Act 3 — THE MALCONTENT

BY JOHN MARSTON

BENIAMINO JONSONIO, POETAE ELEGANTISSIMO, GRAVISSIMO, AMICO SVO, CANDIDO ET CORDATO, IOHANNES MARSTON, MVSARVM ALVMNVS, ASPERAM HANC SVAM THALIAM D.D.

[Members of the Company of His Majesty’s Servants appearing in the Induction

W. Sly. D. Burbadge. J. Lowin.

Sinklo. H. Condell. A Tire-man.]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Giovanni Altofronto, disguised as Malevole, sometime Duke of Genoa.

Pietro Jacomo, Duke of Genoa.

Mendoza, a minion to the Duchess of Pietro Jacomo.

Celso, a friend to Altofronto.

Bilioso, an old choleric marshal.

Prepasso, a gentleman-usher.

Ferneze, a young courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess.

Ferrardo, a minion to Duke Pietro Jacomo.

Equato,} two courtiers.

Guerrino,

Passarello, fool to Biliosa.

Aurelia, Duchess to Duke Pietro Jacomo.

Maria, Duchess to Duke Altofronto.

Emilia, } two ladies attending on Aurelia.

Bianca,

Maquerelle, an old panderess.

[The Scene.—Genoa.]

TO THE READER

I am an ill orator; and, in truth, use to indite more honestly than eloquently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I speak.

In plainness, therefore, understand that in some things I have willingly erred, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names different from that city’s families: for which some may wittily accuse me: but my defence shall be as honest as many reproofs unto me have been most malicious; since, I heartily protest, it was my care to write so far from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I laid my scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or living. Yet, in despite of my endeavours, I understand some have been most unadvisedly over-cunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtlety as deep as hell have maliciously spread ill rumours, which, springing from themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I desire to satisfy every firm spirit, who, in all his actions, proposeth to himself no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are always simple: to such I protest that, with my free understanding, I have not glanced at disgrace of any, but of those whose unquiet studies labour innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend, comely superiority, and establisht unity: for the rest of my supposed tartness, I fear not but unto every worthy mind it will be approved so general and honest as may modestly pass with the freedom of a satire. I would fain leave the paper; only one thing afflicts me, to think that scenes, invented merely to be spoken, should be enforcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive is to do myself the wrong. But, since others otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. I have myself, therefore, set forth this comedy; but so, that my enforced absence must much rely upon the printer’s discretion: but I shall entreat slight errors in orthography may be as slightly over-passed, and that the unhandsome shape which this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned for the pleasure it once afforded you when it was presented with the soul of lively action.

Sine aliqua dementia nullus Phoebus.[2610]

[THE INDUCTION[2611] TO THE MALCONTENT, AND THE ADDITIONS[2612] ACTED BY THE KING’S MAJESTY’S SERVANTS.

WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER

Enter W. Sly, a Tire-man following him with a stool.

Tire-man. Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit here.

Sly. Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private house. Thou dost not take me for a country gentleman, dost? Dost think I fear5 hissing? I’ll hold my life thou tookest me for one of the players.

Tire-man. No, sir.

Sly. By God’s slid,[2613] if you had, I would have given you but sixpence for your stool. Let10 them that have stale suits sit in the galleries. Hiss at me! He that will be laught out of a tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed well, or be drunk in good company.—Where’s Harry Condell, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly?15 Let me speak with some of them.

Tire-man. An’t please you to go in, sir, you may.

Sly. I tell you, no: I am one that hath seen this play often, and can give them intelligence20 for their action. I have most of the jests here in my table-book.[2614]

Enter Sinklo.

Sinklo. Save you coz!

Sly. O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs here.25

Sinklo. No, indeed, cousin: the audience then will take me for a viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me.

Sly. Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz.

Sinklo. We stayed for you at supper last30 night at my cousin Honeymoon’s, the woollen-draper. After supper we drew cuts for a score of apricocks, the longest cut still to draw an apricock: by this light, ’t was Mistress Frank Honeymoon’s fortune still to have the longest35 cut: I did measure for the women.—What be these, coz?

Enter D. Burbadge, H. Condell, and J. Lowin.

Sly. The players.—God save you!

Burbadge. You are very welcome.

Sly. I pray you, know this gentleman, my40 cousin; ’t is Master Doomsday’s son, the usurer.

Condell. I beseech you, sir, be cover’d.

Sly. No, in good faith, for mine ease. Look you, my hat’s the handle to this fan. God’s45 so, what a beast was I, I did not leave my feather at home! Well, but I’ll take an order with you.

Puts his feather in his pocket.

Burbadge. Why do you conceal your feather, sir?50

Sly. Why, do you think I’ll have jests broken upon me in the play, to be laught at? This play hath beaten all your gallants out of the feathers. Blackfriars hath almost spoiled Blackfriars for feathers.[2615]55

Sinklo. God’s so, I thought ’t was for somewhat our gentlewomen at home counsell’d me to wear my feather to the play: yet I am loth to spoil it.

Sly. Why, coz?60

Sinklo. Because I got it in the tilt-yard; there was a herald broke my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up and down the Strand, and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it.65

Sly. Do you hear, sir? this play is a bitter play.

Condell. Why, sir, ’t is neither satire nor moral, but the mean passage of a history: yet there are a sort of discontented creatures that70 bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest the doings of any man to their base, malicious applyment;[2616] but should their interpretation come to the test, like your marmoset, they presently turn their teeth to their tail75 and eat it.

Sly. I will not go so far with you; but I say, any man that hath wit may censure,[2617] if he sit in the twelve-penny room;[2618] and I say again, the play is bitter.80

Burbadge. Sir, you are like a patron that, presenting a poor scholar to a benefice, enjoins him not to rail against anything that stands within compass of his patron’s folly. Why should not we enjoy the ancient freedom of poesy?85 Shall we protest to the ladies that their painting makes them angels? or to my young gallant that his expense in the brothel shall gain him reputation? No, sir, such vices as stand not accountable to law should be cured as90 men heal tetters,[2619] by casting ink upon them. Would you be satisfied in anything else, sir?

Sly. Ay, marry, would I: I would know how you came by this play?

Condell. Faith, sir, the book was lost; and95 because ’t was pity so good a play should be lost, we found it, and play it.

Sly. I wonder you would play it, another company having interest in it.

Condell. Why not Malevole in folio with100 us, as Jeronimo in decimo-sexto with them?[2620] They taught us a name for our play; we call it One For Another.

Sly. What are your additions?

Burbadge. Sooth, not greatly needful; only105 as your salad to your great feast, to entertain a little more time, and to abridge the not-received custom of music in our theatre. I must leave you, sir.

Exit.

Sinklo. Doth he play the Malcontent?110

Condell. Yes, sir.

Sinklo. I durst lay four of mine ears the play is not so well acted as it hath been.

Condell. O, no, sir, nothing ad Parmenonis suem.[2621]115

Lowin. Have you lost your ears, sir, that you are so prodigal of laying them?

Sinklo. Why did you ask that, friend?

Lowin. Marry, sir, because I have heard of a fellow would offer to lay a hundred-pound120 wager, that was not worth five baubees:[2622] and in this kind you might venture four of your elbows; yet God defend[2623] your coat should have so many!

Sinklo. Nay, truly, I am no great censurer;[2624]125 and yet I might have been one of the college of critics once. My cousin here hath an excellent memory, indeed, sir.

Sly. Who? I? I’ll tell you a strange thing of myself; and I can tell you, for one that130 never studied the art of memory, ’t is very strange too.

Condell. What’s that, sir?

Sly. Why, I’ll lay a hundred pound, I’ll walk but once down by the Goldsmith’s135 Row in Cheap, take notice of the signs, and tell you them with a breath instantly.

Lowin. ’T is very strange.

Sly. They begin as the world did, with Adam and Eve. There’s in all just five and fifty.140 I do use to meditate much when I come to plays too. What do you think might come into a man’s head now, seeing all this company?

Condell. I know not, sir.

Sly. I have an excellent thought. If some145 fifty of the Grecians that were cramm’d in the horse’ belly had eaten garlic, do you not think the Trojans might have smelt out their knavery?

Condell. Very likely.

Sly. By God, I would [they] had, for I150 love Hector horribly.

Sly. Alexander was an ass to speak so well155 of a filthy cullion.[2626]

Lowin. Good sir, will you leave the stage? I’ll help you to a private room.

Sly. Come, coz, let’s take some tobacco.— Have you never a prologue?160

Lowin. Not any, sir.

Sly. Let me see, I will make one extempore.

Come to them, and fencing of a congee[2627] with arms and legs, be round with them.

Gentlemen, I could wish for the women’s sakes you had all soft cushions; and gentlewomen, I could wish that for the men’s sakes you165 had all more easy standings.

What would they wish more but the play now? and that they shall have instantly.

[Exeunt.]]