. [>>he heats them of.
168 LOVE'S CURE. [act iv.
Pio. Get you off; I '11 folloAv instantly.
Pack. Run for more help there !
[Exeunt all except Vitelli and Clara.
Vit. Loss of my gold and jewels^ and the wench too. Afflicts me not so much as the having Clara The witness of my weakness. [Aside.
Clara. He turns from me : And yet I may urge merit_, since his life Is made my second gift. [Aside.
Vit. May I ne'er prosper. If I know how to thank her ! [Aside.
Clara. Sir, your pardon For pressing thus, beyond a virgin's bounds, Upon your privacies ; and let my being Like to a man, as you are, be the excuse Of my soliciting that from you, which shall not Be granted on my part, although desir'd By any other. Sir, you understand me ; And 'twould shew nobly in you to prevent From me a farther boldness, which I must Proceed in, if you prove not merciful, Though with my loss of blushes and good name.
Vit. Madam, I know your will, and would be thankful. If it were possible I could affect The daughter of an enemy.
Clara. That fair false one. Whom with fond dotage you have long pursu'd, Had such a father ; she to whom you pay Dearer for your dishonour, than aU titles Ambitious men hunt for are worth.
Vit. 'Tis truth.
Clara. Yet, with her, as a friend, you still exchange Health for diseases, and, to yom' disgrace. Nourish the rivals to your present pleasures At your own charge ; us'd as a property To give a safe protection to her lust. Yet share in nothing but the shame of it.
Vit. Grant all this so, to take vou for a wife
SCENE II.] LOVE'S CURE. ICO
Were greater hazard ; for, sliould I otfeud you (As 'tis not easy still to please a woman), You arc of so great a spirit, that I must learn To wear your petticoat, for you will ha^e My breeches from me,
Clara. Rather from this horn* I here abjure all actions of a man. And will esteem it happiness from you To suffer like a woman. Loa^c, true love Hath made a search within me, and expell^l All but my natural softness, and made perfect That which my parents' care could not begin. I will she^t strength in nothing, but my duty And glad desire to please you, and in that Grow every day more able.
Vit. Could this be, What a brave race might I beget ! I find A kind of yielding ; and no reason why I should hold longer out : she 's young, and fair, And chaste, for sure ; but, with her leave, the devil Durst not attempt her [Aside] . — Madam, though you have A soldier's arm, youi' lips appear as if They were a lady's.
Clara. They dare, sii', from you Endure the trial.
Vit. [Kisses her'] Ha ! once more, I pray you. — The best I ever tasted ; and 'tis said I have proA^d many. 'Tis not safe, I fear. To ask the rest now. Well, I will leave whoring. And luck Heaven^ send me with her ! [Aside ^ — Worthiest
lady, I '11 wait upon you home, and ])y the way (If e'er I marry, as I '11 not forswear it) Tell you, you are my wife.
Clara. Which if you do, From me all mankind'"* women learn to woo ! [Exeunt.
« Hecaxn] The correction of Heath (MS. iWc«).— Both the luhos " herein" ; and so the modern editors.
' mankind] i. e. masculuie, man-hlie.
170 LOVE'S CURE, ' [act iv.
SCENE III.— .4 street.
Enter Alguazier, Pachieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, and Lazauillo.
Alg. A cloak ! good purchase'' : and rich hangers'! well : We'll share ten pistolets a-man.
Laz. Yet still I am monstrous hungry : covild you not deduct So much out of the gross sum as would purchase Eight loins of veal and some two dozen of capons ?
Pack. Oh^ strange proportion for five !
Laz. For five ! I have A legion in my stomach, that have kept Perpetual fast these ten years : for the capons, They are to me but as so many black-birds. May I but eat once, and be satisfied, Let the Fates call me, when my ship is fraught, And I shall hang in peace.
Alg. Steal well to-night, And thou shalt feed to-morrow. So ; now you arc Yourselves again, I '11 raise another watch To free you from suspicion : set on any You meet with boldly ; I '11 not be far off. To assist you and protect you. [Exit.
Met. Oh, brave ofiicer !
Pack. Would every ward had one but so well given, And we would watch, for rug, in gowns of velvet''!
Enter Alvarez, Lucid, and Bobadilla.
Mend. Stand close ; a prize !
Met. Satin and gold lace, lads !
Ah. Wliy dost thou hang upon me ?
Lucio. 'Tis so dark I dare not see my way : for Heaven-sake, father, Let us go home !
Bob. No, even here we '11 leave you. — Let 's run away from him, my lord.
Lucio. Oh, 'las !
^ purchase] i. e. booty. " hani/crs] Sec note, vol. iii. 3.0,
>• for rug, in (jowns of velvet] " i. e. in velvet gowns instead of rug gowns." Weber.
SCENE III. j LOVE'S CURE. I7I
• Alv. Thou hast made mc mad, and 1 will heat thee dead, Then bray thee in a mortar, and new-mould thee. But I will alter thee.
Bob. 'Twill never be : He has been three days practising to drink, Yet still he sips like to a waiting-woman, And looks as he were murdering of a fart Among wild Irish swaggerers.
Lucio. I have still Yoiu' good w^ord, Zancho. — Father
Alv. Milk-sop, cow^ard ! No house of mine receives thee ; I disclaim thee : Thy mother on her knees shall not entreat me Hereafter to acknowledge thee.
Lucio. Pray you, speak for me !
Bod. I would, but now I cannot with mine honour.
Alv. There 's only one course left that may redeem thee. Which is, to strike the next man that you meet ; And, if we chance to light upon a woman, Take her away, and use her like a man, Or I will cut thy hamstrings.
Pack. This makes for us.
Alv. What dost thou do now ?
Lucio. Sir, I am saying my prayers ; For, being to undertake what you would have me, I know I cannot live.
Enter Lamoral, Genevora, Anastro, mid Pages icit/i Uyhls.
Lam. Madam, I fear You '11 wish you had us'd your coach ; your brother's house Is yet far off.
Gen. The better, sir ; this walk Will help digestion after your great supper, Of which I have fed largely.
Alv. To your task ! Or else you know what follows.
Lucio. I am dying : Now% Lord have mercy on me ! — \\\ your fa\um', Sir, I must strike you.
Lam. For what cause?
1^2 LOVE'S CURE. Lact iv.
Lucio. I know not. And I must likewise talk with that young lady An hour in private.
Lam. What you must, is doubtful ; But I am certain, sir, I must beat you. [Strikes him.
Lucio. Help, help !
Alv. Not strike again ?
Lam. How! Alvarez!
Anas. This for my lord Vitelli's love !
[Strikes down Alvarez.
Pack. Break out ; And, like true thieves, make prey on either side. But seem to help the stronger «'.
Bob. Oh, my lord ! They have beat him on his knees.
Lucio. Though I want courage, I yet have a son's duty in me, and Compassion of a father's danger; that. That wholly now possesses me. [Rushes on them.
Alv. Lucio, This is beyond my hope.
Met. So; Lazarillo, Take up all, boy. Well done !
Pach. And now steal off Closely and cunningly.
Atias. How ! have I found you ? — Why, gentlemen, are you mad, to make yourselves A prey to rogues ?
Laz.*^ Woidd we were oflF !
Bob. Thieves, thieves !
Lam. Defer our own contention, and down with them !
[They attack Pack., Met., Mend., and Laz.
Lucio. I 'U make you sure !
Boh. Now he plays the de\dl.
Gen. This place is not for me. [Exit ivith Pages.
Lucio. I '11 follow her : Half of my penance is past o'er. [Aside, and then exit.
<i stronger'^ Both the folios " stranger."
" Laz.'] Both the folios " Lam." ; and so the modern editors.
sf^ENEiii.] LOVE'S CURE. 173
Re-enter, on one side, Alguazier, n-ilh Watclios ; entn\ on the other side, Asistente*, irho stands apart. All/. What noise, AMiat tumult's there? keep the king's peace, I charge you ! Pack. I am glad he's come yet. Alv. Oh, you keep good guard Upon the city, when men of our rank Are set upon in the streets !
Lam. The Asistente"^ Shall hear oft, be assur'd.
Anas. And, if he be That careful governor he is reported. You will smart for it.
Alg. Patience, good signiors : Let me survey the rascals. Oh, I know them. And thank you for them : they are pilfering rogues Of Andalusia, that have perus'd All prisons in Castile. I dare not trust The dungeon with them ; no, I '11 have them home To my own house.
PacJi. We had rather go to prison. Alg. Had you so, dog-bolts''? yes, I know you had : You there would use your cunning fingers on The simple locks, you would; but I'll prevent you.
Lam. My mistress lost ! good night. [Exit.
Bob. Yoiu' son's gone too; What should become of him ?
Alv. Come of him what will. Now he dares fight, I care not : I '11 to bed. — Look to your prisoners, Alguazier.
[Exeunt, on one side, Alvarez and Bobadilla; on the other, La moral and Anastro. Alg. All 's clear'd.
' Asistente] Means properly — as already remarked in a note on TIk Sjxinhfi Curate, vol. ■v'iii. 431,— the chief officer of justice at Seville. Throujjhout that comedy the word is Anglicised to Assistant, and is used as another tei-m fa- Judge. In the present play, the stage-directions of the fii-st folio have in>a- riably " Assistente" ; those of the second folio, in one place "Assistant", in another " Assistcnte " ; and the word is equivalent to — Govenior.
(f Asistente'^ The first folio "assistance": the second folio " a-ssistants ".
'' dog-bolts} See notes, vol. iii. 14f», vol. iv. \M.
174 LOVE'S CURP:. [act iv.
Droop not for one disaster : let ns liug^ And triumpli in our knaveries.
Asist. This confirms What was reported of him. [Aside.
Met. ^Twas done bravely.
Alg. I must a little glory in the means We officers have to play the knaves^ and safely; How we break through the toils pitchM by the law^ Yet hang up them that are far less delinquents : A simple shopkeeper 's carted for a bawd^ For lodgings though unwittingly, a smock-gamester ; Where', with rewards and credit, I have kept Malroda in my house, as in a cloister. Without taint or suspicion.
Pack. But suppose The governor should know it ?
Alg. He ! good gentleman. Let him perplex himself with prying into The measures in the market, and the abuses The day stands guilty of: the pillage of The night is only mine, mine own fee-simple. Which you shall hold from me, tenants at will, And pay no rent for 't.
Pach. Admirable landlord !
Alg. Now we '11 go search the taverns, commit such As we find drinking, and be di'unk ourselves With what we take from them. These silly wretches, Whom I for form-sake only have brought hither, Shall watch without, and guard us.
Asist. And we will [Coming forward.
See you safe lodg'd, most worthy Alguazier, With all of you, his comrades.
Met. 'Tis the governor.
Alg. We are betray'd.
Asist. My guard there !
Enter Guard.
Bind them fast. — How men in high place and authority
' Where'] " i. e. Whereas." Weber.
sfKNEiv.j LOVE'S CURE. 175
Are in tlicir lives and estimations Avrong'd
By their subordinate ministers ! yet such
They cannot but employ ; wrong'd Justice finding
Scarce one true servant in ten officers. —
To expostulate with you, were but to delay
Your crimes' due punishment, which shall fall upon you
So speedily and severely, that it shall
Fright others by the example ; and confirm,
However corrupt officers may disgrace
Themselves, 'tis not in them to wrong their place. —
Bring them away.
Aly. AYe '11 sufFer nobly yet, And like to Spanish gaDants.
Pack. And we '11 hang so.
Laz. I have no stomach to it ; but I '11 endeavour.
[Exeunt.
SCENE JY.— Another street.
Enter Lucio ajid Genevora.
Gen. Nay, you are rude ; pray you, forbear ; you ofter now More than the breeding of a gentleman Can give you warrant for.
Lucio. 'Tis but to kiss you ; And think not I 'U receive that for a favoui- Which was enjoin'd me for a penance, lady.
Gen. You have met a gentle confessor ; and, for once, (So then you will rest satisfied,) I vouchsafe it.
Lucio. Rest satisfied with a kiss ! why, can a man Desu'e more from a woman ? is there an\' Pleasure beyond it ? may I never live, If I know what it is !
Gen. Sweet innocence ! [A.n(ie.
Lucio. [Kisses her] What strange new motions do 1 (cc\ ! my veins Burn with an vuiknown fire; in every ]iart I suffer alteration ; I am poison'd,
176 LOVE'S OURE. [act iv.
Yet languish with desire again to taste it, So sweetly it works on me.
Gen. I ne'er saw A lovely man till now. [Aside.
Lmcio. How can this be ? She is a woman, as my mother is, And her I have kiss'd often, and brought off My lips unscorch'd : yours are more lovely, lady, And so should be less hurtful. Pray you, vouchsafe Your hand, to quench the heat ta'en from your lip : Perhaps that may restore me.
Gen. Willingly.
Lucio. The flame increases. If to touch you bum thus. What would more strict embraces do ? I know not : And yet, methinks, to die so were to ascend To Heaven through Paradise.
Gen. I am wounded too ; Though modesty forbids that I should speak What ignorance makes him bold in [Aside] . — Why do you fix Your eyes so strongly on me ?
Lucio. Pray you, stand still : There is nothing else that is worth the looking on : I could adore you, lady.
Gen. Can you love me ?
Lucio. To wait on you in your chamber, and but touch What you, by wearing it, have made divine. Were such a happiness ! I am resolv'd, I 'U sell my liberty to you for this glove. And write myself your slave.
Enter L amoral.
Gen. On easier terms Receive it, as a friend. [Gives him her glove.
Lam. How ! giving favour ? I '11 have it, with his heart.
[Seizes the glove, and puts it in his hat. Gen. What will you do ? Lucio. As you are merciful, take my life rather !
[Kneels to Lamoral.
SCENE IV.] LOVE'S CURE. I7-
Gen. Will you depart "^ with it so ?
Lucio} Does that grieve you ?
Gen. I know not; but even now you appear ['d] valiant.
Lucio. 'Twas to preserve my father : in his cause I could be so again.
Gen. Not in your own V Kneel to thy rivals and thine enemy ! Away, unw^orthy creature ! I begin To hate myself, for gi^ing entrance to A good opinion of thee. For thy torment, If my poor beauty be of any power, Mayst thou dote on it desperately ! but never Presume to hope for grace, till thou recover And wear the favour that was ravish'd from thee.
Lam. He wears my head too then. [Exit.
Gen. Poor fool, farewell ! [Exit.
Lucio. My womanish soul, which hitherto hath govern'd This coward flesh, I feel departing from me ; And in me, by her beauty, is inspu*'d A new and masculine one, instructing me What^s fit to do or suffer. Powerfid Love, That hast with loud and yet a pleasing thunder Rous'd sleeping manhood in me, thy new creature, Perfect thy work ; so that I may make known. Nature, though long kept back, will have her own !
[Exit.
■' depa7't] "i. e. part." Ed. 1778. I Liocio] Both the fohos " Lam."
VOL. IX.
1 78 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
ACT V.
SCENE l.—A street.
Enter Lamoral and Lucio.
Lam. Can it be possible tliat^ in six short hours, The subject still the same, so many habits Should be remov'd ? or this new Lucio (he That yesternight was baffled i and disgraced, And thank'd the man that did it ; that then kneeFd And bluljber^d Uke a woman) should now dare On terms of honour seek*" reparation For what he then appear'd not capable of?
Lucio. Such miracles men that dare do injuries Live to their shames to see, for" punishment And scourge to their proud follies.
Lam. Prithee, leave me : Had I my page or footman here to flesh thee, I durst the better hear thee.
Lucio. This scorn needs not : And offer such no more !
Lam. Why, say I should. You '11 not be angry ?
Lucio. Indeed, I think I shall. Would you vouchsafe to shew yourself a captain. And lead a little further, to some place That 's less frequented
Lam. He looks pale.
Lucio. If not, Make use of this.
Lam. There 's anger in his eyes too ;
' baffled'] i. e. ignominiously treated, insulted : see notes, vol. ii. 286, vol. iii. 399.
m honour seek'] Sympson silently printed " honour to seeh " ; and so the Editors of 1778.
" see, for] Both the foUos " see, and for."
SCENE I.] LOVE'S CURE. 17<i
His gesture, voice, beliavioiir, all ncw-fasliioii'd. Well, if it does endure in act the trial Of what in show it promises to make good, Ulysses' Cyclops, lo's transformation, Euiydice fetch'd from hell, with all the rest Of Ovid's fables, I'll put in my" creed ; And, for proof all incredible things may be. Write down that Lucio, the coward Lucio, The womanish Lucio, fought.
Lucio. And Laraoral, The still-employ'd great duellist Lamoral, Took his life from him.
Lam. 'Twill not come to that, sure : Methinks the only drawing of my sword Should fright that confidence.
Lucio. It confirms it rather : To make which good, know you stand now oppos'd By one that is your rival ; one that Avishes Your name and title greater, to raise his ; The wrong you did less pardonable than it is, But your strength to defend it more than ever It was when justice friended it ; the lady For whom we now contend, Genevora, Of more desert (if such incomparable beauty Could suffer an addition) ; your love To Don Vitelli multiplied, and yoin* hate Against my father and his house increas'd ; And lastly, that the glove which you there wear, To my dishonom-, (which I must force from you,) Were dearer to you than your life.
Lam. You'U find It is, and so I '11 guard it.
Lucio. iVll these meet, then, With the black infamy to be foil'd by one That 's not allow'd a man, to help your valour ; That, falling by yom- hand, I may or die. Or win in this one single opposition
" my] Botli the folios "your". N 2
180 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
My mistress, and such honour as I may Enrich my father^s arms with !
Lam. ^Tis said nobly : My life with them are at the stake.
Lucio. At all, then !
[They fight. Lucio disarms Lamoral.
La7n. She 's yours : this, and my life too, follow your fortune ! [Gives up his hat with the glove.
And give not only back that part the loser Scorns to accept of.
Lucio. What 's that ?
Lam. My poor life ; Which do not leave me as a further torment. Having despoil'd me of my sword, mine honour, Hope of my lady^s grace, fame, and all else That made it worth the keeping.
Lucio. I take back No more from you than what you forc'd from me, And with a worser title. Yet think not That I '11 dispute this, as made insolent By my success, but as one equal with you. If so you will accept me. That new courage (Or call it fortune, if you please), that is Conferr'd upon me by the only sight Of fair Genevora, was not bestow'd on me To bloody purposes ; nor did her command Deprive me of the happiness to see her. But till I did redeem her favour from you ; Which only I rejoice in, and share with you In all you suffer else.
Lam. This courtesy Wounds deeper than your sword can, or mine own : Pray you, make use of either, and despatch me.
Lucio. The barbarous Turk is satisfied with spoil ; And shall I, being possess'd of what I came for, Prove the more infidel ?
Lam. You were better be so Than publish my disgrace, as 'tis the custom. And which I must expect.
SCENE I.] LOVE'S CURE. lill
Lucio. Judge better on" me : I have no tongue to trumpet mine own praise To yom- dishonour ; 'tis a bastard courage That seeks a name out that way, no true-born oiu\ Pray you, be comforted ; for, by all goodness, But to her virtuous self (the best part of it), I never will discover on what terms I came by these : which yet I take not from you, But leave you, in exchange of them, mine own. With the desire of being a friend ; which if You will not grant me, but on fm-ther trial Of manhood in me, seek me when you please, (And though I might refuse it with mine honour) Win them again, and wear them. So, good morrow.
\_Gives him his own hat, and eant.
Lam. I ne'er knew what true valour was till now ; And have gain'd more by this disgrace, than all The honours I have won : they made me proud, Presumptuous of my fortune, a mere beast, Fashion'd by them, only to dare and do. Yielding no reasons for my wilful actions But what I stuck on my sword's point, presuming It was the best revenue. How unequal Wrongs well maintain' d make us to others, which, Ending wdth shame, teach us to know oiu'selves'' ! I will think more on't.
Enter Vitelli. Vit. Lamoral ! Lam. My lord ? Vit. I came to seek you. Lam. And unwiUingly You ne'er found me till now. Yom* pleasure, sii- ?
° ow] i. c. of. — The modern editors silently print "of".
p IIow uiuqual
Wronr/s ivell maintaiii'd make us to others, which,
Endlnr/ ivith shame, teach us to know ourselves] "' Unequal ' in this place nie.-uis luijust, iniquus. < Wronr/x well maintained' means injuries successfully main- tained, not justly." Mason. — Both the folios " makes".
182 LOVE'S CURE. [act v,
Vit. That which will please thee, friend : thy vow^d love to me Shall now be put in action; means is ofter'd To use thy good sword for me, that which still Thou wear'st as if it were a part of thee. Where is it ?
Lam. ^Tis changM for one more fortunate : Pray you, inquire not how.
Vit. Why, I ne^er thought That there was magici in it, but ascrib [M] The fortune of it to the arm.
Lam. Which is Grown weaker too. I am not (in a word) Worthy your friendship : I am one new-vanquish\l. Yet shame to tell by whom.
Vit. But I 'W tell thee ^Gainst whom thou art to fight, and there redeem Thy honom' lost, if there be any such. The king, by my long suit, at length is pleas^l That Alvarez and myself, with cither's second. Shall end the difference between our houses. Which he accepts of: I make choice of thee ; And, where' you speak of a disgrace, the means To blot it out by such a public trial Of thy approved valoiu", will revive Thy ancient courage. If you embrace it, do ; If not, I '11 seek some other.
Lam. As I am. You may command me.
Vit. Spoke like that true friend. That loves not only for his private end ! [Exeunt.
1 tnagic] Sympson's correction. — Both the folios " musick ". " where'\ i. e. whereas.
SCENE 11.] LOVE'S CURE. 183
SCENE 11.— Anolher street.
Enter Genevora with a letter, and Bubadilla.
Gen. This fi*om Madonna Clara ?
Bob. Yes, an't please you.
Gen. Alvarez' daughter ?
Bob. The same, lady.
Gen. She That sa\^d my brother's life ?
Bob. You are still in the right : She will'd me wait your walking forth, and, knowing How necessary a discreet wise man Was in a business of such weight, she pleas'd To think on me. It may be, in my face Yoiu' ladyship, not acquainted with my wisdom, Finds no such matter : what I am, I am : Thought 's free, and think you what you please.
Gen. 'Tis strange
Bob. That I should be wise, madam ?
Gen. No, thou art so. There 's for thy pains ; and, prithee, tell thy lady
[Gives money. I will not fail to meet her : 1 '11 receive Thy thanks and duty in thy present absence. Farewell, farewell, I say ! now thou art wise.
[Exit BOBADILLA.
She writes here, she hath something to impart That may concern my brother's life : I know not ; But general fame does give her out so worthy. That I dare not suspect her ; yet wish Lucio Were master of her mind : but, fie upon 't ! Why do I think on him?
Enter Lucio. See, I am punish'd for it In his unlook'd-for presence ! now I must Endiu'C another tedious piece of covu'tship Would make one forswear coiu'tcsy. [Aside.
184 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
Lucio. Gracious madam, [Kneels.
The sorrow paid for your just anger towards me. Arising from my weakness, I presume To press into your presence, and despair not An easy pardon.
Gen. He speaks sense : oh, strange ! [Aside.
Lucio. And yet believe, that no desire [s] of mine. Though all are too strong in me, had the power. For their delight, to force me to infringe What you commanded ; it being in yorn* part To lesson your great rigoui* when you please. And mine to suffer with an humble patience What you ^11 impose upon it.
Gen. Courtly too ! [Aside.
Lucio. Yet hath the poor and contemn' d Lvicio, madam, (Made able only by his hope to serve you,) Recovered what with violence, not justice. Was taken from him ; and here at your feet. With these, he could have laid the conquer'd head Of Lamoral ('tis all I say of him) For rudely touching that which, as a relic, I ever would have worshipped, since 'twas yours.
[Lays the hat and ff love at her feet.
Gen. Valiant, and every thing a lady could Wish in her servant ! [Aside.
Lucio. All that 's good in me. That heavenly love, the opposite to base lust. Which would have all men worthy, hath created ; Which, being by yom- beams of beauty form'd, Cherish as jour own creatui'e.
Gen. I am gone Too far now to dissemble [Asidel . — Rise, or siu-e I must kneel with you too: let this one kiss f
Speak the rest for me : 'tis too much I do. And yet, if Chastity woidd, I could wish more. s
Lucio. In overjoying me, you are grown sad : 1
What is it, madam ? by [my soul, I swear] '',
' [my soul, I svjear] A bi'eak here iii both the fohos.
SCENE III] LOVE'S CURE. isri
There 's nothing that 's within my nerves (and yet, Favour'd by you, I should as much as man) But when you please, now, or on all occasions You can think of hereafter, but you may Dispose of at your pleasm-e !
Gen. If you break That oath again, you lose me : yet so well I love you, I shall never put you to ^t ; And yet, forget it not. Rest satisfied With that you have rcceiv'd uoav : there are eyes May be upon us ; till the difference Between oui* friends are ended % I would not Be seen so private with you.
Lucio. I obey you.
Gen. But let me hear oft from yo\i, and remember I am Vitelli's sister.
Lucio. WTiat 's that, madam ?
Gen. Nay, nothing. Fare you y\'e\\ : who feels love's fire. Would ever ask to have means to desired [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — A court in the Castle of Saint Jayo : a scaf- folding in the back-ground, filled with spectators.
Enter" Asistente^, Saavedra, An astro. Herald, and Attendants.
Asist. Are they come in ?
Herald. Yes.
Asist. Read the proclamation. That all the people here assembled may Have satisfaction what the king's dear love. In care of the republic, hath ordain'd. — Attend Avith silence. — Read aloud.
' till the difference
Between our friends are ended] Examples of similai* plirascology have occurred before : see notes, vol. v. 7, 94, &c.
* to have means to desire'] "i. e. to have the means to comi)ass his desire." Sympson. " Sm'ely, this is wTongly interpreted. The mennuig is, ' All who feel the pleasui-e of love, would wish always to have tlie means of loving.' To have means to desire C'xnnot he cons.ivnc'X means to compass his disin."' Ed. 17711. I incline to believe that Sympson's explanation is the right one.
" Enter] Weber gave "Enter above"; which is proved to he wrong liy a subsequent part of the scene.
' Asislente] See note, p. ITS.
186 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
Herald, [reads] Forasmuch as our high and mighty master, Philip, the potent and most catholic king of Spain, hath not only in his own royal person been long and often solicited and grieved with the deadly and uncurable hatred sprung up betwixt the two ancient and most honour ably -descended houses of these his two dearly and equally -beloved subjects, Don Fernando "' de Alvarez and Don Pedro de Vitelli {all which in vain his majesty hath often endeavoured to reconcile and qualify) ; but that also, through the debates, quarrels, and outrages daily arising, falling, and flowing from these great heads, his public civil government is seditiously and barbai'ously molested and wounded, and many of his chief gentry {no less tender to his royal inajesty than the very branches of his own sacred blood) spoiled, lost, and submerged in the hnpious inundation and torrent of their still-growing malice ; it hath therefore pleased his sacred majesty, out of his infinite affection to preserve his commonwealth and general peace from farther violation {as a sweet and heartily -loving father of his people), and on the earnest petitions of these arch-enemies, to order and ordain, that they be ready, each with his well-chosen and beloved friend, armed at all points like gentlemen, in the Castle of St. Jago, on this present Monday morning, betwixt eight and nine of the clock ; ivhere {before the combatants be allowed to commence this granted duel) this to be read aloud for the vublic satisfaction of his majesty^ well-beloved subjects. Save the king ! [Drums within.
Saav. Hark, how their drums speak their insatiate thirst Of blood, and stop their ears 'gainst pious Peace, Who, gently whispering, implores their friendship !
Asist. Kings nor authority can master Fate. — Admit 'em, then ; and blood extinguish hate !
Enter, severally, Alvarez and Lucio, Vitelli and Lamoral.
Saav. Stay : yet be pleas'd to think, and let not daring (Wherein men now-a-days exceed even beasts. And think themselves not men else) so transport you Beyond the bounds of Christianity.
"■ Fernando] Here both tlic folios " Fenlinaudo" : but see p. 129, sixth speeeh.
scKNE 111.] LOVE'S CURE. 1«7
Lord Alvarez, Vitelli, gentlemen,
No town in Spain, from our metropolis
Unto the rudest hovel, but is great
With youi- assiu-ed valoiu's' daily proofs :
Oh, will you then, for a superfluous fame,
A sound of houoiu', which, in these times, all
Like heretics profess (with obstinacy.
But most erroneously), ventui'e your soids ?
'Tis a hard task, thorough a sea of blood
To sail, and land at Heaven.
Vit. I hope not, If Justice be my pilot. But, my lord. You know, if argument, or time, or love. Could reconcile, long since we had shook hands : I dare protest, youi* breath cools not a vein In any one of us ; but blows the fire, WTiich nought but blood reciprocal can quench.
Alv. ViteUi, thou say^st bravely, and say^st right ; And I will kill thee for ^t, I love thee so.
Vit. Ha, ha, old man ! upon thy death I ^11 build A story with this arm, for thy old wife To tell thy daughter Clara seven years hence. As she sits weeping by a winter-fire. How such a time Vitelli slew her husband With the same sword his daughter favour'd him, And lives, and wears it yet. — Come, Lamoral, Redeem thyself.
Lam. Lucio, Genevora Shall on tliis sword receive thy bleeding heart. For my presented hat, laid at her feet.
Lucio. Thou talk'st well, Lamoral : but ^tis thy head That I will carry to her to thy hat. — Fie, father ! I do cool too much.
Alv. Oh, boy, thy father's true son ! — Beat di'ums ! — And so, good morrow to }'our lordship !
\_Dn<nfs.
Enter, above, EuciiKiA, Claua, kiuI Genevora. Saui:. Brave resolutions ! Anas. Brave, and Spanish right !
188 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
Gen. Lucio !
Clara. Vitelli !
Eug. Alvarez !
Alv. How the devil Got these cats into the gutter ? my puss too !
Eug. Hear us !
Gen. We must be heard !
Clara. We will be heard ! Vitelli, look ; see, Clara on her knees, Imploring thy compassion ! — Heaven, how sternly They dart their emulous eyes, as if each scornM To be behind the other in a look ! — Mother, Death needs no sword here ! — Oh, my sister, (Fate fain would have it so,) persuade, entreat ! A lady's tears are silent orators. Or should be so at least, to move beyond The honiest-tongued" rhetorician. — Why will you fight ? why, does an uncle's death. Twenty-year old, exceed your love to me, But twenty days ? whose forc'd cause and fair manner You could not understand, only have heard. Custom, that wrought so cunningly on Nature In me, that I forgot my sex, and knew not Whether my body female were or male. You did unweave, and had the power to charm A new creation in me, made me fear To think on those deeds I did perpetrate. How little power though you allow to me. That cannot with my sighs, my tears, my prayers. Move you from your own loss, if you should gain !
Vit. I must forget you, Clara : till I have Redeemed my uncle's blood, that brands my face Like a pestiferous carbuncle, I am l^lind To what you do, deaf to your cries, and marble To all impulsive exorations. When on this point I liaA e perch'd thy father's soul.
toiigu^d
honkst-tonr/ued] Sympson's proposed emendation. — Both the folios " honest
SCENE III.] LOVE'S CURE. IH.')
I '11 tender thee this bloody reeking liaiul, Drawn forth the bowels of that murderer ; If tliou canst love mc then, I '11 marry thee, And, for thy father lost, get thee a son ; On no condition else.
Asist. Most barbarous !
Saav. Savage !
Anas. Irreligious !
Gen. Oh, Lucio, Be thou more merciful ! thou bear'st fewer years, Art lately wean'd from soft effeminacy ; A maiden's manners, and a maiden's heart, Ai'e neighboui's still to thee : be, then, more mild ; Proceed not to this combat. Be'st thou desperate Of thine own life ? yet, dearest, pity mine ! Thy valour 's not thine own ; I gave it thee ; These eyes begot it, this tongue bred it up. This breast would lodge it : do not use my gifts To mine own ruin : I have made thee rich ; Be not so thankless to undo mc for 't.
Lucio. Mistress, you know I do not wear a vein I would not rip for you, to do you ser^^ce : Life 's but a word, a shadow, a melting di'eam, ComparM to essential and eternal honour. Why, would you have me value it beyond Your brother ? If I first cast down my sword. May aU my body here be made one wound. And yet my soul not find Heaven thorough it !
Alv. You would be caterwauling too ; but, peace ! Go, get you home, and pro^dde dinner for Your son and me ; we 'U be exceeding merry. — Oh, Lucio, I will have thee cock of all The proud Vitellis that do Uve in Spain ! Fie, we shall take cold ! Hunch ! [pox] % I am hoarse Already.
y [^ioa,-] A break here in both the folios.
190
LOVE'S CURE.
[act v.
Lam. How yom^ sister whets my spleen ! I could eat Lucio now^.
Gen. Vitelli ! brother ! Even for your father's soul, your uncle's blood, As you do love my life ; but last, and most, As you respect your own honoiu' and fame. Throw down your sword ! he is most valiant That herein yields first.
Vit. Peace, you fool !
Clara. Why, Lucio, Do thou begin : 'tis no disparagement ; He 's elder, and thy better, and thy valom- Is in his infancy.
Gen. Or pay it me. To whom thou ow'st it. Oh, that constant Time Would but go back a week ! then, Lucio, Thou wouldst not dare to fight.
Eug. Lucio, thy mother. Thy mother begs it ! throw thy sword down first.
Alv. I '11 throw his head down after, then.
Gen. Lamoral, You have often sworn ^ you'd be commanded by me.
Lam. Never to this : your spite and scorn, Genevora, Has lost all power in me.
Gen. Your hearing for six words !
Asist. Saav. Anas. Strange obstinacy !
Alv. Vit. Lucio. Lam. We '11 stay no longer.
Clara. Then, by thy oath, Vitelli, Thy dreadful oath, thou wouldst return that sword When I should ask it, give it to me now ; This instant I require it !
Gen. By thy vow.
^ I could eat Lucio now} After these words, the first folio has, — " Gen. Lamorall : you have often sworne You'ld be commanded by me ",— a speech which presently occurs. Perhaps, as Weber observes, the interme- diate speeches were omitted in the representation.
" swoi-nl Both the folios " swore " : but earlier the first folio has " sworn " ; see the preceding note.
scENKiii.] LOVE'S CURE. ]'jl
As dreadful, Lucio, to obey my will
In any one thing I would watch to challenge,
I charge thee not to strike a stroke ! Now, he
Of our two brothers that loves perjury
Best, and dares first be damn'd, infringe his vow !
Saav. Excellent ladies !
Vit. Pish, you tyrannize.
Lucio. We did equivocate.
A/v. On!
Clara. Then, Lucio, So well I love my husband (for he is so, Wanting hut ceremony), that I pniy His vengeful sword may fall upon thy head Successfully, for falsehood to his sister !
Gen. I likewise pray, Vitelh, Lucio's sword (Who equally is my husband as thou hers) May find thy false heart, that durst gage thy faith. And durst not keep it !
Asist. Are you men, or stone?
Alv. Men, and we ^11 prove it with our swords.
Eug. Your hearing for six words, and we have done ! — Zancho, come forth ! — We ^11 fight our challenge too. —
Enter., above, Bobadilla, tcitk two swords and a pistol. Now speak your resolutions.
Gen. These they are ; The fii'st bloAv gi^•en betwixt you sheaths these swords In one another's bosoms.
Euff. And, rogue, look You at that instant do discharge that pistol Into my breast : if you start back, or quake, I '11 stick you like a pig.
Alv. Hold''! 3'ou are mad.
Gen. This we piave] said ; and, by oin' h()])e of bliss, This we will do ! Speak yoiu' intents.
Clara. Gen. Strike !
i> Hold] Before this word, there is a break in Ijotli the foUos, which Weber filled up with " By Heaven " : but uo addition is riMjuircd either for tlie sense or the metre.
192 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
Eug. Shoot !
Ah. Vit. Lucio. Lam. Hold, hold ! all friends !
Asist. Come down.
[Exeunt, above, Eugenia, Clara, Genevora, and
BOBADILLA.
Alv. These devilish women Can make men friends and enemies when they list.
Saav. A gallant undertaking, and a happy ! "Why, this is noble in you ; and will be A welcomer present to oui' master Philip Than the return from his Indies.
Enter, below, Eugenia, Clara, Genevora, and Bobadilla.
Clara. Father, your blessing !
Alv. Take her. If ye bring not Betwixt you boys that will find out new worlds, And win ^em too, I 'm a false prophet.
Vit. Brother, There is a sister. Long-divided streams Mix now at length, by fate.
Bob. 1 am not regarded : I was the careful steward that provided these instruments of peace ; I put the longest weapon in your sister's hand, my lord, because she was the shortest lady ; for likely the shortest ladies love the longest — men. And, for mine own part, I could have discharged it : my pistol is no ordinary pistol ; it has two ramming buUets ; but, thought I, why should I shoot my two bullets into my old lady? If they had gone, I would not have stayed long after; I would even have died too, bravely, i' faith, like a Roman steward ; hung myself in mine own chain '^, and there had been a story of Bobadilla Spindola Zancho for after-ages to lament. Hum; I perceive, I am not only not regarded, but also not rewarded.
Alv. Prithee, peace ! Shalt have a new chain, next St. Jaques' day. Or this new-gilt.
•I chain] See note, p. 118.
SCENE III.] LOVE'S CURE. 193
Bob. I am satisfied ; let Virtue have her due. Aud yet I am melancholy upon this atonement*^: pray Heaven the state rue it not ! I would my lord Vitclli's steward and I could meet ! they should find it should cost 'em a little more to make us friends. Well, I will forswear wane and women for a year; and then I Avill be drunk to-morrow, and run a- whoring like a dog w ith a broken bottle at 's tail ; then Mill I repent next day, and forswear 'em again more vehemently; be forsworn next day again, and repent my repentance ; for thus a melancholy gentleman doth and ought to live.
Asist. Nay, you shall dine with mc ; and afterward I '11 with yc to the king. But, first, I will Despatch the castle's business, that this day May be complete. — Bring forth the maleft\ctors !
Alguazicr, Pacuieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, Lazarillo, Piorato, and Malroda, are hrought in hy the Guard.
You, Alguazier, the ring-leader of these Poor fellows, are degraded from your office. You must restore all stoln goods you receiv'd, And watch a twelvemonth without any pay : This if you fail of, (all your goods confiscate,) You are to be whipt, and sent into the galleys.
Alg. I like all, but restoring ; that catholic doctrine I do dislike. Learn, all ye officers. By this to live uprightly — if you can ! \Exit.
Asist. You, cobbler, to translate your manners new, Are doom'd to the cloisters of the Mendicants, With this youi* brother botcher, there for nothing To cobble, and heel hose for the poor friars. Till they allow your penance for sufficient. And your amendment : then you shall be freed, And may set up again.
Pack. Mendoza, come : Our souls have trod awry in all men's sight ; We '11 under-lay 'em, till they go upright.
[Exeunt Pachieco and Mendoza.
* atonement] i. e. reconcilement. VOL. IX. O
194 LOVE'S CURE. [act v.
Asist. Smitlij in those shackles you^ for your hard heart, Must lie by th^ heels a year.
Met. I have shod your horse, my lord.
Asist. Away ! [Exit Metaldi.
For you, my hungry white-loafed face, You must to the galleys, where you shall be sure To have no more bits than you shall have blows.
Laz. Well, though [I] herrings want, I shall have rows.
[Exit.
Asist. Signior, you have prevented us, and punish'd Yourself severelier than we would have done : You have married a whore ; may she prove honest !
Pio. 'Tis better, my lord, than to marry an honest woman That may prove a whore.
Vit. ^Tis a handsome wench : an thou canst keep her tame, 1^11 send you what I promisVl.
Pio. Joy to your lordships !
Alv. Here may all ladies learn to make of foes The perfect'st friends ; and not the perfect'st foes Of dearest friends, as some do now-a-days.
Vit. Behold the power of Love ! lo. Nature lost* By Custom irrecoverably, past the hope Of friends' restoring. Love hath here retrieved To her own habit ; made her blush to see Her so-long monstrous metamorphoses ! May strange affairs never have worse success ! [Exeunt.
' lo, Nature lost, &c.] Heath's correction (MS. Notes). — Both the folios "to nature lost ", Sec. ; and so Sympson, who proposed in a note " Nature, tho' lost", &c., which was adopted by the Editors of 177H. — Weber gave Mason's conjec- ture, " So Nature lost ", &c.
EPILOGUE.
Our author fears there are some rebel hearts, Whose dulness doth oppose Love's piercing darts ; Such will be apt to say there wanted wit^ The language low, very few scenes are writ With spu-it and life : such odd things as these He cares not for, nor ever means to please ; For, if yourselves, a mistress, or Love's friends, Are lik'ds with this smooth play, he hath his ends.
K lik'd] " i. e. pleased." Svmpson.
O 2
THK
MAID IN THE MILL.
The Maid in the Mill.
In the folios, 1647, 167.9. The second folio adds " A Comedy."
li)0
We find from the memoranda of Sir Henry Herbert that this comedy was the joint production of Fletcher and A\'illiam Rowley", that it was licensed August 29, 1623, and acted at the Globe : its success is not to be doubted, foron the same authority we learn that it was performed thrcetimes at court, during that year — "Upon Michelmas night att Hampton Court, by the K. Company", " Upon AUhollows night at St. James, tlic prince being there only, with reformations", and " Upon St. Stevens daye, the king and prince being there, by the K. Company, att Wliiteliall." See Malone's Shakspeare (by Boswell), iii. 22()-7.
" The Plot of Antonio, (^Martine, j Ismenia, and Aminta, is borrow'd from Gerardo, a Romance translated from the Spanish of Don Gonzalo de Cespides and Meneces : see the Story of Don Jayme, pag. 350. As to the riot of Otrante's seizing Florimel, the Millers supposed Daughter, and attempting her Chastity, 'tis borrow'd from an Italian Novel writ by Bandello, a Translation of which into French the Reader may find in Les Histoires Tragiques par M. Bellefbrest, Tom. i. Hist. 12. The same Story is related by M. Goulart; see Les Histoires adinirables de notre temps, 8". Tom. i. p. 212." Langbaine's Account of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 211.
Of the two tales indicated by Langbaine, abridgements were given by ^V'eber, which, with very material alterations, I now subjoin.
i. {Gerardo\ pp. 347—371, ed. 1653.) "Gerardo, having unex- pectedly met his friend Don Jayme on the coast of Barbary, and having related to him his own adventures, requested him to mention the cause which led him to so remote a shore. Don Jayme accordingly gave the following narrative. During his residence at Zaragoza, ill-will arose between his uncle Don Julio de Aragon and Don Lisauro; the latter conceiving himself offended by the former. In consequence of this quarrel some serious rencoun- tres occurred, and the nobles ranged themselves into factions on the sides of the two opponents. Don Julio had occasion to take a journey out of town, and his nephew Don Jayme accompanied him. On their return, and when within some three leagues of Zaragoza, they were compelled by a violent storm to seek shelter in ' a good fair house of pleasure, which
• of W. Howley (who played one of the characters in this comedy) some not ice will bo found in the biographical essay prefixed to the present edition.
^ Concerning tliis romance, vide introduction to The Spanish Curate, vol. vlii. .17.1. Wlieii Weber edited that play, he had not seen Ircrardo.
200
seemed to belong to some gentleman' ; and they reached it just as ' a coach entred in at another Gate, driven (as it might seem) by the same necessity'. After remaining there some time, the old gentleman wished to pursue his way homewards ; but Don Jayme, curious to view the females whom he supposed to be in the coach, lifted up one of the boot-lids and looked in, ' when out issued two men, who, laying hold on their swords, as they joyntly blamed this unmannerly act, obliged him to the like, and the rather, he knowing them to be no other than Lisauro and his kinsman Tirso, both his vowed Enemies'. The fray extended to the servants of the parties, and a general scuffle ensued, accompanied by the outcries of the women in the carriage. Don Julio pursued Lisauro, who stumbled and fell : Don Julio had like to have fallen above him ; which Tirso observing, attacked Don Julio, tilting at him with his sword ; but Don Jayme warded off the thrusts aimed at his uncle. By this time Lisauro had risen ; and Don Jayme, ' leaving Don Julio and Tirso to begin again upon even terms ', engaged in a combat with Lisauro, disarmed him, and would have followed up his advantage, ' had it not been for the inter- cession of two Dames, one of which laying hold on his Contrary % all blubber'd and afflicted, and the other coming towards Don Jayme, sought to asswage his anger, and to mediate for the disarmed Gentleman. She that spoke to Don Jayme had her face all covered with Tiffany, which serving as a Mask, onely discovered two fair eys, but at this time clouded with some pitifull tears, which, accompanied with sighs and dis- creet phrase, not onely reined in Don Jayme's unbridled fury, but also (seeing Tirso on one side wounded by his Uncle flie back, and on the other their servants driven up to a corner labour in their defence) made hiui to second Tirso, and, re-bating Don Julio's blows and his, cried [cry] out to them to hold : and by this time some other indifferent parties came happily in and parted them all. Don Jayme signified to the un- known Dame that her discreet and noble carriage gained him to be her servant as far as the saving her Kinsman or friends life, and should command his own'. With difficulty he persuaded his uncle to mount his horse ; and, in the hurry, forgot to take leave of the gentlewomen. When they had returned to Zaragoza, Don Jayme, by the advice of his uncle, withdrew for more than a fortnight to 'a village some days journey off'. The officers of justice having at length pacified the parties, Don Jayme came back, and endeavoured to obtain information who the unknown ladies were and whither they had gone ; but without success. After more than two months, as he was one morning going out of his lodging ' to meet some friends who had appointed the venturing of a Rest at Primera,'
■= Contrart/I i. e. opponent.
201
a woman in a mask put a letter into his hand, and saying ' to-morrow morn- ing you shall have me here for the answer', suddenly departed. The letter contained thanks 'for his nobleness not long since to Lisauro' in the fray, and gave some broad hints of the fair writer's affection for himself. In his answer to this epistle Don Jayme let the lady know the search he had made to discover her, urged his desire to see her, and concluded ' with submitting himself to her will, without seeking to know or inquire any thing that might contradict her pleasure'. Next morning he delivered his answer to the masked woman at the appointed place. ' 'Twas now about the gladsom time of Shrove-tide, more solemnly kept inZaragosa than any other Citieof Spain ; at which time, with some friends and kinsmen of his own age and condition, clad in colours and Vizards, Don Jayme marched up and down the streets, enjoying many amirthfull oportunity; for at this time of year the women have full liberty, and dispense with their ordinary reservedness'. During this season, on Sunday night, the friends visited several private houses where revels were kept, and at last entered that of Signior Bellides, one of the opposite faction, 'where all the youth, bra- very, and beauty of the Citie was'. There Don Jayme was immediately struck by the charms of a lady next whom he was seated. She discovered who he was, spoke to him by name, and was expressing her great satisfac • tion at seeing him, when one of the gallants interi-upted her by ' inviting her out to a Galliard'; nor was she able, on account of the great crowd in the room, to rejoin Don Jayme during the evening. Don Jayme, having mentioned to one of his friends the impression which the lady's beauty had made upon him, was informed that she was the daughter of Signior Bellides, 'which made him much more wonder at the success, and sorrow- fully despairfull least the differences betwixt her friends and his would quite dash the prosecution of that amorous fire which by little and little had wholly seiz'd his heart'. During the Shrovetide sports he again met her several times, but could never obtain a moment's conversation with her. This new passion, however, did not make him forget the lady whom he had seen at the country-house ; and he was greatly surprised and perplexed by receiving from the latter ' a Ticket in whicii she not onely signified her jealous complaints, but particularized also the most singular acts and signs even to the very Phrase he used to the Dame of the Revels.' He resolved to deny all ; and, in his answer, most earnestly requested to see her. She excused herself from granting this request ; and he, 'slackning the return of answers to her Tickets, began to re-pro- secute his amorous intents with the spritely Dame of the Revels'; and, having obtained her permission ' that his minde miglit l>c signified to lier in a Song', he serenaded her about midnight, being heard not only by
202
her, but by the whole neighbourhood. The following day he was upbraided for this want of fidelity in a letter from the country-lady, and invited to an interview with her the ensuing night. He was accordingly conducted into a narrow lane, and left under ' certain ruinous white Walls', while his guide ' by another way returned to give notice to her Mistris '. After a long hour at least, a woman (whom by her voice he knew to be his guide) drew up a neighbouring window, and ' bade him get to the top of the broken Wall, from whence they might conveniently speak to him.' His fair one at last appeared, and (the wall on which he stood well nigh reaching to the iron frame of her bay window, and there being a light in her chamber) proved to be no other than the daughter of Signior Bellides. He was altogether unprepared for such a discovery, and stood mute, till she informed him that she and the countiy-lady were the same, that her name was Ismenia, and that nothing but the enmity of their patents had prevented her hitherto from giving him an assignation. Don Jayme now ' excused the errour of his inconstancy against the countrey Dame, attributing it to the rare beauty and attractive power of Ismenia ' ; and he learned from her ' that the I'eason of her com- ing with Lisauro and Tirso to the countrey house was to avoid the storm which that afternoon took them as they were going from Zaragosa to a Village, where at the same time her Father lay very sick ; for whom, together with her Mother (the fore-mentioned woman in the Fray), they went to bring him more commodiously home ; and that afterward return- ing to the City, inforced, as she said (but more by her own generous condition) by Don Jayme's courtesie, she indeavoured by her trusty Maid to give him notice of her affection'. Day coming on, the lovers parted, after appointing future meetings in the same place. The following night, as Don Jayme was about to mount the old wall, three or four persons entered the lane, whom he heard closely whispering. His trouble was increased by Ismenia appearing at the window and calling upon him to approach. The men drew nearer, and he suddenly ' let fly at them outrageously', and killed one of them. The rest fled, crying out for help ; and Don Jayme, thinking it prudent to retire, ' had no sooner slipped out of the Lane, when anotlier Troop of men entered into it, whom afterward he understood to have been all of one party. Officers appointed purposely to apprehend some suspicious persons thereabouts'. Next morning he received a letter from Ismenia excusing her inconsiderateness, and advising him to discontinue their private meetings for a while, watch being kept both within and without her father's house. With her approbation he quitted Zaragoza, but kept up a correspondence with lier by letters. After two months, unable to endure a longer absence from her, he returned
203
to Zaragoza; and next night proceeded to the usual place of meeting, accompanied by his friend Don Martin de Urrea. H is visits were frequently repeated ; and the passion of the enamoured pair increased so violently, that at last, Ismenia ' taking first Heaven and her true servant to witness of his hand and faithfull vow to be her Spouse, consented Don Jayme should by the window enter her Chamber, though, for some necessary respects, the reward of his labours was deferred till the next night '. His restlessness and agitation the following morning were perceived by Don Martin, who drew the secret from him, being considered by the lover as his most faithful friend. Don Martin was easily prevailed on to accompany Don Jayme, whom, under pretence of a more complete disguise, he persuaded to exchange his cloak with him. Don Jayme having mounted the wall, two men rushed into the lane, and suddenly assailed his companion. Don Jayme leapt down, and assisting Don Martin to drive them off, pursued one of them ' somewhat hard, to remove him a good way from his Mistresses danger'. On coming back, he could not find Don Martin ; and climbing the wall, he perceived the window closely shut, which he supposed to be in consequence of Ismenia's having heard the clashing of swords, and her dread of a discovery. The next morning her maid brought him a letter, expressing her eagerness to renew the transports of the preceding night. Full of perplexity he went, as night approached, to Don Martin's lodging, but could not gain admittance. From thence he pro- ceeded to his mistress's abode ; and, when he had entered her chamber by the usual means, Ismenia upbraided him with his present sadness, as well as with his unwillingness to be seen by her and his utter silence on the preceding night. Don Jayme, finding ' that some other had been his substitute ', swooned in her arms ; and a purse left under her pillow ' by him that possessed the place and her honour ', in which a little book bear- ing Don Martin's name was enclosed, led to a final detection of his treachery. The maid now confessed that Don Martin had endeavoured to persuade her that Don Jayme had no real love for her mistress, his sole object being to revenge himself on the house of Bellides, and that he ' lived lasciviously ' with another woman ; that Don Martin declared himself at last so far as to offer the maid some gifts of value, if she would make known his own affection to her mistress ; and that, on finding these arts to be ima- vailing, he pretended that his only purpose had been to try the fidelity of the maid and the constancy of her mistress. Don Jayme did all he could to comfort Ismenia (' who had many a dead traunce in his arms '), and ' with a loving imbrace took leave, promising her faithfully not to be at quiet till her honour were fully satisfied, if not restored '. He lay in wait for his treacherous friend; but learned that Don Martin (who had
204
doubtless missed the purse, and knew that it would betray his guilt) had absconded. He now went frequently to the post-house, and looking over letters from all parts, at last lighted on one addressed to a kinsman of Don Martin : breaking it open, he found that it was written by Don Martin from Oran in Barbary, and contained a request that his relation would send him certain moneys and trunks of apparel to that place. After acquainting Ismenia with this happy discovery, he set out for Oran, ' determined, if he could, to kill his enemy '. Having arrived in a small bark at the port of Massalquibir, he had intelligence from one of the soldiers of the fort that Don Martin was in the city. Giving the soldier some silver, Don Jayme sent him to the town ' to let Don Martin know, that in the Bark (which Don Jayme fained to be his) there came certain Trunks directed to him from Zaragosa, for which he must of neces- sity come aboard to fetch them at night, because with the first fair winde the Bark was to set sail for Spain'. The messenger brought back word that Don Martin was preparing to come, and only stayed to provide him- self with a horse. Don Jayme set out on horseback towards Oran, and, having ridden about half way thither, waited for several hours under some rocks. He began to doubt his messenger's fidelity, when a horseman appeared, who, saluting him, asked whether he travelled towards the city or the port. Don Jayme, recognising the speaker by his voice, exclaimed, ' Thyself, false Don Martin, art the Port and Haven to which I go, at which the satisfaction of my Revenge must safely land ; and to no other am 1 bound ; and therefore speedily defend thyself; for know that 1 have not crossed the stormy Seas to return to the wrong'd Ismenia with less than thy lifes Revenge '. Don Martin answered with a bold defiance : and ' both of them falling back to come on with more force, wheeling about to take field-room enough, began to set spurs to their Horses '. They desperately rushed together, and with the violence of the shock both came to the ground, Don Jayme unhurt, but Don Martin run through the body by his adversary's lance. — Don Jayme concluded his story by saying, ' Of Ismenia's goodness as confident am I, as satisfied with the deserved chastisement of her wrong, which I purpose to solder (since with honour I now maj'^) by accomplishing my wedlock vow. This, Gerardo, is my intent ; this resolution carries me for Spain, more joyfuU than when I left my Countrey, for I shall not onely comply with my loves obligation, but with a greater, my souls '."
ii. (Bandello — Alessandro Duca di Firenze fa che Pietro sposa una Mugnaia che hauena rapita, e le fa far molto ricca dote.) " Pietro, one of the favourites of Alessandro de Medici, endeavoured in vain to gain the love of the beautiful daughter of a miller, who dwelt near his country-
20.5
seat. At last, witli the assistance of two friends, he forcibly brought her to his house, and tliere gratified his desires. The miller went to Flo- rence, and complained of this violence to the duke, who, promising to redress his wrongs, advised him to return to his mill. Alessandro followed him ; and then proceeded on a visit to Pietro, and inspected his house. Pietro excused himself from shewing one of the smaller rooms, pretend- ing that it was in great confusion, and that, his steward being at Florence, he could not find the key. The duke, however, insisting on seeing the apartment, Pietro whispered to him, laughing, ' that he had a young girl concealed there'. This only served to increase the duke's curiosity : the door was opened, and a full discovery took place. The duke declared that Pietro, and his two friends, deserved to lose their heads; but that he pardoned them on condition that Pietro should immediately marry the girl and give her two thousand ducats, while his two accomplices gave her a thousand ducats each. The marriage was then solemnized, the duke having assured Pietro that, if he should at any time use her ill, it would be regarded l)y him as an injury done to his own sister."
The Maid in the Mill was one of those pieces in which the youthful Betterton displayed his histrionic powers at the Cockpit in Drury-lane, in the company formed by Rhodes on the eve of the Restoration (see vol. vi. 3): and Langbaine {Account of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 211) mentions its having " been reviv'd by the Dukes House."
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Philippo, king of Spain.
Otrante, a count.
Julio, a count •*.
Antonio, his nephew.
Bellides, a gentleman, and head of
the family so called. LisAURO, his son. Martine, friend to Antonio. Terzo, kinsman to Bellides. Gerasto, friend to Otrante. Pedro, ~^
MONCADO,/''^"^*^^^^-
Gostanzo,'"}
Giraldo, ^friends to Julio.
Philippo, J
Vertigo, a French tailor.
Franio, a miller.
Bustofa, his son.
Pedro, a musician.
Lords, Gentlemen, Constable, Officers, Servants ; a boy as Cupid, and a man as a Shepherd, in the inter- lude.
Ismenia, daughter to Bellides.
Aminta, her cousin.
Florimel, daughter to Julio, and supposed daughter to Franio.
Gillian, wife to Franio.
Three women as Nymphs in the inter- lude.
Scene — Toledo and the neighbouring country.
Joseph Taylor. John Lowin. John Undei'wood William Rowley.
The principal actors were —
John Thomson. Robert Ben field. Tho. Pollard.
Fol. 1679.
*' Julio, a rount] Towards the end of the play, the king says, " Who ? Copiit Julio * "
THE
MAID IN THE MILL.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — Tlie country, in the immediate neiijhljourlKxjtl of Toledo.
Enter LiSAURo, Terzo, Ismenia, and Aminta.
Lisauro [To Attendants ivithin'] . Let the coach go roiiiul we '11 walk along these meadows. And meet at port^ again. — Come, my fair sister, These cool shades will delight you.
Amin. Vvsty, be merry : The birds sing as they meant to entertain you ; Every thing smiles abroad ; methinks the river, As he steals by, curls up his head to ^dew you : Every thing is in love.
Tsm. You would have it so : You, that are fail*, are easy of belief, cousin ; The theme slides from your tongue.
Amin. I fail* ! I thank you : Mine is but shadow when your sun shines by me.
Ism. No more of this ; you know your worth, Aminta. Where are we now ?
Amin. Hard b}' the town, Ismenia.
Terzo. Close by the gates.
Ism. 'Tis a fine air.
Lis. A delicate ; The way so sweet and even, that the coach
" ut port] " i. e. at the gate of the city." .Mason.
208 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act i.
Would be a tumbling trouble to our pleasures. Methinks I am very merry.
Ism. I am sad.
Amin. You are ever so when we entreat you^ cousin.
Ism. I have no reason : such a trembling here, Over my heart, methinks !
Amin. Sure, you are fasting, Or not slept well to-night ; some dream, Ismenia ?
Ism. My dreams are like my thoughts, honest and in- nocent; Yours are unhappy^. Who are these that coast us ? You told me the walk was private.
Terzo. ^Tis most commonly.
Enter Antonio and Martine.
Ism. Two proper men : it seems they have some business ; With me none^ sure. I do not like their faces : They are not of our company.
Terzo. No, cousin. — Lisauro, we are doggM.
Lis. I find it, cousin.
Ant. What handsome lady''
Mart. Yes, she 's very handsome ; They are handsome both.
Ant. Martine, stay; we are cozenM.
Mart. I will go up : a woman is no wildfire.
Ant. Now, by my life, she is sweet ! Stay, good Martine : They are of our enemies, the house of Bellides ; Our mortal enemies.
Mart. Let 'em be devils. They appear so handsomely, I will go forward : If these be enemies, I '11 ne'er seek friends more.
Ant. Prithee, forbear : the gentlewomen
Mart. That 's it, man. That moves'^ me like a gin'': pray you, stand off. — Ladies
' unhap2'>y] " i- e. wicked." Weber.
^ What handsome lady—] Qy. " What a handsome lady!" ? ■-■ moves] So the second folio. — The first foho " mopes ". "^ a gin] " i. e. an engine or instrument." Weber.
SCENE I.J THE MAID IN THE MILL. 209
Lis. They arc botli our enemies, both hate us enuallv ; By this fair clay, our mortal foes !
Terzo. I know 'en\ ; And come here to affront : how they gape at us ! They shall have gaping work.
[Lis. and Ter. draw their ,vror<h.
Ism. Why your swords, gentlemen ?
Terzo. Pray you, stand you off, cousin ; And good now leave yoiu' whistling ; we are a1)us'd all. — Back, back, I say !
Lis. Go back !
Ant. We are no dogs, sir, To run back on command.
Terzo. We '11 make ye run, sir.
Ant. Having a civil charge of handsome ladies. We are your senants : pray ye, no quarrel, gentlemen ; There 's way enough for both.
Lis. We '11 make it wider.
Ant. If you will fight, arm'd from^' this saint, have at ye ! [Ant. and Mart, draiv their stvords, and fight with Lis. and Ter.
Ism. Oh, mc unhappy ! — Are ye gentlemen, Discreet and ci^^l, and in open view thus
Amin. What will men think of us ! Nay, you may kill us. Mercy o' me! through my petticoat? what bloody gentle- men !
Ism. Make way through me, ye had best, and kill an innocent : Brother — why, cousin — by this light, I '11 die too ! — This gentleman is temperate ; be you merciful — Alas, the swords !
Amin. You had best run me through the belly'; 'Twill be a valiant thrust.
Ism. I faint amongst ye.
Ant. Pray you, be not fearfid ; I have done, sweet lady ; My sword 's already aw'd, and shall obey you :
«■ /)o»i] Wcbcr silently jmnted " for ".
' the bellyl So the first folio. — Omitted in the secon'l folio ; and l>y Syinii>*on and the Editors of 177!i.
VOL. IX. F
210 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act i.
I come not here to violate sweet beauty ; I bow to tbat.
Ism. Brother, you see this gentleman. This noble gentleman
Lis. Let him avoid, then, And leave our walk.
Ant, The lady may command, sir ; She bears an eye more dreadful than your weapon.
Ism. What a sweet nature this man has ! — Dear brother. Put up your sword,
Terzo. Let them put up, and walk, then.
Ant. No more loud words : there 's time enough before us : For shame, put up ! do honour to these beauties.
Mart. Our way is this ; we will not be denied it.
Terzo. And ours is this ; we will not be cross^l in it.
Ant. Whatever your way is, lady, 'tis a fair one ; And may it never meet with rude hands more. Nor rough uncivil tongues !
Ism. I thank you, sir. Indeed, I thank you nobly. [Exeunt Antonio and Martine.
A brave enemy ! Here ^s a sweet temper now ! This is a man, brother ; This gentleman's anger is so nobly seated. That it becomes him ; yours proclaim ye monsters. WTiat if he be ourS house-foe ? we may brag on 't ; We have ne'er a friend in all our house so honourable : I had rather from an enemy, my brother. Learn worthy distances and modest difference h, Than from a race of empty friends loud nothings. I am hurt between ye.
Amin. So am I, I fear too : I am sure their swords were between my legs'. — Dear cousin. Why look you pale ? where are you hurt ?
B our] Weber chose to print " your ".
*■ modest difference] " i. e. modesty in my difference with him." Heath (3fS. Notes). " A difference or quarrel modestly maintained." Weber. — Altered by Sympson to '^ modest deference " ; and so the Editors of 1778.
i / mn sure their swords tvere between my legs] So the first folio. — Omitted in the second foho ; and by Sympson.
scENK 11.] THE MAID IN TIIK MILL. 211
Ism. 1 know not ; But here nictliiuks.
Lis. Unlace her, gentle cousin.
Ism. My heart, my licart ! and yet I bless the Imrter.
Amin. Is it so dangeroiis ?
Ism. Nay, nay, I faint not.
Amin. Here is no blood that I find; sure, 'tis inward.
Ism. Yes, yes, 'tis inward; 'twas a subtle weapon; The hurt not to be cur'd, I fear.
Lis. The coach there ! [To Attendants wiffiin.
Amin. May be a fright.
Ism. Aminta, 'twas a sweet one ; And yet a cruel.
Amin. Now I find the wound plain : A wondrous handsome gentleman —
Ism. Oh, no deeper ! Prithee, be silent, wench ; it may be thy case'.
Amin. You must be search'd; the wound will rankle, cousin — And of so sweet a nature
Ism. Dear Aminta, Make it not sorer !
Amin. And, on my life, admires you.
Ism. Call the coach, cousin.
Amin. The coach, the coach !
Terzo. 'Tis ready. — Bring the coach there !
[To Attendants untMn.
Lis. Well, my brave enemies, we shall yet meet ye, And om* old hate shall testify
Terzo. It shall, cousin. [Exeunt.
SCENE 11.— Toledo.— A streetK
Enter Antonio and Martine. Ant. Their swords ! alas, I weigh 'era not, dear friend ! The indiscretion of the owners blunts 'em ;
J case'\ So the second folio. — The first folio " cause."
k A street] Weber marked this scene "A Room in tlie House of .\ntonio'" but see the commencement of the next scene.
P 2
'212 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act i.
The fury of the house affrights not me.
It spends itself in words. Oh me, Martine !
There was a two-edg'd eye a lady carried,
A weapon that no valour can avoid,
Nor art, the hand of spirit, put aside.
Oh, friend, it broke out on me, like a bullet
Wrapt in a cloud of fire ! that point, Martine,
Dazzled my sense, and was too subtle for me ;
Shot like a comet in my face, and wounded.
To my eternal ruin, my hearths valour.
Mart. Methinks she was no such piece.
Ant. Blaspheme not, sir : She is so far beyond weak commendation. That Impudence will blush to think iU of her.
Mart. I saw it not, and yet I had' both eyes open. And I could judge. I know there is no beauty TiU our eyes give it ^em, and make 'em handsome : Wliat 's red and white, unless we do allow 'em ? A green face else ; and, methinks, such another
Ant. Peace, thou lewd™ heretic ! thou judge of beauties ? Thou hast an excellent sense for a sign-post, friend. Didst" thou not see, (I'U swear thou art stone-blind o else. As blind as Ignorance,) when she appear'd first, Aurora breaking in the east, and through her face, As if the Hours and Graces had strew'd roses, A blush of wonder flying ? when she was frighted At our uncivil swords, didst thou not mark How far beyond the purity of snow The soft wind drives, whiteness of innocence. Or any thing that bears celestial paleness. She appear'd o' the sudden ? Didst thou notP see her tears When she entreated ? oh, thou reprobate ! Didst thou not see those orient tears flow'd from her,
1 saw had] Both the fohos "see" - - "have". The modern editors
print " see - - liad ".
"" lewd] i. e. wicked, vile.
» Didsq Both the fohos "Dost".
" stone-blind] Both the foUos " soon blind ".
p not] So the second foHo. — Omitted m the first foHo.
SCENE II] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 213
The little worlds of love ? a set, Maitine,
Of such sauctified beads, and a holy heart to love,
I could live ever a religious hermit.
Mart. I do believe a little ; aud yet, niethinks. She was of the lowest stature.
Ant. A rich diamond. Set neat aud deep. Nature's chief art, Martine, Is to reserve her models curious. Not cumbersome and great ; and such a one, For fear she shoidd exceed upon her matter. Has she fram'd this. Oh, 'tis a spark of beauty ! Aud where they appear so excellent in little. They will but flame in great ''j extension spoils 'em. Martine, learn this ; the narrower that our eyes Keep way imto our object, still the sweeter That comes unto us : great bodies are like countries. Discovering still, toil and no pleasure finds 'em.
Mart. A rai'e cosmographer for a small island ! Now I beUeve she is handsome.
Ant. Believe heartily ; Let thy beUef, though long a-coming, save thee.
Mart. She was, certain, fair.
Ant. But hark you, friend Martine ; Do not believe yourself too far before me, For then you may -wrong me, sir.
Mart. ^\^lO bid you teach me ? Do you shew me meat, and stitch my lips, Antonio ? Is that fair play?
Ant. Now, if thou shouldst abuse me — And yet I know thee for an arrant wencher, A most immoderate thing ; thou canst not love long.
Mart. A little serves my tui'n ; I fly at all games : But I believe'.
I They will but flame in great] " Seward [who pi'oposed to read « TVici/ mill uot flame in great "] nustakes the meaning of the passage. The allusion, tliough rather obscurely expressed, is to the rays of light, which arc infinitely nioi-o bright when collected in a small focus (a spai-k of iR'.auty), than when ilispei-scd ; for then they only flame, but without brilliancy." Mason.
"■ But I believe] The modem editors put a bitak after these worily. But the sense is complete : see wliat precedes.
214 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act i.
Ant. How if we never see her more ? She is our enemy.
Mart. Why are you jealous, then ? As far as I conceive, she hates our whole house.
Ant. Yet, good Martine
Mart. Come, come ; I have mercy on you : You shall enjoy her in your dream, Antonio, And I ^U not hinder. Though, now I persuade myself
Ant. Sit with persuasion down, and you deal honestly : I will look better on her.
Enter Aminta with a letter.
Mart. Stay ; who 's this, friend ?
Ant. Is 't not the other gentlewoman ?
Mart. Yes. A letter ! She brings no challenge, sure? if she do, Antonio, I hope she '11 be a second too ; I am for her.
Amin. A good hour, gentlemen !
Ant. You are welcome, lady : 'Tis like our late rude passage has pour'd on us Some reprehension.
Amin. No, I bring no anger ; Though some deserved it.
Ant. Sure, we were" all to blame, lady ; But, for my part, in all humility, And with no little shame, I ask your pardons : Indeed, I wear no sword to fright sweet beauties.
Amin. You have it, and this letter; pray you, sii", view it,
[Gives letter to Antonio. And my commission 's done.
Mart. Have you none for me, lady ?
Amin. Not at this time.
Mart. I am sorry for't; I can read too.
Amin. I am glad : but, sir, to keep you in yoiu' exercise. You may chance meet with one ill- written.
Mart. Thank you :
» tuc?e] Weber chose to print " are ".
SCENE u.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 215
So it be a woman^s, I can pick the meauiug ; For likely they have but oue end.
Amin. You say true, sii-. [Ej-if.
Ant. Martinc, my wishes arc come home, and loadcn, Loaden with brave return ; most happy, happy ! I am a blessed man ! "SA'here 's the gentlewoman V
Mart. Gone, the spirit 's gone. \Vliat news ?
Ant. 'Tis from the lady ; From her we saw, from that same miracle : I know her name now. Read but these three lines ; Read with devotion, friend, the lines arc holy.
Mart. [Reads] / dare not chide you in my letter, sir; ' Twill be too gentle. If you please to look me ^ In the West-street, and find a fair stone window Carv'd ivith white Cupids, there I'll entertain you • Niyht and discretion guide you ! Call me Ismenia.
Ant. Give it me again. Come, come ; fly, fly ! I am all fire.
Mart. There may be danger.
Ant. So there is to diink, When men are thirsty ; to eat hastily. When we are liungiy ; so there is in sleep, fiicnd, Obstioictions then may rise and smother us ; We may die laugliing-chokM ; even at devotions, An apoplexy, or a sudden palsy. May strike us down.
Mart. May be, a train" to catch you.
Ant. Then I am caught, and let Love answer for it : ^Tis not my foUy, but his infamy. And if he be ador'd, and dare do \ild' things.
Mart. Well, I will go.
Ant. She is a lady, sir, A maid, I think ; and, where that holy spell Is flung about me, I ne'er fear a villany. 'Tis almost night ; away, friend !
t look ?iie] i. e. look out for me.
" train'] Sec note, p. 90.
' v'dd] i. c. vile : see note, vol. i. 331. — Altered to "vile" hy .Syinpson ; an<i so his successors. (In tbis passage, which is >vrongly pointed in all the cds., "And if" means simply — If.)
216 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act i.
Mart. I am ready : I think I know the house too.
Ant. Then we are happy. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — Another street ; before the house o/Bellides.
IsMENiA and Aminta appear at a loicer icindoio.
Ism. Did you meet him ?
Amin. Yes.
Ism, And did you give my letter ?
Amin. To what end went I ?
Ism. Are you sure it was he ? AVas it that gentleman ?
Amin. Do you think I was blind ? I went to seek no carrier, nor no midwife.
Ism. What kind of man was he ? thou may'st be deceiv'd, friend.
Amin. A man with a nose on ^s face ; I think he had eyes too ; And hands, for, sure, he took it.
Ism. What an answer !
Amin. What questions are these to one that's hot and troubled ! Do you think me a babe ? am I not able, cousin. At my years and discretion, to deliver A letter handsomely ? is that such a hard thing ? Why, every wafer- woman'" will undertake it ; A sempster's girl, or a tailor's wife, will not miss it : A puritan hostess, cousin, would scorn these questions. My legs are weary.
Ism. I '11 make 'em well again.
Amin. Are they at supper ?
Ism. Yes, and I am not well. Nor desire no company. Look out ; 'tis darkish.
Amin. I see nothing yet. Assure yourself, Ismenia, If he be a man, he will not miss.
"■ wafer-woman^ See note, vol. i. 32.
scENK iJi.J THE MAID IN THE MILL. 217
Ism. It may be he is modest, And that may pull him back from seeing me ; Or has made some wild construction of my easiness : I blush to think what I \mt.
Amin, What should you blush at ? Blush when you act your thoughts, not when you write 'em ; Blush soft between a pair of sheets, sweet cousin. Though he be a cm-ious-carried^ gentleman, I cannot think He 's so unnatural to leave a woman, A young, a noble, and a beauteous woman. Leave her in her desii'es : men of this age Are rather prone to come before they are sent for. Hark ! I hear something : up to the chamber, cousin ! You may spoil all else.
Enter Antonio and Martine.
Ism. Let me see. They are gentlemen ; It may be they.
Amin. They are they. Get you up. And like a load-starJ' draw him.
Ism. I am shame-fac'd.
[IsMENiA and Aminta withdraw from the window.
Ant. This is the street.
Mart. I am looking for the house. Close, close, pray you, close. Here.
Ant. No ; this is a merchant's ; I know the man well.
Mart. And this a^ 'pothecaiy's ; I have lain here many times. For a looseness in my hilts.
Ant. Have you not pass'd it ?
Mart. No, sure ; There is no house of mark that we have scap'd yet.
Ant. WTiat place is this ? Mart. Speak softer ; may be spies. 11" any, this ; a goodly window too,
* curi(ms-carried'\ i. c. sciiipulous iii behaviour. 1 load-star] Both the foHos " Land-s^nr". '• this a] Weber chose to pruit " this is a ".
mjk.
Md"
218
THE MAID IN THE MILL.
[act I.
Carvel fair'' above; that I perceive. But she has such a histre
Ant, Yes, Martiue; So radiant she appetu's
Mart. Else we may miss, sir : The uight grows veugeauce black ; clear !
Tis dark ;
pray Heave i she shine
IsMENiA and Aminta appear at an upper windoto^ ten a taper.
Hark, hark ! a window, and a candle too !
Ant. Step close. 'Tis she : I see the cloud disprse ; And now the beauteous planet
Mart. Ha ! 'tis indeed. — Now, by the soul of love, a divine creature ! [Aside.
Ism. Sir, sii' !
Ant. Most blessed lady !
Ism. Pray you, stand out.
Amin. You need not feai' ; there 's nobody now irring.
Mart. Beyond his commendation 1 am taken, Infinite strangely taken. [Aside.
Amin. I love that gentleman ; Methinks he has a dainty nimble body : I love him heartily. [Aside.
Ism. 'Tis the right gentleman ; But what to say to him — Sir
Amin. Speak.
Ant. I Avait still ; And will do till I grow another pillar, To prop this house, so it please you.
Ism. Speak softly ; And, pray you, speak truly too.
Ant. I never lied, lady.
Ism. And do not think me impudent to ask you I know you ai'e an enemy, (speak low,) But I would make you a friend.
Ant. I am friend to beauty ; There is no handsomeness I dare be foe to.
» fair] Both the fohos " far ".
kh'
Mia
SCENE m,]
TK MAID IN THE MILL.
219
Ism. Are you mnried ?
Ant. No.
/*m. Are you be^oth'd ?
Ant. No, neithe
Ism. Indeed, faiBir !
Ant. Indeed, faL':= weet, I am not : Most beauteous wm, I am free as you are.
Ism. That may \. sir : then you are miserable. For I am bound.
Ant. Happy the onds that hold you ! Or do you put thei on yourself for pleasure ? Sure, they be swe(i!r far than liberty ; There is no blesseaess but in such bondage. Give me that freedca, madam, I beseech you, (Since you have qu-stionM me so cunningly,) To ask you whom ')u are bound to ; he must be certain More than human lat bounds in such a beauty : Happy that happy hain ! such links are heavenly.
Ism. Pray you, o not mock me, sir.
Ant. Pray you, .dy, tell me.
Ism. Will you bdeve ? and wiU you keep it to you ? And not scorn wh: I speak?
Ant. I dare not.nadam; As oracle, what yo say I dare swear to.
Ism. 1^11 set th i-andle by, for I shall blush now : Fie, how it doubh m my mouth ! it must out. — 'Tis you I am bond to.
Ant. Speak thaword again ; I understand you ot.
Ism. 'Tis you I m bound to.
Ant, Here is anther gentleman.
Ism. 'Tis you, 3\
Amin. He ma}' e lov'd too.
Mart. Not by lee ; first curse me ! [Aside.
Ism. And if I new your name
Ant. Antonio, ladam.
Ism. Antonio, \ke this kiss; 'tis you I am bound to.
Ant. And, whe I set you free, may Heaven forsake mc ! Ismenia
• « 1 1 ' 1 » I • 1
1 « • V > ^
• • » * *J,
•••'•*.y.
K • >
I I
i I *JL*
218 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act i.
Carved fair'» above ; that I perceive. 'Tis dark ; But she has such a lustre
Ant. Yes, Martine; So radiant she appears
Mart. Else we may miss, sir : The night grows vengeance black ; pray Heaven she shine clear !
IsMBNiA and Aminta appear at an upper windoio., with a taper. Hark, hark ! a window, and a candle too !
Ant. Step close. 'Tis she : I see the cloud disperse ; And now the beauteous planet
Mart. Ha ! ^tis indeed. — Now, by the soul of love, a divine creature ! [Aside.
Ism. Sir, sir !
Ant. Most blessed lady !
Ism. Pray you, stand out.
Amin. You need not fear ; there 's nobody now stirring.
Mart. Beyond his commendation I am taken, Infinite strangely taken. [Aside.
Amin. I love that gentleman ; Methinks he has a dainty nimble body : I love him heartity. [Aside.
Ism. ^Tis the right gentleman ; But what to say to him — Sir
Amin. Speak.
Ant. I wait still ; And will do till I grow another pillar. To prop this house, so it please you.
Ism. Speak softly; And, pray you, speak truly too.
Ant. I never lied, lady.
Ism. And do not think me impudent to ask you — I know you are an enemy, (speak low,) But I would make you a friend.
Ant. I am friend to beauty ; There is no handsomeness I dare be foe to.
*> /air] Both the fohos " far ".
I
f
SCENE 111.] THE MAJD IN THE MILL. 211)
Ism. Are you maiTied ?
Ant. No.
Ism. Are you betroth' d ?
Ant. No, neither.
Ism. Indeed, fair sir !
Ant. Indeed, fail* sweet, I am not : Most beauteous virgin, 1 am free as you are.
Ism. That may be, sir : then you are miserable, For I am bound.
Ant. Happy the bonds that hold you ! Or do you put them on youi'self for pleasure ? Sure, they be sweeter far than liberty ; There is no blessedness but in such bondage. Give me that freedom, madam, I beseech you, (Since you have questioned me so cunningly,) To ask you whom you are bound to ; he must be certain More than hmnan that boimds in such a beauty : Happy that happy chain ! such links arc heavenly.
Ism. Pray you, do not mock mc, sii*.
Ant. Pray you, lady, tell me.
Ism. Will you believe ? and wiU you keep it to you ? And not scorn what I speak ?
Ant. I dare not, madam ; As oracle, what you say I dare swear to.
Ism. I '11 set the caudle by, for I shall blush now : Fie, how it doubles in my mouth ! it must out. — 'Tis you I am bound to.
Ant. Speak that word again ; I understand you not.
Ism. 'Tis you I am bound to.
Ant. Here is another gentleman.
Ism. 'Tis you, sii'.
Amin. He may be lov'd too.
Mart. Not by thee ; first curse me ! [^Aside.
Ism. And if I knew yovu' name
Ant. Antonio, madam.
Ism. Antonio, take this kiss ; 'tis you I am bound to.
Ant. And, when I set you free, may Heaven forsake mc ! Ismenia
220 THE MyVlD IN THE MILL. [act i.
Ism. Yes, now I perceive you love me ; You have learn'd my name.
Ant. Hear but some vows I make to you ; Hear but the protestations of a true love.
Ism. No, no, not now ; vows should be cheerful things. Done in the clearest light, and noblest testimony : No vow, dear sir ! tie not my fair behef To such strict terms : those men have broken credits, Loose and dismember'd faiths, my dear Antonio, That splinter 'em with vows. Am I not too bold ? Correct me when you please.
Ant. I had rather hear you ; For so sweet music never struck mine ears yet. Will you believe now ?
Ism. Yes.
Ant. I am yours.
Amin^K Speak louder: If you answer the priest so low, you will lose your wedding.
Mart. Would I might speak ! I would holla. [Aside.
Ant. Take my heart ; And, if it be not firm and honest to you, Heaven
Ism. Peace, no more ! I'll keep your heart, and credit it; Keep you your word. When will you come again, friend ? For this time we have woo'd indifferently : I would fain see you, when I dare be bolder.
Ant. Why, any night. Only, dear noble mistress. Pardon three days : my uncle Julio Has bound me to attend him upon promise, Upon expectation too : we have rare sports there. Rare country sports ; I would you could but see 'em ! Dare you so honour me?
Ism. I dare not be there ; You know I dare not ; no, I must not, friend. Where I may come with honourable freedom — Alas, I am ill too ! we in love
Ant. You flout me.
^ Arnin.'] Both the foUos " Ism." ; and so the modern editors.
SCF.NRI.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 221
Ism. Trust me, I do not ; I speak truth ; T am sickly, And am in love ; but yon must be physician.
Ant. I '11 make a plaster of my best affection.
Ism. Be gone : we have supp'd; I hear the people stir : Take my best Avishes. Give me no cause, Antonio, To curse this happy night.
Ant. I '11 lose my life first. A thousand kisses !
Ism. Take ten thousand back again !
Mart. I am dumb with admiration \_Aside] . — Shall wc go, sir? [Exeunt Antonio and Martine.
Ism. Dost thou know his uncle ?
Amin. No, but I can ask, cousin.
Ism. I '11 tell thee more of that. Come, let's to bed both; And give me handsome dreams. Love, I beseech thee !
Amin. H'as given you a handsome subject.
Ism. Pluck-to the windows. [Exeunt ^' above.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — The countrij. Before the mill of Franio.
Enter Bustofa, with a paper. Bust, [reads] The thundering seas '', ivhose ivatery fire ivashes the whiting -mops^, The gentle whale, whose feet so fell flies o'er the mountain-^ tops
" Exeunf^ After tliis, the first folio has " Six Chaires placed at the Arras ", — a direction addressed to the property-man, that he might have seats ready for Julio, Antonio, Martine, Gostanzo, Gii'aldo, and Philippo dvu'ing the interlude in the following act.
•' Tlic tlmnderiiuj seas, &c ] I may just notice that T have given this passage as two verses (instead of foui-), because it is so arranged when Bustofa after- wards speaks it in the character of Paris, and when Antonio exclaims " These are lonr) lines."
« tvliiting-mo'pt>\ i. e. young whitings (as before, p. 1.3r>).
' mountain-} Here both tlie folios " Mountains " ; but twice afterwards " Mountain".
222 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act n.
Fra. [wiihin] Boy ! Bust. The thundering
Fra, [withinl Why, looy ! Bustofa ! Bust. Here I am. — The gentle whale —
Enter Franio.
Fra. Oh, are you here, sir ? where ^s your sister ?
Bust. TJie gentle whale flies o'er the mountain-tops
Fra. Where 's your sister, man ?
Bust. Washes the whiting-mops
Fra. Thou liest ; she has none to wash. Mops ! the boy is half way out of his wits, sure. Sirrah, who am I ?
Bust. The thundering seas
Fra. Mad, stark mad !
Bust. Will you not give a man leave to con ?
Fra. Yes, and ^fess too, ere I have done with you. Sirrah, am I your father ?
Bust. The question is too hard for a child : ask me any thing that I have learned, and I '11 answer you.
Fra. Is that a hard question, — Sirrah, am not I your father ?
Bust. If I had my mother-wit, I could teU you.
Fra. Are you a thief?
Btist. So far forth as the son of a miller.
Fra. WiU you be hanged ?
Bust. Let it go by eldership. — The gentle whale
Fra. Sirrah, lay by your foolish study there. And beat your brains about your own affairs ; Or
Bust. I thank you : you 'd have me go under the sails, and beat my brains about your mill? a natural father you are !
Fra. I charge you go not to the sports to-day : Last night I gave you leave ; now I recant.
Bust. Is the wind turned since last night ?
Fra. Marry, is it, sir : go no fai1;her than my miU ; There 's my command upon you.
Bust. I may go round about, then, as your mill does? I
SCENE I.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 223
will sec youi' mill gelded, and his stoues fried in steaks, ere I deceive the country so. Have I not my part to study? how shall the sports ^o forward, if T be not there ?
Fra. They'll want their fool indeed, if thou be'st not there.
Bust. Consider that, and go yourself.
Fra. I have fears, sir, that I cannot utter : You go not, nor your sister ; there 's my charge.
Bmt. The price of youi- golden thumb ^ cannot hold me.
[C/-// of hounds within.
Fra. Ay, this was sport that 1 liave tightly lov'd : I coidd have kept company with the liounds
Bicst. You are fit for no other company yet.
Fra. Run with the hare, and been in the whore's tail, i' faith.
Bust. That was before I was born : I did ever mistrust I was a bastard, because lapis is in the singular number ^vith me.
Enter Otrante and Gerasto.
Otr. Leave thou that game", Gerasto, and chase liere ; Do thou but follow it witli my desires, Thou 'It not return home empty.
Ger. I am prepar'd. My lord, "\vith advantages'": and see, Y'onder 's the subject I must work upon.
Otr. Her brother ? 'tis. Methinks it should be easy : That gross compound cannot l)ut ditfuse The soul in such a latitude of ease. As to make dull her faculties and lazy : Wliat vnt, above the least, can be in him. That reason ties together ?
Ger. I have prov'd it, sir, -
' golden thumb] " In Chaucer's chai-acter of the Miller are the following lines ; ' Wei coude he stolen corne, and toUen tliries. And yet he had a thomb of gold, parde'. [Cant. Talcs, v. 564.] Dr. Morell and Mr. Tyrwhit both suppose that Chaucer alluded to the old i>ro- verb, ' Every honest miller has a thumb of gohV ; to which they reply in Somersetshire, ' None but a cuckold can see it.' To the same proverb our author evidently refers in Bustofa's speech. See Ray's Proverbs.^'' Reed. K game] So the second folio. — The first folio "gim". '' with advantages] Sjinpson silently printed " with all advantages ".
224 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [mi n.
And know the depth of it : I have the way
To make him follow me a hackney-pace,
With all that flesh about him ; yes, and drag
His sister after him. [CV?/ of hounds within.
This baits the old one : Rid you him, and leave me to the other.
Otr. 'Th well [Exit Gerasto]. — Oh, Franio, the good day to you ! You were not wont to hear this music standing ; The beagle and the bugle you have lov'd. In the first rank of huntsmen.
Bust. The dogs cry out of' him now.
Fra. Sirrah, leave your barking ; I '11 bite you else.
Bust. Cur, cur ?
Fra. Slave, dost call me dog ?
Otr. Oh, fie, sir ! he speaks Latin to you ; he would know why you '11 bite him.
Bust. Responds, cur 7 — You see his understanding, my lord.
Fra. I shall have a time to curry you for this. — But, my lord, to answer you : the days have been I must have footed it before this hornpipe. Though I had hazarded my mill a-fire. And let the stones grind empty ; but those dancings Are done with me : I have good will to it still. And that 's the best I can do.
Otr. Come, come, you shall be hors'd ; Your company deserves him ; though you kill him, Run him blind, I care not.
Bust. He '11 do 't o' purpose, my lord, to bring him up to the mill.
Fra. Do not tempt me too far, my lord.
Otr. There's a foot i' the stirrop ; I'll not leave you now: You shall see the game fall once again.
Fra. Well, my lord, I '11 make ready my legs for you, and try 'em once a-horseback. — Sirrah, my charge ; keep it.
\_Exit.
Bust. Yes, when you pare down your dish for conscience-
i o/] i. e. (as Weber saw) on. — Sympson, at Seward's suggestion, printed " for ", — ^Mason approving !
SCENE I.] THE MAID IN THE MILL 225
sake, when your thumb's coined J into bonco el Uyulis, wlicu you are a true man, miller '\
Otr. What 's the matter, Bustofa ?
Bust. My lord, if you have e'er a drunkeu jade that has the staggers, that will fall twice the height of our mill with him, set him o' the back on him ; a galled jennet that Mill M'inch him out o' the saddle, and break one on's' necks or a shank of him (there was a fool going that way, but the ass had better luck) ; or one of yoiu' brave Barbarics, that would pass the Straits, and run into his own country with him : the first Moor he met would cut his throat for complexion's sake ; there 's as deadly feiul between a ]\Ioor and a miller, as between black and white.
Otr. Fie, fie ! this is unnatural, Bustofa, Unless on some strong cause.
Bust. Be judge, my lord : I am studied in my part ; the Julian feast is to-day, the country expects me; I speak all the dumb-shows ; my sister chosen for a n}Tnj)h — The gentle whale, whose feet so fell — Cry mercy ! that was some of my part : but liis charge is, to keep the mill, and disappoint the revels.
Otr. Indeed, there it speaks shrewdly for thee, the country expecting.
Biist. Ay, and for mine own grace too.
Otr. Yes, and being studied too, and the main speaker too.
Bust. The main ! Avhy, all my speech lies in the main and the diy ground together, — The thundering seas, ivhose, &c.
Otr. Nay, then, thou must go; thou 'It be much con- demn'd else : But then, o' the other side, obedience.
Bust. Obedience! But speak your conscience now, my lord ; am not I past asking blessing at these years ? speak as you 're a lord, if you had a miller to your father.
Otr. I must yield to you, Bustofa ; your reasons are so
i when your thvmh 's coined, &c.] See note, p. 223.
k wJien yoxi are a true man, millerl So Sjiiipson rightly pointed tlic passage — " a tnte man''' meaning — an honest man. — Both the folios have " W/un you arc a true man-miller " ; and so the Editors of 1778 and V/fbcr ! !
' 071 's] i. c, of his : so immediately before — "on him" for of him. VOL. IX. Q
226 THE MAID IN THE MILL, [act ii.
strong, I cannot contradict. This I tliink, if j^ou go, your sister ought to go along with you.
Bust. There I stumble now : she is not at age,
Otr. Why, she ^s fifteen, and upwards.
Bust. Thereabouts.
Otr. That ^s woman's ripe age ; as full as thou art at one- and-twenty : she 's manable, is she not ?
Bust. I think not : poor heart, she was never tried, in my conscience. 'Tis a coy thing ; she will not kiss you a clown, not if he would kiss her.
Otr. What, man ?
Bust. Not if he would kiss her, I say.
Otr. Oh, 'twas cleanlier than I expected. — Well, sir, I '11 leave you to your own ; but my opinion is. You may take her along. — This is half way ; The rest, Gerasto, — and I hunt my prey'". \_ Aside.
Bust. Away with the old miller, my lord ! and the mill strikes sail" presently. \Exit Otrante.
Enter Pedro, with Gerasto disguised as a blind Ballad- Singer. Ger. [sinffs]
Come follow me, you country lasses, And you shall see such sport as passes " : You shall dance, and I will sing ; Pedro, he shall rub the string ; Each shall have a loose-bodied gown Of green, and laugh till you lie down. Come follow me, come follow, &c.
Enter Florimel.
Bust. Oh, sweet Diego, the sweetest Diego ! stay. — Sister
Florimel
Flor. What 's that, brother ?
™ This is half way ;
The rest, Gerasto, — and I hunt my prey] " The pimctuation is Mason's, who ex- plains the passage thus—' My business is half accomplished ; the rest I leave to Gerasto, with whose aid I shall hunt down the object of my pursuit.' " Weber.
" stnlces saW] " i. e. wdll ce.ase to go." Mason.
" passes] i. e. surpasses.
SCENE 11.] THE MAID IN THE .MILL. 227
Bust. Didst not hear Dicg;o? liciir him, and thou 'It he ravished.
Flor. I have heard him sing, yet nnravishcMl, bi-other.
Bust. You had the better luck^ sistei-. I Avas raAished by mine own consent. Come away ; for the sports !
Flor. I have tlie fear of a fatlier on me, brotlier.
Bust. Out ! the thief is as safe as in his mill ; he 's hunting with our great landlord, the Don Otrante. — Strike up, Diego!
Floi\ But say he return before us, where 's our excuse ?
Bust. Strike up, Diego ! — Hast no strings to thy apron ?
Flor. Well, the fault lie upon your head, brother.
Bust. jSIy faults never mount so high, girl ; they rise but to my middle at most. — Strike up, Diego !
Ger. Follow me by the ear ; I '11 lead thee on, Bustofa, and pretty Florimel thy sister : oh, that I could see her !
Bu.st. Oh, Diego, there 's two pities upon thee ! gi-eat pity thou art bhnd, and as great a pity thou canst not see.
Ger. [sings']
You shall have crowns of roses, daisies, Buds where the honey-maker grazes p ; You shall taste the goldeu thighs. Such as in wax-chamber lies : What fruit ' please you taste, freely pull, Till you have all youi- bellies full. Come follow me, &c.
Bust. Oh, Diego ! the Don was not so sweet when he per- fumed the steeple'. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A hall in the country-house of Julio.
Enter Antonio and Martine. Mart. Why, how now, friend ? thou art not lost again ? Ant. Not lost ! why, all the world 's a wilderness ; Some places peopled more by braver beasts
P grazes'] Both the folios " gazes ". 1 ffuif] The modern editors silently prmt " fruits".
"■ Oh, Die;jo I the Don was not so sweet when he perfumed the steeplr] See note, vol. iii. 274, and p. 142 of the present vol.
Q 2
228 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act ii.
Than others are ; but faces, faces, man ; May a man be caught with faces ?
Mart. Without wonder, ^Tis odds against him : may not a good face Lead a man about by the nose ? alas. The nose is but a part against the whole !
Ant. But is it possible that two faces Should be so twinnM in form, complexion, Figure, aspect, that neither wen, nor mole. The table of the brow, the eyes^ lustre. The lips' cherry, neither the blush nor smile. Should give the one distinction from the other ? Does Nature work in moulds ?
Mart. Altogether; We are all one mould, one dust.
Ant. Thy reason's mouldy : I speak from the form, thou the matter. Why, Was it not ever one of Nature's glories, Nay, her great piece of wonder, that amongst .
So many millions millions of her works |
She left the eye distinction, to cull out i
The one from other ; yet all one name, the face ? i
Mart. You must compare 'em by some other part |
Of the body, if the face cannot do 't. f
Ant. Didst ask her name? f
Mart. Yes, and who gave it her ; And'what they promis'd more, besides a spoon. And what apostle's picture ^• she is christen'd too. In token wherefore' she is call'd Isabella;
^ And what they pfomis'd more, besides a spoon, And what apostle's 'picture'] Here Weber makes the following quotation -jm
from Steevens's note on Shakespeare's Henry VIII., act v. sc. 2 (which I have slightly altered) : " Spoons, with the figure of an apostle terminating the handle of each (and hence called apostle-spoons), were formerly the usual gifts of sponsors at christenuigs. The better sort were of silver-gilt. Such persons as were at once opulent and generous gave the whole twelve ; those who were either more moderately rich or liberal escaped at the expence of the four evano-eUsts ; or even sometimes contented themselves wth presenting one spoon only, which exhibited the figure of any saint in honour of whom the child received its name."
* wherefore] Sympson silently printed " whereof " ; and so Weber.
scKNE u.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 229
The daughter of a country plough-swain by. If this be not true, she lies.
Ant, Slic cannot : It would be seen a blister on her lip. Should falsehood touch it, it is so tender. Had her name held, 't had been Ismenia, And not another of her name.
Mart. Shall I speak?
Ant. Yes, If thou 'It speak truth. Is she not wondi'ous like ?
Mart. As two garments of tlie same fashion, Cut from the same piece ; yet, if any excel. This has the first; and m my judgment 'tis so.
Ant. 'Tis my opinion.
Mart. Were it the face "VVliere mine eye [s] should dwell, I would please both With this, as soon as one with the other.
Ant. And yet the other is the case of this" : Had I not looVd upon Ismenia, I ne'er had stay'd" beyond good-morrow's time In view of this.
Mai't. Would I could leave him here ! 'Twere a free passage to Ismenia. I must now blow, as to put out the fire. Yet kindle 't more [Aside] . — You not consider, sir, The great disparity is in their bloods. Estates and fortunes : there is the rich beauty, "Wliich this poor homeliness is not endow'd with ; There's diff'erence enough.
Ant. The least of all ; Equality is no rule in Love's grammar.
" case of this] Seward proposed to read "cause of this;" which Weber adopted ; and Mason observes, — " 1 agree with Seward in reading ' cause' ui- stead of ' case ' ; as Antonio says, that, had he not looked upon Ismenia before, he should not have dwelt upon the view of Isabella. So that his love for Ismenia was the cause of his attachment to Isabella." But, as " Ihis" mi- doubtedly means— Mis woman (compare the preceding line, and tiie last line of the present speech), I cannot see how Seward's proposed reading, " the cause of this," could have the raeanmg which he and Mason would make it bear. 'I'lie poet (Rowley evidently) seems to use "case" here m the sense of — fellow.
' stay\l] Weber chose to print "stray'd".
230 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act ii.
That sole unliappiness is left to princes^ To marry blood : we are free disposers. And have the power to equalize their bloods Up to oiu' own ; we cannot keep it back : 'Tis a due debt from us.
Mart. Ay, sir, had you No father, nor uncle, nor such hinderers. You might do with yourself at your pleasure ; But, as it is
Ant. As it is, 'tis nothing : Their powers will come too late, to give me back The yesterday I lost.
Mart. Indeed, to say sooth, £
Your opposition from the other part fl
Is of more force ; there you run the hazard Of every hour a life, had you supply ; You meet your dearest ^^' enemy in love With all his hate about him : 'twill be more hard For your Ismenia to come home to you. Than you to go to country Isabel.
Ant. Tush ! 'tis not fear removes me.
Mart. No more ! your uncle.
Enter Julio.
Julio. Oh, the good hour upon you, gentlemen ! Welcome, nephew : speak it to your friend, sir; It may be happier recciv'd from you, In his acceptance.
Ant. I made bold, uncle, To do it before ; and I think he believes it.
Mart. 'Twas never doubted, sir.
Julio. Here are sports, dons. That you must look on with a loving eye. And without censure, unless it be giving My country neighbours' loves their yearly offerings. That must not be refus'd, though 't be more pain To the spectator than the painful actor ; It will abide no more test than the tinsel
■* dearest] i. e. dii-est, most hurtful (from tlie old English verb dcrc to hurt, ■ — A. S. derian).
scKNK II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 231
We clad our masques in for an hour's wearing, Or the livery-lace sometimes on the cloaks of A great don's followers : I speak no further Than our own country, sir.
Mart. Foi" my part, sir, The more absiu'd, 't shall be the better welcome.
JuHo. You'll find the guest you look for. — I heard, cousin, You were at Toledo tV other day.
Ant. Not late, sir.
Julio. Oh fie ! must I be plainer ? you chang'd the point With Terzo and Lisaiu'o, two of the stock Of om' antagonists, the Bellidcs.
Ant. A mere profi'er, sii*; the prevention Was quick with us; we had done somewhat else. This gentleman Avas engag'd in 't.
Julio. I am the enemy To his foe for it. That wildfire will crave More than fan- water to quench it, I suspect : Whence it will come, I know not.
Ant. I was about a gentle reconcilement ; But I do fear I shall go back again.
Jul. Come, come ; the sports are coming on us : nay.
Enter Gostanzo, Giraldo, Philippo, and others. I have more guests to grace it. — Welcome, Don Gostanzo, Giraldo, Phihppo ! Seat, seat, all ! [Music.
Enter a Boy as Cupid.
Cupid. Love is little, and therefore I present him ; Love is a fire ^, therefore you may lament him.
Mart. Alas, poor Love ! who are they that can quench him?
Jidio. He 's not without those members ; fear him not.
Cupid. Love shoots, therefore I bear his boiv about ; And Love is blind, therefore my eyes are out.
* Love is afire'] "A quibble is inteuded upon the word 'afitr,^ — (i-fi>'f, wliicli is commonly used to express on fire. The presenter of Cupid is supposed to blunder ; and, instead of saying that Love is ' afire ', says that Love is ' a-fire,' which rendered him an object of lamentation, and makes Martine ask, who are they that can quench him 2" Mason. It does not appear that Cnpiil makes any blunder, though Martuie chooses to understand him as if he had siid " n-Jirc" instead of " a fire."
232 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act ii.
Mart. I never heard Love give reason for what he did before.
Cupid. Let such as can see, see such as cannot. Behold, Our goddesses all three strive for the ball of gold ! And here fair Pai'is comes, the hopeful youth of Troy, Queen Hecub's^ darling son, king Priam's only joy.
Enter Bustofa as Paris,
Mart. Is this Paris ? I should have taken him for Hector rather.
Bust. Paris at this time : pray you, hohl yom' prating.
Ant. Paris can be angry.
Julio. Oh, at this time you must pardon him ; he comes as a judge.
Mart. [Heaven's )"] mercy on all that look^ upon him, say I.
Bust. The thundering seas, whose watery fire washes the whiting-mops ^, The gentle whale, whose feet so fell flies o'er the mountain-tops, No roars so fierce, no throats so deep, no howls can bring such
fears. As Paris can, if garden from he call his dogs and bears ^.
Mart. Ay, those they were that I feared all this while.
Bust. Yes, Jack-an-apes
Mart. I thank you, good Paris.
Bust. You may hold your peace, and stand further out o' the way, then : the lines will fall where they light. —
Yes, Jack-an-apes he hath to sport '^, and faces make like
mirth, TFhilst bellowing bulls, the horned beasts, do toss from ground
to earth: Blind bear there is, as Cupid blind
" HccuVs'] Sjanpson silently printed " Hecuba's " ; and so his successors. — In the notes on Shakespeare's All's iccll that ends well, act i. sc. 3 (where the Clown suigs a fragment of a ballad containing the words "king Priam's joy"), this and the preceding line of our text are cited as from an " old ballad " I !
y [Heaveii's'] A break here in both the fohos.
^ looh] Both the folios " looks ".
" whiting-mops'] See note, p. 221.
h As Paris can, 'If garden from he call his dogs and hears] " An allusion to Paris-garden on the Bankside, then celebrated for bear-baiting." Weber.
•^ to sport] Both the folios " ?o sports". — " Wc should read 'to sporf, mean- ing that he had an ape to sport and make faces." Mason.
SCENE 11] * THE MAID IN THE MILL. 2;n
Ant. That bear would be whipped for losing of his eyes. Bust. Be-ivhipped man may see : But ive present no such content, but nymphs such as they /je. Ant. These are loug liues. Mart. Can you blame him, leading bulls and bears in 'cm ?
Enter a Shepherd '', with Ismenia as Juno, Aminta as Pallas,
Florimel as Venus, atid three Nymphs attending.
Bust. Go, Cupid blind, conduct the dumb ; for ladies must
not speak here .-
Let shepherds sing with dancing feet, and cords of music break
here. [Song.
Now, ladies, fight, ivith heels so light ; by lot your luck must
fall, Where Paris please, to do you ease, and give the golden ball.
[Dance.
Mart. If you played Paris noAV, Antonio, where would you bestow it ?
Ant. I prithee, friend, take the fidl freedom of thought, but no words.
Mart. 'Protest there 's a third, which by her habit should personate Venus, and, by consequence of the story, receive the honom-'s prize : and, were I a Paris, there it should be. Do you note her ?
Ant. No ; mine eye is so fixed, I cannot move it.
Cupid. The dance is ended ; noio to judgment, Paris.
Bust. Here, Juno, hei'e I — But stay ; I do espy A pretty gleek '' coining from Pallas' eye : Here, Pallas, here ! — Yet stay again ; methinks I see the eye of lovely Venus winks : Oh, close them both ! shut in those golden eyne ; And I will kiss those sweet blind cheeks of thine. Juno is angry ; yes, and Pallas frowns : Would Paris now were gone from Ida's dotvns !
d Enter a Shepherd] Both the folios " Enter Shepherd singing " : but he evidently does not sing till after the second line of the next speech. It would seem that we ought, either in this stage-direction to read " Shepherds," or in the second line of the next speech " shepherd."
« r/led] Ecjuivalent here (I believe) to— ensnaring, captivating glance. Con- cerning this word, see Nares's Gloss, and Richardsons Diet.
234 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act u.
They both are fair ; hut Venus has the mole, The fairest hair, and sweetest dimple-hoJe : To her, or her, or her, or her, or neither ? Can one n^ian please three ladies all together ? No ; take it, Venus ; toss it at thy pleasure ; TJiou art the lovef s friend beyond his measure.
[Gives her the ajjple.
Julio. Paris has done what man can do, pleas'd one : Who can do more ?
Ma7't. Stay ; here 's another person.
Enter Gerasto as Mars.
Ger. Come, lovely Venus ; leave this lower orb, And mount with Mars up to his glorious sphere.
Bust. How now ! what 's he ?
Flor. I ^m ignorant what to do, sir.
Ger. Thy silver yoke of doves are in the team. And thou shall fly th [o] rough Apollo's beam : I'll see thee seated in thy golden throne. And hold with Mars a sweet conjunction.
[Exit ivith !Florimel.
Bust. Ha ! what fellow 's this has carried away my sister Venus ? he never rehearsed his part with me before.
Jidio. What follows now, Prince Paris ?
Flo. [within^ Help, help, help !
Bust. Hue and cry ! I think, sir, this is Venus' voice, mine own sister Florimers.
Mart. Wliat, is there some tragic act behind ?
Bust. No, no, altogether comical ; Mars and Venus are in the old conjunction, it seems.
Mart. ^Tis very improper, then ; for Venus never cries out when she conjoins with Mars.
Bust. That's true indeed; they are out of their parts, sure : it may be 'tis the book-holder's^ fault ; I '11 go see.
[Exit.
Julio. How like you our country revels, gentlemen ?
Gost., Gir., &c. Oh, they commend themselves, sir.
Ant, Methinks now
' book-holder^s] i. c. prompter s.
SCENE 1!.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 235
Juno and Minerva should take revenge on Paris ; It cannot end without it.
Mart. I did expect, Instead of Mars, the storm-gaoler /Eolus ; And Juno proffering her Deiopeia^ As satisfaction to the blustering god. To send his tossers forth.
Julio. It may so follow ; Let 's not prejudicate the historj'.
Re-enter Bustoi-a.
Bust. Oh, oh, oh, oh !
Julio. So, here 's a passion'^ towards.
Bust. Help, help, if you be gentlemen ! my sister, my Venus ! she ^s stolen aAvay.
Julio. The story changes from our expectation.
Bust. Help ! my father the miller will hang me else. God Mars is a bawdy villain : he said she should ride upon doves : she 's horsed, she ^s horsed, whether she will or no.
Mart. Siu'e, I think he 's serious.
Bmt. She^s horsed upon a double gelding, and a stone- horse in the breech of her : the poor wench cries " help," and I cry " help," and none of you will help.
Julio. Speak, is it the show ? or dost thou bawl ?
Bust. A pox on the ball ! my sister bawls, and I bawl. Either bridle horse and follow, or give me a halter to hang myself: I cannot run so fast as a hog.
Julio. ^Vhy", follow me : I '11 fiU the country with pursuit, But I will find the thief. My house thus abus'dJ ?
[Exit ivith GosT., Gir., Phil., and others.
Bust. 'Tis my house that 's abused ; the sister of my flesh and blood : oh, oh ! [Exit.
First Nymph. 'Tis time wc all sliift for ourselves, if this be serious.
8 Juno profferinr/ her Deiopeia, &c.] See Virgil, ^En. 1. 72.
■> apassion'\ " i. e. apathetic speech. In The Old Law, by Massingcr, Miil- dleton, and Rowley, Lysandei", after the mock-tragic speech of Gnotho, exclaims ' This pcMS(0)t has given some satisfaction yet.' [Massinger's trorks, iv. ,575, cd. 1813]." Weber.
' Why} The first folio " Wic ".—Omitted in the second folio. (At j). '2:),0, " Why, 'tis reasonable," stands in the first folio, " Wic," &c.)
i thus aiiw'rf] Qy. " abus'd thus " ?
236 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act ii.
Sec. Nymph. However, I '11 be gone.
Third Nymph. And I. [Exeunt three Nymphs.
Ant. You need not fright your beauties, pretty souls. With the least pale complexion of a fear.
Mart. Juno has better courage, and Minerva's more discreet.
Ism. Alas, my courage was so counterfeit. It might have been struck from me with a feather ! Juno ne'er had so weak a presenter.
Amin. Sure, I was ne'er the wiser for Minerva, That I find yet about me. [Antonio whispers Ismenia.
Is7n. My dwelling, sir ? 'Tis a poor yeoman's roof, scarce a league off. That never sham'd me yet.
A?it. Your gentle pardon ! I vow my erring eyes had almost cast you For one of the most mortal enemies That our family has.
Ism. I am sorry, sir, I am so like your foe : 'twere fit I hasted From your ojffended sight.
Ant. Oh, mistake not ! It was my error, and I do confess it. You '11 not believe you 're welcome ; nor can I speak it ; But there 's my friend can tell you ; pray, hear him.
Mart. Shall I tell her, sir ? I 'm glad of the employment.
Ant. A kinswoman to that beauty ?
Amin. Akin to her, sir ; But nothing to her beauty.
Ant. Do not wrong it ; It is not far behind her.
Amin. Her hinder parts Are not far ofi^, indeed, sir.
Mart. Let me but kiss you with his ardour now. You shall feel how he loves you.
Ism. Oh, forbear ! 'Tis not the fashion with us. But would you Persuade me that he loves me ?
Mart. 1 '11 warrant you. He dies in 't ; and that were witness enough on 't.
SCENE 11] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 237
Ism. Love me, sir ! can yon tell me for what reason ?
Mart. Fie! Avill you ask me? that which you have about you.
Ism. I know nothing, sir.
Mart. Let him find it, then : He constantly believes you have the thing That he must love you for ; much is apparent, A sweet and lovely beauty.
Ism. So, sir; pray \o\\, Shew me one thing : did he ne'er love before ? I know you are his bosom-counsellor. Nay, then, I see your answer is not ready ; I ^11 not believe you, if you study farther.
Mart. Shall I speak ti'uth to you ?
Ism. Or speak no more.
Mart. There was a smile thrown at him, from a lady. Whose deserts might buy him treble, and lately He receiv'd it ; and I know where he lost it, — In this face of yours : I know his heart 's within you.
Ism. May I know her name ?
Mart. In your ear you may. With vow of silence.
Amin. He '11 not give over, sir ; If he speak for you, he *U sure speed for you.
Ant. But that is not the answer to my question.
Amin. You are the first, in my virgin-conscience. That ever spoke love to her : oh, my heart !
Ant. How do you?
Amin. Nothing, sir ; but would I had A better face ! How well your pulse beats !
Ant. Healthfully; Does it not ?
Amin. It thumps prettily, methinks.
Ism. Alack, I hear it with much pity ! how great Is your fault, too, in Avrong to the good lady !
Mart. You forget the difficult passage he has to her ; A hell of feud 's between the families.
Ism. And that has often Love wrought by advantage To peaceful reconcilement.
238 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act ii.
Mart. There impossible.
Ism. This way 'tis worser ; it may seed again in her Unto another generation ; For where, poor lady, is her satisfaction ?
Mart. It comes in me : to be truth, I love her (I '11 go no farther for comparison) As dear as he loves you. Ism. How if she love not ?
Mart. Tush, be that my pains ! You know not Avhat art I have those ways.
Ism. Beshrow you ! you have practised upon me : Well, speed me here, and you with your Ismenia ! Mart. Go, the condition 's drawn, ready dated ; There wants but your hand to 't. A7nin. Truly, you have taken Great pains, sir.
Mart. A friendly part, no more, sweet beauty. Amin. They are happy, su-, have such friends as you are : But do you know you have done well in this ? How will his allies receive it ? She, though I say 't. Is of no better blood than I am.
Mart. There I leave it ; I am at farthest that way.
Ism. You shall extend your vows no larger now : My heart calls you mine own, and that 's enough. Reason, I know, would have all yet concealed. I shall not leave you unsaluted long, Either by pen or person.
Ant. You may discoiu'se With me, when you think you 're alone ; I shall Be present with you.
Ism. Come, cousin, will you walk ? Amin. Alas, I was ready long since ! In conscience. You would with better will yet stay behind.
Ism. Oh, Love, I never thought thou 'dst been so blind !
[Exeunt Ismenia and Aminta. Mart. You '11 answer this, sir. Ant. If e'er it be spoke on : I purpose not to propound the question.
i
I
SCENE II.] THE MAID liN THE MILL. 2.19
Tie-enter Julio.
Julio. 'Tis true the poor knave said : some raWslier, Some of Lust's bloocl-liouuds, have seiz'd upon her ; The girl is hurried, as the devil were mth 'em, And help'd tlieu' speed.
Mart. It may be not so ill, sii'. A well-prepar'd lover may do as much In hot blood as this, and perform it honestly.
Julio. What ! steal away a virgin 'gainst her will ?
Mart. It may be any man's case ; despise nothing : And that 's a thief of a good quality, Most commonly he brings his theft home again. Though with a little shame.
Julio. There's a charge by't Fain upon me : Paris (the miller's son). Her brother, dares not venture home again. Till better tidings follow of his sister.
Ant. You're the more beholding' to the mischance, sir: Had I gone a-boot-haling •>, I should as soon Have stoln him as his sister : marry, then, To render him back in the same plight he is May be costly ; his flesh is not maintain'd with little.
Julio. I think the poor knave wiU pine away ; he cries All-to-be-pitied yonder.
Mart. Pray you, sir, let 's go see him : I should laugli To see him cry, sure.
Julio. Well, you are meriy, sir. — Antonio, keep this charge (I have fears Move me to lay it on you) ; pray, forbear The ways of yoiu' enemies, the Bellides : I have reason for my injunction, sir. [Exit.
Tie-enter Aminta, disguised as a Page, tci/k a letter. Ant. To me, sir ? from whom ? Amin. A friend, I dare vow, sir. Though on the enemy's part ; the lady Ismenia.
' beholdinff] i. e. beholden, — as freqiieiitlv before. '' a-hoot-Jialim/l See note, vol. vii. 220.
240 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act hi
Mart. Take heed ; blush not too deep. Let me advise you In your answer ; it must be done heedfully.
Ant. I should not see a masculine, in peace, Out of that house.
Amin. Alas, I am a child, sir ! Your hates cannot last till I wear a sword.
Ant. Await me for your answer.
Mart. He must see her, To manifest his shame ; 'tis my advantage : While our blood 's under us, we keep above ; But then we fall, when we do fall in love. [Aside.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — A room in the country-house of Julio.
Enter Julio and Franio.
Fra. My lord, my lord, your house hath injur'd me, Robb'd me of all the joys I had on earth.
Julio. Where wert thou brought up, fellow ?
Fra. In a mill ; You may perceive it by my loud exclaims. Which must rise higher yet.
Julio. Obstreperous carl^. If thy throat's tempest could o'er-turn my house. What satisfaction were it for thy child ? Turn thee the right way to thy journey's end : Wilt have her where she is not ?
Fra. Here was she lost. And here must I begin my footing after ; From whence, until I meet a power to punish, I win not rest. You are not quick to grief; Your hearing 's a dead sense. Were your's the loss. Had you a daughter stoln, perhaps be-whor'd,
' carl'\ "i. e. churl, clowu." Ed. 1778.
SCENE I.J THE MAID IN THE MILL. 241
(For to wluit otiier cud sliould come tlic tliicr?) You'd play the miller theu, be loud aud high ; But, l)eing uot a sorrow of your owu, You have uo help uor pity for auothcr.
Julio. Oh, thou hast op'd a sluice was long shut up, And let a flood of grief in ! a buried grief Thy voice hath wak'd again, a grief as old As likely 'tis thy child is : friend, I tell thee, I did once lose a daiighter.
Fra. Did you, sir ? Beseech you, then, how did yoii bear her loss ?
Jidio. With thy grief trebled.
Fra. But was she stoln from you ?
Julio. Yes, by devouring thieves, from whom cannot Ever return a satisfaction : The wild beasts had her in her swathing-clothcs.
Fra. Oh, much good do 'em with her !
Julio. Away, tough chiu'l !
Fra. Why, she was better eaten than my child. Better by beasts than beastly men devoured : They took away a life, no honour, from her ; Tliose beasts might make a saint of her ; but these Will make my child a deWl. But was she, sir. Your only daughter ?
Julio. I ne'er had other, friend.
Enter Gillian.
Gil. AVhere are you, man ? your l)usincss lies not here. Yom- daughter 's in the pound ; I have found where : 'TwiU cost you dear, her freedom.
Fra. I '11 break it down, And free her without pay : horse-locks nor chains Shall hold her from rae. [Gillian whispers him.
Julio. I'll take this relief: I now have time to speak alone Avith grief. [Exit.
Fra. How ! my landlord ! he is lord of my lands. But not my cattle : I '11 have her figain, Gill.
Gil. You are not mad upon the sudden now ?
Fra. No, Gill; I have been mad these five houi's:
VOL. IX. R
242 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act hi-
I ^11 sell my mill, and buy a Roaring [Meg J] ;
I ^11 batter down his house, and make a stews on ^t.
Gil. Will you gather up your wits a little, And hear me? The king's near by, in progress'* ; Here I have got our supplication drawn. And there 's the way to help us.
Fra. Give it me, Gill : I will not fear to give it to the king. To his own hands, God bless him, will I give it ; And he shall set the law upon their shoulders. And hang 'em all that had a hand in it.
Gil. Where 's your son ?
Fra. He shall be hanged in flotches' : The dogs shall eat him in Lent ; there 's cats' meat And dogs' meat enough about him.
Gil. Sure, the poor girl is the count's whore by this time.
Fra. If she be the count's whore, the whore's count shall Pay for it ; he shall pay for a new maidenhead.
Gil. You are so violous ! — This I 'm resolv'd ; If she be a whore once, I '11 renounce her. You know, if every man had his right, she is None of our child, but a mere foundling (And I can guess the owner for a need too) ; We have but foster'd her.
) a Roarimj [Mcfj'\ The word " Mecj " has dropt out of both the foUos. Sympson did not perceive that any thing was wanting : the Editors of 1778 and Weber got no fui'ther than marking the omission by a bi'eak. — Concerning the celebrated piece of ordnance called Roaring Meg, various passages, besides the following, might be adduced from our eax'ly winters ;
" With thondryng noyes was shot of roeryng Meg, And throw the thickst she thompt orethawrt the waies," &c. Churchyard's Siege of Udenbrotigh Castell, fol. 94 — CMxipes, ed. 1575. " 0 Cupid, grant that my blushing prove not a linstock, and give fire too suddenly to the Roaring Meg of my desu-es ! " Middleton's Blurt, Master Con- stable, actii. so. 2, Wo^'lcs, i. 263, ed. Dyce.
" Ever since guns came up ; the first was your roaring Meg." Middleton and Rowley's Fair Quarrel, act ii. sc. 2 — Ibid. iii. 485.
" Or the rough rumbling roaring Meg of Barwicke ".
To the honour of 0 Toole, p. 19,— Taylor's Worhes, ed. 1630. " The gi'eat long Dutchman, and roaring Marget a Barwicke ".
The Odcomhian Banquet, &c., 1611, sig. p. I' in progress'] i.e. travelling in state to visit diffei'ent parts of his dominions. ' flotches'] i.e. flitches. So the first folio. — The second folio "flitches ;" and so the modern editors.
SCENE II.] THE MAIL) IN THE MILL. 'ii
Fra. Gill, uo more of that ! I '11 cut yoiir tongue out, if you tell those talcs.
[A Jluio-ish mtliin. Hark, hark ! these toters'" tell us the king's coming. Get you gone; I'll see if I can find him. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — An apartment in the royal residence". Enter Lisauro, Terzo, Pedro, and jMoncado.
Lis, Does the king remove to-day ?
Terzo. So say " the hai'bingcrs. And keeps his way on to Valentia ; There ends the progress.
Pedro. He hunts this morning, gentlemen. And dines i' the fields : the com-t is ;dl in readiness.
Lis. Pedro, did you send for this tailor ? or you, Moncado ? This light French demi-lance that follows us ?
Pedro. No, I assui-e ye on my word, I am guiltless ; I owe him too much to be inward p with him.
Monc. I am not quit, I am siu'C : there is a reckoning Of some four scarlet cloaks and two lac'd suits Hangs on the file still, like a fearfiU comet. Makes me keep off.
Lis. I am in too, gentlemen, I thank his faith, for a matter of three hundred.
Terzo. And I for two. What a dcAal makes he this way ? I do not love to see my sins before me.
Pedro. 'Tis the vacation, and these things break out To see the court, and glory in their debtors.
Terzo. ^^^^at do you call him ? for I never love To remember their names that 1 owe money to ; 'Tis not genteel : I shun 'em like the plague ever.
Lis. His name's Vertigo, (hold your heads, and wonder!) A Frenchman, and a founder of new fashions : The revolutions of all shapes and habits Run madding tlu'ough his brains.
■" <ofc)'S] — Oi" looters, — i.e. persons souiidiug bonis, — trumpeters. ° An apartment in the royal residence.] The king is now " in progress :" fw the preceding page.
° say] Both the folios " sales ". p imvani] "i.e. intimate ". Weder.
R 2
244 THE MAID IN THE MILL, [act m.
Monc. He is very brave.
LAs. The shreds of what he steals from us, believe it. Makes him a mighty man. He comes : — have at you !
Enter Vertigo.
Vert. Save ye together, my sweet gentlemen ! I have been looking
Terzo. Not for money, sir ? You know the hard time.
Vert. Pardon me, sweet signior; Good faith, the least thought in my heart : your love, gentle- men. Your love ^s enough for me. Money ! hang money ! Let me preserve your love.
Lis. Yes, marry, shall you ; And we our credit. You would see the court ?
Monc. He shall see every place.
Vert. Shall I, i' faith, gentlemen ?
Pedro. The cellar, and the buttery, and the kitchen. The pastry, and the pantr3^
Terzo. Ay, and taste too Of every office, and be free of all too ; That he may say, when he comes home in glory —
Vert. And I will say, i^ faith, and say it openly. And say it home too. Shall I see the king also ?
Lis. Shalt see him every day ; shalt see the ladies In their French clothes ; shalt ride a-hunting with 'em i' ; Shalt have a mistress too. — We must fool handsomely To keep him in belief we honour him ; He may call on us else.
Pedro. A pox upon him ! Let him call at home in 's own house for salt butter.
Vert. And, when the king puts on a new suit —
Terzo. Thou shalt see it first. And dissect his doiiblets, that thou mayst be perfect.
V 'em] Both the fohos"him"; and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber. Sympson printed " them ". — The misprint of " him " for " 'em " or " them " is of very frequent occurrence : for examples of it, see my Remarks on Mr. CoU!er''s and Mr. KnigJiVs editions of Shakespeare, p. 64.
SCENE II.] TlIK MAID IX Tin; Mil. I,. 245
Vcrf. The wardrobe 1 would lain view, ^ciiticnieii, Fain come to see the wardrobe.
Lis. Thou slialt see itj And sec the secret of it^ dive into it ; Sleep in the wai'drobe, and have revelations Of fashions five year hence.
Vert. Ye lionom- me, Ve infinitely honour me.
Terzo. Any thing i' the court, sir, Or within the compass of a coui'ticr
Vert. My wife shall give ye thanks.
Terzo. You shall see any thing ; The privat'st place, the stool, and where 'tis eni])tied.
Vert. Ye make me blush, ye pom' your bounties, gentle- men. In such abundance.
Lis. I will shew thee presently The order that the king keeps when he comes To open view, that thou mayst tell thy neighbours Over a shoulder of muttou, thou hast seen something ; Nay, thou slialt present the king for this time
Vert. Nay, I pray, sii',
Lis. That thou mayst know what state there does belong to it. Stand there, I say ; and put on a sad'i countenance, Mingled with height ; be cover'd and reserv'd ; Move like the sun, by soft degrees, and glorious. — Into yoiu* order, gentlemen, uncover'd ! The king appears. — AYe '11 sport with you a while, sir ; I am sure you are merry with us all the year long, tailor. —
Move softer still ; keep in that fencing leg, monsieur ; Turn to no side.
Enter Franio out of breath. Terzo. What 's this that appears to him ? Lis. H 'as a petition, and he looks most lamentably : Mistake him, and we are made.
q sad] i. e. serious, gi'avc.
246 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iii.
Ft a. This is the king, sure. The glorious king ; I know him by his gay clothes. \Aside.
Lis. Now bear yourself, that you may say hereafter
Fra. I have recover' d breath ; I '11 speak unto him pre- sently.— [Aside. May it please your gracious majesty to consider A poor man's case ! [Kneels.
Vert. What 's your will, sir ?
Lis. You must accept, and read it.
Terzo. The tailor will run mad, upon my Mfe, for 't.
Pedro. How he mumps and bridles ! he will ne'er cut clothes again.
Vert. And what's your grief?
Mono. He speaks i' the nose like his goose.
Fra. I pray you, read there ; I am abus'd and frump'd, sir. By a great man, that may do ill by authority : Poor honest men are hang'd for doing less, sir. My child is stoln, the Count Otrante stole her : A pretty child she is, although I say it, A handsome mother "^ : he means to make a whore of her, A silken whore ; his knaves have filch'd her from me ; He keeps lewd knaves, that do him beastly offices. 1 kneel for justice : shall I have it, sir ?
Enter Philippo and Lords.
Phil. What pageant 's this ?
Lis. The king ! — Tailor, stand off: here ends your apparition. — Miller, turn round, and there address your paper; There, there 's the king, indeed.
Fra. May it please your majesty
Phil. Why didst thou kneel to that fellow?
Fra. In good faith, sir,
' motherl i. e. a young girl, maid. " A MocUier, or Modeler, MotJither, a girl, or young wench ; used all over the eastern parts of England, v. g. Es. Suff. Norf. Cambr. From the ancient Danish word Mocr." Ray's South and East Country Words, p. 81, ed. 1768 (where Spelman is cited for the derivation). It is written also mawther, or mauther. Sec Gifford's Ben Jonson's Works,\v. 153, Moor's Suffolk Words, and Forby's Vocab. of East Anglia.
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 247
I thought he had been a king, he was so gallant : There's none here wears such gold.
Phil. So foolishly? You have golden business, sure. Because 1 am homely Clad, in no ghttering suit, I am not look'd on. Ye fools, that wear gay clothes, love to be gap'd at, What are you better when yoiu' end calls on you 't Will gold preserve ye jfrom the gra^e ? or jewels ? Get golden minds, and fling away your trappings ; I' nto your bodies minister warm rjiimcnts. Wholesome and good ; glitter within, and spare not : Let my court have rich souls ; their suits I weigh not. — And what are you that took such state upon you ? Are you a prince ?
Lis. The prince of tailors, sir : We owe some money to him, an't like yom* majesty.
Phil. If it like him, would ye owM more ! be modester : — And 3'ou less saucy, sir ; and leave this place ; Your pressing-ii'on will make no perfect coiu'tier : Go stitch at home, and cozen your poor neighbom-s : Shew such another pride, I '11 have you wliipt for 't ! And get worse clothes ; these but proclaim your felony. — And what 's youi* paper ?
Fra. I beseech you read it.
Phil. What's here? the Count Otrante task'd for a base ^dllany ! For stealing of a maid !
First Lord. The Count Otrante ! Is not the feUow mad, sir?
Fra. No, no, my lord ; I am in my wits : I am a laboiunng man, And we have seldom leism'C to run mad : We have other business to employ om* heads in ; We have little wit to lose too. If we complain, And if a heavy lord lie on oui' shoulders. Worse than a sack of meal, and oppress our poverties, We are mad straight, and whoop'd% and tied in fetters,
» whoop\I] Spelt in bolli tlio folios " i(7(0^)V/ "— " i. i'. insultcil with shouts." Mason, — who yet was inclined to read " whipp'd," which Synipson gavo at tin- suggestion of a friend.
248 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act in.
Able to make a horse mad^ as you use us.
You are mad for nothing, and no man dare proclaim it ;
In you a wildness is a noble trick,
And cherish'd in ye, and all men must love it ;
Oppressions of all sorts sit like new clothes,
Neatly and handsomely, upon your lordships :
And, if we kick, when^ your honours spur us,
"We are knaves and jades, and ready for the justice.
I am a true miller.
Phil. Then thou art a wonder".
Sec. Lord. I know the man reputed for a good man. An honest and substantial fellow.
Phil. He speaks sense. And to the point : greatness begets much rudeness. — How dare you, sirrah, 'gainst so main a person, A man of so much noble note and honoiu'. Put up this base complaint ? must every peasant Upon a saucy will affront great lords ? All fellows, miUer?
Fra. I have my reward, sir :
I was told, one greatness would protect another.
As beams support their fellows ; now I find it.
If 't please your grace to have me hang'd, I am ready ;
'Tis but a miller and a thief despatched :
Though I steal bread, I steal no flesh to tempt me.
I have a wife ; an't please him to have her too.
With all my heart ; 'twill make my charge the less, sir ;
She '11 hold him play a while. I have a boy too ;
He 's able to instruct his honour's hogs.
Or rub his horse' heels : when it please his lordship.
He may make him his slave too, or his bawd ;
The boy is well bred, can exhort his sister.
For me, the prison, or the pillory.
To lose my goods, and have mine ears crept off,
Whipt like a top, and have a paper stuck before me, —
For abominable honesty to his own daughter ;
I can endure, sir ; the miller has a stout heart.
Tough as his toll-pin.
' hick, ivhen] Sympson silently printed " kick but when '. " a ivondcr~\ In being true, i.e. honest.
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 24'J
Phil. I suspect this shrewdly : Is it his daughter that the people call The miller's fair maid ?
Sec. Lord. It should seem so, sii'.
Phil. Be sure you be i' the right, sirrah.
Fra. If I be i' the wroug, sir, Be sure you haug me; I Mill ask uo courtesy. Youi- grace may have a daughter, (thiuk of that, sii*,) She may be fair, aud she may be abus'd too, (A kiug is not exempted from these cases,) Stolu from yom* loving care
Phil. I do much pity him.
Fra. But Heaven forbid she" should be iu that venture That mine is in at this hour ! I '11 assure yoiir grace. The lord wants a water-mill, and means to grind with her : Woidd I had liis stones to set ! I w'ould fit him for it.
Phil. Follow me, miller, and let me talk with you farther: — x\nd keep this private all, upon your loyalties ! To-morrow morning, though I am now beyond him. And the less looked for, I '11 break my fast with the good
count. No more ; away ! all to our sports ; be silent.
[Exeunt Philippo, Lords, and Franio.
Vert. Whsit grace shall I have now?
Lis. Choose thine own gi-ace. And go to dinner when thou wilt. Vertigo ; We must needs follow the king.
Terzo. You heai'd the sentence,
Monc. If you stay here, I'll send thee a shoulder of venison. Go home, go home ; or, if thou wilt disguise, I '11 help thee to a place to feed the dogs.
Pedro. Or thou shalt be special tailor to the king's monkey ; 'Tis a fine place. We cannot stay.
Vert. No money. Nor no grace, gentlemen ?
Terzo. 'Tis too early, tailor ; The king has not broke his fast yet.
" forbid she] Weber chose to pi-uit "forhid tliat ski ".
250 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act hi.
Vert. I shall look for ye The next term, gentlemen.
Pedro. Thou shalt not miss us : Prithee, provide some clothes : and, dost thou hear. Vertigo ? Commend me to thy wife : I want some shirts too.
Vert. I have chambers for ye all.
Lis. They are too musty ; When they are clear, we '11 come.
[Exeunt all except Vertigo.
Vert. I must be patient And provident ; I shall never get home else. [Exit.
SCENE III. — A room in the country-house of Otrante.
Enter Otrante and Florimel.
Otr. Prithee, be wiser, wench ; thou canst not scape me : Let me with love and gentleness enjoy that, That may be still preserv'd with love, and long'd for. If violence lay rough hold, I shall hate thee ; j_
And, after I have enjoy'd thy maidenhead. Thou wilt appear so stale and ugly to me, I shall despise thee, cast thee oif.
Flor. I pray you, sir. Begin it now, and open your doors to me. I do confess I am ugly ; let me go, sir ; A gipsy-girl ; why would your lordship touch me ? Fie, 'tis not noble ! I am homely bred. Coarse, and unfit for you ; why do you flatter me ? There be young ladies many, that will love you. That will dote on you ; you are a handsome gentleman : What will they say when once they know your quality ? " A lord a miller ! take your toll-dish with you ; You that can deal with gurgeons^ and coarse flour,
^ gurgeons'] Written also grudgeons ; see Richardson's Diet. " Gurgeons, pollard (between fine floiu' and bran). Also used in Glamorganshire." Gloss, of Herefordshire Prov. Words, 1 839. " Gurgeons, pollard, coarse flour." Aker- man's Wiltshire Gloss. — Both the folios " Gudgins " ; and so Sympson ("gud- geons "), though he proposed the true reading in a note.
SCENE III.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 2:)1
'Tis pity you shoiJd taste what manchet* means." Is this fit, sir, for your repute aud honour ?
Otr. I '11 love thee still.
Flor. You cannot ; there 's no sympathy Between our births, our breeding, arts, conditions ; Aud where these are at difference, there 's no liking;. This hour, it may be, I seem handsome to you, And you are taken with variety
More than with beauty; to-morrow, when you have enjoy'd mc, Yoiu* heat and lust assuaged, and come to examine, Out of a cold and penitent condition,
'VATiat you have done, whom you have shar'd yom* love with. Made partner of your bed, how it vn]\ vex you, How you will curse the devil that betray^ you ! And what shall become of me then ?
Otr. Wilt thou heai' me ?
Flor. As hasty as you were then to enjoy me. As precious as this beauty shcw'd unto you, You'll kick me out of doors, you Avill whore", and ban me; And, if I prove with chUd ^vith your fair issue. Give me a pension of five pound a-year To breed yonr heii' withal, and so good ^ speed me !
Otr. I'll keep thee hke a woman.
Flor. I '11 keep myself, sii*. Keep myself honest, sir ; there 's the brave keeping. If you will marry me
Otr. Alas, poor Florimel !
Flor. I do confess I am too coarse and base, sir, To be your wife ; and it is fit you scorn me ; Yet such as I have crown'd the lives of great ones : To be your whore I am sui'e I am too worthy, (Foj-, by my troth, sir, I am truly honest,) And that 's an lionom* equal to youi* greatness.
Otr. I '11 give thee what thou wilt.
Flor. Tempt me no more, then : Give me that peace, and then you give abundance.
"" manchet} i. e. small loaf or roll of tlu- finest white Vircad.
" icliorc'\ i. e. call rao whore.
y yooil] Weber silently printed " God ".
252 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act hi.
I know you do but try me ; you are noble ;
All these are but to try my modesty :
If you should find me easy, and once coming,
I see your eyes already, how they would fright me ;
I see your honest heart, how it would swell,
And burst itself into a grief against me ;
Your tongue in noble anger, now, even now, sir.
Ready to rip my loose thoughts to the bottom.
And lay my shame unto myself wide open.
You are a noble lord ; you pity poor maids;
The people are mistaken in your courses ;
You, like a father, try ^em to the uttermost ;
As they do gold, you purge the dross from them,
And make them shine.
Otr. This cunning cannot help you : I love you to enjoy you ; I have stoln you To enjoy you now, not to be fool'd with circumstance. Yield wilhngly, or else
Flor. What?
Otr. I will force you : I will not be delayed : a poor base wench. That I in courtesy make offer to, Argue with me ?
Flor. Do not ; you will lose your labour : Do not, my lord ; it will become you poorly. Your courtesy may do much on my nature. For I am kind as you are, and as tender. If you compel, I have my strengths to fly to. My honest thoughts, and those are guards about me : I can cry too, and noise enough I dare make. And I have curses that will call down thunder ; For all I am a poor wench. Heaven will hear me. My body you may force, but my wiU never : And be sure I do not live, if you do force me. Or have no tongue to tell your beastly story ; For, if I have, and if there be a justice
Otr. Pray you, go in here : I ^11 calm myself for this time. And be your friend again.
Flor. I am commanded. \_Exit.
SCENE III.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 233
Otr. You cannot scape me yet ; I must enjoy you : I '11 lie with thy wit, though I miss thy honesty. Is this a wench for a boor's hungry bosom ? A morsel for a peasant's base embraces ? And must I starve, and the meat in my mouth ? I '11 none of that.
Enter Gerasto.
Ger. How now, my lord ? how speed^ you ? Have you done the deed ?
Otr. No, pox upon 't, she is honest.
Ger. Honest ! what 's that ? you take her bare denial : Was there ever wench brought up in a mill, and honest ? That were a wonder worth a chronicle : Is your belief so large? What did she say to you?
Otr. She said her honesty was all her dowry ; And preach'd unto me, how unfit, and homely. Nay, how dishonourable, it would seem in me To act my will ; popt me i' the mouth with modesty —
Ger. What an impudent quean was that ! that 's their trick ever.
Otr. And then discours'd to me very learnedly. What fame and loud opinion would tell of me. A wife she touch'd at
Ger. Out upon her, varlet ! Was she so bold? these home-spun things are devils: They '11 tell you a thousand lies, if you '11 believe 'em, And stand upon theii* honom's like great ladies ; They '11 speak unhappily too good words to cozen you. And outwardly seem saints ; they '11 cry downright also. But 'tis for anger that you do not crush 'em. Did she not talk of being \vith child ?
Otr. She touch'd at it.
Ger. The trick of an arrant whore, to milk your lordship : And then a pension nam'd ?
Otr. No, no, she scorn'd it : I offei-'d any thing ; but she refus'd all, Refus'd it with a confident hate.
» speedl So the second folio. — The fii'st folio " sped " ; and so the modern editors.
254 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act hi.
Ger. You thought so. You should have taken her then, turned her, and tew'd her I^ the strength of all her resolution, flatter^ her, And shakM her stubborn will; she would have thankM you, She would have lov^d you infinitely : they must seem modest, It is their parts : if you had play'd your part, sir, And handled her as men do unmann'd hawks '', Cast her b, and mail'd her up in good clean linen '=, And there have coy^d ^ her, you had caught her heart-strings. These tough virginities, they blow like white thorns. In storms and tempests.
Otr. She is beyond all this ; As cold and harden'd as the virgin crystal.
Ger. Oh, force her, force her, sir ! she longs to be ravish'd ; Some have no pleasure but in violence ; To be torn in pieces is their paradise : ^Tis ordinary in our country, sir, to ravish all ; They will not give a penny for their sport. Unless they be put to it, and terribly ;
And then they swear they '11 hang the man comes near 'em. And swear it on his lips too.
Otr. No, no forcing ; I have another course, and I will foUow it. I command you, and do you command youi* fellows. That when you see her next, disgrace and scorn her : I '11 seem to put her out o' the doors o' the sudden. And leave her to conjecture, then seize on her. Away ! be ready straight.
Ger. We shall not fail, su-. [Exit.
Otr. Florimel!
Re-enter Florimel. Flor. My lord ?
Otr. I am sure you have now consider'd,
a immami'd hawks'] i. e. hawks not yet tamed, uot made familiar with man.
b Cast her] " To cast a haivh, is to talie her m your hands before the pinions of her wings, and to hold her from batmg or striving, when you admmister any thing unto her." Latham's Faulconry {Explan. of Words of Art), 1658.
= mail'd her uji in good clean linen] " ' Mail'd '," says Mason, " refers to the hood used to reclaim hawks ", — wrongly. See the quotation from R. Holme, vol. i. 302.
<• coy'd] i. e. stroked, caressed.
SCENE III.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 265
And like a >vise wciicli weigh'd a friend's displeasure, Repented yoiu* proud thoughts, and cast your scorn off".
Flor. My lord, I am not proud ; I -vras never boautifiil, Nor scorn I any thing that 's just and honest.
Otr. Come, to be short, can you love yet? You told nn; Kindness would far compel you : I am kind to you, And mean to exceed that Avay.
Flor. I told you too, sir. As far as it agreed w^ith modesty, With honour, and with honesty, I would jdeld to you. Good my lord, take some other theme ; for love, Alas, I never knew yet what it meant. And on the sudden, sir, to run through volumes Of his most mystic art, 'tis most impossible ; Nay, to begin with lust, which is an heresy, A fold one too ; to learn that in my childhood — Oh, good my lord !
Otr. You vrill not out of this song ? Yoiu' modesty, and honesty ? is that all ? I Avill not force you.
Flor. You are too noble, sir.
Otr. Nor play the childish fool, and marry you : I am yet not mad.
Flor. If you did, men would imagine
Otr. Nor will I woo you at that infinite price. It may be, you expect.
Flor. I expect yom' pardon. And a discharge, my lord ; that 's all I look for.
Otr. No, nor fall sick for love.
Flor. 'Tis a healthful year, sir.
Otr. Look you ; I '11 turn you out o' doors, and scorn you.
Flor. Thank you, my lord.
Otr. A proud slight peat ^' I found you, A fool, it may be too
Flor. An honest woman, Good my lord, think me.
Otr. And a base I leave you : So, fare you well.
• p€at'\ " i. e. pet." Weber,
256 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act m.
Flor. Blessing attend your lordship ! [Exit Otranti;.
This is hot love, that vanisheth like vapours : His ague 's off, his burning fits are well quench' d, I thank Heaven for 't. — His men ! they will not force me ?
Re-enter Gerasto with Servants. B
Ger. What dost thou stay for ? dost thou not know the
way, I
Thou base unprovident whore ? lj
Flor. Good words, pray ye, gentlemen. First Serv. Has my lord smokM you over, good- wife miller ? Is your mill broken, that you stand so useless ?
Sec. Serv. An impudent quean ! upon my Hfe, she is un- wholesome : Some base discarded thing my lord has found her ; He would not have turn'd her off o' the sudden else. Ger. Now against every sack, my honest sweetheart.
With every Smig*^ and Smug
Flor. I must be patient.
Ger. And every greasy guest, and sweaty rascal. For his royal hire ^ between his fingers, gentlewoman !
First Serv. I fear thou hast given my lord the [pox]s, thou
damn'd thing ! Sec. Serv. I have seen her in the stews. Ger. The knave her father
Was bawd to her there, and kept a tippling-house.
You must even to it again ; a modest function ! Flor. If ye had honesty, ye would not use me Thus basely, wretchedly, though yom^ lord bid ye ;
But He that knows
Ger. Away, thou carted impudence. You meat for every man ! A little meal Flung in your face makes you appear so proud.
Flor. This is inhuman. Let these tears persuade you. If ye be men, to use a poor girl better : I wrong not you, I am sure ; I caU you gentlemen. .
« Smig] So the second folio. — The first folio « Sim ".
' Ids royal hire] " Alludmg to a denomination of coin called a royaV Mason. See note, vol. iii. 9.
s [pox] A break here in both the folios.
scKNEiu.] THE .MAID IN THE MILL. 257
Re-enter Otrantf.
Otr. W'Tiat business is here ? Away !
[Exeunt Gerasto and Servants. Are not you f^ouc yet ?
Flor. My lord, this is not well, although you hate rae (For what I know not), to let yoiu' people wrong me, "Wrong me maliciously, and call me
Otr. Peace ! And mark me what we say, adWsedly, Mai'k as you love that that you call yoiu' credit. Yield now, or you are undone ; yom' good name 's perish'd ; Not all the world can buoy '' your reputation ; 'Tis sunk for ever else : these people's tongues ^\^)\ poison
you ; Though you be white as innocence, they 'U taint you ; They will speak terrible and hideous things ; And people in this age are prone to credit ; They '11 let fall nothing that may brand a woman : Consider this, and then be wise, and tremble ! Yield yet, and yet I '11 save you.
Flor. HoAV?
Otr. I '11 shew you. Theu' mouths I '11 seal up ; they shall speak no more But what is honourable and honest of you, And saint-like they shall worship you : they ai'e mine. And what I charge 'em, Florimel
Flor. I am ruin'd ! Heaven will regard me yet : they are barbarous \\Tetches. —
[Aside. Let me not fall, my lord !
Otr. You shall not, Florimel : Mark how I '11 work your peace, and how I honour you. — AMio waits there ? come all in.
Re-enter Gerasto and Servants. Ger. Your pleasure, sir ? Otr. Who dare say tliis sweet beauty is not heavenly ?
^ huoy'\ Sympson's correction. — Both the fohos " buy ". VOL. IX. S
258 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
This virgin, the most pure, the most untainted, The holiest thing ?
Ger. We know it, my dear lord : We are her slaves ; and that proud impudence That dares disparage her, this sword, my lord
First Serv. They are rascals, base, the sons of common women. That wrong this virtue, or dare own a thought But fair and honourable of her : when we sUght her. Hang us, or cut 's in pieces ; let 's tug i* the galleys !
Sec. Serv. Brand us for villains !
Flor. Why, sure, I dream : these are all saints.
Otr. Go, and hve all her slaves.
Ger. We are proud to do it.
[Ea^eunt Gerasto and Servants,
Otr. What think you now ? am not I able, Florimel, Yet to preserve you ?
Flor. I am bound to your lordship ; You are all honour : and, good my lord, but grant me, Until to-morrow, leave to weigh my fortunes, I ^11 give you a free answer, perhaps a pleasing ; Indeed, I '11 do the best I can to satisfy you.
Otr. Take your good time : this kiss : till then, farewell, sweet. [Exeunt severally.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — The neighbourhood of Toledo. A grove^.
Enter Antonio, Martine, and Bustofa.
Mart. By all means discharge your follower.
Ant. If we can get him off. — Sirrah, Bustofa, Thou must needs run back.
Bust. But I must not, unless you send a bier, or a Hctor at my back : I do not use to run from my friends.
Ant. Well, go will serve turn ; I have forgot —
e A grove] So Weber marked this scene ; and, however objectionable his choice of place may seem, I know not what other is to be preferred.
scKNK I.] THE MAID IN TIIK MILL. •i:,9
Bust. What, sir?
Ant. See, if I can think on 't now !
Bust. I know what 'tis now.
Ant. A pistolct of tlmt !
Bust. Done ! You have forgot a device to send me away : you arc going a-smocking pcrliaps ?
Mart. His own ! due, due, i'faith, Antonio ; The pistolet 's his own .
Afit. I confess it : There 'tis [Gives pistolet^ . Now, if you coukl alford out of it A reasonable excuse to mine uncle
Bust. Yes, I can ; but an excuse will not serve your turn : it must be a He, a fiill lie ; 't^-ill do no good else. If you'll go to the price of that
Ant. Is a lie dearer than an excuse ?
Bust. Oh, treble ! this is the price of an excuse ; but a lie is two more. Look, how many foils go to a fail- fall, so many excuses to a full lie ; and less cannot serve your turn, let auy tailor i' the toAvn make it.
Mart. Why, 'tis reasonable ; give him his price.
[Antonio ffives Bustofa two pistolets. Let it be large enough now.
Bust. I '11 warrant you ; cover him all over.
Ant. I would have proof of one now.
Bust. T\liat ! stale' my invention beforehand ? you sliall pardon me for that. Well, I'll commend you to your uucle, and tell him you'll be at home at supper with liim.
Ant. By no means; I cannot come to-night, man.
Bust. I know that too : you do not know a lie when you see it.
Mart. Remember, it must stretch for all night.
' «tefe] See note, p. 14. So SjTnpson. — Both the folios " scale" ; and so the Editors of 1778. (The same misprint occm-s in the old copies of Shakespeare's Coriolanus, act i. so. 1, —
" I will venture To scale 't a little more ", — and has been carefully retained in the three latest editions of the great dramatist, though Theobald had long ago corrected the passage, and though Gifford in n most decisive note had proved that the tnie reading is " stale "'.)
s 2
2G0 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
Bust. I shall want stuff : I doubt 'twill come to the other pistolet.
Ant. Well, lay out ; you shall be no loser, sir.
Bust. It must be faced, you know; there will be a yard of dissimulation at least, city-measure, and cut upon an untroth or two ; Uned with fablesJ, that must needs be, cold weather's coming; if it had a galloon of hypocrisy, 'twould do well ; and hooked together with a couple of conceits, that 's necessity. Well, I '11 bring in my bill : I '11 warrant you as fair a lie by that time I have done with it, as any gentleman i' the town can swear to, if he would betray his lord and master. [Exit.
Ant. So, so ; this necessary trouble 's over.
Mart. I would you had bought an excuse of him Before he went ! you '11 want one for Ismenia.
Ant. Tush, there needs none, there 's no suspicion yet ; And I '11 be arm'd, before the next encounter. In a fast tie with my fair Isabel.
Re-enter Bustofa.
Mart. Yes, You '11 find your errand is before you now.
Bust. Oh, gentlemen, look to yourselves ! ye are men of another world else : your enemies are upon you ; the old house of the Bellides wiU fall upon your heads : Signior Lisauro
Ant. Lisauro !
Bust. And Don what call you him ? he 's a gentleman, yet he has but a yeoman's name : Don Tarso, Tarso, and a dozen at their heels
Ant. Lisauro, Terzo, nor a dozen more. Shall fright me from my ground, nor shun my path. Let 'em come on in their"^ ablest fury.
Mart. 'Tis worthily resolv'd. I '11 stand by you, sir : This way ! I am thy true friend.
J fables'] " Mr, Theobald," says Sympson, " dislikes the reading of 'fables ' here, and proposes to correct ' sables,' as being the better lining." How could Theobald fail to perceive that " fables " (wliich the sense positively requires) is used by Bustofa with a playful allusion to the word of similar sound — sables ?
'' in their] Sympson silently printed " In all tlieir ".
SCENE I.] THE MAID IN TIIK MILL. 261
Bust. I'll be gone, sir, that one may live {o tell what's become of you. — Put up', put up: will you iicvi-r learn to kuo^y a lie from an iEsop's fables ? There 's a taste for yon
now
Enter Ismenia and Aminta.
Mart. Look, sir, what time of clay is it ?
Ant. I know uot ; My eyes go false, I dare not trust 'cm now. I prithee, tell me, Martinc, if thou canst. Is that Ismenia or Isabella?
Mart. This is the lady ; forget not Isabella.
Ant. If this face may be l)orrow'd and lent out, If it can shift shoulders, and take other tires. So, 'tis mine where'er I find it.
Ism. Be sudden : I cannot hold out long. [Exit A.minta,
Mart. Believe 't, she frowns.
Ant. Let it come, she cannot frown me off on 't. How prettily it wooes me to come nearer ! — How do you, ladj', since yesterday's pains ? Were you not weary ? of my faith
Ism. I think you were.
Ant. What, lady ?
Ism. Weary of your faith ; 'tis a l)urden That men faint under, though they bear little of it.
Mart. So; this is to the piu'pose. [.Lsidc.
Ant. You came home In a fair hour, I hope.
Ism. From whence, sir ?
Re-enter Aminta.
Amin. S'w, there 's a gentlewoman without desires To speak with you.
Ant. They were pretty homely toys ; but yoiu- presence Made them illustrious.
Ism. My cousin speaks to you.
Amin. A gentlewoman, sir ; Isabella She names herself.
' Put up] i. c. slieathc yoiu* sword.':*.
262 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
Mart. So, so ; it hits finely now. [Aside.
Ant. Name yourself how you please, speak what you please, I ^11 hear you cheerfully.
Ism. You are not well. — Request her in : she may have more acquaintance With his passions, and better cure for ^em.
Amin. She's nice"' in that, madam : poor sovil, it seems She 's fearful of your displeasure.
Ism. I '11 quit her From that presently, and bring her in myself. [_Exit.
Mart. How carelessly do you behave yourself, When you should call all your best faculties To counsel in you ! how will you answer The breach you made with fair Ismenia ? Have you forgot the retrograde vow you took With her, that now is come in evidence? You '11 die upon your shame ; you need no more Enemies of the house, but the lady now : You shall have your despatch.
Re-enter Ismenia dressed as Juno.
Ant. Give me that face. And I am satisfied, upon whose shoulders Soe'er it grows. Juno, deliver us Out of this amazement ! beseech you, goddess. Tell us of our friends ; how does Ismenia ? And how does Isabella ? both in good health, I hope, as you yourself are.
Ism. I am at farthest In my counterfeit \_Aside] . — My Antonio, I have matter against you may need pardon. As I must crave of you.
Ant. Observe you, sir. What evidence is come against me : what think you The hydra-headed jury will say to 't ?
Mart. 'Tis I am fool'd : My hopes are pour'd into the bottomless tubs ;
™ nicc\ i. e. scrupulous.
SCENE I.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 263
'Tis labour for the house of BeUides":
I must not seem so yet [Aside] . — But, in sootli, lady,
Did you imagine your changcahle face
Hid you from me ? by this hand, I knew }ou !
Ant. I went by the face ; and by these eyes I might Have been dcceiv'd.
Ism. You might indeed, Antonio ; For this gentleman did vow to Isabella, That he it was that lov\l Ismcnia, And not Antonio.
Mart. Good : and was not that A manifest eonfcssion that I knew you ? I else had been unjust unto my friend. 'Twas well remembcr'd : there I found you out ; And speak your conscience now.
Ant. But did he so protest ?
Ism. Yes, I vow to you, had Antonio Wedded Isabella, Ismenia Had not been lost ; there had been her lover.
Ant. AYliy, much good do you, fi-iend ! take her to you ; I crave but one ; here have I my wish fidl : I am glad we shall be so neai* ncighboiu's.
Mart. Take both, sir ; Juno to boot, tliree parts in one ; St. Hilary bless you"! — Now, opportunity, Beware to meet vrith falsehood ! if thou canst, Shmi it. My friend^s faith 's turning from him. [Aside.
Ism. Might I not justly accuse Antonio
" My hopes are poured into tlie bottomless tubs ;
^Tis labour for the house of Bcllkks] " In this passage, Martiue alludes not only to the family of his advei-saries, but to the ancient story of the BeUides [Belides], the fifty daughters of Danaus, tlie son of Belu!<, who all, except Hypcmincstra, murdered their husbands on theii' wedding-night ; for which crime, as the poets feign, they were condemned ui Tartarus to draw water eternally in sieves [to fill with water a vessel full of holes]." Mason.
° St. Hilary bless you] '■ Here I think Martine's speech should end, and Antonio speak the remainder :
My friend's faith 's turning from him, l)lauily appears to be Antonio's upbraidings to Martinc." Skwauu. "[The whole of J this speech belongs to Martine. - - These liust words mean, that he was about to lose the fidelity he owed his friend." Mason (who fi«>t gave the jiroper punctuation).
264 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
For a love-wanderer ? You know no other But me for another^ and confess troth now ?
Ant. Here was my guide ; wherever I find this face I am a lover. Marry^ I must not miss This freckle then (I have the number of ^em). Nor this dimple ; not a silk from this brow ; I carry the full idea ever with me. If nature can so punctually parallel, I may be cozen'd.
Ism. Well_, all this is even : But now, to perfect all, our love must now Come to our enemies' hands, where neither part Will ever give consent to it.
Ant. Most certain : For which reason it must not be put to 'em. Have we not prevention in our own hands ? Shall I walk by the tree, desire the fruit. Yet be so nice to pullP, till I ask leave Of the churhsh gardener, that will deny me ?
Ism. Oh, Antonio !
Ant. 'Tis manners to faU to When grace is said.
Ism. That holy act's to come.
Mart. You may ope an oyster or two before grace.
Ant. Are there not double vows as valuable And as well spoke as any friar utters ? Heaven has heard all.
Ism. Yes ; but stays the blessing, Till all dues be done : Heaven is not serv'd by halves. We shall have ne'er a father's blessing here : Let us not lose the better from above.
Ant. You take up Aveapons of unequal force ; It shews you cowardly. Hark in your ear.
Amin. Have I lost aU employment ? would this proffer Had been made to me, though I had paid it with A reasonable penance ! [Aside.
Mart. Have I pass'd
f so nice to imll] "i. e. so scrupulous of pulling". Mason.
SCENE I.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 265
All thy fore-lock, Time ? I '11 stretch a long arm
But I '11 catch hold again, (do but" look back
Over thy shoulder,) and have a pull at thee. [Aside.
Ism. I hear you, sir ; nor can I hear too much While you speak well : you know tli' accustom'd place Of oiu' night-parley ; if you can ascend, The window shall receive you ; you may find there A corrupted churchman to bid you welcome.
Ant. I would meet no other man.
Ism. Aminta, you hear this.
Amin. With joy, madam, because it pleases you : It may be mine own case another time. Now you go the right way, ask the banes'' out ; Put it past father or fiiends to forbid it. And then you 're sure. — Sii', your Hjonen-taper I '11 light up for yon ; the -vdndow shall shew you The way to Sestos.
Ant. I will venture drowning.
Mart. The simile holds not : 'tis hanging rather. You must ascend yoiu' castle by a ladder ; To the foot I '11 bring you.
Ant. Leave me to climb it.
Mart. If I do turn you off?
Ant. Till night, farewell ; then better.
Ism. Best it should be"'; But peevish hatred keeps back that degree^.
[Exeunt Ismenia and Aminta.
Mart. I never look'd so smooth as now I purpose : And then, beware ! Knave is at worst of knave When he smiles best and the most seems to save. [Aside.
[Exeunt.
t banes] See note, voL v. 444. The Editors of 1778 gave " bans" ; Weber " banns ".
' Till nif/kt, farewell ; then better. Ism. Best it should be] In this passage, as Mason saw, the wonls " better " and "besf"' refer to the preceding "fare" in "fare2vell " : but, surely, the alteration of "fa7-e^vcll " to " fare \vcll ", which Mason proposed and Weber adopted, is altogether improper.
' der/7'ee'\ The Editors of 177ti silently printed "decree" ; and .■so Weber !
266 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act n.
SCENE II. — A room in the country-house of Julio.
Enter Julio. Julio. My mind 's unquiet : wliile Antonio f
My nephew 's abroad, my heart is not at home ; ?
Only my fears stay with me ; bad company ! y
But I cannot shift ^em off. This hatred (
Betwixt the house of Bellides and us Is not fair war; 'tis civil, but uncivil. We are near neighbours ; were of love as near. Till a cross misconstruction ('twas no more,
In conscience) put us so far asunder : I
I would 'twere reconcil'd ! it has lasted f
Too many sun-sets. If grace might moderate, Man should not lose so many days of peace, To satisfy the anger of one minute. I could repent it heartily. I sent The knave to attend my Antonio too, Yet he returns no comfort to me neither.
Enter Bustofa,
Bust. No, I must not
Julio. Ha ! he 's come.
Bust. I must not ; 'twill break his heart to hear it.
Julio. How ! there 's bad tidings : I must obscm'e and hear it: He will not tell me for breaking of my heart ; 'Tis half-split already. [Aside, and then retires.
Bust. I have spied him. Now to knock down a don with a lie, a silly harmless lie : 'twiU be valiantly done, and nobly perhaps.
Julio. I cannot hear him now.
Bust. Oh, the bloody days that we live in ! the envious, malicious, deadly days that we draw breath in !
Julio. Now I hear too loud.
Bust. The children that never shall be born may rue it ; for men, that are slain now, might have lived to have got children that might have cursed their fathers.
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL, 267
Julio. Oh, my posterity is ruined !
Bust. Oh, sweet Antonio !
Julio. Oh, dear Antonio !
Bust. Yet it was nobly done of both parts : when he and Lisaui'O met
Julio. Oh, death has parted 'em !
Bust. " Welcome, my mortal foe," says one : " Welcome, my deadly enemy,'' says th' other. Off go their doublets, they in their shirts, and their swords stark naked ; here lies Antonio, here lies Lisam'o ; he comes upon him with an imbroccata, that he puts by Avith a punta reversa ; Lisam'o recoils me two paces and some six inches back, takes his cai'cer, and then, oh
Julio. Oh!
Bust. Runs Antonio quite thorough —
Julio. Oh, villain !
Biist. Quite thorough between the arm and the body ; so yet * he had no hurt at that bout.
Julio. Goodness be praised !
Bust. But then, at next encounter, he fetches me up Lisauro ; Lisauro makes out a lunge at him, which he think- ing to be a passado, Antonio's foot shpping, down, oh, down
Julio. Oh, now thou art lost !
Bust. Oh, but the quality of the thing ! both gentlemen, both Spanish Christians ; yet one man to shed —
Julio. Say his enemy's blood.
Bust. His hair, may come by divers casualties, though he ucver go into the field with his foe ; but a man to lose nine ounces and two drams of blood at one wound, thirteen and a scruple at another, and to live till he die in cold blood — yet the surgeon, that cured him, said, if pia mater had not been perished, he had been a lives man till this day.
.hilio. There he concludes he is gone.
Bust. But all this is nothing : now I come to the point
Julio. Ay, the point, that 's deadly ; the ancient blow Over the buckler ne'er went half so deep.
• yet] Silently altered to "that" by the Editors of 177!i ; .iiid so Weber.
268 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
Bust. Yet pity bids me keep in my charity ; for me to pull an old man's ears from his head with telling of a tale — oh, foul tale ! no ; be silent, tale. Furthermore, there is the charge of burial ; every one will cry " blacks, blacks," " that had but the least finger dipt in his blood, though ten degrees removed when 'twas done. Moreover, the surgeon (that made an end of him) will be paid ; sugar -plums and sweet- breads; yet, I say, the man may recover again, and die in his bed.
Julio. What motley stuff is this ? [coming forward] Sirrah, speak truth. What hath befallen my dear Antonio? Restrain your pity in concealing it ; Tell me the danger full ; take off your care Of my receiving it ; kill me that way, I '11 forgive my death : what thou keep'st back from truth Thou shalt speak in pain ; do not look to find A limb in his right place, a bone unbroke. Nor so much flesh unbroil'd of all that mountain. As a worm might sup on : despatch, or be despatched.
Bust. Alas, sir, I know nothing, but that Antonio is a man of God's making to this hour : 'tis not two since I left him so.
Julio. Where didst thou leave him ?
Bust. In the same clothes he had on when he went from you.
Julio. Does he live?
Bust. I saw him drink.
Julio. Is he not wounded ?
Bust. He may have a cut i' the leg by this time ; for Don Martine and he were at whole slashes.
Julio. Met he not with Lisauro ?
Bust. I do not know her.
Julio. Her ! Lisauro is a man, as he is.
Bust. I saw ne'er a man like him,
Julio. Didst thou not discourse A fight betwixt Antonio and Lisauro ?
" hlacJcs} " i. e. mom'ning clothes." Weber.
SCENE M.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 2C9
Bust. Ky, to myself; I liopc a man ma}-^ give himself the lie, if it please him.
Julio. Didst thou lie, then?
Bust. As sure as you live now.
Julio. I live the happier by it. When will he return ?
Bust. That he sent me to tell j'ou ; within these ten days at farthest.
Julio. Ten days ! he's not wont to be absent two.
Bust. Nor I think he will not : he said he would be at home to-morrow ; but I love to speak within my compass.
Julio. You shall speak within mine, sir, now. — Within there !
Enter Servants.
Take this fellow into custody ; Keep him safe, I charge you.
Bust. Safe ! do you hear ? take notice what plight you find me in ; if there want but a eollop or a steak o' me, look to't.
Julio. If my nephew return not in his health to-morrow. Thou goest to the rack.
Bust. Let me go to the manger first ; I had rather eat oats than hay. [Exit ivith Servants.
Enter Bellides with a letter.
Bel. By yom* leave, sir.
Julio. For aught I know yet, you are welcome, sir.
Bel. [Giving letter'] Read that, and tell me so ; or, if thy spectacles Be not easy, keep thy nose unsaddled, and ope Thine ears : I can speak thee the contents ; I made 'em. 'Tis a challenge, a fair one, I '11 maintain 't : I scorn to hire my second to deliver 't, I bring 't myself. Dost know me, Julio ?
Julio. BelHdes !
Bel. Yes ; is not thine hair on end now ?
Julio. Somewhat ama//d at tliy rash hardiness : How durst thou come so near thine enemy ?
270 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
Bel. Durst! I dare come nearer : thou art a fool, Julio.
Julio. Take it home to thee, with a knaA'e to boot.
Bel. Knave to thy teeth again ! and all that 's quit. Give me not a fool more than I give thee, 4
Or, if thou dost, look to hear on^t again. i
Julio. What an encounter's this ! 1
Bel. A noble one : \
My hand is to my words ; thou hast it there : There I do challenge thee, if thou dar'st, be Good friends with me ; or I '11 proclaim thee coward. %
Julio. Be friends with thee ! \
Bel. I '11 shew thee reasons for 't : \
A pair of old coxcombs, (now we go together,) >
Such as should stand examples of discretion. The rules of grammar to unwilling youth To take out lessons by ; we, that should check. And quench the raging fire in others' bloods. We strike the battle to destruction ? Read 'em the black art ? and make 'em believe It is divinity ? Heathens, are we not ? Speak thy conscience ; how hast thou slept this month. Since this fiend haunted us ?
Julio. Sure, some good angel Was with us both last night. Speak thou truth now ; Was it not last night's motion ?
Bel. Dost not think 1 would not lay hold of it at first proff'er, Should I ne'er sleep again ?
Julio. Take not all from me ; I '11 tell the doctrine of my vision : — " Say that Antonio, best of thy blood. Or any one the least allied to thee. Should be the prey unto Lisaui^o's sword. Or any of the house of Bellides "
Bel. Mine was the just inversion. On, on !
Julio. " How would thine eyes have emptied thee in sorrow, And left the conduit ^' of nature dry !
" condidt] So the second folio. — The first foHo " condiment ".
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 271
Thy hands have turn'd rebellious to the balls. And broke the glasses ! with thine own curses Have torn thy soul, left thee a statue To propagate thy next posterity ! "
Bel. " Yes, and thou causer ! " so it said to mc ; " They fight but your mischiefs ; the young men were friends. As is the life and blood coagidate And curded in one body ; but this is yoiu's, An inheritance that you have gather'd for 'em, A legacy of blood, to kill each other Tlu'oughout your generations." Was 't not so ?
Julio. Word for Avord.
Bel. Nay, I can go farther yet.
Julio. 'Tis far enough : let us atone " it here, And in a reconciled circle fold Oiu' friendship new again.
Bel. The sign 's in Gemini ; An auspicious house ; 't has join'd both ours ag.ain.
Julio. You cannot proclaim me coward now, Don Bellides.
Bel. No ; thou 'rt a vahant fellow ; so am I : I '11 fight with thee at this hug, to the last leg I have to stand on, or breath or life left.
Julio. This is the salt unto humanity. And keeps it sweet.
Bel. Love ! oh, life stinks without it ! — I can tell you news.
Julio. Good has long been wanting.
Bel. I do suspect, and I have some proof on 't (So far as a love-epistle comes to), That Antonio your nephew and my daughter Ismenia are very good friends before us.
Julio. That were a double wall about our houses, ^Tiich I could wish were builded.
Bel. I had it fi'om Antonio's intimate, Don Martine; And yet, methought, it was no friendly part To shew it me.
Julio. Perhaps 'twas his consent :
"■ atont'^ i. e. reconcile.
272 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act iv.
Lovers have policies as well as statesmen ; They look not always at the mark they aim at,
Bel. We '11 take up cudgels^ and have one bout with ^em : They shall know nothing of this union ; And^ till they find themselves most desperate, Succour shall never see 'em.
Julio. I '11 take your part, sir.
Bel. It grows late ; there 's a happy day past us.
Julio. The example, I hope, to all behind it. [Exeunt.
SCENE 111.— Toledo. A street. Before the house of
Bellides.
Aminta appears at the window with a taper. Amin. Stand fair, light of love ! which epithet and place Adds to thee honour; to me it would be shame ''': We must be weight in love, no grain too light. Thou art the land-mark ; but, if Love be bhnd (As many that can see have so reported). What benefit canst thou be to his darkness ? Love is a jewel (some say) inestimable. But, hung at the ear, deprives our own sight % And so it shines to others, not ourselves. I speak my skill ; I have only heard on 't. But I could wish a nearer document.
^ to me it would he shame] Because " Ughf-of-love " meant — a light woman, a wanton : see note, vol. vii. 227. — Theobald, not nnderstandmg the passage, pro- posed to read in the preceding line, " Stand fair, light love ! "
^ But, hung at the ear, deprives our own sight] Sympson proposed to read, " But, hung at the ear, is depriv'd our own sight .•" and Heath (MS. Notes) conjectured,
" But, hung at the ear, deprives it our own sight ". No alteration is required, the old text being doubtless genuine. Here "deprives"'' means simply— takes away ; as in Shakespeare's Hamlet, act i. sc. 4,
" Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason " ; (where, assuredly, "sovereignty" is not, as GifFord supposed, a title of respect). The general meaning of the present passage is rightly explained by the Editors of 1778 ; "We thmk the poets designed to compare love to a jewel, whose lustre is seen by the rest of the world, and not by the wearer."
scKNKiii.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. -'7;i
Alas, the ignorant desire to know !
Some say. Love's bnt a toy, and with a but
Now, methinks, I shoidd h)ve it ne'er the worse ;
A toy is harmless sure, and may be play'd M^th ;
It seldom goes without his adjvmct, pretty,
" A pretty toy," we say; 'tis metre" to joy too.
Well, here may be a mad night yet, for all this :
Here 's a priest ready, and a lady ready ;
A chamber ready, and a bed ready ;
"Tis then but making unready '', and that 's soon done.
My lady is my cousin ; I myself;
Which is nearest, then ? My desires are mine ;
Say they be hers too, is 't a hanging matter ?
It may be ventiu''d in a worser cause :
I must go question with my conscience.
I have the word : sentinel, do thou stand ;
Thou shalt not need to call, I '11 be at hand. [Exit above.
Enter Antonio and Martine.
Ant. Are we not dogg'd behind us, think'st thou, friend ?
Mart. I heard not one bark, sir.
Ant. There are that bite And bark not, man ; methought I spied two fellows, That through two streets together walk'd aloof. And wore their eyes suspiciously upon us.
Mart. Your jealousy, nothing else ; or such perhaps As are ati'aid as much of us ; who knows But about the like business ? but, for your fear's sake, I '11 adWse and entreat one courtesy.
Ant. What is that, friend ?
Mart. I will not be denied, sir ; Change your upper garments with me.
Ant. It needs not.
Mart. I think so too ; but I will have it so, If you dare trust me with the Ijctter, sir.
Ant. Nay, then
* metre'] " i. e. rhjTne." WEnER. ■» making unready] "i. e. undressing." Mason. VOL. i\. T
274 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act tv.
Mart. If there should be danger towards, There will be the main mark, I am sure.
Ant. Here thou tak^st from me
Mart. Tush ! the general 1
Must be safe, however the battle goes. [They change cloaks. See you the beacon yonder ?
Ant. Yes ; we are near shore. ^
Mart. Come, land, land ! you must clamber by the cliflF ; Here are no stairs to rise by.
\
As Antonio is climbing up to the window, enter two Gentlemen,
icith weapons drawn, who set upon Martine. Ant. Ay ! are you there ?
[Antonio comes doivn to the rescue 0/ Martine : the
Gentlemen are driven off by Antonio awe? Martine ;
and exit Antonio pursuing them. Martine ascends
to the ivindow, where Aminta re-appears. Aniin. Antonio ? Mart. Yes. Ismenia? Amin, Thine own.
Mart. Quench the light ; thine eyes are guides illustrious. Amin. ^Tis necessary. [Exeunt above.
Re-enter Antonio. Ant. ^ Your legs have sav'd your lives, whoe'er you are. — Friend ! Martine ! where art thou ? not hurt, I hope. — Sure, I was farthest in the pursuit of 'em : My pleasures are forgotten through my fears. The light 's extinct : it was discreetly done ; They could not but have notice of the broil, And, fearing that might call up company, Have carefully prevented, and clos'd up : I do commend the heed. Oh, but my friend ! I fear his hurt. — Friend ! friend ! it cannot be So mortal, that I should lose thee quite, friend : A groan ! any thing that may discover thee ! Thou art not sunk so far, but I might hear thee : I '11 lay mine ear as low as thou canst fall.
Ant.l Both the fohos " Mar."
I
SCENE I.] THK MAID IN THE MILL. 27:)
Friend ! Don Martiuc ! 1 must answer for tlice
('Twas in my cause thou fell'st), if thou bc'st down. —
Such danglers stand betwixt us and our joy.s,
That, shoiikl wc forcthink ere we un(kn'take,
We'd sit at home, and save. What a night 's here !
Purpos'd for so much joy, and now disposal
To so much wretcliedncss ! I sliall not rest in 't :
If I had all my pleasui'es there within,
I should not entertain 'em with a smile.
Good night to you ! mine will be black and sad :
A friend cannot, a woman may be had '. [Eant.
ACT V. SCENE I. — A room in the house o/Bellides.
Enter Ismenia and Aminta.
Ism. Oh, thou false
Amin. Do your daring'st : he 's mine own. Sold and body mine, church and chamber mine, Totally mine.
Ism. Dar'st thou face thy falsehood ?
Amin. Shall I not give a welcome to my ^vishes, Come home so sweetly ? Farewell your company, Till you be calmer, woman ! [Exit.
Ism. Oh, what a heap Of miseiy has one night brouglit with it !
Enter Antonio. Ant. Where is he ? Do you turn your shame from me ? You're a blind adulteress ; you know you are. I»m. How 's that, Antonio ?
"■ had] So Sympson silently. — Both the folios "bad " ; ami so the Editoi-s of 1778.
T 2
276 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Ant. Till I have vengeance, Your sin '% not pardonable : I will have him, If hell hide him not ! you 've had your last of him. \_Exit.
Ism. What did he speak ? I understood him not : He call'd me a foul name ; it was not mine ; He took me for another, sure.
Enter Bellides.
Bel. Ha ! are you there ? Where 's your sweetheart ? I have found you, traitor To my house ! wilt league with mine enemy ? You '11 shed his blood, you '11 say : ha ! will you so ? And fight with your heels upwards ? No, minion ; I have a husband for you (since you 're so rank). And such a husband as thou shalt like him, Wliether thou wilt or no, — Antonio !
Ism. It thunders with the storm now.
Bel. And to-night I will have it despatch'd ; I '11 make it sure, I : By to-morrow this time thy maidenhead Shall not be worth a chequin •', if it were Knock'd at an out-cry *. Go ; I '11 ha' you before me : Shough, shough ! up to your coop, pea-hen !
Ism. Then I '11 try my wings. \_Exit.
Bel. Ay ! are you good at that ? stop, stop, thief ! stop there ! [Exit.
SCENE II. — A room in the country-house o/Otrante.
Enter Otrante and Florimel. Flor. [sings']
Now, having leisure, and a happy wind, Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind ; Sails spread, and grist here ready to be ground. Fie, stand not idly, but let the mill go round !
Otr. Why dost thou sing and dance thus ? why so merry ?
e chequin'\ i. e. the Italian coin so called. — Both the fohos " chicken " ; and so Sympson and the Editors of 1778 ! ' out-cry^ « i.e. auction." Mason.
scBNK II ] THE MAID IN THK MILL. 277
Why dost thou look so wantonly u[)()n nu>, And kiss my hands ?
Flor. If I were hijrh enough, I would kiss your lips too.
Otr. Do ; this is some kindness ; This tastes of ^^'illingncss ; nay, you may kiss still. But why o' the sudden now does the fit take you, Unoffer'd or uncompell'd ? why these sweet courtesies? Even now you would have blush'd to death to kiss thus : Prithee, let me be preparM to meet thy kindness ; I shall be unfurnish'd else to hold thee play, wench : Stay now a little, and delay your blessings ; If this be love, methinks it is too violent : If you repent you of your strictness to me. It is so sudden, it wants circumstance.
Flor. Fie, how didl ! [Siiiifs.
How long shall I jiiue for luve ?
How long shall I sue in vahi ? How long, like the turtle-dove,
Shall I hea^^ly thus complain I Shall the sails of my love stand still ?
Shall the grist « of my hopes be ungi'ouud I Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie !
Let the mill, let the mill go round !
Otr. Prithee, be calm a little : Thou mak'st me wonder ; thou that wert so strange ^, And read such pious rides to my bcha\iour But yesternight, thou that wert made of modest}', Shouldst in a few short minutes turn thus desperate !
Flor. You are too cold.
Otr. I do confess I freeze now ; I am another thing all over me : It is my part to woo, not to be courted. Unfold this riddle ; 'tis to me a wonder. That now o' th' instant, ere I can expect. Ere I can turn my thought.s, and think upon A separation of your honest carriage
>•' ffrist] Both the folios '' gribt.^ ■'. •> gtraii;ir] i. c. eoy.
278 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
From the desires of youtli, thus wantonly,
Thus beyond expectation
Flor. I will tell you, And tell you seriously, why I appear thus. To hold you no more ignorant and bhnded : I have no modesty ; I am truly wanton ; I am that you look for, sir : now, come up roundly ! If my strict face and counterfeited staidness ' Could have won on you, I had caught you that way. And you should ne'er have come to have known who hui-t
you. Prithee, sweet count, be more familiar with me. However we are open in our natures, And apt to more desires than you dare meet with, Yet we affect to lay the gloss of good on 't. I saw you touched not at the bait of chastity. And that it grew distasteful to your palate To appear so holy ; therefore I take my true shape : Is your bed ready, sir? you shall quickly find me. [Smgs.
On the bed I 'II throw thee, throw thee down ;
Down being laid,
Shall we be afraid To try the rites that belong to love ? No, no ; there I '11 woo thee with a ci'own ;
Crown our desires,
Kindle the fires ; When love requires, we should wanton prove ; We '11 kiss, we '11 sport, we '11 laugh, we '11 play : If thou com'st short, for thee I '11 stay ; If thou unskilful art, the ground J I '11 kmdly teach : we '11 have the mill go round.
Olr. Are you no maid ?
Flor. Alas, my lord, no, certain ! I am sorry you are so innocent to think so. Is this an age for silly maids to thrive in ?
i staidness] So the first foho (" staiednessc ") ; but, the dot over the i beuig somewhat blurred and looking like an I, Weber asserted that it gave " staled- ness ". — The second folio " statelyness " ; and so Sympson and Weber.
] If thou uiishilful wt, the ground, &c.] So the first folio. — The second folio has "If thou, unsJcllful art on thefjround", kc. ; and so (with a comma after « art") the Editors of 1778 and Weber !!
scENK ii.J THE MAID IN THE MILL. 279
It is SO long too since I lost it, sir,
Tlmt I have no belief I ever was one :
^Vliat should you do with maidenheads ? you hate 'em ;
They are peensh pettish things, that hold no game up.
No pleasure neither ; they are sport for sxu'geons ;
I '11 warrant you, I '11 fit you beyond maidenhead :
A fair and easy way men travel right in.
And with delight, discourse, and twenty pleasiu'es,
They enjoy their journey ; madmen creep through hedges.
Otr. I am metamorphos'd ! \_Aside.'] — AVhy do you appear, I conjure you, beyond belief thus wanton ?
Flor. Because I would give you pleasure beyond belief.
Tliink me still III my father's mill, Where I have oft been found-a, Thrown on my back On a wcU-fillM sacic, While the mill has still gone romid-a : Prithee, sirrah, try thy skill ;
And again let the mill go romid-a !
Otr. Then yon have traded ?
Flor. Traded ! how should I know else how to live, sir, And how to satisfy such lords as you are. Our best guests and our richest ?
Otr. How I shake now ! — [Aside.
You take no base men?
Fhr. Any that Avill offer ; All manner of men, and all religions, sir. We touch at in our time ; all states and ages ; We exempt none. [Sinffs.
The young one, the old one, The fearful, the bold one,
The lame one, though ne'er so unsound. The Jew or the Turk, Have leave for to work,
The whilst that the mill goes I'ound.
Otr. Yon are a common thing, then ?
Ftor. No matter, since you have your private ])lcasure, And have it by an artist excellent ; Wlicthor 1 am tlius or tlius, vour men can toll \()U.
280 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Otr. My men ! defend me ! how I freeze together^ And am on ice ! Do I bite at such an orange, After my men ? I am preferr'd ! [Aside.
Flor. Why stay you ? Why do we talk, my lord, and lose our time ? Pleasure was made for lips, and sweet embraces ; Let lawyers use their tongues. — Pardon me. Modesty ! This desperate way must help, or I am miserable. [Aside.
Otr. She turns, and wipes her face; she weeps for certain: Some new way now : she cannot be thus beastly ; She is too excellent fair to be thus impudent : She knows the elements of common looseness. The art of lewdness'^ — that, that, that —
Enter a Servant.
How now, sir?
Serv. The king, an't please your lordship, is alighted Close at the gate.
Otr. The king!
Serv. And calls for you, sir ; Means to breakfast here too.
Flor. Then I am happy. [Aside.
Otr. Stolen so suddenly ? — Go, lock her up ; Lock her up where the courtiers may not see her ; Lock her up closely, sirrah, in my closet.
Serv. I will, my lord. What, does she yield yet?
Otr. Peace ! She is either a damnM devil, or an angel. — No noise, upon your life, dame, but all silence !
[Servant locks up Florimel in the closet, and tlien exit'
Enter Philippo, Lords, Lisauro, Terzo, and Vertigo. Your majesty heaps too much honour on me. With such delight to view each several corner Of a rude pile ; there 's no proportion in 't, sir.
•^ The art of lewdness'^ Seward proposed to read " Not the art (or act) of letvdness"; and Heath {MS. Notes) would give the passage thus, — " She Jcnow the elements of common looseness ! The art of lewdness ! that, that, that — " supposing that Otrante, had he not been interrupted, would have said " that is impossible."
sCK.NK 11] THE MAID IX THE .MILL. 2«1
Phil. Metliinks 'tis liandsome, unci the rooms iilong Are neat and well contriv'd ; tlic gallery Stands pleasantly and sweet. What rooms are these?
Otr. They are skittish ones.
Phil. Nay, I must see.
Otr. Pray you, do, sir : They are lodging-cluindjers over a homely garden.
Phil. Fit still, and handsome ; very well. — And those ?
Otr. Those lead to the other side o' th' house, an't like 3"ou.
Phil. Let me see those.
Otr. You may ; the doors are open. — What should this view mean? I am half suspicious.
[Aside.
Phil. This little room ?
Otr. 'Tis mean ; a place for trash, sir. For rubbish of the house.
Phil. 1 would see this too : I will see all.
Otr. I beseech your majesty, — The savoiu' of it, and the coarse appearance
Phil. 'Tis not so bad ; you would not offend your house with it : Come, let me see.
Otr. Faith, sir
Phil. I'faith, I mil see.
Otr. My gi'oom has the key, sir ; and 'tis ten to one
Phil. But I will see it. — Force the lock, my lords; Tlicre be smiths enough to mend it. — I perceive You keep some rare things here, you would not shew, sir.
[They burst open the door of the closet.
Terzo. Here's a fail' maid, indeed !
Phil. By my faith, is she ; A handsome girl ! — Come forward ; do not fear, wench. —
Re-enter Florimel. Ay, marry, here's a treasure worth concealing. — Call in the miller. [E.rit a Lord.
Otr. Then 1 am discover'd !— [Aside.
282 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
I ['11] confess all before the miller comes, sir : |:
T'was but intention ; from all act I am clear yet.
Re-enter Lord with Fbanio.
Phil. Is this your daughter ?
Fra. Yes, an't please your highness, This is the shape of her : for her substance, sir, Whether she be now honourable or dishonourable. Whether she be a white rose or a canker', is the question. I thank my lord, he made bold with my filly. — If she be for your pace, you had best preserve her, su' ; She is tender-mouthed; let her be broken handsomely.
Phil. Maid, were you stoln ?
Flor. I went not A\dllingly, An't please your grace; I was never bred so boldly.
Phil. How has he us'd you ?
Flo7\ Yet, sir, very nobly.
Phil. Be sure you tell truth. — And be sm-e, my lord, You have not wronged her ; if you have, I tell you. You have lost me, and yourself too. — Speak again, wench.
Flor. He has not wrong'd me, sir ; I am yet a maid ; By all that 's white and innocent, I am, sir ! Only I suflFer'd under strong temptations. The heat of youth; but Heaven deliver'd me. — My lord, I am no whore, for all I feign' d it. And feign'd it cunningly, and made you loathe me : 'Twas time to out-do you ; I had been robb'd else, I had been miserable : but I forgive you.
Phil. What recompense for this ?
Otr. A great one, sir; First a repentance, and a hearty one. — Forgive me, sweet !
Flor. I do, my lord.
Otr. I thank you : The next, take this, and these ; all I have, Florimel !
[Offers Jewels.
Flor. No, good my lord ; these often corrupt maidens ;
canher] i. e. wild rose, or dog-rose.
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 283
I dare not touch at these ; they are lime for virgius : But, if you '11 give me
Otr. Any thing in my jjower, Or in my purchase.
Flor. Take heed, noble sir ; You '11 make me a bold asker.
Otr. Ask me freely.
Flor. Ask you ! I do ask you, and I deserve you ; I have kept you from a crjdng sin vrould damu you To men and time ; I have preserved your credit. That would have died to all posterity : Curses of maids shall never now afflict you, Nor parents' bitter tears make your name barren : If he deserves well that redeems liis country. And as a patriot be remember'd nobly, Nay, set the highest ; may not I be worthy To be your friend, that have preserv'd your honour ?
Otr. You are, and thus I take you ; thus I seal you Mine own, and only mine.
Phil. Count, she deserves you. — And let it be my happiness to give you. —
[Gives her to Otrante. I have given a virtuous maid now, I dare say it ; 'Tis more than blood. I '11 pay her portion, sir ; And 't shall be Avorthy you.
Fra. I '11 sell my mill; I '11 pay some too ; I '11 pay the fiddlers. And we '11 have all i' the country at this wedding. Pray, let me give her too. — Here, my lord, take her. Take her with all my heart, and kiss her freely : Would I could give you all this hand has stoln too, In portion with her ! 'twould make her a little whiter. The wind blows fair now : get me a young miller. Vert. She must have new clothes.
Tei'zo. Yes.
Vert. Yes, many, must she. — If 't please you, madam, let me see the state of your body ; I '11 fit you instantly.
Phil. Art not thou gone yet ?
284 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Vert. Au't please your grace, a gown, a handsome gown now. An orient gown
Phil. Nay, take thy pleasure of her.
Vert. Of cloth of tissue — I can fit you, madam ; — My lords, stand out o' the light ; — a curious bod}^, — The neatest body in Spain this day, — with embroider'd flowers ; A clinquant™ petticoat of some rich stuff, To catch the eye : I have a thousand fashions. Oh, sleeve, oh, sleeve ! I '11 study all night, madam. To magnify yoiu" sleeve.
Otr. Do, superstitious tailor", When you have more time.
Flor. Make me no more than woman, and I am thine.
Otr. Sir, happily my wardrobe, with your help, May fit her instantly : will you try her ?
Vert. If I fit her not, your wardrobe cannot : But, if the fashion be not there, you mar her.
[^Exeunt Otrante, Florimel, a7id Vertigo.
Enter Constable and Officers, bringing in Antonio.
Ant. Is my offence so great, ere I be con^dct. To be torn with rascals ? If it be law. Let 'em be wild horses rather than these.
Phil. What 's that ?
Con. This is a man suspected of mm'der, if it please youi- grace.
Phil. It pleases me not, friend. But who suspects him?
Con. We that are your highness' extraordinary ofiicers, we that have taken our oaths to maintain you in peace.
Phil. 'Twill be a great charge to you.
Con. 'Tis a great charge, indeed; but then we call oiu-
"' clinquant] "i. e. glittering, shiuing [French, clinquant, tinsel]." Weber. " superstitious tailor} The epithet " superstitious " is used here with a quibble. Compare ;
" There 's rabbi Abimelech a learned cobbler, Rabbi Lazai'us a superstitcliio^ijS tailor."
Middleton and Rowley's World tost at fcjwws,— Middletons Worlds, v. 170, ed. Dvec.
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 285
neighbours to help us. This gentleman and another were fallen out (yet that's more than I am able to say, for I heard no words between 'era, but what their weapons spoke, clash and clatter) ; which we seeing, came with our bills of govern- ment", and first knocked down theii' weapons, and then the men.
Phil. And this you did to keep the peace ?
Con. Yes, an't like your grace, we knocked 'em down, to keep the peace. This we laid hold on, the other we set in the stocks : that I could do by mine own power, witliout your majesty.
Phil. How so, sir ?
Con. I am a shoemaker by my trade.
Enter Aminta.
Amin. Oh, my husband ! Why stands my husband as a man endanger'd ? Restore him me, as you are merciful ! I '11 answer for him.
Ant. What woman 's this ? what husband ? — Hold thy bawling : I know thee for no wife.
Amin. You married me last night.
Ant. Thou liest ! I neither was In chui'ch nor house last night, nor saw I thee. A thing that was my friend, I scorn to name now, Was with Ismenia, like a thief, and there He \dolated a sacred trust : this thou mayst know, Aminta.
Amin. Are not you he ?
Ant. No ; nor a friend of his : Would I had killed him ! I hope I have.
Amin. That was my husband, royal sii', that man. That excellent man !
Ant. That \'illain, that thief !
Enter Bellides. Bel. Have I caught you, sii- ? well overtaken ! — This is mine enemy. — Pardon, my sovereign !
Phil. Good charity, to crave pardon for yoiu* enemy !
=> hills of government \ Another quibble on tlie word " hilh'" : seo p. 160.
286 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Bel. Mine own pardon, sir, for my joy^s rudeness. In what place better could I meet my foe, And both of us so well provided too ? He with some black blood-tliirsty crime upon him, That (ere the horse-leech burst) will suck him dry ; I with a second accusation. Enough to break his neck, if need should be ; And then to have even Justice^ self to right us ; HoAv should I make my joys a little civil, They might not keep this noise ?
Ant. Here is some hope : Should the axe be dull, the halter is preparing.
Phil. What ^s your accusation, sir ? We have heard the former.
Enter Julio. Bel. Mine, my lord? a strong one. Julio. A false one, sir. At least mahcious ; an evidence Of hatred and despite : he would accuse My poor kinsman of that he never dreamM of. Nor, waking, saw, — the stealing of his daughter ; She whom, I know, he would not look upon. — Speak, Antonio, didst thou ever see her? Ant. Yes, sir ; I have seen her. Bel. Ah, ha, friend Julio !
Julio. He might; but how? with an unheedful eye. An accidental view, as men see multitudes. That the next day dare not precisely say They saw that face or that, amongst ^em all. — Didst thou so look on her?
Bel. Guilty, guilty ! His looks hang themselves.
Phil. Your patience, gentlemen : I pray you tell me if I be in error ; I may speak often when I should but hear : This is some show you would present us with. And I do interrupt it : pray you, speak, (It seems no more) is 'i any thing but a show ? Bel. My lord, this gentlewoman can shew you all ;
SCENE II.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 287
So could my daughter too, if slie were here : By this time they are both immodest enough. She is fled me, and I accuse this thief for 't : Don INIartinc, his own friend, 's my testimony ; A practised niglit-work !
Phil. That :Martine 's the other In your custody ; he was forgotten : Fetch him liitlier.
Con. We ^11 bring the stocks and all else, an't please your grace. [Exit ivith Ofhcers.
Amin. That man 's my husband certain, instead of this : Both would have deceiv'd, and both beguil'di'. {Aside.
Enter Bustofa irith a sack, and Ismenia disguised as a country girl'\.
Bust. So ho, miDer, miller ! look out, miller ! — Is there ne'er a miller amongst you here, gentlemen ?
Terzo. Yes, sir, here is a miller amongst gentlemen, A gentleman miller.
Bust. I should not be far off, then ; there •' went but a pan' of shears and a bodkin between us. — Will you to work, miUer ? here 's a maid has a sackful of news for you : shall your stones walk ? will you grind, miller ?
Phil. This your son, Franio ?
Fra. j\Iy ungracious, my disobedient. My unnatural, my rebel son, my lord.
Bust. Fie ! your hopper runs over, miller.
Fra. This villain (of my own flesh and blood) was accessary To the stealing of my daughter.
Bi(.^t. Oh, mountain, shalt thou call a molehill a scab upon the face of the earth ? though a man be a thief, shall a miller call him so ? Oh, egi-egious !
p Both would have deceived, and both her/uWd] " Both " means, of course, herself and Martine. Seward proposed to read " — and loth are hcguird" (whicli would be no improvement to the metre at least) : the Editors of 1778 remark that " the old reading bears the same sense."
1 as a country yirl'] Weber gave " habited as Juno": but see Bustofa's second speech in this page, and the last speech of the next page.
' there] Weber chose to print " here" .
288 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Julio. Remember, sirrali, who you speak before.
Bust. I speak before a miller, a tliief in grain ; for he steals corn : he that steals a wench, is a true man to him.
Phil. Can you prove that, you may help another cause That was in pleading.
Bust. I'll prove it strongly. He that steals corn, steals the bread of the commonwealth; he that steals a wench, steals but the flesh.
Phil. And how is the bread-stealing more criminal than the flesh ?
Bust. He that steals bread, steals that which is lawful every day ; he that steals flesh, steals nothing from the fasting day : ergo, to steal the bread is the arranter theft.
Phil. This is to some purpose.
Bust. Again, he that steals flesh, steals for his own belly- ful ; he that steals bread, robs the guts of others : ergo, the arranter thief the bread-stealer. Again, he that steals flesh, steals once, and gives over ; yes, and often pays for it ; the other steals every day, without satisfaction. To conclude, bread-stealing is the more capital crime ; for what he steals, he puts it in at the head ; he that steals flesh (as the Dutch author says) puts it in at the foot (the lower member) . — Will you go as you are now, miller?
Phil. How has this satisfied you, Don Bellides ?
Bel. Nothing, my lord ; my cause is serious : I claim a daughter from that loving thief there.
Ant. I would I had her for you, sir !
Bel. Ah, ha, Julio !
Julio. How said you, Antonio? wish you, you had his daughter ?
A7it. With my soul' I wish her; and my body Shall perish, but I will enjoy my soul's wish. I would have slain my friend for his deceit. But I do find his own deceit hath paid him.
Julio. Will you vex my soul forth? no other choice But where my hate is rooted ? — Come hither, girl : Whose pretty maid art thou?
' With my soul.'\ Sympson silently printed " With all my soul."
SCENE II. ] THE MAID IN TMK MILL. '.'89
Ism. The child of a pour man, sir.
Julio. The better for it. With my sovereign's leave, I'll wed thee to this man, will he, nill he.
Phil. Pardon me, sir, I '11 be no love-enforcer ; I use no power of mine unto those ends.
Julio. AVilt thou have him ?
Ism. Not unless he love me.
Ant. I do love thee : farewell all other beauties ! I settle here. — You are Ismenia? [^Aside to Ismenia,
Ism. The same I was ; better nor worse, Antonio.
Ant. I shall have your consent here, I am sure, sir.
Bel. With all my heart, sir ; nay, if you accept it, I '11 do this kindness to mine enemy. And give her as a father.
Ant. She '11 thank you as a daughter ; — Will you not, Ismenia ?
Bel. How ! Ismenia !
Ism. Your daughter, sir.
Bel. Possible ? ' — Away, you feeble-witted things ! You thought you had caught the old ones : you wade, you
wade In shallow fords ; we can swam, we : look here ! We made the match ; we are all friends, good friends : Thin, thin ! why, the fool knew all this, this fool.
Bust. Keep that to youi'self, sir ; what I knew I knew : this sack is a witness. — Miller, this is not for your thumbing: here's gold lace^; you may see her in her" holiday clothes if you will : I was her wardrobe-man.
Re-enter Constable and Officers, bringing in Martine*'. Ant. You beguil'd me well, sir. Mart. Did you speak to me, sir ? Ant. It might seem to you, Martine ; your conscience Has quick ears.
« Possible ?} So the first folio. — The second folio " Is 't possible V ; and so the modem editors.
' MilleJ; this is not for your thumbing : here 'sr/old lace] See note, p. 223.
" her] Weber chose to print " the ".
• Martine] Here the old cds. mark also the entrance of '■^ Aminid" : but seu p. 28.5.
VOL. IX. U
290 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Mart. My sight was a little dim i' tlie dark, indeed ; So was ray feeling cozenM ; yet I 'm content : I am the better understander now ; I know my wife wants nothing of a woman : There you ^re my junior.
Ant. You are not hurt ?
Mart. Not shrewdly hurt ; I have good flesh to heal, you see; Good round flesh. These cherries will be worth chopping, Crack stones and all : I should not give much to boot To ride in your new, and you in my old ones now.
Ant. You mistake the weapon : are you not hurt ?
Mart. A httle scratch ; but I shall claw it off well enough.
Enter Gillian.
Gil. I can no longer own what is not mine. With a free conscience [Jside] . — My liege, your pardon !
Phil. For what ? — Who knows this woman ?
Fra. I best, my lord ; I have been acquainted with her these forty summers. And as many winters, were it spring again : She 's like the gout ; I can get no cure for her.
Phil. Oh, your wife, Franio ?
Fra. ^Tis " oh, my wife " indeed, my lord ; A painful stitch to my side ; would it were pickM out !
Phil. Well, sir, your silence.
Bust. Will you be older and older every day than other ? the longer^' you live the older still? must his majesty com- mand your silence, ere you '11 hold your tongue ?
Phil. Your reprehension runs into the same fault : Pray, sir, will you be silent ?
Bust. I have told him of this before now, my liege; but age will have his course, and his weaknesses
Phil. Good sir, your forbearance.
Bust. And his frailties, and his follies, as I may say, that cannot hold his tongue ere he be bidden
Phil. Why, sirrah
Bust. But I believe your majesty will not be long troubled
" longer'] Weber chose to print " older " !
SCENE 11.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 291
with him : I hope that woman has something to conl'ess will hang 'em both.
Phil. Sirrah, you '11 pull your destiny upon you, If you cease not the sooner.
Bust. Nay, I have done, my liege : yet it grieves me that I should call that man father, that should be so shameless, that, being commanded to hold his tongue
Phil. To the porter's lodge"' with him !
Bust. I thank your grace ; I have a friend there.
Phil. Speak, woman : K any interruption meet thee more, It shall be punish'd sharply.
Gil. Good my liege, (I dare not,) Ask you the question why that old man weeps.
Phil. Who? Coimt JuHo? I observ'd it not.— You hear the question, sir ; will you give the cause?
Julio. Oh, my lord, it hardly will get passage (It is a son'ow of that greatness grown), 'Less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels !
Gil. I '11 help you, sir, in the delivery. And bring you forth a joy. You lost a daughter.
Julio. 'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.
Cril. She 's found again. Know you this mantle, sir ?
Julio. Ha ! [Shewing mantle.
Gil. Nay, leave your wonder ; I '11 explain it to you. This did enwrap your child, whom ever since I have call'd mine, when [her] ^ nurse Amaranta, In a remove from Mora to Corduba, Was seiz'd on by a fierce and hungry bear ; She was the ra^nn's prey)", as Heaven so would :
"■ the xtorter's lodyc] Where fonnerly servants .iiul dependants of the gi'cat used to receive corporal punishment.
» [her] I have inserted this word at the suggestion of Heath (MS. Aolcs). y the ravines prey'} "i. e. the ravenous creatiu-e's prey ; not the ' raven's', as the modem editors read." Webeu, — who is inaccm-ate in stating tliat the modern editors give "raven's" (which, after all, is the more coiTect foi-m : in Vukn- tinian we have had, and according to both the folios, —
" Why do we hke to feed the greedy ruvm [i. e. ravenousness] Of these blown men," &c. vol. v. 30G.)
U 2
292 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
He, with his booty fillM, forsook the babe : All this was in my sight ; and so long I saw, Until the cruel creature left my sight ; At which advantage I adventured me To rescue the sweet lamb : I did it, sir ; And ever since I have kept back your joy. And made it mine. But age hath wearied me. And bids me back restore unto the owner What I unjustly kept these fourteen years.
Julio. Oh, thou hast ta'en so many years from me, And made me young as was her birth-day to me ! — Oh, good my liege, give my joys a pardon ! I must go pour a blessing on my child. Which here would be too rude and troublesome. [_Exit.
Phil. Franio, you knew this before ?
Bust. Oh, oh ! Item for you, miller !
Fra. I did, my liege ; I must confess I did : And I confess I ne'er would have confessed. Had not that woman's tongue begun to me. We poor ones love, and would have comforts, sir. As well as great. This is no strange fault, sir ; There 's many men keep other men's children. As though they were their own.
Bust. It may stretch farther yet : I beseech you, my liege, let this woman be a little farther examined ; let the wards ^ of her conscience be searched : I would know how she came by me ; I am a lost child, if I be theirs : though I have been brought up in a mill, yet I had ever a mind, methought, to be a greater man.
Phil. She will resolve^ you, sure. ■:
Gil. Ay, ay, boy ; thou art mine own flesh and blood. Born of mine own body.
Bust. ^Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me : there 's no trust in these millers. Woman, tell the truth : my father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was, were he knight, squire, or captain ; less he should not be, 1
* wards'^ The correction of the Editors of 1778 (which was anticipated by Heath, MS. Notes). — Both the folios " words".— Sympson printed « wounds ". ' resolve] i. e. inform, satisfy.
SCENE 11.] THE MAID IN THE MILL. 293
Gil. Thou art mine own child, boy.
Bust. And was the miller my father ?
Gil. Wouldst thou make thy mother a wliorc, knave ?
Bust. Ay, ii' she make me a bastard. — The rack must make her confess, my lord ; I shall never come to know who I am else. I have a worshipful mind in me, sure ; methinks I do scorn poor folks.
Re-enter Otrante, Florimel, Julio, and Vertigo.
Phil. Here comes the brightest glory of the day ; Love yok'd with love, the best equality, "Without the level of estate or person.
Julio. You both shall be rewarded bountifully ; We ^11 be a-kin too ; brother and sister shall Be chang'd with us ever.
Bust. Thank you, uncle : my sister is my cousin yet, at the last cast. — Farewell, sister-foster ! if I had known the civil law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of husband than thou hast ; but much good do thee ! I '11 dance at thy wedding, kiss the bride, and so —
Julio. AVhy, how now, sirrah ?
Bust. 'Tis lawful now, she 's none of my sister. [Sings.
It was a miller and a lord,
That had a scabbai'd and a sword,
He put it up, in the country word ;
The miller and his daughter.
She has a face, and she can sing ; She has a gi'ace, and she can spring ; She has a place with another thing, Tradoodle.
Fra. A knavish brother of yours, my lord.
Btist. Would I were acquainted with yom- tailor, noble brother !
Otr. You may; there he is; mine, newly entertain'd.
Vert. If you have any work for me, I can fit you, sir; I fitted the lady.
Bust. My sister, tailor? what fits her will hardly fit mc.
Vert. Who fits her may fit you, sir ; the tailor can do both.
291 THE MAID IN THE MILL. [act v.
Bust. You have a true yard^ tailor ?
Vei't. Ne'er a whit too long, I warrant you.
Bust, [sings']
Then, tailor, march with me away : I scorn these robes, I must be gay ; My noble brother he shall pay Tom Tailor.
[Eoceunt Bustofa and Vertigo.
Phil. Your recovered friendships are sound, gentlemen ?
Bel. At heart, at heart, ray lord : the worm shall not Beyond many ages find a breach to enter at.
Phil. These lovers' unities I will not doubt of. How happy have you made our progress, then, To be the witness of such fair accords ! Come, now we '11 eat with you, my lord Otrante : 'Tis a charge sav'd ; you must not grudge your guest ; 'Tis both my welcome, and your wedding-feast.
[Exeunt.
In the prefatory matter to this play I omitted to notice, — that por- tions of it furnished a droll entitled The Surprise, which may be found in Kirkman's collection, The Wits., or Sport upon Sport, Part First, 1672, p. 107 (see vol. i. 200 of the present work).
WIFE FOR A MONTH.
A Wife fur a Moueth.
In the folios, 1647, 1679. The second folio adds " A Tragi-comcdy.'
'I'his tragi-comedy, the unassisted work of Fletcher, was licensed by Sir Henry Hei-bert May 27) 1624, and acted by the King's Servants: see Malone's Shakespeare (by Boswell), iii. 226. We also learn that it was performed "by the K. players, at St. James, the 9 Febru. [1636-7]." Ibid. p. 239.
'•'■ The Character and Story of Alphonso," says Langbaine, " and his Brother Frederick's Carriage to him, much resembles the History of Sancho the Eighth, King of Leon. I leave the Reader to the perusal of his Story in Mariana and Louis de Mayerne Turquet." Ace. of Engl. Dram. Poets., p. 216. " Our poet," observes Weber, " had certainly The Maid's Tragedy in his mind when he wrote the latter acts of this play. The scene in the bed-chamber, together with Valerio's abstinence from his wife, will bring to the memory of any attentive reader similar scenes in that tragedy, differently conducted however," &c.
A Wife for a Month was one of those dramas in which Betterton dis- tinguislied himself at the commencement of his career : see p. 20.5. In Langbr.ine's days, however, the play had ceased to be represented, for he mentions it as " well worth reviving."
PROLOGUE.
You are welcome, gentlemen ; and would our feast
Were so well season' d, to please every guest !
Ingenuous appetites, I hope we shall.
And their examples may prevail in all
Our noble fi'iends. Who writ this, bid me say %
He had rather dress, upon a triumph-day,
My lord-mayor's feast, and make him sauces too,
Sauce for each several mouth ; nay, fiu-ther go.
He had rather build up those invincible pies.
And castle-custards '^, that affright all eyes,
Nay, eat 'em all and their artillery.
Than di'ess for such a curious company
One single dish : yet he has pleas'd ye too.
And you have confess'd he knew well what to do.
Be hungry as you were wont to be, and bring
Sharp stomachs to the stories he shall sing.
And he dare yet, he says, prepare a table
Shall make you say, well drest, and he well able.
a may jyi'evail in all
Our tiohle friends. ^Vho writ this, hid me say, &c.] The first folio thus, —
"may prevaile ui all (Our noble friends) who writ this, bid me say," &c.
The second folio has, —
" may prevail in all. Oiu' noble friend, who writ this, bid mc say," &c. and so the modern editors. But would the prologue-speaker call the poet " our noble friend " 1 Surely not.
^ castk-cusiards] As before : see note, vol. vii. 49.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Alphonso, eldest sou of the late king
of Naples. Frederick'^, his youuger brother, the
reigning king. SoRANO, a lord, chief counsellor to
Frederick, Valeric, a young lord*". Camillo, ^ Cleanthes, L court-lords. Menallo, J
RuGio,alord, ""1
,, n • > friends to Alphonso
Marco, a mar, J
PoDRAMO, servant to Sorano.
Tony, Frederick's fool.
Castruccio, captain of the castle.
Lawyer.
Physician.
Captain.
Cutpurse.
Friars.
Citizens, Guard, Attendants.
Maria ••, wife to Frederick. Evanthe, sister to Sorano. Cassandra, her waiting- woman. Citizens' Wives. Ladies.
persons in the masque.
|
Cupid. |
Distrust. |
||
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The Graces. |
Jealousy |
||
|
Fancy. |
Care. |
||
|
Desire. |
Ire. |
||
|
Delight. |
Poverty. |
||
|
Hope. |
Despair. |
||
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Fear. |
|||
|
Scene,- |
-Naples. |
7'he principal actors were— Joseph Taylor. Robert Benfield.
Richard Robinson. Nicholas Toolie.
John Underwood. George Birch.
Fol. 1679.
c Frederick, &c.] In the second folio (which alone gives the Dram. Pen.) Frederick is called " usurper " : but compare act i. sc. 2 ;
" he [Alphonso] was his eldest, And noblest too, had not fair Nature stopt in him. For which cause this was chosen to inherit, Frederick the younger."
"i a young lordl See act iii. sc. 3, " Cheer up, my noble lord," &c., and act iv. sc. 2, " Call hither Lord Valerio."
<= Marial " The queen has been nameless hitherto ; but in the first folio, ' Mar.' is prefixed to her speeches iu the first act, and I have ventured to name her Maria upon this testimony throughout the play." Weber.
WIFE FOR A MONTH.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Frederick, Sorano, Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Attendants.
Sor. Will your grace speak ?
Fred. Let me alone^ Sorano : Although my thoughts seem sad, they are welcome to me.
Sor. You know I am private as youi' secret wishes, Ready to fling my soul upon your service, Ere your command be on 'f.
Fred. Bid those depart.
Sor. You must retire, my lords.
Com. What new design Is hammering in his head now ?
Cle. Let ^s pray heartily None of our heads meet with it : my wife 's old. That 's all my comfort.
Men. Mine ^s ugly, that I am sure on. And I think honest too ; ^t would make me start else.
Cam. Mine 's troubled in the country with a fever. And some few infirmities else. He looks again ;
' your command be on 7] Weber chose to print " you command me on V " !!
302 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
Comej let 's retire : certain, 'tis some slie-business, This new lord is employ'd''.
[Exeunt Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo. Val. I 'U not be far off. Because I doubt tbe cause. [Aside, and then retires.
Fred. Are they all gone ?
Sor. All but youi' faithful servant.
Fred. I would tell thee, But 'tis a thing thou canst not like.
Sor. Pray you, speak it : Is it my head ? I have it ready for you, sir : Is 't any action in my power ? my wit ? I care not of what nature, nor what follows.
Fred. I am in love.
Sor. That 's the least thing of a thousand, The easiest to achieve.
Fred. But with whom, Sorano ?
Sor. With whom you please ; you must not be denied, sir.
Fred. Say, it be with one of thy kinswomen ?
Sor. Say, with all ; I shall more love your grace, I shall more honom* you ; And would I had enough to serve your pleasure !
Fred. Why, 'tis thy sister, then, the fair Evanthe ; I '11 be plain with thee.
Sor. I '11 be as plain with you, sir ; She brought not her perfections to the world, To lock them in a case, or hang 'em by her ; The use is all she breeds 'em for ; she is yours, sir.
Fred. Dost thou mean seriously?
Sor. I mean my sister; And, if I had a dozen more, they were aU yours. Some aunts I have, they have been handsome women ; My mother 's dead, indeed ; and some few cousins. That are now shooting up, we shall see shortly.
'' certain, His some she-business,
This new lord is employ'd] " Mr. Sympson, without authority or notice, reads,
" This new lord 's employ'd m " ; which proves he did not understand the poet. Camillo, a good man, is mtended to say, ' Certainly 'tis some illicit amour, as this [6arf] lord is employed.' " J. N., ecZ. 1778,
SCENE I.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 303
Fred. No ; 'tis Evauthe.
Sor. I have sent my man unto her. Upon some business to come presently Hither'^; she shall come : your grace dare speak unto her ? Large golden promises, and sweet language, sir, You know what they work ; she is a complete courtier : Besides, I '11 set in.
Fred. She waits upon my queen : What jealousy and anger may arise. Incensing her
Sor. You have a good sweet lady, A woman of so even and still a temper. She knows not anger : say, she were a Furj'-, I had thought you had been absolute, the great king, The fountain of all honours, place'', and pleasures. Your will and yoiu' commands unbounded also : Go, get a pail* of beads'^", and learn to pray, sir.
Enter Servant.
Serv. My lord, your servant stays.
Sor. Bid him come hither. And bring the lady with him. [Exit Sen^ant.
Fred. I will woo her ; And either lose myself, or win her favour.
Sor. She is coming in.
Fred. Thy eyes shoot through the door ; They are so piercing, that the beams they dart Give new light to the room.
Enter Podramo and Evanthe.
Evan. Whither dost thou go ? This is the king's side, and his private lodgings : What business have I here ?
Pod. My lord sent for you.
•^ Hither] Means, of course, (as Weber explained it,) — to the palace. SjTiipson, choosing to understand it as meaning — "into Frederick's apartments", altered the punctuation unnecessaiily ; and so the Editors of 1778.
'' place'] Sympson's proposed coiTection, which was adopted by his successors. — The folios " playes " and " plays ".
« a pair of heads] i.e. a set of beads (so, formerly, a pair of cards meant — a pack of cards.
304 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
Evan. His lodgings are below ; you are mistaken ; We left them at the stair-foot.
Pod. Good sweet madam
Evan. I am no counsellor, nor important*^ suitor, Nor have no private business through these chambers, To seek him this way. O' my life, thou art drunk ; Or worse than drunk, hir'd to convey me hither To some base end ! Now I look on thee better. Thou hast a bawdy face, and I abhor thee, A beastly bawdy face ! I ^11 go no ftirther.
Sor. Nay, shrink not back ; indeed you shall, good sister. Why do you blush ? the good king will not hurt you ; He honours yau, and loves you.
Evan. Is this the business ?
Sor. Yes, and the best you ever will arrive at, If you be wise.
Evan. My father was no bawd, sir, Nor of that worshipful stock, as I remember.
Sor. You are a fool.
Evan. You are that I shame to tell you.
Fred. Gentle Evanthe
Evan. The gracious queen, sir. Is well and merry. Heaven be thank'd for it ; And, as I think, she waits you in the garden.
Fred. Let her wait there ; I talk not of her garden ; I talk of thee, sweet flower.
Evan. Your grace is pleasant, To mistake a nettle for a rose.
Fred. No rose, Nor lily, nor no glorious hyacinth. Are of that sweetness, whiteness, tenderness. Softness, and satisfying blessedness, As my Evanthe.
Evan. Your grace speaks very feelingly : I would not be a handsome wench in your way, sir. For a new gown.
Fred. Thou art all handsomeness :
e importanf] " i. e. importunate." Mason.
SCENE I.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 305
Nature will be asham'd to frame another,
Now thou art made ; thou hast robbed her of her cunning^
Each several part about thee is a beauty.
Sor. Do you heai' this, sister ?
Evan. Yes, unworthy brother : But all this will not do.
Fred. But love, Evauthe, Thou shalt have more than words ; wealth, ease, and honours. My tender wench.
Evan. Be tender of my credit, And I shall love you, su', and I shall honour you.
Fred. I love thee to enjoy thee, my Evanthe, To give thee the content of love.
Evan. Hold, hold, sir ; You ai'e too fleet : I have some business this way, Yoiu' grace can ne'er content.
Sor. You stubborn toy !
Evan. Good my lord Bawd, I thank you.
Fred. Thou shalt not go. Believe me, sweet Evanthe, So high I will advance thee for this favour, So rich and potent I will raise thy fortune. And thy friends mighty
Evan. Good youi* grace, be patient ; I shall make the worst honourable wench that ever -w^as, Shame your discretion and your choice.
Fred. Thou shalt not.
Evan. Shall I be rich, do you say, and glorious. And shine above the rest, and scorn all beauties. And mighty in command ?
Fred. Thou shalt be any thing.
Evan. Let me be honest too, and then I '11 thank you : Have you not such a title to bestow too ? If I prove otherwise, I would know but this, sir ; Can all the power you have, or all the riches. But tie men's tongues up from discoursing of me, Their eyes from gazing at my glorious folly, Time that shall come, from wondering at my impudence,
' cunmng'\ i. e. skill. VOL. IX. X
306 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
And they that read my wanton life, from cm'ses ?
Can you do this ? have you this magic in you ?
This is not in your power, though you be a prince, sir,
No more than evil is in holy angels,
Nor I, I hope^. Get wantonness confirm'd
By act of parliament an honesty,
And so received by all, I '11 hearken to you.
Heaven guide your grace ! [ixoing.
Fred, Evanthe, stay a little : I '11 no more wantonness ; I '11 marry thee.
Evan. What shall the queen do ?
Fy-ed. I ^11 be divorc'd from her.
Evan. Can you tell why ? what has she done against you? Has she contriv'd a treason 'gainst your person? Abus'd your bed? does disobedience urge you?
Fred. That 's all one ; 'tis my will.
Evan. 'Tis a most wicked one, A most absurd one, and will shew a monster. I had rather be a whore, and with less sin, To your present lust, than queen to youi' injustice. Yours is no love, Faith and Religion fly it. Nor has no taste of fair affection in it : Some hellish flame abuses your fair body, And helHsh Furies blow it, — look behind you ! Divorce you from a woman of her beauty. Of her integrity, her piety ! Her love to you, to all that honours you, Her chaste and virtuous love, are these fit causes ? Wliat will you do to me, when I have cloy'd you ? You may find time out in eternity, Deceit and violence in heavenly justice. Life in the grave, and death among the blessed. Ere stain or brack '^ in her sweet reputation.
Sor. You have fool'd enough; be wise now, and a woman: You have shew'd a modesty suflicient, If not too much, for court.
i Nor I, I hope} " i. e. nor am I, I hope, in your power." Mason. '' brack] i. e. breach, break.
s<ENE I.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 307
Evan. You liave sliew'd an impudence A more experienc'd bawd would blush and shake at. — You will make my kindred mighty ? —
Fred. Prithee^ hear me.
Evan. I do, sir, and I couut it a great offer,
Fred. Any of thine.
Evan. 'Tis like enough you may clap honour on them ; But how 'twill sit, and how men will adore it, Is still the question. I '11 tell you what they '11 say, sir, Wliat the report will be, and 'twill be true too (And it must needs be comfort to your master'), " These are the issues of her impudence." I '11 tell your grace, so dear I hold the queen. So dear that honom' that she nm's'd me up in, I would first take to me, for my lust, a Moor, One of yom* galley-slaA^es, that cold and hunger, Decrepit misery, had made a mock-man, Than be your queen.
Fred. You are bravely resolute.
Evan. I had rather be a leper, and be shunn'd. And die by pieces, rot into my grave, LeaAong no memory behind to know me. Than be a high whore to eternity.
Fred. You have another gamesterJ, I perceive by you ; You durst not slight me else.
Sor. I '11 find him out ; Though he lie next thy heart hid, I '11 discover liim ; And you, proud peat*^, I '11 make you curse your insolence.
Val. Tongue of an angel, and the truth of Heaven ! How am I blest ! [Aside, and then exit.
Sor. Podi'amo, go in haste [Aside to him.
To my sister's gentlewoman (you know her well). And bid her send her mistress presently The lesser cabinet she keeps her letters in,
' master'] " Seward reads * minister ', instead of 'master'; but unnecessarily. Evanthe means to call Sorano Frederick's master, or instructor in liis schemes of iniquity." Mason.
i gamester'] i. e. dissolute gallant : see note, vol. vi. 222.
'' peat] " i. e. pet [as before, p. 2.5.5]." Weber.
X 2
308
A WIFE FOR A MONTH.
[act I.
And such-like toys, and bring it to rae instantly. Away !
Pod. I am gone. [Exit.
Sor. The queen !
Fred. Let's quit the place ; she may grow jealous.
[Exeunt Frederick and Sorano.
Enter Maria, and two Ladies.
Mar. So suddenly departed ! what 's the reason ? Does my approach displease his grace ? are my eyes So hateful to him ? or my conversation Infected, that he flies me ? — Fair Evanthe ! Are you there? then I see his shame.
Evan. 'Tis true, madam, 'T has pleas'd his goodness to be pleasant with me.
Mar. 'Tis strange to find thy modesty in this place : Does the king offer fair ? does thy face take him ? Ne'er blush, Evanthe, 'tis a very sweet one : Does he rain gold, and precious promises^ Into thy lap ? will he advance thy fortunes ? Shalt thou be mighty, wench ?
Evan. Never mock, madam ; 'Tis rather on your part to be lamented. At least reveng'd. I can be mighty, lady. And glorious too, glorious and great as you are.
Mar. He will marry thee ?
Evan. Who would not be a queen, madam ?
Mar. 'Tis true, Evanthe ; 'tis a brave ambition, A golden dream, that may delude a good mind. What shall become of me ?
Evan. You must learn to pray ; Your age and honour will become a nunnery.
Mar. Wilt thou remember me ? [Weeps.
Evan. She weeps. — Sweet lady, [Kneels.
Upon my knees I ask your sacred pardon For my rude boldness ; and know, my sweet mistress. If e'er there were ambition in Evanthe, It was and is to do you faithful duties. 'Tis true I have been tempted by the king,
SCENE II.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 309
And with no few and potent charms^ to wrong you,
To \dolate the chaste joys of your bed ;
And, those not taking hokl, to usui'p your state :
But she, that has been bred up under you,
And daily fed upon yoiu' vii'tuous precepts.
Still growing strong by example of your goodness.
Having no errant motion from obedience,
Flies from these vanities as mere illusions,
And, arm'd with honesty, defies all promises :
In token of this truth, I lay my life down
Under your sacred foot, to do you ser^dce,
Mar. [liaising her] Eise, my true friend, thou virtuous bud of beauty ! Thou ^Tj'gins' honour', sweetly blow and flourish ! And that rude nipping wind that seeks to blast thee. Or taint thy root, be cui's'd to all posterity ! To my protection from this hour I take you ; Yes, and the king shall know
Evan. Give his heat way, madam. And ^twill go out again ; he may forget all. [Eweunt.
SCENE II. — Another apartment in the same.
Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.
Cam. What have we to do with the times? we cannot cm-e 'em. Let 'em go on : when they are swoln with surfeits, They '11 burst and stink; then all the world shall smell 'em.
Cle. A man may live a bawd, and be an honest man.
Men. Yes, and a wise man too ; 'tis a virtuous calling.
Cam. To his own wife especially, or to his sister ; The nearer to his oym blood, still the honester : There want such honest men ; would Ave had more of 'em !
Men. To be a villain is no such rude matter.
Cam. No, if he be a neat one, and a perfect : Art makes all excellent. What is it, gentlemen,
310 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
In a good cause to kill a dozen coxcombs', That blunt rude fellows call good patriots ? Nothing, nor ne'er looked after.
Men. 'Tis e'en as much, As easy too, as honest, and as clear. To ravish matrons, and deflower coy wenches : But here they are so willing, 'tis a compliment.
Cle. To pull down churches with pretension To build 'em fairer, may be done with honour ; And all this time believe no God.
Cam. I think so ; 'Tis faith enough if they name him in their angers. Or on their rotten tombs engrave an angel. Well, brave Alphonso, how happy had we been. If thou hadst reign' d !
Men. Would I had his disease. Tied, like a leprosy, to my posterity. So he were right again !
Cle. What is his malady ?
Cam. Nothing but sad and silent melancholy. Laden with griefs and thoughts, no man knows why neither. The good Brandino, father to the princes™, Us'd all the art and industry that might be,' To free Alphonso from this dull calamity. And seat him in his rule ; he was his eldest. And noblest too, had not fair Nature stopt in him. For which cause this was chosen to inherit, Frederick the younger.
Cle. Does he use his brother With that respect and honour that befits him ?
Cam. He is kept privately, as they pretend. To give more ease and comfort to his sickness ; But he has honest servants, the grave Rugio And friar Marco, that wait upon his person. And in a monastery he lives.
Men. 'Tis full of sadness. To see him when he comes to his father's tomb
' coxcomhs'\ i. e. fools ; sec note, vol. iii. 123.
"' princes^^ The folios "Princessc " and " Princess".
SCENE IT.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 311
(As once a day that is liis pilgrimage), Whilst in devotion the quire sings an anthem, How piously he kneels, and, like a virgin That some cross fate had cozened of her love. Weeps till the stubborn marble sweats with pity. And to his groans the whole quire bears a chorus.
Enter Frederick, Sorano with a cabinet, and Podramo.
Cam. So do I too. — The king, with his contrivers ! This is no place for us.
[Exeunt Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.
Fred. This is a jewel ; Lay it aside. What paper ^s that ?
Pod. A letter ; But 'tis a woman's, sir, I know by the hand And the false orthogi'aphy ; they write old Saxon.
Fred. May be her ghostly mother's that instructs her.
Sor. No, 'tis a cousin's, and came up with a great cake.
Fred. What 's that ?
Sor. A pair of gloves the duchess gave her ; For so the outside says.
Fred. That other paper ?
Sor. A charm for the tooth-ache ; here 's nothing but saints and crosses.
Fred. Look in that box ; methinks that should hold secrets.
Pod. 'Tis paint, and curls of hair ; she begins to exercise. A glass of water too : I would fain taste it. But I am wickedly afraid 'twill silence me ; Never a conduit-pipe to convey this water ?
Sor. These are all rings, death's-heads^ and such mementos. Her grandmother and worm-eaten aunts left to her. To tell her what her beauty must arrive at.
Fred. That, that ?
Pod. They are written songs, sii', to provoke young ladies. Lord, here 's a prayer-book ! how these agree ! Here 's a strange union !
Sor. Ever by a surfeit You have a julep set, to cool the patient.
Fred. Those, those?
312 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
Sor. They are verses ; To the blest Evanthe.
Fred. Those may discover. Read them out^ Sorano.
Sor. [reads]
TO THE BLEST EVANTHE.
Let those complain that feel Love's cruelty,
And in sad legends ivrite their woes ; With roses gently h'as corrected me, My war is without rage or blows :
My mistress' eyes shine fair on my desires, And hope springs up in flam' d with her new fires.
No more an exile will I dwell,
With folded arms, and sighs all day, Reckoning the torments of my hell, And flinging my sweet joys away :
I am call'd home again to quiet peace ;
My mistress smiles, and all my sorrows cease.
Yet, what is living in her eye,
Or being blest with her sweet tongue, If these no other joys imply ?
A golden gyve, a pleasing wrong :
To be your own but one poor month, 1 'd give My youth, my fortune, and then leave to live.
Fred. This is my rival ; that I knew the hand now \ Sor. I know it_, I have seen it ; 'tis Valerio's, That hopeful gentleman's that was brought up With you, and by your charge nourish'd and fed. At the same table, with the same allowance.
Fred. And all this courtesy to ruin me ? Cross my desires ? h'ad better have fed humbher. And stood at greater distance from my fury ; — Go for him quickly, find him instantly. Whilst my impatient heart swells liigh with choler ; — Better have lov'd Despair, and safer kiss'd her.
[Exeunt Sorano and Podramo.
Enter Evanthe and Cassandra. Evan. Thou old weak fool ! dost thou know to what end.
SCENE II.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 313
To what betra\ang end, he got this casket ? Durst thou deliver him, without my ring, Or a command from mine own mouth, that cabinet That holds my heart ? you unconsiderate ass, You brainless idiot !
Cas. I saw you go Avith him, At the first word commit your person to him. And make no scruple : he is your brother^s gentleman, And, for any tiling I know, an honest man ; And might not I upon the same security Deliver him a box ?
Evan. A bottle-head !
Fred. You shall have cause to chafe, as I will handle it.
[^Aside.
Evan. I had rather thou hadst deliver'd me to pirates, Betray'd me to uncurable diseases. Hung up my pictui'e in a market-place ", And sold me to vild" bawds !
Cas. As I take it, madam. Your maidenhead lies not in that cabinet ; You have a closer, and you keep the key too : Why are you vexM thus ?
Evan. I could curse thee wickedly. And wish thee more deformM than age can make thee ! Perpetual hunger, and no teeth to satisfy iti", Wait on thee still, nor sleep be found to ease it !
n Hung %bp my picture in a marJcet-placc'] " This seems to allude to a custom which formerly was frequent at Naples, of hanging up the pictvures of the most celebrated courtezans in the public parts of the town, to serve as directions where they Uved. See Mrs. Behn's play of The Rover, or the Banished Cavaliers, where the scene is laid in the same place." Reed. — " The same allusion occm's in Pericles, Pri^ice of Tyre [act iv. sc. 3]," &c. Weber.
" vild'\ i. e. vile : see note, vol. i. 331. — The foUos "wilde" and "wild"; and so SjTiipson, though he proposed to read " vild " : his successors printed " vile". — We have had already in these plays instances of " vild " bemg mistaken for "wild" by the old printers : see notes, vol. i. 368, vol. ii. 93, vol. iii. 50, 521, vol. vi. 362. So too m the Sec. Part of Marlowe's Tamhurlaine, act v. sc. 1, where the 8vo gives rightly " Vild tyrant ! barbai'ous bloody Tambui'- laine !" the 4to has « Wild".
p no teeth to satisfy it] " Sympson proposes to read ' no meat to satisfy it,' instead of 'teeth'; but the latter is the better expression. The want of teeth is more tantalising than the want of meat." Masox.
314 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
Those hands that gave the casket^ may the palsy For ever make unuseful^ even to feed thee ! Long winters, that thy bones may turn to isicles No hell can thaw again, inhabit by thee ! Is thy care like thy body, all one crookedness ? How sciu-vily thou criest now, like a drunkard ! I '11 have as pure tears from a dirty spout. Do, swear thou didst this ignorantly, swear it. Swear and be damn'd, thou half-witch !
Cas. These are fine words : Well, madam, madam
Evan. 'Tis not well, thou mummy ! 'Tis impudently, basely done, thou dirty
Fred. Has your young sanctity done railing, madam. Against your innocent squire ? Do you see this sonnet. This loving script ? do you know from whence it came too ?
Evan. I do, and dare avouch it pure and honest.
Fred. You have private visitants, my noble lady. That in sweet numbers court your goodly virtues. And to the height of adoration.
Evan. Well, sir. There 's neither heresy nor treason in it.
Fred. A prince may beg at the door, whilst these feast with you ; A favour or a grace from such as I am. Coarse common things
Enter Valeric with Podramo.
You are welcome. Pray, come near, sir : Do you know this paper ?
Val. I am betray'd [Asidel . — I do, sir ; ^Tis mine, my hand and heart. — If I die for her, I am thy martyr. Love, and time shall honour me. [Aside.
Cas. You saucy sir, that came in my lady's name For her gilt cabinet, you cheating sir too. You scurvy usher, with as scurvy legs And a worse face, thou poor base hanging-holder 'i,
'I thou poor base hanr/ing-holder'] Compare The Wild-Goose-Chase, act iii. sc. 1 ; " One that is tlu'ouglily pac'd, a clean-made gentleman, Can hold a hnvr/lnrj up with approbation," &c.
vol. viii. l(i().
SCENE II.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 316
How durst thou come to me with a he iu thy mouth. An impudent He
Pod. Holla, good Gill ! you hobble.
Cas. A stinking lie, more stinking than the teller. To play the pilfering knave ? There have been rascals Brought up to fetch and carry, like your worship. That have been hang'd for less ; whipt there are daily ; And, if the law will do me right
Pod. What then, old maggot ?
Cas. Thy mother was carted younger : — I ^11 have thy hide. Thy mangy hide, embroider'd with a dog-whip. As it is now mth potent pox, and thicker.
Fred. Peace, good antiquity ! I '11 have yom' bones else Ground into gunpoAvder to shoot at cats with ; One word more, and I '11 blanch thee like an almond : There 's no such cui'e for the she-falling sickness As the powder of a dried bawd's skin. Be silent ! — You are very prodigal of your service here, sir ; Of yoiu' life more, it seems.
Val. I repent neither. Because your grace shall understand it comes From the best part of love, my pure affection ; And, kindled with chaste flame, I will not fly from it. If it be error to desire to marry. And mai'ry her that sanctity would dote on, I have done amiss ; if it be a treason To graft my soul to virtue, and to grow there. To love the tree that bears such happiness (Conceive me, su'; this fruit was ne'er forbidden). Nay, to desire to taste too, I am traitor. Had you but plants enough of this blest tree, sir. Set round about your court, to beautify it. Deaths twice so many, to dismay the approachers. The ground would scarce yield graves to noble lovers.
Fred. 'Tis well maintain'd. You -wish and pray to Fortune, Here in your sonnet, (and she has heard yom* prayers,) So much you dote upon your g\\\\ undoing. But one month to enjoy her as _your wife, Though at the expiring of that time you die for 't.
316 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act i.
Val. I could wish many, many ages, sir ; To grow as old as Time in her embraces. If Heaven would grant it, and you smile upon it ; But, if my choice were two hours, and then perish, I would not pull my heart back.
Fred. You have your wish : To-morrow I will see you nobly married ; Your month take out in all content and pleasure ; The first day of the following month you die for 't. Kneel not : not all your prayers can divert me. — Now mark your sentence ; mark it, scornful lady ! If, when Valerio's dead, within twelve hours (For that ^s your latest time) you find not out Another husband, on the same condition To marry you again, you die yourself too.
Evan. Now you are merciful, I thank your grace.
Fred, If, when you are married, you but seek to scape Out of the kingdom, you, or she, or both. Or to infect men^s minds with hot commotions. You die both instantly. — Will you love me now, lady ? My tale will now be heard ; but now I scorn you.
[Exeunt all except Valerio and Evanthe.
Evan. Is our fair love, our honest, our entire. Come to this hazard ?
Val. ^Tis a noble one, And I am much in love with malice for it ; Envy could not have stvidied me a way. Nor Fortune pointed out a path to honour, Straighter and nobler, if she had her eyes. When I have once enjoy'd my sweet Evanthe, And blest my youth Avith her most dear embraces, I have done my journey here, my day is out ; All that the world has else is foolery. Labour, and loss of time : what should I Live for ? Think but man's life a month, and we are happy. I would not have my joys grow old for any thing : A Paradise, as thou art, my Evanthe, Is only made to wonder at a little, Enough for human eyes, and then to wander from.
SCENE 1.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 317
Come, do not weep, sweet ; you dishonour me ; Yoiu' tears and griefs but question my ability. Whether I dare die. Do you love entirely?
Evan. You know I do.
Val. Then grudge not my felicity.
Evan. I '11 to the queen.
Val. Do any thing that 's honest ; But, if you sue to liim, in death I hate you.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT 11.
SCENE l.—A street.
Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.
Cam. Was there ever heard of such a marriage ?
Men. Marriage and hanging go by destiny ; 'Tis the old proverb ; now they come together.
Cle. But a month married, then to lose his life for 't ? I would have a long month sure, that pays the soldiers''.
' / would have a long month sure, that pays the soldiers'\ Here Webei' cites The Witch of Edmonton, by Rowley, Dekker, and Ford, act iii. sc. 1 ;
" Cuddy. Yes, I was ten days together there the last Slu'ove-tide.
Sec. Clown. How could that be, when there are but seven days in the week ?
Cuddy. Prithee, peace ! I reckon stila nova as a traveller : thou under- standest as a fresh-water farmer, that never saw a week beyond sea. Ask any soldier that ever received his pay but in the Low-Countries, and he Ml tell thee there are eight days in the week there, hard by."
And GUI' author's Fair Maid of the Inn, act iv. sc. 2 ;
" Ped. I have another business too, because I mean to leave Italy, and bury myself in those nether parts of the LowCotmtries.
For. What 's that, sir ?
Ped. Marry, I would fain make nine days to the week, for the more ample benefit of the captain."
On the first of these passages, Gifford quotes Butler's Hiidilrras, P. ii. C. i. 513 ; " The soldier does it every day. Eight to the week, for sixpence pay."
318 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act n.
Cam. Or get all the almanacks bui'iit (that were a rare trick), And have no month remember'd.
Enter Tony, ^cith an urinal.
How noWj Tony? Whose water are you casting ?
Tony. A sick gentleman's. Is very sick, much troubled with the stone ; He should not live above a month, by his urine : About St. David's Day it will go hard with him; He will then be troubled with a pain in his neck too.
Men. A pestilent fool ! — When wilt thou marry, Tony ?
Tony. When I mean to be hang'd; and 'tis the surer contract.
Cle. What think you of this marriage of Valerio's ?
Tony. They have given him a hot custard. And mean to burn his mouth with it. Had I known He had been given to die honourably, I would have help'd him to a wench, a rare one. Should have kill'dhim in three weeks, and sav'd the sentence.
Cai7i. There be them would have spar'd ten days of that too.
Tony. It may be so ; you have women of all virtues : There be some guns that I could bring him to. Some mortar-pieces that are plac'd i' the subiu-bs^ Would tear him into quarters in two hours ; There be also of the race of the old cockatrices. That would despatch him with once looking on him.
Men. What month wouldst thou choose, Tony, If thou hadst the like fortune ?
Tony. I would choose A mull'd-sack month, to comfort my belly ; for sure My back would ache for 't ; and, at the month's end, I would be most dismally drunk, and scorn the gallows.
Men. I would choose March, for I would come in Hke a lion.
" suburhs] " The outskirts of towns were anciently the peeuhar and privileged residence of strumpets." Weber.
SCENE I,] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 319
Tony. But you'd go out like <i lamb, when you went to hanging.
Cam. I would take April, take the sweet o' th' year, And kiss my wench upon the tender flo^^^L•ets, Tumble on every gi'een, and, as the birds sung, Embrace, and melt away my soul in pleasure.
Tony. You would go a-Maying gaily to the gallows.
Cle. Prithee, tell us some news.
Tony. I '11 tell ye all I know : You may be honest, and poor fools, as I am. And blow yom' fingers' ends.
Cam. That 's no news, fool.
Tony. You may be knaves, then, when you please, stark knaves. And build fair houses ; but your heirs shall have none of 'em.
Men. These are undoubted.
Tony. Truth is not worth the hearing. I '11 tell you news, then : there was a drunken sailor, That got a mermaid with child as she went a-milking, And now she sues him in the bawdy-court for it ; The infant monster is brought up in Fish-street.
Cam. Ay, this is something.
Tony. I '11 tell you more : there was a fish taken, A monstrous fish, with a sword by his side, a long sword, A pike in 's neck, and a gun in 's nose, a huge gun. And letters of mart* in 's mouth from the Dulie of Florence.
Cle. This is a monstrous lie.
To7iy. I do confess it : Do you think I would tell you truths, that dare not hear 'em? You are honest things we courtiers scorn to converse with.
[Exit.
Cam. A plaguy fool ! But let 's consider, gentlemen, Wliy the queen strives not to oppose this sentence : The kingdom's honour suffers in this cruelty.
Men. No doubt the queen, though she be virtuous, Winks at the marriage ; for by that only means The king's flame lessens to the youthful lady,
' letters of marf] See note, p. 1 6.
320 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act n.
If not goes out : within this month, I doubt not,
She hopes to rock asleep his anger also.
Shall we go see the preparation ?
'Tis time, for strangers come to view the wonder.
Cam. Come, let ^s away. Send my friends happier weddings !
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. — An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Maria and Evanthe.
Mar. You shall be merry ; come, I '11 have it so : Can there be any nature so unnoble. Or anger so inhuman, to pursue this ?
Evan. I fear there is.
Mar. Your fears are poor and foolish. Though he be hasty, and his anger death, His will, like torrents, not to be resisted. Yet law and justice go along to guide him ; And what law or what justice can he find To justify his Avill ? what act or statute. By human or divine establishment. Left to direct us, that makes marriage death ? Honest fair wedlock ? 'Twas given for increase. For preservation of mankind, I take it ; He must be more than man, then, that dare break it. Come, dress you handsomely (you shall have my jewels). And put a face on that contemns base Fortune ; 'Twill make him more insult to see you fearful : Outlook" his anger.
Evan. Oh, my Valerio ! Be witness, my piu-e mind, 'tis thee I grieve for !
Mar. But shew it not. I would so crucify him With an innocent neglect of what he can do, A brave strong pious scorn, that I would shake him. Put all the wanton Cupids in thine eyes,
" Outlook'\ "i.e. facedown." Weber.
SCENE II ] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 321
And all the graces on that Nature gave thee ; Make up thy beauty to that height of excellence (I ^11 help thee, and forgive thee), as if Venus Were now again to catch the God of War In his most rugged anger. When thou hast him (As 'tis impossible he should resist thee), And kneeling at thy conquering feet for mercy, Then shew thy vii^tue, then again despise him, And all his power ; then, with a look of honour Mingled with noble chastity, strike hira dead.
Evan. Good madam, dress mc ; You arm me bravely.
Mar. Make him know his cruelty Begins with him first ; he must suffer for it ; And that thy sentence is so welcome to thee. And to thy noble lord, you long to meet it. Stamp such a deep impression of thy beauty Into his soul, and of thy worthiness. That when Valerio and Evanthe sleep In one rich earth, hung round about with blessings. He may run mad, and curse his act. Be lusty ; I '11 teach thee how to die too, if thou fear'st it.
Evan. I thank your grace : you have prepar'd mc strongly ; And my weak mind
Mar. Death is unwelcome never. Unless it be to tortur'd minds and sick souls, That make their own hells ; it is such a benefit When it comes crown'd with honour, shews so sweet too ! Though they paint it ugly, that 's but to restrain us. For every living thing would love it else. Fly boldly to their peace ere Nature call'd 'em : The rest we have from labour and from trouble Is some incitement ; every thing alike, The poor slave that lies private ^ has his liberty As amply as his master in that tomb,
^ private'\ " Means obscure, or undistinguished ; as we say, a private man, a private soldier." Mason.
VOL. IX. Y
322 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act ii.
The earth as light upon him ", and the flowers
That grow about him smell as sweet, and flourish ;
But, when we love "' with honour to our ends,
When Memory and Virtue ^' are our mom-ners,
What pleasures there ! they are infinite, Evanthe.
Only, my virtuous wench, we want our senses,
That benefit we are barr'd ; 'twould make us proud else.
And lazy y to look up to happier life.
The blessings of the people would so swell us.
Evan. Good madam, dress me ; you have drest my soul : The merriest bride I '11 be, for all this misery. The proudest to some eyes too.
Mar, 'Twill do better ; Come, shrink no more.
Evan. I am too confident. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — Another apartment in the same.
Enter Frederick and Sorano. Sor. You are too remiss, and wanton in your angers ; You mould things handsomely, and then neglect 'em :
' in that tomb,
The earth as light iqmi him, &c.] Seward, because " no particular tomb had
been specified ", would read,
" in the tomh
The earth 's as light upon him," &c. and Mason thought him right in reading « the tomh ". — According to Heath {MS. Notes), " ' that ' is by way of emphasis, the tomb which attracts the eyes of spectators ", — a strange interpretation to proceed from one who had just before explained "private" — "without a monument." — Weber sagaciously observes, in defence of « that ", that " the queen may be supposed to point to a tomb from the window" !! — Sm'ely, "that tomb" means nothing more than— the tomb the idea of which is implied in what has been previously said con- cerning death, &c. ^ love'\ Qy. "live"?
" Virtioe} So the second folio.— The first foho " vertues " ; and so the modern editors (" virtues ").
y lazi/} " The last editors [of 1778] wsh to read ' crazy ', and say they have no doubt that ' lazy ' is a corruption. But ' laz7j ' is clearly the right reading, and signifies indolent or careless. The queen means to say, that if we enjoyed our senses in the grave, we should be so proud and delighted with the praises and blessings of the people, that we should not be anxious for a state of more perfect happiness." Mason.
scENK III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 323
A powerful prince should be constant to liis poMcr still, And hold up what he builds ; then people fear him. When he lets loose his hand, it shews a weakness, And men examine or contemn his greatness : A scorn of this high kind should have call'd up A revenge equal, not a pity in yon.
Fy'ed. She is thy sister.
So7\ An she were my mother. Whilst I conceive 'tis you she has wrong'd ^, I hate hei*, And shake her nearness off. I study, sir, To satisfy your angers that are just, Before your pleasures.
Fred. I have done that already, I fear, has pull'd too many curses on me.
Sor. Curses or envies, on Valerio's head (Would you take my counsel, sir) they should all light. And with the weight not only crack his sciill. But his fail* credit. The exquisite vexation I have de^ds'd (so please you give way in 'i, And let it work) shall more afflict his soul. And trench upon that honour that he brags of, Than fear of death in all the frights he carries. If you sit down here, they will both abuse you, Laugh at your poor relenting power, and scorn you, "VA^iat satisfaction can their deaths bring to you, That are prepar'd and proud to die, and willingly, And at their ends will thank you for that honour ? How are you nearer the desire you aim at ? Or, if it be revenge your anger covets. How can theii* single deaths give you content, sir ? Petty revenges end in blood, slight angers ; A prince's rage should find out new diseases Death were a pleasure to=>, to pay proud fools with.
' conceive 'tis yov, she has wrong'd] So the second folio. — The first foHo " con- ceive she has you wronf/'d ".
« to] Both the fohos have " too " ; and so Sympson and the Editors of 1778, — ^MasoD (who first corrected the slight error of the press, and gave the right punctuation) observes that the meaning is " that a prince's rage should suggest new toi-mcnts, compared with which death itself would be a pleasure."
V 2
324 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act ii.
Fred. What should I do ?
Sor. Add but your power unto me^ Make me but strong by your protection. And you shall see what joy and Avhat delight. What infinite pleasure this poor month shall yield him. I '11 make him wish he were dead on 's marriage-day, Or bed-rid with old age ; I '11 make him curse, And cry and curse, give me but power.
Fred. You have it : Here, take my ring ; I am content he pay for 't.
[Gives ring.
Sor. It shall be now revenge, as I will handle it ; He shall live after this to beg his life too : Twenty to one, by this thread, as I '11 weave it, Evanthe shall be yours.
Fred. Take all authority. And be most happy !
Sor. Good sir, no more pity ! [Exeunt severally.
SCENE IV.— Before the door of the Hall of the Palace.
Enter Tony, i/iree Citizens, and three "Wives. First Wife. Good Master Tony, put me in. Tony. Where do you dwell? First Wife. Forsooth, at the sign of the Great Shoulder of
Mutton. Tony. A hungry man would hunt your house out instantly: Keep the dogs from your door. Is this lettice-ruff^ your
husband ? A fine sharp sallad to yom* sign.
Sec. Wife. Will you put me in too ? Third Wife. And me, good Master Tony ? Tony. Put ye all in ! You had best come twenty more ; you think 'tis easy, A trick of legerdemain, to put ye all in :
* lettice-ruff] Or lattice-ruff, — i. e. a ruff with reticulated worii.
SCENE IV.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH, 325
'Twould pose a fellow that had twice my body^ Though it were all made iuto chines and fillets.
Sec. Wife. Put 's in to the wedding, sir ; we would fain see that.
First Wife. And the brave masque too.
Tony. You two are pretty women. — Ai'e you their husbands ?
Sec. at. Yes, for want of better.
Tony. I think so too ; you would not be so mad else To turn 'em loose to a company of young courtiers, That swarm like bees in May, when they see young wenches. — You must not squeak.
Third Wife. No, sir ; we are better tutor'd.
Tony. Nor, if a young lord offer you the courtesy''
Sec. Wife. We know what 'tis, sir.
Tony. Nor you must not grumble, If you be thrust up hard ; we thrust most furiously.
First Wife. We know the worst.
Tony. Get you two in, then, quietly,
[Suffers First and Second Wife to pass in. And shift for yourselves. — We must have no old women. They are out of use, unless they have petitions ; Besides, they cough so loud, they drown the music. — You would go in too ? but there is no place for ye ; I am sorry for 't ; go, and forget your wives ; Or pray they may be able to suffer patiently : You may have heirs may prove wise aldermen : Go, or I '11 call the guard.
Third Cit. We will get in ; We '11 venture broken pates else.
Tony. 'Tis impossible. You are too securely arm'd.
[Ea^eimt Citizens and third Wife.
'' Nor, if a yowuj lord offer you tJie courtesy ] " This scene ridicules the
crowding of citizens to the court-masques, in the reigns of James and Charles I., where it appears the citizens' wives who possessed any share of beauty were admitted, while their unfortunate husbands were contemptuously rejected," &e. Weber. Sec note, vol. ii. 47f».
326 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act n.
How they flock liitlier, And witli wliat joy the women run by heaps To see this marriage ! they tickle to think of it ; They hope for every month a husband too. Still how they run^ and how the wittols *= follow 'em ! The weak things that are worn between the legs. That brushing, dressing, nor new naps can mend. How they post to see their own confusion ! This is a merry world.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. Look to the door, sirrah ; Thou art a fool, and mayst do mischief lawfully.
Tomj. Give me your hand : you are my brother fool ; You may both make the law, and mar it presently. Do you love a wench ?
Fred. Who does not, fool ?
Tony. Not I, Unless you will give me a longer lease to marry her.
Fred. What are all these that come ? what business have they?
Tony. Some come to gape, — those are my fellow-fools ; Some to get home their wives, — those be their own fools ; Some to rejoice with thee, — those be the time's fools ; And some, I fear, to curse thee, — those are poor fools, A set, people call them honest ''.
Cassandra passes over the stage.
Look, look, king, look ! A weather-beaten lady new-careen'd ! Fred. An old one.
"^ wittols] " i, e. patient cuckolds conscious of tlieii' wives' infidelity." Weber.
<i those are poor fools,
A set, people call them honest] The folios have no comma after " set ". — Seward proposed to read " Yet 'people call them honest ", and Sympson " And yet people", &.C The Editors of 1778 supposed that "A set peopjle" might per- haps signify — formal, precise people. — Heath (MS. Notes) conjectm-ed " A set of people", &c. — Mason first gave the right punctuation, comparing what Sorano
says (act v. sc. 3), —
" They are such
The foolish people call their country's honours," &c.
SCENE v.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 327
Tony. The glasses of her ej^es are uew-rubb^d over, And the worm-eaten records in her face Ai-e daubed up neatly ;
She lays her breasts out too, like two^' poach'd eggs That had the yelks* suck'd out. They get new heads also, New teeth, new tongues, (for the old are all worn out,) And, as ^tis liop'd, new tails.
Fred. For what ?
Tomj. For old courtiers ; The young ones are too stirring for their travels.
Fred. Go, leave your knavery, and help to keep the door well; I Avill have no such press.
Tony. Lay thy hand o' thy heart, king.
Fred. I '11 have you whipp'd.
Tony. The fool and thou are ? parted. [Exit.
Fred. Sorano, work, and free me from this spell : ^Twixt love and scorn there ^s nothing felt but hell. [Exit.
SCENE V. — An apartment in the same.
Valeric discovered, Servants assisting to dress him ; Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.
Vol. Tie on my scarf; you are so long about me ! — Good my lords, help : — give me my other cloak ; That hat and feather. — Lord, what a tailor 's this. To make me up thus strait ! one sigh would burst me ; I have not room to breathe. — Come, button, button. Button, apace.
Cam. I am glad to see you merry, sir.
Val. 'T would make you merry, had you such a wife. And such an age to enjoy her in.
Men. An age, sir !
Val. A month 's an age to him that is contented ;
« two\ Both the foUos " to ".
' ydlcs\ i. e. yolks. — The modern editors print " yolks " .
B are] So the first folio. — The second folio " art " ; and so the modern editors.
328 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [actii.
What should I seek for more ? — Give me my sword. — Hrj my good lords ! that every one of you now Had but a lady of that youth and beauty To bless yourselves this night with ! would ye not ? Pray ye, speak uprightly.
Cle. We confess you happy. And we could well wish such another banquet ; But, on that price, my lord
Val. ^Twere nothing, else ; No man can ever come to aim at Heaven, But by the knowledge of a hell. — These shoes are heavy. And, if I should be caird to dance, they '11 clog me ; Get me some pumps. — I '11 tell you, brave Camillo, And you, dear friends ; the king has honour'd me, Out of his gracious favour, has much honour'd me. To limit me my time ; for who would live long ? Who would be old ? 'tis such a weariness. Such a disease, that hangs like lead upon us. As it increases, so vexations. Griefs of the mind, pains of the feeble body, Rheums, coughs, catarrhs ; we are but our living coffins : Beside, the fair soul 's old too, it grows covetous ; Which shews all honour is departed from us. And we are earth again.
Cle. You make fair use, sir.
Val. I would not live to learn to lie, Clcanthes, For all the world ; old men are prone to that too. — Thou that hast been a soldier, Menallo, A noble soldier, and defied all danger. Adopted thy brave arm the heir to victory, Wouldst thou live so long till thy strength forsook thee ? Till thou grew'st only a long tedious story Of what thou hadst been ? till thy sword hung" by. And lazy spiders fiU'd the hilt with cobwebs ?
Men. No, sure, I would not.
Val. 'Tis not fit you should : To die a young man is to be an angel;
B hmuj] Both the fohos " hang " ; and so the modern editors.
SCENE VI.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 329
Our great good parts put wings unto oiu* souls''. — Pray you^ tell me, is 't a handsome masque we liave ?
Cam. We understand so.
Val. And the young gentlemen dance ?
Cle. They do, sir; and some dance well.
Val. They must, before the ladies. We '11 have a rouse' before we go to bed, friends, A lusty one ; 'twill make my blood dance too.
Cam. TenJ, if you please.
Val. And we '11 be wondrous merry. [Music within.
They stay, sure : come ; I hear the music ; forward ! You shall have all gloves presently.
Men. We attend, sir ; [E.vit Valerio.
But first we must look to the doors ; the king has charg'd
VIS. [Exeunt.
SCENE Yl.— The Hall of the Palace. A curtain in the back-ground.
Enter two Servants. {^Knocking icithin.
First Serv. What a noise do you keep there ! — Call my fellows o' the guard. — You must cease now until the king be enter'd ; He is gone to the temple now.
Sec. Serv. Look to that back door, And keep it fast ; they swarm like bees about it.
Enter Camillo, Cleantues, Menallo ; Tony folloicinf/, icho
remains at the door. Cam. Keep back those citizens ; and let their wives in. Their handsome wives.
'■ Our great good parts put xvings unto our souls] Is followed in both the old eds. by
" We 'U have a rouse before we go to bed, friends," a line which they repeat px'eseutly. The intemicdiate Uiies, we may presume, had been crossed out in the prompter's book.
' roxise] i. e. bumper, — druiking-bout : see Gilford's note on Massinger's Works, i. 240, ed. 1813.
' Ten] i. e., as Mason saw, ton rouses. — The Editors of 1778 supposed that a fiuiliblc was intended here, referring " Ten " to the preceding word " loo " — two.
330 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [actii.
Tony. They have crowded me to verjuice ; I sweat Hke a butter-box.
First Serv. Stand further off there !
Men. Take the women aside, and talk with 'em in private ; Give 'em that they came for.
Tony. The whole court cannot do it ; Besides, the next masque, if we use 'em so. They 'U come by millions to expect our largess. We have broke a hundred heads.
Cle. Are they so tender ?
Tony. But 'twas behind; before they have all murrionsJ.
Cam. Let in those ladies; make 'em room, for shame there !
Tony. They are no ladies ; there 's one bald before 'em ; A gentlewoman bald ! they are curtail'd queans in hir'd
clothes ^ : They come out of Spain, I think ; they are very sultry.
Men. Keep 'em in breath for an ambassador : Methinks, my nose shakes at their memories. What bouncing 's that ? [Knocking within.
First at. [within] I am one of the music, sir.
Sec. at. [within] I have sweet-m^ts for the banquet.
Cam. Let 'em in.
Tony. They lie, my lord : they come to seek their wives ; Two broken citizens.
Cam. Break 'em more ; they are but brusled' yet. — Bold rascals ! offer to disturb your wives ?
Cle. Lock the doors fast. The music, hark ! the king comes. [Music within.
J murrions'] " Properly morions, — helmets, casques." Weber. Tony means, — before, they are all well defended by their horns.
k A gentlewoman bald ! they are curtaWd queans in hir^d clothes'] " The bald- ness alluded to was the consequence of the venereal disease. They are probably called ' curtail'd queans ', in allusion to the short mantles [waistcoats] anciently worn by prostitutes." Weber. See note, vol. i. 39.
1 hrusled] " Mason proposes to read ' bruised ' ; but the old text is right. Brusle occurs with the same signification in these plays as hrustle, which Skinner explains to crachlc, to make a small noise." Weber. — And see the various Pro- vincial Glossaries : but, surely, the context shews that, in the present passage, " Irusled " must mean — slightly broken.
SCENE VI.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 331
Enter Frederick, Maria, Valerio, Evanthe, Sorano, Ladies, and Attendants.
A Masque. The curtain is drawn. Cupid, icith his eyes hound., descends in a chariot^ the Graces sitting hy him. Cupid. Unbind me, my ddiglit ; this night is mine.
[The Graces unbiiid his eyes. Noiv let me look upon what stars here shine, Let me behold the beauties, then clap high My colour' d wings, proud of my deity. I am satisfied : bind me again, and fast ; My angry bote will make too great a ivaste Of beauty else. Noiv call my masquers in, Call with a song, and let the sports begin ; Call all my servants, the effects of love, And to a measure let them nobly move.
SONG BY THE GRACES.
Come, you servants of proud Love,
Come away ! Faii'ly, nobly, gently move : Too long, too long you make us stay. Fancy, Desii'e, Delight, Hope, Fear, Distinist, and Jealousy, be you too here ; Consuming Care, and imaging Ire, And Poverty in poor attire, March fairly in, and last Despair. Now fuU music strike the ah*.
Enter the Masquers, Fancy., Desire^ Delight, Hope, Fear, Distrust, Jealousy, Care, Ire, Poverty, Despair: they dance; after which Cupid speaks. Cupid. Atvay ! I have done ; the day begins to light. —
[Exeunt Masquers. Lovers, you know your fate ; good night, good night !
[Cupid and the Graces ascend in the chariot. Fred. Come, to the banquet : wheu that 's ended^ sii*, I '11 see you a-bed, and so, good night. Be merry ; You have a sweet bed-fellow.
Val. I thank your grace, And ever shall be bound unto your nobleness.
Fred. I pray I may deserve your thanks. Set forward !
[Exeunt.
332 A WIFE FOR A MONTH, [act hi.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — A Cathedral. A tomb in the back-ground.
Enter divers Friars '" leading in AlphOiNso ; Rdgio, and Marco.
Marco. The night grows on : lead softly to the tomb. And sing not till I bid ye ; let the music Play gently as he passes.
Rug. Oh, fair picture. That wert the living hope of all our honours ! How are we banish'd from the joy we dreamM of ! — Will he ne'er speak more ?
Marco. 'Tis full three months. Lord E-ugio, Since any articulate sound came from his tongue. Set him down gently. [Alphonso is set in a chair.
Rug. What should the reason be, sir ?
Marco. As 'tis in nature with those loving husbands That sympathise their wives' pains and their throes When they are breeding (and 'tis usual too ; We have it by experience), so in him, sir. In this most noble spirit that now suffers ; For, when his honour'd father, good Brandino, . Fell sick, he felt the griefs, and labour' d with them; His fits and his disease he still inherited. Grew the same thing, and, had not Nature check'd him, Strength and ability, he had died that hour too.
Rug. Emblem of noble love !
Marco. That very minute His father's breath forsook him, that same instant, (A rare example of his piety And love paternal) the organ of his tongue Was never heard to sound again : so near death
"' Friars] Here both the folios " Monks " : but see act iv. sc. 4, act v. sc. 1 .
SCENE 11.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 333
He seeks to wait upon liis wortlij^ father, But that we force his meat, he were one body.
Rug. He points to the tomb.
Marco. That is the place he honom's ; A house, I fear, he will not be long out of. He will to the tomb : good my lord, lend your hand.
[Alphonso is led to the tomb. Now sing the funeral song, and let him kneel, For then he is pleas'd. \_A song.
Rug. Heaven, lend thy powerful hand, And ease this prince !
Marco. He will pass back again. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Valeric. Val. They drink abundantly ; I am hot with wine too. Lustily warm. I '11 steal now to my happiness ; 'Tis midnight, and the silent hour invites me : But she is up still, and attends the queen. Thou dew of wine and sleep, hang on theii' eye-lids. Steep their dull senses in the healths they drink. That I may quickly find my lov'd Evanthe ! The king is merry too, and drank unto me ; Sign of fair peace. Oh, this night's blessedness ! If I had forty heads, I would give aU for it. Is not the end of oiu* ambitions, Of all our human studies, and our travels. Of our desires, the obtaining of our wishes ? Certain, it is ; and there man makes his centre. I have obtained Evanthe, I have married her : Can any fortune keep me from enjoying her ?
Enter Sorano. I have my wish ; what 's left me to accuse now ? — I am friends with all the world, but thy base malice : Go, glory in thy mischiefs, thou provid man.
334 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act hi.
And cry it to the worlds thou hast ruin'd virtue :
How I contemn thee and thy petty malice !
And with what scorn I look down on thy practice " !
Sor. You'll sing me a new song anon, Valerio, And wish these hot words
Val, I despise thee, fellow ! Thy threats or flatteries, all I fling behind me. I have my end, I have thy noble sister, A name too worthy of ^ thy blood : I have married her. And will enjoy her too.
Sor. 'Tis very likely.
Val. And that short month I have to bless me with her I '11 make an age : I '11 reckon each embrace A year of pleasure, and each night a jubilee. Every quick kiss a spring ; and, when I mean To lose myself in all delightfulness. Twenty sweet summers I will tie together : In spite of thee and thy malignant master, I will die old in love, though young in pleasure.
Sor. But that I hate thee deadly, I could pity thee ; Thou art the poorest miserable thing This day on earth ; I '11 tell thee why, Valerio : All thou esteem' st, and build' st upon for happiness. For joy, for pleasure, for delight, is past thee. And, like a wanton dream, already vanish'd.
Val. Is my love false?
Sor. No, she is constant to thee ; Constant to all thy misery she shall be. And curse thee too.
Val. Is my strong body weaken' d. Charm' d, or abus'd with subtle drink ? speak, villain !
Sor. Neither ; I dare speak, thou art stiU as lusty As when thou lov'd'st her first, as strong and hopeful. The month thou hast given thee is a month of misery, And where thou think'st each hour shall yield a pleasure. Look for a killing pain, for thou shalt find it : Before thou diest, each minute shall prepare it,
° jiractlce'] See note, p. 6.
° of] " We should probably read ' for '." Mason.
SCENE II.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 335^
And ring so many knells to sad afflictions ; The king has given thee a long month to die in, And miserably die.
Val. Undo thy riddle ; I am prepai-'d, whatever fate shall follow.
Sor. Dost thou see this ring ?
Val. I know it too.
Sor. Then mark me : By virtue of this ring, this I pronounce to thee ; ^Tis the king's will.
Val. Let me know it suddenly.
Sor. If thou dost offer to touch Evanthe's body, Beyond a kiss, though thou art married to her. And lawfully, as thou tliink'st, mayst enjoy her. That minute she shall die.
Val. Oh, devil !
Sor. If thou discover this command unto her. Or to a friend that shall importune thee. And why thou abstain' st, and from whose will, ye all perish, Upon the self-same forfeit. Ai'e you fitted, sir? Now, if you love her, you may preserve her hfe still ; If not, you know the worst. How falls your month out ?
Val. This tyranny could never be invented But in the school of hell, earth is too innocent : Not to enjoy her when she is my wife ! When she is wUling too !
Sor. She is most willing. And will run mad to miss ; but, if you hit her. Be siu-e you hit her home, and kill her with it (There are such women that will die with pleasure). The axe will follow else, that will not fail To fetch her maidenhead, and despatch her quickly ; Then shall the world know you are the cause of murder. And, as 'tis requisite, your life shall pay for't.
Val. Thou dost but jest ; thou canst not be so monstrous As thou proclaun'st thyself; thou art her brother, And there must be a feeling heart within thee Of her afflictions : wert thou a stranger to us. And bred amongst wild rocks, thy nature wild too,
J36 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act hi.
Affection in thee, as thy breeding, cokl, And unrelenting as the rocks that nourish'd thee, Yet thou must shake to tell me this ; they tremble When the rude sea threatens divorce amongst 'em. They that are senseless things shake at a tempest ; Thou art a man
Sor. Be thou too, then ; 'twill try thee ; And patience now will best become thy nobleness.
Val. Invent some other torment to afflict me. All, if thou please, put all afflictions on me. Study thy brains out for 'em ; so this be none, I care not of what nature, nor what cruelty. Nor of what length.
Sor. This is enough to vex you.
Val. The tale of Tantalus is now prov'd true. And from me shall be register'd authentic : To have my joys within my arms, and lawful. Mine own delights, yet dare not touch ! Even as Thou hat'st me, brother, let no young man know this. As thou shalt hope for peace when thou most need'st it. Peace in thy soul ! Desire the king to kill me. Make me a traitor, any thing, I '11 yield to it. And give thee cause, so I may die immediately ; Lock me in prison where no sun may see me. In walls so thick no hope may e'er come at me. Keep me from meat, and drink, and sleep, I '11 bless thee ; Give me some damned potion to deliver me. That I may never know myself again, forget My country, kindred, name, and fortune ; last. That my chaste love may never appear before me ; This were some comfort.
Sor. All I have I have brought you, And much good may it do youP, my dear brother ! See you observe it well ; you will find about you Many eyes set, that shall o'erlook your actions : If you transgress, you know — and so, I leave you. \_Exit.
P much good may it do you} So the second folio. — The first folio " m%ich may it do ye with it ".
SCENE 11.] A. WIFE FOR A MONTH. 337
Val. Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet'i;
[^Kneels. Look on my harmless youth ! Angels of pity, To whom I kneel, be merciful unto me, And from my bleeding heai't wipe off my sorrows ! The power, the pride, the malice, and injustice Of cruel men are bent against mine innocence : You that control the mighty wills of princes. And bow their stubborn aims, look on my weakness. And, when you please, and how, allay my miseries ! [Exit.
1 Val. Heaven he not angry, and I have some hope yet, &c.] In the first folio thus ; " Val. Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet, And tohen yon please, and hmv allay my miseries.
Enter Fredcricl: To whom 1 kneele be mercifuU imto me, Looke on my harmelesse youth Angels of pitty. And from my bleeding heart wipe off my son-owes, The power, the pride, the malice and uijustiee Of cniell men are bent against mine mnocence. You that controwle the mighty wills of Princes, And bow their stubborne armrs, look on my weaknesse, And when you please, and how, allay my miseries. Exit.
Fred. Hast thou been with him ?
Sor. Yes, and given him that Su'," &c. The second folio has only ;
" Val. Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet. [Exit.
Enter Frederick, and Sorano.
Fred. Hast thou been with him ?
Sor. Ye.s, and given him that Sii*," &c. Sjinpson, except that he printed " my innocence^'' and "stubborn Amies/' gave, in his text, the passage according to the first folio ; but he repeated it in a note, where he altered the punctuation, struck out the second line and the stage- direction " Enter Frederii'k''', and changed " armes " to " amis ". — The Editors of 1778 adopted his corrections, and also transposed the second and tliii'd lines. — Mason, observing that " ' stubborn ' is an epithet more applicable to the mind than the body," proposed to read "aims " instead of "arms ". — Weber omitted the second line, and the stage-direction, remarking that their insertion " may be accounted for by supposing that the mtermediate lines were crossed out ui the prompter's book, and afterwards restored according to the general practice pro- fessed by the editors of the first folio, without attending to the repetition of the line, and without transferring the stage-direction." He rejected the transposition made by the Editors of 1778 (which, I thmk, is absolutely necessary), as well as Mason's correction " aims " (which is undoubtedly the true reading ; see my jRemarks on Mr. CoUier^s and Mr. Knir/ht's editions of Shakespeare, p. 152-3). VOL. IX. Z
338 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act tii.
SCENE III. — Ante-room to a bed-chamber in the same.
Enter Frederick and Sorano.
Fred. Hast thou been with him ?
Sor. Yes^ and given him that^ sir, Will make him curse his birth, I told you which way. Did you but see him, sir, but look upon him, With what a troubled and dejected nature He walks now in a mist, with what a silence, As if he were the shroud he wrapt himself in. And no more of Valerio but his shadow. He seeks obscurity to hide his thoughts in. You would wonder and admu-e, for all you know it. His joUity is down, vail'd '^ to the ground, sir. And his high hopes of full dehghts and pleasures Are turnM tormentors to him, strong diseases.
Fred. But is there hope of her ?
Sor, It must fall necessary She must dislike him, quarrel with his person (For Avomen once deluded are next devils). And, in the height of that opinion, sir. You shall put on again, and she must meet you.
Fred. I am glad of this.
Sor. I ^11 tell you all the circumstance Within this hour. But, sure, I heard your grace. To-day as I attended, make some stops. Some broken speeches, and some sighs between ; And then your brother's name I heard distinctly. And some sad wishes after.
Fred. You are i' the right, sir ; I would he were as sad as I could wish him. Sad as the earth !
Sor. Would you have it so ?
Fred. Thou hear'st me. Though he be sick, with small hope of recover}^. That hope still lives, and men's eyes live upon it,
' vaiVdl i. e. lowered.
SCENE HI] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 339
And in their eyes tlicir Mislies : my Soraiio, Were he but cold once in the toml) he dotes on (As 'tis the fittest place for melancholy), My coui't should he another Paradise, And flow with all delights.
Sor. Go to your pleasures ; Let me alone with this : hope shall not trouble you, Nor he, three days.
Fred. I shall be bound unto thee.
Sor. I ^11 do it neatly too ; no doubt shall catch me.
Fred. Be gone. They are going to bed ; I '11 bid good night to 'em.
Sor. And mark the man : you '11 scarce know 'tis Valerio.
[Exit.
Filter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.
Cam. Cheer up, my noble lord ; the minute 's come. You shall enjoy the abstract of all sweetness. We did you wrong ; you need no wine to warm you, Desire shoots through your eyes like sudden wildfires.
Val. Beshrew me, lords, the wine has made me dull ; I am I know not what.
Fred. Good pleasure to you ! Good night and long too ! as you find your appetite. You may fall to.
Val. I do beseech your grace, [Aside to Frederick.
For which of all my loves and services Have I deserv'd this ?
Fred. I am not bound to answer you.
Val. Nor I bound to obey in unjust actions.
Fred. Do as you please; you know the penalty. And, as I have a soul, it shall be executed ! Nay, look not pale ; I am not us'd to fear, sir : If you respect your lady — Good night to you ! [Exit.
^ Val. But for respect to her, and to my duty. That reverent duty that I owe my sovereign, Which anger has no power to snatch me from. The good night should be thine, good night for ever ! —
[Aside. z 2
340 A WIFE FOR A MONTH, [act hi.
The king is wanton, lords ; he would needs know of me How many nick-chases I would make to-night.
Men. My lord, no doubt you '11 prove a perfect gamester.
Val. Faith, no ; I am unacquainted with the pleasure ; Bungle a set I may. — How my heart trembles, And beats my breast as it would break his way out ! —
[Aside. Good night, my noble friends.
Cle. Nay, we must see you Toward your bed, my lord.
Val. Good faith, it needs not ; 'Tis late, and I shall trouble you.
Cam. No, no; Till the bride come, sir
Val. I beseech you, leave me ; You will make me bashful else, I am so foolish ; Besides, I have some few devotions, lords, And he that can pray with such a book in "s arms
Cam. We ^11 leave you, then ; and a sweet night wait upon you !
Men. And a sweet issue of this sweet night crown you !
Cle. All nights and days be such till you grow old, sir !
Val. I thank ye :
[Exeunt Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo. 'tis a curse sufficient for me, A labour'd one too, though you mean a blessing. — What shall I do ? I am like a wretched debtor, That has a sum to tender on the forfeit Of all he is worth, yet dare not oflPer it. Other men see the sun, yet I must wink at it, And, though I know 'tis perfect day, deny it. My veins are all on fire, and burn like ^Etna, Youth and desire beat 'larums to my blood, And add fresh fuel to my warm affections. I must enjoy her ; yet, when I consider. When I collect myself, and weigh her danger. The tyrant's will, and his power taught to murder. My tender care controls my blood within me. And, like a cold fit of a pee\ish ague,
SCENE III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 34l
Creeps to my soul, and flings an ice upon mc,
That locks all powers of youth up : but prevention'^ —
Oh, what a blessedness 'twere to be old now,
To be unable, bed-rid with diseases,
Or halt on crutches to meet holy Hymen ;
VThat a rare benefit ! But I am cui's'd :
That that speaks other men most freely happy,
And makes all eyes hang on theii' expectations.
Must prove the bane of me, youth and ability.
She comes to bed; how shall I entertain her?
Enter Maria, Evanthe, Ladies, and Tony.
Tony. Nay, I come after too; take the fool with ye, For lightly^ he is ever one at weddings.
Mar. Evanthe, make you unready f, your lord stays for you; And, prithee, be merry.
Tony. Be very merry, chicken ; Thy lord will pipe to thee anon, and make thee dance too.
First Lady. Will he so, goodman Ass ?
Tony. Yes, goody filly : An you had such a pipe, that pip'd so sweetly. You would dance to death ; you have learnt your cinque-a- pace".
Evan. Your grace desires that that is too free in me ; I am meny at the heart.
Tony. Thou wilt be anon ; The young smug boy will give thee a sweet cordial.
Evan. I am so taken up in all my thoughts,
' That locks all powers of youth up : but prevmtio^v ] So the second folio.
— The first folio has no point after " up ", and places a semicolon at the end of the line. — Mason says, " If we read,
' That locks all powers of youth up by prevention ', the sentence will be sense and complete." But, as Weber observes, Mason's alteration is " very tame ".
' li(/htly] " i. e. commonly ." Mason.
' male you unready] " i. e. undi-ess yourself." Mason.
" ci'iique-a-pacc] Properly cinque-pace. See note, vol. vii. 156. (The same quibble ciyiqiK — sink occui's in Shakespeare's Much ado about Nothing, act ii. so. 1.)
342 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act in.
So possess' d^ madam, with the lawful sweets I shall this night partake of with my lord, So far transported (pardon my immodesty)-
Val Alas, poor wench, how shall I recompense thee !
[Aside.
Evan. That though they must be short, and snatch'd away too Ere they grow ripe, yet I shall far prefer 'em Before a tedious pleasure with repentance.
Val. Oh, how my heart aches ! [Aside.
Evan. Take off my jewels, ladies. And let my ruff loose : I shall bid good night to ye ; My lord stays here.
Mar. My wench, I thank thee heartily, For learning how to use thy few hours handsomely ; They will be years, I hope. Off with your gown now. — Lay down the bed there.
Tony. Shall I get into it. And warm it for thee ? a fool's fire is a fine thing : And I '11 so buss thee !
Mar. I '11 have you whipp'd, you rascal !
Tony. That will provoke me more. — I '11 talk with thy husband : He 's a wise man, I hope.
Evan. Good night, dear madam. — Ladies, no further service ; I am well. — I do beseech your grace to give us this leave ; My lord and I to one another freely. And privately, may do all other ceremonies ; Woman " and page we 'U be to one another, And trouble you no farther.
Tony. Art thou a wise man ?
Val. I cannot tell thee, Tony ; ask my neighbours.
Tony. If thou be 'st so, go he with me to-night (The old fool will lie quieter than the young one. And give thee more sleep) ; thou wilt look to-morrow else Worse than the prodigal fool the ballad speaks of. That was squeez'd through a horn.
" Woman'\ Both the folios " Women."
SCENE lu.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 343
Val. I shall take thy counsel.
Mar. Why, theu, good night, good night, my best Evanthc, My worthy maid ! and, as that name shall vanish, A worthy wife, a long and happy ! — Follow, suTah.
Evan. That shall be my care. Goodness rest with your
grace
Mar. Be lusty, lord, and take youi' lady to you ; And that power that shall part ye be unhappy !
Val. Sweet rest unto you ! — to ye all, sweet ladies ! — Tony, good night.
Tony. Shall not the fool stay with thee ?
Mar. Come away, sirrah. [Exeunt Maria and Ladies.
Tony. How the fool is sought for !
Sweet malt is made of easy fire ; A hasty horse will quickly tire ; A sudden leaper sticks i^ the mire ; Phlebotomy, and the word " lie niglicr,'^ Take heed of, friend, I thee require. This from an almanack I stole ; And learn this lesson from a fool.
Good night, my bird.
Evan. Good night, wise Master Tony. [Exit Tony.
Will you to bed, my lord ? come, let me help you.
Val. To bed, Evanthe ! art thou sleepy ?
Evan. No; I shall be worse, if you look sad upon me. Pray you, let 's to bed.
Val. I am not well, my love.
Evan. I '11 make you well ; there 's no such physic for you As your warm mistress' arms.
Val. Art thou so cunning^?
Evan. I speak not by experience (pray you, mistake not) ; But, if you love me
Val. I do love so dearly. So much above the base bent of desire, I knoAV not how to answer thee.
Evan. To bed, then ;
'■ cunniiiff] i, c. skilful.
344 A WIFE FOR A MONTH, [act hi
There I shall better credit you. Fie^ my lord ! Will you put a maid to 't, to teach you what to do ? An innocent maid ? are you so cold a lover ? In truth, you make me blush : ^tis midnight too. And ^tis no stoln love, but authoris'd openly, No sin we covet. Pray, let me undress you ; You shall help me. Prithee, sweet Valerio, Be not so sad ; the king will be more merciful.
Val. May not I love thy mind ?
Evan. And I yours too ; ^Tis a most noble one, adornM with virtue ; But, if we love not one another really. And put our bodies and our minds together. And so make up the concord of affection. Our love will prove but a blind superstition. This is no school to argue in, my lord. Nor have we time to talk away allow'd us : Pray, let 's despatch. If any one should come And find us at this distance, what would they think ? Come, kiss me, and to bed.
Val. That I dare do. And kiss again.
Evan. Spare not ; they are your own, sir.
Val. But to enjoy thee is to be luxurious. Too sensual in my love, and too ambitious. — Oh, how I burn ! [Aside.'] — To pluck thee from the stalk Where now thou grow^st a sweet bud and a beauteous. And bear'st the prime and honoui' of the garden. Is but to violate thy spring, and spoil thee.
Evan. To let me blow, and fall alone, would anger you.
Val. Let 's sit together thus, and, as we sit, Feed on the sweets of one another^s souls. The happiness of love is contemplation. The blessedness of love is pure affection, Where no allay of actual dull desire. Of pleasure that partakes with wantonness. Of human fire that burns out as it kindles. And leaves the body but a poor repentance. Can ever mix : let \s fix on that, Evanthe ;
SCENE III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 345
That ^s everlasting, the otlier"' casual; Eternity breeds one, the other Fortune, Blind as herself, and full of all afflictions : Shall we love virtuously ?
Evan. I ever lovM so.
Val. And only think om' love ? the rarest pleasure (And that we most desii'e, let it be hirnian), If once enjoyM, grows stale, and cloys om* appetites : I would not lessen in my love for any thing. Nor find thee but the same in my short journey. For my love's safety '^■.
Evan. Now I see I am old, sir, Old and ill-favoured too, poor and despisM, And am not worth your noble fellowship. Your fellowship in love ; you would not else Thus cunningly seek to betray a maid, A maid that honoiu's you thus piously. Strive to abuse the pious love she brings you. Farewell, my lord ; since you have a better mistress, (For it must seem so, or you are no man,) A younger, happier, I shall give her room. So much I love you still.
Val. Stay, my Evanthe : Heaven bear me witness, thou art all I love, All I desire ! and now, have pity on me ! — I never lied before ; forgive me. Justice ! Youth and Affection, stop yom' ears unto me ! [Aside.
Evan. Why do you weep ? If I have spoke too harshly. And unbeseeming, my beloved lord. My care and duty, pardon me.
Val. Oh, hear me. Hear me, Evanthe ! — I am all on torture,
^'' the other] Both the folios " the tother " (see notes, vol ii. 1.5, vol. vii. 453), which I have not I'etained, because in the next line they have " the other".
* Nor find thee hut the same in my short journey^
For my love's safety] " Valerio would not suffer the least abatement of her
affection, if he might save wliat by it '. his love I liis life, to be sure, he designed
to say, and the true reading is, ' For my Ufe's safety.' " Sympson. — " Very good sense may be made out of tlic text : ' He would not lessen in his love for any thing, and therefore wishes to find her still tlie same, that liis love may not lessen.' In his ' short journey' his life's safety is (^uite out of the (juestiou." t\l. 1778.
346 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [actiii.
And this lie tears my conscience as I vent it ! — [Aside.
I am no man.
Evan. HoWj sir !
Val. No man for pleasure; No woman's man.
Evan. Goodness forbidj my lord ! Svu-e, you abuse yourself.
Val. 'Tis true, Evanthe ; I shame to say you will find it. [Weeps.
Evan. He weeps bitterly: 'Tis my hard fortune ; bless all young maids from it !—
[Aside. Is there no help, my lord, in art will comfort you ?
Val. I hope there is.
Evan. How long have you been destitute ?
Val. Since I was young.
Evan. 'Tis hard to die for nothing. — [Aside.
Now you shall know, 'tis not the pleasure, sir, (For I am compell'd to love you spiritually,) That women aim at, I affect you for ; 'Tis for your worth : and kiss me ; be at peace ; Because I ever lov'd you, I still honour you. And with all duty to my husband follow you. Will you to bed now? you are asham'd, it seems. Pygmalion pray'd, and his cold stone took life : You do not know with what zeal I shall ask, sir, And what rare miracle that may work upon you. Still blush ? prescribe your law.
Val. I prithee, pardon me : To bed, and I '11 sit by thee, and mourn with thee, Mourn both our fortunes, our unhappy ones : Do not despise me ; make me not more wretched ! I pray to Heaven, when I am gone, Evanthe, (As my poor date is but a span of time now,) To recompense thy noble patience, Thy love and \drtue, with a fruitful husband. Honest and honoiirable !
Evan. Come, you haA^e made me weep now. All fond desire die here ! and welcome chastity, Honoiu" and chastity ! Do what you please, sii\ [Exeunt.
sCENF, I.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 347
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — An apartment in the Monastery.
Enter, on one side, Rugio and Marco ; on the other, Sorano with a little glass phial.
Rug. Wliat ails this piece of mischief to look sad ? He seems to weep too.
Marco. Something is a-hatching. And of some bloody natui'e too. Lord Rugio, This crocodile mom'ns thus cunningly.
Sor. Hail, holy father ! And good day to the good Lord Rugio ! HoAv fares the sad prince, I beseech you, sir ?
Rug. ^Tis like you know ; you need not ask that question : You have your eyes and watches on his miseries As near as ours ; I would they were as tender !
Marco. Can you do him good? As the king and you appointed him. So he is still ; as you desir'd I think too. For every day he is worse : Heaven pardon all ! Put off your sorrow ; you may laiigh now, lord ; He cannot last long to disturb yom* master : You have done worthy ser\dce to his brother. And he most memorable love.
Sor. You do not know, sir. With what remorse I ask, nor with what weariness I groan and bow under this load of honour ; And how my soul sighs for the beastly seridces I have done his pleasures, these be witness with mc \ And from your piety believe me, father, I woidd as willingly unclothe myself Of title (that becomes me not, I know ; Good men and great names best agree together). Cast off the glorious favom's, and the trappings Of sound and honom*, wealth and promises, His >vauton plcasiucs have flung on my weakness.
348 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
And choose to serve my country's cause and Airtue's, Poorly and honestly^ and redeem my ruins^ As I would hope remission of my mischiefs.
Rug. Old and experienc'd men, my lord Sorano, Are not so quickly caught with gilt hypocrisy. You pull your claws in now, and fawn upon us, As hons do to entice poor foolish beasts ; And beasts we should be too, if we believed you : Go, exercise your art
Sor, For Heaven-sake, scorn me not, Nor add more hell to my afflicted soul Than I feel here ! as you are honourable, As you are charitable, look gently on me ! I will no more to court, be no more devil : I know I must be hated even of him That was my love now ; and the more he loves me For his foul ends, when they shall once appear to him, Muster before his conscience, and accuse him. The fouler and the more falls his displeasure : Princes are fading things, so are their favours.
Marco. He weeps again ^' ; His heart is touched, sure, with remorse.
Sor. See this. And give me fair attention : good my lord, And worthy father, see ; within this phial. The remedy and cure of all my honour, And of the sad prince, lies.
Rug. What new trick 's this ?
Sor. 'Tis true, I have done offices abundantly 111 and prodigious to the prince Alphonso ; And, whilst I was a knave, I sought his death too.
Rug. You are too late comicted to be good yet.
Sor. But, father, when I felt this part afflict me. This inward part, and caird me to an audit Of my misdeeds and mischiefs
Marco. Well; go on, sir.
Sor. Oh, then, then, then ! what was my glory then, father?
" He loeeps ac/am] Q,y. are these words a stage-dii-ection ? (Sorano had previously wept, when he said, " these [i. e. my tears] be witness with me ! " p. 347). The measui'e is complete without them.
scENiii.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 349
The favoiu' of the king, what did that case me ? What was it to be bow'd to by all creatures ? Woi'shipp'd, and coiu'tcd ? what did this avail me ? I was a wretch, a poor lost wretch !
Marco. Still better,
Sor. Till, in the midst of all my grief, I found Repentance ; and a learned man to give the means to it ; A Jew, an honest and a rare physician : Of him I had this jewel ; 'tis a jewel. And, at the price of all my wealth, I bought it. If the king knew it, I must lose my head ; And wiUiugly, most willingly, I would suffer. A child may take it, 'tis so sweet in working.
Marco. To whom would you apply it to >' ?
Sor. To the sick prince ; It AAall in half a day dissolve his melancholy.
Rug. I do believe ; and give him sleep for ever. What impudence is this, and what base malice, To make us instruments of thy abuses ! Are we set here to poison him ?
Sor. Mistake not ; Yet I must needs say, 'tis a noble care. And worthy virtuous servants. If you will see A flom-ishing estate again in Naples, And great Alphonso reign, that 's truly good. And like himself able to make all excellent. Give him this di-ink ; and tliis good health unto him ! [Drinks. I am not so desperate yet to kill myself. Never look on me as a guilty man, Nor on the water as a speedy poison : I am not mad, nor laid out all my treasure. My conscience and my credit, to abuse ye. How nimbly and how cheerfully it works now Upon my heart and head ! sure, I am a new man : There is no sadness that I feel within me. But, as it meets it, like a lazy vapour
y to] So the first folio (" too "). — Omitted in the second foho ; and by Sympson and the Editors of 1778. — Repetitions of this kind are frequent in our eax'ly writers : see notes, vol. vi. 389, 524.
350 A "WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
How it flies off! Here^ give it him with speed : You are more guilty than I ever was^ And worthier of the name of evil subjects, If but an hour you hold this from his health.
Rug. 'Tis some rare wtuous thing, sm^e; he is a good man; It must be so : come, let 's apply it presently ; And may it sweetly work !
Sor. Pray, let me hear on ^t ; And carry it close, my lords.
Marco. Yes, good Sorano.
[Eweunt Rugio and Marco with the phial.
Sor. Do, my good fools, my honest pious coxcombs, My wary fools too ! have I caught your wisdoms ? You never dream' d I knew an antidote. Nor how to take it to secure mine own life ; I am an ass ! Go, give him the fine cordial, And, when you have done, go dig his grave, good friar. Some two hours hence we shall have such a bawhng. And roaring up and down for aqua-vita, Such rubbing, and such ^nointing, and such cooling ! I have sent him that wiU make a bonfire in 's belly : If he recover it, there is no heat in hell, sure. [Ejcit.
SCENE II. — An apartment in the Palace. Enter Frederick and Podramo, Fred. Podramo ! Pod. Sir?
Fred. Call hither Lord Valerio ; And let none trouble us.
Pod. It shall be done, sir. [Exit.
Fred. I know he wants no additions to his tortures. He has enough for human blood to carry "^ ;
^ Re has enough for human Uood to carry'\ After this line, both the folios have, —
" Yet I must vex him further " ; and so the modern editors, though those of 1778 observed that it " seems to be an mterpolation ; and was perhaps occasioned by the players' omitting the two next lilies."
SCENE II.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 351
So many, that I wonder his hot 3"outh And high-bred spirit breaks not into hxry ; I must yet tortnre him a little further, And make myself sport with his miseries ; My anger is too poor else. Here he eomes.
Enter Valerio. Now, my young-married lord, how do you feel yourself? You have the happiness you ever aimM at, The joy and pleasure.
Val. Would you had the like, sir !
Fred. You tumble in delights with your sweet lady, And draw the minutes out in dear embraces ; You live a right lord's life.
Val. Would you had tried it. That you might know the virtue but to suffer ! Yoiu' anger, though it be unjust and insolent, Sits handsomer upon you than your scorn ; To do a wilful ill, and glory in it, Is to do it double, double to be damn'd too.
Fred. Hast thou not found a loving and free prince ? High in his favours too ? that has conferred Such hearts-ease, and such heaps of comfort on thee, AU thou couldst ask ?
Val. You are too grown a tyrant Upon so suffering and so still a subject : You have put upon me such a punishment. That, if your youth were honest, it would blush at ; But you are a shame to nature, as to \irtue. Pull not my rage upon you : 'tis so just. It will give way to no respect. My life. My innocent life, (I dare maintain it, sir,) Like a wanton prodigal you have flung away ; Had I a thousand more, I would allow 'em. And be as careless of 'em as your will is : But, to deny those rights the law has given me. The holy law, and make her life the penance. Is such a studied and unheard-of malice. No heart that is not hir'd from liell dare think of;
352 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
To do it then too, when my hopes were high,
High as my blood, all my desires upon me,
My free affections ready to embrace her.
And she mine own ! Do you smile at this ? is 't done well ?
Is there not Heaven above you that sees all ? [Ea;it.
Enter Cassandra.
Fred. Come hither. Time. How does your noble mistress ?
Cas. As a gentlewoman may do in her case that 's newly married, sir; Sickly sometimes, and fond, au^t like your majesty''.
Fred. She is breeding, then ?
Cas. She wants much of her colour. And has her qualms as ladies use to have, sir. And her disgusts.
Fred. And keeps her chamber ?
Cas. Yes, sir.
Fred. And eats good broths and jellies ?
Cas. I am sure she sighs, sir. And weeps, good lady !
Fred. Alas, good lady, for it ! She should have one could comfort her, Cassandra, Could turn those tears to joys, a lusty comforter.
Cas. A comfortable man does well at all hours. For he brings comfortable things.
Fred. Come hither ; And hold your fan between, you have eaten onions. — Her breath stinks like a fox, her teeth are contagious ; These old women are all elder-pipes [Aside] . — Do you mark me ? \_Crives a purse.
Cas. Yes, sir ; but does your grace think I am fit. That am both old and virtuous ?
Fred. Therefore the fitter, the older still the better ; I know thou art as holy as an old cope, Yet, upon necessary use
Cas. ^Tis true, sir.
a and fond, an't like your majesty'] Sympson's proposed correction (and compare p. 378. 1. 16).— Both the foHos " and fond on't, lilce your Majesty " ; and so the modern editors. Here "fond " means— foohsh.
I. •
SCENE 11.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 35.-?
Fred. Her feeling sense is fierce still : speak unto her, (You are familiar^ speak, I say, unto her. Speak to the purpose; tell her this, and this. [Whispers.
Cas. Alas, she is honest, sir, she is very honest ! And woidd you have my gravity
Fred. Ay, ay; Your gravity will become the cause the better. I '11 look thee out a knight shall make thee a lady too, A lusty knight, and one that shall be ruVd by thee ; And add to these, I '11 make 'em good ^. No mincing, Nor ducking out of nicety '', good lady. But do it home. We '11 all be Mends too, tell her. And such a joy
Cas. That 's it that stirs me up, sir ; I would not for the world attempt her chastity, But that they may live lovingly hereafter,
Fred. For that I urge it too.
Cas. A little e^dl May well be suffer'd for a general good, sir. I '11 take my leave of your majesty.
Fred. Go fortunately ; Be speedy too. [Exit Cassandra.
Here comes Valerie : If his affliction ^ have allay'd his spirit, My work has end.
Re-enter Valerio.
Come hither. Lord Valerio ; How do you now?
Val. Your majesty may guess. Not so well, nor so fortunate as you are. That can tie up men's honest wills and actions ^.
c And add to these, Til make "em yood'] "i. e. and, though you should add to these further conditions, I '11 fulfil them." Mason. <• nicety'] i. e. scnipulousncss, preciseness.
e affliction] The Editors of 1 778 silently printed « afflictions" ; and so Weher. f That can tie up men's honest loills-and actions] " In the first folio, some lines which occur before, (p. 351,) are repeated here ; from — ' You have the happiness,' &c. to the line, ' Sits handsomer upon you than your scorn.' " Weder. In consequence, probably, of the scene having been shortened in the representa- tion.
VOL. IX. A A
354 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
Fred. You clearly see now, brave Valerio, What ^tis to be the rival to a prince. To interpose against a raging lion : I know you have suffer' d, infinitely suffered, And with a kind of pity I behold it ; And, if you dare be worthy of my mercy, I can yet heal you (yield up your Evanthe), Take off my sentence also,
Val. I fall thus low, sir ; [Kneels.
My poor sad heart under your feet I lay, And all the service of my life.
Fred. Do this, then, For without this ^twill be impossible : Part with her for a while.
Val. You have parted us ; What should I do with that I cannot use, sir ?
Fred. ^Tis well consider'd : let me have the lady, And thou shalt see how nobly I '11 befriend thee. How all this difference
Val. Will she come, do you think, sir?
Fred. She must be wrought (I know she is too modest). And gently wrought, and cunningly.
Val. 'Tis fit, sir.
Fred. And secretly it must be done.
Val. As thought.
Fi'ed. I ^11 warrant you, her honour shall be fair still ; No soil nor stain shall appear on that, Valerio. You see a thousand that bear sober faces. And shew off as inimitable modesties ; You would be sworn too that they were pure matrons. And most chaste maids ; and yet, to augment their fortunes.
And get them noble friends
Val. They are content, sir. In private to bestow their beauties on ^em.
Fred. They are so, and they are wise ; they know no want for't. For no eye sees they want their honesties. Val. If it might be carried thus —
Fred. It shall be, sir.
SCENE u] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 355
Val. I '11 sec yoii dead first ! [Aside] . — With this caution, Why, sure, I think it might be done.
Fred. Yes, easily.
Val. For what time would j'-our grace desii'c her body ?
Fred. A month or two. It shall be carried still As if she kept ^ with you, and were a stranger, Rather a hater, of the grace I offer ; And then I will rctm^n her, with such honour —
Val. 'Tis very like [Aside] . — I dote much on your honour.
Fred. And load her with such favour too, Valerio —
Val. She never shall claw off [Aside] . — I humbly thank you.
Fred. I ^11 make ye both the happiest, and the richest, And the mightiest too
Val. But who shall work her, sir ? For, on my conscience, she is very honest, And will be hard to cut as a rough diamond.
Fred. T^liy, you must work her; any thing from your tongue, Set off with golden and persuasive language, Urging your dangers too
Val. But all this time Have you the conscience, sir, to leave me nothing, Nothing to play withal?
Fred. There be a thousand ; Take where thou wilt.
Val. May I make bold with j^oiu' queen ? She is useless to your grace, as it appears, sir. And but a loyal wife, that may be lost too : I have a mind to her, and then 'tis equal.
Fred. How, sir !
Val. 'Tis so, sir. Thou most glorious impudence, Have I not wrongs enow to suffer under. But thou must pick me out to make a monster? A hated wonder to the world ? Do you start At my entrenching on yoiu" private liberty. And would you force a highway through mine honom*,
B kqyt] " i. e. dwelt." Webeu. A A 2
356 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act tv.
And make me pave it too ? But that thy queen
Is of that excellence in honesty,
And guarded with divinity about her,
No loose thought can come near, nor flame unhallow'd,
I would so right myself!
Fred. Why, take her to you ; I am not vex'd at this ; thou shalt enjoy her : I ^11 be thy friend, if that may win thy courtesy.
Val. I will not be your bawd, though, for your royalty. Was I brought up and nom'isVd in the court. With thy most royal brother and thyself. Upon thy father's charge, thy happy father's, And suck'd the sweetness of all human arts, Learn'd arms and honour, to become a rascal? Was this the expectation of my youth. My growth of honour ? Do you speak this truly. Or do you try me, sir ? for I believe not. At least I would not, and methinks 'tis impossible There should be such a devil in a king's shape. Such a mahgnant fiend.
Fred. I thank you, sir ! To-morrow is your last day, and look to it ! Get from my sight, away !
Val. You are Oh,
My heart 's too high and full to think upon you !
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. — Another apartment in the same.
Enter Evanthe and Cassandra.
Evan. You think it fit, then, mortified Cassandra, That I should be a whore ?
Cas. Why a whore, madam ? If every woman that upon necessity Did a good turn (for there 's the main point, mark it) Were term'd a whore, who would be honest, madam ? Your lord's life, and your own, are now in hazard ;
SCENE HI.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 357
Two precious lives may be redeem\l with nothing, Little or nothing ; say, an hoiu*'s or day's sport, Or such a toy ; the end to it is [not] '' wantonness, That we call lust, that maidens lose their fame for, But a compeird necessity of honom*, Fair as the day, and clear as innocence ; Upon my life and conscience, a direct way
Evan. To be a rascal.
Cas. ^Tis a kind of rape too ; That keeps you clear ; for, where your will 's compell'd. Though you peld up your body, you are safe still.
Evan. Thou art grown a learned bawd ; I ever look'd Thy great sufficiency would break out.
Cas. You may. You that are young and fail', scorn us old creatures ; But you must know my years ere you be wise, lady, And my experience too. Say the king lov'd you ? Say it were nothing else ?
Evan. Ay, marry, wench, Now thou com'st to me.
Cas. Do you think princes' favours are such slight things. To fling away when you please ? There be young ladies. Both fair and honourable, that would leap to reach 'em. And leap aloft too.
Evan. Such are light enough j I am no vaulter, wench. But canst thou tell me. Though he be a king, wiiether he be sound or no ? I would not give my youth up to infection.
Cas. As sound as honom* ought to be, I think, lady. Go to ! be wise ; I do not bid you try him ; But, if he love you well, and you neglect him, Yom* lord's life hanging on the hazard of it — —
If you be so wilful proud
Evan. Thou speak' st to the point still ; But when I have lien' with him, what am I then, gentlewoman ?
Cas. Wliat are you ! why, the same you are now, a Avoman,
*" [nof] Inserted by S^inpson. i lien'] So the fii'st folio (" lycn "). — Hei'c the second folio " lain " (and so the modern editors) ; but afterwards (p. 368 1. 25) it has " lycn."
358 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
A virtuous woman^ and a noble woman ;
Touching at what is noble, you become so.
Had Lucrece e^er been thought of, but for Tarquin ?
She was before a simple unknown woman ;
When she was ravisVd, she was a reverent saint :
And do you think she yielded not a little.
And had a kind of will to have been re-ravish'd ?
Beheve it, yes. There are a thousand stories
Of wondrous loyal women, that have slipp'd.
But it has been on the ice of tender honour.
That kept 'em cool still to the world. I think you are blest.
That have such an occasion in joixr hands to beget
A chronicle, a faithful one.
Evan. It must needs be much honour.
Cas. As you may make it, infinite, and safe too ; And, when 'tis done, your lord and you may live So quietly, and peaceably together. And be what you please !
Evan. But, suppose this, wench. The king should so delight me with his company, I should forget my lord, and no more look on him ?
Cas. That 's the main hazard ; for I tell you truly, I have heard report speak he 's an infinite pleasure. Almost above belief: there be some ladies, And modest to the world too, wondrous modest. That have had the blessedness to try his body. That I have heard proclaim him a new Hercules,
Evan, So strongly able ?
Cas. There will be the danger; You being but a young and tender lady. Although your mind be good, yet your weak body. At first encounter too, to meet with one Of his unconquer'd strength
Evan. Peace, thou rude bawd. Thou studied old corruptness ! tie thy tongue up. Your hir'd base tongue ! Is this your timely counsel ? Dost thou seek to make me dote on wickedness. Because 'tis ten times worse than thou deliver' st it ? To be a whore, because he has sufficiency
SCENE HI.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 359
To make a hundred ? Oh, thou impudence ! Have I reliev'd thy age to mine own ruin, And worn thee in my bosom, to betray me ? Can years and impotence win nothing on thee That 's good and honest, but thou must go on still ? And, where thy blood wants heat to sin thyself, Force thy decrepit will to make me cricked ?
Cas. I did but tell you
Evan. "SMiat the damned' st woman, The cimning'st and the skilfuFst bawd, comes short of: If thou liadst liv'd ten ages to be damn'd in. And exercis'd this art the devil taught thee. Thou coiddst not have expressed it more exactly.
Cas. I did not bid you sin.
Evan. Thou wooed' st me to it ; Thou, that art fit for prayer and the grave. Thy body earth already and corruption. Thou taught'st the way. Go, follow your fine function : There are houses of delight, that want good matrons. Such grave instructors ; get thee thither, monster. And read variety of sins to wantons ; And, when they roar with pains, learn to make plasters.
Cas. This we have for our good wills.
Evan. If e'er I see thee more. Or any thing that 's like thee, to affright me. By this fan* Hght, I '11 spoil thy bawdry ! I '11 leave thee neither eyes nor nose to grace thee ! AVhen thou want'st bread, and common pity towards thee. And art a-stamng in a ditch, think of me ; Then die, and let the wandering bawds lament thee : Be gone ; I charge thee, leave me !
Enter Frederick.
Cas. You'll repent this. [Exit.
Fred. She 's angry, and t'other crying too ; my suit 's cold : I '11 make your heart ache, stubborn wench, for this ! —
[Aside. Tm-n not so angry from me ; I Anil speak to you.
I
360 A WIFE FOR A MONTH, [act iv.
Are you grown proud with your delight, good lady ? So pamper'd with your sport, you scorn to know me ?
Evan. I scorn you not ; I would you scornM not me, sir. And forcM me to be weary of my duty ! I know your grace ; would I had never seen you !
Fred. Because I love you, because I dote upon you. Because I am a man that seek to please you ?
Evan. I have man enough already to content me. As much, as noble, and as worthy of me. As all the world can yield.
Fred. That ^s but your modesty : ,
You have no man — nay, never look upon me, '
I know it, lady — no man to content you ; No man that can, or, at the least, that dare. Which is a poorer man, and nearer nothing.
Evan. Be nobler, sir, inform^.
Fred. I '11 tell thee, wench. The poor condition of this poorer fellow. And make thee blush for shame at thine own error : He never tender'd yet a husband's duty To thy warm longing bed.
Evan. How should he know that ? [Aside.
Fred. I am sure he did not, for I charg'd him no. Upon his life I charg'd him, but to try him. Could any brave or noble spirit stop here ? Was life to be preferr'd before affection ? Lawful and long'd-for too ? ■
Evan. Did you command him ?
Fred. I did, in policy, to try his spirit.
Evan. And could he be so dead-cold to observe it ? Brought I no beauty nor no love along with me ?
Fred. Why, that is it that makes me scorn to name him. I should have lov'd him, if he had ventur'd for 't ; Nay, doted on his bravery.
Evan. Only charg'd. And with that spell sit down ! Dare men fight bravely For poor slight 'things, for drink, or ostentation. And there endanger both their lives and fortunes, And for their lawful loves fly ofi" with fear ?
SCENE III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 361
Fred. 'Tistrue; And ^nth a cunning base fear too to abuse thee, Made thee beheve^ poor innocent Evanthe, Wretched young girl, it was his impotcncy : Was it not so ? deny it.
Evan. Oh, my anger ! At my years, to be cozen' d ^vith a young man !
Fi'ed. A strong man too : certain, he lov'd you dearly !
Evan. To have my shame and love mingled together. And both flimg on me like a weight to sink me ! I would have died a thousand times !
F7'ed. So would any. Any that had the spiint of a man : I would have been kill'd in your arms.
Evan. I would he had been. And bm'ied in mine arms ! that had been noble : And what a monument would I have made him ! Upon this breast he shoidd have slept in peace, Honour and everlasting Love his mourners ; And I still Aveeping, till old Time had tm'n'd me, And pitying powers above, into pure crystal.
Fred. Hadst thou lov^d me, and had my way been stuck With deaths, as thick as frosty nights with stars, I would have ventured.
Evan. Sure, there is some trick in 't : Valerio ne'er was coward. ^Aside.
Fred. Worse than this too. Tamer, and seasoning of a baser nature. He set your woman on you to betray you, Yom* bawdy woman, or your sin-solicitor (I pray, but think what this man may deserve now) ; I know he did, and did it to please me too.
Evan. Good sii', afflict me not too fast : I feel I am a woman, and a wrong'd one too. And sensible I am of my abuses. Sir, you have lov'd me
Fred. And I love thee still. Pity thy wrongs, and dote upon thy person.
Evan. To set mv woman on me ! 'twas too base, sii\
362 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
Fred. Abominable vild''.
Evan. But I shall fit him.
Fred. All reason and all law allows it to you ; And you are a fool, a tame fool, if you spare him.
Evan. You may speak now, and happily prevail too ; And I beseech your grace be angry with me.
Fred. I am at heart. — She staggers in her faith, And will fall off, I hope ; I '11 ply her still. — [Aside.
Thou abused innocence, I suffer with thee ! If I should give him life, he would still betray thee ; That fool that fears to die for such a beauty. Would for the same fear sell thee unto misery : I do not say' he would have been bawd himself too.
Evan. Followed thus far ? nay, then I smell the malice ; It tastes too hot of practisM wickedness : There can be no such man, I am sure no gentleman. Shall my anger make me whore, and not my pleasure ? My sudden unconsiderate rage abuse me ? Come home again, my frighted faith, my virtue. Home to my heart again ! lAside.l — He be a bawd too ?
Fred. 1 will not say he offerM, fair Evanthe.
Evan. Nor do not dare : ^twill be an impudence, And not an honour, for a prince to lie. Fie, sir, a person of your rank to trifle ! I know you do lie.
Fred. How !
Evan. Lie shamefully; And I could wish myself a man but one day. To tell you openly, you lie too basely.
Fred. Take heed, wild fool !
Evan. Take thou heed, thou tame devil !
•> vild] i. e. vile : see note, vol. i. 331. — The modei-n editors print " vile." ' I do not say, &ic.] "From Evantlie's answer, it seems probable the poet wrote, '/ DARE say,'' &c." Ed. 1778, — Mason approving of the alteration.— " Surely, had the editors read a little fm'ther, they would have sti'uck out tliis useless note. Frederick says again,
' I will TWt say he offer'd, fair Evanthe.' He evidently goes gradually and artfully to work, afraid of Evantlie's suspicions being roused by an accusation too downright, and seems insidiously to retract his first assertions, to gain her confidence more strongly." Weber.
scKNEiv.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 3G3
Thoxi all Pandora's box, in a king's figure ! Thou hast almost wlior'd my weak belief already, And, like an engineer, blown up mine honoiu' : But I shall countermine, and catch yoiu' mischief; Tliis little fort you seek I shall "man nobly, And strongly too, with chaste obedience To my dear lord, with ^irtuous thoughts that scorn you. Victorious Thamp'is' ne'er won more honoiu' In cutting off the royal head of Cyrus Than I shall do in conqviering thee. Farewell ; And, if thou canst be wise, learn to be good too ; 'Twill give thee nobler lights than both thine eyes do. My poor lord and myself are bound to suffer ; And, when I see him faint under your sentence, I '11 tell you more ; it may be, then I '11 yield too. Fred. Fool, unexampled shall^ my anger follow thee !
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE IV. — An apartment in the Monastery.
Enter RuGio and Marco.
Rug. Curse on oiu- sights^! our fond credulities ! A thousand curses on the slave that cheated us. The damned slave !
Marco. We have e'en sham'd our service,
i Tliamyris] So the first folio (« r«/Hem").— The second folio "ThomjTis", —The name of this Scythian queen is variously wTitten by ancient authors.
k Fool, unexampled shall, &c.] The modern editors point, " Fool unexampled, shall," &c. : but the epithet " tinexampled " belongs to " amjer " (wliicli Heath did not perceive, when, in his MS. Notes, he proposed altering "shall " to " still "). ' Curse on our sights'i Both the folios " Curst ", &c. — " Sympson says, that every body sees that this must be wi-ong [and proposes to read " Cm-se on our light, our fond credulities ! " which was adopted by the Editors of 1778] ; but I see clearly that it is right. They cm'se their sights, because it was their eyes deceived them. They gave no credit to Sorano until they saw him drink the poison ; and, accordingly, Rugio afterwards says,
' That we should be such blockheads,
As to be taken with his drinking first,
And never think what antidotes are made for !' " Mason.
364 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
Brought our best care ^ and loyalties to nothing : ^Tis the most fearful j)oison^ the most potent-
Heaven give him patience ! Oh, it works most strongly, And tears him Lord !
Rug. That we should be so stupid To trust the arrant' st villain that e'er flatter'd. The bloodiest too ! to believe a few soft words from him. And give way to his prepared tears !
Alph. [within] Oh, oh, oh !
Rug. Hark, friar Marco, Hark, the poor prince ! That we should be such blockheads. As to be taken with his drinking first. And never think what antidotes are made for ! Two wooden sculls we have, and we deserve to be hang'd for't : For certainly it will be laid to our charge ; As certain, too, it will despatch him speedily. Which way to turn, or what to
Marco. Let us pray : Heaven's hand is strong.
Rug. The poison's strong, you would say. Would any thing — He comes ; let 's give him comfort.
Alphonso is brought in, on a couch, hy two Friars. Alph. Give me more air, air, more air ! Blow, blow"' ! Open, thou eastern gate, and blow upon me ! Distil thy cold dews, oh, thou icy moon ! And, rivers, run through my afflicted spirit ! I am all fire, fire, fire ! the raging Dog-star Reigns in my blood ! Oh, which way shall I turn me ? j^tna, and all his flames, burn in my head ! Fling me into the ocean, or I perish ! Dig, dig, dig, till" the springs fly up. The cold, cold springs, that I may leap into 'em. And bathe my scorch'd limbs in their purling pleasures ! Or shoot me up into the higher region,
' care'] Q,y. "cares " ? compare p. 373 1. 11. ™ Bloiv, blow'] Sympson silently prmted " Blotv, blow, blow." n till] Sympson silently printed « mitil " (but, to make the line perfectly me- trical, he ought to have added another " dig").
SCENE IV.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 365
Where treasures of delicious snow are nourisli'd. And banquets of sweet hail !
Rug. Hold him fast, friar : Oh, how he burns !
Alph. What, will ye sacrifice me ? Upon the altar lay my willing body. And pile your wood up, fling your holy incense ; And, as I turn me, you shall see all flame. Consuming flame. Stand off me, or you are ashes !
Rug. and Marco. ]Most miserable wretches !
Alph. Bring hither Charity, And let me hug her, friar : they say she ^s cold. Infinite cold ; devotion cannot warm her. Draw me a river of false lovers' tears
Clean through my breast ; they are dull, cold, and forgetful. And will give ease. Let "vdrgins sigh upon me. Forsaken souls; their" sighs are precious; Let them all sigh. Oh, hell, hell, hell ! oh, horror !
Marco. To bed, good sir.
Alph. My bed will bm'n about me : Like Phaeton, in all-consuming flashes I am enclosM ! Let me fly, let me fly, give room ! Betwixt the cold bear and the raging lionP Lies my safe way. Oh, for a cake of ice now. To clap unto my heart to comfort me ! Decrepit Winter, hang upon my shoulders,
« their'] Both the folios " the ".
p Betwixt the cold bear and the raging lion, &c.] Seward, in Iiis Preface, citing this passage, gives, —
" 'Twixt the cold bears, far from the raging lion," &c. which he defends at great length in a note : and his alteration was adopted by the Editors of 1778 ! ! " The old reading, notwithstandmg Sewai'd's learned argument, I beheve to be the true one. The allusion is to the story of Phaeton, and particulax'ly to this line —
In medio tutissimus ibis. The word ' safe ' proves this allusion." Mason. " This Mr. Seward is a block- head of the provoking species. In his itch for con-ection, he forgot the words — 'lies my safe way !' The Bear is the extreme pole, and thither he would travel over the space contained between it and ' the raging lion '." Coleridge's Remains, ii. 314.
366 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
And let me wear tliy frozen icicles
Like jewels round about my head, to cool me !
My eyes burn out, and sink into their sockets.
And my infected brain like brimstone boils !
I live in hell, and several Furies vex me !
Oh, carry me where no sun ever shew'd yet
A face of comfort, where the earth is crystal
Never to be dissolved ! where nought inhabits
But night and cold, and nipping frosts, and winds
That cut the stubborn rocks and make them shiver !
Set me there, friends !
Rug. Hold fast ; he must to bed, friar. What scalding sweats he has !
Marco. He ^11 scald in hell for 't. That was the cause.
Aljjh. Drink, drink, a world of drink ! Fill all the cups, and all the antique vessels. And borrow pots; let me have drink enough ! Bring all the worthy drunkards of the time. The experienc'd drunkards, let me have them all. And let them drink their worst, I ^U make them idiots ! I '11 lie upon my back, and swallow vessels. Have rivers made of cooling wine run through me. Not stay for this man's health, or this great prince's. But take an ocean, and begin to all ! Oh, oh !
Marco. He cools a little ; now away with him. And to his warm bed presently.
Alph. No drink? No wind ? no cooling air ?
Rug. You shall have any thing. — His hot fit lessens ; Heaven, put in a hand now. And save his life ! — There 's drink, sir, in your chamber, And all cool things.
Alph. Away, away ; let 's fly to 'em !
[Exeunt, carrying Alphonso.
SCENE v.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 3G7
SCENE V. — An apartment in the Palace.
Enter Valerio a7id Evanthe.
Evan. To say you were impotent ! 1 am asliam'd on 't : To make yourself no man ! to a fresh maid too, A longing maid ! upon her wedding-night also. To giA'e her such a dor '\ !
Val. I prithee, pardon me.
Evan. Had you been di'unk, 't had been excusable ; Or, like a gentleman, under the surgeon's hands. And so not able, there had been some colour ; But wretchedly to take a weakness to you, A feai'fol weakness, to abuse your body. And let a he work Hke a spell upon you, A He to save your life
Val. Will you give me leave, sweet ?
Evan. You have taken too much leave, and too base leave too. To wrong your love. Hast thou a noble spirit ? And canst thou look up to the people's loves. That call thee worthy, and not blush, Valerio ? Canst thou behold me that thou hast betray'd thus. And no shame touch thee ?
Val. Shame attend the sinful ! I know my innocence.
Evan. Ne'er think to face it; that's a double weakness. And shews thee falser still. The king himself. Though he be wicked, and oui' enemy. But juster than thou', in pity of my injuries, Told me the truth.
Val. What did he tell, Evanthe ?
Evan. That, but to gain thy life a fortnight longer. Thy lov'd poor life, thou gav'st up all my duties.
1 rfoj'] See note, vol. vii. 48.
f juster than thou'] The first folio ''juster then thiiie ". — The second folio "jmter than thou art " ; and so the modem editors.
I
368 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
Val. I swear 'tis false ! my life and death are equal ; I have weigh'd 'em both, and find 'em but one fortune. But kings are men, and live as men, and die too, 1
Have the affections men have, and their falsehoods; Indeed, they have more power to make 'em good. The king 's to blame : it was to save thy life, wench. Thy innocent life, that I forbore thy bed, For, if I had touch'd thee, thou hadst died ; he swore it.
Evan. And was not I as worthy to die nobly. To make a story for the time that follows. As he that married me ? What weakness, sir. Or disability, do you see in me. Either in mind or body, to defraud me Of such an opportunity ? Do you think 1 married you Only for pleasure, or content in lust ? To lull you in mine arms, and kiss you hourly ? Was this my end ? I might have been a queen, sir. If that had caught me, and have known all delicates : There's few that would have shunn'd so fair an offer. Oh, thou unfaithful fearful man, thou hast kill'd me ! In saving me this way, thou hast destroy'd me, Robb'd me of that thy love can never give more ! To be unable, to save me ! Oh, misery ! Had I been my Valerie, thou Evanthe, I would have lien with thee under a gallows, Though the hangman had been my Hymen, and the Furies, With iron whips and forks, ready to torture me : I would have hugg'd thee too, though hell had gap'd at me. Save my life ! that expected to die bravely, That would have woo'd it too ! Would I had married An eunuch, that had truly no ability, Than such a fearful liar ! Thou hast done me A scurvy courtesy, that has undone me.
Val. I '11 do no more ; since you are so nobly fashion' d. Made up so strongly, I '11 take my share with you ; Nay, dear, I '11 learn of you.
Evan. He weeps too, tenderly ; My anger 's gone [Aside] . — Good my lord, pardon me ; And, if I have offended, be more angry :
SCENE v.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 309
It was a woman's flash, a sudden valour, That could not lie conceal' d.
Val. I honour you ; By all the rites of holy marriage, And pleasures of chaste love, I wonder at you ! You appear the vision of a heaven unto me, Stuck all Avith stars of honour shining clearly, And all the motions of your mind celestial : Man is a lump of earth ; the best man spiritless, To such a woman ; all our lives and actions But counterfeits in arras ', to this wtue. Chide me again ; you have so brave an anger, And flows so nobly from you, thus deliver' d. That I could suffer like a child to heai' j'ou. Nay, make myself guilty of some faults to honom* you.
Evan. I'll chide no more; you have robb'd me of my courage. And with a cunning patience check'd my impudence. Once more, forgiveness ! [She kneels.
Val. Will this serve, Evanthe ? [Raises and kisses her.
And this, my love ? Heaven's mercy be upon us ! But did he tell no more ?
Evan. Only this trifle ; You set my woman on me, to betray me : 'Tis true, she did her best ; a bad old woman ! It stii'r'd me, sir.
Val. I cannot blame thee, jewel.
Evan. And, methought, when yoiu* name was sounded that way
Val. He that will spare no fame will spare no name, sweet. Though, as I am a man, I am full of weakness, And may slip happily into some ignorance. Yet at my years to be a bawd, and cozen Mine own hopes with my doctrine
Evan. 1 believe not. Nor never shall. Our time is out to-morrow.
Val. Let 's be to-night, then, full of fruitfulness ;
• coimterftits in aiTasI i. e. pictures in tapestry-. VOL. IX. B B
370 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act iv.
Now we are both of one miud, let 's be happy :
I am no more a wanting man_, Evanthe ;
Thy warm embraces shall dissolve that impotence,
And my cold lie shall vanish with thy kisses.
You hours of night, be long as when Alcmena
Lay by the lusty side of Jupiter ;
Keep back the day, and hide his golden beams
Where the chaste watchful Morning may not find 'em !
Old doting Tithon, hold Aurora fast,
And, though she blush the day -break from her cheeks,
Conceal her still ! Thou heavy Wain, stand firm.
And stop the quicker revolutions !
Or, if the day must come to spoil our happiness,
Thou envious sun, peep not upon our pleasure ;
Thou, that all lovers cm-se, be far off from us !
Evan. Then let's to bed; and this night, in all joys And chaste delights
Enter Castruccio, with a Guard.
Cast. Stay : I must part ye both ; It is the king's command, who bids me tell you, To-morrow is your last hour.
Val. I obey, sir : In heaven we shall meet, captain, where King Frederick Dare not appear to part us.
Cast. Mistake me not ; Though I am rough in doing of my office. You shall find, sir, you have a friend to honour you.
Val. I thank you, sir.
Evan. Pray, captain, tell the king, They that are sad on earth in heaven shall sing. [Exeunt.
SCENE I.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. :571
ACT V. SCENE I. — An apartment in the Monastery.
Enter Marco and Rdgio.
Ruff. Have you writ to the captain of the castle ?
Marco. Yes, and charg'd him, Upon his soul^s health, that he be not cruel ; Told him Valerie's worth among the people, And how it must be punished in posterity. Though he scape now.
Riiff. But will not he, friar Mai'co, Betray this to the king ?
Marco. Though he be stubborn, And of a rugged nature, yet he is honest. And honours much Valerie.
Riiff. How does Alphonso? For now, methinks, my heart is light again. And pale fear fled.
Marco. He is as well as I am ; The rogue, against his will, has savM his life : A desperate poison has re-cur'd the prince,
Ruff. To me 'tis most miraculous.
Marco. To me too, Till I consider why it should do so ; And now I have found it a most excellent physic : It wrought upon the dull, cold, misty parts That clogg'd his soul, (which was another poison, A desperate too,) and found such matter there. And such abundance also to resist it. And wear away the dangerous heat it brought with it. The pure blood and the spirits scap'd untainted.
Ruff. 'Twas Heaven^s high hand, none of Sorano's pity
Marco. Most certain 'twas ; had the malicious villain Given him a cooling poison, he had paid him.
Ruff. The captain of the castle !
B B 2
372 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
Enter Castruccio.
Ma7Xo. Oh, you are Avelcome. How does your prisoner ?
Cast. He must go for dead ; But, Avhen I do a deed of so much \illany, I ^11 have my skin pulFd o'er mine ears, my lord : Though I am the king's, I am none of his abuses. How does your royal charge ? that I might see once !
Marco. I pray, see now ; you are a trusty gentleman.
Enter Alphonso and Friars.
Alph. Good fathers, I thank Heaven, I feel no sickness
Cast, He speaks again !
Alph. Nothing that iDars the free use of my spirit : Methinks the air is sweet to me, and company A thing I covet now. — Castruccio !
Cast. Sir?— He speaks and knows ! For Heaven-sake, break my pate,
lord. That I may be sure I sleep not !
Alph. Thou wert honest. Ever among the rank of good men counted. I have been absent long out of the world ; A dream I have liv'd : how does it look, Castruccio ? What wonders are abroad ?
Cast. I fling off duty To your dead brother (for he is dead in goodness). And to the living hope of brave Alphonso, The noble heir of nature and of honour, I fasten my allegiance.
Marco. Softly, captain; We dare not trust the air with this blest secret. — Good sir, be close again : Heaven has restor'd you. And by miraculous means, to your fair health, And made the instrument your enemies^ malice. Which does prognosticate your noble fortune ; Let not our careless joy lose you again, sir. Help to dehver you to a further danger : I pray you, pass in, and rest a while forgotten ;
SCENE ii.j A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 373
For, if youi- brother come to know you are well again,
And ready to inherit, as your right.
Before we have strength enough to assure your life.
What will become of 3'ou ? and what shall we
Deserve, in all opinions that are honest.
For our loss of judgment, care, and loyalty?
Rug. Dear sii', pass in. Heaven has begun the work, And blest us all ; let our endeavours folloAv, To preserve this blessing to our timely uses % And bring it to the noble end we aim at : Let our cares work now, and our eyes pick out An hour to shew you safely to your subjects, A secure hour.
Alph. I am counsell'd : ye are faithful.
Cast. Which hour shall not be long, as we shall handle it. Once more, the tender of my duty.
AJph. Thank you.
Cast. Keep you the monastery.
Rug. Strong enough, I ^11 warrant you.
[Exeunt, on one side, Alph., Marco, Rug., and Friars; on the other, Castruccio.
SCENE II.— 77^6 court of the Palace. Enter Tony and Podramo. Pod. Who are all these that crowd about the court, fool ? Those strange new faces ?
Tony. They are suitors, coxcomb. Dainty fine suitors to the widow-lady. Thou hadst best make one of ^em ; thou wilt be hang'd as
handsomely At the montVs end, and with as much joy follow^ (An't were to-morrow), as many mourning bawds for thee, And holy nuns, whose vestal fire ne^er vanishes. In sackcloth smocks, as if thou wert heir apparent To all the impious suburbs and the sink-holes. Pod. Out, you base rogue !
• lines'] Weber chose to piint " issues ".
374 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
Tomj. Why dost abuse thyself ? Thou art to blame ; I take thee for a gentleman. I
But why does not thy lord and master marry her?
Pod. Why, she is his sister,
Tony. ^Tis the better, fool ; He may make bold with his own flesh and blood, For, o^ my conscience, there ^s none else will trust him : j
Then he may pleasure the king at a dead pinch too, '^
Without a Mephistophilus', such as thou art. And engross the royal disease like a true subject. |
Pod. Thou wilt be whipp'd. \
Tony. I am sure thou wilt be liangM ; I have lost a ducat else, which I would be loath To venture without certainty. They appear.
[Lawyer, Physician, Captain, and Cutpurse pass over the stage.
Pod. Why, these are rascals.
Tony, They were meant to be so : Does thy master deserve better kindred ?
Pod. There 's an old lawyer. Trimmed up like a galley -foist"; what would he do with her?
Tony. As usurers do with their gold ; he Avould look on her. And read her over once a-day, like a hard report. Feed his dull eye, and keep his fingers itching : For any thing else, she may appeal to a parliament ; Sub-pcenas and posteas^' have spoil'd his codpiece. Tliere ^s a physician too, older than he, A" Galen yallinaceus, but he has lost his spurs; He would be nibbling too.
Pod. I marked the man. If he be a man.
' Mephistophilus'] " A familiar spirit attending upon Doctor Faustus." Sympson. Marlowe's Faustus had rendered this name familiar to all.
" a galley-foist'] "i. e. a vessel [properly a long barge with oars] dressed out and decorated. The city-barge, which was used upon the Lord-Mayor's day, when he was sworn into his office at Westminster, used to be called the (lalley- folst." Reed. Perhaps I need hardly add that here the allusion is not to the Lord Mayor's barge, which is always spoken of as "the galley -foist " : see vol. ii 221.
*■ ^josicfts] Both the folios " Post Kaes ".
" ^] Mason's correction. — Both the folios " And ".
SCENE ui.j A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 375
Tony. H'as much ado to be so ; Cerecloths and syrups glew him close together, He would fall a-pieces else : mending of slie-patieuts, And then trying whether they be right or no In his own person (there ^s the honest care on't). Has mollified the man. If he do marry her, And come but to warm him well at Cupid's bonfii'C, He will bulge so subtilly and suddenly, You may snatch him up by parcels, like a sea- wreck. Will your worship go, and look upon the rest, sir, And heai" what they can say for themselves ?
Pod. I '11 follow thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— The Hall in the Palace.
Enter Camillo, Menallo, Cleanthes, and Castruccio.
Cam. You tell us wonders.
Cast. But I tell you truths ; They are both well.
Men. Why are not we in arms, then ? And all the island given to know "
Cast. Discreetly And privately it must be done ; 'twill miss else. And prove our ruins. Most of the noble citizens Know it by me, and stay the hour to attend it. Prepare your hearts and friends, let theirs be right too. And keep about the king, to avoid suspicion. When you shall hear the castle-bell, take courage, And stand like men. Away ! the king is coming,
[Exeunt all except Castruccio.
Enter Frederick and Sorano. Fred. Now, captain, what have you done with your
prisoner ? Ca^t. He is dead, sir, and his body flung i' the sea, To feed the fishes ; 'twas your will, I take it ;
" A nd all the island given to know'] " As the scene is througliout at A^aj^lts, this expression, if not a corruption, is a flagrant oversight." SViMi'SON.
-"^76- A WIFE FOR A MONTH [act v.
I did it from a strong commission, And stood not to capitulate.
Fred. 'Tis well done, And I shall love you for your faith. "What anger Or sorrow did he utter at his end ?
Cast. Faith, little, su", that I gave any ear to : He would have spoke, but I had no commission To argue with him, so I flung him ofl". His lady would have seen ; but I lockM her up, For fear her woman^s tears should hinder us.
Fred. ^Twas trusty still. — I wonder, my Sorano, We hear not from the monastery : I believe They gave it not, or else it wrought not fully.
Cast. Did you name the monastery ?
Fred. Yes, I did, captain.
Cast. I saw the friar this morning, and Lord Rugio, Bitterly weeping, and wringing of their hands ; And all the holy men hung down their heads.
Sor. 'Tis done, I ^11 warrant you.
Cast. I ask'd the reason.
Fred. What answer hadst thou ?
Cast. This in few words, sir, — Your brother 's dead ; this morning he deceas'd. I was your servant, and I wept not, sir ; I knew 'twas for your good.
Fred. It shall be for thine too. Captain ; indeed it shall. — Oh, my Sorano, Now we shall live !
Sor. Ay, now there's none to trouble you.
Fred. Captain, bring out the woman ; and give way To any suitor that shall come to marry her. Of what degree soever.
Cast. It shall be done, sir. \Exit Castruccio.
Fred. Oh, let me have a lusty banquet after it ! I will be high and merry.
Sor. There be some lords That I could counsel you to fling from court, sir ; They pry into our actions. They are such The foolish people call their country's honours,
SCENE III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 377
Honest brave things, and stj'^le them with snch titles,
As if they were the patterns of the kingdom ;
Which makes them proud, and prone to look into us,
And talk at random of our actions.
They should be yours, lovers of your commands >',
And followers of your will, bridles and curbs
To the hard-headed commons that malign us.
Re-enter Camillo, Menallo, Cleanthes, and Tony. They come here to do honour to my sister, To laugh at your severity, and fright us : If they had power, what would these men do ! Do you hear, sir, how privily they whisper ?
Fred. I shall silence 'em. And to theii' shames, within this week, Sorano ; In the mean time, have patience.
Sor. How they leer ^, And look upon me as I were a monster ! And talk and jeer ! — How I shall pull your plumes, lords. How I shall humble ye within these two days ! Your great names, nor your country, cannot save ye. \_Aside.
Re-enter Castruccio with Evanthe.
Fred. Let in the suitors. [Exit Castruccio.
Yet submit, I'll pardon you : You are half-undone ah-eady ; do not wind My anger to that height, it may consume you. And utterly destroy thee, fair Evanthe : Yet I have mercy.
Evan. Use it to your bawds ; To me use cruelty, it best becomes you. And shews more kingly : I contemn your mercy ! It is a cozening and a bawdy mercy. Can any thing be hop'd for, to relieve me ? Or is it fit I thank you for a pity, When you have kiird my lord ?
y They should he yours, lovers of your commands] The first folio " They should be your lovers of your commands". — The second foUo " They should be lovers of your commands". — Sympson printed silently " They should be lovers, sir, of your commands"; and so his successors.
' leer] The coiTection of the Editors of 177S.— The foHos "jeere" and " jeer " ; and so Sympson.
378 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
Enter Lawyer, Physician, Captain, and Cutpurse.
Fred. Who will have her ?
Evan. My tears are gone. My tears of love to ^ my dear Valerio ; But I have fiU'd mine eyes again with anger ; Oh, were it but so powerful to consume you ! My tongue with curses I have armM against you (With maiden curses, that Heaven crowns with horrors). My heart set round with hate against thy tyranny. Oh, would my hands could hold the fire of heaven, Wrapt in the thunder that the gods revenge with. That, like stern Justice, I might fling it on thee ! Thou art a king of monsters, not of men. And shortly thou wilt turn this land to devils.
Fred. I ^11 make you one first, and a wretched devil. — Come, who will have her ?
Law. I, an ^t like your majesty. I am a lawyer; I can make her a jointure of any man's land in Naples ; — And she shall keep it too ; I have a trick for it.
Tony. Canst thou make her a jointure of thine honesty. Or thy ability, thou lewd abridgment ? Those are nonsuited and flung o'er the bar.
Phy. An 't please your majesty to give me leave, I dare accept her ; and though old I seem, lady, Like ^son, by my art I can renew Youth and abihty.
Tony. In a powdering-tub Stew thyself tender again, like a cock-chicken ; The broth may be good, but the flesh is not fit for dogs, sure.
Capt. Lady, take me, and I '11 maintain thine honour : I am a poor captain, as poor people call me. Very poor people ; for my soldiers, they Are quarter'd in the outsides of the city. Men of abihty to make good a highway ; We have but two grand enemies that oppose us. The Don Gout and the gallows.
Tony. I believe you;
' tu'\ Tlie modern editors silently print "unto".
SCENE III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 37!l
And both these you ^vill bind her for a jointure. — Now, Signior Firk •' !
Cut. Madam, take me, and be wise : I am rich and nimble, and those are rare in one man ; Every man^s pocket is my treasury. And no man wears a suit but fits me neatly. Clothes you shall have, and wear the purest linen, — I have a tribute out of every shop, lady ; Meat you shall eat, — I have my eaters'' out too, — The best and lustiest ; and drink good wine, good lady, Good quickening wine, wine that will make you caper ; And, at the worst
Tony. It is but capering short, sir. You seldom stay for agues or for surfeits ; A shaking fit of a whip sometimes overtakes you. Marry, you die most commonly of chokings ; Obstructions of the halter are your ends ever : Pray, leave your horn and your knife <^ for her to live on.
Evan. Poor wretched people, why do you wrong your- selves ? Though I fear'd death, I should fear you ten times more ; You are every one a new death, and an odious : The earth will pui-ify corrupted bodies ; You '11 make us worse, and stink eternally. Go home, go home, and get good nurses for you ; Dream not of wives.
Fred. You shall have one of 'em. If they dare venture for you.
Evan. They are dead already. Crawling diseases that must creep into The next grave they find open : are these fit husbands For her you have lov'd, sii'? though you hate me now,
* Firhl Equivalent here to Filch, — Cutpurse. But see note, vol. iv. 216.
•> caters'\ "i. e. caterers." Weber. As freciuently before, vol. i. 122, &c. — The Editors of 1778 printed "cat'rers".
= your horn and your ivu/c] Pick-pockets were said to place a case, or thimble, of hora on their thumbs, to support the edge of the knife m the act of cuttiiij; pui'ses : sec Gilford's ed. of Jonson's Worls, iv. i\'i, and my cd. of Middleton's WorTis, ii. 536.
380 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
And hate me mortally, as I hate you, Your nobleness (in that you have done otherwise, And nam'd Evauthe once as your poor mistress) Might offer worthier choice.
Fred. Speak, who dare take her For one month, and then die ?
Phy. Die, sir !
Fred. Ay, die, sir; That 's the condition.
Phy. One month is too little \
For me to repent in for my former pleasure, ?
[And] to go still on'^, unless I were sure she would kill me, And kill me delicately before my day. Make it up a year ; for by that time 1 must die. My body will hold out no longer.
Fred. No, sir ; It must be but a month.
Law. Then farewell, madam ! This is like to be a great year of dissention Among good people, and I dare not lose it ; There will be money got.
Capt. Bless your good ladyship ! There ^s nothing in the grave but bones and ashes : In taverns there 's, good wine, and excellent wenches. And surgeons while we live.
Cut. Adieu, sweet lady ! Lay me, when I am dead, near a rich alderman, I cannot pick his purse : no, I ^11 no dying ; Though I steal linen, I ^11 not steal my shrowd yet.
Law., Phy., Capt., Cut. Send you a happy match ! [Exeunt.
Tony. And you all halters ! You have deserv'd ^em richly. — These do all villanies. And mischiefs of all sorts, yet those they fear not : To flinch where a fair wench is at the stake !
Evan. Come, your sentence ! let me die. You see, sir, None of your valiant men dare venture on me ;
"• [4«d] to r/0 still on, &c.] So Weber, — an insertion recommended also by Heath {MS. Notes). — Mason says that we must either suppose the sentence to be imperfect, or read " And [/o still on ".
scENKiii.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. .'IKl
A montli's a dangerous tiling. Will you, then, be willing'^' To die at the time prefix'd ? that 1 must know too, And know it beyond doubt.
Fred. What if I did, wench ?
Evan. On that condition, if I had it certain, I would be your any thing, and you should enjoy me : However in my natiu'e I abhor you. Yet, as I live, I would be obedient to you : But, when your time came, how I should rejoice ! How then I should bestir myself to thank you ! To see your throat cut, how my heart would leap, sir ! I Avould die with you ; but first I would so torture you. And cow you in your end, so despise you, For a weak and wretclied coward you must end, siu'e ! Still make you fear and shake, despisM, still laugh at you !
Fred. Away with her ! let her die instantly !
Enter Valeric disguised.
Cam. Stay ; there ^s another, and a gentleman ; His habit shews no less. May be, his business Is for this lady^s love.
Fred. Say why you come, sii% And what you are.
Val. I am descended nobly, A prince by bii'th, and by my trade a soldier, A prince's fellow ; Abydos brought me forth ; My parents, Duke Agenor and fair ^gla ; My business hither, to renew my love With a young noble spirit, called Valerio : Our first acquaintance was at sea, in fight
* A month 's a danrjerous thing. Will you, then, he willing, &c.] Both the folios have here (what they presently repeat), — " A moneth 's a dangerous thing.
Enter Valerio disguis'd.
Fred. Away with her, let her dye instantly.
Evan. Will youthen he willing" &c. The intermediate lines between " A month 's a dangerous thin^ " and " Away with her ! let her die instantly ! " having most probably (as Weber remarks) " been crossed out in the prompter's copy, and restored in the first folio, without sufficient attention to accuracy."
382 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
Against a Turkish man-of-war, a stout one, Where lion-like I saw him shew his valour, And, as he had been made of complete virtue. Spirit and fire, no dregs of dull earth in him-
Evan. Thou art a brave gentleman, and bravely speak'st him.
Val. The vessel dancing under him for joy. And the rough whistling winds becalm'd to view him, I saw the child of honour, for he was young. Deal such an alms amongst the spiteful pagans, (His toAvering sword flew like an eager falcon,) And round about his reach invade the Turks ; He had entrench'd himself in his dead quarries +; The silver crescents on the tops they carried Slu'ank in their heads to see his rage so bloody. And from his fury sufier'd sad eclipses ; The game of death was never play'd more nobly ; The meagre thief grew wanton in his mischiefs. And his shrunk hollow eyes smil'd on his ruins.
Evan. Heaven keep this gentleman from being a suitor. For I shall ne'er deny him, he 's so noble ! [Aside.
Val. But what can last long ? Strength and spu'it wasted. And fresh supphes flew on upon this gentleman. Breathless and weary with oppression. And almost kill'd with killing. 'Twas my chance. In a tall= ship I had, to view the fight ; I set into him, entertained the Turk, And for an hour gave him so hot a breakfast. He clapp'd all linen up he had to save him. And like a lover's thought he fled our fury : There first I saw the man I lov'd, Valerio ; There was acquainted, there my soul grcAV to him, And his to me ; we were the twins of friendship.
Evan. Fortune protect this man, or I shall ruin him !
[Aside.
Val. I made this voyage to behold my friend. To warm my love anew at his afiection ;
' quarries] See note, p. 115. s tall] i. e. stout.
scENKiii] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 38:j
But, since I landed, I have heard his fate : My father's liad not been to me more cruel. I haA-e lamented too, and yet I keep The treasm'e of a few tears for you, lady ; For, by description, you were his Evanthe.
Evan. Can he weep that 's a stranger to my story, And I stand still and look on ? Sir, I thank you : If noble spirits after their departiu'e Can know, and wish, certain his soul gives thanks too. There are your tears again ; and, when yours fail, sir, Pray you, call to me, I have some store to lend you. Your name ?
Val. Urbino.
Evan. That I may remember. That little time I have to live, your friendships. My tongue shall study both.
Fred. Do you come hither Only to teU this story, Prince Urbino ?
Val. My business now is, sir, to woo this lady.
Evan. Blessing defend you ! do you know the danger ?
Val. Yes, and I fear it not ; danger 's my playfellow ; Since I was man, 't has been my best companion. — I know yom' doom ; 'tis for a month you give her. And then his life you take that marries her.
Fred. 'Tis true ; nor can your being born a prince. If you accept the offer, free you from it.
Val, I not desii'e it ; I have cast'^ the worst, And even that worst to me is many blessings. I lov'd my friend, not measm^'d out by time. Nor liir'd by cii'cumstance of place and lionom' ; But for his wealthy self and worth I loVd him. His mind and noble mould he ever moA^d in ; And woo his friend because she was Avorthy of him, The only relic that he left behind, sfr. To give his ashes honour. — Lady, take me, And in me keep Valerio's love alive still. When I am gone, take those that shall succeed me :
^ ccisf^ i, e. considered.
384 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
Heaven must want light, before you want a husband, To raise up heirs of love and noble memory To your unfortunate
Evan. Am I still hated ? Hast thou no end, oh, fate, of my affliction ? Was I ordained to be a common mui'deress ? And of the best men too ? Good sir
Vol. Peace, sweet ! Look on my hand. [/Lside to her.
Evan. I do accept the gentleman. — 1 faint with joy ! [Aside.
Fred. I stop it : none shall have her. Convey this stranger hence.
Val. [throwing off his disguise'] I am no stranger. Hark to the bell that rings ! [Bell rings within.
Hark, hark, proud Frederick, that was king of mischief! Hark, thou abhorr'd man ! dost thou hear thy sentence ? Does not this bell ring in thine ears thy ruin ?
Fred. What bell is this ?
Cam. The castle-bell. Stand sure, sir. And move not ; if you do, you perish.
Men. It rings your knell ! Alphonso ! King Alphonso !
All. Alphonso ! King Alphonso !
Fred. I am betray'd ! — Lock fast the palace.
Cam. We have aU the keys, su*. And no door here shall shut without our licence.
Cle. Do you shake now. Lord Sorano? no new trick? Nor speedy poison to prevent this business ? No bawdy meditation now to fly to ?
Fred. Treason, treason, treason !
Cam. Yes, we hear you. And we have found the traitor in yoiu' shape, sir ; We '11 keep him fast too. [They seize Frederick.
Enter Alphonso, Rugio, Marco, Castruccio, and Marta,
with Guard. Fred. Recover'd! then I am gone; The sun of all my pomp is set and vanished.
SCENE rii.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 385
Alph. Have you not forgot this face of mine, King Frederick ? Brother, I am come to see you, and have brought A banquet, to be merry with yoiu' grace : I pray, sit down, I do beseech 3'^our majesty, And eat, eat freely, sir. Why do you start ? Have you no stomach to the meat I bring you? Dare you not taste ? have you no antidotes ? You need not fear ; Sorano 's a good apothecary. Methinks you look not well ; — some fresh wine for him, Some of the same he sent me by Sorano ! — I thank you for 't, it saVd my life, I am bound to you ;
But how ^twill work on you 1 hope youi' lordship
Will pledge him too ; methinks you look but scurAily,
And would be put into a better colour ;
But I have a candied toad for your good lordship.
Sor. Would I had any thing that wovdd despatch me. So it were down, and I out of this fear once ! [Aside.
Fred. Sir, thus low, as my duty now compels me,
[He and Maria kneel. I do confess my unbounded sins^ my errors. And feel within my soul the smarts already. Hide not the noble natui'e of a brother. The pity of a friend, from my afflictions ; Let me a while lament my misery, And cast the load oiF of my wantonness. Before I find your fury ; then strike home (I do deserve the deepest blow of Justice) ; And then how willingly, oh, death, I ^11 meet thee !
Alph. Rise, madam ; those sweet tears are potent
speakers : — And, brother, live ; but in the monastery Wliere I liv'd, with the self-same silence too : I '11 teach you to be good against youi' will, brother : Youi- tongue has done much harm ; that must be dumb
now; The daily pilgrimage to my father's tomb (Tears, sighs, and groans, you shall wear out yom* days with. And true ones too) you shall perform, dear brother ;
VOL. IX. c c
386 A WIFE FOR A MONTH. [act v.
Your diet shall l)e slender to enforce these ; Too light a penance, sir.
Fred. I do confess it.
Alph. Sorano^ you shall
Sor. How he studies for it ! Hanging 's the least part of my penance, certain. [Aside.
[EvANTHE kneels.
Alph. What lady 's that that kneels ?
Cast. The chaste Evanthe.
Alph. Sweet, your petition ?
Evan. ^Tis for this bad man, sii', Abominable bad, but yet my brother.
Alp)h. The bad man shall attend as bad a master, And both shall be confin'd within the monastery : His rank flesh shall be puU'd with daily fasting ; But once a- week he shall smell meat, he will surfeit else ; And his immodest mind compell'd to prayer ; On the bare boards he shall lie, to remember The wantonness he did commit in beds ; And drink fair water ; that will ne'er inflame him : He sav'd my life, though he purpos'd to destroy me. For which I ^11 save his, though I make it miserable. — Madam, at court I shall desire your company; [To Maria. You are wise and ^drtuous ; when you please to visit My brother Frederick, you shall have our licence. — My dear best friend Valerie !
Val. Save Alphonso !
All. Long live Alphonso, king of us and Naples !
Alph. Is this the lady that the wonder goes on ? Honoured sweet maid ! — Here, take her, my Valerio ; The king now gives her, she is thine own without fear. — Brother, have you so much provision that is good. Not seasoned by Sorano and his cooks. That we may venture on with honest safety, We and our friends ?
Fred. All that I have is yours, sir.
Alph. Come, then ; let 's in, and end this nuptial ; Then to our coronation with all speed. — ■ My \drtuous maid, this day I '11 be your bride-man,
scKNE III.] A WIFE FOR A MONTH. 387
And see you bedded to yoiir own desires too. —
Beslirew me, lords, who is not merry hates me !
Onl}^ Sorano shall not bear my cup.
Come, now forget old pains and injuries,
As I must do, and drown all in fair healths :
That kingdom 's blessed, where the king begins
His true love first, for there all loves arc twins. [Exeunt.
EPILOGUE.
We have your favours, gentlemen, and you Have our endeavours (dear friends, grudge not now). There 's none of you, but when you please can sell ]\Iany a lame horse, and many a fail' tale tell ; Can put off many a maid unto a friend. That was not so since the action at Mile-end': Ours is a virgin yet, and they that love Untainted flesh, we hope om* friends will prove.
i the action at Mile-end] " At Mile-end the train-bands were frequently exer- cised, and of course mock-fights were exhibited there. The action here referred to is perhaps the same Avith the one alluded to ui Moiisieur Thomas (vol. \'ii. 365) and TlieKnifjht of the Burning Pestle (vol. ii. 156)." Weber.
C C 2
i
RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE.
Kvle a Wife and have a Wife. A Comady. Acted hy his Majesties Servants. Written hy John Fletcher Gent. Oxford, Printed by Leonard Lichfield Printer to the University Anno 1640, 4to.
In the folio 1679.
«
This comedy, wholly from the pen of Fletcher, was licensed Oct. 1!», 1024, by Sir Henry Herbert, among whose memoranda we also find the following notices concerning it ;
" Upon All-hollows night, 1G24, the king beinge at Roiston, no play.
" The night after, my Lord Chamberlin had Rule a Wife and Have a Wife for the ladys, by the kings company.
" Upon St. Steevens night, the prince only being there, Rule a Wife and Have a Wife, by the kings company. Att Whitehall."
Malone's Shakespeare (by Boswell), iii. 226, 228.
The under-plot of Perez and Estifania is derived from the eleventh of Cervantes' Novelas E.remplares, entitled El Casamiento Enyanoso : Weher's analysis of that tale is now (with very considerable alterations) subjoined.
"The alferez" Campuzano one morning issued from the Hospital of the Resurrection in Valladolid. His yellow countenance, and the thinness of his legs, shewed that he had been long under the care of the surgeon. He was met by his friend the licentiate Peralta, who, astonished at his appearance, and wondering that he had not joined the army in Flanders, expressed a wish to be informed how he had been reduced to such a condition. Campuzano said that he owed it to a woman whom he had married ; and related the following adventures- — Being one day in company with the captain Pedro de Herrera, two women entered the room, one of whom, taking the captain aside, requested him to carry letters to a relation in Flanders. The alferez addressed himself to the other lady, whose face was partly concealed by a veil, which he in vain urged her to withdraw ; and his curiosity was the more inflamed by her displaying a very white hand adorned with sparkling rings. He was, at that time, in splendid attire, and had a great chain about his neck (which Peralta recollected to have seen him wear) ; and he thought it impossible that any woman could resist his good looks and magnificent dress. The lady, however, was deaf to all his entreaties to remove the veil : but at last she directed him to send a servant after her to note her
* ai/crcz'] i. e. enbign.
3.92
place of abode, and then to visit her himself, promising that she would receive him courteously, and that their acquaintance, if they happened to like each other, should terminate in a closer intimacy. He readily obeyed her ; and, on going to her house next day, he found that she was about thirty, of considerable though not superlative beauty. After several visits, the fair one, whose name was Donna Estefania de Caicedo, consented to share her large possessions with him. They were accord- ingly married in the presence of two friends of Campuzano, and a youth whom Estefania stated to be her cousin. The goods of the husband, consisting of his great chain and other articles, were transferred to the dwelling of the lady, to whom he also paid a sum of 400 reals, for the expences of the house. After some days had passed in every kind of luxury, one morning, before the pair had risen, they heard a loud knocking, and a servant girl informed them that Donna Clementa Bueso, accompanied by Don Lope Melendez de Almendarez, was at the door. Estefania had scarcely time to desire her husband not to be disturbed by any thing that should occur, and to maintain an obstinate silence, when her mistress entered, who was not a little sur- prised to find her bed occupied. The poor gulled Alferez, having put on his clothes, was led into another room by Estefania, who assured him that the whole was a mere deception, to make Don Lope believe that the house belonged to Donna Clementa, in order to induce him to espouse her ; and that, after their marriage, every circumstance would be dis- covered, and the mansion restored to herself, the rightful owner. The couple then retired to a mean house in the neighbourhood, whither the trunk of the alferez was carried, and where, for six days, he continually reproached his wife with the absurd promise she had made to her friend. One morning, in the absence of Estefania, the hostess questioned him concerning his frequent quarrels with his spouse ; and having heard the tale of the marriage, and the subsequent adventures, she (after some hesitation) told him that Donna Clementa was the real owner of the mansion, and that Estefania had no possessions except the clothes upon her back ; adding, that she could only excuse her when she reflected what an excellent husband had been obtained by the trick. At this intelligence, Campuzano was on the point of desperation. He immediately took his sword, and went in search of his wife, but was unable to find her ; and a visit to the mansion of Donna Clementa only confirmed the relation of the hostess. On returning to his lodgings, he found that Estefania had been there, and that, hearing of the disclosure made to him by the hostess, and of his rage in consequence, she had opened the trunk, rifled it, and left the house. — Here the licentiate
393
interrupted the narrative of his friend, and expatiated upon the loss he had sustained, particularly that of the large golden chain, which lie supposed to be worth two hundred ducats. But Campuzano said that the chain and his other trinkets were no more than excellent counter- feits, and that the value of all he possessed did not exceed ten or twelve escudoes. — He discovered that the pretended cousin, who had acted as witness at the marriage, was the lover of his spouse, whom he imme- diately abandoned to her fate. A disease, which he owed to his unfortu- nate marriage, soon attacked him in all its virulence ; and, as he had no means of procuring the proper remedies elsewhere, he had been obliged to enter the hospital." — " The rest of the tale," adds Weber, " is merely an introduction to the twelfth and most admirable of Cervantes's novels, — a conversation Campuzano is supposed to have overheard between Berganza and Cipion, two of the hospital dogs."
Till the theatres were closed by authority, this comedy was doubtless popular. A droll taken from it, and called A71 Equall Match, which was acted during the suppression of play-houses, is extant in Ku-kman's collection. The Wits, or Sport upon Sport, Part First, 1672, p. 45 (see vol. i. 200 of the present work). On the revival of dramatic entertain- ments, it again became a favourite; and with some alterations (made when Garrick brought out the play'' at Drury-lane Theatre in l7o9) it still contiimes to be occasionally performed.
•> " Though the alteration [of Rule a Wife and Have a Wi/eJ has been actually printed with his [Garrick's] name annexed, yet we can no longer ascribe it to him, having seen an express and positive disavowal of it under his hand, in a letter dated Aug. 19, 1776." Bio(/. Dram. ed. 1812.
PROLOGUE.
Pleasure attend ye ! and about ye sit The springs of mirtli, fancy, delight, and wit. To stir you up ! Do not your looks let fall. Nor to remembrance our late errors call. Because this day we ^re Spaniards all again '', The story of our play, and our scene Spain : The errors, too, do not for this cause hate ; Now we present their wit, and not their state. Nor, ladies, be not angry, if you see A young fresh beauty, wanton, and too free, Seek to abuse her husband ; still ^tis Spain ; No such gross errors in yoiu- kingdom reign ; You're vestals all^; and, though we blow the fire, We seldom make it flame up to desire.
" Nor to remembrance our late errors call. Because this day we Ve Spaniards all again, &c.] The allusion here is doubtless to Middleton's Game at Chess, which had been produced at the Globe very shortly before the 12th August, 1624. In that remarkable drama Middleton ventured to bring upon the stage both the English and the Spanish court (a great portion of the satire being aimed at Gondomar). As might be expected, the play proved highly attractive ; and it had been already performed " for nuie days together ", when, in consequence of a complaint made by the Spanish ambassador to King James, it was suppressed, and the author and actors were cited before the Privy Covmcil. We find, however, that eventually no punish- ment was inflicted either on Middleton or on the actors, except that the latter were for a time interdicted from performing that or any other play ; and the lenity shown towards them is probably to be attributed to the circumstance that A Game at Chess had been produced under the authority of the Master of the Revels. See Middleton's Worl's, vol. iv. ed. Dyce, and the Account of the author prefixed to vol. i. of that collection.
i" You're vestals all, Sic] So Seward, at .Sympson's suggestion; and so his successors. — Both the old eds. " Ware". — Among Heath's MS. Notes I find the following defence of the old readuig. " The same persons who blow the fii-e and make it flame are most certainly the Vestals, who had anciently no other
395
Take no example neither to begin^
For some by precedent delight to sin ;
Nor blame the poet if he slip*^ aside
Sometimes lasci^dously^ if not too wide ;
But hold your fans close, and then smile at ease :
A cruel scene did never lady please.
Nor, gentlemen, pray, be not you displeas'd.
Though we present some men fool'd, some diseasM,
Some drunk, some mad : we mean not you, you're free ;
We tax no farther than our comedy ;
You are om' friends ; sit noble, then, and see.
emplojTiient than to tend and take care of the sacred fire. The sense is, We players pretty nearly resemble the ancient Vestals ; we keep the fire of love alive, and gently blow it, for such is for the most part the tendency of the pieces we I'epresent ; but we seldom make it flame up as high as desire ; om* action has very rai'ely so dangerous an effect as that upon the audience." In spite of these ingenious remarks, I agree with Sewai'd that the context requires "You're." To suppose that the poet would make "these harlotry players" call themselves " vestals " is sm-ely ridiculous. ■= slq^] Weber chose to print " slipt ".
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Duke of Medina.
Juan de Castro, a colonel.
Sanchio, "^
Alonzo, y Captains.
Michael Perez, "^ J
Leon, brother to Altea.
Cacafogo, a usui'er.
Lorenzo, Coachman, Boy, and other Servants.
Margarita, a rich heiress.
Altea, "^
Estefania, > her attendants.
Other Ladies, J
Clara.
Three old Ladies.
Old woman.
Two Maids.
Scene, — Seville '', (md a Country-house near it.
"^ Michael Perezi Is called in the modern editions " the Copper Captain ". The old cds. do not give the Dram. Pers. •^ Seville'] See the last scene of the first act, p. 409.
RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE.
ACT I. SCENE I. — Seville. A room in a lodging-house.
Enter Juan and Perez.
Perez. Arc yom* companies full, colonel ?
Juan. No, not yet, sir ; Nor will not be this month yet, as I reckon. How rises your command ?
Perez. We pick up still, And, as our moneys hold out, we have men come : About that time T think we shall be full too. Many young gallants go.
Juan. And imexperiencM : The wars are dainty dreams to young hot spirits ; Time and experience will allay those visions. We have strange things to fill our numbers ^ : There ^s one Don Leon, a strange'' goodly fellow, Hecommended to me from some noble fi'iends, For my alferez*^: had you but seen his person, And what a giant's promise it protesteth !
Perez. I have heard of him, and that he hath served before too.
.Tuan. But no harm done, nor never meant, Don Michael,
* numh€rs'\ Seward silently printed " numbers up ".
'' strange] " i. e. uncommonly." Mason. — Theobald proposed to read " strong ", which was adopted by the Editors of 1778. ■^ alferez] "i.e. ensign. S2Mnish." Weber.
398 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act i.
That came to my ears yet. Ask him a question.
He blushes like a girl, and answers little.
To the point less ; he wears a sword, a good one.
And good clothes too ; he is whole-skinn'd, has no hurt yet ;
Good promising hopes ; I never yet heard certainly
Of any gentleman that saw him angry.
Perez. Preserve him ; he '11 conclude a peace, if need be. Many as strong ^ as he will go along with us. That swear as valiantly as heart can wish, Their mouths charged with six oaths at once, and whole
ones. That make the drunken Dutch creep into mole-hills.
Juan. 'Tis true, such we must look for. But, Michael Perez, When heard you of Donna Margarita, the great heiress ?
Perez. I hear every hour of her, though I never saw her ; She is the main discourse. Noble Don Juan de Castro, How happy were that man could catch this wench up. And live at ease ! she is fair, and young, and wealthy, Infinite wealthy, and as gracious too In all her entertainments, as men report.
Juan. But she is proud, sir; that I know for certain; And that comes seldom without wantonness : He that shall marry her must have a rare hand.
Perez. Would I were married ! I wovdd find that wisdom, With a light rein to rule my wife : if ever woman Of the most subtlest <> mould went beyond me, I would give the boys leave to hoot me out o' the parish. Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, there be two gentlewomen attend to speak with you.
Juan. Wait on 'em in.
Perez. Are they two handsome women ?
Serv. They seem so, very handsome ; but they are veil'd, sir.
<= strong'] "Used here ironically." Ed. 1778.— Theobald proposed to read « strange ". — Seward printed " stout ".
•J subtlest] " So the quarto reads, according to the phraseology of the age. The modern editors read, with the foho 1679, ' subtile '." Weber.
SCENE I] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 399
Perez. Thou putt'st sugar iu my mouth; how it melts with me ! I love a sweet young Avench.
Juan. Wait on them in^ I say. [Exit Servant.
Perez. Don Juan !
Juan. How j'ou itch, Michael ! how you bmniish ! Will not this soldier's heat out of yoiu* bones yet ? Do yom* eyes glow now ?
Perez. There be two.
Juan. Say honest ; What shame have you, then^ !
Perez. I would fain sec that : I have been in the Indies twice, and liave seen strange things; But, two honest women ! one I read of once.
Juan. Prithee, be modest.
Perez. I '11 be any thing.
Re-enter Servant, tcith Clara and Estepania veiled.
Juan. You are welcome, ladies.
Perez. Both hooded ! I like ^em well though. They come not for advice in law, sui-e, hither : May be they would learn to raise the pike ; I am for 'em. They are very modest ; 'tis a fine preludium. [Aside.
Juan. With me, or with this gentleman, would you speak, lady?
Clara. With you, sii', as I guess ; Juan de Castro.
[Unveils.
Perez. Her curtain opens ; she is a pretty gentlewoman.
[Aside.
Juan. I am the man, and shall be bound to fortune, I may do any service to your beauties.
Clara. Captain, I hear you are marching down to Flanders, To ser\'e the CathoUc king.
Juan. I am, sweet lady.
Clara. I have a kinsman, and a noble friend, Employ'd in those wars ; may be, sir, you know him ;
' Wuit shame have you,thcn /] " The mcaiiing,as the Last editors [of 1778] explam it, is prob.ibly ' how will you be disgraced, if you offer gallantry wliei-c it will not be .accepted ! ' " Weber. Theobald pi-oposed to read " What share ", <<cc.
400 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act i.
Don Campuzano*^ captain of carbines,
To whom I would request your nobleness
To give this poor remembrance. [Gives a letter.
Juan. I shall do it ; I know the gentleman, a most worthy captain.
Clara. Something in private.
Juan. Step aside; 1^11 serve thee. [Ea^eunt Jvat^ a7id Clara.
Perez. Prithee, let me see thy face.
Estef. Sir, you must pardon me : Women of our sort, that maintain fair memories s, And keep suspect off from their chastities. Had need wear thicker veils.
Perez. I am no blaster of a lady's beauty, Nor bold intruder on her special favours ; I know how tender reputation is, And with what guards it ought to be preserved, lady : You may to me.
Estef. You must excuse me, signior ; I come not here to sell myself.
Perez. As I am a gentleman ! By the honour of a soldier !
Estef. I believe you ; I pray you^ be civil; I believe you would see me. And, when you have seen me, I believe you will like me ; But in a strange place, to a stranger too. As if I came on purpose to betray you ! Indeed, I will not.
Perez. I shall love you dearly ; And 'tis a sin to fling away affection : I have no mistress, no desire to honour Any but you. — Will not this oyster open ? — [Aside.
I know not, you have struck me with your modesty — She will draw, sure [Aside. '\ — so deep, and taken from me All the desire I might bestow on others
\
Quickly, before they come !
Estef. Indeed, I dare not : But, since I see you are so desirous, sir,
' Camjmzano] " In the novel of Cervantes this is the name of the person who answers to the Michael Perez of the play." Weber. See p. 391. s memories] i. e. reputations.
SCENE I] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 401
To view a poor face that can merit nothing But your repentance
Perez. It must needs be excellent.
Estef. And with what honesty you ask it of me ; AVhcn I am gone let your man follow me, And \dcw what house I enter ; thither come ; For there I dare be bold to appear open, And, as I like your virtuous carriage then, I shall be able to give welcome to you.
Re-enter Juan and Clara. She hath done her business ; I must take my leave, sir.
Perez. I '11 kiss yom* fair white hand, and thank you, lady: My man shall wait, and I shall be your servant. — Sirrah, come near; hark. [Whispers Servant.
Serv. I shall do it faithfully. [JExit.
Juan. You will command me no more services ?
Clara. To be careful of your noble health, dear sir. That I may ever honour you.
Juan. I thank you. And kiss your hands. — Wait on the ladies down there !
[To Servants within. — Exeunt Clara and Estefania.
Perez. You had the honour to see the face that came to you.
Juan. And 'twas a fair one : what was yours, Don Michael?
Perez. Mine was i' th' eclipse, and had a cloud drawn over it ; But I believe well, and I hope, 'tis handsome : She had a hand would stir a holy hermit.
Juan. You know none of 'em ?
Perez. No.
Juan. Then I do, captain; But I '11 say nothing till I see the proof on 't. — Sit close, Don Perez, or your worship 's caught : I fear a fly''. [Aside.
^ I fear ajli/] " Seward is right in supposing that this is an allusion to fishing [with Hies] ; which is confirmed by the preceding line, and by a passage in the 2d act [4th scene], where Estefania says,
' He is mine own, I have him : I told thee what would tickle him like a trout ; And as I cast it, so I caught him daintily', &c. " Mason. VOL. IX. D D
402 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act i.
Perez. Were those she brought love-letters ?
Juan. A packet to a kinsman now in Flanders, Yours was very modest, methought.
Perez. Some young unmanag'd thing ; But I may live to see
Juan. ^Tis worth experience. Let 's walk abroad, and view our companies. \Eoceunt.
I
SCENE II.— A street. Enter Sanchio and Alonzo.
Sane. What, are you for the wars, Alonzo ?
Alon. It may be ay, It may be no ; e'en as the humour takes me. If I find peace amongst the female creatures, And easy entertainment, I 'U stay at home ; I am not so far oblig'd yet to long marches And mouldy biscuits, to run mad for honour. When you are all gone, I have my choice before me.
Sane. Of which hospital thou wilt sweat in. Wilt thou never leave whoring?
Alon. There is less danger in 't than gunning, Sanchio : Though we be shot sometimes, the shot 's not mortal ; Besides, it breaks no limbs.
Sane. But it disables 'em : Dost thou see how thou puUest thy legs after thee, As they hung by points'' ?
Alon. Better to pull 'em thus, than walk on wooden ones; Serve bravely for a billet to support me.
Sane. Fie, fie ! 'tis base.
Alon. Dost thou count it base to suffer ? Suffer abundantly ? 'tis the crown of honour. You think it nothing to lie twenty days Under a surgeon's hands, that has no mercy.
Sane. As thou hast done, I am sure. But I perceive now
'' jpomfe] See note, vol. ii, i 97.
I
SCENE ri.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 403
Why you desire to stay ; the orient heiress, The Margarita, sir'!
Alon. I would I had her !
Sane. They say she will marry.
Alon. Yes, I think she will.
Sa7ic. And marry suddenly, as report goes, too : She fears her youth will not hold out, Alonzo.
Alon. I would I had the sheathing on 't !
Smic. They say too She has a greedy eye, that must be fed With more than one man's meat.
Alon. Would she were mine ! I would cater for her well enough. But, Sanchio, There be too many great men that adore her ; Princes, and princes' fellows, that claim pri\dlege.
Sane. Yet those stand off i' the way of marriage : To be tied to a man's pleasure is a second labour J.
Alon. She has bought a brave house here in town.
Sane. I. have heard so.
Alon. If she convert it now to pious uses, And bid poor gentlemen welcome !
Sane. When comes she to it ?
Alon. Within these two days ; she is in the country yet. And keeps the noblest house !
Satic. Then there 's some hope of her. Wilt thou go my way ?
Alon. No, no, I must leave you. And repair to an old gentlcAvoman that Has credit with her, that can speak a good word.
Sane. Send thee good fortune ! but make thy body sound first.
Alon. I am a soldier, and too sound a body Becomes me not. Farewell, Sanchio. \_Ea:eunt severally.
• the orient heiress,
The Marcjarita, s/c] " He calls her orient in allusion to her name, — Marr/arita being the Spanish (Latin, and Italian) for a pearl : the same allusion occurs in act iii. sc. 3". Weber (the note altered).
> To be tied to a man's pleasure is a second labour] " To obtain a man's plea- sure, is the first labour ; to be tied to it, a second. This appeal's to be Sanchio 's meaning." Mason.
D D 2
404 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act i.
SCENE III. — Another street ; before the house o/Margarita.
Enter Servant'*. Serv. ^Tis this or that house, or I have lost my aim ; They are both fair buildings. She walk'd plaguy fast ; And hereabouts I lost her.
Enter Estefania.
Stay ; that '% she, ^Tis very she. She makes me a low court'sy. Let me note the place ; the street I well remember.
[Exit Estefania into the house 0/ Margarita. She is in again. Certain some noble lady : How happy should I be if she love my master ! A wondrous goodly house ; here are brave lodgings. And I shall sleep now like an emperor. And eat abundantly : I thank my fortune. I '11 back with speed, and bring him happy tidings. [Exit,
I
SCENE rV.—The Country.— Before the house of Margarita.
Enter three old Ladies.
First Lady. What should it mean, that in such haste we are sent for ?
Sec. Lady. Belike the Lady Margaret has some business She would break to us in private.
Third Lady. It should seem so. 'Tis a good lady, and a wise young lady.
Sec. Lady. And virtuous enough too, I warrant you. For a young woman of her years : 'tis pity To load her tender age with too much virtue.
" Servant] The old eds. add « of Michael Perez ", a piece of information quite unnecessary for those who have read the first scene of the play.
SCENE v.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 405
Third Lady. ^Tis more sometimes than we can well away
with'.
Enter Altea.
Altea. Good morrow, ladies.
All. Morrow, my good madam.
First Lady. How does the sweet young beauty, Lady Margaret ?
Sec. Lady. Has she slept well after her walk last night ?
First Lady. Are her dreams gentle to her mind ?
Altea. All 's well ; She 's very well : she sent for you thus suddenly. To give her counsel in a business That much concerns her.
Sec. Lady. She does well and wisely, To ask the counsel of the ancient^ st, madam ; Our years have run through many things she knows not.
Altea. She woidd fain marry.
First Lady. 'Tis a proper calling. And well beseems her years. Who would she yoke with ?
Altea. That ^s left to argue on. I pray, come in, And break your fast ; drink a good cup or two, To strengthen your understandings ; then she '11 tell ye.
Sec. Lady. And good wine breeds good counsel; we'll yield to you. [Exeunt.
SCENE Y.— Seville.— A street.
Enter Juan and Leon. Juan. Have you seen any service ? Leon. Yes. Juan. Where ? Leon. Every where. Juan. What office bore you ? Leon. None ; I was not worthy, Juan. Wliat captains know you ?
' aiaay with] i. c. endui'e ("'I cannot away with,'" Richardson observes, " is — I cannot move with ; ui unison with." Diet, in v. Aioay).
406 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [^CT i.
Leon. None ; they were above rae.
Juan. Were you never hurt ?
Leon. Not that I well remember ; But once I stole a hen, and then they beat me. Pray, ask me no long questions ; I have an ill memory.
Juan. This is an ass \_Aside'\ . — Did you never draw your sword yet ?
Leon. Not to do any harm, I thank Heaven for ^t.
Juan. Nor ne^er ta' en prisoner?
Leon. No, I ran away, For I had ne'er no money to redeem me,
Juan. Can you endure a drum?
Leon. It makes my head ache.
Juan. Are you not valiant when you are drunk ?
Leon. I think not ; But 1 am loving, sir.
Juan. What a lump is this man ! [Aside.
Was your father wise ?
Leon. Too wise for me, I 'm sure, For he gave all he had to my younger brother.
Juan. That was no foolish part, I '11 bear you witness. Canst thou lie with a woman ?
Leon. I think I could make shift, sir ; But I am bashful.
Juan. In the night ?
Leon. I know not ; Darkness indeed may do some good upon me.
Juan. Why art thou sent to me to be my officer. Ay, and commended too, when thou dar'st not fight ?
Leon. There be more officers of my opinion. Or I am cozen' d, sir ; men that talk more too.
Juan. How wilt thou scape a bullet ?
Leon. Why, by chance : They aim at honourable men ; alas, I am none, sir !
Juan. This fellow has some doubts in 's talk, that strike me; He cannot be all fool. — [Aside.
Enter Alonzo.
Welcome, Alonzo !
SCENE v.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 407
Alon. What have you got there ? Temperance into your company ? The spirit of peace? we shall have wars by tV ounce, then.
Enter Cacafogo. Oh, here ^s another pumpion"'; let him loose for luck-sake ; The crammM son of a starv'd usiu'er, Cacafogo : Both their brains butter'd cannot make two spoonfuls.
Cac. My father 's dead ; I am a man of war too, Moneys, demesnes ; I have ships at sea too, captains.
Juan. Take heed o' th' Hollanders ; your ships may leak else.
Cac. I scorn the Hollanders ; they are my drunkards.
Alon. Put up your gold, sir ; I '11 borrow it else.
Cac. I am satisfied, you shall not. — Come out ; I know thee ; meet mine anger instantly !
Leon. I never wrong' d you.
Cac. Thou hast WTong'd mine honour ; Thou look'dst upon my mistress thrice lasciviously ; I '11 make it good.
Juan. Do not heat yourself; you will surfeit.
Cac. Thou wann'st my money, too, with a pair of base bones. In whom there was no truth ; for which I beat thee, I beat thee much : now I will hurt thee dangerously ; This shall provoke thee. [Strikes Leon.
Alon. You struck too low by a foot, sir.
Juan. You must get a ladder when you would beat this fellow.
Leon. I cannot choose but kick again; pray, pardon me.
[Kicks Cacafogo.
Cac. Hadst thou not ask'd my pardon, I had kiU'd thee. I leave thee as a thing despis'd. — Beso las manos" a vuestra senoria. [Exit.
" pumpion] i. e. pumpkin.
" Beso las manos, &c.] Both the old eds. " assoles maniis a vostra siniare a Maistre "; for what " a Maistre " is intended, a very acute Spaniard, to whom I submitted the passage, was unable to conjecture.
•t08 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act i.
Alon. You have scap'd hy miracle; there is not, in all Spain, A spirit of more fury than this fire-drake ».
Leon. I see he is hasty ; and I would give him leave To beat me soundly, if he would take my bond.
Juan. What shall I do with this fellow ?
Alon. Turn him off: He will infect the camp with cowardice. If he go with thee.
Juan. About some week hence, sir. If I can hit upon no abler officer. You shall hear from me.
Leon. I desire no better.
[Exeunt, on one side, Juan ««</ Alonzo; on the other, Leon.
SCENE VI. — Seville. — An apartment in the house of Margarita.
Enter Estefania and Perez.
Perez. You have made me now too bountiful amends, lady. For your strict carriage when you saw me first. These beauties were not meant to be conceal'd ; It was a wrong to hide so sweet an object ; I could now chide you, but it shall be thus : [Kisses her.
No other anger ever touch your sweetness !
Estef. You appear to me so honest and so civil. Without a blush, sir, I dare bid you welcome.
Perez. Now let me ask your name.
Estef. 'Tis Estefania ; The heir of this poor place.
Perez. Poor, do you call it ? There ""s nothing that I cast mine eyes upon. But shews both rich and admirable ; all the rooms Arc hung as if a princess were to dwell here ;
" fire-drake} See note, p. (58,
SCE.NE VI.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 409
The gardens^ orchards, every thing so cuiious ! Is all that plate your o\ni too ?
Estef. 'Tis but little, Oul}^ for present use ; I have more and richer. When need shall call, or friends compel me use it. The suits you see of all the upper chambers Are those that commonly adorn the house : I think I have, besides, as fan' as Seville, Or any town? in Spain, can parallel.
Perez. Now, if she be not married, I have some hopes. —
\^Aside. Are you a maid ?
Estef. You make me blush to answer ; I ever was accounted so to this hour. And that ^s the reason that I li^ e retir'd, sir.
Perez. Then would I counsel you to marry presently, — If I can get her, I am made for ever, — \_Aside.
For every year you lose, you lose a beauty ; A husband now, an honest careful husband. Were such a comfort ! Will you walk above stairs ?
Estef. This place will fit our talk ; ^tis fitter far, sir ; Above there are day-beds'), and such temptations I dare not trust, sii'.
Perez. She is excellent wise withal too. [Aside.
Estef. You namM a husband ; I am not so strict, sir. Nor tied unto a m'gin^s soUtai'iness, But if an honest, and a noble one, Kich, and a soldier (for so I have vow'd he shall be), Were ofi'er^d me, I think I should accept him ; But, above all, he must love.
Perez. He were base else. —
p as fair as Seville,
Or any town, &c.] The 4to has, —
" asfaive as ci^^ll, Or any tovme ", &c. The second folio (the editor of which did not perceive that " civill " was a cor- mption of the city's name) reads, —
" as fair, as civil. As any town ", &c. 1 day-beds] i. e. a sort of couches or sofas.
410 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act i.
There ^s comfort minister'd in the word soldier :
How sweetly should I live ! [Aside.
Estef. I am not so ignorant. But that I know well how to be commanded, And how again to make myself obeyM, sir : I waste but little, I have gathered much ; My rial not the less worth, when 'tis spent. If spent by my direction : to please my husband, I hold it as indifferent in my duty. To be his maid i' the kitchen, or his cook. As in the hall to know myself the mistress,
Perez. Sweet, rich, and provident ! now fortune stick to me ! — [Aside.
I am a soldier, and a bachelor, lady ; And such a wife as you I could love infinitely : They that use many words, some are deceitful ; I long to be a husband, and a good one ; For 'tis most certain I shall make a precedent For all that follow me to love their ladies. I am young, you see, able I would have you think too ; If 't please you know, try me before you take me. 'Tis true, I shall not meet in'' equal wealth with you; But jewels, chains, such as the war has given me, A thousand ducats I dare presume on* In ready gold, (now as your care may handle it) As rich clothes too as any he bears arms, lady.
Estef. You are a true gentleman, and fair, I see by you ; And such a man I had rather take
Perez. Pray, do so : I '11 have a priest o' the sudden.
Estef. And as suddenly You will repent too.
Perez. I 'U be hang'd or drown'd fii'st. By this, and this, and this kiss ! [Kisses her.
' m] Weber chose to print " an ".
' A thousand d/ucats I dare j)^'esume on] Seward silently px'inted, for the metre, —
" A thousand ducats too I dare presume on ".
His successors regulated this passage very improperly.
SCENE I] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 411
Estef. You arc a flatterer ; But I must say there was sometliing, when I saw you first, In that most noble face that stirr'd my fancy.
Perez. I '11 stii" it better ere you sleep, sweet lady. I ^11 send for all my trunks, and give up all to you, Into yom* own dispose, before I bed you ; And then, sweet wench
Estef. You have the art to cozen me. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — The Country. — An apartment in the house of Margarita.
Enter Margarita, two old Ladies^, and Altea.
Marg, Sit down, and give me your opinions seriously.
First Lady. Y^ou say you have a mind to marry, lady ?
Marg. 'Tis true, I have, for to presence my credit ; Yet not so much for that as for my state", ladies ; Conceive me right, there lies the main o' the question : Credit 1 can redeem, money mtU imp it" ; But when my money 's gone, when the law shall seize that. And for incontinency strip me of all
First Lady. Do you find your body so malicious that way?
Marg. I find it as all bodies are that are yomig and lusty, Lazy, and high-fed ; I desire my pleasm'e. And pleasure I must have.
Sec. Lady. 'Tis fit you should have ; Y^om' years require it, and 'tis necessary,
t two old Ladies] Both the 4to and the second folio " tico Ladies'' : but they ta'e evidently two of the tlu'ee ancient dames who have previously appeai-ed in act i. sc. 4.
" state] i. e. estate.
^ imp it] i. e. i-epaii' it. A term in falconry, which has frequently occm'rcd before, — vol. i. 191, vol. viii. 8, &c.
412 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act ii.
As necessary as meat to a young lady ; Sleep cannot nourish more.
First Lady. But might not all this be, and keep you single? You take away variety in marriage. The abundance of the pleasure you are barr'd then : Is ^t not abundance that you aim at ?
Marg. Yes ; Why was I made a woman ?
Sec. Lady. And every day a new ?
Marg. Why fair and young, but to use it ?
First Lady. You are still i^ the right; why would ^ you marry, then? >
Altea^. Because a husband stops all doubts in this point. And clears all passages.
Sec. Lady. What husband mean you?
Altea. A husband of an easy faith, a fool, Made by her wealth, and moulded to her pleasure ; One, though he see himself become a monster, Shall hold the door, and entertain the maker.
Sec. Lady. You grant there may be such a man ?
First Lady. Yes, marry ; But how to bring ^em to this rare perfection ?
Sec. Lady. They must be chosen so ; things of no honour. Nor outward honesty.
Marg. No, ^tis no matter; I care not what they are, so they be lusty.
Sec. Lady. Methinks now, a rich lawyer; some such fellow. That carries credit and a face of awe, But lies with nothing but his clients' business.
Marg. No, there 's no trusting them ; they are too subtle; The law has moulded 'em of natural mischief.
First Lady. Then some grave governor. Some man of honour, yet an easy man.
"^ ivould] Silently altered to "should" by the Editors of 1778 ; and so Weber.
" A Ilea} In the 4to, throughout tliis scene, and occasionally afterwards, the prefix to Altea's speeches is "4", i. e., as Weber saw, the foui-th woman, — Margarita and the two old Ladies being the other three : Seward and the Editors of 1778 misunderstood it.
SCENE I.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 413
Marg. If he have honour, I am undone ; I '11 none such : I '11 have a lusty man ; honour will cloy me.
Altea. ^Tis fit you should, lady ; And to that end, with search, and wit, and labour, I have found one out, a right one and a perfect ; He is made as strong as brass, is of brave years too, And doughty of complexion.
Marg. Is he a gentleman?
Altea. Yes, and a soldier ; as gentle as you would wish him; A good fellow, wears good clothes.
Marg. Those I '11 allow him ; They are for my credit. Does he understand But little?
Altea. Veiy little.
Marg. 'Tis the better. Have not the wars bred him up to anger ?
Altea. No; He will not quarrel with a dog that bites him ; Let him be drunk or sober, he's one silence.
Marg. H'as no capacity what honour is ? For that 's the soldier's god.
Altea. Honour 's a thing too subtle for his wisdom ; If honour lie in eating, he is right honourable.
Marg. Is he so goodly a man, do you say?
Altea. As you shall see, lady ; But, to all this, he 's but a trunk.
Marg. I would have him so ; I shall add branches to him to adorn him. Go, find me out this man, and let me see him ; If he be that motion >' that you tell me of, And make no more noise, I shall entertain him : Let him be here.
Altea. He shall attend your ladyship. [Exeunt.
^ motion"] "i. e. puppet." Reed.
414 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act "•
SCENE U.—Seville.—A street.
Enter Juan, Alonzo, and Perez.
Juan. Why, thou art not married indeed ?
Perez. No, no ; pray, think so : Alas, I am a fellow of no reckoning, Not worth a lady's eye !
Alon. Wouldst thou steal a fortune. And make none of all thy friends acquainted with it, Nor bid us to thy wedding ?
Perez. No, indeed; There was no wisdom in 't, to bid an artist. An old seducer, to a female banquet : I can cut up my pie without your instructions.
Juan. Was it the wench i' the veil ?
Perez. Basta^; 'twas she; The prettiest rogue that e'er you look'd upon. The loving' st thief !
Juan. And is she rich withal too ?
Perez. A mine, a mine ; there is no end of wealth, colonel : I am an ass, a bashful fool ! Prithee, colonel, How do thy companies fill now?
Juan. You are merry, sir ; You intend a safer war at home, belike now ?
Perez. I do not think I shall fight much this year, colonel; I find myself given to my ease a Httle : I care not if I sell my foolish company ; They are things of hazard.
Alon. How it angers me. This fellow at first sight should win a lady, A rich young wench ; and I, that have consum'd My time and art in searching out their subtleties. Like a fool'd alchemist, blow up my hopes still ! — [Aside. When shall we come to thy house and be freely merry ?
^ JBasta] i. e. enough (as frequently before, vol. iii. 526, &c.) The word is both Italian and Spanish ; here, of course, the latter. (In vol. vii. 248, vol. viii. 46, 474, where the speakers are Spaniards, I have, by an oversight, merely explained the word with a reference to earlier notes, in which it is men- tioned as being Italian.)— Both the old eds. " Basto ".
SCENE u] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 416
Perez. When I have raanag'cl her a httle more : I have a house to entertain an army.
Alon. If thy wife be fair, thon wilt have few less come to thee.
Pei'ez. But where they '11 get entertainment is the point, signior ; I beat no drum.
Alon. You need none but her tabor.
Perez^. May be I '11 march, after a month or two, To get me a fresh stomach. I find, colonel, A wantonness in wealth, methinks I agree not with ; 'Tis such a trouble to be married too. And have a thousand things of great importance. Jewels, and plate ^\ and fooleries, molest me ; To have a man's brains whimsied with his wealth ! Before, I walk'd contentedly.
Enter Servant.
Serv. My mistress, sir, is sick, because you are absent ; She mourns, and will not eat.
Perez. Alas, my jewel ! — Come, I '11 go with thee. — Gentlemen, your fair leaves : You see I am tied a little to my yoke ; Pray, pardon me : would ye had both such losing wives !
Juan. I thank you [Exeunt Perez and Serv.
For your old boots ! — Never be blank, Alonzo, Because this fellow has outstript thy fortune : Tell me ten days hence what he is, and how The gracious state of matrimony stands with him. Come, let's to dinner. When Margarita comes. We '11 ^isit, both ; it may be then your fortune. [Exeunt.
* Perez] Omitted in both the old eds.
•* plate] Both the old eds. "plates"; and so the modem editors. "Mr, Mason, "says Weber, " proposes to read 'plate,' but the text [' plates '] is con-ect according to the phraseology of the age ": and Nares in his Gloss., as erroneously, cites the present passage with the reading " plates ", under " Plate. A piece of silver money". Compare act i. sc. 6, " Is all that plate yoiu' ow-n ?" ; act iii. sc. 1, " And new plate bought, new jewels, to give lustre" ; act iii. sc. 4, " No p>late ", &c. ; act iii. sc. 5, " The hangings and the plate too \ " ; act iv. sc. 1 ,. " No plate", &c. ; and act iv. sc. 3, "my plate, and jewels", "the hangings, plaie, and jewels", " I shall take view o' the plate anon."
416 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act ii.
SCENE III. — The Country. — An apartment in the house of Margarita.
Enter Margarita, two old Ladies'^, and Altea.
Marg. Is he come ?
Altea. Yes^ madam ; h^as been here this half hour. I have question^ him of all that you can ask him, And find him as fit as you had made the man : He will make the goodliest shadow for iniquity !
Marg. Have ye searched liim, ladies ?
Ladies. He 's a man at all points, A likely man.
Marg. Call him in, Altea.
Altea brings in Leon. A man of a good presence '' ! — Pray you, come this way — Of a lusty body ! — Is his mind so tame ?
Altea. Pray you, question him ; and, if you find him not Fit for your purpose, shake him oft'; there's no harm done.
Marg. Can you love a young lady ? — How he blushes !
Altea. Leave twirling of your hat, and hold your head up. And speak to the lady.
Leon. Yes, I think I can; 1 must be taught ; I know not what it means, madam.
Marg. You shall be taught. And can you, when she pleases. Go ride abroad, and stay a week or two ? You shall have men and horses to attend you. And money in your purse.
Leon. Yes, I love riding ; And, when I am from home, I am so merry !
Marg. Be as merry as jou will. Can you as handsomely. When you are sent for back, come with obedience, And do your duty to the lady loves you ?
Leon. Yes, sure, I shall.
"= two old Ladies'^ The 4to " the Ladies ", the sec. folio " Ladies" : but see note, p. 411. There are only two ; for in the 4to the prefix to Altea's speeches through- out this scene is " 4 " : see note, p. 412.
■' presence} i. e. demeanour.
SCENE III. 1 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 417
Mary. And when you see her friends here. Or noble kinsmen, can you entertain Their servants in the cellar, and be busied. And hold your peace, whatever you see or hear of?
Leon. 'Twere fit I were hanged else.
Marg. Let me try your kisses. — How the fool shakes! — I Avill not eat you, sir. — \_Kisses him. Beshrew my heart, he kisses wondrous manly ! — Can you do any thing else ?
Leon. Indeed, I know not ; But, if your ladyship will please to instruct me, Sure I shall learn.
Marg. You shall, then, be instructed. If I should be this lady that affects you. Nay, say I many you
Altea. Hark to the lady.
Marg. ^Vhat money have you?
Leon. None, madam, nor friends. I would do any thing to serve your ladyship.
Marg. You must not look to be my master, sir. Nor talk i^ \h' house as though you wore the breeches ; No, nor command in any thing.
Leon. I will not ; Alas, I am not able ! I have no wit, madam.
Marg. Nor do not laboiu' to arrive at any ; 'Twill spoil your head. I take you upon charity, And hke a servant you must be unto me : As I behold your duty, I shall love you. And, as you observe me, I may chance lie with you. Can you mark these ?
Leon. Yes, indeed, forsooth.
Marg. There is one thing That if I take you in, I put you from me. Utterly from me ; you must not be saucy. No, nor at any time familiar with me ; Scarce know me when I call you not.
Leon. I will not : Alas, I never knew myself sufficiently !
Marg. Nor must not now.
VOL. IX. E E
418 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act ii.
Leon. I ^11 be a dog to please you.
Marg. Indeed, you must fetch and carry as I appoint you.
Leon. I were to blame else.
Marg. Kiss me again. — A strong fellow ! There is a vigour in his lips. — If you see me Kiss any other, twenty in an hour, sir. You miist not start, nor be offended.
Leon. No, If you kiss a thousand I shall be contented ; It wiU the better teach me how to please you.
Altea. I told you, madam.
Marg. 'Tis the man I wish'd for. — The less you speak
Leon. I '11 never speak again, madam. But when you charge me ; then I '11 speak softly too.
Marg. Get me a priest ; I '11 wed him instantly. — But, when you are married, sir, you must wait upon me. And see you observe my laws.-
Leon. Else you shall hang me.
Marg. I '11 give you better clothes when you deserve 'em. — Come in, and serve for witnesses.
Altea and Ladies. We shall, madam.
Marg. And then away to the city presently ; I '11 to my new house and new company.
[_Exit with Ladies.
Leon. A thousand crowns are thine, an'^ I am a made man.
Altea. Do not break out too soon.
Leon. I know my time, wench. [Exeunt.
d an\ The 4to " &." ; the sec. folio « and " (the old spelling of " an "), which is given by the Editors of 1 778 and Weber, who put a semicolon before it. Symp- son silently omitted it. Leon means, of course, — A thousand crowns shall be yours for having assisted me, if I make my fortune by this trick.
SCENE IV.] HULK A WIFE AND llAVK A WIKK. 41!)
SCENE IV. — Seville. — A hall in the house of Margarita.
Enter Clara and Estefania.
Clara. AVhatj have jou caught him ?
Estef. Yes.
Clara. And do you find him A man of those hopes tliat you aimM at ?
Estef. Yes^ too; And the most kind man, and the ablest also To give a wife content : he is sound as old wine, And, to his soundness, rises on the palate ; And there 's the man ! 1 find him rich too, Clara.
Clara. Hast thou married him ?
Estef What, dost thou think I fish without a bait, wench? I bob for fools : he is mine own, I have him : I told thee what would tickle him Uke a trout ; And as I cast it, so I caught him daintily, And all he has T have stow'd at my devotion.
Clara. Does thy lady know this ? she is coming now to town, Now to live here in this house.
Estef. Let her come ; She shall be welcome, I am prepar'd for her ; She is mad, sure, if she be angry at my fortune. For what I have made bold.
Clara. Dost thou not love him ?
Estef. Yes, entirely well, As long as there he stays, and looks no farther Into my ends ; but, when he doubts, I hate him. And that wise hate will teach me how to cozen him. [A lady-tamer he, and reads men warnings] ^ How to decHne^ theii* wives, and cm'b their manners,
' [A lady-tamer he, and reads men 7varnings} Added by Sewai'd,— something being evidently wanting here.
' decline] "i. e. lower, or subdue." Mason.
E E 2
420 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act ii.
To put a stern and strong rein to their natures ; And holds he is an ass not worth acquaintance. That cannot mould a devil to obedience. I owe him a good turn for these opinions, And, as I find his temper, I may pay him. Oh, here he is ; now you shall see a kind man.
Enter Perez.
Perez. My Estefania ! shall we to dinner, lamb ? I know thou stay'st for me. Estef. I cannot eat else.
Perez. I never enter, but methinks a paradise Appears about me.
Estef. You are welcome to it, sir.
Perez. I think I have the sweetest seat in Spain, wench ; Methinks the richest too. We '11 eat i' the garden. In one o' tli' arbours, (there 'tis cool and pleasant,) And have our wine cool'd in the running fountain. — Wlio'sthat?
Estef. A friend of mine, sir.
Perez. Of what breeding ?
Estef. A gentlewoman, sir.
Perez. What business has she ? Is she a learned woman i' the mathematics ? Can she tell fortunes ?
Estef More than I know, sir.
Perez. Or has she e'er a letter from a kinswoman. That must be deliver'd in my absence, wife ? Or comes she from the doctor to salute you. And learn your health ? She looks not like a confessor.
Estef. What need all this ? why are you troubled, sir ? What do you suspect ? she cannot cuckold you ; She is a woman, sir, a very woman.
Perez. Your very woman may do very well, sir§. Toward the matter ; for, though she cannot perform it In her own person, she may do it by proxy : Your rarest jugglers work still by conspiracy.
s OTr] Though Perez is here echoing his wife, yet the word sir (as various pas- sages m these plays have already shown) was frequently employed in addi-essing females.
SCENE IV.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A Wli'E. 421
Estef. Cry you mercy, husband ! you arc jealous, then, And happily suspect me ?
Perez. No, iudccd, Avife.
Estef. Methinks you should not till you have more cause, And clearer too. I am sure you have heard say, husband, A woman forc'd will free herself tlu'ough iron ; A happy, calm, and good wife, discontented. May be taught tricks.
Perez. No, no; I do but jest Avitli you.
Estef. To-morrow, friend, 1^11 see you.
Clara. I shall leave jou Till then, and pray all may go sweetly with you.
[Exit. Knocking ivithin.
Estef. Why, where ^s this girl ? Who ^s at the door ?
Perez. Who knocks there ? Is 't for the king you come, you knock so boisterously ? Look to the door.
Enter Maid.
Maid. [Aside to Estef,] My lady, as I live, mistress ! my lady's come ! She 's at the door; I peep'd through, and I'' saw her. And a stately company of ladies with her. [Exit.
Estef. This was a week too soon; but I must meet with her, And set a new wheel going, and a subtle one. Must bUnd this mighty Mars, or I am ruin'd. [Aside.
Perez. What ai'e they at door ?
Estef. Such, my Michael, As }^ou may bless the day they enter'd here ; Such for oui' good.
Perez. ^Tis well.
Estef. Nay, 'twill be better, If you -will let me but dispose the business. And be a stranger to it, and not distiu'b me : What have I now to do but to advance jowr fortune ?
Perez. Do; I dare trust thee. I am asham'd I was' angry; I find thee a -svise young wife.
^ I] Silently omitted by Weber.
■' was] So Seward silently. — Both the old eds. "am ;" and so the Editors of 1778 and Weber: but it is evidently a mistake occasioned by the occuiTence of the word just before.
422 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act ii.
Estef. I ^11 wise your worship Before I leave you [Aside]. — Pray you^ walk by, and say
nothing, Only salute them, and leave the rest to me, sir : I was bom to make you a man. [EwitK
Perez. The rogue speaks heartily ; Her good- will colours in her cheeks ; I am born to love her. I must be gentler to these tender natm'es ; A soldier's rude harsh words befit not ladies. Nor must we talk to them as we talk to our officers. I '11 give her way, for 'tis for me she works now ; I am husband, heir, and all she has.
Enter Margarita, Leon, Altea, Estefania, and Ladies.
Who are these 'i What flaunting things ? A woman of rare presence M Excellent fair ! This is too big for a bawdy-house, Too open-seated too. [Aside.
Estef. My husband, lady.
Mary. You have gain'd a proper man.
Perez. Whatever I am, I am your servant, lady. [Kisses her.
Estef. [Aside to Perez] Sir, be rul'd now, and I shall make you rich : This is my cousin ; that gentleman dotes on her. Even to death; see, how he observes' her !
Perez. She is a goodly woman.
Estef. She is a mirror ; But she is poor ; she were for a prince's side else. This house she has brought him to, as to her own. And presuming upon me and upon my courtesy, — Conceive me short, — he knows not but she is Avealthy ; Or, if he did know otherwise, 'twere all one. He is so far gone.
Perez. Forward. She has a rare face.
J Exit'\ 1 may just observe that this stage-direction is wanting in the old eds., which, however, mark presently the entrance of Estefania with Margarita, &c. ■" presence} See note, p. 416. ' observes'] i. e. treats with obsequious attention.
SCENE IV.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 422
Estef. This we must carrj^ with discretion, husband, And jdeld unto her for four days.
Perez. Yield oiu' house up, Our goods, and wealth !
Estef. All this is but in seeming, To milk the lover on. Do you see this writing?
[^Sheivs a paper. Two hundred pound a-year, when they are married. Has she seal'd to for our good. The time 's unfit now ; I ^11 shew it you to-morrow.
Perez. All the house ?
Estef. All, all ; and we '11 remoA'e too, to confirm him : They '11 into the country suddenly again After they are matched, and then she '11 open to him.
Perez. The Avholc possession, wife ? Look what you do. A part o' th' house
Estef. No, no, they shall have all. And take their pleasm'e too ; 'tis for our 'vantage. Why, what 's four days ? had you a sister, sir, A niece or mistress, that requir'd this courtesy. And should I make a scruple to do you good?
Perez. If easily it would come back
Estef. I swear, sir. As easily as it came on. Is it not pity To let such a gentlewoman for a little help™? You give away no house.
Perez. Clear but that question.
Estef. I '11 put the writings into youi' hand.
Perez. Well, then.
Estef. And you shall keep them safe.
Perez. I am satisfied. Would I had the wench so too !
Estef. When she has married him. So infinite his love is link'd unto her, You, I, or any one that helps at this pinch. May have Heaven knows what.
"' To let such a ijcnllcwonian for a little lulp] " i. e. to olstriut or hinder the advancement of such a lady, for want of some httlc assistance."' L\l. 177!t.
424 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
Perez. I '11 remove the goods straight. And take some poor house by ; 'tis but for four days.
Estef. I have a poor old friend ; there we '11 be.
Perez. 'Tis well, then.
Estef. Go handsome oflf, and leave the house clear.
Perez. Well.
Estef. That Uttle stuflF we '11 use shall foUow after. And a boy to guide you. Peace, and we are made both.
\_Exit Perez.
Mary. Come, let 's go in. Ai'e all the rooms kept sweet, wench ?
Estef. They are sweet and neat.
Marg. Why, where 's your husband?
Estef Gone, madam. When you come to your own, he must give place, lady.
Marg. Well, send you joy ! You would not let me know 't ; Yet I shall not forget you.
Estef. Thank your ladyship ! [Exeunt.
I
ACT III.
SCENE I. — Seville. — A hall in the house of Margarita.
Enter Margarita, Altea, and Boy, Altea. Are you at ease now? is your heart at rest. Now you have got a shadow, an umbrella. To keep the scorching world's opinion From your fair credit ?
Marg. I am at peace, Altea : If he continue but the same he shews. And be a master of that ignorance He outwardly professes, I am happy : The pleasure I shall live in, and the freedom. Without the squint-eye of the law upon me. Or prating liberty of tongues that envy ! Altea. You are a made woman.
SCENE I.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 425
Mary. But, if he should prove now A crafty and dissembUng kind of husband. One read in knavery, and brought up in the art Of villany conceal'd ?
Altea. My life, an innocent ">.
Marg. That 's it I aim at, That ^s it I hope too ; then I am siu'e I rule him ; For innocents are like obedient children Brought up under a hard mother-in-law, a cruel. Who, being not us'd to breakfasts and collations. When they have coarse bread offered 'em, are thankful. And take it for a favour too. Are the rooms Made ready to entertain my friends ? I long to dance
now. And to be wanton. Let me have a song. \_Song by the Boy". Is the great couch up the Duke of Medina sent ?
Altea. 'Tis up and ready.
Marg. And day-beds" in all chambers?
Altea. In all, lady ; Your house is nothing now but various pleasures ; The gallants begin to gaze too.
Marg. Let 'em gaze on ; I was brought up a courtier, high and happy. And company is my delight, and courtship. And handsome servants p at my will. Where's my good
husband ? "Where does he wait ?
Altea. He knows his distance, madam ; I warrant you, he is busy in the cellar Amongst his fellow- servants, or asleep. Till your command awake him.
Marg. 'Tis well, Altea ; It should be so; my ward I must preserve him"?.
" cm irmocent] " i. e. a natural fool, an idiot." Weber.
" Son^ by the Boy] The old. have no stage-direction here ; nor do the modem editors add any. But nothing can be plainer than that the Boy is introduced in this scene merely for the purpose of singing a song.
"■ (lay-beds] See note, p. 40.9.
p seirants] " i. e. lovers." Weber. See note, vol. i. 213.
' my ward I must presei've him] See note, vol. iv. i)6.
426 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
Enter Leon and Servant. Who sent for him ? how dare he come uncall'd for ? His bonnet on too !
Altea. Sure^ he sees you not.
Marg. How scornfully he looks !
Leon. Are aU the chambers Decked and adorn'd thus for my lady's pleasure ? New hangings every hour for entertainment. And new plate bought, new jewels, to give lustre ?
Serv. They are, and yet there must be more and richer ; It is her will.
Leon. Hum — is it so ? 'tis excellent. It is her will too, to have feasts and banquets, Hevels and masques ?
Serv. She ever lov'd 'em dearly. And we shall have the bravest house kept now, sir ! I must not call you master (she has warn'd me). Nor must not put my hat off to you.
Leon. 'Tis no fashion ; What though I be her husband, I am your feUow. I may cut first "^ ?
Serv. That 's as you shall deserve, sir.
Leon. And, when I lie with her
Serv. May be I '11 Ught you ; On the same point you may do me that service. [Exit.
Enter a Lady. Lady. Madam, the Duke Medina, with some captains. Will come to dinner, and have sent rare wine. And their best services.
Marg. They shall be welcome. See all be ready in the noblest fashion. The house perfum'd. [Exit Lady.'] Now I shall take my
pleasure. And not my neighbour Justice maunder « at me. —
■■ / may cutfirsf] « i. e. I may be allowed to carve first at the servants' table." Weber.
s maunderl i. e. mutter, grumble (properly applied to beggars who nmtter or whine out supplications for charity : sec a passage in vol. i. 181, and p. 30 of tlie present vol.).
scKNE 1.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 427
Go, get your best clothes on ; ])ut, till I call you,
Be sure you be not seen : dine with the gentlewomen,
And behave yourself cleanly, su'; 'tis for my credit.
Enter a Second Lady.
Sec. Lady. Madam, the Lady Julia
Leon. That 's a bawd, A three-pil'd bawd f, bawd-major to the army. [Aside.
Sec. Lady. Has brought her coach to wait upon yom* lady- ship. And to be informed if you wiU take the air this morning.
Leon. The neat air of her nunnery. \_Aside.
Marg. Tell her, no ; V th' afternoon I '11 call on her.
Sec. Lady. I will, madam. [Exit.
Marg. Why are not you gone to prepare yourself? May be you shall be sewer to the fii'st course, — A portly presence ! — Altea, he looks lean ; 'Tis a wash " knave, he will not keep his flesh well.
Altea. A willing, madam, one that needs no spurring.
Leon. Faith, madam, in my little understanding. You had better entertain your honest neighbours, Your friends about you, that may speak well of you. And give a worthy mention of jouv bounty.
Marg. How now ! what 's this ?
Leon. 'Tis only to persuade you : Courtiers are but tickle things to deal withal, A kind of marchpane men '', that will not last, madam ; An egg and pepper goes farther than their potions, And in a well-built body a poor parsnip Will play his prize " above their strong potabiles.
Marg. The fellow 's mad !
Leon. He that shall counsel ladies That have both liquorish and ambitious eyes. Is either mad or drunk, let him speak gospel.
» A three-pil'd laivd] Equivalent to — a bawd of the most perfect skill in her vocation. See note, vol. i. 296.
" wash] i. e. washy : as before, vol. v. fiJi. " marchpane mm] See note, vol. iv. 186. " P^^y ^'* prize] See note, vol. vi. 529.
428 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
Altea. He breaks out modestly. [Aside.
Leon. Pray you, be not angry ; My indiscretion has made bold to tell you What you ^11 find true.
Marg. Thou dar^st not talk ?
Leon. Not much, madam : You have a tie upon your servant^ s tongue ; He dares not be so bold as reason bids him : ^Twere fit there were a stronger on your temper. Ne'er look so stern upon me ; I am your husband : But what are husbands ? read the New World's wonders. And you will scarce find such deformities. Such husbands as this monstrous world produces ^' ; They are shadows to conceal your venial wtues. Sails to your mills, that grind with all occasions. Balls that lie by you, to wash out your stains. And bills nail'd up with horns ^ before your stories. To rent out lust ^.
Mary. Do you hear him talk ?
Leon. I have done, madam : An ox once spoke, as learned men deliver ; Shortly I shall be such ; then I '11 speak wonders : Till when, I tie myself to my obedience. [Exit.
Marg. First, I '11 untie myself ! Did you mark the gen- tleman. How boldly and how saucily he talk'd. And how unlike the lump I took him for. The piece of ignorant dough ? he stood up to me. And mated =* my commands ! This was your providence,
" read the New World's tvonders,
And you will scarce find such deformities,
Such husbands as this momtrous world produces'] Both the old eds. thus ; " read the new worlds wonders, Such husbands as this monstrous world produces, And you will scarce find such deformities," —
and so the modem editors. Mason saw that the last two lines should be transposed.
y horns'] The 4to « home ". The second folio " horn ".
== lust] Both the old eds. " last."
» mated] "i. e. opposed [as my match, or equal]." Ed. 1778.
sceSe I] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 429
Your wisdom, to elect this gentleman,
Your excellent forecast in the man, yoiu' knowledge !
What think you now ?
Altea. I think him an ass still : This boldness some of your people have blown into him, Tliis -svisdom too, vaih. strong wine ; ^tis a tyrant, And a philosopher also, and finds out reasons,
Marg. I ^11 have my cellar lock'd, no school kept there, Nor no discovery : I ^11 turn my drunkards. Such as are understanding in their di'aughts. And dispute learnedly the ivhys and wherefores, To grass immediately : I '11 keep all fools. Sober or di'unk, still fools, that shall know nothing. Nothing belongs to mankind, but obedience ; And such a hand I '11 keep over this husband !
Altea. He will fall again ; my life, he cries by this time : Keep him from drink; he has a high constitution.
'Re-enter Leon.
Leon. Shall I wear my new suit, madam ?
Marg. No, your old clothes ; And get you into the country presently. And see my hawks well train'd : you shall have victuals, Such as are fit for saucy palates, sir. And lodgings with the hinds ; it is too good too.
Altea. Good madam, be not so rough with repentance •' : You see now he 's come round again.
Marg. I see not What I expect to see.
Leon. You shall see, madam. If it shall please youi- ladyship.
Altea. He 's humbled ; Forgive, good lady.
Marg. Well, go get you handsome, And let me hear no more.
Leon. Have you yet no feehng? I '11 pinch you to the bones, then, my proud lady !
[Aside, and then exit.
^ Good madam, he -not so rour/h with repentance] " This line Mr. Sewai-d gives to Leon very absui'dly." Weber.
430 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
Marg. See you preserve him thus^ upon my favour ; You know his temper, tie him to the grindstone. The next rebellion I ^11 be rid of him : I ^11 have no needy rascals I tie to me Dispute my life. Come in, and see all handsome.
Altea. I hope to see you so too ; I have wrought ill else.
[Aside. Exeunt.
f
SCENE II. — A. room in a mean house.
Enter Perez.
Perez. Shall I never return to mine own house again ? We are lodg'd here in the miserablest dog-hole ! A conjuror's circle gives content above it ; A hawk's mew is a princely palace to it : We have a bed no bigger than a basket, And there we lie like butter clapt together, And sweat ourselves to sauce immediatel3^ The fumes are infinite inhabit here too. And to that so thick, they cut like marmalet ; So various too, they '11 pose a gold-finder. Never return to mine own paradise ? — Why, wife, I say ! why, Estefania !
Estef. [within'] I am going presently.
Perez. Make haste, good jewel ! I am like the people that live in the Sweet Islands ^ : I die, I die, if I stay but one day more here ; My lungs are rotten with the damps that rise. And I cough nothing now but stinks of all sorts. The inhabitants we have are two starv'd rats (For they are not able to maintain a cat here). And those appear as fearful '' as two devils ; They have eat a map of the whole world up already,
<^ the Sweet Islands] " i. e. the Sugar-islands, Barbadoes, St. Kitts, &c., the heat and unwholesomeness of which, at particular seasons, is well known. Mr. Theobald, not seeing this, I'eads ' sweat isla/nds.' " Seward.
^ fearful] i. e. dreadful, terrible.
SCENE 11] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 431
And_, if we tetay a night, we are gone for company. There 's an old woman that ^s now grown to marble, Dried in this brick-kiln*', and she sits i' the chimney (Which is but three tiles, rais'd like a house of cards) The true proportion of an old smokM sibyl ; There is a yoimg thing too, that nature meant For a maid-servant, but ^tis now a monster ; She has a husk about her like a chesnut With laziness '', and li^dng under the line here ; And these two make a hollow sound together. Like frogs, or winds between two doors that murmur. Mercy dehver me !
Enter Estefania. Oh, are you come, wife ? Shall we be free again ?
Estef. I am now going. And you shall presentl}^ to your own house, sir : The remembrance of this small vexation Will ])e argument ^ of mirth for ever. By that time you have said your orisons. And broke your fast, I shall be back, and ready To usher you to yoiu* old content, your freedom.
Perez. Break my neck rather : is there any thing here to eat But one another, Hke a race of cannibals ? A j)iece of butterM wall you think is excellent. Let ^s have our house again immediately ; And, pray you, take heed unto the fiu'niture. None be embezzled.
Estef. Not a pin, I warrant you.
Perez. And let ^em instantly depart.
Estef. They shall both, (There 's reason in all conrtesies,) they must both. For by this time I know she has acquainted him. And has provided too ; she sent me word, sir, And will give over gratefully unto you.
d Jynck-Tciln] Both the old eds. " brick hill."
* laziness'^ The 4 to " bassiiiesse ". The second folio " basiness ".
' he argument} Seward silently printed " be an argument ".
432 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. . [act ii.
Perez. 1^11 walk i' the cliurch-yard ; The dead cannot offend more than these living. An hour hence I ^11 expect yon.
Estef. I '11 not fail^ sir.
Perez. And, do you hear, let 's have a handsome dinner ; And see all 'things be decent as they have been; And let me have a strong bath to restore me, I stink like a stale fish- shambles, or an oil-shop ?.
Estef. You shall have all — which some interpret nothing. —
[Aside. I '11 send you people for the trunks aforehand, And for the stuff.
Perez. Let 'em be known and honest ; And do my service to your niece.
Estef. I shall, sir : But, if I come not at my hour, come thither. That they may give you thanks for your fair courtesy. And, pray you, be brave '', for my sake.
Perez. I observe you. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III.— ^ street.
Enter Juan, Sanchio, and Cacafogo. Sane. Thou art very brave. Cac. I have reason -, I have money. Sane. Is money reason ? Cac. Yes, and rhyme too, captain : If you have no money, you 're an ass.
« I stink like a stale fish-shambles, or an oil-sho})] Both the old eds. have "I stink like a stall-fish shambles, or art oile shop." — Seward pi-inted " / stink like a stale- fish shambles, or an oil-shop." — The Editors of 1778 gave " I stink like a stall- fish, shambles, or an oil-shop ", — i. e., they say, " I smell as strong as a fish-stall, a butcher's shambles, or an oil-shop." Weber retained their punctuation, explaining, however, " stall-fish " to mean — " a fish wliich has long lain upon a stall for show, and has not been kept fresh in water."
'' brave"] "i.e. well-dressed; a request peculiarly humorous ; Estefania having pillaged Perez's trunks, and left him but that ' one civil suit ' which was upon his back. /. iV." Ed. 1778.
SCENE rn.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 433
Sane. I thank you.
Cac. You have manners ; ever thank him that has money.
Sane. Wilt thou lend me any ?
Cae. Not a farthing, captain ; Captains are casual things.
Sane. Vfhj, so are all men : Thou shalt have my bond.
Cae. Nor bonds nor fetters^ captain : My money is mine own ; I make no doubt on 't.
Juan. WTiat dost thou do with it '?
Cac. Put it to pious uses, Buy wine and wenches, and undo young coxcombs That would undo me.
Juan. Are those hospitals ?
Cac. I fii'st pro^'ide to fill my hospitals With creatiu'es of mine own, that I know Avretched, And then I build ; those are more bound to pray for me : Besides, I keep th' inheritance in my name still.
Juan. A pro\'ident cliarity ! Are you for the wars, sir ?
Cac. I am not poor enough to be a soldier. Nor have I faith enough to ward ' a bullet : This is no lining for a trench, I take it.
Juan. You have said wisely.
Cac. Had you but my money. You would swear it, colonel : I had rather drill at home A hundred thousand crowns, and with more honour. Than exercise ten thousand fools with nothing : A wise man safely feeds, fools cut their fingers.
Sane. A right state-usui'er ! Why dost thou not marry. And hve a reverend justice ?
Cac. Is 't not nobler To command a reverend justice, than to be one ? And for a wife, what need I marry, captain. When every coui'teous fool that owes me money. Owes me his Avife too, to appease my fuiy V
Juan. Wilt thou go to dinner with us ?
Cac. I will go,
« wanl'\ " i. e. ward off." Weiseii. VOL. IX. F r
434 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
And view the pearl of Spain^ the orient fair oneJ,
The rich one too ; and I will be respected ;
I bear my patent here : I wiU talk to her ;
And, when your captainships shall stand aloof
And pick your noses, I will pick the purse |
Of her affection.
Juan. The Duke dines there to-day too. The Duke of Medina.
Cac. Let the king dine there ; He owes me money, and so far 's my creature ; And certainly I may make bold with mine own, captain.
^anc. Thou wilt eat monstrously.
Cac. Like a true-born Spaniard ; Eat as I were in England, where the beef grows : -
And I will drink abundantly, and then ■
Talk ye as wantonly as Ovid did. To stir the intellectuals of the ladies ; I learnt it of my father's amorous scrivener.
Juan. If we should play now, you must supply me.
Cac. You must pawn a horse-troop. And then have at you, colonel !
^anc. Come, let's go. — This rascal will make rare sport : how the ladies Will laugh at him ! Leave anger '\
Juan. If I light on him, I '11 make his purse sweat too.
Cac. Will ye lead, gentlemen ? \Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — Another street; before a mean house. Enter Perez, an Old Woman, and Maid.
Perez. Nay, pray you, come out, and let me understand you; And tune your pipe a little higher, lady :
i the pearl of Spain, the orient fair onel^ See note, p. 403. ^ Leave anger} The 4to " leave ager". — Omitted in the second folio ; and by Seward and the Editors of 1778.
^^CENE IV.] RULE A WIFE AM) HAVE A WIFE. 435
I'll hold you fast. Rub ! how came my trunks open ? And my goods gone ? what pick-lock spiiit
Old Worn. Ha ! what would you have ?
Perez. My goods again : how came my trunks all open ?
Old Worn. Arc your trunks open ?
Perez. Yes, and [my] clothes gone, And chains, and jewels. — How she smells, like hung beef ! — The palsy and pick locks ! fie, how she belches ! The spii'it of garhc ! [Aside.
Old Worn. Where *s yom* gentlewoman ? The young fail' woman ?
Perez. "What 's that to my question ? She is my w4fe, and gone about my business.
Maid. Is she your wife, su* ?
Perez. Yes, sir'; is that wonder? Is the name of wife unknown here ?
Old Worn. Is she truly, Truly your wife ?
Perez. I think so, for I married her ; It was no vision, sure.
Maid. She has the keys, sir.
Perez. I know she has ; but who has all my goods, spirit ?
Old Worn. If you be married to that gentlewoman. You are a wretched man; she has twenty husbands.
Maid. She tells you true.
Old Worn. And she has cozen'd all, sir.
Perez. The de^^l she has ! — I had a fair house with her. That stands hard by, and furnish' d royally.
Old Worn. You are cozen' d too ; 'tis none of hers, good gentleman'"; It is a lady's. — What's the lady's name, wench?
Maid. The Lady Margarita : she was her servant. And kept the house, but going from her, sir. For some lewd tricks she play'd —
1 sir] See note, p. 420.
"" His none of hers, good gentleman] "Mr. Seward chooses to read 'good gentlewoman'." Ed. 1778. Seward, — (who compares what the same speaker says presently, " She may go bare, good gaUk'tvoman" p. 43(J), — was probably right : it must be observed, howevei', that the Old Woman calls Perez " gentle- man" .at p. 437.
r I' 2
436 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act in.
Perez. Plague o' the devil ! Am I, i' the full meridian of my wisdom. Cheated by a stale quean? [Aside.'] — What kind of lady Is that that owes " the house ?
Old Worn. A young sweet lady.
Perez. Of a low statiu-e ?
Old Worn. She is indeed but little, But she is wondrous fair.
Perez. I feel I am cozen'd ; Now I am sensible I am undone ! This is the very woman, sure, that cousin. She told me would entreat but for four days To make the house hers : I am entreated " sweetly ! [Aside.
Maid. When she went out this morning, (that I saw, sir,) She had two women at the door attending, And there she gave ^em things, and loaded ^em ;
But what they were 1 heard your trunks too open.
If they be yours.
Perez. They were mine while they were laden. But now they have cast their calves, they are not worth
owning. Was she her mistress, say you?
Old Worn. Her own mistress, Her very mistress, sir, and all you saw About and in that house was hers.
Perez. No plate, No jewels, nor no hangings ?
Maid. Not a farthing ; She is poor, sir, a poor shifting thing.
Perez. No money?
Old Worn. Abominable poor, as poor as we are. Money as rare to her, unless she steal it : But for one civil p gown her lady gave her, She may go bare, good gentlewoman.
Perez. I am mad now !
awes'] i. e. owns.
entreated'] " i. e. treated, used." Weber.
civil] i. e. sober, not shewy.
SCENE IV.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 4:i7
I think I am as poor as she ; I am wide "i else :
One civil suit I have left too, and that 's all.
And, if she steal that, she must flay me for it. — [Aside.
Where does she use '?
Old Worn. You may find truth as soon : Alas, a thousand conceal'd corners, sir, she lm*ks in ! And here she gets a fleece, and there another. And lives in mists and smokes where none can find her.
Perez. Is she a whore too ?
Old Worn. Little better, gentleman j I dare not say she is so, sir, because she is yours, sir ; But these five years she has firk^d a pretty living %
Until she came to serve. 1 fear he will knock
My brains out for hnug ^ [Aside.
Perez. She has serv'd me faithfully ; A whore and thief! two excellent moral learnings In one she-saint ! I hope to see her legend. Have I been fear'd for my discoveries. And coiu'ted by all Avomen to conceal ^em ? Have I so long studied the art of this sex, And read the warnings to young gentlemen ? Have I profess'd to tame the pride of ladies, And make ^em bear all tests, and am I trick'd now ? Caught in mine own noose ? Here's a rial " left yet. — [Aside. There 's for your lodging and your meat for this week : A silk- worm lives at a more plentiful ordinary, [Gives rial.
1 mrfe] " i. e. wide of the mark." Weber.
' use'\ " i. e. fi-equent, lodge." Weber.
* firk'd a pretty limng] i. e. picked up a pretty liveliliood by all sorts of roguish ti'icks. See note, p. 379.
' /or lyin[i'] " Seward strikes out the words '/or hjiivj ', because, as he sa}s, most of the things that the old woman said were time, with a little exaggeration ; and because they destroy all appearance of measure. But no measiu"e was intended [ — in this assertion Mason is certainly wrong — ], and exaggeration is lying. Some part of the old woman's story was tiiie ; but it does not appeal* that Estefania was a whore, or had twenty husbands." Mason. " Mr. Seward had his brauis out. The humoiu* lies in Estefania's having ordered the Old Woman to tell these tales of her ; for though an intriguer, she is not repre- sented as other than chaste ; and as to the metre, it is perfectly coiTeet." Coleridge's Remains, ii. 305.
" rUd'\ Here both the old eds. "royal"; but previously (p. 410) they have "rial".
438 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
And sleeps in a sweeter box. Farewell^ great- grandmother :
If I do find you were an accessary,
(^Tis but tlie cutting off two smoky minutes)
I '11 hang you presently.
Old Worn. An I deserve it ^ . I tell but truth.
Perez. Nor^ I^ — I am an ass, mother. \_Ewit Pe RE z . Exeunt Old Woman and Maid into the house.
SCENE V. — A hall in the house 0/ Margarita.
Enter the Duke of Medina, Juan, Alonzo, Sanchio, Cacafogo, and Attendants.
Duke. A goodly house !
Juan. And richly furnished too, su".
Alon. Hung wantonly : I like that preparation ; It stirs the blood unto a hopeful banquet. And intimates the mistress free and jovial : I love a house where pleasure prepares welcome.
Duke. Now, Cacafogo, how like you this mansion ? 'Twere a brave pawn.
Cac. I shall be master of it ; 'Twas built for my bulk, the rooms are wide and spacious. Airy and full of ease, and that I love well. I '11 tell you when I taste the wine, my lord, And take the height of her table with my stomach. How my affections stand to the young lady.
Enter Margarita, Altea, Ladies, and Servants. Marg. All welcome to your grace, and to these soldiers ! You honour my poor house with your fair presence. Those few slight pleasures that inhabit here, sii', I do beseech your grace command ; they are yours ; Your servant but preserves 'em to delight you.
'' An I deserve it'\ Both the old eds. " And / deserve it " ; and so Sewai'd and the Editors of 1778. — Mason (not perceiving that "And" is merely the old sijclling of " An ") proposed to read " And I 'd deserve it " ; which was adopted hy Weber, who calls it " a cori'ection that needs no defence." — Sec note, p. 418.
'' iVor] So the 4to.— The second folio « Not ".
SCENE v.] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 433
Duke. I thank you, lady. I am bold to visit you, Once more to bless mine eyes with your sweet beauty : ^T has been a long night since you left the court, For, till I saw you now, no day broke to me.
Marg. Bring in the duke's meat !
Sane. She is most excellent.
Juan. Most admii*able fair as e'er I look'd on ; I had rather command her than my regiment.
Cac. I '11 have a fling ; 'tis but a thousand ducats, Which I can cozen up again in ten days. And some few jewels, to justify my knavery. Say I should marry her, she '11 get more money Than all my usury, put my knavery to it : She appears the most infalhble way of pm-chase ^'. I could wish her a size or two stronger for the encounter, For I am like a lion where I lay hold ; But these lambs will endure a plaguy load, And never bleat neither; that, sir, time has taught us^. I am so virtuous now, I cannot speak to her; The arrant'st shamefac'd ass ! I broil away too. [Aside.
Enter Leon.
Marg. Why, where 's this dinner ?
Leon. 'Tis not ready, madam. Nor shall not be until I know the guests too ; Nor are they faii'ly welcome till I bid 'em.
Juan. Is not this my alferez ^? he looks another thing : Are miracles afoot again ?
Marg. Why, sirrah ! AVhy, su'rah, you !
Leon. I hear you, saucy woman ;
* way of purchase] i. e. means of acfiuiring gain.
y that, sir, time has taught us] The Editors of 177S silently printed " that Sir Time has taught us"; and so Weber. — Of "sii*"and similar improprieties, occmTing in soliloquies and speeches spoken aside, I have collected examples from Shakespeare and other early dramatists in my Jicmarls on Mr. CoUiei's and Mr. Knight's editions of Shakespeare, p. 102 ; and the following passage may be added to them from Fletcher's Womaii's Prize, (act iii. sc. 2, vol. vii. 1 G2) ; it is spoken by Petruchio while solm ;
" 'Tis hai-d dealing, Very hiu*d dealing, gentlemen, sti'ange dealing I "
' alfcru] Sec note, p. 397.
440 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act ni.
And^ as you are my wife, command your absence ! And know your duty ; 'tis tlie crown of modesty.
Duke. Your wife !
Leon. Yes, good my lord, I am her husband ; And, pray, take notice that I claim that honour. And will maintain it.
Cac. If thou be'st her husband, 1
I am determin^l thou slialt be my cuckold ; ^
I '11 be thy faithful friend.
Leon. Peace, dirt and dunghill \ I will not lose my anger on a rascal ; Provoke me more, I will beat thy blown body Till thou rebound' st again like a tennis-ball.
Alon. This is miraculous.
Sane. Is this the fellow That had the patience to become a fool, A flurted fool, and on a sudden break (As if he would shew a wonder to the world) Both into braverj^, and fortune too ? I much admire the man; I am astonish'd.
Marg. I '11 be divorc'd immediately.
Leon. You shall not ; You shall not have so much will to be wicked : I am more tender of your honour, lady. And of your age. You took me for a shadow. You took me to gloss over your discredit. To be your fool ; you had thought you had found a coxcomb : I am innocent of any foul dishonour I mean to you ; Only I will be known to be your lord now, And be a fair one too, or I will fall for 't.
Marg. I do command you from me, thou poor fellow. Thou cozen'd fool !
Leon. Thou cozen'd fool ! 'tis not so ; I will not be commanded ; I am above you : You may divorce me from your favour*, lady. But from your state ^ you never shaU ; I '11 liold that. And hold it to my use ; the law allows it : And then maintain your wantonness ; I '11 wink at it. Marg. Am I brav'd thus in mine own house ? ^ state'\ "i. e, estate." Webek.
SCENE V] RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 141
Leon. 'Tis mine, madam ; You are deceivM ; I am lord of it, I rule it And all that 's in 't : you have nothing to do here, madam. But as a servant to sweep clean the lodgings, And at my farther will to do me ser\ice ; And so I '11 keep it.
Marg. As you love me, give way !
Leon. It shall be better, — I -will give none, madam": I stand upon the ground of mine own honour. And will maintain it. You shall know me now To be an understanding feeling man. And sensible of what a woman aims at, A young proud woman, that has will to sail with. An itching woman, that her blood provokes too. I cast my cloud off, and appear myself. The master of this little piece of mischief : And I will put a speU about your feet, lady ; They shall not wander but where I give way now.
Duke. Is this the fellow that the people pointed at For the mere sign of man, the w'alking image ? He speaks wondrous highly.
Leon. As a husband ought, sir. In liis own house ; and it becomes me well too. I think your grace would grieve, if you were put to it, To have a wife or servant of your own (For wives are reckou'd in the rank of servants) Under your own roof to command you.
Juan. Brave ! A strange conversion ! Thou shalt lead in chief now.
Duke. Is there no difference betwixt her and you, sir ?
Leon. Not now, [my] lord ; my fortune makes me even ; And, as I am an honest man, I am nobler.
Mary. Get me my coach !
" It shall he letter, — / will f/ive noiie, madam'] Seward printed ;
" Mar. As you love me, give way, it sliall be better
Leon. I will give none, Madam, I stand ", &c. And Mason approves of the alteration. — " Leon may very properly say, ' he will do Ijetter than give way, by opposing her'." Ed. 1778. — "The meaning is : 'It .shall be a lictter way, first ;- as it is, I will not give it, or any that you in your present mood would wish'." Colei'idge's Remains, ii. 30(i.
442 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act m.
Leon. Let me see who dare get it Till I command ; I '11 make him draw your coach too ''^ And eat your coach (which will be hard diet), That executes your will. Or, take your coach, lady ; I give 3'ou hberty ; and take your people. Which I turn off, and take your wiU abroad with you ; Take all these freely, but take me no more : And so, farewell.
Duke. Nay, sir, you shall not carry it [Draws his sivord. So bravely off; you shall not wrong a lady In a high huffing strain, and think to bear it : We stand not by as bawds to your brave furj^. To see a lady weep.
Leon. They are tears of anger, (I beseech "" ye note 'em) not worth pity. Wrung from her rage, because her will prevails not (She would swound '^ now, if she could not cry) ; Else they were excellent, and I should grieve too ; But falling thus, they shew nor sweet nor orient. Put up, my lord ; this is oppression. And calls the sword of justice to relieve me, The law to lend her hand, the king to right me ; All which shall understand how you provoke me. In mine own house to brave me ! is this princely ? Then to my guard ! and, if I spare your grace,
[Draws his sword. And do not make this place your monument, Too rich a tomb for such a rude behaviour, — I have a cause will kill a thousand of ye, — Mercy forsake me !
Juan. Hold, fair sir, I beseech you ! The gentleman but pleads his owa right nobly.
Leon. He that dares strike against the husband's freedom,
b too] Would seem to be misplaced by a mistake of the transcriber or printer ; and Seward was probably right in giving the passage as follows ; " I '11 make him draw your coach, And eat your coach too (which will be hard diet) ", &c. <: / beseech^ Seward silently printed " I do beseech ".
d swoimd\ So both the old eds.— Altered by the modern editors to " swoon " (Seward printing "e'en swoon"). See note, vol. i. 422.
SCENE v.l RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 443
The husband's ciu'se stick to him, a tam'd cuckold !
His wife be fair and young, but most dishonest.
Most impudent, and have no feeling of it,
No conscience to reclaim her from a monster !
Let her lie by him Ukc a flattering ruin.
And at one instant kill both name and honour !
Let him be lost, no eye to weep his end,
Nor find no earth that 's base enough to bury him ! —
Now, sir, fall on ! I am ready to oppose you.
Duke. I have better thought. I pray, sir, use yom* wife well.
Leon. Mine own humanity will teach me that, sir. — And now you are all welcome, all, and we ^11 to dinner : This is my wedding-day.
Duke. I '11 cross your joy yet. [Aside.
Juan. I have seen a mu'acle. Hold thine own, soldier ! Sure, they dare fight in fire that conquer Avomen.
Sane. H 'as beaten all my loose thoughts out of me, As if he had thresh'd 'em out o' the husk.
Enter Peeez.
Perez. Save ye ! Which is the lady of the house ?
Leon. That 's she, sir. That pretty lady, if you would speak with her.
Juan. Don Michael !
Leon. Another darer come ^ !
Pei'ez. Pray, do not know me ; I am full of business : When I have more time I '11 be merry with ye. — It is the woman [Asidel . — Good madam, tell me truly. Had you a maid call'd Estefania ?
Marg. Yes, truly, had I.
Perez. Was she a maid, do you think ?
Marg. I dare not swear for her ; For she had but a scant fame.
^ Juan. Don Michael !
Leon. Anotha- darer come/] So Heath (MS. Notes), and riglitly, beyond all doubt. — Both the old cds. liave (with a slif,dit variation of pointing), —
" .fuan. Don Michael, Leon, another darer conic i " and so the modem editors.
444 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act hi.
Perez. Was slie your kinswoman ?
Marg. Not that I ever knew. Now I look better, I think you married her : give you much joy, sir ! You may reclaim her ; 'twas a wild young girl.
Perez. Give me a halter ! — Is not this house mine, madam ? Was not she owner of it ? pray, speak truly.
Marg. No, certainly ; I am sure my money paid for it ; And I ne'er remember yet I gave it you, sir.
Perez. The hangings and the plate too ?
Marg. All are mine, sir, And every thing you see about the building : She only kept my house when I was absent. And so ill kept it, I was weary of her.
Sane. What a devil ails he?
Juan. He 's possessed, I '11 assure you.
Perez. Wliere is your maid ?
Marg. Do not you know that have her ? She is yours now ; why should I look after her ? Since that first hour I came, I never saw her.
Perez. I saw her later. — Would the devil had had her ! It is all true, I find ; a wild-fire take her ! [Aside.
Juan. Is thy wife with child, Don Michael ? thy excellent wife? Art thou a man yet ?
Alon. When shall we come and visit thee ?
Sane. And eat some rare fruit? thou hast admirable orchards. You are so jealous now ! pox o' your jealousy. How scundly you look !
Perez. Prithee, leave fooling ; I am in no humour now to fool and prattle. — Did she ne'er play the wag with you ?
Marg. Yes, many times. So often that I was asham'd to keep her ; But I forgave her, sir, in hope she would mend still ; And, had not you o' th' instant married her, I had put her oflf.
Perez. I thank you. — I am blest still ! Which way soe'er I turn, I am a made man ! Miserably guU'd beyond recovery ! [Aside.
SCENE I. j RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. 445
Juan. Yoli '11 stay and diue ?
Perez. Certain I cannot, captain. Hark in thine ear ; I am the arrant' st puppy, The miserablest ass ! but I must leave you ; I am in haste, in haste ! — Bless you, good madam. An you'' prove as good as my wife ! [Exit.
Leon. Will you come near, sii" ? will your grace but honoiu* me, And taste our dinner ? you are nobly welcome : All anger 's past, I hope, and I shall serve you.
Juan. Thou art the stock of men, and I admire thee.
[Exeunt,
ACT IV.
SCENE 1.— Seville.— A street.
Enter Perez. Perez. I '11 go to a conjm-or but I '11 find this polecat. This pilfering whore. A plague of veils, I cry, And covers for the impudence of women ! Their sanctity in show wiU deceive devils.
Enter Estepania, icith a casket. It is my evil angel ; let me bless me ! [Aside.
Estef. 'Tis he ; I am caught ; I must stand to it stoutly. And shew no shake of fear ; I see he is angry, Vex'd at the uttermost. [Aside.
Perez. My worthy wife, I have been looking of your modesty '
All the toMni over.
Estef. My most noble husband, I am glad I have found you ; for, in truth, I am weary. Weary and lame, with looking out yom* lordship.
Perez. I have been in bawdy-houses.
"AnyoiC] Both the old eds. "And you". — Seward and his successoi's give " And may you". See notes, p. 418, 438.
446 RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE. [act iv.
Estef. I believe you, —
And very lately too.
Perez. Pray you, pardon me ; —
To seek your ladyship. I have been in cellars,
In private cellars, where the thirsty bawds
Hear your confessions : I have been at plays.
To look you out amongst the youthful actors :
At puppet-shows (you are mistress of the motions ' ) :
At gossipings I hearkenM after you,
But amongst those confusions of lewd tongues
There 's no distinguishing beyond a Babel :
I was amongst the nuns, because you sing well ;
But they say yours are bawdy songs, they mourn for you :
And last I went to church to seek you out ;
'Tis so long since you were there, they have forgot you. Estef. You have had a pretty progress : I '11 tell mine noAv.
To look you out, I went to twenty taverns
Perez. And are you sober ?
Estef. Yes, I reel not yet, sir ;
Where I saw twenty drunk, most of 'em soldiers ;
There I had great hope to find you disguised too :
From hence to the dicing-house ; there I found quarrels
Needless and senseless, sAvords, and pots, and candlesticks,
Tables, and stools, and all in one confusion.
And no man knew his friend : I left this chaos,
And to the chirurgeon'g went ; he will'd me stay,
" For," says he learnedly, " if he be tippled.
Twenty to one he whores, and then I hear of him ;
If he be mad, he quarrels, then he comes too " :
I sought you where no safe thing would have ventured,
Amongst diseases base and vild, vild g women.
For I remember' d your old Boman axiom, —
The more the danger, still the more the honour :
Last, to yoiu" confessor I came, who told me.
You were too proud to pray : and here I have found you.
' motio'iis'\ i. e. puppets (used with a quibble).
s vild, vild] i. e. vile : see uote, vol. i. 331. So the 4to here, as also in the next speech but two. — The second folio " vile " m both places ; and so the modern editors.
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