A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX - Various
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ILF. What am I the better for thy answer?
CLOWN. What am I the better for thy question?
ILF. Why, nothing.
CLOWN. Why, then, of nothing comes nothing.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW.
WEN. 'Sblood, this is a philosophical fool.
CLOWN. Then I, that am a fool by art, am better than you, that are fools
by nature. [_Exit_.
SCAR. Gentlemen, welcome to Yorkshire.
ILF. And well-encountered, my little villain of fifteen hundred a year.
'Sfoot, what makest thou here in this barren soil of the North, when
thy honest friends miss thee at London?
SCAR. Faith, gallants, 'tis the country where my father lived, where
first I saw the light, and where I am loved.
ILF. Loved! ay, as courtiers love usurers, and that is just as long as
they lend them money. Now, dare I lay--
WEN. None of your land, good knight, for that is laid to mortgage
already.
ILF. I dare lay with any man, that will take me up.
WEN. _Who list to have a lubberly load_. [_Sings this_.[334]
ILF. Sirrah wag, this rogue was son and heir to Antony Now-now[335] and
Blind Moon. And he must needs be a scurvy musician, that hath two
fiddlers to his fathers: but tell me, in faith, art thou not--nay, I
know thou art, called down into the country here by some hoary knight or
other who, knowing thee a young gentleman of good parts and a great
living, hath desired thee to see some pitiful piece of his workmanship
--a daughter, I mean. Is't not so?
SCAR. About some such preferment I came down.
ILF. Preferment's a good word. And when do you commence into the
cuckold's order--the preferment you speak of? when shall we have
gloves;[336] when, when?
SCAR. Faith, gallants, I have been guest here but since last night.
ILF. Why, and that is time enough to make up a dozen marriages, as
marriages are made up nowadays. For look you, sir; the father, according
to the fashion, being sure you have a good living, and without
encumbrance, comes to you thus:--takes you by the hand thus:--wipes his
long beard thus:--or turns up his moustachio thus:--walks some turn or
two thus:--to show his comely gravity thus:--and having washed his foul
mouth thus: at last breaks out thus.----
WEN. O God! let us hear no more of this?
ILF.----Master Scarborow, you are a young gentleman; I knew your
father well, he was my worshipful good neighbour, for our demesnes lay
near together. Then, sir, you and I must be of more near acquaintance,
at which you must make an eruption thus:--O God (sweet sir)--
BAR. 'Sfoot, the knight would have made an excellent Zany in an Italian
comedy.
ILF. When he goes forward thus: Sir, myself am lord of some thousand a
year, a widower (Master Scarborow). I have a couple of young gentlewomen
to my daughters: a thousand a year will do well divided among them; ha,
will't not, Master Scarborow? At which you out of your education must
reply thus: The portion will deserve them worthy husbands: on which
tinder he soon takes fire, and swears you are the man his hopes shot at,
and one of them shall be yours.
WEN. If I did not like her, should he swear himself[337] to the devil, I
would make him foresworn.
ILF. Then putting you and the young pug[338] too in a close room
together----
WEN. If he should lie with her there, is not the father partly the bawd?
ILF.----Where the young puppet, having the lesson before from the old
fox, gives the son half a dozen warm kisses which, after her father's
oaths, takes such impression in thee, thou straight call'st, By Jesu,
mistress, I love you!--when she has the wit to ask, But, sir, will you
marry me? and thou, in thy cock-sparrow humour, repliest, Ay, before
God, as I am a gentleman, will I; which the father overhearing, leaps
in, takes you at your word, swears he is glad to see this; nay, he will
have you contracted straight, and for a need makes the priest of
himself.
Thus in one hour, from a quiet life,
Thou art sworn in debt, and troubled with a wife.
BAR. But can they love one another so soon?
ILF. O, it is no matter nowadays for love; 'tis well, and they can but
make shift to lie together.
WEN. But will your father do this too, if he know the gallant breathes
himself at some two or three bawdy-houses in a morning?
ILF. O, the sooner; for that and the land together tell the old lad, he
will know the better how to deal with his daughter.
The wise and ancient fathers know this rule,
Should both wed maids, the child would be a fool.
Come, wag, if thou hast gone no further than into the ordinary fashion--
meet, see, and kiss--give over; marry not a wife, to have a hundred
plagues for one pleasure: let's to London, there's variety: and change
of pasture makes fat calves.
SCAR. But change of women bald knaves, sir knight.
ILF. Wag, and thou beest a lover but three days, thou wilt be heartless,
sleepless, witless, mad, wretched, miserable, and indeed a stark fool;
and by that thou hast been married but three weeks, though thou shouldst
wed a _Cynthia rara avis_, thou wouldst be a man monstrous--a cuckold,
a cuckold.
BAR. And why is a cuckold monstrous, knight?
ILF. Why, because a man is made a beast by being married. Take but
example thyself from the moon: as soon as she is delivered of her great
belly, doth she not point at the world with a pair of horns, as who
would say: Married men, ye are cuckolds.
SCAR. I construe more divinely of their sex:
Being maids, methinks they are angels; and being wives,
They are sovereign cordials that preserve our lives,[339]
They are like our hands that feed us; this is clear,
They renew man, as spring renews the year.
ILF. There's ne'er a wanton wench that hears thee, but thinks thee a
coxcomb for saying so: marry none of them; if thou wilt have their true
characters, I'll give it thee. Women are the purgatory of men's purses,
the paradise of their bodies, and the hell of their minds; marry none of
them. Women[340] are in churches saints, abroad angels, at home devils.
Here are married men enough know this: marry none of them.
SCAR. Men that traduce by custom, show sharp wit
Only in speaking ill; and practice it
Against the best creatures, divine women,
Who are God's agents' here, and the heavenly eye,
By which this orb hath her maturity:
Beauty in women gets the world with child,
Without whom she were barren, faint and wild.
They are the stems on which do angels grow,
From whence virtue is still'd, and arts do flow.
_Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _and his daughter_ CLARE.
ILF. Let them be what flowers they will; and they were roses, I will
pluck none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, here comes a
voider for us: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts,
there will be cuckolds in it. Do you hear, child, here's one come to
blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost
take her at his hands.
Though thou hadst Argus' eyes, be sure of this,
Women have sworn with more than one to kiss.
HAR. Nay, no parting, gentlemen. Hem!
WEN. 'Sfoot, does he make punks of us, that he hems already?
HAR. Gallants,
Know old John Harcop keeps a wine-cellar,
Has travell'd, been at court, known fashions,
And unto all bear habit like yourselves--
The shapes of gentlemen and men of sort,
I have a health to give them, ere they part.
WEN. Health, knight! not as drunkards give their healths, I hope: to go
together by the ears when they have done?
HAR. My healths are Welcome: Welcome, gentlemen.
ILF. Are we welcome, knight, in faith?
HAR. Welcome, in faith, sir.
ILF. Prythee, tell me, hast not thou been a whoremaster?
HAR. In youth I swill'd my fill at Venus' cup,
Instead of full draughts now I am fain to sup.
ILF. Why then thou art a man fit for my company:
Dost thou hear? (_to_ WEN. _and_ BAR.) he is a good fellow of our stamp.
Make much of this[341] father.
[_Exeunt_.
_Manent_ SCARBOROW _and_ CLARE.
SCAR. The father and the gallants have left me here with a gentlewoman,
and if I know what to say to her, I am a villain. Heaven grant her life
hath borrowed so much impudence of her sex but to speak to me first:
for, by this hand, I have not so much steel of immodesty in my face to
parley to a wench without blushing. I'll walk by her, in hope she can
open her teeth. Not a word? Is it not strange a man should be in a
woman's company all this while and not hear her tongue. I'll go
further. God of his goodness! not a syllable. I think if I should take
up her clothes too, she would say nothing to me. With what words, trow,
does a man begin to woo. Gentlewoman, pray you, what is't a clock?
CLARE. Troth, sir, carrying no watch about me but mine eyes, I answer
you: I cannot tell.
SCAR. And if you cannot tell, beauty, I take the adage for my reply: you
are naught to keep sheep.
CLARE. Yet I am big enough to keep myself.
SCAR. Prythee tell me: are you not a woman?
CLARE. I know not that neither, till I am better acquainted with a man.
SCAR. And how would you be acquainted with a man?
CLARE. To distinguish betwixt himself and myself.
SCAR. Why, I am a man?
CLARE. That's more than I know, sir.
SCAR. To approve I am no less, thus I kiss thee.
CLARE. And by that proof I am a man too; for I have kissed you.
SCAR. Prythee, tell me, can you love?
CLARE. O Lord, sir, three or four things: I love my meat, choice of
suitors, clothes in the fashion, and, like a right woman, I love to have
my will.
SCAR. What think you of me for a husband?
CLARE. Let me first know what you think of me for a wife?
SCAR. Troth, I think you are a proper gentlewoman.
CLARE. Do you but think so?
SCAR. Nay, I see you are a very perfect proper gentlewoman.
CLARE. It is great pity then I should be alone without a proper man.
SCAR. Your father says I shall marry you.
CLARE. And I say, God forbid, sir! alas, I am a great deal too young.
SCAR. I love thee, by my troth.
CLARE. O, pray you do not so; for then you stray from the steps of
gentility; the fashion among them is to marry first, and love after by
leisure.
SCAR. That I do love thee, here by heaven I swear, And call it as a
witness to this kiss.
CLARE. You will not enforce me, I hope, sir?
SCAR. Make me this woman's husband! thou art my Clare:
Accept my heart, and prove as chaste as fair.
CLARE. O God! you are too hot in your gifts; should I accept them, we
should have you plead nonage some half a year hence, sue for
reversement, and say the deed was done under age.
SCAR. Prythee, do not jest.
CLARE. No (God is my record), I speak in earnest: and desire to know
Whether ye mean to marry me, yea or no?
SCAR. This hand thus takes thee as my loving wife.
CLARE. For better, for worse.
SCAR. Ay, till death us depart,[342] love.
CLARE. Why, then, I thank you, sir, and now I am like to have
That I long look'd for--a husband.
How soon from our own tongues is the word said
Captives our maiden-freedom to a head!
SCAR. Clare, you are now mine, and I must let you know,
What every wife doth to her husband owe:
To be a wife, is to be dedicate,
Not to a youthful course, wild and unsteady,
But to the soul of virtue, obedience,
Studying to please, and never to offend.
Wives have two eyes created, not like birds
To roam about at pleasure, but for[343] sentinels,
To watch their husbands' safety as their own.
Two hands; one's to feed him, the other herself:
Two feet, and one of them is their husbands'.
They have two of everything, only of one,
Their chastity, that should be his alone.
Their very thoughts they cannot term their own.[344]
Maids, being once made wives, can nothing call
Rightly their own; they are their husbands' all:
If such a wife you can prepare to be,
Clare, I am yours: and you are fit for me.
CLARE. We being thus subdued, pray you know then,
As women owe a duty, so do men.
Men must be like the branch and bark to trees,
Which doth defend them from tempestuous rage,
Clothe them in winter, tender them in age:
Or as ewes love unto their eanlings gives,[345]
Such should be husbands' custom to their wives.
If it appear to them they've stray'd amiss,
They only must rebuke them with a kiss;
Or clock them, as hens chickens, with kind call,
Cover them under wing, and pardon all:
No jars must make two beds, no strife divide them,
Those betwixt whom a faith and troth is given,
Death only parts, since they are knit by heaven:
If such a husband you intend to be,
I am your Clare, and you are fit for me.
SCAR. By heaven--
CLARE. Advise, before you swear, let me remember you,[346]
Men never give their faith and promise marriage,
But heaven records their oath: if they prove true,
Heaven smiles for joy; if not, it weeps for you:
Unless your heart, then, with your words agree,
Yet let us part, and let us both be free.
SCAR. If ever man, in swearing love, swore true,
My words are like to his. Here comes your father.
_Enter SIR JOHN HARCOP, ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and Butler_.
HAR. Now, Master Scarborrow.
SCAR. Prepar'd to ask, how you like that we have done:
Your daughter's made my wife, and I your son.
HAR. And both agreed so?
BOTH. We are, sir.
HAR. Then long may you live together, have store of sons!
ILF. 'Tis no matter who is the father. [_Aside_.]
HAR. But, son, here is a man of yours is come from London.
BUT. And brought you letters, sir.
SCAR. What news from London, butler?
BUT. The old news, sir. The ordinaries are full of cheaters, some
citizens are bankrupts, and many gentlemen beggars.
SCAR. Clare, here is an unwelcome pursuivant;
My lord and guardian writes to me, with speed
I must return to London.
HAR. And you being ward to him, son Scarborow,
And no ingrate,[347] it fits that you obey him.
SCAR.[348] It does, it does; for by an ancient law
We are born free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe.
Who are for London, gallants?
ILF. Switch and Spur, we will bear you company.
SCAR. Clare, I must leave thee--with what unwillingness,
Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip;
And though I must be absent from thine eye,
Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie.
Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass,
Making thy faith my constant looking-glass,
Till when--
CLARE. Till when you please, where'er you live or lie,
Your love's here worn: you're present[349] in my eye.
_Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE _and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.
LORD. Sir William,
How old, say you, is your kinsman Scarborow?
WIL. Eighteen, my lord, next Pentecost.
LORD. Bethink you, good Sir William,
I reckon thereabout myself; so by that account
There's full three winters yet he must attend
Under our awe, before he sue his livery:
Is it not so?
WIL. Not a day less, my lord.
LORD. Sir William, you are his uncle, and I must speak,
That am his guardian; would I had a son
Might merit commendations equal[350] with him.
I'll tell you what he is: he is a youth,
A noble branch, increasing blessed fruit,
Where caterpillar vice dare not to touch:
He bears[351] himself with so much gravity,
Praise cannot praise him with hyperbole:
He is one, whom older look upon as on a book:
Wherein are printed noble sentences
For them to rule their lives by. Indeed he is one,
All emulate his virtues, hate him none.
WIL. His friends are proud to hear this good of him.
LORD. And yet, Sir William, being as he is,
Young and unsettled, though of virtuous thoughts
By genuine disposition, yet our eyes
See daily precedents, [how] hopeful gentlemen,
Being trusted in the world with their own will,
Divert the good is look'd from them to ill;
Make their old names forgot, or not worth note:
With company they keep such revelling,
With panders, parasites, prodigies of knaves,
That they sell all, even their old fathers' graves.
Which to prevent we'll match him to a wife:
Marriage restrains the scope of single life.
WIL. My lord speaks like a father for my kinsman.
LORD. And I have found him one of noble parentage,
A niece of mine; nay, I have broke with her,
Know thus much of her mind, that[352] for my pleasure,
As also for the good appears in him,
She is pleased of all that's hers to make him king.
WIL. Our name is bless'd in such an honoured marriage.
_Enter_ DOCTOR BAXTER.
LORD. Also I have appointed Doctor Baxter,
Chancellor of Oxford, to attend me here:
And see, he is come. Good Master Doctor.
BAX. My honourable lord.
WIL. I have possess'd you[353] with this business, Master Doctor.
BAX. To see the contract 'twixt your honoured niece
And Master Scarborow?
LORD. 'Tis so, and I did look for him by this.
BAX. I saw him leave his horse, as I came up.
LORD. So, so.
Then he will be here forthwith: you, Master Baxter,
Go usher hither straight young Katherine,
Sir William here and I will keep this room,
Till you return.
[_Exit_ DOCTOR.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW.
SCAR. My honourable[354] lord.
LORD. 'Tis well-done, Scarborow.
SCAR. Kind uncle.
WIL. Thanks, my good coz.
LORD. You have been welcome in your country Yorkshire?
SCAR. The time that I spent there, my lord, was merry.
LORD. 'Twas well, 'twas very well! and in your absence
Your uncle here and I have been bethinking,
What gift 'twixt us we might bestow on you,
That to your house large dignity might bring,
With fair increase, as from a crystal spring.
_Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ KATHERINE.
SCAR. My name is bound to your benificence,
Your hands have been to me like bounty's purse,
Never shut up, yourself my foster nurse:
Nothing can from your honour come, prove me so rude,
But I'll accept, to shun ingratitude.
LORD. We accept thy promise, now return thee this,
A virtuous wife: accept her with a kiss.
SCAR. My honourable lord!
LORD. Fear not to take her, man: she will fear neither,
Do what thou canst, being both abed together.
SCAR. O, but my lord--
LORD. But me? dog of wax! come kiss, and agree,
Your friends have thought it fit, and it must be.
SCAR. I have no hands to take her to my wife.
LORD. How, sauce-box?
SCAR. O, pardon me, my lord; the unripeness of my years,
Too green for government, is old in fears
To undertake that charge.
LORD. Sir, sir, and sir knave, then here is a mellowed experience knows
how to teach you.
SCAR. O God.
LORD. O Jack,
Have[355] both our cares, your uncle and myself,
Sought, studied, found out, and for your good,
A maid, a niece of mine, both fair and chaste;
And must we stand at your discretion?
SCAR. O good my lord,
Had I two souls, then might I have two wives:
Had I two faiths, then had I one for her;
Having of both but one, that one is given
To Sir John Harcop's daughter.
LORD. Ha, ha! what's that? let me hear that again.
SCAR. To Sir John Harcop's Clare I have made an oath:
Part me in twain, yet she's one-half of both.
This hand the which I wear, it is half hers:
Such power hath faith and troth 'twixt couples young,
Death only cuts that knot tied with the tongue.
LORD. And have you knit that knot, sir?
SCAR. I have done so much that, if I wed not her,
My marriage makes me an adulterer:
In which black sheets I wallow all my life,
My babes being bastards, and a whore my wife.
_Enter_ SECRETARY.
LORD. Ha, is't even so? my secretary there,
Write me a letter straight to Sir John Harcop,
I'll see, sir Jack, and if that Harcop dare,
Being my ward, contract you to his daughter.
[_Exit_ SECRETARY.
_Enter_ STEWARD.
My steward too, post you to Yorkshire,
Where lies my youngster's land; and, sirrah,
Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [_Exit_ STEWARD.
Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me,
I'll make you poor enough: then mend yourself.
WIL. O cousin!
SCAR. O uncle!
LORD. Contract yourself, and where you list?
I'll make you know me, sir, to be your guard.
SCAR. World, now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward.
LORD. And where I meant myself to have disburs'd
Four thousand pounds, upon this marriage
Surrendered up your land to your own use,
And compass'd other portions to your hands,
Sir, I'll now yoke you still.
SCAR. A yoke indeed.
LORD. And, spite of them[356] dare contradict my will,
I'll make thee marry to my chambermaid. Come, coz.
[_Exit_.
BAX. Faith, sir, it fits you to be more advis'd.
SCAR, Do not you flatter for preferment, sir?
WIL. O, but, good coz!
SCAR. O, but, good uncle, could I command my love,
Or cancel oaths out of heaven's brazen book,
Engross'd by God's own finger, then you might speak.
Had men that law to love, as most have tongues
To love a thousand women with, then you might speak.
Were love like dust, lawful for every wind
To bear from place to place; were oaths but puffs,
Men might forswear themselves; but I do know,
Though, sin being pass'd with us, the act's forgot,
The poor soul groans, and she forgets it not.
WIL. Yet hear your own case.
SCAR. O, 'tis too miserable!
That I, a gentleman, should be thus torn
From mine own right, and forc'd to be forsworn.
WIL. Yet, being as it is, it must be your care,
To salve it with advice, not with despair;
You are his ward: being so, the law intends
He is to have your duty, and in his rule
Is both your marriage and your heritage.
If you rebel 'gainst these injunctions,
The penalty takes hold on you; which for himself
He straight thus prosecutes; he wastes your land,
Weds you where he thinks fit:[357] but if yourself
Have of some violent humour match'd yourself
Without his knowledge, then hath he power
To merce[358] your purse, and in a sum so great,
That shall for ever keep your fortunes weak,
Where otherwise, if you be rul'd by him,
Your house is rais'd by matching to his kin.
_Enter_ FALCONBRIDGE.
LORD. Now, death of me, shall I be cross'd
By such a jack? he wed himself, and where he list:
Sirrah malapert, I'll hamper you,
You that will have your will, come, get you in:
I'll make thee shape thy thoughts to marry her,
Or wish thy birth had been thy murderer.
SCAR. Fate, pity me, because I am enforc'd:
For I have heard those matches have cost blood,
Where love is once begun, and then withstood.
[_Exeunt_.
ACT II.
_Enter_ ILFORD, _and a_ PAGE _with him_.
ILF. Boy, hast thou delivered my letter?
BOY. Ay, sir, I saw him open the lips on't.
ILF. He had not a new suit on, had he?
BOY. I am not so well acquainted with his wardrobe, sir; but I saw a
lean fellow, with sunk eyes and shamble legs, sigh pitifully at his
chamber door, and entreat his man to put his master in mind of him.
ILF. O, that was his tailor. I see now he will be blessed, he profits by
my counsel: he will pay no debts, before he be arrested--nor then
neither, if he can find e'er a beast that dare but be bail for him; but
he will seal[359] i' th' afternoon?
BOY. Yes, sir, he will imprint for you as deep as he can.
ILF. Good, good, now have I a parson's nose, and smell tithe coming in
then. Now let me number how many rooks I have half-undone already this
term by the first return: four by dice, six by being bound with me, and
ten by queans: of which some be courtiers, some country gentlemen, and
some citizens' sons. Thou art a good Frank; if thou purgest[360] thus,
thou art still a companion for gallants, may'st keep a catamite, take
physic at the spring and the fall.
_Enter_ WENTLOE.
WEN. Frank, news that will make thee fat, Frank.
ILF. Prythee, rather give me somewhat will keep me lean; I have no mind
yet to take physic.
WEN. Master Scarborow is married, man.
ILF. Then heaven grant he may (as few married men do) make much of his
wife.
WEN. Why? wouldst have him love her, let her command all, and make her
his master?
ILF. No, no; they that do so, make not much of their wives, but give
them their will, and its the marring of them.
_Enter_ BARTLEY.
BAR. Honest Frank, valorous Frank, a portion of thy wit, but to help us
in this enterprise, and we may walk London streets, and cry _pish_ at
the serjeants.
ILF. You may shift out one term, and yet die in the Counter. These are
the scabs now that hang upon honest Job. I am Job, and these are the
scurvy scabs [_aside_]; but what's this your pot seethes over withal?
BAR. Master Scarborough is married, man.
WEN. He has all his land in his own hand.
BAR. His brother's and sister's portions.
WEN. Besides four thousand pounds in ready money with his wife.
ILF. A good talent,[361] by my faith; it might help many gentlemen to
pay their tailors, and I might be one of them.
WEN. Nay, honest Frank, hast thou found a trick for him? if thou hast
not, look, here's a line to direct thee. First draw him into bands[362]
for money, then to dice for it; then take up stuff at the mercer's;
straight to a punk with it; then mortgage his land, and be drunk with
that; so with them and the rest, from an ancient gentleman make him a
young beggar.
ILF. What a rogue this is, to read a lecture to me--and mine own lesson
too, which he knows I have made perfect to nine hundred fourscore and
nineteen! A cheating rascal! will teach me!--I, that have made them,
that have worn a spacious park, lodge, and all on their backs[363] this
morning, been fain to pawn it afore night! And they that have stalked
like a huge elephant, with a castle on their necks, and removed that to
their own shoulders in one day, which their fathers built up in seven
years--been glad by my means, in so much time as a child sucks, to drink
bottle-ale, though a punk pay for't. And shall this parrot instruct me?