Part 2 / Act 5 — ACT V. SCENE I.
Reading edition
An apartment in the house of the Duchess.
Enter Celia, Page,[961] and Crotchet.
Celia. Sir, I’m of that opinion; being kept hard to’t,
In troth I think he’ll take his prick-song well.
Crot. [sings] G, sol, re, ut; you guess not right, i’faith.
Mistress, you’ll find you’re in an error straight.—
Come on, sir, lay the books down.—You shall see now.
Page. Would I’d an honest caudle next my heart!
Let who[962] would sol fa, I’d give them my part.
In troth methinks I’ve a great longing in me
To bite a piece of the musician’s nose off;
But I’ll rather
Lose my longing than spoil the poor man’s singing:
The very tip will serve my turn, methinks,
If I could get it; that he might well spare,
His nose is of the longest. O, my back! [Aside.
Crot. You shall hear that.—Rehearse your gamut, boy.
Page. Who’d be thus toil’d for love, and want the joy? [Aside.
Crot. Why, when![963] begin, sir: I must stay your leisure?
Page. Gamut [sings], a, re, b, me, &c.
Crot. [sings] Ee la: aloft! above the clouds, my boy!
Page. It must be a better note than ela,[964] sir,
625That brings musicians thither; they’re too hasty,
The most part of 'em, to take such a journey,
And must needs fall by th’ way.
Crot. How many cliffs be there?
Page. One cliff, sir.
Crot. O intolerable heretic
To voice and music! do you know but one cliff?
Page. No more, indeed, I, sir;—and at this time
I know too much of that. [Aside.
Crot. How many notes be there?
Page. Eight, sir.—I fear me I shall find nine shortly,
To my great shame and sorrow. O my stomach! [Aside.
Crot. Will you repeat your notes then? I must sol fa you;
Why, when,[965] sir?
Page. A large, a long,[966] a breve, a semibreve,
A minim, a crotchet, a quaver, a semiquaver.
Crot. O, have you found the way?
Page. Never trust me
If I’ve not lost my wind with naming of 'em! [Aside.
Crot. Come, boy, your mind’s upon some other thing now;
Set to your song.
Page. Was ever wench so punish’d? [Aside.
626Crot. [sings] Ut,—come, begin.
Page. [sings] Ut, mi, re, fa, sol, la.
Crot. Keep time, you foolish boy.
[Here they sing prick-song.[967]
How like you this, madonna?
Celia. Pretty;
He will do well in time, being kept under.
Crot. I’ll make his ears sore and his knuckles ache else.
Celia. And that’s the way to bring a boy to goodness, sir.
Crot. There’s many now wax’d proper gentlemen
Whom I have nipp’d i’ th’ ear, wench; that’s my comfort.—
Come, sing me over the last song I taught you;
You’re perfect in that sure; look you keep time well,
Or here I’ll notch your faults up. Sol, sol; [sings] begin, boy. [Song.[968]
Celia. So, you’ve done well, sir.
Here comes the dancing-master now; you’re discharg’d.
Enter Sinquapace.
Sinq. O, signor Crotchet, O!
Crot. A minim rest,
Two cliffs, and a semibreve. In the name
Of alamire,[969] what’s the matter, sir?
Sinq. The horriblest disaster that ever disgraced the lofty cunning of a dancer.
Crot. [sings] B, fa, b, mi,—heaven forbid, man!
627Sinq. O—O—the most cruel fortune!
Crot. That semiquaver is no friend to you,
That I must tell you; ’tis not for a dancer
To put his voice so hard to’t; every workman
Must use his own tools, sir;—de, fa, sol, [sings]—man, dilate
The matter to me.
Sinq. Faith, riding upon my foot-cloth,[970] as I use to do, coming through a crowd, by chance I let fall my fiddle.
Crot. [sings] De, sol, re:—your fiddle, sir?
Sinq. O, that such an instrument should be made to betray a poor gentleman! nay, which is more lamentable, whose luck should it be to take up this unfortunate fiddle but a barber’s prentice, who cried out presently, according to his nature, You trim gentleman on horseback, you’ve lost your fiddle, your worship’s fiddle! seeing me upon my foot-cloth, the mannerly coxcomb could say no less; but away rid I, sir; put my horse to a coranto pace,[971] and left my fiddle behind me.
Crot. [sings] De, la, sol, re.
Sinq. Ay, was’t not a strange fortune? an excellent treble-viol! by my troth, ’twas my master’s when I was but a pumper, that is, a puller-on of gentlemen’s pumps.
Crot. [sings] C, c, sol, fa,—I knew you then, sir.
Sinq. But I make no question but I shall hear on’t shortly at one broker’s or another; for I know the barber will scourse[972] it away for some old cittern.[973]
628Crot. [sings] Ela, mi,—my life for your’s on that, sir:
I must to my other scholars, my hour calls me away;
I leave you to your practice—fa, sol, la [sings]—fare you well, sir.
Sinq. The lavoltas[974] of a merry heart be with you, sir [exit Crotchet]; and a merry heart makes a good singing-man: a man may love to hear himself talk when he carries pith in’s mouth.—
Metereza[975] Celia.
Celia. Signor Sinquapace,
The welcom’st gentleman alive of a dancer!
This is the youth; he can do little yet,
His[976] prick-song very poorly; he is one
Must have it put into him; somewhat dull, sir.
Sinq. As you are all at first; you know ’twas long
Ere you could learn your doubles.
Celia. Ay, that’s true, sir;
But I can tickle’t now. Fa, la, la, &c.
[Sings and dances.
Lo, you, how like you me now, sir?
Sinq. Marry, pray for the founder, here he stands;
Long may he live to receive quarterages,
Go brave,[977] and pay his mercer wondrous duly,
Ay, and his jealous laundress,
That for the love she bears him starches yellow;[978]
Poor soul! my own flesh knows I wrong her not.
Come, metereza, once more shake your great hips and your little heels, since you begin to fall in of 629yourself, and dance over the end of the coranto[979] I taught you last night.
Celia. The tune’s clear out of my head, sir.
Sinq. A pox of my little usher! how long he stays too with the second part of the former fiddle! Come, I’ll sol fa it i’ th’ meantime: Fa, la, la, la, &c. [he sings while Celia dances.] Perfectly excellent! I will make you fit to dance with the best Christian gentleman in Europe, and keep time with him for his heart, ere I give you over.
Celia. Nay, I know I shall do well, sir, and I am somewhat proud on’t; but ’twas my mother’s fault, when she danced with the duke of Florence.
Sinq. Why, you will never dance well while you live,
If you be not proud. I know that by myself;
I may teach my heart out, if you’ve not the grace
To follow me.
Celia. I warrant you for that, sir.
Sinq. Gentlewomen that are good scholars
Will come as near their masters as they can;
I’ve known some lie with 'em for their better understanding:
I speak not this to draw you on, forsooth;
Use your pleasure; if you come, you’re welcome;
You shall see a fine lodging, a dish of comfits,
Music, and sweet linen.
Celia. And trust me, sir,
No woman can wish more in this world,
Unless it be ten pound in th’ chamber-window,
Laid ready in good gold against she rises.
Sinq. Those things are got in a morning, wench, with me.
Celia. Indeed, I hold the morning the best time of getting;
630So says my sister; she’s a lawyer’s wife, sir,
And should know what belongs to cases best.
A fitter time for this; I must not talk
Too long of women’s matters before boys.
He’s very raw, you must take pains with him,
It is the duchess’ mind it should be so;
She loves him well, I tell you. [Exit.
Sinq. How, love him?
He’s too little for any woman’s love i’ th’ town
By three handfulls:[980] I wonder of a great woman
Sh’as no more wit, i’faith; one of my pitch
Were somewhat tolerable.
Enter Nicholao with a viol.
O, are you come?
Who would be thus plagu’d with a dandiprat usher!
How many kicks do you deserve in conscience?
Nic. Your horse is safe, sir.
Sinq. Now I talk’d of kicking,
'Twas well remember’d; is not the foot-cloth stoln yet?
Nic. More by good hap than any cunning, sir. Would any gentleman but you get a tailor’s son to walk his horse, in this dear time of black velvet?
Sinq. Troth, thou sayst true; thy care has got thy pardon;
I’ll venture so no more.—Come, my young scholar,
I’m ready for you now.
Page. Alas, 'twill kill me!
I’m even as full of qualms as heart can bear:
How shall I do to hold up? [Aside.]—Alas, sir,
I can dance nothing but ill-favouredly,
A strain or two of passa-measures galliard![981]
631Sinq. Marry, you’re forwarder than I conceiv’d you;
A toward stripling.—Enter him, Nicholao;
For the fool’s bashful, as they’re all at first,
Till they be once well enter’d.
Nic. Passa-measures, sir?
Sinq. Ay, sir, I hope you hear me.—Mark him now, boy.—
[Nicholao dances, while Sinquapace plays.
Ha, well done! excellent boy! dainty, fine springal![982]
The glory of Dancers’ Hall, if they had any!
And of all professions they’d most need of one,
For room to practise in, yet they have none.
O times! O manners! you have very little:
Why should the leaden-heel’d plumber have his hall,
And the light-footed dancer none at all?
But fortuna della guerra[983] things must be;
We’re born to teach in back-houses and nooks,
Garrets sometimes, where’t rains upon our books.—
Come on, sir; are you ready? first, your honour.
632Page. I’ll wish no foe a greater cross upon her.
[Aside—then makes a curtsy.
Sinq. Curtsy, heyday! run to him, Nicholao;
By this light, he’ll shame me; he makes curtsy like a chambermaid.
Nic. Why, what do you mean, page? are you mad? did you ever see a boy begin a dance and make curtsy like a wench before?
Page. Troth, I was thinking of another thing,
And quite forgot myself; I pray, forgive me, sir.
Sinq. Come, make amends then now with a good leg,
And dance it sprightly. [Plays, while Page dances.] What a beastly leg
Has he made there now! it would vex one’s heart out.
Now begin, boy.—O, O, O, O! &c.[984] Open thy knees; wider, wider, wider, wider: did you ever see a boy dance clenched up? he needs a pick-lock: out upon thee for an arrant ass! an arrant ass! I shall lose my credit by thee; a pestilence on thee!—Here, boy, hold the viol [gives the viol to Nicholao, who plays when Page proceeds to dance]; let me come to him: I shall get more disgrace by this little monkey now than by all the ladies that ever I taught.—Come on, sir, now; cast thy leg out from thee; lift it up aloft, boy: a pox, his knees are soldered together, they’re sewed together: canst not stride? O, I could eat thee up, I could eat thee up, and begin upon thy hinder quarter, thy hinder quarter! I shall never teach this boy without a screw; his knees must be opened with a vice, or there’s no good to be done upon him. Who taught you to dance, boy?
Page. It is but little, sir, that I can do.
633Sinq. No, I’ll be sworn for you.
Page. And that signor Laurentio taught me, sir.
Sinq. Signor Laurentio was an arrant coxcomb,
And fit to teach none but white bakers’ children
To knead their knees together. You can turn above ground, boy?
Page. Not I, sir; my turn’s rather under ground.
Sinq. We’ll see what you can do; I love to try
What’s in my scholars the first hour I teach them.
Shew him a close trick now, Nicholao.
[Nicholao dances while Sinquapace plays.
Ha, dainty stripling!—Come, boy.
Page. 'Las, not I, sir;
I’m not for lofty tricks, indeed I am not, sir.
Sinq. How? such another word, down goes your hose,[985] boy.
Page. Alas,’tis time for me to do any thing then!
[Attempts to dance, and falls down.
Sinq. Heyday, he’s down!—Is this your lofty trick, boy?
Nic. O master, the boy swoons! he’s dead, I fear me.
Sinq. Dead? I ne’er knew one die with a lofty trick before.—
Up, sirrah, up!
Page. A midwife! run for a midwife!
Sinq. A midwife? by this light, the boy’s with child!
A miracle! some woman is the father.
The world’s turn’d upside down: sure if men breed,
Women must get; one never could do both yet.—
No marvel you danc’d close-knee’d the sinquapace.[986]—
Put up my fiddle, here’s a stranger case.
[Exit Sinquapace, leading out Page.
Nic. That ’tis, I’ll swear; 'twill make the duchess wonder:
634I fear me 'twill bring dancing out of request,
And hinder our profession for a time.
Your women that are closely got with child
Will put themselves clean out of exercise,
And will not venture now, for fear of meeting
Their shames in a coranto,[987] ’specially
If they be near their time. Well, in my knowledge,
If that should happen, we are sure to lose
Many a good waiting-woman that’s now o’er shoes.
Alas the while! [Exit.