Be overreach’d thus but with overreaching.
Re-enter SECURITY.
Sec. And, Master Francis, watch you th’ instant time
To enter with his exit: ‘t will be rare,
Exit.
Two fine horn’d beasts, a camel and a lawyer!
Quick. How the old villain joys in villainy!
Re-enter SECURITY.
Sec. And hark you, gossip, when you have her here,
Have your boat ready, ship her to your ship
With utmost haste, lest Master Bramble stay you.
To o’erreach that head that outreacheth all heads!
‘T is a trick rampant!— ‘t is a very quibblin!
I hope this harvest to pitch cart with lawyers,
Their heads will be so forked. This sly touch
Will get apes to invent a number such.
Exit.
Quick. Was ever rascal honeyed so with poison?
“He that delights in slavish avarice,
Is apt to joy in every sort of vice.”
Well, I’ll go fetch his wife, whilst he the lawyer.
Pet. But stay, Frank, let’s think how we may disguise her.
Upon this sudden.
Quick. God’s me, there’s the mischief!
But hark you, here’s an excellent device —
‘Fore God, a rare one! I will carry her
A sailor’s gown and cap, and cover her,
And a player’s beard.
Pet. And what upon her head?
Quick. I tell you, a sailor’s cap! ‘Slight, God forgive me!
What kind of figent memory have you?
Pet. Nay, then, what kind of figent wit hast thou?
A sailor’s cap? — how shall she put it off
When thou present’st her to our company?
Quick. Tush, man, for that, make her a saucy sailor!
Pet. Tush, tush! ‘t is no fit sauce for such sweet mutton.
I know not what t’ advise.
Enter SECURITY with his wife’s gown.
Sec. Knight, knight, a rare device!
Pet. Sownes, yet again?
Quick. What stratagem have you now?
Sec. The best that ever — you talk’d of disguising?
Pet. Ay, marry, gossip, that’s our present care.
Sec. Cast care away then; here’s the best device
For plain Security (for I am no better),
I think, that ever liv’d; here’s my wife’s gown,
Which you may put upon the lawyer’s wife,
And which I brought you, sir, for two great reasons:
One is, that Master Bramble may take hold
Of some suspicion that it is my wife,
And gird me so perhaps with his law wit;
The other, which is policy indeed,
Is that my wife may now be tied at home,
Having no more but her old gown abroad,
And not show me a quirk, while I firk others.
Is not this rare?
Ambo. The best that ever was.
Sec. Am I not born to furnish gentlemen?
Pet. O my dear gossip!
Sec. Well, hold, Master Francis;
Watch, when the lawyer’s out, and put it in.
Exit.
And now — I will go fetch him.
Quick. O my dad!
He goes as ‘t were the Devil to fetch the lawyer;
And devil shall he be, if horns will make him.
Re-enter SECURITY.
Pet. Why, how now, gossip? why stay you there musing?
Sec. A toy, a toy runs in my head, i’ faith.
Quick. A pox of that head! is there more toys yet?
Pet. What is it, pray thee, gossip?
Sec. Why, sir, what if you
Should slip away now with my wife’s best gown,
I having no security for it?
Quick. For that, I hope, dad, you will take our words.
Sec. Ay, by th’ mass, your word; that’s a proper staff
For wise Security to lean upon!
But ‘t is no matter; once I’ll trust my name
On your crack’d credits; let it take no shame.
Exit.
Fetch the wench, Frank.
Quick. I’ll wait upon you, sir. —
And fetch you over, you were ne’er so fetch’d.
Go to the tavern, knight; your followers
Exit.
Dare not be drunk, I think, before their captain.
Pet. Would I might lead them to no hotter service
Till our Virginian gold were in our purses!
Exit.
SCENE III
[A room in the Blue Anchor Tavern.]
Enter SEAGULL, SPENDALL, and SCAPETHRIFT, in the tavern, with a Drawer.
Seagull. Come, drawer, pierce your neatest hogsheads, and let’s have cheer, not fit for your Billingsgate tavern, but for our Virginian colonel; he will be here instantly.
Draw. You shall have all things fit, sir; please you have any more wine?
Spend. More wine, slave! Whether we drink it or no, spill it, and draw more.
Scape. Fill all the pots in your house with all sorts of liquor, and let ’em wait on us here like soldiers in their pewter coats; and, though we do not employ them now, yet we will maintain ’em till we do.
Draw. Said like an honorable captain; you shall have all you can command, sir.
Exit Drawer.
Sea. Come, boys, Virginia longs till we share the rest of her maidenhead.
Spend. Why, is she inhabited already with any English?
Sea. A whole country of English is there, man, bred of those that were left there in ‘79; they have married with the Indians, and make ’em bring forth as beautiful faces as any we have in England; and therefore the Indians are so in love with ’em that all the treasure they have they lay at their feet.
Scape. But is there such treasure there, Captain, as I have heard?
Sea. I tell thee, gold is more plentiful there than copper is with us; and for as much red copper as I can bring, I’ll have thrice the weight in gold. Why, man, all their dripping-pans and their chamber pots are pure gold; and all their chains with which they chain up their streets are massy gold; all the prisoners they take are fetter’d in gold; and, for rubies and diamonds, they go forth on holidays and gather ’em by the seashore, to hang on their children’s coats, and stick in their caps, as commonly as our children wear saffron gilt brooches and groats with holes in ’em.
Scape. And is it a pleasant country withal?
Sea. As ever the sun shin’d on; temperate, and full of all sorts of excellent viands: wild boar is as common there as our tamest bacon is here; venison, as mutton. And then you shall live freely there, without sergeants, or courtiers, or lawyers, or intelligencers, only a few industrious Scots, perhaps, who indeed are dispers’d over the face of the whole earth. But, as for them, there are no greater friends to Englishmen and England, when they are out on’t, in the world, than they are. And, for my part, I would a hundred thousand of ’em were there, for we are all one countrymen now, ye know; and we should find ten times more comfort of them there than we do here. Then, for your means to advancement there, it is simple, and not preposterously mix’d. You may be an alderman there, and never be scavenger; you may be a nobleman, and never be a slave. You may come to preferment enough, and never be a pander; to riches and fortune enough, and have never the more villainy nor the less wit.
Spend. Gods me! and how far is it thither?
Sea. Some six weeks’ sail, no more, with any indifferent good wind. And, if I get to any part of the coast of Africa, I’ll sail thither with any wind; or, when I come to Cape Finisterre, there’s a foreright wind continually wafts us till we come at Virginia. — See, our colonel’s come.
Enter SIR PETRONEL.
Pet. Well met, good Captain Seagull and my noble gentlemen! Now the sweet hour of our freedom is at hand. — Come, drawer! Fill us some carouses, a
nd prepare us for the mirth that will be occasioned presently. Here will be a pretty wench, gentlemen, that will bear us company all our voyage.
Sea. Whatsoever she be, here’s to her health, noble colonel, both with cap and knee.
Pet. Thanks, kind Captain Seagull; she’s one I love dearly and must not be known, till we be free from all that know us. And so, gentlemen, here’s to her health.
Ambo. Let it come, worthy Colonel; we do hunger and thirst for it!
Pet. Afore Heaven, you have hit the phrase of one that her presence will touch from the foot to the forehead, if ye knew it.
Spend. Why, then, we will join his forehead with her health, sir; and, Captain Scapethrift, here’s to ’em both.
Enter SECURITY and BRAMBLE.
Sec. See, see, Master Bramble, ‘fore Heaven, their voyage cannot but prosper! they are o’ their knees for success to it!
Bram. And they pray to god Bacchus.
Sec. God save my brave colonel, with all his tall captains and corporals. See, sir, my worshipful learned counsel, Master Bramble, is come to take his leave of you.
Pet. Worshipful Master Bramble, how far do you draw us into the sweet briar of your kindness! — Come, Captain Seagull, another health to this rare Bramble, that hath never a prick about him.
Sea. I pledge his most smooth disposition, sir. — Come, Master Security, bend your supporters, and pledge this notorious health here.
Sec. Bend you yours likewise, Master Bramble; for it is you shall pledge me.
Sea. Not so, Master Security; he must not pledge his own health.
Sec. No, Master Captain?
Enter QUICKSILVER, with WINNIE, disguis’d.
Why, then, here’s one is fitly come to do him that honor.
Quick. Here’s the gentlewoman your cousin, sir, whom, with much entreaty, I have brought to take her leave of you in a tavern; asham’d whereof, you must pardon her if she put not off her mask.
Pet. Pardon me, sweet Cousin; my kind desire to see you before I went made me so importunate to entreat your presence here.
Sec. How now, Master Francis, have you honor’d this presence with a fair gentlewoman?
Quick. Pray, sir, take you no notice of her, for she will not be known to you.
Sec. But my learned counsel, Master Bramble here, I hope may know her.
Quick. No more than you, sir, at this time; his learning must pardon her.
Sec. Well, God pardon her, for my part; and I do, I’ll be sworn. And so, Master Francis, here’s to all that are going eastward to-night towards Cuckold’s Haven; and so to the health of Master Bramble.
Quick. I pledge it, sir. [kneeling] Hath it gone round, captains?
Sea. It has, sweet Frank; and the round closes with thee.
Quick. Well, sir, here’s to all eastward and toward cuckolds, and so to famous Cuckold’s Haven, so fatally rememb’red.
Surgit.
Pet. [to WINIFRED] Nay, pray thee, coz, weep not. — Gossip Security.
Sec. Ay, my brave gossip.
Pet. A word, I beseech you, sir. — [aside] Our friend, Mistress Bramble here, is so dissolv’d in tears, that she drowns the whole mirth of our meeting. Sweet gossip, take her aside and comfort her.
Sec. [aside to WINIFRED] Pity of all true love, Mistress Bramble; what, weep you to enjoy your love? What’s the cause, lady? Is ‘t because your husband is so near, and your heart earns to have a little abus’d him? Alas, alas! the offence is too common to be respected. So great a grace hath seldom chanc’d to so unthankful a woman; to be rid of an old jealous dotard, to enjoy the arms of a loving young knight, that, when your prickless Bramble is withered with grief of your loss, will make you flourish afresh in the bed of a lady.
Re-enter Drawer.
Draw. Sir Petronel, here’s one of your watermen come to tell you it will be flood these three hours; and that ‘t will be dangerous going against the tide; for the sky is overcast, and there was a porpoise even now seen at London Bridge, which is always the messenger of tempests, he says.
Pet. A porpoise! — what’s that to th’ purpose? Charge him, if he love his life, to attend us. Can we not reach Blackwall, where my ship lies, against the tide, and in spite of tempests? Captains and gentlemen, we’ll begin a new ceremony at the beginning of our voyage, which I believe will be follow’d of all future adventurers.
Sea. What’s that, good Colonel?
Pet. This, Captain Seagull. We’ll have our provided supper brought aboard Sir Francis Drake’s ship, that hath compass’d the world; where, with full cups and banquets, we will do sacrifice for a prosperous voyage. My mind gives me that some good spirits of the waters should haunt the desert ribs of her, and be auspicious to all that honor her memory, and will with like orgies enter their voyages.
Sea. Rarely conceited! One health more to this motion, and aboard to perform it. He that will not this night be drunk, may he never be sober.
They compass in WINIFRED, dance
the drunken round, and drink
carouses.
Bram. Sir Petronel and his honorable captains, in these young services we old servitors may be spar’d. We only came to take our leaves, and, with one health to you all, I’ll be bold to do so. Here, neighbor Security, to the health of Sir Petronel and all his captains.
Sec. You must bend, then, Master Bramble. [They kneel.] So, now I am for you. I have one corner of my brain, I hope, fit to bear one carouse more. Here, lady, to you that are encompass’d there, and are asham’d of our company. [They drink, and rise.] Ha, ha, ha! by my troth, my learn’d counsel, Master Bramble, my mind runs so of Cuckold’s Haven to-night that my head runs over with admiration.
Bram. [aside to SECURITY] But is not that your wife, neighbor?
Sec. [aside to BRAMBLE.] No, by my troth, Master Bramble. Ha, ha, ha! A pox of all Cuckold’s Havens, I say!
Bram. [aside to SECURITY] A’ my faith, her garments are exceeding like your wife’s.
Sec. Cucullus non facit monachum, my learned counsel; all are not cuckolds that seem so; nor all seem not that are so. Give me your hand, my learn’d counsel; you and I will sup somewhere else than at Sir Francis Drake’s ship to-night. — Adieu, my noble gossip!
Bram. Good fortune, brave captains; fair skies God send ye!
Omnes. Farewell, my hearts, farewell!
Pet. Gossip, laugh no more at Cuckold’s Haven, gossip.
Sec. I have done, I have done, sir. — Will you lead, Master Bramble? Ha, ha, ha!
Pet. Captain Seagull, charge a boat.
Omnes. A boat, a boat, a boat!
Exeunt all except Drawer.
Draw. Y’ are in a proper taking indeed, to take a boat, especially at this time of night, and against tide and tempest. They say yet, “Drunken
Exit.
men never take harm.” This night will try the truth of that proverb.
SCENE IV
[SECURITY’S house.]
Enter SECURITY.
Sec. What, Winnie! — Wife, I say! — Outdoors at this time! Where should I seek the gadfly? — Billingsgate, Billingsgate, Billingsgate! She’s gone with the knight, she’s gone with the knight! woe be to thee, Billingsgate! — A boat! a boat! a boat! a full hundred marks for a boat!
Exit.
ACT IV
SCENE I
[Cuckold’s Haven.]
Enter SLITGUT with a pair of ox-horns, discovering Cuckold’s Haven above.
Slit. All hail, fair haven of married men only! for there are none but married men cuckolds. For my part, I presume not to arrive here but in my master’s behalf, a poor butcher of Eastcheap, who sends me to set up, in honor of Saint Luke, these necessary ensigns of his homage. And up I got this morning, thus early, to get up to the top of this famous tree, that is all fruit and no leaves, to advance this crest of my master’s occupation. Up then! — Heaven and Saint Luke bless me, that I be not blown into the Thames as I climb, with this furious tempest. ‘Slight! I think the Devil be abroad, in likeness of a storm,
to rob me of my horns! Hark how he roars! Lord! what a coil the Thames keeps! She bears some unjust burthen, I believe, that she kicks and curvets thus to cast it. Heaven bless all honest passengers that are upon her back now; for the bit is out of her mouth, I see, and she will run away with ’em! — So, so! I think I have made it look the right way. — It runs against London Bridge, as it were, even full butt. And now let me discover from this lofty prospect, what pranks the rude Thames plays in her desperate lunacy. O me! here’s a boat has been cast away hard by. Alas, alas, see one of her passengers laboring for his life to land at this haven here! Pray Heaven he may recover it! His next land is even just under me. — Hold out yet a little; whatsoever thou art, pray, and take a good heart to thee.— ‘T is a man; — take a man’s heart to thee; yet a little further, get up a’ thy legs, man; now ‘t is shallow enough. So, so, so! Alas! he’s down again. Hold thy wind, father.— ‘T is a man in a nightcap. So! now he’s got up again; now he’s past the worst: yet, thanks be to Heaven, he comes toward me pretty and strongly.
Enter SECURITY, without his hat, in a nightcap, wet band, etc.
Sec. Heaven, I beseech thee, how have I offended thee! where am I cast ashore now, that I may go a righter way home by land? Let me see; Oh, I am scarce able to look about me. Where is there any sea-mark that I am acquainted withal?
Slit. Look up, father; are you acquainted with this mark?
Sec. What! landed at Cuckold’s Haven? Hell and damnation! I will run
He falls down.
back and drown myself.
Slit. Poor man, how weak he is! the weak water has wash’d away his strength.
Sec. Landed at Cuckold’s Haven! If it had not been to die twenty times alive, I should never have ‘scap’d death! I will never arise more; I will grovel here and eat dirt till I be chok’d; I will make the gentle earth do that which the cruel water has denied me.
Slit. Alas, good father, be not so desperate! Rise man; if you will, I’ll come presently and lead you home.
Sec. Home! shall I make any know my home that has known me thus abroad? How low shall I crouch away, that no eye may see me? I will creep on the earth while I live, and never look heaven in the face more.
Exit, creeping.
Slit. What young planet reigns now, trow, that old men are so foolish? What desperate young swaggerer would have been abroad such a weather as this, upon the water? — Ay me, see another remnant of this unfortunate shipwrack! — or some other. A woman, i’ faith, a woman; though it be almost at Saint Kath’rine’s, I discern it to be a woman, for all her body is above the water, and her clothes swim about her most handsomely. Oh, they bear her up most bravely! Has not a woman reason to love the taking up of her clothes the better while she lives, for this? Alas, how busy the rude Thames is about her! A pox a’ that wave! It will drown her, i’ faith, ‘t will drown her! Cry God mercy, she has scap’d it! I thank Heaven she has scap’d it! Oh, how she swims, like a mermaid! Some vigilant body look out and save her. That’s well said; just where the priest fell in, there’s one sets down a ladder, and goes to take her up. God’s blessing a’ thy heart, boy! Now take her up in thy arms and to bed with her. She’s up, she’s up! She’s a beautiful woman, I warrant her; the billows durst not devour her.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 187