The Puritan Widow

by Shakespeare

SCENE V. A room in the Marshalsea prison.

[Enter in the Prison, meeting, George and Captain, George coming in muffled.]

CAPTAIN.
How now, who’s that? what are you?

PYE.
The same that I should be, Captain.

CAPTAIN. George Pye-board, honest George? why camst thou in half fac’d, muffled so?

PYE. Oh, Captain, I thought we should ne’er ha laught again, never spent frolick hour again.

CAPTAIN.
Why? why?

PYE.
I coming to prepare thee, and with news
As happy as thy quick delivery,
Was trac’d out by the sent, arrested, Captain.

CAPTAIN.
Arrested, George!

PYE. Arrested: gesse, gesse; how many Dogs do you think I’d upon me?

CAPTAIN.
Dogs? I say? I know not.

PYE.
Almost as many as George Stone the Bear:
Three at once, three at once.

CAPTAIN.
How didst thou shake ’em off, then?

PYE.
The time is busy, and calls upon out wits.
Let it suffice,
Here I stand safe, and scapt by miracle.
Some other hour shall tell thee, when we’ll steep
Our eyes in laughter. Captain, my device
Leans to thy happiness, for ere the day
Be spent toth’ Girdle, thou shalt be set free.
The Corporal’s in his first sleep, the Chain is missed,
Thy Kinsman has exprest thee, and the old Knight
With Palsey-hams now labours thy release:
What rests is all in thee, to Conjure, Captain.

CAPTAIN. Conjure! sfoot, George, you know the devil a conjuring I can conjure.

PYE.
The Devil of conjuring? Nay, by my fay, I’d not have thee
do so much, Captain, as the Devil a conjuring: look here,
I ha brought thee a circle ready charactered and all.

CAPTAIN. Sfoot, George, art in thy right wits? doost know what thou sayest? why doost talk to a Captain of conjuring? didst thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life? doost cal’t a Circle? tis too wide a thing, me thinks: had it been a lesser Circle, then I knew what to have done.

PYE.
Why, every fool knows that, Captain: nay, then, I’ll not
cog with you, Captain; if you’ll stay and hang the next
Sessions, you may.

CAPTAIN. No, by my faith, George: come, come, let’s to conjuring, let’s to conjuring.

PYE. But if you look to be released—as my wits have took pain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it— besides to put crowns in your purse, to make you a man of better hopes, and whereas before you were a Captain or poor Soldier, to make you now a Commander of rich fools, (which is truly the only best purchase peace can allow you) safer then High-ways, Heath, or Cunny-groves, and yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are never hangd, never hangd, for, why, they’re wise, and cheat within doors: and we geld fools of more money in one night, then your false tailed Gelding will purchase in a twelve-month’s running; which confirms the old Beldam saying, he’s wisest, that keeps himself warmest; that is, he that robs by a good fire—

CAPTAIN. Well opened, yfaith, George; thou has pulled that saying out of the husk.

PYE.
Captain Idle, tis no time now to delude or delay: the old
Knight will be here suddenly. I’ll perfect you, direct
you, tell you the trick on’t: tis nothing.

CAPTAIN. Sfoot, George, I know not what to say toot: conjure? I shall be hand ere I conjure.

PYE. Nay, tell not me of that, Captain; you’ll ne’er conjure after you’re hangd, I warrant you. Look you, sir, a parlous matter, sure! First, to spread your circle upon the ground, then, with a little conjuring ceremony, as I’ll have an Hackney-man’s wand silvered ore a purpose for you,—then arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a great trample, as for instance:—have you never seen a stalking- stamping Player, that will raise a tempest with his tongue, and thunder with his heels?

CAPTAIN.
O yes, yes, yes: often, often.

PYE. Why, be like such a one, for any thing will blear the old Knight’s eyes: for you must note that he’ll ne’er dare to venture into the room, only perhaps peep fearfully through the Key hold, to see how the Play goes forward.

CAPTAIN. Well, I may go about it when I will, but mark the end ont: I shall but shame my self, ifaith, George. Speak big words, and stamp and stare, and he look in at Key-hold! why, the very thought of that would make me laugh out-right, and spoil all: nay, I’ll tell thee, George, when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative laughter, that if the Devil him-self stood by, I should laugh in his face.

PYE. Puh, that’s but the babe of a man, and may easily be husht; as to think upon some disaster, some sad misfortune, as the death of thy Father ithe Country!

CAPTAIN. Sfoot, that would be the more to drive me into such an extasy, that I should ne’er lin laughing.

PYE.
Why, then, think upon going to hanging else.

CAPTAIN. Mass, that’s well remembred; now I’ll do well, I warrant thee, ne’er fear me now: but how shall I do, George, for boisterous words, and horrible names?

PYE.
Puh, any fustian invocations, Captain, will serve as well
as the best, so you rant them out well; or you may go to a
Pothecaries shop, and take all the words from the Boxes.

CAPTAIN. Troth, and you say true, George; there’s strange words enow to raise a hundred Quack-salvers, tho they be ne’er so poor when they begin. But here lies the fear on’t, how if in this false conjuration, a true Devil should pop up indeed?

PYE. A true Devil, Captain? why there was ne’er such a one: nay, faith, he that has this place is as false a Knave as our last Church-warden.

CAPTAIN.
Then he’s false enough a conscience, ifaith, George.

[The Crie at Marshalsea.]

CRIE PRISONERS.
Good Gentlemen over the way, send your relief. Good
Gentlemen over the way,—Good sir Godfrey!

PYE.
He’s come, he’s come.

NICHOLAS. Master, that’s my Kinsman yonder in the Buff-jerkin—Kinsman, that’s my Master yonder ith’ Taffetie Hat—pray salute him entirely!

[They salute: and Pye-board salutes Master Edmond.]

SIR GODFREY.
Now, my friend.

PYE.
May I pertake your name, sir?

EDMOND.
My name is Master Edmond.

PYE.
Master Edmond?—are you not a Welshman, sir?

EDMOND.
A Welshman? why?

PYE. Because Master is your Christian name, and Edmond your sir name.

EDMOND. O no; I have more names at home: Master Edmond Plus is my full name at length.

PYE.
O, cry you mercy, sir. [Whispering]

CAPTAIN. I understand that you are my Kinsman’s good Master, and in regard of that, the best of my skill is at your service: but had you fortuned a mere stranger, and made no means to me by acquaintance, I should have utterly denied to have been the man; both by reason of the act past in Parliament against Conjurers and Witches, as also, because I would not have my Art vulgar, trite, and common.

SIR GODFREY. I much commend your care therein, good Captain Conjurer, and that I will be sure to have it private enough, you shall doot in my Sister’s house,—mine own house, I may call it, for both our charges therein are proportioned.

CAPTAIN.
Very good, sir—what may I call your loss, sir?

SIR GODFREY. O you may call’t a great loss, sir, a grievous loss, sir; as goodly a Chain of gold, tho I say it, that wore it: how sayest thou, Nicholas?

NICHOLAS.
O ’twas as delicious a Chain a Gold! Kinsman, you know,—

SIR GODFREY.
You know? did you know’t, Captain?

CAPTAIN. Trust a fool with secrets!—Sir, he may say I know: his meaning is, because my Art is such, that by it I may gather a knowledge of all things.

SIR GODFREY.
Aye, very true.

CAPTAIN. A pax of all fools—the excuse struck upon my tongue like Ship-pitch upon a Mariner’s gown, not to come off in haste— Ber-lady, Knight, to loose such a fair Chain a gold were a foul loss. Well, I can put you in this good comfort on’t: if it be between Heaven and Earth, Knight, I’ll ha’t for you.

SIR GODFREY.
A wonderful Conjurer!—O, aye, tis between heaven and earth,
I warrant you; it cannot go out of the realm.—I know tis
some-where above the earth.

CAPTAIN.
Aye, nigher the earth then thou wotst on.

SIR GODFREY. For, first, my Chain was rich, and no rich thing shall enter into heaven, you know.

NICHOLAS. And as for the Devil, Master, he has no need on’t, for you know he ha’s a great chain of his own.

SIR GODFREY. Thou sayest true, Nicholas, but he has put off that now; that lies by him.

CAPTAIN. Faith, Knight, in few words, I presume so much upon the power of my Art; that I could warrant your Chain again.

SIR GODFREY.
O dainty Captain!

CAPTAIN. Marry, it will cost me much sweat; I were better go to sixteen whot-houses.

SIR GODFREY.
Aye, good man, I warrant thee.

CAPTAIN.
Beside great vexation of Kidney and Liver.

NICHOLAS. O, twill tickle you here-abouts, Coozen, because you have not been used toot.

SIR GODFREY.
No? have you not been used too’t, Captain?

CAPTAIN. Plague of all fools still!—Indeed, Knight, I have not used it a good while, and therefore twill strain me so much the more, you know.

SIR GODFREY.
Oh, it will, it will.

CAPTAIN. What plunges he puts me to! were not this Knight a fool, I had been twice spoiled now; that Captain’s worse than accurst that has an ass to his Kinsman. Sfoot, I fear he will drivell’t out before I come toot.—Now, sir—to come to the point in deed—you see I stick here in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and cannot doo’t.

SIR GODFREY. Tut, tut, I know thy meaning; thou wouldst say thou’rt a prisoner. I tell thee thou’rt none.

CAPTAIN.
How none? why, is not this the Marshallsea?

SIR GODFREY.
Woult hear me speak? I hard of thy rare conjuring;
My chain was lost; I sweat for thy release,
As thou shalt do the like at home for me.
Keeper.

[Enter Keeper.]

KEEPER.
Sir.

SIR GODFREY.
Speak, is not this man free?

KEEPER.
Yes, at his pleasure, sir, the fee’s discharged.

SIR GODFREY.
Go, go, I’ll discharge them I.

KEEPER.
I thank your worship.

[Exit Keeper.]

CAPTAIN. Now, trust me, yar a dear Knight. Kindness unexpected! oh, there’s nothing to a free Gentle man.—I will conjure for you, sir, till Froth come through my Buff-jerkin!

SIR GODFREY, Nay, then thou shalt not pass with so little a bounty, for at the first sight of my chain again, Forty fine Angells shall appear unto thee.

CAPTAIN. Twil be a glorious show, ifaith, Knight, a very fine show; but are all these of your own house? are you sure of that, sir?

SIR GODFREY.
Aye, aye—no, no, what’s he yonder, talking with my wild
Nephew? pray heaven, he give him good counsel.

CAPTAIN.
Who, he? he’s a rare friend of mine, an admirable fellow,
Knight, the finest fortune-teller.

SIR GODFREY. Oh, tis he indeed that came to my Lady sister, and foretold the loss of my chain. I am not angry with him now, for I see twas my fortune to loose it.—By your leave, Master Fortune-teller, I had a glimpse on you at home at my Sisters the Widdows, there you prophesied of the loss of a chain:—simply tho I stand here, I was he that lost it.

PYE.
Was it you, sir?

EDMOND. A my troth, Nuckle, he’s the rarest fellow: has told me my fortune so right; I find it so right to my nature.

SIR GODFREY.
What ist? God send it a good one!

EDMOND. O, tis a passing good one, Nuncle: for he says I shall prove such an excellent gamester in my time, that I shall spend all faster then my father got it.

SIR GODFREY.
There’s a fortune, in deed!

EDMOND.
Nay, it hits my humour so pat.

SIR GODFREY. Aye, that will be the end ont: will the Curse of the beggar prevail so much, that the son shall consume that foolishly, which the father got craftily? Aye, aye, aye; twill, twill, twill.

PYE.
Stay, stay, stay.

[Pye-board with an Almanack and the Captain.]

CAPTAIN.
Turn over, George.

PYE. June—July: here, July; that’s this month. Sunday thirteen, yester day forteen, to day fifteen.

CAPTAIN. Look quickly for the fifteen day:—if within the compass of these two days there would be some Boystrous storm or other, it would be the best, I’d defer him off till then: some tempest, and it be thy will.

PYE.
Here’s the fifteen day—hot and fair.

CAPTAIN.
Puh, would t’ad been hot and foul.

PYE. The sixteen day; that’s to morrow: the morning for the most part fair and pleasant—

CAPTAIN.
No luck.

PYE.
But about high-noon, lightning and thunder.

CAPTAIN. Lightning and thunder! admirable, best of all: I’ll conjure to morrow just at high noon, George.

PYE. Happen but true to morrow, Almanack, and I’ll give thee leave to lie all the year after.

CAPTAIN. Sir, I must crave your patience, to bestow this day upon me, that I may furnish my self strongly. I sent a spirit into Lancashire tother day, to fetch back a knave Drover, and I look for his return this evening. To morrow morning my friend here and I will come and break-fast with you.

SIR GODFREY.
Oh, you shall be both most welcome.

CAPTAIN.
And about Noon, without fail, I purpose to conjure.

SIR GODFREY.
Mid noon will be a fine time for you.

EDMOND. Conjuring! do you mean to conjure at our house to morrow, sir?

CAPTAIN.
Marry, do I, sir: tis my intent, young Gentleman.

EDMOND.
By my troth, I’ll love you while I live fort. O rare,
Nicholas, we shall have conjuring to morrow.

NICHOLAS.
Puh! Aye, I could ha told you of that.

CAPTAIN. Law, he could ha told him of that! fool, cockscomb, could ye?

EDMOND. Do you hear me, sir? I desire more acquaintance on you: you shall earn some money of me, now I know you can conjure; but can you fetch any that is lost?

CAPTAIN.
Oh, any thing that’s lost.

EDMOND. Why, look you, sir, I tel’t you as a friend and a Conjurer, I should marry a Poticaries daughter, and twas told me she lost her maidenhead at Stonie-stratford; now if you’ll do but so much as conjure fort, and make all whole again—

CAPTAIN.
That I will, sir.

EDMOND.
By my troth, I thanks you, la.

CAPTAIN.
A little merry with your sister’s son, sir.

SIR GODFREY. Oh, a simple young man, very simple: come, Captain, and you, sir, we’ll e’en part with a gallon of wine till to morrow break-fast.

PYE AND CAPTAIN.
Troth, agreed, sir.

NICHOLAS.
Kinsman—Scholar?

PYE.
Why, now thou art a good Knave, worth a hundred Brownists.

NICHOLAS.
Am I indeed, la? I thank you truly, la.

[Exeunt.]