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A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 13

Chapter 44: FOOTNOTES:
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About This Book

An edited anthology gathers a range of early English stage plays presented in chronological order and accompanied by commentator annotations and new notes by W. Carew Hazlitt. The volume reproduces dramatis personae, act and scene divisions, and full texts of comedies and civic dramas that explore marital matches, social hypocrisy, debt and urban life, often through satirical character types and comic situations. Editorial material and transcriber notes contextualize language, performance practice, and textual variants, making the plays accessible for modern readers while preserving original stage directions and comic dialogue.

ACT I., SCENE I.

Warehouse, Seathrift.

Sea. I promise you 'twill be a most rare plot.
Ware. The city, Master Seathrift, never yet
Brought forth the like: I would have them that have
Fin'd twice for sheriff, mend it.
Sea. Mend it! why,
'Tis past the wit o' th' court of aldermen.
Next merchant-tailor, that writes chronicles,[181]
Will put us in.
Ware. For, since I took him home,
Though, sir, my nephew, as you may observe,
Seem quite transfigur'd, be as dutiful
As a new 'prentice, in his talk declaim
'Gainst revelling companions, be as hard
To be entic'd from home as my door-posts,
This reformation may but be his part,
And he may act his virtues. I have not
Forgot his riots at the Temple. You know, sir——
Sea. You told me, Master Warehouse.
Ware. Not the sea,
When it devour'd my ships, cost me so much
As did his vanities. A voyage to the Indies
Has been lost in a night: his daily suits
Were worth more than the stock that set me up;
For which he knew none but the silk-man's book,
And studied that more than the law. He had
His loves, too, and his mistresses; was enter'd
Among the philosophical madams;[182] was
As great with them as their concerners; and, I hear,
Kept one of them in pension.
Sea. My son too
Hath had his errors: I could tell the time
When all the wine which I put off by wholesale
He took again in quarts; and at the day
Vintners have paid me with his large scores: but
He is reformed too.
Ware. Sir, we now are friends
In a design.
Sea. And hope to be in time
Friends in alliance, sir.
Ware. I'll be free;
I think well of your son.
Sea. Who? Timothy?
Believe't, a virtuous boy; and for his sister,
A very saint.
Ware. Mistake me not, I have
The like opinion of my nephew, sir;
Yet he is young, and so is your son; nor
Doth the church-book say they are past our fears.
Our presence is their bridle now; 'tis good
To know them well whom we do make our heirs.
Sea. It is most true.
Ware. Well; and how shall we know
How they will use their fortune, or what place
We have in their affection, without trial?
Some wise men build their own tombs; let us try,
If we were dead, whether our heirs would cry,
Or wear[183] long cloaks. This plot will do't.
Sea. 'Twill make us
Famous upon the Exchange for ever. I'll home,
And take leave of my wife and son.
Ware. And I'll
Come to you at your garden-house.[184] Within there.

[Exit Seathrift.

SCENE II.

Enter Cypher.

Ware. Now, Cypher, where's my nephew?
Cyph. In the hall,
Reading a letter which a footman brought
Just now to him from a lady, sir.
Ware. A lady!
Cyph. Yes, sir, a lady in distress; for I
Could overhear the fellow say she must
Sell her coach-horses, and return again
To her needle, if your nephew don't supply her
With money.
Ware. This is some honourable sempstress.
I am now confirm'd: they say he keeps a lady,
And this is she. Well, Cypher, 'tis too late
To change my project now. Be sure you keep
A diary of his actions; strictly mark
What company comes to him; if he stir
Out of my house, observe the place he enters:
Watch him, till he come out: follow him (disguis'd)
To all his haunts.
Cyph. He shall not want a spy, sir.
But, sir, when you are absent, if he draw not
A lattice to your door, and hang a bush out——
Ware. I hope he will not make my house a tavern.
Cyph. Sir, I am no Sybil's son.
Ware. Peace, here he comes.

SCENE III.

Enter Plotwell, in a sad posture. Warehouse, Plotwell, Cypher.

Ware. Good morrow, nephew. How now? sad? how comes
This melancholy?
Plot. Can I choose but wear
Clouds in my face, when I must venture, sir,
Your reverend age to a long-doubtful voyage,
And not partake your dangers?
Ware. Fie! these fears,
Though they become you, nephew, are ominous.
When heard you from your father?
Plot. Never since
He made the escape, sir.
Ware. I hear he is in Ireland:
Is't true he took your sister with him?
Plot. So
Her mistress thinks, sir: one day she left th' Exchange,
And has not since been heard of.
Ware. And, nephew,
How like you your new course; which place prefer you—
The Temple or Exchange? Where are, think you,
The wealthier mines—in the Indies or
Westminster Hall?
Plot. Sir, my desires take measure
And form from yours.
Ware. Nay, tell me your mind plainly
I' th' city-tongue. I'd have you speak like Cypher:
I do not like quaint figures, they do smell
Too much o' th' inns-of-court.
Plot. Sir, my obedience
Is ready for all impressions which——
Ware. Again!
Plot. Sir, I prefer your kind of life, a merchant.
Ware. 'Tis spoken like my nephew; now I like you,
Nor shall I e'er repent the benefits
I have bestow'd; but will forget all errors [Exit Cypher.
As mere seducements, and will not only be
An uncle, but a father to you; but then
You must be constant, nephew.
Plot. Else I were blind
To my good fortune, sir.
Ware. Think, man, how it may
In time make thee o' th' city-senate, and raise thee
To the sword and cap of maintenance.
Plot. Yes, and make me
Sentence light bread and pounds of butter on horseback. [Aside.
Ware. Have gates and conduits dated from thy year;
Ride to the 'spital on thy free beast.
Plot. Yes,
Free of your company. [Aside.
Ware. Have the people vail
As low to his trappings, as if he thrice had fin'd
For that good time's employment.
Plot. Or as if
He had his rider's wisdom. [Aside.
Ware. Then the works
And good deeds of the city to go before thee,
Besides a troop of varlets.[185]
Plot. Yes, and I
To sleep the sermon in my chain and scarlet. [Aside.
Ware. How say you? Let's hear that!
Plot. I say, sir, I
To sit at sermon in my chain and scarlet.
Ware. 'Tis right; and be remembered at the Cross.[186]
Plot. And then at sessions, sir, and all times else,
Master Recorder to save me the trouble,
And understand things for me. [Aside.
Ware. All this is possible,
And in the stars and winds: therefore, dear nephew,
You shall pursue this course; and, to enable you,
In this half-year that I shall be away,
Cypher shall teach you French, Italian, Spanish,
And other tongues of traffic.
Plot. Shall I not learn
Arithmetic too, sir, and shorthand?
Ware. 'Tis well-remembered; yes, and navigation.

Enter Cypher.

Cyph. Sir, Master Seathrift says you will lose the tide;
The boat stays for you.
Ware. Well, nephew, at my return,
As I hear of your carriage, you do know
What my intentions are; and, for a token
How much I trust your reformation,
Take this key of my counting-house, and spend
Discreetly in my absence. Farewell. Nay,
No tears; I'll be here sooner than you think on't.
Cypher, you know what you have to do.
Cyph. I warrant you, sir. [Exit Warehouse.
Plot. Tears! yes, my melting eyes shall run; but it
Shall be such tears as shall increase the tide
To carry you from hence.
Cyph. Come, Master Plotwell, shall I
Read to you this morning?
Plot. Read! what? how the price
Of sugar goes; how many pints of olives
Go to a jar; how long wine works at sea;
What difference is in gain between fresh herrings
And herrings red?
Cyph. This is fine: ha' you
Forgot your uncle's charge?
Plot. Prythee, what was't?
Cyph. To learn the tongues and mathematics.
Plot. Troth,
If I have tongue enough to say my prayers
I' th' phrase o' th' kingdom, I care not: otherwise,
I'm for no tongues but dried ones, such as will
Give a fine relish to my backrag;[187] and for mathematics,
I hate to travel by the map; methinks
'Tis riding post.
Cyph. I knew 'twould come to this.
Here be his comrades. [Aside.
Plot. What, my Fleet Street friends? [Exit Cypher.

SCENE IV.

Enter Bright and Newcut.

Bright. Save you, merchant Plotwell!
New. Master Plotwell, citizen and merchant, save you!
Bright. Is thy uncle
Gone the wish'd voyage?
Plot. Yes, he's gone; and, if
He die by th' way, hath bequeath'd me but some
Twelve hundred pound a year in Kent; some three-
Score thousand pound in money, besides jewels, bonds,
And desperate debts.
New. And dost not thou fall down,
And pray to th' winds to sacrifice him to
Poor John and mackarel?
Bright. Or invoke some rock
To do thee justice?
New. Or some compendious cannon
To take him off i' th' middle?
Plot. And why, my tender,
Soft-hearted friends?
Bright. What, to take thee from the Temple,
To make thee an old juryman, a Whittington?
New. To transform thy plush to penny-stone; and scarlet
Into a velvet jacket, which hath seen
Aleppo twice, is known to the great Turk,
Hath 'scap'd three shipwrecks to be left off to thee,
And knows the way to Mexico as well as the map?
Bright. This jacket surely was employed in finding
The north-east passage out, or the same jacket
That Coriat[188] died in.
Plot. Very good.
New. In Ovid
There is not such a metamorphosis
As thou art now. To be turned into a tree
Or some handsome beast, is courtly to this.
But for thee, Frank, O transmutation!
Of satin chang'd to kersey hose I sing.[189]
'Slid, his shoes shine too.[190]
Bright. They have the Gresham dye.
Dost thou not dress thyself by 'em? I can see
My face in them hither.
Plot. Very pleasant, gentlemen.
Bright. And faith, for how many years art thou bound?
Plot. Do you take me for a 'prentice?
New. Why, then, what office
Dost thou bear in the parish this year? Let's feel:
No batteries[191] in thy head, to signify
Th' art a constable?
Bright. No furious jug broke on it
In the king's name?
Plot. Did you contrive this scene
By the way, gentlemen?
New. No; but the news
Thou shouldst turn tradesman, and this pagan dress,
In which if thou shouldst die, thou wouldst be damn'd
For an usurer, is comical at the Temple.
We were about to bring in such a fellow
For an apostate in our antimasque.
Set one to keep the door, provide half-crown rooms,
For I'll set bills up of thee. What shall I
Give thee for the first day?
Bright. Ay, or second?
For thou'lt endure twice or thrice coming in.
Plot. Well, my conceited Orient friends, bright offspring
O' th' female silkworm and tailor male, I deny not
But you look well in your unpaid-for glory;
That in these colours you set out the Strand,
And adorn Fleet Street; that you may laugh at me,
Poor working-day o' th' city, like two festivals
Escap'd out of the Almanac.
New. Sirrah Bright,
Didst look to hear such language beyond Ludgate?
Bright. I thought all wit had ended at Fleetbridge;
But wit that goes o' th' score, that may extend,
If't be a courtier's wit, into Cheapside.
Plot. Your mercer lives there, does he? I warrant you,
He has the patience of a burnt heretic.
The very faith that sold to you these silks,
And thinks you'll pay for 'em, is strong enough
To save the infidel part o' th' world or Antichrist.
Bright. W' are most mechanically abused.
New. Let's tear his jacket off.
Bright. A match! take that side.
Plot. Hold, hold!
Bright. How frail a thing old velvet is! it parts
With as much ease and willingness as two cowards.

[They tear off his jacket.

New. The tend'rest weed that ever fell asunder.
Plot. Ha' you your wits? What mean you?
Bright. Go, put on
One of thy Temple suits, and accompany us,
Or else thy dimity breeches will be mortal.
Plot. You will not strip me, will you?
New. By thy visible ears, we will.
Bright. By this two-handed beaver, which is so thin
And light, a butterfly's wings put to't would make it
A Mercury's flying hat, and soar aloft.
Plot. But do you know, to how much danger
You tempt me? Should my uncle know I come
Within the air of Fleet Street——
New. Will you make
Yourself fit for a coach again, and come
Along with us?
Plot. Well, my two resolute friends,
You shall prevail. But whither now are your
Lewd motions bent?
New. We'll dine at Roseclap's: there
We shall meet Captain Quartfield and his poet;
They shall show us another fish.
Bright. But, by the way, we have agreed to see
A lady, you mechanic.
Plot. What lady?
New. Hast not thou heard of the new-sprung lady?
Bright. One
That keeps her coachman, footboy, woman, and spends
A thousand pounds a year by wit.
Plot. How? wit!
New. That is her patrimony, sir. 'Tis thought
The fortune she is born to will not buy
A bunch of turnips.
Plot. She is no gamester, is she? Nor carries false dice?
Bright. No, but has a tongue,
Were't in a lawyer's mouth, would make him buy
All young heirs near him.
Plot. But does no man know from whence she came?
Bright. As for her birth, she may
Choose her own pedigree: it is unknown
Whether she be descended of some ditch
Or duchess.
New. She's the wonder of the court
And talk o' th' town.
Plot. Her name?
New. Aurelia.
Plot. I've heard of her. They say she does fight duels,
And answers challenges in wit.
Bright. She has been thrice in the field.
Plot. I' th' field?
New. Yes, in Spring Garden;
Has conquer'd, with no second but her woman,
A Puritan, and has return'd with prizes.
Plot. And no drum beat before her?
New. No, nor colours
Flourish'd. She has made a vow never to marry,
'Till she be won by stratagem.
Plot. I long to see her.
Bright. I' th' name of Guildhall, who comes here?

SCENE V.

Enter Timothy.

Tim. By your leave, gentlemen.
Plot. Master Timothy!
Welcome from the new world. I look'd you should
Ha' past through half the signs in heaven by this,
And ha' convers'd with the dolphins. What! not gone
To sea with your father?
Tim. No, faith, I do not love
To go to sea; it makes one lousy, lays him
In wooden sheets, and lands him a preservative
Against the plague: besides, my mother was
Afraid to venture me.
Plot. Believe't, she's wise
Not to trust such a wit to a thin frail bark,
Where you had sail'd within three inches of
Becoming a Jonas. Besides the tossing, to have
All the fierce blust'ring faces in the map
Swell more tempestuously upon you than
Lawyers preferr'd or trumpeters. And whither
Were you bound now?
Tim. I only came to have
Your judgment of my suit.
Plot. Surely the tailor
Has done his part.
Tim. And my mother has done hers;
For she has paid for't. I never durst be seen
Before my father out of duretta[192] and serge:
But if he catch me in such paltry stuffs,
To make me look like one that lets out money,
Let him say, "Timothy was born a fool."
Before he went, he made me do what he list;
Now he's abroad, I'll do what I list. What
Are these two? Gentlemen?
Plot. You see they wear
Their heraldry.
Tim. But I mean, can they roar,
Beat drawers, play at dice, and court their mistress?
I mean forthwith to get a mistress?
Plot. But
How comes this, Master Timothy? you did not
Rise such a gallant this morning.
Tim. All's one for that.
My mother lost her maidenhead that I
Might come first into the world; and, by God's lid,
I'll bear myself like the elder brother, I.
D'you think, I'll all days of my life frequent
Saint Antlins, like my sister? Gentlemen,
I covet your acquaintance.
Bright. Your servant, sir.
New. I shall be proud to know you.
Tim. Sir, my knowledge
Is not much worth. I'm born to a small fortune;
Some hundred thousand pound, if once my father
Held up his hands in marble, or kneel'd in brass.
What are you? inns-of-court men?
New. The catechism
Were false, should we deny it.
Tim. I shall shortly
Be one myself; I learn to dance already,
And wear short cloaks. I mean in your next masque
To have a part: I shall take most extremely.
Bright. You will inflame the ladies, sir: they'll strive,
Who shall most privately convey jewels
Into your hand.
New. This is an excellent fellow.
Who is't?
Plot. Rich Seathrift's son, that's gone to sea
This morning with my uncle.
Bright. Is this he
Whose sister thou shouldst marry? The wench that brings
Ten thousand pound?
Plot. My uncle would fain have me [marry her];
But I have cast her off.
Bright. Why?
Plot. Faith, she's handsome,
And had a good wit; but her schoolmistress
Has made her a rank Puritan.
New. Let's take him
Along with us, and Captain Quartfield shall show him.
Plot. 'Twill be an excellent comedy; and afterwards
I have a project on him.
Tim. Gentlemen,
Shall we dine at an ordinary? You
Shall enter me among the wits.
Plot. Sir, I
Will but shift clothes, then we'll associate you,
But first you shall with us, and see a lady
Rich as your father's chests and odd holes,[193] and
Fresh as Pygmalion's mistress, newly waken'd
Out of her alabaster.
Tim. Lead on:
I long to see a lady, and to salute her. [Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:

[180] In the year 1755, a gentleman of great eminence in his profession made a few alterations in this play, and presented it to the governors of the Lock Hospital, near Hyde Park Corner, who obtained a representation of it at Drury Lane for the benefit of that charity. It was at the same time printed in 8o, under the title of "The Schemers; or, The City-Match."

Mr Bromfield, the surgeon, as Mr Davies, who acted in it, told me.—Reed.

[181] The merchant-tailor here alluded to was John Stowe, author of the "Chronicles of England," who was of that company, and a tailor by profession.

[182] See Ben Jonson's "Silent Woman."—Pegge.

[183] All the editions read their.

[184] See extract from Stubbes, quoted in note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage" [ix., 538.]

[185] [An allusion to the Lord Mayor's Show, into which were generally introduced symbolical representations of the civic virtues.]

[186] At St Paul's Cross, where [the Lord Mayor heard his inauguration sermon.]

[187] This was a wine which was brought from Baccarach, in Germany, as appears from Heywood's "Philo-cothonista," 1635, p. 48. It is there mentioned along with Rhenish.

Ray, in his "Travels," vol. i. p. 64, says: "Next we came to Baccarach, a walled town on the right hand, having many towers, subject to the Prince Elector Palatine, famous for the goodness of its wine, as is also Rhincow, a town not far from Mentz."—Reed.

[188] See note to "The Ordinary" [xii., 227.]

[189] [A sort of playful parody on the exordium to Ovid's "Metamorphoses."]

[190] The citizens of Charles I.'s time, and earlier, were as famous for the brightness of their shoes as some particular professions at present. In "Every Man in his Humour," act ii. sc. 1, Kitely says—

"Whilst they, sir, to relieve him in the fable,
Make their loose comments upon every word,
Gesture, or look, I use; mock me all over,
From my flat cap unto my shining shoes."

[191] [Bruises or contusions occasioned by assaults.]

[192] [Probably some strong, coarse sort of substance like corduroy.]

[193] [Apparently this word means the secret pigeon-holes in a desk or secretary.]