[53] Wife.
[54] Collier compares Nashe’s Summer’s Last Will, &c.:—“Our vintage was a vintage, for it did not work upon the advantage.”
SCENE II.
An inn-yard.
Enter a Coachman in haste, in his frock, feeding.
Co. Here’s a stir when citizens ride out of town, indeed as if all the house were a-fire! ’Slight! they will not give a man leave to eat’s breakfast afore he rises.
Enter Hamlet, a footman, in haste.
Ha. What, coachman—my lady’s coach! for shame! her ladyship’s ready to come down.
Enter Potkin, a tankard-bearer.
Po. ’Sfoot! Hamlet, are you mad?[55] Whither run you now? you should brush up my old mistress!
Enter Sindefy.
Si. What, Potkin?—you must put off your tankard and put on your blue coat,[56] and wait upon Mistress Touchstone into the country.
[Exit.
Po. I will, forsooth, presently.
[Exit.
Enter Mistress Fond and Mistress Gazer.
Fo. Come, sweet Mistress Gazer, let’s watch here, and see my Lady Flash take coach. 13
Ga. O’ my word here’s a most fine place to stand in; did you see the new ship launched last day, Mistress Fond?
Fo. O God! and we citizens should lose such a sight!
Ga. I warrant here will be double as many people to see her take coach as there were to see it take water.
Fo. O she’s married to a most fine castle i’ th’ country, they say. 21
Ga. But there are no giants in the castle, are there?
Fo. O no: they say her knight killed ’hem all, and therefore he was knighted.
Ga. Would to God her ladyship would come away!
Enter Gertrude, Mistress Touchstone, Sindefy, Hamlet, Potkin.
Fo. She comes, she comes, she comes!
Ga. and Fo. Pray heaven bless your ladyship!
Ge. Thank you, good people. My coach, for the love of heaven, my coach! In good truth I shall swoon else.
Ha. Coach, coach, my lady’s coach!
[Exit.
Ge. As I am a lady, I think I am with child already, I long for a coach so. May one be with child afore they are married, mother? 33
Mist. T. Ay, by’r lady, madam; a little thing does that; I have seen a little prick no bigger than a pin’s head swell bigger and bigger, till it has come to an ancome;[57] and e’en so ’tis in these cases.
Enter Hamlet.
Ha. Your coach is coming, madam.
Ge. That’s well said. Now, heaven! methinks I am e’en up to the knees in preferment. 40
But a little higher, but a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, there lies Cupid’s fire!
Mist. T. But must this young man, an’t please you, madam, run by your coach all the way a-foot?
Ge. Ay, by my faith, I warrant him; he gives no other milk, as I have another servant does.
Mist. T. Alas! ’tis e’en pity, methinks; for God’s sake, madam, buy him but a hobby-horse; let the poor youth have something betwixt his legs to ease ’hem. Alas! we must do as we would be done to. 50
Ge. Go to, hold your peace, dame; you talk like an old fool, I tell you!
Enter Sir Petronel and Quicksilver.
Pe. Wilt thou be gone, sweet honey-suckle, before I can go with thee?
Ge. I pray thee, sweet knight, let me; I do so long to dress up thy castle afore thou comest. But I marle how my modest sister occupies herself this morning, that she cannot wait on me to my coach, as well as her mother.
Qu. Marry, madam, she’s married by this time to prentice Golding. Your father, and some one more, stole to church with ’hem in all the haste, that the cold meat left at your wedding might serve to furnish their nuptial table. 63
Ge. There’s no base fellow, my father, now; but he’s e’en fit to father such a daughter: he must call me daughter no more now: but “madam,” and “please you, madam;” and “please your worship, madam,” indeed. Out upon him! marry his daughter to a base prentice!
Mist. T. What should one do? Is there no law for one that marries a woman’s daughter against her will? How shall we punish him, madam? 71
Ge. As I am a lady, an’t would snow, we’d so pebble ’hem with snow-balls as they come from church; but, sirrah Frank Quicksilver.
Qu. Ay, madam.
Ge. Dost remember since thou and I clapt what-d’ye-call’ts in the garret?
Qu. I know not what you mean, madam.
Ge.
His[58] head as white as milk, all flaxen was his hair;
But now he is dead, and laid in his bed, 80
And never will come again.
God be at your labour!
Enter Touchstone, Golding, Mildred, with rosemary.[59]
Pe. Was there ever such a lady?
Qu. See, madam, the bride and bridegroom!
Ge. God’s my precious! God give you joy, mistress. What lack you? Now out upon thee, baggage! My sister married in a taffeta hat! Marry, hang you! Westward with a wanion[60] t’ye! Nay, I have done wi’ ye, minion, then, i’faith; never look to have my countenance any more, nor anything I can do for thee. Thou ride in my coach, or come down to my castle! fie upon thee! I charge thee in my ladyship’s name, call me sister no more. 93
To. An’t please your worship, this is not your sister: this is my daughter, and she calls me father, and so does not your ladyship, an’t please your worship, madam.
Mist. T. No, nor she must not call thee father by heraldry, because thou makest thy prentice thy son as well as she. Ah! thou misproud prentice, darest thou presume to marry a lady’s sister? 100
Go. It pleased my master, forsooth, to embolden me with his favour; and though I confess myself far unworthy so worthy a wife (being in part her servant, as I am your prentice) yet (since I may say it without boasting) I am born a gentleman, and by the trade I have learned of my master (which I trust taints not my blood), able, with mine own industry and portion, to maintain your daughter, my hope is, heaven will so bless our humble beginning, that in the end I shall be no disgrace to the grace with which my master has bound me his double prentice. 111
To. Master me no more, son, if thou think’st me worthy to be thy father.
Ge. Son! Now, good Lord, how he shines! and you mark him, he’s a gentleman!
Go. Ay, indeed, madam, a gentleman born.
Pe. Never stand o’ your gentry, Master Bridegroom; if your legs be no better than your arms, you’ll be able to stand upright on neither shortly. 119
To. An’t please your good worship, sir, there are two sorts of gentlemen.
Pe. What mean you, sir?
To. Bold to put off my hat to your worship——
Pe. Nay, pray forbear, sir, and then forth with your two sorts of gentlemen.
To. If your worship will have it so, I say there are two sorts of gentlemen. There is a gentleman artificial, and a gentleman natural. Now though your worship be a gentleman natural: work upon that now. 129
Qu. Well said, old Touchstone; I am proud to hear thee enter a set speech, i’faith; forth, I beseech thee.
To. Cry your mercy, sir, your worship’s a gentleman I do not know. If you be one of my acquaintance, y’are very much disguised, sir.
Qu. Go to, old quipper; forth with thy speech, I say. 137
To. What, sir, my speeches were ever in vain to your gracious worship; and therefore, till I speak to you gallantry indeed, I will save my breath for my broth anon. Come, my poor son and daughter, let us hide ourselves in our poor humility, and live safe. Ambition consumes itself with the very show. Work upon that now.
Ge. Let him go, let him go, for God’s sake! let him make his prentice his son, for God’s sake! give away his daughter, for God’s sake! and when they come a-begging to us for God’s sake, let’s laugh at their good husbandry for God’s sake. Farewell, sweet knight, pray thee make haste after. 149
Pe. What shall I say?—I would not have thee go.
Qu.
Now,[61] O now, I must depart,
Parting though it absence move.
This ditty, knight, do I see in thy looks in capital letters.
What a grief ’tis to depart, and leave the flower that has my heart!
My sweet lady, and alack for woe, why, should we part so?
Tell truth, knight, and shame all dissembling lovers; does not your pain lie on that side? 158
Pe. If it do, canst thou tell me how I may cure it?
Qu. Excellent easily. Divide yourself in two halves, just by the girdlestead; send one half with your lady, and keep t’other yourself; or else do as all true lovers do—part with your heart, and leave your body behind. I have seen’t done a hundred times: ’tis as easy a matter for a lover to part without a heart from his sweetheart, and he ne’er the worse, as for a mouse to get from a trap and leave her [sic] tail behind him. See, here comes the writings. 168
Enter Security with a Scrivener.
Sec. Good morrow to my worshipful lady. I present your ladyship with this writing, to which if you please to set your hand with your knight’s, a velvet gown shall attend your journey, o’ my credit.
Ge. What writing is it, knight?
Pe. The sale, sweetheart, of the poor tenement I told thee of, only to make a little money to send thee down furniture for my castle, to which my hand shall lead thee.
Ge. Very well. Now give me your pen, I pray.
Qu. It goes down without chewing, i’faith.
Scr. Your worships deliver this as your deed? 180
Ambo. We do.
Ge. So now, knight, farewell till I see thee.
Pe. All farewell to my sweetheart!
Mist. T. God-b’w’y’, son knight.
Pe. Farewell, my good mother.
Ge. Farewell, Frank; I would fain take thee down if I could.
Qu. I thank your good ladyship; farewell, Mistress Sindefy.
[Exeunt.
Pe. O tedious voyage, whereof there is no end! What will they think of me? 191
Qu. Think what they list. They longed for a vagary into the country, and now they are fitted. So a woman marry to ride in a coach, she cares not if she ride to her ruin. ’Tis the great end of many of their marriages. This is not the first time a lady has rid a false journey in her coach, I hope.
Pe. Nay, ’tis no matter, I care little what they think; he that weighs men’s thoughts has his hands full of nothing. A man, in the course of this world, should be like a surgeon’s instrument—work in the wounds of others, and feel nothing himself. The sharper and subtler, the better. 203
Qu. As it falls out now, knight, you shall not need to devise excuses, or endure her outcries, when she returns; we shall now begone before, where they cannot reach us.
Pe. Well, my kind compeer, you have now the assurance we both can make you; let me now entreat you, the money we agreed on may be brought to the Blue Anchor, near to Billingsgate, by six o’clock; where I and my chief friends, bound for this voyage, will with feasts attend you. 213
Sec. The money, my most honourable compeer, shall without fail observe your appointed hour.
Pe.
Thanks, my dear gossip. I must now impart
To your approved love, a loving secret;
As one on whom my life doth more rely
In friendly trust than any man alive.
Nor shall you be the chosen secretary 220
Of my affections for affection only:
For I protest (if God bless my return)
To make you partner in my actions’ gain
As deeply as if you had ventured with me
Half my expenses. Know then, honest gossip,
I have enjoy’d with such divine contentment
A gentlewoman’s bed whom you well know,
That I shall ne’er enjoy this tedious voyage,
Nor live the least part of the time it asketh,
Without her presence; so I thirst and hunger 230
To taste the dear feast of her company.
And if the hunger and the thirst you vow
As my sworn gossip, to my wishèd good
Be, as I know it is, unfeign’d and firm,
Do me an easy favour in your power.
Sec.
Be sure, brave gossip, all that I can do,
To my best nerve, is wholly at your service:
Who is the woman, first, that is your friend?
Pe.
The woman is your learned counsel’s wife,
The lawyer, Master Bramble; whom would you 240
Bring out this even in honest neighbourhood,
To take his leave with you, of me your gossip,
I, in the meantime, will send this my friend
Home to his house, to bring his wife disguised,
Before his face, into our company;
For love hath made her look for such a wile,
To free her from his tyrannous jealousy.
And I would take this course before another,
In stealing her away to make us sport,
And gull his circumspection the more grossly; 250
And I am sure that no man like yourself
Hath credit with him to entice his jealousy
To so long stay abroad as may give time
To her enlargement, in such safe disguise.
Sec.
A pretty, pithy, and most pleasant project!
Who would not strain a point of neighbourhood
For such a point device? that as the ship[62]
Of famous Draco went about the world,
Will wind about the lawyer, compassing
The world himself; he hath it in his arms, 260
And that’s enough for him, without his wife.
A lawyer is ambitious, and his head
Cannot be praised nor raised too high,
With any fork of highest knavery.
I’ll go fetch her straight.
[Exit Security.
Pe.
So, so. Now, Frank, go thou home to his house,
’Stead of his lawyer’s, and bring his wife hither,
Who, just like to the lawyer’s wife, is prison’d
With his[63] stern usurous jealousy, which could never
Be over-reach’d thus but with over-reaching. 270
Sec.
And, Master Francis, watch you th’ instant time
To enter with his exit: ’twill be rare,
Two fine horn’d beasts!—a camel and a lawyer!
Qu. How the old villain joys in villainy!
Sec.
And hark you, gossip, when you have her here,
Have your boat ready, ship her to your ship
With utmost haste, lest Master Bramble stay you.
To o’er-reach that head that out-reacheth all heads,
’Tis a trick rampant!—’tis a very quiblin![64]
I hope this harvest to pitch cart with lawyers, 280
Their heads will be so forked. This sly touch
Will get apes to invent a number such.
[Exit.
Qu.
Was ever rascal honey’d so with poison?
He that delights in slavish avarice,
Is apt to joy in every sort of vice.
Well, I’ll go fetch his wife, whilst he the lawyer’s.
Pe. But stay, Frank, let’s think how we may disguise her upon this sudden. 288
Qu. God’s me! there’s the mischief! But hark you, here’s an excellent device: ’fore God, a rare one! I will carry her a sailor’s gown and cap, and cover her, and a player’s beard.
Pe. And what upon her head?
Qu. I tell you, a sailor’s cap! ’Slight, God forgive me! what kind of figent[65] memory have you?
Pe.
Nay, then, what kind of figent wit hast thou?
A sailor’s cap?—how shall she put it off
When thou present’st her to our company?
Qu. Tush, man, for that, make her a saucy sailor. 299
Pe.
Tush, tush! ’tis no fit sauce for such sweet mutton,
I know not what t’ advise.
Re-enter Security with his wife’s gown.
Sec. Knight, knight, a rare device!
Pe. ’Swounds, yet again!
Qu. What stratagem have you now?
Sec. The best that ever. You talk of disguising?
Pe. Ay, marry, gossip, that’s our present care.
Sec.
Cast care away then; here’s the best device
For plain Security (for I am no better)
I think, that ever lived: here’s my wife’s gown,
Which you may put upon the lawyer’s wife, 310
And which I brought you, sir, for two great reasons;
One is, that Master Bramble may take hold
Of some suspicion that it is my wife,
And gird me so perhaps with his law-wit;
The other (which is policy indeed)
Is, that my wife may now be tied at home,
Having no more but her old gown abroad,
And not show me a quirk, while I firk others.
Is not this rare?
Ambo. The best that ever was.
Sec. Am I not born to furnish gentlemen? 320
Pe. O my dear gossip!
Sec. Well hold, Master Francis; watch when the lawyer’s out, and put it in. And now I will go fetch him.
[Exit.
Qu. O my dad! he goes as ’twere the devil to fetch the lawyer; and devil shall he be, if horns will make him.
Pe. Why, how now, gossip? why stay you there musing?
Sec. A toy, a toy runs in my head, i’faith. 330
Qu. A pox of that head! is there more toys yet?
Pe. What is it, pray thee, gossip?
Sec. Why, sir, what if you should slip away now with my wife’s best gown, I having no security for it?
Qu. For that I hope, dad, you will take our words.
Sec.
Ay, by th’ mass, your word—that’s a proper staff
For wise Security to lean upon!
But ’tis no matter, once I’ll trust my name
On your crack’d credits; let it take no shame.
Fetch the wench, Frank.
[Exit.
Qu.
I’ll wait upon you, sir, 340
And fetch you over, you were ne’er so fetch’d.
Go to the tavern, knight; your followers
Dare not be drunk, I think, before their captain.
[Exit.
Pe.
Would I might lead them to no hotter service
Till our Virginian gold were in our purses!
[Exit.
[55] One of many allusions that show the early popularity of Shakespeare’s play.
[56] “Blue coat”—the livery of a serving-man.
[57] Ulcerous swelling.
[58] A variation of the snatch sung by Ophelia.
[59] The herb of remembrance, used at weddings and funerals.
[60] “With a wanion,”—with a plague!
[61]
A misquotation from a song in John Dowland’s First Book
of Songs or Airs (1597):—
“Now, O now, I needs must part,
Parting though I absent mourn,” &c.
[62] Sir Francis Drake’s ship, in which he sailed round the world. By order of Queen Elizabeth it was laid up at Deptford, whither it attracted many sightseers. See Nares’ Glossary.
[63] “Both the quartos [there is only one] have it ‘With eyes stern usurous jealousy,’ which may be right, though the sense is rather forced.”—Collier. The copy that lies before me gives, “With his sterne vsurous Ielosie.”
[64] Device, trick.—In The Insatiate Countess, ii. 3, we have the word “whiblin” used in the same sense.
[65] Fidgetty, volatile.
The Blue Anchor, Billingsgate.
Enter Seagull, Spendall, and Scapethrift, in the Tavern, with a Drawer.
Sea. Come, drawer, pierce your neatest hogsheads, and let’s have cheer—not fit for your Billingsgate tavern, but for our Virginian colonel; he will be here instantly.
Dr. You shall have all things fit, sir; please you have any more wine?
Sp. More wine, slave! whether we drink it or no, spill it, and draw more.
Sea. Fill all the pots in your house with all sorts of liquor, and let ’hem wait on us here like soldiers in their pewter coats; and though we do not employ them now, yet we will maintain ’hem till we do. 12
Dr. Said like an honourable captain; you shall have all you can command, sir.
[Exit Drawer.
Sea. Come, boys, Virginia longs till we share the rest of her maidenhead.
Sp. Why, is she inhabited already with any English?
Sea. A whole country of English is there, man, bred of those that were left there in ’79;[66] they have married with the Indians, and make ’hem bring forth as beautiful faces as any we have in England; and therefore the Indians are so in love with ’hem, that all the treasure they have they lay at their feet. 23
Sca. But is there such treasure there, captain, as I have heard?
Sea. I tell thee, gold is more plentiful there than copper is with us; and for as much red copper as I can bring, I’ll have thrice the weight in gold. Why, man, all their dripping-pans and their chamber-pots are pure gold; and all the chains with which they chain up their streets are massy gold; all the prisoners they take are fettered in gold; and for rubies and diamonds, they go forth on holidays and gather ’hem by the seashore, to hang on their children’s coats, and stick in their caps, as commonly as our children wear saffron-gilt brooches and groats with holes in ’hem. 36
Sca. And is it a pleasant country withal?
Sea. As ever the sun shined on; temperate and full of all sorts of excellent viands: wild boar is as common there as our tamest bacon is here; venison as mutton. And then you shall live freely there, without sergeants, or courtiers, or lawyers, or intelligencers, only[67] a few industrious Scots, perhaps, who indeed are dispersed over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there are no greater friends to Englishmen and England, when they are out on’t, in the world, than they are. And for my part, I would a hundred thousand of ’hem were there, for we are all one countrymen now, ye know, and we should find ten times more comfort of them there than we do here. Then for your means to advancement, there it is simple, and not preposterously mixed. You may be an alderman there, and never be scavenger: you may be a nobleman, and never be a slave. You may come to preferment enough, and never be a pander; to riches and fortune enough, and have never the more villainy nor the less wit. Besides,[68] there we shall have no more law than conscience, and not too much of either; serve God enough, eat and drink enough, and enough is as good as a feast. 59
Sp. God’s me! and how far is it thither?
Sea. Some six weeks’ sail, no more, with any indifferent good wind. And if I get to any part of the coast of Africa, I’ll sail thither with any wind; or when I come to Cape Finisterre, there’s a foreright wind continually wafts us till we come at Virginia. See, our colonel’s come. 66
Enter Sir Petronel with his followers.
Pe. Well met, good Captain Seagull, and my noble gentlemen! Now the sweet hour of our freedom is at hand. Come, drawer, fill us some carouses, and prepare us for the mirth that will be occasioned presently. Here will be a pretty wench, gentlemen, that will bear us company all our voyage.
Sea. Whatsoever she be, here’s to her health, noble colonel, both with cap and knee.
Pe. Thanks, kind Captain Seagull, she’s one I love dearly, and must not be known till we be free from all that know us. And so, gentlemen, here’s to her health. 78
Ambo. Let it come, worthy colonel; we do hunger and thirst for it.
Pe. Afore heaven! you have hit the phrase of one that her presence will touch from the foot to the forehead, if ye knew it.
Sp. Why, then, we will join his forehead with her health, sir; and Captain Scapethrift, here’s to ’hem both.
Enter Security and Bramble.
Sec. See, see, Master Bramble, ’fore heaven! their voyage cannot but prosper; they are o’ their knees for success to it!
Br. And they pray to god Bacchus. 90
Sec. God save my brave colonel, with all his tall captains and corporals. See, sir, my worshipful learned counsel, Master Bramble, is come to take his leave of you.
Pe. Worshipful Master Bramble, how far do you draw us into the sweet-briar of your kindness! Come, Captain Seagull, another health to this rare Bramble, that hath never a prick about him.
Sea. I pledge his most smooth disposition, sir. Come, Master Security, bend your supporters, and pledge this notorious health here. 101
Sec. Bend you yours likewise, Master Bramble; for it is you shall pledge me.
Sea. Not so, Master Security; he must not pledge his own health.
Sec. No, Master Captain?
Enter Quicksilver with Winny disguised.
Why, then, here’s one is fitly come to do him that honour.
Qu. Here’s the gentlewoman your cousin, sir, whom, with much entreaty, I have brought to take her leave of you in a tavern; ashamed whereof, you must pardon her if she put not off her mask. 112
Pe. Pardon me, sweet cousin; my kind desire to see you before I went, made me so importunate to entreat your presence here.
Sec. How now, Master Francis? have you honoured this presence with a fair gentlewoman?
Qu. Pray, sir, take you no notice of her, for she will not be known to you.
Sec. But my learned counsel, Master Bramble here, I hope he may know her. 121
Qu. No more than you, sir, at this time; his learning must pardon her.
Sec. Well, God pardon her for my part, and I do, I’ll be sworn; and so, Master Francis, here’s to all that are going eastward to-night towards Cuckold’s Haven;[69] and so to the health of Master Bramble.
Qu. I pledge it, sir. Hath it gone round, Captain?
Sea. It has, sweet Frank; and the round closes with thee. 130
Qu. Well, sir, here’s to all eastward and toward cuckolds, and so to famous Cuckold’s Haven, so fatally remembered.
[Surgit.
Pe. Nay, pray thee, coz, weep not; gossip Security.
Sec. Ay, my brave gossip.
Pe. A word, I beseech you, sir. Our friend, Mistress Bramble here, is so dissolved in tears, that she drowns the whole mirth of our meeting. Sweet gossip, take her aside and comfort her. 139
Sec. Pity of all true love, Mistress Bramble; what, weep you to enjoy your love? What’s the cause, lady? Is’t because your husband is so near, and your heart yearns to have a little abused him? Alas, alas! the offence is too common to be respected. So great a grace hath seldom chanced to so unthankful a woman, to be rid of an old jealous dotard, to enjoy the arms of a loving young knight, that when your prickless Bramble is withered with grief of your loss, will make you flourish afresh in the bed of a lady. 149
Enter Drawer.
Dr. Sir Petronel, here’s one of your watermen come to tell you it will be flood these three hours; and that ’twill be dangerous going against the tide, for the sky is overcast, and there was a porcpisce[70] even now seen at London Bridge, which is always the messenger of tempests, he says.
Pe. A porcpisce!—what’s that to th’ purpose? Charge him, if he love his life, to attend us; can we not reach Blackwall (where my ship lies) against the tide, and in spite of tempests? Captains and gentlemen, we’ll begin a new ceremony at the beginning of our voyage, which I believe will be followed of all future adventurers. 161
Sea. What’s that, good colonel?
Pe. This, Captain Seagull. We’ll have our provided supper brought aboard Sir Francis Drake’s ship,[71] that hath compassed the world; where, with full cups and banquets, we will do sacrifice for a prosperous voyage. My mind gives me that some good spirits of the waters should haunt the desert ribs of her, and be auspicious to all that honour her memory, and will with like orgies enter their voyages. 170
Sea. Rarely conceited! One health more to this motion, and aboard to perform it. He that will not this night be drunk, may he never be sober.
[They compass in Winifred, dance the drunken round, and drink carouses.
Br. Sir Petronel and his honourable captains, in these young services we old servitors may be spared. We only came to take our leaves, and with one health to you all, I’ll be bold to do so. Here, neighbour Security, to the health of Sir Petronel, and all his captains.
Sec. You must bend then, Master Bramble; so now I am for you. I have one corner of my brain, I hope, fit to bear one carouse more. Here, lady, to you that are encompassed there, and are ashamed of our company. Ha, ha, ha! by my troth, my learned counsel, Master Bramble, my mind runs so of Cuckold’s Haven to-night, that my head runs over with admiration. 186
Br. But is not that your wife, neighbour?
Sec. No, by my troth, Master Bramble. Ha, ha, ha! A pox of all Cuckold’s Havens, I say!
Br. O’ my faith, her garments are exceeding like your wife’s.
Sec. Cucullus non facit monachum, my learned counsel; all are not cuckolds that seem so, nor all seem not that are so. Give me your hand, my learned counsel; you and I will sup somewhere else than at Sir Francis Drake’s ship to-night. Adieu, my noble gossip.
Br. Good fortune, brave captains; fair skies God send ye!
Omnes. Farewell, my hearts, farewell! 199
Pe. Gossip, laugh no more at Cuckold’s Haven, gossip.
Sec. I have done, I have done, sir; will you lead, Master Bramble? Ha, ha, ha!
Pe. Captain Seagull, charge a boat.
Omnes. A boat, a boat, a boat!
[Exeunt all but Drawer.
Dr. Y’are in a proper taking indeed, to take a boat, especially at this time of night, and against tide and tempest. They say yet, “drunken men never take harm.” This night will try the truth of that proverb. 208
[Exit.