The works of Thomas Middleton, Volume 3 (of 5)

[Kneels.

Lady Ager. Rise, sir.
Cap. Ager. O, pardon me!
I cannot honour you too much, too long.
I kneel not only to a mother now,
But to a woman that was never false:
Ye’re dear, and ye’re good too; I think a’ that:
What reverence does she merit! ’tis fit such
Should be distinguish’d from the prostrate sex;
And what distinction properer can be shewn,
Than honour done to her that keeps her own?
Lady Ager. Come, sir, I’ll have you rise.
Cap. Ager. To do a deed, then, [Rises.
That shall for ever raise me. O my glory,
Why, this, this is the quarrel that I look’d for!
The other[808] but a shift to hold time play.
You sacred ministers of preservation,
For heaven’s sake send him life,
And with it mighty health, and such a strength
May equal but the cause! I wish no foul things:
If life but glow in him, he shall know instantly
That I’m resolv’d to call him to account for’t.
Lady Ager. Why, hark you, sir——
Cap. Ager. I bind you by your honour, madam,
You speak no hindrance to’s; take heed, you ought not.
Lady Ager. What an unhappiness have I in goodness!
’Tis ever my desire to intend well,
But have no fortunate way in’t. For all this
Deserve I yet no better of you
But to be griev’d again? Are you not well
With honest gain of fame, with safety purchas’d?
Will you needs tempt a ruin that avoids you? [Exit.
Cap. Ager. No, you’ve prevail’d: things of this nature sprung,
When they use action must use little tongue.—

Enter Servant.

Now, sir, the news?

Ser. Sir, there’s a gentlewoman
Desires some conference with you.
Cap. Ager. How, with me?
A gentlewoman? what is she?
Ser. Her attendant
Deliver’d her to be the Colonel’s sister.
Cap. Ager. O, for a storm then! [Exit Servant] 'las, poor, virtuous gentlewoman,
I will endure her violence with much pity!
She comes to ease her heart, good, noble soul;
’Tis e’en a charity to release the burden;
Were not that remedy ordain’d for women,
Their hearts would never hold three years together:
And here she comes; I never mark’d so much of her;

Enter Colonel’s Sister.

That face can be the mistress of no anger
But I might very well endure a month, methinks.—
I am the man; speak, lady; I’ll stand fair.
Col.’s Sist. And I’m enjoin’d by vow to fall thus low,

[Kneels.

And from the dying hand of a repentant
Offer, for expiation of wrongs done you,
Myself, and with myself all that was his,
Which upon that condition was made mine,
Being his soul’s wish to depart absolute man,
In life a soldier, death a Christian.
Cap. Ager. O, heaven has touch’d him nobly! how it shames
My virtue’s slow perfection! Rise, dear brightness—
I forget manners too—up, matchless sweetness!
Col.’s Sist. I must not, sir; there is not in my vow
That liberty; I must be receiv’d first,
Or all denied; if either, I am free.
Cap. Ager. He must be without soul should deny thee;
And with that reverence I receive the gift
As it was sent me. [Raises her.] Worthy Colonel,
Has such a conquering way i’ th’ blest things!
Who ever overcomes, he only wins. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Street: a noise of “hem” within.^[809]

Enter Captain Albo, Meg, and Priss.

Meg. Hark of these hard-hearted bloodhounds! these butchers are e’en as merciless as their dogs; they knock down a woman’s fame e’en as it walks the streets by 'em.

Priss. And the captain here that should defend us walks by like John of the apple-loft.

Cap. Albo. What for interjections, Priss, hem, evax, vah?^[810] let the carnifexes ^[811] scour their throats! thou knowest there is a curse hangs over their bloody heads; this year there shall be more butchers’ pricks burnt than of all trades besides.

Meg. I do wonder how thou camest to be a captain.

Cap. Albo. As thou camest to be a bawd, Meg, and Priss to be a whore; every one by their deserts.

Meg. Bawd and whore? out, you unprofitable rascal! hast not thou been at the new play yet, to teach thee better manners? truly they say they are the finest players, and good speakers of gentlewomen of our quality; bawd and whore are ^[812] not mentioned amongst 'em, but the handsomest narrow-mouthed names they have for us, that some of them may serve as well for a lady as for one of our occupation.

Priss. Prithee, patroness, let’s go see a piece of that play; if we shall have good words for our money, ’tis as much as we can deserve, i’faith.

Meg. I doubt ’tis too late now; but another time, servant.

Cap. Albo. Let’s go now, sweet face; I am acquainted with one of the pantomimics; the bulchins ^[813] will use the Irish captain with respect, and you two shall be boxed amongst the better sort.

Priss. Sirrah captain Albo, I doubt you are but white-livered; look that you defend us valiantly, you know your penance else.—Patroness, you remember how you used him once?

Meg. Ay, servant, and I shall never forget it till I use him so again.—Do you remember, captain?

Cap. Albo. Mum, Meg; I will not hear on’t now.

Meg. How I and my Amazons stript you as naked as an Indian——

Cap. Albo. Why, Meg——

Meg. And then how I bound you to the good behaviour in the open fields——

Priss. And then you strowed oats upon his hoppers——

Cap. Albo. Prithee, sweet face——

Priss. And then brought your ducks to nibble upon him.—You remember?

Cap. Albo. O, the remembrance tortures me again! no more, good sweet face.

Meg. Well, lead on, sir; but hark a little.

Enter Chough and Trimtram.

Chough. Didst thou bargain for the bladders with the butcher, Trim?

Trim. Ay, sir, I have 'em here; I’ll practise to swim too, sir, and then I may roar with the water at London Bridge: he that roars by land and by water both is the perfect roarer.

Chough. Well, I’ll venture to swim too: if my father-in-law gives me a good dowry with his daughter, I shall hold up my head well enough.

Trim. Peace, sir; here’s practice for our roaring, here’s a centaur and two hippocrenes.

Chough. Offer the jostle, Trim.

[Trimtram jostles Captain Albo.

Cap. Albo. Ha! what meanest thou by that?

Trim. I mean to confront thee, cyclops.

Chough. I’ll tell thee what 'a means—is this thy sister?

Cap. Albo. How then, sir?

Chough. Why, then, I say she is a bronstrops; and this is a fucus.^[814]

Priss. No, indeed, sir; we are both fucusses.

Cap. Albo. Art thou military? art thou a soldier?

Chough. A soldier? no, I scorn to be so poor; I am a roarer.

Cap. Albo. A roarer?

Trim. Ay, sir, two roarers.

Cap. Albo. Know, then, my fresh-water friends, that I am a captain.

Chough. What, and have but two to serve under you?

Cap. Albo. I am now retiring the field.

Trim. You may see that by his bag and baggage.

Chough. Deliver up thy panagron to me.

Trim. And give me thy sindicus.

Cap. Albo. Deliver?

Meg. I pray you, captain, be contented; the gentlemen seem to give us very good words.

Chough. Good words? ay, if you could understand 'em; the words cost twenty pound.

Meg. What is your pleasure, gentlemen?

Chough. I would enucleate my fructifer.

Priss. What says he, patroness?

Meg. He would enoculate: I understand the gentleman very pithily.

Cap. Albo. Speak, are you gentle or plebeian? can you give arms?

Chough. Arms? ay, sir; you shall feel our arms presently.

Trim. ’Sault you the women; I’ll pepper him till he stinks again: I perceive what countryman he is; let me alone with him.

Cap. Albo. Darest thou charge a captain?

Trim. Yes, and discharge upon him too.

Cap. Albo. Foh, ’tis poison to my country, the slave has eaten pippins! O, shoot no more! turn both thy broadsides rather than thy poop; ’tis foul play; my country breeds no poison.^[815] I yield; the great O Toole ^[816] shall yield on these conditions.

Chough. I have given one of 'em a fair fall, Trim.

Trim. Then thus far we bring home conquest.—
Follow me, captain; the cyclops doth command.
Chough. Follow me, tweaks,[817] the centaur doth command.

Meg. Any thing, sweet gentlemen: will’t please you to lead to the tavern, where we’ll make all friends?

Trim. Why, now you come to the conclusion.

Chough. Stay, Trim; I have heard your tweaks are like your mermaids, they have sweet voices to entice the passengers: let’s have a song, and then we’ll set 'em at liberty.

Trim. In the commendation of roaring, not else, sir.

Chough. Ay, in the commendation of roaring.

Meg. The best we can, gentlemen.

[Sings, Priss joining in chorus.

Then here thou shalt resign
Both captain and commander;
That name was never thine,
But apple-squire[818] and pander;
And henceforth will me grant,
In pillage or in monies,
In clothing or provant,[819]
Whate’er we get by conies:
With a hone, a hone, a hone,
No cheaters nor decoys
Shall have a share, but alone
The bravest roaring boys.

Whate’er we get by gulls
Of country or of city,
Old fat-caps[820] or young heirs,
Or lawyers’ clerks so witty;
By sailors newly landed,
To put in for fresh waters;
By wandering gander-mooners,[821]
Or muffled late night-walkers.
With a hone, &c.

Whate’er we get by strangers,
The Scotch, the Dutch, or Irish,
Or, to come nearer home,
By masters of the parish;
It is concluded thus,
By all and every wench,
To take of all their coins,
And pay 'em back in French.
With a hone, &c.

Chough. Melodious minotaur!

Trim. Harmonious hippocrene!

Chough. Sweet-breasted ^[822] bronstrops!

Trim. Most tunable tweak!

Chough. Delicious duplar!

Trim. Putrefactious panagron!

Chough. Calumnious calicut!

Trim. And most singular sindicus!

Meg. We shall never be able to deserve these good words at your hands, gentlemen.

Cap. Albo. Shake golls ^[823] with the captain; he shall be thy valiant friend.

Chough. Not yet, captain; we must make an end of our roaring first.

Trim. We’ll serve 'em as we did the tobacco-man, lay a curse upon 'em; marry, we’ll lay it on gently, because they have used us so kindly, and then we’ll shake golls^[823] together.

Priss. As gently as you can, sweet gentlemen.

Chough. For thee, O pander, mayst thou trudge till the damned soles of thy boots fleet into dirt, but never rise into air!

Trim. Next, mayst thou fleet so long from place to place, till thou be’st kicked out of Fleet Street!

Chough. As thou hast lived by bad flesh, so rotten mutton be thy bane!

Trim. When thou art dead, may twenty whores follow thee, that thou may st go a squire ^[824] to thy grave!

Cap. Albo. Enough for me, sweet faces; let me sleep in my grave.

Chough. For thee, old sindicus, may I see thee ^[825] ride in a caroch with two wheels, and drawn with one horse!

Trim. Ten beadles running by, instead of footmen!

Chough. With every one a whip, ’stead of an Irish dart!^[826]

Trim. Forty barbers’ basins ^[827] sounding before, instead of trumpets!

Meg. This will be comely indeed, sweet gentlemen roarers.

Trim. Thy ruff starched yellow ^[828] with rotten eggs!

Chough. And mayst thou then be drawn from Holborn to Hounslow Heath!

Trim. And then be burnt to Colebrook, for destroying of Maidenhead!

Meg. I will study to deserve this kindness at your hands, gentlemen.

Chough. Now for thee, little fucus; mayst thou first serve out thy time as a tweak, and then become a bronstrops,^[829] as she is!

Trim. Mayst thou have a reasonable good spring, for thou art like to have many dangerous foul falls!

Chough. Mayst thou have two ruffs torn in one week!

Trim. May spiders only weave thy cobweb-lawn!

Chough. Mayst thou set up in Rogue-lane—

Trim. Live till thou stinkest in Garden-alleys—

Chough. And die sweetly in Tower-ditch!

Priss. I thank you for that, good sir roarer.

Chough. Come, shall we go now, Trim? my father-in-law stays for me all this while.

Trim. Nay, I’ll serve 'em as we did the tobacco-man; I’ll bury 'em altogether, and give 'em an epitaph.

Chough. All together, Trim? why, then, the epitaph will be accessary to the sin.

Trim. Alas, he has kept the door all his life-time! for pity, let ’em lie together in their graves.^[830]

Cap. Albo. E'en as thou wilt, Trim, and I thank you too, sir.

Trim. He that the reason would know, let him hark,
Why these three[831] were buried near Marybone Park;
These three were a pander, a bawd, and a whore,
That suck’d many dry to the bones before.
Will you know how they liv’d? here’t may be read;
The Low Countries did ever find 'em bread;
They liv’d by Flushing, by Sluys, and the Groyne,
Sicken’d in France, and died under the Line.
Three letters at last commended 'em hither,
But the hangman broke one in putting together:
P was the first, who cries out for a pardon,
O craves his book, yet could not read such a hard one,
An X was the last, which in conjunction
Was broke by Brandon;[832] and here’s the conclusion:
By three trees, three letters, these three, pander, bawd, whore,
Now stink below ground, stunk long above before.

Chough. So, now we have done with you; remember roaring boys.

Trim. Farewell, centaur!

Chough. Farewell, bronstrops!

Trim. Farewell, fucus!

[Exeunt Chough and Trimtram.

Cap. Albo. Well, Meg, I will learn to roar, and still maintain the name of captain over these lancepresadoes.^[833]

Meg. If thou dost not, mayst thou be buried under the roaring curse! [Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A Room in Russell’s House.

Enter Physician, and Jane dressed as a bride.

Phy. Will you be obstinate?
Jane. Torment me not,
Thou lingering executioner to death,
Greatest disease to nature, that striv’st by art
To make men long a-dying! your practice is
Upon men’s bodies; as men pull roses
For their own relish, but to kill the flower,
So you maintain your lives by others’ deaths:
What eat you then but[834] carrion?
Phy. Fie, bitterness!
Ye’d need to candy o’er your tongue a little,
Your words will hardly be digested else.
Jane. You can give yourself a vomit to return 'em,
If they offend your stomach.
Phy. Hear my vow;
You are[835] to be married to-day——
Jane. A second torment,
Worse than the first, 'cause unavoidable!
I would I could as soon annihilate
My father’s will in that as forbid thy lust!
Phy. If you then tender an unwilling hand,
Meet it with revenge, marry a cuckold.
Jane. If thou wilt marry me, I’ll make that vow,
And give my body for satisfaction
To him that should enjoy me for his wife.
Phy. Go to; I’ll mar your marriage.
Jane. Do; plague me so:
I’ll rather bear the brand of all that’s past,
In capital characters upon my brow,
Than think to be thy whore or marry him.
Phy. I will defame thee ever——
Jane. Spare me not.
Phy. I will produce thy bastard,
Bring thee to public penance——
Jane. No matter, I care not;
I shall then have a clean sheet; I’ll wear twenty,
Rather than one defil’d with thee.
Phy. Look for revenge!
Jane. Pursue it fully then.—Out of his hate
I shall escape,[836] I hope, a loathed fate.

[Aside, and exit.

Phy. Am I rejected, all my baits nibbled off,
And not the fish caught? I’ll trouble the whole stream,
And choke it in the mud: since hooks not take,
I’ll throw in nets that shall or kill or break.

Enter Trimtram with rosemary.^[837]

This is the bridegroom’s man.—Hark, sir, a word.
Trim. ’Tis a busy day, sir, nor I need no physic;
You see I scour about my business.

Phy. Pray you, a word, sir: your master is to be married to-day?

Trim. Else all this rosemary’s lost.

Phy. I would speak with your master, sir.

Trim. My master, sir, is to be married this morning, and cannot be within while ^[838] soon at night.

Phy. If you will do your master the best service
That e’er you did him; if he shall not curse
Your negligence hereafter slacking it;
If he shall bless me for the dearest friend
That ever his acquaintance met withal;
Let me speak with him ere he go to church.

Trim. A right physician! you would have none go to the church nor churchyard till you send them thither: well, if death do not spare you yourselves, he deals hardly with you, for you are better benefactors and send more to him than all diseases besides.

Chough [within]. What, Trimtram, Trimtram!

Trim. I come, sir.—Hark you, you may hear him! he’s upon the spur, and would fain mount the saddle of matrimony; but, if I can, I’ll persuade him to come to you.

Phy. Pray you, do, sir. [Exit Trimtram.]—I’ll teach all peevish niceness ^[839]

To beware the strong advantage of revenge.

Enter Chough.

Chough. Who’s that would speak with me?

Phy. None but a friend, sir; I would speak with you.

Chough. Why, sir, and I dare speak with any man under the universe. Can you roar, sir?

Phy. No, in faith, sir;
I come to tell you mildly for your good,
If you please to hear me: you are upon marriage?

Chough. No, sir; I am towards it, but not upon it yet.

Phy. Do you know what you do?

Chough. Yes, sir, I have practised what to do before now; I would be ashamed to be married else: I have seen a bronstrops in my time, and a hippocrene, and a tweak too.

Phy. Take fair heed, sir; the wife that you would marry
Is not fit for you.
Chough. Why, sir, have you tried her?
Phy. Not I, believe it, sir; but believe withal
She has been tried.
Chough. Why, sir, is she a fructifer or a fucus?
Phy. All that I speak, sir, is in love to you:
Your bride, that may be, has not that portion
That a bride should have.

Chough. Why, sir, she has a thousand and a better penny.

Phy. I do not speak of rubbish, dross, and ore,
But the refinèd metal, honour, sir.
Chough. What she wants in honour shall be made
up in worship, sir; money will purchase both.
Phy. To be plain with you, she’s naught.

Chough. If thou canst not roar, thou’rt a dead man! my bride naught? [Drawing his sword.

Phy. Sir, I do not fear you that way; what I speak

[Drawing his sword.

My life shall maintain; I say she is naught.
Chough. Dost thou not fear me?
Phy. Indeed I do not, sir.

Chough. I’ll never draw upon thee while I live for that trick; put up and speak freely.

Phy. Your intended bride is a whore; that’s freely, sir.

Chough. Yes, faith, a whore’s free enough, and ^[840] she hath a conscience: is she a whore? foot, I warrant she has the pox then.

Phy. Worse, the plague; ’tis more incurable.
Chough. A plaguy whore? a pox on her, I’ll none of her!
Phy. Mine accusation shall have firm evidence;
I will produce an unavoided witness,
A bastard of her bearing.

Chough. A bastard? ’snails, there’s great suspicion she’s a whore then! I’ll wrestle a fall with her father for putting this trick upon me, as I am a gentleman.

Phy. Good sir, mistake me not; I do not speak
To break the contract of united hearts;
I will not pull that curse upon my head,
To separate the husband and the wife;
But this, in love, I thought fit to reveal,
As the due office betwixt man and man,
That you might not be ignorant of your ills.
Consider now of my premonishment
As yourself shall please.

Chough. I’ll burn all the rosemary to sweeten the house, for, in my conscience, ’tis infected: has she drunk bastard?^[841] if she would piss me wine-vinegar now nine times a-day, I’d never have her, and I thank you too.

Re-enter Trimtram.

Trim. Come, will you come away, sir? they have all rosemary, and stay for you to lead the way.

Chough. I’ll not be married to-day, Trimtram: hast e’er an almanac about thee? this is the nineteenth of August, look what day of the month ’tis.

Trim. ’Tis tenty-nine ^[842] indeed, sir.

[Looks in an almanac.

Chough. What’s the word?^[843] what says Bretnor?^[844]

Trim. The word is, sir, There’s a hole in her coat.

Chough. I thought so; the physician agrees with him; I’ll not marry to-day.

Trim. I pray you, sir; there will be charges for new rosemary else; this will be withered by to-morrow.

Chough. Make a bonfire on’t, to sweeten Rosemary-lane: prithee, Trim, entreat my father-in-law that might have been, to come and speak with me.

Trim. The bride cries already and looks t’other way; and ^[845] you be so backward too, we shall have a fine arseward wedding on’t. [Exit.

Chough. You’ll stand to your words, sir?

Phy. I’ll not fly the house, sir; When you have need, call me to evidence.

Chough. If you’ll prove she has borne a bastard, I’ll stand to’t she’s a whore. [Exit Physician.

The works of Thomas Middleton, Volume 3 (of 5)

About This Book

SCENE IV.

ACT V. SCENE I.