ACT IV., SCENE I.
Enter Vandal and Frisco.
Van. Where be you, Master Frisco.
Fris. Here, sir, here, sir. Now if I could cozen him. [Aside.
Take heed, sir, here's a post.
Van. Ic be so groterly hot, dat ic swet. O, when sal we come dere.
Fris. Be you so hot, sir? let me carry your cloak; I assure you it will ease you much.
Van. Dere, here, dere, 'tis so dark I can neit see.
Fris. Ay, so, so. Now you may travel in your hose and doublet. Now look I as like the Dutchman as if I were spit out of his mouth.[523] I'll straight home, and speak groot and brood, and toot and gibberish; and in the dark I'll have a fling at the wenches. Well, I say no more. Farewell, Master Mendal, I must go seek my fortune. [Exit Frisco.
Van. Mester Frisco, Mester Frisco! what sal you no speak I make you de fool? Why, Mester Frisco! O de skellum, he be ga met de cloak! me sal seg his mester. Ha! Mester Frisco, waer seed-e Mester Frisco? [Exit Vandal.
Enter Harvey, Heigham, and Walgrave.
Har. Goes the case so well, Signer Bottle-nose?
It may be we shall overreach your drift.
This is the time the wenches sent us word
Our bombast Dutchman and his mates will come.
Well, neat Italian, you must don my shape:
Play your part well, or I may 'haps pay you.
What, speechless, Ned? faith, whereon musest thou?
'Tis on your French corrival, for my life.
He comes et vostre, and so forth,
Till he hath foisted in a brat or two.
How then, how then?
Wal. Nay, I'll geld him first,
Ere that infestious losel revel there.
Well, Mat, I think thou know'st what Ned can do:
Shouldst thou change Ned for Noddy, me for him,
Thou didst not know thy loss, i' faith thou didst not.
Heigh. Come, leave this idle chat, and let provide
Which of us shall be scarecrow to these fools,
And set them out the way?
Wal. Why, that will I.
Har. Then put a sword into a madman's hand.
Thou art so hasty that, but cross thy humour,
And thou'lt be ready cross them o'er the pates:
Therefore, for this time, I'll supply the room.
Heigh. And so we shall be sure of chat enough.
You'll hold them with your flouts and gulls so long,
That all the night will scarcely be enough
To put in practice what we have devised:
Come, come, I'll be the man shall do the deed.
Har. Well, I am content to save your longing.
But soft, where are we? Ha! here's the house.
Come, let us take our stands: Frank, stand you there,
And Ned and I will cross [to] t'other side.
Heigh. Do so; but hush! I hear one passing hither.
Enter Alvaro.
Alv. O de favourable aspect of de heaven! 'tis so obscure, so dark, so black, dat no mortal creature can know me: I pray a Dio I sal have de right wench. Ah si, I be recht: here be de huis of Signer Pisaro; I sal have de Madonna Marina, and darvor I sal knock to de door. [He knocks.
Heigh. What a pox! are you mad or drunk?
What do you mean to break my glasses?[524]
Alv. Wat be dar glasses? What drunk? what mad?
Heigh. What glasses, sir? why, my glasses: and if you be so crank, I'll call the constable. You will not enter into a man's house, I hope, in spite of him?
Har. Nor durst you be so bold as to stand there,
If once the master of the house did know it.
Alv. Is dis your house? be you de signor of dis casa?
Heigh. Signor me no signors, nor casa me no casas: but get you hence, or you are like to taste of the bastinado.
Har. Do, do, good Ferdinand; pummell the loggerhead.
Alv. Is this neit the house of Mester Pisaro?
Heigh. Yes, marry, when? can you tell? how do you? I thank you heartily, my finger in your mouth.
Alv. What be dat?
Heigh. Marry, that you are an ass and a loggerhead, to seek Master Pisaro's house here.
Alv. I pray de gratia, what be dis plashe? What do ye call dis street?
Heigh. What, sir? why, Leadenhall. Could you not see the four spouts as you came along?
Alv. Certamente, Leadenhall, I hit my head by de way; der may be do voer spouts. I pray de gratia, wish be de way to Croche Friars?
Heigh. How, to Crutched Friars? Marry, you must go along till you come to the pump, and then turn on your right hand.
Alv. Signor, a Dio. [Exit Alvaro.
Heigh. Farewell, and be hang'd, signor!
Now, for your fellow, if the ass would come.
Enter Delion.
Del. By my trot, me do so mush tinck of dit gentlewoman, de fine wensh, dat me tinck esh hour ten day, and esh day ten years, till I come to her. Here be de huis of sin vader, sal aller and knock. [He knocks.
Heigh. What a bots ails you, are you mad?
Will you run over me, and break my glasses?
Del. Glasses! wat glasses? Pray, is Monsieur Pisaro to de maison?
Har. Hark, Ned, there's thy substance. [Aside.
Wal. Nay, by the mass, the substance is here,
The shadow's but an ass. [Aside.
Heigh. What Master Pisaro?
Loggerhead! here is none of your Pisaros?
Del. Yes, but dit is de huis of Mester Pisaro.
Wal. Will not this Monsieur Motley[525] take his answer? I'll go and knock the ass about the pate.
Har. Nay, by your leave, sir, but I'll hold your worship.
This stir we should have had, had you stood there.
Wal. Why, would it not vex one to hear the ass
Stand prating here of dit and dan, and den and dog?
Har. One of thy mettle, Ned, would surely do it.
But peace, and hark to the rest.
Del. Do no de fine gentlewoman Maitresse Mathe dwell in this plashe?
Heigh. No, sir; here dwells none of your fine gentlewomen: 'twere a good deed, sirrah, to see who you are. You come hither to steal my glasses, and then counterfeit you are going to your quean's.
Del. I be deceve dis dark night. Here be no wensh, I be no in de right plashe. I pray, monsieur, wat be name dis street, and wish be de way to Croche Friars?
Heigh. Marry, this is Fenchurch Street, and the best way to Crutched Friars is to follow your nose.
Del. Vanshe Street! How shance me come to Vanshe Street? Vel, monsieur, we must aller to Croche Friars. [Exit Delion.
Wal. Farewell, fortypence,[526] go seek you, signor. I hope you'll find yourselves two dolts anon. Hush, Ferdinand, I hear the last come stamping hither.
Enter Frisco.
Fris. Ha! sirrah, I have left my fat Dutchman, and run myself almost out of breath too. Now to my young mistresses go I; somebody cast an old shoe after me.[527] But soft: how shall I do to counterfeit the Dutchman, because I speak English so like a natural? Tush, take you no thought for that; let me alone for squintum squantum. Soft, here's my master's house.
Heigh. Who's there?
Fris. Who's there, why, sir, here is—nay, that's too good English. Why, here be the growte Dutchman.
Heigh. Then, there's not only a growte head, but an ass also.
Fris. What be you? you be an English ox to call a gentilemoan ass.
Har. Hark, Ned; yonder's good greeting.
Fris. But you, and you be Master Mouse that dwell here, tell your Matressa Laurentia dat her sweetheart, Master Vandal, would speak with her.
Heigh. Master Mendall, get you gone, lest you get a broken pate, and so mar all. Here's no entrance for Mistress Laurentia's sweetheart.
Fris. God's sacren, wat is de luck now? Shall not I come to my friend Master Pisar hoose?
Heigh. Yes, and to Master Pisaro's shoes too,[528] if he or they were here.
Fris. Why, my growte friend, Master Pisaro, doth dwell here.
Heigh. Sirrah, you lie; here dwells nobody but I, that have dwelt here this one and forty years, and sold glasses.
Wal. Lie farther: one and fifty at the least.
[Aside.
Fris. Hoo, hoo, hoo? Do you give the gentleman the lie?
Har. Ay, sir, and will give you a lick of my cudgel, if ye stay long and trouble the whole street with your bawling. Hence, dolt, and go seek Master Pisaro's house.
Fris. Go seek Master Pisaro's house! Where shall I go seek it?
Heigh. Why, you shall go seek it where it is.
Fris. That is here, in Crutched Friars?
Heigh. How, loggerhead, is Crutched Friars here? I thought you were some such drunken ass, that come to seek Crutched Friars in Tower Street. But get you along on your left hand, and be hanged! You have kept me out of my bed with your bangling a good while longer than I would have been.
Fris. Ah, ah! How is this? Is not this Crutched Friars? Tell me. I'll hold a crown they gave me so much wine at the tavern, that I am drunk, and know not on't. [Aside.
Har. My Dutchman's out his compass and his card;
He's reck'ning what wind hath drove him hither.
I'll swear he thinks never to see Pisaro's.
Fris. Nay, 'tis so; I am sure drunk. Soft, let me see, what was I about? O, now I have it: I must go to my master's house and counterfeit the Dutchman, and get my young mistress. Well, and I must turn on my left hand, for I have forgot the way quite and clean, [Aside.] Fare de well, good friend; I am a simple Dutchman, I. [Exit Frisco.
Heigh. Fair weather after you: and now, my lads,
Have I not played my part as I should do?
Har. 'Twas well, 'twas well. But now, let's cast about,
To set these woodcocks farther from the house,
And afterwards return unto our girls.
Wal. Content, content. Come, come, make haste. [Exeunt.
Enter Alvaro.
Alv. I go and turn, and dan I come to dis plashe, I can no tell waer, and sal do I can no tell wat. Turn by the pump? I pump it fair.
Enter Delion.
Del. Me aller, end aller, and can no come to Croche Friars.
Enter Frisco.
Fris. O miserable black pudding! If I can tell which is the way to my master's house, I am a red herring, and no honest gentleman.
Alv. Who parlato daer?
Del. Who be der? Who aller der?
Fris. How's this? For my life, here are the strangers! O, that I had the Dutchman's hose, that I might creep into the pockets! they'll three fall upon me, and beat me.
Alv. Who go der ander?
Del. Ami.
Fris. O, brave! Tis nobody but Master Alvaro and the Frenchman going to our house, on my life. Well, I'll have some sport with them, if the watch hinder me not. Who goes there?
Del. Who parle der? In wat plashe, in wat street be you?
Fris. Why, sir, I can tell where I am. I am in Tower Street: where a devil be you?
Del. I be here in Leadenhall.
Fris. In Leadenhall? I trow I shall meet with you anon. In Leadenhall? What a simple ass is this Frenchman! Some more of this. [Aside.
Where are you, sir?
Alv. Moi? I be here in Vanshe Street.
Fris. This is excellent, i' faith; as fit as a fiddle! I in Tower Street, you in Leadenhall, and the third in Fenchurch Street; and yet all three hear one another, and all three speak together. Either we must be all three in Leadenhall, or all three in Tower Street, or all three in Fenchurch Street, or all three fools.
Alv. Monsieur gentlehomme, can you well teash de way to Cruche Friars?
Fris. How, to Crutched Friars? Ay, ay, ay, sir, passing well, if you will follow me.
Del. Ay, dat me sal, monsieur gentlehomme, and give you tanks.
Fris. And, Monsieur Alvaro, I shall lead you such a jaunt that you shall scarce give me thanks for. [Aside.] Come, sirs, follow me. Now for a dirty puddle, the pissing conduit, or a great post, that might turn these two from asses to oxen by knocking their horns to their foreheads.
Alv. Where be de now, signor?
Fris. Even where you will, signor, for I know not. Soft, I smell: O pure nose!
Del. What do you smell?
Fris. I have the scent of London stone as full in my nose, as Abchurch Lane of mother Wall's pasties. Sirs, feel about: I smell London stone.
Alv. What be dis?
Fris. Soft, let me see; feel, I should say, for I cannot see. O lads, pray for my life, for we are almost at Crutched Friars.
Del. Dat's good: but what be dis post?
Fris. This post? why, 'tis the Maypole on Ivy Bridge going to Westminster.
Del. Ho[w,] Westminster! how come we to Westminster?
Fris. Why, on your legs, fools: how should you go? Soft, here's another; O, now I know indeed where I am. We are now at the farthest end of Shoreditch; for this is the Maypole.
Del. Shoreditch? O Dio! dere be some naughty ting, some spirit do lead us.
Fris. You say true, sir, for I am afeard your French spirit is up so far already, that you brought me this way, because you would find a charm for it at the Blue Boar in the spital. But soft, who comes here?
Enter a Bellman.
Bel. Maids in your smocks,
Look well to your locks;
Your fire and light;
And God give you good night!
Del. Monsieur gentlehomme, I pray parlez one, two, three, four words vor us to dis oul man.
Fris. Yes, marry, shall I, sir. I pray, honest fellow, in what street be we?
Bel. Ho, Frisco! whither frisk you at this time of night?
Del. What, Monsieur Frisco?
Alv. Signor Frisco?
Fris. The same, the same. Hark ye, honesty; methinks you might do well to have an M under your girdle,[529] considering how Signor Pisaro and this other monsieur do hold of me.
Bel. O sir, I cry your mercy: pardon this fault, and I'll do as much for you the next time.
Fris. Well, passing over superfluical talk, I pray, what street is this? for it is so dark, I know not where I am.
Bel. Why, art thou drunk? Dost thou not know Fenchurch Street?
Fris. Ay, sir, a good fellow may sometimes be overseen among friends. I was drinking with my master and these gentlemen, and therefore no marvel, though I be none of the wisest at this present. But I pray thee, good-man Butterick, bring me to my master's house.
Bel. Why, I will, I will: push! that you are so strange nowadays; but it is an old-said saw, honours change manners.
Fris. Good-man Butterick, will you walk afore?
Come, honest friends, will you go to our house?
Del. Oui, Monsieur Frisco.
Alv. Si, Signor Frisco.