FOOTNOTES:
[1] Refuse me, or God refuse me, appears to have been among the fashionable modes of swearing in our author's time. So in "The White Devil," act i. sc. 1, Flamineo says, God refuse me. Again, in "A Dogge of Warre," by Taylor the Water-poet, Works, 1630, p. 229—
"Some like Dominicall Letters goe,
In scarlet from the top to toe,
Whose valours talke and smoake all;
Who make (God sink 'em) their discourse
Refuse, Renounce, or Dam that's worse:
I wish a halter choake all."
Again, in "The Gamester," by Shirley, Wilding says, "Refuse me, if I did."
[2] Not is omitted in the 4o.—Collier.
[3] See [Randolph's Works, by Hazlitt, p. 179.]
[4] See note to "The Heir," [vol. xi. 535.]
[5] Standing unseen for the present.—Collier.
[6] The 4o reads Look, look upon, and ready, &c.—Collier.
[7] A proverb or wise saying. So in "The Wife of Bath's Prologue," l. 6240—
"But all for nought, I sette not an hawe
Of his Proverbes, ne of his olde sawe."
[8] Distrained. So in "Thomas, Lord Cromwell," 1602—
"His furniture fully worth half so much,
Which being all strain'd for the king,
He frankly gave it to the Antwerp merchants."
[9] The 4o reads four pence and ninepence. This play, in the former editions, is very incorrectly printed.
[10] So in Massinger's "Maid of Honour," act iv. sc. 5, Sylli says, "The King ... break girdle, break!" Again, Falstaff says, in the "First Part of King Henry IV."—
"Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father?
Nay, an' if I do, let my girdle break."
To explain the phrase "may my girdle break," it should be remembered that the purse was anciently worn hanging at the girdle. Hence the propriety of Trincalo's complaint, that while Ronca embraced him his "purse shook dangerously." See "Albumazar," act iii. sc. 7 [xi. 368].
[11] The 4o reads Oculies, Oculies.—Collier.
[12] [Six-shilling beer, a stronger kind than that previously described as four-shilling.]
[13] Look, he'll steal nothing to feast his bawds, is the reading of the old copy.—Collier.
[14] Highway.
[15] These interjections probably mean to express that Alexander hiccups in the course of what he says.—Collier.
[16] [In allusion to Alexander.]
[17] [A tavern so called.]
[18] The aversion of the Puritans to a surplice is alluded to in many of the old comedies. See several instances in Mr Steevens's note to "All's Well that Ends Well," act i. sc. 3.
[19] [Two footpads, who seem to have frequented the purlieus of Coomb Park. Sham military men were as common at that time as now.]
[20] The park belonging to Coomb House.
[21] But two quavers make one crotchet: this seems to be false wit, having no foundation in truth.—Pegge.
[22] Highwaymen or robbers were formerly called Saint Nicholas' clerks. See notes by Bishop Warburton and Mr Steevens on the "First Part of King Henry IV.," act ii. sc. 1.
So in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1616: "The theefe that commits the robery, and is chiefe clarke to Saint Nicholas, is called the high lawyer."
And in "Looke on me London," 1613, sig. C: "Here closely lie Saint Nicholas Clearkes, that, with a good northerne gelding, will gaine more by a halter, than an honest yeoman with a teame of good horses."
[23] This ancient fabric, which is now destroyed, was the seat of the Nevils, Earls of Warwick. It stood about a mile from Kingston-upon-Thames, near Wolsey's Aqueducts, which convey water to Hampton Court.—Steevens.
[24] A cutter was, about the beginning of the last century, a cant word for a swaggering fellow. This appears in the old black-letter play entitled "The Faire Maid of Bristow," sig. A iij., where Sir Godfrey says of Challener—
"He was a cutter and a swaggerer."
He is elsewhere (sig. A 4) called a swaggering fellow.—MS. note in Oldys's Langbaine.
[25] [Old copy, rise. The meaning seems to be that Randall had got up betimes.]
[26] i.e., Alexander Bloodhound.—Pegge.
[27] i.e., The reply of drawers when they are called.
[28] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 247-8.]
[29] It was formerly usual to celebrate Christmas, at the several inns of court, with extraordinary festivity. Sometimes plays or masques were performed; and when these were omitted, a greater degree of licence appears to have been allowed to the students than at other times. In societies where so many young men, possessed of high spirits, and abounding with superfluous sums of money, were assembled, it will not seem wonderful to find the liberty granted at this season should be productive of many irregularities. Among others, gaming, in the reign of James I., when this play was probably written, had been carried to such an extravagant height as to demand the interposition of the heads of some of the societies to prevent the evil consequences attending it. In the 12th of James I. orders for reformation and better government of the inns of court and Chancery were made by the readers and benchers of the four houses of court; among which is the following:—"For that disorders in the Christmas-time, may both infect the minds, and prejudice the estates and fortunes, of the young gentlemen in the same societies: it is therefore ordered, that there shall be commons of the house kept, in every house of court, during the Christmas; and that none shall play in their several halls at the dice, except he be a gentleman of the same society, and in commons; and the benefits of the boxes to go to the butlers of every house respectively."—Dugdale's "Orig. Jurid.," p. 318. In the 4th of Car. I. (Nov. 17) the society of Gray's Inn direct, "that all playing at dice, cards, or otherwise, in the hall, buttry, or butler's chamber, should be thenceforth barred and forbidden, at all times of the year, the twenty days in Christmas only excepted."—Ibid. p. 286. And in the 7th of Car. I. (7th Nov.) the society of the Inner Temple made several regulations for keeping good rule in Christmas-time, two of which will show how much gaming had been practised there before that time. "8. That there shall not be any knocking with boxes, or calling aloud for gamesters. 9. That no play be continued within the house upon any Saturday night, or upon Christmas-eve at night, after twelve of the clock."
Sir Simon D'Ewes also, in the MS. life of himself in the British Museum, takes notice of the Christmas irregularities about this period (p. 52, Dec. 1620)—"At the saied Temple was a lieutenant chosen, and much gaming, and other excesses increased during these festivall dayes, by his residing and keeping a standing table ther; and, when sometimes I turned in thither to behold ther sportes, and saw the many oaths, execrations, and quarrels, that accompanied ther dicing, I began seriously to loath it, though at the time I conceived the sporte of itselfe to bee lawfull."—["Life of D'Ewes," edit. 1845, i. 161.] "The first day of Januarie [i.e., 1622-23] at night, I came into commons at the Temple, wheere ther was a lieftenant choosen, and all manner of gaming and vanitie practiced, as if the church had not at all groaned under those heavie desolations which it did. Wherefore I was verie gladd, when, on the Tuesday following, being the seventh day of the same moneth, the howse broake upp ther Christmas, and added an end to those excesses."—[Life, ut supr., i. 223.]
To what excess gaming was carried on in the inns-of-court at this period may be judged from the following circumstance, that in taking up the floor of one of the Temple halls about 1764, near one hundred pair of dice were found, which had dropt at times through the chinks or joints of the boards. They were very small, scarce more than two-thirds as large as our modern ones. The hall was built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. [See on this subject "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," i., where copious collections will be found upon this subject.]
[30] This tavern, with the same sign as above described, [existed till 1787. See Gifford's Ben Jonson, 1816, ix. 84-5.]
[31] This question is improperly given to Sim in the 4o.—Collier.
[32] [See Dyce's Middleton, iii. 97, and v. 208.]
[33] [A line of an old song altered.]
[34] This is the reading of the quarto, but Mr Reed, without necessity or notice, changed it thus—
"A qualm of threescore pounds a year came over his stomach."
Sim refers to the age and infirmity of Bloodhound.—Collier.
[35] All that follows, to the entrance of Moll, in the 4o is made a continuation of what is said by Bloodhound.—Collier.
[ACT II., SCENE I.]
A table set out. Enter two servants, Jarvis and John, as to cover it for dinner.
John. Is my mistress ready for dinner?
Jar. Yes, if dinner be ready for my mistress.
John. Half an hour ago, man.
Jar. But, prythee, sir, is't for certain? for yet it cannot sink into my head that she is to be married to-morrow.
John. Troth, she makes little preparation; but it may be, she would be wedded, as she would be bedded, privately.
Jar. Bedded, call you it? and she be bedded no better than he'll bed her, she may lie tantalised, and eat wishes.
John. Pox on him! they say he's the arrantest miser: we shall never live a good day with him.
Jar. Well, and she be snipped by threescore and ten, may she live six score and eleven, and repent twelve times a day—that's once an hour. [Exit.
Enter Widow.
Wid. Set meat o' th' board.
John. Yes.
Wid. Why does your fellow grumble so?
John. I do not know. They say you're to marry one that will feed us with horse-plums instead of beef and cabbage.
Wid. And are you grieved at that?
John. No, but my friends are.
Wid. What friends are grieved?
John. My guts.
Wid. So, it seems, you begun clown——
John. Yes, and shall conclude coxcomb, and I be fed with herring-bones. 'Sfoot, I say no more; but if we do want as much bread of our daily allowance as would dine a sparrow, or as much drink as would fox a fly,[36] I know what I know.
Wid. And what do you know, sir?
John. Why, that there goes but a pair of shears[37] between a promoter and a knave; if you know more, take your choice of either.
Wid. 'Tis well; set on dinner.
Enter Jarvis with a rabbit in one hand and a dish of eggs in another, and the Maid.
Jar. O mistress, yonder's the mad gallant, Master Alexander Bloodhound, entered into the hall.
Wid. You should have kept him out.
Maid. Alas! ne'er a wench in town could do't, he's so nimble: I had no sooner opened the door, but he thrust in ere I was aware.
Enter Alexander.
Alex. And how does my little, handsome, dainty, delicate, well-favoured, straight and comely, delicious, bewitching widow?
Jar. 'Sfoot, here's one runs division before the fiddlers.
Wid. Sir, this is no seasonable time of visit.
Alex. 'Tis pudding-time, wench, pudding-time; and a dainty time, dinner-time, my nimble-eyed, witty one. Woot be married to-morrow, sirrah? [Sits to table.
Jar. She'll be mad to-morrow, sirrah.
Alex. What, art thou a fortune-teller?
Jar. A chip of the same block—a fool, sir.
Alex. Good fool, give me a cup of cool beer.
Jar. Fill your master a cup of cool beer.
Alex. Pish! I spoke to the fool.
Jar. I thought you'd brought the fool with you, sir.
Alex. Fool, 'tis my man: shalt sit, i' faith, wench.
Wid. For once I'll be as merry as you are mad, and learn fashions. I am set, you see, sir; but you must pardon, sir, our rudeness—Friday's fare for myself, a dish of eggs and a rabbit; I looked for no strange faces.
Alex. Strange: mine's a good face, i' faith; prythee, buss.
Jar. Why, here's one comes to the business now.
Alex. Sirrah, woot have the old fellow?
Wid. Your father? Yes.
Alex. I tell thee thou shalt not; no, no; I have such [38]—this rabbit's raw too.
Jar. There's but one raw bit, sir.
Alex. Thy jester, sure, shall have a coat.[39]
Wid. Let it be of your own cut, sir.
Alex. Nay, nay, nay; two to one is extremity—but, as I was telling thee, I have such a husband for thee: so knowing, so discreet, so sprightly—fill a cup of claret—so admirable in desires, so excellently deserving, that an old man—fie, fie, prythee. Here's to thee.
Wid. The man's mad, sure.
Jar. Mad! by this hand, a witty gallant.
John. Prythee, peace, shalt hear a song.
Enter Ancient Young.
Wid. What cope's-mate's[40] this, trow? who let him in?
Jar. By this light, a fellow of an excellent breeding.
He came unbidden, and brought his stool with him.
John. Look, mistress, how they stare one at another.
Jar. Yes, and swell like a couple of gibbed cats[41] met both by chance i' th' dark in an old garret.
Wid. Look, look; now there's no fear of the wild beasts: they have forgot their spleens, and look prettily; they fall to their pasture. I thought they had been angry, and they are hungry.
Jar. Are they none of Duke Humphrey's[42] furies? Do you think that they devised this plot in Paul's to get a dinner?
Wid. Time may produce as strange a truth. Let's note them.
Enter Randall.
Ran. Hur loved hur once: hur loved hur no more,
Saint Tavie, so well as hur loved hur then.
Wid. Another burr! this is the cookmaid's leaving ope the door; and this is the daintiest dish she has sent in—a widgeon in Welsh sauce! Pray, let's make a merry day on't.
Ran. What! do hur keep open house? Had heard hur was widows that dwelt here: are you widows, good womans?
Wid. I want a husband, sir.[43]
Ran. Augh, Randalls comes in very good times: you keep ordinaries, hur think. What, have you set a cat before gallants there?
Jar. They will eat him for the second course. [Aside.] These are suitors to my mistress sure—things that she slights. Set your feet boldly in; widows are not caught as maids kiss—faintly, but as mastiffs fight—valiantly.
Ran. Is hur so: I pray pid hur mistress observe Randalls for valours and prave adventures?
Anc. Some beer.
Wid. Let them want nothing.
Anc. Here, widow.
Wid. I thank you, sir.
Alex. Some wine.
Jar. Here is wine for you, sir.
Ran. Randalls will not be outpraved, I warrant hur.
Alex. Here, widow.
Wid. I thank you too, sir.
Ran. Sounds, some metheglins here.
Wid. What does he call for?
Jar. Here are some eggs for you, sir.
Ran. Eggs, man! some metheglins, the wine of Wales.
Jar. Troth, sir, here's none i' th' house: pray, make a virtue of necessity, and drink to her in this glass of claret.
Ran. Well, because hur will make a great deals of necessities of virtues, mark, with what a grace Randalls will drink to hur mistress.
Maid. He makes at you, forsooth.
Wid. Let him come, I have ever an English virtue to put by a Welsh.
Ran. O noble widows, hur heart was full of woes.
Alex. No, noble Welshman, hur heart was in hur hose. [Takes away his cup.
Ran. Sounds, was that hur manners, to take away Randall's cups?
Anc. No, it showed scurvy.
Alex. Take't you at worst, then.
Anc. Whelp of the devil, thou shalt see thy sire[44] for't.
John, Jar. Gentlemen, what mean you?
Ran. Let hur come, let hur come; Randalls will redeem reputations, hur warrant hur.
Wid. Redeem your wit, sir. First for you, sir, you are a stranger; but you—fie, Master Bloodhound!
Anc. Ha! Bloodhound! good sir, let me speak with you.
Ran. Sounds, what does Randalls amongst ploodhounds? Good widows, lend hur an ear.
Alex. Ancient Young! how false our memories have played through long discontinuance![45] But why met here, man? Is Mars so bad a paymaster that our ancients fight under Cupid's banner?
Anc. Faith, this was but a sudden start, begotten from distraction of some fortunes: I pursue this widow but for want of wiser work.
Jar. The Welshman labours at it. [Aside.
Ran. A pair of a hundred of seeps, thirty prave cows, and twelve dozen of runts.
Wid. Twelve dozen of goose!
Ran. Give hur but another hark!
Alex. He has the mortgage still, and I have a handsome sister: do but meet at the Fountain in Fleet Street after dinner; O, I will read thee a history of happiness, and thou shalt thank me.
Anc. Ay, read, all's well or weapons.
Alex. A word, Jarvis. [Whispers him.
Ran. O prave widows, hur will meet hur there, hur knows hur times and hur seasons, hur warrant hur. Randalls will make these prave gallants hang hurselfs in those garters of willow-garlands apout hur pates; mark hur now, and remember. [Exit.
Anc. Adieu, sweet widow; for my ordinary—— [Kisses her.
Wid. 'Twas not so much worth, sir.
Anc. You mean, 'twas worth more then; and that's another handsomely begged. [Kisses her again.
Wid. You conclude women cunning beggars, then.
Anc. Yes, and men good benefactors. My best wishes wait on so sweet a mistress. Will you walk? [Exit Ancient.
Alex. I'll follow you. Woot think on't soon at night, or not at all? [Aside to Jarvis.
Jar. I would not have my wishes wronged; if I should bring it about handsomely, you can be honest. [Aside.
Alex. Can [I]? dost conclude me a satin cheat? [Aside.
Jar. No, a smooth gallant, sir. Do not you fail to be here soon at nine, still provided you will be honest: if I convey you not under her bed, throw me a top o' th' tester, and lay me out o' th' way like a rusty bilbo. [Aside.
Alex. Enough; drink that. [Aside, giving him money.] Farewell, widow; Fate, the Destinies, and the three ill-favoured Sisters have concluded the means, and when I am thy husband——
Wid. I shall be your wife.
Alex. Do but remember these cross capers then, ye bitter-sweet one.[46] [Exit.
Wid. Till then adieu, you bitter-sweet one. [Exit.
Jar. This dinner would have showed better in bed-lane; and she at the other side holdeth her whole nest of suitors [at] play. What art decks the dark labyrinth of a woman's heart! [Exit.
Enter Mary Bloodhound and Sim.
Moll. Marry old Ear-lack! is my father mad?
Sim. They're both a-concluding on't yonder; to-morrow's the day; one wedding-dinner must serve both marriages.
Moll. O Sim! the Ancient, the delicate Ancient; there's a man, and thou talk'st of a man; a good face, a sparkling eye, a straight body, a delicate hand, a clean leg and foot. Ah, sweet Sim! there's a man worth a maidenhead.
Enter Bloodhound and Ear-lack.
Sim. But I say, Master Ear-lack, the old man! a foot like a bear, a leg like a bed-staff, a hand like a hatchet, an eye like a pig, and a face like a winter peony;[47] there's a man for a maidenhead.
Moll. O look, look! O, alas! what shall I do with him?
Sim. What? why, what shall fifteen do with sixty and twelve? make a screen of him; stand next the fire, whilst you sit behind him and keep a friend's lips warm. Many a wench would be glad of such a fortune.
Blood. Your oath struck it dead then, o' my side?
Ear. Five hundred deep of your side, i' faith, father.
Blood. Moll, come hither, Moll; I hope Sim has discovered the project.
Ear. And to-morrow must be the day, Moll; both of a day: one dinner shall serve. We may have store of little ones; we must save for our family.
Moll. Good sir, what rashness was parent to this madness? marry an old man—Ear-lack the informer!
Blood. Madness! You're a whore.
Ear. Is she a whore, Sim?
Sim. She must be your wife, I tell——-
Blood. An arrant whore, to refuse Master Innocent Ear-lack of Rogue-land!—that for his dwelling: next, that he doth inform now and then against enormities, and hath been blanketed—it may be, pumped in's time; yet the world knows he does it not out of need: he's of mighty means, but takes delight now and then to trot up and down to avoid idleness, you whore.
Sim. Good sir!
Ear. Pray, father!
Moll. This wound wants oil. Good sir, in all my paths
I will make you my guide; I was only startled
With the suddenness of the marriage,
In that I knew that this deserving gentleman
And I had never so much conference,
Whereby this coal of Paphos—by the rhetoric
Of his love-stealing, heart-captivating language—
Might be blown into a flame.
Ear. Does she take tobacco, father?
Blood. No, no, man; these are out of ballads; she has all the Garland of Good-will[48] by heart.
Ear. Snails, she may sing me asleep o' nights then, Sim.
Sim. Why, right, sir; and then 'tis but tickling you o' th' forehead with her heels, you are awake again, and ne'er the worse man.
Moll. Is he but five years older than yourself, sir?
Ear. Nay, I want a week and three days of that too.
Blood. I'll tell thee an old saw for't, girl—
Old say he be, old blades are best,
Young hearts are never old.
Ear. Ha, ha!
Blood.
Gold is great glee, gold begets rest,
What fault is found in gold?
Sim. I will answer presently, sir, with another saw.
Blood. Let's ha't, let's ha't.
Ear. Mark, Moll.
Sim.
Young? say she be young, young mutton's sweet,
Content is above gold;
If, like an old cock, he with young mutton meet,
He feeds like a cuckold.
Blood. A very pretty pithy one, I protest; look, an' Moll do not laugh: shalt have a pair of gloves for that. What leather dost love?
Sim. Calf, sir; sheep's too simple for me.
Blood. Nay, 'tis a witty notable knave; he should never serve me else.
Enter John with a letter.
John. My mistress remembers her love, and requests you would inure her so much to your patience as to read that.
Blood. Love-letters, love-lies: dost mark, Sim; these women are violent, Sim. Whilst I read the lie,[49] do you rail to him upon the brewer: swear he has deceived us, and save a cup of beer by't.
Sim. I will not save you a cup at that rate, sir.
Ear. I can make thee a hundred a year jointure, wench. At the first, indeed, I began with petty businesses, wench; and here I picked, and there I picked; but now I run through none but things of value.
Moll. Sir, many thoughts trouble me; and your words carry such weight, that I will choose a time, when I have nothing else to do, to think on 'em.
Ear. By my troth, she talks the wittiliest, an' I would understand her.
Blood. O nimble, nimble widow! I am sorry we have no better friends; [To John] but pray, commend me, though in a blunt, dry commendation; at the time and place appointed I wonnot fail. I know she has a nest of suitors, and would carry it close, because she fears surprisal. [Exit John.
Ear. What news, father?
Blood. Shalt lie there all night, son.
Ear. Was that the first news I heard on't?
Blood. I must meet a friend i' th' dark soon: let me see, we lovers are all a little mad; do you and Moll take a turn or two i' th' garden, whilst Sim and I go up into the garret and devise till the guests come. [Exit.
Sim. He's a little mad. I had best hang him upon the cross-beam in the garret. [Exit.
Ear. Come, Moll, come, Malkin:[50] we'll even to the camomile bed, and talk of household stuff; and be sure thou rememberest a trade.
Moll. Please you go before, sir.
Ear. Nay, an old ape has an old eye; I shall go before, an' thou woot show me a love-trick, and lock me into the garden. I will come discreetly behind, Moll.
Moll. Out upon him, what a suitor have I got! I am sorry you're so bad an archer, sir.
Ear. Why, bird, why, bird?
Moll. Why, to shoot at butts, when you should use prick-shafts: short shooting will lose you the game, I assure you, sir.
Ear. Her mind runs, sure, upon a fletcher[51] or a bowyer: howsoever, I'll inform against both; the fletcher, for taking whole money for pierced arrows: the bowyer, for horning the headmen of his parish, and taking money for his pains. [Exeunt.
Enter in the tavern, Alexander, the Captain, Lieutenant, Sue Shortheels, and Mistress Coote, a bawd.
Alex. Some rich canary, boy.
Drawer. Anon, anon, sir.
Alex. [Is't] possible? Thus cheated of a hundred
Pieces? A handsome halter, and the hangman's
Wages popp'd in the place! What an acute wit
We have in wickedness!
Capt. 'Tis done, and handsomely.
Enter Drawer.
Drawer. Here's a pottle of rich canary and a quart of neat claret, gentlemen; and there's a gentleman below, he says he is your brother, Master Bloodhound: he appointed to meet you here.
Capt. The expected thing, that bought the Bristow stone.
Alex. Send him up, prythee. Remember how it must be carried.
Mis. Coote. I am her grandmother; forget not that, by any means.
Alex. And pray remember that you do not mump, as if you were chewing bacon, and spoil all.
Mis. Coote. I warrant you.
Enter Ancient Young.
Alex. And hark.
Drawer. Are these the company, sir?
Anc. Yes, but those I like not; these are not they: I'll stay i' th' next room till my company come.
Drawer. Where you please, sir; pray follow me. [Exeunt.
Capt. I hear him coming up gingerly.
Alex. O, he tramples upon the bosom of a tavern with that dexterity, as your lawyers' clerks do to Westminster Hall upon a dirty day with a pair of white silk stockings.
Enter Tim.
Brother Tim, why, now you're a man of your word, I see.
Tim. Nay, I love to be as good as my say. See, brother, look, there's the rest of your money upon the ring. I cannot spend a penny, for I have ne'er a penny left. What are these? what are these?
Alex. Gallants of note and quality; he that sits taking tobacco is a captain, Captain Carvegut.
Tim. He will not make a capon of me, will he?
Alex. Are you not my brother? He that pours out the sparkling sprightly claret is a lieutenant under him, Lieutenant Bottom. He was a serjeant first.
Tim. Of the Poultry or of Wood Street?
Alex. Of the Poultry?[52] of a woodcock! A serjeant in the field, a man of blood.
Tim. I'll take my leave, brother, I am in great haste.
Alex. That delicate, sweet young gentlewoman——
Tim. Foh! this tobacco!
Alex. That bears the blush of morning on her cheeks,
Whose eyes are like a pair of talking twins.
Tim. She looks just upon me.
Alex. I think you are in haste.
Tim. No, no, no, pray.
Alex. Whose lips are beds of roses, betwixt which
There steals a breath sweeter than Indian spices.
Tim. Sweeter than ginger!
Alex. But then to touch those lips you stay too long, sure?
Tim. Pish, I tell you I do not; I know my time. Pray, what's her name?
Alex. But 'tis descended from the ancient stem,
[O'] the great Trebatio,[53] Lindabride's her name;
That ancient matron is her reverend grannum.
Tim. Niggers, I have read of her in the Mirror of Knighthood.[54]
Alex. Come, they shall know you.
Tim. Nay, brother.
Alex. I say they shall.
Tim. Let me go down and wash my face first.
Alex. Your face is a fine face. My brother, gentlemen.
Capt. Sir, you're victoriously welcome.
Tim. That word has e'en conquered me.
Lieut. I desire to kiss your hand, sir.
Tim. Indeed, but you shall not, sir: I went out early, and forgot to wash them.
Mis. Coote. Precious dotterel! [Aside.
Capt. Sir, I shall call it a courtesy if you shall please to vouchsafe to pledge me.
Tim. What is't, brother? Four or six?[55]
Capt. Four or six! 'tis rich Canary: it came from beyond the seas.
Tim. I will do no courtesy at this time, sir; yet for one cup I care not, because it comes from beyond the seas. I think 'tis outlandish wine.
Sue. Look how it glides!
Mis. Coote. Now, truly, the gentleman drinks as like one Master Widgeon, a kinsman of mine——
Lieut. Pox on you! heildom![56]
Tim. I ha' heard of that Widgeon, I ha' been taken for him; and now I think on't, a cup of this is better than our four-shilling beer at home.
Lieut. You must drink another, sir: you drank to nobody.
Tim. Is it the law that, if a man drinks to nobody, he must drink again?
Omnes. Ay, ay, ay. Fill his glass.
Tim. Why, then, I will drink to nobody once more, because I will drink again.
Alex. Did not I tell you? More wine there, drawer.
Sue. This pageant's worth the seeing, by this hand.
Tim. Methinks this glass was better that t'other, gentlemen.
Capt. O sir, the deeper the sweeter ever.
Tim. Do you think so?
Lieut. Ever that when ye drink to nobody.
Tim. Why, then, I pray give me t'other cup, that I may drink to somebody.
Mis. Coote. I have not drunk yet, sir.
Alex. Again, ye witch! Drink to the young gentlewoman.
Tim. Mistress Lindabrides.
Sue. Thanks, most ingenious sir.
Tim. She's a little shame-faced. The deeper the sweeter, forsooth.
Alex. Pox on you for a coxcomb!
Enter Ancient Young [standing aside].
Anc. I' th' next room I have seen and heard all. O noble soldiers!
Tim. Here, boys, give us some more wine. There's a hundred marks, gallants; 'tis your own, an' do but let me bear an office amongst ye. I know as great a matter has been done for as small a sum. Pray let me follow the fashion.
Capt. Well, for once take up the money. Give me a cup of sack, and give me your hand, sir; and, because our Flemish corporal was lately choked at Delft with a flap-dragon,[57] bear you his name and place, and be henceforth called Corporal Cods-head. Let the health go round!
Tim. Round! An' this go not round!—Some wine there, tapster. Is there ne'er a tapster i' th' house? [Ancient shows himself.
Alex. My worthy friend, thou'rt master of thy word. Gentlemen, 'tis Ancient Young; you're soldiers; come, come, save cap: compliment in cup. Prythee, sit down.
Anc. Are you a captain, sir?
Capt. Yes.
Anc. And you a lieutenant?
Lieut. Yes.
Anc. I pray, where served you last?
Capt. Why, at the battle of Prague.[58]
Anc. Under what colonel? In what regiment?
Capt. Why, let me see—but come, in company? Let's sit, sir. True soldiers scorn unnecessary discourse, especially in taverns.
Anc. 'Tis true, true soldiers do: but you are tavern-rats.
Capt. How?
Alex. Prythee!
Anc. Foul food, that lies all day undigested
Upon the queasy stomach of some tavern,
And are spew'd out at midnight.
Tim. Corporal Cods-head's health, sir.
Anc. In thy face, fool. [Tim retires.
Alex. This is cruel, Ancient.
Anc. You are but
The worms of worth, the sons of shame and baseness,
That in a tavern dare outsit the sun,
And, rather than a whore shall part unpledg'd,
You'll pawn your souls for a superfluous cup,
Though ye cast it into the reckoning.
The true soldier, who is all o'er, a history of man,
Noble and valiant; wisdom is the mould
In which he casts his actions. Such a discreet temperance
Doth daily deck his doings, that by his modesty
He's guess'd the son of merit, and by his mildness
Is believed valiant. Go, and build no more
These airy castles of hatched fame, which fools
Only admire and fear you for: the wise man
Derides and jeers you as puffs. [Be] really of[59]
Virtue and valour, those fair twins,
That are born, breathe, and die together: then
You'll no more be called butterflies, but men:
Think on't, and pay your reckoning. [Exit.
Capt. Shall we suffer this, Saunder?
Alex. I must go after him.
Sue. Kill him, an' there be no more men in Christendom.
Alex. I know my sister loves him, and he swears he loves her; and, by this hand, it shall go hard if he have her not, smock and all. Brave, excellent man! With what a strength of zeal we admire that goodness in another which we cannot call our own! [Exit.
Lieut. He's a dead man, I warrant him.
Capt. But where's our corporal? Corporal, corporal!
Tim. Well, here's your corporal, an' you can be quiet. [Looks out.[60]
Sue. Look, an' he have not ensconced[61] himself in a wooden castle.
Tim. Is he gone that called us butterflies?
Mis. Coote. Yes, yes; h' has taken wing; and your brother's gone after him, to fight with him.
Tim. That's well; he cannot in conscience but do us the courtesy to kill him for us. Come, gallants, what shall we do? I'll never go home to go to bed with my guts full of four-shillings beer, when I may replenish them with sack. Ha! now am I as lusty! Methinks we two have blue beards. Is there ne'er a wench to be had? Drawer, bring us up impossibilities, an honest whore and a conscionable reckoning.
Lieut. Why, here's all fire-wit, whe'r[62] he will or no.
Sue. A whore! O tempting, handsome sir! think of a rich wife rather.
Tim. Tempting, handsome sir! She's not married, is she, gentlemen?
Capt. A woodcock springed! Let us but keep him in this bacchanalian mist till morning, and 'tis done. [Aside.
Tim. Tempting, handsome sir! I've known a woman of handsome, tempting fortunes throw herself away upon a handsome, tempting sir.
Lieut. Hark you, sir: if she had, and could be tempted to't, have you a mind to marry? Would you marry her?
Tim. O, and a man were so worthy, tempting sir.
Lieut. Give me but a piece from you.
Tim. And when will you give it me again?
Lieut. Pray, give me but a piece from you. I'll pay this reckoning into the bargain; and if I have not a trick to make it your own, I'll give you ten for't—here's my witness.
Tim. There 'tis; send thee good luck with't, and go drunk to bed.
Lieut. Do not you be too rash, for she observes you, and is infinitely affected to good breeding.
Tim. I wonnot speak, I tell you, till you hold up your finger or fall a-whistling.
Capt. Come, we'll pay at bar, and to the Mitre in Bread Street;[63] we'll make a mad night on't. Please you, sweet ladies, but to walk into Bread Street; this gentleman has [had] a foolish slight supper, and he most ingeniously professes it would appear to him the meridian altitude of his desired happiness but to have the table decked with a pair of perfections so exquisitely refulgent.
Tim. He talks all sack, and he will drink no small beer.
Mis. Coote. Pray lead, and we[64] shall follow.
Sue. Bless mine eyes! my heart is full of changes. [Exit.
Tim. O, is it so? I have heard there may be more changes in a woman's heart in an hour than can be rung upon six bells in seven days. Well, go thy ways: little dost thou think how thou shalt be betrayed. Within this four-and-twenty hours thou shalt be mine own wife, flesh and blood, by father and mother, O tempting, handsome sir! [Exeunt.