A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX - Various
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SIS. Sir, I will show you all the wealth I have
Of coin, of jewels, and possessions.
ILF. Good gentle heart, I'll give thee another buss for that: for that,
give thee a new gown to-morrow morning by this hand; do thou but dream
what stuff and what fashion thou wilt have it on to-night.
SIS. The land I can endow you with's my Love:
The riches I possess for you is Love,
A treasure greater than is land or gold,
It cannot be forfeit, and it shall ne'er be sold.
ILF. Love, I know that; and I'll answer thee love for love in abundance:
but come, prythee, come, let's see these deeds and evidences--this
money, plate, and jewels. Wilt have thy child born without a nose? if
thou be'st so careless, spare not: why, my little frappet, you, I heard
thy uncles talk of thy riches, that thou hadst hundreds a year, several
lordships, manors, houses, thousands of pounds in your great chest;
jewels, plate, and rings in your little box.
SIS. And for that riches you did marry me?
ILF. Troth, I did, as nowadays bachelors do: swear I lov'd thee, but
indeed married thee for thy wealth.
SIS. Sir, I beseech you say not your oaths were such,
So like false coin being put unto the touch;
Who bear a flourish in the outward show
Of a true stamp, but truly[416] are not so.
You swore me love, I gave the like to you:
Then as a ship, being wedded to the sea,
Does either sail or sink, even so must I,
You being the haven, to which my hopes must fly.
ILF. True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too,
And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure
As thou to me the merchant-venturer.
SIS. What riches I am ballast with are yours.
ILF. That's kindly said now.
SIS. If but with sand, as I am but with earth,
Being your right, of right you must receive me:
I have no other lading but my love,
Which in abundance I will render you.
If other freight you do expect my store,
I'll pay you tears: my riches are no more.
ILF. How's this? how's this? I hope you do but jest.
SIS. I am sister to decayed Scarborow.
ILF. Ha!
SIS. Whose substance your enticements did consume.
ILF. Worse than an ague.
SIS. Which as you did believe, so they supposed.
'Twas fitter for yourself than for another
To keep the sister, had undone the brother.
ILF. I am gulled, by this hand. An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where
the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a
plague on them, and I know not what! Do you hear, puppet, do you think
you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and
compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with
you? I have made a fair match, i'faith: will any man buy my commodity
out of my hand? As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she
cost me.
_Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY.
WEN. O, have we met you, sir?
BAR. What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends
acquainted with it?
ILF. A pox on her, I would you had her!
WEN. Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now 'tis
done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand.
BAR. As that you have two thousand pounds a year.
WEN. Two or three manor-houses.
BAR. A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous.
ILF. Pretty, i'faith, very pretty.
WEN. Store of gold.
BAR. Plate in abundance.
ILF. Better, better, better.
WEN. And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the
cuckolds in your country.
ILF. Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad: I could be
made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this.
WEN. Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your
ancient acquaintance. Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of
the match for you.
ILF. A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me
no more. That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that
wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has
brought, bear witness how I'll reward her. [_Kicks her_.
SIS. Sir!
ILF. Whore, ay, and jade. Witch! Ill-faced, stinking-breath,
crooked-nose, worse than the devil--and a plague on thee that ever
I saw thee!
BAR. A comedy, a comedy!
WEN. What's the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy
marriage!
ILF. O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married! I,
that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all
she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one
that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched! Who do you think this
is, gentlemen?
WEN. Why, your wife; who should it be else?
ILF. That's my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich,
she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow.
BAR. How?
WEN. Ha, ha, ha!
ILF. Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't.
BAR. Nay, do not weep.
WEN. He does but counterfeit now to delude us. He has all her portion
of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should
borrow some money of him.
ILF. And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the
priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to
carry me away from her.
BAR. But art thou thus gulled, i'faith?
ILF. Are you sure you have eyes in your head?
WEN. Why, then, [it is] by her brother's setting on, in my conscience;
who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy
father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions,
hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her
himself.
ILF. Nay, that's without question; but I'll be revenged of 'em both.
For you, minx:--nay, 'sfoot, give 'em me, or I'll kick else.
SIS. Good, sweet.
ILF. Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels: nay,
bracelets too.
SIS. O me most miserable!
ILF. Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors: for now what's within
this house is mine; and for your brother,
He made this match in hope to do you good,
And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood.
WEN. A brave resolution.
BAR. In which we'll second thee.
[_Exit with_ WENTLOE.
ILF. Away, whore! out of my doors, whore!
[_Exit_.
SIS. O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear
Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear.
_Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW _with_ BUTLER.
THOM. How now, sister?
SIS. Undone, undone!
BUT. Why, mistress, how is't? how is't?
SIS. My husband has forsook me.
BUT. O perjury!
SIS. Has ta'en my jewels and my bracelets from me.
THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em.
SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors.
THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more.
But for his wrong revenge me on my brother,
Degenerate, and was the curse of all,
He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall.
JOHN. O, but, brother--
THOM. Persuade me not.
All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on,
The comfort we did look from him is frustrate,
All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone;
And all shall end by his destruction. [_Exit_.
JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen:
His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill,
If that one brother should another kill. [_Exit_.
BUT. And what will you do, mistress?
SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words,
And wound myself with grief as they with swords.
And for the sustenance that I should eat,
I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat.
BUT. Good heart, I pity you,
You shall not be so cruel to yourself,
I have the poor serving-man's allowance:
Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance;
One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast,
To give your wants relief. And, mistress,
Be this some comfort to your miseries,
I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW.
SCAR. What is a prodigal? Faith, like a brush,
That wears himself to furbish[418] others' clothes,
And, having worn his heart even to the stump,
He's thrown away like a deformed lump.
O, such am I: I have spent all the wealth
My ancestors did purchase, made others brave
In shape and riches, and myself a knave.
For though my wealth rais'd some to paint their door,
'Tis shut against me saying I am but poor:
Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath grac'd
My presence to the eye of majesty, shrinks back,
His fingers clutch, and like to lead,
They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead.
By which I find spendthrifts (and such am I)
Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within,
And they (like snakes) know when to cast their skin.
_Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW.
THOM. Turn, draw, and die; I come to kill thee.
SCAR. What's he that speaks like sickness? O, is't you?
Sleep still, you cannot move me: fare you well.
THOM. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood
Can cool itself to temper by refusal:
Turn, or thou diest.
SCAR. Away.
THOM. I do not wish to kill thee like a slave,
That taps men in their cups, and broach[es] their hearts,
Ere with a warning-piece they have wak'd their ears;
I would not like to powder shoot thee down
To a flat grave, ere thou hast thought to frown:
I am no coward, but in manly terms
And fairest oppositions vow to kill thee.
SCAR. From whence proceeds this heat?
THOM. From sparkles bred
By thee, that like a villain--
SCAR. Ha!
THOM. I'll hollow it
In thine ears, till thy soul quake to hear it,
That like a villain hast undone thy brothers.
SCAR. Would thou wert not so near me! yet, farewell.
THOM. By Nature and her laws make[419] us akin--
As near as are these hands, or sin to sin--
Draw and defend thyself, or I'll forget
Thou art a man.
SCAR. Would thou wert not my brother!
THOM. I disclaim thee[420].
SCAR. Are we not offspring of one parent, wretch?
THOM. I do forget it; pardon me the dead,
I should deny the pains you bid for me.
My blood grows hot for vengeance, thou hast spent
My life's revenues, that our parents purchas'd.
SCAR. O, do not rack me with remembrance on't.
THOM. Thou hast made my life a beggar in this world,
And I will make thee bankrupt of thy breath:
Thou hast been so bad, the best that I can give[421].
Thou art a devil: not with men to live.
SCAR. Then take a devil's payment
_Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's
back come in_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY.
ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen.
WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow.
SCAR. Girt round with death!
THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards,
three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You
shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal.
[_Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return_.
SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been
A patron of my life. Forget the sin,
I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours
Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em,
And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes,
Though with indifferent ruin of mine own.
I have a many sins, the thought of which
Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul,
But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point.
If penitence your losses might repair,
You should be rich in wealth, and I in care.
THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you,
Evils the which are 'gainst another done,
Repentance makes no satisfaction
To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir,
Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it,
And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house--
A drunken tavern--spill'd my maintenance,
Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;)
Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly
And pick up any food, lest I should die.
SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together.
THOM. At peace for what? For spending my inheritance?
By yonder sun that every soul has life by,
As sure as thou hast life, I'll fight with thee.
SCAR. I'll not be mov'd unto't.
THOM. I'll kill thee then, wert thou now clasp'd
Within thy mother, wife, or children's arms.
SCAR. Would'st, homicide? art so degenerate?
Then let my blood grow hot.
THOM. For it shall cool.
SCAR. To kill rather than be kill'd is manhood's rule.
_Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW.
JOHN. Stay, let not your wraths meet.
THOM. Heart! what mak'st thou here?
JOHN. Say, who are you, or you? are you not one,
That scarce can make a fit distinction
Betwixt each other? Are you not brothers?
THOM. I renounce him.
SCAR. Shalt not need.
THOM. Give way.
SCAR. Have at thee!
JOHN. Who stirs? which of you both hath strength within his arm
To wound his own breast? who's so desperate
To damn himself by killing of himself?
Are you not both one flesh?
THOM. Heart! give me way.
SCAR. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword
I'll[423] mete thy grave out.
JOHN. O, do: for God's sake, do;
'Tis happy death, if I may die, and you
Not murder one another. O, do but hearken:
When do the sun and moon, born in one frame,
Contend, but they breed earthquakes in men's hearts?
When any star prodigiously appears,
Tells it not fall of kings or fatal years?
And then, if brothers fight, what may men think?
Sin grows so high, 'tis time the world should sink.
SCAR. My heart grows cool again; I wish it not.
THOM. Stop not my fury, or by my life I swear.
I will reveal the robbery we have done,
And take revenge on thee,
That hinders me to take revenge on him.
JOHN. I yield to that; but ne'er consent to this,
I shall then die, as mine own sin affords,
Fall by the law, not by my brothers' swords.
THOM. Then, by that light that guides me here, I vow,
I'll straight to Sir John Harcop, and make known
We were the two that robb'd him.
JOHN. Prythee, do.
THOM. Sin has his shame, and thou shalt have thy due.
[_Exit_.
JOHN. Thus have I shown the nature of a brother,
Though you have proved unnatural to me.
He's gone in heat to publish out the theft,
Which want and your unkindness forc'd us to:
If now I die, that death and public shame
Is a corsive to your soul, blot to your name.
[_Exit_.
SCAR. O, 'tis too true, there's not a thought I think,
But must partake thy grief, and drink
A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune.
With weight of others' tears I am o'erborne,
That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own,
And all too good for me. A happy creature
In my cradle, and I have made myself
The common curse of mankind by my life;
Undone my brothers, made them thieves for bread,
And begot pretty children to live beggars.
O conscience, how thou art stung to think upon't!
My brothers unto shame must yield their blood:
My babes at others' stirrups beg their food,
Or else turn thieves too, and be chok'd for it,
Die a dog's death, be perch'd upon a tree;
Hang'd betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither.
The curse of heaven that's due to reprobates
Descends upon my brothers and my children,
And I am parent to it--ay, I am parent to it.
_Enter_ BUTLER.
BUT. Where are you, sir?
SCAR. Why star'st thou, what's thy haste?
BUT. Here's fellows swarm like flies to speak with you.
SCAR. What are they?
BUT. Snakes, I think, sir; for they come with stings in their mouths,
and their tongues are turn'd to teeth too: they claw villainously, they
have ate up your honest name and honourable reputation by railing
against you: and now they come to devour your possessions.
SCAR. In plainer evargy,[424] what are they? speak.
BUT. Mantichoras,[425] monstrous beasts, enemies to mankind, that have
double rows of teeth in their mouths. They are usurers, they come
yawning for money, and the sheriff with them is come to serve an extent
upon your land, and then seize on your body by force of execution: they
have begirt the house round.
SCAR. So that the roof our ancestors did build
For their sons' comfort, and their wives for charity,
I dare not to look out at.
BUT. Besides, sir, here's your poor children--
SCAR. Poor children they are indeed.
BUT. Come with fire and water, tears in their eyes and burning grief in
their hearts, and desire to speak with you.
SCAR. Heap sorrow upon sorrow! tell me, are
My brothers gone to execution
For what I did? for every heinous sin
Sits on his soul, by whom it did begin.
And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal,
My children carry moisture in their eyes,
Whose speaking drops say, father, thus must we
Ask our relief, or die with infamy,
For you have made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has kill'd me,
To give my passage comfort from this stage,
Say all was done by enforc'd marriage:
My grave will then be welcome.
BUT. What shall we do, sir?
SCAR. Do as the devil does, hate (panther-like) mankind![426]
And yet I lie; for devils sinners love,
When men hate men, though good like some above.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW'S _wife_ KATHERINE, _with two Children_.
BUT. Your wife's come in, sir.
SCAR. Thou li'st, I have not a wife. None can be call'd
True man and wife, but those whom heaven install'd,
Say--
KATH. O my dear husband!
SCAR. You are very welcome. Peace: we'll have compliment.
Who are you, gentlewoman?
KATH. Sir, your distressed wife, and these your children,
SCAR. Mine! Where, how, begot?
Prove me by certain instance that's divine,
That I should call them lawful, or thee mine.
KATH. Were we not married, sir?
SCAR. No; though we heard the words of ceremony,
But had hands knit, as felons that wear fetters
Forc'd upon them. For tell me, woman,
Did e'er my love with sighs entreat thee mine?
Did ever I in willing conference
Speak words, made half with tears, that I did love thee?
Or was I ever but glad to see thee, as all lovers are?
No, no, thou know'st I was not.
KATH. O me!
BUT. The more's the pity.
SCAR. But when I came to church, I did there stand,
As water, whose forc'd breach[427] had drown'd my land.
Are you my wife, or these my children?
Why, 'tis impossible; for like the skies
Without the sun's light, so look all your eyes;
Dark, cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness;
Within my country there was hope to see
Me and my issue to be like our fathers,
Upholders of our country all our life,
Which should have been if I had wed a wife:
Where now,
As dropping leaves in autumn you look all,
And I, that should uphold you, like to fall.
KATH. 'Twas nor shall be my fault, heaven bear me witness.
SCAR. Thou liest, strumpet, thou liest!
BUT. O sir!
SCAR. Peace, saucy Jack! strumpet, I say thou liest,
For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy bastards
Whom I begot of thee with this unrest,
That bastards born are born not to be blest.
KATH. On me pour all your wrath, but not on them.
SCAR. On thee and them, for 'tis the end of lust
To scourge itself, heaven lingering to be just:
Harlot!
KATH. Husband!
SCAR. Bastards!
CHIL. Father!
BUT. What heart not pities this?
SCAR. Even in your cradle, you were accurs'd of heaven,
Thou an adultress in my married arms.
And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust:
Ay, now you hang the head; shouldst have done so before,
Then these had not been bastards, thou a whore.
BUT. I can brook't no longer: sir, you do not well in this.
SCAR. Ha, slave!
BUT. 'Tis not the aim of gentry to bring forth
Such harsh unrelish'd fruit unto their wines[428],
And to their pretty--pretty children by my troth.
SCAR. How, rascal!
BUT. Sir, I must tell you, your progenitors,
Two of the which these years were servant to,
Had not such mists before their understanding,
Thus to behave themselves.
SCAR. And you'll control me, sir!
BUT. Ay, I will.
SCAR. You rogue!
BUT. Ay, 'tis I will tell 'tis ungently done
Thus to defame your wife, abuse your children:
Wrong them, you wrong yourself; are they not yours?
SCAR. Pretty--pretty impudence, in faith.
BUT. Her whom you are bound to love, to rail against!
Those whom you are bound to keep, to spurn like dogs!
And you were not my master, I would tell you--
SCAR. What, slave? [_Draws_.
BUT. Put up your bird-spit, tut, I fear it not;
In doing deeds so base, so vile as these,
'Tis but a kna, kna, kna--
SCAR. Rogue!
BUT. Tut, howsoever, 'tis a dishonest part,
And in defence of these I throw off duty.
KATH. Good butler.
BUT. Peace, honest mistress, I will say you are wrong'd,
Prove it upon him, even in his blood, his bones,
His guts, his maw, his throat, his entrails.
SCAR. You runagate of threescore!
BUT. 'Tis better than a knave of three-and-twenty.
SCAR. Patience be my buckler!
As not to file[429] my hands in villain's blood;
You knave, slave, trencher-groom!
Who is your master?
BUT. You, if you were a master.
SCAR. Off with your coat then, get you forth a-doors.
BUT. My coat, sir?
SCAR. Ay, your coat, slave.
BUT. 'Sfoot, when you ha't, 'tis but a threadbare coat,
And there 'tis for you: know that I scorn
To wear his livery is so worthy born,
And live[s] so base a life; old as I am,
I'll rather be a beggar than your man,
And there's your service for you. [_Exit_.
SCAR. Away, out of my door: away!
So, now your champion's gone, minx, thou hadst better
Have gone quick unto thy grave--
KATH. O me! that am no cause of it.
SCAR. Than have suborn'd that slave to lift his hand against me.
KATH. O me! what shall become of me?
SCAR. I'll teach you tricks for this: have you a companion?
_Enter_ BUTLER.
BUT. My heart not suffers me to leave my honest mistress and her pretty
children.
SCAR. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy bastards--
BUT. What will you do to them, sir?
SCAR. The devil in thy shape come back again?
BUT. No, but an honest servant, sir, will take this coat,
And wear it with this sword to safeguard these,
And pity them, and I am woe for you[430], too;
But will not suffer
The husband, viper-like, to prey on them
That love him and have cherish'd him, as these
And they have you.
SCAR. Slave!
BUT. I will outhumour you, [I will]
Fight with you and lose my life, ere[431] these
Shall taste your wrong, whom you are bound to love.
SCAR. Out of my doors, slave!
BUT. I will not, but will stay and wear this coat,
And do you service whether you will or no.
I'll wear this sword, too, and be champion
To fight for her, in spite of any man.
SCAR. You shall: you shall be my master, sir.
BUT. No, I desire it not,
I'll pay you duty, even upon my knee,
But lose my life, ere these oppress'd I'll see.
SCAR. Yes, goodman slave, you shall be master,
Lie with my wife, and get more bastards; do, do, do.
KATH. O me!
SCAR. Turns the world upside down,
That men o'erbear their masters? it does, it does.
For even as Judas sold his master Christ,
Men buy and sell their wives at highest price,
What will you give me? what will you give me?
What will you give me? [_Exit_.
BUT. O mistress, my soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry,
To see his fall and your adversity;
Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with.
Into your chamber, and if comfort be akin
To such great grief, comfort your children.
KATH. I thank thee, butler; heaven, when he please,
Send death unto the troubled--a blest ease.
[_Exit with children_.
BUT. In troth I know not, if it be good or ill,
That with this endless toil I labour thus:
'Tis but the old time's ancient conscience
That would do no man hurt, that makes me do't:
If it be sin, that I do pity these,
If it be sin, I have relieved his brothers,
Have played the thief with them to get their food,
And made a luckless marriage for his sister,
Intended for her good, heaven pardon me.
But if so, I am sure they are great sinners,
That made this match, and were unhappy[432] men;
For they caus'd all, and may heaven pardon them.
_Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.
SIR WIL. Who's within here?
BUT. Sir William, kindly welcome.
SIR WIL. Where is my kinsman Scarborow?
BUT. Sooth, he's within, sir, but not very well.
SIR WIL. His sickness?
BUT. The hell of sickness; troubled in his mind.
SIR WIL. I guess the cause of it,
But cannot now intend to visit him.
Great business for my sovereign hastes me hence;
Only this letter from his lord and guardian to him,
Whose inside, I do guess, tends to his good;
At my return I'll see him: so farewell. [_Exit_.
BUT. _Whose inside, I do guess, turns to his good_.
He shall not see it now, then; for men's minds,
Perplex'd like his, are like land-troubling-winds,
Who have no gracious temper.
_Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW.
JOHN. O butler!
BUT. What's the fright now?
JOHN. Help, straight, or on the tree of shame
We both shall perish for the robbery.
BUT. What, is't reveal'd, man?
JOHN. Not yet, good butler: only my brother Thomas,
In spleen to me that would not suffer him
To kill our elder brother had undone us,
Is riding now to Sir John Harcop straight,
To disclose it.
BUT. Heart! who would rob with sucklings?
Where did you leave him?
JOHN. Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire.
BUT. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ SCARBOROW.
SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will,
He gives his counsel freely, and the cause
He for his clients pleads goes always with them:
He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him
Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests,
And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433],
The less they give, the more I gain thereby;