A FAIR QUARREL.

A Faire Quarrell. As it was Acted before the King and diuers times publikely by the Prince his Highnes Seruants. Written

{ By Thomas Midleton
and William Rowley.} Gentl.

Printed at London for I. T. and are to bee sold at Christ Church Gate. 1617. 4to.

During the same year copies were put forth with a fresh title-page,—A Faire Quarrell. With new Additions of Mr. Chaughs and Trimtram’s Roaring, and the Bauds Song. Neuer before Printed, &c.; these “new additions” being contained in three leaves, which the binder is desired to place “at the latter end of the fourth Act.” Another edition appeared in 1622, 4to.

On the title-page of the 4tos is a woodcut representing the Colonel and the Captain in combat, which has been copied into Strutt’s Dress and Habits, &c., Plate cxxxix.

Langbaine says, “The Plot of Fitz-allen, Russel, and Jane, is founded, as I suppose, on some Italian Novel, and may be read in English in the Complaisant Companion, octavo, p. 280. That part of the Physitian tempting Jane, and then accusing her, is founded on a Novel of Cynthio Giraldi: See Dec. 4. Nov. 5.” Acc. of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 372.

TO THE
NOBLY DISPOSED, VIRTUOUS, AND FAITHFUL-BREASTED
ROBERT GREY, Esquire,
ONE OF THE GROOMS OF HIS HIGHNESS’ BED-CHAMBER,
His poor well-willer wisheth his best wishes, hic et supra.

Worthy Sir,

’Tis but a play, and a play is but a butt, against which many shoot many arrows of envy; ’tis the weaker part, and how much more noble shall it be in you to defend it: yet if it be (as some philosophers have left behind 'em), that this megacosm, this great world, is no more than a stage, where every one must act his part, you shall of necessity have many partakers, some long, some short, some indifferent, all some; whilst indeed the players themselves have the least part of it, for I know few that have lands (which are a part of the world), and therefore no grounded men; but howsoever they serve for mutes, happily they must wear good clothes for attendance, yet all have exits, and must all be stript in the tiring-house (viz. the grave), for none must carry any thing out of the stock. You see, sir, I write as I speak, and I speak as I am, and that’s excuse enough for me. I did not mean to write an epistle of praise to you; it looks so like a thing I know you love not, flattery, which you exceedingly hate actively, and unpleasingly accept passively: indeed, I meant to tell you your own, that is, that this child of the Muses is yours; whoever begat it, ’tis laid to your charge, and, for aught I know, you must father and keep it too: if it please you, I hope you shall not be ashamed of it neither, for it has been seen, though I say it, in good companies, and many have said it is a handsome, pretty-spoken infant. Now be your own judge; at your leisure look on it, at your pleasure laugh at it; and if you be sorry it is no better, you may be glad it is no bigger.

Yours ever,
WILLIAM ROWLEY.[696]
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Scene, London and its neighbourhood.
A FAIR QUARREL.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Court before Russell’s House.
Enter Russell.
Rus. It must be all my care; there’s all my love,
And that pulls on the other.[697] Had I been left
In a son behind me, while I had been here
He should have shifted as I did before him,
Liv’d on the freeborn portion of his wit;
But a daughter, and that an only one,—O,
We cannot be too careful o’ her, too tender! ’Tis such
A brittle niceness, a mere cupboard of glasses,
The least shake breaks or cracks 'em. All my aim is
To cast her upon riches; that’s the thing
We rich men call perfection; for the world
Can perfect nought without it: ’tis not neatness,
Either in handsome wit or handsome outside,
With which one gentleman, far in debt, has courted her;
Which boldness he shall rue. He thinks me blind
And ignorant: I’ve let him play a long time,
Seem’d to believe his worth, which I know nothing:
He may perhaps laugh at my easy confidence,
Which closely I requite upon his fondness,
For this hour snaps him; and before his mistress,
His saint, forsooth, which he inscribes my girl,
He shall be rudely taken and disgrac’d.
The trick will prove an everlasting scarecrow
To fright poor gallants from our rich men’s daughters.
Enter Lady Ager and two Servants.
Sister! I’ve such a joy to make you a welcome of,
Better you never tasted.
Lady Ager. Good, sir, spare it not.
Rus. Colonel’s come, and your son captain Ager.
Lady Ager. My son? [Weeps.
Russ. I know your eye would be first serv’d;
That’s the soul’s taster still for grief or joy.
Lady Ager. O, if a mother’s dear suit may prevail with him,
From England he shall never part again!
Rus. No question he’ll be rul’d, and grant you that.
Lady Ager. I’ll bring all my desires to that request.
[Exit with servants.
Rus. Affectionate sister! she has no daughter now;
It follows all the love must come to him,
And he has a worth deserves it, were it dearer.
Enter Friend of the Colonel and Friend of Captain Ager.
Col.’s Fr. I must not give way to’t.
Rus. What’s here to question? [Aside.
Col.’s Fr. Compare young captain Ager with the Colonel!
Cap.’s Fr. Young? why, do you
Make youth stand for an imputation?
That which you now produce for his disgrace
Infers his nobleness, that, being young,
Should have an anger more inclin’d to courage
And moderation than the Colonel;
A virtue as rare as chastity in youth;
And let the cause be good—conscience in him,
Which ever crowns his acts, and is indeed
Valour’s prosperity—he dares then as much
As ever made him famous that you plead for.
Col.’s Fr. Then I forbear too long.
Cap.’s Fr. His worth for me! [They fight.
Rus. Here’s noble youths! belike some wench has cross’d 'em,
And now they know not what to do with their blood.
[Aside.
Enter the Colonel and Captain Ager.
Col. How now?
Cap. Ager. Hold, hold! what’s the incitement?
Col. So serious at your game! come, come, the quarrel?
Col.’s Fr. Nothing, good faith, sir.
Col. Nothing? and you bleed?
Col.’s Fr. Bleed! where? pish, a little scratch by chance, sir.
Col. What need this niceness,[698] when you know so well
That I must know these things, and truly know 'em?
Your daintiness makes me but more impatient;
This strange concealment frets me.
Col.’s Fr. Words did pass
Which I was bound to answer, as my opinion
And love instructed me;
And should I take in general fame into 'em,
I think I should commit no error in’t.
Col. What words, sir, and of whom?
Col.’s Fr. This gentleman
Parallell’d captain Ager’s worth with yours.
Col. With mine?
Col.’s Fr. It was a thing I could not listen to
With any patience.
Cap. Ager. What should ail you, sir?
There was little wrong done to your friend i’ that.
Col. How? little wrong to me?
Cap. Ager. I said so, friend,
And I suppose that you’ll esteem it so.
Col. Comparisons!
Cap. Ager. Why, sir, 'twixt friend and friend
There is so even and level a degree,
It will admit of no superlative.
Col. Not in terms of manhood?
Rus. [coming forward] Nay, gentlemen——
Col. Good sir, give me leave—in terms of manhood,
What can you dispute more questionable?
You’re a captain, sir; I give you all your due.
Cap. Ager. And you are a colonel, a title
Which may include within it many captains:
Yet, sir, but throwing by those titular shadows,
Which add no substance to the men themselves,
And take them uncompounded, man and man,
They may be so with fair equality.
Col. You’re a boy, sir!
Cap. Ager. And you have a beard, sir:
Virginity and marriage are both worthy;
And the positive purity there are some
Have made the nobler.
Col. How now?
Rus. Nay, good sir——
Cap. Ager. I shrink not; he that goes the foremost may
Be overtaken.
Col. Death, how am I weigh’d!
Cap. Ager. In an even balance, sir; a beard put in
Gives but a small advantage: man and man,
And lift the scales.
Col. Patience shall be my curse,
If it ride me further! [They draw their swords.
Rus. How now, gallants?
Believe me then, I must give aim[699] no longer:
Can words beget swords, and bring 'em forth, ha?
Come, they’re abortive propagations;
Hide 'em, for shame! I had thought soldiers
Had been musical, would not strike out of time,
But to the consort[700] of drum, trumps, and fife:
’Tis madman-like to dance without music,
And most unpleasing shews to the beholders,
A Lydian ditty to a Doric note.
Friends embrace with steel hands? fie, it meets too hard!
I must have those encounters here debarr’d.
Col. Shall I lose here what I have safe brought home
Through many dangers?
Cap. Ager. What’s that, sir?
Col. My fame,
Life of the life, my reputation.
Death! I am squar’d and measur’d out;
My heights, depths, breadth, all my dimensions taken!
Sure I have yet beyond your astrolabe
A spirit unbounded.
Cap. Ager. Sir, you might weigh——
Rus. Tush!
All this is weighing fire, vain and fruitless:
The further it runs into argument,
The further plung’d; beseech you, no more on’t.
I have a little claim, sir, in your blood,
As near as the brother to your mother,
If that may serve for power to move your quiet;
The rest I shall make up with courtesy
And an uncle’s love.
Cap. Ager. I have done, sir, but——
Rus. But? I’ll have no more shooting at these butts.[701]
Col. We’ll to pricks when he please.
Rus. You rove all still.
Sir, I have no motive proof to disgest[702]
Your raised choler back into temperate blood;
But if you’ll make mine age a counsellor,—
As all ages have hitherto allow’d it,
Wisdom in men grows up as years increase,—
You shall make me blessed in making peace,
And do your judgment right.
Col. In peace at home
Grey hairs are senators, but to determine
Soldiers and their actions——
Enter Fitzallen and Jane.
Rus. ’Tis peace here, sir:
And see, here comes a happy interim;
Here enters now a scene of loving arms;
This couple will not quarrel so.
Col.’s Fr. Be advis’d, sir;
This gentleman, Fitzallen, is your kinsman;
You may o’erthrow his long-labour’d fortunes
With one angry minute; ’tis a rich churl,
And this his sole inheritrix; blast not
His hopes with this tempest.
Col. It shall calm me:
All the town’s conjurers and their demons could not
Have laid my spirit so.
Fitz. Worthy coz,
I gratulate your fair return to peace!
Your swift fame was at home long before you.
Col. It meets, I hope, your happy fortunes here,
And I am glad in’t. I must salute your joys, coz,
With a soldier’s encounter. [Kisses Jane.
Fitz. Worthy captain Ager!
I hope, my kinsman shortly.
Rus. You must come short indeed,
Or the length of my device will be ill-shrunk.
[Aside.
Why, now it shews finely! I’ll tell you, sir,—
Sir?—nay, son, I know i’ th’ end 'twill be so—
Fitz. I hope so, sir.
Rus. Hope? nay,’tis past all hope, son:
Here has been such a stormy encounter 'twixt[703]
My cousin[704] captain and this brave Colonel,
About I know not what—nothing indeed—
Competitions, degrees, and comparatives
Of soldiership; but this smooth passage of love
Has calm’d it all.—Come, I will have it sound;
Let me see your hearts combined in your hands,
And then I will believe the league is good:
It shall be the grape’s, if we drink any blood.
Col. I have no anger, sir.
Cap. Ager. I have had none,
My blood has not yet rose to a quarrel;
Nor have you had cause—
Col. No cause of quarrel?
Death! if my father should tell me so——
Rus. Again?
Fitz. Good sir, for my sake——
Col. Faith, I have done, coz;
You do too hastily believe mine anger:
And yet, to say diminiting[705] valour
In a soldier is no cause of quarrel——
Rus. Nay, then, I’ll remove the cause, to kill th’ effect.
Kinsman, I’ll press you to’t, if either love
Or consanguinity may move you to’t:
I must disarm you; though ye are a soldier,
Pray, grant me your weapon; it shall be safe
[Takes Captain Ager’s sword.
At your regress from my house. Now I know
No words can move this noble soldier’s sword
To a man undefenc’d so: we shall parle,[706]
And safely make all perfect friends again.
Col. To shew my will, sir, accept mine to you;
[Gives his sword to Russell.
As good not wear it as not dare to use it.
Col.’s Fr. Nay, then, sir, we will be all exampl’d;
We’ll have no arms here now but lovers’ arms.
[Gives his sword to Russell.
Cap.’s Fr. No seconds must begin a quarrel: take mine, sir.
[Gives his sword to Russell.
Rus. Why, la, what a fine sunshine’s here! these clouds
My breath has blown into another climate.
I’ll be your armorer;[707] they are not pawn’d.—
These were the fish that I did angle for;
I have caught 'em finely. Now for my trick;
My project’s lusty, and will hit the nick.
[Exit with weapons.
Col. What, is’t a match, beauty? I would now have
Alliance with my worthy captain Ager,
To knit our loves the faster: here is witness
Enough, if you confirm it now.
Jane. Sir, my voice
Was long since given, since that I gave my hand.
Col. Would you had seal’d too!
Jane. That wish comes too late,
For I too soon fear my delivery.— [Aside.
My father’s hand sticks yet, sir; you may now
Challenge a lawful interest in his:
He took your hand from your enraged blood,
And gave it freely to your opposite,
My cousin Ager: methinks you should claim from him,
In the less quality of calmer blood,
To join the hands of two divided friends,
Even these two that would offer willingly
Their own embrace.
Col.’s Fr.[708] Troth, she instructs you well,
Colonel, and you shall do a lover’s part
Worth one brave act of valour.
Col. Why, I did
Misdoubt no scruple; is there doubt in it?
Fitz. Faith, sir, delays, which at the least are doubts;
But here’s a constant resolution fix’d,
Which we wish willingly he would accord to.
Col. Tush, he shall do’t, I will not be denied;
He owes me so much in the recompense
Of my reconcilement.—Captain Ager,
You will take our parts against your uncle
In this quarrel?
Cap. Ager. I shall do my best, sir;
Two denials shall not repulse me: I love
Your worthy kinsman, and wish him mine; I know
He doubts it not.
Col. See, he’s return’d.
Re-enter Russell with Servant.
Rus. Your cue,
Be sure you keep it; 'twill be spoken quickly,
Therefore watch it. [Exit Servant.
Col. Let’s set on him all at once.
All. Sir, we have a suit to you.
Rus. What, all at once?
All. All, all, i’faith, sir.
Rus. One speaker may yet deliver: say, say;
I shall not dare to stand out 'gainst so many.
Col. Faith, sir, here’s a brabbling matter[709] hangs on demur;
I make the motion for all without a fee;
Pray you, let it be ended this term.
Rus. Ha, ha, ha!—
That is the rascal’s cue, and he has miss’d it.—
[Aside.
What is’t, what is’t, sir?
Col. Why, sir, here’s a man
And here’s a woman—you’re scholar good enough—
Put 'em together, and tell me what it spells?
Rus. Ha, ha, ha!—
There’s his cue once again:
Re-enter Servant.
O, he’s come—humph! [Aside.
Ser. My master laughs; that is his cue to mischief.
[Aside.
Col. What say you, sir?
Ser. Sir——
Rus. Ha! what say you, sir?
Ser. Sir, there’s a couple desire speedily to speak with you.
Rus. A couple, sir, of what? hounds or horses?
Ser. Men, sir; gentlemen or yeomen, I know not which,
But the one, sure, they are.
Rus. Hast thou no other description of them?

Ser. They come with commission, they say, sir, to taste of your earth; if they like it, they’ll turn it into gunpowder.

Rus. O, they are saltpetre-men—before me,[710]
And they bring commission, the king’s power indeed!
They must have entrance: but the knaves will be brib’d;
There’s all the hope we have in officers;
They were too dangerous in a commonwealth,
But that they will be very well corrupted;
Necessary varlets.
Ser. Shall I enter in,[711] sir?
Rus. By all fair means, sir,
And with all speed, sir: give 'em very good words,
To save my ground unravish’d, unbroke up:
[Exit Servant.
Mine’s yet
A virgin earth; the worm hath not been seen
To wriggle in her chaste bowels, and I’d be loath
A gunpowder fellow should deflower her now.
Col. Our suit is yet delay’d by this means, sir.
Rus. Alas, I cannot help it! these fellows gone,
As I hope I shall despatch 'em quickly,
A few articles shall conclude your suit:
Who? master Fitzallen? the only man
That my adoption aims at.
Col. There’s good hope then.
Enter two Sergeants in disguise.
First Serg. Save you, sir.
Rus. You are welcome, sir, for aught I know yet.
Sec. Serg. We come to take a view and taste of your ground, sir.
Rus. I’d rather feed you with better meat, gentlemen;
But do your pleasures, pray.
First Serg. This is our pleasures:—We arrest you, sir,
In the king’s name. [They arrest Fitzallen.
Fitz. Ha! at whose suit?
Rus. How’s that?
Col. Our weapons, good sir, furnish us!
Jane. Ay me!
Rus. Stay, stay, gentlemen, let’s inquire the cause:
It may be but a trifle; a small debt
Shall need no rescue here.

Sec. Serg. Sir, betwixt three creditors, master Leach, master Swallow, and master Bonesuck, the debts are a thousand pounds.

Rus. A thousand pounds! beshrow[712] me, a good[713] man’s substance!
Col. Good sir, our weapons! we’ll teach these varlets to walk
In their own parti-colour’d coats, that they
May be distinguished from honest men.
First Serg. Sir, attempt no rescue; he’s our prisoner:
You’ll make the danger worse by violence.
Col. A plague upon your gunpowder-treason,
Ye quick-damn’d varlets! is this your saltpeter-proving,
Your tasting earth? would you might ne’er feed better,
Nor none of your catchpoll tribe!—Our weapons, good sir!
We’ll yet deliver him.
Rus. Pardon me, sir;
I dare not suffer [any] rescue here,
At least not by so great an accessary
As to furnish you: had you had your weapons—
But to see the ill fate on’t!—My fine trick, i’faith!
Let beggars beware to love rich men’s daughters:
I’ll teach 'em the new morrice; I learnt it myself
Of another careful father. [Aside.
Fitz. May I not be bail’d?
Sec. Serg. Yes, but not with swords.
Col. Slaves, here are sufficient men!
First Serg. Ay, i’ th’ field,
But not in the city.—Sir, if this gentleman
Will be one, we’ll easily admit the second.
Rus. Who, I? sir, pray, pardon me: I am wrong’d,
Very much wrong’d in this; I must needs speak it.—
Sir, you have not dealt like an honest lover
With me nor my child: here you boast to me
Of a great revenue, a large substance,
Wherein you would endow and state my daughter:
Had I miss’d this, my opinion yet
Thought you a frugal man, to understand
The sure wards against all necessities;
Boldly to defend your wife and family,
To walk unmuffl’d, dreadless of these flesh-hooks,
Even in the daring’st streets through all the city;
But now I find you a loose prodigal,
A large unthrift: a whole thousand pound!—
Come from him, girl, his inside is not sound.
Fitz. Sir, I am wrong’d; these are malicious plots
Of some obscure enemies that I have;
These debts are none of mine.
Rus. Ay, all say so:
Perhaps you stand engag’d for other men;
If so you do, you must then call’t your own:
The like arrearage do I run into
Should I bail you; but I have vow’d against it,
And I will keep my vows; that is religious.
Fitz. All this is nothing so, sir.
Rus. Nothing so?
By my faith, ’tis, sir; my vows are firm.
Fitz. I neither
Owe these debts, nor [am] engag’d for others.
Rus. The easier is your liberty regain’d:
These appear proofs to me.
Col. Liberty, sir?
I hope you will not see him go to prison.
Rus. I do not mean to bear him company
So far, but I will see him out of my doors:
O, sir, let him go to prison! ’tis a school
To tame wild bloods, he’ll be much better for’t.
Col. Better for lying in prison?
Rus. In prison; believe it,
Many an honest man lies in prison, else all
The keepers are knaves; they told me so themselves.
Col. Sir, I do now suspect you have betray’d him
And us, to cause us to be weaponless:
If it be so, you’re a blood-sucking churl,
One that was born in a great frost, when charity
Could not stir a finger; and you shall die
In heat of a burning fever i’ th’ dog-days,
To begin your hell to you: I’ve said your grace for you;
Now get you to supper as soon as you can;
Pluto, the master of the house, is set already.
Cap. Ager. Sir, you do wrong mine uncle.
Col. Pox on your uncle
And all his kin! if my kinsman mingle
No blood with him.
Cap. Ager. You are a foul-mouth’d fellow!
Col. Foul-mouth’d I will be—thou’rt the son of a whore!
Cap. Ager. Ha! whore? plagues and furies! I’ll thrust that back,
Or pluck thy heart out after!—son of a whore?
Col. On thy life I’ll prove it.
Cap. Ager. Death, I am naked!—
Uncle, I’ll give you my left hand for my sword
To arm my right with—O this fire will flame me
Into present ashes!
Col. Sir, give us weapons;
We ask our own; you will not rob us of them?
Rus. No, sir, but still restrain your furies here:
At my door I’ll give you them, nor at this time
My nephew’s; a time will better suit you:
And I must tell you, sir, you have spoke swords,
And, 'gainst the law of arms, poison’d the blades,
And with them wounded the reputation
Of an unblemish’d woman: would you were out of my doors!
Col. Pox on your doors, and let it run all your house o’er!
Give me my sword!
Cap. Ager. We shall meet, Colonel?
Col. Yes, better provided: to spur thee more,
I do repeat my words—son of a whore!