Quick. [aside to SECURITY] In policy, dad, till to-morrow she has seal’d.
Sec. I hope in the morning yet your Knighthood will breakfast with me.
Pet. As early as you will, sir.
Sec. Thank your good Worship; I do hunger and thirst to do you good, sir!
Ger. Come, sweet knight, come; I do hunger and thirst to be abed with thee!
Exeunt.
ACT III
SCENE I
[The same.]
Enter PETRONEL, QUICKSILVER, SECURITY, BRAMBLE, and WINIFRED.
Pet. Thanks for our feastlike breakfast, good Master Security; I am sorry, by reason of my instant haste to so long a voyage as Virginia, I am without means by any kind amends to show how affectionately I take your kindness, and to confirm by some worthy ceremony a perpetual league of friendship betwixt us.
Sec. Excellent knight! let this be a token betwixt us of inviolable friendship. I am new married to this fair gentlewoman, you know; and, by my hope to make her fruitful, though I be something in years, I vow faithfully unto you to make you godfather, though in your absence, to the first child I am blest withal; and henceforth call me gossip, I beseech you, if you please to accept it.
Pet. In the highest degree of gratitude, my most worthy gossip; for confirmation of which friendly title, let me entreat my fair gossip, your wife here, to accept this diamond, and keep it as my gift to her first child, wheresoever my fortune, in event of my voyage, shall bestow me.
Sec. How now, my coy wedlock! Make you strange of so noble a favor? Take it, I charge you, with all affection, and, by way of taking your leave, present boldly your lips to our honorable gossip.
Quick. [aside] How vent’rous he is to him, and how jealous to others!
Pet. Long may this kind touch of our lips print in our hearts all the forms of affection. — And now, my good gossip, if the writings be ready to which my wife should seal, let them be brought this morning before she takes coach into the country, and my kindness shall work her to dispatch it.
Sec. The writings are ready, sir. My learned counsel here, Master Bramble the lawyer, hath perus’d them; and within this hour I will bring the scrivener with them to your worshipful lady.
Pet. Good Master Bramble, I will here take my leave of you, then. God send you fortunate pleas, sir, and contentious clients!
Exit.
Bram. And you foreright winds, sir, and a fortunate voyage.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Sir Petronel, here are three or four gentlemen desire to speak with you.
Pet. What are they?
Quick. They are your followers in this voyage, knight: Captain Seagull and his associates; I met them this morning, and told them you would be here.
Pet. Let them enter, I pray you; I know they long to be gone, for their stay is dangerous.
Enter SEAGULL, SCAPETHRIFT, and SPENDALL.
Sea. God save my honorable colonel!
Pet. Welcome, good Captain Seagull and worthy gentlemen. If you will meet my friend Frank here and me at the Blue Anchor Tavern by Billingsgate this evening, we will there drink to our happy voyage, be merry, and take boat to our ship with all expedition.
Sea. Defer it no longer, I beseech you, sir; but, as your voyage is hitherto carried closely, and in another knight’s name, so for your own safety and ours, let it be continued; our meeting and speedy purpose of departing known to as few as is possible, lest your ship and goods be attach’d.
Quick. Well advis’d, captain; our colonel shall have money this morning, to dispatch all our departures. Bring those gentlemen at night to the place appointed, and, with our skins full of vintage, we’ll take occasion by the vantage, and away.
Spend. We will not fail but be there, sir.
Pet. Good morrow, good Captain, and my worthy associates. — Health and all sovereignty to my beautiful gossip! — For you, sir, we shall see you presently with the writings.
Sec. With writings and crowns to my honorable gossip. I do hunger and thirst to do you good, sir.
Exeunt.
SCENE II
[An innyard.]
Enter a Coachman in haste, in ‘s frock, feeding.
Coach. Here’s a stir when citizens ride out of town, indeed, as if all the house were afire! ‘Slight! they will not give a man leave to eat ‘s breakfast afore he rises.
Enter HAMLET, a footman, in haste.
Ham. What, coachman! My Lady’s coach, for shame! Her Ladyship’s ready to come down.
Enter POTKIN, a tankard-bearer.
Pot. ‘Sfoot, Hamlet, are you mad? Whither run you now? You should brush up my old mistress!
Exit HAMLET.
Enter SINDEFY.
Sin. What, Potkin! You must put off your tankard and put on your blue
Exit.
coat, and wait upon Mistress Touchstone into the country.
Exit.
Pot. I will, forsooth, presently.
Enter MISTRESS FOND and MISTRESS GAZER.
Fond. Come, sweet Mistress Gazer, let’s watch here, and see my Lady Flash take coach.
Gaz. A’ my word, here’s a most fine place to stand in; did you see the new ship launch’d last day, Mistress Fond?
Fond. O God! an we citizens should lose such a sight!
Gaz. I warrant here will be double as many people to see her take coach as there were to see it take water.
Fond. Oh, she’s married to a most fine castle i’ th’ country, they say!
Gaz. But there are no giants in the castle, are there?
Fond. Oh, no; they say her knight kill’d ’em all; and therefore he was knighted.
Gaz. Would to God her Ladyship would come away!
Enter GERTRUDE, MISTRESS TOUCHSTONE, SINDEFY, HAMLET, and POTKIN.
Fond. She comes, she comes, she comes!
Gaz. and Fond. Pray Heaven bless your Ladyship!
Ger. Thank you, good people! — My coach, for the love of Heaven, my coach! In good truth I shall swoon else.
Ham. Coach, coach, my Lady’s coach!
Exit.
Ger. As I am a lady, I think I am with child already, I long for a coach so. May one be with child afore they are married, Mother?
Mist. T. Ay, by’r Lady, madam; a little thing does that: I have seen a little prick no bigger then a pin’s head swell bigger and bigger, till it has come to an ancome; and e’en so ‘t is in these cases.
Re-enter HAMLET.
Ham. Your coach is coming, madam.
Ger. That’s well said. — Now, Heaven! methinks I am e’en up to the knees in preferment.
[singing]
But a little higher, but a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, there lies Cupid’s fire!
Mist. T. But must this young man, an ‘t please you, madam, run by your coach all the way afoot?
Ger. Ay, by my faith, I warrant him; he gives no other milk, as I have another servant does.
Mist. T. Alas! ‘t is e’en pity, methinks; for God’s sake, madam, buy him but a hobby-horse; let the poor youth have something betwixt his legs to ease ’em. Alas! we must do as we would be done to.
Ger. Go to, hold your peace, dame; you talk like an old fool, I tell you!
Enter PETRONEL and QUICKSILVER.
Pet. Wilt thou be gone, sweet honeysuckle, before I can go with thee?
Ger. I pray thee, sweet knight, let me; I do so long to dress up thy castle afore thou com’st. But I mar’l how my modest sister occupies herself this morning, that she cannot wait on me to my coach, as well as her mother.
Quick. Marry, madam, she’s married by this time to prentice Golding. Your father, and someone more, stole to church with ’em in all the haste, that the cold meat left at your wedding might serve to furnish their nuptial table.
Ger. There’s no base fellow, my father, now; but he’s e’en fit to father such a daughter. He must call me “daughter” no more now: but “madam,” and “please you, madam”; and “please your Worship, madam,” indeed. Ou
t upon him! marry his daughter to a base prentice?
Mist. T. What should one do? Is there no law for one that marries a woman’s daughter against her will? How shall we punish him, madam?
Ger. As I am a lady, an ‘t would snow, we’d so pebble ’em with snowballs as they come from church; but, sirrah Frank Quicksilver —
Quick. Ay, madam.
Ger. Dost remember since thou and I clapp’d what-d’ye-call’ts in the garret?
Quick. I know not what you mean, madam.
Ger. [singing]
His head as white as milk,
All flaxen was his hair;
But now he is dead,
And laid in his bed,
And never will come again.
God be at your labor!
Enter TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, and MILDRED with rosemary.
Pet. [aside] Was there ever such a lady?
Quick. See, madam, the bride and bridegroom!
Ger. God’s my precious! God give you joy, Mistress What-lack-you! Now out upon thee, baggage! My sister married in a taffeta hat! Marry, hang you! Westward with a wanion t’ ye! Nay, I have done wi’ ye, minion, then, i’ faith; never look to have my countenance any more, nor anything I can do for thee. Thou ride in my coach, or come down to my castle? fie upon thee! I charge thee in my Ladyship’s name, call me “sister” no more.
Touch. An ‘t please your Worship, this is not your sister: this is my daughter, and she calls me “Father,” and so does not your Ladyship, an ‘t please your Worship, madam.
Mist. T. No, nor she must not call thee father by heraldry, because thou mak’st thy prentice thy son as well as she. Ah, thou misproud prentice! dar’st thou presume to marry a lady’s sister?
Gold. It pleas’d my master, forsooth, to embolden me with his favor; and, though I confess myself far unworthy so worthy a wife, being in part her servant, as I am your prentice, yet, since (I may say it without boasting) I am born a gentleman, and, by the trade I have learn’d of my master, which I trust taints not my blood, able, with mine own industry and portion, to maintain your daughter, my hope is Heaven will so bless our humble beginning that in the end I shall be no disgrace to the grace with which my master hath bound me his double prentice.
Touch. Master me no more, son, if thou think’st me worthy to be thy father.
Ger. “Sun”? Now, good Lord, how he shines, an you mark him! He’s a gentleman!
Gold. Ay, indeed, madam, a gentleman born.
Pet. Never stand a’ your gentry, Master Bridegroom; if your legs be no better than your arms, you’ll be able to stand upon neither shortly.
Touch. An ‘t please your good Worship, sir, there are two sorts of gentlemen.
Pet. What mean you, sir?
Touch. Bold to put off my hat to your Worship ——
Pet. Nay, pray forbear, sir, and then forth with your two sorts of gentlemen.
Touch. If your Worship will have it so! — I say there are two sorts of gentlemen. There is a gentleman artificial, and a gentleman natural. Now, though your Worship be a gentleman natural — work upon that now!
Quick. Well said, old Touchstone; I am proud to hear thee enter a set speech, i’ faith; forth, I beseech thee.
Touch. Cry you mercy, sir, your Worship’s a gentleman I do not know. If you be one of my acquaintance, y’ are very much disguis’d, sir.
Quick. Go to, old quipper; forth with thy speech, I say.
Touch. What, sir, my speeches were ever in vain to your gracious Worship; and therefore, till I speak to you gallantry indeed I will save my breath for my broth anon. Come, my poor son and daughter, let us hide ourselves in our poor humility, and live safe. Ambition consumes itself with the very show. Work upon that now!
Exeunt TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING and MILDRED.
Ger. Let him go, let him go, for God’s sake! let him make his prentice his son, for God’s sake! give away his daughter, for God’s sake! and when they come a-begging to us, for God’s sake, let’s laugh at their good husbandry for God’s sake. Farewell, sweet knight, pray thee make haste after.
Pet. What shall I say? I would not have thee go.
Quick. [singing]
Now, oh, now, I must depart;
Parting, though it absence move —
This ditty, knight, do I see in thy looks in capital letters. —
[singing]
What a grief ’tis to depart, and leave the flower that has my heart!
My sweet lady, and, alack for woe, why should we part so?
Tell truth, knight, and shame all dissembling lovers; does not your pain lie on that side?
Pet. If it do, canst thou tell me how I may cure it?
Quick. Excellent easily. Divide yourself in two halves, just by the girdlestead; send one half with your lady, and keep the tother yourself; or else do as all true lovers do, part with your heart and leave your body behind. I have seen ‘t done a hundred times: ‘t is as easy a matter for a lover to part without a heart from his sweetheart, and he ne’er the worse, as for a mouse to get from a trap and leave her tail behind her. See, here comes the writings.
Enter SECURITY, with a Scrivener.
Sec. Good morrow to my worshipful Lady. I present your Ladyship with this writing, to which, if you please to set your hand with your knight’s, a velvet gown shall attend your journey, a’ my credit.
Ger. What writing is it, knight?
Pet. The sale, sweetheart, of the poor tenement I told thee of, only to make a little money to send thee down furniture for my castle, to which my hand shall lead thee.
Ger. Very well. Now give me your pen, I pray.
Quick. [aside] It goes down without chewing, i’ faith.
Scriv. Your Worships deliver this as your deed?
Ambo. We do.
Ger. So now, knight, farewell till I see thee!
Pet. All farewell to my sweetheart.
Mist. T. Good-bye, son knight.
Pet. Farewell, my good mother!
Ger. Farewell, Frank! I would fain take thee down if I could.
Quick. I thank your good Ladyship. — Farewell, Mistress Sindefy!
Exeunt GERTRUDE and her party.
Pet. O tedious voyage, whereof there is no end!
What will they think of me?
Quick. Think what they list. They long’d for a vagary into the country; and now they are fitted. So a woman marry to ride in a coach, she cares not if she ride to her ruin. ‘T is the great end of many of their marriages. This is not first time a lady has rid a false journey in her coach, I hope.
Pet. Nay, ‘t is no matter, I care little what they think; he that weighs men’s thoughts has his hands full of nothing. A man, in the course of this world, should be like a surgeon’s instrument, work in the wounds of others, and feel nothing himself. The sharper and subtler, the better.
Quick. As it falls out now, knight, you shall not need to devise excuses, or endure her outcries, when she returns; we shall now be gone before, where they can not reach us.
Pet. Well, my kind compere, you have now th’ assurance we both can make you; let me now entreat you the money we agreed on may be brought to the Blue Anchor, near to Billingsgate, by six a’clock; where I and my chief friends, bound for this voyage, will with feasts attend you.
Sec. The money, my most honorable compere, shall without fail observe your appointed hour.
Pet. Thanks, my dear gossip. I must now impart
To your approved love a loving secret,
As one on whom my life doth more rely
In friendly trust than any man alive.
Nor shall you be the chosen secretary
Of my affections for affection only;
For I protest, if God bless my return,
To make you partner in my action’s gain
As deeply as if you had ventur’d with me
Half my expenses. Know then, honest gossip,
I have enjoyed with such divine contentment
A gentlewoman’s bed whom you well know,
That I shall ne’er enjoy this tedious voyage,
Nor live the least part of the time it asketh,
Without her presence; so “I thirst and hunger”
To taste the dear feast of her company.
And, if the “hunger” and “the thirst” you vow
As my sworn gossip, to my wished good
Be, as I know it is, unfeign’d and firm,
Do me an easy favor in your power.
Sec. Be sure, brave gossip, all that I can do,
To my best nerve, is wholly at your service.
Who is the woman, first, that is your friend?
Pet. The woman is your learned counsel’s wife,
The lawyer, Master Bramble; whom would you
Bring out this even in honest neighborhood,
To take his leave, with you, of me your gossip,
I, in the mean time, will send this my friend
Home to his house, to bring his wife, disguis’d,
Before his face, into our company;
For love hath made her look for such a wile,
To free her from his tyrannous jealousy;
And I would take this course before another,
In stealing her away, to make us sport,
And gull his circumspection the more grossly;
And I am sure that no man like yourself
Hath credit with him to entice his jealousy
To so long stay abroad as may give time
To her enlargement in such safe disguise.
Sec. A pretty, pithy, and most pleasant project!
Who would not strain a point of neighborhood
For such a point-device? — that, as the ship
Of famous Draco went about the world,
Will wind about the lawyer, compassing
The world, himself; he hath it in his arms,
And that’s enough for him, without his wife.
A lawyer is ambitious, and his head
Cannot be prais’d nor rais’d too high,
With any fork of highest knavery.
I’ll go fetch him straight.
Exit SECURITY.
Pet. So, so! Now, Frank, go thou home to his house,
‘Stead of his lawyer’s, and bring his wife hither,
Who, just like to the lawyer’s wife, is prison’d
With his stern usurous jealousy, which could never
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 186
