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Title: Every Man In His Humour
Author: Ben Jonson
Release Date: January, 2003 [Etext #3694]
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Every Man in his Humour
by Ben Jonson
INTRODUCTION
THE greatest of English dramatists except Shakespeare, the first literary
dictator and poet-laureate, a writer of verse, prose, satire, and criticism
who most potently of all the men of his time affected the subsequent course
of English letters: such was Ben Jonson, and as such his strong
personality assumes an interest to us almost unparalleled, at least in his
age.
Ben Jonson came of the stock that was centuries after to give to the world
Thomas Carlyle; for Jonson's grandfather was of Annandale, over the Solway,
whence he migrated to England. Jonson's father lost his estate under Queen
Mary, "having been cast into prison and forfeited." He entered the church,
but died a month before his illustrious son was born, leaving his widow and
child in poverty. Jonson's birthplace was Westminster, and the time of his
birth early in 1573. He was thus nearly ten years Shakespeare's junior,
and less well off, if a trifle better born. But Jonson did not profit even
by this slight advantage. His mother married beneath her, a wright or
bricklayer, and Jonson was for a time apprenticed to the trade. As a youth
he attracted the attention of the famous antiquary, William Camden, then
usher at Westminster School, and there the poet laid the solid foundations
of his classical learning. Jonson always held Camden in veneration,
acknowledging that to him he owed,
"All that I am in arts, all that I know:"
and dedicating his first dramatic success, "Every Man in His Humour," to
him. It is doubtful whether Jonson ever went to either university, though
Fuller says that he was "statutably admitted into St. John's College,
Cambridge." He tells us that he took no degree, but was later "Master of
Arts in both the universities, by their favour, not his study." When a
mere youth Jonson enlisted as a soldier trailing his pike in Flanders in
the protracted wars of William the Silent against the Spanish. Jonson was
a large and raw-boned lad; he became by his own account in time exceedingly
bulky. In chat with his friend William Drummond of Hawthornden, Jonson
told how "in his service in the Low Countries he had, in the face of both
the camps, killed an enemy, and taken 'opima spolia' from him;" and how
"since his coming to England, being appealed to the fields, he had killed
his adversary which had hurt him in the arm and whose sword was ten inches
longer than his." Jonson's reach may have made up for the lack of his
sword; certainly his prowess lost nothing in the telling. Obviously Jonson
was brave, combative, and not averse to talking of himself and his doings.
In 1592, Jonson returned from abroad penniless. Soon after he married,
almost as early and quite as imprudently as Shakespeare. He told Drummond
curtly that "his wife was a shrew, yet honest"; for some years he lived
apart from her in the household of Lord Albany. Yet two touching epitaphs
among Jonson's 'Epigrams', "On my first daughter," and "On my first son,"
attest the warmth of the poet's family affections. The daughter died in
infancy, the son of the plague; another son grew up to manhood little
credit to his father whom he survived. We know nothing beyond this of
Jonson's domestic life.
How soon Jonson drifted into what we now call grandly "the theatrical
profession" we do not know. In 1593 Marlowe made his tragic exit from
life, and Greene, Shakespeare's other rival on the popular stage, had
preceded Marlowe in an equally miserable death the year before.
Shakespeare already had the running to himself. Jonson appears first in
the employment of Philip Henslowe, the exploiter of several troupes of
players, manager, and father-in-law of the famous actor, Edward Alleyn.
From entries in 'Henslowe's Diary', a species of theatrical account book
which has been handed down to us, we know that Jonson was connected with
the Admiral's men; for he borrowed £4 of Henslowe, July 28, 1597, paying
back 3s. 9d. on the same day on account of his "share" (in what is not
altogether clear); while later, on December 3, of the same year, Henslowe
advanced 20s. to him "upon a book which he showed the plot unto the company
which he promised to deliver unto the company at Christmas next." In the
next August Jonson was in collaboration with Chettle and Porter in a play
called "Hot Anger Soon Cold." All this points to an association with
Henslowe of some duration, as no mere tyro would be thus paid in advance
upon mere promise. From allusions in Dekker's play, "Satiromastix," it
appears that Jonson, like Shakespeare, began life as an actor, and that he
"ambled in a leather pitch by a play-wagon" taking at one time the part of
Hieronimo in Kyd's famous play, "The Spanish Tragedy." By the beginning of
1598, Jonson, though still in needy circumstances, had begun to receive
recognition. Francis Meres -- well known for his "Comparative Discourse of
our English Poets with the Greek, Latin, and Italian Poets," printed in
1598, and for his mention therein of a dozen plays of Shakespeare by title
-- accords to Ben Jonson a place as one of "our best in tragedy," a matter
of some surprise, as no known tragedy of Jonson from so early a date has
come down to us. That Jonson was at work on tragedy, however, is proved by
the entries in Henslowe of at least three tragedies, now lost, in which he
had a hand. These are "Page of Plymouth," "King Robert II. of Scotland,"
and "Richard Crookback." But all of these came later, on his return to
Henslowe, and range from August 1599 to June 1602.
Returning to the autumn of 1598, an event now happened to sever for a time
Jonson's relations with Henslowe. In a letter to Alleyn, dated September
26 of that year, Henslowe writes: "I have lost one of my company that
hurteth me greatly; that is Gabriel [Spencer], for he is slain in Hogsden
fields by the hands of Benjamin Jonson, bricklayer." The last word is
perhaps Henslowe's thrust at Jonson in his displeasure rather than a
designation of his actual continuance at his trade up to this time. It is
fair to Jonson to remark however, that his adversary appears to have been a
notorious fire-eater who had shortly before killed one Feeke in a similar
squabble. Duelling was a frequent occurrence of the time among gentlemen
and the nobility; it was an imprudent breach of the peace on the part of a
player. This duel is the one which Jonson described years after to
Drummond, and for it Jonson was duly arraigned at Old Bailey, tried, and
convicted. He was sent to prison and such goods and chattels as he had
"were forfeited." It is a thought to give one pause that, but for the
ancient law permitting convicted felons to plead, as it was called, the
benefit of clergy, Jonson might have been hanged for this deed. The
circumstance that the poet could read and write saved him; and he received
only a brand of the letter "T," for Tyburn, on his left thumb. While in
jail Jonson became a Roman Catholic; but he returned to the faith of the
Church of England a dozen years later.
On his release, in disgrace with Henslowe and his former associates, Jonson
offered his services as a playwright to Henslowe's rivals, the Lord
Chamberlain's company, in which Shakespeare was a prominent shareholder. A
tradition of long standing, though not susceptible of proof in a court of
law, narrates that Jonson had submitted the manuscript of "Every Man in His
Humour" to the Chamberlain's men and had received from the company a
refusal; that Shakespeare called him back, read the play himself, and at
once accepted it. Whether this story is true or not, certain it is that
"Every Man in His Humour" was accepted by Shakespeare's company and acted
for the first time in 1598, with Shakespeare taking a part. The evidence
of this is contained in the list of actors prefixed to the comedy in the
folio of Jonson's works, 1616. But it is a mistake to infer, because
Shakespeare's name stands first in the list of actors and the elder
Kno'well first in the 'dramatis personae', that Shakespeare took that
particular part. The order of a list of Elizabethan players was generally
that of their importance or priority as shareholders in the company and
seldom if ever corresponded to the list of characters.
"Every Man in His Humour" was an immediate success, and with it Jonson's
reputation as one of the leading dramatists of his time was established
once and for all. This could have been by no means Jonson's earliest
comedy, and we have just learned that he was already reputed one of "our
best in tragedy." Indeed, one of Jonson's extant comedies, "The Case is
Altered," but one never claimed by him or published as his, must certainly
have preceded "Every Man in His Humour" on the stage. The former play may
be described as a comedy modelled on the Latin plays of Plautus. (It
combines, in fact, situations derived from the "Captivi" and the
"Aulularia" of that dramatist). But the pretty story of the beggar-maiden,
Rachel, and her suitors, Jonson found, not among the classics, but in the
ideals of romantic love which Shakespeare had already popularised on the
stage. Jonson never again produced so fresh and lovable a feminine
personage as Rachel, although in other respects "The Case is Altered" is
not a conspicuous play, and, save for the satirising of Antony Munday in
the person of Antonio Balladino and Gabriel Harvey as well, is perhaps the
least characteristic of the comedies of Jonson.
"Every Man in His Humour," probably first acted late in the summer of 1598
and at the Curtain, is commonly regarded as an epoch-making play; and this
view is not unjustified. As to plot, it tells little more than how an
intercepted letter enabled a father to follow his supposedly studious son
to London, and there observe his life with the gallants of the time. The
real quality of this comedy is in its personages and in the theory upon
which they are conceived. Ben Jonson had theories about poetry and the
drama, and he was neither chary in talking of them nor in experimenting
with them in his plays. This makes Jonson, like Dryden in his time, and
Wordsworth much later, an author to reckon with; particularly when we
remember that many of Jonson's notions came for a time definitely to
prevail and to modify the whole trend of English poetry. First of all
Jonson was a classicist, that is, he believed in restraint and precedent in
art in opposition to the prevalent ungoverned and irresponsible Renaissance
spirit. Jonson believed that there was a professional way of doing things
which might be reached by a study of the best examples, and he found these
examples for the most part among the ancients. To confine our attention to
the drama, Jonson objected to the amateurishness and haphazard nature of
many contemporary plays, and set himself to do something different; and the
first and most striking thing that he evolved was his conception and
practice of the comedy of humours.
As Jonson has been much misrepresented in this matter, let us quote his own
words as to "humour." A humour, according to Jonson, was a bias of
disposition, a warp, so to speak, in character by which
"Some one peculiar quality
Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw
All his affects, his spirits, and his powers,
In their confluctions, all to run one way."
But continuing, Jonson is careful to add:
"But that a rook by wearing a pied feather,
The cable hat-band, or the three-piled ruff,
A yard of shoe-tie, or the Switzers knot
On his French garters, should affect a humour!
O, it is more than most ridiculous."
Jonson's comedy of humours, in a word, conceived of stage personages on the
basis of a ruling trait or passion (a notable simplification of actual life
be it observed in passing); and, placing these typified traits in
juxtaposition in their conflict and contrast, struck the spark of comedy.
Downright, as his name indicates, is "a plain squire"; Bobadill's humour is
that of the braggart who is incidentally, and with delightfully comic
effect, a coward; Brainworm's humour is the finding out of things to the
end of fooling everybody: of course he is fooled in the end himself. But
it was not Jonson's theories alone that made the success of "Every Man in
His Humour." The play is admirably written and each character is vividly
conceived, and with a firm touch based on observation of the men of the
London of the day. Jonson was neither in this, his first great comedy (nor
in any other play that he wrote), a supine classicist, urging that English
drama return to a slavish adherence to classical conditions. He says as to
the laws of the old comedy (meaning by "laws," such matters as the unities
of time and place and the use of chorus): "I see not then, but we should
enjoy the same licence, or free power to illustrate and heighten our
invention as they [the ancients] did; and not be tied to those strict and
regular forms which the niceness of a few, who are nothing but form, would
thrust upon us." "Every Man in His Humour" is written in prose, a novel
practice which Jonson had of his predecessor in comedy, John Lyly. Even
the word "humour" seems to have been employed in the Jonsonian sense by
Chapman before Jonson's use of it. Indeed, the comedy of humours itself is
only a heightened variety of the comedy of manners which represents life,
viewed at a satirical angle, and is the oldest and most persistent species
of comedy in the language. None the less, Jonson's comedy merited its
immediate success and marked out a definite course in which comedy long
continued to run. To mention only Shakespeare's Falstaff and his rout,
Bardolph, Pistol, Dame Quickly, and the rest, whether in "Henry IV." or in
"The Merry Wives of Windsor," all are conceived in the spirit of humours.
So are the captains, Welsh, Scotch, and Irish of "Henry V.," and Malvolio
especially later; though Shakespeare never employed the method of humours
for an important personage. It was not Jonson's fault that many of his
successors did precisely the thing that he had reprobated, that is, degrade
"the humour: into an oddity of speech, an eccentricity of manner, of dress,
or cut of beard. There was an anonymous play called "Every Woman in Her
Humour." Chapman wrote "A Humourous Day's Mirth," Day, "Humour Out of
Breath," Fletcher later, "The Humourous Lieutenant," and Jonson, besides
"Every Man Out of His Humour," returned to the title in closing the cycle
of his comedies in "The Magnetic Lady or Humours Reconciled."
With the performance of "Every Man Out of His Humour" in 1599, by
Shakespeare's company once more at the Globe, we turn a new page in
Jonson's career. Despite his many real virtues, if there is one feature
more than any other that distinguishes Jonson, it is his arrogance; and to
this may be added his self-righteousness, especially under criticism or
satire. "Every Man Out of His Humour" is the first of three "comical
satires" which Jonson contributed to what Dekker called the 'poetomachia'
or war of the theatres as recent critics have named it. This play as a
fabric of plot is a very slight affair; but as a satirical picture of the
manners of the time, proceeding by means of vivid caricature, couched in
witty and brilliant dialogue and sustained by that righteous indignation
which must lie at the heart of all true satire -- as a realisation, in
short, of the classical ideal of comedy -- there had been nothing like
Jonson's comedy since the days of Aristophanes. "Every Man in His Humour,"
like the two plays that follow it, contains two kinds of attack, the
critical or generally satiric, levelled at abuses and corruptions in the
abstract; and the personal, in which specific application is made of all
this in the lampooning of poets and others, Jonson's contemporaries. The
method of personal attack by actual caricature of a person on the stage is
almost as old as the drama. Aristophanes so lampooned Euripides in "The
Acharnians" and Socrates in "The Clouds," to mention no other examples; and
in English drama this kind of thing is alluded to again and again. What
Jonson really did, was to raise the dramatic lampoon to an art, and make
out of a casual burlesque and bit of mimicry a dramatic satire of literary
pretensions and permanency. With the arrogant attitude mentioned above and
his uncommon eloquence in scorn, vituperation, and invective, it is no
wonder that Jonson soon involved himself in literary and even personal
quarrels with his fellow-authors. The circumstances of the origin of this
'poetomachia' are far from clear, and those who have written on the topic,
except of late, have not helped to make them clearer. The origin of the
"war" has been referred to satirical references, apparently to Jonson,
contained in "The Scourge of Villainy," a satire in regular form after the
manner of the ancients by John Marston, a fellow playwright, subsequent
friend and collaborator of Jonson's. On the other hand, epigrams of Jonson
have been discovered (49, 68, and 100) variously charging "playwright"
(reasonably identified with Marston) with scurrility, cowardice, and
plagiarism; though the dates of the epigrams cannot be ascertained with
certainty. Jonson's own statement of the matter to Drummond runs: "He had
many quarrels with Marston, beat him, and took his pistol from him, wrote
his 'Poetaster' on him; the beginning[s] of them were that Marston
represented him on the stage."*
[footnote] *The best account of this whole subject is to be found in the
edition of 'Poetaster' and 'Satiromastrix' by J. H. Penniman in 'Belles
Lettres Series' shortly to appear. See also his earlier work, 'The War of
the Theatres', 1892, and the excellent contributions to the subject by H.
C. Hart in 'Notes and Queries', and in his edition of Jonson, 1906.
Here at least we are on certain ground; and the principals of the quarrel
are known. "Histriomastix," a play revised by Marston in 1598, has been
regarded as the one in which Jonson was thus "represented on the stage";
although the personage in question, Chrisogonus, a poet, satirist, and
translator, poor but proud, and contemptuous of the common herd, seems
rather a complimentary portrait of Jonson than a caricature. As to the
personages actually ridiculed in "Every Man Out of His Humour," Carlo
Buffone was formerly thought certainly to be Marston, as he was described
as "a public scurrilous, and profane jester," and elsewhere as the grand
scourge or second untruss [that is, satirist], of the time" (Joseph Hall
being by his own boast the first, and Marston's work being entitled "The
Scourge of Villainy"). Apparently we must now prefer for Carlo a notorious
character named Charles Chester, of whom gossipy and inaccurate Aubrey
relates that he was "a bold impertinent fellow...a perpetual talker and
made a noise like a drum in a room. So one time at a tavern Sir Walter
Raleigh beats him and seals up his mouth (that is his upper and nether
beard) with hard wax. From him Ben Jonson takes his Carlo Buffone ['i.e.',
jester] in 'Every Man in His Humour' ['sic']." Is it conceivable that
after all Jonson was ridiculing Marston, and that the point of the satire
consisted in an intentional confusion of "the grand scourge or second
untruss" with "the scurrilous and profane" Chester?
We have digressed into detail in this particular case to exemplify the
difficulties of criticism in its attempts to identify the allusions in
these forgotten quarrels. We are on sounder ground of fact in recording
other manifestations of Jonson's enmity. In "The Case is Altered" there is
clear ridicule in the character Antonio Balladino of Anthony Munday,
pageant-poet of the city, translator of romances and playwright as well.
In "Every Man in His Humour" there is certainly a caricature of Samuel
Daniel, accepted poet of the court, sonneteer, and companion of men of
fashion. These men held recognised positions to which Jonson felt his
talents better entitled him; they were hence to him his natural enemies.
It seems almost certain that he pursued both in the personages of his
satire through "Every Man Out of His Humour," and "Cynthia's Revels,"
Daniel under the characters Fastidious Brisk and Hedon, Munday as
Puntarvolo and Amorphus; but in these last we venture on quagmire once
more. Jonson's literary rivalry of Daniel is traceable again and again, in
the entertainments that welcomed King James on his way to London, in the
masques at court, and in the pastoral drama. As to Jonson's personal
ambitions with respect to these two men, it is notable that he became, not
pageant-poet, but chronologer to the City of London; and that, on the
accession of the new king, he came soon to triumph over Daniel as the
accepted entertainer of royalty.
"Cynthia's Revels," the second "comical satire," was acted in 1600, and, as
a play, is even more lengthy, elaborate, and impossible than "Every Man Out
of His Humour." Here personal satire seems to have absorbed everything,
and while much of the caricature is admirable, especially in the detail of
witty and trenchantly satirical dialogue, the central idea of a fountain of
self-love is not very well carried out, and the persons revert at times to
abstractions, the action to allegory. It adds to our wonder that this
difficult drama should have been acted by the Children of Queen Elizabeth's
Chapel, among them Nathaniel Field with whom Jonson read Horace and
Martial, and whom he taught later how to make plays. Another of these
precocious little actors was Salathiel Pavy, who died before he was
thirteen, already famed for taking the parts of old men. Him Jonson
immortalised in one of the sweetest of his epitaphs. An interesting
sidelight is this on the character of this redoubtable and rugged satirist,
that he should thus have befriended and tenderly remembered these little
theatrical waifs, some of whom (as we know) had been literally kidnapped to
be pressed into the service of the theatre and whipped to the conning of
their difficult parts. To the caricature of Daniel and Munday in
"Cynthia's Revels" must be added Anaides (impudence), here assuredly
Marston, and Asotus (the prodigal), interpreted as Lodge or, more
perilously, Raleigh. Crites, like Asper-Macilente in "Every Man Out of His
Humour," is Jonson's self-complaisant portrait of himself, the just, wholly
admirable, and judicious scholar, holding his head high above the pack of
the yelping curs of envy and detraction, but careless of their puny attacks
on his perfections with only too mindful a neglect.
The third and last of the "comical satires" is "Poetaster," acted, once
more, by the Children of the Chapel in 1601, and Jonson's only avowed
contribution to the fray. According to the author's own account, this play
was written in fifteen weeks on a report that his enemies had entrusted to
Dekker the preparation of "Satiromastix, the Untrussing of the Humorous
Poet," a dramatic attack upon himself. In this attempt to forestall his
enemies Jonson succeeded, and "Poetaster" was an immediate and deserved
success. While hardly more closely knit in structure than its earlier
companion pieces, "Poetaster" is planned to lead up to the ludicrous final
scene in which, after a device borrowed from the "Lexiphanes" of Lucian,
the offending poetaster, Marston-Crispinus, is made to throw up the
difficult words with which he had overburdened his stomach as well as
overlarded his vocabulary. In the end Crispinus with his fellow,
Dekker-Demetrius, is bound over to keep the peace and never thenceforward
"malign, traduce, or detract the person or writings of Quintus Horatius
Flaccus [Jonson] or any other eminent man transcending you in merit." One
of the most diverting personages in Jonson's comedy is Captain Tucca. "His
peculiarity" has been well described by Ward as "a buoyant blackguardism
which recovers itself instantaneously from the most complete exposure, and
a picturesqueness of speech like that of a walking dictionary of slang."
It was this character, Captain Tucca, that Dekker hit upon in his reply,
"Satiromastix," and he amplified him, turning his abusive vocabulary back
upon Jonson and adding "An immodesty to his dialogue that did not enter
into Jonson's conception." It has been held, altogether plausibly, that
when Dekker was engaged professionally, so to speak, to write a dramatic
reply to Jonson, he was at work on a species of chronicle history, dealing
with the story of Walter Terill in the reign of William Rufus. This he
hurriedly adapted to include the satirical characters suggested by
"Poetaster," and fashioned to convey the satire of his reply. The
absurdity of placing Horace in the court of a Norman king is the result.
But Dekker's play is not without its palpable hits at the arrogance, the
literary pride, and self-righteousness of Jonson-Horace, whose "ningle" or
pal, the absurd Asinius Bubo, has recently been shown to figure forth, in
all likelihood, Jonson's friend, the poet Drayton. Slight and hastily
adapted as is "Satiromastix," especially in a comparison with the better
wrought and more significant satire of "Poetaster," the town awarded the
palm to Dekker, not to Jonson; and Jonson gave over in consequence his
practice of "comical satire." Though Jonson was cited to appear before the
Lord Chief Justice to answer certain charges to the effect that he had
attacked lawyers and soldiers in "Poetaster," nothing came of this
complaint. It may be suspected that much of this furious clatter and
give-and-take was pure playing to the gallery. The town was agog with the
strife, and on no less an authority than Shakespeare ("Hamlet," ii. 2), we
learn that the children's company (acting the plays of Jonson) did "so
berattle the common stages...that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of
goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither."
Several other plays have been thought to bear a greater or less part in the
war of the theatres. Among them the most important is a college play,
entitled "The Return from Parnassus," dating 1601-02. In it a much-quoted
passage makes Burbage, as a character, declare: "Why here's our fellow
Shakespeare puts them all down; aye and Ben Jonson, too. O that Ben Jonson
is a pestilent fellow; he brought up Horace, giving the poets a pill, but
our fellow Shakespeare hath given him a purge that made him bewray his
credit." Was Shakespeare then concerned in this war of the stages? And
what could have been the nature of this "purge"? Among several
suggestions, "Troilus and Cressida" has been thought by some to be the play
in which Shakespeare thus "put down" his friend, Jonson. A wiser
interpretation finds the "purge" in "Satiromastix," which, though not
written by Shakespeare, was staged by his company, and therefore with his
approval and under his direction as one of the leaders of that company.
The last years of the reign of Elizabeth thus saw Jonson recognised as a
dramatist second only to Shakespeare, and not second even to him as a
dramatic satirist. But Jonson now turned his talents to new fields. Plays
on subjects derived from classical story and myth had held the stage from
the beginning of the drama, so that Shakespeare was making no new departure
when he wrote his "Julius Caesar" about 1600. Therefore when Jonson staged
"Sejanus," three years later and with Shakespeare'scompany once more, he
was only following in the elder dramatist's footsteps. But Jonson's idea
of a play on classical history, on the one hand, and Shakespeare's and the
elder popular dramatists, on the other, were very different. Heywood some
years before had put five straggling plays on the stage in quick
succession, all derived from stories in Ovid and dramatised with little
taste or discrimination. Shakespeare had a finer conception of form, but
even he was contented to take all his ancient history from North's
translation of Plutarch and dramatise his subject without further inquiry.
Jonson was a scholar and a classical antiquarian. He reprobated this
slipshod amateurishness, and wrote his "Sejanus" like a scholar, reading
Tacitus, Suetonius, and other authorities, to be certain of his facts, his
setting, and his atmosphere, and somewhat pedantically noting his
authorities in the margin when he came to print. "Sejanus" is a tragedy of
genuine dramatic power in which is told with discriminating taste the story
of the haughty favourite of Tiberius with his tragical overthrow. Our
drama presents no truer nor more painstaking representation of ancient
Roman life than may be found in Jonson's "Sejanus" and "Catiline his
Conspiracy," which followed in 1611. A passage in the address of the
former play to the reader, in which Jonson refers to a collaboration in an
earlier version, has led to the surmise that Shakespeare may have been that
"worthier pen." There is no evidence to determine the matter.
In 1605, we find Jonson in active collaboration with Chapman and Marston in
the admirable comedy of London life entitled "Eastward Hoe." In the
previous year, Marston had dedicated his "Malcontent," in terms of fervid
admiration, to Jonson; so that the wounds of the war of the theatres must
have been long since healed. Between Jonson and Chapman there was the
kinship of similar scholarly ideals. The two continued friends throughout
life. "Eastward Hoe" achieved the extraordinary popularity represented in
a demand for three issues in one year. But this was not due entirely to
the merits of the play. In its earliest version a passage which an
irritable courtier conceived to be derogatory to his nation, the Scots,
sent both Chapman and Jonson to jail; but the matter was soon patched up,
for by this time Jonson had influence at court.
With the accession of King James, Jonson began his long and successful
career as a writer of masques. He wrote more masques than all his
competitors together, and they are of an extraordinary variety and poetic
excellence. Jonson did not invent the masque; for such premeditated
devices to set and frame, so to speak, a court ball had been known and
practised in varying degrees of elaboration long before his time. But
Jonson gave dramatic value to the masque, especially in his invention of
the antimasque, a comedy or farcical element of relief, entrusted to
professional players or dancers. He enhanced, as well, the beauty and
dignity of those portions of the masque in which noble lords and ladies
took their parts to create, by their gorgeous costumes and artistic
grouping and evolutions, a sumptuous show. On the mechanical and scenic
side Jonson had an inventive and ingenious partner in Inigo Jones, the
royal architect, who more than any one man raised the standard of stage
representation in the England of his day. Jonson continued active in the
service of the court in the writing of masques and other entertainments far
into the reign of King Charles; but, towards the end, a quarrel with Jones
embittered his life, and the two testy old men appear to have become not
only a constant irritation to each other, but intolerable bores at court.
In "Hymenaei," "The Masque of Queens," "Love Freed from Ignorance," "Lovers
made Men," "Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue," and many more will be found
Jonson's aptitude, his taste, his poetry and inventiveness in these
by-forms of the drama; while in "The Masque of Christmas," and "The Gipsies
Metamorphosed" especially, is discoverable that power ofbroad comedy which,
at court as well as in the city, was not the least element of Jonson's
contemporary popularity.
But Jonson had by no means given up the popular stage when he turned to the
amusement of King James. In 1605 "Volpone" was produced, "The Silent
Woman" in 1609, "The Alchemist" in the following year. These comedies,
with "Bartholomew Fair," 1614, represent Jonson at his height, and for
constructive cleverness, character successfully conceived in the manner of
caricature, wit and brilliancy of dialogue, they stand alone in English
drama. "Volpone, or the Fox," is, in a sense, a transition play from the
dramatic satires of the war of the theatres to the purer comedy represented
in the plays named above. Its subject is a struggle of wit applied to
chicanery; for among its 'dramatis personae', from the villainous Fox
himself, his rascally servant Mosca, Voltore (the vulture), Corbaccio and
Corvino (the big and the little raven), to Sir Politic Would-be and the
rest, there is scarcely a virtuous character in the play. Question has
been raised as to whether a story so forbidding can be considered a comedy,
for, although the plot ends in the discomfiture and imprisonment of the
most vicious, it involves no moral catastrophe. But Jonson was on sound
historical ground, for "Volpone" is conceived far more logically on the
lines of the ancients' theory of comedy than was ever the romantic drama of
Shakespeare, however repulsive we may find a philosophy of life that
facilely divides the world into the rogues and their dupes, and,
identifying brains with roguery and innocence with folly, admires the
former while inconsistently punishing them.
"The Silent Woman" is a gigantic farce of the most ingenious construction.
The whole comedy hinges on a huge joke, played by a heartless nephew on his
misanthropic uncle, who is induced to take to himself a wife, young, fair,
and warranted silent, but who, in the end, turns out neither silent nor a
woman at all. In "The Alchemist," again, we have the utmost cleverness in
construction, the whole fabric building climax on climax, witty, ingenious,
and so plausibly presented that we forget its departures from the
possibilities of life. In "The Alchemist" Jonson represented, none the
less to the life, certain sharpers of the metropolis, revelling in their
shrewdness and rascality and in the variety of the stupidity and wickedness
of their victims. We may object to the fact that the only person in the
play possessed of a scruple of honesty is discomfited, and that the
greatest scoundrel of all is approved in the end and rewarded. The comedy
is so admirably written and contrived, the personages stand out with such
lifelike distinctness in their several kinds, and the whole is animated
with such verve and resourcefulness that "The Alchemist" is a new marvel
every time it is read. Lastly of this group comes the tremendous comedy,
"Bartholomew Fair," less clear cut, less definite, and less structurally
worthy of praise than its three predecessors, but full of the keenest and
cleverest of satire and inventive to a degree beyond any English comedy
save some other of Jonson's own. It is in "Bartholomew Fair" that we are
presented to the immortal caricature of the Puritan, Zeal-in-the-Land Busy,
and the Littlewits that group about him, and it is in this extraordinary
comedy that the humour of Jonson, always open to this danger, loosens into
the Rabelaisian mode that so delighted King James in "The Gipsies
Metamorphosed." Another comedy of less merit is "The Devil is an Ass,"
acted in 1616. It was the failure of this play that caused Jonson to give
over writing for the public stage for a period of nearly ten years.
"Volpone" was laid as to scene in Venice. Whether because of the success
of "Eastward Hoe" or for other reasons, the other three comedies declare in
the words of the prologue to "The Alchemist":
"Our scene is London, 'cause we would make known
No country's mirth is better than our own."
Indeed Jonson went further when he came to revise his plays for collected publication in his folio of 1616, he transferred the scene of "Every Man in His Humou
r" from Florence to London also, converting Signior Lorenzo di Pazzi to Old
Kno'well, Prospero to Master Welborn, and Hesperida to Dame Kitely
"dwelling i' the Old Jewry."
In his comedies of London life, despite his trend towards caricature,
Jonson has shown himself a genuine realist, drawing from the life about him
with an experience and insight rare in any generation. A happy comparison
has been suggested between Ben Jonson and Charles Dickens. Both were men
of the people, lowly born and hardly bred. Each knew the London of his
time as few men knew it; and each represented it intimately and in
elaborate detail. Both men were at heart moralists, seeking the truth by
the exaggerated methods of humour and caricature; perverse, even
wrong-headed at times, but possessed of a true pathos and largeness of
heart, and when all has been said -- though the Elizabethan ran to satire,
the Victorian to sentimentality -- leaving the world better for the art
that they practised in it.
In 1616, the year of the death of Shakespeare, Jonson collected his plays,
his poetry, and his masques for publication in a collective edition. This
was an unusual thing at the time and had been attempted by no dramatist
before Jonson. This volume published, in a carefully revised text, all the
plays thus far mentioned, excepting "The Case is Altered," which Jonson did
not acknowledge, "Bartholomew Fair," and "The Devil is an Ass," which was
written too late. It included likewise a book of some hundred and thirty
odd 'Epigrams', in which form of brief and pungent writing Jonson was an
acknowledged master; "The Forest," a smaller collection of lyric and
occasional verse and some ten 'Masques' and 'Entertainments'. In this same
year Jonson was made poet laureate with a pension of one hundred marks a
year. This, with his fees and returns from several noblemen, and the small
earnings of his plays must have formed the bulk of his income. The poet
appears to have done certain literary hack-work for others, as, for
example, parts of the Punic Wars contributed to Raleigh's 'History of the
World'. We know from a story, little to the credit of either, that Jonson
accompanied Raleigh's son abroad in the capacity of a tutor. In 1618
Jonson was granted the reversion of the office of Master of the Revels, a
post for which he was peculiarly fitted; but he did not live to enjoy its
perquisites. Jonson was honoured with degrees by both universities, though
when and under what circumstances is not known. It has been said that he
narrowly escaped the honour of knighthood, which the satirists of the day
averred King James was wont to lavish with an indiscriminate hand. Worse
men were made knights in his day than worthy Ben Jonson.
From 1616 to the close of the reign of King James, Jonson produced nothing
for the stage. But he "prosecuted" what he calls "his wonted studies" with
such assiduity that he became in reality, as by report, one of the most
learned men of his time. Jonson's theory of authorship involved a wide
acquaintance with books and "an ability," as he put it, "to convert the
substance or riches of another poet to his own use." Accordingly Jonson
read not only the Greek and Latin classics down to the lesser writers, but
he acquainted himself especially with the Latin writings of his learned
contemporaries, their prose as well as their poetry, their antiquities and
curious lore as well as their more solid learning. Though a poor man,
Jonson was an indefatigable collector of books. He told Drummond that "the
Earl of Pembroke sent him £20 every first day of the new year to buy new
books." Unhappily, in 1623, his library was destroyed by fire, an accident
serio-comically described in his witty poem, "An Execration upon Vulcan."
Yet even now a book turns up from time to time in which is inscribed, in
fair large Italian lettering, the name, Ben Jonson. With respect to
Jonson's use of his material, Dryden said memorably of him: "[He] was not
only a professed imitator of Horace, but a learned plagiary of all the
others; you track him everywhere in their snow....But he has done his
robberies so openly that one sees he fears not to be taxed by any law. He
invades authors like a monarch, and what would be theft in other poets is
only victory in him." And yet it is but fair to say that Jonson prided
himself, and justly, on his originality. In "Catiline," he not only uses
Sallust's account of the conspiracy, but he models some of the speeches of
Cicero on the Roman orator's actual words. In "Poetaster," he lifts a
whole satire out of Horace and dramatises it effectively for his purposes.
The sophist Libanius suggests the situation of "The Silent Woman"; a Latin
comedy of Giordano Bruno, "Il Candelaio," the relation of the dupes and the
sharpers in "The Alchemist," the "Mostellaria" of Plautus, its admirable
opening scene. But Jonson commonly bettered his sources, and putting the
stamp of his sovereignty on whatever bullion he borrowed made it
thenceforward to all time current and his own.
The lyric and especially the occasional poetry of Jonson has a peculiar
merit. His theory demanded design and the perfection of literary finish.
He was furthest from the rhapsodist and the careless singer of an idle day;
and he believed that Apollo could only be worthily served in singing robes
and laurel crowned. And yet many of Jonson's lyrics will live as long as
the language. Who does not know "Queen and huntress, chaste and fair."
"Drink to me only with thine eyes," or "Still to be neat, still to be
dressed"? Beautiful in form, deft and graceful in expression, with not a
word too much or one that bears not its part in the total effect, there is
yet about the lyrics of Jonson a certain stiffness and formality, a
suspicion that they were not quite spontaneous and unbidden, but that they
were carved, so to speak, with disproportionate labour by a potent man of
letters whose habitual thought is on greater things. It is for these
reasons that Jonson is even better in the epigram and in occasional verse
where rhetorical finish and pointed wit less interfere with the spontaneity
and emotion which we usually associate with lyrical poetry. There are no
such epitaphs as Ben Jonson's, witness the charming ones on his own
children, on Salathiel Pavy, the child-actor, and many more; and this even
though the rigid law of mine and thine must now restore to William Browne
of Tavistock the famous lines beginning: "Underneath this sable hearse."
Jonson is unsurpassed, too, in the difficult poetry of compliment, seldom
falling into fulsome praise and disproportionate similtude, yet showing
again and again a generous appreciation of worth in others, a
discriminating taste and a generous personal regard. There was no man in
England of his rank so well known and universally beloved as Ben Jonson.
The list of his friends, of those to whom he had written verses, and those
who had written verses to him, includes the name of every man of prominence
in the England of King James. And the tone of many of these productions
discloses an affectionate familiarity that speaks for the amiable
personality and sound worth of the laureate. In 1619, growing unwieldy
through inactivity, Jonson hit upon the heroic remedy of a journey afoot to
Scotland. On his way thither and back he was hospitably received at the
houses of many friends and by those to whom his friends had recommended
him. When he arrived in Edinburgh, the burgesses met to grant him the
freedom of the city, and Drummond, foremost of Scottish poets, was proud to
entertain him for weeks as his guest at Hawthornden. Some of the noblest
of Jonson's poems were inspired by friendship. Such is the fine "Ode to
the memory of Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Moryson," and that admirable
piece of critical insight and filial affection, prefixed to the first
Shakespeare folio, "To the memory of my beloved master, William
Shakespeare, and what he hath left us." to mention only these. Nor can the
earlier "Epode," beginning "Not to know vice at all," be matchedin stately
gravity and gnomic wisdom in its own wise and stately age.
But if Jonson had deserted the stage after the publication of his folio and
up to the end of the reign of King James, he was far from inactive; for
year after year his inexhaustible inventiveness continued to contribute to
the masquing and entertainment at court. In "The Golden Age Restored,"
Pallas turns from the Iron Age with its attendant evils into statues which
sink out of sight; in "Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue," Atlas figures
represented as an old man, his shoulders covered with snow, and Comus, "the
god of cheer or the belly," is one of the characters, a circumstance which
an imaginative boy of ten, named John Milton, was not to forget. "Pan's
Anniversary," late in the reign of James, proclaimed that Jonson had not
yet forgotten how to write exquisite lyrics, and "The Gipsies
Metamorphosed" displayed the old drollery and broad humorous stroke still
unimpaired and unmatchable. These, too, and the earlier years of Charles
were the days of the Apollo Room of the Devil Tavern where Jonson presided,
the absolute monarch of English literary Bohemia. We hear of a room
blazoned about with Jonson's own judicious 'Leges Convivales' in letters of
gold, of a company made up of the choicest spirits of the time, devotedly
attached to their veteran dictator, his reminiscences, opinions,
affections, and enmities. And we hear, too, of valorous potations; but in
the words of Herrick addressed to his master, Jonson, at the Devil Tavern,
as at the Dog, the Triple Tun, and at the Mermaid,
"We such clusters had
As made us nobly wild, not mad,
And yet each verse of thine
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine."
But the patronage of the court failed in the days of King Charles, though
Jonson was not without royal favours; and the old poet returned to the
stage, producing, between 1625 and 1633, "The Staple of News," "The New
Inn," "The Magnetic Lady," and "The Tale of a Tub," the last doubtless
revised from a much earlier comedy. None of these plays met with any
marked success, although the scathing generalisation of Dryden that
designated them "Jonson's dotages" is unfair to their genuine merits. Thus
the idea of an office for the gathering, proper dressing, and promulgation
of news (wild flight of the fancy in its time) was an excellent subject for
satire on the existing absurdities among the newsmongers; although as much
can hardly be said for "The Magnetic Lady," who, in her bounty, draws to
her personages of differing humours to reconcile them in the end according
to the alternative title, or "Humours Reconciled." These last plays of the
old dramatist revert to caricature and the hard lines of allegory; the
moralist is more than ever present, the satire degenerates into personal
lampoon, especially of his sometime friend, Inigo Jones, who appears
unworthily to have used his influence at court against the broken-down old
poet. And now disease claimed Jonson, and he was bedridden for months. He
had succeeded Middleton in 1628 as Chronologer to the City of London, but
lost the post for not fulfilling its duties. King Charles befriended him,
and even commissioned him to write still for the entertainment of the
court; and he was not without the sustaining hand of noble patrons and
devoted friends among the younger poets who were proud to be "sealed of the
tribe of Ben."
Jonson died, August 6, 1637, and a second folio of his works, which he had
been some time gathering, was printed in 1640, bearing in its various parts
dates ranging from 1630 to 1642. It included all the plays mentioned in
the foregoing paragraphs, excepting "The Case is Altered;" the masques,
some fifteen, that date between 1617 and 1630; another collection of lyrics
and occasional poetry called "Underwoods, including some further
entertainments; a translation of "Horace's Art of Poetry" (also published
in a vicesimo quarto in 1640), and certain fragments and ingatherings which
the poet would hardly have included himself. These last comprise the
fragment (less than seventy lines) of a tragedy called "Mortimer his Fall,"
and three acts of a pastoral drama of much beauty and poetic spirit, "The
Sad Shepherd." There is also the exceedingly interesting 'English Grammar'
"made by Ben Jonson for the benefit of all strangers out of his observation
of the English language now spoken and in use," in Latin and English; and
'Timber, or discoveries' "made upon men and matter as they have flowed out
of his daily reading, or had their reflux to his peculiar notion of the
times." The 'Discoveries', as it is usually called, is a commonplace book
such as many literary men have kept, in which their reading was chronicled,
passages that took their fancy translated or transcribed, and their passing
opinions noted. Many passage of Jonson's 'Discoveries' are literal
translations from the authors he chanced to be reading, with the reference,
noted or not, as the accident of the moment prescribed. At times he
follows the line of Macchiavelli's argument as to the nature and conduct of
princes; at others he clarifies his own conception of poetry and poets by
recourse to Aristotle. He finds a choice paragraph on eloquence in Seneca
the elder and applies it to his own recollection of Bacon's power as an
orator; and another on facile and ready genius, and translates it, adapting
it to his recollection of his fellow-playwright, Shakespeare. To call such
passages -- which Jonson never intended for publication -- plagiarism, is
to obscure the significance of words. To disparage his memory by citing
them is a preposterous use of scholarship. Jonson's prose, both in his
dramas, in the descriptive comments of his masques, and in the
'Discoveries', is characterised by clarity and vigorous directness, nor is
it wanting in a fine sense of form or in the subtler graces of diction.
When Jonson died there was a project for a handsome monument to his memory.
But the Civil War was at hand, and the project failed. A memorial, not
insufficient, was carved on the stone covering his grave in one of the
aisles of Westminster Abbey:
"O rare Ben Jonson."
FELIX E. SCHELLING.
THE COLLEGE,
PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A.
The following is a complete list of his published works: --
DRAMAS. -- Every Man in his Humour, 4to, 1601; The Case is Altered, 4to,
1609; Every Man out of his Humour, 4to, 1600; Cynthia's Revels, 4to, 1601;
Poetaster, 4to, 1602; Sejanus, 4to, 1605; Eastward Ho (with Chapman and
Marston), 4to, 1605; Volpone, 4to, 1607; Epicoene, or the Silent Woman,
4to, 1609 (?), fol., 1616; The Alchemist, 4to, 1612; Catiline, his
Conspiracy, 4to, 1611; Bartholomew Fayre, 4to, 1614 (?), fol., 1631; The
Divell is an Asse, fol., 1631; The Staple of Newes, fol., 1631; The New
Sun, 8vo, 1631, fol., 1692; The Magnetic Lady, or Humours Reconcild, fol.,
1640; A Tale of a Tub, fol., 1640; The Sad Shepherd, or a Tale of Robin
Hood, fol., 1641; Mortimer his Fall (fragment), fol., 1640.
To Jonson have also been attributed additions to Kyd's Jeronymo, and
collaboration in The Widow with Fletcher and Middleton, and in the Bloody
Brother with Fletcher.
POEMS. -- Epigrams, The Forrest, Underwoods, published in fols., 1616,
1640; Selections: Execration against Vulcan, and Epigrams, 1640; G. Hor.
Flaccus his art of Poetry, Englished by Ben Jonson, 1640; Leges
Convivialis, fol., 1692. Other minor poems first appeared in Gifford's
edition of Works.
PROSE. -- Timber, or Discoveries made upon Men and Matter, fol., 1641; The
English Grammar, made by Ben Jonson for the benefit of Strangers, fol.,
1640.
Masques and Entertainments were published in the early folios.
WORKS. -- Fol., 1616, vol. 2, 1640 (1631-41); fol., 1692, 1716-19, 1729;
edited by P. Whalley, 7 vols., 1756; by Gifford (with Memoir), 9 vols.,
1816, 1846; re-edited by F. Cunningham, 3 vols., 1871; in 9 vols., 1875;by
Barry Cornwall (with Memoir), 1838; by B. Nicholson (Mermaid Series), with
Introduction by C. H. Herford, 1893, etc.; Nine Plays, 1904; ed. H. C. Hart
(Standard Library), 1906, etc; Plays and Poems, with Introduction by H.
Morley (Universal Library), 1885; Plays (7) and Poems (Newnes), 1905;
Poems, with Memoir by H. Bennett (Carlton Classics), 1907; Masques and
Entertainments, ed. by H. Morley, 1890.
SELECTIONS. -- J. A. Symonds, with Biographical and Critical Essay,
(Canterbury Poets), 1886; Grosart, Brave Translunary Things, 1895; Arber,
Jonson Anthology, 1901; Underwoods, Cambridge University Press, 1905;
Lyrics (Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher), the Chap Books, No. 4, 1906; Songs
(from Plays, Masques, etc.), with earliest known setting, Eragny Press,
1906.
LIFE. -- See Memoirs affixed to Works; J. A. Symonds (English Worthies),
1886; Notes of Ben Jonson Conversations with Drummond of Hawthornden;
Shakespeare Society, 1842; ed. with Introduction and Notes by P. Sidney,
1906; Swinburne, A Study of Ben Jonson, 1889.
CONTENTS
PAGE
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR (Italian Edition).........................1
EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR......................................57
CYNTHIA'S REVELS: OR, THE FOUNTAIN OF SELF-LOVE............... 149
THE POETASTER: OR, HIS ARRAIGNMENT.............................233
SEJANUS: HIS FALL..............................................308
VOLPONE: OR, THE FOX...........................................400
EPICOENE: OR, THE SILENT WOMAN.................................489
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR (Anglicised Edition)....................559
GLOSSARY........................................................625
----------------------------------------------
BEN JONSON'S PLAYS
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR*
[footnote] *The earlier version of the comedy is here for the first time
placed at the head of the plays. The later, superior, and more familiar
Anglicised version, follows at the end of the volume.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
LORENZO SENIOR.
PROSPERO.
THORELLO.
GIULIANO.
LORENZO JUNIOR.
STEPHANO.
DOCTOR CLEMENT
BOBADILLA.
BIANCHA.
HESPERIDA.
PETO.
MUSCO.
COB.
MATHEO.
PISO.
TIB.
ACT I
SCENE I. -- ENTER LORENZO DI PAZZI SENIOR, MUSCO.
LOR. SE. Now trust me, here's a goodly day toward.
Musco, call up my son Lorenzo; bid him rise; tell him, I have some business
to employ him in.
MUS. I will, sir, presently.
LOR. SE. But hear you, sirrah; If he be at study disturb him not.
MUS. Very good, sir.
[EXIT MUSCO.
LOR. SE. How happy would I estimate myself,
Could I by any means retire my son,
From one vain course of study he affects!
He is a scholar (if a man may trust
The liberal voice of double-tongued report)
Of dear account, in all our 'Academies'.
Yet this position must not breed in me
A fast opinion that he cannot err.
Myself was once a 'student', and indeed
Fed with the self-same humour he is now,
Dreaming on nought but idle 'Poetry';
But since, Experience hath awaked my spirits,
[ENTER STEPHANO
And reason taught them, how to comprehend
The sovereign use of study. What, cousin Stephano!
What news with you, that you are here so early?
STEP. Nothing: but e'en come to see how you do, uncle.
LOR. SE. That's kindly done; you are welcome, cousin.
STEP. Ay, I know that sir, I would not have come else: how doth my
cousin, uncle?
LOR.SE. Oh, well, well, go in and see; I doubt he's scarce stirring yet.
STEP. Uncle, afore I go in, can you tell me an he have e'er a book of the
sciences of hawking and hunting? I would fain borrow it.
LOR. SE. Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will you?
STEP. No, wusse; but I'll practise against next year; I have bought me a
hawk, and bells and all; I lack nothing but a book to keep it by.
LOR. SE. Oh, most ridiculous.
STEP. Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle, why, you know, an a man
have not skill in hawking and hunting now-a-days, I'll not give a rush for
him; he is for no gentleman's company, and (by God's will) I scorn it, ay,
so I do, to be a consort for every 'hum-drum'; hang them 'scroyles',
there's nothing in them in the world, what do you talk on it? a gentleman
must shew himself like a gentleman. Uncle, I pray you be not angry, I know
what I have to do, I trow, I am no novice.
LOR. SE. Go to, you are a prodigal, and self-willed fool.
Nay, never look at me, it's I that speak,
Take't as you will, I'll not flatter you.
What? have you not means enow to waste
That which your friends have left you, but you must
Go cast away your money on a Buzzard,
And know not how to keep it when you have done?
Oh, it's brave, this will make you a gentleman,
Well, cousin, well, I see you are e'en past hope
Of all reclaim; ay, so, now you are told on it, you look another way.
STEP. What would you have me do, trow?
LOR. What would I have you do? marry,
Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive,
That I would have you do, and not to spend
Your crowns on every one that humours you:
I would not have you to intrude yourself
In every gentleman's society,
Till their affections or your own dessert,
Do worthily invite you to the place.
For he that's so respectless in his courses,
Oft sells his reputation vile and cheap.
Let not your carriage and behaviour taste
Of affectation, lest while you pretend
To make a blaze of gentry to the world
A little puff of scorn extinguish it,
And you be left like an unsavoury snuff,
Whole property is only to offend.
Cousin, lay by such superficial forms,
And entertain a perfect real substance;
Stand not so much on your gentility,
But moderate your expenses (now at first)
As you may keep the same proportion still:
Bear a low sail. Soft, who's this comes here?
[ENTER A SERVANT.
SER. Gentlemen, God save you.
STEP. Welcome, good friend; we do not stand much upon our gentility, yet I
can assure you mine uncle is a man of a thousand pound land a year; he hath
but one son in the world; I am his next heir, as simple as I stand here, if
my cousin die. I have a fair living of mine own too beside.
SER. In good time, sir.
STEP. In good time, sir! you do not flout me, do you?
SER. Not I, sir.
STEP. An you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too.
Go to; and they can give it again soundly, an need be.
SER. Why, sir, let this satisfy you. Good faith, I had no such intent.
STEP. By God, an I thought you had, sir, I would talk with you.
SER. So you may, sir, and at your pleasure.
STEP. And so I would, sir, an you were out of mine uncle's ground, I can
tell you.
LOR. SE. Why, how now, cousin, will this ne'er be left?
STEP. Whoreson, base fellow, by God's lid, an 'twere not for shame, I would --
LOR. SE. What would you do? you peremptory ass,
An you'll not be quiet, get you hence.
You see, the gentleman contains himself
In modest limits, giving no reply
To your unseason'd rude comparatives;
Yet you'll demean yourself without respect
Either of duty or humanity.
Go, get you in: 'fore God, I am asham'd
[EXIT STEP.
Thou has a kinsman's interest in me.
SER. I pray you, sir, is this 'Pazzi' house?
LOR. SE. Yes, marry is it, sir.
SER. I should enquire for a gentleman here, one Signior Lorenzo di Pazzi;
do you know any such, sir, I pray you?
LOR.SE. Yes, sir; or else I should forget myself.
SER. I cry you mercy, sir, I was requested by a gentleman of Florence
(having some occasion to ride this way) to deliver you this letter.
LOR. SE. To me, sir? What do you mean? I pray you remember your court'sy.
"To his dear and most selected friend, Signior Lorenzo di Pazzi". What
might the gentleman's name be, sir, that sent it? Nay, pray you be covered.
SER. Signior Prospero.
LOR. SE. Signior Prospero? A young gentleman of the family of Strozzi, is
he not?
SER. Ay, sir, the same: Signior Thorello, the rich Florentine merchant
married his sister.
[ENTER MUSCO.
LOR. SE. You say very true. -- Musco.
MUS. Sir.
LOR. SE. Make this gentleman drink here.
I pray you go in, sir, an't please you.
[EXEUNT.
Now (without doubt) this letter's to my son.
Well, all is one: I'll be so bold as read it,
Be it but for the style's sake, and the phrase;
Both which (I do presume) are excellent,
And greatly varied from the vulgar form,
If Prospero's invention gave them life.
How now! what stuff is here?
"Sir Lorenzo, I muse we cannot see thee at Florence: 'Sblood, I doubt,
Apollo hath got thee to be his Ingle, that thou comest not abroad, to visit
thine old friends: well, take heed of him; he may do somewhat for his
household servants, or so; But for his Retainers, I am sure, I have known
some of them, that have followed him, three, four, five years together,
scorning the world with their bare heels, and at length been glad for a
shift (though no clean shift) to lie a whole winter, in half a sheet
cursing Charles' wain, and the rest of the stars intolerably. But (quis
contra diuos?) well; Sir, sweet villain, come and see me; but spend one
minute in my company, and 'tis enough: I think I have a world of good
jests for thee: oh, sir, I can shew thee two of the most perfect, rare and
absolute true Gulls, that ever thou saw'st, if thou wilt come. 'Sblood,
invent some famous memorable lie, or other, to flap thy Father in the mouth
withal: thou hast been father of a thousand, in thy days, thou could'st be
no Poet else: any scurvy roguish excuse will serve; say thou com'st but to
fetch wool for thine Ink-horn. And then, too, thy Father will say thy wits
are a wool-gathering. But it's no matter; the worse, the better. Any
thing is good enough for the old man. Sir, how if thy Father should see
this now? what would he think of me? Well, (how ever I write to thee) I
reverence him in my soul, for the general good all Florence delivers of
him. Lorenzo, I conjure thee (by what, let me see) by the depth of our
love, by all the strange sights we have seen in our days, (ay, or nights
either,) to come to me to Florence this day. Go to, you shall come, and
let your Muses go spin for once. If thou wilt not, 's hart, what's your
god's name? Apollo? Ay, Apollo. If this melancholy rogue (Lorenzo here)
do not come, grant, that he do turn Fool presently, and never hereafter be
able to make a good jest, or a blank verse, but live in more penury of wit
and invention, than either the Hall-Readle, or Poet Nuntius."
Well, it is the strangest letter that ever I read.
Is this the man, my son so oft hath praised
To be the happiest, and most precious wit
That ever was familiar with Art?
Now, by our Lady's blessed son, I swear,
I rather think him most unfortunate
In the possession of such holy gifts,
Being the master of so loose a spirit.
Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ
With so profane a pen unto his friend?
The modest paper e'en looks pale for grief,
To feel her virgin-check defiled and stained
With such a black and criminal inscription.
Well, I had thought my son could not have strayed
So far from judgment as to mart himself
Thus cheaply in the open trade of scorn
To jeering folly and fantastic 'humour'.
But now I see opinion is a fool,
And hath abused my senses. -- Musco.
[ENTER MUSCO.
MUS. Sir.
LOR. SE. What, is the fellow gone that brought this letter?
MUS. Yes sir, a pretty while since.
LOR. SE. And where's Lorenzo?
MUS. In his chamber, sir.
LOR. SE. He spake not with the fellow, did he?
MUS. No, sir, he saw him not.
LOR. SE. Then, Musco, take this letter, and deliver it unto Lorenzo: but,
sirrah, on your life take you no knowledge I have opened it.
MUS. O Lord, sir, that were a jest indeed.
[EXIT MUS.
LOR. SE. I am resolv'd I will not cross his journey,
Nor will I practise any violent means
To stay the hot and lusty course of youth.
For youth restrained straight grows impatient,
And, in condition, like an eager dog,
Who, ne'er so little from his game withheld,
Turns head and leaps up at his master's throat.
Therefore I'll study, by some milder drift,
To call my son unto a happier shrift.
[EXIT.
SCENE II. -- ENTER LORENZO JUNIOR, WITH MUSCO.
MUS. Yes, sir, on my word he opened it, and read the contents.
LOR. JU. It scarce contents me that he did so. But, Musco, didst thou
observe his countenance in the reading of it, whether he were angry or
pleased?
MUS. Why, sir, I saw him not read it.
LOR. JU. No? how knowest thou then that he opened it?
MUS. Marry, sir, because he charg'd me on my life to tell nobody that he
opened it, which, unless he had done, he would never fear to have it
revealed.
LOR. JU. That's true: well, Musco, hie thee in again,
Lest thy protracted absence do lend light,
[ENTER STEPHANO.
To dark suspicion: Musco, be assured
I'll not forget this thy respective love.
STEP. Oh, Musco, didst thou not see a fellow here in a what-sha-call-him
doublet; he brought mine uncle a letter even now?
MUS. Yes, sir, what of him?
STEP. Where is he, canst thou tell?
MUS. Why, he is gone.
STEP. Gone? which way? when went he? how long since?
MUS. It's almost half an hour ago since he rode hence.
STEP. Whoreson scanderbag rogue; oh that I had a horse; by God's lid, I'd
fetch him back again, with heave and ho.
MUS. Why, you may have my master's bay gelding, an you will.
STEP. But I have no boots, that's the spite on it.
MUS. Then it's no boot to follow him. Let him go and hang, sir.
STEP. Ay, by my troth; Musco, I pray thee help to truss me a little;
nothing angers me, but I have waited such a while for him all unlac'd and
untrussed yonder; and how to see he is gone the other way.
MUS. Nay, I pray you stand still, sir.
STEP. I will, I will: oh, how it vexes me.
MUS. Tut, never vex yourself with the thought of such a base fellow as he.
STEP. Nay, to see he stood upon points with me too.
MUS. Like enough so; that was because he saw you had so few at your hose.
STEP. What! Hast thou done? Godamercy, good Musco.
MUS. I marle, sir, you wear such ill-favoured coarse stockings, having so
good a leg as you have.
STEP. Foh! the stockings be good enough for this time of the year; but
I'll have a pair of silk, e'er it be long: I think my leg would shew well
in a silk hose.
MUS. Ay, afore God, would it, rarely well.
STEP. In sadness I think it would: I have a reasonable good leg?
MUS. You have an excellent good leg, sir: I pray you pardon me. I have a
little haste in, sir.
STEP. A thousand thanks, good Musco.
[EXIT.
What, I hope he laughs not at me; an he do --
LOR. JU. Here is a style indeed, for a man's senses to leap over, e'er
they come at it: why, it is able to break the shins of any old man's
patience in the world. My father read this with patience? Then will I be
made an Eunuch, and learn to sing Ballads. I do not deny, but my father
may have as much patience as any other man; for he used to take physic, and
oft taking physic makes a man a very patient creature. But, Signior
Prospero, had your swaggering Epistle here arrived in my father's hands at
such an hour of his patience, I mean, when he had taken physic, it is to be
doubted whether I should have read "sweet villain here". But, what? My
wise cousin; Nay then, I'll furnish our feast with one Gull more toward a
mess; he writes to me of two, and here's one, that's three, i'faith. Oh
for a fourth! now, Fortune, or never, Fortune!
STEP. Oh, now I see who he laughed at: he laughed at somebody in that
letter. By this good light, an he had laughed at me, I would have told
mine uncle.
LOR. JU. Cousin Stephano: good morrow, good cousin, how fare you?
STEP. The better for your asking, I will assure you. I have been all
about to seek you. Since I came I saw mine uncle; and i'faith how have you
done this great while? Good Lord, by my troth, I am glad you are well,
cousin.
LOR. JU. And I am as glad of your coming, I protest to you, for I am sent
for by a private gentleman, my most special dear friend, to come to him to
Florence this morning, and you shall go with me, cousin, if it please you,
not else, I will enjoin you no further than stands with your own consent,
and the condition of a friend.
STEP. Why, cousin, you shall command me an 'twere twice so far as
Florence, to do you good; what, do you think I will not go with you? I
protest --
LOR. JU. Nay, nay, you shall not protest
STEP. By God, but I will, sir, by your leave I'll protest more to my
friend than I'll speak of at this time.
LOR. JU. You speak very well, sir.
STEP. Nay, not so neither, but I speak to serve my turn.
LOR. JU. Your turn? why, cousin, a gentleman of so fair sort as you are,
of so true carriage, so special good parts; of so dear and choice
estimation; one whose lowest condition bears the stamp of a great spirit;
nay more, a man so graced, gilded, or rather, to use a more fit metaphor,
tinfoiled by nature; not that you have a leaden constitution, coz, although
perhaps a little inclining to that temper, and so the more apt to melt with
pity, when you fall into the fire of rage, but for your lustre only, which
reflects as bright to the world as an old ale-wife's pewter again a good
time; and will you now, with nice modesty, hide such real ornaments as
these, and shadow their glory as a milliner's wife doth her wrought
stomacher, with a smoky lawn or a black cyprus? Come, come; for shame do
not wrong the quality of your dessert in so poor a kind; but let the idea
of what you are be portrayed in your aspect, that men may read in your
looks: "Here within this place is to be seen the most admirable, rare, and
accomplished work of nature!" Cousin, what think you of this?
STEP. Marry, I do think of it, and I will be more melancholy and
gentlemanlike than I have been, I do ensure you.
LOR. JU. Why, this is well: now if I can but hold up this humour in him,
as it is begun, Catso for Florence, match him an she can. Come, cousin.
STEP. I'll follow you.
LOR. JU. Follow me! you must go before!
STEP. Must I? nay, then I pray you shew me, good cousin.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE III. -- ENTER SIGNIOR MATHEO, TO HIM COB.
MAT. I think this be the house: what ho!
COB. Who's there? oh, Signior Matheo. God give you good morrow, sir.
MAT. What? Cob? how doest thou, good Cob? does thou inhabit here, Cob?
COB. Ay, sir, I and my lineage have kept a poor house in our days.
MAT. Thy lineage, Monsieur Cob! what lineage, what lineage?
COB. Why, sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely: mine ancestry came
from a king's loins, no worse man; and yet no man neither but 'Herring' the
king of fish, one of the monarchs of the world, I assure you. I do fetch
my pedigree and name from the first red herring that was eaten in Adam and
Eve's kitchen: his 'Cob' was my great, great, mighty great grandfather.
MAT. Why mighty? why mighty?
COB. Oh, it's a mighty while ago, sir, and it was a mighty great Cob.
MAT. How knowest thou that?
COB. How know I? why, his ghost comes to me every night.
MAT. Oh, unsavoury jest: the ghost of a herring Cob.
COB. Ay, why not the ghost of a herring Cob, as well as the ghost of
Rashero Bacono, they were both broiled on the coals? you are a scholar,
upsolve me that now.
MAT. Oh, rude ignorance! Cob, canst thou shew me of a gentleman, one
Signior Bobadilla, where his lodging is?
COB. Oh, my guest, sir, you mean?
MAT. Thy guest, alas! ha, ha.
COB. Why do you laugh, sir? do you not mean Signior Bobadilla?
MAT. Cob, I pray thee advise thyself well: do not wrong the gentleman,
and thyself too. I dare be sworn he scorns thy house; he! he lodge in
such a base obscure place as thy house? Tut, I know his disposition so
well, he would not lie in thy bed if thou'dst give it him.
COB. I will not give it him. Mass, I thought somewhat was in it, we could
not get him to bed all night. Well sir, though he lie not on my bed, he
lies on my bench, an't please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with
two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrapt about him, as though he
had neither won nor lost, and yet I warrant he ne'er cast better in his
life than he hath done to-night.
MAT. Why, was he drunk?
COB. Drunk, sir? you hear not me say so; perhaps he swallow'd a tavern
token, or some such device, sir; I have nothing to do withal: I deal with
water and not with wine. Give me my tankard there, ho! God be with you,
sir; it's six o'clock: I should have carried two turns by this, what ho!
my stopple, come.
MAT. Lie in a water-bearer's house, a gentleman of his note? Well, I'll
tell him my mind.
[EXIT.
COB. What, Tib, shew this gentleman up to Signior Bobadilla: oh, an my
house were the Brazen head now, faith it would e'en cry moe fools yet: you
should have some now, would take him to be a gentleman at least; alas, God
help the simple, his father's an honest man, a good fishmonger, and so
forth: and now doth he creep and wriggle into acquaintance with all the
brave gallants and they flout him invincibly. He useth every day to a
merchant's house, (where I serve water) one M. Thorello's; and here's the
jest, he is in love with my master's sister, and calls her mistress: and
there he sits a whole afternoon sometimes, reading of these same
abominable, vile, (a pox on them, I cannot abide them!) rascally verses,
Poetry, poetry, and speaking of 'Interludes', 'twill make a man burst to
hear him: and the wenches, they do so jeer and tihe at him; well, should
they do as much to me, I'd forswear them all, by the life of Pharaoh,
there's an oath: how many water-bearers shall you hear swear such an oath?
oh, I have a guest, (he teacheth me) he doth swear the best of any man
christened. By Phoebus, By the life of Pharaoh, By the body of me, As I am
gentleman, and a soldier: such dainty oaths; and withal he doth take this
same filthy roguish tobacco, the finest and cleanliest; it would do a man
good to see the fume come forth at his nostrils: well, he owes me forty
shillings, (my wife lent him out of her purse; by sixpence a time,) besides
his lodging; I would I had it: I shall have it, he saith, next Action.
Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care will kill a cat, up-tails all, and a pox
on the hangman.
[EXIT.
[BOBADILLA DISCOVERS HIMSELF; ON A BENCH; TO HIM TIB.
BOB. Hostess, hostess.
TIB. What say you, sir?
BOB. A cup of your small beer, sweet hostess.
TIB. Sir, there's a gentleman below would speak with you.
BOB. A gentleman? (God's so) I am not within.
TIB. My husband told him you were, sir.
BOB. What a plague! what meant he?
MAT. Signior Bobadilla.
[MATHEO WITHIN.
BOB. Who's there? (take away the bason, good hostess) come up, sir.
TIB. He would desire you to come up, sir; you come into a cleanly house here.
MAT. God save you, sir, God save you.
[ENTER MATHEO.
BOB. Signior Matheo, is't you, sir? please you sit down.
MAT. I thank you, good Signior, you may see I am somewhat audacious.
BOB. Not so, Signior, I was requested to supper yesternight by a sort of
gallants, where you were wished for, and drunk to, I assure you.
MAT. Vouchsafe me by whom, good Signior.
BOB. Marry, by Signior Prospero, and others; why, hostess, a stool here
for this gentleman.
MAT. No haste, sir, it is very well.
BOB. Body of me, it was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce
open mine eyes yet; I was but new risen as you came; how passes the day
abroad, sir? you can tell.
MAT. Faith, some half hour to seven: now trust me, you have an exceeding
fine lodging here, very neat, and private.
BOB. Ay, sir, sit down. I pray you, Signior Matheo, in any case possess
no gentlemen of your acquaintance with notice of my lodging.
MAT. Who? I, sir? no.
BOB. Not that I need to care who know it, but in regard I would not be so
popular and general as some be.
MAT. True, Signior, I conceive you.
BOB. For do you see, sir, by the heart of myself, (except it be to some
peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as
yourself, or so,) I could not extend thus far.
MAT. O Lord, sir! I resolve so.
BOB. What new book have you there? What? 'Go by Hieronymo'.
MAT. Ay, did you ever see it acted? is't not well penned?
BOB. Well penned: I would fain see all the Poets of our time pen such
another play as that was; they'll prate and swagger, and keep a stir of art
and devices, when (by God's so) they are the most shallow, pitiful fellows
that live upon the face of the earth again.
MAT. Indeed, here are a number of fine speeches in this book: "Oh eyes,
no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;" there's a conceit: Fountains
fraught with tears. "Oh life, no life, but lively form of death;" is't not
excellent? "Oh world, no world, but mass of public wrongs;" O God's me:
"confused and filled with murder and misdeeds." Is't not simply the best
that ever you heard?
Ha, how do you like it?
BOB. 'Tis good.
MAT. "To thee, the purest object to my sense,
The most refined essence heaven covers,
Send I these lines, wherein I do commence
The happy state of true deserving lovers.
If they prove rough, unpolish'd, harsh, and rude,
Haste made that waste; thus mildly I conclude."
BOB. Nay, proceed, proceed, where's this? where's this?
MAT. This, sir, a toy of mine own in my non-age: but when will you come
and see my study? good faith, I can shew you some very good things I have
done of late: that boot becomes your leg passing well, sir, methinks.
BOB. So, so, it's a fashion gentlemen use.
MAT. Mass, sir, and now you speak of the fashion, Signior Prospero's elder
brother and I are fallen out exceedingly: this other day I happened to
enter into some discourse of a hanger, which, I assure you, both for
fashion and workmanship was most beautiful and gentlemanlike; yet he
condemned it for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw.
BOB. Signior Giuliano, was it not? the elder brother?
MAT. Ay, sir, he.
BOB. Hang him, rook! he! why, he has no more judgment than a malt-horse.
By St. George, I hold him the most peremptory absurd clown (one a them) in
Christendom: I protest to you (as I am a gentleman and a soldier) I ne'er
talk'd with the like of him: he has not so much as a good word in his
belly, all iron, iron, a good commodity for a smith to make hob-nails on.
MAT. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still where he
comes: he brags he will give me the bastinado, as I hear.
BOB. How, the bastinado? how came he by that word, trow?
MAT. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I termed it so for the more grace.
BOB. That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word: but when, when
said he so?
MAT. Faith, yesterday, they say, a young gallant, a friend of mine, told
me so.
BOB. By the life of Pharaoh, an't were my case now, I should send him a
challenge presently: the bastinado! come hither, you shall challenge him;
I'll shew you a trick or two, you shall kill him at pleasure, the first
'stoccado' if you will, by this air.
MAT. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge in the mystery, I have heard, sir.
BOB. Of whom? of whom, I pray?
MAT. Faith, I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare
skill, sir.
BOB. By heaven, no, not I, no skill in the earth: some small science,
know my time, distance, or so, I have profest it more for noblemen and
gentlemen's use than mine own practise, I assure you. Hostess, lend us
another bed-staff here quickly: look you, sir, exalt not your point above
this state at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence thus:
give it the gentleman. So, sir, come on, oh, twine your body more about,
that you may come to a more sweet comely gentlemanlike guard; so
indifferent. Hollow your body more, sir, thus: now stand fast on your
left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time: oh, yes
disorder your point most vilely.
MAT. How is the bearing of it now, sir?
BOB. Oh, out of measure ill, a well-experienced man would pass upon you at
pleasure.
MAT. How mean you pass upon me?
BOB. Why, thus, sir: make a thrust at me; come in upon my time; control
your point, and make a full career at the body: the best-practis'd
gentlemen of the time term it the 'passado', a most desperate thrust,
believe it.
MAT. Well, come, sir.
BOB. Why, you do not manage your weapons with that facility and grace that
you should do, I have no spirit to play with you, your dearth of judgment
makes you seem tedious.
MAT. But one venue, sir.
BOB. Fie! venue, most gross denomination as ever I heard: oh, the
'stoccado' while you live, Signior, not that. Come, put on your cloak, and
we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted, some tavern or so,
and we'll send for one of these fencers, where he shall breathe you at my
direction, and then I'll teach you that trick; you shall kill him with it
at the first if you please: why, I'll learn you by the true judgment of
the eye, hand, and foot, to control any man's point in the world; Should
your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, you should (by
the same rule) control the bullet, most certain, by Phoebus: unless it
were hail-shot: what money have you about you, sir?
MAT. Faith, I have not past two shillings, or so.
BOB. 'Tis somewhat with the least, but come, when we have done, we'll call
up Signior Prospero; perhaps we shall meet with Coridon his brother there.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE IV. -- ENTER THORELLO, GIULIANO, PISO.
THO. Piso, come hither: there lies a note within, upon my desk; here,
take my key: it's no matter neither, where's the boy?
PIS. Within, sir, in the warehouse.
THO. Let him tell over that Spanish gold, and weigh it, and do you see the
delivery of those wares to Signior Bentivole: I'll be there myself at the
receipt of the money anon.
PIS. Very good, sir.
[EXIT PISO.
THO. Brother, did you see that same fellow there?
GIU. Ay, what of him?
THO. He is e'en the honestest, faithful servant that is this day in
Florence; (I speak a proud word now;) and one that I durst trust my life
into his hands, I have so strong opinion of his love, if need were.
GIU. God send me never such need: but you said you had somewhat to tell
me, what is't?
THO. Faith, brother, I am loath to utter it,
As fearing to abuse your patience,
But that I know your judgment more direct,
Able to sway the nearest of affection.
GIU. Come, come, what needs this circumstance?
THO. I will not say what honour I ascribe
Unto your friendship, nor in what dear state
I hold your love; let my continued zeal,
The constant and religious regard,
That I have ever carried to your name,
My carriage with your sister, all contest,
How much I stand affected to your house.
GIU. You are too tedious, come to the matter, come to the matter.
THO. Then (without further ceremony) thus.
My brother Prospero (I know not how)
Of late is much declined from what he was,
And greatly alter'd in his disposition.
When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne'er trust me, if I was not proud of him:
Methought he bare himself with such observance,
So true election and so fair a form:
And (what was chief) it shew'd not borrow'd in him,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seem'd as perfect, proper, and innate,
Unto the mind, as colour to the blood,
But now, his course is so irregular,
So loose affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fallen off
From his first place, that scarce no note remains,
To tell men's judgments where he lately stood;
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends, and not content
To stale himself in all societies,
He makes my house as common as a Mart,
A Theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour, and diseased riot,
And there, (as in a tavern, or a stews,)
He, and his wild associates, spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, and dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants: and indeed what not?
GIU. Faith, I know not what I should say to him: so God save me, I am
e'en at my wits' end, I have told him enough, one would think, if that
would serve: well, he knows what to trust to for me: let him spend, and
spend, and domineer till his heart ache: an he get a penny more of me,
I'll give him this ear.
THO. Nay, good brother, have patience.
GIU. 'Sblood, he made me, I could eat my very flesh for anger: I marle
you will not tell him of it, how he disquiets your house.
THO. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade me,
But would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it,
(Though but with plain and easy circumstance,)
It would both come much better to his sense,
And savour less of grief and discontent.
You are his elder brother, and that title
Confirms and warrants your authority:
Which (seconded by your aspect) will breed
A kind of duty in him, and regard.
Whereas, if I should intimate the least,
It would but add contempt to his neglect,
Heap worse on ill, rear a huge pile of hate,
That in the building would come tottering down,
And in her ruins bury all our love.
Nay, more than this, brother; if I should speak,
He would be ready in the heat of passion,
To fill the ears of his familiars,
With oft reporting to them, what disgrace
And gross disparagement I had proposed him.
And then would they straight back him in opinion,
Make some loose comment upon every word,
And out of their distracted phantasies,
Contrive some slander, that should dwell with me.
And what would that be, think you? marry, this,
They would give out, (because my wife is fair,
Myself but lately married, and my sister
Here sojourning a virgin in my house,)
That I were jealous: nay, as sure as death,
Thus they would say: and how that I had wrong'd
My brother purposely, thereby to find
An apt pretext to banish them my house.
GIU. Mass, perhaps so.
THO. Brother, they would, believe it: so should I
(Like one of these penurious quack-salvers)
But try experiments upon myself,
Open the gates unto mine own disgrace,
Lend bare-ribb'd envy opportunity
To stab my reputation, and good name.
[ENTER BOBA. AND MAT.
MAT. I will speak to him.
BOB. Speak to him? away, by the life of Pharaoh, you shall not, you shall
not do him that grace: the time of day to you, gentlemen: is Signior
Prospero stirring?
GIU. How then? what should he do?
BOB. Signior Thorello, is he within sir?
THO. He came not to his lodging to-night, sir, I assure you.
GIU. Why, do you hear? you.
BOB. This gentleman hath satisfied me, I'll talk to no Scavenger.
GIU. How, Scavenger? stay, sir, stay.
[EXEUNT.
THO. Nay, brother Giuliano.
GIU. 'Sblood, stand you away, an you love me.
THO. You shall not follow him now, I pray you,
Good faith, you shall not.
GIU. Ha! Scavenger! well, go to, I say little, but, by this good day,
(God forgive me I should swear) if I put it up so, say I am the rankest --
that ever pist. 'Sblood, an I swallow this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in
the sight of man again while I live; I'll sit in a barn with Madge-owlet
first. Scavenger! 'Heart, and I'll go near to fill that huge tumbrel slop
of yours with somewhat, as I have good luck, your Gargantua breech cannot
carry it away so.
THO. Oh, do not fret yourself thus, never think on't.
GIU. These are my brother's consorts, these, these are his Comrades, his
walking mates, he's a gallant, a Cavaliero too, right hangman cut. God let
me not live, an I could not find in my heart to swinge the whole next of
them, one after another, and begin with him first, I am grieved it should
be said he is my brother, and take these courses, well, he shall hear on't,
and that tightly too, an I live, i'faith.
THO. But, brother, let your apprehension (then)
Run in an easy current, not transported
With heady rashness, or devouring choler,
And rather carry a persuading spirit,
Whose powers will pierce more gently; and allure
Th' imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim,
To a more sudden and resolved assent.
GIU. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.
[BELL RINGS.
THO. How now! oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
Brother Giuliano, I pray you go in and bear my wife company: I'll but give
order to my servants for the dispatch of some business, and come to you
presently.
[EXIT GIU.
[ENTER COB.
What, Cob! our maids will have you by the back (i'faith)
For coming so late this morning.
COB. Perhaps so, sir, take heed somebody have not them by the belly for
walking so late in the evening.
[EXIT.
THO. Now (in good faith) my mind is somewhat eased,
Though not reposed in that security
As I could wish; well, I must be content,
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Would I had lost this finger at a vent,
So Prospero had ne'er lodged in my house,
Why't cannot be, where there is such resort
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
The sovereign state of chastity unscarr'd,
When such strong motives muster, and make head
Against her single peace? no, no: beware
When mutual pleasure sways the appetite,
And spirits of one kind and quality,
Do meet to parley in the pride of blood.
Well, (to be plain) if I but thought the time
Had answer'd their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold:
Marry, I hope they have not got that start.
For opportunity hath balk'd them yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
To attend the imposition of my heart:
My presence shall be as an iron bar,
'Twixt the conspiring motions of desire,
Yea, every look or glance mine eye objects,
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave,
[ENTER BIANCHA WITH HESPERIDA.
When he forgets the limits of prescription.
BIA. Sister Hesperida, I pray you fetch down the rose-water above in the
closet: Sweet-heart, will you come in to breakfast?
THO. An she have overheard me now?
[EXIT HESPERIDA.
BIA. I pray thee, (good Muss) we stay for you.
THO. By Christ, I would not for a thousand crowns.
BIA. What ail you, sweet-heart? are you not well? speak, good Muss.
THO. Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.
BIA. Oh Jesu!
THO. How now! what!
BIA. Good Lord, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth, it is this
new disease, there's a number are troubled withall for God's sake,
sweet-heart, come in out of the air.
THO. How simple, and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it.
Why true, she heard me all the world to nothing.
BIA. I pray thee, good sweet-heart, come in; the air will do you harm, in
troth.
THO. I'll come to you presently, it will away, I hope.
BIA. Pray God it do.
[EXIT.
THO. A new disease! I know not, new or old,
But it may well be call'd poor mortals' Plague;
For like a pestilence it doth infect
The houses of the brain: first it begins
Solely to work upon the phantasy,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air,
As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence,
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each of other catching the infection,
Which as a searching vapour spreads itself
Confusedly through every sensive part,
Till not a thought or motion in the mind
Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah, but what error is it to know this,
And want the free election of the soul
In such extremes! well, I will once more strive
(Even in despite of hell) myself to be,
And shake this fever off that thus shakes me.
[EXIT.
----------------------------------------------
ACT II
SCENE I. -- ENTER MUSCO, DISGUISED LIKE A SOLDIER.
MUS. 'Sblood, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated thus,
from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an intolerable
sort of lies, or else my profession loses his grace, and yet the lie to a
man of my coat is as ominous as the Fico, oh sir, it holds for good policy
to have that outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most dear to
us: So much for my borrowed shape. Well, the troth is, my master intends
to follow his son dry-foot to Florence, this morning: now I, knowing of
this conspiracy, and the rather to insinuate with my young master, (for so
must we that are blue waiters, or men of service do, or else perhaps we may
wear motley at the year's end, and who wears motley you know:) I have got
me afore in this disguise, determining here to lie in ambuscado, and
intercept him in the midway; if I can but get his cloak, his purse, his
hat, nay, anything so I can stay his journey, 'Rex Regum', I am made for
ever, i'faith: well, now must I practise to get the true garb of one of
these 'Lance-knights; my arm here, and my -- God's so, young master and his
cousin.
LOR. JU. So, sir, and how then?
[ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.
STEP. God's foot, I have lost my purse, I think.
LOR. JU. How? lost your purse? where? when had you it?
STEP. I cannot tell, stay.
MUS. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me, would I could get by them.
LOR. JU. What! have you it?
STEP. No, I think I was bewitched, I.
LOR. JU. Nay, do not weep, a pox on it, hang it, let it go.
STEP. Oh, it's here; nay, an it had been lost, I had not cared but for a
jet ring Marina sent me.
LOR. JU. A jet ring! oh, the poesie, the poesie!
STEP. Fine, i'faith: "Though fancy sleep, my love is deep": meaning that
though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.
LOR. JU. Most excellent.
STEP. And then I sent her another, and my poesie was: "The deeper the
sweeter, I'll be judged by Saint Peter".
LOR. JU. How, by St. Peter? I do not conceive that.
STEP. Marry, St. Peter to make up the metre.
LOR JU. Well, you are beholding to that Saint, he help'd you at your need;
thank him, thank him.
MUS. I will venture, come what will: Gentlemen, please you change a few
crowns for a very excellent good blade here; I am a poor gentleman, a
soldier, one that (in the better state of my fortunes) scorned so mean a
refuge, but now it's the humour of necessity to have it so: you seem to
be, gentlemen, well affected to martial men, else I should rather die with
silence, than live with shame: howe'er, vouchsafe to remember it is my
want speaks, not myself: this condition agrees not with my spirit.
LOR. JU. Where hast thou served?
MUS. May it please you, Signior, in all the provinces of Bohemia, Hungaria,
Dalmatia, Poland, where not? I have been a poor servitor by sea and land,
any time this xiiij. years, and follow'd the fortunes of the best
Commanders in Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of Aleppo, once
at the relief of Vienna; I have been at America in the galleys thrice,
where I was most dangerously shot in the head, through both the thighs, and
yet, being thus maim'd I am void of maintenance, nothing left me but my
scars, the noted marks of my resolution.
STEP. How will you sell this rapier, friend?
MUS. Faith, Signior, I refer it to your own judgment; you are a gentleman,
give me what you please.
STEP. True, I am a gentleman, I know that; but what though, I pray you
say, what would you ask?
MUS. I assure you the blade may become the side of the best prince in Europe.
LOR. JU. Ay, with a velvet scabbard.
STEP. Nay, an't be mine it shall have a velvet scabbard, that is flat, I'd
not wear it as 'tis an you would give me an angel.
MUS. At your pleasure, Signior, nay, it's a most pure Toledo.
STEP. I had rather it were a Spaniard: but tell me, what shall I give you
for it? an it had a silver hilt --
LOR. JU. Come, come, you shall not buy it; hold, there's a shilling,
friend, take thy rapier.
STEP. Why, but I will buy it now, because you say so: what, shall I go
without a rapier?
LOR. JU. You may buy one in the city.
STEP. Tut, I'll buy this, so I will; tell me your lowest price.
LOR. JU. You shall not, I say.
STEP. By God's lid, but I will, though I give more than 'tis worth.
LOR. JU. Come away, you are a fool.
STEP. Friend, I'll have it for that word: follow me.
MUS. At your service, Signior.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE II. -- ENTER LORENZO SENIOR.
LOR. SE. My labouring spirit being late opprest
With my son's folly, can embrace no rest
Till it hath plotted by advice and skill,
How to reduce him from affected will
To reason's manage; which while I intend,
My troubled soul begins to apprehend
A farther secret, and to meditate
Upon the difference of man's estate:
Where is decipher'd to true judgment's eye
A deep, conceal'd, and precious mystery.
Yet can I not but worthily admire
At nature's art: who (when she did inspire
This beat of life) placed Reason (as a king)
Here in the head, to have the marshalling
Of our affections: and with sovereignty
To sway the state of our weak empery.
But as in divers commonwealths we see,
The form of government to disagree:
Even so in man, who searcheth soon shall find
As much or more variety of mind.
Some men's affections like a sullen wife,
Is with her husband reason still at strife.
Others (like proud arch-traitors that rebel
Against their sovereign) practise to expel
Their liege Lord Reason, and not shame to tread
Upon his holy and anointed head.
But as that land or nation best doth thrive,
Which to smooth-fronted peace is most proclive,
So doth that mind, whose fair affections ranged
By reason's rules, stand constant and unchanged,
Else, if the power of reason be not such,
Why do we attribute to him so much?
Or why are we obsequious to his law,
If he want spirit our affects to awe?
Oh no, I argue weakly, he is strong,
Albeit my son have done him too much wrong.
[ENTER MUSCO.
MUS. My master: nay, faith, have at you: I am flesh'd now I have sped so
well: Gentleman, I beseech you respect the estate of a poor soldier; I am
ashamed of this base course of life, (God's my comfort) but extremity
provokes me to't; what remedy?
LOR. SE. I have not for you now.
MUS. By the faith I bear unto God, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom,
but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been, a man I
may be, by your sweet bounty.
LOR. SE. I pray thee, good friend, be satisfied.
MUS. Good Signior: by Jesu, you may do the part of a kind gentleman, in
lending a poor soldier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of small
value, the King of heaven shall pay you, and I shall rest thankful: sweet
Signior --
LOR. SE. Nay, an you be so importunate --
MUS. O Lord, sir, need will have his course: I was not made to this vile
use; well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much: it's
hard when a man hath served in his Prince's cause and be thus. Signior,
let me derive a small piece of silver from you, it shall not be given in
the course of time, by this good ground, I was fain to pawn my rapier last
night for a poor supper, I am a Pagan else: sweet Signior --
LOR. SE. Believe me, I am rapt with admiration,
To think a man of thy exterior presence
Should (in the constitution of the mind)
Be so degenerate, infirm, and base.
Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg?
To practise such a servile kind of life?
Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,
Having thy limbs? a thousand fairer courses
Offer themselves to thy election.
Nay, there the wars might still supply thy wants,
Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
Or honest labour; nay, what can I name,
But would become thee better than to beg?
But men of your condition feed on sloth,
As doth the Scarab on the dung she breeds in,
Not caring how the temper of your spirits
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.
Now, afore God, whate'er he be that should
Relieve a person of thy quality,
While you insist in this loose desperate course,
I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.
MUS. Faith, Signior, I would gladly find some other course, if so.
LOR. SE. Ay, you'd gladly find it, but you will not seek it.
MUS. Alas, sir, where should a man seek? in the wars, there's no ascent
by desert in these days, but -- and for service, would it were as soon
purchased as wish'd for, (God's my comfort) I know what I would say.
LOR. SE. What's thy name?
MUS. Please you: Portensio.
LOR. SE. Portensio?
Say that a man should entertain thee now,
Would thou be honest, humble, just, and true?
MUS. Signior: by the place and honour of a soldier --
LOR. SE. Nay, nay, I like not these affected oaths;
Speak plainly, man: what thinkst thou of my words?
MUS. Nothing, Signior, but wish my fortunes were as happy as my service
should be honest.
LOR. SE. Well, follow me, I'll prove thee, if thy deeds
Will carry a proportion to thy words.
[EXIT LOR. SE.
MUS. Yes, sir, straight, I'll but garter my hose; oh, that my belly were
hoop'd now, for I am ready to burst with laughing. 'Slid, was there ever
seen a fox in years to betray himself thus? now shall I be possest of all
his determinations, and consequently my young master; well, he is resolved
to prove my honesty: faith, and I am resolved to prove his patience: oh,
I shall abuse him intolerably: this small piece of service will bring him
clean out of love with the soldier for ever. It's no matter, let the world
think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant;
why, this is better than to have stayed his journey by half: well, I'll
follow him. Oh, how I long to be employed.
[EXIT.
SCENE III. -- ENTER PROSPERO, BOBADILLA, AND MATHEO.
MAT. Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too.
PROS. Oh, I came not there to-night.
BOB. Your brother delivered us as much.
PROS. Who, Giuliano?
BOB. Giuliano. Signior Prospero, I know not in what kind you value me,
but let me tell you this: as sure as God, I do hold it so much out of mine
honour and reputation, if I should but cast the least regard upon such a
dunghill of flesh; I protest to you (as I have a soul to be saved) I ne'er
saw any gentlemanlike part in him: an there were no more men living upon
the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by Phoebus.
MAT. Troth, nor I, he is of a rustical cut, I know not how: he doth not
carry himself like a gentleman.
PROS. Oh, Signior Matheo, that's a grace peculiar but to a few; "quos
oequus amavit Jupiter".
MAT. I understand you, sir.
[ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.
PROS. No question you do, sir: Lorenzo! now on my soul, welcome; how
dost thou, sweet rascal? my Genius! 'Sblood, I shall love Apollo and the
mad Thespian girls the better while I live for this; my dear villain, now I
see there's some spirit in thee: Sirrah, these be they two I writ to thee
of, nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? why dost thou not speak?
LOR. JU. Oh, you are a fine gallant, you sent me a rare letter.
PROS. Why, was't not rare?
LOR. JU. Yes, I'll be sworn I was ne'er guilty of reading the like, match
it in all Pliny's familiar Epistles, and I'll have my judgment burn'd in
the ear for a rogue, make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I
marle what camel it was, that had the carriage of it? for doubtless he was
no ordinary beast that brought it.
PROS. Why?
LOR. JU. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't
now: but I'll assure you, my father had the proving of your copy some hour
before I saw it.
PROS. What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith?
LOR. JU. Nay, I know not what he said. But I have a shrewd guess what he
thought.
PRO. What? what?
LOR. JU. Marry, that thou are a damn'd dissolute villain,
And I some grain or two better, in keeping thee company.
PROS. Tut, that thought is like the moon in the last quarter, 'twill
change shortly: but, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two Zanies
here, thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in them if thou bear'st them once,
but what strange piece of silence is this? the sign of the dumb man?
LOR. JU. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make our music the
fuller, an he please he hath his humour, sir.
PROS. Oh, what is't? what is't?
LOR. JU. Nay, I'll neither do thy judgment nor his folly that wrong, as to
prepare thy apprehension: I'll leave him to the mercy of the time, if you
can take him: so.
PROS. Well, Signior Bobadilla, Signior Matheo: I pray you know this
gentleman here, he is a friend of mine, and one that will well deserve your
affection, I know not your name, Signior, but I shall be glad of any good
occasion to be more familiar with you.
STEP. My name is Signior Stephano, sir, I am this gentleman's cousin, sir,
his father is mine uncle; sir, I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall
command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.
BOB. Signior, I must tell you this, I am no general man, embrace it as a
most high favour, for (by the host of Egypt) but that I conceive you to be
a gentleman of some parts, I love few words: you have wit: imagine.
STEP. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy.
MAT. O Lord, sir, it's your only best humour, sir, your true melancholy
breeds your perfect fine wit, sir: I am melancholy myself divers times,
sir, and then do I no more but take your pen and paper presently, and write
you your half score or your dozen of sonnets at a sitting.
LOR. JU. Mass, then he utters them by the gross.
STEP. Truly, sir, and I love such things out of measure.
LOR. JU. I'faith, as well as in measure.
MAT. Why, I pray you, Signior, make use of my study, it's at your service.
STEP. I thank you, sir, I shall be bold, I warrant you, have you a close
stool there?
MAT. Faith, sir, I have some papers there, toys of mine own doing at idle
hours, that you'll say there's some sparks of wit in them, when you shall
see them.
PROS. Would they were kindled once, and a good fire made, I might see
self-love burn'd for her heresy.
STEP. Cousin, is it well? am I melancholy enough?
LOR. JU. Oh, ay, excellent.
PROS. Signior Bobadilla, why muse you so?
LOR. JU. He is melancholy too.
BOB. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was
perform'd to-morrow, being St. Mark's day, shall be some ten years.
LOR. JU. In what place was that service, I pray you, sir?
BOB. Why, at the beleaguering of Ghibelletto, where, in less than two
hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen, as any were in Europe, lost their
lives upon the breach: I'll tell you, gentlemen, it was the first, but the
best leaguer that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking in of
Tortosa last year by the Genoways, but that (of all other) was the most
fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in, since I first bore
arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and a soldier.
STEP. So, I had as lief as an angel I could swear as well as that gentleman.
LOR. JU. Then you were a servitor at both, it seems.
BOB. O Lord, sir: by Phaeton, I was the first man that entered the
breach, and had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I
had had a million of lives.
LOR. JU. Indeed, sir?
STEP. Nay, an you heard him discourse you would say so: how like you him?
BOB. I assure you (upon my salvation) 'tis true, and yourself shall confess.
PROS. You must bring him to the rack first.
BOB. Observe me judicially, sweet Signior: they had planted me a
demi-culverin just in the mouth of the breach; now, sir, (as we were to
ascend), their master gunner (a man of no mean skill and courage, you must
think,) confronts me with his linstock ready to give fire; I spying his
intendment, discharged my petronel in his bosom, and with this instrument,
my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance, and
put them pell-mell to the sword.
PROS. To the sword? to the rapier, Signior.
LOR. JU. Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir: but did you all this,
Signior, without hurting your blade?
BOB. Without any impeach on the earth: you shall perceive, sir, it is the
most fortunate weapon that ever rid on a poor gentleman's thigh: shall I
tell you, sir? you talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindana, or so: tut, I
lend no credit to that is reported of them, I know the virtue of mine own,
and therefore I dare the boldlier maintain it.
STEP. I marle whether it be a Toledo or no?
BOB. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, Signior.
STEP. I have a countryman of his here.
MAT. Pray you let's see, sir: yes, faith, it is.
BOB. This a Toledo? pish!
STEP. Why do you pish, Signior?
BOB. A Fleming, by Phoebus! I'll buy them for a guilder a piece, an I'll
have a thousand of them.
LOR. JU. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much.
PROS. Where bought you it, Signior?
STEP. Of a scurvy rogue soldier, a pox of God on him, he swore it was a
Toledo.
BOB. A preovant rapier, no better.
MAT. Mass, I think it be indeed.
LOR. JU. Tut, now it's too late to look on it, put it up, put it up.
STEP. Well, I will not put it up, but by God's foot, an ever I meet him -
PROS. Oh, it is past remedy now, sir, you must have patience.
STEP. Whoreson, coney-catching rascal; oh, I could eat the very hilts for
anger.
LOR. JU. A sign you have a good ostrich stomach, cousin.
STEP. A stomach? would I had him here, you should see an I had a stomach.
PROS. It's better as 'tis: come, gentlemen, shall we go?
LOR. JU. A miracle, cousin, look here, look here.
[ENTER MUSCO.
STEP. Oh, God's lid, by your leave, do you know me, sir?
MUS. Ay, sir, I know you by sight.
STEP. You sold me a rapier, did you not?
MUS. Yes, marry did I, sir.
STEP. You said it was a Toledo, ha?
MUS. True, I did so.
STEP. But it is none.
MUS. No, sir, I confess it, it is none.
STEP. Gentlemen, bear witness, he has confest it. By God's lid, an you
had not confest it --
LOR. JU. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.
STEP. Nay, I have done, cousin.
PROS. Why, you have done like a gentleman, he has confest it, what would
you more?
LOR. JU. Sirrah, how dost thou like him?
PROS. Oh, it's a precious good fool, make much on him: I can compare him
to nothing more happily than a barber's virginals; for every one may play
upon him.
MUS. Gentleman, shall I intreat a word with you?
LOR. JU. With all my heart, sir, you have not another Toledo to sell, have
you?
MUS. You are pleasant, your name is Signior Lorenzo, as I take it?
LOR. JU. You are in the right: 'Sblood, he means to catechise me, I think.
MUS. No, sir, I leave that to the Curate, I am none of that coat.
LOR. JU. And yet of as bare a coat; well, say, sir.
MUS. Faith, Signior, I am but servant to God Mars extraordinary, and
indeed (this brass varnish being washed off, and three or four other tricks
sublated) I appear yours in reversion, after the decease of your good
father, Musco.
LOR. JU. Musco, 'sblood, what wind hath blown thee hither in this shape?
MUS. Your easterly wind, sir, the same that blew your father hither.
LOR. JU. My father?
MUS. Nay, never start, it's true, he is come to town of purpose to seek you.
LOR. JU. Sirrah Prospero, what shall we do, sirrah? my father is come to
the city.
PROS. Thy father: where is he?
MUS. At a gentleman's house yonder by St. Anthony's, where he but stays my
return; and then --
PROS. Who's this? Musco?
MUS. The same, sir.
PROS. Why, how com'st thou transmuted thus?
MUS. Faith, a device, a device, nay, for the love of God, stand not here,
gentlemen, house yourselves, and I'll tell you all.
LOR. JU. But are thou sure he will stay thy return?
MUS. Do I live, sir? what a question is that!
PROS. Well, we'll prorogue his expectation a little: Musco, thou shalt go
with us: Come on, gentlemen: nay, I pray thee, (good rascal) droop not,
'sheart, an our wits be so gouty, that one old plodding brain can outstrip
us all. Lord, I beseech thee, may they lie and starve in some miserable
spittle, where they may never see the face of any true spirit again, but be
perpetually haunted with some church-yard hobgoblin in seculo seculorum
MUS. Amen, Amen.
[EXEUNT.
----------------------------------------------
ACT III
SCENE I. -- ENTER THORELLO, AND PISO.
PIS. He will expect you, sir, within this half hour.
THO. Why, what's a clock?
PIS. New stricken ten.
THO. Hath he the money ready, can you tell?
PIS. Yes, sir, Baptista brought it yesternight.
THO. Oh, that's well: fetch me my cloak.
[EXIT PISO.
Stay, let me see; an hour to go and come,
Ay, that will be the least: and then 'twill be
An hour before I can dispatch with him;
Or very near: well, I will say two hours;
Two hours? ha! things never dreamt of yet
May be contrived, ay, and effected too,
In two hours' absence: well, I will not go.
Two hours; no, fleering opportunity,
I will not give your treachery that scope.
Who will not judge him worthy to be robb'd,
That sets his doors wide open to a thief,
And shews the felon where his treasure lies?
Again, what earthy spirit but will attempt
To taste the fruit of beauty's golden tree,
When leaden sleep seals up the dragon's eyes?
Oh, beauty is a project of some power,
Chiefly when opportunity attends her:
She will infuse true motion in a stone,
Put glowing fire in an icy soul,
Stuff peasants' bosoms with proud Caesar's spleen,
Pour rich device into an empty brain:
Bring youth to folly's gate: there train him in,
And after all, extenuate his sin.
Well, I will not go, I am resolved for that.
Go, carry it again: yet stay: yet do too,
I will defer it till some other time.
[ENTER PISO.
PIS. Sir. Signior Platano will meet you there with the bond.
THO. That's true: by Jesu, I had clean forgot it.
I must go, what's a clock?
PIS. Past ten, sir.
THO. 'Heart, then will Prospero presently be here too,
With one or other of his loose consorts.
I am a Jew if I know what to say,
What course to take, or which way to resolve.
My brain (methinks) is like an hour-glass,
And my imaginations like the sands
Run dribbling forth to fill the mouth of time,
Still changed with turning in the ventricle.
What were I best to do? it shall be so.
Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy. Piso.
PIS. Sir.
THO. Yet now I have bethought me too, I will not.
Is Cob within?
PIS. I think he be, sir.
THO. But he'll prate too, there's no talk of him.
No, there were no course upon the earth to this,
If I durst trust him; tut, I were secure,
But there's the question now, if he should prove,
'Rimarum plenus', then, 'sblood, I were rook'd.
The state that he hath stood in till this present
Doth promise no such change: what should I fear then?
Well, come what will, I'll tempt my fortune once.
Piso, thou mayest deceive me, but I think thou lovest me, Piso.
PIS. Sir, if a servant's zeal and humble duty may be term'd love, you are
possest of it.
THO. I have a matter to impart to thee, but thou must be secret, Piso.
PIS. Sir, for that --
THO. Nay, hear me, man; think I esteem thee well,
To let thee in thus to my private thoughts;
Piso, it is a thing sits nearer to my crest,
Than thou art 'ware of; if thou should'st reveal it --
PIS. Reveal it, sir?
THO. Nay, I do not think thou would'st, but if thou should'st --
PIS. Sir, then I were a villain:
Disclaim in me for ever if I do.
THO. He will not swear: he has some meaning, sure,
Else (being urged so much) how should he choose,
But lend an oath to all this protestation?
He is no puritan, that I am certain of.
What should I think of it? urge him again,
And in some other form: I will do so.
Well, Piso, thou has sworn not to disclose; ay, you did swear?
PIS. Not yet, sir, but I will, so please you.
THO. Nay, I dare take thy word.
But if thou wilt swear, do as you think good,
I am resolved without such circumstance.
PIS. By my soul's safety, sir, I here protest,
My tongue shall ne'er take knowledge of a word
Deliver'd me in compass of your trust.
THO. Enough, enough, these ceremonies need not,
I know thy faith to be as firm as brass.
Piso, come hither: nay, we must be close
In managing these actions: So it is,
(Now he has sworn I dare the safelier speak;)
I have of late by divers observations --
But, whether his oath be lawful, yea, or no? ha!
I will ask counsel ere I do proceed:
Piso, it will be now too long to stay,
We'll spy some fitter time soon, or to-morrow.
PIS. At your pleasure, sir.
THO. I pray you search the books 'gainst I return
For the receipts 'twixt me and Platano.
PIS. I will, sir.
THO. And hear you: if my brother Prospero
Chance to bring hither any gentlemen
Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word.
PIS. Very well, sir.
THO. Forget it not, nor be not you out of the way.
PIS. I will not, sir.
THO. Or whether he come or no, if any other,
Stranger or else: fail not to send me word.
PIS. Yes, sir.
THO. Have care, I pray you, and remember it.
PIS. I warrant you, sir.
THO. But, Piso, this is not the secret I told thee of.
PIS. No, sir, I suppose so.
THO. Nay, believe me, it is not.
PIS. I do believe you, sir.
THO. By heaven it is not, that's enough.
Marry, I would not thou should'st utter it to any creature living,
Yet I care not.
Well, I must hence: Piso, conceive thus much,
No ordinary person could have drawn
So deep a secret from me; I mean not this,
But that I have to tell thee: this is nothing, this.
Piso, remember, silence, buried here:
No greater hell than to be slave to fear.
[EXIT THO.
PIS. Piso, remember, silence, buried here:
When should this flow of passion (trow) take head? ha!
Faith, I'll dream no longer of this running humour,
For fear I sink, the violence of the stream
Already hath transported me so far
That I can feel no ground at all: but soft,
[ENTER COB.
Oh, it's our water-bearer: somewhat has crost him now.
COB. Fasting days: what tell you me of your fasting days? would they
were all on a light fire for me: they say the world shall be consumed with
fire and brimstone in the latter day: but I would we had these ember weeks
and these villainous Fridays burnt in the mean time, and then --
PIS. Why, how now, Cob! what moves thee to this choler, ha?
COB. Collar, sir? 'swounds, I scorn your collar, I, sir, am no collier's
horse, sir, never ride me with your collar, an you do, I'll shew you a
jade's trick.
PIS. Oh, you'll slip your head out of the collar: why, Cob, you mistake me.
COB. Nay, I have my rheum, and I be angry as well as another, sir.
PIE. Thy rheum? thy humour, man, thou mistakest.
COB. Humour? mack, I think it be so indeed: what is this humour? it's
some rare thing, I warrant.
PIS. Marry, I'll tell thee what it is (as 'tis generally received in these
days): it is a monster bred in a man by self-love and affectation, and fed
by folly.
COB. How? must it be fed?
PIS. Oh ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed, why, didst thou never hear
of that? it's a common phrase, "Feed my humour".
COB. I'll none on it: humour, avaunt, I know you not, be gone. Let who
will make hungry meals for you, it shall not be I: Feed you, quoth he?
'sblood, I have much ado to feed myself, especially on these lean rascal
days too, an't had been any other day but a fasting day: a plague on them
all for me: by this light, one might have done God good service and have
drown'd them all in the flood two or three hundred thousand years ago, oh,
I do stomach them hugely: I have a maw now, an't were for Sir Bevis's
horse.
PIS. Nay, but I pray thee, Cob, what makes thee so out of love with
fasting days?
COB. Marry, that that will make any man out of love with them, I think:
their bad conditions, an you will needs know: First, they are of a Flemish
breed, I am sure on't, for they raven up more butter than all the days of
the week beside: next, they stink of fish miserably: thirdly, they'll
keep a man devoutly hungry all day, and at night send him supperless to bed.
PIS. Indeed, these are faults, Cob.
COB. Nay, an this were all, 'twere something, but they are the only known
enemies to my generation. A fasting day no sooner comes, but my lineage
goes to rack, poor Cobs, they smoke for it, they melt in passion, and your
maids too know this, and yet would have me turn Hannibal, and eat my own
fish and blood: my princely coz, [PULLS OUT A RED HERRING.] fear nothing;
I have not the heart to devour you, an I might be made as rich as Golias:
oh, that I had room for my tears, I could weep salt water enough now to
preserve the lives of ten thousand of my kin: but I may curse none but
these filthy Almanacks, for an 'twere not for them, these days of
persecution would ne'er be known. I'll be hang'd an some fishmonger's son
do not make on them, and puts in more fasting days than he should do,
because he would utter his father's dried stock-fish.
PIS. 'Soul, peace, thou'lt be beaten like a stockfish else: here is
Signior Matheo.
[ENTER MATHEO, PROSPERO, LORENZO JUNIOR, BOBADILLA, STEPHANO, MUSCO.
Now must I look out for a messenger to my master.
[EXEUNT COB AND PISO.
SCENE II.
PROS. Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good jest, and exceedingly well
carried.
LOR. JU. Ay, and our ignorance maintain'd it as well, did it not?
PROS. Yes, faith, but was't possible thou should'st not know him?
LOR. JU. 'Fore God, not I, an I might have been join'd patten with one of
the nine worthies for knowing him. 'Sblood, man, he had so writhen himself
into the habit of one of your poor Disparview's here, your decayed,
ruinous, worm-eaten gentlemen of the round: such as have vowed to sit on
the skirts of the city, let your Provost and his half dozen of halberdiers
do what they can; and have translated begging out of the old hackney pace,
to a fine easy amble, and made it run as smooth off the tongue as a
shove-groat shilling, into the likeness of one of these lean Pirgo's, had
he moulded himself so perfectly, observing every trick of their action, as
varying the accent: swearing with an emphasis. Indeed, all with so
special and exquisite a grace, that (hadst thou seen him) thou would'st
have sworn he might have been the Tamberlane, or the Agamemnon on the rout.
PROS. Why, Musco, who would have thought thou hadst been such a gallant?
LOR. JU. I cannot tell, but (unless a man had juggled begging all his life
time, and been a weaver of phrases from his infancy, for the apparelling of
it) I think the world cannot produce his rival.
PROS. Where got'st thou this coat, I marle?
MUS. Faith, sir, I had it of one of the devil's near kinsmen, a broker.
PROS. That cannot be, if the proverb hold, a crafty knave needs no broker.
MUS. True, sir, but I need a broker, ergo, no crafty knave.
PROS. Well put off, well put off.
LOR. JU. Tut, he has more of these shifts.
MUS. And yet where I have one, the broker has ten, sir.
[ENTER PIS.
PIS. Francisco, Martino, ne'er a one to be found now: what a spite's this?
PROS. How now, Piso? is my brother within?
PIS. No, sir, my master went forth e'en now, but Signior Giuliano is
within. Cob, what, Cob! Is he gone too?
PROS. Whither went thy master? Piso, canst thou tell?
PIS. I know not, to Doctor Clement's, I think, sir. Cob.
[EXIT PIS.
LOR. JU. Doctor Clement, what's he? I have heard much speech of him.
PROS. Why, dost thou not know him? he is the Gonfaloniere of the state
here, an excellent rare civilian, and a great scholar, but the only mad
merry old fellow in Europe: I shewed him you the other day.
LOR. JU. Oh, I remember him now; Good faith, and he hath a very strange
presence, methinks, it shews as if he stood out of the rank from other men.
I have heard many of his jests in Padua; they say he will commit a man for
taking the wall of his horse.
PROS. Ay, or wearing his cloak on one shoulder, or any thing indeed, if it
come in the way of his humour.
PIS. Gaspar, Martino, Cob: 'Sheart, where should they be, trow?
[ENTER PISO.
BOB. Signior Thorello's man, I pray thee vouchsafe us the lighting of this
match.
PIS. A pox on your match, no time but now to vouchsafe? Francisco, Cob.
[EXIT.
BOB. Body of me: here's the remainder of seven pound, since yesterday was
sevennight. It's your right Trinidado: did you never take any, signior?
STEP. No, truly, sir; but I'll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.
BOB. Signior, believe me (upon my relation) for what I tell you, the world
shall not improve. I have been in the Indies, (where this herb grows)
where neither myself nor a dozen gentlemen more (of my knowledge) have
received the taste of any other nutriment in the world, for the space of
one and twenty weeks, but tobacco only. Therefore it cannot be but 'tis
most divine. Further, take it in the nature, in the true kind, so, it
makes an antidote, that had you taken the most deadly poisonous simple in
all Florence it should expel it, and clarify you with as much ease as I
speak. And for your green wound, your Balsamum, and your -- are all mere
gulleries, and trash to it, especially your Trinidado: your Nicotian is
good too: I would say what I know of the virtue of it, for the exposing of
rheums, raw humours, crudities, obstructions, with a thousand of this kind;
but I profess myself no quack-salver. Only thus much; by Hercules, I do
hold it, and will affirm it (before any Prince in Europe) to be the most
sovereign and precious herb that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.
LOR. JU. Oh, this speech would have done rare in an apothecary's mouth.
PIS. Ay; close by Saint Anthony's: Doctor Clement's.
COB. Oh, oh.
BOB. Where's the match I gave thee?
PIS. 'Sblood, would his match, and he, and pipe, and all, were at Sancto
Domingo.
[EXIT.
COB. By God's deins, I marle what pleasure or felicity they have in taking
this roguish tobacco; it's good for nothing but to choke a man, and fill
him full of smoke and embers: there were four died out of one house last
week with taking of it, and two more the bell went for yesternight, one of
them (they say) will ne'er escape it, he voided a bushel of soot yesterday,
upward and downward. By the stocks, an there were no wiser men than I, I'd
have it present death, man or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco
pipe; why, it will stifle them all in the end as many as use it; it's
little better than rat's-bane.
[EXIT PISO.
ALL. Oh, good Signior; hold, hold.
BOB. You base cullion, you.
PIS. Sir, here's your match; come, thou must needs be talking too.
COB. Nay, he will not meddle with his match, I warrant you; well, it shall
be a dear beating, an I life.
BOB. Do you prate?
LOR. JU. Nay, good Signior, will you regard the humour of a fool? Away,
knave.
PROS. Piso, get him away.
[EXIT PISO AND COB.
BOB. A whoreson filthy slave, a turd, an excrement. Body of Caesar, but
that I scorn to let forth so mean a spirit, I'd have stabb'd him to the
earth.
PROS. Marry, God forbid, sir.
BOB. By this fair heaven, I would have done it.
STEP. Oh, he swears admirably; (by this fair heaven!) Body of Caesar: I
shall never do it, sure (upon my salvation). No, I have not the right
grace.
MAT. Signior, will you any? By this air, the most divine tobacco as ever
I drunk.
LOR. JU. I thank you, sir.
STEP. Oh, this gentleman doth it rarely too, but nothing like the other.
By this air, as I am a gentleman: By Phoebus.
[EXIT BOB. AND MAT.
MUS. Master, glance, glance: Signior Prospero.
STEP. As I have a soul to be saved, I do protest --
PROS. That you are a fool.
LOR. JU. Cousin, will you any tobacco?
STEP. Ay, sir: upon my salvation.
LOR. JU. How now, cousin?
STEP. I protest, as I am a gentleman, but no soldier indeed.
PROS. No, Signior, as I remember, you served on a great horse, last
general muster.
STEP. Ay, sir, that's true, cousin, may I swear as I am a soldier, by that?
LOR. JU. Oh yes, that you may.
STEP. Then as I am a gentleman, and a soldier, it is divine tobacco.
PROS. But soft, where's Signior Matheo? gone?
MUS. No, sir, they went in here.
PROS. Oh, let's follow them: Signior Matheo is gone to salute his
mistress, sirrah, now thou shalt hear some of his verses, for he never
comes hither without some shreds of poetry: Come, Signior Stephano. Musco.
STEP. Musco? where? I this Musco?
LOR. JU. Ay; but peace, cousin, no words of it at any hand.
STEP. Not I, by this fair heaven, as I have a soul to be saved, by Phoebus.
PROS. Oh rare! your cousin's discourse is simply suited, all in oaths.
LOR. JU. Ay, he lacks nothing but a little light stuff, to draw them out
withal, and he were rarely fitted to the time.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE III. -- ENTER THORELLO WITH COB.
THO. Ha, how many are there, sayest thou?
COB. Marry, sir, your brother, Signior Prospero.
THO. Tut, beside him: what strangers are there, man?
COB. Strangers? let me see, one, two; mass, I know not well, there's so many.
THO. How? so many?
COB. Ay, there's some five or six of them at the most.
THO. A swarm, a swarm?
Spite of the devil, how they sting my heart!
How long hast thou been coming hither, Cob?
COB. But a little while, sir.
THO. Didst thou come running?
COB. No, sir.
THO. Tut, then I am familiar with thy haste.
Ban to my fortunes: what meant I to marry?
I that before was rank'd in such content,
My mind attired in smooth silken peace,
Being free master of mine own free thoughts,
And now become a slave? what, never sigh,
Be of good cheer, man: for thou art a cuckold,
'Tis done, 'tis done: nay, when such flowing store,
Plenty itself falls in my wife's lap,
The Cornucopiae will be mine, I know. But, Cob,
What entertainment had they? I am sure
My sister and my wife would bid them welcome, ha?
COB. Like enough: yet I heard not a word of welcome.
THO. No, their lips were seal'd with kisses, and the voice
Drown'd in a flood of joy at their arrival,
Had lost her motion, state, and faculty.
Cob, which of them was't that first kiss'd my wife?
(My sister, I should say,) my wife, alas,
I fear not her: ha? who was it, say'st thou?
COB. By my troth, sir, will you have the truth of it?
THO. Oh ay, good Cob: I pray thee.
COB. God's my judge, I saw nobody to be kiss'd, unless they would have
kiss'd the post in the middle of the warehouse; for there I left them all,
at their tobacco, with a pox.
THO. How? were they not gone in then ere thou cam'st?
COB. Oh no, sir.
THO. Spite of the devil, what do I stay here then?
Cob, follow me.
[EXIT THO.
COB. Nay, soft and fair, I have eggs on the spit; I cannot go yet sir:
now am I for some divers reasons hammering, hammering revenge: oh, for
three or four gallons of vinegar, to sharpen my wits: Revenge, vinegar
revenge, russet revenge; nay, an he had not lien in my house, 'twould never
have grieved me; but being my guest, one that I'll be sworn my wife has
lent him her smock off her back, while his own shirt has been at washing:
pawned her neckerchers for clean bands for him: sold almost all my
platters to buy him tobacco; and yet to see an ingratitude wretch strike
his host; well, I hope to raise up an host of furies for't: here comes M.
Doctor.
[ENTER DOCTOR CLEMENT, LORENZO SENIOR, PETO.
CLEM. What's Signior Thorello gone?
PET. Ay, sir.
CLEM. Heart of me, what made him leave us so abruptly? How now, sirrah;
what make you here? what would you have, ha?
COB. An't please your worship, I am a poor neighbour of your worship's.
CLEM. A neighbour of mine, knave?
COB. Ay, sir, at the sign of the Water-tankard, hard by the Green Lattice:
I have paid soot and lot there any time this eighteen years.
CLEM. What, at the Green Lattice?
COB. No sir: to the parish: marry, I have seldom scaped scot-free at the
Lattice.
CLEM. So: but what business hath my neighbour?
COB. An't like your worship, I am come to crave the peace of your worship.
CLEM. Of me, knave? peace of me, knave? did I e'er hurt thee? did I
ever threaten thee? or wrong thee? ha?
COB. No, God's my comfort, I mean your worship's warrant, for one that
hath wrong'd me, sir: his arms are at too much liberty, I would fain have
them bound to a treaty of peace, an I could by any means compass it.
LOR. Why, dost thou go in danger of thy life for him?
COB. No, sir; but I go in danger of my death every hour by his means; an I
die within a twelve-month and a day, I may swear, by the laws of the land,
that he kill'd me.
CLEM. How? how, knave? swear he kill'd thee? what pretext? what colour
hast thou for that?
COB. Marry, sir, both black and blue, colour enough, I warrant you, I have
it here to shew your worship.
CLEM. What is he that gave you this, sirrah?
COB. A gentleman in the city, sir.
CLEM. A gentleman? what call you him?
COB. Signior Bobadilla.
CLEM. Good: But wherefore did he beat you, sirrah? how began the quarrel
'twixt you? ha: speak truly, knave, I advise you.
COB. Marry, sir, because I spake against their vagrant tobacco, as I came
by them: for nothing else.
CLEM. Ha, you speak against tobacco? Peto, his name.
PET. What's your name, sirrah?
COB. Oliver Cob, sir, set Oliver Cob, sir.
CLEM. Tell Oliver Cob he shall go to the jail.
PET. Oliver Cob, master Doctor says you shall go to the jail.
COB. Oh, I beseech your worship, for God's love, dear master Doctor.
CLEM. Nay, God's precious! an such drunken knaves as you are come to
dispute of tobacco once, I have done: away with him.
COB. Oh, good master Doctor, sweet gentleman.
LOR. SE. Sweet Oliver, would I could do thee any good; master Doctor, let
me intreat, sir.
CLEM. What? a tankard-bearer, a thread-bare rascal, a beggar, a slave
that never drunk out of better than piss-pot metal in his life, and he to
deprave and abuse the virtue of an herb so generally received in the courts
of princes, the chambers of nobles, the bowers of sweet ladies, the cabins
of soldiers: Peto, away with him, by God's passion, I say, go to.
COB. Dear master Doctor.
LOR. SE. Alas, poor Oliver.
CLEM. Peto: ay: and make him a warrant, he shall not go, I but fear the
knave.
COB. O divine Doctor, thanks, noble Doctor, most dainty Doctor, delicious
Doctor.
[EXEUNT PETO WITH DOB.
CLEM. Signior Lorenzo: God's pity, man,
Be merry, be merry, leave these dumps.
LOR. SE. Troth, would I could, sir: but enforced mirth
(In my weak judgment) has no happy birth.
The mind, being once a prisoner unto cares,
The more it dreams on joy, the worse it fares.
A smiling look is to a heavy soul
As a gilt bias to a leaden bowl,
Which (in itself) appears most vile, being spent
To no true use; but only for ostent.
CLEM. Nay, but, good Signior, hear me a word, hear me a word, your cares
are nothing; they are like my cap, soon put on, and as soon put off. What?
your son is old enough to govern himself; let him run his course, it's the
only way to make him a staid man: if he were an unthrift, a ruffian, a
drunkard, or a licentious liver, then you had reason: you had reason to
take care: but being none of these, God's passion, an I had twice so many
cares as you have, I'd drown them all in a cup of sack: come, come, I must
your parcel of a soldier returns not all this while.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE IV. -- ENTER GIULIANO, WITH BIANCHA.
GIU. Well, sister, I tell you true: and you'll find it so in the end.
BIA. Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help it; you
see, my brother Prospero he brings them in here, they are his friends.
GIU. His friends? his friends? 'sblood, they do nothing but haunt him up
and down like a sort of unlucky sprites, and tempt him to all manner of
villainy that can be thought of; well, by this light, a little thing would
make me play the devil with some of them; an't were not more for your
husband's sake than any thing else, I'd make the house too hot for them;
they should say and swear, hell were broken loose, ere they went. But by
God's bread, 'tis nobody's fault but yours; for an you had done as you
might have done, they should have been damn'd ere they should have come in,
e'er a one of them.
BIA. God's my life; did you ever hear the like? what a strange man is
this! could I keep out all them, think you? I should put myself against
half a dozen men, should I? Good faith, you'd mad the patient'st body in
the world, to hear you talk so, without any sense or reason.
[ENTER MATHEO WITH HESPERIDA, BOBADILLA, STEPHANO, LORENZO JUNIOR, PROSPERO, MUSCO.
HESP. Servant, (in troth) you are too prodigal of your wits' treasu
re, thus to pour it forth upon so mean a subject as my worth.
MAT. You say well, you say well.
GIU. Hoyday, here is stuff.
LOR. JU. Oh now stand close; pray God she can get him to read it.
PROS. Tut, fear not: I warrant thee he will do it of himself with much
impudency.
HES. Servant, what is that same, I pray you?
MAT. Marry, an Elegy, an Elegy, an odd toy.
GIU. Ay, to mock an ape withal. O Jesu.
BIA. Sister, I pray you let's hear it.
MAT. Mistress, I'll read it, if you please.
HES. I pray you do, servant.
GIU. Oh, here's no foppery. 'Sblood, it frets me to the gall to think on it.
[EXIT.
PROS. Oh ay, it is his condition, peace: we are fairly rid of him.
MAT. Faith, I did it in an humour: I know not how it is, but please you
come near, signior: this gentleman hath judgment, he knows how to censure
of a -- I pray you, sir, you can judge.
STEP. Not I, sir: as I have a soul to be saved, as I am a gentleman.
LOR. JU. Nay, it's well; so long as he doth not forswear himself.
BOB. Signior, you abuse the excellency of your mistress and her fair
sister. Fie, while you live avoid this prolixity.
MAT. I shall, sir; well, 'incipere dulce'.
LOR. JU. How, 'incipere dulce'? a sweet thing to be a fool indeed.
PROS. What, do you take incipere in that sense?
LOR. JU. You do not, you? 'Sblood, this was your villainy to gull him
with a motte.
PROS. Oh, the benchers' phrase: 'pauca verba, pauca verba'.
MAT. "Rare creature, let me speak without offence,
Would God my rude words had the influence
To rule thy thoughts, as thy fair looks do mine,
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine".
LOR. JU. 'Sheart, this is in 'Hero and Leander'!
PROS. Oh ay: peace, we shall have more of this.
MAT. "Be not unkind and fair: misshapen stuff
Is of behaviour boisterous and rough:"
How like you that, Signior? 'sblood, he shakes his head like a bottle, to
feel an there be any brain in it.
MAT. But observe the catastrophe now,
"And I in duty will exceed all other,
As you in beauty do excel love's mother".
LOR. JU. Well, I'll have him free of the brokers, for he utters nothing
but stolen remnants.
PROS. Nay, good critic, forbear.
LOR. JU. A pox on him, hang him, filching rogue, steal from the dead?
it's worse than sacrilege.
PROS. Sister, what have you here? verses? I pray you let's see.
BIA. Do you let them go so lightly, sister?
HES. Yes, faith, when they come lightly.
BIA. Ay, but if your servant should hear you, he would take it heavily.
HES. No matter, he is able to bear.
BIA. So are asses.
HES. So is he.
PROS. Signior Matheo, who made these verses? they are excellent good.
MAT. O God, sir, it's your pleasure to say so, sir.
Faith, I made them extempore this morning.
PROS. How extempore?
MAT. Ay, would I might be damn'd else; ask Signior Bobadilla.
He saw me write them, at the -- (pox on it) the Mitre yonder.
MUS. Well, an the Pope knew he cursed the Mitre it were enough to have him
excommunicated all the taverns in the town.
STEP. Cousin, how do you like this gentleman's verses?
LOR. JU. Oh, admirable, the best that ever I heard.
STEP. By this fair heavens, they are admirable,
The best that ever I heard.
[ENTER GIULIANO.
GIU. I am vext I can hold never a bone of me still,
'Sblood, I think they mean to build a Tabernacle here, well?
PROS. Sister, you have a simple servant here, that crowns your beauty with
such encomiums and devices, you may see what it is to be the mistress of a
wit that can make your perfections so transparent, that every blear eye may
look through them, and see him drowned over head and ears in the deep well
of desire. Sister Biancha, I marvel you get you not a servant that can
rhyme and do tricks too.
GIU. O monster! impudence itself! tricks!
BIA. Tricks, brother? what tricks?
HES. Nay, speak, I pray you, what tricks?
BIA. Ay, never spare any body here: but say, what tricks?
HES. Passion of my heart! do tricks?
PROS. 'Sblood, here's a trick vied, and revied: why, you monkeys, you!
what a cater-wauling do you keep! has he not given you rhymes, and verses,
and tricks?
GIU. Oh, see the devil!
PROS. Nay, you lamp of virginity, that take it in snuff so: come and
cherish this tame poetical fury in your servant, you'll be begg'd else
shortly for a concealment: go to, reward his muse, you cannot give him
less than a shilling in conscience, for the book he had it out of cost him
a teston at the least. How now gallants, Lorenzo, Signior Bobadilla!
what, all sons of silence? no spirit.
GIU. Come, you might practise your ruffian tricks somewhere else, and not
here, I wiss: this is no tavern, nor no place for such exploits.
PROS. 'Sheart, how now!
GIU. Nay, boy, never look askance at me for the matter; I'll tell you of
it, by God's bread, ay, and you and your companions mend yourselves when I
have done.
PROS. My companions?
GIU. Ay, your companions, sir, so I say! 'Sblood, I am not afraid of you
nor them neither, you must have your poets, and your cavaliers, and your
fools follow you up and down the city, and here they must come to domineer
and swagger? sirrah, you ballad-singer, and slops, your fellow there, get
you out; get you out: or (by the will of God) I'll cut off your ears, go
to.
PROS. 'Sblood, stay, let's see what he dare do: cut off his ears; you are
an ass, touch any man here, and by the Lord I'll run my rapier to the hilts
in thee.
GIU. Yea, that would I fain see, boy.
BIA. O Jesu! Piso! Matheo! murder!
HES. Help, help, Piso!
[THEY ALL DRAW, ENTER PISO AND SOME MORE OF THE HOUSE TO PART THEM, THE
WOMEN MAKE A GREAT CRY.
LOR. JU. Gentlemen, Prospero, forbear, I pray you.
BOB. Well, sirrah, you Holofernes: by my hand, I will pink thy flesh full
of holes with my rapier for this, I will, by this good heaven: nay, let
him come, let him come, gentlemen, by the body of St. George, I'll not kill
him.
[THEY OFFER TO FIGHT AGAIN, AND ARE PARTED.
PIS. Hold, hold, forbear.
GIU. You whoreson, bragging coistril.
[ENTER THORELLO.
THO. Why, how now? what's the matter? what stir is here?
Whence springs this quarrel? Piso, where is he?
Put up your weapons, and put off this rage.
My wife and sister, they are cause of this.
What, Piso? where is this knave?
PIS. Here, sir.
PROS. Come, let's go: this is one of my brother's ancient humours, this.
STEP. I am glad nobody was hurt by this ancient humour.
[EXIT PROSPERO, LORENZO JU., MUSCO, STEPHANO, BOBADILLA, MATHEO.
THO. Why, how now, brother, who enforced this brawl?
GIU. A sort of lewd rake-hells, that care neither for God nor the devil.
And they must come here to read ballads and roguery, and trash. I'll mar
the knot of them ere I sleep, perhaps; especially Signior Pithagoras, he
that's all manner of shapes: and songs and sonnets, his fellow there.
HES. Brother, indeed you are too violent,
Too sudden in your courses, and you know
My brother Prospero's temper will not bear
Any reproof, chiefly in such a presence,
Where every slight disgrace he should receive,
Would wound him in opinion and respect.
GIU. Respect? what talk you of respect 'mongst such
As had neither spark of manhood nor good manners?
By God I am ashamed to hear you: respect?
[EXIT.
HES. Yes, there was one a civil gentleman,
And very worthily demeaned himself.
THO. Oh, that was some love of yours, sister.
HES. A love of mine? i'faith, I would he were
No other's love but mine.
BIA. Indeed, he seem'd to be a gentleman of an exceeding fair disposition,
and of very excellent good parts.
[EXIT HESPERIDA, BIANCHA.
THO. Her love, by Jesu: my wife's minion,
Fair disposition? excellent good parts?
'Sheart, these phrases are intolerable,
Good parts? how should she know his parts? well, well,
It is too plain, too clear: Piso, come hither.
What, are they gone?
PIS. Ay, sir, they went in.
THO. Are any of the gallants within?
PIS. No sir, they are all gone.
THO. Art thou sure of it?
PIS. Ay, sir, I can assure you.
THO. Piso, what gentleman was that they praised so?
PISO. One they call him Signior Lorenzo, a fair young gentleman, sir.
THO. Ay, I thought so: my mind gave me as much:
'Sblood, I'll be hang'd if they have not hid him in the house,
Some where, I'll go search, Piso, go with me,
Be true to me and thou shalt find me bountiful.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE V. -- ENTER COB, TO HIM TIB.
COB. What, Tib, Tib, I say.
TIB. How now, what cuckold is that knocks so hard? Oh, husband, is't you?
What's the news?
COB. Nay, you have stunn'd me, i'faith; you have given me a knock on the
forehead will stick by me: cuckold? 'Swounds, cuckold?
TIB. Away, you fool, did I know it was you that knock'd?
Come, come, you may call me as bad when you list.
COB. May I? 'swounds, Tib, you are a whore.
TIB. 'Sheart, you lie in your throat.
COB. How, the lie? and in my throat too? do you long to be stabb'd, ha?
TIB. Why, you are no soldier?
COB. Mass, that's true, when was Bobadilla here? that rogue, that slave,
that fencing Burgullion? I'll tickle him, i'faith.
TIB. Why, what's the matter?
COB. Oh, he hath basted me rarely, sumptuously: but I have it here will
sauce him, oh. the doctor, the honestest old Trojan in all Italy, I do
honour the very flea of his dog: a plague on him, he put me once in a
villainous filthy fear: marry, it vanish'd away like the smoke of tobacco:
but I was smok'd soundly first, I think the devil, and his good angel my
guest: well, wife, or Tib, (which you will) get you in, and lock the door,
I charge you; let nobody into you, not Bobadilla himself, nor the devil in
his likeness; you are a woman; you have flesh and blood enough in you;
therefore be not tempted; keep the door shut upon all comers.
TIB. I warrant you there shall nobody enter here without my consent.
COB. Nor with your consent, sweet Tib, and so I leave you.
TIB. It's more than you know, whether you leave me so.
COB. How?
TIB. Why, sweet.
COB. Tut, sweet or sour, thou art a flower.
Keep close thy door, I ask no more.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE VI. -- ENTER LORENZO JUN., PROSPERO, STEPHANO, MUSCO.
LOR JU. Well, Musco, perform this business happily,
And thou makest a conquest of my love for ever.
PROS. I'faith, now let thy spirits put on their best habit,
But at any hand remember thy message to my brother,
For there's no other means to start him.
MUS. I warrant you, sir, fear nothing; I have a nimble soul that hath
waked all my imaginative forces by this time, and put them in true motion:
what you have possest me withal, I'll discharge it amply, sir. Make no
question.
[EXIT MUSCO.
PROS. That's well said, Musco: faith, sirrah, how dost thou approve my
wit in this device?
LOR JU. Troth, well, however; but excellent if it take.
PROS. Take, man: why, it cannot choose but take, if the circumstances
miscarry not, but tell me zealously: dost thou affect my sister Hesperida,
as thou pretendest?
LOR JU. Prospero, by Jesu.
PROS. Come, do not protest, I believe thee: i'faith, she is a virgin of
good ornament, and much modesty, unless I conceived very worthily of her,
thou shouldest not have her.
LOR JU. Nay, I think it a question whether I shall have her for all that.
PROS. 'Sblood, thou shalt have her, by this light, thou shalt!
LOR JU. Nay, do not swear.
PROS. By St. Mark, thou shalt have her: I'll go fetch her presently,
'point but where to meet, and by this hand, I'll bring her!
LOR JU. Hold, hold, what, all policy dead? no prevention of mischiefs
stirring.
PROS. Why, by -- what shall I swear by? Thou shalt have her, by my soul.
LOR. JU. I pray thee have patience, I am satisfied: Prospero, omit no
offered occasion that may make my desires complete, I beseech thee.
PROS. I warrant thee
[EXEUNT.
-----------------
ACT IV
SCENE I. - ENTER LORENZO SEN., PETO, MEETING MUSCO.
PETO. Was your man a soldier, sir?
LOR. SE. Ay, a knave, I took him up begging upon the way,
This morning as I was coming to the city.
Oh! Here he is; come on, you make fair speed:
Why, where in God's name have you been so long?
MUS. Marry, (God's my comfort) where I thought I should have had little
comfort of your worship's service.
LOR. SE. How so?
MUS. O God, sir! Your coming to the city, and your entertainment of men,
and your sending me to watch; indeed, all the circumstances are as open to
your son as to yourself.
LOR. SE. How should that be? Unless that villain Musco
Have told him of the letter, and discovered
All that I strictly charged him to conceal? 'tis so.
MUS. I'faith, you have hit it: 'tis so indeed.
LOR. SE. But how should he know thee to be my man?
MUS. Nay, sir, I cannot tell; unless it were by the black art? Is not
your son a scholar, sir?
LOR. SE. Yes; but I hope his soul is not allied
To such a devilish practice: if it were,
I had just cause to weep my part in him.
And curse the time of his creation.
But where didst thou find them, Portensio?
MUS. Nay, sir, rather you should ask where they found me? For I'll be
sworn I was going along in the street, thinking nothing, when (of a sudden)
one calls, 'Signior Lorenzo's man': another, he cries 'soldier': and thus
half a dozen of them, till they had got me within doors, where I no sooner
came, but out flies their rapiers and all bent against my breast, they
swore some two or three hundred oaths, and all to tell me I was but a dead
man, if I did not confess where you were, and how I was employed, and about
what; which, when they could not get out of me, (as God's my judge, they
should have kill'd me first,) they lock'd me up into a room in the top of a
house, where, by great miracle, (having a light heart) I slid down by a
bottom of packthread into the street, and so scaped: but, master, thus
much I can assure you, for I heard it while I was lock'd up: there were a
great many merchants and rich citizens' wives with them at a banquet, and
your son, Signior Lorenzo, has 'pointed one of them to meet anon at one
Cob's house, a water-bearer's, that dwells by the wall: now there you
shall be sure to take him: for fail he will not.
LOR. SE. Nor will I fail to break this match, I doubt not;
Well, go thou along with master Doctor's man,
And stay there for me; at one Cob's house, say'st thou?
[EXIT.
MUS. Ay, sir, there you shall have him: when can you tell? Much wench,
or much son: 'sblood, when he has stay'd there three or four hours,
travelling with the expectation of somewhat; and at the length be delivered
of nothing: oh, the sport that I should then take to look on him if I
durst; but now I mean to appear no more afore him in this shape: I have
another trick to act yet; oh, that I were so happy as to light upon an
ounce now of this Doctor's clerk: God save you, sir.
PETO. I thank you, good sir.
MUS. I have made you stay somewhat long, sir.
PETO. Not a whit, sir, I pray you what, sir, do you mean? You have been
lately in the wars, sir, it seems.
MUS. Ay, marry have I, sir.
PETO. Troth, sir, I would be glad to bestow a bottle of wine on you, if it
please you to accept it.
MUS. O Lord, sir.
PETO. But to hear the manner of your services, and your devices in the
wars, they say they be very strange, and not like those a man reads in the
Roman histories.
MUS. O God, no, sir, why, at any time when it please you, I shall be ready
to discourse to you what I know: and more too somewhat.
PETO. No better time than now, sir, we'll go to the 'Mermaid': there we
shall have a cup of neat wine, I pray you, sir, let me request you.
MUS. I'll follow you, sir, he is mine own, I'faith.
[EXEUNT.
ENTER BOBADILLA, LORENZO JUN., MATHEO, STEPHANO.
MAT. Signior, did you ever see the like clown of him where we were to-day:
Signior Prospero's brother? I think the whole earth cannot shew his like,
by Jesu.
LOR. JU. We were now speaking of him, Signior Bobadillo tells me he is
fallen foul of you too.
MAT. Oh ay, sir, he threatened me with the bastinado.
BOB. Ay, but I think I taught you a trick this morning for that. You
shall kill him without all question, if you be so minded.
MAT. Indeed, it is a most excellent trick.
BOB. Oh, you do not give spirit enough to your motion; you are too dull,
too tardy: oh, it must be done like lightning, hay!
MAT. Oh, rare.
BOB. Tut, 'tis nothing an't be not done in a --
LOR. JU. Signior, did you never play with any of our masters here?
MAT. Oh, good sir.
BOB. Nay, for a more instance of their preposterous humour, there came
three or four of them to me, at a gentleman's house, where it was my chance
to be resident at that time, to intreat my presence at their schools, and
withal so much importuned me, that (I protest to you as I am a gentleman) I
was ashamed of their rude demeanour out of all measure: well, I told them
that to come to a public school they should pardon me, it was opposite to
my humour, but if so they would attend me at my lodging, I protested to do
them what right or favour I could, as I was a gentleman, etc.
LOR. JU. So sir, then you tried their skill.
BOB. Alas, soon tried: you shall hear, sir, within two or three days
after they came, and by Jesu, good Signior, believe me, I graced them
exceedingly, shewed them some two or three tricks of prevention hath got
them since admirable credit, they cannot deny this; and yet now they hate
me, and why? Because I am excellent, and for no other reason on the earth.
LOR. JU. This is strange and vile as ever I heard.
BOB. I will tell you, sir, upon my first coming to the city, they
assaulted me some three, four, five, six of them together, as I have walk'd
alone in divers places of the city; as upon the Exchange, at my lodging,
and at my ordinary, where I have driven them afore me the whole length of a
street, in the open view of all our gallants, pitying to hurt them, believe
me; yet all this lenity will not depress their spleen; they will be doing
with the pismire, raising a hill a man may spurn abroad with his foot at
pleasure: by my soul, I could have slain them all, but I delight not in
murder: I am loth to bear any other but a bastinado for them, and yet I
hold it good policy not to go disarm'd, for though I be skilful, I may be
suppressed with multitudes.
LOR. JU. Ay, by Jesu, may you, sir, and (in my conceit) our whole nation
should sustain the loss by it, if it were so.
BOB. Alas, no: what's a peculiar man to a nation? not seen.
LOR. JU. Ay, but your skill, sir.
BOB. Indeed, that might be some loss, but who respects it? I will tell
you, Signior, (in private) I am a gentleman, and live here obscure, and to
myself; but were I known to the Duke (observe me) I would undertake (upon
my head and life) for the public benefit of the state, not only to spare
the entire lives of his subjects in general, but to save the one half, nay,
three parts of his yearly charges, in holding wars generally against all
his enemies; and how will I do it, think you?
LOR. JU. Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive.
BOB. Marry, thus, I would select nineteen more to myself, throughout the
land, gentlemen they should be of good spirit; strong and able
constitution, I would choose them by an instinct, a trick that I have, and
I would teach these nineteen the special tricks, as your punto, your
reverso, your stoccato, your imbroccato, your passado, your montanto, till
they could all play very near or altogether as well as myself. This done,
say the enemy were forty thousand strong: we twenty would come into the
field the tenth of March, or thereabouts, and would challenge twenty of the
enemy; they could not in their honour refuse the combat: well, we would
kill them: challenge twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them;
twenty more, kill them too; and thus would we kill every man his twenty a
day, that's twenty score; twenty score, that's two hundred; two hundred a
day, five days a thousand: forty thousand; forty times five, five times
forty, two hundred days kills them all, by computation, and this will I
venture my life to perform: provided there be no treason practised upon us.
LOR. JU. Why, are you so sure of your hand at all times?
BOB. Tut, never mistrust, upon my soul.
LOR. JU. Mass, I would not stand in Signior Giuliano's state, then, an you
meet him, for the wealth of Florence.
BOB. Why Signior, by Jesu, if he were here now, I would not draw my weapon
on him, let this gentleman do his mind, but I will bastinado him (by
heaven) an ever I meet him.
[ENTER GIULIANO AND GOES OUT AGAIN.
MAT. Faith, and I'll have a fling at him.
LOR. JU. Look, yonder he goes, I think.
GIU. 'Sblood, what luck have I, I cannot meet with these bragging rascals.
BOB. It's not he: is it?
LOR. JU. Yes, faith, it is he.
MAT. I'll be hang'd then if that were he.
LOR. JU. Before God, it was he: you make me swear.
STEP. Upon my salvation, it was he.
BOB. Well, had I though it had been he, he could not have gone so, but I
cannot be induced to believe it was he yet.
[ENTER GIU.
GIU. Oh, gallant, have I found you? draw to your tools; draw, or by God's
will I'll thrash you.
BOB. Signior, hear me.
GIU. Draw your weapons then.
BOB. Signior, I never thought it till now: body of St. George, I have a
warrant of the peace served on me even now, as I came along, by a
water-bearer, this gentleman saw it, Signior Matheo.
GIU. The peace! 'Sblood, you will not draw?
[MATHEO RUNS AWAY. HE BEATS HIM AND DISARMS HIM.
LOR. JU. Hold, Signior, hold, under thy favour forbear.
GIU. Prate again as you like this, you whoreson cowardly rascal, you'll
control the point, you? your consort he is gone; had he staid he had
shared with you, in faith.
[EXIT GIULIANO.
BOB. Well, gentlemen, bear witness, I was bound to the peace, by Jesu.
LOR. JU. Why, and though you were, sir, the law allows you to defend
yourself; that's but a poor excuse.
BOB. I cannot tell; I never sustained the like disgrace (by heaven); sure
I was struck with a planet then, for I had no power to touch my weapon.
[EXIT.
LOR. JU. Ay, like enough; I have heard of many that have been beaten under
a planet; go, get you to the surgeon's, 'sblood, an these be your tricks,
your passados, and your montantos, I'll none of them: O God, that this age
should bring forth such creatures! come, cousin.
STEP. Mass, I'll have this cloak.
LOR. JU. God's will: it's Giuliano's.
STEP. Nay, but 'tis mine now, another might have ta'en it up as well as I,
I'll wear it, so I will.
LOR. JU. How an he see it? he'll challenge it, assure yourself.
STEP. Ay, but he shall not have it; I'll say I bought it.
LOR. JU. Advise you, cousin, take heed he give not you as much.
[EXEUNT.
ENTER THORELLO, PROSPERO, BIANCHA, HESPERIDA.
THO. Now trust me, Prospero, you were much to blame,
T' incense your brother and disturb the peace
Of my poor house, for there be sentinels,
That every minute watch to give alarms
Of civil war, without adjection
Of your assistance and occasion.
PROS. No harm done, brother, I warrant you: since there is no harm done,
anger costs a man nothing: an a tall man is never his own man till he be
angry, to keep his valour in obscurity, is to keep himself as it were in a
cloak-bag: what's a musician unless he play? what's a tall man unless he
fight? for indeed, all this my brother stands upon absolutely, and that
made me fall in with him so resolutely.
BIA. Ay, but what harm might have come of it?
PROS. Might? So might the good warm clothes your husband wears be
poison'd for any thing he knows, or the wholesome wine he drunk even now at
the table.
THO. Now, God forbid: O me! now I remember,
My wife drunk to me last; and changed the cup,
And bade me wear this cursed suit to-day,
See if God suffer murder undiscover'd!
I feel me ill; give me some mithridate,
Some mithridate and oil; good sister, fetch me,
Oh, I am sick at heart: I burn, I burn;
If you will save my life, go fetch it me.
PROS. Oh, strange humour, my very breath hath poison'd him.
HES. Good brother, be content, what do you mean?
The strength of these extreme conceits will kill you.
BIA. Beshrew your heart-blood, brother Prospero,
For putting such a toy into his head.
PROS. Is a fit simile a toy? will he be poison'd with a simile?
Brother Thorello, what a strange and vain imagination is this?
For shame to be wiser, on my soul there's no such matter.
THO. Am I not sick? how am I then not poison'd?
Am I not poison'd? how am I then so sick?
BIA. If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick.
PROS. His jealousy is the poison he hath taken.
[ENTER MUSCO LIKE THE DOCTOR'S MAN.
MUS. Signior Thorello, my master, Doctor Clement, salutes you, and desires
to speak with you, with all speed possible.
THO. No time but now? Well, I'll wait upon his worship, Piso, Cob, I'll
seek them out, and set them sentinels till I return. Piso, Cob, Piso
[EXIT.
PROS. Musco, this is rare, but how got'est thou this apparel of the
Doctor's man?
MUS. Marry sir. My youth would needs bestow the wine on me to hear some
martial discourse; where I so marshall'd him, that I made him monstrous
drunk, and because too much heat was the cause of his distemper, I stript
him stark naked as he lay along asleep, and borrowed his suit to deliver
this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty armour and an old brown bill
to watch him till my return: which shall be when I have pawn'd his
apparel, and spent the money perhaps.
PROS. Well, thou art a mad knave, Musco, his absence will be a good
subject for more mirth: I pray thee return to thy young master Lorenzo,
and will him to meet me and Hesperida at the Friary presently: for here,
tell him, the house is so stored with jealousy, that there is no room for
love to stand upright in: but I'll use such means she shall come thither,
and that I think will meet best with his desires: Hie thee, good Musco.
MUS. I go, sir.
[EXIT.
[ENTER THORELLO, TO HIM PISO.
THO. Ho, Piso, Cob, where are these villains, trow?
Oh, art thou there? Piso, hark thee here:
Mark what I say to thee, I must go forth;
Be careful of thy promise, keep good watch,
Note every gallant and observe him well,
That enters in my absence to thy mistress;
If she would shew him rooms, the jest is stale,
Follow them, Piso, or else hang on him,
And let him not go after, mark their looks;
Note if she offer but to see his band,
Or any other amorous toy about him,
But praise his leg, or foot, or if she say,
The day is hot, and bid him feel her hand,
How hot it is, oh, that's a monstrous thing:
Note me all this, sweet Piso; mark their sighs,
And if they do but whisper, break them off,
I'll bear thee out in it: wilt thou do this?
Wilt thou be true, sweet Piso?
PIS. Most true, sir.
THO. Thanks, gentle Piso: where is Cob? Now: Cob?
[EXIT THORELLO.
BIA. He's ever calling for Cob, I wonder how he employs Cob so.
PROS. Indeed, sister, to ask how he employs Cob is a necessary question
for you that are his wife, and a thing not very easy for you to be
satisfied in: but this I'll assure you, Cob's wife is an excellent bawd
indeed, and oftentimes your husband haunts her house, marry, to what end I
cannot altogether accuse him, imagine you what you think convenient: but I
have known fair hides have foul hearts ere now, I can tell you.
BIA. Never said you truer than that, brother! Piso, fetch your cloke, and
go with me, I'll after him presently: I would to Christ I could take him
there, I'faith.
[EXEUNT PISO AND BIANCHA.
PROS. So let them go: this may make sport anon, now, my fair sister
Hesperida: ah, that you knew how happy a thing it were to be fair and
beautiful!
HES. That toucheth not me, brother.
PROS. That's true: that's even the fault of it, for indeed beauty stands
a woman in no stead, unless it procure her touching: but, sister, whether
it touch you or no, it touches your beauties, and I am sure they willabide
the touch, as they do not, a plague of all ceruse, say I! And it touches
me too in part, though not in thee. Well, there's a dear and respected
friend of mine, sister, stands very strongly affected towards you, and hath
vowed to inflame whole bonfires of zeal in his heart, in honour of your
perfections. I have already engaged my promise to bring you where you
shall hear him confirm much more than I am able to lay down for him:
Signior Lorenzo is the man: what say you, sister; shall I intreat so much
favour of you for my friend, as to direct and attend you to his meeting?
Upon my soul, he loves you extremely, approve it, sweet Hesperida, will you?
HES. Faith, I had very little confidence in mine own constancy, if I durst
not meet a man: but, brother Prospero, this motion of yours savours of an
old knight adventurer's servant, methinks.
PROS. What's that, sister?
HES. Marry, of the squire.
PROS. No matter, Hesperida, if it did, I would be such an one for my
friend, but say, will you go?
HES. Brother, I will, and bless my happy stars.
[ENTER CLEMENT AND THORELLO.
CLEM. Why, what villainy is this, my man gone on a false message, and run
away when he has done, why, what trick is there in it, trow! 1, 2, 3, 4,
and 5.
THO. How! Is my wife gone forth, where is she, sister!
HES. She's gone abroad with Piso.
THO. Abroad with Piso? Oh, that villain dors me,
He hath discovered all unto my wife,
Beast that I was to trust him: whither went she?
HES. I know not, sir.
PROS. I'll tell you, brother, whither I suspect she's gone.
THO. Whither, for God's sake!
PROS. To Cob's house, I believe: but keep my counsel.
THO. I will, I will, to Cob's house! Doth she haunt Cob's?
She's gone with a purpose now to cuckold me,
With that lewd rascal, who to win her favour,
Hath told her all
[EXIT.
CLEM. But did your mistress see my man bring him a message?
PROS. That we did, master Doctor.
CLEM. And whither went the knave?
PROS. To the tavern, I think, sir.
CLEM. What, did Thorello give him any thing to spend for the message he
brought him? if he did I should commend my man's wit exceedingly if he
would make himself drunk with the joy of it, farewell, lady, keep good
rule, you two, I beseech you now: by God's --; marry, my man makes me
laugh.
[EXIT.
PROS. What a mad doctor is this! Come, sister, let's away.
[EXEUNT.
[ENTER MATHEO AND BOBADILLA.
MAT. I wonder, Signior, what they will say of my going away, ha?
BOB. Why, what should they say? but as of a discreet gentleman.
Quick, wary, respectful of natures,
Fair lineaments, and that's all.
MAT. Why so, but what can they say of your beating?
BOB. A rude part, a touch with soft wood, a kind of gross battery used,
laid on strongly: borne most patiently, and that's all.
MAT. Ay, but would any man have offered it in Venice?
BOB. Tut, I assure you no? you shall have there your Nobilis, your
Gentilezza, come in bravely upon your reverse, stand you close, stand you
firm, stand you fair, save your retricato with his left leg, come to the
assaulto with the right, thrust with brave steel, defy your base wood. But
wherefore do I awake this remembrance? I was bewitch'd, by Jesu: but I
will be revenged.
MAT. Do you hear, is't not best to get a warrant and have him arrested,
and brought before Doctor Clement?
BOB. It were not amiss, would we had it.
[ENTER MUSCO.
MAT. Why, here comes his man, let's speak to him.
BOB. Agreed, do you speak.
MAT. God save you, sir.
MUS. With all my heart, sir.
MAT. Sir, there is one Giuliano hath abused this gentleman and me, and we
determine to make our amends by law, now if you would do us the favour to
procure us a warrant, for his arrest, of your master, you shall be well
considered, I assure I'faith, sir.
MUS. Sir, you know my service is my living, such favours as these gotten
of my master is his only preferment, and therefore you must consider me as
I may make benefit of my place.
MAT. How is that?
MUS. Faith, sir, the thing is extraordinary, and the gentleman may be of
great account: yet be what he will, if you will lay me down five crowns in
my hand, you shall have it, otherwise not.
MAT. How shall we do, Signior? You have no money.
BOB. Not a cross,, by Jesu.
MAT. Nor I, before God, but two pence, left of my two shillings in the
morning for wine and cakes, let's give him some pawn.
BOB. Pawn? we have none to the value of his demand.
MAT. O Lord, man, I'll pawn this jewel in my ear, and you may pawn your
silk stockings, and pull up your boots, they will ne'er be mist.
BOB. Well, an there be no remedy, I'll step aside and put them off.
MAT. Do you hear, sir? We have no store of money at this time,
but you shall have good pawns, look you, sir, this jewel and this
gentleman's silk stockings, because we would have it dispatch'd ere we went
to our chambers.
MUS. I am content, sir, I will get you the warrant presently. What's his
name, say you, Giuliano?
MAT. Ay, ay, Giuliano.
MUS. What manner of man is he?
MAT. A tall, big man, sir; he goes in a cloak most commonly of silk
russet, laid about with russet lace.
MUS. 'Tis very good, sir.
MAT. Here, sir, here's my jewel.
BOB. And here are stockings.
MUS. Well, gentlemen, I'll procure this warrant presently, and appoint you
a varlet of the city to serve it, if you'll be upon the Realto anon, the
varlet shall meet you there.
MAT. Very good, sir, I wish no better.
[EXEUNT BOBA. AND MAT.
MUS. This is rare, now will I go pawn this cloak of the doctor's man's at
the broker's for a varlet's suit, and be the varlet myself, and get either
more pawns, or more money of Giuliano for my arrest.
[EXIT.
----------------------
ACT V
SCENE I. - ENTER LORENZO SENIOR.
LOR. SE. Oh, here it is, I am glad I have found it now.
Ho! Who is within here?
[ENTER TIB.
TIB. I am within, sir, what's your pleasure?
LOR. SE. To know who is within besides yourself.
TIB. Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope?
LOR. SE. Oh, fear you the constable? Then I doubt not,
You have some guests within deserve that fear;
I'll fetch him straight.
TIB. O' God's name, sir.
LOR. SE. Go to, tell me is not the young Lorenzo here?
TIB. Young Lorenzo, I saw none such, sir, of mine honesty.
LOR. SE. Go to, your honesty flies too lightly from you:
There's no way but fetch the constable.
TIB. The constable, the man is mad, I think.
[CLAPS TO THE DOOR.
[ENTER PISO AND BIANCHA.
PISO. Ho, who keeps house here?
LOR. SE. Oh, this is the female copes-mate of my son.
Now shall I meet him straight.
BIA. Knock, Piso, pray thee.
PIS. Ho, good wife.
TIB. Why, what's the matter with you?
BIA. Why, woman, grieves it you to ope your door?
Belike you get something to keep it shut.
TIB. What mean these questions, pray ye?
BIA. So strange you make it! Is not Thorello, my tried husband, here?
LOR. SE. Her husband?
TIB. I hope he needs not be tried here.
BIA. No, dame: he doth it not for need but pleasure.
TIB. Neither for need nor pleasure is he here.
LOR. SE. This is but a device to balk me withal; Soft, who's this?
[ENTER THORELLO.
BIA. Oh, sir, have I forestall'd your honest market?
Found your close walks? You stand amazed now, do you?
I'faith (I am glad) I have smoked you yet at last;
What's your jewel, trow? In: come, let's see her;
Fetch forth your housewife, dame; if she be fairer
In any honest judgment than myself,
I'll be content with it: but she is change,
She feeds you fat; she soothes your appetite,
And you are well: your wife, an honest woman,
Is meat twice sod to you, sir; Oh, you treachour.
LOR. SE. She cannot counterfeit this palpably.
THO. Out on thee, more than strumpet's impudency,
Steal'st thou thus to thy haunts? And have I taken
Thy bawd and thee, and thy companion,
This hoary-headed letcher, this old goat,
Close at your villainy, and would'st thou 'scuse it,
With this stale harlot's jest, accusing me?
Oh, old incontinent, dost thou not shame,
When all thy powers in chastity are spent,
To have a mind so hot? And to entice
And feed the enticements of a lustful woman?
BIA. Out, I defy thee, I, dissembling wretch?
THO. Defy me, strumpet? Ask thy pander here,
Can he deny it? Or that wicked elder.
LOR. SE. Why, hear you, Signior?
THO. Tut, tut, never speak,
Thy guilty conscience will discover thee.
LOR. SE. What lunacy is this that haunts this man?
[ENTER GIU.
GIU. Oh, sister, did you see my cloak?
BIA. Not I, I see none.
GIU. God's life, I have lost it then, saw you Hesperida?
THO. Hesperida? Is she not at home?
GIU. No, she is gone abroad, and nobody can tell me of it at home.
[EXIT.
THO. O heaven! abroad? What light! A harlot too!
Why? Why? hark you, hath she, hath she not a brother?
A brother's house to keep, to look unto?
But she must fling abroad, my wife hath spoil'd her,
She takes right after her, she does, she does,
Well, you goody bawd and --
[ENTER COB.
That make your husband such a hoddy-doddy;
And you, young apple squire, and old cuckold-maker,
I'll have you every one before the Doctor,
Nay, you shall answer it, I charge you go.
LOR. SE. Marry, with all my heart, I'll go willingly: how have I wrong'd
myself in coming here.
BIA. Go with thee? I'll go with thee to thy shame, I warrant thee.
COB. Why, what's the matter? what's here to do?
THO. What, Cob, art thou here? Oh, I am abused,
And in thy house, was never man so wrong'd.
COB. 'Slid, in my house? who wrong'd you in my house?
THO. Marry, young lust in old, and old in young here,
Thy wife's their bawd, here have I taken them.
COB. Do you hear? did I not charge you keep your doors shut here, and do
you let them lie open for all comers, do you scratch?
[COB BEATS HIS WIFE.
LOR. SE. Friend, have patience; if she have done wrong in this, let her
answer it afore the Magistrate.
COB. Ay, come, you shall go afore the Doctor.
TIB. Nay, I will go, I'll see an you may be allowed to beat your poor wife
thus at every cuckoldly knave's pleasure, the devil and the pox take you
all for me: why do you not go now?
THO. A bitter quean, come, we'll have you tamed
[EXEUNT.
[ENTER MUSCO ALONE.
MUS. Well, of all my disguises yet, now am I most like myself, being in
this varlet's suit, a man of my present profession never counterfeits till
he lay hold upon a debtor, and says he rests him, for then he brings him to
all manner of unrest. A kind of little kings we are, bearing the
diminutive of a mace, made like a young artichoke, that always carries
pepper and salt in itself, well, I know not what danger I undergo by this
exploit, pray God I come well off.
[ENTER BOBADILLA AND MATHEO.
MAT. See, I think yonder is the varlet.
BOB. Let's go in quest of him.
MAT. God save you, friend, are not you here by the appointment of Doctor
Clement's man?
MUS. Yes, an't please you, sir; he told me two gentlemen had will'd him to
procure an arrest upon one Signior Giuliano by a warrant from his master,
which I have about me.
MAT. It is honestly done of you both; and see where he comes you must
arrest; upon him, for God's sake, before he be 'ware.
BOB. Bear back, Matheo!
[ENTER STEPHANO.
MUS. Signior Giuliano, I arrest you, sir, in the Duke's name.
STEP. Signior Giuliano! am I Signior Giuliano? I am one Signior
Stephano, I tell you, and you do not well, by God's lid, to arrest me, I
tell you truly; I am not in your master's books, I would you should well
know; ay, and a plague of God on you for making me afraid thus.
MUS. Why, how are you deceived, gentlemen?
BOB. He wears such a cloak, and that deceived us,
But see, here a comes, officer, this is he.
[ENTER GIULIANO.
GIU. Why, how now, signior gull: are you a turn'd filcher of late? come,
deliver my cloak.
STEP. Your cloak, sir? I bought it even now in the market.
MUS. Signior Giuliano, I must arrest you, sir.
GIU. Arrest me, sir, at whose suit?
MUS. At these two gentlemen's.
GIU. I obey thee, varlet; but for these villains -
MUS. Keep the peace, I charge you, sir, in the Duke's name, sir.
GIU. What's the matter, varlet?
MUS. You must go before master Doctor Clement, sir, to answer what these
gentlemen will object against you, hark you, sir, I will use you kindly.
MAT. We'll be even with you, sir, come, Signior Bobadilla, we'll go before
and prepare the Doctor: varlet, look to him.
[EXEUNT BOBADILLA AND MATHEO.
BOB. The varlet is a tall man, by Jesu.
GIU. Away, you rascals, Signior, I shall have my cloak.
STEP. Your cloak? I say once again, I bought it, and I'll keep it.
GIU. You will keep it?
STEP. Ay, that I will.
GIU. Varlet, stay, here's thy fee, arrest him.
MUS. Signior Stephano, I arrest you.
STEP. Arrest me! there, take your cloak: I'll none of it.
GIU. Nay, that shall not serve your turn, varlet, bring him away, I'll go
with thee now to the Doctor's, and carry him along.
STEP. Why, is not here your cloak? what would you have?
GIU. I care not for that.
MUS. I pray you, sir.
GIU. Never talk of it; I will have him answer it.
MUS. Well, sir, then I'll leave you, I'll take this gentleman's word for
his appearance, as I have done yours.
GIU. Tut, I'll have no words taken, bring him along to answer it.
MUS. Good sir, I pity the gentleman's case, here's your money again.
GIU. God's bread, tell not me of my money, bring him away, I say.
MUS. I warrant you, he will go with you of himself.
GIU. Yet more ado?
MUS. I have made a fair mash of it.
STEP. Must I go?
[EXEUNT.
ENTER DOCTOR CLEMENT, THORELLO, LORENZO SENIOR, BIANCHA, PISO, TIB, A
SERVANT OR TWO OF THE DOCTOR'S.
CLEM. Nay, but stay, stay, give me leave; my chair, sirrah; you, Signior
Lorenzo, say you went thither to meet your son.
LOR. SE. Ay, sir.
CLEM. But who directed you thither?
LOR. SE. That did my man, sir.
CLEM. Where is he?
LOR. SE. Nay, I know not now, I left him with your clerk,
And appointed him to stay here for me.
CLEM. About what time was this?
LOR. SE. Marry, between one and two, as I take it.
CLEM. So, what time came my man with the message to you, Signior Thorello?
THO. After two, sir.
CLEM. Very good, but, lady, how that you were at Cob's, ha?
BIA. An't please you, sir, I'll tell you: my brother Prospero told me
that Cob's house was a suspected place.
CLEM. So it appears, methinks; but on.
BIA. And that my husband used thither daily.
CLEM. No matter, so he use himself well.
BIA. True, sir, but you know what grows by such haunts oftentimes.
CLEM. Ay, rank fruits of a jealous brain, lady: but did you find your
husband there in that case, as you suspected?
THO. I found her there, sir.
CLEM. Did you so? that alters the case; who gave you knowledge of your
wife's being there?
THO. Marry, that did my brother Prospero.
CLEM. How, Prospero first tell her, then tell you after? Where is Prospero?
THO. Gone with my sister, sir, I know not whither.
CLEM. Why, this is a mere trick, a device; you are gulled in this most
grossly: alas, poor wench, wert thou beaten for this? how now, sirrah,
what's the matter?
[ENTER ONE OF THE DOCTOR'S MEN.
SER. Sir, there's a gentleman in the court without desires to speak with
your worship.
CLEM. A gentleman? what's he?
SER. A soldier, sir, he sayeth.
CLEM. A soldier? fetch me my armour, my sword, quickly; a soldier speak
with me, why, when, knaves? -- come on, come on, hold my cap there, so;
give me my gorget, my sword; stand by, I will end your matters anon; let
the soldier enter, now, sir, what have you to say to me?
[ENTER BOBADILLA AND MATHEO.
BOB. By your worship's favour.
CLEM. May, keep out, sir, I know not your pretence, you send me word, sir,
you are a soldier, why, sir, you shall be answered here, here be them have
been amongst soldiers. Sir, your pleasure.
BOB. Faith, sir, so it is: this gentleman and myself have been most
violently wronged by one Signior Giuliano: a gallant of the city here; and
for my own part, I protest, being a man in no sort given to this filthy
humour of quarrelling, he hath assaulted me in the way of my peace,
despoiled me of mine honour, disarmed me of my weapons, and beaten me in
the open streets: when I not so much as once offered to resist him.
CLEM. Oh, God's precious, is this the soldier? here, take my armour
quickly, 'twill make him swoon, I fear; he is not fit to look on't that
will put up a blow.
[ENTER SERVANT.
MAT. An't please your worship, he was bound to the peace.
CLEM. Why, an he were, sir, his hands were not bound, were they?
SER. There is one of the varlets of the city has brought two gentlemen
here upon arrest, sir.
CLEM. Bid him come in, set by the picture.
[ENTER MUSCO WITH GIULIANO AND STEPHANO.
Now, sir, what! Signior Giuliano? is't you that are arrested at signior
freshwater's suit here?
GIU. I'faith, master Doctor, and here's another brought at my suit.
CLEM. What are you, sir?
STEP. A gentleman, sir; oh, uncle?
CLEM. Uncle? who, Lorenzo?
LOR. SE. Ay, sir.
STEP. God's my witness, my uncle, I am wrong'd here monstrously; he
chargeth me with stealing of his cloak, and would I might never stir, if I
did not find it in the street by chance.
GIU. Oh, did you find it now? you said you bought it erewhile.
STEP. And you said I stole it, nay, now my uncle is here I care not.
CLEM. Well, let this breathe awhile; you that have cause to complain
there, stand forth; had you a warrant for this arrest?
BOB. Ay, an't please your worship.
CLEM. Nay, do not speak in passion so, where had you it?
BOB. Of your clerk, sir.
CLEM. That's well, an my clerk can make warrants, and my hand not at them;
where is the warrant? varlet, have you it?
MUS. No, sir, your worship's man bid me do it for these gentlemen, and he
would be my discharge.
CLEM. Why, Signior Giuliano, are you such a novice to be arrested and
never see the warrant?
GIU. Why, sir, he did not arrest me.
CLEM. No? how then?
GIU. Marry, sir, he came to me and said he must arrest me, and he would
use me kindly, and so forth.
CLEM. Oh, God's pity, was it so, sir? he must arrest you. Give me my
long sword there; help me off, so; come on sir varlet, I must cut off your
legs, sirrah; nay, stand up, I'll use you kindly; I must cut off your legs,
I say.
MUS. Oh, good sir, I beseech you, nay, good master Doctor. Oh, good sir.
CLEM. I must do it; there is no remedy;
I must cut off your legs, sirrah.
I must cut off your ears, you rascal, I must do it;
I must cut off your nose, I must cut off your head.
MUS. Oh, for God's sake, good master Doctor.
CLEM. Well, rise; how dost thou now? dost thou feel thyself well? hast
thou no harm?
MUS. No, I thank God, sir, and your good worship.
CLEM. Why so? I said I must cut off thy legs, and I must cut off thy
arms, and I must cut off thy head; but I did not do it so: you said you
must arrest this gentleman, but you did not arrest him, you knave, you
slave, you rogue, do you say you must arrest, sirrah? away with him to the
jail, I'll teach you a trick for your must.
MUS. Good master Doctor, I beseech you be good to me.
CLEM. Marry o'God: away with him, I say.
MUS. Nay, 'sblood, before I go to prison, I'll put on my old brazen face,
and disclaim in my vocation: I'll discover, that's flat, an I be
committed, it shall be for the committing of more villainies than this,
hang me an I lose the least grain of my fame.
CLEM. Why? when, knave? by God's marry, I'll clap thee by the heels too.
MUS. Hold, hold, I pray you.
CLEM. What's the matter? Stay there.
MUS. Faith, sir, afore I go to this house of bondage, I have a case to
unfold to your worship: which (that it may appear more plain unto your
worship's view) I do thus first of all uncase, and appear in mine own
proper nature, servant to this gentleman: and known by the name of Musco.
LOR. SE. Ha, Musco!
STEP. Oh, uncle, Musco has been with my cousin and I all this day.
CLEM. Did not I tell you there was some device?
MUS. Nay, good master Doctor, since I have laid myself thus open to your
worship, now stand strong for me, till the progress of my tale be ended,
and then if my wit do not deserve your countenance, 'slight, throw it on a
dog, and let me go hang myself.
CLEM. Body of me, a merry knave, give me a bowl of sack. Signior Lorenzo,
I bespeak your patience in particular, marry, your ears in general, here,
knave, Doctor Clement drinks to thee.
MUS. I pledge master Doctor an't were a sea to the bottom.
CLEM. Fill his bowl for that, fill his bowl: so, now speak freely.
MUS. Indeed, this is it will make a man speak freely. But to the point,
know then that I, Musco, (being somewhat more trusted of my master than
reason required, and knowing his intent to Florence,) did assume the habit
of a poor soldier in wants, and minding by some means to intercept his
journey in the midway, 'twixt the grange and the city, I encountered him,
where begging of him in the most accomplished and true garb, (as they term
it) contrary to all expectation, he reclaimed me from that bad course of
life; entertained me into his service, employed me in his business, possest
me with his secrets, which I no sooner had received, but (seeking my young
master, and finding him at this gentleman's house) I revealed all most
amply: this done, by the device of Signior Prospero and him together, I
returned (as the raven did to the ark) to mine old master again, told him
he should find his son in what manner he knows, at one Cob's house, where
indeed he never meant to come; now my master, he to maintain the jest, went
thither, and left me with your worship's clerk, who, being of a most fine
supple disposition, (as most of your clerks are) proffers me the wine,
which I had the grace to accept very easily, and to the tavern we went:
there after much ceremony, I made him drunk in kindness, stript him to his
shirt, and leaving him in that cool vein, departed, frolick, courtier-like,
having obtained a suit: which suit fitting me exceedingly well, I put on,
and usurping your man's phrase and action, carried a message to Signior
Thorello in your name; which message was merely devised but to procure his
absence, while Signior Prospero might make a conveyance of Hesperida to my
master.
CLEM. Stay, fill me the bowl again, here; 'twere pity of his life would
not cherish such a spirit: I drink to thee, fill him wine, why, now do you
perceive the trick of it?
THO. Ay, ay, perceive well we were all abused.
LOR. SE. Well, what remedy?
CLEM. Where is Lorenzo and Prospero, canst thou tell?
MUS. Ay, sir, they are at supper at the Mermaid, where I left your man.
CLEM. Sirrah, go warn them hither presently before me, and if the hour of
your fellow's resurrection be come, bring him too. But forward, forward,
when thou has been at Thorello's.
[EXIT SERVANT.
MUS. Marry, sir, coming along the street, these two gentlemen meet me, and
very strongly supposing me to be your worship's scribe, entreated me to
procure them a warrant for the arrest of Signior Giuliano, I promised them,
upon some pair of silk stockings or a jewel, or so, to do it, and to get a
varlet of the city to serve it, which varlet I appointed should meet them
upon the Realto at such an hour, they no sooner gone, but I, in a mere hope
of more gain by Signior Giuliano, went to one of Satan's old ingles, a
broker, and there pawned your man's livery for a varlet's suit, which here,
with myself, I offer unto your worship's consideration.
CLEM. Well, give me thy hand; Proh. Superi ingenium magnum quis noscit
Homerum. Illias oeternum si latuisset opus? I admire thee, I honour thee,
and if thy master or any man here be angry with thee, I shall suspect his
wit while I know him for it: do you hear, Signior Thorello, Signior
Lorenzo, and the rest of my good friends, I pray you let me have peace when
they come, I have sent for the two gallants and Hesperida, God's marry, I
must have you, friends, but now? what noise is there?
[ENTER SERVANT, THEN PETO.
SER. Sir, it is Peto is come home.
CLEM. Peto, bring him hither, bring him hither, what, how now, signior
drunkard, in arms against me, ha? your reason, your reason for this.
PET. I beseech your worship to pardon me.
CLEM. Well, sirrah, tell him I do pardon him.
PET. Truly, sir, I did happen into bad company by chance, and they cast me
in a sleep and stript me of all my clothes.
CLEM. Tut, this is not to the purpose touching your armour, what might
your armour signify?
PET. Marry, sir, it hung in the room where they stript me, and I borrowed
it of one of the drawers, now in the evening, to come home in, because I
was loth to come through the street in my shirt.
[ENTER LORENZO JUNIOR, PROSPERO, HESPERIDA.
CLEM. Well, disarm him, but it's no matter, let him stand by: who be
these? oh, young gallants; welcome, welcome, and you, lady, nay, never
scatter such amazed looks amongst us, Qui nil potest sperare desperet nihil.
PROS. Faith, master Doctor, that's even I, my hopes are small, and my
despair shall be as little. Brother, sister, brother, what, cloudy,
cloudy? "and will no sunshine on these looks appear?" Well, since there
is such a tempest toward, I'll be the porpoise, I'll dance: wench, be of
good cheer, thou hast a cloak for the rain yet, where is he? 'Sheart, how
now, the picture of the prodigal, go to, I'll have the calf drest for you
at my charges.
LOR. SE. Well, son Lorenzo, this day's work of yours hath much deceived my
hopes, troubled my peace, and stretch'd my patience further than became the
spirit of duty.
CLEM. Nay, God's pity, Signior Lorenzo, you shall urge it no more: come,
since you are here, I'll have the disposing of all, but first, Signior
Giuliano, at my request take your cloak again.
GIU. Well, sir, I am content.
CLEM. Stay, now let me see, oh signior snow-liver, I had almost forgotten
him, and your Genius there, what, doth he suffer for a good conscience too?
doth he bear his cross with patience?
MUS. Nay, they have scarce one cross between them both to bear.
CLEM. Why, dost thou know him? what is he? what is he?
MUS. Marry, search his pocket, sir, and he'll shew you he is an author, sir.
CLEM. Dic mihi musa virum: are you an author, sir? give me leave a
little, come on, sir, I'll make verses with you now in honour of the gods
and the goddesses for what you dare extempore; and now I begin.
"Mount thee my Phlegon muse, and testify,
How Saturn sitting in an ebon cloud,
Disrobed his podex, white as ivory,
And through the welkin thunder'd all aloud."
There's for you, sir.
PROS. Oh, he writes not in that height of style.
CLEM. No: we'll come a step or two lower then.
"From Catadupa and the banks of Nile,
Where only breeds your monstrous crocodile,
Now are we purposed for to fetch our style."
PROS. Oh, too far-fetch'd for him still, master Doctor.
CLEM. Ay, say you so? let's intreat a sight of his vein then.
PROS. Signior, master Doctor desires to see a sight of your vein, nay you
must not deny him.
CLEM. What, all this verse, body of me, he carries a whole realm; a
commonwealth of paper in his hose, let's see some of his subjects.
"Unto the boundless ocean of thy beauty,
Runs this poor river, charg'd with streams of zeal,
Returning thee the tribute of my duty:
Which here my youth, my plaints, my love reveal."
Good! is this your own invention?
MAT. No, sir, I translated that out of a book, called 'Delia'.
CLEM. Oh, but I would see some of your own, some of your own.
MAT. Sir, here's the beginning of a sonnet I made to my mistress.
CLEM. That, that: who? to Madonna Hesperida, is she your mistress?
PROS. It pleaseth him to call her so, sir.
CLEM. "In summer time, when Phoebus' golden rays".
You translated this too, did you not?
PROS. No, this is invention; he found it in a ballad.
MAT. Faith sir, I had most of the conceit of it out of a ballad indeed.
CLEM. Conceit, fetch me a couple of torches, sirrah,
I may see the conceit: quickly! it's very dark!
GIU. Call you this poetry?
LOR. JU. Poetry? nay, then call blasphemy, religion;
Call devils, angels; and sin, piety:
Let all things be preposterously transchanged.
LOR. SE. Why, how now, son! what are you startled now?
Hath the brize prick'd you, ha? go to; you see
How abjectly your poetry is rank'd in general opinion.
LOR. JU. Opinion, O God, let gross opinion sink and be damn'd
As deep as Barathrum,
If it may stand with your most wish'd content,
I can refell opinion and approve
The state of poesy, such as it is,
Blessed, eternal, and most true divine:
Indeed, if you will look on Poesy
As she appears in many, poor and lame,
Patch'd up in remnants and old worn rags,
Half starved for want of her peculiar food:
Sacred invention, then I must confirm
Both your conceit and censure of her merit,
But view her in her glorious ornaments,
Attired in the majesty of art,
Set high in spirit, with the precious taste
Of sweet philosophy, and which is most,
Crown'd with the rich traditions of a soul
That hates to have her dignity profaned
With any relish of an earthly thought:
Oh, then how proud a presence doth she bear.
Then is she like herself, fit to be seen
Of none but grave and consecrated eyes:
Nor is it any blemish to her fame,
That such lean, ignorant, and blasted wits,
Such brainless gulls, should utter their stol'n wares
With such applauses in our vulgar ears:
Or that their slubber'd lines have current pass
From the fat judgments of the multitude,
But that this barren and infected age
Should set no difference 'twixt these empty spirits
And a true poet: than which reverend name
Nothing can more adorn humanity.
[ENTER WITH TORCHES.
CLEM. Ay, Lorenzo, but election is now governed altogether by the
influence of humour, which, instead of those holy flames that should direct
and light the soul to eternity, hurls forth nothing but smoke and congested
vapours, that stifle her up, and bereave her of all sight and motion. But
she must have a store of hellebore given her to purge these gross
obstructions: oh, that's well said, give me thy torch, come, lay this
stuff together. So, give fire! there, see, see, how our poet's glory
shines brighter and brighter, still, still it increaseth, oh, now it's at
the highest, and now it declines as fast: you may see, gallants, "sic
transit gloria mundi". Well now, my two signior outsides, stand forth, and
lend me your large ears, to a sentence, to a sentence: first, you,
Signior, shall this night to the cage, and so shall you, sir, from thence
to-morrow morning, you, Signior, shall be carried to the market cross, and
be there bound: and so shall you, sir, in a large motley coat, with a rod
at your girdle; and you in an old suit of sackcloth, and the ashes of your
papers (save the ashes, sirrah) shall mourn all day, and at night both
together sing some ballad of repentance very piteously, which you shall
make to the tune of "Who list to lead and a soldier's life". Sirrah
bill-man, embrace you this torch, and light the gentlemen to their
lodgings, and because we tender their safety, you shall watch them
to-night, you are provided for the purpose, away, and look to your charge
with an open eye, sirrah.
BOB. Well, I am arm'd in soul against the worst of fortune.
MAT. Faith, so should I be, an I had slept on it.
PET. I am arm'd too, but I am not like to sleep on it.
MUS. Oh, how this pleaseth me.
[EXEUNT.
CLEM. Now, Signior Thorello, Giuliano, Prospero, Biancha.
STEP. And not me, sir.
CLEM. Yes, and you, sir: I had lost a sheep an he had not bleated, I must
have you all friends: but first a word with you, young gallant, and you,
lady.
GIU. Well, brother Prospero, by this good light that shines here, I am
loth to kindle fresh coals, but an you had come in my walk within these two
hours I had given you that you should not have clawed off again in haste,
by Jesus, I had done it, I am the arrant'st rogue that ever breathed else,
but now beshrew my heart if I bear you any malice in the earth.
PROS. Faith, I did it but to hold up a jest, and help my sister to a
husband, but, brother Thorello, and sister, you have a spice of the jealous
yet, both of you, (in your hose, I mean,) come, do not dwell upon your
anger so much, let's all be smooth foreheaded once again.
THOR. He plays upon my forehead, brother Giuliano, I pray you tell me one
thing I shall ask you: is my forehead any thing rougher than it was wont
to be?
GIU. Rougher? your forehead is smooth enough, man.
THO. Why should he then say, be smooth foreheaded,
Unless he jested at the smoothness of it?
And that may be, for horn is very sooth;
So are my brows, by Jesu, smooth as horn!
BIA. Brother, had he no haunt thither, in good faith?
PROS. No, upon my soul.
BIA. Nay, then, sweet-heart: nay, I pray thee, be not angry, god faith,
I'll never suspect thee any more, nay, kiss me, sweet muss.
THO. Tell me, Biancha, do not you play the woman with me.
BIA. What's that, sweet-heart?
THO. Dissemble.
BIA. Dissemble?
THO. Nay, do not turn away: but say i'faith was it not a match appointed
'twixt this old gentleman and you?
BIA. A match?
THO. Nay, if it were not, I do not care: do not weep, I pray thee, sweet
Biancha, nay, so now! by Jesus, I am not jealous, but resolved I have the
faithful'st wife in Italy.
"For this I find, where jealousy is fed,
Horns in the mind are worse than on the head.
See what a drove of horns fly in the air,
Wing'd with my cleansed and my credulous breath:
Watch them, suspicious eyes, watch where they fall,
See, see, on heads that think they have none at all.
Oh, what a plenteous world of this will come,
When air rains horns, all men be sure of some:
CLEM. Why that's well, come then: what say you, are all agreed? doth
none stand out?
PROS. None but this gentleman: to whom in my own person I owe all duty
and affection; but most seriously intreat pardon, for whatsoever hath past
in these occurrants that might be contrary to his most desired content.
LOR. SE. Faith sir, it is a virtue that pursues
Any save rude and uncomposed spirits,
To make a fair construction, and indeed
Not to stand off, when such respective means
Invite a general content in all.
CLEM. Well, then I conjure you all here to put off all discontentment,
first, you Signior Lorenze, your cares; you, and you, your jealousy; you,
our anger, and you, your wit, sir; and for a peace-offering, here's one
willing to be sacrificed upon this altar: say, do you approve my motion?
PROS. We do, I'll be mouth for all.
CLEM. Why, then I wish them all joy, and now, to make our evening
happiness more full: this night you shall be all my guests: where we'll
enjoy the very spirit of mirth, and carouse to the health of this heroic
spirit, whom to honour the more I do invest in my own robes, desiring you
two, Giuliano and Prospero, to be his supporters, the train to follow,
myself will lead, ushered by my page here with this honourable verse --
"Claudite jam rivos pueri sat prata biberunt".
----------------------------------------------
GLOSSARY
ABATE, cast down, subdue
ABHORRING, repugnant (to), at variance
ABJECT, base, degraded thing, outcast
ABRASE, smooth, blank
ABSOLUTE(LY), faultless(ly)
ABSTRACTED, abstract, abstruse
ABUSE, deceive, insult, dishonour, make ill use of
ACATER, caterer
ACATES, cates
ACCEPTIVE, willing, ready to accept, receive
ACCOMMODATE, fit, befitting. (The word was a fashionable one and used on
all occasions. See "Henry IV.," pt. 2, iii.4)
ACCOST, draw near, approach
ACKNOWN, confessedly acquainted with
ACME, full maturity
ADALANTADO, lord deputy or governor of a Spanish province
ADJECTION, addition
ADMIRATION, astonishment
ADMIRE, wonder, wonder at
ADROP, philosopher's stone, or substance from which obtained
ADSCRIVE, subscribe
ADULTERATE, spurious, counterfeit
ADVANCE, life
ADVERTISE, inform, give intelligence
ADVERTISED, "be --," be it known to you
ADVERTISEMENT, intelligence
ADVISE, consider, bethink oneself, deliberate
ADVISED, informed, aware; "are you --?" have you found that out?
AFFECT, love, like; aim at; move
AFFECTED, disposed; beloved
AFFECTIONATE, obstinate; prejudiced
AFFECTS, affections
AFFRONT, "give the -- ," face
AFFY, have confidence in; betroth
AFTER, after the manner of
AGAIN, AGAINST, in anticipation of
AGGRAVATE, increase, magnify, enlarge upon
AGNOMINATION. See Paranomasie
AIERY, nest, brood
AIM, guess
ALL HID, children's cry at hide-and-seek
ALL-TO, completely, entirely ("all-to-be-laden")
ALLOWANCE, approbation, recognition
ALMA-CANTARAS (astron.), parallels of altitude
ALMAIN, name of a dance
ALMUTEN, planet of chief influence in the horoscope
ALONE, unequalled, without peer
ALUDELS, subliming pots
AMAZED, confused, perplexed
AMBER, AMBRE, ambergris
AMBREE, MARY, a woman noted for her valour at the siege of Ghent, 1458
AMES-ACE, lowest throw at dice
AMPHIBOLIES, ambiguities
AMUSED, bewildered, amazed
AN, if
ANATOMY, skeleton, or dissected body
ANDIRONS, fire-dogs
ANGEL, gold coin worth 10s., stamped with the figure of the archangel Michael
ANNESH CLEARE, spring known as Agnes le Clare
ANSWER, return hit in fencing
ANTIC, ANTIQUE, clown, buffoon
ANTIC, like a buffoon
ANTIPERISTASIS, an opposition which enhances the quality it opposes
APOZEM, decoction
AFFERIL, peril
APPLE-JOHN, APPLE-SQUIRE, pimp, pander
APPLY, attach
APPREHEND, take into custody
APPREHENSIVE, quick of perception; able to perceive and appreciate
APPROVE, prove, confirm
APT, suit, adapt; train, prepare; dispose, incline
APT(LY), suitable(y), opportune(ly)
APTITUDE, suitableness
ARBOR, "make the --," cut up the game (Gifford)
ARCHES, Court of Arches
ARCHIE, Archibald Armstrong, jester to James I. and Charles I.
ARGAILE, argol, crust or sediment in wine casks
ARGENT-VIVE, quicksilver
ARGUMENT, plot of a drama; theme, subject; matter in question; token, proof
ARRIDE, please
ARSEDINE, mixture of copper and zinc, used as an imitation of gold-leaf
ARTHUR, PRINCE, reference to an archery show by a society who assumed arms,
etc., of Arthur's knights
ARTICLE, item
ARTIFICIALLY, artfully
ASCENSION, evaporation, distillation
ASPIRE, try to reach, obtain, long for
ASSALTO (Ital.), assault
ASSAY, draw a knife along the belly of the deer, a ceremony of the
hunting-field
ASSOIL, solve
ASSURE, secure possession or reversion of
ATHANOR, a digesting furnace, calculated to keep up a constant heat
ATONE, reconcile
ATTACH, attack, seize
AUDACIOUS, having spirit and confidence
AUTHENTIC(AL), of authority, authorised, trustworthy, genuine
AVISEMENT, reflection, consideration
AVOID, begone! get rid of
AWAY WITH, endure
AZOCH, Mercurius Philosophorum
BABION, baboon
BABY, doll
BACK-SIDE, back premises
BAFFLE, treat with contempt
BAGATINE, Italian coin, worth about the third of a farthing
BALARD, horse of magic powers known to old romance
BALDRICK, belt worn across the breast to support bugle, etc.
BALE (of dice), pair
BALK, overlook, pass by, avoid
BALLACE, ballast
BALLOO, game at ball
BALNEUM (BAIN MARIE), a vessel for holding hot water in which other vessels
are stood for heating
BANBURY, "brother of __," Puritan
BANDOG, dog tied or chained up
BANE, woe, ruin
BANQUET, a light repast; dessert
BARB, to clip gold
BARBEL, fresh-water fish
BARE, meer; bareheaded; it was "a particular mark of state and grandeur for
the coachman to be uncovered" (Gifford)
BARLEY-GREAK, game somewhat similar to base
BASE, game of prisoner's base
BASES, richly embroidered skirt reaching to the knees, or lower
BASILISK, fabulous reptile, believed to slay with its eye
BASKET, used for the broken provision collected for prisoners
BASON, basons, etc., were beaten by the attendant mob when bad characters
were "carted"
BATE, be reduced; abate, reduce
BATOON, baton, stick
BATTEN, feed, grow fat
BAWSON, badger
BEADSMAN, PRAYER-MAN, one engaged to pray for another
BEAGLE, small hound; fig. spy
BEAR IN HAND, keep in suspense, deceive with false hopes
BEARWARD, bear leader
BEDPHERE See Phere
BEDSTAFF, (?) wooden pin in the side of the bedstead for supporting the
bedclothes (Johnson); one of the sticks of "laths"; a stick used in making
a bed
BEETLE, heavy mallet
BEG, "I'd -- him," the custody of minors and idiots was begged for;
likewise property fallen forfeit to the Crown ("your house had been begged")
BELL-MAN, night watchman
BENJAMIN, an aromatic gum
BERLINA, pillory
BESCUMBER, defile
BESLAVE, beslabber
BESOGNO, beggar
BESPAWLE, bespatter
BETHLEHEM GABOR, Transylvanian hero, proclaimed King of Hungary
BEVER, drinking
BEVIS, SIR, knight of romance whose horse was equally celebrated
BEWAY, reveal, make known
BEZANT, heraldic term: small gold circle
BEZOAR'S STONE, a remedy known by this name was a supposed antidote to poison
BID-STAND, highwayman
BIGGIN, cap, similar to that worn by the Beguines; nightcap
BILIVE (belive), with haste
BILE, nothing, empty talk
BILL, kind of pike
BILLET, wood cut for fuel, stick
BIRDING, thieving
BLACK SANCTUS, burlesque hymn, any unholy riot
BLANK, originally a small French coin
BLANK, white
BLANKET, toss in a blanket
BLAZE, outburst of violence
BLAZE, (her.) blazon; publish abroad
BLAZON, armorial bearings; fig. all that pertains to good birth and breeding
BLIN, "withouten --," without ceasing
BLOW, puff up
BLUE, colour of servants' livery, hence "-- order," "-- waiters"
BLUSHET, blushing one
BOB, jest, taunt
BOB, beat, thump
BODGE, measure
BODKIN, dagger, or other short, pointed weapon; long pin with which the
women fastened up their hair
BOLT, roll (of material)
BOLT, dislodge, rout out; sift (boulting-tub)
BOLT'S-HEAD, long, straight-necked vessel for distillation.
BOMBARD SLOPS, padded, puffed-out breeches
BONA ROBA, "good, wholesome, plum-cheeked wench" (Johnson) -- not always
used in compliment
BONNY-CLABBER, sour butter-milk
BOOKHOLDER, prompter
BOOT, "to --," into the bargain; "no --," of no avail
BORACHIO, bottle made of skin
BORDELLO, brothel
BORNE IT, conducted, carried it through
BOTTLE (of han), bundle, truss
BOTTOM, skein or ball of thread; vessel
BOURD, jest
BOVOLI, snails or cockles dressed in the Italian manner (Gifford)
BOW-POT, flower vase or pot
BOYE, "terrible --," "angry --," roystering young bucks. (See Nares)
BRABBLES (BRABBLESH), brawls
BRACH, bitch
BRADAMANTE, a heroine in 'Orlando Furioso'
BRADLEY, ARTHUR OF, a lively character commemorated in ballads
BRAKE, frame for confining a norse's feet while being shod, or strong curb
or bridle; trap
BRANCHED, with "detached sleeve ornaments, projecting from the shoulders of
the gown" (Gifford)
BRANDISH, flourish of weapon
BRASH, brace
BRAVE, bravado, braggart speech
BRAVE (adv.), gaily, finely (apparelled)
BRAVERIES, gallants
BRAVERY, extravagant gaiety of apparel
BRAVO, bravado, swaggerer
BRAZEN-HEAD, speaking head made by Roger Bacon
BREATHE, pause for relaxation; exercise
BREATH UPON, speak dispraisingly of
BREND, burn
BRIDE-ALE, wedding feast
BRIEF, abstract; (mus.) breve
BRISK, smartly dressed
BRIZE, breese, gadfly
BROAD-SEAL, state seal
BROCK, badger (term of contempt)
BROKE, transact business as a broker
BROOK, endure, put up with
BROUGHTON, HUGH, an English divine and Hebrew scholar
BRUIT, rumour
BUCK, wash
BUCKLE, bend
BUFF, leather made of buffalo skin, used for military and serjeants' coats,
etc.
BUFO, black tincture
BUGLE, long-shaped bead
BULLED, (?) boiled, swelled
BULLIONS, trunk hose
BULLY, term of familiar endearment
BUNGY, Friar Bungay, who had a familiar in the shape of a dog
BURDEN, refrain, chorus
BURGONET, closely-fitting helmet with visor
BURGULLION, braggadocio
BURN, mark wooden measures (" --ing of cans")
BURROUGH, pledge, security
BUSKIN, half-boot, foot gear reaching high up the leg
BUTT-SHAFT, barbless arrow for shooting at butts
BUTTER, NATHANIEL. ("Staple of News"), a compiler of general news. (See
Cunningham)
BUTTERY-HATCH, half-door shutting off the buttery, where provisions and
liquors were stored
BUY, "he bought me," formerly the guardianship of wards could be bought
BUZ, exclamation to enjoin silence
BUZZARD, simpleton
BY AND BY, at once
BY(E), "on the __," incidentally, as of minor or secondary importance; at
the side
BY-CHOP, by-blow, bastard
CADUCEUS, Mercury's wand
CALIVER, light kind of musket
CALLET, woman of ill repute
CALLOT, coif worn on the wigs of our judges or serjeants-at-law (Gifford)
CALVERED, crimped, or sliced and pickled. (See Nares)
CAMOUCCIO, wretch, knave
CAMUSED, flat
CAN, knows
CANDLE-RENT, rent from house property
CANDLE-WASTER, one who studies late
CANTER, sturdy beggar
CAP OF MAINTENCE, an insignia of dignity, a cap of state borne before kings
at their coronation; also an heraldic term
CAPABLE, able to comprehend, fit to receive instruction, impression
CAPANEUS, one of the "Seven against Thebes"
CARACT, carat, unit of weight for precious stones, etc.; value, worth
CARANZA, Spanish author of a book on duelling
CARCANET, jewelled ornament for the neck
CARE, take care; object
CAROSH, coach, carriage
CARPET, table-cover
CARRIAGE, bearing, behaviour
CARWHITCHET, quip, pun
CASAMATE, casemate, fortress
CASE, a pair
CASE, "in --," in condition
CASSOCK, soldier's loose overcoat
CAST, flight of hawks, couple
CAST, throw dice; vomit; forecast, calculate
CAST, cashiered
CASTING-GLASS, bottle for sprinkling perfume
CASTRIL, kestrel, falcon
CAT, structure used in sieges
CATAMITE, old form of "ganymede"
CATASTROPHE, conclusion
CATCHPOLE, sheriff's officer
CATES, dainties, provisions
CATSO, rogue, cheat
CAUTELOUS, crafty, artful
CENSURE, criticism; sentence
CENSURE, criticise; pass sentence, doom
CERUSE, cosmetic containing white lead
CESS, assess
CHANGE, "hunt --," follow a fresh scent
CHAPMAN, retail dealer
CHARACTER, handwriting
CHARGE, expense
CHARM, subdue with magic, lay a spell on, silence
CHARMING, exercising magic power
CHARTEL, challenge
CHEAP, bargain, market
CHEAR, CHEER, comfort, encouragement; food, entertainment
CHECK AT, aim reproof at
CHEQUIN, gold Italian coin
CHEVEIL, from kidskin, which is elastic and pliable
CHIAUS, Turkish envoy; used for a cheat, swindler
CHILDERMASS DAY, Innocents' Day
CHOKE-BAIL, action which does not allow of bail
CHRYSOPOEIA, alchemy
CHRYSOSPERM, ways of producing gold
CIBATION, adding fresh substances to supply the waste of evaporation
CIMICI, bugs
CINOPER, cinnabar
CIOPPINI, chopine, lady's high shoe
CIRCLING BOY, "a species of roarer; one who in some way drew a man into a
snare, to cheat or rob him" (Nares)
CIRCUMSTANCE, circumlocution, beating about the bush; ceremony, everything
pertaining to a certain condition; detail, particular
CITRONISE, turn citron colour
CITTERN, kind of guitar
CITY-WIRES, woman of fashion, who made use of wires for hair and dress
CIVIL, legal
CLAP, clack, chatter
CLAPPER-DUDGEON, downright beggar
CLAPS HIS DISH, a clap, or clack, dish (dish with a movable lid) was
carried by beggars and lepers to show that the vessel was empty, and to
give sound of their approach
CLARIDIANA, heroine of an old romance
CLARISSIMO, Venetian noble
CLEM, starve
CLICKET, latch
CLIM O' THE CLOUGHS, etc., wordy heroes of romance
CLIMATE, country
CLOSE, secret, private; secretive
CLOSENESS, secrecy
CLOTH, arras, hangings
CLOUT, mark shot at, bull's eye
CLOWN, countryman, clodhopper
COACH-LEAVES, folding blinds
COALS, "bear no --," submit to no affront
COAT-ARMOUR, coat of arms
COAT-CARD, court-card
COB-HERRING, HERRING-COB, a young herring
COB-SWAN, male swan
COCK-A-HOOP, denoting unstinted jollity; thought to be derived from turning
on the tap that all might drink to the full of the flowing liquor
COCKATRICE, reptile supposed to be produced from a cock's egg and to kill
by its eye -- used as a term of reproach for a woman
COCK-BRAINED, giddy, wild
COCKER, pamper
COCKSCOMB, fool's cap
COCKSTONE, stone said to be found in a cock's gizzard, and to possess
particular virtues
CODLING, softening by boiling
COFFIN, raised crust of a pie
COG, cheat, wheedle
COIL, turmoil, confusion, ado
COKELY, master of a puppet-show (Whalley)
COKES, fool, gull
COLD-CONCEITED, having cold opinion of, coldly affected towards
COLE-HARBOUR, a retreat for people of all sorts
COLLECTION, composure; deduction
COLLOP, small slice, piece of flesh
COLLY, blacken
COLOUR, pretext
COLOURS, "fear no --," no enemy (quibble)
COLSTAFF, cowlstaff, pole for carrying a cowl=tub
COME ABOUT, charge, turn round
COMFORTABLE BREAD, spiced gingerbread
COMING, forward, ready to respond, complaisant
COMMENT, commentary; "sometime it is taken for a lie or fayned tale"
(Bullokar, 1616)
COMMODITY, "current for --," allusion to practice of money-lenders, who
forced the borrower to take part of the loan in the shape of worthless
goods on which the latter had to make money if he could
COMMUNICATE, share
COMPASS, "in --," within the range, sphere
COMPLEMENT, completion, completement; anything required for the perfecting
or carrying out of a person or affair; accomplishment
COMPLEXION, natural disposition, constitution
COMPLIMENT, See Complement
COMPLIMENTARIES, masters of accomplishments
COMPOSITION, constitution; agreement, contract
COMPOSURE, composition
COMPTER, COUNTER, debtors' prison
CONCEALMENT, a certain amount of church property had been retained at the
dissolution of the monasteries; Elizabeth sent commissioners to search it
out, and the courtiers begged for it
CONCEIT, idea, fancy, witty invention, conception, opinion
CONCEIT, apprehend
CONCEITED, fancifully, ingeniously devised or conceived; possessed of
intelligence, witty, ingenious (hence well conceited, etc.); disposed to
joke; of opinion, possessed of an idea
CONCEIVE, understand
CONCENT, harmony, agreement
CONCLUDE, infer, prove
CONCOCT, assimilate, digest
CONDEN'T, probably conducted
CONDUCT, escort, conductor
CONEY-CATCH, cheat
CONFECT, sweetmeat
CONFER, compare
CONGIES, bows
CONNIVE, give a look, wink, of secret intelligence
CONSORT, company, concert
CONSTANCY, fidelity, ardour, persistence
CONSTANT, confirmed, persistent, faithful
CONSTANTLY, firmly, persistently
CONTEND, strive
CONTINENT, holding together
CONTROL (the point), bear or beat down
CONVENT, assembly, meeting
CONVERT, turn (oneself)
CONVEY, transmit from one to another
CONVINCE, evince, prove; overcome, overpower; convict
COP, head, top; tuft on head of birds; "a cop" may have reference to one or
other meaning; Gifford and others interpret as "conical, terminating in a
point"
COPE-MAN, chapman
COPESMATE, companion
CORV (Lat. Copia), abundance, copiousness
CORN ("powder - "), grain
COROLLARY, finishing part or touch
CORSIVE, corrosive
CORTINE, curtain, (arch.) wall between two towers, etc.
CORYAT, famous for his travels, published as 'Coryat's Crudities'
COSSET, pet lamb, pet
COSTARD, head
COSTARD-MONGER, apple-seller, coster-monger
COSTS, ribs
COTE, hut
COTHURNAL, from "cothurnus," a particular boot worn by actors in Greek tragedy
COTQUEAN, hussy
COUNSEL, secret
COUNTENANCE, means necessary for support; credit, standing
COUNTER. See Compter
COUNTER, pieces of metal or ivory for calculating at play
COUNTER, "hunt --," follow scent in reverse direction
COUNTERFEIT, false coin
COUNTERPANE, one part or counterpart of a deed or indenture
COUNTERPOINT, opposite, contrary point
COURT-DISH, a kind of drinking-cup (Halliwell); N.E.D. quotes from Bp.
Goodman's 'Court of James I.: "The king...caused his carver to cut him out
a court-dish, that is, something of every dish, which he sent him as part
of his reversion," but this does not sound like short allowance or small
receptacle
COURT-DOR, fool
COURTEAU, curtal, small horse with docked tail
COURTSHIP, courtliness
COVETISE, avarice
COWSHARD, cow dung
COXCOMB, fool's cap, fool
COY, shrink; disdain
COYSTREL, low varlet
COZEN, cheat
CRACK, lively young rogue, wag
CRACK, crack up, boast; come to grief
CRAMBE, game of crambo, in which the players find rhymes for a given word
CRANCH, craunch
CRANTON, spider-like; also fairy appellation for a fly (Gifford, who refers
to lines in Drayton's "Nimphidia")
CRIMP, game at cards
CRINCLE, draw back, turn aside
CRISPED, with curled or waved hair
CROP, gather, reap
CROPSHIRE, a kind of herring. (See N.E.D.)
CROSS, any piece of money, many coins being stamped with a cross
CROSS AND FILE, heads and tails
CROSSLET, crucible
CROWD, fiddle
CRUDITIES, undigested matter
CRUMP, curl up
CRUSADO, Portuguese gold coin, marked with a cross
CRY ("he that cried Italian):, "speak in a musical cadence," intone, or
declaim(?); cry up
CUCKING-STOOL, used for the ducking of scolds, etc.
CUCURBITE, a gourd-shaped vessel used for distillation
CUERPO, "in --," in undress
CULLICE, broth
CULLION, base fellow, coward
CULLISEN, badge worn on their arm by servants
CULVERIN, kind of cannon
CUNNING, skill
CUNNING, skilful
CUNNING-MAN, fortune-teller
CURE, care for
CURIOUS(LY), scrupulous, particular; elaborate, elegant(ly), dainty(ly)
(hence "in curious")
CURST, shrewish, mischievous
CURTAL, dog with docked tail, of inferior sort
CUSTARD, "quaking --," " -- politic," reference to a large custard which
formed part of a city feast and afforded huge entertainment, for the fool
jumped into it, and other like tricks were played. (See "All's Well, etc."
ii. 5, 40)
CUTWORK, embroidery, open-work
CYPRES (CYPRUS) (quibble), cypress (or cyprus) being a transparent
material, and when black used for mourning
DAGGER (" -- frumety"), name of tavern
DARGISON, apparently some person known in ballad or tale
DAUPHIN MY BOY, refrain of old comic song
DAW, daunt
DEAD LIFT, desperate emergency
DEAR, applied to that which in any way touches us nearly
DECLINE, turn off from; turn away, aside
DEFALK, deduct, abate
DEFEND, forbid
DEGENEROUS, degenerate
DEGREES, steps
DELATE, accuse
DEMI-CULVERIN, cannon carrying a ball of about ten pounds
DENIER, the smallest possible coin, being the twelfth part of a sou
DEPART, part with
DEPENDANCE, ground of quarrel in duello language
DESERT, reward
DESIGNMENT, design
DESPERATE, rash, reckless
DETECT, allow to be detected, betray, inform against
DETERMINE, terminate
DETRACT, draw back, refuse
DEVICE, masque, show; a thing moved by wires, etc., puppet
DEVISE, exact in every particular
DEVISED, invented
DIAPASM, powdered aromatic herbs, made into balls of perfumed paste. (See
Pomander)
DIBBLE, (?) moustache (N.E.D.); (?) dagger (Cunningham)
DIFFUSED, disordered, scattered, irregular
DIGHT, dressed
DILDO, refrain of popular songs; vague term of low meaning
DIMBLE, dingle, ravine
DIMENSUM, stated allowance
DISBASE, debase
DISCERN, distinguish, show a difference between
DISCHARGE, settle for
DISCIPLINE, reformation; ecclesiastical system
DISCLAIM, renounce all part in
DISCOURSE, process of reasoning, reasoning faculty
DISCOURTSHIP, discourtesy
DISCOVER, betray, reveal; display
DISFAVOUR, disfigure
DISPARGEMENT, legal term supplied to the unfitness in any way of a marriage
arranged for in the case of wards
DISPENSE WITH, grant dispensation for
DISPLAY, extend
DIS'PLE, discipline, teach by the whip
DISPOSED, inclined to merriment
DISPOSURE, disposal
DISPRISE, depreciate
DISPUNCT, not punctilious
DISQUISITION, search
DISSOLVED, enervated by grief
DISTANCE, (?) proper measure
DISTASTE, offence, cause of offence
DISTASTE, render distasteful
DISTEMPERED, upset, out of humour
DIVISION (mus.), variation, modulation
DOG-BOLT, term of contempt
DOLE, given in dole, charity
DOLE OF FACES, distribution of grimaces
DOOM, verdict, sentence
DOP, dip, low bow
DOR, beetle, buzzing insect, drone, idler
DOR, (?) buzz; "give the --," make a fool of
DOSSER, pannier, basket
DOTES, endowments, qualities
DOTTEREL, plover; gull, fool
DOUBLE, behave deceitfully
DOXY, wench, mistress
DRACHM, Greek silver coin
DRESS, groom, curry
DRESSING, coiffure
DRIFT, intention
DRYFOOT, track by mere scent of foot
DUCKING, punishment for minor offences
DUILL, grieve
DUMPS, melancholy, originally a mournful melody
DURINDANA, Orlando's sword
DWINDLE, shrink away, be overawed
EAN, yean, bring forth young
EASINESS, readiness
EBOLITION, ebullition
EDGE, sword
EECH, eke
EGREGIOUS, eminently excellent
EKE, also, moreover
E-LA, highest note in the scale
EGGS ON THE SPIT, important business on hand
ELF-LOCK, tangled hair, supposed to be the work of elves
EMMET, ant
ENGAGE, involve
ENGHLE. See Ingle
ENGHLE, cajole; fondle
ENGIN(E), device, contrivance; agent; ingenuity, wit
ENGINER, engineer, deviser, plotter
ENGINOUS, crafty, full of devices; witty, ingenious
ENGROSS, monopolise
ENS, an existing thing, a substance
ENSIGNS, tokens, wounds
ENSURE, assure
ENTERTAIN, take into service
ENTREAT, plead
ENTREATY, entertainment
ENTRY, place where a deer has lately passed
ENVOY, denouement, conclusion
ENVY, spite, calumny, dislike, odium
EPHEMERIDES, calendars
EQUAL, just, impartial
ERECTION, elevation in esteem
ERINGO, candied root of the sea-holly, formerly used as a sweetmeat and
aphrodisiac
ERRANT, arrant
ESSENTIATE, become assimilated
ESTIMATION, esteem
ESTRICH, ostrich
ETHNIC, heathen
EURIPUS, flux and reflux
EVEN, just equable
EVENT, fate, issue
EVENT(ED), issue(d)
EVERT, overturn
EXACUATE, sharpen
EXAMPLESS, without example or parallel
EXCALIBUR, King Arthur's sword
EXEMPLIFY, make an example of
EXEMPT, separate, exclude
EXEQUIES, obsequies
EXHALE, drag out
EXHIBITION, allowance for keep, pocket-money
EXORBITANT, exceeding limits of propriety or law, inordinate
EXORNATION, ornament
EXPECT, wait
EXPLATE, terminate
EXPLICATE, explain, unfold
EXTEMPORAL, extempore, unpremediated
EXTRACTION, essence
EXTRAORDINARY, employed for a special or temporary purpose
EXTRUDE, expel
EYE, "in --," in view
EYEBRIGHT, (?) a malt liquor in which the herb of this name was infused, or
a person who sold the same (Gifford)
EYE-TINGE, least shade or gleam
FACE, appearance
FACES ABOUT, military word of command
FACINOROUS, extremely wicked
FACKINGS, faith
FACT, deed, act, crime
FACTIOUS, seditious, belonging to a party, given to party feeling
FAECES, dregs
FAGIOLI, French beans
FAIN, forced, necessitated
FAITHFUL, believing
FALL, ruff or band turned back on the shoulders; or, veil
FALSIFY, feign (fencing term)
FAME, report
FAMILIAR, attendant spirit
FANTASTICAL, capricious, whimsical
FARCE, stuff
FAR-FET. See Fet
FARTHINGAL, hooped petticoat
FAUCET, tapster
FAULT, lack; loss, break in line of scent; "for --," in default of
FAUTOR, partisan
FAYLES, old table game similar to backgammon
FEAR(ED), affright(ed)
FEAT, activity, operation; deed, action
FEAT, elegant, trim
FEE, "in --" by feudal obligation
FEIZE, beat, belabour
FELLOW, term of contempt
FENNEL, emblem of flattery
FERE, companion, fellow
FERN-SEED, supposed to have power of rendering invisible
FET, fetched
FETCH, trick
FEUTERER (Fr. vautrier), dog-keeper
FEWMETS, dung
FICO, fig
FIGGUM, (?) jugglery
FIGMENT, fiction, invention
FIRK, frisk, move suddenly, or in jerks; "-- up," stir up, rouse; "firks
mad," suddenly behaves like a madman
FIT, pay one out, punish
FITNESS, readiness
FITTON (FITTEN), lie, invention
FIVE-AND-FIFTY, "highest number to stand on at primero" (Gifford)
FLAG, to fly low and waveringly
FLAGON CHAIN, for hanging a smelling-bottle (Fr. flacon) round the neck
(?). (See N.E.D.)
FLAP-DRAGON, game similar to snap-dragon
FLASKET, some kind of basket
FLAW, sudden gust or squall of wind
FLAWN, custard
FLEA, catch fleas
FLEER, sneer, laugh derisively
FLESH, feed a hawk or dog with flesh to incite it to the chase; initiate in
blood-shed; satiate
FLICKER-MOUSE, bat
FLIGHT, light arrow
FLITTER-MOUSE, bat
FLOUT, mock, speak and act contemptuously
FLOWERS, pulverised substance
FLY, familiar spirit
FOIL, weapon used in fencing; that which sets anything off to advantage
FOIST, cut-purse, sharper
FOND(LY), foolish(ly)
FOOT-CLOTH, housings of ornamental cloth which hung down on either side a
horse to the ground
FOOTING, foothold; footstep; dancing
FOPPERY, foolery
FOR, "-- failing," for fear of failing
FORBEAR, bear with; abstain from
FORCE, "hunt at --," run the game down with dogs
FOREHEAD, modesty; face, assurance, effrontery
FORESLOW, delay
FORESPEAK, bewitch; foretell
FORETOP, front lock of hair which fashion required to be worn upright
FORGED, fabricated
FORM, state formally
FORMAL, shapely; normal; conventional
FORTHCOMING, produced when required
FOUNDER, disable with over-riding
FOURM, form, lair
FOX, sword
FRAIL, rush basket in which figs or raisins were packed
FRAMFULL, peevish, sour-tempered
FRAPLER, blusterer, wrangler
FRAYING, "a stag is said to fray his head when he rubs it against a tree
to...cause the outward coat of the new horns to fall off" (Gifford)
FREIGHT (of the gazetti), burden (of the newspapers)
FREQUENT, full
FRICACE, rubbing
FRICATRICE, woman of low character
FRIPPERY, old clothes shop
FROCK, smock-frock
FROLICS, (?) humorous verses circulated at least (N.E.D.); couplets wrapped
round sweetmeats (Cunningham)
FRONTLESS, shameless
FROTED, rubbed
FRUMETY, hulled wheat boiled in milk and spiced
FRUMP, flout, sneer
FUCUS, dye
FUGEAND, (?) figment: flighty, restless (N.E.D.)
FULLAM, false dice
FULMART, polecat
FULSOME, foul, offensive
FURIBUND, raging, furious
GALLEY-FOIST, city-barge, used on Lord Mayor's Day, when he was sworn into
his office at Westminster (Whalley)
GALLIARD, lively dance in triple time
GAPE, be eager after
GARAGANTUA, Rabelais' giant
GARB, sheaf (Fr. Gerbe); manner, fashion, behaviour
BARD, guard, trimming, gold or silver lace, or other ornament
GARDED, faced or trimmed
GARNISH, fee
GAVEL-KIND, name of a land-tenure existing chiefly in Kent; from 16th
century often used to denote custom of dividing a deceased man's property
equally among his sons (N.E.D.)
GAZETTE, small Venetian coin worth about three-farthings
GEANCE, jaunt, errand
GEAR (GEER), stuff, matter, affair
GELID, frozen
GEMONIES, steps from which the bodies of criminals were thrown into the river
GENERAL, free, affable
GENIUS, attendant spirit
GENTRY, gentlemen; manners characteristic of gentry, good breeding
GIB-CAT, tom-cat
GIGANTOMACHIZE, start a giants' war
GIGLOT, wanton
GIMBLET, gimlet
GING, gang
GLASS ("taking in of shadows, etc."), crystal or beryl
GLEEK, card game played by three; party of three, trio; side glance
GLICK (GLEEK), jest, gibe
GLIDDER, glaze
GLORIOUSLY, of vain glory
GODWIT, bird of the snipe family
GOLD-END-MAN, a buyer of broken gold and silver
GOLL, hand
GONFALIONIER, standard-bearer, chief magistrate, etc.
GOOD, sound in credit
GOOD-Year, good luck
GOOSE-TURD, colour of. (See Turd)
GORCROW, carrion crow
GORGET, neck armour
GOSSIP, godfather
GOWKED, from "gowk," to stand staring and gaping like a fool
GRANNAM, grandam
GRASS, (?) grease, fat
GRATEFUL, agreeable, welcome
GRATIFY, give thanks to
GRATITUDE, gratuity
GRATULATE, welcome, congratulate
GRAVITY, dignity
GRAY, badger
GRICE, cub
GRIEF, grievance
GRIPE, vulture, griffin
GRIPE'S EGG, vessel in shape of
GROAT, fourpence
GROGRAN, coarse stuff made of silk and mohair, or of coarse silk
GROOM-PORTER, officer in the royal household
GROPE, handle, probe
GROUND, pit (hence "grounded judgments")
GUARD, caution, heed
GUARDANT, heraldic term: turning the head only
GUILDER, Dutch coin worth about 4d.
GULES, gullet, throat; heraldic term for red
GULL, simpleton, dupe
GUST, taste
HAB NAB, by, on, chance
HABERGEON, coat of mail
HAGGARD, wild female hawk; hence coy, wild
HALBERD, combination of lance and battle-axe
HALL, "a --!" a cry to clear the room for the dancers
HANDSEL, first money taken
HANGER, loop or strap on a sword-belt from which the sword was suspended
HAP, fortune, luck
HAPPILY, haply
HAPPINESS, appropriateness, fitness
HAPPY, rich
HARBOUR, track, trace (an animal) to its shelter
HARD-FAVOURED, harsh-featured
HARPOCRATES, Horus the child, son of Osiris, figured with a finger pointing
to his mouth, indicative of silence
HARRINGTON, a patent was granted to Lord H. for the coinage of tokens (q.v.)
HARROT, herald
HARRY NICHOLAS, founder of a community called the "Family of Love"
HAY, net for catching rabbits, etc.
HAY! (Ital. hai!), you have it (a fencing term)
HAY IN HIS HORN, ill-tempered person
HAZARD, game at dice; that which is staked
HEAD, "first --," young deer with antlers first sprouting; fig. a
newly-ennobled man
HEADBOROUGH, constable
HEARKEN AFTER, inquire; "hearken out," find, search out
HEARTEN, encourage
HEAVEN AND HELL ("Alchemist"), names of taverns
HECTIC, fever
HEDGE IN, include
HELM, upper part of a retort
HER'NSEW, hernshaw, heron
HIERONIMO (JERONIMO), hero of Kyd's "Spanish Tragedy"
HOBBY, nag
HOBBY-HORSE, imitation horse of some light material, fastened round the
waist of the morrice-dancer, who imitated the movements of a skittish horse
HODDY-DODDY, fool
HOIDEN, hoyden, formerly applied to both sexes (ancient term for leveret?
Gifford)
HOLLAND, name of two famous chemists
HONE AND HONERO, wailing expressions of lament or discontent
HOOD-WIND'D, blindfolded
HORARY, hourly
HORN-MAD, stark mad (quibble)
HORN-THUMB, cut-purses were in the habit of wearing a horn shield on the thumb
HORSE-BREAD-EATING, horses were often fed on coarse bread
HORSE-COURSES, horse-dealer
HOSPITAL, Christ's Hospital
HOWLEGLAS, Eulenspiegel, the hero of a popular German tale which related
his buffooneries and knavish tricks
HUFF, hectoring, arrogance
HUFF IT, swagger
HUISHER (Fr. huissier), usher
HUM, beer and spirits mixed together
HUMANITIAN, humanist, scholar
HUMOROUS, capricious, moody, out of humour; moist
HUMOUR, a word used in and out of season in the time of Shakespeare and Ben
Jonson, and ridiculed by both
HUMOURS, manners
HUMPHREY, DUKE, those who were dinnerless spent the dinner-hour in a part
of St. Paul's where stood a monument said to be that of the duke's; hence
"dine with Duke Humphrey," to go hungry
HURTLESS, harmless
IDLE, useless, unprofitable
ILL-AFFECTED, ill-disposed
ILL-HABITED, unhealthy
ILLUSTRATE, illuminate
IMBIBITION, saturation, steeping
IMBROCATA, fencing term: a thrust in tierce
IMPAIR, impairment
IMPART, give money
IMPARTER, any one ready to be cheated and to part with his money
IMPEACH, damage
IMPERTINENCIES, irrelevancies
IMPERTINENT(LY), irrelevant(ly), without reason or purpose
IMPOSITION, duty imposed by
IMPOTENTLY, beyond power of control
IMPRESS, money in advance
IMPULSION, incitement
IN AND IN, a game played by two or three persons with four dice
INCENSE, incite, stir up
INCERATION, act of covering with wax; or reducing a substance to softness
of wax
INCH, "to their --es," according to their stature, capabilities
INCH-PIN, sweet-bread
INCONVENIENCE, inconsistency, absurdity
INCONY, delicate, rare (used as a term of affection)
INCUBEE, incubus
INCUBUS, evil spirit that oppresses us in sleep, nightmare
INCURIOUS, unfastidious, uncritical
INDENT, enter into engagement
INDIFFERENT, tolerable, passable
INDIGESTED, shapeless, chaotic
INDUCE, introduce
INDUE, supply
INEXORABLE, relentless
INFANTED, born, produced
INFLAME, augment charge
INGENIOUS, used indiscriminantly for ingenuous; intelligent, talented
INGENUITY, ingenuousness
INGENUOUS, generous
INGINE. See Engin
INGINER, engineer. (See Enginer)
INGLE, OR ENGHLE, bosom friend, intimate, minion
INHABITABLE, uninhabitable
INJURY, insult, affront
IN-MATE, resident, indwelling
INNATE, natural
INNOCENT, simpleton
INQUEST, jury, or other official body of inquiry
INQUISITION, inquiry
INSTANT, immediate
INSTRUMENT, legal document
INSURE, assure
INTEGRATE, complete, perfect
INTELLIGENCE, secret information, news
INTEND, note carefully, attend, give ear to, be occupied with
INTENDMENT, intention
INTENT, intention, wish
INTENTION, concentration of attention or gaze
INTENTIVE, attentive
INTERESSED, implicated
INTRUDE, bring in forcibly or without leave
INVINCIBLY, invisibly
INWARD, intimate
IRPE (uncertain), "a fantastic grimace, or contortion of the body: (Gifford)
JACE, Jack o' the clock, automaton figure that strikes the hour;
Jack-a-lent, puppet thrown at in Lent
JACK, key of a virginal
JACOB'S STAFF, an instrument for taking altitudes and distances
JADE, befool
JEALOUSY, JEALOUS, suspicion, suspicious
JERKING, lashing
JEW'S TRUMP, Jew's harp
JIG, merry ballad or tune; a fanciful dialogue or light comic act
introduced at the end or during an interlude of a play
JOINED (JOINT)-STOOL, folding stool
JOLL, jowl
JOLTHEAD, blockhead
JUMP, agree, tally
JUST YEAR, no one was capable of the consulship until he was forty-three
KELL, cocoon
KELLY, an alchemist
KEMB, comb
KEMIA, vessel for distillation
KIBE, chap, sore
KILDERKIN, small barrel
KILL, kiln
KIND, nature; species; "do one's --," act according to one's nature
KIRTLE, woman's gown of jacket and petticoat
KISS OR DRINK AFORE ME, "this is a familiar expression, employed when what
the speaker is just about to say is anticipated by another" (Gifford)
KIT, fiddle
KNACK, snap, click
KNIPPER-DOLING, a well-known Anabaptist
KNITTING CUP, marriage cup
KNOCKING, striking, weighty
KNOT, company, band; a sandpiper or robin snipe (Tringa canulus);
flower-bed laid out in fanciful design
KURSINED, KYRSIN, christened
LABOURED, wrought with labour and care
LADE, load(ed)
LADING, load
LAID, plotted
LANCE-KNIGHT (Lanzknecht), a German mercenary foot-soldier
LAP, fold
LAR, household god
LARD, garnish
LARGE, abundant
LARUM, alarum, call to arms
LATTICE, tavern windows were furnished with lattices of various colours
LAUNDER, to wash gold in aqua regia, so as imperceptibly to extract some of it.
LAVE, ladle, bale
LAW, "give --," give a start (term of chase)
LAXATIVE, loose
LAY ABOARD, run alongside generally with intent to board
LEAGUER, siege, or camp of besieging army
LEASING, lying
LEAVE, leave off, desist
LEER, leering or "empty, hence, perhaps leer horse without a rider; leer is
an adjective meaning uncontrolled, hence 'leer drunkards'" (Halliwell);
according to Nares, a leer (empty) horse meant also a led horse; leeward,
left
LEESE, lose
LEGS, "make --," do obeisance
LEIGEP, resident representative
LEIGERITY, legerdemain
LEMMA, subject proposed, or title of the epigram
LENTER, slower
LET, hinder
LET, hindrance
LEVEL COIL, a rough game...in which one hunted another from his seat.
Hence used for any noisy riot (Halliwell)
LEWD, ignorant
LEYSTALLS, receptacles of filth
LIBERAL, ample
LIEGER, ledger, register
LIFT(ING), steal(ing)
LIGHT, alight
LIGHTLY, commonly, usually, often
LIKE, please
LIKELY, agreeable, pleasing
LIME-HOUND, leash-, blood-hound
LIMMER, vile, worthless
LIN, leave off
Line, "by --," by rule
LINSTOCK, staff to stick in the ground, with forked head to hold a lighted
match for firing cannon
LIQUID, clear
LIST, listen, hard; like, please
LIVERY, legal term, delivery of the possession, etc.
LOGGET, small log, stick
LOOSE, solution; upshot, issue; release of an arrow
LOSE, give over, desist from; waste
LOUTING, bowing, cringing
LUCULENT, bright of beauty
LUDGATHIANS, dealers on Ludgate Hill
LURCH, rob, cheat
LUTE, to close a vessel with some kind of cement
MACK, unmeaning expletive
MADGE_HOWLET or own, barn-owl
MAIM, hurt, injury
MAIN, chief concern (used as a quibble on heraldic term for "hand")
MAINPRISE, becoming surety for a prisoner so as to procure his release
MAINTENANCE, giving aid, or abetting
MAKE, mate
MAKE, MADE, acquaint with business, prepare(d), instruct(ed)
MALLANDERS, disease of horses
MALT HORSE, dray horse
MAMMET, puppet
MAMMOTHREPT, spoiled child
MANAGE, control (term used for breaking-in horses); handling, administration
MANGO, slave-dealer
MANGONISE, polish up for sale
MANIPLES, bundles, handfuls
MANKIND, masculine, like a virago
MANEIND, humanity
MAPLE FACE, spotted face (N.E.D.)
MARCH PANE, a confection of almonds, sugar, etc.
MARK, "fly to the --," "generally said of a goshawk when, having 'put in' a
covey of partridges, she takes stand, making the spot where they
disappeared from view until the falconer arrives to put them out to her"
(Harting, Bibl. Accip. Gloss. 226)
MARLE, marvel
MARROW-BONE MAN, one often on his knees for prayer
MARRY! exclamation derived from the Virgin's name
MARRY GIP, "probably originated from By Mary Gipcy = St. Mary of Egypt,
(N.E.D.)
MARTAGAN, Turk's cap lily
MARYHINCHCO, stringhalt
MASORETH, Masora, correct form of the scriptural text according to Hebrew
tradition
Mass, abb. for master
MAUND, beg
MAUTHER, girl, maid
MEAN, moderation
MEASURE, dance, more especially a stately one
MEAT, "carry -- in one's mouth," be a source of money or entertainment
MEATH, metheglin
MECHANICAL, belonging to mechanics, mean, vulgar
MEDITERRANEO, middle aisle of St. Paul's, a general resort for business and
amusement
MEET WITH, even with
MELICOTTON, a late kind of peach
MENSTRUE, solvent
MERCAT, market
MERD, excrement
MERE, undiluted; absolute, unmitigated
MESS, party of four
METHEGLIN, fermented liquor, of which one ingredient was honey
METOPOSCOPY, study of physiognomy
MIDDLING GOSSIP, go-between
MIGNIARD, dainty, delicate
MILE-END, training-ground of the city
MINE-MEN, sappers
MINION, form of cannon
MINSITIVE, (?) mincing, affected (N.E.D.)
MISCELLANY MADAM, "a female trader in miscellaneous articles; a dealer in
trinkets or ornaments of various kinds, such as kept shops in the New
Exchange" (Nares)
MISCELLINE, mixed grain; medley
MISCONCEIT, misconception
MISPRISE, MISPRISION, mistake, misunderstanding
MISTAKE AWAY, carry away as if by mistake
MITHRIDATE, an antidote against poison
MOCCINIGO, small Venetian coin, worth about ninepence
MODERN, in the mode; ordinary, common-place
MOMENT, force or influence of value
MONTANTO, upward stroke
MONTH'S MIND, violent desire
MOORISH, like a moor or waste
MORGLAY, sword of Bevis of Southampton
MORRICe-DANCE, dance on May Day, etc., in which certain personages were
represented
MORTALITY, death
MORT-MAL, old score, gangrene
MOSCADINO, confection flavoured with musk
MOTHER, Hysterica passio
MOTION, proposal, request; puppet, puppet-show; "one of the small figures
on the face of a large clock which was moved by the vibration of the
pendulum" (Whalley)
MOTION, suggest, propose
MOTLEY, parti-coloured dress of a fool; hence used to signify pertaining
to, or like, a fool
MOTTE, motto
MOURNIVAL, set of four aces or court cards in a hand; a quartette
MOW, setord hay or sheaves of grain
MUCH! expressive of irony and incredulity
MUCKINDER, handkerchief
MULE, "born to ride on --," judges or serjeants-at-law formerly rode on
mules when going in state to Westminster (Whally)
MULLETS, small pincers
MUM-CHANCE, game of chance, played in silence
MUN, must
MUREY, dark crimson red
MUSCOVY-GLASS, mica
MUSE, wonder
MUSICAL, in harmony
MUSS, mouse; scramble
MYROBOLANE, foreign conserve, "a dried plum, brought from the Indies"
MYSTERY, art, trade, profession.
NAIL, "to the --" (ad unguem), to perfection, to the very utmost
NATIVE, natural
NEAT, cattle
NEAT, smartly apparelled; unmixed; dainty
NEATLY, neatly finished
NEATNESS, elegance
NEIS, nose, scent
NEUF (NEAF, NEIF), fist
NEUFT, newt
NIAISE, foolish, inexperienced person
NICE, fastidious, trivial, finical, scrupulous
NICENESS, fastidiousness
NICK, exact amount; right moment; "set in the --" meaning uncertain
NICE, suit, fit' hit, seize the right moment, etc., exactly hit on, hit off
NOBLE, gold coin worth 6s.8d.
NOCENT, harmful
NIL, not will
NOISE, company of musicians
NOMENTACK, an Indian chief from Virginia
NONES, nonce
NOTABLE, egregious
NOTE, sign, token
NOUGHT, "be --," go to the devil, be hanged, etc.
NOWT-HEAD, blockhead
NUMBER, rhythm
NUPSON, oaf, simpleton
OADE, wood
OBARNI, preparation of mead
OBJECT, oppose; expose; interpose
OBLATRANT, barking, railing
OBNOXIOUS, liable, exposed; offensive
OBSERVANCE, homage, devoted service
OBSERVANT, attentive, obsequious
OBSERVE, show deference, respect
OBSERVER, one who shows deference, or waits upon another
OBSTANCY, legal phrase, "juridical opposition"
OBSTREPEROUS, clamorous, vociferous
OBSTUPEFACT, stupefied
ODLING, (?) "must have some relation to tricking and cheating" (Nares)
OMINOUS, deadly, fatal
ONCE, at once; for good and all; used also for additional emphasis
ONLY, pre-eminent, special
OPEN, make public; expound
OPPILATION, obstruction
OPPONE, oppose
OPPOSITE, antagonist
OFFPRESS, suppress
ORIGINOUS, native
ORT, remnant, scrap
OUT, "to be --." to have forgotten one's part; not at one with each other
OUTCRY, sale by auction
OUTREGUIDANCE, arrogance, presumption
OUTSPEAK, speak more than
OVERPARTED, given too difficult a part to play
OWLSPIEGEL. See Howleglass
OYEZ! (O YES!), hear ye! call of the public crier when about to make a
proclamation
PACKING PENNY, "give a --," dismiss, send packing
PAD, highway
PAD-HORSE, road-horse
PAINED (PANED) SLOPS, full breeches made of strips of different colour and
material
PAINFUL, diligent, painstaking
PAINT, blush
PALINODE, ode of recantation
PALL, weaken, dim, make stale
PALM, triumph
PAN, skirt of dress or coat
PANNEL, pad, or rough kind of saddle
PANNIER-ALLY, inhabited by tripe-sellers
PANNIER-MAN, hawker; a man employed about the inns of court to bring in
provisions, set the table, etc.
PANTOFLE, indoor shoe, slipper
PARAMENTOS, fine trappings
PARANOMASIE, a play upon words
PARANTORY, (?) peremptory
PARCEL, particle, fragment (used contemptuously); article
PARCEL, part, partly
PARCEL-POET, poetaster
PARERGA, subordinate matters
PARGET, to paint or plaster the face
PARLE, parley
PARLOUS, clever, shrewd
PART, apportion
PARTAKE, participate in
PARTED, endowed, talented
PARTICULAR, individual person
PARTIZAN, kind of halberd
PARTRICH, partridge
PARTS, qualities endowments
PASH, dash, smash
PASS, care, trouble oneself
PASSADO, fending term: a thrust
PASSAGE, game at dice
PASSINGLY, exceedingly
PASSION, effect caused by external agency
PASSION, "in --," in so melancholy a tone, so pathetically
PATOUN, (?) Fr. Paton, pellet of dough; perhaps the "moulding of the
tobacco...for the pipe" (Gifford); (?) variant of Petun, South American
name of tobacco
PATRICO, the recorder, priest, orator of strolling beggars or gipsies
PATTEN, shoe with wooden sole; "go --," keep step with, accompany
PAUCA VERBA, few words
PAVIN, a stately dance
PEACE, "with my master's --," by leave, favour
PECULIAR, individual, single
PEDANT, teacher of the languages
PEEL, baker's shovel
PEEP, speak in a small or shrill voice
PEEVISH(LY), foolish(ly), capricious(ly); childish(ly)
PELICAN, a retort fitted with tube or tubes, for continuous distillation
PENCIL, small tuft of hair
PERDUE, soldier accustomed to hazardous service
PEREMPTORY, resolute, bold; imperious; thorough, utter, absolute(ly)
PERIMETER, circumference of a figure
PERIOD, limit, end
PERK, perk up
PERPETUANA, "this seems to be that glossy kind of stuff now called
everlasting, and anciently worn by serjeants and other city officers"
(Gifford)
PERSPICIL, optic glass
PERSTRINGE, criticise, censure
PERSUADE, inculcate, commend
PERSWAY, mitigate
PERTINACY, pertinacity
PESTLING, pounding, pulverising, like a pestle
PETASUS, broad-brimmed hat or winged cap worn by Mercury
PETITIONARY, supplicatory
PETRONEL, a kind of carbine or light gas carried by horsemen
PETULANT, pert, insolent
PHERE. See Fere
PHLEGMA, watery distilled liquor (old chem. "water")
PHRENETIC, madman
PICARDIL, still upright collar fastened on to the coat (Whalley)
PICT-HATCH, disreputable quarter of London
PIECE, person, used for woman or girl; a gold coin worth in Jonson's time
20s. or 22s.
PIECES OF EIGHT, Spanish coin: piastre equal to eight reals
PIED, variegated
PIE-POUDRES (Fr. pied-poudreux, dusty-foot), court held at fairs to
administer justice to itinerant vendors and buyers
PILCHER, term of contempt; one who wore a buff or leather jerkin, as did
the serjeants of the counter; a pilferer
PILED, pilled, peeled, bald
PILL'D, polled, fleeced
PIMLICO, "sometimes spoken of as a person -- perhaps master of a house
famous for a particular ale" (Gifford)
PINE, afflict, distress
PINK, stab with a weapon; pierce or cut in scallops for ornament
PINNACE, a go-between in infamous sense
PISMIRE, ant
PISTOLET, gold coin, worth about 6s.
PITCH, height of a bird of prey's flight
PLAGUE, punishment, torment
PLAIN, lament
PLAIN SONG, simple melody
PLAISE, plaice
PLANET, "struck with a --," planets were supposed to have powers of
blasting or exercising secret influences
PLAUSIBLE, pleasing
PLAUSIBLY, approvingly
PLOT, plan
PLY, apply oneself to
POESIE, posy, motto inside a ring
POINT IN HIS DEVICE, exact in every particular
POINTE, tabbed laces or cords for fastening the breeches to the doublet
POINT-TRUSSER, one who trussed (tied) his master's points (q.v.)
POISE, weigh, balance
POKING-STICK, stick used for setting the plaits of ruffs
POLITIC, politician
POLITIC, judicious, prudent, political
POLITICIAN, plotter, intriguer
POLL, strip, plunder, gain by extortion
POMMANDER, ball of perfume, worn or hung about the person to prevent
infection, or for foppery
POMMADO, vaulting on a horse without the aid of stirrups
PONTIC, sour
POPULAR, vulgar, of the populace
POPULOUS, numerous
PORT, gate; print of a deer's foot
PORT, transport
PORTAGUE, Portuguese gold coin, worth over £3 or f4
PORTCULLIS, "-- of coin," some old coins have a portcullis stamped on their
reverse (Whalley)
PORTENT, marvel, prodigy; sinister omen
PORTENTOUS, prophesying evil, threatening
PORTER, references appear "to allude to Parsons, the king's porter, who
was... near seven feet high" (Whalley)
POSSESS, inform, acquaint
POST AND PAIR, a game at cards
POSY, motto. (See Poesie)
POTCH, poach
POULT-FOOT, club-foot
POUNCE, claw, talon
PRACTICE, intrigue, concerted plot
PRACTISE, plot, conspire
PRAGMATIC, an expert, agent
PRAGMATIC, officious, conceited, meddling
PRECEDENT, record of proceedings
PRECEPT, warrant, summons
PRECISIAN(ISM), Puritan(ism), preciseness
PREFER, recomment
PRESENCE, presence chamber
PRESENT(LY), immediate(ly), without delay; at the present time; actually
PRESS, force into service
PREST, ready
PRETEND, assert, allege
PREVENT, anticipate
PRICE, worth, excellence
PRICK, point, dot used in the writing of Hebrew and other languages
PRICK, prick out, mark off, select; trace, track; "-- away," make off with
speed
PRIMERO, game of cards
PRINCOX, pert boy
PRINT, "in --," to the letter, exactly
PRISTINATE, former
PRIVATE, private interests
PRIVATE, privy, intimate
PROCLIVE, prone to
PRODIGIOUS, monstrous, unnatural
PRODIGY, monster
PRODUCED, prolonged
PROFESS, pretend
PROJECTION, the throwing of the "powder of projection" into the crucible to
turn the melted metal into gold or silver
PROLATE, pronounce drawlingly
PROPER, of good appearance, handsome; own, particular
PROPERTIES, state necessaries
PROPERTY, duty; tool
PRORUMPED, burst out
PROTEST, vow, proclaim (an affected word of that time); formally declare
non-payment, etc., of bill of exchange; fig. failure of personal credit,
etc.
PROVANT, soldier's allowance -- hence, of common make
PROVIDE, foresee
PROVIDENCE, foresight, prudence
PUBLICATION, making a thing public of common property (N.E.D.)
PUCKFIST, puff-ball; insipid, insignificant, boasting fellow
PUFF-WING, shoulder puff
PUISNE, judge of inferior rank, a junior
PULCHRITUDE, beauty
PUMP, shoe
PUNGENT, piercing
PUNTO, point, hit
PURCEPT, precept, warrant
PURE, fine, capital, excellent
PURELY, perfectly, utterly
PURL, pleat or fold of a ruff
PURSE-NET, net of which the mouth is drawn together with a string
PURSUIVANT, state messenger who summoned the persecuted seminaries; warrant
officer
PURSY, PURSINESS, shortwinded(ness)
PUT, make a push, exert yourself (N.E.D.)
PUT OFF, excuse, shift
PUT ON, incite, encourage; proceed with, take in hand, try
QUACKSALVER, quack
QUAINT, elegant, elaborated, ingenious, clever
QUAR, quarry
QUARRIED, seized, or fed upon, as prey
QUEAN, hussy, jade
QUEASY, hazardous, delicate
QUELL, kill, destroy
QUEST, request; inquiry
QUESTION, decision by force of arms
QUESTMAN, one appointed to make official inquiry
QUIB, QUIBLIN, quibble, quip
QUICK, the living
QUIDDIT, quiddity, legal subtlety
QUIRK, clever turn or trick
QUIT, requite, repay; acquit, absolve; rid; forsake, leave
QUITTER-BONE, disease of horses
QUODLING, codling
QUOIT, throw like a quoit, chuck
QUOTE, take note, observe, write down
RACK, neck of mutton or pork (Halliwell)
RAKE UP, cover over
RAMP, rear, as a lion, etc.
RAPT, carry away
RAPT, enraptured
RASCAL, young or inferior deer
RASH, strike with a glancing oblique blow, as a boar with its tusk
RATSEY, GOMALIEL, a famous highwayman
RAVEN, devour
REACH, understand
REAL, regal
REBATU, ruff, turned-down collar
RECTOR, RECTRESS, director, governor
REDARGUE, confute
REDUCE, bring back
REED, rede, counsel, advice
REEL, run riot
REFEL, refute
REFORMADOES, disgraced or disbanded soldiers
REGIMENT, government
REGRESSION, return
REGULAR ("Tale of a Tub"), regular noun (quibble) (N.E.D.)
RELIGION, "make -- of," make a point of, scruple of
RELISH, savour
REMNANT, scrap of quotation
REMORA, species of fish
RENDER, depict, exhibit, show
REPAIR, reinstate
REPETITION, recital, narration
REREMOUSE, bat
RESIANT, resident
RESIDENCE, sediment
RESOLUTION, judgment, decision
RESOLVE, inform; assure; prepare, make up one's mind; dissolve; come to a
decision, be convinced; relax, set at ease
RESPECTIVE, worthy of respect; regardful, discriminative
RESPECTIVELY, with reverence
RESPECTLESS, regardless
RESPIRE, exhale; inhale
RESPONSIBLE, correspondent
REST, musket-rest
REST, "set up one's --," venture one's all, one's last stake (from game of
primero)
REST, arrest
RESTIVE, RESTY, dull, inactive
RETCHLESS(NESS), reckless(ness)
RETIRE, cause to retire
RETRICATO, fencing term
RETRIEVE, rediscovery of game once sprung
RETURNS, ventures sent abroad, for the safe return of which so much money
is received
REVERBERATE, dissolve or blend by reflected heat
REVERSE, REVERSO, back-handed thrust, etc., in fencing
REVISE, reconsider a sentence
RHEUM, spleen, caprice
RIBIBE, abusive term for an old woman
RID, destroy, do away with
RIFLING, raffling, dicing
RING, "cracked within the --," coins so cracked were unfit for currency
RISSE, risen, rose
RIVELLED, wrinkled
ROARER, swaggerer
ROCHET, fish of the gurnet kind
ROCK, distaff
RODOMONTADO, braggadocio
ROGUE, vagrant, vagabond
RONDEL, "a round mark in the score of a public-house" (Nares); roundel
ROOK, sharper; fool, dupe
ROSAKER, similar to ratsbane
ROSA-SOLIS, a spiced spirituous liquor
ROSES, rosettes
ROUND, "gentlemen of the --," officers of inferior rank
ROUND TRUNKS, trunk hose, short loose breeches reaching almost or quite to
the knees
ROUSE, carouse, bumper
ROVER, arrow used for shooting at a random mark at uncertain distance
ROWLY-POWLY, roly-poly
RUDE, RUDENESS, unpolished, rough(ness), coarse(ness)
RUFFLE, flaunt, swagger
RUG, coarse frieze
RUG-GOWNS, gown made of rug
RUSH, reference to rushes with which the floors were then strewn
RUSHER, one who strewed the floor with rushes
RUSSET, homespun cloth of neutral or reddish-brown colour
SACK, loose, flowing gown
SADLY, seriously, with gravity
SAD(NESS), sober, serious(ness)
SAFFI, bailiffs
ST. THOMAS A WATERINGS, place in Surrey where criminals were executed
SAKER, small piece of ordnance
SALT, leap
SALT, lascivious
SAMPSUCHINE, sweet marjoram
SARABAND, a slow dance
SATURNALS, began December 17
SAUCINESS, presumption, insolence
SAUCY, bold, impudent, wanton
SAUNA (Lat.), a gesture of contempt
SAVOUR, perceive; gratify, please; to partake of the nature
SAY, sample
SAY, assay, try
SCALD, word of contempt, implying dirt and disease
SCALLION, shalot, small onion
SCANDERBAG, "name which the Turks (in allusion to Alexander the Great) gave
to the brave Castriot, chief of Albania, with whom they had continual wars.
His romantic life had just been translated" (Gifford)
SCAPE, escape
SCARAB, beetle
SCARTOCCIO, fold of paper, cover, cartouch, cartridge
SCONCE, head
SCOPE, aim
SCOT AND LOT, tax, contribution (formerly a parish assessment)
SCOTOMY, dizziness in the head
SCOUR, purge
SCOURSE, deal, swap
SCRATCHES, disease of horses
SCROYLE, mean, rascally fellow
SCRUPLE, doubt
SEAL, put hand to the giving up of property or rights
SEALED, stamped as genuine
SEAM-RENT, ragged
SEAMING LACES, insertion or edging
SEAR UP, close by searing, burning
SEARCED, sifted
SECRETARY, able to keep a secret
SECULAR, worldly, ordinary, commonplace
SECURE, confident
SEELIE, happy, blest
SEISIN, legal term: possession
SELLARY, lewd person
SEMBLABLY, similarly
SEMINARY, a Romish priest educated in a foreign seminary
SENSELESS, insensible, without sense or feeling
SENSIBLY, perceptibly
SENSIVE, sensitive
SENSUAL, pertaining to the physical or material
SERENE, harmful dew of evening
SERICON, red tincture
SERVANT, lover
SERVICES, doughty deeds of arms
SESTERCE, Roman copper coin
SET, stake, wager
SET UP, drill
SETS, deep plaits of the ruff
SEWER, officer who served up the feast, and brought water for the hands of
the guests
SHAPE, a suit by way of disguise
SHIFT, fraud, dodge
SHIFTER, cheat
SHITTLE, shuttle; "shittle-cock," shuttlecock
SHOT, tavern reckoning
SHOT-CLOG, one only tolerated because he paid the shot (reckoning) for the rest
SHOT-FREE, scot-free, not having to pay
SHOVE-GROAT, low kind of gambling amusement, perhaps somewhat of the nature
of pitch and toss
SHOT-SHARKS, drawers
SHREWD, mischievous, malicious, curst
SHREWDLY, keenly, in a high degree
SHRIVE, sheriff; posts were set up before his door for proclamations, or to
indicate his residence
SHROVING, Shrovetide, season of merriment
SIGILLA, seal, mark
SILENCED BRETHERN, MINISTERS, those of the Church or Nonconformists who had
been silenced, deprived, etc.
SILLY, simple, harmless
SIMPLE, silly, witless; plain, true
SIMPLES, herbs
SINGLE, term of chase, signifying when the hunted stag is separated from
the herd, or forced to break covert
SINGLE, weak, silly
SINGLE-MONEY, small change
SINGULAR, unique, supreme
SI-QUIS, bill, advertisement
SKELDRING, getting money under false pretences; swindlilng
SKILL, "it -- a not," matters not
SEINK(ER), pour, draw(er), tapster
SKIRT, tail
SLEEK, smooth
SLICE, fire shovel or pan (dial.)
SLICK, sleek, smooth
'SLID, 'SLIGHT, 'SPRECIOUS, irreverent oaths
SLIGHT, sleight, cunning, cleverness; trick
SLIP, counterfeit coin, bastard
SLIPPERY, polished and shining
SLOPS, large loose breeches
SLOT, print of a stag's foot
SLUR, put a slur on; chear (by sliding a die in some way)
SMELT, gull, simpleton
SNORLE, "perhaps snarl as Puppy is addressed" (Cunningham)
SNOTTERIE, filth
SNUFF, anger, resentment; "take in --," take offence at
SNUFFERS, small open silver dishes for holding snuff, or receptacle for
placing snuffers in (Halliwell)
SOCK, shoe worn by comic actors
SOD, seethe
SOGGY, soaked, sodden
SOIL, "take --," said of a hunted stag when he takes to the water for safety
SOL, sou
SOLDADOES, soldiers
SOLICIT, rouse, excite to action
SOOTH, flattery, cajolery
SOOTHE, flatter, humour
SOPHISTICATE, adulterate
SORT, company, party; rank, degree
SORT, suit, fit; select
SOUSE, ear
SOUSED ("Devil is an Ass"), fol. read "sou't," which Dyce interprets as "a
variety of the spelling of 'shu'd': to shu is to scare a bird away." (See
his Webster, p. 350)
SOWTER, cobbler
SPAGYRICA, chemistry according to the teachings of Paracelsus
SPAR, bar
SPEAK, make known, proclaim
SPECULATION, power of sight
SPED, to have fared well, prospered
SPEECE, species
SPIGHT, anger, rancour
SPINNER, spider
SPINSTRY, lewd person
SPITTLE, hospital, lazar-house
SPLEEN, considered the seat of the emotions
SPLEEN, caprice, humour, mood
SPRUNT, spruce
SPURGE, foam
SPUR-RYAL, gold coin worth 15s.
SQUIRE, square, measure; "by the --," exactly.
STAGGERING, wavering, hesitating
STAIN, disparagement, disgrace
STALE, decoy, or cover, stalking-horse
STALE, make cheap, common
STALE, approach stealthily or under cover
STALL, forestall
STANDARD, suit
STAPLE, market emporium
STARK, downright
STARTING-HOLES, loopholes of escape
STATE, dignity; canopied chair of state; estate
STATUMINATE, support vines by poles or stakes; used by Pliny (Gifford)
STAY, gag
STAY, await; detain
STICKLER, second or umpire
STIGMATISE, mark, brand
STILL, continual(ly), constant(ly)
STINKARD, stinking fellow
STINT, stop
STIPTIC, astringent
STOCCATA, thrust in fencing
STOCK-FISH, salted and dried fish
STOMACH, pride, valour
STOMACH, resent
STOOP, swoop down as a hawk
STOP, fill, stuff
STOPPLE, stopper
STOTE, stoat, weasel
STOUP, stoop, swoop=bow
STRAIGHT, straightway
STRAMAZOUN (Ital. stramazzone), a down blow, as opposed to the thrust
STRANGE, like a stranger, unfamiliar
STRANGENESS, distance of behaviour
STREIGHTS, OR BERMUDAS, labyrinth of alleys and courts in the Strand
STRIGONIUM, Grau in Hungary, taken from the Turks in 1597
STRIKE, balance (accounts)
STRINGHALT, disease of horses
STROKER, smoother, flatterer
STROOK, p.p. of "strike"
STRUMMEL-PATCHED, strummed is glossed in dialect dicts. as "a long, loose
and dishevelled head of hair"
STUDIES, studious efforts
STYLE, title; pointed instrument used for writing on wax tablets
SUBTLE, fine, delicate, thin; smooth, soft
SUBTLETY (SUBTILITY), subtle device
SUBURB, connected with loose living
SUCCUBAE, demons in form of women
SUCK, extract money from
SUFFERANCE, suffering
SUMMED, term of falconry: with full-grown plumage
SUPER-NEGULUM, topers turned the cup bottom up when it was empty
SUPERSTITIOUS, over-scrupulous
SUPPLE, to make pliant
SURBATE, make sore with walking
SURCEASE, cease
SUR-REVERENCE, save your reverence
SURVISE, peruse
SUSCITABILITY, excitability
SUSPECT, suspicion
SUSPEND, suspect
SUSPENDED, held over for the present
SUTLER, victualler
SWAD, clown, boor
SWATH BANDS, swaddling clothes
SWINGE, beat
TABERD, emblazoned mantle or tunic worn by knights and heralds
TABLE(S), "pair of --," tablets, note-book
TABOR, small drum
TABRET, tabor
TAFFETA, silk; "tuft-taffeta," a more costly silken fabric
TAINT, "-- a staff," break a lance at tilting in an unscientific or
dishonourable manner
TAKE IN, capture, subdue
TAKE ME WITH YOU, let me understand you
TAKE UP, obtain on credit, borrow
TALENT, sum or weight of Greek currency
TALL, stout, brave
TANKARD-BEARERS, men employed to fetch water from the conduits
TARLETON, celebrated comedian and jester
TARTAROUS, like a Tartar
TAVERN-TOKEN, "to swallow a --," get drunk
TELL, count
TELL-TROTH, truth-teller
TEMPER, modify, soften
TENDER, show regard, care for cherish; manifest
TENT, "take --," take heed
TERSE, swept and polished
TERTIA, "that portion of an army levied out of one particular district or
division of a country" (Gifford)
TESTON, tester, coin worth 6d.
THIRDBOROUGH, constable
THREAD, quality
THREAVES, droves
THREE-FARTHINGS, piece of silver current under Elizabeth
THREE-PILED, of finest quality, exaggerated
THRIFTILY, carefully
THRUMS, ends of the weaver's warp; coarse yarn made from
THUMB-RING, familiar spirits were supposed capable of being carried about
in various ornaments or parts of dress
TIBICINE, player on the tibia, or pipe
TICK-TACK, game similar to backgammon
TIGHTLY, promptly
TIM, (?) expressive of a climax of nonentity
TIMELESS, untimely, unseasonable
TINCTURE, an essential or spiritual principle supposed by alchemists to be
transfusible into material things; an imparted characteristic or tendency
TINK, tinkle
TIPPET, "turn --," change behaviour or way of life
TIPSTAFF, staff tipped with metal
TIRE, head-dress
TIRE, feed ravenously, like a bird of prey
TITILLATION, that which tickles the senses, as a perfume
TOD, fox
TOILED, worn out, harassed
TOKEN, piece of base metal used in place of very small coin, when this was
scarce
TONNELS, nostrils
TOP, "parish --," large top kept in villages for amusement and exercise in
frosty weather when people were out of work
TOTER, tooter, player on a wind instrument
TOUSE, pull, read
TOWARD, docile, apt; on the way to; as regards; present, at hand
TOY, whim; trick; term of contempt
TRACT, attraction
TRAIN, allure, entice
TRANSITORY, transmittable
TRANSLATE, transform
TRAY-TRIP, game at dice (success depended on throwing a three) (Nares)
TREACHOUR (TRECHER), traitor
TREEN, wooden
TRENCHER, serving-man who carved or served food
TRENDLE-TAIL, trundle-tail, curly-tailed
TRICK (TRICKING), term of heraldry: to draw outline of coat of arms, etc.,
without blazoning
TRIG, a spruce, dandified man
TRILL, trickle
TRILLIBUB, tripe, any worthless, trifling thing
TRIPOLY, "come from --," able to perform feats of agility, a "jest
nominal," depending on the first part of the word (Gifford)
TRITE, worn, shabby
TRIVIA, three-faced goddess (Hecate)
TROJAN, familiar term for an equal or inferior; thief
TROLL, sing loudly
TROMP, trump, deceive
TROPE, figure of speech
TROW, think, believe, wonder
TROWLE, troll
TROWSES, breeches, drawers
TRUCHMAN, interpreter
TRUNDLE, JOHN, well-known printer
TRUNDLE, roll, go rolling along
TRUNDLING CHEATS, term among gipsies and beggars for carts or coaches (Gifford)
TRUNK, speaking-tube
TRUSS, tie the tagged laces that fastened the breeches to the doublet
TUBICINE, trumpeter
TUCKET (Ital. toccato), introductory flourish on the trumpet
TUITION, guardianship
TUMBLE, a particular kind of dog so called from the mode of his hunting
TUMBREL-SLOP, loose, baggy breeches
TURD, excrement
TUSK, gnash the teeth (Century Dict.)
TWIRE, peep, twinkle
TWOPENNY ROOM, gallery
TYRING-HOUSE, attiring-room
ULENSPIEGEL. See Howleglass
UMBRATILE, like or pertaining to a shadow
UMBRE, brown dye
UNBATED, unabated
UNBORED, (?) excessively bored
UNCARNATE, not fleshly, or of flesh
UNCOUTH, strange, unusual
UNDERTAKER, "one who undertook by his influence in the House of Commons to
carry things agreeably to his Majesty's wishes" (Whalley); one who becomes
surety for
UNEQUAL, unjust
UNEXCEPTED, no objection taken at
UNFEARED, unaffrighted
UNHAPPILY, unfortunately
UNICORN'S HORN, supposed antidote to poison
UNKIND(LY), unnatural(ly)
UNMANNED, untamed (term in falconry)
UNQUIT, undischarged
UNREADY, undressed
UNRUDE, rude to an extreme
UNSEASONED, unseasonable, unripe
UNSEELED, a hawk's eyes were "seeled" by sewing the eyelids together with
fine thread
UNTIMELY, unseasonably
UNVALUABLE, invaluable
UPBRAID, make a matter of reproach
UPSEE, heavy kind of Dutch beer (Halliwell); "-- Dutch," in the Dutch fashion
UPTAILS ALL, refrain of a popular song
URGE, allege as accomplice, instigator
URSHIN, URCHIN, hedgehog
USE, interest on money; part of sermon dealing with the practical
application of doctrine
USE, be in the habit of, accustomed to; put out to interest
USQUEBAUGH, whisky
USURE, usury
UTTER, put in circulation, make to pass current; put forth for sale
VAIL, bow, do homage
VAILS, tips, gratuities
VALL. See Vail
VALLIES (Fr. valise), portmanteau, bag
VAPOUR(S) (n. and v.), used affectedly, like "humour," in many senses,
often very vaguely and freely ridiculed by Jonson; humour, disposition,
whims, brag(ging), hector(ing), etc.
VARLET, bailiff, or serjeant-at-mace
VAUT, vault
VEER (naut.), pay out
VEGETAL, vegetable; person full of life and vigour
VELLUTE, velvet
VELVET CUSTARD. Cf. "Taming of the Shrew," iv. 3, 82, "custard coffin,"
coffin being the raised crust over a pie
VENT, vend, sell; give outlet to; scent snuff up
VENUE, bout (fencing term)
VERDUGO (Span.), hangman, executioner
VERGE, "in the --," within a certain distance of the court
VEX, agitate, torment
VICE, the buffoon of old moralities; some kind of machinery for moving a
puppet (Gifford)
VIE AND REVIE, to hazard a certain sum, and to cover it with a larger one.
VINCENT AGAINST YORK, two heralds-at-arms
VINDICATE, avenge
VIRGE, wand, rod
VIRGINAL, old form of piano
VIRTUE, valour
VIVELY, in lifelike manner, livelily
VIZARD, mask
VOGUE, rumour, gossip
VOICE, vote
VOID, leave, quit
VOLARY, cage, aviary
VOLLEY, "at --," "o' the volee," at random (from a term of tennis)
VORLOFFE, furlough
WADLOE, keeper of the Devil Tavern, where Jonson and his friends met in the
'Apollo' room (Whalley)
WAIGHTS, waits, night musicians, "band of musical watchmen" (Webster), or
old form of "hautboys"
WANNION, "vengeance," "plague" (Nares)
WARD, a famous pirate
WARD, guard in fencing
WATCHET, pale, sky blue
WEAL, welfare
WEED, garment
WEFT, waif
WEIGHTS, "to the gold --," to every minute particular
WELKIN, sky
WELL-SPOKEN, of fair speech
WELL-TORNED, turned and polished, as on a wheel
WELT, hem, border of fur
WHER, whether
WHETSTONE, GEORGE, an author who lived 1544(?) to 1587(?)
WHIFF, a smoke, or drink; "taking the --," inhaling the tobacco smoke or
some such accomplishment
WHIGH-HIES, neighings, whinnyings
WHIMSY, whim, "humour"
WHINILING, (?) whining, weakly
WHIT, (?) a mere jot
WHITEMEAT, food made of milk or eggs
WICKED, bad, clumsy
WICKER, pliant, agile
WILDING, esp. fruit of wild apple or crab tree (Webster)
WINE, "I have the -- for you," Prov.: I have the perquisites (of the
office) which you are to share (Cunningham)
WINNY, "same as old word 'wonne', to stay, etc." (Whalley)
WISE-WOMAN, fortune-teller
WISH, recommend
WISS (WUSSE), "I --," certainly, of a truth
WITHHOUT, beyond
WITTY, cunning, ingenious, clever
WOOD, collection, lot
WOODCOCK, term of contempt
WOOLSACK ("-- pies"), name of tavern
WORT, unfermented beer
WOUNDY, great, extreme
WREAK, revenge
WROUGHT, wrought upon
WUSSE, interjection. (See Wiss)
YEANLING, lamb, kid
ZANY, an inferior clown, who attended upon the chief fool and mimicked his
tricks
End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Every Man in his Humour, by Ben Jonson
