ACT V., SCENE I.
Sir Thomas Bitefig as sick, Jane.
Sir T. Now that I have made even, girl, with heaven,
Though I am past the worst, and I perceive
My dinner only griev'd me; yet 'cause life's
Frail and uncertain, let me counsel thee—
'Tis good to be beforehand still. First, then,
I charge thee, lend no money; next, serve God;
If ever thou hast children, teach them thrift;
They'll learn religion fast enough themselves.
Nay, do not weep, but hearken. When heaven shall
Please to call in this weary soul of mine;
Ben't idle in expense about my burial:
Buy me a shroud—any old sheet will serve
To clothe corruption; I can rot without
Fine linen; 'tis but to enrich the grave,
And adorn stench—no reverence to the dead,
To make them crumble more luxuriously.
One torch will be sufficient to direct
The footsteps of my bearers. If there be
Any so kind as to accompany
My body to the earth, let them not want
For entertainment: prythee, see they have
A sprig of rosemary dipp'd in common water,
To smell to, as they walk along the streets.
Eatings and drinkings are no obsequies.
Raise no oppressing pile to load my ashes;
But if thou'lt needs b' at charges of a tomb,
Five or six foot of common stone, engraved
With a good hopeful word, or else a couple
Of capital letters filled up with pitch,
Such as I set upon my sheep, will serve:
State is not meet for those that dwell in dust.
Mourn as thou pleasest for me; plainness shows
True grief. I give thee leave to do it for
Two or three years, if that thou shalt think fit;
'Twill save expense in clothes. And so now be
My blessing on thee, and my means hereafter.
Jane. I hope heaven will not deal so rigidly
With me, as to preserve me to th' unwelcome
Performance of these sad injunctions.
SCENE II.
To them Meanwell.
Mean. Good health unto you, sir.
Sir T. I have the more
By reason of the care you took in sending
A confessor unto me.
Mean. I? a confessor?
Sure, there is some design, some trick or other
Put on you by those men, who never sleep,
Unless they've cheated on that day.
Sir T. I hope
You do mean your partners my good friends?
Mean. They ne'er deserve the name of friends; they do
Covet, not love. If any came from them,
It was some vulture in a holy habit,
Who did intend your carcase, not your safety.
Indeed I know not of't; I've all this while
Appear'd another to you than I am. [Discloseth himself.
Perhaps you know me now, I'm he whom you
Pleas'd to forbid your house—whom Master Credulous
Takes leave to style lost man and vagabond.
Sir T. That I forbad you my house, was only
In care to my daughter, not in hate to you.
Mean. That I frequented it without your leave,
Was both in love to you and to your daughter:
That I have all this while liv'd thus disguis'd,
Was only to avert the snare from you,
Not to entrap you: that you might not be
Blinded by those who, like to venomous beasts,
Have only sight to poison; that you might not
Ruin your daughter in a compliment.
Sir T. This may b' your plot, and this discovery
Feign'd only to secure your own designs;
For't cannot sink into me, that they durst
Make mirth of my repentance, and abuse
My last devotion with a scene of laughter.
Mean. They dare beyond your thought. When parted this
Your confessor?
Sir T. You could not choose but meet him:
He is scarce yet at home.
Mean. If that you dare
But venture with me home, I'll almost promise
I'll make it plain they've put a trick upon you.
Sir T. Though every step were so much toward my grave,
I'd tread them o'er with comfort, that I might
Discover this religious villany. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Hearsay, Slicer, and Shape in his Confessor's habit.
Hear. Come, my good vulture, speak; what prey? what mirth?
Slicer. What income, my dear holiness? what sport?
Shape. Give me the chair: imagine me the knight
(When I sit down), and (when I stand) the confessor.
[As he is thus acting, Meanwell and Sir
Thomas discover themselves above.
Thus I come in peace to thy soul, good son.
'Tis you must give it, father: I am ill,
I'm very ill; fit only now for heaven.
My soul would fain be flying, were't not for
A sin or two that clogs her. But for a sin
Or two that clogs her? Take heed; don't, so near
Your last deliverance, play the sophister
With heaven. A sin or two! why, I've heard say
You're wont to screw your wretched tenants up
To th' utmost farthing, and then stand upon
The third rent-capon. Then he answers me
In the small doleful tune of a country wench
Examin'd by th' official for the mischance
Of a great belly caught at a Whitson-ale:[227]
I could not help it. Then it is your custom,
When you invite, to think your meat laid out,
You write your beef disburs'd, are wont to call
For the return of't just as for a debt;
True. That two chimneys ne'er yet smok'd at once
In all your buildings. All most true. That you
Are wont to keep an untouch'd capon, till
Corruption makes it able to walk out
And visit the barn-door again. I could
Say much more, but I had rather have you
Come so much nearer pardon, as t' accuse
Yourself by your own mouth.
Slicer. How grave the rogue was!
Shape. I'll do't as strictly as mine enemy.
Sir T. I cannot hold: I'll break in as I am,
And take my vengeance whilst my fury's hot. [Above.
Mean. Repress it, sir, awhile; h' hath but begun.
[Above.
Shape. Then thus he drawls it out, I do confess
I've been addicted to frugality.
Son, do not mince: pray, call it covetousness.
Imprimis, It hath ever been my custom
To ride beyond an inn to save my horse-meat.
Item, When once I had done so, and found
No entertainment, I beguil'd the children
Of their parch'd peas: my man being left to that
We make the emblem of mortality.
What? Grass, you mean? Or sweet hay, which you please.
Hear. Methinks this is truly coming to a reckoning.
He doth account for's sins with Item so.
Shape. Item, I've often bought a Cheapside custard,
And so refresh'd my soul under my cloak,
As I did walk the streets. Cloaking of sins,
Although they be but eating sins, I do
Pronounce most dangerous. I find this so,
I'd almost lost mine eyes by't, being justled.
Slicer. O thou rich soul of roguery!
Shape. Moreover,
I once sung Psalms with servants, where I lodg'd,
And took part with 'em in their lovely reliques;
Truly my soul did lust, they were temptations.
What! sing that you might eat? It is the sin
O' th' brethren, son; but that their reliques are
Whole widows' houses.
Hear. O thou preaching devil!
Shape. Item, I entered into a chandler's shop,
And eat my bread in secret, whilst my man
Fed on the wholesome steam of candle-suet,
Item, which grieves me most, I did make bold
With the black puddings of my needy tailor:
Satan was strong; they did provoke me much.
Sir T. Wretch that I was, to trust my bosom to
One so exactly bad that, if the book
Of all men's lives lay open to his view,
Would meet no sin unpractis'd by himself.
I will rush in. [Above.
Mean. Good sir, keep close awhile. [Above.
Shape. I see no tears, no penitential tears.
Alas! I cannot weep, mine eyes are pumice:
But alms I hope may yet redeem. Alms given
In a large manner, son. Won't fifty pounds
Wipe off my score? If doubled, 't may do something.
Can I be sav'd no cheaper? Take this, then,
And pray for me. With that I thus dismiss'd him.
Bless'd son, for now I dare pronounce thee bless'd,
Being thou'st pour'd thus out thy soul.—The wolf!
The wolf! 'Sfoot, peace, we're in the noose;
We are betray'd; yon's Meanwell and the knight!
Truly he is as good a man as any
I ever yet confess'd—don't look that way—
A very honest, charitable man,
Full of sincerity and true devotion.
Sir T. Patience itself would now turn furious.
Let's for some officers.
[Exeunt Sir Thomas and Meanwell.
Shape. Discover'd all!
Religion is unlucky to me.
Hear. Man,
Perfidious man! there is no trust in thee!
Slicer. I never lik'd this Meanwell; I did always
See treachery writ in's forehead. I well hop'd
H' had been in prison with his wench.
Shape. Leave railing.
Along with me. There is left one way more;
The cat may yet perhaps light on all four.[228] [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Sir Thomas Bitefig, Meanwell, Constable, Watchmen.
Sir T. What, gone! Upon my life, they did mistrust.
Mean. They are so beaten, that they smell an officer,
As crows do powder.
Sir T. Watchman, call you forth
The mistress of the house imprimis; for
[Exit Officer.
They have their lurking-hole near hand most certain.
Enter Moth and Potluck, as man and wife.
Moth. Denuncio vobis gaudium magnum,
Robertus de Tinea electus est in sedem hospitalem,
Et assumit sibi nomen Galfridi.
Joy comes to our house: I, Robert Moth, am
Chesen into thylk hospital seat,
Thylk bason of Joan Potluck, vintner's widow,
And do transmue[229] my name to Geffery.
New foysons[230] byn ygraced with new titles.
Come, buss. [Kisses her.
Pot. Fie! Master Geffery, I swear
You make m' asham'd 'fore all this company.
Sir T. Sir, if you be the master of this house,
You've harbour'd here a company of cheating
Villains we are come to apprehend.
Pot. Pray y', look,
Search every corner: here's no cheats. I'm sure
The house was clear before your worship enter'd.
Con. Make fast the doors, for fear they do escape.
Let's in, and ferret out these cheating rake-hells.
[As the Watchmen go in and out about the
rooms, Hearsay, Slicer, and Shape,
mingle themselves with them, being accounted
watchmen, and so pass without discovery.
Enter 1st Watchman and Hearsay.
1st Watch. 'Tis very certain they are not in the house.
Sir T. They had no time to get away.
Hear. Why, then,
It may be, being they are such cunning fellows,
They have the trick of going invisible.
Enter 2d Watchman and Slicer.
2d Watch. There's no place left unsearch'd but pots and mouseholes.
Slicer. They're either gone or in the house, that's certain.
2d Watch. That cannot be: the doors were shut, I'm sure,
And so they could not get out; the rooms then are
All search'd, and so they cannot be within.
Slicer. I'll lay my neck to a farthing, then, they're vanish'd.
Hear. Sunk like the Queen; they'll rise at Queenhive, sure![231]
Enter Constable and other Watchmen, and Shape among 'em, bringing in Credulous and Caster.
Shape. Most certain, these are two of them: for this
Old knave, I'll take my oath that he is one.
Con. Confess, confess: where are your other comrades?
Cre. I am as honest as the skin that is
Between thy brows.
Con. What skin between my brows?
What skin, thou knave? I am a Christian;
And, what is more, a constable! What skin?[232]
Sir T. You are mistaken, friends.
Con. I cry you mercy.
Shape. The constable may call you anything
In the king's name, upon suspicion.
Sir T. We're cheated, friends: these men o' th' ordinary
Have gull'd us all this while, and now are gone.
Cas. I am undone! Ne'er let me live, if that
I did not think they would gull me. I perceive
Fancy doth much: see, how 'tis come to pass!
Cre. Where is my son? God bless, him!
Where is Andrew?
Pray God they have not taken him along:
He hath a perilous wit to be a cheat;
H'd quickly come to be his Majesty's taker.
Con. I took one Andrew Credulous this morning
In dishonest adultery with a trull;
And if he be your son, he is in prison.
Cre. Their villainy, o' my life! Now, as I am
A freeman and a grocer, I had rather have
Found forty pounds. I pray, go fetch him.
[Exit Officer.
Sir T. I'm sorry that your son takes these lewd courses;
He is not fit to make a husband of.
Cre. Do not condemn before you hear. I'll warrant,
Though he be guilty, yet he's innocent.
Enter Have-at-all.
Moth. Hent[233] him, for dern love, hent him; I done drad
His visage foul, yfrounc'd[234] with glowing eyne.
Have. I come t' excuse my ruder usage of you;
I was in drink when that I did it: 'twas
The plot of those base knaves, I hear, are gone,
To teach me valour by the strength of wine;
Naming that courage which was only fury:
It was not wilfully.
Moth. I do not rech
One bean for all. This buss is a blive guerdon.[235]
Hence carlishnesse yferre. 'Tis a sooth saw,
Had I but venged all mine herme,
Mine cloak had not been furred half so werme.
Enter Officers with Andrew, Priscilla, and the four that were taken at the window singing.
Cre. Now, sir, you shall hear all. Come, Andrew, tell me,
How cam'st thou hither?
And. Truly, Master Meanwell
Told me that I should meet with Mistress Jane;
And there I found her chambermaid!
Cre. D' y' see?
Your chambermaid, Sir Thomas! Out, you whore.
And. Take heed what you say, father; she's my wife.
Cre. I would thou'rt in thy grave, then; 'twere the better
Fortune o' th' two.
Pris. Indeed, this reverend man join'd us i' th' prison.
Chris. Marriage is a bond;
So no place fitter to perform it in!
Sir T. Send for my daughter hither; we'll know all.
What are you, sir?
Chris. A workman in the clergy.
Con. Yes, this is one I took at the window singing,
With these three other vagrant fellows here.
Chris. I was in body there, but not in mind,
So that my sin is but inchoately perfect;
And I, though in a fault, did not offend;
And that for three reasons. First, I did yield
Only a kind of unwilling consent.
Secondly, I was drawn, as 'twere, by their
Impulsive gentleness (mark, sir, I'm strong).
Thirdly, I deem'd it not a woman's shambles.
Fourthly and lastly, that I sung was only
An holy wish. Once more, beloved—
Sir T. Peace!
Y' have said enough already. How came you
To sing beneath the window?
Rime. Master Hearsay
Told us that Master Meanwell was new-married,
And thought it good that we should gratify him.
And show ourselves to him in a Fescennine.[236]
Cre. That rascal Meanwell was the cause of all:
I would I had him here.
Sir T. Why, this is he,
Sir Robert Littleworth his son: he hath
Disclos'd their villanies; he is no cheat.
Mean. God save you, Master Credulous; you have
Forgotten me, perhaps: I'm somewhat chang'd.
You see, your lost man's found; your vagabond
Appears at last.
Cre. Go, you are a gibing scab.
Leave off your flouting: you're a beardless boy,
I am a father of children.
Mean. And your son
Will be so shortly, if he han't ill-luck
To vex you more: that hundred pounds you sent
To Master Caster, Shape i' th' habit of
A country-fellow gull'd you of.
Cre. That rascal!
Thou show'st thy wit t' abuse an old man thus:
As God shall mend me, I will hamper thee.
Thou'st been disguis'd here all this while, thou hast!
Would I were bray'd in mine own mortar,[237] if
I do not call th' in question the next term,
For counterfeiting of the king's subjects.
Come away from him, sirrah, come along.
[Exeunt Credulous, Andrew, and Priscilla.
Mean. There's a trunk they've left behind; I have
Seiz'd it for you, so that you'll be no loser.
Sir T. If you can find a way whereby I may
Reward this courtesy of yours, I shall
Confess myself engaged doubly to you—
Both for the benefit and its requital.
Enter Jane.
Mean. The appearance of your daughter here suggests
Something to ask, which yet my thoughts call boldness.
Sir T. Can she suggest yet any good, that is
So expert grown in this flesh-brokery?
Mean. O, do not blot that innocence with suspicion,
Who never came so near a blemish yet,
As to be accus'd. To quit you of such thoughts,
I did receive a tempting letter from
That strumpet that's gone out (as sin is bold
To try, even where no hope is); I made promise,
But to secure myself, and withal sound
Th' affections of young Credulous unto
Your virtuous daughter, told him he should meet her,
Where I agreed to meet your chambermaid:
The blame must all be mine.
Sir T. 'Tis her deliverance.
She hath escap'd two plagues, a lustful fool.
Mean. I dare not challenge her, I do confess,
As a reward due to my service; and
If you deny her me, assure yourself
I'll never draw her from obedience.
I will not love her to procure her ruin,
And make m' affection prove her enemy.
Sir T. You speak most honestly: I never did
Think ill of your intents, but always gave
A testimony to your life as large
As were your merits. But your fortunes are
Unequal; there's the want.
Mean. What's there defective
Love shall supply. True, Master Credulous
Is a rich man, but yet wants that which makes
His riches useful, free discretion.
He may be something in th' eye o' th' world;
But let a knowing man, that can distinguish
Between possessions and good parts, but view him,
And prize impartially, he will be rated
Only as chests and caskets, just according
To what he holds. I value him as I
Would an exchequer or a magazine.
He is not virtuous, but well-stor'd: a thing
Rather well-victuall'd than well-qualified;
And if you please to cast your eye on me,
Some moneys will call back my father's lands
Out of his lime-twig fingers, and I shall
Come forth as gay as he.
Sir T. I'll strive no longer,
For fear I seem t' oppose felicity.
If she'll give her consent, y' are one.
Jane. It is
The voice of angels to me. I had thought
Nothing in all the store of nature could
Have added to that love wherewith I do
Reverence that name, my father, till that you
Spoke this.
Sir T. I know your former loves: grow up
Into an aged pair, yet still seem young.
May you stand fresh, as in your pictures, still,
And only have the reverence of the aged.
I thank you for your pains, Master Constable:
You may dismiss your watch now.
Shape. [Disguised as a Constable.] A pox on't!
That, after all this, ne'er a man to carry
To prison! Must poor tradesmen be brought out,
And nobody clapp'd up?
Mean. That you mayn't want
Employment, friends, take this, I pray, and drink it.
Slicer. [Disguised.] Sir, when y' are cheated next, we are your servants.
[Exeunt all but Shape, Hearsay, and Slicer.
SCENE V.
Shape, Slicer, Hearsay.
Shape. Lie thou there, watchman. How the knave that's look'd for
May often lurk under the officer!
Invention, I applaud thee.
Hear. London air,
Methinks, begins to be too hot for us.
Slicer. There is no longer tarrying here: let's swear
Fidelity to one another, and
So resolve for New England.[238]
Hear. 'Tis but getting
A little pigeon-hole reformed ruff——
Slicer. Forcing our beards into th' orthodox bent——
Shape. Nosing a little treason 'gainst the king,
Bark something at the bishops, and we shall
Be easily receiv'd.
Hear. No fitter place.
They are good silly people; souls that will
Be cheated without trouble. One eye is
Put out with zeal, th' other with ignorance;
And yet they think they're eagles.
Shape. We are made
Just fit for that meridian. No good work's
Allow'd there: faith—faith is that they call for,
And we will bring it 'em.
Slicer. What language speak they?
Hear. English, and now and then a root or two
Of Hebrew, which we'll learn of some Dutch skipper
That goes along with us this voyage. Now
We want but a good wind; the brethren's sighs
Must fill our sails; for what Old England won't
Afford, New England will. You shall hear of us
By the next ship that comes for proselytes.
Each soil is not the good man's country only;
Nor is the lot his to be still at home:
We'll claim a share, and prove that nature gave
This boon, as to the good, so to the knave. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[226] Adultery.
[227] See Note to "The Antiquary" [act iv., vol. 13].
[228] [i.e., All fours.]
[229] Change.
[230] Plenty, abundance.
[231] The story here alluded to is told in an old play, entitled "The Famous Chronicle of King Edward the first, sir-named Edward Longshankes, with his returne from the holy land. Also the life of Llevellen rebell in Wales. Lastly, the sinking of Queene Elinor, who sunck at Charing cross, and rose againe at Potters hith, now named Queene-hith. By George Peele." 4o, 1593, 1599. See also a ballad on the same subject in Evans's "Old Ballads," vol i. p. 237. [Peele's play is, of course, printed in his works by Dyce.]
[232] [The Constable's ideas had become confused, and he thought that Credulous, was taxing him with having been circumcised.]
[233] Take hold of him.—T.
[234] Decorated or adorned [in the forehead or brow.] So in Milton's "Penseroso"—
"Not trick'd and frounc'd as she was wont,
With Attic boy to hunt;
But kerchief'd in a comely cloud."
—Steevens (altered).
[235] Quick reward. [But it may be doubted, perhaps, if Cartwright did not intend blithe, i.e., glad or joyful.]
[236] i.e., A nuptial ditty: from Fescennia, or Fescennium, a town in Italy, where these kinds of songs were first practised.—Steevens.
[237] To bray, to pound, or grind small—
"I'll burst him, I will bray
His bones, as in a mortar."
"Except you would bray christendom in a mortar, and mould it into a new paste, there is no possibility of a holy war."—Bacon. See Johnson's Dictionary, v. Bray.
It also means only to stamp with the feet: thus in Fortescue's "Foreste of Histories," 1571, fol. 68: "When Apelles his horse was brought into the place the other began to braie and stirre, as is their common usage."—Collier.
[238] This is intended to ridicule the Puritans of the times, who, on account of the severe censures of the Star Chamber, the greatness of the fines there, the rigorous proceedings to impose ceremonies, the suspending and silencing ministers for not reading in church "The Book of Sports," and other grievances, sold their estates, and settled in New England. The emigrations, on these accounts, at length became so general, that a proclamation was put forth in 1635 to stop those who had determined to follow their friends. It is remarkable that amongst those who were actually on shipboard, and prevented by the proclamation from proceeding on their voyage, were the patriot Hampden and his cousin Oliver Cromwell.
[THE EPILOGUE]
Shape. We have escap'd the law, but yet do fear
Something that's harder answered—your sharp ear.
O, for a present sleight now to beguile
That, and deceive you but of one good smile.
'Tis that must free us: th' Author dares not look
For that good fortune, to be sav'd by's book.
To leave this blessed soil is no great woe;
Our griefs in leaving you, that make it so;
For if you shall call in those beams you lent,
'Twould ev'n at home create a banishment.
[THE LONDON CHANTICLEERS.]
EDITION.
The London Chaunticleers. A Witty Comoedy, full of Various and Delightfull Mirth. Often Acted with Great applause, and never before Published. London, Printed for Simon Miller, at the Star in St. Pauls Churchyard. 1659. 4o.
This amusing and peculiar play has never hitherto been re-published from the original edition. It is a performance, as the title-page partly intimates, considerably older than the date of publication. Mr Halliwell ("Dictionary of Old Plays," 1860, p. 144) observes: "This piece is rather an interlude than a play; but it is curious, the characters being London criers.
"From a passage in the prologue we may perhaps infer that the production originally appeared during a visitation of the plague at London, and that it was first presented (the machinery required being simple enough) on some suburban or provincial stage. The metropolis was ravaged by pestilence in 1636, which is a not unlikely date for the composition and original presentation of 'The London Chanticleers.'"
The allusions to old usages, with the mention of many well-known ballads, and of some known no longer, contribute to give the present piece an interest and value of its own.