Officers.
Elb.
Come, bring them away; if these be good people
in a common-weal, that do nothing but use their
abuses in common houses, I know no law; bring them
away.
Ang.
How now, Sir, what's your name? and what's
the matter?
Elb.
If it please your Honour, I am the poor Duke's
constable, and my name is Elbow; I do lean upon justice,
Sir, and do bring in here before your good Honour
two notorious benefactors.
Ang.
Benefactors? well; what benefactors are they?
are they not malefactors?
-- 374 --
Elb.
If it please your Honour, I know not well what
they are; but precise villains they are, that I am sure
of; and void of all profanation in the world, that good
christians ought to have.
Escal.
This comes off well; here's a wise officer.
Ang.
Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is
your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow?
Clown.
He cannot, Sir; he's out at elbow.
Ang.
What are you, Sir?
Elb.
He, Sir? a tapster, Sir; parcel-bawd; one
that serves a bad woman; whose house, Sir, was, as
they say, pluckt down in the suburbs; and now she
professes a hot-house; which, I think, is a very ill
house too.
Escal.
How know you that?
Elb.
My wife, Sir, whom I detest before heav'n and
your Honour,—
Escal.
How! thy wife?
Elb.
Ay, Sir; whom, I thank heav'n, is an honest
woman;—
Escal.
Dost thou detest her therefore?
Elb.
I say, Sir, I will detest my self also, as well as
she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is
pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.
Escal.
How dost thou know that, constable?
Elb.
Marry, Sir, by my wife; who, if she had
been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused
in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanness
there.
Escal.
By the woman's means?
Elb.
Ay, Sir, by mistress Over-done's means, but
as she spit in his face, so she defy'd him.
Clown.
Sir, if it please your Honour, this is not so.
Elb.
Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable
man, prove it.
Escal.
Do you hear how he misplaces?
-- 375 --
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Sir, she came in great with child; and
longing (saving your Honour's reverence) for stew'd
prewns; Sir, we had but two in the house, which
at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a
fruit-dish, a dish of some three pence; (your Honours
have seen such dishes; they are not China
dishes, but very good dishes.)&wrquo;
Escal.
Go to, go to; no matter for the dish, Sir.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;No, indeed, Sir, not of a pin; you are
therein in the right: but to the point; as I say,
this mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and
being great belly'd, and longing, as I said, for
prewns; and having but two in the dish, as I said;
master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the
rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very
honestly; for, as you know, master Froth, I could
not give you three pence again.&wrquo;
Froth.
No, indeed.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Very well; you being then, if you be
remembred, cracking the stones of the foresaid
prewns.&wrquo;
Froth.
Ay, so I did, indeed.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Why, very well; I telling you then, if
you be remembred, that such a one, and such a
one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless
they kept very good diet, as I told you.&wrquo;
Froth.
All this is true.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Why, very well then.&wrquo;
Escal.
Come, you are a tedious fool; to the purpose:
what was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath
cause to complain of? come to what was done to her.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Sir, your Honour cannot come to that yet.&wrquo;
Escal.
No, Sir, nor I mean it not.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Sir, but you shall come to it, by your
Honour's leave: and, I beseech you, look into
master Froth here, Sir, a man of fourscore pound
-- 376 --
a year; whose father dy'd at Hallowmas. Was't
not at Hallowmas, master Froth?&wrquo;
Froth.
All-holland eve.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Why, very well; I hope here be truths.
He, Sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, Sir;
'twas in the bunch of grapes, where, indeed, you
have a delight to sit, have you not?&wrquo;
Froth.
I have so, because it is an open room, and
good for winter.
&wlquo;Clown.
&wlquo;Why, very well then; I hope here be
truths.&wrquo;
Ang.
This will last out a night in Russia,
When nights are longest there. I'll take my leave,
And leave you to the hearing of the cause;
Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip them all.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].