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SCENE I.

Enter Montague and Charlotte.

ACT V.

Charl. WELL, now, I'm sure you're mine.

Mont. I'm sure I'm glad

I've one to own then: you will find me honest, As these days go, enough; poor without question,

Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat, And I shall do my work, else knock my shoes And turn me out again.

Charl. You are a merry fellow.

[off,

Mont. I have no great cause.

Charl. Yes, thy love to me.

Mont. That's as we make our game. Charl. Why, you repent then?

[be;

Mont. Faith, no; worse than I am I cannot Much better I expect not: I shall love you, And, when you bid me go to bed, obey, Lie still or move, as you shall minister; Keep a four-nobles nag, and a Jack-Merlin31, Learn to love ale, and play at two-hand Irish; And there's then all I aim at.

Charl. Nay, sweet fellow, I'll make it something better. Mont. If you do,

You'll make me worse:

Now I am poor, and willing to do well, Hold me in that course! of all the king's creatures,

[me! I hate his coin: keep me from that, and save For if you chance, out of your housewifery, To save a hundred pound or two52, bestow it In plumb-broth ere I know it; else I take it, Seek out a hundred men that want this money, Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble MonAnd so I stand again at livery! [tague!

Charl. You've pretty fancies, sir; but, married once,

This charity will fall home to yourself.

Mont. I would it would! I am afraid my looseness [work on Is yet scarce stopt, tho' it have nought to But the mere air of what I have had.

[marry me ;

Charl. Pretty! Mont. I wonder, sweetheart, why you'll I can see nothing in myself deserves it, Unless the handsome wearing of a band, For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters, Necessity will not let me lose.

Charl. I see, sir,

[band,

A great deal more; a handsome man, a husTo make a right good woman truly happy.

51 Keep a four-nobles nag, and a Jack

Mont. Lord, where are my eyes? Either you are foolish,

As wenches once a year are, or far worse, Extremely virtuous: can you love a poor man That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings, One only suit to his back, which now is inewing,

[Tristram? But what will be the next coat will pose If I should levy from my friends a fortune, I could not raise ten groats to pay the priest (money Charl. I'll do that duty: 'tis not means nor Makes me pursue your love; were your mind I would ne'er love you. [bankrupt,

now.

Enter Lamira.

Mont. Peace, wench! here's my lady. Lam. Nay, never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence!

D'ye find her willing, Montague?

Mont. Willing, madam?

[I know Lam. How dainty you make of it! Do not You two love one another?

Mont. Certain, madam,

I think ye've revelations of these matters: Yourladyship cannot tell me when I kiss'd her. Lum. But she can, sir.

Mont. But she will not, madam ;

For when they talk once, 'tis like fairy-money,
They get no more close kisses.
Lam. Thou art wanton.

Mont. Heav'n knows I need not; yet I
would be lusty;

But,by mysoul,my provender scarce pricks me. Lam. It shall be mended, Montague: I'm You're grown so merry.

Mont. So am I too, madam.

[glad

Lam. You two 'will make a pretty handsome

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Merling; i. e. Turn talk'ner, a Merlin, being a species of hawk. The measure was all confus'd in the former editions.

The first folio reads, BLACK Merling.

Seward.

52 To leave a hundred pound.] So former editions.

The

The wealth I get henceforward shall be charmı'd

For ever hurting me; I'll spend it fasting. As I live, noble lady, there is nothing, I've found, directly cures the melancholy, But want and wedlock: when I had store of money, [wise,

I simper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous
But never laugh'd out-right; now I am empty,
My heart sounds like a bell, and strikes at
both sides.

Lam. You're finely temper'd, Montague.
Mont. Pardon, lady,

If any way my free mirth have offended!
'Twas meant to please you; if it prove too

saucy,

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(And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger) In ready gold for this concealment, could not Buy my hope of her. She's a dainty wench, And such a one I find I want extremely, To bring me into credit: beauty does it. Mal. Say we should all meach here, and stay the feast now, [knaves; What can the worst be? We have play'd the That's without question.

La-P. True; and, as I take it, [and This is the first truth we told these ten years, For any thing I know, may be the last: But, grant we're knaves, both base and beastMal. Say so then. [ly knaves

Lav. Well.

La-P. And likewise

Let it be consider'd, we have wrong'd, And most maliciously, this gentlewoman We cast to stay with, what must we expect now? [pect good eating. Mal. Ay, there's the point; we would exLa-P. I know we would, but we may find good beating. [soul, Lav. You say true, gentlemen; and by my

Tho' I love meat as well as any man, I care not what he be, if a beat a God's name54, [palate. Such crab-sauce to my meat will turn my Mal. There's all the hazard; for the frozen Montague

[him, Has now got spring again and warmth in And, without doubt, dares beat us terribly. For, not to mince the matter, we are cowards, And have, and shall be beaten, when men To call us into cudgeling. [please

La-P. I feel We're very prone

that way.

Lav. The sons of Adam.

[question;

La-P. Now, here then rests the state o'th'
Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner
To a sound dog-whip (for, I promise ye,
If men be given to correction,

We can expect no less), or quietly
Take a hard egg or two, and ten mile hence
Bait in a ditch? this we may do securely;
For, to stay hereabout will be all one,

If once our moral mischiefs come in memory. Mal. But, pray ye hear me: is not this the day

53 Meach.] See note 55 on the Scornful Lady. 54 If a eat a God's name.] The sense requires

The virgin lady doth elect her husband? Lav. The dinner is to that end.

Mal. Very well then;

[whipping, Say we all stay, and say we all 'scape this And be well entertain'd, and one of us Carry the lady!

La-P. 'Tis a seemly saying,

I must confess; but if we stay, how fitly
We may apply it to ourselves (i'th' end)
Will ask a Christian fear: I cannot see,
If I say true, what special ornaments
Of art or nature (lay aside our lying,
Whoring and drinking, which are no great
virtues)

We are endued withal, to win this lady.
Mal. Yet women go not by the best parts
That I have found directly.
[ever;

Lav. Why should we fear then?
They chuse men as they feed: sometimes
they settle
[gallant,
Upon a white-broth'd face, a sweet smooth
And him they make an end of in a night;
Sometimes a goose; sometimes a grosser meat,
A rump of beef, will serve 'em at some season,
And fill their bellies too, tho' without doubt
They're great devourers; stock-fish is a dish,
If it be well dress'd, for the toughness' sake
Will make the proudest of 'em long and leap
for't;
[starve.
They'll run mad for a pudding, ere they'll
La-P. For my own part, I care not, come

what can come;

[so,

If I be whipt, why so be it! if cudgell'd,
I hope I shall out-live it: I am sure
'Tis not the hundredth time I have been serv'd
And yet, I thank Heav'n, I'm here.
Mal. Here's resolution!

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La-P. A little patience, and a rotten apple, [sir? Cures twenty worse diseases: what say you, Lav. Marry, I say, sir, if I had been acquainted [been, With lamming55 in my youth, as you have With whipping, and such benefits of nature, I should do better; as I am, I'll venture: And if it be my luck to have the lady, I'll use my fortune modestly; if beaten, You shall not bear a word; one I am sure of, And if the worse fall, she shall be my physick. Let's go then, and a merry wind be with us! Mal. Captain, your shoes are old; pray put e'm off,

And let one fing 'em after us. Be bold, sirs; And howsoe'er our fortune falls, let's bear An equal burden! if there be an odd lash, We'll part it afterwards.

La-P. I'm arm'd at all points. [Exeunt. Enter four Servants, with a Banquet.

1 Serv. Then my lady will have a bedfellow to-night? [arm-full

2 Serv. So she says: Heav'n, what a dainty Shall he enjoy, that has the launching of her! What a fight she will make!

3 Serv. Ay, marry, boys, [grappling! There will be sport indeed! there will be She has a murderer lies in her prow,

I am afraid will fright his main-mast, Robin. 4 Serv. Who dost thou think shall have her, of thy conscience?

Thou art a wise man.

3 Serv. If she go the old way, The way of lot, the longest cut sweeps all Without question.

1 Serv. She has lost a friend of me else. What think ve of the courtier?

2 Serv. Hang him, hedge-hog! [phues", 'has nothing in him but a piece of EnAnd twenty dozen of twelvepenny ribband, all

About him; he is but one pedlar's shop Of gloves and garters, pick-teeth and pomander.

3 Serv. The courtier! marry, God bless her, Steven, she is not

Mad yet; she knows that trindle-tail too well; He's crest-fallen, and pin-buttock'd, with leaping laundresses.

55 Lamming; i. e. Beating.

4 Serv. The merchant? sure she will not To have him. [be so base 1 Serv. I hope so; Robin, he'll sell us all To th'Moors to make mummy. Nor the captain?

4 Serv. Who? potgun? that's a sweet Will he stay, think ye? [youth, indeed! 3 Serv. Yes, without question,

And have half din'd too ere the grace be done. He's good for nothing in the world but eating, Lying and sleeping; what other men devour In drink he takes in pottage: they say h'has been

At sea; a herring-fishing, for without doubt He dares not bail an cel-boat, i'th' way of war.

2 Serv. I think so; they would beat him off with butter.

3 Serv. When he brings in a prize, unless
it be

Cockles, or Calais sand to scour with,
I'll renounce my five mark a-year,
And all the hidden art I have in carving,
To teach young birds to whistle Walsing-
ham58:

Leave him to the lime-boats! Now, what
Of the brave Amiens?
[think you

1 Serv. That's a thought indeed. [feed 2 Serc. Ay, marry, there's a person fit to Upon a dish so dainty; and he'll do't,

I warrant him, i'th' nick, boys; h'has a body World without end.

4 Serv. And such a one my lady Will make no little of. But is not Montague Married to-day?

3 Serv. Yes, faith, honest Montague Must have his bout too.

2 Serv. He's as good a lad

As ever turn'd a trencher: must we leave him?

3 Serv. He's too good for us, Steven. I'll
give him health

To his good luck to-night i'th' old beaker,
And it shall be sack too.

4 Serv. I must have a garter; And, boys, I have bespoke a posset; somebody

Shall give me thanks for't! 't has a few toys

in't

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57 A piece of Euphues.] Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit, was the title of a romance wrote by Lilly, author of several plays in queen Elizabeth's reign. His stile was stiff, pedantic, and affected, but was in such vogue that Mr Blount, who published six of his plays, says, that Lilly's Euphues and his England taught the court a new language, and the lady who could not parle Euphuism was as little regarded as she that now there speaks not French. Here is a banter upon the court for this practice; but it would much have improved it if Laverdine had frequently made use of this affected stile, and Euphuism had made part of his character through the whole play. The account of Lilly is taken from Mr. Dodsley's Preface to his Collection of Old Plays, and Mr. Sympson quotes it also from Langbain. Seward. 58 To whistle Walsingham.] Walsingham, in Norfolk, a place formerly famous for the pilgrimages to the rood, or cross, of Our Lady there.

R.

Enter

Enter Orleans and Duchess, arm in arm,
Amiens, Lamira, Charlotte like a bride,
Montague brave, Laverdine, Longueville,
Dubois, Mallicorn, and La-Poop.

Lam. Seat yourselves, noble lords and
gentlemen;

You know your places. Many royal welcomes
I give your grace! How lovely shews this
change!

My house is honour'd in this reconcilement.
Orl. Thus, madam, must you do;
My lady now shall see you made a woman,
And give you some short lessons for your
voyage.

Take her instructions, lady; she knows much.
Lam. This becomes you, sir.

Duch. My lord must have his will.

Orl. 'Tis all I can do now, sweetheart.
Fair lady,

This to your happy choice!-Brother Amiens,
You are the man I mean it to.

Ami. I'll pledge you.

Orl. And with my heart.

Ami. With all my love I take it,

Lam. Noble lords,

I'm proud ye've done this day so much content,
And me such estimation, that this hour
(In this poor house) shall be a league for ever;
For so I know ye mean it.

Ami. Io, lady.

Orl. And I, my lord.

Omnes. You've done a work of honour. Ami. Give me the cup! Where this health stops, let that man

Be either very sick or very simple;

Or I am very angry. Sir, to you!

Madam, methinks this gentleman might sit too;
He would become the best on's.

Orl. Pray sit down, sir:

I know the lady of the feast expects not
This day so much old custom.

Lam. Sit down, Montague!
Nay, never blush for th' matter.
Mont. Noble madam,

I have two reasons 'gainst it, and I dare not:
Duty to you first, as you are my lady,
And I your poorest servant; next, the custom
Of this day's ceremony.

Lam. As you are my servant,
I may command you then?
Mont. To my life, lady.

Lam. Sit down, and here! I'll have it so.
Ami. Sit down, man;

Never refuse so fair a lady's offer.

Mont. It is your pleasure, madam, not
my pride,

And I obey. I'll pledge you now, my lord.
Monsieur Longueville!

Long. I thank you, sir.
Mont. This to my lady,

And her fair choice to-day, and happiness!
Long. 'Tis a fair health; I'll pledge you,
tho' I sink for't.

[I'll add Lam. Montague, you are too modest: come, A little more wine t' you; 'twill make you This to the good I wish you!

Mont. Honour'd lady,

[merry.

I shall forget myself with this great bounty.
Lam. You shall not, sir. Give him some
Ami. By Heav'n,

[wine.
You are a worthy woman; and that man
Is blest can come near such a lady.

Lam. Such a blessing
Wet weather wishes 59.

Mont. At all! I'll not go
A lip less, my lord.

Orl. 'Tis well cast, sir.
Mal. If Montague

Get more wine, we are like to hear of it.
Lav. I do not like that sitting there.
Mal. Nor I;

Methinks he looks like a judge.

La-P. Now have I

A kind of grudging of a beating on me;
I fear my hot fit.

Mal. Drink apace; there's nothing
Allays a cudgel like it.

Lam. Montague, now

I'll put my choice to you: who do you hold,
In all this honour'd company, a husband
Fit to enjoy thy lady? speak directly.
Mont. Shall I speak, madam?

Lam. Montague, you shall.

Mont. Then, as I have a soul, I'll speak my

conscience.

Give me more wine! in vino veritas:
Here's to myself, and—

59 Such a blessing wet weather washes.] I believe an extreme genteel answer of Lamira's has been turned into absolute nonsense in all the editions, by the odd connection of the printer's or transcriber's ideas between wet weather and washing. Instead of receiving Amiens's compliment in the sense he meant it, of the man being blest who should come near, 2. e. marry and enjoy Lamira; she answers, a traveller caught in a shower of rain might indeed wish such a blessing, i. e, of coming near me, as I have a warm house to receive him. 'Tis the great excellency of poetry to express this so concisely by personating wet weather, and making that instead of the traveller be the wisher of this blessing. But this being probably above the transcriber's reach, he altered it into the nonsensical reading of the late Much the greatest part of this scene, as well as the greatest part of the play in general, was either printed as prose, or when the measure was attempted, and the lines ranged as verse, most of them were wrong. Seward.

text.

6° Here's to myself, and Montague have a care.] This whole line has been hitherto given to Montague, not sure with much propriety. It is much more so to make Lamira check him, and this is a reason for his immediately quitting his self-recommendation.

Seward.

Lam.

Lam. Montague, have a care!

Speak to the cause:

Mont. Yes, madam.

First, I'll begin to thee!
Lav. Have at us!

La-P. Now for a psalm of mercy!

Mont. You, good monsieur,

You that belie the noble name of courtier, And think your claim good here, hold up your hand!

Your worship is indicted here for a
Vainglorious fool—

Lav, Good! oh, sir!

Mont. For one whose wit

Lies in a ten-pound waistcoat, yet not warm. You've travell'd like a fidler to make faces, And brought home nothing but a case of toothpicks.

You would be married, and no less than ladies, And of the best sort, can serve you! Thou silk-worm,

manners,

What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman? Name but the poorest piece of man, good [hast none; There's nothing sound about thee; faith, th' It lies pawn'd at thy silk-man's, for so much lace

Thy credit with his wife cannot redeeın it1; Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting, [christen'd

Let who will take the other; thou wert ne'er (Upon my conscience) but in barber's water; Thou art ne'er out o' th' bason, thou art rotten, And, if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt con-Thy skin [fess it; Looks of a chesnut colour, greaz'd with amber;

All women that on earth do dwell thou lov'st, Yet none that understand love thee again, But those that love the spital. Get thee home,

Poor painted butterfly! thy summer's past. Go, sweat, and eat dry mutton; thou may'st live

To do so well yet, a bruis'd chambermaid
May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies.
You have your sentence!-Now it follows,
I treat of you.
[captain,

La-P. Pray Heav'n I may deserve it!
Orl. Beshrew my heart, he speaks plain.
Ami. That's plain dealing.

Mont. You are a rascal, captain!
La-P. A fine calling.

Mont. A water-coward!

Ami. He would make a pretty stuff.
Mont. May I speak freely, madam?
Lam. Here's none ties you.

Mont. Why shouldst thou dare come hither with a thought

To find a wife here fit for thee? are all
Thy single-money whores, that fed on carrots,

And fill'd the high grass with familiars, Fall'n off to footmen? Prithee tell me truly, (For now I know thou dar'st not lie) couldst thou not

Wish thyself beaten well with all thy heart now,
And out of pain? say that I broke a rib,
Or cut thy nose off, were't not merciful
For this ambition?

La-P. Do your pleasure, sir;

Beggars must not be chusers.

Orl. He longs for beating.

Mont. But that I have nobler thoughts possess my soul,

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Than such brown biscuit, such a piece of dogSuch a most mangy mackrel-eater as thou art, That dares do nothing that belongs to th'sea But spew and catch rats, and fear men of war, Tho' thou hast nothing in the world to lose Aboard thee, but one piece of beef, one [barrelWithout a cock for peace-sake, and a pitchI'll tell thee, if any time were not more precious

musquet

Than thus to lose it, I would rattle thee,
It may be beat thee, and thy pure fellow,
The merchant there of catskins, till my words,
Or blows, or both, made ye two branded
wretches

[too To all the world hereafter! You would fain Venture your bills of lading for this lady: What would you give now for her? Some five frail

[sir?

Of rotten figs, good Godson, would you not, Or a parrot that speaks High-Dutch? Can all thou ever saw'st

Of thine own fraughts from sea, or cozenage (At which thou art as expert as the devil), Nay, sell thy soul for wealth too, as thou wilt do,

Forfeit thy friends, and raise a mint of money, Make thee dream all these double could pro

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61 Thy credit with his wife cannot, &c.] First folio exhibits, Thy credit which is worse

cannot, &c.

Mont.

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