Mil. Well, Sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing.
Ger. Bow-bell!
Mil. 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, yok’d cats and foxes and dogs together to draw his plough, whilst 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.
Ger. Alas! poor Mil, when I am a lady, I’ll pray for thee yet, i’ faith: nay, and I’ll vouchsafe to call thee Sister Mil 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 sav’d as soon as I. — Does he come? — [singing] “And ever and anon she doubled in her song.” Now, Lady’s my comfort! what a profane ape’s here! Tailor, Poldavy, prithee, fit it, fit it: is this a right Scot? Does it clip close, and bear up round?
Pold. Fine and stiffly, i’ faith; ‘t will 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.
Ger. 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?
Pold. Oh, 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.
Ger. Has the court ne’er a trot?
Pold. No, but a false gallop, lady.
Ger. [singing] “And if she will not go to bed—”
Bet. The knight’s come, forsooth.
Ger. Is my knight come? O the Lord, my band! Sister, do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box a’ the ear, that I may seem to blush; now, now! So, there, there, there!
Enter SIR PETRONEL, MASTER TOUCHSTONE, and MISTRESS TOUCHSTONE.
Here he is! O my dearest delight! Lord, Lord! and how does my knight?
Touch. Fie! with more modesty.
Ger. 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!
Pet. Boldness is good fashion and court-like.
Ger. Ay, in a country lady I hope it is, as I shall be. And how chance ye came no sooner, knight?
Pet. Faith, I was so entertain’d in the progress with one Count Epernoum, a Welsh knight; we had a match at balloon, too, with my Lord Whachum, for four crowns.
Ger. At baboon? Jesu! you and I will play at baboon in the country, knight!
Pet. Oh, sweet lady: ‘t is a strong play with the arm.
Ger. With arm or leg, or any other member, if it be a court sport. And when shall ‘s be married, my knight?
Pet. I come now to consummate it; and your father may call a poor knight son-in-law.
Touch. Sir, ye are come. What is not mine to keep I must not be sorry to forgo. A hundred pound land her grandmother left her; ‘t is 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!
Pet. Sir, you mistrust not my means? I am a knight.
Touch. Sir, sir, what I know not, you will give me leave to say I am ignorant of.
Mist. T. 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 neighbors. An I thought you would not ha’ been knighted, as I am an honest woman, I would ha’ dubb’d you myself. I praise God I have wherewithal. But, as for you, Daughter ——
Ger. Ay, Mother, I must be a lady tomorrow; 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.
Mist. T. That you shall, Lady-Daughter, and have a coach as well as I, too.
Ger. 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.
Touch. Come, come, the day grows low. ‘T is supper time: use my house; the wedding solemnity is at my wife’s cost; thank me for nothing but my willing blessing; for — I cannot feign — my hopes are faint. And, sir, respect my daughter; she has refus’d for you wealthy and honest matches, known good men, well moneyed, better traded, best reputed.
Ger. Body a’ truth! chitizens, chitizens! Sweet knight, as soon as ever we are married, take me to thy mercy out of this miserable chity; 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!
Touch. 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!
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?
Mil. I hope, as a sister, well.
Touch. Nay, but, nay, but how dost thou like her behavior and humor? Speak freely.
Mil. I am loath to speak ill; and yet — I am sorry of this — I cannot speak well.
Touch. 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 lik’st thou the elephant? He says he has a castle in the country.
Gold. Pray Heaven, the elephant carry not his castle on his back.
Touch. ‘Fore Heaven, very well! But, seriously, how dost repute him?
Gold. The best I can say of him is, I know him not!
Touch. Ha, Golding! I commend thee, I approve thee, and will make it appear my affection is strong to thee. My wife has her humor, and I will ha’ mine. Dost thou see my daughter here? She is not fair, well-favored 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!
Gold. Sir, as your son, I honor you; and, as your servant, obey you.
Touch. 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. Are you mine? You are his. Work, you, upon that now!
Mil. 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.
Touch. 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
Their place and means. ‘T is honest time’s expense,
When seeming lightness bears a moral sense.
Exit.
Work upon that now.
ACT II
SCENE I
[Goldsmith’s Row. The inner stage represents Touchstone’s stall.]
TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, and MILDRED are discovered sitting on either side of the stall.
Touch. Quicksilver! — Master Francis
Quicksilver! — Master Quicksilver!
Enter QUICKSILVER.
Quick. Here, sir; (ump!)
Touch. So, sir; nothing but flat “Master Quicksilver,” without any familiar addition will fetch you. Will you truss my points, sir?
Quick. Ay, forsooth; (ump!)
Touch. How now, sir! the drunken hiccup so soon this morning?
Quick. ’Tis but the coldness of my stomach, forsooth.
Touch. 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.
Quick. An ‘t please you, sir, we did but drink (ump!) to the coming off of the knightly bridegroom.
Touch. To the coming off an him?
Quick. 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 honor of a soldier, sir; and therefore we must drink so much the more to it, forsooth (ump!)
Touch. 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.
Quick. The knight’s men, forsooth, be still a’ their knees at it (ump!) and because ’tis for your credit, sir, I would be loath to flinch.
Touch. I pray, sir, e’en to ’em 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.
Quick. So, sir; now I will go keep my (ump!) credit with ’em, an ‘t please you, sir.
Touch. In any case, sir, lay one cup of sack more a’ your cold stomach, I beseech you.
Quick. Yes, forsooth.
Exit QUICKSILVER.
Touch. 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 wak’d to such cost; I think we have stow’d 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. Oh, 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.
GOLDING and MILDRED come forward.
Gold. But is it possible that you, seeing your sister preferr’d to the bed of a knight, should contain your affections in the arms of a prentice?
Mil. I had rather make up the garment of my affections in some of the same piece than, like a Fool, wear gowns of two colors, or mix sackcloth with satin.
Gold. 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?
Mil. I have observ’d that the bridle given to those violent flatteries of fortune is seldom recover’d; 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.
Gold. 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 aspir’d by me; I will ever make your contentment the end of my endeavors; I will love you above all; and only your grief shall be my misery, and your delight my felicity.
Touch. [aside] Work upon that now! By my hopes, he woos honestly and orderly; he shall be anchor of my hopes. Look, see the ill-yok’d monster, his fellow!
Re-enter QUICKSILVER, unlac’d, a towel about his neck, in his flat cap, drunk.
Quick. Eastward Ho! “Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia!”
Touch. [aside] Drunk now downright, a’ my fidelity!
Quick. (Ump!) Pulldo, pulldo! showse, quoth the caliver.
Gold. Fie, fellow Quicksilver, what a pickle are you in!
Quick. Pickle? Pickle in thy throat; ‘zouns, pickle! — Wa, ha, ho! — Good morrow, knight Petronel. — Morrow, lady Goldsmith. — Come off, knight, with a counterbuff, for the honor of knighthood.
Gold. Why, how now, sir? Do ye know where you are?
Quick. Where I am? Why, ‘sblood, you jolt-head, — where I am!
Gold. Go to, go to, for shame go to bed, and sleep out this immodesty; thou sham’st both my master and his house.
Quick. Shame? what shame? I thought thou wouldst show thy bringing up; an 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!
Gold. E’en who you will; I’ll not lend thee threepence.
Quick. ‘Sfoot; lend me some money; “hast thou not Hyren here?”
Touch. Why, how now, sirrah? what vein’s this, ha?
Quick. “Who cries on murther? Lady, was it you?” How does our master? Pray thee, cry “Eastward Ho!”
Touch. Sirrah, sirrah, y’are past your hiccup now; I see y’ are drunk —
Quick. ’Tis for your credit, Master.
Touch. And hear you keep a whore in town.
Quick. ’Tis for your credit, Master.
Touch. And what you are out in cash I know.
Quick. So do I. My father’s a gentleman. Work upon that now! Eastward Ho!
Touch. Sir, “Eastward Ho” will make you go Westward Ho! I will no longer dishonest my house, nor endanger my stock with your license. 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.
Quick. Am I free a’ my fetters? Rent, fly with a duck in thy mouth; and now I tell thee, Touchstone —
Touch. Good sir ——
Quick. “When this eternal substance of my soul—”
Touch. Well said; change your gold ends for your play ends.
Quick. “Did live imprison’d in my wanton flesh—”
Touch. What then, sir?
Quick. “I was a courtier in the Spanish court,
And Don Andrea was my name.”
Touch. Good Master Don Andrea, will you march?
Quick. Sweet Touchstone, will you lend me two shillings?
Touch. Not a penny.
Quick. 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!
Exit, staggering.
Touch. Now, sirrah, you! hear you? You shall serve me no more neither — not an hour longer.
Gold. What mean you, sir?
Touch. 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?
Ambo. With all submission, both of thanks and duty.
Touch. 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.
Gold. Let me beseech you, no, sir; the superfluity and cold meat left at their n
uptials 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 reverend presence and witness shall sufficiently grace and confirm us.
Touch. Son to mine 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 ravish’d with desire to hansel 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.
’Tis to my wish; for tradesmen, well ’tis known,
Get with more ease than gentry keeps his own.
Exeunt.
SCENE II
[Before SECURITY’S House.]
Enter 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 ‘t were 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.
Enter QUICKSILVER in his prentice’s coat and cap, his gallant breeches and stockings, gartering himself.
Quick. Come, old Security, thou father of destruction! th’ indented sheepskin is burn’d wherein I was wrapp’d; 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. K. me, K. thee runs through court and country.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 184
