ACT V., SCENE I.
Enter GRIM, with JOAN.
GRIM. Nay, but, Joan, have a care! bear a brain[475] for all at once. 'Tis not one hour's pleasure that I suspect more than your mother's good, countenance. If she be asleep, we may be bold under correction; if she be awake, I may go my ways, and nobody ask me, Grim, whither goest thou? Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that not the worst dog in the street will hurt my little finger.
JOAN. Why speak you this? You need not fear my mother,
For she was fast asleep four hours ago.
GRIM. Is she, sure? Did you hear her snort in her dead sleep? Why then,
Joan, I have an hour's mirth for thee.
JOAN. And I a mess of cream for thee.
GRIM. Why, there is one for another then: fetch it, Joan; we will eat and kiss, and be as merry as your cricket. [Exit JOAN for the cream.] Art thou gone for it? Well, go thy ways for the kindest lass that ever poor collier met withal? I mean for to make short work with her, and marry her presently. I'll single her out, i'faith, till I make her bear double, and give the world to understand we will have a young Grim between us.
Enter JOAN with the cream.
JOAN. Look here, my love, 'tis sweeten'd for thy mouth.
GRIM. You have put none of your love-powder in it, to make me enamourable of you, have you, Joan? I have a simple pate, to expect you! [One knocketh at the door.] Joan, hark, my brains beat, my head works, and my mind giveth me: some lovers of yours come sneaking hither now; I like it not, 'tis suspectious.
[One knocketh again.
JOAN. You need not fear it; for there is none alive
Shall bear the least part of my heart from thee.
GRIM. Say'st thou so? hold there still, and whoe'er he be, open door to him.
She openeth the door. Enter SHORTHOSE, and ROBIN after him.
JOAN. What, Master Parson, are you come so late?
You are welcome; here's none but Grim and I.
SHO. Joan, I'll no more a-nutting go,
I was so beaten to and fro;
And yet who it was, I do not know.
GRIM. What, Master Parson, are you come so late to say eveningsong to your parishioners? I have heard of your knavery. I give you a fair warning; touch her no lower than her girdle, and no higher than her chin: I keep her lips and her hips for my own use. I do; and so welcome.
ROBIN. This two hours have I dogg'd the parson round about all Croydon, doubting some such thing. [Aside.]
SHO. No, Grim, I here forswear to touch
Thy Joan, or any other such:
Love hath been so cudgell'd out of me,
I'll go no more to wood with thee.
ROB. 'Twas Robin beat this holy mind into him.
I think more cudgelling would make him more honest. [Aside.]
GRIM. You speak like an honest man and a good parson, and that is more.
Here's Joan's benevolation for us, a mess of cream and so forth. Here is
your place, Master Parson. Stand on the t'other side of the table, Joan.
Eat hard to-night, that thou may marry us the better to-morrow.
ROB. What, is my brother Grim so good a fellow.
[They fall to the cream.
I love a mess of cream as well as they;
I think it were best I stepp'd in and made one. [Aside.]
Ho, ho, ho,[476] my masters! No good fellowship!
Is Robin Goodfellow a bugbear grown,
[ROBIN falleth to eat.
That he is not worthy to be bid sit down?
GRIM. O Lord, save us! sure, he is some country-devil; he hath got a russet coat upon his face.
[GRIM and SHORTHOSE retire to the back of the stage.]
SHO. Now, benedicite! who is this?
I take him for some fiend, i-wis;[477]
O, for some holy-water here
Of this same place this spirit to clear!
ROB. Nay, fear not, Grim, come fall unto your cream:
Tut, I am thy friend; why dost not come and eat?
GRIM. I, sir? truly, master devil, I am well here, I thank you.
ROB. I'll have thee come, I say. Why, tremblest thou?
GRIM. No, sir, not I; 'tis a palsy I have still. Truly, sir, I have no great acquaintance with you.
ROB. Thou shalt have better, man, ere I depart.
GRIM. I will not, and if I can choose.
ROB. Nay, come away, and bring your love with you.
GRIM. Joan! you were best go to him, Joan.
ROB. What, shall I fetch thee, man? The cream is sweet.
GRIM. No, sir, I am coming: much good do't you. I had need of a long spoon, now I go to eat with the devil.[478]
ROB. The parson's penance shall be thus to fast.
Come, tell me, Grim, dost thou not know me, man?
GRIM. No, truly, sir; I am a poor man fetcheth my living out of the fire; your worship may be a gentleman devil, for aught I know.
ROB. Some men call me Robin Goodfellow.
GRIM. O Lord, sir! Master Robert Goodfellow, you are very welcome, sir.
ROB. This half year have I liv'd about this town,
Helping poor servants to despatch their work,
To brew and bake, and other husbandry.
Tut, fear not, maid; if Grim be merry,
I will make up the match between ye.
GRIM. There will be a match in the devil's name!
ROB. Well, now the night is almost spent,
Since your affections all are bent
To marriage and to constant love,
Grim, Robin doth thy choice approve;
And there's the priest shall marry you:
Go to it, and make no more ado:
Sirrah, sir priest, go get you gone,
And join both her and him anon;
But ne'er hereafter let me take you
With wanton love-tricks, lest I make you
Example to all stone-priests ever,
To deal with other men's loves never.
SHO. Valete vos, and God bless me,
And rid me from his company!
Come, Grim, I'll join you hand in hand,
In sacred wedlock's holy band.
I will no more a-nutting go,
That journey caused all this woe.
GRIM. Come, let's to hand in hand quickly. Master Robert, you were ever one of the honestest merry devils that ever I saw.
JOAN. Sweet Grim, and if thou lovest me, let's away.
GRIM. Nay, now, Joan, I spy a hole in your coat: if you cannot endure the devil, you'll never love the collier. Why, we two are sworn brothers. You shall see me talk with him even as familiarly as if I should parbreak[479] my mind and my whole stomach upon thee.
JOAN. I prythee, do not, Grim.
GRIM. Who? not I? O Lord, Master Robert Goodfellow, I have a poor cottage at home, whither Joan and I will jog us merrily. We will make you no stranger, if you come thither. You shall be used as devilishly as you would wish, i'faith. There is never a time my cart cometh from London, but the collier bringeth a goose in his sack, and that, with the giblets thereof, is at your service.
ROB. This is more kindness, Grim, than I expected.
GRIM. Nay, sir, if you come home, you shall find it true, I warrant you. All my whole family shall be at your devilship's pleasure, except my poor Joan here, and she is my own proper nightgear.
ROB. Gramercies, but away in haste;
The night is almost spent and pass'd.
GRIM. God be with you, sir; I'll make as much haste about it as may be; for, and that were once done, I would begin a new piece of work with you, Joan.
[Exeunt all but ROBIN.
ROB. Now joy betide this merry morn,
And keep Grim's forehead from the horn:
For Robin bids his last adieu
To Grim and all the rest of you.
[Exit ROBIN.
Enter CLINTON alone.
CLIN. Bright Lucifer, go couch thee in the clouds,
And let this morning prove as dark as night!
That I unseen may bring to happy end
The doctor's murder, which I do intend.
'Tis early yet: he is not so soon stirring.
But stir he ne'er so soon, so soon he dies.
I'll walk along before the palace gate;
Then shall I know how near it is to-day,
He shall have no means to escape away.
[Exit CLINTON.
Enter CASTILIANO.
CAS. My trunk's broke open, and my jewels gone!
My gold and treasure stol'n: my house despoil'd
Of all my furniture, and nothing left?
No, not my wife, for she is stol'n away:
But she hath pepper'd me, I feel it work—
My teeth are loosen'd, and my belly swell'd;
My entrails burn with such distemper'd heat,
That well I know my dame hath poison'd me:
When she spoke fairest, then she did this act.
When I have spoken all I can imagine,
I cannot utter half that she intends;
She makes as little poisoning of a man,
As to carouse; I feel that this is true.
Enter CLINTON.
Nay, now I know too much of womankind.
'Zounds, here's the captain: what should he make here
With his sword drawn? there's yet more villany.
CLIN. The morning is far spent; but yet he comes not.
I wonder Marian sends him not abroad.
Well, doctor, linger time, and linger life;
For long thou shalt not breathe upon the earth.
CAS. No, no, I will not live amongst ye long:
Is it for me thou wait'st, thou bloody wretch?
Her poison hath prevented thee in murther.
Enter EARL MORGAN, ST DUNSTAN with HONOREA
fainting, and MARIAN.
Now here be they suppose Earl Lacy dead.
See how this lady grieveth for that she wisheth.
DUN. My Lord of London, by his sudden death,
And all the signs before his late departure,
'Tis very probable that he is poison'd.
MAR. Do you but doubt it? credit me, my lord,
I heard him say that drink should be his last:
I heard my husband speak it, and he did it.
CAS. There is my old friend, she always speaks for me.
O shameless creature, was't not thy device?
MOR. Let not extremity of grief o'erwhelm thee,
My dearest Honorea; for his death shall be
Surely reveng'd with all severity
Upon the doctor, and that suddenly.
CLIN. What fortune's this, that all these come this way
To hinder me, and save thy life to-day?
HON. My gracious lord, this doleful accident
Hath robb'd me of my joy: and, royal earl,
Though in thy life thou didst suspect my love,
My grief and tears suspicions shall remove.
MAR. Madam, to you and to your father's love
I owe as much and more than my own life.
Had I ten husbands should agree to do it,
My gracious lord, you presently should know it.
CAS. Ay, there's a girl! think you I did not well,
To live with such a wife, to come from hell.
MAR. Look, look, my lord, there stands the murderer!
CAS. How am I round beset on every side!
First, that same captain here stands to kill me;
My dame she hath already poisoned me;
Earl Morgan he doth threaten present death;
The Countess Honorea, in revenge
Of Lacy, is extremely incens'd 'gainst me.
All threaten—none shall do it; for my date
Is now expired, and I must back to hell.
And now, my servant, wheresoe'er thou be,
Come quickly, Akercock, and follow me.
Lordings, adieu, and my curs'd wife, farewell,
If me ye seek, come follow me to hell.
[The ground opens, and they both fall[480] down into it.
MOR. The earth that opened now is clos'd again.
DUN. It is God's judgment for his grievous sins.
CLIN. Was there a quagmire, that he sank so soon?
HON. O miracle! now may we justly say,
Heavens have reveng'd my husband's death this day.
MOR. Alas, poor Marian! we have wrong'd thee much
To cause thee match thyself to any such.
MAR. Nay, let him go, and sink into the ground;
For such as he are better lost than found.
Now, Honorea, we are freed from blame,
And both enrich'd with happy widow's name[481].
Enter EARL LACY, with FORREST and MUSGRAVE.
LACY. O, lead me quickly to that mourning train,
Which weep for me, who am reviv'd again.
HON. Marian, I shed some tears of perfect grief.
[She falleth into a swoon.
MOR. Do not my eyes deceive me? liveth my son?
LACY. My lord and father, both alive and well,
Recover'd of my weakness. Where's my wife?
MAR. Here is my lady, your beloved wife,
Half dead to hear of your untimely end.
LACY. Look on me, Honorea; see thy lord:
I am not dead, but live to love thee still.
DUN. 'Tis God disposeth all things, as he will:
He raiseth those the wicked wish to fall.
CLIN. 'Zounds, I still watch on this enclosed ground;
For if he rise again, I'll murder him.
HON. My lord, my tongue's not able to report
Those joys my heart conceives to see thee live.
DUN. Give God the glory: he recovered thee,
And wrought this judgment on that cursed man,
That set debate and strife among ye all.
MOR. My lord, our eyes have seen a miracle,
Which after ages ever shall admire.
The Spanish doctor, standing here before us,
Is sunk into the bowels of the earth,
Ending his vile life by a viler death.
LACY. But, gentle Marian, I bewail thy loss,
That wert maid, wife, and widow, all so soon.
MAR. 'Tis your recovery that joys me more,
Than grief can touch me for the doctor's death.
He never lov'd me whilst he liv'd with me,
Therefore the less I mourn his tragedy.
MOR. Henceforth we'll strictlier look to strangers' lives,
How they shall marry any English wives.
Now all men shall record this fatal day;
Lacy revived, the doctor sunk in clay.
[The trumpets sound, exeunt omnes nisi DUNSTAN.
DUN. Now is Earl Lacy's house fill'd full of joy,
He and his lady wholly reconcil'd,
Their jars all ended: those, that were like men
Transformed, turn'd unto their shapes again.
And, gentlemen, before we make an end,
A little longer yet your patience lend,
That in your friendly censures you may see
What the infernal synod do decree;
And after judge, if we deserve to name
This play of ours, The devil and his dame.
[Exit.
It thunders and lightneth. Enter PLUTO, MINOS,
AEACUS, RHADAMANTHUS, with Fury bringing in
MALBECCO'S Ghost.
PLU. Minos, is this the day he should return,
And bring us tidings of his twelvemonth spent!
Enter BELPHEGOR, like a devil, with horns
on his head, and AKERCOCK.
MIN. It is, great king, and here Belphegor comes.
PLU. His visage is more ghastly than 'twas wont.
What ornaments are those upon his head?
BEL. Hell, I salute thee! now I feel myself
Rid of a thousand torments. O vile earth,
Worse for us devils than hell itself for men!
Dread Pluto, hear thy subject's just complaint
[BELPHEGOR kneeleth to PLUTO.
Proceeding from the anguish of my soul.
O, never send me more into the earth!
For there dwells dread and horror more than here.
PLU. Stand forth, Belphegor, and report the truth
Of all things have betide thee in the world.
BEL. When first, great king, I came into the earth,
I chose a wife both young and beautiful,
The only daughter to a noble earl;
But when the night came that I should her bed,
I found another laid there in her stead:
And in the morning when I found the change,
Though I denied her, I was forc'd to take her.
With her I liv'd in such a mild estate,
Us'd her still kindly, lov'd her tenderly;
Which she requited with such light regard,
So loose demeanour, and dishonest life,
That she was each man's whore, that was my wife.
No hours but gallants flock'd unto my house,
Such as she fancied for her loathsome lust,
With whom, before my face, she did not spare
To play the strumpet. Yea, and more than this,
She made my house a stew for all resorts,
Herself a bawd to others' filthiness:
Which, if I once began but to reprove,
O, then, her tongue was worse than all the rest!
No ears with patience would endure to hear her,
Nor would she ever cease, till I submit[ted]:
And then she'd speak me fair, but wish me dead.
A hundred drifts she laid to cut me off,
Still drawing me to dangers of my life.
And now, my twelvemonth being near expir'd,
She poison'd me; and least that means should fail,
She entic'd a captain to've murdered me.
In brief, whatever tongue can tell of ill,
All that may well be spoken of my dame.
AKER. Poor Akercock was fain to fly her sight,
For never an hour but she laid on me;
Her tongue and fist walked all so nimbly.
PLU. Doth then, Belphegor, this report of thine
Against all women hold in general?
BEL. Not so, great prince: for, as 'mongst other creatures,
Under that sex are mingled good and bad.
There are some women virtuous, chaste, and true;
And to all those the devil will give their due.
But, O, my dame, born for a scourge[482] to man!
For no mortality [I] would endure that,
Which she a thousand times hath offered me.
PLU. But what new shapes are those upon thy head?
BEL. These are the ancient arms of cuckoldry,
And these my dame hath kindly left to me;
For which Belphegor shall be here derided,
Unless your great infernal majesty
Do solemnly proclaim, no devil shall scorn
Hereafter still to wear the goodly horn.
PLU. This for thy service I will grant thee freely:
All devils shall, as thou dost, like horns wear,
And none shall scorn Belphegor's arms to bear.
And now, Malbecco, hear thy latest doom.
Since that thy first reports are justified
By after-proofs, and women's looseness known,
One plague more will I send upon the earth!
Thou shalt assume a light and fiery shape,
And so for ever live within the world;
Dive into women's thoughts, into men's hearts;
Raise up false rumours and suspicious fears;
Put strange inventions into each man's mind;
And for these actions they shall always call thee
By no name else but fearful Jealousy.
Go, Jealousy, begone; thou hast thy charge;
Go, range about the world that is so large.
And now, for joy Belphegor is return'd,
The furies shall their tortures cast away,
And all hell o'er we'll make it holiday.
[It thundereth and lightneth. Exeunt omnes.