A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX - Various
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ALL. Amen.
JUS. I con you thanks; but, Sir Aminadab,
Is that your scholar! now, I promise you,
He is a toward stripling of his age.
PIP. Who? I, forsooth? yes, indeed, forsooth, I am his scholar. I would
you should well think I have profited under him too; you shall hear, if
he will pose me.
O. ART. I pray you, let's hear him.
AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin.
PIP. _Adsum_.
AMIN. _Quot casus sunt_? how many cases are there?
PIP. Marry, a great many.
AMIN. Well-answer'd, a great many: there are six,
Six, a great many; 'tis well-answer'd;
And which be they?
PIP. A bow-case, a cap-case, a comb-case, a lute-case, a fiddle-case,
and a candle-case.
JUS. I know them all; again, well-answer'd:
Pray God, my youngest son profit no worse.
AMIN. How many parsons are there?
PIP. I'll tell you as many as I know, if you'll give me leave to reckon
them.
ANS. I prythee, do.
PIP. The parson of Fenchurch, the parson of Pancras, and the parson
of------
Y. ART. Well, sir, about your business:--now will I
Temper the cup my loathed wife shall drink
[_Aside, and exit_.
O. ART. Daughter, methinks you are exceeding sad.
O. LUS. Faith, daughter, so thou art exceeding sad.
MRS ART. 'Tis but my countenance, for my heart is merry:
Mistress, were you as merry as you are welcome,
You should not sit so sadly as you do.
MRS MA. 'Tis but because I am seated in your place,
Which is frequented seldom with true mirth.
MRS ART. The fault is neither in the place nor me.
AMIN. How say you, lady?
To him you last did lie by!
All this is no more, _praebibo tibi_.
MRS MA. I thank you, sir. Mistress, this draught shall be
To him that loves both you and me!
MRS ART. I know your meaning.
ANS. Now to me,
If she have either love or charity.
MRS ART. Here, Master Justice, this to your grave years,
A mournful draught, God wot: half-wine, half-tears. [_Aside_.
JUS. Let come, my wench; here, youngsters, to you all!
You are silent: here's that will make you talk.
Wenches, methink you sit like puritans:
Never a jest abroad to make them laugh?
FUL. Sir, since you move speech of a puritan,
If you will give me audience, I will tell ye
As good a jest as ever you did hear.
O. ART. A jest? that's excellent!
JUS. Beforehand, let's prepare ourselves to laugh;
A jest is nothing, if it be not grac'd.
Now, now, I pray you, when begins this jest?
FUL. I came unto a puritan, to woo her,
And roughly did salute her with a kiss:
Away! quoth she, and rudely push'd me from her;
Brother, by yea and nay, I like not this:
And still with amorous talk she was saluted,
My artless speech with Scripture was confuted.
O. LUS. Good, good, indeed; the best that e'er I heard.
O. ART. I promise you, it was exceeding good.
FUL. Oft I frequented her abode by night,
And courted her, and spake her wond'rous fair;
But ever somewhat did offend her sight,
Either my double ruff or my long hair;
My scarf was vain, my garments hung too low,
My Spanish shoe was cut too broad at toe.
ALL. Ha, ha! the best that ever I heard!
FUL. I parted for that time, and came again,
Seeming to be conform'd in look and speech;
My shoes were sharp-toed, and my band was plain,
Close to my thigh my metamorphos'd breech;
My cloak was narrow-cap'd, my hair cut shorter;
Off went my scarf, thus march'd I to the porter.
ALL. Ha, ha! was ever heard the like?
FUL. The porter, spying me, did lead me in,
Where his fair mistress sat reading of a chapter;
Peace to this house, quoth I, and those within,
Which holy speech with admiration wrapp'd her;
And ever as I spake, and came her nigh,
Seeming divine, turn'd up the white of eye.
JUS. So, so, what then?
O. LUS. Forward, I pray, forward, sir.
FUL. I spake divinely, and I call'd her sister,
And by this means we were acquainted well:
By yea and nay, I will, quoth I, and kiss'd her.
She blush'd, and said, that long-tongu'd men would tell;
I swore[18] to be as secret as the night,
And said, on sooth, I would put out the light.
O. ART. In sooth he would! a passing-passing jest.
FUL. O, do not swear, quoth she, yet put it out,
Because I would not have you break your oath.
I felt a bed there, as I grop'd about;
In troth, quoth I, here will we rest us both.
Swear you, in troth, quoth she? had you not sworn,
I had not done't, but took it in full scorn:
Then you will come, quoth I? though I be loth,
I'll come, quoth she, be't but to keep your oath.
JUS. 'Tis very pretty; but now, when's the jest?
O. ART. O, forward, to the jest in any case.
O. LUS. I would not, for an angel, lose the jest.
FUL. Here's right the dunghill cock that finds a pearl.
To talk of wit to these, is as a man
Should cast out jewels to a herd of swine--[_aside_.]
Why, in the last words did consist the jest.
O. LUS. Ay, in the last words? ha, ha, ha!
It was an excellent admired jest--
To them that understood it.
_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _with two cups of wine_.
JUS. It was, indeed; I must, for fashion's sake,
Say as they say; but otherwise, O, God! [_Aside_.
Good Master Arthur, thanks for our good cheer.
Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; now hear me speak--
One special cause that mov'd me lead you hither,
Is for an ancient grudge that hath long since
Continued 'twixt my modest wife and me:
The wrongs that I have done her I recant.
In either hand I hold a sev'ral cup,
This in the right hand, wife, I drink to thee,
This in the left hand, pledge me in this draught,
Burying all former hatred; so, have to thee. [_He drinks_.
MRS ART. The welcom'st pledge that yet I ever took:
Were this wine poison, or did taste like gall,
The honey-sweet condition of your draught
Would make it drink like nectar: I will pledge you,
Were it the last that I should ever drink.
Y. ART. Make that account: thus, gentlemen, you see
Our late discord brought to a unity.
AMIN. _Ecce, quam bonum et quam jucundum
Est habitare fratres in unum_.
O. ART. My heart doth taste the sweetness of your pledge,
And I am glad to see this sweet accord.
O. LUS. Glad, quotha? there's not one among'st us,
But may be exceeding glad.
JUS. I am, ay, marry, am I, that I am.
Y. LUS. The best accord that could betide their loves.
ANS. The worst accord that could betide my love.
[_All about to rise_.
AMIN: What, rising, gentles? keep your place,
I will close up your stomachs with a grace;
_O Domine et care Pater_,
That giv'st us wine instead of water;
And from the pond and river clear
Mak'st nappy ale and good March beer;
That send'st us sundry sorts of meat,
And everything we drink or eat;
To maids, to wives, to boys, to men,
_Laus Deo Sancto_, Amen.
Y. ART. So, much good do ye all, and, gentlemen,
Accept your welcomes better than your cheer.
O. LUS. Nay, so we do, I'll give you thanks for all.
Come, Master Justice, you do walk our way,
And Master Arthur, and old Hugh your man;
We'll be the first [that] will strain courtesy.
JUS. God be with you all!
[_Exeunt_ O. ART., O. LUS., _and_ JUS. REASON.
AMIN. _Proximus ego sum_, I'll be the next,
And man you home; how say you, lady?
Y. ART. I pray you do, good Sir Aminadab.
MRS MA. Sir, if it be not too much trouble to you,
Let me entreat that kindness at your hands.
AMIN. Entreat! fie! no, sweet lass, command;
_Sic_, so, _nunc_, now, take the upper hand.
[_Exit_ MRS MARY _escorted by_ AMINADAB.
Y. ART. Come, wife, this meeting was all for our sakes:
I long to see the force my poison takes. [_Aside_.
MRS ART. My dear-dear husband, in exchange of hate,
My love and heart shall on your service wait.
[_Exeunt_ Y. ART., MRS ART., _and_ PIPKIN.
ANS. So doth my love on thee; but long no more;
To her rich love thy service is too poor.
FUL. For shame, no more! you had best expostulate
Your love with every stranger; leave these sighs,
And change them to familiar conference.
Y. LUS. Trust me, the virtues of young Arthur's wife,
Her constancy, modest humility,
Her patience, and admired temperance,
Have made me love all womankind the better.
_Re-enter_ PIPKIN.
PIP. O, my mistress! my mistress! she's dead!
She's gone! she's dead! she's gone!
ANS. What's that he says?
PIP. Out of my way! stand back, I say!
All joy from earth has fled!
She is this day as cold as clay;
My mistress she is dead!
O Lord, my mistress! my mistress! [_Exit_.
ANS. What, Mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanish'd,
And the world's wonder from the world quite banish'd.
O, I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse;
I am quite struck through with this late discourse.
FUL. What! faint'st thou, man? I'll lead thee hence; for shame!
Swoon at the tidings of a woman's death!
Intolerable, and beyond all thought!
Come, my love's fool, give me thy hand to lead;
This day one body and two hearts are dead.
[_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER.
Y. LUS. But now she was as well as well might be,
And on the sudden dead; joy in excess
Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul.
I'll after, and see how Master Arthur takes it;
His former hate far more suspicious makes it.
[_Exit_.
_Enter_ HUGH, _and after him_, PIPKIN.
HUGH. My master hath left his gloves behind where he sat in his chair,
and hath sent me to fetch them; it is such an old snudge, he'll not
lose the droppings of his nose.
PIP. O mistress! O Hugh! O Hugh! O mistress!
Hugh, I must needs beat thee; I am mad!
I am lunatic! I must fall upon thee: my mistress is dead!
[_Beats_ HUGH.
HUGH. O Master Pipkin, what do you mean? what do you mean,
Master Pipkin?
PIP. O Hugh! O mistress! O mistress! O Hugh!
HUGH. O Pipkin! O God! O God! O Pipkin!
Pip. O Hugh, I am mad! bear with me, I cannot choose: O death!
O mistress! O mistress! O death! [_Exit_.
HUGH. Death, quotha? he hath almost made me dead with beating.
_Re-enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR,
_and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM.
JUS. I wonder why the knave, my man, stays thus,
And comes not back: see where the villain loiters.
_Re-enter_ PIPKIN.
PIP. O Master Justice! Master Arthur! Master Lusam! wonder not why I
thus blow and bluster; my mistress is dead! dead is my mistress! and
therefore hang yourselves. O, my mistress, my mistress!
[_Exit_.
O. ART. My son's wife dead!
O. LUS. My daughter!
_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _mourning_.
JUS. Mistress Arthur! Here comes her husband.
Y. ART. O, here the woful'st husband comes alive,
No husband now; the wight, that did uphold
That name of husband, is now quite o'erthrown,
And I am left a hapless widower.
O. ART. Fain would I speak, if grief would suffer me.
O. LUS. As Master Arthur says, so say I;
If grief would let me, I would weeping die.
To be thus hapless in my aged years!
O, I would speak; but my words melt to tears.
Y. ART. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest corpse
That e'er was laid upon a mournful room;
You cannot speak for weeping sorrow's doom:
Bad news are rife, good tidings seldom come.
[_Exeunt_.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
_A Street_.
_Enter_ ANSELM.
ANS. What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense,
Striving to breed destruction in my spirit?
When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love
Appears unto me in an angel's shape:
When I'm awake, my fantasy presents,
As in a glass, the shadow of my love:
When I would speak, her name intrudes itself
Into the perfect echoes of my speech:
And though my thought beget some other word,
Yet will my tongue speak nothing but her name.
If I do meditate, it is on her;
If dream of her, or if discourse of her,
I think her ghost doth haunt me, as in times
Of former darkness old wives' tales report.
_Enter_ FULLER.
Here comes my better genius, whose advice
Directs me still in all my actions.
How now, from whence come you?
FUL. Faith, from the street, in which, as I pass'd by,
I met the modest Mistress Arthur's corpse,
And after her as mourners, first her husband,
Next Justice Reason, then old Master Arthur,
Old Master Lusam, and young Lusam too,
With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends,
And others, that lament her funeral:
Her body is by this laid in the vault.
ANS. And in that vault my body I will lay!
I prythee, leave me: thither is my way.
FUL. I am sure you jest, you mean not as you say.
ANS. No, no, I'll but go to the church, and pray.
FUL. Nay, then we shall be troubled with your humour.
ANS. As ever thou didst love me, or as ever
Thou didst delight in my society,
By all the rights of friendship and of love,
Let me entreat thy absence but one hour,
And at the hour's end I will come to thee.
FUL. Nay, if you will be foolish, and past reason,
I'll wash my hands, like Pilate, from thy folly,
And suffer thee in these extremities. [_Exit_.
ANS. Now it is night, and the bright lamps of heaven
Are half-burn'd out: now bright Adelbora
Welcomes the cheerful day-star to the east,
And harmless stillness hath possess'd the world:
This is the church,--this hollow is the vault,
Where the dead body of my saint remains,
And this the coffin that enshrines her body,
For her bright soul is now in paradise.
My coming is with no intent of sin,
Or to defile the body of the dead;
But rather take my last farewell of her,
Or languishing and dying by her side,
My airy soul post after hers to heaven.
[_Comes to_ MRS ARTHUR'S _tomb_.
First, with this latest kiss I seal my love:
Her lips are warm, and I am much deceiv'd,
If that she stir not. O, this Golgotha,
This place of dead men's bones is terrible,
Presenting fearful apparitions!
It is some spirit that in the coffin lies,
And makes my hair start up on end with fear!
Come to thyself, faint heart--she sits upright!
O, I would hide me, but I know not where.
Tush, if it be a spirit, 'tis a good spirit;
For with her body living ill she knew not;
And with her body dead ill cannot meddle.
MRS ART. Who am I? Or where am I?
ANS. O, she speaks,
And by her language now I know she lives.
MRS ART. O, who can tell me where I am become?
For in this darkness I have lost myself;
I am not dead, for I have sense and life:
How come I then in this coffin buried?
ANS. Anselm, be bold; she lives, and destiny
Hath train'd thee hither to redeem her life.
MRS ART. Lives any 'mongst these dead? none but myself?
ANS. O yes, a man, whose heart till now was dead,
Lives and survives at your return to life:
Nay, start not; I am Anselm, one who long
Hath doted on your fair perfection,
And, loving you more than became me well,
Was hither sent by some strange providence,
To bring you from these hollow vaults below,
To be a liver in the world again.
MRS ART. I understand you, and I thank the heavens,
That sent you to revive me from this fear,
And I embrace my safety with good-will.
_Enter_ AMINADAB _with two or three_ BOYS.
AMIN. _Mane citus lectum fuge, mollem discute somnum,
Templa petas supplex, et venerate deum_.
Shake off thy sleep, get up betimes,
Go to the church and pray,
And, never fear, God will thee hear,
And keep thee all the day.
Good counsel, boys; observe it, mark it well;
This early rising, this _diluculo_
Is good both for your bodies and your minds:
'Tis not yet day; give me my tinder-box;
Meantime, unloose your satchels and your books:
Draw, draw, and take you to your lessons, boys.
1ST BOY. O Lord, master, what's that in the white sheet?
AMIN. In the white sheet, my boy? _Dic ubi_, where?
1ST BOY. _Vide_, master, _vide illic_, there.
AMIN. O, _Domine, Domine_, keep us from evil,
A charm from flesh, the world, and the devil!
[_Exeunt_.
MRS ART. O, tell me not my husband was ingrate,
Or that he did attempt to poison me,
Or that he laid me here, and I was dead;
These are no means at all to win my love.
ANS. Sweet mistress, he bequeath'd you to the earth;
You promis'd him to be his wife till death,
And you have kept your promise: but now, since
The world, your husband, and your friends suppose
That you are dead, grant me but one request,
And I will swear never to solicit more
Your sacred thoughts to my dishonest love.
MRS ART. So your demand may be no prejudice
To my chaste name, no wrong unto my husband,
No suit that may concern my wedlock's breach,
I yield unto it; but
To pass the bounds of modesty and chastity,
Sooner[19] will I bequeath myself again
Unto this grave, and never part from hence,
Than taint my soul with black impurity.
ANS. Take here my hand and faithful heart to gage.
That I will never tempt you more to sin:
This my request is--since your husband dotes
Upon a lewd, lascivious courtesan--
Since he hath broke the bonds of your chaste bed,
And, like a murd'rer, sent you to your grave,
Do but go with me to my mother's house;
There shall you live in secret for a space,
Only to see the end of such lewd lust,
And know the difference of a chaste wife's bed,
And one whose life is in all looseness led.
MRS ART. Your mother is a virtuous matron held:
Her counsel, conference, and company
May much avail me; there a space I'll stay,
Upon condition, as you said before,
You never will move your unchaste suit more.
ANS. My faith is pawn'd. O, never had chaste wife
A husband of so lewd and unchaste life!
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE II.
_A Room in Mistress Mary's House_.
_Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO.
BRA. Mistress, I long have serv'd you, even since
These bristled hairs upon my grave-like chin
Were all unborn; when I first came to you,
These infant feathers of these ravens' wings
Were not once begun.
MRS SPLAY. No, indeed, they were not.
BRA. Now in my two moustachios for a need,
(Wanting a rope) I well could hang myself;
I prythee, mistress, for all my long service,
For all the love that I have borne thee long,
Do me this favour now, to marry me.
_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR.
MRS MA. Marry, come up, you blockhead! you great ass!
What! wouldst thou have me marry with a devil!
But peace, no more; here comes the silly fool,
That we so long have set our lime-twigs for;
Begone, and leave me to entangle him.
[_Exeunt_ MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO.
Y. ART. What, Mistress Mary?
MRS MA. O good Master Arthur,
Where have you been this week, this month, this year?
This year, said I? where have you been this age?
Unto a lover ev'ry minute seems
Time out of mind:
How should I think you love me,
That can endure to stay so long from me?
Y. ART. I' faith, sweetheart, I saw thee yesternight.
MRS MA. Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not;
At twelve o'clock you parted from my house,
And now 'tis morning, and new-strucken seven;
Seven hours thou stay'd'st from me; why didst thou so?
They are my seven years' 'prenticeship of woe.
Y. ART. I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion
That did enforce me from thee yesternight.
MRS MA. Ay, you are soon enforc'd; fool that I am,
To dote on one that nought respecteth me!
'Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it,
And ev'ry one shall have their destiny.
Y. ART. Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound'st me with thy tears.
MRS MA. I am a fool, and so you make me too;
These tears were better kept than spent in waste
On one that neither tenders them nor me.
What remedy? but if I chance to die,
Or to miscarry with that I go withal,
I'll take my death that thou art cause thereof;
You told me that, when your wife was dead,
You would forsake all others, and take me.
Y. ART. I told thee so, and I will keep my word,
And for that end I came thus early to thee;
I have procur'd a licence, and this night
We will be married in a lawless[20] church.
MRS. MA. These news revive me, and do somewhat ease
The thought that was new-gotten to my heart.
But shall it be to-night?
Y. ART. Ay, wench, to-night.
A se'nnight and odd days, since my wife died,
Is past already, and her timeless death
Is but a nine-days' talk; come, go with me,
And it shall be despatched presently.
MRS. MA. Nay, then, I see thou lov'st me; and I find
By this last motion thou art grown more kind.
Y. ART. My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow,
And with the time increase; and thou shalt see
The older I grow, the kinder I will be.
MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine,
That with my age shall day by day decline. [_Aside_.
Come, shall we go?
Y. ART. With thee to the world's end,
Whose beauty most admire, and all commend.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE III.
_The Street near the House of Anselm's Mother_.
_Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER.
ANS. 'Tis true, as I relate the circumstance,
And she is with my mother safe at home;
But yet, for all the hate I can allege
Against her husband, nor for all the love
That on my own part I can urge her to,
Will she be won to gratify my love.
FUL. All things are full of ambiguity,
And I admire this wond'rous accident.
But, Anselm, Arthur's about a new wife, _a bona roba_;
How will she take it when she hears this news?
ANS. I think, even as a virtuous maiden should;
It may be that report may, from thy mouth,
Beget some pity from her flinty heart,
And I will urge her with it presently.
FUL. Unless report be false, they are link'd already;
They are fast as words can tie them: I will tell thee
How I, by chance, did meet him the last night:--
One said to me this Arthur did intend
To have a wife, and presently to marry.
Amidst the street, I met him as my friend,
And to his love a present he did carry;
It was some ring, some stomacher, or toy;
I spake to him, and bad God give him joy.
God give me joy, quoth he; of what, I pray?
Marry, quoth I, your wedding that is toward.
'Tis false, quoth he, and would have gone his way.
Come, come, quoth I, so near it and so froward:
I urg'd him hard by our familiar loves,
Pray'd him withal not to forget my gloves.
Then he began:--Your kindness hath been great,
Your courtesy great, and your love not common;
Yet so much favour pray let me entreat,
To be excus'd from marrying any woman.
I knew the wench that is become his bride,
And smil'd to think how deeply he had lied;
For first he swore he did not court a maid;
A wife he could not, she was elsewhere tied;
And as for such as widows were, he said,
And deeply swore none such should be his bride:
Widow, nor wife, nor maid--I ask'd no more,
Knowing he was betroth'd unto a whore.
ANS. Is it not Mistress Mary that you mean?
She that did dine with us at Arthur's house?
_Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR.
FUL. The same, the same:--here comes the gentlewoman;
O Mistress Arthur, I am of your counsel:
Welcome from death to life!
ANS. Mistress, this gentleman hath news to tell ye,
And as you like of it, so think of me.
FUL. Your husband hath already got a wife;
A huffing wench, i' faith, whose ruffling silks
Make with their motion music unto love,
And you are quite forgotten.
ANS. I have sworn
To move this my unchaste demand no more. [_Aside_.]
FUL. When doth your colour change? When do your eyes
Sparkle with fire to revenge these wrongs?
When doth your tongue break into rage and wrath,
Against that scum of manhood, your vile husband?'
He first misus'd you.
ANS. And yet can you love him?
FUL. He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed
Of sacred marriage with a courtesan.
ANS. Yet can you love him?
FUL. And, not content with this,
Abus'd your honest name with sland'rous words,
And fill'd your hush'd house with unquietness.
ANS. And can you love him yet?
FUL. Nay, did he not
With his rude fingers dash you on the face,
And double-dye your coral lips with blood?
Hath he not torn those gold wires from your head,
Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp,
And kept them to play music to the gods?
Hath he not beat you, and with his rude fists
Upon that crimson temperature of your cheeks
Laid a lead colour with his boist'rous blows?
ANS. And can you love him yet?
FUL. Then did he not,
Either by poison or some other plot,
Send you to death where, by his providence,
God hath preserved you by that wond'rous miracle?
Nay, after death, hath he not scandalis'd
Your place with an immodest courtesan?
ANS. And can you love him yet?
MRS ART. And yet, and yet,
And still, and ever whilst I breathe this air:
Nay, after death, my unsubstantial soul,
Like a good angel, shall attend on him,
And keep him from all harm.
But is he married? much good do his heart!
Pray God, she may content him better far
Than I have done; long may they live in peace,
Till I disturb their solace; but because
I fear some mischief doth hang o'er his head,
I'll weep my eyes dry with my present care,
And for their healths make hoarse my tongue with prayer.
[_Exit_.
FUL. Art sure she is a woman? if she be,
She is create of nature's purity.
ANS. O yes, I too well know she is a woman;
Henceforth my virtue shall my love withstand,
And of my striving thoughts get th'upper hand.
FUL. Then, thus resolv'd, I straight will drink to thee
A health thus deep, to drown thy melancholy.