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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A CHASTE MAID IN CHEAPSIDE, by THOMAS MIDDLETON Poet's Biography
First Line: Have you played over all your old lessons as virginals?
Last Line: [exeunt.
Subject(s): Comedy
First Line: Have you played over all your old lessons as virginals?
Last Line: [exeunt.
Subject(s): Comedy
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
SIR WALTER WHOREHOUND.
SIR OLIVER KIX.
TOUCHWOOD senior.
TOUCHWOOD junior.
ALLWIT.
YELLOWHAMMER, a goldsmith.
TIM, his son.
Tutor to Tim.
DAVY DAHANNA, Sir Walter's poor kinsman and attendant.
Parson.
WAT, son of Sir Walter by Mistress Allwit.
NICK, son of Sir Walter by Mistress Allwit.
Two Promoters.
Porter, Watermen, &c.
LADY KIX.
MISTRESS TOUCHWOOD, wife of TOUCHWOOD senior.
MISTRESS ALLWIT.
MAUDLIN, wife of YELLOWHAMMER.
MOLL, her daughter.
Welshwoman, mistress to SIR W. WHOREHOUND.
Country Girl.
SUSAN.
Maid, Midwife, Nurses, Puritans, and other Gossips, &c.
SCENE—LONDON.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
YELLOWHAMMER'S Shop.
Enter MAUDLIN and MOLL.
MAUD. Have you played over all your old lessons o' the virginals?
Moll. Yes.
Maud. Yes? you are a dull maid a' late; methinks you had need have
somewhat to quicken your green sickness—do you weep?—a husband: had
not such a piece of flesh been ordained, what had us wives been good for? to
make salads, or else cried up and down for samphire. To see the difference of
these seasons! when I was of your youth, I was lightsome and quick two years
before I was married. You fit for a knight's bed! drowsy-browed, dull-eyed,
drossy-spirited! I hold my life you have forgot your dancing: when was the
dancer with you?
Moll. The last week.
Maud. Last week? when I was of your bord
He missed me not a night; I was kept at it;
I took delight to learn, and he to teach me;
Pretty brown gentleman! he took pleasure in my company:
But you are dull, nothing comes nimbly from you;
You dance like a plumber's daughter, and deserve
Two thousand pound in lead to your marriage,
And not in goldsmith's ware.
Enter YELLOWHAMMER.
Yel. Now, what's the din
Betwixt mother and daughter, ha?
Maud. Faith, small;
Telling your daughter, Mary, of her errors.
Yel. Errors? nay, the city cannot hold you, wife,
But you must needs fetch words from Westminster:
I ha' done, i'faith.
Has no attorney's clerk been here a' late,
And changed his half-crown-piece his mother sent him,
Or rather cozened you with a gilded twopence,
To bring the word in fashion for her faults
Or cracks in duty and obedience?
Term 'em even so, sweet wife,
As there's no woman made without a flaw;
Your purest lawns have frays, and cambrics bracks.
Maud. But 'tis a husband solders up all cracks.
Moll. What, is he come, sir?
Yel. Sir Walter's come: he was met
At Holborn Bridge, and in his company
A proper fair young gentlewoman, which I guess,
By her red hair and other rank descriptions,
To be his landed niece, brought out of Wales,
Which Tim our son, the Cambridge boy, must marry:
'Tis a match of Sir Walter's own making,
To bind us to him and our heirs for ever.
Maud. We're honoured then, if this baggage would be humble,
And kiss him with devotion when he enters.
I cannot get her for my life
To instruct her hand thus, before and after,—
Which a knight will look for,—before and after:
I've told her still 'tis the waving of a woman
Does often move a man, and prevails strongly.
But, sweet, ha' you sent to Cambridge? has Tim word on't?
Yel. Had word just the day after, when you sent him
The silver spoon to eat. his broth in the hall
Amongst the gentlemen commoners.
Maud. O, 'twas timely.
Enter Porter.
Yel. How now?
Por. A letter from a gentleman in Cambridge.
[Gives letter to YELLOWHAMMER.
Yel. O, one of Hobson's porters: thou art welcome.—
I told thee, Maud, we should hear from Tim. [Reads.]
Amantissimis carissimisque ambobus parentibus, patri et matri.
Maud. What's the matter?
Yel. Nay, by my troth, I know not, ask not me:
He's grown too verbal; this learning's a great witch.
Maud. Pray, let me see it; I was wont to understand him. [Reads.]
Amantissimis carissimis, he has sent the carrier's man, he says; ambobus
parentibus, for a pair of boots; patri et matri, pay the porter, or it
makes no matter.
Por. Yes, by my faith, mistress; there's no true construction in
that:
I have took a great deal of pains, and come from the Bell sweating. Let
me come
to't, for I was a scholar forty years ago; 'tis thus, I warrant you:
[Reads.] Matri, it makes no matter; ambobus parentibus, for a pair
of boots; patri, pay the porter; amantissimis carissimis, he's the
carrier's man, and his name is Sims; and there he says true, forsooth, my name
is Sims indeed; I have not forgot all my learning: a money-matter, I thought I
should hit on't.
Yel. Go, thou'rt an old fox; there's a tester for thee.
[Gives money.
Por. If I see your worship at Goose-fair, I have a dish of birds for
you.
Yel. Why, dost dwell at Bow?
Por. All my lifetime, sir; I could ever say bo to a goose.
Farewell to
your worship. [Exit.
Yel. A merry porter.
Maud. How can he choose but be so,
Coming with Cambridge letters from our son Tim.
Yel. What's here? maximus diligo; faith, I must to my learned
counsel with this gear, 'twill ne'er be discerned else.
Maud. Go to my cousin then, at Inns of Court.
Yel. Fie, they are all for French, they speak no Latin.
Maud. The parson then will do it.
Yel. Nay, he disclaims it,
Calls Latin papistry, he will not deal with it.—
Enter a Gentleman.
What is't you lack, gentleman?
Gent. Pray, weigh this chain.
[Gives chain, which YELLOWHAMMER weighs.
Enter Sir WALTER WHOREHOUND, Welshwoman, and DAVY.
Sir Wal. Now, wench, thou art welcome
To the heart of the city of London.
Welsh. Dugat a whee.
Sir Wal. You can thank me in English, if you list.
Welsh. I can, sir, simply.
Sir Wal. 'Twill serve to pass, wench;
'Twas strange that I should lie with thee so often.
To leave thee without English, that were unnatural.
I bring thee up to turn thee into gold, wench,
And make thy fortune shine like your bright trade;
A goldsmith's shop sets out a city maid.—
Davy Dahanna, not a word.
Davy. Mum, mum, sir.
Sir Wal. Here you must pass for a pure virgin.
Davy. Pure Welsh virgin!
She lost her maidenhead in Brecknockshire. [Aside.
Sir Wal. I hear you mumble, Davy.
Davy. I have teeth, sir;
I need not mumble yet this forty years.
Sir Wal. The knave bites plaguily!
Yel. What's your price, sir?
Gent. A hundred pound, sir.
Yel. A hundred marks the utmost;
'Tis not for me else.—What, Sir Walter Whorehound?
[Exit Gentleman.
Moll. O death! [Exit.
Maud. Why, daughter—Faith, the baggage is
A bashful girl, sir; these young things are shamefaced;
Besides, you have a presence, sweet Sir Walter,
Able to daunt a maid brought up i' the city:
A brave court-spirit makes our virgins quiver,
And kiss with trembling thighs; yet see, she comes, sir.
Re-enter MOLL.
Sir Wal. Why, how now, pretty mistress? now I've caught you:
What, can you injure so your time to stray
Thus from your faithful servant?
Yel. Pish, stop your words, good knight,—'twill make her blush
else,—
Which wound too high for the daughters of the freedom.
Honour and faithful servant! they are compliments
For the worthies of Whitehall or Greenwich;
E'en plain, sufficient subsidy words serves us, sir.
And is this gentlewoman your worthy niece?
Sir Wal. You may be bold with her on these terms; 'tis she, sir,
Heir to some nineteen mountains.
Yel. Bless us all!
You overwhelm me, sir, with love and riches.
Sir Wal. And all as high as Paul's.
Davy. Here's work, i'faith! [Aside.
Sir Wal. How sayst thou, Davy?
Davy. Higher, sir, by far;
You cannot see the top of 'em.
Yel. What, man!—
Maudlin, salute this gentlewoman, our daughter,
If things hit right.
Enter TOUCHWOOD junior.
Touch. jun. My knight, with a brace of footmen,
Is come, and brought up his ewe-mutton to find
A ram at London; I must hasten it,
Or else pick a' famine; her blood is mine,
And that's the surest. Well, knight, that choice spoil
Is only kept for me. [Aside.
Moll. Sir_____
Touch. jun. Turn not to me till thou mayst lawfully; it but whets my
stomach, which is too sharp-set already. Read that note carefully [giving
letter to MOLL]; keep me from suspicion still, nor know my zeal but in thy
heart:
Read, and send but thy liking in three words;
I'll be at hand to take it.
Yel. O turn, sir, turn.
A poor, plain boy, an university man;
Proceeds next Lent to a bachelor of art;
He will be called Sir Yellowhammer then
Over all Cambridge, and that's half a knight.
Maud. Please you, draw near
And taste the welcome of the city, sir.
Yel. Come, good Sir Walter, and your virtuous niece here.
Sir Wal. 'Tis manners to take kindness.
Yel. Lead 'em in, wife.
Sir Wal. Your company, sir?
Yel. I'll give't you instantly.
[Exeunt MAUDLIN, Sir W. WHOREHOUND, Welshwoman,
and DAVY.
Touch. jun. How strangely busy is the devil and riches!
Poor soul! kept in too hard, her mother's eye
Is cruel toward her, being to him.
'Twere a good mirth now to set him a-work
To make her wedding-ring; I must about it:
Rather than the gain should fall to a stranger,
'Twas honesty in me t' enrich my father. [Aside.
Yel. The girl is wondrous peevish. I fear nothing
But that she's taken with some other love,
Then all's quite dashed: that must be narrowly looked to;
We cannot be too wary in our children.— [Aside.
What is't you lack?
Touch. jun. O, nothing now; all that I wish is present:
I'd have a wedding-ring made for a gentlewoman
With all speed that may be.
Yel. Of what weight, sir?
Touch. jun. Of some half ounce, stand fair
And comely, with the spark of a diamond;
Sir, 'twere pity to lose the least grace.
Yel. Pray, let's see it.
[Takes stone from TOUCHWOOD junior.
Indeed, sir, 'tis a pure one.
Touch. jun. So is the mistress.
Yel. Have you the wideness of her finger, sir?
Touch. jun. Yes, sure, I think I have her measure about me:
Good faith, 'tis down, I cannot show it you;
I must pull too many things out to be certain.
Let me see—long and slender, and neatly jointed;
Just such another gentlewoman—that's your daughter, sir?
Yel. And therefore, sir, no gentlewoman.
Touch. jun. I protest
I ne'er saw two maids handed more alike;
I'll ne'er seek farther, if you'll give me leave, sir.
Yel. If you dare venture by her finger, sir.
Touch. jun. Ay, and I'll bide all loss, sir.
Yel. Say you so, sir?
Let us see.—Hither, girl.
Touch. jun. Shall I make bold
With your finger, gentlewoman?
Moll. Your pleasure, sir.
Touch. jun. That fits her to a hair, sir.
[Trying ring on MOLL'S finger.
Yel. What's your posy now, sir?
Touch. jun. Mass, that's true: posy? i'faith, e'en thus, sir:
"Love that's wise
Blinds parents' eyes."
Yel. How, how? if I may speak without offence, sir,
I hold my life_____
Touch. jun. What, sir?
Yel. Go to,—you'll pardon me?
Touch. jun. Pardon you? ay, sir.
Yel. Will you, i'faith?
Touch. jun. Yes, faith, I will.
Yel. You'll steal away some man's daughter: am I near you?
Do you turn aside? you gentlemen are mad wags!
I wonder things can be so warily carried,
And parents blinded so: but they're served right,
That have two eyes and were so dull a' sight.
Touch. jun. Thy doom take hold of thee! [Aside.
Yel. To-morrow noon
Shall show your ring well done.
Touch. jun. Being so, 'tis soon.—
Thanks, and your leave, sweet gentlewoman.
Moll. Sir, you're welcome.—
[Exit TOUCHWOOD junior.
O were I made of wishes, I went with thee! [Aside.
Yel. Come now, we'll see how the rules go within.
Moll. That robs my joy; there I lose all I win.
[Aside. Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Hall in ALLWIT'S House.
Enter DAVY and ALLWIT severally.
Davy. Honesty wash my eyes! I've spied a wittol.
[Aside.
Allwit. What, Davy Dahanna? welcome from North Wales, i'faith!
And is Sir Walter come?
Davy. New come to town, sir.
Allwit. In to the maids, sweet Davy, and give order
His chamber be made ready instantly.
My wife's as great as she can wallow, Davy, and longs
For nothing but pickled cucumbers and his coming;
And now she shall ha't, boy.
Davy. She's sure of them, sir.
Allwit. Thy very sight will hold my wife in pleasure
Till the knight come himself; go in, in, in, Davy.
[Exit DAVY.
The founder's come to town: I'm like a man
Finding a table furnished to his hand,
As mine is still to me, prays for the founder,—
Bless the right worshipful the good founder's life!
I thank him, has maintained my house this ten years;
Not only keeps my wife, but 'a keeps me
And all my family; I'm at his table:
He gets me all my children, and pays the nurse
Monthly or weekly; puts me to nothing, rent,
Nor church-duties, not so much as the scavenger:
The happiest state that ever man was born to!
I walk out in a morning; come to breakfast,
Find excellent cheer; a good fire in winter;
Look in my coal-house about midsummer eve,
That's full, five or six chaldron new laid up;
Look in my back-yard, I shall find a steeple
Made up with Kentish faggots, which o'erlooks
The water-house and the windmills: I say nothing,
But smile and pin the door. When she lies in,
As now she's even upon the point of grunting,
A lady lies not in like her; there's her embossings,
Embroiderings, spanglings, and I know not what,
As if she lay with all the gaudy-shops
In Gresham's Burse about her; then her restoratives,
Able to set up a young 'pothecary,
And richly stock the foreman of a drug-shop;
Her sugar by whole loaves, her wines by rundlets.
I see these things, but, like a happy man,
I pay for none at all; yet fools think's mine;
I have the name, and in his gold I shine:
And where some merchants would in soul kiss hell
To buy a paradise for their wives, and dye
Their conscience in the bloods of prodigal heirs
To deck their night-piece, yet all this being done,
Eaten with jealousy to the inmost bone,—
As what affliction nature more constrains,
Than feed the wife plump for another's veins?—
These torments stand I freed of; I'm as clear
From jealousy of a wife as from the charge:
O, two miraculous blessings! 'tis the knight
Hath took that labour all out of my hands:
I may sit still and play; he's jealous for me,
Watches her steps, sets spies; I live at ease,
He has both the cost and torment: when the string
Of his heart frets, I feed, laugh, or sing,
La dildo, dildo la dildo, la dildo dildo de dildo! [Sings.
Enter two Servants.
1st Ser. What, has he got a singing in his head now?
2nd Ser. Now's out of work, he falls to making dildoes.
Allwit. Now, sirs, Sir Walter's come.
1st Ser. Is our master come?
Allwit. Your master! what am I?
1st Ser. Do not you know, sir?
Allwit. Pray, am not I your master?
1st Ser. O, you're but
Our mistress's husband.
Allwit. Ergo, knave, your master.
1st Ser. Negatur argumentum.—Here comes Sir Walter:
Enter Sir WALTER and DAVY.
Now 'a stands bare as well as we; make the most of him,
He's but one peep above a serving-man,
And so much his horns make him.
Sir Wal. How dost, Jack?
Allwit. Proud of your worship's health, sir.
Sir Wal. How does your wife?
Allwit. E'en after your own making, sir;
She's a tumbler, a' faith, the nose and belly meets.
Sir Wal. They'll part in time again.
Allwit. At the good hour they will, an't please your worship.
Sir Wal. Here, sirrah, pull off my boots.—Put on, put on, Jack.
[Servant pulls off his boots.
Allwit. I thank your kind worship, sir.
Sir Wal. Slippers! heart, you are sleepy!
[Servant brings slippers.
Allwit. The game begins already. [Aside.
Sir Wal. Pish, put on, Jack.
Allwit. Now I must do't, or he'll be as angry now,
As if I had put it on at first bidding;
'Tis but observing,
'Tis but observing a man's humour once,
And he may ha' him by the nose all his life. [Aside.
Sir Wal. What entertainment has lain open here?
No strangers in my absence?
1st Ser. Sure, sir, not any.
Allwit. His jealousy begins: am not I happy now,
That can laugh inward whilst his marrow melts? [Aside.
Sir Wal. How do you satisfy me?
1st Ser. Good sir, be patient!
Sir Wal. For two months' absence I'll be satisfied.
1st Ser. No living creature entered_____
Sir Wal. Entered? come, swear!
1st Ser. You will not hear me out, sir_____
Sir Wal. Yes, I'll hear't out, sir.
1st Ser. Sir, he can tell himself_____
Sir Wal. Heart, he can tell?
Do you think I'll trust him? as a usurer
With forfeited lordships:—him? O monstrous injury!
Believe him? can the devil speak ill of darkness?—
What can you say, sir?
Allwit. Of my soul and conscience, sir,
She's a wife as honest of her body to me
As any lord's proud lady e'er can be!
Sir Wal. Yet, by your leave, I heard you were once offering
To go to bed to her.
Allwit. No, I protest, sir!
Sir Wal. Heart, if you do, you shall take all! I'll marry.
Allwit. O, I beseech you, sir!
Sir Wal. That wakes the slave,
And keeps his flesh in awe. [Aside.
Allwit. I'll stop that gap
Where'er I find it open: I have poisoned
His hopes in marriage already with
Some old rich widows, and some landed virgins;
And I'll fall to work still before I'll lose him;
He's yet too sweet to part from. [Aside.
Enter WAT and NICK.
Wat. God-den, father.
Allwit. Ha, villain, peace!
Nick. God-den, father.
Allwit. Peace, bastard!
Should he hear 'em! [Aside.]—These are two foolish children,
They do not know the gentleman that sits there.
Sir Wal. O, Wat—how dost, Nick? go to school, ply your books,
boys, ha!
Allwit. Where's your legs, whoresons?—They should kneel indeed,
If they could say their prayers.
Sir Wal. Let me see, stay,—
How shall I dispose of these two brats now [Aside.
When I am married? for they must not mingle
Amongst my children that I get in wedlock;
'Twill make foul work that, and raise many storms.
I will bind Wat prentice to a goldsmith,
My father Yellowhammer, as fit as can be;
Nick with some vintner; good, goldsmith and vintner
There will be wine in bowls, i'faith.
Enter Mistress ALLWIT.
Mis. All. Sweet knight,
Welcome! I've all my longings now in town;
Now welcome the good hour!
Sir Wal. How cheers my mistress?
Mis. All. Made lightsome e'en by him that made me heavy.
Sir Wal. Methinks she shows gallantly, like a moon at full, sir.
Allwit. True, and if she bear a male child, there's the man in the
moon, sir.
Sir Wal. 'Tis but the boy in the moon yet, goodman calf.
Allwit. There was a man, the boy had ne'er been there else.
Sir Wal. It shall be yours, sir.
Allwit. No, by my troth, I'll swear
It's none of mine; let him that got it keep it!—
Thus do I rid myself of fear,
Lie soft, sleep hard, drink wine, and eat good cheer. [Aside. Exeunt.
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.
A Street.
Enter TOUCHWOOD senior and Mistress TOUCHWOOD.
Mis. Touch. 'Twill be so tedious, sir, to live from you,
But that necessity must be obeyed.
Touch. sen. I would it might not, wife! the tediousness
Will be the most part mine, that understand
The blessings I have in thee; so to part,
That drives the torment to a knowing heart.
But, as thou sayst, we must give way to need,
And live awhile asunder; our desires
Are both too fruitful for our barren fortunes.
How adverse runs the destiny of some creatures!
Some only can get riches and no children;
We only can get children and no riches:
Then 'tis the prudent'st part to check our wills,
And, till our state rise, make our bloods lie still.
'Life, every year a child, and some years two!
Besides drinkings abroad, that's never reckoned;
This gear will not hold out.
Mis. Touch. Sir, for a time
I'll take the courtesy of my uncle's house,
If you be pleased to like on't, till prosperity
Look with a friendly eye upon our states.
Touch. sen. Honest wife, I thank thee! I never knew
The perfect treasure thou brought'st with thee more
Than at this instant minute: a man's happy
When he's at poorest, that has matched his soul
As rightly as his body: had I married
A sensual fool now, as 'tis hard to 'scape it
'Mongst gentlewomen of our time, she would ha' hanged
About my neck, and never left her hold
Till she had kissed me into wanton businesses,
Which at the waking of my better judgment
I should have cursed most bitterly,
And laid a thicker vengeance on my act
Than misery of the birth; which were enough
If it were born to greatness, whereas mine
Is sure of beggary, though 't were got in wine.
Fulness of joy showeth the goodness in thee;
Thou art a matchless wife: farewell, my joy!
Mis. Touch. I shall not want your sight?
Touch. sen. I'll see thee often,
Talk in mirth, and play at kisses with thee;
Anything, wench, but what may beget beggars:
There I give o'er the set, throw down the cards,
And dare not take them up.
Mis. Touch. Your will be mine, sir! [Exit.
Touch. sen. This does not only make her honesty perfect,
But her discretion, and approves her judgment.
Had her desires been wanton, they'd been blameless,
In being lawful ever; but of all creatures,
I hold that wife a most unmatchèd treasure,
That can unto her fortunes fix her pleasure,
And not unto her blood: this is like wedlock;
The feast of marriage is not lust, but love,
And care of the estate. When I please blood,
Merrily I sing and suck out others' then:
'Tis many a wise man's fault; but of all men
I am the most unfortunate in that game
That ever pleased both genders; I ne'er played yet
Under a bastard; the poor wenches curse me
To the pit where'er I come; they were ne'er served so,
But used to have more words than one to a bargain:
I've such a fatal finger in such business,
I must forth with't; chiefly for country wenches,
For every harvest I shall hinder haymaking;
I had no less than seven lay in last progress,
Within three weeks of one another's time.
Enter a Country Girl with a child.
C. Girl. O snaphance, have I found you?
Touch. sen. How snaphance?
C. Girl. Do you see your workmanship? nay, turn not from't,
Nor offer to escape; for if you do,
I'll carry it through the streets, and follow you.
Your name may well be called Touchwood,—a pox on you!
You do but touch and take; thou hast undone me:
I was a maid before, I can bring a certificate
For it from both the churchwardens.
Touch. sen. I'll have
The parson's hand too, or I'll not yield to't.
C. Girl. Thou shalt have more, thou villain! Nothing grieves me
But Ellen my poor cousin in Derbyshire;
Thou'st cracked her marriage quite; she'll have a bout with thee.
Touch. sen. Faith, when she will, I'll have a bout with her.
C. Girl. A law bout, sir, I mean.
Touch. sen. True, lawyers use
Such bouts as other men do; and if that
Be all thy grief, I'll tender her a husband;
I keep of purpose two or three gulls in pickle
To eat such mutton with, and she shall choose one.
Do but in courtesy, faith, wench, excuse me
Of this half yard of flesh, in which, I think,
It wants a nail or two.
C. Girl. No; thou shalt find, villain,
It hath right shape, and all the nails it should have.
Touch. sen. Faith, I am poor; do a charitable deed, wench;
I am a younger brother, and have nothing.
C. Girl. Nothing? thou hast too much, thou lying villain,
Unless thou wert more thankful!
Touch. sen. I've no dwelling;
I brake up house but this morning; pray thee, pity me;
I'm a good fellow, faith; have been too kind
To people of your gender; if I ha't
Without my belly, none of your sex shall want it;
That word has been of force to move a woman.
There's tricks enough to rid thy hand on't, wench;
Some rich man's porch to-morrow before day,
Or else anon i' the evening; twenty devices.
Here's all I have, i'faith; take purse and all,
And would I were rid of all the ware i' the shop so!
[Gives money.
C. Girl. Where I find manly dealings, I am pitiful:
This shall not trouble you.
Touch. sen. And I protest, wench,
The next I'll keep myself.
C. Girl. Soft, let it be got first.
This is the fifth; if e'er I venture more,
Where I now go for a maid, may I ride for a whore!
[Exit.
Touch. sen. What shift she'll make now with this piece of flesh
In this strict time of Lent, I cannot imagine;
Flesh dare not peep abroad now: I have known
This city now above this seven years,
But, I protest, in better state of government
I never knew it yet, nor ever heard of;
There have been more religious wholesome laws
In the half-circle of a year erected
For common good than memory e'er knew of,
Setting apart corruption of promoters,
And other poisonous officers, that infect
And with a venomous breath taint every goodness.
Enter Sir OLIVER KIX and Lady KIX.
Lady Kix. O that e'er I was begot, or bred, or born!
Sir Ol. Be content, sweet wife.
Touch. sen. What's here to do now?
I hold my life she's in deep passion
For the imprisonment of veal and mutton,
Now kept in garrets; weeps for some calf's head now:
Methinks her husband's head might serve, with bacon.
[Aside.
Enter TOUCHWOOD junior.
Touch. jun. Hist!
Sir Ol. Patience, sweet wife.
Touch. jun. Brother, I've sought you strangely.
Touch. sen. Why, what's the business?
Touch. jun. With all speed thou canst
Procure a license for me.
Touch. sen. How, a license?
Touch. jun. Cud's foot, she's lost else! I shall miss her ever.
Touch. sen. Nay, sure thou shalt not miss so fair a mark
For thirteen shillings fourpence.
Touch. jun. Thanks by hundreds!
[Exeunt TOUCHWOOD senior and junior.
Sir Ol. Nay, pray thee, cease; I'll be at more cost yet,
Thou know'st we're rich enough.
Lady Kix. All but in blessings,
And there the beggar goes beyond us: O-o-o!
To be seven years a wife, and not a child!
O, not a child!
Sir Ol. Sweet wife, have patience.
Lady Kix. Can any woman have a greater cut?
Sir Ol. I know 'tis great, but what of that, sweet wife?
I cannot do withal; there's things making,
By thine own doctor's advice, at pothecary's:
I spare for nothing, wife; no, if the price
Were forty marks a spoonful, I would give
A thousand pound to purchase fruitfulness:
It is but bating so many good works
In the erecting of bridewells and spittlehouses,
And so fetch it up again; for having none,
I mean to make good deeds my children.
Lady Kix. Give me but those good deeds, and I'll find children.
Sir Ol. Hang thee, thou'st had too many!
Lady Kix. Thou liest, brevity.
Sir Ol. O horrible! dar'st thou call me brevity?
Dar'st thou be so short with me?
Lady Kix. Thou deserv'st worse:
Think but upon the goodly lands and livings
That's kept back through want on't.
Sir Ol. Talk not on't, pray thee;
Thou'lt make me play the woman and weep too.
Lady Kix. 'Tis our dry barrenness puffs up Sir Walter;
None gets by your not getting but that knight;
He's made by th' means, and fats his fortunes shortly
In a great dowry with a goldsmith's daughter.
Sir Ol. They may be all deceived; be but you patient, wife.
Lady Kix. I've suffered a long time.
Sir Ol. Suffer thy heart out;
A pox suffer thee!
Lady Kix. Nay, thee, thou desertless slave!
Sir Ol. Come, come, I ha' done: you'll to the gossiping
Of Master Allwit's child?
Lady Kix. Yes, to my much joy!
Every one gets before me; there's my sister
Was married but at Bartholomew Eve last,
And she can have two children at a birth:
O, one of them, one of them, would ha' served my turn!
Sir Ol. Sorrow consume thee! thou'rt still crossing me,
And know'st my nature.
Enter Maid.
Maid. O mistress!—weeping or railing,
That's our house-harmony. [Aside.
Lady Kix. What sayst, Jug?
Maid. The sweetest news!
Lady Kix. What is't, wench?
Maid. Throw down your doctor's drugs,
They're all but heretics; I bring certain remedy,
That has been taught and proved, and never failed.
Sir Ol. O that, that, that, or nothing!
Maid. There's a gentleman,
I haply have his name too, that has got
Nine children by one water that he useth:
It never misses; they come so fast upon him,
He was fain to give it over.
Lady Kix. His name, sweet Jug?
Maid. One Master Touchwood, a fine gentleman,
But run behind-hand much with getting children.
Sir Ol. Is't possible!
Maid. Why, sir, he'll undertake,
Using that water, within fifteen year,
For all your wealth, to make you a poor man,
You shall so swarm with children.
Sir Ol. I'll venture that, i'faith.
Lady Kix. That shall you, husband.
Maid. But I must tell you first, he's very dear.
Sir Ol. No matter, what serves wealth for?
Lady Kix. True, sweet husband;
There's land to come; put case his water stands me
In some five hundred pound a pint,
'Twill fetch a thousand, and a kersten soul,
And that's worth all, sweet husband: I'll about it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Before ALLWIT'S House.
Enter ALLWIT.
Allwit. I'll go bid gossips presently myself,
That's all the work I'll do; nor need I stir,
But that it is my pleasure to walk forth,
And air myself a little: I am tied
To nothing in this business; what I do
Is merely recreation, not constraint.
Here's running to and fro! nurse upon nurse,
Three charwomen, besides maids and neighbours' children.
Fie, what a trouble have I rid my hands on!
It makes me sweat to think on't.
Enter Sir WALTER WHOREHOUND.
Sir Wal. How now, Jack?
Allwit. I'm going to bid gossips for your worship's child, sir;
A goodly girl, i'faith! give you joy on her;
She looks as if she had two thousand pound
To her portion, and run away with a tailor;
A fine plump black-eyed slut: under correction, sir,
I take delight to see her.—Nurse!
Enter Dry Nurse.
Dry N. Do you call, sir?
Allwit. I call not you, I call the wet nurse hither.
[Exit Dry Nurse.
Give me the wet nurse!—
Enter Wet Nurse carrying child.
Ay, 'tis thou; come hither,
Come hither:
Let's see her once again; I cannot choose
But buss her thrice an hour.
Wet N. You may be proud on't, sir;
'Tis the best piece of work that e'er you did.
Allwit. Think'st thou so, nurse? what sayst to Wat and Nick?
Wet N. They're pretty children both, but here's a wench
Will be a knocker.
Allwit. Pup,—sayst thou me so?—pup, little countess!—
Faith, sir, I thank your worship for this girl
Ten thousand times and upward.
Sir Wal. I am glad
I have her for you, sir.
Allwit. Here, take her in, nurse;
Wipe her, and give her spoon-meat.
Wet N. Wipe your mouth, sir. [Exit with the child.
Allwit. And now about these gossips.
Sir Wal. Get but two;
I'll stand for one myself.
Allwit. To your own child, sir?
Sir Wal. The better policy, it prevents suspicion;
'Tis good to play with rumour at all weapons.
Allwit. Troth, I commend your care, sir; 'tis a thing
That I should ne'er have thought on.
Sir Wal. The more slave:
When man turns base, out goes his soul's pure flame,
The fat of ease o'erthrows the eyes of shame.
Allwit. I'm studying who to get for godmother,
Suitable to your worship. Now I ha' thought on't.
Sir Wal. I'll ease you of that care, and please myself in't—
My love the goldsmith's daughter, if I send,
Her father will command her. [Aside.]—Davy Dahanna!
Enter DAVY.
Allwit. I'll fit your worship then with a male partner.
Sir Wal. What is he?
Allwit. A kind, proper gentleman,
Brother to Master Touchwood.
Sir Wal. I know Touchwood:
Has he a brother living?
Allwit. A neat bachelor.
Sir Wal. Now we know him, we will make shift with him:
Despatch, the time draws near.—Come hither, Davy.
[Exit with DAVY.
Allwit. In troth, I pity him; he ne'er stands still:
Poor knight, what pains he takes! sends this way one,
That way another; has not an hour's leisure:
I would not have thy toil for all thy pleasure.
Enter two Promoters.
Ha, how now? what are these that stand so close
At the street-corner, pricking up their ears
And snuffing up their noses, like rich men's dogs
When the first course goes in? By the mass, promoters;
'Tis so, I hold my life; and planted there
T' arrest the dead corps of poor calves and sheep,
Like ravenous creditors, that will not suffer
The bodies of their poor departed debtors
To go to th' grave, but e'en in death to vex
And stay the corps with bills of Middlesex.
This Lent will fat the whoresons up with sweetbreads,
And lard their whores with lamb-stones: what their golls
Can clutch goes presently to their Molls and Dolls:
The bawds will be so fat with what they earn,
Their chins will hang like udders by Easter-eve,
And, being stroked, will give the milk of witches.
How did the mongrels hear my wife lies in?
Well, I may baffle 'em gallantly. [Aside.]—By your favour, gentlemen,
I am a stranger both unto the city
And to her carnal strictness.
1st Pro. Good; your will, sir?
Allwit. Pray, tell me where one dwells that kills this Lent?
1st Pro. How? kills?—Come hither, Dick; a bird, a bird!
2nd Pro. What is't that you would have?
Allwit. Faith, any flesh;
But I long especially for veal and green-sauce.
1st Pro. Green goose, you shall be sauced. [Aside.
Allwit. I've half a scornful stomach,
No fish will be admitted.
1st Pro. Not this Lent, sir?
Allwit. Lent? what cares colon here for Lent?
1st Pro. You say well, sir;
Good reason that the colon of a gentleman,
As you were lately pleased to term your worship's, sir,
Should be fulfilled with answerable food,
To sharpen blood, delight health, and tickle nature.
Were you directed hither to this street, sir?
Allwit. That I was, ay, marry.
2nd Pro. And the butcher, belike,
Should kill and sell close in some upper room?
Allwit. Some apple-loft, as I take it, or a coal-house;
I know not which i'faith.
2nd Pro. Either will serve:
This butcher shall kiss Newgate, 'less he turn up
The bottom of the pocket of his apron.— [Aside.
You go to seek him?
Allwit. Where you shall not find him:
I'll buy, walk by your noses with my flesh,
Sheep-biting mongrels, hand-basket freebooters!
My wife lies in—a foutra for promoters! [Exit.
1st Pro. That shall not serve your turn.—What a rogue's this!
How cunningly he came over us!
Enter Man with a basket under his cloak.
2nd Pro. Hush't, stand close!
Man. I have 'scaped well thus far; they say the knaves
Are wondrous hot and busy.
1st Pro. By your leave, sir,
We must see what you have under your cloak there.
Man. Have? I have nothing.
1st Pro. No? do you tell us that? what makes this lump
Stick out then? we must see, sir.
Man. What will you see, sir?
A pair of sheets and two of my wife's foul smocks
Going to the washers.
2nd Pro. O, we love that sight well!
You cannot please us better. What, do you gull us?
Call you these shirts and smocks?
[Seizes basket and takes out of it a piece of meat.
Man. Now, a pox choke you!
You've cozened me and five of my wife's kindred
Of a good dinner; we must make it up now
With herrings and milk-pottage [Exit.
1st Pro. 'Tis all veal.
2nd Pro. All veal?
Pox, the worse luck! I promised faithfully
To send this morning a fat quarter of lamb
To a kind gentlewoman in Turnbull Street
That longs, and how I'm crost!
1st Pro. Let us share this, and see what hap comes next then.
2nd Pro. Agreed. Stand close again, another booty:
Enter Man with a basket.
What's he?
1st Pro. Sir, by your favour.
Man. Meaning me, sir?
1st Pro. Good Master Oliver? cry thee mercy i'faith!
What hast thou there?
Man. A rack of mutton, sir,
And half a lamb; you know my mistress' diet.
1st Pro. Go, go, we see thee not; away, keep close!—
Heart, let him pass! thou'lt never have the wit
To know our benefactors.
2nd Pro. I have forgot him.
1st Pro. 'Tis Master Beggarland's man, the wealthy merchant,
That is in fee with us.
2nd Pro. Now I've a feeling of him. [Exit Man.
1st Pro. You know he purchased the whole Lent together,
Gave us ten groats a-piece on Ash Wednesday.
2nd Pro. True, true.
1st Pro. A wench!
2nd Pro. Why, then, stand close indeed.
Enter Country Girl with a basket.
C. Girl. Women had need of wit, if they'll shift here,
And she that hath wit may shift anywhere. [Aside.
1st Pro. Look, look! poor fool, sh'as left the rump uncovered too,
More to betray her! this is like a murderer
That will outface the deed with a bloody band.
2nd Pro. What time of the year is't, sister?
C. Girl. O sweet gentlemen!
I'm a poor servant, let me go.
1st Pro. You shall, wench,
But this must stay with us.
C. Girl. O you undo me, sir!
'Tis for a wealthy gentlewoman that takes physic, sir;
The doctor does allow my mistress mutton.
O, as you tender the dear life of a gentlewoman!
I'll bring my master to you; he shall show you
A true authority from the higher powers,
And I'll run every foot.
2nd Pro. Well, leave your basket then,
And run and spare not.
C. Girl. Will you swear then to me
To keep it till I come?
1st Pro. Now by this light I will.
C. Girl. What say you, gentlemen?
2nd Pro. What a strange wench 'tis!—
Would we might perish else.
C. Girl. Nay, then I run, sir.
[Leaves the basket, and exit.
1st Pro. And ne'er return, I hope.
2nd Pro. A politic baggage! she makes us swear to keep it;
I prithee look what market she hath made.
1st Pro. Imprimis, sir, a good fat loin of mutton.
[Taking out a loin of mutton.
What comes next under this cloth? now for a quarter
Of lamb.
2nd Pro. No, for a shoulder of mutton.
1st Pro. Done!
2nd Pro. Why, done, sir!
1st Pro. By the mass, I feel I've lost
'Tis of more weight, i'faith.
2nd Pro. Some loin of veal?
1st Pro. No, faith, here's a lamb's head, I feel that plainly;
Why, I'll yet win my wager.
2nd Pro. Ha!
1st Pro. 'Swounds, what's here! [Taking out a child.
2nd Pro. A child!
1st Pro. A pox of all dissembling cunning whores!
2nd Pro. Here's an unlucky breakfast!
1st Pro. What shall's do?
2nd Pro. The quean made us swear to keep it too.
1st Pro. We might leave it else.
2nd Pro. Villainous strange!
Life, had she none to gull but poor promoters,
That watch hard for a living?
1st Pro. Half our gettings
Must run in sugar-sops and nurses' wages now,
Besides many a pound of soap and tallow;
We've need to get loins of mutton still, to save
Suet to change for candles.
2nd Pro. Nothing mads me
But this was a lamb's head with you; you felt it:
She has made calves' heads of us.
1st Pro. Prithee, no more on't;
There's time to get it up; it is not come
To Mid-Lent Sunday yet.
2nd Pro. I am so angry,
I'll watch no more to-day.
1st Pro. Faith, nor I neither.
2nd Pro. Why, then, I'll make a motion.
1st Pro. Well, what is't?
2nd Pro. Let's e'en go to the Checker at Queen-hive,
And roast the loin of mutton till young flood;
Then send the child to Branford. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Hall in ALLWIT'S House.
Enter ALLWIT in one of Sir WALTER'S suits, and DAVY trussing
him.
Allwit. 'Tis a busy day at our house, Davy.
Davy. Always the kursning day, sir.
Allwit. Truss, truss me, Davy.
Davy. No matter an you were hanged, sir. [Aside.
Allwit. How does this suit fit me, Davy?
Davy. Excellent neatly;
My master's things were ever fit for you, sir,
E'en to a hair, you know.
Allwit. Thou'st hit it right, Davy:
We ever jumped in one this ten years, Davy;
So, well said.—
Enter Man with a box.
What art thou?
Man. Your comfit-maker's man, sir.
Allwit. O sweet youth!
In to the nurse, quick, quick, 'tis time, i'faith.
Your mistress will be here?
Man. She was setting forth, sir. [Exit.
Allwit. Here comes our gossips now: O, I shall have
Such kissing work to-day.—
Enter two Puritans.
Sweet Mistress Underman
Welcome, i'faith.
1st Pur. Give you joy of your fine girl, sir:
Grant that her education may be pure,
And become one of the faithful!
Allwit. Thanks to your sisterly wishes, Mistress Underman.
2nd Pur. Are any of the brethren's wives yet come?
Allwit. There are some wives within, and some at home.
1st Pur. Verily, thanks, sir. [Exeunt Puritans.
Allwit. Verily you're an ass, forsooth:
I must fit all these times, or there's no music.
Here comes a friendly and familiar pair:
Enter two Gossips.
Now I like these wenches well.
1st Gos. How dost, sirrah?
Allwit. Faith, well, I thank you, neighbour;—and how dost thou?
2nd Gos. Want nothing but such getting, sir, as thine.
Allwit. My gettings, wench? they're poor.
1st Gos. Fie, that thou'It say so;
Thou'st as fine children as a man can get.
Davy. Ay, as a man can get, and that's my master.
[Aside.
Allwit. They're pretty foolish things, put to making in minutes,
I ne'er stand long about'em. Will you walk in, wenches?
[Exeunt Gossips.
Enter TOUCHWOOD junior and MOLL.
Touch. jun. The happiest meeting that our souls could wish for!
Here is the ring ready; I'm beholden
Unto your father's haste, has kept his hour.
Moll. He never kept it better.
Enter Sir WALTER WHOREHOUND.
Touch. jun. Back, be silent.
Sir Wal. Mistress and partner, I will put you both Into one cup.
Davy. Into one cup? most proper;
A fitting compliment for a goldsmith's daughter. [Aside.
Allwit. Yes, sir, that's he must be your worship's partner
In this day's business, Master Touchwood's brother.
Sir Wal. I embrace your acquaintance, sir.
Touch. jun. It vows your service, sir.
Sir Wal. It's near high time; come, Master Allwit.
Allwit. Ready, sir.
Sir Wal. Wilt please you walk?
Touch. jun. Sir, I obey your time. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Before ALLWIT'S House.
Enter from the house Midwife with the child, LADY KIX and other
Gossips, who exeunt; then MAUDLIN, Puritans, and other Gossips.
1st Gos. Good Mistress Yellowhammer_____
Maud. In faith, I will not.
1st Gos. Indeed it shall be yours.
Maud. I have sworn, i'faith.
1st Gos. I'll stand still then.
Maud. So, will you let the child
Go without company, and make me forsworn?
1st Gos. You are such another creature!
[Exeunt 1st Gossip and MAUDLIN.
2nd Gos. Before me?
I pray come down a little.
3rd Gos. Not a whit;
I hope I know my place.
2nd Gos. Your place? great wonder, sure!
Are you any better than a comfit-maker's wife?
3rd Gos. And that's as good at all times as a pothecary's.
2nd Gos. Ye lie! yet I forbear you too.
[Exeunt 2nd and 3rd Gossips.
1st Pur. Come, sweet sister; we go
In unity, and show the fruits of peace,
Like children of the spirit.
2nd Pur. I love lowliness. [Exeunt Puritans.
4th Gos. True, so say I, though they strive more;
There comes as proud behind as goes before.
5th Gos. Every inch, i'faith. [Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE 1.
A Room in TOUCHWOOD junior's lodgings.
Enter TOUCHWOOD junior and Parson.
TOUCH. JUN. O sir, if e'er you felt the force of love,
Pity it in me!
Par. Yes, though I ne'er was married, sir,
I've felt the force of love from good men's daughters,
And some that will be maids yet three years hence.
Have you got a license?
Touch. jun. Here, 'tis ready, sir.
Par. That's well.
Touch. jun. The ring, and all things perfect; she'll steal hither.
Par. She shall be welcome, sir; I'll not be long A clapping you
together.
Touch. jun. O, here she's come, sir!
Enter MOLL and TOUCHWOOD senior.
Par. What's he?
Touch. jun. My honest brother.
Touch. sen. Quick, make haste, sirs!
Moll. You must despatch with all the speed you can,
For I shall be missed straight; I made hard shift
For this small time I have.
Par. Then I'll not linger,
Place that ring upon her finger:
[TOUCHWOOD junior puts ring on MOLL'S finger.
This the finger plays the part,
Whose master-vein shoots from the heart:
Now join hands—
Enter YELLOWHAMMER and Sir W. WHOREHOUND.
Yel. Which I will sever,
And so ne'er again meet, never!
Moll. O, we're betrayed!
Touch. jun. Hard fate!
Sir Wal. I'm struck with wonder!
Yel. Was this the politic fetch, thou mystical baggage,
Thou disobedient strumpet!—And were you
So wise to send for her to such an end?
Sir Wal. Now I disclaim the end; you'll make me mad.
Yel. And what are you, sir?
Touch. jun. An you cannot see
With those two glasses, put on a pair more.
Yel. I dreamed of anger still.—Here, take your ring, sir,—
[Taking ring off MOLL'S finger.
Ha! this? life, 'tis the same! abominable!
Did not I sell this ring?
Touch. jun. I think you did;
You received money for't.
Yel. Heart, hark you, knight;
Here's no unconscionable villainy!
Set me a-work to make the wedding-ring,
And come with an intent to steal my daughter!
Did ever runaway match it!
Sir Wal. This your brother, sir?
Touch. sen. He can tell that as well as I.
Yel. The very posy mocks me to my face,—
"Love that's wise
Blinds parents' eyes."
I thank your wisdom, sir, for blinding of us;
We've good hope to recover our sight shortly:
In the meantime I will lock up this baggage
As carefully as my gold; she shall see
As little sun, if a close room or so
Can keep her from the light on't.
Moll. O sweet father,
For love's sake, pity me!
Yel. Away!
Moll. Farewell, sir;
All content bless thee! and take this for comfort,
Though violence keep me, thou canst lose me never,
I'm ever thine, although we part for ever.
Yel. Ay, we shall part you, minx. [Exit with MOLL.
Sir Wal. Your acquaintance, sir,
Came very lately, yet came too soon;
I must hereafter know you for no friend,
But one that I must shun like pestilence,
Or the disease of lust.
Touch. jun. Like enough, sir;
You ha' ta'en me at the worst time for words
That e'er ye picked out: faith, do not wrong me, sir.
[Exit with Parson.
Touch. sen. Look after him, and spare not: there he walks
That ne'er yet received baffling: you are blest
More than ever I knew; go, take your rest. [Exit.
Sir Wal. I pardon you, you are both losers. [Exit.
SCENE II.
A Bedchamber; Mistress ALLWIT discovered in bed.
Enter Midwife with the child, LADY KIX, MAUDLIN, Puritans, and other
Gossips.
1st Gos. How is it, woman? we have brought you home
A kursen soul.
Mis. All. Ay, I thank your pains.
1st Par. And, verily, well kursened, i' the right way,
Without idolatry or superstition,
After the pure manner of Amsterdam.
Mis. All. Sit down, good neighbours.—Nurse.
Nurse. At hand, forsooth.
Mis. All. Look they have all low stools.
Nurse. They have, forsooth.
[All the Gossips seat themselves.
2nd Gos. Bring the child hither, nurse.—How say you now, gossip,
Is't not a chopping girl? so like the father.
3rd Gos. As if it had been spit out of his mouth!
Eyed, nosed, and browed, as like as a girl can be,
Only, indeed, it has the mother's mouth.
2nd Gos. The mother's mouth up and down, up and down.
3rd Gos. 'Tis a large child, she's but a little woman.
1st Pur. No, believe me,
A very spiny creature, but all heart;
Well mettled, like the faithful, to endure
Her tribulation here, and raise up seed.
2nd Gos. She had a sore labour on't, I warrant you;
You can tell, neighbour?
3rd Gos. O, she had great speed;
We were afraid once, but she made us all
Have joyful hearts again; 'tis a good soul, i'faith;
The midwife found her a most cheerful daughter.
1st Pur. 'Tis the spirit; the sisters are all like her.
Enter Sir WALTER WHOREHOUND, carrying a silver standing-cup and two
spoons, and ALLWIT.
2nd Gos. O, here comes the chief gossip, neighbours!
[Exit Nurse.
Sir Wal. The fatness of your wishes to you all, ladies!
3rd Gos. O dear, sweet gentleman, what fine words he has!
The fatness of our wishes!
2nd Gos. Calls us all ladies!
4th Gos. I promise you, a fine gentleman and a courteous.
2nd Gos. Methinks her husband shows like a clown to him.
3rd Gos. I would not care what clown my husband were too,
So I had such fine children.
2nd Gos. Sh'as all fine children, gossip.
3rd Gos. Ay, and see how fast they come!
1st Pur. Children are blessings,
If they be got with zeal by the brethren,
As I have five at home.
Sir Wal. The worst is past,
I hope, now, gossip.
Mis. All. So I hope too, good sir.
Allwit. What, then, so hope I too, for company;
I've nothing to do else.
Sir Wal. A poor remembrance, lady,
To the love of the babe; I pray, accept of it.
[Giving cup and spoon.
Mis. All. O, you are at too much charge, sir!
2nd Gos. Look, look, what has he given her? what is't, gossip?
3rd Gos. Now, by my faith, a fair high standing-cup
And two great 'postle-spoons, one of them gilt.
1st Pur. Sure that was Judas then with the red beard.
2nd Pur. I would not feed
My daughter with that spoon for all the world,
For fear of colouring her hair; red hair
The brethren like not, it consumes them much;
'Tis not the sisters' colour.
Re-enter Nurse with comfits and wine.
Allwit. Well said, nurse;
About, about with them among the gossips!
[Nurse hands about the comfits.
Now out comes all the tasselled handkerchers,
They're spread abroad between their knees already;
Now in goes the long fingers that are washed
Some thrice a day in urine; my wife uses it.
Now we shall have such pocketing; see how
They lurch at the lower end! [Aside.
1st Pur. Come hither, nurse.
Allwit. Again? she has taken twice already. [Aside.
1st Pur. I had forgot a sister's child that's sick.
[Taking comfits.
Allwit. A pox! it seems your purity
Loves sweet things well that puts in thrice together.
Had this been all my cost now, I'd been beggared;
These women have no consciences at sweetmeats,
Where'er they come; see an they've not culled out
All the long plums too, they've left nothing here
But short wriggle-tail comfits, not worth mouthing:
No mar'l I heard a citizen complain once
That his wife's belly only broke his back;
Mine had been all in fitters seven years since,
But for this worthy knight,
That with a prop upholds my wife and me,
And all my estate buried in Bucklersbury. [Aside.
Mis. All. Here, Mistress Yellowhammer, and neighbours,
To you all that have taken pains with me,
All the good wives at once!
[Drinks; after which Nurse hands round the wine.
1st Pur. I'll answer for them;
They wish all health and strength, and that you may
Courageously go forward, to perform
The like and many such, like a true sister,
With motherly bearing. [Drinks.
Allwit. Now the cups troll about
To wet the gossips' whistles; it pours down, i'faith;
They never think of payment. [Aside.
1st Pur. Fill again, nurse. [Drinks.
Allwit. Now bless thee, two at once! I'll stay no longer;
It would kill me, an I paid for it.— [Aside.
Will't please you to walk down, and leave the women?
Sir Wal. With all my heart, Jack.
Allwit. Troth, I cannot blame you.
Sir Wal. Sit you all merry, ladies.
Gossips. Thank your worship, sir.
1st Pur. Thank your worship, sir.
Allwit. A pox twice tipple ye, you're last and lowest!
[Aside.
[Exeunt Sir W. WHOREHOUND and ALLWIT.
1st Pur. Bring hither that same cup, nurse; I would fain
Drive away this—hup—antichristian grief. [Drinks.
3rd Gos. See, gossip, an she lies not in like a countess;
Would I had such a husband for my daughter!
4th Gos. Is not she toward marriage?
3rd Gos. O no, sweet gossip!
4th Gos. Why, she's nineteen.
3rd Gos. Ay, that she was last Lammas;
But she has a fault, gossip, a secret fault.
4th Gos. A fault? what is't?
3rd Gos. I'll tell you when I've drunk. [Drinks.
4th Gos. Wine can do that, I see, that friendship cannot. [Aside.
3rd Gos. And now, I'll tell you, gossip; she's too free.
[Exit Nurse.
4th Gos. Too free?
3rd Gos. O ay, she cannot lie dry in her bed.
4th Gos. What, and nineteen?
3rd Gos. 'Tis as I tell you, gossip.
Re-enter Nurse, and whispers MAUDLIN.
Maud. Speak with me, nurse? who is't?
Nurse. A gentleman
From Cambridge; I think it be your son, forsooth.
Maud. 'Tis my son Tim, i'faith; prithee, call him up
Among the women, 'twill embolden him well,—
[Exit Nurse.
For he wants nothing but audacity.
Would the Welsh gentlewoman at home were here now!
[Aside.
Lady Kix. Is your son come, forsooth?
Maud. Yes, from the university, forsooth.
Lady Kix. 'Tis great joy on ye.
Maud. There's a great marriage
Towards for him.
Lady Kix. A marriage?
Maud. Yes, sure,
A huge heir in Wales at least to nineteen mountains.
Besides her goods and cattle.
Re-enter Nurse with TIM.
Tim. O, I'm betrayed! [Exit.
Maud. What, gone again?—Run after him, good nurse;
He is so bashful, that's the spoil of youth: [Exit Nurse.
In the university they're kept still to men,
And ne'er trained up to women's company.
Lady Kix. 'Tis a great spoil of youth indeed.
Re-enter Nurse and TIM.
Nurse. Your mother will have it so.
Maud. Why, son! why Tim!
What, must I rise and fetch you? for shame, son!
Tim. Mother, you do intreat like a fresh-woman;
'Tis against the laws of the university
For any that has answered under bachelor
To thrust 'mongst married wives.
Maud. Come, we'll excuse you here.
Tim. Call up my tutor, mother, and I care not.
Maud. What, is your tutor come? have you brought him up?
Tim. I ha' not brought him up, he stands at door;
Negatur, there's logic to begin with you, mother.
Maud. Run, call the gentleman, nurse; he's my son's
tutor.—[Exit Nurse.
Here, eat some plums. [Offers comfits.
Tim. Come I from Cambridge,
And offer me six plums?
Maud. Why, how now, Tim?
Will not your old tricks yet be left?
Tim. Served like a child,
When I have answered under bachelor!
Maud. You'll ne'er lin till I make your tutor whip you;
You know how I served you once at the free-school
In Paul's Churchyard?
Tim. O monstrous absurdity!
Ne'er was the like in Cambridge since my time;
'Life, whip a bachelor! you'd be laughted at soundly;
Let not my tutor hear you, 'twould be a jest
Through the whole university. No more words, mother.
Re-enter Nurse with Tutor.
Maud. Is this your tutor, Tim?
Tutor. Yes, surely, lady,
I am the man that brought him in league with logic,
And read the Dunces to him.
Tim. That did he, mother;
But now I have 'em all in my own pate,
And can as well read 'em to others.
Tutor. That can he,
Mistress, for they flow naturally from him.
Maud. I am the more beholding to your pains, sir.
Tutor. Non ideo sane.
Maud. True, he was an idiot indeed
When he went out of London, but now he's well mended.
Did you receive the two goose-pies I sent you?
Tutor. And eat them heartily, thanks to your worship.
Maud. 'Tis my son Tim; I pray bid him welcome, gentlewomen.
Tim. Tim? hark you, Timotheus, mother, Timotheus.
Maud. How, shall I deny your name? Timotheus, quoth he!
Faith there's a name!—'Tis my son Tim, forsooth.
Lady Kix. You're welcome, master Tim. [Kisses TIM.
Tim. O this is horrible,
She wets as she kisses! [Aside.]—Your handkercher, sweet tutor,
To wipe them off as fast as they come on.
2nd Gos. Welcome from Cambridge. [Kisses TIM.
Tim. This is intolerable!
This woman has a villainous sweet breath,
Did she not stink of comfits. [Aside.]—Help me, sweet tutor,
Or I shall rub my lips off!
Tutor. I'll go kiss
The lower end the whilst.
Tim. Perhaps that's the sweeter,
And we shall despatch the sooner.
1st Pur. Let me come next:
Welcome from the wellspring of discipline,
That waters all the brethren.
[Attempts to kiss TIM, but reels and falls.
Tim. Hoist, I beseech thee!
3rd Gos. O bless the woman!—Mistress Underman—
[They raise her up.
1st Pur. 'Tis but the common affliction of the faithful;
We must embrace our falls.
Tim. I'm glad I escaped it;
It was some rotten kiss sure, it dropt down
Before it came at me.
Re-enter ALLWIT with DAVY.
Allwit. Here is a noise! not parted yet? heyday,
A looking-glass!—They've drunk so hard in plate,
That some of them had need of other vessels.—[Aside.
Yonder's the bravest show!
Gossips. Where, where, sir?
Allwit. Come along presently by the Pissing-conduit,
With two brave drums and a standard-bearer.
Gossips. O brave!
Tim. Come, tutor. [Exit with Tutor.
Gossips. Farewell, sweet gossip!
Mis. All. I thank you all for your pains.
1st Pur. Feed and grow strong.
[Exeunt Lady KIX, MAUDLIN, and all the Gossips.
Allwit. You had more need to sleep than eat;
Go take a nap with some of the brethren, go,
And rise up a well-edified, boldified sister.
O, here's a day of toil well passed over,
Able to make a citizen hare-mad!
How hot they've made the room with their thick bums!
Dost not feel it, Davy?
Davy. Monstrous strong, sir.
Allwit. What's here under the stools?
Davy. Nothing but wet, sir;
Some wine spilt here belike.
Allwit. Is't no worse, think'st thou?
Fair needlework stools cost nothing with them, Davy.
Davy. Nor you neither, i'faith. [Aside.
Allwit. Look how they have laid them,
E'en as they lie themselves, with their heels up!
How they have shuffled up the rushes too, Davy,
With their short figging little shittle-cock heels!
These women can let nothing stand as they find it.
But what's the secret thou'st about to tell me,
My honest Davy?
Davy. If you should disclose it, sir_____
Allwit. 'Life, rip my belly up to the throat then, Davy!
Davy. My master's upon marriage.
Allwit. Marriage, Davy?
Send me to hanging rather.
Davy. I have stung him! [Aside.
Allwit. When? where? what is she, Davy?
Davy. Even the same was gossip, and gave the spoon.
Allwit. I have no time to stay, nor scarce can speak:
I'll stop those wheels, or all the work will break. [Exit.
Davy. I knew 'twould prick. Thus do I fashion still
All mine own ends by him and his rank toil:
'Tis my desire to keep him still from marriage;
Being his poor nearest kinsman, I may fare
The better at his death; there my hopes build,
Since my Lady Kix is dry, and hath no child. [Exit.
SCENE III.
A Room in Sir OLIVER KIX'S House.
Enter TOUCHWOOD senior and TOUCHWOOD junior.
Touch. jun. You're in the happiest way t' enrich yourself
And pleasure me, brother, as man's feet can tread in;
For though she be locked up, her vow is fixed
Only to me; then time shall never grieve me,
For by that vow e'en absent I enjoy her,
Assuredly confirmed that none else shall,
Which will make tedious years seem gameful to me:
In the mean space, lose you no time, sweet brother;
You have the means to strike at this knight's fortunes,
And lay him level with his bankrout merit;
Get but his wife with child, perch at tree-top,
And shake the golden fruit into her lap;
About it before she weep herself to a dry ground,
And whine out all her goodness.
Touch. sen. Prithee, cease;
I find a too much aptness in my blood
For such a business, without provocation;
You might well spared this banquet of eringoes,
Artichokes, potatoes, and your buttered crab;
They were fitter kept for your wedding-dinner.
Touch. jun. Nay, an you'll follow my suit, and save my purse too,
Fortune doats on me: he's in happy case
Finds such an honest friend i' the common-place.
Touch. sen. Life, what makes thee so merry? thou'st no cause
That I could hear of lately since thy crosses,
Unless there be news come with new additions.
Touch. jun. Why, there thou hast it right; I look for her
This evening, brother.
Touch. sen. How's that? look for her?
Touch. jun. I will deliver you of the wonder straight, brother:
By the firm secrecy and kind assistance
Of a good wench i' the house, who, made of pity,
Weighing the case her own, she's led through gutters,
Strange hidden ways, which none but love could find,
Or ha' the heart to venture: I expect her
Where you would little think.
Touch. sen. I care not where,
So she be safe, and yours.
Touch. jun. Hope tells me so;
But from your love and time my peace must grow.
Touch. sen. You know the worst then, brother.
[Exit TOUCHWOOD jun.]—Now to my Kix,
The barren he and she; they're i' the next room;
But to say which of their two humours hold them
Now at this instant, I cannot say truly.
Sir Ol. [within.] Thou liest, barrenness!
Touch. sen. O, is't that time of day? give you joy of your tongue,
There's nothing else good in you: this their life
The whole day, from eyes open to eyes shut,
Kissing or scolding, and then must be made friends;
Then rail the second part of the first fit out,
And then be pleased again, no man knows which way:
Fall out like giants, and fall in like children;
Their fruit can witness as much.
Enter Sir OLIVER KIX and Lady KIX.
Sir Ol. 'Tis thy fault.
Lady Kix. Mine, drouth and coldness?
Sir Ol. Thine; 'tis thou art barren.
Lady Kix. I barren? O life, that I durst but speak now
In mine own justice, in mine own right! I barren?
'Twas otherwise with me when I was at court;
I was ne'er called so till I was married.
Sir Ol. I'll be divorced.
Lady Kix. Be hanged! I need not wish it,
That will come too soon to thee: I may say
Marriage and hanging goes by destiny,
For all the goodness I can find in't yet.
Sir Ol. I'll give up house, and keep some fruitful whore,
Like an old bachelor, in a tradesman's chamber;
She and her children shall have all.
Lady Kix. Where be they?
Touch. sen. Pray, cease;
When there are friendlier courses took for you,
To get and multiply within your house
At your own proper costs, in spite of censure,
Methinks an honest peace might be established.
Sir Ol. What, with her? never.
Touch. sen. Sweet sir_____
Sir Ol. You work all in vain.
Lady Kix. Then he doth all like thee.
Touch. sen. Let me entreat, sir_____
Sir Ol. Singleness confound her!
I took her with one smock.
Lady Kix. But, indeed, you
Came not so single when you came from shipboard.
Sir Ol. Heart, she bit sore there! [Aside.]—Prithee, make us
friends.
Touch. sen. Is't come to that? the peal begins to cease. [Aside.
Sir Ol. I'll sell all at an out-cry.
Lady Kix. Do thy worst, slave!—
Good, sweet sir, bring us into love again.
Touch. sen. Some would think this impossible to compass.—
[Aside.
Pray, let this storm fly over.
Sir Ol. Good sir, pardon me;
I'm master of this house, which I'll sell presently;
I'll clap up bills this evening.
Touch. sen. Lady, friends, come!
Lady Kix. If ever ye loved woman, talk not on't, sir:
What, friends with him? good faith, do you think I'm mad?
With one that's scarce th' hinder quarter of a man?
Sir Ol. Thou art nothing of a woman.
Lady Kix. Would I were less than nothing! [Weeps.
Sir Ol. Nay, prithee, what dost mean?
Lady Kix. I cannot please you.
Sir Ol. I'faith, thou'rt a good soul; he lies that says it;
Buss, buss, pretty rogue. [Kisses her.
Lady Kix. You care not for me.
Touch. sen. Can any man tell now which way they came in?
By this light, I'll be hanged then! [Aside.
Sir Ol. Is the drink come?
Touch. sen. Here is a little vial of almond-milk—
That stood me in some threepence. [Aside.
Sir Ol. I hope to see thee, wench, within these few years,
Circled with children, pranking up a girl,
And putting jewels in her little ears;
Fine sport, i'faith!
Lady Kix. Ay, had you been aught, husband,
It had been done ere this time.
Sir Ol. Had I been aught?
Hang thee, hadst thou been aught! but a cross thing
I ever found thee.
Lady Kix. Thou'rt a grub, to say so.
Sir Ol. A pox on thee!
Touch. sen. By this light, they're out again
At the same door, and no man can tell which way!
[Aside.
Come, here's your drink, sir.
Sir Ol. I'll not take it now, sir,
An I were sure to get three boys ere midnight.
Lady Kix. Why, there thou show'st now of what breed thou com'st
To hinder generation: O thou villain,
That knows how crookedly the world goes with us
For want of heirs, yet put by all good fortune!
Sir Ol. Hang, strumpet! I will take it now in spite.
Touch. sen. Then you must ride upon't five hours.
[Gives vial to Sir OLIVER.
Sir Ol. I mean so.—
Within there!
Enter Servant.
Ser. Sir?
Sir Ol. Saddle the white mare: [Exit Servant.
I'll take a whore along, and ride to Ware.
Lady Kix. Ride to the devil!
Sir Ol. I'll plague you every way:
Look ye, do you see? 'tis gone. [Drinks.
Lady Kix. A pox go with it!
Sir Ol. Ay, curse, and spare not now.
Touch. sen. Stir up and down, sir;
You must not stand.
Sir Ol. Nay, I'm not given to standing.
Touch. sen. So much the better, sir, for the_____
Sir Ol. I never could stand long in one place yet;
I learnt it of my father, ever figient.
How if I crossed this, sir? [Capers.
Touch. sen. O, passing good, sir,
And would show well 'a horseback: when you come to your inn,
If you leapt over a joint-stool or two,
'Twere not amiss—although you brake your neck, sir.
[Aside.
Sir Ol. What say you to a table thus high, sir?
Touch. sen. Nothing better, sir, if't be furnished with good
victuals.
You remember how the bargain runs 'bout this business?
Sir Ol. Or else I had a bad head: you must receive, sir,
Four hundred pounds of me at four several payments;
One hundred pound now in hand.
Touch. sen. Right, that I have, sir.
Sir Ol. Another hundred when my wife is quick;
The third when she's brought a-bed; and the last hundred
When the child cries, for if't should be still-born,
It doth no good, sir.
Touch. sen. All this is even still:
A little faster, sir.
Sir Ol. Not a whit, sir;
I'm in an excellent pace for any physic.
Re-enter Servant.
Ser. Your white mare's ready.
Sir Ol. I shall up presently.— [Exit Servant.
One kiss and farewell. [Kisses her.
Lady Kix. Thou shalt have two, love.
Sir Ol. Expect me about three.
Lady Kix. With all my heart, sweet.
[Exit Sir OLIVER KIX.
Touch. sen. By this light, they've forgot their anger since,
And are as far in again as e'er they were!
Which way the devil came they? heart, I saw 'em not!
Their ways are beyond finding out. [Aside.]—Come, sweet lady.
Lady Kix. How must I take mine, sir?
Touch. sen. Clean contrary;
Yours must be taken lying.
Lady Kix. A-bed, sir?
Touch. sen. A-bed, or where you will, for your own ease;
Your coach will serve.
Lady Kix. The physic must needs please. [Exeunt.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
A Room in YELLOWHAMMER'S House.
Enter TIM and Tutor.
Tim. Negatur argumentum, tutor.
Tutor. Pro tibi, pupil, stultus non est animal rationale.
Tim. Falleris sane.
Tutor. Quæso ut taceas,—probo tibi_____
Tim. Quomodo probas, domine?
Tutor. Stultus non habet rationem, ergo non est animal rationale.
Tim. Sic argumentaris, domine; stultus non habet rationem, ergo non est
animal rationale; negatur argumentum again, tutor.
Tutor. Argumentum iterum probo tibi, domine; qui non participat de
ratione, nullo modo potest vocari rationalis; but stultus non participat
de
ratione, ergo stultus nullo modo potest dici rationalis.
Tim. Participat.
Tutor. Sic disputas; qui participat, quomodo participat?
Tim. Ut homo, probabo tibi in syllogismo.
Tutor. Hunc proba.
Tim. Sic probo, domine; stultus est homo, sicut tu et ego sumus; homo est
animal rationale, sicut stultus est animal rationale.
Enter MAUDLIN.
Maud. Here's nothing but disputing all the day long with 'em!
Tutor. Sic disputas; stultus est homo, sicut tu et ego sumus; homo est
animal rationale, sicut stultus est animal rationale.
Maud. Your reasons are both good, whate'er they be.
Pray, give them over; faith, you'll tire yourselves;
What's the matter between you?
Tim. Nothing but reasoning
About a fool, mother.
Maud. About a fool, son?
Alas, what need you trouble your heads 'bout that!
None of us all but knows what a fool is.
Tim. Why, what's a fool, mother? I come to you now.
Maud. Why, one that's married before he has wit.
Tim. 'Tis pretty, i'faith, and well guessed of a woman never brought
up
at the university; but bring forth what fool you will, mother, I'll prove him t
o
be as reasonable a creature as myself or my tutor here.
Maud. Fie, 'tis impossible!
Tutor. Nay, he shall do't, forsooth.
Tim. 'Tis the easiest thing to prove a fool by logic;
By logic I'll prove anything.
Maud. What, thou wilt not?
Tim. I'll prove a whore to be an honest woman.
Maud. Nay, by my faith, she must prove that herself,
Or logic will ne'er do't.
Tim. 'Twill do't, I tell you.
Maud. Some in this street would give a thousand pounds
That you could prove their wives so.
Tim. Faith, I can,
And all their daughters too, though they had three bastards.
When comes your tailor hither?
Maud. Why, what of him?
Tim. By logic I'll prove him to be a man,
Let him come when he will.
Maud. How hard at first
Was learning to him! truly, sir, I thought
He would never 'a took the Latin tongue:
How many accidences do you think he wore out
Ere he came to his grammar?
Tutor. Some three or four.
Maud. Believe me, sir, some four and thirty.
Tim. Pish, I made haberdines of 'em in church-porches.
Maud. He was eight years in his grammar, and stuck horribly
At a foolish place there, call'd as in præsenti.
Tim. Pox, I have it here now.
Maud. He so shamed me once,
Before an honest gentleman that knew me
When I was a maid.
Tim. These women must have all out!
Maud. Quid est grammatica? says the gentleman to him,—
I shall remember by a sweet, sweet token,—
But nothing could he answer.
Tutor. How now, pupil, ha?
Quid est grammatica?
Tim. Grammatica? ha, ha, ha!
Maud. Nay, do not laugh, son, but let me hear you say't now:
There was one word went so prettily off
The gentleman's tongue, I shall remember it
The longest day of my life.
Tutor. Come, quid est grammatica?
Tim. Are you not ashamed, tutor, grammatica?
Why, recte scribendi atque loquendi ars,
Sir-reverence of my mother.
Maud. That was it, i'faith: why now, son,
I see you're a deep scholar:—and, master tutor,
A word, I pray; let us withdraw a little
Into my husband's chamber; I'll send in
The North Wales gentlewoman to him, she looks for wooing:
I'll put together both, and lock the door.
Tutor. I give great approbation to your conclusion.
[Exeunt MAUDLIN and Tutor.
Tim. I mar'l what this gentlewoman should be
That I should have in marriage; she's a stranger to me;
I wonder what my parents mean, i' faith,
To match me with a stranger so,
A maid that's neither kiff nor kin to me:
'Life, do they think I've no more care of my body
Than to lie with one that I ne'er knew, a mere stranger,
One that ne'er went to school with me neither,
Nor ever play-fellows together?
They're mightily o'erseen in it, methinks.
They say she has mountains to her marriage,
She's full of cattle, some two thousand runts:
Now, what the meaning of these runts should be,
My tutor cannot tell me; I have look'd
In Rider's Dictionary for the letter R,
And there I can hear no tidings of these runts neither;
Unless they should be Romford hogs, I know them not.
Enter Welshwoman.
And here she comes. If I know what to say to her now
In the way of marriage, I'm no graduate:
Methinks, i'faith, 'tis boldly done of her
To come into my chamber, being but a stranger;
She shall not say I am so proud yet but
I'll speak to her; marry, as I will order it,
She shall take no hold of my words, I'll warrant her.
[Welshwoman curtsies.
She looks and makes a curtsy.—
Salve tu quoque, puella pulcherrima; quid vis nescio nec sane curo,—
Tully's own phrase to a heart.
Welsh. I know not what he means: a suitor, quoth'a?
I hold my life he understands no English. [Aside.
Tim. Fertur, mehercule, tu virgo, Walliâ ut opibus abundas maximis.
Welsh. What's this fertur and abundundis?
He mocks me sure, and calls me a bundle of farts.
Tim. I have no Latin word now for their runts;
I'll make some shift or other: [Aside.
Iterum dico, opibus abundas maximis, montibus, et fontibus et ut ita dicam
rontibus; attamen vero homunculus ego sum natura, simul et arte baccalaureus,
lecto profecto non parato.
Welsh. This is most strange: may be he can speak Welsh.
Avedera whee comrage, der due cog foginis.
Tim. Cog foggin? I scorn to cog with her; I'll tell her so too in a
word
near her own language,—Ego non cogo.
Welsh. Rhegosin a whiggin harle ron corid ambro.
Tim. By my faith, she's a good scholar, I see that already;
She has the tongues plain; I hold my life sh'as travelled:
What will folks say? there goes the learned couple!
Faith, if the truth were known, she hath proceeded.
Re-enter MAUDLIN.
Maud. How now? how speeds your business?
Tim. I'm glad
My mother's come to part us. [Aside.
Maud. How do you agree, forsooth?
Welsh. As well as e'er we did before we met.
Maud. How's that?
Welsh. You put me to a man I understand not:
Your son's no Englishman, methinks.
Maud. No Englishman?
Bless my boy, and born i' the heart of London!
Welsh. I ha' been long enough in the chamber with him,
And I find neither Welsh nor English in him.
Maud. Why, Tim, how have you used the gentlewoman?
Tim. As well as a man might do, mother, in modest Latin.
Maud. Latin, fool?
Tim. And she recoiled in Hebrew.
Maud. In Hebrew, fool? 'tis Welsh.
Tim. All comes to one, mother.
Maud. She can speak English too.
Tim. Who told me so much?
Heart, an she can speak English, I'll clap to her;
I thought you'd marry me to a stranger.
Maud. You must forgive him; he's so inured to Latin,
He and his tutor, that he hath quite forgot
To use the Protestant tongue.
Welsh. 'Tis quickly pardoned, forsooth.
Maud. Tim, make amends and kiss her.—
He makes towards you, forsooth. [They kiss.
Tim. O delicious!
One may discover her country by her kissing:
'Tis a true saying, there's nothing tastes so sweet
As your Welsh mutton.—'Twas reported you could sing.
Maud. O, rarely, Tim, the sweetest British songs!
Tim. And 'tis my mind, I swear, before I marry,
I would see all my wife's good parts at once,
To view how rich I were
Maud. Thou shalt hear sweet music, Tim.—
Pray, forsooth.
Welsh. [sings.]
Cupid is Venus' only joy,
But he is a wanton boy,
A very, very wanton boy;
He shoots at ladies' naked breasts,
He is the cause of most men's crests,
I mean upon the forehead,
Invisible but horrid;
'Twas he first thought upon the way
To keep a lady's lips in play.
Why should not Venus chide her son
For the pranks that he hath done,
The wanton pranks that he hath done?
He shoots his fiery darts so thick,
They hurt poor ladies to the quick,
Ah me, with cruel wounding!
His darts are so confounding,
That life and sense would soon decay,
But that he keeps their lips in play.
Can there be any part of bliss
In a quickly fleeting kiss,
A quickly fleeting kiss?
To one's pleasure leisures are but waste,
The slowest kiss makes too much haste,
And lose it ere we find it:
The pleasing sport they only know
That close above and close below.
Tim. I would not change my wife for a kingdom:
I can do somewhat too in my own lodging.
Enter YELLOWHAMMER and ALLWIT.
Yel. Why, well said, Tim! the bells go merrily;
I love such peals a' life.—Wife, lead them in awhile;
Here's a strange gentleman desires private conference.—
[Exeunt MAUDLIN, Welshwoman, and TIM.
You're welcome, sir, the more for your name's sake,
Good Master Yellowhammer: I love my name well:
And which o' the Yellowhammers take you descent from,
If I may be so bold with you? which, I pray?
Allwit. The Yellowhammers in Oxfordshire, near Abingdon.
Yel. And those are the best Yellowhammers, and truest bred;
I came from thence myself, though now a citizen:
I will be bold with you; you are most welcome.
Allwit. I hope the zeal I bring with me shall deserve it.
Yel. I hope no less: what is your will, sir?
Allwit. I understand, by rumours, you've a daughter,
Which my bold love shall henceforth title cousin.
Yel. I thank you for her, sir.
Allwit. I heard of her virtues
And other confirmed graces.
Yel. A plaguy girl, sir!
Allwit. Fame sets her out with richer ornaments
Than you are pleased to boast of; 'tis done modestly:
I hear she's towards marriage.
Yel. You hear truth, sir.
Allwit. And with a knight in town, Sir Walter Whorehound.
Yel. The very same, sir.
Allwit. I'm the sorrier for't.
Yel. The sorrier? why, cousin?
Allwit. 'Tis not too far past, is't?
It may be yet recalled?
Yel. Recalled! why, good sir?
Allwit. Resolve me in that point, ye shall hear from me.
Yel. There's no contract past.
Allwit. I'm very joyful, sir.
Yel. But he's the man must bed her.
Allwit. By no means, coz;
She's quite undone then, and you'll curse the time
That e'er you made the match; he's an arrant whoremaster,
Consumes his time and state_____
Whom in my knowledge he hath kept this seven years;
Nay, coz, another man's wife too.
Yel. O, abominable!
Allwit. Maintains the whole house, apparels the husband,
Pays servants' wages, not so much but_____
Yel. Worse and worse; and doth the husband know this?
Allwit. Knows? ay, and glad he may too, 'tis his living:
As other trades thrive, butchers by selling flesh,
Poulters by vending conies, or the like, coz.
Yel. What an incomparable wittol's this!
Allwit. Tush, what cares he for that? believe me, coz,
No more than I do.
Yel. What a base slave's that!
Allwit. All's one to him; he feeds and takes his ease,
Was ne'er the man that ever broke his sleep
To get a child yet, by his own confession,
And yet his wife has seven.
Yel. What, by Sir Walter?
Allwit. Sir Walter's like to keep 'em and maintain 'em
In excellent fashion; he dares do no less, sir.
Yel. 'Life, has he children too?
Allwit. Children! boys thus high,
In their Cato and Corderius.
Yel. What? you jest, sir?
Allwit. Why, one can make a verse, and now's at Eton College.
Yel. O, this news has cut into my heart, coz!
Allwit. 'Thad eaten nearer, if it had not been prevented:
One Allwit's wife.
Yel. Allwit! 'foot, I have heard of him;
He had a girl kursened lately?
Allwit. Ay, that work
Did cost the knight above a hundred mark.
Yel. I'll mark him for a knave and villain for't;
A thousand thanks and blessings! I have done with him.
Allwit. Ha, ha, ha! this knight will stick by my ribs still;
I shall not lose him yet; no wife will come;
Where'er he woos, I find him still at home:
Ha, ha! [Aside, and exit.
Yel. Well, grant all this, say now his deeds are black,
Pray, what serves marriage but to call him back;
I've kept a whore myself, and had a bastard
By Mistress Anne, in anno_____
I care not who knows it; he's now a jolly fellow,
Has been twice warden; so may his fruit be,
They were but base begot, and so was he.
The knight is rich, he shall be my son-in-law;
No matter, so the whore he keeps be wholesome,
My daughter takes no hurt then; so let them wed:
I'll have him sweat well ere they go to bed.
Re-enter MAUDLIN.
Maud. O husband, husband!
Yel. How now, Maudlin?
Maud. We are all undone; she's gone, she's gone!
Yel. Again? death, which way?
Maud. Over the houses: lay the water-side,
She's gone for ever else.
Yel. O venturous baggage! [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Room in YELLOWHAMMER'S House.
Enter TIM and Tutor severally.
Tim. Thieves, thieves! my sister's stolen: some thief hath got her:
O how miraculously did my father's plate 'scape!
'Twas all left out, tutor.
Tutor. Is't possible?
Tim. Besides three chains of pearl and a box of coral.
My sister's gone; let's look at Trig-stairs for her;
My mother's gone to lay the common stairs
At Puddle-wharf; and at the dock below
Stands my poor silly father; run, sweet tutor, run!
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Street by the Thames.
Enter TOUCHWOOD senior and TOUCHWOOD junior.
Touch. sen. I had been taken, brother, by eight sergeants,
But for the honest watermen; I'm bound to them;
They are the most requitefull'st people living,
For as they get their means by gentlemen,
They're still the forwardest to help gentlemen:
You heard how one 'scaped out of the Blackfriars,
But a while since, from two or three varlets came
Into the house with all their rapiers drawn,
As if they'd dance the sword-dance on the stage,
With candles in their hands, like chandlers' ghosts;
Whilst the poor gentleman so pursued and banded,
Was by an honest pair of oars safely landed.
Touch. jun. I love them with my heart for't!
Enter several Watermen.
1st W. Your first man, sir.
2nd W. Shall I carry you, gentlemen, with a pair of oars?
Touch. sen. These be the honest fellows: take one pair,
And leave the rest for her.
Touch. jun. Barn Elms.
Touch. sen. No more, brother. [Exit.
1st W. Your first man.
2nd W. Shall I carry your worship?
Touch. jun. Go; and you honest watermen that stay,
Here's a French crown for you [gives money]: there comes a maid
With all speed to take water, row her lustily
To Barn Elms after me.
2nd W. To Barn Elms, good sir.—
Make ready the boat, Sam; we'll wait below.
[Exeunt Watermen.
Enter MOLL.
Touch. jun. What made you stay so long?
Moll. I found the way more dangerous than I looked for.
Touch. jun. Away, quick; there's a boat waits for you; and I'll
Take water at Paul's wharf, and overtake you.
Moll. Good sir, do; we cannot be too safe. [Exeunt.
Enter Sir WALTER WHOREHOUND, YELLOWHAMMER, TIM, and Tutor.
Sir Wal. Life, call you this close keeping?
Yel. She was kept
Under a double lock.
Sir Wal. A double devil!
Tim. That's a buff sergeant, tutor; he'll ne'er wear out.
Yel. How would you have women locked?
Tim. With padlocks, father;
The Venetian uses it; my tutor reads it.
Sir Wal. Heart, if she were so locked up, how got she out?
Yel. There was a little hole looked into the gutter;
But who would have dreamt of that?
Sir Wal. A wiser man would.
Tim. He says true, father; a wise man for love
Will seek every hole; my tutor knows it.
Tutor. Verum poeta dicit.
Tim. Dicit Virgilius, father
Yel. Prithee, talk of thy gills somewhere else; sh'as played
The gill with me: where's your wise mother now?
Tim. Run mad, I think; I thought she would have drowned herself;
She would not stay for oars, but took a smelt-boat;
Sure I think she be gone a-fishing for her.
Yel. She'll catch a goodly dish of gudgeons now,
Will serve us all to supper.
Enter MAUDLIN, drawing in MOLL by the hair, and Watermen.
Maud. I'll tug thee home by the hair.
1st W. Good mistress, spare her!
Maud. Tend your own business.
1st W. You're a cruel mother.
[Exeunt Watermen.
Moll. O, my heart dies!
Maud. I'll make thee an example
For all the neighbours' daughters.
Moll. Farewell, life!
Maud. You that have tricks can counterfeit.
Yel. Hold, hold, Maudlin!
Maud. I've brought your jewel by the hair.
Yel. She's here, knight.
Sir Wal. Forbear, or I'll grow worse.
Tim. Look on her, tutor;
She hath brought her from the water like a mermaid;
She's but half my sister now, as far as the flesh goes,
The rest may be sold to fishwives.
Maud. Dissembling, cunning baggage!
Yel. Impudent strumpet!
Sir Wal. Either give over, both, or I'll give over.—
Why have you used me thus unkindly, mistress?
Wherein have I deserved?
Yel. You talk too fondly, sir:
We'll take another course and prevent all:
We might have done't long since; we'll lose no time now,
Nor trust to't any longer: to-morrow morn,
As early as sunrise, we'll have you joined.
Moll. O, bring me death to-night, love-pitying fates;
Let me not see to-morrow up on the world!
Yel. Are you content, sir? till then she shall be watched.
Maud. Baggage, you shall.
Tim. Why, father, my tutor and I
Will both watch in armour.
[Exeunt MAUDLIN, MOLL, and YELLOWHAMMER.
Tutor. How shall we do for weapons?
Tim. Take you
No care for that; if need be, I can send
For conquering metal, tutor, ne'er lost day yet.
'Tis but at Westminster; I am acquainted
With him that keeps the monuments; I can borrow
Harry the Fifth's sword; it will serve us both
To watch with. [Exeunt TIM and Tutor.
Sir Wal. I never was so near my wish
As this chance makes me: ere to-morrow noon
I shall receive two thousand pound in gold,
And a sweet maidenhead worth forty.
Re-enter TOUCHWOOD junior and Waterman.
Touch. jun. O, thy news splits me!
Water. Half-drowned, she cruelly tugged her by the hair,
Forced her disgracefully, not like a mother.
Touch. jun. Enough; leave me, like my joys.—
[Exit Waterman.
Sir, saw you not a wretched maid pass this way?
Heart, villain, is it thou?
Sir Wal. Yes, slave, 'tis I.
Touch. jun. I must break through thee then: there is no stop
That checks my tongue and all my hopeful fortunes,
That breast excepted, and I must have way.
Sir Wal. Sir, I believe 'twill hold your life in play.
Touch. jun. Sir, you will gain the heart in my breast first.
Sir Wal. There is no dealing then; think on the dowry
For two thousand pounds. [They fight.
Touch. jun. O, now 'tis quit, sir.
Sir Wal. And being of even hand, I'll play no longer.
Touch. jun. No longer, slave?
Sir Wal. I've certain things to think on,
Before I dare go further.
Touch. jun. But one bout!
I'll follow thee to death, but ha' it out. [Exeunt.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
A Room in ALLWIT'S House.
Enter ALLWIT, Mistress ALLWIT, and DAVY.
MIS. ALL. A misery of a house!
Allwit. What shall become of us!
Davy. I think his wound be mortal.
Allwit. Think'st thou so, Davy?
Then am I mortal too, but a dead man, Davy;
This is no world for me, whene'er he goes;
I must e'en truss up all, and after him, Davy;
A sheet with two knots, and away.
Davy. O see, sir!
Enter Sir WALTER WHOREHOUND led in by two Servants, who place him in
a
chair. How faint he goes! two of my fellows lead him.
Mis. All. O me! [Swoons.
Allwit. Heyday, my wife's laid down too; here's like to be
A good house kept, when we're all together down:
Take pains with her, good Davy, cheer her up there;
Let me come to his worship, let me come.
Sir Wal. Touch me not, villain; my wound aches at thee,
Thou poison to my heart!
Allwit. He raves already;
His senses are quite gone, he knows me not.—
Look up, an't like your worship; heave those eyes,
Call me to mind; is your remembrance left?
Look in my face; who am I, an't like your worship?
Sir Wal. If anything be worse than slave or villain,
Thou art the man!
Allwit. Alas, his poor worship's weakness!
He will begin to know me by little and little.
Sir Wal. No devil can be like thee!
Allwit. Ah, poor gentleman.
Methinks the pain that thou endurest mads thee.
Sir Wal. Thou know'st me to be wicked; for thy baseness
Kept the eyes open still on all my sins;
None knew the dear account my soul stood charged with
So well as thou, yet, like hell's flattering angel,
Wouldst never tell me on't, lett'st me go on,
And join with death in sleep; that if I had not
Waked now by chance, even by a stranger's pity,
I had everlastingly slept out all hope
Of grace and mercy.
Allwit. Now he's worse and worse.
Wife, to him, wife; thou wast wont to do good on him.
Mis. All. How is it with you, sir?
Sir Wal. Not as with you,
Thou loathsome strumpet! Some good, pitying man,
Remove my sins out of my sight a little;
I tremble to behold her, she keeps back
All comfort while she stays. Is this a time,
Unconscionable woman, to see thee?
Art thou so cruel to the peace of man,
Not to give liberty now? the devil himself
Shows a far fairer reverence and respect
To goodness than thyself; he dares not do this,
But parts in time of penitence, hides his face;
When man withdraws from him, he leaves the place:
Hast thou less manners and more impudence
Than thy instructor? prithee, show thy modesty,
If the least grain be left, and get thee from me:
Thou shouldst be rather locked many rooms hence
From the poor miserable sight of me,
If either love or grace had part in thee.
Mis. All. He's lost for ever! [Aside.
Allwit. Run, sweet Davy, quickly,
And fetch the children hither; sight of them
Will make him cheerful straight. [Exit DAVY.
Sir Wal. O death! is this
A place for you to weep? what tears are those!
Get you away with them, I shall fare the worse
As long as they're a-weeping, they work against me;
There's nothing but thy appetite in that sorrow,
Thou weep'st for lust; I feel it in the slackness
Of comforts coming towards me; I was well
Till thou began'st t' undo me: this shows like
The fruitless sorrow of a careless mother,
That brings her son with dalliance to the gallows,
And then stands by and weeps to see him suffer.
Re-enter DAVY with NICK, WAT, and other children.
Davy. There are the children, sir, an't like your worship,
Your last fine girl; in troth, she smiles;
Look, look, in faith, sir.
Sir Wal. O my vengeance!
Let me for ever hide my cursèd face
From sight of those that darken all my hopes,
And stand between me and the sight of Heaven!
Who sees me now—O, and those so near me,
May rightly say I am o'ergrown with sin.
O, how my offences wrestle with my repentance!
It hath scarce breath;
Still my adulterous guilt hovers aloft,
And with her black wings beats down all my prayers
Ere they be half-way up. What's he knows now
How long I have to live? O, what comes then?
My taste grows bitter; the round world all gall now;
Her pleasing pleasures now hath poisoned me,
Which I exchanged my soul for!
Make way a hundred sighs at once for me!
Allwit. Speak to him, Nick.
Nick. I dare not, I'm afraid.
Allwit. Tell him he hurts his wounds, Wat, with making moan.
Sir Wal. Wretched, death of seven!
Allwit. Come let's be talking
Somewhat to keep him alive. Ah, sirrah Wat,
And did my lord bestow that jewel on thee
For an epistle thou mad'st in Latin? thou
Art a good forward boy, there's great joy on thee.
Sir Wal. O sorrow!
Allwit. Heart, will nothing comfort him?
If he be so far gone, 'tis time to moan. [Aside.
Here's pen and ink, and paper, and all things ready;
Will't please your worship for to make your will?
Sir Wal. My will! yes, yes, what else? who writes apace now?
Allwit. That can your man Davy, an't like your worship;
A fair, fast, legible hand.
Sir Wal. Set it down then. [DAVY writes.
Imprimis, I bequeath to yonder wittol
Three times his weight in curses.
Allwit. How!
Sir Wal. All plagues
Of body and of mind.
Allwit. Write them not down, Davy.
Davy. It is his will; I must.
Sir Wal. Together also
With such a sickness ten days ere his death.
Allwit. There's a sweet legacy! I'm almost choked with't. [Aside.
Sir Wal. Next, I bequeath to that foul whore his wife
All barrenness of joy, a drouth of virtue,
And dearth of all repentance: for her end,
The common misery of an English strumpet,
In French and Dutch; beholding, ere she dies,
Confusion of her brats before her eyes,
And never shed a tear for't.
Enter 3rd Servant.
3rd Ser. Where's the knight?—
O sir, the gentleman you wounded is
Newly departed!
Sir Wal. Dead? lift, lift, who helps me?
Allwit. Let the law lift you now, that must have all;
I have done lifting on you, and my wife too.
3rd Ser. You were best lock yourself close.
Allwit. Not in my house, sir;
I'll harbour no such persons as men-slayers;
Lock yourself where you will.
Sir Wal. What's this?
Mis. All. Why, husband!
Allwit. I know what I do, wife.
Mis. All. You cannot tell yet;
For having killed the man in his defence,
Neither his life nor estate will be touched, husband.
Allwit. Away, wife! hear a fool! his lands will hang him.
Sir Wal. Am I denied a chamber?—What say you, forsooth?
Mis. All. Alas, sir, I am one that would have all well,
But must obey my husband.—Prithee, love,
Let the poor gentleman stay, being so sore wounded;
There's a close chamber at one end of the garret
We never use; let him have that, I prithee.
Allwit. We never use? you forgot sickness then,
And physic-times; is't not a place for easement?
Sir Wal. O, death! do I hear this with part
Of former life in me?—
Enter 4th Servant.
What's the news now?
4th Ser. Troth, worse and worse; you're like to lose your land,
If the law save your life, sir, or the surgeon.
Allwit. Hark you there, wife.
Sir Wal. Why, how, sir?
4th Ser. Sir Oliver Kix's wife is new quickened;
That child undoes you, sir.
Sir Wal. All ill at once!
Allwit. I wonder what he makes here with his consorts?
Cannot our house be private to ourselves,
But we must have such guests? I pray, depart, sirs,
And take your murderer along with you;
Good he were apprehended ere he go,
Has killed some honest gentleman; send for officers.
Sir Wal. I'll soon save you that labour.
Allwit. I must tell you, sir,
You have been somewhat bolder in my house
Than I could well like of; I suffered you
Till it stuck here at my heart; I tell you truly
I thought y'had been familiar with my wife once.
Mis. All. With me! I'll see him hanged first; I defy him,
And all such gentlemen in the like extremity.
Sir Wal. If ever eyes were open, these are they:
Gamesters, farewell, I've nothing left to play.
Allwit. And therefore get you gone, sir.
[Exit Sir WALTER, led off by Servants.
Davy. Of all wittols
Be thou the head—thou the grand whore of spittles!
[Exit.
Allwit. So, since he's like now to be rid of all,
I am right glad I'm so well rid of him.
Mis. All. I knew he durst not stay when you named officers.
Allwit. That stopped his spirits straight. What shall we do now,
wife?
Mis. All. As we were wont to do.
Allwit. We're richly furnished, wife,
With household stuff.
Mis. All. Let's let out lodgings then,
And take a house in the Strand.
Allwit. In troth, a match, wench!
We're simply stocked with cloth-of-tissue cushions
To furnish out bay-windows; pish, what not
That's quaint and costly, from the top to the bottom;
Life, for furniture we may lodge a countess:
There's a close-stool of tawny velvet too,
Now I think on it, wife.
Mis. All. There's that should be, sir;
Your nose must be in everything.
Allwit. I've done, wench.
And let this stand in every gallant's chamber,—
There is no gamester like a politic sinner,
For whoe'er games, the box is sure a winner. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Room in YELLOWHAMMER'S House.
Enter YELLOWHAMMER and MAUDLIN.
Maud. O husband, husband, she will die, she will die!
There is no sign but death.
Yel. 'Twill be our shame then.
Maud. O, how she's changed in compass of an hour!
Yel. Ah, my poor girl! good faith, thou wert too cruel
To drag her by the hair.
Maud. You'd have done as much, sir.
To curb her of her humour.
Yel. 'Tis curbed sweetly;
She catched her bane o' th' water.
Enter TIM.
Maud. How now, Tim?
Tim. Faith, busy, mother, about an epitaph
Upon my sister's death.
Maud. Death? she's not dead, I hope?
Tim. No, but she means to be, and that's as good,
And when a thing's done, 'tis done; you taught me that, mother.
Yel. What is your tutor doing?
Tim. Making one too, in principal pure Latin,
Culled out of Ovid de Tristibus.
Yel. How does your sister look? is she not changed?
Tim. Changed? gold into white money was ne'er so changed
As is my sister's colour into paleness.
Enter MOLL, led in by Servants, who place her in a chair.
Yel. O, here she's brought; see how she looks like death!
Tim. Looks she like death, and ne'er a word made yet?
I must go beat my brains against a bed-post,
And get before my tutor. [Exit.
Yel. Speak, how dost thou?
Moll. I hope I shall be well, for I'm as sick
At heart as I can be.
Yel. 'Las, my poor girl!
The doctor's making a most sovereign drink for thee,
The worst ingredience dissolved pearl and amber;
We spare no cost, girl.
Moll. Your love comes too late,
Yet timely thanks reward it. What is comfort,
When the poor patient's heart is past relief?
It is no doctor's art can cure my grief.
Yel. All is cast away, then;
Prithee, look upon me cheerfully.
Maud. Sing but a strain or two; thou wilt not think
How 'twill revive thy spirits; strive with thy fit,
Prithee, sweet Moll.
Moll. You shall have my good will, mother.
Maud. Why, well said, wench.
Moll. [sings.]
Weep eyes, break heart!
My love and I must part.
Cruel fates true love do soonest sever:
O, I shall see thee never, never, never!
O, happy is the maid whose life takes end
Ere it knows parent's frown or loss of friend!
Weep eyes, break heart!
My love and I must part.
Maud. O, I could die with music!—Well sung, girl.
Moll. If you call't so, it was.
Yel. She plays the swan,
And sings herself to death.
Enter TOUCHWOOD senior.
Touch. sen. By your leave, sir.
Yel. What are you, sir? or what's your business, pray?
Touch. sen. I may be now admitted, though the brother
Of him your hate pursued: it spreads no further.
Your malice sets in death, does it not, sir?
Yel. In death?
Touch. sen. He's dead: 'twas a dear love to him,
It cost him but his life, that was all, sir;
He paid enough, poor gentleman, for his love.
Yel. There's all our ill removed, if she were well now.—
[Aside.
Impute not, sir, his end to any hate
That sprung from us; he had a fair wound brought that.
Touch. sen. That helped him forward, I must needs confess;
But the restraint of love, and your unkindness,
Those were the wounds that from his heart drew blood;
But being past help, let words forget it too:
Scarcely three minutes ere his eyelids closed,
And took eternal leave of this world's light,
He wrote this letter, which by oath he boun me
To give to her own hands; that's all my business.
Yel. You may perform it then; there she sits.
Touch. sen. O, with a following look!
Yel. Ay, trust me, sir,
I think she'll follow him quickly.
Touch. sen. Here's some gold
He willed me to distribute faithfully
Amongst your servants. [Gives gold to Servants.
Yel. 'Las, what doth he mean, sir?
Touch. sen. How cheer you, mistress?
Moll. I must learn of you, sir.
Touch. sen. Here is a letter from a friend of yours,
[Giving letter to MOLL.
And where that fails in satisfaction,
I have a sad tongue ready to supply.
Moll. How does he, ere I look on't?
Touch. sen. Seldom better;
Has a contented health now,
Moll. I'm most glad on't.
Maud. Dead, sir?
Yel. He is: now, wife, let's but get the girl
Upon her legs again, and to church roundly with her.
Moll. O, sick to death, he tells me: how does he after this?
Touch. sen. Faith, feels no pain at all; he's dead, sweet mistress.
Moll. Peace close mine eyes! [Swoons.
Yel. The girl! look to the girl, wife!
Maud. Moll, daughter, sweet girl, speak! look but once up,
Thou shalt have all the wishes of thy heart
That wealth can purchase!
Yel. O, she's gone for ever!
That letter broke her heart.
Touch. sen. As good now then
As let her lie in torment, and then break it.
Enter SUSAN.
Maud. O Susan, she thou lovedst so dear is gone!
Susan. O sweet maid!
Touch. sen. This is she that helped her still.—
I've a reward here for thee.
Yel. Take her in,
Remove her from my sight, our shame and sorrow.
Touch. sen. Stay, let me help thee, 'tis the last cold kindness
I can perform for my sweet brother's sake.
[Exeunt TOUCHWOOD senior, SUSAN, and Servants,
carrying out MOLL.
Yel. All the whole street will hate us, and the world
Point me out cruel: it's our best course, wife,
After we've given order for the funeral,
T' absent ourselves till she be laid in ground.
Maud. Where shall we spend that time!
Yel. I'll tell thee where, wench:
Go to some private church, and marry Tim
To the rich Brecknock gentlewoman.
Maud. Mass, a match;
We'll not lose all at once, somewhat we'll catch.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Room in Sir OLIVER KIX'S House.
Enter Sir OLIVER KIX and Servants.
Sir Ol. Ho, my wife's quickened; I'm a man for ever!
I think I have bestirred my stumps, i'faith.
Run, get your fellows all together instantly,
Then to the parish church and ring the bells.
1st Ser. It shall be done, sir. [Exit.
Sir Ol. Upon my love
I charge you, villain, that you make a bonfire
Before the door at night.
2nd Ser. A bonfire, sir?
Sir Ol. A thwacking one, I charge you.
2nd Ser. This is monstrous. [Aside, and exit.
Sir Ol. Run, tell a hundred pound out for the gentleman
That gave my wife the drink, the first thing you do.
3rd Ser. A hundred pounds, sir?
Sir Ol. A bargain: as our joy grows,
We must remember still from whence it flows,
Or else we prove ungrateful multipliers:
[Exit 3rd Servant.
The child is coming, and the land comes after;
The news of this will make a poor Sir Walter:
I've strook it home, i'faith.
4th Ser. That you have, marry, sir;
But will not your worship go the funeral
Of both these lovers?
Sir Ol. Both? go both together?
4th Ser. Ay, sir, the gentleman's brother will have it so:
'Twill be the pitifull'st sight! there is such running,
Such rumours, and such throngs, a pair of lovers
Had never more spectators, more men's pities,
Or women's wet eyes.
Sir Ol. My wife helps the number then.
4th Ser. There is such drawing out of handkerchers;
And those that have no handkerchers lift up aprons.
Sir Ol. Her parents may have joyful hearts at this:
I would not have my cruelty so talked on
To any child of mine for a monopoly.
4th Ser. I believe you, sir.
Tis cast so, too, that both their coffins meet,
Which will be lamentable.
Sir Ol. Come, we'll see't. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Near a Church.
Recorders dolefully playing, enter at one door the coffin of TOUCHWOOD
junior, solemnly decked, his sword upon it, attended by many gentlemen in
black, among whom are Sir OLIVER KIX, ALLWIT, and Parson, TOUCHWOOD
senior being the chief mourner: at the other door the coffin of MOLL,
adorned with a garland of flowers, and epitaphs pinned on it, attended by
many
matrons and maids, among whom are Lady KIX, Mistress ALLWIT, and SUSAN;
the coffins are set down, one right over against the other; and while all the
company seem to weep and mourn, there is a sad song in the music-room.
Touch. sen. Never could death boast of a richer prize
From the first parent; let the world bring forth
A pair of truer hearts. To speak but truth
Of this departed gentleman, in a brother
Might, by hard censure, be called flattery,
Which makes me rather silent in his right
Than so to be delivered to the thoughts
Of any envious hearer, starved in virtue,
And therefore pining to hear others thrive;
But for this maid, whom envy cannot hurt
With all her poisons, having left to ages
The true, chaste monument of her living name,
Which no time can deface, I say of her
The full truth freely, without fear of censure:
What nature could there shrine, that might redeem
Perfection home to woman, but in her
Was fully glorious? beauty set in goodness
Speaks what she was; that jewel so infixed,
There was no want of anything of life
To make these virtuous precedents man and wife,
Allwit. Great pity of their deaths!
1st Mour. Never more pity!
Lady Kix. It makes a hundred weeping eyes, sweet gossip.
Touch sen. I cannot think there's any one amongst you
In this full fair assembly, maid, man, or wife,
Whose heart would not have sprung with joy and gladness
To have seen their marriage-day.
2nd Mour. It would have made
A thousand joyful hearts.
Touch. sen. Up then apace,
And take your fortunes, make these joyful hearts;
Here's none but friends.
[MOLL and TOUCHWOOD junior rise out of their coffins.
All. Alive, sir? O sweet, dear couple!
Touch. sen. Nay, do not hinder 'em now, stand from about 'em;
If she be caught again, and have this time,
I'll ne'er plot further for 'em, nor this honest chambermaid,
That helped all at a push.
Touch. jun. Good sir, apace.
Parson. Hands join now, but hearts for ever,
[MOLL and TOUCHWOOD junior join hands.
Which no parent's mood shall sever.
You shall forsake all widows, wives, and maids—
You lords, knights, gentlemen, and men of trades;—
And if in haste any article misses,
Go interline it with a brace of kisses.
Touch. sen. Here's a thing trolled nimbly.—Give you joy,
brother;
Were't not better thou shouldst have her than the maid should die?
Mis. All. To you, sweet mistress bride.
All. Joy, joy to you both.
Touch. sen. Here be your wedding-sheets you brought along with you;
You may both go to bed when you please too.
Touch jun. My joy wants utterance.
Touch. sen. Utter all at night
Then, brother.
Moll. I am silent with delight.
Touch. sen. Sister, delight will silence any woman;
But you'll find your tongue again 'mong maid servants,
Now you keep house, sister.
2nd Mour. Never was hour so filled with joy and wonder.
Touch. sen. To tell you the full story of this chambermaid,
And of her kindness in this business to us,
'Twould ask an hour's discourse; in brief, 'twas she
That wrought it to this purpose cunningly.
3rd Mour. We shall all love her for't.
4th Mour. See, who comes here now!
Enter YELLOWHAMMER and MAUDLIN.
Touch. sen. A storm, a storm! but we are sheltered for it.
Yel. I will prevent you all, and mock you thus,
You and your expectations; I stand happy,
Both in your lives, and your hearts' combination.
Touch. sen. Here's a strange day again!
Yel. The knight's proved villain;
All's come out now, his niece an arrant baggage;
My poor boy Tim is cast away this morning,
Even before breakfast, married a whore
Next to his heart.
Mourners. A whore!
Yel. His niece, forsooth.
Allwit. I think we rid our hands in good time of him.
Mis. All. I knew he was past the best when I gave him over,—
What is become of him, pray, sir?
Yel. Who, the knight?
He lies i' th' Knights' ward;—now your belly, lady,
[To Lady KIX.
Begins to blossom, there's no peace for him,
His creditors are so greedy.
Sir Ol. Master Touchwood,
Hear'st thou this news? I'm so endeared to thee
For my wife's fruitfulness, that I charge you both,
Your wife and thee, to live no more asunder
For the world's frowns; I've purse, and bed, and board for you:
Be not afraid to go to your business roundly;
Get children, and I'll keep them.
Touch. sen. Say you so, sir?
Sir Ol. Prove me with three at a birth, an thou dar'st now.
Touch. sen. Take heed how you dare a man, while you live, sir,
That has good skill at his weapon.
Sir Ol. 'Foot, I dare you, sir!
Enter TIM, Welshwoman, and Tutor.
Yel. Look, gentlemen, if e'er you saw the picture
Of the unfortunate marriage, yonder 'tis.
Welsh. Nay, good sweet Tim_____
Tim. Come from the university
To marry a whore in London, with my tutor too!
O tempora! O mores!
Tutor. Prithee, Tim, be patient.
Tim. I bought a jade at Cambridge;
I'll let her out to execution, tutor,
For eighteenpence a-day, or Brainford horse-races;
She'll serve to carry seven miles out of town well.
Where be these mountains? I was promised mountains,
But there's such a mist, I can see none of 'em.
What are become of those two thousand runts?
Let's have a bout with them in the meantime;
A vengeance runt thee!
Maud. Good sweet Tim, have patience.
Tim. Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo, mother.
Maud. I think you have married her in logic, Tim.
You told me once by logic you would prove
A whore an honest woman; prove her so, Tim,
And take her for thy labour.
Tim. Troth, I thank you:
I grant you, I may prove another man's wife so,
But not mine own.
Maud. There's no remedy now, Tim;
You must prove her so as well as you may.
Tim. Why then
My tutor and I will about her as well as we can:
Uxor non est meretrix ergo falleris.
Welsh. Sir, if your logic cannot prove me honest,
There's a thing called marriage, and that makes me honest.
Maud. O, there's a trick beyond your logic, Tim!
Tim. I perceive then a woman may be honest
According to the English print, when she's
A whore in the Latin; so much for marriage and logic:
I'll love her for her wit, I'll pick out my runts there;
And for my mountains, I'll mount upon_____
Yel. So fortune seldom deals two marriages
With one hand, and both lucky; the best is,
One feast will serve them both: marry, for room,
I'll have the dinner kept in Goldsmith's Hall,
To which, kind gallants, I invite you all.
[Exeunt.
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