Volpone and Other Plays

by Ben Jonson

  THE

  PROLOGUE

  TO

  THE KING’S

  MAJESTY

  Your Majesty is welcome to a Fair;

  Such place, such men, such language and such ware,

  You must expect; with these the zealous noise

  Of your land’s faction, scandalized at toys,

  As babies, hobby-horses, puppet-plays,

  And such like rage, whereof the petulant ways

  Yourself have known, and have been vexed with long.

  These for your sport, without particular wrong,

  Or just complaint of any private man

  Who of himself or shall think well or can,

  The maker doth present, and hopes tonight

  To give you for a fairing true delight.

  THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

  JOHN LITTLBWIT, a Proctor

  SOLOMON, his Man

  [MISTRESS] WIN LITTLEWIT, his Wife

  DAME PURECRAFT, her Mother and a Widow

  ZEAL-OF-THE-LAND BUSY, her Suitor, a Banbury man

  [NED] WINWIFE, his Rival, a Gentleman

  [TOM] OUARLOUS, his Companion, a Gamester

  BARTHOLOMEW COKES, an Esquire of Harrow

  HUMPHREY WASP, his Man

  ADAM OVERDO, a Justice of Peace

  DAME OVERDO, his Wife

  GRACE WELLBORN, his Ward

  LANTERN LEATHERHEAD, a Hobby-horse-seller

  JOAN TRASH, a Gingerbread-woman

  EZEKIEL EDGWORTH, a Cutpurse

  NIGHTINGALE, a Ballad-singer

  URSULA, a Pig-woman

  MOONCALF, her Tapster

  JORDAN KNOCKEM, a Horse-courser and Ranger o’ Tumball

  VAL CUTTING, a Roarer

  CAPTAIN WHIT, a Bawd

  PUNK ALICE, Mistress o’ the Game

  TROUBLE-ALL, a Madman

  TOBY HAGGIES and DAVY BRISTLE Watchmen, three

  POACHER, a Beadle

  COSTER-MONGER

  PASSENGERS

  proctor: a law agent or attorney.

  gamester: gambler, play-boy ot rake (see also Surly in The Alchemist).

  Cokes: proverbial name for a booby.

  horse-courser: a dealer in horses already ridden.

  ranger: keeper of a park; synonym for ‘gamester’.

  ranger: bully, roisterer.

  the game: prostitution.

  coster-monger: apple-seller.

  CORN-CUTTER

  TINDERBOX-MAN

  NORTHERN, a Clothier

  PUPPY, a Wrestler

  PILCHER AND SHAKKWELL, Door-keepers

  PUPPETS

  [The Persons in the Induction:

  STAGE-KEEPER

  BOOK-HOLDER

  SCRIVENER]

  [Enter STAGE-KEEPER.]

  [STAGE-KEEPER:] Gentlemen, have a little patience, they are e’ en upon coming, instantly. He that should begin the play, Master Littlewit, the Proctor, has a stitch new fall’ n in his black silk stocking; ‘twill be drawn up ere you can tell twenty. He plays one o’ the Arches, that dwells about the Hospital, and he has a very pretty part. But for the whole play, will you ha’ the truth on’t? (I am looking, lest the poet hear me, or his man, Master Brome, behind the arras) it is like to be a very conceited scurvy one, in plain English. When’t comes to the Fair once, you were e’ en as good go to Virginia, for anything there is of Smithfield.

  10 He has not hit the humours, he does not know ’em; he has not conversed with the Barthol’ mew–birds, as they say; he has ne’ er a sword-and-buckler man in his Fair, nor a little Davy to take toll o’ the bawds there, as in my time, nor a Kindheart, if anybody’s teeth should chance to ache in his play. Nor a juggler with a well-educated ape to come over the chain for the King of England and back again for the Prince, and sit still on his arse for the Pope and the King of Spain! None o’ these fine sights! Nor has he the canvas-cut i’ the night for a hobby-horse-man to creep in to his she-neighbour and take his leap there! Nothing!

  20 No, an’ some writer (that I know) had had but the penning o’ this matter, he would ha’ made you such a jig-a-jog i’ the booths, you should ha’ thought an earthquake had been i’ the Fair! But these master-poets, they will ha’ their own absurd courses; they will be informed of nothing! He has, sir reverence, kicked me three or four times about the tiring-house, I thank him, for but offering to put in, with my experience. I’ ll be judged by you, gentlemen, now, but for one conceit of mine! Would not a fine pump upon the stage ha’ done well for a property now? And a

  30 punk set under upon her head, with her stern upward, and ha’ been soused by my witty young masters o’ the Inns o’ Court? What think you o’ this for a show, now? He will not hear o’ this! I am an ass, I? And yet I kept the stage in Master Tarlton’s time, I thank my stars. Ho! an’ that man had lived to have played in Barthol’ mew Fair, you should ha’ seen him ha’ come in, and ha’ been cozened i’ the cloth-quarter, so finely! And Adams, the rogue, ha’ leaped and capered upon him, and ha’ dealt his vermin about as though they had cost him nothing. And then a substantial watch to ha’ stol’ n in upon ’em, and taken ’em away

  40 with mistaking words, as the fashion is in the stage-practice.

  [Enter] BOOK-HOLDER [and] SCRIVENER to him.

  BOOK-HOLDER: How now? What rare discourse you are fall’ n upon, ha! Ha’ you found any familiars here, that you are so free? What’s the business?

  STAGE-KEEPER: Nothing, but the understanding gentlemen o’ the ground here asked my judgement.

  BOOK-HOLDER: Your judgement, rascal? For what? Sweeping the stage? Or gathering up the broken apples for the bears with in? Away rogue, it’s come to a fine degree in these spectacles when such a youth as you pretend to a judgement.

  [Exit STAGE-KEEPER.]

  50 And yet he may, i’ the most o’ this matter i’ faith; for the author hath writ it just to his meridian, and the scale of the grounded judgements here, his play-fellows in wit. – Gentlemen, not for want of a prologue, but by way of a new one, I am sent out to you here with a scrivener, and certain articles drawn out in haste between our author and you; which if you please to hear, and as they appear reasonable, to approve of, the play will follow presently. Read, scribe, gi’ me the counterpane.

  SCRIVENER [reading]: ‘Articles of Agreement indented between the spectators or hearers at the Hope on the Bankside, in the county of Surrey, on the one party, and the author of Barthol’ –

  60 mew Fair in the said place and county, on the other party, the one and thirtieth day of October 1614, and in the twelfth year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord, James, by the grace of God King of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith; and of Scotland the seven and fortieth.

  ‘INPRIMIS, It is covenanted and agreed, by and between the parties above-said, and the said spectators and hearers, as well the curious and envious as the favouring and judicious, as also the grounded judgements and under-standings do for themselves severally covenant and agree, to remain in the places their

  70 money or friends have put them in, with patience, for the space of two hours and an half and somewhat more. In which time the author promiseth to present them, by us, with a new sufficient play called Barthol’ mew Fair, merry, and as full of noise as sport, made to delight all, and to offend none; provided they have either the wit or the honesty to think well of themselves.

  ‘It is further agreed that every person here have his or their free-will of censure, to like or dislike at their own charge, the author having now departed with his right: it shall be lawful for any man to judge his six pen’orth, his twelve pen’ orth, so to

  80 his eighteen pence, two shillings, half a crown, to the value of his place; provided always his place get not above his wit. And if he pay for half a dozen, he may censure for all them too, so that he will undertake that they shall be silent. He shall put in for censures here as they do for lots at the lottery; marry, if he drop but sixpence at the door, and will censure a crown’s worth, it is tho
ught there is no conscience or justice in that.

  ‘It is also agreed that every man here exercise his own judgement, and not censure by contagion, or upon trust, from

  90 another’s voice or face that sits by him, be he never so first in the commission of wit, as also, that he be fixed and settled in his censure, that what he approves or not approves today, he will do the same tomorrow, and if tomorrow, the next day, and so the next week (if need be), and not to be brought about by any that sits on the bench with him, though they indict and arraign plays daily. He that will swear Jeronimo or Andronicus are the best plays yet, shall pass unexcepted at here as a man whose judgement shows it is constant, and hath stood still these five and twenty, or thirty years. Though it be an ignorance, it is a

  100 virtuous and staid ignorance; and next to truth, a confirmed error does well; such a one the author knows where to find him.

  ‘It is further covenanted, concluded, and agreed that how great soever the expectation be, no person here is to expect more than he knows, or better ware than a Fair will afford; neither to look back to the Sword-and-buckler age of Smithfield, but content himself with the present. Instead of a little Davy to take toll o’ the bawds, the author doth promise a strutting horsecourser with a leer drunkard, two or three to attend him in as good equipage as you would wish. And then for Kindheart, the tooth-drawer,

  110 a fine oily pig-woman with her tapster to bid you welcome, and a consort of roarers for music. A wise Justice of Peace meditant, instead of a juggler with an ape. A civil cut-purse searchant. A sweet singer of new ballads allurant; and as fresh an hypocrite as ever was broached rampant. If there be never a servant-monster i’ the Fair, who can help it? he says; nor a nest of antics? He is loth to make nature afraid in his plays, like those that beget Tales, Tempests, and such like drolleries, to mix his head with other men’s heels, let the concupiscence of jigs and dances reign as strong as it will amongst you; yet if the puppets

  120 will please anybody, they shall be entreated to come in.

  ‘In consideration of which, it is finally agreed by the foresaid hearers and spectators that they neither in themselves conceal, nor suffer by them to be concealed, any state-decipherer, or politic picklock of the scene, so solemnly ridiculous as to search out who was meant by the Gingerbread-woman, who by the Hobby-horse-man, who by the Costermonger, nay, who by their wares. Or that will pretend to affirm, on his own inspired ignorance, what Mirror of Magistrates is meant by the Justice, what great lady by the Pig-woman, what concealed statesman by the Seller of Mousetraps, and so of the rest. But that such

  130 person or persons, so found, be left discovered to the mercy of the author, as a forfeiture to the stage and your laughter aforesaid. As also, such as shall so desperately or ambitiously play the fool by his place aforesaid, to challenge the author of scurrility because the language somewhere savours of Smithfield, the booth, and the pig-broth; or of profaneness because a madman cries, “God quit you”, or “bless you”. In witness whereof, as you have preposterously put to your seals already (which is your money), you will now add the other part of suffrage, your hands. The play shall presently begin. And though the

  140 Fair be not kept in the same region that some here, perhaps, would have it, yet think that therein the author hath observed a special decorum, the place being as dirty as Smithfield, and as stinking every whit.

  ‘Howsoever, he prays you to believe his ware is still the same; else you will make him justly suspect that he that is so loath to look on a baby or an hobby – horse here, would be glad to take up a commodity of them, at any laughter, or loss, in another place.’

  [Exeunt.]

  ACT ONE

  I,i [Littlewit’s house.]

  [Enter JOHN LITTLEWIT, holding a licence.]

  [LITTLEWIT:] A pretty conceit, and worth the finding! I ha’ such luck to spin out these fine things still, and like a silk-worm, out of myself. Here’s Master Barthol’60 mew Cokes, of Harrow o’ th’ Hill, i’ th’ County of Middlesex, Esquire, takes forth his licence to marry Mistress Grace Wellborn of the said place and county –and when does he take it forth? Today! The four and twentieth of August! Barthol’ mew Day! Barthol’ mew upon Barthol’ mew! There’s the device! Who would have marked such a leapfrog chance now? A very less than ames-ace on two dice! Well, go thy ways, John Littlewit, Proctor John Littlewit – one o’ the

  10 pretty wits o’ Paul’s, the Little-wit of London (so thou art called) and something beside. When a quirk or a quiblin does ‘scape thee, and thou dost not watch, and apprehend it, and bring it afore the constable of conceit (there now, I speak quib too), let ’em carry thee out o’ the archdeacon’s court into his kitchen, and make a Jack of thee, instead of a John. (There I am again, la!)

  [Enter MISTRESS LITTLEWIT.]

  Win, good morrow, Win. Ay marry, Win! Now you look finely indeed, Win! This cap does convince! You’ d not ha’ worn

  20 it, Win, nor ha’ had it velvet, but a rough country beaver with a copper band, like the coney-skin woman of Budge Row! Sweet Win, let me kiss it! And her fine high shoes, like the Spanish lady! Good Win, go a little; I would fain see thee pace, pretty Win! By this fine cap, I could never leave kissing on’t.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Come, indeed la, you are such a fool, still!

  LITTLBWIT: No, but half a one, Win; you are the tother half: man and wife make one fool, Win. (Good!) Is there the proctor,

  30 or doctor indeed, i’ the diocese, that ever had the fortune to win him such a Win! (There I am again!) I do feel conceits coming upon me, more than I am able to turn tongue to. A pox o’ these pretenders to wit, your Three Cranes, Mitre, and Mermaid men! Not a corn of true salt nor a grain of right mustard amongst them all. They may stand for places or so, again’ the next witfall, and pay twopence in a quart more for their canary than other men. But gi’ me the man can start up a justice of wit out of six-shillings beer, and give the law to all the poets and poet-suckers i’town, because they are the players’ gossips! ‘Slid,

  40 other men have wives as fine as the players, and as well dressed. Come hither, Win.

  [He kisses her.]

  I, ii [Enter NED WINWIFE.]

  [WINWIFE:] Why, how now, Master Littlewit? Measuring of lips or moulding of kisses? Which is it?

  LITTLEWIT: Troth, I am a little taken with my Win’s dressing here! Does’t not fine, Master Winwife? How do you apprehend, sir? She would not ha’ worn this habit. I challenge all Cheapside to show such another – Moorfields, Pimlico path, or the Exchange, in a summer evening – with a lace to boot, as this has. Dear Win, let Master Winwife kiss you. He comes a-wooing to our mother, Win, and may be our father perhaps, Win.

  10 There’s no harm in him, Win.

  WINWIFE: None i’ the earth, Master Littlewit.

  [He kisses her.]

  LITTLEWIT: I envy no man my delicates, sir.

  WINWIFE: Alas, you ha’ the garden where they grow still! A wife here with a strawberry-breath, cherry-lips, apricot-cheeks, and a soft velvet head, like a melicotton.

  LITTLEWIT: Good i’ faith! Now dullness upon me, that I had not that before him, that I should not light on’t as well as he! Velvet head!

  WINWIFE: But my taste, Master Littlewit, tends to fruit of a later kind: the sober matron, your wife’s mother.

  20 LITTLEWIT: Ay! we know you are a suitor, sir. Win and I both wish you well; by this licence here, would you had her, that your two names were as fast in it, as here are a couple. Win would fain have a fine young father i’ law with a feather, that her mother might hood it and chain it with Mistress Overdo. But you do not take the right course, Master Winwife.

  WINWIFE: No, Master Littlewit, Why?

  LITTLEWIT: You are not mad enough.

  WINWIFE: How? Is madness a right course?

  LITTLEWIT: I say nothing, but I wink upon Win. You have

  30 a friend, one Master Quarlous, comes here sometimes?

  WINWIFE: Why? he makes no love to her, does he?

&nb
sp; LITTLEWIT: Not a tokenworth that ever I saw, I assure you, but –

  WINWIFE: What?

  LITTLEWIT: He is the more madcap o’ the two. You do not apprehend me.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: You have a hot coal i’ your mouth now, you cannot hold.

  LITTLEWIT: Let me out with it, dear Win.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: I’ ll tell him myself.

  40 LITTLEWIT: Do, and take all the thanks, and much good do thy pretty heart, Win.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Sir, my mother has had her nativity-water cast lately by the cunning-men in Cow Lane, and they ha’ told her her fortune, and do ensure her she shall never have happy hour, unless she marry within this sen’ night, and when it is, it must be a madman, they say.

  LITTLEWIT: Ay, but it must be a gentleman madman.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Yes, so the tother man of Moorfields says.

  50 WINWIFE: But does she believe ’ em?

  DITTLEWIT: Yes, and has been at Bedlam twice since, every day, to inquire if any gentleman be there, or to come there, mad!

  WINWIFE: Why, this is a confederacy, a mere piece of practice upon her, by these impostors!

  LITTLEWIT: I tell her so; or else say I that they mean some young madcap-gentleman (for the devil can equivocate as well as a shopkeeper) and therefore would I advise you to be a little madder than Master Quarlous, hereafter.

  WINWIFE: Where is she? Stirring yet?

  60 LITTLEWIT: Stirring! Yes, and studying an old elder, come from Banbury, a suitor that puts in here at meal-tide, to praise the painful Brethren, or pray that the sweet singers may be restored; says a grace as long as his breath lasts him! Sometime the spirit is so strong with him, it gets quite out of him, and then my mother, or Win, are fain to fetch it again with malmsey, or aquacelestis.