ACT V.

SCENE I.

Gertrude’s lodging.

Enter Gertrude and Sindefy.

Ge. Ah, Sin! hast thou ever read i’ the chronicle of any lady and her waiting-woman driven to that extremity that we are, Sin?

Si. Not I, truly, madam; and if I had, it were but cold comfort should come out of books now.

Ge. Why, good faith, Sin, I could dine with a lamentable story, now. O[99] hone, hone, o no nera! &c. Canst thou tell ne’er a one, Sin?

Si. None but mine own, madam, which is lamentable enough: first to be stolen from my friends, which were worshipful and of good accompt, by a prentice, in the habit and disguise of a gentleman, and here brought up to London, and promised marriage, and now likely to be forsaken, for he is in possibility to be hanged! 14

Ge. Nay, weep not, good Sin; my Petronel is in as good possibility as he. Thy miseries are nothing to mine, Sin; I was more than promised marriage, Sin; I had it, Sin; and was made a lady; and by a knight, Sin; which is now as good as no knight, Sin. And I was born in London, which is more than brought up, Sin; and already forsaken, which is past likelihood, Sin; and instead of land i’ the country, all my knight’s living lies i’ the Counter, Sin; there’s his castle now! 24

Si. Which he cannot be forced out of, madam.

Ge. Yes, if he would live hungry a week or two. “Hunger,” they say, “breaks stone walls.” But he is e’en well enough served, Sin, that so soon as ever he had got my hand to the sale of my inheritance, run away from me, and I had been his punk, God bless us! Would the Knight o’ the Sun,[100] or Palmerin of England, have used their ladies so, Sin? or Sir Lancelot? or Sir Tristram?

Si. I do not know, madam. 34

Ge. Then thou know’st nothing, Sin. Thou art a fool, Sin. The knighthood nowadays are nothing like the knighthood of old time. They rid a-horseback; ours go a-foot. They were attended by their squires; ours by their lackeys. They went buckled in their armour; ours muffled in their cloaks. They travelled wildernesses and deserts; ours dare scarce walk the streets. They were still pressed to engage their honour; ours still ready to pawn their clothes. They would gallop on at sight of a monster; ours run away at sight of a sergeant. They would help poor ladies; ours make poor ladies.

Si. Ay, madam, they were knights of the Round Table at Winchester, that sought adventures; but these of the Square Table at ordinaries, that sit at hazard.[101] 48

Ge. True,[102] Sin, let him vanish. And tell me, what shall we pawn next?

Si. Ay, marry, madam, a timely consideration; for our hostess (profane woman!) has sworn by bread and salt she will not trust us another meal.

Ge. Let it stink in her hand then. I’ll not be beholding to her. Let me see, my jewels be gone, and my gowns, and my red velvet petticoat that I was married in, and my wedding silk stockings, and all thy best apparel, poor Sin! Good faith, rather than thou shouldst pawn a rag more, I’d lay my ladyship in lavender[103]—if I knew where. 60

Si. Alas, madam, your ladyship!

Ge. Ay,—why?—you do not scorn my ladyship, though it is in a waistcoat? God’s my life! you are a peat[104] indeed! Do I offer to mortgage my ladyship for you and for your avail, and do you turn the lip and the alas to my ladyship?

Si. No, madam; but I make question who will lend anything upon it? 68

Ge. Who?—marry, enow, I warrant you, if you’ll seek ’hem out. I’m sure I remember the time when I would ha’ given one thousand pounds (if I had had it) to have been a lady; and I hope I was not bred and born with that appetite alone: some other gentle-born o’ the city have the same longing, I trust. And for my part, I would afford ’hem a penn’orth; my ladyship is little the worse for the wearing, and yet I would bate a good deal of the sum. I would lend it (let me see) for forty pound in hand, Sin; that would apparel us; and ten pound a year, that would keep me and you, Sin (with our needles); and we should never need to be beholding to our scurvy parents. Good Lord! that there are no fairies nowadays, Sin! 82

Si. Why, madam?

Ge. To do miracles, and bring ladies money. Sure, if we lay in a cleanly house, they would haunt it, Sin. I’ll try. I’ll sweep the chamber soon at night, and set a dish of water o’ the hearth. A fairy may come, and bring a pearl or a diamond. We do not know, Sin. Or, there may be a pot of gold hid o’ the backside,[105] if we had tools to dig for’t? Why may not we two rise early i’ the morning, Sin, afore anybody is up, and find a jewel i’ the streets worth a hundred pound? May not some great court-lady, as she comes from revels at midnight, look out of her coach as ’tis running, and lose such a jewel, and we find it? Ha? 95

Si. They are pretty waking dreams, these.

Ge. Or may not some old usurer be drunk overnight, with a bag of money, and leave it behind him on a stall? For God’s sake, Sin, let’s rise to-morrow by break of day, and see. I protest, law, if I had as much money as an alderman, I would scatter some on’t i’ th’ streets for poor ladies to find, when their knights were laid up. And, now I remember my song o’ the Golden Shower, why may not I have such a fortune? I’ll sing it, and try what luck I shall have after it. 105

“Fond fables tell of old, How Jove in Danäe’s lap Fell in a shower of gold, By which she caught a clap; O had it been my hap 110 (How ere the blow doth threaten), So well I like the play, That I could wish all day And night to be so beaten.”

Enter Mistress Touchstone.

O here’s my mother! good luck, I hope. Ha’ you brought any money, mother? Pray you, mother, your blessing. Nay, sweet mother, do not weep.

Mist. T. God bless you! I would I were in my grave! 119

Ge. Nay, dear mother, can you steal no more money from my father? Dry your eyes, and comfort me. Alas! it is my knight’s fault, and not mine, that I am in a waistcoat, and attired thus simply.

Mist. T. Simply, ’tis better than thou deservest. Never whimper for the matter. Thou shouldst have looked before thou hadst leapt. Thou wert afire to be a lady, and now your ladyship and you may both blow at the coal, for aught I know. Self do, self have. The hasty person never wants woe, they say. 129

Ge. Nay, then, mother, you should ha’ looked to it. A body would think you were the older; I did but my kind, I. He was a knight, and I was fit to be a lady. ’Tis not lack of liking, but lack of living, that severs us. And you talk like yourself and a cittiner in this, i’faith. You show what husband you come on, I wis. You smell the Touchstone—he that will do more for his daughter, that he has married [to] a scurvy gold-end man[106] and his prentice, than he will for his t’other daughter, that has wedded a knight and his customer. By this light, I think he is not my legitimate father. 140

Si. O, good madam, do not take up your mother so!

Mist. T. Nay, nay, let her e’en alone. Let her ladyship grieve me still, with her bitter taunts and terms. I have not dole enough to see her in this miserable case, I—without her velvet gowns, without ribands, without jewels, without French-wires, or cheat-bread,[107] or quails, or a little dog, or a gentleman-usher, or anything, indeed, that’s fit for a lady——

Si. Except her tongue. 149

Mist. T. And I not able to relieve her, neither, being kept so short by my husband. Well, God knows my heart; I did little think that ever she should have had need of her sister Golding.

Ge. Why, mother, I ha’ not yet. Alas! good mother, be not intoxicate for me; I am well enough; I would not change husbands with my sister, I. The[108] leg of a lark is better than the body of a kite.

Mist. T. I know that: but——

Ge. What, sweet mother, what?

Mist. T. It’s but ill food when nothing’s left but the claw. 161

Ge. That’s true, mother. Ay me!

Mist. T. Nay, sweet lady-bird,[109] sigh not. Child, madam—why do you weep thus? Be of good cheer; I shall die if you cry, and mar your complexion thus.

Ge. Alas, mother, what should I do?

Mist. T. Go to thy sister’s, child; she’ll be proud thy ladyship will come under her roof. She’ll win thy father to release thy knight, and redeem thy gowns, and thy coach and thy horses, and set thee up again. 170

Ge. But will she get him to set my knight up too?

Mist. T. That she will, or anything else thou’lt ask her.

Ge. I will begin to love her if I thought she would do this.

Mist. T. Try her, good chuck,[110] I warrant thee.

Ge. Dost thou think she’ll do’t?

Si. Ay, madam, and be glad you will receive it.

Mist. T. That’s a good maiden; she tells you true. Come, I’ll take order for your debts i’ the alehouse. 180

Ge. Go, Sin, and pray for thy Frank, as I will for my Pet.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Goldsmiths’ Row.

Enter Touchstone, Golding, Wolf.

To. I will receive no letters, Master Wolf; you shall pardon me.

Go. Good father, let me entreat you.

To. Son Golding, I will not be tempted; I find mine own easy nature, and I know not what a well-penned subtle letter may work upon it; there may be tricks, packing, do you see? Return with your packet, sir.

Wo. Believe it, sir, you need fear no packing here; these are but letters of submission all.

To. Sir, I do look for no submission. I will bear myself in this like blind Justice. Work upon that now. When the sessions come they shall hear from me. 12

Go. From whom come your letters, Master Wolf?

Wo. And’t please you, sir, one from Sir Petronel, another from Francis Quicksilver, and a third from old Security, who is almost mad in prison. There are two to your worship; one from Master Francis, sir, another from the knight.

To. I do wonder, Master Wolf, why you should travail thus, in a business so contrary to kind, or the nature o’ your place: that you, being the keeper of a prison, should labour the release of your prisoners; whereas, methinks, it were far more natural and kindly in you to be ranging about for more, and not let these ’scape you have already under the tooth. But they say you Wolves, when you ha’ sucked the blood, once that they are dry, you ha’ done. 27

Wo. Sir, your worship may descant as you please o’ my name; but I protest I was never so mortified with any men’s discourse or behaviour in prison; yet I have had of all sorts of men i’ the kingdom under my keys; and almost of all religions i’ the land, as Papist, Protestant, Puritan, Brownist, Anabaptist, Millenary, Family-o’-Love, Jew, Turk, Infidel, Atheist, Good-Fellow, &c.

Go. And which of all these, thinks Master Wolf, was the best religion? 37

Wo. Troth, Master Deputy, they that pay fees best: we never examine their consciences farther.

Go. I believe you, Master Wolf. Good faith, sir, here’s a great deal of humility i’ these letters.

Wo. Humility, sir? Ay, were your worship an eyewitness of it you would say so. The knight will i’ the Knight’s Ward,[111] do what we can, sir; and Master Quicksilver would be i’ the Hole if we would let him. I never knew or saw prisoners more penitent, or more devout. They will sit you up all night singing of psalms and edifying the whole prison; only Security sings a note too high sometimes, because he lies i’ the Twopenny Ward, far off, and cannot take his tune. The neighbours cannot rest for him, but come every morning to ask what godly prisoners we have. 52

To. Which on ’hem is’t is so devout—the knight or the t’other?

Wo. Both, sir; but the young man especially. I never heard his like. He has cut his hair too. He is so well given, and has such good gifts, he can tell you almost all the stories of the Book of Martyrs, and speak you all the Sick Man’s Salve[112] without book.

To. Ay, if he had had grace—he was brought up where it grew, I wis. On, Master Wolf. 61

Wo. And he has converted one Fangs, a sergeant, a fellow could neither write nor read; he was called the Bandog o’ the Counter; and he has brought him already to pare his nails and say his prayers; and ’tis hoped he will sell his place shortly, and become an intelligencer.

To. No more; I am coming already. If I should give any farther care I were taken. Adieu, good Master Wolf. Son, I do feel mine own weaknesses; do not importune me. Pity is a rheum that I am subject to; but I will resist it. Master Wolf, fish is cast away that is cast in dry pools. Tell hypocrisy it will not do; I have touched and tried too often; I am yet proof, and I will remain so; when the sessions come they shall hear from me. In the meantime, to all suits, to all entreaties, to all letters, to all tricks, I will be deaf as an adder, and blind as a beetle, lay mine ear to the ground, and lock mine eyes i’ my hand, against all temptations. 78

[Exit.

Go. You see, Master Wolf, how inexorable he is. There is no hope to recover him. Pray you commend me to my brother knight, and to my fellow Francis; present ’hem with this small token of my love; tell ’hem, I wish I could do ’hem any worthier office; but in this, ’tis desperate: yet I will not fail to try the uttermost of my power for ’hem. And, sir, as far as I have any credit with you, pray you let ’hem want nothing; though I am not ambitious they should know so much. 87

Wo. Sir, both your actions and words speak you to be a true gentleman. They shall know only what is fit, and no more.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Compter.

Enter Holdfast and Bramble.

Ho. Who would you speak with, sir?

Br. I would speak with one Security, that is prisoner here.

Ho. Y’are welcome, sir. Stay there, I’ll call him to you. Master Security!

Enter Security.

Sec. Who calls?

Ho. Here’s a gentleman would speak with you.

Sec. What is he? Is’t one that grafts my forehead now I am in prison, and comes to see how the horns shoot up and prosper? 10

Ho. You must pardon him, sir; the old man is a little crazed with his imprisonment.

Sec. What say you to me, sir? Look you here.—My learned counsel, Master Bramble! cry you mercy, sir! When saw you my wife?

Br. She is now at my house, sir; and desired me that I would come to visit you, and inquire of you your case, that we might work some means to get you forth. 18

Sec. My case,[113] Master Bramble, is stone walls and iron grates; you see it, this is the weakest part on’t. And for getting me forth, no means but hang myself, and so to be carried forth, from which they have here bound me in intolerable bands.

Br. Why, but what is’t you are in for, sir?

Sec. For my sins, for my sins, sir, whereof marriage is the greatest. O, had I never married, I had never known this purgatory, to which hell is a kind of cool bath in respect; my wife’s confederacy, sir, with old Touchstone, that she might keep her jubilee and the feast of her new moon. Do you understand me, sir? 30

Enter Quicksilver.

Qu. Good sir, go in and talk with him. The light does him harm, and his example will be hurtful to the weak prisoners. Fie! father Security, that you’ll be still so profane! Will nothing humble you?

[Exeunt Security, Bramble, and Holdfast.[114]

Enter two Prisoners, with a Friend.

Fr. What’s he?

1st Pr. O, he is a rare young man! Do you not know him?

Fr. Not I. I never saw him, I can remember.

2nd Pr. Why, it is he that was the gallant prentice of London—Master Touchstone’s man. 40

Fr. Who?—Quicksilver?

1st Pr. Ay, this is he.

Fr. Is this he? They say he has been a gallant indeed.

1st Pr. O, the royallest fellow that ever was bred up i’ the city! He would play you his thousand pound a-night at dice; keep knights’ and lords’ company; go with them to bawdy-houses; had his six men in a livery; kept a stable of hunting-horses, and his wench in her velvet gown and her cloth of silver. Here’s one knight with him here in prison. 51

Fr. And how miserably he is changed!

1st Pr. O, that’s voluntary in him: he gave away all his rich clothes as soon as ever he came in here among the prisoners; and will eat o’ the basket,[115] for humility.

Fr. Why will he do so?

1st Pr. Alas, he has no hope of life! He mortifies himself. He does but linger on till the sessions.

2nd Pr. O, he has penned the best thing, that he calls his Repentance or his Last Farewell, that ever you heard. He is a pretty poet; and for prose—you would wonder how many prisoners he has helped out, with penning petitions for ’hem, and not take a penny. Look! this is the knight in the rug gown. Stand by. 64

Enter[116] Sir Petronel and Bramble.

Br. Sir, for Security’s case, I have told him. Say he should be condemned to be carted or whipt for a bawd, or so, why, I’ll lay an execution on him o’ two hundred pound; let him acknowledge a judgment, he shall do it in half an hour; they shall not at all fetch him out without paying the execution, o’ my word. 70

Pe. But can we not be bailed, Master Bramble?

Br. Hardly; there are none of the judges in town, else you should remove yourself (in spite of him) with a habeas corpus. But if you have a friend to deliver your tale sensibly to some justice o’ the town, that he may have feeling of it (do you see), you may be bailed; for as I understand the case, ’tis only done in terrorem; and you shall have an action of false imprisonment against him when you come out, and perhaps a thousand pound costs. 80

Enter Master Wolf.

Qu. How now, Master Wolf?—what news?—what return?

Wo. ’Faith, bad all: yonder will be no letters received. He says the sessions shall determine it. Only, Master Deputy Golding commends him to you, and with this token wishes he could do you other good.

Qu. I thank him. Good Master Bramble, trouble our quiet no more; do not molest us in prison thus, with your winding devices; pray you depart. For my part, I commit my cause to Him that can succour me; let God work His will. Master Wolf, I pray you let this be distributed among the prisoners, and desire ’hem to pray for us. 93

Wo. It shall be done, Master Francis.

1st Pr. An excellent temper!

2nd Pr. Now God send him good luck!

[Exeunt[117] two Prisoners and Friend.

Pe. But what said my father-in-law, Master Wolf?

Enter Holdfast.

Ho. Here’s one would speak with you, sir.

Wo. I’ll tell you anon, Sir Petronel; who is’t?

Ho. A gentleman, sir, that will not be seen. 100

Enter Golding.

Wo. Where is he? Master Deputy! your worship is welcome——

Go. Peace!

Wo. Away, sirrah!

[Exit[118] Bramble.

Go. Good faith, Master Wolf, the estate of these gentlemen, for whom you were so late and willing a suitor, doth much affect me; and because I am desirous to do them some fair office, and find there is no means to make my father relent so likely as to bring him to be a spectator of their miseries, I have ventured on a device, which is, to make myself your prisoner: entreating you will presently go report it to my father, and (feigning an action at suit of some third person) pray him by this token, that he will presently, and with all secrecy, come hither for my bail; which train, if any, I know will bring him abroad; and then, having him here, I doubt not but we shall be all fortunate in the event. 117

Wo. Sir, I will put on my best speed to effect it. Please you come in.

Go. Yes; and let me rest concealed, I pray you.

Wo. See here a benefit truly done, when it is done timely, freely, and to no ambition.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Goldsmiths’ Row.

Enter Touchstone, Mistress Touchstone, Gertrude, Mildred, Sindefy, and Winifred.

To. I will sail by you, and not hear you, like the wise Ulysses.

Mi. Dear father!

Mist. T. Husband!

Ge. Father!

Wi. and Si. Master Touchstone!

To. Away, sirens! I will immure myself against your cries, and lock myself up to your lamentations.

Mist. T. Gentle husband, hear me!

Ge. Father, it is I, father; my Lady Flash. My sister and I am friends. 11

Mi. Good father!

Wi. Be not hardened, good Master Touchstone!

Si. I pray you, sir, be merciful!

To. I am deaf; I do not hear you; I have stopped mine ears with shoemakers’ wax, and drunk Lethe and mandragora[119] to forget you. All you speak to me I commit to the air.

Enter Wolf.

Mi. How now, Master Wolf?

Wo. Where’s Master Touchstone? I must speak with him presently; I have lost my breath for haste. 21

Mi. What is the matter, sir? Pray all be well!

Wo. Master Deputy Golding is arrested upon an execution, and desires him presently to come to him, forthwith.

Mi. Ay me! do you hear, father?

To. Tricks, tricks, confederacy, tricks! I have ’hem in my nose—I scent ’hem!

Wo. Who’s that? Master Touchstone?

Mist. T. Why, it is Master Wolf himself, husband. 30

Mi. Father!

To. I am deaf still, I say. I will neither yield to the song of the siren nor the voice of the hyena,[120] the tears of the crocodile nor the howling o’ the Wolf. Avoid my habitation, monsters!

Wo. Why, you are not mad, sir? I pray you look forth, and see the token I have brought you, sir.

To. Ha! what token is it?

Wo. Do you know it, sir?

To. My son Golding’s ring! Are you in earnest, Master Wolf? 41

Wo. Ay, by my faith, sir. He is in prison, and required me to use all speed and secrecy to you.

To. My cloak, there (pray you be patient). I am plagued for my austerity. My cloak! At whose suit, Master Wolf?

Wo. I’ll tell you as we go, sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Compter.

Enter two Prisoners and Friend.

Fr. Why, but is his offence such as he cannot hope of life?

1st Pr. Troth, it should seem so; and ’tis great pity, for he is exceeding penitent.

Fr. They say he is charged but on suspicion of felony yet.

2nd Pr. Ay, but his master is a shrewd fellow; he’ll prove great matter against him.

Fr. I’d as lieve as anything I could see his Farewell.

1st Pr. O, ’tis rarely written; why, Toby may get him to sing it to you; he’s not curious to anybody. 11

2nd Pr. O no! He would that all the world should take knowledge of his repentance, and thinks he merits in’t the more shame he suffers.

1st Pr. Pray thee, try what thou canst do.

2nd Pr. I warrant you he will not deny it, if he be not hoarse with the often repeating of it.

[Exit.

1st Pr. You never saw a more courteous creature than he is, and the knight too: the poorest prisoner of the house may command ’hem. You shall hear a thing admirably penned. 21

Fr. Is the knight any scholar too?

1st Pr. No, but he will speak very well, and discourse admirably of running horses and White-Friars, and against bawds; and of cocks; and talk as loud as a hunter, but is none.

Enter Wolf and Touchstone.

Wo. Please you, stay here; I’ll call his worship down to you. 28

[Exit Wolf.

Re-enter[121] Wolf with Golding, Quicksilver, Sir Petronel, and Security.

1st Pr. See, he has brought him, and the knight too; salute him, I pray. Sir, this gentleman, upon our report, is very desirous to hear some piece of your Repentance.

Qu. Sir, with all my heart; and, as I told Master Toby, I shall be glad to have any man a witness of it. And the more openly I profess it, I hope it will appear the heartier, and the more unfeigned.

To. Who is this?—my man Francis, and my son-in-law?

Qu. Sir, it is all the testimony I shall leave behind me to the world, and my master that I have so offended.

Fr. Good, sir! 40

Qu. I writ it when my spirits were oppressed.

Pe. Ay, I’ll be sworn for you, Francis.

Qu. It is in imitation of Mannington’s,[122] he that was hanged at Cambridge, that cut off the horse’s head at a blow.

Fr. So, sir!

Qu. To the tune of “I wail in woe, I plunge in pain.”

Pe. An excellent ditty it is, and worthy of a new tune.

Qu. In Cheapside, famous for gold and plate, Quicksilver I did dwell of late; 50 I had a master good and kind, That would have wrought me to his mind. He bade me still, Work upon that, But, alas! I wrought I knew not what. He was a Touchstone black, but true, And told me still what would ensue; Yet woe is me! I would not learn; I saw, alas! but could not discern!

Fr. Excellent, excellent well!

Go. O let him alone: he is taken already. 60

Qu. I cast my coat and cap away, I went in silks and satins gay; False metal of good manners I Did daily coin unlawfully. I scorn’d my master, being drunk; I kept my gelding and my punk; And with a knight, Sir Flash by name, Who now is sorry for the same,—

Pe. I thank you, Francis.

[Qu.] I thought by sea to run away, 70 But Thames and tempest did me stay.

To. This cannot be feigned, sure. Heaven pardon my severity! The ragged colt may prove a good horse.

Go. How he listens, and is transported! He has forgot me.

Qu. Still Eastward-ho was all my word: But westward I had no regard, Nor never thought what would come after, As did, alas! his youngest daughter. At last the black ox trod o’ my foot,[123] 80 And I saw then what long’d unto ’t; Now cry I, “Touchstone, touch me still, And make me current by thy skill.”

To. And I will do it, Francis.

Wo. Stay him, Master Deputy; now is the time: we shall lose the song else.

Fr. I protest it is the best that ever I heard.

Qu. How like you it, gentlemen?

All. O admirable, sir!

Qu. This stanze now following, alludes to the story of Mannington, from whence I took my project for my invention. 92

Fr. Pray you go on, sir.

Qu. O Mannington, thy stories show, Thou cutt’st a horse-head off at a blow! But I confess, I have not the force For to cut off the head of a horse; Yet I desire this grace to win, That I may cut off the horse-head of Sin, And leave his body in the dust 100 Of sin’s highway and bogs of lust, Whereby I may take Virtue’s purse, And live with her for better, for worse.

Fr. Admirable, sir, and excellently conceited!

Qu. Alas, sir!

To. Son Golding and Master Wolf, I thank you: the deceit is welcome, especially from thee, whose charitable soul in this hath shown a high point of wisdom and honesty. Listen, I am ravished with his repentance, and could stand here a whole prenticeship to hear him. 111

Fr. Forth, good sir.

Qu. This is the last, and the Farewell.— Farewell, Cheapside, farewell, sweet trade Of Goldsmiths all, that never shall fade; Farewell, dear fellow prentices all, And be you warnèd by my fall: Shun usurers, bawds, and dice, and drabs, Avoid them as you would French scabs. Seek not to go beyond your tether, 120 But cut your thongs unto your leather: So shall you thrive by little and little, ’Scape Tyburn, Counters, and the Spital!

To. And ’scape them shalt thou, my penitent and dear Francis!

Qu. Master!

Pe. Father!

To. I can no longer forbear to do your humility right. Arise, and let me honour your repentance with the hearty and joyful embraces of a father and friend’s love. Quicksilver, thou hast eat into my breast, Quicksilver, with the drops of thy sorrow, and killed the desperate opinion I had of thy reclaim. 133

Qu. O, sir, I am not worthy to see your worshipful face!

Pe. Forgive me, father.

To. Speak no more; all former passages are forgotten; and here my word shall release you. Thank this worthy brother, and kind friend, Francis.—Master Wolf, I am their bail.

[A shout in the prison.

Sec. Master Touchstone! Master Touchstone!

To. Who’s that?

Wo. Security, sir.

Sec. Pray you, sir, if you’ll be won with a song, hear my lamentable tune too! 144

Song.

O Master Touchstone, My heart is full of woe; Alas, I am a cuckold! And why should it be so? Because I was a usurer And bawd, as all you know, 150 For which, again I tell you, My heart is full of woe.

To. Bring him forth, Master Wolf, and release his bands. This day shall be sacred to mercy and the mirth of this encounter in the Counter. See, we are encountered with more suitors!

Enter Mistress Touchstone, Gertrude, Mildred, Sindefy, Winifred, &c.

Save your breath, save your breath! All things have succeeded to your wishes: and we are heartily satisfied in their events.

Ge. Ah, runaway, runaway! have I caught you? And how has my poor knight done all this while? 161

Pe. Dear lady-wife, forgive me!

Ge. As heartily as I would be forgiven, knight. Dear father, give me your blessing, and forgive me too; I ha’ been proud and lascivious, father; and a fool, father; and being raised to the state of a wanton coy thing, called a lady, father; have scorned you, father, and my sister, and my sister’s velvet cap too; and would make a mouth at the city as I rid through it; and stop mine ears at Bow-bell. I have said your beard was a base one, father; and that you looked like Twierpipe the taberer; and that my mother was but my midwife. 172

Mist. T. Now, God forgi’ you, child madam!

To. No more repetitions. What else is wanting to make our harmony full?

Go. Only this, sir, that my fellow Francis make amends to Mistress Sindefy with marriage.

Qu. With all my heart.

Go. And Security give her a dower, which shall be all the restitution he shall make of that huge mass he hath so unlawfully gotten. 181

To. Excellently devised! a good motion![124] What says Master Security?

Sec. I say anything, sir, what you’ll ha’ me say. Would I were no cuckold!

Wi. Cuckold, husband? Why, I think this wearing of yellow[125] has infected you. 187

To. Why, Master Security, that should rather be a comfort to you than a corasive. If you be a cuckold, it’s an argument you have a beautiful woman to your wife; then you shall be much made of; you shall have store of friends, never want money; you shall be eased of much o’ your wedlock pain, others will take it for you. Besides, you being a usurer (and likely to go to hell), the devils will never torment you: they’ll take you for one o’ their own race. Again, if you be a cuckold, and know it not, you are an innocent; if you know it and endure it, a true martyr. 198

Sec. I am resolved, sir. Come hither, Winny.

To. Well, then, all are pleased, or shall be anon. Master Wolf, you look hungry, methinks; have you no apparel to lend Francis to shift him?

Qu. No, sir, nor I desire none; but here make it my suit, that I may go home through the streets in these, as a spectacle, or rather an example to the children of Cheapside.

To. Thou hast thy wish. Now, London, look about, And in this moral see thy glass run out: Behold the careful father, thrifty son, The solemn deeds which each of us have done; 210 The usurer punish’d, and from fall so steep The prodigal child reclaim’d, and the lost sheep.

EPILOGUS.

[Qu.] Stay, sir, I perceive the multitude are gather’d together to view our coming out at the Counter. See if the streets and the Fronts of the Houses be not thick with people, and the windows fill’d with ladies as on the solemn day of the pageant! O may you find in this our pageant here The same contentment which you came to seek, And as that show but draws you once a year 220 May this attract you hither once a week.

[Exeunt omnes.

THE INSATIATE COUNTESS.

The Insatiate Countesse. A Tragedie: Acted at White-Fryers. Written By Iohn Marston. London: Printed by T. S. for Thomas Archer, and are to be sold at his Shop in Popes-head-Pallace, neere the Royall-Exchange. 1613. 4to.

The Insatiate Countesse. A Tragedie: Acted at White-Fryers. Written By Iohn Marston. London, Printed by I. N. for Hugh Perrie, and are to be sould at his shop, at the signe of the Harrow in Brittaines-burse. 1631. 4to.

STORY OF THE PLAY.

Isabella, Countess of Suevia, being left a widow, proceeds with indecent haste to take a second husband, Roberto, Count of Cyprus. At a masqued dance given by the bridegroom’s friends on the day of the wedding, Isabella falls in love with one of the masquers, whom she discovers to be the Count of Massino [Messina?]. She sends him a letter in which she proffers her love and summons him to her presence. With her paramour she flies to Pavia, where she meets Massino’s friend Gniaca, Count of Gaza or Gazia [Gaeta?]. The Insatiate Countess immediately falls in love with Gniaca, who—though at first unwilling to wrong his friend—quickly yields to her blandishments. Returning from a hunting expedition Massino is denied admittance by Isabella. He gives vent to his indignation by penning bitter satirical verses, in which he proclaims to the world her inordinate lust. Enraged at this exposure, Isabella incites Gniaca to slay Massino. An encounter ensues between Gniaca and Massino, but after a few passes the combatants put up their weapons, hold a friendly colloquy, and part in peace. Isabella is furious and resolves to destroy both Gniaca and Massino. She employs the services of a Spanish colonel, Don Sago, who at first sight of her has been violently inflamed with passion. The colonel shoots Massino dead, is arrested, and, being brought before the Duke of Medina, makes full confession. Isabella is condemned to be beheaded. At the place of execution a strange friar requests that he may have private speech with her. The friar is Count Roberto, who has come to pronounce forgiveness, and bid a last farewell, to his erring wife.

There is also an underplot to the play. Rogero and Claridiana, between whom an hereditary feud exists, celebrate their marriage on the same day. As they return from the church an altercation arises between the bridegrooms, but by the intervention of friends they are at length induced to declare that they will lay aside their hatred. These professions are marked with little sincerity, for the new-made friends are intent upon cornuting one another. The wives, who are excellent friends, take counsel together and devise a scheme by which the husbands, while taking their lawful pleasure, imagine that they are tasting the sweets of adultery. Claridiana, announcing that he has gone to his farm in the country, repairs by appointment to the house of Rogero, where, under the impression that he is enjoying Rogero’s wife Thais, he lies with his own wife Abigail; and Rogero, under Claridiana’s roof lies with Thais in the belief that he is clipping Abigail. While these night-sports are in progress, Mendoza, nephew of the Duke Amago, holds a clandestine interview with the widowed Lady Lentulus. As he is mounting to her chamber, the rope-ladder breaks. Injured by the fall, he drags himself some distance from the house to a spot where he is discovered by the watch. It is supposed that he has met with foul play; a search is instituted; Rogero is discovered by the watch in the house of Claridiana, and Claridiana in the house of Rogero. Charged before the Duke Amago with the murder of Mendoza they declare themselves guilty—preferring to be hanged as murderers rather than to be derided as cuckolds. Mendoza, recovering from the effects of his fall, asserts (in order to save the honour of the Lady Lentulus) that he met his injuries in trying to steal some jewels from her house. The Duke, who is in a maze of wonder at the strange statements and confessions, condemns the three prisoners to be executed, hoping by this means to extort from them the truth. On the day fixed for the execution Thais and Abigail make an explanation to the Duke; and their husbands—finding that they have not been cuckolded—are glad to spare the hangman his labour. How Mendoza fares is not stated.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[126]

Amago, Duke of Venice. Duke of Medina. Roberto, Count of Cyprus. Count Massino. Guido, Count of Arsena. Gniaca, Count of Gazia. Mendoza Foscari, nephew to Amago. Signior Mizaldus. Claridiana. Rogero. Don Sago, a Spanish Colonel. Cardinal.

Isabella, the Insatiate Countess. Lady Lentulus, a widow. Abigail, wife to Claridiana. Thais, wife to Rogero. Anna, waiting-woman to Isabella. Senators, captain, lieutenant, soldiers, messenger, executioner, &c.

Scene—Venice and Pavia.

THE INSATIATE COUNTESS.