Yet, after all, their gayness looks thus foul. What fools are men, to build a garish 55 tomb, Only to save the carcase whilst it rots; To maintain't long in stinking, make good carion, But leave no good deeds to preserve them sound; For good deeds keep men sweet long above ground. And must all come to this? fools, wise, all hither? Must all heads thus at last be laid together? Draw me my picture, then, thou grave neat work man, After this fashion, not like this; these colours, And live by wicked faces, are but God's apes; sir. Look on my face, and read the strangest story! Hip. What, villain, ho! Hip. Thou slave, thou hast let in the devil. Sero. Lord bless us, where? he's not cloven, my lord, that I can see; besides, the devil goes more like a gentleman than a page; good my Serv. Here's a person would speak with you, lord, boon couragio. 56 Serv. If it be woman, marrow-bones and potatoe-pies keep me from meddling with her, for the thing has got the breeches! 'Tis a male-varlet, 57 sure, my lord, for a woman's tailor ne'er measured him. Hip. Let him give thee his message, and be gone. Serv. He says, he's Signor Matheo's man; but I know he lies. Hip. How dost thou know it. Serv. 'Cause he has ne'er a beard; 'tis his boy, I think, sir, whosoe'er paid for his nursing. Hip. Send him in, and keep the door.[Reads.] Fata si liceat mihi, Fingere arbitrio me, Temperem zephyro levi vela. I'd sail, were I to choose, not in the ocean; Cedars are shaken, when shrubs do feel no bruise. Enter BELLAFRONT, like a Page. How! from Matheo? Hip. Thou hast let in a woman in man's shape, And thou art damned for't. Sero. Not damned, I hope, for putting in a woman to a lord. Hip. Fetch me my rapier,-do not; I shall kill thee. Purge this infected chamber of that plague, That runs upon me thus: Slave, thrust her hence. Serv. Alas! my lord, I shall never be able to thrust her hence without help.-Come, mermaid, you must to sea again. Bel. Hear me but speak, my words shall be all music; Hear me but speak. Hip. Another beats the door, Tother she-devil! look. [Erit. Sero. Why, then, hell's broke loose. 55 Garish,-See Note 34 to Edward II. 56 Potatoe-pies,-See Note to Troilus and Cressida, p. 166. edit. 1778. 57 Male-varlet,-So, in Troilus and Cressida, A. 5. S. 1 : “ Thou art thought to be Achilles' male-varlet.” 58 I was on meditation's spotless wings.-So, in Hamlet, A. 1, S. 1: "Haste, let me know it; that I, with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.” Be not all marble; or, if't marble be, I do beseech thee, do not thus with scorn Hip. Woman, I beseech thee, Get thee some other suit, this fits thee not; Where my soul's bound in heavy penalties. Bel. She's dead you told me, she'll let fall her suit. Hip. My vows to her fled after her to heaven: Were thine eyes clear as mine, thou might'st behold her, Watching, upon yon battlements of stars. Call me most perjured villain! Let it suffice, I love thee, when with one so most most dear, Bel. Be greater than a king; save not a body, Ask counsel of this head what's to be done, If Enter his Servant. Sero. No more knaves, my lord, that wear smocks. Here's a letter from Doctor Benedict; I would not enter his man, though he had hairs at his mouth, for fear he should be a woman; for some women have beards, marry, they are half witches. 60 'Slid, you are a sweet youth to wear a codpiece, 61 and have no pins to stick upon't. Hip. I'll meet the Doctor, tell him; yet tonight I cannot but at morrow rising sun I will not fail. Go;-woman, fare-thee-well. [Exeunt. Enter FUSTIGO, CRAMBO, and POLI. Fust. Hold up your hands, gentlemen; here's one, two, three,-nay, I warrant they are sound pistols, 62 and without flaws; I had them of my sister, and I know she uses to put nothing that's crackt,-three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine By this hand, bring me but a piece of his blood, and you shall have nine more, I'll lurk in a tavern not far off, and provide supper to close up the end of the tragedy. The linen-draper's, remember. Stand to't, I beseech you; and play your parts perfectly. Crum. Look you, signior, 'tis not your gold that we weigh. Fust. Nay, nay, weigh it, and spare not; if it lack one grain of corn, I'll give you a bushel of wheat to make it up. 59 Turn Turk again.-To turn Turk, seems to have been a cant phrase for departing from the rules of chastity. So children born out of wedlock are frequently termed Pagans; as in the Captain, by Beaumont and Fletcher, A. 4. S. 1. Vol. VI. p. 67. edit. 1778, "Three little children; one of them was mine, 60 Half witches. One of the distinguishing qualities of a witch is supposed to have been hair on her chin. 61 Codpiece." Whoever wishes to be acquainted with this particular, relative to dress, may consult Bulwer's Artificial Changeling, in which such matters are very amply discussed. Ocular instruction may be had from the armour shewn as John of Gaunt's, in the Tower of London. The same fashion appears to have been no less offensive in France.-See Montaigne, chap. 22. The custom of sticking pins in this ostentatious piece of indecency was continued by the illiberal wardens of the Tower, till forbidden by authority."--Mr Steevens's Note to Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 2. S. 7. See also figure 8, in Plate 20 of Strutt's View of the Manners, Customs, &c. of the Inhabitants of England, Vol. III. 62 Sound pistols,—I suppose Fustigo means the Spanish coin, pistoles. S. VOL. I. 3 z Cram. But by your favour, signior, which of the servants is it? because we'll punish justly. Fust. Marry, 'tis the head man; you shall taste him by his tongue. A pretty tail, prating fellow, with a Tuscalonian beard. Poli. Tuscalonian! very good. Fust. Cods life! I was ne'er so thrumbed since I was a gentleman; my coxcomb was dry-beaten, as if my hair had been hemp. Cram. We'll dry-beat some of them. Fust. Nay, it grew so high, that my sister cried murder out very manfully. I have her consent, in a manner, to have him peppered, else I'll not do't to win more than ten cheaters do at a rifling. Break but his pate, or so, only his mazer; 63 because I'll have his head in a cloth as well as mine; he's a linen-draper, and may take enough I could enter my action of battery against him, but we may, perhaps, be both dead and rotten before the lawyers would end it. Crum. No more to do, but insconce yourself i'the tavern. Provide no great cheer; a couple of capons, some pheasants, plovers, and orangadopie, or so.-But how bloody soe'er the day be, sally you not forth. Fust. No, no; nay, if I stir, somebody shall stink. I'll not budge; I'll he like a dog in a manger. Crum. Well, well, to the tavern; let not our supper be raw, for you shall have blood enough; your belly full. Fust. That's all, so God sa' me, I thirst after; blood for blood, bump for bumb, nose for nose, head for head, plaster for plaster, and so farewell. What shall I call your names; because I'll leave word, if any such come to the bar? Cram. My name is corporal Crambo. Cram. Poli is as tall a man as ever opened oysters: I would not be the devil to meet Poli. Farewell. Enter CANDIDO's Wife, in her Shop, and the two 'Prentices. Wife. What's a clock now? 2 Pren. 'Tis almost twelve. Wife. That's well. The senate will leave wording presently: But is George ready? 2 Pren. Yes, forsooth, he's furbisht. Wife. Now, as you ever hope to win my fa vour, Throw both your duties and respects on him 2 'Pren. I warrant you, mistress, let us alone for keeping our countenance: for, if I list, there is never a fool in all Milan shall make me laugh, let him play the fool never so like an ass; whether it be the fat court-fool, or the lean cityfool. Wife. Enough, then, call down George. 2 'Pren. I hear him coming. How courtesy would become him—Gallantly! Beshrew my blood, a proper seemly man; Of a choice carriage, walks with a good port. George. I thank you, mistress; my back's broad enough, now my master's gown's on. Wife. Sure I should think it were the least of sin, To mistake the master, and to let him in. George. Twere a good comedy of errors that, i'faith. 2 'Pren. 65 Whist, whist; my master! Enter CANDIDO, and exit presently. Wife. You all know your task.-God's my life, what's that he has got upon his back? who can tell? George. That can I, but I will not. Wife. Girt about him like a madman! what, has he lost his cloak too? This is the maddest fashion that e'er I saw. What said he, George, when he passed by thee? George. Troth, mistress, nothing: not so much as a bee, he did not hum; not so much as a bawd, he did not hem; not so much as a cuckold, he did not ha: neither hum, hem, nor ha; only stared me in the face, past along, and made haste in, as if my looks had worked with him to give him a stool. Wife. Sure he's vext now, this trick has moved his spleen; He's angered now, because he uttered nothing; And wordless wrath breaks out more violent, 63 Only his mazer,-So, in Dekkar's Wonderfull Yeare, 1603: " -thinking the cannes had yes about, cryed, Zoundes! what do you mean to cracke my mazer ?" The term is even yet in vulgar use, for the face. 6+ Be ready with your legs, i. e. with your bows. See Note 20 to The Parson's Wedding. 65 Whist, whist.-Be silent. See Mr Steevens's Note to Tempest, A. I. S. 2. But, if thou lovest me, George, afford him none. George. Nay, let me alone to play my master's prize, as long as my mistress warrants me: I am sure I have his best clothes on, and I scorn to give place to any that is inferior in apparel to me; that's an axiom, a principle, and is observed as much as the fashion. Let that persuade you, then, that I'll shoulder with him for the upper hand in the shop, as long as this chain will maintain it. Wife. Spoke with the spirit of a master, though with the tongue of a 'prentice. Enter CANDIDO like a 'Prentice. Why, how now, madman? what, in your tricksicoats? Cand. O, peace, good mistress. Enter CRAMBO and POLI. See what you lack, what is't you buy? pure callicoes, fine hollands, choice cambricks, neat lawns: see, what you buy. Pray come near, my master will use you well, he can afford you a pennyworth. Wife. Aye, that he can, out of a whole piece of lawn, i'faith. Cand. Pray, see your choice here, gentlemen. Wife. O fine fool! what a madman, a patient madman? who ever heard of the like? Well, sir, I'll fit you and your humour presently: what, cross-points? I'll untie 'em all in a trice, I'll vex you, faith!-Boy, take your cloak; quick, come. [Exit. Cand. Be covered, George; this chain, and welted gown, 66 Bare to this coat? Then the world's upside down. Cram. That's the shop, and there's the fellow. Poli. 'Sblood, dost long to lie in limbo? Cram. No, sir, some shirting. Cram. Have you none of this striped canvass> for double s? Cand. None striped, sir, but olain. 2 'Pren. I think there be on piece striped within. George. Step, sirrah, and fetch it; hum, hum, hum. Cand. Look you, gentlemen, I'll make but one spreading; here's a piece of cloth. fine, yet shall wear like iron. 'Tis without fault; take this upon my word; 'tis without fault. Cram. Then 'tis better than you, sirrah. Cand. Aye, and a number more. O that each Were but as spotless as this innocent white, Cram. 'Twould have some, then.-There was a fray here last day in this shop. Cand. There was indeed a little flea biting. Poli. A gentleman had his pate broke; call you that but a flea-biting? Cand. He had 30. Cram. Zowns, do you stand in't? [He strikes him. George. 'Sfoot, clubs, clubs! 'prentices, down with 'em! Ab, you rogues, strike a citizen in's shop? Cand. None of you stir, I pray; forbear, good George. Cram. I beseech you, sir; we mistook our marks; deliver us our weapons. George. Your head bleeds, sir; cry, clubs. Cand. I say, you shall not; pray be patient. Give them their weapons: Sirs, you'd best be gone; I tell you, here are boys more tough than bears; Cand. You shall not follow them: Let them alone, pray, this did me no harm; Pray use 'em well when they appear again. George. Yes, sir, we'll use 'em like honest men. Cand. Aye, well said, George; like honest 66 Welted gown.-Barret, in his Alvearie, voce gard, explains the word as synonymous with purfle, or well. A welled gown is, therefore, one ornamented with purfles or fringe. They are often mentioned in ancient writers. Green's History of Fryer Bacon, 1630, Sign. H 3: "I warrant you, he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see; marke you, masters, here's a plain honest man without well or gard." Ben Jonson's Epicæne, A. 4. S 7: “Do not fear me. Clap but a civil gown with a welt o'the one, and a canonical cloak with sleeves o'the other," &c. Green's Quip for an upstart Courtier, 1592: "Presentlie, loking about for more, comes stalking down an aged grave Sir, in a blacke velvet coat, and a black cloth gowne, welted and faced." Ibid." I saw five fat fellowes, all in damaske cotes and gownes, welted with velvet, verie brave." Dekkar's Belman's Night-walkes, Sign. D 4: “ - thou shalt meete rich drunkards under welted gowns.' -- men, though they be arrant knaves; for that's the praise of the city.-Help to lay up these wares. Enter his Wife, with Officers. Wife. Yonder he stands. Offi. What, in a 'prentice coat? Wife. Aye, aye, mad, mad; pray take heed. Cand. How now! what news with them? what make they with my wife? Officers! is she attached? Look to your wares. Wife. He talks to himself! Oh, he's much gone, indeed! Offi. Pray, pluck up a good heart, be not so fearful. Sirs, heark, we'll gather to him by degrees. Wife. Aye, aye, by degrees, I pray: oh, me! what makes he with the lawn in his hand? he'll tear all the ware in my shop. Offi. Fear not, we'll catch him on a sudden. Wife. O, you had need do so. Pray take heed of your warrant. Offi. I warrant, mistress.-Now, Signior Can dido. Oh, he's Cand. Now, sir, what news with you, sir? Wife. What news with you, he says. far gone! Offi. I pray, fear nothing; let's alone with him. Signior, you look not like yourself, methinks; (Steal you at t'other side;) you are changed, you're altered. Cand. Changed, sir? why, true, sir. Is change strange? 'tis not the fashion, unless it alter. Monarchs turn to beggars; beggars creep into the nests of princes; masters serve their 'prentices; ladies their serving-men; men turn to women. Oft. And women turn to men. Cand. Are you at leisure now? well, what's the matter? Why do I enter into bonds thus ? ha? Offi. Because you're mad; put fear upon your wife. Wife. Oh, ay; I went in danger of my life every minute! Cand. What? am I mad say you, and I not know it? Offi. That proves you mad, because you know it not. Wife. Pray talk as little to him as you can; You see he's too far spent. Cand. Bound with strong cord? A silver thread, i'faith, had been enough Geo. But are you mad, indeed, master? And what she says, George, is all truth, you know : And whither now? to Bethlem monast'ry?—ha ! whither? Offi. Faith, e'en to the madmen's pound. Cand. A God's name: still I feel my patience sound. [Ereunt. Geo. Come, we'll see whither he goes. If the master be mad, we are his servants, and must follow his steps; we'll be mad-caps too. Farewell, mistress; you shall have us all in Bedlam. [Exeunt. Wife. I think I ha' fitted now you and your clothes; If this move not his patience, nothing can; SCENE XII. [ Erit. Cand. Aye, and women turn to men; you say Enter DUKE, DOCTOR, FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, true: ha, ha a mad world, a mad world! me. Offi. Have we caught you, sir? Cand. Caught me? well, well, you have caught Wife. He laughs in your faces. George. A rescue, 'prentices! my master's catch-poled. Offi. I charge you keep the peace, or have your legs gartered with irons. We have from the duke a warrant strong enough for what we do. Cand. I pray rest quiet; I desire no rescue. Wife. La! he desires no rescue; 'las, poor heart! He talks against himself. Cand. Well, what's the matter? Pray, make sure work; double the cord. Wife. Look, how his head goes! should he get but loose, Oh, 'twere as much as all our lives were worth. Offi. Fear not, we'll make sure for our own safety. PIORATTO. |