A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. VIII (4th edition) - Various
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_Enter_ CASTILIANO.
CAS. I would I had been wiser once to-day;
I went on purpose to my Lord of Kent
To give him some good counsel for his wife,
And he, poor heart, no sooner heard my news,
But turns me up his whites, and falls flat down:
There I was fain to rub and chafe his veins,
And much ado we had to get him live.
But for all that he is extremely sick,
And I am come in all the haste I may
For cordials to keep the earl alive.
But how now? What, a banquet! What means this?
NAN. Alas! my master is come home himself.
Mistress, mistress! my master is come home!
CAS. Peace, you young strumpet, or I'll stop your speech!
[_He stops her mouth_.
Come hither, maid: tell me, and tell me true,
What means this banquet? what's your mistress doing?
Why call'dst[457] thou out, when as thou saw'st me coming?
Tell me, or else I'll hang thee by the heels,
And whip thee naked. Come on, what's the matter?
NAN. Forsooth, I cannot tell.
CAS. Can you not tell? come on, I'll make you tell me.
NAN. O master! I will tell you.
CAS. Then say on.
NAN. Nothing, in truth, forsooth, but that she means
To have a gentleman come drink with her.
CAS. What gentleman?
NAN. Forsooth, 'tis Master Forrest, as I think.
CAS. Forrest? nay then I know how the game goeth:
Whoever loseth, I am sure to win
By their great kindness, though't be but the horns.
_Enter_ FORREST _at one door_, MARIAN _at another_.
But here comes he and she. Come hither, maid:
Upon thy life, give not a word, a look,
That she may know aught of my being here.
Stand still, and do whate'er she bids thee do.
Go, get thee gone; but if thou dost betray me,
I'll cut thy throat: look to it, for I will do it.
I'll stand here close to see the end of this,
And see what rakes she keeps, when I'm abroad.
[CASTILIANO _conceals himself_.]
MAR. 'Tis kindly done, Miles, to return so soon,
And so I take it. Nan, is our banquet ready?
Welcome, my love! I see you'll keep your word.
NAN. 'Twere better for you both he had not kept it. [_Aside_.]
FOR. Yea, Mariana, else I were unworthy.
I did but bring my lady to the door,
And there I left her full of melancholy,
And discontented.
MAR. Why, 'twas kindly done.
Come, come sit down, and let us laugh awhile:
Maid, fill some wine.
NAN. Alas! my breech makes buttons,
And so would theirs, knew they as much as I.
He may change the sweetmeats, and put
Purging comfits in the dishes.
MAR. Here's to my lady and my cousin Musgrave.
FOR. I pray, remember gentle master doctor
And good Earl Lacy too, among the rest.
CAS. O sir, we find you kind--we thank you for it:
The time may come when we may cry you quit. [_Aside_.]
NAN. Master, shall I steal you a cup of wine? [_Aside_
CAS. Away, you baggage! hold your peace, you wretch! [_Aside_.]
FOR. But I had rather walk into your orchard,
And see your gallery so much commended;
To view the workmanship he brought from Spain.
Wherein's describ'd the banquet of the gods.
MAR. Ay, there's one piece exceeding lively done;[458]
Where Mars and Venus lie within a net,
Enclos'd by Vulcan, and he looking on.
CAS. Better and better yet: 'twill mend anon.
MAR. Another of Diana with her nymphs,
Bathing their naked bodies in the streams;
Where fond Acteon, for his eyes' offence,
Is turn'd into a hart's shape, horns and all:
And this the doctor hangs right o'er his bed.
FOR. Those horns may fall and light upon his head.
CAS. And if they do, worse luck. What remedy? [_Aside_.]
FOR. Nay, Marian, we'll not leave these sights unseen;
And then we'll see your orchard and your fruit,
For now there hang queen apples on the trees,
And one of them is[459] worth a score of these.
MAR. Well, you shall see them, lest you lose your longing.
[_Exeunt_ MARIAN _and_ FORREST.
CAS. Nay, if ye fall a longing for green fruit,
Child-bearing is not far off, I am sure.
Why, this is excellent: I feel the buds!
My head groweth hard: my horns will shortly spring!
Now, who may lead the cuckold's dance but I,
That am become the headman of the parish?
O, this it is to have an honest wife,
Of whom so much I boasted once to-day.
Come hither, minx! you know your mistress' mind,
And you keep secret all her villanies:
Tell me, you were best, where was this plot devised?
How did these villains know I was abroad?
NAN. Indeed, forsooth, I know[460] not when it was.
My mistress call'd me from my work of late,
And bad me lay a napkin: so I did,
And made this banquet ready; but in truth
I knew not what she did intend to do.
CAS. No, no, you did not watch against I came,
To give her warning to despatch her knaves!
You cried not out when as you saw me come!
All this is nothing; but I'll trounce you all.
NAN. In truth, good master!
_Enter_ MARIAN, FORREST.
CAS. Peace, stay! they come.
Whimper not; and you do, I'll use you worse.
Behold that wicked strumpet with that knave!
O, that I had a pistol for their sakes,
That at one shot I might despatch them both!
But I must stand close yet, and see the rest.
[_He conceals himself again_.]
MAR. How lik'st thou, Miles, my orchard and my house?
FOR. Well; thou art seated to thy heart's content,
A pleasant orchard and a house well-furnish'd:
There nothing wants; but in the gallery
The painter shows his art exceedingly.
MAR. Yet is there one thing goeth beyond all these:
Contented life, that giveth the heart his ease,
And that I want. [_One knocketh at the door_.
FOR. Sweet love, adieu. [_Exit_ FORREST.
MAR. Farewell, sweetheart. Who is that at the door?
_Enter_ CLINTON.
CLIN. A friend.
MAR. Come near: what, captain, is it you?
CLIN. Even I, fair Marian, watching carefully
The blessed step of opportunity.
MAR. Good, good! how fortune gluts me with excess!
Still they that have enough shall meet with more.
CLIN. But where's the doctor?
MAR. Ministering abroad
Physic to some sick patients he retains.
CLIN. Let him abroad, I'll minister at home
Such physic shall content my Marian.
CAS. O monstrous! now the world must see my shame.
This head must bear whatever likes[461] my dame. [_Aside_.]
MAR. I have no malady requires a cure.
CLIN. Why, then, must I assume a sick man's part
And all my sickness lieth at my heart?
'Tis the heart-burning that torments me so.
MAR. There is no cure for fire but to be quench'd.
CLIN. Thou hast prescrib'd a sovereign remedy.
CAS. O, who the devil made her a physician? [_Aside_.]
CLIN. Let's not obscure what love doth manifest;
Nor let a stranger's bed make thee seem strange
To him that ever lov'd and honour'd thee.
MAR. A captain made a captive by loose love
And gadding fancy! fie, 'twere monstrous shame
That Cupid's bow should blemish Mars's name:
Take up thy arms, recall thy drooping thoughts,
And lead thy troops into the spacious fields.
CAS. She counsels others well, if she would take it. [_Aside_.]
CLIN. Thou counsellest the blind to lead the blind.
Can I lead them that cannot guide myself?
Thou, Marian, must release my captive heart.
MAR. With all my heart I grant thee free release.
CLIN. Thou art obscure too much: but tell me, love,
Shall I obtain my long-desired love?
MAR. Captain, there is yet somewhat in thy mind
Thou wouldst reveal, but wantest utterance.
Thou better knowest to front the braving foe,
Than plead love-suits.
CLIN. I grant 'tis even so;
Extremity of passions still are dumb,
No tongue can tell love's chief perfections:
Persuade thyself my love-sick thoughts are thine;
Thou only may'st those drooping thoughts refine.
MAR. Since at my hands thou seek'st a remedy,
I'll ease thy grief, and cure thy malady.
No drug the doctor hath shall be too dear;
His antidote shall fly to do thee good.
Come in, and let thy eye make choice for thee,
That thou may'st know how dear thou art to me.
[_Exeunt_ CLINTON, MARIAN.
CAS. Is this obedience? now the devil go with them!
And yet I dare not; O, she's mankind grown![462]
O miserable men that must live so,
And damned strumpet,[463] author of this woe!
_Enter_ CLINTON, MARIAN.
But peace! be still! they come. O shameless shame!
Well may the world call thee the devil's dame.
MAR. Captain, thy skill hath pleased me so well,
That I have vow'd my service to Bellona.
CAS. Her service to Bellona! turn'd stark ruffian!
She'll be call'd Cavaliero Marian. [_Aside_.]
CLIN. And I will train thee up in feats of arms,
And teach thee all the orders of the field;
That whilst we, like to Mars and Venus, jest,
The doctor's head may get a gallant crest.
CAS. I can no longer linger my disgrace,
Nor hide my shame from their detested sight.
How now, thou whore, dishonour to my bed!
Disdain to womanhood, shame of thy sex!
Insatiate monster! corrosive of my soul!
What makes this captain revelling in my house?
My house! nay, in my bed! You'll prove a soldier!
Follow Bellona, turn a martialist!
I'll try if thou hast learn'd to ward my blows.
MAR. Why, how now, man! is this your madding month?
What, sir! will you forbid me in good sort
To entertain my friends?
CAS. Your friends, you whore!
They are no friends of mine, nor come they here.
Clinton, avaunt, my house is for no such.
MAR. Alas, good sir! are you grown so suspicious,
Thus on no proofs to nourish jealousy?
I cannot kiss a man but you'll be angry.
In spite of you, or whoso else saith nay,
My friends are welcome, as they come this way:
If you mislike it, mend it as you may.
What, do you think to pin up Marian,
As you were wont to do your Spanish girls?
No, sir, I'll be half mistress of myself;
The other half is yours, if you deserve it.
CLIN. What madness mov'd thee be displeas'd with me,
That always us'd thee with so kind regard?
Did I not at thy first arrival here
Conduct thee to the Earl of London's house?
MAR. Did I not, being unsolicited,
Bestow my first pure maiden love on thee?
CLIN. Did I not grace thee there in all the court,
And bear thee out against the daring abbot?
MAR. Did I not forsake many young gallant courtiers,
Enamoured with thy aged gravity,
Who, now being weary of me, wouldst disgrace me?
CAS. If there be any conscience left on earth,
How can I but believe these protestations?
CLIN. Have I not always been thy nearest friend?
MAR. Have I not always been thy dearest wife?
CLIN. How much will all the world in this condemn thee?
MAR. At first I little fear'd what now I find,
And grieve too late.
CAS. Content thee, gentle dame.
The nature of our countrymen is such,
That, if we see another kiss our wives,
We cannot brook it: but I will be pleas'd;
For, will I, nill I,[464] so methinks I must.
And, gentle captain, be not you offended;
I was too hot at first, but now repent it.
I prythee, gentle dame, forgive me this,
And drown all jealousy in this sweet kiss.
CLIN. This shows your wisdom: on, I'll follow you.
MAR. [_Aside_.] Well, doctor, henceforth never reckon[465] it scorn
At my sweet Clinton's hands to take the horn.
[_Exeunt_.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
_Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW,[466] _in a suit of leather,
close to his body; his face and hands coloured
russet-colour, with a flail_.
ROB. The doctor's self would scarce know Robin now.
Curs'd Marian may go seek another man,
For I intend to dwell no longer with her,
Since that the bastinado drove me thence.
These silken girls are all too fine for me:
My master shall report of those in hell,
Whilst I go range amongst the country-maids,
To see, if homespun lasses milder be
Than my curs'd dame and Lacy's wanton wife.
Thus therefore will I live betwixt two shapes;
When as I list, in this transform'd disguise,
I'll fright the country-people as they pass;
And sometimes turn me to some other form,
And so delude them with fantastic shows.
But woe betide the silly dairymaids,
For I shall fleet their cream-bowls night by night.
And slice the bacon-flitches as they hang.
Well, here in Croydon will I first begin
To frolic it among the country lobs.
This day, they say, is call'd Holyrood-day,
And all the youth are now a-nutting gone.
Here are a crew of younkers in this wood,
Well-sorted, for each lad hath got his lass.
Marry, indeed, there is a tricksy[467] girl,
That three or four would fain be doing with,
But that a wily priest among the rest
Intends to bear her sheer away from all.
The miller, and my brother Grim the collier
Appointed here to scuffle for her love.
I am on Grim's side; for long time ago
The devil call'd the collier like to like:[468]
_Enter_ GRIM, CLACK, PARSON SHORTHOSE, JOAN, _with a bag of nuts_.
But here the miller and the collier come,
With Parson Makebate and their tricksy girl.
GRIM. Parson, persuade me no more. I come,
Jug, to your custody; Jug, hold the nut-bag.
CLACK. Nay, I will give you nuts to crack.
GRIM. Crack in thy throat and hauster[469] too.
SHO. Neighbours, I wish you both agree:
Let me be judge, be rul'd by me.
GRIM. Master Parson, remember what _Pueriles_[470] saith, _Ne accesseris
ad concilio_, &c. I tell you I found this written in the bottom of one
of my empty sacks. Never persuade men that be inexecrable. I have vowed
it, and I will perform it. The quarrel is great, and I have taken it
upon my own shoulders.
CLACK. Ay, that thou shalt, ere I have done; for I will lay it on,
i'faith.
GRIM. If you lay it in, I must bear it out, this is all. If you strike,
I must stand to anything, although it be the biggest blow that you can
lay upon me.
JOAN. Ye both have ofttimes sworn that ye love me;
Let me overrule you in this angry mood.
Neighbours and old acquaintance, and fall out!
ROB. Why, that is, because thou wilt not let them fall in.
GRIM. I say, my heart bleedeth when thou speaketh, and therefore do not
provoke me. Yet, miller, as I am monstrous angry, so I have a wonderful
great mind to be repeas'd. Let's think what harm cometh by this same
fighting; if we should hurt one another, how can we help it? Again,
Clack, do but here forswear Joan's company, and I'll be thine instead
of her, to use in all your businesses from Croydon to London; yours,
Gilbert Grim, the chief collier for the king's majesty's own mouth.
CLACK. O Grim, do I smell you? I'll make you forswear her before we two
part; and therefore come on to this gear. Collier, I will lay on load,
and when it is done, let who will take it off again.
JOAN. Yet once more hear me speak: leave off for shame,
If not for love; and let not others laugh
To see your follies; let me overrule you.
SHO. Ay, let them fight, I care not: I
Meantime away with Joan will fly;
And whilst they two are at it here,
We two will sport ourselves elsewhere.
ROB. There's a stone priest! he loveth a wench, indeed:
He careth not though both of them do bleed;
But Robin Goodfellow will conjure you,
And mar your match, and bang you soundly too.
I like this country-girl's condition well;
She's faithful, and a lover but to one:
Robin stands here to right both Grim and her.
GRIM. Master Parson, look you to my love.
Miller, here I stand
With my heart and my hand
In sweet Jug's right
With thee to fight.
CLACK. Come, let us to it then.
[_They fight_: ROBIN _beateth the miller
with a flail, and felleth him_.
ROB. Now, miller, miller dustipoll
I'll clapper-claw your jobbernole.
SHO. Come, Jug, let's leave these senseless blocks,
Giving each other blows and knocks.
JOAN. I love my Grim too well to leave him so.
SHO. You shall not choose: come, let's away.
[SHORTHOSE _pulleth_ JUG _after him_: ROBIN
_beateth the priest with his flail_.
ROB. Nay then, sir priest, I'll make you stay.
CLACK. Nay, this is nothing, Grim; we'll not part so.
I thought to have borne it off with my back sword ward,
And I receiv'd it upon my bare costard.[471]
[_They fight again_.
ROB. What, miller, are you up again?
Nay, then, my flail shall never lin,[472]
Until I force one of us twain
Betake him to his heels amain.
[ROBIN _beats the miller again_.
CLACK. Hold thy hands, Grim! thou hast murder'd me.
GRIM. Thou liest, it is in mine own offence I do it. Get thee gone then:
I had rather have thy room than thy company.
CLACK. Marry, with all my heart. O, the collier playeth the devil
with me.
ROB. No, it is the devil playeth the collier with thee. [_Aside_.]
SHO. My bones are sore; I prythee, Joan,
Let's quickly from this place be gone.
Nay, come away, I love thee so,
Without thee I will never go.
ROB. What, priest, still at your lechery?
[ROBIN _beats the priest_.
I'll thrash you for your knavery.
If any ask who beat thee so,
Tell them 'twas Robin Goodfellow.
[SHORTHOSE _runneth away_.
GRIM. O miller, art thou gone? I am glad of it. I smelt my own infirmity
every stroke I struck at him. Now, Joan, I dare boldly swear thou art my
own; for I have won thee in the plain field. Now Master Parson shall
even strike it up; two or three words of his mouth will make her gammer
Grim all the days of her life after.
ROB. Here is two well-favoured slaves!
Grim and I may curse all good faces,
And not hurt our own.
JOAN. What, my love, how dost thou?
GRIM. Even as a conqueror may do. Jug, for thy sake I have made the
miller a poor cripple all the days of his life, good for nothing else
but to be carried into the 'spital-house.
ROB. Ay, there is one lie, for thou didst never hurt him. [_Aside_.]
JOAN. I am glad thou 'scapedst, my love, and wast not hurt.
GRIM. Who? I hurt? Joan, thou knowest me not yet: thou mayest do better
hereafter. I gave him five mortal wounds the first five strokes I made
at him.
ROB. There are five lies clapt into one, for brevity's sake. [_Aside_.]
GRIM. And presently, upon the fifth blow, I made a dangerous thrust at
him, and violently overthrew him, horse and foot, and there he lay.
ROB. Nay, there you lie. The collier is excellent
To be companion to the devil himself. [_Aside_.]
GRIM. But where's Master Parson?
JOAN. He was well bang'd, and knew not who 'twas did it,
And would have had me gone away with him.
Here lieth his nut-bag, and the miller's too:
They had no leisure to take them away.
GRIM. The better for us, Joan; there is good cracking work: it will
increase household stuff. Come, let's after the parson; we will comfort
him, and he shall couple us. I'll have Pounceby the painter score upon
our painted cloth[473] at home all the whole story of our going a-nutting
this Holyrood-day; and he shall paint me up triumphing over the miller.
[_Exeunt GRIM and JOAN_.
ROB. So let the collier now go boast at home
How he hath beat the miller from his love.
I like this modest country maid so well,
That I believe I must report in hell
Better of women than my master can.
Well, till my time's expir'd, I'll keep this quarter,
And night by night attend their merry meetings.
[_Exit ROBIN_.
_Enter_ DUNSTAN _with_ EARL LACY _sick_.
DUN. Let not your sickness add more feebleness
Unto your weaken'd age; but give me leave
To cure thy vain suspicious malady.
Thy eyes shall witness how thou art deceiv'd,
Misprizing thy fair lady's chastity:
For whilst we two stand closely here unseen,
We shall espy them presently approach.
LACY. O, show me this, thou blessed man of God,
And thou shalt then make young my withered age.
DUN. Mark the beginning; for here Musgrave cometh.
_Enter_ MUSGRAVE.
MUS. O thrice unhappy and unfortunate,
That, having fit occasion proffer'd thee
Of conference with beauteous Honorea,
Thou overslipp'd it, and o'erslipp'dst thyself.
Never since wedlock tied her to the earl,
Have I saluted her; although report
Is blaz'd abroad of her inconstancy.
This is her evening walk, and here will I
Attend her coming forth, and greet her fairly.
LACY. See, Dunstan, how their youth doth blind our age!
Thou dost deceive thyself and bringest me
To see my proper shame and infamy.
_Enter_ HONOREA.
But here she comes: my hope, my fear, my love.
DUN. Here comes the unstain'd honour of thy bed.
Thy ears shall hear her virtuous, chaste replies,
And make thy heart confess thou dost her wrong.
HON. Now modest love hath banish'd wanton thoughts,
And alter'd me from that I was before,
To that chaste life I ought to entertain.
My heart is tied to that strict form of life,
That I joy only to be Lacy's wife.
LACY. God fill thy mind with these chaste, virtuous thoughts!
MUS. O, now I see her, I am half asham'd
Of so long absence, of neglect of speech.
My dearest lady, patroness of beauty,
Let thy poor servant make his true excuse!
HON. Musgrave, I easily take your excuse,
Accusing my fond self for what is pass'd.
MUS. Long time we wanted opportunity;
But now the forelock of well-wishing time
Hath bless'd us both, that here without suspect
We may renew the tenor of our loves.
LACY. O Dunstan, how she smiles to hear him speak!
HON. No, child of fortune and inconstancy,
Thou shalt not train me, or induce my love
To loose desires or dishonoured thoughts.
'Tis God's own work that struck a deep remorse
Into my tainted heart for my pass'd folly.
MUS. O, thou confound'st me! Speak as thou wert won't,
Like Love herself, my lovely Honorea.
HON. Why, how now, Musgrave! what esteem'st thou me,
That thou provokest me, that first denied me?
I will not yield you reasons why I may not,
More than your own. You told me why you would not.
MUS. By heavens, by thee, my saint, my happiness!
No torture shall control my heart in this,
To teach my tongue deny to call thee love.
HON. Well, in regard that in my maiden-days
I lov'd thee well, now let me counsel thee.
Reclaim these idle humours; know thyself;
Remember me, and think upon my lord;
And let these thoughts bring forth those chaste effects,
Which may declare thy change unto the world:
And this assure thee--whilst I breathe this air,
Earl Lacy's honour I will ne'er impair.
[_Exit_ HONOREA.
DUN. Now your eyes see that which your heart believ'd not.
LACY. 'Tis a miracle beyond the reach
Of my capacity! I could weep for joy,
Would but my tears express how much I love her!
Men may surmise amiss in jealousy,
Of those that live in untouch'd honesty.
MUS. Is she departed? and do I conceive
This height of grief, and do no violence
Unto myself? Said she I denied her?
Far be it from my heart to think that thought.
All ye that, as I do, have felt this smart,
Ye know how burthensome 'tis at my heart.
Hereafter never will I prosecute
This former motion, my unlawful suit;
But, since she is Earl Lacy's virtuous wife,
I'll live a private, pensive, single life.
[_Exit_ MUSGRAVE.
DUN. God doth dispose all at his blessed will;
And he hath chang'd their minds from bad to good,
That we, which see't, may learn to mend ourselves.
LACY. I'll reconcile myself to Musgrave's love:
I will recant my false suspicion,
And humbly make my true submission.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ MARIAN, _chafing_.
MAR. Say'st thou thou'lt make the house too hot for me?
I'll soon abroad, and cool me in the air.
I'll teach him never scorn to drink his health
Whom I do love. He thinks to overcrow me
With words and blows; but he is in the wrong,
Begin he when he dares! O, he's too hot
And angry to live long with Marian.
But I'll not long be subject to his rage:
Here 'tis shall rid him of his hateful life,
And bless me with the style of widowhood.
'Twas Harvey's work to temper it so well:
The strongest poison that he could devise.
_Enter_ CLINTON.
I have been too long subject to the slave;
But now I'll cast off that detested yoke.
CLIN. Musgrave, I see, is reconcil'd to th'earl;
For now I met him walking with Lord Lacy.
Sure, this is Marian's plot, and there she stands.
What, love, alone!
MAR. Ay, captain, much disturb'd
About the frantic doctor's jealousy;
Who, though he seem'd content when thou wast there,
He after fell reviling thee and me;
Robb'd me of all my jewels; locks his plate
In his own trunk; and let's me only live
To bear the idle title of his wife.
CLIN. Fair Marian, by a soldier's loyal faith,
If my employment any way may help
To set thee free from this captivity,
Use me in any sort: command my sword;
I'll do't, as soon as thou shalt speak the word.
MAR. Now, by my true love, which I wish to thee,
I conjure thee with resolution
To slay that monster! Do not fail to do it!
For, if thou dost, I would I had not spoke it.
CLIN. Now try me; and, when next we hap to meet,
The doctor lies stone dead at Clinton's feet.
MAR. Nay, now I see thou lov'st me.
CLIN. Say no more.
If thou dost loathe him, he shall die therefore.
MAR. To-morrow morning will he early rise
To see Earl Lacy: meet him in the cloister,
And make that place revenge his sanctuary.
This night will I break open all the trunks,
Rifle his caskets, rob him of his gold;
And all the doctor's treasure shall be thine.
If thou miscarry, yet this drink shall do it.