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Tread on my neck: I freely offer it;

And, if thou be'st so given, take revenge, For I have injured thee.

Tigr. No; I forgive,

And rejoice more that you have found repentance
Than I my liberty.

Arb. May'st thou be happy.

In thy fair choice, for thou art temperate!
You owe no ransom to the state!

Know that

I have a thousand joys to tell you of,

Which yet I dare not utter, till I pay

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291

Arb. Take then your fair one with you.-And

you, queen

Of goodness and of us, oh, give me leave
To take your arm in mine!
That takes delight in goodness, help to sing
Come, every one
Loud thanks for me that I am proved No King!
[Exeunt.

THE KNIGHT OF THE BURNING PESTLE.

London.

1613.1

PROLOGUE,

FROM THE SECOND EDITION (1635).

WHERE the bee can suck no honey, she leaves her sting behind; and where the bear cannot find origanum to heal his grief, he blasteth all the other leaves with his breath. We fear it is like to fare so with us; that, seeing you cannot draw from our labours sweet content, you leave behind you a sour mislike, and with open reproach blame our good meaning, because you cannot reap the wonted mirth. Our intent was at this time to move inward delight, not outward lightness; and to breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laughing; knowing it, to the wise, to be a great pleasure to hear counsel

mixed with wit, as to the foolish to have sport mingled with rudeness. They were banished the theatre of Athens, and from Rome hissed, that brought parasites on the stage, with apish actions, or fools with uncivil habits, or courtezans with immodest words. We have endeavoured your ears glow, as we hope you will be free from to be as far from unseemly speeches, to make tion, who never aimed at any one particular, in unkind reports, or mistaking the author's intenthis play, to make our cheeks blush. And thus I leave it, and thee to thine own censure, to like or dislike.-VALE.

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MASTER HUMPHREY, a Friend to the Merchant.

OLD MASTER MERRYTHOUGHT, Father of JASPER

and MICHAEL.

Tapster.

Three supposed Knights.
A Captain.

WILLIAM HAMERTON.
GEORGE GREENGOOSE.
Sergeant.

Soldiers.

Boy, that danceth and singeth.

MICHAEL, Second Son of MISTRESS MERRY-LUCE, the Merchant's Daughter, beloved of and

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SCENE-London, and the neighbouring Country, excepting Act IV., Scene II., where it is in Moldavia.

1 It is uncertain whether this excellent burlesque comedy was the joint production of both Beaumont and Fletcher, or whether only one of them should get the credit of it. burlesque was suggested by Don Quixote. A. W. Schlegel calls it an incomparable and singular work of its kind,' and that although the thought is borrowed from Don Quixote, the imitation is handled with freedom, It is generally supposed that the idea of the and so particularly applied to Spencer's Fairy Queen, that it may pass for a second invention.'

2 origanum-wild marjoram,

INDUCTION.

Enter Speaker of the Prologue. The Citizen, his Wife, and RALPH, sitting below the stage among the Spectators. Several Gentlemen sitting upon the Stage.1

Prologue. From all that's near the court, from all that's great

Within the compass of the city walls,
We now have brought our scene--

Citizen leaps upon the Stage.

Cit. Hold your peace, goodman boy!
Prol. What do you mean, sir?

Cit. That you have no good meaning. This seven years there hath been plays at this house, I have observed it, you have still girds at citizens; and now you call your play The London Merchant. Down with your title, boy, down with your title!

Prol. Are you a member of the noble city?
Cit. I am.

Prol. And a freeman?

Cit. Yea, and a grocer. Prol. So, grocer; then, by your sweet favour, we intend no abuse to the city.

Cit. No, sir? yes, sir; if you were not resolved to play the Jacks, what need you study for new subjects, purposely to abuse your betters? Why could not you be contented, as well as others, with the legend of Whittington, or the Life and Death of Sir Thomas Gresham, with the building of the Royal Exchange? or the story of Queen Eleanor, with the rearing of London Bridge upon woolsacks?4

Prol. You seem to be an understanding man; what would you have us do, sir?

Cit. Why, present something notably in honour of the commons of the city.

Prol. Why, what do you say to the Life and Death of fat Drake, or the Repairing of Flect Privies? 4

Cit. I do not like that; but I will have a citizen, and he shall be of my own trade.

Prol. Oh, you should have told us your mind a month since; our play is ready to begin now. Cit. 'Tis all one for that; I will have a grocer, and he shall do admirable things.

Prol. What will you have him do?
Cit. Marry, I will have him-

Wife. [Below.] Husband, husband!
Ralph. Below.] Peace, mistress!

Wife. Hold thy peace, Ralph; I know what I do, I warrant thee. Husband, husband! Cit. What say'st thou, cony?

Wife. Let him kill a lion with a Pestle, husband! let him kill a lion with a Pestle! Cit. So he shall; I'll have him kill a lion with a Pestle.

Wife. Husband! shall I come up, husband? Cit. Ay, cony. - Ralph, help your mistress this way.-Pray, gentlemen, make her a little room. I pray you, sir, lend me your hand to help up my wife. I thank you, sir; so!

[Wife comes upon the Stage.

1 The practice of accommodating gallants with seats on the stage, is often alluded to in old plays; and they commonly paid from a sixpence to a shilling for a stool, according to the value of the seat.-WEBER.

2 girds-gibes, sarcasms. See note 7, p. 49, col. 1. 3 play the Jacks. This seems to have been a proverbial expression at the time.

They were all probably names of contemporary plays.

Wife. By your leave, gentlemen all! I'm something troublesome. I'm a stranger here; I was ne'er at one of these plays, as they say, before; but I should have seen Jane Shore' once; and my husband hath promised me, any time this twelvemonth, to carry me to the Bold Beauchamps, but in truth he did not. I pray you bear with me.

Cit. Boy, let my wife and I have a couple of stools, and then begin; and let the grocer do rare things.

[Stools are brought, and they sit down. Prol. But, sir, we have never a boy to play him. Every one hath a part already.

Wife. Husband, husband, for God's sake, let Ralph play him! Beshrew me, if I do not think he will go beyond them all.

Cit. Well remember'd, wife.-Come up, Ralph! I'll tell you, gentlemen; let them but lend him a suit of reparrel, and necessaries, and, by gad, if any of them all blow wind in the tail on him, I'll be hanged! [RALPH comes on the Stage. Wife. I pray you, youth, let him have a suit of reparrel. I'll be sworn, gentlemen, my husband tells you true. He will act you sometimes at our house, that all the neighbours cry out on him; he will fetch you up a couraging part so in the garret, that we are all as feared, I warrant you, that we quake again. We'll fear our children with him; if they be never so unruly, do but cry, Ralph comes, Ralph comes!' to them, and they'll be as quiet as lambs.-Hold up thy head, Ralph; show the gentleman what thou canst do; speak a huffing part; I warrant you the gentlemen will accept of it.

Cit. Do, Ralph, do.

Ralph. By Heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap

To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the sea,

Where never fathom-line touch'd any ground, And pluck up drowned honour from the lake of

hell.

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Cit. What stately music have you? you have shaums? 1

Prol. Shaums? No.

Cit. No? I'm a thief if my mind did not give me so. Ralph plays a stately part, and he must needs have shaums. I'll be at the charge of them myself, rather than we'll be without them. Prol. So you are like to be.

Cit. Why, and so I will be. There's two shillings; lets have the waits of Southwark! they are as rare fellows as any are in England, and that will fetch them o'er the water, with a vengeance, as if they were mad. Prol. You shall have them. then?

Cit. Ay.-Come, wife.

Will you sit down

Wife. Sit you merry all, gentlemen; I'm bold to sit amongst you for my ease.

Prol. From all that's near the court, from all that's great

Within the compass of the city walls,

We now have brought our scene: Fly far from

hence

All private taxes, [all] immodest phrases,
Whatever may but show like vicious!

For wicked mirth never true pleasure brings,
But honest minds are pleased with honest things.-
Thus much for what we do; but, for Ralph's
part, you must answer for yourself.

Cit. Take you no care for Ralph; he'll discharge himself, I warrant you.

Wife. I' faith, gentlemen, I'll give my word for Ralph.

ACT I.-SCENE I.

A Room in the House of VENTERWELS.

Enter VENTERWELS and JASPER.

She is private to herself, and best of knowledge
Whom she will make so happy as to sigh for.
Besides, I cannot think you mean to match her
One that hath little left of nature in him.
Unto a fellow of so lame a presence,

Vent. "Tis very well, sir; I can tell your wisdom
How all this shall be cured.

Jasp. Your care becomes you.

Vent. And thus it must be, sir: I here dis-
charge you

And when I want a son, I'll send for you. [Exit.
My house and service; take your liberty;
Jasp. These be the fair rewards of them that
love.

Oh, you that live in freedom never prove
The travail of a mind led by desire!

Enter LUCE.

Luce. Why, how now, friend? struck with my
father's thunder?

Jasp. Struck, and struck dead, unless the
remedy

Be full of speed and virtue; I am now,
What I expected long, no more your father's.
Luce. But mine?

I am;
Jasp. But yours, and only yours,
That's all I have to keep me from the statute.
You dare be constant still?

Luce. Oh, fear me not!

In this I dare be better than a woman.
Nor shall his anger nor his offers move me,
Were they both equal to a prince's power.
Jasp. You know my rival?

Luce. Yes, and love him dearly;
Even as I love an ague, or foul weather:
I pr'ythee, Jasper, fear him not!
Jasp. Oh, no;

I do not mean to do him so much kindness.
But to our own desires: you know the plot
We both agreed on?

Luce. Yes, and will perform

Vent. Sirrah, I'll make you know you are my My part exactly.
prentice,

And whom my charitable love redeem'd

Even from the fall of fortune; gave thee heat

And growth, to be what now thou art, new-cast thee;

Adding the trust of all I have, at home,

In foreign staples, or upon the sea,

To thy direction; tied the good opinions
Both of myself and friends to thy endeavours;
So fair were thy beginnings. But with these,
As I remember, you had never charge

To love your master's daughter; and even then
When I had found a wealthy husband for her;
I take it, sir, you had not. But, however,
I'll break the neck of that commission,
And make you know you're but a merchant's
factor.

Jasp. Sir, I do liberally confess I am yours,
Bound both by love and duty to your service,
In which my labour hath been all my profit;
I have not lost in bargain, nor delighted
To wear your honest gains upon my back;
Nor have I given a pension to my blood,
Or lavishly in play consumed your stock:
These, and the miseries that do attend them,
I dare with innocence proclaim are strangers
To all my temperate actions. For your daughter,
If there be any love to my deservings
Borne by her virtuous self, I cannot stop it;
Nor am I able to refrain her wishes:

1 shaums-see note 3, p. 64, col. 2.

2 All private taxes-i.e. all private taskings,' or reflections on individuals.-WEBER.

Jasp. I desire no more.

Farewell, and keep my heart; 'tis yours.
Luce. I take it;

He must do miracles, makes me forsake it.

[Exeunt.

'Cit. Fy upon 'em, little infidels! what a Well, I'll be hang'd for a matter's here now? halfpenny, it there be not some abomination knavery in this play. Well; let 'em look to't; Ralph must come, and if there be any tricks abrewing

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Wife. Let 'em brew and bake too, husband, a' God's name; Ralph will find all out, I warrant you, an they were older than they are.-I pray, my pretty youth, is Ralph ready?

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Boy. He will be presently.

Wife. Now, I pray you, make my commendations unto him, and withal, carry him this stick of liquorice; tell him his mistress sent it him; and bid him bite a piece; 'twill open his pipes [Exit Boy. the better, say.'

Enter VENTERWELS and Master HUMPHREY.
Vent. Come, sir, she's yours; upon my faith,

she's yours;

You have my hand: for other idle lets 2
Between your hopes and her, thus with a wind
They are scattered, and no more. My wanton
prentice,

That like a bladder blew himself with love,

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I have let out, and sent him to discover
New masters yet unknown.

Hum. I thank you, sir,

Indeed I thank you, sir; and, ere I stir,
It shall be known, however you do deem,
I am of gentle blood, and gentle seem.
Vent. Oh, sir, I know it certain.
Hum. Sir, my friend,

Although, as writers say, all things have end,
And that we call a pudding hath his two,
Oh, let it not seem strange, I pray to you,
If in this bloody simile I put

My love, more endless than frail things or gut.

Wife. Husband, I pr'ythee, sweet lamb, tell me one thing; but tell me truly.-Stay, youths, I beseech you, till I question my husband. Cit. What is it, mouse?

'Wife. Sirrah, didst thou ever see a prettier child? How it behaves itself, I warrant ye! and speaks, and looks, and perts up the head! I pray you, brother, with your favour, were you never none of Master Moncaster's scholars?

Cit. Chicken, I pr'ythee heartily contain thyself; the childer 2 are pretty childer; but when Ralph comes, lamb

Wife. Ay, when Ralph comes, cony!-Well, my youth, you may proceed.'

Vent. Well, sir; you know my love, and rest, I hope,

Assured of my consent; get but my daughter's, And wed her when you please. You must be bold,

And clap in close unto her; come, I know
You have language good enough to win a wench.
Wife. A whoresome tyrant! 'hath been an old
stringer in his days, I warrant him!'

Hum. I take your gentle offer, and withal
Yield love again for love reciprocal.
Vent. What, Luce! within there!

Enter LUCE.

Luce. Call'd you, sir?
Vent. I did;

Give entertainment to this gentleman;
And see you be not froward.-To her, sir!
My presence will but be an eyesore to you.

[Exit.

Hum. Fair Mistress Luce, how do you? are you well?

Give me your hand, and then I pray you tell
How doth your little sister, and your brother?
And whether you love me or any other?

Luce. Sir, these are quickly answered.
Hum. So they are,

Where women are not cruel. But how far
Is it now distant from the place we are in,
Unto that blessed place, your father's warren?
Luce. What makes you think of that, sir?
Hum. Even that face;

For stealing rabbits whilome in that place,

God Cupid, or the keeper, I know not whether, Unto my cost and charges brought you thither, And there began

Luce. Your game, sir?

Hum. Let no game,

Or anything that tendeth to the same,
Be ever more remember'd, thou fair killer,
For whom I sate me down and brake my tiller.

1 Moncaster, or rather Mulcaster, was appointed master of Merchant Tailor's School at its original institution in 1561-WEBER.

childer-this old plural of child is still in use in

Scotland.

3 stringer-same as striker, i.e. libertine. 4 tiler-a cross-bow.

6

Wife. There's a kind gentleman, I warrant you; when will you do as much for me, George?' Luce. Beshrew me, sir, I'm sorry for your losses;

But, as the proverb says, 'I cannot cry;'
I would you had not seen me!
Hum. So would I,

Unless you had more maw to do me good.
Luce. Why, cannot this strange passion be
withstood?

Send for a constable, and raise the town.

Hum. Oh, no, my valiant love will batter down Millions of constables, and put to flight Even that great watch of Midsummer-day at night.1

Luce. Beshrew me, sir, 'twere good I yielded then;

Weak women cannot hope, where valiant men
Have no resistance.

Hum. Yield then; I am full
Of pity, though I say it, and can pull
Out of my pocket thus a pair of gloves.
Look, Lucy, look; the dog's tooth, nor the dove's,
Are not so white as these; and sweet they be,
And whipt about with silk, as you may see.
If you desire the price, shoot from your eye
A beam to this place, and you shall espy
FS, which is to say, my sweetest honey,
They cost me three and twopence or no money.
Luce. Well, sir, I take them kindly, and I
thank you:

What would you more?

Hum. Nothing.

Luce. Why, then, farewell!

Hum. Nor so, nor so; for, lady, I must tell, Before we part for what we met together; God grant me time, and patience, and fair weather!

Luce. Speak, and declare your mind in terms so brief.

Hum. I shall; then first and foremost, for relief I call to you, if that you can afford it;

I care not at what price, for on my word, it
Shall be repaid again, although it cost me
More than I'll speak of now; for love hath toss'd

me

In furious blanket like a tennis-ball,
And now I rise aloft, and now I fall.

Luce. Alas, good gentleman, alas the day!
Hum. I thank you heartily; and, as I say,
Thus do I still continue without rest,

I' th' morning like a man, at night a beast,
Roaring and bellowing mine own disquiet,
That much I fear, forsaking of my diet
Will bring me presently to that quandary,
I shall bid all adieu.

Luce. Now, by St. Mary,
That were great pity!

Hum. So it were, beshrew me ;

Then ease me, lusty Luce, and pity show me. Luce. Why, sir, you know my will is nothing worth

Without my father's grant; get his consent,
And then you may with assurance try me.

Hum. The worshipfal your sire will not deny me, For I have ask'd him, and he hath replied, 'Sweet Master Humphrey, Luce shall be thy bride.'

Luce. Sweet Master Humphrey, then I am content.

Hum. And so am I, in truth.

1 This probably alludes to a custom of celebrating the vigil of St. John the Baptist after sunset, when, among other things, 2000 men perambulated the streets. -WEBER.

Luce. Yet take me with you;
There is another clause must be annex'd,
And this it is: I swore, and will perform it,
No man shall ever 'joy me as his wife,

But he that stole me hence. If you dare venture, I'm yours (you need not fear; my father loves you);

If not, farewell for ever!

Hum. Stay, nymph, stay!

have a double gelding, colour'd bay, Sprung by his father from Barbarian kind; Another for myself, though somewhat blind, Yet true as trusty tree.

Luce. I am satisfied;

And so I give my hand. Our course must lie
Through Waltham-Forest, where I have a friend
Will entertain us. So farewell, Sir Humphrey,
And think upon your business! [Exit LUCE.
Hum. Though I die,

I am resolved to venture life and limb,
For one so young, so fair, so kind, so trim.

[Exit HUMPHREY. 'Wife. By my faith and troth, George, and as I am virtuous, it is e'en the kindest young man that ever trod on shoe-leather. Well, go thy ways; if thou hast her not, 'tis not thy fault, faith.

Cit. I pr'ythee, mouse, be patient! a' shall have her, or I'll make some of 'em smoke for't.

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Enter RALPH, like a Grocer, with two Apprentices, reading Palmerin of England.

'Wife. Oh, husband, husband, now, now! there's Ralph, there's Ralph.'

'Cit. Peace, fool! let Ralph alone.-Hark you, Ralph; do not strain yourself too much at the first. Peace! Begin, Ralph.'

Ralph. [Reads.] Then Palmerin and Trineus, snatching their lances from their dwarfs, and clasping their helmets, galloped amain after the giant; and Palmerin having gotten a sight of him, came posting amain, saying, 'Stay, traitorous thief! for thou mayst not so carry away her, that is worth the greatest lord in the

world, and, with these words, gave him a blow on the

shoulder, that he struck him besides his elephant. And Trineus coming to the knight that had Agricola behind him, set him soon besides his horse, with his neck broken in the fall; so that the princess getting out of the throng, between joy and grief, said, 'All happy knight, the mirror of all such as follow aims, now may I be well assured of the love thou bearest me.'3

I wonder why the kings do not raise an army of fourteen or fifteen hundred thousand men, as big as the army that the Prince of Portigo brought against Rosicler, and destroy these giants; they do much hurt to wandering damsels, that go in quest of their knights.

1 a'-he.

2 tobacco. At the time our authors wrote, tobacco, wine, and beer, were the usual accommodations in the theatre.-REED.

3 This passage is taken, with some slight variations, from Palmerin D'Oliva, the Mirror of Nobility, Map of Honour, &c., and most accomplished Knight in all Perfections (1588).-REED.

4 These were characters in the celebrated Espeio de Caballenso, one of the romances condemned by the curate in Don Quixote to the flames.-WEBER.

'Wife. 'Faith, husband, and Ralph says true; for they say the King of Portugal cannot sit at his meat, but the giants and the ettins' will come and snatch it from him.

Cit. Hold thy tongue.-On, Ralph!' Ralph. And certainly those knights are much to be commended, who, neglecting their possessions, wander with a squire and a dwarf through the deserts, to relieve poor ladies.

'Wife. Ay, by my faith are they, Ralph; let 'em say what they will, they are indeed. Our knights neglect their possessions well enough, but they do not the rest.'

Ralph. There are no such courteous and fair well-spoken knights in this age. But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his shop, with a flappet of 'wood, and a blue apron before him, selling Methridatam2 and dragon's water to visited houses, that might pursue feats of arms, and, through his noble achievements, procure such a famous history to be written of his heroic prowess?

Cit. Well said, Ralph; some more of those words, Ralph!

Wife. They go finely, by my troth.' Ralph. Why should not I then pursue this course, both for the credit of myself and our company? for amongst all the worthy books of achievements, I do not call to mind that I yet read of a Grocer-Errant; I will be the said Knight -Have you heard of any that hath wandered unfurnished of his squire and dwarf? My elder prentice Tim shall be my trusty squire, and little George my dwarf. Hence, my blue apron! Yet, in remembrance of my former trade, upon my shield shall be portrayed a Burning Pestle, and I will be called the Knight of the Burning Pestle.

'Wife. Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old trade; thou wert ever meek.' Ralph. Tim!

Tim. Anon.

Ralph. My beloved squire, and George my dwarf, charge you that from henceforth you never call me by any other name but the Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle; and that you never call any female by the name of a woman or wench, but fair lady, if she have her desires; if not, distressed damsel; that you call all forests and heaths, deserts, and all horses, palfries!

Wife. This is very fine!-'Faith, do the gentlemen like Ralph, think you, husband?

Cit. Ay, I warrant thee; the players would give all the shoes in their shop for him.'

Ralph. My beloved squire Tim, stand out. Admit this were a desert, and over it a knighterrant pricking, and I should bid you inquire of his intents, what would you say?

Tim. Sir, my master sent me to know whither you are riding??

Ralph. No! thus: Fair sir! the Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle commanded me to inquire upon what adventure you are bound, whether to relieve some distressed damsels, or otherwise.'

Cit. Whoreson blockhead, cannot remember! 'Wife. I'faith, and Ralph told him on't before;

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