Ralph. My trusty squire, convey him to the town, Where he may find relief. Adieu, fair knight! [Exeunt Knight and TIM. Enter GEORGE leading one with a patch over his nose. Geo. Puissant knight o' th' Burning Pestle hight, See here another wretch, whom this foul beast Hath scotch'd and scored in this inhuman wise. Ralph. Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth, And what hath been thy usage in this cave. 2 Knight. I am a knight, Sir Pockhole is my And by my birth I am a Londoner, [name, Free by my copy, but my ancestors Were Frenchmen all; and riding hard this way, Upon a trotting horse, my bones did ache; And I, faint knight, to ease my weary limbs, Lit at this cave; when straight this furious fiend, With sharpest instrument of purest steel, Did cut the gristle of my nose away,1 And in the place this velvet plaster stands: Relieve me, gentle knight, out of his hands! 'Wife. Good Ralph, relieve Sir Pockhole and send him away; for in truth his breath stinks.' Ralph. Convey him straight after the other Sir Pockhole, fare you well! [knight. 2 Knight. Kind sir, good night! [Exit with GEORGE. [Cries within. Man. [Within.] Deliver us! Woman. [Within.] Deliver us! Wife. Hark, George, what a woful cry there is! I think some woman lies-in there.' Man. [Within.] Deliver us! Woman. [Within.] Deliver us! Ralph. What ghastly noise is this? Speak, Barbaroso, Or, by this blazing steel thy head goes off! Bar. Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep. Send lower down into the cave, And in a tub that's heated smoking hot, There they may find them, and deliver them. Ralph. Run, squire and dwarf; deliver them with speed. [Exeunt TIM and GEORGE. 'Wife. But will not Ralph kill this giant? Surely, I am afraid, if he let him go he will do as much hurt as ever he did. 'Cit. Not so, mouse, neither, if he could convert him. Wife. Ay, George, if he could convert him; but a giant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a witch, that had the devil's mark about her (God bless us!) that had a giant to her son, that was called Lob-lie-by-the-fire; didst never hear it, George? Enter TIM, leading third Knight, with a glass of lotion in his hand, and GEORGE leading a Woman, with diet-bread and drink. 'Cit. Peace, Nell, here comes the prisoners.' Geo. Here be these pined wretches, manful knight, That for this six weeks have not seen a wight. arms With spear and shield; and in my tender years 1 Barbers were also the surgeons of the time. 2 These patients were probably afflicted with the venereal disease. And stole her from her friends in Turnbull-street,' Another month, if you had not relieved us. 3 Knight. This hath been all the food we have received; But only twice a-day, for novelty, He gave a spoonful of this hearty broth [Exeunt third Knight and Woman. Cit. Cony, I can tell thee the gentlemen like Ralph. Wife. Ay, George, I see it well enough.Gentlemen, thank you all heartily for gracing my man Ralph; and, I promise you, you shall see him oftener.' Bar. Mercy, great knight! I do recant my ill, And henceforth never gentle blood will spill. Ralph. I give thee mercy; but yet shalt thou Upon my Burning Pestle, to perform [swear Thy promise uttered. Bar. I swear and kiss. [Kisses the Pestle. Ralph. Depart then, and amend! Come, squire and dwarf; the sun grows towards his set, The Street before MERRYTHOUGHT's House. Enter Mrs. MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL 'But look, George, here comes Mistress Merrythought and her son Michael.-Now you are welcome, Mistress Merrythought; now Ralph has done, you may go on.' Mrs. Mer. Micke, my boy? Mich. Ay, forsooth, mother! Mrs. Mer. Be merry, Micke; we are at home now; where, I warrant you, you will find the house flung out of the windows. [Singing above.] Hark! hey dogs, hey! this is the old world i'faith with my husband. [If] I get in among them, I'l play them such a lesson, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again!-Why, Master Merrythought! husband! Charles Merrythought! Mer. [Singing at the window above.] And then cry, There boys, there;' why then, We shall be merry within this hour. Mrs. Mer. Why, Charles! do you not know 1 Turnbull-street-a street notorious for its brothels. your own natural wife? I say, open the door, 'Wife. Marry, with a vengeance, I am heartily sorry for the poor gentlewoman! but if I were Go from my window, my dear: The wind and the rain Hark you, Mistress Merrythought, you that walk You come not here, here's none but lads of mettle, 'Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.' Mrs. Mer. Why, Master Merrythought, what am I, that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? Am I not your fellow-feeler, as we may say, in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? Have I not brought you children? are they not like you, Charles? Look upon thine own image, hard-hearted man! and yet for all this Mer. [Singing.] Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy, The weather is warm, Be merry, boys! some light music, and more 'Cit. What if he be, sweetheart? 'Wife. Marry, if he be, George, I'll make bold to tell him he's an ingrant' old man, to use his bedfellow so scurvily. 'Cit. What! how does he use her, honey? 'Wife. Marry come up, Sir Sauce box! I think you'll take his part, will you not? Lord, how hot you are grown! You are a fine man, an' you had a fine dog; it becomes you sweetly! Cit. Nay, prythee, Nell, chide not; for as I am an honest man, and a true Christian grocer, I do not like his doings. 'Wife. I cry you mercy then, George! You know we are all frail, and full of infirmities.D'ye hear, Master Merrythought? May I crave a word with you?' Mer. [At the window.] Strike up, lively lads! Wife. I had not thought in truth, Master Merrythought, that a man of your age and discretion, as I may say, being a gentleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions, could have used so little respect to the weakness of his wife. For your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yokefellow, with whose help you draw through the mire of this transitory world; nay, she's your own rib. And again-" Mer. [Singing.] I come not hither for thee to teach, I would thou hadst kiss'd me under the As thou art a lady gay. 1 ingrant-probably ungrateful. Cit. I prythee, sweet honeysuckle, be content! 'Wife. Give me such words, that am a gentlewoman born? Hang him, hoary rascal! Get me some drink, George; I am almost molten with fretting. Now beshrew his knave's heart for it.' [Citizen exit. Mer. Play me a light lavalto. Come, be frolic; fill the good fellows wine! Mrs. Mer. Why, Master Merrythought, are you disposed to make me wait here? You'll open, I hope; I'll fetch them that shall open else. Mer. Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you something; if not You are no love for me, Margret, I am no love for you. Come aloft, boys, aloft! [Exit from the window. of เ END OF ACT III. Re-enter Citizen with beer. Wife. Come, George; where's the beer 'Cit. Here, love! Wife. This old fornicating fellow will not out my mind yet. Gentlemen, I'll begin to you all; and I desire more of your acquaintance with all my heart. Fill the gentlemen some beer, George. [Boy danceth.] Look, George, the little boy's come again! methinks he looks something like the Prince of Orange in his long stocking, if he had a little harness about his neck. George, I will have him dance Fading;3 Fading is a fine jig, I'll assure you, gentlemen. Begin, brother; now a' capers, sweetheart! now a turn a' th' toe, and then tumble! Cannot you tumble, youth? Boy. No, indeed, forsooth. Wife. Nor eat fire? 'Boy. Neither. 'Wife. Why then, I thank you heartily; there's twopence to buy you points withal.' Jasp. There, my boy; Take it, but buy no land. Boy. 'Faith, sir, 'twere rare To see so young a purchaser. I fly, [Exit. [Exit. Wife. Go thy ways: thou art as crooked a sprig as ever grew in London! I warrant him, he'll come to some naughty end or other; for his looks say no less. Besides, his father (you know, George) is none of the best; you heard him take me up like a flirt-gill, and sing bawdy songs upon me; but i'faith, if I live, George Cit. Let me alone, sweetheart! I have a trick in my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one year, and make him sing peccari, ere I leave him; and yet he shall never know who hurt him neither. Wife. Do, my good George, do! Cit. What shall we have Ralph do now, boy? 'Cit. Why, so, sir? go and fetch me him then, and let the sophy of Persia come and christen him a child. 'Boy. Believe me, sir, that will not do so well; 'tis stale; it has been had before at the Red Bull.3 'Wife. George, let Ralph travel over great hills, and let him be very weary, and come to the King of Cracovia's house, covered with velvet, and there let the king's daughter stand in her window all in beaten gold, combing her golden locks with a comb of ivory; and let her spy Ralph, and fall in love with him, and come down to him, and carry him into her father's house, and then let Ralph talk with her! Cit. Well said, Nell; it shall be so.-Boy, let's ha't done quickly. 'Boy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done already, you shall hear them talk together; but we cannot present a house covered with velvet, and a lady in beaten gold. Cit. Sir Boy, let's ha't as you can then. 'Boy. Besides, it will show ill-favouredly to have a grocer's 'prentice to court a king's daugh ter. Cit. Will it so, sir? You are well read in histories! I pray you, what was Sir Dagonet? Was not he 'prentice to a grocer in London ? Read the play of The Four Prentices of London, where they toss their pikes so. I pray you fetch him in, sir, fetch him in! Boy. It shall be done.-It is not our fault, gentlemen. [Exit. Wife. Now we shall see fine doings, I warrant thee, George. ACT IV.-SCENE II. A Hall in the KING OF MOLDAVIA'S Court." Enter RALPH, TIM, GEORGE, and POMPIONA. Oh, here they come! How prettily the King of Cracovia's daughter is dressed! 1 flirt-gill, or gill-flirt. Gill was a current and familiar term for female, as in the proverb, Every Jack must have his Gill,' said to come from Gillian, i.e. Juliana.NARES. 2 the Arches-probably a prison connected with the Court of Arches.--NARES. the Red Bull-one of the playhouses of the time. The Four Prentices of London-a play by Thomas Heywood. 'Cit. Ay, Nell, it is the fashion of that country, I warrant thee.' Pomp. Welcome, Sir Knight, unto my father's court, King of Moldavia; unto me, Pompiona, Ralph. Damsel right fair, I am on many sad adventures bound, Ralph. My name is Ralph, I am an Englishman men, And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food; To better Nipitato than there is. Pomp. And of a wild fowl he will often speak, Which powder'd beef and mustard called is: For there have been great wars 'twixt us and you; But truly, Ralph, it was not 'long of me. Tell me then, Ralph, could you contented be To wear a lady's favour in your shield? Ralph. I am a knight of a religious order, And will not wear a favour of a lady That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions. 'Cit. Well said, Ralph! convert her, if thou canst.' Ralph. Besides, I have a lady of my own In merry England, for whose virtuous sake I took these arms, and Susan is her name, A cobbler's maid in Milk-street; whom I vow Ne'er to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last. Pomp. Happy that cobbling dame, whoe'er she be, That for her own, dear Ralph, hath gotten thee! Unhappy I, that ne'er shall see the day To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away! Ralph. Lady, farewell! I needs must take my leave. Pomp. Hard-hearted Ralph, that ladies dost deceive! 'Cit. Hark thee, Ralph! there's money for thee. Give something in the King of Cracovia's house; be not beholding to him.' Ralph. Lady, before I go, I must remember And there's another shilling for his cook, 1 Nipitato a sort of jocular title applied in commendation chiefly to ale, but also to other strong liquors. It seems always to imply that the liquor is peculiarly strong and good. Nares thinks it connected with nappy. 1 For 'nointing my horse-back, and for his butter And twopence to the boy that wiped my boots! safe Till all the heads be off, for thy sake, Ralph. Pomp. Thou kill'st my heart in parting thus away. Wife. I commend Ralph yet, that he will not stoop to a Cracovian; there's properer women in London than any are there, I wis. But here comes Master Humphrey and his love again; now, George! 'Cit. Ay, cony, peace!' ACT IV.-SCENE III The House of VENTERWELS. Enter VENTERWELS, Master HUMPHREY, LUCE, and Boy. Vent. Go, get you up! I will not be entreated! And, gossip mine, I'll keep you sure hereafter From gadding out again, with boys and unthrifts: Come, they are women's tears; I know your fashion. Go, sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key [Exeunt LUCE and Boy. Now, my son Humphrey, You may both rest assured of my love Hum. I see this love you speak of, through Although the hole be little; and hereafter Vent. I do believe you, my good son, and thank For 'twere an impudence to think Vent. Well, son, no more of compliment. My Is yours again; appoint the time and take her: And some few of our friends will see you married. Hum. I would you would, i'faith! for be it I ever was afraid to lie alone. Vent. Some three days hence then Hum. Three days? let me see! Enter Servant. Serv. Sir, there's a gentlewoman without would speak with your worship. Vent. What is she? 309 Enter Mrs. MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL. Mrs. Mer. Peace be to your worship! I come as a poor suitor to you, sir, in the behalf of this child. Vent. Are you not wife to Merrythought? his eyes! he has undone me and himself, and his Mrs. Mer. Yes, truly. 'Would I had ne'er seen children; and there he lives at home, and sings and hoits, and revels among his drunken companions! but, I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth he knows not. And therefore, if it like your worship, I would entreat your letter to the honest host of the Bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his tapster, in some settled course of life. Vent. I'm glad the heavens have heard my When I was ripe in sorrows, laugh'd at me; Mrs. Mer. Will you so, sir? how say you by that? Come, Micke; let him keep his wind to cool his pottage! We'll go to thy nurse's, Micke; she knits silk stockings, boy, and we'll knit too, boy, and be beholding to none of them all. Exit with MICHAEL. Enter a Boy with a letter. Boy. Sir, I take it you are the master of this house. Vent. How then, boy? Boy. Then to yourself, sir, comes this letter. Vent. From whom, my pretty boy? Boy. From him that was your servant; but no more Shall that name ever be, for he is dead! Vent. [Reading.] Sir, that I have wrong'd your love I must confess; in which I have purchased to myself, besides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends. Let not your anger, good sir, outlive me, but suffer me to rest in peace with your forgiveness. Let my body (if a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought to your daughter, that she may truly know my hot flames are now buried, and withal receive a testimony of the zeal I bore her virtue. Farewell for ever, and be ever happy! JASPER. God's hand is great in this! I do forgive him; Boy. 'Tis here without, sir. Vent. So, sir; if you please, You may conduct it in; I do not fear it. He owed me something once, and well did pay it. 1 gossip mine-i.e. my daughter; gossip, gossib, godsib, Anglo-Saxon godsibbe, meant originally a sponsor in baptism and also a godchild, and generally a relation; sib is still used in Scotland in the sense of related. ACT IV.-SCENE IV. Another room in the same House. Enter LUCE. Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted Upon the miserable, more than yet I feel, Enter Servant. Serv. By your leave, Young mistress! Here's a boy hath brought a coffin; What a' would say I know not; but your father Charged me to give you notice. Here they come! Enter two Men bearing a coffin, and the Boy, JASPER laid out as a corpse within it, covered with a cloth. Luce. For me I hope 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome. Boy. Fair mistress, let me not add greater grief To that great store you have already. Jasper (That whilst he lived was yours, now dead, And here inclosed) commanded me to bring His body hither, and to crave a tear From those fair eyes (though he deserved not pity), To deck his funeral, for so he bid me Tell her for whom he died. Luce. He shall have many. Good friends, depart a little, whilst I take Hold yet a little, life! and then I give thee me, But ever wert most kind, most true, most loving, Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys, I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death. [She takes off the cloth, and he rises out of the coffin. Jasp. And thus you meet the living. I swear I am no shadow; feel my hand! And set my soul at liberty, than drawn For I am lock'd up here, and watch'd at all hours, That 'tis impossible for me to 'scape. Jasp. Nothing more possible. Within this coffin Do you convey yourself; let me alone, I have the wits of twenty men about me; [She goes into the coffin, and he covers Re-enter Boy and Men. Boy. At hand, sir. [The Men carry out the coffinJasp. Now must I go conjure. [Exit into a chest. Enter VENTERWELS, Vent. Boy, boy! Boy. Your servant, sir. Vent. Do me this kindness, boy (hold, here's a crown), Before thou bury the body of this fellow, Vent. And then bring me word what tune he is in, And have another crown; but do it truly. I have fitted him a bargain, now, will vex him. Boy. God bless your worship's health, sir! Vent. Farewell, Boy! ACT IV. SCENE V. [Exeunt. A Room in MERRYTHOUGHT'S House. Enter Old MERRYTHOUGHT. Wife. Ah, Old Merrythought, art thou there again? Let's hear some of thy songs.' Mer. [Singing.] Who can sing a merrier note, |