Nob. Madam, though I came now from court, I come not to flatter you. Upon whom can! justly cast this blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not ink from milk? such is the blind besotting in the state of an unheaded woman that's a widow. For it is the property of all you that are widows (a handful excepted) to hate those that honestly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit, state, and posterity; and strongly to dote on those that only love you to undo you. Who regard you least, are best regarded; who hate you most, are best beloved. And if there be but one man amongst ten thousand millions of men, that is accurst, disastrous, and evilly planeted; whom Fortune beats most, whom God hates most, and all societies esteem least, that man is sure to be a husband. Such is the peevish moon that rules your bloods. Au impudent fellow best wooes you, a flattering lip have best wins you; or in a mirth, who talks roughliest, is most sweetest: nor can you distinguish truth from forgeries, mists from simplicity; witness those two deceitful monsters, that you entertained for bridegrooms. Wid. Deceitful! Pye. All will out. Idle. 'Sfoot, who has blabbed, George; that foolish Nicholas ? Nob. For what they have besotted your easy blood withal, were nought but forgeries: the fortune-telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain sir Godfrey heard the falsehood of, all, nothing but mere knavery, deceit, and cozenage. Wid. O wonderful! indeed I wondered that my husband, with all his craft, could not keep himself out of purgatory. Sir God. And I more wondered, that my chain should be gone, and my tailor had none of it. Mary. And I wondered most of all, that I should be tied from marriage, having such a mind to it. Come, sir John Pennydub, fair weather on our side: The moon has changed since yesternight. Pye. The sting of every evil is within me. Nob. And that you may perceive I feign not with you, behold their fellow actor in those for geries; who, full of spleen and envy at their so sudden advancements, revealed all their plot in anger. Pye. Base soldier, to reveal us! Wid. Is't possible we should be blinded so, and our eyes open? Nob. Widow, will you now believe that false which too soon you believed true? Wid. O, to my shame, I do. Sir God. But under favour, my lord, my chain was truly lost, and strangely found again. Nob. Resolve him of that, soldier. Skir. In few words, knight, then thou wert the arch-gull of all. Sir God. How, sir? Skir. Nay, I'll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary-bank all this while; and thou got'st him out of prison to conjure for it, who did it admirably, fustianly; for indeed what needed any other, when he knew where it was? Sir God. O villainy of villainies! But how caine my chain there?" Skir. Where's Truly la, Indeed la, he that will not swear, but lie; he that will not steal, but rob; pure Nicholas Saint-Antlings? Sir God. O villain! one of our society, Deemed always holy, pure, religious : A puritan a thief! When was't ever heard? Sooner we'll kill a man, than steal, thou know'st Out slave! Ill rend my lion from thy back, With mine own hands. Nich. Dear master! O! Nob. Nay knight, dwell in patience. And now, widow, being so near the church, 'twere great p ty, nay uncharity, to send you home again without a husband, Draw nearer, you of true wre ship, state, and credit; that should not stand so far off from a widow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you. Not that in these I blemish the true title of a captain, or blot the fair margent of a scholar; for I honour worthy and deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitful virtues in the other. Come, lady, and you virgin, bestow your eyes and your purest affections upon men of estimatiou both in court and city, that have long wooed you, and both with their hearts and wealth sincerely love you. Sir God. Good sister, do. Sweet little Franke, these are men of reputation: you shall be welcome at court; a great credit for a citizen. Sweet sister, Nob. Come, her silence does consent to't. Nob. Poh, poh, with your own face; they desire no other. Wid. Pardon me, worthy sirs: I and my daugh ter Have wronged your loves. Sir Oliv. 'Tis easily pardoned, lady, if you vouchsafe it now. Wid. With all my soul. heart. Sir John. They are all mine, Moll. What honest spirit but will applaud your choice, Come, enter into your joys; you shall not want 58 58 Though Shakespeare has ridiculed the Puritans in his All's Well that Ends well, and Twelfth Night, yet he seems not to have had the smallest share in the present comedy. The author of it, however, was well acquainted with his plays, as appears from resemblances already pointed out. There is little attempt at character throughout the piece, and that little has not proved very successful. The suitors are an unmeaning group; and, though we have eight of the sanctimonious tribe on the stage, they are by no means nicely discriminated from each other. Nicholas St Antlings indeed might have been designed for their chief, as he possesses most of their qualities, i. e. is the greatest hypocrite of them all.—I have not met with the old ballad from which our comedy receives its title; but am told, that the second of these performances has no other obligation to the first.—STEEVENS. 3 H VOL. I. 1 "A booke called A Yorkshire Tragedy," was entered by Thomas Pavier at Stationers' Hall, May 2, 1608, and the play, or rather interlude, was printed by him in the same year, under the title of 4 Yorkshire Tragedy, not so new as lamentable and true. The murder, on which this short drama is founded, was committed in 1604, and a ballad was made upon it in the following year; of which, probably, this tra gedy is only an enlargement. The fact is thus related in Stowe's Chronicle, anno 1604:-" Walter Callverly of Calverly, in Yorkshire, Esquier, murdred two of his young children, stabbed his wife into the bodie, with full purpose to have murdred her, and instantly went from his house to have slaine his youngest child at nurse, but was prevented. For which fact, at his triall in Yorke, hee stood mute, and was judged to be prest to death; according to which judgment he was executed at the castell of Yorke the 5th of August." The piece before us was acted at the Globe, together with three other short dramas that were repre sented on the same day under the name of All's One, as appears from one of the titles of the quarto, 1608, which runs thus: "ALL'S ONE, or one of the foure plaies in one, called a Yorkshire tragedy; as it was plaied by the king's majestie's plaiers." Shakspeare's name is affixed to this piece.-MALONE. Ralph. Ay, that's true, for she bears the blows. Oliv. Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years' wages my young mistress knew so much; she'd run upon the left hand of her wit, and ne'er be her own woman again. Sam. And I think she was blest in her cradle, that he never came in her bed. Why, he has consumed all, pawned his lands, and made his university brother stand in wax for him: there's a fine phrase for a scrivener. Puh! he owes more than his skin is worth. Oliv. Is't possible? Sam. Nay, I'll tell you moreover, he calls his wife whore, as familiarly as one would call Moll and Doll; and his children bastards, as naturally as can be.-But what have we here? I thought 'twas something pulled down my breeches; I quite forgot my two poking sticks: these came from London. Now any thing is good here that comes from London. Oliv. Ay, far-fetched, you know, Sam.—But speak in your conscience i'faith; have not we as good poking-sticks i'the country as need to be put in the fire? Sam. The mind of a thing is all; the mind of a thing is all; and, as thou said'st even now, farfetched are the best things for ladies. Oliv. Ay, and for waiting-gentlewomen too. Sam. But Ralph, what, is our beer sour this thunder? Ralph. No, no, it holds countenance yet. Both. I'faith, let's hear it, let's hear it. Sam. The bravest humour! 'twould do a man good to be drunk in it: they call it knighting in London, when they drink upon their knees. 6 Both. 'Faith, that's excellent. Sam. Come follow me; I'll give you all the degrees of it in order, 7 [Exeunt. 2 See notes on Much Ado about Nothing, last edit. vol. ii. p. 321.-STEEVENS, Rebato was the name of an ancient head-dress. The wires were used to distend the hair or lace.PERCY. 3. In my codpiece.—See note on the Two Gentlemen of Verona, last edit. vol. i. p. 165.—STEEVENS. 4 The true picture of a common serving-man.—I remember to have seen one of these representations of a man loaded with several domestic instruments and utensils. It was painted against a buttery fronting the screen of an ancient hall. I think another hieroglyphic of the same kind is still visible at one of our public schools or colleges. In the year 1566 is entered on the Stationers' books "The pourtraicture of a trusty servant."-STEEVENS. 5 Any woman bears the more when she is beaten. Alluding to the old unmannerly proverb, that says, ▲ woman and a walnut tree bear the better for being thrashed.-STEEVENS. 6 They call it knighting in London, when they drink upon their knees.—So in K. Henry IV. Part II. : "Do me right, See the note there, vol. v. p. 597. edit. 1778.-MALONE. 7 I'll give you all the degrees of it in order.-Alluding perhaps to Philocothonista, or the Drunkard; a pamphlet by Thomas Haywood, in which all these degrees are set down with the most minute exactness. The earliest copy of this piece that I have met with, was published in 1635, but the first edition of it is perhaps of much elder date.-STEEVENS. SCENE II-Another Apartment in the same. Enter Wife. 8 Wife. What will become of us? All will away: hum Enter Husband. Hus. Pox o' the last throw! It made five hundred angels Vanish from my sight. I am damned, I'm damned; Is damned in this world; he is gone, he's gone. Hus. O most punishment of all, I have a wife. Wife. I do entreat you, as you love your soul, Tell me the cause of this your discontent. Hus. A vengeance strip thee naked! thou art cause, And of the body;-and so much unlike He says I am the cause: I never yet Hus. If marriage be honourable, then cuckolds are honourable, for they cannot be made without marriage. Fool! what meant I to marry, to get beggars? Now must my eldest son be a knave or nothing; he cannot live upon the fool, for he will have no land to maintain him. That mortgage sits like a snaffle upon mine inheritance, and makes me chew upon iron. My second son must be a promoter, and my third a thief, or an under-putter; a slave pander. Oh beggary, beggary, to what base uses dost thou put a man! I think the devil scorns to be a bawd; he bears himself more proudly, has more care of his credit.-Base, slavish, abject, filthy poverty! Wife. Good sir, by all our vows I do beseech you, Show me the true cause of your discontent. Hus. Money, money, money; and thou must supply me. Wife. Alas, I am the least cause of your discontent; Yet what is mine, either in rings or jewels, Hus. Puh! bastards, bastards, bastards; begot in tricks, begot in tricks. Wife. Heaven knows how those words wrong me: but I may Endure these griefs among a thousand more. Hus. Have done, thou harlot, 8 Enter Wife. It is observable, that the poet has not given a name to any of the persons exhibited in this piece, except the three servants.-MALONE. The author might not think himself at liberty to use the real names belonging to his characters, and at the same time was of opinion that fictitious ones would appear unsatisfactory, as the true were universally known, either from the ballad spoken of by Mr Malone, or from the prose narratives published soon after these notorious murders were committed. See note the last.-STEEVENS. 9 Puh! bastards, bastards, bastards.-Though the author has thought it necessary to deviate from his story as it is still related in Yorkshire, yet here he seems to have had the original cause of this unhap. py gentleman's rashness in his mind. Mr Calverly is represented to have been of a passionate disposition, and to have struck one of his children in the presence of his wife, who pertly told him, to correct chil dren of his own, when he could produce any. On this single provocation he is said to have immediately committed all the bloody facts that furnish matter for the tragedy before us. He died possessed of a large estate.-STEEVENS. |
