SCENE II.
A street in Antwerp.
Enter Bagot.
Bag.
So, all goes well; it is as I would have it.
Banister, he is with the governour,
And shortly shall have gyves upon his heels.
It glads my heart to think upon the slave;
I hope to have his body rot in prison,
And after hear his wife to hang herself,
And all his children die for want of food.
The jewels I have with me brought to Antwerp,
Are reckon'd to be worth five thousand pound;
Which scarcely stood me in three hundred pound.
I bought them at an easy kind of rate;
I care not much which way they came by them,
That sold them me; it comes not near my heart:
And lest they should be stolen, (as sure they are,)
I thought it meet to sell them here in Antwerp;
And so have left them in the governour's hand,
Who offers me within two hundred pound
Of all my price: but now no more of that.—
I must go see an if my bills be safe,
The which I sent before to master Cromwell;
That if the wind should keep me on the sea,
He might arrest him here before I came:
And in good time, see where he is.
Enter Cromwell.
God save you sir.
Crom.
And you.—Pray pardon me, I know you not.
Bag.
It may be so, sir; but my name is Bagot;
The man that sent to you the bills of debt.
Crom.
O, you're the man that pursues Banister.
Here are the bills of debt you sent to me;
As for the man, you know best where he is.
-- 389 --
It is reported you have a flinty heart,
A mind that will not stoop to any pity,
An eye that knows not how to shed a tear,
A hand that's always open for reward.
But, master Bagot, would you be rul'd by me,
You should turn all these to the contrary:
Your heart should still have feeling of remorse4 note,
Your mind, according to your state, be liberal
To those that stand in need and in distress;
Your hand to help them that do stand in want,
Rather than with your poise to hold them down5 note
:
For every ill turn show yourself more kind;
Thus should I do; pardon, I speak my mind.
Bag.
Ay, sir, you speak to hear what I would say;
But you must live, I know, as well as I.
I know this place to be extortion6 note
;
And 'tis not for a man to keep safe here,
But he must lye, cog with his dearest friend,
And as for pity, scorn it; hate all conscience:—
But yet I do commend your wit in this,
To make a show of what I hope you are not;
But I commend you, and it is well done:
This is the only way to bring your gain.
Crom.
My gain? I had rather chain me to an oar,
And, like a slave, there toil out all my life,
-- 390 --
Before I'd live so base a slave as thou.
I, like an hypocrite, to make a show
Of seeming virtue, and a devil within!
No, Bagot; if thy conscience were as clear,
Poor Banister ne'er had been troubled here.
Bag.
Nay, good master Cromwell, be not angry, sir,
I know full well that you are no such man;
But if your conscience were as white as snow,
It will be thought that you are otherwise.
Crom.
Will it be thought that I am otherwise?
Let them that think so, know they are deceiv'd.
Shall Cromwell live to have his faith misconstru'd?
Antwerp, for all the wealth within thy town,
I will not stay here full two hours longer.—
As good luck serves, my accounts are all made even;
Therefore I'll straight unto the treasurer.
Bagot, I know you'll to the governour:
Commend me to him; say I am bound to travel,
To see the fruitful parts of Italy;
And as you ever bore a Christian mind,
Let Banister some favour of you find.
Bag.
For your sake, sir, I'll help him all I can—
To starve his heart out ere he gets a groat;
[Aside.
So, master Cromwell, do I take my leave,
For I must straight unto the governour.
Crom.
Farewel, sir; pray you remember what I said.
[Exit Bagot.
No, Cromwell, no; thy heart was ne'er so base,
To live by falshood, or by brokery.
But it falls out well; I little it repent;
Hereafter time in travel shall be spent.
Enter Hodge.
Hodge.
Your son Thomas, quoth you! I have
-- 391 --
been Thomass'd7 note. I had thought it had been no
such matter to ha' gone by water; for at Putney, I'll
go you to Parish-Garden8 note for two-pence; sit as still
as may be, without any wagging or jolting in my
guts, in a little boat too: here, we were scarce four
miles in the great green water, but I, thinking to go
to my afternoon's nuncheon, as 'twas my manner
at home, felt a kind of rising in my guts. At
last, one of the sailors spying of me—be of good
cheer, says he; set down thy victuals, and up with
it; thou hast nothing but an eel in thy belly. Well,
to't went I, to my victuals went the sailors; and
thinking me to be a man of better experience than
any in the ship, ask'd me what wood the ship was
made of: they all swore I told them as right as if I
had been acquainted with the carpenter that made it.
At last we grew near land, and I grew villainous
hungry, and went to my bag. The devil a bit there
was, the sailors had tickled me; yet I cannot blame
them: it was a part of kindness; for I in kindness
told them what wood the ship was made of, and
they in kindness eat up my victuals; as indeed one
good turn asketh another. Well, would I could
find my master Thomas in this Dutch town! he
might put some English beer into my belly.
Crom.
What, Hodge, my father's man! by my hand welcome.
How doth my father? what's the news at home?
Hodge.
Master Thomas, O God! Master Thomas,
your hand, glove and all: This is to give you to understanding,
-- 392 --
that your father is in health, and Alice
Downing here hath sent you a nutmeg, and Bess
Make-water a race of ginger9 note; my fellows Will and
Tom hath between them sent you a dozen of points1 note;
and goodman Toll, of the goat* note, a pair of mittens:
myself came in person; and this is all the news.
Crom.
Gramercy good Hodge, and thou art welcome to me,
But in as ill a time thou comest as may be;
For I am travelling into Italy.
What say'st thou, Hodge? wilt thou bear me company?
Hodge.
Will I bear thee company, Tom? what
tell'st me of Italy? Were it to the farthest part of
Flanders, I would go with thee, Tom: I am thine
in all weal and woe; thy own to command. What,
Tom! I have pass'd the rigorous waves of Neptune's
blasts. I tell you, Thomas, I have been in danger
of the floods; and when I have seen Boreas begin to
play the ruffian with us2 note
, then would I down a' my
knees, and call upon Vulcan.
Crom.
And why upon him?
Hodge.
Because, as this same fellow Neptune is
-- 393 --
god of the seas, so Vulcan is lord over the smiths;
and therefore I, being a smith, thought his godhead
would have some care yet of me.
Crom.
A good conceit: but tell me, hast thou din'd yet?
Hodge.
Thomas, to speak the truth, not a bit yet, I.
Crom.
Come, go with me, thou shalt have cheer, good store;
And farewel, Antwerp, if I come no more.
Hodge.
I follow thee, sweet Tom, I follow thee.
[Exeunt.
Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
