Of things wherein your wisdom shows itself,
In that you've plac'd your son in this good sort.
I did not hold the university
Fit for the training up of such a spirit.
T' have took him off his courage and his mettle:
He had return'd, as slaves do from the galleys:
A naked shorn thing, with a thin-dock'd top,
Learnedly cut into a logic mode.
Had sworn him pilgrim unto conventicles;
Engag'd him to the hate of all, but what
Pleaseth the stubborn, froward elect.
Following another model, do allow
Freedom and courage, cherish and maintain
High noble thoughts——
Chemists of manners——
That searching head——
True steel.
(A score or so) for princes, and as yet
Doth not write forty.
Discover th' entrails of a state perhaps.
Lay open a kingdom's paunches, show the bowels
And inwards of a signiory or two;
But for your deeds of valour, there is one,
Although I speak it to his face, that can
Write a geography by his own conquests:
H' hath fought o'er Strabo,[126] Ptolemy,[127] and Stafford;[128]
Travell'd as far in arms as Lithgow[129] naked;
Borne weapons whither Coriat[130] durst not
Carry a shirt or shoes. Jack Mandevile[131]
Ne'er sail'd so far as he hath steer'd by land,
Using his colours both for mast and sail.
A heathen soul or two, fed this good sword
With, the black blood of pagan Christians,
Converted a few infidels with it;
But let that pass. That man of peace there hath
Been trusted with kings' breasts—
Like thunder, and that mere word Slicer hath
Sufficed unto victory.
Reserv'd, lock'd up. The secrets of the King
Of Tartary, of China, and some other
Counsels of moment, have been so long kept
In's body without vent, that every morning,
Before he covers them with some warm thing
Or other, you may smell 'em very strongly;
Distinguish each of them by several scents—
More frights you than a shower of bullets him—
Savour of usquebaugh; the Spanish they
Smell like unto perfume at first, but then
After a while end in a fatal steam—
His sword's his knife; his colours are his napkins;
Carves nourishing horse, as he is us'd to do
The hostile paynim,[133] or we venison; eats
Gunpowder with his meat instead of pepper,
Then drinks o'er all his bandoleers, and fights—
Just like tobacco-leaves laid in a sweat.
Here lies a row of Indian secrets, then
Something of's own on them; on that, another
Of China counsels, cover'd with a lid
Of Newfoundland discoveries: next, a bed
Of Russia policies; on them, a lay
Of Prester-Johnian whispers—
Counts lightning but a giving fire, and thunder
The loud report when heaven hath discharg'd.
H' hath with his breath[134] suppli'd a breach:
When he's once fix'd, no engine can remove him.
Have him dissected, if 'twere not too cruel.
All states would lie as open as his bowels:
Turkey in's bloody liver; Italy
Be found in's reins; Spain busy in his stomach;
Venice would float in's bladder; Holland sail
Up and down all his veins; Bavaria lie
Close in some little gut, and ragioni
Di Stato[135] generally reek in all.
To be some man of action; some engine
For th' overthrow of kingdoms.
Divert the torrent of the Turkish rule
Into some other track: dam up the stream
Of that vast headlong monarchy, if that
He want not means to compass his intents.
For him to manage: he may make perhaps
The governor of some new little island,
And there plant faith and zeal; but for the present,
M' ambition's only to contrive a match
Between Sir Thomas Bitefig's only daughter
And (if I may so call him now) my son:
'Twill raise his fortunes somewhat.
One that will do more good with's tongue that way
Than that uxorious show'r that came from heaven:
But you must oil it first.
Grease him i' th' fist, you mean? There's just ten pieces;
'Tis but an earnest: if he bring 't about,
I'll make those ten a hundred.
[Exit Credulous, and enter Shape and
Meanwell.
SCENE V.
Hearsay, Slicer, Meanwell, Shape.
To cosen and be cosen'd makes the age.
The prey and feeder are that civil thing
That sager heads call body politic.
Here is the only difference: others cheat
By statute, but we do't upon no grounds.
The fraud's the same in both; there only wants
Allowance to our way. The commonwealth
Hath not declar'd herself as yet for us;
Wherefore our policy must be our charter.
Below plain honesty.
That's circumspect and well-advis'd, that doth
Colour at least for goodness. If the cloak
And mantle were pull'd off from things, 'twould be
As hard to meet an honest action as
A liberal alderman or a court-nun.
Let us chalk out our paths: you, Shape, know yours.
Will hold to take her up: I'll ease my silken
Friends of that idle luggage we call money.
To win that old eremite thing that, like
An image in a German clock,[136] doth move,
Not walk—I mean, that rotten antiquary.
Old ruin'd piece, that was five ages backward.
My common-council pate, that doth determine
A city-business with his gloves on's head,
We must apply good hope of wealth and means.
With the same lure: he knows t' a crumb how much
Loss is in twenty dozen of bread, between
That which is broke by th' hand and that is cut.
Which way best keep his candles, bran or straw:
What tallow's lost in putting of 'em out
By spittle, what by foot, what by the puff,
What by the holding downwards, and what by
The extinguisher; which wick will longest be
In lighting, which spend fastest. He must hear
Nothing but moieties, and lives, and farms,
Copies, and tenures; he is deaf to th' rest.
My mouth shall swill with bags, revenues, fees,
Estates, reversions, incomes, and assurance[s].
He's in the gin already; for his daughter,
She'll be an easy purchase.[137]
We shall grow famous; have all sorts repair
As duly to us, as the barren wives
Of aged citizens do to St Antholin's.
Come, let us take our quarters; we may come
To be some great officers in time,
And with a reverend magisterial frown
Pass sentence on those faults that are our own. [Exeunt omnes.
FOOTNOTES:
[116] The Declaration concerning "The Book of Sports," set forth some time before. This was a matter very disgusting to the Puritans, who had an equal dislike to the Book of Common Prayer.
[117] This phrase signifies take courage, or summon up resolution. It is at present always written in this manner; formerly it used, [very erroneously,] to be, take heart at grass; as in "Euphues," p. 18: "Rise, therefore, Euphues, and take heart at grasse, younger thou shalt never bee: plucke up thy stomacke, if love have stong thee, it shall not stifle thee."
Again, in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," p. 4: "Therefore taking heart at grasse, drawing more neere him," &c.
And Ibid., p. 24: "Seeing she would take no warning: on a day tooke heart at grasse, and belabour'd her well with a cudgel."
[118] Well-appointed is completely accoutred. So in "The Miseries of Queen Margaret," by Drayton—
and in the "Second Part of Henry IV." act iv. sc. 1—
—Mr Steevens's note on the last passage.
[119] [Old copy, not born.]
[120] See Wolfii "Opera," 1672, ii. 592.
Johannes Trithemius, abbè of the order of St Benedict, and one of the most learned men of the fifteenth century, was born at Tritenheim, in the diocese of Treves, the 1st of February 1462. After having studied for some time, he became a Benedictine friar, and abbot of Spanheim, in the diocese of Mayence, in 1483. He governed the abbey until the year 1506, when he joined the abbey of St James, at Wurtzburgh. He was learned in all sciences, divine and human, and died the 13th of December 1516.
Thevet calls him a subtle philosopher, an ingenious mathematician, a famous poet, an accomplished historian, a very eloquent orator, and eminent divine. Naudius says that those who would make him a magician ground their right on a little book of three or four sheets, printed in 1612, entitled, "Veterum Sophorum sigilla et imagines magicæ, sive sculptura lapidum aut gemmarum ex nomine Tetragrammaton cum signatura planetarum authoribus Zoroastre, Salomone Raphaele, Chaele Hermete Thelete, ex Joan Kithemii manuscripto erutæ." Secondly, his speaking so pertinently of magic, and giving himself the title of magician in some of his epistles. Thirdly, his writing the book of Steganography, a treatise stuffed with the names of devils, and full of invocations, and as very pernicious condemned by Boville as worse than Agrippa. To these Naudius answers that the pamphlet of making images and characters upon stones, under certain constellations, is a pure imposture and cheat of booksellers, it being printed above 120 years before by Camillus Lienard, as the third book of his "Mirror of Precious Stones, De Unguento Armario." From a letter then to a Carmelite of Gaunt, Arnoldus Bostius, the suspicion of his being a magician must be collected, wherein he specified many miraculous and extraordinary effects performed in his treatise of Steganography. This, however, is defended by several writers only as the means to decipher.—Naudius's "History of Magick," translated by Davies, p. 237, &c.
[121] See note on the "Spanish Tragedy," [v. 115]
[122] "Join with me," would suit the sense better, as she is asking Shape to unite his solicitations with hers. The old copy reads as it is reprinted.—Collier.
[123] [Old copy, a.]
[124] [A lecture, probably, was delivered on the phenomenon.]
[125] [The "Book of the Acts and Monuments," &c., 1563, &c. The woodcuts have the dying words of the martyrs printed on labels out of their mouths, in the way mentioned in the text.]
[126] Strabo, a philosopher of Crete and a geographer in the time of Augustus.
[127] Born at Pelusium, flourished about the year 140, and died 162, aged 78.
[128] Robert Stafford, born at Dublin, was of Exeter College, Oxford, and published "A Geographical and Anthological description of all the Empires and Kingdoms, both of Continent and Islands, in this terrestial Globe," &c., 1607. Wood says it was reported that John Prideaux, who was Stafford's tutor, had the chief hand in this work.
[129] [Naked, i.e., unarmed.] William Lithgow, a Scotsman, whose sufferings by imprisonment and torture at Malaga, and whose travels on foot over Europe, Asia, and Africa, seem to raise him almost to the rank of a martyr and a hero, published an account of his peregrinations and adventures, 1614; reprinted in 1616, &c., with additions. At the conclusion of this work he says, "Here is the just relation of nineteene yeares travells, perfited in three deare bought voyages: the generall computation of which dimmensions spaces in my goings, traversings, and returnings through kingdomes, continents, and ilands, which my payneful feet traced over (besides my passages of seas and rivers) amounteth to thirty-six thousand and odde miles; which draweth neare to twice the circumference of the whole earth." [A list of his other works may be found in Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, in v.]
[130] The celebrated Thomas Coriat who, except Lithgow, is supposed to have travelled more miles on foot than any person of his times, or indeed in any period since. From his writings, and many parts of his conduct, he cannot be supposed to have been in his perfect senses. He was, notwithstanding, a man of considerable learning, and rendered himself ridiculous, chiefly by dwelling with too much attention on the trifling accidents which happened to him during his journey. In the year 1608 he left England and went to Venice and back again; a journey performed on foot in five months. On his return, he published an account of it in a large quarto volume, 1611, containing 655 pages, besides more than 100 filled with commendatory verses by Ben Jonson and other wits of the age, who both laughed at and flattered him at the same time. He afterwards travelled into Persia, and from thence into the East Indies (still on foot), and died at Surat in the year 1617.
[131] Sir John Mandevile, Knight, born at St Albans. He was a traveller for the space of thirty-four years, visiting in that time Scythia, Armenia the Greater and Less, Egypt, both Libyas, Arabia, Syria, Media, Mesopotamia, Persia, Chaldæa, Greece, Illyrium, Tartary, and divers other kingdoms. He died at Liege, November 17, 1371. An edition of his travels was printed in 8o, 1725, from a MS. in the Cotton Library.
[132] ["The leavings of what has been drawn for others"—Gifford (edit. of Ben Jonson, vii. 433).] So in Jonson's "Masque of Augurs:" "The poor cattle yonder are passing away the time with a cheat loaf and a bumbard of broken beer."
Again, in the "Masque of Gypsies:" "He were very carefully carried at his mother's back, rocked in a cradle of Welsh cheese, like a maggot, and there fed with broken beer and blown wine of the best daily."
And in Scot's "Belgicke Pismire," 1622, p. 76: "Having before fed themselves full with the sweat of other mens browes, even to gluttonie, drunkenesse, and surfetting, may releeve with their scraps, crummes, bones and broken beere, the necessities of such as they or their predecessors have before undone and made beggers."
[133] [Old copy, paguim.]
[134] Qy. breadth, i.e., stopped a breach by his person.—Collier.
[135] [Reasons or policies of state.]
[136] German clocks were about this time much in use. They are frequently mentioned by Ben Jonson and other writers.—See "Epicæne," act iv. sc. 2.
ACT II., SCENE I.
Have-at-all, Slicer, Hearsay having rescued him in a quarrel.
I shall be beaten with more credit then
Than now I do escape. Lieutenant, has't
Bethought thyself as yet? Has't any way
To make my sword fetch blood?
Did kill your man, then?
With child, I warrant?
Free of the gentry, till y' have marr'd one man
And made another. When one fury hath
Cried quit with t'other, and your lust repair'd
What anger hath destroy'd, the title's yours;
Till then you do but stand for't.
That vile, scorn'd name, that stuffs all court-gate bills?
Lieutenant, thou may'st teach me valour yet.
Thy name become a terror; and to say
That Have-at-all is coming shall make room,
As when the bears are in procession.
Hark hither, Frank—[They consult.
The citizen, that he is his.
Would you fight fair, or conquer by a spell?
My strength rely merely upon itself.
But to one Spaniard, and 'twas wondrous happy.
An easy way, you'll say: I'll say, a true.
Hunger may break stone walls, it ne'er hurts men:
Your cleanly feeder is your man of valour.
What makes the peasant grovel in his muck,
Humbling his crooked soul, but that he eats
Bread just in colour like it? Courage ne'er
Vouchsaf'd to dwell a minute where a sullen
Pair of brown loaves darken'd the dirty table;
Shadows of bread, not bread. You never knew
A solemn son of bag-pudding and pottage
Make a commander, or a tripe-eater
Become a tyrant. He's the kingdom's arm
That can feed large and choicely.
The way, I'll eat myself into courage,
And will devour valour enough quickly.
That doth procure those spirits, but the order
And manner of the meal—the ranking of
The dishes, that does all; else he that hath
The greatest range, would be the hardiest man.
Those goodly juments of the guard would fight
(As they eat beef) after six stone a day;
The spit would nourish great attempts: my lord
Would lead a troop, as well as now a masque;
And force the enemy's sword with as much ease
As his mistress's bodkin: gallants would
Owe valour to their ordinaries, and fight
After a crown meal.
The art is all in all. If that you'll give
A bill of your directions, I'll account
Myself oblig'd unto you for my safety.
No dish but must present artillery;
Some military instrument in each.
Imprimis, six or seven yards of tripe
Display'd instead o' th' ensign.
Tripe-eaters ne'er made tyrants.
Must be attentive, and believe. Do y' think
We'll eat this? 'Tis but for formality.
Item, a collar of good large fat brawn
Serv'd for a drum, waited upon by two
Fair long black-puddings, lying by for drumsticks.
Item, a well-grown lamprey for a fife;
Next some good curious march-panes[138] made into
The form of trumpets. Then in order shall
Follow the officers: the captain first
Shall be presented in a warlike cock,
Swimming in white broth, as he's wont in blood:
The serjeant-major he may bustle in
The shape of some large turkey: for myself,
Who am lieutenant, I'm content there be
A buzzard only. Let the corporal
Come sweating in a breast of mutton, stuff'd[139]
With pudding, or strut in some aged carp:
Either doth serve, I think. As for perdues,[140]
Some choice sous'd fish brought couchant in a dish
Among some fennel or some other grass,
Shows how they lie i' th' field. The soldier then
May be thus rank'd: the common one, chicken,
Duck, rabbit, pigeon; for the more genteel,
Snipe, woodcock, partridge, pheasant, quail, will serve.
We'll have a dozen of bones well-charg'd with marrow
For ordnance, muskets, petronels, petards;
Twelve yards of sausage by, instead of match;
And caveary[141] then prepar'd for wild-fire.
Then a fresh turbot brought in for a buckler,
With a long spitchcock for the sword adjoin'd.
We'll bring the ancient weapons into play.
And malecotoons,[142] with other choicer plums,
Will serve for large-sized bullets; then a dish
Or two of peas for small ones. I could now
Tell you of pepper in the stead of powder,
But that 'tis not in fashion 'mongst us gallants.
If this might all stand upon drum-heads, 'twould
Work somewhat better.
From every ward i' th' city.
To put you to such charge. For once a long
Table shall serve the turn; 'tis no great matter.
The main thing's still behind. We must have there
Some fort to scale; a venison-pasty doth it.
You may have other pies instead of outworks:
Some sconces would not be amiss, I think.
When this is all prepar'd, and when we see
The table look like a pitch'd battle, then
We'll give the word, fall to, slash, kill and spoil:
Destruction, rapine, violence! spare none.
Of a dry battle, 'cause there must some blood
Be spill'd (on th' enemies' side, I mean) you may
Have there a rundlet of brisk claret, and
As much of alicant; the same quantity
Of tent would not be wanting—'tis a wine
Most like to blood. Some shall bleed fainter colours,
As sack and white wine. Some that have the itch
(As there are tailors still in every army),
Shall run with Rhenish that hath brimstone in't.
When this is done, fight boldly: write yourself
The tenth or 'leventh worthy—which you please:
Your choice is free.
My word shall be twice twelve. I think the dice
Ne'er mounted any upon horseback yet.
It works the better, eaten before witness.
Beware you say 'tis yours; confession is
One step to weakness; private conscience is
A theatre to valour. Let's be close:
Old Credulous and his son, and Master Caster,
Shall all be there.
All at my charge.
Eats only flesh, the understanding, valour:
His ignorance i' th' mystery keeps him coward.
To him 'tis but a meal; to you 'tis virtue.
It shall be kept here.
An old rich clutch-fist knight, Sir Thomas Bitefig,
Invite him too; perhaps I may have luck,
And break his purse yet open for one hundred.
A usurer is somewhat exorable,
When he is full; he ne'er lends money empty.
T' have prompted it.
Let's be sworn brothers.
After I've eaten. Dost thou think I'll offer't?
By my next meal, I won't; nay, I do love
My friends howe'er. I do but think how I
Shall bastinado o'er the ordinaries.
Arm'd with my sword, battoon and foot, I'll walk
To give each rank its due. No one shall 'scape,
But he I win of.
Some twenty warrants sign'd upon you straight:
The trunk-hose justices will try all means
To bind you to the peace, but that your strength
Shall not be bound by any.
Pray for your health and happiness: you may
Bring them to be your tributaries, if
You but deny to fight awhile.
Are on an edge till I do eat. Now will
I cosen all men without opposition:
I feel my strength increase with very thought on't.
Sword, sword, thou shalt grow fat; and thou, battoon,
Hold out, I prythee: when my labour's done,
I'll plant thee in the Tower-yard, and there,
Water'd with wine, thou shalt revive, and spring
In spite of nature with fresh succulent boughs,
Which shall supply the commonwealth with cudgels.
Thou I first meet after this meal I do
Pronounce unhappy shadow—happy yet
In that thou'lt fall by me. Some men I will
Speak into carcase; some I'll look to death;
Others I'll breathe to dust: none shall hold back
This fatal arm. The Templars shall not dare
T' attempt a rescue; no mild words shall bury
My splitted, spitchcock'd——
SCENE II.
Meanwell, Moth.
You snyb[146] mine old years, sans fail I wene[147] you bin
A jangler[148] and a golierdis.[149]
By those two Janus' heads you had of us,
And your own too, as reverend as those,
There is one loves you that you think not on.
This white top writeeth much my years, i-wis,
My fire yreken is in ashen cold.[151]
I can no whit of dalliance: if I kissen,
These thick stark bristles of mine beard will pricken
Ylike the skin of hound-fish. Sikerly[152]
What wends against the grain is lytherly.[153]
Fit to get heirs: among your other pieces
Of age and time let one young face be seen
May call you father.
The world is now full tickle[154] sykerly;
'Tis hard to find a damosel unwenned;[155]
They being all coltish and full of ragery,[156]
And full of gergon[157] as is a flecken[158] pie.
Whoso with them maketh that bond anon,
Which men do clyppen[159] spousail or wedlock,
Saint Idiot is his lord, i-wis.
No tender and wanton thing; she is a staid
And settled widow, one who'll be a nurse
Unto you in your latter days.
Some dele ystept in age! So mote[161] I gone,
This goeth aright: how highteth[162] she, say you?
Alouten: what time 'gan she brendle thus?
Ycleped so from Thor the Saxon's god.
Mine mouth hath itched all this livelong day;
All night me met[163] eke, that I was at kirk;
My heart gan quapp[164] full oft. Dan Cupido
Sure sent thylke sweven[165] to mine head.
Know more, if you'll walk in. [Exit Meanwell.
Kembeth[166] thyself, and pyketh[167] now thyself;
Sleeketh thyself; make cheer much digne,[168] good Robert:
I do arret thou shalt acquainted bin
With nymphs and fauns, and hamadryades:
And yeke the sisterne nine Pierides
That were transmued into birds, nemp'd[169] pyes
Metamorphoseos wot well what I mean:
I is as jollie now as fish in Seine. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Hearsay, Caster, Shape.