Sec. Well said, my subtle Quicksilver! These K’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 hobnails on ‘s shoes, have as much villainy in ‘s head as he that wears gold buttons in ‘s cap.
Quick. Why, man, ‘t is the London highway to thrift; if virtue be us’d, ‘t is but as a scrap 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.
Sin. Here, sir, put off the other half of your prenticeship.
Quick. Well said, sweet Sin. Bring forth my bravery.
Now let my trunks shoot forth their silks conceal’d;
I now am free, and now will justify
My trunks and punks. Avaunt, dull flat cap, then!
Via, the curtain that shadowed Borgia!
There lie, thou husk of my envassall’d state;
I, Samson, now have burst the Philistines’ bands,
And in thy lap, my lovely Dalila,
I’ll lie and snore out my enfranchis’d state.
[Singing]
When Samson was a tall young man,
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 dress’d to-day?
Sec. That I have, Frank. The ostler a’ th’ Cock dressed him for a breakfast.
Quick. What, did he eat him?
Sec. No, but he ate his breakfast for dressing him; and so dress’d him for breakfast.
Quick. O witty age! where age is young in wit,
And all youths’ words have graybeards full of it!
Sin. But alas, Frank! how will all this be maintain’d now? Your place maintain’d it before.
Quick. Why, and I maintain’d 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? — toss’d from one wave to another; now under-line, now over the house; sometimes brick-wall’d against a rock, so that the guts fly out again; sometimes struck under the wide hazard, and farewell, Master Merchant.
Sin. Well, Frank, well: the seas, you say, are uncertain: but he that sails in your court seas shall find ’em 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 humor an imperious lord, proportion your looks to his looks, smiles to his smiles; fit your sails to the winds of his breath!
Quick. Tush! he’s no journeyman in his craft that cannot do that.
Sin. But he’s worse then a prentice that does it, not only humoring the lord, but every trencher-bearer, every groom that by indulgence and intelligence crept into his favor, and by panderism into his chamber. He rules the roast; and, when my honorable 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? ‘T is 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.
Quick. A pox on you! who taught you this morality?
Sec. ‘T is ‘long of this witty age, Master Francis. But, indeed, Mistress Sindefy, all trades complain of inconvenience, and therefore ‘t is best to have none. The merchant, he complains and says, “Traffic is subject to much uncertainty and loss.” Let ’em 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.
Quick. Ay, dad, thou mayst 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 pleas’d, 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, 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. Th’ artificer, he’s all for a stirring world: if his trade be too dull, 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 pleas’d 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.
Quick. And you have good security!
Sec. Ay, marry, Frank, that’s the special point.
Quick. 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! ‘T is 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, a’ my credit. You know his wife’s land?
Quick. Even to a foot, sir; I have been often there: a pretty fine seat, good land, all entire within itself.
Sec. Well wooded?
Quick. Two hundred pounds’ worth of wood ready to fell. And a fine sweet house, that stands just in the midst an ‘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 honor to enrich thee! Ay, even to die, that thou mightest inherit my living; even hunger and thirst! For, a’ my religion, Master Francis — and so tell knight Petronel — I do it to do him a pleasure.
Quick. Marry, dad, his horses are now coming up to bear down his lady; wilt thou lend him thy stable to set ’em 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.
Quick. A pox of your hunger and thirst! Well, dad, let him have money; all he could anyway get is bestowed on a ship now bound for Virginia; the frame of which voyage is so closely convey’d 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 furnish’d him with money, he will instantly hoist sail and away.
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 it. Let his wife seal to-day; he shall have his money to-day.
Quick. 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 humors so serviceably, as the manner of such as she is, you know —
Sec. True, good Master Francis.
Quick. That she shall keep her port open to anything she commends to her.
Sec. A’ my religion, a most fashionable project; as good she spoil the lady, as the lady spoil her; for ‘t is 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 of our city.
Sin. But, sweet Frank, when shall my father Security present me?
Quick. 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.
Win. Where is my Cu there? Cu?
Sec. Ay, Winnie.
Win. Wilt thou come in, sweet Cu?
Sec. Ay, Winnie, presently.
Exeunt all but QUICKSILVER.
Quick. “Ay, Winnie,” quod he. That’s all he can do, poor man; he may well cut off her name at “Winnie.” Oh, ‘t is an egregious pander! What will not an usurous knave be, so he may be rich? Oh, ‘t is a notable Jews’ 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; ‘t would make good boots for a peterman 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.
Enter SIR PETRONEL, in boots, with a riding-wand.
Pet. 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.
Quick. Y’ad best take some crowns in your purse, knight, or else your Eastward Castle will smoke but miserably.
Pet. Oh, Frank! my castle? Alas! all the castles I have are built with air, thou know’st.
Quick. I know it, knight, and therefore wonder whither your lady is going.
Pet. 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.
Quick. And I fear, when her enchanted castle becomes invisible, her Ladyship will return and follow his example.
Pet. Oh, that she would have the grace! for I shall never be able to pacify her, when she sees herself deceived so.
Quick. 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 crupper in a new gown, and you may drive her any way you list. For these women, sir, are like Essex calves: you must wriggle ’em on by the tail still, or they will never drive orderly.
Pet. But, alas, sweet Frank! thou know’st my ability will not furnish her blood with those costly humors.
Quick. Cast that cost on me, sir. I have spoken to my old pander, Security, for money or commodity; if you will, I know he will procure you.
Pet. Commodity! Alas! what commodity?
Quick. Why, sir, what say you to figs and raisins?
Pet. A plague of figs and raisins, and all such frail commodities! We shall make nothing of ’em.
Quick. Why then, sir, what say you to forty pound in roasted beef?
Pet. 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.
Quick. God’s me, knight, put ’em in sufficient sureties, rather than let your sword bail you! Let ’em 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 ’em.
Pet. 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.
Quick. 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.
Pet. There spake an angel: to bring her to which conformity, I must fain myself extremely amorous; and, alleging urgent excuses for my stay behind, part with her as passionately as she would from her foisting hound.
Quick. You have the sow by the right ear, sir. I warrant there was never child long’d more to ride a cockhorse 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 ’em. I lay my life, she will have every year four children; and what charge and change of humor 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 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.
Pet. ‘Slight, how thou terrifiest me!
Quick. Nay, hark you, sir; what nurses, what midwives, what fools, what physicians, what cunning women must be sought for (fearing sometimes she is bewitch’d, 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 panadas 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.
Pet. 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 fast’ned only with painted chains. Old Security’s young wife is ne’er the further off with me.
Quick. Thereby lies a tale, sir. The old usurer will be here instantly, with my punk Sindefy, whom you know your lady has promis’d me to entertain for her gentlewoman; and he, with a purpose to feed on you, invites you most solemnly by me to supper.
Pet. It falls out excellently fitly; I see desire of gain makes jealously venturous.
Enter GERTRUDE.
See, Frank, here comes my lady. Lord, how she views thee! She knows thee not, I think, in this bravery.
Ger. How now? who be you, I pray?
Quick. One Master Francis Quicksilver, an ‘t please your Ladyship.
Ger. [aside] 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! —
Enter SECURITY and SINDEFY.
Where’s my woman, I pray?
Quick. See, madam, she now comes to attend you.
Sec. God save my honorable knight and his worshipful lady!
Ger. 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.
Ger. And is this a gentleman’s daughter new come out of the country?
Sec. She is, madam; and one that her father
hath a special care to bestow in some honorable lady’s service, to put her out of her honest humors, forsooth; for she had a great desire to be a nun, an ‘t please you.
Ger. 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 vow’d maid of that order.
Ger. 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?
Sin. What I cannot do, madam, I would be glad to learn.
Ger. Well said! Hold up, then; hold up your head, I say; come hither a little.
Sin. I thank your Ladyship.
Ger. 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.
Sin. No, forsooth, Madam, of yours.
Ger. 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.
Ger. 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.
Ger. By my faith, but he shall not go, sir; I shall swoon an he sup from me.
Pet. Pray thee, forbear; shall he lose his provision?
Ger. Ay, by’r Lady, sir, rather than I lose my longing. Come in, I say; as I am a lady, you shall not go.
Quick. [aside] 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.
Ger. No, by my faith, sir; then we cannot be abed soon enough after supper.
Pet. [aside] What a med’cine is this! — Well, Master Security, you are new married as well as I; I hope you are bound as well. We must honor our young wives, you know.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 185
