The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (6 of 10):, by Francis Beaumont; John Fletcher.

Wife. To him Rafe, to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy leg before Rafe.

Cit. Falsifie a blow Rafe, falsifie a blow, the Giant lies open on the left side.

Wife. Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O Rafe's almost down, Rafe's almost down.

Rafe. Susan inspire me, now have up again.

Wife. Up, up, up, up, up, so Rafe, down with him, down with him Rafe.

Cit. Fetch him over the hip boy.

Wife. There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Rafe.

Cit. No Rafe, get all out of him first.

Rafe. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end
Thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods,
Who never prosper those that do despise them,
For all the villanies which thou hast done
To Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home,
By my stiff arm, a Knight adventurous.
But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul
To sad Avernus, whither it must go,
What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave?

Barba. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.

Rafe. Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful cave,
And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.

Squire. Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner,
Whom this wild man hath used as you see.

Wife. This is the [first] wise word I hear[d] the Squire speak.

Rafe. Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd,
That I may give him condign punishment.

1. Kni. I am a Knight that took my journey post
Northward from London, and in courteous wise,
This Gyant train'd me to his [loathsome] den,
Under pretence of killing of the itch,
And all my body with a powder strew'd,
That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard,
And my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'de,
And with a water washt my tender eyes,
Whilst up and down about me still he skipt,
Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip't
With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace,
I shall not dare to look a dog i'th' face.

Wife. Alass poor Knight, relieve him Rafe, relieve poor Knights whilst you live.

Dwar. Puissant Knight of the burning Pestle height,
See here another wretch, whom this foul beast
Hath scorcht and scor'd in this inhumane wise.

Rafe. Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth,
And what hath been thy usage in this Cave.

2. Knight. I am a Knight, Sir Pock-hole is my name,
And by my birth I am a Londoner,
Free by my Copy, but my Ancestors
Were Frenchmen all, and riding hard this way,
Upon a trotting horse my bones did ake,
And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes,
Light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend,
With sharpest instrument of purest steel,
Did cut the gristle of my Nose away,
And in the place this velvet plaster stands,
Relieve me gentle Knight out of his hands.

Wife. Good Rafe relieve Sir Pockhole, and send him away, for in truth his breath stinks.

Man. Deliver us.

Woman. Deliver us.

Wife. Harke George, what a woful cry there is, I think some woman lyes in there.

Wife. But will not Raf[e] kill this Giant, surely I am afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.

Citizen. Not so Mouse neither, if he could convert him.

Wife. I George, if he could convert him; but a Gyant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the Divels mark about her, God bless us, that had a Gyant to her son, that was call'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire, didst never hear it George.

Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of Lotion in his hand, and the Dwarf leading a woman, with Dyet-bread and Drink.

Cit. Peace Nell, here comes the prisoners.

Dwar. Here be these pined wretches, manfull Knight,
That for this six weeks have not seen a wight.

Raph. Deliver what you are, and how you came
To this sad Cave, and what your usage was?

Man. I am an errant Knight that followed Arms,
With spear and shield, and in my tender years
I strucken was with Cupids fiery shaft,
And fell in love with this my Lady dear,
And stole her from her friends in Turne-ball street,
And bore her up and down from Town to Town,
Where we did eat and drink and Musick he[a]re;
Till at the length at this unhappy Town
We did arrive, and coming to this Cave,
This beast us caught, and put us in a Tub,
Where we this two months sweat, and should have done
Another Month if you had not relieved us.

Wom. This bread and water hath our dyet been,
Together with a rib cut from a neck
Of burned Mutton, hard hath been our fare,
Release us from this ugly Gyants snare.

Man. This hath been [all] the food we have receiv'd,
But only twice a day for novelty,
He gave a spoonful of his hearty broth [Pulls out a siringe.
To each of us, through this same [sl]ender quill.

Raph. From this infernall Monster you shall go,
That useth Knights and gentle Ladies so.
Convey them hence. [Exeunt man and woman.

Cit. Cunny, I can tell thee the Gentlem[e]n like Rafe.

Wife. I George, I see it well enough. Gentlemen I thank you all heartily for gracing my man Raph, and I promise you, you shall see him oftner.

Cit. Now Raph is in this humor, I know he would ha beaten all the boys in the house, if they had been set on him.

Wife. I George, but it is well as it is: I warrant you the gentlemen do consider what it is to overthrow a Gyant: but look George, here comes Mistriss Merri-thought, and her son Michael, now you are welcome Mistris Merri-thought, now Raph has done you may go on.

Mist. mer. Micke My Boy?

Mich. I forsooth Mother.

Mist. mer. Be merry Micke, we are at home now: where I warrant you, yo[u] shall find the house flung out of the windows: Hark: hey dogs, hey, this is the old world y'faith with my Husband: [if I] get in amo[n]g them, I'll play them such [a] les[s]on, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again. Why Master Merry-thought, Husband, Charles Merry-thought.

Old Mer. within. If you will sing, and dance, and laugh, and hollow, and laugh again: and then cry there boys there: why then,

Mist. Mer. Why Charles do you not know your own natural wife? I say open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with you: you are a Gentleman Charles, and an old man, and father of two children; and I my self, (though I say it) by my mothers side, Niece to a Worshipful Gentleman, and a Conductor, he has been three times in his Majesties service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his journey.

Hark you Mistriss Merri-thought, you that walk upon Adventures, and forsake your Husband, because he sings with never a penny in his purse; what shall I think my self the worse? Faith no, I'll be merry.

You come not here, here's none but Lads of mettle, lives of a hundred years, and upwards, care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them warble.

Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.

Mist. Mer. Why M. Merri-thought, what am I that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fellow-feeler, (as we may say) in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? have I not brought you Children? are they not like you Charles? look upon thine own Image, hardhearted man; and yet for all this—

Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope George, is he?

Cit. What if he be, sweet heart?

Wife. Marry if he be George, I'll make bold to tell him he's an ingrant old man, to use his bed-fellow so scurvily.

Cit. What how does he use her Honey?

Wife. Marry come up sir sauce-box, I think you'll take his part, will you not? Lord how hot are you grown: you are a fine man an you had a fine Dog, it becomes you sweetly.

Cit. Nay, prethee Nell chide not: for as I am an honest man, and a true Christian Grocer, I do not like his doings.

Wife. I cry you mercy then George, you know we are all frail, and full of infirmities. Dee hear Master Merri-thought, may I crave a word with you?

Old Mer. within. Strike up lively lads.

Wife. I had not thought in truth, Master Merri-thought, that a man of your age and discretion (as I may say) being a Gentleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions, could have used so little respect to the weakness of his wife: for your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yoke-fellow, with whose help you draw through the myre of this transitory world: Nay, she's your own rib. And again—

Wife. Marry with a vengeance, I am heartily sorry for the poor Gentlewoman: but if I were thy wife, i'faith gray-beard, i'faith—

Cit. I prethee sweet Hony-suckle, be content.

Wife. Give me such words that am a Gentlewoman born, hang him hoary Rascal. Get me some drink George, I am almost molten with fretting: now beshrew his Knaves heart for it.

Old mer. Play me a light Lavalto: come, be frollick, fill the good fellows wine.

Mist. mer. Why Master Merri-thought, are you disposed to make me wait here: you'll open I hope, i'll fetch them that shall open else.

Old mer. Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you something, if not—

Mist. mer. Now a Churles fart in your teeth Sir: Come Mick, we'll not trouble him, a shall not ding us i'th' teeth with his bread and his broth, that he shall not: come boy, I'll provide for thee, I warrant thee: wee'll go to Master Venterwels the Merchant, I'll get his letter to mine Host of the Bell in Waltham, there I'll place thee with the Tapster, will not that do well for thee Mick? and let me alone for that old Cuckoldly Knave your father, I'll use him in his kind, I warrant ye.

Wife. Come George, where's the beer?

Cit. Here Love.

Wife. This old fornicating fellow will not out of my mind yet; Gentlemen, I'll begin to you all, I desire more of your acquaintance, with all my heart. Fill the Gentlemen some beer George.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Wife. Look George, the little boy's come again, methinks he looks something like the Prince of Orange in his long stocking, if he had a little harness about his neck. George, I will have him dance Fading; Fading, is a fine Jig I'll assure you Gentlemen: begin brother, now a capers sweet heart, now a turn a th' toe, and then tumble: cannot you tumble youth?

Boy. No indeed forsooth.

Wife. Nor eat fire?

Boy. Neither.

Wife. Why then I thank you heartily, there's two pence to buy you points withall.

Jasp. There boy, deliver this: but do it well. Hast thou provided me four lusty fellows?

Able to carry me? and art thou perfect
In all thy business?

Boy. Sir you need not fear,
I have my lesson here, and cannot miss it:
The men are ready for you, and what else
Pertains to this imployment.

Jasp. There my boy,
Take it, but buy no land.

Boy. Faith sir 'twere rare
To see so young a purchaser: I flie,
And on my wings carry your destiny. [Exit.

Jasp. Go, and be happy: Now my latest hope
Forsake me not, but fling thy Anchor out,
And let it hold: stand fix[t] thou rolling stone,
Till I enjoy my dearest: hear me all
You powers that rule in men celestial. [Exit.

Wife. Go thy ways, thou art as crooked a sprig as ever grew, in London, I warrant him he'll come to some naughty end or other: for his looks say no less: Besides, his father (you know George) is none of the best, you heard him take me up like a Gill flirt: and sing bawdy Songs upon me: but i'faith if I live George—

Cit. Let me alone sweet-heart, I have a trick in my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one year, and make him sing Peccavi, 'ere I leave him, and yet he shall never know who hurt him neither.

Wife. Do my good Ge[o]rge, do.

Cit. What shall we have Rafe do now boy?

Boy. You shall have what you will sir.

Cit. Why so sir, go and fetch me him then, and let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him a child.

Boy. Believe me Sir, that will not do so well, 'tis stale, it has been had before at the Red Bull.

Wife. George, let Rafe travell over great hills, and let him be [very] weary, and come to the King of Cracovia's house, covered with velvet, and there let the Kings daughter stand in her window all in beaten gold, combing her golden locks with a comb of Ivory, and let her spye Rafe, and fall in love with him, and come down to him, and carry him into her fathers house, and then let Rafe talk with her.

Cit. Well said Nel, it shall be so: boy let's ha't done quickly.

Boy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done already, you shall hear them talk together: but we cannot present a house covered with black Velvet, and a Lady in beaten gold.

Cit. Sir Boy, lets ha't as you can then.

Boy. Besides, it will shew ill-favoredly to have a Grocers Prentice to court a Kings daughter.

Cit. Will it so Sir? you are well read in Histories: I pray you what was Sir Dagonet? was not he Prentice to a Grocer in London? read the Play of the Four Prentices of London, where they toss their Pikes so: I pray you fetch him in Sir, fetch him in.

Boy. It shall be done, it is not our fault Gentlemen. [Exit.

Wife. Now we shall see fine doings I warrant thee George. O here they come; how prettily the King of Cracovia's daughter is drest.

Cit. I Nell, it is the fashion of that Countrey, I warrant thee.

Rafe. My name is Rafe, I am an Englishman,
As true as steel, a hearty Englishman,
And Prentice to a Grocer in the Strand,
By deed indent, of which I have one part:
But fortune calling me to follow Arms,
On me this holy Order I did take,
Of burning Pestle, which in all mens eyes,
I bear, confounding Ladies enemies.

Lady. Oft have I heard of your brave Countrymen,
And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food;
My father oft will tell me of a drink
In England found, and Nipitato call'd,
Which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts.

Rafe. Lady 'tis true, you need not lay your lips
To better Nipitato than there is.

Lady. And of a wild-fowl he will often speak,
Which poudred beef and mustard called is:
For there have been great Wars 'twixt us and you,
But truely Rafe, it was not long of me.
Tell me then Rafe could you contented be,
To wear a Ladies favor in your shield?

Rafe. I am a Knight of Religious Order,
And will not wear a favor of a Ladies
That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions.

Cit. Well said Rafe, convert her if thou canst.

Rafe. Besides, I have a Lady of my own
In merry England; for whose virtuous sake
I took these Arms, and Susan is her name,
A Coblers maid in Milkstreet, whom I vow
Nere to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last.

Lady. Happy that Cobling Dame, who ere she be
That for her own (dear Rafe) hath gotten thee.
Unhappy I, that nere shall see the day
To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away.

Rafe. Lady farewell, I must needs take my leave.

Lady. Hard-hearted Rafe, that Ladies dost deceive.

Cit. Hark thee Rafe, there's money for thee; give something in the King of Cracovia's house, be not beholding to him.

Rafe. Lady before I go, I must remember
Your fathers Officers, who truth to tell,
Have been about me very diligent:
Hold up thy snowy hand thou princely maid,
There's twelvepence for your fathers Chamberlain.
And another shilling for his Cook,
For by my troth the Goose was rosted well.
And twelve pence for your fathers Horse-keeper,
For nointing my horse back, and for his butter
There is another shilling. [T]o the maid
That washt my boot-hose, there's an English groat,
And twopence to the boy that wip't my boots.
And last, fair Lady, there is for your self
Three pence to buy you pins at Bumbo Fair.

Lady. Full many thanks, and I will keep them safe
Till all the heads be off, for thy sake Rafe.

Rafe. Advance my Squire and Dwarf, I cannot stay.

Lady. Thou kil'st my heart in parting thus away. [Exeunt.

Wife. I commend Rafe, yet that he will not stoop to a Cracovian, there's properer women in London than any are there I-wis. But here comes Master Humphrey, and his love again, now George.

Cit. I Cunny, peace.

Merc. Go get you up, I will not be intreated.
And Gossip mine I'll keep you sure hereafter
From gadding out again, with boys and unthrifts,
Come they are womens tears, I know your fashion.
Go sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key, [Exit Luce and Boy.
Safe as [you love] your life. Now my son Humphrey,
You may both rest assured of my love
In this, and reap your own desire.

Hum. I see this love you speak of, through your daughter.
Although the hole be little, and hereafter
Will yield the like in all I may or can,
Fitting a Christian, and a Gentleman.

Merc. I Do believe you (my good son) and thank you.
For 'twere an impudence to think you flattered.

Hum. It were indeed, but shall I tell you why,
I have been beaten twice about the lye.

Merc. Well son, no more of complement, my daughter
Is yours again; appoint the time and take her.
Wee'll have no stealing for it, I my self
And some few of our friends will see you married.

Hum. I would you would i'faith, for be it known
I ever was afraid to lye alone.

Mer. Some three days hence then.

Hum. Three days, let me see,
'Tis somewhat of the most, yet I agree,
Because I mean against the pointed day,
To visit all my friends in new array. [Enter servant.

Ser. Sir, there's a Gentlewoman without would speak with your Worship.

Mer. What is she?

Ser. Sir I askt her not.

Mer. Bid her come in.

Mist. mer. Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poor Suitor to you Sir, in the behalf of this child.

Mer. Are you not wife to Merri-thought?

Mist. mer. Yes truly, would I had nere seen his eyes, he has undone me and himself, and his children, and there he lives at home and sings, and hoyts, and revels among his drunken companions, but I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth, he knows not: And therefore if it like your Worship, I would intreat your Letter, to the honest Host of the Bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his Tapster, in some setled course of life.

Mist. mer. Will you so Sir, how say you by that? come Micke, let him keep his wind to cool his Pottage, we'll go to thy Nurses, Micke, she knits silk stockings boy, and we'll knit too boy, and be beholding to none of them all.

LETTER.

Merch. Sir that I have wronged your love, I must confess, in which I have purchast to my self, besides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not your anger, good Sir, outlive me, but suffer me to rest in peace with your forgiveness; let my body (if a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought to your daughter, that she may [truely] know my hot flames are now buried, and withall, receive a testimony of the zeal I bore her virtue: farewell for ever, and be ever happy.

Jasper.

Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted
Upon the miserable, more than yet I feell,
Let it together seize me, and at once
Press down my soul, I cannot bear the pain
Of these delaying tortures: thou that art
The end of all, and the sweet rest of all;
Come, come oh death bring me to thy peace,
And blot out all the memory I nourish
Both of [my] father and my cruel friend.
O wretch'd maid still living to be wretched,
To be a say to fortune in her changes,
And grow to number times and woes together,
How happy had I been, if being born
My grave had been my cradle! [Enter servant.

Ser. By your leave
Young Mistris, here's a boy hath brought a Coffin,
What a would say I know not: but your father
Charg'd me to give you notice, here they come.

Luce. For me I hope 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome.

Boy. Fair Mistriss, let me not add greater grief
To that great store you have already; Jasper
That whilst he liv'd was yours, now dead,
And here inclos'd, commanded me to bring
His body hither, and to crave a tear
From those fair eyes, though he deserve not pitty,
To deck his Funeral; for so he bid me
Tell her for whom he di'd.

Luce. He shall have many: [Exeunt Coffin-carrier and Boy.
Good friends depart a little, whilst I take
My leave of this dead man, that once I lov'd:
Hold, yet a little, life, and then I give thee
To thy first heavenly being; O my friend!
Hast thou deceiv'd me thus, and got before me?
I shall not long be after, but believe me,
Thou wert too cruel Jasper 'gainst thy self,
In punishing the fault I could have pardoned,
With so untimely death; thou didst not wrong me,
But ever wer't most kind, most true, most loving;
And I the most unkind, most false, most cruell.
Didst thou but ask a tear? I'll give thee all,
Even all my eyes can pour down, all my sigh's
And all my self, before thou goest from me
There are but sparing Rites: But if thy soul
Be yet about this place, and can behold
And see what I prepare to deck thee with,
It s[h]all go up, born on the wings of peace,
And satisfied: first will I sing thy Dirge,
Then kiss thy pale lips, and then dye my self,
And fill one Coffin and one grave together.

Come you whose loves are dead,
And whilst I sing
Weep and wring
Every hand and every head,
Bind with Cipress and sad Ewe,
Ribbands black, and Candles blue,
For him that was of men most true.

Come with heavy mourning,
And on his grave
Let him have
Sacrifice of sighs and groaning,
Let him have fair flowers enow,
White and purple, green and yellow,
For him that was of men most true.

Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys,
I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death.

Jasp. And thus you meet the living.

Luce. Save me Heaven.

Jasp. Nay, do not flye me fair, I am no spirit,
Look better on me, do you know me yet?

Luce. O thou dear shadow of my friend.

Jasp. Dear substance,
I swear I am no shadow feel my hand,
It is the same it was, I am your Jasper,
Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving,
Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof
I put in practice of your constancy:
For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood,
And set my soul at liberty, than drawn
The least drop from that body, for which boldness
Doom me to any thing: if death, I take it
And willingly.

Luce. This death I'll give you for it,
So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit,
But my own truest, truest, truest friend,
Why do you come thus to me?

Jasp. First, to see you,
Then to convey you hence.

Luce. It cannot be,
For I am lockt up here, and watcht at all hours,
That 'tis impossible for me to scape.

Jasp. Nothing more possible, within this Coffin
Do you convey your self, let me alone,
I have the wits of twenty men about me,
Only I crave the shelter of your Closet
A little, and then fear me not; creep in
That they may presently convey you hence:
Fear nothing dearest love, I'll be your second,
Lye close, so, all goes well yet; boy.

Boy. At hand Sir.

Jasp. Convey away the Coffin, and be wary.

Boy. 'Tis done already.

Jasp. Now must I go conjure. [Exit.

Merch. Boy, boy.

Boy. Your servant Sir.

Merch. Do me this kindness boy, hold here's a crown: before thou bury the body of this fellow, carry it to his old merry father, and salute him from me, and bid him sing, he hath cause.

Boy. I will Sir.

Merch. And then bring me word what tune he is in, and have another crown: but do it truly. I have fitted him a bargain, now, will vex him.

Boy. God bless your Worships health Sir.

Merch. Farewell boy. [Exeunt.