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Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
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ACT V. SCENE I. The street before the Widow's house. Enter Edmond and Frailty.

Edm.

This is the marriage-morning for my mother and my sister.

Frail.

O me, master Edmond! we shall have rare doings.

Edm.

Nay go, Frailty, run to the sexton; you know my mother will be married at Saint Antling's. Hie thee; 'tis past five; bid them open the church-door: my sister is almost ready.

Frail.

What already, master Edmond?

Edm.

Nay, go; hie thee. First run to the sexton, and run to the clerk; and then run to master Pigman the parson; and then run to the milliner, and then run home again.

Frail.

Here's run, run, run.

Edm.

But hark, Frailty.

Frail.

What, more yet?

Edm.

Have the maids remember'd to strew the way to the church?

Frail.

Foh! an hour ago; I help'd them myself.

Edm.

Away, away, away, away then.

Frail.

Away, away, away, away then.

[Exit Frailty.

Edm.

I shall have a simple father-in-law, a brave captain, able to beat all our street; captain Idle. Now my lady mother will be fitted for a delicate name: my lady Idle, my lady Idle! the finest name that can be for a woman: and then the scholar, master Pyeboard, for my sister Frances, that will be mistress Frances Pyeboard; mistress Frances Pyeboard! they'll keep a good table, I warrant you.

-- 619 --

Now all the knights' noses are put out of joint; they may go to a bone-setter's now.

Enter Idle and Pyeboard, with attendants.

Hark, hark! O, who come here with two torches before them? My sweet captain, and my fine scholar. O, how bravely they are shot up in one night! They look like fine Britons* note now methinks. Here's a gallant change i'faith! 'Slid, they have hir'd men and all, by the clock3 note.

Idle.

Master Edmond; kind, honest, dainty master Edmond.

Edm.

Foh, sweet captain father-in-law! A rare perfume i'faith!

Pye.

What, are the brides stirring? May we steal upon them, think'st thou, master Edmond?

Edm.

Foh, they're e'en upon readiness, I can assure you; for they were at their torch e'en now: by the same token I tumbled down the stairs.

Pye.

Alas, poor master Edmond.

Enter Musicians.

Idle.

O, the musicians! I pr'ythee, master Edmond, call them, and liquor them a little.

Edm.

That I will, sweet captain father-in-law; and make each of them as drunk as a common fidler.

[Exeunt.

-- 620 --

SCENE II. The same. Enter Mary in a balcony4 note. To her below, Sir John Pennydub.

Sir John.

Whew! mistress Moll, mistress Moll.

Mary.

Who's there?

Sir John.

'Tis I.

Mary.

Who? sir John Pennydub? O you're an early cock i'faith. Who would have thought you to be so rare a stirrer?

Sir John.

Pr'ythee, Moll, let me come up.

Mary.

No by my faith, sir John; I'll keep you down; for you knights are very dangerous, if once you get above.

Sir John.

I'll not stay i'faith.

Mary.

I'faith you shall stay; for, sir John, you must note the nature of the climates: your northern wench in her own country may well hold out till she be fifteen; but if she touch the south once, and come up to London, here the chimes go presently after twelve.

Sir John.

O thou'rt a mad wench, Moll: but I pr'ythee make haste, for the priest is gone before.

Mary.

Do you follow him; I'll not be long after.

[Exeunt.

-- 621 --

SCENE III. A room in Sir Oliver Muckhill's house. Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and Skirmish.

Sir Oliv.

O monstrous, unheardof forgery!

Sir And.

Knight, I never heard of such villainy in our own country, in my life.

Sir Oliv.

Why, 'tis impossible. Dare you maintain your words?

Skir.

Dare we? even to their weazon pipes. We know all their plots; they cannot squander with us. They have knavishly abus'd us, made only properties of us, to advance theirselves upon our shoulders; but they shall rue their abuses. This morning they are to be married.

Sir Oliv.

'Tis too true. Yet if the widow be not too much besotted on sleights and forgeries, the revelation of their villainies will make them loathsome. And to that end, be it in private to you, I sent late last night to an honourable personage, to whom I am much indebted in kindness, as he is to me; and therefore presume upon the payment of his tongue, and that he will lay out good words for me: and to speak truth, for such needful occasions I only preserve him in bond: and sometimes he may do me more good here in the city by a free word of his mouth, than if he had paid one half in hand, and took doomsday for t'other.

Sir And.

In troth, sir, without soothing be it spoken, you have publish'd much judgment in these few words.

Sir Oliv.

For you know, what such a man utters

-- 622 --

will be thought effectual5 note
, and to weighty purpose;
and therefore into his mouth we'll put the approved theme of their forgeries.

Skir.

And I'll maintain it, knight, if she'll be true* note.

Enter a Servant.

Sir Oliv.

How now, fellow?

Ser.

May it please you, sir, my lord is newly lighted from his coach.

Sir Oliv.
Is my lord come already? His honour's early6 note.
You see he loves me well. Up before seven!
Trust me, I have found him night-capp'd at eleven.
There's good hope yet: come, I'll relate all to him.
[Exeunt. SCENE IV. A street; a church appearing. Enter Idle, Pyeboard, Sir Godfrey, and Edmond; the Widow in a bridal dress; Sir John Pennydub, Mary and Frances; Nicholas, Frailty, and other attendants. To them a Nobleman, Sir Oliver Muckhill, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff.

Nob.

By your leave, lady.

Wid.

My lord, your honour is most chastly welcome.

-- 623 --

Nob.

Madam, though I came now from court, I come not to flatter you. Upon whom can I justly cast this blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not ink from milk? such is the blind besotting in the state of an unheaded woman that's a widow. For it is the property of all you that are widows (a handful excepted) to hate those that honestly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit, state, and posterity; and strongly to dote on those that only love you to undo you. Who regard you least, are best regarded; who hate you most, are best beloved. And if there be but one man amongst ten thousand millions of men, that is accurst, disastrous, and evilly planeted; whom Fortune beats most, whom God hates most, and all societies esteem least, that man is sure to be a husband. Such is the peevish moon that rules your bloods7 note


. An impudent fellow best wooes you, a flattering lip best wins you; or in a mirth, who talks roughliest, is most sweetest: nor can you distinguish truth from forgeries, mists from simplicity; witness those two deceitful monsters, that you have entertain'd for bridegrooms.

Wid.

Deceitful!

Pye.

All will out.

Idle.

'Sfoot, who has blab'd, George? that foolish Nicholas.

Nob.

For what they have besotted your easy blood withal, were nought but forgeries: the fortune-telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain sir Godfrey heard the falshood of, all, nothing but mere knavery, deceit, and cozenage.

Wid.

O wonderful! indeed I wonder'd that my husband, with all his craft, could not keep himself out of purgatory.

-- 624 --

Sir God.

And I more wonder'd, that my chain should be gone, and my taylor had none of it.

Mary.

And I wonder'd most of all, that I should be tied from marriage, having such a mind to it. Come, sir John Pennydub, fair weather on our side: The moon has chang'd since yesternight.

Pye.

The sting of every evil is within me.

Nob.

And that you may perceive I feign not with you, behold their fellow-actor in those forgeries; who full of spleen and envy at their so sudden advancements, reveal'd all their plot in anger.

Pye.

Base soldier, to reveal us!

Wid.

Is't possible we should be blinded so, and our eyes open?

Nob.

Widow, will you now believe that false which too soon you believ'd true?

Wid.

O, to my shame, I do.

Sir God.

But under favour, my lord, my chain was truly lost, and strangely found again.

Nob.

Resolve him of that, soldier.

Skir.

In few words, knight, then thou wert the arch-gull of all.

Sir God.

How, sir?

Skir.

Nay I'll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary-bank all this while; and thou got'st him out of prison to conjure for it, who did it admirably, fustianly; for indeed what needed any other, when he knew where it was?

Sir God.

O villainy of villainies! But how came my chain there?

Skir.

Where's Truly la, Indeed la, he that will not swear, but lie; he that will not steal, but rob; pure Nicholas Saint-Antlings?

Sir God.
O villain! one of our society,
Deem'd always holy, pure, religious,
A puritan a thief! When was't ever heard?
Sooner we'll kill a man, than steal, thou know'st.

-- 625 --


Out slave! I'll rend my lion from thy back8 note











,
With mine own hands.

Nich.

Dear master! O!

Nob.

Nay knight, dwell in patience. And now,

-- 626 --

widow, being so near the church, 'twere great pity, nay uncharity, to send you home again without a husband. Draw nearer, you of true worship, state, and credit; that should not stand so far off from a widow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you. Not that in these I blemish the true title of a captain, or blot the fair margent of a scholar; for I honour worthy and deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitful virtues in the other. Come lady, and you virgin, bestow your eyes and your purest affections upon men of estimation both in court and city, that have long wooed you, and both with their hearts and wealth sincerely love you.

Sir God.

Good sister, do. Sweet little Franke, these are men of reputation: you shall be welcome at court; a great credit for a citizen.—Sweet sister.

Nob.

Come, her silence does consent to't.

Wid.

I know not with what face—

Nob.

Poh, poh, with your own face; they desire no other.

Wid.

Pardon me, worthy sirs: I and my daughter Have wrong'd your loves.

Sir Oliv.

'Tis easily pardon'd, lady, if you vouchsafe it now.

Wid.

With all my soul.

Fran.

And I, with all my heart.

Mary.

And I, sir John, with soul, heart, lights and all.

Sir John.

They are all mine, Moll.

Nob.
Now lady:
What honest spirit, but will applaud your choice,
And gladly furnish you with hand and voice?
A happy change, which makes even heaven rejoice.
Come, enter into your joys; you shall not want9 note




-- 627 --


For fathers, now; I doubt it not, believe me,
But that you shall have hands enough to give ye1. [Exeunt omnes. 1But that you shall have hands enough to give.]

Thus the quarto. The editor of the folio, finding something deficient, added me at the end of the line. But the context clearly shows that the omitted word was ye.

At the end of this comedy in the original edition is placed the following scrap of Latin:


Deus dedit his quoque finem.

The dialogue of the Puritan is in general more lively than many of the dramatick pieces produced at the same time; and some parts of it are, I think, not without humour. Malone.

This sentence of Latin is likewise found at the end of Leicester's Commonwealth, as well as at the conclusions of many other ancient books. It was more probably introduced by printers than by authors.

Though Shakspeare has ridiculed the Puritans in his All's Well that Ends well, and Twelfth Night, yet he seems not to have had the smallest share in the present comedy. The author of it, however, was well acquainted with his plays, as appears from resemblances already pointed out. There is little attempt at character throughout the piece, and that little has not proved very successful. The suitors are an unmeaning group; and though we have eight of the sanctimonious tribe on the stage, they are by no means nicely discriminated from each other. Nicholas St. Antlings indeed might have been designed for their chief, as he possesses most of their qualities, i. e. is the greatest hypocrite of them all.—I have not met with the old ballad from which our comedy receives its title; but am told that the second of these performances has no other obligation to the first. Steevens.

-- 629 --

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Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
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