SCENE I.
London.
A room in Flowerdale Junior's house.
Enter Flowerdale Senior, and Flowerdale Junior.
Flow. Sen.
Brother, from Venice, being thus disguis'd,
I come, to prove the humours of my son.
How hath he borne himself since my departure,
I leaving you his patron and his guide?
Flow. Jun.
I'faith, brother, so, as you will grieve to hear,
And I almost ashamed to report it.
Flow. Sen.
Why how is't, brother? What, doth
he spend beyond the allowance I left him?
Flow. Jun.
How! beyond that? and far more.
-- 450 --
Why, your exhibition2 note
is nothing. He hath spent
that, and since hath borrow'd: protested with oaths,
alledged kindred, to wring money from me,—by
the love I bore his father,—by the fortunes might fall
upon himself,—to furnish his wants: that done, I
have had since, his bond, his friend and friend's
bond. Although I know that he spends is yours3 note,
yet it grieves me to see the unbridled wildness that
reigns over him.
Flow. Sen.
Brother, what is the manner of his life?
how is the name of his offences? If they do not relish
altogether of damnation4 note
, his youth may privilege
his wantonness. I myself ran an unbridled course
till thirty, nay, almost till forty:—well, you see
how I am. For vice once look'd into with the eyes
of discretion, and well balanced with the weights of
reason, the course past seems so abominable, that the
landlord of himself, which is the heart of his body,
will rather entomb himself in the earth, or seek a
new tenant to remain in him; which once settled,
how much better are they that in their youth have
known all these vices, and left them, than those that
knew little, and in their age run into them? Believe
me, brother, they that die most virtuous, have in
their youth liv'd most vicious; and none knows the
danger of the fire more than he that falls into it.—
-- 451 --
But say, how is the course of his life? let's hear his
particulars.
Flow. Jun.
Why I'll tell you, brother; he is a
continual swearer, and a breaker of his oaths; which
is bad.
Flow. Sen.
I grant indeed to swear is bad, but not
in keeping those oaths is better5 note; for who will set by
a bad thing? Nay by my faith, I hold this rather a
virtue than a vice. Well, I pray proceed.
Flow. Jun.
He is a mighty brawler, and comes
commonly by the worst.
Flow. Sen.
By my faith this is none of the worst
neither; for if he brawl and be beaten for it, it will
in time make him shun it; for what brings man or
child more to virtue than correction?—What reigns
over him else?
Flow. Jun.
He is a great drinker, and one that
will forget himself.
Flow. Sen.
O best of all! vice should be forgotten:
let him drink on, so he drink not churches. Nay,
an this be the worst, I hold it rather a happiness in
him, than any iniquity. Hath he any more attendants?
Flow. Jun.
Brother, he is one that will borrow of
any man.
Flow. Sen.
Why you see, so doth the sea; it borrows
of all the small currents in the world to increase
himself.
Flow. Jun.
Ay, but the sea pays it again, and so
will never your son.
Flow. Sen.
No more would the sea neither, if it
were as dry as my son.
-- 452 --
Flow. Jun.
Then, brother, I see you rather like
these vices in your son, than any way condemn
them.
Flow. Sen.
Nay mistake me not, brother; for
though I slur them over now, as things slight and
nothing, his crimes being in the bud, it would gall
my heart, they should ever reign in him.
M. Flow. [within]
Ho! who's within ho?
[M. Flowerdale knocks within.
Flow. Jun.
That's your son; he is come to borrow
more money.
Flow. Sen.
For God's sake give it out I am dead;
see how he'll take it. Say I have brought you news
from his father. I have here drawn a formal Will,
as it were from myself, which I'll deliver him.
Flow. Jun.
Go to, brother, no more: I will.
M. Flow.
Uncle, where are you, uncle?
[Within.
Flow. Jun.
Let my cousin in there.
Flow, Sen.
I am a sailor come from Venice, and
my name is Christopher.
Enter M. Flowerdale.
M. Flow.
By the lord, in truth, uncle—
Flow. Jun.
In truth would have serv'd, cousin,
without the lord.
M. Flow.
By your leave, uncle, the Lord is the
Lord of truth. A couple of rascals at the gate set
upon me for my purse.
Flow. Jun.
You never come, but you bring a brawl
in your mouth.
M. Flow.
By my truth, uncle, you must needs lend
me ten pound.
Flow. Jun.
Give my cousin some small beer here.
M. Flow.
Nay look you, you turn it to a jest now.
By this light, I should ride to Croydon Fair, to meet
sir Lancelot Spurcock; I should have his daughter
Luce: and for scurvy ten pound, a man shall lose
-- 453 --
nine hundred threescore and odd pounds, and a daily
friend beside! By this hand, uncle, 'tis true.
Flow. Jun.
Why, any thing is true for aught I
know.
M. Flow.
To see now!—why you shall have my
bond, uncle, or Tom White's, James Brock's, or Nick
Hall's6 note; as good rapier-and-dagger-men, as any be
in England; let's be damn'd if we do not pay you:
the worst of us all will not damn ourselves for ten
pound. A pox of ten pound.
Flow. Jun.
Cousin, this is not the first time I have
believ'd you.
M. Flow.
Why trust me now, you know not what
may fall. If one thing were but true, I would not
greatly care; I should not need ten pound;—but
when a man cannot be believ'd, there's it.
Flow. Jun.
Why what is it, cousin?
M. Flow.
Marry this, uncle. Can you tell me if
the Catharine and Hugh be come home or no7 note
?
Flow. Jun.
Ay marry is't.
M. Flow.
By God I thank you for that news. What
is't in the Pool can you tell?
Flow. Jun.
It is; what of that?
M. Flow.
What? why then I have six pieces of
velvet sent me; I'll give you a piece, uncle: for
thus said the letter;—A piece of ash-colour, a three-pil'd
-- 454 --
black, a colour de roy8 note, a crimson, a sad green9 note,
and a purple: yes i'faith.
Flow. Jun.
From whom should you receive this?
M. Flow.
From whom? why from my father;
with commendations to you, uncle; and thus he
writes. I know, (saith he,) thou hast much troubled
thy kind uncle, whom, God willing, at my return I
will see amply satisfied; amply, I remember was the
very word: so God help me.
Flow. Jun.
Have you the letter here?
M. Flow.
Yes, I have the letter here, here is the
letter: no,—yes—no;—let me see; what breeches
wore I o' Saturday? Let me see: o' Tuesday, my
calamanco; o' Wednesday, my peach-colour sattin;
o' Thursday my velure1 note; o' Friday my calamanco
again; o' Saturday,—let me see,—o' Saturday,—for in
those breeches I wore o' Saturday is the letter—O,
my riding breeches, uncle, those that you thought
had been velvet; in those very breeches is the
letter.
Flow. Jun.
When should it be dated?
M. Flow.
Marry, decimo tertio Septembris—no,
no; decimo tertio Octobris2 note
; ay, Octobris, so it is.
-- 455 --
Flow. Jun.
Decimo tertio Octobris! and here receive
I a letter that your father died in June. How
say you, Kester3 note?
Flow. Sen.
Yes truly, sir, your father is dead;
these hands of mine holp to wind him.
M. Flow.
Dead?
Flow. Sen.
Ay, sir, dead.
M. Flow.
'Sblood, how should my father come
dead?
Flow. Sen.
I' faith sir, according to the old proverb:
The child was born, and cried,
Became a man, after fell sick, and died.
Flow. Jun.
Nay, cousin, do not take it so heavily.
M. Flow.
Nay, I cannot weep you extempore:
marry, some two or three days hence I shall weep
without any stintance4 note.—But I hope he died in good
memory.
Flow. Sen.
Very well, sir, and set down every thing
in good order; and the Catharine and Hugh you
talk'd of, I came over in; and I saw all the bills of
lading; and the velvet that you talk'd of, there is no
such aboard.
M. Flow.
By God, I assure you5 note, then there is
knavery abroad.
Flow. Sen.
I'll be sworn of that: there's knavery
abroad, although there were never a piece of velvet
in Venice.
M. Flow.
I hope he died in good estate.
Flow. Sen.
To the report of the world he did;
and made his Will, of which I am an unworthy
bearer.
-- 456 --
M. Flow.
His Will! have you his Will?
Flow. Sen.
Yes, sir, aud in the presence of your
uncle I was will'd to deliver it.
[Delivers the Will.
Flow. Jun.
I hope, cousin, now God hath blessed
you with wealth, you will not be unmindful of me.
M. Flow.
I'll do reason, uncle: yet i'faith I take
the denial of this ten pound very hardly.
Flow. Jun.
Nay, I deny'd you not.
M. Flow.
By God you deny'd me directly.
Flow. Jun.
I'll be judg'd by this good fellow.
Flow. Sen.
Not directly, sir.
M. Flow.
Why, he said he would lend me none,
and that had wont to be a direct denial, if the old
phrase hold. Well, uncle, come, we'll fall to the
legacies. [reads.] “In the name of God, Amen.—
Item, I bequeath to my brother Flowerdale, three
hundred pounds, to pay such trivial debts as I owe
in London.
“Item, to my son Mat. Flowerdale, I bequeath two
bale of false dice, videlicet, high men and low men,
fulloms, stop-cater-traies, and other bones of function6 note
.”
'Sblood what doth he mean by this?
Flow. Jun.
Proceed, cousin.
M. Flow.
“These precepts I leave him: Let him
borrow of his oath; for of his word no body will
-- 457 --
trust him. Let him by no means marry an honest
woman; for the other will keep herself. Let him
steal as much as he can, that a guilty conscience may
bring him to his destinate repentance:”—I think he
means hanging. An this were his last will and testament,
the devil stood laughing at his bed's feet
while he made it. 'Sblood, what doth he think to
fob off his posterity with paradoxes?
Flow. Sen.
This he made, sir, with his own hands.
M. Flow.
Ay, well; nay come, good uncle, let
me have this ten pound: imagine you have lost it, or
were robb'd of it, or misreckon'd yourself so much;
any way to make it come easily off7 note
, good uncle.
Flow. Jun.
Not a penny.
Flow. Sen.
I'faith lend it him, sir. I myself have
an estate in the city worth twenty pound; all that
I'll engage for him: he saith it concerns him in a
marriage.
M. Flow.
Ay marry doth it. This is a fellow of
some sense, this: come, good uncle.
Flow. Jun.
Will you give your word for it, Kester?
Flow. Sen.
I will, sir, willingly.
Flow. Jun.
Well, cousin, come to me an hour
hence, you shall have it ready.
M. Flow.
Shall I not fail?
Flow. Jun.
You shall not, come or send.
M. Flow.
Nay I'll come myself.
Flow. Sen.
By my troth, would I were your worship's
man.
M. Flow.
What? would'st thou serve?
Flow. Sen.
Very willingly, sir.
M. Flow.
Why I'll tell thee what thou shalt do.
Thou say'st thou hast twenty pound: go into Birchin-Lane,
-- 458 --
put thyself into cloaths: thou shalt ride with
me to Croydon fair.
Flow. Sen.
I thank you, sir, I will attend you.
M. Flow.
Well, uncle, you will not fail me an
hour hence.
Flow. Jun.
I will not, cousin.
M. Flow.
What's thy name? Kester?
Flow. Sen.
Ay, sir.
M. Flow.
Well, provide thyself: uncle, farewel
till anon.
[Exit M. Flowerdale.
Flow. Jun.
Brother, how do you like your son?
Flow. Sen.
I'faith brother, like a mad unbridled colt,
Or as a hawk, that never stoop'd to lure:
The one must be tamed with an iron bit,
The other must be watch'd, or still she's wild8 note
.
Such is my son; a while let him be so;
For counsel still is folly's deadly foe.
I'll serve his youth, for youth must have his course;
For being restrain'd, it makes him ten times worse:
His pride, his riot, all that may be nam'd,
Time may recall, and all his madness tam'd.
[Exeunt.
-- 459 --
SCENE. II.
The high street in Croydon.
An inn appearing, with an open drinking booth before it.
Enter Sir Lancelot Spurcock, Weathercock, Daffodil, Artichoke, Luce, and Frances.
Sir Lanc.
Sirrah, Artichoke, get you home before;
And as you prov'd yourself a calf in buying,
Drive home your fellow calves that you have bought.
Art.
Yes, forsooth: Shall not my fellow Daffodil
go along with me?
Sir Lanc.
No, sir, no; I must have one to wait on me.
Art.
Daffodil, farewel, good fellow Daffodil.
You may see, mistress, I am set up by the halves;
Instead of waiting on you, I am sent to drive home calves.
[Exit.
Sir Lanc.
I'faith, Franke, I must turn away this Daffodil;
He's grown a very foolish sawcy fellow.
Fran.
Indeed la, father, he was so since I had him:
Before, he was wise enough for a foolish serving-man.
Weath.
But what say you to me, sir Lancelot?
Sir Lanc.
O, about my daughters?—well, I will go forward.
Here's two of them, God save them; but the third,
O she's a stranger in her course of life:
She hath refus'd you, master Weathercock.
Weath.
Ay by the rood, sir Lancelot, that she
hath; but had she try'd me, she should have found a
man of me indeed.
Sir Lanc.
Nay be not angry, sir, at her denial;
She hath refus'd seven of the worshipfull'st
And worthiest house-keepers this day in Kent:
Indeed she will not marry, I suppose.
-- 460 --
Weath.
The more fool she.
Sir Lanc.
What, is it folly to love chastity?
Weath.
No, no, mistake me not, sir Lancelot;
But 'tis an old proverb, and you know it well,
That women dying maids, lead apes in hell.
Sir Lanc.
That is a foolish proverb and a false.
Weath.
By the mass, I think it be, and therefore
let it go: but who shall marry with mistress Frances?
Fran.
By my troth they are talking of marrying
me, sister.
Luce.
Peace, let them talk:
Fools may have leave to prattle as they walk.
Daff.
Sentences still, sweet mistress9 note!
You have a wit, an it were your alabaster1 note.
Luce.
I'faith and thy tongue trips trenchmore2 note.
Sir Lanc.
No of my knighthood, not a suitor yet.
Alas, God help her, silly girl, a fool, a very fool;
But there's the other black-brows, a shrewd girl,
She hath wit at will, and suitors two or three;
Sir Arthur Greenshield one, a gallant knight,
A valiant soldier, but his power but poor:
Then there's young Oliver, the De'nshire lad3 note,
A wary fellow, marry full of wit,
And rich by the rood: But there's a third, all air,
-- 461 --
Light as a feather, changing as the wind;
Young Flowerdale.
Weath.
O he, sir, he's a desperate Dick indeed4 note
;
Bar him your house.
Sir Lanc.
Fie, sir, not so: he's of good parentage.
Weath.
By my fay5 note and so he is, and a proper man.
Sir Lanc.
Ay, proper enough, had he good qualities.
Weath.
Ay marry, there's the point, sir Lancelot:
for there's an old saying,
Be he rich, or be he poor6 note
,
Be he high, or be he low:
Be he born in barn or hall,
'Tis manners makes the man and all.
Sir Lanc.
You are in the right, master Weathercock.
Enter Civet.
Civ.
'Soul, I think I am sure cross'd, or witch'd
with an owl7 note
. I have haunted them, inn after inn,
booth after booth, yet cannot find them. Ha, yonder
they are; that's she. I hope to God 'tis she:
-- 462 --
nay, I know 'tis she now, for she treads her shoe a
little awry.
Sir Lanc.
Where is this inn? We are past it, Daffodil.
Daf.
The good sign is here, sir, but the back gate
is before8 note.
Civ.
Save you, sir. I pray may I borrow a piece
of a word with you?
Daf.
No pieces, sir.
Civ.
Why then the whole. I pray, sir, what may
yonder gentlewomen be?
Daf.
They may be ladies, sir, if the destinies and
mortality work.
Civ.
What's her name, sir?
Daf.
Mistress Frances Spurcock, sir Lancelot Spurcock's
daughter.
Civ.
Is she a maid, sir?
Daf.
You may ask Pluto and dame Proserpine
that: I would be loth to be riddled, sir9 note.
Civ.
Is she married, I mean, sir?
Daf.
The Fates know not yet what shoe-maker
shall make her wedding shoes.
Civ.
I pray where inn you, sir? I would be very
glad to bestow the wine of that gentlewoman1 note.
Daf.
At the George, sir.
Civ.
God save you, sir.
Daf.
I pray your name, sir?
Civ.
My name is master Civet, sir.
Daf.
A sweet name! God be with you, good master
Civet.
[Exit Civet.
-- 463 --
Sir Lanc.
Ha, have we spy'd you stout St. George? For all
Your dragon, you had best sell us good wine
That needs no ivy-bush. Well, we'll not sit by it,
As you do on your horse: This room shall serve:—
Drawer.
Enter Drawer.
Let me have sack for us old men:
For these girls and knaves small wines are the best.
A pint of sack,—no more.
Draw.
A quart of sack in the Three Tuns.
[Exit.
Sir Lanc.
A pint, draw but a pint. Daffodil, call
for wine to make yourselves drink.
Fran.
And a cup of small beer, and a cake, good
Daffodil.
[Daffodil goes into the house, and returns with wine, &c.
Enter M. Flowerdale, and Flowerdale Senior as his servant.
M. Flow.
How now! fie, sit in the open room?
Now good sir Lancelot, and my kind friend, worshipful
master Weathercock! What at your pint?
A quart for shame.
Sir Lanc.
Nay royster2 note
, by your leave we will away.
M. Flow.
Come, give us some musick, we'll go
dance. Be gone, sir Lancelot! what, and Fair day too?
Sir Lanc.
'Twere fouly done, to dance within the Fair.
M. Flow.
Nay if you say so, fairest of all Fairs,
then I'll not dance. A pox upon my taylor, he hath
spoil'd me a peach-colour sattin suit, cut upon cloth
-- 464 --
of silver3 note; but if ever the rascal serve me such another
trick, I'll give him leave, i'faith, to put me in
the calendar of fools, and you, and you, sir Lancelot,
and master Weathercock. My goldsmith too
on t'other side—I bespoke thee, Luce, a carcanet of
gold4 note
,
and thought thou should'st have had it for a
fairing; and the rogue puts me in rerages for orient
pearl5 note
: but thou shalt have it by Sunday night, wench.
Re-enter Drawer.
Draw.
Sir, here is one hath sent you a pottle
of Rhenish wine, brewed with rose-water6 note.
-- 465 --
M. Flow.
To me?
Draw.
No, sir; to the knight; and desires his
more acquaintance.
Sir Lanc.
To me? what's he that proves so kind?
Daf.
I have a trick to know his name, sir. He
hath a month's mind7 note here to mistress Frances; his
name is master Civet.
Sir Lanc.
Call him in, Daffodil.
[Exit Daffodil.
M. Flow.
O, I know him, sir; he is a fool, but
reasonable rich: his father was one of these lease-mongers,
these corn-mongers8 note
, these money-mongers;
but he never had the wit to be a whore-monger.
Enter Civet.
Sir Lanc.
I promise you, sir, you are at too much charge.
Civ.
The charge is small charge, sir; I thank God,
my father left me wherewithal. If it please you, sir,
I have a great mind to this gentlewoman here, in the
way of marriage.
Sir Lanc.
I thank you, sir. Please you to come to Lewsham,
To my poor house, you shall be kindly welcome.
I knew your father; he was a wary husband9 note
.—
To pay here, drawer.
Draw.
All is paid, sir; this gentleman hath paid
all.
-- 466 --
Sir Lanc.
I'faith you do us wrong;
But we shall live to make amends ere long.
Master Flowerdale, is that your man?
M. Flow.
Yes 'faith, a good old knave.
Sir Lanc.
Nay then I think
You will turn wise, now you take such a servant:
Come, you'll ride with us to Lewsham; let's away;
'Tis scarce two hours to the end of day.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A road near Sir Lancelot Spurcock's house, in Kent.
Enter Sir Arthur Greenshield, Oliver, Lieutenant, and Soldiers.
Sir Arth.
Lieutenant, lead your soldiers to the ships,
There let them have their coats; at their arrival
They shall have pay. Farewel; look to your charge.
Sol.
Ay, we are now sent away, and cannot so
much as speak with our friends.
Oli.
No man what e'er you used a zuch a fashion,
thick you cannot take your leave of your vreens.
Sir Arth.
Fellow, no more: lieutenant lead them off.
Sol.
Well, if I have not my pay and my cloaths,
I'll venture a running away, though I hang for't.
Sir Arth.
Away, sirrah: charm your tongue1 note
.
[Exeunt Lieutenant and Soldiers.
-- 467 --
Oli.
Bin you a presser, sir?
Sir Arth.
I am a commander, sir, under the king2 note
.
Oli.
'Sfoot man, an you be ne'er zutch a commander,
shud 'a spoke with my vreens before I chid 'a
gone; so shud.
Sir Arth.
Content yourself man; my authority will
stretch to press so good a man as you.
Oli.
Press me? I devy* note; press scoundrels, and thy
messels3 note
. Press me! che scorns thee i'faith; for
seest thee, here's a worshipful knight knows, cham
not to be pressed by thee.
Enter Sir Lancelot, Weathercock, M. Flowerdale, Flowerdale senior, Luce, and Frances.
Sir Lanc.
Sir Arthur, welcome to Lewsham4 note; welcome
by my troth. What's the matter man? why are
you vext?
Oli.
Why man, he would press me.
Sir Lanc.
O fie, sir Arthur, press him? he is a
man of reckoning.
-- 468 --
Weath.
Ay, that he is, sir Arthur; he hath the
nobles, the golden ruddocks he5 note
.
Sir Arth.
The fitter for the wars: and were he not
In favour with your worships, he should see
That I have power to press so good as he.
Oli.
Chill stand to the trial, so chill.
M. Flow.
Ay marry shall he. Press cloth and kersey6 note,
white-pot7 note and drowsen broth8 note! tut, tut, he
cannot.
Oli.
Well, sir, though you see vlouten cloth and
karsey, che 'a zeen zutch a karsey-coat wear out the
town sick a zilken jacket as thick a one you wear.
M. Flow.
Well said vlittan vlattan9 note.
Oli.
Ay, and well said cocknell, and Bow-bell too1 note.
What do'st think cham aveard of thy zilken-coat?
no vear vor thee.
Sir Lanc.
Nay come, no more: be all lovers and
friends.
Weath.
Ay, 'tis best so, good master Oliver.
M. Flow.
Is your name master Oliver, I pray you?
Oli.
What tit and be tit, and grieve you.
M. Flow.
No, but I'd gladly know if a man might
not have a foolish plot out of master Oliver to work
upon.
-- 469 --
Oli.
Work thy plots upon me! Stand aside: work
thy foolish plots upon me, chil so use thee, thou
wert never so used since thy dame bound thy head2 note.
Work upon me!
M. Flow.
Let him come, let him come.
Oli.
Zyrrha, Zyrrha, if it were not vor shame,
che would 'a given thee zutch a whister-poop under
the ear, che would have made thee a vanged another
at my feet: Stand aside, let me loose; cham all of
a vlaming fire-brand3 note; stand aside.
M. Flow.
Well, I forbear you for your friends' sake.
Oli.
A vig for all my vreens: do'st thou tell me of
my vreens?
Sir Lanc.
No more, good master Oliver; no more,
Sir Arthur. And, maiden, here in the sight
Of all your suitors, every man of worth,
I'll tell you whom I fainest would prefer
To the hard bargain of your marriage-bed.
Shall I be plain among you, gentlemen?
Sir Arth.
Ay, sir, it is best.
Sir Lanc.
Then, sir, first to you.
I do confess you a most gallant knight,
A worthy soldier, and an honest man:
But honesty maintains not a French-hood4 note
;
Goes very seldom in a chain of gold;
Keeps a small train of servants; hath few friends.
And for this wild oats here, young Flowerdale,
-- 470 --
I will not judge. God can work miracles;
But he were better make a hundred new,
Than thee a thrifty and an honest one.
Weath.
Believe me he hath hit you there; he hath
touch'd you to the quick; that he hath.
M. Flow.
Woodcock o' my side5 note! Why, master
Weathercock, you know I am honest, howsoever
trifles—
Weath.
Now by my troth I know no otherwise.
O, your old mother was a dame indeed;
Heaven hath her soul, and my wife's too, I trust:
And your good father, honest gentleman,
He is gone a journey, as I hear, far hence.
M. Flow.
Ay, God be praised, he is far enough;
He is gone a pilgrimage to Paradise,
And left me to cut a caper against care.
Luce, look on me that am as light as air.
Luce.
I'faith I like not shadows, bubbles, breath6 note;
I hate a Light o' love, as I hate death7 note
.
Sir Lanc.
Girl, hold thee there: look on this De'nshire lad;
Fat, fair, and lovely, both in purse and person.
Oli.
Well, sir, cham as the Lord hath made me.
You know me well ivin; cha have threescore pack
of karsey at Blackem-Hall8 note, and chief credit beside;
-- 471 --
and my fortunes may be so good as another's,
zo it may.
Luce.
'Tis you I love, whatsoever others say9 note.
Sir Arth.
Thanks, fairest.
M. Flow.
What, would'st thou have me quarrel
with him?
Flow. Sen.
Do but say he shall hear from you.
Sir Lanc.
Yet, gentlemen, howsoever I prefer
This De'nshire suitor, I'll enforce no love:
My daughter shall have liberty to choose
Whom she likes best. In your love-suit proceed:
Not all of you, but only one must speed.
Weath.
You have said well; indeed right well.
Enter Artichoke.
Art.
Mistress; here's one would speak with you.
My fellow Daffodil hath him in the cellar already;
he knows him; he met him at Croydon fair.
Sir Lanc.
O, I remember; a little man.
Art.
Ay, a very little man.
Sir Lanc.
And yet a proper man.
Art.
A very proper, very little man.
Sir Lanc.
His name is Monsieur Civet.
Art.
The same, sir.
Sir Lanc.
Come, gentlemen; if other suitors come,
My foolish daughter will be fitted too:
But Delia my saint, no man dare move.
[Exeunt all but M. Flowerdale, Oliver, and Flowerdale senior.
M. Flow.
Hark you, sir, a word.
Oli.
What han you say to me now1 note?
-- 472 --
M. Flow.
You shall hear from me, and that very
shortly.
Oli.
Is that all? vare thee well: che vere thee not
a vig.
[Exit Oliver.
M. Flow.
What if he should come more? I am
fairly dress'd2 note
.
Flow. Sen.
I do not mean that you shall meet with him;
But presently we'll go and draw a Will,
Where we'll set down land that we never saw;
And we will have it of so large a sum,
Sir Lancelot shall entreat you take his daughter.
This being form'd, give it master Weathercock,
And make sir Lancelot's daughter heir of all:
And make him swear never to show the Will
To any one, until that you be dead.
This done, the foolish changing Weathercock
Will straight discourse unto sir Lancelot
The form and tenour of your testament.
Ne'er stand to pause of it; be rul'd by me:
What will ensue, that shall you quickly see.
M. Flow.
Come, let's about it: if that a Will, sweet Kit,
Can get the wench, I shall renown thy wit.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A room in sir Lancelot's house.
Enter Daffodil and Luce.
Daf.
Mistress! still froward? No kind looks unto
your Daffodil? Now by the gods—
-- 473 --
Luce.
Away you foolish knave; let my hand go.
Daf.
There is your hand; but this shall go with me:
My heart is thine; this is my true love's fee.
[Takes off her bracelet.
Luce.
I'll have your coat stripp'd o'er your ears for this,
You sawcy rascal.
Enter sir Lancelot and Weathercock.
Sir Lanc.
How now, maid! what is the news with you?
Luce.
Your man is something sawcy.
[Exit Luce.
Sir Lanc.
Go to, sirrah; I'll talk with you anon.
Daf.
Sir, I am a man to be talked withal; I am
no horse, I trow. I know my strength, then no more
than so.
Weath.
Ay, by the makins, good sir Lancelot; I
saw him the other day hold up the bucklers3 note
,
like an Hercules. I'faith God-a-mercy, lad, I like
thee well.
Sir Lanc.
Ay, ay, like him well. Go sirrah, fetch me a cup of wine,
That ere I part with master Weathercock,
We may drink down our farewel in French wine.
[Exit Daffodil.
Weath.
I thank you, sir; I thank you, friendly knight.
I'll come and visit you; by the mouse-foot I will4 note:
-- 474 --
In the mean time, take heed of cutting Flowerdale5 note:
He is a desperate Dick, I warrant you.
Re-enter Daffodil.
Sir Lanc.
He is, he is. Fill, Daffodil, fill me some
wine. Ha! what wears he on his arm? My daughter
Luce's bracelet? ay, 'tis the same. Ha' to you,
master Weathercock.
Weath.
I thank you, sir. Here, Daffodil; an honest
fellow, and a tall, thou art6 note. Well; I'll take
my leave good knight; and I hope to have you and
all your daughters at my poor house; in good sooth
I must.
Sir Lanc.
Thanks, master Weathercock; I shall be
bold to trouble you, be sure.
Weath.
And welcome. Heartily farewel.
[Exit Weathercock.
Sir Lanc.
Sirrah, I saw my daughter's wrong, and
withal her bracelet on your arm. Off with it, and
with it my livery too. Have I care to see my daughter
match'd with men of worship? and are you grown
so bold? Go, sirrah, from my house, or I'll whip
you hence.
Daf.
I'll not be whipp'd sir; there's your livery:
This is a servingman's reward: what care I?
I have means to trust to; I scorn service, I.
[Exit Daffodil.
Sir Lanc.
Ay, a lusty knave; but I must let him go:
Our servants must be taught what they should know7 note.
[Exit.
-- 475 --
SCENE III.
Another room in the same.
Enter Sir Arthur, and Luce.
Luce.
Sir, as I am a maid, I do affect
You above any suitor that I have;
Although that soldiers scarce know how to love.
Sir Arth.
I am a soldier, and a gentleman
Knows what belongs to war, what to a lady.
What man offends me, that my sword shall right;
What woman loves me, I'm her faithful knight.
Luce.
I neither doubt your valour, nor your love.
But there be some that bear a soldier's form,
That swear by him they never think upon;
Go swaggering up and down from house to house,
Crying, God pays all8 note.
Sir Arth.
I'faith, lady, I'll descry you such a man.
Of them there be many which you have spoke of
That bear the name and shape of soldiers,
Yet, God knows, very seldom saw the war:
That haunt your taverns and your ordinaries,
Your ale-houses sometimes, for all alike,
To uphold the brutish humour of their minds,
Being mark'd down for the bondmen of despair:
Their mirth begins in wine, but ends in blood;
Their drink is clear, but their conceits are mud.
Luce.
Yet these are great gentlemen soldiers.
Sir Arth.
No, they are wretched slaves,
Whose desperate lives doth bring them timeless graves9 note.
-- 476 --
Luce.
Both for yousrelf note, and for your form of life,
If I may choose, I'll be a soldier's wife.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Another room in the same.
Enter Sir Lancelot and Oliver.
Oli.
And tyt trust to it, so then.
Sir Lanc.
Assure yourself
You shall be married with all speed we may:
One day shall serve for Frances and for Luce.
Oli.
Why che wou'd vain know the time, for providing
wedding raiments.
Sir Lanc.
Why no more but this. First get your
assurance made1 note touching my daughter's jointure;
that dispatch'd, we will in two days make provision.
Oli.
Why man, chill have the writings made by
to-morrow.
Sir Lanc.
To-morrow be it then: let's meet at the
King's-Head in Fish-street.
Oli.
No, fie man, no: let's meet at the Rose at
Temple-Bar; that will be nearer your counsellor and
mine.
Sir Lanc.
At the Rose be it then, the hour nine:
He that comes last forfeits a pint of wine.
Oli.
A pint is no payment; let it be a whole quart,
or nothing.
Enter Artichoke.
Art.
Master, here is a man would speak with
Master Oliver; he comes from young Master Flowerdale.
-- 477 --
Oli.
Why, chil speak with him, chil speak with
him.
Sir Lanc.
Nay, son Oliver, I will surely see
What young Flowerdale hath sent unto you.
I pray God it be no quarrel.
Oli.
Why man, if he quarrel with me, chil give
him his hands full.
Enter Flowerdale Senior.
Flow. Sen.
God save you, good sir Lancelot.
Sir Lanc.
Welcome, honest friend.
Flow. Sen.
To you and yours my master wisheth health;
But unto you, sir, this, and this he sends:
There is the length, sir, of his rapier;
And in that paper shall you know his mind.
[Delivers a letter.
Oli.
Here? chil meet him, my vriend, chil meet
him.
Sir Lanc.
Meet him! you shall not meet the ruffian, fie.
Oli.
An I do not meet him, chill give you leave to
call me cut2 note
. Where is't, sirrah? where is't? where
is't?
Flow Sen.
The letter showeth both the time and place;
And if you be a man, then keep your word.
-- 478 --
Sir Lanc.
Sir, he shall not keep his word; he shall not meet.
Flow. Sen.
Why let him choose; he'll be the better known
For a base rascal, and reputed so.
Oli.
Zirrah, zirrah, an 'twere not an old fellow,
and sent after an errant, chid give thee something,
but chud be no money: but hold thee, for I see
thou art somewhat testern3 note
; hold thee; there's vorty
shillings: bring thy master a-veeld, chil give thee
vorty more. Look thou bring him: chil maul him,
tell him; chil mar his dancing tressels; chil use
him, he was ne'er so us'd since his dame bound his
head; chil mar him for capering any more, che
vore thee4 note.
Flow. Sen.
You seem a man, sir, stout and resolute;
And I will so report, whate'er befall.
Sir Lanc.
And fall out ill, assure thy master this,
I'll make him fly the land, or use him worse.
Flow. Sen.
My master, sir, deserves not this of you;
And that you'll shortly find.
Sir Lanc.
Thy master is an unthrift, you a knave,
And I'll attach you first5 note, next clap him up;
Or have him bound unto his good behaviour.
Oli.
I wou'd you were a sprite, if you do him any
harm for this. An you do, chil nere see you, nor
any of yours, while chil have eyes open. What
do you think, chil be abaffelled up and down the
town for a messel, and a scoundrel6 note
? no che
-- 479 --
vore you7 note
. Zirrha, chil come; zay no more: chil
come, tell him.
Flow. Sen.
Well, sir, my master deserves not this of you,
And that you'll shortly find* note.
Oli.
No matter; he's an unthrift; I defy him.
[Exit Flowerdale Senior.
Sir Lanc.
Now gentle son, let me know the place.
Oli.
No, che vore you8 note.
Sir Lanc.
Let me see the note.
Oli.
Nay, chil watch you for zuch a trick. But if
che meet him, zo; if not, zo: chil make him know
me, or chil know why I shall not; chil vare the
worse.
Sir Lanc.
What! will you then neglect my daughter's love?
-- 480 --
Venture your state and her's for a loose brawl?
Oli.
Why man, chil not kill him: marry chil
veeze him too and again9 note; and zo God be with you,
vather. What, man! we shall meet to-morrow.
[Exit.
Sir Lanc.
Who would have thought he had been so desperate?
Come forth, my honest servant Artichoke.
[Enter Artichoke.
Arti.
Now, what's the matter? some brawl toward,
I warrant you.
Sir Lanc.
Go get me thy sword bright scower'd,
thy buckler mended. O for that knave! that villain
Daffodil would have done good service. But
to thee—
Arti.
Ay, this is the tricks of all you gentlemen,
when you stand in need of a good fellow. O for that
Daffodil! O, where is he? But if you be angry, an
it be but for the wagging of a straw, then—Out o' doors
with the knave; turn the coat over his ears. This is the
humour of you all.
Sir Lanc.
O for that knave, that lusty Daffodil!
Arti.
Why there 'tis now: our year's wages and
our vails will scarce pay for broken swords and bucklers
that we use in our quarrels. But I'll not fight
if Daffodil be o' t'other side, that's flat.
Sir Lanc.
'Tis no such matter, man. Get weapons ready,
And be at London ere the break of day:
Watch near the lodging of the De'nshire youth,
-- 481 --
But be unseen; and as he goeth out,
As he will go out, and that very early without doubt—
Arti.
What, would you have me draw upon him,
as he goes in the street?
Sir Lanc.
Not for a world, man.
Into the fields; for to the field he goes,
There to meet the desperate Flowerdale.
Take thou the part of Oliver my son,
For he shall be my son, and marry Luce:
Dost understand me, knave?
Arti.
Ay, sir, I do understand you; but my young
mistress might be better provided in matching with
my fellow Daffodil.
Sir Lanc.
No more; Daffodil is a knave. That
Daffodil is a most notorious knave.
[Exit Artichoke.
Enter Weathercock.
Master Weathercock, you come in happy time; the
desperate Flowerdale hath writ a challenge; and who
think you must answer it, but the Devonshire man,
my son Oliver?
Weath.
Marry I am sorry for it, good sir Lancelot.
But if you will be rul'd by me, we'll stay their fury.
Sir Lanc.
As how, I pray?
Weath.
Marry I'll tell you; by promising young
Flowerdale the red-lip'd Luce.
Sir Lanc.
I'll rather follow her unto her grave.
Weath.
Ay, sir Lancelot, I would have thought so too;
But you and I have been deceiv'd in him.
Come read this will, or deed, or what you call it,
I know not: Come, come; your spectacles I pray.
[Gives him the Will.
Sir Lanc.
Nay, I thank God, I see very well.
Weath.
Marry, God bless your eyes: mine have
been dim almost this thirty years.
-- 482 --
Sir Lanc.
Ha! what is this? what is this?
[Reads.
Weath.
Nay there's true love indeed:
He gave it to me but this very morn,
And bade me keep it unseen from any one.
Good youth! to see how men may be deceiv'd!
Sir Lanc.
Passion of me,
What a wretch am I to hate this loving youth!
He hath made me, together with my Luce
He loves so dear, executors of all
His wealth.
Weath.
All, all, good man, he hath given you all.
Sir Lanc.
Three ships now in the Straits, and homeward-bound;
Two lordships of two hundred pound a year,
The one in Wales, the other Gloucestershire:
Debts and accounts are thirty thousand pound;
Plate, money, jewels, sixteen thousand more;
Two housen furnish'd well in Coleman-street;
Beside whatsoe'er his uncle leaves to him,
Being of great domains and wealth at Peckham.
Weath.
How like you this, good knight? How
like you this?
Sir Lanc.
I have done him wrong, but now I'll make amends;
The De'nshire man shall whistle for a wife.
He marry Luce! Luce shall be Flowerdale's.
Weath.
Why that is friendly said. Let's ride to London,
And straight prevent their match, by promising
Your daughter to that lovely lad.
Sir Lanc.
We'll ride to London:—or it shall not need;
We'll cross to Deptford-strand, and take a boat.
Where be these knaves? what Artichoke! what fop!
Enter Artichoke.
Art.
Here be the very knaves, but not the merry
knaves.
-- 483 --
Sir Lanc.
Here take my cloak: I'll have a walk to
Deptford.
Arti.
Sir, we have been scouring of our swords and
bucklers for your defence.
Sir Lanc.
Defence me no defence; let your swords
rust, I'll have no fighting: ay, let blows alone. Bid
Delia see all things be in readiness against the
wedding: we'll have two at once, and that will save
charges, master Weathercock.
Arti.
Well we will do it, sir.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A walk before sir Lancelot's house.
Enter Civet, Frances, and Delia.
Civ.
By my truth this is good luck; I thank God
for this. In good sooth I have even my heart's desire.
Sister Delia—now I may boldly call you so,
for your father hath frank and freely given me his
daughter Franke1 note.
Fran.
Ay, by my troth, Tom, thou hast my good
will too; for I thank God I long'd for a husband;
and, would I might never stir, for one whose name
was Tom.
Del.
Why, sister, now you have your wish.
Civ.
You say very true, sister Delia; and I pr'ythee
call me nothing but Tom, and I'll call thee sweetheart,
and Franke. Will it not do well, sister Delia?
Del.
It will do very well with both of you.
Fran.
But Tom, must I go as I do now, when I
am married?
-- 484 --
Civ.
No, Franke; I'll have thee go like a citizen,
in a guarded gown and a French hood2 note
.
Fran.
By my troth, that will be excellent indeed.
Del.
Brother, maintain your wife to your estate.
Apparel you yourself like to your father,
And let her go like to your ancient mother:
He, sparing got his wealth, left it to you.
Brother, take heed of pride; it soon bids thrift adieu* note
.
Civ.
So as my father and my mother went! that's
a jest indeed. Why she went in a fring'd gown, a single
ruff, and a white cap; and my father in a mocado
coat3 note, a pair of red sattin sleeves, and a canvas back.
Del.
And yet his wealth was all as much as yours.
Civ.
My estate, my estate, I thank God, is forty
-- 485 --
pound a year in good leases and tenements; besides
twenty mark a year at Cuckolds-haven4 note; and that
comes to us all by inheritance.
Del.
That may indeed; 'tis very fitly 'ply'd.
I know not how it comes, but so it falls out,
That those whose fathers have died wond'rous rich,
And took no pleasure but to gather wealth,
Thinking of little that they leave behind
For them they hope will be of their like mind—
But it falls out contrary: forty years' sparing
Is scarce three seven years spending; never caring
What will ensue, when all their coin is gone.
And, all too late, when thrift is thought upon,
Oft have I heard that Pride and Riot kiss'd,
And then Repentance cries—for had I wist5 note
.
Civ.
You say well, sister Delia, you say well; but
I mean to live within my bounds: for look you, I
have set down my rest thus far6 note
, but to maintain my
wife in her French-hood and her coach, keep a
couple of geldings and a brace of grey-hounds; and
this is all I'll do.
Del.
And you'll do this with forty pounds a-year?
Civ.
Ay, and a better penny, sister7 note.
-- 486 --
Fran.
Sister, you forget that at Cuckold's-haven.
Civ.
By my troth well remember'd, Franke; I'll
give thee that to buy thee pins.
Del.
Keep you the rest for points8 note. Alas the day!
Fools shall have wealth though all the world say nay.
Come, brother, will you in? Dinner stays for us.
Civ.
Ay, good sister, with all my heart.
Fran.
Ay, by my troth, Tom, for I have a good
stomach.
Civ.
And I the like, sweet Franke. No sister,
do not think I'll go beyond my bounds.
Del.
God grant you may not.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
London.
The street before young Flowerdale's house.
Enter M. Flowerdale, and Flowerdale Senior.
Flow.
Sirrah, Kit, tarry thou there; I have spied
sir Lancelot and old Weathercock coming this way:
they are hard at hand; I will by no means be spoken
withal.
Flow. Sen.
I'll warrant you: go, get you in.
[Exit M. Flowerdale.
Enter Sir Lancelot and Weathercock.
Sir Lanc.
Now, my honest friend, thou dost belong
to master Flowerdale?
Flow. Sen.
I do, sir.
Sir Lanc.
Is he within, my good fellow?
Flow. Sen.
No, sir, he is not within.
Sir Lanc.
I pr'ythee, if he be within, let me speak
with him.
-- 487 --
Flow. Sen.
Sir, to tell you true, my master is
within, but indeed would not be spoke withal. There
be some terms that stand upon his reputation; therefore
he will not admit any conference till he hath
shook them off.
Sir Lanc.
I pr'ythee tell him, his very good friend,
sir Lancelot Spurcock, entreats to speak with him.
Flow. Sen.
By my troth, sir, if you come to take
up the matter between my master and the Devonshire
man, you do but beguile your hopes, and lose
your labour;—
Sir Lanc.
Honest friend, I have not any such thing
to him. I come to speak with him about other matters.
Flow. Sen.
For my master, sir, hath set down his
resolution, either to redeem his honour, or leave his
life behind him9 note;—
Sir Lan.
My friend, I do not know any quarrel
touching thy master or any other person. My business
is of a different nature to him; and I pr'ythee
so tell him.
Flow. Sen.
For howsoever the Devonshire man is,
my master's mind is bloody. That's a round O1 note
;
and therefore, sir, entreaty is but vain.
Sir Lanc.
I have no such thing to him, I tell thee
once again.
Flow. Sen.
I will then so signify to him.
[Exit Flowerdale Senior.
Sir Lanc.
A sirrah! I see this matter is hotly carried;
but I'll labour to dissuade him from it.
-- 488 --
Enter M. Flowerdale and Flowerdale Senior.
Good morrow, master Flowerdale.
M. Flow.
Good morrow, good sir Lancelot; good
morrow, master Weathercock. By my troth, gentlemen,
I have been reading over Nick Machiavel;
I find him good to be known, not to be followed.
A pestilent human fellow3 note! I have made certain annotations
on him, such as they be. And how is't, sir
Lancelot? ha! how is't? A mad world! men cannot
live quiet in it.
Sir Lanc.
Master Flowerdale, I do understand there
is some jar between the Devonshire man and you.
Flow. Sen.
They, sir? they are good friends as
can be.
M. Flow.
Who master Oliver and I? as good
friends as can be.
Sir Lanc.
It is a kind of safety in you to deny it,
and a generous silence, which too few are endued
withal: but, sir, such a thing I hear, and I could
wish it otherwise.
M. Flow.
No such thing, sir Lancelot, on my
reputation; as I am an honest man.
Sir Lanc.
Now I do believe you then, if you do
engage your reputation there is none.
M. Flow.
Nay I do not engage my reputation there
is not. You shall not bind me to any condition of
hardness; but if there be any thing between us, then
there is; if there be not, then there is not. Be or
be not, all is one.
Sir Lanc.
I do perceive by this, that there is
something between you; and I am very sorry for it.
M. Flow.
You may be deceiv'd, sir Lancelot.
The Italian hath a pretty saying. Questo—I have
-- 489 --
forgot it too; 'tis out of my head: but in my translation,
if it hold, thus. If thou hast a friend, keep
him; if a foe, trip him.
Sir Lanc.
Come, I do see by this there is somewhat
between you; and before God I could wish it otherwise.
M. Flow.
Well, what is between us, can hardly be
alter'd. Sir Lancelot, I am to ride forth to-morrow.
That way which I must ride, no man must deny me
the sun: I would not by any particular man be denied
common and general passage. If any one saith,
Flowerdale, thou passest not this way; my answer is,
I must either on, or return; but return is not my
word; I must on: if I cannot then make my way,
nature hath done the last for me; and there's the
fine4 note.
Sir Lanc.
Master Flowerdale, every man hath one
tongue, and two ears. Nature in her building is a
most curious work-master.
M. Flow.
That is as much as to say, a man
should hear more than he should speak.
Sir Lanc.
You say true; and indeed I have heard
more than at this time I will speak.
M. Flow.
You say well.
Sir Lanc.
Slanders are more common than truths,
master Flowerdale; but proof is the rule for both.
M. Flow.
You say true. What-do-you-call-him
hath it there in his third canton5 note
.
Sir Lanc.
I have heard you have been wild; I have
believ'd it.
M. Flow.
'Twas fit, 'twas necessary.
Sir Lanc.
But I have seen somewhat of late in you,
that hath confirm'd in me an opinion of goodness toward
you.
-- 490 --
M. Flow.
I'faith, sir, I'm sure I never did you harm:
Some good I have done, either to you or your's,
I am sure you know not; neither is it my will
You should.
Sir Lanc.
Ay, your Will, sir.
M. Flow.
Ay, my will, sir. 'Sfoot do you know
ought of my Will? By God an you do, sir, I am
abus'd.
Sir Lanc.
Go, master Flowerdale; what I know, I
know: and know you thus much out of my knowledge,
that I truly love you. For my daughter, she's
yours. And if you like a marriage better than a
brawl, all quirks of reputation set aside, go with me
presently; and where you should fight a bloody battle,
you shall be married to a lovely lady.
M. Flow.
Nay but, sir Lancelot—
Sir Lanc.
If you will not embrace my offer, yet assure
yourself thus much; I will have order to hinder
your encounter6 note
.
M. Flow.
Nay but hear me, sir Lancelot.
Sir Lanc.
Nay, stand not you upon imputative honour.
'Tis merely unsound, unprofitable, and idle
inference. Your business is to wed my daughter;
therefore give me your present word to do it. I'll
go and provide the maid; therefore give me your
present resolution; either now or never.
M. Flow.
Will you so put me to it?
Sir Lanc.
Ay, afore God, either take me now, or
take me never. Else what I thought should be our
match, shall be our parting: so fare you well for
ever.
M. Flow.
Stay; fall out, what may fall, my love
is above all: I will come.
-- 491 --
Sir Lanc.
I expect you; and so fare you well.
[Exeunt sir Lancelot and Weathercock.
Flow. Sen.
Now, sir, how shall we do for wedding
apparel?
M. Flow.
By the mass that's true. Now help Kit:
the marriage ended, we'll make amends for all.
Flow. Sen.
Well, well, no more; prepare you for your bride:
We will not want for cloaths, whate'er betide.
M. Flow.
And thou shalt see, when once I have my dower,
In mirth we'll spend full many a merry hour:
As for this wench, I not regard a pin,
It is her gold must bring my pleasures in.
[Exit.
Flow. Sen.
Is't possible he hath his second living7 note?
Forsaking God, himself to the devil giving?
But that I knew his mother firm and chaste,
My heart would say, my head she had disgrac'd;
Else would I swear, he never was my son:
But her fair mind so foul a deed did shun.
Enter Flowerdale Junior.
Flow. Jun.
How now, brother! how do you find your son?
Flow. Sen.
O brother, heedless as a libertine;
Even grown a master in the school of vice:
One that doth nothing, but invent deceit;
For all the day he humours up and down8 note
,
How he the next day might deceive his friend.
He thinks of nothing but the present time.
For one groat ready down, he'll pay a shilling;
-- 492 --
But then the lender must needs stay for it.
When I was young, I had the scope of youth,
Both wild and wanton, careless and desperate;
But such mad strains as he's possess'd withal
I thought it wonder for to dream upon.
Flow. Jun.
I told you so, but you would not believe it.
Flow. Sen.
Well I have found it: but one thing comforts me.
Brother, to-morrow he is to be married
To beauteous Luce, sir Lancelot Spurcock's daughter.
Flow. Jun.
Is't possible?
Flow. Sen.
'Tis true, and thus I mean to curb him.
This day, brother, I will you shall arrest him:
If any thing will tame him, it must be that;
For he is rank in mischief, chain'd to a life
That will encrease his shame, and kill his wife.
Flow. Jun.
What, arrest him on his wedding day? That
Were an unchristian, and unhuman part.
How many couple even for that very day
Have purchas'd seven years' sorrow afterward!
Forbear it then to-day; do it to morrow;
And this day mingle not his joy with sorrow.
Flow. Sen.
Brother, I'll have it done this very day,
And in the view of all, as he comes from church.
Do but observe the course that he will take;
Upon my life he will forswear the debt.
And, for we'll have the sum shall not be slight,
Say that he owes you near three thousand pound:
Good brother, let it be done immediately,
Flow. Jun.
Well, seeing you will have it so,
Brother I'll do't, and straight provide the shrieve.
Flow. Sen.
So brother, by this means shall we perceive
What sir Lancelot in this pinch will do,
-- 493 --
And how his wife doth stand affected to him,
(Her love will then be try'd to the uttermost)
And all the rest of them. Brother, what I will do,
Shall harm him much, and much avail him too.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A high road near London.
Enter Oliver; afterwards sir Arthur Greenshield.
Oli.
Cham assured thick be the place that the
scoundrel appointed to meet me. If 'a come, zo: if
'a come not, zo. And che were avise he would make
a coystrel on us9 note
, ched veese him, and ched vang him
in hand; che would hoyst him, and give it him to
and again, zo chud. Who been 'a there? sir Arthur?
chil stay aside.
[Goes aside.
Sir Arth.
I have dog'd the De'nshire man into the field,
For fear of any harm that should befal him.
I had an inkling of that yesternight,
That Flowerdale and he should meet this morning.
Though, of my soul, Oliver fears him not,
Yet for I'd see fair play on either side,
Made me to come, to see their valours try'd.—
Good morrow to master Oliver.
Oli.
God and good morrow.
Sir Arth.
What, master Oliver, are you angry?
-- 494 --
Oli.
What an it be, tyt and grieven you?
Sir Arth.
Not me at all, sir; but I imagine by
Your being here thus arm'd, you stay for some
That you should fight withal.
Oli.
Why an he do? che would not dezire you to
take his part.
Sir Arth.
No, by my troth, I think you need it not;
For he you look for, I think, means not to come.
Oli.
No! an che were assure of that, ched veeze
him in another place.
Enter Daffodil.
Daff.
O, sir Arthur, master Oliver, ah me!
Your love, and your's, and mine, sweet mistress Luce,
This morn is married to young Flowerdale.
Sir Arth.
Married to Flowerdale! 'tis impossible.
Oli.
Married, man? che hope thou dost but jest,
to make a vlowten merriment of it1 note
.
Daff.
O 'tis too true! here comes his uncle.
Enter Flowerdale Junior, with Sheriff and Officers.
Flow. Jun.
Good morrow, sir Arthur; good morrow,
master Oliver.
Oli.
God and good morn, master Flowerdale. I
pray you tellen us, is your scoundrel kinsman married?
Flow. Jun.
Master Oliver, call him what you will,
but he is married to sir Lancelot's daughter here.
Sir Arth.
Unto her?
-- 495 --
Oli.
Ay, ha' the old vellow zerved me thick a
trick? why man, he was a promise, chil chud 'a had
her: is 'a zutch a vox? chil look to his water, che
vore him.
Flow. Jun.
The musick plays; they are coming from the church.
Sheriff, do your office: fellows, stand stoutly to it.
Enter Sir Lancelot Spurcock, M. Flowerdale, Weathercock, Civet, Luce, Frances, Flowerdale Senior, and Attendants.
Oli.
God give you joy, as the old zaid proverb
is, and some zorrow among. You met us well, did
you not?
Sir Lanc.
Nay, be not angry, sir; the fault is in
me. I have done all the wrong; kept him from
coming to the field to you, as I might, sir; for I
am a justice, and sworn to keep the peace.
Weath.
Ay marry is he, sir, a very justice, and
sworn to keep the peace: you must not disturb the
weddings.
Sir Lanc.
Nay, never frown nor storm, sir; if you do,
I'll have an order taken for you.
Oli.
Well, well, chil be quiet.
Weath.
Master Flowerdale, sir Lancelot; look you
who here is? master Flowerdale.
Sir Lanc.
Master Flowerdale, welcome with all my
heart.
M. Flow.
Uncle, this is she i'faith.—Master Undersheriff,
arrest me? At whose suit?—Draw, Kit.
Flow. Jun.
At my suit, sir.
Sir Lanc.
Why, what's the matter, master Flowerdale?
Flow. Jun.
This is the matter, sir. This unthrift
here hath cozen'd you, and hath had of me in several
sums three thousand pound.
-- 496 --
M. Flow.
Why, uncle, uncle.
Flow. Jun.
Cousin, cousin, you have uncled me;
and if you be not staid, you'll prove a cozener2 note
unto
all that know you.
Sir Lanc.
Why, sir, suppose he be to you in debt
Ten thousand pound, his state to me appears
To be at least three thousand by the year.
Flow. Jun.
O, sir, I was too late inform'd of that plot;
How that he went about to cozen you,
And form'd a Will, and sent it
To your good friend there, master Weathercock,
In which was nothing true, but brags and lies.
Sir Lanc.
Ha! hath he not such lordships, lands, and ships?
Flow. Jun.
Not worth a groat, not worth a half-penny he.
Sir Lanc.
I pray tell us true; be plain, young Flowerdale.
M. Flow.
My uncle here's mad, and dispos'd to
do me wrong; but here's my man, an honest fellow
by the lord, and of good credit, knows all is true.
Flow. Sen.
Not I, sir; I am too old to lie. I rather know
You forg'd a Will, where every line you writ,
You studied where to quote your lands might lie3 note.
Weath.
And I pr'ythee where be they, honest
friend?
-- 497 --
Flow. Sen.
I'faith no where, sir, for he hath none at all.
Weath.
Benedicite! We are o'er-reach'd, I believe.
Sir Lanc.
I am cozen'd, and my hopefullest child undone.
M. Flow.
You are not cozen'd, nor is she undone.
They slander me; by this light, they slander me.
Look you, my uncle here's an usurer,
And would undo me; but I'll stand in law;
Do you but bail me, you shall do no more:
You brother Civet, and master Weathercock, do but bail me,
And let me have my marriage-money paid me,
And we'll ride down, and your own eyes shall see
How my poor tenants there will welcome me.
You shall but bail me, you shall do no more:—
And you, you greedy gnat4 note
, their bail will serve?
Flow. Jun.
Ay, sir, I'll ask no better bail.
Sir Lanc.
No, sir, you shall not take my bail, nor his,
Nor my son Civet's: I'll not be cheated, I.
Shrieve, take your prisoner; I'll not deal with him.
Let his uncle make false dice with his false bones;
I will not have to do with him: mock'd, gull'd, and wrong'd!
Come, girl, though it be late, it falls out well;
Thou shalt not live with him in beggar's hell.
Luce.
He is my husband, and high heaven doth know
-- 498 --
With what unwillingness I went to church;
But you enforc'd me, you compell'd me to it.
The holy church-man pronounc'd these words but now,
I must not leave my husband in distress:
Now I must comfort him, not go with you.
Sir Lanc.
Comfort a cozener! on my curse forsake him.
Luce.
This day you caus'd me on your curse to take him.
Do not, I pray, my grieved soul oppress:
God knows my heart doth bleed at his distress.
Sir Lanc.
O master Weathercock,
I must confess I forc'd her to this match,
Led with opinion his false Will was true.
Weath.
Ah, he hath o'er-reach'd me too.
Sir Lanc.
She might have liv'd
Like Delia, in a happy virgin's state.
Del.
Father, be patient: sorrow comes too late.
Sir Lanc.
And on her knees she begg'd and did entreat,
If she must needs taste a sad marriage life,
She crav'd to be sir Arthur Greenshield's wife.
Sir Arth.
You have done her and me the greater wrong.
Sir Lanc.
O, take her yet.
Sir Arth.
Not I.
Sir Lanc.
Or, master Oliver, accept my child,
And half my wealth is yours.
Oli.
No, sir, chil break no laws.
Luce.
Never fear, she will not trouble you.
Del.
Yet, sister, in this passion
Do not run headlong to confusion:
You may affect him, though not follow him.
Fran.
Do, sister; hang him, let him go.
Weath.
Do 'faith, mistress Luce; leave him.
Luce.
You are three gross fools; pray let me alone:
I swear, I'll live with him in all his moan.
-- 499 --
Oli.
But an he have his legs at liberty,
Cham aveard he will never live with you.
Sir Arth.
Ay, but he is now in huckster's handling
for running away5 note.
Sir Lanc.
Huswife, you hear how you and I are wrong'd,
And if you will redress it yet, you may:
But if you stand on terms to follow him,
Never come near my sight, nor look on me;
Call me not father, look not for a groat;
For all thy portion I will this day give
Unto thy sister Frances.
Fran.
How say you to that, Tom? [to Civet] I
shall have a good deal: besides, I'll be a good wife;
and a good wife is a good thing I can tell.
Civ.
Peace, Franke. I would be sorry to see thy
sister cast away, as I am a gentleman.
Sir Lanc.
What, are you yet resolv'd?
Luce.
Yes, I am resolv'd.
Sir Lanc.
Come then away; or now, or never come.
Luce.
This way I turn; go you unto your feast;
And I to weep, that am with grief opprest.
Sir Lanc.
For ever fly my sight: Come, gentlemen,
Let's in; I'll help you to far better wives than her.
Delia, upon my blessing talk not to her.
Base baggage, in such haste to beggary!
Flow. Jun.
Sheriff, take your prisoner to your
charge.
M. Flow.
Uncle, by God you have us'd me very
hardly, by my troth, upon my wedding-day.
[Exeunt Sir Lancelot, Civet, Weathercock, Frances, Delia, and their attendants.
-- 500 --
Luce.
O master Flowerdale, but hear me speak.
[To Flowerdale Junior.
Stay but a little while, good master sheriff;
If not for him, for my sake pity him.
Good sir, stop not your ears at my complaint;
My voice grows weak, for women's words are faint.
M. Flow.
Look you, uncle, she kneels to you.
Flow. Jun.
Fair maid, for you, I love you with my heart,
And grieve, sweet soul, thy fortune is so bad,
That thou should'st match with such a graceless youth.
Go to thy father, think not upon him,
Whom hell hath mark'd to be the son of shame.
Luce.
Impute his wildness, sir, unto his youth,
And think that now's the time he doth repent.
Alas, what good or gain can you receive,
To imprison him that nothing hath to pay?
And where nought is, the king doth lose his due:
O pity him as God shall pity you.
Flow. Jun.
Lady, I know his humours all too well;
And nothing in the world can do him good,
But misery itself to chain him with.
Luce.
Say that your debt were paid, then is he free?
Flow. Jun.
Ay, virgin; that being answer'd, I have done.
But to him that is all as impossible,
As I to scale the high pyramides.
Sheriff, take your prisoner: maiden, fare thee well.
Luce.
O go not yet, good master Flowerdale:
Take my word for the debt, my word, my bond.
M. Flow.
Ay, by God, uncle, and my bond too.
Luce.
Alas, I ne'er ought nothing but I paid it;
And I can work: alas, he can do nothing.
I have some friends perhaps will pity me:
His chiefest friends do seek his misery.
All that I can, or beg, get, or receive,
-- 501 --
Shall be for you. O do not turn away:
Methinks, within, a face so reverend,
So well experienc'd in this tottering world,
Should have some feeling6 note
of a maiden's grief:
For my sake, his father's and your brother's sake,
Ay, for your soul's sake, that doth hope for joy,
Pity my state; do not two souls destroy.
Flow. Jun.
Fair maid, stand up: not in regard of him,
But in pity of thy hapless choice, I
Do release him. Master sheriff, I thank you;
And officers, there is for you to drink.
Here, maid, take this money; there is a hundred angels:
And, for I will be sure he shall not have it,
Here, Kester, take it you, and use it sparingly;
But let not her have any want at all.
Dry your eyes, niece; do not too much lament
For him whose life hath been in riot spent:
If well he useth thee, he gets him friends,
If ill, a shameful end on him depends.
[Exit Flowerdale Junior.
M. Flow.
A plague go with you for an old fornicator!
Come, Kit, the money; come, honest
Kit.
Flow. Sen.
Nay, by my faith, sir, you shall pardon me.
-- 502 --
M. Flow.
And why, sir, pardon you? Give me
the money, you old rascal, or I will make you.
Luce.
Pray hold your hands; give it him, honest
friend.
Flow. Sen.
If you be so content, with all my heart.
[Gives the money.
M. Flow.
Content, sir? 'sblood she shall be content
whether she will or no. A rattle-baby come to follow
me! Go, get you gone to the greasy chuff your
father: bring me your dowry, or never look on me.
Flow. Sen.
Sir, she hath forsook her father, and all
her friends for you.
M. Flow.
Hang thee, her friends and father, all
together!
Flow. Sen.
Yet part with something to provide her lodging.
M. Flow.
Yes, I mean to part with her and you;
but if I part with one angel, hang me at a post. I'll
rather throw them at a cast of dice, as I have done a
thousand of their fellows.
Flow. Sen.
Nay then I will be plain: degenerate boy,
Thou hadst a father would have been asham'd—
M. Flow.
My father was an ass, an old ass.
Flow. Sen.
Thy father? thou proud licentious villain:
What are you at your foils? I'll foil with you.
Luce.
Good sir, forbear him.
Flow. Sen.
Did not this whining woman hang on me,
I'd teach thee what it was to abuse thy father.
Go hang, beg, starve, dice, game; that when all's gone,
Thou may'st after despair and hang thyself.
Luce.
O, do not curse him.
Flow. Sen.
I do not curse him; and to pray for him were vain:
It grieves me that he bears his father's name.
M. Flow.
Well, you old rascal, I shall meet with you,
-- 503 --
you* note. Sirrah, get you gone; I will not strip the
livery over your ears, because you paid for it: but
do not use my name, sirrah, do you hear? Look
you do not use my name, you were best.
Flow. Sen.
Pay me the twenty pound then that I
lent you, or give me security when I may have it.
M. Flow.
I'll pay thee not a penny,
And for security I'll give thee none.
Minckins7 note, look you do not follow me; look you do not:
If you do, beggar, I shall slit your nose.
Luce.
Alas, what shall I do?
M. Flow.
Why turn whore: that's a good trade;
And so perhaps I'll see thee now and then.
[Exit M. Flowerdale.
Luce.
Alas the day that ever I was born.
Flow. Sen.
Sweet mistress, do not weep; I'll stick to you.
Luce.
Alas, my friend, I know not what to do.
My father and my friends, they have despis'd me;
And I a wretched maid, thus cast away,
Know neither where to go, nor what to say.
Flow. Sen.
It grieves me at the soul, to see her tears
Thus stain the crimson roses of her cheeks.
Lady, take comfort; do not mourn in vain.
I have a little living in this town,
The which I think comes to a hundred pound;
All that and more shall be at your dispose.
I'll straight go help you to some strange disguise,
And place you in a service in this town,
Where you shall know all, yet yourself unknown.
Come, grieve no more, where no help can be had;
Weep not for him, that is more worse than bad* note.
Luce.
I thank you, sir.
[Exeunt.
-- 504 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A room in Sir Lancelot Spurcock's house in Kent.
Enter Sir Lancelot, Sir Arthur, Oliver, Weathercock, Civet, Frances, and Delia.
Oli.
Well, cha 'a bin zarved many a sluttish trick,
but such a lerripoop as thick ych was ne'er yzarved.
Sir Lanc.
Son Civet, daughter Frances, bear with me:
You see how I'm press'd down with inward grief,
About that luckless girl, your sister Luce.
But 'tis fallen out
With me, as with many families beside:
They are most unhappy, that are most belov'd.
Civ.
Father, 'tis so, 'tis even fallen out so.
But what remedy? set hand to your heart,
And let it pass. Here is your daughter Frances
And I; and we'll not say, we will bring forth
As witty children, but as pretty children
As ever she was, though she had the prick
And praise for a pretty wench8 note
: But father,
Dun is the mouse9 note
; you'll come?
-- 505 --
Sir Lanc.
Ay, son Civet, I'll come.
Civ.
And you, master Oliver?
Oli.
Ay, for che a vext out this veast, chil see if
a gan make a better veast there.
Civ.
And you, sir Arthur?
Sir Arth.
Ay, sir, although my heart be full,
I'll be a partner at your wedding feast.
Civ.
And welcome all indeed, and welcome. Come
Franke, are you ready?
Fran.
Jesu, how hasty these husbands are! I pray
father, pray to God to bless me.
Sir Lanc.
God bless thee! and I do. God make thee wise!
Send you both joy! I wish it with wet eyes.
Fran.
But, father, shall not my sister Delia go
along with us? she is excellent good at cookery, and
such things.
Sir Lanc.
Yes marry shall she: Delia, make you
ready.
Del.
I am ready, sir. I will first go to Greenwich;
from thence to my cousin Chesterfield's, and so to
London.
Civ.
It shall suffice, good sister Delia, it shall suffice;
but fail us not, good sister: give order to cooks
and others; for I would not have my sweet Franke
to soil her fingers.
Fran.
No, by my troth, not I. A gentlewoman,
and a married gentlewoman too, to be companion to
cooks and kitchen-boys! Not I, i'faith; I scorn
that.
Civ.
Why, I do not mean thou shalt, sweet-heart;
thou seest I do not go about it. Well, farewel to
you.—God's pity, master Weathercock! we shall
have your company too1 note?
-- 506 --
Weath.
With all my heart, for I love good cheer.
Civ.
Well, God be with you all. Come, Franke.
Fran.
God be with you, father; God be with you.
Sir Arthur, master Oliver, and master Weathercock,
sister, God be with you all: God be with you, father;
God be with you every one.
[Exeunt Civet and Frances.
Weath.
Why, how now, sir Arthur? all a-mort2 note
?
Master Oliver, how now, man?
Cheerly, sir Lancelot; and merrily say,
Who can hold that will away3 note
?
Sir Lanc.
Ay, she is gone indeed, poor girl, undone;
But when they'll be self-will'd, children must smart.
Sir Arth.
But, sir,
That she is wrong'd, you are the chiefest cause;
Therefore, 'tis reason you redress her wrong.
Weath.
Indeed you must, sir Lancelot, you must.
Sir Lanc.
Must? who can compel me, master
Weathercock? I hope I may do what I list.
Weath.
I grant you may; you may do what you list.
Oli.
Nay, but an you be well avisen, it were not
good, by this vrampolness4 note
and vrowardness, to
-- 507 --
cast away as pretty a Dowsabel5 note as an chould chance6 note
to see in a summer's day. Chil tell you what chall
do; chil go spy up and down the town, and see if I
can hear any tale or tydings of her, and take her
away from thick a messel; vor cham assured, he'll
but bring her to the spoil; and so vare you well. We
shall meet at your son Civet's.
Sir Lanc.
I thank you, sir; I take it very kindly.
Sir Arth.
To find her out, I'll spend my dearest blood;
So well I lov'd her, to affect her good.
[Exeunt Civet and Sir Arthur.
Sir Lanc.
O master Weathercock, what hap had I,
To force my daughter from master Oliver,
And this good knight, to one that hath no goodness
In his thought?
Weath.
Ill luck; but what remedy?
Sir Lanc.
Yes, I have almost devis'd a remedy:
Young Flowerdale is sure a prisoner.
Weath.
Sure; nothing more sure.
Sir Lanc.
And yet perhaps his uncle hath releas'd him.
Weath.
It may be very like; no doubt he hath.
Sir Lanc.
Well if he be in prison, I'll have warrants
To 'tach my daughter7 note till the law be tried;
For I will sue him upon cozenage.
Weath.
Marry may you, and overthrow him too.
Sir Lanc.
Nay that's not so; I may chance to be scoff'd
And sentence past with him.
-- 508 --
Weath.
Believe me, so it may; therefore take heed.
Sir Lanc.
Well howsoever, yet I will have warrants;
In prison, or at liberty, all's one:
You will help to serve them, master Weathercock?
[Exeunt.
SCENE. II.
A street in London.
Enter M. Flowerdale.
M. Flow.
A plague of the devil! the devil take
the dice! the dice and the devil and his dam go
together! Of all my hundred golden angels, I have
not left me one denier. A pox of come, a five8 note!
What shall I do? I can borrow no more of my credit:
there's not any of my acquaintance, man nor
boy, but I have borrowed more or less of. I would
I knew where to take a good purse, and go clear
away; by this light I'll venture for it. God's-lid,
my sister Delia: I'll rob her, by this hand.
Enter Delia and Artichoke.
Del.
I pr'ythee, Artichoke, go not so fast;
The weather's hot, and I am something weary.
Art.
Nay I warrant you, mistress Delia, I'll not
tire you with leading; we'll go an extreme moderate
pace.
M. Flow.
Stand; deliver your purse.
Art.
O lord, thieves, thieves!
[Exit Artichoke.
M. Flow.
Come, come, your purse; lady, your purse.
-- 509 --
Del.
That voice I have heard often before this time.
What, brother Flowerdale become a thief!
M. Flow.
Ay, plague on't, I thank your father: but sister,
Come, your money, come. What!
The world must find me; I am born to live;
'Tis not a sin to steal, where none will give.
Del.
O God, is all grace banish'd from thy heart?
Think of the shame that doth attend this fact.
M. Flow.
Shame me no shames. Come, give me your purse;
I'll bind you, sister, lest I fare the worse.
Del.
No, bind me not: hold, there is all I have;
And would that money would redeem thy shame.
Enter Oliver, Sir Arthur, and Artichoke.
Art.
Thieves, thieves, thieves!
Oli.
Thieves! where man? why how now, mistress
Delia. Ha' you yliked to been vrobb'd?
Del.
No, master Oliver; 'tis master Flowerdale;
he did but jest with me.
Oli.
How, Flowerdale, that scoundrel? Sirrah,
you meten us well; vang thee that* note.
[Strikes him.
M. Flow.
Well, sir, I'll not meddle with you,
because I have a charge.
Del.
Here brother Flowerdale, I'll lend you this
same money.
M. Flow.
I thank you, sister.
Oli.
I wad you were ysplit9 note
, an you let the messel
have a penny; but since you cannot keep it, chil
keep it myself.
-- 510 --
Sir Arth.
'Tis pity to relieve him in this sort,
Who makes a triumphant life his daily sport1 note
.
Del.
Brother, you see how all men censure you.
Farewel; and I pray God amend your life.
Oli.
Come, chil bring you along, and you, safe
enough from twenty such scoundrels as thick a one
is. Farewel and be hanged, zyrrah, as I think so
thou wilt be shortly. Come, sir Arthur.
[Exeunt all but M. Flowerdale.
M. Flow.
A plague go with you for a kersey rascal.
This De'nshire man I think is made all of pork:
His hands made only for to heave up packs;
His heart as fat and big as is his face;
As differing far from all brave gallant minds,
As I to serve the hogs, and drink with hinds;
As I am very near now. Well what remedy?
When money, means, and friends, do grow so small,
Then farewel life, and there's an end of all.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Another street.
Before Civet's house.
Enter Flowerdale Senior, Luce, like a Dutch Frow, Civet and Frances.
Civ.
By my troth, God-a-mercy for this, good
Christopher. I thank thee for my maid; I like her
very well. How dost thou like her, Frances?
-- 511 --
Fran.
In good sadness, Tom, very well, excellent
well; she speaks so prettily:—I pray what's your
name?
Luce.
My name, forsooth, be called Tanikin.
Fran.
By my troth a fine name. O Tanikin, you
are excellent for dressing one's head a new fashion.
Luce.
Me sall do every ting about de head.
Civ.
What countrywoman is she, Kester?
Flow. Sen.
A Dutch woman, sir.
Civ.
Why then she is outlandish, is she not?
Flow. Sen.
Ay, sir, she is.
Fran.
O then thou canst tell how to help me to
cheeks and ears2 note.
Luce.
Yes, mistress, very well.
Flow. Sen.
Cheeks and ears! why, mistress Frances,
want you cheeks and ears? methinks you have very
fair ones.
Fran.
Thou art a fool indeed. Tom, thou knowest
what I mean.
Civ.
Ay, ay, Kester; 'tis such as they wear a' their
heads. I pr'ythee, Kit, have her in, and shew her
my house.
Flow. Sen.
I will, sir. Come Tanikin.
Fran.
O Tom, you have not bussed me to-day,
Tom.
Civ.
No Frances, we must not kiss afore folks.
God save me, Franke. See yonder; my sister
Delia is come.
Enter Delia and Artichoke.
Welcome, good sister.
Fran.
Welcome, good sister. How do you like
the tire of my head?
Del.
Very well, sister.
-- 512 --
Civ.
I am glad you're come, sister Delia, to give
order for supper: they will be here soon.
Art.
Ay, but if good luck had not serv'd, she
had not been here now. Filching Flowerdale had
like to have pepper'd us: but for master Oliver, we
had been robb'd.
Del.
Peace, sirrah, no more.
Flow. Sen.
Robb'd! by whom?
Art.
Marry by none but by Flowerdale; he is
turn'd thief.
Civ.
By my faith, but that is not well; but God
be prais'd for your escape. Will you draw near,
sister?
Flow. Sen.
Sirrah, come hither. Would Flowerdale,
he that was my master, have robbed you? I
pr'ythee tell me true.
Art.
Yes i'faith, even that Flowerdale that was thy
master.
Flow. Sen.
Hold thee; there is a French crown,
and speak no more of this.
[Aside.
Art.
Not I, not a word.—Now do I smell knavery:
in every purse Flowerdale takes, he is half; and gives
me this to keep counsel:—not a word, I.
Flow. Sen.
Why God-a-mercy.
Fran.
Sister, look here; I have a new Dutch maid,
and she speaks so fine, it would do your heart
good.
Civ.
How do you like her, sister?
Del.
I like your maid well.
Civ.
Well, dear sister, will you draw near, and
give directions for supper? Guests will be here presently.
Del.
Yes, brother; lead the way, I'll follow you.
[Exeunt all but Delia and Luce.
Hark you, Dutch frow, a word.
Luce.
Vat is your vill wit me?
Del.
Sister Luce, 'tis not your broken language,
-- 513 --
Nor this same habit, can disguise your face
From I that know you. Pray tell me, what means this.
Luce.
Sister, I see you know me; yet be secret.
This borrowed shape that I have ta'en upon me,
Is but to keep myself a space unknown,
Both from my father, and my nearest friends;
Until I see how time will bring to pass
The desperate course of master Flowerdale.
Del.
O he is worse than bad; I pr'ythee leave him;
And let not once thy heart to think on him.
Luce.
Do not perswade me once to such a thought.
Imagine yet that he is worse than naught;
Yet one hour's time3 note
may all that ill undo
That all his former life did run into.
Therefore, kind sister, do not disclose my estate;
If e'er his heart doth turn, 'tis ne'er too late.
Del.
Well, seeing no counsel can remove your mind,
I'll not disclose you that are wilful blind.
Luce.
Delia, I thank you. I now must please her eyes,
My sister Frances' neither fair nor wise.
[Exeunt.
-- 514 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Street before Civet's house.
Enter M. Flowerdale.
M. Flow.
On goes he that knows no end of his
journey. I have pass'd the very utmost bounds of
shifting; I have no course now but to hang myself.
I have liv'd since yesterday two o'clock on a spice-cake
I had at a burial4 note; and for drink, I got it at
an ale-house among porters, such as will bear out a
man if he have no money indeed; I mean—out of
their companies, for they are men of good carriage5 note
.
Who comes here? the two coney-catchers6 note
that
won all my money of me. I'll try if they'll lend me
any.
Enter Dick and Ralph.
What master Richard, how do you? How dost thou,
Ralph? By God, gentlemen, the world grows bare
with me; will you do as much as lend me an angel
between you both? You know, you won a hundred
of me the other day.
Ralph.
How! an angel? God damn us if we lost
not every penny within an hour after thou wert gone.
-- 515 --
M. Flow.
I pr'ythee lend me so much as will pay
for my supper: I'll pay you again, as I am a gentleman.
Ralph.
I'faith, we have not a farthing, not a mite.
I wonder at it, master Flowerdale,
You will so carelesly undo yourself.
Why you will lose more money in an hour,
Than any honest man spends in a year.
For shame betake you to some honest trade,
And live not thus so like a vagabond.
[Exeunt Dick and Ralph.
M. Flow.
A vagabond indeed; more villains you:
They give me counsel that first cozen'd me.
Those devils first brought me to this I am,
And being thus, the first that do me wrong.
Well, yet I have one friend left me in store.
Not far from hence there dwells a cockatrice7 note,
One that I first put in a sattin gown;
And not a tooth that dwells within her head,
But stands me at the least in twenty pound:
Her will I visit now my coin is gone;
And as I take it here dwells the gentlewoman.
[Knocks.
What ho, is mistress Apricock within?
Enter Ruffian.
Ruf.
What sawcy rascal's that which knocks so bold?
O, is it you, old spend-thrift? Are you here?
One that is turned cozener 'bout the town?
My mistress saw you, and sends this word by me;
Either be packing quickly from the door,
-- 516 --
Or you shall have such a greeting sent you straight
As you will little like on: you had best be gone.
[Exit.
M. Flow.
Why so, this is as it should be; being poor,
Thus art thou serv'd by a vile painted whore.
Well, since thy damned crew do so abuse thee,
I'll try of honest men, how they will use me.
Enter an ancient Citizen.
Sir, I beseech you to take compassion of a man; one
whose fortunes have been better than at this instant
they seem to be: but if I might crave of you so
much little portion as would bring me to my friends,
I would rest thankful until I had requited so great
a courtesy.
Cit.
Fie, fie, young man! this course is very bad.
Too many such have we about this city;
Yet for I have not seen you in this sort,
Nor noted you to be a common beggar,
Hold; there's an angel to bear your charges down.
Go to your friends; do not on this depend:
Such bad beginnings oft have worser end.
[Exit Citizen.
M. Flow.
Worser end! nay, if it fall out no worse
than in old angels, I care not. Nay, now I have
had such a fortunate beginning, I'll not let a sixpenny
purse escape me* note:—By the mass here comes
another.
Enter a Citizen's Wife and a Servant with a torch before her.
God bless you, fair mistress. Now would it please
you, gentlewoman, to look into the wants of a poor
-- 517 --
gentleman, a younger brother, I doubt not but God
will treble restore it back again; one that never
before this time demanded penny, half-penny, nor
farthing.
Cit. Wife.
Stay, Alexander. Now by my troth a
very proper man; and 'tis great pity. Hold, my
friend; there's all the money I have about me, a
couple of shillings; and God bless thee.
M. Flow.
Now God thank you, sweet lady. If
you have any friend, or garden-house8 note where you
may employ a poor gentleman as your friend, I am
yours to command in all secret service.
Cit. Wife.
I thank you good friend; I pr'ythee let
me see that again I gave thee; there is one of them
a brass shilling: give me them, and here is half a
crown in gold. [He gives the money to her.] Now out
upon thee, rascal: secret service! what dost thou
make of me? It were a good deed to have thee
whipp'd: Now I have my money again, I'll see thee
hang'd before I give thee a penny. Secret service!—
On, good Alexander.
[Exeunt Citizen's Wife and Servant.
M. Flow.
This is villainous luck; I perceive dishonesty
will not thrive. Here comes more. God
forgive me, sir Arthur and master Oliver. Afore God
I'll speak to them.
Enter Sir Arthur, and Oliver.
God save you, sir Arthur; God save you, master
Oliver.
Oli.
Been you there, zirrah? come will you ytaken
yourself to your tools, coystrel?
-- 518 --
M. Flow.
Nay, master Oliver, I'll not fight with you.
Alas, sir, you know it was not my doings;
It was only a plot to get sir Lancelot's daughter:
By God I never meant you harm.
Oli.
And where is the gentlewoman thy wife,
mezel? where is she, zirrah, ha?
M. Flow.
By my troth, master Oliver, sick, very
sick: and God is my judge, I know not what means
to make for her, good gentlewoman.
Oli.
Tell me true; is she sick? tell me true, ich
'vise thee.
M. Flow.
Yes 'faith, I tell you true, master Oliver:
if you would do me the small kindness but to lend
me forty shillings, so God help me, I will pay you
so soon as my ability shall make me able;—as I am
a gentleman.
Oli.
Well, thou zaist thy wife is zick; hold,
there's vorty shillings; give it to thy wife. Look thou
give it her, or I shall zo veeze thee9 note, thou wert not
zo veezed this zeven year; look to it.
Sir Arth.
I'faith, master Oliver, 'tis in vain
To give to him that never thinks of her.
Oli.
Well, would che could yvind it.
M. Flow.
I tell you true, sir Arthur, as I am a
gentleman.
Oli.
Well, farewel zirrah: come, sir Arthur.
[Exeunt Sir Arthur and Oliver.
M. Flow.
By the lord, this is excellent;
Five golden angels compass'd in an hour:
If this trade hold, I'll never seek a new.
Welcome, sweet gold, and beggary adieu.
Enter Flowerdale Junior and Flowerdale Senior.
Flow. Jun.
See, Kester, if you can find the house.
-- 519 --
M. Flow.
Who's here? My uncle, and my man
Kester? By the mass 'tis they. How do you uncle?
how dost thou, Kester? By my troth, uncle, you
must needs lend me some money. The poor gentlewoman
my wife, so God help me, is very sick: I
was robb'd of the hundred angels you gave me; they
are gone.
Flow. Jun.
Ay, they are gone indeed. Come, Kester,
away.
M. Flow.
Nay, uncle; do you hear, good uncle?
Flow. Jun.
Out, hypocrite, I will not hear thee
speak: come, leave him, Kester.
M. Flow.
Kester, honest Kester.
Flow. Sen.
Sir, I have nought to say to you. Open
the door to me, 'Kin note: thou had'st best lock it fast, for
there's a false knave without.
[Flowerdale Senior and Flowerdale Junior go in.
M. Flow.
You are an old lying rascal, so you are.
Enter, from Civet's house, Luce.
Luce.
Vat is de matter? Vat be you, yonker?
M. Flow.
By this light a Dutch Frow; they say
they are called kind. By this light, I'll try her.
Luce.
Vat bin you, yonker? why do you not speak?
M. Flow.
By my troth, sweet heart, a poor gentleman
that would desire of you, if it stand with your
liking, the bounty of your purse.
Re-enter Flowerdale Senior.
Luce.
O hear God! so young an armin1 note!
-- 520 --
M. Flow.
Armin, sweet-heart? I know not what
you mean by that; but I am almost a beggar.
Luce.
Are you not a married man? vere bin your
vife? Here is all I have; take dis.
M. Flow.
What gold, young frow? this is brave.
Flow. Sen.
If he have any grace, he'll now repent.
Luce.
Why speak you not? vere be your vife?
M. Flow.
Dead, dead; she's dead, 'tis she hath
undone me. Spent me all I had, and kept rascals
under my nose to brave me.
Luce.
Did you use her vell?
M. Flow.
Use her! there's never a gentlewoman in
England could be better used than I did her. I
could but coach her; her diet stood me in forty pound
a month: but she is dead; and in her grave my cares
are buried.
Luce.
Indeed dat vas not scone2 note.
Flow. Sen.
He is turn'd more devil than he was
before.
M. Flow.
Thou dost belong to master Civet here,
dost thou not?
Luce.
Yes, me do.
M. Flow.
Why there's it! there's not a handful of
plate but belongs to me. God's my judge, if I had
such a wench as thou art, there's never a man in
England would make more of her, than I would do—
so she had any stock.
[Within,
O, why Tanikin.
Luce.
Stay; one doth call; I shall come by and by
again.
[Exit.
M. Flow.
By this hand, this Dutch wench is in
love with me. Were it not admirable to make her
steal all Civet's plate, and run away?
-- 521 --
Flow. Sen.
It were beastly. O master Flowerdale,
Have you no fear of God, nor conscience?
What do you mean by this vile course you take?
M. Flow.
What do I mean? why, to live; that I
mean.
Flow. Sen.
To live in this sort? Fie upon the course:
Your life doth show you are a very coward.
M. Flow.
A coward! I pray in what?
Flow. Sen.
Why you will borrow six-pence of a boy.
M. Flow.
'Snails, is there such cowardice in
that? I dare borrow it of a man, ay, and of the
tallest man in England,—if he will lend it me: let
me borrow it how I can, and let them come by it
how they dare. And it is well known, I might have
rid out3 note a hundred times if I would, so I might.
Flow. Sen.
It was not want of will, but cowardice.
There is none that lends to you, but know they gain:
And what is that but only stealth in you?
Delia might hang you now, did not her heart
Take pity of you for her sister's sake.
Go get you hence, lest ling'ring here your stay,
You fall into their hands you look not for.
M. Flow.
I'll tarry here, 'till the Dutch frow comes,
if all the devils in hell were here.
[Flowerdale Senior goes in to Civet's house.
Enter Sir Lancelot, Master Weathercock, and Artichoke.
Sir Lanc.
Where is the door? are we not past it,
Artichoke?
Art.
By the mass here's one; I'll ask him. Do
you hear, sir? What, are you so proud? Do you
hear? Which is the way to master Civet's house?
-- 522 --
What, will you not speak? O me! this is filching
Flowerdale.
Sir Lanc.
O wonderful! is this lewd villain here?
O you cheating rogue, you cut-purse, coney-catcher!
What ditch, you villain, is my daughter's grave?
A cozening rascal, that must make a will,
Take on him that strict habit, very that,
When he should turn to angel; a dying grace4 note
.
I'll father-in-law you, sir, I'll make a will;
Speak, villain, where's my daughter?
Poison'd, I warrant you, or knock'd o' the head:
And to abuse good master Weathercock,
With his forg'd will, and master Weathercock,
To make my grounded resolution* note
;
Then to abuse the De'nshire gentleman:
Go; away with him to prison.
M. Flow.
Wherefore to prison? sir, I will not go.
Enter Civet and his Wife, Oliver, Sir Arthur, Flowerdale Senior, Flowerdale Junior, and Delia.
Sir Lanc.
O here's his uncle: welcome, gentlemen,
welcome all. Such a cozener, gentlemen, a
murderer too, for any thing I know! My daughter
is missing; hath been look'd for; cannot be found.
A vild upon thee!
Flow. Jun.
He is my kinsman, though his life be vile:
Therefore, in God's name, do with him what you will.
-- 523 --
Sir Lanc.
Marry to prison.
M. Flow.
Wherefore to prison? snick-up5 note
. I owe
you nothing.
Sir Lanc.
Bring forth my daughter then: Away with
him.
M. Flow.
Go seek your daughter. What do you
lay to my charge?
Sir Lanc.
Suspicion of murder. Go; away with
him.
M. Flow.
Murder your dogs! I murder your
daughter? Come, uncle, I know you'll bail me.
Flow. Jun.
Not I, were there no more than I the
gaoler, thou the prisoner.
Sir Lanc.
Go; away with him.
Enter Luce.
Luce.
O' my life hear: where will you ha' de man?
Vat ha' de yonker done?
Weath.
Woman, he hath kill'd his wife.
Luce.
His wife! dat is not good; dat is not seen.
Sir Lanc.
Hang not upon him, huswife; if you do,
I'll lay you by him.
Luce.
Have me no oder way dan you have him6 note:
He tell me dat he love me heartily.
Fran.
Lead away my maid to prison! why, Tom,
will you suffer that?
-- 524 --
Civ.
No, by your leave, father, she is no vagrant:
she is my wife's chamber-maid, and as true
as the skin between any man's brows here7 note
.
Sir Lanc.
Go to, you're both fools.
Son Civet, of my life this is a plot;
Some straggling counterfeit prefer'd to you,
No doubt to rob you of your plate and jewels:—
I'll have you led away to prison, trull.
Luce.
I am no trull, neither outlandish frow:
Nor he nor I shall to the prison go.
Know you me now? nay, never stand amaz'd.
[Throws off her Dutch dress.
Father, I know I have offended you;
And though that duty wills me bend my knees
To you in duty and obedience,
Yet this way do I turn, and to him yield
My love, my duty, and my humbleness.
Sir Lanc.
Bastard in nature! kneel to such a slave?
Luce.
O master Flowerdale, if too much grief
Have not stopp'd up the organs of your voice,
Then speak to her that is thy faithful wife;
Or doth contempt of me thus tie thy tongue?
Turn not away; I am no Æthiop,
No wanton Cressid, nor a changing Helen;
But rather one made wretched by thy loss.
What! turn'st thou still from me? O then
I guess thee wofull'st among hapless men.
M. Flow.
I am indeed, wife, wonder among wives!
Thy chastity and virtue hath infus'd
Another soul in me, red with defame,
For in my blushing cheeks is seen my shame.
Sir Lanc.
Out hypocrite! I charge thee trust him not.
-- 525 --
Luce.
Not trust him? By the hopes of after-bliss,
I know no sorrow can be compar'd to his.
Sir Lanc.
Well, since thou wert ordain'd to beggary,
Follow thy fortune: I defy thee, I* note
.
Oli.
I wood che were so well ydoussed as was ever
white cloth in a tocking mill8 note, an che ha' not made
me weep.
Flow. Sen.
If he hath any grace, he'll now repent.
Sir Arth.
It moves my heart.
Weath.
By my troth I must weep, I cannot choose.
Flow. Jun.
None but a beast would such a maid misuse.
M. Flow.
Content thyself, I hope to win his favour,
And to redeem my reputation lost:
And, gentlemen, believe me, I beseech you;
I hope your eyes shall behold such a change
As shall deceive your expectation.
Oli.
I would che were ysplit now, but che believe
him.
Sir Lanc.
How! believe him!
Weath.
By the mackins, I do.
Sir Lanc.
What do you think that e'er he will have grace?
Weath.
By my faith it will go hard.
Oli.
Well, che vore ye, he is chang'd: And, master
Flowerdale, in hope you been so, hold, there's
vorty pound toward your zetting up. What! be not
ashamed; vang it, man, vang it: be a good husband,
loven to your wife; and you shall not want for vorty
more, I che vore thee.
Sir Arth.
My means are little, but if you'll follow me,
-- 526 --
I will instruct you in my ablest power:
But to your wife I give this diamond,
And prove true diamond-fair in all your life.
M. Flow.
Thanks, good sir Arthur: master Oliver,
You being my enemy, and grown so kind,
Binds me in all endeavour to restore—
Oli.
What! restore me no restorings, man; I have
vorty pound more for Luce here; vang it: zouth chil
devy London else. What, do you think me a mezel
or a scoundrel, to throw away my money? Che have
an hundred pound more to pace of any good spotation.
I hope your under9 note
and your uncle will vollow
my zamples.
Flow. Jun.
You have guess'd right of me; if he
leave off this course of life, he shall be mine heir.
Sir Lanc.
But he shall never get a groat of me.
A cozener, a deceiver, one that kill'd
His painful father, honest gentleman,
That pass'd the fearful danger of the sea,
To get him living, and maintain him brave1 note.
Weath.
What hath he kill'd his father?
Sir Lanc.
Ay, sir, with conceit of his vile courses.
Flow. Sen.
Sir, you are misinform'd.
Sir Lanc.
Why, thou old knave, thou told'st me
so thyself.
Flow. Sen.
I wrong'd him then: and towards my master's stock
There's twenty nobles for to make amends.
M. Flow.
No, Kester, I have troubled thee, and wrong'd thee more;
What thou in love giv'st, I in love restore.
Fran.
Ha, ha, sister! there you play'd bo-peep
-- 527 --
with Tom. What shall I give her toward houshold?
sister Delia, shall I give her my fan?
Del.
You were best ask your husband.
Fran.
Shall I, Tom?
Civ.
Ay, do, Franke; I'll buy thee a new one
with a longer handle2 note.
Fran.
A russet one, Tom.
Civ.
Ay, with russet feathers.
Fran.
Here, sister; there's my fan toward houshold,
to keep you warm.
Luce.
I thank you, sister.
Weath.
Why this is well; and toward fair Luce's stock
Here's forty shillings: and forty good shillings more,
I'll give her, marry. Come sir Lancelot,
I must have you friends.
Sir Lanc.
Not I: all this is counterfeit; he will
consume it were it a million.
Flow. Sen.
Sir, what is your daughter's dower worth?
Sir Lanc.
Had she been married to an honest man,
It had been better than a thousand pound.
Flow. Sen.
Pay it to him, and I'll give you my bond
To make her jointure better worth than three.
Sir Lanc.
Your bond, sir! why, what are you?
Flow. Sen.
One whose word in London, tho' I say it,
Will pass there for as much as yours.
Sir Lanc.
Wert not thou late that unthrift's servingman?
Flow. Sen.
Look on me better, now my sear is off:
Ne'er muse, man, at this metamorphosy.
Sir Lanc.
Master Flowerdale!
M. Flow.
My father! O, I shame to look on him.
Pardon, dear father, the follies that are past.
-- 528 --
Flow. Sen.
Son, son, I do; and joy at this thy change,
And applaud thy fortune in this virtuous maid,
Whom heaven hath sent to thee to save thy soul.
Luce.
This addeth joy to joy; high heaven be prais'd.
Weath.
Master Flowerdale, welcome from death,
good master Flowerdale. 'Twas said so here, 'twas
said so here, good faith.
Flow. Sen.
I caus'd that rumour to be spread myself,
Because I'd see the humours of my son,
Which to relate the circumstance is needless.
And sirrah, see
You run no more into that same disease:
For he that's once cur'd of that malady,
Of riot, swearing, drunkenness, and pride,
And falls again into the like distress,
That fever's deadly, doth till death endure:
Such men die mad, as of a calenture.
M. Flow.
Heaven helping me, I'll hate the course as hell.
Flow. Jun.
Say it, and do it, cousin, all is well.
Sir Lanc.
Well, being in hope you'll prove an honest man,
I take you to my favour. Brother Flowerdale,
Welcome with all my heart: I see your care
Hath brought these acts to this conclusion,
And I am glad of it. Come, let's in, and feast.
Oli.
Nay zoft you a while. You promis'd to
make sir Arthur and me amends: here is your wisest
daughter; see which on us she'll have.
Sir Lanc.
A God's name, you have my good will; get hers.
Oli.
How say you then, damsel?
Del.
I, sir, am yours.
Oli.
Why, then send for a vicar, and chil have it
dispatched in a trice; so chil.
Del.
Pardon me, sir; I mean that I am yours
-- 529 --
In love, in duty, and affection;
But not to love as wife: it shall ne'er be said,
Delia was buried married, but a maid.
Sir Arth.
Do not condemn yourself for ever, virtuous
fair; you were born to love.
Oli.
Why you say true, sir Arthur; she was ybore
to it, so well as her mother:—but I pray you show us
some zamples or reasons why you will not marry?
Del.
Not that I do condemn a married life,
(For 'tis no doubt a sanctimonious thing,)
But for the care and crosses of a wife;
The trouble in this world that children bring.
My vow's in heaven, on earth to live alone;
Husbands, howsoever good, I will have none.
Oli.
Why then, che will live a bachelor too. Che
zet not a vig by a wife, if a wife zet not a vig by me.
—Come, shall's go to dinner?
Flow. Sen.
To-morrow I crave your companies in Mark-lane:
To-night we'll frolick in master Civet's house,
And to each health drink down a full carouse3.
