6

your own natural wife ?

say, open the door, • Wife. Marry, with a vengeance, I am heartily and turn me out those mangy companions; 'tis sorry for the poor gentlewoman! but if I were more than time that they were fellow and fellow- thy wife, i'faith, greybeard, i'faithlike with you. You are a gentleman, Charles, Cit. I prythee, sweet honeysuckle, be content! and an old man, and father of two children; and • Wife. Give me such words, that am a gentleI myself (though I say it), by my mother's side, woman born ? Hang him, hoary rascal! Get niece to a worshipful gentleman, and a conduc me some drink, George; I am almost molten with tor; he has been three times in his Majesty's fretting. Now beshrew his knave's heart for it.' service at Chester; and is now the fourth time,

[Citizen exit. God bless him and his charge, upon his journey. Mer. Play me a light lavalto. Come, be frolic;

fill the good fellows wine! Mer. (Singing.) Go from my window, love, go; Go from my window, my dear:

Mrs. Mer. Why, Master Merrythought, are you The wind and the rain

disposed to make me wait here? You'll open, I Will drive you back again,

hope ; I'll fetch them that shall open else. You cannot be lodged here.

Mer. Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give Hark you, Mistress Merrythought, you that walk

you something; if notupon adventures, and forsake your husband, be

You are no love for me, Marg'ret, cause he sings with never a penny in his purse;

I am no love for you. what, shall I think myself the worse ? Faith no, I'll be merry.

[Singing.

Come aloft, boys, aloft! (Exit from the window.

Mrs. Mer. Now a churl's fart in your teeth, sir! You come not here, here's none but lads of mettle, Come, Micke, we'll not trouble him; a' shall not Lives of a hundred years, and upwards,

ding us i' th' teeth with his bread and his broth, Care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them that he shall not. Come, boy; I'll provide for

warble * Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.'

thee, I warrant thee. We'll go to Master Ven

terwels, the merchant: I'll get his letter to mine Mrs. Mer. Why, Master Merrythought, what host of the Bell in Waltham; there I'll place thee am I, that you should laugh me to scorn thus with the tapster; will not that do well for thee, abruptly? Am I not your fellow-feeler, as we Micke? and let me alone for that old cuckoldly may say, in all our miseries? your comforter in koave your father! I'll use him in his kind, health and sickness? Have I not brought you warrant you!

[Exeunt. children? are they not like you, Charles ? Look upon thine own image, hard-hearted man! and

END OF ACT III. yet for all this

Re-enter Citizen with beer.
Mer. [Singing.) Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy, Wife. Come, George; where's the beer
Begone, my love, my dear!

Cit. Here, love!
The weather is warm,
"Twill do thee no harm;

Wife. This old fornicating fellow will not out
Thou canst not be lodged here.

of my mind yet. Gentlemen, I'll begin to you

all; and I desire more of your acquaintance with Be merry, boys! some light music, and more

all my heart. Fill the gentlemen some beer, wine!

[Exit from above. George. [Boy danceth.) Look, George, the little • Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope, George; is boy's come again! methinks he looks something he?

like the Prince of Orange in his long stocking, if • Cit. What if he be, sweetheart?

he had a little harness: about his neck. George, Wife. Marry, if he be, George, I'll make bold I will have him dance Fading ;3 Fading is a line to tell him he's an ingrant' old man, to use his jig, I'll assure you, gentlemen. Begin, brother; bedfellow so scurvily.

now a' capers, sweetheart! now a turn a'th' toe, . Cit. What! how does he use her, honey? and then tumble! Cannot you tumble, youth? • Wife. Marry come up, Sir Saucebox! I think

Boy. No, indeed, forsooth. you'll take his part, will you not? Lord, how hot Wife. Nor eat fire ? you are grown! You are a fine man, an' you had Boy. Neither. a fine dog; it becomes you sweetly!

• Wife. Why then, I thank you heartily; there's • Cit. Nay, prythee, Nell

, chide not; for as I twopence to buy you points * withal.' 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.

AOT IV.-SCENE I.
D'ye hear, Master Merry thought? May I crave
a word with you?'

A Street.
Mer. [At the window.) Strike up, lively lads !
Wife. I had not thought in truth, Master

Enter JASPER and Boy.
Merrythought, that a man of your age and dis-

Jasp. There, boy ; deliver this. But do it well. cretion, as I may say, being a gentleman, and

Hast thou provided me four lusty fellows, therefore known by your gentle conditions, could

Able to carry me

and art thou perfect have used so little respect to the weakness of his

In all thy business? wife. For your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yokeiellow, with whose help I have my lesson here, and cannot miss it.

Boy. Sir, you need not fear; you draw through the mire of this transitory The men are ready for you, and what else world; nay, she's your own rib. And again,

Pertains to this employment.
Mer. (Singing.) I come not hither for thee to teach,

I have no pulpit for thee to preach,
I would thou hadst kiss'd me under the 1 larallo. See note 1, p. 87, col. 1.
breech,

2 harness-armour.
As thou art a lady gay.

3 Fading--the name of an Irish dance, and a common burden for a song.--NARES.

4 points--tagged laces, used in tying any part of the 1 ingrant-probably ungrateful.

dress.- NARES.

6

Jasp. There, my boy;

* Cit. Ay, Nell, it is the fashion of that country, Take it, but buy no land.

I warrant thee.' Boy. 'Faith, sir, 'twere rare

Pomp. Welcome, Sir Knight, unto my father's To see so young a purchaser. I fiy,

court, And on my wings carry your destiny. (Exit. King of Moldavia ; unto me. Pompiona, I)

Jasp. Go, and be happy! Now my latest hope, His daughter dear! But sure you do not like Forsake me not, but fling thy anchor out,

Your entertainment, that will stay with us
And let it hold! Stand fix'd, thou rolling stone, No longer but a night.
Till I enjoy my dearest! Hear me, all

Ralph. Damsel right fair,
You powers, that rule in men, celestial! [Exit. I am on many sad adventures bound,

Wife. Go thy ways: thou art as crooked a That call me forth into the wilderness. sprig as ever grew in London! I warrant him, Besides, my horse's back is something gallid he'll come to some naughty end or other; for his which will enforce me ride a sober pace. looks say no less. Besides, his father (you know, But many thanks, fair lady, be to you, George) is none of the best; you heard hirn take For using errant-knight with courtesy ! me up like a flirt-gill, and sing bawdy songs Pomp. But say, brave knight, what is your upon me; but i'faith, if I live, George

name and birth? Cit. Let me alone, sweetheart! I have a trick Ralph. My name is Ralph, I am an Englishman in my head shall lodge him in the Arches: for (As true as steel, a hearty Englishman), one year, and make him sing peccari, ere I leave | And 'prentice to a grocer in the Strand, him; and yet he shall never know who hurt him | By deed indent, of which I have ons part: neither,

But Fortune calling me to follow arms, • Wife. Do, my good George, do!

On me this holy order I did take • Cit. What shall we have Ralph do now, boy? Of Burning Pestle, which in all men's eyes 'Boy. You shall have what you will, sir. I bear, confounding ladies' enemies.

Cit. Why, so, sir? go and fetch me him then, Pomp. Oft have I heard of your brave countryand let the sophy of Persia come and christen him men, a child.

And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food; ' Boy. Believe me, sir, that will not do so well; | My father oft will tell me of a drink 'tis stale; it has been had before at the Red Bull.3 In England found, and Nipitato: call'd.

• Wife. George, let Ralph travel over great hills, which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts. and let him be very weary, and come to the King Ralph. Lady, 'tis true; you need not lay your of Cracovia's house, covered with velvet, and there lips let the king's daughter stand in her window all To better Nipitato than there is. iz beaten gold, combing her golden locks with a Pomp. And of a wild fowl he will often speak, comb of ivory; and let her spy Ralph, and fall in which powder'd beef and mustard called is: love with him, and come down to him, and carry For there have been great wars 'twixt us and you; him into her father's house, and then let Ralph But truly, Ralpn, it was not 'long of me. talk with her!

Tell me then, Ralph, could you contented be Cit. Well said, Nell; it shall be so.-Boy, let's To wear a lady's favour in your shield ? ha't done quickly.

Ralph. I am a knight of a religious order, ‘Boy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be | And will not wear a favour of a lady done already, you shall hear them talk together; That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions. but we cannot present a house covered with • Cit. Well said, Ralph! convert her, if thou velvet, and a lady in beaten gold.

canst.' • Cil. Sir Boy, let's ha't as you can then.

Ralph. Besides, I have a lady of my own • Boy. Besides, it will show ill-favouredly to In merry England, for whose virtuous sako have a grocer's 'prentice to court a king's daugh- I took these arms, and Susan is her name, ter.

A cobbler's maid in Milk-street ; whom I vow . Cit. Will it so, sir? You are well read in Ne'er to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last. histories! I pray you, what was Sir Dagonet? Pomp. Happy that cobbling dame, whoe'er she Was not he 'prentice to a grocer in London ? be, Read the play of The Four Prentices of London, That for her own, dear Ralph, hath gotten thee! where they toss their pikes so. I pray you fetch Unhappy I, that ne'er shall see the day him in, sir, fetch him in!

To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away! * Boy. It shall be done. It is not our fault, Ralph. Lady, farewell! I needs must take my gentlemen.

[Exit.

leave. • Wife. Now we shall see fine doings, I war Pomp. Hard-hearted Ralph, that ladies dost rant thce, George.

deceive! • Cit. Hark thee, Ralph! there's money for

thee. Give something in the King of Cracovia's ACT IV.-SCENE II.

house; be not bebolding to him.' A Hall in the KING OF MOLDAVIA's Court.

Ralph. Lady, before I go, I must remember

Your father's officers, who, truth to tell, Enter RALPH, TIM, GEORGE, and POMPIONA. Have been about me very diligent. Oh, here they come! How prettily the King of Hold up thy snowy band, thou princely maid; Cracovia's daughter is dressed !

There's twelve-pence for your father's chamber

lain;

And there's another shilling for his cook, flirt-gill, or gill-flirt. Gill was a current and familiar

For, by my troth, the goose was roasted well ; term for female, as in the proverb, * Every Jack must And twelve-pence for your father's horsekeeper, have his Gill,' said to come from Gillian, i.e. Juliana.NARES.

" the Arches-probably a prison connected with the Court of Arches. --Nares.

I Nipilato-a sort of jocular title applied in commen3 the Red Bull-one of the playhouses of the time. dation chiefly to ale, but also to other strong liquors.

* The Four Prentices of London--a play by Thomas It seems always to imply that the liquor is peculiarly Heywood,

strong and good. Nares thinks it connected with nappy.

For 'nointing my horse-back, and for his butter
There is another shilling; to the maid

Enter Mrs. MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL. That wash'd my boot-hose, there's an English Mrs. Mer. Peace be to your worship! I come groat;

as a poor suitor to you, sir, in the behalf of this And twopence to the boy that wiped my boots ! child. And, last, fair lady, there is for yourself

Vent. Are you not wife to Merrythought? Threepence, to buy you pins at Bumbo-fair! Mrs. Mer. "Yes, truly. 'Would I had ne'er seen Pomp. Full many thanks; and I will keep thom his eyes! he has undone me and himself, and his sate

children; and there he lives at home, and sings Till all the heads be off, for thy sake, Ralph. and hoits, and revels among his drunken comRalph. Advance, my squire and dwarf! I can- panions! but, I warrant you, where to get a not stay.

penny to put bread in his mouth he knows not. Pomp. Thou kill'st my heart in parting thus And therefore, if it like your worship, I would away.

Exeunt. entreat your letter to the honest host of the Bell Wife. I commend Ralph yet, that he will not in Waltham, that I may place my child under stoop to a Cracovian; there's properer women in the protection of his tapster, in some settled London than any are there, I wis. But here course of life. comes Master Humphrey and his love again; Vent. I'm glad the heavens have heard my now, George!

prayers! Thy husband, • Cit. Ay, cony, peace!'

When I was ripe in sorrows, laugh'd at me;
Thy son, like an unthankful wretch, I having
Redeem'd hin from his fall, and made him mine,

To show his love again, first stole my daughter,
ACT IV.-SCENE III.

Then wrong'd this gentleman; and, last of all,

Gave me that grief bad almost brought me down The House of VENTERWELS.

Unto my grave, had not a stronger hand Enter VENTERWELS, Master HUMPHREY, LUCE, Relieved my sorrows. Go, and weep as I did, and Boy.

And be unpitied; for I here profess

An everlasting hate to all thy name. Vent. Go, get you up! I will not be entreated! Mrs. Mer. Will you so, sir ? how say you by And, gossip mine, I'll keep you sure hereafter that? Come, Micke ; let him keep his wind to From gadding out again, with boys and unthrifts: cool his pottage! We'll go to thy nurse's, Micke; Come, they are women's tears; I know your she knits silk stockings, boy, and we'll knit too, fashion.

boy, and be beholding to none of them all. Go, sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key

[Exit with MICHAEL. Safe as you love your life. [Exeunt LUCE and Boy.

Enter a Boy with a letter.
Now, my son Huinphrey,

Boy. Sir, I take it you are the master of this You may both rest assured of my love

house. In this, and reap your own desire.

Vent. How then, boy? Hum. I see this love you speak of, through Boy. Then to yourself, sir, comes this letter. your daughter,

Vent. From whom, my pretty boy ? Although the hole be little ; and hereafter

Boy. From him that was your servant; but no Will yield the like in all I may or can, Fitting a Christian and a gentleman.

Shall that name ever be, for he is dead! Vent. I do believe you, my good son, and thank

Grief of your purchased anger broke his heart: you;

I saw him die, and from his band received For 't were an impudence to think you flatter'd.

This paper, with a charge to bring it hither: Hum. It were indeed; but shall I tell you why? Read it, and satisfy yourself in all. I have been beaten twice about the lie. Vent. Well, son, no more of compliment. My

Vent. (Reading.) Sir, that I have wrongd your love I daughter

must confess; in which I have purchased to myself, be

sides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends. Is yours again; appoint the time and take her:

Let not your anger, good sir, outlive ine, but suffer me We'll have no stealing for it; I myself

to rest in peace with your forgiveness. Let my body (if And some few of our friends will see you a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought married.

to your daughter, that she may truly know my hot flames Hum. I would you would, i'faith! for be it

are now buried, and withal receive a testimony of the known,

zeal I bore her virtue. Farewell for ever, and be ever happy!

JASPER. I ever was afraid to lie alone. Vent. Some three days hence then

God's hand is great in this! I do forgive him; Hum. Three days ? let me see !

Yet I am glad he's quiet, where I hope 'Tis somewhat of the most; yet I agree,

He will not bite again. Boy, bring the body, Because I mean against the appointed day And let him havo his will, if that be all. To visit all my friends in new array.

Boy. 'Tis here without, sir.

Vent. So, sir; if you please,
Enter Servant.

You may conduct it in; I do not fear it.
Serv. Sir, there's a gentlewoman without would Hum. I'll be your usher, boy; for, though I

speak with your worship. Vent. What is she?

He owed me something once, and well did pay it. Serv. Sir, I ask'd her not.

[Exeunt. Vent. Bid her come in.

ACT IV.-SCENE IV. * gossip mine-i.e. my danghter; gossip, gossib, godsib,

Another room in the same House. Anglo-Saxon godsilbe, meant originally a sponsor in

Enter LUCE. baptism and also a godchild, and generally a relation; sib is still used in Scotland in the sense of related.

Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted

more

say it,

ness

Upon the miserable, more than yet I feel, Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys,
Let it together seize me, and at once

I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death.
Press down my soul! cannot bear the pain

[She takes off the cluth, and ko Of these delaying tortures !--Thou that art

rises out of the cojiin. The end of all, and the sweet rest of all,

Jasp. And thus you meet the living.
Come, come, O Death! bring me to thy peace, Luce. Save me, Heaven!
And blot out all the memory I nourish

Jasp. Nay, do not fly me, fair; I am no spirit: Both of my father and my cruel friend!

Look better on me; do you know me yet? Oh, wretched maid, still living to be wretched, Luce. Oh, thou dear shadow of my friend! : To be a sayi to Fortune in her changes,

Jasp. Dear substance,
And grow to number times and woes together! I swear I am no shadow, feel my hand!
How happy had I been, if, being born,

It is the same it was; I am your Jaspor,
My grave had been my cradle !

Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving!

Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof
Enter Servant.

I put in practice of your constancy:
Serv. By your leave,

For sooner should my sword have druuk my Young mistress! Here's a boy hath brought a blood, coffin;

And set my soul at liberty, than drawn What a' would say I know not; but your father The least drop from that body; for which boldCharged me to give you notice. Here they come!

Doom me to anything! if death, I take it,
Enter two Men bearing a coffin, and the Boy, And willingly.

JASPER laid out as a corpse within it, covered Luce. This death I'll give you for it!
with a cloth.

[Kisses him. Luce. For me I hope 'tis come, and 'tis most So; now I'm satisfied, you are no spirit, welcome.

But my own truest, truest, truest friend!
Boy. Fair mistress, let me not add greater grief Why do you come thus to me?
To that great store you have already. Jasper

Jasp. First, to see you ;
(That whilst he lived was yours, now dead, Then to convey you hence.
And here inclosed) commanded me to bring

Luce. It cannot be ; His body hither, and to crave a tear

For I am lock'd up here, and watch'd at all hours, From those fair eyes (though he deserved not That 'tis impossible for me to 'scape. pity),

Jasp. Nothing more possible. Within this cofis To deck his funeral, for so he bid me

Do you convey yourself ; let me alone, Tell her for whom he died.

I have the wits of twenty men about me; Luce. He shall have many.-.

Only I crave the shelter of your closet Good friends, depart a little, whilst I take

A little, then fear me not. Creep in, My leave of this dead man, that once I loved. That they may presently convey you bence.

[Exeunt Coffin-carriers and Boy. Fear nothing, dearest love! I'll be your second; Hold yet a little, life! and then I give thee Lie close ; so! all goes well yet.- Boy! To thy first heavenly being. Oh, my friend!

[She goes into the coffin, and he covers Hast thou deceived me thus, and got before me?

Ver with the cloth.
I shall vot long be after. But, believe me,
Thou wert too cruel, Jasper, 'gainst thyself,

Re-enter Boy and Mon.
In punishing the fault I could have pardon'd, Boy. At hand, sir.
With so untimely death. Thou didst not wrong Jasp. Convey away the coffin, and be wary.
me,

Boy. 'Tis done already. But ever wert most kind, most true, most loving,

[The Men carry out the coffin. And I the most unkind, most false, most cruel! Jasp. Now must I go conjure. Didst thou but ask a tear? I'll give thee all,

[Exit into a chat Even all my eyes can pour down, all my sighs, And all myself, before thou goest from me:

Enter VENTERWELS. These are but sparing rites; but if thy soul

Vent. Boy, boy! Be yet about this place, and can behold

Boy. Your servant, sir. And see what I prepare to deck thee with,

Vent. Do me this kindness, boy (hold, here's It shall go up, borne on the wings of peace,

a crown),
And satisfied. First will I sing thy dirge, Before thou bury the body of this fellow,
Then kiss thy pale lips, and then die myself, Carry it to his old merry father, and salute him
And fill one coilin and one grave together. From me, and bid him sing; he bath cause.

Boy. I will, sir,
SONG.

Vent. And then bring me word what tune ho
Come, you whose loves are dead,

is in,
And whiles I sing,

And have another crown; but do it truly.
Weep and wring
Every hand; and every head

I have fitted him a bargain, now, will rex him.
Bind with cypress and sad yew;

Boy. God bless your worship's health, sir! Ribbons black and candles bine,

Vent. Farewell, Boy!

[Ercant
For him that was of men most true!
Come with heavy moaning,
And on his grave

ACT IV.-SCENE V.
Let him have
Sacrifice of sighs and groaning;

A Room in MERRYTHOUGHT's House.
Let him have fair flowers enow,
White and purple, green and yellow,

Enter Old MERRYTHOUGAT.
For him that was of men most true!

Wife. Ah, Old Merrythought, art thou there

again? Let's hear some of thy songs say-assay, test, trial; here it evidently means a Mer. [Singing.] Who can sing a merrier note, subject for experiments.-NARES.

Than he that cannot change groott

1