Act 5 — [Scene III.][3160]
Reading edition
[Scene III.][3160]
Enter Merrythought.
Mer. Yet, I thank God. I break not a wrinkle more than I had. Not a stoop,[3161] boys? Care, live with cats; I defy thee! My heart is as sound as an oak; and though I want drink to wet my whistle, I can sing;5
[Sings.]
Come no more there, boys, come no more there; For we shall never whilst we live come any more there.
Enter Boy, [and two Men] with a Coffin.
Boy. God save you, sir!
Mer. It’s a brave boy. Canst thou sing?
Boy. Yes, sir, I can sing; but ’t is not so 10 necessary at this time.
Mer. [sings.]
Sing we, and chant it; Whilst love doth grant it.
Boy. Sir, sir, if you knew what I have brought you, you would have little list to 15 sing.
Mer. [sings.]
Oh, the Mimon round, Full long, long I have thee sought, And now I have thee found, And what hast thou here brought?20
Boy. A coffin, sir, and your dead son Jasper in it.
[Exit with Men.]
Mer. Dead!
[Sings.]
Why, farewell he! Thou wast a bonny boy,25 And I did love thee.
Enter Jasper.
Jasp. Then, I pray you, sir, do so still.
Mer. Jasper’s ghost!
[Sings.]
Thou art welcome from Stygian lake so soon; Declare to me what wondrous things in Pluto’s court are done.30
Jasp. By my troth, sir, I ne’er came there; ’t is too hot for me, sir.
Mer. A merry ghost, a very merry ghost!
[Sings.]
And where is your true love? Oh, where is yours?
Jasp. Marry, look you, sir!35
Heaves up coffin.
Mer. Ah, ha! art thou good at that, i’ faith?
[Sings.]
With hey, trixy, terlery-whiskin, The world it runs on wheels: When the young man’s——-,[3162] Up goes the maiden’s heels.40
Mrs. Merrythought and Michael within.
Mist. Mer. [within.] What, Master Merrythought! will you not let ’s in? What do you think shall become of us?
Mer. [Sings.]
What voice is that, that calleth at our door.
Mist. Mer. [within.] You know me well 45 enough; I am sure I have not been such a stranger to you.
Mer. [sings.]
And some they whistled, and some they sung, Hey, down, down! And some did loudly say,50 Ever as the Lord Barnet’s born blew, Away, Musgrave, away!
Mist. Mer. [within.] You will not have us starve here, will you, Master Merrythought?
Jasp. Nay, good sir, be persuaded; she is my mother.55 If her offences have been great against you, Let your own love remember she is yours, And so forgive her. Luce. Good Master Merrythought, Let me entreat you; I will not be denied.
Mist. Mer. [within.] Why, Master Merrythought, 60 will you be a vext thing still?
Mer. Woman, I take you to my love again; but you shall sing before you enter; therefore despatch your song and so come in.
Mist. Mer. [within.] Well, you must have 65 your will, when all’s done.—Mick, what song canst thou sing, boy?
Mich. [within.] I can sing none, forsooth, but A Lady’s Daughter, of Paris properly.
Mist. Mer. [Song.]
It was a lady’s daughter, &c.70
[Merrythought opens the Door; enter Mistress Merrythought and Michael.]
Mer. Come, you’re welcome home again.
[Sings.]
If such danger be in playing, And jest must to earnest turn, You shall go no more a-maying—
Vent. (within.) Are you within, sir? Master 75 Merrythought!
Jasp. It is my master’s voice! Good sir, go hold him In talk, whilst we convey ourselves into Some inward room. [Exit with Luce.] Mer. What are you? Are you merry? You must be very merry, if you enter.80
Vent. [within.] I am, sir.
Mer. Sing, then.
Vent. [within.] Nay, good sir, open to me.
Mer. Sing, I say, or, by the merry heart, you come not in! 85
Vent. [within.] Well, sir, I’ll sing. [Sings.]
Fortune, my foe, &c.
[Merrythought opens the Door: Enter Venturewell.]
Mer. You are welcome, sir, you are welcome: you see your entertainment; pray you, be merry. 90
Vent. Oh, Master Merrythought, I’m come to ask you Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you And your most virtuous son! They’re infinite; Yet my contrition shall be more than they: I do confess my hardness broke his heart,95 For which just Heaven hath given me punishment More than my age can carry. His wand’ring spirit, Not yet at rest, pursues me every where, Crying, “I’ll haunt thee for thy cruelty.” My daughter, she is gone, I know not how,100 Taken invisible, and whether living Or in [the] grave, ’tis yet uncertain to me. Oh, Master Merrythought, these are the weights Will sink me to my grave! Forgive me, sir. Mer. Why, sir, I do forgive you; and be merry,105 And if the wag in ’s lifetime play’d the knave, Can you forgive him too? Vent. With all my heart, sir. Mer. Speak it again, and heartly. Vent. I do, sir; Now, by my soul, I do.
Re-enter Luce and Jasper.
Mer. [sings.]
With that came out his paramour;110 She was as white as the lily flower; Hey, troul, troly, jolly! With that came out her own dear knight, He was as true as ever did fight, &c.
Sir, if you will forgive him, clap their hands 115 together; there’s no more to be said i’ th’ matter.
Vent. I do, I do.
Cit. I do not like this. Peace, boys! Hear me, one of you! Every body’s part is come to an end but Ralph’s, and he’s left out. 121
Boy. ’Tis ’long of yourself, sir; we have nothing to do with his part.
Cit. Ralph, come away!—Make [an end][3163] on him, as you have done of the rest, boys; come. 126
Wife. Now, good husband, let him come out and die.
Cit. He shall, Nell.—Ralph, come away quickly, and die, boy! 130
Boy. ’T will be very unfit he should die, sir, upon no occasion—and in a comedy too.
Cit. Take you no care of that, sir boy; is not his part at an end, think you, when he’s dead?—Come away, Ralph! 135
Enter Ralph, with a forked Arrow through his Head.
Ralph. When I was mortal, this my costive corps Did lap up figs and raisins in the Strand; Where sitting, I espi’d a lovely dame, Whose master wrought with lingel[3164] and with awl, And underground he vamped many a hoot,140 Straight did her love prick forth me, tender sprig, To follow feats of arms in warlike wise Through Waltham-desert; where I did perform Many achievements, and did lay on ground Huge Barbaroso, that insulting giant,145 And all his captives soon set at liberty. Then honour prickt me from my native soil Into Moldavia, where I gain’d the love Of Pompiona, his beloved daughter; But yet prov’d constant to the black thumb’d maid150 Susan, and scorned Pompiona’s love; Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins, And money for her father’s officers. I then returned home, and thrust myself In action, and by all men chosen was155 Lord of the May, where I did flourish it, With scarfs and rings, and posy in my hand. After this action I preferred was, And chosen city-captain at Mile-End,159 With hat and feather, and with leading-staff,[3165] And train’d my men, and brought them all off clear, Save one man that beray’d him[3166] with the noise. But all these things I Ralph did undertake Only for my beloved Susan’s sake. Then coming home, and sitting in my shop165 With apron blue, Death came into my stall To cheapen[3167] aqua vitae; but ere I Could take the bottle down and fill a taste, Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand, And sprinkled all my face and body o’er,170 And in an instant vanished away.
Cit. ’T is a pretty fiction, i’ faith.
Ralph. Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand, And walkt into Moorfields to cool myself; But there grim cruel Death met me again,175 And shot this forked arrow through my head; And now I faint; therefore be warn’d by me, My fellows every one, of forked heads! Farewell, all you good boys in merry London! Ne’er shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet,180 And pluck down houses of iniquity;[3168]— My pain increaseth—I shall never more Hold open, whilst another pumps both legs, Nor daub a satin gown with rotten eggs, Set up a stake, oh, never more I shall!185 I die! fly, fly, my soul, to Grocers’ Hall! Oh, oh, oh, &c.[3169]
Wife. Well said, Ralph! do your obeisance to the gentlemen, and go your ways: well said, Ralph!
Ralph [rises, makes obeisance and] exit.190
Mer. Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly reconciled, should not depart[3170] without a song.
Vent. A good motion.
Mer. Strike up, then!195
Song.
Better music ne’er was known Than a choir of hearts in one. Let each other, that hath been Troubled with the gall or spleen, Learn of us to keep his brow200 Smooth and plain, as ours are now: Sing, though before the hour of dying; He shall rise, and then be crying, “Hey, ho, ’t is nought but mirth That keeps the body from the earth!” 205 Exeunt.
Epilogus.
Cit. Come, Nell, shall we go? The play ’s done.
Wife. Nay, by my faith, George, I have more manners than so; I ’ll speak to these gentlemen first.—I thank you all, gentlemen, for210 your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor fatherless child; and if I might see you at my house, it should go hard but I would have a pottle of wine and a pipe of tobacco for you: for, truly, I hope you do like the youth, but215 I would be glad to know the truth; I refer it to your own discretions, whether you will applaud him or no; for I will wink, and whilst[3171] you shall do what you will. I thank you with all my heart. God give you good night!—Come,220 George.
[Exeunt.]