)wA Tx> THE WORKS OF BEN JONSON. A H <1 THE WORKS O F BEN JONSON, IN NINE VOLUMES. WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY, AND A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR, By W. GIFFORD, Esq. The Muses' fairest light in no dark time ; The wonder of a learned age ; the line Which none can pass ; the most proportion'd wit, To nature, the best judge of what was fit ; The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest pen ; The voice most echo'd by consenting men ; The soul which answer'd best to all well said By others, and which most requital made. Cleveland. VOLUME THE SIXTH. CONTAINING THE MAGNETIC LADY. A TALE OF A TUB. THE SAD SHEPHERD. THE CASE IS ALTERED. ENTERTAINMENTS, &c. LONDON: PRINTED FOB G. AND W. NICOL ; F. C. AND J. RIVINGTON J CADELL AND DAVIES ; LONGMAN AND CO. ; LACK.INGTON AND CO. J R. H.EVANS J J.MURRAY; J. MAWMAN ; J. CUTHELL J J. BLACK J BALDWIN AND CO.; RODWELL AND MARTIN ; AND R. SAUNDERS; By W. Bulmer and Co. Cleveland-row, St. James' t. 1816. v. 6 THE MAGNETIC LADY; OR, HUMOURS RECONCILED. VOL. VI. B i< ,35 Tins Magnetic Lady.] This comedy was brought out at the Black Friars in 1632, the license for performing it bearing date the 12th October of that year. " It was generally accounted (Lan^baine says) an excellent play, though, in the poet's days, it found some enemies." So indeed did every thing written by Jonson ; for "the envious Ben,'' (who was nevertheless more liberal, not to say lavish, of his praise than any writer before or since his time,) was unremittingly pursued by a hostile party who sickened at his triumphs, and insulted over his calamities. Among Howell's Letters there is one to our author, which notices this play. " Father Ben. Nullum Jit magnum ingenium sinemixtura dementia, there's no great wit without some mixture of madness, so saith the philosopher, nor was he a fool who answered, nee parvum sine mixtura stultiti^e, nor small wit without some allay of fool- ishness. Touching the first it is verified in you, for I. find that you have been oftentimes mad : you were mad when you writ your Fbx, and madder when you writ your Alchemist ; you were, mad when you writ Catiline, and stark mad when you writ Sejanus ; but when you writ your Epigrams, and the Magnetic Lady, you were not so mad. Insomuch that I perceive there be degrees of madness in you. Excuse me that I am so free with you. The madness 1 mean is that divine fury, that heating and heightening spirit which Ovid speaks of." This letter, which is dated West. 17th Jan. 1629, nearly two years previous to the date already assigned to the Magnetic Lady, might contribute to wcakeu our confidence in the official documents of sir II Herbert, were not the discrepancy satis- factorily accounted for by Oldys. He tells us, in his manuscript notes to Langbaine, that Howell first published his letters without any dates, and that when he attempted to subjoin them, in his subsequent editions, he confounded the time : " hence," says he, " so many errors in their dates.'' There is yet another circumstance to be mentioned respecting this play. On its first appearance it gave great offence by its oaths. For these, the actors were called before the High Com- mission Court, and severely censured. As the author was sick in bed, they boldly laid the fault on him ; Jonson, however, completely justified himself from this atrocious charge, as did the Master of the Revels, on whom they had next the audacity to lay it ; and the players then " humbly confessed, that they had themselves interpolated the offensive passages." For this curious circumstance; which is important on many accounts, we are indebted to the Office-book of sir Henry Herbert. See Shak. Vol. II. p. 380. The Magnetic Lady was first published in the second fol. and bears date 1640, three years, at least, after Jonson's death : when the editor, as I should have remarked of all the plays collected in that volume, had forgotten how the author spelt his name. It had originally this motto subjoined to the title, to which it is not ill adapted, Jam lapides suus ardor agit , ferrumque .tenetur Illecebris . Claud, de Magnet. B2 DRAMATIS PERSONjE. Compass, a scholar mathematic. Captain Ironside, his brother, a soldier. Parson Palate, prelate of the parish* Rut, physician to Lady Loadstone. Tim. Item, his apothecary. Sir Diaphanous Silkworm, a courtier. Practice, a lawyer. Sir Moth Interest, an usurer, or money-bawd. Bias, a vi-politic, or sub -secretary. Needle, the lady's steward and tailor. Lady Loadstone, the Magnetic Lady, Polish, her gossip and she-parasite. Placentia, her niece. Pleasance, her waiting-woman. Keep, the niece's nurse. Chair, the midwife. Servant to sir Moth, Serjeants, 8$c. The Chorus (Prohee, Dam play, and Boy of the house) byway of Induction. SCENE, London. THE INDUCTION, OR CHORUS. The Stage. Enter Master Probee and Master Damplay, met by a Boy of the house. Boy. What do you lack, 1 gentlemen, what is't you lack ? any fine fancies, figures, humours, cha- racters, ideas, definitions of lords and ladies ? Wait- ing-women, parasites, knights, captains, courtiers, lawyers ? what do you lack ? Pro. A pretty prompt boy for the poetic shop ! Dam. And a bold ! Where's one oj your masters, sirrah, the poet ? Boy. Which of them, sir f we have divers that drive that trade, now ; poets, poetaccios, poetasters, poetitos Dam. And all haberdashers of small wit, I pre- sume ; we would speak with the poet of the day. boy. Boy. Sir, he is not here. % But I have the domi- 1 What do you lack ?] The boy uses the language of the petty traders of the time, and the others continue the allusion. * Sir, he is not here.'] Jonson always attend* d the first pre- sentation of bis pieces, when it was in his power. He was now bed.ridden : his last appearance in the theatre seems to hare been in 1625, when the Staple of News was brought forward. 6 < THE INDUCTION. nion of the shop, for this time, under him, and can shew you all the variety the stage will afford for the present. Pro. Therein you will express your own good parts, boy. Dam. And tie us two to you for the gentle office. Pro. We are a pair of public persons (this gen- tleman and myself) that are sent thus coupled unto you, upon state business. Boy. It concerns but the state of the stage, I hope. Dam. O, you shall know that by degrees, boy. No man leaps into a business of state, without fording first the state of the business. Pro. We are sent unto you, indeed, from the people. Boy. The people I which side of the people ? Dam. The venison side, if you know it, boy. Boy. That's the left side. I had rather they had been the right. Pro. So they are. Not the faces, or grounds of your people, that sit in the oblique caves and wedges of your house, your sinful six-penny mechanics Dam. But the better and braver sort of your people, plush and velvet outsides ! that stick your house round like so many eminences Boy Of clothes, not understandings ! they are at pawn. Well, 1 take these as a part of your people though ; what bring you to me from these people f Dam. You have heard, boy, the ancient poets had it in their purpose, ttill to please this people. Pro. Ay, their chief ' aim was Dam. Populo ut placerent : if he understands so much. Boy. Quasfecissent fabulas. I understand tftat since 1 learn d Terence, in the third form at West- minster : go on, sir. Pro. Now, these people have employed us to you, in all their names, to entreat an excellent ploy J rom you. THE INDUCTION. 7 Dam. For they have had very mean ones from thit shop of late, the stage as you call it. Boy. Troth, gentlemen, I have no wares which I dare thrust upon the people with praise. But this, such as it is, I will venture with your people, your gay gallant people : so as you, again, will undertake for them, that they shall know a good play when they hear it ; and will have the conscience and ingenuity beside to confess it. Pro. We'll pass our words for that ; you shall have a brace of us to engage ourselves. Boy, You'll tender your names, gentlemen, to our book then ? Dam. Yes ; here's master Probee, a man of most powerful speech, and parts to persuade. Pro. And master Damplay will make good all he undertakes. Boy. Good master Probee, and master Damplay ! I like your securities : whence do you write your- selves? Pro. Of London, gentlemen ; but knights 1 bro- thers, and knights' friends, I assure you. Dam. And knights fellows too : every poet writes squire now. Boy. You are good names ! very good men, both of you ; I accept you. Dam. And what is the title of your play here. The Magnetic Lady ? Boy. Yes, sir, an attractive title the author has given it. Pro. A magnete, I warrant you. Dam. O no, from magnus, magna, magnum. Boy. 2 his gentleman hath found the true magni- tude Dam. Of his portal or entry to the work, according to Vitruvius. 8 THE INDUCTION. Boy. Sir, all our work is done without a portal, ' or Vitruvius. In foro, as a true comedy should be. And what is conceal 'd within, is brought out f and made present by report. Dam. We see not that always observed by your authors of these times ; or scarce any other. Boy. Where it is nut at all known, how should it be observed f The most of those your people call au- thors, never dreamt of any decorum, or what was proper in the scene ; but grope at it in the dark, and feel or jumble for it r I speak it, both with their leave, and the leave of your people. Dam. But, why Humours Reconciled, I would fain knozv ? Boy. / can satisfy you there too, if you will. But perhaps you desire not to be satisfied. Dam. No I why should you conceive so, boy ? Boy. My conceit is not ripe yet ; Til tell you that anon. The author beginning his studies of this kind, with Every Man in his Humour; 4 and after, ' Without a portal, or Vitruvivs.~\ This simple passage, in which the boy merely repeats the terms of the preceding speech, affords a curious specimen of the spirit in which our author is read. Alter portal, an accidental break occurs in the folio, just sufficient to contain one letter ; this, Dr. Farmer (the most liberal of critics,) seriously proposes to fill up with the name of Inigo Jones, M because Jonson seems to have levelled a sneer at him in this place "! The author beginning his studies of this kind, with Every Man in his Humour.'] We must except those pieces which were offered to the stage before that play, and which did not succeed so well. The Case is altered has, I think, plain marks of being one of his earlier compositions. VViial. Had Whalley already forgotten that the second title of this play is Humours Rixoncii o ! To this Jonson alludes. Mr. Malonc, who probably never read more of the Magnetic Lady than this quotation, makes a notable use of it. Jonson, he says, admits that Every Man in his Humour was h\$ first play, and as this was brought out by Shakspeare, to whose kind intervention THE INDUCTION. 9 Every Man out of his Humour; and since, con' tinning in all his plays, especially those of the comic thread, whereof the New Inn was the last, some recent humours still, or manners of men, that went along with the times ; finding himself now near the close, or shutting up of his circle, hath fancied to himself, in idea, this Magnetic Mistress : a lady, a brave bountiful house-keeper, and a virtuous widow; who having a young niece, ripe for a man, and mar- riageable, he makes that his centre attractive, to draw thither a diversity oj guests, all persons of different humours to make up his perimeter. And this he hath ca//^Hi'MOURS Reconciled. Pro. A bold undertaking, and far greater than the reconciliation of both churches ; the quarrel betzceen humours having been much the ancienter ; and, in my poor opinion, the root of all schism and faction both in church and commonwealth. Boy. Such is the opinion of many wise men, that meet at this shop still ; but how he will speed in it, we cannot tell, and he himself, it seems, less cares : for he will not be entreated by us, to give it a pro- logue. He has lost too much that way already, he says. He will not woo the gentle ignorance so much? alone Old Ben owed his introduction to the stage, it furnishes a manifest proof of his ingratitude to his benefactor, whom " he persecuted during his life with much clumsy sarcasm, and ma- levolent reflection." This would be very well had it contained one syllable of truth, and had not Mr. Malone himself produced the titles of several pieces written either wholly, or in part by Jonson, previously to the Comedy which he here asserts to be the first of his dramatic efforts. 5 He will not woo, &c] It has been already observed that our poet was a great admirer and imitator of Aristophanes. Under the shelter of his undisputed authority, he probably indulged in many sarcasms on the public taste, which he would not so freely have hazarded on his own. In his comedies, the prwgrandis senex frequently drops the mask, and comes forward (in what the ancient! called the parabasis of the piece) in propria persona, to 10 THE INDUCTION. But careless of all vulgar censure , as not depending on common approbation, he is confident it shall super- please judicious spectators, and to them he leaves it to work with the rest, by example or otherwise. Dam. He may be deceived in that, boy : few fol- low examples now, especially if they be good. Boy. The play is ready to begin, gentlemen ; I tell you, lest you might defraud the expectation of the people, for whom you are delegates : please you take a couple of seats, and plant yourselves, here, as near my standing as you can : fly every thing you see to the mark, and censure it freely ; so you interrupt not the scries or thread of the argument, to break or pucker it, with unnecessary questions. For, I must tell you, (not out of mine own dictamen, but the au- thor s,) a good play is like a skein of silk ; which, if you take by the right end, you may wind off at pleasure, on the bottom or card of your discourse, in a tale or so ; how you will : but if you light on the wrong end, you will pull all into a knot or elf-lock; which nothing but the sheers, or a candle, will undo or separate. assert his own claims to favour, and question the impartiality or the judgment of his hearers. The passage in the text is a pretty close imitation of what Aristophanes urges in the Clouds. *0] ^aipsron' Hv ^ spot x TOJtnv eju-oij eu$pav>jflrd' euf >jju.a-jv, Ej raj u>pas rag sTspots eu Sir Dia. Yes, here's a diamond of some three- score pound, I pray you give her that. Pal. If she will take it. Sir Dia. And there's an emerald for the doctor too : Thou parson, thou shalt coin me ; I am thine. Pal. Here master Compass comes. Enter Compass. Do you see my lady, And all the rest, how they do flutter about him ? He is the oracle of the house and family. Now is your time ; go nick it with the niece : [Exit Sir Dia, I will walk by, and hearken how the chimes go. \Walks aside. Com, Nay, parson, stand not off; you may approach ; This is no such hid point of state we handle, But you may hear it ; for we are all of counsel. r lhe gentle master Practice hath dealt clearly, And nobly with you, madam. 6 Secure you of rkalship.'] i. e. be in no concern, take no thought about it. "VVhal. 42 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Lady L. Have you talk'd with him, And made the overture ? Com. Yes, first I moved The business trusted to me by your ladyship, In your own words, almost your very syllables, Save where my memory trespass'd 'gainst their elegance, For which I hope your pardon. Then I enlarged, In my own homely style, the special goodness And greatness of your bounty in your choice, And free conferring of a benefit So without ends, conditions, any tie But his mere virtue, and the value of it, To call him to your kindred, to your veins, Insert him in your family, and to make him A nephew by the offer of a niece, With such a portion ; which when he had heard, And most maturely acknowledge (as his calling Tends all unto maturity) lie return'd A thanks as ample as the courtesy, In my opinion ; said it was a grace Too great to be rejected or accepted By him : but as the terms stood with his fortune, He was not to prevaricate with your ladyship, But rather to require ingenuous leave, He might with the same love that it was offer'd Refuse it, since he could not with his honesty, (Being he was engaged before,) receive it. Pal. The same he said to me. Com. And named the party ? Pal. He did and he did not. Com. Come, leave your schemes, And fine amphibolies, parson. Pal. You'll hear more. Pol. Why, now your ladyship is free to choose The courtier sir Diaphanous : he shall do it, I'll move it to him myself. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 43 Lady L. What will you move to him ? Pol. The making you a countess. Lady L. Stint, fond woman. Know you the party master Practice means ? Com. No, but your parson says he knows, madam. Lady L. I fear he fables ; parson, do you know Where master Practice is engaged? Pal I'll tell you, But under seal ; her mother must not know : 'Tis with your ladyship's woman, mistress Plea- sance. Com. How ! Lady L. He is not mad ? Pal. O hide the hideous secret From her; she'll trouble all else. You do hold A cricket by the wing. 7 Com. Did he name Pleasance ? Are you sure, parson ? Lady L. O 'tis true, your mistress ! I find where your shoe wrings you, master Com- pass : But you'll look to him there. Com. Yes ; here's sir Moth, Your brother, with his Bias, and the party Deep in discourse ; 'twill be a bargain and sale, I see, by their close working of their heads, And running them together so in counsel. Enter at a distance, in discouise, sir Moth In- terest, Practice, and Bias. Lady L. Will master Practice be of counsel against us ? Com. tie is a lawyer, and must speak for his fee, You do hold A cricket by the wing.] i. e. increase the clamour which you wish to silence. See Vol. III. p. 239. 44 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Against his father and mother, all his kindred, His brothers or his sisters ; no exception Lies at the common law. He must not alter Nature for form, but go on in his path : It may be, he'll be for us. Do not you Offer to meddle, let them take their course. Dispatch, and marry her off to any husband; I3e not you scrupulous; let who can have her: So he lay down the portion, though he geld it, It will maintain the suit against him, somewhat; Something in hand is better than no birds; He shall at last accompt for the utmost farthing, If you can keep your baud from a discharge. [Exit Lady L. Pol. [to Diaphanous."] Sir, do but make her worshipful aunt a countess, And she is yours, her aunt has worlds to leave you : The wealth of six East-Indian fleets at least. Her husband, sir John Loadstone, was the go- vernor Of the company seven years. Sir Dia. And came there home Six fleets in seven years? Pol. I cannot tell, I must attend my gossip her good ladyship. [Exit. Pla. And will you make me a vicountess too, sir ? How do they make a countess? in a chair, Or on a bed ? Sir Dia, Both ways, sweet bird ; I'll shew you, [Exeunt sir Diaphanous and Plucentia. Sir Moth, [coming forward.] The truth is, mas- ter Practice, now we are sure That you are oft", we dare come on the bolder; Tne portion left was sixteen thousand pound, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 45 I do confess it, as a just man should. And call here master Compass, with these gen- tlemen, To the relation ; I will still be just. Now for the profits every way arising, It was the donor's wisdom, those should pay Me for my watch, and breaking of my sleeps; It is no petty charge, you know, that sum, To keep a man awake for fourteen year. Prac. But, as you knew to use it in that time, It would reward your waking. Sir Moth. That's my industry, As it might be your reading, study, and counsel, And now your pleading; who denies it you ? I have my calling too. Well, sir, the contract Is with this gentleman, ten thousand pound. An ample portion for a younger brother, With a soft, tender, delicate rib of man's flesh, That he may woik like wax, and print upon. He expects no more than that sum to be tender'd, And he receive it; these are the conditions. Prac. A direct bargain, and sale in open market. Sir Moth. And what I have furnish'd him withal o' the by, To appear or so; a matter of four hundred, To be deduced upon the payment Bia. Right : You deal like a just man still. Sir Moth. Draw up this, Good master Practice, for us, and be speedy. Prac. But here's a mighty gain, sir, you have made Of this one stock : the principal first doubled, In the first seven year; and that redoubled In the next seven 1 beside six thousand pound, There's threescore thousand got in fourteen year, 46 THE MAGNETIC LADY. After the usual rate of ten in the hundred, And the ten thousand paid. Sir Moth. I think it be. Prac. How will you 'scape the clamour and the envy? Sir Moth. Let them exclaim and envy, what care I ? Their murmurs raise no blisters in my flesh. My monies are my blood, my parents, kindred ; And he that loves not these, he is unnatural. I am persuaded that the love of money Is not a virtue only in a subject, But might befit a prince : and were there need, I find me able to make good the assertion, To any reasonable man's understanding, And make him to confess it. Com. Gentlemen, Doctors, and scholars, you'll hear this, and look for As much true secular wit, and deep lay-sense, As can be shown on such a common place. Sir Moth. First, we all know the soul of man is infinite In what it covets. Who desireth knowledge, Desires it infinitely ; who covets honour, Covets it infinitely : It will be then No hard thing for a coveting man to prove, Or to confess, he aims at infinite wealth. Com. His soul lying that way. Sir Moth. Next, every man Is in the hope or possibility Of a whole world ; this present world being nothing, But the dispersed issue of [the] first one. And therefore I not see, but a just man May, with just reason, and in office ought Propound unto himself THE MAGNETIC LADY. 47 Com. An infinite wealth ! I'll bear the burden ; go you on, sir Moth.' Sir Moth. Thirdly, if we consider man a member But of the body politic, we know, By just experience, that the prince hath need More of one wealthy, than ten fighting men. Com. There you went out of the road, a little from us. Sir Moth. And therefore, if the prince's aims be infinite, It must be in that which makes all. Com Infinite wealth ! Sir Moth. Fourthly, 'tis natural to all good subjects, To set a price on money, more than fools Ought on their mistress' picture ; every piece, From the penny to the twelve-pence, being the hieroglyphic, And sacred sculpture of the sovereign. Com. A manifest conclusion, and a safe one ! Sir Moth. Fifthly, wealth gives a man the leading voice At all conventions ; and displaceth worth, With general allowance to all parties : It makes a trade to take the wall of virtue, And the mere issue of a shop right honourable. Sixthly, it doth enable him that hath it, To the pe r formance of all real actions, Referring him to himself still, and not binding His will to any circumstance, without him. It gives him precise knowledge of himself ; For, be he rich, he straight with evidence knows Whether he have any compassion, Or inclination unto virtue, or no ; Where the poor knave erroneously believes, If he were rich, he would build churches, or 48 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Do such mad things. Seventhly, your wise poor men Have ever been contented to observe Rich fools, and so to serve their turns upon them ; Subjecting all their wit to the others wealth, And become gentlemen parasites, squire bawds, To feed their patron's honourable humours. Eighthly, 'tis certain that a man may leave His wealth, or to his children, or his friends ; His wit he cannot so dispose by legacy, As they shall be a Harrington* the better for't. Enter captain Ironside. Com. He may entail a jest upon his house, Or leave a tale to his posterity, To be told after him. Iron. As you have done here ? To invite your friend and brother to a feast, Where all the guests are so mere heterogene, And strangers, no man knows another, or cares If they be Christians, or Mahometans, That here are met. Com. Is't any thing to you, brother, To know religions more than those you fight for? Iron. Yes, and with whom I eat. I may dispute, And how shall I hold argument with such, I neither know their humours, nor their heresies, Which are religions now, and so received ? Here's no man among these that keeps a servant, To inquire his master of; yet in the house I hear it buzz'd there are a brace of doctors, A fool, and a physician ; with a courtier, That feeds on mulberry leaves, like a true silk- worm : A lawyer, and a mighty money-bawd, Sir Moth, has brought his politic Bias with him, * A Harrington. J See vol. t. p. 44. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 49 A man of a most animadverting humour; Who, to endear himself unto his lord, Will tell him, you and I, or any of us, That here are met, are all pernicious spirits, And men of pestilent purpose, meanly affected Unto the state we live in ; and beget Himself a thanks with the great men of the time, By breeding jealousies in them of us, Shall cross our fortunes, frustrate our endeavours, Twice seven years after: and this trick be call'd Cutting of throats 8 with a whispering, or a pen- knife. I must cut his throat now : I am bound in honour, And by the law of arms, to see it done ; I dare to do it, and I dare profess The doing of it; being to such a rascal, Who is the common offence grown of mankind, And worthy to be torn up from society. Com. You shall not do it here, sir. Iron. Why, will you Entreat yourself into a beating for him, My courteous brother ? If you will, have at you. No man deserves it better, now I think on't, Than you, that will keep consort with such fidlers, Pragmatic flies, fools, publicans, and moths, And leave your honest and adopted brother. Sir Moth. Best raise the house upon him to secure us ; He'll kill us all ! {Exit. Pal. I love no blades in belts. [Exit, * Cutting of throats with a whispering^ &c] From Juvenal : savior illo Pompeius tenuijugulos apcrire susurro. Which Dryden translates after Jonson : " Pompey, skill'd in the court game, Of cutting throats with a soft whisper, came." VOL. VI. E 50 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Rut. Nor I. . [*? Bia. Would I were at my shop again, In court, safe stow'd up with my politic bundles. [Exit. Com. How they are scatter'd ! Iron. Run away like cimici, 9 Into the crannies of a rotten bed-stead. Com. I told you, such a passage would disperse them, Although the house were their fee-simple in law, And they possest of all the blessings in it. Iron. Pray heaven they be not frighted from their stomachs, That so my lady's table be disfurnish'd Of the provisions ! Com. No, the parson's calling, By this time, all the covey again together. Here comes good tidings Enter Pleasance. Dinner's on the board. [Exit Ironside. Stay, mistress Pleasance, I must ask you a question : Have you any suits in law? Plea. I, master Compass ! Com. Answer me briefly, it is dinner-time. They say you have retain'd brisk master Practice, Here, of your counsel; and are to be join'd A patentee with him. 9 Run away like cimici.] i. e. bugs. Our naturalists, who arc much too wise to seek for information in old plays, and " such baggage books," very gravely inform us, that " bugs were first brought into this country, after the fire of London, in the fir timber in. ported for the rebuilding of the city." Unfortunately for them however, they were amongst the greatest sufferers by the fire, having been denizened in vast numbers, long before that calamitous event took place. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 51 Plea. In what ? who says so ? You are disposed to jest. Com. No, I am in earnest. It is given out in the house so, I assure you ; But keep your right to yourself, and not acquaint A common lawyer with your case : if he Once find the gap, a thousand will leap after I'll tell you more anon. [Exit. Plea. This riddle shews A little like a love-trick, o' one face, If I could understand it. I will study it. [Exit, Dam. But whom doth your poet mean now by this master Bias ? what lord's secretary doth he purpose to personate or perstringe ? Boy. You might as well ask me, what alderman, or alderman's mate, he meant by sir Moth Interest, or what eminent lawyer, by the ridiculous master Practice ? zvho hath rather his name invented for laughter, than any offence or injury it can stick on the reverend professors of the lazv . and so the zvise ones will think. Pro, It is an insidious question, brother Damplay ; iniquity itself would not have urged it. It is picking the lock of' the scene, not opening it the fair way zvith a key, A play, though it apparel and present vices in general, flies from all particularities in persons. Would you ask of Plautus, and Terence, if they both lived nozv, who were Davus or Pseudolus in the scene, who PyrgopolinicesorThraso ? whoEuclio orMenedemus ? Boy . Yes, he would : and enquire of Martial, or any other epigrammatist, zohom he meant by Titius or Seius, (the common John a Noke, or John a Stile,) under whom they note all vices and errors taxable to the times f as if there could not be a name for a folly fitted to the stage, but there must be a person in nature found out to own it. ES 52 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Dam. Why, I can fancy a person to myself, boy, who shall hinder me ? Boy. And in not publishing him, you do no man an injury. But if you will utter your own ill meaning on that person, under the authors words, you make a libel of his comedy. Dam. O, he told us that in a prologue, long since. 1 Boy. If you do the same reprehensible ill things, still the same reprehension will serve you, though you heard it afore : they are his own words, I can invent no better, nor he. Pro. It is the solemn vice of interpretation that deforms the figure of many a fair scene, by drawing it awry ; and, indeed, is the civil murder of most good plays : if I see a thing vively presented on the stage, that the glass of custom, which is comedy, is so held up to me by the poet, as I can therein view the daily examples of' men's lives, and images of truth, in their manners, so drawn for my delight or profit, as I may, either way, use them : and will I, rather than make that true use, hunt out the persons to defame by my malice of misapplying, and imperil the innocence and candour of the author by this calumny ! 2 It is an unjust way of hearing and beholding plays, this, and most unbecoming a gentleman to appear malignantly zviity in another 's work. Boy. They are no other but narrow and shrunk natures, shriveWd up, poor things, that cannot think well of themselves, who dare to detract others. That signature is upon them, and it will last. A half 1 0, he told us that in a prologue, long since.] In that to the Silent Woman: M If any yet will with particular sleight Of application, wrest what he doth write ; And that he meant or him, or her, will say, They make a libel, which he meant a play." * By this calumny.] The folio reads his. Corrected by Whalley. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 53 witted barbarism, which no barber's art, or his balls will ever expunge or take out ! Dam. Why, boy, this were a strange empire, or rather a tyranny, you would entitle your poet to, over gentlemen, that they should come to hear and see plays, and say nothing for their money ! Boy. O, yes, say what you will ; so it be to purpose, and in place. Dam. Can any thing be out of purpose at a play ? I see no reason, if I come here, and give my eighteen pence or two shillings for my seat, but I should take it out in censure on the stage. Boy. Your two shilling worth is allow'dyou : but you will take your ten shilling worth, your twenty shilling worth, and more ; and teach others about you to do the like, that follow your leading face ; as if you were to cry up and down every scene by confederacy, be it right or wrong. Dam. Who should teach us the right or wrong at a play ? Boy. If your own science cannot do it, or the love of modesty and tru th ; all other entreaties or attempts are vain. You are f iter spectators for the bears, than us, or the puppets. This is a popular ignorance indeed, somewhat better apparelled in you, than the people ; but a hard-handed and stiff ignorance worthy a trowel or a hammerman ; and not only ft to be scorned, but to be triumphed over. Dam. By whom, boy ? Boy. No particular, but the general neglect, and silence. Good master Damplay, be yourself still, without a second : few here arc of your opinion to- day, I hope ; to-morrow, lam sure there will be none, when they have ruminated this. Pro. Let us mind what you come for, the play, which will draw on to the epitasis now. 54 THE MAGNETIC LADY. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in lady Loadstone's House. Enter Timothy Item, Needle, and Nurse Keep. Item. Where's master doctor? Nee. O, master Timothy Item, His learned pothecary, you are welcome ! He is within at dinner. Item. Dinner ! death, That he will eat now, having such a business, That so concerns him ! Nee. Why, can any business Concern a man like his meat? Item. O, twenty millions, To a physician that's in practice : I Do bring him news from all the points o' the compass, That's all the parts of the sublunary globe, Of times, and double times. Nee. In, in, sweet Item, And furnish forth the table with your news : Deserve your dinner, sow out your whole bag full; The guests will hear it. Item. I heard they were out. Nee. But they are pieced, and put together again; You may go in, you'll find them at high eating : The parson has an edifying stomach, And a persuading palate, like his name ; THE MAGNETIC LADY. 5S He hath begun three draughts of sack in doctrines, And four in uses. 3 Item. And they follow him? Nee. No, sir Diaphanous is a recusant In sack ; he only takes it in French wine, With an allay of water. In, in, Item, And leave your peeping. [Exit Item* Keep. I have a month's mind 4 To peep a little too. Sweet master Needle, How are they set ? Nee. At the board's end my lady Keep. And my young mistress by her? Nee. Yes, the parson On the right hand (as he'll not lose his place For thrusting) and against him mistress Polish ; Next, sir Diaphanous against sir Moth ; Knights, one again another : then the soldier, The man of war; and man of peace, the lawyer; J He hath begun three draughts of sack in doctrines, And four in uses.] Needle adopts the language of the puri- tans in this place. In preaching, they divided their discourse* into doctrine and use, meaning by the former the subject under explanation, and by the latter the practical inference to be derived from it. Hudibras has the words frequently in his mouth: ** Thou canst, in conscience, not refuse, From thy own doctrine to raise *we." Again : in a town There lived a cobler, and but one, ' Who out of doctrine could cut use. And mend men's lives as well as shoes." 4 / have a month's mind.] i. e. a strong inclination. It is per- fectly nauseating to look at the trash which always accompanies the mention of this word, in the notes on our old dramatists. One laborious blunderer follows another ; and when they have heaped up a mass of irrelevant quotations, which none of them understand, they proudly count themselves among the benefactors of literature, and affect to feel great indignation at being told, that they w ould have been as profitably employed for themselves and the world, in milking he-goats in a sieve. 56 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Then the pert doctor, and the politic Bias, And master Compass circumscribeth all. [A noise zvithin. Plea, [zvithin.) Nurse Keep, nurse Keep ! Nee. What noise is that within ? Plea, [within.] Come to my mistress, all their weapons are out. Nee. Mischief of men, what day, what hour is this ! Keep. Run for the cellar of strong waters, quickly. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Room in the Same, Enter Ironside, followed by Compass. Com. Were you a madman to do this at table, And trouble afl the guests, to affright the ladies, And gentlewomen ? Iron. Pox upon your women, And your half-man there, court sir Ambergris, A perfumed braggart ! he must drink his wine With three parts water ; and have amber in that too! Com. And you must therefore break his face with a glass, And wash his nose in wine? Iron. Cannot he drink In orthodox, but he must have his gums, And paynim drugs ? Com. You should have used the glass Rather as balance, than the sword of Justice: But you have cut his face with it, he bleeds. Come, you shall take your sanctuary with me; THE MAGNETIC LADY. 57 The whole house will be up in arms against you else, Within this half hour : this way to my lodging. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Another Room in the Same. Enter Rut, lady Loadstone, Polish, and Keep carrying Placentia; Pleasance and Item Jollozcing Rut. A most rude action! carry her to her bed; And use the fricace to her with those oils. Keep your news, Item, now, and tend this business. Lady L. Good gossip, look to her. Pol. How do you, sweet charge? Keep. She's in a sweat. Pol. Ay, and a faint sweat, marry. Rut, Let her alone to Tim ; he has directions: I'll hear your news, Tim Item, when you have done. [Exeunt Item, Polish, Keep and Pleasance, with Placentia. Lady L. Was ever such a guest brought to my table ? Rut. These boisterous soldiers have no better breeding. Here master Compass comes : Enter Compass. Where is your captain, Rudhudibrass de Ironside? Corn. Gone out of doors. 58 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Lady L. Would he had ne*er come in them, I may wish ! He has discredited my house and board, With his rude swaggering manners, and endan- ger'd My niece's health, by drawing of his weapon, God knows how far ; for master Doctor does not. Com. The doctor is an ass then, if he say so, And cannot with his conjuring names, Hippo- crates, Galen or Rasis, Avicen, Averroes, Cure a poor wench's falling in a swoon ; Which a poor farthing changed in rosa solis, Or cinnamon water would. Re-enter Keep and Polish. Lady L. How now ! how does she ? Keep. She's somewhat better: master Item has brought her A little about. Pol. But there's sir Moth, your brother, Is fallen into a fit o' the happyplex ; It were a happy place for him and us, If he could steal to heaven thus ! all the house Are calling master Doctor, master Doctor. {Exit Rut. The parson he has given him gone, this half hour; He's pale in the mouth already for the fear Of the fierce captain. Lady L. Help me to my chamber, Nurse Keep : would I could see the day no more, But night hung over me, like some dark cloud ; That, buried with this loss of my good name, I and my house might perish thus forgotten ! [Exeunt Lady L. Keep, and Polish. Com. Hertakingit to heart thus more afflicts me Than all these accidents, for they'll blow oven THE MAGNETIC LADY. 59 Enter Practice and sir Diaphanous Silkworm. Prac. It was a barbarous injury, I confess: But if you will be counsell'd, sir, by me, The reverend law lies open to repair Your reputation. That will give you damages: Five thousand pound for a finger, I have known Given in court; and let me pack your jury. Sir Dia. There's nothing vexes me, but that he has stain'd My new white satin doublet, and bespatter'd My spick and span silk-stockings on the day They were drawn on ; and here's a spot in my hose too ! Com> Shrewd maims ! your clothes are wounded desperately ; And that, I think, troubles a courtier more, An exact courtier, than a gash in his flesh. Sir Dia. My flesh ! I swear had he given me twice so much, I never should have reckon'd it : but my clothes To be defaced and stigmatized so foully ! I take it as a contumely done me, Above the wisdom of our laws to right. Com, Why, then you'll challenge him ? Sir Dia. I will advise ; Though master Practice here doth urge the law, And reparation it will make me of credit, Beside great damages let him pack my jury. Com. He speaks like master Practice, one that is The child of a profession he is vow'd to, And servant to the study he hath taken, A pure apprentice at law ! " but you must have s A pure apprentice at law !] An ancient term for a barrister at law, as distinguished from a scrjeant. 60 THE MAGNETIC LADY. The counsel of the sword, and square your action Unto their canons, and that brotherhood, If you do right. Prac. I tell you, master Compass, You speak not like a friend unto the laws, Nor scarce a subject, to persuade him thus Unto the breach of the peace : sir, you forget There is a court above, of the Star-chamber, To punish routs and riots. Com. No, young master, Although your name be Practice there in term- time, I do remember it. But you'll not hear What I was bound to say ; but like a wild Young haggard justice, fly at breach of the peace, Before you know whether the amorous knight Dares break the peace of conscience in a duel. Sir Dia. Troth, master Compass, I take you my friend ; You shall appoint of me in any matter That's reasonable, so we may meet fair, On even terms. Com. I shall persuade no other; And take your learned counsel to advise you, I'll run along with him. You say you'll meet him On even terms. I do not see indeed How that can be 'twixt Ironside and you, Now I consider it : he is my brother, I do confess we have call'd so twenty year: But you are, sir, a knight in court, allied there, And so befriended, you may easily answer The worst success : he a known, noted, bold Boy of the sword, hath all men's eyes upon him; And there's no London jury,' but are led * And thereat no London jury, &c] The prejudice, partiality, and even perjury of the jurors of the city had been a subject of serious complaint long before Jonson was born. See Ch. 21, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 61 In evidence, as far by common fame, As they are by present deposition. Then you have many brethren, and near kinsmen. If he kill you, it will be a lasting quarrel 'Twixt them and him : whereas Rud Ironside, Although he have got his head into a beaver, With a huge feather, is but a currier's son, And lias not two old cordovan skins to leave In leather caps to mourn him in, if he die. Again ; you are generally beloved, he hated So much, that all the hearts and votes of men Go with you, in the wishing all prosperity Unto your purpose : he is a fat, corpulent, Unwieldy fellow; you, a dieted spark, Fit for the combat. He has kill'd so many, As it is ten to one his turn is next : You never fought with any, less, slew any ; And therefore have the [betterjhopes before you.' I hope these things, thus specified unto you, Are fair advantages ; you cannot encounter Him upon equal terms. Beside, sir Silkworm, He hath done you wrong in a most high degree ; And sense of such an injury received fj 2. Henry VII. Grafton observes in his Chronicle, in the reign of Hen. VIII, that it was bruited, that London juries were so prejudiced, that " they would find Abel guilty of the murder of Cain I" Observations on the Antient Statutes, 1769, p. 410. London juries did not much belie (he character here given of them, in the times immediately subsequent to those of the poet : but it was reserved for our monster-breeding days to witness a jury combining the most daring assurance with perjury, and voting honorary medals to themselves, for having acquitted a manifest traitor. 7 And therefore have the hopes before you.~\ A word appears to be lost at the press ; what stood originally in the poet's manu- script, is difficult to say. Some epithet, as fairer, better, or any other equivalent term, must be added to complete the sense and measure. Wjial. tft THE MAGNETIC LADY. Should so exacuate, and whet your choler, As you should count yourself an host of men, Compared to him : and therefore you, brave sir, Have no more reason to provoke, or challenge Him than the huge great porter* has to try His strength upon an infant. Sir Dia. Master Compass, You rather spur me on, than any way Abate my courage to the enterprize. Com. All counsel's as 'tis taken: if you stand On point of honour, not to have any odds, I have rather then dissuaded you, than otherwise : If upon terms of humour and revenge, I have encouraged you. So that I think, I have done the part of a friend on either side ; In furnishing your fear with matter first, If you have any ; or, if you dare fight, To heighten and confirm your resolution. Prac. I now do crave your pardon, master Compass : I did not apprehend your way before, The true perimeter of it : you have circles, And such fine draughts about ! Sir Dia. Sir, I do thank you, * Than the huge great porter.] It may mean any great over- grown porter ; but seems, as Dr. Grey observes, particularly to allude to Parsons, the king's porter, who was very big and tall, near seven feet high. Whal. Parsons, who had been porter to James, died before this was written : the allusion is to his successor, William Evans. He was seven feet and an half in height, " exceeding (Fuller says) Parsons two inches in stature, but far beneath him in proportion of body : for he was not only what the Latines call compernis, knocking his knees together, and going OHt squalling with his feet, but also haulted a little, yet made he a shift to dance in an Antimasque at court, where he drew little Jeffrey (Hudson) out of his pocket, first to the wonder, and then to the laughter of the beholders." THE MAGNETIC LADY. 63 I thank you, master Compass, heartily. I must confess, I never fought before, And I'd be glad to do things orderly, In the right place ; I pray you instruct me, sir : Is't best I fight ambitiously, or maliciously? Com. Sir, if you never fought before, be wary, Trust not yourself too much. Sir Dia. Why ? I assure you, I am very angry. Com. Do not suffer, though, The rlatuous, windy choler of your heart, To move the clapper of your understanding, Which is the guiding faculty, your reason : You know not, if you'll fight, or no, being brought Upon the place. Sir Dia. O yes, I have imagined Him treble arm'd, provoked too, and as furious As Homer makes Achilles ; and I find Myself not frighted with his fame one jot. Com. Well, yet take heed. These fights ima- ginary, Are less than skirmishes ; the fight of shadows : For shadows have their figure, motion, And their umbratil action, from the real Posture and motion of the body's act : Whereas imaginably, many times. Those men may fight dare scarce eye one another, And much less meet. But if there be no help, Faith I would wish you send him a fair challenge. Sir Dia. I will go pen it presently. Com. But word it In the most generous terms. Sir Dia. Let me alone. Prac. And silken phrase ; the courtliest kind of quarrel. 64 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Com. He'll make it a petition for his peace. Prac. O, yes. of right, and he may do't by law.* [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Another Room in the Sa?ne. Enter Rut, Palate and Btas bringing out sir Moth Interest in a chair : Item and Polish following. Rut. Come, bring him out into the air a little: There, set him down. Bow him, yet bow him more, Dash that same glass of water in his face ; Now tweak him by the nose hard, harder yet : If it but call the blood up from the heart, I ask no more. See, what a fear can do ! Pinch him in the nape of the neck now; nip him, nip him. Item. He feels ; there's life in him. Pal. He groans, and stirs. Rut. Tell him the captain's gone. Sir Moth Ha ! Pal. He's gone, sir. Rut. Give him a box, hard, hard, on his left ear. Sir Moth. O! Rut. How do you feel yourself? Sir Moth. Sore, sore. 9 Com. HeHl make it a petition for his peace. Prac. 0, yes, of right, and he may do't by law."] Jonson alludes to the famous Petition of Right, which was long in agi- tation, and which, alter beinji eagerly debated in both houses of parliament, received the royal assent in June 1628. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 65 Rut. But where ? Sir Moth. In my neck. Rut. I nipt him" there. Sir Moth. And in my head. Rut. I box'd him twice or thrice, to move those sinews. Bias. I swear you did. Pol. What a brave man's a doctor, I o beat one into health ! I thought his blows Vjfo|d e en have kill'd him ; he did tee! no more in.m a great horse. Sir Moth. Is the wild captain gone, Inat man of murder ? Bias, All is calm and quiet. Sir Moth. Say you so, cousin Bias, then all's well. rat. How quickly a man is lost ! Bias. And soon recover'd ! Pol Where there are means, and doctors, Jearned men, And their apothecaries, 1 who are not now, As Chaucer says, their friendship to be. Well, could they teach each other how to win In their swath bands . Rut.LtB.vt your poetry, good gossip, Your Chaucer's clouts, and wash your dishes with them ; We must rub up the roots of his disease, And crave your peaceawhile, or elseyourabsence. Jrok Nay, I know when to hold my peace. "~"~ doctors, learned men, And their aputhecanes, &c] Jonson seems to hare had Chaucer at his finger's end : " Full redy had he his pothecaries, To send him druggis and lectnaries, For eche of them made other for to winne ; Their friendship n'as not new, now to beginne. VOL. VI. F Doct. o/Phisike. 66 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Rut. Then do it- Give me your hand, sir Moth. Let's feel your pulse ; It is a pursiness, a kind of stoppage, Or tumour of the purse, for want of exercise, That you are troubled with : some ligatures In the neck of your vesica, or marsupium, Are so close knit, that you cannot evaporate ; And therefore you must use relaxatives. Beside, they say, you are so restive grown, You cannot but with trouble put your hand Into your pocket to discharge a reckoning, And this we sons of physic do call chiragra, A kind of cramp, or hand-gout. You shall purge for't. Item. Indeed your worship should do well to advise him To cleanse his body, all the three high-ways ; That is, by sweat, purge, and phlebotomy. Rut. You say well, learned Tim ; I'll first prescribe him To give his purse a purge, once, twice a week At dice, or cards; and when the weather is open, Sweat at a bowling-alley ; or be let blood In the lending vein, and bleed a matter of fifty Or threescore ounces at a time : then put your thumbs Under your girdle, and have somebody else Pull out your purse for you, till with more ease, And a good habit, you can do it yourself. And then be sure always to keep good diet, And have your table furnish*d from one end Unto the t'other ; it is good for the eyes : But feed you on one dish still, have your diet- drink Ever in bottles ready, which must come THE MAGNETIC LADY. 67 From the King's-head : * I will prescribe you no thins:, But what I'll take before you mine ownself ; That is my course with all my patients. Pal. Very methodical, secundum artcm. Bias. And very safe pro captu recipientis. Pol. All errant learned men, how they 'spute Latin ! Rut. I had it of a Jew, and a great rabbi, Who every morning cast his cup of white-wine With sugar, and by the residence in the bottom, Would make report of any chronic malady, Such as sir Moth's is, being an oppilation In that you call the neck of the money-bladder, Most anatomical, and by dissection Enter Nurse Keep hastily. Keep. O, master doctor, and his 'pothecary, Good master Item, and my mistress Polish, We need you all above ! she's fallen again In a worse fit than ever. Pol. Who? Keep. Your charge. Pol. Come away, gentlemen. Sir Moth. This fit with the doctor Hath mended me past expectation. [Exeunt all but Bias. Enter Compass, sir Diaphanous Silkworm, and Practice. Com. O sir Diaphanous ! have you done? * From the King's-Head .] The reader will be pleased to learn that this tavern stood in New Fish-street ; it was, as our old writers affirm, " haunted by roysters," so that the wins drank there was unquestionably of the very first quality. F2 68 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Sir Dia. I have brought it. Prac. That's well. Com. But who shall carry it now ? Sir Dia. A friend : I'll find a friend to carry it; master Bias here Will not deny me that. Bias. What is't ? Sir Dia. To carry A challenge I have writ unto the captain. Bias. Faith, but I will, sir; you shall pardon me For a twi-reason of state : I'll bear no challenges ; I will not hazard my lord's favour so ; Or forfeit mine own judgment with his honour, To turn a ruffian : I have to commend me Nought but his lordship's good opinion ; And to it my kalligraphy, a fair hand, Fit for a secretary : now you know, a man's hand Being his executing part in fight, Is more obnoxious to the common peril. Sir Dia. You shall not fight, sir, you shall only search My antagonist ; commit us fairly there Upon the ground on equal terms. Bias. O, sir, But if my lord should hear I stood at end Of any quarrel, 'twere an end of me In a state-course ! I have read the politics ; And heard the opinions of our best divines. Com. The gentleman has reason. Where was first The birth of your acquaintance, or the cradle Of your strict friendship made ? Sir Dia. We met in France, sir. Com. In France 1 that garden of humanity, The very seed-plot of all courtesies : I wonder that your friendship suck'd that aliment, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 69 The milk of France ; and see this sour effect It doth produce, 'gainst all the sweets of travel. There, every gentleman professing arms, Thinks he is bound in honour to embrace The bearing of a challenge for another, Without or questioning the cause, or asking Least colour of a reason. There's no cowardice, No poltronery, like urging why? wherefore? But carry a challenge, do the thing, and die. Bias. Why, hear you, master Compass, I but crave Your ear in private : [takes him aside."} I would carry his challenge, If I but hoped your captain angry enough To kill him ; for, to tell you truth, this knight Is an impertinent in court, we think him, And troubles my lord's lodgings, and his table With frequent, and unnecessary visits, Which we, the better sort of servants, like not: Being his fellows in all other places, But at our master's board ; and we disdain To do those servile offices, oft-times, His foolish pride and empire will exact, Against the heart, or humour of a gentleman. Com. Truth, master Bias, I would not have you think I speak to flatter you ; but you are one Of the deepest politics I ever met, And the most subtly rational. I admire you. But do not you conceive in such a case, That you are accessary to his death, From whom you carry a challenge with such purpose ? Bias. Sir, the corruption of one thing in nature,' 3 Sir, the corruption of one generation, &c] There is nothing new under the sun. This is precisely the principle on which that 70 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Is held the generation of another ; And therefore, I had as lief be accessary Unto his death, as to his life. Com. A new Moral philosophy too ! you'll carry it then ? Bias. If I were sure 'twould not incense his choler To beat the messenger. Com. O, I'll secure you, You shall deliver it in my lodging, safely, And do your friend a service worthy thanks. Enter Ironside. Bias, I'll venture it upon so good induction, To rid the court of an impediment, This baggage knight. Iron. Peace to you all, gentlemen, Save to this mushroom, who I hear is menacing Me with a challenge; which I come to anticipate, And save the law a labour. Will you fight, sir? Sir Dia. Yes, in my shirt. [Throws off his doublet. Iron. O, that's to save your doublet ; I know it a court-trick ; you had rather have An ulcer in your body, than a pink More in your clothes. great philosopher, doctor Darwin, and those humane admirers of the French Revolution up to a certain point, Price, Priestly, &c. justified their exultation at the wholesale murder of princes and peers by a regenerating cry of hell-hounds. The corruption of one dead king would produce a thousand worms, whose happiness, taken in the aggregate, would surpass that of the individual, and consequently prove a clear gain on the score of humanity ; while the summary extermination of a perverse ge- neration of priests and nobles, though not quite agreeable to the victims themselves, would be more than compensated to the universe in a few centuries, by prodigious advances towards perfectability, in a more tractable and philosophic race of atheists and murderers. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 71 Sir Dia. Captain, you are a coward, If you'll not fight in your shirt. Iron. Sir, I do not mean To put it off for that, nor yet my doublet : You have cause to call me coward, that more fear The stroke of the common and life-giving air, Than all your fury, and the panoply Prac Which is at best, but a thin linen armour. I think a cup of generous wine were better, Than fighting in your shirts. Sir Dia. Sir, sir, my valour, It is a valour of another nature, Than to be mended by a cup of wine. Com. I should be glad to hear of any valours, Differing in kind; who have known hitherto, Only one virtue they call fortitude, Worthy the name of valour. Iron. Which who hath not, Is justly thought a coward ; and he is such. Sir Dia. O, you have read the play there, the New Inn, Of Jonson's, that decries all other valour, But what is for the public. Iron. I do that too. But did not learn it there ; I think no valour Lies for a private cause. Sir Dia. Sir, I'll redargue you By disputation. Com. O, let's hear this : I long to hear a man dispute in his shirt Of valour, and his sword drawn in his hand ! Prac. His valour will take cold, put on your doublet. Com.. His valour will keep cold, you are de- ceived ; And relish much the sweeter in our ears : It may be too, in the ordinance of nature, 72 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Their valours are not yet so combatant, Or truly antagonistic, as to fight, But may admit to hear of some divisions Of fortitude, may put them off their quarrel. Sir Dia I would have no man think me so un- govern'd, Or suhject to my passion, but I can Read him a lecture 'twixt my undertakings And executions : I do know all kinds Of doing the business, which the town calls valour. Com. Yes, he has read the town, Town-top's his author ! Your first ? Sir Dia. Is a rash headlong unexperience. Com. Which is in children, fools, or your street- gallants Of the first head. Prac. A pretty kind of valour ! Com. Commend him, he will spin it out in's shirt, Fine as that thread. Sir Dia. The next, an indiscreet Presumption, grounded upon often scapes. Com. Or the insufficiency of adversaries : And this is in your common fighting brothers, Your old Perdue's, who, after time, do think, The one, that they are shot-free, the other sword- free. Your third ? Sir Dia. Is nought but an excess of choler, That leigns in testy old men Com. Noblemen's porters, And self-conceited poets. Sir Dia. And is rather A peevishness, than any part of valour. Prac. He but rehearses, he concludes no valour. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 73 Com. A history of distempers as they are prac- tised, His harangue undertaketh, and no more. Your next ? Sir Dia. Is a dull desperate resolving. Com. In case of some necessitous misery, or Incumbent mischief. Prac. Narrowness of mind, Or ignorance being the root of it. Sir Dia. Which you shall find in gamesters quite blown up. Com. In bankrupt merchants, and discovered traitors. Prac. Or your exemplified malefactors, That have survived their infamy and punishment. Com. One that hath lost his ears by a just sentence 4 Of the Star-chamber, a right valiant knave And is a histrionical contempt Of what a man fears most ; it being a mischief In his own apprehension unavoidable. Prac. Which is in cowards wounded mortally, Or thieves adjudged to die. Com. This is a valour I should desire much to see encouraged; As being a special entertainment For our rogue people, and make oft good sport Unto them, from the gallows to the ground. Sir Dia. But mine is a judicial resolving, Or liberal undertaking of a danger One that hath lost hit ears, &c] This is evidently meant of Scribe Prynne, and may be considered as " the retort courteous" to the histrionical contempt with which he had assailed the dra- matic writers in that interminable " Tragedie " which Mr. Weber, v ho had never read a word of it, and was even a stranger to its name, pronounces to be the undoubted work of the " ig- norant, impudent, and malicious Ben Jonson." 74 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Com. That might be avoided. Sir Dia. Ay, and with assurance, That it is found in noblemen and gentlemen Of the best sheaf. Com. Who having lives to lose, Like private men, have yet a world of honour And public reputation to defend. Sir Dia. Which in the brave historifled Greeks, And Romans, you shall read of. Com. And, no doubt, May in our aldermen meet it, and their deputies, The soldiers of the city, valiant blades, Who, rather than their nouses should beransack'd, Would fight it out, like so many wild beasts; Not for the fury they are commonly arm'd with, But the close manner of their fight and custom Of joining head to head, and foot to foot. Iron. And which of these so well-prest reso- lutions Am I to encounter now? for commonly, Men that have so much choice before them, have Some trouble to resolve of any one. Bias. There are three valours yet, which sir Diaphanous Hath, with his leave, not touch'd. Sir Dia. Yea ! which are those ? Prac. He perks at that. Com. Nay, he does more, he chatters. Bias. A philosophical contempt of death Is one ; then an infused kind of valour, Wrought in us by our genii, or good spirits ; Of which the gallant ethnics had deep sense, Who generally held that no great statesman, Scholar, or soldier, e'er did any thing Sine divino aliquo afflatu. Prac. But there's a christian valour 'bove these two. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 15 Bias. Which is a quiet patient toleration Of whatsoever the malicious world With injury cloth unto you; and consists In passion more than action, sir Diaphanous. Sir Dia. Sure, I do take mine to be christian valour. Com. You may mistake though. Canyoujustify, On any cause, this seeking to deface The divine image in a man? Bias. O, sir, Let them alone : is not Diaphanous As much a divine image, as is Ironside ? Let images fight, if they will fight, a God's name. Enter Nurse Keep hastily. Keep. Where's master Needle ? saw you mas- ter Needle ? We are undone. Com. What ails the frantic nurse ? Keep. My mistress is undone ! she's crying out! Where is this man trow, master Needle ? Enter Needle. Nee. Here. [Takes her aside. Keep. Run for the party, mistress Chair, the midwife. Nay, look how the man stands as he were go wk'd ! ' She's lost if you not haste away the party. Nee. Where is the doctor ? Keep. Where a scoffing man is, 5 Look how the man stand's, as he weregowk'd !] i. e. stupified. Gawkey, (adj.) is in common use in the western provinces (and perhaps in others) for the extreme of awkwardness, a stupid stare of astonishment, &c. It is probably the same word a* gowk, cuckow. 76 THE MAGNETIC LADY. And bis apothecary little better ; They laugh and jeer at all : will you dispatch, And fetch the party quickly to our mistress ? We are all undone ! the tympany will out else. [Exeunt Needle and Keep, Enter sir Moth Interest. Sir Moth. News, news, good news, better than butter'd news ! My niece is found with child, the doctor tells me, And fallen in labour. Com. How ! [Exit. Sir Moth. The portion's paid, The portion O the captain ! is he here? [Exit. Prac. He has spied your swords out : put them up, put up, You have driven him hence, and yet your quarrel's ended. Iron. In a most strange discovery. Prac. Of light gold. Sir Dia. And crack 'd within the ring.' I take the omen As a good omen. Prac. Then put up your sword, And on your doublet. Give the captain thanks. 6 And crack' d uithin the ring.] This most trivial expression has bad much written on it to very little purpose. The gold coin of our ancestors was very thin, and therefore liable to crack. It still however continued passable until the crack extended beyond the ring, i. e. beyond the inmost round which circum. scribed the inscription ; when it became uncurrcnt, and might be legally refused. This is the whole of the matter. The appli- cation of the expression to any thing seriously injured, debased, unserviceable, factitious, &c. is perfectly natural, and in one or other of these senses it is to be found in almost all the writer* of Jonson't age. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 77 Sir Dia. I bad been slurr'd else. Tbank you, noble captain ! Your quarrelling caused all this. Iron. Where's Compass ? Prac. Gone, Shrunk hence, contracted to his centre, I fear. Iron. The slip is his then. 7 Sir Dia. I had like t' have been Abused in the business, had the slip slurr'd on me, A counterfeit. Bias. Sir, we are all abused, As many as were brought on to be suitors; And we will join in thanks all to the captain, And to his fortune that so brought us off. [Exeunt Dam. This was a pitiful poor shift of your poet \ boy, to make his prime woman with child, and fall in labour, just to compose a quarrel. Boy. With zvhose borrowed ears have you heard, sir, all this while, that you can mistake the current of our scene so ? The stream of the argument threatened her being with child from the very beginning ; for it presented her in the first of the second act with some apparent note of infirmity or deject, from knowledge of which the auditory were rightly to be suspended 1 The slip is his then, &c] Ironside concludes like squire Western, when Jones left the table upon Parson Supple's story. Sir Diaphanous plays on the double meaning of the word slip, which signified either a base-born child, or a piece of false money. In the latter sense it occurs in many of our old dramas, and ge- nera ly, as here, in conjunction with counterfeit. Thus Shak- s pea re : " What counterfeit did I give you ? The slip, the slip, sir." Romeo and Juliet. Again : " If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation.'' Troilus and Cressida. See vol. i. p. 62. 78 THE MAGNETIC LADY. by the author, till the quarrel, which was but the accidental cause, hastened on the discovery of it, in occasioning her affright, which made her fall into her throes presently, and within that compass of time al- lowed to the comedy : wherein the poet exprest his prime artifice, rather than any error, that the de- tection of her being with child should determine the quarrel, which had produced it. Pro. The boy is too hard for you, brother Dam- play ; best mark the play, and let him alone. Dam. I care not for marking the play ; Til damn it, talk, and do that T come for. Twill not have gen- tlemen lose their privilege, nor I myself my preroga- tive, for never an overgrown or superannuated poet of them all. He shall not give me the law : I will censure and be witty, and take my tobacco, and enjoy my Magna Charta of reprehension, as my prede- cessors have done before me. Boy. Even to license and absurdity. Pro. Not now, because the gentlewoman is in tra- vail, and the midwife may come on the sooner, to put her and us out of our pain. Da in. Well, look to your business afterward, boy, that all things be clear, and come properly forth, suited and set together ; for I will search what fol- lows severely, dnd to the nail* Boy. Let your nail run smooth then, and not scratch, lest the author be bold to pare it to the quick, and make it smart : you' 11 find him as severe as yourself. Dam. A shrewd boy, and has me every where ! The midwife is come, she has made haste. 8 For I witt search what follows to the nail.] Jonson alludes to the practice of the ancient artists, who proved the polish of their works, by running their nails over the surface. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 79 ACT IV. SCENE I. A Room in lady Loadstone's House, Enter mother Chair, and Needle. Chair. Stay, master Needle, you do prick too fast Upon the business, I must take some breath ; Lend me my stool ; you have drawn a stitch upon me, In faith, son Needle, with your haste. Nee. Good mother, Piece up this breach ; I'll give you a new gown, A new silk grogoran gown : I'll do it, mother. Enter Nurse Keep. Keep, What will you do ! you have done too much already, With your prick-seam and through-stitch, mas- ter Needle. I pray you sit not fabling here old tales, Good mother Chair, the midwife, but come up. [Exeunt Chair and Needle, Enter Compass and Practice. Com. How now, Nurse ! where's my lady ? Keep. In her chamber, Lock'd up, I think : she'll speak with no body. Com. Knows she of this accident ? Keep. Alas, sir, no : Would she might never know it ! [Exit. Prac, I think her ladyship 80 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Too virtuous, and too nobly innocent, To have a hand in so ill-form'd a business. Com. Your thought, sir, is a brave thought, and a safe one : The child now to be born is not more free From the aspersion of all spot than she. She haveher hand in a plot 'gainstmaster Practice, If there were nothing else, whom she so loves, Cries up, and values ! knows to be a man Mark'd out for a chief justice in his cradle, Or a lord paramount, the head of the hall, The top, or the top-gallant of our law ! Assure yourself she could not so deprave The rectitude of her judgment, to wish you Unto a wife might prove your infamy, Whom she esteem'd that part of the common- wealth, And had [raised] up for honour to her blood.' Prac. I must confess a great beholdingness Unto her ladyship's oifer, and good wishes : But the truth is, I never had affection, Or any liking to this niece of hers. Com. You foresaw somewhat then ? Prac. I had my notes, And my prognostics. Com. You read almanacs, And study them to some purpose, I believe. Prac. I do confess I do believe, and pray too, According to the planets, at some times. Com. And do observe the sign in making love ? Prac. As in phlebotomy. Com. And choose your mistress By the good days, and leave her by the bad ? Prac. I do and I do not. 9 And had [raised] up, &c] A word has dropped out here. I have inserted one by guess merely to bolster up the line. This play it Tilely printed in the old folio. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 81 Com. A little more Would fetch all his astronomy from Allestree.* Prac. I tell you, master Compass, as my friend, And under seal, I cast my eyes long; since Upon the other wench, my lady's woman, Another manner of piece for handsomeuess, Than is the niece : but that is sub sigillo, And as 1 give it you, in hope of your aid And counsel in the business. Com. You need counsel ! The only famous counsel of the kingdom, And in all courts ! That is a jeer in faith, Worthy your name, and your profession too, Sharp master Practice. Prac. No, upon my law, As I am a bencher, and now double reader,* I meant in mere simplicity of request. Com. If you meant so, the affairs are now per- plex'd, And full of trouble; give them breath and settling, I'll do my best. But in mean time do you Prepare the parson. I am glad to know This; for myself liked the young maid before, And loved her too. \Aside.~\ Have you a license ? Prac. No ; But I can fetch one straight. Com. Do, do, and mind * from Allestree.] This wai one Richard Allestree of Derby ; who was about this time a compiler of almanacs. Whal. * and now double reader,] " In those days," says sir W. Dugdale, (i. e. when readings in the Inns of Court were kept up with some degree of solemnity,) In those days men came to be single readers at fifteen or sixteen years standing in the House and read double about seven years afterwards." Orig. Jur. p. 209. Again. " By the antient orders of the House, (Middle Temple,) now disused, he is in turn to read again, and then is called a double reader." VOL. VI, G 82 THE MAGNETIC LADY. The parson's pint, to engagehim [in] the business ; A knitting cup there must be. 3 Prac. I shall do it. [Exit. Enter Bias, and sir Moth Interest. Bias. Tis an affront from you, sir ; you here brought me Unto my lady's, and to woo a wife, Which since is proved a crack'd commodity : She hath broke bulk too soon. Sir Moth. No fault of mine, If she be crack'd in pieces, or broke round : It was my sister's fault that owns the house Where she hath got her clap, makes all this noise. I keep her portion safe, that is not scatter'd ; The monies rattle not, nor are they thrown, To make a muss yet, mong the gamesome suitors. Com. Can you endure that flout, close master Bias, And have been so bred in the politics? The injury is done you, and by him only : He lent you imprest money, and upbraids it; Furnish'd you for the wooing, and now waves you. Bias. That makes me to expostulate the wrong So with him, and resent it as I do. Com. But do it home then. Bias. Sir, my lord shall know it. Com. And all the lords of the court too. Bias. What a Moth You are, sir Interest ! A knitting-cu/> there must be.'] Immediately after the per- formance of the marriage ceremony, a cup of wine was handed Tound to those who assisted at it. This, which is called by our author the knitting-cup, is termed by Middleton and others, the contracting-cup. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 83 Sir Moth. Wherein, I entreat you, Sweet master Bias ? Com. To draw in young statesmen, And heirs of policy into the noose Of an infamous matrimony. Bias. Yes, Infamous, quasi in communem famam ; And matrimony, quasi matter of money. 4 Com. Learnedly urged, my cunning master Bias. Bias. With his lewd known and prostituted niece. Sir Moth. My knoivn and prostitute J how you mistake, And run upon a false ground, master Bias ! Your lords will do me right. Now she is pros- titute, And that I know it, please you understand me, I mean to keep the portion in my hands, And pay no monies. Com. Mark you that, don Bias? And you shall still remain in honds to him, For wooing furniture, and imprest charges. Sir Moth. Good master Compass, for the sums he has had Of me, I do acquit him ; they are his own : Here, before you, I do release him. Com. Good ! Bias. O sir Com. 'Slid, take it ; I do witness it : He cannot hurl away his money better. * And matrimony, quasi matter of money.] This is not one of the worst of those idle conundrums, -which were once so much in vogue. Even the grave Camden did not disdain to unbend with them ; first taking care, however, to sanction his practice by the laudable example of one Dionysius, like himself, perhaps, a schoolmaster, who " merrily " called mice.holes mysteria, /XUOTTJflW, QT* TSJ JW.UJ r>jf?e*, G 2 84 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Sir Moth. He shall get so much, sir, by my acquaintance, To be my friend ; and now report to his lords As I deserve, no otherwise. Com. But well ; And I will witness it, and to the value: Four hundred is the price, if I mistake not, Of your true friend in court. Take hands, you have bought him, And- bought him cheap. Bias. I am his worship's servant. Com. And you his slave, sir Moth, seal'd and deliver'd. Have you not studied the court-compliment? [Exeunt Sir Moth, and Bias. Here are a pair of humours reconciled now, That money held at distance, or their thoughts, Baser than money. Enter Polish driving in Nurse Keep. Pol. Out, thou caitiff witch, Bawd, beggar, gipsey ; any thing, indeed, But honest woman ! Keep. What you please, dame Polish, My lady's stroker. 8 Com. What is here to do ! The gossips out ! [Aside. Pol. Thou art a traitor to me, An Eve, the apple, and the serpent too ; A viper, that hast eat a passage through me, Through mine own bowels, by thy rechlessness. Com. What frantic fit is this ? I'll step aside, And hearken to it [Retires. ' My lady's stroker.] i. e. flatterer : so the word is frequently used by Jonson. In the list of characters, goody Polish is called the lady's she-paradte, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 85 Pol. Did I trust thee, wretch, With such a secret, of that consequence, Did so concern me, and my child, our livelihood, And reputation ! and hast thou undone us, By thy connivance, nodding in a corner, And suffering her be got with child so basely ? Sleepy, unlucky hag ! thou bird of night, And all mischance to me ! Keep. Good lady empress, Had I the keeping of your daughter's clicket In charge, was that committed to my trust ? Com. Her daughter ! [Aside. Pol. Softly, devil, not so loud : You'd have the house hear and be witness, would you ? Keep. Let all the world be witness : afore I'll Endure the tyranny of such a tongue, And such a pride Pol. What will you do ? Keep- Tell truth, And shame the she-man-devil in pufFd sleeves ; Run any hazard, by revealing all Unto my lady ; how you changed the cradles, And changed the children in them. Pol. Not so high ! Keep. Calling your daughter Pleasance there Placentia, And my true mistress by the name of Pleasance. Com. A horrid secret this ; worth the discovery. Pol. And must you be thus loud ? Keep. I will be louder, And cry it through the house, through every room, And every office of the laundry-maids, Till it be borne hot to my lady's ears : Ere I will live in such a slavery, I'll do away myself. 86 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Pol. Didst thou not swear To keep it secret ! And upon what book ? I do remember now, The Practice of Piety \ Keep. It was a practice of impiety, Out of your wicked forge, I know it now, My conscience tells me : first, against the infants, To rob them of their names and their true parents ; To abuse the neighbourhood, keep them in error ; But most my lady; she has the main wrong, And I will let her know it instantly. Repentance, if it be true, ne'er comes too late. rj&v. Pol. What have I done ? conjured a spirit up, I shall not lay again ! drawn on a danger And ruin on myself thus, by provoking A peevish fool, whom nothing will pray off Or satisfy, I fear ! her patience stirr'd, Is turn'd to fury. I have run my bark On a sweet rock, by mine own arts and trust ; And must get off again, or dash in pieces. [Exit. Com. ', coming forward.] This was a business worth the listening after. Enter Pleasance. Plea. O master Compass, did you see my mother ? Mistress Placentia, my lady's niece, Is newly brought to bed of the bravest boy ! Will you go see it? Com. First, I'll know the father, Ere I approach these hazards. Plea. Mistress midwife Has promised to find out a father for it, If there be need. Com, She may the safelier do it, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 87 By virtue of her place. But, pretty Pleasance, I have a news for you I think will please you. Plea. What is it, master Compass ? Com. Stay, you must Deserve it ere you know it. Where's my lady ? Plea. Retired unto her chamber, and shut up. Com. She hears of none of this yet ? Well, do you Command the coach, and fit yourself to travel A little way with me. Plea. Whither, for God's sake? Com. Where I'll entreat you not to your loss, believe it, If you dare trust yourself. Plea. With you the world o'er. Com. The news will well requite the pains, I assure you, And in this tumult you will not be miss'd. Command the coach, it is an instant business, Will not be done without you. [Exit Pleasance, Enter Palate. Parson Palate ! Most opportunely met; step to my chamber; I'll come to you presently : there is a friend Or two will entertain you. [Exit Palate, Enter Practice. Master Practice, Have you the license ? Prac. Here it is.- Com. Let's see it : Your name's not in it. Prac, I'll fill that presently. 88 THE MAGNETIC LADY. It has the seal, which is the main, and register'd ; The clerk knows me, and trusts me. Com. Have you the parson ? Pruc. They say he's here, he 'pointed to come hither. Com. I would not have him seen here for a world, To breed suspicion. Do you intercept him, And prevent that. But take your license with you, And fill the blank ; or leave it here with me, I'll do it for you ; stay you for us at his church, Behind the Old Exchange, we'll come in the coach, And meet you there within this quarter at least. Prac. I am much bound unto you, master Compass ; You have all the law and parts of squire Practice For ever at your use. I'll tell you news too : Sir, your reversion's fallen ; Thinwit's dead, Surveyor of the projects general. Com. When died he ? Prac. Even this morning ; I received it From a right hand. Com. Conceal it, master Practice And mind the main affair you are in hand with. [Exit Practice. Re-enter Pleasance. Plea. The coach is ready, sir. Com. 'Tis well, fair Pleasance, Though now we shall not use it ; bid the coach- man Drive to the parish-church, and stay about there, Till master Practice come to him, and employ him. [Exit Pleasance. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 89 I have a license now, which must have entry Before my lawyer's. Re-enter Palate. Noble parson Palate, Thou shalt be a mark advanced ; here is a piece,' [Gives him money. And do a feat for me. Pal. What, master Compass ? Com. But run the words of matrimony over My head and mistress Pleasance's in my chamber ; There's captain Ironside to be a witness, And here's a license to secure thee. Parson, What do you stick at ? Pal. It is afternoon, sir ; Directly against the canon of the church : You know it, master Compass : and beside, I am engaged unto your worshipful friend, The learned master Practice, in that business. Com. Come on, engage yourself : who shall be able To say you married us but in the morning, The most canonical minute of the day, If you affirm it ? That's a spiced excuse, And shews you have set the canon law before Any profession else, of love or friendship. Re-enter Pleasance. Come mistress Pleasance, we cannot prevail With the rigid parson here; but, sir, I'll keep you 6 Noble parson Palate, Thou shalt be a mark advanced ; here is a piece,] Here is a itring of puns : the mark (13#. 4d.) added to the noble (6$. Sd.) made up the piece. SO THE MAGNETIC LADY. Lock'd in my lodging, till't be done elsewhere, And under fear or' Ironside. Pal. Do you bear, sir ? Coin. No, no, it matters not. Pal. Can you think, sir, I would deny you any thing, not to loss Of both my livings? I will do it for you ; Have you a wedding-ring ? Com. Ay, and a posie : Annulus hie nobis, quod scit uterque, dabit. Pal. Good ! This ring will give you what you both desire. I'll make the whole house chant it, and the parish. Com, Why, well said, parson. Now, to you my news, That comprehend my reasons, mistress Pleasance. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Room in the Same. Enter Mother Chair with a child, Polish, Keep, and Needle. Chair. Go, get a nurse, procure her at what rate You can; and out of the house with it, son Needle; It is a bad commodity. Nee. Good mother, I know it, but the best would now be made on't. [Exit with the child. Chair. And shall. You should not fret so, mistress Polish, Nor you, dame Keep ; my daughter shall do well, When she has ta'en my caudle. I have known Twenty such breaches pieced up and made whole, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 91 Without a bum of noise. You two fall out, And tear up one another ! Pol. Blessed woman. Blest be the peace-maker ! Keep. The pease-dresser i 7 I'll hear no peace from her. I have been wrong'd, So has my lady, my good lady's worship, And I will right her, hoping she'll right me. Pol. Good gentle Keep, I pray thee mistress nurse, Pardon my passion, I was misadvised ; Be thou yet better, by this grave sage woman, Who is the mother of matrons and great persons, And knows the world. Keep. I do confess, she knows Something and I know something Pol. Put your somethings Together then. Chair. Ay, here's a chance fallen out You cannot help ; less can this gentlewoman ; I can, and will, for both. First, I have sent By-chop away ; the cause gone, the fame ceaseth. Then by my caudle and my cullice, I set My daughter on her feet, about the house here; She's young, and must stir somewhat for necessity, Her youth will bear it out. She shall pretend To have had a fit o' the mother ; there is all. If you have but a secretary laundress, To blanch the linen Take the former counsels Into you ; keep them safe in your own breasts, And make your market of them at the highest. Will you go peach, and cry yourself a fool At grannam's cross ! be laugh'd at and despised ! Betray a purpose, which the deputy Of a double ward, or scarce his alderman, With twelve of the wisest questmen could find out, 7 The pease'dresscr !] See toI. ii. p. 133. 92 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Employed by the authority of the city ! Come, come, he frieuds ; and keep these women- matters, Smock-secrets to ourselves, in our own verge: We shall mar all, if once we ope the mysteries Of the tiring house, and tell what's done within. No theatres are more cheated with appearances, Or these shop-lights, than the ages, and folk in them, That seem most curious. Pol. Breath of an oracle ! You shall be my dear mother; wisest woman That ever lipp'd her tongue with point of reasons, To turn her hearers ! Mistress Keep, relent, I did abuse thee ; I confess to penance, And on my knees ask thee forgiveness, [kneels. Chair. Rise, She doth begin to melt, I see it. Keep. Nothing Grieved me so much as when you call'd me bawd : Witch did not trouble me, nor gipsey ; no, Nor beggar : but a bawd was such a name ! Chair. No more rehearsals ; repetitions Make things the worse : the more we stir you know The proverb, and it signifies a stink. What's done and dead, let it be buried : New hours will fit fresh handles to new thoughts. [Exeunt. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 93 SCENE III. Another Room in the Same, Enter sir Moth Interest, and Servant. Sir Moth. Run to the church, sirrah ; get all the drunkards To ring the bells, and jangle them for joy My niece has brought an heir unto the house, A lusty boy ! [Exit Servant.] Where is my sister Loadstone ?- Enter lady Loadstone. Asleep at afternoons ! it is not wholesome ; Against all rules of physic, lady sister. The little doctor will not like it. Our niece Is new deliver'd of a chopping child, Can call the father by the name already, If it but ope the mouth round. Master Compass, He is the man, they say, fame gives it out, Hath done that act of honour to our house, And friendship, to pump out a son and heir That shall inherit nothing, surely nothing From me, at least. Enter Compass. I come to invite your ladyship To be a witness ; 8 I will be your partner, And give it a horn-spoon, and a treen-dish, Bastard, and beggar's badges, with a blanket For dame the doxy to march round the circuit, With bag and baggage. To be a witness;] i. e. a godmother. A puritanical terra. Thus in Bart. Fair : " He (Rabbi Busy) was witness for Win tare : they will not be called godfathers." 94 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Com. Thou malicious knight, Envious sir Moth, that eats on that which feeds thee, And frets her goodness that -sustains thy being! What company of mankind would own thy bro- therhood, But as thou hast a title to her blood, Whom thy ill-nature hath chose out t' insult on, And vex thus, for an accident in her house, As if it were her crime, good innocent lady ! Thou shew'st thyself a true corroding vermin, Such as thou art. Sir Moth. Why, gentle master Compass ? Because I wish you joy of your young son, And heir to the house, you have sent us? Com. I have sent you ! I know not what I shall do. Come in, friends : Enter Ironside, sir Diaphanous Silkworm, Palate, and Pleasance. Madam, I pray you be pleased to trust yourself Unto our company. Lady L. I did that too late ; Which brought on this calamity upon me, With all the infamy I hear ; your soldier, That swaggering guest. Coin. Wno is return'd here to you, Your vowed friend and servant; comes to sup with you, (So we do all,) and will prove he hath deserv'd That special respect and favour from you, As not your fortunes, with yourself to boot, Cast on a feather-bed, and spread on the sheets Under a brace of your best Persian carpets, Were scarce a price to thank his happy merit. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 95 Sir Moth. What impudence is this ! can you endure To hear it, sister? Com. Yes, and you shall hear it, Who will endure it worse. What deserves he, In your opinion, madam, or weigh'd judgment, That, things thus hanging as they do in doubt, Suspended and suspected, all involv'd, And wrapt in error, can resolve the knot ? Redintegrate the fame first of your house, Restore your ladyship's quiet, render then Your niece a virgin and unvitiated, And make all plain and perfect, as it was, A practice to betray you, and your name? Sir Moth. He speaks impossibilities. Com. Here he stands, Whose fortune hath done this, and you must thank him. To what you call his swaggering, we owe all this: And that it may have credit with you, madam, Here is your niece, whom I have married, witness These gentlemen, the knight, captain, and parson, And this grave politic tell-troth of the court. Lady L. What's she that I call niece then? Com. Polish's daughter : Her mother, goody Polish, has confess'd it Togrannam Keep, the nurse, how they did change The children in their cradles. Lady L. To what purpose ? Com. To get the portion, or some part of it, Which you must now disburse entire to me, sir, If I but gain her ladyship's consent. Lady L. I bid God give you joy, if this be true. Com. As true it is, lady, lady, in the song. 9 9 Lady, lady, in the song.] This song, which is noticed in many of our old plays, may be found in Percy's Reliques of Anlient Poetry, vol. I. p. 204. 95 THE MAGNETIC LADY. The portion's mine, with interest, sir Moth ; I will not bate you a single Harrington, Of interest upon interest : In mean time, I do commit you to the guard of Ironside, My brother here, captain Rudhudibrass ; From whom I will expect you, or your ransom. Sir Moth. Sir, you must prove it, and the pos- sibility, Ere I believe it. Com For the possibility, I leave to trial. Enter Practice. Truth shall speak itself. O, master Practice, did you meet the coach ? Prac. Yes, sir, but empty. Com. Why, I sent it for you. The business is dispatch'd here ere you come : Come in, I'll tell you how ; you are a man Will look for satisfaction, and must have it. All, So we do all, and long to hear the right. [_Exeunt. Dam. Troths I am one of those that labour with the same longing, for it is almost puckered, and pulled into that knot by your poet, which I cannot easily, with all the strength of my imagination, untie, Boy. Like enough, nor is it in your office to be troubled or perplexed with it, but to sit still, and expect. The more your imagination busies itself, the more it is intangled, especially if (as I told in the beginning) you happen on the wrong end. Pro. He hath said sufficient, brother Damplay : our parts that are the spectators, or should hear a comedy, are to wait the process and events oj things, as the poet presents them, not as we would corruptly THE MAGNETIC LADY. 97 fashion them. We come here to behold plays, and censure them, as they are made, and fitted j or us ; not to beslave our own thoughts, with censorious spittle tempering the poefs clay, as we were to mould every scene anew : that were a mere plastic or pot- ter's ambition, most unbecoming the name of a gen- tleman. No, let us mark, and not lose the business on foot, by talking. Follow the right thread, or find it. Dam. Why, here his play might have ended, if he would have let it ; and have spared us the vexation of a fifth act yet to come, which every one here knows the issue of already, or may in part conjecture. Boy. That conjecture is a kind of figure flinging, or throwing the dice, for a meaning was never in the poefs purpose perhaps. Stay, and see his last act, his catastrophe, how he will perplex that, or spring some fresh cheat, to entertain the spectators, with a con- venient delight, till some unexpected and new en- counter break out to rectify all, and make good the conclusion. Pro. Which, ending here, would have shown dull, flat, and unpointed ; without any shape or sharpness, brother Damplay. Dam. Well, let us expect then : and wit be with us, on the poefs part ! VOL. vi. H 93 THE MAGNETIC LADY, ACT V. SCENE I. A Room in lady Loadstone's House. Enter Needle and Item. Nee. Troth, master Item, here's a house di- vided, And quarter'd into parts, by your doctor's ingine. He has cast out such aspersions on my lady's Niece here, of having had a child ; as hardly Will be wiped off, I doubt. Item. Why, is't not true ? Nee True ! did you think it ? Item. Was she not in labour, The midwife sent for r Nee. There's your error now ! You have drunk of the same water. Item. I believed it, And gave it out too. Nee. More you wrong'd the party ; She had no such thing about her, innocent creature ! Item. What had she then ? Nee. Only a fit of the mother : They burnt old shoes, goose-feathers, assafoetida, A few horn shaviugs, with a bone or two, And she is well again, about the house. Item. Is't possible ? Nee. See it, and then report it. Item. Our doctor's urinal judgment is half- crack'd then. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 99 Nee. Crack'd in the case most hugely with my lady, And sad sir Moth, her brother; who is now Under a cloud a little. Item. Of what ? disgrace? Nee. He is committed to Rudhudi brass, The captain Ironside, upon displeasure, From master Co:npass ; but it will blow off. Item. The doctor shall reverse this instantly, And set all right again ; if you'll assist But in a toy, squire Needle, comes in my noddle now. Nee. Good ! Needle and noddle! what may't be? I long for't Item. Why, but to go to bed, feign a distemper Of walking in your sleep, or talking in't A little idly, but so much, as on it The doctor may have ground to raise a cure For his reputation. Nee. Any thing, to serve The worship of the man I love and honour. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Room in the Same, Enter Polish and Pleasance. Pol. O ! give you joy, mademoiselle Compass, You are his whirlpool now : all-to be-married, Againstyourmother's leave, and without counsel ! He has fish'd fair, and caught a frog, I fear it. What fortune have you to bring him in dower? You can tell stories now ; you know a world Of secrets to discover. Ha 100 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Plea. I know nothing But what is told me, nor can I discover Any thing. Pol. No, you shall not, I'll take order. Go, get you in there : [Exit Pleasance.] It is Ember-week, I'll keep you fasting from his flesh awhile. Enter Chair and Keep with Piacentia. Chair. See who is here ! she has been with my lady, Who kist her, all-to-be-kist her, twice or thrice. Keep. And call'd her niece again, and view'd her linen. Pol. You have done a miracle, mother Chair. Chair. Not I, My caudle has done it: thank my caudle heartily. Pol. It shall be thank'd, and you too, wisest mother; You shall have a new, brave, four-pound beaver- hat, Set with enamell'd studs, as mine is here ; And a right pair of crystal spectacles, Crystal o' the rock, thou mighty mother of dames! Hung in an ivory case, at a gold belt ; And silver bells to gingle, as you pace Before your fifty daughters in procession To church, or from the church. Chair. Thanks, mistress Polish. Keep. She does deserve as many pensions As there be pieces in a maiden-head, Were I a prince to give them. Pol. Come, sweet charge, You shall present yourself about the house; Be confident, and bear up ; you shall be seen. [Exeunt. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 101 SCENE III. Another Room in the Same. Enter Compass, Ironside, and Practice. Com. What ! I can make you amends, my learned counsel, And satisfy a greater injury To chafed master Practice Who would think That you could be thus testy ? Iron. A grave head, Given over to the study of our laws. Com. And the prime honours of the common- wealth. Iron. And you to mind a wife ! Com. What should you do With such a toy as a wife, that might distract you, Or hinder you in your course? Iron. He shall not think on't. Com. I will make over to you my possession Of that same place is fall'n, you know, to satisfy ; Surveyor of the projects general. Iron. And that's an office you know how to stir in. Com. And make your profits of. Iron. Which are indeed The ends of a gown'd man : shew your activity, And how you are built for business. Prac. I accept it As a possession, be it but a reversion. Com. You first told me 'twas a possession. Prac. Ay, I told you that I heard so. 102 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Iron. All is one, He'll make a reversion a possession quickly. Com. But I must have a general release from you. Prac. Do one, I'll do the other. Com. It 's a match, Before my brother Ironside. Prac Tis done. Com. We two are reconciled then. Iron. To a lawyer, That can make use of a place, any half title Is better than a wife. Com. And will save charges Of coaches, vellute gowns, and cut-work smocks. Iron. He is to occupy an office wholly. Com. True ; I must talk with you nearer, mas- ter Practice, About recovery of my wife's portion, What way I were best to take. Prac. The plainest way. Com. What's that, for plainness ? Prac. hue him at common law : Arrest him on an action of choke-bail, Five hundred thou>and pound ; it will affright him, And all his sureties. You can prove your mar- riage ? Com. Yes. We'll talk of it within, and hear my lady. \Exeunt. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 103 SCENE IV. Another Room in the Same. Enter sir Moth Interest, and lady Loadstone. Sir Moth. I am sure the vogue of the house went all that way ; She was with child, and master Compass got it. Lady L. Why, that, you see, is manifestly false; He has married the other, our true niece, he says, He would not woo them both : he is not such A stallion, to leap all. Again, no child Appears, that I can find with all my search, And strictest way of inquiry, I have made Through all my family. A fit of the mother, The women say she had, which the mid wife cured, With burning bones and feathers. Enter Rut. Here's the doctor. Sir Moth. O, noble doctor, did not you and your Item Tell me our niece was in labour ? Rut. If I did, What follows ? Sir Moth. And that mother Midnight Was sent for ? Rut. So she was, and is in the house still. Sir Moth. But here has a noise been since, she was deliver'd Of a brave boy, and master Compass's getting. Rut. I know no rattle of gossips, nor their noises : 104 THE MAGNETIC LADY. I hope you take not me for a pimp-errant, To deal in smock affairs. Where is the patient, The infirm man I was sent for, squire Needle ? Lady L. Is Needle sick ? Rut. My pothecary tells me He is in danger Enter Item. How is it, Tim ? where is he? Item. I cannot hold him down. He is up and walks, And talks in his perfect sleep, with his eyes shut, As sensibly as he were broad awake. See, here he comes ; he's fast asleep, observe him. Enter Nek y>lv., followed by Polish, Chair, Keep, and Placentia. Rut. He'll tell us wonders. What do these women here, Hunting a man half naked ? you are fine beagles, You'd have his doucets ! Nee. I have linen breeks on. Rut, He hears, but he sees nothing. Nee. Yes, I see Who hides the treasure yonder. Sir Moth. Ha ! what treasure ? Rut. If you ask questions, he wakes presently, And then you'll hear no more till his next fit. Nee. And whom she hides it for. Rut. Do you mark sir? list. Nee. A fine she spirit it is, an Indian magpye. She was an alderman's widow, and fell in love With our sir Moth, my lady's brother. Rut. Hear you ? Nee. And she has hid an alderman's estate, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 105 Dropt through her bill, in littleholes, in the garden, And scrapes earth over them ; where none can spy But I, who see all by the glow-worm's light, That creeps before. [Exeunt Needle, Chair, Keep, and Placentia. Pol. I knew the gentlewoman, Alderman Parrot's widow, a fine speaker, As any was in the clothing, or the bevy ; She did become her scarlet and black velvet, Her green and purple Rut. Save thy colours, rainbow ! Or she will run thee o'er, and all thy lights. Pol. She dwelt in Do-little-lane, a top o' the hill there, In the round cage was after sir Chime Squirrel's : She would eat nought but almonds, I assure you. Rut. Would thou hadst a dose of pills, a double dose, Of the best purge, to make thee turn tail t'other way ! Pol. You are a foul-mouth'd, purging, absurd doctor ; I tell you true, and I did long to tell it you. You have spread a scandal in my lady's house here, On her sweet niece, you never can take off With all your purges, or your plaister of oaths ; Though you distil your damn- me, drop by drop, In your defence. That she hath had a child, Here she cloth spit upon thee, and defy thee, Or I do't for her ! Rut. Madam, pray you bind her To her behaviour : tie your gossip up, Or send her unto Bethlem. Pol. Go thou thither, That better hast deserv'd it, shame of doctors ! Where could she be deliver'd? by what charm, 106 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Restored to her strength so soon ? who is the father, Or where the infant ? ask your oracle, That walks and talks in his sleep. Rut, Where is he gone ? You have lost a fortune, listening to her tabor. [Aside to sir Moth, Good madam, lock her up. Lady L. You must give losers Their leave to speak, good doctor. Rut, Follow his footing Before he get to his bed ; this rest is lost else. [Exeunt Rut and sir Moth, Enter Compass, Practice, and Ironside. Com. Where is my wife? what have you done with my wife, Gossip of the counsels ? Pol. I, sweet master Compass ! I honour you and your wife. Com. Well, do so still ; I will not call you mother though, but Polish. Good gossip Polish, where have you hid my wife? Pol. I hide your wife ! Com. Or she is run away. Lady L. That would make all suspected, sir, afresh : Come, we will find her if she be in the house. Pol. Why should I hide your wife, good mas- ter Compass ? Com. I know no cause, but that you are goody Polish, That's good at malice, good at mischief, all That can perplex or trouble a business thoroughly. Pol, You may say what you will ; you are master Compass, And carry a large sweep, sir, in your circle. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 107 Lady L. I'll sweep all corners, gossip, to spring this, If 't be above ground. I will have her cried By the common -crier, thorough all the ward, But I will find her. Iron. It will be an act Worthy your justice, madam. Prac. And become The integrity and worship of her name. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Another Room in the Same. Enter Rut and sir Moth Interest. Rut. Tis such a fly, this gossip, with her buz, She blows on every thing, in every place ! Sir Moth A busy woman is a fearful grievance \ Will he not sleep again? Rut. Yes, instantly, As soon as he is warm. It is the nature Of the disease, and all these cold dry fumes That are melancholic, to work at first, Slow and insensibly in their ascent ; Till being got up, and then distilling down Upon the brain, they have a pricking quality That breeds this restless rest, which we, the sons Of physic, call a walking in the sleep, And telling mysteries, that must be heard Softly, with art, as we were sewing pillows Under the patient's elbows ; else they'd fly Into a phrensy, run into the woods, Where there are noises, huntings, shoutings, hallowings, Amidst the brakes and furzes, over bridges 10S THE MAGNETIC LADY. Fall into waters, scratch their flesh, sometimes Drop clown a precipice, and there be lost. Enter Item. How now ! what does he ? Item. He is up again, And 'gins to talk. Sir Moth. Of the former matter, Item? Item. The treasure and the lady, that's his argument. Sir M. O me, [most] happy man ! he cannot off it: I shall know all then. Rut. With what appetite Our own desires delude us ! [Aside.] Hear you, Tim, . ' Let no man interrupt us. Item. Sir Diaphanous And master Bias, his court-friends, desire To kiss his niece's hands, and gratulate The firm recovery of her good fame And honour. Sir Moth. Good ! Say to them, master Item, My niece is on my lady's side ; they'll find her there. I pray to be but spared for half an hour : I'll see them presently. Rut. Do, put them off, Tim, And tell them the importance of the business. Here, he is come ! sooth ; and have all out of him. Enter Needle, talking as in his sleep. Nee. How do you, lady-bird ? so hard at work, still ! THE MAGNETIC LADY. 109 What's that you say ? do you bid me walk, sweet bird, And tell our knight? I will. How ! walk, knave, walk ! ? I think you're angry with me, Pol. Fine Pol ! Pol is a fine bird ! O fine lady Pol ! Almond for Parrot. Parrot's a brave bird. Three hundred thousand pieces have you stuck Edge-long into the ground, within the garden? O bounteous bird ! Sir Moth. And me most happy creature ! Rut. Smother your joy. Nee. How ! and dropp'd twice so many Sir Moth. Ha ! where ? Rut. Contain yourself. Nee. In the old well ? Sir Moth. I cannot, I am a man of flesh and blood : Who can contain himself, to hear the ghost Of a dead lady do such works as these, And a city lady too of the strait waist ? Nee. I will go try the truth of it. [Exit. Rut. He's gone. Follow him, Tim ; see what he does. [Exit Item."] If he bring you A say of it now ! * How ! walk, knave, walk ! &c] " Could tell what subtlest parrots mean ; What member 'tis of whom they talk, When they cry Rope I and Walk, knave, walk !" Butler appears to be very familiar with Jonson's works, to which he has numerous obligations: but Jonson himself is indebted here to maister Skelton, from whom most of this jargon it taken : M Parrot must have an almon,'' &c. Speak Parrot, 110 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Sir Moth. I'll say he's a rare fellow, And has a rare disease. Rut. And I will work As rare a cure upon him. Sir Moth. How, good doctor ? Rut. When he hath utter'd all that you would know of him, I'll cleanse him with a pill as small as a pease, And stop his mouth : for there his issue lies, Between the muscles of the tongue. Re-enter Item. Sir Moth. He's come. Rut. What did he, Item ? Item. The first step he stept Into the garden, he pull'd these five pieces Up, in a finger's breadth one of another : The dirt sticks on them still. Sir Moth. I know enough. Doctor, proceed with your cure, I'll make thee famous, Famous among the sons of the physicians, Machaon, Podalirius, Esculapius. Thou shalt have a golden beard, as well as he had ; And thy Tim Item here, have one of silver ; A livery beard ! and all thy pothecaries Belong to thee. Where is squire Needle? gone? Item. He is prick'd away, now he has done the work. Rut. Prepare his pill, and give it him afore supper. [Exit Item. Sir Moth. I'll send for a dozen of labourers to-morrow, To turn the surface of the garden up. Rut. In mold ; bruise every clod. THE MAGNETIC LADY. HI Sir Moth. And have all sifted, For I'll not lose a piece of the bird's bounty ; And take an inventory of all. Rut. And then, I would go down into the well Sir Moth. Myself; No trusting other hands : six hundred thousand, To the firstthree; nine hundred thousand pound Rut. 'Twill purchase the whole bench of al- derman ity, Stript to their shirts. Sir Moth. There never did accrue So. great a gift to man, and from a lady I never saw but once ; now I remember, We met at Merchant-tailors-hall, at dinner, In Threadneedle-street. Rut. Which was a sign squire Needle Should have the threading of this thread. Sir Moth. 'Tis true ; I shall love parrots better while I know him. Rut. I'd have her statue cut now in white marble. Sir Moth. And have it painted in most orient colours. Rut. That's right ! all city statues must be .painted, Else they be worth nought in their subtle judg- ments. 1 * " All city statues must be painted. Else they be worth nought in their subtle judgments.'] This was probably designed to ridicule the taste, which at that time prevailed with the connoisseurs in the fine arts, who directed the elegance and judgment of the city. Gaudy and profuse ornaments are objects of admiration, with those who haye no relish for the decent simplicity of nature. Whal. This practice sir Henry Wotton calls an English barbarism. If sir Henry were only known by this expression, no great injustice would be done by concluding that he had read to 112 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Enter Bias. Sir Moth. My truest friend in court, dear master Bias ! You hear of the recovery of our niece In fame and credit? Bias. Yes, I have been with her, And gratulated to her ; but I am sorry To find the author of the foul aspersion Here in your company, this insolent doctor. Sir Moth. You do mistake him ; he is clear got off on't : A gossip's jealousy first gave the hint. He drives another way now as I would have him ; He's a rare man, the doctor, in his way. He has done the noblest cure here in the house, On a poor squire, my sister's tailor, Needle, That talk'd in's sleep ; would walk to St. John's wood, And Waltham forest, scape by all the ponds And pits in the way ; run over two-inch bridges, With his eyes fast, and in the dead of night ! I'll have you better acquainted with him. Doctor, Here is my dear, dear, dearest friend in court, Wise, powerful master Bias ; pray you salute Each other, not as strangers, but true friends. Rut. This is the gentleman you brought to-day, A suitor to your niece. Sir Moth. Yes. Rut. You were Agreed, I heard; the writings drawn between you. . Sir Moth. And seal'd. Rut, What broke you off? as little purpose as he had travelled. The custom of painting and gilding statues (however barbarous it may be) is of all ages and countries. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 113 Sir Moth. This rumour of her ; Was it not, master Bias ? Bias. Which I find Now false, and therefore come to make amends In the first place. I stand to the old conditions. Rut. Faith, give them him, sir Moth, whatever they were. You have a brave occasion now to cross The flanting master Compass, who pretends Right to the portion, by the other intail. Sir Moth. And claims it. You do bear lie's married? Bias. We hear his wife is run away from him, Within : she is not to be found in the house, With all the hue and cry is made for her Through every room ; the larders have been search'd, The bake-houses and boulting tub, the ovens, Wash-house and brew-house, nay the very fur- nace, And yet she is not heard of. Sir Moth. Be she ne'er heard of, The safety of Great Britain lies not on't. You are content with the ten thousand pound, Defalking the four hundred garnish-money ? That's the condition here, afore the doctor, And your demand, friend Bias? Bias. It is, sir Moth. Enter Palate. Hut. Here comes the parson then, shall make all sure. Sir Moth. Go you with my friend Bias, parson Palate, Unto my niece ; assure them we are agreed. PaL And mistress Compass too is found within. vol. vr. I 114 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Sir Moth. Where was she hid ? Pal In an old hottle-house, Where they scraped trenchers; there her mother had thrust her. Rut. You shall have time, sir, to triumph on him, Wheu this fine feat is done, and his Rud-Ironside. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Another Room in the Same. Enter Compass, lady Loadstone, Practice, Polish, Chair, and Keep. Com. Was ever any gentlewoman used So barbarously by a malicious gossip, Pretending to be mother to her too? Pol. Pretending ! sir, I am her mother, and challenge A right, and power for what I have done. Com. Out, hag ! Thou that hast put all nature off, and woman, For sordid gain, betray'd the trust committed Unto thee by the dead, as from the living: Changed the poor innocent iufantsin their cradles; Defrauded them of their parents, changed their names, Calling Piacentia, Pleasance ; Pleasance, Pla- centia. Pol. How knows he this? [Aside. Com. Abused the neighbourhood ; But most this lady : didst enforce an oath To this poor woman, on a pious book, To keep close thy impiety. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 115 Pol. Have you told this ? [Aside to the Nurse. Keep. I told it ! no, he knows it, and much more, As he's a cunning man. Pol. A cunning fool, If that be all. Com. But now to your true daughter, That had the child, and is the proper Pleasance, We must have an account of that too, gossip. Pol. This is like all the rest of master Compass. Enter Rut running. Rut. Help, help, for charity ! sir Moth Interest Is fallen into the well. Lady L. Where, where ? Rut. In the garden. A rope to save his life ! Com How came he there ? Rut. He thought to take possession of a fortune There newly dropt him, and the old chain broke, And down fell he in the bucket. Com. Is it deep ? Rut. We cannot tell. A rope, help with a rope ! Enter sir Diaphanous Silkworm, Ironside, Item, and Needle, leading in sir Moth In- terest. Sir Dia. He is got out again. The knight is saved. Iron. A little soused in the watery Needle saved him. Item. The water saved him, 'twas a fair escape. Nee. Have you no hurt? Sir Moth. A little wet. Nee. That's nothing. I 2 116 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Rut. I wish'd you stay, sir, till to-morrow ; and told you It was no lucky hour : since six o' clock All stars were retrograde. Lady L. In the name Of fate, or folly, how came you in the bucket? Sir Moth. That is a quare of another time, sister; The doctor will resolve you who hath done The admirablest cure upon your Needle ! Give me thy hand, good Needle; thou cam'st timely. Take off my hood and coat; and let me shake Myself a little. I have a world of business. Where is my nephew Bias? and his wife ? Enter Bias and Placentia. Who bids God give them joy? here they both stand, As sure affianced as the parson, or words, Can tie them. Rut. We all wish them joy and happiness. Sir Dia. I saw the contract, and can witness it. Sir M. He shall receive ten thousand pounds to-morrow. You look't for't, Compass, or a greater sum, But 'tis disposed of, this, another way : I have but one niece, verily, [master] Compass. Enter a Serjeant. Com. I'll find another. Varlet, do your office. Serj. I do arrest your body, sir Moth Interest, In the king's name; at suit of master Compass, THE MAGNETIC LADY. 117 And dame IMacentia his wife. The action's en- teral, Five hundred thousand pound. Sir Moth. Hear you this, sister ? And hath your house the ears to hear it too, And to resound the affront? Lady L I cannot stop The laws, or hinder justice : I can he Your hail, if it may be taken. Com VVith the captain's, I ask no better. Rttt. Here are better men, Will give their bail. Com. But yours will not be taken, Worshipful doctor ; you are good security For a suit of clothes to the tailor that dares trust you : But not for such a sum as is this action. Varlet, you know my mind. Serj. You must to prison, sir, Unless you can find bail the creditor likes. Sit Moth. I would fain find it, if you'd shew me where. Sir Dia. It is a terrible action ; more indeed Than many a man is worth ; and is call'd Fright- bail. Iron. Faith, I will bail him at mine own apperil. 8 Varlet, be gone : I'll once have the reputation, To be security for such a sum. Bear up, sir Moth. * Faith, I will bail him at mine own apperil.] This is the second example in Jonson of a word which had no existence in the English language, and was therefore taken away from the genuine text of our great poet! See vol. v. p. 137. Both Steevens and Malone make frequent mention of the Case is altered. There, too, the word occurs; though they could never find any thing in that comedy but a sneer at Shakspearc. 118 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Rut. He is not worth the buckles About his belt, and yet this Ironside clashes ! Sir Moth. Peace, lest he hear you, doctor ; we'll make use of him. What doth your brother Compass, captain Ironside, Demand of us, by way of challenge, thus? Iron. Your niece's portion ; in the right of his wife. Sir Moth. I have assured one portion to one niece, And have no more to account for, that I know of: What I may do in charity -if my sister Will bid an offering for her maid and him, As a benevolence to them, after supper, I'll spit into the bason, and entreat My friends to do the like. Com. Spit out thy gall, And heart, thou viper ! I will now no mercy, No pity of thee, thy false niece, and Needle; Enter Pleasance. Bring forth your child, or I appeal you of murder, You, and this gossip here, and mother Chair. Chair. The gentleman's fallen mad ! Plea. No, mistress midwife. I saw the child, and you did give it me, And put it in my arms ; by this ill token, You wish'd me such another ; and it cried. Prac. The law is plain ; if it were heard to cry, And you produce it not, he may indict All that conceal it, of felony and murder. Com. And 1 will take the boldness, sir, to do it : Beginning with sir Moth here, and his doctor. Sir Via. Good faith this same is like to turn a business. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 119 Pal. And a shrewd business, marry ; they all start at it. Com. I have the right thread now, and I will keep it. You, goody Keep, confess the truth to my lady, The truth, the whole truth, nothing hut the truth. Pol. I scorn to be prevented of' my glories. I plotted the deceit, and I will own it. Love to my child, and lucre of the portion Provoked me ; wherein, though the event hath faiPd In part, I will make use of the best side. This is my daughter, [Points to Placentia.] and she hath had a child This day, unto her shame, I now profess it, By this mere false stick, squire Needle; but Since this wise knight hath thought it good to change The foolish father of it, by assuring Her to his dear friend, master Bias ; and him Again to her, by clapping of him on With his free promise of ten thousand pound, Afore so many witnesses Sir Dia. W hereof I Am oue. Pal. And I another. Pol. 1 should be unnatural To my own flesh and blood, would I not thank him. I thank you, sir; and I have reason for it.' 9 How little Jonson is known to the dramatic cr tfcq n ay ')e collected from the silence which they all observe reape* >.,. the character of Airs. Polish, the most perfect ie|)re*enfati< ,, u | a aossipping " toad-eatei ' that the English stat.>. tai bo^st. Supple, voluble, and abounding in anecuote, she w.rs . 6ie v u y to confidence, betravs her (rust, hnsfeits the agents > I hei fcuiit in the madness ot security, and when discoveieu, in spite 01 the 120 THE MAGNETIC LADY. For here your true niece stands, fine miisress Compass, (Til tell you truth, you have deserv'd it from me,) To whom you are by bond engaged to pay The sixteen thousand pound, which is her portion, Due to her husband, on her marriage-day. I speak the truth, and nothing but the truth. Iron. You'll pay it now, sir Moth, with interest: You see the truth breaks out on every side of you. Sir Moth. Into what nets of cozenage am I cast On every side ! each thread is grown a noose, A very mesh: I have run myself into A double brake, of paying twice the money. Bias. You shall be released of paying me a penny, With these conditions. Pol. Will you leave her then ? Bias. Yes, and the sum twice told, ere take a wife, To pick out monsieur Needle's basting-threads. Com. Gossip, you are paid : though he be a fit nature, Worthy to have a whore justly put on him ; He is not bad enough to take your daughter, On such a cheat. Will you yet pay the portion ? Sir Moth. What will you bate ? Com. No penny the law gives. Sir Moth. Yes, Bias's money. Com. What, your friend in court ! readiness of her subterfuges, assumes the most frontless hardihood, and without a touch of penitence for her crime, gaily proceed* to anticipate the reward of her treachery. Such characters are not common ; but they may be found : and to point them out is not the least useful province of the dramatic poet. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 121 I will not rob you of him, nor the purchase, Nor your dear doctor here ; stand all together, Birds of a nature all, and of a feather. Lady L. Well, we are all now reconciled to truth. There rests yet a gratuity from me, To be conferr'd upon this gentleman ; Who, as my nephew Compass says, was cause First of the offence, but since of all the amends. The quarrel caused the affright, that fright brought on The travail, which made peace ; the peace drew on This new discovery, which endeth all In RECONCILEMENT. Com. When the portion Is tender'd, and received. Sir Moth. Well, you must have it ; As good at first as last. Lady L. 'Tis well said, brother. And I, if this good captain will accept me, Give him myself, endow him with my estate, And make him lord of me, and all my fortunes : He that hath saved my honour, though by chance, I'll really study his, and how to thank him. Lron. And I embrace you, lady, and your goodness, And vow to quit all thought of war hereafter; Save what is fought under your colours, madam. Pal. More work then for the parson; I shall cap The Loadstone with an Ironside, I see. Lron. And take in these, the forlorn couple, with us, Needle and his Thread, whose portion I will think on ; As being a business waiting on my bounty : 122 THE MAGNETIC LADY. Thus I do take possession of you, madam, My true Magnetic mistress, and my lady.* [Exeunt. CHORUS changed into an EPILOGUE to the King. Well, gentlemen, I now must, under seal, And the author's charge, wave you, and make my appeal To the supren^est power, my lord the king ; Who best can judge of what we humbly bring. He knows our weakness, and the poefs faults ; Where he doth stand upright, go firm, or halts ; And he zvill doom him. To which voice he stands, And prefers that, fore all the people's hands. * My true Magnetic mistress, and my lady.] We have observed before, that our author seldom produced a play, but it created him enemies : whether it was really, as his antagonists gave out, that his satire was levelled at the foibles of some particular person, or whether it proceeded from that envy, which the other play-wrights of those days conceived against one so much their superior in genius and critical abilities. Langbaine has preserved part of a satire wrote against this play, by Alexander Gill, with Jonson's answer. Gill was usher to his father in St. Paul's school ; he was not void of learning, but of no great regularity in his manners, or his way of living. What was the occasion of their difference does not appear, but our poet treats him roughly enough in his reply. Whal. Whalky knew no more of this satire than the few lines which he found in Langbaine. The Keeper of the Bodleian Library, the Rev. Mr. Bandinell, has with a ready kindness which calls for my warmest acknowledgments, furnished me with a complete copy of it, from the Ashraolc MSS. It seems to have been hastily taken down by Ashmole or his amanuensis, and in one place there is, apparently, an omission of a line or more. It might perhaps be rendered somewhat more intelligible by a few obvious corrections, but 1 have preferred presenting it to the reader just us it stands in the only copy now perhaps in existence. Whalley says that " the origin of their difference does not appear." It had no other origin than the petulant malignity of THE MAGNETIC LADY. US Gill ; for Jonson had given him no offence whatever; nor indeed does Gill even hint at his having received the slightest provo- cation from him. His exultation over the bed-ridden poet is that of a '* fiend rn glee," such, in fact, as might be expected from a character like Gill ; splenetic, turbulent, and ferocious. UPPON BEN JOHNSON'S MAGNETICK LADYE. Parturient Montes Nascetur. Is this you r loade-stone Ben that must attract Applause and laughter att each Scaene and Act Is this the Childe of your bedridden vvitt An none but the Blacke-friers foster ytt If to the Fortune you had sent you' Ladye 5 Mongest Prentizes, and Apell wyfes, ytt may bee You 1 Rosie Foole, might have some sporte haue gott W lh his strang-habitt, and indiffinett nott But when as silkes and plush, and all the witt Are calde to see, and censure, as be fitte 10 And yff you r follye takejiot, they perchance Must here them selfes stilde Gentle Ignorance Foh how ytt stinckes ; what generall offence Gives thy prophanes; and grosse impudence v. 8- and indiffinett notf] The allusion is pro- bably to the dress of captain Ironside, though it is not always easy to decypher the writer's meaning. It seems scarcely possi- ble that this barbarous orthography should have proceeded from a scholar like Gill ; and yet he is twitted with similar faults in a short poem addressed to him about this time, and called " Gill's Ass uncased." u Sir, did you this Epistle send, "Which is so vile and lewdly penu'd ? In which no line I can espy Of sense, or true orthography" &c. y. 13. what generall offence Gives thy prophanes ; and grosse impudence - ] If GiU al- ludes to the oaths in this pla) , as it was acted on the first night, they were the players' not the poet's who was not present at the representation, and whose justification, under the hand of the master of the revels, is still extant. In the Magnetic Lady, as given by Jonson, there is neither piofancncss nor impudence. 124 THE MAGNETIC LADY. O how thy frind, Nat Butter gan to melte 15 And Inigo w th laugheter thergrewe fatt That thtar was nothing worth the laughing att And yett thou crazve art confidente Belchingc out full mouthd oathes w th foulle intent Calling vs fooles and rogues vnlettered men 20 Poore narrow soules that cannott judge of Ben : Yet w ch is worss after three shamfull foylcs The Printers must be put to further toyles "Whereas indeed to (vindicate thy fame) Th' hadst better give thy Parophelett to the flame 25 O what a strange prodigious yeare twill bee Yff this thy playe come forth in thirtye three Lett Doomesday rather come on Newyeares eve And yff thy paper plague the worlde bercaue "W ch Plaugc I feare worse than a Serjeants bitt 30 Worse tlien the Infection or an Ague fitt Worse then Astronomers deuynning fipps "Worse then three sunns, a Comett or Eclipps Or yff thy learned brother Allcslree (Whose Homer unto the for Poetrye), 35 Should tell of raigne vppon Saint Swithins day And that should wash our haruest clean a way As for the Press ; yf thy Playe must come toote Lett Thomas Pursfoot or John Trundell dootte But Gill was a bad poet and a worse man ; and calumny and falsehood were the elements in which he loved to move. After this line, something appears to be lost. The triumph of Nathaniel Butter and Inigo Jones at Jonson's ill success, shews, at least, that the feelings of enmity were not, in all cases, confined to the unfortunate poet. v. 26. vkat a strange prodigious ycare tvcill bee Yff tins thy playe come forth in thirtye three'] This ri- baldry might have been spared. Jonson entertained no design of printing the Magnetic Lady, nor was it given to the press till 1640, (three years after his death,) a year that must have ap- peared somewhat i( prodigious" to Gill for a much nearer cause than the production of a harmless play, for it witnessed the merited dismissal of the wretched scribbler himself from the mastership of St. Paul's school, to which he had been advanced in 1635, and which he had disgraced for five years by his cru- elties and his crimes. t. 35. ' thy learned brother /Jllestrre.} For this person, who is declared a to be a Homer to Jonson, see p. 81. The allusion is to the miserable doggrcl which accompanied his almanacs, and THE MAGNETIC LADY. l<25 In such dull charrecters as for releiffs 40 Of fires and wrackes wee find in begglne breefes But in capp paper lett ytt printed bee Indeed browne paper is too good for thee And lett ytt bee soe apocriphall .As nott to dare to venture on a stall 45 Exceppt ytt bee of Druggcrs Grocers Cookes Victuallers Tobackoe men and such like Rookes From Backers Burye lett ytt not be barde But thincke nott of Ducke lane or Paules Churchyarde Butt to aduyse the Ben, in this strickt age 50 A brickehills better for the then a stage Thou better knowes a groundsell how to laye Then lay the plott or groundeworke of a playe And better canst derecte to capp a chimney Then to conuerse with Clio or Polihimny 55 Fall then to worke in thy old age agen Take vpp you r trugg and trowell gentle Ben Lett playes alone and yff thou needs wilte wright And thrust thy feeble Muse into the light Lett Lownie cease, and Taylore feare to touch 60 The loathed stage ; for thou hast made ytt such. Alexander Gill. Gill's scurrility was not allowed to pass with impunity. Many answers were made to it. The following by Zouch Townley is preserved among the Ashmole papers. Mr. ZOUCH TOWNLYE to Mr. BEN JOHNSON, against Mr. Alexander Gill's verses written against the play called the Magnetick Ladye. It cannot moue thy friend, firm Ben, that he,* Whom the star-chamber censur'd, rayles at thee, which is yet retailed by his "Homeric" successors, Moore, Wing, &c. v. 56. Fall then to worke in thy old age agen] When this friendly counsel was given, Jonson had been confined to his room many years, by a complication of disorders, and was obliged to have recourse to the pen, in his short intervals of ease, for a sub- sistence. The advice, however, was not unworthy of the giver. * . that he V/hom the star-chamber censured, &c] Something of this 126 THE MAGNETIC LADY. I gratulatc the method of thy fate That joyn'd thee next in malice to the state: Thus Nero, after parricidall guilt, Brooks noe delayes till Luean's blood bee spilt ; Nor could his misehife finde a second crime, Unles hee slew the poet of the time. But, thanks to Helicon, here arc no blows, This drone no more of stinge then honye shows : His verses shall be counted censures, when Cast malefactors are made jurie-men. Meane while rejoyce, that soc disgrae'd a quill 'Tempted to wound that worth, time cannot kill. appears among Aubrey's papers. (t Sir William Davenant (poet laureat) told me that notwithstanding this doctor's great reason he was guiltie of the detestable crime of treachery. Dr. Gill, F (ilius) Dris Gill, schoolmaster of Paul*s School, and Chilling- worth, held weekly intelligence one with another for some yeares, wherein they used to nibble at state matters. Dr. Gill, in one of his letters, calls King James and his sonne the old foole and the young one, which letter Chillingworth communi- cated to W. Laud, A. B. Cant. The poore young Dr. Gille was seized, and a terrible storme pointed towards him, which by the eloquent intercession and advocation of Edward, Earl of Dorset, together with the teares of the poore old doctor, his lather, and supplication on his knees to his majesty, were blowne over." Vol. II. p. 285. The same circumstance is also mentioned in Gill's Ass uncased. 41 But now remains the vilest thing, Thy ale-house barking 'gainst the king, And all his brave and noble peers, For which thou venturedst for thy ears : And if thou hadst thy right Cut off they had been quite, And thou hadst been a rogue in sight," &c. From the same poem it appears that Gill had given great offence at Trinity College by his indecent performance of the Chapel service, while he was reading clerk, for which he was tost in a blanket. His conduct as a minister was not more correct. " For since that thou a preacher were Thou vented hast such rascal gear, That even the freshmen all cr/'d fie! To hear such pulpit rifeaudrie," &c. THE MAGNETIC LADY. 127 And thou, who dar'st to blast fame fully blown, Lye buried in the mines of thine own. Vex not thine ashes, open not the deep, The ghost of thy slain name would rather sleep. ZOUCH TOWNLYE. MS. Ashmole, Numb. 38 (6907) fol. 59. But Jonson wanted no assistance. Feeble as he was, he was yet more than competent to the chastisement of such a character as Gill ; and in the following brief retort, as full of scorn as bitter- ness, put him to silence if not to shame. No more is heard of " young master Gill." Shall the prosperity of a pardon still Secure thy railing rhimes, infamous Gill, At libelling? Shall no Star chamber peers, Pillory, nor whip, [nor cart] nor want of ears, All which thou hastincurr'd deservedly, Nor degradation from the ministry, To be the Denis of thy father's school,* Keep in thy bawling wit, thou bawling fool ? Thinking to stir me, thou hast lost thy end, I'll laugh at thee, poor wretched tike : go send Thy blatant muse abroad, and teach it rather A tune to drown the ballads of thy father : For thou hast nought in thee, to cure his fame, But tune and noise, the echo of his shame. A rogue by statute, censur'd to be whipt, Cropt, branded, slit, neck-stockt : Go, you are stript ! * To be the Denis of thy fathers school.] Gill had been usher to his father as well as to the learned Farnaby, from whom he certainly did not acquire his spleen against Jonson. The " bal- lads of Gill the father," I never met with, nor indeed any other work of his but the Logonomie, a conceited and barbarous at- tempt to " rectify the writing of the English language," which seems to hare fallen into the hands of the late James Elphinstone. TALE OF A TUB VOL. VI. A Tale of a Tub.] This comedy was licensed by sir Henry Herbert for (he Black Friars, May 7th, 1633, and was the las* piece which Jon son brought on the stage. It was not printed till 1610, three years after his death, when it appeared in the second folio. Of its fate on the stage, there is no account ; but it was coldly received at court, where it was played before the King and Queen, January 14th, 1634. Jonson probably expected little from it, for he speaks ot it with sufficient humility, both in the prologue and the motto : the latter is taken from Catullus. Inficeto est inficetio?' rure. PROLOGUE. No state-affairs, nor any politic club, Pretend we in our Tale, here, of a Tub :' But acts of clowns and constables, to-day Stuff out the scenes of our ridiculous play. A coopers wit, or some such busy spark, Illumining the high constable, and his clerk, And all the neighbourhood, from old records, Of antique proverbs, drawn from Whitson-lords : And their authorities, at Wakes and Ales, With country precedents, and old wives tales, We bring you now, to shew what different things The cotes of clowns are from the courts of kings. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Chanon (canon) Hugh, vicar of Pancras and captain Thums. Squire Tub, orTripoly, of Tot ten- Court. 1 Basket Hilts, his man and governor. Justice Preamble, alias Bramble, of Maribone. Miles Metaphor, his clerk. Pol Martin, huishtr to lady Tub. Tobie Turfe, high constuble of Kentish-town. John Clay, of Kilborn, tilemaker, the bridegroom. In-and-in Med lay, of Islington, cooper and head- boroug h. Rasi' Clench, of Hamstead, farrier and petty con- stable. To-Pan, tinker, or metal-man of Belsise, third- borough Diogenes Beriberi, of Chukot, the great writer. Haniiibal (Bali) Puppy, Me high constable's man. Father Rosin, the minstrel, and his two Hoys. Black Jack, lady Tub's butler. Lady Tub, of Tot ten. the Squire's mother. Dido Wispe, her woman. Sibil Turfe, wife to the high-constable. Awtirey Turfe, her daughter, the bride. Joan, Joyce, Madge, Parnel, Grisel, and Kate, maids of the bridal. Servants. SCENE, Finsbury Hundred. '* Totten-Court, or Tottcn-Hall, now absorbed in the metro- polis, was, when this was written, a hamlet, in the parish of St. Pancras. A TALE OF A TUB. ACT I. SCENE L Totten Court. Before lady Tub's House. Enter canon Hugh. Hugh. Now on my faith, old bishop Valentine, You have brought us nipping weather Februere Doth cut and shear your day and diocese Are very cold. All your parishioners, As well your laics as your quiristers, Had need to keep to their warm feather beds, If they be sped of loves: 1 this is no season, 1 If they be sped of loves :] i. e. already furnished with makes or mates ; for then they need not rise early to find a Valentine. The good " old bishop" is somewhat oddly selected for the patron of this amatory device, as all that seems known of him is that he suffered martyrdom in the third century. Lady Tub, however, in the concluding scene of this act, gives a full, and, indeed, an elegant description of his virtues, as they are found perhaps in the Legend. It is probable that his name occupied, in the Ca- lendar, the place of some heathen divinity, whose rites were thus celebrated; for the origin of the practice is lost in remote antiquity. This pretty superstition exists in almost every part of the continent, as well as in England ; and long may it continue to 1S4 A TALE OF A TUB. To seek new makes in ; though sir Hugh of Pancras Be hither come to Totten, on intelligence, To the young lord of the manor, 'squire Tripoly, On such an errand as a mistress is. What, 'squire ! I say. [calls.] Tub I should call him too : Sir Peter Tub was his father, a saltpetre-man ; Who left his mother, lady Tub of Totten- Court, here, to revel, and keep open house in ; With the young 'squire her son, and's governor Basket- Hilts, both by sword and dagger : [calls again.] Domine, Armiger Tub, 'squire Tripoly ! Expergiscere ! I dare not call aloud lest she should hear me, And think I conjured up the spirit, her son, In priest's lack-Latin : O she is jealous Of all mankind for him. Tub. [appears at the window\ Canon, is't you ? Hugh. The vicar of Pancras, 'squire Tub ! wa'hoh ! Tub. I come, I stoop unto the call, sir Hugh ! Hugh. He knows my lure is from his love, fair Awdrey, The high constable's daughter of Kentish-town here, master Tobias Turfe. Enter Tub in his night 'gown. Tub. What news of him ? Hugh. He has waked me An hour before I would, sir ; and my duty do so! The affectation of superior wisdom has shamed the people out of too many of those innocent follies, and left their places to be supplied by grossness and vice. A TALE OF A TUB. 135 To the young worship of Totten-Court, 'squire Tripoly ; Who hath my heart, as I have his : Your mistress Is to be made away from you this morning, St. Valentine's day : there are a knot of clowns, The council of Finsbury, so they are styled, Met at her father's ; all the wise of the hundred; Old Rasi' Clench of Hamstead, petty constable, In-and-in Medlay, cooper of Islington, And beadborough ; with loud To-Pan the tinker, Or metal-man of Belsise, the thirdborough; 2 And D'ogenesScriben, the great writer of Chalcot. Tub. And why all these ? Hugh. Sir, to conclude in council, A husband or a make for mistress Awdrey ; Whom they have named aud pricked down, Clay of Kilborn, A tough young fellow, and a tilemaker. Tub. And what must he do ? Hugh. Cover her, they say ; And keep her warm, sir : mistress Awdrey Turfe, Last night did draw him for her Valentine ; Which chance, it hath so taken her father and mother, (Because themselves drew so on Valentine's eve Was thirty year,) as they will have her married To-day by any means; they have sent a messenger To Kilborn, post, for Clay ; which when I knew, I posted with the like to worshipful Tripoiy, The squire of Totten : and my ad \ ice to cross it. * The thirdborough ;] I know not how this officer was distin- guished from the constable, unless by name. In the old divisions of municipal power, he was the third in rank in the decennary or tithing. In the Dramatis ttrsonce, Jonson enumerates every civil officer from the justice to the high constable's man. The thirdborough is mentioned by the hostess in Taming the Shrew,, to intimidate the refractory Sly : " I know my remedy : I must go fetch the thirdborough." 136 A TALE OF A TUB. Tub. What is't, sir Hugh ? Hugh. W here is your governor Hilts ? Basket must do it. Tub. Basket shall be calPd. Hilts ! can you see to rise ? [Aloud. Hilts, [appears at the window.'] Cham not blind, sir, With too much light. Tub Open your t'other eye, And view if it be day. Hilts. Che can spy that At's little a hole as another, through a milstone. [Exit above. Tub He will have the last word, though he talk bilk for't. 3 Hugh Bilk ! what's that ? Tub. Why, nothing ; a word signifying Nothing ; and borrowed here to express nothing. Hugh. A fine device ! Tub. Yes, till we hear a finer. What's your device now, canon Hugh? Hugh. In private, Lend it your ear ; I will not trust the air with it, Or scarce my shirt ; my cassock shall not know it ; If I thought it did I'd burn it. Tub. That's the way, 3 Though he talk bilk] I have mislaid my examples of the use of this word, as explained b> squirt Tub. It seems to have become a cant term about this time, for the use of it is ridiculed by others as well as Jonson. It is thus explained in Coles' English Diet. u Bilk, nothing ; also, to deceive." In u Davenant Vindicated," a burlesque poem, the meaning is thus expressed : u Some say by Avenant no place is meant, And that our Lombard is without descent, And as, by bilk, men mean there's nothing there, So come from Avenant, means from no. where." A TALE OF A TUB. 137 You have thought to get a new one, Hugh: is't worth it ? Let's hear it first. Hugh. Then hearken, and receive it. [TVhispers him. This 'tis, sir. Do you relish it ? Enter Hilts, andzvalks by, making himself ready. Tub. If Hilts Be close enough to carry it ; there's all. Hilts. It is no sand, nor butter-milk : if it be, Ich'am no zive, or watering-pot, to draw Knots i' your 'casions. If you trust me, zo ! If not, praform it your zelves. Cham no man's wife, But resolute Hilts : you'll vind me in the buttry. [Exit. Tub. A testy, but a tender clown as wool, And melting as the weather in a thaw ! He'll weep you like all April ; but he'll roar you Like middle March afore: he will be as mellow, And tipsy too, as October; and as grave And bound up like a frost (with the new year) In January ; as rigid as he is rustic. Hugh, You know his nature, and describe it well ; I'll leave him to your fashioning. Tub. Stay, sir Hugh ; Take a good angel with you for your guide ; [Gives him a piece of' money. And let this guard you homeward, as the blessing To our device. [Exit* Hugh. 1 thank you, 'squire's worship, Most humbly for the next; for this I am sure of. O for a quire of these voices, now, To chime in a man's pocket, and cry chink ! One doth not chirp, it makes no harmony. 138 A TALE OF A TUB. Grave justice Bramble next must contribute ; His charity must offer at this wedding : I'll bid more to the bason and the bride-ale, Although but one can bear away the bride. I smile to think how like a lottery These weddings are. Clay hath her in possession, The 'squire he hopes to circumvent the Tile-kiln ; And now, if justice Bramble do come off, 4 '] is two to one but Tub may lose his bottom. SCENE II. Kentish Town. A Room in Turfe's House. Enter Clench, Medlay, D'oge Scriben, Ball Puppy, and Pan. Clench, Why, it is thirty year, e'en as this day now, Zin Valentine's day, of all days kursin'd, 5 look you; And the zame day o' the month as this zin Va- lentine, Or I am vowly deceived Med. That our high constable, Master Tobias Turfe, and his dame were married: I think you are right. But what was that zin Valentine r Did you ever know 'un, goodman Clench? Clench. Zin Valentine ! He was a deadly zin, and dwelt at Highgate, As I have heard; but 'twas avore my time: * If justice Bramble do come off.] i e. pay well. See Mas- sin^cr, vol. i. p. 210. 5 Oj all days kursin'd,] i. e. christen d. Whal. Thus Fletcher : ' Are they kursin , d? No, they call them infidels." The Coxcomb. A TALE OF A TUB. 139 He was a cooper too, as you are, Medlay, An In-and-in : a woundy brag young vellow, As the 'port wento' hun then, and in those days. Scri. Did he not write his name Sim Valentine? Vor I have met no Sin in Finsbury books ; And yet I have writ them six or seven times over. Pan. O you munlook for the nine deadly Sins, In the church-books, D'oge ; not [in] the high constable's; Nor in the county's: zure, that same zin Valentine, He was a stately zin, an' he were a zin, And kept brave house. Clench. At the Cock-and-Hen in Highgate. You have fi esh'd my memory well in't, neigh- bour Pan : He had a place in last king Harry's time, Of sorting all the young couples; joining them, And putting them together; which is yet Piaform'd, as on his day zin Valentine : As being the zin of the shire, or the whole county: I am old Rivet still, and bear a brain, The Clench, the varrier, and true leach of Hamstead. Pan. You are a shrewd antiquity, neighbour Clench, And a great guide to all the parishes ! The very bell-weather of the hundred, here, As I may zay. Master Tobias Turfe, High constable, would not miss you, for a score on us, When he do 'scourse of the great charty to us. Pup. What's that, a horse ? can 'scourse nought but a horse, 6 6 Whalley follows the old copy, which reads, Can 'scourse nought but a horse ; I ne'er read o' him, and that in Smithveld cbarty ; In the old Fabian,' 1 &c. The present arrangement re- 140 A TALE OF A TUB. And that in Smithveld. Charty ! I ne'er read o' hun, In the old Fahian's chronicles ; nor I think In any new : he may be a giant there, For aught I know. Scri. You should do well to study Records, fellow Ball, both law and poetry. Pup. Why, all's but writing and reading, is it Scriben? An it be any more, it is mere cheating zure, Vlat cheating; all your law and poets too. Pan. Master high constable comes. Enter Turfe. Pup. I'll zay't afore 'hun. Turfe. What's that makes you all so merry and loud, sirs, ha ? I could have heard you to my privy walk. Clench. A ccntrevarsie 'twixt two learned men here : Hannibal Puppy says that law and poetry Are both flat cheating; all's but writing and reading, He says, be't verse or prose. Turfe. 1 think in conzience, He do zay true : who is't do thwart 'un, ha? Med. Why, my friend Scriben, an it please your worship. Turfe. Who, D'oge, my D'ogenes? a great writer, marry ! He'll vace me down, [sirs.] me myself sometimes, That verse goes upon veet, as \ou and I do : But I can gi' un the hearing ; zit me down, And laugh at 'un ; and to myself conclude, stores the passage to sense, and is not far perhaps from that of the author. A TALE OF A TUB. 141 The greatest clerks are not the wisest men Ever. Here they are both ! what, sirs, disputing, And holding arguments of verse and prose, And no green thing afore the door, that shews, Or speaks a wedding ! Scri. Those were verses now, Your worship spake, and run upon vive veet. Turfe. Feet, vrom my mouth, D'oge ! leave your 'zurd upinions, And get me in some boughs. Scri, Let them have leaves first. There's nothing green but bays and rosemary. Pup. And they are too good for st re wings, your maids say. Turfe. You take up 'dority still to vouch against me. All the twelve smocks in the house, zure, are your authors. Get some fresh hay then, to lay under foot ; Some holly and ivy to make vine the posts : Is't not zon Valentine's day, and mistress Awdrey, Your young dame, to be married ? [Exit Pappy.'] I wonder Clay Should be so tedious; he's to play son Valentine : And the clown sluggard is not come fro'Kilbom yet! Med. Do you call your son in law clown, an't please your worship ? Turfe. Yes and vor worship too, my neighbour Medlay, A Middlesex clown, and one of Finsbury. They were the first colons of the kingdom here, The primitory colons, my Diogenes says, Where's D'ogenes, my writer, now ? What were those You told me, D'ogenes, were the first colons Of the country, that the Romans brought in here? 142 A TALE OF A TUB. Scri. The coloni, sir; colonus is an inhabitant, A clown original : as you'd say, a farmer, A tiller of the earth, e'er since the Romans Planted their colony first ; which was in Mid- dlesex. Turfe. Why so ! I thank you heartily, good Diogenes, You ha' zertified me. I had rather be An ancient colon, (as they say,) a clown of Mid- dlesex, A good rich farmer, or high constable. I'd play hun 'gain a knight, or a good 'squire, Or gentleman of any other county In the kingdom. Pan. Outcept Kent, for there they landed All gentlemen, and came in with the conqueror, Mad Julius Caesar, who built Dover-castle : My ancestor To-Pan, beat the first kettle-drum Avore 'hun, here vrom Dover on the march. Which piece of monumental copper hangs Up, scour'd, at Hammersmith yet; for there they came Over the Thames, at a low water-mark ; Vore either London, ay, or Kingston-bridge, I doubt, were kursin'd. Re-enter Puppy with John Clay. Turfe. Zee, who is here : John Clay ! Zon Valentine, and bridegroom ! have you zeen Your Valentine-bride yet, sin'jou came, John Clay r Clay. No, wusse. Che lighted I but now in the yard, Puppy has scarce unswaddled my legs yet. Tuije. W hat, wisps on your wedding-day, zon ! this is right A TALE OF A TUB. 143 Originous Clay, ami Clay o' Kilbora too ! I would ha had hoots on this day, zure, zon John. Clay. I did it to save charges : we mini dance, On this day, zure; and who can dance in boots? No, I got on my best straw-colour'd stockings, And swaddled them over to zave charges, I. Turje. And his new chamois doublet too with points ! I like that yet : and his long sausage-hose, Like the commander of foursmoaking tile-kilns, Which he is captain of, captain of Ki'born; Clay with his hat turn'd up o' the leer side too// As if he would leap my daughter yet ere night, And spring a newTurfe to the old house! Enter Jo ice, Joan, and the other Maids, with ri- bands, rosemary, and bay for the bride-men. Look ! an the wenches ha' not found 'un out, And do parzent 'un with a van of rosemary, And bays, to vill a bow-pot, trim the head Of my best vore-horse! we shall all ha' bride-laces, Or points, I zee ; my daughter will be valiant, And prove a very Mary Ambry in the business. 8 Clench. They zaid your worship had 'sured her to 'squire Tub Of Totten-Court here; all the hundred rings on't. Turje. A Tale op a Tub, sir, a mere Tale of a Tub. Lend it no ear, I pray you: the 'squire Tub Is a fine man, but he is too fine a man, And has a lady Tub too to his mother; I'll deal with none of these fine silken Tubs : 7 With his hat turrid up, o' the leer side.] i. e. the left, or leeward side. * A very Mary Ambry."] See vol. iii. p. 433. 144 A TALE OP A TUB. John Clay and cloth-breech for my money and daughter.' Here comes another old boy too vor his colours, Enter Rosix, and his two Boys. Willstroak down my wives udder of purses, empty Of all her milk- money this winter quarter : Old r&lher Rosin, the chief minstrel here, Chief minstrel too of Highgate, she has hired him And all his two boys for a day and a half; And now they come for ribandingand rosemary: Give them enough, girls, give them enough, and take it Out in his tunes anon. Clench. 'I'll have Tom Tiler, For our John Clay's sake, and the tile-kilns, zure. Med. And 1 the Jolly Joiner for mine own sake. Pan. I'll have the Jovial Tinker for To-Pan's sake. Turfe. We'll all be jovy this day vor son Va- lentine, My sweet son John's sake. Scri. There's another reading now : Mv master reads it Son and not Sin Valentine. Pup Nor Zim : and he's in the right ; he is high-constable, And who should read above 'u'n, or avore 'hun ? Turje. Son John shall bid us welcome all, this day; We'll zerve under his colours : lead the troop, John, ' John Clay and cloth -breech for my money.] The allusion is to the Quip for an Upstart Courtier, a humourous tract by Greene. The contending parties in the Dialogue are Velvet-breeches and Cloth -breeches, the representatives of the court and country. The superiority throughout is adroitly given to the latter. A TALE OF A TUB. 145 And Puppy, see the bells ring. Press all noises * Of Finsbury, in our name : Diogenes Scriben Shall draw a score of warrants vor the business. Does any wight perzent hir majesty's person, This hundred, 'bove the high constable ? All. No, no. Turfe. Use our authority then to the utmost on't. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Maribone. A Room injustice Preamble's House. Enter canon Hugh and justice Preamble. Hugh. So you are sure, sir, to prevent them all, And throw a block in the bridegroom's way, John Clay, That he will hardly leap o'er. Pre. I conceive you, Sir Hugh ; as if your rhetoric would say, Whereas the father of her is a Turfe, A very superficies of the earth ; He aims no higher than to match in clay, And there hath pitch'd his rest. Hugh. Right, justice Bramble ; You have the winding wit, compassing all. Pre. Subtle sir Hugh, you now are in the wrong, And err with the whole neighbourhood, I must tell you, For you mistake my name. Justice Preamble I write myself; which, with the ignorant clowns here, Because of my profession of the law, And place of the peace, is taken to be Bramble : Press all noises.] See vol. iii. p. 402. VOL. VI. L 14(5 A TALE OF A TUB. But all my warrants, sir, do run Preamble, Richard Preamble. Hugh. Sir, I thank you for it, That your good worship would not let me run Longer in error, but would take me up thus. Pre. You are my learned and canonic neigh- bour, I would not have you stray ; but the incorrigible Nott headed beast, the clowns, or constables, Still let them graze, eat sallads, chew the cud : All the town music will not move a log. Hugh. The beetle and wedges will where you will have them. Pre. True, true, sir Hugh. Enter Metaphor. Here comes Miles Metaphor, My clerk ; he is the man shall carry it, canon, By my instructions. Hugh. He will do it ad unguem, Miles Metaphor ! he is a pretty fellow. Pre. I love not to keep shadows, or half-wits, To foil a business. Metaphor, you have seen A king ride forth in state.' Met. Sir, that I have : King Edward our late liege, and sovereign lord ; And have set down the pomp. Pre Therefore I ask'd you. Have you observ'd the messengers of thechamber, What habits they were in ? Met. Yes, minor coats, Metaphor, you have seen A king ride forth in state.] Our old chronicles and historians are very large in their descriptions of such pageants : Holinshed and Stow gi e us many instances of the sovereign's riding in great state through the city, attended by his guards and nobles. Whal. A TALE OF A TUB. 147 Unto the guard, a dragon and a greyhound, 2 For the supporters of the arms. Pre. Well mark'd ! You know not any of them ? Met. Here's one dwells In Maribone. Pre. Have you acquaintance with him, To borrow his coat an hour ? Hugh. Or but his badge, 'Twill serve ; a little thing he wears on his breast. Pre. His coat, I say, is of more authority : Borrow his coat for an hour. I do love To do all things completely, canon Hugh ; Borrow his coat, Miles Metaphor, or nothing. Met. The taberd of his office I will call it, Or the coat-armour of his place; and so Insinuate with him by that trope. Pre. I know Your powers of rhetoric, Metaphor. Fetch him off In a fine figure for his coat, I say. [Exit Metaphor. Hugh. I'll take my leave, sir, of your worship too, Because I may expect the issue anon. Pre. Stay, my diviner counsel, take your fee : We that take fees, allow them to our counsel ; And our prime learned counsel, double fees. There are a brace of angels to support you In your foot- walk this frost, for fear of falling, Or spraying of a point of matrimony, When you come at it Hugh. In your worship's service : * a dragon and a grey-hound, &c] " Henry VII| a prince of the house of Tudor, in memory of their descent from Cadwallader, gave from his first accession, the red or rouge dragon, (when he also constituted Rouge Dragon pursuivant,) for the dexter supporter of his arms, with the grey-hound of the home of York on the left." L2 148 A TALE OF A TUB. That the exploit is done, and you possest Of mistress Awdrey Turfe. Pre. I like your project. [Exit. Hugh. And I, of this effect of two to one ; It worketh in my pocket, 'gainst the 'squire, And his half bottom here, of half a piece, Which was not worth the stepping o'er the stile for : His mother has quite marr'd him, lady Tub, She's such a vessel of fseces : all dried earth, Terra damnata ! not a drop of salt, Or petre in her ! J all her nitre is gone. [Exit. SCENE IV. Totten Court. Before lady Tub's House. Enter lady Tub, and Pol Martin. Lady T. Is the nag ready, Martin ? call the 'squire. This frosty morning we will take the air, About the fields ; for I do mean to be Somebody's Valentine, in my velvet gown, This morning, though it be but a beggar-man. Why stand you still, and do not call my son ? Pol. Madam, if he had couched with the lamb, He had no doubt been stirring with the lark : But he sat up at play, and watch 'd the cock, Till his first warning chid him off to rest. Not a drop of salt, Or petre in her /] The quibble, such as it is, may possibly escape the reader ; the poet means she had nothing of her hus- band's temper, who was sir Peter Tub. Whal. A TALE OF A TUB. 149 Late watchers are no early wakers, madam : But if your ladyship will have him call'd Lady T. Will have him call'd! wherefore did T, sir, bid him Be call d, you weazel, vermin of an huisher? You will return your wit to your first stile Of Martin Polecat, by these stinking tricks, If you do use them : I shall no more call you Pol Martin, by the title of a gentleman, >f you go on thus. Pol. I am gone. [Exit. Lady T. Be quick then, In your come off; and make amends, you stote ! Was ever such a fulmart for an huisher, To a great worshipful lady, as myself! Who, when I heard his name first, Martin Polecat, A stinking name, and not to be pronounced In any lady's presence without a reverence ;* My very heart e'en yearn'd, seeing the fellow Young, pretty, and handsome ; being then, I say, A basket-carrier, and a man condemn'd To the salt-petre works ; made it my suit To master Peter Tub, that I might change it; And call him as I do now, by Pol Martin, To have it sound like a gentleman in an office. And made him mine own foreman, daily waiter. And he to serve me thus ! ingratitude, Beyond the coarseness yet of any clownage, Shewn to a lady ! Re-enter Pol Martin. What now, is he stirring ? Pol. Stirring betimes out of his bed, and ready. Lady T. And comes he then ? . , without a reverence.] An allusion to the good old custom of apologizing for the introduction of a free expression, by bowing to the principal person iu company, and saying, Sir, with reverence, or, Sir, revertnee. There is much filthy stuff on this 150 A TALE OF A TUB. Pol. No, madam, he is gone. Lady T. Gone! whither? Ask the porter where is he gone. Pol. I met the porter, and have ask'd him for him ; He says, he let him forth an hour ago. Lady T. An hour ago ! what business could he have So early ; Where is his man, grave Basket-hilts, His guide and governor? Pol. Gone with his master. Lady T. Is he gone too ! O that same surly knave Is his right-hand ; and leads my son amiss. He has carried him to some drinking match or other. Pol Martin, I will call you so again, I am friends with you now go, get your horse and ride To all the towns about here, where his haunts are, And cross the fields to meet, and bring me word ; He cannot be gone far, being a-foot. Be curious to inquire him : and bid Wispe, My woman, come, and wait on me. [Exit Pol.~\ The love We mothers bear our sons we have bought with pain, Makes us oft view them with too careful eyes, And overlook them with a jealous fear, Out-fitting mothers. Enter Dido Wispe. Lady T. How now, Wispe ! have you A Valentine yet? I am taking the air to choose one. Wispe. Fate send your ladyship a fit one then. simple interjection (of which neither Stecvcns nor Malone ap- pears to have known the import) in the notes to Romeo and Juliet. A TALE OF A TUB. 151 Lady T. What kind of one is that ? Wispt. A proper man To please your ladyship. Lady T. Out of that vanity That takes the foolish eye ! any poor creature, Whose want may need my alms or courtesy, I rather wish; so bishop Valentine Left us example to do deeds of charity ; To feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit The weak and sick ; to entertain the poor, And give the dead a christian funeral: These were the works of piety he did practise, And bade us imitate; not look for lovers, Or handsome images to please our senses. I pray thee, Wispe, deal freely with me now, We are alone, and may be merry a little : Thou art none of the court glories, nor the wonders For wit or beauty in the city ; tell me, What man would satisfy thy present fancy, Had thy ambition leave to choose a Valentine, Within the queen's dominion, so a subject? JVispe. You have given me a large scope, madam, I confess, And I will deal with your ladyship sincerely ; I'll utter my whole heart to you. I would have him The bravest, richest, and the properest man A tailor could make up ; or all the poets, With the perfumers : I would have him such, As not another woman but should spite me; Three city ladies should run mad for him, And country madams infinite. Lady T. You would spare me, And let me hold my wits ? Wispe, I should with you, For the young 'squire, my master's sake, dispense A little, but it should be very little. 152 A TALE OF A TUB. Then all the court-wives I'd have jealous of me, As all their husbands jealous too of them ;* And not a lawyer's puss of any quality, But lick her lips for a snatch in the term-time. Lady T. Come, Let's walk ; we'll hear the rest as we go on : You are this morning in a good vein, Dido; Would I could be as merry ! My son's absence Troubles me not a little, though I seek These ways to put it off; which will not help : Care that is entered once into the breast, Will have the whole possession ere it rest. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Thejields near Pancras. Enter, in procession, with ribands, rosemary and bay,TvRFE, Clay, Medlay, Clench, To-Pan, Scriben, and Puppy with the bride-cake, as going to church. Turfe. Zon Clay, cheer up, the better leg avore, This is a veat is once done, and no more. Clench. And then 'tis done vor ever, as they say. Med. Right ! vor a man has his hour, and a dog his day. Turfe. True, neighbour Medlay, you are still In-and-in. Med. I would be, master constable, if che could win. * As alt their husbands jealous of them.] I have inserted too, -which helps out the measure, and makes the sentiment rather clearer than before. Whal. A TALE OF A TUB. 153 Pan. I zay, John Clay keep still on his old gate : Wedding and hanging both go at a rate, Turfe* Well said, To-Pan ; you have still the hap to hit The nail o' the head at a close : I think there never Marriage was managed with a more avisement, Than was this marriage, though I say it that should not ; Especially 'gain mine own flesh and blood, My wedded wife. Indeed my wife would ha' had All the young batchelors, and maids forsooth, Of the zix parishes hereabouts ; but I Cried none, sweet Sybil ; none of that gear, I : It would lick zalt, I told her, by her leave. No, three or vour our wise, choice, honest neighbours, Ubstantial persons, men that have born office, And mine own family would be enough To eat our dinner. What ! dear meat's a thief; I know it by the butchers and the market-volk. Hum drum, I cry. No half ox in a pye : A man that's bid to a bride-ale, if he have cake And drink enough, he need not vear his stake. Clench. 'Tis right ; he has spoke as true as a gun, believe it. Enter dameTu rte and Awdrey, followed by J oan, Joyce, Madge, Parnel, Glusel, and Kate, dressed for the wedding, Turfe. Come, Sybil, come ; did not I tell you o' this, This pride and muster of women would mar all? Six women to one daughter, and a mother ! The queeu (God save her) ha' no more herself. 154 A TALE OF A TUB. Dame T. Why, if you keep so many, master Turfe, Why should not all present our service to her? Turfe Your service ! good ! I think you'll write to her shortly, Your very loving and obedient mother* Come, send your maids off, I will have them sent Home again, wife ; I love no trains of Kent,' Or Christendom, as they say. Joyce. We will not back, And leave our dame. Madge. Why should her worship lack Her tail of maids, more than you do of men? Turfe. What, mutining, Madge? Joan. Zend back your clowns agen, And we will vollow. All. Else we'll guard our dame, Turfe. I ha' zet the nest of wasps all on a flame. Dame T. Come, you are such another, master Turfe, A clod you should be cali'd, of a high constable : To let no music go afore your child To church, to chear her heart up this cold morning ! Turfe. You are for father Rosin and his consort Of fiddling boys, the great Feates and the less ; Because you have entertain'd them all from Highgate. To shew your pomp, you'd have your daughters and maids Dance o'er the fields like faies to church, this frost. I'll have no rondels, I, in the queen's paths ; 3 I love no trains of Kent, &c] i. e. long ones, alluding t the old proTerb, M Kentish long-tails." A TALE OF A TUB. 155 Let 'em scrape the gut at home, where they have fill'd it, At afternoon. Dame T. I'll have them play at dinner. Clench. She is in the right, sir; vor your wed- ding-dinner Is starv'd without the music. Med. If the pies Come not in piping hot, you have lost that pro- verb. Turfe. I yield to truth : wife, are you sussified ? Pan. A right good man ! when he knows right, he loves it. Scri. And he will know't and shew't too by his place Of being high constable, if no where else. Enter Hilts, with a false beard, booted and spurred. Hilts. Well overtaken, gentlemen ! I pray you Which is the queen's high constable among you? Pup. The tallest man ; who should be else, do you think ? Hilts. It is no matter what I think, young clown ; Your answer savours of the cart. Pup. How ! cart And clown! do you know whose team you speak to ? Hilts. No, nor I care not : Whose jade may you be ? Pup. Jade I cart ! and clown ! O for a lash of whip-cord, Three knotted cord ! Hilts. Do you mutter ! sir, snorle this way, That I may hear, and answer what you say, With my school-dagger 'bout your costard, sir. Look to't, young growse: I'll lay it on, and sure; Take't off who wull. [Draws his sword. 156 A TALE OF A TUB. Clench. Nay, 'p ra y vou > gentleman- Hi//*. Go to, I will not bate him an ace on't. What rowly-powly, maple face ! all fellows ! Pup. Do you hear, friend ? I would wish you, for your good, Tie up your brended bitch there, your dun, rusty, Pannier-hilt poniard ; and not vex the youth With shewing the teeth of it. We now are going To church in way of matrimony, some on us; They ha" rung all in a' ready. If it had not, All the horn-beasts are grazing in this close Should not have pull'd me hence, till tins ash- plant Had rung noon on yourpate, 4 masterBroombeard. Hilts. That I would fain zee, quoth the blind George Of Holloway : come, sir. Awd O their naked weapons ! Pan. For the passion of man, hold gentleman and Puppy. Clay. Murder, O murder ! Awd. O my father and mother ! Dame T. Husband, what do you mean ? son Clay, for God's sake Turfe. I charge you in the queen's name, keep the peace. till this ash plant Had rung noon on your pate,] This if a proverbial allusion to the custom of striking the dresser as a signal for dinner, which -was then served up at noon. The notices of this practice are innumerable. Maple face, just above, is a term of contempt, of which the precise import is not known. Mr. Malone thinks it alludes to the rough bark of the maple. It may be so : though I suspect that it rather refers to colour, and means tann'd, or sun- burnt. In some passages which I hare noted, it appears to be synonymous with broad-face: for this I cannot account ; unless it refers to the mazer or broad dish of our forefathers, which was usually formed of this wood. A TALE OF A TUB. IS7 Hilts. Tell me o' no queen or keysar ; I must have A leg or a hanch of him ere I go. Med. But, zir, You must obey the queen's high officers. Hilts. Why must I, goodman Must ? Med. You must an' you wull. Turfe. Gentleman, 1 am here for fault, high constable Hilts. Are you zo ! what then ? Turfe. I pray you, sir, put up Your weapons; do, at my request: for him, On my authority, he shall lie by the heels, Verbatim continente, an I live. Dame T. Out on him for a knave, what a dead fright He has put me into ! come, Awdrey, do not shake. Awd. But is not Puppy hurt, nor the t'other man ? Clay. No bun ; but had not I cried murder, I wuss Pup. Sweet goodman Clench, I pray you revise my master, I maynotzitin the stocks till the wedding be past, Dame, mistress Awdrey : I shall break the bride- cake else. Clench. Zomething must be to save authority, Puppy. Dame T. Husband Clench. And gossip Awd. Father- Turfe. 'Treat me not, It is in vain. If he lie not by the heels, I'll lie there for 'un ; I will teach the hind To carry a tongue in his head to his superiors. Hilts. This's a wise constable ! where keeps he school ?* 158 A TALE OF A TUB. Clench. In Kentish-town; a very survere man. Hilts. But as survere as he is, let me, sir, tell him, He shall not lay his man by the heels for this. This was my quarrel ; and by his office' leave, If it carry 'un for this, it shall carry double ; Vor he shall carry me too. Twrfe. Breath of man I He is my chattel, mine own hired goods: An if you do abet 'un in this matter, I'll clap you both by the heels, ankle to ankle. Hilts. You'll clap a dog of wax as soon, old Blurt. 6 Come, spare not me, sir, I am no man's wife ; I care not T, sir, not three skips of a louse for you, An you were ten tall constables, not I. Turfe. Nay, pray you, sir, be not angry, but content ; My man shall make you what amends you'll ask 'un. Hilts. Let 'un mend his manners then, and know his betters ; It's all I ask 'un : and 'twill be his own, And's master's too another day; che vore 'un. Med. As right as a club still ! Zure this angry man Speaks very near the mark when he is pleased. Pup. I thank you, sir, an' I meet you at Kentish town, I ha' the courtesy o' the hundred for you. Hilts. Gramercy, good high constable's hind ! But hear you ? Mass constable, I have other manner of matter To bring you about than this. And so it is, I do belong to one of the queen's captains, * Old Blurt.~\ Jonson alludes to the title of an old comedy, by his triend 7 Middleton " Blurt, master Constable.' 1 1602. A TALE OF A TUB. 159 A gentleman o' the field, one captain Thums, I know not whether you know 'un, orno : it may be You do, and it may be you do not again. Turfe No, I assure you on my constableship, I do not know 'un. Hilts. Nor I neither, i' faith. [Aside. It skills ' not much ; my captain and myself Having occasion to come riding by here This morning, at the corner of St. John's wood, Some mile [west] o' this town, were set upon By a sort of country-fellows, that not only Beat us, but robb'd us most sufficiently, And bound us to our behaviour hand and foot ; And so they left us. Now, don constable, I am to charge you in her majesty's name, As you will answer it at your apperil, * That forthwith you raise hue and cry in the hundred, For all such persons as you can despect, By the length and breadth of your office : for I tell you, The loss is of some value ; therefore look to't. Turfe. As fortune mend me now, or any office Of a thousand pound, if I know what to zay. Would I were dead, or vaire hang'd up at Tyburn, If I do know what course to take, or how To turn myself just at this time too, now My daughter is to be married ! I'll but go To Pancridge-church hard by, and return in- stantly, And all my neighbourhood shall go about it. Hilts. Tut, Panci idge me no Pancridge ! if you let it * It skills not] i. e. it matters not, it is of no consequence, &c. So in the Poetaster : " Give him what thou hast, though it lack a shilling or two of the sum, it skills not? * As you will answer it at your apperil.] Again ! See yoI. v. p. 137. 160 A TALE OF A TUB. Slip, you will answer it, an your cap be of wool ; Therefore take heed, you'll feel the smart else, constable. [Going. Turfe. Nay, good sir, stay. Neighbours, what think you of this ? Dame T. Faith, man Turfe. Odds precious, woman, holdyourtongue, And mind your pigs on the spit at home; you must Have [an] oar in every thing. Pray you, sir, what kind Of fellows were they ? Hilts. Thieves-kind, I have told you. Turfe. I mean, what kind of men ? Hilts. Men of our make. Turfe. Nay, but with patience, sir : We that are officers Must 'quire the special marks, and all the tokens Of the despected parties; or perhaps else Be ne'er the near of our purpose in 'prehending them. Can you tell what 'parrel any of them wore ? Hilts. Troth, no ; there were so many o' 'em all like So one another : now I remember me, There was one busy fellow was their leader, A blunt squat swad, but lower than yourself; He had on a leather-doublet with long points, And a pair of pinn'd-up breeches, like pudding- bags ; With yellow stockings, and his hat turn'd up With a silver clasp on his leer side. Dame T. By these Marks it should be John Clay, now bless the man ! Turfe. Peace, and be nought ! 7 I think the woman be phrensic. 1 Peace, and be novg/it '.] i. e. peace and be hanged ! another example of the phra&e explained, ol. iv. 421. A TALE OF A TUB. 161 Hilts. John Clay ! what's he, good mistress? Awd. He that shall be My husband. Hilts. How ! your husband, pretty one ? Awd. Yes, I shall anon be married ; that is he. Turfe Passion o' me, undone ! Pup. Bless master's son ! Hilts. O, you are well 'prehended : know you me, sir? Clay. No's my record ; I never zaw you avore. Hilts. You did not ! where were your eyes then, out at washing ? Turfe. What should a man zay, who should he trust In these days ? Hark you, John Clay, if you have Done any such thing, tell troth and shame the devil. Clench. Vaith, do ; my gossip Turfe zays well to you, John. Med. Speak, man ; but do not convess, nor be a v raid. Pan. A man is a man, and a beast's a beast, look to't. Dame T. In the name of men or beasts, what do you do ? Hare the poor fellow out on his five wits, And seven senses ! do not weep, John Clay. I swear the poor wretch is as guilty from it As the child was, was born this very morning. Clay. No, as I am a kyrsin soul, would I were hang'd If ever I alas, I would I were out Of my life; so I would I were, and in again Pup. Nay, mistress Awdrey will say nay to that; No, in-and-out : an you were out of your life, How should she do for a husband? who should fall Aboard of her then ? Ball ? he's a puppy' VOL. VI. M 162 A TALE OF A TUB. No, Hannibal has no breeding ! well, I say little ; But hitherto all goes well, pray it prove no better. [Aside, Awd. Come, father; I would we were married ! I am a-cold. Hills. Well, master constable, this your fine groom here, Bridegroom, or what groom else soe'er he be, I charge him with the felony ; and charge you To carry him back forthwith to Paddington Unto my captain, who stays my return there : I am to go to the next justice of peace, To get a warrant to raise hue and cry, And bring him and his fellows all afore 'un. Fare you well, sir, and look to 'un, I charge you As you will answer it. Take heed ; the business If you defer, may prejudicial you More than you think for; zay I told you so. fifcttV. Turfe. Here's a bride-ale indeed ! ahzonJohn, zon Clay ! I little thought you would have proved a piece Of such false metal. Clay. Father, will you believe me? Would I might never stir in my new shoes, It ever I would do so voul a fact. Turfe. Well, neighbours, I do charge you to assist me With 'un to Paddington. Be he a true man, so! The better for 'un. I will do mine office, An he were my own begotten a thousand times. Dame T. Why, do you hear, man ? husband, master Turfe ? What shall my daughter do ? Puppy, stay here. [Exeunt all but Awdrey and Puppy. Awd. Mother, Til go with you, and with my father. A TALE OF A TUB. 163 Pup. Nay, stay, sweet mistress Awdrey : here are none But one friend, as they zay, desires to speak A word or two, cold with you : how do you veel Yourself this frosty morning ? Awd. What have you To do to ask, I pray you ? I am a- cold. Pup. It seems you are hot, good mistress Awdrey. Awd. You lie ; I am as cold as ice is, feel else. Pup. Nay, you have cool'd my courage ; I am past it, I ha' done feeling with you. Awd. Done with me ! I do defy you, so I do, to say You ha' done with me : you are a sawcy Puppy. 8 Pup. O you mistake! I meant not as you mean* Awd. Meant you not knavery, Puppy ? Pup. No, not I. Clay meant }-ou all the knavery, it seems, Who rather than he would be married to you, Chose to be wedded to the gallows first. Awd. I thought he was a dissembler ; he would prove A slippery merchant in the frost. He might Have married one first, and have been hang'd after, If he had had a mind to't. But you men Fie on you ! Pup. Mistress Awdrey, can you vind In your heart to fancy Puppy ? me poor Ball ? Awd. You are disposed to jeer one, master Hannibal. 1 Awdrey's indignation arises from the equivocal use of the word done. Her affcctatiou of delicacy amidst her real grossness is well marked. 164 A TALE OF A TUB. Re enter Hilts. Pitv o' me, the angry man with the beard ! Hilts. Put on thy hat, I look for no despect. Where is thy master ? Pup. Marry, he is gone With the picture of despair to Paddington. Hilts. Prithee run after 'un, and tell 'un he shall Find out my captain lodged at the Red-Lion In Paddington ; that's the inn. Let 'un ask Vor captain Thums ; and take that for thy pains : He may seek long enough else. Hie thee again. Pup. Yes, sir; you'll look to mistress bride the while ? Hilts. That I will: prithee haste. [Exit Puppy. Awd. What, Puppy ! Puppy ! Hilts. Sweet mistress bride, he'll come again presently.- Here was no subtle device to get a wench ! This Canon has a brave pate of his own, A shaven pate, and a right monger, y' vaith ; This was his plot. I follow captain Thums ! We robb'd in St. John's wood ! In my t'other hose ! I laugh to think what a fine fool's finger they have O' this wise constable, in pricking out This captain Thums to his neighbours : you shall see The tile-man too set fire on his own kiln, And leap into it to save himself from hanging. You talk of a bride-ale, here was a bride-ale broke In the nick ! Well, I must yet dispatch this bride To mine own master, the young 'squire, and then My task is done. [Aside.] Gentlewoman, I have in sort A TALE OF A TUB. 165 Done you some wrong, but now I'll do you what right I can : it's true, you are a proper woman ; But to be cast away on such a clown-pipe As Clay! methinks your friends are not so wise As nature might have made 'em ; well, go to : There's better fortune coming towards you, An you do not deject it. Take a vooPs Counsel, and do not stand in your own light ; It may prove better than you think tor, look you. Awd. Alas, sir, what is't you would have me do ? I'd fain do all for the best, if 1 knew how. Hilts, Forsake not a good turn when it is of- fer'd you, Fair mistress Awdrey that's your name, I take it. Awd. No mistress, sir, my name is Awdrey. Hilts. Well ; so it is, there is a bold young 'squire, The blood of Totten, Tub, and Tripoly Awd. 'Squire Tub, you mean : I know him, he knows me too. Hilts. He is in love with you ; and more, he's mad for you. Awd. Ay, so he told me in his wits, I think. But he's too fine for me ; and has a lady Tub to his mother Enter Tub. Here he comes himself! Tub. O you are a trusty governor ! Hilts. What ails you ? You do not know when you are well, I think. You'd ha' the calf with the white face, sir, would you ? I have her for you here ; what would you more? Tub. Quietness, Hilts, and hear no more of it. 166 A TALE OF A TUB. Hilts. No more of it, quoth you ! I do not care If some on us had not heard so much of it. I tell you true ; a man must carry and vetch Like Bungy's dog for you.* Tub. What's he ? Hilts. A spaniel And scarce be spit in the mouth for't. A good dog Deserves, sir, a good bone, of a free master ; But, an your turns be serv'd, the devil a bit You care for a man after, e'er a laird of you. Like will to like, y-faith, quoth the scabb'd '.squire To the mangy knight, when both met in a dish Of butter'd vish. One bad, there's ne'er a good ; And not a barrel the better herring among you. Tub. Nay, Hilts, I pray thee grow not fram- pull now. Turn not the bad cow after thy good soap.* Our plot hath hitherto ta'en good effect, And should it now be troubled or stopp'd up, Twould prove the utter ruin of my hopes. J pray thee haste to Pancridge, to the Canon, And give him notice of our good success. Will him that all things be in readiness : Fair Awdrey and myself will cross the fields The nearest path. Good Hilts, make thou some haste, And meet us on the way. Come, gentle Awdrey. Hilts. Vaith, would I had a few more geances on' 1 1 9 Like Bungy's dog.~\ A familiar that followed him, and of whose diabolical agency various facts are recorded in the old story-book of u Friar Bacon." Turn not the bad cow after thy good soap. ~\ This is evidently a proverbial expression ; 1 am not quite sure that I understand it ; unless it refers to the custom in some countries of using cow-dung as a succedaneum for soap. * Would 1 had a few more geances on't."] i. e. Jaunts i or errands. Whal. A TALE OF A TUB. 167 An you say the word, send me to Jericho. Outcept a man were a post-horse, I have not known The like on it ; yet, an he had [had] kind words, Twould never irke 'un : but a man may break His heart out in these days, and get a flap With a fox-tail, when he has done and there is all! Tub. Nay, say not so, Hilts : hold thee, there are crowns My love bestows on thee for thy reward ; If gold will please thee, all my land shall drop In bounty thus, to recompense thy merit. Hilts. Tut, keep your land, and your gold too, sir, I Seek neither neither of 'un. Learn to g;et More; you wdl know to spend that zum you have Early enough ; you are assured of me : I love you too too well to live o' the spoil For your own sake, would there were no worse than I ! All is not gold that glisters. I'll to Pancridge. \_Evit crying. Tub. See how his love does melt him into tears ! An honest faithful servant is a jewel. Now the ad vent'rous 'squire hath time and leisure To ask his Awdrey how she does, and hear A grateful answer from her. She not speaks. Hath the proud tyrant Frost usurp'd the seat Of former beauty, in my love's fair cheek ; Staining the roseate tincture of her blood With the dull dye of blue congealing cold ? No, sure the weather dares not so presume To hurt an object of her brightness. Yet, The more I view her, she but looks so, so. Ha ! give me leave to search this mystery O now I have it : Bride, I know your grief; 168 A TALE OF A TUB. The last night's cold hath bred iu you such horror Of the assigned bridegroom's constitution, The Kilborn clay-pit ; that frost-bitten marl, That lump in courage, melting cake of ice; That the conceit thereof hath almost kilTd thee : But I must do thee good, wench, and refresh thee; Awd. You are a merry man, 'squire Tub of Totten ! I have heard much o' your words, but not o' your deeds. Tub. Thou sayst true, sweet ; I have been too slack in deeds. Awd. Yet I was never so strait-laced to you, 'squire. Tub. Why, did you ever love me, gentle Avvdrey ? Awd Love you ! I cannot tell : I must hate no body, My father says. Tub. Yes, Clay and Kilborn, Awdrey, You must hate them. . Awd. It shall be for your sake then. Tub. And for my sake shall yield you that gratuity. [Offers to kiss her. Awd. Soft and fair, 'squire, there go two words to a bargain. [Puts him back. Tub. What are those, Awdrey r Awd. Nay, I cannot tell. My mother said, zure, if you married me, You'd make me a lady the first week ; and put me In I know not what, the very day. Tub. What was it? Speak, gentle Awdrey, thou shalt have it yet. Awd. A velvet dressing for my head, it is, They say, will make one brave ; I will not know Bess Moale, nor Margery Turn-up : I will look Another way upon them, and be proud. A TALE OF A TUB. 16*9 Tub. Troth, I could wish my wench a better wit ; But what she wanteth there, her face supplies. There is a pointed lustre in her eye Hath shot quite through me, and hath hit my heart : And thence it is I first received the wound, That rankles now, which only she can cure. Fain would I work myself from this conceit; But, being flesh, I cannot. I must love her, The naked truth is ; and I will go on, Were it for nothing but to cross my rivals. [Aside. Come, Awdrey, I am now resolv'd to have thee. Enter justice Preamble, and Metaphor disguised as a pursuivant. Pre. Nay, do it quickly, Miles; why shak'st thou, man ? Speak but his name, I'll second thee myself. Met. What is his name ? Pre. 'Squire Tripoly, or Tub ; Any thing Met. 'Squire Tub, I do arrest you In the queen's majesty's name, and all the coun- cil's. Tub. Arrest me, varlet ! Pre. Keep the peace, I charge you. Tub? Are you there, justice Bramble ! where's your warrant ? Pre. The warrant is directed here to me, From the whole table; wherefore I would pray Be patient, 'squire, and make good the peace. Tub. Well, at your pleasure, justice. I am wrong'd : Sirrah, what are you have arrested me? 170 A TALE OF A TUB. Pre. He is a pursuivant at arms, 'squire Tub. Met. I am a pursuivant; see by my coat else. Tub. Well, pursuivant, go with me : I'll give you bail. Pre. Sir, he may take no bail : it is a warrant, In special from the council, and commands Your personal appearance. Sir, your weapon I must require; and then deliver you A prisoner to this officer, 'squire Tub. I pray you to conceive of me no other, Than as your friend and neighbour: let my person Be sever'd from my office in the fact, And I am clear. Here, pursuivant, receive him Into your hands, and use him like a gentleman. Tub. I thank you, sir: but whither must I go now ? Pre. Nay, that must not be told you till you come Unto the place assign'd by his instructions : I'll be the maiden's convoy to her father, For this time, 'squire. Tub. I thank you, master Bramble. I doubt or fear you will make her the balance To weigh your justice in. Pray ye do me right, And lead not her, at least, out of the way: Justice is blind, and having a blind guide, She may be apt to slip aside. Pre. I'll see to her. [Exit Pre. with Awd. Tub 1 see my wooing will not thrive. Arrested, As I had set my rest up for a wife ! And being so fair for it as I was ! Well, fortune, Thou art a blind bawd and a beggar too, To cross me thus ; and let my only rival To get her from me ! that's the spight of spights. But most I muse at, is, that I, being none O' the court, am sent for thither by the council : My heart is not so light as it was in the morning. A TALE OF A TUB. 171 Re-enter Hilts. Hilts. You mean to make a hoiden 4 or a hare Of me, to hunt counter thus, and make these douhles : -And you mean no such thing as you send about. Where is your sweetheart now, I marie ? Tub. Oh Hilts ! Hilts. I know you of old ! ne'er halt afore a cripple. Will you have a caudle? where's your grief, sir? speak. Met. Do you hear, friend, do you serve this gentleman ? Hilts. How then, sir? what if I do? perad- venture yea, Peradventure nay; what's that to you, sir? say. Met. Nay, pray you, sir, I meant no harm in truth ; But this good gentleman is arrested. Hilts. How ! Say me that again. Tub. Nay, Basket, never storm ; I am arrested here, upon command From the queen's council ; and I must obey. Met. You say, sir, very true, you must obey. An honest gentleman, in faith ! + You mean to make a hoiden, &c] Dr. Johnson derires this word from the Welsh, hoede/i, an awkward country girl. From the passage in the text, as well as from several others which I have met with of a similar kind, I am induced to think that hoiden was the aucient term for a leveret. It was assuredly the name of some animal remarkable for the vivacity of its motions, and was formerly applied to the youth of both sexes, though now confined to designate a wild romping girl. 172 A TALE OF A TUB. Hilts. He must! Tub. But that which most tormenteth me is this, That justice Bramble hath got hence my Awdrey. Hilts. How! how ! stand by a little, sirrah, you With the badge on your breast. [Draws his sword.] Let's know, sir, what you are. Met. I am, sir, pray you do not look so ter- ribly A pursuivant. Hilts. A pursuivant ! your name, sir ? Met. My name, sir Hilts. What is't? speak. Met. Miles Metaphor ; And justice Preamble's clerk. Tub. What says he ? Hilts. Pray you, Let us alone. You are a pursuivant? Met. No, faith, sir, would I might never stir from you, I is made a pursuivant against my will. Hilts. Ha ! and who made you one ? tell true, or my will Shall make you nothing instantly. Met. [kneels.] Put up Your frightful blade, and your dead-doing look, And I shall tell you all. Hilts. Speak then the truth, And the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Met. My master, justice Bramble, hearing your master, The 'squire Tub, was coming on this way, With mistress Awdrey, the high constable's daughter, Made me a pursuivant, and gave me warrant To arrest him ; so that he might get the lady, With whom he is gone to Pancridge, to the vicar, A TALE OF A TUB. 173 Not to her father's. This was the devfce, Which I beseech you do not tell my master. Tub. O wonderful ! well, Basket, let him rise; And for my free escape forge some excuse. I'll post to Paddington to acquaint old Turfe With the whole business, and so stop the mar- riage. [Exit. Hilts. Well, bless thee : I do wish thee grace to keep Thy master's secrets better, or be hang'd. Met. [rises.] I thank you for your gentle ad- monition. Pray you, let me call you god-father hereafter: And as your godson Metaphor, I promise To keep my master's privities seal'd up In the vallies* of my trust, lock'd close for ever, Or let me be truss'd up at Tyburn shortly. Hilts. Thine own wish save or choke thee ! come away. [_E.veu.nt. ACT III. SCENE I. Kentish Town. Enter Turfe, Clench, Medlay, To-Pan, Scriben, and Clay. Turfe. Passion of me, was ever a man thus cross'd ! All things run arsie versie, up-side down. High constable ! now by our lady of Waisingham, I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger, * In the vallies of my trust. ,] i. e. I suppose, in the portman- teau or cloke bag : from the French valise. 174 A TALE OF A TUB. And with a shovel make clean the highways, Than have this office of a constable, And a high constable ! the higher charge, It brings more trouble, more vexation with it. Neighbours, good neighbours, 'vize me what to do; How we shall bear us in this hue and cry. We cannot find the captain, no such man Lodged at the Lion, nor came thither hurt. The morning we have spent in privy search ; And by that means the bride-ale is deferr'd : The bride, she's left alone in Puppy's charge ; The bridegroom goes under a pair of sureties, And held of all as a respected person. How should we bustle forward? givesomecounsel How to bestir our stumps in these cross ways. Clench. Faith, gossip Turfe, you have, you say, remission To comprehend all such as are despected : Now would I make another privy search Thorough this town, and then you have search'd two towns. Med. Masters, take heed, let us not vind too many : One is enough to stay the hangman's stomach. There is John Clay, who is y vound already, 5 s There is John Clay, who is y vound already ,1 This play is in the western dialect, as the Sad Shepherd is a specimen of the Lowland Scottish : the letter y is commonly prefixed to parti- ciples passive, as well as a poetical augmentation : Quo minus mireris, says Mr. Davis in Junius. B. Jonsonum in fabuld cui ti- tulus Tale of a Tub, inter alia istius (scil. occidentalis) idiomatis exempla, hac verba protulisse, There is John Clay, who is yvound already. Etymol. Liter. Y. Wiial. The dialect (which is only partially western) was, I believe, once more general than is commonly supposed, and, in any case, it is quite certain that the Saxon prefix was as universal as the language. Aubrey, who is very careless in his gossipping tales, A TALE OF A TUB. 175 A proper man, a tile-man by his trade, A man, as one would zay, moulded in clay; As spruce as any neighbour's child among you : And he (you zee) is taken on conspition, And two or three, they zay, what call you 'em? Zuch as the justices ot coram nobis Grant I forget their names, you have many on 'em, Master high constable, they come to you. I have it at my tongue's ends coney-boroughs, To bring him strait avore the zessions-house. Turf'e. O you mean warrens, neighbour, do you not? Med. Ay, ay, thik same ! you know 'em well enough. Turje. Too well, too well ; would I had never known them ! We good vreeholders cannot live in quiet, But every hour new purcepts, hues and cries, Put us to requisitions night and day. What shud a man say? shud we leave thezearch, I am in danger to reburse as much As he was robb'd on ; ay, and pay his hurts. If I should vollow it, all the good cheer That was provided for the wedding-dinner Is spoil'd and lost. (), there are two vat pigs A zindging by the vire : now by St, Tony/ Too good to eat, but on a wedding-day ; And then a goose will bid you all, come cut me. and who seems to have made far more use of his ears than his eyes, tells us, in more than one place, that " Ben Jonson took a catalogue from Mr. Lacy of the Yorkshire dialect, for the clownery to his comedy called The Tale of a Tub" Now by St. Tony, &c] The mention of pigs puts the un- fortunate high. constable in mind of St. Anthony, who was always followed by one. This would not be worth notice, had not Whallcy mistaken the poet's meaning, and given us a St. Thomas. 175 A TALE OF A TUB. Zon Clay, zon Clay, for I must call thee so, Be of good comfort; take my muckinder,' And dry thine eyes. If thou be'st true and honest, And if thou find'st thy conscience clear vrom it, Pluck up a good heart, we'll do well enough : 7 take my muckinder.] i. e. (as every child in the kingdom knows) a napkin or handkerchief. Dr. Johnson, who thus explains it by a very pertinent quotation, is set right by Mr. Weber, who with a modesty peculiar to himself, informs us that the Doctor knows nothing of the matter, and that " a inuckender is a bavarette or mucketer, according to Cotgrave V and this he does in direct contradiction of the intent of the speaker, who exj.iessly distinguishes the muckinder from the bib, or bavarette. Bum. and Flet. vol. ix. p. 208. It may be of some service to the future editors of Beaumont and Fletcher, (for these po<:ts must not be always disgraced with the name of Weber,) to notice another passage, in which the perspicacity of the editor vies with his knowledge. In the Little Thief, " Toby, after reproaching his lady for marrying her daughter to an old rotten justice " with a thousand heathenish smells," adds, " And would you mellow my young pretty mistiess In such a misken ? On this Mr. Weber observes : " This obscure phrase has not been noticed by any of the editors, and I am unable to give any sa- tisfactory explanation of it. As a verb it is common in the north of England and Scotland with the sense of to mistake, to for- bear, to disown ; bat none of these meanings seem applicable to the text. In Skinnei's Etymologkon (which, by the bye, Mr. Weber never saw) we have mitkinj'ro,vox qua; mihi apud Higgi- nium solum occurrit et e.rp. audita. But this applies no better to the text than the other." vol. xiv. p. 52. It applies very well ; but Mr. Weber, who did not understand a syllable of what he was quoting, spoke at random as usual. This *' obscure phrase,'' misken, or mixen, is a word perfectly plain, and to be found in every dictionary in the language. Mixen, in short, is a dunghill, and the allusion is to the practice of accelerating the ripening or maturing of any thing by burying it in warm dung. Mr. Weber's ignorance is really pitiable, that of his employers wants a name. Miskin fro, which Skinner found in Iliggin, means dunghill drudge, a term oi contempt. A TALE OF A TUB. 177 If not, confess a-truth's name. But in faith, I durst be sworn upon all holy books, John Clay would ne'er commit a robbery On his own head. Clay. No, truth is my rightful judge ; I have kept my hands herehence from evil- speaking, Lying, and slandering; and my tongue from stealing. He do not live this day can say, John Clay, I have zeen thee, but in the way of honesty. Pan. Faith, neighbour Medlay, I durst be his burroughs He would not look a true man in the vace. Clay. I take the town to concord, where I dwell, All Kilborn be my witness, if I were not Begot in bashfulness, brought up in shamefaced- ness. Let 'un bring a dog but to my vace that can Zay I have beat 'un, and without a vault; Or but a cat will swear upon a book, I have as much as zet a vire her tail, And I'll give him or her a crown for 'mends. But to give out and zay I have robb'da captain ! Receive me at the latter day, if I E'er thought of any such matter, or could mind it. Med. No, John, you are come of too good personage : I think my gossip Clench and master Turfe Both think you would ratempt no such voulmatter. Turfe. But how unhappily it comes to pass Just on the wedding-day ! I cry me mercy, I had almost forgot the hue and cry : Good neighbour Pan, you are the thirdborough, ' Faitky neighbour Medlay^ I durst be his burrougb,] i. e. his pledge or security. Whal. The word, which is pure Saxon, is very common in our old writers. VOL. VI. . N 178 A TALE OF A TUB. And P'ogenes Scriben, you my learned writer, Make out a new purcept Lord for thy goodness, I had forgot my daughter all this while ! The idle knave hath brought no news from her. Here comes the sneaking puppy. Enter Puppy and dame Tubfe, on different sides. What's the news ? My heart ! my heart ! I fear all is not well, Something's mishapp'd, that he is come without her. Pup. O, where's my master, my master, my master ? Dame T. Thy master ! what would'st have with thy master, man ? There is thy master. Turfe. What's the matter, Puppy ? Pup. O master, oh dame ! oh dame, oh master? Dame T. What say'st thou to thy master or thy dame ? Pup. Oh, John Clay, John Clay, John Clay ! Turfe. What of John Clay ? Med. Luck grant he bring not news he shall be hang'd ! Clench. The world forfend ! I hope it is not so well. Clay, O Lord ! oh me ! what shall I do ? poor John 1 Pup. Oh John Clay, John Clay, John Clay ! Clay. Alas, That ever I was born ! I will not stay by't, For all the tiles in Kilborn. [Runs off. Dame T. What of Clay ? Speak, Puppy ; what of him ? Pup. He hath lost, he hath lost A TALE OF A TUB. 179 Turfe. For luck sake speak, Puppy, what hath he lost ? Pup. Oh Awdrey, Awdrey, Awdrey ! Dame T. What of my daughter Awdrey ? Pup. I tell you, Awdrey do you understand me? Awdrey, sweet master, Awdrey, my dear dame Turfe. Where is she ? what's become of her, I pray thee ? Pup. Oh, the serving-man, the serving-man, the serving-man ! Turfe. What talk'st thou of the serving-man! where's Awdrey? Pup. Gone with the serving-man, gone with the serving-man. Dame T. Good Puppy, whither is she gone with him? Pup. I cannot tell: he bad me bring you word The captain lay at the Lion, and before I came again, Awdrey was gone with the serving- man; I tell you, Awdrey's run away with the serving- man. Turfe. 'Od'socks, my woman, what shall we do now ? Dame T. Now, so you help not, man, I know not, I. turfe. This was your pomp of maids ! I told you on't. Six maids to vollow you, and not leave one To wait upon your daughter ! I zaid pride Would be paid one day her old vi'pence, wife. Med. What of John Clay, Ball Puppy ? Pup. He hath lost Med. His life for velony ? Pup. No, his wife by villainy, N2 180 A TALE OF A TUB. Turfe. Now villains both ! oh that same hue and cry ! Oh neighbours ! oh that cursed serving-man ! O maids ! O wife ! but John Clay, where is he ? How ! fled for fear, zay ye ? will he slip us now? We that are sureties must require 'un out. How shall we do to find the serving-man ? Cock's bodikins, we must not lose John Clay : Awdrey, my daughter Awdrey too ! let us zend To all the towns and zeek her; but, alas, The hue and cry, that must be look'd unto. Enter Tub. Tub. What, in a passion, Turfe? Turfe. Ay, good 'squire Tub. Were never honest varmers thus perplext. Tub. Turfe, I am privy to thy deep unrest: The ground of which springs from an idle plot, Cast by a suitor to your daughter Awdrey And thus much, Turfe, let me advertise you ; Your daughter Awdrey met I on the way, With justice Bramble in her company ; Who means to marry her at Pancras-church. And there is canon Hugh to meet them ready : Which to prevent, you must not trust delay ; But winged speed must cross their sly intent: Then hie thee, Turfe, haste to forbid the banes. Turfe. Hath justice Bramble got my daughter Awdrey ? A little while shall he enjoy her, zure. But O, the hue and cry! that hinders me; I must pursue that, or neglect my journey : I'll e'en leave all, and witli the patient ass, The over-laden ass, throw off my burden, And cast mine office ; pluck in my large ears Betimes, lest some disjudge 'em to be horns: A TALE OF A TUB. 181 I'll leave to beat it on the broken hoof, And ease my pasterns ; I'll no more high constables. Tub. I cannot choose but smile to see thee troubled With such a bald, half-hatched circumstance. The captain was not robb'd, as is reported ; That trick the justice craftily devised, To break the marriage with the tileman Clay. The hue and cry was merely counterfeit : The rather may you judge it to be such, Because the bridegroom was described to be One of the thieves first in the felony ; Which, how far 'tis from him, y oursel ves may guess. 'Twas justice Bramble's fetch to get the wench. Turfe. And is this true, 'squire Tub ? Tub. Believe me, Turfe, As I am a 'squire ; or less, a gentleman. Turfe. I take my office back, and my authority, Upon your worship's words: Neighbours, I am High constable again. Where's my zon Clay? He shall be zon yet ; wife, your meat by leisure : Draw back the spits. Dame T. That's clone already, man. Turfe I'll break this marriage off; and after- ward, She shall be given to her first betroth'd. Look to the meat, 9 wife, look well to the roast. [Exit ', followed by his neighbours. Tub. I'll follow him aloof to see the event. [Exit. Look to the meat.] Here is a manifest sneer at Shakspeare. " Look to the baked meat, good Angelica." The unworthy subterfuge of roasting this meat instead of baking it, as in Romeo and Juliet would not have screened the author from the just resentment of the variorum critics, had they luckily known of this passage. 182 A TALE OF A TUB. Pup. Dame, mistress, though I do not turn the spit, I hope yet the pig's head. Dame T, Come up, Jack sauce; It shall be serv'd iu to you. Pup. No, no service, But a reward for service. Dame T. I still took you For an unmannerly Puppy : will you come, And vetch more wood to the vire, master Ball? [Exit, Pup, I, wood to the vire ! I shall piss it out first : You think to make me e'en your ox or ass, Or any thing : though I cannot right myself On you, I'll sure revenge me on your meat. [Exit, SCENE II. The Same, Before Turfe's House. Enter lady Tub, Pol Martin, and Wispe. Pol. Madam, to Kentish Town we are got at length ; But by the way we cannot meet the 'squire, Nor by inquiry can we hear of him. Here is Turfe's house, the father of the maid. Lady 7 Pol Martin, see! the streets are strew'd with herbs ; And here hath been a wedding, Wispe, it seems. Pray heaven this bride-ale be not for my son ! A TALE OF A TUB. 183 Good Martin, knock, knock quickly : ask for Turfe. My thoughts misgive me, I am in such a doubt Pol. [knocking/] Who keeps the house here ? Pup. [within.\ Why the door and walls Do keep the house. Pol. I ask then, who's within ? Pup. [within.] Not you that are without. Pol. Look forth, and speak Into the street here. Come before my lady. Pup. [within.] Before my lady ! Lord have mercy upon me : If I do come before her, she will see The handsomest man in all the town, pardee ! Enter Puppy from the house. Now stand I vore her, what zaith velvet she? Lady T. Sirrah, whose man are you ? Pup. Madam, my master's. Lady T. And who's thy master ? Pup. What you tread on, madam. Lady T. I tread on an old Turfe. Pup. That Turfe's my master. Lady T. A merry fellow ! what's thy name? Pup. Ball Puppy They call me at home ; abroad, Hannibal Puppy. Lady T. Come hither, I must kiss thee, valen- tine Puppy. Wispe, have you got a valentine? Wispe None, madam : He's the first stranger that I saw. Lady T. To me He is so, and as such, let's share him equally. [They struggle to kiss him. Pup* Help, help, good dame ! A rescue, and in time. 184 A TALE OF A TUB. c Instead of bills, with colstaves come ; instead o r spears, with spits ; Your slices serve for slicing swords, to save me and my wits : A lady and her woman here, their huisher eke by side, (But he stands mute,) have plotted how your Puppy to divide. Enter dame Turfe, Joan, Joyce, Madge, fyc. Dame T. How now, what noise is this with you, Ball Puppy ? Pup. Oh dame, and fellows of the kitchen! arm, Arm, for my safety ; if you love your Ball : Here is a strange thing call'd a lady, a mad-dame, And a device of hers,* yclept her woman, Have plotted on me in the king's highway, To steal me from myself, and cut me in halfs, To make one valentine to serve them both ; This for my right-side, that my left-hand love. Dame T, So saucy, Puppy ! to use no more re- verence Unto my lady and her velvet gown ? Lady T. Turfe 's wife, rebuke him not ; your man doth please me With his conceit : hold, there are ten old nobles, To make thee merrier yet, half-valentine. Pup. I thank you, right side ; could my left as much, Twould make me a man of mark, young Han- nibal ! " And a device of hers.~] i. e. an animated puppet. Device (vice) was the name given to every piece of machinery moved by wheels or wires. See vol. iv. p. 41. * *Tivould make me a man of mark.] It would appear from this that the line above (" there are ten old nobles,") was A TALE OF A TUB. 185 Lady T. Dido shall make that good, or I will for her. Here, Dido Wispe, there's for your Hannibal; He is your countryman as well as valentine. Wispe. Here, master Hannibal, my lady's bounty For her poor woman, Wispe. Pup. Brave Carthage queen ! And such was Dido : I will ever be Champion to her, who Juno is to thee. Dame T. Your ladyship is very welcome here. Please you, good madam, to go near the house. Lady T. Turfe's wife, I come thus far to seek thy husband, Having some business to impart unto him; Is he at home ? Dame T. O no, an it shall please you : He is posted hence to Pancridge, with a witness. Young justice Bramble has kept level coyl J Here in our quarters, stole away our daughter, And master Turfe's run after, as he can, To stop the marriage, if it will be stopp'd. Pol. Madam, these tidings are not much amiss: For if the justice have the maid in keep, You need not fear the marriage of vour son. Lady T. That somewhat easeth my suspicious breast. corrupt, and that we should read, Hold, there is an old noble; but 1 have changed nothing. The quibble between nobble and mark, (the latter being double the value ot the former) is a fa- vourite with our old writers. Thus, in The Puritan : " A man of 7nark, quoth-a ! I do not think he can shew a beggar's noble. A. I. Sc. 3. See p. 89. * Yonngjustice Bramble has ktpt level coyl.] i. e. (in our old dramatists) riot or disturbance. But, properly, level coil is a game in which each of the parties strives to supplant and win the place of the other. The childish play of catch-corner comes something near it. Coles derives it from the Italian (Ievar il culo,) and calls it pitch. buttock. If there be two plays of the name, it is well; this may then be one of them. 186 A TALE OF A TUB. Tell me, Turfe's wife, when was my son with Awdrey ? How long is it since you saw him at your house? Pup. Dame, let me take this rump out of your mouth. Dame T. What mean you by that, sir ? Pup. Rump andtaile's all one, But I would use a reverence for my lady : I would not zay, sur-reverence, the tale Out of your mouth, but rather take the rump. Dame T. A well-bred youth ! and vull of favour you are. Pup. What might they zay, when I were gone, if I Not weigh'd my words? This Puppy is a vool, Great Hannibal's an ass ; he hath no breeding : No, lady gay, you shall not zay That your Val. Puppy, was so unlucky, In speech to fail, as to name a tail, Be as be may be, Vore a fair lady. Lady T. Leave jesting ; tell us when you saw our son, Pup. Marry, it is two hours ago. Lady T. Since you saw him ? Pup. You might have seen him too, if you had look'd up ; For it shined as bright as day. Lady T. I mean my son. Pup. Your sun, and our sun, are they not all one ? Lady T. Fool, thou mistak'st ; I ask'd thee for my son. Pup. 1 had thought there had been no more sons than one. I know not what you ladies have, or may have. Pol. Didst thou ne'er hear my lady had a son? A TALE OF A TUB. 187 Pup. She may have twenty; but for a son, unless She mean precisely, 'squire Tub, her zon, He was here now, and brought my master word, That justice Bramble had got mistress Awdrey : But whither he be gone, here's none can tell. Lady T. Martin, I wonder at this strange dis- course : The fool, it seems, tells true ; my son the 'squire Was doubtless here this morning : for the match, I'll smother what I think, and staying here, Attend the sequel of this strange beginning. Turfe's wife, my people and I will trouble thee Until we hear some tidings of thy husband ; The rather for my party-valentine. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Pancras. Enter Turfe, Awdrey, Clench, Medlay, Pan, and Scriben. Turfe. Well, I have carried it, and will triumph Over this justice as becomes a constable, And a high constable: next our St. George, Who rescued the king's daughter, I will ride ; Above prince Arthur.* Clench. Or our Shored itch duke. Med. Or Pancridge earl. Pan. Or Bevis, or sir Guy, Who were high constables both. * J -will ride Above prince Arthur.} In the procession of the society of archers (called prince Arthur'! knights) to the Artillery-ground, where an annual display of skill took place. The worthies sub- sequently mentioned probably bore a part in the march, which seems to have been conducted with some kind of burlesque parade. 188 A TALE OF A TUB. Clench. One of Southampton- Med. The t'other of Warwick castle. Turfe. You shall work it Into a story for me, neighbour Medlay, Over my chimney. Scri. I can give you, sir, A Roman story of a petty-constable, That had a daughter that was call'd Virginia, Like mistress Awdrey, and as young as she ; And how her father bare him in the business, 'Gainst justice Appius, a decemvir in Rome, And justice of assize. Turj'e. That, that, good D'ogenes ! A learned man is a chronicle. Scri. I can tell you A thousand of great Pompey, Caesar, Trajan, All the high constables there. Tttrfc That m as their place ; They were no more. tcri Dictator and high constable Were both the same. Med. High constable was more though : He laid Dick Tator by the heels. 4 Pan. Dick Toter ! He was one o' the waights o' the city, I have read o' 'un ; He was a fellow would be drunk, debauch'd And he did zet 'un in the stocks indeed : His name was Vadian, and a cunning toter. 5 He laid Dick Tator by the heels.] Low as the joke is, we find Butler has borrowed it in his speech of Colonel Pride: u They talk indeed of a Roman general, who came from the '* plough ; Dick 7 alor, 1 think they call him, who having beat " the enemy went home to the country rich, and renowned lor " a vei) wiseman.'' Last Speech of Colonel Pride. Whal. * his namtuas I'adian and a cunning toter.] A toter or tootcr is a low term lor a piper. Who this " cunning toter" was, [ cannot inform the reader, unless it be Robert Fabyan. Fabian was parcel poet, and parcel historian, and wrote a rhyming A TALE OF A TUB. 189 Awd. Was ever silly maid thus posted off, That should have had three husbands in one day ; Yet, by bad fortune, am possest of none ! I went to church to have been wed to Clay, Then 'squire Tub he seized me on the way, And thought to have had me, but he mist his aim ; And justice Bramble, nearest of the three, Was well nigh married to me ; when by chance, In rush'd my father, and broke off that dance. Turje. Ay, girl, there's ne'er a justice on 'em all Shall teach the constable to guard his own : Let's back to Kentish-town, and there make merry: These news will be glad tidings to my wife. Thou shalt have Clay, my wench : that word shall stand. He's found by this time, sure, or else he's drownVl ; The wedding-diuner will be spoil'd: make haste. Awd. Husbands, they say, grow thick, but thin are sown ; I care not who it be, so I have one. Turfe. Ay, zay you zo ! perhaps you shall ha' none for that. Awd. None, out uponmel what shall I do then? Med. Sleep, mistress Awdrey, dream on proper men. [Exeunt, Chronicle of English story down to his own times, ths end of the 15th century. If this be To-Pan's Vadian^ he certainly cannot be called a cunning toter ; but he was undoubtedly po- pular among the lower classes : he was besides, an alderman, a sheriff', and by occupation a mercer. His Chronicle treats of pageants, lord-mayors' feasts, and other goodly matters, very delectable to city ears. 190 A TALE OF A TUB. SCENE IV. Another part of the Same, Enter sir Hugh and Preamble. Hugh. O bone Deus, have you seen the like ! Here was, Hodge hold thine ear fair, whilst I strike. Body o' me, how came this geer about? Pre, I know not, Canon, but it falls out cross. Nor can I make conjecture by the circumstance Of these events ; it was impossible, Being so close and politicly carried, To come so quickly to the ears of Turfe. O priest ! had but thy slow delivery Been nimble, and thy lazy Latin tongue But run the forms o'er with that swift dispatch As had been requisite, all had been well. Hugh, What should have been, that never loved the friar; But thus you see the old adage verified, Multa cadunt inter you can guess the rest, Many things fall between the cup and lip ; And though they touch, you are not sure to drink. You lack'd good fortune, we had done our parts : Give a man fortune, throw him in the sea. The properer man, the worse luck : stay a time ; Tempus edax In time the stately ox* Good counsels lightly never come too late. Pre, You, sir, will run your counsels out of breath. * In time the stately ox ] Old Jeronymo again ! " In time the savage bull sustains the yoke,'' &c. Lightly, in the next line, is commonly, usually. A TALE OF A TUB. 191 Hugh. Spur a free horse, he'll run himself to death.' Sancti Evangelists ! here comes Miles ! Enter Metaphor. Pre, What news, man, with our new-made pursuivant ? Met. A pursuivant ! would I were or more pursie, And had more store of money ; or less pursie, And had more store of hreath : you call me pur- suivant, But I could never vaunt of any purse 1 had, sin' you were my godfathers and god- mothers, And gave me that nick-name. Pre. What's now the matter? Met. Nay, 'tis no matter, I have been simply beaten. Hugh. What is become of the 'squire and thy prisoner? Met. The lines of blood run streaming from my head, Can speak what rule the 'squire hath kept with me. Pre. I pray thee, Miles, relate the manner how. Met. Be't known unto you by these presents then, That I, Miles Metaphor, your worship's clerk, Have e'en been beaten to an allegory, By multitude of hands. Had they been but Some five or six, I had whipp'd them all, like tops In Lent, and hurl'd them into Hobier's hole, Or the next ditch ; I had crack'd all their cos- tards, As nimbly as a squirrel will crack nuts. U A TALE OF A TUB. And flourished like to Hercules the porter' Among the pages. But when they came on Like hees about a hive, crows about carrion, Flies about sweatmeats ; nay, like watermen About a fare : then was poor Metaphor Glad to give up the honour of the day, To quit his charge to them, and run away To save his life, only to tell this news. Hush. How indirectlv all things are fallen out ! I cannot choose but wonder what they were Rescued your rival from the keep of Miles ; But most of all, I cannot well digest The manner how our purpose came to Turfe. Pre. Miles, I will see that all thy hurts be drest. As for the 'squire's escape, it matters not, We have by this means disappointed him ; And that was all the main I aimed at. But canon Hugh, now muster up thy wits, And call thy thoughts into the consistory; Search all the secret corners of thy cap, To find another quaint devised drift, To disappoint her marriage with this Clay : Do that, and I'll reward thee jovially. Hugh. Weil said, magister justice. I fl fit you not With such a new and well-laid stratagem, As never yet your ears did hear a finer, Call me with Lilly, Bos, Fur, Sus at que Sacerdos. Pre. I hear there's comfort in thy words yet, Canon. I'll trust thy regulars, and say no more. [Exeunt Hugh and Pre. Met. I'll follow too. And if the dapper priest Be but as cunning, point in his device, 8 7 Hercules the porter.] Sec p. 62. 8 Be but as cunning, point in his device,] That is, be as exact and clever in his plot as I was in mine. See vol. iv. p. 169. A TALE OF A TUB. 193 As I was in my lie, my master Bramble Will stalk, as led by the nose with these new promises, And fatted with supposes of fine hopes. [Exit. SCENE V. Kentish Town. Before Turfe's House. Enter Turfe, dame Turfe, lady Tub, Pol Mar- tin, Awdrey, and Puppy, Turfe. Well, madam, I may thank the 'squire your son ; For, but for him, I had been over-reacrTd. Dame T. Now heaven's blessing light upon his heart ! We are beholden to him, indeed, madam. Lady T. But can you not resolve me where he is, Nor about what his purposes were bent ? Turfe. Madam, they no whit were concerning me, And therefore was I less inquisitive. . Lady T. Fair maid, in faith, speak truth, and not dissemble : Does he not often come and visit you ? Aud. His worship now and then, please you, takes pains To see my father and mother ; but, for me, I know myself too mean for his high thoughts To stoop at, more than asking a light question, To make him merry, or to pass his time. Lady T. A sober maid ! call for my woman, Martin. vol. vi, O 19'* A TALE OF A TUB. Pol. The maids and her half-valentine have plied her With courtesy of the bride-cake and the bowl, As she is laid awhile. Lady T. O let her rest. We will cross o'er to Can bury in the interim,' And so make home. Farewell, good Turfe, and thy wife ; I wish your daughter joy. [Exeunt Lady T. and Pol. Turfe. Thanks to your ladyship. Where is John Clay now, have you seen him yet? Dame T. No, he has hid himself out of the way, For fear of the hue and cry. Turfe. What, walks that shadow Avore 'un still ? Puppy, go seek 'un out, Search all the corners that he haunts unto, And call 'un forth. We'll once more to the church, And try our vortunes : luck, son Valentine i Where are the wise men all of Finsbury r Pup. Where wise men should be ; at the ale and bride-cake. I would this couple had their destiny, Or to be hang'd, or married out o' the way : Enter Clench, Medlay, Scriben, 8$c. Man cannot get the mount'nance of an egg-shell To stay his stomach. Vaith, for mine own part, I have zupp'd up so much broth as would have cover'd A leg o' beef o'er head and ears in the porridge-pot, 9 We will cross o'er to Canbury in the interim,'} Canberry. house is in the neighbourhood of Islington. The true name of it is Canon-berry ; it was anciently a farm or grange belonging to the monks of the priory of St. Bartholomew inSmithfield. Whal. It is now divided into many separate dwellings, and has un- dergone another change, being called Cambrayhouae. A TALE OF A TUB. 195 And yet I cannot sussifie wild nature. Would they were once dispatch'd, we might to dinner. I am with child of a huge stomach, and long, Till by some honest midwife-piece of beef I be deliver'd of it : I must go now. And hunt out for this Kilborn calf, John Clay, Whom where to find, I know not, nor which way, [Exit, Enter sir Hugh, disguised as a captain. Hugh. Thus as a beggar in a king's disguise, Or an old cross well sided with a may-pole, Comes canon Hugh accoutred as you see, Disguised, soldado-like. Mark his device: The canon is that captain Thums was robb'd, These bloody scars upon my face are wounds, This scarf upon mine arm shews my late hurts, And thus am I to gull the constable. Now have among you for a man at arms ! [Aside. Friends, by your leave, which of you is one Turfe? Turje. Sir, I am Turfe, if you would speak with me. Hugh. With thee, Turfe, if thou be'st high constable. Turfe. I am both Turfe, sir, and high constable. Hugh. Then, Turfe or Scurfe, high or low constable, Know, I was once a captain at St. Quintin's, And passing cross the ways over the country, This morning, betwixt this and Hamstead-heath, Was by a crew of clowns robb'd, bobb'd, and hurt. No sooner had I got my wounds bound up, But with much pain I went to the next justice, One master Bramble, here at Maribone : And here a warrant is, which he hath directed O 2 196 A TALE OF A TUB. For you, one Turfe, if your name be Toby Tarfe, Who have let fall, they say, the hue and cry ; And you shall answer it afore the justice. Turfe. Heaven and hell, dogs and devils, what is this ! Neighbours, was ever constable thus cross'd ? What shall we do ? Med. Faith, all go hang ourselves ; I know no other way to scape the law. Re-enter Puppy. Pup. News, news, O news- Turfe. What, hast thou found out Clay? Pup. No, sir, the news is, that I cannot find him. Hugh. Why do you dally, you damn'd russet- coat? You peasant, nay, you clown, you constable ! See tliat you bring forth the suspected party, Or by mine honour, which I won in field, I'll make you pay for it afore the justice. Turfe. Fie, fie ! O wife, I'm now in a fine pickle. He that was most suspected is not found ; And which now makes me think he did the deed, He thus absents bim, and dares not be seen. Captain, my innocence will plead for me. Wife, I must go, needs, whom the devil drives : Pray for me, wife and daughter, pray for me. Hugh. I'll lead the way thus is the match put off, And if my plot succeed, as I have laid it, My captainship shall cost him many a crown. [Aside. Exeunt all but Dame T. Awd. and Puppy. Dame T. So, we have brought our eggs to a fair market. Out on that villain Clay ! would he do a robbery ? I'll ne'er trust smooth-faced tileman for his sake. A TALE OF A TUB. 197 Azvd, Mother, the still sow eats up all the draff. [Exeunt Dame T. and Azvd. Pup. Thus is my master, Toby Turfe, the pattern Of all the painful adventures now in print ! I never could hope better of this match, This bride-ale ; for the night before to-day, (Which is within man's memory, I take it,) At the report of it an ox did speak, Who died soon after ; a cow lost her calf; The bell-weather was flay'd for it ; a fat hog Was singed, and wash'd, and shaven all over, to Look ugly 'gainst this day : the ducks they quack'd, The hens too cackled ; at the noise whereof A drake was seen to dance a headless round ; The goose was cut in the head to hear it too : Brave chant-it-clear, his noble heart was done, His comb was cut ; and two or three of his wives, Or fairest concubines, had their necks broke Ere they would zee this day : to mark the verven Heart of a beast ! the very pig, the pig This very morning, as he was a roasting, Cried out his eyes, and made a shew, as he would Have bit in two the spit; as he would say, There shall no roast-meat be this dismal day. And zure, I think, if I had not got his tongue Between my teeth and eat it, he had spoke it. Well, I will in and cry too ; never leave Crying until our maids may drive a buck With my salt tears at the next washing-day. [Exit. 198 A TALE OF A TUB. ACT IV. SCENE I. Maribone. A Room injustice Preamble's House. Enter justice Puf.amblf, sir Hugh, disguised as before, Tuufk, and Metaphoh. Pre. Keep out those fellows ; I'll have none come in But the high constable, the man of peace, And the queen's captain, the brave man of war. Now, neighbour Turfe, the cause why you are call'd Before me by my warrant, but unspecified, Is this ; and pray you mark it thorougly. Here is a gentleman, and, as it seems, Both of good birth, fair speech, and peaceable ; Who was this morning robb'd here in the wood ; You, for your part, a man of good report, Of credit, landed, and of fair demeans, And by authority, high constable ; Are, notwithstanding, touch'd in this complaint, Of being careless in the hue and cry. I cannot choose but grieve a soldier's loss ; And I am sorry too for your neglect, Being my neighbour : this is all I object. Hugh. This is not all ; I can allege far more, And almost urge him for an accessary. Good master justice, give me leave to speak, For I am plaintiff: let not neighbourhood Make him secure, or stand on privilege. A TALE OF A TUB. 199 Pre. Sir, I dare use no partiality; Object then what you please, so it be truth. Hugh This more, and which is more than he can answer ; Besides his letting fall the hue and cry, He doth protect the man charged with the felony, And keeps him hid, I hear, within his house, Because he is affied unto his daughter. Turfe. I do defy 'un, so shall she do too. I pray your worship's favour let me have hearing. 1 do convess, 'twas told me such a velony, And't not disgrieved me a little, when 'twas told me, Vor I was going to church to marry Awdrey : And who should marry her but this very Clay, Who was charged to be the chief thief o' 'em all. Now I (the halter stick me if I tell Your worships any leazins) did fore-think 'un The truest man; till he waz run away : I thought I had had 'un as zure as in a zaw-pit, Or in mine oven ; nay, in the town-pound : I was zo zure o' 'un, I'd have gi'n my life for 'un, Till he did start : but now I zee 'un guilty, Az var as I can look at 'un. Would you ha' more ? .Hugh. Yes, I will have, sir, what the law will give me. You gave your word to see him safe forth-coming; I challenge that: but that is forfeited ; Beside, your carelessness in the pursuit, Argues your slackness and neglect of duty, Which ought be punish'd with severity. Pre. He speaks but reason, Turfe. Bring forth the man And you are quit ; but otherwise, your word Binds you to make amends for all his loss, And think yourself befriended, if he take it, Without a farther suit or going to law. 200 A TALE OF A TUB. Come to a composition with him, Turfe, The law is costly, and will draw on charge. Turfe. Yes, I do know, I vurst mun vee a returney, And then make legs to my great man o' law, To be o' my counsel, and take trotible-vees, And yet zay nothing for me, hut devise All district means, to ransackle me o' my money. A pest'lence prick the throats o' 'em ! I do know 'em, As well az I waz in their bellies, and brought up there.' What would you ha' me do, what would you ask of me ? Hugh. I ask the restitution of my money, And will not bate one penny of the sum ; Fourscore and five pound : and I ask, besides, Amendment for my hurts ; my pain and suffering Are loss enough for me, sir, to sit down with. I'll put it to your worship ; what you award me, I'll take, and give him a general release. Pre. And what say you now, neighbour Turfe? Turfe. I put it Even to your worship's bitterment, hab, nab. 1 shall have a chance o' the dice for't, I hope, let 'em e'en run : and Pre. Faith, then I'll pray you, 'cause he is my neighbour, To take a hundred pound, and give him day. Hugh. Saint Valentine's day, I will, this very day, Before sun-set; my bond is forfeit else. Turfe. Where will you have it paid ? Hugh. Faith, I am a stranger Here in the country ; know you canon Hugh, The vicar of Pancras ? Tufje. Yes, who [knows] not him? A TALE OF A TUB. 201 Hugh. I'll make him my attorney to receive it, And give you a discharge. Turfe. Whom shall I send for't ? Pre. Why, if you please, send Metaphor my clerk: And, Turfe, I much commend thy willingness; It's argument of thy integrity. Turfe. But my integrity shall he my zelf still : Good master Metaphor, give my wife this key, And do but whisper it into her hand ; She knows it well enough ; bid her, by that, Deliver you the two zeal'd bags of silver, That lie in the corner of the cupboard, stands At my bed-side, they are vifty pound a piece ; And bring them to your master. Met. If I prove not As just a carrier as my friend Tom Long was, Then call me his curtal; change my name of Miles, To Guiles, Wiles, Piles, Biles, or the foulest name You can devise, to crambo with for ale. Hugh, [takes Met. aside.'] Come hither, Miles; bring by that token too Fair Awdrey ; say, her father sent for her. Say, Clay is found, and waits at Pancras-church, Where I attend to marry them in haste : For, by this means, Miles, I may say't to thee, Thy master must to Awdrey married be. But not a word but mum : go, get thee gone, Be wary of thy charge, and keep it close. Met. O super-dainty canon, vicar incony 1 * Make no delay, Miles, but away ; And bring the wench and money. [Exit. Hugh. Now, sir, I see you meant but honestly ; And, but that business calls me hence away, * Vicar incony /] Inconey \$Jine or curious. Whal. It occurs frequently in Shakspeare as a term of endearment. 202 A TALE OF A TUB. I would not leave you till the sun were lower. But, master justice, one word, sir, with you. [Aside to Pre. By the same token, is your mistress sent for By Metaphor, your clerk, as from her father; Who, when she comes, I'll marry her to you, Unwitting to this Turfe, who shall attend Me at the parsonage: this was my plot, Which I must now make good, turn canon again, In my square cap. I humbly take my leave. [Edit. Pre. Adieu, good captain. Trust me, neighbour Turfe, He seems to be a sober gentleman : But this distress hath somewhat stirr'd his patience. And men, you know, in such extremities, Apt not themselves to points of courtesy ; I'm glad you have made this end. Turfe. You stood my friend, I thank your justice- worship ; pray you be Prezent anon at tendering of the money, And zee me have a discharge ; vor I have no craft In your law quiblins. Pre. I'll secure you, neighbour. [Exeunt. SCENE II.* The Country near Maribone. Enter Medlay, Clench, Pan, and Scriben. Med. Indeed there is a woundy luck in names, sirs, And a vain mystery, an' a man knew where * This is termed by Jonson or his printer, an interloping scene, and is not numbered with the rest. It adds nothing to the A TALE OF A TUB. 203 To vind it. My godsire's name, I'll tell you, Was In-and-in Shittle, and a weaver he was, And it did fit his craft : for so his shittle Went in and in still ; this way, and then that way. And he named me In-and-in Medlay ; which serves A joiner's craft, because that we do lay Things in and in, in our work. But I am truly Architectonicus professor, rather ; That is, as one would zay, an architect. Clench. As I am a varrier and a visicary ; Horse-smith of Hamstead, and the whole town leach. Med. Yes, you have done woundy cures, gossip Clench. Clench. An I can zee the stale once through a urine-hole, I'll give a shrewd guess, be it man or beast. I cured an ale-wife once that had the staggers Worse than five horses, without rowelling. My god-phere was a Rabian or a Jew, (You can tell, D'oge,) they call'd 'un doctor Rasi. Scri. One Rasis was a great Arabic doctor. Clench. He was king Harry's doctor, and my god-phere. Pan. Mine was a merry Greek, To-Pan of Twiford, A jovial tinker, and a stopper of holes ; Who left me metal-man of Belsise, his heir. Med. But what was yours, D'oge ? Scri. Vaith, I cannot tell, progress of the plot, and seems inserted merely to give time for Metaphor's nalk to Kentish Town. A little pains might have obviated this awkward effort to save appearances; but Jonson is evidently at play through the whole of this light piece, which was written less perhaps with a view to fame, than to relieve the tcedinm and misery of a long disease. 204 A TALE OF A TUB. If mine were kyrsin'd or no : but zure he had A kyrsin name, that he left me, Diogenes. A mighty learned man, but pestilence poor; Vor he had no house, save an old tub, to dwell in, (I vind that in records,) and still he turn'd it In the wind's teeth, as't blew on his backside, And there they would lie routing one at other, A week sometimes. Med. Thence came, A Tale of a Tub, And the virst Tale of a Tub, old D'ogenes Tub. Scri. That was avore sir Peter Tub or his lady. Pan. Ay, or the 'squire their son, Tripoly Tub. Clench. The 'squire is a fine gentleman. Med. He is more, A gentleman and a half; almost a knight, Within zix inches ; that is his true measure. Clench. Zure you can gage 'un. Med. To a streak, or less ; I know his d'ameters and circumference : A knight is six diameters, and a 'squire Is vive, and zomewhat more ; I know't by compass And scale of man. I have upon my rule here The just perportions of a knight, a 'squire ; With a tame justice, or an officer rampant, Upon the bench, from the high constable Down to the headborough, or tithing-man, Or meanest minister of the peace, God save 'un ! Pan. Why you can tell us by the squire, neighbour, 3 Whence he is call'd a constable, and whaffore. Med. No, that's a book-case: Scribencandothat. That's writing and reading, and records. * Why you can tell us by the squire, neighbour."] It should be square, an instrument or kind of rule used by carpenters. Whal. And so Whalley prints it : they are, however, the same word ; with this exception in favour of squire y that it is usually preferred by the writers of Jonson's age. A TALE OF A TUB. 205 Scri. Two words, Cyning and staple, make a constable ; 4 As we would say, a hold or stay for the king. Clench. All constables are truly Johns for the king, Whate'er their names are, be they Tony or Roger. Med. And all are sworn as vingars o' the one hand, To hold together 'gainst the breach o' the peace ; The high constable is the thumb, as one would zay, The hold-fast o' the rest. Pan. Pray luck he speed Well in the business between captain Thums And him ! Med. I'll warrant 'un for a groat ; I have his measures here in rithmetique, How he should bear 'un self in all the lines Of's place and office : let us zeek 'un out. [Exeunt, SCENE III. The Country near Kentish Town. Enter Tub and Hilts. Tub. Hilts, how dost thou like of this our good day's work ? Hilts. As good e'en ne'er a whit, as ne'er the better. Tub. Shall we to Pancridge or to Kentish-town, - Hilts ? 4 Cyning and staple, make a constable^ The learned Scriben had just been looking into Verstegan for his ridiculous etymology. Clench, in his reply, soars beyond my comprehension. 05 A TALE OF A TUB. Hilts. Let Kentish-town or Pancridge come to us, If either will; I will go home again. Tub. Faith, Basket, our success hath been but bad, And nothing prospers that we undertake ; For we can neither meet with Clay nor Awdrey, The canon Hugh, nor Turfe the constable : We are like men that wander in strange woods, And lose ourselves in search of them we seek. Hilts. This was because we rose on the wrong side : But as I am now here, just in the mid-way, I'll zet my sword on the pummel, and that line The point vails to, we'll take, whether it be To Kentish Town, the church, or home again. Tub. Stay, stay thy hand : here's justice Bram- ble's clerk, Enter Metaphor. The unlucky hare hath crost us all this day. I'll stand aside whilst thou pump'st out of him His business, Hilts ; and how he's now employed, [JVulks aside. Hilts. Let me alone, I'll use him in his kind. Met. Oh for a pad-horse, pack-horse, or apost- horse, To bear me on his neck, his back, or his croup ! I am as weary with running as a mill-horse That hath led the mill once, twice, thrice about, After the breath hath been out of his body. I could get up upon a pannier, a pannel, Or, to say truth, a very pack-saddle, Till all my honey were turn'd into gall, And I could sit in the seat no longer : Oh [for] the legs of a lackey now, or a footman, Who is the surbater of a clerk currant, A TALE OF A TUB. 207 And the confounder of his trestles dormant 1 But who have we here, just in the nick ? Hilts, I am neither nick, nor in the nick ; therefore You lie, sir Metaphor. Met. Lie ! how ? Hilts. Lie so, sir. [Strikes up his heels. Met. I lie not yet in my throat. Hilts, Thou liest on the ground. Dost thou know me ? Met. Yes, I did know you too late. Hilts, What is my name, then ? Met. Basket. Hilts. Basket what ? Met. Basket the great Hilts. The great what Met. Lubber I should say, lover, of the 'squire his master. Hilts. Great is my patience, to forbear thee thus, Thou scrape-hill scoundrel, and thou scum of man; Uncivil, orange-tawney-coated clerk! Thou cam'st but half a thing into the world, And wast made up of patches, parings, shreds : Thou, that when last thou wertputout of service, TravelTdst toHamstead-heath on an Ash-We'nes- day, Where thou dist stand six weeks the Jack of Lent, For boys to hurl, three throws a penny, at thee, To make thee a purse : seest thou this bold bright blade ? This sword shall shred thee as small unto the grave, As minced meat for a pye. I'll set thee in earth All, save thy head and thy right-arm at liberty, To keep thy hat off while I question thee What, why, and whither thou wert going now, With a face ready to break out with business ? And tell me truly, lest I dash't in pieces. 208 A TALE OF A TUB. Met. Then, Basket, put thy smiter up, and hear; I dare not tell the truth to a drawn sword. Hilts. Tis sheath'd ; stand up, speak without fear or wit. Met. [rises.] I know not what they mean ; but constable Turfe Sends here his key for monies in his cupboard, Which he must pay the captain that was robb'd This morning. Smell you nothing r Hilts. No, not I ; Thy breeches yet are honest. Met. As my mouth. Do you not smell a rat? I tell you truth, I think all's knavery ; for the canon whisper'd Me in the ear, when Turfe had gi'n me his key, By the same token to bring mistress Awdrey, As sent for thither; and to say, John Clay Is found, which is indeed to get the wench Forth for my master, who is to be married When she comes there : the canon has his rules Read}', and all there, to dispatch the matter. Tub. [comes forward.] Now, on my life, this is the canon's plot. Miles, I have heard all thy discourse to Basket. Wilt thou be true, and I'll reward thee well, To make me happy in my mistress Awdrey ? Met. Your worship shall dispose of Metaphor, Through all his parts, e'en from the sole of the head To the crown of the foot, to manage of your service. Tub. Then do thy message to the mistress Turfe, Tell her thy token, bring the money hither, And likewise take young Awdrey to thy charge ; Which done, here, Metaphor, we will attend, And intercept thee : and for thy reward A TALE OF A TUB. 209 You two shall share the money, I the maid ; If any take offence, I'll make all good. Met. But shall I have half the money, sir. in faith ? Tub. Ay, on my 'squireship shalt thou, and my land. Met. Then, if I make not, sir, the cleanliest 'scuse To get her hither, and be then as careful To keep her for you, as 'twere for myself, Down on your knees, and pray that honest Mites May break his neck ere he get o'er two stiles. Tub. Make haste, then ; we will wait here thy return. [Exit Met. This luck unlook'd for hath reviv'd my hopes, Which were opprest with a dark melancholy : In happy time we linger'd on the way, To meet these summons of a better sound, Which are the essence of my soul's content. Hilts. This heartless fellow, shame to serving- men, Stain of all liveries, what fear makes him do ! How sordid, wretched and unworthy things ! Betray his master's secreis, ope the closet Of his devices, force the foolish justice Make way for your love, plotting of his own ; Like him that digs a trap to catch another, And falls into't himself! Tub. So would I have it, And hope 'twill prove a jest to twit thejustice with. Hilts. But that this poor white-liver'd rogue should do it, And merelv out of fear ! Tub. And hope of money, Hilts : A valiant man will nibble at that bait. Hilts. Who, but a fool, will refuse money proflfer'd ? Tub. And sent by so good chance? Pray heaven he speed. VOL. VI. P 210 A TALE OF A TUB. Hilts. If he come empty-handed, let him count To go back empty headed ; I'll not leave him So much of brain in's pate, with pepper and vinegar, To be serv'd in for sauce to a calPs head. Tub Thou [wilt] serve him rightly, Hilts. Hilts, I'll seal [to] as much With my hand, as I dare say now with my tongue. But if you get the lass from Dargison,* What will you do with her? Tub. We'll think of that When once we have her in possession, governor. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Another Part of the Same. Enter Puppy, and Metaphor with Awdrey. Pup. You see we trust you, master Metaphor, With mistress Awdrey ; pray you, use her well, As a gentlewoman should be used. For my part, I do incline a little to the serving-man ; 4 But if you get the lass from Dargison.] The meaning of this last term is unknown to me; whether it be a proper name, taken from some romance, and how applied, I know not; or whether a corruption from Kentish Town, which is not improbable. Whal. Whallcy's derivation of Dargison from Kentish. town, (which he thinks so probable,) would have done honour toD'ogeScriben, in the interloping scene. In some childish book of knight-er- rantry, which I formerly read, but which I cannot now call to mind, there is a dwarf of this name (Dargison) who accompanies a lady of great beauty and virtue through many perilous adven- tures, as her guard and guide. I have no great faith in the iden- tity of this personage, but he may serve till a better is found. Perhaps the reader may think that this has already been done. " A mery ballet of the hathorne tre. To be song after Donkin Dargeson," " This tune (saye Ritson) whatever it was, appears to have been in use till alter the Restoration. In a volume of old ballads in the possession of J. Baynes, Esq. is one to the tune of Dargeson." Antient Songs, p. 146. A TALE OF A TUB. 211 We have been of a coat 1 had one like yours; Till it did play me such a sleeveless errand, As I had nothing where to put mine arms in, And then I threw it off. Pray you go before her, Serving-man like, and see that your nose drop not. As for example, you shall see me : mark, How I go afore her ! so do you, sweet Miles. She for her own part, is a woman cares not What man can do unto her in the way Of honesty and good manners: so farewell, Fair mistress Awdrey ; farewell, master Miles. I have brought you thus far onward o' your way: I must go back now to make clean the rooms, Where my good lady has been. Pray you com- mend me To bridegroom Clay, and bid him bear up stiff. Met. Thank you, good Hannibal Puppy ; I shall fit The leg of your commands with the strait buskins Of dispatch presently. Pup. Farewell, fine Metaphor. [Exit. . Met. Come, gentle mistress, will you please to walk ? Aivd. I love not to be led ; I would go alone. Met. Let not the mouse of my good meaning, lady, Be snapp'd up in the trap of your suspicion, To lose the tail there, either of her truth, Or swallow'd by the cat of misconstruction. Awd. You are too finical for me ; speak plain, sir. Enter Tub and Hilts. Tub. Welcome again, my Awdrey, welcome, love ! You shall with me ; in faith deny me not : I cannot brook the second hazard, mistress. Awd. Forbear, squire Tub, as mine own mother says, P2 212 A TALE OF A TUB. I am not for your mowing : you'll be flown Ere I be fledge. Hilts. Hast thou the money, Miles ? Met. Here are two bags, there's fifty pound in each. Tub. Nay, Awdrey, I possess you for this time Sirs, take that coin between you, and divide it. My pretty sweeting, give me now the leave To challenge love and marriage at your hands. Awd. Now, out upon you, are you not asham'd ! What will my lady say ? In faith, I think She was at our house, and I think she ask'd for you ; And I think she hit me in the teeth with you, I thank her ladyship : and I think she means Not to go hence till she has found you. Tub. How say you ! Was then my lady mother at your house ? Let's have a word aside. Awd. Yes, twenty words. [They walk aside. Enter lady Tub and Pol Martin. Lady T. Tis strange, a motion, but I know not what, Comes in my mind, to leave the way to Totten, And turn to Kentish Town again my journey And see! my son, Pol Martin, with his Awdrey ! Erewhile we left her at her father's house, And hath he thence removed her in such haste ! What shall I do, shall I speak fair, or chide ? Pol. Madam, your worthy son with duteous care Can govern his affections ; rather then, Break off their conference some other way, Pretending ignorance of what you know. Tub. An this be all, fair Awdrey, I am thine. Lady T. [comes jorward.~\ Mine you were once, though scarcely now your own. A TALE OF A TUB. 213 Hilts. 'Slid, my lady, my lady ! Met. Is this my lady bright? [Exit. Tub. Madam, you took me now a little tardy. Lady T. At prayers I think you were : what, so devout Of late, that you will shrive you to all confessors You meet by chance ! come, go with me, good squire, And leave your linen : I have now a business, And of importance, to impart unto you. Tub. Madam, I pray you, spare me but an hour ; Please you to walk before, I follow you. Lady T. It must be now, my business lies this way. Tub. Will not an hour hence, madam, excuse me? Lady T. 'Squire, these excuses argue more your guilt. You have some new device now to project, Which the poor tileman scarce will thank you for. What ! will you go? Tub. I have ta'en a charge upon me, To see this maid conducted to her father, Who, with the canon Hugh, stays her atPancras, To see her married to the same John Clay. Lady T. 'Tis very well ; but, 'squire, take you no care, I'll send Pol Martin with her for that office : You shall along with me; it is decreed. Tub. I have a little business with a friend, madam. Lady T. That friend shall stay for you, or you for him. Pol Martin, take the maiden to your care ; Commend me to her father. Tub. I will follow you. Lady T. Tut, tell not me of following. 214 A TALE OF A TUB. Tub. I'll but speak A word. Lady T. No whispering ; you forget yourself, And make your love too palpable: a squire, And think so meanly ! fall upon a cowshard ! You know my mind. Come, I will to Turfe's house, And see for Dido and our Valentine. Pol Martin, look to your charge, I'll look to mine. [Exeunt Lady T. y Tub, and Hilts. Pol. I smile to think, after so many proffers This maid hath had, she now should fall to me, That I should have her in my custody ! 'Twere hut a mad trick to make the essay, And jump a match with her immediately. She's fair and handsome, and she's rich enough ; Both time and place minister fair occasion: Haveatitthen. [Aside.] Fair lady, can you lover* Awd. No, sir; what's that? Pol. A toy which women use. Awd. If it be a toy, it's good to play withal. Pol. We will not stand discoursing of the toy ; The way is short, please you to prove it, mistress. Awd. If you do mean to stand so long upon it, I pray you let me give it a short cut, sir. Pol. It's thus, fair maid : are you disposed to marry ? Awd. You are disposed to ask. Pol. Are you to grant r Awd. Nay, now I see you are disposed indeed. Pol. I see the wench wants but a little wit/ 6 Can you lovef] i. e. know you lore ? so, at least, Am drey understands it. 7 I see the wench wants but a little wit.~] Awdrey shews no want of wit ; hut a little pretty perversity. Pol uses disposed for in- clined, and Awdrey persists in taking it in the old sense ; i. c. for jesting, or merriment. A TALE OF A TUB. 215 And that defect her wealth may well supply : In plain terms, tell me, will you have me, Awdrey ? Awd. In as plain terms, I tell you who would have me. , John Clay would have me, but he hath too hard hands. I like not him ; besides, he is a thief. And justice Bramble, he would fain have catch d But the young 'squire, he, rather than his life, Would have me yet ; and make me a lady, he says, And be my knight to do me true knight's service, Before his lady mother. Can you make me A lady, would I have you? Pol. I can give you A silken gown and a rich petticoat, And a French hood. All fools love to be brave : I find her humour, and I will pursue it. [Aside. Exeunt. SCENE V. Kentish Town. Enter lady Tub, dame Turfe, souireTw, and Hilts. Lady T. And, as I told thee, she was inter- By theWiire, here, my son, and this bold ruffian, His man, who safely would have carried her Unto her father, and the canon Hugh ; But for more care of the security, Mv huisher hath her now in his grave charge. Dame T. Now on my faith and holydom, we are Beholden to your worship. She's a girl, A foolish girl, and soon may tempted be ; 216 A TALE OF A TUB. But if this day pass well once o'er her head, I'll wish her trust to herself: for I have heen A very mother to her, though I say it. Tub. Madam, 'tis late, and Pancridge is in your way ; I think your ladyship forgets yourself. Lady T Your mind runs much on Pancridge. Well, young squire, The black ox never trod yet on your foot; 1 hese idle phanVsies will forsake you one day. Come, mistress Turfe will you go take a walk Over the fields to Pancridge, to your husband ? Dame T. Madam, I had been there an hour ago, But that I waited on my man, Ball Puppy. What, Ball, 1 say! I think the idle slouch Be fallen asleep in the barn, he stays so long. Enter Puppy hastily from the barn. Pup Satfin, in the name of velvet-sattin, dame ! The devil, O the devil is in the barn ! Help, help ! a legion [of] spirits, [a] legion, Is in the barn ! in every straw a devil ! Dame T. Why dost thou bawl so, Puppy ? speak, what ails thee r Pup. My name's Ball Puppy, I have seen the devil Among the straw. O for a cross ! a collop Of friar Bacon, or a conjuring stick Of doctor Faustus ! spirits are in the barn. Tub. How, spirits in the barn ! Basket, go see. Hilts. Sir, an you were my master ten times over, And 'squire to boot ; I know, and you shall par- don me : Send me 'mong devils ! I zee you love me not. Hell be at their game ; I will not trouble them. A TALE OF A TUB. 217 Tub. Go see; I warrant thee there's no such matter. Hilts. An they were giants, 'twere another matter, But devils ! no, if I he torn in pieces, What is your warrant worth ? I'll see the fiend Set fire o' the barn, ere I come there. Dame T. Now all zaints bless us, and if he be there, He is an ugly spright, I warrant. Pup. As ever Held flesh-hook, dame, or handled fire-fork rather. They have put me in a sweet pickle, dame ; But that my lady Valentine smells of musk, I should be ashamed to press into this presence. Lady T. Basket, I pray thee see what is the miracle. Tub. Come, go with me; I'll lead. Why stand'st thou, man ? Hilts. Cocks precious, master, you are not mad indeed. You will not go to hell before your time? Tub. Why art thou thus afraid? Hilts. No, not afraid ? But, by your leave, I'll come no nearer the barn. Dame T. Puppy, wilt thou go with me? Pup. How, go with you ! Whither, into the barn ? to whom, the devil? Or to do what there ? to be torn amongst 'urn ! Stay for my master, the high constable, Or In-and-in the headborough ; let them go Into the harn with warrant, seize the fiend, And set him in the stocks for his ill rule: 'Tis not for me that am but flesh and blood, To meddle with 'un; vor I cannot, nor I wu' not. Lady T. 1 pray thee, Tripoly, look what is the matter. 218 A TALE OF A TUB, Tub. That shall I, madam. [Goes into the barn. Hilts. Heaven protect my master ! I tremble every joint till he be back. Pup. Now, now, even now, they are tearing him in pieces ; Now are they tossing of his legs and arms, Like loggets at a pear-tree ; ' I'll to the hole, Peep in, and look whether he lives or dies. Hilts. I would not be in my master's coat for thousands. Pup. Then pluck it off, and turn thyself away. the devil, the devil, the devil ! Hilts. Where, man, where ? Dame T. Alas, that ever we were born J So near too? Pup. The 'squire hath him in Iris hand, and leads him Out by the collar. Re-enter Tub, dragging in Clay. Dame T. O this is John Clay. Lady T. John Clay at Pancras, is there to be married. Tub. This was the spirit revelFd in the barn. Pup. The devil he was ! was this he was crawling Among the wheat-straw ? had it been the barley, 1 should have ta'en him for the devil in drink; The spirit of the bride-ale : but poor John, Tame John of Clay, that sticks about the bung- hole Like loggets at a pear- tree] Loggets (a diminutive of log,) are sticks or small pieces of wood which the country people throw at their apple and pear trees to beat down the fruit that cannot otherwise be reached. There is a deal of grave trifling on the meaning of this common word, in the notes on Shak- speare. A TALE OF A TUB. 219 Hilts. If this be all your devil, I would take In hand to conjure him : but hell take me, If e'er I come in a right devil's walk, If I can keep me out on't. Tub. Well meant, Hilts. [Exit, Lady T. But how came Clay thus hid here in the straw, When news was brought to you all he was at Pancridge, And you believed it ? Dame T. Justice Bramble's man Told me so, madam ; and by that same token, And other things, he had away my daughter, And two seal'd bags of money. Lady T. Where's the squire, Is he gone hence? Dame T. He was here, madam, but now. Clay. Is the hue and cry past by ? Pup. Ay, ay, John Clay. Clay. And am I out of danger to be hang'd ? Pup. Hang'd, John ! yes, sure ; unless, as with the proverb, You mean to make the choice of your own gallows. Clay. Nay, then all's well : hearing your news, Ball Puppy, You brought from Paddington, I e'en stole home here, And thought to hide me in the barn e'er since. Pup. O wonderful ! and news was brought us here, You were at Pancridge, ready to be married. Clay. No, faith, I ne'er was further than the barn. Dame T. Haste, Puppy, call forth mistress Dido Wispe, My lady's gentlewoman, to her lady ; And call yourself forth, and a couple of maids, To wait upon me : we are all undone, 520 A TALE OF A TUB. My lady is undone, her fine young son, The 'squire, is got away. Lady T. Haste, haste, good Valentine. Dame T. And you, John Clay, you are undone too ! all ! " My husband is undone by a true key, But a false token ; and myselPs undone, By parting with my daughter, who'll be married To somebody that she should not, if we haste not. [Exeunt, ACT V. SCENE I. The Fields near Kentish Town. Enter squire Tub and Pol Martjn. Tub. I pray thee, good Pol Martin, shew thy diligence, And faith in both ; get her, but so disguised The canon may not know her, and leave me To plot the rest : I will expect thee here. [Exit. Pol. You shall, 'squire. I'll perform it with all care, If all my lady's wardrobe will disguise her. Come, mistress Awdrey. Enter Awdrey. Awd. Is the 'squire gone ? Pol. He'll meet us by and by, where he ap- pointed; You shall be brave anon, as none shall know you. [Exeunt. A TALE OF A TUB. 221 SCENE II. Kentish Town. Enter Clench, Medlay, Pajj, and Scriben - . Clench. I wonder where the queen's high con- stable is. I vear they ha' made 'un away. Med. No zure ; the justice Dare not conzent to that: he'll zee 'un forth- coming. Pan. He must, vor we can all take corpulent oath We zaw 'un go in there. Scri. Ay, upon record : The clock dropt twelve at Ma ri bone, Med. You are right, D'oge, Zet down to a minute ; now 'tis a' most vowre. Clench. Here comes 'squire Tub. Scri. And's governor, master Basket Enter Tub and Hilts. Hilts ; do you know 'un? a valiant wise fellow, As tall a man on his hands as goes on veet ! Bless you, mass' Basket. Hilts. Thank vou, good D'ogc. Tub. Who's that ? Hilts. D'oge Scriben the great writer, sir, of Chalcot. Tub. And who the rest ? Hilts, The wisest heads o' the hundred. Medlay the joiner, headhorough of Islington, 222 A TALE OF A TUB. Pan of Belsise, and Clench the leach of Hamstead, The high constable's counsel here of Finsbury. Tub. Present me to them, Hilts, 'squire Tub of Totten. Hilts. Wise men of Finsbury, make place for a 'squire, I bring to your acquaintance, Tub of Totten. 'Squire Tub, my master, loves all men of virtue, And longs, as one would zay, till he be one o' you. Clench. His worship's welcum to our company: Would it were wiser for 'un ! Pan. Here be some on us Are call'd the witty men over a hundred. Scri. And zome a thousand, when the muster- day comes. Tub. I long, as my man Hilts said, and my governor, To be adopt in your society. Can any man make a masque here in this com- pany ? Pan. A masque ! -what's that ? Scri. A mumming or a shew, With vizards and fine clothes. Clench. A disguise, neighbour, Is the true word : There stands the man can do't, sir ; Medlay the joiner, In-and-in of Islington, The only man at a disguise in Middlesex. Tub. But who shall write it? Hilts. Scriben, the great writer. Scri. He'll do't alone, sir ; he will join with no man, Though he be a joiner, in design he calls it, He must be sole inventer. In-and-in Draws with no other in's project, he will tell you, A TALE OF A TUB. 223 It cannot else be feazible, or conduce : Those are his ruling words ; pleaze you to hear 'un? Tub, Yes ; master In-and-in, I have heard of you. Med. I can do nothing, I. Clench. He can do all, sir. Med. They'll tell you so. Tub. I'd have a toy presented, A Tale of a Tub, a story of myself, You can express a Tub ? Med. If it conduce To the design, whate'er is feasible: I can express a wash-house, if need be, With a whole pedigree of Tubs. Tub, No, one Will be enough to note our name and family ; "Squire Tub of Totten, and to shew my adventures This very day. I'd have it in Tub's Hall, At Totten-Court, my lady mother's house ; My house indeed, for I am heir to it. Med. If I might see the place, and had sur- vey'd it, I could say more : for all invention, sir, Comes by degrees, and on the view of nature; A world of things concur to the design, Which makes it feasible, if art conduce. Tub. You say well, witty master In-and-in. How long have you studied ingine ? Med. Since I first Join'd, or did in-lay in wit, some forty year. Tub. A pretty time ! Basket, go you and wait On master In-and-in to Totten-Court, And all the other wise masters ; shew them the hall, And taste the language of the buttery to them. Let them see all the tubs about the house, 224 A TALE OF A TUB. That can raise matter, till I come which shall be Within an hour at least. Clench. It will be glorious, If In-and-in will undertake it, sir: He has a monstrous Medlay-wit of his own. Tub. Spare for no cost, either in boards or hoops, To architect your tub : have you ne'er a cooper,* At London, calPd Vitruvius? send for him ; Or old John Heywood, call him to you, to help. Scri. He scorns the motion, trust to him alone. [Exeunt all but Tub, Enter lady Tub, dame Turfe, Clay, Puppy, and Wispe. Lady T. O, here's the 'squire ! you slipp'd us finely, son. These manners to your mother will commend you ; But in another age, not this : well, Tripoly, Your father, good sir Peter, rest his bones, Would not have done this ; where's my huisher, Martin, And your fair mistress Awdrey ? Tub. I not see them, No creature but the four wise masters here, Of Finsbury hundred, came to cry their constable, Who, they do say, is lost. Dame T. My husband lost, ' Have you ne'er a cooper At London, call'd Vitruvius ?] Here Vitruvius would 9eem to be a different person from Medlay ; and yet it was the intro- duction of this name which gave offence. Jones seems to hare appropriated as many names to himself as Hercules. Old John Heywood, to whom the poet pays an oblique compliment, is the epigrammatist, whose rude wit contributed to unbend the fero- cious front of Henry VIII. He was among the earliest of our dramatic writers, and is intitled to some commendation. A TALE OF A TUB. 225 And my fond daughter lost, I fear me too ! Where is your gentleman, madam? poorJohnClay, Thou hast lost thy Awdrey. Clay. I have lost my wits, My little wits, good mother; I am distracted. Pup. And I have lost my mistress, Dido Wispe, Who frowns upon her Puppy, Hannibal. Loss, loss on every side ! a public loss ! Loss of my master ! loss of his daughter ! loss Of favour, friends, my mistress! loss of all ! Enter Turfe and Preamble. Pre. What cry is this ? Turfe. My man speaks of some loss. Pup. My master's found ! good luck, an't be thy will, Light on us all. Dame T. O husband, are you alive ! They said you were lost. Turfe. Where's justice Bran ble's clerk? Had he the money that I sent for? Dame T. Yes, Two hours ago, two fifty pounds in silver, And Awdrey too. Turfe. Why Awdrey ? who sent for her ? Dame T. You, master Turfe, the fellow said. Turfe. He lied. I am cOzen'd, robb'd, undone : your man's a thief, And run away with my daughter, master Bramble, And with my money. Lady T. Neighbour Turfe, have patience; I can assure you that your daughter's safe, But for the monies, I know nothing of. Turfe. My money is my daughter, and my daughter She is my money, madam. VOL. VI. Q 226 A TALE OF A TUB. Pre. I do wonder Your ladyship comes to know any thing In these affairs. Lady T. Yes, justice Preamble, I met the maiden in the fields by chance, In the 'squire's company, my son : how he Lighted upon her, himself best can tell. Tub. I intercepted her as coming hither, To her father, who sent for her by Miles Metaphor, Justice Preamble's clerk And had your ladyship Not hinder'd it, I had paid fine master justice For his young warrant, and new pursuivant, He serv'd it by this morning. Pre. Know you that, sir ? Lady T. You told me, 'squire, a quite other tale, But I believed you not ; which made me send Awdrey another way by my Pol Martin, And take my journey back to Kentish Town, Where we found John Clay hidden in the barn, To scape the hue and cry ; and here he is. Turfe. John Clay agen! nay, then set cock- a-hoop : * I have lost no daughter, nor no money, justice. John Clay shall pay ; I'll look to you now, John. Vaith, out it must, as good at night as morning. I am e'en as vull as a piper's bag with joy, Or a great gun upon carnation-day. I could weep lions' tears to see you, John : 'Tis but two vifty pounds I have ventured for you, But now 1 have you, you shall pay whole hundred. 1 Nay, then set cock-a-hoop.] A phrase denoting the excess of mirth and jollity ; but of doubtful derivation. The received opinion seems to be that it had birth from the practice of laying, on extraordinary occasions of festivity, the cock (or spigot) on the hoop of the barrel, and letting the ale ilow without inter- mission. I suspect that it had a more dignified origin. A TALE OF A TUB. 227 Run from your burroughs, son! faith, e'en be hang'd. An you once earth yourself, John, in the barn, I have no daughter vor you : who did verret'un ? Dame T. My lady's son, the 'squire here, vetch'd 'un out. Puppy had put us all in such a vrighr, We thought the devil was in the barn; and nobody Durst venture on 'un. Turfe. I am now resolv'd Who shall have my daughter. Dame T. Who ? Turfe. He best deserves her. Here comes the vicar. Enter sir Hugh. Canon Hugh, we have vound John Clay agen ! the matter's all come round. Hugh. Is Metaphor return'd yet ? [Aside to Pre. Pre. All is turn'd Here to confusion, we have lost our plot ; I fear my man is run way with the money, And Clay is found, in whom old Turfe is sure To save his stake. Hugh. What shall we do then, justice? Pre. The bride was met in the young 'squire's hands. Hugh. And what's become of her? Pre. None here can tell. Tub. Was not my mother's man, Pol Martin, with you, And a strange gentlewoman in his company, Of late here, canon ? Hugh. Yes, and I dispatch'd them. Tub. Dispatch'd them ! how do you mean? Q2 228 A TALE OF A TUB. Hugh. Why, married them, As they desired, but now. Tub. And do you know What you have done, sir Hugh ? Hugh. No harm, I hope. Tub. You have ended all the quarrel : Awdrey is married. Lady T Married ! to whom ? Turfe. My daughter Awdrey married, And she not know of it ! Dame T. Nor her father or mother ! Lady T. Whom hath she married ? Tub. Your Pol Martin, madam ; A groom was never dreamt of. Turfe. Is he a man ? Lady T. That he is, Turfe, aud a gentleman I have made him. Dame T. Nay, an he be a gentleman, let her shift. Hugh. She was so brave, I knew her not, I swear ; And yet I married her by her own name: But she was so disguised, so lady-like, I think she did not know herself the while ! I married them as a mere pair of strangers, And they gave out themselves for such. Lady T. I wish them Much joy, as they have given me heart's ease. Tub. Then, madam, I'll entreat you now remit Your jealousy of me ; and please to take All this good company home with you to supper: We'll have a merry night of it, and laugh. Lady T. A right good motion, 'squire, which I yield to ; And thank them to accept it. Neighbour Turfe, I'll have you merry, and your wife; and you, A TALE OF A TUB. 229 Sir Hugh, be pardon'd this your happy error, By justice Preamble, your friend and patron. Pre. If the young 'squire can pardon it, I do. {Exeunt all but Puppy, IVispe, and Hugh. Pup. Stay, my dear Dido ; and, good vicar Hugh, We have a business with you ; in short, this: If you dare knit another pair of strangers, Dido of Carthage, and her countryman, Stout Hannibal stands to't. Ihaveask'd consent, And she hath granted. Hugh. But saith Dido so ? IVispe. From what Ball Hanny hath said I dare not go. Hugh. Come in then, I'll dispatch you : a good supper Would not be lost, good company, good discourse; But above all, where wit hath any source. [E*veu?7t. SCENE III. Tot ten-Court. Before the House. Enter Pol Martin, Awdrey, Tub, lady Tub, Preamble, Turfe, dame Turfe, and Clay. Pol. After the hoping of your pardon, madam, For many faults committed, here my wife And I do stand expecting your mild doom. Lady T. I wish thee joy, Pol Martin ; and thy wife As much, mistress Pol Martin. Thou hast trick'd her Up very fine, methinks. 230 A TALE OF A TUB. Pol. For that I made Bold with your ladyship's wardrobe, but have trespass'd Within the limits of your leave 1 hope. Lady T. I give her what she wears ; I know all women Love to be fine : thou hast deserv'd it of me ; I am extiemely pleased with thy good fortune. Welcome, good justice Preamble; and, Turfe, Look merrily on your daughter: she has married A gentleman. Turfe, So methinks. I dare not touch her, She \i so fine ; yet I will say, God bless her! Dame T. And I too, my fine daughter ! I could love her Now twice as well as if Clay had her. Tub, Come, come, my mother is pleased ; I pardon all : Pol Martin, in and wait upon my lady. Welcome, good guests ! see supper be serv'd in, With all the plenty of the house and worship. I must confer with master In-and In About some alterations in my masque : Send Hilts out to me ; bid him bring the council Of Finsbury hither. {Exeunt all but Tub.] I'll have such a night Shall make the name of Totten-Court immortal, And be recorded to posterity. 2 * Here the Tale of a Tub e.ided, when it was presented on thesta<;e, and before tiie court. It appears from the memorandums of sir Henry Herbert, (hat Inigo Jones took exception at the introduction of the masque, which he considered, and, as it should seem, with justice, as a reflection on himsi.lt ; and that he had interest enough with the chamberlain to procure its re- moval, inigo and Jonson were now at enmity, and the motive is sufficiently apparent from this ridiculous interlude, in which the former is charged with assuming more than his due share of A TALE OF A TUB. 231 Enter Med lay, Clench, Pan, and Scriben. master In-and-in ! what have you done ? Med. Survey'd the place, sir, and design'd the ground, Or stand -still of the work : and this it is. First, I have fixed in the earth a tub, And an old tub, like a salt-petre tub, Preluding by your father's name, sir Peter, And the antiquity of your house and family, Original from salt-petre. Tub. Good, i'faitn, You have shewn reading and antiquity here, sir. Med. I have a little knowledge in design, Which I can vary, sir, to infinite Tub. Ad itifinitum, sir, you mean. Med. I do, 1 stand not on my Latin ; I'll invent, But I must be alone then, join'd with no man : This we do call the stand-still of our work. Tub. Who are those We you now join'd to yourself? Med. I mean myself still in the plural number. And out of this we raise Our Tale of a Tub. Tub. No, master In-and-in, My Tale of a Tub, By your leave ; I am Tub, the Tale's of me, And my adventures ! I am 'squire Tub, Subjectumfabulas. Med. But I the author. the merit of the poetical productions which he was employed to adorn. It is to be regretted that those who had the care of Jonson's papers, or rather the possession, (for care of them they had not,) should hare preserved what the poet himself had noto- riously thrown aside, and perpetuated the memory of this foolish dispute. 232 A TALE OF A TUB. Tub. The workman, sir, the artificer; I grant you. So Skelton-laureat was of Elinour Ramming, But she the subject of the rout and tunning.* Cltnch He has put you to it, neighbour In- and-in. Pan. Do not dispute with him ; he still will win That pays tor all. Sen Are you revised o' that? A man may have wit, and yet put off his hat. Med Now, sir, this Tub I will have capt with paper, A fine oil'd lanthorn paper that we use. Pan. Yes, every barber, every cutler has it. Mtd. Which in it doth contain the light to the business ; And shall with the very vapour of the candle Drive all the motions of our matter about, As we present them. For example, first, The worshipful lady Tub s> Tub. Right worshipful, I pray you, I am worshipful myself. Med. Your 'squireship's mother passeth by (her huisher, Master Pol Martin, bare-headed before her) Iu her velvet gown. Tub. But how shall the spectators, As it might be I, or Hilts, know 'tis my mother, Or that Pol Martin, there, that walks before her? Med. O we do nothing, if we clear not that. Clench. You have seen none of his works, sir! Pan. All the postures Of the train'd bands of the country. Scri. All their colours. * Alluding to that old piece of ribaldry, " The tunnying of Elynour Rumming (the ale-wife of Sothray) : Per Skelton laureate." A TALE OF A TUB. 233 Pan. And all their captains. Clench. All the cries of the city, And all the trades in their habits. Stri He has His whistle of command, seat of authority, And virge to interpret, tipt with silver, sir; You know not him. Tub. Well, I will leave all to him. Med. Give me the brief of your subject. 3 Leave the whole State of the thing to me. Enter Hilts. Hilts. Supper is ready, sir, My lady calls for you. Tub. I'll send it you in writing Med. Sir, I will render feasible and facile What you expect. Tub. Hilts, be it your care, To see the wise of Finsbury made welcome: Let them want nothing. Is old Rosin sent for? Hilts. He's come within. [Edit Tub. Scri. Lord, what a world of business The 'squire dispatches ! Med. He's a learned man : I think there are but vew o' the inns of court, Or the inns of chancery like him. Clench. Care to fit 'un then. [Exeunt. Give me the brief of your subject.!^ i. e. the abstract. So the word is used by Shakspeare and others : *' There is a brief how many sports are ripe, Make choice," &c. Midsummer Night's Dream. $34 A TALE OF A TUB. SCENE IV. The Same. A Room in the House. Enter Black Jack and Hilts. Jack. Yonder's another wedding, master Basket, Brought in by vicar Hugh. Hilts. What are they, Jack ? Jack. The high constable's man, Ball Hanny, and mistress Wispe, Our lady's woman. Hilts. And are the table merry ? Jack. There's a young tilemaker makes 'em all laugh ; He will not eat his meat, but cries at the board, He shall be hang'd. Hilts. He has lost his wench already : As good be hang'd. Jack. Was she that is Pol Martin, Our fellow's mistress, wench to that sneak-John? Hilts. I'faith, Black Jack, he should have been her bridegroom : But I must go to wait on my wise masters. Jack, you shall wait on me, and see the masque anon; I am half lord-chamberlain in my master's absence. Jack. Shall we have a masque? who makes it? Hilts. In-and-in, The maker of Islington : come, go with me To the sage sentences of Finsbury. [Exeunt. A TALE OF A TUB. 235 SCENE V. Another Room in the Same, with a Curtain drawn across it. Enter Tub, folloxved by tzvo Grooms, with chairs, 8fc. and Rosin and his two Boys. 1 Groom. Come, give us in the great chair for my lady, And set it there ; and this for justice Bramble. 2 Groom. This for the 'squire my master, on the right-hand. 1 Groom. And this for the high-constable. 2 Groom. This his wife. 1 Groom. Then for the bride and bridegroom here, Pol Martin. 2 Groom And She Pol Martin at my lady's feet. 1 Groom. Right. 2 Groom. And beside them master Hannibal Puppy. 1 Groom. And his She-Puppy, mistress VVispe that was : Here's all are in the note. 2 Groom. No, master vicar ; The petty canon Hugh. 1 Groom. And cast-by Clay: There they are all. Tub. Then cry a hall! a hall J* Tis merry in Tottenham -hall, when beards wag all: ' + A hall ! a hall!] The usual exclamation at masques, &c. to make room for the dancers. The next line is borrowed from the old song, " '77a merry J' &c. which is chanted with such glee by justice Silence. 236 A TALE OF A TUB. Come, father Rosin, with your fiddle now, And two tall toters ; flourish to the masque. [Loud music. Enter Preamble lady Tub, Turfe, dame Turfe, Pol Martin, Aworey, Puppy, Wispe, Hugh, Clay; all take their seats. H [ lts waits on the by. Lady T. Neighbours all, welcome ! Now doth Totten-hall Shew like a court; and hence shall firstbe call'dso. Your witty short confession, master vicar, \\ ithin, hath been the prologue, and hath open'd M ch to my son's device, his Tale of a Tub. Tub. Let my masque shew itself, and In-and-in, The architect, appear: I hear the whistle. Hilts. Peace ! Med lay appears above the curtain. Med. Thus rise 1 first in my light linen breeches, To run the meaning over in short speeches. Here is a Tub, a Tub cf Tott en-Court, An ancient Tub has call' d you to this sport : His father was a knight, the rich sir Peter, Who got his wealth by a Tub, and by salt-pet re ; And left all to his lady Tub, the mother Oj this bold 'squire Tub, and to no other. JSiow of this Tub and's deeds, not done in ale, Observe, and you shall see the very Tale. [He draws the curtain, and discovers the top of the Tub. The First Motion. 5 Med. Here canon Hugh first brings to Totten-hall The high constable's council, tells the 'squire all ; * The jirst motion.] *The puppets were probably drest or coloured so as to resemble their respective originals: from the A TALE OF A TUB, 237 Which, though discovered, give the devil his due, The wise of ' Fimbury do still pursue. Then with the justice doth he counterplot. And his clerk Metaphor, to cut that knot ; Whilst lady Tub, in her sad velvet gown, Missing her son, doth seek him up and down. Tub. With her Pol Martin bare before her. Med. Yes, I have eaprest it here in figure, and Mis- tress JVispe, her woman, holding up her train. Tub. In the next page report your second strain. The Second Motion. Med. Here the high constable and sages walk To church ; the dame, the daughter, bride-maids talk Of wedding-business ; till a fellow in comes, Relates the robbery of one captain Thums : Chargeih the bridegroom with it, troubles all, And gets the bride ; who in the hands doth fall Of the bold 'squire ; but thence soon is ta'cn By the sly justice and his clerk prof ane, description of the show given in a former page, it seems to have been a rude imitation of the Ombres Chinoises, in which the/- toccini were represented on sliders of oiled paper. Mcdlay must be understood to play them, in conformity with the description. It argues somewhat of a querulous and waspish disposition in Inigo Jones to raise so loud an outcry (for he had appealed to the court) on this occasion. For aught that appears, he might have passed unnoticed, and Medlay and his Motions been trusted to the patience of the usual audience, without any essential injury to his reputation. If Jonson really had any object in view in this dull repetition, it could only be that of turning the whole play to a jest. A jest, iiideed, it is, made up, as he says himself, " of old records, antique proverbs," and verbal witicisms on names, &c. From the marginal notes of the old copy, it appears that Father Rosin and his two boys played " a loud strain" between every Motion, and that Basket-Hilts gave them the signal to stop. 258 A TALE OF A TUB. In shape of pursuivant ; which he not long Holds, but betrays all with his trembling tongue : As truth will break out and shezo- Tub. O thou hast made him kneel there in a corner, I see now : there's a simple honour for you, Hilts ! Hilts. Did I not make him to confess all to you ? Tub. True, In-and-in hath done you right, you see Thy third, I pray thee, witty In-and-in. Clench. The 'squire commends 'un; he doth like all well. Pan. He cannot choose : this is gear made to sell. The Third Motion. Med. The careful constable here drooping comes In his deluded search of captain Thums. Puppy brings zvord his daughter s run away With the tall serving-man, he frights groom Clay Out of his wits : Returneth then the 'squire, Mocks all their pains, and gives fame out a liar, For falsely charging Clay, when 'tzvas the plot Of subtle Bramble, who had Awdrey got Into his hand by this winding device. The father makes a rescue in a trice : And with his daughter, like St. George on foot, Comes home triumphing to his dear heart*root, And tells the lady Tub, whom he meets there, Of her son's courtesies, the batchelor, Whose words had made 'em fall the hue and cry. When captain Thums coming to ask him, why He had so done ; he cannot yield him cause But so he runs his neck into the laws. A TALE OF A TUB. >239 The Fourth Motion. Med. The laws, who have a noose to crack his neck, As justice Bramble tells him, who doth peck A hundred pound out of his purse, that comes Like his teeth from him, unto captain Thums. Thums is the vicar in a false disguise ; And employs Metaphor to fetch this prize. Who tells the secret unto Basket Hilts, For fear of beating. This the 'squire quilts Within his cap ; and bids him but purloin The wench for him ; they two shall share the coin. Which the sage lady in her foresaid gown, Breaks off, returning unto Kentish Town, To seek her Wispe ; taking the 'squire along, IV ho finds Clay John, as hidden in straw throng. Hilts. O how am I beholden to the inventor, That u ould not, on record, against me enter, My slackness here to enter in the barn : Well, In-and-in, I see thou canst discern ! Tub. On with your last, and come to a con- clusion. The Fifth Motion. Med. The last is known, and needs but small in- fusion Into your memories, by leaving in These figures as you sit. I, In-and-in, Present you with the show ; first, of a lady Tub, and her son, of whom, this masque here made I. Then bridegroom Pol, and mistress Pol the bride, With the sub-couple, who sit them beside. Tub. That only verse I alter'd for the better, Evqowx, gratia. 2-ii) A TALE OF A TUk. Med. Then justice Bramble, with sir Hugh the canon : And the hide's parents, which I will not stan' on, Or the lost Clay, with the recovered Miles ; Who thus unto his master him reconciles, On the 'squire's xcord, to pay old Turje his club, And so doth end our Tale here of a Tub. \_Exeunt. THE EPILOGUE. By 'Squire Tub. This tale of me, the Tub of Tot ten-Court, A poet first invented for your sport. Wherein the fortune of most empty tubs, Rolling in lute, are shewn ; ana with xvhat rubs We are commonly encou/.tered : when the wit Of the whole hundred so opposeth it. Our petty Canon's jorkcd plot in chief, Sly justice' arts, with the high constable's brief And brag commands ; my lady mother's care, And her Pol Martin's J or tune ; zvith the rare Fate of poor John, thus tumbled in the cask ; Got ln-and-In to give it you in a masque : That you be pleased, who come to see a play, With those that hear, and mark not what we say, W her em the poet's J or tune is, I fear, Still to be early up, but ne'er the near. (i When this play was written or acted, (if it was ever acted) there is nothing that will assist us to determine." This was written beiofc the discovery of sir Henry Herhert's tfficial papers, in which two distinct notices of (his play appear. " Whatever may be icathlock is ready with them on the grounds ; So is his brother Scarlet : now they have found Hi* lair t Hey have him sure within the pound. Mar Away then, when \\\y Robin bids a feast, 'Twtie bin in Marian to defraud a guest [Exeunt Marian and John with the Woodmen, Tuck. And I, the chaplain, here am left to be Steward to-day, and charge you all in fee, To d'on your liveries, see the bower drest, And fit the fine devices tor the feast: You, George, must care to make the bald rick trim, And garland that must crown, or her, or him, Whose flock this year hath brought the earliest lamb. George. Good father Tuck, at your commands 1 am hath four croches on his near horn, and five on his far, you must say he beartth ton, or he is a hart of ten, for you must always make the number even.'* 3 For by his slot, his entries, &c ] These are all terms of the chase, and should be explained. The slot is the print of a stag's foot upon the ground ; entries are places through which deer have lately passed, by which their size is guessed at; frayings are the pillings ol their horns ; and a deer is said to fray her head, when she rubs it against a tree to renew it, or to cause the outward coat of her new horns to fall off; the fewmets arc the dung of a deer. What. Jouson is indebted here to Gascoigne's " Commendation of the noble Arte of Venerie," in which all these u signs of sport" are elaborately described. 256 THE SAD SHEPHERD. To cut the table oat o' the green sword, Or any other service for my lord ; To carve the guests large seats ; and these lain in With turf, as soft and smooth as the mole's skin : And hang the bulled nosegays 'bove their heads, 4 ******** The piper's bank, whereon to sit and play ; And a fair dial to mete out the day. Our master's feast shall want no just delights, His entertainments must have all the rites. Much. Ay, and all choice that plenty can send in : Bread, wine, acates, fowl, feather, fish or fin, For which my father's nets have swept the Trent Enter jEglamour. JEg. And have you found her ? Much. VVhom ? JEg. My drowned love, Earine ! the sweet Earine, The bright and beautiful Earine ! Ha\ e you not heard of my Earine ? Just by your father's mill I think I am right Are not you Much the miller's son ? Much. I am. JEg. And bailiff to brave Robin Hood ? Much. The same. JEg. Close by your father's mills, Earine, Earine was drown'd ! O my Earine ! * And hang the bulled nosegays 'bore their heads.} Bulled, or boiled, signifies swelled, ready to break its inclosure ; the bulled nosegays therefore are nosegays of flowers full blown. Whal. After " heads " a line appears from the context to be wanting ; perhaps it was lost at the press. THE SAD SHEPHERD. 257 Old Maudlin tells me so, and Douce her daugh- ter Have you swept the river, say you, and not found her? Much. For fowl and fish, we have. JEg. O, not for her ! You are goodlv friends ! right charitable men ! XT 1 i XMay, keep your way and leave me ; make your toys, Your tales, your posies, that you talk'd of; all Your entertainments: you not injure me. Only if I may enjoy my cypress wreath, And you will let me weep, 'tis all I ask, Till I be turn'd to water, as was she ! And troth, what less suit can you grant a man? Tuck. His phantasie is hurt, let us now leave him ; The wound is yet too fresh to admit searching. [Edit. JEg. Searching ! where should I search, or on what track ? Can my slow drop of tears, or this dark shade About my brows, enough describe her loss ! Earine ! O my Earine's loss ! No, no, no, no ; this heart will break first. George. How will this sad disaster strike the ears Of bounteous Robin Hood, our gentle master ! Much. How will it mar his mirth, abate his feast ; And strike a horror into every guest ! \ Exeunt George and Much. 2Eg. If I could knft whole clouds about my brows, And weep like Swithin, or those watery signs, The Kids, that rise then, and drown all the flocks Of those rich shepherds, dwelling in this vale; vol. vi. S 258 THE SAD SHEPHERD. Those careless shepherds that did let her drown! Then I did something : or could make old Trent Drunkwith my sorrow, to start out in breaches, To drown their herds, their cattle, and their corn; Break down their mills, their dams, o'erturn their weirs, And see their houses and whole livelihood Wrought into water with her, all were good : I'd kiss the torrent, and those whirls of Trent, That suck'd her in, my sweet Earine ! When they have cast her body on the shore, And it comes up as tainted as themselves, All pale and bloodless, I will love it still, For all that they can do, and make them mad, To see how I will hug it in mine arms ! And hang upon her looks, dwell on her eyes, Feed round about her lips, and eat her kisses, Suck off her drowned flesh ! and where's their malice! Not all their envious sousing can change that. But I will still study some revenge past this [Music of all sorts is heard. I pray you give me leave, for I will study, Though all the bells, pipes, tabors, timburines ring, That you can plant about me ; I will study. Enter Robin Hood, Clarion, Mellipleur, Lionel, Amie, Alken, Tuck, Musicians, $c. Rob. Welcome, bright Clarion, and sweet Mellifleur, The courteous Lionel, fair Amie ; all My friends and neighbours, to the jolly bower Of Robin Hood, and to the green-wood walks i Now that the shearing of your sheep is done, And the wash'd flocks are lighted of their wool, * THE SAD SHEPHERD. 259 The smoother ewes are ready to receive The mounting rams again ; and both do feed, As either promised to increase your breed At eaning-time, and bring you lusty twins: Why should or you or we so much forget The season in ourselves, as not to make Use of our youth and spirits, to awake The nimble horn-pipe, and the timburine, And mix our songs and dances in the wood, And each of us cut down a triumph-bough ?* Such are the rites the youthful June allow. 6 Cla. They were, gay Robin ; but the sourer sort Of shepherds now disclaim in all such sport : And say, our flock the while are poorly fed, When with such vanities the swains are led. Tuck. Would they, wise Clarion, were not hurried more 7 With covetise and rage, when to their store 6 Such are the rites, Scc,~\ The folio reads were by an evident misprint, as appears from the line which immediately follows. 7 Cla. They were, gay Robin, but the sourer sort Of shepherds, now disclaim in all such sport :] The Pu- ritans had a strange aversion to wakes and may-games, which they considered as remains of Paganism ; and the dislike was greatly increased by the indulgence granted to the country- people, in the exercise of their rural sports on holidays. Whal. 7 Tuck. Would they, wise Clarion, were not hurried more, &c] This and the beautiful speeches which follow, are levelled with great force and discrimination, at the Puritans, who about this time began to grow formidable, and display that covetise and rage which soon afterwards laid waste thesheepfold. That " the flock was poorly fed," was, we see, the watchword of the time, and therefore adopted by Milton, who knew better, and must have been actuated by evil passions : " The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly The pastors were changed son after this was written, and it would require more than the prejudice and intrepidity of this S2 260 THE SAD SHEPHERD. They add the poor man's yeanling, and dare sell Both fleece and carcass, not gi'ing him the fell J great man to affirm, that the sheep were better tended, or better fed. To drop the metaphor, it may be said without fear of con- tradiction, that the church of England at that period, was sup- plied with a ministry of as much wisdom, learning, and true piety as ever adorned this or any other country since the days of the Apostles. ^ From Milton, whose malignity to the hierarchy is well known, neither truth nor justice is to be expected on the subject; but some approaches to both may be found in others. " In these times, (says Lilly, the hireling advocate of the Usur- pation) many worthy ministers lost their livings or benefices, for not complying with the Directory. Had you seen (O noble Esquire) what pitiful idiots were preferred into sequestrated church-benefices, you would have been grieved in your soul ; but when they came before the classes of divines, could those simpletons but only say they were converted by hearing such a sermon of that godly man, Hugh Peters, Stephen Marshall, or any of that gang, he was presently admitted." History of his Life, p. 87. Such were the successors of Hooker and Sanderson, of Usher and Hammond, of Donne and Herbert, &c. But even Milton lived to change his note even he who exultingly consigned a virtuous sovereign to the block, and a pious priesthood to ever- lasting perdition,* lived to call upon an hypocritical usurper, to whom all religion was a jest, to save him from the clergy whose intrusion into the church his own clamours had, at least, pro- moted. " Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling -wolves, whose gospel is their maw." Sonnet to Crom. * " But the Bishops (of the Church of England) who by the impairing and diminution of the true faith, the distresses and servitude of their country, aspire to high dignity, rule, and promotion here, after a shameful end in this life, which God ghant them ! shall be thrown down eternally into the darkest and deepest gulph of hell, where under.the despiteful controul, the trample and spurn of the other damned, who in the anguish of their torture, shall have no other ease than to exercise a raving and beastial tyranny over them, as their slaves and negroes; they shall remain in that plight for ever, the lowermost, the most dejected, most under foot, and trodden down vassals of perdition." Milton's Treatise on Refor- mation, sub fin. vol. i. p. 274. Dr. Johnson uses the language of forbearance when, rising from the perusal of this fiendlike cursing, he merely observed, " such was Milton's controversial malignity, that hell grew blacker at his frown." THE SAD SHEPHERD. 261 When to one goat they reach that prickly weed, Which maketh all the rest forbear to feed ; Or strew tods' hairs, or with their tails do sweep The dewy grass, to do'ff the simpler sheep; Or dig deep pits their neighbour's neat to vex, To drown the calves, and crack the heifers' necks; Or with pretence of chasing thence the brock, Send in a cur to worry the whole flock ! Lio. O friar, those are faults that are not seen, Ours open, and of worst example been. They call ours Pagan pastimes, that infect Our blood with ease, our youth with all neglect ; Our tongues with wantonness, our thoughts with lust ; And what they censure ill, all others must. Rob, I do not know what their sharp sight may see, Of late, but I should think it still might be As 'twas, an happy age, when on the plains The woodmen met the damsels, and the swains Jonson is far from being singular in his remarks on the growing moroseness of these dangerous times ; the author of Adrasta, (among a thousand others) felt and expressed the same sen- timents. Damon. Come, hands to work ! It is the festival Of our Silvanus, we must round entrench The fittest place for dancing. Laur. And strew the banks On which the summer Lord and Lady sit To see the sports, with those rich spoils of May. Armin. Our shepherds will be frolic then, and lose No ceremony of their ancient mirth. Damon. I like them well : the curious preciseness, And all-pretended gravity, of those That seek to banish hence these harmless sports, Have thrust away much ancient honesty. Armin. I do believe you. p. 53. 262 THE SAD SHEPHERD. The neat-herds, ploughmen, and the pipers loud, And each did dance, some to the kit or crowd, Some to the bag-pipe ; some the tabret mov'd, And all did either love, or were belov'd. Lio. The dextrous shepherd then would try his sling, Then dart his hook at daisies, then would sing; Sometimes would wrestle. Cla. Ay, and with a lass : And give her a new garment on the grass ; After a course at barley-break, or base. Lio. And all these deeds were seen without offence, Or the least hazard of their innocence. Rob. Those charitable times had no mistrust : Shepherds knew how to love, and not to lust. Cla. Each minute that we lose thus, I confess, Deserves a censure on us, more or less ; But that a sadder chance hath given allay Both to the mirth and music of this day. Our fairest shepherdess we had of late, Here upon Trent, is drown'd ; for whom her mate, Young ^glamour, a swain, who best could tread Our country dances, and our games did lead, Lives like the melancholy turtle, drown'd Deeper in woe, than she in water : crown'd With yew, and cypress, and will scarce admit The physic of our presence to his fit. Lio. Sometimes he sits, and thinks all day, then walks, Then thinks again, and sighs, weeps, laughs, and talks; And *twixt his pleasing frenzy, and sad grief, Is so distracted, as no sought relief By all our studies can procure his peace. Cla. The passion finds in him that large increase, As we doubt hourly we shall lose him too. THE SAD SHEPHERD. 2(53 Rob. You should not cross him then, whate'er you do. For phant'sie stopp'd, will soon take fire, and burn Into an auger, or to a phrensie turn. Cla. Nay, so we are advised by Aiken here, A good sage shepherd, who, although he wear An old worn hat and cloke, can tell us more Than all the forward fry, that boast their lore. Lio. See, yonder comes the brother of the maid, Young Karolin : how curious and afraid He is at once ! willing to find him out, And loth to offend him. Enter Karolin. Kar. Sure he's here about. Cla. See where he sits. [Points to JEglamour^ sitting upon a bank hard by. JEg. It will be rare, rare, rare ! An exquisite revenge ! but peace, no words ! Not for the fairest fleece of all the flock: If it be known afore, 'tis all worth nothing J I'll carve it on the trees, and in the turf, 1 , On every green sword, and in every path, Just to the margin of the cruel Trent. There will I knock the story in the ground, In smooth great pebble, and moss fill it round, Till the whole country read how she was drown'd \ And with the plenty of salt tears there shed, * I'll carve it on the trees, &c] This thought is sufficiently familiar to every pastoral writer ; but the particular object of Jonson's imitation was Spenser. ** Her name in every tree I will endosse, That as the trees do grow, her name may grow : And in the ground each where will it engrosse, And fill with stones that all men may it know." , Krj'x THTcov to xpctrig-ov aju-sXyo/x-sv^ ya.\ct 7rvw Tupog 8" a AeiTrej ft' ht sv Sepei, n7 sv 07rcopr l} Oy %EifJLU)voc oucpu>' Jonson mentions " a swarm of bees :" it is singular that this species of rural wealth should be overlooked by the Sicilian bard, when the introduction of it would have been so charac- teristic both of the scenery and the lover. Lorel's dwelling too is embellished with a richness which does not appear in the original description, (beautiful as it is,) and which being at once appropriate and tasteful, evinces the fancy no less than the fer- tility of the copyist. The reader may compare the passages. EvIj SaiQ-o~oi ) Ev7< fx,e\ag xkto-oc, svt ct[Mre\(&' a yAuxuxap7T', Ev7 ^/u^pov vtioop, to j.o a noXvdevfigs' Ailvct Aeuxctg ex X i0V &) 7r ' ov ^poo~iov } WfohftL Jonson's description of the oak, however, (as Mr. Waldron has observed in his Supplement,) is in a great measure borrowed from the Shepherd's Calendar. 9 And bring me wax and honey in bilive.] This word, which is derived by some from by le eve, and by others, from combinations equally fantastic, is composed of be (with) and life, and means freely, actively, readily, &c. 6. 278 THE SAD SHEPHERD. An aged oak, the king of all the field, With a broad breech there grows before my dur, That mickle mast unto the ferm doth yield. A chestnut, whilk hath larded mony a swine, Whose skins I wear to fend me fra' the cold ; A poplar green, and with a kerved seat, Under whose shade I solace in the heat ; And thence can see gang out and in my neat. Twa trilland brooks, each, from his spring, doth meet, And make a river to refresh my feet; In which each morning, ere the sun doth rise, I look myself, and clear my pleasant eyes., Before I pipe ; for therein I have skill 'Bove other swineherds. Bid me, and I will Straight play to you, and make you melody. Ear. By no means. Ah ! to me all minstrelsy Is irksome, as are you. Lor. Why scorn you me ? Because I am a herdsman, and feed swine ! I am a lord of other geer : This fine Smooth bawson cub, the young grice of a gray, Twa tyny urshins, and this ferret gay. * Thisjine Smooth bavt son's cub, the young grice of a gray.~\ A bear's cub, and the young ones of a badger. Whal. Whalley appears to have missed the meaning of the poet, who, though he probably alludes to the (rxv/xvoog apxlwv of Theocritus, (Ovid is out of the question,) was much too strict an observer of propriety to people the forest of Sherwood with bears young or old. The bawson cub (for so it should be read) and the young grice of a gray, are one and the same thing, namely, a young badger. Bawson indeed, as a substantive, (like brock which follows,) is a badger; but the word is used here as an adjective, and means bulky, overgrown, or when taken in a complimentary sense, as in this place, plump and sleek. Grice, Whalley says, is properly a sucking pig." It is commonly used in thii sense, THE SAD SHEPHERD. 279 Ear. Out on 'em ! what are these ? Lor. I give 'em ye, As presents, mistress. Ear. O the fiend on thee ! Gae, take them hence ; they fewmand all the claithes, 8 And prick my coats : hence with 'em, limmer lown, 3 Thy vermin and thyself, thyself art one ! Ay, lock me up all's well when thou art gone. [Lord leads her to the tree and shuts her in. [Maudlin and Douce come forward. Lor. Did you hear this ? she wish'd me at the fiend, With all my presents ! I believe ; but it is as properly the suckling of a badger or even of a bear, as a swine. It is in short, a young cub. Smooth could not be said of a (bear or) badger, whose hair is harsh and rough ; though the epithet might be aptly applied to the grice, or suckling. a Gae, take them hence, &c] The fol. reads Gar, which Mr. Waldron corrects, as in the text. It is somewhat singular that Earine should speak the rustic language of Lorel, unless it was meant as a ridicule upon it in this place. So little of her part appears in what remains of this play, that we have no means of ascertaining her real character ; it is however to be presumed that the " beautiful " shepherdess who could kindle such a flame in the breast of iEglamour, was of no vulgar strain, and that her accomplishments were no ways inferior to those of Mellifieur and Amie. Had Jonson lived to print the Sad Shepherd, or even the portion which we now have of it, we might have hoped for more regularity in the appropriation of the different dialects, which are now apparently confounded. He had taken much pains to acquire the northern phraseology from Lacy the player, (a native of Yorkshire,) and he would have used it with strict propriety. As it is, thf orthography of the folio is changeful, uncertain, and of little authority. ' Limmer.] i. e. vile, worthless, &c. Literally, it means a night-robber; but our Saxon ancestors used the word in a variety of senses, all, however, strongly expressive of contempt, or baseness. It is still current in the north of England ; but is confined, I believe, to females. 280 THE SAD SHEPHERD. Maud. A tu lucky end She wishand thee, foul limmer, dritty lown! Gud faith, it duills me that I am thy mother: And see, thy sister scorns thee for her brother. Thou woo thy love, thy mistress, with twa hedge- hogs : A stinkand brock, a polecat? out, thou houlet! Thou shouldst have given her a madge-owl, and then Thou'dst made a present o' thy self, owl-spiegle ! Douce. Why, mother, I have heard ye bid to give ; And often as the cause calls. Maud. I know well, It is a witty part sometimes to give; But what ? to wham ? no monsters, nor to maidens. He sulci present them with mare pleasand things, Things natural, and what ail women covet To see, the common parent of us all, Which maids will twire at 'tween their fingers thus ! 5 * Owl-spiegle.] The same with ulen-spicgle, or owl-glass. Whal. See vol. iv. p. 61. 5 Which maids will twire at ''tween their Jingcrs thus !] To twire is to leer affectedly, to glance at obliquely, or surreptitiously, at intervals, &c. It is frequent in our old writers. Thus Marston : " I saw a thing stir under a hedge, and I peeped, and 1 peered, and I twired underneath," &c. Ant. and Mcllida. And Fletcher. " I saw the wench that twired and twinkled at thee The other day, the young smug wench," &c. Woman Pleased. It occurs also in Shakspeare : u When sparkling stars twire not, thougildst the even.'* Son. xxtiii. r. 12. i. e. When the stars do not gleam, or appear at intervals. M Perhaps," says Mr. Malone, M for twire we should here read THE SAD SHEPHERD. 281 With which his sire gat him, he's get another, And so beget posterity upon her : This he should do ! False gelden, gang thy gait, And do thy turns betimes ; or I'se gar take Thy new breikes fra' thee, and thy dublet tu : The tailleur and the sowter sail undu' All they have made, except thou manlier woo ! [Exit Lord, Douce. Gud mother, gif you chide him, he'll do wairs. Maud. Hang him ! I geif him to the devil's eirs. But ye, my Douce, I charge ye, shew your sell Tu all the shepherds bauldly ; gaing amang 'em, Be mickel in their eye, frequent and fugeand : And gif they ask ye of Earine, Or of these claithes, say, that I gave 'em ye, And say no more. I have that wark in hand, That web upon the luime, shall gar 'em think By then, they feeling their own frights and fears, I'se pu' the world or nature'bout their ears. But, hear ye, Douce, because ye may meet me In mony shapes to-day, where'er you spy This browder'd belt with characters, 'tis I. A Gypsan lady, and a right beldame, twirl!" To my amazement, Mr. Steevens does not acquiesce in this exquiiite conjecture ; but, having learned from Tyrwhitt, that twire (spoken of a bird,) is probably a translation of susurro, he inclines to think that twire means quire, and consequently that the sense of the line is, " When sparkling stars sing not in concert," &c. This is surely " the best fooling of all," as sir Andrew observes, even though Mr. Steevens immediately adds, " Still tuire may be a corruption." Well might he wind up this farrago with exclaiming, as he does, " So much for guess work !" Twire should not have been suffered to grow obsolete, for we have no word now in use that can take its place, or be consi- dered as precisely synonymous with it in sense : leer and twinkle are merely shades of it. I 282 THE SAD SHEPHERD. Wrought it by moonshine for mje, and star-light, Upon your grannam's grave, that very night We earth'd her in the shades ; when our dame Hecate' Made it her gaing night over the kirk-yard, With all the barkand parish-tikes set at her, 7 While I sat whyrland of my brazen spindle : At every twisted thrid my rock let fly Unto the sewster, who did sit me nigh, Under the town turnpike ; which ran each spell 6 We earth'd her in the shades ; "when our dame Hecate] Mr. Davies, who is much disturbed at Jonson's presuming to pro- nounce Hecate as a trisyllable in his Masque of Queens, while Shakspeare is pleased to use it only as a dissyllable, might have quieted his spirit if he had looked into this passage, and pro. nounced the word just as he liked. In making Hecate a trisyl- lable, our poet, it seems, " intended to show his learning," and enjoy a mean triumph over the small Latin and no Greek of his " adversary '." Dram. Miscel. v. ii. Yet the spleen of Davies is more tolerable than the tedious absurdity of the other commentators, who labour to justify our great poet's pronunciation of this word from a mass of contem- porary authorities, as if it was not a matter of the utmost in- difference, and determined, in every case, by the measure of the verse. Shakspeare gave the word as he found it in Middleton, without caring whether it were a dissyllable or a trisyllable, and Jonson was too well acquainted with rhythm not to know that there were few places in English verse in which it would not stand as either. In his " addycions to Jeronymo," he had this line, u And yonder pale faced Hecate there, the moon," little forseeing, poor man, when he lightly slurred over the three syllables, that he should be accused of insulting the memory of Shakspeare, if he ventured, hereafter, to lay any stress upon the last. 7 With all the barkand parish-tikes set at her.~] The progress of Hecate over new made graves, and the barking of the dogs, are taken from the superstitious of antiquity ; Theocritus de- scribes her in the same manner : 'Exa7a, rav x< j8oi. THE SAD SHEPHERD. 291 Maud. Then why, then why, alone, Should his notes please you? Amie. I not long agone Took a delight with wanton kids to play, And sport with little Iambs a summcr's-day, And view their frisks : me thought it was a sight Of joy to see my two brave rams to fight ! Now Karol only all delight doth move, All that is Karol, K^rol I approve ! This very morning but I did bestow (It was a little 'gainst my will I know) A single kiss upon the silly swain, And now I wish that very kiss again. His lip is softer, sweeter than the rose, His mouth, and tongue, with dropping honey flows ; The relish of it was a pleasing thing. Maud. Yet, like the bees, it had a little sting. Amie. And sunk, and sticks yet in my marrow deep ; And what doth huit me, I now wish to keep. Mar. Alas, how innocent her story is ! Amie. I do remember, Marian, I have oft With pleasure kist my lambs and puppies soft; And once a dainty fine roe- fawn 1 had, Of whose out-skipping bounds, I was as glad As of my health ; and him I oft would kiss ; The office of announcing the spring is given by Simonides to the swallow, in a very picturesque line : Ay/sXoj xXvtix ea.f>(& a8uo>sib y beau, tiful, and, in some detached passages, worthy of the highest praise : the various turns of fortune too, though surprising, are yet probable, and according to the established creed ; and the persons of the drama supported with the characteristic discri- mination of the author's golden days. Whalley believes that this drama was left unfinished by the author : can scarcely think that we should have found a prologue to it, in that case ; a prologue, too, which manilestly refers to a piece ready for representation. On thf margin of his copy, he observes, trom Mr. Waidron, that lord Falkland seems to confirm his opinion in some lines on Jouson's ileatu, fiist printed in the Jonsunius yirbius. u Not long before his death, our woods he meant To visit, and descend from Thames to Trent." But this is merely an allusion to the poet's own woids, in the prologue : 4< if the end crown all, Old Trent will send you more such tales as these, And shall grow young again, as one doth please." THE SAD SHEPHERD. 307 I lament with Whalley, and with every reader of taste, that the whole of the Sad Shepherd has not reached us. That it was completed, I hare little doubt ; its mutilated state is easily accounted for by the confusion which followed the author's death. Into whose hands his papers fell, as he left, apparently, no will, nor testamentary document of any kind, cannot now be told ; perhaps, into those of the woman who resided with him, as his nurse, or some of her kin ; but they were evidently careless or ignorant, and put his manuscripts together in a very disorderly manner, losing some, and misplacing others. Had they handed down to us the Sad Shepherd in its complete state, we should have possessed a poem, which might have been con- fidently opposed to the proudest effort of dramatic genius that time has yet bequeathed us. THE FALL OF MORTIMER. The Fall of Mortimer.] This fragment, the last draught of Jonsoris quill, appears in the folio, 1640. It seems to have been overlooked at first, and is awkwardly shuffled in among the poetry at the end of the volume. The title page has this motto from Horace : Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno. Hor. Art. Poetic. and at the conclusion, we hare " Left Unfinished ;" a memo- randum, that seems to confirm the conjecture hazarded on the Sad Shepherd, of which the abrupt termination is followed by no such notice. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Mortimer, Earl of March. Adam d'Oriton, Bishop of Worcester . Ed wan! III. King of England. John, the King's brother, Earl of Cornwall. Henry, the King's cousin, Ea? I of Lancaster. W. Mountacute, King's servant. Ro. d 'Eland, Constable of Nottingham Castle. Nuncius, Or a herald. Isabel, Queen Mother. Chorus of ladies, knights, esquires, Sgc. THE ARGUMENT. The First Act comprehends Mortimer's pride and security, raised to the degree of an earl, by the queen's favour and love ; with the counsels of Adam d'Orlton, the politic bishop of Worcester, against Lancaster. The Chorus of ladies, celebrating the worthiness of the queen, in rewarding Mortimers services, and the bishop's. The Second Act shews the king's love and respect to his mother, that will hear nothing against Mortimer's great- ness, or believe any report of her extraordinary favours to him ; but imputes all to his cousin Lancaster's envy, and commands thereafter an utter silence of those matters. The Chorus of courtiers celebrating the king's worthiness of nature, and affection to his mother, who will hear nothing that may trench upon her honour, though delivered by his kinsman, of such nearness; and thereby take occasion to extol the king's piety, and their own happiness under such a king. The Third Act relates (by the occasion of a vision the blind earl of Lancaster had) to the king's brother, earl of Cornwall, the horror of their father's death, and the cunning making away of their uncle, the earl of Kent, by Mortimer's hired practice. The Chorus of country justices, and their wives, telling how they were deluded, and made believe the old king lived, by the shew of him in Corfe Castle; and how they saw him eat, and use his knife like the old king, fyc. with the de- scription of the feigned lights and masques there, that deceived them, all which came from the court. The Fourth Act expressetb, by conference between the king and his brother, a change, and intention to explore 314 THE ARGUMENT. the truth of those reports, and a charge of employing W. Mountacute to get the keys of the castle of Nottingham into the king's power, and draw the constable, sir Robert d'Rland, to their party. Mortimer s security, scorn of the nobility, too muchfamiliarity with the queen, related by the Chorus. The report of the king's surprising him in his mother's bed chamber : a ge- neral gladness. His being sent to execution. The Fifth Act, the Earl of Lancaster's following the cry, and meeting the report. The celebration of the king's justice. THE FALL OF MORTIMER. ACT I. SCENE I. The Palace. Enter Mortimer. Mor. This rise is made yet, and we now stand rankM, To view about us, all that were above us ! Nought hinders now our prospect, all are even, We walk upon a level. Mortimer Is a great lord of late, and a new thing ! A prince, an earl, and cousin to the king. At what a divers price, 1 do divers men Act the same things ! another might have had Perhaps the hurdle, or at least the axe, For what I have this crownet, robes, and wax. There is a fate that flies with towering spirits Hometothemark, and never checksat conscience. Poor plodding priests, and preaching friars may make Their hollow pulpits, and the empty iles Of churches ring with that round word : but we 1 At -what a divers price, &c] Multi Committunt eudem divcrso crimina Jato ; Ille crucem sceleris pretium tullt, hie diadema. Juv, Sat, xiii. 316 THE FALL OF MORTIMER. That draw the subtile and more piercing air, In that sublimed region of a court, Know all is good, we make so ; and go on Secured by the prosperity of our crimes. To-day is Mortimer made earl of March. For what? For that, the very thinking it Would make a citizen start; some politic trades- man Curl with the caution of a constable ! But I, who am no common-council-man, Knew injuries of that dark nature done Were to be thoroughly done, and not be left To fear of a revenge : they are light offences Which admit that : the great ones get above it. Man doth not nurse a deadlier piece of folly To his high temper, and brave soul, than that Of fancying goodness, and a scale to live by So differing from man's life. As if with lions, Bears, tygers, wolves, and all those beasts of prey, He would affect to be a sheep ! Can man Jvleglect what is so, to attain what should be, As rather he will call on his own ruin, Than work to assure his safety ? I should think When 'mongst a world of bad, none can be good, (I mean, so absolutely good and perfect, As our religious confessors would have us) It is enough we do decline the rumour Of doing monstrous things : And yet, if those Were of emolument unto our ends, Even of those, the wise man will make friends, For all the brand, and safely do the ill, As usuiers rob, or our physicians kill. Enter Isabel. Isab. My lord ! sweet Mortimer ! Mor, My quetn 1 my mistress ! THE FALL OF MORTIMER. 3\7 My sovereign, nay, my goddess, and my Juno! What name or title, as a mark of power Upon me, should I give you ? Isab. Isabel, Your Isabel, and you my Mortimer: Which are the marks of parity, not power, And these are titles best become our love. Mor. Can you fall under those ? Isab. Yes, and be happy. Walk forth, my loved and gentle Mortimer, And let my longing eyes enjoy their feast, And fill of thee, my fair-shaped, godlike man : Thou art a banquet unto all my senses : Thy form doth feast mine eye, thy voice mine ear, Thy breath my smell, thy every kiss my taste, And softness of thy skin, my very touch, As if I felt it ductile through my blood. I ne'er was reconciled to these robes, This garb of England, till I saw thee in them. Thou mak'st they seem not boisterous nor rude, Like my rough haughty lords de Engle-terre, With whom I have so many years been troubled. Mor. But now redeem'd, and set at liberty, Queen of yourself and them * * Had the poet lived to have completed this poem with the same spirit in which he began it, we should have been able to boast of one perfect tragedy at least, formed upon the Grecian model, and giving us the happiest imitation of the ancient drama. Whal. This is saying, I think, more than the fragment warrants. It is not indeed given us to anticipate what superior genius may fabricate out of the most untraceable materials ; but it cannot be concealed that this motley group of * ladies, country justices, and their wives," &c. affords no well-grounded expectation of a very fiappu tmttation of the ancient model. In the vast theatres of Greece, where the laws of the drama admitted hut three or four speakers at a time, a chorus was necessary to fill the eye, and was, indeed, the perfection of the scenic art ; but our poor and contracted stage had neither oc- casion, nor accommodation for them this, however, is from 318 THE FALL OF MORTIMER. the purpose, as Whalley ought to have been aware that Jonson proposed to himself no imitation of the choruses of the Greek drama, but of those of his contemporaries ; such, in fact, as he had already given in his CatiHne, and of which the original it to be sought in the tragedies of Seneca. THE CASE IS ALTERED. The Case is Altebed.] This Comedy, which should have stood as the head of Jonson's works, had chronology only been consulted, was first printed in 4to. 1609, hut must have been written at least ten or a dozen years before, since it is fami- liarly spoken of by Nash, in his Lenten Stuff, which appeared in 1 599. " Is it not right of the merry cobler's cutte in that witty play of the Case is Altered.'* p. 68. The old title page runs thus. " A pleasant Comedy called the Case is Altered; as it hath been sundry times acted by the Children of the Black-friars. Written by Ben Jonson." Not- withstanding this, we are magisterially informed by Mr. Stephen Jones, that il there is a question whether it was written by him." It is one of the evils of setting incompetent persons to edite books of reference, that time, which might be more pleasantly occupied, is necessarily taken up with the refutation of the crude assertions to which intrepid ignorance is perpetually giving vent. " It has no dedication or preface (he says) which are custo- marily prefixed to this author's plays, and it is omitted in all the folio editions printed in his life time." Biog. Dram. A 11 these editions, Mr. Jones will be astonished to hear, are simply that of 1616, v*hich also omits Bartholomew Fair, though he is pleased to assert the contrary. The fact is, that this comedy, though written by Jonson, was not published by him, as a mere inspection of the mountebank title would have proved to any one acquainted with his manner. In the quartos that came from his hands there is everywhere a careful and consistent distri- bution of the text, while the Case is Altered is printed with a degree of negligence and ignorance beyond example. In the first and second act, there is a ridiculous attempt to mark the scenes ; the rest of the play has no division at all : foreign languages, which, in the rest of Jonson's plays, are correctly given, are here invariably corrupt and unintelligible : and every thing serves to shew that he had nothing to do with the publi- cation, and therefore could prefix no " dedication" to it. In 1609, Jonson was in the height of bis reputation, and probably gave himself little concern about his earlier works, of which, indeed, the property might not be vested in him. He had written much before Every Man in his Humour ; and more perhaps was printed, than is now to be found. Had he chosen to disclaim the piece, as his character leads us to believe he would have done had it been falsely attributed to him, he wanted not opportunities: but this is a mere waste of words j the Case is Altered, though ignorantly, and perhaps imperfectly given, bears yet the clearest marks of Jonson's hand, and is, beyond all rational question, one of those works which he composed before he ms servants. Vincentio. I Balthasar. ) Valentine, servant to Colonnia. Peter Onion, groom of the hall. Juniper, a cobler. Pa cue, page to Gasper. Finio, page to Camillo. Page to Paulo. Phan&ella, 1 dau S hters t0 Count ***#> Rachel de Prie. Sewer, Messenger, Servants, fyc. SCENE, Milan. THE CASE IS ALTERED. ACT I. SCENE I. After a Flourish. Juniper is discovered, sitting at work in his shop, and singing? Jun. You woful wights, give ear a while, And mark the tenor of my style, IVhich shall such trembling hearts unfold, As seldom hath to fore been told. Such chances rare, and doleful news, Enter Onion in haste. Oni. Fellow Juniper ! peace a God's name. Jun. As may attempt your wits to muse. Oni. Od's so, hear, man ! a pox on you ! Jun. And cause such trickling tears to pass, Except your hearts be flint, or brass : Oni. Juniper! Juniper! Jun. To hear the news which I shall tell, That in- Castella once befel. * To understand something of this scenery (if indeed it be at all intelligible) it may be right to remember that Juniper is at work in the hall or atrium of Ferneze's palace, which is still the shop (to say no worse of it) of many of the lower artizans in the grea* towns of Italy. His song is something like the captain's in Rod eric Random : " Would you task the moon-ty'd hair," &c, Y2 324 THE CASE IS ALTERED. 'Sblood, where didst thou learn to corrupt a man in the midst of a verse, ha? Oni. Od'slid, man, service is ready to go up, man ; you must slip on your coat, and come in ; we lack waiters pitifully. Jun. A pitiful hearing ; for now must I of a merry cobler become [a] mourning creature. 3 Oni. Well, you'll come ? Jun. Presto. Go to, a word to the wise ; away, fly, vanish ! [JEffc Onion. Lie there the weeds that I disdain to wear. Enter Antonio Balladino. Ant. God save you, master Juniper ! Jun. What, signior Antonio Balladino! wel- come, sweet ingle. Ant. And how do you, sir ? Jun. Faith you see, put to my shifts here, as poor retainers be oftentimes. Sirrah Antony, there's one of my fellows mightily enamour'd of thee ; and i'faith, you slave, now you are come, I'll bring you together : it's Peter Onion, the groom of the hall; do you know him? Ant. No, not yet, I assure you. Jun. O, he is one as right of thy humour as may be, a plain simple rascal, a true dunce ; marry, he hath been a notable villain in his time : he is in love, sirrah, with a wench, and I have preferred thee to him ; thou shalt make him some pretty paradox, or some allegory. How does my coat sit ? well ? Ant, Ay, very well. * A movrnivg creature.] \. e. by putting on a black coat. It appears that the family were in mourning for the death of the lady Ferneze. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 325 Re-enter Onion. Oni. Nay, God's so, fellow Juniper, come away. Jun. Art thou there, mad slave ? I come with a powder ! Sirrah, fellow Onion, 1 must have you peruse this gentleman well, and do him good offices of respect and kindness, as instance shall be given. [Exit, Ant. Nay, good master Onion, what do you mean r I pray you, sir you are too respective, in good faith. Oni. I would not you should think so, sir ; for though I have no learning, yet I honour a scholar in any ground of the earth, sir. Shall I request your name, sir? Ant. My name is Antonio Ballad i no. Oni. Ballad i no ! you are not pageant poet to the city of Milan, sir, are you ? 3 1 Balladino ! you are not pageant poet to the city of Milan, sir, are you f] Anthony Munday, against whom all this wicked pleasantry is directed, was city poet, and, for many years, had the chief hand in devising and directing those pageants, which amused and edified the apprentices on festivals and holidays. Anthony ran through many occupations: he was, it is said, originally an actor, he then rambled over a great part of Europe, and linally returned to his first vocation. It might have been well for poor Balladino if his tranquillity had been molested by nothing more formidable than an attack on his poetry ; but, unluckily for himself, he published a de- tection of the Popish Conspiracy in 1582, which diew down the vengeance of the catholics, and embittered many years of his life by the personal assaults to which it exposed him. It would be unjust to dismiss Anthony Munday without adding that he appears to have been an industrious and worthy man. It is sufficient indeed to look into our old annalists, to be con- vinced that the city pageants (those, at least, which were ex- hibited previously to the appearance of this comedy) were not a little risible ; but Antony kept pace with the times, and was not outstripped till a gigantic race of men arose, who were destined to render competition desperate, and success hopeless. 36 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Ant. I supply the place, sir, when a worse cannot be had, sir. Oni, I cry you mercy, sir; I love you the better for that, sir ; by Jesu, you must pardon me, I knew you not ; but I would pray to be better acquainted with you, sir, I have seen of your works. Ant. I am at your service, good master Onion ; but concerning this maiden that you love, sir, what is she ? Oni. O, did my fellow Juniper tell you? Marry, sir, she is, as one may say, but a poor man's child indeed, and for mine own part, I am no gentle- man born, I must confess ; but my mind to me a kingdom is. Ant. Truly a very good saying. Oni. 'Tis somewhat stale ; but that's no matter. Ant. O 'tis the better; such things ever are like bread, which the staler it is, the more wholesome. Oni. This is but a hungry comparison, in my judgment. Ant. Why I'll tell you, master Onion, I do use as much stale stuff, though I say it myself, as any man does in that kind, I am sure. Did you see the last pageant I set forth r Oni. No faith, sir; but there goes a huge- report on't. Ant. Why you shall be one of myMaecen-asses; I'll give you one of the books ; O you'll like it admirably. Oni. Nay, that's certain ; I'll get my fellow Juniper to read it.' He died in a good old age, and was honoured with an epitaph, which, tor dull prolixit), exceeds any " speech " to be found in any pageant of which he wa,s ever guilty. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 327 Ant Read it, sir ! I'll read it to you. Oni. Tut, then I shall not choose but like it. Ant. Why look you, sir, I write so plain, and keep that old decorum, that you must of neces- sity like it ; marry you shall have some now (as for example, in plays) that will have every day new tricks, and write you nothing but humours: indeed this pleases the gentlemen, but the com- mon sort they care not for't ; they know not what to make on't ; . they look for good matter they, and are not edified with such toys. Oni. You are in the right, I'll not give a half- penny to see a thousand of them. 1 was at one the last term ; but an ever I see a more roguish thing, I am a piece of cheese, and no Onion : nothing but kings and princes in it ; the fool came not out a jot. Ant. True, sir; they would have me make such plays, but as I tell them, an they'll give me twenty pounds a play, I'll not raise my vein. Oni. No, it were a vain thing an you should, sir. Ant. Tut, give me the penny, give me the penny, I care not for the gentlemen, I ; let me have a good ground, no matter for the pen, the plot shall carry it. Oni. Indeed that's right, you are in print al- ready for the best plotter 4 * You are in print already for the best plotter.] This is levelled at Meres, who in his Wits Trtasurie, published in 1598, when the stage was already in possession of some of Shakspeare's noblest pieces, absurdly pronounced Anthony to be our best plotter, in the same breath with which he had been speaking of our great poet, Chapman. Heywood, and others. For this well-merited reproof of the critic, Jonson is thus compli- mented by Mr. Malone. " The malignity of old Ben, which endeavoured to tear a wreath from the brow of Shakspeare, 328 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Ant. Ay, I. might as well have been put in for a dumb shew too. Oni Ay, marry, sir, I marie you were not. Stand aside, sir, a while. {Exit Antonio. [An armed Sewer, followed by Juniper, Se- bastian, Martino, Balthasar, Vincentio, and other Servants in mourning, with dishes, fyc. passes over the stage. Enter Valentine. How now, friend, what are you there ? be would certainly not spare inferior writers." It must be admitted that the name of Shakspearc is very appositely introduced on this occasion. M But," continues Mr. Malone, " he might be a man of talents notwithstanding." Here the matter ends ; and the reader is left (according to the established mode) to con- clude that the abilities of Antony were never questioned but by " the malignity of old Ben." Yet Antony (cogging Antony, as his enemies called him) was a very common subject of ridi- cule. The Triumphs of Truth, written by Middleton, to cele- brate the entrance of Sir T. Middleton into the mayoralty, has many reflections on " the pageant poet" of the city. " All these pageants (says the author) have been redeemed by me from the ignorance of former times, and their common -writer." And again : u How careful ought those to be to whom the weight of providing these shows is committed, to have all things corres- pondent to that noble freeness of cost ! a knowledge that may take the true height of such an honourable solemnity the miserable want of both which in the impudent common writer," (so marked in the original), '* hath often forced from me much pity and sorrow." There is more of this ; but I forbear. Anthony seems to have lost his credit in 1611; in 1612 Decker was employed, in 1613 Middleton; but in 1614 the worthy citizens had recourse again to their old poet, whose giants continued to stalk before them, with great applause, for several successive years. It is probable too that most if not all of the annual pageants from 1591 to the death of Elizabeth were produced by Antony, who was also keeper of the properties of the dragons, and other monsters of the show. Even Middleton was compelled to apply to bim for " porters" to set in motios his paste-board gods. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 329 uncovered. Would you speak with any man here ? Val. Ay, or else I must have returned you no answer. Oni. Friend, you are somewhat too peremp- tory, let's crave your absence ; nay, never scorn it, I am a little your better in this place. Val. I do acknowledge it. Oni. Do you acknowledge it ? nay, then you shall go forth ; I'll teach you how [you" shall acknowledge it another time ; go to, void. I must have the hall purged ; no setting up of a rest here; pack, begone ! Val. I pray you, sir, is not your name Onion? Oni. Your friend as you may use him, and master Onion ; say on. Val. Master Onion, with a murrain ! come, come, put off this lion's hide, your ears have dis- covered you. Why, Peter ! do not I know you, Peter? Oni. God's so, Valentine ! Val. O, can you take knowledge of me now, sir ? Oni. Good Lord, sirrah, how thou art altered with thy travel ! Val. Nothing so much as thou art with thine office ; but, sirrah Onion, is the count Ferneze at home? Oni. Ay, bully, he is above, and the lord Paulo Ferneze, his son, and madam Aurelia and madam Phocnixella, his daughters ; but, O Valentine! Val. How now, man ! how dost thou? Oni. Faitb, sad, heavy, as a man of my coat ought to be. Val. Why, man, thou wert merry enough even now. Oni. True ; but thou knowest 330 THE CASE IS ALTERED. All creatures here sojourning, Upon this wretched earth, Son.e times have a Jit of mourning, As well as a Jit of mirth. O Valentine, mine old lady is dead, man. Val. Dead! Oni. P faith. Val. When died slie ? Oni. Marry, to-morrow shall be three months, she was seen going to heaven, they say, about some five weeks agone how now ? trickling tears, ha ! Val. Faith, thou hast made me weep with this news. Oni. Why I have done but the part of an Onion ; you must pardon me. Re-enter the Sewer, followed by the Servants with dishes, as before : they all pass over the stage but Juniper. Jun. What, Valentine ! fellow Onion, take my dish, I prithee. | Exit Onion with the dish.] You rogue, sirrah, tell me how thou dost, sweet ingle, Val. Faith, Juniper, the better to see thee thus frcelich. Jun. Nay ! slid I am no changling, I am Ju- niper still. I keep the pristinate ; ha, you mad hieroglyphic, when shall we swagger ? Val. Hieroglyphic ! what meanest thou by that? Jun. Mean ! od'so, is it not a good word, man? what, stand upon meaning with your friends ? Puh ! abscond. Val. Why, but stay, stay ; how long has this sprightly humour haunted thee ? Jun. Fob, humour! a foolish natural gift we have in the iEquinoxial. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 331 Val. Natural! slid it may be supernatural, this. Jun. Valentine, I prithee ruminate thyself welcome. VI hat, fort una de la guerra ! Val. O how pitifully are these words forced ! as though they were pumpt out on's belly. .. Jun. Sirrah ingle, I think thou hast seen all the strange countries in Christendom since thou weut'st. Val. I have seen some, Juniper. Jun. You have seen Constantinople ? Val. Ay, that I have. Jun. And Jerusalem, and the Indies, and Goodwin-sands, and the tower of Babylon, and Venice, and all? Val. Ay, all ; no marie an he have a nimble tongue, if he practise to vault thus from one side of the world to another. [Aside. Jun, O, it's a most heavenly thing to travel, and see countries ; especially at sea, an a man had a patent not to be sick. Val. O, sea- sick jest, and full of the scurvy ! Re-enter Sebastian, Martino, Vincentio, and Balthasar. Seb. Valentine 1 welcome, i'faith ; how dost, sirrah ? Mar. How do you, good Valentine ? Vin. Troth, Valentine, I am glad to see you. Bal. Welcome, sweet rogue. Seb. Before God, he never look'd better in his life. Bal. And how is't, man ? what alio cor agio I Val. Never better, gentlemen, i'faith. Jun. 'Swill! here comes the steward. 332 THE CASE IS ALTERED Enter Christophero. Chris. Why, how now, fellows ! all here, and nobody to wait above, now they are ready to rise ? look up, one or two. \Kveunt Juniper, Martino, and Vincentio.~\ Signior Francisco Co- lonnia's man, how does our good master ? Val. In health, sir; he will be here anon. Chris. Is he come home, then ? Val. Ay, sir; he is not past six miles hence; he sent me before to learn if count Ferueze were here, aud return him word. Chris. Yes, my lord is here; and you may tell your master, he shall come very happily to take his leave of lord Paulo Fer-neze ; who is now instantly to depart, with other noble gentlemen, upon special service. Val. I will tell him, sir. Chris. I pray you do; fellows, make him drink. Val. Sirs, what service is it they are employed in ? Seb. Why, against the French ; they mean to have a fling at Milan again, they say. Val. Who leads our forces, can you tell r Seb. Marry, that does Signior Maximilian; he is above now. Val Who! Maximilian of Vicenza ? Bait. Ay, he ; do you know him ? Val. Know him ! O yes, he's an excellent brave soldier. Bait. Ay, so they say ; but one of the most vain-glorious men in Europe. Val. He is, indeed ; marry, exceeding valiant. Seb. And that is rare. Bait. What? St b. Why, to see a vain-glorious man valiant. Val. Well, he is so, 1 assure you. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 533 Re-enter Juniper. Jun. What, no further yet ! come on, you precious rascal, sir Valentine, I'll give you a health i'faith, for the heavens, you mad Ca- pricio, hold hook and line. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room, in count Ferneze's House. Enter lord Paulo Feiineze, folloxced by his Page. Pau. Boy ! Page. My lord. Pau. Sirrah, go up to signior Angelo, And pray him, if he can, devise some means To leave my father, and come speak with me. Page. I will, my lord. [Exit, Pau. Well, heaven be auspicious in the event, For I do this against my Genius ! And yet my thoughts cannot propose a reason Why I should fear, or faint thus in my hopes, Of one so much endeared to my love. Some spark it is, kindled within the soul, Whose light yet breaks not to the outward sense, That propagates this timorous suspect; * I'll give you a health, i'faith, for the heavens.] i. e. by heaven ! Enough, perhaps, has been said of this petty oath, vol. ii. p. 67 ; but as I have an example or two before me, I will subjoin them. " 1 was liquored soundly, my guts were rinced 5> /or the hea- vens." What you xoill. Again : An't please the gods now, you shall see me tickle the measure,ybr the heavens ! Ant. and Mcllida. Assurance is now " made doubly sure," I trust ; and we may finally hope to her no more of, for the haven, or to the Parens. 334 THE CASE IS ALTERED. His actions never carried any fare Or change, or weakness; then I injure hirn In b-ing thus cold-conceited of his faith. O, here he comes. Re-enter Page with Angelo. Ang. How now, sweet lord, what's the matter? Pau. Good faith, his presence makes me half ashamed Of my stray'd thoughts. Boy, bestow your- self. [Esit Page. Where is my father, signior Angelo ? Ang. Marry, in the gallery, where your lord- ship left him. Pau. That's well. Then, Angelo, I will be brief, Since time forbids the use of circumstance. How well you are received in my affection, Let it appear by this one instance only, That now I will deliver to your trust The dearest secrets, treasured in my bosom. Dear Angelo, you are not every man, But one, whom my election hath design'd, As the true proper object of my soul. I urge not this to insinuate my desert, Or supple your tried temper with soft phrases; True friendship loathes such oily compliment : But from the abundance of that love that flows Through all my spirits, is my speech enforced. Ang. Before your lordship do proceed too far, Let me be bold to intimate thus much ; That whatsoe'er your wisdom hath to expose, Be it the weightiest and moat rich affair That ever was included in your breast, My faith shall poise it, if not Pau. O, no more ; Those words have rapt me with their sweet effects, THE CASE IS ALTERED. 335 So freely breath'd, and so responsible To tint which I endeavour'd to extract; Arguing a happy mixture of our souls. Ang Why, were there no such sympathy, sweet lord, Yet the impressure of those ample favours I 'uive derived from your unmatched spirit, Would bind my faith to all observances. Pau. How ! favours, Angelo ! O speak not of them, They are mere paintings, and import no merit. Looks my love well? thereon my hopes are placed; Faith, that is bought with favours, cannot last. Re-enter Page. Page. My lord. Pau. How now ! Page. You are sought for all about the house within ; the count your father calls for you. Pau. Lord ! What cross events do meet my purposes! Now will he violently fret and grieve That I am absent. Boy, say I come presently. [_Exit Boy. Sweet Angelo, I cannot now insist Upon particulars, I must serve the time; The main of all this is, I am in love. Ang. Why starts your lordship ? Pau. I thought I heard my father coming hitherward, List, ha ! Aug. I hear not any thing, It was but your imagination sure. Pau. No ! Ang. No, I assure your lordship. Pau I would work safely. Ang. Why, 336 THE CASE IS ALTERED, Has he no knowledge of it then ? Pau. O no ; No creature yet partakes it but yourself, In a third person; and believe me, friend, The world contains not now another spirit, To whom I would reveal it. Hark ! hark ! Servants within.'] Signior Paulo ! lord Ferneze ! Ang. A pox upon those brazen-throated slaves ! What are they mad, trow ? Pau. Alas, blame not them, Their services are, clock-like, to be set Backward and forward, at their lord's command. You know my father's wayward," and his humour Must not receive a check ; for then all objects Feed both his grief and his impatience. And those affections in him are like powder, Apt to inflame with every little spark, And blow up reason ; therefore, Angelo, peace. Count F. [within.] Why, this is rare ; is he not in the garden? Chris, [within.] I know not, my lord. Count F [within.] See, call him. Pau. He is coming this way, let's withdraw a little. [Exeunt. Ser. [within.] Signior Paulo ! lord Ferneze ! lord Paulo ! 6 You know my father's wayward, &c] This is a skilful and judicious anticipation of the violent and impatient character of Ferneze. It merits notice too on another account, as serving to shew at how early a period of his dramatic career, Jonson had formed his opinion on the nature and conduct of it. This pre- paration of the scene for the person who is about to appear, is the distinguishing mark of all his dramas. It should be added that the poet is singularly happy in delineating what he has conceived, although his minute descriptions occasionally disap- point the spectator's sagacity, and pall the ardent curiosity which every well-formed plot should naturally excite. The reader will find more on this subject in the notes to Every Man ut of his Humour. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 337 Enter count Ferneze, Maximilian, Aurelia, Phcenixella, Sebastian, and Balthasar. Count F. Where should he be, trow ? did you look in the armory ? Seb. No, my lord. Count F. No? why there ! O, who would keep such drones ! [Edtunt Scb. and Bal. Enter Mart i no. How now, have you found him ? Mart, No, my lord. Count F. No y my lord / I shail have shortlv ail my family speak nought but, No, my lord. VVhere is C hristophero ? Look how he stands ! you sleepy knave [Exit Martino. Enter Christophero. What, is he not in the garden ? Chris. No, my good lord. Count F. Your good lord i O, how this smells of fennel! 7 1 Your good lord ! 0, how tlus smells of fennel /] j. e. says Whalley, " How jtnlous it shews!" if this were the meaning of the phrase, its application would nut be much o the purpose in this place but in truth, it has no such import. To smell of fennel! is simply, to smell of flatteiy ; and the allusion s r o " good lordf* which Christophero had just called the fractious and impatient count. An example or two of this seme of ths word may be worth subjoining. Thus Lilly : " Flatter, I mean lie: little things catch light minds, and fancie is a worm that feeds upon ftnneV i. e. lore feeds upon flattery. Sappho and Phaon. A. II. S. 4. And Bancroft: M You that ths eyes of this faire Island are, How much conceraes it you to have a care, vol, vr. Z 338 THE CASE IS ALTERED. You have been in the garden, it appears : well, well. Re-enter Sebastian and Balthasar. Bal. We cannot find him, my lord. Stb He is not in the armory. Count F. He is not ! he is no where, is he? Max. Count Ferneze ! Count F. Signior. Max. Preserve your patience, honourable count. Count F. Patience ! A saint would lose his patience, to be crost As I am, with a sort of motley brains ; Set*, see, how like a nest of rooks they stand Gaping on one another ! Enter Onion. Now, Diligence ! What news bring you ? Oni. An't please your honour Count F. Tut, tut, leave pleasing of my honour, Diligence; You double with me, come. Oni. How ! does he find fault with please his honour ? 'S wounds, it has begun a serving- man's speech, ever since I belonged to the blue order ;* That you from filmes of ignorance be free, Nor in fhe flatterer'' s fennel take delight, But hearbc of grace that purifies the sight. Epig. 137. Alliteration seems to have led our ancestors to most of these fanciful combinations ; and fennel, perhaps, bears much about the same relation to flattery, that rosemary does to remembrance. 8 Ever since I belonged to the blue order.] i. e. Ever since I have been a servant. Blue coats were the usual livery of servants. Whai. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 339 I know not how it may shew, now I am in hlack ; but [Aside. Count F. What's that you mutter, sir; will you proceed ? Oni. An't like your good lordship Count F. Yet more ! od\precious ! Oni. What,doesnot this like him neither? [Aside. Count F. What say you, sir knave? Oni. Marry, I say your lordship were best to set me to school again, to learn how to deliver a message. Count F. What, do you take exceptions at me then ? Oni. Exceptions ! I take no exceptions ; but, by god's so, your humours Count F. Go to, you are a rascal ; hold your tongue Oni. Your lordship's poor servant, I. Count F. Tempt not my patience. Oni. Why I hope I am no spirit, am I? Max. My lord, command your steward to correct the slave. Oni. Correct him ! 'sblood, come you and cor- rect him, an you have a mind to it. Correct him ! that's a good jest, i'faith : the steward and you both come and correct him. Count F. Nay, see ! away with him, pull his cloth over his ears. Oni. Cloth! tell me of your cloth! here's your cloth ; nay, an I mourn a minute longer, I am the rottenest Onion that ever spake with a tongue. [They thrust him out. Max. What call [you] your hind's [name,] count Ferneze? Count F. His name is Onion, signior. Max. I thought him some such saucy companion. Count F. Signior Maximilian. Z2 340 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Max. Sweet lord. Count F. Let me entreat you, you would not regard Any contempt flowing from such a spirit; So rude, so barbarous. Max. Most noble count, Under your favour Count F. Why, I'll tell you, signior ; He'll bandy with me word for word ; nay more, Put me to silence, strike me perfect dumb ; And so amaze me, that often-times I know not Whether to check or cherish his presumption : Therefore, good signior Max, Sweet lord, satisfy yourself, I am not now to learn how to manage my affections ; I have observed, and know the difference between a base wretch and a true man ; I can distinguish them : the property of the wretch is, he would hurt, and cannot ; of the man, he can hurt, and will not. [Aurelia smiles. Count F. Go to, my merry daughter ; O, these looks Agree well with your habit, do they not? , Enter Juniper in his cobler's dress. Jun. Tut, let me alone. By your favour, this is the gentleman, I think : sir, you appear to be an honourable gentleman ; I understand, and could wish for mine own part, that things were cpnden't otherwise than they are : but, the world knows, a foolish fellow, somewhat proclive and hasty, he did it in a prejndicate humour; many now, upon better computation, he wanes, he melts, his poor eyes are in a cold sweat. Right Xioble signior, you can have but compunction ; I Jove the man ; teuder your compassion. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 341 Max. Doth any man here understand this fellow ? Jan. O Lord, sir ! I may say frustra to the comprehension of your intellection. Max. Before the Lord, he speaks all riddle, I think. I must have a comment ere I can con- ceive him. Count F. Why he sues to have his fellow Onion pardon'd ; and you must grant it, signior. Max. O, with all my soul, my lord ; is that his motion ? Jun. Ay, sir; and we shall retort these kind favours with all alacrity of spirit we can, sir, as may be most expedient, as well for the quality as the cause ; till when, in spite of this compliment, I rest a poor cobler, servant to my honourable lord here, your friend and Juniper. [Exit. Max. How, Juniper! Count F. Ay, signior. Max. He is a sweet youth, his tongue has a happy turn when he sleeps. Enter Paulo Ferneze, Francisco Colonnia, Angelo, and Valentine. Count F. Ay, for then it rests. O, sir, you're welcome. Why, God be thanked, you are found at last: Signior Colonnia, truly you are welcome, 1 am glad to see you, sir, so well return'd. Fran. I gladly thank your honour; yet, indeed, I am sorry for such cause of heaviness As hath possest your lordship in my absence. Count F. O, Francisco, you knew her what she was ! Fran. She was a wise and honourable lady. Count F. Ay, was she not ! well, weep not, she is gone. 342 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Passion's dull'd eye can make two griefs of one. Whom death marks out, virtue nor blood can save : Princes, as beggars, all must feed the grave. Max. Are your horses ready, lord Paulo? Pau. Ay, signior ; they stay for us at the gate. Max. Well, 'tis good. Ladies, I will take my leave of you; be your fortunes, as yourselves, fair! Come, let us to horse; Count Ferneze, I bear a spirit full of thanks for all your honourable courtesies. Count F. Sir, I could wish the number and value of them more, in respect of your deservings. But, signior Maximilian, I pray you a word in private. [They walk aside. Aur. I'faith, brother you are fitted for a ge- neral yonder. Beshrew my heart if I had Fortu- natus' hat here, an I would not wish myself a man, and go with you, only to enjoy his presence. Pau. Why, do you love him so well, sister? Aur. No, by my troth ; but I have such an odd pretty apprehension of his humour, methinks, that I am e'en tickled with the conceit of it. O, he is a fine man. Ang. And methinks another may be as fine as he. Aur. O, Angelo 1 do you think I urge any comparison against you ? no, I am not so ill bred, as to be a depraver of your worthiness : believe me, if I had not some hope of your abiding with us, I should never desire to go out of black whilst I lived ; but learn to speak in the nose, and turn puritan presently. Ang. I thank you, lady ; I know you can flout. Aur. Come, do you take it so ? i'faith, you wrong me. Fran. Ay, but madam, Thus to disclaim in all the effects of pleasure, TFiE CASE IS ALTERED. 343 May make your sadness seem too much affected; And then the proper grace of it is lost. Phcen. Indeed, sir. if I did put on this sadness Only ahroad, and in society, And were in private merry, and quick humour'd, Then might it seem affected, and abhorr'd : But, as my looks appear, such is my spirit, Drown'd up with confluence of grief and melan- choly ; That, like to rivers, run through all my veins, Quenching the pride and fervour of my blood. Max. My honourable lord, no more. There is the honour of my blood engaged For your son's safety. Count F. Siguior, blame me not For tending his security so much; He is mine only son, and that word only Hath, with his strong and repercussive sound, Struck my heart cold, and given it a deep wound. Max. Why, but stay, I beseech you ; had your lordship ever any more sous than this ? Count F. Why, have not you known it, Maxi- milian ? Max. Let my sword fail me then. Count F. I had one other, younger born than this, By twice so many hours as would fdl The circle of a year, his name Camillo, Whom in that black and fearful night I lost, ('Tis now a nineteen years agone at least, And yet the memory of it sits as fresh Within my brain as 'twere but yesterday) It was that night wherein the great Chamont, The general tor France, surprised Vicenza; Methinks the horror of that clamorous shout His soldiers gave, when they attain'd the wall, Yet tinsles in mine ears : methinks I see 344 THE CASE IS ALTERED. With what amazed looks, distracted thoughts, Ant! minds confused, we, that were citizens, Confronted one another; every street Was fjll'd with bitter self- tormenting cries, And happy was that foot, that first could press The flowery champain bordering on Verona. Here I, employ'd about my dear wife's safety, Whose soul is now in peace, lost my Camiilo; Who sure was murder 'd by the barbarous soldiers, Or else I should have heard my heart is great. " Sorrow is faint, and passion makes me sweat." Max. Grieve not, sweet count, comfort your spirits, you have a son, a noble gentleman, he stands in the face of honour ; for his safety let that be no question; lam master of my fortune, and he shall share with me. Farewell, my honour- able lord : ladies, once more adieu. For your- self, madam, you are a most rare creature, I tell you so, be not proud of it: I love you. Come, lord Paulo, to horse. jpau, Adieu, good signior Francisco ; farewell, sisters. [A tucket sounds. 7 Exeunt severally. SCENE IIL The street before Jaques de Prie's house. EnterVAVLO Fernfze, and Ax gelo, followed by Maximilian. Ang. How shall we rid him hence? Pau. Why well enough. Sweet signior Maxi- milian, f A tucka sounds ] A corruption of toccato, Ital. a slight flourish on the trumpet. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 345 I have some small occasion to stay; If it may please you but take horse afore, I'll overtake you ere your troops be ranged. Max. Your motion doth taste well ; lord Ft- neze, I go. [Exit. Pau. Now, if my love, fair Rachel, were so happy But to look forth. See, fortune doth me grace Enter Rachel. Before I can demand. How now, love ! Where is your father? Rach. Gone abroad, my lord. Pau. That's well. Rach. Ay, but I fear he'll presently return. Are you now going, my most honour'd lord? Pau. Ay, my sweet Rachel. Ang. Before God, she is a sweet wench. [Aside. Pau. Rachel, I hope 1 shall not need to urge The sacred purity of our affects, As if it hung in trial or suspense ; Since, in our hearts, and by our mutual vows, It is confirm'd and seal'd in sight of heaven. Nay, do not weep; why start you? fear not, love! Your father cannot be return'd so soon. I prithee do not look so heavily ; Thou shalt want nothing. Rach. No ! is your presence nothing? I shall want that, and wanting that, want ail ; For that is all to me. Pau. Content thee, sweet ! I have made choice here of a constant friend, This gentleman ; one, [on] whose zealous love I do repose more, than on all the world, Thy beauteous self excepted ; and to him Have I committed my dear care of thee, 346 THE CASE IS ALTERED. As to my genius, or ra y other soul. Receive him, gentle love ! and what defects My absence proves, his presence shall supply. The time is envious of our longer stay. Farewell, dear Rachel ! Rack. Most dear lord, adieu! Heaven and honour crown your deeds and vnu. [Exit. Paul. Faith, tell me, Angelo, how dost thou like her? Ang. Troth, well, my lord ; but, shall I speak my mind ? Pau. I prithee do. Ang. She is derived too meanly to be wife To such a noble person, in my judgment. Pau. Nay, then thy judgment is too mean, I see: Didst thou ne'er read, in difference of good, 'Tis more to shine in virtue than in blood. Ang. Come, you are so sententious, my Lord. Enter Jaques. Pau. Here comes her father. How dost thou, good Jaques? Ang. God save thee, Jaques! Jaq. What should this mean ? Rachel ! open the door. [Exit, Ang. S'blood how the poor slave looks [aghast], as though He had been haunted by the spirit, Lar; Or seen the ghost of some great Satrapas In an unsavory sheet. Pau. I muse he spake not ; Belike he was amazed, coming so suddenly, And unprepared. Well, let us go. [Exeunt. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 347 ACT II. SCENE I. The Court-yard, at the back o/'Jaques' House, Enter Jaques. So, now enough, my heart, beat now no more; At least for this affright. What a cold sweat Flow'd on mv brows, and over all mv bosom ! Had I not reason ? to behold my door Beset with unthrifts, and myself abroad? Why, Jaques! was there nothing in the house Worth a continual eye, a vigilant thought, Whose head should never nod, nor eyes once wink ? Look on my coat, my thoughts, worn quite threadbare, That time could never cover with a nap, And by it learn, never with naps of sleep To smother your conceits of that you keep. But yet, I marvel why these gallant youths Spoke me so fair, and I esteem'd a beggar! The end of flattery is gain, or lechery: If they seek gain of me, they think me rich ; But that they do not: for tht-ir other object, 'Tis in my handsome daughter, if it be: And, by your leave, her handsomeness may tell them My beggary counterfeits, and, that her neatness Flows from some store of wealth, that breaks my coffers With this same engine, love to mine own breed; But this is answer'd : Beggars will keep fine Their daughter^ being fair, though themselves pine. 348 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Well, then, it is for her; ay, 'tis sure for her; And I make her so brisk for some of them. That I might live alone once with my gold ! O, 'tis a sweet companion ! kind and true ; A man may trust it when his father cheats him, Brother, or friend, or wife. O, wondrous pelf ! That which makes all men false, is true itself. But now, this maid is but supposed my daughter; For I being steward to a lord of France, Of great estate and wealth, cali'd lord Chamont, He gone into the wars, I stole his treasure ; (But hear not any thing) I stole his treasure, And this his daughter, being but two years old, Because it loved me so, that it would leave The nurse herself, to come into mine arms; And had I left it, it would sure have died. Now herein I was kind, and had a conscience: And since her lady-mother, that did die In child-bed of her, loved me passing well, It may be nature fashion'd this affection, Both in the child and her: but he's ill bred That ransacks tombs, and doth deface the dead. I'll therefore say no more; suppose the rest. Here have I changed my form, my name and hers, And live obscurely, to enjoy more safe My dearest treasure :* But I must abroad. llachel ! 1 This soliloquy is very inartificial; butjonson was led into the palpable absurdity of addressing the spectators by his model, Plautus, whose prologue to the Auhilaria he had here in tiew. Plautus had been commended for the introductory speech of his Lar, on account of the difficulty, or as the critics were pleased to term if, the impossibility of the circumstances which he announces being disclosed to the audience by any other mode ; and this was more than sufficient to induce our poet, in the infancy of his acquaintance wifh the stage, and while his admiration of the ancients wa3 yet undisciplined by any iCT,er THE CASE IS ALTERED. 349 Enter Rachel. JRach. What is your pleasure, sir? Jaq. Rachel, I must abroad. Lock thyself in, but yet take out the key; Tbat whosoever peeps in at the key-hole May yet imagine there is none at home. Rach. I will, sir. Jaq. But hark thee, Rachel; say a thief should come, And miss the key, he would resolve indeed None were at home, and so break in the rather: Ope the door, Rachel; set it open, daughter; But sit in it thyself, and talk aloud, As if there were some more in th' house with thee : Put out the fire,* kill the chimney's heart, exercise of judgment, to follow the example. Both writers are wrong; but the old dramatist finds a ready excuse in the slo- venly practice of the Greek and Roman stage, where a god was always at hand to extricate the poet from the difficulties in which his own awkwardness had involved him. It was necessary, per- haps, to account for the wealth both ol Euclio and Jaques ; but this might have been done without a set speech, and much of the interest now lost by anticipation, preserved through the greater part of the respective pieces. * Put out thejire, &c] This is from Plautus. In a play long subsequent to this {the Dtvil is an Ass) Jonson imitated at large the passage on which he has here but slightly touched. Quod quispiam igncm quwrat extingvi volo ; He causce quid sit, quod te quisquam qitceritet i JNam si ignis vivet, tu extingtr re ixtemplo. Cult rum, sreurim, pistillim, ntortarium y Qu< uttnda xasa semp'.r victni roga/it, Fures venisse, at que abstidis.se dicito. Prujccto in cedes mens me abseute nemintm Volo i/itrumitti ; atque ttiuw hoc prwdico tibi, Si Bona Fortunavc/nat, ne intromheris." AuL. A. I. S. 1. Here our author found the " Good Fortune, and God s Blessing* 550 THE CASE IS ALTERED. That it may breathe no more than a dead man ; The more we spare, my child, the more we gain. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in count Ferneze's House. Enter Christophero, Juniper, and On ion. Chris. What says my fellow Onion ? come on. Oni. All of a house sir, but no fellows; you are my lord's steward : but, I pray you, what think you of love, sir? Chris. Of love, Onion? why, it is a very ho- nourable humour. Oni. Nay, if it be but worshipful, I care not. Jun. Go to, it is honourable; check not at the conceit of the gentleman. Oni. But, in truth, sir, you shall do well to think well of love: for it thinks well of you, in me, I assure you. Chris. Gramercy, fellow Onion ; I do think well, thou art in love ; art thou? Oni. Partly, sir; but I am ashamed to say wholly. Chris. Well, I will further it in thee, to any honest woman, or maiden, the best I can. Jun. W 7 hy, now you come near him, sir; he cloth vail, he doth remunerate, he doth chew the cud, in the kindness of an honest imperfec- tion to your worship. Chris. But, who is it thou lovest, fellow Onion? Oni. Marry, a poor man's daughter; but none of the honestest, I hope. of which he has made so pleasant an application. See vol. ?. p. 50. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 351 Chris. Why, wouMst thou not have her honest? Oni O no, for then I am sure she would not have me. 'Tis Rachel de Prie. Chris. Why she hath the name of a very virtu- ous maiden. Jun. So she is, sir ; but the fellow talks in quid d its, he. Chris. What wouldst thou have me do in the matter ? Oni Do nothing, sir, I pray you, but speak for me. Chris. In what manner? Oni. My fellow Juniper can tell you, sir. Jun. Why as thus, sir. Your worship may commend him for a fellow fit for consanguinity, and that he shaketh with desire of procreation, or so. Chris. That were not so good, methinks. Jun. No, sir! why so, sir? What if you should say to her, Corroborate thyself, sweet soul, let me distinguish thy paps with my fingers, di- vine Mumps, pretty Pastorella ! lookest thou so sweet and bounteous? comfort my friend here. Chris. Well, I perceive you wish I should say something may do him grace, and further his de- sires ; and that, be sure, I will. Oni. I thank you, sir; God save your life, I pray, sir. Jun. Your worship is too good to live long : you'll contaminate me no service. Chris. Command, thou wouldst say ; no, good Juniper. Jun. Health and wealth, sir. [Exeunt Onion and Juniper. Chris. This wench will I solicit for myself, Making my lord and master privy to it ; 352 THE CASE IS ALTERED. And if he second me with his consent, I will proceed, as having long ere this, Thought her a worthy choice to make my wife, [Exit. SCENE III. Another Room in the Same. Enter Aurelia, and Phoznixella. Aur. Room for a case of matrons, colour'd black. How motherly my mother's death hath made us ! I would I had some girls now to bring up. O I could make a wench so virtuous, She should say grace to every bit of meat, And gape no wider than a wafer's thickness ; And she should make French court'sies so most low, That every touch should turn her over backward. Phcen. Sister, these words become not your attire, Nor your estate ; our virtuous mother's death Should print more deep effects of sorrow in us, Thau may be worn out in so little time. Aur. Sister, i' faith, you take too much tobacco, It makes you black within, as you are without. What, true-stitch, sister! both your sides alike ! Be of a slighter work ; for of my word, You shall be sold as dear, or rather dearer. Will you be bound to customs and to rites ? Shed profitable tears, weep for advantage, Or else do all things as you are inclined : Eat when your stomach serves, saith the physician, Not at eleven and six. 3 So if your humour * Nvt at eleven and six."] The usual hours of dining and sup- ping, when this was written. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 353 Be now affected with this heaviness, Give it the reins, and spare not, as I do In this my pleasurable appetite. It is precisianism to alter that With austere judgment, that is given by nature. I wept, you saw too, when my mother died ; For then I found it easier to do so, And fitter with my mood, than not to weep: But now 'tis otherwise; another time Perhaps I shall have such deep thoughts of her, That I shall weep afresh some twelvemonth hence; And I will weep, if I be so disposed, And put on black as grimly then as now. Let the mind go still with the body's stature, Judgment is fit forjudges, give me nature. Enter Francisco Colonnia, and An gelo. Fran. See, signior Angelo, here are the ladies ; Go you and comfort one, I'll to the other. Ang. Therefore Icome, sir; I will to the eldest. God save you, ladies! these sad moods of yours, That make you choose these solitary walks, Are hurtful for your beauties. Aur. If we had them. Ang. Come, that condition might be for youj hearts, When you protest faith, since we cannot see them : But this same heart of beauty, your sweet face, Is in mine eye still. Aur. O, you cut my heart With your sharp eye. Ang. Nay, lady, that's not so, Your heart's too hard. Aur, My beauty's heart ? Ang. O no. vol. vi. A a 354 THE CASE IS ALTERED. I mean that regent of affection, madam, That tramples on all love with such contempt In this fair breast. Aur. No more, your drift is savour'd ; I had rather seem hard-hearted Ang. Than hard favour'd ; Is that your meaning, lady ? Aur. Go to, sir ; Your wits are fresh, I know, they need no spur. Ang, And therefore you will ride them. Aur. Say I do, They will not tire, I hope. Ang. No, not with you. Hark you, sweet lady. [Walks aside with Aur. Fran. Tis much pity, madam, You should have any reason to retain This sign of grief, much less the thing design'd. Phcen. Griefs are more fit for ladies than their pleasures. Fran. That is for such as follow nought but pleasures. But you that temper them so well with virtues, Using your griefs so, it would prove them pleasures ; And you would seem, in cause of griefs and pleasures, Equally pleasant. Phcen. Sir, so I do now. It is the excess of either that I strive So much to shun, in all my proved endeavours, Although perhaps, unto a general eye, I may appear most wedded to my griefs ; Yet doth my mind forsake no taste of pleasure, I mean that happy pleasure of the soul, Divine and sacred contemplation Of that eternal and most glorious bliss, Proposed as the crown unto our souls. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 355 Fran. I will be silent; yet that I may serve But as a decade in the art of memory, To put you still in mind of your own virtues, Whenyourtooseriousthoughts make you too sad, Accept me for your servant, honour'd lady. Phcen. Those ceremonies are too common, signior, For your uncommon gravity and judgment, And fit them only that are nought but ceremony. Ang. Come, I will not sue stalely to be your servant, But a new term, will you be my refuge ? [Comes forward with Aur. Aur, Your refuge! why, sir? Ang. That I might fly to you when all else fail me. Aur. An you be good at flying, be my plover. Ang. Nay, take away the P. Aur. Tut, then you cannot fly. Ang. I'll warrant you : I'll borrow Cupid's wings. Aur. Mass, then I fear me you will do strange things. I pray you blame me not, if I suspect you ; Your own confession simply doth detect you. Nay, an you be so great in Cupid's books, 'Twill make me jealous. You can with your looks, I warrant you, inflame a woman's heart, \ And at your pleasure take Love's golden dart, And wound the breast of any virtuous maid. Would I were hence ! good faith, I am afraid You can constrain one, ere they be aware, To run mad for your love. Ang. O, this is rare! Aa 2 356 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Enter count Fernese. Count F. Close with my daughters, gentlemen ! well done, Tis like yourselves : nay, lusty Angelo, Let not my presence make you baulk your sport; I will not break a minute of discourse 'Twixt you and one of your fair mistresses. Ang. One of my mistresses ! why thinks your lordship I have so many? Count F. Many ! no, Angelo, I do not think thou hast many ; some fourteen I hear thou hast, even of our worthiest dames Of any note, in Milan. Ang. Nay, good my lord, fourteen ! it is not so. Count F. By the mass that is't; here are their names to shew, Fourteen or fifteen to one. Good Angelo, You need not be ashamed of any of them, They are gallants all. Ang. 'Sblood ! you are such a lord. [Exit. Count F. Nay, stay, sweet Angelo, I am disposed A little to be pleasant past my custom He's gone, he's gone ! I have disgraced him shrewdly. Daughters, take heed of him, he's a wild youth; Look what he says to you, believe him not, He will swear love to every one he sees. Francisco, give them counsel, good Francisco, I dare trust thee with both, but him with neither. Fran. Your lordship yet may trust both them with him. Count F. Well, go your ways, away ! \Exeunt Aur, Phcen. and Francisco. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 357 Enter Christophero. How now, Christophero ! What news with you ? Chris* I have an humble suit to your good lordship. Count F. A suit, Christophero ! what suit, I prithee ? Chris. I would crave pardon at your lordship's hands, If it seem vain or simple in your sight. Count F. I'll pardon all simplicity, Christophero; What is thy suit? Chris. Perhaps, being now so old a batchelor, I shall seem half unwise, to bend myself In strict affection to a poor young maid. Count F. What, is it touching love, Christophero? Art thou disposed to marry ? why, 'tis well. Chris. Ay, but your lordship may imagine now, That I, being steward of your honour's house, If I be married once, will more regard The maintenance of my wife, and of my charge, Than the due discharge of my place and office. Count F. No, no, Christophero, I know thee honest. Chris. Good faith, my lord, your honour may suspect it; But Count F. Then I should wrong thee ; thou hast ever been Honest and true ; and wilt be still, I know. Chris. Ay, but this marriage alters many men, And you may fear it will do me, my lord ; But ere it do so, 1 will undergo Ten thousand several deaths. Count F. I know it, man. Who wouldst thou have, I prithee ? S58 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Chris. Rachel de Prie, If your good lordship grant me your consent. Count F. Rachel de Prie ! what, the poor beg- gar's daughter ? She's a right handsome maid, how poor soever, And thou hast my consent with all my heart. Chris. I humbly thankyourhonour; I'll nowask Her father. [Exit. CountF. Do so, Christophero ; thou shalt do well. Tis strange, she being so poor, he should affect her ! But this is more strange that myself should love her. I spied her lately at her father's door, And if I did not see in her sweet face Gentry and nobleness, ne'er trust me more ; But this persuasion fancy wrought in me, That fancy being created with her looks ; For where love is, he thinks his basest object Gentle and noble : I am far in love, And shall be forced to wrong my honest steward, For I must sue and seek her for myself. How much my duty to my late dead wife, And my own dear renown, soe'er it sways : I'll to her father strait, love hates delays. [Exit. SCENE IV. A Hall in the Same. t jEwter Onion, Juniper, Valentine, Sebastian, Balthasar, Martino. Oni. Come on, i'faith, let's to some exercise or other, my hearts. Fetch the hilts. [Exit Martino. Fellow Juniper, wilt thou play ? THE CASE IS ALTERED. 359 Jun. I cannot resolve you : 'tis as I am fitted with the ingenuity, quantity, or quality of the cudgel. Val. How dost thou bastinado the poor cudgel with terms ! Jun. O ingle, I have the phrases, man, and the anagrams, and the epitaphs, fitting the mystery of the noble science. Oni. I'll be hang'd an he were not misbegotten of some fencer. Seb. Sirrah, Valentine, you can resolve me now, have they their masters of defence in other countries, as we have here in Italy? Val. O Lord, ay; especially they in Utopia: 4 there they perform their prizes and challenges with as great ceremony as the Italian, or any nation else. Bal. Indeed! how is the manner of it, for God's love, good Valentine ? Jun. Ingle, I prithee make recourse unto us ; we are thy friends and familiars, sweet ingle. Val. Why thus, sir Oni. God a mercy, good Valentine; nay, go on. * Especially they in Utopia.] i. e. England. This is a curious picture of the state of the stage at this period. Jonson is less cynical here than in some of his subsequent remarks, but the substance of what he says is, in effect, much the same. He nerer stooped to flatter or cajole the audience, and it must not therefore be wondered at, that the u capricious gallants" (the leaders of the public judgment) repaid his plain dealing with interest, and sought all opportunities to discredit his dramatic efforts. It is evident, from the Apologue to the Poetaster, that he did not escape from this scene with impunity : but no per. sonal consideration could prevail on him to soften his strictures, or compromise the exalted character which he had formed in his fancy of the dramatic and ethic muse. 360 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Jun. Silentium, bonus socius Onionus, good fel- low Onion, be not so ingenious and turbulent. So, sir; and how? how, sweet ingle? Val. Marry, first they are brought to the pub- lic theatre Jun. What have they theatres there ? Val. Theatres! ay, and plays too, both tra- gedy and comedy, and set forth with as much state as can be imagined. Jun. By god's so, a man is nobody till he has travelled. Seb And how are their plays ? as ours are, ex- temporal? Val. Ono; all premeditated things, and some of them very good, i'faith ; my master used to visit them often when he was there. BaL Why how, are they in a place where any man may see them? Val. Ay, in the common theatres, I tell you. But the sport is at a new play, to observe the sway and variety of opinion that passeth it. A man shall have such a confused mixture of judgment, poured out in the throng there, as ridiculous as laughter itself. One says he likes not the writ- ing, another likes not the plot, another not the playing : and sometimes a fellow, that comes not there past once in five years, at a parliament time, or so, will be as deep mired in censuring as the best, and swear by god's foot he would never stir his foot to see a hundred such as that is. Oni. I must travel to see these things, I shall never think well of myself else. Jun. Fellow Onion, I'll bear thy charges, an thou wilt but pilgrimize it along with me to the land of Utopia. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 361 Seb. Whv, but methinks such rooks as these should be ashamed to judge. Val. Not a whit ; the rankest stinkard of them all will take upon him as preremptory, as it* he had writ himself in artibus magister. Seb. And do they stand to a popular censure for any thing they present? Val. Ay, ever, ever ; and the people generally are very acceptive, and apt to applaud any me- ritable work ; but there are two sorts of persons that most commonly are infectious to a whole auditory. ' Bal. What be they ? Jun. Ay, come, let's know them. Oni. It were good they were noted. Val. Marry, one is the rude barbarous crew, a people that have no brains, and yet grounded judgments ; these will hiss any thing that mounts above their grounded capacities ; but the other are worth the observation, i'faith. Onuies. What be they, what be they ? Val. Faith, a few capricious gallants. Jun. Capricious I stay, that word's for me. Val. And they have taken such a habit of dis- like in all things, that they will approve nothing, be it never so conceited or elaborate ; but sit dis- persed, making faces, and spitting, wagging their upright ears, and cry , filthy J filthy ! simply utter- ing their own condition, and using their wryed* * Using their wryed countenances instead of a vice.] We have this sentiment in the Induction to Every Man out of his Humours " Using his wryed looks, u In nature of a vice to wrest and turn u The good aspect of those that shall sit near him." - And this shews The Case is Altered to have been in the number 362 THE CASE IS ALTERED. countenances instead of a vice, to turn the good aspects of all that shall sit near them, from what they behold. Re-enter Martino with cudgels. Oni. O that's well said; lay them down; come, sirs, who plays? fellow Juniper, Sebastian, Balthasar? somebody take them up, come. Jun. Ingle Valentine. Val. Not I, sir, I profess it not. Jun. Sebastian. Seb\ Balthasar. Bal. Who, I ? Oni. Come, but one bout ; I'll give them thee, i'faith. Bal. Why, here's Martino. Oni. Foh, he ! alas, he cannot play a whit, man. Jun. That's all one ; no more could you in statu quo prius. Martino play with him; every man has his beginning and conduction. Mart. Will you not hurt me, fellow Onion ? Oni. Hurt thee ! no; an I do, put me among pot-herbs, and chop me to pieces. Come on. Jun. By your favour, sweet bullies, give them room, back, so ! Martino, do not look so thin upon the matter. [Mart, and Onion play a bout at cudgels. of Jonson's earliest productions; for we often find him repeat- ing a thought or expression in his later plays, which he had before made use of, in some former piece. Whal. Whalley's premises are better than his conclusion, which is somewhat whimsical. " If two men ride upon a horse, one must ride behind'' we all know : the Case is Altered, may there- fore ride before, as well as another. Indeed we learn from the dates of our author's respective plays, that it did so : but setting aside this, Whalley's*' pollusion'' like Goodman Dull's, " would not necessarily have held good in the exchange." THE CASE IS ALTERED. 363 Oni, Ha ! well play'd, fall over to my leg now : so, to your guard again ; excellent ! to my head now ; make home your blow ; spare not me, make it home, good, good again ! [Mart, breaks his head, Seb. Why how now, Peter ! Val. Odso, Onion has caught a bruise. Jun. Coragio ! be not capricious ; what ! Oni. Capricious ! not I, I scorn to be caprici- ous for a scratch, Martino, I must have another bout; come. Jun. No, no, play no more, play no more. Oni. Fob, tis nothing, a fillip, a device; fellow Juniper, prithee get me a plantain ; I had rather play with one that had skill by half. Mart. By my troth, fellow Onion, 'twas against my will. Oni. Nay, that's not so, 'twas against my head ; but come, we'll have one bout more. Jun, Not a bout, not a stroke. Omnes. No more, no more. [Exit Martino, Jun. Why, I'll give you demonstration how it came : thou open'dst the dagger to falsify over with the backsword trick, and he interrupted, before he could fall to the close- Oni. No, no, I know best how it was, better than any man here. I felt his play presently ; for look you, I gathered upon him thus, thus, do you see, for the double lock, and took it single on the head. Val. He says very true, he took it single * on the head. Seb. Come, let's go. * He took it single.'] i. e. weakly, simply, &c. vol. ii. p. 74. Foote has imitated this scene in his Commissary. 364 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Re-enter Martino with a cobweb. Mart. Here, fellow Onion, here's a cobweb. Oni. How! a cobweb, Martino! I will have another bout with you. 'S wounds, do you first break my head, and then give me a plaister in scorn ? Come, to it, I will have a bout. Mart. God's my witness. Oni. Tut ! your witness cannot serve. Jun. 'Sblood, why what! thou art not luna- tic, art thou ? an thou be'st, avoid, Mephos- tophilus ! Say the sign should be in Aries now, as it may be for all us, where were your life? answer me that? Seb. He says well, Onion. Val. Indeed does he. Jun. Come, come, you are a foolish natura- list; go, get a white of an egg, and a little flax,* Go, get a while of an egg and a Utile JlaxJ] In Lear a servant says that he will " fetch some flax and whites of eggs to apply to Gloster's bleeding face.'' " This passage (observes Steevens) is ridiculed by Ben Jonson in the Case is Altered, 1609. The date is not subjoined without cause; for as Lear was not written before l6'04 or l605, there is a chance that some may take the critic on his word. Now Steevens well knew, and has, indeed, expressly mentioned it in another place, that the Case is Altered, preceded King Lear by many years : the ridicule, therefore, if any there be, (which assuredly there isnot) isShakspeare's. But now comes Mr. Malone, (who is much too just to fabricate dates, or to conceal them for a bad purpose, but whose hatred of Jonson is so excessive that he will consent to avail himself of the insinuation which he would not make,) exposes Steevens's dishonesty with respect to the priority of the present drama ; but unwilling to lose a charge against Jonson, seeks to bolster up his crazy accusation by a supposition as full of malice, as the other is of falsehood. " The sneer at Shakspeare," he says, " though not originally there, might be introduced by Jonson between the appearance of King Lear and the publication of his own play.'' THE CASE IS ALTERED. 365 and close the breach of the head, it is the most conducible thing that can be. Martino, do not insinuate upon your good fortune, but play an honest part, and bear away the bucklers. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. The Street before Jaques de Prie's House. Enter Angelo. Ang. My young and simple friend, Paulo Ferneze, Bound me with mighty solemn conjurations To be true to him, in his love to Rachel ; And to solicit his remembrance still In his enforced absence. Much, i'faith ! ' True to my friend in cases of affection ! In women's cases ! what a jest it is, How silly he is that imagines it ? He is an ass that will keep promise strictly In any thing that checks his private pleasure, Chiefly in love. 'Sblood, am not I a man, Have I not eyes that are as free to look, And blood to be inflamed as well as his ? And when it is so, shall I not pursue And all this grovelling in baseness (for it is no better) is founded on a harmless allusion to a method of cure common, in Jonson's time, to every barber-surgeon and old woman in the kingdom. ^ . Much, i'faith /] This ironical use of the word much, as a term of disdain, hath been remarked before. Whal. Not of disdain surely ; but of strong doubt or negation. In this sense it has, indeed, occurred before, and in this sense it occurs in all our old writers. $66 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Mine own love's longings, but prefer my friends'? Ay, 'tis a good fool, do so ; hang me then. Because I swore ? alas, who does not know That lovers' perjuries are ridiculous? Have at thee, Rachel ; I'll go court her sure, For now I know her father is abroad 'Sblood, see, he's here. Enter Jaques. O what damn'd luck is this ! This labour's lost, I must by no means see him. Tau, dery, dtry. [Exit singing. Jag. Mischief and hell! what is this man ? a spirit ! Haunts he, my house's ghost, still at my door? He has been at my door, he has been in, In my dear door ; pray God my gold be safe ! Enter Christophero. Od's pity, here's another! Rachel ! ho, Rachel ! Chris. God save you, honest father. Jaq. Rachel ! odslight, come to me; Rachel ! Rachel ! [Exit. Chris. Now in God's name what ails he ? this is strange ! He loves his daughter so, I'll lay my life That he's afraid, having been now abroad, I come to seek her love unlawfully. Re-enter Jaques. Jaq. Tis safe, 'tis safe, they have not robb'd my treasure. [Aside. Chris. Let it not seem offensive to you, sir. THE CASE IS ALTERED. S67 Jaq. Sir I God's my life, sir ! sir ! call me sir / [Aside. Chris. Good father, hear me. Jaq. You are most welcome, sir; I meant almost : and would your worship speak, Would you abase yourself to speak to me? Chris. 'Tis no abasing, father : my intent Is to do further honour to you, sir, Than only speak ; which is, to be your son. Jaq. My gold is in his nostrils, he has smelt it ; Break breast, break heart, fall on the earth, my entrails, With this same bursting admiration ! He knows my gold, he knows of all my treasure [Aside. How do you know, sir? whereby do you guess? Chris. At what, sir? what is it you mean ? Jaq. I ask, An't please your gentle worship, how you know I mean, how I should make your worship know * Jaq. Sir ! God*s my life, sir ! sir ! call me sir f] The cha- racter of Jaques is formed upon that of Euclio in the Aulularia of Plautus : and is drawn with that masterly expression which distinguishes the works of Jonson. The scene between Chris- tophero and Jaques, with what follows between the count and him, is copied from what passes between Euclio and Megadorus ; but with so high an improvement, as determines the palm of applause in favour of our author. The original here is, Non temerarium est, ubi dives blande appellat pauperem. Whal. The translator of Plautus does not subscribe to the alleged su- periority of our author ; and I am not sure that he has not reason on his side. Whalley might commend the copy with justice, for it is truly excellent ; but he should not have sacrificed the ori- ginal to it. The spirit, and arch simplicity of Plautus even when it borders on rudeness, is not easily outdone; and though Jonson perhaps, is richer in circumstance, yet the critic should have recollected the admission of a very competent judge facile est inventis addere, and have abated somewhat of his pa. negyric on that score. S68 THE CASE IS ALTERED. That I have nothing To give with my poor daughter ? I have nothing : The very air, bounteous to every man, Is scant to me, sir. Chris. I do think, good father, You are but poor. Jaq. He thinks so ; hark ! but thinks so : He thinks not so, he knows of all my treasure. [Aside and exit. Chris. Poor man, he is so overjoy'd to hear His daughter may be past his hopes bestow'd, That betwixt fear and hope, if I mean simply, He is thus passionate. Re-enter Jaques. Jaq. Yet all is safe within : is none without? Nobody break my walls ? Chris. What say you, father, shall I have your daughter? Jaq. I have no dowry to bestow upon her. Chris. I do expect none, father. Jaq. That is well. Then I beseech your worship make no question Of that you wish ; 'tis too much favour to me. Chris. I'll leave him now to give his passions breath, Which being settled, I will fetch his daughter; I shall but move too much, to speak now to him. [Exit. Jaq. So ! he is gone ; would all were dead and gone, That I might live with my dear gold alone ! Enter count Ferneze. Count F. Here is the poor old man. Jaq. Out o' my soul, another i conies he hither? THE CASE IS ALTERED. 369 Count F. Be not dismay'd, old man, I come to cheer you. Jaq. To me, by heaven i Turn ribs to brass, turn voice into a trumpet, To rattle out the battles of my thoughts ; One comes to hold me talk, while t'other robs me. [Aside and exit. Count F. He has forgot me sure ; what should this mean? He fears authority, and my want of wife Will take his daughter from him to defame her: He that has nought on earth but one poor daughter, May take this extasy of care to keep her. Re-enter Jaques. Jaq. And yet 'tis safe : they mean not to use force, But fawning cunning. I shall easily know, By his next question, if he think me rich. [Aside, Whom see I ? my good lord ? Count F. Stand up, good father, I call thee not [good] father for thy age, But that I gladly wish to be thy son, In honour'd marriage with thy beauteous daugh- ter. Jaq. O, so, so, so, so, so ! this is for gold. Now it is sure this is my daughter'^ neatnesa Makes them believe me rich. [A'side.~\ No, my good lord, I'll tell you all, how my poor hapless daughter Got that attire she wears from top to toe. Count F. Why, father, this is nothing. Jaq. O yes, good my lord. Count F. Indeed it is not. Jaq. Nay, sweet lord, pardon me ; do not dis- semble ; vol. vi. B b 370 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Hear your poor beadsman speak : 'tis requisite That I, so huge a beggar, make account Of things that pass my calling. She was born To enjoy nothing underneath the sun ; But that, if she had more than other beggars, She should be envied : I will tell you then How she had all she wears. Her warm shoes, God wot, A kind maid gave her, seeing her go barefoot In a cold frosty morning ; God requite her ! Her homely stockings Count F. Father, Til hear no more, thou mov'st too much With thy too curious answer for thy daughter, That doth deserve a thousand times as much. I'll be thy son-in-law, and she shall wear The attire of countesses. Jaq. O, good my lord, Mock not the poor ; remembers not your lordship That poverty is the precious gift of God, As well as liches ? tread upon me, rather [Kneels. Than mock my poorness. Count F. Rise, I say ; When I mock poorness, then heaven make me poor. [Exit Jaques. Enter a Messenger. Mes. See, here's the count Ferneze, I will tell him The hapless accident of his brave son, That he may seek the sooner to redeem him. God save >our lordship ! Count F. You are right welcome, sir. Mes. I would I brought such news as might deserve it. Count F. What 1 bring you me ill news ? THE CASE IS ALTERED. 371 Mes. 'Tis ill, my lord, Yet such as usual chance of war affords, And for which all men are prepared that use it, And those that use it not but in their friends, Or in their children. Count F. Ill news of my son, My dear and only son, I'll lay my soul! Ah me accurs'd ! thought of his death doth wound me, And the repoit of it will kill me quite. Mes. 'lis not so ill, my lord. Count F. How then ? Mes. He's taken prisoner, And that is all. Count F. That is enough, enough ; I set my thoughts on love, on servile love, Forget my virtuous wife, feel not the dangers, The bands and wounds of mine own flesh and blood, And therein am a madman ; therein plagued With the most just affliction under heaven. Is Maximilian taken prisoner too? Mes. No, good my lord ; he is return'd with prisoners. Count F. Is't possible ! can Maximilian Return and view my face without my son, For whom he swore such care as for himself? Mes. My lord, no care can change the events of war. Count F. O, in what tempests do my fortunes sail ! Still wrack'd with winds more foul and contrary Than any northern gust, or southern flaw, That ever yet infbrced the sea to gape, And swallow the poor merchant's traffic up. First in Vicenza lost I my first son, Next here in Milan my most dear-loved lady, Bb2 572 THE CASE IS ALTERED. And now my Paulo prisoner to the French ; Which last being printed with my other griefs, Doth make so huge a volume, that my breast Cannot contain them. But this is my love ! I must make love to Rachel ! heaven hath thrown This vengeance on me most deservedly, Were it for nought but wronging of my steward. Mes. My lord, since only money may redress The worst of this misfortune, be not grieved ; Prepare his ransom, and your noble son Shall greet your cheered eyes with the more honour. Conut F. I will prepare his ransom ; gracious heaven Grant his imprisonment may be his worst, Honour'd and soldier-like imprisonment, And that he be not manacled and made A drudge to his proud foe ! And here I vow, Never to dream of seemless amorous toys, Nor aim at any other joy on earth, But the fruition of my only son. [Exeunt, SCENE II. A Court -yard> at the back of J aques* House. Enter Jaques with his gold> and a scuttle full of dung. 9 Jay. He's gone: I knew it; this is our hot lover, I will believe them, I J they may come in * This is from Plautus, where Euclio also removes his gold to a new hiding-place. The speeches of the two misers however, have no circumstance in common ; nor has the Latin poet any thing that can be set in comparison with this admirable and characteristic soliloquy of Jaques. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 373 Like simple wooers, and be arrant thieves, And I not know them ! 'Tis not to be told What servile villainies men will do for gold. r O it began to have a huge strong smell, With lying so long together in a place ; I'll give it vent, it shall have shift enough ; And if the devil, that envies all goodness, Have told them of my gold, and where I kept it, I'll set his burning nose once more a work, To smell where I removed it. Here it is ; I'll hide, and cover it with this horse dung. [Digs a hole in the ground. Who will suppose that such a precious nest Is crown'd with such a dunghill excrement? In, my dear life ! sleep sweetly, my dear child ! Scarce lawfully begotten, but yet gotten, And that's enough. Rot all hands that come near thee, Except mine own ! burn out all eyes that see thee, Except mine own ! all thoughts of thee be poison To their enamour'd hearts, except mine own! I'll take no leave, sweet prince, great emperor, But see thee every minute : king of kings, I'll not be rude to thee, and turn my back In going from thee, but go backward out, With my face toward thee, with humble cour- tesies. None is within, none overlooks my wall ; To have gold, and to have it safe, is all. [Exit. 374 THE CASE IS ALTERED. SCENE III. A Gallery in count Ferneze's House, Enter Maximilian with Soldiers, Chamont, Camillo, and Pacue. Max. Lord Chamont, and your valiant friend there, I cannot say, welcome to Milan ; your thoughts and that word are not musical ; but I can say, you are come to Milan. Pac. Mort dieu ' Cha. Garcon ! [Takes Pacue aside. Max. Gentlemen, (I would call an emperor so,) you are now my prisoners ; I am sorry : marry this, 6pit in the face of your fortunes, for your usage shall be honourable. Cam. We know it, signior Maximilian ; The fame of all your actions sounds nought else But perfect honour, from her swelling cheeks. Max. It shall do so still, I assure you, and I will give you reason: there is in this last action, you know, a noble gentleman of our party, and a right valiant, semblably prisoner to your general, as your honour'd selves to me ; for whose safety this tongue has given warrant to his honourable father, the count Ferneze. You conceive me ? Cam. Ay, signior. Max. Well, then I must tell you your ransoms be to redeem him. What think you? your answer. Cam. Marry, with my lord's leave here, I say, signior, This free and ample offer you have made Agrees well with your honour, but not ours; For I think not but Chamont is as well born THE CASE IS ALTERED. 375 As is Ferneze ; then, if I mistake not, He scorns to have his worth so underprised, That it should need an adjunct in exchange Of any equal fortune. Noble signior, I am a soldier, and I love Chamont; Ere I would bruise his estimation With the least ruin of mine own respect In this vile kind, these legs should rot with irons, This body pine in prison, till the flesh Dropt from my bones in flakes, like wither'd leaves, In heart of autumn, from a stubborn oak. Max. Monsieur Gasper, (I take it so is your name,) misprise me not; 1 will trample on the heart, on the soul of him that shall say I will wrong you : what I purpose you cannot now know, but you shall know, and, doubt not, to your contentment. Lord Chamont, I will leave you, whilst I go in and present myself to the honour- able count; till my regression, so please you, your noble feet may measure this private, plea- sant, and most princely walk. Soldiers, regard them and respect them. [Exit. Pac. O ver bon ! excellenta gull, he taka my lord Chamont for monsieur Gaspra, and monsieur Gaspra for my lord Chamont. Oh dis be brave for make a me laugha, ha, ha, ha ! O, my heart tickla. [Aside, Cam. Ay, but your lordship knows not what hard fate Might have pursued us, therefore, howsoe'er, The changing of our names was necessary, And we must now be careful to maintain This error strongly, which our own device Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits; For should we (on the taste of this good fortune) Appear ourselves, 'twould both create in them 376 THE CASE IS ALTERED. A kind of jealousy, and perchance invert Those honourable courses they intend. Cha. True, my dear Gasper; but this hang- by here Will, at one time or other, on my soul, Discover us. A secret in his mouth Is like a wild bird put into a cage, Whose door no sooner opens, hut 'tis out. But, sirrah, if I may but know thou utter'st it Pac. Uttera vat, monsieur ? Cha. That he is Gasper, and I true Chamont. Pac. O pardonnez moy, fore my tongue shall put out de secreta, shall breed de cankra in my mouth. Cam. Speak not so loud, Pacue. Pac. Foh ! you shall not hear de fool, for all your long ear. Regardez, monsieur : you be Cha- mont, Chamont be Gaspra. Re-enter Maximilian with count FERKEZE y Fran- cisco, Aurelia, Phcenixella, and Finio. Cha. Peace, here comes Maximilian. Cam. O, belike That is the count Ferneze, that old man. Cha. Are those his daughters, trow ? Cam. Ay sure, I think they are. Cha. Fore God, the taller is a gallant lady. Cam. So are they both, believe me. Max. True, my honourable lord, that Chamont was the father of this man. Count F. O that may be, for when I lost my son, This was but young, it seems. Fran. Faith, had Camillo lived, He had been much about his years, my lord. Count F. He had indeed ! Well, speak no more of him. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 377 Max. Signior, perceive you the error ? 'twas no good office in us to stretch the remembrance of so dear a loss. Count Ferneze, let summer sit in your eye ; look cheerfully, sweet count; will you do me the honour to confine this noble spirit within the circle of your arms ? Count F. Honour'd Chamont, reach me your valiant hand ; I could have wish'd some happier accident Had made the way unto this mutual knowledge, Which either of us now must take of other; But since it is the pleasure of our fates, That we should thus be rack'd on fortune's wheel, Let us prepare with steeled patience To tread on torment, and with minds confirm'd, Welcome the worst of envy. Max. Noble lord, 'tis thus. I have here, in mine honour, set this gentleman free, without ransom : he is now himself, his valour hath de- served it, in the eye of my judgment Monsieur Gasper, you are dear to me : for tuna non mutat genus. But, to the main ; if it may square with your lordship's liking, and his love, I could desire that he were now instantly employed to your noble general in the exchange of Ferneze for yourself; it is a business that requires the tender hand of a friend. Count F. Ay, and it would be with more speed effected, If he would undertake it. Max. True, my lord. Monsieur Gasper, how stand you affected to this motion ? Cha. My duty must attend his lordship's will. Max. What says the lord Chamont ? Cam. My will doth then approve what these have urged. Max. Why there is good harmony, good music 378 THE CASE IS ALTERED. in this. Monsieur Gasper, you shall protract no time, only I will give you a bowl of rich wine to the health of your general, another to the success of your journey, and a third to the love of my sword. Pass. \ Exeunt all but Aur. and Phoenix. Aur. Why, how now, sister ! in a motley muse ? Go to, there's somewhat in the wind, I see. Faith, this brown study suits not with your black, Your habit and your thoughts are of two colours. Phccn. Good faith, methinks that this young lord Chamont Favours my mother, sister ; does he not? Aur. A motherly conceit; O blind excuse, Blinder than Love himself! Well, sister, well; Cupid has ta'en his stand in both your eyes, The case is altered. Phcen. And what of that ? Aur. Nay, nothing: But, a saint! Another Bridget ! one that for a face Would put down Vesta, in whose looks doth swim The very sweetest cream of modesty, You, to turn tippet ! * fie, fie ! Will you give You to turn tippet !] This phrase, like that of turn Turk, implies a change of conduct, condition, &c. anil generally (when applied to females) from that of a single to a married state. Thus, in the Merry Dexil oj Edmonton : " Well, to be brief, the Nun will soon at night turn tippet ; if I can but devise to quit her clearly of the Nunnery, she is mine !" Old Plays, vol. v. p. 283. Neither DodsK'v nor Reed appears to have been aware of the sense of the pass-ge, for they have printed it, M turn Lippit," as if it wore a proper name. The expression occurs also in Beaumont and Fletcher, where Dorothea sa^s to her wild brother: i " You must turn tippet. And suddenly, and tiuly, and discreetly, Put on the shape of order,'' &c. M >ns. Thomas, A. ii. S. 2. This passage, as it was not to be found in the index to Dodsley, or the Variorum Shakspeare, is passed over in silence THE CASE IS ALTERED. 379 A packing penny to virginity ? I thought you'd dwell so long in Cypres isle, You'd worship madam Venus at the length: 3 But come, the strongest fall, and why not you ? Nay, do not frown. Pharn. Go, go, you fool. Adieu ! [Exit. Aur. Well, I may jest, or so; but Cupid knows My taking is as bad, or worse than hers. O, monsieur Gasper, if thou be'st a man, Be not afraid to court me ; do but speak, Challenge thy right, and wear it; for I swear, Till thou arriv'dst, ne'er came affection here. [Esif. ACT IV. SCENE I. A Room in count Ferneze's House. Enter Pacue and Finio. Fin. Come on, my sweet finical Pacue, the very prime of pages, here's an excellent place for us to practise in ; nobody sees us here ; come, let's to it. by the last editor, though it seems nearly as worthy of expla- nation as " carriage, behaviour,'' or even as ' ever, always." a / thought you'd dwell so long in Cypres isle, You'd worship madam Venus, &c.J This is a play on words between Cypres, (or Cyprus,) the black gauze in which Phoenixclla was dressed, and the island where Venus was peculiarly worshipped. Our old writers made no distinction in the orthography of the two words. This laxity of spelling, which was common to them all, in a greater or less degree, was the fruitful source of most of their puns. J80 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Enter Onion. Pac. Contenta ; Regardez vous le premier. Oni. Sirrah, Finio, Pac. MortcHeu, lepaisant! Oni. Didst thou see Valentine ? Pin. Valentine ! no. Oni. No ! Fin. No. Sirrah Onion, whither goest ? Oni. O, I am vext; he that would trust any of these lying travellers. Fin. I prithee stay, good Onion. Pac. Monsieur Onion, venez ca, come hidera, je vous prie. By gar, me ha see two, tree, four hundra tousand of your cousan hang. Lend me your hand, shall pray for know you bettra. Oni. I thank you, good signior Parlez-vous. O that I were in another world, in the Ingies, or somewhere, that I might have room to laugh ! 3 Pac. Ah, oui, fort bien ! stand, you dere now, me come, Bon jour, monsieur. 4 3 that I -were in the Ingies now, that I might hate room to 1avgh.~] It appears that the two pages, Pacue and Finio, (the representatives of the French and Italian modes of courtship,) are introduced practising, that is caricaturing, the fashions of the two countries. The grimaces and extravagant gestures of these polite gentlemen were doubtless highly amusing to those who, like Onion, had the good fortune to witness them ; but they are quite lost upon us for want of a perpetual commentary, which, to say the truth, to be useful must, like many other commentaries, have far exceeded the text. This solemn buffoonery, however, must have been very ac- ceptable to the people; for it is the ground work of the fasti- dious and fantastic modes of salutation which Jonson afterwards enlarged upon in Cynthia's Revels. See vol. ii. p. 339. Bon jour, monsieur.^ Here the old copy has a marginal note " Under the arm." What it means I know not, unless it be THE CASE IS ALTERED. 381 Fin. Good morrow, good signior. Pac By gar, me be much glad for see you. Fin. I return you most kind thanks, sir. Oni. How, how ! 'sblood this is rare. Pac. Nay, shall make you say rare, by and by ; reguardez : monsieur Finio. Fin. Signior Pacue. Pac. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Fin. God save you, sweet signior. Pac. Monsieur Onion, is not fort bien? Oni. Bean, quoth he ! would I were in debt of a pottle of beans, I could do as much! Fin. Welcome, signior: what's next? Pac. O here ; voyez de grand admiration, as should meet perchance monsieur Finio. Fin. Monsieur Pacue. Pac. By gar, who think we shall meete here ? Fin. By this hand, I am not a little proud of it, sir. Oni. This trick is only for the chamber, it cannot be cleanly done abroad. Pac. Veil, vat say you for dis den, monsieur? Fin, Nay, pray, sir. Pac. Par ma foy, vous voila bien encountr ! Fin. What do you mean, sir? let your glove alone. Pac. Comment se porte la sant6? Fin. Faith, exceeding well, sir. Pac. Trot, be mush joy for hear. Fin. And how is it with you, sweet signior Pacue ? making a profound bow, and conveying the hat, with the right hand, under the left arm, while perpendicular to the floor. Just below, there is a second note, " The shoulder," of which I understand as little as of the former. The reader sees that Pacue and his friend are exhibiting the ceremonious greeting of an accidental rencontre. 382 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Pac. Fait, com me vous voyez. Oni. Young gentlemen, spirits of blood, if ever you'll taste of a sweet piece of mutton, do Onion a good turn now. Pac. Que, que? parlez, monsieur, vatist? Oni. Faith, teach me one of these tricks. Pac. O me shall do presently; stand you dere, you signior dere, myself is here ; so, fort bien ! now I parlez to monsieur Onion, Onion pratla to you, you speaka to me, so : and as you parlez, change the bonet. Monsieur Onion ! Oni. Monsieur Finio ! Fin. Monsieur Pacue ! Pac. Pray be covera. Oni. Nay, I beseech you, sir. Fin. What do you mean r Pac, Pardonuez moi, shall be so. Oni. O Lord, sir ! Fin. Not I, in good faith, sir. Pac. By gar, you must. Oni. It shall be yours. Fin. Nay, then you wrong me. Oni. Well, an ever I come to be great Pac. You be big enough for de Onion already. Oni, I mean a great man. Fin. Then thou'dst be a monster. Oni. Well, God knows not what fortune may do, command me, use me from the soul to the crown, and the crown to the soul ; meaning not only from the crown of the head, and the sole of the foot, but also the foot of the mind and the crowns of the purse. I cannot stay now, young gentlemen ; but time was> time is, and time shall be, [Exeunt. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 385 SCENE II. Another Room in the Same. Enter Chamont and Camillo. Cha. Sweet Gasper, I am sorry we must part; But strong necessity enforces it. Let not the time seem long unto my friend, Till my return ; for, by our love I swear, (The sacred sphere wherein our souls are knit,) I will endeavour to effect this business With all industrious care and happy speed. Cam. My lord, these circumstances would come well To one less capable of your desert Than I ; in whom your merit is confirm'd With such authentical and grounded proofs. Cha. Well, I will use no more. Gasper, adieu. Cam. Farewell, my honour'd lord. Cha. Commend me to the lady, my good Gasper. Cam. I had rememberd that, had not you urged it. Cha Once more adieu, sweet Gasper. Cam. My good lord. [Exit. Cha. Thy virtues are more precious than thy name ; Kind gentleman, I would not sell thy love For all the earthly objects that mine eyes Have ever tasted. Sure thou art nobly born, However fortune hath obscured thy birth ; For native honour sparkles in thine eyes. How may I bless the time wherein Chamont, My honour'd father, did surprise Vicenza, 384 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Where this my friend (known by no name) was found, Being then a child, and scarce of power to speak, To whom my father gave this name of Gasper, And as his own respected him to death ; Since when we two have shared our mutual for- tunes With equal spirits, and, but death's rude hand, No violence shall dissolve this sacred band. [Exit. SCENE III. Juniper is discovered in his shop, singing. Enter Onion. Onu Fellow Juniper, no more of thy songs and sonnets; sweet Juniper, no more of thy hymns and madigrals; thou sing'st, but I sigh. Jun. What's the matter, Peter, ha? what, in an academy still ! still in sable and costly black array, ha? Oni. Prithee rise, mount, mount, sweet Juniper; for I go down the wind, and yet I puff, for lam vext. Jun. Ha, bully, vext ! what, intoxicate! is thy brain in a quintessence, an idea, a metamorphosis, an apology, ha, rogue? Come, this love feeds upon thee, I see by thy cheeks, and drinks healths of vermilion tears, I see by thine eyes. Oni. I confess Cupid's carouse, he plays super negulum with my liquor of life. 5 5 He plays super negulum with my liquor of life.] i. e. drinkf it all up : the allusion is to the custom of topers, who, to prove that they had emptied the cup, turned it bottom up, poured the last drop on their thumb nail, (super unguium, as the phrase was,) and tupt it off. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 385 Jun. Tut, thou art a goose to be Cupid's gull ; go to ; no more of these contemplations and cal- culations ; mourn not, for Rachel's thine own. Oni. For that let the higher powers work ; but, sweet Juniper, I am not sad for her, and yet for her in a second person, or if not so, yet in a third. Jun. How, second person ! away, away. In thy crotchets already ! longitude and latitude ! what second, what person, ha ? Oni. Juniper, I'll bewray myself before thee, for thy company is sweet unto me ; but I must intreat thy helping hand in the case. Jun. Tut, no more of this surquedry; I am thine own ad unguem, upsie freeze, pell mell ; come, what case, what case ? Oni. For the case, it maybe any man's case, as well as mine. Rachel I mean ; but I'll meddle with her anon : in the mean time, Valentine is the man hath wronged me. Jun. How, my ingle wrong thee ! is't possible? Oni. Your ingle ! hang him, infidel. Well, and if I be not revenged on him, let Peter Onion (by the infernal gods) he turned to a leek, or a scallion. I spake to him for a ditty for this hand- kerchief. Jun. Why, has he not done it? Oni. Done it? not a verse, by this hand. Jun. O in diebus illis ! O preposterous ! well, come, be blithe; the best inditer of them all is sometimes dull. FellowOnion, pardon mine ingle; he is a man has imperfections and declinations, as other men have ; his muse sometimes cannot curvet, nor prognosticate and come off, as it should ; no matter, I'll hammer out a paraphrase for thee myself. Oni. No, sweet Juniper, no; danger doth breed vol. vi. C c 386 , THE CASE IS ALTERED. delay : love makes me choleric, I can bear no longer. Jun. Not bear what, my mad meridian slave ? not bear what? Oni. Cupid's burthen ; 'tis too heavy, too tole- rable ; and as for the handkerchief and the posie, I will not trouble thee ; but if thou wilt go with me into her father's back-side, old Jaques' back- side, and speak for me to Rachel, I will not be ingratitude : the old man is abroad and all. Jun. Art thou sure on't ? Oni As sure as an obligation. Jun. Let's away then ; come, we spend time in a vain circumference ; trade, I cashier thee till to morrow: fellow Onion, for thy sake I finish this workiday. Oni. God-a-mercy ; and for thy sake I'll at any time make a holiday. [Exeunt, SCENE IV. The Court-yard at the back of Jaques' House. Enter Angelo and Rachel. Ang. Nay, I prithee, Rachel ; I come to com- fort thee, Be not so sad. Rach. O, signior Angelo, No comfort but his presence can remove This sadness from my heart. Ang. Nay, then you are fond, And want that strength of judgment and election That should be attendant on your years and form. Vi ill you, because your lord is taken prisoner, THE CASE IS ALTERED. 387 Blubber and weep, and keep a peevish stir, As though you would turn turtle with the news. Come, come, be wise, 'Sblood, say your lord should die, And you go mar your face as you begin, What would you do, trow ? who would care for you? But this it is, when nature will bestow Her gifts on such as know not how to use them ; You shall have some, that had they but one quarter Of your fair beauty, they would make it shew A little otherwise than you do this, Or they would see the painter twice an hour ; And I commend them, I, that can use art With such judicial practice. Rack. You talk idly; If this be your best comfort, keep it still, My senses cannot feed on such sour cates. Ang. And why, sweet heart ? Rack. Nay, leave, good signior. Ang. Come, I have sweeter viands yet in store. Jun. \withinJ\ Ay, in any case. Mistress Rachel ! Ang. Rachel ! Rack. Od's pity, signior Angelo, I hear my father; away for God's sake. Ang. 'Sblood, I am bewitch'd, I think ; this is twice now I have been served thus. [Exit. Rack. Pray God he meet him not. [Exit. Enter Onion and Juniper. Oni. O brave! she's yonder: O terrible! she's gone. Jun. Yea, so nimble in your dilemmas, and your hyperboles ! Hey my love f O my love ! at the first sight, by the mass. CcS 388 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Oni. O how she scudded ! () sweet scud, how she tripped ! O delicate trip and go ! Jun Come, thou art enamoured with the in- fluence of her profundity ; but, sirrah, hark a little. Oni. O rare ! what, what ? passing, i' faith ! what is't, what is't ? Jun. What wilt thou say now, if Rachel stand now, and play hity-tity through the key-hole, to behold the equipage of thy person ? Oni. O sweet equipage! try, good Juniper, tickle her, talk, talk ; O rare ! Jun. Mistress Rachel ! watch then if her father come [Goes to the door."] Rachel! Madona! Rachel ! No ? Oni. Say I am here ; Onion, or Peter, or so. Jun. No, I'll knock ; we'll not stand upon horizons and tricks, but fall roundly to the matter. Oni. Well said, sweet Juniper. Horizons, hang 'em ! knock, knock. [Juniper knocks. Rach. [within.] Who's there? father ? Jun. Father ! no ; and yet a father, if you please to he a mother. Oni. Well said, Juniper ; to her again ; a smack or two more of the mother. Jun. Do you hear, sweet soul, sweet Radamant, sweet Machavel? one word, Melpomene, are you at leisure ? Rach. [within."] At leisure ! what to do ? Jun. To do what ! to do nothing, but to be liable to the extacy of true love's exigent, or so ; you smell my meaning. Oni. Smell ! filthy, fellow Juniper, filthy 1 smell! O most odious ! Jun. How, filthy ? Oni. Filthy, by this finger ! Smell ! smell a rat, smell a pudding. Away, these tricks are for THE CASE IS ALTERED. 389 trulls; a plain wench loves plain dealing; I'll upon her myself. Smell! to a marchpane wench? Jun. With all my heart: I'll he legitimate and silent as an apple-squire; Til see nothing, and say nothing. Oni. Sweet heart ! sweet heart ! Jun. And bag pudding, ha, ha, ha ! Jaq. [within.] What, Rachel, my girl! what, Rachel ! Oni. Od's lid. Jaq. [within ] What, Rachel ! Rach. [within.] Here I am. OnL What rakehell calls Rachel? O treason to my love ! Jun. It is her father, on my life ; how shall we intrench and edify ourselves from him ? Oni, O coney-catching Cupid ! [Gets up into a tree* Enter Jaques. Jaq. How, in my back-side ! where? what come they for ? Where are they ? Rachel ! thieves ! thieves ! Stay, villain, slave ! [Seizes Jun. as he is running out.] Rachel, untie my dog. Nay, thief, thou canst not 'scape. Jun. I pray you, sir. 6 This too is from the Aulularia ; where Strobilus gets up into a tree to watch Euclio. The motive however is different. In Plautus the discovery of the treasure is the prime object ; in Jonson, it is merely incidental, and forms no necessary part of the plot. Racial might have obtained a husband had Jaques been as poor as eTery one thought him ; whereas the Lar kindly informs us in the prologue, that the treasure was ex- pressly bestowed on Euclio, that he might be enabled to give a marriage portion with his daughter to a youth of quality, who, at the stage.custom was, earn compnsserat. 390 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Oni. [above.] Ah, pitiful Onion, that thou hadst a rope ! Jag. Why, Rachel, when, I say ! let loose my dog, Garlick, my mastiff, let him loose, I say. Jun. For God's sake hear me speak, keep up your cur. Oni. [above.] I fear not Garlick, he'll not bite Onion, his kinsman ; pray God he come out, and then they'll not smell me. Jaa. Well then deliver; come, deliver, slave. Jun. What should I deliver? Jag. O thou wouldst have me tell thee, wouldst thou ? Shew me thy hands, what hast thou in thy hands ? Jun. Here be my hands. Jag. Stay, are thy fingers' ends begrimed with dirt ? no, thou hast wiped them. Jun. Wiped them I Jag. Ay, thou villain ; thou art a subtle knave. Put off thy shoes ; come, I will see them ; r give me a knife here, Rachel, I'll rip the soles. Oni. [above.] No matter, he's a cobler, he can mend them. Jun. What, are you mad, are you detestable ? 7 Jun. Wiped them .'] Jaq. Ay, thou villain; thou art a subtle knave. Put of thy shoes ; come, I will see them.'] This scene is an imitation of that in which Strobiius is examined by the miser. But its pleasantries are within the bounds of nature ; and severer judgment in- structed Jonson not to outrage his characters, as Plautus did before him. Jaques examines both the hands of Juniper, but he does not, like Euclio, bid him produce his third hand : Euc. Ostende hue menus. Strob. Hem tibi oslendi, eccas. Euc. Videoy age ostende etiam iertiam. No degree of avarice could lead one to suppose, that a man has three hands. Wuau THE CASE IS ALTERED. 391 would you make an anatomy of me ? think you I am not true orthography ? Jaq. Orthography ! anatomy ! Jun. For God's sake be not so inviolable, I am no ambuscado. What predicament call you this r why do you intimate so much ? Jaq. I can feel nothing. Oni. [above] By'r lady, but Onion feels some- thing. Jaq Soft, sir, you are not yet gone ; shake your legs, come; and your arms, be brief: stay, let me see these drums, these kilderkins, these bombard slops, what is it crams them so ? Jun. Nothing but hair. Jaq. That's true, I had almost forgot this rug, this hedgehog's nest, this hay-mow, this bear's skin, this heath, this furze-bush. [Palls him by the hair. Jun. O, let me go ! you tear my hair, you revolve my brains and understanding. Jaq. Heart, thou art somewhat eased ; half of my fear Hath ta'en his leave of me, the other half Still keeps possession in despight of hope, Until these amorous eyes court my fair gold. Dear, I come to thee. [Aside,] Fiend, why art not gone ? Avoid, my soul's vexation ! Satan, hence ! Why dost thou stare on me ? why dost thou stay, Why por'st thou on the ground with thievish eyes ? What seest thou there, thou cur, what gap'st thou at? Hence from my house. Rachel, send Garlick forth. Jun, I am gone, sir, I am gone ; for God's sake, stay. [Exit, 392 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Jaq. Pack ; and thank God thou scap'st so well away. Oni. [above.'] If I scape this tree, destinies I defy you. Jaq. I cannot see, by any characters Writ on this earth, that any felon foot Hath ta'en acquaintance of this hallow'd ground. None sees me: knees, do homage to your lord. [Kneels down and removes the dung from his treasure. 'Tis safe ! 'tis safe ! it lies and sleeps so soundly, 'T would do one good to look on't. If this bliss Be given to any man that hath much gold, Justly to say 'to safe, I say 'tis safe. O ! what a heavenly round these two words dance Within me and without me ! first I think them ; And then I speak them ; then I watch their sound, And drink it greedily with both mine ears : Then think, then speak, then drink their sound again, And racket round about this body's court, These two sweet words, 'tis safe. Stay, I will feed My other senses. [Takes up some of the gold and smells to it.] O how sweet it smells ! Oni. [above.] I marie he smells not Onion, being so near it. Jaq, Down to thy grave again, thou beauteous ghost ! Angels, men say, are spirits ; spirits be Invisible , bright angels, are you so ? Be you invisible to every eye, Save only these : sleep, I'll not break your rest, Though you break mine. Dear saints, adieu, adieu ! My feet part from you, but my soul dwells with you* [Rises and exit. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 393 Oni. Is he gone ? O Fortune my friend, and not Fortune my foe, I come down to embrace thee, and kiss thy great toe. [Comes down from the tree. Re-enter Juniper. Jun. Fellow Onion ! Peter ! Oni. Fellow Juniper. Jun. What's the old Panurgo gone, departed, cosmografied, ha ? Oni. O, ay ! and hark, sirrah. Shall I tell him ? no. Jun, Nay, be brief, and declare; stand not upon conundrums now : thou knowest what con- tagious speeches I have suffered for thy sake : an he should come again and invent me here Oni. He says true, it was for my sake : I will tell him. Sirrah, Juniper ! -and yet I will not. Jun, What sayst thou, sweet Onion ? Oni. An thou hadst smelt the scent of me when I was in the tree, thou wouldst not have said so ; but, sirrah, the case is altered with me, my heart has given love a box of the ear, made him kick up the heels, i'faith. Jun. Sayst thou me so, mad Greek ! how haps it, how chances it ? Oni. I cannot hold it. Juniper, have an eye, look ; have an eye to the door ; the old proverb's true, I see, Gold is but muck. Nay, god's so, Juniper, to the door; an eye to the main chance. [Removes the dung, and shews him the gold.] Here, you slave, have an eye ! Jun. O inexorable! O infallible ; O intricate, divine, and superficial fortune ! Oni. Nay, it will be sufficient anon; here, look here ! 354 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Jun. O insolent good luck ! how didst thou produce the intelligence of the gold minerals? Oni. I'll tell you that anon ; here, make shift, convey, cram. I'll teach you how you shall call for Garlick again, i'faith. Jun. 'Sblood, what shall we do with all this? we shall never bring it to a consumption. Oni. Consumption ! why we'll be most sump- tuously attired, man. Jun. By this gold, I will have three or four most stigmatical suits presently. Oni. I'll go in my foot-cloth, I'll turn gen- tleman. 8 Jun. So will I. Oni. But what badge shall we give, what cullison ? 8 Oni. Pll go in my font-cloth ; /'// turn gentleman."] i. e. I'll have my horse dress'd in his caparisons and housings, as gentlemen use to ride ; and hence they (the horses, I presume,) were called foot-cloth nags. 'What badge shall we give, what cullison ? So in Every Man out of his Humour, " I'll give coats, that's my humour: but I lack a cullisen." It seems to be something relative to a coat of arms, or a crest to point out whose livery the servants wore ; but if it ever was a term in heraldry, it is no longer in use, and now unknown to the heralds themselves. Whal. This is the second time that Whalley has stumbled at this trite word. See vol. ii. p. 36. Surely it was as easy to discover cognizance under cullison, as scutcheon under gudgeon : but he wanted an Onion to interpret for him. In a humorous production called the Owles Almanack for 1617, cullison is repeatedly used for badge or cognizance. ' A blew coat," (a servant's) " without a cullizon will be like hal- berdine without mustard." p. 39. Again : " All the cullizons (crests or badges) in the zodiac, drew their pedigree from some animal, &c. p. 12. Thus too the pedlar, in the Love-sick King, by Antony Brewer : " Then will I have fifty beadsmen, and on their gowns their cullisance shall be six Millan needles." It may now be hoped that the meaning of the term is finally settled. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 395 Jun. As for that, let's use the infidelity and commiseration of some harrot of arms, he shall give us a gudgeon. Oni. A gudgeon ! a scutcheon thou wouldst say, man. Jun. A scutcheon, or a gudgeon, all is one. Oni. Well, our arms he good enough, let's look to our legs. Jun. Content ; we'll be jogging. Oni. Rachel, we retire; Garlick, god b'ye. Jun. Farewell, sweet Jaques ! Oni. Farewell, sweet Rachel ! sweet dog, adieu! [Exeunt. SCENE V. ' A Room in count Ferneze's House. Enter Maximilian, count Ferneze, Aurelia, Phcenixella, and Pacue. Max. Nay, but sweet count. Count F. Away ! I'll hear no more ; Never was man so palpably abused : My son so basely marted, and myself Am made the subject of your mirth and scorn. Max. Count Ferneze, you tread too hard upon my patience ; do not persist, I advise your lordship. Count F. I will persist, and unto thee I speak ; Thou, Maximilian, thou hast injured me. Max. Before the Lord Aur. Sweet signior. Phcen. O my father. Max, Lady, let your father thank your beauty. $96 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Pac. By gar, me shall be hang for tella dis same ; me tella mademoiselle, she tell her fadera. Count F. The true Chamont set free, and one left here Of no descent, clad barely in his name ! Sirrah, boy, come hither, and be sure you speak the simple truth. Pac. O pardonnez moy, monsieur. Count F. Come, leave your pardons, and di- rectly say, What villain is the same that hath usurp'd The honour'd name and person of Chamont. Pac O, monsieur, no point villain, brave chevalier, monsieur Gasper. Count F. Monsieur Gasper ! On what occasion did they change their names, What was their policy, or their pretext? Pac. Me canno tell, par ma foy, monsieur. Max. My honourable lord ! Count F. Tut, tut, be silent. Max. Silent, count Ferneze ! I tell thee, if Amurath, the great Turk, were here, I would speak, and he should hear me. Count F. So will not I. Max. By my father's hand, but thou shalt, count. I say, till this instant I was never touched in my reputation. Hear me, you shall know that you have wrong'd me, and I will make you ac- knowledge it ; if I cannot, my sword shall. Count F. By heaven I will not, I will stop mine ears, My senses loath the savour of thy breath; 'Tis poison to me; I say, I will not hear. "What shall I know ? 'tis you have injured me. What will you make ? make me acknowledge it ! THE CASE IS ALTERED. 397 Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit. I'll make him to your face approve your wrongs. Enter Servants with Camillo. Come on, false substance, shadow to Chamont,' Had you none else to work upon but me? Was I your fittest project ? well, confess What you intended by this secret plot, And by whose policy it was contrived. Speak truth, and be intreated courteously ; But double with me, and resolve to prove The extremest rigour that I can inflict. Cam. My honour'd lord, hear me with patience; Nor hope of favour, nor the fear of torment, Shall sway my tongue from uttering of truth. Count F. Tis well, proceed then. 9 Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit. Enter Servants with Camillo. Come on, false substance, shadow to Chamont.] The whole incident of Paulo Ferneze's being taken prisoner on the one side, and Chamont and Camillo on the other, with the exchang- ing their names, and Camillo's being left for Chamont, is taken from the Captivi of Plautus. The son of Hegio is taken prisoner ; and with a view to ransom his son by the exchange, Hegio buys Philocrates and Tyndarus, two Elian captives. Tyndarus is slave to Philocrates, and is left under his master's name, while the true Philocrates is sent to Elis, under the name of Tyndarus, to effect the liberty of Philoptolemus the son of Hegio. The fraud however is discovered to Hegio, before the return of Phi- locrates ; and Tyndarus is put to the torture, and sent to the mines. At the return of Philoptolemus and Philocrates, with whom also there comes Stalagmus, a fugitive slave of Hegio, it is discovered that Tyndarus is the son of Hegio, who was car* ried away by Stalagmus at the age of four years, and sold by him to the father of Philocrates. The reader will perceive from this account, the exact similitude between the copy and the original ; and I have been thus particular in pointing out the resemblance, for the assistance of those who may want the ability of comparing them together. Whal. 398 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Cam. The morn before this battle did begin, Wherein my lord Chamont and I were ta'en, We vow'd one mutual fortune, good or bad, That day should be embraced of us both; And urging that might worse succeed our vow, We there concluded to exchange our names. Count F. Then Maximilian took you for Chamont ? Cam. True, noble lord. Count F. Tis false, ignoble wretch ; Twas but a complot to betray my son. Max. Count, thou liest in thy bosom, count. Count F. Lie ! Cam. Nay, I beseech you, honour'd gentlemen, Let not the untimely ruin of your love Follow these slight occurrents ; be assured Chamont's return will heal these wounds again, And break the points of your too piercing thoughts. Count F. Return ! ay, when ? when will Cha- mont return ? He'll come to fetch you, will he ? ay, 'tis like ! You'd have me think so, that's your policy. No, no, young gallant, your device is stale; You cannot feed me with so vain a hope. Cam. My lord, I feed you not with a vain hope ; I know assuredly he will return, And bring your noble son along with him. Max. Ay, I dare pawn my soul he will return. Count F. O impudent derision ! open scorn ! Intolerable wrong ! is't not enough That you have play'd upon me all this while, But still to mock me, still to jest at me ? Fellows, away with him : thou ill-bred slave, That sett'st no difference 'twixt a noble spirit And thy own slavish humour, do not think But I'll take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch. THE CASE IS ALTERED. S99 Cam Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind, And breed no terror in a guiltless mind. Count F. Nay thou shalt want no torture, so resolve ;* Bring him away. [Exit. Cam. Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend, Your tortures will, my love shall never, end. [ Exeunt Servants with Camillo and Pacue. Phcen. Alas, poor gentleman ! my father's rage Is too extreme, too stern and violent. O that I knew with all my strongest powers How to remove it from thy patient breast ! But that I cannot, yet my willing heart Shall minister, in spite of tyranny, To thy misfortune ; something there is in him That doth enforce this strange affection With more than common rapture in my breast : For being but Gasper, he is still as dear To me, as when he did Chamont appear. [Aside and exit. Aur. But in good sadness, signior, do you think Chamont will return ? Max. Do I see your face, lady ? Aur. Ay, sure, if love have not blinded you. Max. That is a question; but I will assure you no : I can see, and yet love is in mine eye. Well, the count your father simply hath disho- nour'd me, and this steel shall engrave it on his burgonet. Aur. Nay, sweet signior ! Max. Lady, I do prefer my reputation to my life ; but you shall rule me. Come, let's march. [Exit* Aur, I'll follow, signior. OsweetqueenoMove! 1 So resolre.] i. e. so assure yourself: the word occurs just abo? e in the tame sense, which was familiar to all our old writers. 400 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Sovereign of all my thoughts, and thou, fair Fortune, Who, more to honour my affections, Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamont ! Let both your flames now burn in one bright sphere, And give true light to my aspiring hopes^: Hasten Chamont's return, let him affect me, Though father, friends, and all the world reject me. [Exit. ACT V. SCENE I. The Court at the back of Jaques' House. Enter Angelo and Christophero. Ang, Sigh for a woman ! Would I fold mine arms, Rave in my sleep, talk idly being awake, Pine and look pale, make love-walks in the night, To steal cold comfort from a day-star's eyes ! Kit, thou'rt a fool ; wilt thou be wise ? then, lad, Renounce this boy-god's nice idolatry, Stand not on compliment, and coying tricks; Thou lov'st old Jaques' daughter, dost thou ? Chris. Love her ! Ang. Come, come, I know't; be ruled, and she's thine own. Thou'lt say, her father Jaques, the old beggar, Hath pawn'd his word to thee, that none but thou Shalt be his son-in-law. Chris, He has. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 401 Ang. He has ! Wilt thou believe him, and be made a cokes,* To wait on such an antique weathercock ? Why, he is more inconstant than the sea, His thoughts, camelion-like, change every minute : No, Kit, work soundly, steal the wench away, Wed her, and bed her ; and when that is done, Then say to Jaques, Shall I be your son? But come, to our device ; where is this gold ? Chris. Here, signior Angelo. Ang. Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden drops ; Let these bald French crowns be uncovered, In open sight to do obeisance To Jaques' staring eyes when he steps forth; The needy beggar will be glad of gold. So i now keep thou aloof, and as he treads This gilded path, stretch out his ambling hopes With scattering more and more, and as thou goest, Cry Jaques ! Jaques ! Chris. Tush, let me alone. Ang. But first I'll play the ghost, I'll call him out; a Kit, keep aloof. Chris. But, signior Angelo, Where will yourself and Rachel stay for me, After the jest is ended ? 1 And be made a cokes.] i. e. a fool, a gull. This is the best tense which I can make out of the old reading, kuoke. * Butjirst I'll play the ghost, I'll call him out ;] This grave passage Mr. Malone verily believes to be a reflection on Sliak- speare ! So undoubtedly is the " ghost of that great satrapas in an unsavoury sheet,'' p. 346; the ghost of Andrea, in the old play of Jeronymo ; and, in short, the ghost of every play that has appeared since the days of Thespis. vol. vi. D d 402 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Ang. Mass, that's true : At the old priory behind St. Foy's, Chris. Agreed, no better place ; I'll meet you there. [Retires, dropping the gold. Aug. Do, good fool, do ; but I'll not meet you there. Now to this gear. Jaques ! Jaques ! what, Jaques ! Jaq. [within.] Who calls? who's there? Ang. Jaques ! Jaq. [within.] Who calls ? Ang. Steward, he comes, he comes. Jaques ! [Retires. Enter Jaques. Jaq. What voice is this ? No body here ! was I not call'd ? I was ; And one cried Jaques with a hollow voice. I was deceived ; no, I was not deceived. [Sees the gold. See, see, it was an angel call'd me forth. Gold, gold, man-making gold ! another star ! Drop they from heav'n? no, no, my house, I hope, Is haunted with a fairy. My dear Lar, My household god, my fairy, on my knees Chris. | within ] Jaques ! Jaq. My Lar doth call me ; O sw eet voice, Musical as the spheres ! see, see, more gold ! Chris, [within.] Jaques ! Jaq. W hat Rachel, Rachel ! Enter Rachel. Lock my door, Look to my house. Chris, [within.] Jaques ! Jaq Shut fast my door. A golden crown ! Jaques shall be a king. [Exit, following the sound, and picking up the gold. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 403 Ang. [comes forward."] To a fool's paradise that path will bring Thee and thy household Lar. Rack. What means my father ? I wonder what strange humour Ang. Come, sweet soul, Leave wondering, start not, 'twas I laid this plot, To get thy father forth. Rack. O, Angelo ! Ang. O me no O's, but hear; my lord, your love, Paulo Ferneze, is return'd from war, Lingers at Pont Valerio, and from thence, By post, at midnight last, I was conjured To man you thither. Stand not on replies, A horse is saddled for you, will you go ? And I am for you; if you will stay, why so. Rack. O Angelo, each minute is a day Till my Ferneze come ; come, we'll away. [Exit. Ang. Sweet soul, I guess thy meaning by thy looks ; At Pont Valerio thou thy love shalt see, But not Ferneze. Steward, fare you well; You wait for Rachel too : when ! can you tell ? [Exit hastily. Re-enter Jaques with his hands full of money. Jaq. O in what golden circle have I danced 1 Milan, these odorous and enflower'd fields Are none of thine; no, here's Elysium; Here blessed ghosts do walk ; this is the court And glorious palace, where the god of gold Shines like the sun, of sparkling majesty. O [my] fair-feather'd, my red- breasted birds, Come fly with me, I'll bring you to a choir, Whose consort being sweeten'd with your sound, Dd2 404 THE CASE IS ALTERED. The music will be fuller, and each hour The ears shall banquet with your harmony. O! O! O! [Exit. Re-enter Christophero. Chris. At the old priory behind St. Foy's, That was the place of our appointment sure ; I hope he will not make me lose my gold, And mock me too; perhaps they are within ; I'll knock. Jaq. [within.] O lord ! the case is altered! Chris. Rachel ! Angelo ! signior Angelo ! Re-enter Jaques. Jaq. Angels! ay, where? mine angels! where 's my gold ? Why, Rachel ! O thou thievish cannibal ! Thou eat'st my flesh in stealing of my gold. Chris. What gold r Jaq. What gold ? Rachel ! call help, come forth I I'll rip thine entrails, but I'll have my gold. Rachel ! why com'st thou not ? I am undone. Ah me, she speaks not ! thou hast slain my child. [Exit. Chris. What is the man possest, trow ! this is strange I Rachel, I see, is gone with Angelo. Well, 1 will once again unto the priory, And see if I can meet them. [Exit. Re-enter Jaques, Jaq. 'Tis too true, Thou hast made away my child, thou hast my gold : THE CASE IS ALTERED. 405 O what hyena call'd me out of doors ? The thief is gone, my gold's gone, Rachel's gone, All's gone ! save I that spend my cries in vain; But I'll hence too, and die, or end this pain. [Exit. SCENE II. The Street before count Ferneze's House. Enter Juniper and Onion richly dressed, and drunk t followed by Finio and Valentine. Jun. 'Swounds, let me go ; hey, catso ! catch him alive; I call, I call, boy ; I come, I come, sweetheart. Oni. Page, hold my rapier, while I hold my friend here. Val. O here's a sweet metamorphosis, a couple of buzzards turn'd to a pair of peacocks. Jun. Signior Onion, lend me thy boy to un- hang my rapier. Oni. Signior Juniper, for once or so ; but troth is, you must inveigle, as I have done, my lord's page here, a poor follower of mine, Jun. Hey ho ! your page then shall not be superintendant upon me ? he shall not be ad- dicted ? he shall not be incident, he shall not be incident, he shall not be incident, shall he ? [He joins with his rapier. Fin. O sweet signior Juniper. Jun. 'Sblood, stand away, princox ! do not aggravate my joy. Val. Nay, good master Onion. Oni. Nay, an he have the heart to draw my blood, let him come. Jun. I'll slice you, Onion ; I'll slice you. 405 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Oni I'll cleave you, Juniper. Veil. Why hold, hold, ho ! what do you mean ? Jun. Lef him come, ingle ; stand by, boy, his alahaster blade cannot fear me. Fin. Why hear you, sweet signior, let not there be any contention between my master and you about me; if you want a page, sir, I can help you to a proper stripling. Jun. Canst thou ! what parentage, what an- cestry, what genealogy is he ? Fin. A French boy, sir. Jun. Has he his French linguist? has he ? Fin. Ay, sir. Jun. Then transport him ; here's a crusadofor thee. Oni. You will not imbezzle my servant with your benevolence, will you ? hold, boy, there's a portmanteau for thee. Fin. Lord, sir! Oni. Do, take it, boy ; it's three pounds ten shillings, a portmanteau. Fin. I thank your lordship. - [Exit. Jun. Sirrah, ningle, thou art a traveller, and I honour thee. I prithee discourse, cherish thy muse, discourse. Val. Of what, sir? Jun. Of what thou wilt ; 'sblood, hang sorrow. Oni. Prithee, Valentine, assoil me one thing. Val. Ti3 pity to soil you, sir, your new appa- rel Oni. Mass thou say'st true, apparel makes a man forget himself. Jun. Begin, find your tongue, ningle. Val. Now will I gull these ganders rarely. Gentlemen, having in my peregrination through Mesopotamia Jun, Speak legibly, this game's gone without THE CASE IS ALTERED. 407 the great mercy of Here's a fine tragedy in- deed ! there's a keisar royal ! 'slid, nor king, nor keisar shall Re-enter Finio with Pa cue, Balthasar, and Martino. Bal. Where, where, Finio, where be they? Jun. Go to, I'll be with you anon. Oni. O here's the page, signior Juniper. Jun. What says monsieur Onion, boy r Fin. What say you, sir ? Jun. Tread out, boy. Fin. Take up, you mean, sir. Jun. Tread out, I say ; so ! I thank you, is this the boy ? Pac. Oui, monsieur. Jun. Who gave you that name ? Pac. Give me de name, vat name ? Oni. He thought your name had been TVe. Young gentleman, you must do more than his legs can do for him, bear with him, sir. Jun. Sirrah, give me instance of your carnage; you'll serve my turn, will you ? Pac. Vat turn ? upon the toe ! Fin. O siguior, no. Jun. Page, will you follow me ? I'll give you good exhibition. Pac. By gar, shall not alone follow you, but shall lead you too. Oni* Plaguy boy ! he sooths his humour ; these French villains have pocky wits. Jun. Here, disarm me, take my semitary. Val. O rare ! this would be a rare man, an he had a little travel. Balthasar, Martino, put off your shoes, and bid h.m cobble them. Jun, Friends, friends, but pardon me for fel- 408 THE CASE IS ALTERED. lows, no more in occupation, no more in corpo- ration ; 'tis so, pardon me ; the case is alter'd ; this is law, but I'll stand to nothing. Pac. Fait, so me tink. Jun. Well, then God save the duke's majesty; is this any harm now ? speak, is this any harm now ? Oni. No, nor good neither, 's blood ! Jun. Do you laugh at me, do you laugh at me, do you laugh at me ? Val. Ay, sir, we do. Jun. You do indeed? Val. Ay, indeed, sir. Jun. 'Tis sufficient ; page carry my purse ; dog me. [Exit, Oni. Gentlemen, leave him not! you see in what case he is ; he is not in adversity, his purse is full of money ; leave him not. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The open Country, Enter Ancelo with Rachel. Ang. Nay, gentle Rachel! Rach. Away ! forbear, ungentle Angelo ! Touch not my body with those impious hands, That, like hot irons, sear my trembling heart, And make it hiss at your disloyalty. Enter Paulo 'FER^EZEand Chamout at adistance. Was this your drift, to use Ferneze's name? Was he your fittest stale r 3 O vile dishonour ! 3 Was he your fittest stale fj i. e. decoy or corer : alluding to the stalking-horse, behind which sportsmen approach their game, unperceived. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 409 Paul. Stay, noble sir. {Holding back Chamont. Ang. 'Sblood, how like a puppet do you talk now ! Dishonour! what dishonour? come, come, fool; Nay, then I see you are peevish. S'heart, dis- honour ! To have you to a priest, and marry you, And put you in an honourable state. Rach. To marry me ! O heaven ! can it be, That men should live with such unfeeling souls, Without or touch or conscience of religion ? Or that their warping appetites should spoil Those honoured forms, that the true seal of friendship Had set upon their faces? Ang. Do you hear? What needs all this? say, will you have me, or no? Rach. I'll have you gone, and leave me, if you would. Ang. Leave you ! I was accurst to bring you hither, And make so fair an offer to a fool. A pox upon you, why should you be coy, What good thing have you in you to be proud of? Are you any other than a beggar's daughter ? Becauseyou have beauty! Ogod'slight ! a blast! Pau. Ay, Angelo ! Ang. You scornful baggage, I loved thee not so much, but now I hate thee. Rach. Upon my knees, 4 you heavenly powers, I thank you, That thus have tamed his wild affections. 4 Upon my knees, &c] The character of Rachel is exquisitely drawn : she is gentle and modest, yet steady, faithful and af- fectionate. Nothing less than this was requisite to justify tha number of her admirers, Onion, Christophero, Angelo, Paulo, 410 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Ang. This will not do, I must to her again. [Aside, Rachel ! O that thou saw'st my heart, or didst hehold The place from whence that scalding sigh evented ! Rachel, by Jesu, I love thee as my soul, Rachel, sweet Rachel ! Rack. What, again return'd Unto this violent passion! Ang. Do but hear me ; By heaven I love you, Rachel. Rack. Pray forbear. O that my lord Ferneze were but here ! Ang. 'Sblood! an he were, what would he do? Pau. [Rushes forward.] This would he do, base villain. [Flings him off. Rack. My dear lord ! [Runs into his arms. Pau. Thou monster, even the soul of trea- chery ! O what dishonour'd title of reproach May my tongue spit in thy deserved face ! Methinks my very presence should invert The steeled organs of those traitorous eyes, To take into thy heart, and pierce it through. Turn'st thou them on the ground ? wretch, dig a grave and the count, his father, all, in short, who see her, solicit her love. Jonson derived no assistance from Plautus in this part of his plot ; for the young lady, who corresponds to Rachel, is not seen at all, nor, indeed, heard except on one pressing occa- sion, when she utters a scream behind the scenes. One pretty trait of her is however given by the Lar. Ea mihi cotidie Aut ture aut vino, aut aliquo semper supplicat : Dat mihi coronas^ Spc. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 1 411 With their sharp points, to hide thy abhorred head. Sweet love, thy wrongs have been too violent Since my departure from thee, I perceive; Hut now true comfort shall again appear, And, like an armed angel, guard thee safe From all the assaults of cover'd villainy. Come, monsieur, let us go, and leave this wretch To his despair. Ang. My noble [lord !] Ferneze ! Pau. What, canst thou speak to me, and not thy tongue Forced with the torment of thy guilty soul, Break that infected circle of thy mouth, Like the rude clapper of a crazed bell! I, [I] that in thy bosom lodg'd my soul, With all her train of secrets, thinking them To be as safe and richly entertain'd As in a prince's court, or tower of strength ; And thou to prove a traitor to my trust, And basely to expose it ! O this world ! Ang, My honourable lord. Pau. The very owl, Whom other birds do stare and wonder at, Shall hoot at thee ; and snakes, in every bush, Shall deaf thine ears with their Cha. Nay, good my lord, Give end unto your passions. Ang. You shall see I will redeem your lost opinion. Rack. My lord, believe him. Cha. Come, be satisfied : Sweet lord, you know our haste ; let us to horse, The time for my engaged return is past. Be friends again, take him along with you. 412 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Pau, Come Angelo, hereafter prove more true. \_Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in count Ferneze's House, Enter count Ferneze, Maximilian and Fran- cisco. Count F. Tut, Maximilian, for your honour'd self I am persuaded ; but no words shall turn The edge of purposed vengeance on that wretch. Come bring him forth to execution. Enter Servants with Camillo bound. I'll hang him for my son, he shall not 'scape, Had he a hundred lives. Tell me, vile slave, Think'st thou I love my son ? is he my flesh? Is he my blood, my life ? and shall all these Be tortured for thy sake, and not revenged ? Truss up the villain. Max. My lord, there is no law to confirm this action : 'tis dishonourable. Count F. Dishonourable, Maximilian ! It is dishonourable in Chamont: The day of his prefix 'd return is past, And he shall pay for it. Cam. My loid, my lord, Use your extremest vengeance ; I'll be glad To suffer ten times more for such a friend. Count F. O resolute and peremptory wretch I Franc. My honour'd loid, let us iutreat a word. THE CASE IS ALTERED. 413 Count F. I'll hear no more ; I say, he shall not live ; Myself will do it. Stay, what form is this Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my hand ? What miracle is this? 'tis my own fancy Carves this impression in me; my soft nature, That ever hath retain'd such foolish pity Of the most abject creature's misery, That it abhors it. What a child am I To have a child ? ah me ! my son, my son ! [Weeps, and walks aside. Enter Christophero. Chris. O my dear love, what is become of thee? What unjust absence layest thou on my breast, Like weights of lead, when swords are at my back, That run me thorough with thy unkind flight! My gentle disposition waxeth wild; I shall run frantic : O my love, my love ? Enter Jaques Jaq. My gold, my gold, my life, my soul, my heaven ! What is' become of thee ? see, I'll impart My miseiable loss to my good lord. Let me have search, my lord, my gold is gone. Count F. My son, Christophero, think'st thou it possible I ever shall behold his face again ? Chris. O father, where's my love ? were you so careless To let an unthnft steal away your child ? 414 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Jaq. I know your lordship may find out my gold. For God's sake pity me; justice, sweet lord ! Count F. Now they have young Chamont, Chris- tophero, Surely they never will restore my son. Chris. Who would have thought you could have been so careless. To lose your only daughter? Jaq. Who would think That looking to my gold with such hare's eyes, That ever open, ay, even when they sleep, I thus should lose my gold ! my noble lord, What says your lordship ? Count F. O my son, my son ! Chris. My dearest Rachel ! Jaq. My most honey gold ! Count F. Hear me, Christophero. Chris. Nay, hear me, Jaques. Jaq. Hear me, most honour'd lord. Max. What rule is here? Count F. O God, that we should let Chamont escape ! Chris. Ay, and that Rachel, such a virtuous maid, Should be thus stolen away ! Jaq. And that my gold, Being so hid in earth, should be found out! Max. O confusion of languages, and yet no tower of Babel! Enter Aurelia, and Phcenixella. Fran. Ladies, beshrew me, if you come not fit To make a jangling consort; will you laugh To see three constant passions? THE CASE IS ALTERED. 415 Max. Stand by, I will urge them.- Sweet count, will you be comforted? Count F. It cannot be But he is handled the most cruelly That ever any noble prisoner was. Max. Steward, go cheer my lord. Chris. Well, if Rachel took her flight willing- Max. Sirrah, speak you touching your daugh- ter's flight. Jaq. O that I could so soon forget to know The thief again that had my gold, my gold ! Max. Is not this pure ? Count F. O thou base wretch, I'll drag thee through the streets ; And as a monster make thee wonder'd at. Enter Balthasar. How now ? [Balthasar whispers with him* Phcen. Sweet gentleman, how too unworthily Art thou thus tortured ! Brave Maximilian, Pity the poor youth, and appease my father. Count F. How ! my son return'd ! O Maxi- milian, Francisco, daughters ! bid him enter here. Dost thou not mock me? Enter Paulo Ferneze, Rachel, Chamont, and Angelo. O, my dear Paulo, welcome. Max. My lord Chamont ! Cha- My Gasper! Chris. Rachel ! Jaq My gold, Rachel, my gold ! Count F. Somebody bid the beggar cease his noise. 416 THE CASE IS ALTERED. Chris. O siVnior Angelo, would you deceive Your honest friend, that simply trusted you ? Well, Rachel, I am glad thou art here again. Ang. I'faith, she is not for you, steward. Jaq. I beseech you, madam, urge your father. Fhcen. I will anon ; good Jaques be content. Aur. Now God a mercy Fortune, and sweet Venus. Let Cupid do his part, and all is well. Phcen. Methinks my heart's in heaven with this comfort. Cha. Is this the true Italian courtesy ? Ferneze, were you tortured thus in France? By my soul's safety Count F. My most noble lord, [Kneels. I do beseech your lordship. Cha. Honour'd count, [Raises him. Wrong not your age with flexure of a knee, I do impute it to those cares and griefs That did torment you in your absent son. Count F. O worthy gentlemen, I am ashamed That my extreme affection to my son Should give my honour so uncured a maim ; But my first son being in Vicenza lost Cha. How ! in Vicenza ! lost you a son there? About what time, my lord? Count F. O, the same night Wherein your noble father took the town. Cha. How long's that since, my lord, can you remember? Count F. Tis now well nigh upon the twen- tieth year. Cha. And how old was he then? Count F. I cannot tell ; Between the years of three and four, I take it. Cha. Had he no special note in his attire, Or otherwise, that you can call to mind ? THE CASE IS ALTERED. 417 Count F. I cannot well remember his attire; But I have often heard his mother say, He had about his neck a tablet, Given to him by the emperor Sigismund, His godfather, with this inscription, Under the figure of a silver globe, In minimo mundus. Cha. How did you call Your son, my lord? Count F. Camillo, lord Chamont. Cha. Then, no more my Gasper, but Camillo, Take notice of your father. Gentlemen, Stand not amazed ; here is a tablet, With that inscription, found about his neck, That night and in Vicenza, by my father, Who, being ignorant what name he had, Christen'd him Gasper; nor did I reveal This secret, till this hour, to any man. Count F. O happy revelation ! O blest hour ! my Camillo! Phcen. O strange ! my brother ! Fran. Maximilian, Behold how the abundance of his joy Drowns him in tears of gladness. Count F. O, my boy, Forgive thy father's late austerity. Max. My lord, I delivered as much before, but your honour would not be persuaded ; I will hereafter give more observance to my visions ; I dreamt of this. Jaq. I can be still no longer ; my good lord, Do a poor man some grace 'mongstall your joys. Count F. Why, what's the matter, Jaques? Jaq. I am robb'd ; 1 am undone, my lord ; robb'd and undone. A heap of thirty thousand golden crowns Stolen from me in one minute, and I fear vol. vi. E e 418 THE CASE IS ALTERED. By her confederacy that calls me father ; But she is none of mine, therefore, sweet lord, Let her be tortured to confess the truth. Max. More wonders yet. Count F. How, Jaques ! is not Rachel then thy daughter? Jaq. No, I disclaim in her; I spit at her : She is a harlot, and her customers, Your son, this gallant, and your steward here, Have all been partners with her in my spoil; No less tban thirty thousand. Count F. Jaques, Jaques, This is impossible; how shouldst thou come To the possession of so huge a heap, Being always a known beggar? Jaq. Out, alas ! I have betray'd myself with my own tongue ; The case is alter'd. [Going, Count F. Some one stay him here. Max. What, means he to depart ? Count Fer- neze, upon my soul, this beggar is a counterfeit. Urge him. Didst thou lose gold ? Jaq. O no, I lost no gold. Max. Said I not true ? Count F. How ! didst thou first lose thirty thousand crowns, And now no gold ? was Rachel first thy child, And is she now no daughter? sirrah, Jaques, You know how far our Milan laws extend For punishment of liars. Jaq. Ay, my lord. What shall I do? I have no starting-holes. [Aside. Monsieur Chamont, stand you my honour'd lord. Cha. For what, old man ? Jaq. Ill-gotten goods ne'er thrive ; I play'd the thief, aud now am robb'd myself. I am not what I seem, Jaques de Prie, THE CASE IS ALTERED. 419 Nor was I born a beggar as I am ; But some time steward to your noble fatber. Cha. What, Melun ! That robb'd my father's treasure, stole my sister? Jaq. Ay, ay ; that treasure's lost, but Isabel, Your beauteous sister, here survives in Rachel ; And therefore on my knees Max. Stay, Jaques, stay ; The case still alters. Count F. Fair Rachel, sister to the lord Chamont ! Ang. Steward, your cake is dough, as well as mine. Pau. I see that honour's flames cannot be hid, No more than lightning in the blackest cloud. Max. Then, sirrah, it is true, you have lost this gold? Jaq. Ay, worthy signior, thirty thousand crowns. Count F. Mass, who was it told me, that a couple of my men were become gallants of late? Fran. Marry 'twas I, my lord; my man told me. Enter O n i o n and Juniper dressed as before. Max. How now ! what pageant is this? Jim. Come, signior Onion, let's not be ashamed to appear ; keep state, look not ambiguous now. Oni. Not I, while I am in this suit. Jun. Lordlings, equivalence to you all. Oni. We thought good to be so good as see you, gentlemen. Max. What, monsieur Onion ! Oni. How dost thou, good captain? Count F. What, are my hinds turn'd gentlemen? Oni. Hinds, sir! 'sblood, an that word will E e 2 420 THE CASE IS ALTERED. bear an action, it shall cost us a thousand pound a piece, but we'll be revenged. Jun. Wilt thou sell thy lordship, count ? Count F. What! peasants purchase lordships? Jun. Is that any novels, sir ? Max. O transmutation of elements ! it is cer- tified you had pages. Jun. Ay, sir ; but it is known they proved ridiculous, they did pilfer, they did purloin, they did procrastinate our purses ; for the which wasting of our stock, we have put them to the stocks. Count F. And thither shall you two presently. These be the villains that stole Jaques' gold ; Away with them, and set them with their men. Max. Onion, you will now be peel'd. Fran. The case' is alter'd now. Oni. Good my lord, good my lord ! Jun. Away, scoundrel ! dost thou fear a little elocution ? shall we be confiscate now ? shall we droop now ? shall we be now in helogabolus? Oni. Peace, peace, leave thy gabling. Count F. Away, away with them ; what's this they prate ? [Exeunt Servants with Jun. and Onion. Keep the knaves sure, strict inquisition Shall presently be made for Jaques' gold, To be disposed at pleasure of Cbamont. Cha. She is your own, lord Paulo, if your father Give his consent. Ang. How now, Christophero ! The case is alter'd. Chris. With you as well as me; I am content, sir. Count F. With all my heart ; and in exchange of her, THE CASE IS ALTERED. 421 If with your fair acceptance it may stand, I tender my Aurelia to your love. Cha. I take her from your lordship with all thanks, And bless the hour wherein I was made prisoner, For the fruition of this present fortune, So full of happy and unlook'd-for joys. Melun, I pardon thee ; and for the treasure, Recover it, and hold it as thine own : It is enough for me to see my sister Live in the circle of Ferneze's arms, My friend, the son of such a noble father; And my unworthy self rapt above all, By being the lord to so divine a dame. Max. Well, I will now swear the case is al- tered. Lady, fare you well; I will subdue my affections. Madam, as for you, you are a pro- fest virgin, and I will be silent. My honour- able lord Ferneze, it shall become you at this time not be frugal, but bounteous, and open handed ; your fortune hath been so to you. Lord Chamont, you are now no stranger ; you must be welcome ; you have a fair, amiable, and splen- did lady : but, signor Paulo, signior Camillo, I know you valiant, be loving. Lady, I must be better known to you. Signiors, for you, I pass you not, though I let you pass ; for in truth I pass not of you. Lovers toyour nuptials, lordings to your dances. March fair all, for a fair March is worth a king's ransom I [Exeunt* 1 There is a considerable degree of ingenuity in the con- struction of this lively comedy. The author probably found the plot of the Aulularia too simple for his purpose, and the dex- terity with which he contrived to interweave that of the Captivi with it, so as t% form a consistent whole, is very worthy of praise. To say that the characters are strongly conceived, and correctly sustained, is to say little more than that they came 422 THE CASE IS ALTERED. from Jonson. Juniper perhaps was new to the stage, and we know him to have been exceedingly popular, as was probably Pacue, whose ludicrous attempts upon the English language, have been adopted by Mr. Pinkcrton, as material improvements of its sense and sound.* The poetical part of this drama has an air of lightness and elegance which is not always discernible in Jonson's more celebrated works. It is true, that he here u dallies" with his subject, which partakes of the nature of farce ; but it is to be regretted that he did not rather labour to perfect his early style, than to exchange it altogether for that more severe and masculine mode of composition which he sub- sequently adopted. Thus Pacue : " Uttera vata," &c. and thus his ingenious follower, " In mya rnorninga devotiona, I ascended thea hia hilla of Bagdat," &c. Letters of Liter- ature, p. 255. Mr. Pinkerton has concealed lus obligations to the Case is Altered : this, however, is so common a circumstance, that I should have passed it over, had he not ungratefully sought to take away the very possibility of detection, by hinting to his friends, that it would be expedient " to dedicate, not only th present comedy, but all the works of Ben Jonson to Cloaca!" Ibid. p. 302. ENTERTAINMENTS. PART OF KING JAMES'S ENTERTAINMENT, IN PASSING TO HIS CORONATION. Part of King James's Entertainment, in passing to his Coronation.] So runs the title of the folio, 1616, that of the 4to. 1604, had this additional matter " Through the City of London, on Thursday the 15th of March, 1603. So much at was presented in the first and last of their triumphal arches. Quatido magis dignos licuit spectare triumphos f Mart."' James had lingered on his journey, " banqueting and feasting by the way," as Wilson says, but chiefly hunting, in which he took great delight ; the plague too interrened, and a journey to the north, which he made to receive his queen and son, so that nearly twelve months elapsed from the period of Eliza- beth's death to his public entry from the Tower. Happily James was patient of these pageants, which were somewhat new to him, and had besides sufficient literature in them to interest his scholarship : yet it may be wondered how he held out to Whitehall. Wilson accounts for it somewhat uncharitably, according to his custom ; M The city and suburbs," he says, " were one great pageant ; yet the king endured this day's brunt with patience, being assured, he should never have such another." Life of King James, p. 12. PART OP KING JAMES'S ENTERTAINMENT/ r. At Fen-Church. The scene presented itself in a square and flat upright," like to the side of a city : the top thereof, above the vent and crest, adorn'd with houses, towers, and steeples, setoffin prospective. Upon the battlements in a great capital letter was inscribed, LONDINIUM: 1 Part of King James's Entertainment, &c] This Entertain- ment was exhibited at the expense of the city of London; our poet was the inventor of the first and last pageants only ; the intermediate ones, which were three in number, were devised by Decker, who was an associate with Jonson upon this occa. sion. He published his own work, in a book called, The mag. nificent Entertainment given to king James, queen Anne his "wife, and Henry Frederick the prince, upon the day of his majesty's tri- umphant passage from the Tower through his honourable city and chamber of London, being the 15th of March, 1603. Lond. \to. 1604. Whal. * The scene presented itself in a square and flat upright.] Decker give a more particular description of this : " It was an upright flat square, for it contained fifty foot in the perpendi- cular, and fifty foot in the ground line; the upper roof thereof, one (perhaps on) distinct grices, bore up the true models of all the notable houses, turrets, and steeples within the city. The gate under which his majesty did pass was 12 foot wide, and 18 foot high, a postern likewise, at one side of it, beiug 4 foot wide, and 8 foot in heighth : on either side of the gate stood a great French term of stone, advanced upon wooden pedestals ; two half pilasters of rustic standing over their heads." Whal. 428 PART OF THE according to Tacitus, Annal. lib. 14. At Sue- tonius mira constantia medios inter hosteis Londinium perrexit, cognomento quidem Colonia non insigne, sed copid negotiatorum, et commeatu maxime celebre. Beneath that, in a less and different character, was written CAMERA REGIA, which title immediately after the Norman con- quest it began to have ; {Cam. Brit. 374.) and by the indulgence of succeeding princes, hath been hitherto continued. In the frieze over the gate it seemeth to speak this verse : PAR DOMUS HMC CCELO, SED MINOR EST DOMINO, taken out of Martial (Jib. 8. epig. 36.) and im- plying, that though this city (for the state and magnificence) might by hyperbole be said to touch the stars, and reach up to heaven, yet was it far inferior to the master thereof, who was his majesty ; and in that respect unworthy to receive him. The highest person advanced therein, was MONARCHIA BRITANNICA; and fitly ; applying to the abovementioned title of the* city, THE KING'S CHAMBER, and therefore here placed as in the proper seat of the empire : for so the glory and light of our king- dom, M. Camden, {Brit. 3, 7.) speaking of Lon- don, saith, she is totius Britannice epitome, Britan- nicique imperii sedes, regumque Anglice camera, tantum inter omneis eminet, quantum (ut ait ille) inter viburna cupressus. She was a woman, richly attired in cloth of gold and tissue ; a rich mantle ; over her state two crowns hanging, with pensile KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 429 shields thorough them ; the one limned with the particular coat of England, the other of Scotland : On either side also a crown, with the like scut- cheons, and peculiar coats of France and Ireland. In her hand she holds a sceptre ; on her head a fillet of gold, interwoven with palm and laurel; herhairbound into fourseveral points, descending from her crowns ; and in her lap a little globe, inscribed upon ORBIS BRITANNICUS, and, beneath, the word DIVISUS AB ORBE; to shew that this empire is a world divided from the world ; and alluding to that of Claudian, De Alallii Theodor. cons, panegyr. Et nostra diducta Britannia mundo ; and Virgil, Et penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos* The wreath denotes victory and happiness ; the sceptre and crowns sovereignty ; the shields the precedency of the countries, and their distinc- tions. At her feet was set THEOSOPHIA, or Divine Wisdom, all in white, a blue mantle seeded with stars, a crown of stars on her head. Her garments figured truth, innocence, and clearness. She was always looking up ; in her one hand she sustained a dove, in the other a serpent : the last to shew her subtilty, the first hersimplicity : alludingtothattext of Scripture, Estote ergo prudentes sicut serpentes, et simplices sicut columbce. Her word, * Eclog. 1. fc Matt. x. 16. 430 PART OF THE PER ME REGES REGNANT,* intimating, how by her all kings do govern, and that she is the foundation and strength of king- doms : to which end, she was here placed upon a cube, at the foot of the monarchy, as her base and stay. Directly beneath her stood GENIUS URBIS, d a person attired rich, reverend, and antique : his hair long and white, crowned with a wreath of plane-tree, which is said to be arbor genialis ; his mantle of purple, and buskins of that colour : he held in one hand a goblet, in the other a branch full of little twigs, to signify increase and indulgence. His word, HIS ARM IS; pointing to the two that supported him, whereof the one on the right hand was BOULEUTES, figuring the council of the city, and was suited in black and purple ; a wreath of oak c upon his head ; sustaining, for his ensigns, on his left arm a scarlet robe, and in his right hand the fasces/ as tokens of magistracy, with this in- scription ; SERVARE CIVES. e Pro?. Tiii. 15. d Antiqui genium omnium gignendarum rerum exislimarunt dtum: et tarn urbib. quam hominib. vet cceteris rebus natum. Lil. Gr. Gyr. in Synt. Deor. 15. and Rosin. Antiq. Ro. 1. 2. c. 14. e Civica corona Jit Ifrondcqucrna, quoniam cibus victusquc anti- quissimus querceus capi solitus tit. Ros. lib. 10. cap. 27. f Fasciculi virgarum, intra quas obligata securis erat, sic ut ferrum in summojasce extaret. Ros. lib. 7. cap. 3. Ubi notandum est y non debere pracipitem ct solutam tram esse magistratus. Mora KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 431 The other on the left hand, POLEMIUS, the warlike force of the city, in an antique coat or armour with a target and sword ; his helm on, and crowned with laurel, implying strength and conquest : in his hand he bore the standard of the city, with this word, EXTINGUERE ET HO ST E IS, expressing by those several mots, connexed, that with those arms of counsel and strength, the Genius was able to extinguish the king's enemies, and preserve his citizens, alluding to these verses in Seneca, Oct. act. 2. Extinguere hostem maxima est virtus ducis. Servare cives major est patriot patri. Underneath these, in an aback thrust out be- fore the rest, lay TAMESIS, the river, as running along the side of the city ; in a skin-coat made like flesh, naked and blue. His mantle of sea-green or water-colour, thin, and boln * out like a sail ; bracelets about his wrists, of willow and sedge, a crown of sedge and reed upon his head, mixed with water-lilies ; alluding to Virgil's description of Tyber; enim allata, tt cunctatio, dum sensim virgcc solvuntur, identidem consilium mutavit deplectendo. Quando autem vitia qucedam sunt corrigibilia, deploratu alia ; castigant virgce, quod revocari valet t immedicabile secures pracidunt. Plut. Prob. Rom. 82. * Boln.] i. e. swelled or puffed out Mr. Malone, in his Supplement to Shakspeare, . i. 553, has given us blown instead of boln ; a mere corruption. 432 PART OF THE -Deus ipse loci,Jiuvio Tyberinus amceno, Populeas inter senior se attollere frondes VisuSj eum tenuis glauco velabat amictu Carbasus, et crineis umbrosa tegebat arundo* His beard, and hair long, and overgrown. He leans his arm upon an earthen pot, out of which, water, with live fishes, are seen to run forth, and play about him. His word, FLUMINA SENSERUNT IPSA, an hemistich of Ovid's : the rest of the verse being, quid esset amor. h affirming, that rivers themselves, and such in- animate creatures, have heretofore been made sensible of passions and affections ; and that he now, no less partook the joy of his majesty's grateful approach to this city, than any of those persons, to whom he pointed, which were the daughters of the Genius, and six in number: who, in a spreading ascent, upon several grices, help to beautify both the sides. The first, EUPHROSYNE, or Gladness, was suited in green, a mantle of divers colours, embroidered with all variety of flowers : on her head a garland of myrtle, in her right hand a crystal cruse filled with wine, in the left a cup of gold ; at her feet a timbrel, harp, and other instruments, all ensigns of gladness, Natis in usum lcetiti(e scyphis, cS ^n. lib. 8. h Anaor. 3. el. 5. 1 Hor. car. i. ode 27. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 433 And in another place, Nunc est bibtndum y nunc pede Ubero Pulsanda teltus, #c. k Her word, HMC MVI MIHI PRIMA DIES. 1 As if this were the first hour of her life, and the minute wherein she began to be ; beholding so long coveted, and looked for a presence. The second, SEBASIS, or Veneration, was varied in an ash-coloured suit, and dark mantle, a veil over her head of ash-colour: her hands crossed before her, and her eyes half closed. Her word, MIHI SEMPER DEUS. Implying both her office of reverence, and the dignity of her object, who being as god on earth, should never be less in her thought. The third, PROTHYMIA, or Promptitude, was attired in a short tucked garment of flame-colour, wings at her back : her hair bright, and bound up with ribands ; her breast open, virago-like ; her buskins so rib- banded : she was crowned with a chaplet of tri- foly, to express readiness and openness every way ; in her right hand she held a squirrel, as being the creature most full of life and quick- ness : in the left a close round censer, with the perfume suddenly to be vented forth at the sides. Her word, QUA DA TA PORTAs * Ode 37. Stat. Syl. 4. Ep. Domit. - Virg. Eel. 1. n Mn. 1. VOL. VI. F f 434 PART OF THE taken from another place in Virgil, where iEolus, at the command of Juno, lets forth the wind ; Ac venti velut agmine facto Qua data porta ruunt, et terras turbine perflant." And shewed that she was no less prepared with promptitude and alacrity, than the winds were, upon the least gate that shall be opened to his high command. The fourth, A G R Y P N I A, or Vigilance, in yellow, a sable mantle, seeded with waking eyes, and silver fringe : her chaplet of Heliotropium, or turnsole: in her one hand a lamp, or cresset; in her other a bell. The lamp signified search and sight, the bell warning; the Heliotropium care, and respecting her object. Her word, SPECULAMUR IN OMNEIS, alluding to that of Ovid, where he describes the office of Argus ; Ipse procul montis sublime cacumen Occupat, wide sedens partes speculatur in omneis.* and implying the like duty of care and vigilance in herself. The fifth, AGAPE, or Loving Affection, in crimson fringed with gold, a mantle of flame-colour, her chaplet of red and white roses; in her hand, a flaming heart : the flame expressed zeal ; the red and white roses, a mixture of simplicity with love ; her robes freshness and fervency. Her word, NON SIC EXCUBIJE, ^n. 1. p Met. 1. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 435 out of Claudian, in following Nee circumstantia pila Quam tutatur amor.' 1 Inferring, that though her sister before had pro- tested watchfulness and circumspection, yet no watch or guard could be so safe to the estate or person of a prince, as the love and natural af- fections of his subjects : which she in the city's behalf promised. The sixth, OMOTH YMIA, or Unanimity, in blue, her robe blue, and buskins. A chaplet of blue lilies, shewing one truth and entireness of mind. In her lap lies a sheaf of arrows bound together, and she herself sits weav- ing certain small silver twists. Her word, FIR MA CONCENSUS FACIT. Auxilia humilia fir ma t &fc. T Intimating, that even the smallest and weakest aids, by consent, are made strong : herself per- sonating the unanimity, or consent of soul, in all inhabitants of the city to his service. < These are all the personages, or live figures, whereof only two were speakers, (Genius and Tamesis,*) the rest were mutes. Other dumb com- pliments there were, as the arms of the kingdom on the one side, with this inscription, HIS FIRE AS. With these may est thou flourish. i Dc 4. cons. Hon. paneg. r Pub. Syr. * Tamesis was represented by one of the children of his Majesty's Revels, and Genius by Mr. Allein, servant to prince Henry, who, as Decker says, " delivered his speeches with excellent action, and a well-tuned audible voice." 436 PART OF THE On the other side, the arms of the city, with, HIS V INC AS. JVith these may est thou conquer. In the centre, or midst of the pegme, there was an aback, or square, wherein this elogy was written MAXIM US HIC REX EST ET LUCE SFRENIOR IPSA PRINCIPE QU/E TALEM CERNIT IN URBE DUCEM; CUJUS FORTUNAM SUPERAT SIC UNICA VIRTUS, UN US UT IS RELIQUOS VINCIT UTRAQUE VIROS. PRECEPT IS ALII POPULOS, MULTAQUE FAT1GANT LEGE ; SED EXEMPLO NOS RAPIT 1LLE SUO. CUIQUE FRUI IOTA FAS EST UXORE MARITO, ET SUA FAS SIMILI PIGNORA NOSSE PATRI. ECCE UBI PIGNORIBUS CIRCUMSTIPATA CORUSCIS IT COMES, ET TANTO VI X MINOR ANNA V1RO. HAUD METUS EST, REGEM POSTHAC NE PROXIMUS ILERES, NEU SUCCESSOREM NON AMET ILLE SUUM. This, and the whole frame, was covered with a curtain of silk, painted like a thick cloud, and at the approach of the king was instantly to be drawn. The allegory being, that those clouds were gathered upon the face of the city, through their long want of his most wished sight: but now, as at the rising of the sun, all mists were dispersed and tied. When suddenly, upon silence made to the music, a voice was heard to utter this verse; Totus adest oculis, aderat qui mentibus olim.' Signifying, that he was now really objected to their eyes, who before had been only, but still, present in their minds. Claud, de laud. Stil. lib. 3. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 437 Thus far the compliment 'al part of the first ; wherein was not only laboured the expression of state and magnificence (as proper to a triumphal arch) hut the very site, fabric, strength, policy, dignity, and affections of the city were all laid down to life : the nature and property of these devices being, to present always some one entire body, or figure, consisting of distinct members, and each of those expressing itself in its own active sphere, yet all with that general harmony so connexed, and disposed, as no one little part can be missing to the illustration of the whole : where also is to be noted, that the symbols used are not, neither ought to be, simply hieroglyphics, em- blems, or impreses, but a mixed character, partaking somewhat of all, and peculiarly apted to these more magnificent inventions ; wherein the garments and ensigns deliver the nature of the person, and the z&ord the present office. Neither was it becoming, nor could it stand with the dignity of these shews, (after the most miserable and desperate shift of the puppets) to require a truchman, or, with the ignorant painter, one to write, This is a dog ; or, This is a hare: but so to be presented, as upon the view, they might, without cloud, or obscurity, declare themselves to the sharp and. learned : and j or the multitude, no doubt but their grounded judgments did gaze, said it was fine, and were satisfied. The Speeches of Gratulation. GENIUS. Time, Tate, and Fortunehaveatlength conspired, To give our age the day so much desired. 438 PART OF THE What all the minutes, hours, weeks, months and years, That hang in file upon these silver hairs, Could not produce, beneath the Britain stroke,' The Roman, Saxon, Dane, and Norman yoke," This point of time hath done. Now, London, rear Thy forehead high, and on it strive to wear Thy choicest gems; teach thy steep towers to rise Higher with people : set with sparkling eyes Thy spacious windows ; and in ev'ry street, Let thronging joy, love, and amazement meet. Cleave all the air with shouts, and- let the cry Strike through as long, and universally, As thunder; for thou now art bless'd to see That sight, for which thou didst begin to be, When Brutus' x plough first gave thee infant bounds, And I, thy Genius, walk'd auspicious rounds 1 As being the first free and natural government of this island? after it came to civility. u In respect they were all conquests, and the obedience of the subject more enforced. x Rather than the city should want a founder, we chose to follow the received story of Brute, whether fabulous, or true, and not altogether unwarranted in poetry : since it is a favour of antiquity to few cities, to let them know their first authors. Besides, a learned poet of our time, in a most elegant work of his, Con. Tam. et Isis,* celebrating London, hath this verse of her : jEmula maternal lollcns sua lumina Trojce, Here is also an ancient rite alluded to in the building of cities, which was to give them their bounds with a plough, according to Virg. JEn. lib. 10 hiterca Mneas urbem dtsignat aratro. And Isidore, lib. 15. cap. 2. Urbs vocata ub orbe, quod antiques civitates in orbemjiebant ; vel ab urbo parte aratri, quo muri dcsignabantur y unde est illud, Oplaiitquc locum regno et concludere sulco. Besides, a learned poet of our time, in a most elegant work of his, Cou. Tam. et Isis.] 'that is, Conjugium Tamesis et his, or the wedding of the Thame and Iis: man] parti of this poem are quoted in Camden's Britannia, and from the manner in which they are usually presented to the reader, the editor suspects that Camden hiiuscll was the author of it. Wbal. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 439 In every furrow ; T then did I forelook, And saw this day z mark'd white in Clotho's * book. The several circles, b both of change and sway, Within this isle, there also figured lay: Of which the greatest, perfectest, and last Was this, whose present happiness we taste. Why keepyou silence, daughters? what dull peace Is this inhabits you? Shall office cease Upon the aspect of him, to whom you owe More than you are, or can be? Shall Time know That article, wherein your flame stood still, And not aspired ? now heav'n avert an ill Of that black look I Ere pause possess your breasts, I wish you more of plagues : * zeal when it rests, r Primigenius sulcus dicitur, qui in condendd novd urbe, tauro et raced designations causd imprimitur i hitherto respects that of Camd, Brit. 368, speaking of this city, Quicunqiie autcm condi- derit, vitali genio constructam fuisse ipsius fortuna docuit. z For so all happy days were, Plin. cap. 40 lib. 7. Nat. Hist. To which Horace alludes, lib. 1. ode 36. Cressd ne caveat pulchra dies notd. And the other, Plin. epist. 11. lib. 6. diem latum ^ notandumque mild cctndidissimo calculi). With many other in many places. Mart. lib. 8. ep. 45. lib. 9- ep. 53. lib. 10. ep. 38. lib. 11. ep. 37. Stat. lib. 4. sy- 6. Pers. sat. 2. Catu/i epig. 69, SfC. a The Parcoe, or Fates, Martian us calls them scribas ac libra- rias superum-; whereof Clotho is said to be the eldest, signifying in Latin Evucatio. b Those beforementioned of the Britain, Roman, Saxon, &c. and to this register of the Fates allude those verses of Ovid, Met. 15. Cernes illic molimine vasto. Ex are, et solido rerum tabularia ferro : Qua neque concussum tali, neque Julminis iram i Ncc metuunt ullas tula atque aterua ruinas. Invenies Hits incisa adamante perenni Fata, SfC * I wish you more of plagues .] There was little occasion for 440 PART OF THE Leaves to be zeal. Up, thou tame River, wake ; And from thy liquid limbs this clumber shake: Thou drown'st thyself in inofficious sleep; And these thy sluggish waters seem to creep, Rather than flow. Up, rise, and swell with pride Above thy banks: Now is not every tide. T A M E S I S. To what vain end should I contend to show My weaker powers, when seas of pomp o'erflow The city's face : and cover all the shore With sands more rich than Tagus' wealthy ore? When in the flood of joys that comes with him, He drowns the world ; yet makes it live and swim, And spring with gladness : not my fishes here, Though they be dumb, but do express the cheer Of those bright streams : no less may these and I e Boast our delights, albeit we silent lie. GENIUS. Indeed true gladness doth not always speak : Joy bred and born but in the tongue, is weak. Yet (lest the fervor of so pure a flame As this my city bears, might lose the name Without the apt eventing of her heat) Know, greatest JAMES, and no less good than great, In the behalf of all my virtuous sons* Whereof my eldest there thy pomp foreruns,* this. The city was about this time suffering severely from the one they had. More than thirty thousand people, as we learn from Wilson, died of it this year in London only. c Understanding Euphrosyne, Seba>is, Prothymia, &c. d The lord mayor, who for his year hath senior place of the rest, and for this day was chief Serjeant to the king. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 441 (A man without my flattering, or his pride, As worthy, as he's blest e to be thy guide) In his grave name, and all his brethren's right, Who thirst to drink the nectar of thy sight, The council, commoners, and multitude ; Glad that this day, so long denied, is view'd, I tender thee the heartiest welcome, yet, That ever king had to his empire's seat : f Never came man more long'd for, more desired; And being come, more reverenced, loved, ad- mired : Hear and record it : " In a prince it is " No little virtue, to know who are his." With like devotions, 5 do I stoop t'embrace This springing glory of thy godlike race ; h His country's wonder, hope, love, joy, and pride : How well doth he become the royal side Of this erected and broad-spreading tree, Under whose shade may Britain ever be ! And from this branch may thousand branches more Shoot o'er the main, and knit with every shore In bonds of marriage, kindred and increase ; And style this land the navel of their peace; 1 This is your servants wish, your cities vow, Which still shall propagate u&elf, with you ; e Above the blessing of his present office, the word had some particular allusion to his name, which is Bennct, and hafh (no doubt) in time been the contraction of ht/iedict. [Sir lhomai Bennet was now Lord Mayor.] { The city, which title is touched before. 8 To the Prince. b An attribute given to great persons, fitly above other hu- manity, and in frequent use with all the Greek pjets, especially Homer, Iliad a. li<& 'A^jAAswj. And in the same book - xj avnSeOv Il&Xuf >j/xov. 1 As Luctatius calls Parnassus, umbilicum tcrrcc. 442 PART OF THE And free from spurs of hope, that slow minds move : " He seeks no hire, that owes his life to love." And here she comes that is no less a part k In this day's greatness, than in my glad heart. Glory of queens, and glory of your name, 1 Whose graces do as far outspeak your fame, As fame doth silence, when her trumpet rings You daughter, sister, wife of several kings: Besides alliance, and the style of mother, In which one title you drown all your other. Instance, be that fair shoot, is gone before," Your eldest joy, and top of all your store, With those, whose sight to us is yet denied, But not our zeal to them, or aught beside The city can to you : for whose estate She hopes you will be still good advocate To her best lord. So, whilst you mortal are, No taste of sour mortality once dare Approach your house ; nor fortune greet your grace, But coming on, and with a forward face. k To the queen. 1 An emphatical speech, and well reinforcing her greatness; being, by this match, more than either her brother, father, &c. m Daughter to Frederick II. king of Denmark and Norway, sister to Christierne IV. now there reigning, and wife to James our sovereign. n The prince Henry Frederick. Charles duke of Rothsey, and the lady Elizabeth. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 443 AT TEMPLE-BAR. The Scene carried the frontispiece of a temple,* the walls of which and gates were brass ; their pillars silver, their capitals and bases gold : in the highest point of all was erected a Janus' head, and over it written, JANO QUADRIFRONTI SACRUM.' Which title of Quadrifrons is said to be given him, as he respecteth all climates, and fills all parts of the world with his majesty : which Mar- tial would seem to allude unto in that hendeca- syllable, Et lingua pariter locutus omni.* Others have thought it by reason of the four elements, which brake out of him, being Chaos: for Ovid is not afraid to make Chaos and Janus the same, in these verses, Me Chaos antiqui (nam sum res prisca) vocabant, Adspice, fyc. r But we rather follow, and that more particu- larly, the opinion of the ancients,* who have en- titled him Quadrifrons, in regard of the year, which, under his sway, is divided into four sea- sons, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, and * Carried the frontispiece of a temple.'] " The height of the whole edifice, from the ground. line to the top, was fifty-seven foot, the full breadth of it eighteen foot ; the thickness of the passage twelve." Decker. p Bassus apud Macrob. I. i. Satur. cap. 9. 3 Lib. 8. ep. 2. ' Fast. lib. 1. * Lege Marlianumj lib. 4. cap. 8. Alb. in dcorum. 444 PART OF THE ascribe unto him the beginnings and ends of things. See M. Cic.' Cumqae in omnibus rebus vim haberent maximum prima et extrema, principem in sacrificando Januin esse voluerunt, quod" ab eundo nomen est deduct um: ex quo transitiones pervite Jani, foresque in liminibus prophanarum cedium, Janua nominatur, &$c. As also the charge and custody of the whole world, by Ovid : Quicquid ubique vides, caelum, mare, nubila, terras, Omnia sunt nostra clausa patentque manu. Me penes est unum vasti custodia mundi, Ht jus vertendi cardinis omne meum est. x About his four heads he hath a wreath of gold, in which was graven this verse, TOT VULTUS MIIII NEC SATIS PUTAVI.r Signifying, that though he had four faces, yet he thought them not enough, to behold the greatness and glory of that day : beneath, under the head, was written, ET MODO SACRIFICO CLUSIUS ORE VOCOR.* For being open, he was styled Patulcius, but then upon the coming of his majesty, being to be shut, he was to be called Clusius. Upon the outmost front of the building was placed the entire arms of the kingdom, with the garter, crown, and sup- porters, cut forth as fair and great as the life, with an hexastic written underneath, all ex- pressing the dignity and power of him that should close that Temple. 1 De nat. deorum, lib, 2. u Quad Farms. Fast. ibid. y Mart. lib. 8. ep, 2, Or.* Mil. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 445 QUI DUDUM ANGUSTIS TANTUM REGNAVIT IN ORIS PARVOQUE IMPERIO SE TOTI PRjEBUIT ORBI ESSE RLGENDO PAREM, TRIA REGNA (UT NULLA DEESSET VIRTU TI FORTUNA) SUO FELICITER UNI JVNCTA SIMUL SENSIT : FAS UT SIT CREDERE VOTIS NON JAM SANGUINEA FRUITUROS PACE BRITAN- NOS. In a great frieze, below, that ran quite along the breadth of the building, were written these two verses out of Horace,* JURANDASQUE SUUM PER NOMEN PONIMUS ARAS, NIL ORITURUM ALIAS, NIL ORTUM TALE FATENTES. The first and principal person in the temple, was IRENE, or Peace ; she was placed aloft in a cant, her attire white, semined with stars, her hair loose and large : a wreath of olive on her head, on her shoulder a silver dove : in her left hand she held forth an olive branch, with an handful of ripe ears, in the other a crown of laurel, as notes of victory and plenty. By her stood P L U T U S, or Wealthy a little boy, bare-headed, his locks curled, and spangled with gold, of a fresh aspect, his body almost naked, saving some rich robe cast over him ; in his arms a heap of gold ingots to express riches, whereof he is the god. Beneath his feet lay E N Y A L I U S, or Mars, groveling, his armour scattered upon * Lib. 2. epist. t. ad. Aug. b So Cephisiodotus hath feigned him. See Paus. in Bceot. ct Phil, in lmag. contrary to Aristoph. Thcogn. Lucian, and ethers, who make him blind and deformed. 446 PART OF THE him in several pieces, and sundry sorts of wea- pons broken about him. Her word to all was UNA TRIUMPHIS INNUMERIS POTIOR. pax optima rerum Quas homini ?wvisse datum est, pax una triumphis Innumcris potior." Signifying that peace alone was better, and more to be coveted than innumerable triumphs. Be- sides, upon the right hand of her, but with some little descent, in a hemicycle was seated ESYCHIA, or Quiet, the first handmaid of Peace ; a woman of a grave and venerable aspect, attired in black, upon her head an artificial nest, out of which appeared storks heads, to manifest a sweet repose. Her feet were placed upon a cube, to shew sta- bility, and in her lap she held a perpendicular or level, as the ensign of evenness and rest: on the top of it sat an halcyon, or king's- fisher. She had lying at her feet T A R A C H E, or Tumult, in a garment, of divers but dark colours, her hair wild, and disordered, a foul and troubled face ; about her lay staves, swords, ropes, chains, hammers, stones, and such like, to express turmoil. The word was, PERAGIT TRANQUILLA POTESTAS. Quod violenta ncquit ; mandataque fortius urget Imperiosa quies. d To shew the benefit of a calm and facile power, being able to effect in a state that which no c Sil. Ital. - Claud, de Malii Theo. cons, paneg. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 447 violence can. On the other side the second hand- maid was, ELEUTH^RIA, or Liberty, her dressing white, and somewhat antique, but loose and free : her hair flowing down her back and shoulders : in her right hand she bare a club, on her left a hat, the characters of freedom and power : at her feet a cat was placed, the creature most affecting and expressing liberty. She trod on D O U L O S I S, or Servitude, a woman in old and worn garments, lean and meagre, bearing fetters on her feet and hands ; about her neck a yoke, to insinuate bon- dage, and the word NEC UNQUAM GRATIOR, alluding to that other of Claud. Nunquam libertas gratior extat Quam sub rege pio. c And intimated that liberty could never appear more graceful and lovely, than now under so good a prince. The third handmaid was SOTERIA, or Safety, a damsel in carnation, the colour sig- nifying cheer, and life ; she sat high : upon her head she wore an antique helm, and in her right hand a spear for defence, and in her left a cup for medicine : at her feet was set a pedestal, upon which a serpent rolled up did lie. Beneath was P E I R A, or Danger, a woman despoiled, and almost naked; De laud. Stil. 1. 3. 448 PART OF THE the little garment she hath left her, of several colours, to note her various disposition. Besides her lies a torch out, and her sword broken, (the instrument of her fury) with a net and wolFs- skin (the ensigns of her malice) rent in pieces. The word, TERGA DEDERE METUS, borrowed from Mart. r and implying that now all fears have turned their backs, and our safety might become security, danger being so wholly depressed, and unfurnished of all means to hurt. The fourth attendant is, E U D A I M O N I A, or Felicity, varied on the second hand, and ap- parelled richly in an embroidered robe, and mantle : a fair golden tress. In her right hand a Caduceus, the note of peaceful wisdom : in her left, a Cornucopias filled only with flowers, as a sign of flourishing blessedness ; and crowned with a garland of the same. At her feet, DYSPRAGIA, or Unhappiness, a woman bare-headed, her neck, arms, breast, and feet naked, her look hollow and pale ; she holds a Cornucopia? turned downward, with all the flowers fallen out and scattered ; upon her sits a raven, as the augury of ill fortune : and the soul was REDEUNT SATURNIA REGNA, out of Virgil,* to shew that now those golden times were returned again, wherein Peace was with us so advanced, Rest received, Liberty restored, Safety assured, and all blessedness 1 Lib. 12. ep. 6. Eclog. v. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 449 appearing in every of these virtues, her particular triumph over her opposite evil. This is the dumb argument of the frame, and illustrated with this verse of Virgil, written in the under frieze, NULLA SALUS BELLO: PACEM TE POSCIMUS OMNES." The speaking part was performed, as within the temple, where there was erected an altar, to which, at the approach of the king, appears the Flam en MARTI AXIS. 1 And to him, GENIUS URBIS. The Genius we attired before : to the Flamen we appoint this habit. A long crimson robe to witness his nobility, his tippet and sleeves white, as re- flecting on purity in his religion, a rich mantle of gold with a train to express the dignity of his function. Upon his head a hat of delicate wool,* whose top ended in a cone, and was thence called apes, according to that of Lucan, lib. 1, Attollcnsque apicem generoso vert ice flamen. This apex was covered with a fine net of yarn, 1 which they named apiculum, and was sustained h .En. 1. 11. ! One of the three Flamines that, as some think, Numa Pora- pilius first instituted ; but we rather, with Varro, take him of Romulus's institution, whereof there were only two, he, and Dialis : to whom he was next in dignity. He was always created out of the nobility, and did perform the rites to Mars, who was thought the father of Romulus. k Scaliger in conject. in Var. saith, Totus pileus, vel potius velamenta,Jlammeum dicebatur, unde flamines died. 1 To this looks that other conjecture of Varro, lib. 4. de lingua Latina : Flamines quod licio in capite velati erant semper, ac caput cinctum habebantfllo, flamines dicti. VOL. VI. G g 450 PART OF THE with a bowed twig of pomegranate tree ; m it was also in the hot time of summer to be bound with ribands, and thrown behind them, as Scaliger" teacheth. In his hand he bore a golden censer with perfume, and censing about the altar, (having first kindled his fire on the top) is interrupted by the Genius. GENIUS. Stay, what art thou, that in this strange attire, Dar'st kindle stranger and unhallow'd fire Upon this altar ? FLAM EN. Rather what art thou That dar'st so rudely interrupt my vow ? My habit speaks my name. GENIUS. A Flam en ? F L A M E N. Yes, And Martialis calFd. GENIUS. I so did guess By my short view ; but whence didst thou ascend Hither ? or how ? or to what mystic end ? - Which in their attire was called Stroppus, in their wires' Inarculum. ' "Scat. ibid, in con. Pone enim regerebant apicem, ne gravis esset sumrnis astatis caloribus. Amtntu enim, qua offendices dicc- bantur sub men turn abductis, religabant ; ut cum vellent, regercrent, eiponlpenderepermitterent. Of Mars, whose rites (as we hare touch'd before) this Fla- tten did specially celebrate. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 45] FLA MEN. The noise, and present tumult of this day, Roused me from sleep, and silence, where I lay Obscured from light; which when I wak'd to see, I wondering thought whatthis great pomp might be. When, looking in my kalendar, I found The Ides of March p were enter'd, and 1 bound With these, to celebrate the genial feast Of Anna styled Perenna, q Mars's guest/ Who, in this month of his, is yearly call'd To banquet at his altars ; and install'd A goddess with him," since she fills the year, And knits ' the oblique scarf that girts the sphere. p With us the fifteenth of March, which was the present day of this triumph : and on which the great feast of Anna Perenna (among the Romans) was yearly, and with such solemnity re- membered. Ovid. Fast. 3, Idibus est, Anna festum geniale Perennct, Haud procul d ripis, &c. n Who this Anna should be (with the Romans themselves) hath been no trifling controversy. Some have thought her fabu- lously the sister of Dido, some a nymph of Numicius, some Io, some Themis. Others an old woman of Bovilla, that fed the seditious multitude in Monte Sacro, with wafers, and fine cakes, in time of their penury : to whom, afterwards (in memory of the benefit) their peace being made with the nobles, they or- dained this feast. Yet they that have thought nearest, have missed all these, and directly imagined her the moon : and that she was called ANNA, Quia mcnsibus impleat annum, Ovid, ib. To which the vow that they used in her rites, somewhat con- firmingly alludes, which was, ut Annate, el Perennare commode liceret, Macr. Sat. lib. 1. tap. 12 r So Ovid, ibid. Fast, makes Mars speaking to her, Mensemeo coleris,junxi mea ttmpora tecum. * Nuper erat dea facta, Sf-c. Ibid. * Wnere is understood the meeting of the zodiac in March, the month wherein she is celebrated. Gg2 452 PART OF THE Whilst four-faced Janus turns his vernal look' Upon their meeting hours, as if he took High pride and pleasure. GENIUS. Sure thou still dost dream, And both thy tongue, and thought rides on the stream Of phantasy : behold here he nor she, Have any altar, fane, or deity. Stoop : read but this inscription : x and then view To whom the place is consecrate. 'Tis true That this is Janus' temple, and that now He turns upon the year his freshest brow; That this is Mars's month ; and these the Ides, Wherein his Anne was honour'd ; both the tides, Titles, and place, we know : but these dead rites Are long since buried; and new power excites More high and hearty flames. Lo, there is he, Who brings with him a greater Anne than she: T Whose strong and potent virtues have defaced * Stern Mars's statues, and upon them placed His, a and the world's best blessings : this hath brought Sweet peace to sit in that bright state she ought, Unbloody, or untroubled ; hath forced hence All tumults, fears, or other dark portents * That face wherewith he beholds the spring. x Wrif ten upon the altar, for which we refer you to page 455. * The queen :' to wliich in our inscription we spake to the king MARTE MAJORI. x The temple of Janus we apprehend to be both the house of war and peace : of war, hen it is open ; of peace, when it is shut: and that there, each over the other is interchangeably placed, to the vicissitude of times. a Which arc peace, rest, liberty, safety, &c. and were hi actively, but the world's passively. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 453 That might invade weak minds ; hath made men see Once more the face of welcome liberty : And doth in all his present acts restore That first pure world, made of the better ore. Now innocence shall cease to be the spoil Of ravenous greatness, or to steep the soil Of raised peasantry with tears and blood ; No more shall rich men, for their little good, Suspect to be made guilty ; or vile spies Enjoy the lust of their so murdering eyes : Men shall put off their iron minds, and hearts ; The time forget his old malicious arts With this new minute ; and no print remain Of what was thought the former age's stain. Back, Flamen, with thy superstitious fumes, And cense not here ; thy ignorance presumes Too much in acting any ethnic rite In this translated temple : here no wight To sacrifice, save my devotion, comes, That brings, instead of those thy masculinegums, 1 My city's heart ; which shall for ever burn Upon this altar, and no time shall turn The same to ashes : here I fix it fast, Flame bright, flame high, and may it ever last. Whilst I, before the figure of thy peace, Still tend the fire ; and give it quick increase With prayers, wishes, vows ; whereof be these The least, and weakest : that no age may leese b Somewhat a strange epithet in our tongue, but proper to the thing : for they were only masculine odours, which wore offered to the altars, Virg. Eel. 8. Verbenasque adule pingucis, et mascula thura. And Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 12. cap. 14. speaking of these, saith, Quod ex rotuiiditate guttoe pependit ,masculum voce miis, cum alias non fere mas vocctur, ubi non sit famina : relight i tri- butum ne sexus alter usurparetur. Masculum uliqui putant cL t-ptcic testium dictum. See him also lib. 34. cap. 11. And Arnob. lib. 7. adxers. gent, Non si milk tu pondera masculi thuris incendas, 8cc. . 454 PART OF THE The memory of this so rich a day ; But rather that it henceforth yearly may Begin our spring, and with our spring the prime. And first account of years, of months, of time : - And may these Ides as fortunate appear To thee, as they to Caesar fatal were.' Be ail thy thoughts born perfect, aud thy hopes In their events still crown'd beyond their scopes. Let not wide heav'n that secret blessing know- To give, which she on thee will not bestow. Blind Fortune be thy slave; and may her store, The less thou seek'st it, follow thee the more. Much more I would : but see, these brazen gates [Make haste to close, as urged by thy fates. Here ends my city's office, here it breaks : Yet with my tongue, and this pure heart, she speaks A short farewell : and lower than thy feet, With fervent thanks, thy royal pains doth greet. Pardon, if my abruptness breed disease ; " He merits not to offend, that hastes to please." c According to Romulus his institution, who made March the first month, and consecrated it to his father, of whom it was called Martius. Varr. Fest. in frag. Martins mensis initium anni fait, et in La do, et post Romam conditam, fyc. And Ovid. Fast. 3. A te principiitm Romano dicimus anno : Primus de patrio nomine mensis erit. Vox rata Jit, Spc See Macr. lib. 1. cap. 12. and Solin. in Polyhist. cap. 3. Quod hoc mense mercedes cxolverint magistris, quas completas annus debcri fecisse, Spc. d Some, to whom we have read this, have taken it for a tau- tology, thinking Time enough expressed before in years and mouths. For whose ignorant sakes we must confess to have taken the better part of this travail, in noting a thing not usual, nei- ther affected of us, but where there is necessity, as here, to avoid their dull censures. Where in years and months we alluded to that is observed in our former note : but by Time we under- stand the present, and that from this instant we should begin to reckon, and make this the first of our time. Which is also to be helped by emphasis. * In which he was slain in the senate. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 455 Over the Altar was written this Inscription : D. I. O. M. BRITANNIARUM. IMP. PACIS. VINDICI. MARTE. MAJORI. P. P. F. S. AUGUSTO. NOVO. GENTIUM. CONJUNCTARUM. NU- MINI. TUTELAR!. D. A. CONSERVATRICI. ANNjE. IPSiE. PEREN- Ni. DEABUSQUE.UNIVERSIS. OPTATIORI. SUI. FORTUNATISSIMI. THALAMI. SOCLE. ET CONSORTI. PULCHERRIMjE. AUGUS- TISSIMiE. ET H. F. P. FILIO. SUO. NOBILISSIMO. OB. ADVEN- TUM. AD. URBEM. HANC. SUAM. EXPEC- TATISSIMUM. GRATISSIMUM. CELEBRA- TISSIMUM. CUJUS. NON. RADII. SED. SOLES. POTIUS. FUNESTISSIMAM. NUPER. AERIS. INTEMPERIEM. SERENARUNT. S. P. Q. L. VOTIS. X. VOTIS. XX. ARDENTISSIMIS. L. M. HANC. ARAM. P. And upon the Gate, being shut, IMP. JACOBUS MAX. CiESAR. AUG. P. P. PACE POPULO BRITANNICO TERRA MARIQUE PARTA JANUM CLUSIT. S. C. 456 PART OF THE IN THE STRAND. The invention was a rainbow, the moon, sun, and those seven stars, which antiquity hath styled the Pleiades or Vergil iae, advanced between two magnificent pyramids of seventy foot in height, on which were drawn his majesty's several pedi- grees Eng. and Scot. To which body (being framed before) we were to apt our soul. And finding that one of these seven lights, Electra, is rarely or not at all to be seen, as Ovid. lib. 4. Fast, affirmeth Pleiades incipient humeros relevare paternos ; Quce sept em dici, sea: tamen esse so tent. And by and by after, She quod Electra Trojce sped are ruinas Non tulit ; ante oculos opposuitque manum. And Fes t us AvienJ Fama vctus septem memorat genitore creatas Longcevo : sex se rutila inter sidera tantum Sustollunt, 8$c. And beneath, Cerni se.v solas carmine Mynthes Asserit : E lec tram ccelo abscessisse pro/undo, &c. We ventured to follow this authority, and made her the speaker : presenting her hanging in the air, in figure of a comet; according to Anonymus. Electra non sustinens videre casum pronepotum 1 Paraph, in Arat. Phnom. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 457 fugerit; unde et Mam dissolutis crinibus propter luctum ire asserutit, et propter comas quidam Cometen appellant. THE SPEECH. ELECTRA. The long laments 8 I spent for ruin'd Troy, Are dried ; and now mine eyes run tears of joy. No more shall men suppose Electra dead, Though from the consort of her sisters fled Unto the arctic circle," here to grace, And gild this day with her serenest face :' And see, my daughter Iris k hastes to throw Her roseat wings, in compass of a bow, About our state, as sign ' of my approach : Attracting to her seat from Mithra's coach," R Fest. Avi. paraph. Pars ait Idxce dejkntem incendia Trojx, Et numerosa sua? lugentem J'unera gentis, Ekctram telris masstum dare nubibus orbem. Besides the reference to antiquity, this speech-miglit be understood by allegory of the town here, that had been so ruined with sickness, &c. h Hyginus. Sed postqunm Troja fuit capta, et progenies ejus qua? a Dardano fuit tversa, dolore permutam ab his se rcmovisse, et in circulo qui arclicus dicitur constitisse, SfC 1 Electra signifies serenity itsell, and is compounded of ijX<(^, which is the sun, and a$pi&, that signifies serene. She is men- tioned to be Anima sphwra: so/is, by Proclus. Com. in Hesiod. k She is also feigned to be the mother of the rain-bow. Nas- citur enim Iris ex aqua et serenitate, a refractione rudiorum scilicet. Arist. in met cor ol. 1 Val. Elac. Argonaut. 1. makes the rainbow indicem serenL tatis. Etnicuit reserata dies calumque resohit Arcus, ct in summos redierunt nubila montes. " A name of the sun, Stat. The. I. 1. toiqucntem cornua Mi. than. And Martian. Capel. 1. 3.dc nup Mcr. et Phil. Te Serapim. Nilutf Memphis veneratur Osirin ; Dissona sacra Mithran, fyc. 458 PART OF THE A thousand different and particular hues, Which she throughout her body doth diffuse. The sun, as loth to part from this half sphere, Stands still ; and Phoebe labours to appear In all as bright, if not as rich, as he : And, for a note of more serenity, My six n fair sisters hither shift their lights, To do this hour the utmost of her rites. Where lest the captious, or profane might doubt, How these clear heavenly bodies come about All to be seen at once ; yet neither's light Eclips'd, or shadow'd by the other's sight: Let ignorance know, great king, this day is thine, And doth admit no night ; but all do shine As well nocturnal, as diurnal fires, To add unto the flame of our desires. Which are, now thou hast closed up Janus' gates,' And given so general peace to all estates, That no offensive mist, or cloudy stain, May mix with splendor of thy golden reign ; But, as thou'st freed thy Chamber from the noise' Of war and tumult ; thou wilt pour those joys Upon this place, q which claims to be the seat r Of all the kingly race : the cabinet To all thy counsels ; and the judging chair To this thy special kingdom. Whose so fair Alcyone, Celaeno y Taygete, Asterope, Merope, Maia, which are also said to be the souls of the other spheres, as Electro, of the sun Proclus, ibi in com. Alcyone Veneris^ Celtrno Saturni, Taygete Luna, Asterope Jovis, Metope Martis, Maia Mercurii. Alluding back to that of our temple. p London. * His city of Westminster, in whose name, and at whose charge, together with the dutchy of Lancaster, this arch was erected. r Since here, they not only sat being crowned, but also first received their crowns. KING'S ENTERTAINMENT. 459 And wholesome laws, in every court, shall strive By equity, and their first innocence to thrive; The base and guilty bribes of guiltier men Shall be thrown back, and justice look, as when She loved the earth, and fear'd not to be sold For that,' which worketh all things to it, gold. The dam of other evils, avarice, Shall here lock down her jaws, and that rude vice Of ignorant aud pitied greatness, pride, Decline with shame; ambition now shall hide Her face in dust, as dedicate to sleep, That in great portals wont her watch to keep. All ills shall fly the light : thy court be free No less from envy, than from flattery ; All tumult, faction, and harsh discord cease, That might perturb the music of thy peace : The querulous nature shall no longer find Room for his thoughts : one pure consent of mind Shall flow in every breast, and not the air, Sun, moon, or stars shine more serenely fair. This from that loud, blest oracle, I sing, Who here, and first, pronounced thee Britain's king. Long may'st thou live, and see me thus appear, As ominous a comet, 1 from my sphere, Unto thy reign ; as that did auspicate u So lasting glory to Augustus' state. s Hot. Car. lib. 4. ode 9. Ducentis ad se cuncta pecuniae. 1 For our more authority to induce her thus, see Fest. Avien. paraph, in Arat. speaking of Electro, Nonnuuquam oceani tatnen islam surgere ab vndis, In convexa puli, sed sede carere sororum ; Atque os discretum procul edere, dttestatam : Gtrmanosque c/ioros subolis lacrj/mare ruinas Diffusamque comas cer/ii, crinisque soluti Monstrari effigie, &c. u All comets were not fatal, some were fortunately ominous, as this (o which we allude ; and wherefore we have Pliny's testimony, Nat. Hist. lib. 2. cap. 25. Cometes in uno totius orbis 460 PART, &c. loco colitur in templo Romce, admodum faustus Divo Augustojudi- catus ab ipso : qui incipiente eo, apparuit ludis quos faciebat Veneri Genet rici) non multo post obitum patris Casaris, in collegio ab eo instituto. Namque his verbis id gaudium prodidit. lis ipsis ludorum meorun) diebus, sydus crinitum per septem dies in regione coeli, quae sub septentrionibus est, conspectum. Id oriebatur circa un- decimam horam diei, clarumque et omnibus terris conspicuum fuit. Eo sydere significari vulgus credidit, Caesaris anitnam inter Deorum immortalium numina receptam : quo nomine id insigne simulacro capitis ejus, quod mox in foro consecrayimusj adjec- turn est. Hcec ille in publicum, interiore gaudio sihi ilium natum seque in eo nasci interpretatus est. Et si verumfatemur^ salutare id terris fuit. There is a considerable degree of fancy as well as learning displayed in this laboured show, of which the reader has here but two-fifths. The remaining three may be found in Decker, who has also given an abridgement of Jonson's share of the pageant. We hare heard much of the expenses incurred by the temporary erections for the celebration of the late peace ; but they shrink to nothing before the cost of the " Entertainments" prepared for the receptiou of James. Many of the platforms were of an enormous bulk and height, as were several of the arches. It appears that the citizens began their preparations immediately on the decease of Elizabeth : they were interrupted by the plague, but resumed as soon as the danger was over, and continued to the period of the royal entry. Exclusively of the moulders, plumbers, painters, smiths, &c. who were very numerous, there were employed 80 joiners, 60 carpenters, 30 sawyers, and about 70 common labourers who wrought without intermission. The whole of the machinery was under the direction of Stephen Harrison, the chief joiner, as he is called. The name of Inigo Jones does net occur in the li&t of architects given by Decker. A PANEGYRE ON THE HAPPY ENTRANCE OF JAMES, OUR SOVEREIGN, TO HIS FIRST HIGH SESSION OF PARLIAMENT IN THIS HIS KINGDOM, THE 19th OF MARCH, 1603. Licet toto nunc Helicone frui. Mart. Heaven now not strives, alone, our breasts to fill With joys ; but urgeth his full favours still. Again, the glory of our western world Unfolds himself; and from his eyes are hurl'd To-day, a thousand radiant lights that stream To every nook and angle of his realm. His former rays did only clear the sky; But these his searching beams are cast, to pry Into those dark and deep concealed vaults, Where men commit black incest with their faults, And snore supinely in the stall of sin : Where murther, rapine, lust, do sit within, Carousing human blood in iron bowls, And make their den the slaughter-house of souls: From whose foul reeking caverns first arise Those damps, that so offend all good men's eyes, And would, if not dispers'd, infect the crown, And in their vapour her bright metal drown. 462 APANEGYRE. To this so clear and sanctified an end, I saw, when reverend Themis did descend Upon his state : let down in that rich chain, That fast'neth heavenly power to earthly reign : Beside her stoop'd on either hand, a maid, Fair Dice, and Eunomia, who were said To be her daughters; and but faintly known On earth, till now, they come to grace his throne. Her third, Irene, help'd to bear his train ; And in her office vow'd she would remain, Tiil foreign malice, or unnatural spight (Which fates avert) should force her from her right. With these he pass'd, and with his people's hearts, Breath'd in his way ; and souls, their better parts, Hasting to follow forth in shouts, and cries, Upon his face all threw their covetous eyes, As on a wonder : some amazed stood, As if they felt, but had not known their good. Other would fain have shewn it in their words ; But, when their speech so poor a help affords Unto their zeal's expression, they are mute ; And only with red silence him salute. Some cry from tops of houses; thinking noise The fittest herald to proclaim true joys ; Others on ground run gazing by his side, All,' as unwearied, as unsatisfied: And every window grieved it could not move Along with him, and the same trouble prove. They that had seen, but four short days before, His gladding look, now long'd to see it more. And as of late, when he through London went, The amorous city spared no ornament, That might her beauties heighten ; but so drest, As our ambitious dames, when they make feast, And would be courted : so this town put on Her brightest tire ; a,nd in it equal shone A PANEGYRE. 463 To her great sister ; save that modesty, Her place, and years, gave her precedency. The joy of either was alike, and full ; No age, nor sex, so weak, or strongly dull, That did not bear a part in this consent Of heart, and voices. All the air was rent, As with the murmur of a moving wood ; The ground beneath did seem a moving flood ; Walls, windows, roofs, tow'rs, steeples, all were set With several eyes, that in this object met. Old men were glad their fates till now did last; And infants, that the hours had made such haste, To bring them forth : whilst riper aged, and apt To understand the more, the more were rapt. This was the people's love, with which did strive The nobles zeal, yet either kept alive The other's flame, as doth the wick and wax, That, friendly temper'd, one pure taper makes. Meanwhile the reverend Themis draws aside The king's obeying will, from taking pride In these vain stirs, and to his mind suggests How he may triumph in his subjects' breasts, With better pomp. She tells him first, " That kings "Are here on earth the most conspicuous things : " That they, byheav'n are placed upon his throne, "Torulelikeheav'n ; and havenomore theirown, " As they are men, than men. That all they do u Though hid at home, abroad is search'd into: " And being once found out, discover'd lies " Unto as many envies there, as eyes. <4 That princes, since they know it is their fate, " Oft-times, to have the secrets of their state " Betray'd to fame, should take more care, and fear " In public acts what face and form they bear. 464 A PANEGYRE. " She then remember'd to his thought the place " Where he was going ; and the upward race u Of kings, preceding him in that high court ; "Their laws, their ends ; the men she did report : " And all so justly, as his ear was joy 'd "To hear the truth, from spightor flattery void. " She shew'd him who made wise, who honest acts ; " Who both, who neither : all the cunning tracts, "And thriving statutes, shecould promptly note; " The bloody, base, and barbarous she did quote ; " Where laws were made to serve the tyrant's will; u . Where sleeping they could save, and waking kill; " Where acts gave license to impetuous lust " To bury churches in forgotten dust, " And with their ruins raise the pander's bowers: " When public justice borrow'd all her powers " From private chambers; that could then create " Lav's, judges, counsellors, yea, prince and state. " All this she told, and more, with bleeding eyes; " For Right is as compassionate as wise." Nor did he seem their vices so to love, As once defend, what Themis did reprove. For though by right, and benefit of times, He own'd their crowns, he would not so their crimes. He knew that princes, who had sold their fame To their voluptuous lusts, had lost their name; And that no wretch was more unblest than he, Whose necessary good 'twas now to be An evil king : and so must such be still, Who once have got the habit to do ill. One wickedness another must defend; For vice is sate, while she hath vice to friend. A PANEGYRE. 465 He knew that those who would with love com- mand, Must with a tender, yet a stedfast, hand Sustain the reins, and in the check forbear To offer cause of injury, or fear; That kings, by their example, more do sway Than by their power; and men do more obey When they are led, than when they are com- pell'd. In all these knowing arts our prince excell'd. And now the dame had dried her dropping eyne, When, like an April Iris, flew her shine About the streets, as it would force a spring From out the stones, to gratulate the king. She blest the people, that in shoals did swim To hear her speech ; which still began in him, And ceas'd in them. She told them what a fate Was gently falPn from heaven upon the state ; How dear a father they did now enjoy, That came to save, what discord would destroy, And entering with the power of a king, The temperance of a private man did bring, That wan affections ere his steps wan ground ; And was not hot, or covetous to be crown'd Before men's hearts had crown'd him. Who (unlike Those greater bodies of the sky, that strike The lesser fires dim) in his access Brighter than all, hath yet made no one less ; Though many greater : and the most, the best. Wherein his choice was happy with the rest Of his great actions, first to see, and do What all men's wishes did aspire unto. Hereat the people could no longer hold Their bursting joys; but through the air was roll'cl vol. vi. H h 466 A PAN EG Y RE. The lengthen'd shout, as when th' artillery Of heaven is discharg'd along the sky. And this confession flew from every voice, " Never had land more reason to rejoice, "Nor to her bliss could aught now added be, " Save, that she might the same perpetual see." Which when time, nature, and the fates denied, With a twice louder shout again they cried, " Yet let blest Britain ask, without your wrong, " Still to have such a king, and this king long." Solus rex et poeta non quotannis nascitur* * Jonson seems pleased with this vigorous panegyric, of which, to speak modestly, he has no reason to be ashamed. Advice is judiciously mixed with praise ; and seldom has an English prince been addressed with language at once so manly, so tree, and yet so skilfully complimentary. In the poet's time there was no example of it yet he is never mentioned by the com- mentators, but as the parasite of kings he, who gave them more judicious counsel and told them more wholesome truths, than all the dramatic writers of the age, together. THE SATYR. The Satyr.] The title stands thus in the folio 1616. "A Particular Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althrope, at the Right Honourable the Lord Spencer's, on Saturday, being the 25th of June, 1603, as they came first into the Kingdom." The Queen, ami prince Henry, in their journey from Edinburgh to London, came from Holdenby to Nor- thampton, where they were received in great state by the municipal magistrates. James, who had joined them at Eaton, the seat of sir G. Fermor, in Northamptonshire, passed forward, but the Queen and Prince were prevailed upon to take up their residence for a few days at the seat of sir Robert Spencer, about four miles from the town. It was on this occasion that this exquisite " Entertainment" was presented to them as they entered the park and grounds at Althorpe. It it easy, or rather, it is not easy, to conceive the surprise and delight with which queen Anne, who had a natural taste for these elegant and splendid exhibitions, must have witnessed the present ; she who in Denmark had seen perhaps no royal amusement but drinking-bouts, and in Scotland been regaled with nothing better than M ane goodly ballad called Philotas," or the ribaldry of the Lion King, as his countrymen delight to call sir David Lyndsay, in the interminable " Satyre of the three Eistatis." In somewhat less than a month after the date of this Enter, tainment, sir Robert Spencer was advanced to the dignity of a baron. " He was," says Fuller, " the fifth knight of his family in an immediate succession, well allied and well extracted, being descended from the Spencers, earls of Gloucester and Win- chester. In the first year of king James (31st July, 1603,) he was created baron Spencer of Warmleiton in the county of Warwick. He was a good patriot, of a quick and clear spirit." Fuller might have extended his panegyric without any violation of truth. THE SATYR. A Satyr, lodged in a little spinet* by which her Ma- jesty and the Prince were to come, at the report of certain cornets that were divided in several places of the park, to signify her approach, advanced his head above the top of the wood, wondering, and, with his pipe in his hand, began asfolloweth : Here ! there ! and every where ! Some solemnities are near, That these changes strike mine ear. My pipe and I a part shall bear. [After a short strain with his pipe ; Look, see ! beshrew this tree! What may all this wonder be ? Pipe it who that list for me : I'll fly felt abroad, and see. [Here he leaped down, and gazed the Queen and the Prince in the face. That is Cyparissus' face ! a And the dame hath Syrinx' grace ! 1 A little spinet.] i. e. a. copse of young wood. Whal. * That is Cyparissus' face, ,] This is not mere compliment, for the Prince, if we may trust the writers of those times, was a very handsome youth. Milton has numerous obligations to this little piece, as, indeed, he has to most of those which follow, in the present, and subse- quent volume. 470 THE SATYR. that Pan were now in place Sure they are of heavenly race. Here he ran into the wood again, and hid himself \ whilst to the sound of excellent soft music, that zvas concealed in the thicket, there came tripping up the lawn a bevy of Fairies, attending on Mab their queen, who falling into an artificial ring, began to dance a round, while their mistress spake asfolloweth. Mab, Hail and welcome, worthiest queen ! Joy had never perfect been, To the nymphs that haunt this green, Had they not this evening seen. Now they print it on the ground With their feet in figures round ; Marks that will be ever found, To remember this glad stound. 3 Sat, [Peeping out of' the bush.] Trust her not, you bonnibell, She will forty leasings tell ; 1 do know her pranks right well. Mab. Satyr, we must have a spell For your tongue, it runs too fleet. Sat. Not so nimbly as your feet, When about the cream-bowls sweet, You and all your elves do meet. \Hert he came hopping forth, and mixing himself with the Fairies, skipped in, out, and about their circle, while they made many offers to catch at him. ' To remember this glad stound.] i. e. time or season. It is so used by our old poets. Wuxu THE SATYR. 471 This is Mab, the mistress Fairy,* That doth nightly rob the dairy, And can hurt or help the cherning, As she please, without discerning. 1 Fai. Pug, you will anon take warning ? Sat. She that pinches country wenches, If they rub not clean their benches, And with sharper nails remembers When they rake not up their embers: But if so they chance to feast her, In a shoe she drops a tester. 2 Fai. Shall we strip the skipping jester? Sat. This is she that empties cradles, Takes out children, puts in ladles : Trains forth midwives in their slumber, With a sieve the holes to number; And then leads them from her burrows, Home through ponds and water- furrows. 1 Fai. Shall not all this mocking stir us ? + This is Mab, &c] This fairy mythology, which has been copied by Milton, and which has sufficient beauty to make it familiar to eTery reader of poetry, is quoted by Mr. Brand in his " Popular Antiquities," from a scarce book in his possession! This is also the case with many other passages of Jonson, which are given with all due mystery, at the hundreth hand, from some " rare treatise in the author's collection" 5 Pug, you will anon take warning.'] Mr. Malone says in his Second Appendix. " There is, 1 believe, ?io instance of a triplet being used in Shakspeare's time." p. 57. To go no further ; there are at least half a dozen instances in this little piece. But Mr. Malone was grossly ignorant of Jonson : igno- rance, however, is but a wretched apology for calumny. 472 THE SATYR. Sat. She can start our Franklin's daughters, In her sleep, with shrieks and laughters ; And on sweet St. Anna's night, 6 Feed them with a promised sight, Some of husbands, some of lovers, Which an empty dream discovers. 1 Fat. Satyr, vengeance near you hovers. Sat. And in hope that you would come here Yester-eve, the lady Summer* She invited to a banquet But (in sooth) I con you thank yet, That you could so well deceive her Of the pride which gan up-heave her ! And, by this, would so have blown her As no wood- god should have known her. [_Skips into the wood. 1 Fai. Mistress, this is ouly spite : For you would not yesteruight Kiss him in the cock-shut light.' * And on sweet St. Anna's night.~\ The old copy reads Ann, which is evidently imperfect. The feat it alludes to is sometimes said to be performed upon St. Agnes' night ; and 'Us possible this might have been the original reading. Whal. * For she was expected there on Midsummer-day at night, but came not till the day following. Here and every where in these volumes, the notes marked by the letters of the alphabet are Jonson's. 8 Kiss Kim in the cock-shut light.] That is, in the twilight. Thus Shakspeare : " Thomas the earl of Surry, and himself, Much about cock-shut time went thro' the army." Rich. Ill, A. 5. S. 3. Here the speaker evidently means the evening y or shutting in of THE SATYR. 473 Sat. [returning.] By Pan, and thou hast hit it right. Mab. Fairies, pinch him black and blue, Now you have him, make him rue. [They lay hold on him, and nip him. Sat. O, hold, [mistress] Mab I I sue.' 1 Fai. Nay, the devil shall have his due. [Here he ran quite away, and left them in a confusion. Mab. Pardon, lady, this wild strain, Common with the sylvan train, That do skip about this plain : Elves, apply your gyre again. 1 day. There is a method of catching woodcocks, in a kind of clap-net, which is called a cock-shut ; and as the time of taking them in this manner is in the twilight, cock-shut light may very properly express the e?ening. Whal. I have considerably abridged Whalley's note, which yet con- tains sufficient for the purpose of explanation, unless it may be thought not impertinent to add that the cock-shut is a large net suspended between two long poles, and stretched across a glade, or riding, in a wood, where a man is placed to watch when the birds rise, or strike against it. " In the Treatise of Fyshinge, by Juliana Barnes, 1496, is the following direction to make a rod, ' Take thenne and frette him faste with a cockc- shote cordc, &c.' but, says Steevens, from whom this is taken, I cannot interpret the word." The word is plain enough ; it means that sort of twine of which the cock-shut was made: but indeed, the commentators on Shakspeare have trilled egre- giously over this simple expression. 9 hold, [mistress] Mab ! I sue.] Mistress was inserted by Whalley. Something is evidently necessary, and this may serve ; though 1 Should have preferred another word. 1 Elves, apply your gyre again.] i. e. renew your rondels : It is well known that the fairies always danced in a circle : thus was formed the green sward ringlety whereof the ewe not bites* 474 THE SATYR. And whilst some do hop the ring, Some shall play, and some shall sing : We'll express, in ev'ry thing, Oriana's well-coming. b SONG. This is she, this is she In whose world of grace Every season, person, place, That receive her happy be ; For with no less, Than a kingdom's happiness,* Doth she private Lares bless,* And ours above the rest , By how much we deserve it least. Long live Oriana * 7" exceed, whom she succeeds, our late Diana. Mab. Madam, now an end to make, Deign a simple gift to take ; Only for the Fairies' sake, Who about you still shall wake. Tis done only to supply His suspected courtesy, fc Quasi Oritns ANNA. ' Bringing with her the prince, which is the greatest felicitjr of kingdoms. d For households. . * Long live Oriana.'] This is taken from the Triumphs of Oriana, a collection of madrigals published in 1601, and intended to commemorate the beauty, and inflexible virginity of Elizabeth, then only in the sixty-eighth year of her age. Long live f aire Oriana, is the burthen of several of these little pieces. Jonson's derivation of this word, as applied to Anne, is not unhappy : Elizabeth's title to it could only have originated in the old court maxim Quicquid conspicuum pulchrumqueResJisci est. THE SATYR. 475 Who, since Thamyra did die,' Hath not brook'd a lady's eye, Nor allow'd about his place, Any of the female race. Only we are free to trace All his grounds, as he to chase. For which bounty to us lent, Of him unknowledg'd, or unsent, We prepared this compliment, And as far from cheap intent, [Gives her a jewel,* In particular to feed Any hope that should succeed, Or our glory by the deed, As yourself are from the need. Utter not, we you implore, Who did give it, nor wherefore: And whenever you restore Your self to us, you shall have more. Highest, happiest queen, farewell; But beware you do not tell.' 3 Who, since Thamyra did die, &c] Thamyra (the beloved consort of this nobleman,) was the daughter of sir Francis Willoughby; she died August 17th, 1597, leaving several children. There is nothing strained or exaggerated in what is here said of lord Spencer's attachment to his lady's memory ; for though he survived her nearly thirty years, he took no second wife. 4 A jewel.'] i. e. a brooch or other ornament for the person. The marginal note is from the old copy. s But beware you do not tell.] This solemn injunction, which i6 twice given, alludes to the received notion of the danger of betraying the partiality of the fairies, who were extremely 476 THE SATYR. Here the Fairies hopt away in a fantastic dance, when, on a sudden, the Satyr discovered himself again. Sat, Not tell? ha! ha! I could smile At this old and toothless wile. Lady, I have been no sleeper ; She belies the noble keeper. Say, that here he like the groves, And pursue no foreign loves : Is he therefore to be deem'd Rude, or savage? or esteem'd But a sorry entertainer, 'Cause he is no common strainer, After painted nymphs for favours, Or that in his garb he savours Little of the nicety, In the sprucer courtiery ; As the rosary of kisses, With the oath that never misses, This, " believe me on the breast," And then telling some man's jest, Thinking to prefer his wit, Equal with his suit by it, I mean his clothes ? No, no, no ; Here doth no such humour flow. He can neither bribe a grace, Nor encounter my lord's face With a pliant smile, and flatter, Though this lately were some matter ' delicate on this head, and never allowed their favours to be boasted of with impunity. See vol. iii. p. 476. Though this lately were some matter, &c] There is probably something of private history in this gentle gird at the ministers of Elizabeth ; but I cannot explain it. If flattery was at all necessary to gain the favourite, sir Robert Spencer would never bare succeeded at court ; but, indeed, he seems to have been THE SATYR. 477 To the making of a courtier. Now he hopes he shall resort there, Safer, and with more allowance ; Since a hand hath governance, That hath given these customs chace, And hath brought his own in place. O that now a wish could bring, The god-like person of a king ! Then should even envy find, Cause of wonder at the mind Of our woodman : but lo, where His kingly image doth appear/ And is all this while neglected. Pardon, lord, you are respected, Deep as is the keeper's heart, And as dear in every part. See, for instance, where he sends His son, his heir ; 8 who humbly bends [Fetches out of the wood the lord Spen- cer's eldest son, attired and appointed like a huntsman. Low as is his father's earth, To the womb that gave you birth : a man of retired habits. M Like the old Roman dictator," says Wilson, " Spencer made the country a virtuous court, where his fields and flocks brought him more calm and happy con- tentment than the various and irritable dispensations of a court can contribute." Why sir Robert was now absent from Althorpe does not appear: perhaps (though this is not very likely) he had been selected by James to accompany him to Theobalds. He was at Hampton Court in July this year, and in the September following, was appointed ambassador to the reigning duke of Wirtemburg ; so that there was something prophetic in the " hope" that he should now " resort to court with more allowance." 7 His kingly image.] i, e. Prince Henry. * John Spencer : he was now in his twelfth year. He died in Franc* at the age of nineteen. 478 THE SATYR. So he was directed first, Next to you, of whom the thirst Of seeing takes away the use Of that part, should plead excuse For his boldness, which is less By his comely shamefacedness. Rise up, sir, I will betray All I think you have to say ; That your father gives you here (Freely as to him you were) To the service of this prince : And with you these instruments Of his wild and sylvan trade. Better not Actaeon had; The bow was Phoebe's, and the horn, By Orion often worn : The dog of Sparta breed,' and good, As can ring within a wood ; Thence his name is : you shall try How he hunteth instantly. But perhaps the queen, your mother, Rather doth affect some other . Sport, as coursing: we will prove Which her highness most doth love. Satyrs, let the woods resound ; They shall have their welcome crown'd With a brace of bucks to ground. * The dog of Sparta breed.] Thus Shakspeare : " I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete, they bayed the boar With hounds of Sparta." Both from Ovid's Spartana gente Melampus. Jonson's dog, it appears, was called Ringwood. THE SATYR. 479 At that the whole wood and place resounded with the noise of cornets, horns, and other hunting music, and a brace of choice deer put out, and as fortu- nately killed, as they were meant to be, even in the sight of' her majesty. This was the first night's show. 1 The next day being Sunday, the Queen rested, and on Monday till after dinner ; where there was a speech suddenly thought on, to induce a morris of the clowns thereabout, who most officiously pre- sented themselves ; but by reason of the throng of the country that came in, their speaker could not be heard, who was in the person of Nobody, to deliver this following speech, and attired in a pair of breeches which were made to come up to his 1 This was the first night's show."} And every way worthy of the presenter and the guests. The rich and beautiful scenery the music, soft or loud as the occasion required, dispersed through the wood, the sweetness of the vocal performers, the bevy of fairies, composed of the young ladies " of the country," (whosebrothersappeared in the succeeding "sports,") the gay and appropriate dialogue, the light, airy, and fantastic dances which accompanied it, the foresters, headed by the youthful heir, starting forward to chase the deer at force at the universal opening of hound and horn, together with the running down of the game in sight, must have afforded a suc- cession of pleasures as rare as unexpected. It is very easy to stigmatize all this with the name of " pe- dantry," and to rave with Mr. Malone, at" the wretched taste of the times," which could tolerate it : But there are still some who affect to think that this taste was not altogether so deplorable ; and that nearly as much judgment was displayed in engaging the talents of a man of genius and learning to pro- duce an Entertainment which should not disgrace the rational faculties of the beholders, as in procuring the assistance of a pastry cook to honour a general festival by scrawling unmean- ing flourishes on a ball-room floor, at an expense beyond that of the graceful and elegant hospitality of Althorpe. 480 THE SATYR. neck, with his arms out at his pockets, and a cap drowning his face. If my outside move your laughter, Pray Jove, my inside be thereafter. Queen, prince, duke, earls, Countksses, you courtly pearls ! (And I hope no mortal sin, If I put less ladies in) Fair saluted be you all ! At this time it doth befall, We are the huisher to a morris, A kind of masque, whereof good store is In the country hereabout, But this, the choice of all the rout, Who, because that no man sent them, Have got Nobody to present them. These are things have no suspicion Of their ill-doing ; nor ambition Of their well : but as the pipe Shall inspire them, mean to skip : They come to see, and to be seen, And though they dance afore the queen, There's none of these doth hope to come by Wealth to build another Holmby : * * And though they dance afore the queen, There's none of these doth hope to come by Width to build another Holmby : j Holmby, or Holdenby house, was a magnificent structure in the neighbourhood of Althorpe, built by sir Christopher Hatton, lord chancellor in the time of queen Elizabeth, as the last and noblest monument of his youth. Sir Christopher Hatton wa9 taken notice of by queen Elizabeth for his gracefulness in dancing before her at court, which proved the first step to his future preferments. To this circumstance the first of these lines alludes. Whal. In l.ishop Corbett's Iter Bortale there is a pleasant apo. strophe to the tutelar Lars, the giants, with whom sir Chris- topher had ornamented this magnificent mansion. The traveller THE SATYR. 481 All those dancing days are done, Men must now have more than one had just witnessed the ruins of Nottingham Castle, notwith- standing the two giants, which still stood at the gates ; and he reproaches them with the fidelity of their brethren at Holmeby and Guildhall, who had carefully kept the respective buildings intrusted to them. " Oh you that doe Guild-hall and Holmeby keepe Soe carefully, when both the founders sleepe, You are good giants, and partake no shame With those two worthlesse trunkes of Nottinghame ; Look to your several charges !" Gilchrist's edit. p. 183. The praise was not ill bestowed ; and the Giants of Holmeby would still perhaps have preserved their charge, if they had had only to contend with ordinary enemies ; but they fell by a lawless force, before which not only castles, but empires have disappeared. It was here that Charles was seized by the vulgar miscreant Joyce, and here, to gratify at once their malice and rapacity, the rebels, soon after his murder, broke in, levelled the mansion with the ground, and stole or sold the materials. The Giants of Guildhall, thank heaven, yet defend their charge : it only remains to wish that the citizens may take example by the fate of Holmeby, and not expose them to an attack to which they will assuredly be found unequal. It is not altogether owing to their wisdom that this has not already taken place. For twenty years they were chained to the car of a profligate buffoon, who dragged them through every species of ignominy to the verge of rebellion ; and their Hall is even yet disgraced with the statue of a worthless negro-monger, in th# act of insulting their sovereign with a speech, of which (factious and brutal as he was) he never uttered one syllable. To return to the text. Dancing, as Jonson says, is a graceful quality where graces meet ; and it was remarkably so in sir Christopher, who was found fully equal to the exigencies of his great office. He died in 1591, and was followed to the grave by the praise of Camden, and many others. A sumptuous mo- nument was erected to his memory, in or near the choir of St. Paul's, which was long regarded with peculiar respect by those whom business or pleasure brought to the metropolis. To this Jonson alludes in Every Man out of his Humour, " When shall I put off to the Lord Chancellor's tomb," &c. There were those, however, who regarded this stately pile with less complacency. Either from its unusual, bulk, or more tol. vi. I i 482 THE SATYR. Grace, to build their fortunes on, Else our soles would sure have gone," All by this time to our feet. I not deny where graces meet In a man, that quality Is a graceful property : But when dancing is his best, Beshrew me, I suspect the rest. But I am Nobody, and my breath, Soon as it is born, hath death. Come on, clowns, forsake your dumps, And bestir your hob-nail'd stumps, Do your worst, I'll undertake, Not a jerk you have shall make Any lady here in love. Perhaps your fool, or so, may move Some lady's woman with a trick, And upon it she may pick probably, from its projection into the walk of the south aisle, it is very spleneticly mentioned on many occasions. On a pillar near it hung two humble tablets to the memories of sir P. Sidney and sir F. Walsingham ; this gave birth to the pleasing couplet: " Philip and Francis have no tombe, Great Christopher takes all the roome." Its size too is noticed by Bishop Corbet ; " Nor need the Chancellor boast, whose pyramis Above the Host and Altar raised is." It is singular that sir Christopher's heirs should have found money enough for this costly monument ; since it appears that he had so embarrassed his circumstances by erecting the noble structure of Holmeby, that he fell in arrears with the queen, whose ceaseless importunity for payment, (for Elizabeth never gave nor took credit,) is said to have depressed his spirits and hastened his death. * Else our soles, &c] The 4to reads soules, the folio soles ; an equivoque was probably designed ; and, what cannot be said f all equivoques, the sense is good either way. THE SATYR. 483 A pair of revelling legs, or two, Out of you, with much ado. But see, the hobby-horse is forgot. Fool, it must be your lot, To supply his want with faces, And some other buffoon graces, You know how : piper, play, And let Nobody hence away. [Here the morris-dancers entered. There was also another parting speech, which was to have been presented in the person of a youth, and accompanied with divers gentlemen's younger sons of' the country : but by reason of the multitudinous press, was also hindered. And which we have here adjoined. And will you then, mirror of queens, depart? Shall nothing stay you ? not my master's heart, That pants to lose the comfort of your light, And see his day, ere it be old, grow night? You are a goddess, and your will be done : Yet this our last hope is, that as the sun Cheers objects far removed, as well as near; So, wheresoe'er you shine, you'll sparkle here. And you, dear lord, on whom my covetous eye Doth feed itself, but cannot satisfy, O shoot up fast in spirit, as in years ; That when upon her head proud Europe wears Her stateliest tire, you may appear thereon The richest gem, without a paragon. Shine bright and fixed as the arctic star : And when slow time hath made you fit for war, Look over the strict ocean, and think where You may but lead us forth, that grow up here IiS 484 THE SATYR. Against a clay, when our officious swords Shall speak our actions, better than our words. Till then, all good event conspire to crown Your parents hopes, our zeal, and your renown. Peace usher now your steps, and where you come, Be Envy still struck blind, and Flattery dumb. " Thus much," the 4to. adds, " which was the least of the entertainment in respect of the reality, abundance, delicacy, and order of all things else, to do that serviceable right to his noble friend, which his affection owes, and his lordship's merit may challenge, the author hath suffered to come out, and en- counter censure; and not here unnecessarily adjoined, being performed to the same queen and prince, who were no little part of these more laboured and triumphal shews. And to whose greatest part, he knows, the honourable lord, had he been so blest as to hare seen him at his lodge, would have stretcht in observance, though he could not in love and zeal." It would be unjust to the author to conclude without noticing the merits of this singularly elegant and poetic address. That it was not prophetic, Jonson lived to see, and perhaps to de- plore ; for prince Henry was a youth of great promise. THE PENATES. Thi Penates. J Sir William Cornwallis, at whose house this exquisite little drama (which I hare called the Penates) was presented, was the elder brother of sir Charles Cornwallis, who, on the establishment of prince Henry's household, was ap- pointed his treasurer, and son of sir Thomas Cornwallis, of Brome Hall, in Suffolk. He accompanied the earl of Essex in his expedition against the rebels in Ireland, in 1599, and was knighted, the same year, at Dublin. The title in the folio is as follow s : " A Private Entertainment of the King and Queen, on May Day in the morning, at Sir William Cornwallis's House, at Highgate, 1604." THE PENATES. The King and Queen being entered in at the gate, the Penates, or household gods, received them, attired after the antique manner, with javelins in their hands, standing on each side of the porch. 1 Pen. Leap, light hearts, in ev'ry breast, Joy is now the fittest passion ; Double majesty hath blest All the place, with that high grace Exceedeth admiration ! 2 Pen. Welcome, monarch of this isle, Europe's envy, and her mirror ; Great in each part of thy style ; England's wish, and Scotland's bliss, Both France and Ireland's terror. 1 Pen. Welcome are you ; and no less, Your admired queen : the glory Both of state, and comeliness. Every line of her divine Form, is a beauteous story. 2 Pen, High in fortune, as in blood, bo are both ; and blood renowned By oft falls, that make a flood In your veins : yet all these strains Are in your virtues drowned. 488 THE PENATES. 1 Pen. House, be proud : for of earth's store These two only are the wonder : In them she's rich, and is no more. ,Zeal is bound their praise to sound As loud as fame, or thunder. 2 Pen. Note, but how the air, the spring Concur in their devotions ; Pairs of turtles sit and sing On each tree, o'er-joy'd to see In them like love, like motions. 1 Pen. Enter, sir, this longing door, Whose glad lord nought could have blessed Equally : I'm sure not more, Than this sight : save of your right, When you were first possessed. 2 Pen. That, indeed, transcended this. Since which hour, wherein you gain'd it, For this grace, both he and his. Every day, have learn 'd to pray, And now they have obtain'd it. Here the Penates lead them in, thorough the house, into the garden, where Mercury received them, walking before them. Mer. Retire, you household-gods, and leave these excellent creatures to be entertained by a more eminent deity. [Exeunt Pen.] Hail, king and queen of the Islands, called truly Fortunate, and by you made so. To tell you who I am, and wear all these notable and speaking ensigns about me, were to challenge you of most impos- THE PENATES. 489 sible ignorance, and accuse myself of as palpable glory : it is enough that you know me here, and come with the license of my father Jove, who is the bounty of heaven, to give you early welcome to the bower of my mother Maia, no less the goodness of earth. And may it please you to walk, I will tell you no wonderful story. This place, whereon you are now advanced (by the mighty power of poetry, and the help of a faith that can remove mountains) is the Arcadian hill Cyllene, the place where myself was both begot and born : and of which I am frequently called Cyllenius : Under yond' purslane tree stood sometime my cradle. Where now behold my mother Maia, sitting in the pride of their plenty, gladding the air with her breath, and cheering the spring with her smiles. At her feet, the blushing Aurora, who, with her rosy hand, cast- eth her honey-dews on those sweeter herbs, accompanied with that gentle wind Favonius, whose subtile spirit, in the breathing forth, Flora makes into flowers, and sticks them in the grass, as if she contended to have the embroidery or the earth richer than the cope of the sky. Here, for her month, the yearly delicate May keeps state ; and from this mount takes pleasure to display these valleys, yond' lesser hills, those statelier edifices and towers, that seem enamoured so far off, and are rear'd on end to behold her, as if their utmost object were her beauties. Hi- ther the Dryads of the valley, and nymphs of the great river come every morning to taste of her favours ; and depart away with laps filled with her bounties. But, see ! upon your approach, their pleasures are instantly remitted. The birds are hush'd, Zephyr is still, the morn forbears her office, Flora is dumb, and herself amazed, to 490 THE PENATES. behold two such marvels, that do more adorn place than she can time : pardon, your majesty, the fault, for it is that hath caused it; and till they can collect their spirits, think silence and wonder the best adoration. Here Aurora, Zephyrus, and Flora, began this Song in three parts. See, see, O see who here is come a maying ! The master of the ocean ; And his beauteous Orian : Why left we our playing ? To gaze, to gaze, On them, that gods no less than men amaze. Up, nightingale, and sing J"g, jug J"g J u g Ac- Raise, lark, thy note, and wing, All birds their music bring, Sweet robin, linet, thrush, Record from every bush The welcome oj the king ; And queen : Whose like xcere never seen, For good, for fair ; Nor can be ; though fresh May, Should every day Invite a several pair, No, though she should invite a several pair. Which ended, Maia (seated, in her bower, with all those personages about her, as before described) began to raise herself, and, then declining, spake* Mai. If all the pleasures were distill'd Of every flower in every field, THE PENATES. 491 And all that Hybla's hives do yield, Were into one broad mazer fill'd ; If, thereto, added all the gums, And spice that from Panchaia comes, The odour that Hydaspes lends, Or Phoenix proves before she ends; If all the air my Flora drew, Or spirit that Zephyre ever blew ; ' Were put therein ; and all the clew That ever rosy morning knew ; Yet all diffused upon this bower, To make one sweet detaining hour, Were much too little for the grace, And honour, you vouchsafe the place. But if you please to come again, We vow, we will not then, with vain, And empty pastimes entertain Your so desired, tho' grieved pain. 1 Or spirit that Zephyre ever blew.] i. e. breath. It may not be amiss to notice here, once for all, that our old poets, with few exceptions, pronounced this word, as if it were written sprite. It rarely occurs as a dissyllable in the writers of Jonson's age. There is scarcely to be found, in the compass of English verse, a piece of equal brevity, that for richness, melody, elegance, and taste can be at all compared with this gay lyrical effusion. How long will the readers of our old poets suffer themselves to be misled by wanton malevolence, and believe, on the faith of Steevens, Malone, &c. with the stupid herd that nuzzle in obloquy after them, that this great poet had neither harmony nor grace ; and that his writings exhibit little besides " scraps of murdered ancients" and " clumsy sarcasms on Shakspeare It* It is to the credit of Milton's taste, that he has borrowed largely from this Entertainment ; his obligations to Jonson are indeed incessant ; and his editors might be more judiciously employed in pointing some of them out, than in running, upon every occasion, to the Italian writers, of whom he probably knew nothing, at the time he is suspected of copying them from line to line and from word to word. 492 THE PENATES. For we M'i 11 have the wanton fawns, That frisking skip about the lawns, The Panisks, and the Sylvans rude, Satyrs, and all that multitude, To dance their wilder rounds about, And cleave the air, with many a shout; As they would hunt poor Echo out Of yonder valley, who doth flout Their rustic noise. To visit whom You shall behold whole bevies come Of gaudy nymphs, whose tender calls Well-tuned unto the many falls Of sweet, and several sliding rills, That stream from tops of those less hills, Sound like so many silver quills, When Zephyre them with music fills. For these, Favonius here shall blow New flowers, which you shall see to grow, Of which each hand a part shall take, And, for your heads, fresh garlands make. Wherewith, whilst they your temples round, An air of several birds shall sound An Io Pasan, that shall drown The acclamations, at your crown. All this, and more than I have gift of saying, May vows, so you will oft come here a maying, *Mer. And Mercury, her son, shall venture the displeasure of his father, with the whole bench of heaven, that day, but he will do his mother's intents all serviceable assistance. Till then, and ever, live high and happy, you, and your other you ; both envied for your fortunes, loved for your graces, and admired for your virtues. [This was the morning's entertainment. THE PENATES. 493 After dinner, the king and queen coming again into the garden, Mercury the second time accosted them* Mer. Again, great pair, I salute you; and with leave of all the gods, whose high pleasure it is, that Mercury make this your holiday. May all the blessings, both of earth and heaven, concur to thank you : for till this day's sun, I have faintly enjoyed a minute's rest to my creation. Now I do, and acknowledge it your sole, and no less thau divine benefit. If my desire to delight you might not divert to your trouble, I would intreat your eyes to a new and strange spectacle ; a certain son of mine, whom the Arcadians call a god, howsoever the rest of the world receive him : it is the horned Pan, whom in the trans- lated figure of a goat I begot on the fair Spartan Penelope ; May, let both your ears and looks forgive it; these are but the lightest escapes of us deities. And it is better in me to prevent his rustic impudence, by my blushing acknowledg- ment, than anon by his rude, and not insolent claim, be inforced to confess him. Yonder he keeps, and with him the wood nymphs, whose leader he is in rounds and dances, to this sylvan music. The place, about which they skip, is the fount of laughter, or Bacchus' spring ; whose statue is advanced on the top ; and from whose pipes, at an observed hour of the day, there flows a lusty liquor, that hath a present virtue to expel sadness ; and within certain minutes after it is tasted, force all the mirth of the spleen into the face. Of this is Pan the guardian. Lo ! the fountain begins to run, but the nymphs at your sight are fled, Pan and his satyrs wildly 494 THE PENATES. tand at gaze. I will approach, and question him : vouchsafe your ear, and forgive his behaviour, which even to me, that am his parent, will no doubt be rude enough, though otherwise full of salt, which except my presence did temper, might turn to be gall and bitterness ; but that shall charm him. Pan. O, it is Mercury! hollow them, agen. What be all these, father, gods, or men ? Mer. All human. Only these two are deities on earth, but such, as the greatest powers of heaven may resign to. Pan. Why did our nymphs run away, can you tell? Here be sweet beauties love Mercury well ; I see by their looks. How say you, great master: 2 [Advances to the king. Will you please to hear? shall I be your taster? Mer. Pan, you are too rude. Pan. It is but a glass, By my beard, and my horns, 'tis a health, and shall pass. * How say you, great master ?] This part of the Entertain- ment was after dinner, when more freedom was allowed. We should also recollect that it was presented on May day, a great holiday in the city, and admitting, from time immemorial, of great familiarity among all ranks. It appears that a fountain in the garden, which wag decorated and laid out for the occasion, flowed with wine ; from this Pan filled his glasses, and carried them round to the company. James was accompanied by the lords and ladies of his court ; others were probably introduced by Sir William : but whoever they might be, they were known to Jonson, (who was always pre- sent on these occasions,) and much merriment was unquestion- ably excited by the characteristic traits with which Pan pre- faced the tender of the wine to every guest. The king is very strongly marked : in the address to the queen, there is an al- lusion to her Danish extraction. The humour of the rest is lost to us, as we cannot appropriate the circumstances. THE PENATES. 495 Were he a king, and his mistress a queen, This draught shall make him a petulant spleen. But trow, is he loose, or costive of laughter ? I'd know, to fill him his glass, thereafter. Sure either my skill, or my sight doth mock, Or this lording's look should not care for the smock ; And yet he should love both a horse and a hound, And not rest till he saw his game on the ground : Well, look to him, dame ; beshrew me, were I 'Mongst these bonnibells, you should need a good eye. Here, mistress ; all out. Since a god is your skinker : By my hand, I believe you were born a good drinker. They are things of no spirit, their blood is asleep, That, when it is ofter'd them, do not drink deep. Come, who is next? our liquor here cools. Ladies, I'm sure, you all have not fools At home to laugh at. A little of this, Ta'en down here in private, were not amiss. Believe it, she drinks like a wench that had store Of lord for her laughter, then will you havemore? What answer you, lordings? will you any or none ? Laugh, and be fat, sir, your penance is known. They that love mirth, let them heartily drink, 'Tis the only receipt to make sorrow sink. The young nymph that's troubled with an old man, Let her laugh him away, as fast as she can. Nay drink, and not pause, as who would say, Must you ? But laugh at the wench, that next doth trust you. 496 THE PENATES. To you, sweet beauty ; nay, 'pray you come hither Ere you sit out, you'll laugh at a feather. I'll never fear you, for being too witty, You sip so like a forsooth of the city.' Lords, for yourselves, your own cups crown, The ladies, i'faith, else will laugh you down. Go to, little blushet, for this, anan, You'll steal forth a laugh in the shade of your fan. This, and another thing, I can tell ye, Will breed a laughter as low as your belly. Of such sullen pieces, Jove send us not many, They must be tickled, before they will any. What ! have we done ? they that want let 'em call, Gallants, of both sides, you see here is all Pan's entertainment : look for no more ; Only, good faces, I read you, make store Of your amorous knights, and 'squires hereafter, They are excellent sponges, to drink up your laughter. Farewell, I must seek out my nymphs, that you frighted ; Thank Hermes, my father, if aught have de- lighted. [Exit. Mer. I am sure, thy last rudeness cannot ; for it makes me seriously ashamed. I will not labour his excuse, since I know you more ready to pardon, than he to trespass : but for your sin- gular patience, tender you all abundance of thanks; and, mixing with the master of the * a forsooth of the city.'] By this petty oath, which was pro- bably familiar to the merchants' and tradesmen's wires, the city ladies are characterised in many of our old dramas. THE PENATES. 4 q 7 place in his wishes, make them my divinations: That your loves be ever flourishing as May, and your house as fruitful: that your acts exceed the best, and your years the longest of your predecessors; that no bad fortune touch you nor good change you. But still, that you triumph in this facility over the ridiculous pride of other princes ; and for ever live safe in the love, rather than the fear, of your subjects. AND THUS IT ENDED. vol. vi. K k THE ENTERTAINMENT OF THE TWO KINGS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND DENMARK, AT THEOBALDS, JULY <24, 1606. Kk2 The Entertainment, &c] m The king of Denmark (Christian IV.) armed in England on a visit to his sister, Queen Anne, on Thursday the 17th of July ; and on the Thurs- day following, the 24th, the royal brothers rode together to Theobalds, in Hertfordshire, where the earle of Salisbury, for four days together, feasted them and all their traine according to their estates and dignities, shewing them many signs of love, duty, and heartie welcome." Stowe. This visit was a political misfortune. The arrival of his Danish majesty was the signal for . u heavy-headed revel east and west." The Danes brought with them their habitual propensity to drinking, and James and his courtiers complimented the strangers, by partaking of their debaucheries. In allusion to the Entertainment before us, Sir John Har- rington says, (Nvgee Ant. vol. i. p. 348.) '' The lord of the mansion is overwhelmed in preparations at Theobalds, and doth marvellously please both kings with good meat, good drink, and good speeches." THE ENTERTAINMENT, fcc. The Kings being entered the Inner Court ; above, over the porch, sat the three Hours, upon clouds, as at the ports of heaven ; crowned with several flowers : of which one bore a sun-dial; the other, a clock ; the third, an hour-glass ; signifying as by their names, Law, Justice, and Peace : and for those faculties chosen to gratulatt their coming with this speech. Enter, () long'd-for princes,* bless these bowers, And us, the three, by you made happy, Hours:' We that include all time, yet never knew Minute like this, or object like to you. Two kings, the world's prime honours, whose access Shews cither's greatness, yet makes neither less: Vouchsafe your thousand welcomes in this shewer; The master vows, not Sybil's leaves were truer. 1 Enter, long' d for princes^ This alludes to the anxiety with which Christian had been expected, and which is noticed by Stow and others ; though Camden, I know not on what authority, says that the king came unexpectedly. * And us, the three, by you made happy. Hours :] The Greek names of the Hvurs* were Funomie, Dice, and Jrrne,| the En- glish of which the poet gave us above. They are said (byHesiod) to be the daughters of Jupiter and Themis : their station was at the gates of heaven : ind therefore our author, consonant to poetic story, hath placed them over the porch of the house. Whai. 502 ENTERTAINMENT Expressed to the king of Denmark, thus : Qui collt has adds, ingentia gaudia adumbrans, Cernendo reges pace coire pares, Nos tempeslivas, ad limina, collocat Horas, Qudd bona sub nobis omnia proveniant. Unum ad hetitiai cumulum tristatur abesse, Qudd nequeat signis Lcetitiam exprimere. Sed quia res solum ingentes hac parte laborant, Ut cur, que expressam credidit esse satis. At, quod non potuit dominus, supplevit abundh Frondoso tellus munere facta loquax. Eccos quam grati veniant quos terra salutat t Verior his folds nulla Sybillafuit. The inscriptions on the walls were, DATE VENIAM SUBITIS. DEBENTUE QViE SUNT, QU^QUE FUTURA. Epigrams hung up. Ad Reges Serenissimos. '& Satpe Theobaldas (sortis bonitate beatat) Excepere suos sub pia tecta dens ; Haud simul at geminos : sed eniiu potuisse negabant , Nee fas est tales potse putare duos. Forlunata autehac, sed nunc domus undiqne fcelix, At dominus quanto (si licet unjue) magis ! Et licet % 6 Magni^Joliis sifditis i.stis, Queis Hora summam contribuere Jidem. AT THEOBALDS. 503 Ad Serenissimum Jacobum. Miraris, cur hospitio te accepimus Hora, Cujus ad obsequium non satis annus erat f Nempe quod adveniant ingentia gaudia rard, Et quando adveniant vix datur horafrui. Ad Serenissimum Christianum. Miraris, cur hospitio te accepimus Horce, Quas Solisfamulas Grcecia docta vocat ? Talis ab adventu vestro lux fulsit in cedeis, Ut dominus solem crederet esse novum. Others, at their departure. Ad Serenissimum Jacobum. Hospitio qui te cepit, famulantibus Horis, Cedere abhinc, nulla concomitant e, sinit ; Nempe omneis horas veniendi duxit arnicas, Sed discedendi nulla minuta probata Ad Serenissimum Christianum. Te veniente, novo domus hate frondebat amictu ; Te discessuro, non prout ante viret : Nempe, sub accessu solis, novus incipit annus, Et, sub disccssu squalida scevit hyems. * These epigrams, which have the, wit without the point of Martial, and which approach to the manner of the Greek anthologies, are very creditable to the talents and learning of our author. He was indeed the best latin poet we then possessed, and few of his contemporaries, on the continent, wrote latin verse with more taste or elegance. Of Owen'i epigrams, which were little bettr than strings of puns, Jonson always spoke with contempt. AN ENTERTAINMENT OF KING JAMES AND QUEEN ANNE, AT THEOBALDS, When the House was delivered up, with the possession, to the Queen, by the Earl of Salisbury, the 22d of May, 1607. The Prince Jan vile, Brother to the Duke of Guise, being then present. Entertainment at Theobalds.] Norden, in his Survey of Hartfordshire, speaks of u Thebauldes as a most stately house erected from the first foundation, by the lit. Hon. yr Will: Cecyl, Kt. Lord Theasorer of England. To speake of the state and beauty thereof at large, as it deserveth, for curious build- ings, delightful walkes, and pleasant conceits within and with, out, and other things very glorious and ellegant to be seene, would challenge a greate portion of this little treatise ; and therefore leaste I should come short of that due commendation that it deserveth, I leave it, as indeed it is, a princely seate." James appears to have been sensible of its beauties, and to have lost little time in becoming master of the residence. In 1607, (the year after the king of Denmark was " Entertained" there,) he exchanged the manor of Hatfield for Theobalds, when Ben's poetical talents were again exerted. As Salisbury was a wary man, it is probable he was no loser by the bargain.' The court in which Jonson's verses were u sung or said" is de- scribed in a survey made in 1650, preserved in the Augmen- tation Office, " as a quadrangle of 110 feet square, on the south of which were the queen's chapel, (with windows of stained glass,) her presence chamber, privy chamber, bed chamber, and coffee chamber. The princes' lodgings were on the north side ; on the east side was a cloister, over which was the green gal- lery 109 feet by 12, excellently well painted round with the several shires in England, and the armes of the Noblemen and gentlemen in the same. Over this gallery was a leaded walk, (looking eastward towards the dial-court and the highway,) on which were two lofty arches of bricke of no small ornament to the house, and rendering it comely and pleasant to all that passed by." The greater part of this mansion was destroyed by order of the parliament the year after this survey was made, (1651,) and every vestige was removed in 1765. The prince Joinville was Charles de Lorraine; eldest son of Henry de Lorraine, first duke of the branch of Guise and Chevreuse, surnamed bald-pate ; he was born the 20th of August, 1571. He was arrested with many others on the day of the execution of Blois, and confined in the castle of Tours, whence he escaped in 1591. He was received at Paris with loud acclamations of joy by the populace, who, it is said by L'Advocat, would have elected him king, but for the jealousy ol the duke de Mayence, his uncle. It was this prince who slew with his own hand the brave St. Pol. He submitted to Henry IV. in 1594, and obtained the government oi Provence; afterwards he was employed by Louis XIII, but the Cardinal de Richelieu, fearing the power of the house of Guise, obliged him to quit France. Charles retired into Provence, and died at Cuna in the Siennois, 30th of September, 1640, leaving a numerous family by his wife, Henrietta Catherine de Joyeusc. Gilchrist. AN ENTERTAINMENT, &c. The King and Queen, with the princes of IVales and Lorrain, and the nobility, being entered into the gdllery, after dinner there was seen nothing but a traverse of white across the room : which sud- denly drawn, was discovered a gloomy obscure place hung all with black silks, and in it only one Uo-ht which the Genius of the house held, sadly attired'- his Cornucopia; ready to fall out of his hand, his gyrland drooping on his head, his eyes Jived on the ground ; when, out of this pensive posture, after some little pause, he brake and began, GENIUS. Let not your glories darken, to behold The place, and me, her Genius here, so sad; Who, by bold rumour, have been lately told,' That I must change the loved lord I had/ And he, now, in the twilight of sere age, 1 ' Begin to seek a habitation new; And all his fortunes, and himself engage Unto a seat, his fathers never knew. And I, uncertain what I must endure, Since all the enc!s of destiny are obscure. And he, now,in the twilight, &c] The earl of Salisbury was now in his forty-fourth year ; somewhat early for the tzuilkht of sere age : but his constitution was broken by labour, and he died of a complication of disorders about five years after this period. 510 ENTERTAINMENT MERCURY. [From behind the darkness.'] Despair not, Genius, thou shalt know thy fate. And withal, the black vanishing, was discovered a glorious place, figuring the Lararium, or seat of the household gods, where both the Lares and Pe- nates were painted in copper colour ; erected with columns and architrave, frieze and cornice, in which were placed divers diaphanal glasses, filled with several waters, that shewed like so many stones of orient and transparent hues. Within, as farther off, in landscape, were seen clouds riding, and in one corner, a boy figuring Good Event attired in white, hovering in the air, with wings displayed, having nothing seen to sustain him by, all the time the shew lasted. At the other corner, a Mercury descended in a flying posture, with his caduceus in his hand, who spake to the three Parcce, that sate low in a grate, with an iron roof, the one holding the rock, the other the spindle, and the third the sheers, with a book of adamant lying open before them. But first the Genius, surprized by wonder, urged this doubt, GENIUS. [Aside.-] What sight is this, so strange, and full of state ! The son of Maia, making his descent Unto the fates, and met with Good Event? MERCURY. Daughters of Night and Secrecy, attend ; You that draw out the chain of destiny, Upon whose threads, both lives and times depend, And all the periods of mortality ; AT THEOBALDS. 511 The will of Jove is, that you straight do look The change, and fate unto this house decreed, And speaking from your adamantine hook, Unto the Genius of the place it read ; That he may know, and knowing hi ess his lot, That such a grace heyond his hopes hath got. CLOT HO. [reads.] When underneath thy roof is seen The greatest king, the fairest queen, With princes an unmatched pair, One, hope of all the earth, their heir ; The other styled of Lor rain, Their blood; and sprung from Charlemainc : When all these glories jointly shine, And fill thee with a heat divine, And these reflected, do beget A splendent sun, shall never set, But here shine fixed, to affright All after -hopes of following night, Then, Genius, is thy period come, To change thy lord : thus fates do doom. GENIUS. But is my patron with this lot content, So to forsake his father's monument ? Or is it gain, or else necessity, Or will to raise a house of better frame, That makes him shut forth his posterity Out of his patrimony, with his name ? MERCURY. Nor gain, nor need ; much less a vain desire, To frame new roofs, or build his dwelling higher ; He hath, with mortar, busied been too much, That his affections should continue such. 512 ENTERTAINMENT GENIUS. Do men take joy in labours, not t'enjoy ? Or doth their businessall their likings spend? Have they more pleasure in a tedious way, Than to repose them at their journey's end? MERCURY. Genius, obey, and not expostulate; It is your virtue: and such Powers as you, Should make religion of offending fate, Whose dooms are just, and whose designs are true. LACHESIS. The person for whose royal sake, Thou must a change so happy make, Is he, that governs with his smile This lesser world, this greatest isle. His lady's servant thou must be ; Whose second would great nature see, Or Fortune, after all their pain, They might despair to make again. ATROPOS. She is the grace of all that are : And as Eliza, now a star, Unto her crown, and lasting praise, Thy humbler walls, at first, did raise, By virtue of her best aspect; So shall Bel-Anna them protect : And this is all the Fates can say; Which first believe, and then obey. GENIUS. Mourn'd I before ? could I commit a sin So much 'gainst kind, or knowledge, to protract A joy, to which I should have ravish 'd been, And never shall be happy, till I act? AT THEOBALDS. 513 Vouchsafe, fair queen, my patron's zeal in me; Who fly with fervor, as my fate commands, To yield these keys : and wish, that you could see My heart as open to you, as my hands. There might you read my faith, my thoughts But oh! to My joys, like waves, each other overcome ; And gladness drowns where it begins to flow* Some greater powers speak out, for mine are dumb. At this, was the place filled with rare and choice music, to which was heard the following Sons, de- livered by an excellent mice, and the burden main- tained by the whole quire, O blessed change / And no less glad than strange ! Where we that lose have won ; And, for a beam, enjoy a sun, Cho. So little sparks become great fires, And high rewards crown low desires. Was ever bliss More full, or clear, than this I The present month of May Ne'er loolCd so fresh, as doth this day. Cho. So gentle winds breed happy springs, And duty thrives by breath of kings. In that despicable tissue of filth and obscenity, of falsehood and malignity, by sir Antony Weldon, called the u Court of king James," and lately dragged from obscurity by the Scotch book- sellers, Cecil is said " to hare made so good an exchange (hat VOL. VI. LI 5U ENTERTAINMENT, &c. he sold his house for fifty years purchases, and that so cunningly, as hardly to be discerned but by a curious sight" which, of course, this wretched scribbler possessed. The fact is, that he got Hatfield chase in exchange, a manor of little value to the king, as it was then a mere waste or common. Cecil inclosed it to the ruin of liis popularity, but the ultimate advan- tage of the country, and raised upon it a structure which, says Camden, u for situation, contrivance, prospects, and other ne- cessaries fit for a complete seat, gives way to few in England." With respect to Theobalds, James seems to have had an early predilection for it. Here he resided some time before his coronation ; here, as we have seen, he entertained his royal guest, here he frequently retired from the cares of state, and here he closed his mortal career on the 27th March, 1625. The Editors of Weldon term this Entertainment one of the most ingenious of Jonson's Masques. It is certainly an inge- nious little piece ; but they cannot have gone far in our poet, who speak of it in such terms. END OF VOL. VI. lumdon : Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. 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