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                       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


                   [Illustration: printer's logo]

                               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.


                                                                  PAGE

  EASTWARD HO                                                        1

  THE INSATIATE COUNTESS                                           125

  THE METAMORPHOSIS OF PYGMALION'S IMAGE,
  AND CERTAIN SATIRES                                              245

  THE SCOURGE OF VILLAINY                                          295

  ENTERTAINMENT OF ALICE, DOWAGER-COUNTESS
  OF DERBY                                                         383

  CITY PAGEANT                                                     405

  VERSES FROM CHESTER'S LOVE'S MARTYR                              413

  THE MOUNTEBANK'S MASQUE                                          417

  COMMENDATORY VERSES PREFIXED TO BEN JONSON'S
  SEJANUS                                                          444

  INDEX                                                            445




                            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,}
  GOLDING,    } _apprentices to_ TOUCHSTONE.
  Sir PETRONEL FLASH, _a shifty knight_.
  SECURITY, _an old usurer_.
  BRAMBLE, _a lawyer_.
  SEAGULL, _a sea-captain_.
  SCAPETHRIFT,}
  SPENDALL    } _adventurers bound for Virginia_.
  SLITGUT, _a butcher's apprentice_.
  POLDAVY, _a tailor_.
  HOLDFAST,}
  WOLF     } _officers of the Counter_.
  HAMLET, _a footman_.
  POTKIN, _a tankard-bearer_.
  Drawer.

  Mistress TOUCHSTONE.
  GERTRUDE,}
  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 Phoebus, 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

  _Sec._ True, good Master Francis.

                        _Re-enter_ SINDEFY.

  _Qu._ That she shall keep her port open to anything
  she commends to her.

  _Sec._ O' my religion, a most fashionable project; as
  good she spoil the lady, as the lady spoil her; for 'tis
  three to one of one side. Sweet Mistress Sin, how are
  you bound to Master Francis! I do not doubt to see
  you shortly wed one of the head-men[45] of our city.

  _Si._ But, sweet Frank, when shall my father Security
  present me?                                                     186

  _Qu._ With all festination; I have broken the ice to it
  already; and will presently to the knight's house, whither,
  my good old dad, let me pray thee, with all formality to
  man her.

  _Sec._ Command me, Master Francis, I do hunger and
  thirst to do thee service. Come, sweet Mistress Sin,
  take leave of my Winifred, and we will instantly meet
  Frank, Master Francis, at your lady's.

                      _Enter_ WINIFRED _above_.

  _Wi._ Where is my Cu there? Cu?

  _Sec._ Ay, Winnie.                                              196

  _Wi._ Wilt thou come in, sweet Cu?

  _Sec._ Ay, Winnie, presently.

                                    [_Exeunt_ SECURITY _and_ SINDEFY.

  _Qu._ Ay, Winnie, quod he, that's all he can do, poor
  man, he may well cut off her name at Winnie. O, 'tis
  an egregious pander! What will not an usurous knave
  be, so he may be rich? O, 'tis a notable Jew's trump!
  I hope to live to see dogs' meat made of the old usurer's
  flesh, dice of his bones, and indentures of his skin; and
  yet his skin is too thick to make parchment, 'twould
  make good boots for a peter-man[46] to catch salmon in.
  Your only smooth skin to make fine vellum is your
  Puritan's skin; they be the smoothest and slickest knaves
  in a country.                                                   209

      _Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _in boots, with a riding-wand_.[47]

  _Pe._ I'll out of this wicked town as fast as my horse
  can trot! Here's now no good action for a man to
  spend his time in. Taverns grow dead; ordinaries are
  blown up; plays are at a stand; houses of hospitality
  at a fall; not a feather waving, nor a spur jingling anywhere.
  I'll away instantly.

  _Qu._ Y'ad best take some crowns in your purse, knight,
  or else your Eastward Castle will smoke but miserably.

  _Pe._ O, Frank! my castle? Alas! all the castles I
  have are built with air, thou know'st.                          219

  _Qu._ I know it, knight, and therefore wonder whither
  your lady is going.

  _Pe._ 'Faith, to seek her fortune, I think. I said I had
  a castle and land eastward, and eastward she will, without
  contradiction; her coach and the coach of the sun
  must meet full butt. And the sun being outshined with
  her ladyship's glory, she fears he goes westward to hang
  himself.

  _Qu._ And I fear, when her enchanted castle becomes
  invisible, her ladyship will return and follow his example.

  _Pe._ Oh, that she would have the grace! for I shall
  never be able to pacify her, when she sees herself deceived
  so.                                                             232

  _Qu._ As easily as can be. Tell her she mistook your
  directions, and that shortly yourself will down with her
  to approve it; and then clothe but her crouper in a new
  gown, and you may drive her any way you list. For
  these women, sir, are like Essex calves, you must wriggle
  'hem on by the tail still, or they will never drive orderly.

  _Pe._ But, alas! sweet Frank, thou knowest my ability
  will not furnish her blood with those costly humours.

  _Qu._ Cast that cost on me, sir. I have spoken to my
  old pander, Security, for money or commodity; and commodity
  (if you will) I know he will procure you.                       243

  _Pe._ Commodity! Alas! what commodity?

  _Qu._ Why, sir! what say you to figs and raisins?

  _Pe._ A plague of figs and raisins, and all such frail[48]
  commodities! We shall make nothing of 'hem.

  _Qu._ Why then, sir, what say you to forty pound in
  roasted beef?[49]

  _Pe._ Out upon't, I have less stomach to that than to
  the figs and raisins; I'll out of town, though I sojourn
  with a friend of mine, for stay here I must not; my
  creditors have laid to arrest me, and I have no friend
  under heaven but my sword to bail me.                           254

  _Qu._ God's me, knight, put 'hem in sufficient sureties,
  rather than let your sword bail you! Let 'hem take their
  choice, either the King's Bench or the Fleet, or which of
  the two Counters they like best, for, by the Lord, I like
  none of 'hem.

  _Pe._ Well, Frank, there is no jesting with my earnest
  necessity; thou know'st if I make not present money to
  further my voyage begun, all's lost, and all I have laid
  out about it.                                                   263

  _Qu._ Why, then, sir, in earnest, if you can get your
  wise lady to set her hand to the sale of her inheritance,
  the bloodhound, Security, will smell out ready money
  for you instantly.

  _Pe._ There spake an angel: to bring her to which
  conformity, I must feign myself extremely amorous;
  and alleging urgent excuses for my stay behind, part
  with her as passionately as she would from her foisting
  hound.[50]                                                      272

  _Qu._ You have the sow by the right ear, sir. I warrant
  there was never child longed more to ride a cock-horse
  or wear his new coat, than she longs to ride in her new
  coach. She would long for everything when she was a
  maid, and now she will run mad for 'hem. I lay my life,
  she will have every year four children; and what charge
  and change of humour you must endure while she is with
  child, and how she will tie you to your tackling till she
  be with child, a dog would not endure. Nay, there is
  no turnspit dog bound to his wheel[51] more servilely than
  you shall be to her wheel; for, as that dog can never
  climb the top of his wheel but when the top comes under
  him, so shall you never climb the top of her contentment
  but when she is under you.                                      286

  _Pe._ 'Slight, how thou terrifiest me!

  _Qu._ Nay, hark you, sir; what nurses, what midwives,
  what fools, what physicians, what cunning women must
  be sought for (fearing sometimes she is bewitched, sometimes
  in a consumption), to tell her tales, to talk bawdy
  to her, to make her laugh, to give her glisters, to let her
  blood under the tongue and betwixt the toes; how she
  will revile and kiss you, spit in your face, and lick it off
  again; how she will vaunt you are her creature; she made
  you of nothing; how she could have had thousand mark
  jointures; she could have been made a lady by a Scotch
  knight, and never ha' married him; she could have had
  ponados[52] in her bed every morning; how she set you
  up, and how she will pull you down: you'll never be able
  to stand of your legs to endure it.                             301

  _Pe._ Out of my fortune, what a death is my life bound
  face to face to! The best is, a large time-fitted conscience
  is bound to nothing: marriage is but a form in
  the school of policy, to which scholars sit fastened only
  with painted chains. Old Security's young wife is ne'er
  the further off with me.

  _Qu._ Thereby lies a tale, sir. The old usurer will be
  here instantly, with my punk Sindefy, whom you know
  your lady has promised me to entertain for her gentlewoman;
  and he (with a purpose to feed on you) invites
  you most solemnly by me to supper.                              312

  _Pe._ It falls out excellently fitly: I see desire of gain
  makes jealousy venturous.

                         _Enter_ GERTRUDE.

  See, Frank, here comes my lady. Lord! how she views
  thee! she knows thee not, I think, in this bravery.

  _Ge._ How now? who be you, I pray?

  _Qu._ One Master Francis Quicksilver, an't please your
  ladyship.

  _Ge._ God's my dignity! as I am a lady, if he did not
  make me blush so that mine eyes stood a-water. Would
  I were unmarried again!                                         322

                  _Enter_ SECURITY _and_ SINDEFY.

  Where's my woman, I pray?

  _Qu._ See, madam, she now comes to attend you.

  _Sec._ God save my honourable knight and his worshipful
  lady.

  _Ge._ Y'are very welcome; you must not put on your
  hat yet.

  _Sec._ No, madam; till I know your ladyship's further
  pleasure, I will not presume.

  _Ge._ And is this a gentleman's daughter new come out
  of the country?                                                 332

  _Sec._ She is, madam; and one that her father hath a
  special care to bestow in some honourable lady's service,
  to put her out of her honest humours, forsooth; for she
  had a great desire to be a nun, an't please you.

  _Ge._ A nun? what nun? a nun substantive? or a nun
  adjective?

  _Sec._ A nun substantive, madam, I hope, if a nun be a
  noun. But I mean, lady, a vowed maid of that order.

  _Ge._ I'll teach her to be a maid of the order, I warrant
  you. And can you do any work belongs to a lady's
  chamber?                                                        343

  _Si._ What I cannot do, madam, I would be glad to
  learn.

  _Ge._ Well said; hold up, then; hold up your head, I
  say; come hither a little.

  _Si._ I thank your ladyship.

  _Ge._ And hark you, good man, you may put on your
  hat now; I do not look on you. I must have you of
  my faction now; not of my knight's, maid.                       351

  _Si._ No, forsooth, madam, of yours.

  _Ge._ And draw all my servants in my bow, and keep
  my counsel, and tell me tales, and put me riddles, and
  read on a book sometimes when I am busy, and laugh
  at country gentlewomen, and command anything in the
  house for my retainers; and care not what you spend,
  for it is all mine; and in any case be still a maid, whatsoever
  you do, or whatsoever any man can do unto you.

  _Sec._ I warrant your ladyship for that.                        360

  _Ge._ Very well; you shall ride in my coach with me
  into the country, to-morrow morning. Come, knight,
  pray thee let's make a short supper, and to bed presently.

  _Sec._ Nay, good madam, this night I have a short
  supper at home waits on his worship's acceptation.

  _Ge._ By my faith, but he shall not go, sir; I shall
  swoon and he sup from me.

  _Pe._ Pray thee, forbear; shall he lose his provision?

  _Ge._ Ay, by-lady, sir, rather than I lose my longing.
  Come in, I say; as I am a lady, you shall not go.               370

  _Qu._ I told him what a burr he had gotten.

  _Sec._ If you will not sup from your knight, madam, let
  me entreat your ladyship to sup at my house with him.

  _Ge._ No, by my faith, sir; then we cannot be abed
  soon enough after supper.

  _Pe._ What a medicine is this! Well, Master Security,
  you are new married as well as I; I hope you are bound
  as well. We must honour our young wives, you know.

  _Qu._ In policy, dad, till to-morrow she has sealed.

  _Sec._ I hope in the morning yet your knighthood will
  breakfast with me?                                              381

  _Pe._ As early as you will, sir.

  _Sec._ I thank your good worship; I do hunger and
  thirst to do you good, sir.

  _Ge._ Come, sweet knight, come; I do hunger and
  thirst to be abed with thee.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [39] "Ka me, ka thee"--one good turn deserves another. See Nares'
     _Glossary_.

     [40] _Trunk_ was a term for a pea-shooter.

     [41] "This alludes to a scene in the tragedy of _Mulleasses the
     Turke_, 1610, by Mason, where Borgias appears as a ghost, and
     is addressed by Mulleasses in these words:--
         'Illusive ayre, false shape of Borgias,
          Could thy vaine shadow worke a feare in him
          That like an Atlas under went the earth,
          When with a prim and constant eye he saw
          Hell's fifty-headed porter; thus I'd prove
          Thy apparition idle.      [_Runnes at Borgias._

          _Borg._ Treason! I live.'"--_Reed._

     [42] A parody of an old ballad. See Evans' _Old Ballads_, i.
     283 (1810); Chappell's _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, i.
     241.

     [43] Not marked in old ed.--She leaves the stage while Security
     and Quicksilver are conversing; and presently (p. 37) returns.
     [Transcriber's note: after line 177, above scene.]

     [44] Cf. _Merchant of Venice_, i. 1:--
                      "My wind, cooling my broth,
          Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
          What harm a wind too great at sea might do."

     [45] A jocular term for _cuckolds_.

     [46] Nickname for a fisherman (one who followed the occupation of
     the apostle Peter).

     [47] "A hollie wand or _riding wand_. Houssine."--_Cotgrave._

     [48] Used with a quibble. _Frail_ was a basket for figs,
     raisins, &c.

     [49] In _Lanthorn and Candlelight_ (1609) Dekker mentions
     this extraordinary commodity:--"After a revelling, when younger
     brothers have spent all, or in gaming have lost all, they sit
     plotting in their chambers with necessity how to be furnished
     presently with a new supply of money. They would take up any
     commodity whatsoever, but their names stand in too many texted
     letters in mercers' and scriveners' books. Upon _a hundred
     pounds' worth of roasted beef_ they could find in their hearts
     to venture, for that would away in turning of a hand; but where
     shall they find a butcher or a cook that will let any man run so
     much upon the score for flesh only?" (_Works_, ed. Grosart,
     iii. 231.)

     [50] "Foisting hound" = a dog with an evil smell.

     [51] "There is comprehended under the curs of the coarsest kind a
     certain dog in kitchen service excellent. For when any meat is to
     be roasted _they go into a wheel_, which they turning round
     about with the weight of their bodies so diligently look to their
     business that no drudger nor scullion can do the feat more
     cunningly: whom the popular sort hereupon call
     turnspits."--Topsel's _History of Four-footed Beasts_, ed.
     1658 (p. 139).

     [52] The old ed. gives "poynados" (= poniards), which modern
     editors strangely retain. _Ponado_ (_panado_) was a
     caudle made of bread, currants, sack, eggs, &c.




                              ACT III.


                              SCENE I.

                        SECURITY'S _house_.

  _Enter_ SIR PETRONEL, QUICKSILVER, SECURITY, BRAMBLE,
     _and_ WINIFRED.


  _Pe._ Thanks for your feast-like breakfast, good Master
  Security; I am sorry (by reason of my instant haste to
  so long a voyage as Virginia) I am without means by
  any kind amends to show how affectionately I take your
  kindness, and to confirm by some worthy ceremony a
  perpetual league of friendship betwixt us.

  _Sec._ Excellent knight! let this be a token betwixt us
  of inviolable friendship. I am new married to this fair
  gentlewoman, you know; and by my hope to make her
  fruitful, though I be something in years, I vow faithfully
  unto you to make you godfather, though in your absence,
  to the first child I am blest withal; and henceforth call
  me gossip, I beseech you, if you please to accept it.            13

  _Pe._ In the highest degree of gratitude, my most worthy
  gossip; for confirmation of which friendly title, let me
  entreat my fair gossip, your wife here, to accept this
  diamond, and keep it as my gift to her first child, wheresoever
  my fortune, in event of my voyage, shall bestow
  me.

  _Sec._ How now, my coy wedlock;[53] I make you strange
  of so noble a favour? Take it, I charge you, with all
  affection, and, by way of taking your leave, present
  boldly your lips to our honourable gossip.                       23

  _Qu._ How venturous he is to him, and how jealous to
  others!

  _Pe._ Long may this kind touch of our lips print in our
  hearts all the forms of affection. And now, my good
  gossip, if the writings be ready to which my wife should
  seal, let them be brought this morning before she takes
  coach into the country, and my kindness shall work her
  to despatch it.                                                  31

  _Sec._ The writings are ready, sir. My learned counsel
  here, Master Bramble the lawyer, hath perused them;
  and within this hour I will bring the scrivener with them
  to your worshipful lady.

  _Pe._ Good Master Bramble, I will here take my leave
  of you then. God send you fortunate pleas, sir, and
  contentious clients!

  _Br._ And you foreright winds, sir, and a fortunate
  voyage.

                                                             [_Exit._

                        _Enter a_ Messenger.

  _Me._ Sir Petronel, here are three or four gentlemen
  desire to speak with you.                                        42

  _Pe._ What are they?

  _Qu._ They are your followers in this voyage, knight:
  Captain Seagull and his associates; I met them this
  morning, and told them you would be here.

  _Pe._ Let them enter, I pray you; I know they long to
  be gone, for their stay is dangerous.

           _Enter_ SEAGULL, SCAPETHRIFT, _and_ SPENDALL.

  _Sea._ God save my honourable colonel!                           49

  _Pe._ Welcome, good Captain Seagull, and worthy
  gentlemen. If you will meet my friend Frank here, and
  me, at the Blue Anchor Tavern by Billingsgate this
  evening, we will there drink to our happy voyage, be
  merry, and take boat to our ship with all expedition.

  _Sp._ Defer it no longer, I beseech you, sir; but as your
  voyage is hitherto carried closely, and in another knight's
  name, so for your own safety and ours, let it be continued:
  our meeting and speedy purpose of departing known to
  as few as is possible, lest your ship and goods be
  attached.                                                        60

  _Qu._ Well advised, captain; our colonel shall have
  money this morning to despatch all our departures;
  bring those gentlemen at night to the place appointed,
  and, with our skins full of vintage, we'll take occasion by
  the vantage,[54] and away.

  _Sp._ We will not fail, but be there, sir.

  _Pe._ Good morrow, good captain, and my worthy
  associates. Health and all sovereignty to my beautiful
  gossip; for you, sir, we shall see you presently with the
  writings.                                                        70

  _Sec._ With writings and crowns to my honourable
  gossip. I do hunger and thirst to do you good, sir.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [53] Wife.

     [54] Collier compares Nashe's _Summer's Last Will_,
     &c.:--"Our vintage was a vintage, for it did not work upon the
     advantage."


                              SCENE II.

                           _An inn-yard._

        _Enter a_ Coachman _in haste, in his frock, feeding_.


  _Co._ Here's a stir when citizens ride out of town, indeed
  as if all the house were a-fire! 'Slight! they will not
  give a man leave to eat's breakfast afore he rises.

               _Enter_ HAMLET, _a footman, in haste_.

  _Ha._ What, coachman--my lady's coach! for shame!
  her ladyship's ready to come down.

                _Enter_ POTKIN, _a tankard-bearer_.

  _Po._ 'Sfoot! Hamlet, are you mad?[55] Whither run
  you now? you should brush up my old mistress!

                          _Enter_ SINDEFY.

  _Si._ What, Potkin?--you must put off your tankard
  and put on your blue coat,[56] and wait upon Mistress
  Touchstone into the country.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Po._ I will, forsooth, presently.

                                                             [_Exit._

            _Enter_ Mistress FOND _and_ Mistress GAZER.

  _Fo._ Come, sweet Mistress Gazer, let's watch here, and
  see my Lady Flash take coach.                                    13

  _Ga._ O' my word here's a most fine place to stand in;
  did you see the new ship launched last day, Mistress
  Fond?

  _Fo._ O God! and we citizens should lose such a sight!

  _Ga._ I warrant here will be double as many people to
  see her take coach as there were to see it take water.

  _Fo._ O she's married to a most fine castle i' th' country,
  they say.                                                        21

  _Ga._ But there are no giants in the castle, are there?

  _Fo._ O no: they say her knight killed 'hem all, and
  therefore he was knighted.

  _Ga._ Would to God her ladyship would come away!

          _Enter_ GERTRUDE, Mistress TOUCHSTONE, SINDEFY,
                          HAMLET, POTKIN.

  _Fo._ She comes, she comes, she comes!

  _Ga._ } Pray heaven bless your ladyship!
  _Fo._ }

  _Ge._ Thank you, good people. My coach, for the love
  of heaven, my coach! In good truth I shall swoon else.

  _Ha._ Coach, coach, my lady's coach!

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Ge._ As I am a lady, I think I am with child already,
  I long for a coach so. May one be with child afore they
  are married, mother?                                             33

  _Mist. T._ Ay, by'r lady, madam; a little thing does
  that; I have seen a little prick no bigger than a pin's
  head swell bigger and bigger, till it has come to an
  ancome;[57] and e'en so 'tis in these cases.

                          _Enter_ HAMLET.

  _Ha._ Your coach is coming, madam.

  _Ge._ That's well said. Now, heaven! methinks I am
  e'en up to the knees in preferment.                              40
  _But a little higher, but a little higher, but a little higher,
  There, there, there lies Cupid's fire!_

  _Mist. T._ But must this young man, an't please you,
  madam, run by your coach all the way a-foot?

  _Ge._ Ay, by my faith, I warrant him; he gives no other
  milk, as I have another servant does.

  _Mist. T._ Alas! 'tis e'en pity, methinks; for God's sake,
  madam, buy him but a hobby-horse; let the poor youth
  have something betwixt his legs to ease 'hem. Alas! we
  must do as we would be done to.                                  50

  _Ge._ Go to, hold your peace, dame; you talk like an
  old fool, I tell you!

              _Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _and_ QUICKSILVER.

  _Pe._ Wilt thou be gone, sweet honey-suckle, before I
  can go with thee?

  _Ge._ I pray thee, sweet knight, let me; I do so long to
  dress up thy castle afore thou comest. But I marle how
  my modest sister occupies herself this morning, that she
  cannot wait on me to my coach, as well as her mother.

  _Qu._ Marry, madam, she's married by this time to
  prentice Golding. Your father, and some one more,
  stole to church with 'hem in all the haste, that the cold
  meat left at your wedding might serve to furnish their
  nuptial table.                                                   63

  _Ge._ There's no base fellow, my father, now; but he's
  e'en fit to father such a daughter: he must call me
  daughter no more now: but "madam," and "please you,
  madam;" and "please your worship, madam," indeed.
  Out upon him! marry his daughter to a base prentice!

  _Mist. T._ What should one do? Is there no law for
  one that marries a woman's daughter against her will?
  How shall we punish him, madam?                                  71

  _Ge._ As I am a lady, an't would snow, we'd so pebble
  'hem with snow-balls as they come from church; but,
  sirrah Frank Quicksilver.

  _Qu._ Ay, madam.

  _Ge._ Dost remember since thou and I clapt what-d'ye-call'ts
  in the garret?

  _Qu._ I know not what you mean, madam.

  _Ge._ _His_[58] _head as white as milk, all flaxen was his hair;_
  _But now he is dead, and laid in his bed,_                       80
  _And never will come again._
  God be at your labour!

     _Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, MILDRED, _with rosemary_.[59]

  _Pe._ Was there ever such a lady?

  _Qu._ See, madam, the bride and bridegroom!

  _Ge._ God's my precious! God give you joy, mistress.
  What lack you? Now out upon thee, baggage! My
  sister married in a taffeta hat! Marry, hang you!
  Westward with a wanion[60] t'ye! Nay, I have done wi'
  ye, minion, then, i'faith; never look to have my
  countenance any more, nor anything I can do for thee.
  Thou ride in my coach, or come down to my castle! fie
  upon thee! I charge thee in my ladyship's name, call
  me sister no more.                                               93

  _To._ An't please your worship, this is not your sister:
  this is my daughter, and she calls me father, and so does
  not your ladyship, an't please your worship, madam.

  _Mist. T._ No, nor she must not call thee father by
  heraldry, because thou makest thy prentice thy son as
  well as she. Ah! thou misproud prentice, darest thou
  presume to marry a lady's sister?                               100

  _Go._ It pleased my master, forsooth, to embolden me
  with his favour; and though I confess myself far unworthy
  so worthy a wife (being in part her servant, as I am your
  prentice) yet (since I may say it without boasting) I am
  born a gentleman, and by the trade I have learned of my
  master (which I trust taints not my blood), able, with
  mine own industry and portion, to maintain your
  daughter, my hope is, heaven will so bless our humble
  beginning, that in the end I shall be no disgrace to the
  grace with which my master has bound me his double
  prentice.                                                       111

  _To._ Master me no more, son, if thou think'st me
  worthy to be thy father.

  _Ge._ Son! Now, good Lord, how he shines! and you
  mark him, he's a gentleman!

  _Go._ Ay, indeed, madam, a gentleman born.

  _Pe._ Never stand o' your gentry, Master Bridegroom;
  if your legs be no better than your arms, you'll be able
  to stand upright on neither shortly.                            119

  _To._ An't please your good worship, sir, there are two
  sorts of gentlemen.

  _Pe._ What mean you, sir?

  _To._ Bold to put off my hat to your worship----

  _Pe._ Nay, pray forbear, sir, and then forth with your
  two sorts of gentlemen.

  _To._ If your worship will have it so, I say there are
  two sorts of gentlemen. There is a gentleman artificial,
  and a gentleman natural. Now though your worship be
  a gentleman natural: work upon that now.                        129

  _Qu._ Well said, old Touchstone; I am proud to
  hear thee enter a set speech, i'faith; forth, I beseech
  thee.

  _To._ Cry your mercy, sir, your worship's a gentleman I
  do not know. If you be one of my acquaintance, y'are
  very much disguised, sir.

  _Qu._ Go to, old quipper; forth with thy speech, I
  say.                                                            137

  _To._ What, sir, my speeches were ever in vain to your
  gracious worship; and therefore, till I speak to you
  gallantry indeed, I will save my breath for my broth anon.
  Come, my poor son and daughter, let us hide ourselves in
  our poor humility, and live safe. Ambition consumes
  itself with the very show. Work upon that now.

  _Ge._ Let him go, let him go, for God's sake! let him
  make his prentice his son, for God's sake! give away
  his daughter, for God's sake! and when they come a-begging
  to us for God's sake, let's laugh at their good
  husbandry for God's sake. Farewell, sweet knight, pray
  thee make haste after.                                          149

  _Pe._ What shall I say?--I would not have thee go.

  _Qu._ _Now,_[61] _O now, I must depart,
        _Parting though it absence move._
  This ditty, knight, do I see in thy looks in capital
  letters.
        _What a grief 'tis to depart, and leave the flower that
           has my heart!_
        _My sweet lady, and alack for woe, why, should we
           part so?_
  Tell truth, knight, and shame all dissembling lovers;
  does not your pain lie on that side?                            158

  _Pe._ If it do, canst thou tell me how I may cure it?

  _Qu._ Excellent easily. Divide yourself in two halves,
  just by the girdlestead; send one half with your lady,
  and keep t'other yourself; or else do as all true lovers
  do--part with your heart, and leave your body behind.
  I have seen't done a hundred times: 'tis as easy a matter
  for a lover to part without a heart from his sweetheart,
  and he ne'er the worse, as for a mouse to get from a trap
  and leave her [_sic_] tail behind him. See, here comes the
  writings.                                                       168

                _Enter_ SECURITY _with a_ Scrivener.

  _Sec._ Good morrow to my worshipful lady. I present
  your ladyship with this writing, to which if you please to
  set your hand with your knight's, a velvet gown shall
  attend your journey, o' my credit.

  _Ge._ What writing is it, knight?

  _Pe._ The sale, sweetheart, of the poor tenement I told
  thee of, only to make a little money to send thee down
  furniture for my castle, to which my hand shall lead
  thee.

  _Ge._ Very well. Now give me your pen, I pray.

  _Qu._ It goes down without chewing, i'faith.

  _Scr._ Your worships deliver this as your deed?                 180

  _Ambo._ We do.

  _Ge._ So now, knight, farewell till I see thee.

  _Pe._ All farewell to my sweetheart!

  _Mist. T._ God-b'w'y', son knight.

  _Pe._ Farewell, my good mother.

  _Ge._ Farewell, Frank; I would fain take thee down if
  I could.

  _Qu._ I thank your good ladyship; farewell, Mistress
  Sindefy.

                                                           [_Exeunt._

  _Pe._ O tedious voyage, whereof there is no end!
  What will they think of me?                                     191

  _Qu._ Think what they list. They longed for a vagary
  into the country, and now they are fitted. So a woman
  marry to ride in a coach, she cares not if she ride to her
  ruin. 'Tis the great end of many of their marriages.
  This is not the first time a lady has rid a false journey in
  her coach, I hope.

  _Pe._ Nay, 'tis no matter, I care little what they think;
  he that weighs men's thoughts has his hands full of
  nothing. A man, in the course of this world, should be
  like a surgeon's instrument--work in the wounds of
  others, and feel nothing himself. The sharper and
  subtler, the better.                                            203

  _Qu._ As it falls out now, knight, you shall not need
  to devise excuses, or endure her outcries, when she returns;
  we shall now begone before, where they cannot
  reach us.

  _Pe._ Well, my kind compeer, you have now the assurance
  we both can make you; let me now entreat you,
  the money we agreed on may be brought to the Blue
  Anchor, near to Billingsgate, by six o'clock; where I and
  my chief friends, bound for this voyage, will with feasts
  attend you.                                                     213

  _Sec._ The money, my most honourable compeer, shall
  without fail observe your appointed hour.

  _Pe._ Thanks, my dear gossip. I must now impart
  To your approved love, a loving secret;
  As one on whom my life doth more rely
  In friendly trust than any man alive.
  Nor shall you be the chosen secretary                           220
  Of my affections for affection only:
  For I protest (if God bless my return)
  To make you partner in my actions' gain
  As deeply as if you had ventured with me
  Half my expenses. Know then, honest gossip,
  I have enjoy'd with such divine contentment
  A gentlewoman's bed whom you well know,
  That I shall ne'er enjoy this tedious voyage,
  Nor live the least part of the time it asketh,
  Without her presence; so I thirst and hunger                    230
  To taste the dear feast of her company.
  And if the hunger and the thirst you vow
  As my sworn gossip, to my wishèd good
  Be, as I know it is, unfeign'd and firm,
  Do me an easy favour in your power.

  _Sec._ Be sure, brave gossip, all that I can do,
  To my best nerve, is wholly at your service:
  Who is the woman, first, that is your friend?

  _Pe._ The woman is your learned counsel's wife,
  The lawyer, Master Bramble; whom would you                      240
  Bring out this even in honest neighbourhood,
  To take his leave with you, of me your gossip,
  I, in the meantime, will send this my friend
  Home to his house, to bring his wife disguised,
  Before his face, into our company;
  For love hath made her look for such a wile,
  To free her from his tyrannous jealousy.
  And I would take this course before another,
  In stealing her away to make us sport,
  And gull his circumspection the more grossly;                   250
  And I am sure that no man like yourself
  Hath credit with him to entice his jealousy
  To so long stay abroad as may give time
  To her enlargement, in such safe disguise.

  _Sec._ A pretty, pithy, and most pleasant project!
  Who would not strain a point of neighbourhood
  For such a point device? that as the ship[62]
  Of famous Draco went about the world,
  Will wind about the lawyer, compassing
  The world himself; he hath it in his arms,                      260
  And that's enough for him, without his wife.
  A lawyer is ambitious, and his head
  Cannot be praised nor raised too high,
  With any fork of highest knavery.
  I'll go fetch her straight.

                                                    [_Exit_ SECURITY.

  _Pe._ So, so.  Now, Frank, go thou home to his house,
 'Stead of his lawyer's, and bring his wife hither,
  Who, just like to the lawyer's wife, is prison'd
  With his[63] stern usurous jealousy, which could never
  Be over-reach'd thus but with over-reaching.                    270

                        _Re-enter_ SECURITY.

  _Sec._ And, Master Francis, watch you th' instant time
  To enter with his exit: 'twill be rare,
  Two fine horn'd beasts!--a camel and a lawyer!

  _Qu._ How the old villain joys in villainy!

  _Sec._ And hark you, gossip, when you have her here,
  Have your boat ready, ship her to your ship
  With utmost haste, lest Master Bramble stay you.
  To o'er-reach that head that out-reacheth all heads,
 'Tis a trick rampant!--'tis a very quiblin![64]
  I hope this harvest to pitch cart with lawyers,                 280
  Their heads will be so forked. This sly touch
  Will get apes to invent a number such.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Qu._ Was ever rascal honey'd so with poison?
  He that delights in slavish avarice,
  Is apt to joy in every sort of vice.
  Well, I'll go fetch his wife, whilst he the lawyer's.

  _Pe._ But stay, Frank, let's think how we may disguise
  her upon this sudden.                                           288

  _Qu._ God's me! there's the mischief! But hark you,
  here's an excellent device: 'fore God, a rare one! I will
  carry her a sailor's gown and cap, and cover her, and a
  player's beard.

  _Pe._ And what upon her head?

  _Qu._ I tell you, a sailor's cap! 'Slight, God forgive
  me! what kind of figent[65] memory have you?

  _Pe._ Nay, then, what kind of figent wit hast thou?
  A sailor's cap?--how shall she put it off
  When thou present'st her to our company?

  _Qu._ Tush, man, for that, make her a saucy sailor.             299

  _Pe._ Tush, tush! 'tis no fit sauce for such sweet mutton,
  I know not what t' advise.

            _Re-enter_ SECURITY _with his wife's gown_.

  _Sec._ Knight, knight, a rare device!

  _Pe._ 'Swounds, yet again!

  _Qu._ What stratagem have you now?

  _Sec._ The best that ever. You talk of disguising?

  _Pe._ Ay, marry, gossip, that's our present care.

  _Sec._ Cast care away then; here's the best device
  For plain Security (for I am no better)
  I think, that ever lived: here's my wife's gown,
  Which you may put upon the lawyer's wife,                       310
  And which I brought you, sir, for two great reasons;
  One is, that Master Bramble may take hold
  Of some suspicion that it is my wife,
  And gird me so perhaps with his law-wit;
  The other (which is policy indeed)
  Is, that my wife may now be tied at home,
  Having no more but her old gown abroad,
  And not show me a quirk, while I firk others.
  Is not this rare?

  _Ambo._ The best that ever was.

  _Sec._ Am I not born to furnish gentlemen?                      320

  _Pe._ O my dear gossip!

  _Sec._ Well hold, Master Francis; watch when the
  lawyer's out, and put it in. And now I will go fetch
  him.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Qu._ O my dad! he goes as 'twere the devil to fetch
  the lawyer; and devil shall he be, if horns will make
  him.

  _Pe._ Why, how now, gossip? why stay you there
  musing?

  _Sec._ A toy, a toy runs in my head, i'faith.                   330

  _Qu._ A pox of that head! is there more toys yet?

  _Pe._ What is it, pray thee, gossip?

  _Sec._ Why, sir, what if you should slip away now with
  my wife's best gown, I having no security for it?

  _Qu._ For that I hope, dad, you will take our words.

  _Sec._ Ay, by th' mass, your word--that's a proper staff
  For wise Security to lean upon!
  But 'tis no matter, once I'll trust my name
  On your crack'd credits; let it take no shame.
  Fetch the wench, Frank.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Qu._ I'll wait upon you, sir,                                  340
  And fetch you over, you were ne'er so fetch'd.
  Go to the tavern, knight; your followers
  Dare not be drunk, I think, before their captain.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Pe._ Would I might lead them to no hotter service
  Till our Virginian gold were in our purses!

                                                             [_Exit._


     [55] One of many allusions that show the early popularity of
     Shakespeare's play.

     [56] "Blue coat"--the livery of a serving-man.

     [57] Ulcerous swelling.

     [58] A variation of the snatch sung by Ophelia.

     [59] The herb of remembrance, used at weddings and funerals.

     [60] "With a wanion,"--with a plague!

     [61] A misquotation from a song in John Dowland's _First Book
     of Songs or Airs_ (1597):--
         "Now, O now, I needs must part,
          Parting though I absent mourn," &c.

     [62] Sir Francis Drake's ship, in which he sailed round the
     world. By order of Queen Elizabeth it was laid up at Deptford,
     whither it attracted many sightseers. See Nares' _Glossary_.

     [63] "Both the quartos [there is only one] have it 'With
     _eyes_ stern usurous jealousy,' which may be right, though
     the sense is rather forced."--_Collier._ The copy that lies
     before me gives, "With his sterne vsurous Ielosie."

     [64] Device, trick.--In _The Insatiate Countess_, ii. 3, we
     have the word "whiblin" used in the same sense.

     [65] Fidgetty, volatile.


                             SCENE III.

                  _The Blue Anchor, Billingsgate._

  _Enter_ SEAGULL, SPENDALL, _and_ SCAPETHRIFT, _in the Tavern, with a
     Drawer_.


  _Sea._ Come, drawer, pierce your neatest hogsheads,
  and let's have cheer--not fit for your Billingsgate
  tavern, but for our Virginian colonel; he will be here
  instantly.

  _Dr._ You shall have all things fit, sir; please you
  have any more wine?

  _Sp._ More wine, slave! whether we drink it or no,
  spill it, and draw more.

  _Sea._ Fill all the pots in your house with all sorts of
  liquor, and let 'hem wait on us here like soldiers in their
  pewter coats; and though we do not employ them now,
  yet we will maintain 'hem till we do.                            12

  _Dr._ Said like an honourable captain; you shall have
  all you can command, sir.

                                                      [_Exit_ Drawer.

  _Sea._ Come, boys, Virginia longs till we share the rest
  of her maidenhead.

  _Sp._ Why, is she inhabited already with any English?

  _Sea._ A whole country of English is there, man, bred
  of those that were left there in '79;[66] they have married
  with the Indians, and make 'hem bring forth as beautiful
  faces as any we have in England; and therefore the
  Indians are so in love with 'hem, that all the treasure
  they have they lay at their feet.                                23

  _Sca._ But is there such treasure there, captain, as I
  have heard?

  _Sea._ I tell thee, gold is more plentiful there than
  copper is with us; and for as much red copper as I can
  bring, I'll have thrice the weight in gold. Why, man,
  all their dripping-pans and their chamber-pots are pure
  gold; and all the chains with which they chain up their
  streets are massy gold; all the prisoners they take are
  fettered in gold; and for rubies and diamonds, they go
  forth on holidays and gather 'hem by the seashore, to
  hang on their children's coats, and stick in their caps,
  as commonly as our children wear saffron-gilt brooches
  and groats with holes in 'hem.                                   36

  _Sca._ And is it a pleasant country withal?

  _Sea._ As ever the sun shined on; temperate and full
  of all sorts of excellent viands: wild boar is as common
  there as our tamest bacon is here; venison as mutton.
  And then you shall live freely there, without sergeants,
  or courtiers, or lawyers, or intelligencers, only[67] a few
  industrious Scots, perhaps, who indeed are dispersed
  over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there
  are no greater friends to Englishmen and England,
  when they are out on't, in the world, than they are.
  And for my part, I would a hundred thousand of 'hem
  were there, for we are all one countrymen now, ye
  know, and we should find ten times more comfort of
  them there than we do here. Then for your means to
  advancement, there it is simple, and not preposterously
  mixed. You may be an alderman there, and never be
  scavenger: you may be a nobleman, and never be a
  slave. You may come to preferment enough, and never
  be a pander; to riches and fortune enough, and have
  never the more villainy nor the less wit. Besides,[68] there
  we shall have no more law than conscience, and not too
  much of either; serve God enough, eat and drink enough,
  and enough is as good as a feast.                                59

  _Sp._ God's me! and how far is it thither?

  _Sea._ Some six weeks' sail, no more, with any indifferent
  good wind. And if I get to any part of the
  coast of Africa, I'll sail thither with any wind; or when
  I come to Cape Finisterre, there's a foreright wind
  continually wafts us till we come at Virginia. See, our
  colonel's come.                                                  66

             _Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _with his followers_.

  _Pe._ Well met, good Captain Seagull, and my noble
  gentlemen! Now the sweet hour of our freedom is at
  hand. Come, drawer, fill us some carouses, and prepare
  us for the mirth that will be occasioned presently. Here
  will be a pretty wench, gentlemen, that will bear us
  company all our voyage.

  _Sea._ Whatsoever she be, here's to her health, noble
  colonel, both with cap and knee.

  _Pe._ Thanks, kind Captain Seagull, she's one I love
  dearly, and must not be known till we be free from
  all that know us. And so, gentlemen, here's to her
  health.                                                          78

  _Ambo._ Let it come, worthy colonel; we do hunger
  and thirst for it.

  _Pe._ Afore heaven! you have hit the phrase of one
  that her presence will touch from the foot to the forehead,
  if ye knew it.

  _Sp._ Why, then, we will join his forehead with her
  health, sir; and Captain Scapethrift, here's to 'hem
  both.

                  _Enter_ SECURITY _and_ BRAMBLE.

  _Sec._ See, see, Master Bramble, 'fore heaven! their
  voyage cannot but prosper; they are o' their knees
  for success to it!

  _Br._ And they pray to god Bacchus.                              90

  _Sec._ God save my brave colonel, with all his tall
  captains and corporals. See, sir, my worshipful learned
  counsel, Master Bramble, is come to take his leave of
  you.

  _Pe._ Worshipful Master Bramble, how far do you draw
  us into the sweet-briar of your kindness! Come, Captain
  Seagull, another health to this rare Bramble, that hath
  never a prick about him.

  _Sea._ I pledge his most smooth disposition, sir. Come,
  Master Security, bend your supporters, and pledge this
  notorious health here.                                          101

  _Sec._ Bend you yours likewise, Master Bramble; for it
  is you shall pledge me.

  _Sea._ Not so, Master Security; he must not pledge his
  own health.

  _Sec._ No, Master Captain?

           _Enter_ QUICKSILVER _with_ WINNY _disguised_.

  Why, then, here's one is fitly come to do him that
  honour.

  _Qu._ Here's the gentlewoman your cousin, sir, whom,
  with much entreaty, I have brought to take her leave of
  you in a tavern; ashamed whereof, you must pardon
  her if she put not off her mask.                                112

  _Pe._ Pardon me, sweet cousin; my kind desire to see
  you before I went, made me so importunate to entreat
  your presence here.

  _Sec._ How now, Master Francis? have you honoured
  this presence with a fair gentlewoman?

  _Qu._ Pray, sir, take you no notice of her, for she will
  not be known to you.

  _Sec._ But my learned counsel, Master Bramble here,
  I hope he may know her.                                         121

  _Qu._ No more than you, sir, at this time; his learning
  must pardon her.

  _Sec._ Well, God pardon her for my part, and I do, I'll
  be sworn; and so, Master Francis, here's to all that are
  going eastward to-night towards Cuckold's Haven;[69] and
  so to the health of Master Bramble.

  _Qu._ I pledge it, sir. Hath it gone round, Captain?

  _Sea._ It has, sweet Frank; and the round closes with
  thee.                                                           130

  _Qu._ Well, sir, here's to all eastward and toward
  cuckolds, and so to famous Cuckold's Haven, so fatally
  remembered.

                                                           [_Surgit._

  _Pe._ Nay, pray thee, coz, weep not; gossip Security.

  _Sec._ Ay, my brave gossip.

  _Pe._ A word, I beseech you, sir. Our friend, Mistress
  Bramble here, is so dissolved in tears, that she drowns
  the whole mirth of our meeting. Sweet gossip, take
  her aside and comfort her.                                      139

  _Sec._ Pity of all true love, Mistress Bramble; what,
  weep you to enjoy your love? What's the cause, lady?
  Is't because your husband is so near, and your heart
  yearns to have a little abused him? Alas, alas! the
  offence is too common to be respected. So great a
  grace hath seldom chanced to so unthankful a woman,
  to be rid of an old jealous dotard, to enjoy the arms of
  a loving young knight, that when your prickless Bramble
  is withered with grief of your loss, will make you flourish
  afresh in the bed of a lady.                                    149

                          _Enter_ Drawer.

  _Dr._ Sir Petronel, here's one of your watermen come
  to tell you it will be flood these three hours; and that
  'twill be dangerous going against the tide, for the sky
  is overcast, and there was a porcpisce[70] even now seen
  at London Bridge, which is always the messenger of
  tempests, he says.

  _Pe._ A porcpisce!--what's that to th' purpose? Charge
  him, if he love his life, to attend us; can we not reach
  Blackwall (where my ship lies) against the tide, and in
  spite of tempests? Captains and gentlemen, we'll begin
  a new ceremony at the beginning of our voyage, which
  I believe will be followed of all future adventurers.           161

  _Sea._ What's that, good colonel?

  _Pe._ This, Captain Seagull. We'll have our provided
  supper brought aboard Sir Francis Drake's ship,[71] that
  hath compassed the world; where, with full cups and
  banquets, we will do sacrifice for a prosperous voyage.
  My mind gives me that some good spirits of the waters
  should haunt the desert ribs of her, and be auspicious
  to all that honour her memory, and will with like orgies
  enter their voyages.                                            170

  _Sea._ Rarely conceited! One health more to this
  motion, and aboard to perform it. He that will not this
  night be drunk, may he never be sober.

                              [_They compass in_ WINIFRED, _dance the
                                  drunken round, and drink carouses_.

  _Br._ Sir Petronel and his honourable captains, in
  these young services we old servitors may be spared.
  We only came to take our leaves, and with one health
  to you all, I'll be bold to do so. Here, neighbour
  Security, to the health of Sir Petronel, and all his
  captains.

  _Sec._ You must bend then, Master Bramble; so now
  I am for you. I have one corner of my brain, I hope,
  fit to bear one carouse more. Here, lady, to you that
  are encompassed there, and are ashamed of our company.
  Ha, ha, ha! by my troth, my learned counsel,
  Master Bramble, my mind runs so of Cuckold's Haven
  to-night, that my head runs over with admiration.               186

  _Br._ But is not that your wife, neighbour?

  _Sec._ No, by my troth, Master Bramble. Ha, ha, ha!
  A pox of all Cuckold's Havens, I say!

  _Br._ O' my faith, her garments are exceeding like
  your wife's.

  _Sec._ _Cucullus non facit monachum_, my learned counsel;
  all are not cuckolds that seem so, nor all seem not that
  are so. Give me your hand, my learned counsel; you
  and I will sup somewhere else than at Sir Francis
  Drake's ship to-night. Adieu, my noble gossip.

  _Br._ Good fortune, brave captains; fair skies God
  send ye!

  _Omnes._ Farewell, my hearts, farewell!                         199

  _Pe._ Gossip, laugh no more at Cuckold's Haven, gossip.

  _Sec._ I have done, I have done, sir; will you lead,
  Master Bramble? Ha, ha, ha!

  _Pe._ Captain Seagull, charge a boat.

  _Omnes._ A boat, a boat, a boat!

                                            [_Exeunt all but_ Drawer.

  _Dr._ Y'are in a proper taking indeed, to take a boat,
  especially at this time of night, and against tide and
  tempest. They say yet, "drunken men never take
  harm." This night will try the truth of that proverb.           208

                                                             [_Exit._


     [66] This date is too early. The first colony was established (by
     Sir Richard Grenville) in 1585; see Hakluyt's _Voyages_ (ed.
     1600), iii. 254. These colonists stayed only a year in Virginia.
     A second batch was sent out in 1587.

     [67] "Only a few ... than we do here."--This is one of the
     passages that gave offence and procured the author's
     imprisonment. It is found only in a few copies. Englishmen were
     disgusted at the favours lavished by James on the needy Scots who
     swarmed southwards "with pride and hungry hopes completely
     arm'd." See Jesse's _Court of England under the Stuarts_,
     ed. 1855, i. 52-3.

     [68] "Besides ... good as a feast."--This passage is omitted in
     the copies that contain the cancelled passage about the Scots.

     [69] A spot on the Thames below Rotherhithe.

     [70] Old form of porpoise: it occurs in Jonson's _Silent
     Woman_, &c. The gambolling of porpoises was supposed to
     portend a storm.

     [71] See note 1, p. 59. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [63]]


                              SCENE IV.

                   _Outside_ SECURITY'S _house_.

                         _Enter_ SECURITY.


  _Sec._ What, Winny!--wife, I say! out of doors at this
  time! where should I seek the gad-fly? Billingsgate,
  Billingsgate, Billingsgate! She's gone with the knight,
  she's gone with the knight; woe be to thee, Billingsgate!
  A boat, a boat, a boat! a full hundred marks for a
  boat![72]

                                                             [_Exit._


     [72] See note 2, vol. ii. p. 349.




                               ACT IV.


                              SCENE I.

                         _Cuckold's Haven._

  _Enter_ SLITGUT _with a pair of ox-horns, discovering Cuckold's Haven
     above_.


  _Sl._ All hail, fair haven of married men only! for there
  are none but married men cuckolds. For my part, I
  presume not to arrive here, but in my masters behalf (a
  poor butcher of East-cheap), who sends me to set up (in
  honour of Saint Luke) these necessary ensigns of his
  homage.[73] And up I got this morning, thus early, to get
  up to the top of this famous tree, that is all fruit and no
  leaves, to advance this crest of my master's occupation.
  Up then; heaven and Saint Luke bless me, that I be
  not blown into the Thames as I climb, with this furious
  tempest. 'Slight! I think the devil be abroad, in likeness
  of a storm, to rob me of my horns! Hark how he
  roars! Lord! what a coil the Thames keeps! she bears
  some unjust burthen, I believe, that she kicks and
  curvets thus to cast it. Heaven bless all honest passengers
  that are upon her back now; for the bit is out
  of her mouth, I see, and she will run away with 'hem!
  So, so, I think I have made it look the right way; it
  runs against London Bridge, as it were, even full butt.
  And now let me discover from this lofty prospect, what
  pranks the rude Thames plays in her desperate lunacy.
  O me! here's a boat has been cast away hard by. Alas,
  alas! see one of her passengers labouring for his life to
  land at this haven here! pray heaven he may recover
  it! His next land is even just under me; hold out yet
  a little, whatsoever thou art; pray, and take a good
  heart to thee. 'Tis a man; take a man's heart to thee;
  yet a little further, get up a' thy legs, man; now 'tis
  shallow enough. So, so, so! Alas! he's down again.
  Hold thy wind, father: 'tis a man in a nightcap. So!
  now he's got up again; now he's past the worst: yet,
  thanks be to heaven, he comes towards me pretty and
  strongly.                                                        33

         _Enter_ SECURITY _without his hat, in a nightcap,
                           wet band, &c._

  _Sec._ Heaven, I beseech thee, how have I offended
  thee! where am I cast ashore now, that I may go a
  righter way home by land? Let me see; O I am
  scarce able to look about me: where is there any seamark
  that I am acquainted withal?

  _Sl._ Look up, father; are you acquainted with this
  mark?                                                            40

  _Sec._ What! landed at Cuckold's Haven! Hell and
  damnation! I will run back and drown myself.

                                                    [_He falls down._

  _Sl._ Poor man, how weak he is! the weak water has
  washed away his strength.

  _Sec._ Landed at Cuckold's Haven! If it had not been
  to die twenty times alive, I should never have 'scaped
  death! I will never arise more; I will grovel here and
  eat dirt till I be choked; I will make the gentle earth
  do that, which the cruel water has denied me.                    49

  _Sl._ Alas! good father, be not so desperate! Rise,
  man; if you will I'll come presently and lead you home.

  _Sec._ Home! shall I make any know my home, that
  has known me thus abroad? How low shall I crouch
  away, that no eye may see me? I will creep on the
  earth while I live, and never look heaven in the face
  more.

                                                    [_Exit creeping._

  _Sl._ What young planet reigns now, trow,[74] that old
  men are so foolish? What desperate young swaggerer
  would have been abroad such a weather as this, upon
  the water? Ay me! see another remnant of this unfortunate
  shipwreck, or some other. A woman, i'faith,
  a woman; though it be almost at St. Katherine's, I discern
  it to be a woman, for all her body is above the
  water, and her clothes swim about her most handsomely.
  O, they bear her up most bravely! has not a woman
  reason to love the taking up of her clothes the better
  while she lives, for this? Alas! how busy the rude
  Thames is about her! a pox o' that wave! it will drown
  her, i'faith, 'twill drown her! Cry God mercy, she has
  'scaped it--I thank heaven she has 'scaped it! O how
  she swims like a mermaid! some vigilant body look out
  and save her. That's well said; just where the priest
  fell in, there's one sets down a ladder, and goes to take
  her up. God's blessing o' thy heart, boy! Now take
  her up in thy arms and to bed with her; she's up, she's
  up! She's a beautiful woman, I warrant her; the
  billows durst not devour her.                                    77

    _Enter the_ Drawer _of the Blue Anchor,_[75] _with_ WINIFRED.

  _Dr._ How fare you now, lady?

  _Wi._ Much better, my good friend, than I wish; as
  one desperate of her fame, now my life is preserved.

  _Dr._ Comfort yourself: that power that preserved you
  from death can likewise defend you from infamy, howsoever
  you deserve it. Were not you one that took
  boat late this night, with a knight and other gentlemen
  at Billingsgate?

  _Wi._ Unhappy that I am, I was.                                  86

  _Dr._ I am glad it was my good hap to come down
  thus far after you, to a house of my friend's here in St.
  Katherine's, since I am now happily made a mean to
  your rescue from the ruthless tempest, which (when you
  took boat) was so extreme, and the gentleman that
  brought you forth so desperate and unsober, that I
  feared long ere this I should hear of your shipwreck,
  and therefore (with little other reason) made thus far
  this way. And this I must tell you, since perhaps you
  may make use of it, there was left behind you at our
  tavern, brought by a porter (hired by the young gentleman
  that brought you), a gentlewoman's gown, hat,
  stockings, and shoes; which if they be yours, and you
  please to shift you, taking a hard bed here in this house
  of my friend, I will presently go fetch you.                    101

  _Wi._ Thanks, my good friend, for your more than good
  news. The gown with all things bound with it are mine;
  which if you please to fetch as you have promised, I will
  boldly receive the kind favour you have offered till your
  return; entreating you, by all the good you have done in
  preserving me hitherto, to let none take knowledge of what
  favour you do me, or where such a one as I am bestowed,
  lest you incur me much more damage in my fame than
  you have done me pleasure in preserving my life.                110

  _Dr._ Come in, lady, and shift yourself; resolve that
  nothing but your own pleasure shall be used in your
  discovery.

  _Wi._ Thank you, good friend; the time may come, I
  shall requite you.

                                                           [_Exeunt._

  _Slit._ See, see, see! I hold my life, there's some other
  a taking up at Wapping now! Look, what a sort of
  people cluster about the gallows there! in good troth
  it is so. O me! a fine young gentleman! What, and
  taken up at the gallows! Heaven grant he be not one
  day taken down there! O' my life, it is ominous! Well,
  he is delivered for the time. I see the people have all left
  him; yet will I keep my prospect awhile, to see if any
  more have been shipwracked.                                     124

                 _Enter_ QUICKSILVER, _bareheaded_.

  _Qu._ Accursed that ever I was saved or born!
  How fatal is my sad arrival here!
  As if the stars and providence spake to me,
  And said, "The drift of all unlawful courses
  (Whatever end they dare propose themselves,
  In frame of their licentious policies),                         130
  In the firm order of just destiny,
  They are the ready highways to our ruins."
  I know not what to do; my wicked hopes
  Are, with this tempest, torn up by the roots.
  O! which way shall I bend my desperate steps,
  In which unsufferable shame and misery
  Will not attend them? I will walk this bank,
  And see if I can meet the other relics
  Of our poor shipwreck'd crew, or hear of them.
  The knight, alas! was so far gone with wine,                    140
  And th' other three, that I refused their boat,
  And took the hapless woman in another,
  Who cannot but be sunk, whatever fortune
  Hath wrought upon the others' desperate lives.

                                                             [_Exit._

          _Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _and_ SEAGULL, _bareheaded_.

  _Pe._ Zounds! captain, I will tell thee, we are cast up
  o' the coast of France. 'Sfoot! I am not drunk still, I
  hope. Dost remember where we were last night?

  _Sea._ No, by my troth, knight, not I; but methinks we
  have been a horrible while upon the water and in the
  water.                                                          150

  _Pe._ Ay me! we are undone for ever! Hast any
  money about thee?

  _Sea._ Not a penny, by Heaven!

  _Pe._ Not a penny betwixt us, and cast ashore in
  France!

  _Sea._ 'Faith, I cannot tell that; my brains nor mine
  eyes are not mine own yet.                                      157

                       _Enter two_ Gentlemen.

  _Pe._ 'Sfoot! wilt not believe me? I know't by th'
  elevation of the pole, and by the altitude and latitude of
  the climate. See, here comes a couple of French gentlemen;
  I knew we were in France; dost thou think our
  Englishmen are so Frenchified, that a man knows not
  whether he be in France or in England, when he sees
  'hem? What shall we do? We must e'en to 'hem, and
  entreat some relief of 'hem. Life is sweet, and we have
  no other means to relieve our lives now but their charities.

  _Sea._ Pray you, do you beg on 'hem then; you can
  speak French.                                                   168

  _Pe._ Monsieur, plaist il d'avoir pitie de nostre grande
  infortune. Je suis un poure chevalier d'Angleterre qui
  a souffri l'infortune de naufrage.

  _1st Gent._ Un poure chevalier d'Angleterre?

  _Pe._ Oui, monsieur, il est trop vray; mais vous sçaves
  bien nous sommes toutes subject à fortune.

  _2nd Gent._ A poor knight of England?--a poor knight
  of Windsor, are you not? Why speak you this broken
  French when y'are a whole Englishman? On what coast
  are you, think you?

  _Pe._ On the coast of France, sir.                              179

  _1st Gent._ On the coast of Dogs, sir; y'are i'th' Isle o'
  Dogs, I tell you, I see y'ave been washed in the Thames
  here, and I believe ye were drowned in a tavern before,
  or else you would never have took boat in such a dawning
  as this was. Farewell, farewell; we will not know you
  for shaming of you. I ken the man weel; he's one of
  my thirty pound knights.[76]

  _2nd Gent._ No, no, this is he that stole his knighthood
  o' the grand day for four pound given to a page; all the
  money in's purse, I wot well.

                                                           [_Exeunt._

  _Sea._ Death! colonel, I knew you were over-shot.               190

  _Pe._ Sure I think now, indeed, Captain Seagull, we
  were something over-shot.

                        _Enter_ QUICKSILVER.

  What! my sweet Frank Quicksilver! dost thou survive
  to rejoice me? But what! nobody at thy heels, Frank?
  Ay me! what is become of poor Mistress Security?

  _Qu._ 'Faith, gone quite from her name, as she is from
  her fame, I think; I left her to the mercy of the water.

  _Sea._ Let her go, let her go! Let us go to our ship at
  Blackwall, and shift us.                                        199

  _Pe._ Nay, by my troth, let our clothes rot upon us, and
  let us rot in them; twenty to one our ship is attached
  by this time! If we set her not under sail this last tide,
  I never looked for any other. Woe, woe is me! what
  shall become of us? The last money we could make,
  the greedy Thames has devoured; and if our ship be
  attached, there is no hope can relieve us.

  _Qu._ 'Sfoot! knight, what an unknightly faintness transports
  thee! Let our ship sink, and all the world that's
  without us be taken from us, I hope I have some tricks
  in this brain of mine shall not let us perish.                  210

  _Sea._ Well said, Frank, i'faith. O, my nimble-spirited
  Quicksilver! 'Fore God! would thou hadst been our
  colonel!

  _Pe._ I like his spirit rarely; but I see no means he
  has to support that spirit.

  _Qu._ Go to, knight! I have more means than thou art
  aware of. I have not lived amongst goldsmiths and
  goldmakers all this while, but I have learned something
  worthy of my time with 'hem. And not to let thee stink
  where thou stand'st, knight, I'll let thee know some of
  my skill presently.                                             221

  _Sea._ Do, good Frank, I beseech thee.

  _Qu._ I will blanch copper so cunningly that it shall
  endure all proofs but the test: it shall endure malleation,
  it shall have the ponderosity of Luna, and the tenacity
  of Luna--by no means friable.

  _Pe._ 'Slight! where learn'st thou these terms, trow?

  _Qu._ Tush, knight! the terms of this art every ignorant
  quacksalver is perfect in; but I'll tell you how yourself
  shall blanch copper thus cunningly. Take arsenic, otherwise
  called realga (which indeed is plain ratsbane); sublime
  'hem three or four times, then take the sublimate
  of this realga, and put 'hem into a glass, into chymia,
  and let them have a convenient decoction natural, four-and-twenty
  hours, and he will become perfectly fixed;
  then take this fixed powder, and project him upon well-purged
  copper, _et habebis magisterium_.                               237

  _Ambo._ Excellent Frank, let us hug thee!

  _Qu._ Nay, this I will do besides. I'll take you off
  twelvepence from every angel, with a kind of aquafortis,
  and never deface any part of the image.

  _Pe._ But then it will want weight?

  _Qu._ You shall restore that thus: Take your sal achime
  prepared, and your distilled urine, and let your angels lie
  in it but four-and-twenty hours, and they shall have their
  perfect weight again. Come on, now; I hold this is
  enough to put some spirit into the livers of you; I'll
  infuse more another time. We have saluted the proud
  air long enough with our bare sconces. Now will I have
  you to a wench's house of mine at London, there make
  shift to shift us, and after, take such fortunes as the stars
  shall assign us.                                                252

  _Ambo._ Notable Frank, we will ever adore thee!

                                                           [_Exeunt._

           _Enter_ Drawer, _with_ WINIFRED _new-attired_.

  _Wi._ Now, sweet friend, you have brought me near
  enough your tavern, which I desired I might with some
  colour be seen near, inquiring for my husband, who, I
  must tell you, stole[77] thither the last night with my wet
  gown we have left at your friend's, which, to continue
  your former honest kindness, let me pray you to keep
  close from the knowledge of any: and so, with all vow
  of your requital, let me now entreat you to leave me to
  my woman's wit and fortune.                                     262

  _Dr._ All shall be done you desire; and so all the fortune
  you can wish for attend you.

                                                      [_Exit_ Drawer.

                         _Enter_ SECURITY.

  _Sec._ I will once more to this unhappy tavern before I
  shift one rag of me more; that I may there know what
  is left behind, and what news of their passengers. I have
  bought me a hat and band with the little money I had
  about me, and made the streets a little leave staring at
  my nightcap.

  _Wi._ O, my dear husband! where have you been
  to-night? All night abroad at taverns! Rob me of
  my garments! and fare as one run away from me!
  Alas! is this seemly for a man of your credit, of your
  age, and affection to your wife?                                275

  _Sec._ What should I say?--how miraculously sorts
  this!--was not I at home, and called thee last night?

  _Wi._ Yes, sir, the harmless sleep you broke; and my
  answer to you would have witnessed it, if you had had
  the patience to have stayed and answered me; but your
  so sudden retreat made me imagine you were gone to
  Master Bramble's, and so rested patient and hopeful
  of your coming again, till this your unbelieved absence
  brought me abroad with no less than wonder, to seek
  you where the false knight had carried you.                     285

  _Sec._ Villain and monster that I was! how have I
  abused thee! I was suddenly gone indeed; for my sudden
  jealousy transferred me. I will say no more but this:
  dear wife, I suspected thee.

  _Wi._ Did you suspect me?                                       290

  _Sec._ Talk not of it, I beseech thee; I am ashamed to
  imagine it. I will home, I will home; and every morning
  on my knees ask thee heartily forgiveness.

                                                           [_Exeunt._

  [_Slit._] Now will I descend my honourable prospect;
  the farthest seeing sea-mark of the world; no marvel,
  then, if I could see two miles about me. I hope the
  red tempest's anger be now over-blown, which sure, I
  think, Heaven sent as a punishment for profaning holy
  Saint Luke's memory[78] with so ridiculous a custom.
  Thou dishonest satire! farewell to honest married
  men, farewell to all sorts and degrees of thee! Farewell,
  thou horn of hunger, that call'st the inns o' court to
  their manger! Farewell, thou horn of abundance, that
  adornest the headsmen of the commonwealth! Farewell,
  thou horn of direction, that is the city lanthorn!
  Farewell, thou horn of pleasure, the ensign of the huntsman!
  Farewell, thou horn of destiny, th' ensign of the
  married man! Farewell, thou horn tree, that bearest
  nothing but stone-fruit!                                        309

                                                             [_Exit._

     [73] Horn-fair was held at Charlton on St. Luke's Day, 18th
     October.--The tradition was that King John cuckolded a miller who
     lived near Charlton, and compensated him by giving him all the
     land that he could see from his house, looking down the river;
     the condition being that the miller should walk round the estate
     annually on St. Luke's Day with a pair of buck's horns fastened
     on his head.

     [74] _I.e._, think you?

     [75] Old ed. "_Enter the_ Drawer _in the tavern before_."

     [76] A sneer at those who purchased the honour of knighthood from
     King James. As he spoke the words the actor mimick'd James'
     Scotch accent.

     [77] Old ed. "stale."

     [78] See note, p. 72. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote 73]


                              SCENE II.

                         _Goldsmiths' Row._

                         _Enter_ TOUCHSTONE.


  _To._ Ha, sirrah! thinks my knight adventurer we can no
  point of our compass? Do we not know nor-north-east,
  north-east-and-by-east, east-and-by-north? nor plain eastward?
  Ha! have we never heard of Virginia? nor the
  Cavallaria? nor the Colonoria? Can we discover no discoveries?
  Well, mine errant Sir Flash, and my runagate
  Quicksilver, you may drink drunk,[79] crack cans, hurl away
  a brown dozen of Monmouth caps[80] or so, in sea ceremony
  to your _bon voyage_; but for reaching any coast, save the
  coast of Kent or Essex, with this tide, or with this fleet, I'll
  be your warrant for a Gravesend toast. There's that gone
  afore will stay your admiral,[81] and vice-admiral and rear-admiral,
  were they all (as they are) but one pinnace,
  and under sail, as well as a remora,[82] doubt it not; and
  from this sconce,[83] without either powder or shot. Work
  upon that now. Nay, and you'll show tricks, we'll vie[84]
  with you a little. My daughter, his lady, was sent eastward
  by land, to a castle of his, i' the air (in what region
  I know not), and, as I hear, was glad to take up her
  lodging in her coach, she and her two waiting-women, her
  maid, and her mother, like three snails in a shell, and the
  coachman a-top on 'hem, I think. Since they have all
  found the way back again by Weeping Cross;[85] but I'll
  not see 'hem. And for two on 'hem, madam and her
  malkin, they are like to bite o' the bridle for William, as
  the poor horses have done all this while that hurried
  'hem, or else go graze o' the common. So should my
  Dame Touchstone too; but she has been my cross these
  thirty years, and I'll now keep her to fright away sprites,
  i'faith. I wonder I hear no news of my son Golding.
  He was sent for to the Guildhall this morning betimes,
  and I marvel at the matter; if I had not laid up comfort
  and hope in him, I should grow desperate of all.
  See! he is come i' my thought. How now, son? What
  news at the Court of Aldermen?                                   35

                          _Enter_ GOLDING.

  _Go._ Troth, sir, an accident somewhat strange, else it
  hath little in it worth the reporting.

  _To._ What? it is not borrowing of money, then?

  _Go._ No, sir; it hath pleased the worshipful commoners
  of the city to take me one i' their number at presentation
  of the inquest----

  _To._ Ha!

  _Go._ And the alderman of the ward wherein I dwell to
  appoint me his deputy----

  _To._ How?                                                       45

  _Go._ In which place I have had an oath administered
  me, since I went.

  _To._ Now, my dear and happy son, let me kiss thy
  new worship, and a little boast mine own happiness in
  thee. What a fortune was it (or rather my judgment,
  indeed) for me, first to see that in his disposition which
  a whole city so conspires to second! Ta'en into the
  livery of his company the first day of his freedom! Now
  (not a week married) chosen commoner and alderman's
  deputy in a day! Note but the reward of a thrifty
  course. The wonder of his time! Well, I will honour
  Master Alderman for this act (as becomes me), and shall
  think the better of the Common Council's wisdom and
  worship while I live, for thus meeting, or but coming
  after me, in the opinion of his desert. Forward, my
  sufficient son! and as this is the first, so esteem it the
  least step to that high and prime honour that expects thee.

  _Go._ Sir, as I was not ambitious of this, so I covet no
  higher place; it hath dignity enough, if it will but save
  me from contempt; and I had rather my bearing in
  this or any other office should add worth to it, than the
  place give the least opinion to me.                              67

  _To._ Excellently spoken! This modest answer of
  thine blushes, as if it said, I will wear scarlet shortly.
  Worshipful son! I cannot contain myself, I must tell
  thee; I hope to see thee one o' the monuments of our
  city, and reckoned among her worthies to be remembered
  the same day with the Lady Ramsey[86]  and grave
  Gresham, when the famous fable of Whittington and
  his puss shall be forgotten, and thou and thy acts become
  the posies for hospitals; when thy name shall be written
  upon conduits, and thy deeds, played i' thy lifetime, by the
  best companies of actors,[87] and be called their get-penny.[88]
  This I divine. This I prophesy.                                  79

  _Go._ Sir, engage not your expectation farther than my
  abilities will answer; I, that know mine own strengths,
  fear 'hem; and there is so seldom a loss in promising
  the least, that commonly it brings with it a welcome
  deceit. I have other news for you, sir.

  _To._ None more welcome, I am sure?

  _Go._ They have their degree of welcome, I dare affirm.
  The colonel and all his company, this morning putting
  forth drunk from Billingsgate, had like to have been cast
  away o' this side Greenwich; and (as I have intelligence
  by a false brother) are come dropping to town like so
  many masterless men, i' their doublets and hose, without
  hat, or cloak, or any other----                                  92

  _To._ A miracle! the justice of Heaven! Where are
  they? let's go presently and lay[89] for 'hem.

  _Go._ I have done that already, sir, both by constables
  and other officers, who shall take 'hem at their old
  Anchor, and with less tumult or suspicion than if yourself
  were seen in't--and under colour of a great press
  that is now abroad, and they shall here be brought afore
  me.                                                             100

  _To._ Prudent and politic son! Disgrace 'hem all that
  ever thou canst; their ship I have already arrested.
  How to my wish it falls out, that thou hast the place of
  a justicer upon 'hem! I am partly glad of the injury
  done to me, that thou may'st punish it. Be severe i' thy
  place, like a new officer o' the first quarter, unreflected.
  You hear how our lady is come back with her train,
  from the invisible castle?

  _Go._ No; where is she?                                         109

  _To._ Within; but I ha' not seen her yet, nor her
  mother, who now begins to wish her daughter undubbed,
  they say, and that she had walked a foot-pace with her
  sister. Here they come; stand back.

          _Enter_ MISTRESS TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED,
                           _and_ SINDEFY.

  God save your ladyship--save your good ladyship!
  Your ladyship is welcome from your enchanted castle,
  so are your beauteous retinue.  I hear your knight
  errant is travelled on strange adventures. Surely, in my
  mind, your ladyship hath fished fair, and caught a frog,
  as the saying is.

  _Mist. T._ Speak to your father, madam, and kneel
  down.                                                           121

  _Ge._ Kneel? I hope I am not brought so low yet;
  though my knight be run away, and has sold my land, I
  am a lady still.

  _To._ Your ladyship says true, madam; and it is fitter
  and a greater decorum, that I should curtsey to you that
  are a knight's wife, and a lady, than you be brought o'
  your knees to me, who am a poor cullion[90] and your
  father.

  _Ge._ Law!--my father knows his duty.                           130

  _Mist. T._ O child!

  _To._ And therefore I do desire your ladyship, my good
  Lady Flash, in all humility, to depart my obscure cottage,
  and return in quest of your bright and most transparent
  castle, however presently concealed to mortal eyes. And
  as for one poor woman of your train here, I will take that
  order, she shall no longer be a charge unto you, nor help
  to spend your ladyship; she shall stay at home with me,
  and not go abroad, nor put you to the pawning of an
  odd coach-horse or three wheels, but take part with the
  Touchstone. If we lack, we will not complain to your
  ladyship. And so, good madam, with your damosel
  here, please you to let us see your straight backs in
  equipage; for truly here is no roost for such chickens as
  you are, or birds o' your feather, if it like your
  ladyship.                                                       146

  _Ge._ Marry, fist[91] o' your kindness! I thought as
  much. Come away, Sin, we shall as soon get a fart
  from a dead man,[92] as a farthing of courtesy here.

  _Mi._ O, good sister!

  _Ge._ Sister, sir reverence! Come away, I say, hunger
  drops out at his nose.

  _Go._ O, madam, fair words never hurt the tongue.

  _Ge._ How say you by that? You come out with your
  gold-ends now!

  _Mist. T._ Stay, lady-daughter; good husband!                   156

  _To._ Wife, no man loves his fetters, be they made of
  gold. I list not ha' my head fastened under my child's
  girdle; as she has brewed, so let her drink, o' God's
  name. She went witless to wedding, now she may go
  wisely a-begging. It's but honeymoon yet with her
  ladyship; she has coach-horses, apparel, jewels, yet left;
  she needs care for no friends, nor take knowledge of
  father, mother, brother, sister, or anybody. When those
  are pawned or spent, perhaps we shall return into the
  list of her acquaintance.                                       166

  _Ge._ I scorn it, i'faith. Come, Sin.

  _Mist. T._ O madam, why do you provoke your father
  thus?

                                    [_Exeunt_ GERTRUDE _and_ SINDEFY.

  _To._ Nay, nay; e'en let pride go afore, shame will
  follow after, I warrant you. Come, why dost thou weep
  now? Thou art not the first good cow hast had an ill
  calf, I trust.

                         _Enter_ Constable.

  What's the news with that fellow?

  _Go._ Sir, the knight and your man Quicksilver are
  without; will you ha' 'hem brought in?

  _To._ O, by any means. [_Exit Constable._] And, son,
  here's a chair; appear terrible unto 'hem on the first
  interview. Let them behold the melancholy of a magistrate,
  and taste the fury of a citizen in office.                      180

  _Go._ Why, sir, I can do nothing to 'hem, except you
  charge 'hem with somewhat.

  _To._ I will charge 'hem and recharge 'hem, rather than
  authority should want foil to set it off.

  _Go._ No, good sir, I will not.

  _To._ Son, it is your place; by any means----

  _Go._ Believe it, I will not, sir.

       _Enter_ Sir PETRONEL, QUICKSILVER, Constable, Officers.

  _Pe._ How misfortune pursues us still in our misery!

  _Qu._ Would it had been my fortune to have been
  trussed up at Wapping[93] rather than ever ha' come here!

  _Pe._ Or mine, to have famished in the island!                  191

  _Qu._ Must Golding sit upon us?

  _Co._ You might carry an M. under your girdle[94] to
  Master Deputy's worship.

  _Go._ What are those, Master Constable?

  _Co._ An't please your worship, a couple of masterless
  men I pressed for the Low Countries, sir.

  _Go._ Why do you not carry 'hem to Bridewell,
  according to your order, they may be shipped away?

  _Co._ An't please your worship, one of 'hem says he is
  a knight; and we thought good to show him to your
  worship, for our discharge.                                     202

  _Go._ Which is he?

  _Co._ This, sir.

  _Go._ And what's the other?

  _Co._ A knight's fellow, sir, an't please you.

  _Go._ What! a knight and his fellow thus accoutred?
  Where are their hats and feathers, their rapiers and their
  cloaks?

  _Qu._ O, they mock us.                                          210

  _Co._ Nay, truly, sir, they had cast both their feathers
  and hats too, before we see 'hem. Here's all their
  furniture, an't please you, that we found. They say
  knights are now to be known without feathers, like
  cockerels by their spurs, sir.

  _Go._ What are their names, say they?

  _To._ Very well this. He should not take knowledge
  of 'hem in his place, indeed.

  _Co._ This is Sir Petronel Flash.

  _To._ How!                                                      220

  _Co._ And this, Francis Quicksilver.

  _To._ Is't possible? I thought your worship had been
  gone for Virginia, sir; you are welcome home, sir.
  Your worship has made a quick return, it seems, and no
  doubt a good voyage. Nay, pray you be covered, sir.
  How did your biscuit hold out, sir? Methought I had
  seen this gentleman afore--good Master Quicksilver!
  How a degree to the southward has changed you!

  _Go._ Do you know 'hem, father? Forbear your offers
  a little, you shall be heard anon.                              230

  _To._ Yes, Master Deputy; I had a small venture with
  them in the voyage--a thing called a son-in-law, or so.
  Officers, you may let 'hem stand alone, they will not run
  away; I'll give my word for them. A couple of very
  honest gentlemen. One of 'hem was my prentice, Master
  Quicksilver here; and when he had two year to serve,
  kept his whore and his hunting nag, would play his
  hundred pound at gresco,[95] or primero, as familiarly (and
  all o' my purse) as any bright piece of crimson on 'hem
  all; had his changeable trunks of apparel standing at
  livery with his mare, his chest of perfumed linen, and his
  bathing-tubs, which when I told him of, why he!--he
  was a gentleman, and I a poor Cheapside groom. The
  remedy was, we must part. Since when, he hath had
  the gift of gathering up some small parcels of mine, to[96]
  the value of five hundred pound, dispersed among my
  customers, to furnish this his Virginia venture; wherein
  this knight was the chief, Sir Flash--one that married a
  daughter of mine, ladyfied her, turned two thousand
  pounds' worth of good land of hers into cash within the
  first week, bought her a new gown and a coach; sent
  her to seek her fortune by land, whilst himself prepared
  for his fortune by sea; took in fresh flesh at Billingsgate,
  for his own diet, to serve him the whole voyage--the
  wife of a certain usurer called Security, who hath been
  the broker for 'hem in all this business. Please, Master
  Deputy, work upon that now.                                     257

  _Go._ If my worshipful father have ended----

  _To._ I have, it shall please Master Deputy.

  _Go._ Well then, under correction----

  _To._ Now, son, come over 'hem with some fine gird, as
  thus, "Knight, you shall be encountered," that is, had
  to the Counter; or, "Quicksilver, I will put you into a
  crucible," or so.

  _Go._ Sir Petronel Flash, I am sorry to see such flashes
  as these proceed from a gentleman of your quality and
  rank; for mine own part, I could wish I could say I
  could not see them; but such is the misery of magistrates
  and men in place, that they must not wink at offenders.
  Take him aside; I will hear you anon, sir.                      270

  _To._ I like this well, yet; there's some grace i' the
  knight left--he cries.

  _Go._ Francis Quicksilver, would God thou hadst turned
  quacksalver, rather than run into these dissolute and
  lewd courses! It is great pity; thou art a proper young
  man, of an honest and clean face, somewhat near a good
  one; God hath done his part in thee; but thou hast
  made too much, and been too proud of that face, with
  the rest of thy body; for maintenance of which in neat
  and garish attire, only to be looked upon by some light
  housewives, thou hast prodigally consumed much of thy
  master's estate; and being by him gently admonished
  at several times, hast returned thyself haughty and rebellious
  in thine answers, thundering out uncivil comparisons,
  requiting all his kindness with a coarse and
  harsh behaviour; never returning thanks for any one
  benefit, but receiving all as if they had been debts to
  thee, and no courtesies. I must tell thee, Francis, these
  are manifest signs of an ill-nature; and God doth often
  punish such pride and _outrecuidance_[97] with scorn and
  infamy, which is the worst of misfortune. My worshipful
  father, what do you please to charge them withal? From
  the press I will free 'hem, Master Constable.                   293

  _Co._ Then I'll leave your worship, sir.

  _Go._ No, you may stay; there will be other matters
  against 'hem.

  _To._ Sir, I do charge this gallant, Master Quicksilver,
  on suspicion of felony; and the knight as being accessary
  in the receipt of my goods.

  _Qu._ O God, sir!                                               300

  _To._ Hold thy peace, impudent varlet, hold thy peace!
  With what forehead or face dost thou offer to chop logic
  with me, having run such a race of riot as thou hast
  done? Does not the sight of this worshipful man's
  fortune and temper confound thee, that was thy younger
  fellow in household, and now come to have the place of
  a judge upon thee? Dost not observe this? Which of
  all thy gallants and gamesters, thy swearers and thy swaggerers,
  will come now to moan thy misfortune, or pity
  thy penury? They'll look out at a window, as thou ridest
  in triumph to Tyburn, and cry, "Yonder goes honest
  Frank, mad Quicksilver!" "He was a free boon companion,
  when he had money," says one; "Hang him,
  fool!" says another; "he could not keep it when he had
  it!" "A pox o' th' cullion, his master," says a third,
  "he has brought him to this;" when their pox of pleasure,
  and their piles of perdition, would have been better
  bestowed upon thee, that hast ventured for 'hem with
  the best, and by the clue of thy knavery brought thyself
  weeping to the cart of calamity.                                320

  _Qu._ Worshipful master!

  _To._ Offer not to speak, crocodile; I will not hear a
  sound come from thee. Thou hast learnt to whine at
  the play yonder. Master Deputy, pray you commit 'hem
  both to safe custody, till I be able farther to charge
  'hem.

  _Qu._ O me! what an infortunate thing am I!

  _Pe._ Will you not take security, sir?

  _To._ Yes, marry, will I, Sir Flash, if I can find him,
  and charge him as deep as the best on you. He has
  been the plotter of all this; he is your enginer,[98] I hear.
  Master Deputy, you'll dispose of these. In the meantime,
  I'll to my lord mayor, and get his warrant to seize
  that serpent Security into my hands, and seal up both
  house and goods to the king's use or my satisfaction.           335

  _Go._ Officers, take 'hem to the Counter.

  _Qu._ } O God!
  _Pe._ }

  _To._ Nay, on, on! you see the issue of your sloth. Of
  sloth cometh pleasure, of pleasure cometh riot, of riot
  comes whoring, of whoring comes spending, of spending
  comes want, of want comes theft, of theft comes hanging;
  and there is my Quicksilver fixed.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [79] "'Slid now, I'm quite altered! ... sit up late till it be
     early; _drink drunk_ till I am sober."--Middleton, iii. 254.

     [80] "Monmouth caps" were caps worn by sailors. (See "The Ballad
     of the Caps" in Fairholt's _Satirical Songs and Poems on
     Costume_, p. 115.)

     [81] The chief ship of a fleet.

     [82] A barnacle.--It was supposed to be able to stop a ship's
     course by adhering to the rudder.

     [83] "Sconce" = (1) head, (2) fort.

     [84] _Vie_ was a term in card-playing; it meant to back
     one's cards against an opponent's.

     [85] A proverbial saying. See Nares' _Glossary_.

     [86] Lady Mary Ramsey, second wife of Sir Thomas Ramsey (who was
     lord mayor in 1577). She was a benefactress of Christ's Hospital
     and other institutions: she died in 1596. See Stow's
     _Annales_, ed. 1720, i. 278.

     [87] There is an allusion to Heywood's play, _If you know not
     me you know nobody_. The _First Part_ was printed in
     1605; the _Second Part_ in 1606. In the prologue to the
     _First Part_ Heywood mentions that the play had enjoyed
     extraordinary popularity; and from the same source we gather that
     it had been written some considerable time before the date of
     publication. The _Second Part_ is largely taken up with the
     building of Gresham's Royal Exchange. Lady Ramsey is one of the
     characters.

     [88] A theatrical term for a profitable performance. See
     Middleton, iii. 134.

     [89] _I.e._, set officers in ambush to arrest them.

     [90] Mean rascal.

     [91] An indelicate observation.--"Vessifier. To breed a
     _fyste_, to make breake wind, or let a _fyste_."--_Cotgrave._

     [92] A proverbial expression.--"J'aymeroy autant tirer un pet
     d'un asne mort, que, &c.--I would as soone undertake to _get a
     fart of a dead man_, as, &c."--_Cotgrave._

     [93] Where pirates were hanged.

     [94] "You might carry an M. under your girdle" = you might have
     the civility to use the term _Master_. Cf. Heywood's _A
     Maidenhead well Lost_, iii. 2:--

          "_Wife._ Sirrah.

          _Clown._ Madam.

          _Lan._ Why dost view me thus?

          _Clown._ To see if the tailor that made your gown hath
          _put ne'er an M. under your girdle_: there belongs more
          to beaten satin than _sirrah_."

     [95] A game at cards.

     [96] Old ed. "so."

     [97] Presumption, arrogance.--Ben. Jonson has this French word in
     _Cynthia's Revels_, v. 2. Nares quotes an instance from
     Chapman's _Monsieur d'Olive_.

     [98] Schemer.




                               ACT V.


                              SCENE I.

                       _Gertrude's lodging._

                  _Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ SINDEFY.


  _Ge._ Ah, Sin! hast thou ever read i' the chronicle of
  any lady and her waiting-woman driven to that extremity
  that we are, Sin?

  _Si._ Not I, truly, madam; and if I had, it were but
  cold comfort should come out of books now.

  _Ge._ Why, good faith, Sin, I could dine with a lamentable
  story, now. _O_[99] _hone, hone, o no nera!_ &c. Canst
  thou tell ne'er a one, Sin?

  _Si._ None but mine own, madam, which is lamentable
  enough: first to be stolen from my friends, which were
  worshipful and of good accompt, by a prentice, in the
  habit and disguise of a gentleman, and here brought up
  to London, and promised marriage, and now likely to be
  forsaken, for he is in possibility to be hanged!                 14

  _Ge._ Nay, weep not, good Sin; my Petronel is in as
  good possibility as he. Thy miseries are nothing to
  mine, Sin; I was more than promised marriage, Sin; I
  had it, Sin; and was made a lady; and by a knight,
  Sin; which is now as good as no knight, Sin. And I
  was born in London, which is more than brought up,
  Sin; and already forsaken, which is past likelihood,
  Sin; and instead of land i' the country, all my
  knight's living lies i' the Counter, Sin; there's his
  castle now!                                                      24

  _Si._ Which he cannot be forced out of, madam.

  _Ge._ Yes, if he would live hungry a week or two.
  "Hunger," they say, "breaks stone walls." But he is
  e'en well enough served, Sin, that so soon as ever he
  had got my hand to the sale of my inheritance, run
  away from me, and I had been his punk, God bless us!
  Would the Knight o' the Sun,[100] or Palmerin of England,
  have used their ladies so, Sin? or Sir Lancelot? or Sir
  Tristram?

  _Si._ I do not know, madam.                                      34

  _Ge._ Then thou know'st nothing, Sin. Thou art a
  fool, Sin. The knighthood nowadays are nothing like
  the knighthood of old time. They rid a-horseback; ours
  go a-foot. They were attended by their squires; ours
  by their lackeys. They went buckled in their armour;
  ours muffled in their cloaks. They travelled wildernesses
  and deserts; ours dare scarce walk the streets. They
  were still pressed to engage their honour; ours still
  ready to pawn their clothes. They would gallop on at
  sight of a monster; ours run away at sight of a sergeant.
  They would help poor ladies; ours make poor ladies.

  _Si._ Ay, madam, they were knights of the Round
  Table at Winchester, that sought adventures; but these
  of the Square Table at ordinaries, that sit at hazard.[101]      48

  _Ge._ True,[102] Sin, let him vanish. And tell me, what
  shall we pawn next?

  _Si._ Ay, marry, madam, a timely consideration; for
  our hostess (profane woman!) has sworn by bread and
  salt she will not trust us another meal.

  _Ge._ Let it stink in her hand then. I'll not be beholding
  to her. Let me see, my jewels be gone, and my
  gowns, and my red velvet petticoat that I was married
  in, and my wedding silk stockings, and all thy best
  apparel, poor Sin! Good faith, rather than thou
  shouldst pawn a rag more, I'd lay my ladyship in
  lavender[103]--if I knew where.                                  60

  _Si._ Alas, madam, your ladyship!

  _Ge._ Ay,--why?--you do not scorn my ladyship,
  though it is in a waistcoat? God's my life! you are a
  peat[104] indeed! Do I offer to mortgage my ladyship for
  you and for your avail, and do you turn the lip and the
  alas to my ladyship?

  _Si._ No, madam; but I make question who will lend
  anything upon it?                                                68

  _Ge._ Who?--marry, enow, I warrant you, if you'll seek
  'hem out. I'm sure I remember the time when I would
  ha' given one thousand pounds (if I had had it) to have
  been a lady; and I hope I was not bred and born with
  that appetite alone: some other gentle-born o' the city
  have the same longing, I trust. And for my part, I
  would afford 'hem a penn'orth; my ladyship is little the
  worse for the wearing, and yet I would bate a good
  deal of the sum. I would lend it (let me see) for forty
  pound in hand, Sin; that would apparel us; and ten
  pound a year, that would keep me and you, Sin (with
  our needles); and we should never need to be beholding
  to our scurvy parents. Good Lord! that there are
  no fairies nowadays, Sin!                                        82

  _Si._ Why, madam?

  _Ge._ To do miracles, and bring ladies money. Sure,
  if we lay in a cleanly house, they would haunt it, Sin.
  I'll try. I'll sweep the chamber soon at night, and set
  a dish of water o' the hearth. A fairy may come, and
  bring a pearl or a diamond. We do not know, Sin.
  Or, there may be a pot of gold hid o' the backside,[105] if
  we had tools to dig for't? Why may not we two rise
  early i' the morning, Sin, afore anybody is up, and find
  a jewel i' the streets worth a hundred pound? May not
  some great court-lady, as she comes from revels at midnight,
  look out of her coach as 'tis running, and lose
  such a jewel, and we find it? Ha?                                95

  _Si._ They are pretty waking dreams, these.

  _Ge._ Or may not some old usurer be drunk overnight,
  with a bag of money, and leave it behind him on a stall?
  For God's sake, Sin, let's rise to-morrow by break of
  day, and see. I protest, law, if I had as much money
  as an alderman, I would scatter some on't i' th' streets
  for poor ladies to find, when their knights were laid up.
  And, now I remember my song o' the Golden Shower,
  why may not I have such a fortune? I'll sing it, and
  try what luck I shall have after it.                            105

       "Fond fables tell of old,
          How Jove in Danäe's lap
        Fell in a shower of gold,
          By which she caught a clap;
          O had it been my hap                                    110
       (How ere the blow doth threaten),
          So well I like the play,
          That I could wish all day
        And night to be so beaten."

                    _Enter_ Mistress TOUCHSTONE.

  O here's my mother! good luck, I hope. Ha' you
  brought any money, mother? Pray you, mother, your
  blessing. Nay, sweet mother, do not weep.

  _Mist. T._ God bless you! I would I were in my
  grave!                                                          119

  _Ge._ Nay, dear mother, can you steal no more money
  from my father? Dry your eyes, and comfort me.
  Alas! it is my knight's fault, and not mine, that I am
  in a waistcoat, and attired thus simply.

  _Mist. T._ Simply, 'tis better than thou deservest.
  Never whimper for the matter. Thou shouldst have
  looked before thou hadst leapt. Thou wert afire to be
  a lady, and now your ladyship and you may both blow
  at the coal, for aught I know. Self do, self have. The
  hasty person never wants woe, they say.                         129

  _Ge._ Nay, then, mother, you should ha' looked to it.
  A body would think you were the older; I did but my
  kind, I. He was a knight, and I was fit to be a lady.
  'Tis not lack of liking, but lack of living, that severs us.
  And you talk like yourself and a cittiner in this, i'faith.
  You show what husband you come on, I wis. You
  smell the Touchstone--he that will do more for his
  daughter, that he has married [to] a scurvy gold-end man[106]
  and his prentice, than he will for his t'other daughter,
  that has wedded a knight and his customer. By this
  light, I think he is not my legitimate father.                  140

  _Si._ O, good madam, do not take up your mother so!

  _Mist. T._ Nay, nay, let her e'en alone. Let her ladyship
  grieve me still, with her bitter taunts and terms. I
  have not dole enough to see her in this miserable case,
  I--without her velvet gowns, without ribands, without
  jewels, without French-wires, or cheat-bread,[107] or quails,
  or a little dog, or a gentleman-usher, or anything, indeed,
  that's fit for a lady----

  _Si._ Except her tongue.                                        149

  _Mist. T._ And I not able to relieve her, neither, being
  kept so short by my husband. Well, God knows my
  heart; I did little think that ever she should have had
  need of her sister Golding.

  _Ge._ Why, mother, I ha' not yet. Alas! good mother,
  be not intoxicate for me; I am well enough; I would
  not change husbands with my sister, I. The[108] leg of a
  lark is better than the body of a kite.

  _Mist. T._ I know that: but----

  _Ge._ What, sweet mother, what?

  _Mist. T._ It's but ill food when nothing's left but the
  claw.                                                           161

  _Ge._ That's true, mother. Ay me!

  _Mist. T._ Nay, sweet lady-bird,[109] sigh not. Child,
  madam--why do you weep thus? Be of good cheer; I
  shall die if you cry, and mar your complexion thus.

  _Ge._ Alas, mother, what should I do?

  _Mist. T._ Go to thy sister's, child; she'll be proud thy
    ladyship will come under her roof. She'll win thy
  father to release thy knight, and redeem thy gowns, and
  thy coach and thy horses, and set thee up again.                170

  _Ge._ But will she get him to set my knight up too?

  _Mist. T._ That she will, or anything else thou'lt ask
  her.

  _Ge._ I will begin to love her if I thought she would do
  this.

  _Mist. T._ Try her, good chuck,[110] I warrant thee.

  _Ge._ Dost thou think she'll do't?

  _Si._ Ay, madam, and be glad you will receive it.

  _Mist. T._ That's a good maiden; she tells you true.
  Come, I'll take order for your debts i' the alehouse.           180

  _Ge._ Go, Sin, and pray for thy Frank, as I will for my
  Pet.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [99] See Chappell's _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, i.
     369.

     [100] See note, vol. i. p. 30.

     [101] _Hazard_ was the name of a game at dice. Cotton in the
     _Complete Gamester_, 1674 (pp. 67-72), devotes a chapter to
     it. He remarks:--"Certainly Hazard is the most bewitching game
     that is played on the dice, for when a man begins to play he
     knows not when to leave off; and having once accustomed himself
     to play at Hazard, he hardly ever after minds anything else."

     [102] Old ed. "Trie."

     [103] "Lay in lavender" = pawn.

     [104] A spoilt, self-willed girl.

     [105] "Backside"--the yard at the back of a house.

     [106] "Gold-end man"--one who buys ends (_i.e._, broken
     pieces) of gold. See Gifford's _Jonson_, ed. 1875, iv. 76.

     [107] Fine wheaten bread.

     [108] An old proverb: it is among John Heywood's _Proverbs_.

     [109] This term of endearment is applied by the Nurse to Juliet
     (_Rom. and Jul._, 1. iii.)

     [110] A favourite word with Marston.


                              SCENE II.

                         _Goldsmiths' Row._

                 _Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, WOLF.


  _To._ I will receive no letters, Master Wolf; you shall
  pardon me.

  _Go._ Good father, let me entreat you.

  _To._ Son Golding, I will not be tempted; I find mine
  own easy nature, and I know not what a well-penned
  subtle letter may work upon it; there may be tricks,
  packing, do you see? Return with your packet, sir.

  _Wo._ Believe it, sir, you need fear no packing here;
  these are but letters of submission all.

  _To._ Sir, I do look for no submission. I will bear
  myself in this like blind Justice. Work upon that now.
  When the sessions come they shall hear from me.                  12

  _Go._ From whom come your letters, Master Wolf?

  _Wo._ And't please you, sir, one from Sir Petronel,
  another from Francis Quicksilver, and a third from old
  Security, who is almost mad in prison. There are two
  to your worship; one from Master Francis, sir, another
  from the knight.

  _To._ I do wonder, Master Wolf, why you should travail
  thus, in a business so contrary to kind, or the nature o'
  your place: that you, being the keeper of a prison,
  should labour the release of your prisoners; whereas,
  methinks, it were far more natural and kindly in you to
  be ranging about for more, and not let these 'scape you
  have already under the tooth. But they say you Wolves,
  when you ha' sucked the blood, once that they are dry,
  you ha' done.                                                    27

  _Wo._ Sir, your worship may descant as you please o'
  my name; but I protest I was never so mortified with
  any men's discourse or behaviour in prison; yet I have
  had of all sorts of men i' the kingdom under my
  keys; and almost of all religions i' the land, as
  Papist, Protestant, Puritan, Brownist, Anabaptist, Millenary,
  Family-o'-Love, Jew, Turk, Infidel, Atheist, Good-Fellow,
  &c.

  _Go._ And which of all these, thinks Master Wolf, was
  the best religion?                                               37

  _Wo._ Troth, Master Deputy, they that pay fees best:
  we never examine their consciences farther.

  _Go._ I believe you, Master Wolf. Good faith, sir,
  here's a great deal of humility i' these letters.

  _Wo._ Humility, sir? Ay, were your worship an eyewitness
  of it you would say so. The knight will i' the
  Knight's Ward,[111] do what we can, sir; and Master Quicksilver
  would be i' the Hole if we would let him. I never
  knew or saw prisoners more penitent, or more devout.
  They will sit you up all night singing of psalms and
  edifying the whole prison; only Security sings a note
  too high sometimes, because he lies i' the Twopenny
  Ward, far off, and cannot take his tune. The neighbours
  cannot rest for him, but come every morning to ask
  what godly prisoners we have.                                    52

  _To._ Which on 'hem is't is so devout--the knight or
  the t'other?

  _Wo._ Both, sir; but the young man especially. I
  never heard his like. He has cut his hair too. He is
  so well given, and has such good gifts, he can tell you
  almost all the stories of the _Book of Martyrs_, and speak
  you all the _Sick Man's Salve_[112] without book.

  _To._ Ay, if he had had grace--he was brought up
  where it grew, I wis. On, Master Wolf.                           61

  _Wo._ And he has converted one Fangs, a sergeant, a
  fellow could neither write nor read; he was called the
  Bandog o' the Counter; and he has brought him already
  to pare his nails and say his prayers; and 'tis hoped he
  will sell his place shortly, and become an intelligencer.

  _To._ No more; I am coming already. If I should
  give any farther care I were taken. Adieu, good Master
  Wolf. Son, I do feel mine own weaknesses; do not
  importune me. Pity is a rheum that I am subject to;
  but I will resist it. Master Wolf, fish is cast away that
  is cast in dry pools. Tell hypocrisy it will not do; I
  have touched and tried too often; I am yet proof, and
  I will remain so; when the sessions come they shall hear
  from me. In the meantime, to all suits, to all entreaties,
  to all letters, to all tricks, I will be deaf as an adder,
  and blind as a beetle, lay mine ear to the ground, and
  lock mine eyes i' my hand, against all temptations.              78

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Go._ You see, Master Wolf, how inexorable he is.
  There is no hope to recover him. Pray you commend
  me to my brother knight, and to my fellow Francis;
  present 'hem with this small token of my love; tell 'hem,
  I wish I could do 'hem any worthier office; but in this,
  'tis desperate: yet I will not fail to try the uttermost of
  my power for 'hem. And, sir, as far as I have any
  credit with you, pray you let 'hem want nothing; though
  I am not ambitious they should know so much.                     87

  _Wo._ Sir, both your actions and words speak you to
  be a true gentleman. They shall know only what is fit,
  and no more.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [111] The _Knight's Ward_, the _Twopenny Ward_, and the
     _Hole_ were different divisions of a prison: see Fenner's
     _Compter's Commonwealth_, 1617. Sir Petronel showed his
     humility by choosing the inferior accommodation of the
     _Knight's Ward_ when it was open to him to _lie of the
     Master's side_. Cf. _Westward Ho_, iii. 2:--

          "_Monopoly._ Which is the dearest ward in prison,
          Sergeant? the Knight's Ward?

          _Ambush._ No, sir, the Master's side."

     [112] A treatise by Thomas Becon, originally published in 1561.
     It was very popular, and is frequently mentioned by the
     dramatists.


                             SCENE III.

                           _The Compter._

                  _Enter_ HOLDFAST _and_ BRAMBLE.


  _Ho._ Who would you speak with, sir?

  _Br._ I would speak with one Security, that is prisoner
  here.

  _Ho._ Y'are welcome, sir. Stay there, I'll call him to
  you. Master Security!

                         _Enter_ SECURITY.

  _Sec._ Who calls?

  _Ho._ Here's a gentleman would speak with you.

  _Sec._ What is he? Is't one that grafts my forehead
  now I am in prison, and comes to see how the horns
  shoot up and prosper?                                            10

  _Ho._ You must pardon him, sir; the old man is a little
  crazed with his imprisonment.

  _Sec._ What say you to me, sir? Look you here.--My
  learned counsel, Master Bramble! cry you mercy, sir!
  When saw you my wife?

  _Br._ She is now at my house, sir; and desired me
  that I would come to visit you, and inquire of you your
  case, that we might work some means to get you forth.            18

  _Sec._ My case,[113] Master Bramble, is stone walls and
  iron grates; you see it, this is the weakest part on't.
  And for getting me forth, no means but hang myself,
  and so to be carried forth, from which they have here
  bound me in intolerable bands.

  _Br._ Why, but what is't you are in for, sir?

  _Sec._ For my sins, for my sins, sir, whereof marriage is
  the greatest. O, had I never married, I had never
  known this purgatory, to which hell is a kind of cool
  bath in respect; my wife's confederacy, sir, with old
  Touchstone, that she might keep her jubilee and the
  feast of her new moon. Do you understand me, sir?                30

                        _Enter_ QUICKSILVER.

  _Qu._ Good sir, go in and talk with him. The light
  does him harm, and his example will be hurtful to the
  weak prisoners. Fie! father Security, that you'll be still
  so profane! Will nothing humble you?

                                   [_Exeunt_ SECURITY, BRAMBLE, _and_
                                                       HOLDFAST.[114]

              _Enter two_ Prisoners, _with a_ Friend.

  _Fr._ What's he?

  _1st Pr._ O, he is a rare young man! Do you not
  know him?

  _Fr._ Not I. I never saw him, I can remember.

  _2nd Pr._ Why, it is he that was the gallant prentice of
  London--Master Touchstone's man.                                 40

  _Fr._ Who?--Quicksilver?

  _1st Pr._ Ay, this is he.

  _Fr._ Is this he? They say he has been a gallant
  indeed.

  _1st Pr._ O, the royallest fellow that ever was bred up
  i' the city! He would play you his thousand pound
  a-night at dice; keep knights' and lords' company; go
  with them to bawdy-houses; had his six men in a livery;
  kept a stable of hunting-horses, and his wench in her
  velvet gown and her cloth of silver. Here's one knight
  with him here in prison.                                         51

  _Fr._ And how miserably he is changed!

  _1st Pr._ O, that's voluntary in him: he gave away all
  his rich clothes as soon as ever he came in here among
  the prisoners; and will eat o' the basket,[115] for humility.

  _Fr._ Why will he do so?

  _1st Pr._ Alas, he has no hope of life! He mortifies
  himself. He does but linger on till the sessions.

  _2nd Pr._ O, he has penned the best thing, that he calls
  his Repentance or his _Last Farewell_, that ever you heard.
  He is a pretty poet; and for prose--you would wonder
  how many prisoners he has helped out, with penning
  petitions for 'hem, and not take a penny. Look! this is
  the knight in the rug gown. Stand by.                            64

              _Enter_[116] Sir PETRONEL _and_ BRAMBLE.

  _Br._ Sir, for Security's case, I have told him. Say he
  should be condemned to be carted or whipt for a bawd,
  or so, why, I'll lay an execution on him o' two hundred
  pound; let him acknowledge a judgment, he shall do it
  in half an hour; they shall not at all fetch him out without
  paying the execution, o' my word.                                70

  _Pe._ But can we not be bailed, Master Bramble?

  _Br._ Hardly; there are none of the judges in town,
  else you should remove yourself (in spite of him) with a
  _habeas corpus_. But if you have a friend to deliver your
  tale sensibly to some justice o' the town, that he may
  have feeling of it (do you see), you may be bailed; for
  as I understand the case, 'tis only done _in terrorem_; and
  you shall have an action of false imprisonment against
  him when you come out, and perhaps a thousand pound
  costs.                                                           80

                        _Enter_ Master WOLF.

  _Qu._ How now, Master Wolf?--what news?--what
  return?

  _Wo._ 'Faith, bad all: yonder will be no letters received.
  He says the sessions shall determine it. Only, Master
  Deputy Golding commends him to you, and with this
  token wishes he could do you other good.

  _Qu._ I thank him. Good Master Bramble, trouble
  our quiet no more; do not molest us in prison thus,
  with your winding devices; pray you depart. For my
  part, I commit my cause to Him that can succour me;
  let God work His will. Master Wolf, I pray you let this
  be distributed among the prisoners, and desire 'hem to
  pray for us.                                                     93

  _Wo._ It shall be done, Master Francis.

  _1st Pr._ An excellent temper!

  _2nd Pr._ Now God send him good luck!

                                 [_Exeunt_[117] _two_ Prisoners _and_
                                                              Friend.

  _Pe._ But what said my father-in-law, Master Wolf?

                         _Enter_ HOLDFAST.

  _Ho._ Here's one would speak with you, sir.

  _Wo._ I'll tell you anon, Sir Petronel; who is't?

  _Ho._ A gentleman, sir, that will not be seen.                  100

                          _Enter_ GOLDING.

  _Wo._ Where is he? Master Deputy! your worship is
  welcome----

  _Go._ Peace!

  _Wo._ Away, sirrah!

                                                [_Exit_[118] BRAMBLE.

  _Go._ Good faith, Master Wolf, the estate of these
  gentlemen, for whom you were so late and willing a suitor,
  doth much affect me; and because I am desirous to do
  them some fair office, and find there is no means to make
  my father relent so likely as to bring him to be a
  spectator of their miseries, I have ventured on a device,
  which is, to make myself your prisoner: entreating you
  will presently go report it to my father, and (feigning an
  action at suit of some third person) pray him by this
  token, that he will presently, and with all secrecy, come
  hither for my bail; which train, if any, I know will bring
  him abroad; and then, having him here, I doubt not
  but we shall be all fortunate in the event.                     117

  _Wo._ Sir, I will put on my best speed to effect it.
  Please you come in.

  _Go._ Yes; and let me rest concealed, I pray you.

  _Wo._ See here a benefit truly done, when it is done
  timely, freely, and to no ambition.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [113] Covering.

     [114] Here and elsewhere there is no stage-direction in the old
     ed.

     [115] The basket containing the broken victuals collected for the
     poor prisoners.

     [116] Old ed. "_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL, BRAMBLE, QUICKSILVER, WOLF."

     [117] The stage-direction in old ed. is simply "_Exeunt_."

     [118] I give this stage-direction at a venture.


                              SCENE IV.

                          _Goldsmiths' Row._

  _Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, Mistress TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED, SINDEFY,
     _and_ WINIFRED.


  _To._ I will sail by you, and not hear you, like the wise
  Ulysses.

  _Mi._ Dear father!

  _Mist. T._ Husband!

  _Ge._ Father!

  _Wi. and Si._ Master Touchstone!

  _To._ Away, sirens! I will immure myself against your
  cries, and lock myself up to your lamentations.

  _Mist. T._ Gentle husband, hear me!

  _Ge._ Father, it is I, father; my Lady Flash. My sister
  and I am friends.                                                11

  _Mi._ Good father!

  _Wi._ Be not hardened, good Master Touchstone!

  _Si._ I pray you, sir, be merciful!

  _To._ I am deaf; I do not hear you; I have stopped
  mine ears with shoemakers' wax, and drunk Lethe and
  mandragora[119] to forget you. All you speak to me I
  commit to the air.

                           _Enter_ WOLF.

  _Mi._ How now, Master Wolf?

  _Wo._ Where's Master Touchstone? I must speak
  with him presently; I have lost my breath for haste.             21

  _Mi._ What is the matter, sir? Pray all be well!

  _Wo._ Master Deputy Golding is arrested upon an
  execution, and desires him presently to come to him,
  forthwith.

  _Mi._ Ay me! do you hear, father?

  _To._ Tricks, tricks, confederacy, tricks! I have 'hem in
  my nose--I scent 'hem!

  _Wo._ Who's that? Master Touchstone?

  _Mist. T._ Why, it is Master Wolf himself, husband.              30

  _Mi._ Father!

  _To._ I am deaf still, I say. I will neither yield to the
  song of the siren nor the voice of the hyena,[120] the tears
  of the crocodile nor the howling o' the Wolf. Avoid my
  habitation, monsters!

  _Wo._ Why, you are not mad, sir? I pray you look
  forth, and see the token I have brought you, sir.

  _To._ Ha! what token is it?

  _Wo._ Do you know it, sir?

  _To._ My son Golding's ring! Are you in earnest,
  Master Wolf?                                                     41

  _Wo._ Ay, by my faith, sir. He is in prison, and
  required me to use all speed and secrecy to you.

  _To._ My cloak, there (pray you be patient). I am
  plagued for my austerity. My cloak! At whose suit,
  Master Wolf?

  _Wo._ I'll tell you as we go, sir.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [119] A powerful soporific.

     [120] See Topsel's _History of Fourfooted Beasts_, ed. 1658,
     p. 341.


                              SCENE V.

                           _The Compter._

                _Enter two_ Prisoners _and_ Friend.


  _Fr._ Why, but is his offence such as he cannot hope of
  life?

  _1st Pr._ Troth, it should seem so; and 'tis great pity,
  for he is exceeding penitent.

  _Fr._ They say he is charged but on suspicion of felony
  yet.

  _2nd Pr._ Ay, but his master is a shrewd fellow; he'll
  prove great matter against him.

  _Fr._ I'd as lieve as anything I could see his _Farewell_.

  _1st Pr._ O, 'tis rarely written; why, Toby may get him
  to sing it to you; he's not curious to anybody.                  11

  _2nd Pr._ O no! He would that all the world should
  take knowledge of his repentance, and thinks he merits
  in't the more shame he suffers.

  _1st Pr._ Pray thee, try what thou canst do.

  _2nd Pr._ I warrant you he will not deny it, if he be
  not hoarse with the often repeating of it.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _1st Pr._ You never saw a more courteous creature than
  he is, and the knight too: the poorest prisoner of the
  house may command 'hem. You shall hear a thing
  admirably penned.                                                21

  _Fr._ Is the knight any scholar too?

  _1st Pr._ No, but he will speak very well, and discourse
  admirably of running horses and White-Friars, and
  against bawds; and of cocks; and talk as loud as a
  hunter, but is none.

                   _Enter_ WOLF _and_ TOUCHSTONE.

  _Wo._ Please you, stay here; I'll call his worship down
  to you.                                                          28

                                                        [_Exit_ WOLF.

         _Re-enter_[121] WOLF _with_ GOLDING, QUICKSILVER,
                   Sir PETRONEL, _and_ SECURITY.

  _1st Pr._ See, he has brought him, and the knight too;
  salute him, I pray. Sir, this gentleman, upon our report,
  is very desirous to hear some piece of your _Repentance_.

  _Qu._ Sir, with all my heart; and, as I told Master
  Toby, I shall be glad to have any man a witness of it.
  And the more openly I profess it, I hope it will appear
  the heartier, and the more unfeigned.

  _To._ Who is this?--my man Francis, and my son-in-law?

  _Qu._ Sir, it is all the testimony I shall leave behind me
  to the world, and my master that I have so offended.

  _Fr._ Good, sir!                                                 40

  _Qu._ I writ it when my spirits were oppressed.

  _Pe._ Ay, I'll be sworn for you, Francis.

  _Qu._ It is in imitation of Mannington's,[122] he that was
  hanged at Cambridge, that cut off the horse's head at
  a blow.

  _Fr._ So, sir!

  _Qu._ To the tune of "I wail in woe, I plunge in pain."

  _Pe._ An excellent ditty it is, and worthy of a new tune.

  _Qu._ In Cheapside, famous for gold and plate,
  Quicksilver I did dwell of late;                                 50
  I had a master good and kind,
  That would have wrought me to his mind.
  He bade me still, Work upon that,
  But, alas! I wrought I knew not what.
  He was a Touchstone black, but true,
  And told me still what would ensue;
  Yet woe is me! I would not learn;
  I saw, alas! but could not discern!

  _Fr._ Excellent, excellent well!

  _Go._ O let him alone: he is taken already.                      60

  _Qu._ I cast my coat and cap away,
  I went in silks and satins gay;
  False metal of good manners I
  Did daily coin unlawfully.
  I scorn'd my master, being drunk;
  I kept my gelding and my punk;
  And with a knight, Sir Flash by name,
  Who now is sorry for the same,--

  _Pe._ I thank you, Francis.

  [_Qu._] I thought by sea to run away,                            70
  But Thames and tempest did me stay.

  _To._ This cannot be feigned, sure. Heaven pardon
  my severity! The ragged colt may prove a good horse.

  _Go._ How he listens, and is transported! He has
  forgot me.

  _Qu._ Still Eastward-ho was all my word:
  But westward I had no regard,
  Nor never thought what would come after,
  As did, alas! his youngest daughter.
  At last the black ox trod o' my foot,[123]                       80
  And I saw then what long'd unto 't;
  Now cry I, "Touchstone, touch me still,
  And make me current by thy skill."

  _To._ And I will do it, Francis.

  _Wo._ Stay him, Master Deputy; now is the time: we
  shall lose the song else.

  _Fr._ I protest it is the best that ever I heard.

  _Qu._ How like you it, gentlemen?

  _All._ O admirable, sir!

  _Qu._ This stanze now following, alludes to the story of
  Mannington, from whence I took my project for my
  invention.                                                       92

  _Fr._ Pray you go on, sir.

  _Qu._ O Mannington, thy stories show,
  Thou cutt'st a horse-head off at a blow!
  But I confess, I have not the force
  For to cut off the head of a horse;
  Yet I desire this grace to win,
  That I may cut off the horse-head of Sin,
  And leave his body in the dust                                  100
  Of sin's highway and bogs of lust,
  Whereby I may take Virtue's purse,
  And live with her for better, for worse.

  _Fr._ Admirable, sir, and excellently conceited!

  _Qu._ Alas, sir!

  _To._ Son Golding and Master Wolf, I thank you: the
  deceit is welcome, especially from thee, whose charitable
  soul in this hath shown a high point of wisdom and
  honesty. Listen, I am ravished with his repentance,
  and could stand here a whole prenticeship to hear
  him.                                                            111

  _Fr._ Forth, good sir.

  _Qu._ This is the last, and the _Farewell_.--
  Farewell, Cheapside, farewell, sweet trade
  Of Goldsmiths all, that never shall fade;
  Farewell, dear fellow prentices all,
  And be you warnèd by my fall:
  Shun usurers, bawds, and dice, and drabs,
  Avoid them as you would French scabs.
  Seek not to go beyond your tether,                              120
  But cut your thongs unto your leather:
  So shall you thrive by little and little,
  'Scape Tyburn, Counters, and the Spital!

  _To._ And 'scape them shalt thou, my penitent and
  dear Francis!

  _Qu._ Master!

  _Pe._ Father!

  _To._ I can no longer forbear to do your humility right.
  Arise, and let me honour your repentance with the
  hearty and joyful embraces of a father and friend's love.
  Quicksilver, thou hast eat into my breast, Quicksilver,
  with the drops of thy sorrow, and killed the desperate
  opinion I had of thy reclaim.                                   133

  _Qu._ O, sir, I am not worthy to see your worshipful face!

  _Pe._ Forgive me, father.

  _To._ Speak no more; all former passages are forgotten;
  and here my word shall release you. Thank this worthy
  brother, and kind friend, Francis.--Master Wolf, I am
  their bail.

                                            [_A shout in the prison._

  _Sec._ Master Touchstone! Master Touchstone!

  _To._ Who's that?

  _Wo._ Security, sir.

  _Sec._ Pray you, sir, if you'll be won with a song, hear
  my lamentable tune too!                                         144


                               SONG.

                    O Master Touchstone,
                      My heart is full of woe;
                    Alas, I am a cuckold!
                      And why should it be so?
                    Because I was a usurer
                      And bawd, as all you know,                  150
                    For which, again I tell you,
                      My heart is full of woe.

  _To._ Bring him forth, Master Wolf, and release his
  bands. This day shall be sacred to mercy and the mirth
  of this encounter in the Counter. See, we are encountered
  with more suitors!

          _Enter_ Mistress TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED,
                      SINDEFY, WINIFRED, _&c._

  Save your breath, save your breath! All things have
  succeeded to your wishes: and we are heartily satisfied
  in their events.

  _Ge._ Ah, runaway, runaway! have I caught you?
  And how has my poor knight done all this while?                 161

  _Pe._ Dear lady-wife, forgive me!

  _Ge._ As heartily as I would be forgiven, knight. Dear
  father, give me your blessing, and forgive me too; I ha'
  been proud and lascivious, father; and a fool, father;
  and being raised to the state of a wanton coy thing,
  called a lady, father; have scorned you, father, and my
  sister, and my sister's velvet cap too; and would make
  a mouth at the city as I rid through it; and stop mine
  ears at Bow-bell. I have said your beard was a base
  one, father; and that you looked like Twierpipe the
  taberer; and that my mother was but my midwife.                 172

  _Mist. T._ Now, God forgi' you, child madam!

  _To._ No more repetitions. What else is wanting to
  make our harmony full?

  _Go._ Only this, sir, that my fellow Francis make amends
  to Mistress Sindefy with marriage.

  _Qu._ With all my heart.

  _Go._ And Security give her a dower, which shall be all
  the restitution he shall make of that huge mass he hath
  so unlawfully gotten.                                           181

  _To._ Excellently devised! a good motion![124] What
  says Master Security?

  _Sec._ I say anything, sir, what you'll ha' me say. Would
  I were no cuckold!

  _Wi._ Cuckold, husband? Why, I think this wearing
  of yellow[125] has infected you.                                187

  _To._ Why, Master Security, that should rather be a
  comfort to you than a corasive. If you be a cuckold,
  it's an argument you have a beautiful woman to your
  wife; then you shall be much made of; you shall have
  store of friends, never want money; you shall be eased of
  much o' your wedlock pain, others will take it for you.
  Besides, you being a usurer (and likely to go to hell),
  the devils will never torment you: they'll take you for
  one o' their own race. Again, if you be a cuckold, and
  know it not, you are an innocent; if you know it and
  endure it, a true martyr.                                       198

  _Sec._ I am resolved, sir. Come hither, Winny.

  _To._ Well, then, all are pleased, or shall be anon.
  Master Wolf, you look hungry, methinks; have you no
  apparel to lend Francis to shift him?

  _Qu._ No, sir, nor I desire none; but here make it my
  suit, that I may go home through the streets in these, as
  a spectacle, or rather an example to the children of
  Cheapside.

  _To._ Thou hast thy wish. Now, London, look about,
  And in this moral see thy glass run out:
  Behold the careful father, thrifty son,
  The solemn deeds which each of us have done;                    210
  The usurer punish'd, and from fall so steep
  The prodigal child reclaim'd, and the lost sheep.


     [121] Old ed. "_Enter_ QUICKSILVER, Sir PETRONEL, _&c._"

     [122] There was entered in the Stationers' Books, on 7th November
     1576, "A woeful Ballad made by Mr. George Mannynton, an houre
     before he suffered at Cambridge-castell." The ballad is printed
     in Ritson's _Ancient Songs and Ballads_ (ed. 1877), pp.
     188-191. It begins:--
          "I wayle in woe, I plundge in payne,
          With sorrowing sobbes I do complayne,
          With wallowing waves I wishe to dye,
          I languish sore here as I lye," &c.

     [123] "The black ox trod o' my foot"--a proverbial expression,
     meaning "trouble came upon me."

     [124] Proposition.

     [125] The colour of (1) jealousy, (2) Security's prison-dress.


                             EPILOGUS.

  [_Qu._] Stay, sir, I perceive the multitude are gather'd
  together to view our coming out at the Counter. See
  if the streets and the Fronts of the Houses be not thick
  with people, and the windows fill'd with ladies as on
  the solemn day of the pageant!
  O may you find in this our pageant here
  The same contentment which you came to seek,
  And as that show but draws you once a year                      220
  May this attract you hither once a week.

                                                     [_Exeunt omnes._




                                 THE
                        INSATIATE COUNTESS.




  _The Insatiate Countesse. A Tragedie: Acted at White-Fryers. Written
     By Iohn Marston. London: Printed by T. S. for Thomas Archer, and
     are to be sold at his Shop in Popes-head-Pallace, neere the
     Royall-Exchange._ 1613. 4to.

  _The Insatiate Countesse. A Tragedie: Acted at White-Fryers. Written
     By Iohn Marston. London, Printed by I. N. for Hugh Perrie, and
     are to be sould at his shop, at the signe of the Harrow in
     Brittaines-burse._ 1631. 4to.


                         STORY OF THE PLAY.

Isabella, Countess of Suevia, being left a widow, proceeds with
indecent haste to take a second husband, Roberto, Count of Cyprus. At
a masqued dance given by the bridegroom's friends on the day of the
wedding, Isabella falls in love with one of the masquers, whom she
discovers to be the Count of Massino [Messina?]. She sends him a
letter in which she proffers her love and summons him to her presence.
With her paramour she flies to Pavia, where she meets Massino's friend
Gniaca, Count of Gaza or Gazia [Gaeta?]. The Insatiate Countess
immediately falls in love with Gniaca, who--though at first unwilling
to wrong his friend--quickly yields to her blandishments. Returning
from a hunting expedition Massino is denied admittance by Isabella. He
gives vent to his indignation by penning bitter satirical verses, in
which he proclaims to the world her inordinate lust. Enraged at this
exposure, Isabella incites Gniaca to slay Massino. An encounter ensues
between Gniaca and Massino, but after a few passes the combatants put
up their weapons, hold a friendly colloquy, and part in peace.
Isabella is furious and resolves to destroy both Gniaca and Massino.
She employs the services of a Spanish colonel, Don Sago, who at first
sight of her has been violently inflamed with passion. The colonel
shoots Massino dead, is arrested, and, being brought before the Duke
of Medina, makes full confession. Isabella is condemned to be
beheaded. At the place of execution a strange friar requests that he
may have private speech with her. The friar is Count Roberto, who has
come to pronounce forgiveness, and bid a last farewell, to his erring
wife.

There is also an underplot to the play. Rogero and Claridiana, between
whom an hereditary feud exists, celebrate their marriage on the same
day. As they return from the church an altercation arises between the
bridegrooms, but by the intervention of friends they are at length
induced to declare that they will lay aside their hatred. These
professions are marked with little sincerity, for the new-made friends
are intent upon cornuting one another. The wives, who are excellent
friends, take counsel together and devise a scheme by which the
husbands, while taking their lawful pleasure, imagine that they are
tasting the sweets of adultery. Claridiana, announcing that he has
gone to his farm in the country, repairs by appointment to the house
of Rogero, where, under the impression that he is enjoying Rogero's
wife Thais, he lies with his own wife Abigail; and Rogero, under
Claridiana's roof lies with Thais in the belief that he is clipping
Abigail. While these night-sports are in progress, Mendoza, nephew of
the Duke Amago, holds a clandestine interview with the widowed Lady
Lentulus. As he is mounting to her chamber, the rope-ladder breaks.
Injured by the fall, he drags himself some distance from the house to
a spot where he is discovered by the watch. It is supposed that he has
met with foul play; a search is instituted; Rogero is discovered by
the watch in the house of Claridiana, and Claridiana in the house of
Rogero. Charged before the Duke Amago with the murder of Mendoza they
declare themselves guilty--preferring to be hanged as murderers rather
than to be derided as cuckolds. Mendoza, recovering from the effects
of his fall, asserts (in order to save the honour of the Lady
Lentulus) that he met his injuries in trying to steal some jewels from
her house. The Duke, who is in a maze of wonder at the strange
statements and confessions, condemns the three prisoners to be
executed, hoping by this means to extort from them the truth. On the
day fixed for the execution Thais and Abigail make an explanation to
the Duke; and their husbands--finding that they have not been
cuckolded--are glad to spare the hangman his labour. How Mendoza fares
is not stated.




                      _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_.[126]

  AMAGO, _Duke of Venice_.
  DUKE OF MEDINA.
  ROBERTO, _Count of Cyprus_.
  Count MASSINO.
  GUIDO, _Count of Arsena_.
  GNIACA, _Count of Gazia_.
  MENDOZA FOSCARI, _nephew to_ AMAGO.
  Signior MIZALDUS.
  CLARIDIANA.
  ROGERO.
  DON SAGO, _a Spanish Colonel_.
  Cardinal.

  ISABELLA, _the Insatiate Countess_.
  Lady LENTULUS, _a widow_.
  ABIGAIL, _wife to_ CLARIDIANA.
  THAIS, _wife to_ ROGERO.
  ANNA, _waiting-woman to_ ISABELLA.
  Senators, captain, lieutenant, soldiers, messenger, executioner, &c.


                      SCENE--VENICE AND PAVIA.


     [126] There is no list of characters in the old editions.




                                 THE
                        INSATIATE COUNTESS.




                               ACT I.


                              SCENE I.

               _Venice.--Room in_ ISABELLA'S _house_.

  ISABELLA, _Countess of Suevia, discovered sitting at a table
     covered with black, on which stands two black tapers lighted,
     she in mourning._

     _Enter_ ROBERTO _Count of Cyprus_, GUIDO _Count of Arsena,
                       and_ Signior MIZALDUS.


  _Miz._ What should we do in this countess's dark hole?
  She's sullenly retirèd as the turtle.
  Every day has been
  A black day with her since her husband died;
  And what should we unruly members make[127] here?

  _Gui._ As melancholy night masks up heaven's face,
  So doth the evening star present herself
  Unto the careful shepherd's gladsome eyes,
  By which unto the fold he leads his flock.                        9

  _Miz._ Zounds! what a sheepish beginning is here?
  'Tis said true love is simple; and it may well hold; and
  thou art a simple lover.

  _Rob._ See how yond star, like beauty in a cloud,
  Illumines darkness, and beguiles the moon
  Of all her glory in the firmament!

  _Miz._ Well said, man i' the moon. Was ever such
  astronomers? Marry, I fear none of these will fall into
  the right ditch.

  _Rob._ Madam.

  _Isa._ Ha, Anna! what, are my doors unbarr'd?                    20

  _Miz._ I'll assure you the way into your ladyship is
  open.

  _Rob._ And God defend that any profane hand
  Should offer sacrilege to such a saint!
  Lovely Isabella, by this duteous kiss,
  That draws part of my soul along with it,
  Had I but thought my rude intrusion
  Had waked the dove-like spleen harbour'd within you,
  Life and my first-born should not satisfy
  Such a transgression, worthy of a check;                         30
  But that immortals wink at my offence,
  Makes me presume more boldly. I am come
  To raise you from this so infernal sadness.

  _Isa._ My lord of Cyprus, do not mock my grief.
  Tears are as due a[128] tribute to the dead,
  As fear to God, and duty unto kings,
  Love to the just, or hate unto the wicked.

  _Rob._ Surcease;
  Believe it is a wrong unto the gods.[129]
  They sail against the wind that wail the dead:                   40
  And since his heart hath wrestled with death's pangs,
  From whose stern cave none tracts a backward path,[130]
  Leave to lament this necessary change,
  And thank the gods, for they can give us good.

  _Isa._ I wail his loss! Sink him ten cubits deeper,
  I may not fear his resurrection.
  I will be sworn upon the Holy Writ
  I mourn thus fervent 'cause he died no sooner:
  He buried me alive,
  And mewed me up like Cretan Dædalus,                             50
  And with wall-ey'd[131] jealousy kept me from hope
  Of any waxen wings to fly to pleasure;
  But now his soul her Argus' eyes hath closed,
  And I am free as air. You of my sex,
  In the first flow of youth, use you the sweets
  Due to your proper beauties, ere the ebb
  And long wane of unwelcome change shall come.
  Fair women, play; she's chaste whom none will have.
  Here is a man of a most mild aspect,
  Temperate, effeminate, and worthy love;                          60
  One that with burning ardor hath pursued me.
  A donative he hath of every god:
  Apollo gave him locks; Jove his high front;[132]
  The god of eloquence his flowing speech;
  The feminine deities strew'd all their bounties
  And beauty on his face; that eye was Juno's;
  Those lips were hers[133] that won the golden ball;
  That virgin-blush, Diana's. Here they meet,
  As in a sacred synod. My lords, I must intreat
  A while your wish'd forbearance.

  _Gui._[134]}
  _Miz._     } We obey you, lady.                                  70

                                      [_Exeunt_ GUIDO _and_ MIZALDUS.

  _Isa._ My lord, with you I have some conference.
  I pray, my lord, do you woo every lady
  In this phrase you do me?

  _Rob._ Fairest, till now
  Love was an infant in my oratory.

  _Isa._ And kiss thus too?

                                                       [_Kisses him._

  _Rob._ I never[135] was so kiss'd; leave thus to please;
  Flames into flames, seas thou pour'st into seas!

  _Isa._ Pray frown, my lord: let me see how many wives
  You'll have.[136] Heigh ho! you'll bury me, I see----

  _Rob._ In the swan's down, and tomb thee in mine arms!           80

  _Isa._ Then folks shall pray in vain to send me rest.
  Away, you're such another meddling lord!

  _Rob._ By heaven! my love's as chaste as thou art fair,
  And both exceed comparison. By this kiss,
  That crowns me monarch of another world
  Superior to the first, fair, thou shalt see
  As unto heaven my love, so unto thee!

  _Isa._ Alas!
  Poor creatures, when we are once o' the falling hand,
  A man may easily come over us.                                   90
  It is as hard for us to hide our love
  As to shut sin from the Creator's eyes.
  I'faith, my lord, I had a month's mind[137] unto you,
  As tedious as a full-riped[138] maiden-head;
  And, Count of Cyprus, think my love as pure
  As the first opening of the blooms in May:
  (You're virtuous, man;[139] nay, let me not blush to say so:)
  And see for your sake thus I leave to sorrow.
  Begin this subtile conjuration with me,
  And as this taper, due unto the dead,                           100
  I here extinguish, so my late-dead lord
  I put out ever from my memory,
  That his remembrance may not wrong our love,

                                               [_Puts out the taper._

  As bold-faced women, when they wed another,
  Banquet their husbands with their dead loves' heads.

  _Rob._ And as I sacrifice this to his ghost,
  With this expire all corrupt thoughts of youth,
  That fame-insatiate devil jealousy,
  And all the sparks that may bring unto flame,
  Hate betwixt man and wife, or breed defame.                     110

                                         [_Puts out the other taper._

               _Re-enter_[140] MIZALDUS _and_ GUIDO.

  _Miz._[141] Marry, amen. I say; madam, are you that
  were in for all day, now come to be in for all night?
  How now, Count Arsena?

  _Gui._[142] Faith, signior, not unlike the condemn'd malefactor,
  That hears his judgment openly pronounced;
  But I ascribe to fate. Joy swell your love;
  Cypress and willow grace my drooping crest.

  _Rob._ We do intend our hymeneal rites
  With the next rising sun. Count Arsena,[143]
  Next to our bride, the welcom'st to our feast.                  120

                                    [_Exeunt_ ISABELLA _and_ ROBERTO.

  _Gui._ _Sancta Maria!_ what think'st thou of this change?
  A player's passion I'll believe hereafter,
  And in a tragic scene weep for old Priam,[144]
  When fell-revenging Pyrrhus with supposed
  And artificial wounds mangles his breast,
  And think it a more worthy act to me,
  Than trust a female mourning o'er her love.
  Naught that is done of woman shall me please,
  Nature's step-children, rather her disease.[145]

  _Miz._ Learn of a well-composèd epigram                         130
  A woman's love, and thus 'twas sung unto us;

       _The_[146] _tapers that stood on her husband's hearse_,
         _Isabel advances to a second bed:_
       _Is it not wondrous strange for to rehearse_
         _She should so soon forget her husband, dead_
       _One hour? for if the husband's life once fade,_
         _Both love and husband in one grave are laid._

  But we forget ourselves: I am for the marriage
  Of Signior Claridiana and the fine Mistress Abigail.            139

  _Gui._ I for his arch-foe's wedding, Signior Rogero, and
  the spruce Mistress Thais: but see, the solemn rites
  are ended, and from their several temples they are
  come.

  _Miz._ A quarrel, on my life!

  _Enter at one door_ Signior CLARIDIANA, ABIGAIL _his wife, and the_
     Lady LENTULUS, _with rosemary,_[147] _as from church; at the
     other door_ Signior ROGERO, THAIS _his wife, and_ MENDOZA
     FOSCARI, _nephew to the Duke, from the bridal; they see one
     another, and draw;_ GUIDO _and others step between them._

  _Clar._ Good, my lord, detain me not; I will tilt at him.

  _Miz._[148] Remember, sir, this is your wedding-day,
  And that triumph belongs only to your wife.

  _Rog._ If you be noble, let me cut off his head.

  _Gui._[149] Remember, o' the other side, you have a
  maiden-head of your own to cut off.                             150

  _Rog._ I'll make my marriage-day like to the bloody bridal
  Alcides by the fiery Centaurs had!

  _Tha._ Husband, dear husband!

  _Rog._ Away with these catterwallers!
  Come on, sir.

  _Clar._ Thou son of a Jew!

  _Gui._ Alas, poor wench, thy husband's circumcised!

  _Clar._ Begot when thy father's face was toward th' east,
  To show that thou would'st prove a caterpiller.
  His Messias shall not save thee from me;                        160
  I'll send thee to him in collops!

  _Gui._ O fry not in choler so, sir!

  _Rog._ Mountebank, with thy pedantical action--
  Rimatrix, Bugloss,[150] Rhinoceros!

  _Men._ Gentlemen, I conjure you
  By the virtues of men!

  _Rog._ Shall any broken quacksalver's bastard oppose
  him to me in my nuptials? No; but I'll show him
  better metal than e'er the gallemawfrey[151] his father used.
  Thou scum of his melting-pots, that wert christen'd in a
  crusoile[152] with Mercury's water to[153] show thou wouldest
  prove a stinging aspis! for all thou spitt'st is aqua fortis,
  and thy breath is a compound of poison's stillatory: if
  I get within thee, hadst thou the scaly hide of a crocodile,
  as thou art partly of his nature, I would leave thee
  as bare as an anatomy[154] at the second viewing.               176

  _Clar._ Thou Jew of the tribe of Gad that, I were[155] sure,
  were there none here but thou and I, wouldst teach me
  the art of breathing; thou wouldst run like a dromedary!

  _Rog._ Thou that art the tall'st man of Christendom
  when thou art alone; if thou dost maintain this to my
  face, I'll make thee skip like an ounce.[156]

  _Men._ Nay, good sir, be you still.

  _Rog._ Let the quacksalver's son be still:
  His father was still, and still, and still again!               185

  _Clar._ By the Almighty, I'll study negromancy but I'll
  be reveng'd!

  _Gui._ Gentlemen, leave these dissensions;
  Signior Rogero, you are a man of worth.

  _Clar._ True, all the city points at him for a knave.           190

  _Gui._ You are of like reputation, Signior Claridiana.
  The hatred 'twixt your grandsires first began;
  Impute it to the folly of that age:
  These your dissensions may erect a faction
  Like to the Capulets and the Montagues.[157]

  _Men._ Put it to equal arbitration, choose your friends;
  The senators will think 'em happy in 't.

  _Rog._[158] I'll ne'er embrace the smoke of a furnace, the
  quintessence of mineral or simples, or, as I may say more
  learnedly, nor the spirit of quicksilver.                       200

  _Clar._ Nor I, such a Centaur,--half a man, half an ass,
  and all a Jew!

  _Gui._ Nay, then, we will be constables, and force a
  quiet. Gentlemen, keep 'em asunder, and help to persuade
  'em.

                          [_Exeunt_[159] _at one door_ MIZALDUS _and_
                         CLARIDIANA; _at another_ GUIDO _and_ ROGERO.

  _Men._ Well, ladies, your husbands behave 'em as
  lustily on their wedding-days as e'er I heard any. Nay,
  lady-widow, you and I must have a falling; you're of
  Signior Mizaldus' faction, and I am your vowed enemy,
  from the bodkin to the pincase. Hark in your ear.               210

  _Abi._ Well, Thais. O you're a cunning carver;[160] we
  two, that any time these fourteen years have called
  sisters, brought and bred up together, that have told one
  another all our wanton dreams, talk'd all night long of
  young men, and spent many an idle hour; fasted upon
  the stones on St. Agnes'[161] night together, practised all
  the petulant amorousness that delights young maids, yet
  have you conceal'd not only the marriage, but the man:
  and well you might deceive me, for I'll be sworn you
  never dream'd of him, and it stands against all reason
  you should enjoy him you never dream'd of.                      221

  _Tha._ Is not all this the same in you? Did you ever
  manifest your sweetheart's nose, that I might nose him
  by't? commended his calf or his nether lip? apparent
  signs that you were not in love, or wisely covered it.
  Have you ever said, such a man goes upright, or has a
  better gait than any of the rest, as indeed, since he is
  proved a magnifico, I thought thou would'st have put
  it into my hands whate'er 't had been.                          229

  _Abi._ Well, wench, we have cross fates; our husbands
  such inveterate foes, and we such entire friends; but the
  best is we are neighbours, and our back arbors may
  afford visitation freely. Prithee, let us maintain our
  familiarity still, whatsoever thy husband do unto thee, as
  I am afraid he will cross it i' the nick.

  _Tha._ Faith, you little one, if I please him in one thing,
  he shall please me in all, that's certain. Who shall I
  have to keep my counsel if I miss thee? who shall teach
  me to use the bridle when the reins are in mine own
  hand? what to long for? when to take physic? where to
  be melancholy? Why, we two are one another's grounds,[162]
  without which would be no music.                                242

  _Abi._ Well said, wench; and the prick-song we use
  shall be our husbands.

  _Tha._ I will long for swine's-flesh o' the first child.

  _Abi._ Wilt 'ou, little Jew? And I to kiss thy husband
  upon the least belly-ache. This will mad 'em.

  _Tha._ I kiss thee, wench, for that, and with it confirm
  our friendship.

  _Men._ By these sweet lips, widow!                              250

  _Lady Lent._ Good my lord, learn to swear by rote;
  Your birth and fortune makes my brain suppose
  That, like a man heated with wines and lust,
  She that is next your object is your mate,
  Till the foul water have quench'd out the fire.
  You, the duke's kinsman, tell me I am young,
  Fair, rich, and virtuous. I myself will flatter
  Myself, till you are gone that are more fair,
  More rich, more virtuous, and more debonair:
  All which are ladders to an higher reach.                       260
  Who drinks a puddle that may taste a spring?
  Who kiss a subject that may hug a king?

  _Men._ Yes, the camel always drinks in puddle-water;
  And as for huggings, read antiquities.
  Faith, madam, I'll board thee one of these days.

  _Lady Lent._ Ay, but ne'er bed me, my lord. My vow is firm,
  Since God hath called me to this noble state,
  Much to my grief, of virtuous widow-hood,
  No man shall ever come within my gates.

  _Men._ Wilt thou ram up thy porch-hold? O widow, I perceive     270
  You're ignorant of the lover's legerdemain!
  There is a fellow that by magic will assist
  To murder princes invisible; I can command his spirit.
  Or what say you to a fine scaling-ladder of ropes?
  I can tell you I am a mad wag-halter;
  But by the virtue I see seated in you,
  And by the worthy fame is blazon'd of you;
  By little Cupid, that is mighty nam'd,
  And can command my looser follies down,
  I love, and must enjoy, yet with such limits                    280
  As one that knows enforcèd marriage
  To be the Furies' sister. Think of me.

  _Abig._ }
  _Tha._  } Ha, ha, ha!

  _Men._ How now, lady? does the toy take you, as they
  say?

  _Abi._ No, my lord; nor do we take your toy, as they say.
  This is a child's birth that must not be delivered before a man,
  Though your lordship might be a midwife for your chin.

  _Men._ Some bawdy riddle, is 't not? You long till 't
  be night.                                                       290

  _Tha._ No, my lord, women's longing comes after their
  marriage night. Sister, see you be constant now.

  _Abi._ Why, dost think I'll make my husband a cuckold?
  O here they come!

  _Enter at several doors_ MIZALDUS[163] _with_ CLARIDIANA;
     GUIDO, _with_ ROGERO, _at another door_; MENDOZA
     _meets them_.

  _Men._ Signior Rogero, are you yet qualified?

  _Rog._ Yes; does any man think I'll go like a sheep to
  the slaughter? Hands off, my lord; your lordship may
  chance come under my hands. If you do, I shall show
  myself a citizen, and revenge basely.                           299

  _Clar._ I think, if I were receiving the Holy Sacrament,
  His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly.
  But there's the beauty without parallel,[164]
  In whom the Graces and the Virtues meet!
  In her aspect mild Honour sits and smiles;
  And who looks there, were it the savage bear
  But would derive new nature from her eyes?
  But to be reconciled simply for him,
  Were mankind to be lost again, I'd let it,
  And a new heap of stones should stock the world.
  In heaven and earth this power beauty hath--                    310
  It inflames temperance and temp'rates wrath.
  Whate'er thou art, mine art thou, wise or chaste;
  I shall set hard upon thy marriage-vow,
  And write revenge high in thy husband's brow
  In a strange character.--You may begin, sir.

  _Men._ Signior Claridiana, I hope Signior Rogero thus
  employed me about a good office: 'twere worthy Cicero's
  tongue, a famous oration now; but friendship, that is
  mutually embraced of the gods,
  And is Jove's usher to each sacred synod,                       320
  Without the which he could not reign in heaven,--
  That over-goes my admiration, shall not
  Under-go my censure!
  These hot flames of rage, that else will be
  As fire midst your nuptial jollity,
  Burning the edge off from[165] the present joy,
  And keep you wake to terror.

  _Clar._ I have not yet swallowed the rhimatrix nor the
  onocentaur--the rhinoceros[166] was monstrous!

  _Gui._ Sir, be you of the more flexible nature, and confess
  an error.                                                       331

  _Clar._ I must; the gods of love command,
  And that bright star her eye, that guides my fate.--
  Signior Rogero, joy, then, Signior Rogero!

  _Rog._ Signior, sir? O devil!

  _Tha._ Good husband, show yourself a temperate man!
  Your mother was a woman, I dare swear--
  No tiger got you, nor no bear was rival
  In your conception--you seem like the issue
  The painters limn leaping from Envy's mouth,                    340
  That devours all he meets.

  _Rog._ Had the last, or the least syllable
  Of this more than immortal eloquence
  Commenced to me when rage had been so high
  Within my blood that it o'er-topt my soul,
  Like to the lion when he hears the sound
  Of Dian's bowstring in some shady wood,
  I should have couch'd my lowly limb on earth
  And held my silence a proud sacrifice.

  _Clar._ Slave, I will fight with thee at any odds;              350
  Or name an instrument fit for destruction,
  That e'er[167] was made to make away a man,
  I'll meet thee on the ridges of the Alps,[168]
  Or some inhospitable wilderness,
  Stark-naked, at push of pike, or keen curtle-axe,
  At Turkish sickle, Babylonian saw,
  The ancient hooks of great Cadwallader,
  Or any other heathen invention!

  _Tha._ O God bless the man!

  _Lady Len._ Counsel him, good my lord!                          360

  _Men._ Our tongues are weary, and he desperate.
  He does refuse to hear. What shall we do?

  _Clar._ I am not mad--I can hear, I can see, I can feel!
  But a wise rage in man, wrong'd[169] past compare,
  Should be well nourish'd, as his virtues are.
  I'd have it known unto each valiant sprite,[170]
  He wrongs no man that to himself does right.
  Catzo,[171] I ha' done; Signior Rogero, I ha' done!

  _Gui._ By heaven!
  This voluntary reconciliation, made                             370
  Freely and of itself, argues unfeign'd
  And virtuous knot of love. So, sirs, embrace!

  _Rog._ Sir, by the conscience of a Catholic man,
  And by our mother Church, that binds
  And doth atone in amity with God
  The souls of men, that they with men be one,
  I tread into the centre all the thoughts
  Of ill in me toward you, and memory
  Of what from you might aught disparage me;
  Wishing unfeignedly it may sink low,                            380
  And, as untimely births, want power to grow.

  _Men._ Christianly said! Signior, what would you have more?

  _Clar._ And so I swear. You're honest, onocentaur!

  _Gui._ Nay, see now! Fie upon your turbulent spirit!
  Did he doo 't in this form?

  _Clar._ If you think not this sufficient, you shall command
  me to be reconciled in another form--as a rhimatrix
  or a rhinoceros.[172]

  _Men._ 'Sblood! what will you do?                               389

  _Clar._ Well, give me your hands first: I am friends
  with you, i'faith. Thereupon I embrace you, kiss your
  wife, and God give us joy!

                                                         [_To_ THAIS.

  _Tha._ You mean me and my husband?

  _Clar._ You take the meaning better than the speech, lady.

  _Rog._ The like wish I, but ne'er can be the like,
  And therefore wish I thee.

  _Clar._ By this bright light, that is deriv'd from thee----

  _Tha._ So, sir, you make me a very light creature!

  _Clar._ But that thou art a blessèd angel, sent
  Down from the gods t' atone mortal men,                         400
  I would have thought deeds beyond all men's thoughts,
  And executed more upon his corps.
  O let him thank the beauty of this eye,
  And not his resolute swords or destiny.

  _Gui._ What say'st thou, Mizaldus? Come, applaud this jubilee,
  A day these hundred years before not truly known
  To these divided factions.

  _Clar._ No, nor this day had it been falsely born,
  But that I mean to sound it with his horn.                      409

  _Miz._ I liked the former jar better. Then they show'd
  like men and soldiers, now like cowards and lechers.

  _Gui._ Well said, Mizaldus; thou art like the bass viol
  in a consort,--let the other instruments[173] wish and delight
  in your highest sense, thou art still grumbling.

  _Clar._ Nay, sweet, receive it    [_gives a letter to_ THAIS[174]],
       and in it my heart:
  And when thou read'st a moving syllable,
  Think that my soul was secretary to 't.
  It is your love, and not the odious wish
  Of my revenge in styling him a cuckold,
  Makes me presume thus far. Then read it, fair,                  420
  My passion's ample, as your[175] beauties are.

  _Tha._[176] Well, sir, we will not stick with you.

  _Gui._ And, gentlemen, since it hath hapt so fortunately,
  I do entreat we may all meet to-morrow
  In some heroic masque, to grace the nuptials
  Of the most noble Count of Cyprus.[177]

  _Men._ Who does the young count marry?

  _Gui._ O, sir,
  Who but the very heir of all her sex,
  That bears the palm of beauty from 'em all?
  Others, compared to her, show like faint stars                  430
  To the full moon of wonder in her face:--
  The Lady Isabella, the late widow
  To the deceased and noble Viscount Hermus.

  _Men._ Law you there, widow, there's one of the last edition,
  Whose husband yet retains in his cold trunk
  Some little airing of his noble guest;[178]
  Yet she a fresh bride as the month of May.

  _Lady Len._ Well, my lord, I am none of these
  That have my second husband bespoke;
  My door shall be a testimony of it;                             440
  And but these noble marriages incite me,
  My much abstracted presence should have show'd it.
  If you come to me, hark in your ear, my lord,
  Look your ladder of ropes be strong,
  For I shall tie you to your tackling.

  _Gui._ Gentlemen, your answer to the masque.

  _Omnes._ Your honour leads: we'll follow.

  _Rog._ Signior Claridiana.

  _Clar._ I attend you, sir.

  _Tha._[179] You'll be constant?                                 450

                                        [_Exeunt all but_ CLARIDIANA.

  _Clar._ Above the adamant; the goat's blood[180] shall not break me.
  Yet shallow fools and plainer moral men,
  That understand not what they undertake,
  Fall in their own snares or come short of vengeance.
  No; let the sun view with an open face,
  And afterward shrink in his blushing cheeks,
  Ashamed and cursing of the fix'd decree,
  That makes his light bawd to the crimes of men.
  When I have ended what I now devise,
  Apollo's oracle shall swear me wise.                            460
  Strumpet his wife! branch my false-seeming friend!
  And make him foster what my hate begot,
  A bastard, that, when age and sickness seize him,
  Shall be a corsive[181] to his griping heart.
  I'll write to her; for what her modesty
  Will not permit, nor my adulterate forcing,
  That blushless herald shall not fear to tell.
  Rogero shall know yet that his foe's a man,
  And, what is more, a true Italian!

                                                             [_Exit._


     [127] "What should we make here?" = What business have we here?
     See Middleton, i. 202.

     [128] So ed. 1613.--Ed. 1631 "as."

     [129] Cf. _Hamlet_, i. 2:--
                "Fie, 'tis a fault to heaven,
          A fault against the dead, a fault to nature," &c.

     [130] Cf. _Hamlet_, iii. 1:--
         "The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
          No traveller returns."

     [131] "Wall-ey'd"--having eyes in which the proportion of white
     is too large; fierce-eyed. "OEil de chevre. A _whall_, or
     over-white eye; an eye full of white spots, or whose apple seems
     divided by a streake of white."--_Cotgrave_.

     [132] Cf. _Hamlet_, iii. 4:--
         "See what a grace was seated on this brow
          Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself," &c.

     [133] Old eds. "his."

     [134] Old eds. "_Omnes._"

     [135] Old eds. "ne'er."

     [136] "It is a vulgar belief that a man is destined to have as
     many wives as there appear wrinkles in his forehead when he
     frowns."--Ed. of 1820.

     [137] "Month's mind" = a strong desire. See Dyce's _Shakesp.
     Gloss._

     [138] So ed. 1613.--Ed. 1631 "full-ri'dd."

     [139] Ed. 1613 gives "Your vertues man."--Ed. 1631 "Your vertues
     may."

     [140] Old eds. "_Enter_ MIZALDUS _and_ MENDOSA."

     [141] Old eds. "_Guid._"

     [142] Old eds. "_Miz._"

     [143] Old eds. "Cypres."

     [144] This play bears many traces of the study of _Hamlet_.
     The present passage was clearly suggested by the player's speech,
     "The rugged Pyrrhus," &c., and Hamlet's comments thereon.

     [145] Old eds. "desire."

     [146] Cf. _Hamlet_, i. 2:--
                      "The funeral baked meats
          Did coldly furnish forth the marriage-tables."

     [147] Branches of rosemary were formerly used at weddings. See
     note on Middleton, i. 9, 10.

     [148] Old eds. "_Rogero._"

     [149] Old eds. "_Clarid._"

     [150] Old eds. "Buglors, Rhimocers."--The herb bugloss was much
     used for medicinal purposes.  The same virtues were attributed to
     the rhinoceros' horn as to the unicorn's horn: see Topsel's
     _Hist. of Four-footed Beasts_.

     [151] Hotchpotch, farrago; a contemptuous term for an apothecary.

     [152] Crucible.

     [153] Ed. 1631 "O."

     [154] Subject for dissection.

     [155] "I were"--omitted in ed. 1613.

     [156] Ed. 1631 "skip on ounce."

     [157] If _Romeo and Juliet_ had not been a highly popular play
     the allusion to the Montagues and Capulets could hardly have
     been generally intelligible.

     [158] Old eds. "_Miz._"

     [159] Not marked in old eds.

     [160] _i.e._, you are a clever schemer.

     [161] Girls who fasted on St. Agnes' night (January 21) dreamed
     of their future husbands.--"They'll give anything to know when
     they shall be married, how many husbands they shall have by
     Cromnyomantia, a kind of divination with onions laid on the altar
     on Christmas eve, or _by fasting on St. Agnes' eve or night to
     know who shall be their first husband_." Burton's _Anatomy
     of Melancholy_, ed. 1660, p. 538. See the sixth stanza of
     Keats' _Eve of St. Agnes_.

     [162] See note, vol. i. p. 37.

     [163] Old eds. "_Count_ ARS."

     [164] In old eds. is the stage-direction "_To
     Abigall_."--Claridiana is of course glancing at Thais.

     [165] Ed. 1631 "to."

     [166] So ed. 1631.--Ed. I, "rimocheros."

     [167] Old eds. "ne'er" and "ne're."

     [168] An echo from _Richard II._ (i. 1):--
          "Which to maintain I would allow him odds
           And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
           Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
           Or any other ground inhabitable."

     [169] Old eds. "wrongs."

     [170] Ed. 1613 "sp'rit."--Ed. 1631 "spirit."

     [171] A vulgar oath.

     [172] Ed. 1613 "rimocheros."

     [173] Ed. 1613 "instrument."

     [174] Old eds. "_Abigall_" and "_Abigail_."

     [175] Old eds. "our."

     [176] Old eds. "_Abig._"

     [177] Ed. 1631 "Countesse of Sweuia."

     [178] Cf. vol. 1, p. 62.

     [179] Old eds. "_Abigall_" and "_Abig._"

     [180] In _Vulgar Errors_, ii. 5, Sir Thomas Browne discusses
     the question whether "a diamond, which is the hardest of stones,
     not yielding unto steel, emery, or anything but its own powder,
     is yet made soft or broke by the blood of a goat."

     [181] Contracted form (found in Spenser, Jonson, &c.) for
     _corrosive_.




                               ACT II.


                              SCENE I.

               _Venice.--Hall in_ ROBERTO'S _house_.

  _Enter_ ROBERTO, Lord Cardinal, ISABELLA, Lady LENTULUS,
     ABIGAIL, _and_ THAIS. _Lights._


  _Rob._ My grave Lord Cardinal, we congratulate,
  And zealously do entertain your love,
  That from your high and divine contemplation
  You have vouchsafed to consummate a day
  Due to our nuptials. O may this knot you knit--
  This individual Gordian grasp of hands,
  In sight of God so fairly intermixt--
  Never be sever'd, as Heaven smiles at it,
  By all the darts shot by infernal Jove!
  Angels of grace, Amen, Amen, say to 't!                          10
  Fair lady-widow, and my worthy mistress,
  Do you keep silence for a wager?

  _Tha._ Do you ask a woman that question, my lord,
  when she enforcedly pursues what she's forbidden? I
  think, if I had been tied to silence, I should have been
  worthy the cucking-stool ere this time.

  _Rob._ You shall not be my orator, lady, that pleads
  thus for your self.

                      _Enter a_ Servant.[182]

  _Ser._ My lord, the masquers are at hand.

  _Rob._ Give them kind entertainment.--Some worthy
  friends of mine, my lord, unknown to me, too lavish of
  their loves, bring their own welcome in a solemn
  masque.                                                          23

  _Abi._ I am glad there's noblemen in the masque, with
  our husbands to overrule them; they had shamed us
  all[183] else.

  _Tha._ Why? for why, I pray?

  _Abi._ Why?--marry, they had come in with some city
  show else; hired a few tinsel coats, at the vizard-makers,
  which would ha' made them look for all the world like
  bakers in their linen bases[184] and mealy vizards, new come
  from boulting. I saw a show once at the marriage of
  Magnificero's daughter, presented by Time, which Time
  was an old bald thing, a servant: 'twas the best man; he
  was a dyer, and came in likeness of the rainbow, in all
  manner of colours, to show his art; but the rainbow smelt
  of urine so we were all afraid the property was changed,
  and look'd for a shower. Then came in after him,
  one that, it seem'd, feared no colours[185]--a grocer that
  had trimm'd up himself handsomely: he was justice, and
  show'd reasons[186] why. And I think this grocer--I mean
  this justice--had borrowed a weather-beaten balance
  from some justice of a conduit, both which scales were
  replenish'd with the choice of his ware. And the more
  liberally to show his nature, he gave every woman in
  the room her handful.                                            46

  _Tha._ O great act of justice! Well, and my husband
  come cleanly off with this, he shall ne'er betray his weakness
  more, but confess himself a citizen hereafter, and
  acknowledge their wit, for alas! they come short.

  _Enter in the Masque, the_ Count of MASSINO,[187] MENDOZA,
     CLARIDIANA, _and_ Torch-bearers. _They deliver their shields
     to their several mistresses--that is to say,_ MENDOZA _to the_
     Lady LENTULUS; CLARIDIANA _to_ THAIS;[188] _to_ ISABELLA,
     MASSINO; _to_ ABIGAIL, ROGERO.

  _Isa._ Good my lord, be my expositor.

                                                  [_To the_ Cardinal.

  _Car._ The sun setting, a man pointing at it:
  The motto, _Senso tamen ipse calorem_.
  Fair bride, some servant of yours, that here imitates
  To have felt the heat of love bred in your brightness,
  But setting thus from him by marriage;
  He only here acknowledgeth your power,
  And must[189] expect beams of a morrow-sun.

  _Lady Len._ Lord Bridegroom, will you interpret me?

  _Rob._ A sable shield: the word,[190] _Vidua spes_.               60
  What--the forlorn hope, in black, despairing?
  Lady Lentulus, is this the badge of all your suitors?

  _Lady Len._ Ay, by my troth, my lord, if they come to me.

  _Rob._ I could give it another interpretation. Methinks
  this lover has learn'd of women to deal by contraries; if
  so, then here he says, the widow is his only hope.

  _Lady Len._ No; good my lord, let the first stand.

  _Rob._ Inquire of him, and he'll resolve the doubt.

  _Abi._ What's here?--a ship sailing nigh her haven?
  With good ware belike: 'tis well ballast.                        70

  _Tha._ O this your device smells of the merchant.
  What's your ship's name, I pray? _The Forlorn Hope_?

  _Abi._ No; _The Merchant Royal_.

  _Tha._ And why not _Adventurer_?

  _Abi._ You see no likelihood of that: would it not
  fain be in the haven? The word, _Ut tangerem portum._
  Marry, for aught I know; God grant it. What's there?

  _Tha._ Mine's an azure shield: marry, what else? I
  should tell thee more than I understand; but the word
  is, _Aut pretio, aut precibus_.                                  80

  _Abi._ Ay, ay, some common-council device.

                                     [_They take the women, and dance
                                                   the first change._

  _Men._ Fair widow, how like you this change?

  _Lady Len._ I chang'd too lately to like any.

  _Men._ O your husband! you wear his memory like a death's-head.
  For Heaven's love, think of me as of the man
  Whose dancing days you see are not yet done.

  _Lady Len._ Yet you sink a-pace,[191] sir.

  _Men._ The fault's in my upholsterer, lady.

  _Rog._ Thou shalt as soon find Truth telling a lie,              90
  Virtue a bawd, Honesty a courtier,
  As me turn'd recreant to thy least design.
  Love makes me speak, and he makes love divine.

  _Abi._[192] Would Love could make you so! but 'tis his guise
  To let us surfeit ere he ope our eyes.

  _Tha._[193] You grasp my hand too hard, i'faith, fair sir.

                                 [CLARIDIANA _holds her by the hand_.

  _Clar._ Not as you grasp my heart, unwilling wanton.
  Were but my breast bare and anatomised,
  Thou shouldst behold there how thou torturest it;
  And as Apelles limn'd the Queen of Love,                        100
  In her right hand grasping a heart in flames,
  So may I thee, fairer, but crueller.

  _Tha._[193] Well, sir, your vizor gives you colour for what
  you say.

  _Clar._ Grace me to wear this favour; 'tis a gem
  That vails to your eyes, though not to the eagle's,
  And in exchange give me one word of comfort.

  _Tha._[193] Ay, marry: I like this wooer well:
  He'll win's pleasure out o' the stones.

                             [_The second change,_ ISABELLA _falls in
                                 love with_ MASSINO;[194] _when_[195]
                                            _they change she speaks_.

  _Isa._ Change is no robbery; yet in this change                 110
  Thou robb'st me of my heart. Sure Cupid's here,
  Disguisèd like a pretty torch-bearer,
  And makes his brand a torch, that with more sleight
  He may entrap weak women. Here the sparks
  Fly, as in Ætna from his father's anvil.
  O powerful boy!
  My heart's on fire, and unto mine eyes
  The raging flames ascend like to two beacons,
  Summoning my strongest powers; but all too late;
  The conqueror already opes the gate.                            120
  I will not ask his name.

  _Abi._ You dare put it into my hands.

  _Rog._[196] Zounds,[197] do you think I will not?

  _Abi._ Then thus: to-morrow (you'll be secret, servant)--

  _Rog._ All that I do, I'll do in secret.

  _Abi._ My husband goes to Maurano[198] to renew the farm
  he has.

  _Rog._ Well, what time goes the jakes-farmer?

  _Abi._ He shall not be long out, but you shall put in,
  I warrant you. Have a care that you stand just i' the
  nick about six o'clock in the evening; my maid shall
  conduct you up. To save mine honour, you must come
  up darkling, and to avoid suspicion.                             133

  _Rog._ Zounds! hoodwink'd! and if you'll open all,
  sweet lady----

  _Abi._ But if you fail to do 't----

  _Rog._ The sun shall fail the day first.

  _Abi._ Tie this ring fast, you may be sure to know.
  You'll brag of this, now you have brought me to the bay.

  _Rog._ Pox o' this masque! would 'twere done! I might
  To my apothecary's for some stirring meats!                     141

  _Tha._ Methinks, sir, you should blush e'en through your vizor.
  I have scarce patience to dance out the rest.

  _Clar._[199] The worse my fate, that ploughs a marble quarry:
  Pygmalion, yet thy image was more kind,
  Although thy love[200] not half so true as mine.
  Dance they that list, I sail against the wind.

  _Tha._ Nay, sir, betray not your infirmities,
  You'll make my husband jealous by and by.
  We will think of you, and that presently.                       150

  _Mass._[201] The spheres ne'er danced unto a better tune.
  Sound music there!

                          [_The third change ended, ladies fall off._

  _Isa._ 'Twas music that he spake.

  _Rob._ Gallants, I thank you, and begin a health
  To your mistresses!

  _Three or four._ Fair thanks, Sir Bridegroom.

  _Isa._ [_Aside._] He speaks not to this pledge; has he no mistress?
  Would I might choose one for him! but 't may be
  He doth adore a brighter star than we.

  _Rob._ Sit, ladies, sit; you have had standing long.

                       [MASSINO[202] _dances a Levalto or a Galliard,
                              and in the midst of it falleth into the
                       Bride's lap, but straight leaps up and danceth
                                                             it out._

  _Men._ Bless the man! sprightly and nobly done!

  _Tha._ What, is your ladyship hurt?

  _Isa._ O no, an easy fall.                                      160
  [_Aside._] Was I not deep enough, thou god of lust,
  But I must further wade! I am his now,
  As sure as Juno's Jove's! Hymen, take flight,
  And see not me, 'tis not my wedding night.

                                                    [_Exit_ ISABELLA.

  _Car._ The bride's departed, discontent it[203] seems.

  _Rob._ We'll after her. Gallants, unmasque I pray,
  And taste a homely banquet, we entreat.

                           [_Exeunt_ ROBERTO, Cardinal, _and lights_.

  _Clar._ Candied[204] eringoes, I beseech thee.

  _Men._ Come, widow, I'll be bold to put you in.
  My lord, will you have a sociate?                               170

                             [_Exeunt_ THAIS, Lady LENTULUS, ABIGAIL,
                                                       _and_ MENDOZA.

  _Mass._[205] Good gentlemen, if I have any interest in you,
  Let me depart unknown; 'tis a disgrace
  Of an eternal memory.

  _Rog._[206] What, the fall, my lord?--as common a thing as
  can be. The stiffest man in Italy may fall between a
  woman's legs.

  _Clar._ Would I had changed places with you, my lord--would
  it had been my hap!

  _Mass._ What cuckold laid his horns in my way?
  Signior Claridiana, you were by the lady when I fell:
  Do you think I hurt her?                                        181

  _Clar._ You could not hurt her, my lord, between the legs.

  _Mass._ What was 't I fell withal?

  _Rog._ A cross-point, my lord.

  _Mass._ Cross-point, indeed.
  Well, if you love me, let me hence unknown;
  The silence yours, the disgrace mine own.

                              [_Exeunt_ CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO.[207]

    _Enter_ ISABELLA _with a gilt goblet, and meets_ MASSINO.[208]

  _Isa._ Sir, if wine were nectar, I'd[209] begin a health
  To her that were most gracious in your eye:                     190
  Yet deign, as simply 'tis the gift of Bacchus,
  To give her pledge that drinks. This god of wine
  Cannot inflame me more to appetite,
  Though he be co-supreme[210] with mighty Love,
  Than thy fair shape.

  _Mass._ Zounds! she comes to deride me.

  _Isa._ That kiss shall serve
  To be a pledge, although my lips should starve.--
  [_Aside._] No trick to get that vizor from his face?

  _Mass._ I will steal hence, and so conceal disgrace.

  _Isa._ Sir, have you left naught behind?                        200

  _Mass._ Yes, Lady,[211] but the fates will not permit
  (As gems once lost are seldom or never found)
  I should convey it with me. Sweet, good-night!
  [_Aside._] She bends to me: there's my fall again.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Isa._ He's gone! That lightning that a while doth strike
  Our eyes with amaz'd brightness, and on a sudden
  Leaves us in prison'd darkness! Lust, thou art high;
  My similes[212] may well come from the sky.
  Anna, Anna!

                           _Enter_ ANNA.

  _Anna._ Madam, did you call?                                    209

  _Isa._ Follow yond stranger; prithee learn his name.
  We may hereafter thank him. [_Exit_ ANNA.] How I dote!
  Is he not a god
  That can command what other men would win
  With the hard'st advantage? I must have him,
  Or, shadow-like, follow his fleeting steps.
  Were I as Daphne, and he followed chase,
  (Though I rejected young Apollo's love,
  And like a dream beguile his wand'ring steps;)
  Should he pursue me through the neighbouring grove,
  Each cowslip-stalk should trip a willing fall,                  220
  Till he were mine, who till then am his thrall.
  Nor will I blush, since worthy is my chance:[213]
  'Tis said that Venus with a satyr slept;
  And how much short came she of my fair aim!
  Then, Queen of Love, a precedent I'll be,
  To teach fair women learn to love of me.
  Speak, music: what's his name?

                           _Enter_ ANNA.

  _Anna._ Madam, it was the worthy Count Massino.

  _Isa._ Blest be thy tongue! The worthy count indeed,
  The worthiest of the worthies. Trusty Anna,                     230
  Hast thou pack'd up those monies, plate, and jewels
  I gave direction for?

  _Anna._ Yes, madam; I have truss'd up them, that many
  a proper man has been truss'd up for.

  _Isa._ I thank thee. Take the wings of night,
  Beloved secretary, and post with them to Pavia;[214]
  There furnish up some stately palace
  Worthy to entertain the king of love:
  Prepare it for my coming and my love's.
  Ere Phoebus' steeds once more unharness'd be,                   240
  Or ere he sport with his belovèd Thetis,
  The silver-footed goddess of the sea,
  We will set forward. Fly like the northern wind,
  Or swifter, Anna,--fleet like to my mind.

  _Anna._ I am just of your mind, madam. I am gone.

                                                        [_Exit_ ANNA.

  _Isa._ So to the house of death the mourner goes,
  That is bereft of what his soul desired,
  As I to bed--I to my nuptial bed,
  The heaven on earth: so to thought-slaughters went
  The pale Andromeda, bedew'd with tears.                         250
  When every minute she expected gripes
  Of a fell monster, and in vain bewail'd
  The act of her creation. Sullen Night,
  That look'st with sunk eyes on my nuptial bed,
  With ne'er a star that smiles upon the end,
  Mend thy slack pace, and lend the malcontent,
  The hoping lover, and the wishing bride,
  Beams that too long thou shadowest: or, if not,
  In spite of thy fix'd front, when my loath'd mate
  Shall struggle in due pleasure for his right,                   260
  I'll think 't my love, and die in that delight!

                                                             [_Exit._


     [182] Not marked in old eds.

     [183] Omitted in ed. 1631.

     [184] Seemingly, here, a sort of apron.--The word is used in a
     variety of senses: see Nares' _Glossary_.

     [185] Properly a military expression, meaning--fear no enemy.

     [186] Used with a quibble: (1) reason, (2) raisin.

     [187] Old eds. "Count of Arsena;" and so below "_to_ Isabella,
     Gvido Count of Arsena."--It was Guido who prepared the masque
     (see p. 149), and he ought certainly to be one of the masquers;
     but if we suppose that he is the masquer with whom Isabella falls
     in love, we are involved at once in wild confusion. Throughout
     this scene the prefixes are constantly wrong. The masquer who is
     now called Guido is frequently transformed into Rogero: see p.
     157, "The second change, ISABELLA fals in loue with Rogero" and
     what follows. Later in the scene Isabella sends her waiting-woman
     Anna to discover the unknown masquer's name; and Anna returns
     with the announcement, "Madam, it was the worthy Count Massino."
     In the third scene she sends her page to summon the stranger to
     her presence. When the page returns with him, the stage-direction
     is "_Enter_ Count ARSENA and a Page." She flies with her
     paramour, and the first man to proffer his advice to Roberto is
     this same Guido, Count of Arsena, who--according to the old
     copies--is flying with the Countess to Pavia! In iii. 11 the
     stage-direction is "_Enter_ Count GUIDO, ISABELLA," &c., and
     presently Isabella addresses her paramour as Rogero. Isabella
     pretends that she is sick and Guido goes to fetch a doctor: when
     he returns the stage direction is "_Enter_ ROGERO, ANNA, _and_
     Doctor." So the changes are rung through several scenes. In iv. 3
     Isabella speaks of--
         "False Count Guido, treacherous Gniaca,
          Counties of Gazia and of rich Massino."

     Gniaca is the Count of Gazia [Gaeta?], and it follows that Guido
     would be the name of the Count of Massino [Messina?]. But Guido
     is the Count of Arsena; and it will be intolerable to have
     another Guido. Throughout I shall give the name Massino to the
     paramour who elopes with the Countess, and shall prefix "_Mass._"
     to his speeches. Count Arsena will have to be excluded from the
     masque. It is no fault of mine; the author (or authors) and the
     old printer must bear the blame.

     [188] Old eds. "CLARIDIANA, _to_ ABIGAL; _to_ ISABELLA, GVIDO
     _Count of Arsena_; _to_ THAIS, ROGERO."

     [189] Ed. 1631 "I must."

     [190] _i.e._, motto.

     [191] Shakespeare has a more elaborate quibble:--"And then comes
     repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the _cinque-pace_
     faster and faster till he _sink_ into his _grave_."--_Much Ado_,
     ii. 1. Cinque-pace was the name of a lively dance.

     [192] Old eds. "_Thais_."

     [193] Old eds. "_Abig._"

     [194] Old eds. "_Rogero_."

     [195] Old eds. "_when the changers speak_."

     [196] To this speech and Rogero's five following speeches the
     prefix "_Men._" is given in the old copies.

     [197] Omitted in ed. 1631.

     [198] Ed. 1631 "Mucaue."

     [199] Old eds. "_Robert_" and "_Rob_."

     [200] Ed. 1631 "love's."

     [201] Old eds. "_Gui_."

     [202] Old eds. "_Rogero_."

     [203] Omitted in ed. 1631.

     [204] Old eds. "Candidi Ernigos" and "Erignos."

     [205] To Massino's speeches old eds. give the prefix
     "_Rog._"

     [206] Old eds. give the prefix "_Men._" here and at l. 184.

     [207] Old eds. "_Mend._"

     [208] Old eds. "ROGERO."

     [209] Old eds. "Ile."

     [210] So ed. 1613.--Ed. 1631 "to supreme."

     [211] Omitted in ed. 1631.

     [212] Old eds. "smiles."

     [213] Quy. "choice"?

     [214] Old eds. "Sweuia."


                              SCENE II.

                        _Venice.--A street._

           _Enter at several doors_ ABIGAIL _and_ THAIS.


  _Abi._ Thais, you're an early riser. I have that to show
  will make your hair stand an-end.[215]

  _Tha._ Well, lady, and I have that to show you will
  bring your courage down. What would you say and I
  would name a party saw your husband court, kiss, nay,
  almost go through for the hole?

  _Abi._ How, how? what would I say? nay, by this
  light! what would I not do? If ever Amazon fought
  better, or more at the face than I'll do, let me never be
  thought a new married wife. Come, unmask her; 'tis
  some admirable creature, whose beauty you need not
  paint; I warrant you, 'tis done to your hand.                    12

  _Tha._ Would any woman but I be abused to her face?
  Prithee read the contents. Know'st thou the character?

  _Abi._ 'Tis my husband's hand, and a love-letter; but
  for the contents I find none in it. Has the lustful
  monster, all back and belly, starved me thus? What defect
  does he see in me? I'll be sworn, wench, I am of
  as pliant and yielding a body to him, e'en which way he
  will--he may turn me as he list himself. What? and dedicate
  to thee! Ay, marry, here's a stile so high as a man
  cannot help a dog o'er it. He was wont to write to me
  in the city-phrase, _My good Abigail._ Here's _astonishment
  of nature, unparallel'd excellency, and most unequal rarity
  of creation_!--three such words will turn any honest woman
  in the world[216] whore; for a woman is never won till she
  know not what to answer; and beshrew me if I understand
  any of these. You are the party, I perceive, and
  here's a white sheet, that your husband has promis'd me
  to do penance in: you must not think to dance the
  shaking of the sheets[217] alone; though there be not such
  rare phrases in 't, 'tis more to the matter: a legible hand,
  but for the dash or the (he) and (as):[218] short bawdy parentheses
  as ever you saw, to the purpose; he has not left
  out a prick, I warrant you, wherein he has promis'd to
  do me any good; but the law's in mine own hand.                  36

  _Tha._ I ever thought by his red beard he would prove
  a Judas;[219] here am I bought and sold; he makes much
  of me indeed. Well, wench, we were best wisely in time
  seek for prevention; I should be loath to take drink and
  die on 't, as I am afraid I shall, that he will lie with thee.

  _Abi._ To be short, sweetheart, I'll be true to thee,
  though a liar to my husband. I have signed your husband's
  bill like a woodcock, as he is held; persuaded
  him (since naught but my love can assuage his violent
  passions) he should enjoy, like a private friend, the
  pleasures of my bed. I told him my husband was to go
  to Maurano to-day, to renew a farm he has; and in the
  meantime he might be tenant at will to use mine. This
  false fire has so took with him, that he's ravish'd afore
  he come. I have had stones on him all red. Dost
  know this?

  _Tha._ Ay, too well; it blushes, for his master.                 53

                                               [_Points to the ring._

  _Abi._ Now my husband will be hawking about thee
  anon, and thou canst meet him closely.

  _Tha._ By my faith, I would be loth in the dark, and
  he knew me.

  _Abi._ I mean thus: the same occasion will serve him
  too; they are birds of a feather, and will fly together, I
  warrant thee, wench; appoint him to come; say that thy
  husband's gone for Maurano, and tell me anon if thou
  madest not his heart-blood spring for joy in his face.           62

  _Tha._ I conceive you not all this while.

  _Abi._ Then th' art a barren woman, and no marvel if
  thy husband love thee not. The hour for both to come
  is six--a dark time fit for purblind lovers; and with
  cleanly conveyance by the nigglers our maids, they shall
  be translated into our bed-chambers. Your husband into
  mine, and mine into yours.

  _Tha._ But you mean they shall come in at the backdoors?         71

  _Abi._ Who? our husbands? nay, an' they come not in
  at the fore-doors there will be no pleasure in 't. But we
  two will climb over our garden-pales, and come in that
  way (the chastest that are in Venice will stray for a good
  turn), and thus wittily will we be stowed--you into my
  house to your husband, and I into your house to my
  husband; and I warrant thee before a month come to an
  end, they'll crack louder of this night's lodging than the
  bedsteads.                                                       80

  _Tha._ All is if our maids keep secret.

  _Abi._ Mine is a maid I'll be sworn; she has kept her
  secrets hitherto.

  _Tha._ Troth, and I never had any sea-captain boarded
  in my house.

  _Abi._ Go to, then; and the better to avoid suspicion,
  thus we must insist: they must come up darkling, recreate
  themselves with their delight an hour or two, and after a
  million kisses or so--                                           89

  _Tha._ But is my husband content to come darkling?

  _Abi._ What, not to save mine honour? He that will
  run through fire, as he has profess'd, will, by the heat of
  his love, grope in the dark! I warrant him he shall
  save mine honour.

  _Tha._ I am afraid my voice will discover me.

  _Abi._ Why, then, you're best say nothing, and take it
  thus quietly when your husband comes.

  _Tha._ Ay, but you know a woman cannot choose but
  speak in these cases.

  Abi. Bite in your nether-lip, and I warrant you;                100
  Or make as if you were whiffing tobacco;
  Or puich[220] like me. Gods so! I hear thy husband!

                                                     [_Exit_ ABIGAIL.

  _Tha._ Farewell, wise woman.

                        _Enter_ ROGERO.[221]

  _Rog._[222] Now 'gins my vengeance mount high in my lust:
  'Tis a rare creature, she'll do 't i'faith;
  And I am arm'd at all points. A rare whiblin,[223]
  To be revenged, and yet gain pleasure in 't,
  One height above revenge! Yet what a slave am I!
  Are there not younger brothers enough, but we must
  Branch one another? O but mine's revenge!                       110
  And who on that does dream
  Must be a tyrant ever in extreme.--
  O my wife Thais, get my breakfast ready;
  I must into the country to my farm I have
  Some two miles off, and, as I think,
  Shall not come home to-night. Jaques, Jaques?
  Get my vessel ready to row me down the river.
  Prithee make haste, sweet girl.

                                                 [_Exit_ ROGERO.[224]

  _Tha._ So, there's one fool shipp'd away. Are your cross-points
  discovered? Get your breakfast ready!                           120
  By this light I'll tie you to hard fare; I have been too
  sparing of that you prodigally offer voluntary to another:
  well, you will be a tame fool hereafter,
  The finest light is when we first defraud;
  Husband, to-night 'tis I must lie abroad.

                                                             [_Exit._


     [215] "And each particular hair to stand _an-end_".--_Hamlet_,
     i. 4.

     [216] Ed. 1631 "_a_ whore."

     [217] "The shaking of the sheets" was the name of an old dance.
     It is often used with a quibble (as in the text).

     [218] I follow the reading of the old copies.

     [219] In tapestry Judas was commonly represented with a red
     beard.

     [220] Puke, simper.

     [221] Old eds. "MIZALDUS."

     [222] Old eds. "_Miz._"

     [223] This word is used in a variety of senses: see Nares'
     _Gloss._ Here the meaning seems to be "device, trick." We
     have had the word "quiblin" in this sense: see p. 60.
     [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [64]]

     [224] Old eds. "MIZAL."


                             SCENE III.

                   _Venice._--ROBERTO'S _house_.

          _Enter_ ISABELLA, _and a_ Page _with a letter_.


  _Isa._ Here, take this letter, bear it to the count.
  But, boy, first tell, think'st thou I am in love?

  _Page._ Madam, I cannot tell.

  _Isa._ Canst thou not tell? Dost thou not see my face?
  Is not the face the index of the mind?
  And canst thou not distinguish love by that?

  _Page._ No, madam.

  _Isa._ Then take this letter and deliver it
  Unto the worthy count. No, fie upon him!
  Come back: tell me, why shouldst thou think                      10
  That same's a love-letter?

  _Page._ I do not think so, madam.

  _Isa._ I know thou dost; for thou dost ever use
  To hold the wrong opinion. Tell me true,
  Dost thou not think that letter is of love?

  _Page._ If you would have me think so, madam, yes.

  _Isa._ What, dost thou think thy lady is so fond?
  Give me the letter; thyself shall see it.
  Yet I should tear it in the breaking ope,
  And make him lay a wrongful charge on thee,                      20
  And say thou brokest it open by the way,
  And saw what heinous things I charge him with.
  But 'tis all one, the letter is not of love;
  Therefore deliver it unto himself,
  And tell him he's deceived--I do not love him.
  But if he think so, bid him come to me,
  And I'll confute him straight: I'll show him reasons--
  I'll show him plainly why I cannot love him.
  And if he hap to read it in thy hearing,
  Or chance to tell thee that the words were sweet,                30
  Do not thou then disclose my lewd intent
  Under those siren words, and how I mean
  To use him when I have him at my will;
  For then thou wilt destroy the plot[225] that's laid,
  And make him fear to yield when I do wish
  Only to have him yield; for when I have him,
  None but myself shall know how I will use him.
  Begone! why stayest thou?--yet return again.

  _Page._ Ay, madam.                                               39

  _Isa._ Why dost thou come again? I bade thee go.
  If I say go, never return again.

                                                        [_Exit_ Page.

  My blood, like to a troubled ocean,
  Cuff'd with the winds, incertain where to rest,
  Butts at the utmost shore[226] of every limb!
  My husband's not the man I would have had.
  O my new thoughts to this brave sprightly lord
  Was fix'd to [by?] that hid fire lovers feel!
  Where was my mind before--that refined judgment
  That represents rare objects to our passions?
  Or did my lust beguile me of my sense,                           50
  Making me feast upon such dangerous cates,
  For present want, that needs must breed a surfeit?
  How was I shipwrack'd? Yet, Isabella, think;
  Thy husband is a noble gentleman,
  Young, wise, and rich; think what fate follows thee,
  And naught but lust doth blind thy worthy love.
  I will desist. O no, it may not be.
  Even as a headstrong courser bears away
  His rider, vainly striving him to stay;
  Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea                             60
  The haven-touching bark, now near the lea,
  So wavering Cupid brings me back amain,[227]
  And purple Love resumes his darts again:
  Here of themselves, thy shafts come as if shot,
  Better than I thy quiver knows 'em not.

             _Enter_ Count MASSINO[228] _and the_ Page.

  _Page._ Madam, the count.

  _Mass._[229] So fell the Trojan wanderer on the Greek,
  And bore away his ravish'd prize to Troy.
  For such a beauty, brighter than his Danae,[230]
  Jove should (methinks) now come himself again.                  70
  Lovely Isabella, I confess me mortal--
  Not worthy to serve thee in thought, I swear;
  Yet shall not this same overflow of favour
  Diminish my vow'd duty to your beauty.

  _Isa._ Your love, my lord, I blushingly proclaim it,
  Hath power to draw me through a wilderness,
  Were 't armed with furies, as with furious beasts.
  Boy, bid our train be ready; we'll to horse.

                                                        [_Exit_ Page.

  My lord, I should say something, but I blush;
  Courting is not befitting to our sex.                            80

  _Mass._ I'll teach you how to woo. Say you have loved me long,
  And tell me that a woman's feeble tongue
  Was never tuned unto a wooing-string;
  Yet for my sake you will forget your sex,
  And court my love with strain'd immodesty:
  Then bid me make you happy with a kiss.

  _Isa._ Sir, though women do not woo, yet for your sake
  I am content to leave that civil custom,
  And pray you kiss me.

  _Mass._ Now use some unexpected ambages[231]                     90
  To draw me further into Vulcan's net.

  _Isa._ You love not me so well as I love you.

  _Mass._ Fair lady, but I do.

  _Isa._ Then show your love.

  _Mass._ Why, in this kiss I show 't, and in my vowed service
  This wooing shall suffice: 'tis easier far
  To make the current of a silver brook
  Convert his flowing backward to his spring
  Than turn a woman wooer. There's no cause
  Can turn the settled course of Nature's laws.

  _Isa._ My lord, will you pursue the plot?                       100

  _Mass._ The letter gives direction here for Pavy.
  To horse, to horse! Thus on Eurydice,[232]
  With looks regardiant [_sic_], did the Thracian gaze,
  And lost his gift while he desired the sight:
  But wiser I, led by more powerful charm,
  I'd see the world win thee from out mine arm.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [225] Ed. 1631 "plots."

     [226] Old eds. "share."

     [227] Old eds. "againe."

     [228] Old eds. "ARSENA."

     [229] The prefix to Massino's speeches in old eds. is "_Rog._"

     [230] Old eds. "Dana."

     [231] Old. eds. "vmbages." The word _ambages_ (= roundabout
     statements) is not uncommon. Cf. _Spanish Tragedy_:--
         "Tush, tush, my lord, let go these _ambages_,
          And in plain terms acquaint me with your love."
                                    --Hazlitt's _Dodsley_, v. 30.

     [232] Old eds. "once Eridace" (and "Fridace").


                              SCENE IV.

              _Venice.--Courtyard of Robert's house._

         _Enter at several doors_ CLARIDIANA _and_ GUIDO.


  _Gui._ Zounds! is the hurricano coming? Claridiana,
  what's the matter?

                                      [_A trampling of horses heard._

  _Cla._ The Countess of Suevia has new taken horse.--
  Fly, Phoebus, fly, the hour is six o'clock.!

  _Gui._ Whither is she gone, signior?

  _Cla._ Even as Jove went to meet his Semele--
  To the devil, I think.

  _Gui._ You know not wherefore?

  _Cla._ To say sooth. I do not.--
  So in immortal wise shall I arrive----

  _Gui._ At the gallows. What, in a passion, signior?              10

  _Cla._ Zounds! do not hold me, sir.--
  Beauteous Thais, I am all thine wholly.
  The staff is now advancing for the rest,
  And when I tilt, Rogero,[233] 'ware thy crest!

                                                  [_Exit_ CLARIDIANA.

  _Gui._ What's here?
  The cap'ring god-head[234] tilting in the air?

         _Enter_ ROBERTO _in his night-gown and cap, with_
                    Servants; _he kneels down_.

  _Rob._ The gods send her remorse,[235] a poor old age,
  Eternal woe, and sickness' lasting rage!

  _Gui._ My lord, you may yet o'ertake 'em.

  _Rob._ Furies supply that place, for I will not! No:             20
  She can forsake me when pleasure's in the full,
  Fresh and untired;
  What would she on the least barren coldness?
  I warrant you she has already got
  Her bravoes and her ruffians; the meanest whore
  Will have one buckler, but your great ones more.
  The shores of Sicil retain not such a monster,
  Though to galley-slaves they daily prostitute.
  To let the nuptial tapers give light to her new lust!
  Who would have thought it? She that could no more
  Forsake my company than can the day                              31
  Forsake the glorious presence of the sun!--
  When I was absent then her gallèd eyes
  Would have shed April showers, and outwept
  The clouds in that same o'er-passionate mood,
  When they drowned all the world, yet now forsakes me!
  Women, your eyes shed glances like the sun:
  Now shines your brightness, now your light is done.
  On the sweetest flowers[236] you shine--'tis but by chance,
  And on the basest weed you'll waste a glance.                    40
  Your beams, once lost, can never more be found,
  Unless we wait until your course run round,
  And take you at fifth hand. Since I cannot
  Enjoy the noble title of a man,
  But after-ages, as our virtues are
  Buried whilst we are living, will sound out
  My infamy and her degenerate shame,
  Yet in my life I'll smother 't, if I may,
  And like a dead man to the world bequeath
  These houses of vanity, mills, and lands.                        50
  Take what you will, I will not keep, among you, servants:
  And welcome some religious monastery.
  A true sworn beads-man I'll hereafter be,
  And wake the morning cock with holy prayers.

  _Ser._ Good my lord--noble master----

  _Rob._ Dissuade me not, my will shall be my king;
  I thank thee, wife; a fair change thou has given;
  I leave thy lust to woo the love of Heaven!                      58

                                                  [_Exit cum servis._

  _Gui._ This is conversion, is 't not--as good as might
  have been? He turns[237] religious upon his wife's turning
  courtesan. This is just like some of our gallant prodigals,
  when they have consum'd their patrimonies wrongfully,
  they turn Capuchins for devotion.

                                                             [_Exit._


     [233] Old eds. "Mizaldus aware."

     [234] Ed. 1613 "Cods-head."

     [235] So the editor of 1820.--Old eds. "no horse."

     [236] Ed. 1631 "showres."

     [237] Ed. 1631 "returnes."




                              ACT III.


                              SCENE I.

             _Venice.--Outside_ Lady LENTULUS' _house_.

  CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO, _being in a readiness, are received
     in at one another's houses by their Maids_.

  _Then enter_ MENDOZA, _with a_ Page, _to the_ Lady LENTULUS'
     _window_.


  _Men._ Night, like a solemn mourner, frowns on earth,
  Envying that day should force her doff her robes,
  Or Phoebus chase away her melancholy.
  Heaven's eyes look faintly through her sable masque,
  And silver Cynthia hides[238] her in her sphere,
  Scorning to grace black Night's solemnity.
  Be unpropitious, Night, to villain thoughts,
  But let thy diamonds shine on virtuous love.
  This is the lower house of high-built heaven,                     9
  Where my chaste Phoebe sits inthroned 'mong thoughts
  So purely good, brings her to heaven on earth.
  Such power hath souls in contemplation!
  Sing, boy (though night yet), like the morning's lark--

                                                      [_Music plays._

  A soul that's clear is light, though heaven be dark.

                _The_ Lady LENTULUS _at her window_.

  _Lady Len._ Who speaks in music to us?

  _Men._ Sweet, 'tis I. Boy, leave me and to bed.

                                                        [_Exit_ Page.

  _Lady Len._ I thank you for your music; now, good-night.

  _Men._ Leave not the world yet, Queen of Chastity;
  Keep promise with thy love Endymion,
  And let me meet thee there on Latmus' top.                       20
  'Tis I, whose virtuous hopes are firmly fix'd
  On the fruition of thy chaste vow'd love.

  _Lady Len._ My lord,
  Your honour made me promise you ascent
  Into my house, since my vow barr'd my doors,
  By some wit's engine made for theft and lust;
  Yet for your honour, and my humble fame,
  Check your blood's passions, and return, dear lord.
  Suspicion is a dog that still doth bite
  Without a cause: this act gives food to envy;                    30
  Swoll'n big, it bursts, and poisons our clear flames.

  _Men._ Envy is stingless when she looks on thee.

  _Lady Len._ Envy is blind, my lord, and cannot see.

  _Men._ If you break promise, fair, you break my heart.

  _Lady Len._ Then come,--yet[239] stay! ascend,--yet let us part.
  I fear,--yet know not what I fear.
  Your love [i]s precious, yet mine honour's dear.

  _Men._ If I do stain thy honour with foul lust,
  May thunder strike me to show Jove is just!

  _Lady Len._ Then come, my lord; on earth your vow is given.      40
  This aid I'll lend you.

                              [_He throws up a ladder of cords, which
                               she makes fast to some part of the
                               window; he ascends, and at top falls._

  _Men._ Thus I mount my heaven:
  Receive me, sweet!

  _Lady Len._ O me, unhappy wretch!
  How fares your honour? Speak, fate-cross'd lord!
  If life retain his seat within you, speak!
  Else like that Sestian dame, that saw her love
  Cast by the frowning billows on the sands,
  And lean death, swoll'n big with the Hellespont,
  In bleak Leander's body--like his love,
  Come I to thee. One grave shall serve us both!

  _Men._ Stay, miracle of women! yet I breathe.                    50
  Though death be entered in this tower of flesh,
  He is not conqueror; my heart stands out,
  And yields to thee, scorning his tyranny!

  _Lady Len._ My doors are vow'd shut, and I cannot help you.
  Your wounds are mortal; wounded is mine honour
  If there the town-guard find you. Unhappy dame!
  Relief is perjur'd,--my vow kept, shame!
  What hellish destiny did twist my fate!

  _Men._ Rest seize thine eyelids; be not passionate;
  Sweet, sleep secure; I'll remove myself,                         60
  That viper Envy shall not spot thy fame:
  I'll take that poison with me, my soul's rest,
  For like a serpent I'll creep on my breast.

  _Lady Len._ Thou more than man! Love-wounded, joy and grief
  Fight in my blood. Thy wounds and constancy
  Are both so strong, none can have victory!

  _Men._ Darken the world, earth's queen; get thee to bed;
  The earth is light while those two stars are spread:
  Their splendour will betray me to men's eyes.
  Veil thy bright face; for if thou longer stay,                   70
  Phoebus will rise to thee and make night day.

  _Lady Len._ To part and leave you hurt my soul doth fear.

  _Men._ To part from hence I cannot, you being there.

  _Lady Len._ We'll move together, then fate love controls;
  And as we part, so bodies part from souls.

  _Men._ Mine is the earth, thine the refinèd fire;
  I am mortal, thou divine; then soul mount higher.

  _Lady Len._ Why then, take comfort, sweet; I'll see you[240] to-morrow.

  _Men._ My wounds are nothing; thy loss breeds my sorrow.

                                               [_Exit_ Lady LENTULUS.

  See now 'tis dark!                                               80
  Support your master, legs, a little further;
  Faint not, bold heart, with anguish of my wound;
  Try further yet. Can blood weigh down my soul?
  Desire is vain without ability.

                              [_He staggers on, and then falls down._

  Thus falls a monarch, if fate push at him.

                 _Enter a_ Captain _and the_ Watch.

  _Cap._ Come on, my hearts; we are the city's security.
  I'll give you your charge, and then, like courtiers, every
  man spy out. Let no man in my company be afraid to
  speak to a cloak lined with velvet, nor tremble at the
  sound of a gingling spur.                                        90

  _Watch._ May I never be counted a cock of the game
  if I fear spurs, but be gelded like a capon for the preserving
  of my voice.

  _Cap._ I'll have none of my band refrain to search a
  venereal house, though his wife's sister be a lodger there;
  nor take two shillings of the bawd to save the gentlemen's
  credits that are aloft, and so, like voluntary panders,
  leave them, to the shame of all halberdiers.

  _2._ Nay, the wenches, we'll tickle them, that's flat.           99

  _Cap._ If you meet a shevoiliero, that's in the gross
  phrase a knight that swaggers in the street, and, being
  taken, has no money in his purse to pay for his fees,
  it shall be a part of your duty to entreat me to let him go.

  _1._ O marvellous! is there such shevoiliers?

  _2._ Some two hundred, that's the least, that are reveal'd.

                                                   [MENDOZA _groans_.


  _Cap._ What groan is that? Bring a light. Who lies there?
  It is the Lord Mendoza, kinsman to our duke.
  Speak, good my lord: relate your dire mischance;
  Life, like a fearful servant, flies his master;                 110
  Art must atone them, or th' whole man is lost.
  Convey him to a surgeon's, then return;

                            [_Part of the_ Watch _bear away_ MENDOZA.

  No place shall be unsearch'd until we find
  The truth of this mischance. Make haste again.
  Whose house is this stands open? In and search
  What guests that house contains, and bring them forth.

                              [_Exit the_ Watch _to search the houses
                                         of_ ROGERO _and_ CLARIDIANA.

  This noble man's misfortune stirs my quiet,
  And fills my soul with fearful fantasies;
  But I'll unwind this labyrinth of doubt,
  Else industry shall lose part of itself's labour.               120

  [_Re-enter_[241] _the_ Watch _with_ CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO _taken
     in one another's houses in their shirts and night-gowns. They
     see one another._

  Who have we there? Signiors, cannot you tell us
  How our prince's kinsman came wounded to the death
  Nigh to your houses?

  _Rog._ Heyday! cross-ruff[242] at midnight! Is't Christmas,
  You go a-gaming to your neighbour's house?

  _Cla._ Dost make a mummer of me, ox-head?

  _Cap._ Make answer, gentlemen, it doth concern you.

  _Rog._ Ox-head will bear an action; I'll ha' the law;
  I'll not be yoked. Bear witness, gentlemen, he calls me
  ox-head.                                                        130

  _Cap._ Do you hear, sir?

  _Cla._ Very well, very well; take law and hang thyself;
  I care not. Had she no other but that good face to
  dote upon? I'd rather she had dealt with a dangerous
  Frenchman than with such a pagan.

  _Cap._ Are you mad? Answer my demand.

  _Rog._ I am as good a Christian as thyself,
  Though my wife have now new christen'd me.

  _Cap._ Are you deaf, you make no answer?                        139

  _Cla._ Would I had had the circumcising of thee, Jew;
  I'd ha' cut short your cuckold-maker; I would i'faith, I
  would i'faith!

  _Cap._ Away with them to prison! they'll answer better
  there.

  _Rog._ Not too fast, gentlemen; what's our crime?

  _Cap._ Murder of the duke's kinsman, Signior Mendoza.

  _Ambo._ Nothing else? We did it, we did it, we did it!

  _Cap._ Take heed, gentlemen, what you confess.

  _Cla._ I'll confess anything, since I am made a fool
  by a knave. I'll be hang'd like an innocent, that's
  flat.                                                           151

  _Rog._ I'll not see my shame. Hemp instead of a
  quacksalver. You shall put out mine eyes, and my head
  shall be bought to make ink-horns of.

  _Cap._ You do confess the murder?

  _Cla._ Sir, 'tis true,
  Done by a faithless Christian and a Jew.

  _Cap._ To prison with them; we will hear no further;
  The tongue betrays the heart of guilty murther.

                                                     [_Exeunt omnes._


     [238] Old eds. "hyes."

     [239] Ed. 1631 "yea."

     [240] Ed. 1631 "see 'ou."--Ed. 1631 "see, on."

     [241] This stage direction is omitted in ed. 1631.

     [242] Ruff was the name of an old game at cards.


                              SCENE II.

                              _Pavia._

     _Enter_ Count MASSINO,[243] ISABELLA, ANNA, _and_ Servants.


  _Mass._ Welcome to Pavy, sweet; and may this kiss
  Chase melancholy from thy company;
  Speak, my soul's joy, how fare you after travel?

  _Isa._ Like one that scapeth danger on the seas,
  Yet trembles with cold fears, being safe on land,
  With bare imagination of what's past.

  _Mass._ Fear keep with cowards, air[244]-stars cannot move.

  _Isa._ Fear in this kind, my lord, doth sweeten love.

  _Mass._ To think fear joy, dear, I cannot conjecture.

  _Isa._ Fear's sire to fervency,                                  10
  Which makes love's sweet prove nectar;
  Trembling desire, fear, hope, and doubtful leisure,
  Distil from love the quintessence of pleasure.

  _Mass._ Madam, I yield to you; fear keeps with love,
  My oratory is too weak against you:
  You have the ground of knowledge, wise experience,
  Which makes your argument invincible.

  _Isa._ You are Time's scholar, and can flatter weakness.

  _Mass._ Custom allows it, and we plainly see
  Princes and women maintain flattery.                             20

  _Isa._ Anna, go see my jewels and my trunks
  Be aptly placèd in their several rooms.

                                                        [_Exit_ ANNA.

          _Enter_ GNIACA _Count of Gaza, with_ Attendants.

  My lord,
  Know you this gallant? Tis a complete gentleman.

  _Mass._ I do; 'tis Count Gniaca, my endeared friend.

  _Gni._ Welcome to Pavy; welcome, fairest lady.
  Your sight, dear friend, is life's restorative;
  This day's the period of long-wish'd content,
  More welcome to me than day to the world,
  Night to the wearied, or gold to a miser:                        30
  Such joy feels friendship in society.

  _Isa._ [_Aside._] A rare-shaped man: compare them both together.

  _Mass._ Our loves are friendly twins, both at a birth;
  The joy you taste, that joy do I conceive.
  This day's the jubilee of my desire.

  _Isa._ [_Aside._] He's fairer than he was when first I saw him.
  This little time makes him more excellent.

  _Gui._ Relate some news.  Hark you; what lady's that?
  Be open-breasted, so will I to thee.

                                                     [_They whisper._

  _Isa._ [_Aside._] Error did blind him that paints love blind;    40
  For my love plainly judges difference:
  Love is clear-sighted, and with eagle's eyes,
  Undazzled, looks upon bright sun-beam'd beauty.
  Nature did rob herself when she made him,
  Blushing to see her work excel herself;
  'Tis[245] shape makes mankind femelacy.
  Forgive me, Count Massino,[246] 'tis my fate
  To love thy friend, and quit thy love with hate.
  I must enjoy him; let hope thy passions smother;
  Faith cannot cool blood; I'll clip him were 't my brother.
  Such is the heat of my sincere affection,                        51
  Hell nor earth can keep love in subjection!

  _Gni._ I crave your honour's pardon; my ignorance
  Of what you were may gain a courteous pardon.

  _Isa._ There needs no pardon where there's no offence.
  [_Aside._] His tongue strikes music ravishing my sense:
  I must be sudden, else desire confounds me.

  _Mass._ What sport affords this climate for delight?

  _Gni._ We'll hawk and hunt to-day; as for to-morrow,
  Variety shall feed variety.                                      60

  _Isa._ Dissimulation women's armour is,
  Aid love, belief, and female constancy.--
  O I am sick, my lord! Kind Massino,[247] help me!

  _Mass._ Forfend it, Heaven! Madam, sit; how fare you?
  My life's best comfort, speak--O speak, sweet saint!

  _Isa._ Fetch art to keep life; run, my love, I faint;
  My vital breath runs coldly through my veins;
  I see lean death, with eyes imaginary,
  Stand fearfully before me; here my end,
  A wife unconstant, yet thy loving friend!                        70

  _Mass._ As swift as thought fly I to wish thee aid.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Isa._ Thus innocence by craft is soon betray'd.--
  My Lord Gniaca, 'tis your art must heal me;
  I am love-sick for your love; love, love, for loving!
  I blush for speaking truth; fair sir, believe me,
  Beneath the moon nought but your frown can grieve me.

  _Gni._ Lady, by Heaven, methinks this fit is strange.

  _Isa._ Count not my love light for this sudden change:
  By Cupid's bow I swear, and will avow,
  I never knew true perfect love till now.                         80

  _Gni._ Wrong not yourself, me, and your dearest friend;
  Your love is violent, and soon will end.
  Love is not love unless love doth persever;
  That love is perfect love that loves for ever.

  _Isa._ Such love is mine; believe it, well-shaped youth,
  Though women use to lie, yet I speak truth.
  Give sentence for my life, or speedy death.
  Can you affect me?

  _Gni._ I should belie my thoughts to give denial;
  But then to friendship I must turn disloyal.                     90
  I will not wrong my friend; let that suffice.

  _Isa._ I'll be a miracle; for love a woman dies.

                                           [_Offers to stab herself._

  _Gni._ Hold, madam; these are soul-killing passions.
  I'd rather wrong my friend than you yourself.

  _Isa._ Love me, or else, by Jove, death's but delay'd.
  My vow is fix'd in heaven; fear shall not move me;
  My life is death with tortures 'less you love me.

  _Gni._ Give me some respite, and I will resolve you.

  _Isa._ My heart denies it;
  My blood is violent; now or else never.                         100
  Love me! and like love's queen I'll fall before thee,
  Enticing dalliance from thee with my smiles,
  And steal thy heart with my delicious kisses.
  I'll study art in love, that in a rapture[248]
  Thy soul shall taste pleasure's excelling nature.
  Love me!
  Both art and nature in large recompense
  Shall be profuse in ravishing thy sense.

  _Gni._ You have prevail'd; I am yours from all the world;
  Thy wit and beauty have entranced my soul;                      110
  I long for dalliance, my blood burns like fire.
  Hell's pain on earth is to delay desire!

  _Isa._ I kiss thee for that breath. This day you hunt;
  In midst of all your sports leave you Massino;[249]
  Return to me, whose life rests in thy sight,
  Where pleasure shall make nectar our delight.

  _Gni._ I condescend to what thy will implores me;
  He that but now neglected thee adores thee.
  But see, here comes my friend; fear makes him tremble.

             _Enter_ MASSINO,[250] ANNA, _and_ Doctor.

  _Isa._ Women are witless that cannot dissemble:                 120
  Now I am sick again.--Where's my Lord Massino?[250]
  His love and my health's vanish'd both together.

  _Mass._ Wrong not thy friend, dear friend, in thy extremes;
  Here's a profound Hippocrates, my dear,
  To administer to thee the spirit of health.

  _Isa._ Your sight to me, my lord, excels all physic;
  I am better far, my love, than when you left me;
  Your friend was comfortable to me at the last.
  'Twas but a fit, my lord, and now 'tis past.
  Are all things ready, sir?                                      130

  _Anna._ Yes, madam, the house is fit.

  _Gni._ Desire in women is the life of wit.

                                                     [_Exeunt omnes._


     [243] Old eds. "GUIDO." The prefix to Massino's speeches
     throughout the scene is "_Gui._"

     [244] Quy. "our stars"?--The sense would be "Our fortunes cannot
     change."

     [245] Here, as frequently throughout this play, the text is
     hopelessly corrupt.--Quy. "_His_ shape makes mankind _females'
     jealousy_"? On p. 137 we have the word _female_ as a
     substantive--"Than trust a _female_ mourning o'er her love."

     [246] Old eds. "Forgiue me, Rogero."

     [247] Old eds. "Rogero."

     [248] Old eds. "rupture."

     [249] Old eds. "Rogero."

     [250] Old eds. "Rogero."


                             SCENE III.

                        _Venice.--A Street._

          _Enter_ ABIGAIL _and_ THAIS _at several doors_.


  _Abi._ O partner, I am with child of laughter, and none
  but you can be my midwife. Was there ever such a
  game at noddy?[251]

  _Tha._ Our husbands think they are foremen of the
  jury; they hold the heretic point of predestination, and
  sure they are born to be hanged!

  _Abi._ They are like to prove men of judgment; but
  not for killing of him that's yet alive and well recovered.

  _Tha._ As soon as my man saw the watch come up,
  All his spirit was down.                                         10

  _Abi._ But though they have made us good sport in speech,
  They did hinder us of good sport in action.
  O wench! imagination is strong in pleasure!

  _Tha._ That's true; for the opinion my good man had
  of enjoying you made him do wonders.

  _Abi._ Why should a weak man, that is so soon satisfied,
  desire variety?

  _Tha._ Their answer is, to feed on pheasants continually
  would breed a loathing.

  _Abi._ Then if we seek for strange flesh that have
  stomachs at will, 'tis pardonable.                               21

  _Tha._ Ay, if men had any feeling of it; but they judge
  us by themselves.

  _Abi._ Well, we will bring them to the gallows, and then,
  like kind virgins,[252] beg their lives; and after live at our
  pleasures, and this bridle shall still rein them.

  _Tha._ Faith, if we were disposed, we might sin[253] as
  safe as if we had the broad seal to warrant it; but that
  night's work will stick by me this forty weeks. Come,
  shall we go visit the discontented Lady Lentulus, whom
  the Lord Mendoza has confess'd to his chirurgion he
  would have robb'd? I thought great men would but
  have robb'd the poor, yet he the rich.                           33

  _Abi._ He thought that the richer purchase, though with
  the worse conscience; but we'll to comfort her, and then
  go hear our husband's lamentations. They say mine has
  compiled an ungodly volume of satires against women,
  and calls his book _The Snarl_.

  _Tha._ But he's in hope his book will save him.

  _Abi._ God defend that it should, or any that snarl in
  that fashion!                                                    41

  _Tha._ Well, wench, if I could be metamorphosed into
  thy shape, I should have my husband pliant to me in
  his life, and soon rid of him; for being weary with his
  continual motion, he'd die of a consumption.

  _Abi._ Make much of him, for all our wanton prize;
  Follow the proverb, "Merry be and wise."

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [251] There was a game at cards called noddy.

     [252] It was popularly supposed that a virgin might save a man
     from the gallows by offering to marry him. In _Arden of
     Feversham_, when the serving-man Michael promises to murder
     his master, Alice Arden says--"But Michael see you do it
     cunningly:" to which he replies:--
         "Why, say I should be took, I'll ne'er confess
          That you know anything; and _Susan, being a maid_,
          May beg me from the gallows of the shrief."

     Alice bids him "trust not to that;" but he is convinced that all
     will be right:--
         "You cannot tell me; I have seen it, I."

     Many similar passages might be adduced to prove that this
     extraordinary belief prevailed. I suspect that we must go back to
     the ancients for an explanation. Plutarch in his life of Numa
     tells us that a vestal virgin, accidentally meeting a criminal on
     his way to execution, was entitled by law to give him life and
     liberty.--The curious Manx custom in regard to rape may be
     noticed in this connection. The injured woman was presented with
     a ring, a rope, and a knife. If the offender was a bachelor, the
     woman might marry him with the ring; if he was a married man, it
     was left to her discretion whether she should hang him with the
     rope or castrate him with the knife (an awkward dilemma--for the
     married man).

     [253] Old eds. "seeme."--The correction was made by the editor of
     1820.


                              SCENE IV.

                    _Isabella's house at Pavia._

              _Enter_ ISABELLA, ANNA, _and_ Servants.


  _Isa._ Time, that devour'st all mortality,
  Run swiftly these few hours,
  And bring Gniaca on thy aged shoulders,
  That I may clip the rarest model of creation.
  Do this, gentle Time,
  And I will curl thine agèd silver lock,
  And dally with thee in delicious pleasure:
  Medea-like I will renew thy youth,
  But if thy frozen steps delay my love,
  I'll poison thee, with murder curse thy paths,                   10
  And make thee know a time of infamy.--
  Anna, give watch, and bring me certain notice
  When Count Gniaca doth approach my house.

  _Anna._ Madam, I go.--
  I am kept for pleasure, though I never taste it;
  For 'tis the usher's office still to cover
  His lady's private meetings with her lover.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Isa._ Desire, thou quenchless flame that burn'st our souls,
  Cease to torment me;
  The dew of pleasure shall put out thy fire,                      20
  And quite consume thee with satiety.
  Lust shall be cool'd with lust, wherein I'll prove
  The life of love is only saved by love.

                           _Enter_ ANNA.

  _Anna._ Madam, he's coming.

  _Isa._ Thou blessed Mercury,
  Prepare a banquet fit to please the gods;
  Let sphere-like[254] music breathe delicious tones
  Into our mortal ears; perfume the house
  With odoriferous scents, sweeter than myrrh,
  Or all the spices in Panchaia.
  His sight and touching we will recreate,                         30
  That his five senses shall be fivefold happy.
  His breath like roses casts out sweet perfume;
  Time now with pleasure shall itself consume.

               _Enter_ GNIACA _in his hunting weeds_.

  How like Adonis in his hunting weeds,
  Looks this same goddess-tempter!
  And art thou come? This kiss entrance thy[255] soul!
  Gods, I do not envy you; for, know this,
  Way's[256] here on earth complete, excels your bliss:
  I'll not change this night's pleasure with you all.

  _Gni._ Thou creature made by love, composed of pleasure,         40
  That makest true use of thy creation,
  In thee both wit and beauty's resident;
  Delightful pleasure, unpeer'd excellence.
  This is the fate fix'd fast unto thy birth,
  That thou alone shouldst be man's heaven on earth.
  If I alone may but enjoy thy love,
  I'll not change earthly joy to be heaven's Jove:
  For though that women-haters now are common,
  They all shall know earth's joy consists in woman.

  _Isa._ My love was dotage till I lovèd thee,                     50
  For thy soul truly tastes our petulance;
  Condition's[257] lover, Cupid's Intelligencer,
  That makes man[258] understand what pleasure is:
  These are fit tributes unto thy knowledge;
  For women's beauty o'er men bear that rule,
  Our power commands the rich, the wise, the fool.
  Though scorn grows big in man, in growth and stature,
  Yet women are the rarest works of[259] nature.

  _Gni._ I do confess the truth, and must admire
  That women can command rare man's desire.                        60

  _Isa._ Cease admiration, sit to Cupid's feast,
  The preparation to Paphian dalliance;
  Harmonious music, breathe thy silver airs
  To stir up appetite to Venus' banquet,
  That breath of pleasure that entrances souls,
  Making that instant happiness a heaven,
  In the true taste of love's deliciousness.

  _Gni._ Thy words are able to stir cold desire
  Into his flesh that lies entomb'd in ice,
  Having lost the feeling use of warmth in blood;                  70
  Then how much more in me, whose youthful veins,
  Like a proud river, overflow their bounds?
  Pleasure's ambrosia, or love's nourisher,
  I long for privacy; come, let us in;
  'Tis custom, and not reason, makes love sin.

  _Isa._ I'll lead the way to Venus' paradise,
  Where thou shalt taste that fruit that made man wise.

                                                    [_Exit_ ISABELLA.

  _Gni._ Sing notes of pleasure to elate our blood:
  Why should heaven frown on joys that do us good?
  I come, Isabella, keeper of love's treasure,                     80
  To force thy blood to lust, and ravish pleasure.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _After some short song, enter_ ISABELLA _and_ GNIACA _again,
     she hanging about his neck lasciviously_.

  _Gni._ Still I am thy captive, yet thy thoughts are free;
  To be love's bondman is true liberty.
  I have swum in seas of pleasure without ground,
  Ventrous desire past depth itself hath drown'd.
  Such skill has beauty's art in a true lover,
  That dead desire to life it can recover.
  Thus beauty our desire can soon advance,
  Then straight again kill it with dalliance.
  Divinest women, your enchanting breaths                          90
  Give lovers many lives and many deaths!

  _Isa._ May thy desire to me for ever last,
  Not die but surfeit on my delicates;
  And as I tie this jewel about thy neck,
  So may I tie thy constant love to mine,
  Never to seek weaking variety,
  That greedy curse of man and woman's hell,
  Where nought but shame and loath'd diseases dwell.

  _Gni._ You counsel well, dear; learn it then;
  For change is given more to you than men.                       100

  _Isa._ My faith to thee, like rocks, shall never move,
  The sun shall change his course ere I my love.

                           _Enter_ ANNA.

  _Ann._ Madam, the Count Massino[260] knocks.

  _Isa._ Dear love, into my chamber, till I send
  My hate from sight.

  _Gni._ Lust makes me wrong my friend.

                                                      [_Exit_ GNIACA.

  _Isa._ Anna, stand here and entertain Lord Massino;[260]
  I from my window straight will give him answer.
  The serpent's wit to woman rest in me;
  By that man fell, then why not he by me?                        109
  Feign'd sighs, and tears dropp'd from a woman's eye,
  Blinds man of reason, strikes his knowledge dumb.
  Wit arms a woman; Count Massino,[260] come.

                                                    [_Exit_ ISABELLA.

  _Ann._ My office still is under: yet in time
  Ushers prove masters, degrees makes us climb.

                                              [MASSINO[261] _knocks_.

  Who knocks? Is't you, my noble lord?

            _Enter_ MASSINO[261] _in his hunting weeds_.

  _Mass._ Came my friend hither--Count Gniaca?

  _Ann._ No, my good lord.

  _Mass._ Where's my Isabella?

  _Ann._ In her chamber.

  _Mass._ Good: I'll visit her.                                   120

  _Ann._ The chamber's lock'd, my lord: she will be private.

  _Mass._ Lock'd against me--my saucy malapert?

  _Ann._ Be patient, good my lord; she'll give you answer.

  _Mass._ Isabella! life of love, speak, 'tis I that calls.

                                        [ISABELLA at her window.[262]

  _Isa._ I must desire your lordship pardon me.

  _Mass._ Lordship? what's this? Isabella, art thou blind?

  _Isa._ My lord,
  My lust was blind, but now my soul's clear-sighted,
  And sees the spots that did corrupt my flesh:
  Those tokens sent from hell, brought by desire,                 130
  The messenger of everlasting death!

  _Ann._ My lady's in her pulpit, now she'll preach.

  _Mass._ Is not thy lady mad? In verity I always
  Took her for a puritan, and now she shows it.

  _Isa._ Mock not repentance. Profanation
  Brings mortals laughing to damnation.
  Believe it, lord, Isabella's ill-pass'd life,
  Like gold refined, shall make a perfect wife.
  I stand on firm ground now, before on ice;
  We know not virtue till we taste of vice.                       140

  _Mass._ Do you hear dissimulation, woman sinner?

  _Isa._ Leave my house, good my lord, and for my part,
  I look for a most wish'd reconciliation
  Betwixt myself and my most wrongèd husband.
  Tempt not contrition then, religious lord.

  _Mass._ Indeed I was one of your family once;
  But do not I know these are but brain-tricks:
  And where the devil has the fee-simple,
  He'll keep possession; and will you halt
  Before me that yourself has made a cripple?                     150

  _Isa._ Nay, then, you wrong me; and, disdainèd lord,
  I paid then for thy pleasures vendible--
  Whose mercenary flesh I bought with coin.
  I will divulge thy baseness, 'less with speed
  Thou leave my house and my society.

  _Mass._ Already turn'd apostate! but now all pure,
  Now damn'd your faith is, and [your] loves endure
  Like dew upon the grass; when pleasure's sun
  Shines on your virtues, all your virtue's done.
  I'll leave thy house and thee; go, get thee in,                 160
  Thou gaudy child of pride, and nurse of sin.

  _Isa._ Rail not on me, my lord; for if you do,
  My hot desire of vengeance shall strike wonder;
  Revenge in women falls like dreadful thunder!

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Ann._ Your lordship will command me no further service?

  _Mass._ I thank thee for thy watchful service past;
  Thy usher-like attendance on the stairs,
  Being true signs of thy humility.

  _Ann._ I hope I did discharge my place with care.               169

  _Mass._ Ushers should have much wit, but little hair;[263]
  Thou hast of both sufficient: prithee leave me,
  If thou hast an honest lady, commend me to her,
  But she is none.

                                                        [_Exit_ ANNA.

  Farewell, thou private strumpet, worse than common!
  Man were on earth an angel but for woman.
  That sevenfold branch of hell from them doth grow;
  Pride, lust, and murder, they raise from below,
  With all their fellow-sins. Women are made
  Of blood, without souls; when their beauties fade,
  And their lust's past, avarice or bawdry                        180
  Makes them still loved; then they buy venery,
  Bribing damnation, and hire brothel-slaves:
  Shame's their executors, infamy their graves.
  Your painting will wipe off, which art did hide,
  And show your ugly shape in spite of pride.
  Farewell, Isabella, poor in soul and fame,
  I leave thee rich in nothing but in shame.
  Then, soulless women, know, whose faiths are hollow,
  Your lust being quench'd a bloody act must follow.

                                                             [_Exit._


     [254] Ed. 1631 "speare-like."

     [255] Ed. 1631 "enters into thy."

     [256] Quy. "Joy's?"

     [257] The text is corrupt. Some copies of ed. 1613 have
     "conditious."

     [258] Ed. 1631 "men."

     [259] Ed. 1631 and some copies of ed. 1613 "in."

     [260] Old eds. "Rogero."

     [261] Old eds. "Guido."--The prefix to his speeches throughout
     the scene is "_Gui._"

     [262] Evidently the window of an inner chamber.

     [263] An allusion to the proverb "More hair than wit."




                               ACT IV.


                              SCENE I.

                    _Venice.--The Senate-house._

  _Enter the_ Duke AMAGO, _the_ Captain, _and the rest of the_ Watch,
     _with the_ Senators.


  _Duke._ Justice, that makes princes like the gods,
  Draws us unto the senate,
  That with unpartial balance we may poise
  The crimes and innocence of all offenders.
  Our presence can chase bribery from laws;
  He best can judge that hears himself the cause.

  _1st Sen._ True, mighty duke, it best becomes our places,
  To have our light from you the sun of virtue.
  Subject authority, for gain, love, or fear,
  Oft quits the guilty, and condemns the clear.                    10

  _Duke._ The land and people's mine; the crimes being known,
  I must redress; my subjects' wrong's mine own.
  Call for the two suspected for the murder
  Of Mendoza, our endeared kinsman,
  These voluntary murderers that confess
  The murder of him that is yet alive.
  We'll sport with serious justice for a while;
  In show we'll frown on them that make us smile.

  _2d Sen._ Bring forth the prisoners, we may hear their answers.

  _Enter_ (_brought in with_ Officers) CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO.[264]

  _Duke._ Stand forth, you vipers, [you] that have suck'd blood,   20
  And lopp'd a branch sprung from a royal tree!
  What can you answer to escape tortures?

  _Rog._ We have confessed the fact,[265] my lord, to God and man,
  Our ghostly father, and that worthy captain:
  We beg not life, but favourable death.

  _Duke._ On what ground sprung your hate to him we loved?

  _Cla._ Upon that curse laid on Venetians, jealousy.
  We thought he, being a courtier, would have made us
  magnificoes of the right stamp, and have play'd at
  primero in the presence, with gold of the city brought
  from our Indies.                                                 31

  _Rog._ Nay, more, my lord, we feared that your kinsman,
  for a mess of sonnets, would have given the plot of us
  and our wives to some needy poet, and for sport and
  profit brought us in some Venetian comedy upon the
  stage.

  _Duke._ Our justice dwells with mercy; be not desperate.

  _1st Sen._ His highness fain would save your lives if
  you would see it.

  _Rog._ All the law in Venice shall not save me; I will
  not be saved.

  _Cla._ Fear not, I have a trick to bring us to hanging
  in spite of the law.                                             43

  _Rog._ Why, now I see thou lovest me; thou hast confirm'd
  Thy friendship for ever to me by these words.
  Why, I should never hear lanthorn and candle[266] call'd for
  But I should think it was for me and my wife.
  I'll hang for that, forget not thy trick;
  Upon 'em with thy trick; I long for sentence.

  _2d Sen._ Will you appeal for mercy to the duke?                 50

  _Cla._ Kill not thy justice, duke, to save our lives;
  We have deserved death.

  _Rog._ Make not us precedents for after-wrongs;
  I will receive punishment for my sins:
  It shall be a means to lift me towards heaven.

  _Cla._ Let's have our desert; we crave no favour.

  _Duke._ Take them asunder; grave justice makes us mirth;
  That man is soulless that ne'er smiles[267] on earth.
  Signor Rogero,[268] relate the weapon you kill'd him with,
  and the manner.                                                  60

  _Rog._ My lord, your lustful kinsman--I can title him
  no better--came sneaking to my house like a promoter to
  spy flesh[269] in the Lent. Now I, having a Venetian spirit,
  watch'd my time, and with my rapier run him through,
  knowing all pains are but trifles to the horn of a citizen.

  _Duke._ Take him aside. Signior Claridiana, what
  weapon had you for this bloody act? What dart used
  death?

  _Cla._ My lord, I brain'd him with a [c]leaver my
  neighbour lent me, and he stood by and cried, "Strike
  home, old boy."                                                  71

  _Duke._ With several instruments. Bring them face to face.
  With what kill'd you our nephew?

  _Rog._ With a rapier, liege.

  _Cla._ 'Tis a lie;
  I kill'd him with a [c]leaver, and thou stood'st by.

  _Rog._ Dost think to save me and hang thyself? No,
  I scorn it; is this the trick thou said'st thou had'st? I
  kill'd him, duke.
  He only gave consent: 'twas I that did it.                       80

  _Cla._ Thou hast always been cross to me, and wilt be
  to my death. Have I taken all this pains to bring thee
  to hanging, and dost thou slip now?

  _Rog._ We shall never agree in a tale till we come to
  the gallows, then we shall jump.

  _Cla._ I'll show you a cross-point, if you cross me thus,
  when thou shalt not see it.

  _Rog._ I'll make a wry mouth at that, or it shall cost
  me a fall. 'Tis thy pride to be hang'd alone, because
  thou scorn'st my company; but it shall be known I am
  as good a man as thyself, and in these actions will keep
  company with thy betters, Jew.                                   92

  _Cla._ Monster!

  _Rog._ Dog-killer!

  _Cla._ Fencer!

                                                      [_They bustle._

  _Duke._ Part them, part 'em!

  _Rog._ Hang us, and quarter us; we shall ne'er be
  parted till then.

  _Duke._ You do confess the murder done by both?

  _Cla._ [_Aside_] But that I would not have the slave laugh at me,
  And count me a coward, I have a good mind to live.
  But I am resolute: 'tis but a turn.--
  I do confess.

  _Rog._ So do I.                                                 103
  Pronounce our doom, we are prepared to die.

  _1st Sen._ We sentence you to hang till you be dead;
  Since you were men eminent in place and worth,
  We give a Christian burial to you both.

  _Cla._ Not in one grave together, we beseech you, we
  shall ne'er agree.

  _Rog._ He scorns my company till the day of judgment;
  I'll not hang with him.                                         111

  _Duke._ You hang together, that shall make you friends;
  An everlasting hatred death soon ends.
  To prison with them till the death;
  Kings' words, like fate, must never change their breath.

  _Rog._ You malice-monger, I'll be hang'd afore thee,
  And 't be but to vex thee.

  _Cla._ I'll do you as good a turn, or the hangman and
  [I] shall fall out.

                                             [_Exeunt ambo, guarded._

  _Duke._ Now to our kinsman, shame to royal blood;
  Bring him before us.                                            121

        _Enter_ MENDOZA _in his nightgown and cap, guarded,
                         with the_ Captain.

  Theft in a prince is sacrilege to honour;
  'Tis virtue's scandal, death of royalty.
  I blush to see my shame. Nephew, sit down.
  Justice, that smiles on those, on him must frown!
  Speak freely, captain; where found you him wounded?

  _Capt._ Between the widow's house and these cross neighbours;
  Besides, an artificial ladder made of ropes
  Was fasten'd to her window, which he confess'd
  He brought to rob her of jewels and coin.                       130
  My knowledge yields no further circumstance.

  _Duke._ Thou know'st too much; would I were past all knowledge,
  I might forget my grief springs from my shame!
  Thou monster of my blood, answer in brief
  To these assertions made against thy life.
  Is thy soul guilty of so base a fact?

  _Men._ I do confess I did intend to rob her;
  In the attempt I fell and hurt myself.
  Law's thunder is but death; I dread it not,
  So my Lentulus' honour be preserved                             140
  From black suspicion of a lustful night.

  _Duke._ Thy head's thy forfeit for thy heart's offence;
  Thy blood's prerogative may claim that favour.
  Thy person then to death doom'd by just laws;
  Thy death is infamous, but worse the cause.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [264] Old eds. "Mizaldus."

     [265] Ed. 1631 "act."

     [266] "Lanthorn and candle-light"--the cry of the bellman.  See
     Middleton, i. 70.

     [267] So the editor of 1820.--Old eds. "sinnes."

     [268] Old eds. "Mizaldus."

     [269] Rigid rules were enacted from time to time forbidding the
     consumption of flesh in Lent: see Overall's _Remembrancia_.
     It may be seen from Middleton's _Chaste Maid_ that promoters
     (_i.e._, informers) were busily engaged in preventing any
     infringement of the regulations.


                              SCENE II.

                   _Pavia._--ISABELLA'S _house_.

           _Enter ISABELLA alone, GNIACA following her._


  _Isa._ O Heavens, that I was born to be hate's slave,
  The food of rumour that devours my fame!
  I am call'd Insatiate Countess, lust's paramour,
  A glorious devil, and the noble whore!
  I am sick, vex'd, and tormented. O revenge!

  _Gni._ On whom would my Isabella be revenged?

  _Isa._ Upon a viper, that does eat[270] mine honour;
  I will not name him till I be revenged.
  See, here's the libels are divulg'd against me--
  An everlasting scandal to my name--                              10
  And thus the villain writes in my disgrace:--

                                                        [_She reads._

  _Who loves Isabella the Insatiate,_
    _Needs Atlas' back for to content her lust,_
  _That wand'ring strumpet, and chaste wedlock's hate,_
    _That renders truth deceit for loyal trust;_
  _That sacrilegious thief to Hymen's rites,_
  _Making her lust her god, heaven her delights!_
  Swell not, proud heart, I'll quench thy grief in blood;
  Desire in woman cannot be withstood.

  _Gni._ I'll be thy champion, sweet, 'gainst all the world;       20
  Name but the villain that defames thee thus.

  _Isa._ Dare thy hand execute whom my tongue condemns,
  Then art thou truly valiant, mine for ever;
  But if thou faint'st, hate must our true lover sever.

  _Gni._ By my dead father's soul, my mother's virtues,
  And by my knighthood and gentility,
  I'll be revenged
  On all the authors of your obloquy!
  Name him.

  _Isa._ Massino.[271]                                             30

  _Gni._ Ha!

  _Isa._ What! does his name affright thee, coward lord!
  Be mad, Isabella! curse on thy revenge!
  This lord was knighted for his father's worth,
  Not for his own.
  Farewell, thou perjured man! I'll leave you all;
  You all conspire to work mine honour's fall.

  _Gni._ Stay, my Isabella; were he my father's son,
  Composed of me, he dies!
  Delight still keep with thee. Go in.

  _Isa._ Thou art just;                                            40
  Revenge to me is sweeter now than lust.

                                                    [_Exit_ ISABELLA.

      _Enter_ MASSINO;[272] _they see one another and draw and
                   make a pass; then enter_ ANNA.

  _Ann._ What mean you, nobles? Will you kill each other?

  _Ambo._ Hold!

  _Mass._ Thou shame to friendship, what intends thy hate?

  _Gni._ Love arms my hand, makes my soul valiant!
  Isabella's wrongs now sit upon my sword,
  To fall more heavy to thy coward's head
  Than thunderbolts upon Jove's rifted oaks.
  Deny thy scandal, or defend thy life.

  _Mass._ What?--hath thy faith and reason left thee both,         50
  That thou art only flesh without a soul?
  Hast thou no feeling of thyself and me?
  Blind rage, that will not let thee see thyself!

  _Gni._ I come not to dispute but execute:
  And thus comes death!

                                                     [_Another pass._

  _Mass._ And thus I break thy dart.
  Here's at thy whore's face!

  _Gni._ 'Tis miss'd. Here's at thy heart!
  Stay, let us breathe.

  _Mass._ Let reason govern rage yet, let us leave;
  Although most wrong be mine, I can forgive.
  In this attempt thy shame will ever live.                        60

  _Gni._ Thou hast wrong'd the Phoenix of all women rarest--
  She that's most wise, most loving, chaste, and fairest.

  _Mass._ Thou dotest upon a devil, not a woman,
  That has bewitch'd thee with her sorcery,
  And drown'd thy soul in lethy faculties.
  Her quenchless[273] lust has [quite] benumbed thy knowledge;
  Thy intellectual powers oblivion smothers,
  That thou art nothing but forgetfulness.

  _Gni._ What's this to my Isabella? My sin's mine own.
  Her faults were none, until thou madest 'em known.               70

  _Mass._ Leave her, and leave thy shame where first thou found'st it;
  Else live a bondslave to diseasèd lust,
  Devour'd in her gulf-like appetite,
  And infamy shall write thy epitaph;
  Thy memory leave nothing but thy crimes--
  A scandal to thy name in future times.

  _Gni._ Put up your weapon; I dare hear you further.
  Insatiate lust is sire still to murther.

  _Mass._ Believe it, friend, if her heart-blood were vext,
  Though you kill me, new pleasure makes you next.                 80
  She loved me dearer than she loves you now;
  She'll ne'er be faithful, has twice broke her vow.
  This curse pursues female adultery,
  They'll swim through blood for sin's variety;
  Their pleasure like a sea, groundless and wide,
  A woman's lust was never satisfied.

  _Gni._ Fear whispers in my breast, I have a soul
  That blushes red for tend'ring[274] bloody facts.
  Forgive me, friend, if I can be forgiven;
  Thy counsel is the path leads me to heaven.                      90

  _Mass._ I do embrace thy reconcilèd love----

  _Gni._ That death or danger now shall ne'er remove.
  Go tell thy Insatiate Countess, Anna,
  We have escap'd the snares of her false love,
  Vowing for ever to abandon her.

  _Mass._ You have heard our resolution; pray, be gone.

  _Ann._ My office ever rested at your pleasure;
  I was the Indian, yet you had the treasure.
  My faction often sweats, and oft takes cold;
  Then gild true diligence o'er with gold.                        100

  _Mass._ Thy speech deserves it. There's gold;

                                                   [_Gives her gold._

  Be honest now, and not love's noddy,
  Turn'd up and play'd on whilst thou keep'st the stock.
  Prithee formally let's ha' thy absence.

  _Ann._ Lords, farewell.

                                                        [_Exit_ ANNA.

  _Mass._ 'Tis whores and panders that makes earth like hell.

  _Gni._ Now I am got out of lust's labyrinth,
  I will to Venice for a certain time,
  To recreate my much abusèd spirits,
  And then revisit Pavy and my friend.                            110

  _Mass._ I'll bring you on your way, but must return;
  Love is like Ætna, and will ever burn.
  Yet now desire is quench'd, flamed once in height:
  Till man knows hell he never has firm faith.

                                                      [_Exeunt ambo._


     [270] Old eds. "get."

     [271] Old eds. "Rogero."

     [272] Old eds. "GUIDO."--The prefix to his speeches is "_Gui._"

     [273] So the editor of 1820.--Old eds. "vselesse."

     [274] Ed. 1613 "tending."


                             SCENE III.

           _The balcony of_ ISABELLA'S _house at Pavia_.

             _Enter_ ISABELLA _raving,[275] and_ ANNA.


  _Isa._ Out, screech-owl, messenger of my revenge's death!
  Thou dost belie Gniaca; 'tis not so.

  _Ann._ Upon mine honesty, they are united.

  _Isa._ Thy honesty?--thou vassal to my pleasure,
  Take that!

                                                      [_Strikes her._

  Darest thou control me when I say no?
  Art not my footstool--did not I create thee,
  And made thee gentle, being born a beggar?
  Thou hast been my woman's pander for a crown,
  And dost thou stand upon thy honesty?                            10

  _Ann._ I am what you please, madam; yet 'tis so.

  _Isa._ Slave, I will slit thy tongue, 'less thou say no!

  _Ann._ No, no, no, madam.

  _Isa._ I have my humour, though thy[276] _no_ be false.
  Faint-hearted coward, get thee from my sight!
  When,[277] villain? Haste, and come not near me.

  _Ann._ Madam, I run;--her sight like death doth fear me.

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Isa._ Perfidious cowards, stain of nobility!
  Venetians, and be reconciled with words!
  O that I had Gniaca once more here,                              20
  Within this prison made of flesh and bone,
  I'd not trust thunder with my fell revenge,
  But mine own hands should do the dire exploit,
  And fame should chronicle a woman's acts!
  My rage respects the persons, not the facts:
  Their place and worths hath power to defame me;
  Mean hate is stingless, and does only name me:
  I not regard it. 'Tis high blood that swells,
  Give me revenge, and damn me into hells!

    _Enter_ DON SAGO, _a Coronel,_[278] _with a band of_ Soldiers
                        _and a_ Lieutenant.

  A gallant Spaniard, I will hear him speak;                       30
  Grief must be speechless, ere the heart can break!

  _Sago._ Lieutenant, let good discipline be used
  In quart'ring of our troops within the city--
  Not separated into many streets.
  That shows weak love, but not sound policy:
  Division in small numbers makes all weak;
  Forces united are the nerves of war.
  Mother and nurse of observation--
  Whose rare ingenious sprite fills all the world,
  By looking on itself with piercing eyes--                        40
  Will look through strangers' imbecilities.
  Therefore be careful.

  _Lie._ All shall be order'd fitting your command,
  For these three gifts which makes a soldier rare,
  Is love and duty with a valiant care.

                                 [_Exeunt_ Lieutenant _and_ Soldiers.

  _Sago._ What rarity[279] of women feeds my sight,
  And leads my senses in a maze of wonder?

                                                    [_Sees_ ISABELLA.

  Bellona,
  Thou wert my mistress till I saw that shape;
  But now my sword I'll consecrate to her,                         50
  Leave Mars and become Cupid's martialist.
  Beauty can turn the rugged face of War,
  And make him smile upon delightful Peace,
  Courting her smoothly like a femalist.
  I grow a slave unto my potent[280] love,
  Whose power change[281] hearts, make our fate remove.

  _Isa._ Revenge, not pleasure, now o'er-rules my blood;
  Rage shall drown faint love in a crimson flood;
  And were he caught, I'd make him murder's hand!

  _Sago._ Methinks 'twere joy to die at her command.               60
  I'll speak to hear her speech, whose powerful breath
  Is able to infuse life into death.

  _Isa._ He comes to speak: he's mine; by love he is mine!

  _Sago._ Lady, think bold intrusion courtesy;
  'Tis but imagination alters them;
  Then 'tis your thoughts, not I, that do offend.

  _Isa._ Sir, your intrusion yet 's but courtesy,
  Unless your future humour alter it.

  _Sago._ Why then, divinest woman, know my soul
  Is dedicated to thy shrine of beauty,                            70
  To pray for mercy, and repent the wrongs
  Done against love and female purity.
  Thou abstract, drawn from nature's empty storehouse,
  I am thy slave; command my sword, my heart;
  The soul is tried best by the body's smart.

  _Isa._ You are a stranger to this land and me.
  What madness is't for me to trust you then?
  To cozen women is a trade 'mongst men;
  Smooth promises, faint passions, with a lie,
  Deceives our sex[282] of fame and chastity.                      80
  What danger durst you hazard for my love?

  _Sago._ Perils that ever mortal durst approve.
  I'll double all the works of Hercules,
  Expose myself in combat against an host,
  Meet danger in a place of certain death,
  Yet never shrink, or give way to my fate;
  Bare-breasted meet the murderous Tartar's dart,
  Or any fatal engine made for death:
  Such power has love and beauty from your eye,[283]
  He that dies resolute does never die!                            90
  'Tis fear gives death his strength, which I resisted,
  Death is but empty air the fates have twisted.

  _Isa._ Dare you revenge my quarrel 'gainst a foe?

  _Sago._ Then ask me if I dare embrace you thus,
  Or kiss your hand, or gaze on your bright eye,
  Where Cupid dances on those globes of love!
  Fear is my vassal; when I frown he flies;
  A hundred times in life a coward dies![284]

  _Isa._ I not suspect your valour, but your will.                 99

  _Sago._ To gain your love my father's blood I'll spill.

  _Isa._ Many have sworn the like, yet broke their vow.

  _Sago._ My whole endeavour to your wish shall bow;
  I am your plague to scourge your enemies.

  _Isa._ Perform your promise, and enjoy your pleasure;
  Spend my love's dowry, that is women's treasure;
  But if thy resolution dread the trial,
  I'll tell the world a Spaniard was disloyal.

  _Sago._ Relate your grief; I long to hear their names
  Whose bastard spirits thy true worth defames.
  I'll wash thy scandal off when their hearts bleeds;             110
  Valour makes difference betwixt words and deeds.
  Tell thy fame's poison, blood shall wash thee white.

  _Isa._ My spotless honour is a slave to spite.
  These are the monsters Venice doth bring forth,
  Whose empty souls are bankrupt of true worth:
  False Count Guido,[285] treacherous Gniaca,
  Counties[286] of Gazia, and of rich Massino.
  Then, if thou beest a knight, help the oppress'd;
  Through danger safety comes, through trouble rest.
  And so my love----                                              120

  _Sago._ Ignoble villains! their best blood shall prove,
  Revenge falls heavy that is raised by love!

  _Isa._ Think what reproach is to a woman's name,
  Honour'd by birth, by marriage, and by beauty;
  Be god on earth, and revenge innocence.
  O, worthy Spaniard, on my knees I beg,
  Forget the persons, think on their offence!

  _Sago._ By the white soul of honour, by heav'n's Jove,
  They die if their death can attain your love!                   129

  _Isa._ Thus will I clip thy waist--embrace thee thus;
  Thus dally with thy hair, and kiss thee thus:
  Our pleasures, Protean-like, in sundry shapes
  Shall with variety stir dalliance.

  _Sago._ I am immortal. O, divinest creature,
  Thou dost excel the gods in wit and feature!
  False counts, you die, revenge now shakes his rods;
  Beauty condemns you--stronger than the gods.

  _Isa._ Come, Mars of lovers, Vulcan is not here;
  Make vengeance, like my bed, quite void of fear.

  _Sago._ My senses are entranced, and in this slumber
  I taste heav'n's joys, but cannot count the number.             141

                                                      [_Exeunt ambo._


     [275] Ed. 1631 "running."

     [276] Old eds. "they now be false."

     [277] Exclamation of impatience.

     [278] Old form of _colonel_.

     [279] Old eds. "rarietie." (The form _rariety_--which would
     here be unmetrical--is sometimes found. Cf. Heywood's _Golden
     Age_, act iii.:--
         "Then to our palace
          Pass on in state: let all _rarieties_
          Shower down from heaven a largess.")

     [280] For "my potent" the editor of 1820 reads "omnipotent."

     [281] Not unfrequently we find a plural verb following a singular
     subject.

     [282] Ed. 1631 "sect" (a common form of "sex").

     [283] Old ed. "eyes."

     [284] Cf. _Jul. Cæs._ ii. 2:--
         "Cowards die many times before their deaths:
          The valiant never taste of death but once."

     [285] See note 2, p. 154. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [187]]

     [286] _i.e._ Counts.--Old eds. "Countesse."


                              SCENE IV.

                        _Venice.--A street._

            _Enter_ Lady LENTULUS, ABIGAIL, _and_ THAIS.


  _Abi._ Well, madam, you see the destiny that follows marriage:
  Our husbands are quiet now, and must suffer the law.

  _Tha._ If my husband had been worth the begging,
  some courtier would have had him; he might be begg'd[287]
  well enough, for he knows not his own wife from another.

  _Lady Lent._ O, you're a couple of trusty wenches, to
  deceive your husbands thus!

  _Abi._ If we had not deceived them thus, we had been
  truss'd wenches.

  _Tha._ Our husbands will be hang'd, because they think
  themselves cuckolds.                                             11

  _Abi._ If all true cuckolds were of that mind, the
  hangman would be the richest occupation, and more
  wealthy widows than there be younger brothers to marry
  them.

  _Tha._ The merchant venturers would be a very small
  company.

  _Abi._ 'Tis twelve to one of that; however the rest
  'scape, I shall fear a massacre.

  _Tha._ If my husband hereafter, for his wealth, chance
  to be dubb'd, I'll have him call'd the knight of the
  supposed horn.                                                   22

  _Abi._ Faith, and it sounds well.

  _Lady Lent._ Come, madcaps, leave jesting, and let's
  deliver them out of their earthly purgation; you are the
  spirits that torment them; but my love and lord, kind
  Mendoza, will lose his life to preserve mine honour, not
  for hate to others.

  _Abi._ By my troth, if I had been his judge, I should
  have hang'd him, for having no more wit; I speak as I
  think, for I would not be hang'd for ne'er a man under
  the heav'ns.                                                     32

  _Tha._ Faith, I think I should for my husband: I do
  not hold the opinion of the philosopher, that writes, we
  love them best that we enjoy first; for I protest I love
  my husband better than any that did know me before.

  _Abi._ So do I; yet life and pleasure are two sweet
  things to a woman.

  _Lady Lent._ He that's willing to die to save mine
  honour, I'll die to save his.                                    40

  _Abi._ Tut, believe it who that list, we love a lively
  man, I grant you; but to maintain that life I'll ne'er
  consent to die.
  This is a rule I still will keep in breast,
  Love well thy husband, wench, but thyself best!

  _Tha._ I have followed your counsel hitherto, and mean
  to do still.

  _Lady Lent._ Come, we neglect our business; 'tis no jesting;
  To-morrow they are executed 'less we reprieve them.
  We be their destinies to cast their fate.                        50
  Let's all go.

  _Abi._ I fear not to come late.

                                                           [_Exeunt._


     [287] _i.e._, he might be _begged for a fool_.--See Nares'
     _Glossary_.


                              SCENE V.

                        _Pavia.--A street._

         _Enter_ Don SAGO _solus, with a case of pistols_.


  _Sago._ Day was my night, and night must be my day;
  The sun shined on my pleasure with my love,
  And darkness must lend aid to my revenge.
  The stage of heaven is hung with solemn black,
  A time best fitting to act tragedies.
  The night's great queen, that maiden governess,
  Musters black clouds to hide her from the world,
  Afraid to look on my bold enterprise.
  Cursed creatures, messengers of death, possess the world;
  Night-ravens, screetch-owls, and voice-killing[288] mandrakes,
  The ghosts[289] of misers, that imprison'd gold                  11
  Within the harmless[290] bowels of the earth,
  Are night's companions. Bawds to lust and murder,
  Be all propitious to my act of justice
  Upon the scandalisers of her fame,
  That is the lifeblood of deliciousness,
  Deem'd[291] Isabella, Cupid's treasurer,
  Whose soul contains the richest gifts of love:
  Her beauty from my heart fear doth expel:
  They relish pleasure best that dread not hell!                   20
  Who's there?

                    _Enter_ Count MASSINO.[292]

  _Mass._ A friend to thee, if thy intents
  Be just and honourable.

  _Sago._ Count Massino,[292] speak, I am the watch.

  _Mass._ My name is Massino:[292] dost thou know me?

  _Sago._ Yes, slanderous villain, nurse of obloquy,
  Whose poison'd breath has speckled clear-faced[293] virtue,
  And made a leper of Isabella's fame,
  That is as spotless as the eye of heaven!
  Thy vital thread's a-cutting; start not, slave;
  He's sure of sudden death, Heaven cannot save!                   30

  _Mass._ Art not Gniaca turn'd apostata?[294]
  Has pleasure once again turned thee again
  A devil? art not Gniaca--hah?

  _Sago._ O that I were, then would I stab myself,
  For he is mark'd for death as well as thee!
  I am Don Sago, thy mortal enemy,
  Whose hand love makes thy executioner!

  _Mass._ I know thee, valiant Spaniard, and to thee
  Murder's more hateful than is sacrilege.
  Thy actions ever have been honourable.                           40

  _Sago._ And this the crown of all my actions,
  To purge the earth of such a man turn'd monster!

  Mass. I never wrong'd thee, Spaniard--did I? speak:

                                     [_Tell_[295] _him all the plot._

  I'll make thee satisfaction like a soldier,
  A true Italian, and a gentleman.
  Thy rage is treachery without a cause.

  _Sago._ My rage is just, and thy heart blood shall know,
  He that wrongs beauty, must be honour's foe.
  Isabel's quarrel arms the Spaniard's spirit!

  _Mass._ Murder should keep with baseness, not with merit.        50
  I'll answer thee to-morrow, by my soul,
  And clear thy doubts, or satisfy thy will.

  _Sago._ He's war's best scholar can with safety kill.
  Take this to-night; now meet with me to-morrow.

                                     [_Shoots._ MASSINO _falls dead_.

  I come, Isabella; half thy hate is dead;
  Valour makes murder light, which fear makes lead.[296]

             _Enter_ Captain _with a band of_ Soldiers.

  _Capt._ The pistol was shot here; seize him!
  Bring lights. What, Don Sago, colonel of the horse?
  Ring the alarum-bell, raise the whole city;
  His troops are in the town; I fear treachery.                    60
  Who's this lies murder'd? Speak, bloodthirsty Spaniard!

  _Sago._ I have not spoil'd his face, you may know his visnomy.

  _Capt._ 'Tis Count Massino;[297] go convey him hence;
  Thy life, proud Spaniard, answers this offence.
  A strong guard for the prisoner, 'less the city's powers
  Rise to rescue him!

                                         [_Begirt him with soldiers._

  _Sago._ What needs this strife?
  Know, slaves, I prize revenge above my life.
  Fame's register to future times shall tell
  That by Don Sago, Count Massino[297] fell!

                                                     [_Exeunt omnes._


     [288] Ed. 1631 and some copies of ed. 1613, "vote-killing."--The
     mandrake plant was supposed to shriek so poignantly when pulled
     from the ground, as to cause madness or death in the person who
     plucked it.

     [289] An allusion to the well-known superstition (to which there
     is a reference in _Hamlet_) that ghosts haunted the spot where
     they had concealed treasure in their lifetime.

     [290] The writer had certainly Hotspur's words in his memory:--
         "That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd
          Out of the _bowels_ of the _harmless earth_."--
                                                  _1 Henry IV._ i. 2.

     [291] Qu. "Divine" or "Dear"?

     [292] Old eds. "ROGERO."--The prefix to his speeches is
     "_Rog._"

     [293] Ed. 1631 "cleane fac't."

     [294] An old form of "apostate."

     [295] I suppose it was left to the actor to explain shortly the
     history of Massino's relations with Isabella.

     [296] Old eds. "dead."

     [297] Old eds. "Rogero."




                               ACT V.


                              SCENE I.

                 _Pavia.--The place of execution._

  _Enter_[298] MEDINA, _followed by soldiers with the dead body of_
     Count MASSINO _on a bier_; DON SAGO _guarded_, Executioner. _A
     scaffold laid out._


  _Med._ Don Sago, quakest thou not to behold this spectacle--
  This innocent sacrifice, murder'd nobleness--
  When blood, the Maker ever promiseth,
  Shall though with slow yet with sure vengeance rest?
  'Tis a guerdon earn'd, and must be paid;
  As sure revenge, as it is sure a deed;
  I ne'er knew murder yet, but it did bleed.
  Canst thou, after so many fearful conflicts
  Between this object and thy guilty conscience,
  Now thou art freed from out the serpent's jaws,                  10
  That vild adulteress, whose sorceries
  Doth draw chaste men into incontinence--
  Whose tongue flows over with harmful eloquence--
  Canst thou, I say, repent this heinous act,
  And learn to loathe that killing cockatrice?[299]

  _Sago._ By this fresh blood, that from thy manly breast
  I cowardly sluiced[300] out, I would in hell,
  From this sad minute till[301] the day of doom,
  To re-inspire vain Æsculapius,
  And fill these crimson conduits, feel the fire                   20
  Due to the damnèd and this horrid fact![302]

  _Med._ Upon my soul, brave Spaniard, I believe thee.

  _Sago._ O cease to weep in blood, or teach me too!
  The bubbling wounds[303] do murmur for revenge.
  This is the end of lust, where men may see,
  Murder's the shadow of adultery,
  And follows it to death.

  _Med._ But, hopeful lord, we do commiserate
  Thy bewitch'd fortunes, a free pardon give
  On this thy true and noble penitence.                            30
  Withal we make thee colonel of our horse,
  Levied against the proud Venetian state.

  _Sago._ Medina, I thank thee not; give life to him
  That sits with Risus and the full-cheek'd Bacchus,
  The rich and mighty monarchs of the earth;
  To me life is ten times more terrible
  Than death can be to me. O, break, my breast!
  _Divines_[304] _and dying men may talk of hell,
  But in my heart the several torments dwell._
  What Tanais, Nilus, or what Tigris[305] swift,                   40
  What Rhenus ferier[306] than the cataract,--
  Although[307] Neptolis cold, the waves of all the Northern Sea,
  Should flow for ever through these guilty hands,
  Yet the sanguinolent stain would extant be!

  _Med._ God pardon thee! we do.

                        _Enter a_ Messenger.

  _Mes._ The countess comes, my lord, unto the death;

                                                          [_A shout._

  But so unwillingly and unprepared,
  That she is rather forced, thinking the sum
  She sent to you of twenty thousand pound
  Would have assurèd her of life.

  _Med._ O Heavens!                                                50
  Is she not weary yet of lust and life?
  Had it been Croesus' wealth, she should have died;
  Her goods by law are all confiscate to us,
  And die she shall: her lust
  Would make a slaughter-house of Italy.
  Ere she attain'd to four-and-twenty years,
  Three earls, one viscount, and this valiant Spaniard,
  Are known to ha' been the fuel to her lust;
  Besides her secret lovers, which charitably
  I judge to have been but few, but some they were.                60
  Here is a glass wherein to view her soul,
  A noble but unfortunate gentleman,
  Cropp'd by her hand, as some rude passenger
  Doth pluck the tender roses in the bud!
  Murder and lust, the least of which is death,
  And hath she yet any false hope of breath?

  _Enter_ ISABELLA, _with her hair hanging down, a chaplet of flowers
     on her head, a nosegay in her hand; Executioner before her, and
     with her a Cardinal._

  _Isa._ What place is this?

  _Car._ Madam, the Castle Green.

  _Isa._ There should be dancing on a green, I think.

  _Car._ Madam,
  To you none other than your dance of death.                      70

  _Isa._ Good my Lord Cardinal, do not thunder thus;
  I sent to-day to my physician,
  And, as he says, he finds no sign of death.

  _Car._ Good madam, do not jest away your soul.

  _Isa._ O servant, how hast thou betray'd my life!

                                                          [_To_ SAGO.

  Thou art my dearest lover now, I see;
  Thou wilt not leave me till my very death.
  Bless'd be thy hand! I sacrifice a kiss
  To it and vengeance. Worthily thou didst;
  He died deservedly. Not content to enjoy                         80
  My youth and beauty, riches and my fortune,
  But like a chronicler of his own vice,
  In epigrams and songs he tuned my name,
  Renown'd me for a strumpet in the courts
  Of the French King and the great Emperor.
  Did'st thou not kill him drunk?[308]

  _Med._ O shameless woman!

  _Isa._ Thou should'st, or in the embraces of his lust;
  It might have been a woman's vengeance.[309]
  Yet I thank thee, Sago, and would not wish him living
  Were my life instant ransom.

  _Car._ Madam, in your soul                                       90
  Have charity.

  _Isa._ There's money for the poor.

                                                  [_Gives him money._

  _Car._ O lady, this is but a branch of charity,
  An ostentation, or a liberal pride:
  Let me instruct your soul, for that, I fear,
  Within the painted sepulchre of flesh,
  Lies in a dead consumption. Good madam, read.

                                                     [_Gives a book._

  _Isa._ You put me to my book, my lord; will not that
  save me?[310]

  _Car._ Yes, madam, in the everlasting world.

  _Sago._ Amen, amen!

  _Isa._ While thou wert my servant, thou hast ever said          100
  Amen to all my wishes. Witness this spectacle.
  Where's my lord Medina?

  _Med._ Here, Isabella. What would you?

  _Isa._ May we not be reprieved?

  _Med._ Mine honour's past; you may not.

  _Isa._ No, 'tis my honour past.

  _Med._ Thine honour's past, indeed.

  _Isa._ Then there's no hope of absolute remission?

  _Med._ For that your holy confessor will tell you;
  Be dead to this world, for I swear you die,                     110
  Were you my father's daughter.

  _Isa._ Can you do nothing, my Lord Cardinal?

  _Car._ More than the world, sweet lady; help to save
  What hand of man wants power to destroy.

  _Isa._ You're all for this world, then why not I?
  Were you in health and youth, like me, my lord,
  Although you merited the crown of life,
  And stood in state of grace assured of it,
  Yet in this fearful separation,
  Old as you are, e'en till your latest gasp,                     120
  You'd crave the help of the physician,
  And wish your days lengthen'd one summer longer.
  Though all be grief, labour, and misery,
  Yet none will part with it, that I can see.

  _Med._ Up to the scaffold with her, 'tis late.

  _Isa._ Better late than never, my good lord; you think
  You use square dealing, Medina's mighty duke,
  Tyrant of France, sent hither by the devil.

                                         [_She ascends the scaffold._

  _Med._ The fitter to meet you.

  _Car._ Peace! Good my lord, in death do not provoke her.        130

  _Isa._ Servant,
  Low as my destiny I kneel to thee,

                                                          [_To_ SAGO.

  Honouring in death thy manly loyalty;
  And what so e'er become of my poor soul,
  The joys of both worlds evermore be thine.
  Commend me to the noble Count Gniaca,
  That should have shared thy valour and my hatred:
  Tell him I pray his pardon, and--
  Medina, art [thou] yet inspired from heaven?
  Show thy Creator's image: be like Him,                          140
  Father of mercy.

  _Med._ Head's-man, do thine office.

  _Isa._ Now God lay all thy sins upon thy head,
  And sink thee with them to infernal darkness,
  Thou teacher of the furies' cruelty!

  _Car._ O madam, teach yourself a better prayer;
  This is your latest hour.

  _Isa._ He is mine enemy, his sight torments me;
  I shall not die in quiet.

  _Med._ I'll be gone: off with her head there!

                                                             [_Exit._

  _Isa._ Takest thou delight to torture misery?                   150
  Such mercy find thou in the day of doom.

  _Soul._ My lord, here is a holy friar desires
  To have some conference with the prisoners.

       _Enter_ ROBERTO, _Count of Cyprus, in friar's weeds._

  _Rob._ It is in private, what I have to say,
  With favour of your fatherhood.

  _Car._ Friar, in God's name, welcome.

                                      [ROBERTO _ascends to_ ISABELLA.

  _Rob._ Lady, it seems your eye is still the same--
  Forgetful of what most it should behold.
  Do not you know me, then?

  _Isa._ Holy sir,
  So far you are gone from my memory,                             160
  I must take truce with time ere I can know you.

  _Rob._ Bear record, all you blessèd saints in heaven,
  I come not to torment thee in thy death;
  For of himself he's terrible enough.
  But call to mind a lady like yourself;
  And think how ill in such a beauteous soul,
  Upon the instant morrow of her nuptials,
  Apostasy and vild revolt would show:
  Withal imagine that she had a lord,
  Jealous the air should ravish her chaste looks:[311]            170
  Doting like the creator in his models,
  Who views them every minute, and with care
  Mix'd in his fear of their obedience to him.
  Suppose he[r] sung through famous Italy,
  More common than the looser songs of Petrarch,
  To every several zany's instrument;
  And he, poor wretch, hoping some better fate
  Might call her back from her adulterate purpose,
  Lives in obscure and almost unknown life,
  Till hearing that she is condemn'd to die--                     180
  For he once loved her--lends his pinèd corpse
  Motion to bring him to her stage of honour,
  Where drown'd in woe at her so dismal chance,
  He clasps her: thus he falls into a trance.

  _Isa._ O, my offended lord, lift up your eyes:
  But yet avert them from my loathèd sight.
  Had I with you enjoyed the lawful pleasure,
  To which belongs nor fear nor public shame,
  I might have lived in honour, died in fame!
  Your pardon on my falt'ring knees I beg,                        190
  Which shall confirm more peace unto my death
  Than all the grave instructions of the Church.

  _Rob._ Pardon belongs unto my holy weeds,
  Freely thou hast it.
  Farewell, my Isabella! let thy death
  Ransom thy soul. O die a rare example!
  The kiss thou gavest me in the church, here take;
  As I leave thee, so thou the world forsake!

                                                     [_Exit_ ROBERTO.

  _Car._[312] Rare accident, ill welcome, noble lord.
  Madam, your executioner desires you to forgive him.             200

  _Isa._ Yes, and give him too. What must I do, my
  friend?

  _Exec._ Madam, only tie up your hair.

  _Isa._ O, these golden nets,
  That have ensnared so many wanton youths,
  Not one but has been held a thread of life,
  And superstitiously depended on.
  Now to the block we must vail! What else?

  _Exec._ Madam, I must entreat you, blind your eyes.

  _Isa._ I have lived too long in darkness, my friend;
  And yet mine eyes, with their majestic light,
  Have got new muses in a poet's sprite.                          210
  They have been more gazed at than the god of day:
  Their brightness never could be flatterèd,
  Yet thou command'st a fixèd cloud of lawn
  To eclipse eternally these minutes of light.
  What else?

  _Exec._ Now, madam, all's done,
  And when you please, I'll execute my office.

  _Isa._ We will be for thee straight.
  Give me your blessing, my Lord Cardinal.
  Lord, I am well prepared:
  Murder and lust, down with my ashes sink,                       220
  But, like ingrateful seed, perish in earth,
  That you may never spring against my soul,
  Like weeds to choke it in the heavenly harvest.
  I fall to rise; mount to thy Maker, spirit!
  Leave here thy body, death has her demerit.

                             [_The executioner strikes off her head._

  _Car._ A host of angels be thy convey [_sic_] hence.

                      _Re-enter_ MEDINA.[313]

  _Med._ To funeral with her body and this lord's.
  None here, I hope, can tax us of injustice:
  She died deservedly, and may like fate
  Attend all women so insatiate.                                  230

                                                     [_Exeunt omnes._


     [298] Old eds. "_Enter_ MEDINA, _the dead body of_ GUIDO _alias
     Count_ ARSENA, _and Souldiours, &c._"

     [299] A creature resembling a serpent. It was bred from a cock's
     egg, and had a cock's crest; the sight of it caused sudden
     death.--The term was frequently applied to a wanton woman.

     [300] See note, vol. i. p. 189.

     [301] Ed. 1613 "still."

     [302] "Fact"--guilty deed, crime.

     [303] It was a common superstition that the wounds of a murdered
     man bled in the presence of the murderer.

     [304] This couplet is from a copy of verses in Nashe's _Pierce
     Penniless_, 1592 (_Works_, ed. Grosart, ii. 10). It is also found
     in the _Yorkshire Tragedy_, 1608.

     [305] Ed. 1613 "Tioris."

     [306] _Fere_ = proud, fierce. The word was obsolete in Marston's
     time.

     [307] Quy. "Though _Neptune_ cold"?--The passage smacks of
     _Macbeth_.

     [308] Cf. _Hamlet_, iii. 3:--
         "Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
          When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage;
          Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed," &c.

     [309] Marston almost invariably makes a trisyllable of "vengeance."

     [310] _i.e._, cannot I be saved by "benefit of clergy"?

     [311] Cf. _Hamlet_, i. 2:--
                      "So loving to my mother
          That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
          Visit her face too roughly."

     [312] Old eds. "_Clarid._"

     [313] Medina's re-entrance is not marked in old eds.


                              SCENE II.

                    _Venice.--The Senate-house._

       _Enter_ AMAGO _the_ Duke, _the_ Watch, _and_ Senators.


  _Duke._ I am amazèd at this maze of wonder,
  Wherein no thread or clue presents itself,
  To wind us from the obscure passages.
  What says my nephew?

  _Watch._ Still resolute, my lord, and doth confess the theft.

  _Duke._ We'll use him like a felon; cut him off,
  For fear he do pollute our sounder parts.
  Yet why should he steal,
  That is a loaden vine? Riches to him
  Were adding sands into the Libyan shore,                         10
  Or far less charity. What say the other prisoners?

  _Watch._ Like men, my lord, fit for the other world,
  They take't upon their death, they slew your nephew.

  _Duke._ And he is yet alive; keep them asunder;
  We may scent out the wile.

          _Enter_ CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO _bound; with a_
                       Friar _and_ Officers.

  _Rog._ My friend, is it the rigour of the law
  I should be tied thus hard, I'll undergo it;
  If not, prithee then slacken. Yet I have deserved it;
  This murder lies heavy on my conscience.

  _Cla._ Wedlock, ay, here's my wedlock! O whore, whore, whore!    21

  _Friar._ O, sir, be qualified.

  _Cla._ Sir,[314] I am to die a dog's death, and will snarl
  a little at the old signor. You are only a parenthesis,
  which I will leave out of my execrations; but first to
  our _quondam_ wives, that makes us cry our vowels in
  red capital letters, "I[315] and U are cuckolds!" O may
  bastard-bearing, with the pangs of childbirth, be doubled
  to 'em![316] May they have ever twins, and be three week
  in travail between! May they be so rivell'd[317] with
  painting by that time they are thirty, that it may be
  held a work of condign merit but to look upon 'em!
  May they live to ride in triumph in a dung-cart, and be
  brown'd with all the odious ceremonies belonging to 't!
  may the cucking-stool be their recreation, and a dungeon
  their dying-chamber! May they have nine lives like a
  cat, to endure this and more! May they be burnt for
  witches of a sudden! And lastly, may the opinion of
  philosophers prove true, that women have no souls!               39

                    _Enter_ THAIS _and_ ABIGAIL.

  _Tha._ What, husband--at your prayers so seriously?

  _Cla._ Yes, a few orisons. Friar, thou that stand'st between
  the soul of men and the devil, keep these female
  spirits away, or I will renounce my faith else.

  _Abi._ O husband, I little thought to see you in this
  taking!

  _Rog._ O whore, I little thought to see you in this
  taking! I am governor of this castle of cornets; my
  grave will be stumbled at, thou adult'rate whore! I
  might have lived like a merchant.

  _Abi._ So you may still, husband.                                50

  _Rog._ Peace! thou art very quick with me.

  _Abi._ Ay, by my faith, and so I am, husband; belike
  you know I am with child.

  _Rog._ A bastard, a bastard, a bastard! I might have
  lived like a gentleman, and now I must die like a
  hanger on, show tricks upon a wooden horse, and run
  through an alphabet of scurvy faces! Do not expect a
  good look from me.

  _Abi._ O me unfortunate!                                         59

  _Cla._ O to think, whilst we are singing the last hymn,
  and ready to be turn'd off, some new tune is inventing
  by some metremonger, to a scurvy ballad of our death!
  Again, at our funeral sermons, to have the divine divide
  his text into fair branches! O, flesh and blood cannot
  endure it! Yet I will take it patiently like a grave man.
  Hangman, tie not my halter of a true lover's knot: I
  burst it if thou dost.

  _Tha._ Husband, I do beseech you on my knees,
  I may but speak with you. I'll win your pardon,
  Or with tears, like Niobe, bedew a--                             70

  _Cla._ Hold thy water, crocodile, and say I am bound
  to do thee no harm; were I free, yet I could not be
  looser than thou; for thou art a whore! Agamemnon's
  daughter, that was sacrificed for a good wind, felt but a
  blast of the torments thou should'st endure; I'd make
  thee swound oftener than that fellow that by his continual
  practice hopes to become drum-major. What
  sayst thou to tickling to death with bodkins? But thou
  hast laugh'd too much at me already, whore! Justice,
  O duke! and let me not hang in suspense.                         80

  _Abi._ Husband,
  I'll nail me to the earth, but I'll win your pardon.
  My jewels, jointure, all I have shall fly;
  Apparel, bedding, I'll not leave a rug,
  So you may come off fairly.

  _Cla._ I'll come off fairly: thou[318] beg my pardon! I had
  rather Chirurgeons' Hall should beg my dead body for an
  anatomy[319] than thou beg my life. Justice, O duke! and
  let us die!

  _Duke._ Signior, think, and dally not with heaven,               90
  But freely tell us, did you do the murder?

  _Rog._ I have confess'd it to my ghostly father,
  And done the sacrament of penance for it.
  What would your highness more?

  _Cla._ The like have I; what would your highness more?
  And here before you all take't o' my death.

  _Duke._ In God's name, then, on to the death with them.
  For the poor widows that you leave behind,
  Though by the law their goods are all confiscate,
  Yet we'll be their good lord, and give 'em them.                100

  _Cla._ O, hell of hells! Why did not we hire some
  villain to fire our houses?

  _Rog._ I thought not of that; my mind was altogether
  of the gallows.

  _Cla._ May the wealth I leave behind me help to damn her!
  And as the cursèd fate of courtezan,
  What she gleans with her traded art,
  May one, as a most due plague, cheat from [her]
  In the last dotage of her tirèd lust,
  And leave her an unpitied age of woe!                           110

  _Rog._ Amen, amen!

  _Watch._ I never heard men pray more fervently.

  _Rog._ O that a man had the instinct of a lion!
  He knows when the lioness plays false to him.[320]
  But these solaces, these women, they bring man to grey
  hairs before he be thirty; yet they cast out such mists
  of flattery from their breath, that a man's lost again.
  Sure I fell into my marriage-bed drunk, like the leopard;[321]
  well, with sober eyes, would I had avoided it!
  Come, grave, and hide me from my blasted fame.
  O that thou couldst as well conceal my shame!

                                       [_Exeunt ambo, with_ Officers.

  _Tha._ Your pardon and your favour, gracious duke,              120

                                                      [_Women kneel._

  At once we do implore, that have so long
  Deceived your royal expectation,
  Assurèd that the comic knitting up
  Will move your spleen unto the proper use
  Of mirth, your natural inclination;
  And wipe away the watery-coloured anger
  From your enforcèd cheek. Fair lord, beguile
  Them and your saf't[322] with a pleasing smile.                 130

  _Duke._ Now by my life I do: fair ladies, rise;
  I ne'er did purpose any other end
  To them and these designs. I was inform'd
  Of some notorious error as I sat in judgment;
  And--do you hear?--these night works require
  A cat's eyes to impierce dejected darkness.
  Call back the prisoners.

        _Re-enter_ CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO, _with_ Officers.

  _Cla._ Now what other troubled news, that we must
  back thus? Has any senator begg'd my pardon upon
  my wife's prostitution to him?                                  140

  _Rog._ What a spite's this; I had kept in my breath of
  purpose, thinking to go away the quieter, and must we
  now back?

  _Duke._ Since you are to die, we'll give you winding-sheets,
  Wherein you shall be shrouded alive,
  By which we wind out all these miseries.
  Signor Rogero, bestow a while your eye,
  And read here of your true wife's chastity.

                                               [_Gives him a letter._

  _Rog._ Chastity?
  I will sooner expect a Jesuit's recantation,                    150
  Or the great Turk's conversion, than her chastity.
  Pardon, my liege; I will not trust mine eyes:
  Women and devils will deceive the wise!

  _Duke._ The like, sir, is apparent on your side.

                                                    [_To_ CLARIDIANA.

  _Cla._ Who? my wife?--chaste? Has your grace your
  sense? I'll sooner believe a conjuror may say his prayers
  with zeal, than her honesty. Had she been an hermaphrodite,
  I would scarce have given credit to you.
  Let him that hath drunk love-drugs trust a woman.
  By Heaven, I think the air is not more common!                  160

  _Duke._ Then we impose a strict command upon you.
  On your allegiance read what there is writ.

  _Cla._ A writ of error, on my life, my liege!

  _Duke._ You'll find it so, I fear.

  _Cla._ What have we here--the Art of Brachygraphy?

                                              [_Looks on the letter._

  _Tha._ He's stung already:
  As if his eyes were turn'd on Perseus' shield,
  Their motion's fix'd, like to the pool of Styx.

  _Abi._ Yonder's our flames; and from the hollow arches
  Of his quick eyes comes comet-trains of fire,                   170
  Bursting like hidden furies from their caves.

  _Cla._[323] [_reading._] _Yours till he sleep the sleep of all the
  world, Rogero._

  _Rog._ Marry, and that lethargy seize you!  Read
  again.

                                                      [_Reads again._

  _Cla._ _Thy servant so made by his stars, Rogero._
  A fire on your wand'ring stars, Rogero!

  _Rog._ Satan, why hast thou tempted my wife?

                                                    [_To_ CLARIDIANA.

  _Cla._ Peace, seducer; I am branded in the forehead
  with your star-mark. May the stars drop upon thee,
  and with their sulphur vapours choke thee, ere thou
  come at the gallows!                                            181

  _Rog._ Stretch not my patience, Mahomet.

  _Cla._ Termagant,[324] that will stretch thy patience!

  _Rog._ Had I known this I would have poison'd thee in the chalice
  This morning, when we received the sacrament.[325]

  _Cla._ Slave, know'st thou this? [_showing the ring_] 'tis an
       appendix to the letter;
  But the greater temptation is hidden within.
  I will scour thy gorge like a hawk:
  Thou shalt swallow thine own stone in this letter,
  Seal'd and delivered in the presence of----

                                                      [_They bustle._

  _Duke._ Keep them asunder; list to us, we command--

  _Cla._ O violent villain! is not thy hand hereto,               192
  And writ in blood to show thy raging lust?

  _Tha._ Spice of a new halter, when you go a-ranging
  thus like devils, would you might burn[326] for't as they do!

  _Rog._ Thus 'tis to lie with another man's wife: he shall
  be sure to hear on't again. But we are friends, sweet duck.

                                                     [_Kisses_ THAIS.

  And this shall be my maxim all my life:--
  Man never happy is till in a wife.                              200

  _Cla._ Here sink our hate lower than any whirlpool;
  And this chaste kiss I give thee for thy care,

                                                   [_Kisses_ ABIGAIL.

  Thou[327] fame of women, full as wise as fair.

  _Duke._ You have saved us a labour in your love.
  But, gentlemen, why stood you so prepost'rously?
  Would you have headlong run to infamy--
  In so defamed a death?

  _Rog._ O, my liege, I had rather roar to death with
  Phalaris' bull, than, Darius-like, to have one of my wings
  extend to Atlas, the other to Europe.                           210
     What is a cuckold, learn of me:
     Few can tell his pedigree,
     Nor his subtile nature conster.
     Born a man but dies a monster:
     Yet great antiquaries say,
     They spring from out Methusala,
     Who after Noah's flood was found
     To have his crest with branches crown'd.
     God in Eden's happy shade
     This same [wondrous] creature made.                          220
     Then to cut off all mistaking,
     Cuckolds are of women's making;
     From whose snares, good Lord deliver us!

  _Cla._ Amen, amen!
  Before I would prove a cuckold, I would endure a
  winter's pilgrimage in the frozen zone--go stark naked
  through Muscovia, where the climate is nine degrees
  colder than ice. And thus much to all married
  men:--
     Now I see great reason why                                   230
     Love should marry jealousy:
     Since man's best of life is fame,
     He hath need preserve the same;
     When 'tis in a woman's keeping,
     Let not Argus' eyes be sleeping.
     The box[328] unto Pandora given
     By the better powers of heaven,
     That contains pure chastity,
     And each virgin sovereignty,
     Wantonly she oped and lost,                                  240
     Gift whereof a god might boast.
     Therefore, shouldst thou Diana wed,
     Yet be jealous of her bed.

  _Duke._ Night,[329] like a masque, is enter'd heaven's great hall,
  With thousand torches ushering the way.
  To Risus will we consecrate this evening;
  Like[330] Mycerinus cheating th' oracle,
  We'll make this night the day. Fair joys befall
  Us and our actions. Are you pleasèd all?

                                                     [_Exeunt omnes._


     [314] This scene is printed throughout as verse in old eds.

     [315] "I and U"--so the editor of 1820. Old eds. "IOV."

     [316] Old eds. "him."

     [317] Wrinkled.

     [318] Old eds. "then."

     [319] _i.e._, subject for dissection.

     [320] Topsel in his account of the lion writes:--"Their sight and
     their smelling are most excellent, for they sleep with their eyes
     open, and because of the brightness of their eyes they cannot
     endure the light of fire, for fire and fire cannot agree: also
     their smelling (for which cause they are called _Odorati_)
     is very eminent, for _if the lioness have committed adultery
     with the leopard the male discovereth it by the sense of his
     nose_."--_History of Fourfooted Beasts_, ed. 1658, p.
     360.

     [321] Topsel has some remarks on the fondness of leopards for
     wine.

     [322] Quy. "Them, and _yourself too_"?

     [323] Not marked in old eds.

     [324] Often mentioned in company with Mahomet and regarded as a
     Saracen deity. In the miracle-plays he was introduced as a noisy
     ranter, like Herod.

     [325] In the closing chapter of _Vulgar Errors_, Sir Thomas
     Browne writes:--"I hope it is not true, and some indeed have
     probably denied, what is recorded of the monk who poisoned Henry
     the emperor in a draught of the Holy Eucharist. 'Twas a
     scandalous wound unto the Christian religion, and I hope all
     Pagans will forgive it, when they shall read that a Christian was
     poisoned in a cup of Christ and received his bane in a draught of
     his salvation."

     [326] An allusion to _lues venerea_.

     [327] Old eds. "That."

     [328] The waggish old printers read "The pox is unto panders
     given!" The line (which was properly restored by the editor of
     1820) must have been purposely misprinted.

     [329] "Night ... the way."--These lines are found in Barkstead's
     _Myrrha_, 1607. See Introduction to vol. i.

     [330] Old eds. "Like _Missermis_ cheating of the _brack_." The
     editor of 1820 reads "Like Missermis cheating of the brach," and
     to the word _brach_ appends a note, "_i.e._, the bitch;" but who
     was Missermis and what the bitch? Every reader of Herodotus (and
     every reader of Matthew Arnold) will remember how Mycerinus
     cheated the oracle by turning the day into the night. Six
     thousand years ago the torches flared in Mycerinus' palace; and I
     saw his bones this afternoon at Bloomsbury!




                                THE
                           METAMORPHOSIS
                                 OF
                         PYGMALION'S IMAGE,
                        AND CERTAIN SATIRES.




  _The Metamorphosis of Pigmalions Image. And Certaine Satyres. At
     London, Printed for Edmond Matts, & are to be sold at the signe
     of the hand and Plough in Fleet streete._ 1598. 8vo.




                  _TO THE WORLD'S MIGHTY MONARCH_,

                           GOOD OPINION.

  Sole regent of affection, perpetual ruler of judgment, most famous
     justice of censures, only giver of honour, great procurer of
     advancement, the world's chief balance, the all of all, and all
     in all, by whom all things are that that they are, I humbly offer
     this my poem.


  Thou soul of pleasure, honour's only substance,
  Great arbitrator, umpire of the earth,
  Whom fleshly epicures call virtue's essence;
  Thou moving orator, whose powerful breath
    Sways all men's judgment--Great Opinion,
    Vouchsafe to gild my imperfection.

  If thou but deign to grace my blushing style,
  And crown my muse with good opinion;
  If thou vouchsafe with gracious eye to smile
  Upon my young new-born invention,
    I'll sing a hymn in honour of thy name
    And add some trophy to enlarge thy fame.

  But if thou wilt not with thy deity
  Shade and inmask the errors of my pen,
  Protect an orphan poet's infancy,
  I will disclose, that all the world shall ken
    How partial thou art in honours giving,
    Crowning the shade, the substance' praise depriving.

                                                        W. K.[331]


     [331] W. K[insayder].--See _Introduction_, vol. i.




                    _THE ARGUMENT OF THE POEM._


Pygmalion, whose chaste mind all the beauties in Cyprus could not
ensnare, yet, at the length having carved in ivory an excellent
proportion of a beauteous woman, was so deeply enamoured on his own
workmanship that he would oftentimes lay the image in bed with him,
and fondly use such petitions and dalliance as if it had been a
breathing creature. But in the end, finding his fond dotage, and yet
persevering in his ardent affection, made his devout prayers to Venus,
that she would vouchsafe to inspire life into his love, and then join
them both together in marriage. Whereupon Venus, graciously
condescending to his earnest suit, the maid (by the power of her
deity) was metamorphosed into a living woman. And after, Pygmalion
(being in Cyprus) begat a son of her, which was called Paphus;
whereupon that island Cyprus, in honour of Venus, was after, and is
now, called by the inhabitants, Paphos.[332]


     [332] Paphos was the name of a town in Cyprus (celebrated for its
     temple of Aphrodite)--not of the island itself.




                         _TO HIS MISTRESS._

  My wanton muse lasciviously doth sing
  Of sportive love, of lovely dallying.
  O beauteous angel! deign thou to infuse
  A sprightly wit into my dullèd muse.
  I invocate none other saint but thee,
  To grace the first blooms of my poesy.
  Thy favours, like Promethean sacred fire,
  In dead and dull conceit can life inspire;
  Or, like that rare and rich elixir stone,
  Can turn to gold leaden invention.
  Be gracious then, and deign to show in me
  The mighty power of thy deity;
  And as thou read'st (fair) take compassion--
  Force me not envy my Pygmalion:
  Then when thy kindness grants me such sweet bliss,
  I'll gladly write thy Metamorphosis.




                        PYGMALION.


  Pygmalion, whose high love-hating mind
  Disdain'd to yield servile affection
  Or amorous suit to any woman-kind,
  Knowing their wants and men's perfection;
      Yet love at length forced him to know his fate,
      And love the shade whose substance he did hate.

  For having wrought in purest ivory
  So fair an image of a woman's feature,[333]
  That never yet proudest mortality
  Could show so rare and beauteous a creature                      10
      (Unless my mistress' all-excelling face,
      Which gives to beauty beauty's only grace)--

  He was amazèd at the wondrous rareness
  Of his own workmanship's perfection.
  He thought that Nature ne'er produced such fairness,
  In which all beauties have their mansion;
      And, thus admiring, was enamourèd
      On that fair image himself portrayèd.

  And naked as it stood before his eyes,
  Imperious Love declares his deity:                               20
  O what alluring beauties he descries
  In each part of his fair imagery!
      Her nakedness each beauteous shape contains;
      All beauty in her nakedness remains.

  He thought he saw the blood run through the vein
  And leap, and swell with all alluring means;
  Then fears he is deceived, and then again
  He thinks he seeth the brightness of the beams
      Which shoot from out the fairness of her eye;
      At which he stands as in an ecstasy.                         30

  Her amber-colourèd, her shining hair,
  Makes him protest the sun hath spread her head
  With golden beams, to make her far more fair;
  But when her cheeks his amorous thoughts have fed,
      Then he exclaims, "Such red and so pure white,
      Did never bless the eye of mortal sight!"

  Then views her lips, no lips did seem so fair
  In his conceit, through which he thinks doth fly
  So sweet a breath, that doth perfume the air;
  Then next her dimpled chin he doth descry,                         40
      And views and wonders, and yet views her still,--
      Love's eyes in viewing never have their fill.

  Her breasts like polish'd ivory appear,
  Whose modest mount do bless admiring eye,
  And makes him wish for such a pillowbear.[334]
  Thus fond Pygmalion striveth to descry
      Each beauteous part, not letting over-slip
      One parcel of his curious workmanship;

  Until his eye descended so far down
  That it descrièd Love's pavilion,                                50
  Where Cupid doth enjoy his only crown,
  And Venus hath her chiefest mansion:
      There would he wink, and winking look again,
      Both eyes and thoughts would gladly there remain.

  Who ever saw the subtile city-dame
  In sacred church, when her pure thoughts should pray,
  Peer through her fingers, so to hide her shame,
  When that her eye, her mind would fain bewray:
      So would he view and wink, and view again;
      A chaster thought could not his eyes retain.                 60

  He wondered that she blush'd not when his eye
  Saluted those same parts of secresy:
  Conceiting not it was imagery
  That kindly yielded that large liberty.
      O that my mistress were an image too,
      That I might blameless her perfections view!

  But when the fair proportion of her thigh
  Began appear, "O Ovid!" would he cry,
  "Did e'en Corinna show such ivory
  When she appeared in Venus livery!"                              70
      And thus enamour'd dotes on his own art
      Which he did work, to work his pleasing smart.

  And fondly doting, oft he kiss'd her lip;
  Oft would he dally with her ivory breasts;
  No wanton love-trick would he over-slip,
  But still observ'd all amorous beheasts,
      Whereby he thought he might procure the love
      Of his dull image, which no plaints could move.

  Look how the peevish[335] Papists crouch and kneel
  To some dumb idol with their offering,                           80
  As if a senseless carvèd stone could feel
  The ardour of his bootless chattering,
      So fond he was, and earnest in his suit
      To his remorseless image, dumb and mute.

  He oft doth wish his soul might part in sunder
  So that one half in her had residence;
  Oft he exclaims, "O beauty's only wonder!
  Sweet model of delight, fair excellence,
      Be gracious unto him that formèd thee,
      Compassionate his true love's ardency."                      90

  She with her silence seems to grant his suit;
  Then he all jocund, like a wanton lover,
  With amorous embracements doth salute
  Her slender waist, presuming to discover
      The vale of Love, where Cupid doth delight
      To sport and dally all the sable night.

  His eyes her eyes kindly encounterèd;
  His breast her breast oft joinèd close unto;
  His arms' embracements oft she sufferèd;
  Hands, arms, eyes, tongue, lips, and all parts did woo;         100
      His thigh with hers, his knee play'd with her knee,--
      A happy consort when all parts agree!

  But when he saw, poor soul, he was deceivèd
  (Yet scarce he could believe his sense had failed[336]),
  Yet when he found all hope from him bereavèd,
  And saw how fondly all his thoughts had erred,
      Then did he like to poor Ixion seem,
      That clipt a cloud instead of Heaven's Queen.

  I oft have smiled to see the foolery
  Of some sweet youths, who seriously protest                     110
  That love respects not actual luxury,
  But only joys to dally, sport, and jest;
      Love is a child, contented with a toy;
      A busk-point[337] or some favour stills the boy.

  Mark my Pygmalion, whose affections' ardour
  May be a mirror to posterity;
  Yet viewing, touching, kissing (common favour),
  Could never satiate his love's ardency:
      And therefore, ladies, think that they ne'er love you,
      Who do not unto more than kissing move you.                 120

  For Pygmalion kiss'd, view'd, and embraced,
  And yet exclaims, "Why were these women made,
  O sacred gods, and with such beauties graced!
  Have they not power as well to cool and shade,
      As for to heat men's hearts? Or is there none,
      Or are they all, like mine, relentless stone?"

  With that he takes her in his loving arms,
  And down within a down-bed softly laid her;
  Then on his knees he all his senses charms,
  To invocate sweet Venus for to raise her                        130
      To wishèd life, and to infuse some breath
      To that which, dead, yet gave a life to death.

  "Thou sacred queen of sportive dallying"
  (Thus he begins), "Love's only emperess,
  Whose kingdom rests in wanton revelling,
  Let me beseech thee show thy powerfulness
      In changing stone to flesh! Make her relent,
      And kindly yield to thy sweet blandishment.

  "O gracious goodess,[338] take compassion;
  Instil into her some celestial fire,                            140
  That she may equalise affection,
  And have a mutual love, and love's desire!
      Thou know'st the force of love, then pity me--
      Compassionate my true love's ardency."

  Thus having said, he riseth from the floor
  As if his soul divinèd him good fortune,
  Hoping his prayers to pity moved some power;
  For all his thoughts did all good luck importune;
      And therefore straight he strips him naked quite,
      That in the bed he might have more delight.                 150

  Then thus, "Sweet sheets," he says, "which now do cover
  The idol of my soul, the fairest one
  That ever loved, or had an amorous lover--
  Earth's only model of perfection--
      Sweet happy sheets, deign for to take me in,
      That I my hopes and longing thoughts may win!"

  With that his nimble limbs do kiss the sheets,
  And now he bows him for to lay him down;
  And now each part with her fair parts do meet,
  Now doth he hope for to enjoy love's crown;                     160
      Now do they dally, kiss, embrace together,
      Like Leda's twins at sight of fairest weather.

  Yet all's conceit--but shadow of that bliss
  Which now my muse strives sweetly to display
  In this my wondrous Metamorphosis.
  Deign to believe me--now I sadly[339] say--
      The stony substance of his image feature
      Was straight transform'd into a living creature!

  For when his hands her fair-form'd limbs had felt,
  And that his arms her naked waist embraced,                     170
  Each part like wax before the sun did melt,
  And now, O now, he finds how he is graced
      By his own work! Tut! women will relent
      When as they find such moving blandishment.

  Do but conceive a mother's passing gladness
  (After that death her only son had seized,
  And overwhelm'd her soul with endless sadness)
  When that she sees him 'gin for to be raised
      From out his deadly swoun to life again:
      Such joy Pygmalion feels in every vein.                     180

  And yet he fears he doth but dreaming find
  So rich content and such celestial bliss;
  Yet when he proves and finds her wondrous kind,
  Yielding soft touch for touch, sweet kiss for kiss,
      He's well assured no fair imagery
      Could yield such pleasing love's felicity.

  O wonder not to hear me thus relate,
  And say to flesh transformèd was a stone!
  Had I my love in such a wishèd state
  As was afforded to Pygmalion,                                   190
      Though flinty-hard, of her you soon should see
      As strange a transformation wrought by me.

  And now methinks some wanton itching ear,
  With lustful thoughts and ill attention,
  Lists to my muse, expecting for to hear
  The amorous description of that action
      Which Venus seeks, and ever doth require,
      When fitness grants a place to please desire.

  Let him conceit but what himself would do
  When that he had obtainèd such a favour                         200
  Of her to whom his thoughts were bound unto,
  If she, in recompence of his love's labour,
      Would deign to let one pair of sheets contain
      The willing bodies of those loving twain.

  Could he, O could he! when that each to either
  Did yield kind kissing and more kind embracing--
  Could he when that they felt and clipp'd together,
  And might enjoy the life of dallying--
      Could he abstain midst such a wanton sporting,
      From doing that which is not fit reporting?                 210

  What would he do when that her softest skin
  Saluted his with a delightful kiss;
  When all things fit for love's sweet pleasuring
  Invited him to reap a lover's bliss?
      What he would do, the self-same action
      Was not neglected by Pygmalion.

  For when he found that life had took his seat
  Within the breast of his kind beauteous love--
  When that he found that warmth and wishèd heat
  Which might a saint and coldest spirit move--                   220
      Then arms, eyes, hands, tongue, lips, and wanton thigh,
      Were willing agents in love's luxury!

  Who knows not what ensues? O pardon me!
  Ye gaping ears that swallow up my lines,
  Expect no more: peace, idle poesy,
  Be not obscene though wanton in thy rhymes;
      And, chaster thoughts, pardon if I do trip,
      Or if some loose lines from my pen do slip.

  Let this suffice, that that same happy night,
  So gracious were the gods of marriage,                          230
  Midst all their pleasing and long-wish'd delight
  Paphus was got; of whom in after age
      Cy[p]rus was Paphos call'd, and evermore
      Those islanders do Venus' name adore.


          _The_ AUTHOR _in praise of his precedent Poem._

  Now, Rufus, by old Glebron's fearful mace,
  Hath not my muse deserved a worthy place?
  Come, come, Luxurio, crown my head with bays,
  Which, like a Paphian, wantonly displays
  The Salaminian[340] titillations,
  Which tickle up our lewd Priapians.
  Is not my pen complete? Are not my lines
  Right in the swaggering humour of these times?
  O sing pæana to my learnèd muse:
  _Io bis dicite!_ Wilt thou refuse?                               10
  Do not I put my mistress in before,
  And piteously her gracious aid implore?
  Do not I flatter, call her wondrous fair,
  Virtuous, divine, most debonair?
  Hath not my goddess, in the vaunt-guard[341] place,
  The leading of my lines their plumes to grace?
  And then ensues my stanzas, like odd bands
  Of voluntaries[342] and mercenarians,
  Which, like soldados[343] of our warlike age,
  March rich bedight in warlike equipage,                          20
  Glittering in dawbèd laced accoustrements,[344]
  And pleasing suits of love's habiliments;
  Yet puffy as Dutch hose they are within,
  Faint and white-liver'd, as our gallants bin;
  Patch'd like a beggar's cloak, and run as sweet
  As doth a tumbril[345] in the pavèd street.
  And in the end (the end of love, I wot),
  Pygmalion hath a jolly boy begot.
  So Labeo did complain his love was stone,
  Obdurate, flinty, so relentless none;                            30
  Yet Lynceus knows that in the end of this
  He wrought as strange a metamorphosis.
  Ends not my poem then surpassing ill?
  Come, come, Augustus, crown my laureate quill.
    Now, by the whips of epigrammatists,
  I'll not be lasht for my dissembling shifts;
  And therefore I use Popelings'[346] discipline,
  Lay ope my faults to Mastigophoros' eyne;
  Censure my self, 'fore others me deride
  And scoff at me, as if I had denied                              40
  Or thought my poem good, when that I see
  My lines are froth, my stanzas sapless be.
  Thus having rail'd against myself a while,
  I'll snarl at those which do the world beguile
  With maskèd shows. Ye changing Proteans, list,
  And tremble at a barking satirist.


     [333] Shape.

     [334] Pillowcase.--An old word used by Chaucer in the prologue to
     the _Canterbury Tales_.

     [335] Idle, silly.

     [336] Quy. "swerved" (an imperfect rhyme to "erred")?

     [337] See note, vol. i. p. 9.

     [338] Old eds. "Gods."

     [339] "Sadly"--in sober truth.

     [340] Salamis,--a town of Cyprus.

     [341] Van-guard.

     [342] Volunteers.

     [343] Soldiers. (_Span._)

     [344] See note, vol. i. p. 24.

     [345] Dung-cart.

     [346] Contemptuous term for Papists.




                              SATIRES.


                             SATIRE I.

                  _Quoedam videntur, et non sunt._

  I cannot show in strange proportion,
  Changing my hue like a cameleon;
  But you all-canning[347] wits, hold water out,
  Ye vizarded-bifronted-Janian rout.
  Tell me, brown Ruscus, hast thou Gyges' ring,
  That thou presumest as if thou wert unseen?
  If not, why in thy wits half capreal
  Lett'st thou a superscribèd letter fall?
  And from thyself unto thyself dost send,
  And in the same thyself thyself commend?                         10
  For shame! leave running to some satrapas,
  Leave glavering[348] on him in the peopled press;
  Holding him on as he through Paul's doth walk,
  With nods and legs[349] and odd superfluous talk;
  Making men think thee gracious in his sight,
  When he esteems thee but a parasite.
  For shame! unmask; leave for to cloke intent,
  And show thou art vain-glorious, impudent.
    Come, Briscus, by the soul of compliment,
  I'll not endure that with thine instrument                       20
  (Thy gambo-viol placed betwixt thy thighs,
  Wherein the best part of thy courtship lies)
  Thou entertain the time, thy mistress by.
  Come, now let's hear thy mounting Mercury.
  What! mum? Give him his fiddle once again,
  Or he's more mute than a Pythagoran.
  But oh! the absolute Castilio,[350]--
  He that can all the points of courtship show;
  He that can trot a courser, break a rush,
  And arm'd in proof, dare dure a straw's strong push;             30
  He, who on his glorious scutcheon
  Can quaintly show wit's new invention,
  Advancing forth some thirsty Tantalus,
  Or else the vulture on Prometheus,
  With some short motto of a dozen lines;
  He that can purpose it in dainty rhymes,
  Can set his face, and with his eye can speak,
  Can dally with his mistress' dangling feak,[351]
  And wish that he were it, to kiss her eye
  And flare about her beauty's deity:--                            40
  Tut! he is famous for his revelling,
  For fine set speeches, and for sonnetting;
  He scorns the viol and the scraping stick,
  And yet's but broker of another's wit.
  Certes, if all things were well known and view'd,
  He doth but champ that which another chew'd.
  Come, come, Castilion, skim thy posset curd,
  Show thy queer substance, worthless, most absurd.
  Take ceremonious compliment from thee!
  Alas! I see Castilio's beggary.                                  50
    O if Democritus were now alive,
  How he would laugh to see this devil thrive!
  And by an holy semblance blear men's eyes,
  When he intends some damnèd villanies.
  Ixion makes fair weather unto Jove,
  That he might make foul work with his fair love;
  And is right sober in his outward semblance,
  Demure, and modest in his countenance;
  Applies himself to great Saturnus' son,
  Till Saturn's daughter yields his motion.                        60
  Night-shining Phoebe knows what was begat--
  A monstrous Centaur illegitimate.
    Who would not chuck to see such pleasing sport--
  To see such troops of gallants still resort
  Unto Cornuto's shop? What other cause
  But chaste Brownetta,[352] Sporo thither draws?
  Who now so long hath praised the chough's white bill,
  That he hath left her ne'er a flying quill:
  His meaning gain, though outward semblance love,
  So like a crabfish Sporo still doth move.                        70
  Laugh, laugh, to see the world, Democritus,
  Cry like that strange transformèd Tereus.[353]
  Now Sorbo, with a feignèd gravity,
  Doth fish for honour and high dignity.
  Nothing within, nor yet without, but beard,
  Which thrice he strokes, before I ever heard
  One wise grave word to bless my listening ear.
  But mark how Good Opinion doth him rear:
  See, he's in office, on his foot-cloth placed;
  Now each man caps, and strives for to be graced                  80
  With some rude nod of his majestic head,
  Which all do wish in limbo harrièd.
  But O I grieve that good men deign to be
  Slaves unto him that's slave to villany!
  Now Sorbo swells with self-conceited sense,
  Thinking that men do yield this reverence
  Unto his virtues: fond credulity!
  Ass, take[354] off Isis, no man honours thee.
    Great Tubrio's feather gallantly doth wave,
  Full twenty falls[355] doth make him wondrous brave.             90
  O golden jerkin! royal arming coat!
  Like ship on sea, he on the land doth float.
  He's gone, he's shipp'd, his resolution
  Pricks him[356] (by Heaven) to this action.
  The pox it doth! Not long since did I view
  The man betake him to a common stew;
  And there (I wis), like no quaint-stomach'd man,
  Eats up his arms; and war's munition,
  His waving plume, falls in the broker's chest.
  Fie! that his ostrich stomach should disgest                    100
  His ostrich feather, eat up Venice lace!
  Thou[357] that didst fear to eat poor-johns a space,
  Lie close, ye slave, at beastly luxury!
  Melt and consume in pleasure's surquedry![358]
  But now, thou that didst march with Spanish pike before,
  Come with French pox out of that brothel door.
  The fleet's return'd. What news from Rodio?[359]
  "Hot service, by the Lord," cries Tubrio.
  Why dost thou halt? "Why, six times through each thigh
  Push'd with the pike of the hot enemy!                          110
  Hot service, hot, the Spaniard is a man;
  I say no more, and as a gentleman
  I served in his face. Farewell. Adieu."
  Welcome from Netherland, from steaming stew.
  Ass to thy crib, doff that huge lion's skin,
  Or else the owl will hoot and drive thee in.
  For shame, for shame! lewd-living Tubrio,
  Presume not troop among that gallant crew
  Of true heroic spirits; come, uncase,
  Show us the true form of Dametas'[360] face.                    120
  Hence, hence, ye slave! dissemble not thy state,
  But henceforth be a turncoat, runagate.
  O hold my sides! that I may break my spleen
  With laughter at the shadows I have seen!
    Yet I can bear with Curio's nimble feet,
  Saluting me with capers in the street,
  Although in open view and people's face,
  He fronts me with some spruce, neat, cinquepace;[361]
  Or Tullus, though, whene'er he me espies,
  Straight with loud mouth "A bandy, sir,"[362] he cries;         130
  Or Robrus, who, addict to nimble fence,
  Still greets me with stockado's[363] violence.
  These I do bear, because I too well know
  They are the same they seem in outward show.
  But all confusion sever from mine eye
  This Janian bifront, Hypocrisy.


     [347] _i.e._, all-_kenning_, all-knowing. Marston uses
     the word two or three times.

     [348] Fawning.

     [349] Bows.

     [350] A mirror of refinement, a gallant of Castilian breeding.
     But there is also a reference to Baldessar Castiglione, author of
     the celebrated treatise _Il Cortese_. So in Guilpin's
     _Skialeheia_, 1598, the name "Balthazer" is applied to a
     spruce courtier:--
         "Come to the court, and _Balthazer_ affords
          Fountains of holy and rose-water words.
          Hast thou need of him and wouldst find him kind?
          Nay, then, go by, the gentleman is blind." Sig. C. 4.

     [351] Lock of hair?

     [352] See note, vol. ii. p. 60.

     [353] Who was transformed into the hoopoe. Old ed. "Tyreus."

     [354] Old ed. "talke;" but the correction is made in the author's
     list of errata.

     [355] Falling bands, which lay upon the shoulders.

     [356] "Him"--omitted in old ed., but supplied in the author's
     list of errata.

     [357] _i.e._, you who feared a short while ago ("a space")
     that you would have to dine off stock-fish.

     [358] Wantonness.

     [359] "Is the reference to Essex's expedition to Cadiz in 1596?
     _Rodao_ is the Italian form of a Portuguese town in the
     province of Beira."--_Grosart._

     [360] The foolish shepherd in Sir Philip Sidney's _Arcadia_.

     [361] The name of a dance.

     [362] Tullus can talk of nothing but tennis.

     [363] A thrust in fencing.


                             SATIRE II.

                  _Quædam sunt, et non videntur._

  I, that even now lisp'd like an amorist,
  Am turn'd into a snaphance[364] satirist.
  O title, which my judgment doth adore!
  But I, dull-sprited fat Boeotian[365] boor,
  Do far off honour that censorian seat;
  But if I could in milk-white robes entreat
  Plebeians' favour, I would show to be
  _Tribunus plebis_, 'gainst the villany
  Of these same Proteans, whose hypocrisy
  Doth still abuse our fond credulity.                             10
  But since myself am not immaculate,
  But many spots my mind doth vitiate,
  I'll leave the white robe and the biting rhymes
  Unto our modern Satire's sharpest lines,
  Whose hungry fangs snarl at some secret sin,
  And in such pitchy clouds enwrappèd been
  His Sphinxian riddles, that old OEdipus
  Would be amazed, and take it in foul snuffs
  That such Cymmerian darkness should involve
  A quaint conceit that he could not resolve.                      20
  O darkness palpable! Egypt's black night!
  My wit is stricken blind, hath lost his sight;
  My shins are broke with groping for some sense,
  To know to what his words have reference.
  Certes, _sunt_ but _non videntur_ that I know;
  Reach me some poets' index that will show.
  _Imagines Deorum_, Book of Epithets,
  _Natalis Comes_,[366] thou I know recites,
  And makest anatomy of poesy;
  Help me to unmask the satire's secrecy;                          30
  Delphic Apollo, aid me to unrip
  These intricate deep oracles of wit--
  These dark enigmas, and strange riddling sense,
  Which pass my dullard brain's intelligence.
  Fie on my senseless pate! Now I can show
  Thou writest that which I nor thou dost know.
  Who would imagine that such squint-eyed sight
  Could strike the world's deformities so right?
  But take heed, Pallas, lest thou aim awry;
  Love nor yet Hate had e'er true-judging eye.                     40
  Who would once dream that that same elegy,
  That fair-framed piece of sweetest poesy,
  Which Muto put betwixt his mistress' paps
  (When he, quick-witted, call'd her Cruel Chaps,
  And told her there he might his dolors read
  Which she, O she! upon his heart had spread),
  Was penn'd by Roscio the tragedian?
  Yet Muto, like a good Vulcanian--
  An honest cuckold--calls the bastard, son,
  And brags of that which others for him done.                     50
  Satire, thou liest, for that same elegy
  Is Muto's own, his own dear poesy:
  Why, 'tis his own, and dear, for he did pay
  Ten crowns for it, as I heard Roscius say.--
  Who would imagine yonder sober man,
  That same devout meal-mouth'd precisian,
  That cries "Good brother," "Kind sister," makes a duck
  After the antique grace, can always pluck
  A sacred book out of his civil hose,
  And at th' op'ning and at our stomach's close,                   60
  Says with a turn'd-up eye a solemn grace
  Of half an hour; then with silken face
  Smiles on the holy crew, and then doth cry,
  "O manners! O times of impurity!"
  What that depaints[367] a church-reformed state,
  The which the female tongues magnificate,
  Because that Plato's odd opinion
  Of all things common hath strong motion
  In their weak minds;--who thinks that this good man
  Is a vile, sober, damned politician?                             70
  Not I, till with his bait of purity
  He bit me sore in deepest usury.
  No Jew, no Turk, would use a Christian
  So inhumanely as this Puritan.
  Diomedes' jades were not so bestial
  As this same seeming saint--vile cannibal!
  Take heed, O world! take heed advisedly
  Of these same damnèd anthropophagi.
  I had rather be within a harpy's claws
  Than trust myself in their devouring jaws,                       80
  Who all confusion to the world would bring
  Under the form of their new discipline.
  O I could say, Briareus' hundred hands
  Were not so ready to bring Jove in bands,
  As these to set endless contentious strife
  Betwixt Jehovah and his sacred wife!
    But see--who's yonder? True Humility,
  The perfect image of fair Courtesy;
  See, he doth deign to be in servitude
  Where he hath no promotion's livelihood!                         90
  Mark, he doth courtesy, and salutes a block,
  Will seem to wonder at a weathercock;
  Trenchmore[368] with apes, play music to an owl,
  Bless his sweet honour's running brasil[369] bowl;
  Cries "Bravely broke!" when that his lordship miss'd,
  And is of all the throngèd[370] scaffold hiss'd;
  O is not this a courteous-minded man?
  No fool, no; a damn'd Machiavelian;
  Holds candle to the devil for a while,
  That he the better may the world beguile,                       100
  That's fed with shows. He hopes, though some repine,
  When sun is set the lesser stars will shine;
  He is within a haughty malcontent,
  Though he do use such humble blandishment.
  But, bold-faced Satire, strain not over-high,
  But laugh and chuck at meaner gullery.
    In faith, yon is a well-faced gentleman;
  See how he paceth like a Cyprian!
  Fair amber tresses of the fairest hair
  That ere were wavèd by our London air;                          110
  Rich lacèd suit, all spruce, all neat, in truth.
  Ho, Lynceus! what's yonder brisk neat youth
  'Bout whom yon troop of gallants flocken so,
  And now together to Brown's Common go?
  Thou know'st, I am sure; for thou canst cast thine eye
  Through nine mud walls, or else old poets lie.
  "'Tis loose-legg'd Lais, that same common drab
  For whom good Tubrio took the mortal stab."[371]
  Ha, ha! Nay, then, I'll never rail at those
  That wear a codpis,[372] thereby to disclose                    120
  What sex they are, since strumpets breeches use,
  And all men's eyes save Lynceus can abuse.
  Nay, stead of shadow, lay the substance out,
  Or else, fair Briscus, I shall stand in doubt
  What sex thou art, since such hermaphrodites,
  Such Protean shadows so delude our sights.
    Look, look, with what a discontented grace
  Bruto the traveller doth sadly[373] pace
  'Long Westminster! O civil-seeming shade,
  Mark his sad colours!--how demurely clad!                       130
  Staidness itself, and Nestor's gravity,
  Are but the shade of his civility.
  And now he sighs: "O thou corrupted age,
  Which slight regard'st men of sound carriage!
  Virtue, knowledge, fly to heaven again;
  Deign not 'mong these ungrateful sots remain!
  Well, some tongues I know, some countries I have seen,
  And yet these oily snails respectless been
  Of my good parts." O worthless puffy slave!
  Didst thou to Venice go ought[374] else to have,                140
  But buy a lute and use a courtesan,[375]
  And there to live like a Cyllenian?[376]
  And now from thence what hither dost thou bring,
  But surphulings,[377] new paints, and poisoning,[378]
  Aretine's[379] pictures, some strange luxury,
  And new-found use of Venice venery?
  What art thou but black clothes? Sad Bruto, say,
  Art anything but only sad[380] array?
  Which I am sure is all thou brought'st from France,
  Save Naples pox and Frenchmen's dalliance;                      150
  From haughty Spain, what brought'st thou else beside
  But lofty looks and their Lucifrian pride?
  From Belgia, what but their deep bezeling,[381]
  Their boot-carouse[382] and their beer-buttering?
  Well, then, exclaim not on our age, good man,
  But hence, polluted Neapolitan.
    Now, Satire, cease to rub our gallèd skins,
  And to unmask the world's detested sins;
  Thou shalt as soon draw Nilus river dry
  As cleanse the world from foul impiety.                         160


     [364] A spring-lock to a gun; hence applied to anything that goes
     off sharply.

     [365] Old ed. "Boetian."

     [366] Old ed. "_Natales Comes_."--Noël Conti (1520-1580), a
     native of Milan, better known under his Latinised name, Natalis
     Comes, was the author of _Mythologiæ, sive explicationis
     Fabularum, libri decem_, first printed at Venice in 1551, and
     frequently reprinted. To some editions are appended _Deorum
     Imagines_ ... _M. Antonii Tritonii Vtinensis_. Many old
     treatises on mythology have the title _Imagines Deorum_.

     [367] We had the word "depaint" in vol. i., p. 90. It is as old
     as Chaucer.

     [368] Dance trenchmore--a lively rustic dance.

     [369] A sort of hard wood, used in dyeing to produce a red
     colour.--It is a very old word and is still in use.

     [370] Old ed. "thurnged."

     [371] It has been suggested, without the slightest shadow of
     foundation, that the allusion is to the death of Marlowe. Dr.
     Nicholson (Grosart's _Marston_, p. xlvi.) says:--"If Tubrio
     be Marlowe, then the hitherto unknown courtesan was the
     hermaphroditic 'Moll Cutpurse'" At the earliest computation Moll
     was born in 1584-5 (see Middleton, iv. 3); and Marlowe died in
     1593.--(In old ed. the line runs:--"For from good Tubrio looke
     the mortall stab." The correction is made in the author's list of
     errata.)

     [372] I have kept this spelling, as it was doubtless used
     intentionally. Nashe, in his droll abuse of Barnabe Barnes,
     writes:--"The first of them (which is Barnes) presently upon it,
     because he would be noted, getting him a strange pair of
     Babylonian breeches with a _codpisse_ as big as a Bolonian
     sausage," &c. (_Works_, ed. Grosart, iii. 162).

     [373] Cf. vol. i. p. 12, "Now as solemn as a traveller," and the
     note on that passage.

     [374] Old ed. "oft"--corrected in the author's list of errata.

     [375] Old ed. "Currezan."

     [376] Mercury was born on Cyllene, a mountain in Arcadia. Hence
     Marston uses the term, Cyllenian for a person of mercurial
     disposition.

     [377] Cosmetics.

     [378] Nashe in _The Unfortunate Traveller_ writes in a
     similar strain:--"Italy, the paradise of the earth and the
     epicure's heaven, how doth it form our young master?... From
     thence he brings the art of atheism, the art of epicurising, the
     art of whoring." Ascham and others make similar observations.

     [379] Illustrations (after paintings of Giulio Romano) of the
     positions in venery. Aretine wrote verses to accompany the
     designs.

     [380] Old ed. "say"--corrected in the author's list of errata.

     [381] Tippling.

     [382] Dr. Grosart quotes from Hall's Satires, vi. i. 81-2:--
         "When erst our dry-soul'd sires so lavish were
          To charge whole _bootsful_ to their friends' welfare."


                            SATIRE III.

                   _Quædam et sunt, et videntur._

  Now, grim Reproof, swell in my rough-hued rhyme,
  That thou mayst vex the guilty of our time.
  Yon is a youth whom how can I o'er-slip,
  Since he so jump doth in my meshes hit?
  He hath been longer in preparing him
  Than Terence wench; and now behold he's seen.
  Now, after two years' fast and earnest prayer
  The fashion change not (lest he should despair
  Of ever hoarding up more fair gay clothes),
  Behold at length in London street he shows.                      10
  His ruff did eat more time in neatest setting
  Than Woodstock's[383] work in painful perfecting;
  It hath more doubles far than Ajax' shield
  When he 'gainst Troy did furious battle wield.
  Nay, he doth wear an emblem 'bout his neck;
  For under that fair ruff so sprucely set,
  Appears a fall, a falling-band forsooth.
  O dapper, rare, complete, sweet nitty[384] youth!
  Jesu Maria! How his clothes appear
  Cross'd and recross'd with lace, sure for some fear              20
  Lest that some spirit with a tippet mace[385]
  Should with a ghastly show affright his face.
  His hat, himself, small crown and huge great brim,
  Fair outward show, and little wit within.
  And all the band with feathers he doth fill,
  Which is a sign of a fantastic still.
  Why, so[386] he is, his clothes do sympathise
  And with his inward spirit humorise,
  As sure as (some do tell me) evermore
  A goat doth stand before a brothel door.                         30
  His clothes perfumed, his fusty mouth is aired,
  His chin new swept, his very cheeks are glaired.[387]
    But ho! what Ganymede is that doth grace
  The gallant's heels? One who for two days' space
  Is closely hired. Now who dares not call
  This Æsop's crow--fond, mad, fantastical?
  An open ass, that is not yet so wise
  As his derided fondness to disguise.
  Why, thou art Bedlam mad, stark lunatic,
  And glori'st to be counted a fantastic;                          40
  Thou neither art, nor yet will seem to be,
  Heir to some virtuous praisèd quality.
  O frantic man! that thinks all villany
  The complete honours of nobility!
  When some damn'd vice, some strange misshapen suit,
  Make youths esteem themselves in high repute.
  O age! in which our gallants boast to be
  Slaves unto riot and rude luxury!
  Nay, when they blush, and think an honest act
  Doth their supposèd virtues maculate!                            50
  Bedlam, Frenzy, Madness, Lunacy,
  I challenge all your moody empery
  Once to produce a more distracted man
  Than is inamorato Lucian.
  For when my ears received a fearful sound
  That he was sick, I went, and there I found
  Him laid of love, and newly brought to bed
  Of monstrous folly and a frantic head.
  His chamber hang'd about with elegies,
  With sad complaints of his love's miseries;                      60
  His windows strew'd with sonnets, and the glass
  Drawn full of love-knots. I approach'd the ass,
  And straight he weeps, and sighs some sonnet out
  To his fair love! And then he goes about
  For to perfume her rare perfection
  With some sweet-smelling pink epitheton;
  Then with a melting look he writhes his head,
  And straight in passion riseth in his bed;
  And having kiss'd his hand, stroke up his hair,
  Made a French conge, cries, "O cruel fear!"                      70
  To the antic bedpost. I laugh'd amain,
  That down my cheeks the mirthful drops did rain.
  Well, he's no Janus, but substantial,
  In show and essence a good natural;
  When as thou hear'st me ask spruce Duceus
  From whence he comes; and he straight answers us,
  From Lady Lilla; and is going straight
  To the Countess of (----), for she doth wait
  His coming, and will surely send her coach,
  Unless he make the speedier approach:                            80
  Art not thou ready for to break thy spleen
  At laughing at the fondness thou hast seen
  In this vain-glorious fool, when thou dost know
  He never durst unto these ladies show
  His pippin face? Well, he's no accident,
  But real, real, shameless, impudent;
  And yet he boasts, and wonders that each man
  Can call him by his name, sweet Ducean;
  And is right proud that thus his name is known.
  Ay, Duceus, ay, thy name is too far blown:                       90
  The world too much, thyself too little know'st,
  Thy private self. Why, then, should Duceus boast?
  But, humble Satire, wilt thou deign display
  These open nags, which purblind eyes bewray?
  Come, come, and snarl more dark at secret sin,
  Which in such labyrinths enwrappèd bin,
  That, Ariadne, I must crave thy aid
  To help me find where this foul monster's laid;
  Then will I drive the Minotaur from us,
  And seem to be a second Theseus.                                100


     [383] The maze at Woodstock.

     [384] I suppose that "nitty" = _spruce_ (_Lat._
     nitidus). The usual meaning of "nitty" is--_lousy_.

     [385] Carried by the sheriff's officer when he arrested a man for
     debt.

     [386] In the original, the couplet "Why, so ... humorise,"
     follows l. 36. Mr. Gosse pointed out this error (Grosart's
     _Marston_, p. li.); he proposes to put the couplet about the
     goat lower down.

     [387] Anointed with the white of an egg.--Old eds. "glazed."


                             SATIRE IV.

                             _Reactio._

  Now doth Rhamnusia Adrastian,
  Daughter of Night, and of the Ocean,
  Provoke my pen. What cold Saturnian
  Can hold, and hear such vile detraction?
  Ye pines of Ida, shake your fair-grown height,
  For Jove at first dash will with thunder fight;
  Ye cedars, bend, 'fore lightning you dismay;
  Ye lions tremble, for an ass doth bray.
  Who cannot rail?--what dog but dare to bark
  'Gainst Phoebe's brightness in the silent dark?                  10
  What stinking scavenger (if so he will,
  Though streets be fair) but may right easily fill
  His dungy tumbrel? Sweep, pare, wash, make clean,
  Yet from your fairness he some dirt can glean.
  The windy-colic striv'd to have some vent,
  And now 'tis flown, and now his rage is spent.
  So have I seen the fuming waves to fret,
  And in the end naught but white foam beget;
  So have I seen the sullen clouds to cry,
  And weep for anger that the earth was dry,                       20
  After their spite that all the hail-shot drops
  Could never pierce the crystal water tops,
  And never yet could work her more disgrace
  But only bubble quiet Thetis' face
  Vain envious detractor from the good,
  What cynic spirit rageth in thy blood?
  Cannot a poor mistaken title 'scape,
  But thou must that into thy tumbrel scrape?
  Cannot some lewd immodest beastliness
  Lurk and lie hid in just forgetfulness,                          30
  But Grillus'[388] subtile-smelling swinish snout
  Must scent and grunt, and needs will find it out?
  Come, dance, ye stumbling satyrs by his side,
  If he list once the Sion Muse deride;
  Ye Granta's white nymphs, come, and with you bring
  Some sillabub, whilst he doth sweetly sing
  'Gainst Peter's tears[389] and Mary's moving moan,
  And like a fierce enragèd boar doth foam
  At sacred sonnets. O daring hardiment!
  At Bartas' sweet _Semains_[390] rail impudent;                   40
  At Hopkins, Sternhold, and the Scottish King,[391]
  At all translators that do strive to bring
  That stranger language to our vulgar tongue,
  Spit in thy poison their fair acts among;
  Ding[392] them all down from fair Jerusalem,
  And mew them up in thy deserved Bedlam.
    Shall Paynims honour their vile falsèd gods
  With sprightly wits, and shall not we by odds
  Far, far more strive with wit's best quintessence
  To adore the sacred ever-living essence?                         50
  Hath not strong reason moved the legists' mind,
  To say the fairest of all nature's kind
  The prince by his prerogative may claim?
  Why may not then our souls, without thy blame
  (Which is the best thing that our God did frame),
  Devote the best part to his sacred name,
  And with due reverence and devotion,
  Honour his name with our invention?
  No, poesy not fit for such an action,
  It is defiled with superstition:                                 60
  It honoured Baal, therefore pollute, pollute--
  Unfit for such a sacred institute.
  So have I heard a heretic maintain
  The church unholy, where Jehovah's name
  Is now adored, because he surely knows
  Sometimes[393] it was defiled with Popish shows;
  The bells profane, and not to be endured,
  Because to Popish rites they were inured.
  Pure madness! Peace, cease to be insolent,
  And be not outward sober, inly impudent.                         70
  Fie, inconsiderate! it grieveth me
  An academic should so senseless be.
  Fond censurer! why should those mirrors seem
  So vile to thee, which better judgments deem
  Exquisite then, and in our polish'd times
  May run for senseful tolerable lines?
  What, not _mediocria firma_ from thy spite?
  But must thy envious hungry fangs needs light
  On _Magistrates' Mirror_?[394] Must thou needs detract
  And strive to work his ancient honour's wrack?                   80
  What, shall not Rosamond[395] or Gaveston
  Ope their sweet lips without detraction?
  But must our modern critic's envious eye
  Seem thus to quote some gross deformity,
  Where art, not error, shineth in their style,
  But error, and no art, doth thee beguile?
  For tell me, critic, is not fiction
  The soul of poesy's invention?
  Is't not the form, the spirit, and the essence,
  The life, and the essential difference,                          90
  Which _omni_, _semper_, _soli_, doth agree
  To heavenly descended poesy?
  Thy wit God comfort, mad chirurgion.
  What, make so dangerous an incision?--
  At first dash whip away the instrument
  Of poet's procreation! Fie, ignorant!
  When as the soul and vital blood doth rest,
  And hath in fiction only interest,
  What, Satire, suck the soul from poesy,
  And leave him spriteless! O impiety!                            100
  Would ever any erudite pedant[396]
  Seem in his artless lines so insolent?
  But thus it is when petty Priscians
  Will needs step up to be censorians.
  When once they can in true scann'd verses frame
  A brave encomium of good Virtue's name;
  Why, thus it is, when mimic apes will strive
  With iron wedge the trunks of oaks to rive.
    But see, his spirit of detraction
  Must nibble at a glorious action.                               110
  _Euge!_ some gallant spirit, some resolvèd blood,
  Will hazard all to work his country's good,
  And to enrich his soul and raise his name,
  Will boldly sail unto the rich Guiane:
  What then? Must straight some shameless satirist,[397]
  With odious and opprobrious terms insist
  To blast so high resolv'd intention
  With a malignant vile detraction?
  So have I seen a cur dog in the street
  Piss 'gainst the fairest posts he still could meet;             120
  So have I seen the March wind strive to fade
  The fairest hue that art or nature made:
  So envy still doth bark at clearest shine,
  And strives to stain heroic acts divine.
  Well, I have cast thy water, and I see
  Th' art fall'n to wit's extremest poverty,
  Sure in consumption of the spritely part.
  Go, use some cordial for to cheer thy heart,
  Or else I fear that I one day shall see
  Thee fall into some dangerous lethargy.                         130
    But come, fond braggart, crown thy brows with bay,
  Intrance thyself in thy sweet ecstasy;
  Come, manumit thy plumy pinion,
  And scour the sword of elvish champion;
  Or else vouchsafe to breathe in wax-bound quill,
  And deign our longing ears with music fill;
  Or let us see thee some such stanzas frame,
  That thou mayst raise thy vile inglorious name.
  Summon the Nymphs and Dryades to bring
  Some rare invention, whilst thou dost sing                      140
  So sweet that thou mayst shoulder from above
  The eagle from the stairs of friendly Jove,[398]
  And lead sad Pluto captive with thy song,
  Gracing thyself, that art obscured so long.
  Come, somewhat say (but hang me when 'tis done)
  Worthy of brass and hoary marble stone;
  Speak, ye attentive swains, that heard him never,
  Will not his pastorals[399] endure for ever?
  Speak, ye that never heard him ought but rail,
  Do not his poems bear a glorious sail?                          150
  Hath not he strongly justled from above
  The eagle from the stairs of friendly Jove?
  May be, may be; tut! 'tis his modesty;
  He could, if that he would: nay, would, if could, I see.
  Who cannot rail, and with a blasting breath
  Scorch even the whitest lilies of the earth?
  Who cannot stumble in a stuttering style,
  And shallow heads with seeming shades beguile?
  Cease, cease, at length to be malevolent
  To fairest blooms of virtues eminent;                           160
  Strive not to soil the freshest hues on earth
  With thy malicious and upbraiding breath.
  Envy, let pines of Ida rest alone,
  For they will grow spite of thy thunder-stone;
  Strive not to nibble in their swelling grain
  With toothless gums of thy detracting brain;
  Eat not thy dam, but laugh and sport with me
  At strangers' follies with a merry glee.
  Let's not malign our kin. Then, satirist,
  I do salute thee with an open fist.[400]                        170


     [388] The allusion in the following lines is to Hall's Satires,
     i. 8. See _Introduction_, vol. i.--Grillus was one of
     Ulysses' companions who were turned into swine. When the others
     rejoiced at resuming their human shape, Grillus preferred to
     remain a swine.

     [389] An allusion to Southwell's poems _Saint Peter's
     Complaint_ and _The Virgin Mary to Christ on the Cross_.

     [390] The allusion is to Sylvester's once famous translations of
     Du Bartas.

     [391] James in his _Poetical Exercises_ (1591) published a
     translation of Du Bartas' poem _The Furies_; but there seems
     also to be a reference to the metrical translation of the psalms
     (first published in 1631), on which James was known to be
     engaged.

     [392] Dash.

     [393] Often used for _sometime_.

     [394] In Hall's Satires, i. 5, the _Mirror of Magistrates_ is
     ridiculed.

     [395] The allusion is to Daniel's _Complaint of Rosamond_, 1592,
     and to Michael Drayton's _Complaint of Gaveston_, 1593. I cannot
     discover any abuse of Daniel or Drayton in Hall's Satires. I have
     elsewhere suggested (Marlowe, iii. 243) that Marston is here
     glancing at Sir John Davies' forty-fifth epigram, in which a
     conceit from Daniel's _Rosamond_ is ridiculed.

     [396] A sneer at Hall, who left Cambridge (soon to return),
     before completing his course, to take temporary work as a
     schoolmaster, as he relates in _Some Specialities of the Life of
     Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich_ (Works, ed. Wynter, 1. xxiv).

     [397] The satirist is Hall, who wrote in the third satire of Book
     iv. of _Virgidem_:-- "Ventrous Fortunio his farm hath sold And
     gads to _Guiane_ land to fish for gold."

     [398] Marston is ridiculing Hall's _Defiance to Envy_, prefixed
     to _Virgidem_.:--
         "Or would we loose her plumy pinion,
          Manacled long with bonds of modest fear,
          Soon might she have those kestrels proud outgone
          Whose flighty wings are dew'd with weeter [_sic_] air;
               And hopen now to _shoulder from above
               The eagle from the stairs of friendly Jove_.

         "Or list she rather in late triumph rear
          Eternal trophies to some conqueror
          Whose dead deserts slept in his sepulchre,
          And never saw nor life nor light before,
               To lead sad Pluto captive with my song
               To grace the triumphs he obscured so long, &c."

     [399] It is not improbable that Hall published an early volume of
     pastorals which is now unknown. See Corser's _Collectanea_, vii.
     134. In _Virgidem_. vi. 1. ll. 175-184 ("Shall the controller of
     proud Nemesis, &c."), Hall replies to Marston's raillery.

     [400] Edward Guilpin in his sixth Satire (_Skialetheia_, 1598,
     sig. E. V.) alludes to Marston's _Reactio_:--
         "The double-volum'd satire praised is
          And liked of divers for his rods in piss,
          Yet other some who would her credit crack,
          Have clapp'd Reactio's action on her back."

     The expression "rods in piss" is used in reference to Sat. i. l.
     44. of the _Scourge of Villainy_. "Double-volum'd satire" seems
     to refer to Hall's two collections of Satires; but the passage is
     obscure.


                             SATIRE V.

                    _Parva magna, magna nulla._

  Ambitious Gorgons, wide-mouth'd Lamians,[401]
  Shape-changing Proteans, damn'd Briarians,
  Is Minos dead, is Rhadamanth asleep,
  That ye thus dare unto Jove's palace creep?
  What, hath Rhamnusia spent her knotted whip,
  That ye dare strive on Hebe's cup to sip?
  Yet know Apollo's quiver is not spent,
  But can abate your daring hardiment.
  Python is slain, yet his accursèd race
  Dare look divine Astrea in the face;                             10
  Chaos return, and with confusion
  Involve the world with strange disunion;
  For Pluto sits in that adorèd chair
  Which doth belong unto Minerva's heir.
  O hecatombe! O catastrophe![402]
  From Midas' pomp to Irus' beggary!
  Prometheus, who celestial fire
  Did steal from heaven, therewith to inspire
  Our earthly bodies with a senseful mind,
  Whereby we might the depth of nature find,                       20
  Is ding'd[403] to hell, and vulture eats his heart,
  Which did such deep philosophy impart
  To mortal men; when thieving Mercury,
  That even in his new-born infancy
  Stole fair Apollo's quiver and Jove's mace,
  And would have filch'd the lightning from his place,
  But that he fear'd he should have burnt his wing
  And sing'd his downy feathers' new-come spring;
  He that in ghastly shade of night doth lead
  Our souls unto the empire of the dead;                           30
  When he that better doth deserve a rope
  Is a fair planet in our horoscope,
  And now hath Caduceus in his hand,
  Of life and death that hath the sole command.
  Thus petty thefts are paid and soundly whipt,
  But greater crimes are slightly overslipt;
  Nay, he's a god that can do villany
  With a good grace and glib facility.
    The harmless hunter, with a ventrous eye,
  When unawares he did Diana spy                                   40
  Nak'd in the fountain, he became straightway
  Unto his greedy hounds a wishèd prey,
  His own delights taking away his breath,
  And all ungrateful forced his fatal death
  (And ever since hounds eat their masters clean,
  For so Diana curst them in the stream).
  When strong-back'd Hercules, in one poor night,
  With great, great ease, and wond[e]rous delight,
  In strength of lust and Venus' surquedry,
  Robb'd fifty wenches of virginity--                              50
  Far more than lusty Laurence[404]--yet, poor soul,
  He with Actæon drinks of Nemis'[405] bowl:
  When Hercules' lewd act is registered,
  And for his fruitful labour deified,
  And had a place in heaven him assigned,
  When he the world unto the world resigned.
  Thus little scapes are deeply punishèd,
  But mighty villains are for gods adored.
  Jove brought his sister to a nuptial bed,
  And hath an Hebe and a Ganymede,                                 60
  A Leda, and a thousand more beside
  His chaste Alcmena and his sister-bride,
  Who 'fore his face was odiously defil'd,
  And by Ixion grossly got with child:
  This thunderer, that right vertuously
  Thrust forth his father from his empery,
  Is now the great monarcho of the earth,
  Whose awful nod, whose all-commanding breath,
  Shakes Europe's ground-work; and his title makes[406]
  As dread a noise as when a cannon shakes                         70
  The subtile air. Thus hell-bred villany
  Is still rewarded with high dignity,
  When Sisyphus, that did but once reveal
  That this incestuous villain had to deal
  In isle Phliunte with Ægina fair,[407]
  Is damn'd to hell, in endless black despair
  Ever to rear his tumbling stone upright
  Upon the steepy mountain's lofty height;
  His stone will never now get greenish moss,
  Since he hath thus incurred so great a loss                      80
  As Jove's high favour. But it needs must be
  Whilst Jove doth rule and sway the empery.
  And poor Astrea's fled into an isle,
  And lives a poor and banishèd exile,
  And there penn'd up, sighs in her sad lament,
  Wearing away in pining languishment.
  If that Silenus' ass do chance to bray,
  And so the satyrs' lewdness doth bewray,
  Let him for ever be a sacrifice;
  Prick, spur, beat, load, for ever tyrannise                      90
  Over the fool. But let some Cerberus
  Keep back the wife of sweet-tongued Orpheus,
  Gnato[408] applauds the hound. Let that same child
  Of night and sleep (which hath the world defiled
  With odious railing) bark 'gainst all the work
  Of all the gods, and find some error lurk
  In all the graces; let his laver[409] lip
  Speak in reproach of Nature's workmanship;
  Let him upbraid fair Venus, if he list,
  For her short heel; let him with rage insist                    100
  To snarl at Vulcan's man, because he was
  Not made with windows of transparent glass,
  That all might see the passions of his mind;
  Let his all-blasting tongue great errors find
  In Pallas' house, because if next should burn,
  It could not from the sudden peril turn;
  Let him upbraid great Jove with luxury,
  Condemn the heaven's queen of jealousy:
  Yet this same Stygian Momus must be praised,
  And to some godhead at the least be raised.                     110
  But if poor Orpheus sing melodiously,
  And strive with music's sweetest symphony
  To praise the gods, and unadvisedly
  Do but o'er-slip one drunken deity,
  Forthwith the bouzing Bacchus out doth send
  His furious Bacchides, to be revenged;
  And straight they tear the sweet musician,
  And leave him to the dogs' division.
  Hebrus, bear witness of their cruelty,
  For thou didst view poor Orpheus' tragedy.                      120
  Thus slight neglects are deepest villany,
  But blasting mouths deserve a deity.
  Since Gallus slept, when he was set to watch
  Lest Sol or Vulcan should Mavortius catch
  In using Venus; since the boy did nap,
  Whereby bright Phoebus did great Mars intrap,
  Poor Gallus now (whilom to Mars so dear)
  Is turnèd to a crowing chaunticlere;
  And ever since, 'fore that the sun doth shine
  (Lest Phoebus should with his all-piercing eyne                 130
  Descry some Vulcan), he doth crow full shrill,
  That all the air with echoes he doth fill;
  Whilst Mars, though all the gods do see his sin,
  And know in what lewd vice he liveth in,
  Yet is adored still, and magnified,
  And with all honours duly worshipped.
  _Euge!_ Small faults to mountains straight are raised;
  Slight scapes are whipt, but damnèd deeds are praised.
    Fie, fie! I am deceived all this while,
  A mist of errors doth my sense beguile;                         140
  I have been long of all my wits bereaven;
  Heaven for hell taking, taking hell for heaven;
  Virtue for vice, and vice for virtue still;
  Sour for sweet, and good for passing ill.
  If not, would vice and odious villany
  Be still rewarded with high dignity?
  Would damned Jovians be of all men praised,
  And with high honours unto heaven raised?
    'Tis so, 'tis so; riot and luxury
  Are virtuous, meritorious chastity:                             150
  That which I thought to be damn'd hell-born pride,
  Is humble modesty, and nought beside;
  That which I deemèd Bacchus' surquedry,
  Is grave and staid, civil sobriety.
  O then, thrice holy age, thrice sacred men,
  'Mong whom no vice a satire can discern,
  Since lust is turnèd into chastity,
  And riot unto sad sobriety,
  Nothing but goodness reigneth in our age,
  And virtues all are join'd in marriage!                         160
  Here is no dwelling for impiety,
  No habitation for base villany;
  Here are no subject for reproof's sharp vein;
  Then hence, rude satire, make away amain,
  And seek a seat where more impurity
  Doth lie and lurk in still security!
    Now doth my satire stagger in a doubt,
  Whether to cease or else to write it out.
  The subject is too sharp for my dull quill;
  Some son of Maia, show thy riper skill;                         170
  For I'll go turn my tub against the sun,
  And wistly mark how higher planets run,
  Contemplating their hidden motion.
  Then on some Latmos with Endymion,
  I'll slumber out my time in discontent,
  And never wake to be malevolent,
  A beadle to the world's impurity.
  But ever sleep in still security.
    If this displease the world's wrong-judging sight,
  It glads my soul, and in some better sprite                     180
  I'll write again. But if that this do please,
  Hence, hence, satiric Muse, take endless ease,
  Hush now, ye band-dogs, bark no more at me,
  But let me slide away in secrecy.

                                                       EPICTETUS.[410]


     [401] In Topsel's _Hist. of Four-footed Beasts_ (ed. 1658, pp.
     352-5) there is an interesting chapter "of the Lamia."

     [402] "_Huc usque Xylinum._"--Marginal note in old ed. The
     meaning is "Bombast--balderdash--up to this point." Marston lets
     the reader know that the high-sounding lines at the beginning of
     this satire are to be taken in jest. See more on p. 342. (_Lat._
     xylinum, Gr. xulinon = cotton, bombast.)

     [403] Dashed.

     [404] Dyce, in a note on a passage of _The Captain_, iv. 3
     (_Beaumont and Fletcher_, iii. 295), quotes from _A Brown Dozen
     of Drunkards_, 1648, sig. C:--"This late Lusty Lawrence, that
     Lancashire Lad, who had seventeen bastards in one year, if we
     believe his Ballad," &c.

     [405] Seemingly a contraction (_metri causa_) of "Nemesis."

     [406] "_Rex hominumque deorumque._"--Marginal note in old ed.

     [407] One legend makes Asopus, father of Aegina, to have been the
     river that watered the Phliasian territory in Argolis. See
     Heyne's note on Apollodorus' _Bibl._, iii. 12. 5.

     [408] Gnatho,--used by Plautus and Terence as a proper name for a
     parasite (Gr. gnathon).

     [409] "Laver lip" = hanging lip. Cf. Hall's Satires, ii. 2:--"A
     _lave-ear'd_ ass with gold may trappèd be;" and again in iv.
     1--"His ears hang _laving_ like a new-lugg'd swine."

     [410] I fail to understand why Epictetus' name should stand here.
     The conclusion of this satire is more in 'Ercles' vein than in
     Epictetus'.--At the end of old ed. is a list of "Faults escaped."




                      THE SCOURGE OF VILLAINY.




        _The Scovrge of Villanie. Three bookes of Satyres._
                             _Persevs._
     _v v v Nec scompros_ [_sic_] _metuentia carmina nec thus._

  _At London, Printed by I. R. and are to be sold by Iohn Buzbie, in
     Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Crane, 1598._ 8vo.

  _The Scovrge of Villanie. Corrected, with the addition of newe
     Satyres. Three Bookes of Satyres._

                             _Persivs._
          _v v v Nec scombros metuentia carmina nec thus._

  _At London, Printed by I. R. Anno Dom. 1599._ 8vo.

  The letters "_v v v_" indicate that the dactyl at the beginning of
  the line has been dropped.




         _To_[411] _his most esteemed and best beloved Self
                          dat dedicatque._


     [411] This dedication is not found in ed. 1598.




               _To_ Detraction _I present my_ Poesy.

  Foul canker of fair virtuous action,
  Vile blaster of the freshest blooms on earth,
  Envy's abhorrèd child, Detraction,
  I here expose, to thy all-tainting breath,
     The issue of my brain: snarl, rail, bark, bite,
     Know that my spirit scorns Detraction's spite.

  Know that the Genius, which attendeth on
  And guides my powers intellectual,
  Holds in all vile repute Detraction;
  My soul an essence metaphysical,                                 10
     That in the basest sort scorns critics' rage
     Because he knows his sacred parentage.

  My spirit is not puft[412] up with fat fume
  Of slimy ale, nor Bacchus' heating grape.
  My mind disdains the dungy muddy scum
  Of abject thoughts and Envy's raging hate.
     True judgment slight regards Opinion,
     A spritely wit disdains Detraction.

  A partial praise shall never elevate
  My settled censure of my own esteem;                             20
  A canker'd verdict of malignant hate
  Shall ne'er provoke me worse myself to deem.
     Spite of despite and rancour's villainy,
     I am myself, so is my poesy.


     [412] Ed. 1598 "huft."


                  _In Lectores prorsus indignos._

  Fie, Satire, fie! shall each mechanic slave,
  Each dunghill peasant, free perusal have
  Of thy well-labour'd lines?--each[413] satin suit,
  Each quaint fashion-monger, whose sole repute
  Rests in his trim gay clothes, lie slavering,
  Tainting thy lines with his lewd censuring?
  Shall each odd puisne[414] of the lawyer's inn,
  Each barmy-froth, that last day did begin
  To read his little, or his ne'er a whit,
  Or shall some greater ancient, of less wit                       10
  (That never turn'd but brown tobacco leaves,
  Whose senses some damn'd occupant[415] bereaves),
  Lie gnawing on thy vacant time's expense,
  Tearing thy rhymes, quite altering the sense?
  Or shall perfum'd Castilio censure thee,
  Shall he o'erview thy sharp-fang'd poesy
  (Who ne'er read further than his mistress' lips),
  Ne'er practised ought but some spruce cap'ring skips,
  Ne'er in his life did other language use,
  But "Sweet lady, fair mistress, kind heart, dear cuz"--
  Shall this phantasma, this Coloss peruse,                        21
  And blast, with stinking breath, my budding muse?
  Fie! wilt thou make thy wit a courtezan
  For every broken handcraft's artisan?
  Shall brainless cittern-heads,[416] each jobbernoul,[417]
  Pocket the very genius of thy soul?
    Ay, Phylo, ay, I'll keep an open hall,
  A common and a sumptuous festival;
  Welcome all eyes, all ears, all tongues to me,
  Gnaw peasants on my scraps of poesy;                             30
  Castilios, Cyprians, court-boys, Spanish blocks,[418]
  Ribanded[419] ears, Granado netherstocks,[420]
  Fiddlers, scriveners, pedlars, tinkering knaves,
  Base blue-coats,[421] tapsters, broad-cloth-minded slaves--
  Welcome, i'faith; but may you ne'er depart
  Till I have made your gallèd hides to smart.
  Your gallèd hides? avaunt, base muddy scum,
  Think you a satire's dreadful sounding drum
  Will brace itself, and deign to terrify
  Such abject peasants' basest roguery?                            40
  No, no, pass on, ye vain fantastic troop
  Of puffy youths; know I do scorn to stoop
  To rip your lives. Then hence, lewd nags, away,
  Go read each post,[422] view what is play'd to-day,
  Then to Priapus' gardens.[423] You, Castilio,
  I pray thee let my lines in freedom go,
  Let me alone, the madams call for thee,
  Longing to laugh at thy wit's poverty.
  Sirra livery cloak, you lazy slipper-slave,
  Thou fawning drudge, what, wouldst thou satires have?            50
  Base mind, away, thy master calls, be gone.
  Sweet Gnato, let my poesy alone:
  Go buy some ballad of the Fairy King,
  And of the beggar wench[424] some roguy thing,
  Which thou mayst chant unto the chamber-maid
  To some vile tune, when that thy master's laid.
    But will you needs stay? am I forced to bear
  The blasting breath of each lewd censurer?
  Must naught but clothes, and images of men,
  But spriteless trunks, be judges of thy pen?                     60
  Nay then, come all; I prostitute my muse,
  For all the swarms of idiots to abuse.
  Read all, view all; even with my full consent,
  So you will know that which I never meant;
  So you will ne'er conceive, and yet dispraise
  That which you ne'er conceived, and laughter raise
  Where I but strive in honest seriousness
  To scourge some soul-polluting beastliness.
  So you will rail, and find huge errors lurk
  In every corner of my cynic work.                                70
  Proface,[425] read on, for your extrem'st dislikes
  Will add a pinion to my praise's flights.
  O how I bristle up my plumes of pride,
  O how I think my satire's dignifi'd,
  When I once hear some quaint Castilio,
  Some supple-mouth'd slave, some lewd Tubrio,
  Some spruce pedant, or some span-new-come fry
  Of inns-o'-court, striving to vilify
  My dark reproofs! Then do but rail at me,
  No greater honour craves my poesy.                               80

  1. But, ye diviner wits, celestial souls,
     Whose free-born minds no kennel-thought controlls,
  Ye sacred spirits, Maia's eldest sons--

  2. Ye substance of the shadows of our age,
     In whom all graces link in marriage,
  To you how cheerfully my poem runs!

  3. True-judging eyes, quick-sighted censurers,
     Heaven's best beauties, wisdom's treasurers,
  O how my love embraceth your great worth!

  4. Ye idols of my soul, ye blessed spirits,                      90
     How shall I give true honour to your merits,
  Which I can better think than here paint forth!

  You sacred spirits, Maia's eldest sons,
  To you how cheerfully my poem runs!
  O how my love embraceth your great worth,
  Which I can better think than here paint forth!
                                    O rare!


     [413] Ed. 1598 "shal each."

     [414] A newly-entered student at the inns-of-court. Cf.
     Middleton, iv. 37:--"Now I, not intending to understand her, but
     like a puny at the inns of Venery, &c."

     [415] See Dyce's _Shakesp. Gloss._, _s._ OCCUPY.

     [416] In allusion to the grotesque figures carved on the tops of
     citterns. See Nares' _Glossary_.

     [417] "A jobbernoll. Teste de boeuf, michon, grosse
     teste."--_Cotgrave._

     [418] Spanish hats, fashionable at this time. "From Spain what
     bringeth our traveller? A skull-crown'd hat of the fashion of an
     old deep porrenger," &c.--Nashe's _Unfortunate Traveller_.

     [419] See note, vol. ii. p. 391.

     [420] So in the _Debate between Pride and Lowliness_:--"The
     nether-stocks of pure Granada silk." See Fairholt's _History of
     Costume_, 1860, p. 211.

     [421] Serving-men.

     [422] It was the custom to paste on a pillar near the theatre the
     title of the play that was to be acted.

     [423] In the suburbs--particularly near the Curtain Theatre--were
     many gardens, "either paled or walled round very high, with their
     arbours and bowers" (Stubbes), to which libertines resorted. See
     Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps' chapter on "The Theatre and Curtain" in
     _Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare_.

     [424] An allusion to a jest (common in the fugitive poetry of the
     time) about a beggar-wench, with a child at her back, who refused
     the advances of a knight (on the ground that the child would be
     injured in the amorous encounter), unless he would allow the
     child to be strapped to his own back.

     [425] "Proface"--an exclamation of welcome from the host to his
     guests at a feast. See Nares' _Glossary_.


              _To those that seem judicial Perusers._

Know, I hate to affect too much obscurity and harshness, because they
profit no sense. To note vices, so that no man can understand them, is
as fond as the French execution in picture. Yet there are some (too
many) that think nothing good that is so courteous as to come within
their reach. Terming all satires bastard which are not palpable dark,
and so rough writ that the hearing of them read would set a man's
teeth on edge; for whose unseasoned palate I wrote the first Satire,
in some places too obscure, in all places misliking me. Yet when by
some scurvy chance it shall come into the late perfumed fist of
judicial Torquatus[426] (that, like some rotten stick in a troubled
water, hath got a great deal of barmy[427] froth to stick to his
sides), I know he will vouchsafe it some of his new-minted epithets
(as _real_, _intrinsicate_, _Delphic_), when in my conscience he
understands not the least part of it. But from thence proceeds his
judgment. Persius is crabby, because ancient, and his jerks (being
particularly given to private customs of his time) dusky. Juvenal
(upon the like occasion) seems to our judgment gloomy. Yet both of
them go a good seemly pace, not stumbling, shuffling. Chaucer is hard
even to our understandings: who knows not the reason? how much more
those old satires which express themselves in terms that breathed not
long even in their days. But had we then lived, the understanding of
them had been nothing hard. I will not deny there is a seemly decorum
to be observed, and a peculiar kind of speech for a satire's lips,
which I can willinglier conceive than dare to prescribe; yet let me
have the substance rough, not the shadow. I cannot, nay, I will not
delude your sight with mists; yet I dare defend my plainness against
the verjuice-face of the crabbed'st satirist that ever stuttered. He
that thinks worse of my rhymes than myself, I scorn him, for he
cannot: he that thinks better, is a fool. So favour me, Good Opinion,
as I am far from being a Suffenus.[428] If thou perusest me with an
unpartial eye, read on: if otherwise, know I neither value thee nor
thy censure.

                                                        W. KINSAYDER.


     [426] A hit at Ben Jonson.--See Introduction to vol. i.

     [427] Ridiculed by Ben Jonson in the _Poetaster_.

     [428] The poet ridiculed by Catullus.




                                THE

                        SCOURGE OF VILLAINY.

                     PROEMIUM IN LIBRUM PRIMUM.

  I bear the scourge of just Rhamnusia,
  Lashing the lewdness of Britannia.
  Let others sing as their good genius moves,
  Of deep designs, or else of clipping loves:
  Fair fall them all, that with wit's industry
  Do clothe good subjects in true poesy;
  But as for me, my vexèd thoughtful soul
  Takes pleasure in displeasing sharp control.
    Thou nursing mother of fair Wisdom's lore,
  Ingenuous Melancholy, I implore                                  10
  Thy grave assistance: take thy gloomy seat,
  Enthrone thee in my blood; let me entreat,
  Stay his quick jocund skips, and force him run
  A sad-paced course, until my whips be done.
  Daphne, unclip thine arms from my sad brow;
  Black cypress crown me, whilst I up do plow
  The hidden entrails of rank villainy,
  Tearing the veil from damn'd impiety.
  Quake, guzzel dogs,[429] that live on putrid slime,
  Skud from the lashes of my yerking rhyme.                        20


     [429] "In other words, dogs of the gutter or drain. A small
     gutter is still called a guzzle in some of the
     provinces."--_Halliwell._


                             SATIRE I.

                       _Fronti nulla fides._

  Marry, God forefend! Martius swears he'll stab:
  Phrygio, fear not, thou art no lying drab.
  What though dagger-hack'd mouths of his blade swears
  It slew as many as figures of years
  Aquafortis eat in't, or as many more
  As methodist[430] Musus kill'd with hellebore
  In autumn[431] last; yet he bears that male lie[432]
  With as smooth calm as Mecho rivalry.
  How ill his shape with inward form doth fage,[433]
  Like Aphrogenia's ill-yoked marriage!                            10
  Fond physiognomer, complexion
  Guides not the inward disposition,
  Inclines I yield; thou sayst law; Julia,       }
  Or Cato's often-curst Scatinia,                }
  Can take no hold on simp'ring Lesbia.          }
  True, not on her eye; yet alum oft doth blast
  The sprouting bud that fain would longer last.
  Chary Casca, right pure, or Rhodanus,
  Yet each night drinks in glassy Priapus.[434]
    Yon pine is fair, yet foully doth it ill                      20
  To his own sprouts; mark, his rank drops distill
  Foul Naples' canker[435] in their tender rind.
  Woe worth, when trees drop in their proper kind!
  Mistagogus, what means this prodigy?
  When Hiadolgo speaks 'gainst usury,
  When Verres rails 'gainst thieves, Milo doth hate
  Murder, Clodius cuckolds, Marius the gate
  Of squinting Janus shuts? Run beyond bound
  Of _Nil ultra_, and hang me when one's found
  Will be himself. Had nature turn'd our eyes                      30
  Into our proper selves, these curious spies
  Would be ashamed: Flavia would blush to flout
  When Oppia calls Lucina help her out,
  If she did think Lynceus did know her ill,
  How nature art, how art doth nature spill.
  God pardon me! I often did aver,
  _Quod gratis grate_, the astronomer
  An honest man; but I'll do so no more.
  His face deceived me; but now, since his whore
  And sister are all one, his honesty                              40
  Shall be as bare as his anatomy,
  To which he bound his wife. O, packstaff[436] rhymes!
  Why not, when court of stars shall see these crimes?
  Rods are in piss--ay, for thee, empirick,
  That twenty grains of opium will not stick
  To minister to babes. Here's bloody days,
  When with plain herbs Mutius more men slays
  Than ere third Edward's sword! Sooth, in our age,
  Mad Coribantes need not to enrage
  The people's minds. You, Ophiogeni[437]                          50
  Of Hellespont, with wrangling villainy
  The swoll'n world's inly stung, then deign a touch,
  If that your fingers can effect so much.
  Thou sweet Arabian Panchaia,
  Perfume this nasty age: smug Lesbia
  Hath stinking lungs, although a simp'ring grace,
  A muddy inside, though a surphuled[438] face.
  O for some deep-searching Corycean,
  To ferret out yon lewd Cinædian![439]
    How now, Brutus, what shape best pleaseth thee?               60
  All Protean forms, thy wife in venery,
  At thy enforcement takes? Well, go thy way,
  She may transform thee, ere thy dying day.
  Hush, Gracchus hears, that hath retail'd more lies,
  Broachèd more slanders, done more villainies,
  Than Fabius' perpetual golden coat
  (Which might have _Semper idem_ for a mott)
  Hath been at feasts, and led the measuring[440]
  At court, and in each marriage revelling;
  Writ Palæphatus'[441] comment on those dreams                    70
  That Hylus takes, 'midst dung-pit reeking steams
  Of Athos' hot-house. Gramercy, modest smile,
  Chremes asleep! Paphia, sport the while.
  Lucia, new set thy ruff; tut, thou art pure,
  Canst thou not lisp "good brother," look demure?
  Fie, Gallus, what, a sceptic Pyrrhonist,
  When chaste Dictynna breaks the zonelike twist?
  Tut, hang up hieroglyphics. I'll not feign,
  Wresting my humour from his native strain.


     [430] A regular physician, opposed to an empiric.

     [431] Imitated from Juvenal, x. 221, "Quot Themison aegros
     autumno occiderit uno."

     [432] "_Male_ lie"--great, strong lie: perhaps in imitation of
     Gr. arsin.

     [433] Fadge.

     [434] From Juvenal--"_Vitreo_ bibit ille _Priapo_," Sat. ii. 95.
     The _vitreus Priapus_ was a drinking-cup fashioned in the shape
     of a Priapus.

     [435] "Naples' canker"--the pox.

     [436] "Cf. Hall, Prol. B. iii. 'Satyres ... packstaff
     plain.'"--_Grosart._

     [437] "There is a certain kind of people to whom it is naturally
     given, either by touching or sucking, to cure the wounding of
     venomous serpents; called Psylli (a people of Libya) and Marsi,
     people of Italy, bordering upon the Samnites, and Aequiculania,
     and _those that were called by the ancient writers Ophiogenes,
     which dwelt about Hellespont, as both Pliny, Aelianus, and Aeneas
     Silvius do witness_."--Topsel's _Hist. of Serpents_, ed. 1658, p.
     624.

     [438] Washed with Cosmetics.

     [439] Gr. kinaidos.

     [440] The _measures_--a stately dance.

     [441] The author of a treatise (Peri Apiston) on mythology.


                             SATIRE II.

            _Difficile est Satiram non scribere._--JUVE.

  I cannot hold, I cannot, I, endure
  To view a big-womb'd foggy cloud immure
  The radiant tresses of the quick'ning sun:
  Let custards quake,[442] my rage must freely run.
  Preach not the Stoic's patience to me;
  I hate no man, but men's impiety.
  My soul is vex'd; what power will resist,
  Or dares to stop a sharp-fang'd satirist?
  Who'll cool my rage? who'll stay my itching fist?
  But I will plague and torture whom I list.                       10
  If that the threefold walls of Babylon
  Should hedge my tongue, yet I should rail upon
  This fusty world, that now dare put in ure[443]
  To make JEHOVA but a coverture
  To shade rank filth. Loose conscience is free
  From all conscience, what else hath liberty?
  As't please the Thracian Boreas to blow,
  So turns our airy conscience to and fro.
    What icy Saturnist, what northern pate,
  But such gross lewdness would exasperate?                        20
  I think the blind doth see the flame-god rise
  From sister's couch, each morning to the skies,
  Glowing with lust. Walk but in dusky night
  With Lynceus' eyes, and to thy piercing sight
  Disguisèd gods will show, in peasants' shape,
  Prest[444] to commit some execrable rape.
  Here Jove's lust-pander, Maia's juggling son,
  In clown's disguise, doth after milkmaids run;
  And, 'fore he'll lose his brutish lechery,
  The trulls shall taste sweet nectar's surquedry.                 30
  There Juno's brat forsakes Neries' (?) bed
  And like a swaggerer, lust-firèd,
  Attended only with his smock-sworn page,
  Pert Gallus, slyly slips along, to wage
  Tilting encounters with some spurious seed
  Of marrow pies and yawning oysters' breed.
                                     O damn'd!
  Who would not shake a satire's knotty rod,
  When to defile the sacred seat of God
  Is but accounted gentlemen's disport?                            40
  To snort in filth, each hour to resort
  To brothel-pits; alas! a venial crime,
  Nay, royal, to be last in thirtieth slime!
    Ay me! hard world for satirists begin
  To set up shop, when no small petty sin
  Is left unpurged! Once to be pursy fat,
  Had wont because that life did macerate.
  Marry, the jealous queen of air doth frown,
  That Ganymede is up, and Hebe down.
  Once Albion lived in such a cruel age                            50
  That[445] men did hold by servile villenage:
  Poor brats were slaves of bondmen that were born,
  And marted, sold: but that rude law is torn
  And disannull'd, as too too[446] inhumane,
  That lords o'er peasants should such service strain.
  But now (sad change!) the kennel sink of slaves,
  Peasant great lords, and servile service craves.
    Bond-slave sons had wont be bought and sold;
  But now heroës' heirs (if they have not told
  A discreet number[447] 'fore their dad did die)                  60
  Are made much of: how much from merchandie?
  Tail'd, and retail'd, till to the pedlar's pack
  The fourth-hand ward-ware comes; alack, alack![448]
  Would truth did know I lied: but truth and I
  Do know that sense is born to misery.
  Oh would to God this were their worst mischance,
  Were not their souls sold to dark ignorance!
  Fair godness is foul ill, if mischief's wit
  Be not repress'd from lewd corrupting it.
    O what dry brain melts not sharp mustard rhyme,                70
  To purge the snottery of our slimy time!
  Hence, idle "_Cave_," vengeance pricks me on,
  When mart is made of fair religion.
  Reform'd bald Trebus swore, in Romish quire,
  He sold God's essence for a poor denier.[449]
  The Egyptians adorèd onions,
  To garlic yielding all devotions.
  O happy garlic, but thrice happy you,
  Whose scenting gods in your large gardens grew!
  Democritus, rise from thy putrid slime,                          80
  Sport at the madness of that hotter clime,
  Deride their frenzy, that for policy
  Adore wheat dough as real deity.
  Almighty men, that can their Maker make,
  And force his sacred body to forsake
  The cherubins, to be gnawn actually,
  Dividing _individuum_ really;
  Making a score of gods with one poor word.
  Ay, so I thought, in that you could afford
  So cheap a pennyworth. O ample field,                            90
  In which a satire may just weapon wield
  But I am vex'd, when swarms of Julians
  Are still manured by lewd precisians,
  Who, scorning Church-rites, take the symbol up
  As slovenly as careless courtiers slup
  Their mutton gruel! Fie! who can withhold,
  But must of force make his mild muse a scold,
  When that he grievèd sees, with red vex'd eyes,
  That Athens' ancient large immunities
  Are eyesores to the Fates! Poor cells forlorn!                  100
  Is't not enough you are made an abject scorn
  To jeering apes, but must the shadow too
  Of ancient substance be thus wrung from you!
  O split my heart, lest it do break with rage,
  To see th' immodest looseness of our age!
  Immodest looseness? fie, too gentle word,
  When every sign can brothelry afford:
  When lust doth sparkle from our females' eyes,
  And modesty is roosted in the skies!
    Tell me, Galliottæ, what means this sign,                     110
  When impropriate gentles will turn Capuchine?
  Sooner be damn'd! O, stuff satirical!
  When rapine feeds our pomp, pomp ripes our fall;
  When the guest trembles at his host's swart look;
  The son doth fear his stepdame, that hath took
  His mother's place for lust; the twin-born brother
  Maligns his mate, that first came from his mother;
  When to be huge, is to be deadly sick;
  When virtuous peasants will not spare to lick
  The devil's tail for poor promotion;                            120
  When for neglect, slubber'd Devotion
  Is wan with grief; when Rufus yawns for death
  Of him that gave him undeservèd breath;
  When Hermus makes a worthy question,
  Whether of right,[450] as paraphernalion,
  A silver piss-pot[451] fits his lady dame,
  Or it's too good--a pewter best became;
  When Agrippina poisons Claudius' son,
  That all the world to her own brat might run;
  When the husband gapes that his stale wife would die
  That he might once be in by courtesy;                           131
  The big-paunch'd wife longs for her loath'd mate's death,
  That she might have more jointures here on earth;
  When tenure for short years (by many a one)
  Is thought right good be[452] turn'd forth Littleton,
  All to be heady, or freehold at least,
  When 'tis all one, for long life be a beast,
  A slave, as have a short-term'd tenancy;
  When dead's the strength of England's yeomanry;
  When inundation of luxuriousness                                140
  Fats all the world with such gross beastliness:--
  Who can abstain? What modest brain can hold,
  But he must make his shame-faced muse a scold?


     [442] Ridiculed in _The Poetaster_, v. i.; but we have the
     expression _quaking custard_ in the prologue to _Volpone_.

     [443] Use.

     [444] _i.e._, intent on committing.

     [445] So ed. 1598.--Ed. 1599 "Than."

     [446] See note 1, vol. ii. p. 328.

     [447] _i.e._, if they have not attained their majority.

     [448] Dekker, on the other hand, tells us in _The Seven Deadly
     Sins of London_, 1606, that orphans were nowhere more carefully
     guarded than in London. "For what city in the world," he writes,
     "does more dry up the tears of the widow and gives more warmth to
     the fatherless than this ancient and reverend grandame of cities?
     Where hath the orphan (that is to receive great portions) less
     cause to mourn the loss of parents? He finds four and twenty
     grave senators to be his father instead of one; the city itself
     to be his mother; her officers to be his servants, who see that
     he want nothing; her laws to suffer none to do him wrong; and
     though he be never so simple in wit or so tender in years, she
     looks as warily to that wealth which is left him as to the apple
     of her own eye."

     [449] A small French coin.

     [450] Old eds. "Whether of _Wright_, as _Paraphonalion_."

     [451] It would appear from old inventories that these articles
     were occasionally made of the precious metals.

     [452] The text is evidently corrupt.


                            SATIRE III.

                _Redde, age, quæ deinceps risisti._

  It's good be wary, whilst the sun shines clear
  (Quoth that old chuff that may dispend by year
  Three thousand pound), whilst he of good pretence
  Commits himself to Fleet, to save expense.
  No country's Christmas--rather tarry here,
  The Fleet is cheap, the country hall too dear.
  But, Codrus, hark! the world expects to see
  Thy bastard heir rot there in misery.
  What! will Luxurio keep so great a hall
  That he will prove a bastard in his fall?                        10
  No; "Come[453] on five! St. George, by Heaven, at all!"
  Makes his catastrophe right tragical!
  At all? till nothing's left! Come on, till all comes off,
  Ay, hair and all! Luxurio, left a scoff
  To leprous filths! O stay, thou impious slave,
  Tear not the lead from off thy father's grave
  To stop base brokeage!--sell not thy father's sheet--
  His leaden sheet, that strangers' eyes may greet
  Both putrefaction of thy greedy sire
  And thy abhorrèd viperous desire!                                20
  But wilt thou needs, shall thy dad's lacky brat
  Wear thy sire's half-rot finger in his hat?
  Nay, then, Luxurio, waste in obloquy,
  And I shall sport to hear thee faintly cry,
  "A die, a drab, and filthy broking knaves,
  Are the world's wide mouths, all-devouring graves."
  Yet Samus keeps a right good house, I hear--
  No, it keeps him, and free'th him from chill fear
  Of shaking fits. How, then, shall his smug wench,
  How shall her bawd (fit time) assist her quench                  30
  Her sanguine heat? Lynceus, canst thou scent?
  She hath her monkey and her instrument
  Smooth fram'd at Vitrio. O grievous misery!
  Luscus hath left his[454] female luxury;
  Ay, it left him! No, his old cynic dad
  Hath forc'd him clean forsake his Pickhatch[455] drab.
  Alack, alack! what peace of lustful flesh
  Hath Luscus left, his Priape to redress?
  Grieve not, good soul, he hath his Ganymede,
  His perfumed she-goat, smooth-kemb'd and high fed.               40
  At Hogson[456] now his monstrous love he feasts,
  For there he keeps a bawdy-house of beasts.
  Paphus, let Luscus have his courtezan,
  Or we shall have a monster of a man.
  Tut! Paphus now detains him from that bower,
  And clasps him close within his brick-built tower.
  Diogenes,[457] thou art damn'd for thy lewd wit,
  For Luscus now hath skill to practise it.
  Faith, what cares he for fair Cinædian boys,
  Velvet-caped[458] goats, Dutch mares? Tut! common toys!
  Detain them all on this condition,                               51
  He may but use his cynic friction.
    O now, ye male stews, I can give pretence
  For your luxurious incontinence.
  Hence, hence, ye falsèd seeming patriots,
  Return not with pretence of salving spots,
  When here ye soil us with impurity,
  And monstrous filth of Doway seminary.
  What, though Iberia yield you liberty,
  To snort in sauce of Sodom villainy?                             60
  What, though the blooms of young nobility,
  Committed to your Rhodon's custody,
  Ye, Nero-like, abuse? yet ne'er approach
  Your new St. Omer's[459] lewdness here to broach;
  Tainting our towns and hopeful academes
  With your lust-baiting, most abhorrèd means.
     Valladolid, our Athens, 'gins to taste
  Of thy rank filth. Camphire and lettuce chaste[460]
  Are clean cashier'd; now Sophi ringoes eat,
  Candied potatoes are Athenians' meat.                            70
  Hence, holy thistle, come sweet marrow-pie,
  Enflame our backs to itching luxury.
  A crab's[461] baked guts, a lobster's butter'd thigh,
  I hear them swear is blood for venery.
  Had I some snout-fair[462] brats, they should endure
  The new-found Castilion calenture
  Before some pedant tutor, in his bed,
  Should use my frie like Phrygian Ganymede.
  Nay, then, chaste cells, when greasy Aretine,
  For his rank fico,[463] is surnamed divine;                      80
  Nay, then, come all ye venial scapes to me,
  I dare well warrant you'll absolvèd be.
  Rufus, I'll term thee but intemperate--
  I will not once thy vice exaggerate--
  Though that each hour thou lewdly swaggerest,
  And at the quarter-day pay'st interest
  For the forbearance of thy chalkèd score;
  Though that thou keep'st a tally with thy whore:
  Since Nero keeps his mother Agrippine,
  And no strange lust can satiate[464] Messaline.                  90
    Tullus, go scotfree; though thou often bragg'st
  That, for a false French crown thou vaulting hadst;
  Though that thou know'st, for thy incontinence,
  Thy drab repaid thee true French pestilence.
  But tush! his boast I bear, when Tegeran
  Brags that he foists his rotten courtezan
  Upon his heir, that must have all his lands,
  And them hath join'd in Hymen's sacred bands.
  I'll wink at Robrus, that for vicinage
  Enters common on his next neighbour's stage;                    100
  When Jove maintains his sister and his whore,
  And she incestuous, jealous evermore
  Lest that Europa on the bull should ride;
  Woe worth, when beasts for filth are deified!
    Alack, poor rogues! what censor interdicts
  The venial scapes of him that purses picks?
  When some sly golden-slopp'd Castilio
  Can cut a manor's strings at primero?
  Or with a pawn shall give a lordship mate,
  In statute-staple[465] chaining fast his state?                 110
    What academic starved satirist
  Would gnaw reez'd[466] bacon, or, with ink-black fist,
  Would toss each muck-heap for some outcast scraps
  Of half-dung bones, to stop his yawning chaps?
  Or, with a hungry, hollow, half-pined jaw
  Would once a thrice-turn'd bone-pick'd subject gnaw,
  When swarms of mountebanks and banditti,
  Damn'd Briareans, sinks of villainy,
  Factors for lewdness, brokers for the devil,
  Infect our souls with all-polluting evil?                       120
    Shall Lucia scorn her husband's lukewarm bed
  (Because her pleasure, being hurrièd
  In jolting coach, with glassy instrument,
  Doth far exceed the Paphian blandishment),
  Whilst I (like to some mute Pythagoran)
  Halter my hate, and cease to curse and ban
  Such brutish filth? Shall Matho raise his fame
  By printing pamphlets in another's name,
  And in them praise himself, his wit, his might,
  All to be deem'd his country's lanthorn-light?                  130
  Whilst my tongue's tied with bonds of blushing shame,
  For fear of broaching my concealèd name?
  Shall Balbus, the demure Athenian,
  Dream of the death of next vicarian,
  Cast his nativity, mark his complexion,
  Weigh well his body's weak condition,
  That, with gilt sleight, he may be sure to get
  The planet's place when his dim shine shall set?
  Shall Curio streak[467] his limbs on his day's couch,
  In summer bower, and with bare groping touch                    140
  Incense his lust, consuming all the year
  In Cyprian dalliance, and in Belgic cheer?
  Shall Faunus spend a hundred gallions
  Of goat's pure milk to lave his stallions,
  As much rose-juice? O bath! O royal, rich,
  To scour Faunus and his salt-proud bitch.
  And when all's cleans'd, shall the slave's inside stink
  Worse than the new cast slime of Thames ebb'd brink,
  Whilst I securely let him over-slip,
  Ne'er yerking him with my satiric whip?                         150
    Shall Crispus with hypocrisy beguile,
  Holding a candle to some fiend a while--
  Now Jew, then Turk, then seeming Christian,
  Then Atheist, Papist, and straight Puritan;
  Now nothing, anything, even what you list,
  So that some gilt[468] may grease his greedy fist?
    Shall Damas use his third-hand ward as ill
  As any jade that tuggeth in the mill?
  What, shall law, nature, virtue be rejected,
  Shall these world-arteries be soul-infected                     160
  With corrupt blood, whilst I shall Martia task,
  Or some young Villius all in choler ask
  How he can keep a lazy waiting-man,
  And buy a hood, and silver-handled fan,
  With forty pound? Or snarl at Lollius' son,
  That with industrious pains hath harder won
  His true-got worship and his gentry's name
  Than any swineherd's brat that lousy came
  To luskish[469] Athens and, with farming pots,
  Compiling beds, and scouring greasy spots,                      170
  By chance (when he can, like taught parrot, cry
  "Dearly belov'd," with simpering gravity)
  Hath got the farm of some gelt[470] vicary,
  And now, on cock-horse, gallops jollily;
  Tickling, with some stol'n stuff, his senseless cure,
  Belching lewd terms 'gainst all sound literature?
  Shall I with shadows fight, task bitterly
  Rome's filth, scraping base channel roguery,
  Whilst such huge giants shall affright our eyes
  With execrable, damn'd inpieties?                               180
  Shall I find trading Mecho never loath
  Frankly to take a damning perjured oath?
  Shall Furia broke her sister's modesty,
  And prostitute her soul to brothelry?
  Shall Cossus make his well-faced wife a stale,[471]
  To yield his braided[472] ware a quicker sale?
  Shall cock-horse, fat-paunch'd Milo stain whole stocks
  Of well-born souls with his adultering spots?
  Shall broking panders suck nobility,
  Soiling fair stems with foul impurity?                          190
  Nay, shall a trencher-slave extenuate
  Some Lucrece rape, and straight magnificate
  Lewd Jovian lust, whilst my satiric vein
  Shall muzzled be, not daring out to strain
  His tearing paw? No, gloomy Juvenal,
  Though to thy fortunes I disastrous fall.


     [453] "Come on five," "at all,"--old terms in dice-playing.

     [454] Ed. 1599 "her."

     [455] A low part of Clerkenwell.

     [456] Hoxton,--in Elizabethan times a favourite resort for
     pleasure-seekers. See particularly the opening of _The Passionate
     Morrice_ (pt. ii. of _Tell-Trothes New Yeares Gift_), 1593.

     [457] There is an allusion to a scandalous story told of Diogenes
     the Cynic. See Plutarch's _De Stoicorum Repugnantiis_, cap. xxi.,
     and Diogenes Laertius' _Philosophorum Vitæ_, vi. 2, 46.

     [458] So I understand the "Velvet-cap't" of the old eds.

     [459] Old eds. "S. Homers."

     [460] So Hall in _Virgidem_., iv. 4:--
          "Virginius vow'd to keep his maidenhead,
           And eats _chaste lettuce_ and drinks poppy head,
           And smells on camphire fasting."

     [461] See vol. i. p. 239.

     [462] Hall has this word in _Virgidem._, iv. 1.

     [463] The name of a disease (Gr. sukon, Lat. _ficus_).--Aretine
     was styled _Il divino_.

     [464] Juvenal, _Sat._ vi. 130.

     [465] See Cowell's _Interpreter_.

     [466] Rusty, rancid. Hall has the expression "reez'd bacon" in
     _Virgidem_., iv. 2.

     [467] Stretch. So Hall in _Virgidem._ vi. 1. 207: "When Lucan
     _streakèd_ on his marble bed, &c."

     [468] "Gilt" (or gelt)--money.--Old eds. "guilt."

     [469] Clownish.--"Maudolé. Misshapen, ill-framed, ill-favoured,
     _luskish_, without proportion."--_Cotgrave._ Athens is evidently
     Cambridge; and Marston is again glancing at Hall.

     [470] It seems to have been too common a practice for the patron
     of a living to pocket the best part of the incumbent's income--to
     "geld" the vicarage. Cf. _Jack Drum's Entertainment_:--
          "Sir, it were good you got a benefice,
           Some eunuch'd vicarage or some fellowship"
     (Simpsons's _School of Shakspere_, ii. 172); Hall's _Virgidem._,
     iv. 2, 105-6:--
                "plod at a patron's tail
          To get a _gelded chapel's_ cheaper sale."

     [471] See note, vol. ii. p. 60.

     [472] Faded.


                             SATIRE IV.

                              _Cras._

  Ay, marry, sir, here's perfect honesty,
  When Martius will forswear all villainy
  (All damn'd abuse of payment in the wars,
  All filching from his prince and soldiers),
  When once he can but so much bright dirt glean
  As may maintain one more Whitefriars quean,
  One drab more; faith, then farewell villainy,
  He'll cleanse himself to Shoreditch purity.
    As for Stadius, I think he hath a soul;
  And if he were but free from sharp control                       10
  Of his sour host, and from his tailor's bill,
  He would not thus abuse his rhyming skill;
  Jading our tirèd ears with fooleries,
  Greasing great slaves with oily flatteries.
  Good faith, I think he would not strive to suit
  The back of humorous Time (for base repute
  'Mong dunghill peasants), botching up such ware
  As may be saleable in Sturbridge fair,
  If he were once but freed from specialty;
  But sooth, till then, bear with his balladry.                    20
    I ask'd lewd Gallus when he'll cease to swear,
  And with whole-culverin, raging oaths to tear
  The vault of heaven--spitting in the eyes
  Of Nature's nature loathsome blasphemies.
  To-morrow, he doth vow, he will forbear.
  Next day I meet him, but I hear him swear
  Worse than before. I put his vow in mind.
  He answers me "To-morrow;" but I find
  He swears next day far worse than e'er before,
  Putting me off with "morrow" evermore.                           30
  Thus, when I urge him, with his sophistry
  He thinks to salve his damnèd perjury.
    Silenus now is old, I wonder, I,
  He doth not hate his triple venery.
  Cold, writhled[473] eld, his life-sweat[474] almost spent,
  Methinks a unity were competent.
  But, O fair hopes! he whispers secretly,
  When it leaves him he'll leave his lechery.
    When simp'ring Flaccus (that demurely goes
  Right neatly tripping on his new-black'd toes)                   40
  Hath made rich use of his religion,
  Of God himself, in pure devotion;
  When that the strange ideas in his head
  (Broachèd 'mongst curious sots, by shadows led)
  Have furnish'd him, by his hoar auditors,
  Of fair demesnes and goodly rich manors;
  Sooth, then, he will repent when's treasury
  Shall force him to disclaim his heresy.
  What will not poor need force? But being sped,
  God for us all! the gurmond's[475] paunch is fed;                50
  His mind is changed. But when will he do good?
  To-morrow,--ay, to-morrow, by the rood!
    Yet Ruscus swears he'll cease to broke a suit,
  By peasant means striving to get repute
  'Mong puffy sponges, when the Fleet's defrayed,
  His revel tire, and his laundress paid.
  There is a crew which I too plain could name,
  If so I might without th' Aquinians'[476] blame,
  That lick the tail of greatness with their lips--
  Labouring with third-hand jests and apish skips,                 60
  Retailing others' wit, long barrellèd,
  To glib some great man's ears till paunch be fed--
  Glad if themselves, as sporting fools, be made
  To get the shelter of some high-grown shade.
  To-morrow yet these base tricks they'll cast off,
  And cease for lucre be a jeering scoff.
  Ruscus will leave when once he can renew
  His wasted clothes, that are ashamed to view
  The world's proud eyes; Drusus will cease to fawn
  When that his farm, that leaks in melting pawn,                  70
  Some lord-applauded jest hath once set free:
  All will to-morrow leave their roguery.
  When fox-furr'd Mecho (by damn'd usury,
  Cut-throat deceit, and his craft's villainy)
  Hath raked together some four thousand pound,
  To make his smug girl bear a bumming sound
  In a young merchant's ear, faith, then (may be)
  He'll ponder if there be a Deity;
  Thinking, if to the parish poverty,
  At his wish'd death, be doled a halfpenny,                       80
  A work of supererogation,
  A good filth-cleansing strong purgation.
    Aulus will leave begging monopolies
  When that, 'mong troops of gaudy butterflies,
  He is but able jet it jollily
  In piebald suits of proud court bravery.
    To-morrow doth Luxurio promise me
  He will unline himself from bitchery;
  Marry, Alcides thirteenth act must lend
  A glorious period, and his lust-itch end,                        90
  When once he hath froth-foaming Ætna past,
  At one-and-thirty,[477] being always last.
    If not to-day (quoth that Nasonian),
  Much less to-morrow. "Yes," saith Fabian,
  "For ingrain'd habits, dyed with often dips,
  Are not so soon discolourèd. Young slips,
  New set, are easily mov'd and pluck'd away;
  But elder roots clip faster in the clay."
  I smile at thee, and at the Stagyrite,[478]
  Who holds the liking of the appetite,                           100
  Being fed with actions often put in ure,[479]
  Hatcheth the soul in quality impure
  Or pure; may be in virtue: but for vice,
  That comes by inspiration, with a trice.
  Young Furius, scarce fifteen years of age,
  But is, straightways, right fit for marriage--
  Unto the devil; for sure they would agree,
  Betwixt their souls there is such sympathy.
    O where's your sweaty habit, when each ape,
  That can but spy the shadow of his shape,                       110
  That can no sooner ken what's virtuous,
  But will avoid it, and be vicious!
  Without much do or far-fetch'd habiture,
  In earnest thus:--It is a sacred cure
  To salve the soul's dread wounds; omnipotent
  That Nature is, that cures the impotent,
  Even in a moment. Sure, grace is infused
  By Divine favour, not by actions used,
  Which is as permanent as heaven's bliss,
  To them that have it; then no habit is.                         120
  To-morrow, nay, to-day, it may be got,
  So please that gracious power cleanse thy spot.
  Vice, from privation of that sacred grace
  Which God withdraws, but puts not vice in place.
  Who says the sun is cause of ugly night?
  Yet when he veils our eyes from his fair sight,
  The gloomy curtain of the night is spread.
  Ye curious sots, vainly by Nature led,
  Where is your vice or virtuous habit now?
  For _Sustine_[480] _pro nunc_ doth bend his brow,               130
  And old crabb'd Scotus, on the Organon,
  Pay'th me with snaphance,[481] quick distinction.
  "Habits, that intellectual termèd be,
  Are got or else infused from Deity."
  Dull Sorbonist, fly contradiction!
  Fie! thou oppugn'st the definition;
  If one should say, "Of things term'd rational,
  Some reason have, others mere sensual,"
  Would not some freshman, reading Porphyry,
  Hiss and deride such blockish foolery?                          140
  "Then vice nor virtue have from habit place;
  The one from want, the other sacred grace;
  Infused, displaced; not in our will or force,
  But as it please Jehovah have remorse."
  I will, cries Zeno. O presumption!
  I can. Thou mayst, doggèd opinion
  Of thwarting cynics. To-day vicious;
  List to their precepts, next day virtuous.
  Peace, Seneca, thou belchest blasphemy!
  "To live from God, but to live happily"                         150
  (I hear thee boast) "from thy philosophy,
  And from thyself." O ravening lunacy!
  Cynics, ye wound yourselves; for destiny,
  Inevitable fate, necessity,
  You hold, doth sway the acts spiritual,
  As well as parts of that we mortal call.
  Where's then _I will_? Where's that strong deity
  You do ascribe to your philosophy?
  Confounded Nature's brats! can _will_ and _fate_
  Have both their seat and office in your pate?                   160
  O hidden depth of that dread secrecy,
  Which I do trembling touch in poetry!
  To-day, to-day, implore obsequiously;
  Trust not to-morrow's will, lest utterly
  Ye be attach'd with sad confusion,
  In your grace-tempting lewd presumption.
    But I forget. Why sweat I out my brain
  In deep designs to gay boys, lewd and vain?
  These notes were better sung 'mong better sort;
  But to my pamphlet, few, save fools, resort.                    170


     [473] Writhed, crooked.

     [474] Old eds. "_liues-wet_."

     [475] "Gourmand. A glutton, _gormand_, bellie-god,
     greedy-gut."--_Cotgrave._

     [476] Juvenal was a native of Aquinum: hence Aquinians =
     satirists.

     [477] There was a game at cards called "one-and-thirty."

     [478] heni di logo ek ton homoion energeion ai hexeis ginontai.
     Arist. _Eth. Nicom._ ii. 1, 7.

     [479] Use.

     [480] _I.e._, maintain the thesis for the occasion.

     [481] See note, p. 269. [Transcriber's note: Footnote 364].




                    PROEMIUM IN LIBRUM SECUNDUM.


  I cannot quote a mott[482] Italionate,
     Or brand my satires with some Spanish term;
  I cannot with swoll'n lines magnificate
     Mine own poor worth, or as immaculate
  Task others' rhymes, as if no blot did stain,
  No blemish soil, my young satiric vein.

  Nor can I make my soul a merchandise,
     Seeking conceits to suit these artless times;
  Or deign for base reward to poetise,
     Soothing the world with oily flatteries.                      10
  Shall mercenary thoughts provoke me write--
  Shall I for lucre be a parasite?

  Shall I once pen for vulgar sorts applause,
     To please each hound, each dungy scavenger;
  To fit some oyster-wench's yawning jaws
     With tricksey tales of speaking Cornish daws?[483]
  First let my brain (bright-hair'd Latona's son)
  Be clean distract with all confusion.

  What though some John-à-Stile will basely toil,
     Only incited with the hope of gain:                           20
  Though roguey thoughts do force some jade-like moil;
     Yet no such filth my true-born muse will soil.
  O Epictetus, I do honour thee,
  To think how rich thou wert in poverty!

     [482] Motto.

     [483] "Cornish daws"--jackdaws.


                           _Ad rhythmum._

  Come, pretty pleasing symphony of words,
  Ye well-match'd twins (whose like-tuned tongues affords
  Such musical delight), come willingly
  And dance lavoltas in my poesy.
  Come all as easy as spruce Curio will,
  In some court-hall, to show his cap'ring skill;
  As willingly come, meet and jump together
  As new-join'd loves, when they do clip each other;
  As willingly as wenches trip around
  About a May-pole after bagpipe's sound;                          10
  Come, rhyming numbers, come and grace conceit,
  Adding a pleasing close, with your deceit
  Enticing ears. Let not my ruder hand
  Seem once to force you in my lines to stand;
  Be not so fearful (pretty souls) to meet
  As Flaccus is the sergeant's face to greet;
  Be not so backward, loth to grace my sense,
  As Drusus is to have intelligence
  His dad's alive; but come into my head
  As jocundly as (when his wife was dead)                          20
  Young Lælius to his home. Come, like-faced rhyme,
  In tuneful numbers keeping music's time;
  But if you hang an arse, like Tubered,
  When Chremes dragg'd him from his brothel bed,
  Then hence, base ballad-stuff, my poetry
  Disclaims you quite; for know my liberty
  Scorns rhyming laws. Alas, poor idle sound!
  Since I first Phoebus knew I never found
  Thy interest in sacred poesy;
  Thou to invention add'st but surquedry,                          30
  A gaudy ornature, but hast no part
  In that soul-pleasing high infusèd art.
  Then if thou wilt clip kindly in my lines,
  Welcome, thou friendly aid of my designs:
  If not, no title of my senseless change
  To wrest some forcèd rhyme, but freely range.
     Ye scrupulous observers, go and learn
     Of Æsop's dog; meat from a shade discern.


                             SATIRE V.

                          _Totum in toto._

  Hang thyself, Drusus: hast nor arms nor brain?
  So Sophi say, "The gods sell all for pain."
                                              Not so.
  Had not that toiling Theban's[484] steelèd back
  Dread poisoned shafts, lived he now, he should lack
  Spite of his farming ox-stalls. Themis' self
  Would be cashier'd from one poor scrap of pelf.
  If that she were incarnate in our time,
  She might lusk,[485] scornèd in disdainèd slime,
  Shaded from honour by some envious mist                          10
  Of wat'ry fogs, that fill the ill-stuff'd list
  Of fair Desert, jealous even of blind dark,
  Lest it should spy, and at their lameness bark.
  "Honour's shade thrusts honour's substance from his place."
  'Tis strange, when shade the substance can disgrace.
  "Harsh lines!" cries Curus, whose ears ne'er rejoice
  But at the quavering of my lady's voice.
  Rude limping lines fits this lewd halting age:
  Sweet-scenting Curus, pardon then my rage,
  When wisards[486] swear plain virtue never thrives,              20
  None but Priapus by plain dealing wives.
  Then, subtile Hermes, are the destinies
  Enamour'd on thee! Then up, mount the skies,
  Advance, depose, do even what thou list,
  So long as fates do grace thy juggling fist.
  Tuscus, hast Beuclerc's arms and strong sinews,
  Large reach, full-fed veins, ample revenues?
  Then make thy markets by thy proper arm;
  O brawny strength is an all-canning[487] charm!
  Thou dreadless Thracian![488] hast Hallirhothius slain?          30
  What, is't not possible thy cause maintain
  Before the dozen Areopagites?
  Come, Enagonian,[489] furnish him with sleights.
  Tut, Pluto's wrath Proserpina can melt,
  So that thy sacrifice be freely felt.
  What! cannot Juno force in bed with Jove,
  Turn and return a sentence with her love?--
  Thou art too dusky.--Fie, thou shallow ass!
  Put on more eyes, and mark me as I pass.
  Well, plainly thus: "Sleight, force are mighty things,           40
  From which much (if not most) earth's glory springs.
  If virtue's self were clad in human shape,
  Virtue without these might go beg and scrape.
  The naked truth is, a well-clothèd lie,
  A nimble quick pate mounts to dignity;
  By force or fraud, that matters not a jot,
  So massy wealth may fall unto thy lot."
     I heard old Albius swear Flavus should have
  His eldest girl, for Flavus was a knave,
  A damn'd deep-reaching villain, and would mount                  50
  (He durst well warrant him) to great account;
  What, though he laid forth all his stock and store
  Upon some office, yet he'll gain much more,
  Though purchased dear; tut, he will treble it
  In some few terms, by his extorting wit.
     When I, in simple meaning, went to sue
  For tongue-tied Damus, that would needs go woo,
  I prais'd him for his virtuous honest life.
  "By God," cries Flora, "I'll not be his wife!
  He'll ne'er come on." Now I swear solemnly,                      60
  When I go next I'll praise his villainy:
  A better field to range in nowadays.
  If vice be virtue, I can all men praise.
     What, though pale Maurus paid huge simonies
  For his half-dozen gelded vicaries,[490]
  Yet, with good honest cut-throat usury,
  I fear he'll mount to reverent[491] dignity.
  "O sleight, all-canning sleight, all-damning sleight,
  The only gally-ladder unto might."
     Tuscus is trade-fall'n; yet great hope he'll rise,            70
  For now he makes no count of perjuries;
  Hath drawn false lights[492] from pitch-black loveries,[493]
  Glazed his braided[494] ware, cogs, swears, and lies;
  Now since he hath the grace, thus graceless be,
  His neighbours swear he'll swell with treasury.
  Tut, who maintains such goods, ill-got, decay?
  No, they'll stick by thy[495] soul, they'll ne'er away.
  Luscus, my lord's perfumer, had no sale
  Until he made his wife a brothel-stale.
  Absurd, the gods sell all for industry,                          80
  When what's not got by hell-bred villainy!
     Codrus, my well-faced lady's tail-bearer
  (He that sometimes play'th Flavia's usherer),
  I heard one day complain to Lynceus
  How vigilant, how right obsequious,
  Modest in carriage, how true in trust,
  And yet (alas!) ne'er guerdon'd with a crust.
  But now I see he finds by his accounts
  That sole Priapus, by plain-dealing, mounts.
  How now? What, droops the new Pegasian inn?                      90
  I fear mine host is honest. Tut, begin
  To set up whorehouse; ne'er too late to thrive;
  By any means, at Porta Rich arrive;
  Go use some sleight, or live poor Irus' life;
  Straight prostitute thy daughter or thy wife,
  And soon be wealthy; but be damn'd with it.
  Hath not rich Milo then deep-reaching wit?
                                            Fair age!
  When 'tis a high and hard thing t' have repute
  Of a complete villain, perfect, absolute;                       100
  And roguing virtue brings a man defame,
  A packstaff[496] epithet, and scornèd name.
     Fie, how my wit flags! How heavily
  Methinks I vent dull sprightless poesy!
  What cold black frost congeals my numbèd brain!
  What envious power stops a satire's vein!
  O now I know the juggling god of sleights,
  With Caduceus nimble Hermes fights,
  And mists my wit; offended that my rhymes
  Display his odious world-abusing crimes.                        110
     O be propitious, powerful god of arts!
  I sheathe my weapons, and do break my darts.
  Be then appeased; I'll offer to thy shrine
  An hecatomb of many spotted kine.
  Myriads of beasts shall satisfy thy rage,
  Which do profane thee in this apish age.
     Infectious blood, ye gouty humours quake,
     Whilst my sharp razor doth incision make.


     [484] Hercules.

     [485] Lie in idleness.

     [486] _i.e._, wise men.

     [487] _i.e._, all-powerful.

     [488] Ares.--See Apollodorus' _Bibl._, iii. 14.

     [489] A term (coined from Gr. enagonios) for a rhetorician.

     [490] See note, p. 324. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [470]]

     [491] Frequently used by Marston in the sense of _reverend_.

     [492] It was a common device with dishonest tradesmen to darken
     their shops in order to palm off inferior goods on their
     customers. Middleton, i. 247.

     [493] Loovers,--openings in the roof to let in light.

     [494] Faded.

     [495] Ed. 1599 "the."

     [496] Fitting a pedlar.--See note 1, p. 310.
           [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [436]]


                             SATIRE VI.

                          _Hem, nosti'n?_

  Curio, know'st me? Why, thou bottle-ale,[497]
  Thou barmy[498] froth! O stay me, lest I rail
  Beyond _Nil ultra_! to see this butterfly,
  This windy bubble, task my balladry
  With senseless censure. Curio, know'st my sprite?
  Yet deem'st that in sad[499] seriousness I write
  Such nasty stuff as is _Pygmalion_?
  Such maggot-tainted, lewd corruption!
     Ha, how he glavers[500] with his fawning snout,
  And swears he thought I meant but faintly flout                  10
  My fine smug rhyme. O barbarous dropsy-noul![501]
  Think'st thou that genius that attends my soul,
  And guides my fist to scourge magnificos,
  Will deign my mind be rank'd in Paphian shows?
  Think'st thou that I, which was create to whip
  Incarnate fiends, will once vouchsafe to trip
  A pavin's[502] traverse, or will lisp "Sweet love,"
  Or pule "Aye me," some female soul to move?
  Think'st thou that I in melting poesy
  Will pamper itching sensuality                                   20
  (That in the body's scum all fatally
  Entombs the soul's most sacred faculty)?
     Hence, thou misjudging censor: know I wrot
  Those idle rhymes to note the odious spot
  And blemish that deforms the lineaments
  Of modern poesy's habiliments.
  O that the beauties of invention,
  For want of judgment's disposition,
  Should all be spoil'd![503] O that such treasury,
  Such strain of well-conceited poesy,                             30
  Should moulded be in such a shapeless form,
  That want of art should make such wit a scorn!
     Here's one must invocate some loose-legg'd dame,
  Some brothel drab, to help him stanzas frame,
  Or else (alas!) his wits can have no vent,
  To broach conceit's industrious intent.
  Another yet dares tremblingly come out;
  But first he must invoke good Colin Clout.
     Yon's one hath yean'd a fearful prodigy,
  Some monstrous misshapen balladry;                               40
  His guts are in his brains, huge jobbernoul,[504]
  Right gurnet's-head;[505] the rest without all soul.
  Another walks, is lazy, lies him down,
  Thinks, reads, at length some wonted sleep doth crown
  His new-fall'n lids, dreams; straight, ten pound to one,
  Out steps some fairy with quick motion,
  And tells him wonders of some flow'ry vale;
  Awakes, straight rubs his eyes, and prints his tale.
     Yon's one whose strains have flown so high a pitch,
  That straight he flags and tumbles in a ditch.                   50
  His sprightly hot high-soaring poesy
  Is like that dreamèd of imagery,
  Whose head was gold, breast silver, brassy thigh,
  Lead legs, clay feet;[506] O fair-framed poesy!
     Here's one, to get an undeserved repute
  Of deep deep learning, all in fustian suit
  Of ill passed, far-fetch'd words attiereth
  His period, that sense forsweareth.
     Another makes old Homer Spenser cite,
  Like my _Pygmalion_, where, with rare[507] delight,              60
  He cries, "O Ovid!" This caus'd my idle quill,
  The world's dull ears with such lewd stuff to fill,
  And gull with bumbast lines the witless sense
  Of these odd nags, whose pates' circumference
  Is fill'd with froth. O these same buzzing gnats
  That sting my sleeping brows, these Nilus' rats,[508]
  Half dung, that have their life from putrid slime--
  These that do praise my loose lascivious rhyme!
  For these same shades, I seriously protest,
  I slubbered up that chaos indigest,                              70
  To fish for fools that stalk in goodly shape;
  "What, though in velvet cloak, yet still an ape."
  Capro reads, swears, scrubs, and swears again,
  "Now by my soul an admirable strain;"
  Strokes up his hair, cries, "Passing passing good;"
  O, there's a line incends his lustful blood!
     Then Muto comes, with his new glass-set face,
  And with his late-kiss'd hand my book doth grace,
  Straight reads, then smiles, and lisps, "'Tis pretty good,"
  And praiseth that he never understood.                           80
  But room for Flaccus, he'll my Satires read;
  O how I trembled straight with inward dread!
  But when I saw him read my fustian,
  And heard him swear I was a Pythian,
  Yet straight recall'd, and swears I did but quote
  Out of Xylinum[509] to that margent's note,
  I could scarce hold and keep myself conceal'd,
  But had well-nigh myself and all reveal'd.
  Then straight comes Friscus, that neat gentleman,
  That new-discarded academian,                                    90
  Who, for he could cry _Ergo_ in the school,
  Straightway with his huge judgment dares control
  Whatsoe'er he views: "That's pretty, pretty[510] good;
  That epithet hath not that sprightly blood
  Which should enforce it speak; that's Persius' vein;
  That's Juvenal's; here's Horace' crabbèd strain;"
  Though he ne'er read one line in Juvenal,
  Or, in his life, his lazy eye let fall
  On dusky Persius. O, indignity
  To my respectless free-bred poesy!                               100
     Hence, ye big-buzzing little-bodied gnats,
  Ye tattling echoes, huge-tongued pigmy brats:
  I mean to sleep: wake not my slumb'ring brain
  With your malignant, weak, detracting vein.
  What though the sacred issue of my soul
  I here expose to idiots' control;
  What though I bare to lewd opinion,
  Lay ope to vulgar profanation,
  My very genius,--yet know, my poesy
  Doth scorn your utmost, rank'st indignity;                       110
     My pate was great with child, and here 'tis eased;
     Vex all the world, so that thyself be pleased.


     [497] So Doll Tearsheet to Pistol:--"Away, you _bottle-ale_
     rascal, you basket-hilt juggler you."--2 _Henry IV._, ii. 4.

     [498] See note, p. 305. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [427]]

     [499] "Sad seriousness"--sober earnestness.

     [500] See note, p. 263. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [348]]

     [501] "Dropsy-noul"--grouthead.

     [502] Old eds. "Paunis."--Pavin was the name of an old dance.

     [503] So. ed. 1599.--Ed. 1598 "soyl'd."

     [504] See note 2, p. 301. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [417]]

     [505] A term of contempt for a stupid empty-headed person.

     [506] See the second chapter of _The Book of Daniel_.

     [507] So ed. 1598.--Ed. 1599 "rage."

     [508] Rats were supposed to be bred from the slime of the Nile
     when the river had shrunk.

     [509] For the "margent's note," see p. 288. [Transcriber's Note:
     Footnote [402]] Flaccus is represented as misunderstanding the
     meaning of "Huc usque xyl[)i]num" ("bombast up to this point")
     and as supposing that Marston in his marginal note was
     acknowledging his indebtedness to a work entitled _Xyl[=i]num_.

     [510] In ed. 1599 the word "pretty" is not repeated.


                            SATIRE VII.

                         _A Cynic Satire._

  A man,[511] a man, a kingdom for a man!
  Why, how now, currish, mad Athenian?
  Thou Cynic dog, see'st not the[512] streets do swarm
  With troops of men? No, no: for Circe's charm
  Hath turn'd them all to swine. I never shall
  Think those same Samian[513] saws authentical:
  But rather, I dare swear, the souls of swine
  Do live in men. For that same radiant shine--
  That lustre wherewith Nature's nature decked
  Our intellectual part--that gloss is soiled                      10
  With staining spots of vile impiety,
  And muddy dirt of sensuality.
  These are no men, but apparitions,
  Ignes fatui, glowworms, fictions,[514]
  Meteors, rats of Nilus, fantasies,
  Colosses, pictures, shades, resemblances.
                                Ho, Lynceus!
  Seest thou yon gallant in the sumptuous clothes,
  How brisk, how spruce, how gorgeously he shows?
  Note his French herring-bones:[515] but note no more,            20
  Unless thou spy his fair appendant whore,
  That lackies him. Mark nothing but his clothes,
  His new-stamp'd compliment, his cannon oaths;
  Mark those: for naught but such lewd viciousness
  E'er gracèd him, save Sodom beastliness.
  Is this a man? Nay, an incarnate devil,
  That struts in vice and glorieth in evil.
     A man, a man! Peace, Cynic, yon is one:
  A complete soul of all perfection.
  What, mean'st thou him that walks all open-breasted,             30
  Drawn through the ear, with ribands,[516] plumy-crested;
  He that doth snort in fat-fed luxury,
  And gapes for some grinding monopoly;
  He that in effeminate invention,
  In beastly source of all pollution,
  In riot, lust, and fleshly seeming sweetness,
  Sleeps sound, secure, under the shade of greatness?
  Mean'st thou that senseless, sensual epicure--
  That sink of filth, that guzzel[517] most impure--
  What, he? Lynceus, on my word thus presume,                      40
  He's nought but clothes, and scenting sweet perfume;
  His very soul, assure thee, Lynceus,
  Is not so big as is an atomus:
  Nay, he is spriteless, sense or soul hath none,
  Since last Medusa turn'd him to a stone.
  A man, a man! Lo, yonder I espy
  The shade of Nestor in sad gravity.
  Since old Silenus brake his ass's back,
  He now is forc'd his paunch and guts to pack
  In a fair tumbrel.[518] Why, sour satirist,                      50
  Canst thou unman him? Here I dare insist
  And soothly say, he is a perfect soul,
  Eats nectar, drinks ambrosia, sans control;
  An inundation of felicity
  Fats him with honour and huge treasury.
  Canst thou not, Lynceus, cast thy searching eye,
  And spy his imminent[519] catastrophe?
  He's but a sponge, and shortly needs must leese[520]
  His wrong-got juice, when greatness' fist shall squeeze
  His liquor out. Would not some shallow[521] head,                60
  That is with seeming shadows only fed,
  Swear yon same damask-coat, yon garded[522] man,
  Were some grave sober Cato Utican?
  When, let him but in judgment's sight uncase,
  He's naught but budge,[523] old gards, brown fox-fur face;
  He hath no soul the which the Stagyrite
  Term'd rational: for beastly appetite,
  Base dunghill thoughts, and sensual action,
  Hath made him lose that fair creation.
  And now no man, since Circe's magic charm                        70
  Hath turn'd him to a maggot that doth swarm
  In tainted flesh, whose foul corruption
  Is his fair food: whose generation
  Another's ruin. O Canaan's dread curse,
  To live in people's sins! Nay, far more worse,
  To muck rank hate! But, sirra Lynceus,
  Seest thou that troop that now effronteth us?
  They are naught but eels,[524] that never will appear
  Till that tempestuous winds or thunder tear
  Their slimy beds. But prithee stay a while;                      80
  Look, yon comes John-a-Noke and John-a-Stile;
  They are nought but slow-paced, dilatory pleas,
  Demure demurrers, still striving to appease
  Hot zealous love. The language that they speak
  Is the pure barbarous blacksaunt[525] of the Gete;
  Their only skill rests in collusions,
  Abatements, stoppels, inhibitions.
  Heavy-paced jades, dull-pated jobbernouls,
  Quick in delays, checking with vain controls
  Fair Justice' course; vile necessary evils,                      90
  Smooth-seeming saints, yet damn'd incarnate devils.
     Far be it from my sharp satiric muse,
  Those grave and reverent[526] legists to abuse,
  That aid Astræa, that do further right;
  But these Megeras that inflame despite,
  That broach deep rancour, that study still
  To ruin right, that they their paunch may fill
  With Irus' blood--these furies I do mean,
  These hedgehogs, that disturb Astrea's scene.
     A man, a man! Peace, Cynic, yon's a man;                     100
  Behold yon sprightly dread Mavortian;
  With him I stop thy currish barking chops.--
  What, mean'st thou him that in his swaggering slops
  Wallows unbracèd, all along the street;
  He that salutes each gallant he doth meet
  With "Farewell, sweet captain, kind heart, adieu;"
  He that last night, tumbling thou didst view
  From out the great man's head,[527] and thinking still
  He had been sentinel of warlike Brill,[528]
  Cries out, "Que va la? zounds, que?" and out doth draw          110
  His transform'd poniard, to a syringe straw,
  And stabs the drawer? What, that ringo-root![529]
  Mean'st thou that wasted leg, puff bumbast boot;
  What, he that's drawn and quarterèd with lace;
  That Wesphalian gammon clove-stuck[530] face?
  Why, he is nought but huge blaspheming oaths,
  Swart snout, big looks, misshapen Switzers'[531] clothes;
  Weak meagre lust hath now consumèd quite,
  And wasted clean away his martial sprite;
  Enfeebling riot, all vices' confluence,                         120
  Hath eaten out that sacred influence
  Which made him man.
  That divine part is soak'd away in sin,
  In sensual lust, and midnight bezelling,[532]
  Rank inundation of luxuriousness[533]
  Have tainted him with such gross beastliness,
  That now the seat of that celestial essence
  Is all possess'd with Naples' pestilence.[534]
  Fat peace, and dissolute impiety,
  Have lullèd him in such security,                               130
  That now, let whirlwinds and confusion tear
  The centre of our state; let giants' rear
  Hill upon hill; let western termagant
  Shake heaven's vault: he, with his occupant,[535]
  Are cling'd so close, like dew-worms in the morn,
  That he'll not stir till out his guts are torn
  With eating filth. Tubrio, snort on, snort on,
  Till thou art waked with sad confusion.
     Now rail no more at my sharp cynic sound,
  Thou brutish world, that in all vileness drown'd                140
  Hast lost thy soul: for nought but shades I see--
  Resemblances of men inhabit thee.
     Yon tissue slop, yon holy-crossèd pane,[536]
  Is but a water-spaniel that will fawn,
  And kiss the water, whilst it pleasures him;
  But being once arrivèd at the brim,
  He shakes it off.
  Yon in the cap'ring cloak, a mimic ape,
  That only strives to seem another's shape.
     Yon's Æsop's ass; yon sad civility                           150
  Is but an ox that with base drudgery
  Ears up the land, whilst some gilt ass doth chaw
  The golden wheat, he well apaid with straw.
     Yon's but a muckhill overspread with snow,
  Which with that veil doth even as fairly show
  As the green meads, whose native outward fair[537]
  Breathes sweet perfumes into the neighbour air.
     Yon effeminate sanguine Ganymede
  Is but a beaver,[538] hunted for the bed.
     Peace, Cynic; see, what yonder doth approach;                160
  A cart? a tumbrel? No, a badged[539] coach.
  What's in't? Some man. No, nor yet womankind,
  But a celestial angel, fair, refined.
  The devil as soon! Her mask so hinders me,
  I cannot see her beauty's deity.
  Now that is off, she is so vizarded,
  So steep'd in lemon's[540] juice, so surphulèd,
  I cannot see her face. Under one hood
  Two faces; but I never understood
  Or saw one face under two hoods till now:                       170
  'Tis the right resemblance of old Janus' brow.
  Her mask, her vizard, her loose-hanging gown
  (For her loose-lying body), her bright-spangled crown,
  Her long slit sleeve,[541] stiff busk, puff verdingal,
  Is all that makes her thus angelical.
  Alas! her soul struts round about her neck;
  Her seat of sense is her rebato[542] set;
  Her intellectual is a feignèd niceness,
  Nothing but clothes and simpering preciseness.
     Out on these puppets, painted images,                        180
  Haberdashers' shops, torchlight maskeries,
  Perfuming-pans, Dutch ancients,[543] glow-worms bright,
  That soil our souls, and damp our reason's light!
  Away, away, hence, coachman, go enshrine
  Thy new-glazed puppet in port Esquiline![544]
  Blush, Martia, fear not, or look pale, all's one;
  Margara keeps thy set complexion.
  Sure I ne'er think those axioms to be true,
  That souls of men from that great soul ensue,
  And of his essence do participate                               190
  As 'twere by pipes; when so degenerate,
  So adverse is our nature's motion
  To his immaculate condition,
  That such foul filth from such fair purity,
  Such sensual acts from such a Deity,
  Can ne'er proceed. But if that dream were so,
  Then sure the slime, that from our souls do flow,
  Have stopp'd those pipes by which it was convey'd,
  And now no human creatures, once disray'd
  Of that fair gem.                                               200
  Beasts' sense, plants' growth, like being as a stone;
  But out, alas! our cognisance is gone.


     [511] See note 2, vol. ii. p. 349.

     [512] Omitted in ed. 1598.

     [513] Samos--the birthplace of Pythagoras.

     [514] "Fictions ... rats of Nilus."--Cf. Shirley's _School of
     Compliment_, ii. 1:--"Sirrah clothes, _rat of Nilus,
     fiction_, monster, golden calf."

     [515] The name of a particular kind of stitch.

     [516] See note, vol. ii. p. 391.

     [517] See note 1, p. 308. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [429]]

     [518] Dung-cart.

     [519] Ed. 1599, "eminent."

     [520] Lose.

     [521] Omitted in ed. 1599.

     [522] _i.e._, whose garments are ornamented with _gards_ or
     fringes.

     [523] Lamb's fur.

     [524] Thunder is supposed to rouse eels from the mud. So
     Shakespeare--"Thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels." I
     suppose that Mr. Browning was giving us a piece of Italian
     folk-lore when he wrote (in _Old Pictures in Florence_):--
          "The morn _when first it thunders in March_,
          The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say."

     [525] A corruption of _black sanctus_, which seems to have been a
     burlesque hymn set to a harsh tune, "in ridicule of the _Sanctus_
     or Holy, Holy, Holy, of the Romish Missal" (Nares); hence used to
     express any discordant noise,--as the rude speech of the
     Scythians.

     [526] So ed. 1598; and I have kept the form "reverent" (though
     ed. 1599 reads "reverend"), as it was constantly used for
     "reverend."

     [527] "The great man's head"--evidently the name of a tavern.
     Quy. the Saracen's Head?

     [528] One of the cautionary towns pledged to the English crown by
     the States of Holland.

     [529] Sink of lechery.

     [530] His face, I suppose, is stuck with plaster, to lead people
     to imagine that he has been scarred in the wars.

     [531] Switzers--mercenary soldiers.

     [532] Tippling.

     [533] Lust.

     [534] The pox.

     [535] See note 2, p. 300. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [414]]

     [536] See note 2, vol. ii. p. 337.

     [537] Fairness.

     [538] "Rugs or covers were made of 'beever skins,' which Batman
     calls 'very precious.'"--_Grosart._

     [539] _i.e._, exhibiting armorial bearings.

     [540] In Guilpin's _Skialetheia_, 1598, there is a long list
     of cosmetics. Juice of lemons is mentioned:--
          "They [the gallants] were plain asses if they did not know
          Quicksilver, _juice of lemons_, borax too,
          Alum, oil tartar, whites of eggs, and galls.
          Are made the bawds to morphew, scurfs, and scalls."


     [541] So ed. 1598.--Ed. 1599 "sleeves."

     [542] See note 2, vol. 1. p. 31.

     [543] Ancient was the name for the (1) standard, (2) the
     standard-bearer. Here it has the first meaning; but I cannot find
     that Dutch standards were particularly tawdry.

     [544] "Port Esquiline"--the jakes.




                    PROEMIUM IN LIBRUM TERTIUM.


  In serious jest, and jesting seriousness,
  I strive to scourge polluting beastliness;
  I invocate no Delian deity,
  No sacred offspring of Mnemosyne;
  I pray in aid of no Castalian[545] muse,
  No nymph, no female angel, to infuse
  A sprightly wit to raise my flagging wings,
  And teach me tune these harsh discordant strings.
  I crave no sirens of our halcyon times,
  To grace the accents of my rough-hew'd rhymes;                   10
  But grim Reproof, stern hate of villainy,
  Inspire and guide a Satire's poesy.
  Fair Detestation of foul odious sin,
  In which our swinish times lie wallowing,
  Be thou my conduct and my genius,
  My wits-inciting sweet-breath'd Zephyrus.
  O that a Satire's hand had force to pluck
  Some floodgate up, to purge the world from muck!
  Would God I could turn Alpheus river in,
  To purge this Augean oxstall from foul sin!                      20
     Well, I will try; awake, Impurity,
     And view the veil drawn from thy villainy!


     [545] Ed. 1598 "Castalia."


                            SATIRE VIII.

                        _Inamorato, Curio._

  Curio, aye me! thy mistress' monkey's dead;
  Alas, alas, her pleasure's burièd!
  Go, woman's slave, perform his exequies,
  Condole his death in mournful elegies.
  Tut, rather pæans sing, hermaphrodite;
  For that sad death gives life to thy delight.
     Sweet-faced Corinna, deign the riband tie
  Of thy cork-shoe, or else thy slave will die:
  Some puling sonnet tolls his passing bell,
  Some sighing elegy must ring his knell,                          10
  Unless bright sunshine of thy grace revive
  His wambling stomach, certes he will dive
  Into the whirlpool of devouring death,
  And to some mermaid sacrifice his breath.
  Then oh, oh then, to thy eternal shame,
  And to the honour of sweet Curio's name,
  This epitaph, upon the marble stone,
  Must fair be graved of that true-loving one:

          "Here lieth he, he lieth here,
            That bounced and pity cried:                           20
          The door not oped, fell sick, alas,
            Alas, fell sick and died!"

  What Myrmidon, or hard Dolopian,
  What savage-minded rude Cyclopian,
  But such a sweet pathetic Paphian
  Would force to laughter? Ho, Amphitrion,
  Thou art no cuckold. What, though Jove dallièd,
  During thy wars, in fair Alcmena's bed,
  Yet Hercules, true born, that imbecility
  Of corrupt nature, all apparently                                30
  Appears in him. O foul indignity!
  I heard him vow himself a slave to Omphale,
  Puling "Aye me!" O valour's obloquy!
  He that the inmost nooks of hell did know,
  Whose ne'er-crazed[546] prowess all did overthrow,
  Lies streaking[547] brawny limbs in weak'ning bed;
  Perfumed, smooth-kemb'd, new glazed, fair surphulèd.
  O that the boundless power of the soul
  Should be subjected to such base control!
     Big-limb'd Alcides, doff thy honour's crown,                  40
  Go spin, huge slave, lest Omphale should frown.
  By my best hopes, I blush with grief and shame
  To broach the peasant baseness of our name.
     O, now my ruder hand begins to quake,
  To think what lofty cedars I must shake;
  But if the canker fret, the barks of oaks,
  Like humbler shrubs, shall equal bear the strokes
  Of my respectless rude satiric hand.
     Unless the Destin's adamantine band
  Should tie my teeth, I cannot choose, but bite,                  50
  To view Mavortius metamorphos'd quite,
  To puling sighs, and into "Aye me's" state,
  With voice distinct, all fine articulate,
  Lisping, "Fair saint, my woe compassionate;
  By heaven! thine eye is my soul-guiding fate."
     The god of wounds had wont on Cyprian couch
  To streak himself, and with incensing touch
  To faint his force, only when wrath had end;
  But now, 'mong furious garboils,[548] he doth spend
  His feebled valour, in tilt and tourneying,                      60
  With wet turn'd kisses, melting dallying.
  A pox upon't that Bacchis'[549] name should be
  The watchword given to the soldiery!
  Go, troop to field, mount thy obscurèd fame,
  Cry out St. George, invoke thy mistress' name;
  Thy mistress and St. George, alarum cry!
  Weak force, weak aid, that sprouts from luxury!
     Thou tedious[550] workmanship of lust-stung Jove,
  Down from thy skies, enjoy our females' love:
  Some fifty more Beotian girls will sue                           70
  To have thy love, so that thy back be true.
     O, now me thinks I hear swart Martius cry,
  Swooping[551] along in wars' feign'd maskery;
  By Lais' starry front he'll forthwith dye
  In clutter'd[552] blood, his mistress' livery;
  Her fancy's colours waves upon his head.
  O, well-fenced Albion, mainly manly sped,
  When those that are soldadoes[553] in thy state
  Do bear the badge of base, effeminate,
  Even on their plumy crests; brutes sensual,                      80
  Having no spark of intellectual!
  Alack! what hope, when some rank nasty wench
  Is subject of their vows and confidence?
     Publius hates vainly to idolatrise[554]
  And laughs that Papists honour images;
  And yet (O madness!) these mine eyes did see
  Him melt in moving plaints, obsequiously
  Imploring favour; twining his kind arms,
  Using enchantments, exorcisms, charms;
  The oil of sonnets, wanton blandishment,                         90
  The force of tears, and seeming languishment,
  Unto the picture of a painted lass!
  I saw him court his mistress' looking-glass,
  Worship a busk-point, which, in secresy,
  I fear was conscious of strange villainy;
  I saw him crouch, devote his livelihood,
  Swear, protest, vow peasant servitude
  Unto a painted puppet; to her eyes
  I heard him swear his sighs to sacrifice.
  But if he get her itch-allaying pin,                            100
  O sacred relic! straight he must begin
  To rave outright,--then thus: "Celestial bliss,
  Can Heaven grant so rich a grace as this?
  Touch it not (by the Lord! sir), 'tis divine!
  It once beheld her radiant eye's bright shine!
  Her hair embraced it. O thrice-happy prick,
  That there was throned, and in her hair didst stick!"
  Kiss, bless, adore it, Publius, never lin;
  Some sacred virtue lurketh in the pin.
     O frantic, fond, pathetic passion!                           110
  Is't possible such sensual action
  Should clip the wings of contemplation?
  O can it be the spirit's function,
  The soul, not subject to dimension,
  Should be made slave to reprehension
  Of crafty nature's paint? Fie! can our soul
  Be underling to such a vile control?
     Saturio wish'd himself his mistress' busk,
  That he might sweetly lie, and softly lusk[555]
  Between her paps; then must he have an eye                      120
  At either end, that freely might descry
  Both hills and dales. But, out on Phrigio,
  That wish'd he were his mistress' dog, to go
  And lick her milk-white fist! O pretty grace!
  That pretty Phrigio begs but Pretty's place.
  Parthenophil,[556] thy wish I will omit,
  So beastly 'tis I may not utter it.
  But Punicus, of all I'll bear with thee,
  That fain wouldst be thy mistress' smug monkey.
  Here's one would be a flea[557] (jest comical!);                130
  Another, his sweet lady's verdingal,
  To clip her tender breech; another, he
  Her silver-handled fan would gladly be;
  Here's one would be his mistress' necklace, fain
  To clip her fair, and kiss her azure vein.
  Fond fools, well wish'd, and pity but ['t] should be;
  For beastly shape to brutish souls agree.
     If Laura's painted lip do deign a kiss
  To her enamour'd slave, "O Heaven's bliss!"
  (Straight he exclaims) "not to be match'd with this!"
  Blaspheming dolt! go threescore sonnets write                   141
  Upon a picture's kiss, O raving sprite!
     I am not sapless, old, or rheumatic,
  No Hipponax, misshapen stigmatic,[558]
  That I should thus inveigh 'gainst amorous sprite
  Of him whose soul doth turn hermaphrodite;
  But I do sadly grieve, and inly vex,
  To view the base dishonour of our sex.
     Tush! guiltless doves, when gods, to force foul rapes,
  Will turn themselves to any brutish shapes;                     150
  Base bastard powers, whom the world doth see
  Transform'd to swine for sensual luxury!
  The son of Saturn is become a bull,
  To crop the beauties of some female trull.
  Now, when he hath his first wife Metis[559] sped,
  And fairly choked,[560] lest foul[561] gods should be bred
  Of that fond mule; Themis, his second wife,
  Hath turn'd away, that his unbridled life
  Might have more scope; yet, last, his sister's love
  Must satiate the lustful thoughts of Jove.                      160
  Now doth the lecher in a cuckold's shape,
  Commit a monstrous and incestuous rape.
  Thrice sacred gods! and O thrice blessèd skies,
  Whose orbs include such virtuous deities!
     What should I say? Lust hath confounded all;
  The bright gloss of our intellectual
  Is foully soil'd. The wanton wallowing
  In fond delights, and amorous dallying,
  Hath dusk'd the fairest splendour of our soul;
  Nothing now left but carcass, loathsome, foul;                  170
  For sure, if that some sprite remainèd still,
  Could it be subject to lewd Lais' will?
     Reason, by prudence in her function,
  Had wont to tutor all our action,
  Aiding, with precepts of philosophy,
  Our feeblèd natures' imbecility;
  But now affection, will, concupiscence,
  Have got o'er reason chief pre-eminence.
  'Tis so; else how should such vile baseness taint
  As force it be made slave to nature's paint?                    180
  Methinks the spirit's Pegase, Fantasy,
  Should hoise the soul from such base slavery;
  But now I see, and can right plainly show
  From whence such abject thoughts and actions grow.
     Our adverse body, being earthly, cold,
  Heavy, dull, mortal, would not long enfold
  A stranger inmate, that was backward still
  To all his dungy, brutish, sensual will:
  Now hereupon our intellectual,
  Compact of fire all celestial,                                  190
  Invisible, immortal, and divine,
  Grew straight to scorn his landlord's muddy slime;
  And therefore now is closely slunk away
  (Leaving his smoky house of mortal clay),
  Adorn'd with all his beauty's lineaments
  And brightest gems of shining ornaments,
  His parts divine, sacred, spiritual,
  Attending on him; leaving the sensual
  Base hangers-on lusking at home in slime,
  Such as wont to stop port Esquiline.[562]                       200
  Now doth the body, led with senseless will
  (The which, in reason's absence, ruleth still),
  Rave, talk idly, as 'twere some deity,
  Adoring[563] female painted puppetry;
  Playing at put-pin,[564] doting on some glass
  (Which, breath'd but on, his falsèd gloss doth pass);
  Toying with babies,[565] and with fond pastime,
  Some children's sport, deflow'ring of chaste time;
  Employing all his wits in vain expense,
  Abusing all his organons of sense.                              210
     Return, return, sacred Synderesis!
  Inspire our trunks! Let not such mud as this
  Pollute us still. Awake our lethargy,
  Raise us from out our brain-sick foolery!


     [546] Broken, cracked, impaired.

     [547] Stretching.

     [548] "Garboil"--tumult, commotion.

     [549] The name of a Terentian _meretrix_.

     [550] Jupiter made the night of thrice its ordinary length when
     he begot Hercules.

     [551] Old eds. "Souping."

     [552] Clotted.

     [553] Soldiers (_Span._).

     [554] Old eds. "idolatries."

     [555] See note 1, p. 335. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [485]]

     [556] An allusion to the closing lines of Barnabe Barnes'
     sixty-third sonnet.

     [557] Donne has some verses _On a Flea on his Mistress' Bosom_,
     beginning:--
       "Madam, that flea which crept between your breast
        I envied that there he should make his rest."

     Whether these verses of Donne had been written (and circulated in
     MS.) so early, I do not know; but the conceit was certainly out
     of the common.

     [558] A deformed person; literally, one who has been branded with
     a hot iron. The very words "_misshapen stigmatic_" occur in
     3 _Henry VI._, ii. 2. (The Greek satirist Hipponax was an
     ill-looking fellow.)

     [559] Old eds. "Metim."

     [560] When Jupiter discovered that he had got Metis with child,
     he swallowed her; for it had been foretold that he would be
     dethroned if Metis had a son.--Apollod. _Bibl._ i. 6.

     [561] Old eds. "foole."

     [562] See note 4, p. 351. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [544]]

     [563] So ed. 1598.--Ed. 1599 "adorning."--The confusion between
     "adore" and "adorn" is common.

     [564] Commonly called "push-pin," a childish game described by
     Strutt.

     [565] Children's toys,--particularly dolls.


                             SATIRE IX.

            _Here's_[566] _a Toy to mock an Ape indeed._

  Grim-faced Reproof, sparkle with threatening eye!
  Bend thy sour brows in my tart poesy!
  Avaunt! ye curs, howl in some cloudy mist,
  Quake to behold a sharp-fang'd satirist!
  O how on tip-toes proudly mounts my muse!
  Stalking a loftier gait than satires use.
  Methinks some sacred rage warms all my veins,
  Making my sprite mount up to higher strains
  Than well beseems a rough-tongu'd satire's part;
  But Art curbs Nature, Nature guideth[567] Art.                   10
     Come down, ye apes, or I will strip you quite,
  Baring your bald tails to the people's sight!
  Ye mimic slaves, what, are you perch'd so high?
  Down, Jackanapes, from thy feign'd royalty!
  What! furr'd with beard--cast in a satin suit,
  Judicial Jack? How hast thou got repute
  Of a sound censure? O idiot times,
  When gaudy monkeys mow o'er spritely rhymes!
  O world of fools! when all men's judgment's set,
  And rests[568] upon some mumping marmoset!                       20
  Yon Athens' ape (that can but simp'ringly
  Yaul "_Auditores humanissimi!_"
  Bound to some servile imitation,
  Can, with much sweat, patch an oration)
  Now up he comes, and with his crookèd eye
  Presumes to squint on some fair poesy;
  And all as thankless as ungrateful Thames,
  He slinks away, leaving but reeking steams
  Of dungy slime behind. All as ingrate
  He useth it as when I satiate                                    30
  My spaniel's paunch, who straight perfumes the room
  With his tail's filth: so this uncivil groom,
  Ill-tutor'd pedant, Mortimer's[569] numbers
  With muck-pit Esculine filth bescumbers.[570]
  Now the ape chatters, and is as malcontent
  As a bill-patch'd door, whose entrails out have sent
  And spewed their tenant.
     My soul adores judicial scholarship;
  But when to servile imitatorship
  Some spruce Athenian pen is prenticèd,                           40
  'Tis worse than apish. Fie! be not flatterèd
  With seeming worth! Fond affectation
  Befits an ape, and mumping babion.[571]
  O what a tricksy, learnèd, nicking strain
  Is this applauded, senseless, modern vein![572]
  When late I heard it from sage Mutius' lips,
  How ill, methought, such wanton jigging skips
  Beseem'd his graver speech. "Far fly thy fame,
  Most, most of me beloved! whose silent name
  One letter bounds. Thy true judicial style                       50
  I ever honour; and, if my love beguile
  Not much my hopes, then thy unvalued worth
  Shall mount fair place, when apes are turnèd forth."
     I am too mild. Reach me my scourge again;
  O yon's a pen speaks in a learned vein,
  Deep, past all sense. Lanthorn and candle-light![573]
  Here's all invisible--all mental sprite!
  What hotch-potch gibberidge doth the poet bring?
  How strangely speaks, yet sweetly doth he sing?
  I once did know a tinkling pewterer,                             60
  That was the vilest stumbling stutterer
  That ever hack'd and hew'd our native tongue,
  Yet to the lute if you had heard him sung,
  Jesu! how sweet he breath'd! You can apply.
  O senseless prose, judicial poesy,
  How ill you're link'd! This affectation,
  To speak beyond men's apprehension,
  How apish 'tis, when all in fustian suit
  Is cloth'd a huge nothing, all for repute
  Of profound knowledge, when profoundness knows                   70
  There's naught contain'd but only seeming shows!
     Old Jack of Paris-garden, canst thou get
  A fair rich suit, though foully run in debt?
  Look smug, smell sweet, take up commodities,[574]
  Keep whores, fee bawds, belch impious blasphemies,
  Wallow along in swaggering disguise,
  Snuff up smoke-whiffs, and each morn, 'fore she rise,
  Visit thy drab? Canst use a false-cut die
  With a clean grace and glib facility?
  Canst thunder cannon-oaths, like th' rattling                    80
  Of a huge, double, full-charg'd culvering?[575]
  Then Jack, troop 'mong our gallants, kiss thy fist,
  And call them brothers; say a satirist
  Swears they are thine in near affinity,
  All cousin-germans, save in villainy;
  For (sadly, truth to say) what are they else
  But imitators of lewd beastliness?
  Far worse than apes; for mow or scratch your pate,
  It may be some odd ape will imitate;
  But let a youth that hath abused his time                        90
  In wrongèd travel, in that hotter clime,
  Swoop by old Jack, in clothes Italianate,
  And I'll be hang'd if he will imitate
  His strange fantastic suit-shapes:
  Or let him bring o'er beastly luxuries,
  Some hell-devisèd lustful villanies,
  Even apes and beasts would blush with native shame,
  And think it foul dishonour to their name,
  Their beastly name, to imitate such sin
  As our lewd youths do boast and glory in.                       100
     Fie! whither do these monkeys carry me?
  Their very names do soil my poesy.
  Thou world of marmosets and mumping apes,
  Unmask, put off thy feignèd, borrowed shapes!
  Why looks neat Curus all so simp'ringly?
  Why babblest thou of deep divinity,
  And of that sacred testimonial,
  Living voluptuous like a bacchanal?
  Good hath thy tongue; but thou, rank Puritan,
  I'll make an ape as good a Christian;                           110
  I'll force him chatter, turning up his eye,
  Look sad, go grave; demure civility
  Shall seem to say, "Good brother, sister dear!"
  As for the rest, to snort in belly-cheer,[576]
  To bite, to gnaw, and boldly intermel
  With sacred things, in which thou dost excel,
  Unforced he'll do. O take compassion
  Even on your souls! Make not Religion
  A bawd to lewdness. Civil Socrates,
  Clip not the youth of Alcibiades                                120
  With unchaste arms. Disguisèd Messaline,
  I'll tear thy mask, and bare thee to the eyn
  Of hissing boys, if to the theatres
  I find thee once more come for lecherers,
  To satiate (nay, to tire) thee with the use
  Of weak'ning lust. Ye feigners, leave t' abuse
  Our better thoughts with your hypocrisy;
  Or, by the ever-living verity!
  I'll strip you nak'd, and whip you with my rhymes,
  Causing your shame to live to after-times.                      130


     [566] An old proverbial saying.

     [567] Ed. 1598 "guildeth."

     [568] Ed. 1599 "rest."

     [569] The allusion is to Drayton's _Mortimeriados_ originally
     published in 1596 (and republished in 1603, with many
     alterations, under the title of the _Baron's Wars_).

     [570] Befouls. The word is ridiculed in _The Poetaster_.

     [571] Baboon.--Old eds. "Babilon."

     [572] "Non lædere, sed ludere: non lanea, sed linea: non ictus,
     sed nictus potius."--Marginal note in old eds.

     [573] See note, vol. i. p. 35.

     [574] Get goods on credit.

     [575] A piece of ordnance.

     [576] Gluttony.--The word is not uncommon.


                             SATIRE X.[577]

                             _Satira Nova._

                   _Stultorum plena sunt omnia._

                  TO HIS VERY FRIEND, MASTER E. G.

  From out the sadness of my discontent,
  Hating my wonted jocund merriment
  (Only to give dull time a swifter wing),
  Thus scorning scorn, of idiot fools I sing.
  I dread no bending of an angry brow,
  Or rage of fools that I shall purchase now;
  Who'll scorn to sit in rank of foolery,
  When I'll be master of the company?
  For prithee, Ned, I prithee, gentle lad,
  Is not he frantic, foolish, bedlam mad,                          10
  That wastes his sprite, that melts his very brain
  In deep designs, in wit's dark gloomy strain?
  That scourgeth great slaves with a dreadless fist,
  Playing the rough part of a satirist,
  To be perused by all the dung-scum rabble
  Of thin-brain'd idiots, dull, incapable,
  For mimic apish scholars, pedants, gulls,
  Perfumed inamoratos, brothel-trulls?
  Whilst I (poor soul) abuse chaste virgin time,
  Deflow'ring her with unconceived rhyme.                          20
  "Tut, tut; a toy of an idle empty brain,
  Some scurril jests, light gewgaws, fruitless, vain,"
  Cries beard-grave Dromus; when, alas! God knows
  His toothless gums ne'er chaw but outward shows.
  Poor budge-face,[578] bowcase sleeve: but let him pass;
  "Once fur and beard shall privilege an ass."
     And tell me, Ned, what might that gallant be,
  Who, to obtain intemperate luxury,
  Cuckolds his elder brother, gets an heir,
  By which his hope is turnèd to despair?                          30
  In faith (good Ned), he damn'd himself with cost;
  For well thou know'st full goodly land was lost.
     I am too private. Yet methinks an ass
  Rhymes well with _viderit utilitas_;
  Even full as well, I boldly dare aver,
  As any of that stinking scavenger
  Which from his dunghill be dedaubèd on
  The latter page of old _Pygmalion_.
  O that this brother of hypocrisy
  (Applauded by his pure fraternity)                               40
  Should thus be puffèd, and so proud insist
  As play on me the epigrammatist!
  "Opinion mounts this froth unto the skies,
  Whom judgment's reason justly vilifies."
  For (shame to the poet) read, Ned, behold
  How wittily a master's hood can scold!

  _An_ EPIGRAM _which the_ Author Vergidemiarum _caused to be pasted
     to the latter page of every_ Pygmalion _that came to the
     Stationers of Cambridge_.

  _I ask'd Physicians what their counsel was_
  _For a mad dog, or for a mankind ass?_
  _They told me, though there were confections' store_
  _Of poppy-seed and sovereign hellebore,_                         50
  _The dog was best cured by cutting and kinsing,_[579]
  _The ass must be kindly whipped for winsing._
  _Now then, S. K., I little pass._
  _Whether thou be a mad dog or a mankind ass._

  Smart[580] jerk of wit! Did ever such a strain
  Rise from an apish schoolboy's childish brain?
  Dost thou not blush, good Ned, that such a scent
  Should rise from thence, where thou hadst nutriment?
  "Shame to Opinion, that perfumes his dung,
  And streweth flowers rotten bones among!                         60
  Juggling Opinion, thou enchanting witch!
  Paint not a rotten post[581] with colours rich."
  But now this juggler, with the world's consent,
  Hath half his[582] soul; the other, compliment;
  Mad world the whilst. But I forget me, I,
  I am seducèd with this poesy,
  And, madder than a bedlam, spend sweet time
  In bitter numbers, in this idle rhyme.
  Out on this humour! From a sickly bed,
  And from a moody mind distemperèd,                               70
  I vomit forth my love, now turn'd to hate,
  Scorning the honour of a poet's state.
  Nor shall the kennel rout of muddy brains
  Ravish my muse's heir, or hear my strains,
  Once more. No nitty[583] pedant shall correct
  Enigmas to his shallow intellect
  Enchantment, Ned, have ravishèd my sense
  In a poetic vain circumference.
  Yet thus I hope (God shield I now should lie),
  Many more fools, and most more wise than I.                      80
                                                 VALE.


     [577] This satire was added in ed. 1599.--I suspect that "Master
     E. G." was Edward Guilpin, author of _Skialetheia_, 1598, a
     collection of epigrams.

     [578] See note 6, p. 346. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [523]]

     [579] "Mark the witty allusion to my name."--Marginal note in old
     ed. (See Introduction to vol. i.)

     [580] The heading of the page in old ed. is changed from
     "_Stultorum plena sunt omnia_" to "_Medice cura
     tripsum_."

     [581] An allusion to the posts that stood at the doors of
     sheriffs. These posts were repainted when new sheriffs came into
     office.--Middleton, v. 149.

     [582] _i.e._, the world's.

     [583] Lousy.


                             SATIRE XI.

                             _Humours._

  Sleep, grim Reproof; my jocund muse doth sing
  In other keys, to nimbler fingering.
  Dull-sprighted Melancholy, leave my brain--
  To hell,[584] Cimmerian night! in lively vein
  I strive to paint, then hence all dark intent
  And sullen frowns! Come, sporting Merriment,
  Cheek-dimpling Laughter, crown my very soul
  With jouisance, whilst mirthful jests control
  The gouty humours of these pride-swoll'n days,
  Which I do long until my pen displays.                           10
  O, I am great with Mirth! some midwif'ry,
  Or I shall break my sides at vanity.
  Room for a capering mouth, whose lips ne'er stir
  But in discoursing of the graceful slur.[585]
  Who ever heard spruce skipping Curio
  E'er prate of ought but of the whirl on toe,
  The turn-above-ground, Robrus' sprawling kicks,
  Fabius' caper, Harry's tossing tricks?
  Did ever any ear e'er hear him speak
  Unless his tongue of cross-points did entreat?                   20
  His teeth do caper whilst he eats his meat,
  His heels do caper whilst he takes his seat;
  His very soul, his intellectual
  Is nothing but a mincing capreal.[586]
  He dreams of toe-turns; each gallant he doth meet
  He fronts him with a traverse in the street.
  Praise but Orchestra,[587] and the skipping art,
  You shall command him, faith you have his heart
  Even cap'ring in your fist. A hall, a hall![588]
  Room for the spheres, the orbs celestial                         30
  Will dance Kempe's[589] jig: they'll revel with neat jumps;
  A worthy poet hath put on their pumps.
  O wit's quick traverse, but _sance ceo's_ [?] slow;
  Good faith 'tis hard for nimble Curio.
  "Ye gracious orbs, keep the old measuring;
  All's spoil'd if once ye fall to capering."
     Luscus, what's play'd to-day? Faith now I know
  I set thy lips abroach, from whence doth flow
  Naught but pure Juliet and Romeo.
  Say who acts best? Drusus or Roscio?                             40
  Now I have him, that ne'er of ought did speak
  But when of plays or players he did treat--
  Hath made a common-place[590] book out of plays,
  And speaks in print: at least what e'er he says
  Is warranted by Curtain plaudities.
  If e'er you heard him courting Lesbia's eyes,
  Say (courteous sir), speaks he not movingly,
  From out some new pathetic tragedy?
  He writes, he rails, he jests, he courts (what not?),
  And all from out his huge long-scraped stock                     50
  Of well-penn'd plays.
     Oh come not within distance! Martius speaks,
  Who ne'er discourseth but of fencing feats,
  Of _counter times_,[591] _finctures_, sly _passatas_,
  _Stramazones_, resolute _stoccatas_,
  Of the quick change with wiping _mandritta_,
  The _carricada_, with the _embrocata_.
     "Oh, by Jesu, sir!" methinks I hear him cry,
  "The honourable fencing mystery
  Who doth not honour?" Then falls he in again,                    60
  Jading our ears, and somewhat must be sain
  Of blades and rapier-hilts, of surest guard,
  Of Vincentio,[592] and the Burgonian's ward.[593]
     This bombast foil-button I once did see,
  By chance, in Livia's modest company;
  When, after the god-saving ceremony,
  For want of talk-stuff, falls to foinery;
  Out goes his rapier, and to Livia
  He shows the ward by _puncta reversa_,
  The _incarnata_. Nay, by the blessed light!                      70
  Before he goes, he'll teach her how to fight
  And hold her weapon. Oh I laugh amain,
  To see the madness of this Martius' vein!
     But room for Tuscus, that jest-mounging youth
  Who ne'er did ope his apish gerning mouth
  But to retail and broke another's wit
  Discourse of what you will, he straight can fit
  Your present talk, with "Sir, I'll tell a jest"
  (Of some sweet lady, or grand lord at least).
  Then on he goes, and ne'er his tongue shall lie                  80
  Till his engrossèd jests are all drawn dry;
  But then as dumb as Maurus, when at play
  Hath lost his crowns, and pawn'd his trim array.
  He doth nought but retail jests: break but one,
  Out flies his table-book; let him alone,
  He'll have it i'faith. Lad, hast an epigram,
  Wilt have it put into the chaps of fame?
  Give Tuscus copies; sooth, as his own wit
  (His proper issue) he will father it.
  O that this echo, that doth seek, spet, write                    90
  Nought but the excrements of others sprite,
  This ill-stuff'd trunk of jests (whose very soul
  Is but a heap of gibes) should once enroll
  His name 'mong creatures termed rational!
  Whose chief repute, whose sense, whose soul and all
  Are fed with offal scraps, that sometimes fall
  From liberal wits in their large festival.
     Come aloft, Jack! room for a vaulting skip,
  Room for Torquatus, that ne'er oped his lip
  But in prate of _pommado reversa_,[594]                         100
  Of the nimble, tumbling Angelica.
  Now, on my soul, his very intellect
  Is nought but a curvetting sommerset.
     "Hush, hush," cries honest Philo, "peace, desist!
  Dost thou not tremble, sour satirist,
  Now that[595] judicial Musus readeth thee?
  He'll whip each line, he'll scourge thy balladry,
  Good faith he will." Philo, I prithee stay
  Whilst I the humour of this dog display.
  He's nought but censure; wilt thou credit me,                   110
  He never writ one line in poesy,
  But once at Athens in a theme did frame
  A paradox in praise of virtue's name;
  Which still he hugs and lulls as tenderly
  As cuckold Tisus his wife's bastardy?
  Well, here's a challenge: I flatly say he lies
  That heard him ought but censure poesies;
  'Tis his discourse, first having knit the brow,
  Stroke up his fore-top, champèd every row,
  Belcheth his slavering censure on each book                     120
  That dare presume even on Medusa look.
     I have no artist's skill in symphonies,
  Yet when some pleasing diapason flies
  From out the belly of a sweet-touch'd lute,
  My ears dare[596] say 'tis good: or when they suit
  Some harsher sevens for variety,
  My native skill discerns it presently.
  What then? Will any sottish dolt repute,
  Or ever think me Orpheus absolute?
  Shall all the world of fidlers follow me,                       130
  Relying on my voice in musickry?
     Musus, here's Rhodes; let's see thy boasted leap,
  Or else avaunt, lewd cur, presume not speak,
  Or with thy venom-sputtering chaps to bark
  Gainst well-penn'd poems, in the tongue-tied dark.
     O for a humour, look, who yon doth go,
  The meagre lecher, lewd Luxurio!
  'Tis he that hath the sole monopoly,
  By patent, of the suburb lechery;
  No new edition of drabs comes out,                              140
  But seen and allow'd by Luxurio's snout.
  Did ever any man e'er hear him talk,
  But of Pick-hatch,[597] or of some Shoreditch balk,
  Aretine's filth, or of his wand'ring whore;[598]
  Of some Cinædian, or of Tacedore;
  Of Ruscus' nasty, loathsome brothel rhyme,
  That stinks like A-jax[599] froth, or muck-pit slime?
  The news he tells you is of some new flesh,
  Lately broke up, span new, hot piping fresh.
  The courtesy he shows you is some morn                          150
  To give you Venus 'fore her[600] smock be on.
  His eyes, his tongue, his soul, his all, is lust,
  Which vengeance and confusion follow must.
  Out on this salt humour, letcher's dropsy,
  Fie! it doth soil my chaster poesy!
     O spruce! How now, Piso, Aurelius' ape,
  What strange disguise, what new deformèd shape,
  Doth hold thy thoughts in contemplation?
  Faith say, what fashion art thou thinking on?
  A stitch'd taffeta cloak, a pair of slops                       160
  Of Spanish leather? O, who heard his chops
  E'er chew of ought but of some strange disguise?
  This fashion-monger, each morn 'fore he rise,
  Contemplates suit-shapes, and once from out his bed,
  He hath them straight full lively portrayèd.
  And then he chucks, and is as proud of this
  As Taphus when he got his neighbour's bliss.
  All fashions, since the first year of this queen,
  May in his study fairly drawn be seen;
  And all that shall be to his day of doom;                       170
  You may peruse within that little room;
  For not a fashion once dare show his face,
  But from neat Piso first must take his grace:
  The long fool's coat, the huge slop, the lugg'd[601] boot,
  From mimic Piso all do claim their root.
  O that the boundless power of the soul
  Should be coop'd up in fashioning some roll!
     But O, Suffenus! (that doth hug, embrace
  His proper self, admires his own sweet face;
  Praiseth his own fair limbs' proportion,                        180
  Kisseth his shade, recounteth all alone
  His own good parts) who envies him? Not I,
  For well he may, without all rivalry.
     Fie! whither's fled my sprite's alacrity?
  How dull I vent this humorous poesy!
  In faith I am sad, I am possess'd with ruth,
  To see the vainness of fair Albion's youth;
  To see their richest time even wholly spent
  In that which is but gentry's ornament;
  Which, being meanly done, becomes them well;                    190
  But when with dear time's loss they do excell,
  How ill they do things well! To dance and sing,
  To vault, to fence, and fairly trot[602] a ring
  With good grace, meanly done, O what repute
  They do beget! But being absolute,
  It argues too much time, too much regard
  Employ'd in that which might be better spar'd
  Than substance should be lost. If one should sue
  For Lesbia's love, having two days to woo,
  And not one more, and should employ those twain                 200
  The favour of her waiting-wench to gain,
  Were he not mad? Your apprehension,
  Your wits are quick in application.
  Gallants,
  Methinks your souls should grudge and inly scorn
  To be made slaves[603] to humours that are born
  In slime of filthy sensuality.
  That part not subject to mortality
  (Boundless, discursive apprehension
  Giving it wings to act his function),                           210
  Methinks should murmur when you stop his course,
  And soil his beauties in some beastly source
  Of brutish pleasures; but it is so poor,
  So weak, so hunger-bitten, evermore
  Kept from his food, meagre for want of meat,
  Scorn'd and rejected, thrust from out his seat,
  Upbraid[604] by capons' grease, consumèd quite
  By eating stews, that waste the better sprite,
  Snibb'd[605] by his baser parts, that now poor soul
  (Thus peasanted to each lewd thought's control)                 220
  Hath lost all heart, bearing all injuries,
  The utmost spite and rank'st indignities,
  With forcèd willingness; taking great joy,
  If you will deign his faculties employ
  But in the mean'st ingenious quality.
  (How proud he'll be of any dignity!)
  Put it to music, dancing, fencing-school,
  Lord, how I laugh to hear the pretty fool,
  How it will prate! His tongue shall never lie,
  But still discourse of his spruce quality,                      230
  Egging his master to proceed from this,
  And get the substance of celestial bliss.
  His lord straight calls his parliament of sense;
  But still the sensual have pre-eminence.
  The poor soul's better part so feeble is,
  So cold and dead is his Synderesis,
  "That shadows, by odd chance, sometimes are got;
  But O the substance is respected not!"
  Here ends my rage. Though angry brow was bent,
  Yet I have sung in sporting merriment.                          240


     [584] _i.e._ "Melancholy, get you to hell!"

     [585] Seemingly a term for some sliding dance-movement.

     [586] "Intellectual ... mincing capreal."--These words are
     ridiculed by Ben Jonson in _Every Man out of his Humour_,
     iii. 1. See Introduction, vol. i.

     [587] Sir John Davies' excellent poem.

     [588] "A hall, a hall!"--The cry raised when an open space was
     wanted for the dancers.

     [589] There is no allusion to Will Kempe's famous dance from
     London to Norwich, as that feat was performed in 1600. _Kempe's
     jig_ was the name of a popular dance; and there was a ballad
     that bore the same title.

     [590] So in the Induction to the _Malcontent_:--"I am one
     that hath seen this play often: I have most of the jests here in
     my table-book."--Dekker, in the _Gull's-Horn Book_, advises
     a gallant to "hoard up the finest play-scraps you can get, upon
     which your lean wit may most savourly feed for want of other
     stuff, when the Arcadian and Euphuized gentlewomen have their
     tongues sharpened to set upon you!"

     [591] The italicised words are technical terms in fencing. I
     cannot find the term _finctures_, but it doubtless has the
     meaning _feints_(otherwise called _falses_).

     [592] The reference is to Vincentio Saviolo, a famous Italian
     master of fence, author of _Vincentio Saviolo his Practise in
     two Bookes. The first intreating of the use of the Rapier and
     Dagger. The Second of Honor and Honorable Quarrels_, 1595,
     4to.

     [593] In _Every Man in his Humour_ Cob speaks of Bobadil as
     a "_Burgullian_ fencer"; and Dekker in the Preface to
     _Satiromastix_ says that "Horace [Jonson] questionless made
     himself believe that his _Burgonian_ wit might desperately
     challenge all comers, and that none durst take up the foils
     against him." In each case the allusion is to the Bastard of
     Burgundy who was overthrown at Smithfield in 1467 by Anthony
     Woodville. There is doubtless the same allusion in the present
     passage.

     [594] The _pommado_ was the vaulting on a horse (without
     touching the stirrups) and the _pommado reversa_ was the
     vaulting off again.

     [595] Omitted in ed. 1598.

     [596] Ed. 1598 "dares."

     [597] Pick-hatch (in Clerkenwell) and Shoreditch were the
     head-quarters of whores.

     [598] _Puttana Errante_ is the title of a poem (by Lorenzo
     Veniero) falsely ascribed to Aretino. The same title was
     sometimes given to _Dialoghi di Rosana e Ginevra_. See
     Preface to vol. i. of _Les Ragionamenti ou Dialogues du divin
     Pietro Aretino_, Paris, 1882.

     [599] (1) Ajax; (2) A jakes.--The joke is of constant occurrence.

     [600] Ed. 1599 "his."

     [601] _i.e._, with long ears, or tags.

     [602] "Trot a ring."--See note 1, vol. i. p. 111.

     [603] Ed. 1598 "slave."

     [604] "Remors de l'estromac, _The upbraiding of the
     stomacke_."--_Cotgrave._

     [605] Snubbed.


                   TO EVERLASTING OBLIVION.[606]

  Thou mighty gulf, insatiate cormorant!
  Deride me not, though I seem petulant
     To fall into thy chops. Let others pray
     For ever their fair poems flourish may;
  But as for me, hungry Oblivion,
  Devour me quick, accept my orison,
     My earnest prayers, which do importune thee,
     With gloomy shade of thy still empery,
     To veil both me and my rude poesy.
  Far worthier lines, in silence of thy state,                     10
  Do sleep securely, free from love or hate;
  From which this living ne'er can be exempt,
  But whilst it breathes will hate and fury tempt:
  Then close his eyes with thy all-dimming hand,
  Which not right glorious actions can withstand.
  Peace, hateful tongues, I now in silence pace,
  Unless some hound do wake me from my place,
     I with this sharp, yet well-meant poesy,
     Will sleep secure, right free from injury
     Of canker'd hate, or rankest villainy.                           20


     [606] Compare "The Author's Charge to his Satires" prefixed to
     Hall's _Virgedemiarum, The three last Books_.


                    TO HIM THAT HATH PERUSED ME.

Gentle or ungentle hand that holdest me, let not thine eye be cast
upon privateness, for I protest I glance not on it. If thou hast
perused me, what lesser favour canst thou grant than not to abuse me
with unjust application? Yet, I fear me, I shall be much, much
injuried[607] by two sorts of readers: the one being ignorant, not
knowing the nature of a satire (which is, under feigned private names
to note general vices), will needs wrest each feigned name to a
private unfeigned person: the other, too subtile, bearing a private
malice to some greater personage than he dare, in his own person, seem
to malign, will strive, by a forced application of my general
reproofs, to broach his private hatred,--than the which I know not a
greater injury can be offered to a satirist. I durst presume, knew
they how guiltless and how free I were from prying into privateness,
they would blush to think how much they wrong themselves in seeking to
injure me. Let this protestation satisfy our curious searchers; so may
I obtain my best hopes, as I am free from endeavouring to blast any
private man's good name. If any one (forced with his own guilt) will
turn it home and say, "'Tis I," I cannot hinder him; neither do I
injure him. For other faults of poesy, I crave no[608] pardon, in that
I scorn all penance the bitterest censurer can impose upon me. Thus
(wishing each man to leave inquiring whom I am, and learn to know
himself) I take a solemn congee of this fusty world.

                                                        THERIOMASTIX.


     [607] The verb _injury_ is frequently found.

     [608] Ed. 1598 "me."




                           ENTERTAINMENT

                                  OF

                     ALICE, DOWAGER-COUNTESS OF
                                DERBY.




  _The noble Lorde & Lady of Huntingdons Entertainement of theire
     right Noble Mother Alice: Countesse Dowager of Darby the first
     night of her honors arrivall att the house of Ashby._

The MS. of this Entertainment is preserved at Bridgewater House.
Extracts were printed in Halliwell's _Marston_, vol. iii.; but the
Entertainment was first printed in full by Dr. Grosart. I have not
seen the MS.: it seemed unnecessary to go over the ground again, for
Dr. Grosart's transcript was evidently made with great care.[609] "The
MS.," he observes, "fills fifteen leaves. The first leaf, which
contains the address to the dowager-duchess of Derby, and leaves
fourteen and fifteen, which contain the 'Epilogue' (never before
printed), are in Marston's own handwriting. The rest of the MS. is in
two hands.... Throughout the MS. there are several corrections made in
a darker ink, and apparently by Marston himself. On leaf two is a
small blank space and the following words by Marston: 'as this lame
figure demonstrates'--a sketch being evidently intended. But, spite of
the author's supervision, various mistakes of the scribe are left."


     [609] At the close of his Introduction to Hall's _Satires_,
     Dr. Grosart corrects a few errors that had crept into his
     transcript of Marston's Entertainment. These corrections I have
     silently adopted.




                               TO THE

                      RIGHT NOBLE LADY ALICE,

                     COUNTESS-DOWAGER OF DERBY.


  MADAM,
    If my slight Muse may suit your noble merit,
    My hopes are crown'd, and I shall cheer my spirit;
    But if my weak quill droops or seems unfit,
   'Tis not your want of worth, but mine of wit.
          The servant of your honour'd virtues,
                                              JOHN MARSTON.


When her Ladyship approached the Park corner, a full noise of cornets
winded; and when she entered into the Park, treble cornets reported
one to another, as giving warning of her Honour's nearer approach;
when presently her eye was saluted with an antique gate, which
suddenly was erected in this form. Upon the gate did hang many silver
scrolls with this word in them, _Tantum uni_. Upon the battlements
over the gate three gilt shields in diamond-figure, impaled on the top
with three coronets purfled with gold, and severally inscribed with
silver words; in the first shield, _Venisti tandem_; in the second,
_Nostra sera_; in the third, _Et sola voluptas_. Over these, upon a
half sphere, stood embossed an antique figure gilt; the slight
tower[s] to this gate, which were only raised for show, were set out
with battlements, shields, and coronets suitable to the rest. When the
Countess came near the gate an old enchantress in crimson velvet, with
pale face, black hair, and disliking countenance, affronted her
Ladyship, and thus rudely saluted her:--

  Woman, Lady, Princess, Nymph, or Goddess,
  For more you are not, and you seem no less;
  Stay, and attempt not passage through this port,
  Here the pale Lord of Sadness keep[s] his court,
  Rough-visag'd Saturn, on whose bloodless cheeks,
  Dull Melancholy sits, who straightly seeks
  To seize on all that enter through this gate.
  Grant gracious listening, and I shall relate
  The means, the manner, and of all the sense,
  Whilst your fair eye enforceth eloquence.
  There was a time (and since that time the sun
  Hath not yet through nine signs of heaven run)
  When the high Sylvan, that commands these woods,
  And his bright Nymph, fairer than Queen of Floods,
  With most impatient longings hoped to view
  Her face to whom their hearts' dear'st zeal was due.
  Youth's joys to love, sweet light unto the blind,
  Beauty to virgins, or what wit can find
  Most dearly wished, was not so much desired
  As she to them; O my dull soul is fired
  To tell their longings, but it is a piece
  That would o'erload the famous tongues of Greece.
  Yet long they hop'd, till Rumour struck Hope dead,
  And showed their wishes were but flatterèd;
  For scarce her chariot cut the easy earth,
  And journeyed on, when Winter with cold breath
  Crosseth her way, her borrowed hair doth shine
  With glittering icicles all crystalline;
  Her brows were periwigg'd with softer snow,
  Her russet mantle, fringed with ice below,
  Sat[610] stiffly on her back; she thus came forth,
  Ushered with tempest of the frosty North;
  And seeing her, she thought she sure had seen
  The sweet-breath'd Flora, the bright Summer's Queen.
  So full of cheerful grace she did appear,
  That Winter feared her face recalled the year,
  And forced untimely springs to seize her right,
  Whereat with anger and malicious spite
  She vows revenge; straight with tempestuous wings,
  From Taurus, Alps, and Scythian rocks she flings
  Their covering off, and here their thick fur spread,
  That patient earth was almost smotherèd.
  Up Boreas mounts, and doth so strongly blow
  Athwart her way huge drifts of blinding snow,
  That mountain-like, at length heaps rose so high,
  Man's sight might doubt whether Heaven or Earth were sky.
  Hereat she turnèd back, and left her way
  (Necessity all mortals must obey);
  Which was no sooner voiced and hither flown,
  It sads me but to think what grief was shown;
  Which to augment (mishap ne'er single falls),
  The God of Sadness and of Funerals,
  Of heavy pensiveness and discontent,
  Cold and dull Saturn hither straight was sent.
  Myself, Merimna, who still wait upon
  Pale Melancholy and Desolation,
  Usher'd him in, when straight we strongly seize
  All this sad house, and vowed no means should ease
  These heavy bands which pensive Saturn tied,
  Till with wish'd grace this house was beautified.
  Pace then no further, for vouchsafe to know,
  Till her approach here can no comfort grow;
  'Tis only one can their sad bondage break,
  Whose worth I may admire, not dare to speak.
  She's so complete, that her much honoured state
  Gives Fortune Virtue, makes Virtue fortunate;
  As one in whom three rare mix'd virtues sit
  Seen seldom joinèd, Fortune, Beauty, Wit;
  To this choice Lady and to her dear state
  All hearts do open, as alone this gate;
  She only drives away dull Saturn hence,
  She whom to praise I need her eloquence!

This speech thus ended, presently Saturn issued from forth the port,
and curiously beholding the Countess, spake thus:--

  Peace! stay, it is, it is, it is even she!
  Hail happy honours of Nobility!
  Did never Saturn see, or ne'er see such?
  What should I style you? what choice phrase may touch,
  Or hopes in words such wondrous grace to suit,
  Whose worth doth want an equal attribute.
  Let never mortal wondering silence break,
  Since to express you Gods themselves must speak.
  Sweet glories of your sex, know that your eyes
  Makes mild the roughest planet of the skies.
  Even we, the Lord that sits on ebon thrones,
  Circled with sighs and discontented groans,
  Are forced at your fair presence to relent,
  At your approach all Saturn's force is spent.
  Now breaks my bands, now sadness leaves their towers,
  Now all are turn'd to Flora's smiling bowers;
  Then now give way, now is my bondage due
  Only to those who safely envy you.
  Hence, solitary Beldam, sink to-night,
  I give up all to joy, and to delight.
  And now pass on, all-happy-making dame!
  O could you but imagine what a flame
  Of many joys now in their bosoms shine
  Who count it their dear'st honour to be thine,
  You would aver, to number[611] them who seeks
  Must sure invent some new arithmetics,
  For who to cast their reckoning takes in hand
  Had need for counters take the ocean-sand.
  Their service is your right, your love their due
  Who only love themselves for loving you.
  Their palace waits you with so hearty gate
  Men cannot utter nor Gods scarce relate.

Then passed the whole troop to the house, until the Countess had
mounted the stairs to the great chamber; on the top of which, Merimna,
having changed her habit all to white, met her, and, whilst a consort
softly played, spake thus:--

  Madam,
  See what a change the spirit of your eyes
  Hath wrought in us. Hence dull Saturn flies,
  And we that were the ghost of woe and earth
  Are all transform'd unto the soul of mirth.
  O we are full of joy, no breast more light
  But those who owe you theirs by nature's right;
  From whom vouchsafe this present,--'tis a work
  Wherein strange miracles and wonders lurk.
     For, know, that Lady whose ambition towers
  Only to this, to be term'd worthy yours;
  Whose forehead I could crown with clearest rays,
  But that her praise is she abhors much praise;
  Not long since thought she saw in slumb'ring trances
  The Queen of Fairies and of moonlight dances
  Come tripping in; and with a fairy kiss
  She chastely touch'd her and straight gave her this
  With this strange charge:--"This piece alone was made
  For her in whom no graces e'er shall fade;
  For her whose worth is such I dare aver
  It fears not satire nor the flatterer;
  For her who gave you first most gracing name,
  Who loveth goodness for itself, not fame;
  For her whom modest virtue doth enfold[612] so
  That she had rather be much graced than told so;
  For her for whom, had you the whole world's breast
  And of it all gave her sole interest,
  You'd judge it slight." This said, hence straight she flew,
  And left it her who only vows it you.
  Then whilst our breast with secret welcomes ring,
  Vouchsafe acceptance of this offering.

Thus with a song Merimna presented her[613] honour with a very curious
and rich waistcoat; which done, the Countess passed on to her chamber.




  _The Masque presented by four knights and four gentlemen at the
     right noble Earl of Huntingdon's house of Ashby in honour of his
     Lady's most worthy mother's arrival, Alice Countess Dowager of
     Derby._

The form was thus:--

At the approach of the countesses into the great chamber the hoboys
played until the room was marshalled; which once ordered, a
traverse[614] slided away; presently a cloud was seen move up and down
almost to the top of the great chamber, upon which Cynthia was
discovered riding; her habit was blue satin, fairly embroidered with
stars and clouds: who looking down and earnestly surveying the ladies,
spake thus:--

  _Cynth._ Are not we Cynthia? and shall earth display
  Brighter than us and force untimely day?
  What daring flames beam such illustrious light,
  Enforcing darkness from the claim of night?
  Up, Ariadne, thy clear beauty rouse,
  Thou Northern Crown to lusty Bacchus' spouse,
  Let's mix our glories to outblaze your flame;
  To be outshone is Heaven's and great hearts' shame.
  Look down; know'st them? See how their fronts rebate
  Splendour like Jove and beauty worth our state!
  Hath our bright brother, the fair Lord of days,
  Into their eyes shed his us-dark'ning rays?
  Or hath some daring spirit forgot Jove's ire
  And to grace them stol'n his celestial fire?
  We are not Phoebe, this is not Heaven's story;
  Place gives not worth, but worth gives place his glory.

In the midst of this speech Ariadne rose from the bottom of the room,
mounted upon a cloud which waved up until it came near Cynthia, where
resting Ariadne spake thus:--

  _Ariad._ Can our chaste queen, searching Apollo's sister,
  Not know those stars that in yon valley glister?
  Is virtue strange to heaven? Can Cynthia
  Not know the goodly-form'd Pasithea?
  She who loves greatness to be greatly good,
  Knowing fair'st worth from virtue springs, not blood;
  Whose graceful just proportion is held such
  That what may be judge[d] beauty must have touch
  And proof from hers: yet this her least of grace
  (Which is the most in most)--her beauty's but the case
  Of fairest mind: when Fortune gave her eyes,
  Her worth made Fortune judge she once had eyes.
  But see a piece that would strike envy blind,
  Whose face would Furies tame, make monsters kind.
  He gave her mighty praise and yet no other
  But that in mind and form she's like her mother:
  Up, raisèd passion, and with pæans follow
  Grace of the Muses, daughter of Apollo!
  O precious selahs' praise thy worth is under;
  He that would limn thy grace must only wonder.
     Then views not Cynthia sweet Sophrosyne,
  Long honour of most rare virginity,
  But now much happy in her noble choice?
  In well-link'd nuptials all the gods rejoice.
     Next learn'd Eulogia, bright in gracious rays,
  Whose merit faster springeth than my praise;
  For whoso strives to give her worth fair due,
  Shall find his praise straight old, her merit new.

  _Cynth._ But, look, whose eyes are those that shine more clear
  Than lightning thrown from shield of Jupiter?
  See, see, how quick fire leaps from forth her eyes
  Which burn all hearts and warm the very skies.
  Is't not bright Euthera?

  _Ariad._ The very same,
  But her mind's splendour hath a nobler flame.
  But let the gods Eurythia behold,
  And let them envy her, face nobly bold,
  Proportion all proportion, with a mind
  But like itself, no epithet can find.

  _Cynth._ Let's visit them and slide from our abode:
  Who loves not virtue leaves to be a god.
  Sound, spheres, spread your harmonious breath,
  When mortals shine in worth gods grace the earth.

The clouds descend: while soft music soundeth, Cynthia and Ariadne
dismount from their clouds, and, pacing up to the ladies, Cynthia,
perceiving Ariadne wanting her crown of stars, speaks thus:--

  _Cynth._ But where is Ariadne's wreath of stars,
  Her eight pure fires that stud with golden bars
  Her shining brows? hath sweet-tongued Mercury
  Advanced his sons to station of the sky
  And throned them in thy wreath? [or] dost thou leave
  Thy splendour off and trust of gods deceive?

  _Ariad._ Queen of chaste dew, they will not be confined
  Or fix themselves where Mercury assign'd,
  But every night upon a forest-side,
  On which an eagle percheth, they abide,
  And honour her with their most raisèd light,
  Chaste sports, just praises, and all soft delight,
  Vowing their beams to make her presence heaven:
  Thus is the glory of my front bereaven.

  _Cynth._ Tell them they err, and say that we, the Queen
  Of night's pale lamps, have now the substance seen
  Whose shadow they adore. Go, bring those eight
  At mighty Cynthia's summons hither straight.
  Let us behold, that mount whilst we salute,
  Their faces, 'fore whom no dullness can be mute.

Presently Ariadne sings this short call:--

  Music and gentle night,
  Beauty, youth's chief delight,
  Pleasures all full invite
  Your due attendance to this glorious room;
  Then, if you have or wit or virtue, come,
     Oh, come! oh, come!

Suddenly, upon this song, the cornets were winded, and the traverse
that was drawn before the masquers sank down. The whole show presently
appeareth, which presented itself in this figure: the whole body of it
seemed to be the side of a steeply ascending wood, on the top of
which, in a fair oak, sat a golden eagle, under whose wings sat, in
eight several thrones, the eight masquers, with visards like stars,
their helms like Mercury's, with the addition of fair plumes of
carnation and white, their antique doublets and other furniture
suitable to those colours, the place full of shields, lights, and
pages all in blue satin robes, embroidered with stars. The masquers,
thus discovered, sat still until Ariadne pronounced this invocation,
at which they descended:--

  _Ariad._ Mercurian issue, sons of son of Jove,
  By the Cyllenian rod, and by the love
  Devotely chaste you vow Pasithea,
  Descend: first thou more bright of these
  That givest my crown her name, clear Dolopes,
  Whose brave descent lets not thy fair heart fall
  As born of parents most heroical,
  Who vows himself, his life, his sword and fortune
  To her whose constant goodness doth importune
  More than he is: descend! Next him, Auctolius,
  Of nimble spirit slide to honour us;
  Faithfull'st Evander; clear-soul'd Erythus;
  The hopeful Prilis and sweet Polybus;
  And thou, true son of quick-brain'd Mercury,
  Dear-loved Myrtillus, with that bright soul mix'd,
  Experienced Lares, that at last is fix'd
  After much danger in securer sphere.
  Here all with wishèd easiness appear,
  And O, if ever you were worth the grace
  Of viewing majesty in mortal's face,
  If e'er to perfect worth you vow'd heart's duty,
  Show spirit worth your virtues and their beauty.

The violins upon this played a new measure, to which the masquers
danced; and ceasing, Cynthia spake:--

  Stay a little, and now breathe ye,
  Whilst these ladies grace bequeath ye;
  Then mix fair hands, and gently ease ye,
  Cynthia charms hence what may displease ye.
  From ladies that are rudely coy,
  Barring their loves from modest joy,
  From ignorant silence, and proud looks,
  From those that answer out of books,
  From those that hate our chaste delight,
  I bless the fortune of each starry Knight.
  From gallants who still court with oaths,
  From those whose only grace is clothes,
  From bumbast stockings, vile leg-makers,
  From beards and great tobacco-takers,
  I bless the fortune of each starry dame.
  Sing, that my charm may be more strong;
  The gods are bound by verse and song.


                             _The Song_

       Audacious night makes bold the lip,
          Now all court chaster pleasure,
       Whilst to Apollo's harp you trip,
          And tread the gracing measure.
    _Cynth._ Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
  So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.

       Judicious wit, now raise thy brain,
         Now heat thy nimbler spirit,
       Show what delicious faces strain;
         Much passion shows much merit.
     _Cynth._ Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
  So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.

       Lascivious youth not dare to speak
         The language of loose city;
       He that Diana's bonds doth break
         Is held most rudely witty.
     _Cynth._ Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
  So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.

       Disgracious dullness yet much mars
         The shape of courtly talking;
       He that can silent touch such stars
         His soul lies in his walking.
     _Cynth._ Now meet, now break, then feign a warlike sally;
  So Cynthia sports, and so the gods may dally.

During this song, the masquers presented their shields, and took forth
their ladies to dance. After they had danced many measures, galliards,
corantos, and levaltos, the night being much spent, whilst the
masquers prepared themselves for their departing measure, Cynthia
spake thus:--

  _Cynth._ Now pleasing rest; for, see the night
  (Wherein pale Cynthia claims her right)
  Is almost spent; the morning grows,
  The rose and violet she strows
  Upon the high celestial floor,
  'Gainst Phoebus rise from paramour.
  The Fairies, that my shades pursue,
  And bathe their feet in my cold dew,
  Now leave their ringlets and be quiet,
  Lest my brother's eye should spy it.
  Then now let every gracious star
  Avoid at sound of Phoebus' car;
  Into your proper place retire,
  With bosoms full of beauty's fire;
  Hence must slide the Queen of Floods,
  For day begins to gild the woods.
  Then whilst we sing, though you depart,
  I'll swear that here you leave your heart.

The eclogue which a despairing shepherd spake to a nymph at my Lady's
departure:--

  Stay, fair Beliza, and, whilst Heaven throws
          On the crack'd earth
          His burning breath,
     O hear thy Dorus' woes,
  Whose cause and cure only Beliza knows.

  See now the god of flames in full pomp rides,
          And now each lass
          On flowery grass
     By the cool fountain sides
  With quiet bosom and soft ease abides.

  Do you so too, for see this bounteous spring:
          Pray thee sit down,
          Then shall I crown
     Thy brows with flowery ring,
  Whilst thus with shepherd's homely voice I sing.

He sang a passionate ditty; which done, he spake thus:--

  _Shep._ Now, fairest, deign once to impart,
     Did ever live so coy a lass
          Who unto love was never moved?

  _Nymph._ Yes, shepherd, she that hath the heart
     And is resolved her life to pass
          Neither to love or be beloved.

  _Shep._ She senseless lives without affection.

  _Nymph._ Yet happy lives without subjection.

  _Shep._ To be pluck'd are roses blown,
  To be mow'd are meadows grown [sown?],
  Gems are made but to be shown,
  And woman's best--

  _Nymph._ To keep her own.

  _Shep._ Well, shepherdess, still hate to love me;
  No scorn from my fix'd vow shall move me.
  When sheep to finest grass have loathing,
  When courtiers shall disdain rich clothing,
  When shepherds shun their mayday's sports,
  Green sickness when 'tis rife in courts,--
  O then, and not till then, I'll hate
  Beliza, my sole love and fate.

  _Nymph._ When love in daughters shall ascend
  For simple Piety's sole end,
  When any child her mother graces
  With all she can, yet all defaces
  In her fair thought the faith she oweth
  (Though what she can she freely showeth);
  Then, shepherd, mayst thou hope attend,
  For then my hate shall have an end.

  _Shep._ Thou'rt mine, Beliza; for behold
           All the hopes thy wishes crave,
           All the best the world can have,
  Here these happy characters unfold;
  Which who dares but once deny,
          In the most just and fair defence
          Of her love's highest excellence,
  I of thousands am the weak'st will die:
  From which, O deign to give this touch,
  Who gives what he can get, gives much.

                                 [_The_ Shepherd _presented a scarf_.

  Farewell, farewell!
  Joy, Love, Peace, Health in you long dwell,
  With our farewell, farewell!

So the Countess passed on until she came through the little park,
where Niobe presented her with a cabinet and so departed.


     [610] Dr. Grosart reads "Sott" (from MS.).

     [611] Dr. Grosart reads (from the MS.) "You would aueer to
     numbers: them who seekes."

     [612] Dr. Grosart gives from the MS. "vnfolde."

     [613] MS. "his."

     [614] Moveable screen.




                           CITY PAGEANT.




                         CITY PAGEANT,[615]

           ON THE OCCASION OF THE VISIT PAID BY THE KING
                  OF DENMARK TO JAMES I. IN 1606.

  _The argument of the spectacle presented to the sacred Majesties of
     Great Britain and Denmark as they passed through London._


After that the Recorder in the name of the City had saluted the
Majesties of Great Britain and Denmark with this short oration:--

"Serenissime, Augustissime Rex: quid enim Reges dicam, quos non tam
conjunctio sanguinis, quam communio pietatis unum fecit? Anni sunt
quinquaginta plus minus, a quo Regem vel unum aspeximus; nunc duos
simul contemplamur, admiramur: quapropter antiqua civitas London, nova
ista condecorata gloria, triumphat gaudio, salutat precibus,
Majestatis binam hanc majestatem.

"Sed quid offeremus? Corda non nostra, tua sunt, magne, maxime Jacobe:
et quia tua, Regi huic, potentissimo, fraternitatis vinculo majestati
vestræ conjunctissimo, amoris ergo hæcque [_sic_] munusculo dicantur."

The Scene or Pageant of Triumph presented itself in this figure. In
the midst of a vast sea, compassed with rocks, appeared the Island of
Great Britain, supported on the one side by Neptune, with the force of
Ships; on the other, Vulcan with the power of iron, and the
commodities of tin, lead, and other minerals. Over the island,
Concord, supported by Piety, and Policy, sat enthroned: the body of it
thus shaped, the life of it thus spake; whilst the Tritons in the sea
sounded loud music, the mermaids singing; then in a cloud Concord
descending, and landing on the crag of a rock, spake thus:--


                             CONCORDIA.

  Gentes feroces inter, et crudæ necis
  Animos capaces, quibus et ignavum est mori
  Paulo coactis, queis et arma civica,
  Bellaque leonum paria lacerabant agros,
  Nunc pacis almæ mater, et cælo edita,
  Et arcuato cælicæ pacis throno
  Suffulta, stabilis hic sedeo Concordia.
     Sic nempe amorum jubet et armorum Deus,
  Presto ut Britannum principi illustri forem.
  Religio dextram fulsit, et monet pie
  Bonum supremum scire supremum est bonum;
  Justitia lævam, voce sancta cognita,
  "Servate jus, servate cælicam fidem."
  Nunc itaque, reges, tuque, super omnes mihi
  Dilecte, Brutii magne moderator soli,
  Et tu, sacrato foedere et fratris pio
  Nexu revinctus, vos in æternum jubet
  Salvere missa cælitus Concordia.
  Non has inique denuo hostilis furor
  Gentes lacessat, neque leonum fortia
  Ferro dolove corda pertentet malo.
  Quoties in unum junctis [olim] viribus
  Coiere Bruti[i], non potuit ulla rabies
  Externa quatere, aut noxii vis consilii.
  Romana cessit aquila, donec proditor,
  Et scelere coepta civium distractio,
  Animam addidisset hostibus, patriæ metum.
  Nunc sceptra cum septena vi Normannicæ
  Camberque cessit, arma deposuit diu
  Indomita Ierne, et insulis centum potens
  Magni Getheli accessit antiquum genus.
  Fraternum amorem, jus sacrati foederis
  Fideique sanctæ, vinculo astrinxit Jupiter;
  Quæ vis lacesset? quod scelus quatiet? quibus
  Armis dolisve insanus utetur furor?
  En hic frequentes et celebres civium
  Turmæ, hic juventæ dulce conspirans cohors,
  Matres puellis, juvenibus[616] misti senes,
  Vos intuentur: omnis ordo suspicit.
  Hæ[617] gratiosa lumina, illi pectora
  Generosa pariter et serena prædicant.
           (_Adventu Regis, Insula Britanniæ sese aperit,
                       Londinumque prodit._)
  Totius aperit Insula imperii fores,
  Ultroque prodit cana mater urbium.


                             LONDINUM.

  Sera quidem, at felix, O cælo addenda, sereno
  Numina nata solo, illuxit præsentia vestra.
  Ecce, domus omnes turgent, plenæque fenestræ
  Expectantum oculos, et prospera cuncta precantum.
  Invide, Brittannas complexe, Tridentifer,[618] oras,
  Cur tam longa piæ mora gaudia distulit urbis?


                             NEPTUNUS.

  Urbs cara nobis, cara supremo patri,
  Non aliqua nos invidia, sed zelus tui,
  Movit, citatque, ut cursui obstarem ratis.
  Ego, cum viderem Principem tantum meo
  Sedisse dorso, ac linteis plenis vehi,
  Quidnam pararet veritus, et quo tenderet,
  Remoras adhibui, fateor, ac per me obsteti,
  Ne te moveret, ne tibi damnum daret;
  Tibi ut faverem moris antiqui est mihi.
  Sed, amore cuncta plena[619] fraterno videns,
  Preces benignas ut perimpleret tuas,
  Ventum ferentem et maria concessit Jupiter,
  Dabuntque Neptunus, et Eolus, et Jupiter.[620]


                             LONDINUM.

  Sic, O sic fiat! læto exultate triumpho,
  Terra ferax, mare fluctisonum, resonabilis Echo:
  Vivant, æternum vivant, pia numina, fratres!
                        Vivant, Vivant!
                          The [h]umblest servant
                            of your sacred Majesty,
                                 _John Marston_.


     [615] From Royal MSS. 18A xxxi. (British Museum).

     [616] MS. "juvenibus_que_"--an unmetrical reading.

     [617] MS. "Hi."

     [618] MS. "Tridentifere."

     [619] MS. "pleno fraterna."

     [620] "In MS. legitur, Neptunus, Eolus, Jupiter; Monosyllaba hæc
     duo interposita metrum ad iambicos Marstonianos (non Horatianos,
     fatemur) restituunt."--_Halliwell._




                         VERSES BY MARSTON.

       From Sir Robert Chester's _Love's Martyr_,[621] 1601.

  _A Narration and Description of a most exact wondrous Creature,
     arising out of the Phoenix and Turtle-Dove's ashes._

  O, 'twas a moving Epicedium!
  Can fire, can time, can blackest fate consume
  So rare creation? No, 'tis thwart to sense;
  Corruption quakes to touch such excellence;
  Nature exclaims for justice, justice fate,--
  Ought into nought can never remigrate.
  Then look; for see what glorious issue, brighter
  Than clearest fire, and beyond faith far whiter
  Than Dian's tier, now springs from yonder flame!
  Let me stand numb'd with wonder; never came                      10
  So strong amazement on astonish'd eye
  As this, this measureless pure rarity.
  Lo, now, th' extracture of Divinest essence,
  The soul of Heaven's laboured quintessence,
  (Pæans to Phoebus!) your dear lover's death
  Takes sweet creation and all-blessing breath.
     What strangeness is't, that from the Turtle's ashes
  Assumes such form, whose splendour clearer flashes
  Than mounted Delius? Tell me, genuine muse!
  Now yield your aids, you spirits that infuse                     20
  A sacred rapture, light my weaker eye,
  Raise my invention on swift fantasy;
  That whilst of this same Metaphysical,
  God, man, nor woman, but elix'd of all,
  My labouring thoughts with strainèd ardour sing,
  My muse may mount with an uncommon wing.


               _The Description of this Perfection._

  Dares then thy too audacious sense
  Presume define that boundless _Ens_,
        That amplest thought transcendeth?
  O yet vouchsafe, my muse, to greet
  That wondrous rareness, in whose sweet
        All praise begins and endeth.

  Divinest Beauty! that was slightest,
  That adorn'd this wondrous Brightest,
        Which had nought to be corrupted.
  In this perfection had no mean;                                  10
  To this earth's purest was unclean,
        Which virtue even instructed.

  By it all beings deck'd and stainèd,
  Ideas that are idly feignèd
        Only here subsist invested;
  Dread not to give strain'd praise at all,
  No speech is hyperbolical
        To this Perfection blessèd.

  Thus close my rhymes; this all that can be said,
  This wonder never can be flatterèd.                              20


                    _To Perfection.--A Sonnet._

  Oft have I gazèd with astonish'd eye
     At monstrous issues of ill-shapèd birth,
     When I have seen the midwife to old Earth,
  Nature, produce most strange deformity.

  So have I marvell'd to observe of late
     Hard-favour'd feminines so scant of fair,
     That masks so choicely shelter'd of the air,
  As if their beauties were not theirs by fate.

  But who so weak of observation,
     Hath not discern'd long since how virtues wanted,                10
     How parsimoniously the Heavens have scanted
  Our chiefest part of adoration?

  But now I cease to wonder, now I find
     The cause of all our monstrous penny-shows;
     Now I conceit from whence wit's scarcety grows,
  Hard favour'd features, and defects of mind.
     Nature long time hath stor'd up virtue, fairness,
     Shaping the rest as foils unto this Rareness.


                       _Perfectioni Hymnus._

  What should I call this Creature,
     Which now is grown unto maturity?
  How should I blaze this feature
     As firm and constant as eternity?

  Call it perfection? Fie!
     'Tis perfecter than brightest names can light it;
  Call it Heaven's mirror? Ay,
     Alas! best attributes can never right it.

  Beauty's resistless thunder?
     All nomination is too straight of sense.                         10
  Deep contemplation's wonder?
     That appellation give this excellence.

  Within all best confined,
     (Now, feebler Genius, end thy slighter rhyming),
  No suburbs,[622]--all is _mind_,--
     As far from spot as possible defining.

                                              JOHN MARSTON.


     [621] The verses are from the appendix to _Love's Martyr_.
     The appendix has a separate title--_Hereafter Follow Diverse
     Poeticall Essaies on the former Subiect; viz.: the Turtle and
     Phoenix. Done by the best and chiefest of our moderne writers,
     with their names subscribed to their particular workes: neuer
     before extant, &c._ Marston's verses follow Shakespeare's
     _Phoenix and Turtle_.

     [622] "Differentia Deorum et Hominum, apud Senecam; Sic habet
     nostri melior pars animum, in illis nulla pars extra
     animum."--Marginal note in old ed.




                                THE
                        MOUNTEBANK'S MASQUE.




                       _THE MOUNTEBANK'S MASK._

It is with some diffidence that I include this piece among Marston's
Works. Mr. J. P. Collier printed it in 1848 for the Shakespeare
Society from a MS. in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire; and he
stated that Marston's name is pencilled on the cover of the MS. in a
handwriting of the time. This MS. appears to have been mislaid, for I
can find no mention of it in the catalogue of His Grace's dramatic
collection.

Collier was not aware that Nichols had printed this Masque in the
third volume of his "Progress of Queen Elizabeth" from another MS.,
and that there is extant a third MS. copy in Add. MS. 5956 (Brit.
Museum).

I have contented myself with printing Collier's text without any
material alterations; but I have given in a footnote the graceful song
with which the Masque concludes in Nichols' transcript. The Masque was
performed at Court 16th February 1617-8 (See Nichols' _Progresses of
King James I._, iii. 466).




                                THE
                        MOUNTEBANK'S MASQUE.

                      THE FIRST ANTIMASQUE OF
                            MOUNTEBANKS.


                        MOUNTEBANK'S SPEECH.

The great Master of medicine, Æsculapius, preserve and prolong the
sanity of these Royal and Princely Spectators. And if any here present
happen to be valetudinary, the blessed finger of our grand Master
Paracelsus be at hand for their speedy reparation. I have heard of a
mad fellow that styles himself a merry Greek, and goes abroad by the
name of Paradox, who with frisking and dancing, and new broached
doctrine, hath stolen himself, this Festival time of Christmas, into
favour at the Court of Purple, and having there got some approbation
for his small performance, is grown so audacious as to intrude himself
into this honoured presence. To prevent whose further growing fame, I
have, with these my fellow Artists of several nations, all famous for
the bank, hither made repair, to present unto your view more
wholesome, more pleasing, and more novel delights, which, to avoid
prolixity, I distribute into these following commonplaces.

                   Names of Diseases cured by us,
              Which being infinite, purposely we omit.
                        Musical Charms,
                        Familiar Receipts,

                     _Sing their Songs, viz._:

  _Chorus._ What is't you lack, what would you buy?
               What is it that you need?
            Come to me, Gallants; taste and try:
               Here's that will do the deed.


                              1 SONG.

  1. Here's water to quench maiden fires;
     Here's spirits for old occupiers;
     Here's powder to preserve youth long,
     Here's oil to make weak sinews strong.
        What!

  2. This powder doth preserve from fate;
     This cures the Maleficiate:
     Lost Maidenhead this doth restore,
     And makes them Virgins as before.
        What!

  3. Here's cure for toothache, fever-lurdens,[623]
     Unlawful and untimely burdens:
     Diseases of all Sex and Ages
     This Medicine cures, or else assuages.
        What!

  4. I have receipts to cure the gout,
     To keep pox in, or thrust them out;
     To cool hot bloods, cold bloods to warm,
     Shall do you, if no good, no harm.
        What!


                              2 SONG.

  1. Is any deaf? Is any blind?
     Is any bound, or loose behind?
     Is any foul, that would be fair?
     Would any Lady change her hair?
     Does any dream? Does any walk,
     Or in his sleep affrighted talk?
     I come to cure what ere you feel,
        Within, without, from head to heel.

  2. Be drums or rattles in thy head;
     Are not thy brains well tempered?
     Does Eolus thy stomach gnaw,
     Or breed there vermin in thy maw?
     Dost thou desire, and cannot please,
     Lo! here the best Cantharides.
        I come.

  3. Even all diseases that arise
     From ill disposed crudities,
     From too much study, too much pain,
     From laziness, or from a strain,
     From any humour doing harm,
     Be 't dry or moist, or cold or warm.
        I come.

  4. Of lazy gout I cure the Rich;
     I rid the Beggar of his itch;
     I fleam avoid, both thick and thin:
     I dislocated joints put in.
     I can old Æson's youth restore,
     And do a thousand wonders more.
        Then come to me. What!


                              3 SONG.

  1. Maids of the chamber or the kitchen,
     If you be troubled with an itching,
     Come give me but a kiss or two,
     I'll give you that shall soon cure you.
        Nor Galen nor Hippocrates
        Did ever do such cures as these.

  2. Crack'd maids, that cannot hold your water,
     Or use to break wind in your laughter;
     Or be you vex'd with kibes or corns,
     I'll cure; or Cuckolds of their horns.
         Nor Galen.

  3. If lusty Doll, maid of the dairy,
     Chance to be blue-nipp'd by the Fairy,
     For making Butter with her tail,
     I'll give her that did never fail.
        Nor Galen.

  4. Or if some worse mischance betide her,
     Or that the nightmare over-ride her;
     Or if she tell all in a dream,
     I'll cure her for a mess of cream.
        Nor Galen.


                              4 SONG.

  1. Is any so spent, that his wife keeps Lent?
       Does any waste in his marrow?
     Is any a slug? Let him taste of my drug,
      'Twill make him as quick as a sparrow.
        My powder and oil, extracted with toil,
          By rare sublime infusions,
        Have proof they are good, by mine own dear blood,
          In many strange conclusions.

  2. Does any consume with the salt French rheum?
       Doth the gout or palsy shake him:
     Or hath he the stone, ere a month be gone,
       As sound as a bell I'll make him.
         My powder.

  3. The griefs of the spleen, and maids that be green,
       Or the heat in the Ladies' faces;
     The gripes of the stitch, or the Scholar's itch,
       In my cures deserve no places.
         My powder.

     The web or the pin,[624] or the morphew of skin,
       Or the rising of the mother,
     I can cure in a trice. Oh, then, be not nice,
       Nor ought that grieves you smother.
         My powder.


                         FAMILIAR RECEIPTS.

        _An approved receipt against Melancholy feminine._

If any Lady be sick of the Sullens, she knows not where, let her take
a handful of simples, I know not what, and use them I know not how,
applying them to the part grieved, I know not which, and she shall be
well, I know not when.

                       _Against the Scurvy._

If any Scholar be troubled with an itch, or breaking out, which in
time may prove the Scurvy, let him first forbear clawing and fretting
meats, and then purge choler, but by no means upwards.

              _For restoring Gentlemen Ushers' Legs._

If any Gentleman Usher hath the consumption in his legs, let him feed
lustily on veal two months in the spring time, and forbear all manner
of mutton, and he shall increase in calf.

                         _For the Tentigo._

If any be troubled with the Tentigo, let him travel to Japan, or,
because the forest of Turnbolia is of the same altitude, or elevation
of the Pole, and at hand, let him hunt there for his recreation, and
it shall be done in an instant.

                         _For the Angina._

If any Scholar labour of the Angina, a dangerous disease in the
throat, so that he cannot speak an hour together once in a quarter of
a year, let him forbear all violent exercises, as trotting to
Westminster Hall every term, and all hot liquors and vapours; let him
abstain from company, retiring himself warm clad in his study four
days in a week, _et fiet_.[625]

                           _For a Felon._

If any be troubled with a Felon on his finger, whereby he hath lost
the lawful use of his hand, let him but once use the exercise of
swinging, and stretch himself upon the sovereign tree of Tiburnia, and
it will presently kill the Fellon. _Probatum_.

                          _For a Tympany._

If any Virgin be so sick of Cupid that the disease is grown to a
Tympany, let her with all speed possible remove herself, changing air
for forty weeks at least, keeping a spare diet as she travels, always
after using lawful exercises, till she be married, and then she is
past danger.

                         _For Barrenness._

If any lady be long married, yet childless, let her first desire to be
a mother, and to her breakfast take a new-laid egg, in a spoonful of
goat's milk, with a scruple of Ambergris; and at supper feed on a hen
trodden but[626] by one cock. But above all things, let her avoid
hurrying in a Caroch, especially on the stones, and assuming a finer
mould than nature meant her, and no doubt she shall fructify.

                    _For the Falling Sickness._

If any woman be troubled with the falling sickness, let her not travel
Westward Ho, because she must avoid the Isle of Man; and for that it
is an evil Spirit only entered into her, let her for a Charm always
have her legs across when she is not walking, and this will help her.

                          _For a Rupture._

If any Tradesman be troubled with a Rupture in the bowels of his
estate, that he cannot go abroad, let him decoct Gold from a pound to
a noble, taking the broth thereof from six months to six months, and
he shall be as able a man as ever he was.

Now, Princely Spectators, to let you see that we are men qualified
from head to foot, we will show you a piece of our footmanship.

                        _Dance Antimasque._

                                                           [_Exeunt._
                          _Enter_ PARADOX.

Health and jouisance to this fair assembly. Now the thrice three
learned Sisters forsake me, if ever I beheld such beauties in Athens.
You ask, perhaps, who I am that thus conceitedly salute you? I am a
merry Greek, and a Sophister of Athens, who, by fame of certain novel
and rare presentments undertaken and promised by the gallant Spirits
of Graia drawn hither, have intruded myself, Sophiste like, in at the
back door, to be a Spectator, or rather a Censor, of their
undertakings. The Muses grant they may satisfy our expectations. Ah,
the shows and the songs, and the speeches, and the plays, and the
comedies, and the actings that I have seen at Athens! The universe
never saw the like. But let that pass. There was another end of my
coming, and that was to get some of these Beauties to be my disciples;
for I teach them rare doctrines, but delightful; and if you be true
Athenians (that is, true lovers of novelties, as I hope you all are)
you will give my hopes their looked-for expectation. Know, then, my
name is Paradox: a strange name, but proper to my descent, for I blush
not to tell you truth. I am a slip of darkness, my father a Jesuit,
and my mother an Anabaptist; and as my name is strange, so is my
profession, and the art which I teach, myself being the first that
reduced it to rules and method, bears my own name, Paradox. And I pray
you, what is a Paradox? It is a Quodlibet, or strain of wit and
invention screwed[627] above the vulgar conceit, to beget admiration.
And (because method is the mother of discipline) I divide my
Paradox[es] into these [three] heads--Masculine, Feminine, and Neuter;
and first of the first, for the Masculine is more worthy than the
Feminine, and the Feminine than the Neuter.

                                         [_Draws his Book and reads._


                         _Masculine._[628]

1. He cannot be a Cuckold that wears a Gregorian, for a perriwig will
never fit such a head.

2. A Knight of the long robe is more honourable than a Knight made in
the field; for furs are dearer than spurs.

3. 'Tis better to be a coward than a Captain; for a goose lives longer
than a cock of the game.

4. A Cannibal is the lovingest man to his enemy; for willingly no man
eats that he loves not.

5. A Bachelor is but half a man, and being wed, he may prove more than
half a monster; for Aries and Taurus rule the head and shoulders, and
Capricorn reacheth as low as the knees.

6. A wittall cannot be a Cuckold: for a Cuckold is wronged by his
wife, which a wittall cannot be; for _volenti non fit injuria_.

7. A Shoemaker is the fittest man of the parish to make a Constable;
for he _virtuti officii_ put any man in the stocks, and enlarge him at
last.

8. A prisoner is the best fencer; for he ever lies at a close ward.

9. An elder Brother may be a wise man; for he hath wherewithal to
purchase experience, at any rate.

10. A Musician will never make a good Vintner; for he deals too much
with flats and sharps.

11. A Drunkard is a good philosopher; for he thinks aright that the
world goes round.

12. The Devil cannot take Tobacco through his nose; for St. Dunstan
hath seared that up with his tongs.

13. Prentices are the nimblest Scavengers; for they can cleanse the
City Stews in one day.

14. No native Physician can be excellent; for all excellent simples
are foreigners.

15. A Master of Fence is more honourable than a Master of Arts; for
good fighting was before good writing.

16. A Court fool must needs be learned; for he goes to school in the
Porter's Lodge.

17. Burgomasters ought not to wear their fur gowns at Midsummer; for
so they may bring in the sweating sickness again.

18. A Cutpurse is of the surest trade; for his work is no sooner done,
but he hath his money in his hand.


                            _Feminine._

1. 'Tis far better to marry a widow than a maid.--_Causa patet_.

2. Downright language is the best Rhetoric to win a woman; for plain
dealing is a jewel, and there is no lady but desires her lap full of
them.

3. Women are to be commended for loving Stage players; for they are
men of known action.

4. If a woman with child long to lie with another man, her husband
must consent; for if he will not, she will do it without him.

5. Rich widows were ordained for younger brothers; for they, being
born to no land, must plough in another man's soil.

6. A maid should marry before the years of discretion; for _Malitia
supplet et cætera_.

7. 'Tis dangerous to wed a widow; for she hath cast her rider.

8. An English virgin sings sweeter here than at Brussells; for a
voluntary is sweeter than a forc'd note.

9. A great Lady may with her honour wear her servant's picture; for a
shadow yet never made a Cuckold.

10. A painted Lady best fits a Captain; for so both may fight under
their colours.

11. It is good for a young popish wench to marry an old man; for so
she shall be sure to keep all fasting nights.

12. A dangerous secret is safely plac'd in a woman's bosom; for no
wise man would search for it there.

13. A woman of learning and tongues is an admirable creature; for a
starling that can speak is a present for an Emperor.

14. There were never so many chaste wives as in this age; for now 'tis
out of fashion to lie with their own husbands.

15. A great Lady should not wear her own hair; for that's as mean as a
coat of her own spinning.

16. A fair woman's neck should stand awry; for so she looks as if she
were looking for a kiss.

17. Women love fish better than flesh; for they will have Place,
whatever they pay for it.


                           _Neuter._[629]

1. Old things are the best things; for there is nothing new but
diseases.

2. The best bodies should wear the plainest habits; for painted
Clothes were made to hide bare walls.

3. Dissemblers may safely be trusted; for their meaning is ever
contrary to their words.

4. Musicians cannot be but healthful; for they live by good air.

5. An Usurer is the best Christian; for _Quantum nummorum in arca,
Tantum habet et fidei_.

6. None should have license to marry but rich folks; for _Vacuum_ is a
monster _in rerum natura_.

7. A hare is more subtle than a fox; for she makes more doubles than
old Reynard.

8. 'Tis better to be a beggar than a Merchant; for all the world lies
open to his traffic, and yet he pays no custom.

9. 'Tis more safe to be drunk with the hop than with the grape; for a
man should be more inward with his Countryman than with a stranger.

10. It is better to buy honour than to deserve it; for what is far
fetched and dear bought is good for Ladies.

11. A man deep in debt should be as deep in drink; for Bacchus cancels
all manner of obligations.

12. Playhouses are more necessary in a well governed Commonwealth than
public Schools; for men are better taught by example than precept.

13. It is better to feed on vulgar and gross meats, than on dainty and
high dishes; for they that eat only partridge or quail, hath no other
brood than woodcock or goose.

14. Taverns are more requisite in a City than Academies; for it is
better the multitude were loving than learned.

15. A Tobacco shop and a Bawdy house are coincident; for smoke is not
without fire.

16. An Almanack is a book more worthy to be studied than the history
of the world; for a man to know himself is the most worthy knowledge,
and there he hath twelve signs to know it by.

17. Wealth is better than wit; for few poets have had the fortune to
be chosen Aldermen.

18. Marriage frees a man from care; for then his wife takes all upon
her.

19. A Kennel of hounds is the best Consort;[630] for they need no
tuning from morning to night.

20. The Court makes better Scholars than the University: for where a
King vouchsafes to be a teacher, every man blushes to be a
non-proficient.

                                                     [_Music sounds._

                           _Enter Pages._

  _Para._ But hark! Music: they are upon entrance. I must put up.

                            MAIN MASQUE.

                          _Enter Pages 4._

                    _Their Song, dialoguewise._

                   Where shall we find relief?
                   Is there no end of grief?
                   Is there no comfort left?
                   What cruel Charms bereft
                   The patrons of our youth?
                   We must now beg for ruth.
         _Enter_   Kind pity is the most
    _Obscurity._   Poor boys can hope for, when
                     Their joys are lost.

                             OBSCURITY.

  Light, I salute thee; I, Obscurity,
  The son of Darkness and forgetful Lethe;
  I, that envy thy brightness, greet thee now,
  Enforc'd by Fate. Fate makes the strongest bow.
  The ever youthful Knights by spells enchain'd,
  And long within my shady nooks restrain'd,
  Must be enlarged, and I the Usher be
  To their night glories; so the Fates agree.
  Then, put on life, Obscurity, and prove
  As light as light, for awe, if not for love.
  Lo! hear their tender year'd, kind-hearted Squires,
  Mourning their Master's loss; no new desires
  Can train them from these walks, but here they wend
  From shade to shade, and give their toils no end.
  But now will I relieve their suffering care.
  Hear me, fair Youths! since you so constant are
  In faith to your lov'd Knights, go haste apace,
  And with your bright lights guide them to this place;
  For if you fall directly, that descent,
  Their wished approach will farther search prevent.
  Haste by the virtue of a charming song,
  While I retrieve them, lest they lag too long.


                  THE CALL, OR SONG OF OBSCURITY.

              Appear, Appear, you happy Knights!
              Here are several sorts of Lights:
              Fire and beauty shine together,
              Your slow steps inviting hither.
              Come away; and from your eyes
                Th' old shades remove,
                  For now the Destinies
                Release you at the suit of Love.

              So, so: 'tis well marched, march apace;
              Two by two fill up the place,
              And then with voice and measure
              Greet the King of Love and Pleasure.
              Now, Music, change thy notes, and meet
              Aptly with the Dancers' feet;
              For 'tis the pleasure of Delight
              That they shall triumph all this night.


                    THE SONG AND DANCE TOGETHER.

             Frolic measures now become you,
               Overlong obscured Knights:
             What if Lethe did benumb you,
               Love now wakes you to delights.
             Love is like a golden flower,
               Your comely youth adorning:
             Pleasure is a gentle shower
               Shed in some April morning.

             Lightly rise, and lightly fall you
               In the motion of your feet:
             Move not till our notes do call you;
               Music makes the action sweet.
             Music breathing blows the fire
               Which Cupids feeds with fuel,
             Kindling honour and desire,
               And taming hearts most cruel.

                 Quickly, quickly, mend your paces,
                 Nimbly changing measured graces:
                 Lively mounted high aspire,
                 For joy is only found in fire.

             Music is the soul of measure,
               Mixing both in equal grace;
             Twins are they, begot of Pleasure,
               When she wisely numbered space.
             Nothing is more old or newer
               Then number, all advancing;
             And no number can be truer
               Than music joined with dancing.

             Every Knight elect a Beauty,
               Such as may thy heart inflame:
             Think that her bright eye doth view thee,
               And to her thy action frame.
             So shall none be faint or weary,
               Though treading endless paces;
             For they all are light and merry
               Whose hopes are fed with graces.

                 Sprightly, sprightly, end your paces,
                 Nimbly changing measured graces:
                 Lively mounted high aspire,
                 For joy is only found in fire.

                             OBSCURITY.

           Servants of Love, for so it fits you be,
           Since he alone hath wrought your liberty,
           His ceremonies now and courtly rites
           Perform with care, and free resolved sprites.
           To sullen darkness my dull steps reflect;
           All covet that which Nature doth affect.


                _The Second Measure; which danc'd,_

                    SONG TO TAKE OUT THE LADIES.

     On, on, brave Knights, you have well showed
       Each his due part in nimble dances:
     These Beauties to whose hands are owed
               Yours, wonder why
                You spare to try.
       Mark how inviting are their glances.
         Such, such a charm, such faces, such a call,
         Would make old Æson skip about the Hall.

     See, see fair choice, a starry sphere
       Might dim bright day: choose here at pleasure.
     Please your own eye: approve you here,
               Right gentle Knights:
                To these soft wights
       View, talk and touch, but all in measure.
         Far far from hence be roughness, far a frown;
         Your fair deportment this fair night shall crown.


  _After they have danced with the Ladies, and set them in
     their places, fall to their last Dance._

            _Enter_ PARADOX, _and to him his Disciples_.

Silence, Lordings, Ladies, and fiddles! Let my tongue twang awhile. I
have seen what hath been showed; and now give me leave to show what
hath not been seen, for the honour of Athens. By virtue of this
musical Whistle I will summon my disciples. See obedience: here they
are all ready. Put forward, my paradoxical Pupils, methodically and
arithmetically, one by one.

1. Behold this principal Artist that swift encounters me, whose head
is honoured by his heels for dancing in a Chorus of a Tragedy
presented at Athens, where he produced such learned variety of
footing, and digested it so orderly and close to the ground, that he
was rewarded with this relic, the cothurne or buskin of Sophocles,
which for more eminence he wears on his head. The paradoxical virtue
thereof is, that being dipped into River or Spring, it alters the
nature of the liquor, and returneth full of wine of Chios, Palermo, or
Zante.

2. This second Master of the science of footmanship (for he never came
on horseback in his life) was famed at the Feast of Pallas, where in
dancing he came off with such lofty tricks, turns above ground,
capers, cross-capers, horse-capers, so high and so lofty performed,
that he for prize bore away the Helmet of Pallas. The paradoxical
virtue of the Cask is, that in our travels if we fall among enemies,
show but this, and they suddenly vanish all like fearful shadows.

3. Now, view this third piece of Excellence: this is he that put down
all the Bakers, at the feast of Ceres, and so danced there, as if he
had kneaded dough with his feet: wherewith the Goddess was so tickled,
that she in reward set this goodly loaf on his head, and endued it
with this paradoxical influence, that cut off it and eat as often as
you please, it straight fills up again, and is in the instant healed
of any wound our hunger can inflict on it.

4. Approach now thou that comest in the rear of my disciples, but
mayest march in the vanguard of thy validity; for at the celebration
of the feast of Venus Cytherea, this Amoroso did express such passion
with his eyes, such casts, such winks, such glances, and with his
whole body such delightful gestures, such cringes, such pretty wanton
mimics, that he won the applause of all; and, as it was necessary at
the Feast of that Goddess, he had then a most ample and inflaming
codpiece, which, with his other graces, purchased him this prize, the
Smock of Venus, wrapped turbanlike on his head, the same she had on
when she went to bed to Mars, and was taken napping by Vulcan. The
Paradox of it is, that if it be hanged on the top of our Maypole, it
draws to us all the young lads and lasses near adjoining, without
power to part till we strike sail ourselves. And now I have named our
Maypole, go bring it forth, though it be more cumbersome than the
Trojan horse: bring it by force of arms, and see you fix it fast in
the midst of this place, lest, when you encircle it with your
capricious dances, it falls from the foundation, lights upon some
lady's head, and cuffs off her perriwig. But now for the glory of
Athens!

    _Music plays the Antimasque. The disciples dance one Strain._

We have give you a taste of the excellency of our Athenial Revels,
which I will now dignify with mine own person. Lie here, impediment,
whereof being freed, I will descend. O, you Authors of Greek wonders!
what ostent is this? What supernatural Paradox? a wooden Maypole find
the use of voluntary motion! Assuredly this tree was formerly the
habitation of some wood nymph, for the Dryads (as the Poets say) live
in trees; and perhaps, to honour my dancing, the nymph hath crept into
this tree again: so I apprehend it, and will entertain her courtesy.

       PARADOX, _his Disciples, and the Maypole, all dance_.

Did ever eye see the like footing of a tree, or could any tree but an
Athenian tree do this? or could any nymph move it but an Athenian
nymph? Fair Nymph, though I cannot arrive at thy lips, yet will I kiss
the wooden mask that hides thy no doubt most amiable face.

        PARADOX _offers to kiss and a Nymph's head meets him
                        out of the Maypole_.

Wonder of wonders! Sweet Nymph, forbear: my whole structure trembles:
mortality cannot stand the brightness of thy countenance. Pursue me
not, I beseech thee: put up thy face, for love's sake. Help, help!
Disciples, take away this dismal peal from me. Rescue me, with all
your violence.--So, the Devil is gone, and I will not stay long after.
Lordings and Ladies: if there be any here desirous to be instructed in
the mystery of Paradoxing, you shall have me at my lodging in the
black and white Court, at the sign of the Naked Boy. And so to you all
the best wishes of the night.

                _Enter_ MOUNTEBANK, _like a Swiss_.

Stay, you presumptuous Paradox! I have viewed thy antics and thy
Puppet, which have kindled in me the fire of Emulation. Look; am I not
in habit as fantastic as thyself? Dost thou hope for grace with
Ladies, by thy novel doctrine? I am a man of art: witness this, my
Charming Rod, wherewith I work Miracles; and whereas thou like a
fabulous Greek, hast made monsters of thy Disciples, lo! I will oppose
squadron against squadron, and plain truth against painted fiction.
Now for [thy] moving Ale-sign: but for frighting the Devil out of it,
I could encounter thee with Tottenham High Cross, or Cheap Cross
(though it be new guilt), but I scorn odds, and therefore will I
affront thee pole to pole. Go, Disciples: usher in our lofty enchanted
motion; and, Paradox, now betake you to your tackling, for you deal
with men that have got air and fire in them.

                              PARADOX.

Assist me, thou active nymph, and you, my glorious associates.
Victory! Victory for Athens!

                                                            [_Dance._

                            MOUNTEBANK.

Accomplished Greek! now, as we are true Mountebanks, this was bravely
performed on both parts, and nothing now remains but to make these two
Maypoles better acquainted. But we must give place: the Knights appear.

                         OBSCURITY _Enter_.

  Enough of these night-sports! part fairly, Knights,
  And leave an edge on pleasure, lest these lights
  I suddenly dim all; and pray, how then
  Will these gay Ladies shift among you men,
  In such confusion? Some their homes may miss:
  Obscurity knows tricks as mad as this.
  But make your parting innocent for me;
  I will no author now of Error be.
  Myself shall pass with you, a friend of light,
  Giving to all this round a kind good night.

                          LAST SONG.[631]

  We must away: yet our slack pace may show
  'Tis by constraint we this fair Orb forego.
  Our longer stay may forfeit what but now
  Love hath obtained for us: to him we bow,
  And to this gentler Power, who so contriv'd
  That we from sullen shades are now depriv'd,
  And hither brought, where Favour, Love, and Light,
  So gloriously shine, they banish Night.
  More would we say, but Fate forbids us more.--
  Our Cue is out--Good night is gone before.[632]


     [623] "Fever-lurdens"--a jocular term for slothfulness.

     [624] "Pin and the web" was the name of a disorder of the eye.

     [625] The words "_et fiet_" are omitted in Add. MS.--Nichols
     gives "at first."--It may be remarked that Nichols' transcript is
     made throughout in a slovenly manner.

     [626] "But" is omitted by Collier, but found in Add. MS. and
     Nichols.

     [627] So Add. MS. and Nichols.--Collier gives "strued."

     [628] In Add. MS. and Nichols are some additional "paradoxes."

     [629] "Epicæne" in the MS. is struck out and "Newter" written as
     a correction.

     [630] Concert.

     [631] In Nichols' _Progresses_ the Masque concludes with the
     following song:--

       "The hour of sweety night decays a-pace,
       And now warm beds are better than this place.
       All time is long that is unwillingly spent,
       But hours are minutes when they yield content:
       The gathered flowers we love that breathe sweet scent,
       But loathe them, their sweet odours being spent.
               It is a life is never ill
               To lie and sleep in roses still.

       The rarer pleasure is it is more sweet,
       And friends are kindest when they seldom meet.
       Who would not hear the nightingale still sing,
       Or who grew ever weary of the spring?
       The day must have her night, the spring her fall,
       All is divided, none is lord of all:
               It were a most delightful thing
               To live in a perpetual spring."

     In the third line we should doubtless read "unwilling" for
     "unwillingly."

     [632] In Add. MS. follow some "paradoxes" which "were read at
     Gray's Inn but left out at Court to avoid tediousness." Most of
     these are found in pp. 428-432. [Transcriber's Note: numbered
     paragraphs under headers "Masculine," "Feminine," and "Neuter."]




         Amicis,[633] amici nostri dignissimi dignissimis,

                             EPIGRAMMA

                                 D.

                        JOHANNES MARSTONIUS.

         Ye ready friends, spare your unneedful bays:
         This work despairful Envy must even praise.

         Phoebus hath voiced it loud through echoing skies:
         "Sejanus' Fall shall force thy merit rise:"

         For never English shall, or hath before
         Spoke fuller graced. He could say much, not more.


     [633] Prefixed to the 1605 4to. of Ben Jonson's _Sejanus_.




                               INDEX.


  Abhominable, ii. 219

  Accourt, i. 52

  Accoustrements, iii. 261

  Accustrements, i. 24

  Achelous, ii. 144

  Actors (two or more parts taken by one actor), i. 8

  Adamant softened by goat's blood, iii. 151

  Aderliver, ii. 18

  Admiral, iii. 84

  _Adore_ and _adorn_ (confusion between), iii. 362

  Ægina, iii. 290

  Affects (= affections), i. 119, 160

  A-jax, ii. 368; iii. 377

  Allay, ii. 73

  All-canning, iii. 263, 335

  Aloune (_Fr._ allons), ii. 355

  Ambages, iii. 173

  Anatomy, iii. 139, 236

  Ancome, iii. 51

  _And ever she cried Shoot home_, iii. 15

  _Anechou e apechou_, ii. 176

  An-end, iii. 164

  Aphrodisiacs, i. 239

  Apple-squire, ii. 383

  Aporn, ii. 65

  Apostata, iii. 220

  Approvement, i. 189

  Apricock, ii. 130

  Aquinian, iii. 327

  Aretine, _Puttana Errante_ falsely ascribed to, iii. 377;
    Aretine's _Pictures_, iii. 275

  Aristotle quoted, iii. 329;
    _Aristotle's Problems_, i. 152

  Armed Epilogue, i. 93

  Assay ("give me assay"), i. 64

  Assured, i. 109

  At all, iii. 318

  Aunt, ii. 14


  Babies, iii. 362

  Babion, iii. 364

  Bable, i. 85, 158; ii. 69

  Bacchis, iii. 356

  Backside, iii. 101

  Bacon, Friar, ii. 125

  Badged coach, iii. 350

  Baffle, ii. 401

  Baldessar Castiglione, i. 222; iii. 264

  Bale of dice, ii. 382

  Balloon, iii. 17

  Bankrout, i. 138

  Banks, i. 21

  Barbary sugar, ii. 360

  Barksteed, William, iii. 243

  Barmy froth, iii. 339

  Barnes, Barnabe, iii. 358

  Bases, iii. 153

  Basilisco, ii. 348

  Basilus manus, iii. 192

  Basket (for collecting food for poor prisoners), iii. 111

  Bastard, Thomas, quoted by Marston, _Addenda_, vol. i.

  Battle fate, ii. 350

  Bawbees, i. 204

  Bayard ("bold as blind Bayard"), ii. 324

  Beaking, i. 133

  Bear a brain, ii. 60, 124

  Bear no coals, i. 168

  Beat, i. 146

  Beaver, iii. 350

  Becco, i. 214, 287

  Beg for a fool, i. 233; ii. 347; iii. 217

  Beggar-wench, jest about, iii. 302

  Bel and the Dragon, ii. 131

  Belly-cheer, iii. 366

  Bescumber, iii. 363

  Bessicler's armour, i. 30

  _Bewray_ and _beray_, i. 114; ii. 359

  Bezel, i. 240; iii. 275, 349

  Black ox trod o' my foot, iii. 119

  Blackfriars, feather-makers reside at, i. 202;
    Blackfriars' Theatre, i. 199

  Black-guard, ii. 182

  Blacks, ii. 339

  Blacksaunt, iii. 347

  Blind Gew, i. 13

  Blue coat, iii. 50, 301

  Books called in, ii. 48

  Boot-carouse, iii. 275

  Borage in wine, iii. 394

  Bottle-ale (term of reproach), iii. 339

  Brack, i. 9, 140

  Bragot, ii. 101

  Braided, iii. 325, 337

  Brakes, i. 320

  Brasil, iii. 272

  Brides serenaded on the morning after their wedding, ii. 389

  Brill, iii. 348

  Brittany, i.  26

  Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, ii.  197; iii.  151, 241

  Budge, iii.  346, 368

  Buffin, iii.  14

  Bully, i. 79; ii. 353

  Burbage, Richard, i. 201

  Burbolt, ii. 323

  Burgonian's ward, iii. 373

  Buried treasure, iii. 219

  Burn, iii. 241

  Busk, i. 9

  Busk-point, i. 274; iii. 255

  Buss, ii. 90

  _But a little higher_, &c., _Addenda_, vol. i.


  Cable-hatband, i. 31

  Cables (used as a protection from the fire of the enemy), i. 30

  Camomile ("mount like camomile"), ii. 144

  Campion, Thomas, _Addenda_, vol. i.

  Cant, i. 132

  Carpet-boy, i. 20

  Carry coals, i. 288

  Carver ("you're a cunning carver"), iii. 141

  Case (kaze), ii. 11

  Case (= covering), iii. 109

  Case of rapiers, i. 30

  Cast o' ladies, i. 238

  Castilio, i. 222; iii. 264

  Casting-bottle, i. 13

  Catso, i. 216, 304, &c.

  Censure, i. 202; ii. 255, 323

  Chamlet, ii. 345

  Chaun, i. 46

  Cheat-bread, iii. 103

  Cheator, ii. 406

  Cherries at an angel a pound, iii. 15

  Chittizen, iii. 19

  Chopines, ii. 50

  Christ-Church Parish, iii. 12

  Chuck (term of endearment), iii. 104

  Cinædian, iii. 310

  Cinquepace, iii. 268

  Cipres, i. 258

  Cittern-heads, iii. 301

  Claw, i. 105

  Clerkenwell, ii. 16

  Close fight, i. 24

  Clove-stuck face, iii. 348

  Clumsy, i. 99

  Clutch, i. 144

  Cluttered, i. 120; iii. 356

  Coast, i. 312

  Cockatrice, i. 301; ii. 18; iii. 224

  Codpis, iii. 273

  Cog a die, i. 48

  Coistered, i. 293

  Collogue, i. 302

  Colour de roy, i. 111

  Come aloft Jack-an-apes, i. 214

  Come on five, iii. 318

  Commodities ("take up commodities"), i. 305, &c.

  Common-place book out of plays, iii. 372

  Complements, i. 233

  Consort, iii. 432

  Convey, ii. 387

  Copy, ii. 408

  Coranto, i. 32

  Corbed, i. 130

  Cork shoe, i. 81

  Cornish daws, iii. 332

  Coronel, iii. 212

  Corsive, iii. 151

  Cote, i. 167

  Crab's baked guts, i. 239; iii. 320

  Crack (pert boy), ii. 383

  Creak's noise, ii. 45

  Cressit light, i. 41

  Cross-bite, ii. 381, 387

  Crowds, ii. 373

  Crudled, i. 26

  Cuckold's haven, iii. 68

  Cuckquean, ii. 377

  Cullion, i. 206; iii. 89

  Cullisses, ii. 141

  Culvering, iii. 365

  Curson'd, i. 55

  Curtain Theatre, _Romeo and Juliet_ performed at, iii. 373

  Custard ("let custards quake"), iii. 312

  Cut ("in the old cut"), i. 11

  Cut and long tail, iii. 10

  Cutter, ii. 401

  Cutting, ii. 45

  Cyllenian, iii. 274


  Dametas, iii. 268

  Daniel the Prophet, ii. 150; iii. 341

  Daniel, Samuel, iii. 283

  Day ("let him have day"), ii. 8

  Day, John, his _Humour out of Breath_ dedicated to _Signior Nobody_,
  i. 5;
    quotation from his _Isle of Gulls_, i. 289

  Death o' sense, ii. 158

  Death's head on rings, ii. 16

  Decimo sexto, i. 203

  Defend ("God defend!"), i. 204

  Demosthenes paid for his silence, ii. 152

  Denier, iii. 315

  Depaint, i. 90; iii. 271

  Deprave, ii. 126

  Diet, ii. 370;
    diet-drink, ii. 15

  Diety, ii. 24

  Digby, Sir Everard, ii. 193

  Dilling, ii. 344; iii. 10

  Ding, i. 11, 166; iii. 282

  Diogenes the Cynic, scandalous story about, iii. 319

  Dipsas, i. 238

  Discreet number, iii. 314

  Disgest, i. 140, 146, 161; ii. 179

  _Divines and dying men may talk of hell_, &c., iii. 225

  Division, i. 48, 81

  _Do me right and dub me knight_, i. 81

  Donne's verses _On a Flea on his Mistress' Bosom_, iii. 359

  Donzel del Phebo, i. 300

  Dowland, John, his _First Book of Songs_ quoted, iii. 14, 55

  Drake's ship at Deptford, iii. 59

  Drayton, Michael, iii. 283, 363

  Drink drunk, iii. 84

  Dropsy-noul, iii. 340

  Dun cow with a kettle on her head, i. 72

  Durance, iii. 15

  Dutch ancients, iii. 351


  Eager, ii. 73

  _Eastward Ho!_ iii. 5;
    satirical reflections on the Scots, iii. 65

  Ela ("I have strained a note above Ela"), i. 86

  Enagonian, iii. 336

  Enginer, iii. 97

  Enhanceress, ii. 15

  Epictetus, saying of, ii. 176

  Erasmus, resemblance between a passage of his _Colloquies_ and
  passage of _First Part of Antonio and Mellida_, i. 62

  Ercole, Duke of Ferrara, ii. 117

  Estro, ii. 156

  Euphues, ii. 69


  Fact, ii. 95; iii. 224

  Fage, iii. 308

  Fair, iii. 350

  Falls, iii. 267

  False lights, iii. 337

  Family of Love, ii. 13

  Far fet and dear bought is good for ladies, i. 306

  Fart ("get a fart from a dead man"), iii. 90

  Fawn, ii. 115

  Feak, iii. 265

  Fear (= frighten), ii. 158

  Fear no colours, iii. 153

  Featherbeds used in naval engagements as a protection against the
  fire of the enemy, i. 30

  Feature, iii. 251

  _Feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis_, ii. 404

  Fencing, terms in, iii. 373

  Fere, iii. 225

  Fetch, i. 127

  Fever-lurdens, iii. 420

  Fico, ii. 133; iii. 320

  Figent, iii. 60

  Fin ("the fin of his eyes"), i. 214

  Fist, ii. 42, 73, 82; iii. 90

  Flap-dragon, ii. 70

  Flat-cap, ii. 32; iii. 11

  Fleam, i. 230

  Fleamy, i. 133

  Flushing, i. 234

  Flyboat, i. 87

  Foisting-hound, iii. 41

  Foot-cloth, i. 213; ii. 153

  Foutra, ii. 32

  Fowl (fool), i. 260

  Frail commodities, iii. 40

  French brawl, ii. 377

  Froe, ii. 13

  Froterer, ii. 384

  Fumatho, ii. 184


  Galleasse, i. 87, 162

  Gallemawfrey, iii. 139

  Gamashes, ii. 344

  Garboil, iii. 356

  Geason, ii. 331, 339

  Gelded vicary, iii. 324, 337

  _Gelid_ and _jellied_, ii. 291

  Gern, i. 55, 111; ii. 203, 403

  Get-penny, iii. 87

  Gew, the actor, i. 13; _Addenda_, vol. i.

  Ghosts of misers, iii. 219

  Giants at the Lord Mayor's pageant, ii. 50

  Gib-cat, ii. 203

  Giglet, ii. 340, 400

  Gilt, iii. 323

  Give arms, iii. 11

  Give further day, ii. 328

  Glaired, iii. 277

  Glassy Priapus, iii. 309

  Glaver, iii. 263, 339

  Glibbery, i. 22

  Glory, ii. 225

  Gnatho, iii. 291

  Goat's blood, iii. 151

  God you good even, iii. 5;
    God ye good morrow, ii. 393

  God's neaks, i. 54

  Gold ends, iii. 28

  Gold-end man, iii. 103

  Goldsmiths' Row, i. 205

  Good man (= wealthy man), ii. 57

  Goose-turd-green, ii. 47

  Gorget, ii. 260

  Gormand, iii. 327

  Granado netherstocks, iii. 301

  Grand grincome, ii. 31

  Great man's head, iii. 348

  Gresco, iii. 93

  Griffith, Margaret, i. 233

  Griffon, i. 297

  Grillus, iii. 281

  Ground, i. 37; iii. 142

  Guarded, i. 232; iii. 346

  Guards, ii. 387; iii. 14

  Guilpin, Edward, iii. 287, 367

  Gundolet, i. 57

  Gurnet's head, iii. 341

  Guzzel dogs, iii. 308


  Half-clam'd, i. 150

  Half-crown ordinary, ii. 406

  Hall, Joseph, iii. 281-6;
    Marston's imitations of, iii. 310, 320, 323

  Hall ("A hall! a hall!"), iii. 372

  _Hamlet_, quoted in _The Malcontent_, i. 201, 264;
    early popularity of, iii. 49, 52;
    imitation of passages from, i. 224; iii. 133, 134, 137, 230

  Hangers, i. 36; ii. 406

  Harvey, John, i. 205

  Hatch short sword, ii. 406

  Hazard, iii. 100

  Head-men, iii. 37

  Healths in urine, ii. 70

  Heathy, i. 15; _Addenda_, vol. i.

  Hem, ii. 14

 _Henry IV., Part I._, imitation of passage from, iii. 219

  Herring-bones, iii. 344

  Hey-pass re-pass, ii. 381

  Heywood, Thomas, popularity of his _If you know not me you know
  nobody_, iii. 87

  High-lone, i. 172

  High-noll'd, i. 165

  Hipponax, iii. 359

  Hiren ("Hast thou not Hiren here?"), iii. 26

  Hogson, iii. 319

  Hole (part of a prison), iii. 106

  Honorificabilitudinitatibus, ii. 92

  Horn-fair, iii. 72

  Hout, i. 65

  Huddle, i. 213

  Hull, i. 87; ii. 250

  Hyena, iii. 115;
    confused by Marston with the panther, ii. 347

  Hymen represented in a saffron robe, i. 261


  _Imagines Deorum_, iii. 270

  Imbraid, i. 117, 283

  Incubus, i. 107, 172

  Inductions to plays, i. 7

  Ingenious, ii. 109, 397

  Injury (verb), iii. 381

  Instaur'd, ii. 333

  Intellectual, iii. 372

  Inward, i. 282

  Io! i. 183

  Irishmen, commendable bashfulness of, i. 265

  Italy, vices brought to England from, iii. 275


  Jakes of Lincoln's Inn, ii. 368

  James I, his _Poetical Exercises_, iii. 281;
    James' knights, sneer at, iii. 79

  Jawn, i. 129

  Jellied, i. 114, 126; ii. 291

  Jingling spurs, i. 233

  Jobbernole, iii. 301, 341

  Jones, Robert, quotation from his _First Book of Songs and Airs_, ii. 33

  Jonson, Ben, compliment to, i. 320;
    allusion to a passage in his _Volpone_, ii. 190;
    sneer at his _Sejanus_, ii. 235;
    ridiculed, iii. 305

  Jove (influence of the planet Jupiter), ii. 292

  Judas' red beard, iii. 166

  Julia (daughter of Augustus), witty saying of, ii. 12

  _Julius Cæsar_, quoted, iii. 215

  Juvenal imitated, iii. 308-9


  Ka me, ka thee, iii. 30

  Keel, i. 77; ii. 321

  Kempe's Jig, iii. 372

  King of flames, ii. 292

  _King John_, quoted, ii. 354

  Kinsing, iii. 369

  Kinsayder, ii. 350

  Knight's ward, iii. 106

  Knighthood purchased from King James, iii. 79

  Knights of the mew, ii. 322

  Knock, i. 31

  Knurly, i. 166


  Lady-bird, iii. 104

  Lælius Balbus, ii. 130

  Lamb, Charles, his criticisms on Marston, i. 49, 100;
    his remarks on the Decay of Symbols, ii. 338

  Lanch (= lance), ii. 193

  Lanthorn and candle-light, i. 35; iii. 202

  Laver-lip, iii. 291

  Lavolta, i. 183

  Lay, iii. 88

  Lay in lavender, iii. 100

  Leese, iii. 346

  Leg of a lark is better than the body of a kite, iii. 104

  _Legend of Lies_, ii. 69

  Legs (= bows), iii. 264

  Lemon's juice, iii. 350

  Lent, consumption of flesh forbidden during, iii. 203

  Leopards, their fondness for wine, iii. 238

  Lettuce, iii. 320

  Lie, ii. 16

  Lindabrides, ii. 55

  Linstock, i. 30

  Lion, curious belief concerning, iii. 237

  London licket, iii. 14

  Long stock, ii. 337

  Loose ("at the loose"), ii. 387

  Los guantes, i. 276

  Lovery, iii. 337

  _Lozenges of Sanctified Sincerity_, i. 255

  Lugg'd boot, iii. 378

  Lusk, iii. 335, 358

  Luskish, iii. 324

  Lusty Laurence, iii. 289

  Luxuriousness, iii. 349


  M. under your girdle, iii. 92

  Mace, iii. 277

  Main, ii. 406

  Make ("What should we make here?"), iii. 131

  Male lie, iii. 308

  Malice (verb), ii. 40, 91, 109

  Mandragora, iii. 114

  Mandrake, iii. 219

  Mannington, George, his woeful ballad, iii. 118

  March-panes, ii. 373

  Marry faugh, iii. 11

  Marry muff, i. 169

  Martial quoted, ii. 28, 110

  Mary Ambree, i. 22

  Mason's _Mulleasses_, allusion to passage of, iii. 31;
    quoted, _Addenda_, vol. i.

  Maypole (term of abuse), i. 23

  Measure, i. 184, 276; ii. 43

  Measuring, iii. 311

  _Merchant of Venice_ quoted, iii. 34

  Mere, merely, i. 236, 320; ii. 297

  Methodist Musus, iii. 308

  Metreza, i. 213

  Mincing capreal, iii. 372

  Minikin, i. 51, 80

  Minikin-tickler, ii. 401

  Minioning, i. 279

  _Mirror of Knighthood_, i. 300; ii. 69

  _Mirror for Magistrates_, iii. 283

  Modern, i. 11; iii. 364

  Monmouth caps, iii. 84

  Month's mind, iii. 135

  Moorfields (favourite spot for beggars), iii. 13

  More hair than wit, iii. 199

  Mortimer's numbers, iii. 363

  Motion (= proposal), i. 159; ii. 51, 96; iii. 123

  Motion (= puppet-show), ii. 51

  Mott, iii. 332

  Much (ironical), i. 243, 251, &c.

  Muckender, ii. 359

  Mumchance, ii. 382

  Murr, i. 153; ii. 140

  Muscovy glass, i. 234

  Music-houses, i. 185

  Mycerinus, iii. 243


  Naples' canker, iii. 309;
    Naples' pestilence, ii. 349

  Nashe, Thomas, quoted, iii. 48, 225, 273

  Natalis Comes, iii. 270

  Neast (nest) of goblets, ii. 7

  Nectar-skink, ii. 307

  Ne'er-crazed, iii. 355

  Nemis, iii. 289

  Nile, dogs drinking on the bank of, ii. 281

  Nitty, iii. 276, 370

  No point, ii. 77

  Noddy, iii. 189

  Noise, ii. 43

  Nuzzel, ii. 372


  O God, i. 32

  _O hone, hone_, iii. 98

  O Lord, sir, ii. 30

  Obligation, ii. 57

  Occupant, iii. 300, 349

  Occupation, ii. 219

  O'er-peise, i. 310

  Old cut (= old fashion), i. 11

  One and thirty, iii. 329

  Ophelia, iii. 52

  Ophiogeni, iii. 310

  Outrecuidance, iii. 95

  Owe, ii. 259

  Ox-pith, i. 239


  Packstaff epithets, iii. 338;
    packstaff rhymes, iii. 310

  Pages, their fondness for dicing, ii. 382

  Paize, i. 100, 121; ii. 327

  Palæphatus, iii. 311

  Pale, ii. 287

  Palladium, ii. 252

  Palmerin de Oliva, ii. 69

  Pane, ii. 337; iii. 349

  Pantable, pantofle, i. 29; ii. 382

  Parcel-gilt, ii. 57

  Parkets, ii. 141

  Parmeno ("nothing _ad Parmenonis suem_"), i. 204

  Parted, iii. 20

  Parthenophil, iii. 358

  Party per pale, ii. 345

  Passion, i. 90

  Pavin, iii. 340

  Peat, ii. 339; iii. 100

  Peele, Gronge, _Merry Jests_ of, i. 40

  Peevish, iii. 254

  _Peggy's complaint for the death of her Willy_, ii. 29

  Pepper in the nose, ii. 321

  Peregal, i. 55

  Perfumed jerkin, i. 314

  Perpetuana, ii. 343

  Persius quoted, ii. 111

  Peterman, iii. 38

  Petronel, i. 19

  _Physic against Fortune_, i. 255

  Pickhatch, iii. 319, 376

  Pill (= peel), i. 99

  Pillowbear, iii. 253

  Pin and the web, iii. 423

  Pirates hanged at Wapping, iii. 91

  Pistol, Ancient (scraps of his rant), iii. 11

  Placket, ii. 383

  Plastic, i. 234

  Plat, i. 54

  Play-bills stuck on posts, iii. 302

  Plunge, i. 105

  Plutarch quoted, ii. 152, 266

  Pole-head, ii. 348

  Pomander, i. 294

  Pommado reversa, iii. 375

  Pompey the huge, i. 214

  Ponado, iii. 42

  Poor John, i. 89

  Popeling, iii. 262

  Porcpisce, iii. 69

  Port Esquiline, iii. 351, 361

  Possessed persons able to speak in various tongues, i. 212

  Poting-stick, i. 308

  Prest, ii. 250; iii. 312

  Priapus' gardens, iii. 302

  Proface, iii. 303

  Prostitution (= whore), ii. 13

  Protest (use of the word considered affected), ii. 345

  Pudding tobacco, ii. 344

  Pug, i. 29, 152

  Puisne, iii. 300

  Purchase, i. 303; ii. 410

  Purfled, i. 110

  Puritan (cant term for a whore), ii. 383

  Puritans' ruffs, i. 13

  Put-pin, iii. 362

  Putry, i. 150


  Quelquechose, i. 216

  Quiblin, iii. 60

  Quote, ii. 364


  Ramp, i. 99

  Ramsey, Lady, iii. 87

  Rariety, iii. 213

  Rats of Nilus, iii. 342, 344

  Real (= regal), i. 34

  Reason (raisin), iii. 154

  Rebato, i. 31; iii. 351

  Red lattice, i. 86

  Reez'd bacon, iii. 322

  Remora, iii. 84

  Remorse, i. 21, 90

  Renowmed, ii. 165

  Respective (= respectful), i. 152

  Reverent (= reverend), ii. 292; iii. 29, &c.

  Rhinoceros' horn, iii. 139

  Ribanded ears, ii. 391; iii. 301

  _Richard II._, quoted, i. 28;
    imitation of passage from, iii. 146

  _Richard III._, quoted, i. 47, 48; ii. 349; iii. 344

  Ride at the ring, i. 214

  Riding-wand, iii. 38

  Rings with death's head, ii. 16

  Ringo-root, iii. 348

  Rivels (= wrinkles), i. 243;
    rivell'd, i. 108; iii. 234

  Rivo, ii. 349, 355

  Roast beef (a "commodity"), iii. 40

  Rochelle churchman, i. 252

  Rodio, iii. 267

  Room, i. 202, 206

  _Romeo and Juliet_ performed at the Curtain Theatre, iii. 373;
    early popularity of, iii. 140

  Rope-maker's son, ii. 153

  Rosa solis, ii. 45

  Rosemary, iii. 53, 138

  Rosicleer, i. 30, 300

  Ruff, iii. 182

  Ruffled boot, i. 83

  Rug-gowns, ii. 395

  Rutter, ii. 386


  Sacramental wine poisoned, iii. 241

  Sad, sadly, sadness, i. 71; iii. 258, 339

  St. Agnes' Eve, iii. 141

  Salaminian, iii. 261

  Say ("take say"), ii. 11

  Sconce, i. 236; iii. 84

  Scotch barnacle, i. 256;
    Scotch boot, i. 257;
    Scotch farthingale, iii. 16

  Scots, satirised in _Eastward Ho!_ iii. 64

  Seneca quoted, i. 20, 49, 122, 127, 130, 133, 141, 144-5, 149, 174,
  237, 265, 304; ii. 109

  Servant (= suitor, lover), i. 33; ii. 388

  Sest, ii. 374, 402

  Sewer, ii. 135

  Shakespeare, imitated, i. 28, 47, 48, 224; ii. 23, 143, 218; iii.
  133, 134, 137, 146, 215, 219, 230;
    burlesqued, i. 206; ii. 349; iii. 344

  Shaking of the sheets, iii. 165

  Shale, ii. 185

  Ship of Fools, ii. 122

  Shirley, James, iii. 344

  Shot-clog, iii. 13

  Si quis, ii. 304

  _Sick Man's Salve_, iii. 107

  Siddow, i. 162

  Silver piss-pots, iii. 316

  Sink a-pace (cinquepace), iii. 156

  Sinking thought, i. 106

  Sinklo, the actor, i. 200

  Sip a kiss, i. 91

  Slatted, i. 281

  Sliftred, i. 27

  Slip, i. 81, 111

  Slop, i. 83

  Sluice ("sluiced out his life-blood"), i. 189; iii. 224

  Slur, iii. 371

  Sly, William, i. 199

  Small, ii. 361

  Snaphance, iii. 269, 330

  Snib, i. 264; ii. 353; iii. 379

  Snout-fair, iii. 320

  Snurling, i. 186

  Soil ("take soil"), i. 254

  Soldado, iii. 261, 357

  Sometimes, iii. 282

  Sophocles' _Antigone_ quoted, i. 128

  Souse, i. 279

  Southwell, Robert, iii. 281

  Spanish blocks, iii. 301

  Spanish leather, ii. 7

  _Spanish Tragedy_, i. 121, 168; iii. 12, 26, 28

  Speak pure fool, i. 85

  Speeding-place, ii. 333

  Spiders eaten by monkeys, i. 213

  Spur-royals, i. 109

  Spurs (jingling spurs affected by gallants), i. 233

  Squibs running on lines, ii. 121

  Stabb'd arms, ii. 70

  Stage, custom of gallants to sit (and smoke) on the, i. 199, 200, 206

  Stalking-horse, i. 283

  Stammel, ii. 387; iii. 14

  State (= throne), i. 36; ii. 215

  States (= nobles), i. 109, 159, 162

  Statist, ii. 262

  Statute-staple, iii. 322

  Stigmatic, iii. 359

  Stock (= stoccata), i. 111, 239

  Stockado, iii. 268

  Stone-bows, ii. 8

  Streak, iii. 323, 355

  Stut, ii. 342

  Suburbs (bawdy-houses in), i. 317

  Suffenus, iii. 306

  Surphule, i. 245; iii. 275, 310

  Surquedry, i. 50, 147; iii. 267

  Switzer, iii. 348

  Swound, ii. 93

  Sylvester, Joshua, iii. 281


  Tacitus, his remarks on prohibited books, ii. 48

  Take say, ii. 11

  Take the whiff, ii. 353

  Take up commodities, ii. 340; iii. 365

  _Tamburlaine_, iii. 25

  Tanakin, ii. 13

  Taw, ii. 376

  Tereus, iii. 266

  Termagant, iii. 240

  There goes but a pair of shears betwixt, i. 290

  Thou'st (= thou must), i. 283

  Thristing, ii. 413

  Thunder, eels roused from the mud by, iii. 347

  _Thus while she sleeps I sorrow for her sake_, iii. 14

  Thwack a jerkin, ii. 405

  Toderers, i. 210

  Too too, ii. 328; iii. 313

  Totter'd, ii. 373

  Touch (= perception), i. 105

  Toy to mock an ape withal, iii. 362

  Tradesmen's wives used as lures to attract customers, ii. 60; iii.
  266, 325

  Tragoedia cothurnata, i. 140

  Travellers, affected solemnity of, i. 12; iii. 274

  Traverse, iii. 394

  Trenchmore, iii. 272

  Tretably, ii. 358

  Trick of twenty, i. 276; ii. 54

  Trot the ring, i. 111, 142; iii. 378

  Trow (= think you?), iii. 74

  Trunk, iii. 31

  Trunk-sleeves, ii. 184

  Truss my hose, i. 10

  Tubrio, iii. 273

  Tumbrel, iii. 262, 346

  Turnmill Street, ii. 16

  Turn-spit dog bound to his wheel, iii. 41

  Tweer, i. 71

  Twelve-penny room, i. 202

  Twinest (= embraces), i. 117

  Twopenny ward, iii. 106


  Ulysses, his counterfeited madness, iii. 15

  Unheal, i. 243

  Unnookt simplicity, i. 163

  Unpaiz'd, i. 144

  Unperegall, ii. 85

  Unshale, i. 215

  Upbraid, iii. 379

  Ure, iii. 312, 329


  Vaunt-guard, iii. 261

  Vaut, ii. 288

  Velure, i. 79

  Via, ii. 20, 43, 133

  Vie, iii. 84

  Vin de monte, ii. 140

  Vincentio Saviolo, iii. 373

  Violets, bridal-beds strewn with, ii. 373

  Virgil imitated, i. 113

  Virginia, early settlers in, iii. 63

  Virgins, popularly supposed to have the right to save the lives of
  criminals, iii. 190

  Virtue, ii. 247

  Vively, ii. 293

  Voluntaries, iii. 261


  Wall-eyed, iii. 133

  Wandering whore, iii. 377

  Wards, treatment of, iii. 314

  Wedlock (= wife), ii. 143; iii. 47

  Weeping Cross, iii. 85

  Welshmen's pride in their gentility, i. 258

  _Westward Ho!_ comedy of, iii. 5

  Westward Ho! (_i.e._, to Tyburn), iii. 27

  Wet finger ("with a wet finger"), ii. 189

  What could I do withal? ii. 214

  When (exclamation of impatience) i. 241; ii. 348, &c.

  _When Arthur first in Court began_, i. 240

  _When Sampson was a tall young man_, iii. 32

  Whiblin, iii. 168

  Whiff, take the, ii. 353

  _Who calls Jeronimo?_ iii. 12

  _Who cries out murther? Lady, was it you?_ iii. 26

  Wighy, i. 56

  Will (= command), i. 125, ii. 305

  Willow garland, ii. 336

  Wimble, i. 58

  Wisards (wise men), i. 159; iii. 335

  With a wanion, iii. 53

  Witches turned into cats, ii. 203

  Without a man (_i.e._, outside of man's sense), ii. 294

  Wolt, i. 27

  Wood, ii. 253

  Woodstock's work, iii. 276

  Woollen caps, ii. 60

  Word (= motto), i. 77, 84; iii. 155

  Wounds of a murdered man supposed to bleed in the presence of the
  murderer, iii. 224

  Wrapt up in the tail of his mother's smock, ii. 407

  Wrinkles, vulgar belief concerning, iii. 135

  Writhled, iii. 326

  Wrought shirt, i. 79


  Xylinum, iii. 288, 342


  Yellow, iii. 123

  You'st (= you must), i. 310


  Zabarella, Giacomo, ii. 363




               PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
                       EDINBURGH AND LONDON.




                        Transcriber's Note:

Punctuation was standardized. Variations in spelling were retained,
e.g. shipwreck'd, shipwracked, shipwrecked, and Abigail, Abigall,
Abigal. Obsolete words, variant spellings, and dialect were not
changed. Words and phrases in Greek were transliterated. Prose
portions of plays were not wrapped so that line numbers would match
the original text.

Words in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like this_. In
footnote 509 [)i] indicates a breve and [=i], a macron.
Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and moved to follow the scene
or section in which the related anchor occurs. There are multiple
anchors for Footnotes 24, 193, 250, 260, 261, 292, and 297.

Changes:

  Eastward Ho:
    Footnote [25]: 'otes' to 'notes'
    Act III, Scene II, stage direction after line 25, 'Enetr' to 'Enter'
    Added anchor for Footnote [167], missing in the original.
  Insatiate Countess:
    Act II,Scene 1, added anchor for Footnote [214], missing in the original.
    Act III, Scene 4, added missing word 'I' to the beginning of line 166.
  Montebank's Masque:
    2 Song, Stanza 3, line 6, 'Bee't' to 'Be 't'
    Familiar Receipts - For Barrenness, 'mik' to 'milk'
    Footnote [509], removed 'of' from 'Huc usque of Xylinum'





End of Project Gutenberg's The Works of John Marston, by John Marston