ACT IV., SCENE I.
Credulous, Hearsay, Slicer.
Cre. My name's not Tribulation,
Nor holy Ananias:
I was baptiz'd in fashion,
Our vicar did hold bias.
Hear. What! how now, Master Credulous? so merry?
Cre. Come, let's be mad: by yea and nay, my son
Shall have the Turkish monarchy; he shall
Have it directly. The twelve companies
Shall be his kickshaws.
Hear. Bashaws, sir, you mean.
Cre. Well, sir, what if I do? Andrew the Great Turk?
I would I were a pepper-corn,[202] if that
It sounds not well. Does't not?
Slicer. Yes, very well.
Cre. I'll make it else great Andrew Mahomet,
Imperious Andrew Mahomet Credulous—
Tell me which name sounds best.
Hear. That's as you speak 'em.
Cre. Oatmealman Andrew! Andrew Oatmealman.
Hear. Ottoman, sir, you mean.
Cre. Yes, Ottoman.
Then, Mistress Jane, Sir Thomas Bitefig's daughter,
That may be the She-Great-Turk, if she please me.
Slicer. The sign o' th' half-moon, that hangs at your door
Is not for nought.
Cre. That's the Turk's arms, they say;
The empire's destin'd to our house directly.
Hang shop-books; give us some wine! Hey for a noise[203]
Of fiddlers now!
Hear. The Great Turk loves no music.
Cre. Does he not so? Nor I. I'll light tobacco
With my sum-totals; my debt-books shall sole[204]
Pies at young Andrew's wedding; cry you mercy,
I would say, gentlemen, the Great Turk's wedding.
My deeds shall be slic'd out in tailors' measures;
They all employed in making Mistress Mahomet
New gowns against the time. Hang dirty wealth!
Slicer. What should the Great Turk's father do with wealth?
Cre. 'Snigs, I would fain now hear some fighting news.
Enter Caster.
Slicer. There's one will furnish you, I warrant you.
Cas. Pox! plague! hell! death! damn'd luck! This 'tis!
The devil take all fortunes! Never man
Came off so: quite and clean defunct, by heaven!
Not a piece left.
Cre. What, all your ordnance lost?
Cas. But one to bear and lose it! All the world
Was, sure, against me.
Cre. 'Snigs, how many fell?
Cas. He threw twice twelve.
Cre. By'r Lady, a shrewd many!
Cas. The devil, sure, was in his hand, I think.
Cre. Nay, if the devil was against you, then——
Cas. But one for to be hit in all the time,
And that, too, safe enough, to any one's thinking:
'T stood on eleven.
Cre. 'Slid, a mighty slaughter;
But did he stand upon eleven at once?
Cas. The plague take all impertinences. Peace!
Cre. These soldiers are so choleric, there is
No dealing with 'em. Then they've lost the day?
Cas. 'Twas ten to one, by heaven, all the while.
Cre. And yet all kill'd at last! Hard fortune, faith!
What news from Brussels or the Hague? D' y' hear
Ought of the Turk's designs?
Cas. I'll make thee news for the Coranti, dotard.
Cre. Ay, the Coranti; what doth that say?
Cas. O hell! Thou foolish thing,
Keep in that tongue of thine; or——
Slicer. Good now, peace:
He's very furious when he's mov'd.
Hear. This 'twas.
You must be venturing without your fancy-man.
Cre. What officer's that fancy-man, lieutenant?
Some great commander, sure.
Cas. Pox! let it go;
I'll win't again: 'twas but the relics of
An idle hundred.
Cre. 'Snigs, and well-remember'd.
You did receive the hundred that I sent you
To th' race this morning by your man, my bailiff?
Cas. Take him away, his wine speaks in him now.
Cre. Godsnigs! the farm is mine, and must be so.
Slicer. Debate these things another time, good friends.
Enter Have-at-all.
Come, come, have patience. Od's my life, away!
There's Master Have-at-all is mad; he'll spit you
If he but know you are a usurer.
Cre. A plot, a plot, to take away my life and farm!
[Exit.
Have. Fight, as I live, with any one. Lieutenant,
Do not come near me now, nor yet thou, Caster:
It works, 'fore Mars, it works; I'll take my walk,
And if I do find any one, by Jove——
[Exit Have-at-all.[205]
Cas. What, 's he fox'd too? Some drunken planet reigns,
And works upon the world. Provide my fancy,
Good noble patron; I'll win soberly,
I itch till I have beggar'd all the city. [Exit Caster.
Hear. Till that you have undone yourself, you mean.
Enter Moth.
Moth. Ey save you both; for dern love sayen soothly
Where is thylk amebly franklin, cleped Meanwell?
Hear. He's gone abroad.
Moth. Lere me whylk way he wended.
Slicer. He is gone o'er the fields.
Hear. To the knight's house.
Moth. Why laugh you every dele? So mote I gone,
This goeth not aright; I dread some covin. [Exit Moth.
Slicer. Now will he meet with Have-at-all; there'll be
A combat worthy chronicle. Let's go,
And see how this grave motion[206] will bestir him. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Have-at-all: after a while, Moth; Slicer and Hearsay watching.
Have. What, no man yet march by? Whoe'er comes next,
I'll give him one rap more for making me
Stay here so long.
Enter Moth.
So, so, here he is; how shall
I do to know whe'r he be a gentleman,
Or yeoman, or servingman. I think
I'd best suppose him all, and beat him through
Every degree; and so I shall not wrong him.
What? Who goes there?
Moth. Waes-heal,[207] thou gentle knight.
Have. Waes-heal, thou gentle knight? Speak, what art thou?
Speak quickly do. Villain, know'st thou not me?
Moth. Now, by my troth, I know not your name;
Whider I shall call you my Lord Dan John,
Or Dan Thomas, or Dan Robert, or Dan Albon.
I vow to God thou hast a full fair chine.
Upon my faith, art some officer.
Have. Have you the pox, sir? speak.
Moth. No.
Have. No, nor yet
An ache in your bones?
Moth. No.
Have. No! why then you are
No gentleman; Lieutenant Slicer says so.
This cudgel then serves turn.
Moth. You will not foin,[208]
Have. I will not foin, but I will beat you, sir.
Moth. Why intermete[209] of what thou hast to done;[210]
So leteth me alone, 't shall be thy best.
Have. I fanci'd you a beating; you must have it.
You shall not say but I will show you favour:
Choose whether you will be hacked with my sword,
Or bruis'd by my battoon.
Moth. Dre not thy true
And poynant[211] morglay[212] out of shete. Lo, thus
Eftsoons, sir knight, I greet thee lowting low.
Have. Down lower yet.
Moth. Reuth[213] on my grey haires.
Have. Yet lower. So, then, thus I do bestride thee.
Moth. Tubal the sonne of Lamech did yfind
Music by knocking hammers upon anviles.
Let go thine blows; thylke art is no compleat.[214]
Have. Dost thou make me a smith, thou rogue? a Tubal?
Moth. Harrow[215] alas! Flet, Englond, flet, Englond!
Dead is Edmond.
Have. Take that for history.
O brave lieutenant, now thy dinner works!
Moth. I nis not Edmond Ironside, God wot.
Have. More provocation yet? I'll seal thy lips.
Moth. A twenty-devil way! So did the Saxon[216]
Upon thylke plain of Sarum done to death
By treachery the lords of merry Englond,
Nem esur Saxes.
Have. Villain, dost abuse me
In unbaptized language? Do not answer: [Moth entreats by signs.
If that thou dost, by Jove, I'll strangle thee.
Do you make mouths, you rascal, thus at me?
You're at dumb-service now. Why, this is more
Unsufferable than your old patch'd gibberish:
This silence is abuse. I'll send thee to
The place of it, where thou shalt meet with Oswald,
Vortigern, Harold, Hengist, Horsa, Knute,
Alured, Edgar, and Cunobeline. [Slicer, Hearsay step in.
Thus, thus I sheathe my sword.
Slicer. Redoubted knight
Enough: it is thy foe doth vanquish'd lie
Now at thy mercy. Mercy not withstand;
For he is one the truest knight alive,
Though conquer'd now he lie on lowly ground.
Have. Thou ow'st thy life to my lieutenant, caitiff:
Breathe and be thankful.
Moth. I rech[217] not thine yeft;[218]
Maugre[219] thine head; algate[220] I suffer none.
I am thine lefe, thine deere, mine Potluck Joan.
SCENE III.
Andrew, Priscilla.
And. Fairest of things, tralucent creature—Hang me,
If I do know what's next.
Pris. This meant to me?
And. Fairest of things, tralucent creature, rather,
Obscured deity—'Tis gone again.
Lady, will you eat a piece of gingerbread?
Pris. You might have better manners, than to scoff
One of my breeding.
And. Hark! Indeed I love you.
Pris. Alas!
And. I vow, I burn in love, as doth
A penny fagot.
Pris. Heigho!
And. And I shall
Blaze out, sir reverence, if ye do not quench me.
Pris. Indeed now?
And. Though I say't that should not say't,
I am affected towards you strangely.
Pris. Now,
Who'd have thought it?
And. There's a thing each night
Comes to my bed's head, and cries, Matrimony,
Matrimony, Andrew.
Pris. God forbid!
And. It is
Some spirit that would join us.
Pris. Goodly, goodly.
And. Then do I shake all over.
Pris. Doth it so?
And. Then shake again.
Pris. I pray you now.
And. Then cry,
Fairest of things, tralucent creature, rather,
Obscured deity, sweet Mistress Jane,
I come, I come.
Pris. Sweet sir, you are deceiv'd;
I'm but her woman. Here she comes herself.
Enter Mistress Jane.
And. Now, as my father saith, I would I were
A cucumber, if I know what to do.
Jane. Why, how now, Pris.? Who's that that useth you
So lovingly?
And. Fairest of things—'tis one
Tralucent creature—'tis—ay, that it is,
One——
Pris. That would willingly run out of doors,
If that he had but law enough.
And. I say——
Jane. Nay, ben't afraid; here's none shall do you harm.
And. 'Tis one that brought his pigs to the wrong market.
You keep your woman here so fine, that I
Had like t' have made a proper business on't,
Before I was aware. If anything
Do prove amiss, indeed, la, you shall be
The father on't. But know, tralucent creature,
I am come off entire, and now am yours,
Whole Andrew Credulous, your servant's servant.
Jane. Methinks you contradict yourself: how can you
Be wholly mine, and yet my servant's servant?
And. I do but compliment in that (I see
Downright's the best way here); if thou canst love,
I can love too. La, thee there, now! I'm rich.
Jane. I use not to look after riches; 'tis
The person that I aim at.
And. That is me:
I'm proper, handsome, fair, clean-limb'd—I'm rich.
Jane. I must have one that can direct and guide me:
A guardian rather than a husband; for
I'm foolish yet.
And. Now see the luck on't, lady;
So am I too, i' faith.
Jane. And whoe'er hath me,
Will find me to be one of those things, which
His care must first reform.
And. Do not doubt that;
I have a head for reformation:
This noddle here shall do it. I am rich.
Jane. Riches create no love: I fear you mean
To take me for formality only;
As some staid piece of household stuff, perhaps,
Fit to be seen 'mongst other ornaments:
Or, at the best, I shall be counted but
A name of dignity; not entertain'd
For love, but state; one of your train; a thing
Took to wipe off suspicion from some fairer,
To whom you have vow'd homage.
And. Do not think
I've any plots or projects in my head.
I will do anything for thee, that thou
Canst name or think on.
Pris. Pray you try him, mistress.
By my virginity, I think he'll flinch.
And. By my virginity (which is as good
As yours, I'm sure)—by my virginity,
If that we men have any such thing (as
We men have such a thing), I do believe
I will not flinch. Alas! you don't know Andrew.
Jane. Can you obtain but so much respite from
Your other sovereign's service, as to keep
Your eye from gazing on her for awhile?
And. If I do look on any woman—nay,
If I do cast a sheep's eye upon any
But your sweet self, may I lose one of mine!
Marry, I'll keep the other howsoe'er.
Jane. I know not how I may believe you: you'll
Swear you ne'er cast a glance on any, when
Your eye hath baited at each face you met.
And. Blind me, good, now: being you mistrust, I will
Be blinded with this handkerchief; you shall
See that I love you now. So, let me have
But any reasonable thing to lead me home,
I do not care, though't be a dog, so that
He knows the way, or hath the wit t' inquire it.
Jane. That care, sir, shall be mine. [Exeunt Jane and Priscilla.
And. I doubt not but
I shall be in the Chronicle for this,
Or in a ballad else. This handkerchief
Shall be hung up i' th' parish church, instead
Of a great silken flag to fan my grave:
With my arms in't, portray'd in good blue thread,
With this word underneath—This, this was he
That shut his eyes because he would not see.
Hold, who comes there?
Enter Meanwell, Shape.
Mean. One, sir, to lead you home.
And. Who? tutor Meanwell?
[Shape counterfeits Mistress Jane's voice.
Shape. Yes, I do commit you
Unto your trusty friend: if you perform
This vow, we may——
And. I'll say your sentence out—
Be man and wife.
Shape. If you'll do something else
That I'll propose.
And. Pray make your own conditions.
Shape. You'll promise me you'll not be jealous of me?
And. Do what you will, I'll trust you.
Shape. Never hire
Any to tempt me?
And. By this light (I would say,
By this darkness), I never will.
Shape. Nor mark
On whom I laugh?
And. No.
Shape. Nor suspect my smiles,
My nods, my winks?
And. No, no.
Shape. Nor yet keep count
From any gallant's visit?
And. I'll ne'er reckon:
You shall do what you will.
Shape. You'll never set
Great chests and forms against my chamber-door;
Nor pin my smock unto your shirt a-nights,
For fear I should slip from you ere you wake?
And. As I do hope for day, I will not.
Shape. Give me
Some small pledge from you to assure your love;
If that you yet prove false, I may have something
To witness your inconstancy. I'll take
This little ruby—this small blushing stone
From your fair finger.
And. Take it, sweet. There is
A diamond in my band-string; if you have
A mind to that, I pray, make use of't too.
Shape. In troth, a stone of lustre. I assure you,
It darts a pretty light, a veget spark,[221]
It seems an eye upon your breast.
And. Nay, take it,
For love's sake, take it then: leave nothing that
Looks like an eye about me.
Shape. My good Andrew,
'Cause of thy resolution, I'll perform
This office for thee. Take my word for't, this
Shall ne'er betray thee. [Exit Shape.
And. Farewell, honest Jany;
I cannot see to thank thee, my sweet Jany.
Tutor, your hand; good tutor, lead me wisely.
Mean. Take comfort, man; I have good news for thee:
Thine eyes shall be thine own before next morning. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Shape, Chirurgeon, Mercer.
Shape. He's a good friend of mine, and I presume
Upon your secrecy.
Chir. O sir, the deed
By which it came was not more close. D' y' think
I would undo myself by twitting? 'Twere
To bring the gallants all about mine ears,
And make me mine own patient. I'm faithful
And secret, though a barber.
Shape. Nay, but hear me;
He's very modest: 'twas his first attempt
Procur'd him this infirmity. He will
Be bashful, I am sure, and won't be known
Of any such thing at the first. You must
Be sure to put him to't.
Chir. Let me alone:
He knows not yet the world, I do perceive.
It is as common now with gentlemen,
As 'tis to follow fashion: only here
Lieth the difference, that they keep in this
A little longer. I shall have so much
Upon your word, sir?
Shape. If you do perform
The cure by that time, twenty pieces, sir:
You are content?
Mer. Yes, sir.
Chir. It shall be done [Exit Shape.
According to your own prescription.
Sit down, I pray you, sir: this gentleman
Is a good friend of yours.
Mer. Indeed he is a very honest man,
As any one can wish to deal with, verily.
Chir. Believe't, he loves you very well.
Mer. I am most ready
To do him any service truly. Pray you,
Good brother, don't delay me: I'm in haste.
Chir. Indeed-and truly-verily-good brother!
How could these milksop words e'er get him company
That could procure the pox? [Aside.] Where do you feel
You[r] grief most trouble you?
Mer. I'm very well: what mean you, brother?
Chir. Nay, be not so modest:
'Tis no such heinous fault, as that you should
Seek thus to hide it; mere ill-fortune only—
Mer. Surely you do forget yourself.
Chir. Come, come,
He told me you'd be shamefac'd: you must be
Wary hereafter.
Mer. I do perceive
He is a little mad indeed: the gentleman
Told me so much just as I came along. [Aside.
Yes, yes, I will be wary; I'll take heed.
Come, pray y', despatch me.
Chir. So, I like you now.
It is the custom of most gentlemen
Not to confess until they feel their bones
Begin t' admonish 'em.
Mer. You are i' th' right.
Good friend, make haste; I've very urgent business.
Chir. Not rashly neither. Is your gristle sound?
Methinks 'tis very firm as yet to the touch.
You fear no danger there as yet, sir, do you?
Mer. No, I'll assure you. He must have his humour:
I see he is not to be cross'd. [Aside.
Chir. When did you
Feel the first grudging on't? 'Tis not broke out
In any place?
Mer. No, no: I pray y', despatch me.
Chir. These things desire deliberation;
Care is requir'd.
Mer. Good brother, go t' your chest.
Chir. How can I know what med'cines to apply,
If that you tell me not where lies your grief?
Mer. Nay, good, now let me go.
Chir. I must not, sir,
Nor will not, truly. Trust me, you will wish
You had confess'd, and suffer'd me in time,
When you shall come to dry-burnt racks of mutton,
The syringe, and the tub.[222]
Mer. So: now enough.
Pray fetch me what you promis'd.
Chir. Are you wild
Or mad? I do protest, I ne'er did meet
A gentleman of such perverseness yet.
I find you just as I was told I should.
Mer. I lose the taking, by my swear, of[223]
As much, whiles that I am receiving this.
Chir. I will not hinder you, if that you do
Prefer your gain before your health.
Mer. Well then,
I pray you tell it out: we tradesmen are not
Masters of our own time.
Chir. What would you have?
Mer. What would I have? as if you did not know!
Come, come, leave jesting now at last, good brother.
Chir. I am in earnest, sir.
Mer. Why, I would have
My money, sir; the twenty pieces that
The gentleman did give you order now
To pay me for the velvet that he bought
This morning of me.
Chir. O, the gentleman——
Mer. You should not make a laughingstock, good brother,
Of one that wrongs you not; I do profess
I wont be fubb'd, ensure yourself.
Chir. The gentleman!
O, O, the gentleman! Is this the cure
I should perform? Truly I dare not venture
Upon such desperate maladies.
Mer. You are but merrily dispos'd?
Chir. Indeed, they are
Too high for my small quality. Verily
Perhaps, good brother, you might perish under
Mine hands truly. I do profess, I am not
Any of your bold mountebanks in this.
Mer. You're still dispos'd——
Chir. To laugh at you, good brother.
Gull'd, by my swear: by my swear, gull'd! he told me
You had a small infirmity upon you,
A grief of youth or two: and that I should
Have twenty pieces for the cure. He ask'd you,
If that you were content? you answered, yes.
I was in hope I had gain'd a patient more.
Your best way is to make haste after him.
Mer. Now could I beat myself for a wise fool
That I was, thus to trust him. [Exit.
Chir. B' w' y', brother.
'Fore God, a good one. O, the gentleman! [Exit laughing.
SCENE V.
Rhymewell, Bagshot, Catchmey, Sir Christopher: a song at a window, congratulating (as they think) Master Meanwell's marriage.
1. Whiles early light springs from the skies
A fairer from your bride doth rue;
A brighter day doth thence appear,
And makes a second morning there.
Her blush doth shed
All o'er the bed
Clean shamefac'd beams,
That spread in streams,
And purple round the modest air.
2. I will not tell what shrieks and cries,
What angry pishes, and what fies,
What pretty oaths then newly born,
The list'ning taper heard there sworn:
Whiles froward she
Most peevishly
Did yielding fight
To keep o'er night,
What she'd have proffer'd you ere morn.
3. Fair, we know, maids do refuse
To grant what they do come to lose.
Intend a conquest, you that wed;
They would be chastely ravished.
Not any kiss
From Mistress Pris,
If that you do,
Persuade and woo:
Know pleasure's by extorting fed.
4. O, may her arms wax black and blue
Only by hard encircling you:
May she round about you twine,
Like the easy-twisting vine;
And whiles you sip
From her full lip
Pleasures as new
As morning dew,
Let those soft ties your hearts combine.
Singer. God give you joy, Master Meanwell!
God give your worship good morrow!
Rhyme. Come, let's be going.
Chris. Hold, a blow I'll have,
One jerk at th' times, wrapp'd in a benediction
O' th' spouse's teeming, and I'll go with you.
A Song.
Now thou, our future brother,
That shalt make this spouse a mother,
Spring up, and Dod's blessing on't.[224]
Show thy little sorrel pate,
And prove regenerate,
Before thou be brought to the font.
May the parish surplice be
Cut in pieces quite for thee,
To wrap thy soft body about;
So 'twill better service do,
Reformed thus into
The state of an orthodox clout.
When thou shalt leave the cradle,
And shalt begin to waddle,
And trudge in thy little apron;
May'st thou conceive a grace
Of half an hour's space,
And rejoice in thy Friday capon.
For an error that's the flock's,
Name Master Paul, but urge St Knox;[225]
And at every reform'd dinner,
Let cheese come in, and preaching,
And by that third course teaching
Confirm an unsatisfi'd sinner.
Thence grow up to hate a ring,
And defy an offering;
And learn to sing what others say.
Let Christ-tide be thy fast,
And Lent thy good repast;
And regard not an holy-day.
Enter CONSTABLE and Assistants.
Con. Lay hold on them! lay hold on them, I say!
I'll hamper them.
Catch. Hell take your headlong zeal!
You must be jerking at the times, forsooth.
I am afraid the times will 'scape, and we,
The men of them, shall suffer now the scourge.
Con. Let none escape.
Chris. 'Twas godliness, verily:
It was a hymn I warbled.
Con. Thou dost lie,
It was no hymn, it was a song. Is this
Your filthy rendezvous? you shall be taught
Another tune.
Chris. I do beseech you, show
Merciful cruelty, and as 'twere a kind
Of pitiful hard-heartedness. I'm strong.
[They bring in Andrew and Priscilla.
Con. I'm glad you told me so, I will provide
Your ward accordingly. Drag 'em out both.
And. Let me but send to th' ordinary.
Con. You shall not;
The ord'nary hath sent to you. No bail:
I will take none. I'll suffer no such sneaks
As you to offend this way: it doth belong
T'your betters, sir.
And. Here's a sufficient man,
I do assure you; take my word for that.
Con. This staff was made to knock down sin. I'll look
There shall be no advoutry[226] in my ward,
But what is honest. I'll see justice done
As long as I'm in office. Come along. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[202] So Falstaff says ("First Part Henry IV.," act iii. sc. 3): "An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse."
[203] A noise of fiddlers is a company or concert of them; as in Ben Jonson's "Epicæne," act iii. sc. 3: "The smell of the venison, going through the street, will invite one noise of fiddlers or other."
So in "Bartholomew Fair," act iii. sc. 6: "Cry you mercy, sir; will you buy a fiddle to fill up your noise?"
In Marmyon's "Fine Companion," act iv. sc. 1: "He come but with a troope of wenches, and a noyse of fidlers; and play thee backe like Orpheus."
Again, in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1608, sig. G 2: "To bee up more earely then a noyse of shrugging fidlers."
And in "Miscellaneous State Papers from 1501 to 1726," vol. i. p. 87: "After the which they had a very notable banquet; the heavenly noise that was there, as well with strange instruments of music as otherwise, I cannot declare."
See also the examples in Mr Steevens's note on "Henry IV., Part II.," act ii. sc. 4.
[204] i.e., Be placed at the bottom of them, and act as the sole to the shoe.—Steevens.
[205] The old copy has it, Enter Have-at-all; but it is an obvious error of the press.—Collier.
[206] See note to "The Antiquary" [act i., sc. 1, vol. 13].
[207] A term anciently used in salutation, or rather in drinking. See Selden's notes on the ninth song of Drayton's "Polyolbion," and [Steevens's] notes on "Macbeth," act i. sc. 7, for a particular account of the origin of this phrase.—Steevens.
[208] [A term in fencing.]
[209] [Cartwright's adoption of the English of a period of which he was evidently very ignorant, has made his character of "The Antiquary" a very tedious and troublesome one. By intermete we are here to understand intermit; but there is no such word in early English. Intermit occurs in Coleridge's "Glossary," 1859.]
[210] To do.
[211] [Old copy, paynant.]
[212] Morglay was the sword of Bevis of Southampton. It afterwards became a cant word for a sword in general. See "Every Man in his Humour," Act iii. so. 1; also "Every Woman in her Humour," 1609, sig. D 4—
"Had I been accompanied with my toledo or morglay."
[213] Pity.
[214] Now complete. The passage requires this explanation, or poor Moth's argument seems to want force, his present hopes being founded on a supposition that all possible discoveries to be made by beating have been already made.
[215] Moth here seems to allude to the following circumstance in the English History: "But uppon the morne followynge, both hostes joyned agayne, and fought egerly: contynuyng whych fyghte, Edrycus espying Edmunde to be at advauntage of wynnyng of the feld, sodaynly pyght a dead mannes hed upon a speare head, and cryed to the host of Englyshmen, fle, fle, ye Englyshmen, and save youre selfes, lo here is the heade of Edmunde your kinge."—Fabyan's "Chronicle."
[216] Verstegan, in his "Restitution of Decayed Intelligence," 1634, p. 130, gives the following account of this transaction:—"King Hingistus prepared them a feast; and after the Brittains were well whitled with wine, he fell to taunting and girning at them; whereupon blowes ensued; and the Brittish nobility there present, being in all three hundreth, were all of them slaine; as William of Malmesbury reporteth: though others make the number more, and say that the Saxons had each of them a seax (a kind of crooked knife) closely in his pocket, and that at the watch-word, Nem cowr seaxes, which is, take your seaxes, they suddainely, and at unwares, slew the Brittaines."
[217] Care not.
[218] Gift.
[219] In spite of.
[220] Always.
[221] A lively spark.
[222] [Old copy, syren.] So in "Timon of Athens," act iv. sc. 3—
"The tub-fast and the diet."
See a note on that passage, Shakespeare, viii. 409, edit. 1778.—Steevens.
[223] [Old copy repeats taking after of, as it appears, erroneously, since it spoils the sense, and is not essential to the metre, such metre as it is! By my swear, by my oath: it is an unusual phrase, but occurs again just below.]
[224] John Dod, a learned and pious divine, born in Cheshire, educated at Jesus College, Cambridge, and afterwards successively minister of Hanwell, Oxfordshire, Fenny Drayton, Leicestershire, Canons Ashby and Fawsley in Northamptonshire, though for a time silenced in each of them. He is commonly called the Decalogist, having with Robert Cleaver, another Puritan, written "An Exposition on the Ten Commandments." He died at Fawsley in 1645, aged about ninety years. [For whatever the preceding account may be worth it is retained; but Dod's blessing seems to be merely a whimsical corruption of God's blessing.]
[225] This was John Knox, the celebrated reformer in Scotland. See his character in Robertson's "History of Scotland," i. 130.