The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Gasp.

  Nay by my faith Sir, you must giue me leaue to shake her portion by the hand first.

  Lor.

  It is ready told for you Sir, come home when you will and receiue it,

  (Enter Aemilia.)

  and see, yonder shee comes; away, shee cannot yet abide you, because shee feares shee can abide you too well.

  Gasp.

  Well, I will come for her potion Sir, and till then, God take you to his mercy.

  Exit.

  Lor.

  Adiew my good sonne in law, Ile not interrupt her, let her meditate a my late motion.

  Exit.

  Aemi.

  ’Tis strange to see the impiety of parents,

  Both priuiledgd by custome, and profest,

  The holy institution of heauen;

  Ordeyning marriage for proportiond minds,

  For our chiefe humane comforts; and t’encrease

  The loued images of God in men:

  Is now peruerted to th’increase of wealth;

  We must bring riches forth, and like the Cuckoe

  Hatch others egges; Ioyne house to house, in choices

  Fit timber-logs and stones, not men and women:

  (Enter Aurelio.)

  Ay me, here’s one I must shunne, woude embrace.

  Exit.

  Aur.

  O stay and heare me speake or see me dye.

  (Enter Lodouico and Giacono.)

  Lod.

  How now? what haue we here? what a loathsome creature man is being drunke: Is it not pitty to see a man of good hope, a toward Scholler, writes a theame well, scannes a verse very well, and likely in time to make a proper man, a good legge, specially in a boote, valiant, well spoken, and in a word, what not? and yet all this ouerthrowne as you see, drownd, quite drownd in a quarte pott.

  Giac.

  O these same wicked healths, breede monstrous diseases.

  Lod.

  Aurelio, speake man, Aurelio?

  Giac.

  Pray heauen all be well.

  Lod.

  O speake, if any sparke of speech remaine.

  It is thy deare Aemilia that calles.

  Aur.

  Well, well, it becomes not a friend to touch the deadly wounds of his friend with a smiling countenance.

  Lod.

  Touch thee? sblood I could finde in my heart to beate thee; vp in a fooles name, vp: what a Scene of foppery haue we here?

  Aur.

  Prethee haue done.

  Lod.

  Vp Cuckoe Cupids bird, or by this light Ile fetch thy father to thee.

  Aur.

  Good Lodouico, if thou lou’st me, leaue me; thou com’st to consaile me from that, which is ioynd with my soule in eternity: I must and will doe what I doe.

  Lod.

  Doe so then, and I protest thou shalt neuer licke thy lips after my Kinsewoman, while thou liu’st: I had thought to haue spoken for th [...]e, if thou hadst taken a manly course with her: but to fold vp thy selfe like an Vrchine, and lye a caluing to bring forth a husband: I am asham’d to thinke on’t: sblood I haue heard of wenches that haue been wonne with singing and dancing, and some with riding, but neuer heard of any that was wonne with tumbling in my life.

  Aur.

  If thou knew’st how vaine thou seem’st.

  Lod.

  I doe it of purpose, to shew how vaine I hold thy disease, S’hart art thou the first that has shot at a wenches heart and mist it? must that shot that mist her wound thee? let her shake her heeles in a shrowes name: were shee my Cozen a thousand times, and if I were as thee, I would make her shake her heeles too, afore I would shake mine thus.

  Aur.

  O vanity, vanity.

  Lod.

  S’death, if any wench should offer to keepe possession of my heart against my will, I’de fire her out with Sacke and Sug [...]r, or smoke her out with Tobacko, like a hornet, or purge for her, for loue is but a humor: one way or other I would vent her, thats infallible.

  Aur.

  For shame hold thy tongue, me thinks thy wit should feele how stale are these loue stormes, and with what generall priuiledge loue pierses the worthiest. Seeke to help thy friend, not mocke him.

  Lod.

  Marry, seeke to helpe thy selfe then, in a halters name, doe not lie in a ditch, and say God helpe me, vse the lawfull tooles he hath lent thee. Vp I say I will bring thee to her.

  Aur.

  Shee’ll not endure me:

  Lod.

  Shee shall endure thee doe the worst thou canst to her, I and endure thee till thou canst not endure her; But then thou must vse thy selfe like a man, and a wise man, how deepe soeuer shee is in thy thoughts, carry not the prints of it in thy lookes; be bold and carelesse, and stand not sautring a farre of, as I haue seene you, like a Dogge in a firmetypot, that licks his chops and wags his taile, and faine would lay his lips to it, but he feares tis too hot for him: thats the only way to make her too hot for thee. He that holds religious and sacred thought of a woman, he that beares so reuerend a respect to her, that he will not touch her but with a kist hand and a timorous heart; he that adores her like his Goddesse: Let him be sure shee will shunne him like her flaue. Alas good soules, women of themselues are tractable and tactable enough, and would returne Quid for Quod still, but we are they that spoile’em, and we shall answere for’t another day. We are they that put a kind of wanton Melancholie into ’em, that makes ’em thinke their noses bigger then their faces, greater then the Sunne in brightnesse; and where as Nature made ’em but halfe fooles, we make ’em all foole. And this is our palpable flattery of them, where they had rather haue plaine dealing Well, in conclusion, Ile to her instantly, and if I doe not bring her to thee, or at the least some speciall fauour from her, as a feather from her fanne, or a string from her shoo, to weare in thy hat, and so forth, then neuer trust my skill in poultry whilst thou liu’st againe.

  Exit.

  Enter Quintiliano, A purse of twenty pound in gold. Innocentio, Fransischina, Angelo, and Fannio.

  Fran.

  THou shalt not to the warres, or if thou do’st Ile beare thee company, deare Quint. doe not offer to forsake me.

  Quint.

  Hands off wife, hang not vpon me thus; how can I maintaine thee but by vsing my valour? and how can I vse that, but in action and employment? goe in, play at cardes with your Cozen Angelo here, and let it suffise I loue thee.

  Ang.

  Come sweet Cozen, doe not cloy your husband with your loue so, especially to hinder his preferment; who shall the D [...]ke haue to employ in these Marshall necessities if not Captaine Quintiliano, he beares an honorable minde, and tis pitty but he should haue employment. Let him get a company now, and he will be able to maintaine you like a Duches hereafter.

  Innoc.

  Well said Signior Angelo, gossaue me you speake like a true Cozen indeede, does he not Quint?

  Quint.

  He does so, and I thanke him; yet see how the foole puts finger ith’ eye still.

  Ang.

  Ile cheere her vp, I warrant you Captaine; come Cuze, lets in to tables.

  Innoc.

  Farewell sweet Mistris.

  Fran.

  Farewell my good seruant.

  Ang.

  Now take away thy hand, and show thou didst laugh all this while; good Lord who would not marry to haue so kinde a wife make much on him?

  Exit.

  Quint.

  After Boy, giue your attendance.

  Fann.

  Could you not spare me money for mine hostesse, where you put me to boarde? y’are a whole fortnight arr [...]rages.

  Quint.

  Attend I say, the hostes of the Lyon has a legge like a Cyant, want for nothing Boy, so shee score truly.

  Fann.

  Faith Sir, shee has chaulk’t vp twenty shillings already, and sweares shee will chaulke no more.

  Quint.

  Then let her choke, and choke thou with her: S’blood hobby hors
e, and she had chaulkt vp twenty pounds, I hope the world knowes I am able to pay it with a wet finger.

  Fann.

  Alas Sir, I thinke y’are able, but the world does not know it.

  Quint.

  Then the worlds an ignorant Sir, and you are an innocent, vanish Boy, away.

  Fann.

  I hope he will foist some money for my score, out of this gull here.

  Exit.

  Innoc.

  ’Tis a plaguy good wagge Quint. ist not?

  Quint.

  Ile make him a good one ’ere I ha done with him; but this same louing foole my wife now, will neuer leaue weeping, till I make her beleeue I will not haue a company. Who would be combred with these soft hearted creatures, that are euer in extreames, either too kinde, or too vnkind?

  Innoc.

  Saue me, ’tis true, ’tis a hard thing must please’em in sadnesse.

  Quint.

  Damne me, if I doe not pitty her with my heart; plague on her kindnesse, she has halfe perswaded me to take no company.

  Innoc.

  Nay sweet Quint: then how shall I be a Lieftenant?

  Quint.

  Well, and my promise were not past to thee, I am a villaine if all the world should part Franke and me; thinke I loue thee therefore, and will doe thee credit: It will cost me a great deale a this same foolish money to buy me drum and ensigne, and furnish me throughly, but the best is I know my credit.

  Innoc.

  Sfut Quint, wee’ll want no money man, Ile make my row of houses flie first.

  Quint.

  Let’em walke, let’em walke; Candle rents: if the warres hold, or a plague come to the towne, theill be worth nothing.

  Innoc.

  True, or while I am beyond Sea, some sleepy wench may set fire ith bed-straw.

  Quint.

  Right, or there may come an earthquake, and ouerturne’em.

  Innoc.

  Iust, or there may be coniuring, and the winde may downe with’em.

  Quint.

  Or some crafty petty-fogger may finde a hole in the title, a thousand casualties belongs to ’em.

  Innoc.

  Nay, they shall walke, thats certaine, Ile turne ’em into money.

  Quint.

  Thats thy most husbandly course yfaith Boy, thou maist haue twenty ith’ hundred for thy life, Ile be thy man for two hundred.

  Innoc.

  Wil’t yfaith Quint? gossaue me tis done.

  Quint.

  For your life, not otherwise.

  Innoc.

  Well, I desire no more, so you’ll remember me for my Lieftenantship.

  Quint.

  Remember thee? ’tis thine owne already Boy, a hundred pounds shall not buy it from thee; giue me thy hand. I doe here create thee Lieftenant Innocentio.

  Innoc.

  If you haue a company Captaine.

  Quint.

  If I haue: damne me if such another word doe not make me put thee out ath’ place againe; if I haue a company, Sfut, let the Duke deny me one, I would twere come to that once, that employment should goe with the vndeseruer, while men of seruice sit at home, and feede their anger with the blood of red lattices. Let the Duke denie me to day, Ile renounce him to morrow. Ile to the enimy point blanke, I’me a villaine else:

  Innoc.

  And I by heauen I sweare.

  Quint.

  Well if that day come, it will proue a hot day with some body.

  Innoc.

  But Captaine, did not you say that you would enter me at an Ordinary, that I might learne to conuerse?

  Quint.

  When thou wilt Lieftenant; No better time then now, for now th’art in good clothes, which is the most materiall point for thy entrance there.

  Innoc.

  I but how should I behaue my selfe?

  Quint.

  Marry Sir, when you come first in, you shall see a crew of Gallants of all sorts:

  Innoc.

  Nay Captaine if I come first in I shall see no body.

  Quint.

  Tush man, you must not doe so, if you haue good clothes and will be noted let am all come in afore you, and then as I said shall you see a lusty crew of Gallants, some Gentlemen, some none; but thats all one: he that beares himselfe like a Gentleman, is worthy to haue beene borne a Gentleman: some aged haue beards, and some haue none, some haue money, and some haue none, yet all must haue meate: Now wil [...] all these I say at you [...] first entrance wonder at you, as at some strange Owle: Examine your person, and obserue your bearing for a time. Doe you then ath’ tother side seeme to neglect their obseruance as fast, let your countenance be proofe against all eyes, not yeelding or confessing in it any inward defect. In a word be impudent enough, for thats your chiefe vertue of society.

  Innoc.

  Is that? faith and I neede not learne that, I haue that by nature I thanke God.

  Quint.

  So much the better, for nature is farre aboue Art, or iudgement. Now for your behauiour; let it be free and negligent, not clogg’d with ceremony or obseruance, giue no man honour, but vpon equall termes; for looke how much thou giu’st any man aboue that, so much thou tak’st from thy selfe: he that will once giue the wall, shall quickly be thrust into the kennell: measure not thy carriage by any mans eye, thy speech by no mans eare, but be resolute and confident in doing and saying, and this is the grace of a right Gentleman as thou art.

  Innoc.

  Sfut, that I am I hope, I am sure my father has beene twise Warden on’s company.

  Quint.

  Thats not a peare matter man, ther’s no prescription for Gentility, but good clothes and impudence: for your place, take it as it fals, but so as you thinke no place to good for you; fall too with ceremony whatsoeuer the company be: and as neere as you can, when they are in their Mutton, be thou in thy Wood-cocke, it showes resolution. Talke any thing, thou car’st not what, so it be without offence, and as neere as thou canst without sence.

  Innoc.

  Let me alone for that Captaine I warrant you.

  Quint.

  If you chance to tell a lye, you must binde it with some oath, as by this bread, for breads a binder you know.

  Innoc.

  True.

  Quint.

  And yet take heede you sweare by nomans bread but your owne, for that may breede a quarrell: aboue all things you must carry no coales.

  Innoc.

  By heauen not I, Ile freeze to death first.

  Quint.

  Well Sir, one point more I must remember you of. After dinner there will be play, and if you would be counted compleate, you must venture amongst them; for otherwise, theill take you for a Scholler or a Poet, and so fall into contempt of you: for there is no vertue can scape the accompt of basenesse if it get money, but gaming and law; yet must you not loose much money at once, for that argues little wit at all times.

  Innoc.

  As gossaue me, and thats my fault; for if I be in once, I shall loose all I haue about me.

  Quint.

  Is true, Lieftenant? birlady Sir Ile be your moderator, therefore let me see how much money haue you about you?

  Innoc.

  Not much, some twenty marke or twenty pound in gold.

  Quint.

  ’Tis too much to loose by my faith, Lieftenant; giue me your purse Sir, hold yee, heers two brace of Angels, you shall venture that for fashion sake, Ile keepe the rest for you, till you haue done play.

  Innoc.

  That will be all one, for when thats lost I shall neuer leaue till I get the rest from you: for I know thou wilt let me haue it if I aske it.

  Quint.

  Not a penny by this gold.

  Innoc.

  Prethee doe not then, as gossaue me and you do:

  Quint.

  And I doe, hang me; Come lets to the Duke.

  Exeunt.

  Finis Actus Primi.

  ACTUS SECUNDI,

  SCAENA PRIMA.

  Enter Lucretia and T
emperance, seuerall wayes.

  Tem.

  NAy Mistris, pray eene goe in againe, for I haue some inward newes for you.

  Lucr.

  What are those pray.

  Tem.

  Tis no matter Mistris till you come in, but make much a time in the meane time, good fortune thrusts her selfe vpon you in the likenesse of a fine yong Gentleman, hold vp your apron and receiue him while you may, a Gods name.

  Lucr.

  How say by that? y’are a very wise counsailer.

  Tem.

  Well Mistris, when I was a Maide, and that’s a good while agoe I can tell you.

  Lucr.

  I thinke very well.

  Tem.

  You were but a little one then I wisse.

  Lucr.

  Nor you neither I beleeue.

  Tem.

  Faith it’s one of the furthest things I can remember.

  Lucr.

  But what when you were a Maide?

  Tem.

  Marry Mistris I tooke my time, I warrant you. And ther’s Signior Leonoro now, the very flower of Venice, and one that loues you deerely I ensure you.

  Lucr.

  God forgiue him if he doe, for Ile be sworne I neuer deseru’d his loue, nor neuer will while I liue.

  Tem.

  Why then, what say to Signior Collatin [...]! ther’s a dainty peece of Venzon for you, and a feruent louer indeed.

  Lucr.

  He? I dare say, he knowes not what wood loues shafts are made of, his Signiory woud think it the deepest disparagement could be done to him, to say that euer he spent sigh for any Dame in Italy.

  Tem.

  Well, you haue a whole browne dozen a suters at least, I am sure; take your choice amongst’em all, if you loue not all, yet you may loue three or foure on ’em to be doing withall.

  Lucr.

  To be doing withall? loue three or foure?

  Tem.

  Why not, so you loue ’em moderately. What must that strange made peece Theagines that you cry out vpon so often, haue all from other, and yet know not where he is?

  Lucr.

  O my Theagine, not Theagines, thy loue hath turn’d me woman like thy selfe, shall thy sight neuer turne me man againe. Come lets to the Minster, God heare my prayers as I intend to stop mine eares against all my suters.