A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. VIII (4th edition) - Various
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_Enter_ CASTILIANO.
CAS. My wife's impatience hath left me alone,
And made my servant run, I know not whither.
MAR. Peace! here is our eyesore. Clinton, leave us now.
CLIN. Nay, now occasion smiles, and I will do it.
[CLINTON _draweth his sword_.
MAR. Put up thy sword; be it thy morning's work:
Farewell to-night; but fail me not to-morrow.
CLIN. Farewell, my love. No rest shall close these eyes,
Until the morning peep; and then he dies.
[_Exit_ CLINTON.
CAS. [_Soliloq_.] Now I remember, I have quite outrun
My time prefix'd to dwell upon the earth:
Yet Akercock is absent: where is he?
O, I am glad I am so well near rid
Of my earth's plague and my lascivious dame.
MAR. Hath he discover'd my intendment,
That he presages his ensuing death?
I must break off these fearful meditations.
CAS. How shall I give my verdict up to Pluto
Of all these accidents?
MAR. Why, how now, man?
CAS. What, my dear dame! my reconciled spouse!
Upon my soul, my love to thee is more
Now at this present than 'twas e'er before.
MAR. He hath descried me sure, he sootheth me so! [_Aside_.]
CAS. I love thee now, because I now must leave thee.
This was the day of my nativity,
And therefore, sweet wife, let us revel it.
MAR. Nay, I have little cause to joy at all.
CAS. Thou Grossest still my mirth with discontents!
If ever heretofore I have displeas'd thee,
Sweet dame, I crave thy pardon now for all.
This is my birthday, girl, I must rejoice:
Ask what thou wilt, and I will give it thee.
MAR. Should I but ask to lead a quiet life,
You hardly would grant this unto your wife;
Much less a thing that were of more import.
CAS. Ask anything, and try if I'll deny thee.
MAR. O my poor Musgrave, how hast thou been wrong'd,
And my fair lady!
CAS. Use no preambles,
But tell me plainly.
MAR. Nay, remember them,
And join their slander to that love you owe me,
And then old Lacy's jealousy.
CAS. What then?
MAR. Nay, now I see you will not understand me.
CAS. Thou art too dark; speak plainly, and 'tis done.
MAR. Then doom the earl, and bless poor Musgrave's eyes
With Honorea's love; for this in thy hands lies.
CAS. How should I doom him?
MAR. How else, but to death?
CAS. As if his life or death lay in my hands?
MAR. He is thy patient, is he not?
CAS. He is.
MAR. Then in thy hands lie both his life and death.
Sweet love, let Marian beg it at thy hand:
Why should the grey-beard live to cross us all?
Nay, now I see thee frown: thou wilt not do it.
CAS. Fie, fie, dame! you are too suspicious.
Here is my hand, that thou may'st know I love thee;
I'll poison him this night before I sleep.
MAR. Thou dost but flatter me!
CAS. Tush! I have sworn it.
MAR. And wilt thou do it?
CAS. He is sure to die.
MAR. I'll kiss thy lips for speaking that kind word:
But do it, and I'll hang about thy neck,
And curl thy hair, and sleep betwixt thy arms,
And teach thee pleasures which thou never knew'st.
CAS. Promise no more, and trouble me no more:
The longer I stay here, he lives the longer.
I must go to him now, and now I'll do it.
Go home and hasten supper 'gainst I come:
We will carouse to his departing soul.
MAR. I will, dear husband; but remember me:
[_Aside_.] When thou hast poison'd him, I'll poison thee.
[_Exit_ MARIAN.
CAS. O wonderful, how women can dissemble!
Now she can kiss me, hang about my neck,
And soothe me with smooth smiles and lewd entreaties.
Well, I have promis'd her to kill the earl;
And yet, I hope ye will not think I'll do it.[474]
Yet I will sound the depth of their device,
And see the issue of their bloody drift.
I'll give the earl, unknown to any man,
A sleepy potion, which shall make him seem
As if he were stark dead, for certain hours:
But in my absence no man shall report
That for my dame's sake I did any hurt.
[_Exit_.
ACT V., SCENE I.
_Enter_ GRIM, _with_ JOAN.
GRIM. Nay, but, Joan, have a care! bear a brain[475] for all at once.
'Tis not one hour's pleasure that I suspect more than your mother's
good, countenance. If she be asleep, we may be bold under correction;
if she be awake, I may go my ways, and nobody ask me, _Grim, whither
goest thou_? Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that
not the worst dog in the street will hurt my little finger.
JOAN. Why speak you this? You need not fear my mother,
For she was fast asleep four hours ago.
GRIM. Is she, sure? Did you hear her snort in her dead sleep? Why then,
Joan, I have an hour's mirth for thee.
JOAN. And I a mess of cream for thee.
GRIM. Why, there is one for another then: fetch it, Joan; we will eat
and kiss, and be as merry as your cricket. [_Exit_ JOAN _for the
cream_.] Art thou gone for it? Well, go thy ways for the kindest lass
that ever poor collier met withal? I mean for to make short work with
her, and marry her presently. I'll single her out, i'faith, till I
make her bear double, and give the world to understand we will have a
young Grim between us.
_Enter_ JOAN _with the cream_.
JOAN. Look here, my love, 'tis sweeten'd for thy mouth.
GRIM. You have put none of your love-powder in it, to make me
enamourable of you, have you, Joan? I have a simple pate, to expect
you! [_One knocketh at the door_.] Joan, hark, my brains beat, my
head works, and my mind giveth me: some lovers of yours come sneaking
hither now; I like it not, 'tis suspectious.
[_One knocketh again_.
JOAN. You need not fear it; for there is none alive
Shall bear the least part of my heart from thee.
GRIM. Say'st thou so? hold there still, and whoe'er he be, open door
to him.
_She openeth the door. Enter_ SHORTHOSE, _and_ ROBIN _after him_.
JOAN. What, Master Parson, are you come so late?
You are welcome; here's none but Grim and I.
SHO. Joan, I'll no more a-nutting go,
I was so beaten to and fro;
And yet who it was, I do not know.
GRIM. What, Master Parson, are you come so late to say eveningsong to
your parishioners? I have heard of your knavery. I give you a fair
warning; touch her no lower than her girdle, and no higher than her
chin: I keep her lips and her hips for my own use. I do; and so welcome.
ROBIN. This two hours have I dogg'd the parson round about all Croydon,
doubting some such thing. [_Aside_.]
SHO. No, Grim, I here forswear to touch
Thy Joan, or any other such:
Love hath been so cudgell'd out of me,
I'll go no more to wood with thee.
ROB. 'Twas Robin beat this holy mind into him.
I think more cudgelling would make him more honest. [_Aside_.]
GRIM. You speak like an honest man and a good parson, and that is more.
Here's Joan's benevolation for us, a mess of cream and so forth. Here is
your place, Master Parson. Stand on the t'other side of the table, Joan.
Eat hard to-night, that thou may marry us the better to-morrow.
ROB. What, is my brother Grim so good a fellow.
[_They fall to the cream_.
I love a mess of cream as well as they;
I think it were best I stepp'd in and made one. [_Aside_.]
Ho, ho, ho,[476] my masters! No good fellowship!
Is Robin Goodfellow a bugbear grown,
[ROBIN _falleth to eat_.
That he is not worthy to be bid sit down?
GRIM. O Lord, save us! sure, he is some country-devil; he hath got a
russet coat upon his face.
[GRIM _and_ SHORTHOSE _retire to the back of the stage_.]
SHO. Now, _benedicite_! who is this?
I take him for some fiend, i-wis;[477]
O, for some holy-water here
Of this same place this spirit to clear!
ROB. Nay, fear not, Grim, come fall unto your cream:
Tut, I am thy friend; why dost not come and eat?
GRIM. I, sir? truly, master devil, I am well here, I thank you.
ROB. I'll have thee come, I say. Why, tremblest thou?
GRIM. No, sir, not I; 'tis a palsy I have still. Truly, sir, I have no
great acquaintance with you.
ROB. Thou shalt have better, man, ere I depart.
GRIM. I will not, and if I can choose.
ROB. Nay, come away, and bring your love with you.
GRIM. Joan! you were best go to him, Joan.
ROB. What, shall I fetch thee, man? The cream is sweet.
GRIM. No, sir, I am coming: much good do't you. I had need of a long
spoon, now I go to eat with the devil.[478]
ROB. The parson's penance shall be thus to fast.
Come, tell me, Grim, dost thou not know me, man?
GRIM. No, truly, sir; I am a poor man fetcheth my living out of the
fire; your worship may be a gentleman devil, for aught I know.
ROB. Some men call me Robin Goodfellow.
GRIM. O Lord, sir! Master Robert Goodfellow, you are very welcome, sir.
ROB. This half year have I liv'd about this town,
Helping poor servants to despatch their work,
To brew and bake, and other husbandry.
Tut, fear not, maid; if Grim be merry,
I will make up the match between ye.
GRIM. There will be a match in the devil's name!
ROB. Well, now the night is almost spent,
Since your affections all are bent
To marriage and to constant love,
Grim, Robin doth thy choice approve;
And there's the priest shall marry you:
Go to it, and make no more ado:
Sirrah, sir priest, go get you gone,
And join both her and him anon;
But ne'er hereafter let me take you
With wanton love-tricks, lest I make you
Example to all stone-priests ever,
To deal with other men's loves never.
SHO. _Valete vos_, and God bless me,
And rid me from his company!
Come, Grim, I'll join you hand in hand,
In sacred wedlock's holy band.
I will no more a-nutting go,
That journey caused all this woe.
GRIM. Come, let's to hand in hand quickly. Master Robert, you were ever
one of the honestest merry devils that ever I saw.
JOAN. Sweet Grim, and if thou lovest me, let's away.
GRIM. Nay, now, Joan, I spy a hole in your coat: if you cannot endure
the devil, you'll never love the collier. Why, we two are sworn
brothers. You shall see me talk with him even as familiarly as if I
should parbreak[479] my mind and my whole stomach upon thee.
JOAN. I prythee, do not, Grim.
GRIM. Who? not I? O Lord, Master Robert Goodfellow, I have a poor
cottage at home, whither Joan and I will jog us merrily. We will make
you no stranger, if you come thither. You shall be used as devilishly
as you would wish, i'faith. There is never a time my cart cometh from
London, but the collier bringeth a goose in his sack, and that, with
the giblets thereof, is at your service.
ROB. This is more kindness, Grim, than I expected.
GRIM. Nay, sir, if you come home, you shall find it true, I warrant
you. All my whole family shall be at your devilship's pleasure, except
my poor Joan here, and she is my own proper nightgear.
ROB. Gramercies, but away in haste;
The night is almost spent and pass'd.
GRIM. God be with you, sir; I'll make as much haste about it as may be;
for, and that were once done, I would begin a new piece of work with
you, Joan.
[_Exeunt all but_ ROBIN.
ROB. Now joy betide this merry morn,
And keep Grim's forehead from the horn:
For Robin bids his last adieu
To Grim and all the rest of you.
[_Exit_ ROBIN.
_Enter_ CLINTON _alone_.
CLIN. Bright Lucifer, go couch thee in the clouds,
And let this morning prove as dark as night!
That I unseen may bring to happy end
The doctor's murder, which I do intend.
'Tis early yet: he is not so soon stirring.
But stir he ne'er so soon, so soon he dies.
I'll walk along before the palace gate;
Then shall I know how near it is to-day,
He shall have no means to escape away.
[_Exit_ CLINTON.
_Enter_ CASTILIANO.
CAS. My trunk's broke open, and my jewels gone!
My gold and treasure stol'n: my house despoil'd
Of all my furniture, and nothing left?
No, not my wife, for she is stol'n away:
But she hath pepper'd me, I feel it work--
My teeth are loosen'd, and my belly swell'd;
My entrails burn with such distemper'd heat,
That well I know my dame hath poison'd me:
When she spoke fairest, then she did this act.
When I have spoken all I can imagine,
I cannot utter half that she intends;
She makes as little poisoning of a man,
As to carouse; I feel that this is true.
_Enter_ CLINTON.
Nay, now I know too much of womankind.
'Zounds, here's the captain: what should he make here
With his sword drawn? there's yet more villany.
CLIN. The morning is far spent; but yet he comes not.
I wonder Marian sends him not abroad.
Well, doctor, linger time, and linger life;
For long thou shalt not breathe upon the earth.
CAS. No, no, I will not live amongst ye long:
Is it for me thou wait'st, thou bloody wretch?
Her poison hath prevented thee in murther.
_Enter_ EARL MORGAN, ST DUNSTAN _with_ HONOREA
_fainting, and_ MARIAN.
Now here be they suppose Earl Lacy dead.
See how this lady grieveth for that she wisheth.
DUN. My Lord of London, by his sudden death,
And all the signs before his late departure,
'Tis very probable that he is poison'd.
MAR. Do you but doubt it? credit me, my lord,
I heard him say that drink should be his last:
I heard my husband speak it, and he did it.
CAS. There is my old friend, she always speaks for me.
O shameless creature, was't not thy device?
MOR. Let not extremity of grief o'erwhelm thee,
My dearest Honorea; for his death shall be
Surely reveng'd with all severity
Upon the doctor, and that suddenly.
CLIN. What fortune's this, that all these come this way
To hinder me, and save thy life to-day?
HON. My gracious lord, this doleful accident
Hath robb'd me of my joy: and, royal earl,
Though in thy life thou didst suspect my love,
My grief and tears suspicions shall remove.
MAR. Madam, to you and to your father's love
I owe as much and more than my own life.
Had I ten husbands should agree to do it,
My gracious lord, you presently should know it.
CAS. Ay, there's a girl! think you I did not well,
To live with such a wife, to come from hell.
MAR. Look, look, my lord, there stands the murderer!
CAS. How am I round beset on every side!
First, that same captain here stands to kill me;
My dame she hath already poisoned me;
Earl Morgan he doth threaten present death;
The Countess Honorea, in revenge
Of Lacy, is extremely incens'd 'gainst me.
All threaten--none shall do it; for my date
Is now expired, and I must back to hell.
And now, my servant, wheresoe'er thou be,
Come quickly, Akercock, and follow me.
Lordings, adieu, and my curs'd wife, farewell,
If me ye seek, come follow me to hell.
[_The ground opens, and they both fall[480] down into it_.
MOR. The earth that opened now is clos'd again.
DUN. It is God's judgment for his grievous sins.
CLIN. Was there a quagmire, that he sank so soon?
HON. O miracle! now may we justly say,
Heavens have reveng'd my husband's death this day.
MOR. Alas, poor Marian! we have wrong'd thee much
To cause thee match thyself to any such.
MAR. Nay, let him go, and sink into the ground;
For such as he are better lost than found.
Now, Honorea, we are freed from blame,
And both enrich'd with happy widow's name[481].
_Enter_ EARL LACY, _with_ FORREST _and_ MUSGRAVE.
LACY. O, lead me quickly to that mourning train,
Which weep for me, who am reviv'd again.
HON. Marian, I shed some tears of perfect grief.
[_She falleth into a swoon_.
MOR. Do not my eyes deceive me? liveth my son?
LACY. My lord and father, both alive and well,
Recover'd of my weakness. Where's my wife?
MAR. Here is my lady, your beloved wife,
Half dead to hear of your untimely end.
LACY. Look on me, Honorea; see thy lord:
I am not dead, but live to love thee still.
DUN. 'Tis God disposeth all things, as he will:
He raiseth those the wicked wish to fall.
CLIN. 'Zounds, I still watch on this enclosed ground;
For if he rise again, I'll murder him.
HON. My lord, my tongue's not able to report
Those joys my heart conceives to see thee live.
DUN. Give God the glory: he recovered thee,
And wrought this judgment on that cursed man,
That set debate and strife among ye all.
MOR. My lord, our eyes have seen a miracle,
Which after ages ever shall admire.
The Spanish doctor, standing here before us,
Is sunk into the bowels of the earth,
Ending his vile life by a viler death.
LACY. But, gentle Marian, I bewail thy loss,
That wert maid, wife, and widow, all so soon.
MAR. 'Tis your recovery that joys me more,
Than grief can touch me for the doctor's death.
He never lov'd me whilst he liv'd with me,
Therefore the less I mourn his tragedy.
MOR. Henceforth we'll strictlier look to strangers' lives,
How they shall marry any English wives.
Now all men shall record this fatal day;
Lacy revived, the doctor sunk in clay.
[_The trumpets sound, exeunt omnes nisi_ DUNSTAN.
DUN. Now is Earl Lacy's house fill'd full of joy,
He and his lady wholly reconcil'd,
Their jars all ended: those, that were like men
Transformed, turn'd unto their shapes again.
And, gentlemen, before we make an end,
A little longer yet your patience lend,
That in your friendly censures you may see
What the infernal synod do decree;
And after judge, if we deserve to name
This play of ours, _The devil and his dame_.
[_Exit_.
_It thunders and lightneth. Enter_ PLUTO, MINOS,
AEACUS, RHADAMANTHUS, _with Fury bringing in_
MALBECCO'S _Ghost_.
PLU. Minos, is this the day he should return,
And bring us tidings of his twelvemonth spent!
_Enter_ BELPHEGOR, _like a devil, with horns
on his head, and_ AKERCOCK.
MIN. It is, great king, and here Belphegor comes.
PLU. His visage is more ghastly than 'twas wont.
What ornaments are those upon his head?
BEL. Hell, I salute thee! now I feel myself
Rid of a thousand torments. O vile earth,
Worse for us devils than hell itself for men!
Dread Pluto, hear thy subject's just complaint
[BELPHEGOR _kneeleth to_ PLUTO.
Proceeding from the anguish of my soul.
O, never send me more into the earth!
For there dwells dread and horror more than here.
PLU. Stand forth, Belphegor, and report the truth
Of all things have betide thee in the world.
BEL. When first, great king, I came into the earth,
I chose a wife both young and beautiful,
The only daughter to a noble earl;
But when the night came that I should her bed,
I found another laid there in her stead:
And in the morning when I found the change,
Though I denied her, I was forc'd to take her.
With her I liv'd in such a mild estate,
Us'd her still kindly, lov'd her tenderly;
Which she requited with such light regard,
So loose demeanour, and dishonest life,
That she was each man's whore, that was my wife.
No hours but gallants flock'd unto my house,
Such as she fancied for her loathsome lust,
With whom, before my face, she did not spare
To play the strumpet. Yea, and more than this,
She made my house a stew for all resorts,
Herself a bawd to others' filthiness:
Which, if I once began but to reprove,
O, then, her tongue was worse than all the rest!
No ears with patience would endure to hear her,
Nor would she ever cease, till I submit[ted]:
And then she'd speak me fair, but wish me dead.
A hundred drifts she laid to cut me off,
Still drawing me to dangers of my life.
And now, my twelvemonth being near expir'd,
She poison'd me; and least that means should fail,
She entic'd a captain to've murdered me.
In brief, whatever tongue can tell of ill,
All that may well be spoken of my dame.
AKER. Poor Akercock was fain to fly her sight,
For never an hour but she laid on me;
Her tongue and fist walked all so nimbly.
PLU. Doth then, Belphegor, this report of thine
Against all women hold in general?
BEL. Not so, great prince: for, as 'mongst other creatures,
Under that sex are mingled good and bad.
There are some women virtuous, chaste, and true;
And to all those the devil will give their due.
But, O, my dame, born for a scourge[482] to man!
For no mortality [I] would endure that,
Which she a thousand times hath offered me.
PLU. But what new shapes are those upon thy head?
BEL. These are the ancient arms of cuckoldry,
And these my dame hath kindly left to me;
For which Belphegor shall be here derided,
Unless your great infernal majesty
Do solemnly proclaim, no devil shall scorn
Hereafter still to wear the goodly horn.
PLU. This for thy service I will grant thee freely:
All devils shall, as thou dost, like horns wear,
And none shall scorn Belphegor's arms to bear.
And now, Malbecco, hear thy latest doom.
Since that thy first reports are justified
By after-proofs, and women's looseness known,
One plague more will I send upon the earth!
Thou shalt assume a light and fiery shape,
And so for ever live within the world;
Dive into women's thoughts, into men's hearts;
Raise up false rumours and suspicious fears;
Put strange inventions into each man's mind;
And for these actions they shall always call thee
By no name else but fearful Jealousy.
Go, Jealousy, begone; thou hast thy charge;
Go, range about the world that is so large.
And now, for joy Belphegor is return'd,
The furies shall their tortures cast away,
And all hell o'er we'll make it holiday.
[_It thundereth and lightneth. Exeunt omnes_.
FINIS.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Cooper's "Athenae Cantabrig," ii. 306.
[2] Nash seems to have boasted of his birth earlier than the date of his
"Lenten Stuff," for G. Harvey, in his "Four Letters," &c., 1592, says:
"I have enquired what speciall cause the pennyless gentleman hath to
brag of his birth, which giveth the woeful poverty good leave, even with
his Stentor's voice, and in his rattling terms, to revive the pitiful
history of Lazarillo de Thormes."
[3] Not of Hertfordshire, a mistake originally made by Shiel in his
"Lives of the Poets," thence copied into Berkenhout's "Biographia
Literaria," and subsequently into the last edition of the "Biographia
Dramatica." [It is copied also by the editor of a reprint of Nash and
Marlowe's "Dido," 1825.]
[4] Sig. Q 4.
[5] "For coming from Venice the last summer, and taking Bergamo in my
way homeward to England, it was my hap, sojourning there some four or
five days, to light in fellowship with that famous _Francattip_
Harlequin, who, perceiving me to be an Englishman by my habit and
speech, asked me many particulars of the order and manner of our plays,
which he termed by the name of representations. Amongst other talk he
enquired of me if I knew any such _Parabolano_ here in London as Signior
_Chiarlatano_ Kempino. 'Very well,' quoth I, 'and have been often in his
company.' He hearing me say so began to embrace me anew, and offered me
all the courtesy he could for his sake, saying although he knew him not,
yet for the report he had heard of his pleasance, he could not but be in
love with his perfections being absent."
Many of Nash's works furnish evidence that he was well acquainted with
Italian poets and writers. Some allusions and translations are pointed
out in the notes to the present reprint of "Summer's Last Will and
Testament."
[6] It is called "A counter-cuff to Martin junior," &c.
[7] It may be doubted whether Greene and Nash did not contribute to
bring the occupation of a _ropemaker_ into discredit. Marston, in his
"_Parasitaster_," printed in 1606, for some reason or other, speaks of
it in terms of great contempt.
"Then must you sit there thrust and contemned, bareheaded to a grogram
scribe, ready to start up at the door creaking, prest to get in, with
your leave sir, to some surly groom, _the third son of a ropemaker_."
[8] There is a MS. poem in the Brit. Mus. (Bibl. Sloan. 1489) entitled
"The Trimming of Tom Nash," written in metre-ballad verse, but it does
not relate to our author, though written probably not very long after
1600, and though the title is evidently borrowed from the tract by
Gabriel Harvey. Near the opening it contains some notices of romances
and works of the time, which may be worth quoting--
"And he as many authors read
As ere Don Quixote had.
And some of them could say by heart
To make the hearers glad.
"The valiant deeds of Knight o'th' Sun
And Rosicleer so tall;
And Palmerin of England too
And Amadis of Gaul.
"Bevis of Hampton he had read
And Guy of Warwick stout;
Huon of Bordeaux, though so long,
Yet he had read him out.
"The Hundred Tales and Scoggin's Jests
And Arthur of the Round Table,
The twelve Wise men of Gotham too
And Ballads innumerable."
[9] It is unnecessary to quote the passage, as the whole tract is
reprinted both in the old and new editions of the "Harleian Miscellany."
In his "Almond for a Parrot," Nash adverts to the ticklishness of the
times, and to the necessity of being extremely guarded in what he might
write. "If thou (Kemp) will not accept of it in regard of the envy of
some citizens that cannot away with arguments, I'll prefer it (the book)
to the soul of Dick Tarlton, who I know will entertain it with thanks,
imitating herein that merry man Rabelais, who dedicated most of his
works to the soul of the old Queen of Navarre, many years after her
death, for that she was a maintainer of mirth in her life. Marry, God
send us more of her making, and then some of us should not live so
discontented as we do, for nowadays a man cannot have a bout with a
ballader, or write _Midas habet aures asininas_, in great Roman letters,
but he shall be in danger of a further displeasure."