Mac. Hang it o'th' side o'th' rock, as though the Britains
Stole hither to relieve him; who first ventures
To fetch it off, is ours. I cannot see him.
Jud. He lies close in a hole above, I know it,
Gnawing upon his anger: ha? no, 'tis not he.
Macer. 'Tis but the shaking of the boughs.
Jud. —— Shake 'em,
I am sure they shake me soundly. There.
Macer. 'Tis nothing.
Jud. Make no noise if he stir, a deadly tempest
Of huge stones fall upon us: 'tis done: away close. [Exit.
Enter Caratach.
Car. Sleep still, sleep sweetly child, 'tis all thou feedst on.
No gentle Britain near; no valiant charity
To bring thee food? poor knave, thou art sick extreme sick,
Almost grown wild for meat; and yet thy goodness
Will not confess, nor shew it. All the woods
Are double lin'd with soldiers; no way left us
To make a noble scape: I'll sit down by thee,
And when thou wak'st, either get meat to save thee,
Or lose my life i'th' purchase, Good gods comfort thee.
Enter Junius, Decius, Petillius, Guide.
Guide. Ye are not far off now, Sir.
Jun. Draw the Companies
The closest way thorow the woods; we'll keep on this way.
Guide. I will Sir: half a furlong more you'll come
Within the sight o'th' Rock; keep on the left side,
You'll be discover'd else: I'll lodge your Companies
In the wild Vines beyond ye.
Dec. Do ye mark him?
Jun. Yes, and am sorry for him.
Petill. Junius,
Pray let me speak two words with you.
Jun. Walk afore,
I'll overtake ye straight.
Dec. I will. [Exit.
Jun. Now, Captain.
Petill. You have oft told me, you have lov'd me, Junius.
Jun. Most sure I told you truth then.
Petill. And that love
Should not deny me any honest thing.
Jun. It shall not.
Petill. Dare ye swear it?
I have forgot all passages between us
That have been ill, forgiven too, forgot you.
Jun. What would this man have? By —— I do, Sir,
So it be fit to grant ye.
Pet[i]ll. 'Tis most honest.
Jun. Why, then I'll do it.
Petill. Kill me.
Jun. How?
Petill. Pray kill me.
Jun. Kill ye?
Pet. I, kill me quickly, suddenly,
Now kill me.
Jun. On what reason? ye amaze me.
Pet. If ye do love me, kill me, ask me not why:
I would be killed, and by you.
Jun. Mercy on me,
What ails this man? Petillius.
Petill. Pray ye dispatch me,
Ye are not safe whilst I live: I am dangerous,
Troubled extreamly, even to mischief, Junius,
An enemy to all good men: fear not, 'tis justice;
I shall kill you else.
Jun. Tell me but the cause,
And I will do it.
Petill. I am disgrac'd, my service
Slighted, and unrewarded by the General,
My hopes left wild and naked; besides these,
I am grown ridiculous, an ass, a folly
I dare not trust my self with: prethee kill me.
Jun. All these may be redeem'd as easily
As you would heal your finger.
Petill. Nay—
Jun. Stay, I'll do it,
You shall not need your anger: But first, Petillius,
You shall unarm your self; I dare not trust
A man so bent to mischief.
Petill. There's my sword;
And do it handsomely.
Jun. Yes, I will kill ye,
Believe that certain: but first I'll lay before ye
The most extreme fool ye have plaid in this,
The honor purpos'd for ye, the great honor
The General intended ye.
Petill. How?
Jun. And then I'll kill ye,
Because ye shall die miserable. Know Sir,
The Regiment was given me, but till time
Call'd ye to do some worthy deed, might stop
The peoples ill thoughts of ye, for Lord Penyus,
I mean his death. How soon this time's come to ye,
And hasted by Swetonius? Go, says he,
Junius and Decius, and go thou Petillius;
Distinctly, thou Petillius, and draw up,
To take stout Caratach; there's the deed purpos'd,
A deed to take off all faults, of all natures:
And thou Petillius; Mark it, there's the honor,
And that done, all made even.
Petill. Stay.
Jun. No, I'll kill ye.
He knew thee absolute, and full in soldier,
Daring beyond all dangers, found thee out
According to the boldness of thy spirit,
A Subject, such a Subject.
Petill. Harke ye Junius,
I will live now.
Jun. By no means. Wooed thy worth,
Held thee by the chin up, as thou sunk'st, and shew'd thee
How Honor held her arms out: Come, make ready,
Since ye will die an ass.
Petill. Thou wilt not kill me?
Jun. By —— but I will, Sir: I'll have no man dangerous
Live to destroy me afterward. Besides, you have gotten
Honor enough, let young men rise now. Nay,
I do perceive too by the General, (which is
One main cause ye shall die) howe'r he carry it,
Such a strong doting on ye, that I fear,
You shall command in chief: how are we paid then?
Come, if you will pray, dispatch it.
Petill. Is there no way?
Jun. Not any way to live.
Petill. I will do any thing,
Redeem my self at any price: good Junius,
Let me but die upon the Rock, but offer
My life up like a Soldier.
Jun. You will seek then
To out-doe every man.
Petill. Believe it Junius,
You shall goe stroke by stroke with me.
Jun. You'll leave off too,
As you are noble, and a soldier,
For ever these mad fancies.
Petill. Dare ye trust me?
By all that's good and honest.
Jun. There's your sword then,
And now come on a new man: Virtue guide thee. [Exeunt.
Enter Caratach, and Hengo on the Rock.
Car. Courage my Boy, I have found meat: look Hengo,
Look where some blessed Britain, to preserve thee,
Has hung a little food and drink: cheer up Boy,
Do not forsake me now.
Hengo. O Uncle. Uncle,
I feel I cannot stay long: yet I'll fetch it,
To keep your noble life: Uncle, I am heart-whole,
And would live.
Car. Thou shalt, long I hope.
Hen. But my head, Uncle:
Methinks the Rock goes round.
Enter Macer and Judas.
Ma. Mark 'em well, Judas.
Jud. Peace, as you love your life.
Hen. Do not you hear
The noise of Bels?
Car. Of Bels Boy? 'tis thy fancie,
Alas, thy bodies full of wind.
Hen. Methinks, Sir,
They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
To some near funeral of State: nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet Uncle, you will kill me sooner.
Car. Oh my poor chicken.
Hen. Fie, faint-hearted Uncle:
Come, tie me in your Belt, and let me down.
Car. I'll go my self Boy.
Hengo. No, as ye love me, Uncle;
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray tie me.
Car. I will, and all my care hang o'r thee: come child,
My valiant child.
Hen. Let me down apace, Uncle,
And ye shall see how like a Daw I'll whip it
From all their policies: for 'tis most certain
A Roman train: and ye must hold me sure too,
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it Uncle,
We'll be as merry—
Car. Go i'th' name of heaven, Boy.
Hen. Quick, quick, Uncle, I have it. Oh.
[Judas shoots Hengo.
Car. What ail'st thou?
Hen. O my best Uncle, I am slain.
Car. I see ye, and heaven direct my hand: destruction
[Caratach kills Judas with a stone from the rock.
Go with thy coward soul. How dost thou Boy?
Oh villain, pocky villain.
Hen. Oh Uncle, Uncle,
Oh how it pricks me: am I preserv'd for this?
Extremely pricks me.
Car. Coward, rascal Coward,
Dogs eat thy flesh.
Hen. Oh I bleed hard: I faint too, out upon't,
How sick I am! the lean Rogue, Uncle.
Car. Look Boy,
I have laid him sure enough.
Hen. Have ye knockt his brains out?
Car. I warrant thee for stirring more: cheer up, child.
Hen. Hold my sides hard, stop, stop, oh wretched fortune,
Must we part thus? Still I grow sicker, Uncle.
Car. Heaven look upon this noble child.
Hen. I once hop'd
I should have liv'd to have met these bloody Romans
At my swords point, to have reveng'd my Father,
To have beaten 'em: oh hold me hard. But Uncle—
Car. Thou shalt live still I hope Boy. Shall I draw it?
Hen. Ye draw away my soul then, I would live
A little longer; spare me heavens, but only
To thank you for your tender love. Good Uncle,
Good noble Uncle weep not.
Car. Oh my chicken,
My dear Boy, what shall I lose?
Hen. Why, a child,
That must have died however: had this scap'd me,
Feaver or famine—I was born to die, Sir.
Car. But thus unblown, my boy?
Hen. I go the straighter
My journey to the gods: Sure I shall know ye
When ye come, Uncle.
Car. Yes, Boy.
Hen. And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.
Car. Most certain, child.
Hen. I grow cold,
Mine eyes are going.
Car. Lift 'em up.
Hen. Pray for me;
And noble Uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little Nephew. Mercy.
Car. Mercy.
You blessed Angels take him.
Hen. Kiss me: so.
Farewel, farewel. [Dies.
Car. Farewel the hopes of Britain,
Thou Royal graft, Farewel for ever. Time and Death,
Ye have done your worst. Fortune now see, now proudly
Pluck off thy vail, and view thy triumph: Look
Look what thou hast brought this Land to. Oh fair flower,
How lovely yet thy ruines show, how sweetly
Even death embraces thee! The peace of heaven,
The fellowship of all great souls be with thee.
Enter Petillius and Junius on the rock.
Hah? dare ye Romans? ye shall win me bravely.
Thou art mine. [Fight.
Jun. Not yet, Sir.
Car. Breath ye, ye poor Romans,
And come up all, with all your antient valors,
Like a rough wind I'll shake your souls, and send 'em—
Enter Swetonius, and all the Roman Captains.
Swet. Yield thee bold Caratach; by all ——
As I am Soldier, as I envie thee,
I'll use thee like thy self, the valiant Britain.
Pet. Brave soldier yield; thou stock of Arms and Honor,
Thou filler of the World with Fame and Glory.
Jun. Most worthy man, we'll wooe thee, be thy prisoners.
Swet. Excellent Britain, do me but that Honor,
That more to me than Conquests, that true happiness,
To be my friend.
Car. Oh Romans, see what here is:
Had this Boy liv'd—
Swet. For Fames sake, for thy Swords sake,
As thou desirest to build thy virtues greater:
By all that's excellent in man, and honest—
Car. I do believe: Ye have had me a brave foe;
Make me a noble friend, and from your goodness,
Give this Boy honourable earth to lie in.
Swet. He shall have fitting Funeral.
Car. I yield then.
Not to your blows, but your brave courtesies.
Petill. Thus we conduct then to the arms of Peace
The wonder of the World.
Swet. Thus I embrace thee, [Flourish.
And let it be no flattery that I tell thee,
Thou art the only Soldier.
Car. How to thank ye,
I must hereafter find upon your usage.
I am for Rome.
Swet. Ye must.
Car. Then Rome shall know
The man that makes her spring of glory grow.
Swet. Petillius, you have shown much worth this day, redeem'd much error,
Ye have my love again, preserve it, Junius,
With you I make him equal in the Regiment.
Jun. The elder and the nobler: I'll give place, Sir.
Swet. Ye shew a friends soul.
March on, and through the Camp in every tongue,
The Virtues of great Caratach be sung. [Exeunt.
The Knight of the Burning Pestle.
To the Readers of this COMEDY.
Gentlemen, the World is so nice in these our times, that
for Apparel, there is no fashion, For Musick, which is a
rare Art, (though now slighted) No Instrument; For Diet,
none but the French Kickshoes that are delicate; and for Plaies,
no invention but that which now runneth an invective way,
touching some particular persons, or else it is contemned before
it is throughly understood. This is all that I have to say, That
the Author had no intent to wrong any one in this Comedy, but
as a merry passage, here and there interlaced it with delight,
which he hopes will please all, and be hurtful to none.
The PROLOGUE.
Where the Bee can suck no Honey, she leaves her sting behind;
and where the Bear cannot find Origanum to heal
his grief, he blasteth all other leaves with his breath. We fear it
is like to fare so with us; that seeing you cannot draw from our
labours sweet content, you leave behind you a sower mis-like, and
with open reproach blame our good meaning, because you cannot reap
the wonted mirth. Our intent was at this time to move inward
delight, not outward lightness; and to breed (if it might be) soft
smiling, not loud laughing: knowing it (to the wise) to be a great
pleasure, to hear Counsel mixed with Wit, as to the foolish to have
sport mingled with rudeness. They were banished the Theater of
Athens, and from Rome hissed, that brought Parasites on t[h]e
Stage with apish actions, or Fools with uncivil habits, or Courtezans
with immodest words. We have endeavoured to be as far
from unseemly speeches, to make your ears glow, as we hope you will
be free from unkind reports, or mistaking the Authors intention
(who never aimed at any one particular in this Play,) to make our
cheeks blush. And thus I leave it, and thee to thine own censure, to
like, or dislike. Vale.
The Actors Names.
- The Prologue.
- Then a Citizen.
- The Citizens wife, and Ralph her man, sitting below amidst the Spectators.
- A rich Merchant.
- Jasper his Apprentice.
- Master Humphrey, a friend to the Merchant.
- Luce, the Merchants Daughter.
- Mistress Merry-thought, Jaspers Mother.
- Michael, a second Son of Mistriss Merry-thought.
- Old M. Merry-thought.
- A Squire.
- A Dwarfe.
- A Tapster.
- A Boy that Danceth and Singeth.
- An Host.
- A Barber.
- Two Knights.
- A Captain.
- A Sergeant.
- Soldiers.
Enter Prologue.
From all that's near the Court, from all that's great
Within the compass of the City-walls
We now have brought our Scene.
Enter Citizen.
Cit. Hold your peace good-man boy.
Pro. What do you mean Sir?
Cit. That you have no good meaning: These seven years
there hath been Plays at this House, I have observed it, you
have still girds at Citizens; and now you call your Play The
London Merchant. Down with your Title, Boy, down with
your Title.
Pro. Are you a member of the noble City?
Cit. I am.
Pro. And a Free-man?
Cit. Yea, and a Grocer.
Pro. So Grocer, then by your swe[e]t favour, we intend
no abuse to the City.
Cit. No sir,
Yes sir,
If you were not resolv'd to play the Jacks,
What need you study for new subjects,
Purposely to abuse your betters?
Why could not you be contented,
As well as others,
With the Legend of Whittington,
Or the life and death of Sir Thomas Gresham?
With the building of the Royal Exchange?
Or the storie of Queen Elenor,
With the rearing of London bridge upon Woollsacks?
Pro. You seem to be an understanding man:
What would you have us do sir?
Cit. Why?
Present something notably
In honor of the Commons of the City.
Pro. Why,
What do you say, to the life and death of fat Drake,
Or the repairing of Fleet Privies?
Cit. I do not like that,
But I will have a Citizen,
And he shall be of my own Trade.
Pro. Oh,
You should have told us your mind
A month since,
Our Play is ready to begin now.
Cit. 'Tis all one for that,
I will have a Grocer,
And he shall do admirable things.
Pro. What will you have him do?
Cit. Marry I will have him—
Wife. Husband, Husband.
Wife below, Ralph below.
Ralph. Peace, Mistriss.
Wife. Hold thy peace Ralph,
I know what I do,
I warrant ye.
Husband, Husband.
Cit. What say'st thou Conie?
Wife. Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle Husband,
Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle.
Cit. So he shall,
I'll have him kill a Lion with a pestle.
Wife. Husband,
Shall I come up Husband?
Cit. I Cony.
Ralph, help your Mistriss this way:
Pray Gentlemen make her a little room,
I pray you sir
Lend me your hand to help up my Wife:
I thank you sir.
So.
Wife. By your leave Gentlemen all,
I'm something troublesome,
I'm a stranger here,
I was ne'r at one of these Plays, [a]s they say, before;
But I should have seen Jane Shore once,
And my Husband
Hath promised me any time this Twelvemonth,
To carrie me to the Bold Beauchams,
But in truth he did not;
I pray you bear with me.
Cit. Boy,
Let my Wife and I have a couple of stools,
And then begin,
And let the Grocer do rare things.
Pro. But sir,
We have never a Boy to play him,
Every one hath a part already.
Wife. Husband, Husband,
For gods sake let Ralph play him,
Beshrew me if I do not think
He will go beyond them all.
Cit. Well remembred wife,
Come up Ralph,
I'll tell you Gentlemen,
Let them but lend him a suit of reparrel,
and necessaries,
And by gad,
If any of them all blow wind in the tail on him,
I'll be hang'd.
Wife. I pray you youth,
Let him have a suit of reparrel,
I'll be sworn Gentlemen,
My Husband tells you true,
He will act you sometimes at our house,
That all the neighbors cry out on him:
He will fetch you up a couraging part so in the Garret,
That we are all as fear'd I warrant you,
That we quake again:
We'll fear our children with him,
If they be never so unruly,
Do but cry,
Ralph comes, Ralph comes to them,
And they'll be as quiet as Lambs.
Hold up thy head Ralph,
Shew the Gentlemen what thou canst do,
Speak a huffing part,
I warrant you the Gentlemen will accept of it.
Cit. Do Ralph, do.
Ralph. By heaven
(Methinks) it were an easie leap
To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac'd Moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the Sea,
Where never fathome line toucht any ground,
And pluck up drowned honor
From the lake of Hell.
Cit. How say you Gentlemen,
Is it not as I told you?
Wife. Nay Gentlemen,
He hath plaid before, my husband says, Musidorus
Before the Wardens of our company.
Cit. I, and he should have plaid Jeronimo
With a shoo-maker for a wager.
Pro. He shall have a suit of apparel,
If he will go in.
Cit. In Ralph, in Ralph,
And set out the Grocer[y] in their kind,
If thou lov'st me.
Wife. I warrant our Ralph will look finely,
When he's drest.
Pro. But what will you have it call'd?
Pro. Methinks The Knight of the b[u]rning Pestle were better.
Wife. I'll be sworn Husband.
That's as good a name as can be.
Cit. Let it be so, begin, begin;
My Wife and I will sit down.
Pro. I pray you do.
Cit. What stately Musick have you?
You have Shawnes.
Pro. Shawns? no.
Cit. No?
I'm a thief if my mind did not give me so.
Ralph plaies a stately part,
And he must needs have Shawns:
I'll be at the charge of them my self,
Rather than we'll be without them.
Pro. So you are like to be.
Cit. Why and so I will be,
There's two shillings,
Let's have the Waits of Southwark,
They are as rare fellows as any are in England;
And that will fetch them all o'r the water, with a vengeance,
As if they were mad.
Pro. You shall have them:
Will you sit down then?
Cit. I, come Wife.
Wife. Sit you merry all Gentlemen,
I'm bold to sit amongst you for my ease.
Pro. From all that's near the Court,
From all that's great
Within the compass of the City walls,
We now have brought our Scæne:
Flie far from hence
All private taxes, immodest phrases,
What e'r may but shew like vicious:
For wicked mirth never true pleasure brings,
But honest minds are pleas'd with honest things.
Thus much for that we do:
But for Ralphs part
You must answer for your self.
Cit. Take you no care for Ralph,
He'll discharge himself I warrant you.
Wife. I'faith Gentlemen,
I'll give [my] word for Ralph.
Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Merchant and Jasper his Man.
Merch. Sirrah, I'll make you know you are my Prentice,
And whom my charitable love redeem'd
Even from the fall of fortune; gave thee heat
And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee,
Adding the trust of all I have at home,
In forreign Staples, or upon the Sea
To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions
Both of [my]self and friends to thy endeavors,
So fair were thy beginnings: but with these
As I remember you had never charge,
To love your Masters Daughter, and even then,
When I had found a wealthy Husband for her,
I take it, Sir, you had not: but however,
I'll break the neck of that Commission,
And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor.
Jasp. Sir,
I do liberally confess I am yours,
Bound both by love and duty to your service;
In which my labor hath been all my profit;
I have not lost in bargain, nor delighted
To wear your honest gains upon my back,
Nor have I given a pension to my bloud,
Or lavishly in play consum'd your stock.
These, and the miseries that do attend them,
I dare with innocence, proclaim are strangers
To all my temperate actions: for your Daughter,
If there be any love to my deservings,
Born by her virtuous self, I cannot stop it:
Nor am I able to refrain her wishes.
She's private to her self, and best of knowledge,
Whom she'll make so happy as to sigh for.
Besides, I cannot think you mean to match her,
Unto a fellow of so lame a presence,
One that hath little left of Nature in him.
Mer. 'Tis very well, Sir, I can tell your wisdom
How all this shall be cur'd.
Jasp. Your care becomes you.
Merc. And thus it shall be, Sir, I here discharge you,
My house, and service, take your liberty,
And when I want a Son I'll send for you. [Exit.
Jasp. These be the fair rewards of them that love,
Oh you that live in freedom never prove
The travel of a mind led by desire.
Enter Luce.
Luce. Why how now friend, struck with my Fathers thunder?
Jasp. Struck, and struck dead, unless the remedy
Be full of speed and virtue; I am now,
What I expected long, no more your father's.
Luce. But mine.
Jasp. But yours, and only yours I am,
That's all I have to keep me from the statute:
You dare be constant still?
Luce. O fear me not.
In this I dare be better than a woman.
Nor shall his anger, nor his offers move me,
Were they both equal to a Princes power.
Jasp. You know my Rival?
Luce. Yes, and love him dearly,
Even as I love an ague, or foul weather,
I prethee Jasper fear him not.
Jasp. Oh no,
I do not mean to do him so much kindness,
But to our own desires you know the plot
We both agreed on.
Luce. Yes, and will perform
My part exactly.
Jasp. I desire no more,
Farewel, and keep my heart, 'tis yours.
Luce. I take it,
He must do miracles,
Makes me forsake it. [Exeunt.
Cit. Fie upon 'em little infidels,
What a matter's here now?
Well, I'll be hang'd for a half-penny,
If there be not some abomination knavery in this Play,
Well, let 'em look to't,
Ralph must come,
And if there be any tricks a brewing—
Wife. Let 'em brew and bake too Husband, a gods name,
Ralph will find all out I warrant you,
And they were older than they are.
I pray my pretty youth, is Ralph ready?
Boy. He will be presently.
Wife. Now I pray you make my commendations unto him,
And withal, carry him this stick of Licoras,
Tell him his Mistriss sent it him,
And bid him bite apiece,
'Twill open his pipes the better, say.
Enter Merchant, and Master Humphrey.
Mer. Come, Sir, she's yours, upon my faith she's yours,
You have my hand, for other idle letts
Between your hopes and her, thus, with a wind,
They are scattered, and no more: my wanton Prentice,
That like a bladder blew himself with love,
I have lett out, and sent him to discover
New masters yet unknown.
Humph. I thank you Sir,
Indeed I thank you, Sir, and e'r I stir,
It shall be known however you do deem,
I am of gentle blood and gentle seem.
Mer. Oh Sir, I know it certain.
Hum. Sir, my friend,
Although as Writers say, all things have end,
And that we call a Pudding, hath his two,
Oh let it not seem strange I pray to you,
If in this bloudy simile, I put
My love, more endless, than frail things or gut.
Wife. Husband,
I prethee sweet lamb tell me one thing,
But tell me truly:
Stay youths I beseech you,
Till I question my Husband.
Cit. What is it Mouse?
Wife. Sirrah,
Didst thou ever see a prettier child?
How it behaves it self, I warrant ye:
And speaks and looks, and pearts up the head?
I pray you brother with your favour,
Were you never none of Mr. Moncasters Scholars?
Cit. Chickin,
I prethee heartily contain thy self,
The childer are pretty childer,
But when Ralph comes, Lamb.
Wife. I when Ralph comes, Conie,
Well my youth you may proceed.
M[e]r. Well Sir, you know my love, and rest, I hope
Assur'd of my consent; get but my daughters,
And wed her when you please: you must be bold,
And clap in close unto her, come, I know
You have language good enough to win a wench.
Wife. A whoresone tyrant,
Hath been an old stringer in his days,
I warrant him.
Hum. I take your gentle offer, and withal
Yield love again for love reciprocal.
Enter Luce.