127702
THE
DRAMATIC WORKS
OF
THOMAS HEYWOOD.
WITH
A LIFE OF THE POET,
AND
.REMARKS ON HIS WRITINGS
J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
1850.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIEST VOLUME.
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH. PART I.
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH. PART IT,
TTTE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. PART I.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. PART II.
THE
FIRST AND SECOND PARTS
OF
KING EDWARD IV.
HISTORIES
BY
THOMAS HEYWOOD.
REPRINTED FROM THE UNIQUE BLACK LETTER FIRST
EDITION OF 1600,, COLLATED WITH ONE OTHER
IN BLACK LETTER, AND WITH THOSE OF
1619 AND 1626.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES,
BY BAKRON FIELD, ESQ.
"If I wero to be consulted as to a Reprint of oar Old English Dramatists,
I should advise to begin with the collected plays of HEYWOOD."
CHARLES LAMB.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR TUB SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
1842.
COUNCIL
OF
THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
Vwiittmt.
THE MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OP NORMANBY.
RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE, F.S.A.
RT. HON. LORD F. EGERTON, M.P.
RT. HON. THE EARL OF GLENGALL.
RT. HON. EARL HOWE.
RT. HON. LORD LEIGH.
RT. HON. THE EARL OF POWIS.
AMYOT, THOMAS, ESQ., F.R.S., TREAS. S. A.
AYRTON, WILLIAM, ESQ., F.R.S,, F.S.A.
BOTFIELD, BERIAH, ESQ., M.P.
BRUCE, JOHN, ESQ., F.S.A.
COLMRR, J. PAYNE, ESQ., FS.A., DIRECTOR.
OJRA1K, GEORGE L., ESQ.
CUNNINGHAM, PETER, ESQ., TREASURER.
DYCIiJ, REV. ALEXANDER.
FIKU), JJARRON, ESQ.
1IALLAM, I1KNRY, ESQ., F.R.S., V.P.S.A.
1IALLIVVJ3LL, J, 0., ESQ., F.R.S. F.S.A.
HARNESS, REV. WILLIAM.
MACREADY, WILLIAM C., ESQ.
MILMAN, REV. HENRY HART.
OXENFORD, JOHN, ESQ.
PETTFGRKW, T. J., ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
PLANCUE, J. R., ESQ., F.S.A.
TI-JOMti, WILLIAM J., ESQ., F.S.A.
TOMUNS, F. GUEST, ESQ., SECRETARY,
WATSON, SIR FREDERICK BEILBY, K.C.H., F.R.S.
WRIGHT, THOMAS, ESQ., M.A., F.S.A.
The Council of the Shakespeare Society desire it to he understood
that they arc not answerable for any opinions or observations that
may appear in the Society's publications ; the Editors of the several
works being alone responsible for the aaiue.
INT110DUCT10N.
The following plays are interesting not only in them-
selves, but inasmuch as they run parallel with certain
parts of Shakespeare's historical series. We have either
seen or heard of no fewer than five editions of them ;
but they are all now so scarce, that the modern reader
may be said to have here, for the first time, an oppor-
tunity of comparing the similar scenes of the Duke of
f jloeester's hypocrisy and cruelty, in the two writers.
He will doubtless come to the conclusion of the late
Charles Lamb, that Heywood was but a prose Shake-
speare ; but he will remember that these plays are meant
only to be " histories," not comedies or tragedies ; that
plot and poetry are not essential to them ; and he will
close even this specimen with a conviction that Thomas
JToywood was a very practised and clever playwright, as
(to be sure) the writer or assistant in two hundred and
twenty plays, and an actor, to boot, could scarcely fail
of being.
Perhaps Shakespeare would not have left untouched
so pathetic a tragedy as that of Jane Shore, if he had
VI INTRODUCTION.
not seen it so well handled by Heywood. Stcevens has
this note on " Richard the Third :"
" In the books of the Stationers' Company, June 19, 1594, Tho-
mas Creede made the following entry : ' An enterlude intitled the
tragedie of Richard the Third, wherein is shown the deathe of Edward
the Fourthe, with the smotheringe of the two princes in the Tower,
with the lamentable end of Shore's wife, and the contention [con-
junction] a of the two houses of Lancaster and Yorkc.' This could
not have been the work of Shakespeare, unless he afterwards dis-
missed the death of Jane Shore, as an unnecessary incident, when
he revised the play/'
In the " True Tragedy of Richard the Third," which
was acted before Shakespeare's play of that title, and
which is reprinted (though incompletely) in Boswcll's
edition of the great poet, there are a few poor scones in
which Jane Shore appears, but her end or death is not
exhibited.
King Edward the Fourth, too, would have made a
character worthy of Shakespeare's pen ; and though our
great poet would doubtless have surpassed I Toy wood in
the tragedy of the Shores, yet he could not well have
excelled him in the manner in which ho hay dramatized
the old ballad of the King and the Tanner of Tuinworth.
So dramatically, indeed, is this done, that the late Mr.
Walclron made a two-act piece of it, under the title of
" The King in the Country," and it was acted at llich-
mond and Windsor, in 1788, after the return of tho
very different King George the Third from Cheltenham.
And yet perhaps Shakespeare saw the difficulty and
* Weber's Beaumont and Fletcher, vol. i. p. 148, and Collier's
Shakespeare, vol. v. p. 343.
INTRODUCTION. vii
delicacy of representing on the stage a starved woman
a situation, however pathetic in reality, which even
the taste of Rowe, more refined than that of Heywood,
was not able to make probable to the theatrical spec-
tator. Rowo professed, in his questionable tragedy of
"Jane Shore," to imitate Shakespeare; but to imitate
Shakespeare is more easily talked of than done : he has
only borrowed a scene from Shakespeare's " Richard the
Third," and has been much more indebted to Heywood's
"Ed ward the Fourth."
A writer in the " Retrospective Review " b says, that
this play is " a long and tedious business," but praises
the scenes and characters of the Shores. These I am
inclined to think equal in execution (as they resemble
them in story) with those of the same author's " Woman
kill'd with Kindness/' which the Retrospective Reviewer
extols so highly. He adds, that " the author has made
* Richard III/ a very vulgar villain." Some of his
" asides " are certainly gross ; but they are scarcely
worse than the following, in the third part of " King
Henry the Sixth," whoever wrote it :
*' Glos. And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
(Aside.') To say the truth, as Judas kissed his Master,
And cried All hail I whenas c he meant All harm /"
If the reader will refer to Dr. Percy's Reliques and
Ritson's " Antient Popular Poetry," he will see how
Iloywood has improved upon the old ballads of the King
* Vol. xi. p. 126.
* This is one word, and had better be so printed : it means little
more than when, just as whereas is often used for where , and vice versd.
Vlii INTRODUCTION.
and the Barker, or Tanner, of Tamworth ; and this epi-
sode is not unartisticaliy woven into the story of the
first part of our plays. Indeed, it conies more natu-
rally in, than the tale of the Shores, which goes through
both parts.
I have only to add that the Shakespeare Society is
indebted to the constant kindness of Lord Francis
Egerton for this reprint, from a copy supposed to be
unique, of the earliest and (as is generally the case) the
best edition of these plays. It is in black letter, and
dated 1600. There are two other black letter editions,
without dates, but certainly later than this, because the
word " God" is frequently changed in them into " Cock,"
in evasion of the statute of the 3 Jac. L, which had
passed since 1600. And this may account for the ab-
sence of dates to these editions, which may have been
intended to render a breach of the act of parliament
more difficult of proof. We are no defenders of any
violation of the third commandment; but we confess
that the substituted word appears to us more profane
than the original. Mr. Collier dates these two gothic-
letter copies 1605 and 1613 ; and to him I am indebted
for the collation of the edition of 1626 with one of them,
and with that of 1619. These black letters appear to
have proceeded from a different font of types from that
of 1600, but the title-pages are wanting in our copies.
The editions of 1619 and 1626 are in Roman letter, and
by the same printer with that of 1600, Humfrey Lownes,
and the last is in the title-page called " the fourth
impression;" but we thus make it the fifth. At any
rate, the Biographia Dramatica is wrong in supplying
INTRODUCTION. IX
the want of a date, to the black letter edition it cites,
with " 1599," and Langbaine is more correct in saying
" 16 . " The following entry in the J5iog. Dram, may
be accurate, but there was also a play called " Jane
Shore," by Chettle and Day, acted at the Rose Theatre
in 1 602 :
" 231. The Life and Death of Master Shore and Jane Shore his
wife, as it was lately acted by the Earle of Derbie his servants.
Entered on the Stationers' book, Aug. 28, 1599. This play is men-
tioned in the ' Knight of the Burning Pestle," and appears to be the
second part of Heywood's * Edward the Fourth.' "
The fullest account of Thomas Heywood is in the
last edition of Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. vii. p. 217;
and the latest notices of the author will be found in the
respective introductions to his " Apology for Actors,"
reprinted by this Society, and to his "Marriage Tri-
umph," by the Percy Society.
ERRATA.
Page 11, line 15, dele the apostrophe.
39, 24, for Tamsworth read Tamvortft.
78, 30, for ma read may.
87, 14, for kings read King's.
158, 10, add and untrussecL
163, 31, for told read gold.
1G6, 13 9 for parators re<a<l parilors.
180, 7, for the second speech read ptntKttfn\
191, 19, for IraiCrous rear! trailornns.
THE FIRST AND
SECOND PARTES OF KING EDWARD
THE FOURTH.
containing
His mery pastime with the Tanner of Tamworth,
as also his loue to faire Mistrisse Shoare,
her great promotion, fall and miserie,
and lastly the lamentable death
of both her and her hus-
band.
Likewise the besieging of London, by the Bastard
Falconbridge, and the valiant defence of
the same by the Lord Maior and
the Cittizens. .
As it hath diuers times beene publikcly played by the
Right Honorable the Earle of Derbie his
seruants.
Imprinted at London by F, K. for Humfrey Lownes and
lohn O.wnbridge. 1600.
PAET I.
DRAMATIS PERSONS."
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.
Lord HOWARD.
Sir THOMAS BELLINGER.
SIR HENRY MORTON, Vice- Admiral of the Isle of Wight.
The Captain of the same.
Sir HUMPHREY BOWES.
two Justlces '
ASTON.
The Master of St. Katharine's Hospital.
Lord Mayor of London.
SHORE.
JOSSELIN. i- Citizens.
EMERSLEY.
Recorder of London.
FALOONBRIDGE. i , , ( SMOKE.
I Rebels. -| r ,
SPICING. J I CJiitfu.
HOBS, the Tanner of Tamworth.
DUDGEON, his Man.
GOODFELLOW. -|
H ADL AND. >- Countrymen .
GRUDGEN. J
AYRE. ~\ ~ .
-~ \> buitors. ^ T.
PALMER. J ( RUVVORD.
A Miller.
The Queen.
The Duchess of YORK.
JANE SHORE.
Mrs. BLAGUE.
Widow NORTON.
NELL, HOB'S daughter.
Apprentices, Messengers, Officers, Soldiers, Huntsmen,
Watermen, &c.
Scene ENGLAND.
tt There is uo list of characters in any of the old copies.
THE FIRST PART
OF
EDWARD IY,
ACT I, SCENE I."
At Grafton.
JSnter KTNG EDWARD, the DUCHESS OF YORK, the QUEEN,
the LOUD HOWARD, and SIB THOMAS SELLINGEB.
Duch. Son, I tell ye you have done you know not what.
King. I have married a woman ; else I am deceived,
mother.
Duch. Married a woman ! married, indeed.
Here is a marriage that befits a King !
It is no marvel it was done in haste :
Here is a bridal, and with hell to boot :
You have made work !
King. Faith, mother, some we have, indeed ; but ere
long you shall see us make work for an heir apparent,
I doubt not. Nay, nay, come, come ! God's will, what
chiding still ?
Duch O God ! that e'er I liv'd to see this day !
i> The old copies are not divided into Acts and Scenes. The places
are always, aurl the exits and entrances sometime*, unmarked. The
stage directions are often either superfluous or deficient ; but I have
altered them as little as possible.
4 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
King. By my faith, mother, I hope you shall see the
night too, and in the morning I will be bold to bid you to
the christening, grandmother and godmother to a Prince
of Wales. Tut, mother, 'tis a stirring world.
Duck. Have you sent Warwick into Franco for this ?
King. No, by my faith, mother, I sent Warwick into
France for another; but this by chance being nearer
hand, and coming in the way, I cannot tell how, we con-
cluded, and now, as you see, are going about to get a
young king,
Duch. But tell me, son, how will you answer this ?
Is't possible your rash, unlawful act
Should not breed mortal hate betwixt the realms ?
What may the French king think when he shall hear
That whilst you send to entreat about his daughter,
Basely you take a subject of your own ?
What may the princess Bona think of this ?
Our noble cousin Warwick, that groat lord,
That centre-shaking thunderclap of war,
That like a column propt the house of York,
And bore our white rose bravely in his top,
When he shall hear his embassage abusM,
In this but made an instrument by you,
I know his soul will blush within his bosom,
And shame will sit in scarlet on his brow,
To have his honour touch'd with this foul blomish.
Son, son, I tell you that is done by you,
Which yet the child that is unborn shall ruo.
King. Tush, mother, you arc deceived : all true sub-
jects shall have cause to thank God, to have their king
born of a true English woman. I tell you, it was uovor
well since we matched with strangers 3 so our children
have been still like chickens of the half kind. But whore
the cock and the hen be both of one breed, thero is like
to be birds of the game. Hear you, mother, hear you j
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 5
had I gone to it by fortune, I had made your sons George
and Dick to have stood gaping after the Crown. This
wench, mother, is a widow, and hath made proof of her
valour 5 and for any thing I know, I am as like to do the
deed, as John Gray her husband was. I had rather the
people prayed to bless mine heir, than send me an heir.
Hold your peace, if you can see ; there was never mo-
ther had a towarder son. Why, cousin Howard and
Tom Sellinger, heard you ever such a coil about a
wife ?
How. My sovereign lord, with patience bear her spleen.
Your princely mother's zeal is like a river,
That from the free abundance of the waters
Breaks out into this inundation.
From her abundant care this rage proceeds,
O'er-swoln with the extremity of love.
SeL My lord, my lord, avoid a woman's humour.
If you resist this tumour of her will,
Here you shall have her dwell upon this passion,
Until she lade and dull our ears again.
Seem you but sorry for what you have done,
And straight she'll put the finger in the eye,
With comfort now, since it cannot be helpt.
But make you show to justify the act,
If ever other language in her lips
Than ** Out upon it, it is abominable 1"
I dare be hanged.
Say any thing, it makes no matter what,
Than thus be wearied with a woman's chat.
Duch. Ay, ay, you are the spaniels of the court,
And thus you fawn and soothe your wanton king :
But, Edward, bad'st thou priz'd thy majesty,
Thou never would'st have stain'd thy princely state-
With the base leavings of a subject's bed,
Nor borne the blemish of her bigamy.
6 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
A widow ! is it not a goodly thing ?
Gray's children, come ask blessing of the King.
Queen. Nay, I beseech your grace, ray lady York,
Even as you are a princess and a widow.
Think not so meanly of my widowhood :
A spotless virgin came I first to Gray ;
With him I liv'd a true and faithful wife \
And since his high imperial majesty
Hath pleas'd to bless my poor dejected state
With the high sovereign title of his Queen,
I here protest, before the host of heaven,
1 came as chaste a widow to his bed
As when a virgin I to Gray was wed.
King. Come, come, have done. Now you have chid
enough. God's foot, we were as merry ore she came as
any people in Christendom, I with the mistress and those
with the maids, only we have no fiddlers at our feast $
but, mother, you have made a fit of mirth. Welcome to
Graf ton, mother. By my troth, you are ovon just <*,omc
as I wished you here. Lot us go to supper ; and in
charity give us your blessing ero wo go to bod.
Duck. O Edward, Edward ! fly and leave this place,
Wherein, poor silly king, thou art enchanted.
This is her dam of Bedford's work, her mother,
That hath bewitch'd thee, Edward, my poor child.
Dishonour not the princes of thy laud,
To make them kueel with reverence at her foot,
That, ere thou didst empale with sovorcignty,
They would have scorned to have look'tl upon.
There's no such difference 'twixt the greatest poor
And the poor silliest kitchen-maid that lives.
As is betwixt thy worthiness and lior's.
Queen. I do confess it : yet, my lady York,
My mother is a duchess, as you are,
A princess born, the Duke of Bedford's wife,
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 7
And, as you know, a daughter and a sister
Unto the royal blood of Burgundy.
But you cannot so basely think on me,
As I do think of these vain worldly titles.
God from my soul my sin as far divide,
As I am far from boasting in this pride !
Sel. Madam, she is the mirror of her kind.
Had she but so much spleen as hath a gnat,
Her spirits would startle to abide your taunts.
She is a saint, and, madam, you blaspheme,
To wrong so sweet a lady.
Dnch. Thou art a minion and a flatterer.
Sel. Madam, but that you are my sovereign's mother,
I would let you know you wrong a gentleman.
How. Good cousin Sellinger, have patience.
Her grace's rage, by too much violence,
Hath spent itself already into air.
Dear madam, I beseech you, on my knee,
Tender that loving-kindness to the Queen,
That I dare swear she doth in soul to you.
Edw. Well said, good coz ; I pray thee, make them
friends.
Why, how now, Bess, what weep? nay then, I'll chide you.
What sudden news comes by this messenger ?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My sovereign lord, the bastard Falconbridge
Of late hath stirr'd rebellion in the south,
Encouraging his forces to deliver
King Henry, late depos'd, out of the Tower.
To him the malcontented commons flock
From every part of Sussex, Kent, and Essex,
His army waxed twenty thousand strong,
And, as it is supposed by circumstance,
Mean to take London, if not, well defended.
Edw. Well, let this Phaeton, that is mounted thus,
8 THE FIRST TART OF ACT I.
Look he sit surely, or, by England's George,
1*11 break his neck. This is no new evasion ;
I surely thought that one day I should see
That bastard Falcon take his wings to mount
Into our eagle-aery. Methought I saw
Black discontent sit ever on his brow,
And now I see I calculated well.
Good cousin Howard, and Tom Bellinger,
This night we'll spend in feast and jollity
With our new Queen and our beloved mother :
To-morrow you shall have commission
To raise up power against this haughty rebel.
Sirrah, depart not till you know our pleasure.
You shall convey us letters back to London
Unto the Mayor, Recorder, and our friends.
Is supper ready? come by, my bonny Bess.
Welcome, mother 3 we are all your guests. [JSweunt.
SCENE II. Near London.
Enter FALCONBRIDGE mth his troops, marching, SriciNt;,
SMOKE, CHUB, and others.
Fal. Hold, drum !
Spi. Hold, drum, and be hanged !
Smoke. Hold, drum, hold ! peace then, ho !
Silence to the proclamation.
Spi, You lie, you rogue; 'tis to the oration.
Chub, Nay, then, you all lie 5 'tis to the coblicaiioii.
Fal. True-hearted English, and our valiant friends
AIL Ho ! brave General, i'faith,
Spi. Peace there, you rogues, or I will split your chap*.
Fal. Dear countrymen, I publicly proclaim,
If any wronged, discontented English,
Touch'd with true feeling of King Henry's wrongs,
Henry the Sixth, the lawful king of England,
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV, 9
Who, by that tyrant Edward, the usurper,
Is held a wretched prisoner in the Tower,
If any man that fain would be enfranchised
From the sad yoke of Yorkish servitude,
Under which we toil like naked galley-slaves,
Know he that Thomas Neville, the Lord Falconbridge
All. Ay, ay ! a Falconbridge ! a Falconbridge !
Spi. Peace, ye clamorous rogues i On, General, with
your oration. Peace, there !
Fal. Pitying King Henry's poor distressed case,
Arm'd with his title and a subject's zeal,
Takes up just arms against the house of York,
And does proclaim our ancient liberty.
AIL Liberty, liberty, liberty, general liberty !
Fal. We do not rise like Tyler, Cade, and Straw,
Bluebeard, and other of that rascal rout,
Basely like tinkers or such muddy slaves,
For mending measures or the price of corn,
Or for some common in the wild of Kent,
That's by some greedy cormorant enclos'd,
But in the true and antient lawful right
Of the redoubted house of Lancaster.
Our blood is noble, by our birth a Neville,
And by our lawful line, Lord Falconbridge.
Who's here that's of so dull a leaden temper,
That is not fired with a Neville's name ?
All. A Neville 1 a Neville ! a Neville !
Fal. Our quarrel, like ourself, is honourable,
The law our warrant.
Smoke. Ay, ay 3 the law is on our side.
Chub. Ay \ the law is in our own hands.
Spi. Peace, you rogues !
Fal. And more : a blessing by the Word proposed
To those that aid a true anointed king.
Courage, brave spirits, and cry a Falcoubridge I
10 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
All A Falconbridge ! a Falconbridge !
Fal. We will be Masters of the Mint ourselves,
And set our own stamp on the golden coin.
We'll shoe our neighing coursers with no worse
Than the purest silver that is sold in Cheap.
At LeadenhalL, we'll sell pearls by the peck,
As now the mealmen use to sell their meal.
In Westminster, we'll keep a solemn court,
And build it bigger to receive our men.
Cry Falconbridge, my hearts, and liberty !
All. Falconbridge and liberty ! &c.
Smoke. Peace, ye slaves ; or I will smoko yo else.
Chub. Peace, ye slaves, or I will chub your chaps 3 but
indeed thou mayest well smoke them, because thy name
is Smoke.
Smoke, Why, sirs, I hope Smoke, the smith of Chop-
stead, is as good a man as Chub, the chandler of Sand-
wich.
Spi. Peace, ye rogues ; what, are you quarrelling ? and
now list to Captain Spicing.
You know Cheapside : there are the mercers' shops,
Where we will measure velvet by the pikes,
And silks and satins by the street's whole breadth :
We'll take the tankards from the conduit-cocks
To fill with ipocras and drink carouse,
Where chains of gold and plate shall bo as plenty
As wooden dishes in the wild of Kent.
Smoke. Oh, bravely said, Ned Spicing ! the honcfttcgt
lad that ever pund spice in a mortar. Now speaks Cap-
tain Smoke.
Look, lads ; for from this lull ye may discern
The lovely town which we are marching to s
That same is London, lads, ye look upon :
Range all arow, iny hearts, and stand at gu r /<t,
As do the herds of deer at some strange sight,
SCENE in. KING EDWARD IV. 11
Or as a troop of hungry travellers,
That fire their eyes upon a furnish'd feast.
Look how the Tower doth *tice us to come on,
To take out Henry the Sixth, there prisoner :
See how Saint Katharine's smokes 5 wipe, slaves, your
eyes.
And whet your stomachs for the good malt-pies.
Chub. Why, then, belike I am nobody. Room and
avoidance, for now speaks Captain Chub.
No sooner in London will we be,
But the bakers for you, the brewers for me.
Birchin lane shall suit us.
The costermongers fruit us,
The poulters send us in fowl,
And butchers' meat without control :
And ever when we sup or dine,
The vintners freely bring us in wine.
If anybody ask who shall pay.
Cut off his head and send him away.
This is Captain Chub's law, whosoever say nay.
FaL Bravely rcsolv'd ? So march we forward all,
And boldly say, good luck shall us befal. [Exeunt*
SCENE III. London ; Guildhall.
Enter the Lord Mayor, SHOILE, and JOSSELIN, in their
velvet coats and gorgets, and leading staves.
Mayor. This is well done. Thus should good citizens
Fashion* themselves as well for war as peace.
Have ye commanded that in every street
They hang forth lights as soon as night comes on ?
Say, cousin Shore 5 that was referred to you.
Shore. We have, my lord. Besides, from every hall
There is at least two hundred men in arms,
Mayor, It cheers my heart to hear this readiness.
12 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
Let never rebels put true subjects down.
Come when they will, their welcome shall be such,
As they had better kept them further off,
But where is Master Recorder ? his advice
Must not be wanting in these high affairs.
Shore. About an hour ago, and somewhat more,
I left him fortifying the bridge, my lord ;
Which done, he purposed to meet you here.
Mayor. A discreet painful gentleman he is,
And we must all of us be so inclined,
If we intend to have the city safe,
Or look for thanks and credit with the King.
I tell ye, masters, aged though I be,
I, for my part, will to no bed this night,
Jos. Why, is it thought the Bastard is so near?
Mayor. How mean ye, Master Josselin, by near?
He neither comes from Italy nor Spain ;
But out of Kent and Essex, which you know
Are both so near, as nearer cannot be,
Jos. Nay, by your patience, good my lord, a word.
Simple though I am, yet I must confess,
A mischief further off would, and so forth 5
You know my meaning. Things not seen before
Are, and so forth. Yet, in good sadness,
I would that all were well $ and perchance
It may be so. What ! were it not for hope,
The heart, and so forth. But to the matter :
You mean and purpose $ ay, I am sure ye do.
Mayor. Well, master Josselin, we are sure ye mean well,
Although somewhat defective in your utterance.
Jos. Ay, ay, my lord Mayor, I am, you know,
Willing, ready, and so forth ; tut, tut, for me, ha, ha !
My mansion is at Ham, and thence, you know,
I come to help you in this needful time,
When rebels are so busy, and so forth.
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 13
What, masters ? age must never be despis'd.
You shall find me, my lord, still, and so forth.
Enter UKSWICK, the Recorder.
Shore. My lord, now here comes Master Recorder.
Rtc. Good ev'n, my good lord Mayor, The streets are
chain'd,
The bridge well manned, and every place prepared.
Shall we now go together and consult
What else there is to be determined of ?
Mayor. Your coming, Master Recorder, was the thing
We all desired ; therefore, let us consult.
And now what say ye, if with half our power
We issue forth and give the rebels fight ?
Rec. Before they do provoke us nearer hand.
There were no way to that, if all be pleas'd.
What's your opinion, Master Josselin ?
Jos. Good sootb, my lord Mayor and Master Recorder,
You may take your choice ; but, in my conceit,
> Issue if you will, or else stay if you will.
A man can novor be too wary, and so forth.
Yet, as to issue will not be the worst,
Even so to tarry. Well, you may think more on't,
But all is one ; we shall be sure to fight,
And you are wise enough to see your time 5
Ay, ay, a God's name.
Rec. My lord,
Accept his meaning better than his counsel.
Mayor. Ay, so we do, or else we were to blame.
What if we stop the passage of the Thames
With such provision as we have of ships ?
Rec. 'Tis doubtful yet, my lord, whether the rebels
Purpose that way to seek our detriment.
Rather, meseemeth, they will come by land.
And either make assault at London Bridge,
14 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
Or else at Aldgate, both which entrances
Were good they should be strongly fortified.
Jos. Well said, master Recorder. You do. Ay, ay,
I ye warrant.
Rec. As for the other, the whole companies
Of Mercers, Grocers, Drapers, and the rest,
Are drawn together, for their best defence,
Beside the Tower, a neighbour to that place,
As on the one side it will clear the river,
So on the other, with their ordinance,
It may repulse and beat them from the gate.
[A noise ivithin.
Mayor. What noise is this ? provide ye suddenly,
And every man betake him to his charge.
Enter a Messenger.
Shore. Soft ; who is this ? How now, my friend, what
news ?
Mes. My master, the Lieutenant of the Tower,
Gives ye to understand he hath descried
The army of the rebels.
Rec. Which way come thoy ?
Mes. From Essexward ; and therefore 'tis his mind
You guard both Aldgate well and Bishopsgate.
Mayor. Saint George, away ! and lot us all resolve
Either to vanquish this rebellious rout,
Preserve our goods, our children, and our wives,
Or seal our resolution with our lives. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Before the Gates of London.
Enter FALCONBRIDGE, with SFICIN& and his Troops.
Fal. Summon the City, and command our ontrance ;
Which, if we shall be stubbornly denied,
Our power shall rush like thunder through tho walls.
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 15
Spi. Open your gates, slaves, when I command ye.
[SPICING beats on the gates, and then enter the Lord
Mayor and his associates, with the Apprentices, on
the watts.
Mayor. What's he that beats thus at the City gates,
Commanding entrance as he were a king ?
Fal. He that will have releasement for a King,
I, Thomas Neville, the Lord Falconbridge.
Spi. Ho, sirrah, you clapperdudgin, unlock, unbolt !
or I'll bolt you, if I get in. Stand you preaching, with
a pox ?
Mayor. We have no warrant, Thomas Falconbridge,
To let your armed troops into our city,
Considering you have taken up these arms
Against our sovereign and our country's peace.
Fal. I tell thee, Mayor, and know he tells thee so,
That comoth armed in a king's defence,
That I crave entrance in King Henry's name,
In right of the true line of Lancaster.
Methinks that word, spoke from a Neville's mouth,
Should, like an earthquake, rend your chained gates,
And tear in pieces your portcullises.
I thunder it again into your ears,
You stout and brave courageous Londoners ;
In Henry's name, I crave my entrance in.
Rec. Should Henry's name command the entrance here,
We should deny allegiance unto Edward,
Whose true and .faithful subjects we are sworn,
And in whose presence is our sword upborne.
Fal. I tell thee, traitor, then thou bear'st thy sword
Against thy true undoubted king.
Shore.. Nay, then, I tell thee, bastard Falconbridge,
My lord Mayor bears his sword in his defence,
That put the sword into the arms of London,
16 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
Made the lord Mayors for ever after knights,
Richard, depos'd by Henry Bolingbroke,
From whom the house of York doth claim their right.
Fal. What's lie that answers us thus saucily ?
Smoke. Sirrah, your name, that we may know ye here-
after.
Shore. My name is Shore, a goldsmith by my trade.
FaL What ! not that Shore that hath the dainty wife ?
Shore's wife, the flow'r of London for her beauty !
Shore. Yes, rebel, ev'n the very same.
Spi. Run, rascal, and fetch thy wife to our General
presently, or else all the gold in Cheapside cannot ran-
som her. Wilt thou not stir when I bid thee?
Fal. Shore, listen : thy wife is mine, that's flat.
This night, in thine own house, she sleeps with me.
Now, Crosby, lord Mayor, shall we enter in ?
Mayor. Crosby, the lord Mayor, tells thee, proud rebel,
no.
FaL No, Crosby ? shall I not ? Thou doating lord,
I cram the name of rebel down thy throat.
There's not the poorest rascal of my camp,
But if he chance to meet thee in Cheapside,
Upon thy foot-cloth, he shall make thee 'light,
And hold his stirrup while he mount thy horse,
Then lackey him which way he please to go,
Crosby, I'll make the citizens be glad
To send thee and the aldermen, thy brethren,
All manacled and chained like galley-slaves,
To ransom them and to redeem the city.
Mayor. Nay, then, proud rebel, pause, and hear mo
There's not the poorest and meanest citizen,
That is a faithful subject to the King,
But, in despite of thy rebellious rout,
Shall walk to Bow, a small wand in his hand,
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV, 17
Although thou lie encamp'd at Mile-end Green,
And not the proudest rebel of you all
Shall dare to touch him for his damned soul.
Come, we will pull up our portcullises,
And let me see thee enter, if thou dare.
Fal. Spoken like a man, and true velvet- jacket,
And we will enter, or stick by the way,
Enter from thepostei*n gates, Lord Mayor 9 Recorder,
and JOSSELIN, and Apprentices.
Mayor. Where's Master Recorder and Master Jos-
selin ?
Rec. Here, my lord Mayor. We now have manned
the walls,
And fortified such places as were needful.
Mayor, Why, it is well, brothers and citizens ;
Stick to your city as good men should do.
Think that in Richard's time even such a rebel
Was then by Walworth, the lord Mayor of London,
Stabtfd dead in Smithfield.
Then show yourselves as it befits the time,
And lot this find a hundred Walworths now
Dare stab a rebel, were he made of brass.
And, prentices, stick to your officers,
For you may come to be as wo are now.
God and our King against an arrant rebel !
Brothers, away ; let us defend our walls.
First Ap. My lord, your words are able to infuse
A double courage in a coward's breast.
Then fear not us ; although our chins be bare,
Our hearts are good : the trial shall be seen
Against these rebels on this champaign green.
See. Ap* We have no tricks nor policies of war,
But by the antient custom of our fathers,
We'll soundly lay it on j take't off that will ;
18 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
And, London prentices, be rul'd by me ;
Die ere ye lose fair London's liberty.
Spi. How now, my flat-caps 5 are you grown so
brave ?
*Tis but your words : when matters come to proof,
You'll scud as 'twere a company of sheep.
My counsel therefore is to keep your shops.
" What lack you ?" better will beseem your mouths
Than terms of war. In sooth, you are too young.
First Ap. Sirrah, go to ; you shall not find it so.
Flat-caps thou calTst us. We scorn not the name,
And shortly, by the virtue of our swords,
We'll make your cap so fit unto your crown,
As sconce and cap and all shall kiss the ground.
Sec. Ap. You are those desperate, idle, swaggering
mates,
That haunt the suburbs in the time of peace,
And raise up ale-house brawls in the street ;
And when the rumour of the war begins,
You hide your heads, and are not to be found.
Thou term'st it better that we keep our shops.
*Tis good indeed we should have such a care,
But yet, for all our keeping now and thon,
Your pilf 'ring fingers break into our locks,
Until at Tyburn you acquit the fault.
Go to : albeit by custom we are mild,
As those that do profess civility,
Yet, being mov'd, a nest of angry hornets
Shall not be more offensive than we will.
We'll fly about your ears and sting your hearts.
Jos. He tells you truth, my friends, and so forth.
Fal. Who can endure to be so brav'd by boys ?
First Ap. Nay, scorn us not that we are prentices.
The Chronicles of England can report
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 19
What memorable actions we have done,
To which this day's achievement shall be knit,
To make the volume larger than it is.
Mayor. Now, of mine honour, ye do cheer my heart.
Brave English offsprings, valiantly resolv'd !
Sec. Ap. My lord, return you back ; let us alone ;
You are our masters ; give us leave to work 5
And if we do not vanquish them in fight,
Let us go supperless to bed at night.
[Exeunt all but SPICING, SMOKE, and their creiv.
Spi. Smoke, get thee up on the top of St. Botolph's
steeple, and make a proclamation.
Smoke. What, a plague, should I proclaim there ?
Spi. That the bells be rung backward,
And cutting of throats be cried havock.
No more calling of lanthorn and candle-light :
That maidenheads be valued at just nothing;
And sack be sold by the sailed
That no piddling slave stand to pick a lock, but slash
me off the hinges, as one would slit up a cow's paunch.
Smoke. Let no man have less than a warehouse to his
wardrobe. Cry a fig for a sergeant, and walk by the
Counter like a lord : pluck out the clapper of Bow Bell,
and hang up all the sextons in the city.
SpL Rantum, scantum, rogues, follow your leader,
Cavallero Spicing, the maddest slave that ever pund
spice in a mortar.
Smoke. Take me an usurer by the greasy pouch and
shake out his crowns, as a hungry dog would shake a
haggis. Bar foul play, rogues, and live by honest filch-
ing and stealing: he that hath a true finger, let him
forfeit his face to the frying-pan. Follow your leader,
rogues, follow your leader !
Spi. Assault, assault ! and cry, " A Falconbridge T
20 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
Enter JOSSELIN on the walls.
Jos. Sirrah Spicing, if Spicing be thy name, we are
here for matters and causes as it might seem for the
king : therefore, it were good, and so forth.
Spi. Open the gates ; or, if we be the picklocks, ye
rogues, we'll play the mastiff-dogs amongst you. If I
worry not a thousand of you with my teeth, let me be
hanged in a packthread, and so forth.
Jos. Pond fellow, justice is to be used ; ay, marry, is
it ; and law in some sort, as it were, is to be followed.
Oh, God forbid else 1 This our magistrate hath power
as might seem, and so forth ; for duty is to be observed,
and officers must be obeyed, in sort and calling, and so
forth.
Spi. We'll talk more anon, good Master And-so-forth.
[A very fierce assault on all sides, in which the Ap-
prentices do great service.
Enter FALCONBBJDGE, angry, with his men.
Fal. Why this is to trust to these base rogues.
This dirty scum of rascal peasantry,
This heartless rout of base rascality,
A plague upon you all, you cowardly rogues,
You craven curs, you slimy muddy clowns,
Whose courage but consists in multitude,
Like sheep and neat that follow one another,
Which, if one run away, all follow after ;
This hedge-bred rascal, this filthy fry of ditches j
A vengeance take you all ! This 'tis to load you.
Now do you cry and shriek at every shock ;
A hot consuming mischief follow you !
Spi. 'Swounds ! scale, rogues, scale 1 A Falconbridge,
a Faleonbridge !
SCEKE v. KING EDWARD IV. 21
Enter the Lord Mayor and his train from the gates.
Mayor. Set open the gates ! Nay, then, we'll sally out.
It never shall be said, when I was Mayor,
The Londoners were shut up in the city.
Then cry " King Edward/' and let's issue out.
FaL Now, if ye be true-hearted Englishmen,
The gates set open and the portcullis up,
Lefs pell-mell in, to stop their passage out.
lie that first enters be possess'd of Cheap !
1 give him it freely, and the chiefest wench.
Sjji. That he can find. Let that lie in the bargain.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. continues.
The Lord Mayor and the Citizens having valiantly re-
pulsed the Rebels from the city, enter FALCONBEIDGE
and SPICING, and their train, wounded and dismayed.
Sf)i, Hearest thou, general ? there's hot drinking at
the Mouth of BishopVgate, for our soldiers are all
mouth. They lie like rascals, with their brains beaten out.
Therefore, since we are all like to feed hogs in Hounds-
ditch, let us retire our troops, and save our maimed men :
or, if wo issue further, we are put to the sword, every
mother's son of us.
FaL Art thou that villain, in whose damned mouth
Was never heard of any word but wounds ?
Whose recreant limbs are notched with gaping scars,
Thicker than any carking craftsman's score,
Whose very scalp is scratched, and craz'd, and broken,
Like an old mazer beaten on the stones 5
And stand 5 st thou now to save our maimed men ?
A plague upon thee, coward !
Spi. Why how now, base Thomas ? *S wounds ! wert
thou a bass -viol, thou art but a rascal and a rebel, as I
2 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I.
am, hearest thou ? If I do not turn true subject, and
leave thee, let me be worried with dogs. 'Swounds !
dost thou impeach my manhood? Tom Neville, thou
had'st as good to have damned thyself as uttered such a
word. Flatly, I forsake thee; and all that love Ned
Spicing, follow me ! [The rest offer to follow.
FaL Come, come, ye testy fool, thou seest me griev'd,
Yet can'st not bear with mine infirmity.
Thou know'st I hold thee for as tall a man
As any lives or breathes our English air.
I know there lives not a more fiery spirit,
A more resolvfed, valiant. A plague upon it !
Thou know'st I love thee ; yet if a word escape
My lips in anger, how testy then thou art !
I had rather all men left me than thyself.
Thou art my soul : thou art my genius.
I cannot live without thee, not an hour.
(Aside.) Thus must I still be forc'd, against my will,
To soothe this dirty slave, this cowardly rascal.
(Aloud.) Come, come, be friends, ye testy firebrand !
We must retire. There is no remedy.
Spi. Nay, Tom, if thou wilt have me mount on the
walls,
And cast myself down headlong on their pikes,
I'll do it. But to impeach my valour !
Had any man but thou spoke half so much,
I would have split his heart. Still beware
My valour : such words go hardly down.
Well, I am friends ; thou thought'st not as thou spakest.
FaL No 3 on my soul ! thou thinfst not that I did.
Sound a retreat there, I command ye, strait f
But whither shall we retire ?
Spi. To Mile-end Green. There is no fitter place.
FaL Then let us back retire to Mile-end Green,
And there expect fresh succour from our friends,
SCENE VI. KING EDWARD IV. 23
With such supply as shall ere long assure
The city is our own. March on 1 Away i [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. continues.
Enter the Lord Mayor, with his train, and the
Apprentices.
Mayor. Ye have bestirr'd ye like good citizens,
And shown yourselves true subjects to your king.
You worthily, prentices, bestirr'd yourselves,
That it did cheer my heart to see your valour.
The rebels are retir'd to Mile-end Green.
Mec. Where so we may not suffer them to rest,
But issue forth upon them with fresh force.
Jos. My lord Mayor, diligence doth well, and so forth.
Matters must be looked into as they ought, indeed should
they. When things are well done, they are, and so forth 5
for causes and things must indeed be looked into.
Mayor. Well, sir, we very well conceive your meaning,
And you have shown yourself a worthy gentleman.
See that our walls be kept with courts of guard,
And well defended against the enemy ;
For we will now withdraw us to Guildhall,
To take advice what further must be done. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. Shore's House.
Enter SHOB.E and JANE, his Wife.
Shore. Be not afraid, sweetheart, the worst is past:
God have the praise, the victory is our's.
We have prevail'd : the rebels are repulsM,
And every street of London soundeth joy.
Can'st thou, then, gentle Jane, be sad alone ?
THE FIRST PART OF ACT II.
Jane. I am not sad now you are here with mo,
joy, my hope, my comfort, and my love,
My dear, dear husband, kindest Matthew Shore.
But when these arms, the circles of my soul,
Were in the fight so forward, as I heard,
How could I choose, sweetheart, but be afraid ?
Shore. Why dost thou tremble now, when peril's past ?
Jane. I think upon the horror of the time.
But tell me why you fought so desperately ?
Shore. First, to maintain King Edward's royalty ;
Next, to defend the city's liberty ;
But chiefly, Jane, to keep thee from the soil
Of him that to my face did vow thy spoil.
Had he prevail'd, where then had been our lives ?
Dishonoured our daughters, ravish' d our fair wives j
Possess'd our goods, and set our servants free ;
Yet all this nothing to the loss of thce.
Jane. Of me, sweetheart ? why how should I be lost ?
Were I by thousand storms of fortune tost,
And should endure the poorest wretched life,
Yet Jane will be thy honest loyal wife.
The greatest prince the sun did ever see,
Shall never make me prove untrue to thee.
Shore. I fear not fair means, but a rebel's force.
Jane. These hands shall make this body a dead corse
Ere force or flatt'ry shall mine honour stain.
Shore. True fame survives, when death the flesh hath
slain.
Enter an Officer from tJie Lord Mayor.
Officer. God save ye, master Shore, and, mistress, by
your leave 5,
Sir, my lord Mayor sends for you by me,
And prays your speedy presence at Guildhall.
There's news the rebels have made head again,
SCBNK II. KING EDWARD IV. 25
And have ensconc'd themselves upon Mile-end,
And presently our armed men must out.
You being Captain of two companies,
In honour of your valour and your skill,
Must lead the vaward. God and right stand with ye I
Shore. Friend, tell my lord I'll wait upon him strait.
Jane. Friend, tell my lord he does my husband wrong,
To set him foremost in the danger still.
Ye shall not go, if I may have my will.
Shore. Peace, wife ; no more. Friend, I will follow ye.
Esrit Officer.
Jane. I'faith, ye shall not. Prithee, do not go.
Shore. Not go, sweetheart ? that were a coward's trick,
A traitor's part, to shrink when others fight.
Envy shall never say that Matthew Shore,
The goldsmith, stay'd, when other men went out
To meet his King's and country's enemy.
No, Jane 5 'gainst all the rebels on Mile-end,
I dare alone King Edward's right defend.
Jane. If you be slain, what shall become of me ?
Shore. Right well, my wench: enow will marry thee.
1 leave thee worth at least five thousand pound.
Jane. Marry again ? that word my heart doth wound.
(Weeps.) I'll never marry, nor I will not live
If thou be killM. Let me go with thee, Mat.
Shore. 'Tis idle talk, good Jane 5 no more of that.
Go to my lady Mayoress and the rest,
As you are still companion with the best ;
With them be merry, and pray for our good speed.
Jane* To part from thee, my very heart doth bleed.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Mile End.
Enter FALCONBRIDGE with his Troops, marching.
FaL Yet stand we in the sight of uprear^d Troy,
And suck the air she draws: our very breath
26 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II.
Flies from our nostrils warm unto the walls.
We beard her bristling spires, her battled towers,
And proudly stand and gaze her in the face.
Look on me, and I doubt not ye imagine
My worth as great as any one of your's,
My fortunes, would I basely fawn on Edward,
To be as fair as any man's in England.
But he that keeps your Sovereign in the Tower
Hath seiz'd my land, and robb'd me of my right.
I am a gentleman as well as he.
What he hath got, he holds by tyranny.
Now, if you faint, or cowardly should fly,
There is no hope for any one to live.
We hear the Londoners will leave the city,
And bid us battle here on Mile-end Green,
Whom if we vanquish, then we take the town,
And ride in triumph thorough Cheap to Paul's.
The Mint is our's, Cheap, Lombard Street, our own ;
The meanest soldier wealthier than a king.
SpL March fair, ye rogues, all kings or capknitters.
Dost thou hear, Tom Falconbridge ? I prithee grant me
one boon I shall ask thee.
FaL What is it, Ned ? it's hard I should deny thee.
Spi. Why, that when we have won the city, as we
cannot choose but win it, that I may have the knighting
of all these rogues and rascals.
FaL What then?
Spi. What then ? Zounds, I scorn your scurvy, wry-
mouthed " What then ?" Now, a pox take me if I fight
a blow.
FaL Why this is fine. Go to ; knight whom thou wilt,
Spi. Who? I knight any of them? I'll see them
hanged first for a company of tattered ragged rascals.
If I were a king, I would not knight one of them.
Chub. What 9 not me, Cavallero Chub ?
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 27
Spi. Yes, I care not if I knight thee ; and yet I'll see
thee hanged ere I'll honour thee so much. I care not so
much for the matter ; but I would nut be denied my
humour.
FaL Why, what a perverse fellow art thou, Ned !
Spi. Ho, my fine Tom, my brave Falconbridge, my
mad Greek, my lusty Neville ! thou art a king, a Csesar !
a plague on thee ; I love thee not, and yet I'll die with
thee.
Enter the Lord Mayor, Recorder, JOSSELIN, SHORE, and
their Soldiers, marching.
Mayor. See how rebellion cm exalt itself,
Pruning the feathers of sick r^iscipliue.
Rec. They think they can outlook our truer looks.
Shore. Mark but the scornful eye of Falconbridge.
Mayor. I rather think 'tis fear upon his cheek
Deciphers pale disturbance in his heart.
Jos. Our coming forth hath well, I say no more 3
But shall we take occasion, and so forth ?
Rebellion should have no respite. Oh, my lord,
The time hath been but all is one for that.
Spi. How like a troop of rank o'erridden jades
Yon bushy-bearded citizens appear !
Chub. Nay ; rather so many men in the moon,
And every one a furzen bush in his mouth*
Spi. The four and twenty wards ! now, fair befal them ;
Would any one have thought before this hour,
There had been such increase of muddy slaves ?
Fal. Peace, soldiers 1 they are resolute, you see ;
And not to flatter us, nor favour them,
Such haughty stomachs seldom have been seen
Imbodied in the breasts of citizens.
How sternly in their own peculiar strength,
Without the assistance of their lingering king,
28 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II.
Did they of late repulse us from their walls !
And now again how expeditiously,
And unexpected, they have met us here !
Were we more deadly incens'd than wo arc,
I would not but commend their chivalry.
Spi. Captain, shall we go challenge them to fight?
'Sblood I we burn daylight ; they will think, anon,
We are afraid to see their glittering swords.
Chub. Tell them, they come instead of pudding pies
And Stratford cakes, to make's a banquet here.
Fal. Soft j give me leave ; I will devise with words
To weaken and abash their fortitude.
Rec. The bastard offers to come forth, my lord.
Mayor. I am the man intends to answer him*
Fal. Crosby!
Mayor. Traitor !
AIL Traitor ! zounds, down with him I
Fal. Be patient : give me leave, I say, to speak.
I doubt not but the traitor's name shall rest
With those that keep their lawful King in bonds.
Mean time, ye men of London, once again
Behold my warlike colours are displayed,
Which I have vowed shall never be wrapt up
Until your lofty buildings kiss our feet,
Unless you grant me passage through your streets.
Rec. Passage, say'st thou? That must be o'er our
breasts,
If any passage thou art like to have.
FaL Why then upon your bodies will I tread,
And wade through standing pools of your lost blood.
Shore. We know thy threats, and reckon them as wind,
Not of sufficient power to shake a reed.
SpL But we shook your gates not long ago,
And made your walls to shake like Irish bogs.
Chub. Ay, and so terrified ye, that not one of ye durst
SCENE H. KING EDWARD IV. 29
come to fetch a pint of sack at the Mouth at Bishopsgate ;
no, not for your lives.
Jos. Ay, but you know what followed, and so forth.
Spi. Et caetera ! are you there ? methinks, the sight
of the dun bull, the Neville's honoured crest, should
make you leave your broken sentences, and quite forget
ever to speak at all.
Shore. Nay, then, look thou upon our City's arms,
Wherein is a bloody dagger : that is it,
Wherewith a rebel like to Falconbridge
Had his desert, meet for his treachery.
Can you behold that, and not quake for fear ?
Rec. Since when, it is successively decreed,
Traitors with us shall never better speed.
Spi. Captain and fellow-soldiers, talk no more,
But draw your meaning forth in downright blows.
Fal. Sound then alarum.
Mayor. Do the like for us,
And where the right is, there attend success !
Jos. Stay, and be better advis'd. Why, countrymen,
What is this Falconbridge you follow so ?
I could instruct you ; but you know my mind.
And, Falconbridge, what are these rusticals,
Thou should' st repose such confidence in glass ;
Shall I inform thee ? No, thou art wise enough.
Edward of York delays the time, you say ;
Therefore he will not come. Imagine so.
The city's weak. Hold that opinion still.
And your pretence King Henry's liberty.
True 5 but as how ? Shall I declare you? No.
What then ? you'll fight. A God's name, take your choice.
I can no more but give you my advice.
FaL Away with this parenthesis of words.
Crosby, courage thy men, and on this Green
Whose cause is right, let it be quickly seen.
80 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II.
Mayor. I am ready as thou canst desire.
On then, a God's name !
[Theyfght. The rebels drive them back. Then
enter FALCONBRIDGE and SPICING.
Fal. This was well fought. Now, Spicing, list to me.
The citizens thus having given us ground,
And therefore somewhat daunted, take a band
Of Essex soldiers, and with all the speed
Thou possibly canst make, withdraw thyself,
And get between the city-gates and them.
Spi. Oh, brave Tom Neville, gallant Falconbridge,
I aim at thy intended policy ;
This is thy meaning ; while thou art employed
And hold'st them battle here on Mile-end Green,
I must provide, as harbinger before,
There be not only clear and open passage,
But the best merchants' houses to receive
Us and our retinue. I am proud of that,
And will not sleep upon thy just command.
Fal. Away, then ! I will follow as I may,
And doubt not but that our's will be the day.
[After some excursiotis, enter Lord
Mayor and SHORE.
Mayor. We have recover VI what before wo lost,
And Heav'n stands with the justice of our cause.
But this I noted in the fight even now,
That part of this rebellious crew is sent,
By what direction, or for what intent,
I cannot guess, but may suspect the worst \
And, as it seems, they compass it about
To hem us in, or get the gate of us :
And therefore, cousin Shore, as I repose
Trust in thy valour and thy loyalty,
Draw forth three hundred bowmen and some pikes,
And presently encounter their assault.
SCENE IT. KING EDWARD IV. 31
Shore. I have your meaning ; and effect, my lord,
I trust shall disappoint them of their hope. [Exit.
[After an alarum, enter SPICING with
a Drum, and certain Soldiers.
Spi. Come on, my hearts, we will be kings to-night,
Carouse in gold, and sleep with merchants' wives,
While their poor husbands lose their lives abroad :
We are now quite behind our enemies' backs,
And there's no let or hindrance in the way,
But we may take possession of the town.
Ah, you mad rogues, this is the wished hour ;
Follow your leader, and be resolute.
[As he marches? thinking to enter the Gates, SHORE
and his Soldiers issue forth and repulse him. Aftet*
excursions, wherein the Rebels are dispersed, enter
Mayor, Recorder, SHORE, JOSSELIN, and a Mes-
senger talking with the Mayor.
Mayor. Ay, my good friend, so certify his Grace,
The rebels are dispersed all and fled,
And now his Highness meets with victory.
[Eatit Messenger.
Marshal yourselves, and keep in good array.
To add more glory to this victory,
The King in person cometh to this, place.
How great an honour have you gained to-day !
And how much is this city fam'd for ever,
That twice, without the help either of King,
Or any but of God and our own selves,
We have prevailed against our country's foes.
Thanks to His Majesty assisted us,
Who always helps true subjects in their need !
[The trumpets sound, and then enter King
Lord HOWARD, BELLINGER, and the train.
King. Where is my Lord Mayor ?
32 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IT.
Mayor, Here, dread Sovereign.
I hold no lordship nor no dignity
In presence of my gracious lord the King.
But all I humble at your Highness* feet,
With the most happy conquest of proud rebels,
Dispers'd and fled, that now remains no doubt
Of ever making head to vex us more.
King. You have not ta'en the bastard Falconbridge,
Or is he slain ?
Mayor. Neither, my gracious lord.
Although we laboured to our uttermost,
Yet all our care came over-short
For apprehending him or Spicing either :
But some are taken ; others on profferVl grace
Yielded themselves, and at your mercy stand.
King. Thanks, good lord Mayor. You may condemn us
Of too much slackness in such urgent need ;
But we assure you on our royal word,
So soon as we had gathered us a power,
We dallied not, but made all haste we could.
What order have ye ta'en for Falconbridge
And his confederates in this rebellion ?
Mayor. Under your leave, my liege, we have proclaimed
Who bringeth Falconbridge, alive or dead,
Shall be requited with a thousand marks.
As much for Spicing. Others, of less worth,
At easier rates are set.
King. Well have ye done ;
And we will see it paid from our Exchequer.
Now leave we this and come to you,
That have so well deserv'd in these affairs,
Affairs, I mean, of so main consequence.
Kneel down and all of you receive in field
The honour you have merited in field.
[Draws 7m sword and knights them.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 33
Arise Sir John Crosby, Lord Mayor of London and
Knight.
Arise up Sir Ralph Josselin, Knight.
Arise Sir Thomas Urswick, our Recorder of London and
Knight.
Now tell me which is Master Shore.
Mayor. This same, my lord ;
And hand to hand he fought with Falconbridge*
King. Shore, kneel thou down. What call ye else
his name?
Rec. His name is Matthew Shore, my lord.
Kmg. Shore I
Why kncePst thou not, and at thy Sovereign's hand
Receive thy right ?
Shore. Pardon me, gracious lord.
I do not stand contemptuous, or despising
Such royal favour of my sovereign,
But to acknowledge mine unworthiness.
Far be it from the thought of Matthew Shore
That he should be advanc'd with Aldermen,
With our Lord Mayor, and our right grave Recorder.
If any thing hath been perform'd by me,
That may deserve your Highness' meanest respect,
I have enough, and I desire no more ;
Then let me crave that I may have no more.
King* Well, be it as thou wilt 3 some other way
We will devise to 'quittance thy deserts,
And not to fail therein, upon my word.
Now let me tell ye, all my friends at once,
Your King is married, since you saw him last,
And haste to help you in this needful time
Made me on sudden to forsake my bride.
But seeing all things are fallen out so well,
And there remains no further doubt of ill,
Let me entreat you would go boot yourselves,
34 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II.
And bring your King a little on his way.
How say you, my lord ; shall it be so ?
Mayor. Now God forbid but that my lord the King
Should always have his subjects at command !
Jos. Forbid, quotha ! Ay, in good sadness : your ma-
jesty shall find us always ready, and so forth.
King. Why, then, set forward, gentlemen ;
And come, lord Mayor, I must confer with you.
[JExeunt.
SCENE III. The same.
Enter FALCQNBRIDGE and SPICING, with their iveapons
in their hands.
Spi. Art thou the man whose victories drawn at sea
FilFd every heart with terror of thy name ?
Art thou that Neville whom we took thee for ?
Thou art a louse, thou bastard Falconbridge !
Thou baser than a bastard, in whose birth
The very dregs of servitude appear.
Why, tell me, liver of some rotten sheep,
After, by thy allurements, we are brought
To undertake this course, after thy promises
Of many golden mountains to ensue,
Is this the greatest comfort thou can'st give ?
Hast thou ensnar'd our heedless feet with death,
And brought us to the gibbet of defame,
And now dost bid us shift and save ourselves !
No, craven ! were I sure I should be ta'en,
I would not stir my feet, until this hand
Had veng'd me on thee for misguiding us.
FaL Opprobrious villain ! stable excrement !
That never dream'dst of other manhood yet,
But how to jerk a horse, until my words
Infus'd into thee resolution's fire,
SCENE III. KING EDWATID IV. 35
Controirst thou me for that wherein thyself
Art only the occasion of mishap ?
Hadst thou and they stood to't as well as I,
The day had been our own, and London now,
That laughs in triumph, should have wept in tears.
But, being back'd by such faint-hearted slaves,
No marvel if the Lion go to wrack.
As though it were not incident to kings
Sometime to take repulse : mine is no more.
Nor is it for that muddy brain of thine
To tutor me how to digest my loss.
Then, fly with those that are already fled,
Or stay behind, and hang all but the head.
Spi. Oh, prejudice to Spicing's conquering name,
Whose valour ev'n the hacks this sword has made
Upon the flint and iron bars at Aldgate,
Like mouths will publish whiles the city stands,
That I shrunk back ! that I was never seen
To show my manly spleen but with a whip !
I tell thee, Falconbridge, the least of these
Do challenge blood, before they be appeas'd.
FaL Away, ye scoundrel ! tempt not my resolve.
The courage that survives in Falconbridge
Scorns the encounter of so base a drudge.
Spi. By the pure temper of this sword of mine,
By this true flesh and blood that gripes the same,
And by the honour I did win of late,
Against those frosty-bearded citizens,
It shall be tried before we do depart,
Whether accuseth other wrongfully,
Or which of us two is the better man.
Fal* I shall but quit the hangman of a labour :
Yet, rather than to be upbraided thus,
The Eagle once will stoop to feed on carrion.
[Theyjight.
36 THE FIRST PART OF ACT If.
Enter CHUB.
Chub. Hold, if ye be men ; if not, hold as ye are,
rebels and strong thieves, I bring ye news of a procla-
mation. The King hath promised that whosoever can
bring the head of Falconbridge or Spicing, shall have
for his labour a thousand crowns. What mean you
then to swagger ? Save yourselves.
SpL This proclamation comes in happy tim e.
I'll vanquish Falconbridge, and with this sword
Cut off his head and bear it to tlje King.
So not alone shall I be pai'doned,
But have the thousand crowns is promised.
FaL This rascal was ordain 'd to save my life.
For now, when I have overthrown the wretch,
Ev'n with his head I'll yield me to the King.
His princely word is past to pardon me ;
And, though I were the chief in this rebellion,
Yet this will be a means to make my peace.
Chub. Oh, that I knew how to betray them both I
FaL How say'st thou, Spicing ? wilt thou yield thyself?
For I have vow'd either alive or dead
To bring thee to King Edward.
Spi. And I have vow'd the like by thee :
How will these two bad contraries agree ?
Chub. And I the same by both of you.
FaL Come, sir, I'll quickly rid you of that care.
Spi. And what thou lottest me shall be thy share.
Enter a Miller.
Chub. Hfire comes a miller. Help to part the fray.
These are the rebels Falconbridge and Spicing.
The worst of them is worth a thousand crowns.
MIL Marry, and such a booty would I have.
Submit, submit; it is in vain to strive.
[Exit FALCONBRIDGE.
SCENE III. KING EDWAftD IV. 37
Spi. Why, what art thou ?
Mil. One that will hamper you.
But what's the other that is fled away ? -
Chub. Oh 3 miller, that was Falconbridge,
And this is Spicing, his companion.
Spi. I tell thee, miller, thou hast been the means
To hinder the most charitable deed
That ever honest Christian undertook.
Chub. Thou cannest bear me witness, I had ta'en
That most notorious rebel., but for him.
Mil. But I have taken thee ; and the world knows
That Spicing is as bad as who is best.
Spi. Why, thou mistakest : I am a true subject.
Chub. Miller, he lies : be sure to hold him fast.
Spi. Dost thou accuse me ? apprehend him too,
For he's as guilty as any of us.
Mil. Come, you shall both together answer it
Before my Lord Mayor; and here he comes.
Lord Mayor, JOSSELIN, and Attendants,
Mayor. Sir Ralph Jossolin, have you ever seen a
prince more affable than Edward is ? What merry talk
he had upon the way !
Jos. Doubtless, my lord, he'll prove a royal King.
But how now ; what are these ?
Mil. God save your honour !
Here I present unto you, my Lord Mayor,
A pair of rebels, whom I did espy
As I was busy grinding at my mill ;
Aud taking them for vagrant idle knaves,
That had beset some true man from his house,
I came to keep the peace ; but afterward
Found that it was the bastard Falconbridge
And this his mate, together by the ears.
The one, for all that I could do, escaped ;
The other standeth at your mercy here.
38 THE FIRST PART QJf ACT II.
Mayor. It is the rebel Spicing.
Spi . It is indeed ;
I see you are not blind ; you know me then.
Mayor. Well, miller, thou hast done a subject's part,
And worthily deserv'st that recompence
Is publickly proclaimed by the King.
But what's this other ? I have seen his face ;
And, as I take it, he is one of them.
Mil. I must confess, I took them both together.
He aided me to apprehend the rest.
Chub. A tells you true, my lord. I am Chub, the
chandler; and I curse the time that ever I saw their
faces \ for, if they had not been, I had lived an honest
man in mine own country, and never come to this.
Spi. Out, rogue ! dost thou recant for fear of death ?
Ay, mayor, I am he that sought to cut your throat ;
And since I have miscarried in the fact,
Til ne'er deny it, do the worst you can.
Mayor. Bring him away. He shall have martial law,
And, at the next tree we do come unto,
Be hang'd, to rid the world of such a wretch.
Miller, thy duty is a thousand marks,
Which must be shared betwixt thee and this poor fellow
That did reveal him. And, sirrah, your life is sav'd
On this condition, that you hang up Spicing.
How saist thou ? wilt thou do it ?
Chub. Will I do it ? what a question is that ! I would
hang him if he were my father, to save mine own life.
Mayor. Then, when ye have done it, come home to
my house, and there ye truly shall have your reward.
Spi. Well, sirrah, then thou must be my hangman ?
Chub. Ay, by my troth, sir, for fault of a better.
Spi. Well, commend me to little Pirn, and pray her
to redeem my paned hose : they lie at the Blue Boar for
eleven pence, and if my hostess will have the other odd
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV, 39
penny, tell her she is a damned bawd, and there is no
truth in her score.
Chub. Take no thought, sir, for your paned hose.
They are lousy, and not worth the redeeming.
Spi. There is a constable sticks in my mind : he got
my sword from me, that night I should have killed black
Ralph. If I had lived, I would have been meet with him.
Chub. Ay, sir \ but here's a thing shall take an order
for that.
Spi. Commend me to black Luce, bouncing Bess, and
lusty Kate, and the other pretty morsels of man's flesh.
Farewell, pink and pinnace, flyboat and carvel, Turnbull
and Spittal ! I die like a man.
Chub. Oh, captain Spicing, thy vain enticing
Brought me from my trade,
From good candles-making to this pains-taking,
A rebel to be made.
Therefore, Ned Spicing, to quit thy enticing,
This must be thy hope :
By one of thy fellows to be led to the gallows,
To end in a rope. . [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. The Country.
Enter HOBS, the Tanner of Tamsworth.
Hobs. Dudgeon ! dost thou hear ? look well to Brock,
my mare. Drive Dun and her fair and softly down the
hill 5 and take heed the thorns tear not the horns of my
cow-hides, as thou goest near the hedges. Ha, what
sayest thou, knave ? Is the bull's hide down ? why, lay
it up again ; what care I ? I'll meet thee at the style,
and help to set all strait. And yet, God help ! it's a
crooked world, and an unthrifty ; for some, that have
40 THE FIRST PART OF ACT Til.
ne'er a shoe, had rather go barefoot than buy clout-
leather to mend the old, when they can buy no new ; for
they have time enough to mend all, they sit so long be-
tween the cup and the wall. Well, God amend them !
God amend them ! Let me see, by my executor here,
my leather pouch, what I have taken, what I have spent,
what I have gained, what I have lost, and what I have
laid out. My taking is more than my spending, for
here's store left. I have spent but a groat $ a penny for
my two jades, a penny to the poor, a penny pot of ale,
and a penny cake for my man and me, a dicker of cow-
hides cost me.
Enter the Queen and Duchess with their riding
unpinning their masks. HOBS goes forward.
^Snails, who comes here ? Mistress Ferris, or Mistress
What call ye her ? Put up, John Hobs : money tempts
beauty.
Duch. Well met, good fellow : saw'st thou not the hart?
Hobs, My heart ? God bless me from seeing my heart.
Duch. Thy heart ? the deer, man ; we demand the deor.
Hobs. Do you demand what's dear ? Marry, corn and
cow-hides. Mass, a good snug lass, well like my daughter
Nell. I had rather than a bend of leather she and I
might smoueh together.
Duch. Cam'st thou not down the wood ?
Hobs. Yes, mistress ; that I did.
DucJi. And sawest thou not the deer itnbost ?
Hobs. By my hood, ye make me laugh. What the
dickens ? is it love that makes ye prate to me so fondly ?
By my father's soul, I would I had job'd faces with you.
Hunts. Why, how now, Hobs? so saucy with the
Duchess and the Queen ?
Hobs. Much Queen, I trow ! these be but women : and
one of them is like my wench. 1 would she had her
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 41
rags. I would give a load of hair and horns, and a fat of
leather, to match her to some justice, by the meg- holly.
Hunts. Be silent. Tanner, and ask pardon of the
Queen.
Hobs* And ye be the Queen, I cry ye mercy, good
M istressQueen.
Queen. No fault, my friend. Madam, let's take our bows,
And in the standing seek to get a shoot.
DucJi. Come, bend our bows, and bring the herd of
deer. [Exeunt.
Hobs, (solus.) God send ye good standing, and good
striking, and fat flesh ! See, if all gentlewomen bejipt
alike when their black faces be on ! I took the queen,
as I am a true tanner, for mistress Ferris.
Enter SELLING ER and HOWARD (in green).
Soft, who comes here ? more knaves yet ?
Bel. Ho, good fellow ! sawest thou not the King ?
Hobs. No, good fellow ! I saw no king. Which king-
dost thou ask for ?
How. Why, King Edward. What king is there else ?
Hobs. There's another king, and ye could hit on him ;
one Harry, one Harry ; and, by our Lady, they say he's
the lionoster man of the two.
Scl Sirrah, beware you speak not treason.
Hobs. What, if I do?
Sel. Then shalt thou be hanged.
Hobs. A dog's death : I'll not meddle with it ; for, by
my troth, I know not when I speak treason, when I do
not. There's such halting betwixt two kings, that a
man cannot go upright, but he shall offend t'one of them*
I would God had them both, for me.
How. Well, thou sawest not the King.
Hobs. No ; is he in the country ?
How. He's hunting here, at Drayton Basset.
42 THE FIRST TART OF ACT III.
Hobs. The devil he is ? God bless his mastership ! I
saw a woman here, that they said was the Queen. She's
as like my daughter, but my daughter is the fairer, as
ever I see,
Set. Farewell, fellow ; speak well of the King.
[Exeunt.
Hods. (Solus.} God make him an honest man .' I hope
that's well spoken; for, by the mouse-foot, some give
him hard words, whether he 'zerves 'em not. Let him
look to that. I'll meddle of my cow-hide, and let the
world slide.
Enter the King, disguised*
The devil in a dung- cart f How these roysters swarm
in the country, now the King is so near ! God 'liver me
from this 5 for this looks like a thief 5 but a man cannot
tell amongst these court-nols who's true.
King. Holla, my friend ! good fellow, prithee, stay.
Hobs. No such matter. I have more haste of my way.
King. If thou be a good fellow, let me borrow a word.
Hobs. My purse, thou meanest. I am no good fellow $
and I pray God thou beest not one.
King. Why ? dost thou not love a good fellow ?
Hobs. No : good fellows be thieves.
King, Dost thou think I am one ?
Hobs. Thought is free $ and thou art not my ghostly
father.
King. I mean thee no harm.
Hobs. Who knows that but thyself? I pray God he
spy not my purse.
King. On my troth, I mean thee none.
Hobs. Upon thy oath, I'll stay. Now, what sayest
thou to me ? speak quickly ; for my company stays for
me beneath, at the next style.
King. The king is hunting hereabouts. Didst thou
see his Majesty ?
SCENE I. KING BDWABD IV. 43
Hobs. His majesty? what's that? his horse or his
mare ?
King. Tush I I mean his Grace ?
Hobs. Grace, quotha ? pray God he have any ! Which
king dost thou 'quire for ?
King. Why, for King Edward. Knowest thou any
more kings than one ?
Hobs. I know not so many; for I tell thee I know
none. Marry, I hear of King Edward.
King. Didst thou see his Highness ?
Hobs, By my holidame, that's the best term thou
gavest him yet : he's high enough ; but he has put poor
King Harry low enough.
King. How low hath he put him ?
Hobs. Nay, I cannot tell ; but he has put him down,
for he has got the crown ; much good do't him with it..
King. Amen. I like thy talk so well, I would I knew
thy name.
Hobs. Dost thou not know me ?
King. No.
Hobs. Then thou knowest nobody. Didst never hear
of John Hobs, the tanner of Tamworth ?
King. Not till now, I promise thee \ but now I like
thee well.
Hobs. So do not I thee. I fear thou art some out-
rider, that lives by taking of purses here, on Basset's
Heath. But I fear thee not, for I have wared all my
money in cowhides at Coleshill Market, and my man and
my mare are hard by at the hill-foot.
King. Is that thy gray mare, that's tied at the style,
with the hides on her back ?
Hobs. That's Brock, my mare; and there's Dun, my
nag, and Dudgeon, my man.
King* There's neither man nor hor&x* ; but only one
mare.
44 THE FIRST TART OF ACT ill.
Hobs. God's blue budkin ! has the knave served me so ?
Farewell ! I may lose hides, horns, and mare and all, by
prating with thee.
King. Tarry, man, tarry ! they'll sooner take my geld-
ing than thy gray mare 5 for I have tied mine by her.
Hobs. That will I see, afore Til take your word.
King. I'll bear thee company.
Hobs. I had as lieve go alone, [Exeunt.
Re-enter the two Huntsmen, with the Boivs.
First Hunts. Now, on my troth, the Queen shoots pass-
ing well.
Sec. Hunts. So did the Duchess, when she was as young.
First Hunts. Age shakes the hand, aud shoots both
wide and short.
Sec. Hunts. What have they given us ?
First Hunts. Six rose-nobles just.
Sec. Hunts. The Queen gave four.
first Hunts. True ; and the Duchess twain.
Sec. Hunts. Oh, were we ever so paid for our pain !
First Hunts. Tut 1 had the King come, as they said
he would,
He would have rain'd upon us showVs of gold.
Sec. Hunts. Why, he is hunting somewhere hereabout.
Let's first go drink and then go seek him out. \Exeunt*
Re-enter the King and HOBS.
King. Hay say'st thou, tanner? wilt thou take my
courser for thy mare ?
Hobs. Courser, calPst thou him? So ill mought I
fare, thy skittish jade will never abide to carry my
leather, my horns, nor hide. But, if I were so mad to
scorce, what boot would'st thou give me ?
King. Nay, boot that's boot worthy. I look for boot
of thee.
SCENE T. KINO EDWARD TV. 45
Hobs. Ha, ha ! a merry jig. Why, man, "Brock, my
mare, knows ha and ree, and will stand when I cry ?w,
and let me get up and down, and make water when I do.
King. Fll give thee a noble, if I like her pace. Lay
thy cowhides on my saddle, and let's jog towards Drayton.
Hobs. 'Tis out of my way ; but I begin to like thee well.
King. Thou wilt like me better before we do part.
I prithee tell me, what say they of the King.
Hobs. Of the Kings, thou meanest. Art thou no blab,
if I tell thee ?
King. If the King know't not now, he shall never
know it for me.
Hobs. Mass, they say King Harry's a very advowtry man .
King. A devout man ? And what King Edward ?
Hobs. He^s a frank franion, a merry companion, and
loves a wench well. They say he has married a poor
widow, because she's fair.
King. Dost thou like him the worse for that ?
Hobs. No ; by my feckins, but the better ; for, though
I be a plain tanner, I love a fair lass myself,
King. Prithee tell me, how love they king Edward ?
Hobs. Faith, as poor folks love holidays, glad to have
them now and then ; but to have them come too often
will undo them. So, to see the King now and then 'tis
comfort ; but every day would beggar us ; and I may
say to thee, we fear we shall be troubled to lend him
money 5 for we doubt he's but needy.
King. Wouldst thou lend him no money, if he should
need?
Hobs. By my halidome, yes. He shall have half my
store 3 and I'll sell sole leather to help him to more.
King. Faith, whether thou lovest better Harry or
Edward?
Hobs. Nay, that's counsel, and two may keep it, if
one be away.
46 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III.
King. Shall I say my conscience ? I think Harry is
the true king.
Hobs. Art advised of that ? Harry's of the old house
of Lancaster ; and that progenity do I love.
King. And thou dost not hate the house of York ?
Hobs. Why, no ; for I am just akin to Sutton Wind-
mill ; I can grind which way soe'er the wind blow. If
it be Harry, I can say, fe Well fare, Lancaster." If it
be Edward, I can sing, " York, York, for my money. 5 '
King. Thou art of my mind ; but I say Harry is the'
lawful king. Edward is but an usurper, and a fool, and
a coward.
Hobs. Nay, there thou liest. He has wit enough and
courage enough. Dost thou not speak treason ?
King. Ay, but I know to whom I speak it.
Hobs. Dost thou ? Well, if I were constable, I should
be forsworn, if I set thee not in the stocks for it.
King. Well, let it go no further; for 1 did serve King-
Harry, and I love him best, though now I serve King
Edward.
Hobs. Thou art the arranter knave to speak ill of thy
master. But, sirrah, what's thy name ? what office hast
thou ? and what will the King do for thee ?
King. My name is Ned. I am the King's butler ; and
he will do more for me than for any nobleman in the
court.
Hobs. The devil he will ? he's the more fool ; and so
I'll tell him, if e'er I see him ; and I would I might see
him in my poor house at Tamworth.
King. Go with me to the Court, and I'll bring thee to
the King; and what suit soe'er thou have to him, Til
warrant thee to speed.
Hobs. I ha' nothing to do at Court. I'll home with
my cowhides ; and if the King will come to me, he shall
be welcome.
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 47
King. Hast them no suit touching thy trade, to trans-
port hides or sell leather only in a certain circuit; or
about bark, or such like, to have letters patent ?
Hobs. By the mass and the matins, I like not those
patents. Sirrah, they that have them do, as the priests
did in old time, buy and sell the sins of the people. So
they make the King believe they mend what's amiss, and
for money they make the thing worse than it is. There's
another thing in too, the more is the pity.
King* What pity, John Hobs ? I prithee say all.
Hobs. Faith, 'tis pity that one subject should have in
his hand that might do good to many through the land.
King. Say*st thou me so, tanner? Well, let's cast
lots whether thou shalt go with me to Drayton, or I go
home with thee to Tamworth.
Hobs. Lot me no lotting. I'll not go with thee. If
thou wilt go with me, 'cause th'art my liege's man (and
yet I think he has many honester), thou shalt be welcome
to John Hobs ; thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon,
and perhaps a bag-pudding ; and my daughter Nell shall
pop a posset upon thee, when thou goest to bed.
King. Here's my hand. Til but go and see the King
s* -ved, and I'll be at home as soon as thyself.
Hobs. Dost thou hear me, Ned ? If I shall be thy host,
Make haste thou art best, for fear thou kiss the post.
[Exit HOBS.
King. Farewell, John Hobs, the honest true tanner !
I see plain men, by observation
Of things that alter in the change of times,
Do gather knowledge $ and the meanest life
Proportioned with content sufficiency,
Is merrier than the mighty state of kings.
Enter HOWARD and SELLINGEK.
How now? what news bring ye, sirs ? Where's the Queen ?
48 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III.
SeL Her highness and your mother, my dread lord,
Are both invited by Sir Humphrey Bowes,
Where they intend to feast and lodge this night ;
And do expect your grace's presence there.
King. Tom Bellinger and I have other business,
Astray from you and all my other train.
I met a tanner, such a merry mate,
So frolick and so full of good conceit,
That I have given my word to be his guest,
Because he knows me not to be the King.
Good cousin Howard, grudge not at the jest,
But greet my mother and my wife from me ;
Bid them be merry : I must have my humour 5
Let them both sup and sleep when they see time.
Commend me kindly to Sir Humphrey Bowes :
Tell hiin at breakfast I will visit him.
This night Tom Sellinger and I must feast
With Hobs the tanner : there plain Ned and Tom ;
No King nor Sellinger for a thousand pound.
Enter a Messenger, booted, with letters, and, kneeling,
gives tliem to the King.
How. The Queen and Duchess will be discontent,
Because his highness comes not to the feast.
SeL Sir Humphrey Bowes may take the most conceit 5
But what's the end ? the King will have his pleasure.
King. Good news, my boys I Harry the Sixth is dead.
Peruse that letter. Sirrah, drink you that.
[Gives the Messenger his purse.
And stay not ; but post back again for life,
And thank my brother Gloster for his news :
Commend me to him ; I'll see him to-morrow night.
How like ye it, sirs ? [Exit Messenger.
SeL Oh, passing well, my liege;
You may be merry for these happy news,
SCENK II. KING EDWARD IV. 49
King. The merrier with our host the tanner, Tom.
My lord, take you that letter to the ladies ;
Bid them be merry with that second course ;
And if we see them not before we go.
Pray them to journey easily after us ;
We'll post to London : so good night, my lord. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Tanner's House.
Enter HOBS and his daughter NELL.
Hobs. Come, Noll ! come, daughter. Is your hands
and your face washed ?
NelL Ay, forsooth, father.
Hobs. Ye must be cleanly, I tell ye $ for there comes
a courtnol hither to-night, the King's mastership's but-
ler, Ned, a spruce youth ; but beware ye be not in love
nor overtaken by him, for courtiers be slippery lads.
NelL No, forsooth, father.
Hobs. God's blessing on thee ! That half-year's school-
ing at Litchfield was better to thee than house and land.
It has put such manners into thee "Ay, forsooth,"
and "No, forsooth," at every word. Ye have a clean
smock on. I like your apparel well. Is supper ready ?
Nell. Ay, forsooth, father.
Hobs. Have we a good barley bag-pudding, a piece of
fat bacon, a good cow-heel, a hard cheese, and a brown
loaf?
Nell. All this, forsooth, and more. Ye shall have a
posset j but indeed the rats have spoiled your hard cheese.
Hobs. Now, the devil choke them ! So they have eat
me a farthing candle the other night.
Dudgeon (ivithiri) . What, master, master !
Hobs. How now, knave? what say'st thou, Dudgeon?
Dud. Here's guests come. Where's Helen ?
Hobs. What guests be they ?
SO THE FIRST PART OF ACT III.
Dud. A courtnol; one Ned, the King's butcher, he
says, and his friend too.
Hobs. Ned, the King's butcher ? Ha, ha ! the King's
butler. Take their horses and walk them, and bid thorn
come near house. Nell, lay the cloth, and clap supper
o' th' board. [Exit NELL.
Enter King EDWAHD and SELLINGER.
Mass., here's Ned, indeed, and another misproud ruffian.
Welcome, Ned ! I like thy honesty j thou keopest promise,
King. I'faith, honest tanner, I'll ever keep promise
with thee- Prithee, bid my friend welcome.
Hobs. By my troth, ye are both welcome to Tamworth.
Friend, I know not your name.
Sel. My name is Tom Twist.
Hobs. Believe, ye that list. But ye are welcome both ;
and I like ye both well but for one thing.
Sel. What's that ?
Hobs. Nay, that I keep to myself; for I sigh to see
and think that pride brings many one to extraction.
King. Prithee, tell us thy meaning.
Hobs. Troth, I doubt ye ne'er came truly by all these
gay rags. 'Tis not your bare wages and thin fees ye
have of the King can keep ye thus fine ; but either ye
must rob the King privily, or his subjects openly, to
maintain your probicality.
Sel. Think *st thou so, tanner ?
Hobs. 'Tis no matter what I think. Como, let's go
to supper. What Nell ! What Dudgeon ! Where bo
these folks?
Enter NELL and DUPGEON, with a table covered.
Daughter, bid my friends welcome.
Nell. Ye are welcome, gentlemen, as I may say.
SeL I thank ye, fair maid. [Both kiss her.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 51
King. A pretty wench, by my fay !
Hobs. How likest her, Ned?
King. I like her so well, I would ye would make me
your son-in-law.
Hobs. And I like thee so well, Ned, that, hadst thou
an occupation (for service is no heritage ; a young cour-
tier, an old beggar), I could find in my heart to cast her
away upon thee ; and if thou wilt forsake the court and
turn tanner, or bind thyself to a shoemaker in Litch-
field, I'll give thee twenty nobles ready money with my
Nell, and trust thee with a dicker of leather to set up
thy trade.
SeL Ned, he offers ye fair, if ye have the grace to
take it.
King* He does, indeed, Tom : and hereafter I'll tell
him more.
Hobs. Come, sit down to supper: go to, Nell: no
more sheep's eyes : ye may be caught, I tell ye : these
be liquorish lads.
Nell. I warrant ye, father 5 yet in truth Ned is a very
proper man, and t'other may serve ; but Ned's a pearl
in mine eye.
Hobs. Daughter, call Dudgeon and his fellows. We'll
have a three-men song, to make our guests merry.
[Exit NELL.
Nails, what courtnols are ye ? ye'll neither talk nor eat.
What news at the court? Do somewhat for your
meat.
King. Heavy news there : King Henry is dead.
Hobs. That's light news and merry for your master,
King Edward.
King. But how will the Commons take it ?
Hobs. Well, God be with good King Henry !
Faith, the Commons will take it as a common thing.
Death's an honest man $ for he spares not the King.
E 2
52 THE FIRST PART OF ACT HI.
For as one comes, another's ta'en away \
And seldom comes the better, that's all we say.
Sel. Shrewdly spoken, tanner, by my fay !
Hobs. Come, fill me a cup of mother Whetstone's
ale 3
I may drink to my friends and drive down my tale.
Here, Ned and Tom, I drink to ye ; and yet, if I come
to the court, I doubt you'll not know me.
King. Yes, Tom shall be my surety, tanner ; I will
know thee.
Sel. If thou dost not, Ned, by my troth, I beshrew
thee.
King. I drink to my wife that may be.
SeL Faith, Ned, thou mayest live to make her a lady.
King. Tush ; her father offers nothing, having no more
children but her.
Hobs. I would I had not, condition she had all. But
I have a knave to my son ; I remember him by you ;
even such an unthrift as one of you two, that spends all
on gay clothes and new fashions 5 and no work will down
with him, that I fear he'll be hanged. God bless you
from a better fortune ! yet you wear such filthy brocks*
Lord, were not this a good fashion ? yes, and would save
many a fair penny.
King. Let that pass, and let us hear your song.
Hobs. Agreed, agreed ! Come, sol, sol, sol, fa, fa, fa !
Say, Dudgeon.
Here they sing the three-man's Sony.
Agincourt, Agincourt ! know ye not Agincourt ?
Where the English slew and hurt
All the French foemen ?
With our Guns and Bills brown,
Oh, the French were beat down,
Morris-pikes and Bowmen.
&c.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 53
SeL Well sung, good fellows ! I would the King
heard ye !
Hobs. So should I, faith ; I should strain a note for
him. Come, take away, and let's to bed. Ye shall have
clean sheets, Ned 5 but they be coarse, good strong
hemp, of my daughter's own spinning ; and I tell thee,
your chamber-pot must be a fair horn, a badge of our
occupation ; for we buy no bending pewter, nor break-
ing earth.
King. No matter, Hobs ; we \vill not go to bed.
Hobs. What then ?
King. Even what thou wilt ; for it is near day.
Tanner, gramercies for our hearty cheer !
If e'er it be thy chance to come to court,
Enquire for me, Ned, the King's butler,
Or Tonij of the King's chamber, niy companion,
And see what welcome we will give thee there.
Hobs. I have heard of courtiers have said as much as
you, and when they have been tried, would not bid their
friends drink.
SeL We are none such. Let our horses be brought
out ; for we must away 5 and so, with thanks, farewell !
Hobs. Farewell to ye both ! Commend me to the
King ; and tell him I would have been glad to have seen
his worship here. [Exit.
King. Come, Tom, for London ! horse, and hence
away ! [Exeunt*
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Southampton.
Enter SIR HENRY MORTON, the Vice-Admiral 9 and the
Captain of the Isle of Wight, with FALCONBRIDGE-
bound, the Headsman bearing the axe before him.
Mor. Thomas Neville, yet hast tliou gracious time
Of dear repentance. Now discharge thy conscience j
54 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV,
Lay open thy offences to the world.
That we may witness thou dost die a Christian.
FaL Sir Harry Morton, why have you arraigned,
Condemn'd, and brought me to this place
Of bloody execution, and now ask
If I be guilty ? Therein doth appear
What justice you have used. Call you this law ?
Copt. Thou dost mistake our meaning, Falconbridge !
We do not ask as being ignorant
Of thy transgression, but as urging thee
To hearty sorrow for thy vile misdeeds,
That Heaven may take compassion on thy soul.
FaL How charitable you would seem to be !
I fear anon you'll say it is for love
You bind me thus, and bring me to the block,
And that of mere affection you are mov'cl
To cut my head off. Cunning policy !
Such butchers as yourselves never want
A colour to excuse your slaughterous minds.
Mor. We butcher thee ! canst thou deny thyself
But thou hast been a pirate on the sea ?
Canst thou deny but, with the commonalty
Of Kent and Essex, thou didst rise in arms,
And twice assault the city London, where
Thou twice didst take repulse ? and, since that time,
Canst thou deny that, being fled from hence,
Thou joined'st in confederacy with Prance,
And cam'st with them to burn Southampton hero ?
Are these no faults, thou shouldst so much presume
To clear thyself, and lay thy blood on us ?
FaL Hear me, Sir Harry, since we must dispute !
Copt. Dispute ! Uncivil wretch ? what needs dispute ?
Did not the Vice-Admiral here and I,
Encountering with the navy of the French,
Attach thee in a ship of Normandy ;
SCENE I. KINt* EDWARD IV. SS
And wilt thou stand upon thine innocence ?
Despatch ! thou art as rightfully condemn'd
As ever rebel was. And thou shalt die,
FaL IP-make no question of it, I must die ;
But let me tell you how I scorn your threats.
So little do I reckon of the name
Of ugly Death, as, were he visible,
I'd wrestle with him for the victory,
And tug the slave, and tear him with my teeth,
But I would make him stoop to Falconbridge ;
And for this life, this paltry brittle life,
This blast of wind, which you have laboured so,
By juries, sessions, and I know not what,
To rob me of, is of so vile repute,
That, to obtain that I might live mine age,
I would not give the value of a point.
You cannot be so cruel to afflict,
But I will be as forward to endure.
Mor. Go to ! leave off these idle braves of thine,
And think upon thy soul's health, Falconbridge.
Capt. Submit, and ask forgiveness of thy King.
FaL What king?
Mor. Why, Edward, of the house of York.
FaL He is no king of mine. He doth usurp ;
And, if the destinies had given me leave,
I would have told him so before this time,
And pulTd the diadem from off his head,
Mor. Thou art a traitor. Stop the traitor's mouth.
FaL I am no traitor : Lancaster is King.
If that be treason to defend his right,
What is't for them that do imprison him ?
If insurrection to advance his sceptre,
What fault is their's that step into his throne ?
Oh, God ! thou pourM'st the balm upon his head ;
Can that pure unction be wip*d off again?
56 THE FIRST PART OF ACT TV.
Thou once didst crown him in his infancy ;
Shall wicked men now in his age depose him ?
Oh, pardon me, if I expostulate
More than becomes a sinful man to do !
England ! I fear thou wilt thy folly rue.
Copt. Thou triflest time, and dost but weary us
With dilatory questions. Make an end.
FaL Indeed, the end of all kingdoms must end ;
Honour and riches all must have an end $
And he that thinks he doth the most prevail,
His head once laid, there resteth but a tale-
Come, fellow, do thy office. What, metldnks,
Thou look'st as if thy heart were in thy hose.
Pull up thy spirits : it will be quickly done ;
A blow, or two at most, will serve the turn.
Head. Forgive me, sir, your death.
FaL Forgive thee ? Ay, and give thee, too.
Hold ; there is some few crowns for thee to drink-
Tush ! weep not, man : give losers leave to plain :
And yet, i'faith, my loss I count a gain.
First, let me see, is thy axe sharp enough ?
I am indifferent. Well, a God's name, to this gear.
Head. Come, and yield your head gently to the
block.
FaL Gently, say'st thou ? thou wilt not uso me so.
But all is one for that. What strength thou hast,
Throughout the whole proportion of thy limbs,
Revoke it all into thy manly arras,
And spare me not. I am a gentleman,
A Neville, and a Falconbridge beside :
Then do thy work : thou mayst get credit by it ;
For, if thou dost not, I must tell thee plain,
I shall be passing angry when 'tis done.
Head. I warrant you, sir : none in the land shall do it
better.
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 57
FaL Why, now thou pleasest me. England, farewell !
And, old Plantaganet, if thou survive,
Think on rny love, although it did not thrive.
[He is led forth.
Mor. As for his head, it shall be sent with speed
To London, and the promised reward
Allotted for the apprehending him,
Be given unto the poor of Southampton here*
How say you, captain ; are you so content ?
Capt. With all my heart ; but I do marvel much
We hear not of the messenger we sent,
To give the King intelligence of this.
MOT. Take truce with your surmises. Here he
comes.
Enter a Messenger.
Fellow, it seems that thou art slow of gait,
Or very negligent in our affairs.
What says King Edward to our service done ?
Mes. To answer you directly and as briefly,
I spoke not with him ; for when I was come
To Drayton Basset, where they said he was,
*Twas told me there, that ev'n the night before,
His highness in all haste was rid to London,
The occasion, Henry's death within the Tower,
Of which the people are in sundry tales.
Some thinking he was murder'd, some again
Supposing that he died a natural death.
Mor. Well, howsoever, that concerns not us.
We have to do with no man's death but his,
That for high treason here hath lost his head.
Come, let us give direction as before,
And afterward make back unto the shore.
[Exeunt.
58 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV.
SCENE II. London. The Mayor's House.
Enter the Lord Mayor 9 in his scarlet gown, with a gilt
rapier by his side.
Mayor. Ay, marry, Crosby ! this befits thee well.
But some will marvel that, with scarlet gown,
I wear a gilded rapier by my side :
Why, let them know, I was knighted in the field
For my good service to my lord the King ;
And therefore I may wear it lawfully
In court, in city, or at any royal banquet.
But soft, John Crosby ! thou forget'st thyself,
And dost not mind thy birth and parentage ;
Where thou wast born, and whence thou art derived.
I do not shame to say the Hospital
Of London was my chiefest fost'ring place :
There did I learn that, near unto a Cross,
Commonly call'd Cow Cross, near Islington,
An honest citizen did chance to find me :
A poor shoemaker by his trade he was ;
And, doubting of my Christendom or no,
CalTd me according to the place he found me,
John Crosby, finding me so by a cross.
The Masters of the Hospital, at further years,
Bound me apprentice to the grocer's trade,
Wherein God pleas'd to bless my poor endeavours,
That, by his blessing, I am come to this.
The man that found me I have well requited,
And to the Hospital, my fostering place,
An hundred pound a year I give for ever.
Likewise, in memory of me, John Crosby,
In Bishopsgate Street, a poor House have I built,
And, as my name, have calTd it Crosby House.
And when as God shall take me from this life,
In little Saint Helen's I will be buried.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 59
All this declares I boast not of my birth ;
And found on earth, I must return to earth.
But God., for his pity ! I forget myself :
The King, my sovereign lord, will come anon,
And nothing is as yet in readiness.
Where are ye, cousin Shore? nay, where is mistress
Shore ?
Oh, I am sorry that she stays so long !
See what it is to be a widower,
And lack a lady Mayoress in such need !
Enter SHORE and JANE SHORE.
Oh, are ye come ? Welcome, good cousin Shore !
But you indeed are welcome, gentle niece !
Needs must you be our lady Mayoress now,
And help us j or else we are sham'd for ever.
Good cousin, still thus am I bold with you.
S/iore. With all my heart, my lord, and thank ye
too,
That ye do please to use our homely help.
Mayor. Why, see how neatly she bestirs herself,
And, in good sooth, makes huswifery to shine !
Ah, had my lady Mayoress liv'd to see
Fair Mistress Shore thus beautify her house,
She would have been not little proud thereof.
Jane. Well, my lord Mayor, I thank you for that
flout:
But let his highness now come when he please,
All things are in a perfect readiness.
[They bring fwth a table, and serve in the banquet.
Mayor. The more am I beholding, niece, to you,
That take such pains to save our credit now.
My servants are so slack, his majesty
Might have been here before we were prepared.
But peace ! here conies his highness !
60 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV.
Trumpets. Enter King EDWARD, HOWARD, SELLINGEH,
and the train.
King. Now, my lord Mayor, have we uot kept our
word?
Because we could not stay to dine with you,
At our departure hence, we promised,
First food we tasted at our back return
Should be with you ; still yielding hearty thanks
To you and all our London citizens,
For the great service which you did perform
Against that bold-fac^d rebel, Falconbridge.
Mayor. My gracious lord, what then we did,
We did account no more than was our duty,
Thereto obliged by true subjects' zeal 3
And may he never live that not defends
The honour of his King and Country !
Next thank I God, it likes your majesty
To bless my poor roof with your royal presence.
To me could come no greater happiness.
King. Thanks, good lord Mayor 3 but where's my lady
Mayoress ?
I hope that she will bid us welcome, too.
Mayor. She would, my liege, and with no little joy,
Had she but liv'd to see this blessed day ;
But in her stead this gentlewoman here,
My cousin's wife, that office will supply.
How say you, Mistress Shore ?
King. How ! Mistress Shore ! what, not his wife
That did refuse his knighthood at our hand ?
Mayor. The very same, my lord \ and here he is.
King. What, master Sliore, we are your debtor still;
But, by God's grace, intend not so to die ;
And, gentlewoman, now before your face,
I must condemn him of discourtesy 5
Yea, and of great wrong he hath oft'er'd you $
SCENE IT. KING EDWARD IV. 61
For you had been a Lady but for him.
He was in fault 5 trust me, he was to blame,
To hinder virtue of her due by right.
Jane. My gracious Lord, my poor and humble thoughts
Ne'er had an eye to such unworthiness 5
And though some hold it as a maxim,
That women's minds by nature do aspire,
Yet how, both God and Master Shore, I thank
For my continuance in this humble state,
And likewise how I love your majesty
For gracious sufferance that it may be so,
Heav*n bear true record of my inmost soul !
Now it remains, on my lord Mayor's behalf,
I do such duty as becometh me,
To bid your highness welcome to his house.
Were welcome's virtue powerful in my word,
The King of England should not doubt thereof.
King. Nor do I, Mistress Shore. Now, my lord Mayor,
Edward dare boldly swear that he is welcome.
You spake the word well, very well, i'faith :
But Mistress Shore her tongue hath gilded it.
Tell me, cousin Howard, and Toin Bellinger,
Had ever citizen so fair a wife ?
Hoiv. Of flesh and blood I never did behold
A woman every way so absolute.
SeL Nor I, my liege. Were Bellinger a King,
He could afford Shore's wife to be a queen.
King, Why, how now, Tom ? Nay, rather, how now,
Ned?
What change is this? proud, saucy, roving Bye,
What, whisper'st in my brain that she is fair ?
I know it, I see it : fairer than my Queeu?
Wilt thou maintain it ? What, thou traitor Heart,
Wouldst thou shake hands in this conspiracy ?
Down, rebel ; back, base, treacherous conceit j
62 THE FIRST PATIT OP ACT IV.
I will not credit thee. My Bess is fair,
And Shore's wife but a blowze, compared to her.
Come, let us sit ; here will I take my place.
And, my lord Mayor, fill me a bowl of wine,
That I may drink to your elected Mayoress ;
And, master Shore, tell me how like you this ?
My lord Mayor makes your wife his lady Mayoress.
Shore. So well, my lord, as better cannot be,
All in the honour of your majesty.
\TJie Lord Mayor brings a bowl of wine, and offers it
to the King on his knees.
King. Nay, drink to us, Lord Mayor; well have
it so.
Go to, I say ; you are our taster now.
Drink, then, and we will pledge ye.
Mayor. All health and happiness to my sovereign !
[drinks.
King. Fill full our cup ; and, lady Mayoress,
This full carouse we mean to drink to you 5
And you must pledge us ; but yet no more
Than you shall please to answer us withall.
. [Drinks, and the trumpets sound. Then wine is pre-
sented to her, and she offers to drink.
Nay, you must drink to somebody ; yea, Tom,
To thee ! Well, sirrah, see you do her right.
For Edward would : oh, would to God he might !
Yet, idle Eye, wilt thou be gadding still ?
Keep home, keep home, for fear of further ill.
Enter a Messenger, with letters.
How now ? Letters to us ! From whom ?
Mes. My liege, this from the Duke of Burgundy,
And this is from the Constable of France.
King, What news from them ? (Reads.)
To claim our right in France ;
SCENE II. KINft EDWARD IV. 63
And they will aid us. Yea, will ye so ?
But other aid must aid us, ere we go.
[Seems to read the letters^ but glances on
Jane Shore while reading.
A woman's aid, that hath more power than France
To crown us, or to kill us with mischance.
If chaste resolve he to such beauty tied.
Sue how thou canst, thou wilt be still denied.
Her husband hath deserved well of thee :
Tut ! love makes no respect, where'er it be.
Thou wrong'st thy Queen : every enforced ill
Must be endur'd, where beauty seeks to kill.
Thou seem'st to read, only to blind their eyes,
Who, knowing it, thy folly would despise.
[Starts from table.
Thanks for my cheer, Lord Mayor ! I am not well :
I know not how to take these news this fit, I mean,
That hath bereft me of all reason clean.
Mayor. God shield my Sovereign !
King. Nay, nothing. I shall be well anon.
Jane. May it please your highness, sit.
King. Ay, fain with thee. Nay, we must needs be
gone.
Cousin Howard, convey these letters to our Council \
And bid them give us their advice of them.
Thanks for my cheer, Lord Mayor ! farewell to you !
And farewell, mistress Shore ! Lady Mayoress, I should
say !
*Tis you have caused our parting at this time.
Farewell, master Shore ! farewell to all !
We'll meet once more, to make amends for this.
[Exeunt Kinffy HOWARD, and BELLINGER.
Mayor. Oh, God ! here to be ill !
My house to cause my Sovereign's discontent !
Cousin Shore, I had rather spent
64 THE FIRST PART OF ACT TV.
Shore. Content yourself, my lord ! Kings have their
humours.
The letters did contain somewhat, no doubt.
That did displease him.
Jane. So, my lord, think I.
But, by God's help, he will be well again.
Mayor. I hope so, too. Well, cousin, for your pains,
I can but thank ye : chiefly you, fair niece.
At night, I pray ye, both come sup with me.
How say ye ? will ye ?
Shore. Yes, my lord, we will.
So, for this time, we humbly take our leave.
[Exeunt Shore and Wife.
Mayor. Oh, how the sudden sickness of my liege
Afflicts my soul with many passions !
His highness did intend to be right merry ;
And God he knows how it would glad my soul,
If I had seen his highness satisfied
With the poor entertainment of his Mayor,
His humble vassal, whose lands, whose life, and all,
Are, and in duty must be always, his.
Well, God,- 1 trust, will bless his grace's health,
And quickly ease him of his sudden fit.
Take away there, ho ! rid this place \
And God of heaven bless my sovereign's grace ! {Exit.
SCENE III. Shore's Shop. The sign of the Pelican.
Enter two Apprentices, preparing the GoldsmitWs
Shop with plate.
First Ap. Sirrah Jack, come set out.
Sec. Ap. You are the elder prentice ! I pray you do it,
lest my mistress talk with you when she comes down.
What is it o'clock ?
First Ap. Six, by Allhallows !
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 65
Sec. Ap. Lying and stealing will bring ye to the gal-
lows. Is here all the plate ?
First Ap. Ay, that must serve to-day. Where is the
weights and balance ?
Sec, Ap. All ready. Hark, my mistress comes.
\Exit First Ap.
Enter JANE SHORE, ^u^th her work in her hand.
Jane. Sir boy ! while I attend the shop myself,
See if the workman have despatched the cup.
How many ounces weighs it ?
Sec. Ap. Twenty, forsooth.
Jane. What said the gentleman to the fashion ?
Sec. Ap. He told my master. I was not within.
Jane. Go, sir, make haste. Your master's in Cheap-
side.
Take heed (ye were best) your loitering be not spied.
[Exit Sec. Ap.
Manet Jane, sewing. Enter the King before the shop,
disguised.
King. Well fare a case to put a king in yet.
Good mistress Shore ! this doth your love procure :
This shape is secret $ and I hope 'tis sure.
The watermen that daily use the Court,
And see me often, knew me not in this.
At Lion-quay I landed in their view,
Yet none of them took knowledge of the King.
If any gallant strive to have the wall,
I'll yield it gently. Soft ; here must I turn ;
Here's Lombard Street, and here's the Pelican ;
And there's the phoenix in the pelican's nest.
Oh, rare perfection of rich Nature^s work !
Bright twinkling spark of precious diamond,
Of greater value than all India !
66 THE FIRST PART OP ACT IV.
Were there no sun, by whose kind, lovely heat,
The earth brings forth those stones we hold of price,
Her radiant eyes, dejected to the ground,
Would turn each pebble to a diamond.
Gaze, greedy eyes 5 and be not satisfied
Till you find rest where heart's desire doth bide I
Jane. What would you buy, sir, that you look on here ?
King. Your fairest jewel, be it not too dear.
First, how this sapphire, mistress, that you wear ?
Jane. Sir, it is right 5 that will I warrant ye.
No jeweller in London shows a better.
King. No, nor the like ; you praise it passing well.
Jane. Do I? No; if some lapidary had the stone,
more would not buy it than I can demand. 'Tis as well
set, I think, as e'er ye saw.
King. 'Tis set, indeed, upon the fairest hand that o'er
I saw.
Jane. You are dispos'd to jest. But for value, his
majesty might wear it.
King. Might he, i'faith?
Jane. Sir, 'tis the ring I mean,
King. I meant the hand.
Jane. You are a merry man :
I see you come to cheap, and not to buy.
King. Yet he that offers fairer than Fll do,
Shall hardly find a partner in his bargain.
Jane. Perhaps, in buying things of so small value,
King. Bather^ because no wealth can purchase it.
Jane. He were too fond, that would so highly prize
The thing which once was given away for love.
King. His hap was good that came so easily by it.
Jane. The gift so small, that (ask'd) who could deny it.
King. Oh, she gave more, that such a gift then gave.
Than earth e'er had, or world shall ever have,
Jane. His hap is ill, should it be as you say,
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 67
That, having given him what you rate so high,
And yet is still the poorer by the match.
King. That easily proves he doth not know the worth.
Jane. Yet, having had the use of it so long,
It rather proves you over-rate the thing,
He being a chapman, as it seems you are.
King, Indeed, none should adventure on the thing,
That's to be purchased only by a king.
Jane. If kings love that which no one else respects,
It may be so; else do I see small reason
A king should take delight in such coarse stuff.
King. Lives there a king that would not give his
crown
To purchase such a kingdom of content ?
Jane. In my conceit, right well you ask that question :
The world, I think, contains not such fond king.
King. Why, mistress Shore, I am the man will do it.
Jane. Tis proudly spoke, although I'd not believe it 9
Were he king Edward that should offer it.
King. But shall I have it ?
Jane. Upon what acquaintance ?
King. Why, since I saw you last.
Jane. Where was that ?
King* At the Lord Mayor's, in presence of the King.
Jane. I have forgotten that I saw you there ;
For there were many that I took small note of.
King. Of me you did, and we had some discourse.
Jane. You are deceived, sir ; I had then no time,
For my attendance on his majesty.
King. Til gage my hand unto your hand of that.
Look well upon me. [Discovers Jiimself*
Jane. Now, I beseech you, let this strange disguise
Excuse my boldness to your majesty. [Kneels.
Whatever we possess is all your highness* ;
Only mine honour, which I cannot grant.
68 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV.
King. Only thy love, bright angel ! Edward craves;
For which I thus adventured to see thee.
Enter SHORE.
Jane. But here comes one to whom I only gave it ;
And he, I doubt, will say you shall not have it.
King. Am I so soon cut off? Oh, spite !
How say you, mistress ; will you take my offer ?
Jane. Indeed, I cannot, sir, afford it so.
King. You'll not be offered fairlier, I believe.
Jane. Indeed, you offer like a gentleman ;
But yet the jewel will not so be left.
Shore. Sir, if you bid not too much under-foot,
I'll drive the bargain 'twixt you and my wife.
King, (aside.} Alas, good Shore, myself dare answer
No.
Nothing can make thee such a jewel forego.
(Aloud.) She saith you shall be too much loser by it.
Shore. See in the Row, then, if you can speed better.
King. See many worlds arow, affords not like.
[Exit. As he is going ^ Shore perceives it is the King,
whereat he seems greatly discontented.
Jane. Why look'st thou, Mat ? know'st thou the
gentleman ?
Alas ! what ails thoe, that thou look'st so pale ?
What cheer, sweetheart ? alas ! where hast thou been ?
Shore. Nay, nothing, Jane. Know you the gentleman ?
Jane. Not I, sweetheart. Alas ! why do you ask ?
Is he thine enemy ?
Shore. I cannot tell.
What came he here to cheapen at our shop ?
Jane. This jewel, love.
Shore. Well, I pray God he camo for nothing else.
Jane. Why, who is it ? I do suspect him, Shore,
That you demand thus doubtfully of me.
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 69
Shore. Ah, Jane, it is the King.
Jane. The King! what then? is it for that thou
sighest ?
Were he a thousand kings, thou hast no cause
To fear his presence, or suspect my love.
Shore. I know I have not. See, he comes again.
Re-enter the King, muffled in his cloak.
King. Still is my hind'rer there ! be patient, heart !
Some fitter season must assuage thy smart.
What ! will ye take that, mistress, which I offered ye ?
1 come again, sir, as one willing to buy.
Jane. Indeed, I cannot, sir \ I pray ye
Deal with my husband. Hear what he will say.
Shore. Til sell it worth your money, if you please.
I pray you, come near, sir.
King. T am too near already, thou so near.
Nay, nay, she knows what I did offer her \
And, in good sadness, I can give no more.
So fare ye well, sir ; Til not deal with you. [Exit. '
Jane. You are deceiv'd, sweetheart. 'Tis not the
King.
Think you he would adventure thus alone ?
Shore. I do assure thee, Jane, it is the King.
Oh, God ! 'twixt the extremes of love and fear,
In what a shiv'ring ague sits my soul !
Keep we our treasure secret, yet so foud
As set so rich a beauty as this is
In the wide view of ev'ry gazer's eye !
Oh, traitor beauty, oh, deceitful good !
That dost conspire against thyself and love :
No sooner got, but wish'd again of others I
In tliine own self injurious to thy self !
Oh, rich, poor portion ! thou good evil thing !
How many joyful woes still dost thou bring !
70 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV.
Jane. I prithee, come, sweet love, and sit by me.
No king that's under heaven I love like fchee. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The Country.
Enter Sir HUMPHREY BOWES and ASTON, two Justices,
HARRY GRUDGED ROBERT GOODFELLOW, HADLAND,
and HOBS.
Bowes. Neighbours and friends ! the cause that you
are called
Concerns the King's most excellent majesty,
Whose right, you know, by his progenitors,
Unto the crown and sovereignty of France,
Is wrongfully detained by the French ;
Which to revenge and royally regain,
His highness means to put himself in arms,
And in his princely person to conduct
His warlike troops against the enemy.
But for his coffers are unfurnished,
Through civil discord and intestine war,
Whose bleeding scars our eyes may yet behold,
He prays his faithful, loving subjects* help,
To further this his just, great enterprize.
Hobs. So the'feck and meaning, whereby, as it were,
of all your long purgation, Sir Humphrey, is no more,
in some respect, but the King wants money, and would
have some of his commonty.
Bowes. Tanner, you rightly understand the matter.
Ast. Note this, withal j where his dread majesty,
Our lawful sovereign and most royal king,
Might have exacted or imposed a tax,
Or borrow'd greater sums than we can spare,
(For all we have is at his dread command)
He doth not so ; but mildly doth entreat
Our kind benevolence, what we will give,
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 71
With willing minds, towards this mighty charge,
Enter LORD HOWARD.
Which to receive, his noble counsellor
And kinsman, the Lord Howard, here is come.
How. Now, good Sir Humphrey Bowes and Master
Aston,
Have ye declared the King's most gracious pleasure ?
Bowes. We have, my lord.
How. His highness will not force
As loan or tribute, but will take your gift
In grateful part, and recompence your love.
Bowes. To show my love, though money now be scarce,
A hundred pound I'll give his majesty.
How. 'Tis well, Sir Humphrey.
Ast. I a hundred marks.
How. Thanks, master Aston ; you both show your love.
Now ask your neighbours what they will bestow.
Bowes. Come, master Hadland, your Benevolence.
Had. Oh, good Sir Humphrey, do not rack my purse.
You know my state : I lately sold my land.
Ast. Then you have money : let the King have part.
Hobs. Ay, do, master Hadland, do. They say ye sold
a foul deal of dirty land for fair gold and silver. Let
the King have some now, while you have it 5 for, if ye be
forborne a while, all will be spent $ for he that cannot
keep land, that lies fast, will have much ado to hold
money : 'tis slippery ware ; 'tis melting ware $ 'tis melt-
ing ware.
How. Gramercy 3 tanner !
Bowes. Say, what shall we have ?
Had. My forty shillings.
Ast. Robert Goodfellow,
I know you will be liberal to the King.
Good. O, Master Aston 1 be content, I pray ye :
72 THE FIRST PART OF ACT TV.
You know my charge; my household very great; '
And my housekeeping holds me very bare ;
Three score uprising and downlying, sir.
Spends no small store of victuals in a year ;
Two brace of grayhounds, twenty couple of hounds ;
And then my jades devour a deal of corn ;
My Christmas cost ; and then my friends that corne,
Amounts to charge ; I am Robin Goodfellow,
That welcomes all and keeps a frolick house.
I have no money. Pray ye, pardon me.
How. Here's a plain tanner can teach you how to
thrive.
Keep fewer dogs, and then ye may feed men :
Yet feed no idle men ; 'tis needless charge :
You that on hounds and hunting-mates will spend,
No doubt but something to your King you'll lend.
Good. My brace of angels : by my troth, that's all.
Hobs. Mass, and 'tis well the curs have left so much*
I thought they would have eaten up thy house and land
ere this,
Bowes. Now, Harry Grudgen.
Grud. What would you have of mo ? Money, I have
none ; and 1*11 sell no stock. Here's old polling, subsidy,
fifteen, soldiers and to the poor ! And you may have
your will, you'll soon shut me out a door.
Hobs. Hear ye, worships ! will ye let me answer my
neighbour Grudgen ? By my halidome, Harry Grudgen !
th'art but a grumbling, grudging churl : thou hast two
ploughs going, and ne'er a cradle rocking ; th'ast a peck
of money, go to ; turn thee loose ; thou'lt go to law with
the vicar for a tythe goose, and wilt not spare the King
four or five pound.
Grud. Gep, goodman Tanner, are ye so round ? your
prolicateness has brought your son to the gallows almost.
You can be frank of another man's cost.
SCEttE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 73
Hobs. Th'art no honest man, to twit me with my son :
he may outlive thee yet, for aught that he has done : my
son's i'th* gaol: is he the first has been there? And
thou wert a man, as th'art a beast, I would have thee by
the ears. [Weeps.
How. Friend, thou want'st nurture to upbraid a father
With a son's fault. We sit not here for this.
What's thy benevolence towards his majesty ?
Hobs. His benegligence ? hang him, he'll not give a
penny willingly.
Grud. I care not much to cast away forty pence.
How. Out, grudging peasant ! base, ill-nurtur'd
groom !
Is this the love thou bear'st unto the King ?
Gentlemen, take notice of the slave ;
And if he fault, let him be soundly plagued.
Now, frolick tanner, what wilt thou afford ?
Hobs. Twenty old angels and a score of hides ; if that
be too little, take twenty nobles more. While I have it,
my King shall spend of my store.
How. The King shall know thy loving liberal heart.
Hobs. Shall he, i'faith ? I thank ye heartily : but
hear ye, gentlemen, you come from the court ?
How. I do.
Hobs. Lord, how does the King ? and how does Ned,
the King's butler, and Tom, of his Chamber ? I am sure
ye know them.
How. They do very well.
Hobs. For want of better guests, they were at my
house one night.
How. I know they were.
Hobs. They promised me a good turn for kissing my
daughter Nell ; and now I ha' cazion to try them. My
son's in Dybell here, in Caperdochy, i* tha gaol, for peep-
ing into another man's purse 3 and, outstep the King be
74 THE PIRST PART OF ACT V.
miserable, he's like to totter. Can that same Ned, the
butler, do any thing with the King ?
How. More than myself, or any other lord.
Hobs. A halter, he can ! by my troth, ye rejounce my
heart to hear it.
How. Come to the Court : I warrant thy son's life :
Ned will save that, and do thee greater good.
Hobs. I'll wean Brock, my mare's foal, and come up
to the King $ and it shall go hard but two fat hens for
your pains I will bring.
Bowes. My lord, this fellow gladly now will give
Five pounds, so you will pardon his rude speech.
How. For five and five I cannot brook the beast.
Orud. What gives the tanner ? I am as able as ho.
Ast. He gives ten pound.
Gruel. Take twenty then of me.
I pray ye, my lord, forgive my rough-heav'd speech.
I wis, I meant no hurt unto my liege.
Bowes. Let us entreat your lordship's patience.
How. I do, at your request, remit the offence 5
So let's depart : here's all we have to do.
Ast. *Tis, for this time and place, my lord.
Sirrah, bring your money.
Hobs. What have you saved now, good man Grudgen,
by your hinching and your pinching? not the worth of a
black pudding. \Eoceunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. Shore's House.
Enter JANE SEOBE and Mrs. BLAGUE.
Mrs. Bla. Now, mistress Shore, what urgent cause is
that
Which made ye send for mo in such great haste ?
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 75
I promise ye, it made me half afraid
You were not well.
Jane. Trust me, nor sick nor well,
But troubled still with the disease I told ye.
Here is another letter from the King.
Was never poor soul so importuned?
Mrs. Bla. But will no answer serve ?
Jane. No, mistress Blague \ no answer will suffice.
He, he it is, that with a violent siege
Labours to break into my plighted faith.
Oh, what am I, he should so much forget
His royal state and his high majesty ?
Still doth he come disguised to my house,
And in most humble terms bewrays his love.
My husband grieves : alas ! how can he choose ?
Fearing the dispossessment of his Jane.
And when he cannot come (for him) he writes,
OfTring, beside, incomparable gifts ;
And all to win me to his princely will.
Mrs. Bla. Believe me, Mistress Shore^ a dangerous
case 5
And every way replete with doubtful fear.
If you should yield, your virtuous name were soiled,
And your beloved husband made a scorn 5
And if not yield, 'tis likely that his love,
Which now admires ye, will convert to hate ;
And who knows not, a prince's hate is death ?
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye :
Good mistress Shore, do what ye will for me.
Jane. Then counsel me what I were best to do.
Mrs. Bla. You know, his greatness can dispense with ill,
Making the sin seem lesser by his worth ;
And you yourself, your children, and your friends,
Be all advanced to worldly dignity ;
And this world's pomp, you know, 's a goodly thing.
76 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye :
Good mistress Shore, do what ye will for me.
Jane. Alas ! I know that I was bound by oath
To keep the promise that I made at first $
And virtue lives, when pomp consumes to dust.
Mrs, Bla. So we do say, dishonour is no shame.
When slander does not touch th* offender's name.
You shall be folded in a prince's arms.
Whose beck disperseth ev'n the greatest harms.
Many, that sit themselves in high degree,
Will then be glad to stoop and bend the knee.
And who is't, having plenty in his hand,
(Never commanded, but doth still command)
That cannot work in such excess of things,
To quit the guilt one small transgression brings ?
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye :
Good mistress Shore, do what ye will for me.
Jane. Here do I live, although in mean estate,
Yet with a conscience free from all debate ;
Where higher footing may in time procure
A sudden fall, and mix my sweet with sour.
Mrs. Bla. True, I confess a private life is good,
Nor would I otherwise be understood.
To be a goldsmith's wife is some content 3
But days in court more pleasantly are spent.
A household"^ government deserves renown,
But what is a companion to a crown ?
The name of Mistress is a pretty thing,
But Madam at each word doth glory bring.
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye :
Good Mistress Shore, do what ye will for me.
Jane. Oh, that I knew which were the best of twain,
Which for I do not, I am sick witii pain !
Enter her Boy.
How now, sir boy, what is the news with you ?
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 77
Boy. The gentleman, forsooth, the other day,
That would have bought the jewel at our stall,
Is here to speak with ye.
Jane. Oh, God ! it is the King.
Good mistress Blague, withdraw ye from this place :
1*11 come anon, so soon as he is gone.
And, sirrah, get you to the shop again. [Exit Boy.
Mrs. Bla. Now, mistress Shore, bethink ye what to do.
Such suitors come not evVy day to woo. \Exit.
Enter the King^ in his former disguise.
King. Thou may'st convict me, beauty's pride, of
boldness,
That I intrude like an unbidden guest ;
But, Love being guide, my fault will seem the less.
Jane. Most welcome to your subject's homely roof!
The foot, my sovereign, seldom doth offend^
Unless the heart some other hurt intend.
King. The most thou see'st is hurt unto myself:
How for thy sake is majesty disrob'd !
Riches made poor and dignity brought low,
Only that thou might'st our affection know !
Jane. The more pity, that, within the sky,
The sun that should all other vapours dry,
And guide the world with his most glorious night,
Is muffled up himself in wilful night.
King. The want of thee, fair Cynthia, is the cause.
Spread thou thy silver-brightness in the air,
And strait the gladsome morning will appear.
Jane. I may not wander. He, that guides my car,
Is an immovfed, constant, fixfed Star.
King. But I will give that Star a Comet's name,
And shield both thee and him from further blame.
Jane. How if the Host of Heav'n at this abuse
Repine ? who can the prodigy excuse ?
78 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
King. It lies within the compass of my power,
To dim their envious eyes, dare seem to lour.
But, leaving this our enigmatic talk,
Thou must, sweet Jane, repair unto the Court.
His tongue entreats, controls the greatest peer :
His hand plights love, a royal sceptre holds ;
And in his heart he hath confirmed thy good,
Which may not, must not, shall not be withstood.
Jane. If you enforce me, I have nought to say ;
But wish I had not liv'd to see this day.
King. Blame not the time. Thou shalt have cause to
Jane, in the ev'ning I will send for thee,
And thou and thine shall be advanc'd by me :
In sign whereof, receive this true-love kiss.
Nothing ill meant, there can be no amiss. [Exit.
Jane. Well, I will in ; and ere the time begin,
Learn how to be repentant for my sin. [Exit*
SCENE II. The Mayor's House.
Enter Lord May or 9 SHORE, and EMERSLHY.
Mayor. But, cousin Shore ! are ye assured it was the
King you saw in such disguise ?
Shore. Do I know you, the uncle of my wife ?
Know I Frank Emersley, her brother here ?
So surely do I know that counterfeit
To be the King.
Em. Well, admit all this,
And that his majesty, in such disguise,
Please to survey the manner of our city,
Or what occasion else ma like himself:
Methinks you have small reason, brother Shore,
To be displeased thereat.
Mayor. Oh, I have found him now.
SCKNE II. KING EDWARD IV. 79
Because my niece, his wife, is beautiful,
And well respected for her virtuous parts,
He, in his fond conceit, misdoubts the King
Doth doat on her, in his affection.
I know not, cousin, how she may be chang'd,
By any cause in your procuring it,
From the fair carriage of her wonted course \
But well I wot, I have oft heard you say,
She merited no scruple of mislike,
If now some giddy fancy in your brain
Make you conceive sinisterly of her,
And with a person of such difference,
I tell you, cousin, more for her respect
Than to soothe you in such a sottishness,
I would reveal ye open to the world,
And let your folly justly plague yourself.
Shore. Uncle, you are too forward in your rage,
And much mistake me in this suddenness.
Your niece's reputation have I prized,
And shrin&d as devoutly in my soul,
As you or any that it can concern.
Nor when I tell you that it is the King
Comes muffled like a common serving-man,
Do I infer thereby my wife is false,
Or swerves one jot from wonted modesty*
Though in my shop she sit, more to respect
Her servants* duty, than for any skill
She doth, or can pretend, in what we trade,
Is it not strange, that, ever when he comes,
It is to her, and will not deal with me ?
Oh, uncle, Frank, nay, would all her kin
Were here, to censure of my cause aright.
Though I misdeem not her, yet give me leave
To doubt what his sly walking may intend.
And let me tell ye, he that is possess'd
80 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
Of such a beauty, fears undermining guests j
Especially a mighty one, like him.
Whose greatness may gild over ugly sin.
But say his coming is not to my wife.
Then hath he some sly aiming at my life,
By false compounded metals, or light gold,
Or else some other trifle to be sold.
When kings themselves so narrowly do pry
Into the world, men fear ; and why not I ?
Em. Believe me, brother, in this doubtful case,
I know not well how I should answer ye.
I wonder, in this serious busy time
Of this great gathered Benevolence
For his regaining of his right in France,
The day and nightly turmoil of his lords,
Yea, of the whole estate in general,
He can be spared from these great affairs,
And wander here disguised in this sort.
But is not this your boy ?
Enter Boy.
Shore. Yes, marry, is it. How now 3 what news with
thee?
Boy. Master, my mistress, by a nobleman,
Is sent for to the King, in a close coach.
She's gone with him. These are the news I bring.
Mayor. How ! my niece sent for to the King ?
By a nobleman, and she is gone with him ?
Nay, then, I like it not.
Em. How ! gone, say'st thou ?
Shore. Be patient, uncle ! storm not, gentle Frank.
The wrong is mine. By whom ? A king.
To talk of such it is no common thing.
She is gone, thou say'st?
Boy. Yes, truly 5 sir : 'tis so.
SCENE TTI. KING EDWARD IV. 81
Shore. I cannot help it ; a God's name, let her go.
You cannot help it, uncle ; no, nor you.
Where kings are meddlers^ meaner men must rue.
I storm against it ? no 5 farewell, Jane Shore !
Once thou wast mine ; but must be so no more.
Mayor. Gone to the Court I [Exit.
Shore. Yet, uncle, will ye rage ?
Let mine example your high heart assuage.
To note offences in a mighty man
It is enough ; amend it he that can.
Frank Emersley ! my wife thy sister was ;
Lands, goods* and all I have, to thee I pass,
Save that poor portion, must along with me,
To bear me from this badge of obloquy.
It never shall be said that Matthew Shore
A king's dishonour in his bonnet wore.
Em. Good brother.
Shore. Strive not to change me, for I am resolved,
And will not tarry. England, fare thou well !
And, Edward, for requiting me so well
But dare I speak of him ? forbear, forbear.
Come, Frank, I will surrender all to thee,
And then abroad, where'er my fortune be. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Palace.
Enter King EDWABJD, HOWARD, SELLINGEE, <rc.
King. And have our country-subjects been so frank
And bountiful in their Benevolence
Toward our present expedition ?
Thanks, cousin Howard, for thy pains herein :
We will have letters sent to ev'ry shire
Of thankful gratitude, that they may know
How highly we respect their gentleness.
How. One thing, my lord, I had well near forgot :.
82 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
Your pleasant host, the Tanner of Tarn worth.
King. What of him, cousin ?
How. He was right liberal :
Twenty old angels did he send your grace ;
And others, seeing him so bountiful,
Stretch'd further than they otherwise had done.
King. Trust me, I must requite that honest Tanner.
Oh, had he kept his word and come to Court,
Then, in good sadness, we had had good sport.
Sow. That is not long, my lord, which comes at
last.
He's come to London, on an earnest cause*
His son lies prisoner in Stafford Jail,
And is condemned for a robbery.
Your highness' pardoning his son's offence,
May yield the Tanner no mean recompence.
King. But who hath seen him since he came to
town?
Sel. My lord, in Holborn 'twas my hap to see him,
Gazing about I sent away my men ;
And, clapping on one of their livery cloaks,
Came to him ; and the Tanner knew me strait.
"How dost thou, Tom?" and "How doth Ned?"
quoth he ;
" That honest, merry hangman, how doth he ?"
I, knowing that your majesty intended
This day in person to come to the Tower,
There bade him meet me, whereas Ned and I
Would bring him to the presence of the King,
And there procure a pardon for his son.
King. Have then a care we be not seen of him,
Until we be provided for the purpose ;
Because, once more we'll have a little sport.
Tom Sellinger, let that care be yours.
Set I warrant ye, my lord. Let me alone.
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 83
Enter the Lord Mayor.
King. Welcome, lord Mayor ! what, have you signified
Our thankfulness unto our citizens^
For their late-gathered Benevolence ?
Mayor. Before the citizens in our Guildhall,
Master Recorder made a good oration,
Of thankful gratitude unto them all,
Which they received with so kind respect
And love unto your royal majesty,
As it appeared to us they sorrowed
Their bounty to your highness was no more.
King. Lord Mayor, thanks to yourself and them !
And go ye with us now unto the Tower,
To see the order that we shall observe
In this so needful preparation ;
The better may you signify to them
What need there was of their Benevolence.
Mayor. I'll wait upon your gracious majesty.
(Aside.) Yet there is one thing that much grieveth me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The Waterside.
Enter SHORE and two Watermen, bearing his trunks.
Shore. Go, honest fellow 5 bear my trunks aboard ;
And tell the master I'll come presently.
Enter JANE SHORE, lady-like attired, with divers suppli-
cations in her handy she unpinning her Mask, and at-
tended on by many Suitors ; namely, AYRE, PALMER,
JOCKY, RCFFORD, $C.
First Waterman. We will, sir. But what lady have
we here ?
Belike she is of no mean countenance,
That hath so many Suitors waiting on her*
G2
84 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
Shore. Go, one of you, I pray ye, inquire her name.
First Waterman. My honest friend, what Lady call ye
this?
Ayre. Her name is Mistress Shore, the king's beloved $
A special friend to suitors at the court.
Shore. Her name is mistress Shore, the King's beloved !
Where shall I hide my head, or stop mine ears,
But like an owl I shall be wonder'd at ?
When she with me was wont to walk the streets,
The people then, as she did pass along,
Would say, "There goes fair, modest, mistress Shore."
When she attended like a city dame,
Was prais'd of matrons. So that citizens,
When they would speak of aught unto their wives,
Fetched their example still from mistress Shore.
But now she goes deck'd in her courtly robes.
This is not she, that once in seemly black
Was the chaste, sober wife of Matthew Shore 5
For now she is King Edward's concubine.
Oh, great ill title, honourable shame !
Her good I had 3 but, King, her ill is thine :
Once Shore's true wife ; now Edward's concubine.
Amongst the rest, I'll note her new behaviour.
[All this while, she stands conferring privately with her
Suitors, and looking on their bills.
Ayre. Good mistress Shore, remember my son's life*
Jane. What is thy name ?
Ayre. My name is Thomas Ayre.
Jane. There is his pardon, signed by the King.
Ayre. In sign of humble, hearty thankfulness,
Take this, in angels, twenty pound.
Jane. What, think ye that I buy and sell for bribes
His highness' favour, or his subjects' blood ?
No 5 without gifts, God grant I may do good !
For all my good cannot redeem my ill ;
Yet to do good I will endeavour still.
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 85
Shore, (aside.) Yet all this good doth but gild o'er
my ill.
Pal. Mistress, the restitution of my lands.
Taken perforce by his highness' officers.
Jane. The King's content your goods shall be restored.
But the officers will hardly yield thereto.
Yet be content; I'll see ye have no wrong.
Shore, (aside.) Thou can'st not say to me so. I have
wrong.
JocJcy. Mistress, gude faith, gin ye'll help me til my
laund, whilk the false loon, Billy Grime of Glendale, hauds
wrangfully fra me, Ts quite your gudeness with a bonny
nag, sail swum away so deftly as the wind.
Jane. Your suit, my friend, requires a longer time.
Yet, since you dwell so far, to ease your charge,
Your diet with my servants you may take ;
And some relief I'll get thee of the King.
Shore, (aside.) It's cold relief thou gett'st me from
the King.
JocJcy. Now, God's blessing light on that gudely fair
face. I's be your beadsman, mistress ; ay, indeed, sail I.
Pal. God bless the care you have of doing good !
Ayre. Pity she should miscarry in her life,
That bears so sweet a mind in doing good.
Shore, (aside.) So say I, too. Ah, Jane, this kills my
heart,
That thou recks others, and not ru*st my smart.
Sufi Mistress, I fear you have forgot my suit.
Jane. Oh, 'tis for a licence to transport corn
From this land, and lead, to foreign realms.
I had your bill ; but I have torn your bill ;
And 'twere no shame, I think, to tear your ears,
That care not how you wound the commonwealth.
The poor must starve for food, to fill your purse,
And the enemy bandy bullets of our lead !
86 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
No, master Rufford, I'll not speak for you,
Except it be to have you punished.
Jocky. By the mess, a deft lass ! Christ's benison light
on her !
[She espies her husband^ walking aloof \ and
takes him for another Suitor.
Jane. Is that another Suitor ? I have no bill of his.
Go, one of you, and know what he would have.
Shore. Yes, Jane ! the bill of my obliged faith :
And I had thine j but thou hast cancell'd it.
[Here she knows him, and> lamenting^ comes to him.
Jane. Oh, God, it is my husband, kind Matthew
Shore!
Shore. Ah, Jane, what's he dare say he is thy husband ?
Thou wast a wife, but now thou art not so ;
Thou wast a maid, a maid when thou wast wife $
Thou wast a wife, ev'n when thou wast a maid ;
So good, so modest, and so chaste thou wast !
But now thou art divorced, whiles yet he lives,
That was thy husband, while thou wast his wife.
Thy wifehood stain'd, by thy dishonour'd life ;
For now thou art nor widow, maid, nor wife.
Jane. I must confess a I yielded up my fort,
Wherein lay all the riches of my joy ;
But yet, sweet Shore, before I yielded it,
I did endure the long'st and greatest siege
That ever batter'd on poor chastity.
And but to him that did assault the same,
For ever it had been invincible.
But I will yield it back again to tliee.
He cannot blame me, though it be so done,
To lose by me, what first by me was won.
Shore. No, Jane, there is no place allow'd for me,
Where once a king has ta'en possession.
Mean men brook not a rival in their love ;
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 87
Much less so high unrivalFd majesty.
A concubine to one, so great as Edward,
Is far too great to be the wife of Shore.
Jane. I will refuse the pleasures of the Court.
Let me go with thee, Shore, though not as wife,
(Yet as thy slave) since I have lost that name.
I will redeem the wrong that I have done thee,
With my true service, if thou wilt accept it.
Shore. Thou go with me, Jane? Oh, God forbid
That I should be a traitor to my King !
Shall I become a felon to his pleasures,
And fly away, as guilty of the theft ?
No, my dear Jane, I say it may not be.
Oh, what have subjects that is not their kings ?
I'll not examine his prerogative.
Jane. Why, then, sweet Mat, let me entreat thee,
stay.
What is't with Edward that I cannot do ?
I'll make thee wealthier than e'er Richard was,
That entertain'd the three greatest kings in Europe,
And feasted them in London on a day.
Ask what thou wilt ; were it a million,
That may content thee ; thou shalt have it, Shore.
Shore. Indeed, this were some comfort to a man
That tasted want or worldly misery ;
But I have lost what wealth cannot return.
All worldly losses are but toys to mine 5
Oh, all my wealth ! The loss of thee was more
Than ever time or fortune can restore.
Therefore, sweet Jane, farewell ! once thou wast mine 5
Too rich for me 5 and that King Edward knew.
Adieu, O world ! he shall deceived be,
That puts his trust in women or in thee. [Exit.
Jane. Oh, Shore, farewell, poor heart ; in death I'll tell
I ever lov'd thee, Shore ! farewell, farewell ! [Exit.
88 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
SCENE V. The Tower.
Enter King EDWARD, Lord Mayor, HOWARD,
SELLINGER, and the train.
King. Having awak'd forth of their sleepy dens
Our drowsy cannons, which, ere long, shall charm
The watchful French with death's eternal sleep ;
And, all things else in readiness for France,
Awhile we will give truce unto our care.
There is a merry Tanner near at hand,
With whom we mean to be a little merry.
Therefore, Lord Mayor, and you, my worthy friends,
I must entreat you not to knowledge me.
No man stand bare all as companions.
Give me a cloak, that I may be disguised.
Tom Sellinger, go thou and take another.
So, Tanner ! now come when ye please j we are provided.
And in good time \ see, he is come already.
Enter HOBS.
Tom Sellinger, go thou and meet him.
Sel. What, John Hobs ! welcome, i'faith, to Court.
Hobs. Gramercies, honest Tom : where is the hangman,
Ned?
Where is that mad rascal ? shalTI not see him ?
Sel. See where he stands : that same is he.
Hobs. What, Ned? a plague found thee! how dost
thou, for a villain? how dost thou, mad rogue? and
how ? and how ?
King. In health, John Hobs; and very glad to see
thee;
But say, what wind drove thee to London ?
Hobs. Ah, Ned, I was brought hither with a whirlwind,
man: my son, my son ; did I not tell thee I had a knave
to my sou ?
SCENE V, KING EDWARD IV. 89
King. Yes, tanner j what of him ?
Hobs. Faith, lie's in Capperdochy, Ned, in Stafford
Jail, for a robbery 5 and is like to be hanged, except thou
get the King to be more miserable to him.
King. If that be all, tanner, I'll warrant him.
I will procure his pardon of the King.
Hobs. Wilt thou, Ned? for those good words, see
what my daughter Nell hath sent thee : a handkercher
wrought with as good Coventry-silk blue thread, as ever
thou sawest !
King. And I perhaps may wear it, for her sake,
In better presence than thou art aware of.
Hobs. How, Ned? a better present ! that thou can'st
not have, for silk, cloth, and workmanship. Why, Nell
made it, man. But, Ned, is not the King in this com-
pany ? What's he in the long beard and the red petti-
coat ? Before God, I misdoubt, Ned, that is the King.
I know it by my Lord What-ye- call's players.
King. How by them, tanner?
Hobs. Ever when they play an enterlout or a commo-
dity at Tamworth, the King always is in a long beard
and a red gown, like him. Therefore, I 'spect him to
be the King.
King. No, trust me, tanner, this is not the King ;
But thou shalt see the King before thou goest,
And have a pardon for thy son, too, with thee.
This man is the Lord Mayor, Lord Mayor of London.
Here was the Recorder too 5 but he is gone.
Hobs. What nicknames these courtnols have ! Mare
and Corder, quotha ! we have no such at Lichfield.
There is the honest Bailiff and his brethren. Such words
'gree best with us.
King. My lord Mayor, I pray ye, for my sake,
To bid this honest tanner welcome.
Mayor* You aro welcome, my honest friend.
90 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V.
In sign whereof, I pray you see niy house.
And sup with me this night.
Hobs. I thank ye, Goodman Mayor 5 but I care not
for no meat. My stomach is like to a sick swine's, that
will neither eat nor drink till she know what shall be-
come of her pig. Ned and Tom, you promised me a
good turn when I came to Court. Either do it now, or
go hang yourselves.
King. No sooner comes the King, but I will do it.
Bel. I warrant thee, tanner 5 fear not thy son's life.
Hobs. Nay, I fear not his life ; I fear his death.
Enter the Master of St. Katharine's and the Widow
NOUTON.
Master. All health and happiness to my sovereign !
King. The Master of St. Katharine's hath marred all.
Hobs. Out, alas ! that ever I was born !
[Falls into a swoon: they labour to revive Mm,
meamvhile the King puts on Jiis robes.
King. Look to the tanner, there, he takes no harm.
I would not have him (for my crown) miscarry.
Widow. Let me come to him, by my King's good leave.
Here's ginger, honest man 3 bite it.
Hobs. Bite ginger ! bite ginger ! bite a dog's date. I
am but a dead man. Ah, my liege 1 that you should
deal so with a poor well-meaning man : but it makes no
matter $ I can but die.
King. But when, tanner ? can'st thou tell ?
Hobs. Nay, even when you please $ for I have so de-
fended ye, by calling ye plain Ned, mad rogue, and
rascal, that I know you'll have me hanged. Therefore,
make no more ado, but send me down to Stafford, and
there, a God's name, hang me with my son. And here's
another as honest as yourself. You made me call him
plain Tom : I warrant, his name is Thomas, and some
SCENE V. KING EDWARD IV. 91
man of worship too. Therefore, let's to it, even when
and where ye will.
King. Tanner, attend I Not only do we pardon thee,
But in all princely kindness welcome thee ;
And thy son's trespass do we pardon too.
One go and see that forthwith it be drawn
Under our seal of England, as it ought.
And forty pounds we give thee, to defray
Thy charges in thy coming up to London.
Now, tanner, what say'st thou to us ?
Hobs. Marry, you speak like an honest man, if you
mean what you say.
King. We mean it, tanner, on our royal word.
Now, Master of St. Katharine's, what would you ?
Master. My gracious lord, the great benevolence
(Though small to that your subjects could afford)
Of poor St. Katharine's do I bring your grace.
Five hundred pounds here have they sent by me,
For the easier portage, all in angel gold.
What this good widow, mistress Norton, will,
She comes herself, and brings her gift with her.
Widow. Pardon me, gracious lord ! Presumption,
Nor overweening in mine own conceit,
Makes me thus bold to come before your grace ;
But love and duty to your majesty,
And great desire to see my lord the King.
Our Master, here, spake of benevolence,
And said my twenty nobles was enough.
I thought not so 5 but at your highness' feet,
A widow's mite, a token of her zeal,
In humble duty, gives you twenty pound,
King. Now, by my crown, a gallant lusty girl !
Of all the exhibition yet bestowed,
This woman's liberality likes me best.
Is thy name Norton?
Widow. Ay, my gracious liege.
92 FIRST PART OF EDWARD IV. ACT v.
King. How long bast thou been a widow ?
Widow. It is, my lord,
Since I did bury Wilkin, my good man,
At Shrovetide next, ev'n just a dozen years.
King. In all which space, could 'st thou not find a man,
On whom thou might'st bestow thyself again ?
Widoiv. Not any like my Wilkin, whose dear love
I know is matchless : iu respect of whom
I think not any worthy of a kiss.
King. No, widow ? that I'll try. How like you this ?
[Kisses her.
Widow. Beshrew my heart, it was a honey kiss.
Able to make an aged woman young ;
And for the same, most sweet and lovely prince,
See what the widow gives you from her store !
Forty old angels but for one kiss more.
King. Marry, widow, and thou shalt have it. John
Hobs, thou art a widower : lack'st thou such a wife !
Hobs. 'Snails ! twenty pound a kiss ! Had she as
many twenty pound bags as I have knobs of bark in my
tan-fat, she might kiss them away in a quarter of a year.
Til no Saint Katharine's widows, if kisses be so dear.
Widow. Clubs and clouted shoes! there's none ena-
moured here.
King. Lord Mayor, we thank you, and entreat withal
To recommend us to our citizens.
We must for France. We bid you all farewell.
Come, tanner, thou shalt go with us to Court 5
To-morrow you shall dine with my lord Mayor,
And afterward set homeward when ye please.
God and our right that only fights for us !
Adieu ! pray that our toil prove prosperous.
[Exeunt omnes.
THE SECOND
PART OF KING EDWARD THE
FOURTH.
Containing
his iourney into France, for obtaining of
his right there :
The trecherous falshood of the Duke of Bur-
gundie and the Constable of France
vsed against him, and his
returne home
againe.
JLikewise the prosecution of the historic of M.
S hoar ft and his faire -wife.
Concluding- with the lamentable death of them,
both.
PART II.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
ENGLISH.
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.
Lord HOWARD.
Sir THOMAS SELLINGER*
Lord SCALES.
Marquis of DORSET.
Sir ROBERT BRACKENBURY.
Duke of CLARENCE. 1 The King's
Duke of GLOCESTER (afterwards K. R. III). J brothers.
Prince EDWARD. ) r^ T^- .
Prince RICHARD. } The KlD S s Sons '
Duke of BUCKINGHAM*
Captain STRANGUIDGE.
Lord LOVELL.
CATESBY*
TYRRELL.
DlGHTON.
FORREST.
DR. SHAW.
SHORE, disguised as Flood.
Ghost of Friar ANSELM.
AYRE.
RUFFORD.
FAGG.
JOCKY, Jane Shored Man, JEFFREY.
A Herald. A Sheriff.
VAUX, Keeper of the Marshalsea.
The Queen.
JANE SHORE.
Mrs. BLAGUK.
Lady ANN of WARWICK.
FRENCH.
King Louis.
BOURBON.
ST. PIERRE.
MUGEROUN.
CHARLES, Duke of BURGUNDY.
Count ST. PAUL, Constable of FRANCE.
LORD of CONT&
Messengers, Apparitors, Officers, &c.
Scene FRANCE and ENGLAND,
THE SECOND PART
OF
KING EDWARD IT,
ACT I, SCENE I.
France.
Enter King EDWAB.D, HOWARD, BELLINGER, and
Soldiers, marching.
King* Is this the aid our cousin Burgundy
And the great Constable of France assured us ?
Have we march' d thus far through the heart of France,
And with the terror of our English drums
Rous'd the poor trembling French, which leave their
towns,
That now the wolves affrighted from the fields
Do get their prey, and kennel in the streets ?
Our thundering cannons, now this fortnight space,
Like common bellmen in some market town,
Have cried the Constable and Burgundy ;
But yet I see they come not to our aid.
We'll bring them in ; or, by the blessed light !
We'll search the ground-sills of their city's walls.
Since you have brought me hither, I will make
The proudest tower that stands in France to quake.
96 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
I marvel Scales returns not $ for by him
I do expect to hear their resolutions.
Enter the Lord SCALES.
How. My sovereign, he is happily returned.
King. Welcome, my lord 3 welcome, good cousin Scales.
What news from Burgundy? what is his answer ?
What, comes he to our succour, as he promised ?
Scales. Not by his good will. For aught that I can see,
He lingers still in his long siege at Nuse.
I urgM his promise and your expectation,
Ev*n to the force and compass of my spirit.
I cheer'd my firm persuasions with your hopes,
And gilded them with my best oratory :
I framed my speech still fitly, as I found
The temper of his humour to be wrought upon ;
But still I found him earthly, unresolved,
Muddy ; and, methought, even through his eyes,
I saw his wav'ring and unsettled spirit;
And, to be short, subtle and treacherous,
And one that doth intend no good to you.
And " He will come, and yet he wanteth power ;"
" He would fain come, but may not leave the Siege "
ee He hopes he shall, but yet he knows not when "
* e He purposed, but some impediments
Have hinder'd his determined intent."
Briefly, I think he will not come at all.
King. But is he like to take the town of Nuse ?
Scales. My lord, the town is liker to take him ;
That, if he chance to come to you at all,
'Tis but for succour.
King. But what says Count St. Paul ?
Scales. My lord, he lies and revels at Saint Quintin's,
And laughs at Edward's coming into France.
There, domineering with his drunken crew,
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 97
Make jigs of us, and in their slav'ring jests
Tell how like rogues we lie here in the field.
Then comes a slave, one of those drunken sots,
In with a tavern-reckoning for a supplication,
Disguised with a cushion on his head,
A drawer's apron for a herald's coat,
And tells the Count, the King of England craves
One of his worthy honour's dog-kennels,
To be his lodging for a day or two.
With some such other tavern- foolery.
With that, this filthy, rascal, greasy rout
Burst out in laughter at this worthy jest,
Neighing like horses. Thus the Count St. Paul
Regards his promise to your majesty.
King. Will no man thrust the slave into a sack-
but?
Sel. Now, by this light ! were I but near the slave
With a black jack, I would beat out his brains.
How. If it please your highness but to say the word,
We'll pluck him out of Quintin's by the ears.
King. No, cousin Howard ; we'll reserve our valour
For better purpose. Since they both refuse us,
Ourselves will be unrivall'd in our honour.
Now our first cast, my lord, is at main France,
Whilst yet our army is in health and strong ;
And, have we once but broke into that war,
I will not leave St. Paul, nor Burgundy,
Not a bare pig's-cote to shroud them in,.
Herald 1
Her. My sovereign !
King. Go, herald ! and to Lewis, the French king,
Denounce stern war, and tell him I am come
To take possession of my realm of France.
Defy him boldly from us. Be thy voice
As fierce as thunder, to affright his soul.
98 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
Herald, begone, I say ! and be thy breath
Piercing as lightning, and thy words as death 1
Her. I go, my liege, resolv'd to your high will. \Eocit.
King. Sound drum, I say 5 set forward with our power 5
And, France, ere long expect a dreadful hour !
I will not take the English standard down.
Till thou empale my temples with thy crown.
SCENE II. The French King's Palace.
Enter LEWIS, BOURBON, ST. PIERRE, and MUGEROUN,
with the English Herald.
Lewis. Herald of England, we are pleasM to hear
What message thou hast brought us from thy King.
Prepare thyself, and be advised in speech.
Her. Eight gracious and most Christian King of
France !
I come not to thy presence unprepared
To do the message of my royal liege.
Edward the Fourth, of England and of France
The lawful King, and Lord of Ireland,
Whose puissant magnanimous breast incens'd,
Through manifest notorious injuries,
Offer'd by thee, King Lewis, and thy French,
Against his title to the crown of France,
And right in all these dukedoms following,
Aquitain, Anjou, Guyen, Aguileme,
Breathes forth by me, the organ of his speech,
Hostile defiance to thy realm and thee.
And trampling now upon the face of France
With barbed horse and valiant armed foot,
Himself the leader of those martial troops,
Bids thee to battle, where and when thou dar'sl,
Except thou make such restitution
And yearly tribute on good hostages,
SCENE IT. KING EDWARD IV. 99
As may content his just conceived wrath.
And to this message answer I expect.
Lew. Right peremptory is this embassage ;
And were my royal brother of England pleased
To entertain those kind affections
Wherewith we do embrace his amity,
Needless were all these thunder-threat 'ning words.
Let Heaven, where all our thoughts are register'd,
Bear record with what deep desire of peace
We shall subscribe to such conditions
As equity for England shall propound.
If Edward have sustained wrong in France,
Lewis was never author of that wrong ;
Yet, faultless,, we will make due recompence.
We are assured that his majestic thoughts,
In his mild spirit, did never mean these wars,
Till Charles Burgundy, once our fawning friend,
But now our open foe, and Count St. Paul,
Our subject once and Constable of France,
But now a traitor to our realm and us,
Were motives to incite him unto arms,
Which having done, [they] will leave him, on my life.
Her. The King my master recks not Burgundy,
And scorns St. Paul, that treach'rous Constable.
His puissance is sufficient in itself
To conquer France, like his progenitors.
Lew. He shall not need to waste by force of war,
Where peace shall yield him more than he can win.
We covet peace, and we will purchase it
At any rate that reason can demand.
And it is better England join in league
With us, his strong, old, open enemy,
Than with those weak and new dissembling friends.
We do secure us from our open foes,
But trust in friends (though faithless) we repose.
100 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
My lord St. Pierre and cousin Bourbon, speak.
What censure you of Burgundy and St. Paul ?
St. Pierre. Dread lord, it is well known that Burgundy
Made show of tender service to your majesty,
Till, by the engine of his flatteries,
He made a breach into your highness* love ;
Where entered once and thereof full possessed,
He so abus'd that royal excellence
By getting footing into many towns,
Castles, and forts, belonging to your crown,
That now he holds them 'gainst your realm and you.
BOUT. And Count St. Paul, the Constable of France,
Ambitious in that high authority.
Usurps the lands and seigniories of those
That are true subjects, noble peers of France.
Your boundless favours did him first suborn ;
And now to be your liegeman he thinks scorn.
Lew. By this, conjecture the unsteady course
Thy royal master undertakes in France :
And, herald, intimate what fervent zeal
We have to league with Edward and his English.
Three hundred crowns we give thee for reward,
And of rich crimson velvet thirty yards,
In hope thou wilt unto thy sovereign tell
We show thee not one discontented look,
Nor render him one misbeholden word ;
But his defiance and his dare to war,
We swallow with the supple oil of peace ;
Which, gentle herald, if thou canst procure,
A thousand crowns shall justly guerdon thee.
Her. So please it your most sacred majesty,
To send unto my gracious Sovereign
Equal conditions for the bonds of peace
And restitution of his injuries,
His temper is not of obdurate malice.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 301
But sweet relenting princely clemency.
Perform your promise of a thousand crowns,
And second me with some fit messenger.
And I will undertake to work your peace.
Lew. By the true honour of a Christian king,
Effect our peace, and thou shalt have our crowns.
And we will post a herald after thee,
That shall confirm thy speech and our designs.
Go, Mugeroun ; see to this herald given
The velvet and three hundred crowns proposed.
Farewell, good friend ! remember our request,
And kindly recommend us to King Edward.
[Exeunt Herald and Mugerowi.
How think you, lords ? is*t not more requisite
To make our peace, than war with England's power ?
Bour* Yes, gracious lord ; the wounds are bleeding yet
That Talbot, Bedford, and King Henry made,
Which peace must cure, or France shall languish still.
St. Pierre. Besides, my liege, by these intestine foes,
The Constable and treach'rous Burgundy,
The state's in danger, if the English stir.
Re-enter Mugeroun.
Lew. 'Tis perilous and full of doubt, my lords ;
We must have peace with England every way.
Who shall be herald in these high affairs ?
Bour. No better man than Monsieur Mugeroun,
Whose wit is sharp, whose eloquence is sound ;
His presence gracious, and his courage good ;
A gentleman, a scholar, and a soldier j
A complete man for such an embassage !
Art thou content to be employed, Mugeroun,
In this negotiation to King Edward ?
Mug. If your most sacred majesty command,,
Your humble vassal Mugeroun shall go.
102 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
Lew. Gramercies, Mugeroun. But thou must assume
A herald's habit, and his office both,
To plead our love, and to procure us peace
With English Edward, for the good of France.
Mug. I know the matter and the form, my lord.
Give me my herald's coat, and I am gone.
Lew. Thou art a man compos'd for business.
Attend on us for thy instructions,
And other fit supplies for these affairs ;
And for thy diligence expect reward. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Before St. Quintin's.
Enter several ivays, BURGUNDY and the Constable of
France.
Con. Whither away so fast goes Burgundy ?
Bur. Nay, rather, whither goes the Constable ?
Con. Why, to King Edward, man. Is he not come ?
Mean'st thou not likewise to go visit him ?
Bur. Oh, excellent ! I know that in thy soul
Thou know'st that I do purpose nothing less.
Nay, I do know, for all thy outward show,
Thou hast no meaning once to look on him.
Brother dissembler, leave this colouring
With him that means as falsely as thyself.
Con. Ay, but thou know'st that Edward on our letters^
And hoping our assistance when he came,
Did make this purpos'd voyage into France $
And with his forces is he here arrived,
Trusting that we will keep our word with him.
Now, though we mean it not, yet set a face
Upon the matter, as though we intended
To keep our word with him effectually.
Bur. And for my better count'nance in this case,
My ling'ring siege at Nuse will serve the turn.
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 103
There will I spend the time to disappoint
King Edward's hope of my conjoining with him.
Con. And I will keep me still here in St. Quintin's,
Pretending mighty matters for his aid,
But not performing any, on my word.
(Aside.) The rather, Burgundy, because I aim
At matters which perhaps may cost your head,
If all hit right to expectation.
In the mean space, like a good crafty knave,
That hugs the man he wisheth hang'd in heart,
Keep I fair weather still with Burgundy,
Till matters fall out for my purpose fit.
Iqi, sont mes secrets, beau temps pour moi.
Bur. (aside.) Iqi, sont mes secrets, beau temps pour
moi.
Are ye so crafty, Constable ? proceed, proceed,
You quick, sharp-sighted man ! imagine me
Blind, witless, and a silly idiot,
That pries not into all your policies !
Who, I ? no, God doth know, my simple wit
Can never sound a judgment of such reach,
As is our cunning Constable of France !
Persuade thyself so still, and when time serves,
And that thou art in most extremity,
Needing my help, then take thou heed of me 5
In mean while, sir, you are the only man
That hath my heart. Hath ? Ay, and great reason
too.
Thus it befits men of deep reach to do.
(Aloud.) Well, Constable ! you'll back again to Nuse,
And not aid English Edward ?
Con. What else, man ?
And keep thee in St. Quintin's \ so shall we
Smile at King Edward's weak capacity.
[Ex&t&t.
104 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
SCENE IV. King Edward's Army before St. Quintan's.
Enter King EDWARD, HOWARD, SELLIKCER, and
SCALES, having met with BURGUNDY.
King. Tell me not, Burgundy 1 'tis I am wrong'd $
And you have dealt like a disloyal knight.
Bur. Edward of England, these are unkingly words.
King. He that will do, my lord, whatjie should not,
Must and shall hear of me what he would not.
I say again, you have deluded me.
JSwr. Am I not come according to my word ?
King. No, Charles of Burgundy ! the word was given
To meet with me in April ; now 'tis August ;
The place appointed, Calais, not Lorraine >
And thy approach to he with martial troops ;
But thou art come, not having in thy train
So much as page or lacquey to attend thee,
As who should say thy presence were munition,
And strength enough to answer our expect.
Summer is almost spent, yet nothing done,
And all by dalliance with uncertain hope.
Bur. My forces lay before the city Nuse,
From which I could not rise but with dishonour,
Unless upon some composition had.
King. There was no such exception in your letters.
Why smiles Lord Scales ?
Scales. My man reports, my lord,
The composition that the Duke there made
Was mere compulsion ; for the citizens
Drave him from thence perforce.
King. I thought so much.
We should not yet have seen your Excellence,
But that your heels were better than your hands.
Bur. Lord Scales, thou dost^me wrong to slander me.
King. Letting that pass, it shall be seen, my lord,
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 105
That we are able of ourself to claim
Our right in France, without or your assistance
Or any other's, but the help of Heaven.
Bur. I make no question of it : yet the Constable,
Press'd with no such occasion as I was.
Might have excus'd us both, if he had pleased,
King. Accuse him not. Your cities, as we came,
Were ev'n as much to be condemned as his.
They gave us leave to lie within the field,
And scarcely would afford us meat for money.
This was small friendship, in respect of that
You had engag'd your honour to perform.
But march we forward, as we were determined.
This is St. Quintin's, where you say, my lord,
The Constable is ready to receive us.
Bur. So much he signified to me by letter.
King. Well, we shall see his entertainment. Forward !
[As they march* Lord SCALES is struck doivn, and two
Soldiers slain^ by great shot from the town.
Fly to our main battalia ; bid them stand !
There's treason plotted : speak to me, Lord Scales ;
Or, if there be no power of life remaining
To utter thy heart's grievance, make a sign.
Two of our common soldiers slain beside !
This is hard welcome. But it was not you,
At whom the fatal enginer did aim :
My breast the level was, though you the mark :
In which conspiracy, answer me, Duke,
Is not thy soul as guilty as the Earl's ?
Bur. Perish, my soul, King Edward, if I knew
Of any such intention, (aside.) Yet I did,
And grieve that it hath sped no other wise.
King. Howard and Bellinger !
[BURGUNDY steals away.
What, is there hope of life in none of them ?
106 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
How. The soldiers are both slain outright,, my lord,
But the Lord Scales a little is recovered.
King. Convey his body to our pavilion,
And let our surgeons use all diligence
They can devise for safeguard of his life,
Whilst we with all extremity of war
Go plague St. Quintin's. Howard, fetch on our powers !
[Exit HOWARD.
We will not stir a foot till we have shown
Just vengeance on the Constable of France.
Oh, God ! to woo us first to pass the sea.
And at our coming thus to halt with us !
I think the like thereof was never seen.
But where's the Duke ?
Sel. Gone, as it seems, my lord,
Stepped secretly away, as one that knew
His conscience would accuse him if he stayed.
King. A pair of most dissembling hypocrites,
Is he and this base Earl, on whom I vow,
Leaving King Lewis unprejudic'd in peace,
To spend the whole measure of my kindled rage.
Their streets shall sweat with their effusfed blood,
And this bright sun be darken'd with the smoke
Of smould'ring cinders, when their city lies
Buried in ashes of revengeful fire :
On whose pale superficies, in the stead
Of parchment, with my lance I'll draw these linos :
" Edward of England left this memory,
In just revenge of hateful treachery. 5 '
Re-enter HOWAED.
Lord Howard, have ye done as I commanded ?
How. Our battles are dispos'd $ and on the brow
Of ev'ry inferior servitor, my lord,
You might behold destruction figured,
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 107
Greedily thirsting to begin the fight;
But when no longer they might be restrained,
And that the drum and trumpet both began
To sound war's cheerful harmony, behold
A flag of truce upon the walls was hang'd,
And forth the gates did issue, meekly pac'd,
Three men, whereof the Constable is one 5
The other two, the gunner and his mate,
By whose gross oversight (as they report)
This sudden chance unwittingly befel.
King. Bring forth the Constable ! The other two.
See them safe-guarded till you know our pleasure.
Enter the Constable.
Now, my lord Howard, how is it with Scales ?
Hoiv. Well, my dread Sovereign, now his wound is
drest.
And by the opinion of the surgeons,
*Tis thought he shall not perish by this hurt.
King. I am the gladder. But, unfaithful Earl,
T do not see how yet I can dispense
With thy submission. This was not the welcome
Your letters, sent to England, promised me.
Con. Right high and mighty prince, condemn me not,
That am as innocent in this offence
As any soldier in the English army.
The fault was in our gunner's ignorance.
Who, taking you for Lewis, King of France,
That likewise is within the city's ken,
Made that unlucky shot to beat him back,
And not of malice to your majesty :
To 'knowledge which, I brought them with myself,
Awl thirty thousand crowns within this purse,
Sent by the burghers to redeem your lack.
King. Constable of France, we will not sell a drop
108 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
Of English blood for all the gold in France :
But insomuch two of our men are slain.
To quit their deaths, those two that came with thee
Shall both be cramm'd into a cannon's mouth,
And so be shot into the town again.
It is not like but that they knew our colours,
And of set purpose did this villany ;
Nor can I be persuaded thoroughly
But that our person was the mark they aim'd at.
Yet are we well content to hold you excused.
Marry, our soldiers must be satisfied ;
And, therefore, first shall be distributed
These crowns amongst them ; then you shall return,
And of your best provision send to us
Thirty wain-load, besides twelve tun of wine.
This if the burghers will subscribe unto,
Their peace is made. Otherwise I will proclaim
Free liberty for all to take the spoil.
Con. Your highness shall be answer'd presently,
And I will see these articles performed.
King. Yet, one thing more. I will that you, my
lord,
Together with the Duke of Burgundy,
Do, ere to-morrow noon, bring all your force,
And join with ours 3 or else we do recant,
And these conditions shall be frustrate.
Con. Mine are at hand, my lord $ and I will write
The Duke may likewise be in readiness.
King. Let him have safe-conduct through our army.
And, 'gainst the morning, ev'ry leader see
His troops be furnish'd. For no longer time,
God willing, the trial shall be deferred
'Twixt Lewis and us. What echoing sound is this ?
SeL A gentleman from the King of France, my lord,
Craves parlance with your Excellence.
SCENE IV. KING EDWAUD TV. 109
King. A gentleman ! bring him in.
What news, a God's name, from our brother Lewis ?
Enter MUGEROUN.
Mug. Most puissant and most honourable King !
My royal master, Lewis, the King of France,
Doth greet your highness with unfeigned love,
Wishing your health, prosperity, and rule ;
And thus he says by me : When was it seen
That ever Lewis pretended hurt to England,
Either by close conspirators sent over
To undermine your state, or openly
By taking arms with purpose to invade ?
Nay, when was it that Lewis was ever heard
So much as to detract from Edward's name ?
But still hath done him all his due of speech,
By blazing to the world his high deserts
Of wisdom, valour, and heroic birth ?
Whence is it, then, that Edward is incensM
To render hate for love, for amity stern war ?
Not of himself, we know ; but by the means
Of some infectious counsel, that, like mud,
Would spoil the pure temper of his noble mind.
It is the Duke and that pernicious rebel,
Earl of St. Paul, have set abroach these wars,
Who, of themselves unable to proceed,
Would make your Grace the instrument of wrong ;
And when you have done what you can for them,
You shall be sure of nothing but of this,
Still to be doubled and dissembled with.
But if it might seem gracious in your eye
To cast off these despis'd confederates.
Unfit companions for so great a prince,
And join in league with Lewis, my loyal master,
Him shall you find as willing as of power
110 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
To do your grace all offices of love.
And what commodity may spring thereby
To both the realms, your grace is wise enough,
Without my rude suggestions, to imagine.
Besides, much bloodshed for this present time
Will be prevented when two such personages
Shall meet together to shake hands in peace,
And not with shock of lance and curtel-axe.
That Lewis is willing, I am his substitute ;
And he himself in person, if you please,
Not far from hence, will signify as much.
King. Sir, withdraw, and give us leave awhile
To take advisement of our counsellors.
[Exit MUGEROUN.
What say ye, lords, unto this proffered truce ?
How. In my conceit, let it not be slipt, my lord.
Sel. Will it not be dishonour, having landed
So great an army in these parts of France,
And not to fight before we do return ?
How. How can it be, when the enemy submits,
And of himself makes tender of allegiance ?
Sel. Ay, that's the question, whether he will yield,
And do King Edward fealty or no ?
King. What talk ye, lords ? he shall subscribe to that ;
Or no conditions I'll accept at all.
How. Let him be bound, my lord, to pay your Grace,
Toward your expenses since your coming over,
Seventy- five thousand crowns of the sun,
And, yearly after, fifty thousand more,
During your life, with homage therewithal,
That he doth hold his royalty from you ;
And take his offer ; 'twill not be amiss.
King. It shall be so. Draw you the articles ;
And, Bellinger, call forth the Messenger.
Bring with thee, too, a cup of massy gold,
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. Ill
And bid the bearer of our privy purse
Inclose therein a hundred English ryals.
Re-enter MUGEROUN.
Friend, we do accept thy master's league,
With no less firm affection than he craves ;
If he will meet us here, betwixt our tents,
It shall on both sides be confirmed by oath,
On this condition, that he will subscribe
To certain articles shall be proposed.
And so thou hast th\ r answer. To requite
Thy pains herein, we give to thee this cup.
Mug. Health and increase of honour wait on Edward !
King. Lord Howard, bring the Frenchman on his
way.
King Lewis is one that never was precise :
But now, Lord Howard and Tom Sellinger,
There is a task remains for you to do 5
And that is this : you two shall be disguised,
And one of you repair to Burgundy,
The other to the C 4 onstable of France ;
Where you shall learn in secret, if you can,
If they intend to meet us here to-morrow,
Or how they take this our accord with France.
Somewhat, it gives me, you will bring from thence
Worthy the noting. Will you undertake it ?
Sel. With all my heart, my lord. I am for Burgundy.
How. And I am for the Constable of France.
[Exeunt MUG., How., and SEL.
King. Make speed again.
Enter a Messenger.
What news ?
Mes. The King of France, my lord, attended royally,
Is marching hitherward to meet your grace.
THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
King. He shall be welcome. Hast thou drawn the
articles ?
Mes. Yes, my dread Sovereign.
King. Go, call forth our train,
We may receive him with like majesty. [Exit Mes.
Enter English Noblemen and Soldiers, with drums. They
march about the stage. Then Enter King LEWIS and
his train, meeting King EDWARD. The Kings embrace.
K. Lew. My princely brother, we are grieved much
To think you have been at so great a charge,
And toiTd your royal self so far from home,
Upon the unconstant promise of those men
That both dissemble with your grace and me.
K. Ed. Brother of France, you might condemn us
rightly,
Not only of great wrong and toil sustain 'd,
But of exceeding folly, if, incited,
We had presumed to enter these dominions
Upon no other reason than the word
And weak assistance of the Earl St. Paul
Or Burgundy's persuasion. 'Tis our right
That wings the body of composed war ;
And though we listened to their flatteries,
Yet so we shaped the course of our affairs,
As of ourself we might be able found,
Without the trusting to a broken staff.
K. Lew. I know your majesty had more discretion ;
But this is not the occasion of our meeting.
If you be pleas'd to entertain a peace,
My kingly brother, in the sight of these,
And of the all-discov'rzng eye of Heaven,
Let us embrace ; for as my life, I swear
I tender England and your happiness.
K. Ed. The like do I by you and warlike France.
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 113
But, princely brother, ere this knot be knit,
There are some few conditions to be signed.
That done 5 I am as ready as yourself.
K. Lew. Fair brother, let us hear them what they be.
K. Ed. Herald, repeat the articles.
Her. First, it is covenanted that Lewis King of France,
according to the custom of his predecessors, shall do
homage to King Edward, King of England, as his Sove-
reign and true heir to all the dominions of France.
Bour. How as his Sovereign ? That were to depose
And quite bereave him of his diadem.
Will kingly Lewis stoop to such a vassallage ?
K. Ed. Bourbon ! and if he will not, let him choose.
K. Lew. Brother, have patience ! Bourbon, seal your
lips;
And interrupt not these high consequents.
Forward, herald ! what is else demanded ?
Her. Secondly, it is covenanted that Lewis, King of
France, shall pay unto Edward, King of England, im-
mediately upon the agreement betwixt their majesties,
seventy-five thousand crowns of the sun, toward the
charge King Edward hath been at since his arrival in
these parts of France.
Bour. Mori Dieu! he'll neither leave him crown nor
coin.
K. Lew. Bourbon, I say, be silent ! Herald, read on.
Her. Thirdly and lastly, it is covenanted that, over
and beside these seventy- five thousand crowns of the sun
now presently to be paid, Lewis, King of France, shall
yearly hereafter, during the life of Edward, King of
England, pay fifty thousand crowns more, without fraud
or guile, to be tendered at his majesty's castle, commonly
called the Tower of London.
Bour. Nay, bind him that he bring his lordship a
couple of capons, too, every year beside. Here is a
peace, indeed, far worse than war.
114 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
K. Ed. Brother of France, are you resolv'd to do.
According as you hear the covenants drawn ?
K. Lew. Brother of England, mount your royal throne,
For subjects' weal and glory of my God,
And to deal justly with the world beside,
Knowing your title to be lineal
From the great Edward of that name the Third,
Your predecessor, thus I do resign.
Giving my crown and sceptre to your hand,
As an obedient liegeman to your grace.
K. Ed. The same do I deliver back again
With as large interest as you had before.
Now for the other covenants.
K. Lew. Those, my lord,
Shall likewise be performed with expedition ;
And ever after, as you have prescribed,
The yearly pension shall be truly paid.
Her. Swear on this book, King Lewis, so help you God,
You mean no otherwise than you have said.
K. Lew. So help me God, as I dissemble not !
K. Ed. And so help he me, as I intend to keep
Unfeigned league and truce with noble France.
And, kingly brother, now to consummate
This happy day, feast in our royal tent.
English and French are one. So it is meant. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. St. Quintan's.
Enter at one door, BURGUNDY, chafing, with him SEL-
LINGEK, disguised like a Soldier: at another, the
Constable of France, with him HOWARD, in the like
Bur. A peace concluded, say'st thou ? is't not so ?
Sel. My lord, I do assure you, it is so.
Con. And thou affirm'st the like : say, dost thou not ?
SCENE V. KING EDWARD IV. 115
How. I do s my lord, and that for certainty.
Bur. (aside.) I have found it now. The villain Con-
stable
Hath secretly with Edward thus compact.
To join our King and him in amity.
And thereby doubtless got into his hands
Such lands and dukedoms as I aimed at,
And leaves me disappointed in my hope.
A plague upon such crafty cozening !
Now shall I be a mark for them to aim at.
And that vile slave to triumph in my foil.
Con. (aside.) 'Tis so ; for it can be no otherwise.
Burgundy hath been privy to this plot ;
ConspirM with Lewis and the English King,
To save his own stake, and assure himself
Of all those seigniories I hoped for $
And thereupon this close peace is contrived.
Now must the Constable be as a butt
For all their bullets to be levell'd at.
Hell and hot vengeance light on Burgundy
For this his subtle, secret villany !
Bur. (to SEL.) Well, fellow ! for thy pains, take that.
Leave me alone ; for I am much displeased.
Con* (to How.) And get thee gone, my friend. There's
for thy pains.
So leave me to myself.
Sel. Fare ye well, sir ! I hope I have pepper'd ye.
How. And so I think have I my Constable.
[Eateunt How. and SEL.
Bur. Now, Constable ! this peace, this peace ; what
think
Ye of it, man?
Con. Nay, rather what thinks Burgundy ?
Bur. I think that he that did contrive the same
Was little less than a dissembling villain.
116 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
Con. Dog, bite thyself! Come on, come on !
Have not you play'd John for the King, to save
Yourself, sir?
Bur. Ay, art thou good at that ?
Adieu 5 sir ! I may chance to hit you pat. [Eacit.
Con. You may, sir : I perhaps may be before ye.
And for this cunning through the nose to bore ye. [Exit.
SCENE VI. The English Pavilion.
Enter King EDWABD, King LEWIS, HOWAUD,
SELLINGEU, and their train.
K. Ed. So, Bellinger ! we then perceive by thee
The Duke is passing angry at our league.
SeL Ay, my dread lord ! beyond comparison.
Like a mad dog, snatching at every one
That passeth by : shall I but show you how,
And act the manner of his tragic fury ?
K. Ed. No, stay awhile. Methought I heard thee say
They meant to greet us by their messengers.
SeL They did, my lord.
K. Ed. What, and the Constable too ?
How. My sovereign, yes.
K, Ed. But how took he the news ?
How. 'Faith, ev'n as discontented as might be ;
But, being a more deep melancholist,
And sullener of temper than the Duke,
He chews his malice, fumes and froths at mouth,
Uttering but little more than what we gather
By his disturbed looks and rivelPd front ;
Saving that now and then his boiling passion,
Damm'd up as in a furnace, finding vent,
Breaks through his severed lips into short puffs,
And then he mumbles forth a word or two,
As doth a toothless monk when he's at matins.
SCENE VI. KING EDWARD IV. 117
K. Ed. Oh, it was sport alone to note their carriage.
Sel. Sport, my lord ! will you but hear me speak,
And if I do not weary you with laughter,
Ne'er trust Tom Bellinger more upon his word.
[A trumpet sounds.
K. Ed. I pray thee, peace : by this it should appear
One of their messengers is come. Go see.
Upon my life, we shall have some device
Of new dissimulation. How now, Tom ?
Sel. 'Tis as your highness did suppose, my lord.
Here is a messenger from Burgundy.
K. Ed. Excellent good ! admit him presently :
And, brother of France, let me entreat your grace
To stand aside a little in my tent,
Lefet, finding us together, he refrain
To tell the message he is sent about ;
So sure I ana persuaded we shall find
Some notable piece of knavery set afoot.
K. Lew. With all my heart. Urge him speak loud
enough,
That I, my lord, may understand him too. \JEvit.
Enter the Lord of CONTI.
K. Ed, Fear not. I have the method in my mind.
What, is it you, my lord of Contd ? Welcome !
How doth the valiant Duke? in health, I hope?
Conte. In health, my lord, of body, though in mind
Somewhat distempered, that your grace hath joinM
In league with his professed enemy.
K. Ed. How say you that, my lord ? pray you, speak
out;
For I, of late, by reason of a cold,
Am somewhat thick of hearing.
Conte. Thus, my lord.
Your grace demanded if the Duke were well.
118 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
I answer you, he is in health of body.
Though inwardly, in mind, somewhat perplex'd
That you, without his knowledge, have ta'en truce
With childish Lewis, that heartless King of France.
K. Ed. With whom, I pray ye ? A little louder, sir.
Conte. With childish Lewis, that heartless King of
France.
K. Ed* I now do understand you. Is it that
He takes unkindly ? Why, if he had come
With his expected forces, as he promised,
I had been still uncapable of peace ;
But he deceiving me, the fault was his.
Conte. No, my good lord, the fault was not in him,
But in that lewd pernicious counterfeit,
That crafty fox, the Constable of France,
Who counselTd him to keep him at his siege,
Saying it would be more dishonourable
To rise from thence, than any way profitable
To meet your majesty. Beside, my lord,
It hath been proved since how much the Constable
Hates your proceedings, by that wilful shot
Was made against you from St. Quintin's walls,
Which, though he seeni'd to colour with fair speech,
The truth is, they did level at yourself,
And grieved when they heard you were not slain.
K. Ed. May I be bold to credit your report ?
ContL The Duke, upon his honour, bade me say
That it was true \ and therewithal, quoth he,
Tell noble Edward, if he will recant,
And fall from Lewis again, knowing it is
More for his dignity to be sole King,
And conquer France, as did his ancestors,
Than take a fee, and so be satisfied,
That I am ready with twelve thousand soldiers,
All well appointed, and not only will
SCENK VI. KING EDWARD IV. 119
Deliver him the Constable of France,
That he may punish him as he sees good,
But seat him in the throne imperial,
Which now another basely doth usurp.
K. Ed. Speak that again : I heard not your last words.
Cont6. But seat you in the throne imperial,
Which now another basely doth usurp.
K. Ed. I thank his honour for his good regard*
Pleaseth you stay, till we have paus'd upon it,
And you shall have our answer to the Duke.
Tom Sellinger, receive him to your tent,
And let him taste a cup of Orleans wine.
[Exeunt CONT^ and SEL.
Now, my kingly brother, have you heard this news ?
K. Lew. So plainly, my lord, that I scarce held myself
From stepping forth, hearing my royal name
So much profan'd and slubbered as it was 5
But I do weigh the person like himself,
From whence it came a sly dissembler ;
And, spite my anger, I was forc'd sometime
To smile, to think the Duke doth hang his friend,
Behind his back, whom to his face he smoothes.
K. Ed- But we shall have far better sport anon.
Howard tells me that another messenger
Is come in post haste from the Constable $
As you have begun, with patience hear the rest.
K. Lew. No more ado. I'll to my place again.
Remember that you still be deaf, my lord.
K. Ed. I warrant you. Howard, call in the messenger.
Enter the Messenger from the Constable.
Mes. Health to the victorious King of England !
K. Ed. Tell him he must strain out his voice aloud;
For I am somewhat deaf, and cannot hear.
How. His majesty requests you to speak out,
120 THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
Because his hearing is of late decayed.
Mes. The worthy Earl St. Paul
K. Ed. Come nearer me.
Mes- The worthy Earl St. Paul greets noble Edward,
And gives your grace to understand by me,
That whereas Charles, that painted sepulchre,
And most disloyal Duke of Burgundy,
Hath but usurp'd the habit of a friend,
Being in heart your deadly enemy,
As well appears in his false breach of promise,
And that whereas he never meant himself
To send you aid, but likewise was the means
To hinder my lord's well affected duty,
Alleging, you desir'd his company
But that you might betray him to his King.
Beside, whereas it will be prov'd, my lord,
That he did hire the gunner of St. Quintin's,
For a large sum of money, to discharge
Three several pieces of great ordinance,
Upon your coming to that cursed town,
To slay your majesty : in which regard,
If it will please you to revoke from France,
And think of Burgundy as he deserves,
The Duke with expedition bade me say
That he would put the Earl into your hands,
Whereby you might revenge his treacherous purpose,
And aid you, too, with twice five thousand men,
And seat you like a conqueror in France.
K. Ed. Can it seem possible that two such friends >
So firmly knit together as they were,
Should on a sudden now be such great foes ?
Mes. The Earl, my lord, could never abide the Duke,
Since his last treason 'gainst your sacred person,
Before St. Quintin's, came to open light.
K. Ed. Was that the cause of their dissention, then ?
SCENE VI. KING EDWARD IV.
Mes. It was, my lord.
K. Ed. Well, I will think upon it.
And you shall have our answer by and by.
Cousin Howard, take him aside $
But let him be kept from the other's sight.
How. Sir, will you walk in ? my lord will take advice,
And so despatch you back unto the Earl.
\Exeunt MES. and How.
K. Lew. (comes forward?) Here's vying of villany, who
shall have all I
Fraud with deceit, deceit with fraud outfacM.
I would the devil were there to cry swoop-stake.
But how intends your grace to deal with them?
K. Ed. Faith, in their kind. I am the steel, you see,
Against the which their envy being struck,
The sparkles of hypocrisy fly forth.
'Twere not amiss to quench them in their blood.
Enter another Messenger^ to the King of FRANCE, tvith
letters.
Mes. My lord, here's letters to your majesty 5
One from the Duke of Burgundy, the other
From the Constable.
K. Leiv. More villany! a thousand crowns to nothing !
K. Ed. Can there be more than is already broach'd?
Methinks they have already done so well,
As this may serve to bring them both to helh
K. Lew. No, no ; they are indifferently well loaden ;
But yet their fraught's not foil. See other ware,
Other provision, to prepare their way.
The very same, my lord, which they pretend,
In love to you, against my life and crown,
The same they undertake to do for me
Against your safety ; urging, if I please,
That they will join their forces both with mine,
THE SECOND PART OF ACT I.
And, in your back return to Calais, cut
The throats of you and all your soldiers.
K. Ed. Oh, damnable !
But that I see it figur'd in these lines,
I would have sworn there had been nothing left
For their pernicious brain to work upon.
K. Lew. A traitor's like a bold-fac'd hypocrite,
That never will be brought unto a non-plus,
So long as he hath liberty to speak.
K. Ed. The way to cure them is to cut them off.
Call forth their messengers once more to us.
How. Both of them, my lord?
K. Ed. Yes, both together.
We'll see if they have grace to blush or no,
At that their masters shame now to attempt.
Enter CONTJ and Messenger^ with HOWARD and
SELLINGEJR.
Conte. What, is his majesty of France so near?
And Monsieur Koss, the Earl's secretary ?
I fear some hurt depends upon his presence.
Mes. How comes it that I see the French King here ?
Ay, and the Lord of Coiit, too, methinks.
Pray, God, our message be not made a scorn.
K. Ed. You told me that you came from Earl St. Paul?
Mes. I did, my lord \ and therein fabled not.
K. Ed. You told me, too, of many kind endeavours
Which he intended for our benefit ?
Mes. No more than he is willing to perform.
K, Ed. Know you his handwriting, if you see't.
Mes. I do, my lord.
K. Ed. Is this his hand or no ?
Mes. I cannot say but that it is his hand.
K Ed. How comes it, then, that underneath his hand
My death is sought, when you, that are his mouth,
SCENE VI. KING EDWARD IV.
Tune to our ears a quite contrary tale ?
The like read you decipher' d in this paper
Concerning treaeh'rous, wav'ring Burgundy :
Unless you grant they can divide themselves,
And of two shapes become four substances,
How is it I should have their knightly aid,
And yet by them be utterly destroyed ?
K. Lew. And I to be protected by their means,
And yet they shall conspire against my life ?
K. Ed. What call you this but vile hypocrisy ?
K. Lew. Nay, peasant-like, unheard-of treachery.
Conte. My lord, upbraid not me with this offence :
I do protest I knew of no such letters,
Nor any other intention of the Duke,
More than before was utter'd in my message.
SeL Will you be halting, too, before a creeple ?
Do you not remember what they were
That first did certify the Duke of truce
Betwixt the renowned Edward and the French ?
Contg. Yes, they were two soldiers ; what of that ?
SeL Those soldiers were this gentleman and I,
Where we did hear the foul-mouth'd Duke exclaim
Against our noble Sovereign and this prince,
And roar'd and bellow'd like a parish-bull,
And that in hearing both of you and him.
His words, so please my lord, I can repeat,
As he did speak them at that very time.
K. Ed. Well, they are messengers ; and, for that cause,
We are content to bear with their amiss ;
But keep them safe, and let them not return
To carry tales unto those counterfeits,
Until you have them both as fast insnared :
To compass which the better, brother of France,
Five thousand of our soldiers here we leave,
To be employ 'd in service to that end.
The rest with us to England shall return. [Exeunt.
THE SECOKD PART OF ACT II.
ACT II.
SCENE I. England. The Marshalsea Prison.
Enter CHORUS.
Cho. King Edward is returned home to England,
And Lewis, King of France, soon afterward
Surprised both his subtle enemies,
Rewarding them with trait'rous recompence.
Now do we draw the curtain of our scene,
To speak of Shore and his fair wife again,
With other matters thereupon depending.
You must imagine since you saw him last
Prepared for travel, he hath been abroad,
And seen the sundry fashions of the world,
Ulysses-like, his country's love at length,
Hoping his wife's death, and to see his friends,
Such as did sorrow for his great mishaps,
Come home is he ; but so unluckily,
As he is like to lose his life thereby.
His and her fortunes shall we now pursue,
Grac'd with your gentle sufferance and view. [Exit.
Enter Jane SHORE with JOCKY, her Man, and other
Attendants.
Jane. Have ye bestow'd our small benevolence
On the poor prisoners in the common gaol
Of the White Lion and the King's Bench ?
Jocky* Yes, forsooth I
Jane. What prison's this ?
Jocky- The Marshalsea, forsooth !
Enter Sir ROBERT BRACKENBTTRY.
Bra. Well met, fair lady ! in the happiest time
And choicest place that my desire could wish.
Without offence, where have ye been this way ?
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV.
Jane. To take the air here, in St. George's fields,
Sir Robert Brackenbury, and to visit some
Poor patients that cannot visit me.
Bra. Are you a physician ?
Jane. Ay, a simple one*
Bra. What disease cure ye ?
Jane. Faith, none perfectly.
My physic doth but mitigate the pain
A little while, and then it comes again,
Bra. Sweet mistress Shore, I understand ye not.
Jane. Master Lieutenant, I believe you well,
JocJcy. Gude faith, Sir Robert Brobenbelly, my mais-
tress speaks deftly and truly ; for she lies been till see
those that cannot come till see her ; and they's peatients
perforce. The prisoners, man, in the twa prisons. And
she lies gi'n tham her siller and her geer till bay them
fude.
Bra. Gramercies, Jocky, thou resolv'st my doubt.
A comfort-ministering, kind physician,
That once a week in her own person visits
The prisons and the poor in hospitals,
In London or near London every way ;
Whose purse is open to the hungry soul 5
Whose piteous heart saves many a tall man's life.
Jane. Peace, good Sir Robert, 'tis not worthy praise,
Nor yet worth thanks, that is of duty done.
For you know well the world doth know too well
That all the coals of my poor charity
Cannot consume the scandal of my name.
What remedy ? well, tell me, gentle knight,
What meant your kind salute and gentle speech
At our first meeting, when you seem'd to bless
The time and place of our encounter here ?
Bra. Lady ! there lies here prison'd in the Marshalsoa,
A gentleman of good parents and good descent,
126 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
My dear, near kinsman, Captain Harry Stranguidge,
As tall a skilful navigator tried
As ere set foot in any ship at sea,
Whose luck it was to take a prize of France,
As he from Roehelle was for London bound j
For which (except his pardon be obtained
By some especial fav'rite of the King)
He and his crew, a company of proper men,
Are sure to die, because 'twas since the league.
Jane. Let me see him and all his company.
Bra. Keeper, bring forth the Captain and his crew.
Enter Keeper, STHAN&UIDGE, SHORE disguised, and
three more, fettered.
Jocky. Now, fay o'th 9 deel ! that sike bonny men sud
be hampert like plu-jades. Wae's me for ye, gude
lads.
Bra* Ay, cousin Harry ! this is mistress Shore,
Peerless in court, for beauty, bounty, pity !
[JANE views them all.
And if she cannot save thee, thou must die !
Stran. Will she, if she can ?
Bra. Ay, cousin Stranguidge, ay !
Shore, (aside.} Oh, torment worse than death, to see
her face,
That caus'd her shame and my unjust disgrace !
O, that our mutual eyes were basilisks.
To kill each other at their interview.
Bra. How like ye him, lady? you have viewM him well.
Jane. I pity him, and that same proper man
That turns his back, asham'd of this distress.
Shore, (aside.) Asham'd of thee, cause of my heaviness.
Jane. And all the rest. Oh ! were the King return'd,
There might be hope ; but, ere his coming home,
They may be tried, condemn'd, and judg'd, and dead.
SCENE I. KING EDWARD TV. 127
Shore, (aside.} I am condemn'd by sentence of defame !
O, were I dead, I might not see my shame I
Bra, Your credit, lady, may prolong their trial.
What judge is he that will give you denial ?
Jane. I'll rack my credit, and will launch my crowns.
To save their lives, if they have done no murder.
Shore, (aside.) Oh, thou hast crack'd thy credit with
a crown,
And murder'd me, poor Matthew Shore, alive !
Stran. Fair lady, we did shed no drop of blood,
Nor cast one Frenchman overboard, and yet,
Because the league was made before the fact,
Which we poor seamen (God knows) never heard,
We doubt our lives ; yea, though we should restore
Treble the value that we took, and more.
*Twas lawful prize when I put out to sea,
And warranted in my commission.
The kings are since combin'd in amity
(Long may it last) and I unwittingly
Have took a Frenchman since the truce was ta'en,
And if I die, via, one day I must !
And God will pardon all my sins, I trust/
My grief will be for these poor harmless men,
Who thought my warrant might suborn the deed ;
Chiefly that gentleman that stands sadly there,
Who (on my soul) was but a passenger.
Jane. Well, Captain Stranguidge, were the King at
home,
I could say more.
Stran. Lady, he's come ashore.
Last night at Dover, my boy came from thence,
And saw his highness land.
Jane. Then courage, sirs !
I'll use my fairest means to save your lives,
In the mean season, spend that for my sake.
[Gives her purse.
138 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
Enter the Marquis DORSET, and claps her on the shoulder.
Mar. By your leave, mistress Shore ! I have taken pains
To find you out. Come, you will go with me.
Jane. Whither, my lord ?
Mar. Unto the Queen, my mother.
Jane. Good ray lord Marquis Dorset, wrong me not.
Mar. I cannot wrong thee, as thou wrongest my mother.
I'll bring thee to her. Let her use her pleasure.
Jane. Against my will, I wrong her, good my lord.
Yet am ashamM to see her majesty.
Sweet lord, excuse me. Say ye saw me not.
Mar. Shall I delude my mother for a whore ?
No, mistress Shore, ye must go to the Queen.
Jane. Must I, my lord ? what will she do to me ?
Use violence on me, now the King's away ?
Alas, my lord, behold this show'r of tears,
Which hind King Edward would compassionate.
Bring me not to her: she will slit my nose,
Or mark my face, or spurn me unto death.
Look on me, lord ! Can you find in your heart
To have me spoil'd that never thought you harm ?
Oh, rather with your rapier run me through,
Than carry me to the displeased Queen !
Shore, (aside.} Oh, hadst thou never broke thy vow
to me,
From fear and wrong had I defended thee !
, Mar. I am inexorable. Therefore, arise,
And go with me. What rascal crew is this ?
Mistress Shore's suitors ? such slaves make her proud.
What, Sir Robert Brackenbury ! you a Shorist too !
Bra. No Shorist, but to save my cousin's life.
Mar. Then I'll be hang'd if he escape, for this 5
The rather for your means to mistress Shore.
My mother can do nothing : this whore all.
Come away, minion ! you shall prate no more.
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 129
Jane. Pray for me, friends 5 and I will pray for you.
God send you better hap than / expect 3
Go to my lodging, you ; and, if I perish,
Take what is there in lieu of your true service.
Jock. Na ! a ma saul ! I'se ne'er forsake my gude
maistress, till I ha* seen tha worst that spite can du her.
[Exeunt Marquis, JANE SHOHE, and their Attendants.
Shore. For all the wrong that thou hast done to me,
They should not hurt thee yet, if I were free.
Bra. See, cousin Stranguidge, how the case is changed:
She that should help thee cannot help herself.
Stran. What remedy ! the God of heav'n helps all.
What say ye, mates ? our hope of life is dash'd*
Now none but God, let's put our trust in him,
And ev'ry man repent him of his sin !
And as together we have liv'd like men,
So like tall men together let us die.
The best is, if we die for this offence,
Our ignorance shall plead our innocence.
Keeper. Your meat is ready, Captain ; you must in.
Stran* Must I ? I will. Cousin, what will you do ?
Bra. Visit you soon j but now I will to Court,
To see what shall become of mistress Shore.
Stran. God speed ye well !
Keeper. Come, sir, will you go in ?
Sftore. I'll eat no meat. Give me leave to walk here.
[Exeunt omnespr&ter SHORE.
Am I now left alone ? No ; millions
Of miseries attend me every where :
Ah, Matthew Shore ! how doth all-seeing Heaven
Punish some sin from thy blind conscience hid !
Inflicting pain where all thy pleasure was 5
And by my wife came all these woes to pass.
She faJs'd her faith, and brake her wedlock's band :
Her honour falTn, how could my credit stand ?
130 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
Yet will not I, poor Jane ! on thee exclaim.
Though guilty thou, I guiltless suffer shame.
I left this land, too little for my grief 5
Returning, am accounted as a thief,
Who in that ship came but a passenger
To see my friends, hoping the death of her ;
At sight of whom some sparks of former love
(Hid in affection's ashes) pity move,
Kindling compassion in my broken heart,
That bleeds to think on her ensuing smart.
O, see weak women's imperfections
That leave their husbands' safe protections,
Hazarding all on strangers* flatteries,
Whose lust allay'd, leaves them to miseries !
See what dishonour breach of wedlock brings,
Which is not safe, ev'rt in the arms of kings !
Thus do I, Jane, lament thy present state,
Wishing my tears thy torments might abate. [Exit.
SCENE IL The Palace.
Enter the Queen, and the Marquis of DORSET, leading
JANE SHORE, who falls on her knees before the Qu.een 9
fearful and weeping.
Queen. Now, as I am a queen, a goodly creature !
Son, how was she attended ? where found you her P
Mar. Madam, I found her at the Marshalsea,
Going to visit the poor prisoners,
As she came by, having been to take the air ;
And there the keeper told me she oft deals
Such bounteous alms as seldom hath been seen.
Queen. Now, before God ! she would make a gallant
Queen 1
But, good son Dorset, stand aside awhile.
God save your Majesty ! my Lady Shore I
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 131
My Lady Shore, said I ? Oh, blasphemy,
To wrong your title with a lady's name !
Queen Shore ! nay, rather Empress Shore !
God save your grace, your majesty, your highness I
Lord ! I want titles $ you must pardon me.
What ! you kneel there ? King Edward's bedfellow,
And I, your subject, sit ! fie, fie for shame !
Come take your place ; and I'll kneel where you do.
I may take your place : you have taken mine.
Good lord, that you will so debase yourself !
I am sure, you are our sister-queen at least :
Nay, that you are. Then let us sit together.
Jane. Great queen ! yet hear me, if my sin committed
Have not stopt up all passage to your mercy.
To tell the wrongs that I have done your highness,
Might make revenge exceed extremity.
Oh, had I words or tongue to utter it,
To plead my woman's weakness, and his strength,
That was the only worker of my fall,
Ev'n Innocence herself would blush for shame,
Once to be nam'd or spoken of in this.
Let them expect for mercy whose offence
May but be called sin. Oh, mine is more.
Prostrate as earth before your highness' feet,
Inflict what torments you shall think most meet.
Mar. Spurn the whore, mother ! tear those enticing
eyes,
That robb'd you of King Edward's dearest love.
Mangle those locks, the baits to his desires-
Let me come to her : you but stand and talk,
As if revenge consisted but in words.
Queen. Son ! stand aloof, and do not trouble me,
(Aside.) Alas, poor soul ! as much ado have I
To forbear tears to keep her company.
Yet once more will I to my former humour.
K 2
132 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
(Aloud.) Why, as I am, think that thou wert a queen ;
And I as thou should wrong thy princely bed,
And win the King thy husband, as thou mine :
Would it not sting thy soul? Or if that I,
Being a queen, while thou didst love thy husband,
Should but have done as thou hast done to me,
Would it not grieve thee ? Yes, I warrant thee.
There's not the meanest woman that doth live,
But if she like and love her husband well,
She had rather feel his warm limbs in her bed,
Than see him in the arms of any queen.
You are flesh and "blood as we, and we as you,
And all alike in our affections,
Though majesty makes us the more ambitious.
What 'tis to fall into so great a hand,
Knowledge might teach thee. There was once a king,
Henry the Second, who did keep his leman
"" Cag'd up at Woodstock in a labyrinth :
His queen yet got a trick to find her out 5
And how she us'd her, I am sure thou hast heard.
Thou art not mew'd up in some secret place ;
But kept in court here, underneath my nose.
Now, in the absence of my lord the King,
Have I not time most fitting for revenge ?
Fair Rosamond, she a pure virgin was,
Until the king seduc'd her to his will.
She wrong'd but one bed ; only the angry Queen's ;
But thou hast wronged two 5 mine and thy husband's.
Be thine own judge, and now injustice see.
What due revenge I ought to take on thee*
Jane. Ev'n what you will, great queen ! here do I lie,
Humble and prostrate at your highness' feet ;
Inflict on me what may revenge your wrong :
Was never lamb abode more patiently
Jhan I will do. Call all your griefs to mind ;
SCENE IT. KING EDWARD IV. 133
And do ev'n what you will, or how likes you,
I will not stir I will not shriek or cry,
Be it torture, poison, any punishment,
Was never dove or turtle more submiss,
Than I will be unto your chastisement.
Mar. Fetched I her for this ? mother, let me come to her;
And what compassion will not suffer you
To do to her, refer the same to me.
Queen. Touch her not, son, upon thy life I charge thee!
But keep off still, if thou wilt have my love.
[Exit Marquis.
I am glad to hear ye are so well resolv'd
To bear the burthen of my just displeasure.
[She draws a knife, and making as though she meant
to spoil JANE SHORE 's/isce, runs to her, and falling
on her knees, embraces and kisses her, throwing away
the Jcnife.
Thus, then, 1*11 do. Alas, poor soul !
Shall I weep with thee ? in faith, poor heart, I will.
Be of good comfort : thou shalt have no harm ;
But if that kisses have the power to kill thee,
Thus, thus, and thus, a thousand times 1*11 stab thee.
Jane, I forgive thee ! What fort is so strong,
But, with besieging, he will batter it?
Weep not, sweet Jane ! alas, I know thy sex,
Touch'd with the self-same weakness that thou art :
And if my state had been as mean as thine,
And such a beauty to allure his eye
(Though I may promise much to mine own strength),
What might have hapt to me I cannot tell.
Nay, fear not ; for I speak it with my heart,
And in thy sorrow truly bear a part.
Jane. Most high and mighty Queen ! may I believe
There can be found such mercy in a woman ?
And in a <jfieen, more then in a wife,
134 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
So deeply wrong'd as I have wronged you ?
In this bright chrystal mirror of your mercy,
I see the greatness of my sin the more,
And makes my fault more odious in mine eyes.
Your princely pity now doth wound me more
Than all your threat'nings ever did before.
Queen. Rise, my sweet Jane ! I say thou shalt not kneel 5
Oh, God forbid ! that Edward's queen should hate
Her whom she knows he doth so dearly love.
My love to her may purchase me his love.
Jane, speak well to the King of me and mine 5
Eemember not my son's o'er-hasty speech 3
Thou art my sister, and I love thee so.
I know thou may*st do much with my dear lord.
Speak well of us to him in any case,
And I and mine will love and cherish thee.
Jane. All I can do is all too little too,
But to requite the least part of this grace.
The dearest thoughts that harbour in this breast
Shall in your service only be exprest.
Enter King EDWARD, angrily^ Ms Lords following.
King. What, is my Jane with her ? It is too true.
See where she hath her down upon her knees !
Why, how now, Bess? what, will ye wrong my Jane?
Come hither, love ! what hath she done to thee ?
[JANE falls on her knees to the King.
Jane. Oh, royal Edward ! love thy beauteous Queen !
The only perfect mirror of her kind,
For all the choicest virtues can be named !
Oh, let not my bewitching looks withdraw
Your dear affections from your dearer queen !
But to requite the grace that she hath shown
To me, the worthless creature on this earth,
To banish me the Court immediately.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 135
Great King ! let me but beg one boon of thee,
That Shore's wife ne'er do her more injury !
[As JANE SHORE kneels on one side of the King,
the Queen steps and kneels on the other.
Queen. Nay, then, I'll beg against her, royal Edward !
Love thy Jane still j nay more, if more may be ;
And this is all the harm that at my hands
She shall endure for it (kisses her). Oh, where my
Edward loves,
It ill beseems his Queen to grudge thereat.
King. Say 'st thou me so, Bess ? on my kingly word,
Edward will honour thee in heart for this.
But, trust me, Bess, I greatly was afraid
I should not find ye in so good a tune.
How now ! what would our Constable of the Tower ?
Enter Sir ROBERT BRACKENBURY.
Bra. The Queen and mistress Shore do know my
suit.
Queen. It is for Stranguidge and his men at sea.
Edward, needs must you pardon them.
King. Have I not vow'd the contrary already?
Dishonour me, when I have made a league !
My word is pass'd, and they shall suffer death 5
Or never more let me see France again.
Jane. Why, there is one was but a passenger.
Shall he die too ?
King. Pass me no passage, Jane.
Were he in company, he dies for company.
Queen. Good Jane, entreat for them.
Jane. Come, Edward ! I must not take this answer.
Needs must I have some grace for Stranguidge.
King. Why, Jane, have I not denied my Queen ?
Yet what is't, Jane, I would deny to thee ?
I prithee, Brackenbury, be not thou displeased :
136 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
My word is pass'd. Not one of them shall live.
One, go and see them forthwith put to death. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Crosby Place.
Enter the Dukes of CLARENCE and GLOCESTER and
Dr. SHAW.
Glost. I cannot see this prophecy you speak of
Should any way so much displease the King ;
And yet I promise you, good brother Clarence,
*Tis such a letter as concerns us both.
That G. should put away King Edward's children,
And sit upon his throne ! that G. should ! well !
Cla. God bless the King and these two sweet young
princes !
Glost. Amen, good brother Clarence*
Shaw. Amen !
Glost. (aside.} And send them all to Heaven shortly,
I beseech him !
da. The King's much troubled, in his sickness, with it.
Glost. I promise you he is, and very much.
But, Dr. Shaw, who prophesied that G.
Should be so sadly ominous to us ?
Shaw. My lord of Gloster, I received the same
From old Friar Anselm of Saint Bartholomew's.
Glost. A great learn'd man he was ; and, as I have heard,
Hath prophesied of very many things :
I promise you, it troubles me.
(Aside.} I hope, in me his prophecy is true.
Clar. And, so it does me, I tell you, brother Gloster.
Glost. I am sure it does; for, look you, brother
Clarence,
We know not how his highness will apply it :
We are but two, yourself, my lord, and I.
Should the young princes fail, which God defend 1
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 187
Clar. Which God defend !
Shaw. Which God defend !
Glost. (aside.} But they should be cut off! (aloud.}
Amen, amen !
You, brother, first ; and, should your issue fail,
Poor I am next, the youngest of the three.
But how far I am from a thought of that,
Heav'n witness with me (aside.} that I wish you dead I
Clar. Brother, I durst be sworn !
Glost. God bless you all !
(Aside.} And take you to him, if it be his will f
(Aloud.} Now, brother, this prophecy of G. troubling the
King,
He may as well apply it unto Gloster,
My dukedom's name, if he be jealous,
As unto George, your name, good brother Clarence.
God help ! God help I i'faith it troubles me,
You would not think how (aside.) that any of you live !
Clar. It cannot choose : how innocent I am,
And how unspotted are my loyal thoughts
Unto his highness and those sweet young princes,
God be my record !
Glost. Who, you ? Ay, I durst answer for you,
(Aside.} That I shall cut you off ere it be long.
(Aloud.} But, reverend doctor, you can only tell,
Being his highness* confessor, how he takes it.
(Aside to Shaw.) Shaw, you know my mind, a villain like
myself.
Shaw. My lord of Clarence, I must tell your lordship,
His highness is much troubled in his sickness
With this same prophecy of G. Who is this G?
Oft-times he will demand ; then will he sigh,
And name his brother George, yourself, my lord,
And then he strikes his breast, I promise you.
This morning, in the extremest of his fit,
138 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
He lay so still, we all thought he had slept,
When suddenly, " George is the G.," quoth he,
And gave a groan, and turn'd his face away.
Clar. God be my witness, witness with my soul,
My just and upright thoughts to him and his !
I stand so guiltless and so innocent
As I could wish my breast to be transparent,
And my thoughts written in great letters there,
The world might read the secrets of my soul.
Glost. Ah, brother Clarence, when you are suspected !
Well, well, it is a wicked world the while :
But shall I tell you, brother, in plain terms,
I fear yourself and I have enemies
About the King, God pardon them ! the world
Was never worser to be trusted.
Ah f brother George, where is that love that was ?
Ah ! it is banish'd, brother, from the world.
Ah, conscience, conscience, and true brotherhood
*Tis gone, 'tis gone. Brother, I am your friend,
I am your loving brother, your own self,
And love you as my soul 5 use me in what you please,
And you shall see I'll do a brother's part
(Aside.") Send you to Heav'n, I hope, ere it be long :
I am a true-stampt villain as ever lived.
Clar. I know you will. Then, brother, I beseech
you,
Plead you mine innocence unto the King,
And in meantime, to tell my loyalty,
I'll keep within my house at Baynard's Castle,
Until I hear how my dread sovereign takes it.
Glost. Do so, good brother.
Clar. Farewell, good brother Gloster.
Glost. My tears will scarcely let me take my leave,
I love you so : farewell, sweet George ! [Eteit CLAK;
So, is he gone? now, Shaw, 'tis in thy power
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 139
To bind me to thee everlastingly,
And there is not one step that I shall rise,
But I will draw thee with me unto greatness*
Thou shalt sit in my bosom as my soul.
Incense the King, now being as thou art,
So near about him, and his confessor,
That this G. only is George, duke of Clarence.
Docto^ thou need'st not my instruction 5
Thou hast a searching brain, a nimble spirit.
Able to master any man's affections.
Effect it, Shaw, and bring it to pass once,
I'll make thee the greatest Shaw that ever was.
Shaw. My lord, I'm going by commandement
Unto the Marshalsea, to Captain Stranguidge,
For piracy of late condemned to die,
There to confess him and his company j
That done, I'll come with speed back to the King,
And make no doubt but I'll effect the thing.
Glost. Farewell, gentle Doctor !
Shaw. Farewell, my lord of Gloster !
[Exit.
Glost. Let me awake my sleeping wits awhile.
Ha 1 the mark thou aim'st at, Richard, is a crown,
And many stand betwixt thee and the same.
What of all that ? Doctor, play thou thy part :
I'll climb up by degrees, through many a heart. [Exit.
SCENE IV. The Marshalsea.
Enter BRACKENBUKY with VAUX, the Keeper*
Bra. Why, master Vaux, is there no remedy
But instantly they must be led to death ?
Can it not be deferr'd till afternoon,
Or but two hours, in hope to get reprieve ?
Keeper. Master Lieutenant, 'tis in vain to speak ;
140 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
The King's incens'd and will not pardon them.
The men are patient and resolv'd to die ;
The Captain and that other gentleman
Have cast the die whether shall suffer first.
Bra. How fell the lot to Stranguidge or to him ?
Keeper. The guiltless passenger must first go to't.
Bra. They are all quite guiltless from intent of ill.
Keeper. And yet must die for doing of the deed.
Besides, the Duke of Exeter found dead,
And naked, floating up and down the sea,
'Twixt Calais and our coast, is laid to them,
That they should rob and cast him overboard.
Bra. My soul be pawn, they never knew of it..
Keeper. Well, bring them forth.
Bra. Stay them yet but an hour.
Keeper. I dare not do't, Sir Robert Brackenbury :
You are Lieutenant of the Tower yourself,
And know the peril of protracting time:
Moreover, here's that pickthank, Doctor Shaw,
The Duke of Gloster's spaniel, shriving them.
Come, bring them forth.
Bra. Poor Stranguidge, must thou die ?
Enter one bearing a silver oar before STKANGUIDGE,
SHOBB, and two or three more, pinioned, and two or
three with bills, and a Hangman. Dr. SHAW accom-
panies them.
Bra. I dare not say good morrow, but ill day,
That Harry Stranguidge is thus cast away.
Stran. Good cousin Brackenbury, be as well content
To see me die, as I to suffer death.
Be witness that I die an honest man,
Because my fact proves ill through ignorance ;
And for the Duke of Exeter his death,
So speed my soul as I am innocent.
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 141
Here goes my grief, this guiltless gentleman,
Like jiEsop's stork, that dies for company,
And came (God knows) but as a passenger.
Ah, master Flood ! a thousand floods of woe
O'erflow my soul that thou must perish so.
Shore. Good Captain, let no perturbation
Hinder our passage to a better world.
This last breath's blast will waft our weary souls
Over death's gulf, to heaven's most happy port.
There is a little battle to be fought,
[The Hangman prepares, and SHORE
mounts the ladder.]
Wherein by lot the leading must be mine.
Second me, Captain, and this bitten breakfast
Shall bring a sweeter supper with the Saints.
Shaw. This Christian patience, at the point of death,
Doth argue he hath led no wicked life,
How ever Heav'n hath laid this cross on him.
Well, Matthew Flood (for so thou calPst thyself),
Finish a good course as thou hast begun,
And clear thy conscience by confession.
What know'st thou of the Duke of Exeter's death ?
Shore, So God respect the waygate of my soul,
As I know nothing.
Shaw. Then concerning this
For which thou diest, knew Stranguidge of the league
Betwixt the kings before he took that prize ?
Shore. No, in my conscience.
Shaw. Stranguidge, what say you ?
You see there's but a turn betwixt your lives :
You must be next : confess, and save your soul,
Concerning that wherein I questioned him.
I am your ghostly father, to absolve
You of your sins, if you confess the truth.
Stran. True, doctor Shaw ! and, as I hope for heaven,
142 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
In that great day when we shall all appear,
I neither knew how that good Duke came dead,
Nor of the league, till I had ta'en the prize.
Neither was Flood (that innocent dying man)
Ever with me but as a passenger*
Shaw. More happy he ! Well, Flood, forgive the world,
As thou wilt have forgiveness from the heavens.
Shore. Oh, so I do, and pray the world forgive
What wrong I did whilst I therein did live j
And now I pray you turn your pains to them,
And leave me private for a little space
To meditate upon my parting hence.
Shaw. Do, gentle Flood, and we wiH pray for thee.
Shore, (aside.} Pray not for Flood, but pray for Mat-
thew Shore ;
For Shore covered with the cloak of Flood.
If I have sinned in changing of my name,
Forgive me, God ! 'twas done to hide my shame.
And I forgive the world King Edward first,
That wrack'd my state, by winning of my wife 5
And though he would not pardon trespass small
In these, in me (God knows) no fault at all,
I pardon him, though guilty of my fall*
Perhaps he would, if he had known 'twas I ;
But twenty deaths I rather wish to die,
Than live beholding for one minute's breath
To him, that living, wounded me with death-
Death of my joy, and hell of my defame,
Which now shall die under this borrow'd name.
Jane ! God forgive thee, ev'n as I forgive ;
And pray thou may'st repent while thou dost live.
I am as glad to leave this loathed light,
As to embrace thee on our marriage- night.
To die unknown thus is my greatest good
That Matthew Shore's not hanged, but Matthew Flood ;
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 143
For floods of woe have wash'd away the shore
That never wife nor kin shall look on more.
(Aloud.) Now, when you will, I am prepaid to go.
Enter JOCKY, running.
JocJcy. Hand, haud ! fay for speed ! untaye, untruss,
pull down, pull off ! God seave the King ! off with the
helters ! hence with the prisoners ! a pardon, a pardon !
Bra. Good news, unlook'd for! Welcome, gentle friend!
Who brings the pardon ?
Jocky. Stay, first let me blaw ! my maistress, maistress
Shore, shee brings tha pardon. Off with those bands !
bestow them o' tha hangman ! May maistress made me
run the nearest way o'er tha fields. She raids a pace the
heegh way. She's at hand bay this. Sirrah, ye that
preach, come down. Let Doctor Shaw ha' your place :
he's tha better scholar. Maistress Shore brings a new
lesson for you.
Shore. Oh, I had read my latest lesson well.
Had he been ready to have said Amen.
[pointing to the hangman.
Now shall I live to see my shame again.
[descends the ladder.
Oh, had I died unwitting to my wife,
Bather than see her, though she bring me life !
Enter JANE SHORE, in haste s in her riding-cloak and
safe-guard, with a pardon in her hand.
Jane. Alas ! I see that ev'n my smallest stay
Had lost my labour, and cast them away,
God knows, I hasted all that e'er I might.
Here, Master Vaux, King Edward greets ye well :
His gracious pardon frees this gentleman,
And all his company, from shameful death.
All. God save the King, and God bless Mistress Shore !
144 THE SECOND PART OF ACT II.
Jocky. Amen 5 and keep these fra* coming here any mair.
Jane. You must discharge them, paying of their fees,
Which, for I fear their store is very small,
I will defray * Hold, here, take purse and all !
Nay, master Vaux, 'tis gold 3 if not enough,
Send to me : I will pay you royally.
Stran. Lady ! in the behalf of all the rest.
With humble thanks, I yield myself your slave.
Command their service and command my life.
Jane. No, Captain Stranguidge j let the King command
Your lives and service, who hath given you life.
These and such offices conscience bids me do.
Shaw. Pity that e'er awry she trod her shoe !
Shore. Oh, had that conscience prick'd when love
provok'd !
Bra. Lady ^ the last but not the least in debt
To your devotion for my cousin's life,
I render thanks : yet thanks is but a breath :
Command me, madam, during life.
Old Brackenbury vows for you to stand
Whilst I have limbs or any foot of land.
Shore. Thus is her glory builded on the sand.
Jane. Thanks, good Master Lieutenant of the Tower !
(To JOCKY.) Sirrah, prepare my horse : why stay you
here ?
Pray ye, commend me to my noble friend
The Duke of Clarence, now your prisoner :
Bid him not doubt, the King's displeasure past,
I hope to gain him favour and release.
Bra. God grant ye may ! he's a noble gentleman.
Shaw. My patron Gloster *11 cross it, if he can.
[Exit.
Enter a Messenger.
Me*. Where's mistress Shore ? Lady, I come in post.
The King hath had a very dangerous fit
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 145
Since you came from him. Twice his majesty
Hath swounfed, and with much ado revived ;
And still^ as breath will give him leave to speak,
He calls for you. The Queen and all the lords
Have sent to seek ye : haste unto his grace,
Or else I fear you'll never see his face.
Jane. O God, defend ! good friends, pray for the King.
More bitter are the news which he doth bring,
Than those were sweet I brought to you of late :
If Edward die, confounded is my state.
I'll haste unto him, and will spend my blood
To save his life, or do him any good.
[Exeunt Jane SHORE and Messenger.
Shore. And so would I for thee, hadst thou been true :
But if he die, bid all thy pomp adieu !
Bra. Believe me, but I do not like these news
Of the King's dang'rous sickness.
Keeper. No, nor I.
Captain and Master Flood, and all the rest,
I do rejoice your pardon was obtained
Before these news, these inauspicious news :
If the King die, the state will soon be changed.
Master Lieutenant ! you'll go to the Tower.
I'll take my leave. Gallants, God b'w'ye all !
[Exeunt VAUX and train.
Stran. God bV'ye, Master Vaux ! I wus ye ha* lost
good guests.
Bra. You shall be my guest for a night or two.
Cousin, till your own lodging be prepar'd.
But, tell me, sir, what means hath master Flood.
Stran. I cannot tell : I'll ask him, if ye will.
Bra. Do so ; and if his fortunes be debased,
111 entertain him, if he'll dwell with me,
On good condition.
Stran* Master Matthew Flood,
146 THE SECOND PART OF ACT III.
Hear ye my cousin Brackenbury's mind ?
He hath conceiv'd such liking of your parts.
That if your means surmount not his suppose,
He'll entertain ye gladly at the Tower
To wait on him, and put ye in great trust.
Shore. In what I undertake, I will be just,
And hold me happy, if my diligence
May please so worthy a gentleman as he.
Whatever my fortunes have been, they are now
Such as to service make their master bow.
Bra. No, Flood ! more like a friend and fellow-mate
I mean to use thee, than a servitor,
And place thee in some credit at the Tower,
And give thee means to live in some good sort.
Shore. I thank ye, sir. God grant I may deserve it !
JBra. Cousin, and all your crew, come home with me,
Where, after sorrow, we may merry be.
[Exeunt BRA. and STRAN.
Shore. The Tower will be a place of secret rest,
Where I may hear good news and bad, and use the best.
God bless the Bang ! a worse may wear the crown ;
And then, Jane Shore ! thy credit will come down.
For though I'll never bed nor board with thee,
Yet thy destruction wish I not to see :
Because I lov'd thee when thou wast my wife,
Not for now saving my disdained life,
Which lasts too long. God grant us both to mend !
Well ! I must in, my service to attend* [Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Street.
The Lord LOVELL and Dr. SHAW meet.
Shaw. Well met, my good lord Lovell !
Lov. Whither away so fast goes Doctor Shaw ?
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 147
Shaw. Why, to the Tower, to shrive the Duke of
Clarence,
Who, as I hear, is falPn so grievous sick,
As it is thought he can by no means 'scape.
Lov. He neither can nor shall, I warrant thee.
Shaw. I hope, my lord, he is not dead already.
Lov. But I hope, sir, he is : I'm sure I saw him dead
Of a fly's death 5 drown'd in a butt of Malmsey.
Shaw. Drown'd in a butt of Malmsey 1 that is strange.
Doubtless he never would misdo himself?
Lov. No j that thou know'st right well : he had some
helpers :
Thy hand was in it, with the Duke of Gloster's,
As smoothly as thou seek'st to cover it.
Shaw. O foul words, my lord ! no more of that :
The world knows nothing : then what should I fear ?
Doth not your honour seek promotion ?
Oh, give the Doctor then a little leave,
So that he gain preferment with a King,
Cares not who goes to wrack, whose heart doth wring.
Lov. A king ? what King ?
Shaw. Why, Richard, man, who else ? good Lord, 1 see,
Wise men sometimes have weak capacity.
Lov* Why, is not Edward living? and if he were not,
Hath he not children ? what shall become of them ?
Shaw. Why, man, lining for beds a knife or so
What, make a boy a king, and a man stand by,
Richard, a man for us ? fie, that were shame !
Lov. Nay, then, I see, if Edward were deceased,
Which way the game would go.
Shaw. What else, my lord?
That way the current of our fortune runs,
By noble Richard, gallant, royal Richard :
He is the man must only do us good ;
So I have honour, let me swim through blood.
148 THE SECOND PART OF ACT ITT.
My lord, be but at Paul's Cross Sunday next 5
I hope I have it here shall soundly prove
King Edward's children not legitimate.
Nay, and that for Edward ruling now,
And George the Duke of Clarence, so late dead,
Their mother happ'd to tread the shoe awry.
Lov. Why, what is Richard, then ?
Shaw. Tut, lawful, man : he says it so himself;
And what he says, 1*11 be so bold to swear,
Though in my soul I know it otherwise.
Beware promotion, while you live, my lord.
Enter CATESBY.
Cat. A staff I a staff! a thousand pounds for a staff!
Lov. What staff, Sir WiDiam Catesby?
Cat. Why, man, a white staff, for my lord protector !
Lov. Why, is King Edward dead ?
Cat. Dead, Lovell, dead. And Richard, our good lord,
Is made protector of the sweet young prince.
O, for a staff! where might I have a staff,
That I might first present it to his hand ?
Shaiv. Now, do I smell two bishopricks at least.
My sermon shall be pepper'd sound for this !
Enter JANE SHOBE, ^veeping, followed by JGCKY.
Cat. Why, how now, mistress Shore ? what, put finger
in the eye?
Nay, then, I see you have some cause to cry.
Lov. I blame her not. Her chiefest stay is gone,
The only staff she had to lean upon !
I see, by her, these tidings are too true.
Jane. Ay, my lord Lovell ; they are too true, indeed.
Royal King Edward now hath breathed his last j
The Queen turn'd out, and every friend put by 5
None now admitted but whom Richard please.
Lov,. Why, doubtless, Richard will be kind to you.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV.
Jane. Ah, my lord Lovell ! God bless me from his
kindness !
No sooner was the white staff in his hand,
But finding me and the right woful queen
Sadly bemoaning such a mighty loss,
sc Here is no place/* quoth he ; tc you must be gone :
We have other matters now to think upon.
For you," quoth he to me, and bit his lip,
And struck me with his staff^ but said no more.
Whereby I know he meaneth me no good.
Cat. Well, mistress Shore, 'tis like to be a busy time :
Shift for yourself. Come, lads, let us begone !
Royal King Richard must be wait upon.
Shaw. Well a mistress Shore, if you have need of me,
You shall command me to the uttermost. [Exeunt.
Jane. First, let me die, ere I do put my trust
In any fleering spaniel of you all.
Go, Jocky, take down all my hangings,
And quickly see my trunks be convey'd forth
To mistress Blague's, an inn in Lombard Street,
The Flower-de-luce. Good Jocky, make some speed ;
She, she must be my refuge in this need.
See it done quickly, Jocky. [Exif*
JbeAy. Whickly, quotha? marry, here's a whick chaunge,
indeed, sic whick chaunge did I never see before. Now,
dream I, that Fse be a very puir fellow, and hardly ha*
any siller to drink with a gude-fellow. But what stand
I tattling here? I must go do my maistress* bidding;
carry all her stuff and gear to maistress Blague's at the
Flower-de-luce in Lombard Street. Whick then, despatch !
[Exit.
SCENE II. The Tower.
Enter BRACKENBUIIY and SHORE.
Bra* Come hither, Flood ! let me hear thy opinion.
Thou know^st I build upon thy confidence,
150 THE SECOND PART OF ACT III.
And honest dealing in my great'st affairs.
I have received letters from the Duke,
Gloster, I mean. Protector of the land.
Who gives in charge the Tower be prepar'd.
This night, to entertain the two young princes.
It is my duty to obey, I know \
But manifold suspicion troubles me.
Shore. He is their uncle, sir ; and, in that sense,
Nature should warrant their security :
Next, his deceased brother, at his death.
To Richard's care committed both the realm
And their protection $ where humanity
Stands as an orator to plead against
All wrong suggestion of uncivil thoughts :
Beside, you are Lieutenant of the Tower ;
Say that there should be any hurt pretended,
The privilege of your authority
Pries into every corner of this house,
And what can there be done without your knowledge ?
Bra. Thou say'st true, flood, though Richard be
Protector,
When once they are within the Tower limits,
The charge of them (unless he derogate
From this my office, which was never seen
In any king's time) doth belong to me :
And ere that Brackenbury will consent
Or suffer wrong be done unto these babes,
His sword, and all the strength within the Tower,
Shall be opposed against the proudest comer.
Be it to my soul, as I intend to them !
Shore. And faith in me unto this commonwealth,
And truth to men, hath hitherto been seen
The pilot that hath guided my life's course,
Though 'twas my fortune to be wrong'd in both.
And therefore, sir, neither the mighty's frown,
Nor any bribes, shall win me otherwise.
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 151
Bra. 'Tis well resolved. Still, methinks, they should
Be safe enough with us \ and yet I fear
But now no more : it seems they are at hand.
Enter the two young princes^ EDWABD and RICHARD, with
GLOSTER, CATESBY, LOVEI/L, and TYRREL.
P. Ed. Uncle, what gentleman is that ?
Glos. It is, sweet prince, Lieutenant of the Tower.
P. Ed. Sir, we are come to be your guests to-night.
I pray you, tell me, did you ever know
Our father Edward lodge within this place ?
Bra. Never to lodge, my liege ; but oftentimes,
On other occasions, I have seen him here.
P. JR. Brother, last night, when you did send for me,
My mother told me, hearing we should lodge
Within the Tower, that it was a prison,
And therefore marvell'd that my uncle Gloster,
Of all the houses for a king's receipt
Within this city, had appointed none
Where you might keep your court but only here.
Glos. Vile brats ! how they do descant on the Tower !
My gentle nephew, they were ill advised
To tutor you with such unfitting terms
(Whoe'er they were) against this royal mansion.
What if some part of it hath been reserved
To be a prison for nobility ?
Follows it, therefore, that it cannot serve
To any other use ? Csesar himself,
That built the same, within it kept his court,
And many kings since him : the rooms are large,
The building stately, and for strength beside,
It is the safest and the surest hold you have.
P. Ed. Uncle of Gloster ! if you think it so,
*Tis not for me to contradict your will j
We must allow it, and are well content.
THE SECOND PART OF ACT III.
Glos. On then, a God's name I
P. Ed. Yet, before we go,
One question more with you, master Lieutenant :
We like you well $ and, but we do perceive
More comfort in your looks than in these walls a
For all our uncle Gloster's friendly speech,
Our hearts would be as heavy still as lead.
I pray you tell me, at which door or gate
Was it my uncle Clarence did go in,
When he was sent a prisoner to this place ?
Bra. At this, my liege ! Why sighs your majesty ?
P. Ed. He went in here that ne'er came back again !
But as God hath decreed, so let it be !
Come, brother, shall we go ?
P. R. Yes, brother ; any where with you.
[Exeunt the Princes, GLOSTER and LOVELL,
BRACKENBURY and SHORE.
Tyr. (pulls CATESBY by the sleeve.} Sir, were it best
I did attend the Duke,
Or stay his leisure till his back return ?
Cat. I pray you, master Tyrrel, stay without :
It is not good you should be seen by day
Within the Tower, especially at this time 5
Til tell his honour of your being here,
And you shall know his pleasure presently.
Tyr. Even so, sir. Men would be glad by any means
To raise themselves, that have been overthrown
By fortune's scorn ; and I am one of them.
[Re-enter the Duke of GLOSTEB.
Here comes the Duke !
Glos. Catesby ! is this the man ?
Cat. It is, ift like your excellency.
Glos. Come near.
Thy name, I hear, is Tyrrel, is it not ?
Tyr. James Tyrrel is my name^ my gracious lord !
SCEKE III. KING EDWARD IV. 153
Glos. Welcome ! it should appear that thou hast been
In better state than now it seems thou art.
Tyr. I have been, by my fay, my lord ! though now
depressed
And clouded over with adversity.
Glos. Be rul'd by me, and thou shalt rise again.
And prove more happy than thou ever wast.
There is but only two degrees by which
It shall be needful for thee to ascend,
And that is, faith and taciturnity.
Tyr. If ever I prove false unto your grace.
Convert your favour to afflictions.
Glos. But canst thou too be secret ?
Tyr. Try me, my lord,
Tliis tongue was never known to be a blab,
Glos. Thy countenance hath, like a silver key,
Open'd the closet of my heart. Read there 5
If, scholar-like, thou canst expound those lines,
Thou art the man ordain'd to serve my turn.
Tyr. So far as my capacity will reach,
The sense, my lord, is this. This night, you say,
The two young Princes both must suffer death.
Glos. Thou hast my meaning. Wilt thou do it? speak.
Tyr. It shall be done.
Glos. Enough ! come, follow me,
For thy direction, and for gold to fee
Such as must aid thee in their tragedy. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Flower-de-luce Inn, Lombard Street.
Enter Mrs. BLAGUE and JOCKY, with a portmanteau.
Mrs. Bla* Welcome, good Jocky ! what good news
bring you ?
Jocky. Marry, maistress ! my gude maistress greets
154 THE SECOND PART OF ACT III.
ye, maistress, and prays ye, maistress, till dight up her
chamber, for she'll lig wi' ye to-night, maistress. And
here's her cat-skin till she come.
Enter JANE SHOEE.
Jane. Why, how now, loiterer? make ye no more haste?
When will my trunks and all my stuff be brought,
If you thus loiter? Go, make haste withal.
Jocky. Marry, sail I> gin ye'll be bud peetient a while.
[Exit.
Jane. Good gentle mistress Blague, the only friend
That fortune leaves me to rely upon,
My counsel's closet and my tower of strength,
To whom for safety I retire myself,
To be secure in these tempestuous times,
O smile on me, and give me gentle looks.
If I be welcome, then with cheerful heart
And willing hand, show me true signs thereof.
Mrs. Bla* Doubt ye of welcome, lady, to your friend ?
Nay, to your servant, to your beadswoman,
To speak but truth, your bounty's bondwoman ?
Use me, command me, call my house your own,
And all I have, sweet lady, at your will.
Jane. Away with titles, lay by courtly terms.
The case is altered now the King is dead ;
And with his life my favouring friends are fled.
No madam now, but, as I was before,
Your faithful kind companion, poor Jane Shore !
Mrs. Bla. I lov'd you then, and since, and ever shall.
You are the woman, though your fortunes fall :
You, when my husband's lewd transgression
Of all our wealth had lost possession,
By forfeiture into his highness"* hands,
Got restitution of our goods and lands.
He fled, and died in France : to heal that harm,
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 155
You help'd me to three manors in fee-farm,
The worst of which clears three score pound a year.
Have I not reason, then, to hold ye dear ?
Yes, hap what will, until my life do end,
Ycu are and shall be my best beloved friend.
Jane. How, if misfortune my folly do succeed ?
Mrs. Bla. Trust me, true friends bide touch in time of
need.
Jane. If want consume the wealth I had before ?
Mrs. Bla. My wealth is your's, and yoii shall spend
my store.
Jane. But the Protector prosecutes his hate.
Mrs. Bla. With me live secret from the world's debate.
Jane. You will be weary of so bad a guest.
Mrs. Bla. Then let me never on the earth be blest.
Jane. Ah, mistress Blague ! you tender me such love,
As all my sorrows from my soul remove ;
And though my portion be not very large,
Yet come I not to you to be a charge.
Coin, plate, and jewels, priz'd at lowest rate,
I bring with me, to maintain my estate,
Worth twenty thousand pound, and my array.
If you survive to see my dying day,
From you no penny will I give away.
Mrs. Bla. And I (thank you that so my wealth
increased)
Am worth, I trow, ten thousand pounds at least.
I think like two warm widows we may live,
Until good fortune two good husbands give 5
For surely, mistress Shore, your husband's dead :
When heard ye of him ?
Jane. Never since he fled,
O, mistress Blague, now put you in my head
That kills my heart. Why should I breathe this air,
Whose lost good name no treasure can repair ?
1/56 THE SECOND PART OF ACT III.
O, were he here with me to lead his life,
Although he never used me as a wife,
But as a drudge to spurn me with his feet,
Yet should I think with him that life were sweet.
Mrs. Bla. How can ye once conceit so base a thing,
That have been kiss'd and cocker'd by a King ?
Weep not; you hurt yourself, by God's blest mother !
Your husband's dead, woman ! think upon another !
Let us in to supper : drink wine : cheer your heart 5
And whilst I live, be sure I'll take your part. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The Tower.
Enter BRACKENBURY", SHORE, DIGHTON, FORREST,
and TYRREL.
Tyr. Sir, I assure you/tis my lord Protector's warrant.
Bra. My friend, I have conferred it with his letters,
And 'tis his hand,, indeed, I'll not deny.
But blame me not, although I be precise
In matters that so nearly do concern me.
Digh. My lord Protector, sir, I make no doubt,
Dare justify his warrant, though perhaps
He doth not now acquaint you why he doth it.
Bra. I think, sir, there^s no subject now in England
Will urge his grace to show what he dare do ;
Nor will I ask him why he does it j
(Aside.} I would I might, to rid me of my doubt.
For. Why, sir, I think he needs no precedent
For what he does : I think his power is absolute
enough.
Bra. I have no pow'r, sir, to examine it,
Nor will : I do obey your warrant,
Which I will keep for my security.
Tyr. You shall do well in that, sir.
Bra. Here's the toys.
SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 157
Shore, (aside to BRA.) And yet I could wish my lord
Protector
Had sent his warrant hither by some other.
I do not like their looks, I tell you true.
Bra. (to SHORE.) Nor I, Flood, I assure thee.
For. What does that slave mutter to his master ?
JDiffh. I hear him say he does not like our looks.
Tyr. Why not our looks, sir ?
Far. Sirrah, we hear you.
Shore. I am glad you do, sir : all is one for that.
But, if you did not, hearken better now !
I never saw three faces in whose looks
Did ever sit more terror, or more death.
God bless the princes, if it be his will !
I do not like these villains.
Diffh. Zounds, stab the villain ! Sirrah, do you
brave us ?
Shore. Ay, that's your coming 5 for you come to stab.
For. Stab him !
Shore. Nay, then, I'll stab with thee.
Tyr. 'Sblood, cut his throat !
Bra. Hold, gentlemen, I pray you.
Shore. Sir, I am hurt stabb'd in the arm.
Bra. This is not to be justified, my friends
To draw your weapons here within the Tower,
And by the law it is no less than death.
I cannot think the Duke will like of this.
I pray ye be content : too much is done.
Tyr. He might have held his peace, then, and been quiet.
Farewell, farewell ! [Exeunt DIGHT. FOR. and TYR.
Shore. Hell and damnation follow murderers !
Bra. Go, Flood,
Get thee some surgeon to look to thy wound.
Hast no acquaintance with some skilful surgeon ?
Keep thy wound close, and let it not take air.
158 THE SECOND PART OF ACT III.
And for my own part, I will not stay here.
Whither wilt thou go, that I may send to thee.
Shore. To one Mistress Blague's, an inn, in Lombard
Street.
There you shall find me, or shall hear of me.
Bra. Sweet princely babes, farewell ! I fear you sore :
I doubt these eyes shall never see you more. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. A Bed-room in the Tower.
Enter the two young Princes, EDWARD and RICHARD,
in their bedgowns and caps, unbuttoned.
Ric* How does your lordship ?
Ed. Well, good brother Richard.
How does yourself? you told me your head ached.
Ric. Indeed it does, my lord ! feel with your hands
How hot it is !
Ed. Indeed you have caught cold,
With sitting yesternight to hear me read.
I pray thee go to bed, sweet Dick ! poor little heart.
Ric. You'll give me leave to wait upon your lordship.
Ed. I had more need, brother, to wait on you ;
For you are sick ; and so am not I.
Ric. Oh, lord ! methinks this going to our bed,
How like it is to going to our grave.
Ed. I pray thee, do not speak of graves, sweet heart.
Indeed thou frightest me.
Ric. Why, my lord brother, did not our tutor teach us,
That when at night we went unto our bed,
We still should think we went unto our grave.
Ed. Yes, that's true,
If we should do as ev*ry Christian ought,
To be prepared to die at ev*ry hour.
But I am heavy.
Ric. Indeed, and so am I.
SCENE V. KING EDWARD IV. 159
Ed. Then let us say our prayers and go to bed.
[They kneel, and solemn music within.
It ceases, and they rise.
Ric. What, bleeds your grace ?
Ed. Ay, two drops and no more.
Hie. God bless us both ; and I desire no more.
Ed. Brother, see here what David says, and so say I :
Lord ! in thee will I trust, although I die. [Exeunt.
Enter TYEBEL.
Tyr. Go, lay ye down, but never more to rise !
I have put my hand into the foulest murder
That ever was committed since the world.
The very senseless stones here in the walls
Break out in tears but to behold the fact.
Methinks the bodies lying dead in graves
Should rise and cry against us. (a noise within.) O hark,
hark!
The mandrakes* shrieks are music to their cries.
The very night is frighted, and the stars
Do drop like torches to behold this deed !
The very centre of the earth doth shake !
Methinks the Tower should rent down from the top,
To let the heav'n look on this monstrous deed.
Enter, at one door, DIGHTON, with EDWARD under his
arm, at the other, FORREST, with RICHARD.
Digh. Stand further, damned rogue ! and come not
near me.
For. Nay, stand thou further, villain, stand aside !
Digh. Are we not both damn'd for this cursed deed ?
For. Thou art the witness that thou bear'st the King.
Digh. And what bear'st thou ?
For* It is too true. Oh, I am damnM indeed !
ing at RICHARD.)
160 THE SECOKD PART OF ACT III.
Tyr. I am as deep as you, although my hand
Did not the deed.
Digh. O villain, art thou there ?
For. A plague light on thee 1
Tyr. Curse not,
A thousand plagues will light upon us all.
{They lay the bodies down.
The priest here in the Tower will bury them.
Let us away. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. The Fleur-de-luee Inn.
Enter Mrs. BLAGUE and two Men, bringing in SHORE
in a chair ) his arm bleeding.
Mrs. Bla. So, set him here awhile, where is more air.
How cheer you, sir ? Alack, he doth begin
To change his colour ! Where is mistress Shore ?
Gone to her closet for a precious balm,
The same (she said) King Edward us'd himself.
Alack, I fear he'll die before she come.
Rim quickly for some rosa-solis. Faint not, sir \
Be of good comfort. Come, good mistress Shore,
What have you there ?
Enter JANE SHORE.
Jane. Stand by, and give me leave.
Mrs. Bla. Unhappy me, to lodge him in my house !
Jane. I warrant you, woman ! be not so afraid.
If not thi^ blood-stone hang'd about his neck.
This balm will stanch it, by the help of God.
Lift up his arnr, whilst I do bathe his wound.
The sign belike was here when he was hurt,
Or else some principal and chief vein is pierc'd.
Mrs. Bla. However, sure the surgeon was a knave,
That look'd no better to him at the first.
SCENE VI. KING EDWARD IV. 161
Jane. Blame him not, Mistress Blague; the best of them,
In such a case as this, may be to seek.
Mrs. Bla. Now, God be blessed 1 see the crimson blood,
That was precipitate and falling down
Into his arm, retires into his face.
How fare you, sir ? how do you feel yourself ?
Shore. Oh, wherefore have you wak'd me from my
sleep ?
And broke the quiet slumber I was in ?
Methought I sate in such a pleasant place,
So full of all delight as never eye
Beheld, nor heart of man could comprehend.
If you had let me go, I felt no pain ;
But being now revoked, my grief renews.
Jane. Give him some rosa~solis 9 mistress Blague,
And that will likewise animate the spirits,
And send alacrity unto the heart,
That hath been struggling with the pangs of death.
Mrs. Bla. Here, sir, drink this; you need not fear it, sir 5
It is no hurt : see, I will be your taster :
Then drink, I pray you.
Jane. Now, fellows, raise his body from the chair,
And gently let him walk a turn or two.
Mrs. Bla. Good sooth, mistress Shore, I did not think
till now
You had been such a cunning-skilled physician.
Shore. Oh, mistress Blague, though I must needs
confess
It would have been more welcome to my soul
If I had died, and been removed, at last,
From the confused troubles of this world,
Whereof I have sustained no mean weight,
Than lingering here, be made a packhorse still
Of torments, in comparison of which
Death is but as the pricking of a thorn,
M
162 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV-
Yet I do thank you for your taken pains.
And would to God I could requite your love 1
Mrs. Bla. Sir, I did you little good. What was done,
Ascribe the benefit and praise thereof
Unto the gentlewoman, kind mistress Shore,
Who, next to God, preserved your feeble lifo.
Shore. How ! mistress Shore ! good friends, let go your
hold!
My strength is now sufficient of itself.
(Aside). Oh, is it she that still prolongs my woe ?
Was it ordain'd not only at the first
She should be my destruction, but now twice,
When gracious destinies had brought about
To end this weary pilgrimage of mine,
Must she, and none but she, prevent that good,
And stop my entrance to eternal bliss ?
Oh, lasting plague, oh, endless corrosive !
It now repents me double that I 'scaped
Since's life's made death, and life's author hate !
Jane. Sir, take my counsel, and sit down again.
It is not good to be so bold of foot
Upon the sudden, till you have more strength.
Shore. Mistress, I thank you, and I care not much
If I be rul'd by you. (sits.)
(Aside.) Oh, God, that she should pity me unknown,
That, knowing me, by her was overthrown $
Or ignorantiy she should regard this smart,
That heretofore spar'd not to stab my heart ! [Exeunt .
ACT IV.
SCENE I. The same.
Enter BRACXENBURY and .MTS.BLAGITE and JANK SHORE.
Bra. By your leave, mistress Blague, Fm somewhat
bold.
SCKNE I. KING EDWARD IV. 16(5
Is there not a gentleman within your house,
Call'd master Flood, came hither hurt last night ?
Mrs. Bla. Is his name Flood ? I knew it not till nc\v ;
But here he is, and well recovered,
Thanks to this gentlewoman, mistress Shore.
Bra. Pardon me, mistress Shore, I saw you not:
And trust me, I am sorry at the heart
So good a creature as yourself hath been
Should be so vilely dealt with as you are.
I promise you, the world laments your case.
Jane. How mean you, sir ? I understand you not.
Lament my case for what ? for Edward's death ?
I know that I have lost a gracious friend ;
But that is not to be remedied now.
Bra. No, mistress Shore ! it is for Richard's hate,
That too much envies your prosperity.
Jane. I know he loves me not, and for that cause,
I have withdrawn me wholly from the Court.
Bra. You have not seen the proclamation, then ?
Jane. The proclamation ! No. What proclamation ?
Bra. Ah, mistress Shore ! The King, in every street
Of London and in every borough town
Throughout this land, hath publicly proclaimed,
On pain of death, that none shall harbour you,
Or give you food, or clothes to keep you warm ;
Butj having first done shameful penance here,
You shall be then thrust forth the city-gates
Into the naked, cold, forsaken field.
I fable not ; I would to God I did !
See, here's the manner of it put in print ;
*Tis to be told in every stationers shop,
Besides a number of them clappM on posts,
Where people crowding, as they read your fall.
Some murmur, and some sigh ; but most of them
Have their relenting eyes ev'n big with tears.
164? THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV,
Jane. God's will be done ! I know my sin is great,
And he that is omnipotent and just
Cannot but must reward me heavily.
Bra. It grieves me, mistress Shore, it was my chance
To be the first reporter of this news.
Jane. Let it not grieve j I must have heard of it,
And now as good as at another time.
Bra. I pray ye, mistress Blague, have care of Flood ;
And what his charge is, I will see you paid. [Exit.
Enter SHORE in the background.
Jane. Farewell to all ! that still shall be my song,
Let men impose upon me ne'er such wrong ;
And this extremity shall seem the less,
In that I have a friend to lean unto.
Sweet mistress Blague I there were upon the earth
No comfort left for miserable Jane,
But that I do presume upon your love.
I know, though tyrant Richard had set down
A greater penalty than is proclaimed,
(Which cannot well be thought) yet in your house
I should have succour and relief beside.
Mrs. Bla. What! and so I should be a traitor,
should I?
Is that the care you have of me and mine ?
I thank you, truly ; no, there's no such matter.
I love you well, but love myself better.
As long as you were held a true subject,
I made account of you accordingly $
But, being otherwise, I do reject you,
And will not cherish my king's enemy.
You know the danger of the proclamation :
I would to God you would depart my house !
Jane, When was it ever seen Jane Shore was false
Either unto her country or her king ?
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 165
And therefore 'tis not well, good mistress Blague,
That you upbraid me with a traitor's name.
Mrs, Bla. Ay, but you have been a wicked liver,
And now you see what it is to be unchaste :
You should have kept you with your honest husbaud :
"Twas never other like but that such filthiness
Would have a foul and detestable end.
Jane. Time was that you did tell me otherwise.
And studied how to set a gloss on that,
Which now you say is ugly and deformed.
Mrs. Bla. I told you then as then the time did serve,
And more, indeed, to try your disposition,
Than any way to encourage you to sin.
But when I saw you were ambitious,
And faintly stood on terms of modesty,
I left you to your own arbitrament.
Can you deny it was not so ? how say you ?
Jane. We will not, mistress Blague, dispute of that ;
But now, in charity and womanhood,
Let me find favour, if it be but this,
That in some barn or stable I may shrowd,
Till otherwise I be provided for.
Mrs. Bla. I pray you, do not urge me, mistress Shore !
I will not have my house endangered so.
Jane. Oh, you did promise I should never want,
And that your house was mine, and swore the same.
To keep your oath be then compassionate.
Mrs. Bla. So you did swear you would be true to Shore;
But you were not so good as was your word.
My oath's discharged now, by the King's command.
Jane. Yet let me have those jewels and that money
Which is within my trunks.
Mrs. Bla. I know of none.
If there be any, I will be so bold
As keep it for your diet and your man's.
166 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV.
It is no little charge I have been at
To feed your dainty tooth, since you came hither ;
Beside, house-room, Fm sure, is something worth.
Shore, (aside.) Ah, Jane ! I cannot choose but pity tliee.
Here's the first step to thy deep misery !
Jane. Oh, that my grave had then been made my house,
When either first I went unto the Court,
Or from the Court return 9 d unto this place !
Enter two Apparitors.
Servant. How now, what are you ? it had been
manners,
You should have knocked before you had come in.
First Ap. We are the Bishop's 'parators, my friend ;
And, mistress Shore, our errand is to you.
This day, it is commanded by the King,
You must be stript out of your rich attire,
And in a white sheet go from Temple-bar
Until you come to Aldgate, bare-footed,
*e4jr ,hair about your ears, and in your hand
A burning taper. Therefore, go with us.
Jane. Even when and whither you will 3 and would to
God,
The King as soon could rid my soul of sin,
As he may strip my body of these rags !
Sec. Ap. That would be soon enough : but come away.
And, mistress Blague, you'll hardly answer it,
When it is known we found her in your house.
First Ap. It seems you do not fear to harbour her.
Mrs. Bla. I harbour her? out on her, strumpet quean !
She press'd upon me, whe'r I would or no.
I'll see her hang'd e'er I will harbour her.
Enter CATESBY and
So now, her jewels and her gold is mine,
SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 167
And I am made at least four thousand pound
Wealthier by this match than I was before :
And what can be objected for the same ?
That once I lov'd her : well, porhaps I did ;
But now I am of another humour ;
And women all are govern'd by the moon,
Which is, you know, a planet that will change.
Cat. Come, master Sheriff of London! do your
office.
Attach this rebel to his majesty,
And, having stript her to the petticoat,
Turn her out o* doors, with this condition,
That no man harbour her that durst presume
To harbour that lewd curtezan, Shore's wife,
Against the strait commandment of the King.
Mrs. Bla. I beseech you, sir.
Cat. Away with her, I say.
The while I'll seize upon her house and goods 3
Which wholly are confiscate to the King. [Exeunt.
Shore, (solus.) Oh, what have I beheld? were I as
young
As when I came to London to be 'prentice,
This pageant were sufficient to instruct
And teach me ever after to be wise.
First have I seen desert of wantonness
And breach of wedlock j then of flattery ;
Next, of dissembling love 5 and last of all,
The ruin of base-catching avarice.
But, poor Jane Shore 1 in that I lov*d thee once,
And was thy husband, I must pity thee.
The sparks of old affection, long ago
Rak'd up in ashes of displeasure, kindle ;
And in this furnace of adversity
The world shall see a husband's loyalty. [Exit.
168 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV.
SCENE II. A room in Dr. Shaw's House.
Enter Dr. SHAW, reading.
Shaw. Spuria vitulamina non agent radices altas.
Bastardly slips have always slender growth.
Ah, Shaw ! this was the cursed theme
That, at Paul's cross, thou mad'st thy sermon of,
To prove the lawful issue of thy King,
Got out of wedlock, illegitimate.
Ah, Duke of Gloster ! this dicTst thou procure.
Did Richard, villain ? No, it was thy fault,
Thou would'st be won to such a damned deed.
Which now to think on makes my soul to bleed.
Ah, friar Anselm ! sleep among the blest :
Thy prophecy thus falsely did I wrest.
Enter the Ghost of Friar ANSELM, ivith a lighted torch.
An. Thou did'st ; and be thou daran'd therefore !
Ne'er come thy soul where blessedness abides !
Didst thou not know the letter G. was Gloster ?
Shaw. Anselm, I did.
An. Why, then, didst thou affirm
That it was meant by George the Duke of Clarence ?
That honourable harmless gentleman,
Whose thoughts all innocent as any child,
Yet came, through thee, to such a luckless death.
Shaw. I was enforced by the Duke of Gloster.
An. Enforced, saist thou? would'st thou then be enforced,
Being a man of thy profession,
To sin so vilely, and with thine own mouth
To damn thy soul ? No ; thou wast not enforc*d ;
But gain and hope of high promotion
Hir'd thee thereto. Say, was it so, or no ?
Shaw. It did, it did.
An. Why, then, record in thy black hellish thoughts
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 169
How many mischiefs have ensued hereon J
First, wrongM Clarence drowned in the Tower ;
Next, Edward's children murder'd in the Tower ;
This day, at Pomfret, noble gentlemen
Three, the Queen's kindred, lose their harmless heads,
Think'st thou that here this flood of mischief stays ?
No, villain, many are marked to the block,
And they the nearest, think them farthest off.
Ev'n Buckingham, creator of that king,
Shall he to woe and wretched ending bring.
All this (accursed man) hath come by thee,
And thy false wresting of my prophecy,
For England's good, disclosed to thy trust ;
And so it had been, had'st thou proved just.
But thou, and ev'ry one that had a hand
In that most woful murder of the princes
To fatal ends you are appointed all.
Here in thy study shalt thou starve thyself,
And from this hour not taste one bit of food.
The rest shall after follow, on a row,
To all their deaths j vengeance will not be slow.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Where is master Doctor Shaw ?
Shaw. Here, friend 3 what is thy will with me ?
Mes. King Richard prays ye to come to him strait,
For he would be confessed.
Shaw. I cannot come. I pray thee, take that Friar 3
For he can do it better far than I.
Mes. A friar, master Doctor ! I see none.
Shaw. Dost thou not ? No : thy untainted soul
Cannot discern the horrors that I do.
An. Shaw, go with him 3 and tell that tyrant Richard,
He hath but three years limited for life ;
And then a shameful death takes hold on him.
170 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV.
That done, return ; and in thy study end
Thy loathed life, that didst us all offend.
Shaw. With all my heart* Would it were ended now !
So it were done, I care not where nor how. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Aldgate.
Enter the two Apparitors^ ivith JANE SHORE in a white
sheet) with her hair hose, and a way taper in her hand.
First Ap. Now, mistress Shore, here our commission
ends.
Put off your robe of shame ; for this is Aldgate,
Whither it was appointed we should bring you.
Jane. My robe of shame ! Oh, that so foul a name
Should be applied unto so fair a garment !
Which is no more to be condemned of shame
Than snow of putrefaction is deserved,
To cover an infectious heap of dung.
My robe of shame, but not my shame, put off;
For that sits branded on my forehead still,
And therefore, in derision, was I wrapt
In this white sheet ; and in derision bore
This burning taper, to express my folly,
That having light of reason to direct me,
Delighted yet in by-ways of dark error.
Sec.Ap. Well, mistress Shore ! I hope you grudge not us.
We show'd you all the favour poor men could.
Jane. Oh, God forbid ! I know the King's edict
Set you a- work, and not your own desires.
First Ap. Ay, truly, mistress j and for our parts
We could be well content 'twere otherwise^
But that the law's severe. And so we leave you. \E,veunt.
Jane. Farewell to you both ! and London too !
Farewell to thee, where I was first enticed,
That scandaliz'd thy dignity with shame 5
SCEtfE III. KING EDWARD IV. 171
But now thou hast return'd me treble blame ;
My tongue, that gave consent, enjoin' d to beg ;
Mine eyes adjudged to hourly laments ;
Mine arms, for their embracings, catch the air ;
And these quick, nimble feet, that were so ready
To step into a King's forbidden bed,
London ! thy flints have punish'd for their pride,
And thou hast drunk their blood for thy revenge.
What now avails to think what I have been ?
Then welcome, nakedness and poverty !
Welcome, contempt ! welcome, you barren fields !
Welcome the lack of meat and lack of friends !
And, wretched Jane ! according to thy state,
Sit here, sit here, and lower if might be !
All things that breathe, in their extremity,
Have some recourse of succour. Thou hast none.
The child, offended, flies unto the mother.
The soldier, struck, retires unto his Captain.
The fish, distressed, slides into the river.
Birds of the air do fly unto their dams,
And underneath their wings are quickly shrouded.
Nay, beat the spaniel, and his master moans him.
But I have neither where to shroud myself,
Nor any one to make my moan unto.
Come, patience, then ; and, though my body pine,
Make thou a banquet to refresh my soul.
Let heart's deep throbbing sighs be all my bread ;
My drink salt tears ; my guests repentant thoughts 5
That whoso knew me, and doth see me now,
May shun by me the breach of wedlock's vow.
Enter BKACKENBURY, with a prayer-book, and some
relief in a cloth.
Bra. Oh 3 God ! how full of dangers grow these times,
And no assurance seen in any state
172 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV.
No man can say that he is master now
Of any thing is his, such is the tide
Of sharp disturbance running through the land !
I have given over my office in the Tower,
Because I cannot brook their vile complots,
Nor smother such outrageous villanies.
But, mistress Shore to be so basely wrong'd
And vilely us'd, that hath so well deserved,
It doth afflict me in the very soul !
She sav'd my kinsman's, Harry Stranguidge, life ;
Therefore, in duty am I bound to her
To do what good I may, though law forbid.
See where she sits ! God comfort thee, good soul !
First, take that to relieve thy body with ;
And next receive this book, wherein is food,
Manna of Heaven to refresh thy soul !
These holy meditations, mistress Shore !
Will yield much comfort in this misery,
Whereon contemplate still, and never lin,
That God may be unmindful of thy sin.
Jane. Master Lieutenant ! in my heart I thank ye
For this kind comfort to a wretched soul.
Welcome, sweet pray&r-book, food of my life.
The sovereign balm for my sick conscience !
Thou shalt be my soul's pleasure and delight,
To wipe my sins out of Jehovah's sight.
Bra. Do so, good Mistress Shore. Now I must leave ye,
Because some other bus 'ness calls me hence 5
And God, J pray, regard your penitence ! [Exit.
Jane. Farewell, sir Robert I and for this good to me,
The God of Heav'n be mindful still of thoe !
As she sits weeping and praying* Enter on one side
AYBE, and on the other RUFFOBD.
Ayre* This way she went, and cannot be far off*:
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 178
For but ev'n now I met the officers
That were attendant on her in her penance.
Yonder she sits ! now then, Ayre ! show thyself
Thankful to her, that sometime sav'd thy life.
When law had made thee subject to base death.
Give her thy purse ; for here comes somebody.
Stand by awhile, for fear thou be discovered.
Rttf. What, mistress Shore ? King Edward's con-
cubine
Set on a molehill ? oh, disparagement !
A throne were fitter for your ladyship.
Fie, will you slubber these fair cheeks with tears, <
Or sit so solitary ? where's all your servants ?
Where is your gown of silk, your periwigs,
Your fine rebatoes, and your costly jewels ?
What, not so much as a shoe upon your foot ?
Nay, then, I see the world goes hard with whores.
Ayre. The villain slave gibes at her misery.
Ruf. Now, whether is it better to be in Court,
And there to beg a licence of the King,
For transportation of commodities,
Than here to sit forsaken as thou dost ?
I think, upon condition Edward lived,
And thou were still in favour as before,
Thou wouldst not say that Rufford had deserved
To have his ears rent for a worser suit
Than licence to ship over corn and lead.
What, not a word ! 'faith, wench ! I'll tell thee what ;
If thou dost think thy old trade out of date,
Go learn to play the bawd another while.
Ayre. Inhuman wretch ! why dost thou scorn her so ?
And vex her grieved soul with bitter taunts ?
Ruf. Because I will. She is a curtizan,
And one abhorred of the world for lust.
Ayre. If all thy faults were in thy forehead writ,
174 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV.
Perhaps thou would'st thyself appear no less,
But much more, horrible than she doth now.
Rufn You are no judge of mine, sir.
Ayre. Why, nor thou of her.
Ruf* The world hath judgM and found her guilty,
And 'tis the King's command she be held odious.
Ayre. The King of Heav'n commandeth otherwise ;
And if thou be not willing to relieve her,
Let it suffice thou seest her miserable,
And study not to amplify her grief.
Enter Mrs. BLAGUE, poorly drest, begging with her
basket and clap- dish.
What other woful spectacle comes here ?
\Wlien RUFFORD looks away^ AYRE gives his
purse to JANE SHORE.
Mistress, take that, and spend it for my sake.
Mrs. Sla. Oh, I am pinch'd with more than common
want.
Where shall I find relief? Good gentleman,
Pity a wretched woman, like to starve,
And I will pray for ye. One halfpenny.
For Christ's sake, to comfort me withal.
Rvf. What, Mistress Blague ! is't you? no marvel, sure,
But you should be relieved : a halfpenny, quotha ?
Ay, marry, sir ; and so be hang'd myself!
Not I : this gentleman may, if he please.
Get you to your companion, mistress Shore,
And then there is a pair of queans well met.
Now I bethink me, I'll go to the King,
And tell him that some will relieve Shore's wife,
Except some officer there be appointed
That carefully regards it be not so.
Therefore, myself will I make offer to him,
Which questionless he cannot but accept :
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 175
So shall I still pursue Shore's wife with hate,
That scorn' d me in her high whore's estate. [Exit.
Mrs. Bla. Good gentleman, bestow your charity !
One single halfpenny to help my need.
Ayre. Not one, were I the Master of the Mint.
What ? succour thee that didst betray thy friend ?
See where she sits ! whom thou didst scorn indeed,
And therefore rightly art thou scorn'd again.
Thou thought'st to be enriched with her goods,
But thou hast now lost both thy own and her's ;
And for my part, knew I 'twould save thy life,
Thou should* st not get so much as a crumb of bread.
Pack, counterfeit ! pack away, dissembling drab !
Mrs. Bla. Oh, misery ! but shall I stay to look
Her in the face whom I so much have wronged ?
Jane. Yes, mistress Blague ! I freely pardon you.
You have done me no wrong. Come, sit by me.
*Twas so in wealth ; why not in poverty ?
Mrs. Bla. Oh, willingly, if you can brook her presence,
Whom you have greater reason to despise.
Jane. Why, woman ! Richard, that hath banished me
And seeks my ruin (causeless though it be)
Do I in heart pray for, and will do still.
Come thou, and share with me what God hath sent :
A stranger gave it me 5 and part thereof
I do as freely now bestow on you.
Mrs. Bla. I thank you, mistress Shore 1 this courtesy
Renews the grief of my inconstancy.
Enter SHORE, with relief for his JFife.
Shore, (aside.) Yonder she sits,how like a withered tree,
That is in winter leafless and bereft
Of lively sap, sits the poor abject soul !
How much unlike the woman is she now,
She was but yesterday 1 so short and brittle
176 THE SECOND PART OF ACT TV-
Is this world's happiness ! But who is that ?
False mistress Blague ? how canst thou brook her,
Jane?
Ay, thou wast always mild and pitiful 1
Oh, hadst thou been as chaste, we had been blest !
But now no more of that : she shall not starve.
So long as this, and such as this, may serve.
(Aloud.) Here, mistress Shore ! feed on these homely
cates,
And there is wine to drink them down withal.
Jane. Good sir, your name ? that pities poor Jane
Shore,
That in my prayers I may remember you.
Shore. No matter for my name; I am a friend
That loves you well. So farewell, mistress Shore !
When that is spent, I vow to bring you more. [Eorlt.
Jane. God's blessing be your guide, where'er you go !
Thus, mistress Blague, you see, amidst our woe,
For all the world can do, God sends relief,
And will not yet we perish in our grief.
Come, let us step into some secret place,
Where undisturb'd we may partake this grace.
Mrs. Bla. *Tis not amiss, if you be so content,
For here the field's too open and frequent. [Exeunt.
Re-enter SJHTOBE.
Shore. What, is she gone so soon ? alack, poor Jane,
Now I compassionate thy woful case !
Whereas we liv*d together man and wife,
Oft on an humble stool by the fire-side
Sat she contented, when as my high heat
Would chide her for it $ but what would she say ?
" Husband, we both must lower sit one day,"
When I dare swear she never dream'd of this :
But see, good God ! what prophesying is !
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 177
Enter RUFFORD and FOGG with the counterfeit
letters-patent. SHORE stands aside.
Ruf. This is King Richard's hand ; I know it well ;
And this of thine is justly counterfeit,
As he himself would swear it were his own.
Shore (aside.) The King's hand counterfeit ! list more
of that.
Ruf. Why, ev'ry letter, ev'ry little dash
In all respects alike ! Now may I use
My transportation of my corn and hides,
Without the danger of forbidding law ;
And so I would have done in Edward's days,
But that good mistress Shore did please to cross me ;
But mark how now I will requite her for it !
I mov'd my suit, and plainly told the King
Some would relieve her, if no man had charge
To see severely to the contrary.
Forthwith his grace appointed me the man,
And gave me officers to wait upon me,
Which will so countenance thy cunning work,
As I shall no way be suspected in it.
How saist thou, Fogg ?
Fogg* It will do well, indeed.
But, good sir, have a care in any case,
For else you know what harm may coine thereon.
Ruf. A care, say'st thou ? Why, man, I will not trust
My house, my strongest locks, nor any place
But mine own bosom. There will I keep it still.
If I miscarry, so doth it with me.
Shore, (aside.) Are ye so cunning, sir ? I say no more.
Jane Shore or I may quittance you for this. [Exit*
Ruf. Well, Fogg ! I have contented thee.
Thou may'st be gone : I must about my charge,
To see that none relieve Shore's wife with aught,
[Exit FOGG.
N
178 THE SECOND PART OF ACT IV.
Enter the Officers, with bills.
Come on, good fellows ! you that must attend
King Richard's service, under my command,
Your charge is to be very vigilant
Over that strumpet, whom they call Shore's wife.
If any traitor give her but a mite,
A draught of water, or a crust of bread,
Or any other food, whatever it be,
Lay hold on him 5 for it is present death
By good King Richard's proclamation.
This is her haunt : here stand I sentinel.
Keep you unseen, and aid me when I call.
Enter JOCKY and JEFFREY, with a bottle of ale, cheese^
and halfpenny loaves, to play at bowls. Enter JANE
SHORE, and sits where she was wont.
Jocky. Now must I, under colour of playing at bowls,
help till relieve my gude maistress, maistress Shore.
Come, Jeffrey ! we will play five up, for this bottle of
ale, and yonder gude puir woman shall keep the stakes,
and this cheese shall be the maister.
[They play towards her 9 and JOCKY often gives her
pieces of foody till JEFFREY being called away, he
gives her all, and is apprehended by the Officers.
Ruf. Here is a villain that will not relieve her.
But yet he'll lose : he bowls that way to help her.
Apprehend him, fellows, when I bid ye.
Although his mate be gone, he shall pay for it.
Take him, and let the beadles whip him well.
Jocky. Hear ye, sir ! shall they be whipt and hanged
that give to the puir? then they shall be damned that
take fro' the puir. [He is led away.
Re-enter AYRE, and SHORE aloof.
Ayre. Ah, yonder sits the sweet forsaken soul
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 179
To whom for ever I stand deeply bound.
She sav'd my life : then, Ayre, help to save her's.
Ruf. Whither go ye, sir ?
You come to give this strumpet some relief.
Ayre. She did more good than ever thou can'st do,
And if thou wilt not pity her thyself,
Give others leave, by duty bound thereto,
Here, mistress Shore ! take this ; and would to God
It were so much as my poor heart could wish !
[Gives his purse.
Shore (aside.) Who is it that thus pities my poor wife ?
*Tis Master Ayre ; God*s blessing on him for it !
Ruf. Darest thou do so, Ayre ?
Ayre. Rufford, I dare do more.
(To JANE.) Here is my ring: it weighs an ounce of
gold;
And take my cloak to keep ye from the cold*
Rtif. Thou art a traitor, Ayre.
Ayre. Rufford, thou art a villain so to call me.
Ritf. Lay hold on him. Attach him, officers !
Ayre. Rufford ! Ill answer thine arrest with this.
[Draws his rapier, but is apprehended.
Ruf. All this contending, sir, will not avail.
This treason will be rated at thy life.
Ayre. Life is too little for her sake that sav'd it.
Shore. Is he a traitor, sir, for doing good ?
God save the King ! a true heart means no ill.
I trust he hath reclaimed his sharp edict,
And will not that his poorest subject perish ;
And so persuaded, I myself will do
That which both love and nature bind me to.
I cannot give her as she well deserves ;
For she hath lost a greater benefit.
Poor woman ! take that purse.
Ruf. I'll take't away.
180 THE SECOND PART OF ACT V.
Shore. You shall not, sir; for I will answer it
Before the King, if you enforce it so.
Ruf. It must be so. You shall unto the King.
Shore. You will be he will first repent the thing.
Come, master Ayre, I'll bear ye company,
Which wise men say doth ease calamity. [Exeunt.
Jane, (sola.} If grief to speech free speech could
afford,
Or for each woe I had a fitting word,
I might complain, or if my floods of tears
Could move remorse of minds, or pierce dull ears,
Or wash away my cares, or cleanse my crime,
With words and tears I would bewail the time.
But it is bootless ; why live I to see
All those despised that do pity me ?
Despis'd? alas, destroy 'd and led to death,
That gave me alms here to prolong my breath.
Fair dames, behold ! let my example prove,
There is no love like to a husband's love. \IZocit.
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Palace.
Enter King RICHARD, LOVELL, CATESBY, and RUFFORD,
with SHORE and AYRE pinioned, and led betwixt two
Officers.
Glos. Now, tell us, Rufford, which of these it is,
That, in the heat of his upheaved spleen,
Contemns our crown, disdains our dignity,
And arms himself against authority.
Ruf. Both have offended, my dread sovereign,
Though not alike, yet both faults capital.
These lines declare what, when, and where it was.
[Gives a paper.
SCKNE I. KING EDWARD IV. 181
Glos. (reads.) Which is that Ayre?
Ruf. This young man, my liege !
Glos. I thought it was some hot distempered blood,
That fired his giddy brain with business.
Is thy name Ayre ?
Ayre. It is.
Glos. This paper says so.
Ayre. Perish may he, that made that paper speak !
Glos. Ha ! dost thou wish confusion unto us ?
This paper is the organ of our power,
And shall pronounce thy condemnation.
We make it speak thy treasons to thy face,
And thy malicious tongue speaks treason still.
Reliev'st thou Shore's wife, in contempt of us ?
Ayre. No; but her just desert.
She sav'd my life, which I had forfeited,
Whereby my goods and life she merited.
Glos. And thou shalt pay it, in the selfsame place
Where thou this man (our officer) did^st outface,
And scorned'st us, saying, if we stood by,
Thou would 'st relieve her.
Ayre. I do not deny
For want of food her breath was near expired :
I gave her means to buy it, undesir'd,
And rather choose to die for charity,
Than live condemned of ingratitude.
Glos. Your good devotion brings you to the gallows :
He hath his sentence. RufFord, see him hanged.
[They lead out AYRE.
Now, sir 5 your name ?
Shore. Is it not written there ?
Glos. Here's Matthew Flood.
Ruf. That is his name, my lord.
Glos. Is thy name Flood ?
Shore. So master Rufford says*
182 THE SECOND PART OF ACT v.
Glos. Flood and Air ! the elements conspire,
In air and water, to confound our power.
Did'st thou relieve that hateful wretch. Shore's wife ?
Shore. I did relieve that woful wretch, Shore's wife.
Glos. Thou seem'st a man well staid and temperate :
Durst thou infringe our proclamation ?
Shore. I did not break it.
Ruf. Yes, and added more,
That you would answer it before the King.
Shore. And added more, you would repent the
thing.
Ruf. Who ? I ? his highness knows my innocence,
And ready service with my goods and life :
Answer thy treasons to his majesty.
Glos. What canst thou say, Flood, why thou should'st
not die ?
Shore. Nothing; for I am mortal, and must die.
When my time comes ; but that, I think's, not yet,
Although (God knows) each hour I wish it were,
So full of dolour is my weary life.
Now say I this, that I do know the man
Which doth abet that trait'rous libeller,
Who did compose and spread that sland'rous rhyme,
Which scandals you and doth abuse the time.
Ghs. What libeller ? another Collingborne ?
That wrote " The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our Dog,
Do rule all England under a Hog"
Canst thou repeat it, Flood ?
Shore. I think I can, if you command me so.
Glos. We do command thee.
Shore. In this sort it goes':
" The crook-back'd Boar the way hath found
To root our roses from the ground.
Both flow'r and bud will he confound,
Till King of Beasts the Swine be crown'd ;
SCEME I. KING EDWARD IV. 183
And then the Dog, the Cat, and Rat,
Shall in his trough feed and be fat."
Finis, quoth master Fogg, chief secretary and counsellor
to master Rufford.
Glos. How say 'stthou, Flood? doth Rufford foster this?
Shore. He is a traitor, if he do, my lord.
Ruf. I foster it ? dread lord, I ask no grace,
If I be guilty of this libelling.
Vouchsafe me justice, as you are my prince,
Against this traitor that accuseth me.
Shore. What justice craVst thou ? I will combat thee.
In sign whereof, I do unbutton me,
And in my shirt my challenge will maintain.
Thou calTst me traitor : I will prove thee one.
Open thy bosom like me, if thou darest.
Ruf. I will not be so rude, before his grace.
Shore. Thou wilt not ope the pack of thy disgrace.
Because thy doublet's stuflFt with trait'rous libels.
Glos. Catesby, tear off the buttons from his breast.
What find'st thou there ?
Cat. - Your highness* hand and seal,
For transportation of hides, corn, and lead.
Glos. Traitor! did I sign that commission?
Ruf* O pardon me, most royal King 1
Glos. Pardon ! to counterfeit my hand and seal !
Have I bestow'd such love, such countenance,
Such trust on thee and such authority,
To have my hand and signet counterfeit?
To carry corn, the food of all the land,
And lead, which after might annoy the land,
And hides, whose leather must relieve the land,
To strangers, enemies unto the land,
Didst thou so nearly counterfeit my hand?
Ruf. Not I, my liege ! but Fogg the attorney.
Glos. Away with him, Lovell and Catesby ! go
THE SECOND TART OF ACT V
Command the Sheriffs of London presently,
To see him drawn, and hang'd, and quartered.
Let them not drink before they see him dead.
Haste you again.
Ruf. Well, Flood, thou art my death.
I might have liv'd to have seen thee lose thy head.
Shore. Thou hast but justice for thy cruelty
Against the guiltless souls ^in misery.
I ask no favour, if I merit death.
[Exeunt LOVELL and CATESBY idth RUFFORD.
Glos. Crav'st thou no favour? then I tell thee, Flood,
Thou art a traitor, breaking our edict,
By succouring that trait'rous quean, Shore's wife,
And thou shalt die.
Shore. If I have broke the law.
GIos. If, traitor? didst thou not give her thy purse?
And dost thou not maintain the deed ?
Re-enter LOVELL and CATESBY.
Shore. I do,
If it be death to the relenting heart
Of a kind husband, wronged by a king.
To pity his poor weak seduced wife,
Whom all the world must suffer, by command,
To pine and perish for the want of food
If it be treason for her husband, then,
In the dear bowels of his former love
To bury his own wrong and her misdeed,
And give her meat whom he was wont to feed,
Then Shore must die ; for Flood is not my name,
Though once I took it to conceal my shame.
Pity permits not injur'd Shore pass by,
And see his once-lov'd wife with famine die,
Glos. Lovell and Catesby ! this is Shore, indeed.
Shore ! we confess that thou hast privilege,
And art excepted in our proclamation,
SC'ENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 185
Because thou art her husband, whom it concerns j
And thou may'st lawfully relieve thy wife,
Upon condition thou forgive her fault,
Take her again, and use her as before ;
Hazard new horns ; how say'st thou, wilt thou, Shore ?
Shore. If any but your Grace should so upbraid,
Such rude reproach should roughly be repaid.
Suppose for treason that she lay condemn "d,
Might I not feed her till her hour of death.
And yet myself no traitor for it ?
Glos. Thou mightest.
Shore. And why not now, (O pardon me, dread lord I)
When she hath had both punishment and shame
Sufficient, since a king did cause her blame,
May I not give her food to save her life,
Yet never take and use her as my wife ?
Glos. Except thou take her home again to thee,
Thou art a stranger, and it shall not be.
Fur if thou do, expect what doth belong.
Shore. I never can forget so great a wrong.
GloSn Then never feed her whom thou ean'st not love.
Shore. My charity doth that compassion move.
Glos. Move us no more- Lovell, let Ayre be hanged,
Just in the place where he reKev'd Shore's wife.
Shore hath his pardon for this first offence :
The name of husband pleads his innocence.
Away with them ! Catesby, come you with us. [Exeunt*
SCENE II. A place of Execution.
JOCKY is led over the stage to be whipt. Then AYRE is
brought forth to execution by the Sheriff and Officers,
JAKE SHORE weeping, and SHORE standing by.
Ayre. Good mistress Shore ! grieve me not with your
tears ;
But let me go in quiet to mine end.
186 THE SECOND PART OF ACT v.
Jane. Alas ! poor soul !
Was never innocent thus put to death I
Ayre. The more's my joy that I am innocent.
My death is the less grievous, I am so.
Jane. Ah, master Ayre ! the time hath been ere
now,
When I have kneel'd to Edward on my knees,
And begg'd for him that now doth make me bog.
I have giv n n him when he hath begg'd of me,
Though he forbids to give me when I beg.
I have ere now relieved him and his,
Though he and his deny relief to me.
Had I been envious then, as Richard now,
I had not starved, nor Edward's sons been murdered,
Nor Richard liv'd to put you now to death.
Ayre, The more, Jane, is thy virtue and his sin.
Sheriff. Come, sir, despatch !
Ayre. Despatch, say you ? despatch you may it call :
He cannot stay, when death despatcheth all.
Jane. Lord, is my sin so horrible and grievous,
That I should now become a murderer ?
I've sav'd the life of many a man condemn'd,
But never was the death of man before.
That any man thus for my sake should die,
Afflicts me more than all my misery.
Ayre. Jane, be content !
I am as much indebted unto thee,
As unto nature : I ow'd thee a life
When it was forfeit unto death by law.
Thou begg'd'st it of the king and gav'st it me.
This house of flesh, wherein this soul doth dwell,
Is thine, and thou art landlady of it,
And this poor Life a tenant but at pleasure.
It never came to pay the rent till now,
But hath run in arrearage all this while,
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 1ST
And now for very shame comes to discharge it,
When Death distrains for what is but thy due.
I had not ought thee so much as I do,
But by thy only mercy to preserve it,
Until I lose it for my charity.
Thou giv'st me more than ever I can pay.
Then do thy pleasure, executioner !
And now, farewell, kind, virtuous, mistress Shore !
In heav'n we'll meet again : on earth no more.
[He is executed.
Jane* Farewell, farewell ! thou for thy alms dost die.
And I must end here, starvM in misery !
In life my friend, in death 1*11 not forsake thee.
Thou go'st to heaven ; I hope to overtake thee.
Shore. O world, what art thou? man, ev'n from his
birth,
Finds nothing else but misery on earth,
Thou never (world !) scorn 'd'st me so much before ;
But I (vain world !) do hate thee ten times more.
I'm glad I feel approaching death so nigh.
World ! thou hat'st me : I thee, vain world, defy !
I pray ye yet, good master officers !
Do but this kindness to poor wretched souls,
As let us have the burial of our friend :
It is but so much labour sav'd to you.
Sheriff. There, take his body ! bury it where you
will 5
So it be quickly done out of the way.
[Exeunt Sheriff and Officers.
Jane. What's he that begs the burial of iny friend ?
And hath so oftentimes relieved me ?
Ah, gentle sir ! to comfort my sad woe,
Let me that good kind man of mercy know.
Shore. Ah, Jane \ now there is none but thou and I,
Look on me well. Know'st thou thy Matthew Shore?
188 THE SECOND PART OF ACT V.
Jane. My husband ! then break, heart, and live no more !
[Swoons^ and he supports her.
Shore. Ah, my dear Jane ! comfort thy heavy soul !
Go not away so soon ; a little stay,
A little, little while, that thou and I,
Like man and wife, may here together die.
Jane, How can I look upon my husband's face,
That sham'd myself, and wrought his deep disgrace ?
Shore. Jane, be content 1 Our woes are now alike.
With one self rod thou see'st God doth us strike.
If for thy sin. Til pray to Heav'n for thee,
And if for mine, do thou as much for me.
Jane. Ah, Shore ! is't possible thou canst forgive me ?
Shore. Yes, Jane, I do.
Jane. I cannot hope thou wilt.
My fault's so great, that I cannot expect it.
Shore. I'faith, I do, as freely from my soul,
As at God's hands I hope to be forgiven.
Jane. Then God reward thee! for we now must
part:
I feel cold death doth seize upon my heart.
Shore. And he is come to me. Lo ! here he lies ;
I feel him ready to close up my eyes.
Lend me thy hand to bury this our friend,
And then we both will hasten to our end.
[They put the body of AYEE into a Coffin^ and then he
sits down on one side of it and she on the other.
Jane, sit thou there ! Here I my place will have !
Give me thy hand ! thus we embrace our grave !
Ah, Jane ! he that the depth of woe will see,
Let him but now behold our misery !
But be content ! this is the best of all,
Lower than now we are, we cannot fall !
Jane. Ah, I am faint ! how happy, Ayre, art thou !
Not feeling that which doth afflict us now !
SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 189
Shore. Oh, happy grave ! to us this comfort giving !
Here lies two living- dead J here one dead-living !
Here for his sake, lo ! this we do for thee !
Thou look'st for one, and art possess'd of three.
Jane. Oh, dying marriage ! oh, sweet married death !
Thou grave, which only should'st part faithful friends,
Bring'st us together, and dost join our hands.
Oh, living death ! ev'n in this dying life !
Yet, ere I go, once, Matthew ! kiss thy wife !
[He kisses her, and she dies.
Shore. Ah, my sweet Jane! farewell, farewell, poor
soul!
Now, tyrant Richard ! do the worst thou can'st.
She doth defy thee. Oh, unconstant world !
Here lies a true anatomy of thee !
A king had all my joy, that her enjoy'd,
And by a king again she was destroy'd.
All ages of my kingly woes shall tell.
Once more, inconstant world I farewell, farewell ! [Die*.
Enter Sir ROBERT BRACKEXBURY with two or three
Servants.
Bra. Sirs ! if the King, or else the Duke of Buck-
ingham,
Do send for me, I will attend them straight.
But what are these, here openly lie dead ?
Oh, God ! the one is mistress Shore 5 and this is
Flood,
That was my man. The third is master Ayre,
Who suffered death for his relieving her.
They shall not thus lie in the open way.
Lend me your hands and heavy hearts withal !
At my own charge, I'll give them burial.
[Exeunt with the bodies.
190 THE SECOND PART OF ACT V.
SCENE III. The Palace.
Enter King RICHARD, crowned, BUCKINGHAM, Lady Ann
of WABTTICK, LOVELL, CATJESBY, FOGG, and Atten-
dants,
Rich. Most noble Lords ! since it hath pleased you,
Beyond our expectations, on your bounties,
T'empale my temples with the diadem,
How far my quiet thoughts have ever been
From this so great majestic sovereignty,
Heav'n best can witness. Now I am your king,
Long may I be so to deserve your love !
But I will be a servant to you all.
Pray God my broken sleeps may give you rest !
But only that my blood doth challenge it,
Being your lawful prince by true succession,
I could have wish'd, with all my heart I could,
This majesty had sitten on the brow
Of any other !
So much do I affect a private life,
To spend my days in contemplation !
But since that Heav'n and you will have it so,
I take the crown as meekly at your hands,
As free and pure from an ambitious thought,
As any new-born-babe I (aside.) Thus must thou, Richard,
Seem as a saint to men in outward show,
Being a very devil in thy heart.
Thus must thou cover all thy villanies,
And keep them close from overlookers" eyes.
Buck. My sovereign ! by the general consent
Of all the lords and commons of the land,
I tender to your royal majesty
This princely lady, the Lady Anne of Warwick,
Judged the only worthiest of your love,
To be your highness' bride, fair England's Queen.
SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 191
Rich. My royal princely cousin, Buckingham I
I see you strive to bless me more and more.
Your bounty is so large and ample to me,
You overflow my spirits with your great love.
I willingly accept this virtuous princess,
And crown her angel-beauty with my love !
Lov. Then, as the hand of your high parliament,
I give her here unto your majesty.
Rich. Lord Lovell 1 I as heartily receive her.
Welcome, fair Queen \
Cat. And from the lords and commons of your land,
I give the free and voluntary oath
Of their allegiance to your majesty,
As to their sov'reign and liege lord aud lady,
Richard the third and beauteous Anne, his queen,
The true and lawful king and queen of England.
Rich. I do accept it, Catesby, and return
Exchange of mutual and party love.
Now, Fogg too, that in your trait'rous libels,
Besides the counterfeiting of our hand and seal
For Rufford, though so great a fault deserv'd
To suffer death, as he already hath,
Going about to slubber our renown,
And wound us with reproach and infamy,
Yet, Fogg, that thou thyself may'st plainly see
How far I am from seeking sharp revenge,
Fogg, I forgive thee. And withal we do
Repeal our heavy sentence 'gainst Shore's wife,
Restoring all her goods j for we intend
With all the world now to be perfect friend.
Cat. Why, my good lord, you know she's dead already.
Rich, (aside.) True, Catesby ! else I ne'er had spoke
such words.
(Aloud.) Alas ! I see, our kindness comes too late.
For Catesby tells rae she is dead already !
192 THE SECOND PART OF ACT v.
Cat. Ay, my good Iord 5 so is her husband too.
Rich. Would they had hVd, to see our friendly change !
But, Catesby, say, where died Shore and his wife ?
Cat. Where Ayre was hanged for giving her relief,
There both of them, round circling his cold grave,
And arm in arm, departed from this life.
The people, from the love they bear to her
And her kind husband, pitying his wrongs,
For ever after mean to call the ditch
Shore's Ditch, as in the memory of them.
Their bodies, in the Friars minorites,
Are in one grave interred all together.
But mistress Blague, for her ingratitude
To mistress Shore, lies dead unburied,
And no one will afford her burial.
Rich. But mistress Blague, she shall have burial too.
What now ? we must be friends ; indeed we must.
And now, my lords, I give you all to know,
In memory of our eternal love,
I do ordain an Order of the Bath,
Twelve knights in number of that royal sort,
Which Order, with all princely ceremonies,
Shall be observed in all royal pomp,
As Edward's, our forefather, of the Garter,
"\Vhich feast our self and our beloved queen
Will presently solemnize in our person.
Buck. Now am I bold to put your grace in mind
Of my long suit, and partly your own promise,
The Earl of Hereford's lands.
Rich. Cousin ! we'll better think of that hereafter.
Back. My pains, my lord, have not deserved delay.
Rich. Will you appoint our time ? then you shall stay.
For this hot hastiness, sir, you shall stay.
Move us no more, you were best.
Buck, (aside.) Ay, Richard ! is it come to this ?
SCENE ITI. KING EDWARD TV. 193
In my first suit of all, dost thou deny me,
Break thine own word, and turn me off so slightly ?
Richard, thou had'st as good have damn*d thy soul,
As basely thus to deal with Buckingham.
Richard, I'll sit upon thy crumped shoulder,
I 'faith, I will, if heav'ii will give me leave;
And, Harry Richmond ! this hand alone
Shall fetch thee home, and seat thee in his throne.
[Exit.
Rich. What ! is he gone in heat? why, farewell he !
He is displeas'd : let him be pleas'd again !
We have no time to think on angry men.
Come, my sweet queen 1 let us go solemnize
Our Knighthood^s Order, in most royal wise.
\jExeunt omnes.
FINIS.
3T T E S
TO
THE FIRST PART.
Page 6, Hue 18. A fit of mirth.] As opposed to a continuance, The
phrase occurs in Putteuham's ee Art of Euglish Poesie," 1589, where the
author speaks of <e blind harpers, or such like tavern-minstrels., that give
a fit of mirth for a groat." The word Jit refers to the portions or pauses in
a ballad or romance.
Page 7j line 26. Falconbridge.] fe The person here meant was Thomas
Nevil, bastard son to Lord Falconbridge; e a man (says Hall) of no less
courage then audacity, that a more meter could not be chosen to set all the
worlde in a broyle, and to put the estate of the realme on an yl hazard/
He once brought his ships up the Thames, and; with a considerable body
of the men of Kent and Essex, made a spirited assault on the City, with a
view to plunder and pillage, vhich was not repelled but after a sharp con-
flict and the loss of many lives; and, had it happened at a more critical
period, might have been attended with fatal consequences to Edward.
After roving on the sea some little time longer, he ventured to land at
Southampton, where he was taken and beheaded." RITSON. It appears
from both the Camden Society's publications, hereafter quoted, that he was
taken at Sandwich.
Page 10, line 7-] LeadenhaU was a public granary. See Thoms's S tow's
Survey of London, p. 59.
Page 10, line 29, that euerpund spice in a mortar.] To pun is to pound.
tf He would pun thee into shivers witb his fist, as a sailor breaks a bis-
cuit." Troilus and Cressida, actii. scene 1.
Page 11, line 12, Birchin lane shall suit us.] i. e. shall furnish us with
suits of clothes. Birchin-lane was the Monmouth Street of the city. Sec
Stow's Survey of London, Thoms's ed. p. 75. It was not inhabited by the
mercers and woollen-drapers, as stated by Mr. Rimbault in bis Notes to the
Percy Society's Follie's Anatoime, but by ee the fripperers or upholders;
196 XOTES.
that sold old apparel and household stuff." The mercers, as appears both
from Stow and this play, lived in Cheapside.
Page 15, line 9, Clapperdudgin.] A cant term for a beggar, ingeniously
derived by Mr. Collier from knocking the clapdish (which beggars carried)
with a knife or dudgeou. See Dodsley's Old Plays, iii. 37.
Page 18, line 11. Flat-caps.] See Collier's Shakespeare, vol. ii. p. 361,
Loves Labour's Lost, variorum ed., act v. scene 2.
Page 19, line 15, And cutting of throats be called havock.] See Corio-
lanus, var. ed., act iii. scene i. Crying hawck by the conqueror was the
converse of crying quarter by the conquered.
Page 19, line 18, sallet.] A helmet. See the commentators on 2
Henry VI., act iv. scene 10.
Page 19, line 31, a true finger.] i. e. the finger of a true, or honest man.
Page 21, line 18, The Mouth of Bishopsgate.] Some inn at the gate,
where liquors were sold.
Page 21, line 29, mazer.] Mazard, the face.
Page 22, line 9, as tall a man.] i. e. as brave a man.
Page 26, line 27. What then?] We should now say, What next?
Page 33, line 1.] It appears from Stow that Sir John Crosby was she-
riff, not mayor, in this year, and that Sir Ralph Joceline was mayor, and
knighted, in 1464. Crosby never was mayor. The following is Stow's
annal of the year 1470 :
"1470. The 10th. [Edw. IV.] Sir John Crosbie, John Ward, [Sheriffs] ;
mayor, Sir John Stockton, mercer.
" Thomas the Bastard Fauconbridge, with a riotous company, set upon
this city at Aldgate, Bishopsgate, the Bridge, &c., and twelve aldermen,
with the recorder, were knighted in the field by Edward IV., to wit, John
Stockton, mayor, Rapb Verney, late mayor, John Youg, late mayor, Wil-
liam Tayler, late mayor, Richard Lee, late mayor, Matthew Phillips, late
mayor, George Ireland, William Stoker, William Hampton, since mayor,
Thomas Stolbroke, John Crosbie, and Bartlemew James, since mayor, with
Thomas Urswike, recorder." Stow's Survey of London by Thorns,^. 193.
See also Mr. Bruce's Notes to the Camden Society's Historie of the Ar~
rival of Edward IF., and the same Society's Warkworth's Chronicle, p. 21.
Page 35, line 30. Whether accuseth other wrongfully.] i. e. which of
the two accuseth the other wrongfully.
Page 38, line 22. Miller, thy duty is a thousand marks.] i. e. that which
is due to thee.
Page 38, line penult., paned hose.] Ribbed breeches. See Gilford's
Ma&singer, vol. iv. p. 481.
Page 39, line 12. Farewell, pink and pinuace, fiyboat and carvel, turn-
NOTES. 197
bull and spittal.] The four names of craft are used for the ladies of Spi-
cing's acquaintance. For turnbull, see Collier's Shakespeare, vol. iv.
p. 407- A spittal is an hospital., or pest-house.
Page 40, liue 11, dicker.] A dicker of leather is ten hides.
Page 40, line 27, imbost.] " When a deer is hard run, and foams at the
mouth, he is said to be imbost" TFarton on Taming of the Shrew, act i.
scene i.
Page 40, line 29. That makes ye prate to me so fondly.] Hobs does
not understand " deer imbost," and takes it for foolish love-talk.
Page 41, line 2, megholly.] I conjecture this to be a contraction or cor-
ruption for the Virgin Mary.
Page 42, 1. 8, by the mouse-foot.] " I know a man that will never swear
but by cock and pye 9 or mouse-foot. I hope you will not say these be
oaths." The Plaine Man's Pathway to Heaven. By Arthur Dent. 1601.
Page 42, line 16, these courtnols.] This word occurs in the old ballad
of the King and the Miller of Mansfield, and is a contemptuous word for
courtier court-noddle. So grout-noil means grosse-teste. See SHER-
WOOD.
Page 43, line 1, His majesty?] Although Mr. Douce has shown that
the word majesty was occasionally applied to kings, long before the time of
James I., a few years previous to which this play was written, yet Bp. War-
burton is probably right in saying that this king was the first in England
that assumed the words sacred majesty as a settled style, to the exclusion of
highness and grace, which were previously employed, at the option of the
speaker. Thus, indiscriminately, Shakespeare uses all these words, making
his historical characters speak the language of his, and not of their own,
time ; and it is therefore perfectly natural that the Tanner of Hey wood's
days should not know what " his majesty " means, and, like Falstaff,
should quibble at the word grace.
Page 43, line 19, Dost thou not know me I Then thou knowest nobody.]
Heywood wrote a play with this title, A.D. 1605.
Page 44, line 1, God's blue budkiu.] I thiuk this is the oathkin of 0<&-
bodikinSy or by God's body. The epithet blue is analogous to the French
ventre bleu, or morbleu.
Page 44, line antepenult, scorce.] Exchange.
Page 45, line 2, my mare knows ha and ree.] Ar and re are the words
one hears from the mule-drivers, all day long, in, Spain, where the verb to
drive is arrear.
Page 45, line penult. Nay, that's counsel.] i. e. that's a secret.
Page 46, line 9, York, York, for my money.] See this old song in Rh-
son's Northern Garlands.
198 NOTES.
Page 47, line 25, kiss the post.] This was a by-word for being shut out.
See the Society's Patient Grisell, p. 75, Every Man in his Humour^
act iii. scene 3. A Woman KilVd with Kindness, Dodsley's Old Plays,
vii. 256. I collect so many references, because the by-word has not beeu
before noticed by either Mr. Giffbrd or Mr. Collier.
Page 52; line 17, condition she had all.] It was not uncommon, in fa-
miliar language, to omit the word upon. See Gilford's Massinger, vol. iv,
p. 488.
Page 53, line 13, gramercies.] Grande merci, French, many thanks.
Page 65, line 27, If any gallant strive to have the wall.] In Hey-
wood's days, and long afterwards, a contest for the wall-side, in walking
the streets, was an uncivil characteristic of the manners of the metropolis.
Page 66, line 29, He were too fond, c.] i.e. foolish.
Page 69, line 27, As set so rich a beauty as this is.] i.e. As to set, &c.
Page 70, line ult. Our kind benevolence.] " This tax (called benevo-
lence) was deuised by Edward the Fourth, for which he sustained much
enuie." -Bacon's Historic of the Raigne of King Henry the Seventh.
Page 72, line 23, Here's old polling, subsidy, fifteen, soldiers and to the
poorl] Old is equivalent to what we should now call everlasting. Polling
was a poll-tax ; a subsidy was the fifth part of a man's land and goods,
according to a low valuation ; and for fifteens, see Collier's Shakespeare*
vol. v. p. 197.
Page 72, line 27, By my halidome.] " This Mr. Ritson explains, by my
holy doom, or seutence at the resurrection, from the Saxon haligdom; but
the word does not appear to have had such a meaning. It rather signifies
holiness, or honesty. It likewise denoted a sacrament, a sanctuary, relicks
of saints, or any thing holy* It seems in later times to have been corrupted
into holidame, as if it expressed the holy virgin. Thus we have So help ma
God and Mlidamel See Bullein's Book of the use of sicke men, 1579,
fo. 2 b." DODGE.
My friend Mr. Crabb Robinson also rejects doom, or judgment, and con-
siders dom as a mere suffix, corresponding with the German thum, in which
language heiligthum is the ordinary word for sanctuary, or holy place or
thing. Thum, in German, answers to our dom in Christendom, kingdom,
freedom, wisdom. By my halidom, therefore, means by my goodness, by
my holiness! The English dictionaries attribute the suffix dom to the Saxon
word for dominion, or doom; but this is doubtful.
Page 73, line penult. Dybell in Caperdochy.] This is some cant term
for a prison, which we have not met with elsewhere.
Page 73, line ult. Outstep the king be miserable.] Unless the king be
compassionate.
NOTES. 199
Page 78, line 5, His tongue entreats, controls the greatest peer.] i. e. his
tongue, which controls the greatest peer, entreats.
Page 82, line 24, That honest, merry hangman, how doth he ?] Hang-
man was a term of endeanneut, and this explains the following passage
in Much Ado about Nothing, act. iii. scene 2, -without having recourse to
Dr. Fanner's exquisite reason :
" He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little hangman
dare not shoot."
So in Love's Labour's Lost, act v. scene 2.
" Cnpid a boy,
Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too."
Page 92, line 41, tan-fat.] Tun- vat, or tan-pit.
T E S
TO
THE SECOND PART.
Page 96, line 9, Nuse.] Neuss ?
Page 97, line 18, Black jack.] The thing and the word are still used at
the Blue Coat School of Christ's Hospital. So are a cowl-staff, a placket,
and a settle.
Page 103, line 30.] This is the converse of what each was to do; but
it is of no great importance.
Page 105, line 20.] The original is battaile, evidently used as a trissyl-
lable. So in Richard HI., act v. scene 3 :
"Why, our battalia trebles that account."
Mr. Gifford says, that by battalia our old writers meant the main body of
the army. See his Massiiiger, iii. 140.
Page 106, line antepenult, battles.] For battalions.
Page 110, line 28, crowns of the sun.] Mr. Douce says those were gold,
originally coined by Louis XL, and that their name was derived from the
mint-mark of a sun. They were current in this kingdom by weight, as
certain English coins were in France. See also Giflbrd's Massinger,
vol. i. p. 131.
Page 111, line 24, Somewhat, it gives me, you will bring from thence.]
i. e. my mind gives me, or misgives me.
Page 113, line penult, a couple of capons too every year beside.] This
is a common reservation in old leases, besides the rent.
Page 115, line 4, Hath secretly with Edward thus compact.] I think
this orthography proves that the word pact, in the following passage, is
equally a participle, and not a substantive, as Mi-. Collier, in his excellent
edition of Shakespeare,, makes it :
This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I believe was pact in all this wroi.
Much Ado about Nothing) act v. seem} 1.
I consider pact to be the usual orthography of the times, as it is of the old
NOTES. 201
copies of Shakespeare, for the verb packed, and not, as Mr. Collier under-
stands it, as the noun pact a bargain, or contract. In both these pas-
sages it is used in the bad sense, in which a jury used sometimes to be said
to be packed, before Sir Robert Peel's Jury Act. A pact is an agreement
in a good sense, and I have never seen an instance of the phrase to be pact,
for to be an agreement. Every body will recollect
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact,
or made up, here not in a bad sense.
116, line 2, play'd John.] Contemporary plays are full of playing Jack
and playing the flouting Jack; but the Rev. Mr. Dyce kindly informs me
that the allusion here is to the song so named : " Shee euerie day sings
John for tho King"--Sharpham's Fleire, sig. F. ed. 1610.
Page 121, line 9, Here's vying of villany, who shall have all.] To vie is
to wager.
Page 122, line 7, hypocrite] The black letter edition of 1613, and the
Roman of 1626, read heretic, which seems better. The other various
readings are so numerous and so trivial, that I have uot noted them.
Page 123, line 16, creeple] Cripple. See Dyce's Greene's Works, ii.
315. In Shakespeare, the first folio spells, "And chide the creeple tardy-
gaited night."
Page 105, line 26, Enginer] The old word for engineer. See Field's
Woman's a Weathercock, act iv. scene L, Ben Jonson's Catiline, act iii.
scene 4.
Page 133, line 11, Exit Marquis.] Was Hey wood aware that he who
has shown this hatred of Jane Shore, himself took her into keeping, after
the deaths of King Edward and Lord Hastings, whose mistress she also was ?
Page 148, line 7, what is Richard, then ?] See Malone's note on King
Richard ///., act iii. scene 6*
Page 165, line 7-] A similar trait of ingratitude is exhibited towards
Jane Shore by one of her clients in the True Tragedy of Richard HI:
" LodotoicL 1 cannot deny but my lands she restored me; but shall I,
by relieving of her, hurt myself ? No; for straight [strict] proclamation is
made that none shall succour her. Therefore, for fear I should be seen
talk with her, I will shun her company and get to my chamber, and there
set down in heroical verse the shameful end of a king's concubine."
This is one of the best things in this old play.
Page 168, line 3.] This text is from the Vulgate version of the Wis-
dom of Solomon, iii, 4.
202 NOTES.
Page 172, Hue 19, tin.] Leave.
Page 173, line 14, rebatoes.] A collar for a lady's neck. Sec Patient
Grisil, p. 48.
Page 178, line 20, maister] Usually called the mistress. See Troilus
and Gressida, var. ed., act iii. scene 2. Now the jack.
Page 192, line 10, Shore's Ditch] The old ballad of Jane Shore has
the same idea ; but the place was so called hundreds of years before. See
Stow's Survey of London 9 Thoms's ed.,p. 158, and Fuller's Worthies, Mid-
dlesex. A ditch, or sewer, is vulgarly called a shore. Hey wood has taken
his facts from the old ballad, and not from history. Jane Shore was living
thirty years after the death of Edward IV., when Sir Thomas More wrote
his History of Richard 111. It appears, from a letter of King Richard's
in the Harleian MSS. (Percy's Reliques, ii. 405), that, while she was impri-
soned, the solicitor-general wished to marry her, and that the king would
have released her for that purpose, if the learned gentleman could not bo
dissuaded from the match. Shore is in that letter called William; but
Hey wood has strictly followed the names and tragedy of the old ballad.
THE END.
LONDON :
P. SHOBERL, JtJN., 51, RUPERT STRBET, HA7MAHKBT,
PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT.
THE
FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE;
A COMEDY,
BY
THOMAS HEYWOOD :
AND
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA;
A TRAGI-COMEDY,
BY
THOMAS HEYWOOD AND WILLIAM ROWLEY.
EDITED BY
BARRON FIELD, ESQ.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOB THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
1846.
FREDERICK SHOBERL, JDNIOH,
JRJNTBR TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE AI,nBRT n -
51, RUPERT 8TRBBT, BATMARK&T, LONDON,
THE
FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE ;
A COMEDY,
BY
THOMAS HEYWOOD.
EDITED BY
BAERON FIELD, ESQ.
From dusty shops neglected authours come,
Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the [trunk] ?
Much Hey wood, Shirley, Ogilby, there lay.
DRYDEN.
LONDON:
FEINTED FOE THE SHAKESPEAEE SOCIETY.
FREDERICK SHOBBRL, JUNIOR,
f JUNTBR TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PKINCK ALBERT,
51, RDPHRT STREET, HAYMARKBT, LONDON.
COUNCIL
OF
THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
TJTE MOST NOBLE THE MAHQUESS OF CONYNGIIAM.
THE EARL OF POWIS.
THE EARL OF GLENGALL.
THE EARL HOWE.
THE RT. HON. LORD FRANCIS EGERTON.
THE RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE.
THE RT. TTON. LORD LEIGH.
THOMAS AMYOT, ESQ., F.R.S., TREAS. S.A.
WILLIAM AYRTON, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
SIR ANDREW BARNARD, LIEUT. GEN., K.C.B.
BKRTAH BOTFIELD, ESQ., M.P.
J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ., F.S.A., DIRECTOR.
BOLTON CORNEY, ESQ.
PETER CUNNINGHAM, ESQ., TREASURER.
THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
SIR HENRY ELLIS, K.H., F.R.S., F.S.A.
JOHN FORSTER, ESQ.
HENRY HALLAM, ESQ., F.R.S., V.P.S.A.
J. O. HALLHVELL, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
THE REV. WILLIAM HARNESS.
WILLIAM C. MACREADY, ESQ.
SAMUEL NAYLOR, ESQ.
T. J. PETT1GREW, ESQ., F.R.S. F.S.A.
J. R. PLANCIJE, ESQ., F.S.A.
WILLIAM J. THOMS, F^Q., F.S.A.
F. GUEST TOMLINS, ESQ., SECRETARY.
EDWARD V. UTTRRSON, ESQ., F.S.A.
SIR FREDERICK BUILBY WATSON, K.C.1I, F.R.S.
The Council of the Shakespeare Society desire it to bo understood
that they are not answerable for any opinions or observations that
may appear in the Society's publications ; the Editors of the several
works being alone responsible for the same.
INTRODUCTION.
, The following comedy was first published in the year
1607. The present reprint is from that copy, collated
with the edition of 1637, the only date given by Lang-
baine; who undervalues the piece, and adds : "I question,
notwithstanding Mr. Kirkman has ascribed it to our
Author, whether it be his, since his name is not pre-
fixt, neither does the style or oeconomy resemble the rest
of his labours." The writer of an article in the Retro-
spective Review 1 and the editor of Baldwyn's Old English
Drama, echo this strain, for it is easier to join in a cry
than to read for oneself ; but the comedy appears to
me and others, who are better judges than I, very
entertaining, and very much in Heywood's style. The
Cripple, (he has no name) whom Charles Lamb calls the
hero of it, is a very original character, not unworthy of
Ben Jonson. He is called a " drawer," meaning a
pattern-drawer, and keeps a little shop or seat in the
Exchange. He appears also to be a scrivener, a writer
1 Vol. xi., p. 127.
VI INTRODUCTION.
of letters and memorials, such as used to sit at desks iu
public places in London, and still do on the Continent.
It appears from page 48, that such persons used to
keep forms of letters ready written, and that they could
be sent without signature, in those days when few could
write, through messengers, who named their sender.
The Exchange, I think, must mean the Royal Ex-
change, since the New Exchange in the Strand was not
built till after the first publication of the play. The
Royal Exchange was then full of shops, like a bazaar.
The Fair Maid, Phillis Flower, though her parents are
wealthy, is an apprentice to a sempstress in this Ex-
change; and, one night, in company with a female
servant, taking home some work to a lady at Mile-End,
they are assaulted by Scarlet and Bobbington, two men
of broken fortune, from whom they are at first rescued
by the Cripple with his crutch ; and, the ruffians having
returned, secondly by the assistance of Frank Goulding,
the lover-hero of the comedy. Grateful for these ser-
vices, the Fair Maid falls in love, not with Frank, but
with the Cripple. Frank is the younger brother of Fer-
dinand and Anthony Goulding, who afterwards severally
confide to him their passion for the same Fair Maid.
Frank scoffs at love, but is subsequently himself caught in
the very same snare. The two elder brothers, overhear-
ing each other confess their love for the same object, set
about mutual circumvention, and entrust their respective
stratagems to Frank, who, by the help of his friend the
Cripple, cheats them both, and, in the disguise of his
** crooked habit," eventually gains the hand of the Fair
INTRODUCTION, vii
Maid. Her father had favoured the suit of Ferdinand,
and her mother that of Anthony ; but they are all out-
witted by Frank, and rejected by Phillis. " The
Cripple" (says Mr. Lamb) " is an excellent fellow, and
the hero of the comedy. He is described (albeit a
tradesman, yet wealthy withal) with heroic qualities of
mind and body; the latter of which he evinces by
rescuing the Fair Maid from robbers by the main force
of his crutch, and the former by his foregoing the ad-
vantage which this action gained him in her good
opinion, and bestowing his wit and finesse in procuring
for her a husband, in the person of his friend, more
worthy of her beauty than he could conceive his own
maimed and halting limbs to be. It would require "
(he adds) " some boldness in a dramatist now-a-days to
exhibit such a character, and some luck in finding a
sufficient actor, who would be willing to personate the
infirmities, together with the virtues, of the noble
Cripple," 1 Mr. Lamb himself, in his admirable " Essay
ou the tragedies of Shakespeare, considered with re-
ference to their fitness for Stage-representation," has
given the sufficing reason why these personal de-
formities, however consistent with heroism in the read-
ing of works of fiction, cannot be embodied by an actor
without ridicule* And he instances Othello. "No-
thing " (he says) " can be more soothing, more flatter-
ing to the noble parts of our natures, than to read of a
young Venetian lady of highest extraction, through the
1 Specimens of Eng. Dram. Poets, vol. ii., p. 188.
viil INTRODUCTION.
force of love and from a sense of merit in him she
loved, laying aside every consideration of kindred, and
country, and colour, and wedding with a cod-Hack
Moor (for such he is represented in the imperfect state
of knowledge respecting foreign countries in those days,
compared with our own, or in compliance with popular
notions, though the Moors are now well enough known
to be, by many shades, less unworthy of a white
woman's fancy) : it is the perfect triumph of virtue
over accidents, of the imagination over the senses. She
sees Othello's visage in his mind. But, upon the stage,
when the imagination is no longer the ruling faculty,
but we are left to our poor, unassisted senses, I appeal
to every one that has seen Othello played, whether he
did not, on the contrary, sink Othello's mind in his
colour; whether he did not find something extremely
revolting in the courtship and wedded caresses of
Othello and Desdemona ; and whether the actual sight
of the thing did not overweigh all that beautiful com-
promise which we make in reading: and the reason
why it should do is obvious, because there is just so
much reality presented to our senses as to give a per-
ception of disagreement, with not enough of belief in
the internal motives (all that which is unseen) to over-
power and reconcile the first and obvious prejudices.
What we see upon a stage is body and bodily action ;
what we are conscious of, in reading, is almost exclu-
sively the mind and its movements." *
1 Works of Charles Lamb, 1818, vol. ii., p, 27.
INTRODUCTION. ix
In one of " Two Old Men's Tales," 1834, entitled
The Deformed, there is a story of a Hunchback Lover,
who is beloved by a beautiful girl ; but the authoress
was afraid of the ridicule of carrying the pair to the
altar, and has cut the knot by killing everybody. In
an anonymous Poem, published by Whittaker in 1836,
entitled The Deformed Artist, the marriage is effected;
but the ceremony is judiciously slurred over, and the
beauty of the child, the fruits of the marriage, is dwelt
upon with good effect. " In all these cases," (as Sir
Joshua Reynolds says) " the poet or historian can ex-
patiate and impress the mind with great veneration for
the character of the hero or saint he represents, though
he lets us know, at the same time, that the one was de-
formed, or the other lame. The painter and actor
have no other means of giving an idea of the dignity of
mind, but by that of external appearance, which
grandeur of thought does generally, though not always,
impress on the countenance, and by that correspon-
dence of figure to sentiment and situation, which all
men wish but cannot command."
Acting upon these principles, my friend Mr. Horace
Smith has, in his late novel of "Arthur Arundel,"
ventured, I think with success, to crook the back of
his successful lover-hero ; but upon the stage this can
never be done. Mr. Sheridan Knowles's " Hunchback"
is a father, and not a lover ; and even the dramatist
before us has not dared to let his deformed Cripple
accept the offered love of the heroine ; and this at the
expense of destroying the interest we take in her, by
X INTRODUCTION.
making her most unaccountably transfer her affections
at last, for the mere purpose of letting the curtain fall
upon her marriage with somebody. But this is a
comedy of intrigue, though containing one well-drawn
character ; and in comedies of intrigue the ladies re-
semble pullets, who transfer their affections to the
cunningest conqueror, and are as readily deceived by
the disguise of dress as Dame Partlet takes a lump of
chalk for an egg.
To conclude the argument of this comedy. There
is an underplot, which is not so good. Bowdler and
Bernard, two spendthrifts, hut friends of the Cripple,
make love to Moll Berry, both of whom she treats with
witty disdain, but is really in love with Bowdler, and
even affiances herself to him, Bernard owes her father
a hundred pounds, for which he causes him to bo
arrested ; when the Cripple persuades her, most unac-
countably, that she is in love with Bernard, and to
marry him : this she does, and then offers herself to her
father, as bail for her husband, who, upon the usual
promise of reform, is forgiven and released.
There is a still more unnecessary incident of Master
Flower's lending Bobbington ten pounds upon a dia-
mond, which afterwards appears to have been stolon ;
and the comedy concludes with the father of our bride
and bridegroom being taken before the judges upon a
charge of felony, leaving us in ignorance of the result.
No apology is necessary for putting forth this piece
in the name of the Shakespeare Society. Almost all
Heywood's dramas deserve to be reprinted. They have
INTRODUCTION. ix
not only great merit in themselves, but they are full of
illustrations of our Poet.
There is a ballad by Dekker called The Cripple of
Cheapside, the story of which is similar to this play.
See Collier's " New Particulars regarding Shakespeare's
Works," page 46.
With the exception of the .title-page, dramatis per-
sona, and prologttS) I have modernized the orthography
of this play ; and the originals are not divided into acts
or scenes.
THE
Fayre Mayde of the
Exchange :
WITH
The pleasaunt Humours of
Cripple of Fanchurck.
Very delectable, and full of mirth.
LONDON:
Printed for Henry Rockit r and are to be soldo
at the shop in the Poultry under the
Dyall. 1607.
ELEAUEN MAY EASILY AOTE THIS
COMEDIE.
BERRY, an old man,
BOBBINGTON,
GARDINER,
OFFICERS,
MALL BERRY,
FLOWER, m humwous old man,
BENNET,
SCARLET,
RALPH, J
CRIPPLE, for one.
BARNARD, 1
FLOWER'S wife, [ .
. r J > for one.
VRSULA,
BOY, J
ANTHONY GOLDING, gmtimm, for one.
and WOOD,
FRANKE GOLDING-, genAmm, for one.
BOWDLER, an humorous gallant, for one.
PHILLIS, tlwfam Maide, for one.
FIDDLE, the Clowe, for one.
PEOLOQUS.
The humble Socke that true Comedians weare,
Our Muse hath don'd, and, to your fav'ring eyes,
In lowest Plaine-song, doth herselfe appeare,
Borrowing no colours from a quaint disguise :
If your faire fauours cause her spirite to rise,
Shee to the highest pitch her wings shall reare,
And prowd quothernicke action shall deuise,
To winne your sweet applause she deem.es so deare.
Meane while, shore up our tender pamping twig,
That yet on humble ground doth lowely lie
Your fauour's sunneshine guilding once this sprig,
It may yeeld Necbw for the gods on hie ;
Though an Inuention lame, imperfect be,
Yet giue the Cripple almes for charitie.
[Exit.
THE
FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
ACT I., SCENE I.
The Suburbs of London. Enter SCARLET and BOB-
BINGTON.
Scar. Even now the welcome twilight doth salute
Tli 1 approaching night, clad in black sable weeds,
Black as my thoughts, that harbour nought but death,
Thefts, murders, rapes, and such like damned acts,
The infant babes to whom my soul is nurse.
Oome, Bobbington, this star-bespangled sky
Bodeth some* good: the weather's fair and dry.
Bob. My scarlet-hearted Scarlet, gallant blood,
Whoso bloody deeds are worthy memory
Of after-ages, let me embrace thee : so,
So, now mothinks I fold a richer gem
Than wealthy India can afford to Spain.
There lies my treasure, and, within thy arms,
Security that never breedeth harms.
Scar. Brave resolution I I am proud to see
So sweet a graft upon a wormwood tree.
Whose juice is gall, but yet the fruit most rare.
Who recks the tree, if that the fruit be fair ?
Therefore, resolve, if we a booty get,
It boots not whence, from whom, when, where, or what.
8 THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Bob. Well, G-od forgive us ! here lefs take our stands ;
"We must have gold, although we have no lands.
Enter PHILLTS and URSULA.
Phil. Stay, Ursula j have you those suits of ruffs,
Those stomachers, and that fine piece of lawn,
Marked with the letters double and S 2
Urs. I have.
Phil. If your forgetfulnoss cause any defect,
YouVe like to pay for't ; therefore look unto it.
Urs. I would our journey had as safe an end,
As I am sure my lady^s ruffs aro here,
And other wares, which she bespoke of you.
Phil. 'Tis good ; but stay, give me thy hand, my girl ;
"Tia somewhat dark ; come, let us help each other.
She passed her word, one of her gentlemen
Should meet us at the bridge, and that's not far :
I muse they aro not come ; I do assure thee,
Were I not much beholding to her ladyship
For many kindnesses, Mile End should stand,
This gloomy night, unvisited for us.
But, come, methinks I may discern the bridge,
And see a man or two : in very deed,
Her word, her love, and all is honorable.
JBob. A prize, young Scarlet ! oh, a gallant prize,
And we the pirates that will seize the same
To our own uses.
Scar. But hold, man, not too fast :
As far as I can gather by their words,
They take us for my lady's gentlemen,
Who, as it seems, should meet thorn ou their way.
Then, if thou say'st the word, we'll soeni those men,
And, by those means, withdraw them from their way,
Where we may rifle them of what they carry,
I mean both goods and their virginity.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Bob. 'Tis well advis'd. But, Scarlet, give me leave
To play the gentleman and welcome them.
Scar. Enjoy thy wish.
Bob. Welcome ! you sacred stars,
That add bright glory to the sable night.
Scar. Excellent, by heaven !
Bob. I am sorry your beauty's so discomfited,
Treading so many tedious, weary steps,
And we not present to associate you.
Scar. Oh, blessed Bobbington !
PHI. Sir, I do thank you for this taken pains,
That, as your worthy lady promised me,
We now enjoy your wished company.
Scar. She's thine own, boy, I warrant theo.
Bob. And I am proud, too proud of this employment.
Come, Master Scarlet, take you that pretty sweet.
You see my lady's care she promised one,
But hath sent two.
Phil. 'Tis honorably done.
Bob. This is your way.
Phil. That way ? alas, sir, no !
Bob. Come,' it is : nay, then, it shall be so.
Phil. What mean you, gentlemen ?
Urs. Oh, he will rob me !
Phil. Look to the box, Ursula.
Phil, and Urs. Help ! help ! murder ! murder !
ISnter the CRIPPLE.
Crip. Now, you supporters of decrepit youth,
That mount this substance 'twixt fair heaven and earth,
Bo strong to bear that huge deformity,
And be my hands as nimble to direct them,
As your desires to waft me hence to London.
Phil, and Urs. Help ! help ! he'll ravish me !
Crip. Methinks I hear the sound of ravishment.
10 THE FAIR MATT) OF THE EXCHANGE.
PMl and Vrs. Help ! help !
Grip. Marry and will, know I but where and how.
What do I see?
Thieves full of lust beset virginity.
Now stir thec, Cripple 5 and of thy four legs
Make use of one to do a virgin good.
Hence, raVning curs ! what, are you at a prey ?
Will nothing satisfy your greedy chaps
But virgin's flesh ? Til teach you prey on carrion.
[Fights, and beats ttem away.
Pack, damned ravishers ! hence, villains !
Phil. Thanks, honest friend, who from the gates of dcatli
Hath set our virgin souls at liberty.
Crip. Give G-od the glory, that gave me the power.
Phil. I do, kind sir ; and think myself much bound
To him above, to thee that treads this ground.
And for this aid, 111 ever honour thee.
My honour you have sav'd redeemed it home
Which were't not done, by this time had been gone.
Crip. Hereafter more of this \ but toll me now
The cause of these events, th' effect, and how.
Phil. Til tell you, sir but let us leave this place,
And onward on our way.
[Re-enter SCARLET and BOBBINOTON.
Bob. It shall be so. See where they walk along ;
Til cross the other way, and meet them foil.
Keep thou this way, and when thou hear'st us chat,
Come thou behind him, snatch away his crutches,
And then thou know'st he needs must Ml to ground.
And what shall follow, leave the rest to me.
[Exit BOB.
Scar. About it then.
Grip. Pfaith, she is an honorable lady,
And I much wonder that her ladyship
Gives entertain to such bad mon as these.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 11
Ee-mter BOBBINGTQN.
Bob. Stand, thou that hast more legs than Nature gave thee !
Crip. Mongrel ! Ill choose.
Scar. Then go to, sir, you shall.
All. Murder! murder!
Enter FRANK G-OULDING.
Frank. Stay there, my horse !
Whence comes this echo of extremity !
All Help ! help !
Frank. What do I hear ! a virgin call for help 5
Hands off, damn'd villains, or, by heav'n I swear,
111 send you all to hell ! [Fights, and drives tlwn away.
Crip. Hold! forbear!
I came in rescue of virginity.
Phil. He did, he did, and freed us once from thrall
"But now, the second time, they wrought his fall.
Frank. Now, you distressed objects, do you tell
Upon what mount of woe your sorrows dwell.
Phil. First, get we hence away, and as we go,
Kind gentleman, our fortunes you shall know.
Crip. Thanks, worthy sir. May but the Cripple be
Of power to gratify this courtesy ;
I then shall think the heavens fervour me.
Phil. No more now ; for Q-od's sake, let us hence !
Crip. If I do live, your love 111 recompence.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Exchange. Before the CRIPPLE'S Shop. Enter
MOLL BERRY.
MoU. Now for my true-lovers handkercher ! these flowers
Are pretty toys, are very pretty toys :
12 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Oh, but mothinks the peascod would do better.
The peascod and the blossom, wonderful !
Now, as I live, I'll surely have it so.
Some maids will choose the gilliflower, some the rose,
Because their sweet scents do delight the nose ;
But very fools they are, in my opinion.
The very worst being drawn by cunning art,
Seems in the eye as pleasant to the heart.
But here's the question whether my love, or no,
Will seem content ? Ay, there the game doth go ;
And yet I'll pawn my head he will applaud
The peascod and the flow'r, my pretty choice.
For what is he, loving a thing in heart,
Loves not the counterfeit, tho' made by art \
I cannot tell how others' 1 fancies stand,
But I rejoice sometime to take in hand
The simile of that I love ; and I protest
That pretty peascod likes my humour best.
But I'll unto the Drawer's 5 he'll counsel mo :
Here is his shop : alas ! what shall I do 1
He's not within : now all my labour's lost.
See, see how forward love is ever crost !
But stay, what gallant's this !
Ent&r BOWDLER.
Bow. A plague on this Drawer ! he's never at home.
Good morrow, sweetheart ! tell me how thou dost ?
MolL Upon what acquaintance ?
Bow. That's all one. Once, I love thee. Give mo thy
hand, and say Amen !
MolL Hands ofl', sir knave ; and wear it for a favour.
Bow. What? dost thou mean thy love, pretty fool?
MolL No fool, the knave, 0, gross !
A gentleman, and of so shallow wit !
Bow. I know thou earnest to tho Drawer.
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 13
Mott. How then?
Sow. Am not I the properer man ?
Moll. Yes, to make an ass on.
Bow. Will you get up and ride ?
Mott. No, Til lackey by his side, and whip the ass.
Sow. Come, come, leave your jesting : I shall put you down.
Moll. With that face ? away, you want wit.
Sow. By this hand, I shall.
Moll. By the ass-head, you shall not.
Sow. Go to, you are a woman,
Moll. Come, come, you are a man.
Sow. I have seen as fair.
Moll. I have heard as wise.
Sow. As fair .as Moll Berry.
Moll As wise as young Bowdlor.
Sow. As Master Bowdler.
Moll. Heyday, come up 1
Sow. G-o thou down then !
MolL No, good ass ; bate an ace of that.
Enter BERNARD.
Ser. What, Master Bowdler, will it ne'er be otherwise ?
Still, still a hunting, every day wenching?
Bow. Faith, sir, the modest behaviour of this gentlewoman
lath insinuated my company.
Moll. Lord I how eloquence flows in this gentleman !
Bow. Faith, I shall put you down in talk ; you were best to
yield.
MolL No, sir \ I will hold out as long as I may,
Tho' in the end you bear the fool away.
Bow. Mean you by me ? you gull me not ?
Mott. No, by this night, not I.
Bow. For if you did, I would intoxicate my head.
Mott. Yea, I dare swear, you'll go a fool to bed.
Bow. Mean you by- me ? you gull me not ?
14 THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Ber. No, I dare swear the gentlewoman moans well.
Moll. And so I do, indeed ; himself can tell.
But this it is : speak maidens what they will,
Men are so captious, they'll e'er conster ill.
Ber. To her, sir, to her 5 I dare swear she loves you
Bow. Well then, fair Moll, you love me as you say.
Moll. I never made you promise ; did I, pray ?
Bow. All in good time 3 you will do ; else you lio ;
Will you not?
Moll. No, forsooth, not I.
Bow. Bernard, she gulls me still.
JBer. 'Tis but your mis-conceit. Try her again.
You know, by course, all women must bo coy.
To her again, then she may haply yiold.
Bow. Not I, in faith.
Moll. Then mine shall be the field.
Wisdom, adieu ! once more, faint hoart, farewell !
Yet, if thou seest the Drawer, I prithee toll him
Moll Berry hath more work for him to do 5
And, for yourself, leafla this when you do woo :
Arm you with courage, and with good tako-hcod
For he that spares to speak must spare to speed.
And so farewell !
Bow. Call her again, Bernard,
Ber. She's too swift for me :
Why, this is the right course of gullery.
What did you mean, having so fair an aim,
So fondly to let slip so fair a game ?
Bowdler, become a man, for maids will stand 5
And then strike home. Art thou not young and lusty,
Tho minion of delight, fair from thy birth,
Adonis' play-pheer, and tho pride of earth \
Bow. I know it ; but a kind of honest blood
Tilts in iny loins, with wanton appetites.
She bad me do a message to the Drawer,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 15
And I will do it. There will come a day,
When Humphrey Bowdler will keep holiday.
Then, Moll, look to yourself \ see you be sped ;
Or, by this light, I'll have your maidenhead.
Ber. Spoke like a gallant, spoke like a gentleman, spoke
like yourself !
Now do I see some sparks of manhopd in you.
Keep in that key, keep in the self-same song,
I'll gage my head, you 1 !! have her love ere long. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The same. Enter FERDINAND and FRANK.
Frank. Wilt thou not tell me, brother Ferdinand ?
Now, by this light, 111 haunt thee like a sprite,
Until I know whonce springs this melancholy.
F&rd. 0, Brother !
Thou art too young to reach the depth of grief,
That is immured within my heart's deep closet.
A thousand sighs keep daily sentinel,
That beat like whirl- winds all my comfort back.
As many sobs guard my distressed heart,
That no relief comes near to aid ray souL
Millions of woes, like bands of arm&l men,
Stop up tho passage of my sweet relief.
And art thou then persuaded that thy words
Oan any comfort to my soul afford !
No, no, good Frank : dear brother, then forbear,
Unless with grief in me you'll take a share.
Fratik. Grief me no griefs, but tell mo what it id
Makes my sweet Ferdinand thus passionate :
I'll conjure grief, if grief be such an evil,
In spite of Fortune, Fates, or any Devil.
Ferd. Wilt thou not leave mo to mysolf alone !
Frank. Brother, you know iny inind.
16 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
If you will leave your dumpish melancholy,
And, like myself, banish that puling humour,
Or satisfy my expectation,
By telling whence your sorrow doth proceed,
I will not only cease to trouble you,
But, like a true skilful physician,
Seek all good means for your recovery.
F&rd. Well, brother, you have much impoi-tuifd me,
And for the confidence I have in you,
That you'll prove secret, I will now unfold
The load of care that presseth down my souL
Know, then, good Frank, love is the cause thereof.
Frank. How, love ! why, what's that love ?
Ferd. A child a little, little boy that's blind.
Frank. And be overcome by him ? plagueM by him ?
Driv'n into dumps by him ? put down by a boy ?
Mastered by Love ? Oh, I am mad for anger !
By a boy ?
Is there no rosemary and bays in England,
To whip the ape ? by a boy !
Ferd. Ay, such a boy as thou canst never soe,
And yet ere long mayst feel his tyranny.
He is not visible, yet aims at the heart.
Wo be to those that feel his wounding dart !
And one of them I am ; wounded so deep,
That in my passions I no mean can keep.
Unhappy time ! wo to that dismal hour,
When Love did wound me with fair Phillis Flower.
0, Phillis, Phillis ! of Flowers the sweetest flower
That ever garnishM any princely bower !
Farewell, farewell, my woes will ne'er remove,
Till I enjoy fair Phillis for my love ! [Exit.
Frank, What's here ? Phillis and love, and love and Pkillh !
I have seen Phillis, and have heard of love :
I will see Phillis, and will hear of love ;
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 17
But neither Pliillis nor the power of love
Shall make me bond-slave to a woman's beck,
Enter ANTHONY.
Who's here ? my second brother mal-content ?
I'll stand aside and note his passions.
Anth. 0, Love ! that I had never known thy power !
Frank. More lovers yet ! what the devil is this love ?
Anth. That these my wandering eyes had kept their stay !
That I myself had still been like myself!
That my poor heart had never felt the wound,
Whose anguish keeps me in a deadly swound !
Oh, how deluding dreams, this night overpast,
Drench'd my sad soul in pleasure's floating sea !
Methought I clasp'd my love within my arms,
And, circling her, sav'd her from threatening harms :
Mothought there came an hundred in an hour,
That sought to rob me of my sweetest flower ;
But, like a champion, I did keep her still
Within this circle, free from ev'ry ill :
But, when I wak'd, and miss'd my Phillis there,
All my sweet joys converted into fear.
Frank. What, brother Anthony ! at prayers so hard I
Tell mo what saint it is thou invocat'st ?
Is it a male, or female \ howsoever,
God bless thoe, brother, thou'rt in a good mind.
But now I remember me, thy saint is blind.
Anth. How, blind?
Frank. Ay, toother, blind : I heard thee talk of Love,
And Love is blind, they say.
Anth. I would it were as blind as ebon night,
That Love had never hit my heart so right !
But what is love in your opinion ?
Frank. A voluntary motion of delight,
Touching the superficies of the soul ;
o
18 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
A substance less divine than is the soul,
Yet, more than any other power in man,
Is that which loves ; yet neither is enforced,
Nor doth enforce the heart of man to love 5
Which motion, as it unbeseems a man,
So, by the soul and reason which adorn
The life of man, it is extinguished
Even at his pleasure that it doth possess.
Antli. Thus may the free man jest at manacles ;
The far-clad citizen laugh at a storm 5
The swarthy Moor, diving to gather pearl,
Challenge the scalding ardour of the Sun j
And aged Nestor, sitting in his tent,
May term wounds sport, and war but merriment.
FraaiJc. Tis true, 'fore God it is : and now metliinks
My heart begins to pity hearts in love.
Say once more, Anthony ; toll me thy griefs ;
Let me have feeling of thy passion ;
Possess me deeply of thy melting state,
And thou shalt see.
Anth* That thou wilt pity mo.
FrcmJc. No, by my troth ! if eVry tale of love,
Or love itself, or fool-bewitching beauty,
Make me cross-arm myself, study Qh-mes^
Defy my hat-band, tread beneath my foot
Shoe-strings and garters, practise in my glass
Distressed looks, and dry my liver up,
With sighs enough to wind an argosy,
If ever I turn thus fantastical,
Love plague me j never pity me at all.
Enter PJIILLIS.
Anth. Yonder she conies that holds me prisoner.
JFranL What, Phillis, the foir maid of the Exchange ?
Is she god Cupid's judge over men's hearts ?
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 19
Brother, I'll have one venny with her tongue,
To breathe my wit, and jest at passion :
By your leave, mistress Flower.
Phil. Your rude behaviour scarce offers you welcome.
Frank. I prithee tell me, Phillis, I hear say
Thou keep'st Love captive in thy maiden thoughts.
PhiL That is a thought beyond your reach to know.
Frank. But shall I know it ?
Phil. On what acquaintance! then might you deem me
fond,
If, (as you say,) Love be at my command.
Frank. May not your friend command as great a
matter?
PhiL Til know him well, first, for that friend may
flatter.
Frank. Why, I hope you know me.
PhiL That's a question.
Frank. Well, if you do not, you shall before I stir.
Know you yonder lump of melancholy,
Yonder bundle of sighs, yonder wad of groans \
The same and I were chickens of one brood,
And if you know him, as I am sure you do,
Being his brother, you needs must know me too.
PhiL I partly have a guess of yonder gentleman.
His name is master Goulding, as I take it.
Anth. Moulding I am ; and thine, sweet fair, I am ;
And yet, not thine, but a most wretched man.
Thou know'st my cause of grief, my wotmd of wo j
And, knowing it, why wilt thou see it so ?
Put salves of comfort to my griefs unrest,
So may'st thou heal my sore of heaviness.
Frank. Hark you, feir maid, are you a surgeon !
I prithee give my brother Anthony
Somewhat to heal the love-sore of his mind 5
And yet 'tis pity that he should have hdlp :
c 2
20 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
A man as free as air or the sui^s rays,
As boundless in his function as the heavens,
The male and better part of flesh and blood,
In whom was poured the quintessence of reason,
To wrong the adoration of his Maker
By worshipping a wanton female skirt,
And making Love his idol ! fie, dotard, fie !
I am ashamed of this apostacy !
I'll talk with her to hinder his complaints.
Phillis, a word in private ere you go ;
I love you, sweet 1
PAH. Sour, it may be so.
Frank. Sour and sweet ! faith that doth scarce agree.
PAH. Two contraries, and so be we.
Frank. A plague on this courting ! Come, well inako aa
end.
PAil. I am sorry for it, since you seem my friend.
Frank. Ay, but thou canst not weep.
PAil. Then had I a hard heart.
Frank. How say you? Gorno, brother, now to your
part.
AntA. At your direction ? no, this merry gloo,
Q-ood brother, sorts not with my melancholy.
Love covets private conference ; so my sorrow
Oraveth your absence, which I fain would borrow.
Frank. No marvel then we say that Love is blind,
If it still revel in obscurity.
I will depart j I will not hinder love j
Til wash my hands, Farewell, sweet turtle-dove. [Gowff*
PAil. (to Anthony). Pfaith your brother is a proper
man.
Frank. What's your will with mo ?
Phil. Ev'n what you please.
Frank. Did you not call mo back ?
PhiL Not to my knowlege.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 21
Frank. No ? 'Sblood, somewhat did. Farewell, farewell ?
Phil. He is a very, very proper man.
Frank. I am in haste. Pray, urge me not to stay.
Phil. The man doth doat. Pray God he hits his way.
Frank. Tore God ! there's not a maid in all this town
Should sooner win me, but my business calls me.
Give me thy hand ; next time I meet with thee,
Lesser entreaty shall woo my company.
Phil, rfeith! i'faith!
FranL I'faith, this was the hand, what means my blood ?
Do I not blush, nor look extremely pale ?
Is not my head a-fire, my eyes, nor heart ?
Ha ! art thou there 2 I feel thee, Love, i'faith,
By this light. Well, via! farewell, farewell ! [Exit.
Anth. Now he is gone, and we in private talk.
Say, wilt thou grant me love, wilt thou be mine \
For all the interest in my love is thine.
PhiL Your brother Ferdinand hath vowM as much,
Nay, more : he swears, what man soe'er he be
Presumes to be corrival in his love,
He will revenge it as an injury,
And clothe the tluef in basest obloquy.
Anth. Ay, is my brother my competitor ?
Til court my love, and will solicit thee,
Were Ferdinand himself in company.
What say'st thou to iny suit \
Phil. Time may do much. What I intend to do,
I mean to pause upon.
Anth. Let it be so.
If that my brother's hinderance be all,
I'll have thy love, tho 1 by my brother's fall. [Exit.
PhiL Two brothers drown'd in love ! Ay, and the third,
For all his outward habit of neglect,
If I judge rightly, if I did not dream,
Hath dipt his foot, too, in Love's scalding stream.
22 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Well, let them plead and perish, if they will,
Cripple, my heart is thine, and shall be still [Est*it.
Re-mter PRANK.
Frank. I am not well, and yet, I am not ill.
I am what am I ! not in love, I hope ?
I]> love ? let me examine myself. Who should I lovo ? who
did I last converse with ? with Phillis. Why should I lovo
Phillis ? Is she fair ? faith, so so. Her forehead is pretty,
somewhat resembling the forehead of the sign of tho Maiden-
head Inn. What's her hair I ''faith, to Bandora-wiros thoro's
not the like simile. Is it likely yet that I am in lovo ? What's
next? her cheeks, they have a reasonable scarlet, never a dyer's
daughter in the town goes beyond her. Well, yet Tin not in lovo.
Nay, she hath a mole in her cheek, too : Venus^s mole was not
more natural 5 but what of that ? I am Adonis, and will not
love. Good Venus, pardon me. Let us descend. Her chin!
0, Helen, Helen ! where's your dimple, Helen ? it was your
dimple that bewitched Paris, and without your dimple, I will
not love you, Helen. No : yet I am safe. Her hand 5 let'a
handle that. I saw her hand, and it was lily-white. I touched
her palm, and it was soft and smooth : and then what then S
her hand did then bewitch me. I shall be in lovo now out of
hand. In love ! shall I, that ever yet have profaned Love, now
fall to worship him ? Shall I, that have jested at lovers siglus,
now raise whirlwinds ? shall I, that have flouted ah / mes onco
a quarter, now practise ah ! mes every minute? Shall I defy
hatbands, and tread garters and shoe-strings under my foot ?
shall I fell to falling-bands, and be a ruff-aa no longer ! I
must ; I am now liege-man to Cupid, and have read all theso
informations in his book of Statutes, the first chapter, page
mitte&imo-nono : Therefore, hat-band, avaunt ! ruff, regard
yourself I garters, adieu! shoe-strings so and so ! I am a
poor enamorate, and enforced, with the poet, to say,
Low overcomes all, and I that low obey. [Exit.
THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 23
ACT II. SCENE I.
FLOWER'S House. Enter FLOWER.
Flow. Now, afore Q-od ! a very good conceit !
But too much sleep hath overtaken me.
The night hath played the swift-foot runaway :
A good conceit, a very good conceit.
What, Fiddle ! arise, Fiddle ! Fiddle, I say !
Enter FIDDLE.
Fid. Here's a fiddling, indeed ! I think your tongue be
made of nothing but fiddle-strings. I hope the fiddle must
have some rest, as well as the fiddle-stick. Well, Crowd,
what say you to Fiddle now ?
Flow. Fiddle, it is a very good conceit.
Fid. It is, indeed, master.
Flow. What dost thou mean !
Fid. To go to bed again, sir.
Flow. No, Fiddle, that were no good conceit, Fiddle.
Fid. What a fiddling do you keep? are you not ashamed
to make such music ? I hope, sir, you will christen me anew
shortly 3 for you have so worn this name, that ne'er a wench
in all the town but will scorn to dance after my fiddle.
Flow. Well, Fiddle, thou art an honest fellow.
Fid. That's more than you know, master.
Flow. I'll swear for thee, Fiddle.
Fid. You'll be damned then, master.
Flow. I love theo, Fiddle.
Fid. 1 had rather your daughter lov'd me.
Flow. 'Tis a rare conceit, i'foith.
Fid. I hold with you, master, if my young mistress would
like so well of my music, that she would dance after nobody's
instrument but mine.
Flow. No, Fiddle, that wore no good conceit.
24 THE FAIR MAID OF TUB EXCHANGE.
Fid. A shame on you ! I thought you would not hoar on
that side.
Flow. Piddle, thou told'st me Master Goulding was iu lovo
with my daughter.
Fid. True, master; therein you say well.
Flow. And he entreats me to meet him at the Star, in
Cheap, to talk concerning the match.
Fid. True, still, master.
Flow. And I have sent for my neighbour, Master Uerry, to
bear me company.
Fid. True, all this is most natural truth.
Flow. And now, Fiddle, I am going 011 my way.
Fid. Nay, that's a lie that hath marred all. Was your
conceit so tired you could tell truth no longer ?
Flow. Why, Fiddle, are we not going ?
Fid. No, indeed, sir, we are not ; we stand still : your con-
ceit failed in that.
Flow. 'ForeG-od, 'tis true; I am not ready yet. What's he?
Enter BOBBING TON.
Sob. By your leave, sir : I would crave a word in socro,t, sir,
Flow. At your pleasure. Hero's none but my man, Fiddle.
Fid. Ay, sir, master Fiddle is my name. Sir Lawrence
Lyre was my father.
Sob. Sir, this is my business. My name is Backet ; I have
a ship of my own upon the River.
Flow. By your leave, sir ; Captain Backet is your name.
Bob. Some call me so, indeed, sir.
Flow. It is a good conceit ; I pray proceed.
Sob. Sir, I ain now bound to sea, and wanting some money
for the better furnishing of my wants.
Flow. Oh, you would borrow money of me.
Sob. That's my suit, indeed.
Flow. That's no good conceit.
Sob. Nay, hear me, sir. If you will supply me with ton
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 25
pound till my return from Barbary, I will leave in your hands
a diamond of greater value than the money.
Flow. A diamond ! is it a diamond, or but a counterfeit ?
Fiddle, my spectacles.
Bob. 'Tis night,, I assure you, sir.
Flow. Then 'tis a good conceit : my spectacles.
Fid. Here, sir.
Flow. Where, sir I
Fid. You cannot see, master, but I can.
Flow. Oh, "'tis good, it is a good conceit. Well, sir, ten
pound.
You are content that if at three months 11 end,
You bring me not ten pound, in English coin,
This diamond shall be my proper own.
Bob. I am, sir : shall I receive the money now ?
Flow. Ay, here it is 5 and 'tis a good conceit.
Will you go near, sir ? Fiddle, make him drink.
Fid. Will you approach, cavallero ? If I speak not in
season, 'tis because I was never in the salt country, where you
sea-captains use to march.
Bob. You are very eloquent, sir ; I'll follow you. * -
Fid. Let me alone then for leading iny men.
[Exeunt BOBBINGTON and FIDDLE.
Flow. A diamond worth forty for ten pound,
If he return not safe from Barbary.
'Tis good, a very good conceit.
Enter BERRY.
Ber. By your leave, master Flower.
Flow. Welcome, good master Berry. I was bold to intreat
your company to speak with a friend of mine. It is some
trouble, but the conceit is good.
Ber. No trouble at all, sir. Shall we be going ?
Flow. With all my heart, sir ; and as wo go I'll tell you
my conceit. Come, master Berry. [Exeunt.
26 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
SCENE II.
The Exchange, Enter at one door CRIPPLE : at the other,
BOWDLER.
Bow. Well met, my dear bundle of rue ! well mot !
Crip. As much to thee, my humorous blossom.
Bow. A plague on thee, for a dog ! Have I found thoo ?
I hate thee not ; and yet, by this hand, I could find in my
heart but, sirrah Crutch, I was encountered.
Crip. Who became your bail I
Bow. You filthy dog ; I was encountered by a wonch, I
say.
Crip. In a wench's Counter ! I thought no less : what,
sirrah, did'st thou lie in the knight's ward, or on tho master's
side?
Bow. Neither, neither, Ffaith.
Crip. Where then? In the Hole?
Bow. By this hand, Cripple, I'll bombast thoe.
Crip. My crutch, you mean, for wearing out my clothes.
Bow. Thy nose, dog, thy nose, a plague on theo ! I caro
not for thee ; and yet I cannot chuse but lovo theo. Sirrah !
Moll Berry was here about work thou hast of her's. Had'st
thou been here, to hare hoard how I spurred the wonch with
incantations, thou woulcTst have given me the praise for a
jester.
Crip. True, master Bowdler, I yield it you, I hold you for
the absolutest jester, 0, mistake me not : I moan to jost
upon, a juggling gull, a profound-seeing man of shallow wit,
that Europe, nay, the world, I think, affords.
Bow. Well, thou art a jew, sirrah. Til cut out that ve-
nomous tongue of thine, one of these days.
Crip. Do it in time, or Til crush the heart of thy wit,
till I have strained forth thy infectious humour to a drop,
i'faith.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 27
Enter MOLL BERRY.
Sow. Here comes my amorous vessel ! I'll board her, i'faith.
Well encountered, Moll ! How dost thou, wench, how dost
thou!
MolL What's that to you, sir !
Sow. Why, I ask thee in kindness.
Moll. Why, then, in kindness, you are a fool for asking.
Sow. Is the fool your Iwery.
MolL Not so ; for then, you, wearing that livery, would
term yourself my fool.
Sow. Meaning me ! you gull me not, if you do.
Moll What then S
Sow. 0, vile ! I would take you down.
Mott. Alas ! it wants wit. His wit is too narrow.
Sow. I'll stretch my wit, but I will take you down.
Moll. How ? upon the tenters ? indeed, if the whole piece
were so stretch'd, and very well beaten with a yard of reforma-
tion, no doubt it would grow to a goodly breadth.
JBoio. By this hanl
MolL Away, you ass ! hinder not my business.
Crip. Finely put off, wench, i'faith.
MolL By your leave, master Drawer.
Grip. Welcome, Mrs, Berry, I have been mindful of your
work.
MolL Is it done!
Crip. Yes, and here it is.
MolL Here is your money.
Cripple, ere lojig Til visit thee again.
I have some ruffs and stomachers to draw.
Crip* At your pleasure.
Sow. By thy leave, Moll, a word.
MolL Away, you bundle of nothing, away !
[EaAt MOLL.
Crip. She hath a wit as sharp as her needle.
28 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Bow. Alas ! myself liave been her whetstone with my con-
ference in the Exchange, any time these many years.
Crip. In the Exchange ! I have walked with thco there,
before the visitation of my logs, and my expense in timber, at
the least a hundred, times, and nover hoard theo speak to a
wench.
Bow. That's a lie: thou wert by when I bought thcso
gloves of a wench.
Grip. That's true : they cost thee an English shilling at a
word 5 marry, it follows in the text that your shilling proved
but a harpor, and thou wert shamefully arraigned for it.
Bow. Good 5 but I excused mysolf.
Crip. True, that thou thoughtest it had been a shilling ;
marry, thou had'st never another 5 nor so much as a shilling
inoro to change it. Thou, talk in the Exchange !
Bow. Indeed, my best gift is in the morning, when tho
maids visit my chamber with such necessaries as I usually buy
of them.
Crip. Oh, thou art one of those that, if an honost maid bo
sent to thy chamber with her mistress's goods, and return as
honest and chaste as the morn, sirrah ! you are one of tliowo
that will slander the poor wenches, by speaking liberally of
their proneness to lovo ; and, withal, brag how cheap you have
bought their ware metaphorically, when, indeed, they depart
as honest as they came thither, and leave you all the day after
to sigh at the sight of an ill bargain.
Bow. When wilt thou spit out this serpent's tonguo of thine ?
Crip. When wilt thou cast off this antick garment of osten-
tation? do it, do it, or, by the Lord! I will impress thy
vanities, and so anatomize tho very bowels of thy absurdities,
that all the world shall tako notice of theo for a fool, and shun
thee, as the pox, or the pestilence.
Enter BERNARD.
er. News, news, new# !
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 29
Bow. Sweet rogue, what's the matter ?
Ber. By Jesu ! the rarest dancing in Christendom.
Bow. Sweet rascal, where ? Oh, do not kill my soul
With such delays ; tell me, kind rogue, oh, tell
Me where it is.
Ber. At a wedding in Gracious street.
Bow. Come, come away ; I long to see the man
In dancing art that does more than I can.
Ber. Than you, sir ? he lives not.
Bow. Why, I did understand thee so.
Ber. You only excepted, the world besides
Cannot afford more exquisite dancers
Than are now cap'ring in that bride-ale house.
Bow. I will behold them. Come, Crutch, thou shalt
with us.
Crip. Not I.
Bow. Down, dog ! I'll have thy company.
Grip. I have business.
Bow. By this hand, thou shalt go with us.
Crip. By this log, I will not.
Bow. A lame oath ! never stand to that.
Crip. By this crutch, but I will.
Ber. Come, you loso time ; supper is done long since ;
And they aro now a dancing.
Enter BERRY and FIDDLE.
Berry. Stay, Fiddle, with thy torch. Gentlemen, good
even.
Ber. Master Berry.
Bow. Master Berry, I wish you well, sir. Master Fiddle,
I am your's for a congeo.
Fid. Aftor the French salutation, I am .yours for the like
courtesy.
Berry. Master Bernard, to-morrow is your day
Of payment, sir : I moan the hundred pound,
SO THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
For which I have your bond, I know 'tis sure,
You will not break an hour 5 then if you please
To come to dinner, sir, you shall be welcome.
Her. Sir, I did mean to visit you at home.
Not to pay down the money, but entreat
Two months forbearance.
Berry. How ! forbear my money ?
Your reason why I should forbear my own.
Ber. You know at first the debt was none of mine ;
I was a surety, not the principal.
Besides, the money that was borrowed
Miscarried in the venture ; my friend died,
And once already have you prisoned me,
To my great charge, almost my overthrow,
And somewhat raised the debt by that advantage.
These things considered, you may well forbear
For two months" 1 space so small a sum as this.
Berry. How ! I forbear, sir I I havo need of money :
I may indeed sit moneyless at home,
And let you walk abroad, spending my coin.
This I may do ; but, sir, you, know my miud :
If you do break your day, assure yourself,
That I will take the forfeit of your bond.
Grip. The forfeit of his bond !
Berry. Ay, sir, the forfeit : 'tis no charity
To fitvour you that live like libertines.
Here's a crew I
AIL A crew : what crew ?
Berry. A crow of unthrifts, careless dissolutos,
Licentious prodigals, vile tavern-tracers*
Night-watching money-wasters, what should I call yo ?
OIv I want words for to define you rightly j
But this I know, London ne'er foster'd such
As Bernard, Bowdler, and this paltry Crutch.
Crip. And you want words, sirrah, 111 teach thoe wordk
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 31
Thou should'st have come to ev'ry one of us
As thus : thou wretch, thou miser, thou vile slave
And drudge to money, bondman to thy wealth,
Apprentice to a penny, thou that hoard'st up
The fry of silver pence and half-pennies,
With show of charity to give the poor,
But put'st them to increase, where in short time
They grow a child's part, or a daughter's portion.
Thou that invent'st new clauses for a bond
To cousin simple plainness. Oh ! not a dragon,
No, nor the devil's fangs, are half so cruel
As are thy claws : thus, thus, thou shouldst have railed.
Tho forfeit of his bond ! Oh, I could spit
My hoart into thy face ; thou blood-hound, that
Dost hunt the dear, dear life of noble gentry.
Berry. Cripple, 'tis known T am an honest man $
But, for thy words, Bernard shall fe.re the worse :
As for thyself
Fid. Who ? he, sir ? never regard him. I know the vilest
thing by him. Oh, 'tis abominable.
Sorry. Dost thou so, Fiddle? speak: hold, take thou that ;
speak of his shamo ; speak freely ; I'll protect thee.
Fid. I toll you, sir, 'twill make your hair to stand on end,
as stiff as a rubbing-brush, to hear his villanies. What's this
you have given me ?
Berry* A shrilling, Fiddle.
Fid. Have you any skill in arithmetic?
Berry. Why dost thou ask ?
Fid. Sir, I would have you to multiply 5 could you not
make this one shilling two or three ! I would not be known
to beg \ but if, out of your cunning, you can do this trick of
multiplication, I shall speak the better.
B0rry. Oh, there's another shilling for thee. Now let me
hear what villanies thou canst charge the Cripple with.
Fid. So, sir j this is multiplication. Now, sir, if you know
32 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
the rule of addition, yon arc an excellent scholar. Can you
not add ?
B&rwj. What dost thou mean ?
Fid. Another shilling, sir.
Berry. There is another shilling. Now, Fiddle, speak.
Fid. Why, then, attend, you hills aud dales, and stones HO
quick of hearing : this Cripple is
AIL What is he, villain !
Fid. An honest man as any is in all the town.
Berry. An honest man !
Fid. Ay, by this silver, and as good a follow aa ever wont
upon four legs ; if you would multiply till midnight, I would
never speak otherwise.
Berry. Fiddle, thou art a knave, and so is he :
Come, let us home j Bernard, look to thy bond \
If thou do break thy day, I do protest,
By yon chaste moon
Fid. The chaste moon ! why, tho moon is not chaste.
B&rry. How proVst thou that 1
Fid. Why, nir, there's a man in the middle of her. How
can she be chaste, then ?
Berry. Then, by my lite, I swear, 111 clap him up
Where he shall see neither the sun nor moon,
Till I be satisfied tho utmost penny ;
And so farewell ! [J8W$.
Fid. Gallants, good night : if time and place wore in pro-
sperity, I were your's for an hour's society, I must alter you
mulberry with my torch. Adieu, dear hearts, adieu ! {jflscit.
Bow. Come, Bernard ; lot's to tho dancing ; lot's tickle it
to-night ; for to-morrow thy hools may bo too heavy.
Ber. AlTs one ; my heart shall bo as light as firo.
Come, shall we go ?
Bow* Cripple, will you along ?
Grip. My business stays me here.
Sow. Farewell then, .dog of Israel, farewell!
THE PAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 33
Crip. " AlPs one $ my heart shall be as light as
fire r
'Sblood, were I indebted a hundred pound,
My fortunes faifd and fled, as Bernard's are,
Not worth an hundred pence, as Bernard is,
I should be now devising sentences
And caveats, for posterity to carve
Upon the inside of the Counter-wall :
Therefore I'll now turn provident : Til to
My shop, and fall to work.
Enter PHILLIS.
Phil. Yonder's his shop. Oh, now, you gods ab6ve !
Pity poor Phillis' heart, that melts in love ;
Instruct the Cripple to find out my love,
Which I will shadow under the conceit
Of my invention for this piece of work.
Oh, teach him how to yield me love again,
A little, little love, a dram of kind affection.
His many virtues are my true direction.
By your leave, master Drawer !
Crip. Welcome, mistress Flower"! what's your plea-
sure?
PhiL My cause of coming's not unknown to you.
Here is bespoken work, which must be wrought
With expedition ; pray have care of it.
The residue I refer to your direction :
Only this handkercher, a young gentlewoman
Wished me to acquaint you with her mind herein :
In one corner of the same, place wanton Love,
Drawing his bow, shooting an amorous dart-
Opposite against him an arrow in a heart ;
In a third corner picture forth Disdain,
A cruel fete unto a loving vein ;
In the fourth draw a springing laurel-tree,
D
34 THE PAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Circled about with a ring of poesy :
And thus it is :
Love wounds the heart, and conquers fell Disdain.
Love pities love, seeing true low in pain :
Love seeing Love how faithful Love did breathe.
At length impaVd Love with a lawrel-wreatli.
Thus you have heard the gentlewoman's mind.
I pray be careful that it be well done :
And so I leave you. More I fain would say ;
But shame forbids, and calls me hence away. [J8r//.
Crip. Sweet fair, I pity you, yet no relief
Harbours within the closet of my soul.
This Phillis bears me true affection $
But I detest the humour of fond love :
Yet am I hourly solicited
As now you see ; and fain she would make known
The true porplexion of her wounded heart :
Bnt modesty, checking her forwardness.
Bids her be still ; yet she in similies
And love-comparisons, like a good scholar,
By figures, makes a demonstration
Of the true love enclosed in her heart.
I know it well, yet will not tell her so.
Fancy shall never marry me to Woe :
Take this of me, a young man's never marr'd,
Till lie by marriage from all joy be barrM. [Itiirit.
SCENE III. continues.
Enter FRANK, singing.
Te god-s of Love, that sit above,
And pity lovers' pain,
Look from yoivr tlvrones, wpwi tJw moms,
That I do nmc sustain.
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 35
AVas ever man thus tormented with love ?
SONG.
Ye little birds that sit and sing
Amidst the shady vallies,
And see how Phillis sweetly walks,
Within her garden-allies j
Go, pretty birds, about her bower ;
Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower j
Ah, me ! methinks I see her frown !
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Go, tell her, through your chirping bills,
As you by me are bidden,
To her is only known my love,
Which from the world is hidden.
Go, pretty birds, and tell her so 5
See that your notes strain not too low.
For still, methinks, I see her frown.
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Go, tune your voices 1 harmony,
And sing, I am her lover j
Strain loud and sweet, that ev'ry note
With sweet content may move her.
And she that hath the sweetest voice,
Tell her I will not change my choice 5
Yet still, methinks, I see her frown.
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Oh, fly ! make haste ! see, see, she falls
Into a pretty slumber.
Sing round about her rosy bed,
That waking, ehe may wonder.
D 2
36 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Say to her, His her lover true
That sendeth love to you, to you ;
And when you hear her kind reply,
Return with pleasant warblings.
A vaunt, delusion ! thoughts cannot win my love :
Love, though divino, cannot divine my thoughts :
Why, to the air, then, do I idle here
Such heedless words, far off, and ne^er the near.
Hie thee, young Frank, to her that keeps thy heart $
Then let sweet words thy sweeter thoughts impart.
But stay, here come my melancholy brothers.
I'll step aside and hear their conference. {Escit.
Enter ANTHONY and FERDINAND, severally.
Anth. What, is my brother Ferdinand so near \
He is my elder ; I must needs give place ;
Anthony, stand by, and list what ho doth say ;
Haste calls me hence ; yet T will brook delay.
Ferd. Shall I exclaim 'gainst fortune and mishap ?
Or rail on Nature, who first framed me ?
Is it hard Chance that keeps me from my love ?
Or is this heap of loathM deformity
The cause that breeds a blemish in her eye ?
I know not what to think, or what to say,
Only one comfort yet I have in store,
Which I will practise, tho"* I ne^or try more.
Anth. Oh, for to hear that comfort I do long ;
Til turn it to a strain to right my wrong.
Ferd* I have a brother, rival in my lovo ;
I have a brother hates mo for my love ;
I have a brother vows to win my lovo $
That brother too he hath incenst my love,
To gain the beauty of my dearest love ;
What hope remains, then, to enjoy niy love ?
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 37
Anth. I am that brother rival in his love ;
I am that brother hates him for his love ;
Not his, but mine ; and I will have that love,
Or never live to see him kiss my love.
What thou erst said, I am that man alone
That will depose you, brother, from love's throne ;
I am that man, tho' you my elder be,
That will aspire beyond you one degree.
Ferd. I have no means of private conference ;
So narrowly pursues my hinderer.
No sooner am I entered the sweet court
Of lovely rest, my love's rich mansion,
But rival love to my affection
Follows me, as a soon-enforced straw
The drawing virtue of a sable jet.
This, therefore's, my determination
Within the close womb of a sealed paper
Will I write down, in bloody characters,
The burning zeal of my affection ;
And, by some trusty messenger or other,
Convey the same into my love's own hand :
So shall I know her resolution,
And how she fancies my affection.
Anth. Yet, subtle fox, I may perchance to cross you.
Brother, well met. Whither away so fast ?
Ferd. About affairs that do require some haste.
Anth. 'Tis well done, brother ; you still seek for gain.
Ferd. But you would reap the harvest of my pain.
Farewell, good brother ! I must needs be gone :
I have serious business now to think upon.
Yet, for I fear my brother Anthony,
I'll step aside, and stand awhile unseen ;
I may perchance descry which way he goes ;
Thus, policy must work 'twixt friends and foes.
[Exit aside.
38 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
AntL So he is gone. I scarcely trust him neither ;
For 'tis his custom, like a sneaking fool,
To fetch a compass of a mile about,
And creep where he would be. Well, let him pass.
I heard him say, that since by word of mouth
He could not purchase his sweet mistress 1 favour,
He would endeavour what his wit might do
By writing, and by tokens. Oh, 'tis good,
Writing with ink ! Oh, no, but with his blood !
Well, so much for that. Now I know his mind,
I do intend not to be far behind.
He'll send a letter $ I will write another :
Do what you can, 111 be before you, brother.
I'll intercept his letter by the way,
And, as time serves, the same T will bewray :
Mine being made, a porter Til procure,
That shall convey that heart-enticing lure.
About it, then. My letter shall be writ,
Though not with blood, yet with a reaching wit. [Eoctt.
JFerd. And shall it so, good brother Anthony !
Were you so near when we in secret talk'd !
WilTt ne'er be otherwise 2 will you dog mo still ?
Re-mter FRANK.
Welcome, sweet Frank ! such news I have to tell,
As cannot chuse but like thee passing well.
Thou know'st my love to Phillis ?
Frank. Brother, say on.
Ferd. Thou likewise art acquainted with my rival,
And I do build upon your secrecy.
Frank. 'Sblood, and I thought you did not, I'd rotiro.
Brother, you know I love you as my life.
Ferd. I dare profess as much, and thereupon
Make bold to crave thy furtherance, in a thing
Concerns me much.
THE PAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 39
Frank. Out with it, brother ;
If I shrink back, repose trust in some other.
Ferd. Then thus it is. My brother, all in haste,
Is gone, to write a letter to my love ;
And thinks thereby to cross me in my suit,
Sending it by a porter to her hand.
If ever, therefore, thou wilt aid thy brother,
Help me in this, who seeks help from no other.
Frcmti. By the red lip of that dainty saint, I'll aid thee all
I may.
Ferd. It is enough. Then, brother, 111 provide
A porter's habit, like in ev'ry point.
Will you but so much humble your estate
To put yourself in that so base attire,
And, like so mean a person, wait his coming,
About his door, which will not be o'er long,
Thou shalt for ever bind me to thy love.
Frank. Brother, 'tis a base task, by this light j
But to procure a further force of love,
Til do't 5 i'faith, I will, sweet Ferdinand.
About it then. Provide thee some disguise ;
But see you stay not long in any wise.
Here shall you find me. Go, despatch !
Ferd. For this I'll love thee everlastingly. \Exit.
Frank. Mean time Til cross your love, and if I can.
Here's no villainy betwixt us three brothers :
My brother Ferdinand he would have the wench ;
And Anthony he hopes to have her too.
Then what may I ? Faith, hope well, as they do.
Neither of them know that I love the maid,
Yet by this hand I am half mad for love.
I know not well what love is ; but 'tis sure,
I'll die if I have her not. Therefore,
Good brothers mine, beguile you one another,
Till you be both gull'd by your younger brother.
40 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Re-enter FERDINAND.
Ferd. Here is a porter's habit. On with it, brother.
Frcmk. Your hand then, brother, for to put it on.
So now, 'tis well. Come, brother, what's my task ?
Ferd. This first that thou make haste to Anthony's,
Ask for a burthen, and thou shalt be sure
To have his letter to my dear love Phillis ;
Deliver it not, but keep it to thyself,
^Till thou hast given this paper to her hands,
Whose lines do intimate my chaste desires :
This is the sum of all. Good Frank, make haste j
Love burns in me ; and I in love do waste.
[JSW*.
Frank. Waste still $ but let me in my lovo increase.
Now would not all the world take me for a portor ?
How strangely am I metamorphosed !
And yet I need not be ashamed neither ;
Jove, when his love-scapes he attempted, over
Transformed himself, yet ever sped in love.
Why may not I then in this strange disguise ?
This habit may prove mighty in Love's power,
As beast, or bird, bull, swan, or golden shower.
Be-witer ANTHONY.
Anth. Within the centre of this paper square,
Have I wrote down, in bloody characters,
A pretty posy of a wounded heart.
Such is Love's force, once burst into a flame,
Do what we can, we cannot quench the same,
Unless the tears of pity move compassion,
And so quench out the fire of affection,
Whose burning force heats mo in ev'ry vein,
That I to Love for safety must complain.
This is my orator, whose dulcet tongue
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 41
Must plead my love to beauteous Phillis.
Now for a trusty messenger, to be
Employed herein, betwixt my love and me !
And, in good time, I see a porter nigh.
Come hither, fellow ! dwelPst thou hereabout ?
Frank. Sir, my abiding is not far from hence ;
And Trusty John men call me by my name.
Anth. Can'st thou be trusty then, and secret too,
Being employed in weighty business ?
Frank. Sir, I was never yet disproved in either.
Ferd. Then mark me well. In Oornhill by th* Exchange,
Dwells an old merchant 5 Flower they call his name.
He hath one only daughter, to whose hands,
If thou conveniently can give this letter,
Til pay thee well, make thee the happiest porter
That ever undertook such business.
Frank. Sir, give me your letter. If I do it not,
Then let your promised favor be forgot.
Anth. Anthony Goulding is my name, my friend ;
About it then : thy message being done,
Make haste to me again : till when, I leave thee. [Exit.
Frank. And so fare thee well, loving brother I
It had been better you had sent some other.
Let me consider what is best be done*
Shall I deliver his letter ? no :
Shall I convey it to my rival brother ! nor so :
Shall I tear the same ? No, not for a million.
What shall I then do ? marry, like a kind brother,
Open the book ; see what is written there.
If nought but love, in love have thou a share.
Brother, by your leave, I hope you'll not deny
But that I love you : G-od bless my eyesight !
A sonnet 'tis, in verse : now, on my life,
He hath perus'd all the impressions
Of sonnets, since the fall of Lucifer,
42 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
And made some scurvy, quaint collection
Of fustian phrases, and uplandisli words.
THE LETTER.
Fair glory of virtue ! thy enamorate
Pleads loyally in pure affection.
Whose passion Love do thou exonerate,
And he shall live by thy protection :
Nor from thy love shall he once derogate,
For any soul under this horizon.
Yield thou to Love \ and I will fail in neither ;
So Love and Truth shall always live together.
Your's devoted,
ANTHONY GOULDIN.
Before God, excellent good poetry !
'Sblood, what means he by this line ?
" For any soul under this horizon."
No matter for his meaning, mean what ho will,
I mean his meaning shall not be delivered.
But for my other trust, my other letter,
That shall come short too of fair Phillis' handw.
There is a cripple dwelling here at hand,
Thatfs very well acquainted with the maid,
And for I once did rescue them from thieves,
Swore, if he livM, he would requite that kindness.
To him I will for counsel : he shall bo
My tutor by his wit and policy. \JSat
ACT III. SCENE I.
The Exchange* Discovers Soy in a shop, cutting square
parchments. To Mm enter PIULLIS,
PhiL Why, how now, sirrah ! can you find nought to do
But waste the parchment in this idle sort !
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE, 43
Boy. I do but what my mistress gave in charge.
Phil. Your mistress ! in good time ! then, sir, it seems,
Your duty cannot stoop but to her lure.
Sir, 1 will make you know that, in her absence,
You shall account to my demand. Your mistress !
And your mistress 1 will is this ! and thus you'll do !
Bat answer to the motion I have made,
Or you. shall feel you have another mistress now.
Speak 1 why, when, I say ?
Boy. Indeed, I know your glory.
Your pride's at full in this authority.
.But were it not for modest bashfulness,
And that I dread a base contentious name,
I would not be a by-word to the Exchange,
For every one to say (myself going by)
Yon goes a vassal to authority.
Phil. You would not, sir ! had I the yard in hand,
I'd measure your pate for this delusion ;
And by my maiden chastity I swear.
Unless [Beaches for the yard, and the Boy stays her hand.
Boy. What unless ! I know your wilfulness ;
Those words are but to show the world your humour.
I often use to square these parchment-pieces
Without occasion. I'm sure you are not wit-ting,
The lawns you lately bought of Master Brookes
Are new come home, brought by the merchant's servant.
I know you are short member'd, but not so short
Of your remembrance that this is news to you.
Phil. You're best to brave me in a taunting humour.
Wilt please you ope the door ? where's Ursula ?
Oh, here's good stuff! my back's no sooner turned,
But she must needs be gadding j and where, I pray ?
Boy. She's gone to Master Palmer's, on th' other side.
Phil. On great occasions, sir 5 I doubt it not.
[Sits and works in the shop.
44 THE PATE MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Enter Master RICHARD G-ARDINER, booted, an& Master WIL-
LIAM BENNET, two gmtlemmi^ at me end of the stage.
Ben. Kind Dick, thou wilt not be unmindful of my duty
To that same worthy arts-master, Lionel Barnes.
Gard. My love, sweet Will, hath chained it to my memory .
B&ii. Then, with this kind embrace, I take my leave,
Wishing thou wert as safe arrived at Cambridge,
As thou art at this present near the Exchange.
Gard. And, well remembered, kind Will Bennet !
Others 1 affairs made me oblivious
Of mine own ; I pray thee, go to the Exchange 5
I have certain bands and other linen to buy.
Prithee accompany me.
Ben. With all my heart.
Gard. Sure, this is a beauteous, gallant Walk !
Were my continual residence in London,
I should make much use of such a pleasure :
Methinks the glorious virgins of this squaro
Give life to dead-struck youth. Oh, heavens !
Ben. Why, how now, Dick !
Gard. By my sweet hopes of an hereafter bliss,
I never saw a fairer face than this I
Oh, for acquaintance with so rich a beauty 1
Bm. Take thy occasion. Never hadst thou better.
Gard. Have at her then !
Phil. What lack you, gentlemen !
Gard. Faith, nothing, had I thee.
For in thine eye all my desires I see.
Phil. My shop you mean, sir 5 thore you may have choice
Of lawns, or cambricks, ruffs well wrought, shirts,
Fine falling bands of the Italian cut-work,
Buffs for your hands, waistcoats wrought with silk,
Nightcaps of gold, or such like wearing linen,
Fit for the chapman of whaWer degree.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 45
Gard. Faith, virgin,
In my days I have worn and outworn much,
Yea, many of these golden necessaries ;
But such a gallant beauty, or such a form
I never saw, nor never wore the like.
Faith, be not then unkind $ but let me wear
This shape of thine, although I buy it dear.
Phil. What, hath the tailor play'd his part so well,
That with my gown you are so far in love ?
Gard. Mistake not, sweet ! your garment is the cover
That veils the shape and pleasures of a lover.
PML That argues then you do not see my shape.
How comes it then you are in love with it ?
Gard. A garment made by cunning arts-men's skill
Hides all defects that Nature's swerving hand
Hath done amiss, and makes the shape seem pure ;
If then it grace such lame deformity,
It adds a greater grace to purity.
Phil. O, short-liv'd praise ! even now I was as fair
As any thing 5 now fouler nothing.
Dissembling men ! what maid will credit them ?
Gard. How misconstruction leads your thoughts awry !
Ben. I prithee, Dick, ha 1 done ; think on thy journey.
Phil. You counsel well, sir. I think the gentleman
Comes but to whet his whit, and 'tis but need ;
? Tis blunt enough j he may ride for upon it.
Gard. Marry gip, minx !
PhiL A fine word in a gentleman's mouth !
'Twere good your back were towards me ; there can I
Read better content than in the face of lust.
Gard. Now you display your virtues as they are.
Phil. What am I ! you cipher, parenthesis of words,
Stall-troubler, prater 5 what sit I here for naught ?
Bestow your lustful courtship on your minions ;
This place holds none ; you and your companion,
46 THE FAIR MATD OF THE EXCHANGE.
Get you down the stairs 5 or I protest
I'll make this squared walk too hot for you.
Had you been as you seem'd in outward show,
Honest gentlemen, such terms of vile abuso
Had not been proffered to virginity ;
But swains will quickly show their base descent.
Gard. This is no place for brawls 3 but if it wero,
Your impositions are more than I would bear.
Ben. Come, she's a woman 5 I prithee leave her.
[Ex&wit GARD. and BEN.
Phil. Nay, sure a maid, unless her thoughts deceive her.
God speed you well ! Sirrah, boy !
Boy. Anon !
Phil. Go to the starcher's for the suit of ruffs
For Master Bowdler's bands and Master Goulding's shirts.
Let's have a care to please our proved friends :
As for our strangers, if they use us well,
For love and money, love and ware we'll sell. [Esc&unt.
SCENE II.
Another part of tfo Ecccluwige. The CRIPPLE discovered at
work. Enter FRANK, disguised as a porter.
Frank. Now fortune be my guide. This is the shop,
And in good time the Cripple is at work.
God speed you, sir !
Crip. Welcome, honest friend ! what's thy will with me?
Fra/iik. I would entreat you, read a letter for me.
Crip. With all my heart :
I know the maid to whom it is directed.
Frcmk. (aside). I know you do, Cripple, better than you
think.
Crip. I pray you, what gentleman writ the same !
Frank. Sir, a gentleman of good learning, and my friend :
To say the truth, 'twas written for myself,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 47
Being somewhat overtaken with fond love,
As many men be, sir.
Crip. Why art thou persuaded, or hast thou any hope,
So beautiful a virgin as she is 5
Of such fair parentage, so virtuous,
So gentle, kind and wise, as Phillis is,
That she will take remorse of such base stuff.
I think not so. But let me see : what's thy name ?
Fraiik. Trusty John, men call me, sir.
Crip. How comes it then, your blinded secretary
Hath writ another name unto the letter?
" Yours devoted, Anthony G-oulding."
But sure this letter is no right of thine :
Either thou found'st the same by happy chance,
Or, being employed as a messenger,
Play'dst legerdemain with him that sent the same.
Wherefore the maid, well known unto myself,
I will reserve the letter to her use,
That she, if by the name herein set down,
She know the gentleman that doth wish her well,
She may be grateful for his courtesy.
Frank. Nay then I see I must disclose myself.
Sir, might I build upon your secrecy,
I would disclose a secret of import.
Crip. Assure thyself, I will not injure thee.
Frank. Then, Cripple, know, I am not what I seem ;
But took this habit to deceive my friend :
My friend indeed, but yet my cruel foe :
Foe to my good, my friend in outward show !
I am no porter, as I seem to be,
But younger brother to that Anthony 3
And, to be brief, I am in love with Phillis,
Which my two elder brothers do affect :
The one of them, seeks to defeat the other :
Now, if that I, being their younger brother,
48 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Could gull them both, by getting of the wonch,
I would requite it with lovers recompence.
Cripple, thou once didst promise me thy love,
When I did rescue thee on Mile-end Green.
Now is the time ; now let me have thy aid
To gull my brothers of that beauteous maid.
Crip* Sir, what I promised I will now perform \
My love is yours, my life to do you good,
Which to approve, follow me but in all ;
Well gull your brothers, in the wonch and all.
Fraaik. Say'st thou me so, friend ? for that very word,
My life is thine. Command my hand and sword.
Crip. Then let me see this letter. It should seem
You undertook to carry it from your brother
To the maid.
Frank. I did, and from my brother Ferdinand
This other letter to the same effect.
Crip. Well, list to me, and follow my advice.
You shall deliver neither of them both 3
But frame two letters of your own invention,
Letters of flat denial to their suits.
Give them to both your brothers, as from Phillis,
And let each line in either letter tend
To the dispraise of both their features 5
And the conclusion I would have set down,
A flat resolve, bound with some zealous oath,
Never to yield to either of their suits.
And if this sort not well to your content,
Condemn the Cripple.
Frank. But this will ask much time,
And they by this time look for my return.
Crip. Why then myself will fit you presently,
I have the copies in my custody
Of sundry letters to the same effect.
Frank. Of thy own writing !
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 49
Crip. My own, I assure you, sir.
Frank. Faith, thou hast robb'd some sonnet-book or other,
And now wouldst make me think they are thine own.
Crip. Why, think'st thou that I cannot write a letter,
Ditty, or sonnet, with judicial phrase,
As pretty, pleasing, and pathetical,
As the best Ovid-imitating dunce
In all the town !
Frank. I think thou canst not.
Crip, Yea, I'll swear I cannot.
Yet, sirrah, I could coney-catch the world,
Make myself famous for a sudden wit,
And be admired for my dexterity,
Were I disposed.
Frank. I prithee, how ?
Crip. Why thus. There liv^d a poet in this town
(If we may term our modern writers poets)
Sharp-witted, bitter-tongued, his pen of steel,
His ink was tempered with the biting juice,
And extracts of the bitterest weeds that grew.
He never wrote but when the elements
Of fire and water tilted in his brain :
This fellow, ready to give up his ghost
To Lucia's bosom, did bequeath to me
His library, which was just nothing,
But rolls, and scrolls, and bundles of <sast wit,
Such as durst never visit Paul's Churchyard.
Amongst them all, I happened on a quire
Or two of paper, filTd with songs and ditties,
And here and there a hungry epigram.
These I reserve to iny own proper use.
And, pater-noster-like, have conned them all.
I could now, when I am in company
At ale-house, tavern, or an ordinary,
Upon a theme make an extemporal ditty
E
50 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
(Or one at least should seem oxtemporal)
Out of the abundance of this legacy,
That all would judge it, and report it too,
To bo the infant of a sudden wit,
And then I were an admirable fellow.
Frank. This were a piece of cunning.
Crip. I could do more ; for I could make inquiry
Whore the bost-witted gallants use to dine $
Follow them to the tavern $ and there sit
In the next room with a calves-head and brimstone,
And overhear their talk, observe their humours :
Collect their jests, put them into a play,
And tire them too with payment, to behold
What I have filclTd from them. This I could do :
But oh, for shame that men should so arraign
Their own fee-simple wits for verbal theft !
Yet men there be that have done thia and that,
And more by much more than the most of them.
Frank. But to our purpose, Oripplo, to thco letters.
Crip. I have them ready for you, hero they be.
Give these to your two brothers $ say that Plullis
Delivered them with frowns, and though her names
Be not subscribed (which may not well be done)
It may perhaps give them occasion
To think she scorned them so much grace and favour.
This done, return to ine ; and let me know
Tir occurrents of this practice, as they grow $
And so farewell ! I can no longer stand
To talk with you. I have some work in hand.
Frank. Farewell, mad Cripple ! now, Frank Gouldinp, fly
To put in practice this new policy.
But soft, here comes the maid. I will essay
Ent&r Pmu.18 and FIDDLE.
To plead my own love by a stranger way.
By your leave, sir.
THE FAIR MATD OF THE EXCHANGE. 51
Fid. Porter, I am not for you. You see I am perambu-
lating before a female.
Frank. I would crave but a word with you.
Fid. Speak in time, then, porter ; for otherwise I do not
love to answer you ; and be as brief as you can, good porter.
Frank. I pray you, sir, what gentlewoman is this !
Fid. Certes, porter, I serve a gentleman. That gentleman
is father to this gentlewoman. This gentlewoman is a maid.
This maid is fair. And this fair maid belongeth to the Ex-
change. And the Exchange hath not the like fair maid.
Now, porter, put this all together \ and tell me what it spells.
Frank. I promise you, sir, you have posed me.
Fid. Then you are an ass, porter ! 'Tis the fair Maid of
the Exchange.
Frank. Her name, I pray you, sir ?
Fid. Her name, porter, requires much poeticality in the
subscription ; and no less judgment in the understanding.
Her name is Phillis, not Phillis that same dainty lass that
was beloved of Amyntas \ nor Phillis she that doated on that
comely youth Demophoon; but this is Phillis, that most
strange Phillis, the flower of the Exchange.
PhiL What, would that porter anything with me?
Frank. Yes, mistress. Since by chance I meet you here,
111 tell you, tho n it not concerns myself
What I this morning saw. There is a gentleman,
One Master (Joulding, the youngest of three brothers,
They call him Frank. This man lies veiy sick.
I being at his house, perchance, inquired
What his disease was, of a servant there,
Who said, the doctors cannot tell themselves ;
But in his fits he ever calls on Love,
And prays to Love for pity, and then names you,
And then names Love again 5 and then calls Phillis,
And sometimes starts, and would forsake his bed,
And being asked whither, says he would go to Phillis.
E2
62 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
My business calFd me hence $ but I heard say
His friends do mean to intreat you to take the pains
To visit him, because thoy do suppose
The sick man loves you, and thence his sickness grows.
PML Porter, is this true ?
Or art thou hir'd to this, I prithee tell me.
Frank. Mistress, not hired : my name is Trusty John.
If I delude you, never trust me more.
PML I thank thee, porter, and thank Love withal,
That thus hath wrought the tyrant Goulding's fall :
He once scorned Love, josted at wounded hearts,
Challenged almighty beauty, rail'd at passion ;
And is he now caught by the eyes and heart ?
Now by Diana's milk-white veil, I swear,
The goddess of my maiden chaste desires,
I am as glad of it as glad may be ;
And I will see him, if but to laugh at hiui,
And torture him with jests. Fiddle, along !
When we return, if they do send for mo,
HI arm myself with flouts and cruelty.
Fid. Porter, we commit you ; if you be a crafty knave and
lay in the wind for a vantage, you have your answer : mark
her last words " HI arm myself with flouts and cruelty.""
\Ex&mt PHILLIS and FIDDLE.
Frank. " I'll arm myself with flouts and cruelty. 11
Will you so, Phillis ? what a state am I in \
Why, I of all am furthest from her love :
'Sblood, if I now should take conceit at this,
Fall sick with love indeed, were not my state
Most lamentable ? Ay, by this hand, were it.
Well, heart, if thou wilt yield, look to thyself!
Thou wilt be tortur'd 5 well, what remedy !
ANTHONY.
Here comes my brother Anthony ! I am for him.
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 53
Anth. Porter, what news? spake you with Phillis?
Frank, (aside). Ay, too late, to my grief.
(Aloud). Spoke with her, sir, Ffaith I think I have.
Here is a letter for you ; and by that
You shall judge if I did speak with her.
Now, Cripple, shall we prove your learned wit !
Anth. Zounds, am I mad, or is she mad that writ this ?
I'll read it o'er again.
THE LETTER;
Sir,
I did never like you ; I do not now think well of you ;
and I will never love you. I chuse my husband with my eyes,
and I have seen some especial fault in you, as the colour of
your hair, the elevating of your head to an affected proportion,
as if you fainted for want of air, and stood in that manner to
suck it into your nose ; your neck is too long ; and (to be
short) I like no part in or about you 3 and the short and the
long, boy, is, that I will never love you j and I will never
marry but one I love.
NOT TOUR'S, BUT HER OWN.
Blank, I am struck blank, and blind, and mad withal.
Here is a flat denial to my suit,
A resolution never to be won.
What shall I do ? assist me, Q-od of Love !
Instruct me in thy school-tricks \ be my guide
Out of this labyrinth of love and fear,
Unto the palace of feir Phillis' favour.
I have it : I will intimate her mother
In my behalf, with letters and with gifts.
To her IT! write to be my advocate.
Porter, farewell ! there's for thy pains ;
Thy profit by this toil passeth my gains. [Exit.
Frank. You havo your answer, and a kind one too.
54 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Cripple, Til make thee crutches of pure silver,
For this device. Thou hast a golden wit.
Now if my brother Ferdinand were here,
To read his absolution here he comes !
Enter FERDINAND.
Brother !
Ferd. Frank!
What, hast thou given the letter to her hand ?
And stay'd my brother Anthony withal !
Frank. I have done both, and, more than that, behold,
Here is an answer to your letter, brother.
Antih. Frank, I will love thee, while I live for this.
Frank. Scarce, when you read what there contained is.
Ferd.
THE LETTER.
Gallant,
That write far love, if you had come yourself, you
might perchance have sped. I do not counsel you neither to
come yourself, unless you leave your head at home, or wear a
vizard, or come backwards ; for I never look you in tho face
but I am sick. And so, praying God to continue my health,
by keeping you from me, I leave you.
0, unkind answer to a lovers letter !
Let me survey the end once more :
" For I never look you in the face but I am sick. And so y
praying God to continue me in health, by keeping you from
me"
Is she so far from yielding ? is this fort
Of her chaste love yet so impregnable 2
What shall I do ? this is the furthest way,
A labour of impossibilities,
This way to win her ! I will once again
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 55
Challenge the promise that her father made me.
To him HI write, and he (I know) will plead
My love to Phillis, and so win the maid. [Exit.
Frank. Farewell, poor tortured heart ! was ever known
Two loving brothers in such misery ?
Let me consider of my own estate :
What profit do I reap by this delusion ?
Why none 5 I am as far from Phillis 1 heart
As when she first did wound me with her eyes.
Cripple, to thee 1 come 3 'tis thou must be
My counsellor in this extremity. [Exit.
SCENE III.
Continues. Enter CRIPPLE, BOWDLER, and BERNARD.
Crip. Sirrah Bowdler, what makes thee in this merry vein ?
Bow. Lord, sir ! it is your most elevated humour to be
merry. To be concise, set up the collar, and look thus with a
double chin, like Diogenes peering over his tub, is too cynical,
the sign of melancholy, and indeed the mere effect of a salt
rheum.
Crip. Who would think this gentleman's yesterday's dis-
temperature should breed such motions ? I think it be resto-
rative to activity. I never saw a gentleman caper so excellent
as he did last night.
Bow. Mean you me, sir?
Crip. Your own self, by this hand.
Bow* You gull me not ?
Crip. How, gull you ?
Methinks a man so well reputed of,
So well commended for your qualities
Tn schools of nimble activeness,
And places where divinest quiristers
Warble enchanting harmony, to such
As think there is no heaven on earth but their's :
56 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE,
And knowing yourself to be the genius
Of the spectators, and the audience" hearts,
You wrong your worthy self intolerably,
To think our words savour of flattery.
Sow. Sirrah, dog ! how didst thou like my last caper and
turn a the toe ?
Grip. Before G-od, passing well.
Ber. I know his worship made it, His so excellent.
Bow. It was my yesterday's exercise.
Crip. After the working of your purgation, was it not?
Bow. What purgation, you filthy cur?
Grip. After the purging of your brain, sir.
Bow. Be still, dog ; bark not, though by misfortune*
I was last night somewhat distempered :
I will not be upbraided ; 'twas no more
But to refine my wit \ but tell me truly
How dost thou like my caper ?
Grip. Far better than I can commend it.
Bow. Now, as I am a gentleman,
My tutor was not witting of the same,
And in my opinion twill do excellent.
this air ! here^s a most eloquious air for the memory,
1 could spend the third part of my arms in silver,
To be encountered by some good wit or other.
Crip. What say you to your sweetheart, Moll Berry ?
Bow. Peace, Cripple ! silence 5 name her not 5 I could not
endure the career of her wit for a million ; she is the only she-
Mercury under the heavens ; her wit is all spirit \ that spirit
fire 5 that fire flies from her tongue, able to burn the radix of
the best invention. In this element, she is the abstract and
brief of all the eloquence since the incarnation of Tully. I
tell thee, Cripple, 'I had rather encounter Hercules with blows,
than Moll Berry with words. And yet, by this light, I am
horribly in love with her.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 57
Enter MOLL BERRY.
Crip. See where she comes. excellent !
Bow. Now have I no more blood than a bulrush.
JBer. How now, what ail you, sir ?
Crip. What's the matter, man ?
Sow. See, see, that glorious angel doth approach ! What
shall I do ?
Crip. She is a saint indeed ! Zounds ! to her ; court her 5
win her 5 wear her; wed her; and bed her too.
Sow. I would it were come to that. I win her ! By
heaven, I am not furnished of a courting phrase, to throw at a
dog.
Crip. Why no ; but at a woman you have. O, sir ! seem
not so doltish now : can you make no fustian ? ask her if shell
take a pipe of tobacco.
Sow. It will offend her judgment. Pardon me.
Crip. But hear you, sir ! reading so much as you have done,
Do you not remember one pretty phrase,
To scale the walls of a feir wench's love ?
Sow. I never read anything but "Venus and Adonis."
Crip. Why, that's the very quintessence of love.
If you remember but a verse or two,
I'll pawn my head, goods, lands and all, 'twill do.
Sow. Why then, have at her !
" Fondling, I say, since I have hemm'd thee here,
Within the circle of this ivory pale,
I'll be a park"
Moll. Hands off, fond sir !
Bow. " and thou shalt be my deer.
Feed thou on me, and I will feed on thee ;
And Love shall feed us both."
MolL Feed you on woodcocks ; I can fost awhile.
Bow. " Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed."
Crip. Take heed, she's not on horseback.
58 THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Bow. Why, then she is alighted.
" dome, sit thee down, where never serpent hisses 5
And, being set, Til smother thee with kisses. 1 "
Moll. Why, is your breath so hot ! now G-od forbid
I should buy kisses to be smothered !
Bow. Mean you me ? you gull me not !
Moll. No, no, poor Bowdler, thou dost gull thyself.
(Aside). Thus must I do to shadow the hid fire,
That in my heart doth burn with hot desire :
Oh, I do love him well, whatever I say,
Yet will I not myself self-love bewray.
If he be wise, he'll sue with good take-heed.
Bowdler, do so ; and thou art sure to speed.
I will fly hence to make his love the stronger,
Tho' my affection must lie hid the longer.
(Aloud). What, Master Bowdler, not a word to say ?
Bow. No, by my troth ; if you stay here all day.
Moll. Why, then, Til bear the bucklers hence away.
[JEW*.
Crip. What, Master Bowdler, have you let her pass un-
conquered!
Bow. Why, what could I do more ? I looked upon her with
judgment \ the strings of my tongue were well in tune 5 my
embraces were in good measure ; my palm of a good constitu-
tion 5 only the phrase was not moving 5 as, for example, Venus
herself, with all her skill, could not win Adonis with the same
words. heavens ! was I so fond thon to think that I could
conquer Moll Borry ? Oh, the natural fluenco of my own wit
had been far better ! Good ev^n, good fellow !
Enter FIDDLE.
Fid. G-od give you the time of day ! Pardon mo, gallants,
I was so near the middle that I knew not which hand to tako.
Bow. A very good conceit.
Fid. And yet, because I will be sure to give you a true
THE PAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 59
salutation, Cripple, quomodo vales? Good morrow, Cripple;
good morrow, Master Bernard ; Master Bowdler, bonos noches^
as they say, good night ! and thus you have heard my manner
of salutation.
Crip. You are very eloquent, sir ; but, Fiddle, what's the
best news abroad ?
Fid. The best knews I know not, sir ; but the newest news
is most excellent, i'faith !
Ber. Prithee, let's hear it.
Fid. Why, this it is : the Serjeants are watching to arrest
you at Master Berry's suit.
Ber. Wounds, where ?
Fid. Nay, I know not where. Alas, sir, there is no such
matter. I did but say so much, to make you warm the handle
of your rapier . But, Master Bowdler, I have good news for
you.
Bow. Let me hear it, my sweet russeting.
Fid. How, russeting ?
Bow. Ay, my little apple-john.
Fid. You are a
Bow. A what?
Fid. You are a Oh, that I could speak for indigna-
tion !
Bow. Nay, what am I ?
Fid. You are a pippin-monger, to call me russeting, or
apple-john.
Bow. Sirrah Russeting ! I'll have your head off.
Fid. You pippinmonger, Til cut off your legs, and make
you travel so near the mother earth, that every boy shall be
high enough to steal apples out of thy basket. Call me Rus-
seting !
Grip. Nay, be friends, be friends.
Fid. As I -am a gentleman, Cripple, I meant him no harm;
but the name of Russeting to Master Fiddle, that many times
travels under the arm in velvet, but for the most part in lea-
60 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
ther trussed with calf-skin points, 'tis most tolerable, and not
to be endured. Flesh and blood cannot bear it.
Crip. Come, come, all shall be well.
Bow. Fiddle, give me thy hand. A plague on thee, thou
knowest well I love thee.
Fid. Say you so ? why, then, Anger, avoid the room ! Me-
lancholy, march away ! Oholer, to the next chamber ! and
here's my hand. I am yours to command, from this time,
forth, your very mortal friend, and loving enemy, Master Fiddle.
Bow. Now, tell us what is the news you had for me 1
Fid. Oh, the sweet news ! "faith, sir, this it is, that I was sent
to the Cripple from my young mistress. Master Cripple, you
know I have spent some time in idle words, therefore, be you
compendious, and tell me if my mistress' handkcrcher be done
or no.
Grip. Fiddle, 'tis done, and here it is. Commend mo to
thy mistress.
Fid. After the most humble manner, I will $ and so, gentle-
men, I commit you all : you, Cripple, to your shop $ you, sir,
to a turn-up, and dish of capers ; and lastly, you, master Ber-
nard, to the tuition of the Counter-keeper. There's an item
for you 5 and so, farewell ! [E&it.
Crip. Master Bowdler, how do you like his humour ?
Bow. By this light, I had not thought the clod had had so
nimble a spirit. But, Cripple, farewell ! I'll to Moll Berry.
Come, Bernard, along with me.
Crip. Farewell, sweet signiors both, farewell, farewell !
[Exeunt.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
Master FLOWER'S House. Enter Mast&r FLOWER at one door,
reading a, letter from FERDINAND : at the other^ Mrs. FLOWER,
with a letter from ANTHONY.
Flow. The conceit is good. Ferdinand entreats a marriage
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 61
with my daughter. Good, very good ! for he is a gentleman
of good carriage, a wise man, a rich man, a careM man ; and
therefore worthy of my daughter's love. It shall be so.
Mrs. F. Marry, and shall, kind gentleman. My further-
ance, saist thou? Yes, Anthony, assure thyself 5 for, by the
motherly care that I bear to iny daughter, it hath been a
desire that long hath lodged within my careful breast, to
match her with thy well-deserving self \ and to this end have
I sent for my daughter, and charged my servants, that pre-
sently, upon her repair hither from her mistress's, that she
enter this private walk, where and with whom I will so work,
that, doubt it not, dear son, but she shall be thine.
Flow. And I will make her jointure of a hundred pounds by
year. It is a very good conceit, and why ? because the worthy
portion betters my conceit, which, being good, in conceiving
well of the gentleman's good parts, the proffered jointure adds
to my conceit, and betters it. Very good.
Mrs. F. A thousand crowns for you to make the match !
Pretty heart, how love can work ! By God's blest mother, I
vow she shall be thine ! if I have any interest in my daughter.
(Flower smiles at reading his letter, and they snatch the letters
from each other.) p;But stay, whom have I espied? my husband
likewise reading of a letter, and in so good a humour ! I'll
lay my life, good gentleman, he hath also wrought with him
for his good will ; and for I long to know the truth thereof,
my sudden purpose shall experience it. What's here, hus-
band ? (Meads to herself > and frowns.) A letter from Master
Ferdinand to entreat a marriage with your daughter ?
Flow. And here the like to you from Anthony to that
effect. This is no good conceit. If she be mine, she shall bo
Ferdinand's.
Mrs. F. If she respect her mother's favour,
'Tie Anthonjr shall be her love.
Flow. How, wife!
Mrs. JR Even so, husband.
62 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Flow. You will not cross my purpose, will you ?
Mrs. F. In this you shall not bridle me, I swear.
Flow. Is she not my daughter ?
Mrs. F. You teach me, husband, what your wife should
say.
I think her life is dearest unto me,
Though you forget the long extremity
And pains which I endured, when forth this womb,
With much ado, she did enjoy the life
She now doth breathe : and shall 1 now suffer
Her destruction ?
Flow. Yea, but conceit me, wife.
Mrs. F. A fig for your conceits. In this I know there can
be none. Say he be his father's eldest son, and a merchant of
good wealth,
Yet, my dear Anthony's as rich as he :
What, though his portion was but small at first,
His industry hath now increased his talent 5
And he that knoweth the getting of a penny,
Will fear to spend. She shall have him, if any.
Flow. By the Mary Q-od, wife, you vex me.
Mrs. F. 'Tis your own impatience, you may chuse.
Flow. I will not wed my daughter to that Anthony.
Mrs. F. By this
Flow. Hold, wife, hold ; I advise thee swear not,
For, by him that made me, first I vow,
She shall not touch the bed of Anthony.
Mrs. F. And may I never live, (so Q-od me help,)
If ever she be wed to Ferdinand.
Flow. The devil's in this woman \ how she thwarts me
still! .
Mrs. F. Fret on, good husband ; I will have my will.
Flow. But, conceit me, wife : suppose we should consent
our daughter should wed either of them both, and she dislike
the match, were that a good conceit ?
THE FAIR MATD OF THE EXCHANGE. 63
Mrs. F. All n s one for that. I know my daughter's mind,
If I but say the word.
Flwo. I would be loath to wed her 'gainst her will.
Content thee, wife ; well hear her resolution.
And as I find her, to her own content
To either of them, she shall have my consent.
Mrs. F. Why, now old Flower speaketh like himself,
Flow. Agreed, and 'faith, wife, tis a good conceit.
Enter PHILLIS.
And see where my daughter couies ! Welcome, girl !
How doth your mistress, Phillis ? God bless thee, Phillis !
Rise.
Phil. God have the glory, in perfect health she is,
Flow. 'Tis good \ I am glad she doth so well.
But list, my daughter 1 I have golden news
To impart unto thee.
A golden Goulding, wench, must be thy husband.
Is't not a good conceit ?
Phil. Father, I understand you not.
Flow. Then, my girl, thy conceit is very shallow.
Master Ferdinand Goulding is in love with thee.
Mrs. F. No, daughter, His thine Anthony.
Flow. Ferdinand is rich, for he hath store of gold.
Mrs. F. Anthony is rich, yet is he not so old.
Flow. Ferdinand is virtuous, full of modesty.
Mrs. F. Anthony's more gracious, if more may be.
Flow. Ferdinand's wise. Being wise, who would not love
him?
Mrs. F. Anthony more wise. Then, girl, desire to prove
him.
Flow. In Ferdinand's all the beauty tliat may be.
Mrs. F. He is deceived. 'Tis in thine Anthony.
Phil. Dear parents, you confound me with your words.
I pray what mean these hot persuasions ?
64 THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Flow. Thy good, iny daughter.
Mrs.F. IfbutruTdby me.
Flow. But for thy ill fare
Mrs. F. If she 'tend to thee.
Flow. The truth is this, that each of us hath ta'en
A solemn vow, that thou, my loving daughter,
Shalt wed with one of these two gentlemen ;
But yet refer the choice unto thyself.
One thou shalt love. Love Ferdinand, if me.
Mrs. F. If love thy mother, love thine Anthony.
PhiL In these extremes, what shall become of me ?
I pray you give me respite to consider
How to digest these impositions :
You have imposed a. business of such weight,
Pray God your daughter may discharge herself.
Flow. Think on\ my girl $ we will withdraw awhile.
[They walk aside.
PhiL A little respite fits my resolution.
Those gentles sue too late. There is another
Of better worth, tho' not of half their wealth.
What though deformM, his virtue mends that 'miss ;
What though not rich, his wit doth better gold ;
And my estate shall add unto his wants.
I am resolVd, good father and dear mother ;
Phillis doth chuse a cripple, and none other.
But yet I must dissemble.
Mow. How now, my soul's best hope ! tell me, my girl,
Shall Ferdinand be he 2
Phil. I pray a word in private.
Flew. Marry, with all my heart.
Phil. In all the duty that a child can show
The love that to a father it doth owe,
I yield myself to be at your command,
And vow to wed no man but Ferdinand.
But, if you please, at your departure hence,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 65
You may inforce dislike to cloud your brow,
T'avoid ray mother's anger and suspicion.
Flow. Before God, a very good conceit !
(Aloud). Hence, baggage, out of my sight !
Come not within my doors, thou had'st been better
Run millions of miles barefooted, than
Thus by your coy disdain to have deluded me,
{Aside). Oh ! mine own flesh and blood, the mirror of wit !
(Aloud). Now will I hence ; and, with all the speed I may,
Send for my son. Til have it done this day. [Exit.
Mrs. F. What, is he gone ? and in so hot a chafe !
Well, let him go, I need not question why ;
For well I wot, his suit is cold : 'tmust die-
Daughter, I gather by thy pleasant smiles,
Thy mother hath more interest in thy love,
Than discontented Flower, thy aged father.
Phil. Mother, you have ; for when I well consider
A mother's care unto her dear-bought child,
How tenderly you nursM and brought me up,
I could not be so much unnatural,
As to refuse the love you proffer me,
Especially being for my chiefest good.
Therefore when married I intend to be,
My loyal husband shall be Anthony.
Mrs. F. Live ever, then, my dear, dear daughter Phillis !
Let me embrace thee in a mother's arms.
Thus, thus, and thus, I'll ever hug my daughter.
Him hence thou send'st with frowns: me hence with
laughter,
dome, Phillis, let us in ! [Exit.
Phil. Forsooth, III follow you.
Am not I a good child, think you!
To play with both hands thus against my parents ?
Well, 'tis but a trick of youth. Say what they will,
IT1 love the Cripple, and will hate them still. {Exit.
66 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
SCENE IT.
The Exchange. Before the CRIPPLE'S shop. Enter CRIPPLE,
and to him FRANK.
Frank. Mirrour of kindness, extremity's best friend 5
While I breathe, sweet blood, I am thine.
Intreat me, nay, command thy Francis' heart,
[Thou] that wilt not suffer my ensuing smart.
Crip. Sweet signior, my advice in the reservation of those
letters,
Which I will have you hide from eye of day,
Never to feel the warmth of Phoebus' beams,
Till my self's care, most careful of your weal,
Summon those lines unto the bar of joy.
Frank. I will not err, dear friend, in this command.
Crip. So much for that : now listen further, Frank.
Not yet two hours' expiration
Have taken final end, since Beauty's pride
And Nature's better part of workmanship,
Beauteous Phillis, was with me consorted,
Where she, 'mongst other pleasing conference,
Burst into terms of sweet affection,
And said, ere long she would converse with me
In private at my shop ; whose wounded soul,
Struck with Love's golden arrow, lives in dread,
Till she do hear the sentence of my love,
Or be condemn'd by judgment of fell hate.
Now, since that gracious opportunity
Thus smiles on me, I will resign the same
To you, my friend, knowing my unworthy self
Too foul for such a beauty, and too base
To match in brightness with that sacred comet,
That shines, like Phoebus, in London's element,
From whence inferior stars derive their light :
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 67
Wherefore I will, immediately you take
My crooked habit ; and in that disguise
Court her, yea, win her, for she will be won :
This will I do to pleasure you, my friend.
Frank. For which my loye to thee shall never end.
Crip. About it then ! Assume this shape of mine,
Take what I have ; for all I have is thine.
[Dresses FRANK in M$ Jialit.
Supply my place, to gain thy heart's desire,
So may you quench two hearts that burn like fire.
She's kind to me ; be she as kind to you,
What admiration will there then ensue !
Frank, I will leave thee 5 now be thou fortunate 3
That we with joy your loves may consummate.
Farewell, farewell ! when I return again
I hope to find thee in a pleasing vein. [Etrit.
Frank. Farewell, dear friend [
Was ever known a finer policy ?
Now, brothers, have amongst you for a third part,
Nay, for the whole $ or, by my soul, Til lose all !
What, tho"* my father did bequeath his lands
To you, my elder brethren, the moveables, I sue for,
Were none of his ; and you shall run thro 1 fire
Before you touch one part of my desire,
Am I not like myself in this disguise !
Crooked in shape, and crooked in my thoughts J
Then am I a Cripple right. Come, wench, away i
Thy absence breeds a terror to my stay,
Enter PHILLIS.
Yonder she comes. Now frame thy hands to draw ;
A worser workman never any saw.
[Sits in the CRIPPLE'S shop, worUng.
PUL Yea, yonder sits the wonder of mine eye !
I have not been the first whom Destiny
68 THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Hath thwarted thus : imperious Love !
Either withdraw the shaft that wounds my heart,
Or grant me patience to endure my smart !
Remorseless Love I had any but thyself
Been privy to my direful passion,
How I consume and waste myself in love,
They would have been, yea, much more pitiful-
But all avails not. Demanding for my work
Shall be a means to have some conference.
Grood morrow to you ! is my handkercher done ?
Frank. Yes, mistress Flower, it is finished.
Phil. How sweetly tunes the accent of his voice !
.Oh, do not blame me, dearest Love alive !
Tho" 1 I thus doat in my affection.
I toil, I labour, and I fain would thrive,
And thrive I may, if thou woukTst give direction.
Thou art the star whereby my course is led 5
Be gracious, then, bright Sun, or I am dead !
Frank. Fair mistress Phillis, such wanton toys as these
Are for young novices that will soon be pleasM.
The careful thoughts that hammer in my brain
Bid me abandon wanton Love. 'Tis vain.
Phil. For me it is. '
Frank. Is my ungarnish'd, dark, and obscure cell
A mansion fit for all-commanding Love 1
No ! if thou wilt sport with Love,
And dally with that wanton amVous boy,
Hie thee unto the odoriferous groves.
Phil. There is no grove more pleasant unto me,
Than to be still in thy society.
Frank. There, of the choicest fragrant flowers that grow,
Thou may'st devise sweet roseat coronets,
And with the nymphs that haunt the silver streams
Learn to entice the affable young Wag ;
There shalt thou find him wandering up and down,
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 69
Till some fair Saint impale him with a crown.
Be gone, I say, and do not trouble me ;
For, to be short, I cannot fancy thee.
Phil. For, to be short, you cannot fancy me !
O, cruel word, more hateful than pale Death !
Oh, would to God, it would conclude my breath !
Frank. Forbear, forbear ! admit that I should yield,
Think you, your father would applaud your choice ?
Phil. Doubt not thereof. Or, if he do not, all's one,
So you but grant to my affection.
Frank. I am too base.
Phil. My wealth shall raise thee up.
Frank I am deformed.
Phil. Tut, I will bear with that.
Frank. Your friends'* dislike brings all this out of frame.
Phil. By humble suit, I will redress the same.
Frank. Now to employ the virtue of my shape.
Fair mistress !
If heretofore I have remorseless been,
And not esteemed your undeserved love,
Whereby, in the glass of your affection,
I see my great unkindness, forgive what's past ;
And here I proffer all the humble service
Your high-prized love doth merit at my hands,
Which I confess is more than I (unable)
Can gratify ; therefore command my toil,
My travail, yea, my life, to pleasure you.
Phil. I take thee at thy word, proud of thy service.
But yet no servant shalt thou be of mine :
I will serve thee. Command, and 111 obey.
This doth my soul more good, yea, ten times more,
Than did thy harsh denial harm before.
Let us embrace like two united friends.
Here love begins, and former hatred ends !
70 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE,
Enter FERDINAND and ANTHONY.
Ferd. Brother Anthony ! what news from Venice I
Are your ships returned ? (aside) I had rather
Hear news from PhiHis. Oh ! brother Frank,
Thy absence makes me burn in passion.
AntL Sir, I had letters from my factors there.
Some three days since \ (aside) but the return of one,
Of one poor letter, yet not answered,
Makes me stark mad. A plague upon that porter !
Damned may be he for thus deluding me I
[FEED, sees PHILLIS, and turns lack.
How now, brother f why retire you so I
Ferd. Yonder's a friend of mine acquaintance,
With whom I'd gladly have some conference ;
I pray thee stay, I will return immediately.
[Goes to PHILLIS and court* her.
Anth. Of your acquaintance ! is she so, good brother?
Only with you acquainted, and no other ?
Faith, 111 try that. Take heed, sir, what you do.
If you begin to court, I needs must woo.
[Goes to her too*
Brother, have you done?
Ferd. But two words more at most.
(To PHILUS) You have not then received any such letter?
A vengeance take the lazy messenger !
(aside). Brother, if I live, I'll quittance thoe for this.
Frank, (aside). Good words, dear brother : threatened uioii
live long.
Anth. You have done,
Ford. Yes.
Anth. Then, by your leave, brother.
You had one word j I must have another.
[Talks apart to PHILLIP
Ferd. I know our business tends to one effect.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 71
that villain Frank ! it mads my soul,
1 am so wrong"d by such a foolish boy.
Frank, (aside). That foolish boy may chance prove to be
witty.
What, and the elder brothers fools ? Oh, 'tis pity !
Anth. That villain porter hath deluded me.
Confusion guerdon his base villainy I
Fraiik. (aside). What! are you cursing too ? then we catch
no fish !
Comes there any more ? here's two knights to a dish.
Ferd. Well, since I have such opportunity,
I'll trust no longer to uncertainty.
{Courts her again, apart.
Anth. At it so hard, brother ? well, woo apace.
A while I am content to give you place.
Frank. Well, to her both ! both do the best you can 5
I fear young Frank will prove the happier man.
Phil. You have your answer. Trouble me no more.
Fer d. Yet this is worse than my suspense before ;
For then I liv'd in hope. Now hope is fled.
Anth. What, mal-content I is Ferdinand struck dead ?
Fortune be blithe, and aid the second brother !
[Talks to her apart.
Frank. Think you to have more favour than another I
To her, a God's name .' live not in suspense.
While you two strive, I needs must get the wench.
Phil. I am resolv'd ; and> sir, you know my mind.
Frank. What, you repuls'd too I Phillis is too unkind.
Phil. Here sits my love, within whose lovely breast
Lives my content, and all my pleasures rest.
And for a further confirmation,
Which to approve, even in sight of both you here present,
I give my hand, and with my hand my heart,
Myself and all to him 5 and with this ring
Til wed myself.
72 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE,
FrmL I take thy offering.
And for the gift you gave to me take this. [Gives a ring.
And let us seal affection with a kiss.
Ferd. Oh, sight intolerable !
Anth. A spectacle worse than death !
Frank. Now, gentlemen, please you draw near, and listen to
the Cripple.
[Gives them their letters^ and they stamp and storm.
Know you that letter! Sir, what say you to this?
Both. How came they to your hands ?
Frank. Sirs, a porter even of late left them with me y
To be delivered to this gentlewoman,
Antk. A plague upon this porter ! If e'er I meet him,
My rapier's point with a death's wound shall greet him.
[Exit*
Fer&. Frank, thou art a villain, fchou shalt know't ore long,
For proffering me such undeserved wrong. [Exit*
Frank. So ! vomit forth the rheum of all your spite.
These threats of your's procure me more delight.
Phil. Now, gentle love, all that I have to say
Is to entreat you seek without delay
My father's kind consent, for thou hast mine,
And, tho' he storm, yet will I still be thine.
Make trial then 5 'tis but thy labour lost
Tho' he deny thee. It requires no cost.
Frank. I will assail with expedition.
Phil. Q-od and good fortune go with thee ! Farewell f
[Exit.
Frank. Well, I will go, but not in this disguise.
Arm thee with policy, Frank. Frank must be wise !
Now, would the substance of this borrow'd shape
Were here in presence ! and see where he comes 1
Enter the CRIPPLE.
Poor in the well-fram'd limbs of Nature, but
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. *3
Rich in kindness beyond comparison !
Welcome, dear friend ! the kindest soul alive !
Here I resign thy habit back again,
Whereby I prove the happiest man that breathes.
Grip. Hast thou then, sweet blood, been fortunate ?
Frank. Hark ! I will tell thee all. [Talk apart.
Enter BOWDLER,, MOLL BERRY, and RALPH.
Ralph. Faith, sir, methinks of late you're very light.
Bow. As a feather, sweet rogue, as a feather.
Have I not good cause ? Sweet Moll ! sweet Moll !
Hath she not caus'd the same ? well, if I live, sweet wcncli !
Either by night or day, I will requite your kindness.
Frank. Now, I will take my leave, to put the same in
practice. w [Exit.
Grip. Good fortune wait on tjiee !
Bow. Moll, thou art mine, by thine own consent.
How say'st thou, Moll !
Moll. Yes, forsooth.
Ralph. I am witness, sir.
Bow. But that is not sufficient, Moll. If thou art content,
Moll, here's a rogue hard by, a friend of mine, whom I will
acquaint with our loves, and he shall be partaker of the match.
Ralph. Nay, sir, if you mean to have partners in the match,
I hope Ralph can help to serve your wife's turn as well as
another, what e'er he be. How say you, mistress ?
Moll. All's one to me, whom he pleases.
Bow. Come then, sweet Moll \ we'll to the Drawer,
There to despatch what I further intend.
Moll. And well remembered, husband.
Ralph. A forward maiden by this light ! " husband," before
the clerk hath said Amen !
Moll. He hath work of mine $ I pray forget it not.
Bow. I will not, Moll. Now, you lame rogue j where is this
74 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
maiden's work ! my wife's work, you rascal ! quick, give it
her.
Crip. Sweet signior! the sweet nymph's work is almost
finished ; but, sweet blood ! you drive me into admiration with
your latter words. Your sweet wife's work. I admire it.
Sow. Ay, ye halting rascal ! my wife's work. She's my
wife before God and Balph. How say'st thou, Moll, art thou
not?
Moll. Yea, forsooth ; and to confirm the same,
Here, in this presence, I plight my faith again.
And speak again what erst before was said,
That none but you shall have my maidenhead.
Bow. A good wench, Moll ! Tfaith, now will I to thy
father for his good will. Cripple, see you remember what is
past ; for I will call thee in question for a witness, if need
require. Farewell, cur ! farewell, dog I
[Exeunt BOWDLER and RALPH,
Crip. Adieu, fond humourist ! parenthesis of jests !
Whose humour like a needless cypher fills a room !
But now, Moll Berry ! a word or two with you.
Hast thou forgotten Bernard ? thy thoughts were bent on him.
Moll. On him, Cripple S for what ! was it for marriage 2
Crip. It was for love \ why not for marriage ? monstrous !
Were I a maid, and should be so bewitch'd,
I'd pull my eyes out that did lend me light,
Exclaim against my fortune, ban my stars,
And tear my heart, so yielding her consent
To Bowdler's love, that froth of compliment !
Moll. Cripple, you lose your time, with your fair tears
To circumvent my heart. Bowdler, I love thee j
Bernard I hate \ and thou shalt never move me.
Crip. I will. Thou dost love Bernard, and I can prove it.
Moll. That I love Bernard. By heavens ! I abhor him.
Crip. Thou lov'st him. Once again I say, tliou lov'st him 5
For all thou hast borne Bowdler still in hand.
THE PAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 75
Moll. What, wilt thou make me mad ? I say, I hate him.
Crip. I say thou Wst him. Have I not been at home.
And heard thee in thy chamber praise his person,
And say he is a proper little man,
And pray that he would be a suitor to thee ?
Have I not seen thee, in the bay window,
To sit cross-armM, take counsel of thy glass,
And prune thyself to please young Bernard's eye ?
Sometimes curling thy hair, then practising smiles,
Sometimes rubbing thy filthy butter-teeth,
Then pull the hairs from off thy beetle-brows,
Painting the veins upon thy breasts with blue 5
An hundred other tricks I saw thee use,
And all for Bernard.
Moll. For Bernard? Twas for Bowdler.
Grip. I say for Bernard.
Nay more, thou know'st I lay one night at home,
And in thy sleep, I heard thee call on Bernard
Twenty times over.
Moll. Will you be sworn I did ?
Grip. Ay, I will swear it.
And art thou not asham'd thus to be changed,
To leave the love of a kind gentleman,
To doat on Bowdler? Fie, fie, reclaim thyself!
Embrace thy Bernard ; take him for thy husband,
And save his credit, who is else undone
By thy hard father's hateful cruelty.
Moll. Cripple, if thou canst prove that ever I
Did fancy Bernard, I will love him still.
Grip. Why, I'll be sworn thou didst.
Moll. And that I doated on him in my sleep ?
Grip. I will be sworn I could not sleep all night
In the next room, thou didst so rave on him.
Moll. I cannot tell ; I may well be deceived*
I think I might affect him in my sleep $
76 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
And yet not know it. Let me look on him.
I'faith he is a pretty handsome fellow.
'Tis pity he should waste himself in prison.
Hey, ho !
Crip. What's the matter, wench 2
Moll. Cripple, I will love him.
Crip. Wilt thou, rfaith ?
Moll. Tfaith I will.
Enter two Serjeants at Mace.
Crip. Give me thy hand. A bargain ! 'tis enough.
Moll. But how shall he know I love him ?
Crip. Why thus. I will entreat the Serjeants
To go with him along unto thy father 5
And by the way I'll send young Bowdler from us,
Aad then acquaint my Bernard with thy love :
He shall accept it and avouch the same
Unto thy father. Wench, do thou the like,
And then I hope his bonds are cancelled.
Bern. Cripple, shall we have your company ?
Crip. My friends, hold here. There's money for your pains.
Walk with your prisoner but to Master Berry j
And ye shall either find sufficient bail,
Or else discharge the debt 3 or, I assure you,
We'll be your aid to guard him safe to prison.
1. Serf. Well, we are willing, sir : we are content
To show the gentleman any kind of favour.
Crip. Along, then I hark, Master Bowdler ! [Eaewit*
ACT V. SCENE I.
Master FLOWER'S House. Enter FLOWER, Mrs. FLOWER,
Master BERRY, and FIDDLE.
Flow. Welcome, good Master Berry ! is your stomach up,
sir? It is a good conceit, i'faith.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 77
Fid, It is indeed, sir.
Flow. What, Fiddle?
Fid. If his stomach be up, to go to dinner.
Flow. Fiddle, bid Master Berry welcome.
Fid. What else, master 2 with the best belly in my heart,
the sweetest strain in my music, and the worst entertainment
that may be, Fiddle bids you worship Adesdum.
Her. Thanks, Fiddle 5 and, Master Flower, I am much
beholden to your courtesy.
Mrs. F. Fiddle, I wonder that he stays so long.
Thou told^st me Anthony would follow thee.
Fid. Ay ; and he^ll be here, I warrant you.
Flow. Til tell you, sir. It is a rare conceit.
My wife would have her marry Anthony,
The younger brother, but against her mind,
I will contract her unto Ferdinand \
And I have sent for you and other friends
To witness it ; and 'tis a good conceit.
Mrs. F. Fiddle, are all things ordered well within ?
Fid. AlTs well, alPs well 5 but there wants some saflron to
colour the custards withal.
Mrs. F. Here, take my keys. Bid Susan take enough.
Flow. Fiddle, are all our guests come yet ?
Fid. Ay, sir $ and here comes one more than you looked
for. \Evit.
Enter FRANK.
Fr<mk. God save you, Master Flower. As much to you,
Master Berry.
Flow. Welcome, Master Q-oulding : y'are very welcome, sir.
"Frank. My brother Ferdinand commends him to you.
And here^s a letter to you from himself.
Flow. A letter, sir ! It is a good conceit.
Ill read it straight.
[FRANK gives (mother letter to Mrs. FLOWER.
78 THE PAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
(reads.)
Master Flower,
I am beholding to you for your kindness, and
your furtherance in my love-suit, but my mind is changed,
and I will not marry your daughter. And so farewell !
This is no good conceit. What, Ferdinand,
Delude old Flower ! make me deceive my friends !
Make my wife laugh, and triumph in her will !
What think you, Fiddle ?
Fid. Why, sir, I think it is no good conceit.
Flow. Thou say*st true, Fiddle ; ^tis a bad conceit.
But hear you, sir (Talks to FRANK apart.)
Mrs. F. (reads her letter.)
I understand by Fiddle your forwardness in my suit to
your daughter 3 but, nevertheless, I am determined to draw
back, and commit your daughter to her best fortunes, and your-
self to God. Farewell!
Why, this is like my husband^s bad conceit.
Have you o'erreach'd me, Flower, you crafty fox ?
This is your doing $ but for all your sleight,
PI! cross you, if my purpose hit aright.
Frank* Tut, tell not me, sir 5 for my credit and reputation
is as it is ; and there's an end. If I shall have her, why so.
Flow. Sir, the conceit is doubtful \ give me leave
But to consider of it by myself.
Frank. With all my heart.
Mrs. F. Master Groulding, a word, I pray, sir.
You know my daughter Phillis, do you not ?
Frank. Mistress, I do.
Mrs. F. She is a star, I tell you.
Frank. She is no less, indeed.
Mrs. F. I tell you, sir, upon the sudden now,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 79
Tliero came an odd conceit into my head
Are you a bachelor ?
Frank. I am, indeed.
Mrs. F. And are you not promised ?
Frank. Not yet, believe me.
Flow. Master Q-oulding !
Mrs. F. Well, do you hear, sir ? if you will be pleased
To wed my daughter, Phillis, you shall have her.
Frank. To wed your daughter ! why, she loves me not.
Mrs. F. All's .one for that : she will be ruPd by me.
Disdain her not because I proffer her.
I tell you, sir, merchants of great account
Have sought her love, and gentlemen of worth
Have humbly sued to me in that behalf.
To say the truth, I promised her to one,
But I am crossed and thwarted by my husband,
Who means to marry her unto another.
Now, sir, to cry but quittance for his guile,
I offer her to you. If you accept her,
I'll make her dowry richer by a pair
Of hundred pounds, than else it would have been.
Frank. Why, this is excellent ! past all compare !
Sued to to have her ! Gentle Mistress Flower,
Let me consider of it.
Mrs. F. Nay, nay 5 defer no time, if you will have her.
Ill search my coffers for another hundred.
Frank. Say I should yield, your husband will withstand it.
Mrs. F. Til have it closely done, without his knowledge.
Is it a match !
Frank. Well, well, I am content.
Mrs. F. Why, then, old Flower, 111 cross your close intent.
Flow. It shall be so ; and His a good conceit.
It shall be so, if but to cross my wife.
Hark, Master Q-oulding, the conceit doth like me.
You love my daughter 5 so methought you said.
80 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
You said, moreover, that she loves you well.
This love on both sides is a good conceit.
But are you sure, sir, that my daughter loves you !
Frank. For proof thereof, show her this ring.
Flow. A ring of her's ! "'tis well.
Frank. Ay, but conceit me \
If I had wooM her in my proper shape,
I do believe she never would have lik'd me.
Therefore, since I shall have her, give me leave
To come and court her in my borrowed shape.
Flow. With all my heart ; and 'tis a good conceit.
And here's my hand: son G-oulding, thou shalt have her.
Frank. Then, fether Flower, I rest upon your promise.
I'll leave you for a while, till I put on
My counterfeited shape, and then return. [Esrit.
Flow. Welcome, good son ! "Tis well ; by this conceit
My wife shall be prevented of her will.
I would not, for the half of all my wealth,
My cross-word wife had compassed her intent.
Now, wife !
Mrs. F. Now, husband !
How. You still maintain the suit for Anthony.
You'll have your will, and I must break my word,
Mrs. F. Jest on, old Flower. Be cross, and do thy worst.
Work the best means thou can'st, yet while I live,
I swear she never shall wed Ferdinand.
Flow. What, shall she not ?
Mrs. F. No, that she shall not.
Flow. I say, she shall.
Mrs. F. Tfaith, she shall not.
Flow. No!
Mrs. F. No.
Flow. Well, wife, I'm vexM, and by God's precious
Ber. 0, sir, be patient ! Q-entle Mistress Flower,
Cross not your husband. Let him have his will.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 81
Mrs. F. His will !
Flow. Hearest thou, wife ! be quiet ; thou knowest my
humour. Thus to be crossed, it is no good conceit.
Mrs. F. A fig for your conceit ! (aside) yet for because
I know I shall prevent him of the match
That he intends, henceforth I will dissemble.
(Aloud!). Well, Master Flower, because it shall be said,
And for [that] kind Master Berry may report
The humble loyalty I bear to you,
Such as a wife should do. unto her husband,
I am content to yield to your desires ;
Protesting, whiles I live, I never more
Will speak that Anthony may marry her.
Flow. Wife, speak'st thou with thy heart !
Mrs. F. Husband, I do.
Flow. Dost thou, indeed ?
Mrs. F. Indeed, forsooth, I do.
Flow. Then 'tis a good conceit. Ha ! ha !
I see 'tis sometimes good to look aloft.
Come hither, wife ! because thou art so humble,
Til tell thee all. I have received a letter
From Ferdinand, wherein he sends me word
He will not marry with my daughter Phillis 5
And therefore I was full determined,
To cross thy purpose, that his brother Frank
Should marry her ; and so I still intend :
What say'st thou, wife ? dost thou assent thereto !
Mrs. F. (aside). That Frank should marry her ! I have
sworn he shall ;
And since this falls so right, I'll not disclose
That I did mean so much 5 but now I'll yield,
That it may seem my true humility.
(Aloud). Husband ! because hereafter you may say,
And think me loving, loyal, and submiss,
I am content, Frank shall have my consent,
o
82 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Flow. Why now thou shew'st thyself obedient,
And thou dost please me with thy good conceit.
Enter BERNARD, MOLL, and ttw Serjeants.
Bern. By your leave, Master Flower !
Beny ! I am arrested at your suit !
Ber. And I am glad of it, with all my heart.
Hold, friends ! (to the Officers) there's somewhat more for you
to drink.
Away with him to prison !
Bern. Stay, Master Berry ; I have brought you bail.
Ber. What bail ! where is your bail ? here's none I know
Will be thy bail. Away with him to prison !
Moll. Yes, I, forsooth, father ! I'll be his bail,
Body for body. Think you I'll stay at home,
And see my husband carried to the jail I
Ber. How, thy husband ?
Moll. My husband, 1 assure you.
Father, these Serjeants both can witness it.
1. Ser. We saw them both contracted man and wife,
And therefore thought it fit to give you knowledge,
Before we carried him unto the prison.
Ber. But I'll undo this contract. On my blessing,
Daughter, come from him. He's a reprobate.
Moll. He is my husband.
Ber. But thou shalt not have him.
Moll. Faith, but I will. Bernard, speak for thyself.
Bern. Why, Master Beny, 'tis well known to you
I am a gentleman, tho' by misfortune
My ventures in the world have somewhat fail'd mo.
Say that my wealth disables my desert,
The diff'rence of our blood supplies that want.
What tho' my lands be mortgag'd, if you pleaso,
The dowry you intend to give your daughter
May well redeem them. You perhaps imagine
THE PAIR MAID OF TIJE EXCHANGE. 83
I will bo wild, but I intend it not.
What shall 1 say ? if you will give consent.
As you redeem my lands, so I my time ill-spent
Mean to redeem with frugal industry.
Til be your counsel's pupil, and submit
My follies to your will 5 mine to your wit.
Ber. What think you, Master Flower ?
Flow. Faith, Master Berry,
Bernard speaks well, and with a good conceit.
Ber. Dost thou love him, Moll 1
Moll. Yes, sir, and here protest,
Of all in London I love Bernard best.
Flow. Then, Master Berry, follow my conceit.
Cancel his bond, and let him have your daughter.
JBer. Well, Bernard, since I see my daughter loves thee,
And for I hope thou wilt be kind and loving,
Regard thy state, and turn an honest man,
Here, take my daughter. Til give thee in thy bond,
Redeem thy lands, and, if thou please me well,
Thou shalt not want ; all that I have is thine.
Bern. I am love- bound to her, to you in duty :
You conquer me with kindness, she with beauty.
1. Ser. Then, Master Berry, I think we may depart.
Ber. Ay, when you please. You see the matter ended ;
The debt's discharged, and I can ask no more,
1. Ser. Why then we take our leaves. \J3xemt Serjeants.
Flow. Now, wife, if young Frank Goulding were come back,
To sum our wish, it were a good conceit.
Enter PHILLIS.
Why, how now, Phillis ! sad ? come, tell me, wench,
Art thou resolv'd yet for to have thy husband ?
Phil. A golden Goulding ! 'tis a good conceit !
That golden Goulding is but loathsome dross ;
Nor is it gold that I so much esteem.
02
84 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Dust is the richest treasure that we have,
Nor is the beauty of the fairest one
Of higher price or value unto me,
Than is a lump of poor deformity.
Father, you know my mind, and what I said,
Which if you grant not, I will rest a maid.
Enter FIDDLE.
Flow. To die a maid ! that is no good conceit.
Fid. Master! whereas my master? here's one would couple
a brace of words with you.
Flow. With me, sir?
Fid. No, sir, with my young mistress.
Flow. What is he, knave ?
Fid. A crooked knave, sir. Tis the Cripple.
Flow. What would he have ? he hath no good conceit :
Tig he that hath bewitched my daughter's heart.
He is a knave. G-o send him packing hence.
Phil. As you respect the welfare of your child,
Dear father, let me speak with him.
Flow. Speak with him 2 No, it is no good conceit.
I know he comes to run away with thee.
Fid. Run away with her 2 well may she carry him ; but if
he run away with her, Til never trust crutch more.
Flow. Thou saist true, Fiddle ; 'tis a good conceit.
G-o call him in ! Frank Goulding, it is ho, [Exit FID.
In the lame knave^s disguise. A good conceit !
Enter FRANK.
Now, sir, what's the news with you ? you come to speak with
my daughter,
Frank. Yea, sir, about a little work I have of her's.
Flow. What work, you knave I no, thou hast some conceit
to rob me of my daughter -, but away ! I like not that con-
ceit. Out of my doors !
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 85
Phil. Unhappy Phillis, and unfortunate !
Frank. Sir, I am content. I'll not move your patience. -
Phil. Life of my living body ! if thou go,
Tho"* not alive, take me hence dead with wo.
[Swowis.
JBer. In troth, sir 5 you are to blame.
Flow. What, is she dead I it is no good conceit.
Speak to me, Phillis I 0, unhappy time .'
Sweet girl ! dear daughter ! 0, my only joy !
Speak to thy father, wench, in some conceit I
What ! not a word ?
JBer. Now may you see, what fell impatience
Begets upon such tender plants as these !
Mrs. F. Now may we see the folly of old age,
Governed by spleen and overweening rage !
Flow. Speak to me, daughter ;
And thou shalt have, what not ? covefst thou gold ?
Thou shalt not want for crowns $ * thou shalt have all.
Oh, was iny fury author of thy trance ?
Did I deny thy love's access to thee ?
Speak but one word, and thou shalt be his wife.
By heaven, thou shalt !
Phil. I take you at your word : it is no pain
To die for love, and then revive again.
JBer. Now, Master Flower, how like you this conceit ?
Hath she not over-reached you ?
Flow. My word is past $ and yet, for all my rage,
I rather chuse to fail in my conceit,
And wed thee, Phillis, to thy own content.
Here, take my daughter, Cripple ; love her well,
Be kind to her ; and I'll be kind to thee.
Thou art but poor : well, I will make thee rich :
And so God bless you with a good conceit !
Frank. I thank you. When I leave to love my wile, *
Heav'n hasten death, and take away my life !
86 THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE.
Flow. Tis well done, Frank ! I applaud thy wit,
And now I know I fail not in conceit.
Enter OBIPPPLE, FERDINAND, ANTHONY, and BOWDLEJR.
Crip. Gentlemen, sweet bloods, or brethren of familiarity !
I would speak with Phillis : shall I have audience ?
Phil. Help me, dear father, 0, help me, gentlemen !
This is some spirit ! Drive him from my sight !
Frank. Were he the devil, thou shalt not budge a foot.
Sow. Zounds, two cripples ? two dogs, two curs ! 'tis woit-
derfol!
Franft. Fear not, dear heart !
Phil. Hence, foul deformity !
Nor thou nor he shall my companion be.
If Cripples dead the living seem to haunt,
Til neither of either : therefore I say, avauut ?
Help me, father I
Frmik. Dear heart I revoke these words.
Here are no spirits, nor deformities.
I am a counterfeit Cripple now no more,
But young Frank Groulding, as I was before.
Amaze not, love ! nor seem not discontent 5
Nor thee nor him shall ever this repent.
Ferd. Master Flower, 1 come to claim your promise.
Anth. (ta Mrs. F.) I come for yourte \ your daughter 1 do
mean.
Flow. My promise ? why, sir, you refused my promise,
And sent me word so in your letter.
Mrs. F. And so did you to me \ and now 7 tis past ;
Your brother Frank hath both our free consents.
Ferd. Sir, sir, I wrote no letter.
Anth. By heaven, nor I.
Frank. But I did for you both ; I was your scribe,
The whilst you went to see your house a-fire ;
THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE. 87
And you, (as I remember), I did send,
To see your sister drowuM at London Bridge.
Ferd. Ffaith, good brother, have you o'er-reach'd us so ?
Anth. So cunningly, that none of us could know ?
Ferd. For all this cunning, I will break the match.
Anth. And so will I.
Frank. Why, brothers, she^s mine by her father's gift.
Ferd. Brother, you lie ; you got her with a shift.
Frank. I was the first that lov'd her.
Ferd. That's not so. 'Twas I.
Anth. Catch that catch can. Then, brothers both, you lie.
Flow. Yea, but conceit me, gentlemen. What, do you
mean to spoil my daughter? you claim her, and I have given
her your younger brother. This is no good conceit. Why,
how now, Phillis ? still drooping ? cheer thee, my girl 1 Seo,
a company of gentlemen are at strife for thy love ! Look up $
and in this fair assembly, make thine own choice. Chuse
where thou wilt, and use thine own conceit.
Phil. But will my father then applaud my choice I
Flow. I will.
Phil. And will these worthy gentlemen be pleas'd,
However my dislike or liking prove ?
All We will.
PhiL I must confess you all have taken pains,
And I can give but all for that pains taken ;
And all my all is but a little love 5
And of a little who can make division ?
I would I knew what would content you all !
Ferd. Thy love.
Anth. Thy life and love.
Frank. Thy life, thy love, thyself, and all for me ;
For if I want but one, I then want thee.
Phil. If then I give what either of you crave,
Though not what you desire, will it suffice I
Ferd. I wish but love.
88 THE FAIR MAID OP THE EXCHANGE.
Phil. And, as a friend, you have it.
Anth. I, life and love.
Phil. And, as your friend, I vow
To love you whilst I live, as I do now.
Frank. I ask but all, for I deserve no more.
Phil. And thon shalt have thy wish. Take all my store,
My love, my self.
Frank, By heav'n, I ask no more.
Brothers, have done ! and, dad, to end all strife,
Come, take her hand, and give her for my wife.
Flow. With all my heart, and 'tis a good conceit.
Bow. Gentlemen, patience is your fairest play.
Ferd. Impatience pulls me hence ; for this disdain,
I am resolved never to love again. [Emt.
Anth. Stay, brother Ferdinand 5 I'll follow thee.
Farewell, all love ! 'tis full of treachery. [Exit.
Bow. By heavens, Frank, I do commend thy wit ;
Come, Moll, shall thou and I ask blessing too, for company ?
Moll. You and I, sir ? alas ! we are not playfellows, though
we be turtles. I am provided.
Sow. Provided ! why, am not I thy Menelaus !
MolL Ay> sir, but this is my Paris. I am reaolVd ;
And what I do is by authority.
Bow. Is it even so ? is Helen stoFn by Paris ?
Then thus, in arms, will Menelaus mourn,
Till Troy be sacked, and Helena return. [Exit.
Enter Matter WOOD and Officers.
Wood. This is the man. Officers, attach him upon felony !
Off. Master Flower, I arrest you upon felony, and charge
you to obey.
Flow. Arrest me upon felony ! at whose suit !
Wood. Sir, at mine. Where had you that diamond on
your finger? It was stolen from me, and many other jewels, to
the value of an hundred pound.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 89
Flow. This is no good conceit. Hath Captain Backet
Bandied old Flower to such an exigent ?
I hope my credit somewhat will assist me.
"Well, whither must I go ?
Wood. Straight to the bench, where now the Judges are,
To give you speedy trial.
Flow. Words hero are little worth. Wife, friends, and all,
Go with mo to my trial. You shall soe
A good conceit now brought to infamy. \Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
NOTES.
Page 3, line 7, Mall Berry.] In the days when this play was written,
all words of one syllabic, written with an a, had the broad pronunciation
which we now give to those spelt with an o; a custom still retained in
Scotland and the North of England. We of the Sonth also preserve
this pronunciation in this abbreviation of the name Mary ; but, if I had
not, in the following play, altered the orthography to Moll, the modern
reader would have scarcely recognized the word.
Page 5, line 8, quothernicke.] From cothurnus, the buskin.
Page 5, line 10, pamping.] I have not met with this word elsewhere.
Quaere, pimping ?
Page 7, line 23. Who recks the tree.] Both the editions of 1607 and
1637 read " who wreakes the tree." SeeDyce's Eemarks on Collier's
and Knight's Shakespeares, p. 163.
Page 13, line 7. Away, you want wit.] The edition 1607 has a
hyphen between the two last words.
Page 19, line 1. Pll have one venny with her tongue.] *' A sweet
touch, a quick venny of wit; snip, snap, quick and home." Love's
Labour's Lost, act v., scene 1. See Douce's Illustrations of Shake-
speare, vol. 1., p. 233.
Page 19, line 20. Yonder wad of groans.] A wad is a bun^.
Page 22, line 9. The sign of the Maidenhead Inn.] Both the old
copies read ** the sign of the Maidenhead in, &c."
Page 22, lino 10. What's her hair? faith, to Bandora wires, there's
not the like simile.] A baoidora was a guitar (Hawkins's History of
92 NOTES.
Music, iii., 345) ; and, however strange this similitude may now seem,
ladies' hairs were often colled wires by the poets of these times.
"Her hair not truss'd, but scattered on her brow,
Surpassing Hybla's honey for the view,
Or soften'd golden wires."
Lodge, in England's Parnassus.
"Come, sweet Muses, leave your singinge,
Let your hands your hands be wringinge,
Tear your haires of golden wyers,
Sith you lost your whole desires.'*
HalliweWs Miscel temp.) Jac* i.. p. 41.
"I do not love thee for that fair
Rich fan of thy most curious hair,
Tho' the wires thereof be drawn
Finer than the threads of lawn."j
Carew.
The transition was easy from the universal poetical epithet golden hairs
to golden wires 5 but in two contemporary plays, we find that not only
metal wires were used in dressing ladies' hair, but that the ladies them-
selves were called City-wires. See GrifFord's Jonson, iii., 342, and Dyce's
Beaumont and Fletcher, i., 233. In both these places, city-wires would
make better sense; and I am convinced that in Mr. Dyce's quotation,
wires is a mere error of the press for wives. I should have thought the
same in Mr. Gifford's passage too, but that there, the word ought to
rhyme to Squires.
Page 22, line 27. Shall I defy hatbands, &c.] Frank has given us
this description of a lover's habits before. It consists in a general indif-
ference to the ligatures of dress, and an exchange of the foppery of neck-
ruffs for the plainness of falling bands, such as divines, lawyers, and
charity-boys now wear. Ruffian is a poor pun. There is a good deal
of humour in " Shoe-strings so-and-so !" As if Frank had exhausted
the eloquence of his passion.
"The hatband" (says Mr. Dilke 1 ) "was a very distinguishing feature
of the nobility and gentry of those times ; on the adornment of which
comparatively large sums were expended."
1 Old Eng. Plays, vol. ii., p. 129.
NOTES, 93
" Sir Fastidious Brisk. He again lights me here I had on a gold
cable hatband, then new come up, which I wore about a murrey French
hat I had cuts my hatband, and yet it was massy goldsmith's work."
Every Man out of his Humour, act iv., scene 4.
Mr. Gifford has no note on this passage.
" Laverdure. Set my richest gloves, garters, hats, just in the way of
their eyes." Marston's What you will, act ii., scene 1.
" Garters and roses, fourscore pounds a pair."
The Devil is an Ass, act L, scene 1.
And see Cunningham's Bich's Honestie of this Age, page 66.
Page 23, line 5. The night hath play'd the swift-foot runaway.]
This line and that in the Merchant of Venice,
"For the close night doth play the runaway,"
impress me with the conviction that, in the following passage in Romeo
and Juliet, the Night is the Bunaway, and the Stars are his Eyes, which
Juliet hopes will wink on this occasion,
" for night hath many eyes,
Whereof though most do sleep, yet some are spies: "
JOMOH'S Sejanus*
* 6 Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing Night!
That runaway's eyes may wink, and Borneo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen !
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties ; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civil Night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, &c.
Come night, come Borneo, come thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night,
Whiter than snow upon a raven's back.
Come, gentle Night! come, loving, black-brow'd Night,
Give me my Borneo : and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars," &c.
Still harping on the Bunaway Night's eyes. In another passage, which
94* NOTES.
I cannot immediately refer to, Shakespeare also has attributed winking
to the stars:
" the stars do wink,
As 'twere with over- watching."
And in the Midsummer Night's Dream, act iii., scene ii., the stars are
called the eyes of night. To cryptogamists the night is always short.
On a preceding occasion, in the company of Romeo, Juliet had found the
night a runaway. On the coming opportunity, the whole scene is full of
her complaints of the swiftness of night.
The Rev. N. J. Halpin, in a most ingenious and poetical essay, in thb
second volume of the Shakespeare Society's Papers, has endeavoured to
prove that Cupid is the Runaway here alluded to. But he has not shown
(as he asserts) that Runaway was a common pet name for Cupid. He has
only proved that Cupid is called so in two Masques, in both of which it was
part of the plot that Cupid should be a runaway, which it was not neces-
sary he should be in Juliet's mind, even if we admit to Mr. Halpin that
she knew that Cupid was always poetically treated as an absentee at
hymeneals. Would Shakespeare have left his meaning to the mercy of
the explanation, which two passages from other dramatists might afford,
neither of which was written when he produced Romeo and Juliet ? If
it had not been for the discovery of these two passages, where would have
been the poet's meaning and the commentator's argument P Mr. Halpin
says, that unless Cupid is the Runaway, the words " Or if Love be
blind " have no relation to the matter. To this I reply, that love is
here confounded with lovers: lovers can see by their own light; or if
they are blind, no matter. Look at the rest of Juliet's speech. It all
runs upon the coming of Night and Romeo. She is not thinking of the
heathen mythology, or of epithalamies, which it is not probable a girl
of thirteen, even in Shakespeare's days, can have assisted at or witnessed,
as Mr. Halpin would make us believe. Her poetry is all the outpouring
of her own young, luxuriant, and undisciplined fancy. Shakespeare
employs such invocations as this, in other passages besides hymeneal
ones, as, for instance, in Macbeth
"Come, seeling Night!
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful Day 1"
Macbeth, act iii., scene 2.
NOTES. 95
Mr* Halpin's speculations are altogether too refined.
" Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop,
Than when we soar."
The Runaway is the night, and nothing more. In Hayward's British
Muse, 1738, 1 find the passage quoted :
" That iK runaway's eyes may wink."
The following elegant poem by Thomas Stanley, 1651, has much analogy
with Juliet's speech :
A DIALOGUE.
Chariessa. What if Night
Should betray us, and reveal
To the light
All the pleasures that we steal?
Philocharis. Fairest, we
Safely may this fear despise ;
How can She
See our actions who wants eyes ?
Chariessa. Each dim star
And the clearer lights, we know,
Night's eyes are ;
They were blind that thought her so !
Chorus. Then whilst these black shades conceal us,
We will scorn
Th' envious Morn,'"
And the Sun that would reveal us.
Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray,
And night, with these joys erown'd, outshine the day.
Page 23, line 13. Well, Crowd, what say you to Kddle now?] It
is well known that a Crowd is a Fiddle.
Page 24, line 6. The Star in Cheap.] The edition of 1637 has
" Cheapside," which fixes the time when the place began to be called so.
Page 24, line 23, Sir Lawrence Lyre was my father.] Both the ori-
ginal editions have Syro, which must be a misprint.
Page 26, line 12. What, sirrah ! didst thou lie in the Knight's ward, or
on the Master's side? Neither, neither, i'faith. Where then, in the
Hole ?] Three different departments of a prison, in which debtors were
confined, according to their ability to pay for their accommodations : all
96 NOTES.
three are described by Fennor in the Compter's Commonwealth^ 1617.
So in The Miseries of Inforced Marriage, Dodsley, v. 43 "I was
inforced from the Mitre in Bread-street, to the Counter in the Poultry;
for mine own part, if you shall think it meet, and that it shall accord
with the state of gentry, to submit myself from the feather-bed in the
master's side, or the flock-bed in the knight's ward, to the straw-bed in
the hole, I shall buckle to my heels, instead of gilt spurs, the armour of
patience, and do't."
Page 26, line 18. My crutch you mean, for wearing out my clothes.]
You mean, stuff the top of my crutch, lest it should wear my clothes out.
Page 27, line 2. Ill board her, i'faith.] Mr. Gifford says "there
are three different words, to boord, to accost, to bourd, to jest, and to
bond) to pout, which old authors never confound, but which commcn-
tors perpetually do." This is too absolutely stated, but there is no doubt
that to boord or board meant to accost, as Sir Toby well explains : "accost
is front her, boord her, woo her, assail her." It is from the French aborder.
Page 28, line 10. That your shilling proved but a harper.'} Id est,
an Irish shilling, worth only ninepence. See Dyce's Webster, ii., 295.
Page 29, line 6. At a wedding in Gracious Street.] I have left
this word as it is ; for our modern corruption of what was at first Grass-
church street (from the grass-market there) is no better than this; and
the sound will always be the same.
Page 29, line 13.] Than are now cap'ring in that bride-ale house.]
A Mde-ak was a bridal-feast ; a church-ale a church-feast. For the
latter see Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, b. iv., c. 3., s. 30. In the same
work, a bride-ale is erroneously called a bridal
Page 30, line 30. Licentious prodigals, vile tavern-tracers.] The
originals, here and elsewhere, have vild, which was the corrupted word
of the times,- but I see no reason for retaining it. I have not before
met with an instance of " tavern-tracers"
Page 31, line 12. Thou shouldst have raised
The forfeit of his bond.] This is the reading of
the edition of 1637. That of 1607 has, with a colon
thou should'st have railed :
The forfeit of his bond*
Page 32, line 6. Why then attend, you hills and dales, and stones so
quick of hearing.] This sounds very like two lines of an old song.
NOTES. 97
Page 33, line 6. I should be now devising sentences
And caveats for posterity, to carve
Upon the inside of the Counter-wall.] Sentences
are sententious maxims, and caveats are cautions to posterity against
running into debt, or becoming surety; such as imprisoned debtors
scribble on their walls.
Page 34, line 6. At length impaTd Love with a laurel-wreath.]
And at page 69, line 1,
" Till some fair saint impale him with a crown."
And so 3 King Henry VI., iii., 2.
"Until my misshaped trunk, that bears this head,
Be round impaled with a glorious crown."
Page 36, line 9. "far off, and ne'er the near."] The proverb is
Early up, and never the nearer; but in old plays it is generally printed,
" ne'er the near," whether for verse or for prose. Our forefathers often
slurred the letter r. They called it the dog's letter. " Ne'er the near "
made a better jingle : for I have no doubt that both words were then pro-
nounced exactly alike. See King Richard II. , act v., sc. 1 ., var. edd :
"Better far off, than, near, be near the near[er]."
It was to avoid the r that more was called mo.
Page 37, line 15. Will I write down in bloody characters.] That
is, in letters written with his own blood, as extravagant lovers used
to do.
Page 40, line 6. Ask for a burthen.] An employment, a task.
Page 45, line 26. Marry, gip, minx I] Marry is a corruption of
Mary ; and gip, Mr. !Nares thinks, of go-up ; and he quotes 2 Kings,
ii., 23. Our comedies still say, Marry, come up !
Page 48, line 9. Which to approve, follow me but in all.] Which to
prove, follow me only in all things.
Page 50, line 10. In the next room, with a calves head and brim-
stone.] " In the next room," means in the next place, or seat. A
calves head and brimstone is a dish I am unacquainted with.
Page 50, line 18. And more by much more than the most of them.]
This line sounds very like nonsense.
Page 50, line 27. Th' occurrents of this practice, as they grow.] The
occurrences of this trick, as they arise.
Page 53, line 17. And the short and the long boy is, &c.] The word
II
98 NOTES.
boy is not printed as a vocative case, and if it be used so, it would seem
to be a strange familiarity.
Page 53, line 28. I will intimate her mother.] This is a very unusual
sense of the word to intimate; but it is countenanced by the following
passage from the Faerie Queene, book vi., canto 3, stanza 12
" So both conspiring gan to intimate
Each other's griefe with zeale affectionate."
Page 57.] With the exception of
"Peed thou on me, and I will feed on thee,
And Love shall feed us both,"
all these quotations are from Shakespeare's exquisite young man's poem,
Venus and Adonis. They show how popular it was.
Page 58, line 18. PI! bear the bucklers hence away.] Clypeum ab-
jicere was the Koman phrase for to yield.
" A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so I
pray thee call Beatrice : I give thee the bucklers." Much Ado^ v. 2.
To bear them away is therefore to conquer.
" Play an honest part, and bear away the bucklers."
BEN JONSON, Case is alter' d\ ii., 4.
Mr. Gilford has no note on this passage.
Page 60, line 1. "Us most tolerable and not to bo endured.] An
obvious plagiarism from Shakespeare's Dogberry. Piddle "has two
gowns and every thing handsome about him," with many other points of
resemblance to Dogberry. The edition of 1637 corrects this happy
slip-slop to intolerable. This echo proves the long popularity of Much
ado about Nothing^ which was first published seven years before our
play. " I am horribly in love with her," Bowdler's speech just before,
is the same as Benedick's in Shakespeare's same comedy. Both, were
newly-converted lovers, from having been scorners of the fair sex.
Page 63, line 12. Rise.] Meaning "kneel no longer." In these
days, all children, on entering their parents' presence, knelt down for
their blessing.
Page 64, line 21. His virtue mends that miss.] Miss for amiss.
So in Venus and Adonis, where Heywood had just been :
" He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss;
What follows more she murders with a kiss."
Page 66, line 16. Two hours* expiration have taken final end.] This
NOTES. 99
is something like dear Robertas "forgery of a groundless fiction." See
Lord Byron's Works.
Page 71, line 10. Here's two Knights to a dish.] Both the ori-
ginal copies have Snights, an obvious misprint. But I have never met
with this proverbial phrase before. Two knights on one horse we have
heard of.
Page 74, line [35. For all thou hast borne Bowdler still in hand.]
"Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
In hand, with hope of action."
Measure for Measure, L, 5.
"Whereat grieved
That so his sickness, age, and impotence,
Was falsely borne in hand"
Hamlet, ii., 2.
In Dr. Walter Pope's Life of Bishop Seth Ward, 1697, p. 104, is the
following passage: "My lord, I might bear you in hand, a western
phrase, signifying to delay or keep in expectation, and feed you with
promises, or at least hopes," &c.
Page 86, line 22. NOT thee nor him shall ever this repent.] I have
not altered this line, since it may be grammatically construed " This
shall never repent either thee or him."
Page 87, line 12, What, do you mean to spoil my daughter ?] Idest,
to make her the spoil of a fight.
Page 89, line 2. Hath Captain Racket
Bandied old Flower to such an exigent.] There is
a quibble in the word bandied; and an exigent is an extremity.
" These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent."
I. Hen. F/.,u.,5.
THE END.
ERRATA.
Page 25, line 5, for "night" read "right"
Page 59, line 2, for "bonos" read "buenas."
Page 66, line 8, for "in the reservation" read "is the reservation."
Page 68, line 14 for Tho' I thus doat" read Tho 1 thus I doit"
Page 69, line 20, for "undeserv'd love" read "undeserved love."
Page 92, line 21, for "wires" read "wives."
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA;
A TRAGI-COMEDT,
BY
THOMAS HEYWOOD AND WILLIAM EOWLEY.
EDITED BY
BARRON FIELD, ESQ.
Rowley had a finer genius than Massinger."
CHARLES LAMB.
LONDON:
FEINTED FOB THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
1845.
JREDBEICK 8HOBERL, JUNIOR,
PBLKTBR TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PE1NCE ALBERT,
51, RW EBT 6TEEBT, BATUAAKBT. LONCON.
COUNCIL
OF
THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
THE MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OF CONYNGHAM.
THE EARL OF POWIS.
THE EARL OF GLENGALL.
THE EARL HOWE.
THE RT. HON. LORD FRANCIS EGERTON.
THE RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE*
THE RT. HON. LORD LEIGH.
THOMAS AMYOT, ESQ., F.R.S., TREAS. S.A.
WILLIAM AYRTON, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
SIR ANDREW BARNARD, LIEUT. GEN., K.C.B.
BERIAH BOTFIELD, ESQ., M.P.
J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ., F.S.A., DIRECTOR.
BOLTON CORNEY, ESQ.
PETER CUNNINGHAM, ESQ., TREASURER.
THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
SIR HENRY ELLIS, K.H., F.R.S., F.S.A.
JOHN FORSTER, ESQ.
HENRY HALLAM, ESQ., F.R.S., V.P.S.A.
J. O. HALLIWELL, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
THE REV. WILLIAM HARNESS.
WILLIAM C. MACREADY, ESQ.
SAMUEL NAYLOR, ESQ.
T. J. PETTIGREW, ESQ., F.R.S. F.S.A.
J. R. PLANCHE, ESQ., F.S.A.
WILLIAM J. THOMS, ESQ., F.S.A.
F. GUEST TOMLINS, ESQ., SECRETARY.
EDWARD V. UTTERSON, ESQ., F.S.A.
SIR FREDERICK BEILBY WATSON, K.C.tt, F.R.S.
The Council of the Shakespeare Society desire it to be understood
that they are not answerable for any opinions or observations that
may appear in the Society's publications; the Editors of the several
works being alone responsible for the same.
INTRODUCTION.
Although this play was " acted by the Queen's ser-
vants," 1 it was not published till the year 1655, after
the death of its authors, during the Protectorate, of
Cromwell, when plays 'could only be read, not acted*
There is only that one edition, which is very badly
printed, in quarto, with all the blank verse like prose,
to save space. With the exception of the fourth scene
of the third act, it is a very good drama, full of spirit
and poetical justice. It would seem unnatural, now-a-
days, that an eldest son, for marrying a young lady
with no fortune, should by his father be not only disin-
herited; but made, together with his wife, domestic
servants to the father and younger brothers ; but in
Shakespeare's days such patriarchal tyranny could be
practised with no check from public opinion. The land
1 This gives us no clue to the date of its production, for there was a
company of players so called, both in King James's and King Charles's
times. The proclamation which is introduced in this play, running in
the Queen's name, and not the King's, the piece may have been sketched
by Heywood in Elizabeth's time.
VI INTRODUCTION.
was almost the only property : that generally went by
heirship; and younger brothers, under pretence of
having the run of the house, were virtually servants to
the heir, unless they had the spirit to go abroad, as
soldiers or sailors, or the wit to enter into one of the
learned professions.
Of William Rowley little is known, and that little
has been confused. There were two Rowleys, both
actors and authors, belonging to the Prince of Wales's
company, afterwards King Charles I. Mr. Haslewood,
in the Censuria Literaria (vol. ix. p. 49), pointed ont
that the enumeration by Meres, in his Palladis Tamia,
1598, of "Maister Rowley," among "the best poets for
comedy," related to Samuel, and not to William Rowley,
as erroneously stated in the Biographia Dramatica.
But so difficult is it to set right a confusion which once
gets into these Dictionaries, that even the editor of the
late reprint, for the Percy Society, of Rowley's " Search
for Money" has partly fallen into the error. It is
Samuel, and not William, whose name is mentioned so
often in Henslowe's papers, by whom he was engaged
as an actor before Queen Elizabeth's death. There is
also a Thomas Rowley in the " Plot of Tamar Cam,"
found among AUeyn's papers ; but he must have been a
very inferior person, as he only plays a " Negar," with
" the red-faced fellow," the last in the accompanying
list of the actors. The earliest record of William
Rowley I believe to be, as the head of the Duke of
York's (as Charles then was) servants on the 9th of
February, 1609 (1610), in Mr. Cunningham's Revels'
Accounts, p. xlii. In 1613 we find him at the head
INTRODUCTION. Tii
of the Prince's company, to which Samuel also be-
longed.
Langbaine says that " William Rowley was not only
beloved by those great men, Shakespeare, Fletcher,
and Johnson, but likewise writ, with the former, The
Birth of Merlin" This last fact is not now credited.
The only evidence of it is, that the drama is attributed
to Shakespeare and Rowley by its first publisher in
1662. This and Langbaine's testimony, in 1691, are
not sufficient authority for treating our great poet as
the author of any part of The Birth of Merlin, of
which an analysis may be seen in Mr. Knight's Supple-
mentary Volume.
Fortune
by
Land and Sea.
A
TRAGICOMEDY.
As it was Acted, with great Applause,
by the Queen's servants.
Written by
fTHO. HAYWOOD
J and
[WILLIAM EOWLY.
LONDON,
Printed for John Sweeting, at the Angel, in Pope's-
head Alley, and Robert Pollard, at the Sen
Johnson's Head, behind the Exchange.
1655.
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY.
OLD FORREST.
FRANK FORREST, "J _ .
__ . > /MS sons.
YOUNG FORREST, J
OLD HARDING.
PHILIP, Ms eldest son^ married to SUSAN FORREST.
WILLIAM, 1 7 .
_ > 7ns younger sons.
JOHN, J J y
MASTER HAINSFORD, a Quarrelsome Gentleman.
, 1
, J
A MERCHANT, brother to MBS. HARDING.
PURSER,
CLINTON,
CLOWN.
PURSUIVANT.
HOST.
SAILORS.
HANGMAN.
DRAWERS.
OFFICERS.
MRS. ANTSTE HARDING, second wife to OLD HARDING.
SUSAN, daughter of old FORREST, wife of PHILIP
HARDING.
The SCENE, London, [and on the
B 2
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
ACT I. SCENE L
Old FORREST'S Home. Enter RAINSFORD, old FORREST,
FRANK FORREST, SUSAN FORREST, Q-OODWIN, and FOSTER.
Rains. I prithee, Frank, lefs have thy company to supper.
Frank. With all my heart : if I can but give my father here
the slip by six o'clock, I will not fail.
Mains. Til talk with him. I prithee, old man, lend us thy
son to-night. Well borrow him but for some two hours, and
send him home again to thee presently.
Good. Faith, do, Mr. Forrest ; he cannot spend his time in
better company.
Old For. Oh, gentlemen, this too much liberty
Breeds many strange outrageous ills in youth,
And fashions them to vice.
Rains. Nay, school us not, old man. Some of us are too
old to learn 5 and being past whipping too, there^s no hope of
profiting. If we shall have him, say so. If not, I prithee
keep him still, and Q-od give thoo good of him !
Frank. Nay, will you be gone ? I'll be at the heels of you,
as I live.
FOB. 'Tis enough. Nay, come \ and if we shall go, let
us go.
Old For. Nay, gentlemen, do not mistake me, pray.
I love my son, but do not doat on him ;
6 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Nor is he such a darling in my eye.
That I am loath to have him from my sight.
Yet let me tell you, had you, gentlemen,
CalFd him to any fairer exercise,
As practise of known weapons, or to back
Some gallant gennet $ had it been to dance,
Leap in the fields, to wrestle, or to try
Masteries in any noble quality,
I could have spared him to you half his age $
But call him ont to drinking, of all skill,
I hold that much-us'd practise the most ill.
Fraiik. I told him you would still be urging him, and see
what comes on*t I I prce, sequar*
Rains. Sir, what we do's in love, and let you know,
We do not need his purse nor his acquaintance,
Nor, if you should mistake, can we be sorry,
Nor wound to ask your pardon. Fare ye well !
Come, gentlemen.
\J$x&Mit EAJNSFORD, GOODWIN, and FOSTER.
Frank. Will you be gone ? I'll come.
Old For. Oh, son ! that thou wilt follow rioting,
Surfeit by drinking and unseasoned hours !
These gentlemen perhaps may do't ; they're rich,
Well-lauded, and their fathers purchase daily,
Where I, Hoav*n knows, the world still frowning on rno,
Am forcM to sell and mortgage to keep you.
His brother ranks himself with the best gallants
That flourish in the kingdom : though not able
To spend with them, yet, for his virtuous parts,
He is borne out, his person wooM and sought,
And they more bound to him for his discourse,
Than he to thorn for their expense and cost.
Thy course is otherwise 5 will drinking healths,
Cups of mulPd sack, and glasses elbow deep,
Drunk in thy youth, maintain thoe iu thine age?
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 7
No, 'twill not hold out, boy.
Frank. My company hath not been to your purse so charo-e-
able. I do not spend so much.
Old For. Thou spend'st thy time,
More pretious than thy coin, consum'st thy hopes,
Thy fortunes, and thy after-expectations,
In drowning surfeits. Tell me, canst thou call
That thrift, to be in all these prodigal ?
Use thy discretion \ somewhat I divine ;
Mine is the care, the loss or profit thine* [Exit.
Susan. Brother, be ruled. My father grieves to see you
given to these boundless riots. Will you follow ?
Frank. Lead you the way, 111 after you.
Susan. 'Tis well ; he'll look for you within.
Frank. When? Can you tell!
SCENE II.
A Tavern. Enter RAINSFORD, GOODWIN, and FOSTER.
Rains. Boy, my cloak.
Enter a Drawer.
Good. Our cloaks, sirrah !
Fos. Why, drawer !
Draw. Here, sir.
Bains. Some canary sack, and tobacco.
Draw. You shall, sir. Wilt please you stay supper?
Bains. Yes, marry, will we, sir : let's have the best cheer
the kitchen yields. The pipe, sirrah !
Draw. Here, sir.
Sains. Will Frank be here at supper ?
Good. So, sir, he promised, and presumes he will not fail
his hour.
Bains. Some sack, boy ! I am all lead within, There's no
8 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
mirth in me ; nor was I wont to be so lumpish sad. Reach
me the glass. What's this ?
Draw. Good sherry sack, sir.
Bains. I meant canary, sir. What? hast no brains!
(strikes him.)
Draw. Pox o' your brains ! Are your fingers so light ?
Mains. Say, sir?
Draw. You shall have canary presently.
Good. When was he wont to be in this sad strain ?
Excepting some few sudden melancholies, there lives not one
more free and sociable,
Fos. I am too well acquainted with his humour, to stir his
blood in the least distemperature. Coz, I'll bo with you here.
Ee-enter Drawer.
Sains. Do, come to me. Havo you hit upon the right
canary now ? or could your hog's head find a Spanish butt ?
A health !
Good. Were it my height, I'll pledge it.
Fos. How do you now, man ?
JRains. Well, well, exceeding well $ my melancholy sadness
steals away, and, by degrees, shrinks from my troubled heart.
Come, letfs be merry. More tobacco, boy 5 and bring in supper.
Enter FKANK.
Fos. Welcome ! welcome ! Wilt thou be here, old lad ?
Good. Or here !
"Prank. Wherefore hath Nature lent me two hands, but to
use them both at once ? My cloak I I am for you here and
here.
Fos. Bid them make haste of supper. Some discourso, to
pass away the time.
Rains. Now, Frank, how stole you from your father's anus ?
You have been schooled, no doubt : fie, fie upon't.
Ere I would live in such base servitude
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 9
To an old gray beard, "afoot, I'd hang myself.
A man cannot be merry and drink drunk.
But lie must be controlled by gravity.
For. O pardon him ! you know he is my father.
And what he doth is but paternal love.
Tho' I be wild, I am not so past reason,
His person to despise, though I his counsel
Cannot severely follow.
Rains. 'Sfoot, he's a fool.
Frank. A fool ! y*re a
Fost. Nay, gentlemen.
Frank. Yet I restrain my tongue,
Hoping you speak out of some spleenful rashness,
And no deliberate malice $ and it may be
You are sorry that a word so unreverent,
To wrong so good an aged gentleman,
Should pass you unawares.
Sains. Sorry, sir boy ! You will not take exceptions ?
Frank. Not against you with willingness, whom I have
loved so long. Yet you might think me a most dutiless and
ungracious son, to give smooth countenance unto my father's
wrong. Come, I dare swear 'twas not your malice ; and I
take it so. Let's frame some other talk. Hear, gentlemen
Rains. But hear me, boy : it seems, sir, you are angry.
Frank. Not thoroughly yet.
Sains. Then what would anger thee ?
Fratik. Nothing from you.
Rains. Of all things under heaven,
What would'st thou loathest have me do ?
Frank. I would
Not have you wrong ray reverend father, and
I hope you will not.
Sains. Thy father's an old dotard.
Frank. I could not brook this at a monarch's hands \
Much less at thine*
10 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Bains. Ay, boy ! then take you that.
[Flinffs wine in Ms face.
Frank. I was not born to brook this. [They fight.
Oh ! I am slain. (Dies.)
Good. Sweet coz, what have you done ! Shift for yourself.
Mains. Away! [Easeunt.
Enter two Drawers.
1. Draw. Stay the gentlemen: they have killed a man.
Oh, sweet Mr. Francis f One run to his father's.
2. Draw. Had not we drawers enough in the house, but
they must needs draw too ?
1. Draw. They have drawn blood of this gentleman, that I
have drawn many a quart of wine to. Oh, sweet Mr. Francis !
Hark, hark ! I hear his lather's voice below. Ten to one ho
is come to fetch him home to supper : and now he may carry
him home to his grave. See, here he comes.
Enter the Host, Old FOREST, and SUSAN.
Host. You must take comfort, sir.
Old For. Would Heaven I could 3 or that I might beg
patience.
&us. Oh, my brother !
Old For. Is he dead, is he dead, girl ?
Sits. Oh, dead sir : Frank is dead.
Old For. Alas, alas 1 my boy ! I have not the heart
To look upon his wide and gaping wounds.
Hide them, oh, hide them from me, lest those mouths
Through which his life past through do swallow mine.
Pray tell me, sir, doth this appear to you
Fearful and pitiful, to you that are
A stranger to my dead boy ?
Host. How can it otherwise?
Old For. Oh, me, most wretched of all wretched men !
If to a stranger his warm bleeding wounds
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 11
Appear so grisly and so lamentable,
How will they seem to me, who am his father ?
Will they not hale my eyeballs from their rounds,
And with an everlasting blindness strike them !
Sus. Oh, sir, look here !
Old For. Dost long to have me blind \
Then 111 behold them, since I know thy mind.
Oh, me, is this my son that doth so senseless lie,
And swims in blood ? my soul with his shall fly
Unto the land of rest. Behold I crave,
Being kilTd with grief, we both may have one grave.
Bus. Alas, niy father's dead too ! Gentle sir,
Help to retire his spirits, overtravelled
With age and sorrow.
Host. Mr. Forrest !
S-us. Father!
Old For. What says my girl ? good morrow ! what's
o'clock ?
That you are up so early ? Call up Frank.
Tell him he lies too long abed this morning.
'Was wont to call the sun up and to raise
The early lark, and mount her 'mongst the clouds.
Will he not up ! rise, rise, thou sluggish boy !
Sits. Alas ! he cannot, father.
Old For. Cannot! why?
Stis. Do you not see his bloodless colour foil ?
Old For. Perhaps he's sickly, that ho looks so pale ?
Sits. Do you not feel his pulse no motion keep I
How still he lies !
Old For. Then is he fast asleep.
Sus. Do you not see his fatal eyelid close ?
Old For. Speak softly. Hinder not his soft repose,
Sus. Oh, soo you not these purple conduits run ?
Know you those wounds ?
Old For. Oh, mo ! my mur<lor\l HUH !
12 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Enter young FORREST.
Young For. Sister !
Sus. Oh, brother, brother !
Young For. Father, how cheer you, sir ? why, you were
wont to store for others 1 comfort, that by sorrow were any way
distrost. Have you all wasted, and spared none to yourself I
Old For, Oh, son, son, son ! see, alas ! see where thy
brother lies. He dined with me to-day, was merry. Merry,
ay, that corpse was, he that lies here. See, there thy mur-
dered brother and my son was. See, dost thou not weep for
him?
Young For. I shall find time.
When you have took some comfort, Til begin
To mourn his death, and scourge the murderer's sin.
Dear father, be advis'd $ take hence his body,
And let it have a solemn funeral.
Old For. But for the murd'rer, shall not ho attend
The sentence of the law with all severity 1
Young For. Have you but patience. Should we urge the
law,
He hath such honourable friends to guard him,
We should in that but bark against the moon.
Nay, <jlo not look that way : take hence the body.
Let the law sleep : the time, ere it be long,
May offer't self to a more just revenge.
We're poor, and the world frowns on all our fortune.
With patience then bear this amongst the rest.
The Heav'ns, when they be pleas'd, may turn the wLeol
Of Fortune round, when we, that are dejected,
May be again raised to our former height.
Old Far. Oh, when saw father such a tragic sight,
And did outlive it ? never, son, ah, never
From mortal breast ran such a pretious river.
Young For. Come, father, and dear sister, join with me.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 13
Lot us all learn our sorrows to forget j
He ow'd a death, and lie hath paid that debt. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Old HARDING'S House. Enter Old HARDING, his two sons,
WILLIAM and JOHN, and Ms wife, ANNE, as newly come
from the wedding.
Old Ear. So, things are as they should be. We have
attained
The height of solace and true joy, sweet Nan.
No sooner married but a mother of this
My hopofiil issue. Cheer thy thoughts,
For what I want in youth, I will supply
In true affection 5 and what age doth scant me
In sprightly vigour,^ Til make good in wealth.
Mrs. H. Sir, you well know, I was not easily won,
And therefore not soon changed. Advisedly,
Not rashly, did I venture on your love.
My young unsettled thoughts, from their long travels,
Have late attained unto their journey's end,
And they are now at rest.
Old liar. Here they have found a harbour to retire to.
Wil. Twould become you to use my father here respec-
tively : you see how he receives you almost dowerless.
John. True, where he, out of his own abilities, might have
commanded widows richer far, ay, and perhaps each way as
beautiful.
Mrs. H. Upbraid me not. I do confess he might,
Nor was this match my seeking. Ift hath pleased
Your father, for some virtues known in me,
To grace me with his freo election,
Methinks it worse becomes you, being sons,
To blamo a father's pleasure. Howsoever,
14 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Better myself I cannot. If he thought me
Worthy his bed, I see small reason you
Should wrong me to him, that my state best know.
Old Har. Nan, I am pleas'd : they shall be satisfied $
And, boys, I tell yon, tho' you be my sons,
You much forget your duty to a mother,
Whom I hold worthy to be calFd my wife.
No more of this, I charge you.
WiL Sir, we've done.
Old Har. No child to her, can bo to mo no son.
John. I am pleased : here my spleen dies.
Suddenly fallen, as it did quickly rise.
Old Har. This is the end I aim'd at. Were my eldest
Present among us much, I had my height
Of wishes.
Enter CLOWN.
Clown. I have been there, sir.
Old Har. And foundest thou my son Philip?
Clown. When you had given him me in charge, 1 had of
him great care. I have took of him great care ; and I havo
took him napping, as you know who took his mare. I found
your son Philip, like a cock-sparrow billing. If I had staid
but a little longer, I might have taken him and his hen
treading. I know not whether it be St. Valentine's day or
no ; but I am sure they are coupled.
Old Har. How coupled, dost thou mean 5
Clown. I see them one and one, and that you know makes
two, and two makes a couple ; and they, well coupled, may in
time make a third between them. I do not think but 'tis like
to be a match.
Old Har. I vow, if e'er he match into that family,
The kindred be'rtg all beggar'd, that forc'd union
Shall make a firm divorce 'twixt him and mine.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 15
Enter PHILIP and SUSAN.
Clown. Here they are, sir, coram nobis. You will find it a
plain case, if the matter be well searched. I have spoke but
what I have seen ; and now let every one answer for them-
selves.
Old Har. What mean these hands ? }
Phil. Nothing, sir,
Save a mere interchange of hearts and souls.
Doubly made fast by vows.
Old Har. Twixt her and thee ?
Phil. So, and no otherwise.
Old Har. Yet thou hast time
To pause and to repent ; but after this,
No limit to consider ; cast her off,
Or henceforth I disclaim thee for my son.
PhiL Yet I shall ever hold you for my father.
Old Har. Then show in this thy duty : quite forsake her,
And be restored into my family.
Phil. 0, sir, she is a virgin chaste and fair,
Unto whose bed I am by oath engagM.
That power above, that heard the contract pass,
Both heard, approved, and still records the same.
Oh, sir, I am of years : oft have you wished
To see me well bestowed j and now's the time
Your wish hath took effect. It was your prayer
That Heavens would send me a good wife ; and lo !
In her they have showed their bounty.
Old Har. Thou thy baseness.
Take one that's of my choosing.
PhiL Do men use,
By others 1 hearts and eyes their wives to choose?
Old Har. Siio^s poor.
PhiL Yet virtuous.
Old Har. Virtue ! a sweet dower !
16 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Phil. Yet that, when Mammon fails, retains her power.
Old Ear. Possessed of virtue then thou need nought else.
Phil. Riches may waste by fire, by sea, by stealth,
But water, fire, nor theft can virtue waste.
When all else fails us, that alone shall last.
Old Ear. Go to Oheapside, with virtue in your purse,
And cheapen plate ; or to the shambles hie,
And see what meat with virtue you can buy.
Will virtue make the pot seeth, or the jack
Turn a spit laden ? tell me, will your landlord
At quarter-day take virtue for his rent ?
Will your wife^s virtue yield you ten in the hundred ?
A good stock would do all this. Come, come, son ;
I'll find thee a rich match 5 and turn her off.
Wil. 'Faith, do, brother. The only way to thrive is to be
ruled by my father.
John. Do you think I, being but the youngest, would marry
under the degree of a gentlewoman 5 and ^that without my
fathers consent too ?
Phil. I wish you may not ; but withal advise you,
To make a conscience how you break a vow.
And, sir, for you, with pardon, I could trace you
Even in that path in which I stand condemned.
This gentlewoman, my beauteous mother-in-law,
(Whose 'virtues I both honour and admire,
Whom in no kind I envy) I presume,
You married not for riches $ for, if so,
Where is that wealthy dower she brought along !
Being yourself example, blame me not,
To make a father my strict precedent. %
In viewing me, bear but yourself in mind,
And prove to her, as I to this like kind.
Mrs. ff. The gentleman speaks well. Pray, let me mediate
Between you a reconcilement.
Wil. Good sir, do.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 17
John. Since 'tis my mother's pleasure to take't well,
We'll be joint suitors with her.
Clown. And I, too, good master.
Old Har. The boy's inflexible, and I obdure.
He cannot be more saucy to object
That which I would not hear, than I perverse
In yielding to a knave so obstinate.
Sus. He is your son, and of your blood the first ;
Brand him not with a name so odious.
You cannot write yourself a gentleman,
But leave him of that name inheritor.
Tho' you have power to take away his means,
Deprive him both your blessing and your love,
Which methinks in a father should seem strange,
His state you may, his blood you cannot, change.
Old Har. Baited on all sides ? have I been thus long
A father and a master to direct,
To be at these years pupil'd by a girl !
A beggar ? one that all the wealth she has
Bears on her back 5 and shall I suffer this!
Whilst these, that ought to arm me with just rage,
Preach to me patience 2 I'll endure no more.
Come, leave them, sweet wife i Gentle sons, away !
[Exeunt.
Phil. I'll have thee yet, tho' all the world say nay.
[Exeunt.
Clown. Now, which of these parties shall I cleave to and
follow ? Well, now I remember myself, I'll show myself a true
citizen, and stick to the stronger side. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
The Street. Enter RAINSFORD and Young FORREST, meeting.
Young For. Pray, let me speak with you.
Rains. With me, sir ?
o
18 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Young For. With you,
Sains. Say on.
Young For. Do you not know me 1
Rains. Keep off, upon the peril of thy life.
Come not within my swortTs length, lest this arm
Prove fatal to thee, and bereave thy life,
As it hath done thy brother's.
Young For. Why now thou know'st me truly, by that
token,
That thou hast slain my brother Put up, put up !
So great a quarrel as a brother's life
Must not be made a street-brawl ; His not fit
That ev*ry prentice should, with his shop-club,
Betwixt us play the sticklers. Sheath thy sword.
Rains. Swear thon wilt act no sudden violence,
Or this sharp sword shall still be interposed
'Twixt me and thy known hatred.
Young For. Sheath thy sword.
By my religion and that interest
I have in gentry, I will not be guilty
Of any base revenge.
Rains. Say on.
Young For. Let's walk.
Trust me. Let not thy guilty soul
Be jealous of my fury. This my hand
Is curbed and governed by an honest heart,
Not by just anger. Ill not touch thee foully
For all the world. Let's walk.
Rains. Proceed.
Young For. Sir, you did kill my brother. Had it been
In fair and even encounter, tho* a child,
His death I had not questioned.
Rains. Is this all ?
Young For. He's gone. The law is past. Your life is
cleared ;
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 19
For none of all our kindred laid against
You evidence to hang you. You're a gentleman $
And pity 'twere a man of your descent
Should die a felon's death. See, sir, thus far
We have demeaned fairly, like ourselves.
But, think you, though we wink at base revenge,
A brother's death can be so soon forgot ?
Our gentry baffled, and our name disgraced ?
No : 'tmust not be 5 I am a gentleman
Well known $ and my demeanour hitherto
Hath promised somewhat. Should I swallow this,
The scandal would outlive me. Briefly then,
111 fight with you.
Hains. I am loath.
Young For. Answer directly,
Whether you dare to meet me on even terms ;
Or mark how 111 proceed.
Bairn. Say, I deny it.
Young For. Then I say thou'rt a villain, and I challenge
thee,
Where'er I meet thee next, in field or town,
Thy father's manors, or thy tenant's grange,
Saving the church, tiiere is no privilege
In all this land for thy despised life.
No guard of friends, no nightwalks, or sly stealth,
No jealous fear, which in a murderer's eye
Keeps hourly watch, shall have the privilege,
This even and balanc'd fight, body to body $
I'll kill thee be it in thy bed, at meat,
In thy wife's arms j as thou took&t my brother,
With thy back towards me, basely. Answer me.
Sains. I'll meet with thee. The hour?
Yomff For. By six to-morrow morning. 'Tis your privilege
T'appoint the place and weapon.
c 2
20 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Sains. Hounslow the place : my choice of weapon this.
[Showing Us sword.
Young Fer. I can except at neither. Fail the place,
Or suit your weapon's length. Farewell ! [Esait.
Enter GOODWIN and FOSTER.
Good. Now, cousin Eainsford.
Rains. I'll so swinge my younker.
Fos. Why, who hath raised this storm, sir ?
Rains. Wot'st thou what I
The younger Forrest parted but ev*n now,
Call'd me to question 'bout his brother's death,
And since hath challeng'd me.
Good. Challenged?
Rains. Challenged me.
Fos. Why, he's too weak for you.
Rains. Yes, I shall weak him.
My purpose is to teach the stripling sense j ']
An' you be honest gentlemen, stand but
Aloof to-morrow, and observe how I
Will swinge my youth about the field.
Good. An' please Heav'n, I'll be there.
Fos. And so will I.
Rains. He seeks his fate. And murderers, once being in,
Wade further till they drown. Sin pulls on sin.
[Exeunt.
ACT II. SCENE I.
Old HOARDING'S House. Enter Old HARDING, Mrs. HARDING,
WILLIAM, and JOHN.
WiL 'Tis true, upon my life.
Old Har. Say what thou wilt, I'll not believe it, boy.
WiL Do you believe me to be your son William ?
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 21
Old Ear. Well.
WiL Do you believe I stand here ?
Old Ear. On.
Wil. That this gentlewoman is your wife ?
Old Ear. So.
WiL That Jack Harding here is my brother?
Old Ear. Good.
WiL That I speak to you ? that you list to me ?
Do you believe anything that is to be believed?
Old Ear. What of aU this ?
WiL Then believe my brother Philip has married Mistress
Susan. I saw them in the church together, I heard them
pronounce the words together. Whether it be better, or worse,
for them, I know not, but they are in for better, and worse,
that I am sure.
Old Ear. As sure as thou art certain this is true,
So sure I'll disinherit the proud boy,
And all the magazine, that I enjoy,
Divide 'tween you, my sons.
John. Not all, father. Alas ! allow him some small legacy
to live on.
WiL If t be but a cast farm, or some poor cottage, rather
than nothing. It may be hell content himself with a little.
You know something hath some savour.
Old Ear. He that hath set me and my love at nothing,
Til leave him worth as little.
Mrs. E. Chide him you may, but yet not cast him off;
For fathers ought most chastise where they love.
Parents, as I have read, their rage should hide,
Where children fall through weakness, not through pride.
Old Ear. They are none such to me. My vow is past ;
My life may fade, but yet my will shall last.
Enter PHILIP and SUSAN.
WiL See, where the four bare legs that belong to a bed
come. I could almost pity him.
22 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Jack. And why pity him ? all the while that marriage is
the first step to our making ?
Phil. See, sir, 'tis done.
Old Ear. And thou undone.
Phil. In losing your kind favour more undone,
Than in your casual wealth,
Old Ear. By all that I enjoy
Phil. Oh, swear not ! spare that oath ; I'll credit you,
Altho' you speak but mildly.
Old Ear. So thrive I, if for this marriage,
Made in despight of me, I make thee partner
Of any substance that's accounted mine.
Phil. Not made in spight of you* Unsay that language ;
And then you chide me truly, as I live :
And tho' on earth by you disherited,
Hope to be heir to heav'n. I matched with her
In sincere love, but in no spleen to you.
Tho 1 you have sworn to give my fortunes from me,
You have not sworn to 'reave me of your love.
That let me have : let others take the land.
Old Ear. My love goes with my land j and in this mar-
riage
Thou hast lost both.
Phil. Your substance I despise ;
But, to lose that, draws rivers from my eyes.
Mrs. E. Oh, bear a soft and more relenting soul,
And look upon the virtues of your son,
This gentlewoman's birth.
Old Ear. Wife 1 wife ! if he have married her for birth,
Then let her birth maintain him.
Mrs. E. My kind sons,
Speak to your father.
Wil. Alas I mother, you hear my father hath sworn \ and
do you love him, and would make him break his oath ?
John. Engage his feoul ? that were a wife's part indeed !
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 23
Wil. As I live, I would not wish him, now lie has sworn, to
alter his mind in the least circumstance, for more than I'll speak.
Phil. I am a kinder son than you be brothers.
Have you renounced me for your son I
Old Har. I have.
John. You see he has.
Phil. You have not yet renounced me for your servant.
That title let me bear. I'll be your man,
And wear your livery ; since my poverty
Enforces me to serve, let it be you.
Wil. Grant him that, good father. When you want em-
ployment for him, I may sometimes have occasion to use him
myself.
John. A reasonable motion. You want a serving-man.
Since you must hire one on force, as good him as another.
Phil. He wants a maid too. Let him hire this woman, his
servant, not his daughter. Give us but as you would do to
strangers, we are pleased.
Wil. The motion's not amiss. Can you milk, sweetheart ?
Bus. I can.
WiL And sweep a house, serve a hog, grope a hen, feel a
duck, wash and wring ?
JSus. What I have us'd, my soft hand best can show 5
But what I can not, I'll be glad to learn.
John. A good willing mind, in troth. And can you bake
and brew ?
Sus. I shall be easily taught.
John. You had best look to it ; for as you brew, so you are
like to drink.
Old Har. Sirrah, sirrah ! Can you hold the plough, and
thresh, sow, reap, load a cart, drive a team ?
Phil. These, or what else, 111 practise.
Old Har. Gome, then, off with these gay clothes, no habits
fit for hinds. Help, boys, to suit them as their fortunes are.
Go, search in the clown's wardrobe.
24 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Wil. Fear not. Well fit 'em a^ well as if we had ta'en
measure of 'em.
Mrs. H. To see this misery with patience borne,
Makes me to pity where these others scorn,
John. Here, sir, is that will serve the turn. If you employ
him in the corn-fields, Til warrant him fright the birds. Here's
that will make him look like a scarecrow.
WiL And here's that will change the copy of her case,
though not of her countenance.
Old Har. Too good for drudges. Live now by your sweat,
And at your labour make account to eat.
PML Here's but a sorry wedding-day !
Sw. My sweet Philip,
That thou should'st suffer these extremes for me,
Only for me !
PML Let that, betwixt my soul
And thine, be witness of my constant love.
Alas, for thee 1 that thou must drudge and toil,
And, having been a mistress all thy life,
Must now become a servant !
Enter CLOWN.
Clown. This being the wedding-day of my masters eldest
SOB, I expect rare cheer ; as, first, the great spiced cake
to go in, cake-bread fashion, drawn out with currants : the
jealous furmety must put on his yellow hose again, and
hot pies come mincing after : the boiled mutton must swim
in a river of stewed broth, where the channel is made
of prunes, instead of pebbles, and prime rafsins and cur-
rants in the stead of checker-stones and gravel ; to omit geeso
and gulls, ducks and dotterels, widgeons and woodcocks, of
which there will be plenty. At our wedding-diuner we shall
have the bride, in her tiffety-taffeties most sumptuous, and the
bridegroom as well, in branched satin, as branched rosemary,
most courageous. I'll in and see them in all their beauty,
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 25
and give them the joy, the Ion-jour^ the besilasmanos^ or, to be
more vulgar to the incapable, the God give you good morrow.
PAH. Good morrow, fellow Simkin !
Clown. "Tis he : no, no, 'tis not he.
Sus. Good Simkin.
Clown. Her face ! the trick of her eye, her leer, her blink,
her askew ! but to say it is she, Proh dmm atqtw hominum
fideml
Phil. Art thou amaz'd to see me thus transformed,
Or thus altered I None but such a father,
Such a remorseless and hard-hearted father,
Gould so translate his children.
Clown. Oh, Mr. Philip ! I see your father is no scholar, but
a meer dunce. I protest I never read a more vile transla-
tion.
Sus. Nor saw so sudden and unmeet a change.
Clown. Oh, young mistress ! Ovid's Metamorphoses could
never show the like. But how comes this to pass ? the man-
ner ? the manner ? my heart begins to condole, and my con-
duit-pipes to open. We shall have a shower presently. The*
manner?
Phil. This morning, having married my betrothed,
For could I less do, having vow'd so much ?
I came to him, and most submissively entreated
Pardon for myself and her.
Clown. Band young man ! hold, good heart !
Phil. He presently reviles us ; then renounced us ;
Nor would he give us, should he see us starve,
And famish at his gate, no, not a crust
Of his hinds' bread; or of his smallest beer,
Not a bare crusefull, should we die for thirst.
Ckwn. 'Twill out ! "'twill out ! but now for the apparel*
8m. When he renounced us for his childeren,
We had no means reserved unless with baseness
To beg our victuals 5 were resolv'd to work ; -
26 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
So he, at our entreaty, hir'd us both
To be his hinds and drudges.
Clown. Your apron, good mistress ! And so and so, you
were stript out of your silks and satins, and forced to put on
these russets and sheepskins,
Phil. Even so.
Clown. 0, most tyrannical old fornicator old master, I
would say. Well, since 'tis so, no more young master, but
fellow-servant ; no more master Philip, but Phil ; here's my
hand ; I'll do two men's labours in one, to save you a labour ;
and, to spare your shoulders, I'll help at many a dead lift.
Come, I'll go teach you hayt and ree, gee and whoe, and which
is to which hand. Next, I'll learn you the names of all our
team, and acquaint you with Jock, the fore horse, and Fify the
fill-horse, and with all the godamercy fraternity.
Bus. Succeed it as Heav'n please !
Phil. What must be must be : Heav'n hath set it down :
At what they smile, why should we mortals frown ?
Clown. To see so brave a gentleman turn down ! [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Eounslow. Enter GOODWIN and FOSTER.
Foe. Are we not somewhat too early, think you?
Good. It appears so, for neither challenger nor defendant
are yet in the field.
Fos. Which way do you think the day will go ? or whether
of them do you hold to be the better man I
Good. That I am not able to judge 5 but if the opinion of
the world hold current, he that killed one brother, it is thought
will be the death of the other. But these things are beyond
us. Lie close, for being seen.
Enter RAINSFORD and Young FORREST.
Bains. Your resolution holds then ?
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 27
Young For. Men that are easily movM are soon remov'd
From resolution ; but when, with advice
And with foresight we purpose, our intents
Are not without considerate reasons alter'd.
Rains. Thou art resolved, and I prepared for thee.
Yet thus much know, thy state is desperate,
And thou art now in danger's throat already
Ev'n half-devour'd. If I subdue thee, know
Thou art a dead man ; for this fatal steel,
That searched thy brother's entrails, is prepared
To do as much to thee. If thou survivest,
And I be slain, th'art dead too ; my alliance
And greatness in the world will not endure
My slaughter unreveng'd. Come, I am for thee.
Young For. I would my brother liv'd, that this our difference
Might end in an embrace of folded love ;
But 'twas HeavVs will that for some guilt of his
He should be scourg'd by thee $ and for the guilt
In scourging him, thou by my vengeance punish'd.
Come ; I am both ways ann'd, against thy steel
If I be pierc'd by it, or 'gainst thy greatness
If mine pierce thee,
Rains. Have at thee. [They fight and pause.
Young For. I will not bid thee hold ; but if thy breath
Be as much short as mine, look to thy weakness.
Rains. The breath, thou draw'st but weakly,
Thou now shalt draw no more.
\Theyfight FORREST losetb his weapon.
Young For. That Heaven knows.
He guard my body that my spirit owes !
[Guards himself, and puts by with hw %&& ^if
the oilier running, fatts over him and FORREST
kills him.
Good. My cousin's folPn pursue the murderer.
28 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
And in this deep amazement may commit
Some desperate outrage.
Young For. Had I but known the terror of this deed,
I would have left it done imperfectly.
Bather than in this guilt of conscience
Laboured so far. But I forget my safety.
The gentleman is dead. My desperate life
Will be o^ersway'd by his allies and friends,
And I have now no safety but by flight.
And see where my pursuers come. Away !
Certain destruction hovers o'er my stay. [Exit.
Good. Come, follow ! see he takes towards the city.
You bear the body of my cousin hence,
Unto the neighboring village. Til still keep
Within the murderer's sight. Eaise hue and cry !
He shall not scape our pursuit, tho' he fly.
SCENE III.
Old HARDING^ Garden. Enter WILLIAM and PHILIP.
WU. Now, wilt truss me that point, Philip ? I could find
in my heart to beg thee of my fether to wait upon me : but
that I am afraid he cannot spare thee from the plough. Be-
sides, I heard him say but the last day, that thou wast more
fit to make a hind, than a serving-man.
PhiL Sir, you were once my brother.
WiL True, but that was when you were a son to my father.
PML Ay, and my younger brother : I had then priority of
birth.
WiL But now it seems we have got the start of you ; for,
being but a servant, you are taken a button-hole lower.
Phil. When will this tedious night give place to day ?
WiL I hope I may command.
PhiL I must obey.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 29
Enter JOHN and SUSAN.
Jo/in. My string, Sue! Are these shoes well mundified?
Down a your marrowbones, good Sue ! I hope you are not so
straight-laced but you can stoop. You acknowledge me one of
your young masters. If not, 'tis not unknown to you that I
know the way to my father.
$w. Yes, sir ; and can tell tales, I know you can ; and I
have felt the smart on^t.
John. Whip me, if you shall not, if you begin once to grow
stubborn. Why when ?
Sw. As humble as your feet. [Kneels to tie JOHN'S sJioe.
Enter Mrs. HARDING.
Mrs. H. Why, how now, maid ! is this work fitting you !
And you, sir ; you are lookM for in the stable,
And should not loiter here. Will you be gone ?
Phil. I am for any service. [Exit.
Sus. And I too. [[Exit.
Mrs. H. We shall find other things for you to do.
Will. If you cannot, here be that they can. A drudge ! a
groom ! Ill send him of my errands.
John. And if I do not find work for her, Til do nothing but
take tobacco in every room, because, twice a day, 111 make her
clean the house. [Exeunt.
Mrs. H. These think, because I am their stepmother,
Their chiefest torture is my most content,
When I protest, to see them thus afflicted,
It grates my very heartstrings every hour.
For tho" 1 before their father's ruthless eye,
And their remorseless brothers, I seem stern,
Yet privately they taste of my best bounty.
And other of my servants are by me
Hir'd to overcome their chiefest drudgery.
(Voices urithin). Follow, follow, follow !
30 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Enter Young FORREST with Ms weapon drawn.
Yowff For. I am pursued ; and there's no place of refdge
Left to my desperate life. But here's a woman !
Oh, if she harbour soft effeminate pity,
She may redeem me from a shameful death.
Mrs. H. A man, thus arm'd, to leap my garden wall !
Help, help !
Youny For. As you are fair, and should be pitiful ;
A woman, therefore, to be mov'd ; a Christian,
And therefore one that should be charitable,
Pity a poor distressed gentleman,
Who gives his desp'rate fortune, life, and freedom,
Into your hand.
Mrs. H. What are you, sir, that, with your weapon drawn,
Affright me thus ?
Young For. If you protect my life,
Fair creature, I am a free gentleman ;
But if betray me, then a poor man doom'd
Unto a shameful death.
Mrs. H. What's your offence,
That such suspicious fear and tim'rous doubt
Waits on your guilty steps I
Yowng For. I've kilFd a man 5
But fairly, as I am a gentleman,
Without all base advantage,
In even trial of both our desp'rate fortunes.
Mrs. H. Fairly!
Young For. And, tho' I say it, valiantly,
Mrs. H. And hand to hand ?
Young For. In single opposition. ^
Mrs. JET. In a good quarrel !
Young For. Else let the hope, I have in you of safety,
Turn to my base confusion. Gentle creature,
[A cry within, " Follow? <<?.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA, 31
I cannot now stand to expostulate.
For, hark ! the breath of my pursuers blows
A fearful air upon my flying heel,
And I am almost in their fatal gripe.
Say, will you save me ?
Mrs. ff. I will. Then climb into that hovel.
Young For. Oh, any where.
Mrs. E. Nay, quickly then,
Young For. Your hand, fair lady !
Mrs. H. Away, leave me to answer for you.
(Sits down to worK). \Ernt Young FOR.
Enter Old HARDING, G-OODWIN, FOSTER, and Officers.
Old Ear. Over my garden-wall ! Is't possible ?
Good. Over this wall I saw him leap it lightly.
Old Ear. That we shall quickly know. See, here's my wife ;
She can inform us best.
Fos. Saw you not, Mrs. Harding, a young man
Mount o'er this garden-wall with his sword drawn ?
Mrs. E. My eyes were stediast on my work in hand,
And, trust me, I saw none.
Old Ear. Perhaps he took down to the neighbour village,
And when he saw my wife, altered his course.
Mrs. E. 'Tis very like so, for I heard a bustling
About that hedge; besides a sudden noise
Of some that swiftly ran towards your fields.
Make haste ; 'twas now ; he cannot be far off.
Old Ear. Gentlemen, take my word : I am High Constable.
It is part of my office : I'll be no shelter
For any map. that shall offend the law.
If we surprise him, I will send him bound
To the next Justice, Follow you your search.
Good. Farewell, good Mr. Harding.
Fos. Your word^s sufficient, without further warrant
32 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Continue our pursuit ! All ways are laid \
And ere he react the city shall be staid.
[Exeunt GOODWIN and FOSTER.
Old Har. Adieu, good friends.
Mrs. H. Pray, what's the business, sir?
Old Har. Two gentlemen went into the fields to fight,
And one hath slain the other.
Mrs. If. On what quarrel !
Old Ear. I had small leisure to importune that :
Only this much I learnt : the man that's dead
Was great in fault ; and he that now survives.
Subject unto the danger of this search,
Bare himself fairly ; and his fortune being
To kill a man allied to noblemen,
And greatly friended, is much pitied.
But law must have its course.
Mrs. H. (aside). If this be true,
I thank my fete, and bless this happy hour
To save a life within law's griping power.
Old Ear. Come, then: the morning's bleak, and sharp the
air.
In to the fire, my girl ; there's wholesome heat,
I'll in, and see my servants set at meat.
Mrs. H. Sir, Til but end this flow'r, and follow you.
If this should be some bloody murderer,
Great were my guilt to shrowd him from the law.
But if a gentleman by fortune crost,
'Tis pity one so valiant and so young
Should be given up into his enemy's hands,
Whilst greatness may perhaps weigh down his cause,
And balance him to death, who thus escaping
May, when he hath by means obtained his peace,
Redeem his desp'rate fortunes, and make good
The forfeit made unto the oflended law.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 33
Prove as Heaven shall direct, Til do my best :
'Tis charity to succour the distrest.
Enter Young FORREST, above.
Young For. Fair mistress, are they gone ? may I de-
scend ?
Mrs. H. No safety lives abroad. Then, pray, forbear
To speak of 'scaping hence.
Young For. Oh, but I fear !
Mrs, H. My life for yourV
Young For. However poor I fare,
May you of this your charitable care
Taste happy fruit.
Mrs. H. You did not kill him foully ?
Young For. No, I protest.
Mrs. H. Nor willingly ?
Young For. I willingly fought with him, but unwillingly
Did I become his death's man.
Mrs. ff. Could you now
Wish him alive again ?
Young For. With his hands loose ;
And yet he slew my brother.
Mrs. H. Heaven hath sent
This gentleman, because he's penitent,
To me for'succour: therefore till the violence
Of all his search be past, I'll shrowd him here,
And bring you meat and wine to comfort you,
Free, I protest, from all unchaste pretence,
Till by some means I may convey you hence.
Young For. The life you save, if I overcome this plunge.
Shall be for ever your's : all my endeavours
To your devoted service I will store,
And carefully hoard up.
Mrs. H. Sir, now no more. [Exeunt.
D
Si FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Old HARDING'S Garden. Enter PHILIP and CLOWN.
Clown. Come, good fellow Phil ! What, nothing but mourn-
ing and mowing ? Thy melancholy makes our teams to vail
their fore-tops, and all our jades crest-fallen ; and, (to see theo
wail in woe) in the deep cart-ruts, up to the bellies, plunge in
pain. My mistress Susan, she's in the same pitiful pickle too.
Phil. Oh, if this hand could execute for her
All that my cruel father hath imposed,
My toil would seem a pleasure ; labour, ease.
Clown. Ease? what's that? there's little to be found in our
house. Now we have loosed the plough in the fields, they'll
find work enough about home, to keep us from the scurvy.
Your hat, Phil ! see, here comes our mistress .'
Enter Mrs. HARDING, with bread and a lotih.
Mrs. H. The place ia clear : none sees me ; now's the time
To bear my sorrowful charge bread, meat, and wino.
These six days I have kept him undiscovered.
Neither my husband's nor my servants' eyes
Have any way discovered him. How now,
Fellows ? whither so fast this way ?
Clown. Nay, we do not use to go too fast, for falling : our
business at this present is about a little household service.
Mrs. H. What business have you this way ?
Clown. We are going, as they say, to remove, or, according
to the vulgar, to make clean, where Chanticleer, and Dame
Partlet, the hen, have had some doings.
Mrs. H. What dost thou mean by that ?
Phil. By my master's appointment, I must not say my
father's : he hath commanded us first to make clean this hen-
roost, and after, to remove the hay out of that hay-loft.
Mrs. H. Oh, me ! I fear the gentleman's betray'd !
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 35
What shift shall I devise I
Clown. By your leave, mistress : pray letfs come by you.
Mrs. H. Well ! double diligence your labour has saved :
Tig done already : Go and take your pleasure.
Son Philip, when I heard my husband speak
Of such a base employment, I straight hirM
A laborer to prevent it, and 'tis done.
Phil. You're kinder, mother, than my father cruel,
And save me many a toil, and tedious travail,
Impost on me by your husband.
Mrs. H. O'er this place,
IT! bear a jealous and a watchful eye,
To prevent this discovery. And will you be gone ?
Clown, Yes, sweet mistress, if you would but give a wink,
a word, to the dairy-maid for a mess of cream betwixt my
fellow Philip and I : it's good to be doing something ; for, you
know, my master does not love we should be idle.
Mrs. H. Well, sir, perhaps I shall remember you.
Clown, dome, Phil, let's be gone \ and if you chance to
blush at what my mistress hath promised. Til tell you who
cast milk in your face. [Exeunt.
Mrs. H. Shall I compare his present misery
With the misfortunes of this gentleman,
Which might I reckon greater ? but I leave them,
And to my charge. We all must yield to fate ;
He casts us down that best can raise our. state.
Enter SUSAN, with something in her apron.
Sus. Oh, thro 1 what greater plunges can I pass
Than I have done already! A father's penury
The good old man dejected and cast down
My husband even swept from the family
Where he was born, and quite forsook by him
By whom he should be fostered 5 made a servant
Amongst his servants, and his brothers' scorn ;
36 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
These mischiefs make me wish myself unborn.
Mrs. H. Again prevented !
Sus. How hath this meditation drawn my thoughts
From my intended business ! I forgot
What I was sent about. My master bade me
Scatter this wheat and barley "mongst the hens ;
And I will soon despatch it.
Mrs. ff. What makes thee
So near the place that I so strictly guard ?
What business have you there ?
Sits. Forsooth, my master
."Bade me go serve the poultry.
Mrs. H. Come, you shall not ;
For this time I will do it for you.
Su$. Mother and mistress too !
""Tis courtesy in you to proffer it,
But should I suffer, you might hold it justly
In me small manners.
Mrs. IT. I say it shall be so.
Sus. Shall any servant
Stand still, and see her mistress do her work ?
Pray, pardon me : I should condemn myself
Beyond imagination, should I stand
Idly and see the work done by your hand.
Mrs. H. I say I will.
Sus. My words dare not say nay \
But my more forward action brooks no stay.
Mrs. H. Then, doubtless, he n s betray'd.
Sus. Oh, me ! whatfs here ? why
Kerens one that's come to steal your hens, a thief
Who 1 !! filch your poultry.
Mrs. H. 1 Tis not so.
Sus. Shall I cry thieves aloud ?
Mrs. H. For heavVs sake, no !
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 37
Young FORREST leaps doicn.
Young For. Betray then hapless Forrest. Once more I lie,
Ordained for pity, or prepared to die.
What, none but women, and betray me ? then
I see your hearts are flintier far than men.
Mrs. H. Think not that Til betray you, nor shall she,
If she respect my love, or her own life.
Sus. Betray my brother ! it shall ne'er be said
I stopt his flight when he had means to 'scape.
Young For. Oh, fortune beyond hope ! amazed I stand
To see my life laid in my sister's hand.
Sus. Dear brother !
Young For. My sweet sister !
Mrs. H. A strange greeting !
And, 'twixt two hapless creatures, happy meeting !
Young For. What change hath brought you to this down-
cast state ?
Sus. Nay, what mishap hath ruinated you 5
Mrs. H. You both forget your dangers : Then leave off
These passive fits, and study for the safety
Of this distressed gentleman, your brother,
Now in the ruthless mercy of the law.
Young For. Sister, you've heard my fortunes.
Sus. With sad cheer,
Little surmising you had laid so near.
Dear mother, let us crave your farther assistance
In furthering his escape.
Mrs. H. I am all your's.
Young For. My safety lies in sudden expedition :
Debar me, I am dead.
Mrs. H. I have a brother
Lives at Gravesend an owner and a merchant,
And could we but convey you safe to him,
Ho soou would ship you ovor into France.
38 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Young For. All ways are laid, and hue and cry sent forth
Thro' evYjr hundred. How shall I reach thither
Without discovery !
Sus. Here stands an empty trunk in the next room,
Which should be sent by water to Gravesend
To your brother. What, if we should lock
Him fast in that !
Mrs. H. I like it well ; but whom
Shall we employ to bear it safe ?
S'us. Give it my husband and your man in charge :
They two will see it carefully delivered.
Mrs. H* By them I'll write unto him earnestly
In your behalf, and doubt not of your usage.
Young For. The trunk, the trunk ! oh, quickly, if you
love me,
Mrs. H. Come, Til to write.
Sus. Ill find those that shall bear it.
Young For. The plot is likely, but HeaVn knows I fear it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Old HARDING'S House. Enter Old HARDING, JOHN, and
WILLIAM.
Old Ear. Now, boys, no question but you think it long
To have my estate made over to your use.
John. Oh, lord, sir 1
Old Har. To have your eldest brother quite disabled
Of any challenge of inheritance.
Wil. We think it not long, sir ; but if you should use all
expedition possible, I should say " Beshrew their hearts that
would hinder it." We do not wish our brother disinherited 5
but if it be your pleasure, Heaven forbid that we, being your
sons, should any way contradict it.
John. We should not show ourselves obedient sons, to per-
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 39
suade you to infringe your former vow : for, father, if you
remember, you swore long since to do it. And Heaven forbid
you should break your oath !
Old -Har. Boys of mine own free spirit, mine own heart !
And will you see him pine, beg, starve, nay, perish.
Ere you will once relieve him ?
Wil. If t be your will, we'll swear to do it.
Old Ear. And tho" the beggar's brat, his wife, I mean,
Should, for the want of lodging, sleep on stalls
Or lodge in stocks or cages, would your charities
Take her to better harbour.
John. Unless to Cold Harbour, where, of twenty chimnies
standing, you shall scarce, in a whole winter, see two smoking.
"We harbour her ? Bridewell shall first.
Old Har. Lads of my own condition, my own humour \
Call me a Scrivener : Reach me pen and ink :
I'll do't immediately.
Wil. Bun for a scrivener, Jack.
John. Mean time, post thou for pen and ink.
Enter Mrs. HARDING, meeting them.
Mrs. H. Stay ! no such haste.
Sweet husband, there be fitter times than these
Made choice for such affairs. There's no enforcement
To make your will, being in such perfect health.
Pray, if you love me, do not talk of death ;
Nor to your safety give such ill presage.
Besides, this expedition in your sons
Shows that they covet more your lands than life.
Defer't then somewhat longer, for my sake.
Old Har. Then, for thy sake, I will. But, my kind boys,
^Tis rather to soothe her, than your least wrong ;
I will delay a little, tho* not long.
Wil. It hath been long a doing : I would it were once done.
If he should perk over the perch now, and all fell to our elder
40 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
brother, we have used him so doggedly, the least he can do is
to thrust us out of doors by head and shoulders.
John. Let him alone now : well urge him to it at more con-
venient leisure.
Old Har. When heard you from your brother at Gravesend ?
Or how falls out his voyage, can you tell ?
Mrs. H. I had a letter from" him two days since,
In which he writes me all his goods are shipt,
His wares in hold well stowed, and nothing wantw
Save a fair gale to bring him to the Straits.
Old Har. HeaVn make his voyage prospYoutf } for thou
know'st
I have a venture of five hundred pound
Entered with him : my fortune joins with his :
If he succeed, it falls out well with me ;
If not, Tin likely to impart his loss.
Enter Old FORREST.
Old For. You are well found, sir.
Old Har. Ay 2 what art thou, fellow ?
Old For. You knew me in my pride and flourishing state,
Have yon forgot me now ? As I remember,
We two were bred together, school- follows,
Boarded together in one Master's house,
Both of one form and like degree at school.
Old Har. Oh, thy name's Forrest.
Old For. Then in those days, your father, Mr. Harding,
Was a good honest former, tenant too
Unto my father. All the wealth he purchased
(Far be upbraiding from me !) came from us,
As your first raiser \ and you calTd me then
Your landlord and young master. Then was then.
But now the course of Fortune's wheel is turned \
You climb'd, we fell ; and that inconstant Fate,
That kurl'd us down, hath lift you where we sate.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 41
Old Har. Well, we are lord of all those manors now,
You then possessed. Have we not bought them dearly ?
Are they not ours ?
Old For. I no way can deny it. I rather come
As a poor suitor to you, to entreat you,
For Heaven's sake and charity's,
To pity my lost daughter, your cast son.
Sir, I in all had but three children left me,
Crutches to bear up my penurious age ;
One of these three was butchered cruelly,
His body piteously, alas ! pierc'd thro\
Then had I but two left, my eldest son,
And he's or dead, or fled to save his life ;
If he still live, IVe wasted, sold, or spent
Ev'n all that little that my fortunes left 5
And now I have but one, one only daughter,
And her I am not able to relieve
With aught save tears and pity. To these helps,
Oh, lend your fair assistance ! She is your's,
As well as mine.
Old Har. All my part I disclaim,
Both in my son and her. They crost my pleasure,
And they shall taste the smart. I was derided.
They that love me shall by my will be guided.
WiL And that am I.
John. And I, too, father.
Mrs. H. Base parasites !
Old ffar. You ever pleased me well ;
And you shall mount the height from which they fell.
Enter PHILIP and SUSAN.
Old For. See, see, alas ! those that sev'n summers since
Saw thy estate, and look upon thee now,
Would at least pity, if not help thy wants.
How happy was thy mother and my wife,
42 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
That slept her last sleep long before these sorrows
Did take their birth !
Sus. Dear father, succour us.
Help to redeem us from this cruel man
That thus insults upon our miseries.
Old For. Fair daughter, add not to my tedious woes.
Thou bidd'st a blind man guide thee on thy way.
And tak'st a broken staff to be thy stay.
Phil. Good sir, release us.
Old For. It must be then with tears.
For other help IVe none ; and they, HeaVn knows.
Can little ease, but never help your woes.
Sir, if your heart be not of adamant,
Or some hard metal that's impenetrable,
Pity your blood and mine. So soon grown deaf i
Kind gentlemen ! speak to your ruthless father !
Show yourselves brothers. Do you turn aside 2
Fair mistress, what say you ? I see your eyes
In all things with our passions sympathize,
And you are doubtless sprung from gentle blood.
G-entry and baseness in all ages jar ;
And poverty and wealth are still at war.
Old Har. Thou grow'st too tedious. Prithee, friend, begone I
Old For. I hope you do not scorn me.
Old Ear. The truth is,
I fain would have thee leave me.
Old For. *Tis no disparagement unto your birth
That you converse with me. If I mistake not,
Sure, sure, I am as well born.
Old Har. And yet sure,
'Tis ten to one I shall be better buried.
Old For. I am as honest.
Old Har. Nay, there you are aground.
Pm honester by twenty thousand pound.
Old For. Are all such honest, then, that riches have 'J
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 43
Old Har. Yes, rich and good ; a poor man and a knave.
Away, about thy business : loiter not
About my gates. I shall compel thee else.
For thy request, my will is peremptory :
Thy softness makes me much more violent.
Whom thou the more commiseratfst, I contemn.
TheyVe in ray deepest hate. Wife, sons, let's go. [Exeunt.
Old For. With eyes in tears sunk, heart circumvolvM in woe.
Sus. What shall we now do ?
Phil. What, but endure the worst ?
When comfort's banished, welcome all extremes !
Yot I have sent my fellow, or my man,
To prove some friends to help to stock a farm.
I have not yet their answer ! 'Tis the last
Of all our hopes. That failing, we have run
Our latest course, outcast, and quite undone. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Merchants House. Enter the MERCHANT, reading a letter,
and after him Young FORREST.
Merch. My sister writes how your occasions stand,
And how you are to use my secrecy
In a strange business that concerns your life.
She hath left nothing unremember^d here,
Or slightly urgM, to make me provident
And careful of your safety. Grentle sir,
Tho 1 Tm a stranger to your fortunes,
Yot for her sake whose love I tender dearly,
I ain all your*s ; my house to entertain you j
My purse to furnish you in any course ;
My ship, if you'll to sea, is at your service ;
Make choice in which of these, in all, or any,
You will employ my faithful industry.
Young For. Oh, sir, your unexpected courtesy
44 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
To a poor stranger challenges the name
Of brother to the kindest gentlewoman
That ever breathed this air. You cannot chuse
But be of one strain, that such kindness use.
You bade me to make choice of all your favours.
My poverty and my necessity
Do both of them, in my extremes, conserve
To make me think the meanest of any means,
That can unplunge me from this gulf of trouble,
To be much better than I can deserve,
To be much greater than I dare desire,
Being too poor to merit, too dejected
To aim at any hopes.
Merch. You wrong your worth.
You have desert sufficient, that she writes
In your behalf; and I commend her for it.
Methinks I see such honest parts in you,
That upon weaker urgence than these lines
I would build much affection on these gifts,
Which I see nature hath endowed you with.
Indeed I flatter not. None flatter those
They do not mean to gain by. 'Tis the guiae
Of sycophants, such great men to adore
By whom they mean to rise, disdain the poor.
My object is much otherwise intended ;
I fain would lose by him whom I commended*
Young For. If ever thus my weak ability
Grow strong again, I will employ it solely
To shun the base sin of ingratitude
Towards you and your fair sister.
Merck. Will you use me?
Yotmff For. But what shall I return you in exchange
Of those great fevours ?
Merch. Come, your love, your love.
'Tis more tliau all I can attempt for you
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 45
Amounts unto. Pray let me know the most
Of my employment.
YounfflFor. Then will you but provide me a safe waftage
Over to France, to Flanders, or to Spain,
Or any foreign coast. I dare not trust
My native country with my forfeit life.
Sir, this is all I would entreat of you.
Merck. You're modest in your suit. The more you use
me,
The more I think you love me. Therefore
This night I'll get you waftage o*er to France.
Such sea-apparel as I use myself
You shall accept part. Kerens ten pounds in gold,
And wheresoever you shall live hereafter,
Pray let me once a year receive from you
Some briefer note. I'll not return your love
Idle or empty-handed.
Young For. My life's yours,
And lessor satisfaction than my life
Is much too little.
Merck. Much too much. No more,
No more, I do entreat you. I am now
Upon a voyage to the Straits myself,
But 'twill be two days hence.
Young For. HeaVn be your guide !
As I find you, so find friends in your need !
Blushing, I run into your countless debt
More sums of love than all my hoard can pay.
But if these black adventures I survive,
Ev'n till this mortal body be ingrav'd,
You shall be lord of that which you have sav'd.
M&rch. Only your love. Come, we'll provide this night
For your safe waftage, and your secret flight.
[Exeunt*
46 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
SCENE IV.
A street. Enter CLOWN, FOSTER, GOODWIN, and a
Gentleman.
Fos. Speak with us I Why, what's the business ?
Clown. Nay, that's more than I can resolve you upon the
sudden. It may be there's some great fortune fallen to him of
late, and he would impart the benefit to you.
Good. Nay, then, let's go. Where shall we find him ?
Clown. A word to the wise. It may be that he's in somo
monstrous extreme necessity, and would gladly borrow some
money of you, or so.
Good. Ay, said'st thou so ? now I remember me, I needs
must home. I have] some business. I'll see him at soino
other time.
Clown. Nay, but one word more.
Fos. We cannot stay now.
Gent. Nor I : a great occasion calls me hence.
Clown. Nay, then, I see you are apt to take a man at the
worst still. If you knew what little need he hath to borrow :
" Borrow f quoth he, " a good jest." You know he and I,
my fellow Phil and I, 'mongst other works thsvfc my master
uses to put us to, we use to dig and delve : now, if wo havo
found a pot of money, and would trust you with the laying of
it out, why so !
Fos. How!
Clown. Marry, even so- You know his father is such a
dogged old curmudgeon, he dares not for his ears acquaint
him with it.
Gent. Prithee, go on.
Clown. 'Twere kindness in him to choose you out of all the
friends he hath in the world to impart this benefit to, wore't
not ! and say true.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 47
Gent. Troth, he was always a kind, honest youth, and would
it lay in me to pleasure him !
Good* In troth, or me ! he should command my purse and
credit both.
Fos. Where might we speak with him ?
Clown. Hard by, sir, hard by. But stay, gentlemen, sup-
pose there is no such matter as finding of money \ but what we
missed in digging, to supply his present necessities, he hopes
to find from you ! I promise you, I partly doubt such a
matter.
Fos. How ! I forgot myself; I needs must home.
Good. Troth, nor can I stay.
Gent. In sooth, nor I. (going).
Enter PHILIP, meeting them.
Phil. Gentlemen, whither so fast ? I sent to speak with you.
Clown. I can assure you, sir, they are better to speak withal,
than to borrow money of. One word or two with you, my
friends (by your leave, master). Gentlemen, I love you well ;
and that you may know I love you, I would make bold to re-
veal a secret to you. My young master here, though you see
him in these homely accoutrements, simple as you stand here,
he has more to take to than Til speak of. He might, ay,
marry might he, he might go brave and shine in pearl and
gold : he hath now in his instant possession a thousand pound
thick.
Fos. A thousand pounds ?
Clown. Nay, old lads, he hath learnt his 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.
And never cost him ten shillings.
Good. Five thousand pounds ?
Clown. You know where you hear it. Mum ! here's your
^ale and your talesman.
Gent. Good, good, proceed.
Clown. Now lift up your large ears and listen. To whom
should he reveal all this wealth but to some friend ? and how
48 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
should he know a friend but by trying of him ? and how should
he try a friend but by troubling of him ? and how should he
trouble a friend but by borrowing money of him ? Now, gentle-
men, it may be at first, hell make his case poor and pitiful to you.
Fos. Only to try us.
Clown. Only to try you : have you no brains ? do you think
we have need of money ? has any of you occasion to use a hun-
dred pound ? need of money ! as I said afore, so I say again,
only to try you. He has done the like to four or five that I
know. Now, because they would not pity his supposed poverty,
he would not acquaint them with this infinite mass of wealth.
You have^wits, brains, apprehension. If he makes his case
known to you, lay it on. If I said lay it on, lay it on. You
are not every body. If I had not seen some sparks in you,
you had not been the men. Lay it on !
Fos. Enough, enough ; I understand thee fully ;
Kind Master Philip, will you use my aid
In any feir employment ?
Good. Sir, or mine ?
Gent. Or mine ?
Phil. Worthy friends ! even one as all !
Freely to speak, as you are gentlemen,
And I from childhood have protested love,
As you are Christians, therefore to the poor,
Such as I am, should be most charitable,
Help with your plenty to relieve my wants.
You know my labour, and have seen my need.
Then take some pity of my poor estate,
And help to ransom me from slavery,
By lending me some money.
Clown. Did I not tell you so ? lay it on.
Fos. Sir, you shall have a hundred pound of me.
Good. What need you use him, and myself so near !
Gent. Trouble not them, sir 5 you shall h*Vt of me.
Clown. Take it, master 5 take it all.
.
take mine.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 49
Phil. Oh, heavens 1 where slept this friendship all this while ?
Who said that charity was fled to heaven,
And had no known abiding here on earth ?
See, these that know me disinherited,
And to have no means to supply my wants,
Strive who should most engage his purse and credit,
To one so much oppressed with poverty !
Clown. Alas J sir, you see their kindness.
(To the rest.) I told you how strange he would make it. Lay
it on.
Fos. Pray, sir, accept my kindness.
Good. 1 p
> Pray
(xent. j
Cloion. Pray, master, take their courtesies.
Phil. Til use them all,
And only borrow twenty pounds a-piece
To stock a poor farm for my wife and me.
Some three score pounds will do it.
Clown. Now, now, lay it on.
Gent. Take it all of me.
Good. Why all of you, sir ? is not mine as ready I
Fos. When one can do^t, what need you trouble three ?
But for the thousand pound, sir ; do not think,
But you may trust me with the whole employment
Of all such monies, and never trouble these.
Phil. What thousand pound ?
Good. Tho* it be six thousand,
I durst be steward of so great a sum.
Clown. Why, master fellow Phil !
Phil. Do you mock me, gentlemen \
My wealth amounts not to a thousand straws.
Clown. I told you he would make it strange. Lay it on.
Fos. Make not your wealth so dainty ; for we know
You have at least six thousand pound in bank.
You may impart it unto us your friends.
50 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Phil. Who hath deluded you, derided me,
And made a mockery of my poor estate \
Now T protest I have not in the world
More riches than these garments on my back.
Good. Impossible ; why, here's my tale, and my talesman.
Clown. No, sir, you are deceived. Here is your tale, and
you yourself are your talesman \ for you cany it about you.
The truth is, gentlemen, that we have betwixt us both no
more crosses than you see.
Phil. Only the late hope of those sixty pounds,
Promised by you unurg'd and uncornpelTd,
May raise my ruined fortunes.
Gent. Will you disburse it all, that were so forward ?
Fos. I have no money. Do it you for me.
Good. It is but one man's labour, do't yourself.
If you have none, I have less. God be with you. One stays
for me at home.
Gent. Nay, take me with you, sir.
Phil. Why, gentlemen ! will you revolt your worda ?
Fos. I have no money.
Phil. But now you striv'd which man should lend me most.
Fos. But then we reckoned, sir, without our host.
Then we supposed you rich, but being grown poor,
IVe made a foolish vow to lend no more. \E%it.
Gent. I have made the like. You know your father
threatens
To disinherit you, and should we lend,
You, being poor, should of our purses spend. [Escit.
Phil. Tho' I be poor, heav'n may enable me.
Good. Heav'n may do much. That's all the beggar's
saying.
Let me hoard wealth. You seek for wealth by praying.
[Exit.
Phil. The time may come ere long, so I divine,
To punish those that at their power repine.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 51
Enter a PURSUIVANT, meeting the OLOWX.
Purs. Whither away so fast, sirrah? In the Queen's name,
I command you stay.
Clown. What are you that look so big?
Purs. A pursuivant.
Clown. If you be so pursy, can you lend us any money ! I
assure you, it was the last business we were about. Or else,
tell me the reason why you stay my passage.
Piers. Sirrah, I have a Proclamation to publish, and
because myself am something hoarse, and thou hast a large
wide mouth, and a laudable voice, I charge thee, for the
better understanding of the multitude, to speak after me, word
by word.
Clown. If it be nothing else, do but advance me, and Til
speak high enough. Come now and teach me my new lesson.
Purs. " Whereas two famous Rovers on the Sea."
Clown. Whereas two famous Eogues upon the Sea.
Purs. " Purser and Clinton."
Clown. That lost their purses at the Clink.
Purs. " Long since proclaimed pirates."
Clown. Long since proclaimed spirits.'
Purs. " Notwithstanding Her Majesty's commission."
Clown. Notwithstanding Her Majesty's condition.
Purs. " Still keep out."
Clown. And will not come in,
Purs. "And have of late spoiled a ship of Exeter."
Clown. And have of late spoiled all the sheep in the Ex-
chequer.
Purs. "And thrown the chief merchant overboard."
Clown. And thrown the merchants' cheeses overboard.
Purs. " I, therefore, in Her Majesty's name."
Clown. I, therefore, in the name of Her Majesty.
Purs. " Proclaim to him or them."
Clown. Proclaim to them or him.
52 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Purs. " That can bring in these pirates' ships or heads."
Clown. That can bring in these piecrusts or sheeps'-heads.
Purs. " A thousand pound sterling,"
Clown. A thousand stares and starlings.
Purs. " If a banishM man, his country ."
Clown. If a man, he shall be banished his country.
Purs. " If a condemned man, liberty,"
Clown. If a man at liberty, condemned.
Purs. " Besides her Majesty"* especial favour."
Clown. Besides her Majesty^ spectacles and favour.
Purs. " And so God save the Queen !"
Clown. And have you done now, sir?
Purs. I have. Farewell! [JEW*.
Clown. Farewell, Mr. Pursuivant: he hath so filled my
head with proclamations. [Exit.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
On board of Ship. A great alarum, and shot. Enter PURSER
and CLINTON, irith Mariners^ bringing in the MERCHANT,
bound prisoner, with others.
Purs. Now, valiant mates, you have maintained this fight
With courage, and with wonted hardiment.
The spoil of this rich ship we will divide
In equal shares 3 and not the meanest of any
But by the custom of the sea may challenge,
According to his place, rights in the spoil.
Tho* outlaws, we keep laws amongst ourselves :
Else we could have no certain government.
Clin. A gallant prize, and bravely purchased, too,
With loss of blood on both sides. A sea-fight
Was never better managed, nor exploited
With more exchange of hostile opposition.
We did not look for such a valiant spirit
In any merchants breast ; nor did we think
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 53
A ship of such small burthen, so weak mannM,
Would have endur'd so hot and proud a fight.
Merck. Nor did I think the Providence of Heaven
Would so have favoured men of base condition.
Such as profess wrong, piracy, and theft,
Have spoiFd my men, and ransacked every corner
Of my surprised bark ; seized all my substance,
And shared amongst you my best merchandize \
And not alone undone me, and in me
All that are mine, but in overwhelming us,
Shook the estate of all my creditors.
Purs. What's that to us ? men of our known condition
Must cast behind our backs all such respects.
We left our consciences upon the land,
When we began to rob upon the sea.
CRn. We know we're pirates, and profess to rob 5
And would'st not have us freely use our trade ?
If thou and thine be quite undone by us,
We made by thee ; impute it to thy fortune,
And not to any injury in us ;
For he that's born to be a beggar, know,
However he toils and trafficks, must die so.
Herch. If you must needs profess this thriving trade,
Yet since the seas afford such choice of store,
You might, methinks, have spar'd your countrymen.
Purs. Nay, since our country have proclaimed us pirates,
And cut us off from any claim on England,
We'll be no longer now calTd Englishmen.
Merch. Clinton, I know thee, and have us'd thy skill,
Ere now in a good vessel of my own,
Before thou took'st this desp'rate course of life.
Perhaps if now thou dost me a good office,
Time may enable me to quit thy love.
OKn. Troth, I could wish we had light of any other j
But since thy fate hath cast thoe upon us,
54 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
We must neglect no opportunity.
For they that intermit advantages.
Must know Occasion's head is bald behind.
My merry mates, come top your cans apace,
Pile up your chests with prizes to the lids,
And stuff the vast hold of our empty ship
With such rich wares as this our prize affords.
Supple your biscuits with such choice of wines,
As freely come, brought by th' auspicious winds,
T'unlade themselves and seek for stowage here ;
Since wine comes freely, let's make spare of beer.
Purs. Let cans of wine pass round in healths thro' all.
Such golden prizes come not eVry day ;
Nor can we always meet such choice of spoils.
First, bind the Merchant ; lay him fast in hold,
And, having seiz'd all his best merchandize,
Pierce with your ordnance thro 1 his ship's craz'd keel,
And sink her down into the deep abyss,
Whence not all the cranes in Europe or the world
Can weigh her out again.
din. Let it be so.
Lest she prove prize unto a second foe.
Merck. Be't as my fete shall please. My loss I value
But as goods lent me, now to be paid back.
But that which most afflicts my sorrowful soul
Is that my friends have ventured largely with me,
Especially my sister, who I fear
Will brook that ill which I with patience bear.
Purs. Place him below the hatches as our prisoner ;
And now to part our purchase, bravely won,
EVn with the hazard of our dearest lives.
Clin. The danger past still makes the purchase sweet.
Come, first drink round, my merry mates ; that done,
Divide in peace what we by war have won.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 55
SCENE II.
On board a privateer. Enter Young FOREST, like a Captain of
a Ship, with Sailors and Mariners^ entering icith a flourish.
Young For. Gentlemen, and my merry mates at sea !
Those special favours you have crowned me with
Can never be deserved upon my part,
So weak is my ability and knowledge
In navigation and exploits at sea.
Yet since your loves so far exceed my worth.
That, of an unexperienced gentleman,
You have preferred me above many other
To be your captain and command your ship,
I hope to bear myself so even and upright
In this my charge, that it shall not repent you
Of the least honour to my grace decreed.
1. Mar. Our captain being lately slain in fight,
We by your valour scap'd our enemies,
And made their ship OUT prize. Since we first knew you,
All our attempts succeeded prosperously,
And HeaVn hath better blest us for your sake.
2. Mar. When first we took you to our fellowship,
We had a poor bark of some fifteen ton,
And that was all our riches. But since then
We have took many a rich prize firom Spain,
And got a gallant vessel stoutly mann'd,
And well provided of ordnance and small shot,
Of men and ammunition, that we now
Dare cope with any carrack that does trade
For Spain.
Young For. We dare do anything that stands with justice,
Our country's honour and the reputation
Of our own names. But amongst all our spoils,
I wonder we have 7 scapM the valiant pirates,
56 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
That are so mucli renowned upon the sea.
That were a conquest -worth the hazarding.
Besides a thousand pounds' reward proposed
To that adventurer that can bring them in,
My peace and pardon, tho 1 a man condemned,
Is by the proclamation ratified.
1. Mar. The ocean scarce can bear their outrages,
They are so violent, confounding all,
And sparing none, not their own countrymen.
We could not do our country greater service,
Than, in their pursuit, to engage our lives.
Young For. Ay, could we meet those Hovers on the Sea,
So famous for their piracies and thefts.
So feared of all that trade for merchandize,
So proud of their strong vessels, and stout ging,
That man her with their proud artillery,
That thunders wrack to every ship alike 5
Oh, with what ardour and inflamed desire
Would we in the mid sea encounter them !
Climb to the main-top, boy. See what you ken there !
Boy. I shall, I shall, sir.
Young For. We seek for purchase, but we tak't from foes,
And such is held amongst us lawful spoil.
But such as are our friends and countrymen
We succour with the best supply we have
Of victuals or munition, being distrest.
Boy. (alow). Ho there 1
1. Mar. Eh, boy?
Boy. A sail.
1. Mar. Whence is she?
Boy. That I cannot ken. She appears to me out of our
hemisphere ; no bigger than a crow.
Young For. Descry her better.
Oh, that it were the desp'rate pirate's ship,
On that condition we might grapple straight,
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 57
And try our desperate fortunes on eVn change !
But I that have been born to misery
Can never be so happy. Oh, my late !
When shall I pass away this tedious night ?
Or when, my stars, will you burn out more bright ?
Boy. Boatswain, ho !
1. JSIar. Whence comes thy ken ?
Say. She makes from south to west.
2. Mar. How bears she ?
Soy. To the leeward.
Young For. Clap on more sail, and quickly fetch her up.
What colours bears her maintop ?
Boy. She^s not so near in ken.
Young For. Discover her more amply. Now, my mates,
Prepare yourselves \ for it may be some prize.
You, master G-unner, load your ordnance well,
And look well to your cartridges and fire :
See that your gunner-room be clear and free.
Your matches bear good coals, your priming powder
Pounded, not dank. Next charge your murderers
For fear of boarding. Steersman, port the helm,
And bear up towards them. Be they friends or foes,
Well hail them, if HeaVn please. And, Master, you
Heed well your compass. Boatswain, with your whistle
Command the sailors to the upper deck,
To know their quarters s and to hear their charge.
Boy. Captain, ho !
Young For. The news ? Whence is her flag ?
Boy. She bears the cross of England and St. G-eorge.
Young For. Then she's a friend for England 5 and St. George
Our gallant vessel in her main top bears,
And all our preparations needless then.
Boy. Arm, rather ; for I see them from afar
Make all provision for a present fight :
ThoyVe managed their hatches, hung their pendants out, ditf-
58 FORTUNE BT LAND AND SEA.
play'd their ensigns, up with all their fights 5 their matches in
their cocks \ their smoking linstocks are likewise fired within
their gunners'* hands ; and hark ! they shoot already.
[A shot heard.
Young For. Gome, descend.
The pirate ! Fortune, thou art then my friend !
Xow, valiant friends and soldiers, man the deck,
Draw up your fights, and lace your drahlers on ;
Whilst 1 myself make good the forecastle.
And ply my musket in the front of death.
Quarter yourselves in order, some abaft,
Some in the ship's waist, all in martial order.
Our spritsail, topsail, and topgallant sail,
Our mainsail, bolt-sprit, and our mizen too,
Are hung with waving pendants 3 and the colours
Of England and St. George fly in the stern.
We fight against the foe we all desire.
Alarum, trumpets ! gunner, straight give fire ! [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
On board the Pirate-vessel. Enter PURSER and CLINTON, with
their Mariners, all furnished icith sea-devices, fitting for a
fffht.
Win. Give them a full broadside. Oh, Mr. Gunner, your
upper tier of ordnance shot over. You gave not one shot be-
tween wind and water, in all this skirmish.
Gun. Sir, you speak not well. I pierced them with my
chace-piece through and through. Part of their capstring too
I, with a piece abaft, shot overboard.
Pwr&* Oh ! 'twas a gallant shot ! I saw it shatter some of
their limbs in pieces. Shall we grapple, and lay their ship
aboard? where be these irons to hook them fast?
Clin. I fear they are too well manned j
For see the gunner, ready to give fire
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 59
Unto their murderers, if -we stay to board them.
Shall we set sail and leave them !
Purs. How can we, when our ship has sprung a leak !
Being ready now to founder in the sea I
Some ply the pump. Oh, for one lucky bullet.
To take their mainmast off! He that can make it
Shall hate a treble share in this next prize.
Gun. I shall go near it from my lower tier.
OKn. G-unner, do that : 'tis all that we desire. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
On board the Privateer. Enter Young FOREST and his
Manners.
1. Mar. Where is the gunner, captain ?
Young For. Where he should not be. At his pray'rs, I
think.
Is this a time to pray, when the sea's mouth
Seems to spit fire, and all the billows burn I
Gome, hand with me, and we will board the pirates
Instantly.
1. Mar. Hoist up more sails and fetch 'em roundly up.
And with their gallant vessel grapple straight.
Young For. I spy the pirates in the very prow
And forehead of their ship, both wafting us
With their bright swords. Now, steersman, take thy turn j
And, boatswain, with your baser trumpet's sound
Mingle your whistle's shrill. Oh, 'tis a music
The mermaids love !
1. Mar. Who hates it, that's a soldier?
2. Mar. Thy linstock, gunner ! take thy level right :
The wind is our's to help us in the fight.
Young For. It blows a stiff gale. It makes all for us :
Ev'ry commander once more to his charge !
He that this day shall die, dies honorably :
The cannon's basilisks and ordinance
CO FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Shall toll his faiTral peal ; and some, now sound,
Shall die three deaths in one, shot, burnt, and drown'd.
Come, spare no powder till you see our ship.
Whose hard, tough ribs, hewM from the heart of oak,
Now black with pitch, be painted blue with smoke. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
On board the Pirate ship. A great alarum and flourish. Enter
Young FORREST and his mates^ with PURSER and CLINTON,
with their Mariners, prisoners.
Young For. First, thanks to Heav'n for this great victory,
Bought with the fearfiil hazard of our lives,
And large expense of blood on either part.
Purs. We now are captives that made others thrall.
Thus ebbs may flow, and highest tides may fall.
din. The latest day must come to have his date :
Stars govern all, and none can change his fate.
Young For. Such prisoners, as these pirates keep in hold,
Release them straight. The riches of their ship
We 'mongst you will divide in equal shares ;
To evVy man's desert, estate, and place.
Purs. Fortune, I put defiance in thy fece !
Thy best weVe tasted, and thy worst we know.
We can but pay what we to Nature owe.
Enter the Merchant^ brought in with other Prisoners.
Merck. Surprised again ! whose prisoner am I now ?
Tm Fortune's ball. Whither am I bandied ?
Having lost all before, is't possible
That I can now be made a second prize ?
I lost my wealth in my first hostile strife ,-
And nothing now is left me save my life.
Young For. These prisoners we will, at our further leisure,
Peruse, and know their fortunes and estates.
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 61
Slerch. That captain I should know. That face of his
Is with mine eye familiar. Sure His he
Whose life I, by my sister's means, preserved,
With money and apparel furnished him,
And got him place at sea \ and hath he now
Forgot me ! What, not know me ? The world right !
When rich we honour, being poor we spight.
Ne'er look so strange. I do not mean to claim
Acquaintance of such men as are ingrate.
All my good deeds, once done, I throw behind,
Whose meed in heav'n, not earth, I look to find.
Young For. That merchant I have known ; and now I better
Survey him, 'tis the man to whom I owe
All that I have, my fortunes, nay, my life.
What reason have you, sir, to fly me so ?
Since unto you, and to your brother's wife,
My hopes, my power, my whole estate is due,
From whom my means and all my fortunes grow.
Merck. Do you know me, then ?
Young For. Think you I can forget,
Or slightly cancel such a countless debt I
Behold my ship, my conquest, and my prize,
These prisoners, with my full command, is your's ;
Your's, only your's : they at your service rest.
Alas ! dear friend, how came you thus distrest ?
Merck. These pirates robbM me, and have seized my goods,
With which they've stufFd their hold. My brother's venture
With mine own substance they have made their spoil.
Young For. All which, behold, I re-deliver you,
And to the utmost farthing will restore.
Besides, I make you partner in our prize.
And herein am I only fortunate
To prove a grateful debtor.
Merck. Your gratitude exceeds all courtesy,
Both of my sister's party and my own.
62 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA*
Young For. It comes much short- of either. Oh, dear sir,
Should I forget your friendship, showed in want,
And done in my extremest poverty,
It were a sin, of heav'n unpardonable.
This pirated ship, load with your merchandize,
You shall straight man for England, where arrivM,
Commend me to the mirror of her sex,
Your sister, in the humblest phrase you can,
To whom deliver, as from me, this jewel,
The best our voyage yields. Tell her, from me,
That gentleman, whose innocent life she sav'd,
Hath, by that token, her remembrance crav'd.
To my brother and my sister, this small sum,
To buy their service from their father's hand,
And free them from his slavish servitude.
Merck. I shall do all you will ; and thus o'erswayM,
Needs must report your debts are doubly paid.
Younff For. Having my pardon purchased, and my prisoners
Delivered to the sentence of the law,
My next affairs shall be to visit her.
Purs. Our case is otherwise. Our next affairs
Is to betake us to our beads and prayers.
Clin. Be as be may, base Fortune I defy ;'
We bravely livM; and 1*11 as boldly die.
Youna For. Hoist sail for England, with our long-wish'd
prize,
Whilst we applaud that Fortune he defies. [Esoewit.
ACT V. SCENE L
Old HARDING'S House. Enter Old HARDING, Mrs. HARDING,
FOSTER, GOODWIN, WILLIAM, JOHN, PHILIP, and SUSAN,
the two last setting forth a table.
Old Hwr. You are welcome, gentlemen. Gome, take your
places
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 63
As your degrees are. Wife, the chair is your*s.
My loving boys, sit. Let the servants wait.
John. Brother, that's you.
Old Har. This day I do entreat you, gentlemen,
After the tablets ended, to be witness
Unto some deeds that must inherit these,
And him that is my eldest quite disable ;
To which I must entreat your friendly hands.
Fos. Mine is still at your service.
Good. So is mine, sir.
WiL Oh, day long-lookM for !
John. Now shall we live like two young emperors. Oh,
day worthy to be writ in the almanack in red letters, for a
most famous holyday !
Phil. Well, jest on, gentlemen : when all is tried,
I hope my patience will exceed your pride.
WiL Wait at my elbow with a clean trencher, Phil. Do
your duty, and have your due. You know your place. Be
ready with a glass of beer, and when I say fill, fill.
Enter the CLOWN.
Clown. If please your worship, here is a manner or a kind
of some fowl desires to have some conference with you.
Old Har. A sea-fowl !
Clown. Yes, a sea-gull. I mean a mariner. He says he
hath some news to tell you from my mistress her brother at
sea.
Old Har. Touching my venture. Prithee, guide him in.
Clown. He smells, as they say, of pitch and tar. If you
will have him to perfume the room with his sea-musk, I'll
shew him the way instantly.
Old Hard. I prithee do, and that with expedition.
Mrs. H. I did not look thus soon to hear from him.
Old Hard. I fear some strange mishap hath late befalFn
him.
64? FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Enter SAILOR and CLOWN.
Mrs. H. Now, honest friend., the news ! How fares my
brother!
Old Hard. How doth my venture prosper ?
Sail. Sir, your ship is taken, all your goods by pirates
seized,
Your brotlier prisoner, and of all your venture
There's not the value of one penny sav'd.
Old Hard. That news hath pierc'd my soul, and entered me
Quite through my heart : Tm on the sudden sick,
Sick of (I fear) a mortal malady. Oh, oh !
John. How is it with my father ?
Old Hard. Worse and worse.
The news of such a great and weighty loss
TT ilia all my vitals in me.
Wil. Father ! for Heaven's sake, father, die not yet, before
you have made over your land.
John. That were a jest, indeed ! why, father, father 1
Old Hard. Trouble me not. If I survive this night,
You two shall be my heirs.
Wil. This night, if it be thy will.
Mrs. H. Alas ! how fere you, sir ?
John. Take courage, father.
Old Hard. Son, lead me hence, and bear me to my bed.
My strength doth fail ; I cannot help myself.
Wil. Eun, run for the writings. They are ready drawn at
the scrivener's. Bid him bring them quickly, with a ven-
gance.
Old Hard. Let them alone. My hand hath not the strength
To guide my pen. Let them alone, I say.
Support me to my bed ; and, my kind neighbours,
Assist me with your pray'rs ; for, I divine,
My soul this night shall amongst angels shine.
John. Marry, Heaven forbid 1 Can he find no time to
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 65
die but now ! Come, let's in 5 and haunt his ghost about the
writings. \Exeunt.
Man&it GOODWIN and FOSTER.
Fo8. 'Tis strange the bare report of such a loss
Should strike a man so deepl y to the heart 1
Good. I oft have read the like. How some have died
With sudden joy, some with exceeding grief.
Fos. If he should die intestate, all the land
Falls to the elder brother ; and the younger
Have nothing, save mere from his courtesy.
Good. I know it, neither lands nor moveables.
Come, let us hear what further news within.
Enter the CLOWN.
Clown. O, my master, my master ! what shall I do for my
poor master ! the kind churl is departed i never did poor hard-
hearted wretch pass out of the world so like a lamb ! alas !
for my poor, usuring, extortioning master! many an old
widow hast thou turned into the street, and many an orphan
made beg their bread ! Oh, my sweet, cruel, kind, pitiless,
loving, hard-hearted master ! he's dead ; he's dead ; he's gone ;
he's fled ; and now full low must lie his head ! Oh, my sweet,
vile, kind, flinty, mild, uncharitable master !
Fos. Dead on the sudden ? 'tis exceeding strange !
Yet for the eldest son it happens well.
Good. Ill for the younger brother.
Enter WILLIAM and JOHN,
WiL Jack !
John. Will!
WiL The land's gone.
John. Father's dead.
WiL We have made a fair hand on't, have we not ? who
shall fill the glass now ? and wait upon our trenchers ?
p
66 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
John. Nay, who must go to plough, and make clean the
hen-roost, rnb horse-heels, lead the wains, remove the billets,
cleanse the shoes 5 and, indeed, who must do all the drudgery
about the house ?
Wil. Could he find no time to die but now ? I could even
cry for anger. Here they come !
Enter PHILIP and SUSAN, well habited, the former with bags of
money, Mrs. HARDING, and others.
Phil My father's dead.
Sirs. H. Alas ! for my dear husband !
Phil. Comfort yourself 5 altho' he die intestate,
It shall not hurt you. We have found you kind,
And shall be now as willing to requite you,
As able. How now, brothers ! do you weep ?
And bear a part with us in heaviness ?
No, no ' 9 your griefs and ours are contrary.
I grieve IVe lost a father \ she a husband !
This doth not move you : you lamenting stand,
Not for a father's loss, but loss of land.
Do you remember with what rude despight,
What base contempt, and slavish contumely,
You have despised me and my dear-IoVd wife ?
John. We partly remember it.
Phil So do not I.
I have forgot it quite. In sign whereof,
Though had you got my lands, Heaven knows how ill
You would have dealt with me, thus Til use you.
Receive your patrimony. [gives them the bays.
Clown. No more fellow Phil now; but here receive your
proportions !
Phil. Your diet if you please is at my table,
Or where you please, if you refuse my kindness.
Wil. Kindness unlooFd for ! thanks, gentle brother.
John. Why, this gold will never be spent.
FORTUNE BY LAXD AND SEA. 67
Clown. Oh, it is an easy thing to bring this mountain to a
mole-hill.
John* This is more of your courtesy, than our deserving.
To trouble your table, being so many ordinaries in town, were
somewhat superfluous.
Phil. SpenoTbut in compass. Rioting eschew.
Waste not, but seek ^increase, your patrimony.
Beware of dice and women. Company
With men of best desert and quality.
Lay but these words into your hearts enrolled ;
You 1 !! find them better than these bags of gold.
Wil. Thanks for your coin and counsel. Come, Jack, this
shall be lavished among the suburbs. Here's drink-money,
dice-money, and drab-money. Kerens money by the back,
and money by the belly. Here's that shall make us merry
in claret, muskadine, and sherry. Farewell, brother !
John. My most bounteous brother.
[Exeunt.
Cloicn. Farewell, young masters.
Phil, (to GOOD, and Fos.) And now my vile friends, such
as fawn on plenty !
And cannot bear the very name of want !
Clown. We havo found the mine now.
Phil. You that disabled onco the power of Heaven,
And scorned my state, unable to be raised !
Clown. You see, here's your tale and your talesman.
Phil. Take heed, lest here, for your unthaiikfulness,
That which once raised do not remove your estates.
God be -with you ! henceforth, however you speed,
Trust not in riches, and despise not need.
Clown. One threescore pound will do it.
[Etceunt GOODWIN and FOSTER.
Phil. Mother, the thirds of all my father's lands
Are yourX with whatsoever you like else.
And now, sweet Sue ! it glads me I shall make thee
F 2
68 FORTUXE BY LASD AND SEA.
Partner of all this plenty, that bor'st part
With me in all extreme necessities.
Sits. You're all my wealth ; nor can I taste of want,
Whilst I keep you. 0, would these fortunes raise
My downcast father, or repeal my brother,
My banished brother, to his native home,
I were in all my thoughts at peace with Heaven !
PJdl. All that I have is their's. My only sorrow,
Jfext to my father, is in part for them,
And next for your dear brother (to Mrs. HARDING) ta^en at
sea,
Whose loss, if he survive, we will repair,
EVn with the best of our ability.
But come unto our fathers burial first,
Whom, tho^ his life brought sorrow, death content,
We cannot but with funeral tears lament.
Clown. And now no fellows, unless it be at foot- ball.
[Exeunt PHIL., SUSAN, and CLOWN.
JUrs. H. Heaven, being just, could not deal longer roughly
With one so virtuous and completely honest.
He merits all he hath. But to my state :
I am at once doubly unfortunate :
I have lost a husband and a brother, too.
Enter MERCHANT.
Merck. A husband, sister, but no brother. Lo !
That brother lives.
Mrs. H. And can it, heaven, be so ?
Merck. You are the cause I live.
JUr*. H. I, brother? how?
Tidings were brought into this place but now
Your ship was spoilM you prisoner.
Merck. And "'twas true :
Yet, all these losses I regained by you.
Mrs. H. Bv me ?
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 69
Merck. By you. And, sister, thus it was :
You sav'd the life of a young gentleman,
Whom for your sake I furnished out to sea.
He, when rny ship was taken, I surprised,
And bound, and cast in hold, restored my fortunes,
And, besides, all my merchandize restored,
Wherein you bare chief venture, made me sharer
Of the rich pirates' 1 prize.
Mrs. H. That gentleman ?
Merck. The self same, in whose life, you
Did save yourself some thousand pounds, I have.
As farther token of his gratitude,
In this choice jewel he commends to you
Millions of gratulations and kind thanks,
Besides unto his sister store of gold,
To redeem her wretched husband and herself
From my deceased brother's slavery.
Which now I see pale death hath done for them.
Mrs. H. You speak of unexpected novelties,
With which we will acquaint their sorrowful souls.
These tokens will be joyful to them both,
And tidings of his safety welcomer
Than that, great sum by him regained at sea.
Merck. We do them wrong to keep news of such joy
So long from them, which weTl no longer smother.
Two thousand pounds I bring you, and a brother. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Near Execution Dock. Enter the Sheri/8 ; the Marshal of the
Admiralty, with the Siher Oar; PURSER and CLINTON,
going to execution.
Purs. Now, how is it with thee, Clinton ?
Clm. Well, well.
Purs. But was't not better when we reign'd as lords.
70 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Nny, knurs, at sea J the ocean was our realm ;
And tlie light billows in the which we saiFd
Our hundreds, nay, our shires, and provinces,
That brought us annual profit. Those were days.
Ctix. Yes, golden days ; but now our last night's come,
And we must sleep in darkness.
Purs. Worthy mate,
We have a flash left of some half-hour long,
That let us burn out bravely ; not behind us
Leave a black, noisome snuff of cowardice
In the nostrils of our noble countrymen.
Let's die no base example,
Clin. Thinks Tom Watton,
Whom storms could never move nor tempests daunt,
Hocks terrify, nor swallowing golplis affright,
To whom the base abyss in roughest rage
SIiewM like a pleasant garden in a calm,
And the sea-monsters but like beasts at land
Of profit or pleasure, Clinton can be affrighted
With a halter ? Hemp him strangle that thinks of him
So basely !
Purs. In that word thou hast put a second sentence
Of our lives. Yet, Clinton, never wast my thoughts of
thee.
Oh, the naval triumphs thou and I have seen,
Nay, ourselves made, when on the seas at once
Have been as many bonfires, as in towns
Kindled upon a night of jubilee ;
As many ordnance thundering in the clouds
As at kings 1 coronations 5 and dead bodies
Heaved from the hatches, and cast overboard,
As fast and thick as in some common pest,
When the plague sweeps cities.
Clin. That it had swept us then, too ! So the seas
Had been to us a glorious monument,
FOBTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 71
Where now the fetes have cast us on the shelf,
To hang 'twixt air and water.
Sher. Gentlemen,
Your limited hour draws nigh.
Purs. Ay, that's the plague we spoke of \ yet no greater
Than some before have tasted ; and hereafter
Many be bound to suffer \ and if Purser
(As dying men do seldom deem amiss)
Presage not wrong, how many gallant spirits.
Equal with us in feme, shall this gulph swallow,
And make this silver oar to blush in blood !
How many captains that have aw^d the seas,
Shall fall on this unfortunate piece of land !
Some that commanded islands ; some to whom
The Indian mines paid tribute, the Turk vaiTd !
But when we that have quak'd, nay, troubled floods,
And made armadoes fly before our stream,
Shall founder thus, be split and lost,
Then be it no impeachment to their feme,
Since Purser and bold Clinton did the same !
CKn. What, is our ship well tackled ? We may launch
Upon this desperate voyage !
Hang. Corded bravely.
Purs. Call up the boatswain ! Soundly lash the slave
With a rope's end. Have him unto the chest,
Or duck him at the main-yard.
Hang, Have me to the chest ? I must first have you to the
gallows. And for ducking, I am afraid I shall see you ducked
and draked too.
Purs. Oh, you brave navigators, that have seen,
Or ever had yourselves, command aboard,
That knew our empire there, and our fall now,
Pity at least us that are made the scorn
Of a base common hangman !
Sher. Thou dost ill to offend them at their deaths.
72 FORTUra BY LAND AND SEA.
Hang. I have, and long to make an end of them.
Purs. Hadst thon but two months since wrinkled a brow,
Look'd but askew, much less unloosed thy lips
To speak Speak, said 1 1 nay, but lodg'd a thought
Or murmur of the least affront to us,
Thee, basest of all worms'-meat, I had made
Unwholesome food for haddocks ! But I ha' done*
din. Enough, Tom Watton, with these sheets, not sails,
A stiff gale blows to split us on yon rock.
Purs. And set sail from the fatal Marshal seas, and Wap-
ping is our harbour, a quicksand that shall swallow many a
brave marine-soldier, of whose valour, experience, skill, and
naval discipline, (being lost) I wish this land may never
have need ! But what star must we sail by ? or what com-
pass?
Hang. I know not the star : but here's your compass.
(shewing the rope.)
Purs, Yes, that way points the needle. That way we steer
a sad course, plague of the pilot ! Hear you, Mr. Sheriff \
you see we wear good clothes : they are paid for and our own.
Then give us leave our own amongst our friends to dis-
tribute. There's sir, for you. (gives coat and hat to his fol-
lowers.)
Clin. And you, (does the like.)
Purs. The workman that made them took never measure on
a hangman's back. Wear them for our sakes, and remember
us. There's some content for him, too.
(Gins money to the Hangman.)
Hang. Thank your worships.
Clin. I would your knaveship had our worships' place,
If hanging now be held so worshipful.
Pwrs. But now our sun is setting : night comes on.
The wat'ry wilderness o'er which we reigned
Proves in our ruins peaceful. Merchants trade
Fearless abroad as in the river's mouth,
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 73
And free as in a harbour. Then, fair Thames,
Queen of fresh water, famous thro"* the world,
And not the least thro' us, whose double tides
Must overflow our bodies \ and, being dead,
May thy clear waves our scandals wash away,
But keep our valours living ! Now, lead on.
Clinton ! thus, arm in arm, let's march to death 5
And, wheresoever our names are memorizM,
The world report two valiant pirates fell,
Shot betwixt wind and water. So farewell !
[Exeunt in procession.
SCENE III.
Old HARDING'S House. Ettfer Old FORREST and Young
FORREST.
Old For. A father's blessing, more than all thy honours,
Crown thee, and make thy fortunes growing still !
Oh, heav'ns ! I shall be too importunate
To ask more earthly favours at your hands,
Now that you, after all these miseries,
Have still reserved my son safe and unscorn'd.
Besides thy pardon and thy country's freedom,
What favours hath her Grace conferred on thee !
Young For. More than my pardon and the meed proposed,
To grace the rest, she styPd me with the Order
Of Knighthood ; and, for the service of my country,
With promise of employments of more weight.
The pirates were committed to the Marshalsea,
Condemned already, and this day to die.
And now, as part of my neglected duty,
It rests I visit that fair gentlewoman
To whom I stand indebted for my life.
That necessary duty once performed,
74 FOBTUXE BY LAND AND SEA.
Out of my present fortunes, to distribute
Some present comfort to my sister's -wants.
Old For. A grateful friend thou art, a kind, dear brother.
And a most loving son.
Enter 3Irs. HARDING, PHILIP, SCSAN, and Merchant.
Phil. Sir, more than all these fortunes now befalTn me,
A fate midst all disaster unexpected,
ily rioble brother's late success at sea
Hath filFd me with a surplusage of joy.
Nor am I least of all endear'd to you,
To be the first reporter*
Merck. ""Tis most true j
And I the man that in the most distress
Had first share of his bounty.
Mrs. H. Of his goodness
We have had sufficient taste already ;
But to be made more happy in his sight
Would plenally rejoice us.
Sus. It -would prove
Like surfeit after sweetmeats.
Young For. See all my friends ; but first let me salute
Her to whom I am most bound.
Sus. My most dear father !
Old For. My blessing, meeting with a husband's love,
Make thy years long and happy !
Mrs. H. (to Young FOR.) You are most grateful,
And much beyond rny merit.
Sus. 0, spare me, sir !
To fly into his arms that hath so long
Fled from me !
Young For. My sweet sister !
Phil. Bar me not all the blest fruition
Of what in part youVe tasted. Sir, I am one
Amongst the rest that love you.
FORTUNE BY LAND A> Y D SEA. 75
Young For. I take't, my sister's husband I unto mo
Therefore one most intii^d.
Mercli. Sir, the same;
And I, tho" last in my acknowledgment,
Yet first in due arrearage.
Young For. You I know
To be a worthy merchant, and my friend,
To whose, next to your sister's, courtesy
I stand engaged most for a forfeit life.
But him, next to the Powers divine above,
I ever must adore. And now, fair creature,
I dare more boldly look upon the face
Of your good man than when I saw you last.
Merck. And that's some question.
Young For. Wherefore hath that word
Struck you with sudden sadness ?
Mrs. H. My husband \
Phil. He's late dead, and yet hath left her
None of the poorest widows.
Young For. Dead, did you say ?
And I a bachelor I now on whom better
Or justlier can I confer myself
Than to be her's by whom I have my being,
And live to her that freely gave me life ?
There is a providence that prompts me to\
And I will give it motion. Gentle lady,
By you I am, and what I am by you
Be then to me, as I have styFd you last,
A Lady J Heavens have made you my preserver,
To preserve me for yourself $ losing a husband,
Who knows but you have sav'd me to that end,
That lost name to recover? and by me
Sweet interchange and double gratitude ?
I left you sped, but find you now despoiPd.
76 FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA.
Married, you ventured for my single life,
WidowM, by me to gain the name of wife.
Merck. What, pause at the motion ! You are not
My sister, if you deny him.
PML Let me plead for him.
Sus. 0, doubly link me to you I be you styFd
My brother and my father.
Old For. With you let my age join, and make me proud
To say that, in my last of days, barren of issue,
I have got so fair a daughter.
Tounff For. Sweet, your answer !
Mrs. H. Sir, I should much mistake my own fair ends,
Should I alone withstand so many friends.
I am yourX and only so.
Young For. I your's the same ;
And, Lady, now I kiss you by that name.
Enter CLOWN.
Clown. What, kissing already ! then I smell another wedding
towards ; and in no fitter time than now. Prepare yourselves,
gentlemen and gentlewomen. Make a hall ! for I come to
present you with a mask.
Phil. What mask !
Cloien* Not such as ladies wear upon their faces, to keep the
foul from the fair j but a plain mask, or rather more properly
I may call it a mumming, because the presenters have scarce
a word to speak for themselves.
Phil. If there be any that appear as friends,
And come to grace our feast in courtesy,
Admit 'em, prithee.
Clown. That shall I, sir, and with all expedition,
And that without drum, without fife, or musician.
Enter WILLIAM, JOHN, GOODWIN, and FOSTER.
These two lines shall serve for the prologue. Now enter,
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 77
Scenaprima Dramatis personce. These be tlie actors. Yet
let me entreat you not to condemn them before you hear them
speak.
Phil. Amazement startles me. Are these my brothers ?
Clown. By the father's side, it should seem ; for you know
he was a hard man ; and, it should seem, 'tis but a hard world
with them.
PhiL And these my false friends, that distrusted Heaven,
And put their faith in riches ? I pray, gentlemeD,
How comes this change 3
John. How comes this change, say you? no change of
pastures, which they say makes fat calves, but change of drink,
change of women, change of ordinaries, change of gaming, and
one wench in the Change all these help n d to make this change
in us.
Wil. And change is no robbery. I have been robbed, but
not at ruff ; yet they that have robbed, you see, what a poor
stock they have left me, A whore stole away my maidenhead ;
ill company my good conditions ; a broker robbed me of my
apparel ; drink of my wits ; and dice of my money.
PhiL This is no more than expectation.
But how come you thus altered ?
(70 GOODWIN and, FOSTER.)
Clown. If you had said haltered, sir, you * id gone more
roundly to the business.
Fos. Sir, there was coining laid to my charge, for which
(tho** I acquit myself) I made my estate over unto a friend, (for
so T thought him) but now he has cozen'd me, and turned me
out of all.
Good. In dead of night my counting-house was broke ope
by thieves, and all my coin (which was my whole estate and
the god I then did trust in) stole away ; I left a forlorn beggar.
PhiL Oh, wondrous ! why, this passes !
Clown. It may pass among the rest for a scurvy jest ; but
never like Mother Passes ale ; for that was knighted.
78 FOBTfXE BY LAM) AM) SEA*
JArdL Ale knighted? how, I prithee?
Clown. You have heard of ale-knights : therefore it is not
improbable that ale may be knighted.
Merck. Thy reason.
Ckitii. Why, there is ale in the town that passes from man
to man, from lip to lip, and from nose to nose. Cut Mother
Pass's double ale, I assure you, sir, sir-passes; therefore
knighted.
Phil Leaye trifling ; for more serious is the object
OflerM before our eyes. In these, HeavVs justice ;
In these a most remarkable precedent
To teach, within our height to know oursekes !
Of which I make this use. You are my brothers,
(A name you once disdained to call me by)
Your wants shall be relieved. You that distrusted
HeayVs providence, and made a mock of want
And other's misery, no more deride !
Pait of y OUT loss shall be by me supplied,
According to my power.
Young For. My noble brother !
You teach us yirtue j of which I could wish
All those that see good days make happy use.
So those distressed; for both there's precedent*
But to our present nuptials, Eeyerend fother !
Dear lady ! Sister ! Friend ! Nay, Brothers too !
But you, sir, (to PHILIP) most conjoined and endeared !
In us, the world may see our fates well scanned :
Fortune in me by Sea, in you, by Land. [Exeunt omncs.
Fim
NOTES.
Page 6, line 17. Nor wound, to ask your pardon.] Id est, Nor if
you should be wounded.
Page 7, line 30, and presumes he will not fail.] This should be
"And I presume."
Page 18, line 14. Betwixt us play the sticklers.] The sticklers were
the moderators of a combat, Mr. Steevens thinks from their carrying sticks,
but Mr. Nares from the verb to stickle, to arbitrate. The expression,
" with his shop-club," in this passage, seems to favour the former inter-
pretation. Many examples might be found, but we always prefer one
from Shakespeare :
"The dragon- wing of iNTight overspreads the earth,
And, stickler-like^ the armies separates."
Trollus and Cressida, act v., sc. 9.
Page 19, line 8. Our gentry baffled.] For gentility.
Page 20, line 3. Fail the place, or suit your weapon's length.] I
cannot understand this. Young Forrest must mean that he will not fail,
either to meet Rainsford at the place, or to suit his weapon's length.
Page 23, line 24. Something hath some savour.] This is the half
of an old proverb. The whole of it is in Swift's Polite Conversation :
" Something has some savour, but nothing has no flavour."
Page 21, line 34, the four bare legs that belong to a bed.] In Swift's
Polite Conversation, we have : " Consider, Mr. Neverout, four bare legs
in a bed ; and you are a younger brother."
Page 26, line 12. I'll go teach you hayt and reeJ] "In the eastern
counties, according to Forby and Moore, the ejaculation Hctit-wo ! or
Height! is now used only to turn a cart-horse to the left; and Reef is
given by the latter as a command, which causes a movement to the right.
80 NOTES.
In Yorkshire, for gee-oo, the carters say Jilte and ree. Height nor ree,
neither go nor drive, spoken of a wilful person." Way's Promptorium,
in v. Hayht.
The earliest Latin Dictionary makes the best old English glossary.
In hash's Summer's Last Witt and Testament, 1600, is another account
ohay-ree
"Harvest. Hay, God's plenty, which was so sweet and so good, that
when I jerted my whip, and said to my horses but hay, they would go
as they were mad.
Summer. But hay alone thou say'st not, hut hay and ree.
" Harvest. I sing hay-ree, that is, hay and rye, meaning that they
gha?1 have hay and rye, their belly-fulls, if they will draw hard."
In the old Enterlude of "John Bon and Mast Person" we see the
words in action :
" With haight, black Hah !
Have again, Bald, before, hayght, ree, whoo !
Cheerly, boy : come off, that homeward we may go."
Page 30, line 29. And hand to hand ? In single opposition.] " In
single opposition, hand to hand," is aline from Shakespeare's I Henry IV.,
act L, scene 3. Heywood was fond of quoting the great master; and
Rowley has the same line in Webster's and his Thracian Wonder, act v.,
scene2.
Page 31, line 25. Of some that swiftly ran towards your fields.] We
have here an answer to the Rev. A. Dyce's question, in his Remarks on
Mr. Collier's Shakespeare : " Could Mr. Collier, in any English writer,
point out an example of the expression some of worth being employed
for some person ? He certainly could not. * Some of worth ' (in
Pericles, act v., sc. 1) cannot possibly mean 'some single person of
worth:* it can have no other meaning than ' some persons of worth.'"
And see Sylvester's Du Bartas, JiuRth, book 6. Let us all learn diffi-
dence in our comments upon each other, even though we may be as well-
readasMr. Dyce! Quis est tarn lynceus, qui in tantis tenebris
Page38,Iinel. All ways are laid.] So in IT. Henry IV., act iv., scene 10.
"Jack Cade. These five days have I hid me in these woods, and durst
not peep out, for all the country is laid for me."
XOTES. 81
Page 39, line 12. Unlesss to Cold Harbour.] Stow mentions a
great house called Cold Harbrough ; and says, " Touching this Cold
Harbrough, I find that, in the 13th of Edward II, Sir John Abel,
knight, demised or let unto Henry Snow, draper, all that his capital
messuage called the Cold Harbrough, in the Parish of All Saints,
adfcenum" He then traces it into the hands of Sir John Poultney,
in the reign of Edward HI., who being four times mayor, he said
house took the name of Poultney's Inn. He conveyed it to Humfrey
de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Essex. In 1397, John Holland,
Earl of Huntingdon, was lodged there, and Richard 31., his brother,
dined with him. It was then counted a right fair and stately house; but
in the next year following, Edmund Earl of Cambridge was there lodged,
notwithstanding the said house still retained the name of Poultney' a Inn
in the reign of Henry VL It belonged since to H. Holland, Duke of
Excester, and he was lodged there in 1472. In 1485, Richard ILL, by his
letters patent, granted and gave to John Urith, alias Garter, principal
king of arms of Englishmen, and to the rest of the king's heralds and
pursuivants of arms, all that messuage, with the appurtenances called
Cold Harbrough, in the parish of All Saints the Little, in London, and
their successors for ever, without fine or fee. How the said heralds
departed therewith Stow had not read ; but in the reign of Henry VIET,
the Bishop of Durham's house, near Charing Cross, being taken into the
king's hand, Cuthbert Tunstal, Bishop of Durham, was lodged in this
Cold Harbrough, since the which tune it hath belonged to the Earls of
Shrewsbury, by composition (as is supposed) from the said Cuthbert
Tunstal. " The last deceased earl" (concludes Stow) "took it down,
and in place thereof built a great number of small tenements, now letten
out for great rents to people of all sorts."
" Coal Harbour " is several times alluded to in Mddleton's play of A
Trick to catch the Old one, as a sort of sanctuary from arrest, and place
where irregular marriages were performed; and I believe there is now in
Upper Thames Street a place called Cold-harbour Lane. But when our
'worthy Treasurer shall publish his Murray's Hand-book for London, we
shall know all about these things.
Page 42, line 21, Gentry and baseness in all ages jar;
And poverty and wealth are still at war.]
o
THE
FIRST AND SECOND PARTS
OF
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST;
OR,
A GIRL WOETH GOLD.
TWO COMEDIES
BY
THOMAS HEYWOOD.
WITH Atf INTRODUCTION AND NOTES,
BT
J. PAYNE COLLIEB, ESQ.
LONDON:
FEINTED FOB THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY.
1850.
COUNCIL
THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY
THE EARL OF ELLESMERE.
THE EARL OF CLARENDON.
THE EARL OF GLENGALL.
THE EARL HOWE.
THE RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE.
THE RT. HON. LORD LEIGH.
Council.
THOMAS AMYOT, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
WILLIAM AYRTON, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
BAYLE BERNARD, ESQ.
THE RIGHT HON. THE VICE-CHANCELLOR SIR JAMES
KNIGHT BRUCE, F.R.S., F.S.A.
JOHN BRUCE, ESQ., TREAS. S.A.
J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ., V.P. S.A., DIRECTOR.
BOLTON CORNEY, ESQ., M.R.S.L.
PETER CUNNINGHAM, ESQ., TREASURER.
SIR HENRY ELLIS, K.H., PRINCIPAL LIBRARIAN OF
THE BRITISH MUSEUM, F.R.S., F.S.A.
JOHN FORSTER, ESQ.
J. O. HALLIWELL, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
THE REV. WILLIAM HARNESS.
SWYNFEN JERVIS, ESQ.
CHARLES KNIGHT, ESQ.
SIR E. BULWER LYTTON, BART.
WILLIAM C. MACREADY, ESQ.
T. J. PETTIGREW, ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A.
SIR T. NOON TALFOURD, D.C.L.
WILLIAM JOHN THOMS, ESQ., F.S.A.
THOMAS THOMSON, ESQ., M.D.
F, GUEST TOMLINS, ESQ., SECRETARY.
The Council of the Shakespeare Society desire it to be understood
that they are not answerable for any opinions or observations that
may appear in the Society's publications; the Editors of the several
works being alone responsible for the same.
INTRODUCTION.
Under the editorial care of the late Mr. Barron
Field, the Shakespeare Society has already reprinted
four plays, in the composition of three of "which
Thomas Heywood alone was concerned, while in the
fourth he had the assistance of his contemporary,
William Rowley. These reprints came out respec-
tively in 1842 and 1846; and in 1847 the Council
had the misfortune to lose an able and willing asso-
ciate, and the Editor of the present volume an early
and zealous Mend.
In conformity with the declared intention of the
Council of the Shakespeare Society, it was the wish,
of Mr. Field to have continued his labours through
the other dramatic works of Thomas Heywood; but
death having rendered it necessary that the task
should devolve into other hands, the present Editor
has been called upon to complete what was left
imperfect. It will now, therefore, be his duty from
time to time, as the funds and more immediate pur-
poses of the Society will allow, to prepare the re-
maining plays of this fine old dramatist for repub-
lication.
vi IXTBODUCTION.
With this design, the two parts of " The Fair Maid
of the West," constituting distinct plays, have been
put to press; and in performing his duty, as re-
gards them, the Editor has in general followed the
system pursued by Mr. Field : he has done so, both
for the sake of consistency, and because it appeared
to Tnm that it was not, in its principal features,
capable of much improvement. Like Mr. Field, he
has avoided the inconvenience of foot-notes, which
usually distract attention from the progress of the plot
and from the poetry of the scene, and he has added
such explanations of passages or words, as seemed
requisite, at the end of each play: thus, should any
difficulty occur to the reader as he proceeds, he has
nothing to do but to refer to the page and line in the
notes, to have it removed, as far as the knowledge of
the Editor extended. In one minor particular he
has, he hopes, improved upon the ordinary plan; for
he has thought it at all times advisable to put his
information in the shortest compass. He has thus
excluded many quotations where one would answer
the purpose, deeming it a useless consumption of
spa^e to multiply authorities, when a single apposite
passage would answer the purpose. In cases of appeal
to well known works, all that is really wanted is a
clear and accurate reference.
He may be allowed, perhaps^ to say, after some
experience, that it seems to Trim to have been the pre-
vailing error of editorship, both as regards Shake-
speare and his contemporaries, never to consider a
point established, as long as any proof to the same
INTRODUCTION. Til
effect could be produced* The vanity of displaying
extensive reading, and of citing recondite authorities,
has mainly led to the introduction of this surplusage :
the only information thus gained by the reader con-
sists of a knowledge of what books had been con-
sulted; and even this was delusive, since second-hand
quotations were often made to bear the appearance
of original research.
In the two following dramas, immediately connected
in subject, the reader is put, as nearly as possible, in
possession of the text of the author. It is evident,
from the prefatory matter, that Heywood was a con-
senting party to the printing of " The Fair Maid of
the West," in the old edition; and there is reason to
believe that he superintended the work through the
press: nevertheless, he was guilty of not a few
strange oversights, and permitted many printer's
errors to remain : these it was, of course, necessary
to set right. The divisions of the acts, in our im-
pression, are such as they appear in the old copy;
but there the scenes, though usually in some way
distinguished, are not marked and numbered in the
ordinary manner. When a change of place occurred,
especially if it were of any importance in the develop-
ment of the plot, it was the custom of our old drama-
tists (in the deficiency of scenery and in the simplicity
of other stage contrivances) to take care very early,
generally in the first speech, to convey the required
information, directly or indirectly^ to the audience.
The two following plays afford abundant instances of
rapid alterations of the scene of action, and of as fre-
Till INTRODUCTION.
queiit appeals, tlierefore, to the imaginations of the
spectators : in Act IV., it is transferred at once from
Cornwall to Morocco, and from Morocco to the
Azores; but nobody is kept for more than a moment
in suspense as to the place represented. This in-
artificial construction we have preserved, as a cha-
racteristic of the stage at the time; but, where it
has seemed at all necessary to give additional expla-
nation, we have ventured a hint of it in our notes,
and have thus been able, as we trust, without making
any variations in the arrangement of the scenes, or
inserting any needless divisions, to render the pro-
gress of tlie story perfectly intelligible.
Our object has been not unnecessarily to intermingle
our own handiwork, but to leave the whole drama as
we may suppose Heywood would have left it; and to
this system we shall endeavour in future to adhere.
"We have done nothing more than may be said to be
required in our day, when the plays are not in a
course of representation.
With the precise origin of the plot of " The Fair
Maid of the West" we are not acquainted; but we
have little doubt, from the usual habit of dramatists
of Heywood's time, that both plays were founded upr +
some popular narrative or tradition, now lost, contain-
ing the romantic incidents represented in action and
dialogue. They were printed together, in the usual
quarto form, in 1631; and we know that they were
in existence in 1617, when an attack was made upon
the Cock-pit theatre, in Drury Lane, where they had
been frequently acted. (Hist. Engl. Dram, Poetry
INTRODUCTION. IX
and the Stage, i., 403.) There is no doubt that they
long continued popular performances; and we may
imagine that a printed edition of them was called for,
because their reputation had led to their recent per-
formance before the King and Queen. The Pro-
logues and Epilogues reprinted by us were such as
were written for this occasion, and the fact is men-
tioned on the original title-page.
Great and many allowances must be made for the
construction and conduct of the story : what would
tell extremely well in a narrative, such as we conjec-
ture Heywood to have used, would sometimes appear
violent and improbable on the stage; and the Bio-
graphia Drainatica (i., 212) informs us that Dancer
converted (probably only re-converted) the incidents
into a novel, so well did he consider them adapted to
the purpose. The Editor also has in his possession a
long ballad in MS., founded upon the plays. Con-
sidering the difficulties with which Heywood in this
respect had to contend, (aiding himself, however, by
Chorus and dumb-show) it cannot be disputed that
lie has displayed much skill and ingenuity. The
bustle is unceasing, and attention never wearies. For
the coarseness of a small portion of the comic busi-
ness, the usual excuse must be found in the manners
of the time; and, at all events, it was not such as the
King and Queen could not sit patiently to hear, and
they perhaps listened to it with as much enjoyment
as less exalted auditors. The poetry and pathos of
some of the scenes in which the hero and heroine are
engaged cannot be too highly praised : it is extremely
X INTBODUCTION.
touching, from its truth to nature and its grac<
simplicity, without the slightest apparent effort
the part of the author. The characters are stron
drawn and clearly distinguished, while that of
heroine is admirably preserved and is constantly
tractive. Our purpose, however, is not now to ci
cise the performance,. but merely to afford such j
liminary explanations as will the better enable <
readers to enjoy it.
The versification is varied and harmonious; bu
is necessary to remark that Heywood appears to hi
been, in this particular, a somewhat careless wril
heeding little how his lines were divided in the prin
copy, as long as they came agreeably or forcibly fr<
the mouths of the actors. It seems to have been
great aim (like that of most, if not all, of his c<
temporaries) to satisfy on the stage, without thinki
of the reader : the printer, too, has not unfrequen
done his verse injustice ; and we wonder that, as 1
sheets went through the author's hands, he did i
himself regulate the lines, in many places, different
This consideration has frequently checked us, wh
otherwise we should have felt disposed to make soi
changes, merely of location, in order to render t
blank verse more conformable to ordinary ru]
upon a few, and very few, changes we have ve
tared; but it is quite evident in many places, whi
we need not point out, that the omission or inserti
of a monosyllable would sometimes have restored t
measure, injured perhaps by the imperfectness of t
memory, or of the ear, of the performer. We ha
INTBODTTCTIOlSr. XI
never felt ourselves at liberty to mate the slightest
insertion or omission, without either placing the added
word within brackets, or distinctly mentioning in a
note the exclusion of a particle. The language is
Heywood's, to which we have adhered with scrupu-
lous fidelity ; and in cases of any doubt, we have pre-
ferred leaving the author's errors to the chance of
interpolating our own. 1
The Editor is anxious to say no more than is
necessary on the present occasion; because, having
undertaken the completion of an impression of Tho-
mas Heywood's dramatic works for the Shakespeare
Society, he must hereafter enter more at large into
a discussion of this dramatist's peculiar claims and
merits, both as a poet and a pkywright. Like his
contemporaries, the greatest as well as the smallest,
he was extremely unequal; but it is ever to be re-
membered that most of his productions of a dramatic
kind have come down to us, as regards the early im-
pressions, even in a much less complete and finished
state than those now presented to the reader; and
no author of the time had more reason to complain
of the pirating and surreptitious printing of his works :
he himself, elsewhere, more than once, makes it a
matter of formal remonstrance. On this account, if
on no other, the Editor cannot but be sensible of the
difficulty of the task he has to perform.
1 On p. 16, after line 4 of our reprint of the first part of "The Fair
Maid of the West, 11 it may be doubted whether a line has not been
omitted : if not, the sense seems to have been left incomplete after " Your
deceased hopes." We have given the passage exactly as it stands in the
old copy. 9
Xll INTBODUCTION.
It is necessary to add that the present volume c
pletes six of Heywood's plays, which, if the mem
of our Society think fit, maybe bound in onevoli
to which other volumes will hereafter be added* 1
we may hope, ere very long, to put forth, in a
tinuous series, all the extant dramas and pieces
dramatic character which came from the prolific
of Thomas Heywood. They will be preceded
due time, by such biographical particulars as I
come down to us, which, as our author lived thro
a long series of years, and published many bool
a miscellaneous description, are more numerous 1
might be imagined. In order that his plays, s
rately printed by our Society, may be at any 1
arranged in larger consecutive volumes, if that coi
should be deemed expedient, we have prefixed to
present publication a general title-page to Vol
followed by a list of the dramas included in it,
J, P. (
Kensington, February 12, 1850.
THE
FAIR MAID
OF THE WEST,
OB
A Girle worth gold.
The first part.
As it was lately acted before the King and Queen,
with approved liking.
By the Queen's Majesties Comedians.
Written by T. H,
LONDON,
Printed for Richard Royston, and are to be sold at his Shop
inlviejjane. 1631.
To the much worthy, and my most
respected John Othow, Esquire,
Counsellor at Law, in
the noble Society of
Grays Inn.
Sir,
Excuse tliis my boldness, (I intreat you) and let it
pass under the title of my love and respect, long devoted
unto you ; of which, if I endeavour to present the world with
a due acknowledgement, without the sordid expectation of
reward or servile imputation of flattery, I hope it will be
the rather accepted. I must ingenuously acknowledge, a
weightier argument would have better suited with your grave
employment ; but there are retirements necessarily belonging
to all the labours of the body and brain. If in such cessation
you will deign to cast an eye upon this weak and unpollished
Poem, I shall receive it as a courtesy from you, much ex-
ceeding any merit in me (my good meaning only accepted).
Thus wishing you healthful ability in body, untroubled con-
tent in mind, with happy fruition of both the temporal
felicities of the world present, and the eternal blessedness
of the life future, I still remain a^ever,
Yours, most affectionately devoted,
THOMAS HETWOOD.
To the Reader.
Courteous Reader, my Plays have not been exposed to
the public -view of the world in numerous sheets and a large
volume, but singly (as thou seest) with great modesty, and
small noise. These Comedies, bearing the title of The Fair
Maid of the West s if they prove but as gratious in thy private
reading, as they were plausible in the public acting, I shall
not much doubt of their success. Nor need they (I hope)
much fear a rugged and censorious brow from thee, on whom
the greatest and best in the kingdom have vouchsafed to
smile. I hold it no necessity to trouble thee with the Argu-
ment of the story, the matter it self lying so plainly before
thee in Acts and Scenes, without any deviations, or winding
indents.
Peruse it through, and thou may*st finde in it
Some mirth, some matter, and, perhaps, some wit.
He that would study thy content,
T. H.
Prologue.
Amongst the Grecians there were annual feasts,
To which none were invited, as chief guests,
Save Princes and their Wives. Amongst the men,
There was no argument disputed then,
But who hest governed : and (as't did appear)
He was esteem'd sole Sovereign for that year.
The Queens and Ladies argued at that time
For Vertue and for Beauty which was prime,
And she had the high honour. Two here be,
For Beauty one a the other Majesty,
Most worthy (did that custom still persever)
Not for one year, but to be Sovereigns ever. 1
1 This Prologue was, of course, delivered when the play was acted
before the Bang and Queen at Court, and not when it was performed before
an ordinary audience at a theatre.
[DRAMATIS PERSON^.]
Two Sea Captains*
3/r. Carroll^ a Gentleman.
Mr. Spencer; by Mr. MICHAEL BOTTTER.
Copt. Goodlack, Spencer's friend ; by Mr. RICH. PEHKINS.
Two Yintners' boyes.
Bess Bridges, the Fair Maid of the "West; by HUGH CLARK.
3Jr. Forset* a Gentleman ; by CHRISTOPH. GOAD.
Mr. Roua-hman, a swaggering Gentleman ; by WILLIAM SHEAKLOCK.
Clem* a drawer of wine under Bess Bridges; by Mr. WILLIAM
ROBINSON.
Three Sailors.
A Surgeon.
A Kitchen Maid ; by Mr. ANTHONY TUBNER.
The Mayor of Foy.
An Alderman and a Servant.
A Spanish Captain; by C. GOAD.
An English Merchant; by ROB. AXELL.
Mullisheg^ T^iricr o f Fesse ; by Mr. WILL. ALLEN.
Bashaw Alcade; by Mr. WILBEAHAM.
Bashaw Joffer.
Two Spanish Captains.
A French Merchant.
An Italian Merchant.
A Chorus.
The JEarZ of Essex going to Cales. The Mayor of Plymouth,
with Petitioners, Mutes personated.
THE FAIR MAID
of the West;
Or,
A Grirl worth Gold.
Enter two Captains and M r . CARKOL.
1 Capt. WJien puts my Lord to sea ?
2 Capt. When tlie -wind's fair.
Car. Hesolve me, I intreat, can you not guess
The purpose of this voyage ?
1 Capt. Most men think
The Fleet's bound for the Islands.
Carr. Nay, tis like.
The great success at Gales, under the conduct
Of such a noble Grenerall, hath put heart
Into the English: they are all on fire
To purchase from the Spaniard. If their carracks
Come deeply laden, we shall tug with them
For golden spoil.
2 Copt* O, were it come to that !
1 Capt* How Plymouth swells with gallants; how
the streets
Glister with gold ! You cannot meet a man
But tricked in scarf and feather, that it seems
As if the pride of England's gallantry
Were harbour'd here. It doth appear (methinks)
A very Court of souldiers.
8 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Carr. It doth so.
Where shall we dine to-day ?
2 Capt. At the next tavern by; there's the best wine.
1 Cap. And the best wench,, Bess Bridges ; she's the
flower
Of Plymouth held : the Castle needs no bush,
Her beauty draws to them more gallant customers
Then all the signs i'th' town else.
2 Capt. A sweet lass,
If I have any judgement.
1 Capt. Now, in troth,
I think she's honest.
Carr* Honest, and live there ?
What ! in a public tavern, where's such confluence
Of lusty and brave gallants ? Honest, said you ?
2 Capt. I vow she is, for me.
1 Capt. For all, I think. I'm sure she's wondrous
modest.
Carr. But withall
Exceeding affable.
2 Capt. ATI argument that she's not proud.
Carr. No ; were she proud, she'd fall.
1 Capt. Well, she's a most attractive adamant :
Her very beauty hath upheld that house,
And gained her master much.
Carr. That adamant
Shall for this time draw me too : well dine there.
2 Capt. No better motion. Come to the Castle, then.
Enter M T . SPENCEB and CAPT. GOODLACK,
Goodl. What I to the old house still ?
Spenc. Canst blame me, Captain ?
Believe me^ I was never surpris'd till now,
Or catch'd upon the sudden.
Goodl. Pray resolve me,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 9
Why, being a gentleman of fortune's means,
And well revenued, will you adventure thus
A doubtful! voyage, when onely such as I,
Born to no other fortunes than my sword,
Should seek abroad for pillage ?
Speno. Pillage, Captain?
No, tis for honor ; and the brave society
Of all these shining gallants, that attend
The great Lord Generall, drew me hither first ;
No hope of gain or spoil.
Goodl. Ay, but what draws you to this house so oft ?
Speno. As if thou knewst it not.
Goodl. What, Bess ?
Spenc. Even she.
Goodl. Come, I must tell you, you forget yourself^
One of your birth and breeding, thus to doat
Upon a tanner's daughter : why, her father
Sold hides in Somersetshire, and being trade-fallen,
Sent her to service.
Speno* Prithee speak no more ;
Thou tell'st me that which I would fain forget,
Or wish I had not known. If thou wilt humour me,
Tell me she's fair and honest.
Goodl. Yes, and loves you.
Speno. To forget that were to exclude the rest:
All saving that were nothing. Come, let's enter.
Enter two Drawers.
1 Draw. You are welcome, gentlemen. Shew them
into the next room there.
2 Draw. Look out a towel, and some rolls, a salt
and trenchers.
Speno. No, sir, we will not dine.
2 Draw. I am sure ye would, if you had my stomach.
What wine drink ye, sack or claret ?
10 THE PAJB MAID OF THE WEST.
Spenc. Where's Bess?
2 Draw. Marry, above, with three or four gentle-
men.
Spenc. Gro call her.
2 D. He draw you a cup of the neatest wine in
Plymouth.
Spenc. HI taste none of your drawing. Go call Bess.
2 Draw. There's nothing in the mouths of these gal-
lants, but Bess, Bess.
Spenc. "What say, sir?
2 Draw. Nothing, sir, but 111 go and call her pre-
sently.
Spew. Tell her who's here.
2 Draw. The devill rid her out of the house, for me.
Spenc. Say, sir?
2 Draw. Nothing but anon, anon, sir.
Enter BESS BRIDGES.
Spenc. See, she's come !
Bess. Sweet Mr. Spencer, y'are a stranger grown,
Where have you been these three days ?
Spenc. The last night
I sat up late at game. Here, take this bag,
And lay't up till I call for't.
Bess. Sir, I shaJL
Spenc. Bring me some wine.
Bess. I know your taste,
And I shall please your palate.
GoodL Troth, tis a pretty soul !
Spenc. To thee I will unbosom all my thoughts.
Were her low birth but equal with her beauty,
Here would I fix my thoughts.
Goodl. You are not mad, sir?
You say you love her.
Spenc. Never question that.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 11
GoodL Then put her to't, win opportunity,
She's the best bawd. If (as you say) she loves you,
She can deny you nothing.
Spenc. I have proved her
Unto the utmost test. Examin'd her,
Even to a modest force ; but all in vain :
She'll laugh, confer, keep company, discourse,
And something more, kiss : but beyond that compass
She no way can be drawn.
GoodL Tis a virtue
But seldom found in taverns.
Enter BESS, with icine.
Bess. 'Tis of the best Graves wine, sir.
Spenc. Gramercy, girl : come sit.
Bess. Pray pardon, sir, I dare not.
Spenc. I'll ha' it so.
Bess. My fellows love me not, and will complain
Of such a saucy boldness.
Spenc. Pox on your fellows !
I'll try whether their pottle pots or heads
Be harder, if I do but hear them grumble.
Sit : now, Bess, drink to me.
Bess. To your good voyage !
Enter the second Drawer.
2 Draw. Did you call, sir?
Spenc. Yes, sir, to have your absence. Captain, this
health.
GoodL Let it come, sir.
2 Draw. Must you be set, and we wait, with a .
Spenc. What say you, sir ?
2 Draw. Anon, anon : I come there. [Exit.
Spenc. What will you venture, Bess, to sea with
me?
12 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Bess. "What I love best, my heart : for I could wish
I had been born to equal you in fortune,
Or you so low, to have been rank'd with me ;
I could have then presum'd boldly to say,
I love none but my Spencer.
Spenc. Bess, I thank thee.
Keep still that hundred pound till my return
From th' Islands with my Lord : if never, wench,
Take it ; it is thine own.
Bess. You bind me to you.
Enter the first Drawer.
1 Draw. Bess, you must fill some wine into the Port-
cullis; the gentlemen there will drink none but of
your drawing.
Spenc. She shall not rise, sir. Go, let your master
snick-up.
1 D. And that should be cousin-germain to the
hick-up.
Enter the second Drawer.
2 Draw. Bess 9 yon must needs come. The gentle-
men fling pots, pottles, drawers, and all down stairs.
The whole house is in an uproar.
Bess. Pray pardon, sir, I needs must be gone.
2 D. The gentlemen swear if she come not up to
them, they will come down to her.
Spenc. If they come in peace,
Like civill gentlemen, they may be welcome :
If otherwise, let them usurp their pleasures.
We stand prepared for both.
Enter CABKOL and two Captains.
Car. Save you, gallants. We are somewhat bold, to
press
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 33
Into your company : it may be held scarce manners ;
Therefore, fit that we should crave your pardon.
Sp&nc. Sir, you are welcome ; so are your fiiends.
1 Capt. Some wine !
Bess, Pray give me leave to fill it.
Spenc. You shall not stir. So, please you, we'll
join company.
Drawer, more stools.
Car. I take't that's a she drawer. Are you of the
house?
Bess. I am, sir.
CarolL In what place?
Bess. I draw.
Car. Beer, do you not ? You are some tapstress.
Spenc. Sir, the worst character you can bestow
Upon the maid is .to draw wine.
Car. She would draw none to us.
Perhaps she keeps a rundlet for your taste.
Which none but you must pierce.
2 Capt. I pray be civiL
Spenc. I know not, gentlemen, what your intents be.
Nor do I fear, or care. This is my room ;
And if you bear you, as you seem in show,
Like gentlemen, sit and be sociable.
Car. We will Minx, by your leave. Remove, I say.
Spenc. She shall not stir.
Car. How, sir?
Spenc. No, sir. Could you outface the devil,
"We do not fear your roaring.
Car. Though you may be companion with a drudge,
It is not fit she should have place by us.
About your business, housewife.
Spenc. She is worthy
The place as the best here, and she shall keep't.
Car. You lie. [They bustle : CAKOLL slain.
14 THE FAIK MAID OF THE WEST.
Goodl. The gentleman's slain : away I
Bess. Oh, Heaven ! what have you done ?
Goodl. Undone thyself, and me too. Come away.
Seas. Oh, sad misfortune I I shall lose him ever.
What ! are yon men, or milksops ? Stand you still,
Senseless as stones, and see your friend in danger
To expire his last ?
1 Copt. Tush ! all our help's in vain.
2 Copt. This is the fruit of whores.
This mischief came through thee.
Bess. It grew first from your incivility.
1 Cap. Lend me a hand, to lift his body hence.
It was a fatal business. [Exeunt Captains.
Enter the two Draicers.
1 Dr. One call my master, another fetch the con-
stable. Here's a man killed in the room.
2 Dr. How ! a mam killed, say'st thou ? Is all paid ?
1 Dr. How fell they out, canst tell ?
2 Dr. Sure, about this bold Bettrice. 'Tis not so much
for the death of the man, but how shall we come by our
reckoning? [Exeunt Drawers.
Bess. What shall become of me ? Of all lost crea-
tures,
The most infortunate ! My innocence
Hath been the cause of blood, and I am now
Purpled with murder, though not within compass
Of the laws' severe censure : but, which most
Adds unto my affliction, I by this
Have lost so worthy and approved a friend,
Whom to redeem from exile, I would give
All that's without and in me.
Enter FOBSET.
Fors. Your name's Bess Bridges ?
THE FAIR MAID OF THE TTEST. 15
Bess. An unfortunate Maid,
Known by that name too well in Plymouth, here.
Your business, sir, with me ?
Fors. Know you this ring?
Bess. I do : it is my Spencer's.
I know, withal, you are his trusty friend,
To whom he would commit it. Speak : how fares he ?
Is he in freedom, know ye?
Fors. He's in health
Of body, though in mind somewhat perplexed
For this late mischief happened.
Bess. Is he fled, and freed from danger ?
Fors. Neither. By this token
He lovingly commends him to you, Bess,
And prays you, when/tis dark, meet him o'th' Hoe,
Near to the new-made fort, where he'll attend you,
Before he flies, to take a kind farewell.
There's only Goodlack in his company :
He entreats you not to foil him.
Bess. Tell him from me, Til come, I'll run, I'll fly,
Stand Death before me ; were I sure to die. \Exit*
Enter SPENCER and GOODLACK.
Goodl. You are too full of passion.
Spenc. Canst thou blame me,
To have the guilt of murder burden, me ;
And next, my life in hazard to a death
So ignominious ; last, to lose a love
So sweet, so fair, so amorous, and so chaste,
And all these at an instant ! Art thou sure
Carrol is dead?
Goodl. I can believe no less.
You hit him. in the very speeding place.
Spenc. Oh ! but the last of these sits neer'st my heart.
Goodl. Sir, be advised by me.
16 THE FAIB MAID OP THE WEST.
Try her, before you trust her. She, perchance,
May take th 5 advantage of your hopeful fortunes;
But when she finds you subject to distress
And casualty, her flattering love may die ;
Your deceased hopes.
Spenc. Thou counselFst well.
FU put her to the test and utmost trial,
Before I trust her farther. Here she comes.
Enter FORSET and BESS, with a bag.
Fors. I have done my message, sir.
Bess. Feare not, sweet Spencer; we are now alone,
And thou art sanctuar*d in these mine arms.
Goodl. While these confer, well sentinel their safety.
This place 111 guard.
Fors. I this.
Bess. Are you not hurt,
Or your skin ras'd with his offensive steel ?
How is it with you ?
Spenc. Bess 9 all my afflictions
Are that I must leave thee : thou know'st, withal,
My extreme necessity, and the fear
Of a most scandalous death, doth force me hence.
I am not near my country; and to stay
For new supply from thence might deeply engage me
To desperate hazard.
Bess. Is it coin you want?
Here is the hundred pound you gave me late :
Use that, beside what I have stored and saved,
Which makes it fifty more. Were it ten thousand,
Nay, a whole million, Spencer^ all were thine.
8pmo. No; what thou hast, keep still; ^tis all thine
own.
Here be my keys : my trunks take to thy charge :
Such gold fit for transportage as I have,
THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST. 1?
I'll bear along : the rest are freely thine.
Money, apparel, and what else thou find'st,
Perhaps worth my bequest and thy receiving,
I make thee mistress of.
Bess. Before, I doted;
But now you strive to have me ecstasied.
What would you have me do, in which t'express
My zeal to you ?
Spenc. Which in my chamber hangs,
My picture, I enjoin thee to keep ever ;
For when thou part'st with that, thou losest me.
Bess. My soul may from my body be divorced,
But never that from me.
Spenc. I have a house in Foy, a tavern called
The Windmill, that I freely give thee, too ;
And thither, if I live, 111 send to thee.
Bess. So soon as I have cast my reckonings up,
And made even with my master, 111 not fail
To visit Foy, in Cornwall. Is there else
Aught that you will enjoin me?
Spenc. Thou art fair :
Join to thy beauty virtue. Many suitors
I know will tempt ihee : beauty's a shrewd bait,
But unto that if thou add'st chastity,
Thou shalt o'ercome all scandal Time calls hence;
We now must part.
Bess. Oh I that I had the power to make Time lame ;
To stay the stars, or make the moon stand still ;
That future day might never haste thy flight I
I could dwell here for ever in thine arms,,
And wish it always night.
Spenc. We trifle hours. FarewelL
Bess. First take this ring:
'Twas the first token of my constant love
That past betwixt us. When I see this next,
c
18 THE FAIB MAID OP THE WEST.
And not my Spencer, I shall think thee dead ;
For till death part thy body from thy soul,
I know thou wilt not part with it.
Spenc. Swear for me, Bess ; for thou mayst safely do't.
Once more, farewell : at Foy thou shalt heare from me.
Bess. There's not a word that hath a parting sound
Which through mine ears shrills not immediate death.
I shall not live to lose thee.
Fors. Best be gone $ for hark, I hear some tread.
Spenc. A. thousand farewells are in one contracted.
Captain, away !
[Exeunt SPENCEB and GOODLACK.
Bess. Oh ! I shall die.
Fors. What mean you, Bess ? will you betray your
friend,
Or call my name in question ? Sweet, look up.
Bess. Hah, is my Spencer gone ?
Fors* With speed towards Foy,
There to take ship for FayaL
Bess. Let me recollect myself,
And what he left in charge Virtue and Chastity.
Next, with all sudden expedition
Prepare for Foy : all these will I conserve,
And keep them strictly, as I would my life.
Plymouth, farewell : in Cornwall I will prove
A second fortune, and for ever mpurn,
Until I see my Spencers safe return.
[Hautboys.
A dumb show. Enter General, Captains^ the Mayor:
Petitioners the other way, with papers ; amongst these
the Drawers. The General gives them bags of money.
All go ojfc saving the two Drawers.
1 Draw. "Us well yet we have gotten all the money
due to my master. It is the commonest thing that can
THE PAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 19
be, for these captains to score and to score ; but when
the scores are to be paid, non est inventtis.
2 Draw. "Tis ordinary amongst gallants, now-a-days,
who would rather swear forty oaths than only this one
oath Grod, let me never be trusted.
1 Draw. But if the captains would follow the noble
mind of the General, before night there would not be
one score owing in Plymouth.
2 Draw. Little knows JBess that my master hath got
in these desperate debts. But she hath cast up her
account, and is gone.
1 Draw. "Whither, canst thou tell ?
2 Draw. They say, to keep a tavern in 3Toy, and that
Mr. Spencer hath given her a stock, to set up for her-
self. Well, howsoever, I am glad, though he killed the
man, we have got our money.
Explicit Actus primus.
20 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
ACTUS SECUXDUS, SCEXA PEIMA,
Enter FOESET and
For&et. In your time have you seen a sweeter crea-
ture?
Itougkm. Some week, or thereabouts.
Fors. And in that small time she hath almost undone
all the other taverns. The gallants make no rendezvous
now but at the WindmilL
Eougkm. Spite of them, I'll have her. It shall cost
me the setting on, but 111 have her.
Fors. Why, do you think she is so easily won ?
Roughm. Easily or not, Pll bid as fair and far as any
man within twenty miles of my head, but I will put her
to the squeak.
Fors. They say there are "knights' sons already come
as suitors to her.
RougTim. 'Tis like enough, some younger brothers,
and so I intend to make them.
Fors. If these doings hold, she will grow rich in short
time. *
Roughm. There shall be doings that shall make this
"Windmill my grand seat, my mansion, my palace, and
my Constantinople.
Enter BESS BBiDGuffls, like a Mistress^ and CLEM.
Fors. Here she comes. Observe how modestly she
bears herself.
Eougkm. I must know of what burden this vessel is.
I flhaTI not bear with her till she bear with me; and till
then, I cannot report her for a woman of good carriage.
Bess. Your old master, that dwelt here before my
coming, hath turned over your years to me.
THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST. 21
Clem. Right, forsooth : before he was a vintner, he
was a shoemaker, and left two or three turnovers more
besides myself.
Bess. How long hast thou to serve?
Clem. But eleven years, next grass, and then I am in
hope of my freedom. For by that time I shall be at
full age.
Bess. How old art thou now ?
Clem. Forsooth, newly come into my teens. I have
scraped trenchers this two years, and the next vintage
I hope to be bar-boy.
Bess. What's thy name ?
Clem. My name is Clem: my father was a baker;
and, by the report of his neighbours, as honest a man
as ever lived by bread.
Bess. And where dwelt he ?
Clem. Below here, in the next crooked street, at the
sign of the Leg. He was nothing so tall as I ; but a
little wee man, and somewhat huck-backed.
Bess. He was once constable?
Clem. He was, indeed; and in that one year of his
reign, I have heard them say, he bolted and sifted out
more business than others in that office in many years
before him.
Bess. How long is it since he died?
Clem. Marry, the last dear year; for when corn
grew to be at a high rate, my father never doughed
after.
Bess. I think I have heard of hrm.
Clem. Then I am sure you have heard he was an
honest neighbour, and one that never loved to be meal-
mouthed.
Bess. Well, sirrah, prove an honest servant, and you
shall find me your good mistress. What company is in
the Mermaid ?
22 . THE FAJK MAIJ> OF THE WEST.
Clem. There be four sea-captains. I believe they be
little better than spirats, they be so flush of their
ruddocks.
Bess. No matter; we will take no note of them:
Here they may vent many brave commodities.
By which some gain accrues. They're my good cus-
tomers,
And still return me profit.
Clem. Wot you what, mistress, how the two sailors
would have served me, that called for the pound and a
half of cheese ?
Bess. How was it, Clem ?
Clem. When I brought them a reckoning, they would
have had me to have scored it up. They took me for a
simple gull, indeed, that would have had me to have
taken chalk for cheese.
Bes*. Well, go wait upon the captains: see them
want no wine.
Clem. NOT reckoning, neither, take my word, mistress.
Mouffhm. She's now at leisure ; I'll to her.
Lady, what gentlemen are those above ?
Bess. Sir, they are such as please to be my guests,
And they are kindly welcome.
Boughm* Give me their names.
Bess. You may go search the church-book where they
were christened :
There you perhaps may learn them.
jRoughm. Minion, how ?
F&rs. Re, fie ! you are too rude with this fair creature,
That no way seeks t'offend you.
Bess. Pray, hands off.
Roughm. I tell thee, maid, wife, or whate'er thou beest,
No man shall enter here but by my leave.
Come, let's be more familiar.
s. 'Las, good man !
THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 23
R. Why, know'st them whom, thou slight'st ? I am
Roughman,
The only approved gallant of these parts :
A man of whom the roarers stand in awe,
And must not be put off.
Bess. I never yet heard man so praise himself,
But proved in th'end a coward.
Roitghm. Coward, Bess?
You will offend me, raise in me that fury
Your beauty cannot calm. Go to ; no more :
Your language is too harsh and peremptory ;
Pray let me hear no more on't. I tell thee
That quiet day scarce passed me these seven years
I have not cracked a weapon in some fray,
And will you move my spleen ?
Fors. What, threat a woman ?
JBess. Sir, if you thus persist to wrong my house,
Disturb* my guests, and nightly domineer.
To put my friends from patience, I'll complain
And right myself before the magistrate.
Can we not live in compass of the law,
But must be swaggered out on't ?
Roughm. Go to, wench:
I wish thee well ; think on't, there's good for thee
Stored in my breast ; and when I come in place,
I must have no man to offend mine eye :
My love can brook no rivals. For this time
I am content your captains shall have peace,
But must not be us'd to't.
Bess. Sir, if you come like other fres and civil gentle-
men,
You're welcome ; otherwise, my doors are barrM you.
Roughm. That's my good girL
I have fortunes laid up for thee : what I have.
Command it as thine own. Go to ; be wise.
24? THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Bess. Well, I shall study for't.
Eouffh. Consider on't. Farewell. \_Exit.
Bess. My mind suggests me that this prating fellow
Is some notorious coward. If lie persist,
I have a trick to try what metaPs in him.
Enter CLEM.
What news with you?
Clem. I am now going to carry the captains a reck-
oning.
Bess. And what's the sum ?
Clem. Let me see eight shillings and six pence.
Bess. How can you make that good? Write them a
bilL
Clem. Ill watch them for that ; 'tis no time of night
to use our bills. The gentlemen are no dwarfs ; and
with one word of my mouth I can tell them what is to
be-tall.
.Bess. How comes it to so much ?
Clem. Imprimis, six quarts of wine, at seven pence
the quart, seven sixpences.
Bess. "Why dost thou reckon it so?
Clem. Because, as they came in by hab nab, so I wiH
bring them in a reckoning at six and at sevens.
Bess. Well, wine, 3s. Qd.
Clem. And what wants that often groats?
Bess. 'Tis two pence over.
Clem. Then put six pence more to it, and make it four
shillings wine, though you bate it them in their meat.
Bess. Why so, I prithee?
Clem. Because of the old proverb. What they want
in meat, let them take out in drink. Then, for twelve
pennyworth of anchovies, eighteen pence.
Bess, How can that be ?
Clem. Marry, very well, mistress : twelve pence, an-
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 25
chovies, and sixpence oil and vinegar. Xay, they shall
have a saucy reckoning.
Bess. And what for the other half-crown ?
Clem. Bread, beer, salt, napkins, trenchers, one thing
with another ; so the summa totalis is eight shillings and
sixpence.
Bess. Well, take the reckoning from the bar.
Clem. What needs that, forsooth? The gentlemen
seem to be high-flown already. Send them in but
another pottle of sack, and they will cast tip the reckon-
ing of themselves. Yes, 111 about it, \Exit.
Bess. Were I not with so my suitors pestered,
And might I enjoy my Spencer, what a sweet,
Contented life were this ? For money flows,
A.nd my gain's great. But to my RougTvman next.
I have a trick to try what spirit's in Tmn.
It shall be my next business ; in this passion
For my dear Spencer, I propose me this ;
'Mongst many sorrows, some mirth's not amiss. [Exit.
Enter SPENCER and GOODLACK.
GoodL What were you tVimldngj sir ?
Spenc. Troth, of the world: what any man should see in't
to be in love with it.
Goodl. The reason of your meditation?
Spenc. To imagine that in the same instant that one
forfeits all his estate, another enters upon a rich posses-
sion. As one goes to the church to be married, another
is hurried to the gallows to be hanged ; the last having
no feeling of the first man's joy, nor the first of the last
man's misery. At the same time hat one lies tortured
upon the rack, another lies tumbling with his mistress
overhead and ears in down and feathers. This when I
truly consider, I cannot but wonder why any fortune
should make a man ecstasied.
26 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
GoodL You give yourself too mucli to melancholy*
Spenc. These are my maxims; and were they as
faithfully practised by others as truly apprehended by
me, we should have less oppression, and more charity.
Enter the tico Captains that icere before.
1 Capt. Make good thy words.
2 Capt. I say, thou hast injured me.
1 Capt. Tell me wherein.
2 Capt. When we assaulted Fayal,
And I had, by the General's command,
The onset, and with danger of my person
Enforced the Spaniard to a swift retreat.
And beat them from their fort, thou, when thou saw'st
AH fear and danger past, mad'st up with me,
To share that honour which was sole mine own,
And never ventured shot for't, or e'er came
"Where bullet graz'd.
Spenc. See, captain, a fray towards.
Let's, if we can, atone this difference.
GoodL Content.
1 Capt. Ill prove it with my sword,
That though thou had'st the foremost place in field,
And I the second, yet my company
"Was equal in the entry of the fort*
My sword was that day drawn as soon as thine,
And that poor honour which I won that day
Was but my merit.
2 Capt. Wrong me palpably,
And justify the same?
Spenc. You shall not fight.
1 Capt. Why, sir, who made you first a justicer,
And taught you that word shall? You are no Gene-
ral;
Or, if you be, pray show us your commission.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE "WEST. 27
Spenc. Sir, you have no commission but my counsel,
And that I'll show you, freely.
2 Copt. 'Tis some chaplain.
1 Gapt. I do not like his text.
GoodL Let's beat their weapons down.
1 Copt. I'll aim at frinri that offers to divide us !
2 Copt. Pox of these part-frays ! see, I am wounded,
By beating down my weapon.
GoodL How fares my friend?
Spenc. You sought for blood, and, gentlemen, you
have it.
Let mine appease you : I am hurt to death.
1 Capt. My rage converts to pity, that this gentleman
Shall suffer for his goodness.
GoodL Noble friend,
I will revenge thy death.
Spenc. He is no friend
That murmurs such a thought. Oh, gentlemen,
I kill'd a man in Plymouth, and by you
Am slain in FayaL Carroll fell by me, 1
And I fall by a Spencer. Heaven is just,
And will not suffer murder unreveng'd.
Heaven pardon me, as I forgive you both !
Shift for yourselves : away !
2 Gapt. We saw him die,
But grieve you should so perish.
Spenc. Note Heaven's justice,
And henceforth make that use on't. I shall faint.
1 Gapt. Short farewells now must serve. If thou
surviVst,
Live to thine honour ; but if thou expir'st,
Heaven take thy soul to mercy. \Easeiunt.
Spenc. I bleed much ;
I must go seek a surgeon.
GoodL Sir, how cheer you?
28 THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST.
Spenc. Like one that's bound upon a new adventure
To th' other world : yet thus much, worthy friend,
Let me entreat you, since I understand
The Fleet is bound for England, take your occasion
To ship yourself, and when you come to Foy,
Kindly commend me to my dearest Bess :
Thou shalt receive a will, in which I have
Possessed her of five hundred pounds a year.
GoodL A noble legacy.
j&penc. The rest I have bestowed amongst my friends ;
Only reserving a bare hundred pounds,
To see me honestly and well interr'd.
GoodL I shall perform your trust as carefully
As to my father, br&ithM he.
Spenc. Mark me, captain.
Her legacy I give with this proviso :
If, at thy arrival where my Bess remains,
Thou find'st her well reported, free from scandal,
My Tvill stands firm ; but if thou hear'st her branded
For loose behaviour, or immodest life,
What she should have, I here bestow on thee :
It is thine own ; but, as thou lo Vst thy soul,
Deal faithfully betwixt my Bess and me.
GoodL Else let me die a prodigy.
Spenc. This ring was hers 5 that, be she loose or chaste,
Being her own, restore her: she will know it;
And doubtless she deserves it. Oh, my memory I
What had I quite forgot ? She hath my picture.
GoodL And what of that ?
Spenc. If she be rank'd among the loose and lewd,
Take it away : I hold it much indecent
A whore should ha 9 t in keeping ; but if constant,
Let her enjoy it. This my will perform,
As thou art just and honest.
GoodL Sense else forsake me.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 29
Spenc. Now lead ine to my chamber. All's made even
My peace with earth, and my atone with Heaven.
Enter BESS BBIDGOES, like a Page* with a sword ; and
CLEM.
Bess. But that I know my mother to be chaste,
Fd swear some soldier got me.
Clem. It may be many a soldier's buff jerkin came
out of your father's tan-vat.
Hess. Methinks I have a manly spirit in me,
In this man's habit.
Clem. Now, am not I of many men's minds; for, if
you should do me wrong, I should not kill you, though
I took you pissing against a walL
Bess. Methinks I could be valiant on the sudden,
And meet a man i'th' field.
I could do all that I have heard discours'd
Of Mary Ambree, or Westminster Long Meg.
Clem. What Mary Ambree was I cannot tell; but
unless you were taller, you will come short of Lmg
Meg.
Bess. Of all thy fellows, thee I only trust,
And charge thee to be secret.
Clem. I am bound in my indentures to keep my
master's secrets ; and should I find a man in bed with
you, I would not tell.
Bess. Begone, sir ; but no words, as you esteem my
fevour.
Clem. But, mistress, I could wish you to look to your
long seams ; fights are dangerous. But am not I in a
sweet taking, think you?
Bess. I prithee, why?
Clem. Why, if you should swagger and ki"|T anybody,
I, being a vintner, should be called to the Jbar. [Exit.
Bess. Let none condemn me of immodesty,
SO THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Because I try the courage of a man,
^VTio on my soul's a coward ; beats my servants.
Cuffs them, and, as they pass by him, kicks my maids ;
Xay, domineers over me, making himself
Lord o'er my house and household. Yesternight
I heard him make appointment on some business
To pass alone this way. I'll venture fair,
But I will tiy what's in him.
Enter ROUGHMAN and FORSET.
Fors. Sir, I can now no farther ; weighty business
Calls me away.
Rough. TFhy, at your pleasure, then.
Yet I could wish that ere I past this field
That I could meet some Hector, so your eyes
Might witness what myself have oft repeated,
If amely, that I am valiant.
Fors. Sir, no doubt ; but now I am in haste. Fare-
well
Rough. How many times brave words bear out a
man!
For if he can but make a noise, he's fear'd.
To talk of frays, although he ne'er had heart
To face a man in field, that's a brave fellow.
I have been valiant, I must needs confess,
In street and tavern, where there have been men
Ready to part the fray ; but for the fields,
They are too cold to fight in.
Bess. You are a villain, a coward \ and you lie.
Rough. You wrong me, I protest Sweet, courteous
gentleman, I never did you wrong.
Bess. Wilt tell me that ?
Draw forth thy coward sword, and suddenly,
Or, as I am a man, I'll run thee through,
And leave thee dead i' h' field.
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 31
Hough. Hold ! as you are a gentleman. I have ta'en
an oath
I will not fight to-day.
Bess. Th'ast took a blow already, and the lie :
AVill not both these enrage thee ?
Rough. No ; would you give the bastinado, too,
I will not break mine oath.
Bess. Oh I your name's Roughman :
No day doth pass you, but you hurt or kill.
Is this out of your calendar ?
Rough. I ? you are deceiv'd.
I ne'er drew sword in anger, I protest,
Unless it were upon some poor, weak fellow,
That ne'er wore steel about him.
Bess. Throw your sword.
Rough. Here, sweet young sir \ but, as you are a
gentleman,
Do not impair mine honour.
Bess. Tie that shoe*
Rough. I shall, sir.
Bess. TIntruss that point.
Rough. Any thing, this day, to save mine oath.
Bess. Enough ! yet not enough. Ide down,
Till I stride o'er thee.
Rough. Sweet, sir, any thing.
Bess. Else, thou hast leave. Now, Koughman, thou
art blest :
This day thy life is sav'd j look to the rest.
Take back thy sword.
Rough. Oh I you are generous : honour me so much
As let me know to whom I owe my life.
Bess. I am Bess Bridges* brother.
Rough. Still methought you were something like her.
Bess. And I have heard
You domineer and revel in her house,
32 THE FAIR 3IAID OP THE WEST.
Control her servants, and abuse her guests,
Which If I ever shall hereafter hear,
Thou art but a dead man.
Rough. She never told me of a brother living :
But you have power to sway me*
Bess. But for I see you are a gentleman,
I am content this once to let you pass ;
But if I find you fall into relapse.
The second's far more dangerous.
Bough. I shall fear it. Sir, will you take the wine ?
Bess. I am for London,
And for these two terms cannot make return ;
But if you see my sister, you may say
I was in health.
Sough. Too well : the devil take you I
Bess. Pray, use her well, and at my coming back
HI ask for your acquaintance. Now, farewell. [Exit.
Hough. Xone saw't: he's gone for London; I am
unhurt ;
Then who shall publish this disgrace abroad?
One man's no slander, should he speak his worst.
My tongue's as loud as his; but in this country
Both of more fame and credit. Should we contest,
I can outface the proudest. This is, then,
My comfort: Eoughman, thou art still the same,
For a disgrace not seen is held no shame. [Exit.
Enter two Sailors.
1 Sa. Aboard, aboard I the wind stands fair for Eng-
land;
The ships have all weighed anchor.
2 SaiL A stiff gale blows from the shore.
Enter Captain GOOBLAOK.
GoodL The sailors call aboard, and I am forc'd
THE PAIB MAID OF THE WEST. S3
To leave my friend now at the point of death,
And cannot close his eyes. Here is the wilL
Now may I find yon tanner's daughter turn'd
Unchaste or wanton, I shall gain by it
Five hundred pounds a year. Here is good evidence.
1 Sailor. Sir, will you take the long boat and aboard ?
Enter a third Sailor.
GoodL With all my heart.
3 Sail. What ! are you ready, mates ?
1 Sail. We stayed for you. Thou canst not tell
who's dead?
The great bell rung out now.
3 Sail. They say 'twas for one Spencer, who this
night
Died of a mortal wound.
GoodL My worthy friend :
TJnhappy Trumj that cannot stay behind,
To do him his last rites I Was his name Spencer ?
3 Sail. Yes, sir ; a gentleman of good account,
And well known in the navy.
Goodl. This is the end of all mortality.
It will be news unpleasing to his Bess.
I cannot fare amiss, but long to see
Whether these lands belong to her or me.
Enter SPENCEB and his Surgeon.
Surff. Nay, fear not, sir: now you have scap'd this
dressing,
My life for yours.
Spenc. I thank thee, honest friend.
Swrg. Sir, I can tell you news.
Spenc. What is't, I prithee ?
Sury. There is a gentleman, one of your name,
That died within this hour.
34 THE FAIR 3IAID OP THE WEST.
Spenc. My name I What was lie ? Of what sick-
ness died he ?
>Sfor^. 2s"o sickness, but a slight hurt in the body,
"Which showed at first no danger, but, being searched,
He died at the third dressing.
Spenc. At my third search I am in hope of life.
The heavens are merciful.
Sura. Sir, doubt not your recovery.
Spenc. That hundred pound I had prepar'd t* expend
Upon mine own expected funeral,
I for name-sake will now bestow on his.
Surff. A noble resolution.
Spenc. What ships are bound for England? Iwoiild
gladly
Venture to sea, though weak.
Surg. All bound that way are under sail already.
Spenc. Here's no security ;
For when the beaten Spaniards shall return,
They'll spoil whom they can find.
Surg. We have a ship,
Of which I am surgeon, that belongs unto
A London merchant, now bound for Mamorah,
A town in Barbaxy ; please you to use that,
You shall commend free passage : ten months hence,
We hope to visit England.
Spenc. Friend, I thank thee.
Burg. Ill bring you to the master, who I know
Will entertain you gladly.
Spenc. When I have seen the funeral rites perform'd
To the dead body of my countryman
And kinsman, I will take your courteous offer.
England, no doubt, will hear news of my death.
How Bess will take it is to me unknown.
On her behaviour I will build my fate,
There raise my love, or thence erect my hate.
Explicit Actus se&tndus.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 35
ACTUS TERTITTS, SOENA PBIMA.
Enter RouamiAN and FORSET.
Rougfih Oh ! y' are well met. Just as I prophecied,
So it feU out.
Fors. As how, I pray ?
Rough. Had you but stay'd the crossing of one field,
You had beheld a Hector , the boldest Trojan
That ever Roughman met with.
Fors. Pray, what was he ?
Rough. You talk of Little Davy, Cutting Dick,
And divers such ; but tush ! this hath no fellow.
Fors. Of what stature and years was he ?
Rough. Indeed, I must confess he was no giant,
Nor above fifty ; but he did bestir him
Was here, and there, and every where, at once,
That I was ne'er so put to't, since the midwife
First wrapt my head in linen. .Let's to Bess :
Til tell her the whole project.
Fors. Here's to the house : well enter, if you please,
Rough. Where be these drawers rascals, I should
say
That will give no attendance ?
Enter CLEM.
Clem. Anon, anon, sir : please you see a room. What !
you here, again ? Now we shall have such roaring !
Rough. You, sirrah, call your mistress.
Clem. Yes, sir, I know it is my duty to call her mistresQ.
Rough. See and the slave will stir !
Clem. Yes, I do stir.
Rough. Shall we have humours, sauce-box? You
have ears :
I'll teach you prick-song.
i> 2
36 THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Clem, But you have now a wrong sow by the ear.
I will call her.
Rough. Do, sir; you had best.
Clem. If you were twenty Roughmans^ if you lug me
by the ears again, I'll draw.
Rough. Ha ! what will you draw ?
Clem. The best wine in the house for your worship ;
and I would call her, but I can assure you that she is
either not stirring, or else not in case.
Rough. How not in case?
Clem. I think she hath not her smock on ; for I think
I saw it lie at her bed's head,
Rough. "What! drawers grow capricious?
Clem. Help! help!
Enter BESS BRIDGES.
Bess. What uproar's this ? Shall we be never rid
From these disturbances ?
Rough. Why, how now, Bess f
Is this your housewifery ? When you are mine,
HI have you rise as early as the lark.
Look to the bar yourself; these lazy rascals
Will bring your state behindhand.
Clem. You lie, sir.
Rough. How! lie!
Cl&n. Yes, sir, at the Raven in the High Street. I
was at your lodging this morning for a pottle pot.
Rough. You will about your business: must you
here
Stand gaping and idle ? [Strikes him.
Sess. You wrong me, sir,
And tyrannize too much over my servants.
'I will have no man touch them but myself.
Clem. If I do not put ratsbane into his wine, instead
of sugar, say I am no true baker. '[Exit.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 37
Rough. What ! rise at noon ?
A man may fight a tall fray in a morning,,
And one of your best friends, too, be hacked and
mangled,
And almost cut to pieces, and you fast,
Close in your bed, ne'er dream on't.
Bess. Fought you this day ?
Rough. And ne'er was better put to't in my days.
Bess. I pray, how was't ?
Rough. Thus. As I past yon fields
Enter the Kitchenmaid.
Maid. I pray, forsooth, what shall I reckon for the
jowl of ling in the Portcullis ?
Rough. A pox upon your jowls, you kitchen-stuff 1
Go, scour your skillets, pots, and dripping-pans,
And interrupt not us. \JRchs at her.
Maid, The devil take your ox-heels, you foul cod's-
head ! must you be kicking ?
Rough. Minion I dare you scold ?
Maid. Yes, sir ; and lay my ladle over your coxcomb.
Bess. I do not think that thou dar'st strike a man,
That swagger'st thus o'er women.
Rough. How now, Bess ?
Bess. Shall we be never quiet?
Fors. You are too rude.
Rough. Now I profess all patience.
Bess. Then proceed.
Rough. Rising up, early, minion, whilst you slept,
To cross yon field, I had but newly parted
With this my friend, but that I soon espied
A gallant fellow, and most strongly arm'd.
In the mid-field we met, and, both being resolute,
We justled for the wall
38 THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST.
Bess. Why, did there stand a wall in the mid-field ?
Rouah. I meant, strove for the way.
Two such brave spirits meeting, straight both drew.
Enter CLE^I.
Clem. The maid, forsooth, sent me to know whether
you would have the shoulder of mutton roasted or sod.
Rough. A mischief on your shoulders ! [Strikes him.
Clem. That's the way to make me never prove good
porter.
Bess. You still heap wrongs on wrongs.
Rough. I was in fury,
To think upon the violence of that fight,
And could not stay my rage.
Fors. Once more proceed.
Rough. Oh ! had you seen two tilting meteors justle
In the mid region, with like fear and fury
We two encountered. Not Briareus
Could with his hundred hands have struck more thick.
Blows came about my head ; I took them still :
Thrusts by my sides, 'twixt body and my arms;
Yet still I put them by.
Bess. When they were past, he put them by. Go on.
But in this fury, what became of him?
Sough. I think I paid him home : he's soundly mauTd.
I bosom'd him at every second thrust.
Bess. Scap'd he with life?
Rough. Ay, that's my fear. If he recover this,
111 never trust my sword more.
Bess. Why fly you not, if he be in such danger ?
Rough. Because a witch once told me
I ne'er should die for murder.
Bess. I believe thee.
But tell me, pray, was not this gallant fellow
A pretty, fair,, young youth, about my years?
THE JFAIB MAID OF THE WEST. 39
Bough. Even there about.
Clem. He was not fifty, then ?
Bess. Much of my stature ?
Rough. Much about your pitch.
Clem. He was no giant, then.
Bess. And wore a suit like this ?
Hough. I half suspect.
Bess. That gallnnt fellow,
So wounded and su mangled, was myself.
You base, white-livered slave ! it was this shoe
That thou stoop'd to untie ; untruss'd those points ;
And, like a beastly coward, lay along,
Till I strid over thee. Speak : was't not so?
Rough. It cannot be denied.
Bess. Hare-hearted fellow ! milksop ! Dost not blush?
Give me that rapier : I will make thee swear
Thou shalt redeem this scorn thou hast incurr'd,
Or in this woman shape Til cudgel thee,
And beat thee through the streets. As I am Bess, 111
do't.
Rough. Hold ; hold ! I swear.
Bess. Dare not to enter at my door till then.
Rough. Shame confounds me quite.
Bess. That shame redeem, perhaps well do thee grace.
I love the valiant, but despise the base.
Clem. Will you be kicked, sir?
Rough. She hath waken'd me,
And kindled that dead fire of courage in me
Which all this while hath slept. To spare my flesh
And wound my fame, what is't ? I will not rest,
Tilljby some valiant deed I have made good
All my disgraces past. PU cross the street,
And strike the next brave fellow that I meet.
For*. I am bound to see the end on't.
Rough. Are you, sir? [Beats
40 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Enter Mayor of Foy, an Alderman, and Servant.
Mayor. Believe me, sir, she bears herself so well,
No man can justly blame her ; and I wonder,
Being a single woman as she is,
And liying in a honse of such resort.
She is no more distasted.
Aid. The best gentlemen
The country yields become her daily guests-
Sure, sir, I think she's rich.
Mayor. Thus much I know : would I could buy her
state,
Were't for a brace of thousands ! [ A shot.
Aid. 'Twas said a ship is now put into harbour:
Know whence she is.
Serv. HI bring news from the quay. [Escit.
Mayor. To tell you true, sir, I could wish a match
Betwixt her and mine own and only son ;
And stretch my purse, too, upon that condition.
Aid. Please you, 111 motion it.
Se^&nter the Servant.
Sere. One of the ships is new come from the Islands ;
The greatest man of note's one Captain Goodlacfc.
It is but a small vessel.
Enter GOODLACE: and Sailors.
Goodl. Ill meet you straight at the WindmilL
Not one word of my name.
1 Sail. We understand you.
Mayor. Sir, *tis told us you came late from the Islands.
Goodl. I did so.
Mayor. Pray, sir, the news from thence ?
Goodl. The best is, that the General is in health,
And Fayal won from the Spaniards; but the fleet,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 41
By reason of so many dangerous tempests.
Extremely weather-beaten. You, sir, I take it,
Are Mayor o 5 th' town.
Mayor. I am the King's lieutenant.
GoodL I have some letters of import from one,
A gentleman of very good account
That died late in the Islands, to a maid
That keeps a tavern here.
Mayor. Her name Bess Bridges f
GoodL The same. I was desir'd to make inquiry
What fame she bears, and what report she's of.
Now, you, sir, being here chief magistrate,
Can beart resolve me.
Mayor. To our understanding
She's without stain or blemish, well reputed ;
And, by her modesty and fair demeanour,
Hath won the love of alL
GoodL The worse for me.
Aid. I can assure you, many narrow eyes
Have look'd on her and her condition 5
But those that with most envy have endeavour'd
Tentrap her, have return'd, won by her virtues.
GoodL So all that I inquire of make report.
I am glad to hear't. Sir, I have now some business,
And I of force must leave you.
Mayor. I entreat you to sup with me to-night.
GoodL Sir, I may trouble you.
[Exeunt Mayor and Alderman.
Five hundred pounds a year out of my way.
Is there no flaw that I can tax her with,
To forfeit this revenue? Is she such a saint,
None can missay her ? Why, then, I myself
Will undertake it. If in her demeanour
I can but find one blemish, stain, or spot,
It is five hundred pound a year well got.
[Exeunt GOOIXLACK and Sail&rs.
42 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Enter CLEII and the Sailors on the one side: at the other,
RoUGEQiAN, tcho draws upon them^ and beats them off.
JRe-enter CLEM, and the Sailors, icith BESS.
Bess. But did he fight It bravely?
Clem. I assure you, mistress, most dissolutely: he
hath run this sailor three times through the body, and
yet never touched his skin.
Bess. How can that be?
Clem. Through the body of his doublet, I meant.
Bess. How shame, base imputation, and disgrace,
Can make a coward valiant ! Sirrah, you
Look to the bar.
Clem. Ill hold up my hand there presently.
Bess. I understand you came now from the Islands?
1 Sail. We did so.
Bess. If you can tell me tidings of one gentleman,
I shall requite you largely.
1 Sail. Of what name ?
Bess. One Spencer.
2 Sail. We both saw and knew the man.
Bess. Only for that, call for what wine you please.
Pray tell me where you left "hiTn.
2 Sail. In FayaL
Bess. Was he in health ? How did he fare ?
2 Sail. Why, welL
Bess. For that good news, spend, revel, and carouse ;
Tour reck'ning's paid beforehand. I am ecstasied,
And my delight's unbounded.
I Sail. Did you love him?
Bess. Next to my hopes in heaven.
1 Sail. Then change your mirth.
Bess. Why, as I take it, you told me he was well ;
And shall I not rejoice ?
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 43
1 Sail. He's well, in heaven ; for, mistress, he is dead.
Bess. Ah ! dead ! Was't so you said ? Th 3 hast given
me, friend,
But one wound yet : speak but that word again.
And kill me outright.
2 SaiL He lives not.
Bess. And shall I ? Wilt thou not break, heart ?
Are these my ribs wrought out of brass or steel,
Thou cajist not craze their bars ?
1 Sail. Mistress, use patience, which conquers all
despair.
Bess. You advise welL
I did but jest with sorrow : you may see
I am now in gentle temper.
2 Sail. True ; we see't.
Bess. Pray take the best room in the house, and there
Call for what wine best tastes you : at my leisure,
111 visit you mysel
1 SaiL IT! use your kindness. \]Exeunb Sailors.
Bess. That it should be my fate ! Poor, poor sweet-
heart !
I do but think how thou becom'st thy grave,
In which would I lay by thee. What's my wealth,
To enjoy't without my Spencer? I will now
Study to die, that I may live with him.
Enter GOODLACK.
Goodl. The farther I inquire, the more I heax
To my discomfort. If my discontinuance
And change at sea disguise me from her knowledge,
I shall have scope enough to prove her fully.
This sadness argues she hath heard some news
Of my friend's death.
Bess. It cannot, sure, be true
That he is dead. Death could not be so envious,
44 THE FATS MAID OF THE WEST.
To snatch him in his prime. I study to forget
That e'er was such a man.
GoodL If not impeach her,
My purpose is to seek to marry her.
If she deny me, I'll conceal the will,
Or, at the least make her compound for half.
Save you, fair gentlewoman.
Bess. You are welcome, sir.
GoodL I hear say, there's a whore here, that draws wine.
I am sharp set, and newly come from sea,
And I would see the trash.
Bess. Sure, you mistake, sir.
If you desire attendance, and some wine,
I can command you both. Where be these boys?
GoodL Are you the mistress?
Bess. I command the house.
GoodL Of what birth are you, pray ?
Bess. A tanner's daughter.
GoodL Where born?
Bess. In Somersetshire.
Goodl. A trade-fall'n tanner's daughter go so brave ?
Oh ! you have tricks to compass these gay clothes.
Bess. None, sir, but what are honest.
GoodL What's your name ?
Bess. Bess Bridges most men call me.
GoodL Y'are a whore.
Bess. I will fetch you wine, to wash your mouth ;
It is so foul, I fear't may fester, else :
There may be danger in't.
GoodL Not all this move her patience ?
Bess. Grood, sir, at this time I am scarce myself,
By reason of a great and weighty loss
That troubles me. But I should know that ring.
GoodL How ! this, you baggage ? It was never made
To grace a strumpet's finger.
THE FAIB MAIB OF THE WEST. 45
Bess. Pardon, sir ; I both must and wilTleave you.
[JEW*.
Goodl. Did not this well? This will stick in my
stomach.
I could repent my wrongs done to this maid ;
But 111 not leave her thus : if she still love him,
111 break her heart-strings with some false report
Of his unkindness.
Enter CLEM.
Clem. You are welcome, gentleman. What wine will
you drink ? Claret, Metheglia, or Muscadine ? Cider, or
Perry, to make you merry ? Aragoosa, or Peter-see-
me? Canary, or Charnico? But, by your nose, sir,
you should love a cup of Malmsey : you shall have a
cup of the best in Cornwall.
Goodl. Here's a brave drawer, will quarrel with his
wine.
Clem. But if you prefer the Frenchman before the
Spaniard, you shall have either here of the deep red
grape, or the pallid white. You are a pretty tall gentle-
man; you should love High Country wine: none but
clerks and sextons love Graves wine. Or, are you a
married man, I'll furnish you with bastard, white or
brown, according to the complexion of your bedfellow.
GoodL You rogue, how many years of your prentice-
ship have you spent in studying this set speech ?
Clem. The first line of my part was, Anon, anon, sir ;
and the first question I answered to, was loggerhead, or
blockhead I know not whether.
GoodL Speak : where's your mistress ?
Clem. Gone up to her chamber.
GoodL Set a pottle of sack in the fire, and carry it
into the next room. [Exit.
Clem. Score a pottle of sack in the Crown, and see
at the bar for some rotten eggs, to burn it : we must
46 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
have one trick or other, to vent away our bad commo-
dities, [Exit.
Enter BESS, [in Tier Chamber} with SPENCER'S Picture.
Bess. To die, and not vouchsafe some few commends
Before his death, was most unkindly done.
This picture is more courteous : 't will not shrink
For twenty thousand kisses ; no, nor blush :
Then thou shalt be my husband ; and I vow
If ever to marry other.
Enter GOODLACK.
Goodl. "Where's this harlot?
Bess. You are immodest, sir, to press thus rudely
Into my private chamber.
GoodL Pox of modesty,
"When punks must have it mincing in their mouths !
And have I found thee ? then, shalt hence with me.
Bess. Rob me not of the chiefest wealth I have.
Search all my trunks ; take the best jewels there ;
Deprive me not that treasure : Pll redeem it
"With plate, and all the little coin I have,
So I make keep that stilL
GoodL Think'st thou that bribes
Can make my leave my friend's will unperform'd ?
Bess. What was that ftiend ?
Goodl. One Spencer^ dead i'th' Islands,
Whose very last words, utter'd at his death,
Were these : If ever thou shalt come to Foy,
Take thence my picture, and deface it quite;
For let it not be said, my portraiture
Shall grace a strumpet's chamber.
Bess. 'Twas not so :
You lie 1 you are a villain ! 'twas not so.
'Tis more than sin thus to bely the dead.
He knew, if ever I could have transgress'd,
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 47
'T had been with hrm : he durst have sworn me chaste,
And died in that belief.
GoodL Are you so brief?
Nay, I'll not trouble you. Good bye you !
Bess. Yet leave me still that picture, and 111 swear
You are a gentleman, and cannot lie.
GoodL I am inexorable.
Bess. Are you a Christian? Have you any name
That ever good man gave you ?
'Twas no saint you were call'd after. What's thy name ?
GoodL My name is Captain Thomas Good*
Bess. I can see no good in thee : rase that syllable
Out of thy name.
GoodL Goodlactfs my name.
Bess. I cry you mercy, sir : I now remember you.
You were my Spencer's friend ; and I am sorry,
Because he lov'd you, I have been so harsh :
For whose sake I entreat, ere you take't hence,
I may but take my leave on't.
GoodL You'll return it?
Bess. As I am chaste, I will.
GoodL For once I'll trust you.
Bess. Oh thou ! the perfect semblance of my love,
And all that's left of him, take one sweet kiss,
As my last farewelL Thou resemblest him,
For whose sweet safety I was every morning
Down on my knees, and with the lark's sweet tunes
I did begin my prayers ; and when sad sleep
Had charm'd all eyes, when none save the bright stars
Were up and waking, I remembered thee ;
But all, all to no purpose.
GoodL Sure, most sure, this cannot be dissembled.
Bess. To thee I have been constant in thine absence ;
And when I look'd upon this painted piece,
Remembered thy last rules and principles.
48 THE FAIB MAID OF THE \VEST.
For thee I have given alms, visited prisons,
To gentlemen and passengers lent coin,
That, if they ever had ability,
They might repay't to Spencer : yet for this,
AH this, and more, I cannot have so much
As this poor table.
Goodl. I should question truth, if I should wrong this
creature.
Bess, I am resolv'd.
See, sir, this picture I restore you back ;
Which, since it was his will you should take hence,
I will not wrong the dead.
GoodL God be wi' you !
Bess. One word more.
Spencer, you say, was so unkind in death.
GoodL I tell you true.
Bess. I do entreat you, even for goodness* sake,
Since you were one that he entirely lov'd,
If you some few days hence hear me expired,
You will, Amongst other good men, and poor people
That haply may miss Bess., grace me so much
As follow me to the grave. This if you promise,
You shall not be the last of all my friends
Kemembered in my wilL Now, fare you well.
Goodl, Had 1 had heart of flint or adamant,
It w*buld relent at this. My mistress Bess 9
I have better tidings for you.
Bess. You will restore my picture ? Will you ?
Goodl. Yes, and more than that :
This ring from my friend's finger, sent to you
With infinite commends.
Bess. You change my blood.
GoodL These writings are the evidence of lands :
Kve hundred pound a year's bequeathed to you,
Of which I here possess you : all is yours.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 49
Bess. This surplusage of love hath made my loss,
That was but great before, now infinite.
It may be compassed ; there's in this my purpose
No impossibility.
Goodl. What study you ?
Bess. Four thousand pound, besides this legacy,
In jewels, gold, and silver, I can make,
And every man discharg'd. I am resolv'd
To be a pattern to all maids hereafter
Of constancy in love.
Goodl. Sweet Mistress Bess, will you command my
service ?
If to succeed your Spencer in his love,
I would expose me wholly to your wishes.
Bess. Alas 1 my love sleeps with him in his grave,
And cannot thence be wakened : yet for his sake
I will impart a secret to your trust,
Which, saving you, no mortal should partake.
Goodl. Both for his love and yours, command my
service.
Bess. There's a prize
Brought into Falmouth Road, a good tight vessel.
The bottom will but cost eight hundred pound ;
You shall have money : buy it.
Goodl. To what end?
Bess. That you shall know hereafter. Furnish her
With all provision needful : spare no cost ;
Ajid join with you a ging of lusty lads,
Such as will bravely man her. All the charge
I will commit to you ; and when she's fitted,
Captain, she is thine own.
GoodL I sound it not.
Bess. Spare me the rest. This voyage I intend,
Though some may blame, all lovers will commend.
\_Esceunt.
Explicit Actus tertius. E
50 THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST.
ACTUS QTJARTU& SCENA PBIMA.
After an Alarum., enter a Spanish Captain^ with Sailors^
bringing in a Merchant : SPENCER, and the Surgeon,
prisoners.
Spaniard. For Fayal's loss and spoil* by th' English
done,
We are in part revenged. There's not a vessel
That bears upon her top St. George's Cross,
But for that act shall suffer.
Merchant. Insult not, Spaniard,
Nor be too proud, that thou by odds of ships,
Provision, men, and powder, mad'st us yield.
Had you come one to one, or made assault
TTith reasonable advantage, we by this
Had made the carcase of your ship your graves,
Low sunk to the sea's bottom*
Span. Englishman, thy ship shall yield us pillage.
These prisoners we will keep in strongest hold,
To pay no other ransom than their lives.
Spenc. Degenerate Spaniard, there's no nobless in
thee,
To threaten men unarmM and miserable.
Thou might'st as well tread o'er a field of slaughter,
And kill them o'er that are already slain,
And brag thy manhood.
Span. Sirrah, what are you ?
Spenc. Thy equal, as I am a prisoner;
But once to stay a better man than thou:
A gentleman in my country.
Span. Wert thou jiot so, we have strappados, bolts,
And engines, to the mainmast fastened,
Can make you gentle.
Spenc. Spaniard, do thy worst :
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 51
Thou canst not act more tortures than my courage
Is able to endure.
Span. These Englishmen,
Nothing can daunt them. Even in misery.
They'll not regard their masters.
Spenc. Masters ! Insulting, bragging Tkrasos I
Span. His sauciness we'll punish 'bove the rest.
About their censures we will next devise. ] [Flourish.
And now towards Spain, with our brave English prize.
\JExeunt.
Enter BESS, Mayor, Alderman, CLEM.
A table set out, and stools.
.Bess. A table and some stools !
Clem. I shall give you occasion to ease your tails,
presently.
Bess. WilTt please you sit?
Mayor. With all our hearts, and thank you.
Bess. Fetch me that parchment in my closet window.
Clem. The three sheepskins with the wrong side out-
ward?
Bess. That with the seaL
Clem. I hope it is my indenture, and now she means
to give me my time. \JSxit.
Alder. And now you are alone, fair Mistress Elzabetli,
I think it good to taste you with a motion
That no way can displease you.
Bess. Pray, speak on,
Alder. *T hath pleas'd here Master Mayor so far to look
Into your fair demeanour, that he thinks you
A fit match for his son.
Re-enter CLEM, with the parchment.
Clem. Here's the parchment ; but if it be the lease of
your house, I can assure you 'tis out.
E 2
52 THE FAIR ^lAID OF THE WEST.
Bess. The years are not expired.
Clem. Xo ; but it is out of your closet.
Bess. About your business.
Clem. Here's even Susannah betwixt the two wicked
elders. [Exit.
Alder. What think you, Mistress Elzabeih ?
Bess. Sir, I thank you ;
And how much I esteem this goodness from you,
The trust I shall commit unto your charge
Will truly witness. Marry, gentle sir !
'Las, I have sadder business now on hand,
Than sprightly marriage ; witness these my tears.
Pray read these.
Mayor. \Reads\ The last will and testament of Elza-
beth Bridges ; to be committed to the trust of the Mayor
and Aldermen of Foy, and their successors for ever.
To set up young beginners in their trade, a thousand
pound.
To relieve such as have had loss by sea, five hundred
pound.
To every maid that's married out of Foy, whose name's
Elzabethy ten pound.
To relieve maimed soldiers, by the year, ten pound.
* To Captain Goodlaclc, if he shall perform the business
he's employed in, five hundred pound.
The legacies for Spencer thus to stand :
To number all the poorest of his kin,
And to bestow on them. Item, to -
Bess. Enough 1 ! You see, sir, I am now too poor
To bring a dowry with me fit for your son.
Mayor. You want a precedent, you so abound
'In charity and goodness.
Bess. All my servants
1 leave at your discretions to disposes
JJTot one but I have left some legacy,
THE FAIR 3VIAID OF THE WEST. 53
What shall become of me, or what I purpose,
Spare farther to inquire.
Mayor. We'll take our leaves,
And prove to you faithful executors
In this bequest.
Alder. Let never such despair,
As, dying rich, shall make the poor their heir. [Exeunt.
Bess. Why, what is all the wealth the world contains,
Without my Spencer ?
Enter RouGHMAJsr and FOBSET.
Rough. Where's my sweet Bess ?
Shall I become a welcome suitor, now
That I have chang'd my copy ?
Bess, I joy to hear it.
Pll find employment for you-
Enter GOODLACK, Sailors, and CLEM.
GoodL A gallant ship, and wondrous proudly trimm'd :
Well caulked, well tackled ; every way prepar'd.
Bess. Here, then, our mourning for a season end.
Rough. Bess, shall I strike that captain? Say the word,
I'll have him by the ears.
Bess. Not for the world.
GoodL What saith that feUow?
Bess. He desires your love, good Captain: let him
ha' it.
GoodL Then change a hand.
Bess. Resolve me all. I am bound upon a voyage :
Will you, in this adventure, take such part
As I my self shall do?
Rough. With my fair Bess, to the world's end.
Bess* Then, Captain and Lieutenant both join hands ;
Such are your places now.
GoodL We two are friends.
56 THE FAIR MATn OF THE WEST.
And freedom in our country, that conceal
The least part of our custom due to us,
Shall forfeit ship and goods.
Joff. There are appointed
Unto that purpose careful officers.
Mull. Those forfeitures must help to furnish up
Th' exhausted treasure that our wars consumed.
Part of such profits as accrue that way
We have already tasted.
Ale. 'Tis most fit
Those Christians that reap profit by our land
Should contribute unto so great a loss.
MulL A Icade, they shalL But what's the style of king,
Without his pleasure? Find us concubines,
The fairest Christian damsels you can hire,
Or buy for gold : the loveliest of the Moors
We can command, and negroes every where.
Italians, French, and Dutch, choice Turkish girls,
Must fill our Alkedavy, the great palace
Where Mulliskeg now deigns to keep his court.
Joff. Who else are worthy to be libertines
But such as bear the sword ?
Midi. Jqffer 9 thou pleasest us.
If kings on earth be termed demigods.
Why should we not make here terrestrial heaven ?
We can, we will: our God shall be our pleasure ;
For so our Meccan Prophet warrants us.
And now the music of the drums surcease :
We'll learn to dance to the soft tunes of peace.
[Havtiboys.
Enter BESSL, like a Sea-captain, GOODLACK, KOUGHMAN,
FORSET, and CI/GM.
Bess. Good morrow a Captain. Oh, this last sea-fight
Was gallantly perform'd ! It did me good
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 57
To see the Spanish carvel vail her top
Unto my maiden flag. Where ride we now ?
Goodl. Among the Islands.
Bess. "What coast is this we now descry from far ?
Goodl. Yon fort's called Fayal.
Bess. Is that the place where Spencers body lies ?
Goodl. Yes; in yon church he's buried.
Bess. Then know, to this place was my voyage bound,
To fetch the body of my Spencer thence ;
In his own country to erect a tomb
And lasting monument, where, when I die,
In the same bed of earth my bones may lie.
Then, all that love me, arm and make for shore :
Yours be the spoil, he mine ; I crave no more.
Rongji. May that man die derided and accurs'd
That will not follow where a woman leads.
Goodl. Roughman, you are too rash, and counsel ilL
Have not the Spaniards fortified the town?
In all our ging we are but sixty-five.
JRouffb. Come, I'll make one.
GoodL Attend me, good Lieutenant ;
And, sweet Bess., listen what I have devis'd.
With ten tall fellows I have mann'd our boat,
To see what straggling Spaniards they can take.
And see where Forset is return'd with prisoners.
Enter FORSET, with two Spaniards.
Fors. These Spaniards we by break of day surpris'd,
As they were ready to take boat for fishing.
GoodL Spaniards, upon your lives, resolve us truly,
How strong's the town and fort ?
Span. Since English Raleigh won and spoil'd it first,
The town's re-edified, and fort new built,
And four field pieces in the block-house lie,
To keep the harbour's mouth.
58 THE FAIJl MATB OF THE WEST.
GoodL And what's one ship to these ?
Bess. Was there not, in the time of their abode,
A gentleman calTd Spencer buried there.
Within the church* whom some report was slain,
Or perish'd by a wound ?
Span. Indeed, there was,
And o'er Tnni raised a goodly monument ;
But when the English navy were saiTd thence,
And that the Spaniards did possess the town,
Because they held him for a heretic,
They straight remov'd his body from the church.
Bess. And would the tyrants be so uncharitable
To wrong the dead ! Where did they then bestow him ?
Span. They buried him i'th' fields.
Bess. Oh, still more cruel !
Span. The man that ought the field, doubtful his corn
Would never prosper whilst a heretic's body
Lay there, he made petition to the Church
To ha* it digg'd up and burnt; and so it was.
Bess. What's he, that loves me, would persuade me
live?
Not rather leap o'er hatches into the sea?
Yet, ere I die, I hope to be reveng'd
Upon some Spaniards, for my Spencers wrong.
Rough. Let's first begin with these.
Bess. 'Las, these poor slaves ! Besides their pardon'd
lives,
One give them money. And, Spaniards, where you
come,
Pray for Bess Bridges* and speak well o' th 9 English.
Span. We shall
Bess. Our mourning we will turn into revenge.
And since the Church hath censur'd so nay Spencer^
Bestow upon the Church some few cast pieces.
Command the gunner do't.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 59
GoodL And, if he can, to batter It to the earth.
[A piece.
Enter CLEM, falling for haste.
Clem. A sail ! a sail !
Bess. From whence?
Clem. A pox upon yon gunner ! Could he not give
warning, before he had shot ?
Rough. Why, I prithee ?
Clem. Why ? I was sent to the top-mast, to watch,
and there I fell fast asleep. Bounce, quoth the gun ;
down tumbles Clem ; and, if by chance my foot had not
hung in the tackles, you must hare sent to England for
a bone-setter, for my neck had been in a pitiful taking.
Rough. Thou told'st us of a sail.
Enter Sailor^ above.
Sailor. Arm, gentlemen ! a gallant ship of war
Makes with her full sails this way ; who, it seems,
Hath took a bark of England.
Bess. Which we'll rescue,
Or perish in th 5 adventure. You have sworn
That, howsoe'er we conquer or miscarry,
Not to reveal my sex.
AIL We have.
Bess. Then, for your country's honour, my revenge,
For your own fame, and hope of golden spoil,
Stand bravely to't. The manage of the fight
We leave to you.
GoodL Then, now up with your fights, and let your
Blest with St. George's Cross, play with the winds.
Fair Bess, keep you your cabin.
Bess. Captain, you wrong me : I will face the fight ;
And where" the. bullets sing loud'st 'bout mine ears,
There shall you find me cheering up my men.
60 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Bough. This wench would of a coward make a Her-
cules.
Bess. Trumpets, a charge! and with your whistles
Sound, boatswains, an alarum to your mates.
With music cheer up their astonished souls,
The whilst the thundering ordnance bear the bass.
Goodl. To fight against the Spaniards we desire.
Alarum, trumpets I [Alarum.
Hough. Gunners, straight give fire ! [Shot.
[Exeunt GOODLACK, BJESS, <-<?.
Re-enter G-OODLACK:, hurt, BESS, ROTJGHMAN, FOBSET,
CLEM.
Goodl. I am shot, and can no longer man the deck :
Yet let not my wound daunt your courage, mates.
Bess. For every drop of blood that thou hast shed,
I'll have a Spaniard's life. Advance your targets,
And now cry all, Board ! board ! Amain for England !
[Alarum.
[Exeunt G-OODLACK, BESS, <<?.
Re-enter, with victory, BESS, EOUGHMAN, FOBSET,
CLEM, $c. The Spaniards prisoners.
Bess. How is it with the Captain ?
Rough. Nothing dangerous ;
But being shot i'th' thigh, he keeps his cabin,
And cannot rise to greet your victory.
Bess. He stood it bravely out, whilst he could stand.
Clem. But for these Spaniards : now, you Don Diegos^
you that made PauFs to stink.
Rough. Before we farther censure them, let's know
What English prisoners they have here aboard.
Span. You may command them all. We that were
now
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 61
Lords over them, Fortune hath made your slaves.
Release our prisoners 1
Bess. Had my Captain died.,
"Not one proud Spaniard had escaped with life.
Your ship is forfeit to us, and your goods :
So live. Give hi-m his long boat : him and his
Set safe ashore ; and pray for English Bess.
Span. I know not whom you mean ; but be't your
queen,
Famous Elizabeth, I shall report
She and her subjects both are merciful. \Exewnt*
Enter RouGmiA-sr, with the Merchant and SPENCER.
Bess. Whence are you, sir, and whither were you
bound?
Merch. I am a London, bound for Barbary ;
But by this Spanish man-of-war surprised,
Pillaged, and captiv'd.
Bess. We much pity you.
What loss you have sustained, this Spanish prey
Shall make good to you, to the utmost farthing*
Merch. Our lives, and all our fortunes whatsoever,
Are wholly at your service.
Bess. These gentlemen have been dejected long.
Let me peruse them all, and give them money
To drink our health. And pray forget not, sirs,
To pray for hold ! support me, or I faint.
Rough. What sudden, unexpected ecstasy
Disturbs your conquest ?
Bess. Interrupt me not ;
But give me way, for Heaven's sake !
Spencer. I have seen
A face, ere now, like that young gentleman,
But not remember where.
Bess. But he was slain ;
62 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Lay buried in yon church ; and thence remoy'd,
Denied all Christian rites, and, like an infidel,
Confin'd unto the fields ; and thence digg'd up,
His body, after death, had martyrdom.
All these assure me 'tis his shadow dogs me,
For some most just revenge, thus far to sea.
Is it because the Spaniards 'scap'd with life,
That were to thee so cruel after death,
Thou haunt'st me thus ? Sweet ghost, thy rage forbear ;
I will revenge thee on the next we seize.
I am amaz'd ; this sight 111 not endure.
Sleep, sleep, fair ghost, for thy revenge is sure.
Hough. Forsety convey the owner to his cabin.
[Exit FORSET with BESS.
Spenc. I pray, sir, what young gentleman is that ?
Hough. He's both the owner of the ship and goods,
That for some reasons hath his name concealed.
Spenc. Methinks he looks like Bess ; for in his eyes
Lives the first love that did my heart surprise.
Bough. Come, gentlemen, first make your losses good,
Out of this Spanish prize. Let's then divide
Both several ways, and heavens be our guide.
March. We towards Mamorah.
Rough* We where the Fates do please,
Till we have track'd a wilderness of seas.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
Enter CHOBUS.
Our stage so lamely can express a sea,
That we are forc'd by Chorus to discourse
What should have been in action. Now, imagine
Her passion o'er, and Goodlock well recover'^;
Who, had he not been wounded, and seen Spencer,
Had sure descried him- Much prize they have ta'en :
The French and Dutch she spares j only makes spoil
Of the rich Spaniard and the barbarous Turk*
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 63
And now her fame grows great in all these seas.
Suppose lier rich, and forc'd, for want of water,
To put into Mamorah, in Barbary,
Where, wearied with the habit of a man.
She was discovered by the Moors aboard,
Which told it to the amorous King of Fez,
That ne'er before had English lady seen.
He sends for her on shore. How he receives her,
How she and Sp&ncer meet, must next succeed.
Sit patient, then : when these are fully told,
Some may hap say, Ay, there's a girl worth gold.
\JEscit* Act long.
Explicit Actus quartus.
64 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
ACTTTS QUINTETS. SCENA PBIMA.
Enter MULLISHEG, ALCADE, JoFFER, Attendants, <-<?.
MuUisheg. But was she of such presence ?
Ale. To describe her were to make eloquence dumb.
Mull. Well habited?
Ale. I ne'er beheld a beauty more complete.
Mull. Thou hast inflam'd our spirits. In England
born?
Ale. The captain so reported,
Hull. How her ship ?
Ale. I never saw a braver vessel sail.
And she is calTd The Negro.
Mull. Ominous,
Perhaps, to our good fate: she in a Negro
Hath saiFd thus far, to bosom with a Moor.
But for the motion made to come ashore,
How did she relish that ?
Ale. I promised to the Captain large reward,
To win Tirm to it, and this day he hath promis'd
To bring me her free answer.
Mull. When he comes,
Give him the entertainment of a prince.
Enter a Moor.
The news with thee ?
Moor. The Captain of The Negro craves admittance
Unto your Highness' presence.
MuU. A guard attend him, and our noblest bashaws
Conduct him safe where we will parley him. [Flourish.
Enter GOOIXLACK and
Goodl. Long live the high and mighty King of Fez !
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 65
Mull. If thou bring'st her, then dost thou bring me
life.
Say, will she come ?
Goodl. She will, my Lord 5 but yet conditionally,
She may be free from violence.
MidL Now, by the mighty Prophet we adore,
She shall live lady of her free desires :
'Tis love, not force, must quench our amorous fires.
Rough. We will conduct her to your presence straight.
Mutt. We will have banquets, revels, and what not,
To entertain this stranger. \_Hautboys.
Enter BESS BRIDGES, veiled, GOODLACK, ROTJGHSMAN,
FOJRSET, and Moors.
A goodly presence ! "Why's that beauty veil'd ?
Bess. Long live the King of Fez.
MulL I am amaz'd!
This is no mortal creature I behold,
But some bright angel, that is dropped from heaven.
Sent by our Prophet. Captain, let me thus
Embrace thee in my arms. Load him with gold*
For this great favour.
Bess. Captain, touch it not.
Know, "KTfng of Fez, my followers want no gold.
I only came to see thee, for my pleasure,
And show thee what these say thou never saw'st,
A woman born in England.
Midi. That English earth may well be tenn'd a
heaven,
That breeds such divine beauties. Make me sure
That thou art mortal by one friendly touch.
Bess. Keep off: for, till thou swear'st to my de-
mands,
I will have no commerce with Muttisheg>
But leave thee as I came.
F
66 THE FAITt MAID OF THE WEST.
Mull. Wer't half my kingdom,
That, beauteous English virgin, thou shalt have.
Bess. Captain, read.
Goodl. First, liberty for her and hers to leave the
land at her pleasure.
Xext, safe conduct to and from her ship, at her own
discretion.
Thirdly, to be free from all violence, either by the
king, or any of his people.
Fourthly, to allow her mariners fresh victuals aboard.
Fifthly, to offer no farther violence to her person
than what he seeks by kingly usage and free en-
treaty.
MulL To these I vow and seal.
Bess. These being assur'd,
Your courtship's free, and henceforth we secur'd.
MulL Say, gentlemen of England, what's your fashion
And garb of entertainment ?
Goodl. Our first greeting
Begins still on the lips.
Mull. Fair creature, shall I be immortalized
With that high favour ?
Bess. *Tis no immodest tiling
You ask, nor shame for Bess to kiss a king.
Mull. This kiss hath all my vitals ecstasied.
Souffh. Captain, this king is mightily in love. Well,
let her
Do as she list, 111 make use of his bounty.
GoodL We should be madmen else.
MulL Grace me so much as take your seat by me.
Bess. Til be so far commanded.
Mutt. Sweet, your age?
Bess. Not fully yet seventeen,
Mutt. But how your birth? How came you to this
wealth,
THE FAJR MAID OF THE WEST. 67
To have such gentlemen at your command,
And what your cause of travel ?
Bess. Mighty prince,
If you desire to see me beat my breast,
Pour forth a river of increasing tears,
Then jou may urge me to that sad discourse.
MulL Not for Mamorah's wealth, nor all the gold
.Coin'd in rich Barbary. Nay, sweet, arise,
And ask of me, be't half this kingdom's treasure,
And thou art lady on't.
Bess. If I shall ask, 't must be, you will not give.
Our country breeds no beggars ; for our hearts
Are of more noble temper.
MulL Sweet, your name.
Bess. Elizabeth.
MulL There^s virtue in that name.
The virgin queen, so famous through the world,
The mighty empress of the maiden isle.
Whose predecessors have o'errun great France,
Whose powerful hand doth still support the Dutch,
And keeps the potent King of Spain in awe,
Is not she titled so ?
Bess. She is.
MulL Hath she herself a face so fair as yours,
When she appears for wonder?
Bess, Mighty Fez,
You cast a blush upon my maiden cheek,
To pattern me with her. Why, England's queen
She is the only Phoenix of her age,
The pride and glory of the Western Isles.
Had I a thousand tongues, they all would tire,
And fail me in her true description.
Mull. Grant me this :
To-morrow we supply our judgment seat,
p 2
68 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
And sentence causes ; sit with us in state,
And let your presence beautify our throne.
Bess. In that I am your servant.
Mull. And we thine.
Set on in state, attendants and full train :
But find to ask, we TOW thou shalt obtain.
[Exeunt MULLISHEQ-, BESS, and Attendants.
Enter CLEM : manet GOODLACK.
Clem. It is not now as when Andrea liv'd, or rather
Andrew, our elder journeyman. What ! drawers become
courtiers! Now may I speak with the old ghost in
Jeronimo
When this eternal substance of my soul
Did live imprisoned in this wanton flesh,
I was a courtier in the court of Fez.
GoodL Oh, well done, Clem! It is your mistress
pleasure,
None come ashore that's not well habited.
Clem. Nay; for mine own part, I hold myself as good
a Christian in these clothes, as the proudest infidel of
them alL
Enter ALCADE and JOFFEB.
Ale. Sir, by your leave, you're of the English train ?
Clem. I am so, thou great monarch of the Mauritanians.
Joff. Then, 'tis the King's command we give you all
attendance.
Clem. Great Signior of the Saracens, I thank thee.
Ale. Will you walk in to banquet?
Clem. I will make bold to march in towards your
banquet, and there comfit myself, and cast all caraways
down my throat, the best way I have to conserve my-
self in health: and for your country's sake, which is
called Barbary, I will love all barbers and barberies the
better,
THE FAIR MAID OE THE WEST. 6'J)
And for you Moors, thus much I mean to say,
I'll see if more I eat, the more I may.
Enter two Merchants.
1 Her. I pray, sir, are you of the English train ?
Clem. Why, what art thou, my friend ?
1 Her. Sir, a French merchant, run into relapse,
And forfeit of the law. Here's for you, sir,
Forty good Barbary pieces, to deliver
Your lady this petition, who, I hear,
Can all things with the Bang.
Clem. Your gold doth bind me to you. You may see
what it is to be sudden courtier : I no sooner put my
nose into the court, but my hand itches for a bribe
already. What's your business, my friend ?
2 Mer. Some of my men, for a little outrage done,
Are sentenced to the galleys.
Clem. To the gallows ?
2 Her. No ; to the galleys. Now, could your lady
purchase
Their pardon from the King, here's twenty angels.
Clem. What are you, sir ?
2 Her. A Florentine merchant.
Clem. Then you are, as they say, a Christian ?
2 Her. Heaven forbid fl else.
Clem. I should not have the faith to take your gold, else.
Attend on me : Pll speak in your behalf.
Where be my bashaws ? Usher us in state : [Flourish.
And when we sit to banquet, see you wait. \Essit.
Enter SPENCEB, solus.
Spenc. This day the King ascends his royal throne.
The honest merchant, in whose ship I came,
Hath, by a cunning quiddit in the law,
Both ship and goods made forfeit to the King,
70 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
To whom I will petition. But no more ;
He's now upon his entrance. [Hautboys.
Enter the King,, BESS, GOODLACK, ROUGHMAJST,
ALCADE, JOFFER, with all the other train.
Mull. Here seat the maid of England like a queen
The style we'll give thee, wilt thou deign us love.
Bess. Bless me, you holy angels !
Midi. What is't offends you, sweet ?
Spenc. I am amaz'd, and know not what to think on't.
Bess. Captain, dost not see? Is not that Spencer's
ghost?
GoodL I see, and like you I am ecstasied.
Spenc. If mine eyes mistake not,
That should be Captain Goodlack^ and that Bess.
But oh I I cannot be so happy.
GoodL 'Tis he, and I'll salute him,
Bess. Captain, stay.
You shall be swayed by me.
Spenc* Him I well know ; but how should she come
hither?
Hull. What is't that troubles you ?
Bess. Most mighty .King,
Spare me no longer time, but to bestow
My Captain on a message.
Mull. Thou shalt command my silence, and his ear.
Bess. [To GoodlacK\ Go wind about, and when you
see least eyes
Are fix'd on you, single him out, and see
If we mistake not. If he be the man,
Give me some private note.
GoodL This.
Bess. Enough. What said your highness ?
MulL Hark what I proffer thee. Continue here,
And grant me full fruition of thy love.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 71
Bess. Good.
Mull. Thou shalt have all my peers to honour thee,
Next our great Prophet.
Bess. Well.
Mull. And when thou'rt weary of our sun-burnt
Thy Negro shall be ballast home with gold.
Bess. I am eterniz'd ever !
Now, all you sad disasters, dare your worst ;
I neither care nor fear : my Spencer lives !
Mull. You mind me not, sweet virgin.
Bess. You talk of love:
My lord, I'll tell you more of that, hereafter :
But now to your state-business. Bid him do thus
No more, and not to be seen till then.
GoodL Enough. Come, sir, you must along with me.
[Exeunt GOOBLACK and SPENCEB.
Bess. Now, stood a thousand deaths before my face,
I would not change my cheer, since Spencer's safe.
Enter CLEM and the Merchants.
Clem. By your leave, my masters; room for Gene-
rosity.
1 Mer. Pray, sir, remember me.
2 Mer. Good sir, my suit.
Cletn. I am perfect in both your parts, without
prompting. Mistress, here are two Christian friends
of mine have forfeited ships and men to the black-a-
morian king : now, one sweet word from your lips
might get their release. I have had a feeling of the
business already.
Mull. For dealing in commodities forbid,
You're fined a thousand ducats.
Bess. Cast off the burden of your heavy doom :
A follower of my train petitions for him.
72 THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST.
Mutt. One of thy train, sweet Bess ?
Glem. And no worse man than myself, sir.
Mull. Well, sirrah., for your lady's sake
His ship and goods shall be restored again.
1 Her. Long live the King of Fez !
Clem. Mayst thou never want sweet water, to wash
thy black face in, most mighty monarch of Morocco.
Mistress, another friend; ay, and paid beforehand.
Mull. Sirrah, your men, for outrage and contempt,
Are doomed unto the gallies.
Bess. A censure too severe for Christians.
Great Bang, I'll pay their ransom.
'Mutt. Then, my Bess,
Thy word shall be their ransom : they're discharged.
"What grave old man is that ?
Jojf. A Christian preacher ; one that would convert
Your Moors, and turn them to a new belief.
Mull. Then he shaH die, as we are King of Fez.
Bess. For these I only spake ; for him I kneel,
If I have any grace with mighty Fez.
Mutt. We can deny thee nothing, beauteous maid.
A kiss shall be his pardon.
Bess. Thuslpay't.
Glem. Must your black face be smouching
My mistress' white lips with a morian !
i would you had kissed her a
Ale. Hah! how is that, sir?
Glem. I know what I say, sir; I would he had kissed
her a
Ale. A what?
Clem. A thousand times, to have done him a pleasure.
Re-enter SPENCER* and GOOBLACK.
Mutt. That kiss was worth the ransom of a king.
What's he, of that brave presence ?
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 73
Bess. A gentleman of England, and my friend-
Do him some grace, for my sake.
Mull. For thy sake what would I not perform ?
He shall have grace and honour. Jqffer, go
And see him gelded to attend on us.
He shall be our chief eunuch.
Bess. Not for ten worlds I Behold, great King, I
stand
Betwixt him and all danger. Have I found thee ?
Seize what I have ; take "both my ship and goods ;
Leave naught that's mine unrifled : spare me him.
And have I found my Spencer ?
Clem. Please your majesty, I see all men are not
capable of honour : what he refuseth, may it please you
to bestow on me.
Mull. With all my heart. Go, bear him hence, -47-
cade,
Into our Alkedavy : honour him,
And let him taste the razor.
Clem. There's honour for me !
Ale. Come, follow.
Clem. No, sir ; I'll go before you, for mine honour.
\Esceunt.
Spenc. Oh! show yourself, renowned Bang, the same
Fame blazons you. Bestow this maid on me :
'Tis such a gift as kingdoms cannot buy.
She is a precedent of all true love,
And shall be register'd to after times,
That ne'er shall pattern her.
Goodl. Heard you the story of their constant love,
'Twould move in you compassion.
RougJi. Let not intemperate love sway you 'bove pity*
That foreign nation, that ne'er heard your name,
May chronicle your virtues.
Mull. You have waken'd in me an heroic spirit :
74 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Lust stall not conquer virtue. Till this hour,
We gracM thee for thy beauty, English woman;
But now we wonder at thy constancy.
Bess. Oh! were you of our faith, I'd swear great
Mullisheg
To be a god on earth. And lives my Spencer ?
In troth I thought thee dead.
Spenc. In hope of thee,
I liv'd to gain both life and liberty.
Enter CLEM, running.
Clem. No more of your honour, if you love me ! Is
this your Moorish preferment, to rob a man of his best
jewels?
MulL Hast thou seen our Alkedavy ?
Clem. Davy do you call him? he may be called
shavy : I am sure he hath tickled my current commo-
dity. No more your cutting honour, if you love me.
MulL All your strange fortunes we will hear discoursed,
And after that your fair espousals grace,
If you can find a man of your belief
To do that grateful office.
Spmc. None more fit
Than this religious and grave gentleman,
Lrate rescued from death's sentence.
Preacher. None more proud
To do you that poor service.
MulL Noble Englishman,
I cannot fasten bounty to my will
"Worthy thy merit : move some suit to us.
Speno. To make you more renown'd, great King, and us
The more indebted,, there's an Englishman
Hath forfeited his ship for goods uncustomed.
M uU. Thy suit is granted ere it be half begg'd :
Dispose them at thy pleasure.
THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST. 75
Bpenc. Mighty King,
"We are your Highness* servants.
Mull. Come, beauteous maid ; we'll see thee crown'd
a bride.
At all our pompous banquets these shall wait.
Thy followers and thy servants press with gold ;
And not the mean'st that to thy train belongs,
But shall approve our bounty. Lead in state,
And wheresoe'er thy fame shall be enroU'd,
The world report thou art a Girl worth Grold.
Eocplicit Actus quintus.
FINIS.
1TOIES TO
NOTES.
Page 5, line 12. "Persever," for persevere, was then the most usual
spelling and pronunciation of the word.
Page 6, line 1. This list is prefixed (without any heading) to the old
copy, and we have not in any respect varied from what we may suppose to
have been the author's arrangement of the characters of his play. We do
not here give any account of the performers, whose names follow the parts
they represented, because a full alphabetical list of all the actors on the
English stage, prior to the Kestoration, with such particulars of their
lives, &c., as hare come down to us, is one of the works in forward pro-
gress for the Members of our Society.
Page 6, line 25. Gales" was the old mode of spelling Cadiz; and,
as it is often necessary to preserve it, for the sake of the measure of the
verse, we have adopted it from the old copy, whenever it occurs. The
Earl of Essex, strictly speaking, was not " going to Gales" this voyage ;
for the expedition to Cadiz had been sent out in the preceding year.
The expedition of 1597 was against the Azores, and the Spanish East and
West India fleets: it was commonly called "the Island voyage."
Page 7, line 6. The Lord spoken of as about to put to sea, when the
wind should be fair, was, of course, the Earl of Essex, the great and
unfortunate favourite of Queen Elizabeth, who was appointed leader of
the expedition of 1597. It sailed in August of that year ; so that the
time of action in this play is very clearly ascertained.
Page 12, line 15. Go, let your master snick-up.] To " go snick-
up" has been usually considered equivalent to go hang; but here it
should seem that it has reference to drawing wine for the guests.
THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST. 77
Page 16, line 24. The old copy reads corruptly " From new supply
from thence." It was perhaps written by the author, u Some new supply
from thence."
Page 18, line 29. The dumh show was of course intended to
denote the departure of the General (the Earl of Essex) and his
followers on their Island voyage. The liberality and punctuality of
Essex in his payments are distinctly evinced by the discharge of the debts
owing by him and his officers, previous to his final departure on 17th
August. The " Hautboys" mentioned in the stage-direction played, as
was not unusual, during the dumb-show and the passage of the characters
across the stage.
Page 19, line 17, Explicit Actus primus.~\ So in the old copy; and
as the terminations of the other four acts are marked in the same way,
we thought it best to leave the drama, as far as possible, in the form in
which it came from Heywood's hand.
Page 20, line 1. The scene here changes to Foy, where Bess Bridges
is mistress of the Windmill tavern.
Page 20, line 31, Hath turned over your years to me.] *.e., Clem's
years of servitude : to turn over an apprentice from one master to another
is still the expression.
Page 21, line 26. Marry, the last dear year.] We learn from Stow,
(Annales, p. 1279) that in 1596, wheat was six, seVen, and eight shil-
lings per bushel: the dearth continued and increased in 1597; so that,
in August of that year, the bushel of wheat was sold for thirteen shil-
lings.
Page 24, line 16. I can tell them what is to be-tall.'] A pun founded
upon the German word bezahlen, which signifies to pay. Clem says that
he can tell them what is to pay with one word of his mouth.
Page 25, line 1 1. The exit of Clem is not marked in the old copy.
Page 25, line 20. Enter Spencer and Goodlack.] The scene here
changes to Fayal, in the Azores, after the taking of the place.
Page 26, line 5. That were before.] In the former scene of Act I.
Page 26, line 19. Atone this difference.] i.e., reconcile this differ-
ence at one it a sense in which the word often occurs in Shakespeare
and his contemporaries.
Page 27, line 1. Ought we not to read, in this line, " Sir, / have no
commission but my counsel ?"
78 NOTES TO
Page 29, line 3. Enter Bess Bridges.] It is hardly necessary to re-
mark that the scene here returns to England.
Page 29, line 17. Mary Ambree, or Westminster Long Meg.] A man-
dressing heroine, often mentioned by our old dramatists, whose achieve-
ments are celebrated in a well-known ballad in vol. ii. of Percy's Reliques.
Long Meg of Westminster, another masculine damsel, said to be of large
dimensions, has had her exploits celebrated in prose, in a tract printed
anterior to the close of the reign of Elizabeth, and reprinted in 1635.
In modern times, it has been revived in Miscellanea Antiqua Anglic ana,
4to., 1816.
Page 29, line 34. The exit of Clem is not marked in the old copy.
Bess, just before, has ordered him to be gone.
Page 30, line 28. And you lie.] We are to suppose that Bess retires
somewhat out of sight after her last speech, and now suddenly steps for-
ward.
Page 32, line 17. Now farewell.] It is evident that Bess Bridges
here makes her exit, but it is not marked ; nor is that of Koughman, nine
lines lower down.
Page 32, line 27. Enter two Sailors.] The scene is changed again to
the Azores, with the bustle of an embarkation for England.
Page 35, line 1. The scene at the opening of this act of course is in
England.
Page 35, line 3. This speech, in the old copy, is given to Forset, but
it is clearly an error.
Page 35, line 10. Little Davy, Cutting Dick.] Two characters of the
time, celebrated for their bravado and exploits. '
Page 35, line 28. See and the slave will stir!] This exclamation
might be more properly given, "See an the slave will stir!" but as the
conjunction aa, for if, was then very constantly written and printed and,
no alteration seemed necessary.
Page 36, line 35. Neither this exit by Clem, nor that of the Kitchen-
maid afterwards, is mentioned in the old copy.
Page 38, line 6, roasted or sod.] " Sod" is the old term for boiled.
Page 41, line 4. The Bong's lieutenant.] The Mayor ought to have
said, the Queen's lieutenant, the time being 1597; but, when this play
was written, the Mayor of Foy was the King's lieutenant.
Page 41, line 27. Exeunt Mayor and Alderman.] Not in the old
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 79
copy, but clearly necessary before Goodlack begins his soliloquy. The
sailors, who entered and who go out with him, may be supposed to have
stood back, out of hearing.
Page 42, line 5. Most dissolutely.] So Shakespeare, in " Merry
Wives of Windsor/' act i., sc. 1 "I am freely dissolved and disso-
lutely."
Page 45, line 12. Peter-see-me.] So called, from Pedro Ximenes, or
Peter Simon, (as the name has been corrupted) who imported vines
from Germany into Spain, and planted them near Malaga. Henderson's
" Hist, of Ancient and Modern Wines," 193. Peter-see-me is mentioned
times out of number in our old dramatists.
Page 45, line 23. Til furnish you with bastard.] The pun upon this
sweet wine (from the Mediterranean, and so called from the species of
grape) could hardly be avoided at any time.
Page 45, line 35. Rotten eggs.] From this and other authorities we
learn that eggs were used in the burning of sack.
Page 48, line 6. As this poor table.] 1.0., picture : the word was not
so usually applied to a portrait. A picture was called a table, because it
was generally painted on a board.
Page 49, line 28. A ging of lusty lads.] " Ging" is the old form
of gang, and it occurs in "The Merry Wives of Windsor," act iv., sc. 2.
It is also met with in Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour," (edit.
Gifford,i.,47) where the editor thought fit to change it to gang " An I
could not find in my heart to swinge the whole ging of 'em." Middleton
uses it twice; and the Rev. Mr. Dyce very properly preserves it, as one of
the ancient words of our language. It may be found in other dramatists
of the time of Shakespeare.
Page 50, line 1. The first scene of this act is evidently on board a
Spanish ship.
Page 50, line 20. There's no nobless in thee.] So Shakespeare, as
here, for the sake of the measure.
" Of noble Richard: then, true nobless would
Learn him forbearance, &c."
Richard JJ., act iv., sc 1.
Such is the reading of the earliest quarto, and is, of course, to be preferred
in opposition to all the later editions, which read nobleness. The word
"nobless" has also the authority of Ben Jonson for its employment.
80 NOTES TO
Page 51, line 8. About their censures.] i.e. t judgments,~or sentences :
as soon as they have punished the sauciness of Spencer, they will consider
about the sentences of the others. The word is used in the same way
afterwards.
Page 51, line 11. The scene returns to Foy.
Page 52, line 5. Exit.] These stage-directions are often omitted ;
and perhaps it may be enough to say now, that we have added them
only where they seem necessary for the due understanding of the scene.
Page 53, line 13. I have chang'd my copy.] A common expression,
in our old writers, to indicate an important or entire change.
Page 54, line 28. Poor- John.] The ordinary name for salt-fish, and
particularly for hake, salted and dried.
Page 55, Hue 14. Hautboys long*] Such is the stage-direction;
meaning, no doubt, that the instruments are to play for a long time, in
order to give opportunity for preparation, and a change of scene from
Foy to Fez. The first speech of the first speaker conveys this needful
intelligence to the auditory.
Page 56, line 31. Enter Bess, &c.] ".*., on board her victorious ship,
off Fayal, as we find just afterwards.
Page 58, line 16. The man that ought the field.] i.e, t owned (or
owed, as it was often printed) the field. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's
"Double Marriage," act iii., sc. 3
" She did it for her husband, and she ought it."
Page 59, line 2. A piece.] A piece of artillery is discharged from
the ship, against the church at Fayal.
Page 59, line 10. Bounce, quoth the gun.] Misprinted guns in the old
copy; but only one gun seems to have been fired.
Page 59, line 28. Up with your fights.] Fights were, technically,
defences placed round the ship, to protect the crew on deck.
Page 60, line 28. Now, you Don Diegos.] The allusions to this dirty
exploit of a Spaniard in St. Paul's are innumerable in our old drama-
tists, and for many years it continued a subject of reproach and laughter.
See Maddleton's "Blurt, Master Constable," act iv., sc. 3 ; Dekker and
Webster's "Sir Thomas Wyatt," 1607; "Beaumont and Fletcher's
"Captain," act iiL, sc. 2, &c. Those who wish for a more minute expla-
nation of the matter may consult the Rev. A.Pyce's edition of Webster's
Works, ii., 298, and iv., 293.
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 81
Page 61, line 15. I am a London, bound for Barbary.] The measure
is complete, but the word " merchant," after " London," is necessary for
the sense. Perhaps we ought to read Londoner.
Page 62, line 14. This omitted stage-direction (as well as some others
not specified) is clearly required.
Page 63, line 12. The words "Act long" are inserted to show that,
in order to make due preparation for what follows, the interval between
the fourth and fifth acts was longer than ordinary. On p. 55 we have
had " Hautboys long."
Page 68, line 15. I was a courtier, &c.] These lines (with the omis-
sion of one, and the substitution of Fez for Spain) form the commence-
ment of T. Kyd's celebrated drama, "The Spanish Tragedy," portions of
which have been quoted by so many authors, that is impossible to enu-
merate them. It was a most popular favourite, and seems to have been
especially so with all apprentices. For the original lines, see Dodsley's
Old Plays, last edit., vol. iii., p. 99.
Page 69, line 27. The word " Flourish," which is merely a stage-
direction, is printed in the old copy as part of the text; and in the next
line the word " sit" is misprinted jfa, by the common error of mistaking
the long s for f.
Page 71, line 7- Ballast with gold.] Perhaps more properly spelt
ballac'd, from the verb to ballace : we now say ballasted. Shakespeare,
"Comedy of Errors," act iii., sc. 2, uses "ballast" in the same way as
Hey wood. Fitzgeoffrey, in his sermon on the death of Sir A. Rous, 1622,
gives us the verb in its infinitive "and to ballace their knowledge with
judgment."
Page 71, line 8. Bess, we must suppose, makes this speech on ob-
serving Goodlack's sign to her respecting Spencer.
Page 71, line 15. The last part of this speech is addressed by Bess to
Goodlack; who, after ascertaining the fact that Spencer is living, must
have returned to the side of the heroine. The scene is confused, because,
in the old copy, the exit of Goodlack with Spencer is not marked.
Page 72, line 25. With a morian.] Clem here seems attempting a
sort of play upon the word murrain.
THE
FAIR MAID
OF THE WEST,
OR
A Girle worth gold.
The second part.
As It was lately acted before the King and Queen,
with approved liking.
By the Queen's Majesties Comedians.
Written by T. H.
LONDON,
Printed for Richard Royston, and are to be sold at his Shop
in Ivie Lane. 1631.
To the true favourer of the Muses, and of
all good Arts, Iliomas Hammon^
Esquire, of Grays Inn, &c.
The first part of this work I bestowed upon your friend,
Mr. John Othow, the second I have conferred upon you, both
being incorporated into one house, and noble society 5 the
proximity in your chambers, and much familiar conference,
having bred a mutual correspondency betwixt you. The
prime motive inviting me to this Dedication, the much love
and many courtesies reflecting upon me from you both ; being
the rather encouraged thereunto, that though the subject
itself carry no great countenance in the title, yet it hath not
only passed the censure of the Plebe and Gentry, but of the
Patricians and Pr&textatw; as also of our royal Augustus
and Lima. The reason why I have selected you my patrons
was to exclude myself from the number of those of whom
Juvenal speaks, Satire vii.
Scire volunt omnes, mercedem solvere nemo.
Please you, at any of your more leisured hours, to vouch-
safe the perusal of these slight papers, your acceptance shall
be my recompence. ' Receive my wishes for your earth'*
86 TO THOMAS HAMMOST, ESQ.
happiness in million*, for your heavenly bliss in myriads.
Taking my leave of you with that in Adelph.
Nunquam ita magnifice quicquam dicam,
Id virtus quin superet tua.
Yours, plenally devoted,
THOMAS HEYWOOIX
To the Reader.
Courteous Reader, if thou be'st tired in the first part, I
would not wish thee to be travailed in the second ; but I
hope much better, and that thou didst leave in the last, as
one that came late to his inn to rest himself for that night,
only with purpose to go on with the second, as he that riseth
early the next morning, (having refreshed himself) to pro-
ceed on his journey. By this time you cannot choose but be
acquainted with the most of our Acts, but not with all ; and
more particularly for Spencer and his western Bess. With
these countrymen of ours in their fellowship, you have heard
the beginning of their troubles, but are not yet come to the
end of their travels; in which you may accompany them on
land, without the prejudice of deep ways or robbers ; and by
sea, free from the danger of rocks or pirates, as neither using
horse or ship, more than this book in iJhine hand, and thy
chair in thy chamber. More compliment I purpose not, and
(I hope) thou expectest not. Farewell.
One studious to be thine,
T. H.
DEAMATIS PERSONS.
Tota, Queen of Fez, and wife of Mullisheg; by THEOPHILUS
BOUBNE.
Bashaw J r offer.
Roughman.
Clem, the Clown.
Bashaw Alcafa; by Mr. ANTHONY TURNER.
Mr. Spencer.
Capt. Goodlack
Forset.
Bess Bridges.
A Porter of the King's gate.
A Lieutenant of the Moors.
A Guard.
Atfegro.
A Chorus.
A Captain of the Banditti.
The Duke of Florence, TTith followers ; by Mr. JOHN SOMNER.
The Duke of Mantua; by ROB. AXELL.
The Duke ofFerrara; by CHRISTOPH. GOAD.
An English Merchant.
Two Florentine Lords.
Pedro Venture, General at sea for the Duke of Florence.
THE FAIR MAID
of the West;
Or,
A Girl worth Gold.
The Second Part.
Enter TOTA, MTJLLISHEQ'S Wife.
Tata. It must not, may not, shall not be eudur'd.
Left we for this our country, to be made
A mere neglected lady here in Fez?
A slave to others^ but a scorn to all?
Can -womanish ambition, heat of blood,
Or height of birth, brook this, and not revenge ?
Revenge ? On whom ? On mighty filullisheg 9
"We are not safe then. On the English stranger ?
And why on her, when there's no apprehension
That can in thought pollute her innocence ?
Yet something I must do. "What ! nothing yet ?
Nor must we live neglected : I should doubt
I were a perfect woman, but degenerate
From mine own sex, if I should suffer this.
I have a thousand projects in my brain,
But can bring none to purpose.
Enter BdsJiaie JOFJFJER.
Jqff. Call'd your majesty ?
90 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Tota. No; yet I think I did. Begone : yet stay.
Will not this misshapen embryo grow to form ?
Not yet? Nor yet?
Joff. I attend your Highness* pleasure.
Tota. Tis perfect and I ha' it.
I am ambitious but to think upon't ;
And if it prove as I have fashion'd it,
I shall be trophied ever.
Joff. I wait stilL
Tota. The King no way in peril; she secure;
None harm'd ; all pleas'd ; I sweetly satisfied,
And yet reveng ? d at foil Brain, I for this
Will wreathe thee in a glorious arch of gold,
Stuck fiill of Indian gems. But, Tota, whom
Wilt thou employ in this? The Moors are treache-
rous,
And them we dare not trust.
Joff. You need not me.
Tota. Say, where's the Bong ?
Joff. I' the presence.
Tota. How?
Joff. Distempered, late, and strangely humorous,
The cause none can conjecture.
Tota. Send in his sweetheart ;
And, were his own heart double ribb'd with brass,
Yet she would search the inmost of his thoughts.
No ; 'tis not her on whom I build my project.
Is the King upon his entrance ?
Joff. 'Tie thought he is.
If so, this strange sudden distemperature
Hath not his purpose alter'd.
Tota. You have now leave
To leave us, and attend the King.
Joff. I shall.
Tota. If any of the English lady V train
THE FAIR MAIJD OF THE WEST. 91
Come in your way, you may request them hither.
Say, I would question some things of their country.
Joff. Madam, I shaJL
Tota. Then in to your attendance. What we must,
We'll work by th' English : these we dare not trust.
Enter CLEM, meeting JOFFER.
Joff. 'Tis the Queen's pleasure you attend her.
Clem. The Queen speak with me ? Can you tell the
business ? A murrain of these barbers of Barbary ! they
have given me a receipt, that, scape the colic as well as
I can, I shall be sure never to be troubled with the
stone.
Joff. Yonder she walks. I leave ye. \_Exit*
Tota. Now, sir ; you are of England ?
Clem. And I think you are a witch.
Tota. How, sirrah?
Clem. A foolish pro verb we use in our country ; which,
to give you in other words, is as much as to say, you
have hit the nail on the head.
Tota. And servant to the English Elizabeth,
So great in court by mighty Mullisheff.
You follow her ?
Clem. I must confess, I am not her gentleman usher,
to go before her; for that way, as the case stands with
me now, I can do her but small pleasure. I do follow her.
Tota. You have seen both nations, England and our
Fez: How do our people differ?
Clem. Our countrymen eat and drink as yours do, for
all the world; open their eyes, when they would see,
and shut them again, when they would sleep : when
they go, they set one leg before another; and gape
when their mouths open, as yours ; eat when they havo
stomachs, scratch when it itcheth; only, I hold oia*
nation to be the cleanlier.
92 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST,
Tota. Cleanlier? Wherein ?
Clem. Because they never sit down to meat with such
foul hands and faces.
Tota. But how your ladies and choice gentlewomen ?
Clem. You shall meet some of them sometimes as
fresh as flowers in May, and as fair as my mistress, and
within an hour the game gentlewoman as black as your-
self, or any of your Morians.
Tota. Can they change faces so ? Not possible- Show
me some reason for't.
Clem. When they put on their masks.
Tota. Masks ? What are they ?
Clem. Please you to put off yours, and I'll tell you.
Tota. We wear none but that which Nature hath
bestowed on us, and our births give us freely.
Clem. And our ladies wear none but what the shops
yield, and they buy for their money.
Tota. Canst thoti be secret to me, Englishman ?
Clem. Yes, and chaste, too : I have ta'en a medicine
for't
Tota. Be fix'd to me in what I shall employ thee,
Constant and private unto my designs,
More grace and honour I will do to thee
Than e'er thou didst receive from Mullisheg.
Clem. Grace and honour I His grace and honour was
to take away some part, and she would honour mo to
take away aJL 111 see you damned as deep as the
black father of your generation, the devil, first !
Tata. Mistake me not.
Clem, Nay, if you were with child with a young
princely devil, and had a mind to any thing that's here,
I'd make you lose your longing,
Tota. Sure, this fellow is some sot.
Cletn. Grace and honour, quotha !
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 93
Enter KOUGHMAN.
Rough. How now, Clem ; whither in such post-haste ?
Clem. There, if you will have any grace and honour,
you may pay for't as dear as I have done. 'Sfoot ! I
have little enough left : I would fain carry away some-
thing into my own country.
Rough. Why, what's the matter ? I prithee stay.
Clem. No, Lieutenant, you shall pardon me : not I ;
the room is too hot for me. I'll be gone : do you stay
at your own peril. I'll be no longer a prodigal ; I'll
keep what I have. [Exit CLEM-
Tota. This should have better sense. I'll next prove
him.
Rough. Excuse me, mighty princess, that my boldness
Hath pressed thus far into your privacies.
Tota. You no way have offended. Nay, come near:
We love to grace a stranger.
Rough. 'Twas my ignorance,
And no pretended boldness.
Tota. I have observ'd you
To be of some command amongst the English ;
Nor make I question but that you may be
Of fair revenues.
Rough. A poor gentleman.
Tota. Well make thee rich. Spend that.
Rough. Tour grace's bounty
Exceeds what merit can make good in me.
I am your Highness* servant.
Tota. Let that jewel be worn as our high favour.
Rough. 'Sfoot ! I think
This Queen's in love with me. Madam, I shall.
Tota. If any favour I can do in court
Can make you farther gracious, speak it freely :
What power we have is yours.
94i THE FAIR MAID OP THE TTEST.
Rough. Doubtless it is so, and I am made for ever.
Tota. Nay, we shall take it ill
To give ourselves so amply to your knowledge,
And you not use us.
Rough. Use us ! Now, upon my life, she's caught.
What ! courted by a Queen a royal Princess ?
"Where were your eyes, Bess, that you could not see
These hidden parts and mysteries which this Queen
Hath in my shape observ'd? 'Tis but a fortune
That I was born to ; and I thank Heaven for't.
Tota. May I trust you?
Rough. With your lifej with your honour.
PI! be as private to you as your heart
Within your bosom ; dose as your own thoughts.
111 brag of this in England, that I once
Was favourite to a Queen. My royal mistress.
Tota. If what you have already promis'd you'll make
good,
I'll prove so.
Rough. Madam, let this
Tota. Wiat?
Rough. This kiss.
Tota. This fool I this ass ! tibis insolent gull I
Rough. Why, did not your grace mean plainly?
Tota. In what, sir?
Rough. Did you not court me ?
Tota. How! that face?
ThinVst thou I could love a monkey a baboon ?
Enow, were I mounted in the height of lust,
And a mere prostitute, rather than thee
I'd embrace one name but that creature
That thou dost thtnV most odious.
Rough. Pardon me, lady :
I humbly take my leave.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 95
Tata. Have I given you your description ? I pray,
sir,
Be secret in't.
Rough. I shall be loth to tell it,
Or publish it to any.
Tota. Yet you are not gone.
Know, then, you have incurr'd
The King's wrath first, our high displeasure next,
The least of which is death. Yet, will you grow
More near to us, and prove loyal unto my present pur-
poses,
I will not only pardon you what's past,
But multiply my bounties.
Rough. I am your prisoner.
Tota. Be free: there's nothing that can be called
offence,
But that in thee we pardon.
Rough. I am fast.
Tota. Ajid yet a free man. I am injured highly,
And thou must aid me in my just revenge.
Rough. Were it to combat the most valiant Moor
That ever Fez, Morocco, or Argiers bred,
I for your sake would do it.
Tota. We seek nor blood.
Nor to expose thee to the least of danger.
I am modest ; and what I dare not trust my own tongue
with,
Or thoughts, HI boldly give unto thine ears.
List. Do you shake your head ? Say ; is't done al-
ready?
Rough. Wrong my friend?
Tota. Do you cast doubts or dangers? Is not our life,
Our honour, all in your hand, and will you lavish us,
Or scant that bounty should crown you with excess ?
Rough. Ill pause upon't.
96 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Tota. Is not your life ours, by your insolence ?
Have we not power to take it ?
Rough. Say no more : I'll do it.
Tota. But may I hope ?
Rough. I have cast all doubts, and know how it may
be compass'd.
Tota. There's more gold : your secrecy, that's all I
crave.
Rough. To prove myself in this just cause I have,
An honest man, or a pernicious knave.
Tota. Take the advantage of this night.
Rough. I shall expect fair end.
All doubts are cast.
Tota. So make a Queen thy friend. [Recorders.
Enter MTTLLISHEG, JOFFER, and ALCADE, SPENCER,
GrOGDLACK, BESS, and the rest.
Mull. All music's harsh: command these discords
cease;
For we have war within us.
Bess. Mighty King,
What is't offends your Highness ?
Mutt. Nothing, Bess.
Yet all things do. Oh, what did I bestow,
When I gave her away I
Bess. The Queen attends you.
MuU. Let her attend.
Tota. Ay, King. Neglected still,
My just revenge shall wound, although not kill.
MuU. I was a traitor to my own desires,
To part with her so slightly. What I no means
To alter these proceedings ?
Spenc. Strange disturbances.
Goodl What might the project be ?
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 97
Ale. May it please your highness, shall the Masque
go forward,
That was intended to grace this jovial night ?
MulL We'll have none. Let it he treason held
To any man that shall but name our pleasure,
Or that vain word, delight. The more I gaze,
The more I surfeit ; and the more I strive
To free me from these fires, I am deeper wrapt :
In flames I hum.
Spenc. Your discontent, great Prince, takes from
us all
The edge of mirth. These nuptial joys, that should
Have swell'd our souls with all the sweet varieties
Of apprehensive wishes, with your sadness
Grow dull and leaden : they have lost their taste.
In this your discontent, all pleasures lose their sweetness.
Bess. Mighty Fez, hath any ignorant neglect in us
Bred these disturbances ?
Mull. Offence and you
Are like the warring elements, oppos'd.
And Fez, why a king, and not command thy pleasure ?
Is she not within our kingdom? Nay, within our
palace ?
And therefore in our power. Is she alone
That happiness that I desire on earth ?
"Which, since the heavens have given up to mine hands,
Shall I despise their bounty and not rather
Run through a thousand dangers, to enjoy
Their prodigal favours ? Dangers ! Tush I there's none.
We are here amidst our people, walTd with subjects
round,
And danger is our slave : besides, our war
Is with weak woman. Oh I but I have sworn
And seaTd to her safe conduct. What of that ?
Can a king swear against his own desires,
98 THE PAIR MAID OF THE "WEST.
Whose welfare is the sinews of his realm ?
I should commit high treason 'gainst myself,
Not to do that might give my soul content,
And satisfy my appetite with fulness. Alcade !
Ale, My Lord.
Mull. Rides the English Negro still within the har-
bour?
Ale. Some league from land.
Mull. Lest that these English should attempt escape,
Now they are laden fully with our bounties,
Cast thou a watchful eye upon these two*
Ale. I shall.
Mull I know their love's so fervent and entire,
They will not part asunder she leave him,
Or he without her make escape to sea.
Then, while the one's in sight, our hope's are safe.
Be that thy charge.
Ale. Ill be an Argus o'er them.
OoodL Unless the King be still in love with Bess,
Repenting him of their late marriage,
'Tis beyond wonder to calculate these storms.
Hull. How goes the hour ?
Ale. About some four.
Mull. We rose too soon, Bess, from your nuptial
feasts :
Something we tasted made us stomach sick,
But now we find a more contentful change.
Bess. Tour sunshine is our day.
Mutt. Dispose yourselves
All to your free desires; to dancing some,
Others to mount our stately Barbary horse,
So famous through the world for swift career,
Stomach, and fiery pace. Those that love arms,
Mount for the tilt : this day is yours ; to you 'tis conse-
crate.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 99
He commits treason in the highest degree
Whose cloudy brow dares the least tempest show,
To cross what we intend. Pleasure shall spring
From us to flow on you.
All. Long live the King !
Mull. To your free pastimes : leave us.
\13aseunt. Manent GOODLACK and MULLISHEG.
Captain, stay. Captain, I read a fortune in thy brow,
More than the slight presage of augury,
Which tells me thou, and only thou, art mark'd
To make me earthly blest.
Goodl. Thatlcando't?
Mull. It lies in thee to raise thy ruin'd fortunes
As high as is a Viceroy's, wreathe thy front
Within a circled piramis of gold,
And to command, in all our territories,
Next to our person.
Goodl. Golden promises.
Mull. Our words are acts, our promises are deeds ;
We do not feed with air : it lies in thee.
We two may grapple souls, be friends and brothers,
Goodl. Teach me how.
Mull. I do not find thee coming : in thy looks
I cannot spy that fresh alacrity,
Which, with a glad and sprightful forwardness,
Should meet our love half way.
Goodl. You wonder me.
Mutt. No ; thou art dull, or fearfuL Fare thee well :
Thou hadst a fate laid up to make thee chronicled
In thy own country, but thou wilt basely lose it,
Even by thine own neglect.
Goodl. Porspeak me not.
The sun ne'er met the summer with more joy
Than I'd embrace my fortunes ; but to you,
Great King, to whom I am so greatly bound*
H2
100 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
I'd purchase't with a danger should fright earth,
Astonish heaven, and make all hell to tremble :
I am of no shrinking temper.
MulL Prove but as wise as thou art bold and valiant,
And gain me wholly to thee : half thou hast already
Purchas'd by this bold answer; but perform
The rest, and we are all and only thine.
Goodl. Show me the way to gain this royal purchase ;
If I do't not, divide me from your presence,
Prom your grace; and all those glorious hopes you have
propos'd
Turn into scorns and scandals.
MulL I am dull
And drowsy on the sudden : whilst I sleep,
Captain, read there.
[He counterfeits sleep, and gives Mm a letter.
Goodl. To make Bess mine, some secret means devise
To thy own 'height and heart TU make thee rise.
Is not this fay the blood of basilisks,
That kills me in the eyes, and blinds me so,
That I can read no further ? 'twas composed
Of dragons' poison, and the gall of asps ;
Of serpents' venom, or of vipers' stings ;
It could not read so harsh, else. Oh, my fate !
Nothing but this ? This ? Had a parliament
Of fiends and furies in a synod sat,
And devis'd, plotted, parleyed and contriv'd,
They scarce could second this. This? 'tis unparalleled.
To strumpet a chaste lady ; injure him
That rates her honour dearer than his life ;
T' employ a friend in treasons 'gainst his friend,
And put that friend to do't : t'impose on me
The hateful style and blot of pandarism,
That am a gentleman : nay, worse than this,
Make me in this a traitor to my country,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 101
In giving up their honours. Who but a Moor,
Of all that bears man's shape, likest a devil,
Could have devis'd this horror? Possible
That he should mark out me ? What does my face
Prognosticate, that he should find writ there
An. index of such treasons ? But beware :
'Twas his own plot; ay, and his cunning, too ;
111 add that to his project. But a Viceroy,
And a King's minion, titles that will shadow
Ills the most base and branded. Not to do it,
May purchase his displeasure, which can be
No less than death, or bondage. Here's propos'd
Honour and peril But what writes he farther?
We are impatient of delays ; this night
Let it be done.
I am doubtful of my purpose,
And can resolve of nothing.
^MTTLLIBHEG starts out of his chair ^ as from a dream.
Mull. If he fail,
I'll have his flesh cut small as winter's snow,
Or summer's atoms.
Goodl. Ha ! was that by us ?
Mull. Where was I? Oh! I dream'd upon the
sudden:
How fast was I.
Goodl. A fair warning 'twas. Have you the cunning
To speak your thoughts in dreams !
Mull. Who's i'th" next room?
Goodl. My Lord.
Mull My Captain, was it thou ?
Sleep did surprise my senses, worthy friend,
And in my dreams I did remember thee.
GoodL How me, my Lord ?
Mull. Methought I had employ'd thee in a business
lu which thou wort or fearful, or else false ;
102 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
At which I was so overcome with rage.
That from my dreams I started,
GoodL Seamen say,
When Halcyons sing, look for a storm that day :
There's death in my denial
Mutt. Did you read
That scroll we gave you, Captain ? There's wrapt up
A thousand honours for thee, and more gold
Than, shouldst thou live a double Nestor's age,
Thou couldst find ways to lavish.
GoodL Add to your work a business of more danger,
That I may think me worthy ; otherwise,
This slight employment will but prize me low.
And of desertless merit.
Mull. Think'st thou, Captain,
It may be easily compass'd ?
GoodL Dare you trust me ?
Mull. I dare.
GoodL Then know, besides to dare and can,
I will, though work beyond the power of man,
I'll set my brains in action.
Mull. Noble friend,
Above thy thoughts our honours shall extend.
Goodl. I am not to be shaken.
Mull. "Where be our eunuchs ?
We'll crown our hopes and wishes with more pomp
And sumptuous cost than Priam did his son's,
That night he bosom'd Helen : she's as fair,
And we'll command our pomp to be as rare.
We will have torches shall exceed the stars
In number and in brightness : we will have
Hare change of music shrill and high,
That shall exceed the spheres in harmony.
The jewels of her habit shall reflect,
To daze all eyes that shall behold her state.
THE FAIB MAIB OF THE WEST. 103
Our treasure shall like to a torrent rush
Streams of rewards, richer than Tagus' sands,
To make these English strangers swim in gold.
In wild moriscos we will lead the bride ;
And when with full satieties of pleasures
We are dull and satiate, at her radiant eyes
Kindle fresh appetite, since they aspire
T'exceed in brightness the high orbs of fire.
Make this night mine, as we are TTi-ng of Fez,
Th'art Viceroy, Captain. \EaAt MULLISHEG.
GoodL Make my estate much less,
And my attempts more honourable. Honour and
virtue
To me seem things in opposition ;
Nor can we with small danger catch at one,
But we must lose the other. Oh, my brain,
In what a labyrinth art thou I Say I could
Be false, as he would make me, what device,
What plot, what train have I to compass it ?
Or with what face can I solicit her,
In treason towards my friend ?
Enter ROTTGHFTMAN.
Hough. I am to solicit Spencer
To lie with the Moor's Queen; a business Bess
Will hardly thank me for: but, howsoever,
I have underta'en it
GoodL Impossibilities all : the more I wade,
' The more I drown in weakness.
Hough. Captain.
Goodl. Oh! Lieutenant,
Never was man perplex'd thus.
Rough. What I as you ?
Had you but my disturbance in your brain,
'Twould tax a stoic's wit, 'or CEdipus.
104 THE FATB MAID OF THE WEST.
Why, Captain, a whole school of sophisters
Could not unriddle me.
GoodL I would we might change business.
Rough. I would give boot so to be rid of mine.
GoodL Shall we be free and open-breasted ?
Hough. How?
Goodl. As thus :
Tell me thy grievances, and unto thee
I will unveil my bosom : both disclos'd,
111 beg in mine thy counsel and assistance;
Thy cause shall mine command.
Rough. A heart, a hand.
Goodl. I am to woo fair Bess to lie with Mullislwg.
Rough. And I woo Spencer to embrace the Queen*
GoodL Is't possible ?
Rough. 'Tis more than possible ; 'tis absolutely past.
GoodL There's not a hair to choose. Canst counsel
me?
Rough. Can you advise me?
Goodl. I am past my wits.
Rough. And I beyond all sense.
. Goodl. Wouldst thou do't, here lay the way plain
before thee?
Rough. What I for gold betray my Mend and country?
Would you, Captain?
GoodL What I and wear a sword
To guard my honour and a Christian's faith ?
Td flesh it here first !
Rough. Nobly resolved.
GoodL We are not safe, Lieutenant. Moors are
treacherous.
Nay, come, thy counsel: Fez hath proffered me
The honour of a Viceroy ; and withal,
If I should fail performance, cunningly
Hath threatened me with death.
THE FAIR MAID OB 1 THE WEST. 105
Hough. You still propose
The clanger, but you show no way to clear them.
GoodL Brain, let me waken thee. 'Sfoot I hast thou
no project ? Dost thou partake my dulness ?
Hough. The more I strive, the more I fl^r* entangled.
GoodL And I, too. Not yet ?
Hough. Nor yet, nor ever.
GoodL 'Twas coming here, and now again 'tis vanish'd.
Hough. CalTt back again, for Heaven's sake.
GoodL Again.
Hough. Thanks, Heaven!
GoodL And now again 'tis gone.
Rough. Can you not catch fast hold on't ?
GoodL Give me way.
Let's walk, Lieutenant : could a man propose
A stratagem to gull this lustful Moor,
To supply him, and then to satiate her?
Hough. Good.
GoodL Next, out of all these daggers secure us,
And keep our treasure safe.
Hough. 'Twere excellent.
GoodL But how shall this be done ?
Hough. Why, Captain, know not you ?
GoodL Thinkst thou it in the power of man to work it ?
Yet come, IH try ; I owe my fate a death.
Be sway'd by me in all things.
Hough. Noble Captain, I do not wish to outlive thee.
106 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
ACTUS SECTJNDUS, SCENA PBIMA.
Enter SPENCER, BESS, and CLEM.
Spenc. The !Kg was wondrous pleasant. Oh ! my
Bess,
How much am I indebted to his highness,
Only for gracing thee.
Bess. Could my Spencer
Think that a barbarous Moor could be so train'd
In human virtues ?
Clem. Fie upon't ! I am so tired with dancing with
these same black she chimney-sweepers, that I can
scarce set the best leg forward : they have so tired me
with their moriscos, and I have so tickled them with
our country dances, Settmger's round, and Tom Tiler.
We have so fiddled it I
Spene. Sirrah, what news will you tell to your friends,
when you return into England ?
Clem. First and foremost, I have observed the wisdom
of these Moors: for some two days since, being invited
to one of the chief bashaws to dinner, after meat, seated
by a huge fire, and feeling his ahiTiR to burn, I requested
Tnm to pull back his chair, but he very understandingly
sent for three or four masons, and removed the chimney.
The same Moorian entreated me to lie with hi ; and I,
according to the state of my travels, willing to have a
candle burning by, but he by no means would grant it:
I asked him why. " No," says he 3 ** well put out the
light, that the fleas may not know where to find us. M
Enter GOOIXLACK and BOUGHMAJST.
Spenc. No storm at sea could be so tyrannous,
Nor half th* affright bear in his forehead bare,
As I spy in that look.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 107
Bess. Let not your looks presage more terrors than
Your tongues can speak : out with't at once^ Lieutenant.
Spenc. Captain* speak.
Goodl. Ware all lost.
Rough. All shipwrecked.
Clem. Are we ashore, and shall we be cast away?
Spenc, Great Mulllsheg is royal.
GoodL False to you.
Bess. Gracious and kind.
Rough. Disloyal to us all.
Spenc. Wrap me not in these wonders, worthy friend.
The very doubt of what the danger is,
Is more than danger can be.
Bess. Be it death,
So we may die together, here's a heart
Fear never could affright.
GoodL The King still loves your Bess.
Spenc. Hah!
Bough. The Queen your Spencer.
Bess. How?
GoodL This night he must enjoy her.
Rough. And she JiTTn.
Spenc. A thousand deaths are in that word con-
triv'd.
Ill make my passage through the blood of Kings,
Rather than suffer this.
Bess. I through hell,
Or were there place more dangerous.
GoodL Else all die.
Clem. Die ? 'Sfoot I this is worse than being made
an eunuch, as I was.
Speno* We have yet life, and therefore cherish hope.
GoodL All hopes are barush'd in the deep abyss
Of our perplexed thoughts.
Rough. All things run to retrograde.
103 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Bess. "Why, Captain, why, Lieutenant, had you the
skill
To bring my ship thus far, to wreck her here ?
Pass'd you the ocean, to perish in the harbour ?
Thou, Tom Goodlack,
Wert ever true and just to my designs,
And canst thou fail me now ?
Goodl. I study for you.
Bess. Hast thou brought me but to see my Spencers
shadow,
And not enjoy the substance ? for what more
Have I yet had from him, than from his picture,
That once hung in my chamber ? Grentlemen, amongst
you all,
Rescue an innocent maid from violence ;
Or do but say it cannot be prevented,
I begin, he that best loves me, follow.
Spenc. What means Bess f
Goodl. If it could be fashion'd to my thoughts*
And have success, 'twere brave.
Spenc. What, noble friend?
Goodl. To thrive but as we purpose.
Spenc. Have you way?
Goodl. 'Tis but a desperate course j and if it fail,
The worst can be but death ; and I, even I,
That laid the plot, will teach them how to die.
PU lead them on.
Spenc. If thou hast any project
Bess. Joy or comfort
Hough. And if not comfort, counsel
Goodl Say it thrive?
Spenc. What, Captain? what?
Goodl. You'll rip it from the womb
Ere it be fully hatch'd.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 109
Now, if it prosper but to my desire
And wishes, 'twere admirable.
Spenc. No longer liold us in suspense, good Captain,
But free us from these fears.
GoodL You, noble friend,
This night cast gracious eyes upon the Queen.
Bess. And prove to me disloyal ?
GoodL Still you cross me,
And make the birth abortive. You, fair Bess,
With amorous favours entertain the King.
8penc. And yield herself to his intemperate lust ?
GoodL You still prevent me : either give me way,
To show you light unto your liberties,
Or still remain in darkness.
Mough* Hear him out.
GoodL You soothe the Queen, Til flatter with the
King.
Liet's promise fair on both sides say 'tis done
All to their own desires.
+&penc. The event of this ?
GoodL A happy freedom, with a safe escape
Unto our ship this night.
Bess. Oh, could this be !
GoodL Fortune assists the valiant and the bold:
We'll bid fair for't. I had forgot myself:
Where's Clem 9 ]
Clem. Noble Captain.
GoodL Post to the ship ; bid Forset man the long boat
With ten good musketeers, and at a watchword,
If we can free our passage, take us in.
Nay, make haste j one minute's stay is death.
Clem. I am gone in a twinkling.
GoodL To compass the King's signet; then, to com-
mand
Our passage, 'scape the gates and watches too :
110 THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
For that I have brain. The Kong's upon his entrance.
Hours waste, revels come on, a thousand projects
Of death, hopes, and fears, are warring
In my bosom, and at once.
Eye you the Queen, and humour you the King ;
Let no distaste nor discontented brow
Appear in you : their lust Til make the ground
To set all free, or keep your honour sound.
Disperse; the King's on coming. [Flourish*
Enter MuLLiSHEG, TOTA, JOFFEB, and ALCADE.
Mutt. We consecrate this evening, beauteous bride,
To th' honour of your nuptials. Is all done ?
GoodL Done.
Tota. Is he ours?
Rough. Yours.
Tota. And we ever thine.
GoodL Ay, and so cast, that she shall grasp you freely,
And think she hugs her Spencer.
Rough. And when he bosoms you, think he enfolds
His lovely Bess.
Tota. Thou mak'st a queen thy servant.
GoodL Your highness 9 signet, to command our passage
From chamber to chamber.
Mutt. 'Tis there.
Goodl. The word.
Mutt. Tis Muttisheg.
GoodL This must bring us safe aboard.
Mutt. We keep the bride
Too long from rest; now she is free &r bed.
Tata. Please her to accept it,
In honour of her beauty; this night I'll do her any ser-
vice.
Sees. Mighty Princess,
Excuse iny breeding from such arrogance
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 1 1 1
And overbold presumption, you nor yours
Can own me any duty : 'tis, besides,
The fashion of our country, not to trust
The secrets of a nuptial night like this
To the eyes of any stranger.
Tota. At your pleasure.
Bess. With our first night's unlacing, mighty Queen,
We dare not trust our husbands ; 'tis a modesty
Our English maids profess.
Mull. Keep your own customs, as you shall think
best.
So for this night we leave you to your rest.
Tota. Remember.
Rough. 'Tis writ here.
Midi. Captain. \Esceunt: manet GOODLACK.
GoodL I am fast.
Now is my task in labour, and is plung'd
In thousand throes of child-birth. Dangerous it is
To deal where kings* affairs are questioned,
Or may be parleyed; but what's he so base,
That would not all his utmost powers extend,
For freedom of his country and his friend.
When all the court is silent, sunk in dreams,
Then must my spirits awake. By this the King
Has ta'en his leave of bride and bridegroom too ;
And th* amorous Queen longs for some happy news
From Roughman, as great Fez expects from us.
My friend and Hess, wrapt in a thousand fears,
To find my plot in action ; and it now
Must take new life. Auspicious Fate, thy aid,
To guard the honour of this English maid. \Exit.
Enter ROUGHMAN, ushering the Quern.
Rough. Tread soft, good madam.
Tota. Is this the chamber?
112 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Hough. Til bring him instantly.
He thinks this bed provided for his Bess,
And thart she lodges here, while she, poor soul,
Embraceth naught but air.
Tota. Thou mak'st a queen thy servant.
Hough. Beware; be not too loud, lest that youi
tongue betray you.
Tota. Mute as night ;
As silent and as secret. Wrongs should be
Paid with wrongs, for so indeed 'tis meet;
My just revenge, though secret, yet 'tis sweet.
Haste time, and haste our bounty. \E&it.
Rough. Queen, I shall.
So, now were we all safe, and in our Negro shipp'd,
Might'st thou lie there till doomsday, lustful Queen.
\J8snt.
Enter GTOOIKLACE: and tfie King.
GoocR. My Lord, the custom is in England still
For maids to go to bed before their husbands :
It saves their cheek from many a modest blush*
King. And in the dark.
GoodL "We use it for the most part.
King* Soft may their bones lie in their beds of ashes,
That brought this custom into England first.
GoodL This is the place where Bess expects her
King. Thou Viceroy of Argiers for, Captain, that
Is now thy title thou hast won a King
To be thy breast companion/
GoodL Not too loud.
Why enters not your highness ? You are safe.
King. With as much joy as to our prophet's rest.
But what thinks Spencer of this ?
GoodL I have shifted in her place
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 1 ] 3
A certain Moor, whom I have hired for money,
Which (poor soul) he entertains for Bess.
King. My excellent friend.
Goodl. Beware of conference, lest your tongue reveals
What this safe darkness hides*
King. I am all silent.
Oh ! thou contentful night, into thy arms,
Of all that e'er I tasted, sweetest and best,
I throw me, more for pleasure than for rest.
\_Exit King.
Goodl. One fury clasp another, and there beget
Young devils between you, so fair Bess be safe.
I have here the King's signet ; this will yield us
Way through the court and city : Bess being mask'd,
How can she be descried, when none suspect,
Our flight this day not dreamt on ? Now to execute
What was before purposed, which if it speed,
I'll say the heavens have in our fates agreed. {Eait.
Enter BESS, SPENCEB, and BOUGHMAN.
Speno. How goes the night ?
Rough. 'Tis some two hours from day.
Bess. Yet no news from the Captain.
Rough. I have done a midwife's part : I have brought
the Queen to bed ; I could do no more.
Enter GOODLACK.
Spenc. The Captain is come.
Bess. Thy news?
Goodl. All safe. Faith, wench, I have put them to it
for a single combat : I have left them at it.
Bess. "K"i"g and Queen ?
Goodl. The same.
Rough. Now for us.
Goodl. Ay, there's all the danger : there's one Bashaw,
114 THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Whose eye is fix'd on Spencer, and he now
Walks e'en before our lodging.
Bess, Then, what's past
Is all yet to no purpose.
Goodl. He and I
May freely pass the court ; and you, fair Bess,
I would disguise : but then for Spencer ?
Bess. Why, that's the main of all: all, without hia
freedom,
That we can a-i at's nothing.
Spenc. It shall be thus, which alter none that loves me.
With this signet you three shall pass to th' ship :
Whilst I'm in sight, she will not be suspected.
My escape leave to my own fair fortune.
Bess. How that?
Spenc. Through twenty Bashaws I will hew my way,
But I will see thee ere morning.
Bess. Think'st thou, Spencer,
That I will leave thee ? Thinkfst thou that I can ?
Thou mayst as \7ell part body from the soul,
As part us now : it is our wedding night ;
Wouldst now divide us ?
Spenc. Yield to time's necessities,
And to our strict disasters.
Goodl. Words are vain.
We now must cleave to action : our stay's death ;
And if we be not quick in expedition,
We all perish.
Spenc. Bess 9 be sway'd.
Bess. To go to sea without thee,
And leave thee subject unto a tyrant's cruelty ?
Ill die a thousand deaths first,
Spenc. First save one,
And by degrees the rest. When thou hast pass'd
The perils of this night, I am half safe ;
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 115
But whilst thou art environ'd, more than better
Half of my part's endanger'd.
Goodl. Talk yourselves
To your deaths, do : will you venture forth ?
Leave me to the Bashaw.
Roitgh. Or me : I'll buffet with Tiinr> for my passage.
Spenc. Neither : in what I purpose I am constant.
Conduct her safe : th* advantage of the night
I'll take for my escape 5 and, my sweet Bess,
If in the morning I behold thee not
Safe within my Negro, be assur'd
I am dead. Nay, now, delays are vain.
Bess. Sir, did you love me,
You would not stay behind me.
Spenc. Ill ha't so.
Gentlemen, be chary of this jewel
That throws herself into the arms of night
Under your conduct. If I live, my Bess*
To-morrow I'll not fail thee*
Bess. And if thou diest to-morrow, be assur'd
To-morrow I'll be with thee.
Speno. Shall thy love
Betray us all to death ?
Bess. Well, I will go;
But if thou dost miscarry, think the ocean
To be my bride-bed*
Spenc. Heaven for us 1
That power that hath preserved us hitherto,
"Will not let's sink now. And, brave gentlemen,
Of the Moor's bounty bear not any thing
Unto our ship, lest they report of us
We fled by night, and robb'd them.
Goodl. Nobly resolv'd,
Spenc. Now embrace and part ; and my sweet Bess,
This be thy comfort 'gainst all future fears,
r 2
116 THE FAIR 3VIAID OF THE WEST.
To meet in mirth that now divide in tears :
Farewell, Bess. I'll back into my chamber.
Bess. Can I part with life
In more distracted horror ?
Goodl. You spoil all
That we before have plotted.
"Will you mask yourself ? and to the Porter first.
Ho! Porter!
Porter. Who calls?
Goodl, One from the King.
Porter. How shall I know that ?
Goodl. This token be your warrant t behold his signet.
\_Porter '.] That's not enough : the word ?
Goodl. Alullisheff.
Porter. Pass freely. Some weighty business is in
hand.
That the King's signet is abroad so late.
But no matter ; this is my discharge : I'll to my rest,
[Exit Porter.
Enter Bashaw ALCADE.
Ale. I much suspect,
These English 'mongst themselves are treacherous.
I have observed, the King had conference with the
Captain: many whisperings and passages I have ob-
served ; but that which makes me most stispect ie, be-
cause the King hath removed his lodging, and it may
be to prostitute the English maid. Hah ! suspect, said
I? nay, examine things exactly, and't must needs be
so : the King is wondrous bountiful, and what is't gold
cannot? Troth, I could even pity the poor forlorn
Englishman, who this night must be forced to lie alone,
and have the King taste to him.
THE PAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 117
Enter SPENCER.
Spenc. Sure, this Moor hath been made private to
the King's intents, which if I find, Fll make him the
instrument for me to pass the Court gates. This man,
whose office was to keep me, shall be the only means to
free me.
Ale. On his marriage night, and up at this hour!
Nay, if I once suspect, 'tis as firm as if it were confirmed
by Alcoran, or Mahomet himself had sworn it. I'll sport
myself with his distaste and sorrow.
Spenc. Thus abus'd.
Ale. What ! up so late, and on your bridal night,
When you should lie lull'd in the fast embrace
Of your fair mistress. I hope I have given't him
soundly.
Spenc. Is't possible,
To lodge my bride in one place, and dispose me
To a wrong chamber? she not once send to me,
That I might know to find her.
Ale. Excellent!
Nay, if I once suspect, it never fails.
Spenc. HI not take 't
At the hands of an Empress, much less at hers.
Ale. Why, what's the business, si*? Oh! I guess
the cause of your grief.
Spenc. And, sir, you may; but Til be revenged.
Ale. Troth, and I would.
Spenc. HI bosom somebody,
Be it the common'st courtezan in Fez,
If not for love, to vex her.
Ale. Can you do less ?
Spenc. To leave me the first night.
Ale. Oh I 'twas a sign she never dearly lovM you.
Spenc. I perceive, Bashaw Alcade, you understand
my wrongs.
118 THE FAIK MAID OF THE WEST.
Ale. In part, though not in whole.
Spenc. Tour word is warrant : pass me the Court gate.
Ill to some loose bordello, and tell her when I have done.
Ale. Were it my cause, I'd do this, and more.
Speno. Make me wait thus 1
Ale. Oh! sir, 'tis insufferable.
Spene. Troth, I dally my revenge too long. What, ho !
Enter Porter.
Porter. How now! Who calls?
Ale. Here's Bashaw Alcade : turn the key.
Porter. His name commands my gate : pass freely.
Spenc. Sir, I am bound to you.
To take this wrong, I should be held no man.
Now to the watch ; 'scape there as I can. \Exit.
Ale. Ha, ha ! so long as she sleeps in the arms of
Fez, let Tnm pack where he pleases. Porter^ now he's
without, let him command his entrance no more, neither
for reward nor entreaty, till day breaks.
Porter. Sir, he shall not.
Ale. 'Tis well we are so rid of him : Mullislieg will
give me great thanks for this.
HI to his chamber, there attend without.
Till he shall, waken from his drowsy rest,
And then acquaint him with this fortunate jest.
\Exit.
A larum. Enter JOFFEB, Lieutenant ; SPENCER prisoner ^
and wounded.
Jqff. Sir, though we wonder at your noble deeds,
Yet I must do the office of a subject,
And take you prisoner. By that noble blood
That runs in these my veins, when I behold
The daughter you have made, which wonders me,
I wish you had escap'd, and not been made captive
THE FAIB atATD OP THE WEST. ] 19
To him, who though he may admire and love you,
Yet cannot help you.
Spenc. Your style is like your birth, for you are Joffer,
Chief Bashaw to the King ; and him I know
Lord of most noble thoughts. Speak: what's my
danger?
Joff. Know, sir, a double forfeit of your life.
Your outrage first is death, being in the night.
And 'gainst the watch; but those that you have
slain
In this fierce conflict brings it without all bounds
Of pardon.
Speno. I was born to't, and I embrace my fortune.
Joff. Sir, now I know you
To be that brave and worthy Englishman,
So highly grac'd in Court, which more amazeth me,
That you should thus requite hi with the slaughter
Of his lov'd subjects.
Spenc. I entreat you, sir,
As you are noble, question me no farther:
I have many private thoughts that trouble me,
And not the fear of death.
Joff. We know your name, and now have provM your
courage :
Both these move us to give you as easy bondage
As our loyalty to the King can suffer.
You are free from irons.
Speno. When this news shall come to her 1
Joff. Lieutenant, lead the watch some distance off;
Bid them remove those bodies lately slain :
I must have private conference with this prisoner.
Leave him to my charge.
Sir, think me, though a Moor,
A nation strange unto you Christians,
Yet that I can be noble : but in you
120 THE FAIR MAID OF THE TTEST.
I have observed strange contrarieties,
"WTrich I would be resolv'd in.
Spenc. Speak your thoughts.
Jofi "When I conferred the nobleness of your blood
With this your present passion, I much muse
Why either such a small effuse of blood*
These your slight wounds, or the pale fear of death,
Should have the power to force a tear from such
A noble eye.
Spenc. Why, think'st thou, Bashaw,
That wounds, blood, or death,
Could force a tear from me ? Thou noblest of thy
nation,
Do not so far misprize me. I tell thee, Bashaw,
The rack, strappado, or the scalding oil,
The burning pincers, or the boiling lead,
The stakes, the pikes, the cauldron, or the wheel,
"Were all these tortures to be felt an once,
Could not draw water hence.
Joff. Whence comes it, then ?
Spenc. From that whose pains as far surmount all
those,
As whips of Furies do the ladies* fans,
Made of the plumes o* th 3 estridge : this, like the sun,
Extracts the dew from my declining soul,
And swims mine eyes in moist effeminacy.
Oh I Bess, Bess, Bess, Bess.
Joff. Dead pity you have waken'd in my bosom,
And made me with you like compassionate.
Freely relate your sorrows.
Spenc. Sir, I shall.
If you have ever lov'd, or such a maid,
So fair., so constant, and so chaste as mine,
Ajad should Fortune, too lamentable Fortune,
Betray her to a black, abortive fate,
THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST. 121
How would it wring you ! Or if you had a heart,
Made of that metal that we white men have,
How would it melt in you I
Joff. Sir, you confound me.
Spenc. I will be brief. The travels of my Bass,
To find me out, you have partook at full,
In presence of the TTing ; these I omit.
Now, when we came to sum up all our joy,
And this night were ent'ring to our hoped bliss,
The King oh, most unworthy of that name !
He quite fell off from goodness.
Joff. 'WhoMulliskeff?
Spenc. His lust outweigh'd his honour; and as if his
soul
Were blacker than his face, he laid plots
To take this sweet night from me ; but prevented,
I have convey'd my beauteous bride aboard,
My Captain and Lieutenant.
Joff. Are they escap'd?
Spenc. Safe to my Negro. Thus far fortune led me
Through many dangers, "ffll I passed this bridge,
The last of aU your watches. And muse not,
Bashaw, that I thus single durst oppose myself:
I wore my mistress here, and she, not I,
Made me midway a conqueror.
Joff. She being at sea,
And safe, why should your own fates trouble you ?
Spenc. Renowned Moor, there is your greatest error.
When we parted, I swore, by the honour of a gentle-
man,
And as I ever was her constant friend,
If I surviv'd, to visit her aboard
By such an hour ; but if I fail, that she
Should think me dead : now, if I break one minute,
She leaps into the sea. 'Tis this, great Bashaw,
122 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
That from a soldier's eyes draws pearly tears :
For my own person I despise all fears.
Joff. You have deeply touched me ; and to let you
know
All moral virtues are not solely grounded
In th' hearts of Christians, go, and pass free;
Keep your appointed hour ; preserve her life.
I will conduct you past all danger; but withal,
Remember my head's left to answer it.
Spenc. Is honour fled from Christians unto Moors,
That I may say, in Barbary I found
This rare black swan?
Joff. And when you are at sea,
The wind, no question, may blow fair ; your anchors,
They are soon weigh'd, and you have sea-room free
To pass unto your country. *Tis but my life ;
And I shall think it nobly spent to save you,
Her, and your train, from many sad disasters.
Spenc. Sir, I thank you.
Appoint me a fix'd hour : if I return not,
May I be held a scorn to Christendom,
And recreant to my country.
Joff. By three to-morrow.
Spenc. Bind me by some oath.
Joff. Only your hand and word*
SpenG; "Which if I break,
What my -heart thinks, my tongue forbears to speak.
Joff. HI bear you past all watches. \JEseeuMA.
Explicit Actus secundus.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 123
ACTTJS TERTIUS, SCENA PRIHA-
Enter MTJLLISHEG and TOTA.
Mull. Through satiate with the pleasures of this night,
The morning calls me from the sweet embraces
Of the fair English damsel.
Tota. The English stranger
Is stolen from forth mine arms ; I am at full reveng'd.
Were I again to match, Pd marry one
Of this brave nation, if a gentleman.
Before the greatest monarch of the world,
They are such sweet and loving bedfellows.
Now to my chamber : darkness guide my way,
Lest what none yet suspect the night betray.
Let all like me wrong'd in their nuptial bed,
Not a.im at th' heart, but rather strike at th 5 head.
Mull. Venetian ladies, nor the Persian girls,
The French, the Spanish, nor the Turkish dames,
Ethiop, nor Greece, can kiss with half that art
These English can ; nor entertain their friends
With tenth part of that ample willingness
Within their arms.
Enter EasJiaw ARCADE.
Ale. Your highness called.
Mull. To tell thee that none shall partake but thou.
Oh ! I have had the sweetest night's content
That ever king enjoy'd.
Ale. With the fair English bride.
MulL Nor envy if I raise the Captain for't,
For he shall mount.
Ale. And he deserves it ; but to me you owe
Part of that honour : I had a hand in't, too,
Although, perhaps, you thought me ignorant
In what is past.
124 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Mull. Hadst thou no more
Than half a finger in this night's content.
It shall not be forgot ; but thou, as he.
Shall be raised one step higher.
Ale. Observing what had pass'd, I spied the bride-
groom,
As still mine eyes were fix'd on him, up and late ;
Then, by a trick, a pretty sleight, a fine fetch of mine
own,
I passM him forth the gates, and gave command
He should not have his entrance back again,
Neither for reward or entreaties, till day broke-*
Mutt. Your aim in that ?
Ale. For fear lest he by some suspicious jealousy
Should have disturbed your rest.
Mull. Thy providence
Shall not die unrewarded. Shift him hence^
And with his will, too, this makes thee
Of our CounciL
Ale. 'Tis an honour
My wisdom hath long aim'd at, and I hope
Now shall receive his merit.
Enter a Negro.
Negr. Pardon, great King, that I thus rudely press
Into your private bed-chamber.
Mutt. Speak; thy news?
Negr. The English Captain, with the lovely bride,
With her Lieutenant, hath secretly this night,
With your Highness 9 signet and the word,
PassM the court gates, paas'd all the watches, and
Got aboard their Negro,
And I was sent to know your Highness' pleasure.
Mutt. Hah! this night? Alcade^ seek, search;
I left her sleeping in our royal bed.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 3 25
Ale. I shall, my Lord. I half suspect. [Exit.
Mull. But was not Spencer with them?
Negr. Only they three :
And we, by virtue of your highness' signet,
Pass'd them the court gates without trouble.
He-enter BasJtaw ALCADE.
Mutt. We are amaz'd.
Alcade, whom find'st thou there?
Ale. Nothing, my Lord, but empty sheets,
A bed new toss'd, but neither English lady,
Nor any lady else.
MulL We stand astonish'd,
Not knowing what to answer.
Enter a second Messenger.
Mess. Pardon, great King, if I relate the news
That will offend you highly.
MulL That the English Captain, lady, and Lieu-
tenant, are escap'd?
Mess. But that's not alL
MulL Can there be worse behind?
Mess. Yes ; if the loss of your dear subjects' lives
Be worse than their escape. Spencer ', without
The signet or the word, being left behind.
MulL \ToAkade~\ You call'd the porter up,
And let him after.
Ale. Pardon, great King.
MulL Was this your trick, your sleight, your stra-
tagem?
As we are King of Fez, thy life shall pay
The forfeit : thine own tongue shall sentence thee.
But to the rest.
Mess. Then passed he to the bridge,
Where stood armed men, in number forty.
126 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Maugre all their strength, with his good sword
He would have made through all ;
And in this fierce conflict, six, to the maze
Of all the rest, were slain : nor would he yield,
Till suddenly we rais'd a loud alarm,
At which the captain of the watch came down,
And so there surpris'd him.
MulL Is he prisoner, then ?
Mess. In custody of the great Bashaw Joffer,
"With whom we left him.
Mull. Command our Bashaw
To bring him clogg'd in irons. These English pirates
Have robb'd us of much treasure ; and for that
His trait'rous life shall answer. But for thee, traitor,
Thou hadst a hand in his escape ;
Thou shalt be sure to pay for't.
Ale. Alas I my lord,
What I did was merely ignorance.
Mull. Nay, bribes ;
And I shall find it so. Bear him to guard.
[Exit ALCAT>E, guarded.
What dissolute strumpet did that trait'rous Captain
Send to our sheets ? But all our injuries
Upon that English prisoner we'll revenge :
As we in state and fortune hope to rise,
A never heard of death that traitor dies.
Enter Captain GOODLACK, BESS, EotraHMAK, CLEM.
Bess. No news from Forsety&t, that waits or Spencer.
The long boat's not returned ?
Goodl. Not yet.
Bess. Clem, to the main-top, Clem, and give us notice
If thou seest any like them make from the shore :
The day is broke already.
Clem. With all my heart, so you will give me warn-
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 127
ing before the gunner shoots, lest I tumble down again,
and put my neck a second time in danger.
Bess. Prithee, begone : let's have no jesting now.
Clem. Then I'll to the main-top in earnest.
Goodl. How fares it with you, Bess ?
Bess. Like a heartless creature, a body without mo-
tion.
How can I choose, when I am come to sea,
And left my heart ashore ? What ! no news yet ?
Goodl. None.
Bess. I prithee, RoughTnan, step into my cabin,
And bring me here my hour-glass.
Rough. That I shall.
Goodl. To what end would you use it ?
Bess. Shall I tell thee, Captain?
I would know how long I have to live :
That glass once turn'd, the sandy hour quite run,
I know my Speticer's dead, and my life's done.
Enter EOUGHMAN with the glass.
Rough. Your glass.
Bess. Gramei'cy, good Lieutenant.
J Tis better than a gaudy looking-glass,
To deck our faces in : that shows our pride,
But this our ends those glasses seek to hide.
Have you been all at prayers ?
Both. We have.
Bess. I thank you, gentlemen.
Never more need: and you would say as I do,
Did you but know how near our ends some are.
Dost thou not think, Captain, my Spencers slain ?
Goodl. Yet hope the best.
Bess. This is the hour he promis'd : Captain, look,
For I have not the heart, and truly tell me
How far 'tis spent.
128 THE FATS MAID OF THE WEST.
[GoodL] Some fifteen minutes.
Bess. -Alas I no more? I prithee, tak't away;
Even just so many have I left to pray,
And then to break my heart-strings. None that loves me
Speak one word to me of him, or any thing.
If in your secret cabins you'll bestow
Of hi and me some tears and hearty prayers,
We, if we live, shall thank you. Good gentlemen,
Engage me so far to you.
Enter CLEM.
Clem. News, news, news !
Bess. Good or bad?
Clem. Excellent, most excellent; nay, super-excel-
lent. Forset and all his companions are rowing hither
like madmen ; and there is one that sits i* th' stern, and
does not row at all ; and that is, let me see who is it ?
I am sure 'tis he, noble Spencer.
Bess. Spencer!
Heart, let me keep thee : thou wast up to heaven
Halfway in rapture.-7-Art thou sure?
Clem. I think you'll make a man swear his heart out.
Bess. Teach me but how
I shall receive him when he comes aboard.
How shall I bear me, Captain, that my joy
Do not transcend my soul out of this earth,
Into the air, with passionate ecstasy ?
Enter SPENCER.
Goodl* Now, farewell Barbary.
We have sea-room and wind at will : not ten
Of thy best gallies, ann'd with Moors,
Can fetch us back.
Rough. For England, gentlemen I
Bess. Oh I where's the gunner ?
THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
See all the ordnance be straight discharg'd,
For joy my Spencer lives : let's mist ourselves
In a thick cloud of smoke, and speak our joys
Unto the highest heavens in fire and thunder.
Rough. To make the Queen vex and torment herself.
Bess. To make the King tear his contorted locks,
Curl'd like the knots of furies. Oh ! this music
Doth please me better than th' effeminate things
Tun'd to their wild moriscos : dance, my soul,
And caper in my bosom, joyful heart,
That I have here my Spencer.
Cfoodl. Come, weigh anchor,
Hoist sail : we have a fair and gentle gale
To bear us to our country.
Spenc. Captain, stay.
Bess. I did not hear my Spencer speak till now ;
Nor would my sudden joy give me that judgment,
To spy that sadness in thee I now see.
Good, what's the cause ? canst thou conceal't from me ?
What ! from thy Bess ? Whence came that sigh ?
You will not tell me. No ; do not:
I am not worthy to partake your thoughts.
Do you repent you that you see us safe
EmbarkM for England, to enjoy me there?
Is there some other that you better love ?
Let me but know her, and for your sweet sake
HI serve her, too. Come, I will know the cause.
Sp&nc. Know all in one :
Now I have seen you, I must leave you, Bess.
Bess. Leave me? Oh, fatal! [Swoons.
Spenc. Speak, my Bess ; it is thy Spencer tells thee.
Bess. That he will leave me. If the same tongue
That wounded me gives me no present cure,
It will again entrance me.
Spenc. Arm yourself :
130 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
It must be spoke again, for I must leave you.
My honour, faith, and country, are engaged,
The reputation of a Christian's pawn'd ;
And all that wear that sacred livery
Shall in my breach be scandaPd. Moors will say
We boast of faith, none does good works but they.
Bess. I ain nor sleep nor waking, but my senses
All in a confusM slumber.
GoodL Sii% resolve us :
You wrap us in a labyrinth of doubts,
Prom which, I pray, unloose us.
Spenc. I shalL
I made my way through slaughter ; but at length
The watch came down, and took me prisoner
Unto a noble Bashaw : for my valour,
It pleas'd him to admire me; but, when sorrow
To disappoint my Seas struck me in passion,
He urg'd me freely to relate nay griefs,
Which took in him such deep impression,
That, on my word and promise to return
By such an hour, he left himsejf in hostage,
To give me my desires.
GoodL 'Twas nobly done ;
But what's the lives of twenty thousand Moors,
To one that is a Christian ?
Jtougk. We have liberty and free way to our country :
Shall not we take th' advantage that the heavens
Have lent us ; but now, as if we scorn'd
Their gracious bounty, give up ourselves
To voluntary bondage?
Bess. Prize you my love no better, than to rate it
Beneath the friendship of a barbarous Moor ?
Can you, to save him, leave me to my death ?
Is this the just reward of all my travails?
Spenc. I prize my honour, and a Christian's faith,
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 131
Above what earth can yield. Shall Fez report,
Unto our country's shame, and to the scandal
Of our religion, that a barbarous Moor
Can exceed us in nobleness ? No ; I'll die
A hundred thousand deaths first.
Bess. Oh, my fate ! Was ever maid thus cross'd,
That have so oft been brought to see my bliss,
And never taste it ?
To meet my Spencer living, after death,
To join with him in marriage, not enjoy him ?
To have him here, free from the barbarous Moors,
And now to lose him ? Being so oft rais'd
Unto the height of all felicicity,
To make my ruin greater. If you needs
"Will hazard your own person, make me partner
In this thy present danger : take me with thee.
Spenc. Not for the world : no living soul shall bleed
One drop for me.
Bess. Canst thou be so unkind? Then, false man,
know
That thou hast taught me harshness. I without
Thee came to Mamorah, and to my country back
I will return without thee. I am here,
In mine own vessel, mine own train about me ;
And since thou wilt forsake me, to embrace
The Queen of Moors, though coining strange excuse,
E'en at thy pleasure be it ; my way's into my country.
Farewell ; I'll not shed one tear more.
Spenc. My parting's death ;
But honour wakens me. The hour draws nigh;
And if I fail one minute, he must die.
The long boat now! Farewell, Bess* \Exit.
Bess. Why, farewell :
Spencer, I always lov'd thee but too welL
K2
132 THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Captain, thine ear.
This I have vow'd* and this you all shall swear.
\JSsceunt.
Ent&r MuiriiiSH&G* Queen^ JOFFEB, Headwnan.
Mull. Produce your prisoner, Bashaw.
Joff. Mighty King,
Had you beheld his prowess, and, withal,
But seen his passions, you would then, like me,
Have pitied his disasters.
MuU- We know no pity for an injury
Of that high nature, more than our revenge.
We have vowM his death, and he shall therefore die.
Go, bring hrm forth.
Joff. Spare me, my lord, but some few hours, I shall.
Mull. The least delay is death.
Joff. Then know, my lord, he was my prisoner.
Mull. How! was, and is not?
Joff. By promise
MulL Not ia gyves?
Joff. He's gyved to me by faith, but else at liberty.
Mull. I pray unriddle us, and teach us that
Which we desire to know: where is the English
prisoner?
Joff. I presum'd, my lord,
Such noble valour could not be lodg'd alone,
Without some other virtues, faith and honour:
Therefore I gave him freedom to his ship,
Only upon his promise to return.
Now, if there be such nobleness in a Christian,
Which, being a Moor, I have expressed to him,
He will not see me perish.
Mull. Foolish Bashaw,
To jest away thy head. You are all conspirators
Against otir person, and you all shall die.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 133
Why, canst thou think a stranger, so remote
Both in country and religion, being embark'd
At sea, and under sail, free from our bands,
In the arms of his fair bride,
His Captain and his sailors all aboard^
Sea room and wind at will, and will return,
To expose all these to voluntary dangers,
For a bare verbal promise ?
Joff. If he comes not,
Be this mine honour, Bang ; that though I bleed,
A Moor a Christian thus far did exceed;
Hull. The hour is past ;
The Christian hath broke faith.
Off with his head !
Enter SPENCEB.
Spenc. Yet come at last.
Mull. Is't possible ? can England, so far distant,
Harbour such noble virtues ?
Joff- I beshrew you, sir,
You come unto your death, and you have ta'en
Much honour from me, and engross'd it all
To your own fame. 'Twould have liv'd longer by me
Than any monument can last, to have lost
My life for such a noble stranger,
Whose virtue even in this last act appears.
I wish this blood, which now are friendly tears.
You are come unto your death.
Spenc. Why, 'twas my purpose ;
And by that death to make my honour shine.
Great Mullisheg, cherish this noble Moor,
Whom all thy confines cannot parallel
For virtue and true nobleness. Ere my ship
Should with such black dishonour bear me safe
Into my country by thy Bashaw's death,
134 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
I would have bent my ordnance 'gainst her keel,
And sunk her in the harbour.
Mull. Thou hast slain
Six of our subjects.
Joff. Oh I had you seen
But with what eminent valour
Mutt. Naught that's ill
Can be well done : then. Bashaw, speak no more.
His life is merely forfeit, and he shall pay it.
Spenc. I am proud, Fez, that I now owe thee nothing,
But have in me ability to pay.
If it be forfeit, take it: lay all on me;
I'll pay the debt, then set the Bashaw free.
Mull. Besides misprizing all our gracious favours,
To violate our laws, infringe our peace,
Disturb our watch by night; and now, perhaps
Having robb'd us of much treasure, stol'n to sea.
Slpenc. In that thou art not royal, Mullislieg.
Of all thy gold and jewels lately given us,
There's not a doit embark'd ;
For, "fiTHJi-ng thee dishonourably unkind,
Scorning thy gold, we left all behind.
Tota. If private men be lords of such brave spirits,
How royal should their princes be.
Mull Englishman,
There's but one way for thee to save thy life
From imminent death.
Spenc. "Well, propose it.
Mull. Instantly
Send to thy Negro 9 and surrender up
Thy Captain and thy fair bride : otherwise,
By all the holy rites of our great Prophet,
Thou shalt not live an hour.
Speno. Alas! good King,
I pity and despise thy tyranny :
THE FAIB MAID OF THE ^YEST. 135
Not live an hour? And when my head is off,
What canst thou do then? CalFst thou that revenge,
To ease me of a thousand turbulent griefs,
And throw my soul in glory for my honour?
Why, thou striVst to make me happy : but for her,
Wert thou the king of all the kings on earth ;
Could thou lay all their sceptres, robes, and crowns,
Here at my feet, and hadst power to instal me
Emperor of the universal empery,
Rather than yield my basest ship boy up,
To become thy slave, much less betray my bride
To thee and to thy brutish lust, know, King
Of Fez, I'd die a hundred thousand deaths first.
Mull. Til try your patience. Off with his head !
Enter BESS, GOODLACK, and BOTJGHMAN.
Bess. Here's more work. Stay !
Spenc. What make you here?
You wrong me above injury.
Bess. If you love blood,
That river spare, and for him take a flood ;
Be but so gracious as save him alone :
And, great King, see, I bring thee three for one.
Spare him, thou. shalt have more,
The lives of all my train. What say 'st thou to't ?
And with their lives, my ship and all, to boot
Spenc. I could be angry with you above measure.
In your four deaths I die, that had before
Tasted but one.
Mutt. Captain, art thou there ? Howe'er these
fare,
Thou shalt be sure to pay for't.
Goodl. 'Tis my least care.
What's done is mine, I here confess't ;
Thou seize my life, in ransom of the rest.
336 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Tota. Lieutenant, you are a base villain.
What groom betray'd you to our sheets ?
Rough. Please keep your tongue ; I did you no dis-
honour.
Tota. Whom did you bring to our free embraces ?
Rough. 'Twas the Bang : conceal what's past.
Tota. Howe'er my mind, then yet my body's chaste.
Rough. Make use on't.
tfpenc. Dismiss, great King, these to their ship again ;
My life is solely forfeit : take but that,
I shall report thee merciful.
Bess. It were no justice, Bong, to forfeit his,
And to spare mine : I am as deep as he ;
Since what my Spencer did was all for me.
Goodl. Great Bang, if any faulted, then 'twas I :
I led them on, and therefore first should die.
Rough. I am as deep as any.
Jeff. Oh! had my head
Excused all these, I had been nobly dead.
Bess. Why pause you, Bang? le't by our noble
virtues,
That you have lost the use of speech ? Or can you think
That, Spencer dead, you might inherit me?
No ; first, with Roman Portia, I'd eat fire,
Or, with Lucretia, character thy lust
'Twixt these two breasts. Stood I engag'd to death,
I'd scorn for life to bend a servile knee;
But 'tis for thee, my Spencer. [Kneels.'] What was
his fault?
'Twas but to save his own, rescue his dear bride
From adulterate sheets ; and must he die for this ?
Mull. Shall lust in me have chief predominance,
And virtuous deeds, for which in Fez
I have been long renown'd, be quite exil'd ?
Shall Christians have the honour
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 137
To be sole heirs of goodness, and we Moors
Barbarous and bloody ? Captain, resolve me.
What common courtezan didst thou convey
Into our royal bed ?
Tota. I can excuse him. Pardon me, great King :
I, having private notice of your plots,
Wrought him unto my purpose ; and 'twas I
Lodg'd in your arms that night.
Mull. These English are in all things honourable,
Nor can we tax their ways in any thing,
Unless we blame their virtues. English maid,
We give thee once more back unto thy husband,
Whom likewise freely we receive to grace :
And, as amends for our pretended wrongs,
With her we'll tender such an ample dower,
As shall renown our bounty. But we fear
We cannot recompence the injurious loss
Of your last night's expectations.
Bess. 'Tie full amends,
Where but the least part of your grace extends.
MuU. Captain, we prize thy virtues to thy friends,
Thy faith to us, and zeal unto our Queen.
And, Bashaw, for thy nobleness to a gentleman,
Of such approved valour and renown,
We here create thee Viceroy of Argiers,
And do esteem thee next our Queen in grace.
Y'have quench'd in me all lust, by which shall grow
Virtues which Fez and all the world shall know.
Spenc. We shall report your bounties, and your
royalties
Shall fly through all the parts of Christendom.
Bess. Whilst Bess has gold, which is the meed of
bays,
She'll make our English poets tune thy praise.
And now, my Spencer, after all pur troubles,
138 THE FAIR MAIZ> OF THE WEST.
Crosses, and threat'nings of the sea's rough, brow,
I ne'er could say thou wert mine own till now.
Mull. Call this your harbour, and your haven of joy ;
For so we'll strive to make it, noble strangers :
Those virtues you have taught us by your deeds,
We futurely will strive to imitate.
And for the wrongs done to the hop'd delights
Of your last night's divorce, double the magazine
With which our largess should have swell'd your ship.
A golden Girl th'art call'd; and, wench, be bold,
Thy lading back shall be with pearl and gold.
\Escewit.
Enter CHOBUS.
Chor. Imagine Bess and Spencer under sail :
But the intelligence of their great wealth
Being bruited 'mongst the merchants, comes to th' ears
Of a French pirate, who, with two ships well rigg'd,
Waylays them in their voyage. Long they fought,
And many slain on both sides ; but the Frenchmen;
Proud of their hopeful conquest, boarding twice,
Are twice blown up; which adds courage to the English,
But to the Frenchmen fear. Just as they buckled,
Spencer and Goodlock s with two proof targets arm'd,
Into the French ship leap, and on the hatches
There make a bloody slaughter: but at that instant,
The billows swell'd, the winds grew high and loud,
And as the soul and body use to part,
With no less force these lovers are divided.
He wafts to her, and she makes signs to him :
He calls, and she replies: they both grow hoarse
With shrieking out their last farewelL Now she swoons,
And ainkfl into the arms of Roughman. Spmoer
Upon a chest gets hold, and safe arrives
I' th 9 Marquis of Femora's country. The like adventure
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 139
Chanc'd Goodlack : upon a mast he pierces Italy,
Where these two Dukes were then at odds. Spencer is
chosen
Ferrara's champion ; Mantua makes Goodlaclc his.
What happened them, if you desire to know,
To cut off words, well act it in dumb show.
\JDumb show.
The Dukes by them aton'd, they grac'd and preferr'd
Take their next way towards Florence. What of Bess>
Roughman, and Cl&ni becomes, must next succeed.
The seas to them like cruel proves, and wrecks
Their Negro on the coast of Florence, where
They wander up and down 'mongst the banditties.
More of their fortunes we will next pursue,
In which we mean to be as brief as true. [Exit.
Explicit Actus
140 THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
ACTUS QT7AJRTTJS, SCE^A PRIMA.
Enter BESS, KouaHMAN, and CJLEM.
Bess. All is lost I
Bough. Save these ourselves.
Clem. For my part, I have not so much left as a clean
shirt.
Bess. And Spencer^ too : had the seas left me him,
I should have thought them kind; but in his fate
All wishes, fortunes, hopes of better days,
Expire.
Rough. Spencer may live.
Clem. Ay, that he may, if it be but in a sea-water
green suit, as I was, among the haddocks.
Bess. How many bitter plunges have I pass'd,
Ere I could win my Spencer ! who no sooner
Married, but quite divorced ; possest for some few days,
Then rent asunder ; as soon a widow as I was a bride :
This day the mistress of many thousands,
And a beggar now, not worth the clothes I wear.
Rough. At the lowest gbb
The tides still flow; besides, being on the ground,
Lower we cannot falL
Bess. Yes ; into the ground, the grave.
RougJiman, would I were there ; till then I never
Shall have true rest. I fain would know
What greater misery Heaven can inflict,
I have not yet endur'd:
If there be such* I dare it; let it come.
Enter Captain [of] Banditties, and others.
Batid. Seize, and surprise the prisoners! thou art mine.
Villain, hands off! Know'at thou whom thou
offendest ?
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 14-1
Sand. Bind her fast, and after captive him.
Rough. I will rather die,
Than suffer her sustain least injury.
[ROUGHMAN is beaten off. EtxAt CLEM.
Bess. What's thy purpose ?
Band. In all my travels and my quest of blood,
I ne'er encountered such a beauteous prize.
Heavens ! if I thought you would accept his thanks,
That trades in deeds of hell, I would acknowledge
Myself in debt to you.
Bess. What's thy intent,
Bold villain, that thou mak'st this preparation ?
Band. I intend to ravish thee.
Bess. All goodness pardon me; and you, blest
heavens,
Whom I too boldly challeng'd for a misery
Beyond my Spencers loss. What I rape intended?
I had not thought there had been such a mischief
Devis'd for wretched woman. Ravish me !
'Tis beyond shipwreck, poverty, or death :
It is a word invented first in hell,
And by the devils first spew'd upon earth :
Man could not have invented to have given
Such letters sound.
Band. I trifle hours too long ;
And now to my black purpose. Envious day,
Gaze with thy open eyes on this night's work,
For thus the prologue to my lust begins.
Bess. Help! murder! rape! murder!
Band. Ill stop your mouth from bawling.
Enter Duke of Florence and a train, and Merchant.
Flor. This way the cry came. Rescue for the lady !
Hold thy desperate fury, and arm thyself
For my encounter.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Band. Hell! prevented? {Exit with followers.
Flor. Unbind that beauteous lady, and pursue
The ruffian : he that can bring his head, shall have
A thousand crowns propos'd for his reward.
He should be captain of those bloody thieves
That haunt our mountains, and of our dear subjects
Hath oft made outrage. Gro, see this proclaimed.
Bess. Ere I the happy wishes of my soul,
My orisons to Heaven, or make free tender
Of a most bounden duty, grace my jnisery,
To let me know, unto what worthy person,
Of what degree or state, I owe the service
Of a most wretched life, lest in my ignorance
I prove a heretic to all good manners,
And harshly so offend. [Kneels.
Flor. Fairest of thy sex, I need not question thine,
Because I read a nobleness in thy forehead ;
But, to resolve thee, know, I am styl'd the Duke
Of Florence, and of this country Prince*
Bess. Then, from my knees I fall flat on my face,
In bound obeisance.
Flor. Else:
That earth's too base for such pure lips to kiss.
They should rather join with a prince's, as at first
Made for such use : nay, we will have it so.
Mer. That lady, if my memory be faithful
Unto my judgment, I should have seen ere now,
But where, what place, or in what country, now
I cannot call to mind.
Flor. Where were you bred?
Bess. In England, royal sir,
M&r. In England?
Flor. By what strange adventure, then,
Happened you on these coasts ?
Bess. By shipwreck.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Flor. Then, churlish were the waves t' expose you to
Such danger. Whence disembarked you last?
Bess. From Barbary.
Flor. From Barbary ? Our merchant, you came
lately thence.
Mer. 'Tis she : I now remember her.
She did me a great courtesy, and I am proud,
Fortune, however enemy to her,
Has given me opportunity to make
A just requital
Flor. What occasion,
Fair lady, being of such state and beauty,
Drew you from your own country* to expose you
To so long travel ?
Mer. Mighty sovereign,
Pardon my interruption, if I make-bold
To put your grace in mind of an English virgin,
So highly grac'd by mighty MuUisheg.
Flor. A legend worthy to be writ in gold,
Whose strangeness seem'd at first to exceed belief:
And had not thy approved honesty
Commanded our attention, we should have doubted
That thou therein hadst much hyperbolizVL
Mer. What would your grace give
To see that miracle of constancy,
She who relieved so many Christian captives;
Redeem'd so many of the merchants 9 goods ;
BeggM of the Bong so many forfeitures ;
Kept from the galleys some, and some from slaughter ;
She whom the King of Fez never denied,
But she denied him love ; whose chastity
Conquer'd his lust, and, maugre his incontinence,
Made him admire her virtues ? *
Flor. The report
Strikes us with wonder and amazement too ;
144 THE PAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
But to behold the creature, were a project
Worthy a theatre of Emperors,
Nay, gods themselves, to be spectators.
Mer> Behold that wonder. Lady, know you me?
Bess. Not I^ I can assure you, sir.
Mer. Tllgive
You instance, then. I was that Florentine,
Who, being in Fez;, for a strange outrage there,
Six of my men were to the galleys doom'd ;
But, at your intercession to the King,
Freely released: for which, in this dejection,
I pray accept these thousand crowns, to raise
Your ruin'd fortunes.
Bess. You are grateful, sir, beyond my merit.
Flor. I cannot blame great Fez,
To become enamour'd on so fair a creature.
You had a friend much graced by that same Moor,
Whom, as our merchant told us, you were cspousVl
to
In the Court of Fez : where's he ?
Bess. I cannot speak it without tears*
Flor. Why, is he dead?
Bess. I cannot say he lives.
Flor. How were you severed?
Bess. It asks a sad relation.
Flor. Well find a fitter time to hear't. But now,
Augment your griefs no farther. On what coast,
Pray, were you shipwreck'd?
Bess. Upon these neighbouring shores, where all the
wealth
I had from Barbary is perish'd in the sea-
I, that this morn commanded half a million,
Have nothing now but this good merchant's bounty.
Flor. You are richer
In our high favour, than all the royalty
THE PAIB MAID OP THE WEST. 145
Fez could have crown'd your peerless beauty with :
He gave you gold, but we your almost forfeit chastity.
Bess. A gift above the wealth of Barbary.
Flor. Conduct this lady to the city straight,
And bear this our signet to our treasurer:
Command for her ten thousand crowns immediately.
Next to our wardrobe, and what choice of habit
Best likes her, 'tis her own.
Only, for all this grace, deign, beauteous lady,
That I may call you servant.
Bess. Pardon me, sir;
You are a Prince, and I am here your vassal.
Flor. Merchant,
As you respect our favour, see this done.
Bess. What must my next fall be ? I that this morning
Was rich in wealth and servants, and ere noon
Commanded neither ; and next doom'd to death ;
Not death alone, but death with infamy.
But what's all this unto my Spencers loss ?
Flor. You to the city ; we'll pursue the chase.
Madam, be comforted ; well send, or see you :
All your fortunes are not extinct in shipwreck;
The land affords you better, if you'll be sway'd by us.
As first you find us, we'll be still the same.
Oft have I chas'd, ne'er found so fair a game.
[Exeunt.
Enter CLEM, solus.
Clem. Where are my bashaws now? Let me see;
what shall I do ? I have left my mistress ; where shall
I have my wages? She's peppered by this : but if the
Captain of the banditties had had but that grace and
honour that I had when I was in Barbary, he would
not have been so lusty. She 'scaped drowning, which
is the way of all fish, and by this is gone the way of all
L
THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
flesh. My Lieutenant, he's sure cut to pieces among
the banditties; and so had I been, had not my baker's
legs stept a little aside. My noble Captain and Spencer ,
they are either drowned i' th 5 tempest, or murdered by
the pirates ; and none is left alive but I, Cfan 9 poor
Clem ! but, poor Clem, how wilt thou do now ? "What
trick have you to satisfy colon, here in a strange
country ? It is not now with me as when Andrea lived.
Now I bethink me, I have a trade ; and that, they say,
will stick by a man when his friends fail him. The city
is hard by, and 111 see and I can be entertained to my
old trade of drawing wine : if 't be but an under-skinker,
I care not: better do so, than, like a prodigal, feed upon
husks and acorns.
Well, if I chance to lead my life under pome happy
sign,
To my countrymen still I'll fill the best wine.
Enter KOTJGHMAN, Heeding.
Rough. Wounded, but 'scap'd wiiih life : but Bess's
loss; that's it that grieves me inward. Eavished, perhaps,
and murdered. Oh, if Spencer and Goodlack survive,
how would they blame my cowardice ! A thread spun
may be untwined, but things in nature done, undone
can never be. She's lost, they are perished: they arc
happy in their deaths, and I surviving, left to the earth
most miserable. No means to raise myself? I met a
Pursuivant, even now, proclaiming to the man who
could bring the head of the banditries' Captain, for his
reward a thousand crowns: if not for gain of gold, yet
for he injured Bess, that shall be my next task. What,
though I die,
Be this my comfort, that it chanc'd me well,
To perish by his hand by whom she fell. \J3mt*
THE FAIE MAID OF THE WEST. 147
Enter Duke of FLOBENCE, Merchant.
Flor. Our merchant, have you done to th' English
lady
As we commanded? Did she take the gold?
Her. After many compliments, circumstances,
Modest refusals, sometimes with repulse,
I forc'd on her your bounty. Had you seen
What a bewitching art she strivM to use,
Betwixt denial and disdain, contempt and thankfulness,
You would have said, -that out of a mere scorn
T'accept your gift, she expressed such gratitude,
As would demand a double donative.
Flor. And it has don' t ; it shall be doubl'd straight,
Arising thence unto an infinite,
If she'll but grant us love. How for her habit ?
Mer. With an enforced will, wilful constraint,
And a mere kind of glad necessity,
She put it on, but to lament the death
Of her lost husband.
Flor. Why, is he lost?
Mer. By all conjectures, never to be found.
Flor. The less her hope is to recover him,
The more our hope remains to conquer her.
Bear her from us this jewel, and withal,
Provide a banquet. Bid her leave all mourning ;
This night in person we will visit her.
Mer. I shall.
Flor. Witha], more gold.
And if thou canst, by way of conference,
Get from her how she stands affected towards us :
It shall not be the farthest way about
To thy preferment and our special favour.
[Exit Merchant.
L2
148 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The two bold Dukes of Mantua and Ferrara,
after many bloody garboils, have entered league, and
within these two days mean to visit Florence, to make
your Court a witness of their late concluded amity.
Flor. We'll receive them
A s Princes that in this would honour us.
Mess. These letters will speak farther.
Flor. Bear them straight
Unto our secretary, and withal, give order
That all our Court may shine in gold and pearl.
They never could have come in a happier season,
Than when the great and high magnificence,
Without suspect we would have shown to her,
"Will be accounted honour done to them.
In fate's despite,
We will not lose the honour of this night. \JEacit.
Ettfer SPENCER, GOCXDLACK.
Spmc. Ferrara was exceeding bountiful.
Goodl. So was the Duke of Mantua. Had we stayed
Within their confines, we might, even till death,
Have livM in their high favour.
Spenc. Oh ! but Captain,
What would their dukedoms gain me, without Bess ?
Or all the world, t' enjoy it without her ?
Each passage of content, or pleasing fortune,
When I record she has no part in it,
Seems rather as an augmentation
Of a more great disease.
Goodl. This be your comfort, that by this
She's best part of her way for England, whither
She is richly bound; then, where she is most hopeless
Of this your safety,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
"With your survival to receive us gladly,
With an abundant treasure.
Spenc. But for that,
I had sunk, ere this, beneath the weight of war,
And chose an obscure death, before the glory
Of a renowned soldier. But we are now
As far as Florence onward of our way :
Were it best that we made tender of our service
To the Grand Duke?
Goodl. 'Tis the greatest benefits of all our travels to
see foreign Courts, and to discourse their fashions : let
us by no means neglect that duty.
Spenc. Where were we best to lodge?
Goodl. Hard by is a tavern : let's first drink there,
and after make inquiry who's the best host for strangers.
Spenc. Come, ho I where be these drawers ?
Enter a Drawer.
Draw. Gentlemen, I draw none myself, but I'll send
some.
Enter CLEM, with tcine.
Clem. Welcome, gentlemen. Score a quart ! .
Spenc. Ha!
Goodl. How!
Clem. No, no ; I am an ass, a very animal ; it can-
not be.
Spenc. Why dost thou bear the wine back? The
slave thinks, belike, we have no money.
Goodl. What I dost thou think us to be such cashier'd
soldiers, that we have no cash? Tush ! it cannot be he.
Spenc. How should he come here? Set down the
wine.
Clem. I will* I will, sir. Score a quart of Tricks,
mere phantasms. Shall I draw wine to shadows ? So
150 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
I might run o' th* score, and find no substance to pay
for it.
Spenc. Left we not him a-shipboard, on his voyage
towards England, with my
GoodL With Bess; true. Sirrah, set down the
wine.
Clem, Some Italian mountebanks: upon iny life,
mere juggling.
GoodL Upon my life 'tis Clem.
Clem. Ca Ca Cap Captain I Master Spencer !
Spenc. Clem?
Clem. I am Clem.
Spenc. And I am Spencer.
GoodL And I Goodlack, but cannot think thee Clem.
Clem. Yes, I am Clem, of Foy, the Bashaw of Barbary,
who, from a courtier of Fez, am turned a drawer in
Florence. But let me clear my eyes better: now I
know you to be the same whose throats the pirates
would have cut, and have spoiled your drinldngs.
Spenc. Oh ! tell us, and be brief in thy relation,
What happened you after the sudden tempest
Sever'd our ships, or what's become ofJBess?
GoodL Where did our Negro touch?
Clem. I'll give you a touch, take it as you will. The
Negro, and all that was in her, was wrecked on the coast
of Florence; she, and all the wealth that was in her, all
drowned i' th' bottom of the sea.
Spenc. No matter for the riches; where's she, worth
more than ship or goods ?
GoodL Where's Eoughman? For thou, we sec, art
safe.
Spenc. Nay, speak; where's J?<?*$?
How my heart quails within me.
Clem. She, Roughman, and I, were all cast ashore safe,
like so many drowned rats ; where we were no sooner
THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST. 151
landed* but were set upon by the banditties, where she
was bound to a tree, and ready to be ravished by the
Captain of the outlaws.
Spenc. Oh ! worse than shipwreck could be.
Clem. I see RougJwnan half cut in pieces with rescuing
her ; but whether the other half be alive, or no, I can-
not tell. For my own part, I made shift for one, my
heels doing me better service than my hands; and
coming to the city, having no other means to live by,
got me to my old trade to draw wine, where I have the
best wine in Florence for you, gentlemen.
Spenc. Ravished?
Goodl. And RougJiman slam?
Spenc. Oh I hard news : it frets all my blood,
And strikes me stiff with horror and amazement.
Goodl. It strikes me
Into a marble statue, for with such
I have like sense and feeling.
Spenc. Tell me, Captain :
Wilt thou give me leave at length to despair,
And Inll myself? I will disclaim all farther
Friendship with thee, if thou persuad'st me live.
Ravished !
Goodl. Perhaps attempted, but prevented.
Will you, before you know the utmost certainty,
Destroy yourself?
Speno. What is this world ? What's man ? Are we
created
Out of flint, or iron, that we are made to bear this ?
Goodl. Comfort, sir.
Clem. Your only way is to drink wine, if you be in
grief; for that's the only way, the old proverb says, to
comfort the heart.
GoodL Hark where we lie ; and I prithee, Clem, let's
hear from thee; but now leave us.
152 THE FAIR 1VIATD OF THE WEST.
Clem. I will make bold inquire you out ; and if you
want money, (as many travellers may) as long as I
have either credit, wages, or any coin i' th* world, you
shall not want, as I am a true eunuch. \Eocit CLEM.
Enter FLOBENCE, ushering BESS ; train.
GoodL Let's stand aside, and suffer these gallants
pass, that with their state take a whole street before
them.
Flor. Our coach stay ; we'll back some half hour hence ;
Only conduct this lady to her lodging.
Hah! started you, sweet? Whence fetched
You that sigh ? Our train lead on :
W have other business now to think upon. \_Exeunt.
[BESS casts a jewel.
GoodL Sure this was some great lady.
jSjpenc. But observ'd you not this jewel that she cast
me?
*Tis a rich one.
GoodL Believe me, worthy your wearing.
Spenc. What might she be to whom I am thus bound ?
I'm here a stranger : never till this day
Beheld I Florence, nor acquaintance, friend ;
Especially of ladies.
GoodL By their train,
The man that did support her by the arm
Was of some special note ; and she a lady
Nobly descended. Why should she throw you this,
Being a mere stranger ?
ISpmc. There's some mystery in't,
If we could find the depth on't; sure there is.
GoodL Perhaps some newly fallen in love with you
Now at first sight, and hurl'd that as a favour.
Spenc. Yet neither of us
Had the wit or sense to inquire her name.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST* 153
I'll wear it openly, and see if any
Will challenge it the way to know her best.
GoodL And I would so.
Spenc. I'll truce awhile with sorrow for my ess 9
Till I find th' event.
GoodL And at best leisure
Tender our service to the Duke,
Whom fame reports to be a bounteous Prince,
And liberal to all strangers.
Spenc. 'Tis decreed.
But howsoe'er his favours he impart,
My Bess's loss will still sit near my heart. \Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter FLORENCE, MANTUA, FERRARA.
Flor. This honour you have done me, worthy
Princes,
In leaving of your Courts to visit me,
We reckon as a trophy of your loves,
And shall remain a future monument
Of a more firm and perfect amity.
Mant. To you, as the greatest, most honoured,
And most esteemed Prince of Italy,
After a tedious opposition
And much effuse of blood, this Prince and I,
Late reconciled, make a most happy tender
Of our united league.
Ferar. Selecting you
A royal witness of this union ;
Which to express, we come to feast with you,
To sport and revel, and in fall largess
To spend our royal bounty through your Court.
Flor. What neither letters nor ambassadors,
Soliciting by factions or by friends,
Heaven's hand hath done by your more calmer temper.
Mant. All resistals,
1 54 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
Quarrels, and ripping up of injuries,
Are smother'd in the ashes of our wrath,
Whose fire is now extinct.
Ferar. Which whoso kindles,
Let "him be held a new Herostratus ;
Who was so hated throughout HJpIiesus,
They held it death to name him.
Flor. Nobly spoke.
And now, confederate Princes, you shall find,
By our rich entertainment, how w* esteem
Your friendship. Speak ; have we no ladies here
To entertain these Princes ?
Enter BBSS.
Mant. Methinks I spy one beauty in this place,
Worth all the sights that I have seen before.
I think, survey the spacious world abroad,
You scarce can find her equal.
Ferar. Had not wonder
And deep amazement curbed my speech in,
I had forestalled this Prince in approbation
Of her compareless beauty.
Flor. Taste her, Princes.
This surfeits me, and adds unto my love,
That they should thus admire her.
Mant. Beauteous lady,
It is not my least honour to be first
In this most wish'd solicit.
Bess. I stand a statue,
And cannot move but by another's will,
And as I am commanded.
Ferar. I should have wrestled for priority,
But that I hold it as a blessing,
To take off that kiss which he so late laid on.
Flor. Now tell me, Princes,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 155
How do you like my judgment in the choice
Of a fair mistress ?
Mant. You shall choose for me.
Ferar. More happy in this beauty, I account you,
Than in your richest treasure.
Flor. Wer't not clouded o'er
With such a melancholy sadness, I'd
Not change it, for the wealth of Italy.
Sweet, cheer this brow, whereon no frown can sit,
But it will ill become you.
Bess. Sir, I bleed.
Flor. Hah! bleed?
I would not have a sad and ominous fate
Hang o'er thee, for a million.
Perhaps 'tis custom with you.
Bess. I have observed,
Even from my childhood, never fell from hence
One crimson drop, but either my greatest enemy
Or my dearest friend was near.
Flor. Why, we are here,
Fix'd to thy side, thy dearest friend on earth.
If that be all, fear nothing.
Bess. Pardon, sir;
Both modesty and manners plead for me,
And I must needs retire.
Ffor. Our train attend her :
Let her have all observance. By my royalty,
I would not have her taste the least disaster
For more than can we promise. \Exit BESS.
Ferar. You have only showed us a rich jewel, sir,
And put it in a casket.
Mant. Of what country,
Fortune, or birth, doth she proclaim herself?
For by her garb and language we may guess
She was not bred in Florence.
156 THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST.
Flor. Seat you, Princes ; Til tell you a strange pro-
ject.
Enter SPENCER and G-OODLACK.
Sjpenc I have walked the streets, but find not any
that will make challenge of this jewel. Captain, now
well try the Court.
GoodL Beware of these Italians :
They are by nature jealous and revengeful,
Not sparing the most basest opportunity
That may procure your .danger*
Spenc. Innocence
Is bold, and cannot fear. But see, the Duke ;
Well tender him the solemn'stfbeverence
Of travellers and strangers. Peace, prosperity,
And all good fates, attend your royalty.
Goodl. Behold, w'are two poor English gentlemen,
Whom travel hath enforced through your dukedom,
As next way to our country, prostrate you
Our lives and service: 'tis not for reward
Or hope of gain we make this tender to you,
But our free loves.
Flor. That which so freely comes,
How can we scorn ? What are you, gentlemen ?
Man&. ITl speak for this.
Ferar. And I for him.
Well met, renowned [Englishman,
Here in the Court of Florence* This was he,
Great Duke, whom fame hath for his valour blazon'd,
Not only through Mantua,
But through the spacious bounds of Italy,
Where 'twas shown.
Ferar. Hath feme been so injurious to thy merit,
That this great Court is not already fill'd
With rumour of their matchless chivalry ?
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 157
Flor. If these be they, as by their outward sem-
blance
They promised not much less, fame hath been harbinger
To speak their praise beforehand. Noble gentlemen,
You have much grac'd our Court : we thank you for't ;
And, though no way according to your merits,
Still will we strive to cherish such brave spirits.
Spenc. Th' acceptance of our smallest service, sir,
Is bounty above gold: we're poor gentlemen,
And, though we cannot, gladly would deserve.
Goodl. 'T has pleas'd these Princes to bestow on us
Too great a character, and gild our praises
Far above our deserts.
Flor. That's but your modesty.
English gentlemen, let fame speak for you.
Ferar. Gentlemen of England, we pardon you all
duty;
"We accept you as our friends and our companions :
Such you are, and .such we do esteem you.
Spenc. Mighty Prince, such boldness wants excuse.
Flor. Come, we'll ha't so.
Amazement ! Can it be ? Sure 'tis the self-same
jewel
I gave the English lady : more I view it,
More it confirms my knowledge. Now is no time
To question it. Once more, renowned Englishmen,
Welcome to us and to these Princes.
Enter ROUGHMAN land Merchant].
Rough. Can any man show me the great Duke of
Florence?
Mer. Behold the Prince.
Rough. Deign then, renowned Duke, to cast thy eyes
Upon a poor dejected gentleman,
Whom fortune hath dejected even to nothing.
158 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
I have nor meat nor money: these rags are all my
riches.
Only necessity compels me claim
A debt owing by you.
Flor. By us?
Let's know the sum* and how the debt accrues.
Rough. You have proclaimed to him could bring the
head
Of the banditties* Captain, for his reward,
A thousand crowns. Now, I being a gentleman,
A traveller, and in want, made this my way
To raise my ruinM hope. I singled him,
Fought with Tnm hand to hand, and from his bloody
shoulders
Lopped this head.
Flor. Boldly and bravely done. Whate'er thou be,
Thou shalt receive it from our treasury.
Rough. You show yourself as fame reports you,
A bounteous Prince, and liberal to all strangers.
Flor. From what country
Do you claim your birth?
Rvugh. From England, royal sir.
Flor. These bold Englishmen,
I think, are all compos'd of spirit and fire ;
The element of earth hath no part in them.
Mant. If, as you say, from England, we retain
Some of your countrymen. Know you these gentle-
men?
Bough. Let me no longer live in ecstasy ;
This wonder will confound me. Noble friends,
Bootless it were to ask you why, because
I find you here. Illustrious Duke, you owe
Me nothing now; to show me these, is reward
Beyond what you prodaim'd: the rest m pardon.
Flor. What these are we know,
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST* 159
And what thou art we need not question much :
That head, though mute, can speak it.
Princes, once more receive our royal welcome.
Oh I but the jewel : but of that at leisure ;
Now we cannot stay. Our train lead on. [Flourish.
[Exeunt Dukes^ fyc.
Bpenc. Oh I that we three so happily should meet,
And want the fourth.
Rough. I left her in the hands
Of rape and murder ; whence, except some deity,
'Twas not in the power of man to rescue her.
However, a good office I have done her,
Which even in death her soul will thank me for,
Keveng'd her on that villain.
Goodl. It hath expressed the nobleness of thy spirit ;
For it we still shall owe thee.
Rough. But what adventure hath preferred you,
And brought you thus in grace ?
Goodl. You shall hereafter
Partake of that at large. But, leaving this discourse.
With our joint persuasions let's strive to comfort him.
That's nothing but discomfort.
Ro'ugh. Would I had brought him news of that rare
virtue!
Yet you have never heard of our late shipwreck.
Goodl. Clem reported it.
Rough. How? Clem! where'she?
Goodl. He has got a service hard by, and draws wine.
Rough. His master may well trust him with his
maids;
For, since the Bashaws gelded him, he has learnt
To run exceeding nimbly.
Re-enter Merchant.
Her. Sir, 'tis to you, I take it,
160 THE FAIB MAID OF THE "WEST.
My message is directed.
The Duke would have some conference with you,
But it must be in private.
Spenc. I am his servant, still at his command.
Where shall *s meet, anon ?
Goodl. At Cl&tfs.
Spenc. Content.
Goodl. Where we'll make a due relation
Of all our desperate fortunes.
Rough. *Tis concluded. [Exeunt.
Explicit Actus quartus.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. ] 61
ACTUS QUTNTUS, SCESTA PBIMA.
Enter Duke ^FLORENCE and SPENCER.
Flor. I cannot rest till I am fully resolv'd
About this jewel. Sir, we sent to stay you,
And wean you some small season from your friends ;
And you above the rest, because your presence
Doth promise good discourse.
Spenc. Sir, I am all yours.
Flor. How long Lath been your sojourn here in Flo-
rence ?
Spenc. Two days ; no more.
Flor. Have you^ since your arrival,
RetainM no beauteous mistress ? Pardon me,
Sir, that I am come thus near you.
Spenc. On my soul,
Not any, royal sir.
Flor. Think it my love that I presume thus far
To question you. Have you observed no lady
Of special note, courted or discoursed with any
Within these two days ?
Spenc. Upon my honour, none.
Flor. Tou are a soldier and a gentleman,
And should speak all truth.
Spenc. If otherwise, I should disclaim my gentry.
Flor. I believe you, sir. You have a rich jewel here,
Worthy a prince's wearing : 'twere not modesty
To ask you how you came by it, or from whom ?
Spenc. Nor can I, sir, resolve you, if you did ;
But it was cast me by a lady, of whom,
As then, I took small notice o my mind
Being troubled.
Flor. 'Tis even so.
164? THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Death will end all ; and I presume on this :
*Tis way to Spencer , and my haven of bliss.
[She lies to sleep.
Enter SPENCER.
Spenc* What beauty should this be, on whom the
Duke
Is grown so jealous ? Sure 'tis some rare piece.
He told me she was fairer
Than I could either judge, or yet imagine.
Would Bess were here, to wager beauties with her,
For all my hopes in England ! This is the chamber.
Hah I thus far off she seems to promise well.
Pll take a nearer and more free survey :
This taper shall assist me. Fail my eyes,
Or meet I nothing else but prodigies ?
Oh, heavens ! it is my Bess. Oh, sudden rapture I
Let me retire to more considerate thoughts.
What should I think but presently to wake her,
And, being mine, to seize her where I find her ?
Oh ! but mine oath, that I should never, never
Lie with her, being my wife, nor kiss her, touch her,
Speak to her one familiar syllable.
Can oaths bind thus ? My honesty, faith, and religion,
Are all engag'd ; there's no dispense for them.
And yet, in all this conflict, to remember
How the Duke prais'd her virtue, chastity,
And constancy, whom nothing could coiTupt,
Adds to my joys. But on the neck of this,
It lays a double torture on my life,
First to forswear, then leave so fair a wife, [ftlie starts.
Bess. I am all distraction! In my sleep
I saw him : could I but behold him waking,
That were a heaven. Hah I
Do I dream still, or was I born to see
Nothing but strange illusions ? Spencw ! Love I
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST* 165
Spenc. I am neither.
Bess. Thou hast his shape, his gait, his face, his lan-
guage;
Only these words of thine, and str-ange behaviour,
Never came from him* Let me embrace thee.
Spenc. No.
Bess. Then kiss me.
Spenc. No.
Bess. Yet speak me fair.
Spenc. I cannot.
Bess. Look on me.
Spenc. I must not, I will not. Fare thee well :
Yet first read that.
Bess. I have read too much already,
Within thy change of looks.
Spenc. Oh me ! mj^path :
I'd chop oft* this right hand, to cancel it.
Bess, But if not now, when then ?
Spenc. Never.
Bess. Not kiss me ?
Spenc. No.
Bess. Not fold thee in thine arms ?
Spenc. Not.
Bess. Nor cast a gracious look upon thy Bess ?
Spenc. I dare not.
Bess. Never?
Spenc. No; never.
Bess. Oh, I shall die I [She swoons.
Spenc. She faints; and yet I dare not, for my
oath,
Once to support her , dies before mine eyes,
And yet I must not call her back to life.
Where is the Duke ? Some help I no ladies nigh ?
Are you all, all asleep, or dead,
There's no more noise in Court ?
166* THE FAIIl MAID OJF THJB W1CBT.
Enter Duke and 7m train.
Flor. Hah ! what's the business ? Noble friend, what
news?
How speed you with my mistress ?
Spenc. You may see there on the ground, half
In the grave already. So fare you well :
What grief mine is, those that love best can tell. [JBtvit.
Flor. Support her. Speak, love: look up, divincst
mistress.
Seas. You said you would not speak, nor look, nor
touch
Your Bess.
Flor. Who, I?
By all my hopes, I ne'er had such a thought.
Bess. Oh ! I mistook. ^
Flor. Why do you look so ghastly about the room ?
Whom do your eyes inquire for?
Bess. Nothing 5 nay, nobody.
Flor. Why do you weep ?
Bess. Hath some new love possessed him, and excluded
Me from his bosom ? Can it be possible ?
Flor. AH leave the chamber.
Bess. But 111 be so reveng'd as never woman was:
PI! be a precedent to all wives, hereafter,
How to pay home their proud, neglectful husbands.
'Tis in my way ; I've power, and I'll do it.
Flor. What is't offends you ?
Bess. 'Tis you have don 't.
Flor. We?
Bess. If you be the Prince,
There's but one man I hate above all the world*
And you have sent him to torment me here.
Flor. What satisfaction shall I make thee for't ?
Bess. This, and this only. If you have any interest
TJIE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 167
In him, or power above him. If you be a Prince
In your own country, have command and rule
In your own dominions, freely resign his person
And his state solely to my disposure.
Flor. But whence grows
The ground of such inveterate hate ?
Bess. All circumstances to omit,
He, and only he, ravish'd me from my country :
He was the cause of all my afflictions,
Tempests, shipwreck, fears. I never had just cause
Of care and grief, but he was author of it.
Speak : is he mine ?
Flor. What interest I can clainr, either by oath
Or promise, thou art commandress of.
Bess. Then I am yours ;
And to-morrow, in the public view of all
The stranger Princes, courtiers, and ladies,
I will express myself. This night I entreat
I may repose myself in my own lodging,
For private meditations.
Flor. What we have promis'd,
Is in our purpose most irrevocable ;
And so, we hope, is yours.
Bess. You may presume, my lord.
Flor. Conduct this lady to her chamber :
Let her have all observance. We will lay
Our strict command on him, lest he should leave
Our city before our summons : 'tis to-morrow, then.
Shall happy thee, make us most blest of men.
\_Exit
Bess. Now shall I quite him home. Th' ingrate shall
know,
Tis above patience to be injured go,
1G8 THE 1TAIB MAID OJP THE WEST.
Her. Will you walk, lady, or take your coach ?
Bess. That we the streets more freely may survey,
We'll walk along. \JSaseunt*
Enter CLEM, with his pots.
Clem. Let me see three quarts, two pottles, one gal
Ion, and a pint; one pint, two quarts more, then I have my
load : thus are we that are under-journeymen pxit to't.
Oh! the fortune of the seas: never did man that marries
a whore so cast himself away, as I had been like i' th*
last tempest : yet nothing vexes me so much, that, after
all my travels, no man that meets me but may say, and
say very truly, I am now no better than a pot com-
panion.
Enter BESS, Merchant.
JBess. That should be Cfau, my man. Give me some
gold."
Here, sirrah ; drink this to the health
Of thy old mistress. Usher on :
We have more serious things to think upon.
[Exeunt BESS and Merchant.
Clem. Mistress Bess I Mistress Elizabeth! 'tis she.
Hah I gold I Hence, pewter pots 5 I'll be a pewter
porter no longer. My mistress turned gallant; and
shall I do nothing but run up-stairs and down stairs
with Anon, anon, sir? No; I have gold, and anon
will be as gallant as the proudest of them. Shall I
stand at the bar, to bar any man's casting that driuks
hard ? No ; I'll send these pots home by some porter
or other, put myself into a better habit, and say, the
case is altered: then will I go home to the Bush, whore
I drew wine, and buy out my time, and take up my
chamber ; be served in pomp by my fellow prentices.
I will presently thither,
Where I will flaunt it in my cap and feather.
THE FAIK MAID OF THE WEST. ] 69
Enter GOODJLACK, SPENCEB, KOUGHMAN.
GoodL You tell us of the strangest wonderment
That ever came within the compass of my knowledge.
Spenc. I tell you but what's true.
GoodL It cannot find example. Did you leave her
In those extremities of passion ?
Spenc. I think dying, or the next way to death.
GoodL To cheer you,
The Duke's own witness of her constancy
And virtue, arm'd against all temptations,
Part of your griefs should lessen.
Spenc. Rather, friend.
Augment my passions, to be forc'd to lose
And quite abjure so sweet a bedfellow.
Oh I it breeds more distraction.
GoodL Wer't my cause,
I'd to the Duke, and claim her ; beg for justice,
And through the populous Court
Clamour my wrongs, if he detain her from you.
Spenc. But my oath
Ties me from that. I have quite abjur'd her;
I have renounc'd her freely; cast her off;
Disclaim'd her quite. I can no more
Interest claim in her than, Goodlack,
Thou, or jRoughman* thou.
GoodL *Tis most strange Let's examine all our
brains
How this may be avoided.
Rough. How now, Clem J you loiter here ? the house
is full of guests, and you are extremely called for.
Olem. You are deceived, my Lieutenant, I'll assure
you: you speak to as good a man as myself. Do you
want any money?
GoodL Canst thou lend me any ?
170 THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST.
Clem. Look ; I am the lord of these mines, of these
Indies.
Rough. How earnest thou by them ?
Clem. A delicate, sweet lady, meeting me i' th' street,
like an ass groaning under my heavy burthen, and being
enamoured of my good parts, gave me this gold. If
you think I lie, examine all these pots, whose mouths,
if they could speak, would say as much in my behalf.
But if you want any money, speak in time ; for, if I
once turn courtier again, I will scorn my poor friends,
look scurvily upon my acquaintance, borrow of all men,
be beholding to any man, and acknowledge no man ;
and my motto shall be, Base is the man that pays.
Rough. But, Clem, how earnest thou by this gold ?
Clem. News, news ! though not the lost sheep, yet
the lost shrew is found my mistress, Mistress Eliza-
beth, 'tis she. She, meeting me i 3 th' street, seeing I had
a pot or two too much, gave me ten pounds in a purse
to pay for it: Ecce signum*
Enter a Lord.
Lord. The Duke hath summoned your appearance,
gentlemen,
And lays his power of love* not of command,
To visit him in Court.
Clem. I am put into the number, too. If he bo a toll
man, tell him we will attend his highness.
Lord. Fellow, my language was not aim'd at you.
Clem. But, sir, 111 make bold to come at first bidding*
Lord. Sir, your reward stays for you at Court,
For bringing of the outlawed Captain's head :
There's order ta'en for 't from the treasury.
Rough. The Duke is just and royal. Well attend you.
Clem. And I'll go furnish myself with some better
accoutrements, and 111 be with you to bring presently.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 171
Enter FLORENCE, MANTUA, and FERRARA.
Mant. There is not in your looks, renowned Florence,
That summer's calm and sweet alacrity
That was wont there to shine : a winter's storm
Sits threatening on your discontented brow.
May we desire the cause ?
Flor* Which you shall know.
Princes, the fierce and bloody Moors have late
Committed outrage on our seas, especially
One mighty Bashaw, 'gainst whom w' have sent
Pietro di Ventura, one of our best sea captains ;
And till we hear of his success, w** are barr'd
Of much content.
Enter Merchant.
Mer. My lord, good news. Pietro di Venture is rc-
turn'd,
With happy victory, and many noble prisoners,
And humbly lays his conquest at your feet.
Enter PIETRO, Ba&liaw JOFFER.
Flor, Pietro, welcome. This thy service shall not
Die unrewarded. Freely relate
The manner of thy sea fight.
Pietro. Then thus, great Duke.
This noble Bashaw noble I must call him,
For he deserves that worthy attribute
Did lord o'er these our seas, appointed well,
Laden with many a rich and golden spoil,
Not weak to us in number ; being in ken,
We had hi and his galleys straight in chase.
He ne'er set sail, or fled : afar our ordnance play'd ;
Coming more near, our muskets and our small shot,
Like showers of hail, began the slaughter.
172 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEST.
There this Bashaw, then perceiving straight
That he must either yield or die, his scimitar
He pointed to his breast, thinking thereon
To perish, had not my coming stay'd him.
Jeff. Nor think, bold Christian,
That I can commend, or thank thee for 't ;
For who that's noble will not prize brave death
Before a slavish bondage ? Had I died
By mine own hand, 't had been a soldier's pride.
Flor. Although a prisoner, captive, and a Moor,
Yet use him like the noblest of his nation.
And now withdraw with him, till we determine
Of his ransom. \Exeunt PIJBTJRO and
Enter Merchant and BESS ; also SPENCER, KOCJGIIMAK,
GOODLACK.
Mer. Way there, for the Duke's mistress !
Spenc. Hah ! the Duke's mistress, said he ?
GoodL It was harsh.
Hess. Keep off: we would have no such rubs as thctfe
Trouble our way, but have them swept aside
A company of base companions,
To do no reverence
To a Prince's mistress.
Spenc. Hear you that ?
Mer* Give back : you trouble the presence.
Goodl. This cannot be Bess, but some fury hath
stolen her shape.
Rough. It seems strange.
Spenc. But unto me most horrid.
Bess. GreatDuke, Icome to keep my promise with you,
If you keep your word with me.
Flor. These kind regreets are unto me more welcome
Than my late victory got at sea. WilTt please you
Take your seat ?
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 173
Mer. Is not yon Spencer? and that the Captain of the
Negro ?
Spenc. What shall we next behold ?
Flur. Yet are you mine ?
Bess. From all the world: great Florence, witness this.
You ne'er had yet a voluntary kiss.
Spenc. 'Sfoot ! I could tear my hair off.
Flor. Second your kindness : let these Princes see
Your tempting lips solely belong to me.
Bess. There's one again. It surfeits me 'bove measure,
To be a Prince's darling, and choice treasure.
Spenc. Hold me, Goodlack, or I shall break out
Into some dangerous outrage.
Goodl. Show in this your wisdom, and quite suppress
your fury.
Flor. Princes, I fear you have mistook yourselves
In these two strangers ; for I have little hope
To find them worthy your great character.
Mant. There must be great presumption, that must
force belief to that.
Ferar. Nay, more than presumptions, proofs,
Or they will win small credit.
Flor. You had from us, lady, a costly jewel ;
It cost ten thousand crowns : speak, can you show it ?
Bess. I kept it chary
As mine own heart, because it came from you ;
But hurrying through the street, some cheating fellow
Snatch'd it from my arm : therefore, my suit is,
With whomsoever the jewel may be found,
The slave may die.
Flor. His sentence thine; we never will revoke it.
Our merchant, search all our courtiers, and such
Strangers as are within our Court.
Her. Here's one, of no mean lustre, that this gentle-
man wears in his hat.
174 THE FAIB MAID OP THE WEST.
Flor. Beach it the lady.
Goodl. This cannot be Bess Bridges^ but some Medusa ',
Changed into her lively portraiture.
Bess. Princes, the thief is found. Whatever he be,
That's guilty of this felony, I beg
That I may be his sentences
Flor. Thou shalt.
Bess. I you have any interest in his blood,
Has oaths, or vowfc, freely resign them, him
And all at my dispose.
Flor. Have we not done 't?
Ferar. Who can with the least honour speak for him,
The theft being so apparent ?
Clem. Now, if she should challenge me with the purse
she gave me, and hang me up for my labour, I should
curse the time that ever I was a courtier.
Bess. Let me descend ; and ere I judge the felon,
Survey him first. *Tis pity; for it seems
He hath an honest face. The word was, never.
Goodl. What, Bess! forget yourself ?
Bess. An indifferent proper man, and take these
courses ?
You said you would not spea&, nor look upon., nor touch
your Bess.
Spenc. I could be a new Sinon, and betray
A second Troy, rather than suffer this.
Bess. Grood outward parts; but in a foreign clime,
Shame your own country? Never think of that.
Spenc. I fear my heart will break,
It doth so struggle for irruption forth.
Flor. "When do you speak his sentence, lady ?
Bess. YouTl confirm 't, whate'er it be ?
Flor. As we are Prince, we wilJL
Bess. Set forth the prisoner.
Mer. Stand forward, Englishman.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 175
Bess. Then hear thy doom. I give thee back thy life,
And in thy arms throw a most constant wife.
If thou hast rashly sworn, thy oaths are free :
Th* art mine by gift. I give myself to thee.
Flor. Lady, we understand not this.
Bess. Shall I make it plain?
This is, great Duke, my husband,
Whose virtues even the barbarous Moors admir'd.
This the man for whom a thousand dangers I've
endur'd ;
Of whom the best approved chroniclers
Might write a golden legend.
Mer. My lord, I know that gentleman
For Spencer, and her husband ; for mine eyes
Saw them espous'd in Fez. That gentleman,
As I take it, was Captain of the Negro ;
Th' other his Lieutenant.
Clem. And do not you know me ?
Her. Not I, sir.
Clem* I am Bashaw of Barbary : by the same token I
sold certain precious stones to purchase the place.
Flor. Lady, you told us he was the author
Of all your troubles, cares, and fears.
Bess. I told true : his love was cause'of alL
It drew me from my country in his quest,
Wlaen I despaired, and finding him in Fez,
Oh ! do but think, great Duke, if e'er you lov'd,
What might have bought him from you.
Had my Spencer been an Eurydice 9
I would have played the Orphew,
And found him out in helL
Flor. We now perceive
The cause of all these errors his unkindness,
Grounded on his rash oath, which we release :
And all those virtues, honours, and renowns,
176 THE FAIB MAID OF THE WEPT.
Which e'en the barbarous Moors seem'd to admire,
We'll dignify, and raise their suffrage higher.
AIL Florence is honourable.
Flor. Bring in the Bashaw* Call Ventura forth.
Enter PIETRO, JOFFER.
Jeff. Duke, I am prisoner :
Put me to ransom, or to death ; but to death, rather ;
3Tor methinks a soldier should not outlive bondage.
Spenc. Bashaw Joffer ?
Leave my embraces, Bess ; for I of force am cast
Into his arms. My noble friend I
Jqff. I know you not ; and I could wish you did not
know me, now I am a prisoner, a wretch, a captive, and
such a one as I would not have my friends to know. I
pray, stand off.
Spenc. Because you are in durance,
Should I not know you ? No ;
For then the noblest minds should friends best know.
Have you forgot me, sir ?
Jqff. No: were I in freedom, and my princely
honours,
I should then be proud to call you Spencer,
And my friend ; but now
Spenc. An English virtue thou shalt try,
That for my life once didst not fear to die.
That for his noble office done to me,
Embrace him, Bess, dear Goodlack, and the rest,
Whilst to this Prince I kneel. This was the Bashaw,
King Mullisheg made him great Viceroy of Argiera :
I know not, Prince, how he is fallen so low 5
But if myself, my friends, and all my fortunes,
May redeem him home, unto my naked skin
I'll sell myself: and if my wealth will not
Amount so much, 111 leave myself in hostage.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 177
Fer. 'Tis the part of a most noble friend.
Mer. And in these times worthy admiration.
Flor. I wonder not the Moors so grac'd this nation,
If all the English equal their virtues.
For this brave stranger, so endear'd to thee,
Pass to thy country, ransomless and free.
All. Royal in all things is the Duke of Florence.
Joff. Such honour is not found in Barbary.
The virtue in these Christians hath converted me,
Which to the world I can no longer smother :
Accept me, then, a Christian and a brother.
Flor. Princes, these unexpected novelties
Shall add unto the high solemnity
Of your best welcome. Worthy Englishman,
And you, the mirror of your sex and nation,
Fair English Elizabeth^ as well for virtue
As admired beauty, we'll give you cause,
Ere you depart our Court, to say great Fez
Was either poor, or else not bountiful.
Bashaw, we'll honour your conversion
With all due rites. But for yon beauteous lady,
Thus much in your behalf we do proclaim
The fairest maid ne'er patterned in her life,
So fair a virgin, and so chaste a wife.
Epilogue.
Still the more glorious ttat tibie creatures be,
They in their native goodness are more free
To things below them ; as the sun we find
TJnpartially to shine on all mankind,
Denying light to none. And you we may
(Great King) most justly call our light, our day :
While earth hath sovereign, or the heaven a sun.
NOTES TO THE FAIR MAID O3T THE WEST. 179
NOTES.
Page 93, line 19. And no pretended boldness.] To pretend was con-
stantly used, of old, in the sense of to intend. The instances are too
numerous to need citation. The word will be found again in this play.
Page 96, line 13. Exeunt. Recorders."] In the first part of this play
the music was hautboys, but here "recorders** are heard, before the en-
trance of Mullisheg and his train. See " Hamlet," act iiL, sc. 2.
Page 99, line 33. Forspeak me not.] *'.*., forbid me not, in this
instance; but it sometimes means to foretell and to bewitch. Shake-
speare, hi " Antony and Cleopatra, 1 * act iii., sc. 7, uses it merely as
forbid:
" Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars,
And say'st, it is not fit."
Page 100, line 8. This royal purchase.] *.*., this royal booty, or
prize ; a sense the word " purchase " often bears in old writers.
Page 106, line 14. Sellenger's round and Tom Tiler.] Two popular
" fiddler's tunes:** Sellenger's round was also called "The Beginning of
the World,* 1 and is mentioned by many authors. Tom Tiler is one of
the dances played by " Old Father Rosin, chief Minstrel of Plighgate,"
in Ben Jonson's " Tale of a Tub,*' act i., sc. 2. Edit. GuTord.
Page 1 18, line 8. Enter Porter.] The word * Porter " is inserted in
the margin ; and it is clear that his entrance is intended, as before, though
it is not marked.
Page 119, line 11. In this fierce conflict brings it without all bounds.]
In the original it stands, "brings 'em ;" but the true reading must be what
we have printed, hi reference to the life of Spencer, which is brought
without all bounds of pardon.
180 NOTES TO
Page 123, line 2. Enter Mullisheg and Tota.] The entrance of Mul-
lisheg only is mentioned in the old copy, but Tota is also on the stage, Loth
at the same time stealthily quitting the apartment where they had slept.
Page 123, line 22. The entrance of Alcade, like that of some other
characters in subsequent scenes, does not appear in the old copy.
Page 126, line 27. Enter Captain Goodlack, &c.] This scene, of
course, takes place on board Bess's ship, the Negro, off Algiers.
Page 128, line 1. Some fifteen minutes.] In the original, this is
made part of what Bess says, but it is clearly the reply of Goodlack,
Page 129, line 30. Swoons.'] This stage- direction is necessary, as
appears by the next speech of Bess, but it is not found in the old copy.
Page 134, line 9. His life is merely forfeit.] We only need say here,
once for all, that, in our old writers, " merely" is commonly used for
absolutely, as in this instance.
Page 136, line 25. Character thy lust.] ta, write thy lust in cha-
racter^ or letters, upon my breast a by no means unusual application of
the word. So "Hamlet," act i., sc. 3
"And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character"
Page 136, line 28. Kneels.] Bess kneels to Mullisheg, but the neces-
sary direction is omitted in the original.
Page 138, line 32. And sinks into the arms of Eoughmau.] lu the
old copy it stands, " beneath the arms of Boughman," which must be au
error. She swooned, and Boughman received her in his arms.
Page 139, line 7. Dumb show.] We are to suppose that these various
events were represented in some way, however imperfectly, to the eyes
of the audience.
Page 140, line 3. All is lost !] Bess and her two companions enter,
as after shipwreck, on the coast of Tuscany, here called "the coast of
Florence."
Page 145, line 10. That I may call you servant.] The sense ought
rather to be, " that I may call me your servant," or lover, which was the
frequent meaning of " servant" at that time. The answer of Bess war-
rants our interpretation of the text; and omitting "me," in the next
Jiemestich, into which it perhaps escaped from the line above, the measure
is complete. However, Heywood's verse is often so confused and irre-
gular, that the metre is a very unsure guide.
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. 181
Page 145, line 27. Enter Clem, solus.'] The exit of Clem has taken
place, probably, when the banditti got the better of Boughman, but it is
not marked in the old copy, and the insertion of it was necessary for the
intelligibility of the scene. We must suppose that Clem comes sneaking
in, again, when he sees the coast clear, not being aware of what had
passed between the Prince of Ferrara, Bess, &c., after the banditti had
been driven away.
Page 146, line 7. To satisfy colon.] The name of the principal in-
testine, and often used by our early dramatists for the stomach: thus
Mddleton, in " More Dissemblers besides Women," act iii. " For colon
is sharp set oftentimes." It is needless to multiply authorities.
Page 146, line 8. It is not now with me as when Andrea liv'd.]
Clem has quoted this line before (p. 68), but without the obvious inter-
polation of " with me." It may be observed here, that in the copies of
" The Spanish Tragedy" that have come down to us, the play does not
open with any such line.
Page 146, line 12. An under-skinker.] i.e., an under-drawer. See
" Henry IV,," Part I., act ii., sc. 4. A sckenker, in Dutch, means a per-
son who fills the cups or glasses. It will be found that Clem obtains the
office of an under-drawer.
Page 146, line 18. Enter Boughman, bleeding.] Boughman had
been beaten off the stage by the banditti, on p. 141 ; and he, like Clem,
returns to it, ignorant of what had subsequently happened.
Page 147, line 1. Enter Duke of Florence, Merchant.] This scene
we may suppose to take place in the palace of the Duke.
Page 148, line 18. Enter Spencer and Groodlack.] The scene must
have been some part of Florence, near the tavern where Clem has been
hired, which Spencer and Goodlack just afterwards enter.
Page 153, line 13. Flourish. Enter Florence, &c.] The scene changes
to the Court of the Duke of Florence, where he receives the Dukes of
Mantua and Ferrara.
Page 157, line 28. Enter Boughman and Merchant.] The old direc-
tion only mentions Boughman, but the prefix, Mer., immediately follows
Boughman's first speech, and the Merchant must have entered with him.
It appears afterwards that Boughman brought with him the head of the
Captain of banditti.
Page 167, line 25. Enter Merchant,] He seems engaged in rather
1 82 NOTES TO THE FAIR MAID OP THE WEST.
incongruous duties for the Duke. His entrance is not here marked, but
the prefix to the next speech but two shows that he was the person em-
ployed to attend on the heroine.
Page 167, line 32. Now shall I quite him home.] 1.0., reguite^ or
pay him home a sense the word "quite" (sometimes printed quit)
often bears in Shakespeare. See "Henry V.," act iiL, sc. 2 " Hamlet,"
act v., sc. 2, &c.
Page 168, line 4. Enter Clem, with his pots.] The scene necessarily
changes to some street in Florence.
Page 169, line 6. In those extremities of passion.] The preposition
"in 1 * seems to have been accidentally battered out of the type, but a
small part of the letter is still visible.
Page 170, line 13. Base is the man that pays.] So Pistol, in " Henry V.,"
act ii. sc. 1 "Base is the slave that pays." Steevens supposed, with rea-
son, that the expression was proverbial.
Page 171, line 19. Enter Ketro, Bashaw Joffer.] By the prefixes we
find it to be Joffer, but in the stage-direction of the old copy he is merely
called "Bashaw."
Page 174, line 19. The word was, never.] Bess is repeating hero and
afterwards what Spencer had sworn. We have followed the old copy,
by printing her quotations in italic, for greater clearness. . ,*>
