Friend. So, sir!
Quick. To the tune of “I wail in woe, I plunge in pain.”
Pet. An excellent ditty it is, and worthy of a new tune.
Quick.
In Cheapside, famous for gold and plate,
Quicksilver, I did dwell of late;
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!
Friend. Excellent, excellent well!
Gold. [aside] O, let him alone. He is taken already.
Quick.
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 —
Pet. I thank you, Francis.
Quick.
I thought by sea to run away,
But Thames and tempest did me stay.
Touch. [aside] This cannot be feigned sure. Heaven pardon my severity! “The ragged colt may prove a good horse.”
Gold. [aside] How he listens! and is transported! He has forgot me.
Quick.
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,
And I saw then what ‘long’d unto ‘t;
Now cry I, “Touchstone, touch me still,
And make me current by thy skill.”
Touch. [aside] And I will do it, Francis.
Wolf. [aside to GOLDING] Stay him, Master Deputy; now is the time: we shall lose the song else.
Friend. I protest it is the best that ever I heard.
Quick. How like you it, gentlemen?
All. Oh, admirable, sir!
Quick. This stanza now following alludes to the story of Mannington, from whence I took my project for my invention.
Friend. Pray you go on, sir.
Quick.
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
Of sin’s highway and bogs of lust,
Whereby I may take Virtue’s purse,
And live with her for better, for worse.
Friend. Admirable, sir, and excellently conceited!
Quick. Alas, sir!
Touch. [aside] 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.
Friend. Forth, good sir.
Quick. 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 warned by my fall:
Shun usurers, bawds, and dice, and drabs;
Avoid them as you would French scabs.
Seek not to go beyond your tether,
But cut your thongs unto your leather;
So shall you thrive by little and little,
Scape Tyburn, Counters, and the Spital.
Touch. [coming forward] And scape them shalt thou, my penitent and dear Francis!
Quick. Master!
Pet. Father!
Touch. I can no longer forbear to do your humility right. Arise, and let me honor your repentance with the hearty and joyful embraces of a father and friend’s love. Quicksilver, thou hast ate into my breast, Quicksilver, with the drops of thy sorrow, and kill’d the desperate opinion I had of thy reclaim.
Quick. Oh, sir, I am not worthy to see your worshipful face!
Pet. Forgive me, Father.
Touch. 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, and SECURITY appears at the grating.
Sec. Master Touchstone! Master Touchstone!
Touch. Who’s that?
Wolf. Security, sir.
Sec. Pray you, sir, if you’ll be won with a song, hear my lamentable tune too:
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;
For which, again I tell you,
My heart is full of woe.
Touch. 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 encount’red with more suitors.
Enter MISTRESS TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED, SINDEFY, and WINIFRED; and WOLF with SECURITY.
Save your breath, save your breath! All things have succeeded to your wishes; and we are heartily satisifed in their events.
Ger. Ah, runaway, runaway! have I caught you? And how has my poor knight done all this while?
Pet. Dear Lady-wife, forgive me!
Ger. 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 rais’d to the state of a wanton coy thing, call’d a lady, Father, have scorn’d 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 taborer; and that my mother was but my midwife.
Mist. T. Now, God forgi’ you, child madam!
Touch. No more repetitions. What is else wanting to make our harmony full?
Gold. Only this, sir, that my fellow Francis make amends to Mistress Sindefy with marriage.
Quick. With all my heart.
Gold. And Security give her a dower, which shall be all the restitution he shall make of that huge mass he hath so unlawfully gotten.
Touch. Excellently devis’d! a good motion! What says Master Security?
Sec. I say anything, sir, what you’ll ha’ me say. Would I were no cuckold!
Win. Cuckold, husband? Why, I think this wearing of yellow has infected you.
Touch. Why, Master Security, that should rather be a comfort to you than a corrosive. 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 eas’d 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.
Sec. I am resolv’d, sir. Come hither, Winny.
Touch. Well, then, all are pleas’d; or shall be anon. Master Wolf, you look hungry, methinks. Have you no apparel to lend Francis, to shift him?
Quick. 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.
Touch. 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;
The usurer punish’d, and from fall so steep
The prodigal child reclaim’d, and the lost sheep.
THE EPILOGUE
Quick. 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 stuck with people, and the windows fill’d with ladies, as on the solemn day of the pageant! —
Oh, 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,
May this attract you hither once a week.
Exeunt.
MAY DAY
A COMEDY FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1611
CONTENTS
ACTUS PRIMA.
SCAENA PRIMA.
ACTUS SECUNDI,
SCAENA PRIMA.
ACTUS TERTIUS.
ACTUS QUARTUS.
ACTUS QUINTUS.
ACTUS PRIMA.
SCAENA PRIMA.
Chorus Iuuenum cantantes & saltantes.
Exeunt saltan.
Interim, Intrat Lorenzo, Papers in his hand.
Lor.
WELL done my lusty bloods, Well done. Fit, fit obseruance for this May-morning; Not the May-Moneth alone, they take when it comes; Nor the first weeke of that Moneth; Nor the first day; but the first minute of the first houre, of the first day. Loose no time bloods, loose no time; though the Sunne goe to bedde neuer so much before you, yet be you vp before him; call the golden sluggard from the siluer armes of his Lady, to light you into yours, when your old father Ianuary here in one of his last dayes, thrusts his fore-head into the depth of Mayes fragrant bosome: What may you Aprilles performe then? O what may you doe? Well yet will I say thus much for my selfe, wheresoeuer the affections of youth are, there must needs be the instruments, and where the instruments are, there must of necessity be the faculties; What am I short of them then? A sound old man, ably constituted, holsomly dyeted, that tooke his May temperately at their ages, and continued his owne; why should he not continue their ages in his owne? By the Masse I feele nothing that stands against it, and therefore sweet May I salute thee with the yongest: I haue loue to employ thee in, as well as the prowdest yong princock, and so haue at you Mistris Frances China: haue at you Mistris Franke: I’ [...]e sprede my nets for you yfaith, though they be my very purse nets, wherein what heart will not willingly lye panting?
(Enter Angelo.)
Ang.
How now? Gods my life, I wonder what made this May-morning so cold, and now I see ’tis this Ianuary that intrudes into it; what paper is that he holds in hand trow we?
Lor.
Here haue I put her face in rime, but I feare my old vaine will not stretch to her contentment. O haire, no haire but beames stolne from the Sunne.
Ang.
Out vpon her, if it be shee that I thinke, shee has a Fox red cranion;
Lor.
A fore-head that disdaines the name of faire.
Ang.
And reason, for ’tis a folwe one.
Lor.
A matchlesse eye.
Ang.
True, her eyes be not matches.
Lor.
A cheeke, vermillion red.
Ang.
Painted I warrant you.
Lor.
A farre commanding mouth.
Ang.
It stretches to her eares in deede.
Lor.
A nose made out of waxe.
Ang.
A red nose, in sincerity.
Lor.
This could I send, but person, person does it: A good presence, to beare out a good wit; a good face, a prety Court legge, and a deft dapper personage, no superfluous dimensions, but fluent in competence; for it is not Hector but Paris, not the full armefull, but the sweet handfull that Ladies delight in.
Ang.
O notable old whyniard.
Lor.
Such a size of humanity now, and braine enough in it, it is not in the strength of a woman to withstand; well shee may hold out a parl [...]e or two, for ’tis a weake fort that obeyes at the first or second summons, if shee resist the third shee is discharg’d, though shee yeeld in future: for then it appeares it was no fault of hers: but the man that would take no deniall. What rests now? meanes for accesse: True. O an honest Baude were worth gold now.
Ang.
A plague vpon him, I had thought to haue appear’d to him, but now if I doe, he will take me for the man he talks on: I will therefore post by his dull eye-sight, as in hast of businesse.
Lor.
What Signior Angelo? soft I command you.
Ang.
Gods precious, what meane you Sir?
Lor.
I would be loth to be out-runne I assure you Sir: was I able to stay you?
Ang.
Your ability stood too stiffe Sir, beshrow me else.
Lor.
O most offencelesse fault, I would thou would’st blaze my imperfection to one thou know’st, yfaith.
Ang.
Well Sir another time, tell me where shee is, and Ile doe so much for you gratis. Good morrow Sir.
Lor.
Nay stay good Angelo.
Ang.
My businesse sayes nay Sir, you haue made me stay to my paine Sir, I thanke you.
Lor.
Not a whit man I warrant thee.
Ang.
Goe to then, briefly, to whom shall I commend your imperfections, will you tell me if I name her?
Lor.
That I will, y [...]aith Boy.
Ang.
Is not her haire, no haire, but beames stolne from the Sunne?
Lor.
Blacke, blacke as an Ouzell.
Ang.
A fore-head that disdaines the name of faire.
Lor.
Away Witch, away:
Ang.
A matchlesse eye.
Lor.
Nay fie, fie, fie. I see th’art a very Deuill Angelo. And in earnest, I iested, when I said my desire of thy friendship touch’d my selfe, for it concernes a friend of mine iust of my standing.
Ang.
To whom then would he be remembred that I can sollicite?
Lor.
To sweet Mistris Franciscina: with whom I heare thou art ready to lye downe, thou art so great with her.
Ang.
I am as great as a neare Kinseman may be with her Sir, not otherwise:
Lor.
A good consanguinity: and good Angelo, to her with thou deliuer from my friend, in all secrecy, these poore brace of bracelets?
Ang.
Perhaps I will Sir, when I know what the Gentleman and his intent is.
Lor.
Neuer examine that man; I would not trouble you with carrying too much at once to her, only tell her, such a man will resolue her, naming me: and I doe not greatly care, if I take the paines to come to her, so I stay not long, and be let in priuily: and so without making many wordes: here they be▪ put them vp closely I beseech thee, and deliuer them as closely.
Ang.
Well Sir, I loue no contention with friends, and therefore pocket many things, that otherwise I would not: but I pray Sir licen [...]e me a question. Doe not I know this Gentleman that offers my Cozen this kindnesse?
Lor.
Neuer saw’st him in thy life, at least neuer knew’st him; but for his bounty sake to all his well willers, if this message be friendly discharged, I may chance put a deare friend of him into your bosome: Sir, and make you profitably acquainted.
Ang.
But I pray you Sir, is he not a well elderly Gentleman?
Lor.
Wide, wide; as yong as day, I protest to thee.
Ang.
I know he is yong too, but that is in ability of b
ody, but is he not a prety little squat Gentleman, as you shall see amongst a thousand?
Lor.
Still from the cushion, still, tall and high, like a Cedar.
Ang.
I know he is tall also, but it is in his minde Sir, and it is not Hector but Paris, not thy full armefull, but the sweet handfull that a Lady delights to dandle.
Lor.
Now the good Deuill take thee, if there be any such in hell, hell I beseech thee.
Ang.
Well, well Signior Lorenzo, yfaith the litle Squire is thought to be as parlesse a peece of flesh, for a peece of flesh, as any hunts the hole pale of Venus I protest t’ee.
Lor.
I cannot containe my selfe, yfaith Boy, if the Wenches come in my walke, I giue ’em that they come for, I dally not with hem.
Ang.
I know you doe not Sir, his dallying dayes be done.
Lor.
It is my infirmity, and I cannot doe withall, to die for’t.
Ang.
I beleeue you Sir.
Lor.
There are certaine enuious old fellowes, my neighbours, that say, I am one vnwieldly and stiffe: Angelo, didst euer heare any wench complaine of my stiffenesse?
Ang.
Neuer in my life: your old neighbours measure you by themselues.
Lor.
Why ther’s the matter then?
Ang.
But yfaith Sir: doe you euer hope to winne your purpose at my losing hands, knowing her (as all the world does) a woman of that approued lowlynesse of life, and so generally tryed?
Lor.
As for that take thou no care, shee’s a woman, is shee not?
Ang.
Sure I doe take her to haue the flesh and blood of a woman.
Lor.
Then good enough, or then bad enough, this token shall be my Gentleman Vsher to prepare my accesse, and then let me alone with her.
Ang.
I marry Sir, I thinke you would be alone with her; Well Sir, I will doe my best, but if your Gentleman Vsher should not get entrance for you now, it would be a griefe to me.
(Enter Gasparo an old Clowne.)
Lor.
Feare it not man: Gifts and gold, take the strong’st hold; Away, here comes a snudge that must be my sonne in law: I would be loth he should suspect these tricks of youth in me, for feare he feare my daughter will trot after me.
Ang.
Fare you well Sir.
Exit.
Gasp.
Godge you God morrow Sir, godge you God morrow.
Lor.
God morrow neighbour Gasparo: I haue talk’t with my daughter, whom I doe yet finde a greene yong plant, and therefore vnapt to beare such ripe fruit, I thinke I might haue said rotten, as your selfe: But shee is at my disposition, and shall be at yours in the end, here’s my hand, and with my hand take hers.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 191