Chapter LXXXVI: Act III: Scene I.3063

_Enter_ JASPER _and_ LUCE.

_Jasp._ Come, my dear dear; though we have lost our way,
We have not lost ourselves. Are you not weary
With this night’s wand’ring, broken from your rest,
And frighted with the terror that attends
The darkness of this wild unpeopled place? 5

_Luce._ No, my best friend; I cannot either fear,
Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you
(The end of all my full desires) stand by me.
Let them that lose their hopes, and live to languish
Amongst the number of forsaken lovers, 10
Tell the long weary steps, and number time,
Start at a shadow, and shrink up their blood,
Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet)
Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him.

_Jasp._ You have caught me. Luce, so fast, that, whilst I live, 15
I shall become your faithful prisoner,
And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down,
And rest your body, too, too delicate
For these disturbances.—[_They sit down._] So: will you sleep?
Come, do not be more able[3064] than you are; 20
I know you are not skilful in these watches,
For women are no soldiers. Be not nice,[3065]
But take it;[3066] sleep, I say.

_Luce._ I cannot sleep;
Indeed, I cannot, friend.

_Jasp._ Why, then we’ll sing,
And try how that will work upon our senses. 25

_Luce._ I’ll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep.

_Jasp._ Come, little mermaid, rob me of my heart
With that enchanting voice.

_Luce._ You mock me, Jasper. [_They sing._]

SONG.
_Jasp._ Tell me, dearest, what is love?
_Luce._ ’T is a lightning from above; 30
’T is an arrow, ’t is a fire,
’T is a boy they call Desire;
’T is a smile
Doth beguile
_Jasp._ The poor hearts of men that prove. 35

Tell me more, are women true?
_Luce._ Some love change, and so do you.
_Jasp._ Are they fair and never kind?
_Luce._ Yes, when men turn with the wind.
_Jasp._ Are they froward? 40
_Luce._ Ever toward
Those that love, to love anew.

_Jasp._ Dissemble it no more; I see the god
Of heavy sleep lay on his heavy mace 44
Upon your eyelids.

_Luce._ I am very heavy. [_Sleeps._]

_Jasp._ Sleep, sleep; and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts!
Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings,
Horrors, and fearful shapes! Let all her dreams
Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes,
And such new pleasures as the ravisht soul 50
Gives to the senses!—So; my charms have took.—
Keep her, you powers divine, whilst I contemplate
Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind!
She is only fair and constant, only kind,
And only to thee, Jasper. Oh, my joys! 55
Whither will you transport me? Let not fulness
Of my poor buried hopes come up together
And overcharge my spirits! I am weak.
Some say (however ill) the sea and women
Are govern’d by the moon; both ebb and flow, 60
Both full of changes; yet to them that know,
And truly judge, these but opinions are,
And heresies, to bring on pleasing war
Between our tempers, that without these were
Both void of after-love and present fear; 65
Which are the best of Cupid. Oh, thou child
Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee,
Having a love without the faults of women,
And greater in her perfect goods than men!
Which to make good, and please myself the stronger, 70
Though certainly I am certain of her love,
I’ll try her, that the world and memory
May sing to after-times her constancy.— [_Draws his sword._]
Luce! Luce! awake!

_Luce._ Why do you fright me, friend,
With those distempered looks? What makes[3067] your sword 75
Drawn in your hand? Who hath offended you?
I prithee, Jasper, sleep; thou art wild with watching.

_Jasp._ Come, make your way to Heaven, and bid the world,
With all the villanies that stick upon it,
Farewell; you’re for another life.

_Luce._ Oh, Jasper, 80
How have my tender years committed evil,
Especially against the man I love,
Thus to be cropt untimely?

_Jasp._ Foolish girl,
Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter 84
That flung me from my fortune into nothing?
Discharged me his service, shut the doors
Upon my poverty, and scorn’d my prayers,
Sending me, like a boat without a mast,
To sink or swim? Come; by this hand you die;
I must have life and blood, to satisfy 90
Your father’s wrongs.

_Wife._ Away, George, away! raise the watch at Ludgate, and bring a
mittimus[3068] from the justice for this desperate villain!—Now,
I charge you, gentlemen, see the king’s peace (95) kept!—Oh, my
heart, what a varlet ’s this to offer manslaughter upon the harmless
gentle-woman!

_Cit._ I warrant thee, sweetheart, we’ll have him hampered.

_Luce._ Oh, Jasper, be not cruel! 100
If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly,
And let not many deaths appear before me.
I am a woman, made of fear and love,
A weak, weak woman; kill not with thy eyes.
They shoot me through and through. Strike, I am ready; 105
And, dying, still I love thee.

_Enter_ Merchant [VENTUREWELL], HUMPHREY, _and his men_.

_Vent._ Whereabouts?

_Jasp._ No more of this; now to myself again. [_Aside._]

_Hum._ There, there he stands, with sword, like martial knight,
Drawn in his hand; therefore beware the fight,
You that be wise; for, were I good Sir Bevis,
I would not stay his coming, by your leaves. 111

_Vent._ Sirrah, restore my daughter!

_Jasp._ Sirrah, no.

_Vent._ Upon him, then!
[_They attack_ JASPER, _and force_ LUCE _from him_.]

_Wife._ So; down with him, down with him, down with him!
Cut him i’ th’ leg, boys, cut him i’ th’ leg! 116

_Vent._ Come your ways, minion: I ’ll provide a cage
For you, you ’re grown so tame.—Horse her away.

_Hum._ Truly, I ’m glad your forces have the day.
_Exeunt all except_ JASPER.

_Jasp._ They are gone, and I am hurt; my love is lost, 120
Never to get again. Oh, me unhappy!
Bleed, bleed and die! I cannot. Oh, my folly,
Thou hast betray’d me! Hope, where art thou fled?
Tell me, if thou be’st any where remaining,
Shall I but see my love again? Oh, no! 125
She will not deign to look upon her butcher,
Nor is it fit she should; yet I must venture.
Oh, Chance, or Fortune, or whate’er thou art,
That men adore for powerful, hear my cry,
And let me loving live, or losing die! _Exit._

_Wife._ Is ’a gone, George? 131

_Cit._ Ay, cony.

_Wife._ Marry, and let him go, sweetheart. By the faith a’ my body,
’a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble (as they say) as 135
’t were an aspen-leaf. Look a’ my little finger, George, how it
shakes. Now, i’ truth, every member of my body is the worse for ’t.

_Cit._ Come, hug in mine arms, sweet mouse; he shall not fright thee
any more. Alas, mine own dear heart, how it quivers! 141

[SCENE II.][3069]

_Enter_ MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT, RALPH, MICHAEL, Squire [TIM], Dwarf [GEORGE], Host, _and_ Tapster.

_Wife._ Oh, Ralph! how dost thou, Ralph? How hast thou slept
to-night? Has the knight us’d thee well?

_Cit._ Peace, Nell; let Ralph alone.

_Tap._ Master, the reckoning is not paid. 5

_Ralph._ Right courteous knight, who, for the order’s sake
Which thou hast ta’en, hang’st out the holy Bell,
As I this flaming Pestle bear about,
We render thanks to your puissant self,
Your beauteous lady, and your gentle squires, 10
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs,
Stiff’ned with hard achievements in wild desert.

_Tap._ Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay.

_Ralph._ Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thanks to thee
For comforting our souls with double jug: 15
And, if advent’rous fortune prick thee forth,
Thou jovial squire, to follow feats of arms,
Take heed thou tender every lady’s cause,
Every true knight, and every damsel fair;
But spill the blood of treacherous Saracens, 20
And false enchanters that with magic spells
Have done to death full many a noble knight.

_Host._ Thou valiant Knight of the Burning
Pestle, give ear to me; there is twelve shillings
to pay, and, as I am a true knight, I will not 25
bate a penny.

_Wife._ George, I prithee, tell me, must Ralph pay twelve shillings
now?

_Cit._ No, Nell, no; nothing but the old knight is merry with
Ralph. 30

_Wife._ Oh, is ’t nothing else? Ralph will be as merry as he.

_Ralph._ Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well;
But, to requite this liberal courtesy,
If any of your squires will follow arms, 35
He shall receive from my heroic hand
A knighthood, by the virtue of this Pestle.

_Host._ Fair knight, I thank you for your noble offer:
Therefore, gentle knight,
Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap[3070] you. 40

_Wife._ Look, George! did not I tell thee as much? The knight of the
Bell is in earnest. Ralph shall not be beholding to him: give him his
money, George, and let him go snick up.[3071]

_Cit._ Cap Ralph? No.—Hold your hand, (45) Sir Knight of the Bell;
there ’s your money [_Gives money._]: have you any thing to say to
Ralph now? Cap Ralph!

_Wife._ I would you should know it, Ralph has friends that will not
suffer him to be capt (50) for ten times so much, and ten times to
the end of that.—Now take thy course, Ralph.

_Mist. Mer._ Come, Michael; thou and I will go home to thy father; he
hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we ’ll set fellows 55
abroad to cry our purse and our casket: shall we, Michael?

_Mich._ Ay, I pray, mother; in truth my feet are full of chilblains
with travelling.

_Wife._ Faith, and those chilblains are a (60) foul trouble. Mistress
Merrythought, when your youth comes home, let him rub all the soles
of his feet, and his heels, and his ancles, with a mouse-skin; or, if
none of your people can catch a mouse, when he goes to bed, let 65
him roll his feet in the warm embers, and, I warrant you, he shall
be well; and you may make him put his fingers between his toes, and
smell to them; it’s very sovereign for his head, if he be costive. 70

_Mist. Mer._ Master Knight of the Burning Pestle, my son Michael and
I bid you farewell: I thank your worship heartily for your kindness.

_Ralph._ Farewell, fair lady, and your tender squire. 75
If pricking through these deserts, I do hear
Of any traitorous knight, who through his guile
Hath light upon your casket and your purse,
I will dispoil him of them, and restore them.

_Mist. Mer._ I thank your worship. _Exit with_ MICHAEL. 80

_Ralph._ Dwarf, bear my shield; squire, elevate my lance:—
And now farewell, you Knight of holy Bell.

_Cit._ Ay, ay, Ralph, all is paid.

_Ralph._ But yet, before I go, speak, worthy knight,
If aught you do of sad[3072] adventures know, 85
Where errant knight may through his prowess win
Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls
From endless bonds of steel and ling’ring pain.

_Host._ Sirrah, go to Nick the barber, and bid him prepare himself,
as I told you before, (90) quickly.

_Tap._ I am gone, sir. _Exit._

_Host._ Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none
But the great venture, where full many a knight
Hath tri’d his prowess, and come off with shame; 95
And where I would not have you lose your life
Against no man, but furious fiend of hell.

_Ralph._ Speak on, Sir Knight; tell what he is and where:
For here I vow, upon my blazing badge,
Never to blaze a day in quietness, 100
But bread and water will I only eat,
And the green herb and rock shall be my couch.
Till I have quell’d[3073] that man, or beast, or fiend,
That works such damage to all errant knights.

_Host._ Not far from hence, near to a craggy cliff, 105
At the north end of this distressed town,
There doth stand a lowly house,
Ruggedly builded, and in it a cave
In which an ugly giant now doth won,[3074]
Ycleped Barbaroso: in his hand 110
He shakes a naked lance of purest steel,
With sleeves turn’d up; and him before he wears
A motley garment, to preserve his clothes
From blood of those knights which he massacres,
And ladies gent:[3075] without his door doth hang
A copper basin on a prickant[3076] spear; 116
At which no sooner gentle knights can knock,
But the shrill sound fierce Barbaroso hears,
And rushing forth, brings in the errant knight
And sets him down in an enchanted chair; 120
Then with an engine, which he hath prepar’d,
With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown;
Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin
He plants a brazen piece of mighty bord.[3077]
And knocks his bullets[3078] round about his cheeks; 125
Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument
With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill
The wretch’s ears with a most hideous noise.
Thus every knight-adventurer he doth trim,
And now no creature dares encounter him. 130

_Ralph._ In God’s name, I will fight him. Kind sir,
Go but before me to this dismal cave,
Where this huge giant Barbaroso dwells,
And, by that virtue that brave Rosicleer
That damned brood of ugly giants slew, 135
And Palmerin Frannarco overthrew,
I doubt not but to curb this traitor foul,
And to the devil send his guilty soul.

_Host._ Brave-sprighted knight, thus far I will perform
This your request: I ’ll bring you within sight
Of this most loathsome place, inhabited 141
By a more loathsome man; but dare not stay,
For his main force swoops all he sees away.

_Ralph._ Saint George, set on before! March squire and page! _Exeunt._

_Wife._ George, dost think Ralph will confound (145) the giant?

_Cit._ I hold my cap to a farthing he does. Why, Nell, I saw him
wrastle with the great Dutchman, and hurl him.

_Wife._ Faith, and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all things
were answerable to his (151) bigness. And yet they say there was a
Scotchman higher than he, and that they two and a knight met, and
saw one another for nothing. But of all the sights that ever were in
London, (155) since I was married, methinks the little child that
was so fair grown about the members was the prettiest; that and the
hermaphrodite.

_Cit._ Nay, by your leave, Nell, Ninivie[3079] was better. 160

_Wife._ Ninivie! Oh, that was the story of Jone and the wall,[3080]
was it not, George?

_Cit._ Yes, lamb.

[SCENE III.][3081]

_Enter_ MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT.

_Wife._ Look, George, here comes Mistress Merrythought again! and I
would have Ralph come and fight with the giant; I tell you true, I
long to see ’t.

_Cit._ Good Mistress Merrythought, begone, (5) I pray you, for
my sake; I pray you, forbear a little; you shall have audience
presently; I have a little business.

_Wife._ Mistress Merrythought, if it please you to refrain your
passion a little, till Ralph (10) have despatcht the giant out of the
way, we shall think ourselves much bound to you. I thank you, good
Mistress Merrythought. _Exit_ MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT.

_Enter a_ Boy.

_Cit._ Boy, come hither. Send away Ralph and this whoreson giant
quickly. 15

_Boy._ In good faith, sir, we cannot; you ’ll utterly spoil our play,
and make it to be hist; and it cost money; you will not suffer us to
go on with our plot.—I pray, gentlemen, rule him.

_Cit._ Let him come now and despatch this, (20) and I ’ll trouble you
no more.

_Boy._ Will you give me your hand of that?

_Wife._ Give him thy hand, George, do; and I ’ll kiss him. I warrant
thee, the youth means plainly. 25

_Boy._ I ’ll send him to you presently.[3082]

_Wife._ [_kissing him._] I thank you, little youth. (_Exit_ Boy.)
Faith, the child hath a sweet breath, George; but I think it be
troubled with the worms; _carduus benedictus_ and mare’s milk 30
were the only thing in the world for ’t.

[SCENE IV.][3083]

_Enter_ RALPH, Host, TIM, _and_ GEORGE.

_Wife._ Oh, Ralph ’s here, George!—God send thee good luck, Ralph!

_Host._ Puissant knight, yonder his mansion is.
Lo, where the spear and copper basin are!
Behold that string, on which hangs many a tooth, 5
Drawn from the gentle jaw of wand’ring knights!
I dare not stay to sound; he will appear.[3084] _Exit._

_Ralph._ Oh, faint not, heart! Susan, my lady dear,
The cobbler’s maid in Milk-street, for whose sake 9
I take these arms, oh, let the thought of thee
Carry thy knight through all adventurous deeds;
And, in the honour of thy beauteous self,
May I destroy this monster Barbaroso!—
Knock, squire, upon the basin, till it break 14
With the shrill strokes, or till the giant speak.
[TIM _knocks upon the basin._]

_Enter_ Barber.

_Wife._ Oh, George, the giant, the giant!—Now, Ralph for thy life!

_Bar._ What fond[3085] unknowing wight is this, that dares
So rudely knock at Barbaroso’s cell,
Where no man comes but leaves his fleece behind? 20

_Ralph._ I, traitorous caitiff, who am sent by fate
To punish all the sad enormities
Thou hast committed against ladies gent
And errant knights. Traitor to God and men,
Prepare thyself! This is the dismal hour 25
Appointed for thee to give strict account
Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.

_Bar._ Fool-hardy knight, full soon thou shalt aby[3086]
This fond reproach: thy body will I bang; _Takes down his pole._ 29
And, lo, upon that string thy teeth shall hang!
Prepare thyself, for dead soon shalt thou be.

_Ralph._ Saint George for me! _They fight._

_Bar._ Gargantua for me!

_Wife._ To him, Ralph, to him! hold up the giant; set out thy leg
before, Ralph! 35

_Cit._ Falsify[3087] a blow, Ralph, falsify a blow!
The giant lies open on the left side.

_Wife._ Bear ’t off, bear ’t off still! there, boy!—
Oh, Ralph ’s almost down, Ralph ’s almost down!

_Ralph._ Susan, inspire me! Now have up again. 40

_Wife._ Up, up, up, up, up! so, Ralph! down with him, down with him,
Ralph!

_Cit._ Fetch him o’er the hip, boy!
[RALPH _knocks down the_ Barber.]

_Wife._ There, boy! kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Ralph!

_Cit._ No, Ralph; get all out of him first. 45

_Ralph._ Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end
Thy treachery hath brought thee! The just gods,
Who never prosper those that do despise them,
For all the villanies which thou hast done
To knights and ladies, now have paid thee home 50
By my stiff arm, a knight adventurous.
But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul
To sad Avernus, whither it must go,
What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave?

_Bar._ Go in, and free them all; thou hast the day. 55

_Ralph._ Go, squire and dwarf, search in this dreadful cave,
And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.
_Exeunt_ TIM _and_ GEORGE.

_Bar._ I crave for mercy, as thou art a knight,
And scorn’st to spill the blood of those that beg.

_Ralph._ Thou show’d’st no mercy, nor shalt thou have any; 60
Prepare thyself, for thou shalt surely die.

_Re-enter_ Squire [TIM], _leading one winking, with a Basin under his Chin_.

_Tim._ Behold, brave knight, here is one prisoner,
Whom this wild man hath used as you see.

_Wife._ This is the first wise word I heard the
squire speak. 65

_Ralph._ Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us’d.
That I may give him condign punishment.

_1 Kn._ I am a knight that took my journey post
Northward from London; and in courteous wise
This giant train’d me to his loathsome den, 70
Under pretence of killing of the itch;
And all my body with a powder strew’d,
That smarts and stings; and cut away my beard,
And my curl’d locks wherein were ribands ti’d;
And with a water washt my tender eyes, 75
(Whilst up and down about me still he skipt,)
Whose virtue is, that, till my eyes be wipt
With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace,
I shall not dare to look a dog i’ th’ face.

_Wife._ Alas, poor knight!—Relieve him, (80) Ralph; relieve poor
knights, whilst you live.

_Ralph._ My trusty squire, convey him to the town,
Where he may find relief.—Adieu, fair knight. _Exit_ 1 Knight.

_Re-enter_ Dwarf [GEORGE], _leading one, with a patch o’er his nose._

_George._ Puissant Knight, of the Burning Pestle hight, 84
See here another wretch, whom this foul beast
Hath scorcht[3088] and scor’d in this inhuman wise.

_Ralph._ Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth,
And what hath been thy usage in this cave.

_2 Kn._ I am a knight. Sir Pockhole is my name,
And by my birth I am a Londoner, 90
Free by my copy,[3089] but my ancestors
Were Frenchmen[3090] all; and riding hard this way
Upon a trotting horse, my bones did ache;
And I, faint knight, to ease my weary limbs,
Light at this cave; when straight this furious fiend, 95
With sharpest instruments of purest steel,
Did cut the gristle of my nose away,
And in the place this velvet plaster stands.
Relieve me, gentle knight, out of his hands! 99

_Wife._ Good Ralph, relieve Sit Pockhole, and send him away; for in
truth his breath stinks.

_Ralph._ Convey him straight after the other knight.—
Sir Pockhole, fare you well.

_2 Kn._ Kind sir, good night. _Exit._

_Man._ [_within._] Deliver us! _Cries within._

_Woman._ [_within._] Deliver us! 105

_Wife._ Hark, George, what a woeful cry there is! I think some woman
lies-in there.

_Man._ [_within._] Deliver us!

_Women._ [_within._] Deliver us!

_Ralph._ What ghastly noise is this? Speak, Barbaroso, 110
Or, by this blazing steel, thy head goes off!

_Bar._ Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep.
Send lower down into the cave,
And in a tub that ’s heated smoking hot,
There may they find them, and deliver them. 115

_Ralph._ Run, squire and dwarf; deliver them with speed.
_Exeunt_ TIM _and_ GEORGE.

_Wife._ But will not Ralph kill this giant? Surely I am afeard, if he
let him go, he will do as much hurt as ever he did.

_Cit._ Not so, mouse, neither, if he could convert him. 121

_Wife._ Ay, George, if he could convert him; but a giant is not so
soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There ’s a pretty tale
of a witch, that had the devil’s mark about her, (God bless us!) that
had a giant to her son, (126) that was call’d Lob-lie-by-the-fire;
didst never hear it, George?

_Re-enter_ Squire [TIM], _leading a_ Man, _with a glass of lotion in his hand, and_ Dwarf [GEORGE], _leading a_ Woman, _with diet-bread and drink_ [_in her hand_].

_Cit._ Peace, Nell, here comes the prisoners.

_George._ Here be these pined wretches, manful knight, 130
That for this six weeks have not seen a wight.

_Ralph._ Deliver what you are, and how you came
To this sad cave, and what your usage was?

_Man._ I am an errant knight that followed arms
With spear and shield; and in my tender years
I stricken was with Cupid’s fiery shaft, 136
And fell in love with this my lady dear,
And stole her from her friends in Turnbull-street,[3091]
And bore her up and down from town to town,
Where we did eat and drink, and music hear;
Till at the length at this unhappy town 141
We did arrive, and coming to this cave,
This beast us caught, and put us in a tub,
Where we this two months sweat,[3092] and should have done
Another month, if you had not reliev’d us. 145

_Woman._ This bread and water hath our diet been,
Together with a rib cut from a neck
Of burned mutton; hard hath been our fare.
Release us from this ugly giant’s snare!

_Man._ This hath been all the food we have receiv’d; 150
But only twice a-day, for novelty.
He gave a spoonful of this hearty broth
To each of us, through this same slender quill. _Pulls out a syringe._

_Ralph._ From this infernal monster you shall go,
That useth knights and gentle ladies so!— 155
Convey them hence. _Exeunt_ Man _and_ Woman.

_Cit._ Cony, I can tell thee, the gentlemen like Ralph.

_Wife._ Ay, George, I see it well enough.—Gentlemen, I thank you all
heartily for (160) gracing my man Ralph; and I promise you, you shall
see him oft’ner.

_Bar._ Mercy, great knight! I do recant my ill,
And henceforth never gentle blood will spill.

_Ralph._ I give thee mercy; but yet shalt thou swear 165
Upon my Burning Pestle, to perform
Thy promise uttered.

_Bar._ I swear and kiss. [_Kisses the Pestle._]

_Ralph._ Depart, then, and amend.— [_Exit_ Barber.]
Come, squire and dwarf; the sun grows towards his set,
And we have many more adventures yet. _Exeunt._ 170

_Cit._ Now Ralph is in this humour, I know he would ha’ beaten all
the boys in the house, if they had been set on him.

_Wife._ Ay, George, but it is well as it is. I warrant you, the
gentlemen do consider what it is to overthrow a giant. But, look, 176
George; here comes Mistress Merrythought, and her son Michael.—Now
you are welcome, Mistress Merrythought; now Ralph has done, you may
go on.

[SCENE V.][3093]

_Enter_ MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT _and_ MICHAEL.

_Mist. Mer._ Mick, my boy—

_Mich._ Ay, forsooth, mother.

_Mist. Mer._ Be merry, Mick; we are at home now; where, I warrant
you, you shall find the house flung out of the windows. [_Music
within._] (5) Hark! hey, dogs, hey! this is the old world,[3094] i’
faith, with my husband. If I get in among ’em, I ’ll play ’em such
a lesson, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither
again.—Why, Master Merrythought! husband! Charles Merrythought! 11

_Mer._ [_appearing above, and singing._]
If you will sing, and dance, and laugh,
And hollow, and laugh again,
And then cry, “There, boys, there!” why, then,
One, two, three, and four, 15
We shall be merry within this hour.

_Mist. Mer._ Why, Charles, do you not know your own natural wife?
I say, open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; ’t
is more than time that they were fellow and (20) fellow-like with
you. You are a gentleman, Charles, and an old man, and father of two
children; and I myself, (though I say it) by my mother’s side niece
to a worshipful gentleman and a conductor;[3095] he has been three
times (25) in his majesty’s service at Chester, and is now the fourth
time, God bless him and his charge, upon his journey.

_Mer._ [_sings._]
Go from my window, love, go;
Go from my window, my dear! 30
The wind and the rain
Will drive you back again;
You cannot be lodged here.
Hark you, Mistress Merrythought, you that walk upon adventures, and
forsake your husband, (35) because he sings with never a penny in
his purse: what, shall I think myself the worse? Faith, no, I ’ll be
merry. You come not here; here ’s none but lads of mettle, lives of
a hundred years and upwards; care never (40) drunk their bloods, nor
want made ’em warble “Heigh-ho, my heart is heavy.”

_Mist. Mer._ Why, Master Merrythought, what am I, that you should
laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? Am I not your fellow-feeler, as 45
we may say, in all our miseries? your comforter in health and
sickness? Have I not brought you children? Are they not like you,
Charles? look upon thine own image, hard-hearted man! and yet for all
this—— 50

_Mer._ [_sings._]
Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy,
Begone, my love, my dear!
The weather is warm,
’T will do thee no harm:
Thou canst not be lodged here.— 55
Be merry, boys! some light music, and more wine! [_Exit above._]

_Wife._ He ’s not in earnest, I hope, George, is he?

_Cit._ What if he be, sweetheart? 60

_Wife._ Marry, if he be, George, I ’ll make bold to tell him he’s an
ingrant[3096] old man to use his bed-fellow so scurvily.

_Cit._ What! how does he use her, honey?

_Wife._ Marry, come up, sir saucebox! I think you ’ll take his part,
will you not? Lord, how (66) hot you are grown! You are a fine man,
an you had a fine dog; it becomes you sweetly!

_Cit._ Nay, prithee, Nell, chide not; for, as I am an honest man and
a true Christian grocer, (70) I do not like his doings.

_Wife._ I cry you mercy, then, George! you know we are all frail and
full of infirmities.— D’ye hear, Master Merrythought? May I crave a
word with you? 75

_Mer._ [_appearing above_.] Strike up lively, lads!

_Wife._ I had not thought, in truth. Master Merrythought, that a man
of your age and discretion, as I may say, being a gentleman, (80) and
therefore known by your gentle conditions,[3097] could have used so
little respect to the weakness of his wife; for your wife is your own
flesh, the staff of your age, your yoke-fellow, with whose help you
draw through the mire to this (85) transitory world; nay, she’s your
own rib: and again——

_Mer._ [_sings_.]
I come not hither for thee to teach,
I have no pulpit for thee to preach,
I would thou hadst kist me under the breech, 90
As thou art a lady gay.

_Wife._ Marry, with a vengeance! I am heartily sorry for the poor
gentlewoman: but if I were thy wife, i’ faith, greybeard, i’ faith——

_Cit._ I prithee, sweet honeysuckle, be (95) content.

_Wife._ Give me such words, that am a gentlewoman born! Hang him,
hoary rascal! Get me some drink, George; I am almost molten with
fretting: now, beshrew his knave’s heart (100) for it! [_Exit_
Citizen.]

_Mer._ Play me a light lavolta.[3098] Come, be frolic. Fill the good
fellows wine.

_Mist. Mer._ Why, Master Merrythought, are you disposed to make me
wait here? You’ll (105) open, I hope; I’ll fetch them that shall open
else.

_Mer._ Good woman, if you will sing, I’ll give you something; if
not—— [_Sings_.]
You are no love for me, Margaret, 110
I am no love for you.—
Come aloft,[3099] boys, aloft! [_Exit above_.]

_Mist. Mer._ Now a churl’s fart in your teeth, sir!—Come, Mick,
we’ll not trouble him; ’a shall not ding us i’ th’ teeth with his
bread (115) and his broth, that he shall not. Come, boy; I’ll provide
for thee, I warrant thee. We’ll go to Master Venturewell’s, the
merchant: I’ll get his letter to mine host of the Bell in Waltham;
there I’ll place thee with the tapster: (120) will not that do well
for thee, Mick? And let me alone for that old cuckoldly knave your
father: I’ll use him in his kind,[3100] I warrant ye. [_Exeunt._]

[_Re-enter_ Citizen _with Beer_.]

_Wife._ Come, George, where’s the beer?

_Cit._ Here, love. 125

_Wife._ This old fornicating fellow will not out of my mind
yet.—Gentlemen, I’ll begin to you all; and I desire more of your
acquaintance with all my heart. [_Drinks_.] Fill the gentlemen some
beer, George. _Music. Boy danceth._ (130) Look,[3101] George; the
little boy’s come again: methinks he looks something like the Prince
of Orange in his long stocking, if he had a little harness[3102]
about his neck. George, I will have him dance _Fading_.—_Fading_
is a fine jig, (135) I’ll assure you, gentlemen.—Begin, brother.
—Now ’a capers, sweetheart!—Now a turn i’ th’ toe, and then tumble!
cannot you tumble, youth?

_Boy._ No, indeed, forsooth. 140

_Wife._ Nor eat fire?

_Boy._ Neither.

_Wife._ Why, then, I thank you heartily; there’s twopence to buy you
points[3103] withal.