■
CORNELL. r ,
UNIVERSITY
LIBJlftlLX .
FROM
J;4$|es Morgan. Hart
'X
Professor of .. English
18/Vll/ll
Date Due
im
ffi nm aAjLj
1 4 1958 m f
^Efi-^.J§£gJJ)
Mttjgjwa^-m 3 ,
OCT 27
19SBflft
#
Cornell University Library
PR2711.B93
V ' 1 The works of Thomas Middleton
The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013133396
Zhc English ^Dramatists
THOMAS MIDDLETON
VOLUME THE FIRST
1 4 \,'h .
-_i«BS
Ojjfrub (S
ie^
toraxj&yit.
PJhtMtffi, \
THE WORKS
THOMAS MIDDLETON
EDITED BY
*<1>
A^ H? BULLEN, B.A.
IN EIGHT VOLUMES
VOLUME THE FIRST
LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14. KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
MDCCCLXXXV ^
r* •
3?//
Bf3
>- I
One hundred and twenty copies of this Edition on Laid
paper, medium 8vo, have been printed, and are numbered
consecutively as issued.
No...3M
TO
ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE,
GREAT AS SCHOLAR AND CRITIC,
GREATER AS POET,
THESE VOLUMES ARE INSCRIBED
BY THE EDITOR.
PREFACE.
The works of Thomas Midddleton were collected in
1840 by Alexander Dyce. This edition has long been
out of print, and the need of a new edition has been
keenly felt. Of Dyce's editorial work it would be diffi-
cult to speak too highly ; he was a man of wide and
accurate reading, and his critical acumen was consi-
derable. I have, of course, made a very free use of his
notes.
In the present edition are included some pieces that
were unknown to Dyce. These are : (1) a prose tract
entitled The Peace-Maker, or Great Britain's Blessing,
1618, which has been erroneously ascribed to James I. ;
(2) A Musical Allegory, 1622 (printed for the first time),
from a MS. preserved among the Conway Papers ; (3)
The Triumphs of Honour and Virtue, 1622, reprinted
from the Shakespeare Society's Papers. I have also
included a slight tract relating to Sir Robert Sherley,
which Dyce rejected on insufficient information. The
two parts of The Honest Whore will be printed hereafter
among Dekker's works.
vol. 1. b
viii Preface.
The etched portrait of Middleton is from a rough
woodcut prefixed to Two New Plays, 1657.
I have to return my warmest thanks to my friend
Mr. C. H. Firth for his great kindness in reading the
proof-sheets of the present volumes and aiding me with
valuable suggestions throughout. My friends Mr. S. L.
Lee and Mr. W. J. Craig have also given me occasional
help.
13M May 1885.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
PAGE
DEDICATION v
PREFACE . . . vii
INTRODUCTION . xi
BLURT , MASTER-CONSTABLE ... . i
the\ phcen |[x . ^o.\«r>. 99
MICHAELMAS TERM .... . .211
INTRODUCTION.
It should be an editor's aim to cultivate a nice sense of
proportion and eschew exaggeration. Uncritical eulogy
has the effect of irritating or repelling the reader ; and
when a poet has stood the test of time for nearly three
centuries, his position needs no strengthening by violent
displays of editorial zeal. Middleton's most recent
critic 1 has not hesitated to affirm that "in daring and
happy concentration of imagery, and a certain imperial
confidence in the use of words, he of all the dramatists of
that time is the disciple that comes nearest to the master."
The reader who gives to these volumes the study they
deserve will discover that this statement is not made at
random, but is the mature judgment of a balanced mind.
The comedies of intrigue show ready invention and
craftsmanlike skill, though the plots are sometimes thin
and the humour often gross ; for dignity of moral senti-
1 The writer of the anonymous article on Middleton in the ninth
edition of the Rncyclopcsdia Britannica.
VOL. I, C
xiv Introduction.
to write for the stage. The earliest reference to him
in Henslowe's Diary (ed. Collier, p. 221) is an entry
dated 22nd May 1602, from which it appears that he
was then engaged with Munday, Drayton, Webster, and
some others not named, in writing a play called Cessans
Fall, for which Henslowe advanced five pounds on ac-
count. Under date 29th May (ibid. p. 222) is an entry
recording the payment of three pounds to Dekker,
Drayton, Middleton, Webster, and Munday for a play
called too harpes, i.e. Two Harpies. On 21st October
(ibid. p. 227) Middleton received four pounds in part
payment for The Chester Tragedy, and on 9th Novem-
ber two pounds " in fulle paymente of his playe called
Randowlle earlle of Chester" (ibid. p. 228), which was
doubtless the same piece as The Chester Tragedy. From
an entry dated 14th December 1602 (ibid. p. 228) we
learn that Middleton was paid five shillings for writing a
prologue and epilogue to Greene's Friar Bacon, when
that play was revived at court. There is another entry
(ibid. p. 24.T), dated 2d October 1602, recording the pay-
ment of twenty shillings to Middleton on account of an
unnamed play written for Lord Worcester's company.
Time, which " hath an art to make dust of all things,"
has spared neither Casals Fall, nor the Two Harpies,
nor The Chester Tragedy (which Malone in a moment of
forgetfulness identified with the Mayor of Queenborough),
nor the prologue and epilogue to Friar Bacon.
In 1602, then, Middleton was closely employed in
dramatic writing ; but it is fairly certain that he had
begun work a few years earlier. The date 1599 has
Introduction. xv
been assigned to the excellent comedy The Old Law,
which was first published in 1656 as the work of Massin-
ger, Middleton, and Rowley. If the play was written in
I S99 1 ( a point on which we cannot speak with certainty),
Massinger could have had no hand in the original com-
position, for in 1599 he was a youth of fifteen. Probably
Massinger did no more than revise the play on the
occasion of its revival at the Salisbury Court Theatre ;
I doubt whether he added a single scene. Rowley's
share was certainly considerable. When he is writing
at his best, Rowley is one of the drollest of writers.
He was a poor hand at constructing plots ; he was often
guilty of the most atrocious absurdities ; his verse hobbled
badly when it came from his pen, and in its passage
through the press was reduced by the old printers to a
rudis indigestaque moles ; he roared like a bull of Bashan
when he ought to have been dignified. But he had a
genuine gift of humour ; and at times (as in A Woman
never Vext and passages of All's Lost by Lust) he could
wring our heart-strings- with pity. I would unhesitat-
ingly assign to him the scene (iii. 1) where Gnotho,
anxious to put away his old wife Agatha and take a
younger, bribes the parish-clerk to alter the date in the
register. The conclusion of The Old Law is the drollest
1 In iii. 1, the Clerk, after reading from the parish-register, " Agatha,
the daughter of Pollux, born in an. 1540," observes, "and now 'tis 99."
At first sight we should feel inclined to pronounce that 1599 must be
the date of the production of the play. But it is well to tread cautiously,
remembering that the play was not printed until 1656, that it has de-
scended in a very corrupt state, and that both copyists and printers
constantly blunder over dates.
xvi Introduction.
of all drolleries. To the relief of the old courtiers and
the dismay of their gaping heirs, Evander, the Duke, has
just pronounced void the law which condemned to death
all men of fourscore years and all women- of threescore.
At this moment Gnotho and his friends are seen ap-
proaching in riotous mirth, preceded by a band of fiddlers
and followed by the sorrowing wives, who are being con-
ducted to execution. Gnotho, more forward than the
rest, has a double business in hand ; he is provided with
his new bride, and when he has seen Agatha despatched
by the hangman, he will proceed to church to solemnise
the second marriage. " Crowd on afore ! " he shouts
impatiently to the fiddlers. The Duke calls a halt and
inquires the meaning of the procession. Gnotho,
anxious to make an end of the business, very briefly
explains, and then shouts again to the fiddlers " Crowd
on ! : ' Evander demands more light on the matter, but
Gnotho is in no mood for parleying. " A lusty woman,
able-bodied, and well-blooded cheeks,'' says Evander,
eyeing Agatha ; " sure I cannot think that she be so
old," — to which Gnotho replies that he will bet Evander
two to one she is of the, full age. Evander commits the
case to the consideration of the old courtiers. Gnotho
listens with amused pity while they sternly denounce his
conduct, and when they have ended exclaims, "A
mess of wise old men ! ye are good old men, and talk
as age will give you leave." But at length, by slow
degrees, he is brought to realise the true state of affairs.
There is nothing in Massinger's or Middleton's plays to
match the drollery of this scene ; but whoever has read
Introduction. xvii
Rowley knows what a rich vein of whimsical humour he
could sometimes discover. Yet in this very scene Mid-
dleton's presence is plainly visible ; the humour is
Rowley's, but without Middleton's help the Duke and
old courtiers would not have preserved so dignified a de-
meanour. To Middleton probably belong all the serious
parts of the play. The scenes in which the wantonness
of the young court-gallants and Eugenia is so spiritedly
represented are unquestionably by Middlejon, and the
talk of the lawyers in the opening scene is quite in his
manner. The Old Law was a favourite with Charles
Lamb, who wrote of it — "There is an exquisiteness of
moral sensibility, making one to gush out tears of delight,
and a poetical strangeness in all the improbable circum-
stances of this wild play, which are unlike anything in
the dramas which Massinger wrote alone. The pathos
is of a subtler edge. Middleton and Rowley, who
assisted in this play, had both of them finer geniuses
than their associate." Whether the plot was original
or borrowed I cannot say. A few years ago Anthony
Trollope constructed a slight novel, The Fixed. Period,
with a plot of somewhat similar character. There is
only one quarto of The Old Law, published in 1656, and
the text is deplorably corrupt. Numerous emendations,
sometimes excellent and sometimes needless, were made
by Monk Mason and Gifford. Perhaps I ought to have
allowed myself more freedom in the matter of emenda-
tion. Among my corrections there are two I . regard
as tolerably certain. Hippolita pleading before the
xviii Introduction.
young courtiers for the life of her old father-in-law, says
(v. i):-
" For yet, methinks, you bear the shapes of men,
(Though nothing more than merely beautifeatts
To make you appear angels)," &c.
Gifford converted the italicised words into "merely
beauty serves," and this emendation was adopted by
Dyce ; but Gifford's reading is quite unintelligible. My
own correction, " mercy beautifies" is, I venture to think,
unassailable. Again : Leonides, admiring his daughter-
in-law's devotion, exclaims —
" That the stronger tie of wedlock should do more
Than nature in her nearest ligaments
Of blood and propagation ! I should ne'er
Have begot such a daughter of my own."
Gifford and Dyce read "strong" for "stronger" The
true reading is certainly " stranger" which gives us the
desired antithesis.
Dyce considered the tragi-comedy of The Mayor of
Queenborougk (first printed in 1661) to be one of Mid-
dleton's earliest plays. I do not follow him in laying
stress on dumb-shows as evidence towards fixing the
date. We have a dumb-show in The Changeling, which
is certainly one of Middleton's maturest works. Web-
ster gives us dumb-shows in The White Devil. My own
view is that The Mayor of Queenborough was originally
an early play, but that it underwent considerable revi-
sion at a later date, and has descended in its revised
form. In iv. 3 (see vol. ii. p. 86) there are some lines
Introduction. xix
which contain a resemblance, too close to be accidental,
to a passage in The Tempest. Middleton frequently
imitates Shakespeare, but it is hardly likely that Shake-
speare (as Reed supposed) was on this occasion return-
ing the compliment. Many passages are so strikingly
fine that I cannot but believe them to have been written
when Middleton' s genius was in its full maturity. What
a grip there is in such lines as these ! —
"We are all, my lord,
The sons of fortune ; she has sent us forth
To thrive by the red sweat of our own merits."
Or take these lines on woman's lust : —
"'Tis her cunning,
The love of her own lust, which makes a woman
Gallop down hill as fearless as a drunkard."
Or these on Thong Castle : —
" Why, here's a fabric that implies eternity ;
The building plain but most substantial ;
Methinks it looks as if it mock'd all ruin,
Saving that master-piece of consummation,
The end of time, which must consume even ruin,
> And eat that into cinders."
Again and again we are arrested by the bold utter-
ance, the fine dramatic ring of the verse. Yet the play
as a whole leaves little impression on the mind, and
has the appearance of being an immature production.
The odd confusion of chronology is a mark of youthful
treatment. Only at an early stage of his career would
Middleton have ventured to introduce a Puritan into a
chronicle play which deals with Hengist and Horsus.
Rowley, who wrote The Birth of Merlin, would have had
xx Introduction.
not the slightest hesitation in the matter, and Heywood
was equally indifferent; but Middleton in his mature
work shows due respect for chronology. The plot is
repulsive. Vortiger is a monster of iniquity, and his
brutality towards his gentle wife, Castiza, is peculiarly
disgusting. Roxana is a creature of lust, effrontery,
and guile. Middleton's later studies of depraved femi-
nine character are among his highest achievements;
but Roxana cannot for a moment compare with Bianca
in Women beware Women or Beatrice in The Changeling.
The comic scenes were doubtless effective on the stage ;
they are somewhat tiresome by the fireside. In Row-
ley's hands the Mayor would have been a more amusing
figure. It is for the detached passages of noble poetry
that students will value this tragi-comedy, which is
admirably adapted for purposes of quotation. Lamb
has introduced one short extract from it into his essay
The Superannuated Man: — "I no longer hunt after
pleasure ; I let it come to me. I am like the man
' that's born and has his years come to him
In some green desert."' 1
The extract is from i. i, where Constantius seeks to be
relieved from assuming the cares of royalty : —
" I know no more the way to temporal rule
Than he that's born and has his years come to him
In a rough desert."
i It is also given in the Fragments appended to Extracts from the
Garrick Plays in Hone's Taile Book. These Fragments are unpardon-
ably omitted from collected editions of the Specimens and Extracts.
Introduction. xxi
It will be perceived that by the change of rough into
green, Lamb has given a novel significance to the pas-
sage.
First on the list of Middleton's printed plays is Blurt,
Master Constable, 1602, a sprightly, well-written play,
containing some charming poetry. The scene is laid
in Venice. Hippolito and Camillo, returning from the
wars, are received by Hippolito's sister, Violetta. Camillo,
a suitor to Violetta, has brought with him as prisoner a
French gentleman, Fontinelle, whom he delivers into his
mistress's hands as a trophy of war. Charmed with his
grace of manner, Violetta falls in love with her prisoner
at first sight; and her passion is reciprocated. The
lovers contrive to baffle the machinations of Hippolito
and Camillo, and at length are secretly married. Severe
censure has been passed, quite undeservedly, on the con-
clusion of the play. Professor A. W. Ward, who usually
takes pains to be scrupulously accurate, observes in his
account of Middleton (Engl. Dram. Lit, ii. 74) : — " The
lightness and gaiety of writing in Blurt, Master Constable
(printed 1602), cannot render tolerable a play with so vile
a plot. Beginning pleasantly, and indeed prettily enough,
with the sudden passion of a lady for the prisoner brought
home from the wars by her lover, it ends offensively
with the unfaithfulness of the prisoner, who has escaped
and married the lady, and is finally brought back to her
by a device which resembles a parody on the plot of
Alts Well that Ends Well" But, if I have read the plijjj
rightly, Mr. Ward has misstated the matter. Hippolito
and Camillo, in their anxiety to effectually sunder the
xxii Introduction.
young lovers, endeavour to clap up a match between
Fontinelle and the courtesan Imperia. Hippolito
broaches the matter to Imperia, and — that she may not
buy a pig in a poke — sends her Fontinelle's portrait;
she is delighted with the portrait and welcomes the
proposal. In iii. i, Hippolito and Camillo offer Fon-
tinelle his liberty if he will marry Imperia, but he indig-
nantly rejects the proposal and is sent back to prison.
Frisco, the courtesan's page,, is then employed to visit
the prisoner and use his powers of persuasion. At this
point the plot is not so plain as we could have wished,
and it is probable that a scene between Frisco and
Fontinelle has been lost. A plan of escape is devised
during the prison conference : Fontinelle is to change
clothes with Frisco and repair to the courtesan's house.
Meanwhile Fontinelle sends by Frisco a letter to
Violetta, bidding her come at midnight to Saint
Lorenzo's monastery, and bring a friar to conduct the
marriage. The poet leaves us to fill in details. When
the marriage had been solemnised, it remained for the
bride and bridegroom to seek a place of shelter. What
was to be done, for the hour was late ? The course they
took is as plain as day. It was agreed that Fontinelle
should go to the courtesan's house, pretending that he
had come to carry out his engagement, and that Violetta
should presently follow to claim her husband. It is a
violent absurdity to suppose that Fontinelle's speech to
Imperia in v. 2 is the language of genuine passion : —
" Now, by the heart of love, my Violet
Is a foul weed [0 pure Italian flower !)
Introduction. xxiii
She a black negro, to the white compare
Of this unequalled beauty. O most accurst,
That I have given her leave to challenge me !
But, lady, poison speaks Italian well,
And in her loath'd kiss I'll include her hell."
The parenthesised words ought to be enough for any
reader ; but we have, besides, the explicit statement of
Violetta at the close of the play : —
" My Fontinelle ne'er dallied in her arms ;
She never bound his heart with amorous charms :
My Fontinelle ne'er loathed my sweet embrace :
She never drew love's picture by his face :
With prayers and tribes we hired her both to lie
Under that roof"
' Of course I do not deny that it would have been more
decorous for the marriage-night to have been spent
under some other roof than the courtesan's ; but it must
be remembered that the young lovers were not in a
position to pick and choose their lodging. Helena's
device in All's Well seems to me far less defensible than
Violetta's. Fontinelle's conduct throughout is the con-
duct of an honourable gentleman. I am sorry that Mr.
Ward should have misrepresented the plot; but I allow
that Middleton ought to have rendered such misrepre-
sentation impossible by supplying more details and
leaving less to the reader's imagination. It is not easy
to carry in one's head the plots of several hundreds of
plays ; and so careful a stage-historian as Mr. Ward may
well claim indulgence for occasional lapses.
We may assume that Middleton's marriage with Mary,
xxiv Introduction.
daughter of Edward Morbeck, 1 one of the six clerks
in Chancery, took place in 1602 or 1603 ; for his son
Edward was born in 1604. There were no other chil-
dren of the marriage.
In 1604 were published two interesting tracts, Father
Hubbard's Tale, or the Ant and the Nightingale, and The
Black Book; the former was entered in the Stationers'
Books on 3rd January 1603-4, and the latter on 22nd
of the following March. The address To the Reader pre-
fixed to Father Hubbard's Tale is signed T. M., and the
Epistle to the Reader prefixed to The Black Book bears
the same initials. There cannot be the slightest doubt 2
that these initials belong to the dramatist. With a light
hand the writer exposes the foibles and vices of the
time. He was evidently a great admirer of Nashe — to
whom he makes many allusions — and reflects in his own
1 See pedigree on p. xii. In Harl. MS. 1046, fol. 209, the name is
written Marbecke.
2 Mr. Carew Hazlitt has the hardihood to assert "there is no pre-
tence whatever for assigning this volume [Father Hubbard's Tale] to
Middleton," whose claim to The Black Book he denies with equal
emphasis. Middleton, according to Mr. Hazlitt, "usually put his
name to anything that came from his pen ; " but A Mad World, my
Masters and A Trick to Catch the Old Oneheax merely the initials "T.
M." Mr. Hazlitt assigns these tracts to Thomas Moffat (or Moufet or
Muffet), a medical writer and author of a curious poem on the manage-
ment of silkworms. There is a good life of Muffet in Cooper's A then.
Cantab. , ii. 400-402. He spent his closing days in retirement at Bul-
bridge, near Wilton, in the capacity of retainer to the Earl of Pembroke.
That this man at the end of his career (he died in 1605) should have
abandoned scientific studies to attack the vices of the town is prima
facie unlikely ; and Mr. Hazlitt adduces not a grain of evidence in sup-
port of his extraordinary theory.
Introduction. xxv
pages something of Nashe's marvellous brilliancy. To
students of the social life of the early seventeenth cen-
tury these tracts — and similar writings of Dekker and
Rowlands — are invaluable. In Father Hubbard's Tale
we are shown how a rich young spendthrift squanders
in dicing and debauchery the hard-earned fruits of his
father's parsimony, until at length he is driven to join
the ranks of the sharpers who have fleeced him, and
assists in ruining other young heirs. The elaborate
description of the young prodigal's apparel is quite in
Nashe's vein of whimsical extravagance. We are con-
ducted in The Black Book through the rowdiest parts of
the metropolis, Turnbull Street and Birchin Lane, the
haunts of drabs and thieves. Middleton's knowledge of
London, like Sam Weller's, was extensive and peculiar.
In the same year (1604) Middleton assisted Dekker
in the composition of The Honest Whore. We find
in Henslow's Diary (ed. Collier, p. 232) the following
entry : —
"Lent unto the company, to geve unto Thomas Deckers and
Middelton, in earnest of ther Playe called the pasyent man and the
onest hore, the some of v 1 ' 1604."
The First Part of The Honest Whore was issued in
1604, and the Second Part in 1630 : on the title-pages
of both parts only Dekker's name is found. I agree
with Dyce that Middleton's share in this play was
inconsiderable. Dekker had, as Lamb says, "poetry
enough for anything." His sympathy with sinful and
sorrowing humanity was genuine and deep; but his
-xxvi Introduction.
poignant feelings sometimes found expression in lan-
guage which seems to have the air of insincerity. In
the fine scenes where Hippolito implores Bellafront to
abandon her vicious course of life, and again where he
strives to undo the effect of his former teaching, one
feels that the arguments and illustrations are enforced
with over-heated vehemence. This note of exaggeration
is never absent from Dekker's work ; he let his fancy-
have full swing and did not write "with slower pen."
But he was the most natural of writers, lovable at all
points, full of simplicity and tenderness. The character
of Orlando Friscobaldo is drawn in Dekker's cheeriest,
sunniest manner. I would ascribe to Middleton the
scenes (i. 5 and iii. 1) where the gallants endeavour to
irritate the patient Candido. Bellafront's preparations
for receiving visitors, and the conduct of the gallants on
their arrival (ii. 1), closely recall a scene in Michaelmas
Term (iii. 1). In these scenes, and in a few comic
scenes of the Second Part, we recognise Middleton's
hand, but hardly elsewhere.
About the time when the First Part of The Honest
Whore was composed, Dekker went out of his way to
acknowledge a slight obligation under which he lay
towards Middleton. On the 15th March 1603-4, King
James, with the Queen and Prince Henry, paid a state
visit to the City, and Dekker was employed to write
a pageant for the occasion. When the pageant was
printed (1604), he appended to the speech of Zeal the
following note : — " If there be any glory to be won by
writing these lines, I do freely bestow it, as his due, on
Introduction. xxvii
Tho. Middleton, in whose brain they were begotten,
though they were delivered here : qua nos non fecimus
ipsi, vix ea nostra voco." As the speech is only sixty
lines long, it is curious — considering how indifferent the
dramatists were to literary etiquette — that he should
have made this acknowledgment. Had Middleton's
share in The Honest Whore been at all considerable, we
may be tolerably sure that his name would not have
been omitted from the title-page.
After 1604 Middleton published nothing until 1607,
in which year appeared The Phxnix 1 and Michaelmas
Term. Both these comedies are full of life and move-
ment. Phoenix, son of the Duke of Ferrara, is solicited
by his father, at the instance of some disaffected
courtiers, to travel in foreign parts that he may gain
observation and experience. He agrees to the pro-
posal, but requests that he may be accompanied only
by a single attendant, Fidelio ; for he suspects treachery,
and is determined to outwit the courtiers. Instead of
travelling abroad, he disguises himself and travels in
his own kingdom, with the intent not only to keep a
sharp eye on the courtiers, but to detect what abuses
are rife throughout the land. In the course of his per-
ambulations he discovers notable roguery. There is
Tangle, an "old busy turbulent fellow, a villainous
maltworm, that eats holes into poor men's causes,"
1 In vol. i. p. ioi, I say that The Phcenix "was licensed by Sir
George Buc, 9th May 1607." I ought to have said "licensed for
printing. " So on p. 213 in regard to Michaelmas Term,
VOL. I, 4
xxviii Introduction.
who talks in a legal jargon that becomes somewhat
tedious. Then there is Falsa, a justice of the peace,
who takes bribes on all sides, and keeps a set of rascally
serving-men, who employ their leisure in committing
highway robberies. We are also introduced to a jEorlh-
less, sea-captain, who has grown tired of his wife, and
signs a bond for the sale of her ; and to a wanton city
madam, who by robbing her husband supports a needy
knight for her pleasure. In this nest of villainy there
is found one honest man, Quieto, who (like Candido
in The Honest Whore) is at peace with everybody and
allows nothing to ruffle his equanimity. There is an
abundance of amusing intrigue and lively situations.
The poetry put into the mouth of Phoenix is of a
high order. Genuine eloquence is shown in the apos-
trophes to " sober Law, made with meek eyes, persuad-
ing action" (i. 4), and to "reverend and honourable
Matrimony" (ii. 2). The latter passage, as Dyce re-
marked, bears some resemblance to the lines beginning
" Hail, wedded Love ! " in the fourth book of Paradise
Lost.
In Michaelmas Term we see a young gentleman,
Master Easy, caught in the snares of a griping usurer,
Quomodo. Tighter and tighter in each successive
scene the meshes close round the victim. In the end
all comes right ; villainy overreaches itself, and Master
Easy not only gets back his lands, but is left in lawful
possession of the bloodsucker's wife, a spirited woman.
Michaelmas Term is full of excellent fun, and the reader
has only himself to blame if he fails to find amusement,
Introduction. xxix
Quomodo's one ambition was to be a landed proprietor.
When he sees that his dream is about to be realised,
his exultation is delightfully comic. He dwells with
gusto on the prospect of the Whitsun holidays, when
he will ride down to his estate in Essex " with a number
of citizens and their wives, some upon pillions, some
upon side-saddles," his son, Sim, riding ahead in a
peach-coloured taffeta jacket. There will be good store
of logs for Christmas ; and he intends to astonish the
citizens' wives by the quality of the fruit from his
orchard. His parting words to the victim whom he
has fleeced of everything are drolly cordial : — " If it
please you, sir, you know the house ; you may visit us
often, and dine with us once a quarter."
A Trick to Catch the Old One 1 and The Family of
Love were published in 1608 : the former had been
entered in the Stationers' Registers on 7th October 1607,
and the latter on the 12th of the same month. I do
not hesitate to endorse Langbaine's brief but emphatic
judgment on A Trick to Catch the Old One: — "This
is an excellent old play." The plot is as follows. An
improvident young gallant, Witgood, who has mortgaged
all his property to his usurious uncle, Lucre, repents of
his evil courses and is anxious to make a new start. He
pretends that he is the accepted suitor to a rich widow
from the country. The so-called widow is a courtesan,
1 A kind of proverbial saying. Cf. Day's Isle of Gulls, ii. 5 : —
" We are in the way to catch the old one,"
xxx Introduction.
who throws herself into the scheme with uncommon
zest. A shrewd innkeeper is engaged as her serving-
man and despatched to Lucre's house to make inquiries
on his mistress's behalf about Witgood's fortunes. He
feigns to be unaware that he is addressing Witgood's
uncle ; he wants to hear from some sober citizen whether
■the match contemplated by his mistress is desirable, and
whether Witgood is a man of substance. Lucre pricks
up his ears at once. Poor relatives are a nuisance, but
when a timely stroke of luck promotes them to afflu-
ence, then the case is altered, and those who formerly
neglected them are ready with suit and service, even
where little or no personal advantage is to be derived.
Lucre is the more pleased to hear of his nephew's good
fortune because he anticipates that the widow's lands
may eventually pass from Witgood's possession to his
own. For some months he had refused to see Witgood,
but he now sends a messenger to say that his nephew
would be a welcome visitor. Witgood replies that he
is very much occupied, and he begs to be excused.
Lucre's eagerness is doubled ; he renews the invitation
in a more cordial manner. Presently Witgood arrives
and is congratulated by his uncle, who cheerfully under-
takes to supply his present necessities and stop the
mouths of importunate creditors. Then Witgood in-
troduces the widow, with whose appearance Lucre is
charmed. Meanwhile the news of the engagement has
been noised abroad, and the prodigal's creditors assemble
to congratulate him, vying with each other in pressing
their services upon him. The rumour reaches the ears
Introduction. xxxi
of Onesiphorous Hoard, Lucre's mortal enemy; and
Hoard determines to endeavour to supplant Witgood in
the widow's affections. Taking with him some trusty
companions to substantiate his statements, he goes to
the widow, exposes Witgood's former extravagances and
present poverty, and proposes himself as a more eligible
suitor. The widow professes herself vastly indignant
against Witgood and accepts Hoard in his stead. On
that very day she was to meet Lucre and Witgood in
order to make final arrangements for the marriage. There
is no time to be lost ; so it is agreed that under some
pretext she shall slip from Witgood's company, where-
upon Hoard and his friends will surprise her and carry
her by boat to the sanctuary of Cole Harbour, where
a parson shall be in attendance. Lucre is furious when
he discovers that the prize has been carried off by
his hated antagonist. Away he hies with his nephew
and friends to Cole Harbour. Hoard has no objec-
tion to discuss the situation, for the marriage has just
been secretly performed. The courtesan and Lucre
converse apart ; she pays him home soundly : did
he expect that she would marry a beggar? let him
restore the lands and then she will marry his nephew.
To thwart his adversary he gladly catches at the pro-
posal, and volunteers besides to make his nephew his
heir. When the mortgage has been given up, Lucre
learns that he has made the sacrifice too late. Mean-
while Witgood is still exercising his brain, anxious to
reap the full benefit of the situation. He asserts that
there was a pre-contract between himself and the widow,
xxxlv Introduction.
A Mad World, my Masters?- licensed on 12 th October
1608 and printed in the same year, is a pleasanter play
than the preceding. The characters of Sir Bounteous
Progress, the liberal knight who keeps open house for
all comers, and Harebrain, the jealous husband, yoked
to a demure light-o'-love, are very ably drawn ; and the
situations are worked out with the adroit briskness that
we admired in A Trick to Catch the Old One. The
deception practised by the counterfeit players recalls
the similar incident in the Mayor of Queenborough.
Middleton seems to have been tickled with the notion
of converting wanton wagtails into wives. In A Trick
to Catch the Old One, Witgood succeeded in marrying
his mistress to his wife's uncle ; in A Mad World the
tables are turned, and Follywit finds himself united to
his uncle's mistress. The victims in both cases submit
with a good grace. A large part of Mrs. Behn's City
Heiress, 1681, was conveyed from A Mad World.
In 1609 Middleton published a slight tract com-
memorating the exploits of the adventurous Sir Robert
Sherley, the youngest and most remarkable of the Three
English Brothers. 2 As the dedication to Sir Thomas
1 A pamphlet by Nicholas Breton, printed in 1603, bears the same
title. I suppose that "A mad world, my masters," was a sort of
proverbial expression.
2 An excellent account of these remarkable men is given in The
Sherley Brothers, an historical memoir of the lives of Sir Thomas
Sherley, Sir Anthony Sherley, and Sir Robert Sherley, Knights. By
one of the same house [the late Evelyn Philip Shirley, Esq.] Roxburghe
Club, 1848. The play of The Three English Brothers by Day,
Wilkins, and William Rowley, is reprinted in my edition of Day's
Works, 1881.
Introduction. xxxv
Sherley is subscribed " Thomas Middleton," I have felt
bound, against my inclination, to include this uninterest-
ing tract among our author's works.
The Roaring Girl, written in conjunction with Dekker,
was published in 1611. 1 Of Mary Frith, the Roaring
Girl, whose adventures are so graphically described by
the dramatists, I have given some account in a pre-
fatory note to the play (iv. 3-6). In the Address to the
Reader Middleton says : — "Worse things, I must needs
confess, the world has taxed her for than has been
written of her ; " and he concludes with the very proper
observation — " We rather wish in such discoveries,
where reputation lies bleeding, a slackness of truth than
fulness of slander." Under this judicious treatment the
Amazon of the Bankside becomes an attractive figure.
She moves among rowdies and profligates without suffer-
ing any contamination; she has the thews of a giant
and the gentleness of a child. Secure in her " armed
and iron maidenhood," and defying the breath of
scandal, she daffs the world aside and chooses a life
of frolic freedom. She can converse with rogues and
1 Mr. Fleay confidently fixes the date of composition before Novem-
ber 1604. "The date is proved by the allusion in it to Westward
Ho. This play was revised by Dekker about 1610-n." I need hardly
say that the allusion to Westward Ho proves nothing, for it would
have been quite as intelligible to the audience in 1611 as in 1604.
Besides, I strongly doubt whether Mary Frith had come into notoriety
so early as 1604. At the earliest computation she was not born before
1584-85. When Mr. Fleay says "this play was revised by Dekker,"
he is of course merely expressing his own belief, — not an ascertained
fact. My view is that the two authors worked on the play together,
and this view is clearly supported by internal evidence.
-xxvi Introduction.
poignant feelings sometimes found expression in lan-
guage which seems to have the air of insincerity. In
the fine scenes where Hippolito implores Bellafront to
abandon her vicious course of life, and again where he
strives to undo the effect of his former teaching, one
feels that the arguments and illustrations are enforced
with over-heated vehemence. This note of exaggeration
is never absent from Dekker's work ; he let his fancy
have full swing and did not write "with slower pen."
But he was the most natural of writers, lovable at all
points, full of simplicity and tenderness. The character
of Orlando Friscobaldo is drawn in Dekker's cheeriest,
sunniest manner. I would ascribe to Middleton the
scenes (i. 5 and iii. 1) where the gallants endeavour to
irritate the patient Candido. Bellafront's preparations
for receiving visitors, and the conduct of the gallants on
their arrival (ii. 1), closely recall a scene in Michaelmas
Term (iii. 1). In these scenes', and in a few comic
scenes of the Second Part, we recognise Middleton's
hand, but hardly elsewhere.
About the time when the First Part of The Honest
Whore was composed, Dekker went out of his way to
acknowledge a slight obligation under which he lay
towards Middleton. On the 15th March 1603-4, King
James, with the Queen and Prince Henry, paid a state
visit to the City, and Dekker was employed to write
a pageant for the occasion. When the pageant was
printed (1604), he appended to the speech of Zeal the
following note : — " If there be any glory to be won by
writing these lines, I do freely bestow it, as his due, on
Introduction. xxvii
Tho. Middleton, in whose brain they were begotten,
though they were delivered here : qua nos non fecimus
ipsi, vix ea nostra voco." As the speech is only sixty
lines long, it is curious— considering how indifferent the
dramatists were to literary etiquette — that he should
have made this acknowledgment. Had Middleton's
share in The Honest Whore been at all considerable, we
may be tolerably sure that his name would not have
been omitted from the title-page.
After 1604 Middleton published nothing until 1607,
in which year appeared The Phcenix 1 and Michaelmas
Term. Both these comedies are full of life and move-
ment. Phoenix, son of the Duke of Ferrara, is solicited
by his father, at the instance of some disaffected
courtiers, to travel in foreign parts that he may gain
observation and experience. He agrees to the pro-
posal, but requests that he may be accompanied only
by a single attendant, Fidelio ; for he suspects treachery,
and is determined to outwit the courtiers. Instead of
travelling abroad, he disguises himself and travels in
his own kingdom, with the intent not only to keep a
sharp eye on the courtiers, but to detect what abuses
are rife throughout the land. In the course of his per-
ambulations he discovers notable roguery. There is
Tangle, an "old busy turbulent fellow, a villainous
maltworm, that eats holes into poor men's causes,''
1 In vol. i. p. 101, I say that The Phcenix " was licensed by Sir
George Buc, 9th May 1607." I ought to have said " licensed for
•printing." So on p. 213 in regard to Michaelmas Term.
YOL. I, d
xxviii Introduction.
who talks in a legal jargon that becomes somewhat
tedious. Then there is . Falso, a justice of the peace,
who takes bribes on all sides, and keeps a set of rascally
serving-men, who employ their leisure in committing
highway robberies. We are also introduced to a jKorlh.-
less_ sea-captain, who has grown tired of his wife, and
signs a bond for the sale of her ; and to a wanton city
madam, who by robbing her husband supports a needy
knight for her pleasure. In this nest of villainy there
is found one honest man, Quieto, who (like Candido
in The Honest Whore) is at peace with everybody and
allows nothing to ruffle his equanimity. There is an
abundance of amusing intrigue and lively situations.
The poetry put into the mouth of Phcenix is of a
high order. Genuine eloquence is shown in the apos-
trophes to " sober Law, made with meek eyes, persuad-
ing action" (i. 4), and to "reverend and honourable
Matrimony" (ii. 2). The latter passage, as Dyce re-
marked, bears some resemblance to the lines beginning
" Hail, wedded Love ! " in the fourth book of Paradise
Lost.
In Michaelmas Term we see a young gentleman,
Master Easy, caught in the snares of a griping usurer,
Quomodo. Tighter and tighter in each successive
scene the meshes close round the victim. In the end
all comes right ; villainy overreaches itself, and Master
Easy not only gets back his lands, but is left in lawful
possession of the bloodsucker's wife, a spirited woman.
Michaelmas Term is full of excellent fun, and the reader
has only himself to blame if he fails to find amusement,
Introduction. xxix
Quomodo's one ambition was to be a landed proprietor.
When he sees that his dream is about to be realised,
his exultation is delightfully comic. He dwells with
gusto on the prospect of the Whitsun holidays, when
he will ride down to his estate in Essex " with a number
of citizens and their wives, some upon pillions, some
upon side-saddles," his son, Sim, riding ahead in a
peach-coloured taffeta jacket. There will be good store
of logs for Christmas ; and he intends to astonish the
citizens' wives by the quality of the fruit from his
orchard. His parting words to the victim whom he
has fleeced of everything are drolly cordial : — " If it
please you, sir, you know the house ; you may visit us
often, and dine with us once a quarter."
A ' Trick to Catch the Old One x and The Family of
Love were published in 1608 : the former had been
entered in the Stationers' Registers on 7th October 1607,
and the latter on the 12th of the same month. I do
not hesitate to endorse Langbaine's brief but emphatic
judgment on A Trick to Catch the Old One: — "This
is an excellent old play." The plot is as follows. An
improvident young gallant, Witgood, who has mortgaged
all his property to his usurious uncle, Lucre, repents of
his evil courses and is anxious to make a new start. He
pretends that he is the accepted suitor to a rich widow
from the country. The so-called widow is a courtesan,
1 A kind of proverbial saying. Cf. Day's Isle of Gulls, ii. 5 :-
" We are in the way to catch the old one?
xxx Introduction.
who throws herself into the scheme with uncommon
zest. A shrewd innkeeper is engaged as her serving-
man and despatched to Lucre's house to make inquiries
on his mistress's behalf about Witgood's fortunes. He
feigns to be unaware that he is addressing Witgood's
uncle ; he wants to hear from some sober citizen whether
■ the match contemplated by his mistress is d esirable, and
whether Witgood is a man of substance. Lucre pricks
up his ears at once. Poor relatives are a nuisance, but
when a timely stroke of luck promotes them to afflu-
ence, then the case is altered, and those who formerly
neglected them are ready with suit and service, even
where little or no personal advantage is to be derived.
Lucre is the more pleased to hear of his nephew's good
fortune because he anticipates that the widow's lands
may eventually pass from Witgood's possession to his
own. For some months he had refused to see Witgood,
but he now sends a messenger to say that his nephew
would be a welcome visitor. Witgood replies that he
is very much occupied, and he begs to be excused.
Lucre's eagerness is doubled ; he renews the invitation
in a more cordial manner. Presently Witgood arrives
and is congratulated by his uncle, who cheerfully under-
takes to supply his present necessities and stop the
mouths of importunate creditors. Then Witgood in-
troduces the widow, with whose appearance Lucre is
charmed. Meanwhile the news of the engagement has
been noised abroad, and the prodigal's creditors assemble
to congratulate him, vying with each other in pressing
their services upon him. The rumour reaches the ears
Introduction. xxxi
of Onesiphorous Hoard, Lucre's mortal enemy; and
Hoard determines to endeavour to supplant Witgood in
the widow's affections. Taking with him some trusty
companions to substantiate his statements, he goes to
the widow, exposes Witgood's former extravagances and
present poverty, and proposes himself as a more eligible
suitor. The widow professes herself vastly indignant
against Witgood and accepts Hoard in his stead. On
that very day she was to meet Lucre and Witgood in
order to make final arrangements for the marriage. There
is no time to be lost ; so it is agreed that under some
pretext she shall slip from Witgood's company, where-
upon Hoard and his friends will surprise her and carry
her by boat to the sanctuary of Cole Harbour, where
a parson shall be in attendance. Lucre is furious when
he discovers that the prize has been carried off by
his hated antagonist. Away he hies with his nephew
and friends to Cole Harbour. Hoard has no objec-
tion to discuss the situation, for the marriage has just
been secretly performed. The courtesan and Lucre
converse apart ; she pays him home soundly : did
he expect that she would marry a beggar? let him
restore the lands and then she will marry his nephew.
To thwart his adversary he gladly catches at the pro-
posal, and volunteers besides to make his nephew his
heir. When the mortgage has been given up, Lucre
learns that he has made the sacrifice too late. Mean-
while Witgood is still exercising his brain, anxious to
reap the full benefit of the situation. He asserts that
there was a pre-contract between himself and the widow,
xxxii Introduction.
and threatens to bring the matter into a court of law.
Hoard is violently alarmed, and eagerly adopts his wife's
proposal that Witgood should be bought off. At first
Witgood is inexorable — he will have law ; but finally he
consents to abandon his claim on condition that his
creditors' demands are satisfied. When this difficulty is
settled, Hoard prepares a marriage feast and invites his
friends, including Lucre andWitgood(who has meanwhile
secretly married Hoard's niece) among the guests. The
denouement is exceedingly amusing. Hoard's brother, on
being introduced to the bride, recognises Witgood's mis-
tress, and a scene of some confusion follows ; but finally
Hoard puts a good face on the matter and reminds the
guests that " the wedding dinner cools." It will be seen
that in writing this comedy Middleton was more anxious
to amuse than to teach a moral lesson. Grave moralists
may argue that it is reprehensible for a man to fasten his
cast-off mistress on his bride's uncle ; nor am I inclined
to dispute the reasonableness of the contention. But
we must not bring the squint looks of " budge doctors
of the stoic fur" to bear on these airy comedies of
intrigue. Middleton could moralise severely enough
when the occasion required ; but in the present instance
his aim was to provide entertainment, and he succeeds
admirably. It is impossible not to admire the happy
dexterity with which the mirthful situations are multiplied.
The interest never flags for a moment, but is heightened
at every turn.
The Family of Love is written with Middleton's usual
freedom and facility. As he had been before the public
Introduction. xxxiii
for some years, it is curious to note the modesty with
which he refers to himself in the prologue : —
" If, for opinion hath not blaz'd his fame,
Nor expectation filled the general round,
You deem his labours slight," &c.
In the Address to the Reader he mentions that the play
was in the press before he had notice of it, " by which
means some faults may escape in the printing ; " and
he adds that " it passed the censure of the stage with
a general applause."
Your Five Gallants was entered in the Stationers'
Registers on 22d March 1607-8, under the title of
Fyve Wittie Gallants. The quarto, which is very care-
lessly printed, bears no date, but was probably published
in 1608. The five gallants are "the broker gallant,"
"the bawd gallant," "the cheating gallant," " the pocket
gallant," "the whore gallant," — a choice fraternity of
vagabonds, whose manner of life is described with much
gusto. There is an allusion in iv. 2 to the closing of
playhouses in time of plague. The year 1607 was a
plague-year. On 1 2th April the Lord Mayor in a letter
to the Lord Chamberlain announced that the plague was
increasing in the skirts and confines of the city ; and
suggested that orders should be given to the justices of
Middlesex to interdict the performance of stage-plays
at Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Clerkenwell, and other out-
lying districts. 1
1 See Analytical Index of the] Series of Records known as the
Rememirancia, p. 337.
xxxiv Introduction.
A Mad World, my Masters?- licensed on 12 th October
1608 and printed in the same year, is a pleasanter play
than the preceding. The characters of Sir Bounteous
Progress, the liberal knight who keeps open house for
all comers, and Harebrain, the jealous husband, yoked
to a demure light-o'-love, are very ably drawn ; and the
situations are worked out with the adroit briskness that
we admired in A Trick to Catch the Old One. The
deception practised by the counterfeit players recalls
the similar incident in the Mayor of Queenborough.
Middleton seems to have been tickled with the notion
of converting wanton wagtails into wives. In A Trick
to Catch the Old One, Witgood succeeded in marrying
his mistress to his wife's uncle ; in A Mad World the
tables are turned, and Follywit finds himself united to
his uncle's mistress. The victims in both cases submit
with a good grace. A large part of Mrs. Behn's City
Heiress, 1681, was conveyed from A Mad World.
In 1609 Middleton published a slight tract com-
memorating the exploits of the adventurous Sir Robert
Sherley, the youngest and most remarkable of the Three
English Brothers. 2 As the dedication to Sir Thomas
1 A pamphlet by Nicholas Breton, printed in 1603, bears the same
title. I suppose that "A mad world, my masters," was a sort of
proverbial expression.
2 An excellent account of these remarkable men is given in The
Sherley Brothers, an historical memoir of the lives of Sir Thomas
Sherley, Sir Anthony Sherley, and Sir Robert Sherley, Knights. By
one of the same house [the late Evelyn Philip Shirley, Esq.] Roxburghe
Club, 1848. The play of The Three English Brothers by Day,
Wilkins, and William Rowley, is reprinted in my edition of Day's
Works, 1881.
Introduction. xxxv
Sherley is subscribed " Thomas Middleton," I have felt
bound, against my inclination, to include this uninterest-
ing tract among our author's works.
The Roaring Girl, written in conjunction with Dekker,
was published in 1611. 1 Of Mary Frith, the Roaring
Girl, whose adventures are so graphically described by
the dramatists, I have given some account in a pre-
fatory note to the play (iv. 3-6). In the Address to the
Reader Middleton says: — "Worse things, I must needs
confess, the world has taxed her for than has been
written of her ; " and he concludes with the very proper
observation — " We rather wish in such discoveries,
where reputation lies bleeding, a slackness of truth than
fulness of slander." Under this judicious treatment the
Amazon of the Bankside becomes an attractive figure.
She moves among rowdies and profligates without suffer-
ing any contamination; she has the thews of a giant
and the gentleness of a child. Secure in her " armed
and iron maidenhood," and defying the breath of
scandal, she daffs the world aside and chooses a life
of frolic freedom. She can converse with rogues and
1 Mr. Fleay confidently fixes the date of composition before Novem-
ber 1604. "The date is proved by the allusion in it to Westward
Ho. This play was revised by Dekker about 1610-n." I need hardly
say that the allusion to Westward Ho proves nothing, for it would
have been quite as intelligible to the audience in 1611 as in 1604.
Besides, I strongly doubt whether Mary Frith had come into notoriety
so early as 1604. At the earliest computation she was not born before
1584-85. When Mr. Fleay says "this play was revised by Dekker,"
he is of course merely expressing his own belief, — not an ascertained
fact. My view is that the two authors worked on the play together,
and this view is clearly supported by internal evidence.
xxxvi Introduction.
cheats in their cant language, and knows all their tricks
and subterfuges. Her hand is heavy on swaggerers, but
she has a woman's ear for a tale of lovers' distress, and
is quick to render efficient aid. The conception is
strikingly fresh and original. We can distinguish, I
think, with some approach to exactness, Middleton's
share from Dekker's. Throughout the first act Dekker's
hand is clearly traceable. The description of the fur-
niture in Sir Alexander Wengrave's house is quite in
Dekker's vein of fantastic extravagance, and is closely
paralleled by similar descriptions in the Wonder of a
Kingdom. When Sir Alexander says —
" Then, sir, below
The very floor, as 'twere, waves to and fro,
And like a floating island seems to move
Upon a sea bound in with shores above,"
we are at once reminded of Torrenti's boast in a Wonder
of a Kingdom —
" I'll pave my great hall with a floor of clouds,
Wherein shall move an artificial sun,
Reflecting round about me golden beams,
Whose flames shall make the room seem all on fire.''
The dullest reader must perceive that the same fancy
was at work in both instances. Middleton never in-
dulged in these airy extravagances. Sir Bounteous in
A Mad World has far homelier notions of magnificence.
The second act opens precisely in Middleton's manner.
The very names of the characters — Laxton, Goshawk,
Greenwit, Gallipot, &c. — are evidence in his favour.
Introduction. xxxvii
This style of nomenclature, which Middleton commonly
adopted in his comedies, was not affected by Dekker.
Then the characters are just such as we find in other
plays of Middleton. Mistress Gallipot may be compared
with Mistress Purge in The Family of Love or with Falso's
Daughter in The Phoenix ; and Mistress Openwork, the
jealous scold, is a repetition of Mistress Glister in The
Family of Love. The dialogue is conducted with Mid-
dleton's usual smartness and rapidity. The second
scene of act ii., where Sir Alexander, having overheard
his son courting Moll, implores him to abandon the suit,
has Dekker's naturalness of sentiment and fluency -of
metre, a not unpleasing mixture of blank verse and
rhyme. Act iii. is mainly by Middleton : the feigning
of the precontract in the second scene is a repetition of
the device in A Trick to Catch the Old One; the con-
duct of Laxton and Gallipot is precisely the same as that
of Witgood and Hoard. As to iv. i, where young Wen-
grave brings the Roaring Girl to his father's house, I am
not at all sure about the authorship, but I incline to
Middleton ; the next scene, before Gallipot's house, is
evidently Middleton's for the most part, but the rhymed
speeches at the end seem to belong to Dekker. The
whole of the fifth act I would ascribe to Dekker. Those
who have read Dekker's Bellman of London and Lan-
thorn and Candlelight are aware that he made a special
study of the cant language of thieves. He has turned
this knowledge to account very largely in the last act of
the present play.
We next hear of Middleton in 1613, when he was
xxxvili Introduction.
employed to write a pageant, The Triumphs of Truth, to
celebrate the Mayoralty of Sir Thomas Middleton. 1
There are two editions of the pageant, and to the second
is appended the " manner of his lordship's entertain-
ment " at the opening of the New River Head. Pageants
are usually tedious, and The Triumphs of Truth is no ex-
ception to the rule. The speeches are smoothly written,
but the songs are poor. The pageant seems to have
been mounted on a costly scale, and some of the em-
blematic inventions are curious. Envy was represented
"eating of a human heart, mounted on a rhinoceros,
attired in red silk, suitable to the bloodiness of her
manners." One of the chief features of the pageant was
an emblematic representation of the Grocers' Company
(to which Sir Thomas Middleton belonged) in a water-
spectacle : — "Then ... his Lordship and the worthy
company are led forward toward the water-side, where
you shall find the river decked in the richest glory to re-
ceive him ; upon whose crystal bosom stands five islands,
artfully garnished with all manner of Indian fruit-trees,
drugs, spiceries and the like ; the middle island with a
fair castle especially beautified ; " the castle representing
the newly-established forts of the East-India Company.
It must have been peculiarly gratifying to the Lord
Mayor to read the following exordium, in which modern
readers will find a spice of satirical humour : — " Search
all chronicles, histories, records, in what language or
1 Judging from the dedication, there appears to have been no rela-
tionship between the dramatist and Sir Thomas Middleton.
Introdtiction. xxxix
letter soever; let the inquisitive man waste the dear
treasures of his time and eyesight, he shall conclude his
life only in this certainty, that there is no subject upon
earth received into the place of his government with the
like state and magnificence as is the Lord Mayor of the
city of London." What eloquence ! what a climax ! That
sentence ought to be written in letters of gold and set
up in the Mansion House as a monument in perpetuum.
Middleton then proceeds to impress on the civic autho-
rities the necessity of employing a competent pageant-
writer, one whose invention can match the brilliancy of
the scenic shows. I am sorry to add that he takes the
opportunity to deal a blow at Anthony Munday : — " It
would heartily grieve any understanding spirit to behold,
many times, so glorious a fire in bounty and goodness
offering to match itself with freezing art, sitting in dark-
ness with the candle out, looking like the picture of
Black Monday." Munday came in for plenty of knocks,
but his poetical credit stood high in the city ; and, in
spite of Middleton's sneer, he was employed as pageant-
maker during the next three years.
On 4th January 1613-14, a masque by Middleton,
The Mash of Cupid, which was never printed, and of
which no MS. is known to exist, was performed at the
Merchant Tailors' Hall, as we learn from the following
entry in the City Records (under date 18th January
1613-14) : — "Item: it is ordered by the Court that
Thomas Middleton Gent, shall be forthwith allowed
upon his bill of particulars such recompense and charges,
as the committees lately appointed for the ordering of
xl Introduction.
the late solemnities at Merchant Tailors' Hall shall think
meet, for all his disbursements and pains taken by him
and others in the last Mask of Cupid, and other shows
lately made at the aforesaid Hall by the said Mr. Mid-
dleton." 1 The solemnities were in honour of the recent
marriage of Robert Kerr, Earl of Somerset, to Lady
Frances Howard. In Howes' continuation of Stowe's
Annates (ed. 1615, p. 928) there is an account of the
magnificent reception of the infamous pair at Mer-
chant Tailors' Hall.
The comedy No Wit, No Help like a Woman's, pub-
lished in 1657, bears some indications of having been
written circ. 1613. Weatherwise, in iii. 1, says : — "If I,
that have proceeded in five and twenty such books of
astronomy [i.e. almanacs], should not be able to put
down a scholar now in one thousand six hundred and
thirty-eight, the dominical letter being G, I stood for a
goose." Among Shirley's Poems, 1646, is a prologue to
a play (acted in Dublin) called No Wit to a Woman's.
This play was without doubt Middleton's, and the
passage quoted above — which suggests the date 1613-14
— was introduced by Shirley on the occasion of the
revival of the play at Dublin. Of course Shirley may
have been reckoning in round numbers; and perhaps
we ought not to put too literal a construction upon the
words. From Weatherwise's references to his almanac,
we gather that the play was produced in June. It is
one of Middleton's ablest comedies, but it leaves a
1 Quoted by Dyce from Rep. No. 31 (Part II.) fol. 239 i.
Introduction. xli
somewhat unpleasant taste in the mouth. The charac-
ters have more variety than in the earlier comedies.
Sir Oliver Twilight is a very humorous and original
creation. He will not part with a penny-piece to his
son and daughter at their marriage ; but they are wel-
come to live with their partners under his roof and have
all their wants supplied : —
" 'Tis his pride
To have his children's children got successively
On his forefathers' feather-beds."
Equally original is Weatherwise, who regulates all his
actions by the signs of the zodiac. Savourwit, Sir Oliver's
servant, is a fellow of infinite resources and matchless
impudence. The deception practised by Mrs. Low-water,
in assuming man's apparel and going through a mock
marriage with the wealthy Lady Goldenfieece, would be
. a hazardous experiment on the modern stage ; but Eliza-
bethan audiences were accustomed to such exhibitions.
Philip Twilight is an unsatisfactory character. His
mother and sister on their passage to Guernsey had fallen
into the hands of privateers, had been separated and sold.
After nine years comes a letter from the mother —
" Which related all
Their taking, selling, separation,
And never meeting ; and withal requir'd
Six hundred crowns for ransom."
Philip Twilight is sent by his father with the ransom ;
but instead of applying the money to its proper uses he
spends it on his own pleasure, While thus employed
xlii Introduction.
he meets with "a sweet young gentlewoman, but one
that would not sell her honour for the Indies." He
secretly marries her, and brings her home to his father's
house as his long-lost sister, pretending that he has re-
ceived sure intelligence abroad of his mother's death.
With the fortunes of a damnable young scoundrel who
shows such heartless disregard for his mother's suffering
it is difficulty to have any sympathy. Probably Mid-
dleton was following some Italian novel, but it is a pity
that he did not represent young Twilight under a plea-
santer aspect.
A Chaste Maid in Cheapside, printed in 1630, is stated
on the title-page to have been performed by the Lady
Elizabeth's servants at the Swan on the Bankside. I
take it on the authority of Mr. Fleay 1 (who has made a
special study of the perplexing history of the theatrical
companies between 1576 and 1642), that there was no
Princess Elizabeth's company before 161 1, and that
before 161 7 the company had removed to the Cockpit
in Drury Lane. Mr. Fleay reminds me (in a private
communication) of the statement made by John Taylor,
that early in 1613 "all the players except the King's
men had left their usual residency in the Bankside and
played in Middlesex, far remote from the Thames."
But as the Princess Elizabeth's company may have
acted occasionally at the Swan after this date, I am not
inclined to think that we are justified in saying that the
Chaste Maid must have been produced in or before 1613.
1 See his privately printed tract On the History of the Theatres in
London, 1882.
Introduction. xliii
The company appears to have left the Bankside be-
cause it was unable to compete with the King's men.
After the destruction of the Globe (June 1613), when
their too powerful rivals repaired to Blackfriars, the
Princess Elizabeth's company may have returned to
their old quarters. The Chaste Maid is the only
extant play that we know to have been acted at the
Swan. The play is exceedingly diverting, but I cannot
conscientiously commend it virginibus puerisque, for the
language and situations occasionally show an audacious
disregard for propriety. Lamb quoted the exquisitely
droll soliloquy in which Master Allwitt, the contented
cuckold, describes the blessedness of his lot. If the
reader, disregarding the anathemas of virtuous critics,
gives the Chaste Maid a hearing, I can promise him
plenty of entertainment.
Civitatis Amor was written to celebrate Charles's
assumption of the title of Prince of Wales (4th No-
vember 1616). As the signature "Thomas Middleton "
is found in the middle of the pageant, after the song
of Peace, it is not improbable that another hand wrote
the later part. We may dismiss without comment The
Triumphs of 'Honour and Industry, 1617; The Inner
Temple Masque, 1619; and The Triumphs of Love and
Antiquity, 16 19.
In 1 61 7 appeared the admirable play A Fair Quarrel,
in which Middleton was assisted by Rowley ; a second
edition with additional comic matter followed in the
same year. Lamb quoted in his Specimens the duel
scene and the scene where Captain Ager before the
vol. 1. e
xliv Introduction.
duel seeks to be resolved of his mother's honour from
her own lips. The exquisite criticism which Lamb
passed upon those scenes will be familiar to every reader.
It may be said without hesitation that, outside Shake-
speare's highest works, there is nothing in the English
drama more affecting, nothing nobler, than the colloquy
between Captain Ager and his mother. That scene and
the duel scene I believe to belong to Middleton. To such
a height of moral dignity and artistic excellence Rowley
never attained. We may safely assign to Rowley the
boisterous comic scenes. Middleton's humour is of a
quieter character ; he had little liking for noisy horse-play.
Apart from the scenes where Captain Ager and the
Colonel are concerned, I cannot trace Middleton's hand
with any clearness. At the end of the first act Rowley's
metrical harshness strikes upon the ear, and through-
out the scenes relating to Fitzallen and Jane we sel-
dom escape from it. The incident of the Physician
tempting Jane is very unpleasant, but powerfully treated.
Rowley was a writer of high ability, but he was sadly
wanting in artistic form and refinement. 1 He is too
blunt and emphatic, — there is too much of the fortiter
in modo.
In Calendar of Domestic State Papers, under date 19th
July 1618, I find — "Licence to Win. Alley, at nomina-
1 "The plot of Fitzallen, Russell, and Jane," says Langbaine, "is
founded, as I believe, on some Italian novel, and may be read in
English in the Complaisant Companion^ octavo, p. 280. That part
of the Physician tempting Jane and then accusing her, is founded on
a novel of Cynthio Giraldi. See Dec. 4, Nov. 5."
Introduction. xlv
tion of Thomas Middleton, of the sole printing and
publishing of a book by Middleton called The Peace-
maker, or Great Britain's Blessing." The pamphlet here
mentioned was printed anonymously in the same year
by Thomas Purfoot, and a second edition appeared in
1619. In the British Museum Catalogue it is ascribed
to King James ; and the mistake is not surprising, for
Middleton was hoaxing his readers — posing before the
public as his royal master. The preliminary address
"to all our true-loving and peace-embracing subjects"
reads like James's ipsissima verba. There is an attempt
throughout to keep up the deception; but occasional
hints show clearly enough that James was not the writer.
In sig. b. 1 we have " Let England then (the seat of
our Salomon) rejoice in her happy government." It is
too absurd to suppose that James would refer to him-
self as " our Salomon." A great part of the pamphlet
is taken up with a tirade against the practice of duelling,
which had been denounced five years earlier in "A
Publication of His Majesty's Edict and severe Censure
against private Combats and Combatants." The circum-
stances connected with the publication of The Peacemaker
are most mysterious. Perhaps Middleton applied to
James to allow the pamphlet to be issued with the
royal imprimatur, and it is possible that James complied
by writing the preliminary address - t but more probably
the whole business was an elaborate joke on Middleton's
part. The virtuous indignation expressed against tobacco
must have pleased James: — " That witch Tobacco, which
hath quite blown away the smoke of Hospitality and
xlvi Introduction.
turned the chimneys of their forefathers into the noses
of their children." The vein of pedantry (assumed for
the nonce) must have been equally gratifying to the
wise fool. I am puzzled by the pamphlet.
Much more trouble than usually went to the writing of
masques appears to have been spent on The World Tost at
Tennis, 1620. 1 Ben Jonson said that "next himself only
Fletcher and Chapman could make a masque ; " but Mid-
dleton and Rowley have amply proved their ability on
the present occasion. The invention is ingenious, the
speeches are finely written, and the songs are smooth.
First comes an Induction, consisting of a lively colloquy
between the "the three ancient and principal recep-
tacles," Richmond, St. James's, and Denmark House.
Richmond is jealous of the prestige acquired by Den-
mark House, who in very graceful language quiets her
fears by the assurance that all three sisters shall be held
in equal honour : —
" The round year
In her circumferent arms will fold us all^
1 " In all the copies, says Dyce, "of this masque that I have seen,
a portion of the letterpress has been cut off from the bottom of the
title-page by the binder. " The copy before me has the letterpress cut
away at the top, but preserves the date 1620 at the bottom : on the
title-page is an emblematic engraving. This copy, which is bound up
with some quartos of Rowley's plays, belongs to the library of Worcester
College, Oxford. I take this opportunity of thanking the Provost and
Fellows of that society for their generosity in lending me at various
times rare quartos from the fine dramatic collection in the College
Library. There are three copies of The World Tost at Tennis in the
British Museum. In one the title-page is plain and bears the date
1620 ; in the other two — which have the emblematic engraving — the
date has been cut away.
Introduction. xlvii
And give us all employment seasonable.
I am for colder hours, when the bleak air
Bites with an icy tooth : when summer has sear'd,
And autumn all discolour'd, laid all fallow,
Pleasure taken house and dwells within doors,
Then shall my towers smoke and comely show :
But when again the fresher morn appears,
And the soft spring renews her velvet head,
St. James's take my blest inhabitants,
For she can better entertain them then,
In larger grounds, in park, sports and delights :
Yet a third season, with the western oars,
Calls up to Richmond, when the high-heated year
Is in her solsticy ; then she affords
More sweeter-breathing air, more bounds, more pleasures ;
The hounds' loud music to the flying stag,
The feathered talenter to the falling bird,
The bowman's twelve-score prick even at the door,
And to these I could add a hundred more."
The masque opens with a dialogue, marked in the early-
parts by Rowley's metrical irregularity, between a soldier
and a scholar. While they are deploring the neglect
shown to men of their profession, Pallas descends and
chides them for their discontent. She begins by affirm-
ing that there should be no divorce between arts and
arms, —
" For he's the complete man partakes of both,
The soul of arts join'd with the flesh of valour,
And he alone participates with me."
She then proceeds to preach a homily in praise of
poverty. The soldier ventures to respectfully reply,
"there's yet a competence which we come short of."
To this Pallas rejoins that the cause may be as much
xlviii Introduction.
"in your own negligence as our slow blessings;" but
they shall prefer their complaints to Jupiter, who pre-
sently descends to the sound of music. Jupiter delivers
his views after a very trenchant fashion : —
'"Tis more than Jupiter
Can do to please 'em : unsatisfied man
Has in his ends no end ; not hell's abyss
Is deeper gulf d than greedy avarice ;
Ambition finds no mountain high enough
For his aspiring foot to stand upon :
One drinks out all his blessings into surfeits,
Another throws 'em out as all were his,
And the gods bound for prodigal supply :
What is he lives content in any kind ?
That long-incensed Nature is now ready
To turn all back into the fruitless chaos. "
Then to show the malcontents what in old time " arts
and arms commixt . . . did in the world's broad face,"
Pallas calls on the Muses to lead in the Nine Worthies.
When this show is ended and Jupiter is again beginning
to chide his petitioners, Time enters weeping and ex-
plains the causes of his sorrow, — how landlords and
usurers greedily long for his coming, but when he arrives
they bend their plodding heads over their money-bags,
let him pass unnoticed and then instantly sigh for his
return ; the lawyer drives him off from term to term ; the
prodigal sickens him with surfeits; the drunkard sets
him on his head topsy-turvy ; all the women hate him,
and with " gloss and pencilry " wipe off the impression
that he sets upon their cheeks. Time having retired,
Jupiter denounces vain-glorious pride, and to rebuke
Introduction. xlix
modern extravagance in the matter of apparel, summons
the Five Starches (daughters of Deceit), who perform a
grotesque dance, and after a short dispute for precedency
retire. Jupiter now descends from his aerial machine,
and " to show the strange removes of the world, places
the orb, whose figure it bears, in the midst of the stage ; "
whereupon Simplicity enters, takes up the orb and
moralises on the changes that have been effected in the
world. While he is thus engaged Deceit enters ; a
dialogue follows, in which Deceit strives to gain the
good graces of Simplicity, but is obliged to retire dis-
comfited. Then is heard within a reaper's song in
praise of Simplicity. Presently Deceit re-enters in com-
pany with a King. Simplicity resigns the orb to the
king ; Deceit offers to relieve the king of the burthen,
but his offer is rejected with scorn and he slinks away,
returning successively with a Land-captain, a Sea-captain,
a Flamen, and a Lawyer, who each in turn receive the
orb, and who are all equally resolute in refusing to
resign it to Deceit. Finally the orb is given back to the
king ; Deceit, in company with the Devil (who arrived at
a late stage of the proceedings), finding himself baffled at
all points, withdraws not to return ; and the others, after
an exhortation from the king, presently follow, leav-
ing the original characters in possession of the stage.
Jupiter then delivers a valedictory address to the soldier
and scholar, impressing upon them that it will be their
own fault if they fail to prosper, for never was a brighter
career open for soldiers and scholars. He alludes
specially to James' patronage of learning, and to the
1 Introduction.
opportunities offered by the war in the Palatinate. The
malcontents recant and the masque closes. There is
one great merit in The World Tost at Tennis ; it is not
tedious, as masques so frequently are. The verse was
something more than a peg on which to hang the
costumes. By the fireside it can be read with pleasure,
and, handsomely mounted, it must have been received
on the stage with applause.
On 6th September 1620 Middleton was appointed
to the office of City Chronologer. His appointment
is thus recorded 1 in the City Records : —
" 1620, 6th September, 18th James I. — Thomas Mid-
dleton, admitted City Chronologer. Item, this day
was read in Court (of Aldermen) a petition of Thomas
Middleton, Gent,, and upon consideration thereof taken,
and upon the sufficient testimony this Court hath received
of his services performed to this City, this Court is well
pleased to entertain and admit the said Thomas Middleton
to collect and set down all memorable acts of this City
and occurrences thereof, and for such other employ-
ments as this Court shall have occasion to use him in ;
but the said Thomas Middleton is not to put any of the
same acts so by him to be collected into print without
the allowance and approbation of this Court; and for the
readiness of his service to the City in the same employ-
ments this Court does order that he shall receive from
henceforth, out of the Chamber of London, a yearly fee
1 Analytical Index to the Series of Records known as the Remem-
brancia (printed for the Corporation in 1878), p. 305, n. The exact
date of Middleton's appointment was unknown to Dyce.
Introduction. li
of 61. 135. 4J." On 20th November l of the same year
his salary was raised to ten pounds. On 17th April
1621a Freedom was granted to him towards his expenses,
and on 7th May 1622 another Freedom was granted
for his better encouragement in his labours. On 17th
September 1622, for his further encouragement, he
received a gift of fifteen pounds, and on 6th February
1622-23 another gift of twenty pounds. On 24th April
1623 another Freedom was granted to him, and on
2d September 1623, for his services at the shooting
on Bunhill and at the Conduit Head before the Lord
Mayor and Aldermen, he was rewarded with twenty
marks. We learn from Oldys' annotated copy of Lang-
baine (preserved in the British Museum) that Middleton's
MS. City Chronicle was extant in the last century.
" There are two MSS. of this Author's [Middleton's] in
being which have never been taken notice of in any
Acco' of him. They were sold in an Auction of Books
at the Apollo Coffee House in Fleet Street ab' the year
1735 by Edw Lewis, but pufFd up to a great price, bought
back, & coud not afterw' 13 be recovered. They are
entitled I. Annates : or a Continuation of Chronologie ;
conteyninge Passages and Occurrences proper to the
Honno ble Citty of London : Beginninge in the Yeare of
our Lorde 1620. By Thomas Midleton then received
by their Honno ble Senate as Chronologer for the Cittye.
1 This is the date given in Remembrancia, p. 305, n. According to
the extract which had been famished to Dyce, the increase of salary
was granted on 23d January 1620-21.
Hi Introduction.
There are in it these Articles under the year 1621. — On
Good Fryday in the Morn died John (King) Lord Bp.
of London. — 28 May Fra. L d Verulam committed to the
Tower. (Seal taken from him the last day of April). —
27 Dec r . S r Edw d Coke Committed to the Tower.— Dec r .
The Fortune Play House, situate between White Cross
Street and Golding Lane, burnt, &c. II. Middletoris
Farrago: In which there is — The Earl of Essex his
Charge agt' Vise' Wimbleton, & the Vise" Answ'.— The
Treaty and Articles of Marriage between Pr. Cha : &
Hen : Maria. — Parliamentary Matters, 1625-26. —
Habeas Corpus 1627, &c."
Before we come to the consideration of the final group
of tragedies and romantic comedies in which Middleton's
genius was shown at its highest, it will be convenient to
discuss The Witch. This tragi-comedy (first printed by
Isaac Reed in 1770, from a MS. then in the possession
of Major Pearson, and now preserved in the Malone
Collection at Oxford) has received, owing to its Shake-
spearean interest, more attention than it deserves on its
own merits. It is strangely ill-constructed and is not
by any means one of Middleton's finest works, though
uncritical writers have absurdly advanced it to the
first place. In the MS. the play is stated to have been
"long since acted by his Majesty's servants.at the Black-
friars." We must not lay too much stress on the words
" long since," as though they carried us back for many
years. The King's men were not acting regularly at the
Blackfriars before June 16 13, when, at the destruction
of the Globe, they had to seek fresh quarters. After the
Introduction. liii
rebuilding of the Globe, they kept both houses for their
own use. 1 This external evidence does not amount to
much; for the King's men, though not regularly em-
ployed at the Blackfriars before 1613, may have acted
there occasionally in earlier years. But looking at The
Witch in connection with Middleton's other plays (and
this is what previous critics have neglected to do), I should
certainly refer it to the later part of his career, — to the
period when he was no longer content with composing
lively comedies of intrigue, but was turning his attention
towards subjects of deeper moment. We have seen
that (with the doubtful exception of The Mayor of
Queenborough, which I consider to be a revised version
of an early play) A Fair Quarrel, 1616-17, is the
first of Middleton's plays in which the serious interest
predominates. Without attempting to fix the exact date
of Macbeth, we can with confidence refer it to 1606-10.
In April 16 10 Dr. Simon Forman witnessed a perform-
ance of Macbeth at the Globe. Now between the years
1606 and 161 o Middleton wrote The Phmnix, Michaelmas
Term, A Trick to Catch the Old One, The Family of Love,
Your Five Gallants, A Mad World my Masters, and a
portion of The Roaring Girl (published in 161 1). He
had established his position as a writer of comedies of
intrigue, and there is not a shred of evidence to show
that he made during those years any essay in the direc-
tion of tragedy or tragi-comedy. Let us next consider the
relation between Macbeth and The Witch. It is only in
1 I am again relying on Mr. Fleay's History of Theatres, p. 4.
liv Introduction.
the incantation scenes that the resemblance 1 appears.
As to the essential difference between the witches of
Shakespeare and Middleton, it would be presumption in
an editor to attempt to add anything to Lamb's ex-
quisite criticism. The hags in Ben Jonson's Masque of
Queens (1609) conduct their rites after much the same
fashion as Shakespeare's weird sisters. But to guide
him in selecting the ingredients for Hecate's hell-broth,
Shakespeare needed not the wealth of learning which
Ben Jonson displayed in the footnotes of his masque.
The reports of the trials of the Scotch witches and
Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft would have furnished him
with all the details that he required. It is not at all
surprising that the incantation scenes in Macbeth should
bear a general resemblance to the similar scenes in The
Witch ; indeed, it would be more extraordinary not to
find such resemblance. But the difficulty lies in this fact,
that the stage-directions in Macbeth contain allusions to
two songs which are found in Middleton's Witch. At
the close of Hecate's speech in iii. 5, after the words
" And you all know Security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy,"
the folio gives the stage-direction "Music and a Song."
Hecate them exclaims —
" Hark, I am called, my little spirit, see
Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me ; "
1 Middleton frequently imitates in other plays Shakespearean expres-
sions ; so we need not be surprised to find echoes from Macbeth
in occasional passages of The Witch. These petty larcenies prove
nothing.
Introdttction. lv
and another stage-direction follows, " Sing within. ' Come
away, come away,' &c." I quote in full the passage of
The Witch (iii. 3.) where this song occurs : —
" Song above.
Come away, come away,
Hecate, Hecate, come away !
Hec. I come, I come, I come, I come,
With all the speed I may,
With all the speed I may.
Where's Stadlin ?
[Voice above.~\ Here,
Hec. Where's Puckle?
[ Voice above.] Here ;
And Hoppo too, and Hellwain too ;
We lack but you, we lack but you ;
Come away, make up the count.
Hec. I will but 'noint, and then I mount.
[A Spirit like a cat descends.
[ Voice above.] There's one comes down to fetch his dues,
A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood ;
And why thou stay'st so long
I muse, I muse,
Since the air's so sweet and good.
Hec. O, art thou come ?
What news, what news ?
Spirit. All goes still to our delight :
Either come, or else
Refuse, refuse.
Hec. Now I'm furnish'd for the flight.
Fire. Hark, hark, the cat sings a brave treble in her own
language.
Hec. [Going' up.] Now I go, now I fly,
Malkin my sweet spirit and I.
O what a dainty pleasure 'tis
To ride in the air
When the moon shines fair,
lvi Introduction.
And sing and dance and toy and kiss !
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains,
Over seas, our mistress' fountains,
Over steep[y] towers and turrets,
We fly by night, 'mongst troops of spirits :
No ring of bells to our ears sounds,
No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds ;
No, not the noise of cannons' breach,
Or cannons' throat our height can reach.
[Voices above.] No ring of bells," &c.
Again, in Macbeth, iv. i, after Hecate's words —
" And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in,"
occurs the stage-direction " Music and a Song. 'Black
Spirits,' " &c. In The Witch, v. 2, we find—
" Hec. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm.
A charm-song about a vessel.
Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may !
Titty, Tiffin,
Keep it stiff in ;
Fire-drake, Puckey,
Make it lucky ;
Liard Robin,
You must bob in.
Round, around, around, about, about !
All ill come running in, all good keep out."
It is to be noticed that the songs found in the MS. of
The Witch occur (with slight variations) in Daveuant's
alteration of Macbeth, 1674. Now, looking at the first
passage (" Come away, come away," &c), it is plain to
Introduction. lvii
the dullest reader that, though the first five lines are in
every way appropriate, what follows before we reach
Hecate's airy song is grotesquely out of keeping with the
solemnity of Shakespeare's Hecate. The fantastic lines
" Now I go, now I fly," &c, are undoubtedly fine as we
read them in The Witch, but, transferred to Macbeth, they
wantonly disturb our conception of the awful personage
who has just announced —
' ' This night I'll spend
Unto a dismal and a fatal end."
In regard to the second passage, it is equally clear that
only the two first lines and the two last could be attri-
buted to Shakespeare, — and the two last lines may be
dismissed without difficulty. It would be reasonable to
assume that five lines of the first passage and two (or
four) of the second belong to Macbeth, and were omitted
from the copy used by the editors of the First Folio.
It was not unusual to omit songs from the printed copies
of plays : none of Lyly's charming songs, for example,
are included in the first editions of his plays. But the
editors of the First Folio were more careful in this re-
spect, and I can only suppose that the copy from which
they printed was slightly imperfect. Macbeth bears other
traces of having been printed from a faulty transcript.
Certainly no competent critic would deny that the
second scene of the first act has descended in an im-
perfect state. If my view is correct that The Witch
was written after Macbeth, Middleton would of course
have studied Shakespeare's play; and it is not at all
lviii Introduction.
surprising that he should have taken these songs and
expanded them. Nor, again, need we be amazed at the
fact that Davenant was in possession of a playhouse
copy of Macbeth containing additions from Middleton's
play. The players dealt with Shakespeare's text as with
any ordinary playwright's ; they saw an opportunity of
giving more " business " to Hecate and the witches by
conveying passages from Middleton, and they were
indifferent to the fact that they were degrading Shake-
speare's creations. It is only, I repeat, in the incanta-
tion scenes that there is any resemblance between
Middleton's poor play and Shakespeare's masterpiece.
Yet, strange to relate, there have been found in our
own day scholars 1 who have proposed to hand over to
Middleton some of the finest passages in Macbeth. It
will be enough for me to say that there is not a shadow
or tittle of evidence, whether internal or external, to sup-
port these assertions.
Among the Conway papers in the Record Office is a
MS. " Invention by Thomas Middleton, being a musical
allegory performed for the service of Edward Bark-
ham, Lord Mayor of London, when he entertained his
brother aldermen at a feast in the Easter holidays, Ap. 22,
1622." I have printed it for the first time; it has little
merit. In the same year Middleton produced the
"Triumphs of Honour and Virtue" for the mayoralty
of Peter Probyn. It was reprinted in 1845 among the
' Mr. Fleay in a private communication tells me that he has largely
modified the views put forward in his Shakespeare Manual. I trust
that Mr. Aldis Wright has also repented of his temerity.
Introduction. lix
Shakespeare Society's Papers from an unique exem-
plar. This and the preceding piece were unknown to
Dyce.
Middleton, like many of his contemporaries, appears
to have had no desire for posthumous fame. His finest
works — The Changeling, Women beware Women, and
The Spanish Gipsy — were not published in his lifetime.
The Changeling was issued by Humphrey Mosely in
1653 ; and to the same publisher, whom all students of
the English drama should respect, we owe Women be-
ware Women, published (with No Wit, no Help like a
Woman's) in 1657. The Spanish Gipsy was printed for
Richard Marriot in 1653. Had these plays been de-
stroyed, the loss to our dramatic literature would have
been serious, for only here is Middleton's genius seen in )
its full maturity. Rowley assisted in the composition
of The Changeling and The Spanish Gipsy ; Women \
beware Women was written wholly by Middleton.
The Changeling is partly founded on Book I. Hist. 4 '
of Reynolds' God's Revenge against Murder, of which
the earliest edition is dated 1621. A "Note of such j
plays as were acted at court in 1623 and 1624," in Sir
Henry Herbert's office-book (Malone's Shakespeare,
1821, iii. 227) contains the entry — "Upon the Sunday
after, being the 4 of January 1623, by the Queene of
Bohemia's Company, The Changeling, the Prince only
being there. At Whitehall." The play must have been
written circ. 1621-23. I agree with Dyce in thinking
that Middleton had the chief share in The Changeling.
Rowley was probably responsible for the conduct of the
vol. 1. /
lx Introduction.
underplot. The wild extravagance of the madhouse
scenes is quite in his manner. I have little doubt that
the last scene of the play is by Rowley. The violence
of the language and the introduction of ill-timed comic
touches remind us of All's Lost by Lust ; and the
metrical roughness is painfully prominent. There are
also occasional traces of Rowley in the opening scenes.
Regarded as an artistic whole, The Changeling cannot
challenge comparison with The Maid's Tragedy, The
Broken Heart, or The Duchess of Malfi. It has not the
sustained tragic interest of these masterpieces ; but there
is one scene in The Changeling which, for appalling
depth of passion, is not merely unsurpassed, but, I
believe, unequalled outside Shakespeare's greatest trage-
dies. Dismissing the underplot, let us follow the summa
fastigia rerum. Alsemero, seeking employment in the
wars, has arrived at Alicant on his way to Malta. In a
church at Alicant he sees Beatrice-Joanna, daughter to
Vermandero, governor of the castle, and is so smitten
with her beauty that he forgets the wars and thinks only
of making her his bride. A few days before Alsemero's
arrival Beatrice had been contracted to Alonzo de
Pivacquo, and the marriage was to be solemnised with-
out delay ; but at first sight of Alsemero she falls pas-
sionately in love with him and loathes her contracted
husband. Alonzo's brother, Tomaso, notices the strange-
ness of her demeanour and endeavours to dissuade
Alonzo from the marriage ; but his counsel is ill-received.
In the service of Vermandero is a hard-favoured atten-
dant, De Flores, a man of gentle birth but broken for-
Introduction. lxi
tunes. He is possessed by an over-mastering passion
for Beatrice, who is disgusted with his attentions and
shrinks from him as from a poisonous creature, openly
scoffing at him, but in her inmost heart stirred with a
vague dread of him. As the marriage-day draws near
and she ponders over the situation,' she can see help
only from one quarter — from the man whom she detests,
De Flores. She knows his devotion, and she knows also
his poverty. She changes her treatment towards him,
and greets him with smiles instead of frowns. De Flores
is ravished with delight : —
" Her fingers touch'd me !
She smells all amber."
Gradually she proceeds to discover to him her hatred
of Alonzo. He kneels to her and implores to be em-
ployed in her service. She imagines that his eagerness is
prompted by greed, and to spur his resolution gives him
gold, promising more when Alonzo is despatched : —
"When the deed's done
I'll furnish thee with all things for thy flight ;
Thou may'st live bravely in another country."
When she retires he exclaims —
"O my blood!
Methinks I feel her in mine arms already ;
Her wanton fingers combing out this beard,
And, being pleased, praising this bad face.
Hunger and pleasure, they'll commend sometimes
Slovenly dishes, and feed heartily on 'em.
Nay, which is stranger, refuse daintier for 'em.
Some women are odd feeders, "
Ixii Introduction.
At this moment he sees Alonzo approaching : —
" Here comes the man goes supperless to bed,
Yet shall not rise to-morrow to his dinner."
Alonzo, who is the guest of Vermandero, has come to
ask De Flores to conduct him over the castle and show
him the strength of the fortifications. It is agreed that
they shall make their tour of inspection immediately
after dinner. To secure himself from interruption,
Alonzo, before joining his guide, announces that he is
going to' take a gondola. The doomed man and De
Flores, after passing through labyrinthine passages,
reach a vault, the entrance to which is so narrow that
they disencumber themselves of their rapiers in order to
make freer progress. De Flores hangs up the weapons
on hooks fitted in the wall for that purpose ; but he has
previously concealed a naked rapier behind the door.
While Alonzo is looking through a casement which
affords a full view of the castle's strength, De Flores
snatches the hidden weapon and stabs him several
times in the back. On Alonzo's finger is a diamond
ring which sparkles in the dimn'ess of the vault. De
Flores tries to draw the ring from the finger, that he may
show it to Beatrice as evidence that the deed has been
accomplished : but it clings obstinately, and to obtain it
he has to cut off the finger. The meeting that presently
follows between De Flores and Beatrice is the most
powerful scene in the play. Hearing that Alonzo is
despatched, she exclaims —
Introduction. lxiii
" My joys start at mine eyes ; our sweet'st delights j
Are evermore born weeping." 1
But at the sight of the dead man's ringed finger she/
retreats with a cry of horror, " Bless me, what hast thou
done ? " De Flores observes grimly —
"Why, is that more
Than killing the whole man ? I cut his heart-strings. \
A greedy hand thrust in a dish at court
Hath had as much as this."
Looking at the ring, she muses, "Tis the first token
my father made me send him ; " but there is no touch
of pity in her heart.for the dead man. She bids De
Flores bury the finger and keep the ring for himself;
"at the stag's fall the keeper has his fees," and that
ring is worth three hundred ducats. De Flores re- .
marks —
" Twill hardly buy a capcase for one's conscience though,
To keep it from the worm, as fine as 'tis."
Beatrice hastens to add that she did not intend the ring
to be his sole recompense ; then noticing his clouded
countenance, she protests that it would be misery in
1 Cf. The Phmnix, vol. i. p. 198 :—
" Our joy breaks at our eyes ; the prince is come."
Again, in The Old Law, vol. ii. p. 204 : —
' ' I've a joy weeps to see you, 'tis so full,
So fairly fruitful. "
In The Changeling we have the image presented in its final and
faultless form.
lxiv Introduction.
her to give him cause for offence. Sharp and significant
is the reply —
"I know so much, it were so ; misery
In her most sharp condition."
But Beatrice has not the least suspicion of the meaning
conveyed by the words. She sees before her only a
man of broken fortunes, who for gold has stained his
hand with blood. She offers him three thousand golden
florins. He puts them by scornfully, with the remark
that he could have hired a journeyman in murder at
that rate. Thinking that he is dissatisfied with the
amount, she offers to double it, but is met by the retort
that she is taking a course to double his vexation. Still
not a hint of De Flores' purpose crosses her mind. She
is anxious to bring the interview to an end ; the man's
obstinacy — his inordinate greed — is embarrassing; she
must act with decision. Alarmed but resolute, she
fronts him : —
" For my fear's sake,
I prithee, make away with all speed possible ;
And if thou be'st so modest not to name
The sum that will content thee, paper blushes not :
Send thy demand in writing, it shall follow thee ;
But, prithee, take thy flight."
He answers quietly, "You must fly too then." With
astonishment she inquires his meaning. He coolly re-
minds her that she is his partner in guilt, and points out
that his flight would at once draw suspicion on her.
i Watching the effect of his words, he proceeds —
Introduction. Ixv
" Nor is it fit we two, engag'd so jointly,
Should part and live asunder ; "
Then with a gesture of impatience as she shrinks from
him — _
" What makes your lip so strange ? I
This must not be betwixt us."
At length she grasps the reality of the situation. But
the man is her father's servant; her dignity shall awe
him into shame. As he presses forward for her em-
brace, she draws herself to her full height —
" Speak it yet farther off, that I may lose
What has been spoken, and no sound remain on't ;
I would not hear so much offence again
For such another deed."
But she utterly miscalculates her power. Calm, through
very intensity of passion, and keen as a knife's edge, is
De 'Flores' answer —
"Soft, lady, soft!
The last is not yet paid for : O, this act
Has put me into spirit ; I was as greedy on't
As the parch'd earth of moisture when the clouds weep :
Did you not mark, I wrought myself into't,
Nay, sued and kneeled for't ? Why was all that pains took ?
You see I've thrown contempt upon your gold ;
Not that I want it [not], for I do piteously ;
In order I'll come to't, and make use on't,
But 'twas not held so precious to begin with,
For I place wealth after the heels of pleasure ;
1 So in Middleton's Women beware Women, iii. i : —
" Speak, what's the humour sweet,
You make your Up so strange I"
lxvi Introduction.
And were I not resolv'd in my belief
That thy virginity were perfect in thee,
I should but take my recompense with grudging,
As if I had but half my hopes I agreed for."
Still she will not abandon all hope, but tries desperately
to retain her self-possession : —
" Thy language is so bold and vicious,
I cannot see which way I can forgive it
With any modesty."
Here De Flores loses patience : —
"Push ! you forget yourself;
A woman dipp'd in blood and talk of modesty ! "
She bids him remember the barrier that her birth had
set between them. " Push ! fly not to your birth ! " he
retorts : —
"You must forget your parentage to me ;
You are the deed's creature ; by that name
You lost your first condition, and I challenge you,
As peace and innocency has turn'd you out .
And made you one with me."
She prostituted her affections when she abandoned her
affianced husband for Alsemero, and she shall never
enjoy Alsemero unless she first yields her body to the
murderer's embraces. De Flores has no care for his
own life ; he will confess all if she refuses. Her pride
is crushed, and she kneels at the feet of the man whom
she was wont to spurn : —
" Stay, hear me once for all ; I make thee master
Of all the wealth I have in gold and jewels ;
Let me go poor unto my bed with honour
And I am rich in all things."
Introduction. lxvii
The last spark of hope is quenched by the relentless
answer : —
"Let this silence thee ;
The wealth of all Valencia shall not buy
My pleasure from me ;
Can you weep Fate from its determin'd purpose ?
So soon may [you] weep me."
Neither Webster nor Cyril Tourneur nor Ford has
given us any single scene so profoundly impressive, so
absolutely ineffaceable, so Shakespearean as this collo-
quy between Beatrice and De Flor,es. In A Fair Quarrel
Middleton showed how nobly he could depict moral dig-
nity ; but this scene of The Changeling testifies beyond
dispute that, in dealing with a situation of sheer passion,
none of Shakespeare's followers trod so closely in the
master's steps.
The latter part of the play contains some powerful
writing, but there is no scene that can be compared for
a moment with the terrible colloquy. Vermandero
construes Alonzo's disappearance as a dishonourable
flight. Resenting the supposed insult, he lends a will-
ing ear to Alsemero's suit, and is anxious to have the
match concluded without delay. Beatrice is in per-
plexity as the marriage day draws near; but I must
be excused for passing over the device by which
she conceals the loss of her virginity from Alse-
mero. Meanwhile Tomaso has a shrewd suspicion of
foul play, but knows not on whom to fasten the guilt.
By a sort of instinct he suspects De Flores — " honest
Ixviii Introduction.
De Flores," as men call him. Honest De Flores ! a
queen would as soon fix her palace in a pest-house as
Honesty would seek a lodging in this ill-favoured fellow.
De Flores is uncomfortable in Tomaso's presence, and
seeks to avoid him. On one occasion Tomaso strikes
him, but he has no power to draw : —
" I cannot strike ; I see his brother's wounds
Fresh bleeding in his eye as in a chrystal."
But the catastrophe is at hand. Alsemero's friend,
Jasperino, has observed passages of familiarity between
De Flores and Beatrice. He reports what he has seen
to Alsemero. A powerful scene follows, in which Bea-
trice confesses to Alsemero that she procured the mur-
der of Alonzo, but denies the charge of unchastity.
Alsemero will not act rashly ; he locks her in a closet
while he ponders his plan of conduct. At "this moment
De Flores enters. Confronted with Beatrice's confession,
he proceeds to disclose what she had suppressed. " He
lies ! the villain does belie me ! " cries Beatrice from
within. Alsemero unlocks the closet and sends in De
Flores. At this point Vermandero and Tomaso enter
with two prisoners who have been seized on suspicion
of having murdered Alonzo. As Vermandero is pro-
ceeding to explain the circumstances of their arrest, cries
are heard issuing from the closet, and presently De
Flores re-enters dragging in Beatrice.^ Wounded to the
death, she has just strength enough to confess her guilt
and declare her penitence. But there is no touch of
Introduction. Ixix
shame in De Flores. He has had his enjoyment of
Beatrice and is content to die : —
" I thank life for nothing
But that pleasure : it was so sweet to me
That I have drunk up all, left none behind."
An attempt is made to lay hands on him that he may be
reserved for torture, but he frustrates the intention by
dealing himself a mortal stab — " it is but one thread
more, and now 'tis cut."
The Changeling was, revived at the Restoration. Under
date 23d February 1660-61, Pepys entered in his Diary
— "To the Playhouse and there saw The Changeling,
the first time it hath been acted these twenty years, and
it takes exceedingly." From Dowries' Roscius Anglicanus
we learn that Betterton, about the age of twenty-two,
sustained the character of De Flores. 1
A " Note of such playes as were acted at court in
1623 and 1624," in Sir Henry Herbert's office-book,
contains the entry: "Upon the fifth of November at
Whitehall, the Prince being there only, The Gipsye, bye
the Cockpitt company" (Malone's Shakespeare, 1821,
iii. 227). From a passage in ii. 1 we may conjecture
that The Spanish Gipsy was a later play than The Change-
ling, and that the part of Constanza was taken by an
actor who had given satisfaction as Antonio.
1 The part of the pretended madman, Antonio (in the underplot),
from which the play takes its name (Changeling = idiot), was sustained
with success before the Revolution by Robbins, and at the Restoration
by Sheppy (see Collier's Hist, of Engl. Dram. Lit., ii. 107, ed. 1).
lxx Introduction.
The Spanish Gipsy is an admirable example of a well-
contrived and well-written romantic comedy. It is at
once fantastic and pathetic, rippling with laughter and
dashed with tears ; a generous, full-blooded play. The
introductory scenes are peculiarly impressive, filling the
reader with wonder as to how a tragic issue is to be
averted. Roderigo, son of the corregidor of Madrid,
has fallen in love with a girl whom he has casually seen,
and with whose name he is unacquainted. He has
noticed her walking a few paces behind an old gen-
tleman and his wife, but he knows not whether she is
their daughter or servant. Whoever she may be, he has
determined to possess her. He communicates to his
friends Louis and Diego his intention of forcibly carrying
her off, and requests their assistance, which (with some
reluctance on Louis' part) they agree to render. An
opportunity is presently offered : the old couple is seen
approaching in the dusk of evening, followed by the
maiden. Roderigo secures his prize and hurries away,
while the elders are firmly held by Louis and Diego. But
when the old man exclaims, " Do you not know me ? I
am De Cortes, Pedro de Cortes,'' Louis quickly looses
his hold, and bidding Diego follow, takes to flight. Louis
is the accepted of De Cortes's daughter, whom he has
unwittingly betrayed to dishonour. Meanwhile Roderigo
by a private garden-way has conveyed his victim to his
father's house. A noble scene ensues, in which the dis-
honoured lady confronts her unknown ravisher : —
" Though the black veil of night hath overclouded
The world in darkness, yet ere many hours
Introduction. lxxi
The sun will rise again, and then this act
Of my dishonour will appear before you
More black than is the canopy that shrouds it :
What are you, pray ? what are you ? "
The ravisher's spirit is quelled; he can but answer in
monosyllables. " Not speak to me ? are wanton devils
dumb?" she cries; women's honour would be safe if
men could plead no better than " this untongued piece of
violence." Then she flings herself upon him and clutches
him fast : " You shall not from me. " He offers her gold,
but she replies —
" I need no wages for a ruin'd name
More than a broken heart."
Impatiently shaking her off, he retires and locks the
door. Left alone in the darkness, she gropes her way
towards the window, invoking the "lady-regent of the
air, the moon," to light her to some brave vengeance.
As she draws aside the window-curtains, she sees by the
starlight a fair garden, in the centre of which is an
alabaster fountain. Then her glance wanders round the
richly furnished chamber and lights upon a crucifix,
which she conceals in her bosom. Just when she has
concluded these rapid observations, by which she will
be able to identify that room hereafter, Roderigo returns.
He professes penitence for his sin and offers all repara-
tion in his power. She will not disclose her name ; she
will take her shame with her to the grave ; but she has
two requests to make of him : first, that neither in riot
of mirth nor in privacy of friendship nor in idle talk he
Ixxii Introduction.
shall mention the wrong that he has done; and, secondly,
that he shall lead her back, before the morning rise, to
the place where he met her. He solemnly promises to
fulfil the conditions, and she passes veiled from the
house.
It is indeed a sombre introduction, preparing us to
expect some tale of blood and vengeance. I leave the
reader to discover by what smooth channels the argu-
ment is conducted to a peaceful issue. The Spanish
Gipsy 1 has all the interest of a novel ; stripped of its
poetry and reduced to a mere prose narrative, it would
hold the reader's attention. In the gipsy scenes (which
were, doubtless, largely the work of Rowley) we breathe
the fresh air of the woodlands, and the songs have the
genuine ring of rollicking freedom. There are few
more charming figures than that of the young maiden,
Constanza, who in gipsy guise follows her exiled father
in his wanderings, singing and dancing in the booths of
fairs, sportive as a squirrel and maidenly as Rosalind.
The Spanish Gipsy opened gloomily and ended cheer-
fully, but in Women, beware Women, the reverse process
is adopted. The introduction to this powerful tragedy
is singularly sweet. Leantio, a young factor, has married
without her parents' consent a Venetian beauty, Bianca,
and brings her to his mother's house at Florence. Bianca
1 "Two stories," says Professor Ward, "taken from Cervantes are
here— not very closely — interwoven, that of Roderigo and Clara being
drawn from La Fuerze de la Sangre (The Force of Blood), that of the
Qipsies from La Gitanilla"
Introduction. lxxiii
has cheerfully abandoned her rich home to share her
lover's slender fortunes. She is devoted to him, and he
to her. The widowed mother is fearful that the house
will afford poor entertainment for so high-born a lady, but
Bianca with winning grace professes herself perfectly
happy. In a few days Leantio's affairs oblige him to
leave his wife. He gives his mother directions that
Bianca should not be seen abroad, for he is jealous of her
beauty, and dreads lest his treasure should be snatched
from him. The leave-taking is most charmingly de-
scribed. "But this one night, I prithee," whispers
Bianca imploringly, and it must have been difficult
indeed to resist such an appeal ; but his affairs will
brook no delay, and he knows that one night will mean
twenty, and then forty more, if he stays ; besides, he is
to return in five days. Bianca acquiesces, but cannot
control her tears when she perceives that he is really
gone. While the widow is cheering and consoling her
as they sit by the window, a crowd of sightseers gathers
in the streets. The widow remembers that it is the day
on which the Duke and nobles hold their solemn annual
procession. Presently the procession draws near with
music and song : in front are six knights bare-headed,
then two cardinals, followed by the Lord Cardinal and
his brother the Duke, in whose train come the nobles
two by two. Bianca is enchanted with the magnificence
of the spectacle ; her vanity also is flattered, for she
assures the widow that the Duke cast a glance at the
window as he passed ; whereupon the old lady sensibly
remarks-^
lxxiv Introduction.
" That's every one's conceit that sees a duke ;
If he look steadfastly, he looks straight at them,
When he, perhaps, good, careful gentleman,
Never minds any, but the look he casts
Is at his own intentions, and his object
Only the public good. "
But Bianca is right ; the Duke did notice her, and he
determines to make prize of her beauty. To effect his
purpose he employs the services of a clever and aban-
doned court lady, Livia, who sets to work with devilish
cunning. She invites the widow to her house, pleasantly
chides her for living so much in seclusion, and hopes
she will be a frequent guest. The poor widow, anxious
about her daughter-in-law, who is sitting lonely at home,
endeavours to bring the visit quickly to a close; but
Livia insists that she shall stay, and they sit down to
play chess. Attracted by Livia's sympathetic manner,
the widow discloses the secret of her son's marriage, and
without much persuasion is induced to send for Bianca,
who presently arrives and is cordially welcomed. While ■
Livia and the widow continue their game, Guardiano
(a creature of the Duke's) shows Bianca round the picture-
gallery. As she is expressing her delight at the wonders
of the gallery, Guardiano tells her that the fairest piece
yet remains ; he draws aside a curtain and the Duke
steps from his concealment. At first she makes a bold
stand against the Duke's solicitations ; but when to
adroit flattery he adds dazzling promises of the greatness
that he will confer upon her (not without hints of violence
in case of her refusal), soon her resistance is weakened,
and after no severe struggle she capitulates. As she
Introduction. Ixxv
returns, outwardly cairn, from the Duke's embraces to
her protectress's side, she is filled with loathing for the
infamous creatures who have betrayed her. But she is
not of the stuff of which heroines are made, and when
the first feeling of shame is past, she treads the path of
sin unblushingly. Her change of manner perplexes and
distresses the unsuspecting widow : —
" She was but one day abroad, but ever since
She's grown so cutted there's no speaking to her :
Whether the sight of great cheer at my lady's,
And such mean fare at home, work discontent in her,
I know not ; but I'm sure she's strangely alter'd.
I'll ne'er keep daughter-in-law i' th' house with me
Again, if I had an hundred."
On the fifth day Leantio returns. His heart is brimming
with love for his young bride ; as he draws near his
home and deliciously muses on the contentment that
his marriage has brought him, the very air around the
house seems laden with blessings. But at the first sight
of Bianca his joy is dashed to the ground. No loving
arms are stretched out to welcome him ; a few cold words
of greeting, and then Bianca proceeds to complain of
the meanness of her lodging and protest that she will
not be mewed up from society. While Leantio is
endeavouring to pacify his wife, a knocking is heard at
the door. Bianca is hurried into another room and a
messenger enters ; he has come from the Duke with a
message to Bianca. Leantio protests that there is no
such person in the house, that he has never heard the
name before ; and with this answer the messenger retires.
VOL. i f g
Ixxvi Introduction.
When Bianca hears from her distracted husband that
she has been summoned to the palace, she hastens, to
his amazement, to obey the summons. Left alone, he
muses bitterly, converting into curses the blessings that
he had lately pronounced on marriage. Presently the
messenger returns, summoning him to the Duke's pre-
sence. Arrived at the palace, he sees the Duke whis-
pering in Bianca's ear, and knows that his last hope
is gone. To be rid of Leantio's presence, the Duke
appoints him to the captaincy of some distant castle.
Leantio retains his composure and expresses his grati-
tude, but his heart is being riven in twain. He is
no tame cuckold ; he has loved deeply and he can hate
deeply : —
" She's gone for ever, utterly ; there is
As much redemption of a soul from hell
As a fair woman's body from his palace.
Why should my love last longer than her truth ?
What is there good in woman to be lov'd,
When only that which makes her so has left her ?
I cannot love her now, but I must like
Her sin and my own shame too, and be guilty
Of law's breach with her, and mine own abusing ;
All which were monstrous : then my safest course,
For health of mind and body, is to turn
My heart and hate her, most extremely hate her."
It is a pitiful, thrice-pitiful story, worked out with relent-
less skill to a ghastly catastrophe. The passionate
energy and concentrated bitterness of the language is as
remarkable as in The Changeling.
The comedy More Dissemblers besides Women was
Introduction. lxxvii
licensed by Sir Henry Herbert to the King's Company
on 17th October 1623, without fee, as being an "old
play," which had been previously licensed by Sir George
Buc (Chalmers' Supflem. Apol., p. 215). Dyce thought
that the word " old " proves the play to have been " pro-
duced a considerable time previous to the year 1623 ;"
but it is, I think, merely a term applied to such plays as
had been previously licensed. Sir George Buc ("by
reason of sickness and indisposition of body wherewith
it had pleased God to visit him ") resigned the post of
Master of the Revels in May 1622. Before that date the
comedy must have been .written ; but it is evidently a
late work, more elaborate and substantial than the early
comedies. The guileless Cardinal, with an inexhaustible
stock of moral reflections and an implicit belief in the
purity of his scapegrace nephew, Lactantio, is drawn
with tenderness and care. Equally successful is the
character of the Duchess, who, having vowed " ne'er to
know love's heat in a second husband," after seven years
of widowhood suddenly has her resolution shaken, but
quickly checks the course of her affections when she
finds that the man whom she admires is devoted to
another mistress, and, after composing differences all
round, returns to the strictness of her former life. A
witty serving-man, Dondolo, contributes not a little to
the entertainment. The girl-page who accompanies the
profligate Lactantio is a pathetic little figure ; but it is a
pity that Middleton adopted so intolerably gross a device
for discovering her condition to the Duchess.
In 1623 Middleton composed the pageant The Tri-
lxxviii Introduction.
umphs of Integrity for Sir Martin Lumley's mayoralty.
It was mounted on an elaborate scale, the chief feature
in the spectacle being the Chrystal Sanctuary, styled the
Temple of Integrity, "where her immaculate self, with
all her glorious and sanctimonious concomitants, sit,
transparently seen through the chrystal." The columns
were of gold and the battlements of silver, and " the
whole fabric for the night-triumph [was] adorned and
beautified with many lights, dispersing their glorious
radiance on all sides through the chrystal."
We have now to consider the most curious incident
' in Middleton's career — the circumstances attending the
production of A Game at Chess. When the proposed
Spanish marriage, which had been very unpopular with
the English people, was broken off in the autumn of
1623, Middleton in A Game of Chess gave voice to the
satisfaction of his countrymen at the failure of negotia-
tions and their detestation of Spanish intrigues. The
play was acted with great applause in August 1624
for nine days continuously ; then a strong protest from
Gondomar, the Spanish Ambassador, caused its with-
drawal, and both author and actors were summoned to
appear before the Privy Council. The official corre-
spondence in regard to the matter has been preserved.
On 12th August 1624 Mr. Secretary Conway addressed
the following letter to the Privy Council : —
"May it please your Lordships, — His Majesty hath received
information from the Spanish Ambassador of a very scandalous
comedy acted publickly by the King's players, wherein they take
the boldness and presumption, in a rude and dishonourable fashion,
Introduction. lxxix
to represent on the stage the persons of his Majesty, the King of
Spain, the Conde de Gondomar, the Bishop of Spalato, &c. His
( Majesty remembers well there was a commandment and restraint
given against the representing of any modern Christian kings in
those stage-plays ; and wonders much both at the boldness now
taken by that company, and also that it hath been permitted to
be so acted, and that the, first notice thereof should be brought to
him by a foreign ambassador, while so many ministers of his own
are thereabouts, and cannot but have heard of it. His Majesty's
pleasure is, that your Lordships presently call before you as well
the poet that made the comedy as the comedians that acted it :
And upon examination of them to commit them, or such of them as
you shall find most faulty, unto prison, if you find cause, or other-
wise take security for their forthcoming ; and then certify his
Majesty what you find that comedy to be, in what points it is most
offensive, by whom it was made, by whom licensed, and what course
you think fittest to be held for the exemplary and severe punishment
of the present offenders, and to restrain such insolent and licentious
presumption for the future. This is the charge I have received
from his Majesty, and with it I make bold to offer to your Lord-
ships the humble service of, &c. From Rufford, August 12th,
1624."
Their Lordships on 21st August sent the following
answer : —
" After our hearty commendations, &c. — According to his
Majesty's pleasure signified to this Board by your letter of the 12th
of Aug., touching the suppressing of a scandalous comedy acted by
the King's players, we have called before us some of the principal
actors, and demanded of them by what license and authority they
have presumed to act the same ; in answer whereto they produced
a book being an original and perfect copy thereof (as they affirmed)
seen and allowed by Sir Henry Herbert, Knt, Master of the Revels,
under his own hand, and subscribed in the last page of the said
book : We demanding further, whether there were not other parts
or passages represented on the stage than those expressly contained
in the book, they confidently protested they added or varied from
lxxx Introduction.
the same nothing at all. The poet, they tell us, is one Middleton,
who shifting out of the way, and not attending the Board with the
rest, as was expected, we have given warrant to a messenger for the
apprehending of him. To those that were before us we gave a
round 1 and sharp reproof, making them sensible of his Majesty's
high displeasure herein, giving them strait charge and commands
that they presumed not to act the said comedy any more, nor that
they suffered any play or interlude whatsoever to be acted by them
or any of their company until his Majesty's pleasure be further
known. We have caused them likewise to enter into bond for
their attendance upon the Board whensoever they shall be called.
As for our certifying to his Majesty (as was intimated by your letter)
what passages in the said comedy we should find to be offensive and
scandalous ; we have thought it our duties for his Majesty's clearer
information to send herewithal the book itself subscribed as afore-
said by the Master of the Revels, that so either yourself or some
other whom his Majesty shall appoint to peruse the same, may see
the passages themselves out of the original, and call Sir Henry
Herbert before you to know a reason of his licensing thereof, who
(as we are given to understand) is now attending at court. So
having done as much as we conceived agreeable with our duties in
conformity to his Majesty's royal commandments, and that which
we hope shall give him full satisfaction, we shall continue our
humble prayers to Almighty God for his health and safety ; and
bid you very heartily farewell."
On the 27 th Conway wrote again : —
" Right Honourable, — His Majesty having received satisfaction
in your Lordships' endeavours, and in the signification thereof to
him by yours of the 21st of this present, hath commanded me to
signify the same to you. And to add further, that his pleasure is,
that your Lordships examine by whose direction and application
the personating of Gondomar and others was done ; and that being
found out, the party or parties to be severely punished, his Majesty
1 Dyce (following Chalmers) printed "sound," but "round" is the
reading in the register.
Introduction. lxxxi
being unwilling for one's sake and only fault to punish the innocent
or utterly to ruin the company. The discovery on what party his
Majesty's justice is properly and duly to fall, and your execution of
it and the account to be returned thereof, his Majesty leaves to your
Lordships' wisdoms and care. And this being that I have in charge,
continuing the humble offer of my service and duty to the attendance
of your commandments, &c. From Woodstock, the 27th August
1624." 1
On the same day the following letter 2 was addressed
by the Lord Chamberlain to the Lord President of the
Council : —
"To the right hon ble my very good Lord, the Lord Viscount
Maundeville, Lord President of his Majesty's most hon bIe Privy
Counsell, theis.
My very good Lord
Complaynt being made unto his Majesty against the Company
of his Comedians, for acting publiquely a Play knowne by the name
of a Game at Chesse, contayning some passages in it reflecting in
matter of scorne and ignominy upon the King of Spaine, some of
his Ministers and others of good note and quality, his Majesty out
of the tender regard hee had of that King's honor and those of his
Ministers who were conceived to bee wounded thereby, caused his
letters to bee addressed to my Lords and the rest of his most hon ble
Privy Council, thereby requiring them to convent those his Comedians
before them, and to take such course with them for this offence as
might give best satisfaction to the Spanish Ambassador and to their
owne Honnors. After examination that hon ble Board thought fitt
not onely to interdict them playing of that play, but of any other
1 This correspondence was first printed in Chalmers' Apology for the
Believers in the Shakespeare Papers, p. 497, sqq.
a "The original is in the State Paper Office : for the transcript I am
indebted to Mr. J. P. Collier." — Dyce. But in the second edition of
his Hist, of Eng. Dram. Lit. Collier says that the original was in
possession of the late Mr. F. Ouvry.
lxxxii Introduction.
also, untill his Majesty should give way unto them. And for their
obedience hereunto they weare bound in 300" bondes. Which
punishment when they had suffered (as his Majesty conceives) a,
competent tyme, upon their petition delivered heere unto him, it
pleased his Majesty to comaund mee to Iett your Lordship under-
stand (which I pray your Lordship to impart to the rest of that
hon ble Board) that his Majesty now conceives the punishment, if
not satisfactory for that their insolency, yet such as since it stopps
the current of their poore livelyhood and mainteanance, without
much prejudice they cannot longer undergoe. In consideration
therefore of those his poore servants, his Majesty would have their
Lordships connive at any common play lycensed by authority, that
they shall act as before. As for this of the Game at Chesse, that
it bee not onely antiquated and sylenced, but the Players bound as
formerly they weare, and in that point onely never to act it agayne.
Yet notwithstanding that my Lords proceed in their disquisition to
fynd out the originall roote of this offence, whether it sprang from
the Poet, Players, or both, and to certefy his Majesty accordingly.
And so desireing your Lordship to take this into consideration, and
them into your care, I rest
Yo r Lo ds most affectionate
Cousin to serve you,
Pembroke."
Under date 30th August 1624 the Council register
contains the entry : —
"This day Edward Middleton of London, gent, being formerly
sent for by warrant from this Board, tendred his appearance,
wherefor his indemnitie is here entered into the register of counceil
causes ; nevertheless he is enjoyned to attend the Board till he be
discharged by order from their Lordships."
Dyce inserts "Thomas" in brackets after "Edward,"
supposing that the clerk of the Privy Council made an
error in the name. But Dyce had not personally in-
Introduction. lxxxiii
spected the register; he relied entirely on Chalmers.
It was pointed out by a writer in the Shakespeare
Society's Papers that the person who tendered his
appearance was the poet's son. Under date 27th
August 1624 is the following entry in the register: 1 —
"A warrant directed to Robert Goffe, one of the Mes-
sengers of His Ma ts Chamber to bring one Middleton
sonne to Midleton the Poet before their Llo ps to an-
swer," &c.
A copy of A Game at Chess, formerly in the possession
of Major Pearson, and now preserved in the Dyce Lib-
rary at South Kensington, has the following MS. note
in an old hand : —
"After nyne dayse wherein I have heard some of the acters say
they tooke fiveteene hundred Pounde the Spanish faction being pre-
valent gott it supprest the chiefe actors and the Poett Mr. Thomas
Middleton that writt it committed to prisson where hee lay some
Tyme and at last gott oute upon this petition presented to King
James.
* A harrales game : coynd only for delight
was playd betwixt the black house and the white
the white house wan : yet still the black doth bragg
they had the power to put mee in the bagge
' use but your royall hand. Twill set mee free
Tis but removing of a man thats mee.' "
Dyce, following Malone, gave his opinion that the
statement in regard to the receipts was a gross exagge-
ration; but he did not sufficiently realise the intense
1 My thanks are due to the Clerk "of the Council, C. Lennox Peel,
Esq., C.B., for his courtesy in allowing me to consult the register.
Ixxxiv Introduction.
excitement caused by the performances. If Dyce had
seen the following letter of Chamberlain to Carleton,
dated 21st August 1624, he would probably have modi-
fied his opinion : — " I doubt not but you have heard
of our famous play of Gondomar, which hath been
followed with extraordinary curiosity, and frequented
by all sorts of people, old and young, rich and poor,
masters and servants, papists, wise men, &c, church-
men and Scotsmen, as Sir Henry Wotton, Sir Albert
Morton, Sir Benjamin Rudyard, Sir Thomas Lake, and
a world besides. The Lady Smith would have gone
if she could have persuaded me to go thither. I am
not so sour nor so severe but that I would willingly
have attended her, but I could not sit so long, for we
must have been there before one o'clock at farthest to
find any room. They counterfeited his person to the
life, with all his graces and faces, and had gotten, they
say, a cast suit of his apparel for the purpose, and his
letter, wherein the world says there lacked nothing but
a couple of asses to carry it, and Sir George Petre or
Sir Tobie Matthew to bear him company. But the
worst is, playing him, they played somebody else, for
which they are forbidden to play that or any other play
till the King's further pleasure be known ; and they may
be glad if they can so escape Scot-free. The wonder
lasted but nine days, for so long they played it " {Court
and Times of James I., ii. 472-473).
A Game at Chess contains some very caustic satire
against Gondomar (the Black Knight), whose fair-seem-
ing hypocrisy is exposed with masterly power, while his
Introduction. lxxxv
bodily infirmities are ridiculed with provoking persistence.
The satirist's lash falls heavily on the apostate Bishop of
Spalato 1 (the Fat Bishop), who is represented as a swag-
bellied monster of gluttony — and lecherous withal.
There is abundant evidence to show that the satire was
keenly appreciated. Three editions — without date, but
probably printed in 1624 — have come down, and Collier
possessed a title-page of an edition dated 1625. A
MS. copy is preserved in the British Museum, another
at Trinity College, Cambridge, and a third (imperfect)
at Bridgewater House. It is curious to note that Sir
Thomas Browne possessed a MS. of the play (Browne's
Works, ed. Wilkin, 1835, iv. 470). Howel, in a letter 2
to Sir John North from Madrid, writes : — " I am sorry
to hear how other nations so much tax the English
of their incivility to public Ministers of State ; and
what ballads and pasquils and fopperies and plays
were made against Gondomar for doing his master's
business" {Letters, ed. 1678, p. 123). Ben Jonson in
iii. 1 of The Staple of News (acted in 1625) has a
passage — too indelicate to quote — about Gondomar and
"the poor English play was writ of him." Fletcher in
the prologue to Rule a Wife and Have a Wife makes
an allusion to A Game at Chess : —
1 In a note prefixed to the play I shall endeavour to identify some of
the other characters.
2 The letter is dated ' ' August 15, 1623 ; " but Oldys in his annotated
copy of Langbaine remarks : — "The first edition [of Howel's Letters]
in 4to, 1645, is in six parts or sections ; but no dates to any of the
letters ; hence so many errors when he did date them."
Ixxxvi Introduction.
" Do not your looks let fall,
Nor to remembrance our late errors call,
Because this day we're Spaniards all again,
The story of our play and our scene Spain :
The errors, too, do not for this cause hate ;
Now we present their wit, and not their state."
The extraordinary applause that the play won was
remembered as a stage-tradition for many years. In
Davenant's Playhouse to be Let (first acted in 1663) an
actor brings word to his fellows — "There's such a
crowd at doors as if we had a new play of Gondomar."
Two comedies, The Widow and Anything for a Quiet
Life, remain for consideration. The Widow was pub-
lished in 1652 by Humphrey Moseley as the work of
Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton. I must confess, with
Gifford, that I cannot discover any traces of Jonson's
hand. Collier was surprised that Gifford " did not
trace his pen through the whole of the fourth act ; " but
to me the scene where Latrocinio disguises himself as
an empiric and dispenses his nostrums in a hired room
of an inn, seems rather to be imitated from Ben Jonson
than written by him. Nor can I discover Fletcher's
hand, unless the songs be his. Dyce pointed out that a
conceit in iv. 2 is found in The Honest Lawyer, a play
by " S. S.," printed in 1616. "S. S." is a very poor
writer, and it is hardly probable that Middleton would
have taken the trouble to borrow from such a source. 1
1 I follow Dyce in spite of Mr. Fleay's assertion that " the argument
from the ' imitation ' in The Honest Lawyer is imbecile. It is not
possible to say which author was the imitator." Mr. Fleay's own
views about The Widow may be seen in his article on Middleton
in Shakespeariana, No. xii.
Introduction. lxxxvii
In v. i we have a mention of " yellow bands " as " hate-
ful," — an evident allusion to the execution (Nov. 1615)
of the infamous Mrs. Turner, the poisoner, who invented
yellow bands and wore a yellow ruff at the gallows. In
i. 2 ("You play a scornful woman ") there appears to be
an allusion to Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady,
which was written some time between 1609 and 1615.
From internal evidence I should be inclined to group
The Widow with a Mad World, my Masters, and A Trick
to Catch the Old One, assigning 1608-9 as the date of
original production. It was revised at a later date — not
improbably by Fletcher.
Anything for a Quiet Life was printed in 1662. Ac-
cording to Malone, " it appears from internal evidence
to have been written about the year 1 6 1 9 " {Shakespeare,
ed. 1 82 1, xv. 425). Mr. Fleay, without giving any rea-
son for his judgment, assigns circ. 1623 as the date of
production. In i. 1 we have mention of " the late ill-
starred voyage to Guiana." Dyce supposed that a re-
ference was intended to the first voyage under Raleigh
in 1595, but Middleton must certainly have been alluding
to something more recent — probably to the voyage of
16 1 7. In ii. 1 there may perhaps be a reference to The
Changeling (" You shall see me play the Changeling " ).
The project, ridiculed in i. 1, of "devising new water
mill[s]for the recovery of drowned lands " is mentioned in
Ben Jonson's The Devil is an Ass, ii. 1, acted in 1616.
I suspect that the play in its present shape has been
revised by another hand. The character of Lady
Cressingham is drawn very much in the manner of
lxxxviii Introduction.
Shirley, who delighted to ridicule the whims and extra-
vagances of high-bred ladies. Perhaps Middleton left
the play unfinished and Shirley completed it.
In 1626 Middleton composed the pageant The Tri-
umphes of Health and Prosperity for the mayoralty of
Sir Cuthbert Hacket. The first speech makes allusion
to the devastations (so graphically described in Thomas
Brewer's Weeping Lady) caused by the plague in the
previous year.
We have seen that in 1623 ( v ^ e note I > P- x 'i-) Mid-
dleton was living in Newington Butts. He was buried
there on 4th July 1627, as Dyce discovered from an entry
in the register of the parish church. 1 On 7th February
1627-28 his widow, Magdalen Middleton, applied to the
civic authorities for pecuniary assistance, and received
twenty nobles. The entry (Rep. No. 42, f. 89) runs : —
1 Chetwood in his account of Middleton, prefixed to a reprint of
Blurt, Master Constable, in ^Select Collection of OldPlays, Dublin, 1750,
tells us that Middleton "lived to a very great age. . . . Wemayjudge
of his longasvity by his works ; since his first play was acted in 1601
and his last in 1665. . . . That he was much esteem'd by his brother
poets we may judge by four lines of Sir William Lower upon his comedy
call'd A Michaelmas Term, 1663." The four lines given by Chetwood
are: —
' ' Tom Middleton his numerous issue brings,
And his last Muse delights us when she sings ;
His halting age a pleasure doth impart,
And his white locks show Master of his Art."
Chetwood took a pride and pleasure in gulling his readers : Michaelmas
Termwas printed in 1607, and there is no edition of 1663. The ingenious
lines ascribed to Sir William Lower (who died in 1662) are of course a
forgery.
Introduction. Ixxix
" Item : this day, upon the humble petition of Magdalen
Middleton, late wife of Thomas Middleton, deceased, late
Chronologer of this City, it is ordered by this Court that
Mr. Chamberlain shall pay unto her as the gift of this
Court the sum of twenty nobles." A " Mrs. Midelton "
was buried at Newington Butts on 18th July 1628 (as
appears from an entry in the parish register) : she was
doubtless the dramatist's widow. Ben Jonson succeeded
Middleton in the post of City Chronologer.
There can be little doubt that Middleton was con-
cerned in the authorship of more than one of the plays
included among the works of Beaumont and Fletcher.
I reserve that point for consideration hereafter in my
Introduction to Beaumont and Fletcher. Mr. Fleay
attributes to Middleton A Match at Midnight and The
Puritan. The first of these comedies was printed in 1633,
and is ascribed on the title-page to " W. R." i.e. William
Rowley. I strongly favour Mr. Fleay's view that Rowley
merely altered it (arc. 1622) for a revival, and that the
real author was Middleton. It is written very much in
the style of Middleton's early comedies of intrigue.
The Puritan was published in 1607, and the title-page
states that it was "written by W. S.," — a fraudulent
attempt to induce the public to believe that Shakespeare
was the author, though Dyce and others suppose the
initials to belong to Wentworth Smith. Middleton
wrote a play called The Puritan Maid, Modest Wife and
Wanton Widow (entered in the Stationers' Registry,
9th September 1653) ; but this title will hardly suit The
Puritan, which, nevertheless, I believe to be by Mid'
xc Introduction.
dleton. One curious expression in The Puritan (C 3),
" by yon Bear at Bridge-foot in heaven," re-occurs in
Middleton's No Wit, No Help like a Woman's (vol. iv. p.
415). Steevens, not understanding the joke, altered the
word " heaven " to " even " in The Puritan. Through-
out the play we are reminded of Middleton. The satire
on the Puritans is what we find in The Family of Love;
and the picture of town-life that the play gives is quite
in the manner of Middleton's early comedies. George
Pyeboard is an inferior Witgood. It is the poorest of
Middleton's plays, unless we except Your Five Gallants,
but it is not unamusing. George Pyeboard is evidently
George Peele, the hero of the Merry Conceited Jests, which
were published in the same year (1607) as the play, and
furnished the playwright with hints. 1 Pyeboard's refer-
ences to his almanac (sig. F 4) recall several passages
in other plays of Middleton.
There are not many allusions to Middleton in the
writings of his contemporaries. 2 Jonson told Drummond
of Hawthornden in 16 19 " that Markham (who added his
English Arcadia) was not of the number of the Faithful,
i.e., Poets, and but a base fellow. That such were Day
and Middleton." I should like to think that this was but
1 Mr. Fleay discovers in The Puritan some satirical references to
Shakespeare, but my eyes cannot see through a millstone. It is a pity
that Mr. Fleay injures his own credit by his habit of jumbling fact and
fiction together.
2 A poet of our own time has paid to Middleton's genius the highest
tribute that it has yet received. See Mr. Swinburne's Sonnets on the
JJnglish Dramatists, No. IX,
Introduction. xci
the expression of a passing gust of discontent ; but we
have seen that six years afterwards Jonson went out of
his way to sneer at A Game at Chess. To the Duchess
of Malfi Middleton contributed commendatory verses
(in 1623), but Webster in the Address to the Reader
prefixed to The White Devil {1612), while complimenting
Chapman, Dekker, Heywood, &c, made no mention of
Middleton. In Taylor's Praise of Hempseed, 1620, are
the lines : —
" And many there are living at this day
Which do in paper their true worth display,
As Davis, Drayton, and the learned Dun, 1
Johnson, and Chapman, Marston, Middleton,
With Rowley, Fletcher, Withers, Massinger,
Heywood, and all the rest where'er they are,
Must say their lines but for the paper sheet
Had scarcely ground whereon to set their feet."
In a well-known passage of Heywood's Hierarchy of
Blessed Angels, 1635, Middleton is mentioned: —
" Fletcher and Webster, of that learned pack
None of the mean'st, yet neither was but Jack.
Decker's but Tom ; nor May nor Middleton,
And he's now but Jack Ford that once were John."
His name is also found on the list of poets in Howes'
continuation of Stow, 1615, p. 811. In Wit s Recreations
is the following epigram : —
"To Mr. Thomas Middleton.
Facetious Middleton, thy witty Muse
Hath pleased all that books or men peruse.
1 So Donne's name is frequently spelled.
VOL. I. h
xcii Introduction.
If any thee despise, he doth but show
Antipathy to wit in daring so :
Thy fame's above his malice, and 'twill be
Dispraise enough for him to censure thee."
The anonymous author of On the Time-Poets in the
Choice Drollery, 1656, is not complimentary : —
',' The squibbling Middleton 1 and Haywood sage,
Th' apologetick Atlas of the stage."
There are critics who station poets in order of merit
as a schoolmaster ranges his pupils in the classroom.
This process I do not intend to adopt with Middleton.
The test of a poet's real power ultimately resolves itself
into the question whether he leaves a permanent im-
pression on the mind of a capable reader, A poet may
carve cherry-stones with exquisite skill ; but mere artistry,
though a man might have the very touch of Meleager, soon
palls. It becomes more and more a relief to turn from
the yiKibimv iiouaua of this refined age to the Elizabethans.
Middleton may be charged with extravagance and coarse-
ness. True : but he could make the blood tingle ; he
1 In the ballad on the pulling down of the Cockpit by the prentices
(Shrove Tuesday 1616-17) we find : —
" Books old and young on heap they flung
And burnt them in the blazes,
Tom Dekker, Haywood, Middleton,
And other wandering crazes."
But I am not at all sure that the ballad is genuine. It is given in
Collier's Hist, of Eng. Dram. Lit., ed. *, pp. 386-388, "from a con-
temporary print."
Introduction. xciii
could barb his words so that they pierce the heart
through and through. If The Changeling, Women be-
ware Women, The Spanish Gipsy, and A Fair Quarrel
do not justify Middleton's claims to be considered a
great dramatist, I know not which of Shakespeare's
followers is worthy of the title.
ADDENDA. /^ ^ aJc^L
l
Fris. [within.] And I am Frisco, squire to a bawdy
house.
Doyt [within.] I have a jewel to deliver to thy mistress.
Fris. [within.'] Is't set with precious stones ? 81
- Doyt [within.] Thick, thick, thick.
Fris. [within.] Why, enter then, thick, thick, thick.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, who makes that yawling at
door?
Enter Frisco, and Doyt with Fontinelle's picture.
Fris. Here's signior Hippolito's man (that shall be)
come to hang you.
Imp. Trivia, strip that villain ; Simperina, pinch him,
slit his wide nose. Fie, fie, fie, I'll have you gelded for
this lustiness. 90
Fris. And. 1 she threatens to geld me unless I be lusty,
what shall poor Frisco do ?
Imp. Hang me?
Fris. Not I; hang me if you will, and set up my
quarters too.
Imp. Hippolito's boy come to hang me ?
Doyt. To hang you with jewels, sweet and gentle;
that's Frisco's meaning, and that's my coming.
Imp. Keep the door.
Fris. That's my office : indeed I have been your
door-keeper so long, that all the hinges, the spring-locks,
and the ring, are worn to pieces. How if anybody
knock at the door ? 103
^ 1 If.
38 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act n.
Imp. Let them enter. [Exit Frisco.] Fie, fie, fie, fie,
fie, his great tongue does so run through my little ears !
'tis more harsh than a younger brother's courting of a
gentlewoman, when he has no crowns. Boy !
JDoyt. At your service.
Imp. My service ? alas, alas, thou canst do me small
service 1 Did thy master send this painted gentleman to
me? in
Doyt. This painted gentleman to you.
Imp. Well, I will hang his picture up by the walls, till
I see his face ; and, . when I see his face, I'll take his
picture down. Hold it, Trivia.
Trio. It's most sweetly made.
Imp. Hang him up, Simperina.
Simp. It's a most sweet man.
Imp. And does the masque hold? — Let me see it
again. 120
Doyt. If their vizards hold, here you shall see all their
blind cheeks : this is the night, nine the hour, and I the
jack 1 that gives warning.
Simp. He gives warning, mistress ; shall I set him
out?
Doyt. You shall not need ; I can set out myself.
[Exit.
Imp. Flaxen hair, and short too ; O, that's the French
cut ! but, fie, fie, fie, these 2 flaxen-haired men are such
pulers, and such piddlers, and such chicken-hearts (and
1 The figure that struck the bell on the outside of a clock.
2 Old ed. " this."
scene ii.] Blurt, Master- Constable. 39
yet great quarrelers), that when they court a lady they are
for the better part bound to the peace ! No, no, no, no;
your black-haired man (so he be fair) is your only sweet
man, and in any service the most active. A banquet,
Trivia; quick, quick, quick. 134
Triv. In a twinkling. — 'Slid, my mistress cries like the
rod-woman, — quick, quick, quick, buy any rosemary and
bays ? [Aside and exit.
Imp. K little face, but a lovely face : fie, fie, fie, no
matter what face he make, so the other parts be legitimate
and go upright. Stir, stir, Simperina ; be doing, be doing
quickly; move, move, move. 141
Simp. Most incontinently. 1 — Move, move, move? O
sweet ! [Aside and exit.
Imp. Heigho ! as I live, I must love thee and suck
kisses from thy lips. Alack, that women should fall thus
deeply in love with dumb things, that have no feeling !
but they are women's crosses, and the only way to take
them is to take them patiently.
Re-enter Frisco, and Trivia and Simperina setting out
a banquet.
Heigho ! set music, Frisco !
Iris. Music, if thou hast not a hard heart, speak to
my mistress. [Music. 151
Imp. Say he scorn to marry me, yet he shall stand me
in some stead by being my Ganymede. If he be the most
decayed gallant in all Venice, I will myself undo myself
/ Immediately.
40 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act h.
and my whole state to set him up again. Though speak-
ing truth would save my life, I will lie to do him pleasure.
Yet to tell lies may hurt the soul : fie, no, no, no ; souls
are things to be trodden under our feet when we dance
after love's pipe. Therefore here, hang this counterfeit 1
at my bed's feet. 160
Fris. If he be counterfeit, nail him up 2 upon one of
your posts. [Exit with the picture.
Imp. By the moist hand of love, I swear I will be his
lottery, and he shall never draw but it shall be a prize !
Curvetto knocks within.
Fris. [within.] Who knocks ?
Cur. [within.'] Why, 'tis I, knave.
Fris. [within^] Then knave knock there still.
Cur. [within.] Wut 3 open door ?
Fris. [within.] Yes, when I list I will.
Cur. [within.] Here's money.
Fris. [within.] Much! 4
Cur. [within.] Here's gold.
Fris. [within.] Away !
Cur. [within.] Knave, open.
Fris. [within.] Call to our maids ; good 5 night ; we
are all aslopen . 6 [Entering.
Mistress, if you have ever a pinnace to set out, you may
" X 1 Portrait.
" 2 As a piece of counterfeit money is nailed up.
""* Wilt.
^* An ironical expression, — implying little or none.
"- 5 Old ed. " God." « Asleep.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 41
now have it manned and rigged ; for Signior Curvetto, —
he that cries, / am an old courtier, but lie close, lie close,
when our maids swear he lies as wide as any courtier in
Italy— 173
Imp. Do we care how he lies ?
[Curvetto knocks again within.
Fris. Anon, anon, anon ! — this old hoary red deer
serves himself in at your keyhole.
Cur. [within.] What, Frisco !
Fris. Hark! shall he enter the breach ?
Imp. Fie, fie, fie, I wonder what this gurnet's head
makes here ! Yet bring him in ; he will serve for picking
meat. [Exit Frisco.] Let music play, for I will feign
myself to be asleep. [Music. 182
Re-enter Frisco with Curvetto.
Cur. [giving Frisco money.] Threepence, and here's a
teston ; * yet take all ;
Coming to jump, we must be prodigal :
Hem!
I'm an old courtier, and I can lie close :
Put up, Frisco, put up, put up, put up.
Fris. Anything at your hands, sir, I will put up,
because you seldom pull out anything.
Simp. Softly, sweet signior Curvetto, for she's fast. 19°
Cur. Hah ! fast ? my roba 2 fast, and but young night ?
She's wearied, wearied : — ah, ha, hit I right ?
1 " Or tester (so called from the head, teste, stamped on it), i.e., six-
pence: it was originally of higher value." — Dyce.
2 Wanton. — Bona roba was a common term for a courtesan.
42 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act n.
Simp. How, sir, wearied ? marry, foh !
Fris. Wearied, sir ? marry_.muff ! x
Cur. No words here, mouse? 2 no words, no words,
sweet rose ?
I'm an hoary courtier, and lie close, lie close.
Hem!
Fris. An old hoary courtier? why, so has a jowl of
ling and a musty whiting been, time out of mind. Me-
thinks, signior, you should not be so old by your face. 200
Cur. I have a good heart, knave ; and a good heart
Is a good face-maker; I'm young, 'quick, brisk.
I was a reveller in a long stock, 3
(There's not a gallant now fills such a stock,)
Plump hose, pan'd, 4 stuft with hair (hair then was held
The lightest stuffing), a fair cod-piece, — ho !
An eel-skin sleeve lasht here and there with, lace,
High collar lasht again, breech lasht also,
A little simpering ruff, a dapper cloak
With Spanish-button'd cape, my rapier here, 210
Gloves like a burgomaster here, hat here
(Stuck with some ten-groat brooch), and over all
A goodly long thick Ab ram-co loured 5 beard.
1 An expression of contempt. Cf. First Pt. Honest Whore, ii. 1 : —
'VMarry muff, sir, are you grown so dainty ? "
2 A common term of endearment.
' 3 Stocking.
v i With panels or stripes inserted.
I '■ Dyce quotes from Soliman and Perseda, 1599, sig. H. 3 :—
"Where is the eldest sonne of Pryam ?
That airaham-couloured Troion."
j In tapestry Cain was represented with a sandy-coloured beard ; Judas
with a red beard. Steevens thought that " Abraham " might be a cor-
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 43
Ho God, ho God ! thus did I revel it,
When Monsieur Motte lay here 1 ambassador.
But now those beards are gone, our chins are bare ;
Our courtiers now do all against the hair. 2
I can lie close and see this, but not see :
I'm hoary, but not hoary as some be. 2 i9
Imp. Heigho ! who's that ? Signior Curvetto ! by my
virginity —
Cur. Hem ! no more.
Swear not so deep at these 3 years : men have eyes,
And though the most are fools, some fools are wise.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie : and you meet me thus at half
weapon, one must down.
Fris. She for my life. [Aside.
Imp. Somebody shall pay for't.
Fris. He, for my head. [Aside. 229
Imp. Do not therefore come over me so with cross
blows : no, no, no, I shall be sick if my speech be stopt.
By my virginity I swear, — and why may not I swear by
that I have not, as well as poor musty soldiers do by
their honour, brides at four-and-twenty, ha, ha, ha ! by
their maidenheads, citizens by their faith, and brokers as
ruption of "auburn:" in Coriolanus, ii. 3, where fol. 4 gives "our
heads are some brown, some black, some auburn" the three earlier
folios read " Abram."
S * i.e. England, — though the scene of the play is laid in Venice.
Monsieur Motte, or La Motte, was a prominent figure at the English
court in the early years of Elizabeth's reign.
2 "Against the hair" is equivalent to our expression "against the
grain."
^ 3 Old ed. "this."
44 Blurt, Master-Constable. [acth.
they hoped to be saved? — by my virginity I swear, I
dreamed that one brought me a goodly codshead, and in
one of the eyes there stuck, methought, the greatest pre-
cious stone, the most sparkling diamond : O, fie, fie, fie,
fie, fie, that diamonds should make women such fools ! 240
Cur. A codshead and a diamond ? ha, ha, ha !
'Tis common, common : you may dream as well
Of diamonds and of codsheads, where's not one,
As swear by your virginity, where's none. —
I am that codshead ; she has spied my stone,
My diamond : noble wench, but nobler stone ; 1
I'm an old courtier, and lie close, lie close.
[Aside, and puts it up.
[The cornets sound a lavolta , which the masquers are
to dance: Camillo, Hippolito, and other gallants,
every one, save Hip polito, 2 with a lady masqued,
and zanies 3 with torches^ enter suddenly: Cur-
vetto offers to depart.
Imp. No, no, no, if you shrink from me, I will not love
you : stay.
Cur. I am conjured, and will keep my circle. 250
[They dance.
1 Dyce's correction for " no see " of the old ed.
„ a "Because, probably, Imperia was to be his partner. The lavolta
was a dance for two persons, described by Sir J. Davies, in his Orchestra,
as 'a lofty jumping or a leaping round.' See also Douce's Illust. of
Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 489." — Dyce.
■" 3 Here and in iii. 1 (where Frisco is described as " Imperia the
courtesan's zany "), the word zany must mean attendant. See the
quotation from Florio's New World of Words in Nares' Glossary.
s * Dyce's correction for " coaches" of the old ed.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 45
Imp. Fie, fie, fie, by the neat tongue of eloquence, this
measure is out of measure ; 'tis too hot, too hot. Gallants,
be not ashamed to show your own faces. Ladies, un-
apparel your dear beauties. So, so, so, so; here is a
banquet ; sit, sit, sit. ■ Signior Curvetto, thrust in among
them. Soft music, there ! do, do, do.
[Music, while they seat themselves.
Cur. I will first salute the men, close with the women,
and last sit.
Hip. But not sit last: a banquet, and have these
suckets 1 here ! O, I have a crew of angels 2 prisoners in
my pocket, and none but a good bale 3 of dice can fetch
them out. — Dice, ho! — Come, my little lecherous baboon;
by Saint Mark, you shall venture your twenty crowns. 263
Cur. And have but one.
Hip. I swore first.
Cur. Right, you swore ;
But oaths are now, like Blurt our constable,
Standing for nothing. — A mere plot, a trick :
The masque dogg'd me, I hit it in the nick ;
A fetch to get my diamond, my dear stone ;
I'm a hoary courtier, but lie close, close, close. —
I'll play, sir. [Aside.
Hip. Come.
Cur. But in my t'other hose. 4 [Exit. 270
*- — ■ \^- —
1 Sweetmeats. 2 See note 2, p. 32. s Pair.
■" 4 Cf. Spanish Gipsy, iii. 2 : —
"But being asked, as I suppose,
Your answer will be, in your t'other hose."
The expression was proverbial, and was equivalent to " Not if I know
it."
46 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act n.
Omnes. Curvetto!
Hip. Let him go : I knew what hook would choke
him, and therefore baited that for him to nibble upon.
An old comb-pecked rascal, that was beaten out a' th'
cock-pit, when I could not stand a' high lone 1 without
I held a thing, to come crowing among us ! Hang him,
lobster. Come, the same oath that your foreman took,
take all, and sing.
Song.
Love is like a lamb, and love is like a lion ;
Fly from love, he fights, fight, then does he fly on; 280
Love is all in fire, and yet is ever freezing ;
Love is much in winning, yet is more in leesing ; 2
Love is ever sick, and yet is never dying;
Love is ever true, and yet is ever lying ;
Love does doat in liking, and is mad in loathing ;
Love indeed is anything, yet indeed is nothing.
During the song Lazarillo enters?
Laz. Mars armipotent with his court of guard, give
sharpness to my toledo ! I am beleaguered. O Cupid,
grant that my blushing prove not a linstock, and give
1 Dyce mentions that in Romeo and Juliet, i. 3 (1. 35), the 1397 4to.
reads "high lone" (1599 4to. "hylone ;" later eds. "alone"). He also
compares W. Rowley's A Shoemaker u. Gentleman, 1638 : — "The
warres has lam'd many of my old customers, they cannot go a hie lone."
Sig. B. 4. I have met the expression in Marston's 2d part of Antonio
and Mellida, iv. 4 : —
' ' As some weak-breasted dame
Giveth her infant, puts it out to nurse ;
And when it once goes high-lone, takes it back,"
* i.e. losing.
3 "His entrance is not marked in the old copy, and perhaps the poet
intended that he should come in with the masquers." — Dyce.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 47
fire too suddenly to the Roaring Meg l of my desires ! —
Most sanguine-cheeked ladies — 291
Hip. 'S foot, how now, Don Dego ? 2 sanguine-
cheeked ? dost think their faces have been at cutler's ? 3
out, you roaring, tawney-faced rascal! 'Twere a good
deed to beat my hilts about's coxcomb, and then make
him sanguine-cheeked too.
Cam. Nay, good Hippolito.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie, fie, fie ; though I hate his company,
I would not have my house to abuse his countenance ;
no, no, no, be not so contagious : I will send him hence
with a flea in's ear. 3 01
Hip. Do, or I'll turn him into a flea, and make him
skip under some of your petticoats.
Imp. Signior Lazarillo.
Laz. Most sweet face, you need not hang out your
silken tongue as a flag of truce, for I will drop at your
feet ere I draw blood in your chamber. Yet I shall
hardly drink up this wrong : for your sake I will wipe it
1 " Roaring Meg " was the name of a cannon. See Nares' Glossary,
ed. Halliwell.
"" 2 " Don Diego " (or " Dego ") was the name of a certain Spaniard,
who, as the dramatists are constantly reminding us, ' ' made Paul's to
stink." Hence Don Diego was derisively used for Spaniard.
3 " So Beaumont and Fletcher : —
' Piso. O' my life, he looks
Of a more rusty, swarth complexion
Than an old armory doublet.
Lod. I would send
His face to th' cutler's then, and have it sanguirid.'
— Captain, act. ii. sc. 2.
'Sanguine. The bloud-stone wherewith cutlers do sanguine their
hilts.'— Cotgrave's Dict."—Dyce.
48 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act n.
out for this time. I would deal with you in secret, so
you had a void room, about most deep and serious
matters. 3 11
Imp. I'll send these hence. — Fie, fie, fie, I am so
choked still with this man of gingerbread, and yet I can
never be rid of him ! but hark, Hippolito.
[ Whispers Hippolito.
Hip. Good ; draw the curtains, put out candles ; and,
girls, to bed. [Exeunt x all but Imperia and Lazarillo.
Laz. Venus, give me suck from thine own most white
and tender dugs, that I may batten in love. Dear in-
strument of many men's delight, are all these women ? 3X9
Imp. No, no, no, they are half men and half women.
Laz. You apprehend too fast : I mean by women,
wives ; for wives are no maids, nor are maids women.
If those unbearded gallants keep the doors of their wed-
lock, those ladies spend their hours of pastime but ill,
O most rich armful of beauty ! But if you can bring all
those females into one ring, into one private place, I
will read a lecture of discipline to their most great and
honourable ears, wherein I will teach them so to carry
their white bodies, either before their husbands or before
their lovers, that they shall never fear to have milk thrown
in their faces, nor I wine in mine, when I come to sit
upon them in courtesy. 33 2
Imp. That were excellent : I'll have them all here at
your pleasure.
Laz. I will show them all the tricks and garbs of
1 Not marked in the old ed.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 49
Spanish dames; I will study for apt and [ejlegant
phrase to tickle them with; and when my devise is
ready, I will come. Will you inspire into your most
divine spirits the most divine soul of tobacco ? 339
Imp. No, no, no ; fie, fie, fie, I should be choked up,
if your pipe should kiss my underlip.
Laz. Henceforth, most deep stamp of feminine per-
fection, my pipe shall not be drawn before you but in
secret.
Re-enter Hippolito and the rest of the Masquers, as before,
dancing: Hippolito takes Imperia ; and then exeunt
all except Lazarillo.
Laz. Lament my case, since thou canst not provoke
Her nose to smell, love fill thine own with smoke. 1
\Exit.
1 Dyce thought that part of this scene had been lost at the press.
The conclusion is certainly very abrupt.
VOL. I.
( 5o )
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Street before Hippolito's House.
Enter Hippolito and Frisco.
Fris. The wooden picture you sent her hath set her
on fire ; and she desires you, as you pity the case of a
poor desperate gentlewoman, to serve that Monsieur in
at supper to her.
Enter Camillo with Musicians.
Hip. The Frenchman ? Saint Denis, let her carve
him up. Stay, here's Camillo. Now, my fool in fashion,
my sage idiot, up with these brims, 1 down with this devil,
Melancholy ! Are you decayed, concupiscentious ina-
morato ? News, news ; Imperia doats on Fontinelle. 9
Cam. What comfort speaks her love to my sick heart ?
Hip. Marry, this, sir. Here's a yellow-hammer flew
to me with thy water ; and I cast it, and find that his
1 Camillo has his hat drawn over his eyes, as the Inamorato is repre-
sented in the engraved frontispiece of Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.
Olded. " this brimmes."
scene i.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 5 1
mistress being given to this new falling sickness, will cure
thee. The Frenchman, you see, has a soft marmalady
heart, and shall no sooner feel Imperia's liquorish desire
to lick at him, but straight he'll stick the brooch of her
longing in it. Then, sir, may you, sir, come upon my
sister, sir, with a fresh charge, sir ; sa, sa, sa, sa ! once
giving back, and thrice coming forward ; she yield, and
the town of Brest is taken. 20
Cam. This hath some taste of hope. Is that the
Mercury
Who brings you notice of his mistress' love ?
Fris. I may be her Mercury, for my running of errands ;
but troth is, sir, I am Cerberus, for I am porter to hell.
Cam. Then, Cerberus, play thy part : here, search that
hell ; [Gives him a key.
There find and bring forth that false Fontinelle.
[Exit Frisco.
If I can win his stray'd thoughts to retire
From her encounter'd eyes, whom I have singled
In Hymen's holy battle, he shall pass
From hence to France, in company and guard 3°
Of mine own heart : — he comes, Hippolito.
Enter Fontinelle talking with Frisco.
Still looks he like a lover : poor gentlema n,
Loveus_tl^jflind'^^lr.caig4)hysi^. - ajnd„the pill
That leaves the hear t_sick_and p'erturns the will.
Font. O happy persecution, I embrace thee
With an unfetter'd soul ! So sweet a thing
Is it to sigh upon the rack of love,
52 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act in.
Where each calamity is groaning witness
Of the poor martyr's faith. I never heard
Of any true affection, but 'twas nipt 4°
With care, that, like the caterpillar, eats
The leaves off the spring's sweetest book, the rose.
Love bred on earth, is often nurs'd in hell ;
By rote it reads woe, ere it learn to spelL
Cam. Good morrow, French lord.
Hip. Bon jour, Monsieur:
Font. To your secure and more than happy self
I tender thanks, for you have honour'd me.
You are my jailor, and have penn'd me up,
Lest the poor fly, your prisoner, should alight
Upon your mistress' lip, and thence derive 50
The dimpled print of an infective touch.
Thou secure tyrant, yet unhappy lover,
Couldst thou chain mountains to my captive feet,
Yet Violetta's heart and mine should meet.
Hip. Hark, swaggerer, there's a little dapple-coloured
rascal ; ho, a bona-roba ; her name's Imperia ; a gentle-
woman, by my faith, of an ancient house, and has goodly
rents and comings in of her own ; and this ape would fain
have thee chained to her in the holy state. Sirrah, she's
fallen in love with thy picture ; yes, faith. To her, woo
her, and win her ; leave my sister, and thy ransom's paid ;
all's paid, gentlemen : by th' Lord, Imperia is as good a
girl as any is in Venice. 63
Cam. Upon mine honour, Fontinelle, 'tis true ;
The lady doats on thy perfections :
scene i.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 53
Therefore resign ray Violetta's heart
To me, the lord of it ; and I will send thee —
1 Font. O, whither ? to damnation, wilt thou not ? '
', Think 'st thou the purity of my true soul
jCan taste your leperous counsel? no, I defy you 70
I Incestancy 1 dwell on his rivell'd 2 brow
That weds for dirt ; or on th' enforced heart
That lags in rearward of his father's charge,
When to some negro-guelderling he's clogg'd
By the injunction of a golden fee !
When I call back my vows to Violetta,
May I then slip into an obscure grave,
Whose mould, unprest with stony monument,
Dwelling in open air, may drink the tears
Of the inconstant clouds, to rot me soon 80
Out of my private linen sepulchre !
Cam. Ay !
Is this your settled resolution ?
Font. By my love's best divinity, it is.
Cam. Then bear him to his prison back again. —
This tune must alter ere thy lodging mend :
To death, fond Frenchman, thy slight love doth tend.
Font. Then, constant heart, thy fate with joy pursue ;
Draw wonder to thy death, expiring true. [Exit. 89
Hip. After him, Frisco ; enforce thy mistress's passion.
Thou shalt have access to him, to bring him love tokens :
if they prevail not, yet thou shalt still be in presence, be't
but to spite him. In, honest Frisco.
1 A word coined by Middleton. "^ 3 Shrivell'd.
54 Bhirt, Master-Constable. [act in.
Fris. I'll vex him to the heart, sir ; fear not me.
Yet here's a trick perchance may set him free.
[Aside and exit.
Hip. Come, wilt thou go laugh and lie down ? 1 Now
sure there be some rebels in thy belly, for thine eyes do
nothing but watch and ward : thou'st not sleep these three
nights.
Cam. Alas, how can I ? he that truly loves i°°
Burns out the day in idle fantasies ;
And when the lamb bleating doth bid good night
Unto the closing day, then tears begin
To keep quick time unto the owl, whose voice
Shrieks like the belman 2 in the lover's ears :
Love's eye the jewel of sleep, O, seldom wears !
The early lark is waken'd from her bed,
Being only by love's plaints disquieted,
And, singing in the morning's ear, she weeps,
Being deep in love, at lovers' broken sleeps : no
But say a golden slumber chance to tie,
With silken strings the cover of love's eye,
Then dreams, magician-like, mocking present
Pleasures, whose fading leaves more discontent.
Have you these golden charms ?
Mus. We have, my lord.
Cam. Bestow them sweetly ;• think a lover's heart
Dwells in each instrument, and let it melt
1 There was a game at cards called laugh and lay down.
" " Here, perhaps, Middleton recollected Macbeth: —
' It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal belman.
Which gives the stern'st good night.' — Act ii. sc. z."—Dyce.
scene i.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 55
In weeping strains. Yonder direct your faces,
That the soft summons of a frightless parley
May creep into the casement. So, begin : 120
Music, speak movingly ; assume my part ;
For thou must now plead to a stony heart.
Song.
Pity, pity, pity I
Pity, pity, pity !
That word begins that ends a true-love ditty.
Your blessed eyes, like a pair of suns,
Shine in the sphere of smiling ;
Your pretty lips, like a pair of doves,
Are kisses still compiling.
Mercy hangs upon your brow, like a precious jewel : 130
O, let not then,
Most lovely maid, best to be lov'd of men,
Marble lie upon your heart, that will make you cruel 1
Pity, pity, pity I
Pity, pity, pity !
That word begins that ends a true-love ditty.
[Violetta appears above.
Viol. Who owes 1 this salutation?
Cam. Thy Camillo.
Viol. Is not your shadow there too, my sweet brother ?
Hip. Here, sweet sister.
Viol. I dreamt so. O, I am much bound to you ! H°
For you, my lord, have us'd my love with honour.
y/ 1 Owns.
56 Bhtrt, Master-Constable. [act m.
Cam. Ever with honour.
Viol. Indeed, indeed, you have.
Hip. 'S light, she means her French garfon.
Viol. The same. Good night ; trust me, 'tis somewhat
late,
And this bleak wind nips dead all idle prate.
I must to bed : good night.
Cam. The god of rest
Play music to thine eyes ! whilst on my breast
The Furies sit and beat, and keep care waking.
Hip. You will not leave my friend in this poor
taking ?
Viol. Yes, by the velvet brow of darkness ! l 5°
Hip. You scurvy tit — 's foot, scurvy anything ! Do
you hear, Susanna ? you punk, if I geld not your musk-
cat!' I'll do't, by Jesu. Let's go, Camillo.
Viol. Nay but, pure swaggerer, ruffian, do you
think
To fright me with your bugbear threats ? go by !
Hark, toss-pot, in your ear ; the Frenchman's mine,
And by these hands I'll have him !
Hip. Rare rogue, fine !
Viol. He is my prisoner, by a deed of gift ;
Therefore, Camillo, you have wrong'd me much
To wrong my prisoner. By my troth, I love him 160
The rather for the baseness he endures
For my unworthy self. I'll tell you what ;
Release him, let him plead your love for you ;
Ii love a' Hfe 1 to hear a man speak French
•f 1 As my life.
scene i.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 57
Of his complexion ; I would undergo
The instruction of that language rather far
Than be two weeks unmarried. By my life,
Because I'll speak true French, I'll be his wife.
Cam. O, scorn to my chaste love ! burst, heart.
Hip. 'S wounds, hold ! 17°
Cam. Come, gentle friends, tie your most solemn tunes
By silver strings unto a leaden pace.
False fair, enjoy thy base belov'd : adieu :
He's far less noble, and shall prove less true.
[Exeunt Camillo, Hippolito, and Musicians.
Enter Truepenny above with a letter.
True. Lady, Imperia the courtesan's zany 1 hath
brought you this letter from the poor gentleman in the
deep dungeon, but would not stay till he had an answer.
Viol. Her groom employed by Fontinelle ? O, strange !
I wonder how he got access to him.
I'll read, and reading my poor heart shall ache : 180
True love is jealous ; fears the best love shake.
[Reads.
Meet me at the end of the old chapel, next Saint Lorenzo's
monastery. Furnish your company with a friar, that there
he may consummate our holy vowsi Till midnight, farewell.
Thine, Fontinelle.
Hath he got opportunity to 'scape ?
O happy period of our separation !
S 1 See note 3, p. 44.
58 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act in.
Blest night, wrap Cynthia in a sable sheet,
That fearful lovers may securely meet ? [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Before Saint Lorenzo's Monastery.
Enter Frisco in Fontinelle's apparel, c^Fontinelle
mak ing himself ready 1 in Frisco's : they enter sud-
denly and in fear.
Fris. Play you my part bravely ; you must look like a
slave : and you shall see I'll counterfeit the Frenchman
most knavishly. My mistress, for your sake, charged me
on her blessing to fall to these shifts. I left her at cards :
she'll sit up till you come, because she'll have you play
a game at noddy . 3 You'll to her presently ?
Font. I will, upon mine honour.
Fris. I think she does not greatly care whether you
fall to her upon your honour or no. So, all's fit. Tell
my lady that I go in a suit of durance for her sake.
That's your way, and this pit-hole's mine. If I can 'scape
hence, why so; if not, he that's hanged is nearer to
heaven by half a score steps than he that dies in a bed :
and so adieu, monsieur. [Exit. 14
Font. Farewell, dear trusty slave. Shall I profane
This temple with an idol of strange love ?
When I do so, let me dissolve in fire.
Yet one day will I see this dame, whose heart
/
1 " Make ready" = dress. * a A game at cards.
scene in.] Bhirt, Master-Constable. 59
Takes off my misery : I'll not be so rude
To pay her kindness with ingratitude. 20
Enter Violetta and a Friar apace.
Viol. My dearest Fontinelle !
Font. My Violetta !
O God !
Viol. O God !
Font. Where is this reverend friar ?
Friar. Here, overjoy'd young man.
Viol. How didst thou 'scape ?
How came Imperia's man
Font. No more of that.
Viol. When did Imperia
Font. Questions now are thieves,
And lies in ambush to surprise our joys.
[O] my most happy stars, shine still, shine on !
Away, come : love beset had need be gone. 28
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Room in Imperia's House.
Enter Curvetto and Simperina.
Cur. I must not stay, thou sayst ?
Sim. God's me, away !
Cur. Buss, buss again; — here's sixpence; — buss
again, —
Farewell : I must not stay then ?
Sim. Foh !
Cur. Farewell .
60 Blurt, Master-Constable. [acthi.
At ten a' clock 1 thou sayst, and ring a bell,
Which thou wilt hang out at this window ?
Sim. Lord !
She'll hear this fiddling.
Cur. No, close, on my word.
Farewell : just ten a' clock ; I shall come in ?
Remember to let down the cord, — just ten :
Thou'lt open, mouse ? pray God thou dost Amen !
Amen ! Amen !
I'm an old courtier, wench, but I can spy i°
A young duck : close, mum ; ten ; close, 'tis not I.
[Exit.
Sim. Mistress, sweet ladies !
Enter Imperia and Ladies with table-books. 2
Imp. Is his old rotten aqua-vitae bottle stopt up ? is
he gone ? Fie, fie, fie, fie, he so smells of ale and onions,
and rosa-solis, fie. Bolt the door, stop the keyhole, lest
his breath peep in. Burn some perfume. I do not love
to handle these dried stockfishes, that ask so much taw-
ing : 3 fie, fie, fie.
First Lady. Nor I, trust me, lady ; fie. 19
Imp. No, no, no, no. Stools and cushions ; low stools,
low stools ; sit, sit, sit, round, ladies, round. {They seat
1 In the preceding scene, Violetta meets Fontenelle at midnight.
/ 3 Note-books.
/ 3 "To taw is, properly, to dress leather with alum : —
' Yes, if they taw him, as they do whit-leather,
Upon an iron, or beat him soft like stockfish. '\
— Beaumont and Fletcher's Captain, actiii. sc. 3." — Dyce.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 61
themselves.'] So, so, so, so ; let your sweet beauties be
spread to the full and most moving advantage ; for we
are fallen into his hands, who, they say, has an a b c for
the sticking in of the least white pin in any part of the
body.
Second Lady. Madam Imperia, what stuff is he like to
draw out before us ?
Imp. Nay, nay, nay, 'tis Greek to me, 'tis Greek to
me : I never had remnant of his Spanish-leather learning.
Here he comes : your ears may now fit themselves out
of the whole piece. 32
Enter Lazarillo. 1
Las. I do first deliver to your most skreet 2 and long-
fingered hands this head, or top of all the members, bare
and uncombed, to show how deeply I stand in reverence
of your naked female beauties. Bright and unclipt
angels, 3 if I were to make a discovery of any new-found
land, as Virginia or so, to ladies and courtiers, my speech
should hoist up sails fit to bear up such lofty and well-
rigged vessels : but because I am to deal only with the
civil chitty-matron, I will not lay upon your blushing
and delicate cheek[s] any other colours than such as will
. give lustre to your chitty faces : in and to that purpose,
our thesis is taken out of that most plentiful, but most
precious book entitled the Economical Cornucopia. 45
First Lady. The what ?
/ x Olded. "Lazarino." / 2 Discreet.
„ 3 See note 2, p. 32.
62 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act hi,
Laz. The Economical Cornucopia : thus,
Wise is that wife, who with apt wit complains
That she's kepi under, yet rules all the reins.
Second Lady. O, again, sweet signior ! — [writing]
complains
That she's kept under
What follows? 53
Laz. Yet rules all the reins :
Wise is that wife, who with apt wit complains
That she's kept under, yet rules all the reins.
Most pure and refined plants of nature, I will not, as this
distinction enticeth, take up the parts as they lie here in
order ; as first, to touch your wisdom, it were folly ; next,
your complaining, 'tis too common ; thirdly, your keeping
under, 'tis above my capachity ; and, lastly, the reins in
your own hands, that is the a-per-se 1 of all, the very cream
of all, and therefore how to skim off that only, only listen :
a wife wise, no matter ; apt wit, no matter ; complaining,
no matter ; kept under, no great matter ; but to rule the
roast is the matter. 66
Third Lady. That ruling of the roast goes with me.
Fourth Lady. And me.
Fifth Lady. And me ; I'll have a cut of that roast.
Laz. Since, then, a woman's only desire is to have the
reins in her own white hand, your chief practice, the
very same day that you are wived, must be to get hold
of these reins ; and being fully gotten, or wound about,
yet to complain, with apt wit, as though you had them not.
1 The chief excellence. See Nares' Glossary.
scene m.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 63
Imp. How shall we know, signior, when we have them
all or not? 76
Laz. I will furnish your capable understandings out
of my poor Spanish store with the chief implements, and
their appurtenances. Observe ; it shall be your first and
finest praise to sing the note of every new fashion at first
sight, and, if you can, to stretch that note above ela. 1
Omnes. Good.
Laz. The more you pinch your servants' bellies for
this, the smoother will the fashion sit on your back : but
if your goodman like not this music, as being too full
of crotchets, your only way is, to learn to play upon the
virginals , 2 and so nail his ears to your sweet humours.
If this be out of time too, yet your labour will quit the
cost ; for by this means your secret friend may have free
and open access to you, under the colour of pricking you
lessons. Now, because you may tie your husband's love
in most sweet knots, you shall never give over labouring
till out of his purse you have digged a gar den ; 3 and that
garden must stand a pretty distance from the chitty;
for by repairing thither, much good fruit may be grafted.
First Lady. Mark that. 96
Laz. Then, in the afternoon, when you address your
sweet perfumed body to walk to this garden, there to
gather a nosegay, — sops-in-wine, 4 cowslips, columbines,
y
* The highest note in the scale.
2 A rectangular musical instrument, of the spinnet kind.
'/ 3 "As these words are given in italics, they are probably intended as
a quotation from the Economical Cornucopia." — Dyce.
4 Supposed to be the flowers now called pinks. »_^-
64 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act hi.
heart's-ease, &c, — the first principle to learn is, that you
stick black patches for the rheum on your delicate blue
temples, though there be no room for the rheum : black
patches 1 are comely in most women, and being well
fastened, draw men's eyes to shoot glances at you. Next,
your ruff must stand in print ; 2 and for that purpose, get
poking-sticks 3 with fair and long handles, lest they scorch
your lily sweating hands. Then your hat with a little
brim, if you have a little face ; if otherwise, otherwise.
Besides, you must play the wag with your wanton fan ;
have your dog, — called Pearl, 4 or Min, or Why ask you,
or any other pretty name, — dance along by you ; your
embroidered muff before you, on your ravishing hands ;
but take heed who thrusts his fingers into your fur. 113
Second Lady. We'll watch for that.
Laz. Once a quarter take state upon you and be chick. 5
Being chick thus politicly, lie at your garden ; your,
lip-sworn servant may there visit you as a physician ;
where 6 otherwise, if you languish at home, be sure your
husband will look to your water. This chickness may be
increased, with giving out that you breed young bones ;
/ 1 It is hardly necessary to mention that black patches on the face
were formerly considered ornamental.
/ 2 In a precise manner. Nicholas Breton describes an " effeminate
fool " as one who loves " to have his ruffs set in print, to pick his teeth
and play with a puppet."— The Good and the Bad, &c., 1616.
J 3 Sticks of steel for setting the plaits of the ruff.
v * " Pearl " was a not uncommon name for a dog. It occurs in Day's
Isle of Gulls (v. 4), Rowlands' Letting of Humour's Blood in the Head
Vein (epigram 33), &c.
/ 5 Affected pronunciation of " sick." A few lines below we have
" chickness." Z 6 Whereas.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 65
and to stick flesh upon those bones, it shall not be amiss
if you long for peascods at ten groats the cod, and for
cherries x at a crown the cherry. 123
First Lady. O dear tutor !
Second Lady. Interrupt him not.
Laz. If, while this pleasing fit of chickness hold you,
you be invited forth to supper, whimper and seem un-
willing to go ; but if your goodman, bestowing the sweet
duck and kiss upon your moist lip, entreat, go. Marry,
my counsel is, you eat little at table, because it may be
said of you, you are no cormorant ; yet at your coming
home you may counterfeit a qualm, and so devour a posset.
Your husband need not have his nose in that posset j no,
trust your chambermaid only in this, and scarcely her ;
for you cannot be too careful into whose hands you
commit your secrets. 136
Omnes. That's certain.
Laz. If you have daughters capable, marry them by no
means to chittizens, but choose for them some smooth-
chinned, curled-headed gentlemen ; 2 for gentlemen will lift
up your daughters to their own content ; and to make
these curled-pated gallants come off the more roundly,
make your husband go to the herald for arms ; and let
it be your daily care that he have a fair and comely crest ;
yea, go all the ways yourselves you can to be made ladies,
especially if, without danger to his person, or for love or
money, you can procure your husband to be dubbed.
S 1 In Eastward Ho (i. i) it is mentioned among the " humours of the
city-dames" that they "eat cherries only at an angel the pound."
/ 2 Old ed. "gentleman."
VOL. I. E
66 Blurt, Master-Constable. [actih.
The goddess of memory lock up these jewels, which I have
bestowed upon you, in your sweet brains ! Let these be
the rules to square out your life by, though you ne'er go
level, but tread you[r] shoes awry. If you can get these
reins into your lily hand[s], you shall need no coaches,
but may drive your husbands. Put it down ; and, accord-
ing to that wise saying of you, be saints in the church,
angels in the street, devils in the kitchen, and apes in
your bed : upon which leaving you tumbling, pardon me
that thus abruptly and openly I take you all up. 157
First Lady. You have got so far into our books, signior,
that you cannot 'scape without a pardon here, if you take
us up never so snappishly.
Imp. Music there, to close our stomachs ! How do you
like him, madonna ? [Music.
Second Lady. O, trust me, I like him most profoundly !
why, he's able to put down twenty such as I am.
Third Lady. Let them build upon that; nay, more,
we'll henceforth never go to a cunning woman, since men
can teach us our lerry. 1
Fourth Lady. We are all fools to him ; and our hus-
bands, if we can hold these reins fast, shall be fools to us.
Second Lady. If we can keep but this bias, wenches,
our goodmen may perchance once in a month get a fore-
game of us ; but, if they win a rubbers, let them throw
their caps at it. 173
Imp. No, no, no, dear features, hold their noses to the
grindstone, and they're gone. Thanks, worthy signior :
fie, fie, fie, you stand bare too long. Come, bright
vi Learning.
scene in.] Blurt, Master- Constable. 67
mirrors, will you withdraw into a gallery and taste a slight
banquet ?
First Lady. We shall cloy ourselves with sweets, my
sweet madonna. ig
Second Lady. Troth, I will not, madonna Imperia.
Imp. No, no, no. Fie, fie, fie, signior Lazarillo, either
be you our foreman, or else put in these ladies, at your
discretion, into the gallery, and cut off this striving.
Laz. It shall be my office; my fees being, as they
pass, to take toll of their alablaster 1 hands. [Exeunt
Ladies: Imperia stays,~\ Admired creature, I summon
you to a parley : you remember this is the night ?
Imp. So, so, so, I do remember : here is a key ; that
is your chamber. — Lights, Simperina. — About twelve
a' clock you shall take my beauty prisoner : — fie, fie, fie,
how I blush !— at twelve a' clock. 192
Laz. Rich argosy of all golden pleasure —
Imp. No, no, no, put up, put up your joys till anon :
I will come, by my virginity. But I must tell you one
thing, that all my chambers are many nights haunted,
with what sprites none can see ; but sometimes we hear
birds singing, sometimes music playing, sometimes voices
laughing : but stir not you, nor be frightened at anything.
Laz. By Hercules, if any spirits rise, I will conjure them
in their own circles with toledo. 201
Imp. So, so, so ; lights for his chamber. — Is the trap-
door ready ? [Aside.
/ J A not uncommon form. William Alabaster, the well-known writer
on Cabalistic divinity, sometimes spelt his name Alatlaster.
68 Blurt, Master-Constable. [actih.
Simp. 'Tis set sure.
Imp. So, so, so, I will be rid of this broiled red sprat,
that stinks so in my stomach, fie ; I hate him worse than
to have a tailor come a-wooing to me. [Aside.] God's me !
the sweet ladies, the banquet, — I forget : fie, fie, fie, follow,
dear signior. — The trap-door, Simperina. [Aside, and exit.
Simp. Signior, come away.
Laz. Cupid, I kiss the nock 1 of thy sweet bow :
A woman makes me yield ; Mars could not so. 212
[Exit with Simperina.
/ 1 Notch (where the bowstring is tied).
( 69 )
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Street before Imperia's House y a cord hanging from
the window.
Enter Curvetto, with a lantern.
Cur. Just ten ? 'tis ten just : that's the fixed hour
For payment of my love's due fees,; that broke,
I forfeit a huge sum of joys : ho, love,
I will keep time just to a minute, I ;
A sweet guide's x loss is a deep penalty :
A night's so rich a venture 2 to taste wrack,
Would make a lover bankrupt, break his back.
No, if to sit up late, early to rise,
Or if this goldfinch, 3 that with sweet notes flies,
And wakes the dull eye even of a puritan, 10
Can work, then) wenches, Curvetto is the man.
I am not young, yet have I youthful tricks,
1 Probably a misprint, as Dyce suggested, for " girl's."
/ 2 So the 4to. Dyce reads "adventure." He is not correct in saying
the 4to. reads "aventure."
/ 3 Here the speaker chinks his purse.
70 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act iv.
Which peering day must not see ; no, close, close,
Old courtier, perilous : fellow, I can lie ;
Hug in your bosom, close, yet none shall spy.
Stay, here's the door, the window ; hah, this, this !
Cord? — umph ! — dear cord, thy blessed knot I kiss.
None peeps, I hope. Night, clap thy velvet hand
Upon all eyes ! if now my friend thou stand,
I'll hang a jewel at thine ear, sweet night ; 20
And here it is, l antern and candle-li^ht?
A peal, a lusty peal, set, ring love's knell ;
I'll sweat, but thus I'll bear away the bell.
[Pulls the cord hanging from the window, and
is drenched with water.
Enter Simperina above.
Sim. Signior, — who's there ? signior Curvetto ?
Cur. Umph, drown'd ! Noah's flood ! duck'd over
head and ears !
sconce, and O sconce ! 3 an old> soaker, O !
1 sweat now till I drop : what, villains, O !
Punks, punkateroes, nags, hags ! I will ban :
I've catch'd my bane.
1 Shrewd. The commoner form is parlous.
*/^ 2 "Lantern and candle-light " was the bellman's cry: see the song
at the end of Heywood's Rape of Lucrece. One of Dekker's tracts is
entitled Lanthorne and Candlelight, or the Bellmans second Night
Walke (1609), and another O per se O, Or a new Cryer of Lanthorne
and Candlelight, being an Addition or Lengthening of the Belhnan's
second Night-walke (1612).
^ s "i.e. (I suppose), O my head, and O my lantern ! " — Dyce.
i/- * i.e. rare, fine. In this sense the word ' ' old " still keeps its place in
the vocabulary of slang.
scene i.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 71
Sim. Who's there ?
Cur. A water-man.
Sim. Who rings that scolding peal ?
Cur. I am wringing wet, 3°
I'm wash'd : foh, here's rose-water sold by th' ounce !
This sconce shall batter down those windows — bounce !
Sim. What do you mean? why do you beat our
doors ?
What do you take us for ?
Cur. You're all damn'd whores.
Sim. Signior Curvetto !
Cur. Signior coxcomb, no. 1
Sim. What makes you be so hot ?
Cur. You lie, I'm cool ;
I'm an old courtier, but stinking fool.
Foh !
Sim. God's my life! what have you done? you are
in a sweet pickle if you pulled at this rope. 4°
Cur. Hang thyself, in't and I'll pull once again.
Sim. Marry muff, 2 will you up and rid e ? you're
mine elder. By my pure maidenhead, here's a jest !
why, this was a water-work to drown a rat that uses to
creep in at this window.
Cur. Fire on your water-works ! catch a drown'd
rat?
That's me, I have it, God a-mercy, head !
Rat ? me ; I smell a rat, I strike it dead.
Sim. You smell a sodden sheep's-head : a rat ? ay,
•/ 1 See note 3, p. 22. - See note :
72 Blurt, Master-Constable. [activ.
a rat : and you will not believe me, marry, foh ! I have
been believed of your betters, marry, snick up ! 5'
Cur. Simp, nay, sweet Simp, open again; why, Sim-
perina !
Sim. Go from mv window. 1 go, go from, &c, away ;
go by, old Jeronimo : 2 nay, and you shrink i' th' wetting,
walk, walk, walk.
Cur. I cry thee mercy ; if the bowl were set
To drown a rat, I shrink not, am not wet.
Sim. A rat by this hemp, and you could ha' smelt.
Hark you ; here's the bell, ting, ting, ting : would the
clapper were in my belly, if I am not mad at your
foppery; I could scratch, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, as my
mistress says. But go, hie you home, shift you, come
back presently : here you shall find a ladder of cords ;
climb up ; I'll receive you : my mistress lies alone ; she's
yours : away. 66
Cur. O Simp !
Sim. Nay, scud : you know what you promised me :
1 shall have simple yawling for this : begone and mum.
\_Simperiiia clafs-to the window?
Cur. Thanks, mum, dear girl ; I'm gone : 'twas for a
rat,
A rat upon my life : thou shalt have gifts ;
/ 1 These words are part of an old song, two stanzas of which are sung
by Merrythought in the Knight of the Burning Pestle, iii. 5. The whole
song is found, with some variations, at the end of Heywood's Rape of
Lucrece.
J 2 Thewords "goby, old Jeronimo" axe fiomKyd's Spanish Tragedy.
They are constantly ridiculed by the dramatists.
/ 3 The stage direction in the old ed. is simply " clap."
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 73
I love thee, though thou puts me to my shifts.
I knew 1 1 could be over-reach'd by none ;
A parlous 2 head ! lie close, lie close : I'm gone.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
A Room in Imperia's House.
Music suddenly plays and birds sing: enter Lazarillo
bareheaded, in his shirt, a pair of p antaples 3 on, a
rapier in his hand and a tobacco-pipe : he seems amazed,
and walks so up and down*
Laz. Saint Jacques and the Seven deadly Sins (that is,
the Seven Wise Masters of the world), pardon me, for
this night I will kill the devil !
[ Within.] Ha, ha, ha !
Laz. Thou prince of blackamoors, thou shalt have
small cause to laugh, if I run thee through. This cham-
ber is haunted : would I had not been brought a' bed in
it, or else were well delivered ! for my heart tells me 'tis
no good luck to have anything to do with the devil ; he's
a paltry merchant. 5 10
[Song within.]
Midnight's bell goes ting, ting, ting, ting, ting;
Then dogs do howlj and not a bird does sing
1 Olded. "know."
■f 2 Dyce's correction for ' ' Paulons " of the old ed.
*'• 3 Slippers.— The commoner form is "pantables."
4 In the old ed. is the further direction " A song presently within,"
— to instruct the singers to be in readiness.
y^ 6 ' ' Merchant " was (and is) sometimes used in a slang sense for
' ' fellow : " cf. " chap " (a contraction for ' ' chapman ").
74 Blurt, Master-Constable. [activ.
But the nightingale, and she cries twit, twit, twit,
twit ;
Owls then on every "lough do sit;
Ravens croak on chimneys' tops;
The cricket in the chamber hops ;
And the cats cry mew, mew, mew ;
The nibbling mouse is not asleep,
But he goes peep, peep, peep, peep, peep j
And the cats cries mew, mew, mew, 20
And still the cats cries mew, mew, mew.
Laz. I shall be moused by puss-cats, but I had rather
die a dog's death : they have nine lives a piece (like a
woman), and they will make it up ten lives, if they and I
fall a-scratching. Bright Helena of this house, would
thy Troy were a-fire, for I am a-cold ; or else would I
had the Greeks' wooden curtal 1 to ride away. Most
ambrosian-lipped creature, come away quickly, for this
night's lodging lies cold at my heart. [The Spanish
pavin 2 played within.] The Spanish pavin ? I thought
the devil could not understand Spanish : but since thou
art my countryman, O thou tawny Satan/ I will dance
after thy pipe. [Be dances the Spanish pavin.] Ho, 4
sweet devil, ho ! thou wilt make any man weary of thee,
though he deal with thee in his shirt. 35
Sweet beauty ! she'll not come : I'll fall to sleep,
And dream of her ; love dreams are ne'er too deep.
[Lies down and falls through a trap-door.
s/- 1 Horse. 2 A stately dance.
/ 3 ' ' Old ed. ' Satin, ' — a play on the words Satan and satin."— Dyce.
^ 4 "The word here (as in our very earliest poets) is equivalent to
1 stop.' " — Dyce. There is, perhaps, also an allusion to the exclamation
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 75
Enter Frisco above, laughing.
Fris. Ha, ha, ha !
Laz. Ho, ho, Frisco, madonna ! I am in hell, but here
is no fire ; hell-fire is all put out. What ho, so ho, ho !
I shall be drowned. I beseech thee, dear Frisco, raise
Blurt the constable, or some scavenger^ to come and
make clean these kennels of hell : for they stink so, that
I shall cast 1 away my precious self.
Enter Imperia above.
Imp. Is he down, Frisco ?
Fris. He's down : he cries out he's in hell ; it's heaven
to me to have him cry so.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie, let him lie, and get all to bed. [Exit.
Fris. Not all ; I've fatting knavery in hand.
He cries he's damm'd in hell : the next shall cry 5°
He's climbing up to heaven ; and here's the gin :
One woodcock's 2 ta'en ; I'll have his brother in. [Exit.
SCENE III.
A Street before Imperia's House; a ladder of ropes
hanging from the window.
Enter Curvetto with a lantern.
Cur. Brisk as a capering tailor ! I was wash'd,
But did they shave me ? no, I am too wise ;
" Ho, ho ! " with which the Devil in the Moralities greeted the audience
when he made his appearance on the stage.
•I 1 Vomit..
v/"2 " Woodcock " is a common term for "simpleton."
76 Bhirt, Master-Constable. [act it.
Lie close i' th' bosom of their knaveries ;
I'm an old hoary courtier, and strike dead ;
I hit my marks : ware, ware, a perilous 1 head !
Cast, 2 — I must find a ladder made of ropes ;
Enter Blurt, Slubber, Woodcock, and the rest of
the Watch.
Ladder and rope ; what follow ? hanging ; ay ;
But where ? ah ha, there does the riddle lie.
I have 'scap'd drowning ; but, but, but, I hope
I shall not 'scape the ladder and the rope. i°
Wood. Yonder's a light, master constable.
Blurt. Peace, Woodcock, the s conce 3 approaches.
Cur. Whew !
Blurt. Ay, whistling? — Slubber, jog the watch, and
give the lantern a flap.
Cur. Whew ! Simp, Simperina !
Enter Frisco above.
Fris. Who's there ?
Cur. Who's there ?
Fris. Signior Curvetto ? here's the ladder ; I watch to
do you a good turn : I am Frisco. Is not Blurt abroad
and his bill-men ? 21
Cur. No matter if they be ; I hear none nigh ;
1 See note i, p. 70. " Plan, devise.
y' 3 Lantern.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 77
I will snug close ; out goes my candle's eye ;
My sconce takes this in s nuff; 1 all's one; I care not.
Fris. Whyj_when_? 2
Cur. I come; close, close; hold, rope, and spare
not. [Begins to ascend the ladder.
Slub. Now the candle's out.
Blurt. Peace !
Cur. Frisco, light, light! my foot is slipt ; call
help.
Fris. Help, help, help ! thieves, thieves ! help, thieves,
&C.3 30
Blurt. Thieves ? where ? Follow close. Slubber, the
lantern. — Hold, I charge you, in the duke's name, stand :
sirrah, you're like to hang for this. — Down with him.
[They take Curvetto down.
Fris. Master Blurt, master constable, here's his ladder :
he comes to rob my mistress. I have been scared out
of my wits above seven times by him, and it's forty to
one if ever they come in again. I lay felony to his
charge.
Cur. Felony ? you cony-catching i slave.
Fris. Cony-catching will bear an action. I'll cony-
catch you for this. — If I can find our key, I will aid you,
Master Blurt : if not, look to him, as you will answer it
upon your deathbed. 43
1 " A poor conceit : to take in snuff is to be angry, to take offence.
So Shakespeare : — 'You'll mar the light; by taking it in snuff.'— Love's
Labour's Lost, act v. sc. 2." — Dyce.
2 A very common expression of impatience.
3 It was left, as frequently, to the actor to speak whatever he chose.
yr * Cogging, cheating.
78 Blurt, Master-Constable. [activ.
Blurt. What are you ?
Cur. A Venetian gentleman. — Woodcock, how dost
thou, Woodcock ? x
Wood. Thank your worship.
Blurt. Woodcock, you are of our side 2 now, and
therefore your acquaintance cannot serve. And you
were a gentleman of velvet, I would commit you, 50
Cur. Why, what are you, sir ?
Blurt. What am I, sir ? do not you know this staff?
I am, sir, the duke's own image : at this time the duke's
tongue (for fault of a better) lies in my mouth ; I am
constable, sir.
Cur. Constable, and commit me ? marry, Blurt, mas-
ter-constable !
Blurt. Away with him ! \He strives.
Omnes. It's folly to strive.
Blurt. I say, away with him. — I'll Blurt you ; I'll teach
you to stand covered to authority : your hoary head
shall be knocked when this staff is in place. 62
Cur. Ay, but, master-constable
Blurt. No, pardon me, you abuse the duke in me, that
am his cipher. — I say, away with him ; Gulch, away with
him ; Woodcock, keep you with me. I will be known for
more than Blurt.
\Exit, the rest of the Watch carrying off Curvetto.
1 In the old ed. these words are given to Blurt.
2 " Woodcock 'of our side" was a kind of proverbial expression,
borrowed (as Dyce supposes) from some game.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 79
Enter Lazarillo.
Laz. Thou honest fellow, the man in the moon, I
beseech thee set fire on thy bush of thorns, to light and
warm me, for I am dung-wet. I fell like Lucifer, I
think, into hell, and am crawled out, but in worse pickle
than my lean Pilcher. Hereabout is the ho thouse 1 of
my love. Ho, ho ! why ho, there ! y 3
Fris. Who's that ? What devil stands hohing at my
door so late?
Laz. I beseech thee, Frisco, take in Lazarillo's ghost.
Fris. Lazarillo's ghost ? haunt me not, I charge thee ;
I know thee not : I am in a dream of a dry summer,
therefore appear not to me.
Laz. Is not this the mansion of the cherry-lipped
madonna Imperia? 81
Fris. Yes ; how then ? You fly-blown rascal, what art
thou?
Laz. Lazarillo de Tormes : sweet blood, I have a poor
Span ish suit 2 depending in your house; let me enter,
most precious Frisco; the mistress of this mansion is
my beautiful hostess.
Fris. How, you turpentine pill, my wife your hostess ?
away, you Spanish vermin !
Laz. I beseech thee, most pitiful Frisco, allow my
lamentation. 91
Fris. And you lament here, I'll stone you with brick-
bats : I am asleep.
' 1 Euphemism for brothel.
2 He had retreated in his shirt.
80 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act iv.
Laz. My slop 1 and mandillion 2 lie at thy mercy, fine
Frisco ; I beseech thee, let not my case be thine : I must
and will lament.
Fris. Must you ? I'll wash off your tears ; away, you
hog's-face ! [Drenches him with foul water, and exit.
Laz. Thou hast soused my poor hog's-face. O Frisco,
thou art a scurvy doctor, to cast my water no better ! it
is most rammish urine : Mars shall not save thee ; I
will make a brown toast of thy heart, and drink it in a
pot of thy strong blood. 103
Re-enter Blurt and all his Watch.
Blurt. Such fellows must be taken down. Stand.
What white thing is yonder ?
Slub. Who goes there ? come before the constable.
Laz. ~Nbj dear host Blurt !
Blurt. You have Blurted fair : I am by my office
to examine you, where you have spent these two
nights. no
Laz. Most big Blurt, I answer thy great authority, that
I have been in hell; and am scratched to death with
puss-cats.
Blurt. Do you run a' th' score at an officer's house,
and then run above twelve score off ?
Laz. I did not run, my sweet-faced Blurt : the Spanish
fleet is bringing gold enough to discharge all from the
Indies : lodge me, most pitiful bill-man.
" 1 Loose breeches.
2 A loose garment without sleeves.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 81
Blurt Marry, and will. I am, in the duke's name, to
charge you with despicion s 1 of felony ; and burglary is
committed this night ; and we are to reprehend any that
we think to be faulty. Were not you at madonna freckle-
face's house ? 123
Laz. Signior, si.
Blurt. Away with him, clap him up.
Laz. Most thundering Blurt, do not clap me; most
thundering Blurt, do not clap me.
Blurt. Master Lazarus, I know you are a sore fellow
where you take, and therefore I charge you, in the duke's
name, to go without wrastling, though you be in your
shirt. 131
Laz. Commendable Blurt
Blurt. The end of my commendations is to commit
you.
Laz. I am kin to Don Dego , 2 the Spanish adelantado. 3
Blurt. If you be kin to Don Dego that was smelt out
in Paul's, you pack ; your lantedoes nor your lanteeroe s
cannot serve your turn. I charge you, let me commit
you to the tuition
Laz. Worshipful Blurt, do not commit me into the
hands of dogs. 141
Omnes. Dogs !
Blurt. Master Lazarus, there's not a dog shall bite you :
these are true bill-men, that fight under the common-
wealth's flag.
Laz. Blurt
1 Old ed. "despicious." / 2 See note 2, p. 47. 3 See note 1, p. 21.
vol. i. -trrt-v-^ F
82 Blurt, Master-Constable. [activ.
Blurt. Blurt me no Blurts; I'll teach all Spaniards
how to meddle with whores.
Laz. Most cunning constable, all Spaniards know that
already ; I have meddled with none. 150
Blurt. Your being in your shirt bewrays you.
Laz. I beseech thee, most honest Blurt, let not my
shirt b ewray 1 me.
Blurt. I say, away with him. [Music] Music ? that's
in the courtesan's; they are about some ungodly act;
but I'll play a part in't ere morning. Away with Lazarus.
Omnes. Come, Spaniard.
Laz. Thy kites and thee for this shall watch in dirt,
To feed on carrion.
Blurt. Hence, ptrooh !
Laz. O base Blurt !
O base Blurt ! O .base Blurt ! \Exeunt. 160
^ 1 A play on the words, iewray (betray) and ieray (befoul).
( 8 3 )
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A Room in Camillo's House.
Enter Camillo, Hippolito, Virgilio, Asorino, Bap-
tista, Bentivoglio, Doyt, and Dandyprat, all
weaponed, their rapier? sheaths in their hands.
Cam. Gentlemen and noble Italians, whom I love best,
who know best what wrongs I have stood under, being
laid on by him who is to thank me for his life ; I did
bestow him, as the prize of mine honour, upon my love,
the most fair Violetta : my love's merit was basely sold
to him by the most false Violetta. Not content with this
felony, he hath dared to add the sweet theft of ignoble
marriage : she's now none's but his ; and he, treacherous
villain, any one's but hers : he doats, my honoured friends,
on a painted courtesan; and, in scorn of our Italian
laws, our family, our revenge, loathes Violetta's bed, for
a harlot's bosom. I conjure you, therefore, by all the
bonds of gentility, that as you have solemnly sworn a
most sharp, so let the revenge be most sudden. 14
Vir. Be not yourself a bar to that suddenness by this
protraction.
84 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
Omnes. Away, gentlemen, away then !
Hip. As for that light hobbyhorse, my sister, whose
foul name I will rase out with my poniard, by the honour
of my family, which her lust hath profaned, I swear —
and, gentlemen, be in this my sworn brothers — I swear,
that as all Venice does admire her beauty, so all the
world shall be amazed at her punishment. Follow,
therefore. 24
Vir. Stay, let our resolutions keep together : whither
go we first ?
Cam. To the strumpet Imperia's.
Omnes. Agreed : what then ?
Cam. There to find Fontinelle : found, to kill him
Vir. And killed, to hang out his reeking body at his
harlot's window. 31
Cam. And by his body, the strumpet's
Hip. And between both, my sister's.
Vir. The tragedy is just : on then, begin.
Cam. As you go, every hand pull in a friend, to
strengthen us against all opposites. He that has any
drop of true Italian blood in him, thus vow, this morning,
to shed others', or let out his own. If you consent to this,
follow me. 39
Omnes. Via} away ! the treacherous Frenchman dies.
Hip. Catso, 2 Saint Mark, my pistol ! thus death flies.
[Exeunt.
^ 1 i. e. forward ! go on !
2 Dyce's correction for "At so" of the old ed. — " Catso,"an obscene
oath borrowed from the Italian, is of common occurrence.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 85
SCENE II.
A Room in Imperia's House.
Enter Fontinelle and Imperia, arm in arm.
Imp. Ah you little effeminate sweet chevalier, why
dost thou not get a loose periwig of hair on thy chin, to
set thy French face off? By the panting pulse of Venus,
thou art welcome a thousand degrees beyond the reach
of arithmetic. Good, good, good; your lip is moist
and moving; it hath the truest French close, even like
Mapew , 1 la, la, la, &c.
Font. Dear lady ! O life of love, what sweetness dwells
In love's variety ! The soul that plods
In one harsh book of beauty, but repeats 10
The stale and tedious learning, that hath oft
Faded the senses ; when, in reading more,
We glide in new sweets, and are starv'd with store.
Now, by the heart of love, my Violet
Is a foul weed, (O pure Italian flower !)
She a black negro, to the white compare
Of this unequalled beauty ? O most accurst,
That I have given her leave to challenge me !
But, lady, poison speaks Italian well,
And in her loath'd kiss I'll include her hell. 20
Imp. So, so, so ; do, do, do. Come, come, come,
will you condemn the mute rushes to be pressed to death
•C * " Qy. the beginning of some French song — Mais feu ?" — Dyce.
86 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
by your sweet body ? Down, down, down ; here, here,
here ; lean your head upon the lap of my gown ; good,
good, good. O Saint Mark ! here is a love-mark able to
wear more ladies' eyes for jewels than — O, lie still, lie
still ! I will level a true Venetian kiss over your right
shoulder.
Font. Shoot home, fair mistress, and as that kiss flies
From lip to lip, wound me with your sharp eyes. 3°
Imp. No, no, no, I'll beat this cherry-tree thus, and
thus, and thus, and you name wound. [Kisses him.
Font. I will offend so, to be beaten still.
Imp. Do, do, do ; and if you make any more such lips
when I beat you, by my virginity, you shall buss this rod.
Music, I pray thee be not a puritan ; sister to the rest of
the sciences, I knew the time when thou couldst abide
handling. [Loud music] O fie, fie, fie, forbear ! thou
art like a puny barber, new come to the trade; thou
pickst^ our ears too deep. So, so, so; will my sweet
prisoner entertain a poor Italian song ? 4 1
Font. O most willingly, my dear madonna !
Imp. I care not if I persuade my bad voice to wrestle
1 It seems to have been the custom for barbers to pick their cus-
tomers' ears. Stubbes, inveighing against barbers in his Display of
Corruptions, says : — " And when they come to washing, oh how gingerly
they behave themselves therein. For then shall your mouth be bossed
with the lather or foam that riseth of the balls (for they have their sweet
balls wherewith all they use to wash), your eyes closed must be anointed
therewith also. Then snap go the fingers, full bravely, God wot. Thus,
this tragedy ended, comes me warm cloths to wipe and dry him
withall ; next the. ears must ie picked and closed together again arti-
ficially forsooth " &c.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 87
with this music, and catch a strain : so, so, so ; keep time,
keep time, keep time. [Sings.
Love for such a cherry lip
Would be glad to pawn his arrows ; ]
Venus here to take a sip
Would sell her doves and team of sparrows.
But they shall not so ; 50
Hey nonny, nonny no 1
None but I this lip must owe, 1
Hey nonny, nonny no !
Font. Your voice doth teach the music.
Imp. No, no, no.
Font. Again, dear love.
Imp. Hey nonny, nonny no !
Did Jove see this wanton eye,
Ganymede must wait no longer ,
Phmbe 2 here one night did lie, 60
Would change her face and look much younger.
But they shall not so ;
Hey nonny, nonny no !
None but I this lip must owe ;
Hey nonny, nonny no !
Enter Frisco, Trivia, and Simperina, running.
Fris? O madonna !
Triv. Mistress !
Sim. Madonna !
1 Own. 2 i.e. did Phcebe here &c.
3 Olded. "Omnes. QMadona! Mistris ! Madonal"
88 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
Fris. Case up this gentleman : there's rapping at door ;
and one, in a small voice, says there's Camillo and
Hippolito. 7 1
Sim. And they will come in.
Font. Upon their deaths they shall, for they seek mine.
Imp. No, no, no : lock the doors fast ; Trivia, Sim-
perina, stir.
Triv. and Sim. Alas !
Font. Come they in shape of devils, this angel by,
I'm arm'd ; let them come in ; ud's foot, they die.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie ; I will not have thy white body
Viol. [within.'] What ho, madonna ! [Knocking within.
Imp. O hark ! Not hurt for the Rialto ! go, go, go,
put up ; by my virginity, you shall put up. 82
Viol. [wit/iin.~\ Here are Camillo and Hippolito.
Imp. Into that little room ; you are there as safe as in
France or the Low Countries.
Font. O God ! [Exit.
Imp. So, so, so; let them enter. Trivia, Simperina,
smooth my gown, tread down the rushes ; let them enter ;
do, do, do. [Exit Frisco.] No words, pretty darling.
La, la, la, hey nonny, nonny no ! [Singing. 9°
Re-enter Frisco with Violetta.
Fris. Are two men transformed into one woman ?
Imp. How now ? what m otion's this ? 1
Viol. By your leave, sweet beauty, pardon my excuse,
,/-- l Motion = plot, device.
scene ii.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 89
which, under the mask of Camillo's and my brother's
names, sought entrance into this house. Good sweetness,
have you not a property here improper to your house,
my husband ?
Imp. Hah ! your husband here ?
Viol. Nay, be as you seem to be, white dove, without
gall. 100
Imp. Gall ? your husband ? ha, ha, ha ! by my ventoy, 1
yellow 2 lady, you take your mark improper ; no, no, no,
my sugar-candy mistress, your goodman is not here, I
assure you : here ? ha, ha !
Triv. and Sim. Here !
Fris. Much \husbands here !
Viol. Do not mock me, fairest Venetian ; come, I know
he's here. Good faith, I do not blame him-; for your
beauty gilds 4 over his error. Troth, I am right glad that
you, my countrywoman, have received the pawn of my
affections : you cannot be hard-hearted, loving him ; nor
hate me, for I love him too. Since we both love him,
let us not leave him, till we have called home the ill
husbandry of a sweet straggler. Prithee, good wench,
use him well. 115
Imp. So, so, so !
Viol. If he deserve not to be used well (as I'd be loath
he should deserve it), I'll engage myself, dear beauty, to
thine honest heart : give me leave to love him, and I'll
/ 1 Fan.
y * Yellow was the colour of jealousy.
y^ s See note'4, P- 40.
^-* Olded. "glides."
9° Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
give him a kind of leave to love thee. I know he hears
me : I prithee, try mine eyes if they know him, that have
almost drowned themselves in their own salt water,
because they cannot see him. In troth, I'll not chide
him : if I speak words rougher than soft kisses, my pen-
ance shall be to see him kiss thee, yet to hold my peace.
Fris. And that's torment enough : alas, poor wench !
Sim. She's an ass, by the crown of my maiden-head :
I'd scratch her eyes out, if my man 1 stood in her tables.
Viol. Good partner, lodge me in thy private bed, 129
Where, in supposed folly, he may end
Determin'd sin. Thou smil'st : I know thou wilt.
What looseness may term dotage, truly read,
Is love ripe-gathered, not soon withered.
Imp. Good troth, pretty wedlock, thou makest my little
eyes smart with washing themselves in brine. I keep
your cock from his own roost, and mar such a sweet face,
and wipe off that dainty red, and make Cupid toll the
bell for your love-sick heart ? no, no, no ; if he were
Jove's own i ngle, 2 Ganymede; fie, fie, fie, I'll none.
Your chamber-fellow is within : thou shalt enjoy my bed
and thine own pleasure this night. — Simperina, conduct
in this lady. — Frisco, silence. Ha, ha, ha ! I am sorry
to see a woman so tame a fool. Come, come, come. J 43
Viol. Star of Venetian beauty, thanks. — O, who
Can bear this wrong, and be a woman too ? \Exeunt.
" A metaphor drawn from the game of tables." — Dyce.
Favourite.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 91
SCENE III.
A Street before Imperia's House.
Enter, on one side, Camillo, Hippolito, Virgilio,
Asorino, Baptista, Bentivoglio, Doyt, and
Dandyprat ; on the other, the Duke and Gentlemen,
and Blurt and his Watch with torches.
Omnes} We are dishonoured; give us way; he dies,
He dies
Duke. I charge you, by your duties to
The state, and love to gentry, sheathe your weapons.
Blurt. Stand : I charge you, put up your naked
weapons, and we'll put up our rusty bills.
Cam. Up to the hilts we will in his French body :
My lord, we charge you, by the ravish'd honour
Of an Italian lady, by our wrongs,
By that eternal blot, which, if this slave
Pass free without revenge, like leprosy 10
Will run o'er 2 all the body of our fames ;
Give open way to our just wrath, lest, barr'd
Duke. Gentlemen
Cam. Breaking the bonds of honour and of duty,
We cut a passage through you with our swords.
Omnes. He that withstands us, run him through.
Blurt. I charge you, i' th' duke's name, before his own
face, to keep the peace.
1 " The speeches which in the present scene have this prefix may be
assigned to whatever individuals of Camillo's party the reader pleases
to select."— .Dye*. 2 Olded. "over."
92 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
Cam. Keep thou the peace, that hast a peasant's heart.
Watch. Peasant? 20
^ Cam. Our peace must have her cheeks painted with
blood.
Omnes. Away through
Blurt. Sweet gentlemen, though you have called the
duke's own ghost peasant, for I walk for him i' th' night —
Kilderkin and Piss-breech hold out — yet hear me, dear
bloods. The duke here, for fault of a better, and myself
— Cuckoo, fly not hence — for fault of a better, are to lay
you by the heels, if you go thus with fire and sword ; for
the duke is the head, and I, Blurt, am the purtenance. —
Woodcock, keep by my side. — Now, sir[s] 3°
Omnes. A plague upon this Woodcock ! kill the watch.
Duke. Now, in the name of manhood, I conjure ye,
Appear in your true shapes, Italians ;
You kill your honours more in this revenge
Than in his murder. Stay, stand ; here's the house.
Blurt. Right, sir, this is the whore-house; here he
calls and sets in his staff.
Duke. Sheathe all your weapons, worthy gentlemen ;
And by my life I swear, if Fontinelle
Have stain'd the honour of your sister's bed, 40
The fact being death, I'll pay you his proud head.
Cam. Arrest him then before our eyes ; and see,
Our fury sleeps.
Duke. This honest officer
Blurt. Blurt, sir
Duke. Shall fetch him forth. — Go, sirrah, in our name
Attach the French lord.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 93
Blurt. Garlic, and the rest, follow strongly.
[Exit with Watch.
Duke. O what a scandal were it to a state,
To have a stranger, and a prisoner,
Murder'd by such a troop ! Besides, through Venice
Are numbers of his countrymen dispers'd, 51
Whose rage meeting with yours, none can prevent
The mischief of a bloody consequent.
Re-enter Blurt and Watch, holding Fontinelle and
his weapons.
Blurt. The duke is within an inch of your nose, and
therefore I dare play with it, if you put not up ; deliver,
I advise you.
Font. Yield up my weapons, and my foe so nigh !
Myself and weapons shall together yield :
Come any one, come all.
Omnes. Kill, kill the Frenchman ! kill him ! 60
Duke. Be satisfied, my noble countrymen :
I'll trust you with his life, so you will pawn
The faiths of gentlemen, no desperate hand
Shall rob him of it ; otherwise, he runs
Upon this dangerous point, that dares appose 1
His rage 'gainst our authority. — French lord,
Yield up this strength ; our word shall be your guard. '
Font. Who defies death, needs none ; he's well prepar'd.
Duke. My honest fellow, with a good defence,
Enter again ; fetch out the courtesan, 70
And all that are within.
i/ 1 Oppose.
94 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
Blurt, I'll tickle her: it shall ne'er be said that a
brownbill 1 looked pale. [Exit with Watch.
Cam. Frenchman, thou art indebted to our duke.
Font. For what ?
Cam. Thy life ; for, but for him, thy soul
Had long ere this hung trembling in the air,
Being frighted from thy bosom with our swords.
Font. I do not thank your duke ; yet, if you will,
Turn bloody executioners : who dies
For so bright beauty 's a bright sacrifice. 80
Duke. The beauty you adore so is profane ;
The breach of wedlock, by our law, is death.
Font. Law, give me law.
Duke. With all severity.
Font. In my love's eyes immortal joys do dwell ;
She is my heaven ; she from me, I'm in hell :
Therefore your law, your law.
Duke. Make way, she comes.
Re-enter Blurt leading Imperia, the rest of the Watch
with Violetta masqued.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie.
Blurt. Your fie, fie, fie, nor your foh, foh, foh, cannot
serve your turn ; you must now bear it off with head and
shoulders. go
Duke. Now fetch Curvetto and the Spaniard hither ;
Their punishments shall lie under one doom.
What is she masqu'd ?
«/ J See note 1, p. 17.
scene m.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 95
Blurt. A punk too. — Follow, fellows : Slubber, afore.
[Exit with Watch.
Viol. She that is masqu'd is leader of this masque.
What's here ? bows, bills, and guns ! Noble Camillo,
[ Unmasquing.
I'm sure you're l ord of th i s misrule : x I pray,
For whose sake do you make this swaggering fray ?
Cam. For yours, and for our 2 own ; we come resolv'd
To murder him that poisons your chaste bed, 100
To take revenge on you for your false heart ;
And, wanton dame, our wrath here must not sleep ;
Your sin being deep'st, your share shall be most deep.
Viol. With pardon of your grace, myself to you all,
At your own weapons, thus do answer all.
For paying away my heart, that was my own ;
Fight not to win that, in good troth, 'tis gone.
For my dearjove's abu_sing_my_ chaste bed,
And her 3 sweet theft, alack, you are misled !
This was a plot of mine, only to try no
Your love's strange temper ; sooth, I do not lie.
My Fontinelle ne'er dallied in her arms ;
She never bound his heart with amorous charms :
My Fontinelle ne'er loathed my sweet embrace ;
She never drew love's picture by his face :
When he from her white hand would strive to go,
She never cried, fie, fie, nor no, no, no.
■/ 1 Old ed. "I am sure you are lord of all this misrule." Lordof Mis-
rule was the title of the person who presided over the Christmas revels
in noblemen's houses.
2 Old ed. " your." 3 Imperia's.
g6 Blurt, Master-Constable. [act v.
With prayers and bribes we hired her, both to lie
Under that roof : for this must my love die ?
Who dare be so hard-hearted ? Look you, we kiss,
And if he loathe his Violet, 1 judge by this. 121
[Kissing him.
Font. Q sweetest Violet 1 1 blush
Viol. Good figure,
Wear still that maiden blush, but still be mine.
Font. I seal myself thine own with both my hands,
In this true deed of gift. Gallants, here stands
This lady's champion : at [t]his foot I'll lie_ 2
That dares touch her : who taints my constancy,
I am no man for him ; fight he with her,
And yield, for she's a noble conqueror.
Duke. This combat shall not need ; for see, ashamed
Of their rash vows, these gentlemen here break 131
This storm, and do with hands what tongues should speak.
Omnes. All friends, all friends !
Hip. Punk, you may laugh at this :
Here's tricks ! but, mouth, I'll stop you with a kiss.
Enter Curvetto and Lazarillo, led by Blurt and
the Watch.
Blurt. Room ; keep all the scabs back, for here comes
Lazarus.
Duke. O, here's our other spirits that walk i' th' night !
Signior Curvetto, by complaint from her,
And by your writing here, I reach the depth
1 Olded. "Violetta." ^ 2 Used transitively.
scene in.] Blurt, Master-Constable. 97
Of your offence. They charge your climbing up
To be to rob her : if so, then by law 141
You are to die, unless she marry you.
Imp. I ? fie, fie, fie, I will be burnt to ashes first.
Cur. How, die, or marry her ? then call me daw :
Marry her — she's more common than the law —
For boys to call me ox ? no, I'm not drunk ;
I'll play with her, but, hang her ! wed no punk.
I shall be a hoary courtier then indeed,
And have a perilous head ; then I were best
Lie close, lie close, to hide my forked crest 150
No, fie, fie, fie ; hang me before the door
Where I was drown' d, ere I marry with a whore.
Duke. Well, signior, for we rightly understand,
From your accusers, how you stood her guest,
We pardon you, and pass it as a jest :
And for the Spaniard sped so hardly too,
Discharge him, Blurt : signior, we pardon you.
Blurt. Sir, he's not to be discharged, nor so to be shot
off : I have put him into a new suit, and have entered into
him with an action ; he owes me two-and-thirty shillings.
Laz. It is thy honour to have me die in thy debt. 161
Blurt. It would be more honour to thee to pay me
before thou diest : twenty shillings of this debt came out
of his nose.
Laz. Bear witness, great duke, he's paid twenty shil-
lings.
Blurt. Signior, no, you cannot smoke me so. He took
twenty shillings of it in a fume, and the rest I charge him
with for his lying.
vol. 1. G
98 Blurt, Master- Constable. [act v.
Laz. My lying, most pitiful prince, was abominable.
Blurt. He did lie, for the time, as well as any knight
ofj he post. 1 did ever lie. 172
Laz. I do here put off thy suit, and appeal : I warn
thee to the court of conscience, and will pay thee by
twopence a-week, which I will rake out of the hot embers
of tobacco-ashes, and then travel on foot to the Indies
for more gold, whose red cheeks I will kiss, and beat thee,
Blurt, if thou watch for me.
Hip. There be many of your countrymen in Ireland, 2
signior ; travel to them. 180
Laz. No, I will fall no more into bogs.
Duke. Sirrah, his debt ourself will satisfy.
Blurt. Blurt, my lord, dare take your word for as much
more.
Duke. And since this heat of fury is all spent,
And tragic shapes meet comical event,
Let this bright morning merrily be crown'd
With dances, banquets, and choice music's sound.
\Extunt omnes.
1 " Knight of the post " was one who gained a living by giving false
evidence. Cf. The Man in the Moon, 1657 : — " How now, what art thou
whose head hangs down like a bulrush? O its a knight of the post, a
public and forsworn varlet. This fellow for 12 pence shall swear the
richest man in England out of his estate, and oaths goes down with
him as easy as a sow sucks a tub full of wash ; and hath as good an
appetite to forswear himself as a big-bellied woman longs for butter-
milk."
2 This clearly refers to the 6000 Spaniards under Don Juan d'Aguilar,
who landed in Ireland to support Tyrone's rebellion. They landed in
September 1601 ; fortified themselves at Kinsale ; and were obliged
to capitulate in June 1602.
THE PHCENIX.
The Phoenix, as it hath beene sundrye times Acted by the Children
of Patties, And presented before his Maieslie. London Printed by E.
A. for A. /., and are to be solde at the signe of the white horse in
Paules Churchyard. 1607. 4to.
A second edition — inaccurately printed — appeared in 1630. The
Phoenix was licensed by Sir George Buc, 9th May 1607.
DRAMATIS FERSON&.
Duke of Ferrara.
Phcenix, his son.
Proditor, )
Lussurioso, f nobles.
Infesto, )
Fidelio, son to Castiza,
Captain, married to Castiza.
Falso, a justice of peace.
Latronello, \
Fucato, > his servants.
Furtivo, 1 )
Knight.
Tangle.
Quieto.
Groom.
Constable.
Boy.
Drawer. '
Soldiers.
Suitors.
Nobles, Gentlemen, Officers, eVc.
Castiza, mother to Fidelio, and married to the
Captain.
Jeiveller's wife, daughter to FALSO.
Niece to Falso.
Maid to Jeweller 's wife.
SCENE, Ferrara.
1 He becomes Falso's servant at the death of Falso's brother. See i. 6.
THE PHCENIX.
ACT I.i
SCENE I,
A Chamber in the Palace of the Duke of Ferrara.
Enter the Duke, Proditor, Lussurioso, Infesto, and
other Nobles, with Attendants.
Duke. My lords,
Know that we, far from any natural pride,
Or touch of temporal sway, have seen our face
In our grave council's foreheads, where doth stand
Our truest glass, made by Time's wrinkled hand.
We know we're old ; my days proclaim me so ;
Fortyj^y£_^ffiar^Ji!3£e_gemtly rul'd this dukedom ;
Pra y heaven it be n o fault !
For therms as much disease, though not to th' eye,
In_too_m]^_£ky_asJxi Mtyranny. 10
Infes. Your grace hath spoke it right.
Duke. I know that life
Has not long course in me ; 'twill not be long
Before I show that kings have mortal bodies
1 In the old eds, there is no division into acts and scenes.
104 The Phoenix. [act i.
As well as subjects : therefore to my comfort,
And your successful hopes, I have a son,
Whom I dare boast of
Lus. Whom we all do boast of;
A prince elder in virtues than in years.
Infes. His judgment is a father to his youth.
Prod. Ay, ay, would he were from court ! [Aside.
Infes. Our largest hopes grow in him. 20
Prod. And 'tis the greatest pity, noble lord,
He is untravelPd.
Lus. "lis indeed, my lord.
Prod. Had he but travel to his time and virtue —
O, he should ne'er return again ! [Aside.
Duke. It shall be so : what is in hope began, 1
Experience quickens ; travel confirms the man,
Who 2 else lives doubtful, and his days oft sorry :
Who's rich in knowledge has the stock of glory. »
Prod. Most true, my royal lord.
Duke. Some one attend our son.
Infes. See, here he comes, my lord.
Enter Phcenix, attended by Fidelio.
Duke. O, you come well. 30
Phce. Tis always my desire, my worthy father.
Duke. Your serious studies, and those fruitful hours
That grow up into judgment, well become
Your birth, and all our loves : I weep that you are my son,
1 Old eds. "begun," — which destroys the rhyme.
2 Soed. 2.— Ed. 1. "Who's."
scene i.] The Phoenix. 105
But virtuously I weep, the more my gladness.
We have thought good and meet, by the consent
Of these our nobles, to move you toward travel,
The better to approve you to yourself,
And give your apter power foundation :
To see affections actually presented, 40
E'en by those men that owe 1 them, yield[s] more profit,
Ay, more content, than singly to read of them,
Since love or fear make writers partial.
The good and free example which you_fmd
In^ljei^ufflries, _ mlitcn~it with your own,
The ill to shame the ill ; which will in time
F ully insTr ucFyou hgwjo' s e t HLfra m e
A kingdom all_ jn__pieces.
Phce. Honour'd father,
With care and duty I have listen'd to you.
What you desire, in me it is obedience : 50
I do obey in all, knowing for right,
Ex perience is a kingdom 's better sight.
Prod. O, 'tis the very lustre of a prince,
Travel ! 'tis sweet and generous.
Duke. He that knows how to obey, knows how to
reign ;
And that true knowledge have we found in you.
Make choice of your attendants.
Phos. They're soon chose ;
Only this man, my lord, a loving servant of mine.
Duke. What ! none but he ?
•'J Own.
106 The Phoenix. [acti.
Phce. I do intreat no more ;
For that's the benefit a private gentleman 60
Enjoys beyond our state, when he notes all,
Himself unnoted.
For, should I bear the fashion of a prince,
I should then win more flattery than profit,
And I should give 'em time and warning then
To hide their actions from me : if I appear a sun,
They'll run into the shade with their ill deeds,
And so pr event x me.
Prod. A little too wise, 2 a little too wise to live
long. [Aside.
Duke. You have answer'd us with wisdom : let it be ;
Things private are best known through privacy. 71
[Exeunt all but Phcenix and Fidelio.
Phce. Stay you, my elected servant.
Fid. My kind lord.
Phce. The duke my father has a heavy burden
Of years upon him.
Fid. My lord, it seems so, for they make him stoop.
Phce. Without dissemblance he is deep in age ;
He bows unto his grave. I wonder much
Which of his wild nobility it should be
(For none of his sad 3 council has a voice in't),
Should so far travel into his consent, 80
1 Anticipate.
. * "So Shakespeare :
'So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er live long.'
— Richard III., act iii. sc. xS'—Dycc.
1 Grave.
scene i.] The Phoenix. 107
To set me over into other kingdoms,
Upon the stroke and minute of his death ?
Fid. My lord, 'tis easier to suspect them all,
Than truly to name one.
Phoi. Since it is thus,
By absence I'll obey the duke my father,
And yet not wrong myself.
Fid. Therein, my lord,
You might be happy twice.
Phce. So it shall be ;
I'll stay at home, and travel.
Fid. Would your grace
Could make that good ! 89
Phoe. I can : and, indeed, a prince need no[t] travel
farther than his own kingdom, if he apply himself faith-
fully, worthy the glory of himself and expectation of others:
and it would appear far nobler industry in him to reform
those fashions that are already in his country, than to
bring new ones in, which have neither true form nor
fashion ; to make his court an owl, city an ape, and the
country a wolf preying upon the ridiculous pride of either :
and therefore I hold it a safer stern, 1 upon this lucky
advantage, since my.jat3i£iJsjiear.iiis_setting, and I upon
the eastern hill to take my rise , to look into the heart
and bowels of this dukedomjjmdjin'disguise, mark all
abus es iej dyjor reformation or punishment. 102
^ZFidTGrve me but leave unfeignedly to admire you,
Your wisdom is so spacious and so honest.
1 " *. e. (I suppose) a safer course to steer. Stern is used by our early
writers in the sense of steerage, helm. " — Dyce.
108 The Phoenix. [acti.
Phce. So much have the complaints and suits of men,
seven, nay, seventeen years neglected, still interposed by
coin and great enemies, prevailed with my pity, that I
cannot otherwise think but there are infectio us deahn gg
in most offices, and foul mysteries throughout ^U^Drofes;
sions: and therefore I nothing doubt but to find travel
enough within myself, and experience, I fear, too much :
nor will I be c urious x to fit my body to the humblest
form and bearing, so the labour may be fruitful ; for how
can abuses that keep low, come to the right view of a
prince, unless his looks lie level with them, which else
will be longest hid from him ? — he shall be the last man
sees 'em. U y
For oft be tween king s' eyes and subjects' crimes
StandsThere a bar_of bribes, : the.iuidei^imc.e
Flatters him next above.it, helhe-next,
AndjiO of most, or many.
E very abuse will choose a bro thex,;
'Tis through the world, this hand will rub the other.
Fid. You have set down the worTd™briefly, my lord.
Phm. But how am I assur'd of faith in thee ?
Yet l^durst^ trust thee. "" '"
Fid. Let my soul be lost,
When it shall loose your secrets : nor .will I
Only be a preserver of them, but,
If you so please, an assister.
Phx. It suffices :
That king stands sur'st Who by his virtue rises 130
y/^ J i.e. nor will I scruple.
scene i.] The Phoenix. 109
More than by birth or blood ; that prince is rare,
Who strives in youth to save his age from care.
Let's be prepar'd : away.
Fid. I'll follow your grace. — [Exit Phosnix.
Thou wonder of all princes, president, and glory,
True Phoenix, made of an unusual strai n! 1
Who Labours to reform is fit to reign.
How can that king be safe that studies not
The profit of his people ? See where comes
The best part of my heart, my love. 140
Enter Niece. 2
Niece. Sir, I am bound to find you : I heard newly
Of sudden travel which his grace intends,
And only but yourself to accompany him.
Fid. You heard in that little beside the truth ;
Yet not so sudden as to want those manners,
To leave you unregarded.
Niece. I did not think so unfashionably of you.
How long is your return ?
Fid. Tis not yet come to me, scarce to my lord,
Unless the duke refer it to his pleasure ; 150
But long I think it is not : the duke's age,
If not his apt experience, will forbid it.
Niece. His grace commands, I must not think amiss :
Farewell.
Fid. Nay, stay, and take this comfort ;
y J Inborn disposition.
, 3 Justice Falso's niece. Her name nowhere appears.
1 1 o The Phcenix. [act i.
You shall hear often from us ; I'll direct
Where you shall surely know ; and I desire you
Write me the truth, how my new father-in-law
The captain bears himself towards my mother;
For that marriage
Knew nothing of my mind, it never flourish'd 160
In any part of my affection.
Niece. Methinks sh'as much disgrac'd herself.
Fid. Nothing so,
If he be good, and will abide the touch ;
A captain may marry a lady, if he can sail
Into her good will.
Niece. Indeed that's all.
Fid. Tisall
In all ; commend me to thy breast ; farewell.
[Exit Niece.
So by my lord's firm policy we may see,
To present view, what absent forms would be. [Exit.
SCENE II.
A Room in the Captain's House.
Enter the Captain with soldiering fellows.
First Sol. There's noble purchase, 1 captain.
Second Sol. Nay, admirable purchase.
Third Sol. Enough to make us proud for ever.
Cap. Hah?
S y Plunder.
scene ii.] The Phcenix. 1 1 1
First Sol. Never was opportunity so gallant.
Cap. Why, you make me mad.
Second Sol. Three ships, not a poop less.
Third Sol. And every one so wealthily burdened, upon
my manhood.
Cap. Pox on't, and now am I tied e'en as the devil
would ha't. ii
First Sol. Captain, of all men living, I would ha' sworn
thou wouldst ne'er have married.
Cap. 'S foot, so would I myself, man; give me my
due ; you know I ha' sworn all heaven over and over ?
First Sol. That you have, i'faith.
Cap. Why, go to then.
First Sol. Of a man that has tasted salt water to com-
mit such a fresh trick !
Cap. Why, 'tis abominable ! I grant you, now I see't.
First Sol. Had there been fewer women 21
Second Sol. And among those women fewer drabs
Third Sol. And among those drabs fewer pleasing
Cap. Then 't had been something
First Sol. But when there are more women, more
common, pretty sweethearts, than ever any age could
boast of
Cap. And I to play the artificer and marry ! to have
my wife dance at home, and my ship at sea, and both
take in salt water together ! O lieutenant, thou'rt happy !
thou keepest a wench. 31
First Sol. I hope I am happier than so, captain, for
a' my troth, she keeps me.
Cap. How ? is there any such fortunate man breath-
1 1 2 The Phoenix. [act i.
ing ? and I so miserable to live honest ! I envy thee,
lieutenant, I envy thee, that thou art such a happy knave.
Here's my hand among you ; share it equally ; I'll to
sea with you.
Second Sol. There spoke a noble captain !
Cap. Let's hear from you ; there will be news
shortly. 41
First Sol. Doubt it not, captain.
[Exeunt all but Captain.
Cap. What lustful passion came aboard of me, that I
should marry ? was I drunk ? yet that cannot altogether
hold, for it was four a'clock i' th' morning ; had it been
five, I would ha' sworn it. That a man is in danger every
minute to be cast away, without he have an extraordinary
pilot that can perform more than a man can do ! and to
say truth too, when I'm abroad, what can I do at home ?
no man living can reach so far : and what a horrible thing
'twould be to have horns brought me at sea, to look as
if the devil were i' th' ship ! and all the great tempests
would be thought of my raising ! to be the general curse
of all merchants ! and yet they likely are as deep in as
myself; and that's a comfort. O, that a captain should
live to be married ! nay, I that have been such a gallant
salt-thief, should yet live to be married ! What a fortu-
nate elder brother is he, whose father being a rammish
ploughman, himself a perfumed gentleman spending the
labouring reek from his father's nostrils in tobacco, the
sweat of his father's body in monthly physic for his pretty
queasy harlot ! he sows apace i' th' country ; the tailor
o'ertakes him i' th' city, so that oftentimes before the corn
scene ii.] The Phoenix. 1 1 3
comes to earing , 1 'tis up to the ears in high collars, and
so at every harvest the reapers take pains for the mercers :
ha ! why, this is stirring happiness indeed. Would my
father had held a plough so, and fed upon squeezed curds
and onions, that I might have bathed in sensuality ! but
he was too ruttish himself to let me thrive under him ;
consumed me before he got me ; and that makes me so
wretched now to be shackled with a wife, and not greatly
rich neither. 72
Enter Castiza. 2 ff -> „ , CL. , . —-.,.
Cas. Captain, my husband.
Cap. 'S life, call me husband again, and I'll play the
captain and beat you.
Cas. What has disturb'd you, sir, that you now look
So like an enemy upon me ?
Cap. Go make a widower [of me], hang thyself !
How comes it that you are so opposite
To love and kindness ? I deserve more respect, 80
But that you please to be forgetful of it.
Cas. For love to you, did I neglect my state,
Chide better fortunes from me,
Gave the world talk, laid all my friends at waste !
Cap. The more fool you : could you like none but me ?
Could none but I supply you ? I am sure
You were sued to by far worthier men,
Deeper in wealth and gentry.
1 So ed. 2. — Ed. i "earning."
S 2 Old eds. " his Lady."
VOL, I. H
1 1 4 The Phcenix. [act i.
What couldst thou see in me, to make thee doat
So on me ? If I know I am a villain, 90
What a torment's this ! Why didst thou marry me ?
You think, as most of your insatiate widows,
That captains can do wonders ; when, alas , 1
The name does often prove the better man !
Cas. That which you urge should rather give me cause
To repent than yourself.
Cap. Then to that end
I do it.
Cas. What a miserable state
Am I led into !
Enter Servant. 2
Cap. How now, 'sir?
Serp. Count Proditor
Is now alighted.
Cap. What ! my lord ? I must
Make much of him ; he'll one day write me cuckold ; 100
It is good to make much of such a man :
E'en to my face he plies it hard, — I thank him.
Enter Proditor.
What, my worthy lord ?
1 Prod. I'll come to you
In order, captain. \ [Kisses Castiza.
Cap. O that's in order !
A kiss is the gamut to pricksong. [Aside.
y 1 Oldeds. '"lasse." /" 2 Old eds. "seruus,"
scene ii.] The Phoenix. 115
Prod. Let me salute you, captain. [Exit Castiza.
Cap. My dear
Esteemed count, I have a life for you.
Prod. Hear you the news ?
Cap. What may it be, my lord ?
Prod. My lord, the duke's son, is upon his travel
To several kingdoms.
Cap. 1 May it be possible, my lord, no
And yet so little rumour'd ?
Prod. Take't of m y truth ;
Nav. 'twa s w elLman ag'dT things are as they are handed- :
But all my care is still, pray heaven he return
Safe, wi thout danger^captain.
Cap. Why, is there any doubt
To be had of that, my lord ?
Prod. Ay, by my faith, captain :
Princes have private enemies, and great.
Put case a man should grudge him for his virtues,
Or envy him for his wisdom ; why, you know,
This makes him lie bare-breasted to his foe. 120
Cap. That's full of certainty, my lord ; but who
Be his attendants ?
Prod. Thence, captain, comes the fear ;
But singly 2 attended neither (my best gladness),
Only by your son-in-law, Fidelio.
1 Perhaps a better metrical arrangement would be —
" Cap. May it be possible, my lord, and yet
So little rumour'd ?
Prod. Take it of my truth. "
/ s Ed. 2, "simplie."
1 1 6 The Phoenix. [act i.
Cap. Is it to be believed ? I promise you, my lord,
then I begin to fear him myself; that fellow will undo
him : I durst undertake to corrupt him with twelvepence
over and above, and that's a small matter ; has a whorish
conscience; he's an i nseparable k nave, 1 and I could
ne'er speak well of that fellow. 130
Prod. All we of the younger house, I can tell you, do
doubt him much. The lady's removed : shall we have
your sweet society, captain ?
Cap. Though it be in mine own house, I desire I may
follow your lordship.
Prod. I love to avoid strife. —
Not many months Phcenix shall keep his life.
[Aside and exit.
Cap. So ; his way is in ; he knows it.
We must not be uncourteous to a lord ;
Warn him our house 'twere vild. 2 140
His presence is an honour : if he lie with our wives, 'tis
for our credit ; we shall be the better trusted ; 'tis a sign
we shall live i' th' world. O, tempests and whirlwinds !
who but that man whom the forefinger 3 cannot daunt,
that makes his shame his living — who but that man, I
say, could endure to be thoroughly married ? Nothing
but a divorce can relieve me : any way to be rid of her
would rid my torment ; if all means fail, I'll kill or poison
her, and purge my fault at sea. But first I'll make gentle
/ / 1 One whose knavery cannot be put away from him, an irredeemable
rogue.
v •/ 3 Old spelling of " vile."
„• 3 The forefinger pointed at him in scorn.
scene in.] The Phcenix. 1 1 7
try of a divorce: but how shall I accuse her subtle
honesty ? I'll attach this lord's coming to her, take hold
of that, ask counsel : and now I remember, I have
acquaintance with an old crafty client, who, by the
puzzle of suits and shifting of courts, has more tricks
and starting-holes than the dizzy pates of fifteen attor-
neys ; one that has been muzzled in law like a bear, and
led by the ring of his spectacles from office to office. 157
Him I'll seek out with haste ; all paths I'll tread,
All deaths I'll die, ere I die married. [Exit.
SCENE III.
Another Room in the Captain's House.
Enter Proditor and Castiza.
Prod. Pooh, you do resist me hardly.
Cas. I beseech your lordship, cease in this : 'tis never
to be granted. If you come as a friend unto my honour,
and my husband, you shall be ever welcome ; if not, I
must entreat it
Prod. Why, assure yourself, madam, 'tis not the fashion.
Cas. 'Tis more my grief, my lord ; such as myself
Are judg'd the worse for such.
Prod. Faith, you're too nice :
You'll see me kindly forth ?
Cas. And honourably welcome. [Exeunt.
1 1 8 The Phcenix. [act i
SCENE IV.
A Room in an Inn.
Enter Groom lighting in Phcenix and Fidelio.
Groom. Gentlemen, your most neatly welcome.
Phce. You're very cleanly, sir : prithee, have a care t<
our geldings.
Groom. Your geldings shall be well considered.
Fid. Considered ?
Phos. Sirrah, what guess 1 does this inn hold now ?
Groom. Some five and twenty gentlemen, besides thei:
beasts.
Phce. Their beasts ?
Groom. Their wenches, I mean, sir; for your worshij
knows those that are under men are beasts. i
Phce. How does your mother, sir ?
Groom. Very well in health, I thank you heartily, sir.
Phce. And so is my mare, i'faith.
Groom. I'll do her commendations indeed, sir.
Fid. Well kept up, shuttlecock !
Phce. But what old fellow was he that newly alightec
before us ?
Groom. Who, he? as arrant a crafty fellow as e'ei
made water on horseback. Some say, he's as good as i
lawyer ; marry, I'm sure he's as bad as a knave : if yoi
have any suits in law, he's the fittest man for your com
pany ; has been so toused 2 and lugged himself, that he i:
' 1 Guests.
/ 2 Pulled violently about. Old eds. " toward ;" Dyce " towed. "
scene iv. ] The Phoenix. 1 1 9
able to afford you more knavish counsel for ten groats
than another for ten shillings. 25
Phce. A fine fellow ! but do you know him to be a
knave, and will lodge him ?
Groom. Your worship begins to talk idly ; your bed
shall be made presently : if we should not lodge knaves,
I wonder how we should be able to live honestly : are
there honest men enough, think you, in a term-time to
fill all the inns in the town ? and, as far as I can see, a
knave's gelding eats no more hay than an honest man's ;
nay, a x thief's gelding eats less, I'll stand to't \ his master
allows him a better ordinary ; yet I have my eightpence
day and night : 'twere more for our profit, I wus, 2 you
were all thieves, if you were so contented. I shall be
called for : give your worships good morrow. [Exit. 38
Phce. A royal knave, i'faith : we have happened into a
godly inn.
Fid. Assure you, my lord, they belong all to one church.
I Phce. This should be some old, busy, turbulent fellow :
[a] villanous law-worm, that eats holes- ':; 1^ pi,ci iw is
causes.
Entet Tangle with two Suitors, and Groom.
First Suit. May it please your worship to give me leave ?
Tan. I give you leave, sir ; you have your veniam.
—Now fill me a brown toast, sirrah.
Groom. Will you have no drink to't, sir ?
1 So ed. 2. — Omitted in ed. I.
f 2 A vulgar form of " I wis " (the reading of ed. 2), which is a corrup-
tion of "i-wis," i.e. "certainly, assuredly."
1 20 The Phmnix. [act i.
Tan. Is that a question in law ?
Groom. Yes, in the lowest court, i' th' cellar, sir. 5°
Tan. Let me ha't removed presently, sir.
Groom. It shall be done, sir, [Exit.
Tan. Now as you were saying, sir, — I'll come to you
immediately too.
Pfue. O, very well, sir.
Tan. I'm a little busy, sir.
First Suit. But as how, sir ?
Tan. I pray, sir?
First Suit. Has brought me into the court ; marry, my
adversary has not declared yet. 60
Tan. Non dedaravit adversarius, sayest thou ? what a
villain's that ! I have a trick to do thee good : I will get
thee out a proxy, and make him declare, with a pox to him.
First Suit. That will make him declare to his sore
grief; I thank your good worship : but put case he do
declare ?
Tan. Si dedarasset, if he should declare there —
I^tnt- Siuc. I Vv'ould be loath to stand out to the judg-
ment of that court.
Tan. Non ad judidum, do you fear corruption ? then
I'll relieve you again ; you shall get a supersedeas non
molestandum, and remove it higher. 7 2
First Suit. Very good.
Tan. Now if it should ever come to a testificandum,
what be his witnesses ?
First Suit. I little fear his witnesses.
Tan. Non metuis testes? more valiant man than Orestes.
First Suit. Please you, sir, to dissolve this into wine,
scene iv.] The P/iosnix. 1 2 1
ale, or beer. [Giving money.} I come a hundred mile
to you, I protest, and leave all other counsel behind me.
Tan. Nay, you shall always find me a sound card : I
stood not a' th' pillory for nothing in 88 ; all the world
knows that. — Now let me dispatch you, sir. — I come to
you presenter. 84
Second Suit. Faith, the party hath removed both body
and cause with a habeas corpus.
Tan. Has he that knavery? but has he put in bail
above, canst tell?
Second Suit. That I can assure your worship he has
not. 90
Tan. Why, then, thy best course shall be, to lay out
more money, take out a procedendo, and bring down the
cause and him with a vengeance.
Second Suit. Then he will come indeed.
Tan. As for the other party, let the audita querela
alone ; take me out a special supplicavit, which will cost
you enough, and then you pepper him. For the first
party after the procedendo you'll get costs ; the cause being
found, you'll have a judgment ; nunc pro tunc, you'll get
a venire facias to warn your jury, a decern tales to fill up
the number, and a capias utlagatum x for your execution.
Second Suit; I thank you, my learned counsel. 102
Phx. What a busy caterpillar's this ! let's accost him
in that manner.
Fid. Content, my lord.
Phx. O my old admirable fellow, how have I all this
• 1 Writ of outlawry.
1 2 2 The Phoznix. [act i.
while thirsted to salute thee ! I knew thee in octavo of
the duke
Tan. In octavo of the duke ? I remember the year well.
Phce, By th' mass, a lusty, proper 1 man ! "°
Tan. 0, was I ?
./%«?. But still in law.
Tan. Still in law ? I had not breatheddsjLflojs-f-Itis
veryjnajrow\ k y<2rjnr^ --been
djM-S£LJiis_els£^lIJajSQund -Such_s_w«*jDlejUiupJn
thp ypxatinn-of^jthers, that I could wish my years over
knave a gentleman, a matter brought?eirToT"judgraent
to-dayTasTafas "e'er 'twas to begin agai h Torn orro w : O
rapturesTKere^a writ'of demur^lFere a ~'§rScedenvbr, here
a sursurrara, 2 there a capiendo, tricks, delays, money-laws !
/%«;. Is it possible, old lad ? 122
7a%. I have been a t erm-trotter 3 myself any time this
five and forty years ; a goodly time and a gracious : in
which space I ha' been at least sixteen times beggared,
and got up again ; and in the mire again, that I have
stunk again, and yet got up again.
Phm. And so clean and handsome now ?
Tan. You see it apparently; I cannot hide it from
you : nay, more, mfelici hora be it spoken, you see I'm
old, yet have I at this present nine and twenty suits in law.
Phx. Deliver us, man ! 132
/ x Handsome.
/ 2 A corruption of "certiorari." Cyril Tourneur uses the form
"sasarara" in the Revenger's Tragedy, iv. i.
/ 3 One who frequented the capital in term-time.
scene iv.] The Phoenix. 123
Tan. Arid all not worth forty shillings.'
Phce. May it be believed ?
Tan. The pleasure of a man is all.
Phoe. An old fellow, and such a stinger !
Tan. A stake pulled out of my hedge, there's one ;
I was well beaten, I remember, that's two ; I took one
a-bed with my wife again 1 her will, that's three ; I was
called cuckold for my labour, that's four ; I took another
a-bed again, that's five ; then one called me wittol, 2 that's
six ; he killed my dog for barking, seven ; my maid-
servant was knocked at that time, eight; my wife mis-
carried with a push, nine ; et sic de cateris. I have so
vexed and beggared the whole parish with process,
subpoenas, and such-like molestations, they are not able
to spare so much ready money from a term, as would set
up a new weathercock ; the churchwardens are fain to go
to law with the poors' money. 149
Phce. Fie, fie !
Tan. And I so fetch up all the men every term-time,
that 'tis impossible to be at civil cuckoldry within our-
selves, unless the whole country rise upon our wives.
Fid. A' my faith, a pretty policy !
Phce. Nay, an excellent stratagem : but of all I most
wonder at the continual substance of thy wit, that,
having had so many suits in law from time to time, thou
hast still money to relieve 'em.
Fid. Has the best fortune for that ; I never knew him
without. 160
/ x Against.
y 2 A contented cuckold.
,124 The Phoznix. [acti.
Tan. Why do you so much wonder at that ? Why,
this is my course : my mare and I come up some five
days before a term.
Phce. A good decorum !
Tan. Here I lodge, as you see, amongst inns and
places of most receipt
Phos. Very wittily.
Tan. By which advantage I dive into countrymen's
causes ; furnish 'em with knavish counsel, little to their
profit ; buzzing into their ears this course, that writ, this
office, that ultimum refugium ;' as you know I have words
enow for the purpose. i7 2
Phos. Enow a' conscience, i'faith.
,^ ^tz. Enow ^aJJaw, noinatter for conscience . For
'which busy and laborious sweating courtesy, they can-
not choose but feed me with money, by which I maintain
mine own suits : hoh, hoh, hoh !
Tan. Another special trick I have, nobody must know
it, which is, to prefer most of those men to one attorney,
whom I affect best : to answer which kindness of mine,
he will sweat the better in my cause, and do them the
less good : take 't of my word, I helped my attorney to
more clients the last term than he will despatch all his
lifetime ; I did it. 185
Ph 210
Tan. Non vacat exiguis rebus adesse Jovi. 2
well by quarrels of appointment as by chance. . . . And although they
made great- show of much fury and fought often, yet seldom any man
hurt, for thrusting was not then in use ; neither would one of twenty
strike beneath the waist, by reason they held it cowardly and beastly.
But the ensuing deadly fight of rapier and dagger suddenly suppressed
the fighting with sworld and buckler."
■/ 1 " A wretched pun — Rhenish." — Dyce. Wretched indeed.
2 Ovid, Trist. ii. 216.
VOL. I. L
1 62 The Phoenix. [actii.
Fal. Then Jove will not be at leisure to scour him,
because he ne'er came to him before.
Tan. You're excellent at it, sir: and now you least
think on't, I arrest you, sir.
Fal. Very good, sir.
Tan. Nay, very bad, sir, by my faith: I follow you
still, as the officers will follow you, as long as you have a
penny.
Fal. You speak sentences, sir : by this time have I
tried my friends, and now I thrust in bail. 221
Tan. This bail will not be taken, sir ; they must be
two citizens that are no cuckolds.
Fal. Eyrlady , 1 then I'm like to lie by it ; I had rather
'twere a hundred that were.
Tan. Take heed I bring you not to a nisi prius, sir.
Fal. I must ward myself as well as I may, sir.
Tan. 'Tis court-day now; declarat atturnatus, my
attorney gapes for money.
Fal. You shall have no advantage yet ; I put in my
answer. 231
Tan. 2 I follow the suit still, 1 sir.
Fal. I like not this court, byrlady ; I take me out a
writ of remove ; a writ of remove, do you see, sir ?
Tan. Very well, sir.
Fal. And place my cause higher.
Tan. There you started me, sir : yet for all your
demurs, pluries, and s ursurraras? which are all Long-
/'A common contraction of " By our Lady."
2 Soed. 2.— Ed. 1 " Fats"
v* See note 2, p. 122.
scene in.] The Phcenix. 163
swords, 1 that's delays, all the comfort is, in nine years
a man may overthrow you. 240
Fal. You must thank your good friends then, sir.
Tan. Let nine years pass, five hundred crowns cast
away a' both sides, and the suit not twenty, my coun-
sellor's wife must have another hood, you know, and my
attorney's wife will have a new forepart ; yet see at length
law, I shall have law: now, beware, I bring you to a
narrow exigent, and by no means can you avoid the pro-
clamation.
Fal. O!
Tan. Now follows a writ of execution ; a capias utla-
gatum gives you a wound mortal, trips up your heels, and
lays you i' th' counter. [Overthrows him.
Fal. O villain ! 253
Tan. I cry your worship heartily mercy, sir ; I thought
we had been in law together, adversarius contra adver-
sarium, by my troth.
Fal. O, reach me thy hand ! I ne'er had such an
overthrow in my life.
Tan. 'Twas 'long of your attorney there ; he might a'
stayed the execution of capias uilagatum, and removed
you, with a supersedeas non molestandum, into the court of
equity. 262
Fal. Pox on him, he fell out of my hand when I had
most need of him.
Tan. I was bound to follow the suit, sir.
1 So ed. 2. — Ed. i " Longsword."
164 The Phcenix. [act n.
Fal. Thou couldst do no less than overthrow me, I
must needs say so.
Tan. You had recovered cost else, sir.
Fal. And now, by th' 1 mass, I think I shall hardly
recover without cost. 2 7°
Tan. Nay, that's certo scio ; an execution is very charge-
able.
Fal. Well, it shall teach me wit as long as I am a
justice. I perceive by this trial, if a man have a sound
fall in law, he'll feel it in his bones all his life after.
Tan. Nay, that's recto upon record ; for I myself was
overthrown in 88 by a tailor, and I have had a stitch
in my side ever since, — O ! [Exeunt. 2
1 So ed. 2.— Ed. 1 " by th' the."
2 In the old eds. follows a further stage-direction: — " Towards the
close of the muszck" [played between the acts] " the Justices three men
prepare for a robberie." Stage-directions of this kind show that the
piece was printed from a play-house transcript.
( 165 )
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Hall in Falso's House.
Enter Falso untrussed.
Fal. Why, Latronello ! Furtivo ! Fucato ! Where be
these lazy knaves that should truss me? 1 not one stirring
yet?
[A Cry within.\ Follow, follow, follow !
Fal. What news there ?
[A Cry within.~\ This way, this way; follow, follow!
Fal. Hark, you sluggish soporiferous villains ! there's
knaves abroad when you are a-bed : are ye not ashamed
on't ? a justice's men should be up first, and give example
to 2 all knaves. i°
Enter Latronello and Fucato, tumbling in, in false
beards.
Lat. O, I beseech your good worship !
Fuc. Your worshipful worship !
1 Tie the points that joined the breeches to the doublet.
2 So ed. 2. — Not in ed. i.
1 66 The Phoenix. [actih.
Fal. Thieves ! my two-hand sword ! I'm robbed i' th'
hall. Latronello, knaves, come down ! my two-hand
sword, I say !
Lat. I am Latronello, I beseech your worship.
Fal. Thou Latronello ? thou liest ; my men scorn to
have beards.
Lat. We forget our beards. {They take off their false
beards.] — Now, I beseech your worship quickly remem-
ber us. 21
Fal. How now ?
Fuc. Nay, there's no time to talk of how now ; 'tis
done.
[A Cry within.] Follow, follow, follow !
' Lat. Four mark and a livery is not able to keep life
and soul together : we must fly out once a quarter ; 'tis
for your worship's credit to have money in our purse.
Our fellow Furtivo is taken in the action.
Fal. A pox on him for a lazy knave ! would he be
taken? 31
Fuc. They bring him along to your worship; you're
the next justice. Now or never show yourself a good
master, an upright magistrate, and deliver him out of
their hands.
Fal. Nay, he shall find me — apt enough to do him
good, I warrant him.
Lat. He comes in a false beard, sir.
Fal. 'S foot, what should he do here else ? there's no
coming to me in a true one, if he had one. The slave to be
taken ! do not I keep geldings swift enough ? 4 1
scene i.] The Pkcenix. 167
Lat. The goodliest geldings of any gentleman in the
shire.
Fal. Which did the whorson knave ride upon ?
Lat. Upon one of your best, sir.
Fuc. Stand-and-deliver.
Fal. Upon Stand-and-deliver? the very gelding I
choose for mine own riding ; as nimble as Pegasus the
flying horse yonder. Go shift yourselves into your coats ;
bring hither a great chair and a little table. 5°
Fuc. With all present speed, sir.
Fal. And, Latronello
Lat. Ay, sir.
Fal. Sit you down, and "very soberly take the examina-
tion.
Lat. I'll draw a few horse-heads in a paper ; make a
show. I hope I shall keep my countenance. 57
{Exeunt Latronello and Fucato.
Fal. Pox on him again ! would he be taken ? he frets
me. I have been a youth myself: I ha' seen the day I
could have told money out of other men's purses, — mass,
so I can do now, — nor will I keep that fellow about me
that dares not bid a man stand ; for as long as drunken-
ness is a vice, stand is a virtue : but I would not have
'em taken. I remember now betimes in a morning, I
would have peeped through the green boughs, and have
had the party presently, and then to ride away finely in
fear : 'twas e'en venery to me, i'faith, the pleasantest
course of life ! one would think every woodcock a con-
stable, and every owl an officer. But those days are
past with me ; and, a' my troth, I think I am a greater
1 68 The Phcenix. [act hi.
t hief now , and inno danger. I can take my ease, sit in
my chair, look in your faces now, and rob you ; make
you bring your money by authority, put off your hat, and
thank me for robbing of you. O, there is nothing to a
thief under covert barn ! 1 75
Enter Phcenix and Fidelio ; Constable and Officers with
Furtivo; and Latronello and Fucato bringing
in a chair and table.
Con. Come, officers, bring him away.
Fal. Nay, I see thee through thy false beard, thou
midwind-chined rascal. [Aside.] — How now, my masters,
what's he ? ha ?
Con. Your worship knows I never come but I bring a
thief with me. 81
Fal. Thou hast left thy wont else, constable.
Phce. Sir, we understand you to be the only upright-
ness of this place. ■
Fal. But I scarce understand you, sir.
Phce. Why, then, you understand not yourself, sir.
Fal. Such another word, and you shall change places
with the thief.
Phx. A maintainer of equal causes, I mean.
Fal. Now I have you ; proceed, sir. 9°
Phx. This gentleman and myself, being led hither by
1 A corruption of covert iaron. — " Coverture is particularly applied
in our common law to the estate and condition of a married woman,
who by the laws of our realm is in fotestate viri, and therefore disabled
to contract with any to the prejudice of herself or her husband without
his consent and privity, or at the least without his allowance and con-
firmation. " — Cowell's Interpreter.
sce ne i.] The Phoznix. 169
occasion of business, have been offered the discourtesy
of the country, set upon by three thieves, and robbed.
Fal. What are become of the other two ? — Latronello. 1
Lat. Here, sir.
Phos. They both made away from us; the cry pursues
'em, but as yet none but this taken.
Fal. Latronello.
Lat. Sir?
Fal. Take his examination. 100
Lat. Yes, sir.
Fal. Let the knave stand single.
Fur. Thank your good worship.
Fal. Has been a suitor at court, sure ; he thanks me
for nothing.
Phos. He's a thief now, sure.
Fal. That we must know of him. — What are ye,
sir? ,
Fur. A piece next to the tail, sir, a servingman.
Fal. By my troth, a pretty phrase, and very cleanly
handled ! Put it down, Latronello ; thou mayst make
use on't. — Is he of honour or worship whom thou
servest? 113
Fur. Of both, dear sir; honourable in mindy and
worshipful in body.
sdsh a man to^speaiflDetteT? -■■«-
kjjest that do
Fal. Say you so, sir? then we'll try him farther. -
1 Old ed. " Latronello and Fuca. ''
1 70 The Phoenix. [act hi.
Does your right worshipful master go before you as an
ensample of vice, and so encourage you to this sli nking 1
iniquity ? He is not a lawyer, is he ? 122
Fur. Has the more wrong, sir ; both for his conscience
and honesty he deserves to be one.
Fal. Pity he's a thief, i' faith ; I should entertain him
else.
Phoz. Ay, if he were not as he is, he would be better
than himself.
Fur. No, 'tis well known, sir, I have a master the very
picture of wisdom 130
Lat. For indeed he speaks not one wise word. [Aside.
Fur. And no man but will admire to hear of his
virtues
Lat. Because he ne'er had any in all his life. [Aside.
Fa/. You write all down, Latronello ?
Lat. I warrant you, sir.
Fur. So sober, so discreet, so judicious
Fal. Hum.
Fur. And above all, of most reverend gravity.
Fal. I like him for one quality ; he speaks well of his
master ; he will fare the better. — Now, sir, let me touch
you. 142
Fur. Ay, sir.
Fal. Why, serving a gentleman of such worship and
wisdom, such sobriety and virtue, such discretion and
judgment, as your master is, do you take such a beastly
course, to stop horses, hinder gentlewomen from their
V 1 Ed. 2 "stinking."
scene i.] The Phoenix. 171
meetings, and make citizens never ride but a 1 Sundays,
only to avoid morning prayer and you ? Is it because
your worshipful master feeds you with lean spits, pays
you with Irish money, or clothes you in n orthern
dozens? 1 1S 2
Fur. Far be it from his mind, or my report. Tis
well known he kept worshipful cheer the day of his
wife's burial; pays our four marks a-year as duly by
twelve pence a-quarter as can be
Pfice. His wisdom swallows it. [Aside.
Fur. And for northern dozens — fie, fie, we were ne'er
troubled with so many.
Fal. Receiving then such plenteous blessings from
your virtuous and bountiful master, what cause have you
to be thief now ? answer me to that gear. 2 162
Fur. 'Tis e'en as a man gives his mind to't, sir.
Fal. How, sir?
Fur. For, alas, if the whole world were but of one
trade, traffic were nothing ! if we were all true 3 men, we
/■ 1 " In The Sates of the Custome House, &c, 1582, among the cloths
enumerated we find
' Kerseyes of all sorts
Northen dosens
Bridge Waters ' &c. &c.
Sig. G 2.
" Strutt cites the following act : ' Every Northern cloth shall be seven
quarters of a yard in width, from twenty-three to twenty-five yards in
length, and weigh sixty-six pounds each piece ; the half piece of each
cloth, called dozens, shall run from twelve to thirteen yards in length,
the breadth being the same, and shall weigh thirty-six pounds. ' — Dress
and Hatits, &c, vol. ii. p. 197." — Dyce.
f 2 Business. / 3 Honest.
172 The Phoenix. [actih.
should be of no trade : what a pitiful world would here
be ! heaven forbid we should be all true men ! Then
how should your worship's next suit be made? not a
tailor left in the land : of what stuff would you have it
made ? not a merchant left to deliver it : would your
worship go in that suit still ? You would ha' more thieves
about you than those you have banished, and be glad
to call the great ones home again, to destroy the little.
Phtz. A notable rogue ! J75
Fal. A' my troth, a fine knave, and has answered me
gloriously. — What wages wilt thou take after thou art
hanged ?
Fur. More than your worship's able to give : I would
think foul scorn to be a justice then. 180
Fal. He says true too, i'faith ; for we are all full of
corruption here. [Aside.] — Hark you, my friends.
Phce. Sir?
Fal. By my troth, if you were no crueller than I, I
could find in my heart to let him go.
Fhx. Could you so, sir ? the more pitiful justice you.
Fal. Nay, I did but to try you ; if you have no pity,
I'll ha' none. — Away ! he's a thief; to prison with him !
Fur. I am content, sir.
Fal. Are you content ? — Bring him back. — Nay, then,
you shall not go. — I'll be as cruel as you can wish. —
You're content ? belike you have a trick to break prison,
or a bribe for the officers. 193
Con. For us, sir.
Fal. For you, sir ! what colour's silver, I pray ? you
ne'er saw money in your life : I'll not trust you with
••JWIfMWIfW**!
scene i.] The Phoenix. 173
him. — Latronello and Fucato, lay hold upon him; to
your charge I commit him.
Fur. O, I beseech you, sir !
Fal. Nay, if I must be cruel, I will be cruel. 200
Fur. Good sir, let me rather go to prison.
Fal. You desire that ? I'll trust no prison with you :
I'll make you lie in mine own house, or I'll know why I
shall not
?S?r*Merciful sir !
-^3IHfii.XPjJ, hws .na.fily^aijibe^cruel.
Phce. Very good, sir ; jyou^pjease us well.
Fal. You shall appear to-morrow, sirs,
Fur. Upon my knees, sir !
^jJL^~i>^} hpJiajigad^m.t-a.'-±h.'-roa.y. — Away with
him, Latronello and Fucato ! — Officers, I discharge you
my house ; I like not your company. 212
Report me as you see me, fire and fuel ;
If men be Jews, justices must be cruel.
[Exeunt all but Phcenix and Fidelio.
Phce. So, sir, extremes set off all actions thus,
Either too tame, or else too tyrannous :
He being bent to fury, I doubt now
We shall not gain access unto your love,
Or she to us.
Fid. Most wishfully here she comes.
Enter Niece.
Phce. Is that she ? 220
Fid. This is she, my lord.
Phce. A modest presence.
1 74 The Phoenix. [act hi.
Fid. Virtue bless you, lady !
Niece. You wish me well, sir.
Fid. I'd first in charge this kiss, and next this paper ;
You'll know the language ; tis Fidelio's.
Niece. My ever-vowed love ! how is his health ?
Fid. As fair as is his favour with the prince.
Niece. I'm sick with joy : does the prince love him so ?
Fid. His life cannot requite it. 2 3°
Not to wrong the remembrance of his love,
I had a token for you, kept it safe,
Till by misfortune of the way this morning,
Thieves set upon this gentleman and myself,
And with the rest robb'd that.
Niece. Was it your loss ? x
O me, I'm dearly sorry for your chance !
They boldly look you in the face that robb'd you ;
No farther villains than my uncle's men.
Phce. What, lady ?
Niece. 'Tis my grief I speak so true.
Fid. Why, my lord 2 2 4°
Phx. But give me pausing, lady ; was he one
That took th' examination ?
Niece. One, and the chief.
Phce. Henceforth hang him jh aUsjaojjyj^lhjgf ;
Then! hopeJewJ^jBafififc^
Nay, afl the jest was, he co mmitted him
Tojth^chaige-ofius-ie Uow s, a n d-the-rogue
1 Old eds. ' ' O me, I'm dearly sorry for your chance, was it your
loss?"
2 Ed. 2 " lady."
scene ii.] The Phoenix. 175
Made it, lamentable, cried to leave /em :
None live sr> wisf;, font fools jnay_ once deceive 'em,
Fid. An uncle so insatiate !
Fhtg^ AyTT^ngt stran ge Too ,
That all should be by nature vicious, 25°
And he bad againsTh"ature f~
Niece. Then you have heard the sum of all my-wrongs ?
Phce. Lady, we have, and desire rather now
To heal 'em than to hear 'em :
For by a letter from Fidelio
Direct to us, we are intreated jointly
To hasten your remove from this foul den
Of theft and purpos'd incest.
Niece. I rejoice
In his chaste care of me : I'll soon be furnish'd.
Fid. He writes that his return cannot be long. 25o
Niece. I'm chiefly glad, — but whither is the place ?
Fhos. To the safe seat of his late wronged mother. 1
Niece. I desire it ;
Her conference will fit mine : well you prevail.
Phce. At next grove we'll expect you.
Niece. I'll not fail. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Street.
Enter Knight and Jeweller 's Wife.
Knight. It stands upon the frame of my reputation,
I protest, lady.
Jew. Wife. Lady? that word is worth an hundred
1 76 The Phcenix. [act hi.
angels at all times, for it cost more ; if I live till to-
morrow night, my sweet Pleasure, thou shalt have them.
Knight. Could you not make 'em ; a hundred and
fifty, think you ?
Jew. Wife. I'll do my best endeavour to multiply, I
assure you.
Knight. Could you not make 'em two hundred ? i°
Jew. Wife. No, by my faith
Knight. Peace ; I'll rather be confined in the hundred
and fifty.
Jew. Wife. Come e'en much about this time, when
taverns give up their ghosts, and gentlemen are in their
first cast 1
Knight. I'll observe the season.
Jew. Wife. And do but whirl the ring a' th' door once
about; my maid-servant shall be taught to understand
the language. 2°
Knight. Enough, my sweet Revenue.
Jew. Wife. Good rest, my effectual Pleasure. [Exeunt.
y > Vomit.
( *77 )
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Street before the Jeweller 's House, and the Court of
Law.
Enter Proditor and Phcenix.
Phw. What makes your honour break so early ?
Prod. A toy, I have a toy. 2
Phoe. A toy, my lord ?
Prod. Before thou lay'st thy wrath upon the duke,
Be advis'd.
Phce. Ay, ay, I warrant you, my lord.
Prod. Nay, give my words honour ; hear me.
I'll strive to bring this act into such form
And credit amongst men, they shall suppose,
Nay, verily believe, the prince, his son,
To be the plotter of his father's murder.
1 It is curious that the prince did not assume a new name with his
disguise. From i. 2 ( " Not many months Phcenix shall keep his life ")
it is clear that Proditor knew the prince by the name of Phcenix But
the oversight is trifling.
/ 2 Conceit, whim.
VOL. I. M
1 78 The Phoenix. [act iv.
Phce. O that were infinitely admirable ! 10
Prod. Were't not ? it pleaseth me beyond my bliss.
Then if his son meet death as he returns,
Or by my hired instruments turn up,
The general voice will cry, O happy vengeance !
Phx. O blessed vengeance !
Prod. Ay, I'll turn my brain
Into a thousand uses, tire my inventions,
Make my blood sick with study, and mine eye
More hollow than my heart, but I will fashion,
Nay, I will fashion it. Canst counterfeit ?
Phx. The prince's hand most 1 truly, most direct ; 20
You shall admire it.
Prod. Necessary mischief,
Next to a woman, but more close in secrets !
Thou'rt all the kindred that my breast vouchsafes.
Look into me anon : I must frame, and muse,
And fashion. [Exit.
Phx. 'Twas time to look into thee, in whose heart
Treason grows ripe, and therefore fit to fall :
That slave first sinks whose envy threatens all.
Now is his venom at full height.
[ Voices within.
First Voice [within]. Lying or being in the said county,
in the tenure and occupation aforesaid. 31
Second Voice [within]. No more then ; a writ of course
upon the matter of
1 Old eds. "more."
scene i.] The Phoenix. 1 79
Third Voice [within]. Silence !
Fourth Voice [within]. O-o-o-o-yes ! Carlo Turbulenzo,
appear, or lose twenty mark in the suits.
Phce. Hah, whither have my thoughts conveyed me ?
.La m now
WjihllLthft (iJ?,yy_TTmrmiirnft-hp law.
First Voice [withiu]T So that " then," the cause being
found clear, upon the last citation 41
Fourth Voice [within]. Carlo. Turbulenzo, come into
the court.
Enter Tangle and two Suitors after him.
Tan. Now, now, now, now, now, upon my knees I
praise Mercury, the god of law ! I have two suits at issue,
two suits at issue.
First Suit. Do you hear, sir ?
Tan. I will not hear ; I've other business.
First Suit. I beseech you, my learned counsel
Tan. Beseech not me, beseech not me; I am a mortal
man, a client as you are ; beseech not me. 51
First Suit. I would do all by your worship's direc-
tion.
Tan. Then hang thyself.
Second Suit. Shall I take out a special supplicavit ?
Tan. Mad me not, torment me not, tear me not;
you'll give me leave to hear mine own cause, mine own
cause.
First Voice [within]. Nay, moreover and farther
Tan. Well said, my lawyer, well said, well said ! 60
First Voice [within]. All the opprobrious speeches that
1 80 The Phcenix. [act iv.
man could invent, all malicious invectives, called wittol 1
to his face.
Tan. That's I, that's I : thank you, my learned counsel,
for your good remembrance. I hope I shall overthrow
him horse a nd foot. 2
First Suit. Nay, but good sir
Tan. No more, sir : he that brings me happy news
first I'll relieve first.
Both Suit. Sound executions rot thy cause and thee !
[Exeunt.
Tan. Ay, ay, ay, pray so still, pray so still; they'll
thrive' the better. 72
Phce. I wonder how this fellow keeps out madness ;
What stuff his brains are made on.
Tan. I suffer, I suffer, till I hear a judgment !
Phx. What, old signior?
Tan. Prithee, I will not know thee now ; 'tis a busy
time, a busy time with me.
Phx. What, not me, signior ?
Tan. O, cry thee mercy ! give me thy hand — fare thee
well. — Has no relief again 3 me then ; his demurs will not
help him ; his s ursurra ras * will but play the knaves with
him. 83
Enter Falso.
Phx. The justice ? 'tis he.
Fal. Have I found thee, i'faith ? I thought where I
should smell thee out, old Tangle.
/ ! See note 2, p. 123.
/ 2 So in Day's Law Tricks, iv. 1 : — " I am undone, horse and foot."
/ 3 Against. y 4 See note 2, p. 122.
scene i.] The Phoenix. 1 8 1
Tan. What, old signior justicer ? embrace me another
time and you can possible : — how does all thy wife's
children, — well ? that's well said, i'faith ?
Fal. Hear me, old Tangle. 90
Tan. Prithee, do not ravish me ; let me go.
Fal. I must use some of thy counsel first.
Tan. Sirrah, I ha' brought him to an exigent : hark !
that's my cause, that's my cause yonder : I twinged him,
I twinged him.
Fal. My niece is stolen away.
Tan. Ah, get me a ne exeat regno quickly ! nay, you
must not stay upon't ; I'd fain have you gone.
Fal. A ne exeat regno ? I'll about it presently : adieu.
{Exit.
Phce. You seek to catch her, justice ; she'll catch you.
Re-enter First Suitor.
First Suit. A judg mentj a judgment ! 101
Tan. What, what, what ?
First Suit. Overthrown, overthrown, overthrown !
Tan. Ha?— ah, ah!
Re-enter Second Suitor.
Second Suit. News, news, news !
Tan. The devil, the devil, the devil !
Second Suit. Twice Tangle's overtoc^ twic^T^ngle^
overiEKrownT
!
Pha. Now, old cheater o fj&fijaw-
fS«rTray7give me leave to be mad.
1 82 The Phcenix. [activ.
Phiz. Thou that hast found such sweet pleasure 1 in
the vexation of others
Tan. May I not be mad in quiet ?
Phm. Very marrow, very manna to thee to be in
law
Tan. Very syrup of toads and preserved adders !
Phx. Thou that hast vexed and beggared the whole
parish, and made the honest churchwardens go to law
with the poor's money 120
Tan. Hear me, do but hear me ! I pronounce a
terrible, horrible curse upon you all, and wish you to
my attorney. See where a pramunire comes, a dedimus
potestatem, and that most dreadful execution, excommuni-
cato capiendo ! There's no bail to be taken ; I shall rot
in fifteen jails : make dice of my bones, and let my
counsellor's son play away his father's money with 'em ;
may my bones revenge my quarrel ! A capias cominus 2
here, here, here, here; quickly dip your quills in my
blood, off with my skin, and write fourteen lines of a side.
There's an honest conscionable fellow ; he takes but ten
shillings of a bellows-mender : here's another deals all
with charity ; you shall give him nothing, only his wife
an embroidered petticoat, a gold fringe for her tail, or a
border for her head. Ah, sirrah, you shall catch me no
more in the springe of your knaveries ! [Exit. 136
First Suit. Follow, follow him still ; a little thing now
sets him forward. [Exeunt Suitors.
Phx. None can except against him ; the man's mad,
1 Phcenix is repeating what Tangle had said in the inn. See p. 123,
scene i.] The Phoenix. 183
And privileg'd by the moon, if he say true : 140
Less madness 'tis to speak sin than to do.
This wretch, that lov'd before his food his strife,
This punishment falls even with his life.
His pleasure was vexation, all his bliss
The torment of another ;
Their hurt 1 his health, their starved hopes his store :
Who so loves law dies either mad or poor.
Enter Fideho.
Fid. A miracle, a miracle !
Phos. How now, Fidelio ?
Fid. My lord, a miracle !
Phce. Whatis't?
1 Fid. I have found
(One quiet, suffering, and unlawyer'd man; 150
1 An opposite, a very contrary
I To the old turbulent fellow.
Phm. Why, he's mad.
Fid. Mad ? why, he is in his right wits : could he be
madder than he was ? if he be any way altered from what
I he was, 'tis for the better, my lord.
Phce. Well, but where's this wonder ?
Fid. 'Tis coming, my lord : a man so truly a man, so
indifferently a creature, using the world in his right nature
but to tread upon ; one that would not bruise the coward-
liest enemy to man, the worm, that dares not show his
malice till we are dead : nay, my lord, you will admire
his temper : see where he comes. 162
1/ 1 Old eds. ' ' heart. "
1 84 The Phoenix. [act rv.
Enter Quieto.
I promis'd your acquaintance, sir : yon is
The gentleman I did commend for temper.
Qui. Let me embrace you simply,
That's perfectly, and more in heart -than hand :
Let affectation keep at court.
Phce. Ay, let it.
Qui. 'Tis told me you love quiet.
Phm. Above wealth.
Qui. I above life : I have been wild and rash, \
Committed many and unnatural crimes, 170
Which I have since repented.
Phoe. 'Twas well spent. {
Qui. I was mad, stark mad, nine years together. 1
Phiz. I pray, as how?
Qui. Going to law, i'faith, it made me mad.
Pha. With the like frenzy, not an hour since,
An aged man was struck.
Qui. Alas, I pity him !
Phce. He's not worth pitying, for 'twas still his glad-
ness
To be at variance.
Qui. Yet a man's worth pity :
My quiet blood has blest me with this gift :
I have cur'd some ; and if his wits be not 1S0
Too deeply cut, I will assay to help 'em.
Phx. Sufferance does teach you pity.
scene i.] The Phcenix. 185
Enter Boy. ]
- B°y- Q master, master ! your abominable next neigh-l
bour came into the house, being half in drink, and took^
away your best carpet. 1
Qui. Has he it ? *
Boy. Alas, sir !
Qui. Let him go ; trouble him not : lock the door
quietly after him, and have a safer care who comes in
next. 1 go
Phce. But, sir, might I advise you, in such a cause as
this a man might boldly, nay, with conscience, go to law.
Qui. O, I'll give him the table too first ! Better
endure a fist than a sharp sword : I had rather they
should pull off my clothes than flay off my skin, and
hang that on mine enemy's hedge.
Phx. Why,
For such good causes was the law ordain'd.
Qui. True,
And in itself 'tis glorious and divine ; 200
Law is the very masterpiece of heaven :
But see yonder,
There's many clouds between the sun and us ;
There's too much cloth before we see the law.
Pkas. I'm content with that answer ; be mild still :
'Tis honour to forgive those you could kill.
Qui. There do I keep.
v 1 Table-cover. Cf. Taming of the Shrew, iv. i : — " Be the jacks fair
within, the jills fair without, the carpets laid and everything in order? "
1 86 The Phcenix. [activ.
Phiz. Reach me your hand : I love you,
And you shall know me better.
Qui. 'Tis my suit.
Phcs. The night grows deep, and
Enter two Officers.
First Off. Come away, this way, this way. 210
Phx. Who be those ? stand close a little.
[As they retire, Phcenix happens to jar the ring of the
Jeweller's door ; the Maid enters from the house and
catches hold of him.
Maid. O, you're come as well as e'er you came in your
life ! my master's new gone to bed. Give me your
knightly hand : I must iead you into the blind parlour ;
my mistress will be down to you presently.
[Takes in Phcenix.
First Off. I tell you our safest course will be to arrest
him when he comes out a' th' tavern, for then he will be
half drunk, and will not stand upon his weapon.
Second Off. Our safest course indeed, for he will draw.
First Off. That he will, though he put it up again,
which is more of his courtesy than of our deserving. 221
[Exeunt Officers.
S#te^£^3CJ3^jatafelfi^^ion.
Fid. Did you see the gentleman ?
Qui. Not I.
Fid. Where should he be ? it may be he's past by :
Good sir, let's overtake him. [Exeunt.
scene ii.] The Pkcenix. 187
SCENE II.
A Room in the Jeweller's House.
Enter Phcenix and Maid.
Maid. Here, sir : now you are there, sir, she'll come
down to you instantly. I must not stay with you ; my
mistress would be jealous : you must do nothing to me ;
my mistress would find it quickly. [Exit.
Phce. 'S foot, whither am I led ? brought in by th'
hand ? I hope it can be no harm to stay for a woman,
though indeed they were never more dangerous : I have
ventured hitherto and safe, and I must venture to stay
now. This should be a fair room, but I see it not : the
blind parlour calls she it ? 10
Enter Jeweller's Wife.
Jew. Wife. Where art thou, O my knight ?
Phce. Your knight ? I am the duke's knight.
Jew. Wife. I say you're my knight, for I'm sure I paid
for you.
Phce. Paid for you?— hum. — 'S foot, a light !
[Snatches in a light, and then extinguishes it.
Jew. Wife. Now out upon the marmoset ! Hast thou
served me so long, and offer to bring in a candle ?
Phm. Fair room, villanous face, and worse woman ! I
ha' learnt something by a glimpse a' th' candle. [Aside.
Jew. Wife. How happened it you came so soon ? I
looked not for you these two hours; yet, as the sweet
1 88 The Phoenix. [activ.
chance is, you came as well as a thing could come, for
my husband's newly brought a-bed. 23
Phce. And what has Jove sent him ?
Jew. Wife. He ne'er sent him anything since I knew
him : he's a man of a bad nature to his wife ; none but his
maids can thrive under him.
Phce. Out upon him.
Jew. Wife. Ay, judge whether I have a cause to be a
courtesan or no ? to do as I do ? An elderly fellow as I
he is, if he were married to a young virgin, he were able i
to break her heart, though he could break nothing else, j
Here, here ; there's just a hundred and fifty [giving money] ;
but I stole 'em so hardly from him, 'twould e'en have 1
grieved you to have seen it. 35
Phce. So 'twould, i'faith.
Jew. Wife. Therefore, prithee, my sweet Pleasure, do
not keep company so much. How do you think I am
able to maintain you? Though I be a jeweller's wife,
jewels are like women, they rise and fall ; we must be
content to lose sometimes, to gain often; but you're
content always to lose, and never to gain. What need
you ride with a footman before you ? 43
Phce. O, that's the grace !
Jew. Wife. The grace ? 'tis sufficient grace that you've
a horse to ride upon. You should think thus with yourself
every time you go to bed, — if my head were laid, what
would become of that horse ? he would run a bad race
then, as well as his master.
Phce. Nay, and you give me money to chide'me 50
Jew. Wife. No, if it were as much more, I would think it
scene ii.] The Phoenix. 189
foul scorn to chide you. I advise you to be thrifty, to take
the time now, while you have it : you shall seldom get such ■
j another fool as I am, I warrant you. Why, there's Metreza 1 ■.
' Auriola keeps her love with half the cost that I am at :
her friend can go a' foot like a good husband, walk in \
worsted stockings, and inquire for the sixpenny ordinary. 2 ,
Phtz. Pox on't, and would you have me so base ?
Jew. Wife. No, I would not have you so base neither :
but now and then, when you keep your chamber, 'you
might let your footman out for eighteenpence a-day ; a
great relief at year's end, I can tell you. 62
Phoe. The age must needs be foul when _yicereiJ
f orms it. ~ — ~ ™ " [Aside.
'Jew. Wife. Nay, I've a greater quarrel to you yet.
Phce. I'faith, what is't ?
Jew. Wife. You made me believe at first the prince
had you in great estimation, and would not offer to travel
without you, nay, that he could not travel without your
direction and intelligence. 70
Phx. I'm sorry I said so, i'faith ; but sure I was over-
flown 3 when I spoke it, I could ne'er ha' said it else.
1 Mistress. " Probably meant as Italian ; but only Frenchified
Italian, made from maitresse." — Nares.
2 ' ■ There were ordinaries of all prices. Our author notices, in Father
Hubburd's Tales, a three-halfpenny ordinary ; in No Wit, no Help like
a Woman's, a twelve-penny ordinary, act ii. sc. 3 ; in The Black Book,
an eighteen-penny ordinary ; in A Trick to catch the Old One, a two-
shilling ordinary, act i. sc. 1 ; Fletcher, in The Wild-Goose Chase, a
ten-crown ordinary, act i. sc. 1 ; and our author, in Father Hubburd's
Tales, mentions a person who had spent five pounds at a sitting in an
ordinary. " — Dyce.
3 " i.e. drunk. — 'The young Gentleman is come in, Madam, and as
1 90 The Phoenix. [act iv.
Jew. Wife. Nay more ; you swore to me that you were
the first that taught him to ride a great horse, and tread
the ring 1 with agility.
Phm. By my troth, I must needs confess I swore a
great lie in that, and I was a villain to do it, for I could
ne'er ride great horse in my life.
Jew. Wife. Why, lo, who would love you no w but a
citizen's wife? so inconstant, so forsworn ! You say
women are false creatures ; but, take away men, and they'd ;
I be honester than you. Nay, last of all, which offends me
most of all, you told me you could countenance me at
court; and you know we esteem a friend there more
worth than a husband here. 85
Phce. What I spake of that, lady, I'll maintain.
Jew. Wife. You maintain ? you seen at court ?
Phce. Why, by this diamond
Jew . Wife. 0, take heed ! you cannot have that ; 'tis
always in the eye of my husband. 90
Ph«. I protest I will not keep it, but only use it for
this virtue, as a token to fetch you, and approve. 2 my
power, where you shall not only be received, but made
known to the best and chiefest.
you foresaw very \aghflmime, but not so drunke as to forget your promise. '
— Beome's Mad Couple well Match' d, act iv. sc. .t. Five New Playes,
1653."— Dyce.
1 The circular piece of ground in which the horse went through his
feats of agility. In Christopher Clifford's School of Horsemanship, 1585,
directions are given for " trotting the great ring, and what order is to
ye observed therein ; " also ' ' How and at what time you shall learn
bour horse to gallop the great ring."
2 Prove.
•4
scene in.] The Phosnix. 191
few. Wife. O, are you true ?
Phoz. Let me lose my revenue 1 else.
Jew. Wife. That's your word, indeed ! and upon that
condition take it, this kiss, and my love for ever.
[Giving the diamond.
Phoz. Enough.
Jew. Wife. Give me thy hand, I'll lead thee forth. 100
PIue. I'm sick of all professions ; myjhoughts burn :
He traveTTFesf that kn<5ws when to return. {Aside.
[ Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Street before the Jeweller's House.
Enter Knight, two Officers watching for him.
Knight. Adieu, farewell ; 2 to bed you ; I to my sweet
city-bird, my precious Revenue : the very thought of a
hundred and fifty angels increases oil and spirit, ho !
First Off. I arrest you, sir.
Knight. O !
First Off. You have made us wait a goodly time for
you, have you not, think you ? You are in your rouses
and mullwinesj 3 a pox on you ! and have no care of
poor officers staying for you.
Knight. I drunk but one health, I protest; but I
could void it now. At whose suit, I pray? n
y l A word continually in the Knight's mouth. See the beginning o
the next scene.
" Addressed to his tavern-companions.
, * A corruption of milled wines.
192 The Phoenix. [activ.
First Off. At the suit of him that makes suits, your
tailor.
Knight. Why, he made me the last ; this, this that I
wear.
First Off. Argo , 1 — nay, we have been scholars, I can
tell you, — we could not have been knaves so soon else ;
for as in that notable city called London stand two most
famous universities Poultry and Wood-street, 2 where
some are of twenty years' standing, and have took all
their degrees, from the Master's side 3 down to the
Mistress' side, the Hole, so in like manner 22
Knight. Come, come, come, I had quite forgot the
hundred and fifty angels.
Second Off. 'Slid, where be they ?
Knight. I'll bring you to the sight of 'em presently.
First Off. A notable lad, and worthy to be arrested !
We'll have but ten for waiting; and then thou shalt
choose whether thou shalt run away from us, or we from
thee. 30
Knight. ■ A match at running ! come, come, follow me.
Second Off. Nay, fear not that.
1 A corruption of "ergo." The reader will remember the grave-
digger's " argal " in Hamlet.
2 Sir Thomas Overbury concludes his character of " A Prison " with
these words : — " But (not so much to dishonour it) it is an university of
poor scholars, in which three arts are chiefly studied ; to pray, to curse,
and to write letters." Cf. Middleton's Michaelmas Term, iii. 4.
3 The governor of a prison was allowed to let certain rooms for his
own profit ; hence " to lie of the Master's side " meant to have the best
lodging in the prison. The "Hole " was where the poorest prisoners
were confined.
scene in.] The Phoenix.
193
Knight. Peace ; you may happen to see toys, 1 but do
not see 'em.
First Off. Pah !
Knight. That's the door.
First Off. This? {Knocks.
Knight. 'S foot, ofncer, you have spoiled all already.
First Off. Why?
Knight. Why ? you shall see : you should have but
whirled the ring once about, and there's a maid-servant
brought up to understand it. 42
Maid [opening the door]. Who's at door ?
Knight. All's well again. — Phist, 'tis I, 'tis I.
Maid. You ? what are you ?
Knight. Pooh ! where's thy mistress ?
Maid. What of her ?
Knight. Tell her one — she knows who — her Pleasure's
here, say.
Maid. Her pleasure ? my mistress scorns to be without
her pleasure at this time of night. Is she so void of
friends, think you ? take that for thinking so. 52
[Gives him a box on the ear, and shuts the door.
First Off. The hundred and fifty angels are locked up
in a box ; we shall not see 'em to-night.
Knight. How's this ? am I used like a hundred-pound
gentleman ? does my Revenue forsake me ? Damn me,
if ever I be her Pleasure again ! — Well, I must to
prison.
V' 1 Whimsical proceedings.
VOL. I. N
1 94 The Phoenix. [act iv.
First Off. Go prepare his room ; there's no remedy :
I'll bring him along ; he's tame enough now. 60
[Exit Second Officer.
Knight. Dare my tailor presume to use me in this
sort?
He steals, and I must lie in prison for't.
First Off. Come, come away, sir !
Enter a Gentleman and a Drawer.
Gent. Art sure thou sawest him arrested, drawer ?
Dra. If mine eyes be sober.
Gent. And that's a question. Mass, here he goes ! he
shall not go to prison ; I have a trick shall bail him :
away ! [Exit Drawer.
[Blinds the First Officer, while the Knight
escapes.
" First Off. O !
Gent. Guess, guess ! who am I ? who am I ? y
First Off. Who the devil are you ? let go : a pox on
you ! who are you ? I have lost my prisoner.
Gent. Prisoner? I've mistook; I cry you heartily
mercy ; I have done you infinite injury ; a' my troth, I
took you to be an honest man.
First Off. Where were your eyes ? could you not see
I was an officer ? — Stop, stop, stop, stop !
Gent. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! [Exeunt severally.
( 195 )
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Presence-Chamber in the Duke of Ferrara's
Palace.
Enter Proditor and Phcenix.
Prod. Now, Phoenix. 1
Phce. Now, my lord.
Prod. Let princely blood
Nourish our hopes ; we bring confusion now.
Phce. A terrible sudden blow.
Prod. Ay : what day
Is this hangs over us ?
Phce. By th' mass, Monday.
Prod. As I could wish ; my purpose will thrive best ;
'Twas first my birthday, now my fortune's day.
I see whom fate will raise needs never pray.
Phce. Never. ' "~~
Prod. How is the air ?
Phce. 0, full of trouble !
1 See'note i, p. 177.
196 The Phosnix. [act v.
Prod. Does not the sky look piteously black ?
Phce. As if 'twere hung with rich men's consciences.
Prod. Ah, stuck not a comet, like a carbuncle, u
Upon the dreadful brow of twelve last night ?
Phoz. Twelve ? no, 'twas about one.
Prod. About one ? most proper,
For that's the duke.
Phce. Well shifted from thyself ! [Aside.
Prod. I could have wish'd it between one and two,
His son and him.
Phos. I'll give you comfort then.
Prod. Prithee.
Phce. There was a villanous raven seen last night
Over the presence-chamber, in hard justle
With a young eaglet. 20
Prod. A raven ? that was I : what did the raven ?
Phot. Marry, my lord, the raven — to say truth,
I left the combat doubtful.
Prod. So 'tis still,
For all is doubt till the deed crown the will.
Now bless thy loins with freedom, wealth, and honour ;
Think all thy seed young lords, and by this act
Make a foot-cloth'd * posterity ; now imagine
Thou see'st thy daughters with their trains borne up,
Whom else despised want may curse to whoredom,
And public shames which our state never threat : 30
She's never lewd that is accounted great.
/ J "i.e. make your descendants persons of great consequence, riding
vain foot-cloths (long housings) on their horses." — Dyce.
scene i.] The Phoenix. 197
Phoe. I'll alter that court axiom, thus renew'd,
She's never great that is accounted lewd. [Aside.
Enter several Nobles.
Prod. Stand close; the presence fills. Here, here
the place ;
And at the rising, let his fall be base,
Beneath thy foot.
Phce. How for his guard, my lord ?
Prod. My gold and fear keeps with the chief of them.
Phce. That's rarely well.
Prod. Bold, heedless slave, that dares attempt a deed
Which shall in pieces rend him ! [Aside.
Enter Lussurioso and Infesto.
My lords both ! 40
Lus. The happiness of the day !
Phoe. Time my returning ;
Treasons have still the worst, yet still are spurning.
[Aside.
Enter the Duke attended.
Prod. The duke!
Phce. I ne'er was gladder to behold him.
All. Long live your grace !
Duke. I do not like that strain :
You know my age affords not to live long.
Prod. Spoke truer than you think for. [Aside.
Duke. Bestow that wish upon the prince our son.
t Phce. Nay, he's not to live long neither. [Aside.
198 The Phoenix. [act v.
Prod. Him as the wealthy treasure of our hopes,
You as possession of our present comfort, 50
Both in one heart we reverence in one.
Phoe. O treason of a good complexion ! {Aside.
[Horn winded within.
Duke. How now ? what fresher news fills the court's
ear?
Enter Fidelio.
Prod. Fidelio !
Fid. Glad tidings to your grace !
The prince is safe return'd, and in your court.
Duke. Our joy breaks at our eyes; 1 the prince is
come !
Prod. Soul-quicking 2 news ! — pale vengeance to my
blood ! [Aside.
Fid. By me presenting to your serious view
A brief of all his travels. [Delivers a paper.
Duke. 'Tis most welcome ;
It shall be dear and precious to our eye. 60
Prod. He reads ; I'm glad he reads. —
Now take thy opportunity, leave that place.
Phce. At his first rising let his fall be base. 3
Prod. That must be alter'd now.
Phce. Which ? his rising or his fall ?
J Cf. Changeling, iii. 4 : —
" Our sweet'st delights
Are evermore born weeping."
2 So ed. 2. — Ed. 1 "qucking."
3 Phcenix is repeating the words that Proditor had used. See p. 197.
scene i.] The Phoenix. 1 99
Prod. Art thou dull now ?
Thou hear'st the prince is come.
Duke. What's here ? x
Prod. My lord ?
Duke [reads]. I have got such a large portion of
knowledge, most worthy father, by the benefit of my
travel 70
Prod. And so he has, no doubt, my lord.
Duke [reads]. That I am bold now to warn you of
Lord Proditor's insolent treason, who has irreligiously
seduced a fellow, and closely conveyed him e'en in the
presence-chair to murder you.
Phoe. O guilty, guilty !
Duke. What' was that fell? what's he?
Phce. I am the man.
Prod. O slave !
Phce. I have no power to strike.
Prod. I'm gone, I'm gone ! 1
Duke. Let me admire heaven's wisdom in my son. 80
Phoe. I confess it, he hir'd me
Prod. This is a slave :
'Tis forg'd against mine honour and my life ;
For in what part of reason can't appear,
The prince being travell'd should know treasons here ?
Plain counterfeit.
Duke. Dost thou make false our son ?
Prod. I know the prince will not affirm't.
Fid. He can
And will, my lord.
1 Old eds. " What's heere my Lord."
200 The Phoenix. [act v.
Pha. Most just, he may.
Duke. A guard !
Lus. We cannot but in loyal zeal ourselves
Lay hands on such a villain.
{Attendants secure Proditor.
Duke. Stay you ; I find you here too.
Lus. Us, my lord ? 90
Duke [reads]. Against Lussurioso and Infesto, who not
only most riotously consume their houses in vicious gaming,
mortgaging their livings to the merchant, whereby he with
his heirs enter upon their lands ; from whence this abuse
comes, that in short time the son of the merchant has more
lordships than the son of the nobleman, which else was never
born to inheritance : but that which is more impious, they
most adulterously train out young ladies to midnight ban-
quets, to the utter defamation of their own honours, and
ridiculous abuse of their husbands. 100
Lus. How could the prince hear that ?
Phce. Most true, my lord :
My conscience is a witness 'gainst itself;
For to that execution of chaste honour
I was both hir'd and led.
Lus. I hope the prince, out of his plenteous wisdom,
Will not give wrong to us : as for this fellow,
He's poor, and cares not to be desperate.
Enter Falso.
Fal. Justice, my lord ! I have my niece stol'n from
me :
Sh'as left her dowry with me, but she's gone :
scene i.] The Phcenix, 20 1
I'd rather have had her love than her money, I. no
This, this is one of them. Justice, my lord !
I know him by his face ; this is the thief.
Prod. Your grace may now in milder sense perceive
The wrong done to us by this impudent wretch,
Who has his hand fix'd at the throat of law,
And therefore durst be desperate of his life
Duke. Peace, you're too foul ; your crime is in excess :
One spot of him makes not your ulcers less.
Prod. O!
Duke. Did your violence force away his niece ?
Phoe. No, my good lord ; I'll still confess what's truth ;
I did remove her from her many wrongs, 121
Which she was pleas'd to leave, they were so vild.
Dtike. What are you nam'd ?
Fal. Falso, my lord, Justice Falso ; t
I'm known by that name.
Duke. Falso ? you came fitly ;
You are the very next that follows here.
Fal. I hope so, my lord ; my name is in all the records,
I can assure your good grace.
Enter Niece and Castiza behind.
Duke [reads]. Against Justice Falso
Fal. Ah!
Duke [reads]. Who, having had the honest charge of his
niece committed to his trust by the last will and testament of
her deceased father, and with her all the power of his wealth,
not only against faith and conscience detains her dowry, but
against nature and humanity assays to abuse her body. 134
202 The Phoenix. [act v.
Niece [coming forward], I'm present to affirm it, my
lov'd lord.
Fal. How ? what make I here ? J
Niece. Either I must agree
To loathed lust, or despis'd beggary.
Duke Are you the plaintiff here ?
Fal. Ay, my good lord,
For fault of a better.
Duke. Seldom comes a worse. — [Reads] And moreover,
not contained in this vice only, which is odious too much,
but, against the sacred use of justice, maintains three thieves
to his men. 143
Fal. Cuds me !
Duke [reads]. Who only take purses in their master's
liberty, where if any one chance to be taken, he appears
before him in a false beard, and one of his own fellows takes
his examination.
Fal. By my troth, as true as can be ; but he shall not
know on't [Aside. 150
Duke [reads]. And in the end will execute justice so
cruelly upon him, that he will not trust him in a prison,
but commit him to his fellows' chamber.
Fal. Can a man do nothing i' the country but 'tis told
at court ? there's some busy informing knave abroad, a'
my life. [Aside.
Phas. That this is true, and these, and more, my lord,
1 What is my business here? — Cf. mad Hieronimo's exclamation when
the servants approach with the torches in the garden, — "What make
you with your torches in the dark ? "
scene i.] The Phoenix. 203
Be it, under pardon, spoken for mine own ;
He the disease of justice, these of honour,
And this of loyalty and reverence, 160
The unswept venom of the palace.
Prod. Slave!
Phoe. Behold the prince to approve it !
[Discovers himself?
Prod. O, where?
Phce. Your eyes keep with your actions, both look
wrong.
Prod. An infernal to my spirit !
All. My lord, the prince !
Prod. Tread me to dust, thou in whom wonder keeps ! 2
Behold the serpent on his belly creeps.
Phce. Rankle not my foot ; away !
Treason, we laugh at thy vain-labouring stings, 3
Above the foot thou hast no power o'er kings !
Duke. I cannot with sufficient joy receive thee. 1 70
And yet my joy's too much.
Phce. My royal father,
To whose unnatural murder I was hir'd,
I thought it a more natural course of travel,
And answering future expectation,
To leave far countries, and inquire mine own.
Duke. To thee let reverence all her powers engage,
That art in youth a miracle to age !
1 In ed. 1 there is no stage-direction. — Ed. 2 gives " to approoue it
discouers himselfe."
/ 2 Dwells.
3 Ed. 1 " strings."— Ed. 2 "string."
204 The Phoenix. [act v.
State is bu ^bl'"dness_^Jji ou hadst p iercing art :
We only saw the knee, but thou the heart.
To thee, then, power and jd^^e^mwe _resigju - 180
' Hels fit tn rpj gn whose knowle dge can refine.
Pkce. Forbid it my obedience! ~~
Duke. Our word's not vain :
I k now the e wise, canst both obey a nd reign ,
,TEe"rest ot life we dedicate~to~heaven.
All. A happy and safe reign to our new duke !
» Phx. Without your prayers safer and happier. —
Fidelio.
Fid. My royal lord.
Phm. Here, take this diamond : *
You know the virtue on't ; it can fetch vice.
Madam Castiza
Fid. She attends, my lord. [Exit.
Phm. Place a guard near us. — 190
Know you yon fellow, lady ?
Cos. [coming forward]. My honour's evil !
Prod. T orment again ! 2
Phm. So ugly are thy crimes,
Thine eye cannot endure 'em :
And that thy face may stand perpetually
Turn'd so from ours, and thy abhorred self
Neither to threaten wrack of state or credit,
^ An everlasting banishment seize on thee !
Prod. O fiend !
1 The diamond which he had received from the jeweller's wife.
2 Ed. 2 " Tormentagent " (which Dyce thought to be a corruption of
» ' ' Torment's agent ").
scene i.] The Phoenix. 205
Phoe. Thy life is such it is too bad to end.
Prod. May thy rule, life, and all that's in thee glad,
Have as short time as thy begetting had ! 201
Phoe. Away ' thy r nr1 "* ' g irllp [Exit Proditor.
The rest are under reformation, |
And therefore under pardon. J
Lus. &*c. Our duties shall turn edge upon our crimes.
Pal. 'Slid, I was afraid of nothing, but that for my
thievery and bawdery I should have been turned to an
innkeeper. [Aside.
Re-enter Fidelio with Jeweller's Wife.
My daughter ! I am ashamed her worship should see me.
Jew. Wife. Who would not love a friend at court?
what fine galleries and rooms am I brought through ! I
had thought my Knight durst not have shown his face
here, I. 213
Phoe. Now, mother of pride and daughter of lust, which
is your friend now?
Jew. Wife. Ah me !
Phoe. I'm sure you are not so unprovided to be without
a friend here : you'll pay enough for him first.
Jew. Wife. This is the worst room that ever I came. in.
Phoe. I am your servant, 1 mistress ; 2 know you not me ?
Jew. Wife. Your worship is too great for me to know :
I'm but a small-timbered woman, when I'm out of my
apparel, and dare not venture upon greatness. 223
Phw. Do you deny me then ? know you this purse ?
S~ 1 Often used in the sense of lover or paramour.
2 So ed. 2.— Ed. i " Master."
2o6 The Phoenix. . ' [act v.
Jew. Wife. That purse? O death, has the Knight
serVd me so ?
Given away my favours ?
Phce. Stand forth, thou one of those
For whose close lusts the plague ne'er leaves the city.
Thou worse than common ! private, subtle harlot !
That dost deceive three with one feigned lip, 230
Thy husband, the world's eye, and the law's whip.
Thy zeal is hot, for 'tis to lust and fraud,
And dost not dread to make thy book thy bawd.
Thou'rt curse enough to husband's ill-got gains,
For whom the court rejects his gold maintains.
How dear and rare was freedom wont to be !
Now few but are by their wives' copies free,
And brought to such a head, that now we see
City and suburbs wear one livery !
Jew. Wife. 'Tis 'long of those, 1 an't like your grace
that come in upon us, and will never leave marrying of
our widows till they make 'em all as free as their first
husbands. 243
Phce. I perceive you can shift a point well.
Jew. Wife. Let me have pardon, I beseech your grace,
and I'll peach 'em all, all the close women that are ; and,
upon my knowledge, there's above five thousand within
the walls and the liberties.
Phce. A band ! they shall be sent against the Turk ; 2
Infidels against infidels. 250
1 So ed. 2.— Ed. 1 " these.'
2 Ed. 2 "Turks."
scene i.] The Phcenix. 207
Jew. Wife. I will hereafter live so modestly, I will not
lie with mine own husband, nor come near a man in the
way of honesty.
Fal. I'll be her warrant, my lord.
Phce. You are deceiv'd ; you think you're still a justice.
Fal. 'S foot, worse than I was before I kneeled ! I am
no justice now ; I know I shall be some innkeeper at
last.
Jew. Wife. My father? 'tis mine own father. 259
Phce. I should have wonder'd else, lust being so like.
Niece. Her birth was kin to mine ; she may prove
modest :
For my sake I beseech you pardon her.
Phce. For thy sake I'll do more. — Fidelio, hand her.
My favours on you both ; next, all that wealth
Which was committed to that perjur'd's trust.
Fal. I'm a beggar now ; worse than an innkeeper.
Enter Tangle mad.
' Tan. Your mittimus shall not serve : I'll set myself
free with a deliberandum ; with a deliberandum, mark you.
Duke. What's he ? a guard !
Phce. Under your sufferance,
Worthy father, his harm is to himself; 270
One that has lov'd vexation so much,
He cannot now be rid on't :
Has been so long in suits, that he's law-mad.
Tan. A judgment, I crave a judgment, yea ! nunc pro
tunc, corruptione alicujus, I peeped me a raven in the
208 The Phoenix. [act v.
face, and I thought it had been my solicitor : O, the pens
prick me !
Enter Quieto.
Phce. And here comes he (wonder for temperance)
Will take the cure upon him.
Qui. A blessing to this fair assembly ! 280
Tan. Away ! I'll have none on't : give me an audita
querela, or a testificandum, or a despatch in twelve terms :
there's a blessing, there's a blessing !
Phm. You see the unbounded rage of his disease.
Qui. Tis the foul fiend, my lord, has got within him.
The rest are fair to this : this breeds in ink,
And to that colour turns the blood possess'd :
For instance, now your grace shall see him dress'd.
Tan. Ah ha ! I rejoice then he's puzzled, and muzzled
too:
It's come to a cefii corpus ?
Qui. Ah, good sir, 290
This is for want of patience !
Tan. That's a fool :
She never saw the dogs and the be ars fight ; '
A country thing.
Qui. This is for lack of grace.
/ * The bull-baiting at Paris Garden, in Southwark, was a great attrac-
tion to visitors from the country. Dyce quotes appositely from Brath-
wait's Barnabees Journall : —
" Seven Hils there were in Rome, and so there be
Seven Sights in New-Troy crave our memorie :
1 Tombes, 2 Guild-Hall Giants, 3 Stage-plaies, 4 Bedlam poore,
5 Ostrich, 6 Beare-garden, 7 Lyons in the Towre."
scene i.] i The Pkcenix. 209
Tan. I've other business, not so much idle time.
Qui. You never say your prayers.
Tan. I'm advised by my learned counsel.
Qui. The power of my charm come o'er thee,
Place by degrees thy wits before thee !
With silken patience here I bind thee,
Not to move till I unwind thee. 300
Tan. Yea ! is my cause so muddy ? do I stick, do I
stick fast ?
Advocate, here's my hand, pull ; art made of flint ?
Wilt not help out ? alas, there's nothing in't !
Phce. O, do you sluice the vein now ?
Qui. Yes, my honour'd lord.
Phx. Pray, let me see the issue.
Qui. I therefore seek to keep it. — Now burst out,
Thou filthy stream of trouble, spite, and doubt !
Tan. O, an extent, a proclamation, a summons, a recog-
nisance, a tachment, and injunction ! a writ, a seizure, a
writ of 'praisement, an absolution, a quietus est!
Qui. You're quieter, I hope, by so much dregs. 3 12
— Behold, my lord !
Phce. This ! why, it outfrowns ink.
Qui. 'Tis the disease's nature, the fiend's drink.
Tan. O sick, sick, signior Ply-fee, sick ! lend me thy
nightcap, O !
Qui. The balsam of a temperate brain
I pour into this thirsty vein,
And with this blessed oil of quiet,
Which is so cheap, that few men buy it, 3 2 °
Thy stormy temples I allay :
VOL. I. O
210 The Phoenix. [act v.
Thou shalt give up the devil, and pray ;
Forsake his works, they're foul and black,
And keep thee bare in purse and back.
No more shalt thou in paper quarrel,
To dress up apes in good apparel.
He throws his stock and all his flock
Into a swallowing gulf,
That sends his goose unto his fox,
His lamb unto his wolf. 33°
Keep thy increase,
And live at peace,
For war's * not equal to this battle :
That eats but men ; this men and cattle :
Therefore no more this combat choose,
Where he that wins does always lose ;
And those that gain all, with this curse receive it,
From fools they get it, to their sons they leave it.
Tan. Hail, sacred p atience ! I begin to feel
I have a conscience now ; truth in my words, 34°
Compassion in my heart, and, above all,
In my blood peace's music. Use me how you can,
You shall find me an honest, quiet man.
O, pardon, that I dare behold that face !
-T^cn y I've least 2 law I hope I have most gra ce ■ ^
Phce. We both admire the workman and his piece.
Thus when all hearts are tun'd to honour's strings,
There is no music to the quire of kings. [Exeunt omnes.
1 So ed. 2. — Ed. i "war."
j* So ed. 2.— Ed. i " left."
MICHAELMAS TERM.
Michaelmas Terme. As it hath been svndry'times acted by the
Children of Paules. At London, Printed for A. I. and are to be
sould at the signe of the white horse in Paules Churchyard. An.
1607. 4to. Another editjon, newly corrected, appeared in 1630.
Michaelmas Term was licensed by Sir George Buc, 15th May 1607.
DRAMATIS PERSONM.
Easy, \
cockstone, )
Quomodo, a woollen-draper.
Falsei icht ( ^ s a ^endants ; familiar spirits. 1
Sim, son to Quomodo.
Andrew Lethe, an adventurer, son to Mother Gruel.
Hellgill, a pander.
Father to the Country Wench.
Judge.
Dustbox, a scrivener.
Tailor.
Drawer.
Boy.
Beadle.
Liverymen, Officers, &c.
Thomasine, wife to Quomodo, afterwards married to Easy.
Susan, her daughter.
Thomasine's mother.
Mother Gruel.
Country Wench, seduced by Lethe.
Mistress Comings, a ti> e-woman.
Winefred, maid to Thomasine.
Induction.
Michaelmas Term.
The other Three Terms.
Boy, <5«\
SCENE, London.
1 Though Shortyard and Falselight are several times throughout the play
termed "spirits," they exercise no supernatural power, and are knaves of the
ordinary type.
MICHAELMAS TERM.
INDUCTION.
Enter Michaelmas Term in a whitish cloak, new come up
out of the country, a Boy bringing his gown after him.
Mich. T. Boy.
Boy. Here, sir.
Mich. T. Lay by my conscience ;
Give me my gown ; that weed is for the country :
We must be civil now, and match our evil :
Who first made civil black, he pleas'd the devil.
So:
Now know I where I am : methinks already
I grasp best part of the autumnian blessing
In my contentious fathom ; 1 my hand's free : 10
From wronger and from wronged I have fee ;
And what by sweat from the rough earth they draw
Is to enrich this silver harvest, law ;
And so through wealthy variance and fat brawl,
v x Comprehension.— Old eds. "fadome."
216 Michaelmas Term.
The barn is made but steward to the hall.
Come they up thick enough ?
Boy. O, like hops and harlots, sir.
Mich. T. Why dost thou couple them ?
Boy. O very aptly; for as the hop well boiled will
make a man not stand upon his legs, so the harlot in
time will leave a man no legs to stand upon. 21
Mich. T. Such another, and be my heir ! I have no
child,
Yet have I wealth would redeem beggary.
I think it be a curse both here and foreign,
Where bags are fruitful'st there the womb's most barren :
The poor has all our children, we their wealth.
Shall I be prodigal when my life cools,
Make those my heirs whom I have beggar'd, fools ?
It would be wondrous ; rather beggar more ;
Thou shalt have heirs enow, thou keep'st a whore : 30
And here comes kindred too with no mean purses,
Yet strive to be still blest with clients' curses.
Music playing, enter the other three Terms, the first bring-
ing in a fellow poor, which the other two advanceth,
giving him rich apparel, a page, and a pander : he
then goes out.
Mich. T. What subtility have we here ? a fellow
Shrugging for life's kind benefits, shift and heat,
Crept up in three terms, wrapt in silk and silver,
So well appointed too with page and pander !
It was a happy gale that blew him hither.
Michaelmas Term. 217
First T. Thou father of the Terms, hail to thee !
Sec. T. May much contention still keep with thee !
Third T. Many new fools come up and fee thee ! 40
Sec. T. Let 'em pay dear enough that see thee !
First T. And like asses use such men;
When their load's off, turn 'em to graze agen.
Sec. T. And may our wish have full effect,
Many a suit, and much neglect !
Third T. And as it hath been often found,
Let the clients' cups come round !
Sec. T. Help your poor kinsmen, when you ha' got
'em;
You may drink deep, leave us the bottom.
Third T. Or when there is a lamb fall'n in, 50
Take you the lamb, leave us the skin . 1 ^
Mich. T. Your duty and regard hath mov'd us ;
Never till now we thought you lov'd us.
Take comfort from our words, and make no doubt
You shall have suits come sixteen times about.
All Three. We humbly thank the patron of our hopes.
[Exeunt.
Mich. T. With what a vassal-appetite they gnaw
On our reversions, and are proud
Coldly to taste our meats, which eight returns
Serve in to us as courses ! 60
One day our writs, like wild-fowl, fly abroad,
And then return o'er cities, towns, and hills,
v 1 A punning allusion is intended (I suppose) to
tipple composed of ale and roasted apples.
218 Michaelmas Term.
With clients, like dried straws, between their bills ;
And 'tis no few birds pick to build their neasts, 1
Nor no small money that keeps drabs and feasts !
But, gentlemen, to spread myself open unto you, in
cheaper terms I salute you ; for ours have but sixpenny
fees all the year long ; yet we despatch you in two hours,
without demur ; your suits hang not long here after
candles be lighted. Why we call this play by such a
dear and chargeable title, Michaelmas Term, know it
consents happily to our purpose, though perhaps faintly
to the interpretation of many ; for he that expects any
great quarrels in law to be handled here will be fondly
deceived; this only presents those familiar accidents
which happened in town in the circumference of those
six weeks whereof Michaelmas Term is lord. Sat
sapienti: I hope there's no fools i' th' house. 78
[Exit with Boy.
1 ' ' i.e. nests — for the sake of the rhyme. So Brome :
' That the tipling feast,
With the Doxie in the neast,' &c.
A Jovial Crew, 1652 (acted 1641), sig. F. 4." — Dyce.
( 219 )
ACT I.
SCENE I.
The Middle Aisle of St. Paul's. 1
Enter Rearage meeting Salewood.
Sale. What, master Rearage ?
Rear. Master Salewood? exceedingly well met in
town. Comes your father up this term ?
Sale. Why, he was here three days before the Exche-
quer gaped.
Rear. Fie, such an early termer ?
Sale. He's not to be spoke withal ; I dare not ask him
blessing till the last of November.
Rear. And how looks thy little venturing cousin ?
Sale. Faith, like a lute that has all the strings broke ;
nobody will meddle with her. n
1 The place of action is not marked in the old eds. ; but it is plain
from the mention of the "bills" (p. 225), as Dyce pointed out, that the
scene takes place in the middle aisle of Paul's, where servants out of
employment came to find masters, and gossips to chatter. Dyce refers
to Every Man out of his Humour, i. 1. Cf. Earle's Characters : — " The
visitants are all men without exception, but the principal inhabitants
and possessors are stale knights and captains out of service ; men of
long rapiers and breeches, which after all turn merchants here and
traffic for news." — Paul's Walk.
220 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
Rear. Fie, there are doctors enow in town will string
her again, and make her sound as sweet as e'er she did.
Is she not married yet ?
Sale. Sh'as no luck; some may better steal a horse
than others look on : I have known a virgin of five
bastards wedded. Faith, when all's done, we must be
fain to marry her into the north, I'm afraid.
Rear. But will she pass so, think you ?
Sale. Pooh, anything that is warm enough is good
enough for them : so it come in the likeness, though the
devil be in't, they'll venture the firing. 22
Rear. They're worthy spirits, i'faith. Heard you the
news?
Sale. Not yet.
i Rear. Mistress Difficult is newly fallen a widow.
1 Sale. Say true ; is master Difficult, the lawyer, dead ?
Rear. Easily dead, sir.
Sale. Pray, when died he ?
Rear. What a question's that ! when should a lawyer
die but in the vacation ? he has no leisure to die in the
term-time ; beside, the noise there would fetch him again.
Sale. Knew you the nature of his disease ? 33
Rear. Faith, some say he died of an old grief he had,
that the vacation was fourteen weeks long.
Sale. And very likely : I knew 'twould kill him at last ;
't'as troubled him a long time. He was one of those
that would fain have brought in the heresy of a fifth
term ; often crying, with a loud voice, O why should we
lose Bartholomew week ? 40
Rear. He savours ; stop your nose ; no more of him.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 221
Enter Cockstone meeting Easy.
Cock. Young master Easy, let me salute you, sir.
When came you ?
Easy. I have but inn'd my horse since, master Cock-
stone.
Cock. You seldom visit London, master Easy ;
But now your father's dead, 'tis your only course :
Here's gallants of all sizes, of all lasts ;
Here you may fit your foot, make choice of those
Whom your affection may rejoice in.
Easy. You've easily possess'd 1 me, I am free : 5°
Let those live hinds that know not liberty !
Cock. Master Rearage ?
Easy. Good master Salewood, I am proud of your
society.
Rear. What gentleman might that be ?
Cock. One master Easy ; has good land in Essex ;
A fair, free-breasted gentleman, somewhat
Too open — bad in man, worse in woman,
The gentry-fault at first : — he is yet fresh,
And wants the city powdering. But what news ? 60
Is't yet a match 'twixt master Quomodo's
The rich draper's daughter and yourself?
Rear. Faith, sir, I am vildly rivall'd.
Cock. Vildly ? by whom ?
Rear. One Andrew Lethe, crept to a little warmth,
And now so proud that he forgets all storms ;
/,
Convinced.
222 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
One that ne'er wore apparel, but, like ditches,
'Twas cast before he had it ; now shines bright
;In rich embroideries. Him master Quomodo affects,
) The daughter him, the mother only me :
I rest most doubtful, my side being weakest. 7°
Cock, Yet the mother's side
Being surer than the father's, it may prove,
Men plead for money best, women for love.
Rear. 'Slid, master Quomodo !
Cock. How then ? afraid of a woollen-draper !
Rear. He warned me his house, and I hate he should
see me abroad. [They all retire.
Enter Quomodo, with his two spirits, Shortyard
and Falselight.
Quo. O my two spirits, Shortyard and Falselight,
you that have so enricht me ! I have industry for you
both. 80
Sho. Then do you please us best, sir.
Quo. Wealthy employment.
Sho. You make me itch, sir.
Quo. You, Falselight, as I have directed you —
Fal. I am nimble.
Quo. Go, make my coarse commodities look sleek ; 1
With subtle art beguile the honest eye :
Be near to my trap-window, cunning Falselight
Fal. I never fail'd it yet.
1 So ed. 2.— Ed. i ' ' looke, seeke. ''
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 223
Quo. I know thou didst not. — [Exit Falselight.
But now to thee, my true and secret Shortyard, 90
Whom I dare trust e'en with my wife ;
Thou ne'er didst mistress harm, but master good :
There are too few of thy name gentlemen,
And that we feel, but citizens abundance :
I have a task for thee, my pregnant spirit,
To exercise thy pointed wits upon.
Sho. Give it me, for I thirst.
Quo. Thine ear shall drink it.
Know, then, I have not spent this long vacation
Only for pleasure's sake : — give me the man
Who out of recreation culls advantage, 100
Dives into seasons, never walks but thinks,
Ne 1 rides but plots : — my journey was toward Essex
Sho. Most true.
Quo. Where I have seen what I desire.
Sho. A woman ?
Quo. Pooh, a woman ! yet beneath her,
That which she often treads on, yet commands her ;
Land, fair neat land.
Sho. What is the mark you shoot at ?
Quo. Why, the fairest to cleave the heir in twain,
I mean his title ; to murder his estate,
Stifle his right in some detested prison :
There are means and ways enow to hook in gentry, no
Besides our deadly enmity, which thus stands,
They're busy 'bout our wives, we 'bout their lands.
/ ; Old form of "Nor."
224 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
Sho. Your revenge is more glorious.
To be a cuckold is but for one life ;
When land remains to you, your heir, or wife.
Quo. Ah, sirrah, do we sting 'em ? This fresh gallant
Rode newly up before me.
Sho. I beseech his name.
Quo. Young master Easy.
Sho. Easy? it may fall right. 120
Quo. I have inquired his haunt — stay, — hah ! ay,
that 'tis, that's he, that's he !
Sho. Happily !
Quo. Observe, take surely note of him ; he's fresh and
free : shift thyself speedily into the shape of gallantry :
I'll swell thy purse with angels. Keep foot by foot with
him, outdare his expenses, flatter, dice, and brothel to
him ; give him a sweet taste of sensuality ; train him to
every wasteful sin, that he may quickly need health, but
especially money ; ravish him with a dame or two, — be
his bawd for once, I'll be thine for ever ; — drink drunk ]
with him, creep into bed to him, kiss him, and undo him,
my sweet spirit. 133
Sho. Let your care dwell in me ; soon shall it shine :
What subtilty's in man that is not mine ?
Quo. O my most cheerful spirit ! go, despatch.
[Exit Shortyard.
Gentry is the chief fish we tradesmen catch. [Exit.
Easy. What's here ?
/ * Cf. Samuel Rowlands' Letting of Humour's Blood in the Head
Vaine, 1600 : —
"Drink drunk in kindness for good fellowship." (Epigr, 7).
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 225
Sale. O, they are bills x for chambers.
Easy [reads]. Against St. Andrew's, at a painter's house,
there 's a fair chamber ready furnished to be let; the house
not only endued with a new fashion forepart, but, which is
more convenient for a gentleman, with a very provident back
door. !44
Sale. Why, here's virtue still : I like that thing that's
necessary as well as pleasant.
Cock. What news in yonder paper ?
Rear. Hah ! seek you for news ? there's for you !
Enter Lethe, who remains behind reading the bills.]
Sale. Who's this? 2
In the name of the black angels, Andrew Gruel ! 15°
Rear. No, Andrew Lethe.
Sale. Lethe?
Rear. Has forgot his father's name,
Poor Walter Gruel, that begot him, fed him,
And brought him up.
Sale. Not hither.
Rear. No ;
'Twas from his thoughts ; he brought him up below.
Sale. But does he pass for Lethe ?
Rear. 'Mongst strange eyes,
That no more know him than he knows himself, 160
That's nothing now ; for master Andrew Lethe,
A gentleman of most received parts,
Forgetfulness, lust, impudence, and falsehood, 1
^ 1 Advertisements. 2 Old eds. "tis."
VOL. I. P
226 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
And one especial courtly quality,
To wit, no wit at all. I am his rival
For Quomodo's daughter ; but he knows it not.
Sale. Has spied us o'er his paper.
Rear. O, that's a warning
To make our duties ready.
Cock. Salute him ? hang him !
Rear. Pooh, wish his health awhile ; he'll be laid
shortly :
Let him gorge venison for a time, our doctors 17°
Will bring him to dry mutton. Seem r espective , 1
To make his pride swell like a toad with dew.
[Lethe comes forward.
Sale. Master Lethe.
Rear. Sweet master Lethe.
Let. Gentlemen, your pardon ; I remember you not.
Sale. Why, we supt with you last night, sir.
Let. O, cry you mercy ! 'tis so long ago,
I'd quite forgot you ; I must be forgiven.
Acquaintance, dear society, suits, and things,
Do so flow to me, 180
That had I not the better memory,
'T would be a wonder I should know myself.
Esteem is made of such a dizzy metal ;
I have receiv'd of many gifts o'er night,
Whom I've forgot ere morning : meeting the men,
I wish'd 'em to remember me agen :
They do so ; then if I forget agen,
/
Respectful.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 227
I know what help'd before, that will help then :
This is my course ; for memory I've been told
Twenty preserves ; the best I find is gold ; 19°
Ay, truly ! Are you not knights yet, gentlemen ?
Sale. Not yet.
Let. No? that must be looked into; 'tis your own
fault. I have some store of venison : where shall we
devour it, gentlemen ?
Sale. The Horn were a fit place.
Let. For venison fit :
The horn having chas'd it,
At the Horn we'll
Rhyme to that ? 2 °°
Cock. Taste it.
Sale. Waste it.
Rear. Cast 1 it.
Let. That's the true rhyme indeed ! we hunt our venison
twice, I tell you ; first out a' th' park, next out a' th'
belly.
Cock. First dogs take pains to make it fit for men,
Then men take pains 2 to make it fit for dogs.
Let. Right.
Cock. Why, this [is] kindness ; a kind gallant you, 210
And love to give the dogs more than their due :
We shall attend you, sir.
Let. I pray do so.
Sale. The Horn.
/ n Vomit.
^- " So ed. 2. — Ed. i "payne."
228 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
Let. Easily remember'd that, you know.
[Exeunt all except Lethe.
But now unto my present business. The daughter yields,
i and Quomodo consents ; only my mistress Quomodo,
her mother, without regard runs full against me, and
sticks hard. Is there no law for a woman that will run
upon a man at her own apperil ? 1 Why should not she
consent, knowing my state, my sudden fortunes ? I can
command a custard, and other bake-meats, death of.
sturgeon : 2 I could keep house with nothing. What
friends have I ! how well am I beloved ! e'en quite
throughout the scullery. Not consent? 'tis e'en as I
have writ : I'll be hanged, and she love me not herself,
and would rather preserve me, as a private friend, to her
own pleasures, than any way advance her daughter upon
me to beguile herself. Then how have I relieved her in
that point? let me peruse this letter. [Heads] — Good
mistress Quomodo, or rather, as I hope ere the term end,
mother Quomodo, since only your consent keeps aloif off, 3
and hinders the copulation of your daughter, what may I
think, but that it is a mere affection in you, doating upon
some small inferior virtue of mine, to draw me in upon
yourself ? If the case stand so, I have comfort for you ; for
J i Peril.
f 2 The text seems corrupt. Perhaps we should read "Death of
sturgeon ! I could keep house,' ' &c. — taking the words " Death of
sturgeon ! " as a kind of silly half-oath ; for which compare Marston's
Fawn, ii. i : —
"As for me, why, death a sense,
I court the lady ! "
{ 3 So in iii. i :—" Since only her consent kept aloof off" &c.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 229
this you may well assure yourself, that by the marriage of
your daughter I have the better means and opportunity to
yourself, and without the least suspicion. — This is moving
stuff, and that works best with a citizen's wife : but who
shall I get to convey this now ? My page I ha' lent
forth ; my pander I have employed about the country to
look out some third sister, or entice some discontented
gentlewoman from her husband, whom the laying out
of my appetite shall maintain. Nay, I'll deal like an
honourable gentleman, I'll be kind to women ; that which
I gather i' th' day, I'll put into their purses at night.
You shall have no cause to rail at me ; no, faith : I'll ]
keep you in good fashion, ladies ; no meaner men than
knights shall ransom home your gowns and recover your
smocks : I'll- not dally with you. — Some 1 poor widow
woman would come as a necessary bawd now ! and see
where fitly comes — 2 S 2
Enter Mother Gruel.
my mother ! Curse of poverty ! does she come up to
shame me, to betray my birth, and cast soil upon my new
suit ? Let her pass me ; I'll take no notice of her, —
scurvy murrey kersey ! 2
Moth. G. By your leave, and like your worship
Let. Then I must proudly venture it. — To me, good
woman ?
Moth. G. I beseech one word with your worship. 260
1 i.e. Would that some, &c.
/ 2 Dyce in his "Addenda " quotes from the Two Merry Milk Maids,
1620 : — " Foolish scurvy, coarse kersey, dirty-tail'd dangling dug-cow."
230 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
Let. Prithee, be brief then.
Moth. G. Pray, can your worship tell me any tidings
of one Andrew Gruel, a poor son of mine own ?
Let. I know a gallant gentleman of the name, one
master Andrew Gruel, and well received amongst ladies.
Moth. G. That's not he, then : he is no gentleman that
I mean.
Let. Good woman, if he be a Gruel, he's a gentleman
i' th' mornings, that's a gentleman a' th' first ; you cannot
tell me. 2 7°
Moth. G. No, truly ; his father was an honest, upright
tooth-drawer.
Let. O my teeth !
Moth. G. An't please your worship, I have made a
sore journey out, all this vacant time, to come up and see
my son Andrew. Poor Walter Gruel, his father, has laid
his life, and left me a lone ^woman ; I have not one husband
in all the world : therefore my coming up is for relief,
an't like your worship, hoping that my son Andrew is in
some place about the kitchen. 28 °
Let. Kitchen ! pooh, faugh !
Moth. G. Or a serving-man to some knight of worship.
Let. O, let me not endure her ! \Aside^\ — Know you
not me, good woman ?
Moth. G. Alas, an't please your worship, I never saw
such a glorious suit since the hour I was kersened. 1
Let. Good, she knows me not; my glory does dis-
guise 2 me;
Beside, my poorer name being drench'd in Lethe,
v^ 1 Christened. ^ a Old eds. "disguire."
scene i. ] Michaelmas Term. 231
She'll hardly understand me. What a fresh air can do !
I may employ her as a private drudge, 29°
To pass my letters and secure my lust ;
And ne'er be noted mine, to shame my blood,
And drop my staining birth upon my raiment. — [Aside.
Faith, good woman, you will hardly get to the speech of
master Andrew, I tell you.
Moth. G. No ? marry, hang him ! and like your wor-
ship, I have known the day when nobody cared to speak
to him.
Let. You must take heed how you speak ill of him, I
can tell you, now ; he's so employed. 3°°
Moth. G. Employed ? for what ?
Let. For his 'haviour, wisdom, and other virtues.
Moth. G. He, virtues? no, 'tis well known his father
was too poor a man to bring him up to any virtues ; he
can scarce write and read.
Let. He's the better regarded for that amongst courtiers,
for that's but a needy quality.
Moth. G. If it be so, then he'll be great shortly, for
he has no good parts about him.
Let. Well, good woman, or mother, or what you
will-*— 3»
Moth. G. Alack the day ! I know your worship scorns
to call me mother ; 'tis not a thing fit for your worship
indeed, such a simple old woman as I am.
Let. In pity of thy long journey, there's sixpence
British : tend upon me ; I have business for you.
Moth. G. I'll wait upon your worship.
Let. Two pole off at least.
232 Michaelmas Term. [acti.
Moth. G. I am a clean old woman, an't like your
worship. 3 2 °
Z/ x Brentford. — A noted place for assignations.
2 It was a very common practice (not yet extinct) for money-lenders
* to force a client to take a part of the sum he wanted to borrow in
goods (commodities), — brown paper, lute strings, pins, &c. "If he
254 Michaelmas Term, [act h.
Easy. Why, la ! by my troth, 'twas kindly spoken.
Quo. Two hundred pounds' worth, upon my religion,
say.
Sho. So disastrously !
Easy. Nay, master Blastfield, you do not hear what
master Quomodo said since, like an honest, true citizen,
i'faith; rather than you should grow diseased 1 upon't,
you shall take up a commodity of two hundred pounds'
worth of cloth. ' 202
Sho. The mealy moth consume it ! would he ha' me
turn pedlar now ? what should I do with cloth ?
Quo. He's a very wilful gentleman at this time, i'faith :
he knows as well what to do with it as I myself, i-wis. 2
There's no merchant in town but will be greedy upon't,
and pay down money upo' th' nail ; they'll despatch it
over to Middleburgh presently, and raise double commo-
dity by exchange : if not, you know 'tis term time, and
Michaelmas term too, the drapers' harvest for foot-cloths, 3
riding-suits, walking-suits, chamber-gowns, and hall-
gowns. 2I3
borrow an hundred pounds, he shall have forty in silver, and three score
in wares, as lute strings, hobby horses, or brown paper." — Greene's
Quip for an Upstart Courtier. Nashe, in Christ 's Tears over Jeru-
salem, inveighs bitterly against the practice : — " This I will prove, that
never in any city (since the first assembly of societies), was ever
suffered such notorious cozenage and villany as is shrouded under this
seventy-fold usury of commodities. It is a hundred times more hateful
than coney-catching: it is the nurse of sins, without the which the
fire of them all would be extinguished and want matter to feed on."
/ 1 Uneasy, troubled.
,/ 2 Assuredly.
, * See note, p. 196.
scene in.] Michaelmas Term. 255
Easy. Nay, I'll say that, it comes in as fit a time as
can be.
Quo. Nay, t ake me with you 1 again ere you go, sir : I
offer him no trash, tell him, but present money, say :
where I know some gentlemen in town ha' been glad,
and are glad at this time, to take up commodities in
hawks' hoods and brown paper. 220'
Easy. O horrible ! are there such fools in town ?
Quo. I offer him no trash, tell him ; upon my religion,
you may say. — Now, my sweet Shortyard; now the
hungry fish begins to nibble ; one end of the worm is in
his mouth, i'faith. [Aside.
Tho. Why stand I here (as late our graceless dames, 2
That found no eyes), to see that gentleman
Al ive, i n state and credit, executed,
Help to rip up himself does all he can ?
Why am I wife to him that is no man ?
I suffer in that gentleman's confusion. [Aside. 231
Easy. Nay, be persuaded in that, master Blastfield ;
'tis ready money at the merchant's : beside, the winter
season and all falls in as pat as can be to help it.
Sho. Well, master Easy, none but you could have per-
suaded me to that. — Come, would you would despatch
then, master Quomodo : where's this cloth ?
Quo. Full and whole within, all of this piece, of my
^ ! "Take me with you "^understand me.
, 2 "The allusion here is probably to the execution of Sir Everard
' Digby, who, for his share in the gunpowder plot, was drawn, hanged,
and quartered, at the west end of St. Paul's Church, 30th January 1606:
see Stow's Annates, p. 882, ed. 1631."— Dyce.
256 Michaelmas Term. [act h.
religion, master Blastfield. Feel't ; nay, feel't, and spare
not, gentlemen, your fingers and your judgment. 240
Sho. Cloth's good.
Easy. By my troth, exceeding good cloth; a good
wale 1 't'as.
Quo. Falselight.
Fal. I'm ne'er out a' the shop, sir.
Quo. Go, call in a porter presently, carry away the
cloth with the star-mark. — Whither will you please to
have it carried, master Blastfield ?
Sho. Faith, to master Beggarland, he's the only
merchant now; or his brother, master Stilliarddown ;
there's little difference. 251
Quo. You've happened upon the money-men, sir;
they and some of their brethren, I can tell you, will not
stick to offer thirty thousand pound to be cursed still :
great monied men, their stocks lie in the poors' throats.
But you'll see me sufficiently discharged, master Blastfield,
ere you depart ?
Sho. You have always found me righteous in that.
Quo. Falselight.
Fal. Sir? . 260
Quo. You may bring a scrivener along with you.
Fal. I'll remember that, sir. [Exit.
Quo. Have you sent for a citizen, master Blastfield ?
Sho. No, faith, not yet. — Boy.
Easy. What must you do with a citizen, sir ?
Sho. A custom they're bound to'a' late by the default
/ 1 The ridge of threads in cloths ; the texture.
scene in.] ' Michaelmas Term. 257
of evil debtors ; no citizen must lend money without two
be bound in the bond ; the second man enters but for
custom sake.
Easy. No ? and must he needs be a citizen ? 270
Sho. By th' mass, stay; I'll learn that. — Master Quo-
modo
Quo. Sir?
Sho. Must the second party, that enters into bond only
for fashion's sake, needs be a citizen ? what say you to
this gentleman for one ?
Quo. Alas, sir ! you know he's a mere stranger to me :
I neither am sure of his going or abiding ; he may inn
here to-night, and ride away to-morrow : although I
grant the chief burden lies upon you, yet we are bound
to make choice of those we know, sir. 281
Sho. Why, he's a gentleman of a pretty living, sir.
Quo. It may be so ; yet, under both your pardons, I'd
rather have a citizen.
Easy. I hope you will not disparage me so : 'tis well
known I have three hundred pound a-year in Essex.
Sho. Well said ; to him thyself, take him up roundly.
Easy. And how doubtfully soe'er you account of me,
I do not think but I might make my bond pass for a
hundred pound i' th' city. 290
Quo. What, alone, sir?
Easy. Alone, sir? who says so? perhaps I'd send
down for a tenant or two.
Quo. Ay, that's another case, sir.
Easy. Another case let it be then.
Quo. Nay, grow not into anger, sir.
vol. 1. R
258 Michaelmas Term. [act n.
Easy. Not take me into a bond ! as good as you shall,
goodman goosecap.
Quo. Well, master Blastfield, because I will not dis-
grace the gentleman, I'm content for once ; but we must
not make a practice on't. 301
Easy. No, sir, now you would, you shall not.
Quo. Cuds me, I'm undone ! he's gone again. [Aside.
Sho. The net's broke. [Aside.
Tho. Hold there, dear gentleman ! [Aside.
Easy. Deny me that small courtesy ! 'S foot, a very
Jew will not deny it me.
Sho. Now must I catch him warily. [Aside.
Easy. A jest indeed ! not take me into a bond, quo'
they. 310
Sho. Master Easy, mark my words : if it stood not upon
the eternal loss of thy credit against supper
Easy. Mass, that's true.
Sho. The pawning of thy horse for his own victuals
Easy. Right, i'faith.
Sho. And thy utter dissolution amongst gentlemen for
ever
Easy. Pox on't !
Sho. Quomodo should hang, rot, stink
Quo. Sweet boy, i'faith ! [Aside. 320
Sho. Drop, damn.
Quo. Excellent Shortyard ! [Aside.
Easy. I forgot all this : what meant I to swagger before
I had money in my purse ? — How does master Quomodo?
is the bond ready ?
Quo. O sir !
scene in.] Michaelmas Term. 259
Enter Dustbox. i
Easy. Come, we must be friends ; here's my hand.
Quo. Give it the scrivener : here he comes.
Dust. Good day, master Quomodo; good morrow,
gentlemen. 33 o
Quo. We must require a little aid from your pen, good
master Dustbox.
Dust. Whatbethegentlemen'snamesthatarebound, sir?
Quo. [while Dustbox writes']. Master John Blastfield,
esquire, i' th' wild 1 of Kent : and — what do they call
your bedfellow's name ?
Sho. Master Richard Easy ; you may easily hit on't.
Quo. Master Richard Easy, of Essex, gentleman, both
bound to Ephestian Quomodo, citizen and draperj~of
Condon ; the sum, two hundred pound. — What time do
you take, master Blastfield, for the payment ? 341
Sho. I never pass my month, you know.
Quo. I know it, sir: October sixteenth to-day; six-
teenth of November, say.
Easy. Is it your custom to return so soon, sir ?
Sho. I never miss you.
Enter Falselight, disguised as a Porter, sweating.
Fal I am come for the rest of the same piece, 2 master
Quomodo.
y' 1 i.e. Weald of Kent. Cf. the ballad of The fortunate sailor and
the farmers daughter in De Vaynes' Kentish Garland, p. 177 : —
' ' A sailor courted a Farmer's Daughter,
Whose living was in the Wild of Kent."
f 2 Old eds. " price. " The emendation was suggested by Dyce.
260 Michaelmas Term. ■ [actii.
Quo. Star-mark ; this is it : are all the rest gone ?
Fal. They're all at master Stilliarddown's by this time.
Easy. How the poor rascal's all in a froth ! 351
Sho. Push, 1 they're ordained to sweat for gentlemen :
porters' backs and women's bellies bear up the world.
[Exit Falselight with the remainder of the cloth.
Easy. 'Tis true, i'faith ; they bear men and money,
and that's the world.
Sho. You've found it, sir.
Dust. I'm ready to your hands, gentlemen.
Sho. Come, master Easy.
Easy. I beseech you, sir.
Sho. It shall be yours, I say. 360
Easy. Nay, pray, master Blastfield.
Sho. I will not, i'faith.
Easy. What do you mean, sir ?
Sho. I should show little bringing up, to take the way
of a stranger.
Easy. By my troth, you do yourself ■ wrong though,
master Blastfield.
Sho. Not a whit, sir.
Easy. But to avoid strife, you shall have your will of
me for once. 370
Sho. Let it be so, I pray.
Quo. [white Easy signs the bond]. Now I begin to set
one foot upon the land : methinks I am felling of trees
already : we shall have some Essex logs yet to keep
Christmas with, and that's a comfort.
J
1 Pish.
scene in.] Michaelmas Term. 261
Tho. Now is he quartering out; the executioner
Strides over him : with his own blood he writes :
I am no dame that can endure such sights.
[Aside, and exit above.
Sho. So, his right wing is cut ; will not fly far
Past the two city hazards, Poultry and Wood Street. 1
[Aside.
Easy. How like you my Roman hand, i'faith ? 381
Bust. Exceeding well, sir, but that you rest too much
upon your R, and make your ease too little.
Easy. I'll mend that presently.
Dust. Nay, 'tis done now, past mending. [Shortyard
signs the bond.] — You both deliver this to master Quo-
modo as your deed ?
Sho. We do, sir.
Quo. I thank you, gentlemen.
Sho. Would the coin would come away now ! we have
deserved for't. 39I
Re-enter Falselight disguised as before?
Fal. By your leave a little, gentlemen.
Sho. How now ? what's the matter ? speak.
Fal. As fast as I can, sir : all][the cloth's come back
again.
Quo. How?j
Sho. What's the news ?
Fal. The passage to Middleburgh is stopt, and there-
•* 1 The counter prisons in the Poultry and Wood Street.
2 Old eds. "with the cloath. "
202 Michaelmas Term. [actu.
fore neither master Stilliarddown nor master Beggarland,
nor any other merchant, will deliver present money
upon't. 401
Quo. Why, what hard luck have you, gentlemen !
{Exit Falselight.
Easy. Why, master Blastfield !
Sho. Pish !
Easy. You're so discontented too presently, a man
cannot tell how to speak to you.
Sho. Why, what would you say ?
Easy. We must make somewhat on't now, sir.
Sho. Ay, where? how? the best is, it lies all upon
my neck. — Master Quomodo, can you help me to any
money for't? speak. 411
Quo. Troth, master Blastfield, since myself is so un-
furnished, I know not the means how : there's one i' th'
street, a new setter up ; if any lay out money upon't,
'twill be he.
Sho. His name ?
Quo. Master Idem : but you know we cannot give but
greatly to your loss, because we gain and live by't.
Sho. 'S foot, will he give anything ?
Easy. Ay, stand upon that. 420
Sho. Will he give anything? the brokers will give
nothing : to no purpose.
Quo. Falselight.
Re-enter Falselight above.
Fal. Over your head, sir.
scene in.] Michaelmas Term. 263
Quo. Desire master Idem to come presently, and look
upo' th' cloth.
Fal. I will, sir. [Exit above.
Sho. What if he should offer but a hundred pound ?
Easy. If he want twenty on't, let's take it.
Sho. Say you so ?
Easy. Master Quomodo, he l will have four or five
hundred pound for you of his own within three or four
days. 432
Enter Thomasine.
Sho. Tis true, he said so indeed.
Easy. Is that your wife, master Quomodo ?
Quo. That's she, little Thomasine.
Easy. Under your leave, sir, I'll show myself a gentle-
man.
Quo. Do, and welcome, master Easy.
Easy. I have commission for what I do, lady, from
your husband. [Kisses her. 440
Tho. You may have a stronger commission for the
next, an't please you, that's from myself.
Enter Sim.
Easy. You teach me the best law, lady.
Tho. Beshrew my blood, a proper springall 2 and a
sweet gentleman. [Aside, and exit.
Quo. My son, Sim Quomodo : — here's more work for
1 i.e. Quomodo. — So ed. 2 ; ed. 1 " we."
S 3 So Dyce for "proper, springfull" of the old eds. " Springall " =
youth : ' ' probably from the old French, in which espringatter or
springaller means to leap, dance, or sport." — Nares.
264 Michaelmas Term. [acth.
you, mas.ter Easy; you must salute him too,— for he's
like to be heir of thy land, I can tell thee. [Aside.
Sim. Vim, vitam, spemque salutem.
Quo. He shows you there he was a Cambridge man,
sir ; but now he's a Templar : has he not good grace to
make a lawyer ? 452
Easy. A very good grace to make a lawyer.
Sho. For inde'ed he has no grace at all. [Aside.
Quo. Some gave me counsel to make him a
divine
Easy. Fie, fie.
Quo. But some of our livery think it an unfit thing,
that our own sons should tell us of our vices : others
to make him a physician ; but then, being my heir, I'm
afraid he would make me away : now, a lawyer they're
all willing to, because 'tis good for our trade, and in-
creaseth the number of cloth gowns ; and indeed 'tis the
fittest for a citizen's son, for our word is, What do ye
lack ? and their word is, What do you give ? 465
Easy. Exceeding proper.
Re-enter Falselight disguised as Idem.
Quo. Master Idem, welcome.
Fal. I have seen the cloth, sir.
Quo. Very well.
Fal. I am but a young setter up ; the uttermost I
dare venture upon't is threescore pound. 471
Sho. What?
Fal. If it be for me so, I am for it ; if not, you have
your cloth, and I have my money.
scene in.] Michaelmas Term. 265
Easy. Nay, pray, master Blastfield, refuse not his kind
offer.
Sho. A bargain then, master Idem, clap hands. — He's
finely cheated ! [Aside.] — Come, let's all to the next
tavern and see the money paid.
Easy. A match. 480
Quo. I follow you, gentlemen ; take my son along
with you. [Exeunt all but Quomodo.J — Now to my
keys : I'm master Idem, he 1 must fetch the money.
First have I caught him in a bond for two hundred
pound, and my two hundred pounds' worth a' cloth again
for threescore pound. Admire me, all you students at
inns of cozenage. [Exit.
1 i.e. he who.
( 266 )
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Country Wench's Lodging.
The Country Wench x discovered, dressed gentlewoman-like,
in a new-fashioned gown : the Tailor joints} it ; while
Mistress Comings, a tirewoman^ is busy about her
head : Hellgill looking on.
Hell. You talk of an alteration : here's the thing itself.
What base birth does not raiment make glorious ? and
what glorious births do not rags make infamous ? Why
should not a woman confess what she is now, since the
finest are but deluding shadows, begot between tirewomen
and tailors ? for instance, behold their parents !
Mis. C. Say what you will, this wire becomes you
best. — How say you, tailor?
Tai. I promise you 'tis a wire would draw me from my
work seven days a- week. 10
1 "To her speeches in this scene, and in all the subsequent scenes
where she appears, is prefixed ' Curt' i.e. courtesan ; and in the stage-
direction safter this scene she is called ' Courtesan' or 'Harlot.'" — Dyce.
v 2 Ties the laces. — Millinery was formerly an occupation of men.
J 3 One who arranged the head-dresses of ladies.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 267
Coun. W. Why, do you work a' Sundays, tailor ?
Tat. Hardest of all a' Sundays, because we are most
forbidden.
Coun. W. Troth, and so do most of us women ; the
better day the better deed, we think.
Mis. C. Excellent, exceeding, i' faith ! a narrow-eared
wire sets out a cheek so fat and so full : and if you be
ruled by me, you shall wear your hair still like a mock-
face behind : 'tis such an Italian world, many men know
not before from behind. 20
Tat. How like you the sitting of this gown now,
mistress Comings ?
Mis. C. It sits at marvellous good ease and comely
discretion.
Hell. Who would think now this fine sophisticated
sjjuallj came out of the bosom of a barn, and the loins
of a hay-tosser ?
Coun. W. Out, you saucy, pestiferous pander ! I scorn
that, i'faith.
Hell. Excellent ! already the true phrase and style of
a strumpet. Stay ; a little more of the red, and then I
take my leave of your cheek for four and twenty hours. —
Do you not think it impossible that her own father
should know her now, if he saw her ? 34
Coun. W. Why, I think no less : how can he know me,
when I scarce know myself?
Hell. Tis right.
/ J " Obeseau, a young minx or little proud squall." — Cotgrave. We
have had the word squall on p. 232 as a term of endearment.
268 Michaelmas Term. [actih.
Coun. IV. But so well you lay wait for a man for me !
Hell. I protest I have bestowed much labour about it ;
and in fit time, good news I hope. 40 ■
Enter Hellgill's Servant 1 bringing in the Country
Wench's Father disguised?
Ser. I've found one yet at last, in whose preferment I
hope to reap credit.
Coun. W. Is that the fellow ?
Ser. Lady, it is.
Coun. W. Art thou willing to serve me, fellow ?
Fath. So please you, he that has not the heart to serve
such a mistress as your beautiful self, deserves to be
honoured for a fool or knighted for a coward.
Coun. W. There's too many of them already. 3
Fath. 'Twere sin then to raise the number. 50
Coun. W. Well, we'll try both our likings for a month,
and then either proceed or let fall the suit.
Fath. Be it as you have spoke, but 'tis my hope
A longer term.
Coun. W. No, truly ; our term ends once a-month :
we should get more than the lawyers, for they have but
four terms a-year, and we have twelve, and that makes
'em run so fast to us in the vacation.
Fath. A mistress of a choice beauty ! Amongst such
imperfect creatures I ha' not seen a perfecter. I should
1 Oldeds. "One."
iy/ 2 So Friscobaldo in the Honest Whore disguises himself and acts as
servant to his daughter.
3 See note, p. 135.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 269
have reckoned the fortunes of my daughter among the
happiest, had she lighted into such a service • whereas ,
now I rest doubtful whom or where she serves. [Aside.
Coun. W. There's for your bodily advice, tailor ; and
there's for your head-counsel [giving money to the Tailor
and to Mistress Comings] ; and I discharge you both
till to-morrow morning again. 67
Tai. At which time our neatest attendance.
3£s. C. I pray, have an especial care, howsoever you
stand or lie, that nothing fall upon your hair to batter (
your wire.
Coun. W. I warrant you for that. [Exit Mis. C. with
Tailor.'] — Which gown becomes me best now, the purple
satin or this ?
Hell. If my opinion might rule over you
Enter Lethe, Rearage, and Salewood.
Let. Come, gallants, I'll bring you to a beauty shall \
strike your eyes into yout hearts : what you see, you shall
desire, yet never enjoy.
Rear. And that's a villanous torment.
1 Sale. And is she but your underput, master Lethe ? 80 •.
Let. No more, of my credit ; and a gentlewoman of a
great house, noble parentage, unmatchable education, my
plain pung . 1 I may grace her with ' the name of a
courtesan, a backslider, a prostitution, or such a toy;
but when all comes to all, 'tis but a plain pung. Look
you, gentlemen, that's she ; behold her !
y x A variant (I suppose) of " punk."
270 Michaelmas Term. [act in.
Coun. W. O my beloved strayer! I consume in thy
absence. 88
Let. La, you now ! You shall not say I'll be proud to
you, gentlemen; I give you leave to salute her. — I'm
afraid of nothing now, but that she'll utterly-disgrace 'em,
turn tail to 'em, and place their kisses behind her. No,
by my faith, she deceives me ; by my troth, sh'as kissed
'em both with her lips. I thank you for that music,
masters. 'Slid, they both court her at once ; and see, if
she ha' not the wit to stand still and let 'em ! I think
if two men were brewed into one, there is that woman
would drink 'em up both. [Aside.
Rear. A coxcomb ! he a courtier ? 99
Coun. W. He says he has a place there.
Sale. So has the fool, a better place than he, and can
come where he dare not show his head.
Let. Nay, hear you me, gentlemen
Sale. I protest you were the last man we spoke on ;
we're a little busy yet ; pray, stay there awhile; we'll come
to you presently.
Let. This is good, i'faith : endure this, and be a slave
for ever ! Since you neither savour of good breeding nor
bringing up, I'll slice your hamstrings, but I'll make you
show mannerly. [Aside.] — Pox on you, leave courting:
I ha' not the heart to hurt an Englishman, i'faith or
else 112
Sale. What else?
Let. Prithee, let's be merry ; nothing else. — Here, fetch
some wine.
Coun. W. Let my servant go for't.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 271
Let. Yours ? which is he ?
Fath. 1 This, sir. — But I scarce like my mistress now :
the loins can ne'er be safe where the flies be so busy.
Wit, by experience bought, foils wit at school : 120
Who proves a deeper knave than a spent fool ? [Aside.
I am gone for your worship's wine, sir. [Exit.
Hell., Sir, you put up too much indignity ; bring com-
pany to cut your own throat. The fire is not yet so hot,
that you need two screens before it ; 'tis but new kindled
yet : if 'twere rjsse 2 to a flame, I could not blame you
then to put others before you ; but, alas, all the heat yet
is comfortable ; a cherisher, not a defacer !
Let. Prithee, let 'em alone; they'll be ashamed on't
anon, I trow, if they have any grace in 'em. 130
Hell. I'd fain have him quarrel, fight, and be assuredly
killed, that I might beg his place, for there's ne'er a one
void yet. [Aside.
Enter Shortyard and Easy.
Coun. W. You'll make him mad anon.
Sale. 'Tis to that end.
Sho. Yet at last master Quomodo is as firm as his
promise.
Easy. Did I not tell you still he would ?
Sho. Let me see ; I am seven hundred pound in bond
now to the rascal. 140
Easy. Nay, you're no less, master Blastfield ; look to't.
1 Oldeds. "Sho."
/ 2 A common form of " risen " (which is the reading of ed. a).
272 Michaelmas Term. [act m.
By my troth, I must needs confess, sir, you ha' been
uncommonly kind to me since I ha' been in town : but
master Alsup shall know on't.
Sho. That's my ambition, sir.
Easy. I beseech you, sir, —
Stay, this is Lethe's haunt ; see, we have catch'd him.
Let. Master Blastfield and master Easy ? you're kind
gentlemen both.
Sho. Is that the beauty you famed so ? 150
Let. The same.
Sho. Who be those so industrious about her ?
Let. Rearage and Salewood : I'll tell you the unman-
nerliest trick of 'em that ever you heard in your life.
Sho. Prithee, what's that ?
Let. I invited 'em hither to look upon her ; brought
'em along with me ; gave 'em leave to salute her in kind-
ness : what do they but most saucily fall in love with her,
very impudently court her for themselves, and, like two
crafty attorneys, finding a hole in my lease, go about to
defeat me of my right ? 161
Sho. Ha' they so little conscience ?
Let. The most uncivilest part that you have seen ! I
know they'll be sorry for't when they have done; for
there's no man but gives a sigh after his sin of women ;
I know it by myself.
Sho. You parcel of a rude, saucy, and unmannerly
nation
Let. One good thing in him, he'll tell 'em on't roundly.
[Aside.
Sho. Cannot a gentleman purchase a little fire to thaw
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 273
his appetite by, but must you, that have been daily singed
in the flame, be as greedy to beguile him on't ? How
can it appear in you but maliciously, and that you go
about to engross hell to yourselves ? heaven forbid that
you should not suffer a stranger to come in ! the devil
himself is not so unmannerly. I do not think but some
of them rather will be wise enough to beg offices there
before you, and keep you out ; marry, all the spite will
be, they cannot sell 'em again. iy 9
Easy. Come, are you not to blame ? not to give place, —
To us, I mean.
Let. A worse and a worse disgrace !
Coun. W. Nay, gentlemen, you wrong us both then :
stand from me; I protest I'll draw my silver bodkin
upon you.
Sho. Clubs, clubs ! * — Gentlemen, stand upon your
guard.
Coun. W. A gentlewoman must swagger a little now
and then, I perceive ; there would be no civility in her
chamber else. Though it be my hard fortune to have
my keeper there a coward, the thing that's kept is a
gentlewoman born. 192
Sho. And, to conclude, a coward, infallible of your
side : why do you think, i'faith, I took you to be a coward ?
do I think you'll turn your back to any man living? '
you'll be whipt first.
Easy. And then indeed she turns her back to some
man living.
v 1 "Clubs" was originally the popular cry to call out the apprentices
when any disturbance arose.
VOL. I. S
274 Michaelmas Term. [actih.
Sho. But that man shows himself a knave, for he dares
not show his own face when he does it ; for some of the
common council in Henry the Eighth's days thought it
modesty at that time that one vizzard should look upon
another. 203
Easy. 'Twas honestly considered of 'em, i'faith.
Enter Mother Gruel.
Sho. How now? what piece of stuff 1 comes here?
Let. Now, some good news yet to recover my repute,
and grace me in this company. [Aside.] — Gentlemen,
are we friends among ourselves ?
Sho. United.
Re-enter Father with wine.
Let. Then here comes Rhenish to confirm our amity.
— ^Wagtailj 2 salute them all ; they are friends. 21 1
Coun. W. Then, saving my quarrel, to you all.
Sho. To's all. [They drink.
Coun. W. Now beshrew your hearts, and you do not.
Sho. To sweet master Lethe.
Let. Let it flow this way, dear master Blastfield. —
Gentlemen, to you all.
Sho. This Rhenish wine is like the scouring stick to a
gun, it makes the barrel clear ; it has an excellent virtue,
it keeps all the sinks in man and woman's body sweet in
I June and July ; and, to say truth, if ditches were not cast
/ 1 " Buonarobba, as we say good stuffe, &c."—Florio.
/ 2 A common term of endearment.
scene i.] Michaelmas Term. 275
once a-year, and drabs once a-month, there would be no
abiding i' th' city. 223
Let. Gentlemen, I'll make you privy to a letter I sent.
Sho. A letter comes well after privy ; it makes amends.
Let. There's one Quomodo a draper's daughter in
town, whom for her happy portion I wealthily affect.
Rear. And not for love ?— This makes for me his rival :
Bear witness. [To Salewood. !
Let. The father does elect me for the man, 230
The daughter says the same.
Sho. Are you not well ?
Let. Yes, all but for the mother ; she's my sickness.
Sho. Byrlady, and the mother 1 is a pestilent, wilful,
troublesome sickness, I can tell you, if she light upon
you handsomely.
Let. I find it so : she for a stranger pleads,
Whose name I ha' not learn'd.
Rear. And e'en now he called me by it. [Aside.
Let. Now, as my letter told her, since only her consent
kept aloof off, 2 what might I think on't but that she
merely 3 doted upon me herself? 242
Sho. Very assuredly.
Sale. This makes still for you.
Sho. Did you let it go so, i'faith ?
Let. You may believe it, sir. — Now, what says her
answer ?
Sho. Ay, her answer.
» 1 Hysterical fit. 2 See note 3, p. 228.
Sho. So, no man is so impudent to deny that : spirits
can change their shapes, and soonest of all into sergeants,
because they are cousin-germans to spirits; for there's
but two kind of arrests till doomsday, — the devil for
the soul, the sergeant for the body; but afterward the
devil arrests body and soul, sergeant and all, if they be
knaves still and deserve it. Now, my yeoman Falselight.
Fal. I attend you, good sergeant Shortyard.
Sho. No more master Blastfield now. Poor Easy,
hardly beset ! 10
Fal. But how if he should go to prison ? we're in a
mad state then, being not sergeants.
Sho. Never let it come near thy belief that he'll take
prison, or stand out in law, knowing the debt to be due,
but still expect the presence of master Blastfield, kind
v master Blastfield, worshipful master Blastfield; and at
the last
280 Michaelmas Term. [actiu.
Boy. [within]. Master Shortyard, master Falselight !
Sho. The boy ? a warning-piece. See where he comes.
Enter Easy and Boy.
Easy. Is not in Paul's. 20
2?
But I was glad more quickly to resign.
Jud. Craft once discover'd shows her abject line.
Quo. He hits me everywhere ; for craft once known
Does teach fools wit, leaves the deceiver none.
My deeds have cleft me, cleft me ! [Aside.
Enter Officers with Lethe and the Country Wench;
Rearage, Susan, Salewood, Hellgill, and
Mother Gruel.
First Off. Room there.
Quo. A little yet to raise my spirit,
Here master Lethe comes to wed my daughter :
That's all the joy is left me. — Hah ! who's this ?
Jud. What crimes have those brought forth ?
Sale. 1 The shame of lust : I00
Most viciously on this his wedding morning
This man was seiz'd in shame with that bold strumpet.
1 "Old eds. 'Gent. : ' for which I have substituted Salewood, who,
as we may gather from act iii. so. 5, was privy to the design of exposing
Lethe." — Dyce.
VOL. J, X
3 22 Michaelmas Term. [act v.
Jud. Why, 'tis she he means to marry.
Let. No, in truth.
Jud. In truth you do :
Who for his wife his harlot doth prefer,
Good reason 'tis that he should marry her.
Coun. W. I crave it on my knees ; such was his vow
at first.
Hell. I'll say so too, and work out mine own safety. —
[Aside.
Such was his vow at first indeed, my lord,
Howe'er his mood has chang'd him.
Let. O vild slave ! no
Coun. W. He says it true, my lord.
Jud. Rest content,
He shall both marry and taste punishment.
Let. O, intolerable ! I beseech your good lordship, if
I must have an outward punishment, let me not marry
an inward, whose lashes 1 will ne'er out, but grow worse
and worse. I have a wife stays for me this morning with
seven hundred pound in her purse : let me be speedily
whipt and be gone, I beseech your lordship.
Sale. 2 He speaks no truth, my lord : behold the virgin,
Wife to a well-esteemed gentleman, 120
Loathing the sin he follows.
Let. I was betray'd ; yes, faith.
Rear. His own mother, 3 my lord,
f 1 So ed. 2.— Ed. 1 "lustes."
3 Old eds. " Gent."
3 Something seems to have dropped out before this speech.
scene in.] Michaelmas Term. 323
Which he confess'd through ignorance and disdain,
His name so chang'd to abuse the world and her.
Let. Marry a harlot, why not? 'tis an honest man^s
fortune. I pray, did not one of my countrymen vrh&rry
my sister? why, well then, if none should be rriawidd
but those that are honest, where should a man seek a
wife after Christmas? I pity that gentleman that has
nine daughters to bestow, and seven of 'em seeded
already; they will be good stuff 1 by that time. 131
I do beseech your lordship to remove
The punishment ; I am content to marry her.
Jud. There's no removing of your punishment
Let. O, good my lord !
Jud. Unless one here assembled,
Whom you have most unnaturally abus'd, !
Beget your pardon.
Let. Who should that be ?
Or who would do't that has been so abus'd ?
A troublesome penance ! — Sir
Quo. Knave in your face ! leave your mocking, Andrew;
marry your quean, and be quiet. 1*41
Let. Master Easy
Easy. I'm sorry you take such a bad course, sir.
Let. Mistress 2 Quomodo
Tho. Inquire my right name again 3 next time ; now
go your ways like an ass as you came.
/ x See note i, p. 274.
2 So ed. 2.— Ed. 1 " Maister."
Z 3 Against.
324 Michaelmas Term. [act v.
Let. Mass, I forget my mother all this while; I'll
make her do't at first. — Pray, mother, your blessing for
once.
Moth. G. Call'st me mother? out, I defy 1 thee,
slave ! 151
Let. Call me slave as much as you will, but do not
shame me now: let the world know you are my
mother.
Moth. G. Let me not have this villain put upon me, I
beseech your lordship.
Jud. He's justly curs'd : she loathes to know him
now,
Whom he before did as much loathe to know. —
Wilt thou believe me^woman ?
Moth. G. That's soon done.
Jud. Then know him for a villain ; 'tis thy son. 160
Moth. G. Art thou Andrew, my wicked son Andrew ?
Let. You would not believe me, mother.
Moth. G. How art thou changed ! Is this suit fit for
thee, a tooth-drawer's son ? This country has e'en
spoiled thee since thou earnest hither : thy manners
[were] better than thy clothes, but now whole clothes
and ragged manners : it may well be said that truth goes
naked ; for when thou hadst scarce a shirt, thou hadst
more truth about thee.
Jud. Thou art thine own affliction, Quomodo. 170
Shortyard, we banish [thee] ; it is our pleasure.
1 Renounce.
scene in.1 Michaelmas Term. 325
Sho. Henceforth no woman shall complain for
measure.
Jud. And that all error from our works may stand,
We banish Falselight evermore the land.
[Exeunt omnes.
END OF VOL. I.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.