Rav. I think so: how could you find it? for you know it stands behind the houses. Dog. Mass, that's true; then we must look o'the back-side for't. 'Sfoot here's nothing; all's bare. Rav. I warrant thee, that stands for the Counter: for you know there's a company of bare fellows there. Put. 'Faith like enough, serjeant; I never marked so much before. Sirrah serjeant, and yeoman, I should love these maps out o' cry now, if we could see men peep out of door in 'em. O, we might have 'em in a morning to our breakfast so finely, and ne'er knock our heels to the ground a whole day for 'em. Rav. Ay marry, sir, I'd buy one then myself. But this talk is by the way.---Where shall us sup to-night? Five pound received---let's talk of that. I have a trick worth all. You two shall bear him to the tavern, whilst I go close with his hostess, and work out of her. I know she would be glad of the sum, to finger money, because she knows 'tis but a desperate debt, and full of hazard.--What will you say, if I bring it to pass, that the hostess shall be contented with one half for all, and we to share t'other fifty shillings, bullies? Put. Why, I would call thee king of serjeants, and thou should'st be chronicled in the Counterbook for ever. Rav. Well, put it to me; we'll make a night on't, i'faith. Dog. 'Sfoot, I think he receives more money, he stays so long. Put. He tarries long indeed. May be I can tell you, upon the good liking on't, the gentleman may prove more bountiful. Rav. That would be rare; we'll search him. Put. Nay, be sure of it, we'll search him, and make him light enough. Enter Gentleman. Rav. O, here comes the gentleman. By your leave, sir. Put. Back-door? Gent. Why, what's the matter? Put. He was our prisoner, sir; we did arrest him. Gent. What! he was not?-You the sheriff's officers! You were to blame then. Why did not you make known to me as much? I could have kept him for you. I protest he received all of me in Britain gold of the last coining.4 45 Rav. Vengeance dog him with't! Put. 'Sfoot, has he gull'd us so? Dog. Where shall we sup now, serjeants? Put. Sup, Simon, now !46 eat porridge for a month.-Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in your worship. You did but as another would have done. Twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase ;-but if e'er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him. Rav. The Hole shall rot him.47 Dog. Amen. Gent. So; [Exeunt Serjeants. Vex out your lungs without doors. I am proud From their unpitying fangs. I'm glad it stood 45 I protest, he received of me all in Britain gold of the last coining." On the 16th of November 1604, (says Stowe, Annals, p. 856, edit. 1631,) was proclaimed at London certain new pieces of coine both of gold and silver, with the true valuation and weights of them, according to the mint of both nations, Eng lish and Scottish.-MALONE. 46 Sup, Simon, now ?—This alludes to the character of" Simon of Southampton, alias Sup-broth," whom we read of in Thomas of Reading, or the sixe worthie Yeomen of the West. Now the sixth time cor rected and enlarged by T. D. (i. e. Thomas Decker) 1632.-STEEVENS. 47 The Hole shall rot him.-The Hole was one of the meanest apartments in the Counter prison. See The Walks of Hogsdon, with the Humours of Woodstreet Compter, a comedy, 1657: "Next from the stocks, the Hole, and Little-ease, Libera nos, Domine." "If a man must be in a prison (says Suckling) 'tis better to lie in a private room, than in the Hole.→ MALONE. So in the Counter-rat, a poem, 1658: "In Woodstreet's hole, or Poultry's hell."-STEEVEN SCENE VI.-A Room in the Marshalsea Prison. Enter IDLE; to him PYEBOARD. Idle. How now! Who's that? What are you? Pye. The same that I should be, captain. Idle. George Pyeboard? Honest George? Why cam'st thou in half-faced, muffled so? Pye. O captain, I thought we should ne'er have laughed again, never spent frolic hour again. Idle. Why? why? Pye. I coming to prepare thee, and with news As happy as thy quick delivery,-- Was traced out by the scent; arrested, captain. Idle. Arrested, George? do Pye. Arrested. Guess, guess,-how many dogs you think I had upon me? Idle. Dogs? I say, I know not. wrought to further it,) besides, to put crowns in your purse, to make you a man of better hopes; and whereas, before you were a captain or poor soldier, to make you now a commander of rich fools, which is truly the only best purchase peace can allow you, safer than highways, heath, or cony-groves, and yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are never hanged, never hanged: for why? they're wise, and cheat within doors; and we geld fools of more money in one night, than your false-tailed gelding 49 will purchase in twelvemonths' running; which confirms the old beldam's saying, He's wisest, that keeps himself warmest; that is, he that robs by a good fire. Idle. Well opened i'faith, George; thou hast pulled that saying out of the husk. Pye. Captain Idle, 'tis no time now to delude or delay. The old knight will be here suddenly; Pye. Almost as many as George Stone, the I'll perfect you, direct you, tell you the trick on't : bear; 48 three at once, three at once. Idle. How didst thou shake them off then? Pye. The time is busy, and calls upon our wits. Let it suffice, Here I stand safe, and scaped by miracle;" With palsy hams, now labours thy release. Pye. The devil a conjuring? Nay, by my fay, I'd not have thee do so much, captain, as the devil a conjuring. Look here; I have brought thee a circle ready charactered and all. 'tis nothing. Idle. 'Sfoot, George, I know not what to say to't. Conjure? I shall be hanged ere I conjure. Pye. Nay, tell not me of that, captain; you'll ne'er conjure after you're hanged, I warrant you. Look you, sir; a parlous matter, sure! First, to spread your circle upon the ground, with a little conjuring ceremony, (as I'll have an hackneyman's wand silvered o'er o'purpose for you ;) then arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a great trample-as, for instance-have you never seen a stalking, stamping player, that will raise a tempest with his tongue, and thunder with his heels? Idle. O yes, yes, yes; often, often. Pye. Why be like such a one. For any thing will blear the old knight's eyes; for you must note, that he'll ne'er dare to venture into the room; only perhaps peep fearfully through the key-hole, to see how the play goes forward. Idle. Well, I may go about it when I will; but Idle. 'Sfoot, George, art in thy right wits? Dost mark the end on't; I shall but shame myself know what thou say'st? Why dost talk to a cap-i'faith, George. Speak big words, and stamp and tain of conjuring? Didst thou ever hear of a Captain Conjure in thy life? Dost call't a circle? Tis too wide a thing, methinks? had it been a lesser circle, then I knew what to have done. Pye. Why every fool knows that, captain. Nay then I'll not cog with you, captain: if you'll stay and hang the next sessions, you may. Idle. No, by my faith, George. Come, come; let's to conjuring. Pye. But if you look to be released, (as my wits have took pain to work it, and all means stare, and he look in at key-hole! why the very thought of that would make me laugh outright, and spoil all. Nay, I'll tell thee, George; when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative laughter, that if the devil himself stood by, I should laugh in his face. Pye. Puh! that's but the babe of a man, and may easily be hushed;-as to think upon some disaster, some sad misfortune;-as the death of thy father i'the country. Idle. 'Sfoot, that would be the more to drive 45 Almost as many as George Stone, the bear :-George Stone was a noted bear exhibited at Paris Garden; so called from the name of his owner. Thus in the Silent Woman, by B. Jonson, 1605 :-" and then out of the banqueting house window, when Ned Whiting and George Stone were at the stake."-Sacarson, the bear mentioned in the Merry Wives of Windsor, probably likewise bore the name of his keeper.→ MALONE. * False-tailed gelding.-i e. a horse for a highwayman, with a false tail to take on and off. me into such an ecstacy, that I should ne'er lin laughing. Pye. Why then think upon going to hanging. Idle. Mass that's well remembered: Now I'll do well, I warrant thee; ne'er fear me now. But how shall I do, George, for boisterous words and horrible names? Pye. Puh! any fustian invocations, captain, will serve as well as the best, so you rant them out well or you may go to a 'pothecary's shop, and take all the words from the boxes. Idle. Troth, and you say true, George; there's strange words enough to raise a hundred quacksalvers, though they be ne'er so poor when they begin. But here lies the fear on't: how, if in this false conjuration a true devil should pop up indeed? Pye. A true devil, captain? why there was ne'er such a one. Nay 'faith he that has this place is as false a knave as our last church-warden. Idle. Then he's false enough o' conscience, i'faith, George. the Prisoners cry within.] Good gentlemen over way, send your relief: Good gentlemen over the way, good, sir Godfrey! Pye. He's come, he's come. Enter Sir GODFREY, EDMOND, and NICHOLAS. Nich. Master, that's my kinsman yonder in the buff-jerkin. Kinsman, that's my master yonder i'the taffaty hat. Pray salute him entirely. [Sir GODFREY and IDLE salute, and PYEBOARD salutes EDMOND. Sir God. Now my friend. [Sir GODFREY and IDLE talk aside. Pye. May I partake your name, sir? Edm. My name is master Edmond. Pye. Master Edmond? Are you not a Welshman, sir? Edm. A Welshman? why? Pye. Because master is your Christian name, and Edmond your sirname. Edm. O no: I have more names at home; master Edmond Plus is my full name at length. Pye. O, cry you mercy, sir. Idle. [Aside to Sir GODFREY.] I understand that you are my kinsman's good master; and in regard of that, the best of my skill is at your service. But had you fortuned a mere stranger, and made no means to me by acquaintance, I should have utterly denied to have been the man; both by reason of the act of parliament against conjurers and witches,50 as also, because I would not have my art vulgar, trite, and common. Sir God. I much commend your care there, good captain conjurer; and that I will be sure to have it private enough, you shall do't in my sister's house; mine own house I may call it, for both our charges therein are proportioned. Idle. Very good, sir. What may I call your loss, sir? Sir God. O you may call it a great loss, a grievous loss, sir; as goodly a chain of gold, though I say it, that wore it-How say'st thou, Nicholas? Nich. O'twas as delicious a chain of gold, kinsman, you know Sir God. You know? Did you know't, captain? Idle. Trust a fool with secrets!-Sir, he may say, I know. His meaning is, because my art is such, that by it I may gather a knowledge of all things. Sir God. Ay, very true. Idle. A pox of all fools! The excuse stuck upon my tongue like ship-pitch upon a mariner's gown, not to come off in haste. [Aside.] By'r lady, knight, to lose such a fair chain of gold, were a foul loss. Well, I can put you in this good comfort on't: if it be between heaven and earth, knight, I'll have it for you. Sir God. A wonderful conjurer! O ay, 'tis between heaven and earth, I warrant you; it cannot go out of the realm: I know 'tis somewhere above the earth; Idle. Ay, nigher the earth than thou wot'st on. [Aside. Sir God. For first, my chain was rich, and no rich thing shall enter into heaven, you know. Nich. And as for the devil, master, he has no need on't; for you know he has a great chain of his own. Sir God. Thou say'st true, Nicholas, but he has put off that now; that lies by him. Idle. 'Faith, knight, in few words, I presume so much upon the power of my art, that I could warrant your chain again. Sir God. O dainty captain! Idle. Marry, it will cost me much sweat; I were better go to sixteen hot-houses. Sir God. Ay, good man, I warrant thee. Idle. Beside great vexation of kidney and liver. Nich. O, 'twill tickle you hereabouts, cousin; because you have not been used to't. Sir God. No? have you not been used to't, captain? Idle. Plague of all fools still! [Aside.] Indeed, knight, I have not used it a good while, and therefore 'twill strain me so much the more, you know, 50 Both by reason of the act of parliament against conjurers and witches.-The act alluded to passed in the first year of James I. (1604.) This passage, therefore, corroborates the various other circumstances that have been mentioned, to show that the play before us was not written till after that period. There is a particular clause in this statute against all persons "taking upon them by witchcraft, &c. to tell or declare in what place any treasure of gold or silver should or might be found or had in the earth, or other secret places."-MALONE. 1 Sir God. O, it will, it will. Idle. What plunges he puts me to? Were not this knight a fool, I had been twice spoiled now. That captain's worse than accursed that has an ass to his kinsman. 'Sfoot, I fear he will drivel it out, before I come to't.-Now, sir, to come to the point indeed: You see I stick here in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and cannot do't. Sir God. Tut, tut, I know thy meaning: thou would'st say thou'rt a prisoner: I tell thee thou'rt Keep. Sir. Enter Keeper. Sir God. Speak, is not this man free? Keep. Yes, at his pleasure, sir, the fees discharged. Sir God. Go; go; I'll discharge them, I. Keep. I thank your worship. [Exit Keeper. Idle. Now, trust me, you're a dear knight.Kindness unexpected! O, there's nothing to a free gentleman. I will conjure for you, sir, till froth come through my buff-jerkin. Sir God. Nay, then thou shalt not pass with so little a bounty; for at the first sight of my chain again, forty fine angels shall appear unto thee. Idle. Twill be a glorious show, i'faith, knight; a very fine show. But are all these of your own house? Are you sure of that, sir? Sir God. Ay, ay;-no, no. What's he yonder talking with my wild nephew? Pray heaven he give him good counsel. Idle. Who, he? He's a rare friend of mine, an admirable fellow, knight; the finest fortune-teller,-- Sir God. O! 'tis he indeed, that came to my lady sister, and foretold the loss of my chain: I am not angry with him now, for I see 'twas my fortune to lose it. By your leave, master fortuneteller, I had a glimpse of you at home, at my sister's the widow's; there you prophecied of the loss of a chain: simply, though I stand here, I was he that lost it. Pye. Was it you, sir? Edm. O' my troth, nuncle, he's the rarest felJow; has told me my fortune so right! I find it so right to my nature. Sir God. What is't! God send it a good one. Edm. O, 'tis a passing good one, nuncle; for he says I shall prove such an excellent gamester in my time, that I shall spend all faster than my father got it. Sir God. There's a fortune indeed. Sir God. Ay, that will be the end on't. Will the curse of the beggar prevail so much, that the son shall consume that foolishly which the father got craftily? Ay, ay, ay; 'twill, 'twill, 'twill. Pye. Stay, stay, stay. [Opens an Almanack, and takes IDLE aside. Idle. Turn over, George. Pye. June-July-Here, July; that's this month; Sunday thirteen, yesterday fourteen, to-day fif Idle. No luck. Pyc. But about high-noon, lightning and thunder. Idle. Lightning and thunder? admirable! best of all! I'll conjure to-morrow just at high-noon, George. Pye. Happen but true to-morrow, almanack, and I'll give thee leave to lie all the year after. Idle. Sir, I must crave your patience, to bestow this day upon me, that I may furnish myself strongly. I sent a spirit into Lancashire t'other day, to fetch back a knave drover, and I look for his return this evening. To-morrow morning my friend here and I will come and breakfast with you. Sir God. O, you shall be most welcome. Idle. And about noon, without fail, I purpose to conjure. Sir God. Mid-noon will be a fine time for you. Edm. Conjuring? Do you mean to conjure at our house to-morrow, sir? Idle. Marry do I, sir; 'tis my intent, young gentleman. Edm. By my troth, I'll love you while I live for't. O rare! Nicholas, we shall have conjuring to-morrow. Nich. Puh! ay, I could ha' told you of that. Idle. La, he could have told him of that! fool, coxcomb, could you? [Aside. Edm. Do you hear me, sir? I desire more ac 51 Here's the fifteenth day-Hot and fair, &c.—When this play was written, even scholars and men of sense believed the astrological predictions of the Almanack,-PERCY. quaintance on you. You shall earn some money of me, now I know you can conjure:-but can you fetch any that is lost? Idle. O, any thing that's lost. Edm. Why look you, sir, I tell it you as a friend and a conjurer. I should marry a 'pothecary's daughter, and 'twas told me, she lost her maidenhead at Stony-Stratford: now, if you'll do but so much as conjure for't, and make all whole again--Idle. That I will, sir. Edm. By my troth I thank you, la. ACT IV. SCENEI.-An Apartment in the Widow's House. his heart there; what have we to do with that! Enter MARY and Sir JOHN PENNYDUB. Sir John. But I hope you will not serve a knight so, gentlewoman, will you? to cashier hin, and cast him off at your pleasure! What, do you think I was dubbed for nothing? No, by my faith, lady's daughter. Mary. Pray, sir John Pennydub, let it be deferred awhile. I have as big a heart to marry as you can have; but, as the fortune-teller told meSir John. Pox o' the fortune-teller! Would Derrick had been his fortune seven years ago, to cross my love thus! Did he know what case I was in? Why this is able to make a man drown himself in his father's fish-pond. 53 Mary. And then he told me moreover, sir John, that the breach of it kept my father in purgato ry. Sir John. In purgatory? why let him purge out There's physicians enough there to cast his wa ter:54 is that any matter to us? How can he hinder our love? Why let him be hanged, now he's dead.-Well, have I rid post day and night, to bring you merry news of my father's death, and now Mary. Thy father's death? Is the old farmer dead? Sir John. As dead as his barn-door, Moll. Mary. And you'll keep your word with me now, sir John; that I shall have my coach and my coachman? Sir John. Ay 'faith. Mary. And two white horses with black feathers to draw it? Sir John. Two. Mary. A guarded lacky to run before it," and pied liveries to come trashing after't,56 52 Why now thou art a good knave; worth a hundred Brownists.-Sectaries, so called from Robert Brown, who first advanced the doctrines held by them, about the year 1583. See Fuller's Church Hist. B. IX. p. 268.—Malone. See notes on Twelfth Night, last edit. vol. iv. p. 231.—STEEVENS. 53 Would Derrick had been his fortune seven years ago.-Derrick was the common hangman at the time this play was produced.-MALONE. So in the Bell-man of London, 1616:-" He rides circuit with the devil, and Derricke must be his host, and Tyborne the inne at which he will light." Again,“ if Derricke's cables do but hold." Again, in the ancient Ballad, entitled, " Upon the Earle of Essex his Death:" "Derick, thou know'st at Cales I saved "Thy life lost for a rape there done, "Where thou thyself can'st testifie "Thine owne hand three and twenty hung.-STEEVENS. 54 There's physicians enough there to cast his water.-To discover his distemper by the inspection of his urine. So in Macbeth: "If thou couldst, doctor, cast "The water of my land, find her disease," &c.—MALONE. See note on Macbeth, last edit. vol. iv. p. 597.-STEEVENS. 55 A guarded lacky to run before it.---A running footman, with guards or facings to his livery.-MA• LONE. 56 This word has greatly puzzled dramatic critics. It occurs in Bonduca, where Caratach, descri® bing his retreat, says, I fled too, But not so fast, your jewel had been lost then, I took him, and with my tough belt to my back |
