The English Dramatists

JOHN MARSTON

VOLUME THE THIRD

THE WORKS

OF

JOHN MARSTON

EDITED BY

A. H. BULLEN, B.A.

IN THREE VOLUMES

VOLUME THE THIRD

LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
MDCCCLXXXVII

Two hundred copies of this Edition on Laid paper, medium 8vo, have been printed, viz., 120 for the English Market, and 80 for America. Each copy numbered as issued.

No. 30

CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

EASTWARD HO.

Eastward Hoe. As It was playd in the Black-friers. By The Children of her Maiesties Reuels. Made by Geo: Chapman. Ben: Jonson. Ioh: Marston. At London Printed for William Aspley. 1605. 4to.

STORY OF THE PLAY.

Master Touchstone, an honest goldsmith, has two daughters and two apprentices. The elder daughter, Gertrude, is proud, extravagant, and wanton; the younger, Mildred, is simple, thrifty, and modest. So with the apprentices: Quicksilver is a graceless unthrift, but Golding is a model of industry and sobriety. A needy knight, Sir Petronel Flash, who represents himself to be the owner of a castle, marries Gertrude; and Golding, released from his apprenticeship, marries Mildred. Sir Petronel’s aim is to acquire some land of which Gertrude is possessed, turn it into ready money, and take ship with some adventurous spirits for Virginia, leaving his wife to find her way to the imaginary castle. Quicksilver, who has been dismissed from Touchstone’s service for riotous living, introduces Sir Petronel to an old usurer, Security; and Gertrude signs a deed, by which her estate is conveyed into Security’s hands. The knight is in love with Security’s wife, Winifred, and is anxious to have her society on the voyage. He tells Security that he intends to run away with the wife of one Bramble, a lawyer, and Security enters heartily into the scheme. It is contrived by Sir Petronel and Quicksilver that on the eve of the voyage Security brings Winifred in disguise (imagining her to be Bramble’s wife) to a river-side tavern, where are gathered Sir Petronel, Quicksilver, Seagull (the captain of the ship which is to sail for Virginia), Bramble, and the knight’s fellow-passengers, Scapethrift and Spendall. After drinking heavily at the tavern, the company rises to take boat for Blackwall, where Sir Petronel’s ship lies. As there is a stormy wind blowing and the tide is against them, the watermen urge that it would be unsafe to venture; but the company insists in starting, and the result is that the boats—one driven one way, another another—are capsized, and the drunken occupants are soused in the Thames. Security swims ashore at Cuckold’s Haven; Winifred is rescued at St. Katherine’s; Quicksilver finds himself by the gallows at Wapping; Sir

Petronel and Seagull are cast-up on the Isle of Dogs, which the cupshot knight takes to be a spot on the French coast. Quicksilver falls in with Sir Petronel and the two repair to London, where they are arrested at the suit of Touchstone and, after being examined before Golding (who has been appointed deputy to the alderman of his ward), are committed to the Counter. Here, having leisure to review their conduct, they become deeply penitent, and set a wholesome example to the rest of the prisoners. By Golding’s kind offices they are released from the Counter and are taken into the good graces of Touchstone, who has had convincing proof of their reformation. Gertrude, though she has been slower to express contrition, finally humbles her pride and is received back into favour. Quicksilver marries his cast mistress, Sindefy, and lives cleanly; Security takes back Winifred.

PROLOGUS.

Not out of envy, for there’s no effect
Where there’s no cause; nor out of imitation,
For we have evermore been imitated;[1]
Nor out of our contention to do better
Than that[2] which is opposed to ours in title,
For that was good; and better cannot be:
And for the title, if it seem affected,
We might as well have call’d it, “God[3] you good even:”
Only that eastward westwards still exceeds,
Honour the sun’s fair rising, not his setting.    10
Nor is our title utterly enforced,
As by the points we touch at you shall see.
Bear with our willing pains, if dull or witty,
We only dedicate it to the City.

[1] This tone of arrogant assumption is very characteristic of Ben Jonson, who probably contributed the prologue. Cf. Prologue to Cynthia’s Revels:—

“In this alone his Muse her sweetness hath;
She shuns the print of any beaten path,
And proves new ways to come to learned ears,” &c.

[2] The comedy of Westward Ho, by Webster and Dekker; it was not published until 1607.—Eastward Ho and Westward Ho were the cries of the watermen who plied on the Thames.

[3] A shortened form of “God give you good even.”

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[4]

Touchstone, a goldsmith.
Quicksilver, and Golding, apprentices to Touchstone.
Sir Petronel Flash, a shifty knight.
Security, an old usurer.
Bramble, a lawyer.
Seagull, a sea-captain.
Scapethrift, and Spendall, adventurers bound for Virginia.
Slitgut, a butcher’s apprentice.
Poldavy, a tailor.
Holdfast, and Wolf, officers of the Counter.
Hamlet, a footman.
Potkin, a tankard-bearer.
Drawer.

Mistress Touchstone.
Gertrude, and Mildred, her daughters.
Winifred, wife to Security.
Sindefy, mistress to Quicksilver.
Bettrice, a waiting-woman.
Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Gazer, Coachman, Page, Constables, Prisoners, &c.

Scene—London and Thames-side.

[4] Not marked in old ed.

EASTWARD HO.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Goldsmiths’ Row.

Enter Master Touchstone and Quicksilver at several doors; Quicksilver with his hat, pumps, short sword and dagger, and a racket trussed up under his cloak. At the middle door, enter Golding, discovering a goldsmith’s shop, and walking short turns before it.

To. And whither with you now? what loose action are you bound for? Come, what comrades are you to meet withal? where’s the supper? where’s the rendezvous?

Qu. Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir——

To. Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir! Behind my back thou wilt swear faster than a French foot-boy, and talk more bawdily than a common midwife; and now “indeed and in very good sober truth, sir!” but if a privy search should be made, with what furniture are you rigged now? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy master, William Touchstone, goldsmith; and thou my

prentice, Francis Quicksilver, and I will see whither you are running. Work upon that now.    14

Qu. Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation with his master’s profit.

To. Prentices’ recreations are seldom with their master’s profit. Work upon that now. You shall give up your cloak, though you be no alderman. Heyday! ruffians’-hall sword, pumps, here’s a racket indeed!

[Touchstone uncloaks Quicksilver.

Qu. Work upon that now.

To. Thou shameless varlet! dost thou jest at thy lawful master, contrary to thy indentures?    23

Qu. Why ’sblood, sir, my mother’s a gentlewoman, and my father a justice of peace and of Quorum; and though I am a younger brother and a prentice, yet I hope I am my father’s son; and by God’s lid, ’tis for your worship and for your commodity that I keep company. I am entertained among gallants, true;[5] they call me cousin Frank, right; I lend them moneys, good; they spend it, well. But when they are spent, must not they strive to get more, must not their land fly? and to whom? Shall not your worship ha’ the refusal? Well, I am a good member of the city, if I were well considered. How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthrifts? How could gentlemen be unthrifts if their humours were not fed? How should their humours be fed but by white meat, and cunning secondings? Well, the

city might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now: the gallants fall to play; I carry light gold with me; the gallants call, “Cousin Frank, some gold for silver;” I change, gain by it; the gallants lose the gold, and then call, “Cousin Frank, lend me some silver.” Why——    43

To. Why? I cannot tell. Seven-score pound art thou out in the cash; but look to it, I will not be gallanted out of my moneys. And as for my rising by other men’s fall, God shield me! did I gain my wealth by ordinaries? no: by exchanging of gold? no: by keeping of gallants’ company? no. I hired me a little shop, fought low, took small gain, kept no debt-book, garnished my shop, for want of plate, with good wholesome thrifty sentences; as, “Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;” “Light gains makes heavy purses;” “’Tis good to be merry and wise.” And when I was wived, having something to stick to, I had the horn of suretyship ever before my eyes. You all know the device of the horn, where the young fellow slips in at the butt-end, and comes squeezed out at the buckall: and I grew up, and I praise providence, I bear my brows now as high as the best of my neighbours: but thou——well, look to the accounts; your father’s bond lies for you: seven-score pound is yet in the rear.    62

Qu. Why ’slid, sir, I have as good, as proper gallants’ words for it as any are in London—gentlemen of good phrase, perfect language, passingly behaved; gallants that wear socks and clean linen, and call me “kind cousin Frank,” “good cousin Frank,” for they know my father: and by God’s lid shall I not trust ’hem?—not trust?

Enter a Page as inquiring for Touchstone’s shop.

Go. What do ye lack, sir? What is’t you’ll buy, sir?

To. Ay, marry sir; there’s a youth of another piece. There’s thy fellow-prentice, as good a gentleman born as thou art: nay, and better meaned. But does he pump it, or racket it? Well, if he thrive not, if he outlast not a hundred such crackling bavins as thou art, God and men neglect industry.    75

Go. It is his shop, and here my master walks.

[To the Page.

To. With me, boy?

Pa. My master, Sir Petronel Flash, recommends his love to you, and will instantly visit you.

To. To make up the match with my eldest daughter, my wife’s dilling,[6] whom she longs to call madam. He shall find me unwillingly ready, boy. [Exit Page.] There’s another affliction too. As I have two prentices, the one of a boundless prodigality, the other of a most hopeful industry—so have I only two daughters: the eldest, of a proud ambition and nice wantonness; the other of a modest humility and comely soberness. The one must be ladified, forsooth, and be attired just to the court-cut and long tail.[7] So far is she ill-natured to the place and means of my preferment and fortune, that she throws all the contempt and despite hatred itself can cast upon it. Well, a piece of land she has; ’twas her

grandmother’s gift; let her, and her Sir Petronel, flash out that; but as for my substance, she that scorns me, as I am a citizen and tradesman, shall never pamper her pride with my industry; shall never use me as men do foxes, keep themselves warm in the skin, and throw the body that bare it to the dunghill. I must go entertain this Sir Petronel. Golding, my utmost care’s for thee, and only trust in thee; look to the shop. As for you, Master Quicksilver, think of husks, for thy course is running directly to the prodigal’s hog’s-trough; husks, sirrah! Work upon that now.

[Exit Touchstone.

Qu. Marry faugh,[8] goodman flat-cap![9] ’sfoot! though I am a prentice I can give arms;[10] and my father’s a justice-a-peace by descent, and ’sblood——    106

Go. Fie, how you swear!

Qu. ’Sfoot, man, I am a gentleman, and may swear by my pedigree. God’s my life! Sirrah Golding, wilt be ruled by a fool? Turn good fellow, turn swaggering gallant, and let the welkin roar, and Erebus also.[11] Look not westward to the fall of Dan Phœbus, but to the east—Eastward-ho!

Where radiant beams of lusty Sol appear,
And bright Eous makes the welkin clear.

We are both gentlemen, and therefore should be no

coxcombs: let’s be no longer fools to this flat-cap, Touchstone. Eastward, bully, this satin belly, and canvas-backed Touchstone: ’slife! man, his father was a maltman, and his mother sold gingerbread in Christchurch.[12]    121

Go. What would you ha’ me to do?

Qu. Why, do nothing, be like a gentleman, be idle; the curse of man is labour. Wipe thy bum with testones, and make ducks and drakes with shillings. What, Eastward-ho! Wilt thou cry, “what is’t ye lack?” stand with a bare pate, and a dropping nose, under a wooden pent-house, and art a gentleman? Wilt thou bear tankards, and mayst bear arms? Be ruled; turn gallant; Eastward-ho! ta, lirra, lirra, ro! “Who[13] calls Jeronimo? Speak, here I am.” God’s so! how like a sheep thou look’st: o’ my conscience, some cowherd begot thee, thou Golding of Golding-hall! Ha, boy?    133

Go. Go, ye are a prodigal coxcomb! I a cowherd’s son, because I turn not a drunken whore-hunting rake-hell like thyself!

Qu. Rake-hell! rake-hell!

[Offers to draw, and Golding trips up his heels and holds him.

Go. Pish, in soft terms, ye are a cowardly bragging boy. I’ll ha’ you whipt.

Qu. Whipt?—that’s good, i’faith! untruss me?    140

Go. No, thou wilt undo thyself. Alas! I behold thee with pity, not with anger: thou common shot-clog,[14] gull of all companies; methinks I see thee already walk-in Moorfields[15] without a cloak, with half a hat, without a band, a doublet with three buttons, without a girdle, a hose with one point, and no garter, with a cudgel under thine arm, borrowing and begging threepence.

Qu. Nay, ’slife! take this and take all; as I am a gentleman born, I’ll be drunk, grow valiant, and beat thee.

[Exit.

Go. Go, thou most madly vain, whom nothing can recover but that which reclaims atheists, and makes great persons sometimes religious—calamity. As for my place and life, thus I have read:—    154

Whate’er some vainer youth may term disgrace,
The gain of honest pains is never base;
From trades, from arts, from valour, honour springs,
These three are founts of gentry, yea, of kings.

Enter Gertrude, Mildred, Bettrice, and Poldavy, a tailor; Poldavy with a fair gown, Scotch farthingale and French-fall in his arms; Gertrude in a

French head-attire, and citizen’s gown; Mildred sewing and Bettrice leading a monkey after her.[16]

Ge. For the passion of patience, look if Sir Petronel approach—that sweet, that fine, that delicate, that—for love’s sake tell me if he come. O sister Mill, though my father be a low-capped tradesman, yet I must be a lady; and I praise God my mother must call me madam. Does he come? Off with this gown, for shame’s sake, off with this gown: let not my knight take me in the city-cut in any hand: tear’t, pax on’t (does he come?) tear’t off. “Thus whilst she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake,” &c.[17]    167

Mi. Lord, sister, with what an immodest impatiency and disgraceful scorn do you put off your city ’tire; I am sorry to think you imagine to right yourself in wronging that which hath made both you and us.

Ge. I tell you I cannot endure it, I must be a lady: do you wear your coif with a London licket,[18] your stammel[19] petticoat with two guards,[20] the buffin[21] gown with the tuff-taffety cape, and the velvet lace. I must be a lady,

and I will be a lady. I like some humours of the city-dames well: to eat cherries[22] only at an angel a pound, good; to dye rich scarlet, black, pretty; to line a grogram gown clean thorough with velvet, tolerable; their pure linen, their smocks of three pounds a smock, are to be borne withal. But your mincing niceries, taffeta pipkins, durance[23] petticoats, and silver bodkins—God’s my life, as I shall be a lady, I cannot endure it! Is he come yet? Lord, what a long knight ’tis! “And ever she cried, Shoot[24] home!” and yet I knew one longer; “And ever she cried, Shoot[24] home,” fa, la, ly, re, lo, la!

Mi. Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing.    188

Ge. Bow-bell!

Mi. Where titles presume to thrust before fit means to second them, wealth and respect often grow sullen, and will not follow. For sure in this, I would for your sake I spake not truth: Where ambition of place goes before fitness of birth, contempt and disgrace follow. I heard a scholar once say, that Ulysses, when he counterfeited himself mad, yoked cats[25] and foxes and dogs together to

draw his plough, whiles he followed and sowed salt; but sure I judge them truly mad, that yoke citizens and courtiers, tradesmen and soldiers, a goldsmith’s daughter and a knight. Well, sister, pray God my father sow not salt too.    201

Ge. Alas! poor Mildred, when I am a lady, I’ll pray for thee yet, i’faith: nay, and I’ll vouchsafe to call thee sister Mill still; for though thou art not like to be a lady as I am, yet sure thou art a creature of God’s making; and mayest peradventure to be saved as soon as I (does he come?). “And ever and anon she doubled in her song.” Now, lady’s my comfort, what profane ape’s here? Tailor, Poldavy, prithee, fit it, fit it: is this a right Scot?[26] Does it clip close, and bear up round?    210

Po. Fine and stiffly, i’faith; ’twill keep your thighs so cool, and make your waist so small; here was a fault in your body, but I have supplied the defect, with the effect of my steel instrument, which, though it have but one eye, can see to rectify the imperfection of the proportion.

Ge. Most edifying tailor! I protest you tailors are most sanctified members, and make many crooked things go upright. How must I bear my hands? Light? light?    219

Po. O ay, now you are in the lady-fashion, you must do all things light. Tread light, light. Ay, and fall so: that’s the Court-amble.

[She trips about the stage.

Ge. Has the Court ne’er a trot?

Po. No, but a false gallop, lady.

Ge. And if she will not go to bed—

[Cantat.

Be. The knight’s come, forsooth.

Enter Sir Petronel, Master Touchstone, and Mistress Touchstone.

Ge. Is my knight come? O the Lord, my band! Sister, do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box o’ the ear, that I may seem to blush; now, now! So, there, there, there! here he is: O my dearest delight! Lord, Lord! and how does my knight?    231

To. Fie! with more modesty.

Ge. Modesty! why, I am no citizen now—modesty! Am I not to be married? y’are best to keep me modest, now I am to be a lady.

Sir Pe. Boldness is good fashion and courtlike.

Ge. Ay, in a country lady I hope it is, as I shall be. And how chance ye came no sooner, knight?

Sir Pe. ’Faith, I was so entertained in the progress with one Count Epernoum, a Welsh knight; we had a match at balloon[27] too with my Lord Whachum, for four crowns.    242

Ge. At baboon? Jesu! you and I will play at baboon in the country, knight.

Sir Pe. O, sweet lady! ’tis a strong play with the arm.

Ge. With arm or leg, or any other member, if it be a Court-sport. And when shall’s be married, my knight?

Sir Pe. I come now to consummate it, and your father may call a poor knight son-in-law.    250

M. To. Sir, ye are come; what is not mine to keep I must not be sorry to forego. A 100 li. land her grandmother left her, ’tis yours; herself (as her mother’s gift) is yours. But if you expect aught from me, know, my hand and mine eyes open together; I do not give blindly. Work upon that now.

Sir Pe. Sir, you mistrust not my means? I am a knight.

To. Sir, sir, what I know not, you will give me leave to say I am ignorant of.    260

Mist. To. Yes, that he is a knight; I know where he had money to pay the gentlemen-ushers and heralds their fees. Ay, that he is a knight, and so might you have been too, if you had been aught else than an ass, as well as some of your neighbours. And I thought you would not ha’ been knighted, as I am an honest woman, I would ha’ dubbed you myself. I praise God I have wherewithal. But as for your daughter——

Ge. Ay, mother, I must be a lady to-morrow; and by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in the right of my husband), I must take place of you, mother.    272

Mist. To. That you shall, lady-daughter, and have a coach as well as I too.

Ge. Yes, mother. But by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in my husband’s right), my coach-horses must take the wall of your coach-horses.

To. Come, come, the day grows low; ’tis supper-time;

use my house; the wedding solemnity is at my wife’s cost; thank me for nothing but my [un]willing blessing; for I cannot feign, my hopes are faint. And, sir, respect my daughter; she has refused for you wealthy and honest matches, known good men, well-moneyed, better traded, best reputed.    284

Ge. Body-o’-truth! chittizens,[28] chittizens! Sweet knight, as soon as ever we are married, take me to thy mercy out of this miserable chitty; presently carry me out of the scent of Newcastle coal, and the hearing of Bow-bell; I beseech thee down with me, for God sake!

To. Well, daughter, I have read that old wit sings:—

The greatest rivers flow from little springs:
Though thou art full, scorn not thy means at first,
He that’s most drunk may soonest be athirst.

Work upon that now.    294

[All but Touchstone, Mildred, and Golding depart.

No, no! yond’ stand my hopes—Mildred, come hither, daughter. And how approve you your sister’s fashion? how do you fancy her choice? what dost thou think?

Mi. I hope as a sister, well.

To. Nay but, nay but, how dost thou like her behaviour and humour? Speak freely.    300

Mi. I am loth to speak ill; and yet I am sorry of this, I cannot speak well.

To. Well; very good, as I would wish; a modest

answer. Golding, come hither; hither, Golding. How dost thou like the knight, Sir Flash? does he not look big? how likest thou the elephant? he says he has a castle in the country.

Go. Pray heaven, the elephant carry not his castle on his back.[29]    309

To. ’Fore heaven, very well! but seriously, how dost repute him?

Go. The best I can say of him is, I know him not.

To. Ha, Golding! I commend thee, I approve thee, and will make it appear my affection is strong to thee. My wife has her humour, and I will ha’ mine. Dost thou see my daughter here? She is not fair, well-favoured or so indifferent, which modest measure of beauty shall not make it thy only work to watch her, nor sufficient mischance to suspect her. Thou art towardly, she is modest; thou art provident, she is careful. She’s now mine; give me thy hand, she’s now thine. Work upon that now.    322

Go. Sir, as your son, I honour you; and as your servant, obey you.

To. Sayest thou so? Come hither, Mildred. Do you see yond’ fellow? he is a gentleman, though my prentice, and has somewhat to take too; a youth of good hope; well friended, well parted.[30] Are you mine? you are his. Work upon that now.    329

Mi. Sir, I am all yours; your body gave me life; your care and love, happiness of life; let your virtue still direct it, for to your wisdom I wholly dispose myself.

To. Say’st thou so? Be you two better acquainted. Lip her, lip her, knave. So, shut up shop; in. We must make holiday.

[Exeunt Golding and Mildred.

This match shall on, for I intend to prove
Which thrives the best, the mean or lofty love.
Whether fit wedlock vow’d ’twixt like and like,
Or prouder hopes, which daringly o’erstrike    340
Their place and means. ’Tis honest time’s expense,
When seeming lightness bears a moral sense.
Work upon that now.

[Exit.

[5] Compare the turn of this sentence with a passage of The Fawn (vol. ii. p. 181):—“His brother your husband, right; he cuckold his eldest brother, true; he get her with child, just.”

[6] Darling.

[7] An allusion to the proverbial expression, “cut and long tail” (i.e., dogs of every kind).

[8] “Marry, faugh”—a common expression of disgust.

[9] A nickname for a citizen.

[10] “Give arms”—show armorial bearings.

[11] Scraps of Pistol’s rant.—“To the infernal deep with Erebus and tortures vile also,” &c.

[12] The parishes of St. Ewin, St. Nicholas, and part of St. Sepulchre’s were amalgamated into one large parish and called Christ Church. It has been suggested that the reference is to Christ Church in Hampshire!

[13] “Who calls, &c.”—a line from The Spanish Tragedy (Hazlitt’s Dodsley, v. 54).

[14] One who paid the reckoning for the whole company at a tavern. Cf. Jonson, Poetaster, i. 1:—“What shall I have my son ... a gull, a rook, a shot-clog, to make suppers and be laugh’d at?”

[15] A favourite spot for sturdy beggars.—“I took him begging o’ the way this morning as I came over Moorfields.”—Every Man in his Humour, iv. 4.

[16] Bettrice is not introduced elsewhere in the play. I presume she is a waiting-woman in attendance upon Gertrude, and that it is part of her duty to look after her mistress’s monkey. Formerly ladies kept monkeys for pets,—a custom to which the dramatists constantly allude.

[17] A line from a song in John Dowland’s First Book of Songs or Airs, 1597. The song begins—“Sleep, wayward thoughts, and rest you with my love.”

[18] “I have a notion,” says Nares in his Glossary, “of having seen a London licket somewhere else, but cannot recall the place.” I regret to say that I am in the same difficulty. Possibly we were both thinking of London lickpenny.—“Licket” may be another form of “tippet.”

[19] Red.

[20] Facing, trimmings.

[21] A sort of coarse cloth.

[22] Cf. Middleton, i. 65.—Dekker, in the Bachelors Banquet (1603), describing “The humour of a woman lying in child-bed,” says:—“She must have cherries, though for a pound he pay ten shillings, or green peacods at four nobles a peck.”

[23] Durance was the name of a sort of strong buff-coloured stuff.

[24] Old ed. “shoute.” I have not been able to discover the song (if discoverable it is) from which Gertrude is quoting; there is something similar in one of the Roxburghe Ballads (vol. ii. p. 207) entitled “Have at a venture,” but the passage is hardly quotable.

[25] It was a horse (or an ass) and an ox that Ulysses yoked together, according to the ordinary account. See Hyginus Fab. xcv., and the notes of the commentators thereon.

[26] The Scotch farthingale is mentioned in Dekker and Webster’s Westward Ho, i. 1.

[27] A game in which a large inflated ball of leather was driven to and fro by a flat piece of wood attached to the arm.

[28] This affected pronunciation of the word citizens occurs frequently in Middleton’s Blurt, Master Constable.

[29] “’Tis an ordinary thing,” says Burton (Anat. of Mel., ed. 1660, p. 476), “to put a thousand oaks and an hundred oxen into a suit of apparel, to wear a whole manor on his back.” Cf. Henry VIII., i. 1, 30-35, &c.

[30] “Well parted” = of good abilities. The expression is Jonsonian. Macilente in “The Character of the Persons” prefixed to Every Man out of his Humour is described as “A man well parted, a sufficient scholar,” &c.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Goldsmiths’ Row.

Touchstone, Quicksilver, Golding, and Mildred, sitting on either side of the stall.

To. Quicksilver, Master Francis Quicksilver, Master Quicksilver!

Enter Quicksilver.

Qu. Here, sir (ump).

To. So, sir; nothing but flat Master Quicksilver (without any familiar addition) will fetch you; will you truss my points, sir?

Qu. Ay, forsooth (ump).

To. How now, sir? the drunken hiccup so soon this morning?

Qu. ’Tis but the coldness of my stomach, forsooth.    10

To. What? have you the cause natural for it? y’are a very learned drunkard: I believe I shall miss some of my silver spoons with your learning. The nuptial night will not moisten your throat sufficiently, but the morning

likewise must rain her dews into your gluttonous weasand.

Qu. An’t please you, sir, we did but drink (ump) to the coming off of the knightly bridegroom.

To. To the coming off an’ him?    19

Qu. Ay, forsooth, we drunk to his coming on (ump) when we went to bed; and now we are up, we must drink to his coming off: for that’s the chief honour of a soldier, sir; and therefore we must drink so much the more to it, forsooth (ump).

To. A very capital reason! So that you go to bed late, and rise early to commit drunkenness; you fulfil the scripture very sufficient wickedly, forsooth.

Qu. The knight’s men, forsooth, be still o’ their knees at it (ump), and because ’tis for your credit, sir, I would be loth to flinch.    30

To. I pray, sir, e’en to ’hem again then; y’are one of the separated crew, one of my wife’s faction, and my young lady’s, with whom, and with their great match, I will have nothing to do.

Qu. So, sir, now I will go keep my (ump) credit with ’hem, an’t please you, sir.

To. In any case, sir, lay one cup of sack more o’ your cold stomach, I beseech you.    38

Qu. Yes, forsooth.

[Exit Quicksilver.

To. This is for my credit! servants ever maintain drunkenness in their master’s house for their master’s credit; a good idle serving-man’s reason. I thank time the night is past; I ne’er waked to such cost; I think we have stowed more sorts of flesh in our bellies than

ever Noah’s ark received; and for wine, why my house turns giddy with it, and more noise in it than at a conduit. Ay me! even beasts condemn our gluttony. Well, ’tis our city’s fault, which, because we commit seldom, we commit the more sinfully; we lose no time in our sensuality, but we make amends for it. O that we would do so in virtue, and religious negligences! But see here are all the sober parcels my house can show; I’ll eavesdrop, hear what thoughts they utter this morning.    54

Enter Golding and Mildred.

Go. But is it possible that you, seeing your sister preferred to the bed of a knight, should contain your affections in the arms of a prentice?

Mi. I had rather make up the garment of my affections in some of the same piece, than, like a fool, wear gowns of two colours, or mix sackcloth with satin.

Go. And do the costly garments—the title and fame of a lady, the fashion, observation, and reverence proper to such preferment—no more inflame you than such convenience as my poor means and industry can offer to your virtues?    65

Mi. I have observed that the bridle given to those violent flatteries of fortune is seldom recovered; they bear one headlong in desire from one novelty to another, and where those ranging appetites reign, there is ever more passion than reason: no stay, and so no happiness. These hasty advancements are not natural. Nature

hath given us legs to go to our objects; not wings to fly to them.    73

Go. How dear an object you are to my desires I cannot express; whose fruition would my master’s absolute consent and yours vouchsafe me, I should be absolutely happy. And though it were a grace so far beyond my merit, that I should blush with unworthiness to receive it, yet thus far both my love and my means shall assure your requital: you shall want nothing fit for your birth and education; what increase of wealth and advancement the honest and orderly industry and skill of our trade will afford in any, I doubt not will be aspired by me; I will ever make your contentment the end of my endeavours; I will love you above all; and only your grief shall be my misery, and your delight my felicity.    87

To. Work upon that now. By my hopes, he wooes honestly and orderly; he shall be anchor of my hopes! Look, see the ill-yoked monster, his fellow!

Enter Quicksilver unlaced, a towel about his neck, in his flat-cap, drunk.

Qu. Eastward-ho! Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia![31]

To. Drunk now downright, o’ my fidelity!

Qu. (Ump).[32] Pull eo, pullo! showse, quoth the caliver.    95

Go. Fie, fellow Quicksilver, what a pickle are you in!

Qu. Pickle? pickle in thy throat; zounds, pickle! Wa, ha, ho! good-morrow, knight Petronel: morrow, lady goldsmith; come off, knight, with a counterbuff, for the honour of knighthood.

Go. Why, how now, sir? do ye know where you are?    102

Qu. Where I am? why, ’sblood! you jolthead, where I am!

Go. Go to, go to, for shame; go to bed and sleep out this immodesty: thou shamest both my master and his house.

Qu. Shame? what shame? I thought thou wouldst show thy bringing-up; and thou wert a gentleman as I am, thou wouldst think it no shame to be drunk. Lend me some money, save my credit; I must dine with the serving-men and their wives—and their wives, sirrah!    112

Go. E’en who you will; I’ll not lend thee threepence.

Qu. ’Sfoot; lend me some money; hast thou not Hiren here?[33]

To. Why, how now, sirrah? what vein’s this, ha?

Qu. Who cries on murther? Lady, was it you?[34] how does our master? pray thee cry Eastward-ho!

To. Sirrah, sirrah, y’are past your hiccup now; I see y’are drunk.    121

Qu. ’Tis for your credit, master.

To. And hear you keep a whore in town.

Qu. ’Tis for your credit, master.

To. And what you are out in cash, I know.

Qu. So do I; my father’s a gentleman. Work upon that now. Eastward-ho!

To. Sir, Eastward-ho will make you go Westward-ho:[35] I will no longer dishonest my house, nor endanger my stock, with your licence. There, sir, there’s your indenture; all your apparel (that I must know) is on your back, and from this time my door is shut to you: from me be free; but for other freedom, and the moneys you have wasted, Eastward-ho shall not serve you.    134

Qu. Am I free o’ my fetters? Rent, fly with a duck in thy mouth, and now I tell thee, Touchstone——

To. Good sir——

Qu. When[36] this eternal substance of my soul—

To. Well said; change your gold-ends[37] for your play-ends.    140

Qu. Did live imprison’d in my wanton flesh—

To. What then, sir?

Qu. I was a courtier in the Spanish Court, and Don Andrea was my name.

To. Good master Don Andrea, will you march?

Qu. Sweet Touchstone, will you lend me two shillings?

To. Not a penny.

Qu. Not a penny? I have friends, and I have acquaintance; I will piss at thy shop-posts, and throw rotten eggs at thy sign. Work upon that now.    150

[Exit staggering.

To. Now, sirrah, you! hear you? you shall serve me no more neither—not an hour longer.

Go. What mean you, sir?

To. I mean to give thee thy freedom, and with thy freedom my daughter, and with my daughter a father’s love. And with all these such a portion as shall make Knight Petronel himself envy thee! Y’are both agreed, are ye not?

Am. With all submission, both of thanks and duty.

To. Well then, the great Power of heaven bless and

confirm you. And, Golding, that my love to thee may not show less than my wife’s love to my eldest daughter, thy marriage feast shall equal the knight’s and hers.    163

Go. Let me beseech you, no, sir; the superfluity and cold meat left at their nuptials will with bounty furnish ours. The grossest prodigality is superfluous cost of the belly; nor would I wish any invitement of states or friends, only your reverent[38] presence and witness shall sufficiently grace and confirm us.    169

To. Son to my own bosom, take her and my blessing. The nice fondling, my lady, sir-reverence, that I must not now presume to call daughter, is so ravished with desire to hansell her new coach, and see her knight’s Eastward Castle, that the next morning will sweat with her busy setting forth. Away will she and her mother, and while their preparation is making, ourselves, with some two or three other friends, will consummate the humble match we have in God’s name concluded. ’Tis to my wish, for I have often read,
Fit birth, fit age, keeps long a quiet bed.    180
’Tis to my wish; for tradesmen, well ’tis known,
Get with more ease than gentry keeps his own.

[Exeunt.

[31] A hackneyed quotation from Tamburlaine.

[32] Old ed. “Am pum pull eo,” &c.

[33] A favourite quotation of Pistol’s (“Have we not Hiren here?”). It is supposed to come from Peele’s lost play The Turkish Mahomet and Hyren the Fair Greek.

[34] This line would seem to belong to the Spanish Tragedy, but it is not in the text that has come down. When Horatio is stabbed by the assassins, Bellimperia cries:—“Murder! murder! Help, Hieronimo, help!” She is forced off the stage, and then Hieronimo enters, exclaiming, “What outcries pluck me from my naked bed!” (a much-ridiculed line). But in a passage of Jonson’s Poetaster (iii. 1), where there is clearly an allusion to Jeronimo, we find the line (slightly altered) that Quicksilver quotes:—

“2d Pyr. Ay, but somebody must cry Murder! then in a small voice.
Tuc. Your fellow-sharer there shall do’t: cry, sirrah, cry!
1st Pyr. Murder, murder!
2d Pyr. Who calls out murder? lady, was it you?”

[35] “I.e., will make you go to Tyburn. So in Greene’s Second Part of the Art of Conny Catching, sig. 2:—‘And yet at last so long the pitcher goeth to the brooke that it cometh broken home: and so long the foists put their villainie in practice that Westward they goe, and there solemnly make a rehearsal sermon at tiborne.’ Again in the third part, sig. C, ‘the end of such (though they scape a while) will be sailing Westward in a carte to Tiborn.’”—Reed.

[36] “When this eternal substance of my soul
Did live imprison’d in my wanton flesh,
Each in their function serving other’s need,
I was a courtier in the Spanish court:
My name was Don Andrea.”
—Opening lines of the Spanish Tragedy.

[37] Broken pieces of gold.

[38] Frequently used for reverend.

SCENE II.

Room in Security’s house.

Security solus.

Sec. My privy guest, lusty Quicksilver, has drunk too deep of the bride-bowl; but with a little sleep, he is much recovered; and, I think, is making himself ready to be drunk in a gallanter likeness. My house is as ’twere the cave where the young outlaw hoards the stolen vails of his occupation; and here, when he will revel it in his prodigal similitude, he retires to his trunks, and (I may say softly) his punks; he dares trust me with the keeping of both; for I am Security itself; my name is Security, the famous usurer.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Room in Security’s house.

Enter Quicksilver in his prentice’s coat and cap, his gallant breeches and stockings, gartering himself, Security following.

Qu. Come, old Security, thou father of destruction! th’ indented sheepskin is burned wherein I was wrapt; and I am now loose, to get more children of perdition into thy usurous bonds. Thou feed’st my lechery, and I thy covetousness; thou art pander to me for my wench, and I to thee for thy cozenages. Ka me, ka thee,[39] runs through court and country.

Sec. Well said, my subtle Quicksilver! These ka’s ope the doors to all this world’s felicity: the dullest forehead sees it. Let not master courtier think he carries all the knavery on his shoulders: I have known poor Hob, in the country, that has worn hob-nails on’s hoes, have as much villainy in’s head as he that wears gold buttons in’s cap.    14

Qu. Why, man, ’tis the London highway to thrift; if virtue be used, ’tis but as a scape to the net of villainy. They that use it simply, thrive simply, I warrant. Weight and fashion makes goldsmiths cuckolds.

Enter Sindefy, with Quicksilver’s doublet, cloak, rapier, and dagger.

Si. Here, sir, put off the other half of your prenticeship.

Qu. Well said, sweet Sin! Bring forth my bravery.
Now let my trunks shoot[40] forth their silks conceal’d.    22
I now am free, and now will justify
My trunks and punks. Avaunt, dull flatcap, then!
Via the curtain that shadow’d Borgia![41]

There lie, thou husk of my envassail’d state,
I, Sampson, now have burst the Philistines’ bands,
And in thy lap, my lovely Dalila,
I’ll lie, and snore out my enfranchised state.

When[42] Sampson was a tall young man,    30
His power and strength increased than;
He sold no more nor cup nor can;
But did them all despise.
Old Touchstone, now write to thy friends
For one to sell thy base gold-ends;
Quicksilver now no more attends
Thee, Touchstone.

But, dad, hast thou seen my running gelding dressed to-day?

Sec. That I have, Frank. The ostler a’th’ Cock dressed him for a breakfast.    41

Qu. What! did he eat him?

Sec. No, but he eat his breakfast for dressing him; and so dressed him for breakfast.

Qu. O witty age! where age is young in wit,
And all youths’ words have gray-beards full of it!

Sec. But alas, Frank! how will all this be maintained now? Your place maintained it before.    48

Qu. Why, and I maintained my place. I’ll to the court: another manner of place for maintenance, I hope, than the silly City! I heard my father say, I heard my mother sing an old song and a true: Thou

art a she-fool, and know’st not what belongs to our male wisdom. I shall be a merchant, forsooth! trust my estate in a wooden trough as he does! What are these ships but tennis-balls for the winds to play withal? tossed from one wave to another; now under line, now over the house; sometimes brick-walled against a rock, so that the guts fly out again; sometimes strook under the wide hazard, and farewell, master merchant!    60

Si. Well, Frank, well: the seas you say, are uncertain: but he that sails in your Court seas shall find ’hem ten times fuller of hazard; wherein to see what is to be seen is torment more than a free spirit can endure; but when you come to suffer, how many injuries swallow you! What care and devotion must you use to humour an imperious lord, proportion your looks to his looks, smiles to his smiles; fit your sails to the winds of his breath!

Qu. Tush! he’s no journeyman in his craft that cannot do that.    71

Si. But he’s worse than a prentice that does it; not only humouring the lord, but every trencher-bearer, every groom, that by indulgence and intelligence crept into his favour, and by panderism into his chamber; he rules the roast; and when my honourable lord says it shall be thus, my worshipful rascal, the groom of his close stool, says it shall not be thus, claps the door after him, and who dares enter? A prentice, quoth you? ’Tis but to learn to live; and does that disgrace a man? He that rises hardly stands firmly; but he that rises with ease, alas! falls as easily.    82

Qu. A pox on you! who taught you this morality?

Sec. ’Tis ’long of this witty age, Master Francis. But, indeed, Mistress Sindefy, all trades complain of inconvenience, and therefore ’tis best to have none. The merchant, he complains and says, traffic is subject to much uncertainty and loss; let ’hem keep their goods on dry land, with a vengeance, and not expose other men’s substances to the mercy of the winds, under protection of a wooden wall (as Master Francis says); and all for greedy desire to enrich themselves with unconscionable gain, two for one, or so; where I, and such other honest men as live by lending money, are content with moderate profit; thirty or forty i’ th’ hundred, so we may have it with quietness, and out of peril of wind and weather, rather than run those dangerous courses of trading, as they do.    98

[Exit[43] Sindefy.

Qu. Ay, dad, thou may’st well be called Security, for thou takest the safest course.

Sec. ’Faith, the quieter, and the more contented, and, out of doubt, the more godly; for merchants, in their courses, are never pleased, but ever repining against heaven: one prays for a westerly wind, to carry his ship forth; another for an easterly, to bring his ship home, and at every shaking of a leaf[44] he falls into an agony, to think what danger his ship is in on such a coast, and

so forth. The farmer, he is ever at odds with the weather: sometimes the clouds have been too barren; sometimes the heavens forget themselves; their harvests answer not their hopes; sometimes the season falls out too fruitful, corn will bear no price, and so forth. The artificer, he’s all for a stirring world: if his trade be too full, and fall short of his expectation, then falls he out of joint. Where we that trade nothing but money are free from all this; we are pleased with all weathers, let it rain or hold up, be calm or windy; let the season be whatsoever, let trade go how it will, we take all in good part, e’en what please the heavens to send us, so the sun stand not still, and the moon keep her usual returns, and make up days, months, and years.    121

Qu. And you have good security?

Sec. Ay, marry, Frank, that’s the special point.

Qu. And yet, forsooth, we must have trades to live withal; for we cannot stand without legs, nor fly without wings, and a number of such scurvy phrases. No, I say still, he that has wit, let him live by his wit; he that has none, let him be a tradesman.

Sec. Witty Master Francis! ’tis pity any trade should dull that quick brain of yours. Do but bring Knight Petronel into my parchment toils once, and you shall never need to toil in any trade, o’ my credit. You know his wife’s land?    133

Qu. Even to a foot, sir; I have been often there; a pretty fine seat, good land, all entire within itself.

Sec. Well wooded?

Qu. Two hundred pounds’ worth of wood ready to

fell, and a fine sweet house, that stands just in the midst on’t, like a prick in the midst of a circle; would I were your farmer, for a hundred pound a year!

Sec. Excellent Master Francis! how I do long to do thee good! How I do hunger and thirst to have the honour to enrich thee! ay, even to die, that thou mightest inherit my living! even hunger and thirst! for o’ my religion, Master Francis, and so tell Knight Petronel, I do it to do him a pleasure.    146

Qu. Marry, dad! his horses are now coming up to bear down his lady; wilt thou lend him thy stable to set ’hem in?

Sec. ’Faith, Master Francis, I would be loth to lend my stable out of doors; in a greater matter I will pleasure him, but not in this.

Qu. A pox of your hunger and thirst! Well, dad, let him have money; all he could any way get is bestowed on a ship now bound for Virginia; the frame of which voyage is so closely conveyed that his new lady nor any of her friends know it. Notwithstanding, as soon as his lady’s hand is gotten to the sale of her inheritance, and you have furnished him with money, he will instantly hoist sail and away.    160

Sec. Now, a frank gale of wind go with him, Master Frank! we have too few such knight adventurers; who would not sell away competent certainties to purchase, with any danger, excellent uncertainties? your true knight venturer ever does. Let his wife seal to-day; he shall have his money to-day.

Qu. To-morrow she shall, dad, before she goes into

the country; to work her to which action with the more engines, I purpose presently to prefer my sweet Sin here to the place of her gentlewoman; whom you (for the more credit) shall present as your friend’s daughter, a gentlewoman of the country, new come up with a will for awhile to learn fashions forsooth, and be toward some lady; and she shall buzz pretty devices into her lady’s ear; feeding her humours so serviceably (as the manner of such as she is, you know).    176