ACT I., SCENE I.
Hearsay, Slicer, Shape, Meanwell.
Hear. We're made, my boys, we're made! methinks I am
Growing into a thing that will be worshipp'd.
Slicer. I shall sleep one day in my chain and scarlet
At Spital-sermon.
Shape. Were not my wit such,
I'd put out moneys of being Mayor.
But, O this brain of mine! that's it that will
Bar me the city honour.
Hear. We're cri'd up
O' th' sudden for the sole tutors of the age.
Shape. Esteem'd discreet, sage trainers up of youth.
Hear. Our house becomes a place of visit now.
Slicer. In my poor judgment, 'tis as good my lady
Should venture to commit her eldest son
To us as to the Inns-of-Court: He'll be
Undone here, only with less ceremony.
Hear. Speak for our credit, my brave man of war.
What, Meanwell, why so lumpish?
Mean. Pray you, be quiet.
Hear. Thou look'st as if thou plott'st the calling in
O' th' Declaration, or the abolishing[116]
O' th' common prayers. Cheer up; say something for us.
Mean. Pray, vex me not.
Slicer. These foolish, puling sighs
Are good for nothing, but to endanger buttons.
Take heart of grace, man.[117]
Mean. Fie, y' are troublesome!
Hear. Nay, fare you well then, sir.
[Exeunt Hearsay, Slicer, Shape.
Mean. My father still
Runs in my mind, meets all my thoughts, and doth
Mingle himself in all my cogitations.
Thus to see eager villains drag along
Him unto whom they crouch'd! to see him hal'd,
That ne'er knew what compulsion was, but when
His virtues did incite him to good deeds,
And keep my sword dry! O unequal nature!
Why was I made so patient as to view,
And not so strong as to redeem? Why should I
Dare to behold, and yet not dare to rescue?
Had I been destitute of weapons, yet
Arm'd with the only name of son, I might
Have outdone wonder. Naked piety
Dares more than fury well-appointed[118]; blood
Being never better sacrificed, than when
It flows to him that gave it. But, alas!
The envy of my fortune did allow
That only which she could not take away—
Compassion, that which was not in those savage
And knowing beasts, those engines of the law
That even killed as uncontroll'd as that.
How do I grieve when I consider from
What hands he suffer'd! Hands that do excuse
Th' indulgent prison, shackles being here
A kind of rescue. Young man, 'tis not well
To see thy aged father thus confin'd.
Good, good old man! alas! thou'rt dead to me,
Dead to the world, and only living to
That which is more than death, thy misery!
The grave could be a comfort: and shall I—
O, would this soul of mine—But death's the wish
Of him that fears; he's lazy that would die.
I'll live and see that thing of wealth, that worm
Bred out of splendid muck, that citizen,
Like his own sullied wares thrown by into
Some unregarded corner; and my piety
Shall be as famous as his avarice.
His son, whom we have in our tuition,
Shall be the subject of my good revenge:
I'll count myself no child, till I have done
Something that's worth that name. My brain shall be
Busy in his undoing; and I will
Plot ruin with religion: his disgrace
Shall be my zeal's contrivement; and when this
Shall style me son again, I hope 'twill be
Counted not wrong, but duty. When that time
Shall give my actions growth, I will cast off
This brood of vipers, and will show that I
Do hate the poison which I meant t' apply. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Mistress Potluck.
Pot. Now help, good heaven! 'tis such an uncouth thing
To be a widow out of term-time: I
Do feel such aguish qualms and dumps, and fits,
And shakings still an end! I lately was
A wife, I do confess; but yet I had
No husband; he, alas! was dead to me,
Even when he lived unto the world: I was
A widow, whilst he breath'd. His death did only
Make others know so much; but yet—
Enter Hearsay.
Hear. How now?
So melancholy, sweet?
Pot. How could I choose,
Being thou wert not here? The time is come:
Thou'lt be as good unto me as thy word?
Hear. Nay, hang me, if I e'er recant. You'll take me
Both wind and limb at th' venture, will you not?
Pot. Ay, good chuck, every inch of thee; she were no true woman that would not.
Hear. I must tell you one thing—and yet I'm loth.
Pot. I am thy rib,
Thou must keep nothing from thy rib, good chuck:
Thy yoke-fellow must know all thy secrets.
Hear. Why then, I'll tell you, sweet. [He whispers her.
Pot. Heaven defend!
Hear. 'Tis true.
Pot. Now, God forbid! and would you offer
T' undo a widow-woman so? I had
As lief the old vintner were alive again.
Hear. I was born[119] with it, I confess; but lying
In Turkey for intelligence, the Great Turk,
Somewhat suspicious of me, lest I might
Entice some o' th' seraglio, did command
I should be forthwith cut.
Pot. A heathen deed
It was! none but an infidel could have
The heart to do it.
Hear. Now you know the worst
That you must trust to. Come, let's to the church.
Pot. Good Master Hearsay, nature ne'er intended
One woman should be joined to another:
The holy blessing of all wedlock was
T' increase and multiply, as Master Christopher
Did well observe last Sabbath. I'll not do
Anything 'gainst God's word. I do release you
Of all your promises; and that it may not
Be said you lost by loving me, take this.
Perhaps I may get you a contribution
O' th' women of the parish, as I did
The broken-bellied man the other day.
Hear. Seeing you needs will cast me off, let me
Entreat this one thing of you: that you would not
Make me your table-talk at the next gossiping. [Exit.
Pot. Indeed I pity thee, poor thing; or rather
I pity thee, poor nothing!
Enter Slicer.
Good lieutenant,
How dost thou? Thou art mindful of thy promise.
Slicer. What else, my jolly wench?
Pot. Good sweet lieutenant,
Give me but leave to ask one question of you:
Art thou entire and sound in all thy limbs?
Slicer. To tell the very truth, ere now I've had
A spice o' the pox or so; but now I am sound
As any bell—hem! was't not shrill, my girl? ha!
Pot. I do not ask thee about these diseases:
My question is, whether thou'st all thy parts?
Slicer. Faith, I have lost a joint or two; as none
Of our profession, come off whole, unless
The general and some sneaks.
Pot. My meaning is,
Whether that something is not wanting that
Should write thee husband?
Slicer. Ne'er fear that, my wench:
Dost think the king would send me to the wars
Without I had my weapons? Eunuchs are not
Men of employment in these days. His majesty
Hath newly put me on a piece of service;
And if I e'er come off (which I do fear
I sha'n't, the danger is so great) brave widow,
We'll to't, and get commanders.
Pot. If you can
Leave me, I can leave you. There are other men
That won't refuse a fortune when 'tis proffer'd.
Slicer. Well, I must to his majesty: think on't:
So fare thee well. Thine, to his very death,
That is, a month or two, perhaps, D. Slicer. [Exit.
Enter Shape.
Pot. Kind Master Shape, you are exceeding welcome.
Here hath been Master Hearsay and Lieutenant
Slicer: you may guess at their business, but
I hope you think me faithful.
Shape. I believe
The memory of your husband's ashes, which
Scarce yet are cold, extinguisheth all flames
That tend to kindling any love fire. 'Tis
A virtue in you which I must admire,
That only you, amongst so many, should
Be the sole turtle of the age.
Pot. I do
Bear him in memory, I confess; but when
I do remember what your promise was
When he lay sick, it doth take something from
The bitterness of sorrow. Woman was
Not made to be alone still.
Shape. Tender things
At seventeen may use that plea; but you
Are now arriv'd at matron. These young sparks
Are rak'd up, I presume, in sager embers.
Pot. Nay, don't abuse her that must be your wife.
You might have pity, and not come with your nicknames,
And call me turtle. Have I deserved this?
Shape. If that you once hold merits, I have done.
I'm glad I know what's your religion.
Pot. What's my religion? 'Tis well known there hath
Been no religion in my house, e'er since
My husband died.
Enter Slicer, Hearsay.
Hear. How now, sweet Shape'! So close alone
Wi' your widow!
Shape. Sirs, dare you believe it?
This thing, whose prayer it hath been these ten
Years that she may obtain the second tooth
And the third hair, now doats on me; on me,
That do refuse all that are past sixteen.
Slicer. Why, faith, this was her suit to me just now.
Hear. I had the first on't, then. A coachman or
A groom, were fitter far for her.
Slicer. You do
Honour her too much to think she deserves
A thing that can lust moderately: give her
The sorrel stallion in my lord's long stable.
Shape. Or the same-colour'd brother, which is worse.
Pot. Why, gentlemen——
Hear. Foh, foh! She hath let fly.
Pot. D'you think I have no more manners than so?
Shape. Nay, faith, I can excuse her for that; but
I must confess she spoke, which is all one.
Slicer. Her breath would rout an army sooner than
That of a cannon.
Hear. It would lay a devil
Sooner than all Trithemius' charms.[120]
Shape. Hark how
It blusters in her nostrils, like a wind
In a foul chimney!
Pot. Out, you base companions,
You stinking swabbers!
Hear. For her gait, that's such
As if her nose did strive t' outrun her heels.
Shape. She's just six yards behind when that appears.
It saves an usher, madam.
Pot. You are all
Most foul-mouth'd knaves to use a woman thus.
Slicer. Your plaster'd face doth drop against moist weather.
Shape. Fie, how you writhe it! Now it looks just like
A ruffled boot.
Slicer. Or an oil'd paper-lantern.
Hear. Her nose the candle in the midst of it.
Shape. How bright it flames! Put out your nose, good lady;
You burn daylight.[121]
Pot. Come up, you lousy rascals.
Hear. Not upon you for a kingdom, good Joan.
The Great Turk, Joan, the Great Turk!
Slicer. Kiss him, chuck;
Kiss him, chuck, open-mouth'd, and be reveng'd.
Pot. Hang you, base cheating varlet!
Slicer. Don't you see
December in her face?
Shape. Sure, the surveyor
Of the highways will have to do with her
For not keeping her countenance passable.
Hear. There lies a hoar-frost on her head, and yet
A constant thaw in her nose.
Shape. She's like a piece
Of firewood, dropping at one end, and yet
Burning i' th' midst.
Slicer. O that endeavouring face!
When will your costiveness have done, good madam?
Hear. Do you not hear her guts already squeak
Like kit-strings?
Slicer. They must come to that within
This two or three years: by that time she'll be
True perfect cat. They practise beforehand.
Pot. I can endure no longer, though I should
Throw off my womanhood.
Hear. No need, that's done
Already: nothing left thee that may style thee
Woman, but lust and tongue: no flesh but what
The vices of the sex exact, to keep them
In heart.
Shape. Thou art so lean and out of case,
That 'twere absurd to call thee devil incarnate.
Slicer. Th' art a dry devil, troubled with the lust
Of that thou hast not, flesh.
Pot. Rogue, rascal, villain!
I'll show your cheating tricks, i' faith: all shall
Be now laid open. Have I suffer'd you
Thus long i' my house, and ne'er demanded yet
One penny rent for this? I'll have it all:
By this good blessed light, I will!
Hear. You may,
If that you please undo yourself; you may:
I will not strive to hinder you. There is
Something contriving for you, which may be
Perhaps yet brought about: a match or so;
A proper fellow: 'tis a trifle, that;
A thing you care not for, I know. Have I
Plotted to take you off from these, to match you
In better sort, and am us'd thus? As for
The rent you ask, here take it; take your money;
Fill, choke your gaping throat: but if as yet
You are not deaf to counsel, let me tell you,
It had been better that you ne'er had took it;
It may stop some proceedings.
Pot. Master Hearsay,
You know you may have even my heart out of
My belly (as they say), if you'll but take
The pains to reach it out. I am sometimes
Peevish, I do confess. Here, take your money.
Hear. No.
Pot. Good sir.
Hear. No, keep it and hoard it up;
My purse is no safe place for it.
Pot. Let me
Request you that you would be pleas'd to take it.
Hear. Alas! 'twould only trouble me: I can
As willingly go light as be your treasurer.
Pot. Good Master Slicer, speak to him to take it.
Sweet Master Shape, join with him.[122]
Slicer. Nay, be once
O'errul'd by a woman.
Shape. Come, come; you shall take it.
Pot. Nay, faith you shall. Here, put it up, good sir.
Hear. Upon entreaty, I'm content for once;
But make no custom of't. You do presume
Upon my easy foolishness: 'tis that
Makes you so bold. Were it another man,
He ne'er would have to do with you. But mark me—
If e'er I find you in this mood again,
I'll dash your hopes of marriage for ever.
[Exeunt all but Hearsay.
SCENE III.
To him Meanwell, Andrew.
And. God save you, tutors both!
Mean. Fie, Andrew, fie!
What, kiss your hand! You smell not compliment.
Hear. Besides you come too near, when you salute.
Your breath may be discover'd; and you give
Advantage unto him you thus accost
To shake you by the hand: which often doth
Endanger the whole arm. Your gallant's, like
The crystal glass, brittle; rude handling cracks him.
To be saluted so were to be wounded:
His parts would fall asunder like unto
Spill'd quicksilver. An ear, an eye, a nose,
Would drop, like summer fruit from shaken trees.
Mean. For the same reason, I'd not have you dance.
Some courtiers, I confess, do use it; but
They are the sounder sort; those foolish ones
That have a care of health, which you shall not,
If you'll be rul'd by me. The hazard's great:
'Tis an adventure, an exploit, no[123] piece
Of service for a gentleman, to caper.
Hear. A gallant's like a leg of mutton boil'd
By a Spanish cook: take him but by the one end,
And shake him, all the flesh falls from the bones,
And leaves them bare immediately.
And. I would
Not be a leg of mutton here.
Hear. I saw
In France a monsieur, only in the cutting
Of one cross caper, rise a man, and come
Down, to th' amazement of the standers-by,
A true extemporary skeleton;
And was straight read on.[124]
And. Sure, this man,
Good tutor, was quite rotten.
Mean. See how you
Betray your breeding now. Quite rotten! 'Tis
Rottenness, perhaps, in footmen or in yeomen:
'Tis tenderness in gentlemen; they are
A little over-boil'd, or so.
Hear. He is
A churl, a hind, that's wholesome; some raw thing
That never was at London: one in whom
The clown is too predominant. Refin'd
People feel Naples in their bodies; and
An ache i' th' bones at sixteen passeth now
For high descent: it argues a great birth.
Low bloods are never worthy such infection.
And. Ay, but my father bid me I should live
Honest, and say my prayers; that he did.
Hear. If that you cannot sleep at any time, we do
Allow you to begin your pray'rs, that so
A slumber may seize on you.
Mean. But as for
Your living honest, 'twere to take away
A trade i' th' commonwealth! the surgeons'
Benefit would go down. You may go on
In foolish chastity, eat only salads,
Walk an unskilful thing, and be to learn
Something the first night of your wife; but that's
To marry out of fashion.
And. Here's no proofs,
No doctrines, nor no uses. Tutor, I
Would fain learn some religion.
Hear. Religion!
Yes, to become a martyr, and be pictur'd
With a long label out o' your mouth, like those
In Fox's book;[125] just like a juggler drawing
Riband out of his throat.
And. I must be gone.
Mean. Obedience is the first step unto science:
Stay, and be wise.
And. Indeed, I dare not stay;
The clyster works you sent to purge gross humours. [Exit.
Mean. Being you will not take your lecture out,
Good-morrow to y', good Andrew. This soft fool
Must swim in's father's wealth! It is a curse
That fortune justly makes the city's lot;
The young fool spends whate'er the old knave got. [Exit Meanwell.
SCENE IV.
To Hearsay enter Slicer and Credulous.
Hear. Sir, let me tell you, this is not the least
Of things wherein your wisdom shows itself,
In that you've plac'd your son in this good sort.
Cre. Nay, nay, let me alone to give him breeding:
I did not hold the university
Fit for the training up of such a spirit.
Slicer. The university! 'T had been the only way
T' have took him off his courage and his mettle:
He had return'd, as slaves do from the galleys:
A naked shorn thing, with a thin-dock'd top,
Learnedly cut into a logic mode.
Hear. A private oath given him at first entrance,
Had sworn him pilgrim unto conventicles;
Engag'd him to the hate of all, but what
Pleaseth the stubborn, froward elect.
Slicer. But we,
Following another model, do allow
Freedom and courage, cherish and maintain
High noble thoughts——
Hear. Set nature free, and are
Chemists of manners——
Slicer. Do instruct of states——
Hear. And wars. There's one, look on him——
Slicer. Do but view
That searching head——
Hear. The very soul of battle:
True steel.
Slicer. H' hath been an agent some few years
(A score or so) for princes, and as yet
Doth not write forty.
Hear. I confess I can
Discover th' entrails of a state perhaps.
Lay open a kingdom's paunches, show the bowels
And inwards of a signiory or two;
But for your deeds of valour, there is one,
Although I speak it to his face, that can
Write a geography by his own conquests:
H' hath fought o'er Strabo,[126] Ptolemy,[127] and Stafford;[128]
Travell'd as far in arms as Lithgow[129] naked;
Borne weapons whither Coriat[130] durst not
Carry a shirt or shoes. Jack Mandevile[131]
Ne'er sail'd so far as he hath steer'd by land,
Using his colours both for mast and sail.
Cre. I'd thought h' had been lieutenant.
Hear. That's all one.
Slicer. I've worn some leather out abroad, let out
A heathen soul or two, fed this good sword
With, the black blood of pagan Christians,
Converted a few infidels with it;
But let that pass. That man of peace there hath
Been trusted with kings' breasts—
Hear. His name is heard
Like thunder, and that mere word Slicer hath
Sufficed unto victory.
Slicer. He's close,
Reserv'd, lock'd up. The secrets of the King
Of Tartary, of China, and some other
Counsels of moment, have been so long kept
In's body without vent, that every morning,
Before he covers them with some warm thing
Or other, you may smell 'em very strongly;
Distinguish each of them by several scents—
Hear. A grove of pikes are rushes to him: hail
More frights you than a shower of bullets him—
Slicer. The Dutch come up like broken beer;[132] the Irish
Savour of usquebaugh; the Spanish they
Smell like unto perfume at first, but then
After a while end in a fatal steam—
Hear. One drum's his table, the other is his music:
His sword's his knife; his colours are his napkins;
Carves nourishing horse, as he is us'd to do
The hostile paynim,[133] or we venison; eats
Gunpowder with his meat instead of pepper,
Then drinks o'er all his bandoleers, and fights—
Slicer. Secrets are rank'd and order'd in his belly,
Just like tobacco-leaves laid in a sweat.
Here lies a row of Indian secrets, then
Something of's own on them; on that, another
Of China counsels, cover'd with a lid
Of Newfoundland discoveries: next, a bed
Of Russia policies; on them, a lay
Of Prester-Johnian whispers—
Hear. Slights a tempest;
Counts lightning but a giving fire, and thunder
The loud report when heaven hath discharg'd.
H' hath with his breath[134] suppli'd a breach:
When he's once fix'd, no engine can remove him.
Slicer. 'Twould be a policy worth hatching to
Have him dissected, if 'twere not too cruel.
All states would lie as open as his bowels:
Turkey in's bloody liver; Italy
Be found in's reins; Spain busy in his stomach;
Venice would float in's bladder; Holland sail
Up and down all his veins; Bavaria lie
Close in some little gut, and ragioni
Di Stato[135] generally reek in all.
Cre. I see my son's too happy: he is born
To be some man of action; some engine
For th' overthrow of kingdoms.
Hear. Troth, he may
Divert the torrent of the Turkish rule
Into some other track: dam up the stream
Of that vast headlong monarchy, if that
He want not means to compass his intents.
Cre. The Turkish monarchy's a thing too big
For him to manage: he may make perhaps
The governor of some new little island,
And there plant faith and zeal; but for the present,
M' ambition's only to contrive a match
Between Sir Thomas Bitefig's only daughter
And (if I may so call him now) my son:
'Twill raise his fortunes somewhat.
Slicer. We have got
One that will do more good with's tongue that way
Than that uxorious show'r that came from heaven:
But you must oil it first.
Cre. I understand you:
Grease him i' th' fist, you mean? There's just ten pieces;
'Tis but an earnest: if he bring 't about,
I'll make those ten a hundred.
Hear. Think it done.
[Exit Credulous, and enter Shape and
Meanwell.
SCENE V.
Hearsay, Slicer, Meanwell, Shape.
Hear. Our life, methinks, is but the same with others:
To cosen and be cosen'd makes the age.
The prey and feeder are that civil thing
That sager heads call body politic.
Here is the only difference: others cheat
By statute, but we do't upon no grounds.
The fraud's the same in both; there only wants
Allowance to our way. The commonwealth
Hath not declar'd herself as yet for us;
Wherefore our policy must be our charter.
Mean. Well-manag'd knav'ry is but one degree
Below plain honesty.
Slicer. Give me villany,
That's circumspect and well-advis'd, that doth
Colour at least for goodness. If the cloak
And mantle were pull'd off from things, 'twould be
As hard to meet an honest action as
A liberal alderman or a court-nun.
Hear. Knowing, then, how we must direct our steps,
Let us chalk out our paths: you, Shape, know yours.
Shape. Where'er I light on fortune, my commission
Will hold to take her up: I'll ease my silken
Friends of that idle luggage we call money.
Hear. For my good toothless countess, let us try
To win that old eremite thing that, like
An image in a German clock,[136] doth move,
Not walk—I mean, that rotten antiquary.
Mean. He'll surely love her, 'cause she looks like some
Old ruin'd piece, that was five ages backward.
Hear. To the great vestry-wit, the livery-brain,
My common-council pate, that doth determine
A city-business with his gloves on's head,
We must apply good hope of wealth and means.
Slicer. That griping knight Sir Thomas must be call'd
With the same lure: he knows t' a crumb how much
Loss is in twenty dozen of bread, between
That which is broke by th' hand and that is cut.
Which way best keep his candles, bran or straw:
What tallow's lost in putting of 'em out
By spittle, what by foot, what by the puff,
What by the holding downwards, and what by
The extinguisher; which wick will longest be
In lighting, which spend fastest. He must hear
Nothing but moieties, and lives, and farms,
Copies, and tenures; he is deaf to th' rest.
Mean. I'll speak the language of the wealthy to him;
My mouth shall swill with bags, revenues, fees,
Estates, reversions, incomes, and assurance.
He's in the gin already; for his daughter,
She'll be an easy purchase.[137]
Hear. I do hope
We shall grow famous; have all sorts repair
As duly to us, as the barren wives
Of aged citizens do to St Antholin's.
Come, let us take our quarters; we may come
To be some great officers in time,
And with a reverend magisterial frown
Pass sentence on those faults that are our own. [Exeunt omnes.
FOOTNOTES:
[116] The Declaration concerning "The Book of Sports," set forth some time before. This was a matter very disgusting to the Puritans, who had an equal dislike to the Book of Common Prayer.
[117] This phrase signifies take courage, or summon up resolution. It is at present always written in this manner; formerly it used, [very erroneously,] to be, take heart at grass; as in "Euphues," p. 18: "Rise, therefore, Euphues, and take heart at grasse, younger thou shalt never bee: plucke up thy stomacke, if love have stong thee, it shall not stifle thee."
Again, in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," p. 4: "Therefore taking heart at grasse, drawing more neere him," &c.
And Ibid., p. 24: "Seeing she would take no warning: on a day tooke heart at grasse, and belabour'd her well with a cudgel."
[118] Well-appointed is completely accoutred. So in "The Miseries of Queen Margaret," by Drayton—
"Ten thousand valiant well-appointed men;"
and in the "Second Part of Henry IV." act iv. sc. 1—
"What well-appointed leader fronts us here?"
—Mr Steevens's note on the last passage.
[119] [Old copy, not born.]
[120] See Wolfii "Opera," 1672, ii. 592.
Johannes Trithemius, abbè of the order of St Benedict, and one of the most learned men of the fifteenth century, was born at Tritenheim, in the diocese of Treves, the 1st of February 1462. After having studied for some time, he became a Benedictine friar, and abbot of Spanheim, in the diocese of Mayence, in 1483. He governed the abbey until the year 1506, when he joined the abbey of St James, at Wurtzburgh. He was learned in all sciences, divine and human, and died the 13th of December 1516.
Thevet calls him a subtle philosopher, an ingenious mathematician, a famous poet, an accomplished historian, a very eloquent orator, and eminent divine. Naudius says that those who would make him a magician ground their right on a little book of three or four sheets, printed in 1612, entitled, "Veterum Sophorum sigilla et imagines magicæ, sive sculptura lapidum aut gemmarum ex nomine Tetragrammaton cum signatura planetarum authoribus Zoroastre, Salomone Raphaele, Chaele Hermete Thelete, ex Joan Kithemii manuscripto erutæ." Secondly, his speaking so pertinently of magic, and giving himself the title of magician in some of his epistles. Thirdly, his writing the book of Steganography, a treatise stuffed with the names of devils, and full of invocations, and as very pernicious condemned by Boville as worse than Agrippa. To these Naudius answers that the pamphlet of making images and characters upon stones, under certain constellations, is a pure imposture and cheat of booksellers, it being printed above 120 years before by Camillus Lienard, as the third book of his "Mirror of Precious Stones, De Unguento Armario." From a letter then to a Carmelite of Gaunt, Arnoldus Bostius, the suspicion of his being a magician must be collected, wherein he specified many miraculous and extraordinary effects performed in his treatise of Steganography. This, however, is defended by several writers only as the means to decipher.—Naudius's "History of Magick," translated by Davies, p. 237, &c.
[121] See note on the "Spanish Tragedy," [v. 115]
[122] "Join with me," would suit the sense better, as she is asking Shape to unite his solicitations with hers. The old copy reads as it is reprinted.—Collier.
[123] [Old copy, a.]
[124] [A lecture, probably, was delivered on the phenomenon.]
[125] [The "Book of the Acts and Monuments," &c., 1563, &c. The woodcuts have the dying words of the martyrs printed on labels out of their mouths, in the way mentioned in the text.]
[126] Strabo, a philosopher of Crete and a geographer in the time of Augustus.
[127] Born at Pelusium, flourished about the year 140, and died 162, aged 78.
[128] Robert Stafford, born at Dublin, was of Exeter College, Oxford, and published "A Geographical and Anthological description of all the Empires and Kingdoms, both of Continent and Islands, in this terrestial Globe," &c., 1607. Wood says it was reported that John Prideaux, who was Stafford's tutor, had the chief hand in this work.
[129] [Naked, i.e., unarmed.] William Lithgow, a Scotsman, whose sufferings by imprisonment and torture at Malaga, and whose travels on foot over Europe, Asia, and Africa, seem to raise him almost to the rank of a martyr and a hero, published an account of his peregrinations and adventures, 1614; reprinted in 1616, &c., with additions. At the conclusion of this work he says, "Here is the just relation of nineteene yeares travells, perfited in three deare bought voyages: the generall computation of which dimmensions spaces in my goings, traversings, and returnings through kingdomes, continents, and ilands, which my payneful feet traced over (besides my passages of seas and rivers) amounteth to thirty-six thousand and odde miles; which draweth neare to twice the circumference of the whole earth." [A list of his other works may be found in Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, in v.]
[130] The celebrated Thomas Coriat who, except Lithgow, is supposed to have travelled more miles on foot than any person of his times, or indeed in any period since. From his writings, and many parts of his conduct, he cannot be supposed to have been in his perfect senses. He was, notwithstanding, a man of considerable learning, and rendered himself ridiculous, chiefly by dwelling with too much attention on the trifling accidents which happened to him during his journey. In the year 1608 he left England and went to Venice and back again; a journey performed on foot in five months. On his return, he published an account of it in a large quarto volume, 1611, containing 655 pages, besides more than 100 filled with commendatory verses by Ben Jonson and other wits of the age, who both laughed at and flattered him at the same time. He afterwards travelled into Persia, and from thence into the East Indies (still on foot), and died at Surat in the year 1617.
[131] Sir John Mandevile, Knight, born at St Albans. He was a traveller for the space of thirty-four years, visiting in that time Scythia, Armenia the Greater and Less, Egypt, both Libyas, Arabia, Syria, Media, Mesopotamia, Persia, Chaldæa, Greece, Illyrium, Tartary, and divers other kingdoms. He died at Liege, November 17, 1371. An edition of his travels was printed in 8o, 1725, from a MS. in the Cotton Library.
[132] ["The leavings of what has been drawn for others"—Gifford (edit. of Ben Jonson, vii. 433).] So in Jonson's "Masque of Augurs:" "The poor cattle yonder are passing away the time with a cheat loaf and a bumbard of broken beer."
Again, in the "Masque of Gypsies:" "He were very carefully carried at his mother's back, rocked in a cradle of Welsh cheese, like a maggot, and there fed with broken beer and blown wine of the best daily."
And in Scot's "Belgicke Pismire," 1622, p. 76: "Having before fed themselves full with the sweat of other mens browes, even to gluttonie, drunkenesse, and surfetting, may releeve with their scraps, crummes, bones and broken beere, the necessities of such as they or their predecessors have before undone and made beggers."
[133] [Old copy, paguim.]
[134] Qy. breadth, i.e., stopped a breach by his person.—Collier.
[135] [Reasons or policies of state.]
[136] German clocks were about this time much in use. They are frequently mentioned by Ben Jonson and other writers.—See "Epicæne," act iv. sc. 2.