Volpone and Other Plays

by Ben Jonson

  60 I call’t my Fair because of Barthol’ mew: you know my name is Barthol’ mew, and Barthol’ mew fair.

  LITTLEWIT: That was mine afore, gentlemen – this morning. I had that i’ faith, upon his licence; believe me, there he comes after me.

  QUARLOUS: Come, John, This ambitious wit of yours, I am afraid, will do you no good i’ the end.

  LITTLEWIT: No? why sir?

  QUARLOUS: You grow so insolent with it, and overdoing, john, that if you look not to it, and tie it up, it will bring you to some

  70 obscure place in time, and there ’twill leave you.

  WINWIPB: Do not trust it too much, John; be more sparing, and use it but now and then. A wit is a dangerous thing in this age; do not over-buy it.

  LITTLEWIT: Think you so, gendemen? I’ ll take heed on’t here after.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Yes, do, John.

  COKES: A Pretty little soul, this same Mistress Littlewit! Would 1 might marry her.

  GRACE [aside]: So would I, or anybody else, so I might ’scape you.

  80 COKES: Numps, I will see it, Numps, ’tis decreed. Never be melancholy for the matter.

  WASP: Why, see it, sir, do see it! Who hinders you? Why do you not go see it? ’ slid, see it.

  COKBS: The fair, numps, the fair!

  WASP: Would the Fair and all the drums and rattles in’t were i’ your belly for me! They are already i’ your brain; he that had the means to travel your head, now, should meet finer sights than any are i’ the fair, and make a finer voyage on’t, to see it all hung with cockle-shells, pebbles, fine wheat-straws, and here

  90 and there a chicken’s feather and a cobweb.

  QUARLOUS: Good faith, he looks, methinks, an’ you mark him,

  like one that were made to catch flies, with his Sir Cranion legs.

  WINWIFE: And his Numps to flap ’ em away.

  WASP: God be w’ you, sir. There’s your bee in a box, and much good do’t you.

  [Gives COKES the box and starts to go out.]

  COKES: Why, your friend, and Barthol’ mew, an’ you be so contumacious.

  QUARLOUS: What mean you, Numps?

  100 WASP: I’ ll not be guilty, I, gentlemen.

  MISTRESS OVERDO: You will not let him go, brother, and lose him?

  COKES: Who can hold that will away? I had rather lose him than the Fair, 1 wusse.

  WASP: You do not know the inconvenience, gentlemen, you persuade to, nor what trouble I have with him in these humours. If he go to the Fair, he will buy of everything to a baby there; and household-stuff for that too. If a leg or an arm on him did not grow on, he would lose it i’ the press. Pray heaven I bring

  110 him off with one stone! And then he is such a ravener after fruit! You will not believe what a coil I had t’ other day to compound a business between a Cather’ ne-pear-woman and him about snatching! ’Tis intolerable, gentlemen.

  WINWIFE: O! but you must not leave him now to these hazards, Numps.

  WASP: Nay, he knows too well I will not leave him, and that makes him presume. - Well, sir, will you go now? If you have such an itch i’ your feet to foot it to the Fair, why do you stop? Am I your tarriers? Go, will you go, sir? Why do you not go?

  120 COKES: O Numps! have I brought you about? Come, Mistress Grace, and sister, I am resolute Bat, i’ faith, still.

  GRACE: Truly, I have no such fancy to the Fair, nor ambition to see it; there’s none goes thither of any quality or fashion.

  COKES: O Lord, sir! You shall pardon me, Mistress Grace, we are

  enow of ourselves to make it a fashion; and for qualities, let Numps alone, he’ ll find qualities.

  [Exeunt COKES, WASP, GRACE, and MISTRESS OVERDO.]

  QUARLOUS: What a rogue in apprehension is this, to understand her language no better !

  WINWIFE:Ay, and offer to marry to her! Well, I will leave the

  130 chase of my widow for today, and directly to the Fair. These flies cannot, this hot season, but engender us excellent creeping sport.

  QUARLOUS: A man that has but a spoonful of brain would think so. Farewell, John.

  [Exeunt QUARLOUS and WINWIFE.]

  LITTLEWIT: Win, you see ’tis in fashion to go to the Fair, Win. We must to the Fair too, you and I, Win. I have an affair i’ the Fair, Win, a puppet-play of mine own making - say nothing -that I writ for the motion-man, which you must see, Win.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT:I would I night, John, but my mother will never consent to such a ‘profane motion ’, she will call it.

  140 LITTLEWIT:Thut, we’ ll have a device, a dainty one. (Now, Wit, help at a pinch, good Wit come, come, good Wit, an’t be thy will.) I have it, Win, I have it i’ faith, and ’tis a fine one. Win, long to eat of a pig, sweet Win, i’ the Fair; do you see? I’ the heart o’ the Fair, not at Pie-corner. Your mother will do anything, Win, to satisfy your longing, you know, pray thee long, presently, and be sick o’ the sudden, good Win. I’ ll go in and tell her. Cut thy lace i’ the meantime, and play the hypocrite, sweet Win.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: No, I’ ll not make me unready for it. I can be hypocrite enough, though I were never so straitlaced.

  150 LITTLEWIT: You say true. You have been bred i’ the family, and

  brought up to’t. Our mother is a most elect hypocrite, and has maintained us all this seven year with it, like gentlefolks.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Ay, let her alone, John; she is not a wise wilful widow for nothing, nor a sanctified sister for a song. And let me alone too; I ha’ somewhat o’ the mother in me, you shall see. Fetch her, fetch her.

  [Exit LITTLEWIT.]

  160 Ah! ah!

  [She pretends to faint.]

  I,Vi [Re-enter LITTLEWIT with DAME PURBCRAFT.]

  [DAME PURBCRAFT:] Now the blaze of the beauteous discipline fright away this evil from our house! How now, Win-the-Fight, child, how do you? Sweet child, speak to me.

  LITTLEWIT: Yes, forsooth.

  DAME PURBCRAFT: Look up, sweet Win-the-fight, and suffer not the enemy to enter you at this door; remember that your education has been with the purest. What polluted one was it that named first the unclean beast, pig, to you, child?

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Uh, Uh!

  10 LITTLEWIT: Not I, o’ my sincerity, mother. She longed above three hours ere she would let me know it. Who was it, Win?

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: A Profane black thing with a beard, John.

  DAME PURBCRAFT: O! resist it, Win-the-fight, it is the Tempter, the wicked Tempter; you may know it by the fleshly motion of pig. Be strong against it, and its foul temptations, in these assaults, Whereby it broacheth flesh and blood, as it were, on the weaker side; and pray against its carnal provocations, good child, sweet child, pray.

  20 LITTLEWIT: Good mother, I pray you that she may eat some pig, and her belly-full, too; and do not you cast away your own child,

  and perhaps one of mine, with your tale of the Tempter. How do you, Win? Are you not sick?

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Yes, a great deal, John. Uh, Uh!

  DAME PURECRAFT: What shall we do? Call our zealous brother Busy hither, for his faithful fortification in this charge of the adversary; child, my dear child, you shall eat pig, be comforted, my sweet child.

  [Exit LITTLEWIT]

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Ay, buy I’ the Fair, mother.

  DAME PURECRAFT: I mean i’ the fair, if it can be anyway made

  30 or found lawful. Where is our brother Busy? Will he not come?

  – Look up, child.

  [Re-enter LITTLEWIT.]

  LITTLEWIT: Presently, mother, as soon as he has cleansed his beard. I found him fast by the teeth i’ the cold turkey-pie i’ the cupboard, with a great white loaf on his left hand, and a glass of malmsey on his right.

  DAME PURECRAFT: Slander not the Brethren, wicked one.

  LITTLEWIT: Here he is now, purified, mother.

  [Enter ZBAL-OF-THE-LAND BUSY.]

  DAME PURECRAFT: O Brother Busy! your help here to edify and raise us up in a scruple. My daughter Win-
the-Fight is

  40 visited with a natural disease of woman, called ’A longing to eat Pig’.

  LITTLEWIT: Ay sir, a Barthol’ mew-pig, and in the Fair.

  DAME PURECRAFT: And I would be satisfied from you, religiously-wise, whether a widow of the sanctified assembly, or a widow’s daughter, may commit the act without offence to the weaker sisters.

  BUSY: Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnal disease, or appetite, incident to woman; and as it is carnal, and incident, it is natural, very natural. Now pig, it is a meat, and a

  50 meat that is nourishing, and may be longed for, and so consequently eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten. But in the fair, and as a Barthol’ mew-pig, it cannot be eaten, for the very calling it a Barthol’ mew-pig, and to eat it so, is a spice of idolatry, and you make the fair no better than one of the high places. This, I take it, is the state of the question. A high place.

  LITTLE WIT: Ay, but in state of necessity, place should give place, Master Busy. (I have a conceit left, yet.)

  60 DAME PURECRAFT: Good Brother Zeal-of-the-Land, think to make it as lawful as you can.

  LITTLEWIT: Yes, sir, and as soon as you can; for it must be, sir; you see the danger my little wife is in, sir.

  DAME PURECRAFT: Truly, I do love my child dearly, and I would not have her miscarry, or hazard her first fruits, if it might be otherwise.

  BUSY: Surely it may be otherwise, but it is subject to construction – subject, and hath a face of offence with the weak, a great face, a foul face, but that face may have a veil put over it, and be

  70 shadowed, as it were. It may be eaten, and in the fair, I take it, in a booth, the tents of the wicked. The place is not much, not very much; we may be religious in midst of the profane, so it be eaten with a reformed mouth, with sobriety, and humbleness; not gorged in with gluttony or greediness; there’s the fear: for, should she go there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the unclean dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye or the lust of the palate, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and not good.

  LITTLEWIT: Nay, I knew that afore, and told her on’t; but

  80 courage, Win, we’ ll be humble enough; we’ ll seek out the homeliest booth i’ the Fair, that’s certain. Rather than fail we’ ll eat it o’ the ground.

  DAME PURECRAFT: Ay, and I’ ll go with you myself, Win-the-Fight, and my brother Zeal-of-the-Land shall go with us, too, for our better consolation.

  MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Uh! Uh!

  LITTLEWIT: Ay, and Solomon, too, Win; the more the merrier. Win – [Aside to MISTRESS LITTLEWIT] We’ ll leave Rabbi Busy in a booth. – Solomon, my cloak!

  [Enter SOLOMON with the cloak.]

  SOLOMON: Here, Sir.

  90 BUST: In the way of comfort to the weak, I will go and eat. I will eat exceedingly and prophesy; there may be a good use made of it, too, now I think on’t: by the public eating of swine’s flesh, to profess our hate and loathing of Judaism, whereof the Brethren stand taxed. I will therefore eat, yea, I will eat exceedingly.

  LITTLEWIT: Good, i’ faith, I will eat heartily, too, because I will be no Jew; I could never away with that stiff-necked generation. And truly, I hope my little one will be like me, that cries for pig so, i’ the mother’s belly.

  100 BUSY: Very likely, exceeding likely, very exceeding likely.

  [Exeunt.]

  Act Tow

  II, i [The Fair.]

  [Enter LANTERN LEATHERHEAD, JOAN TRASH, and the people of the fair; they begin to erect their booths and stalls.]

  [Enter JUSTICE OVERDO, alone, disguised as a madman.]

  [OVERDO (aside):] Well, in Justice’ name, and the King’s, and for the commonwealth! defy all the world, Adam Overdo, for a disguise, and all story; for thou hast fitted thyself, I swear. Fain would I meet the Lynceus now, that eagle’s eye, that piercing Epidaurian serpent (as my Quintus Horace calls him), that could discover a Justice of peace (and lately of the quorum) under this covering. They may have seen many a fool in the habit of a Justice; but never till now a justice in the habit of a fool. Thus must we do, though, that wake for the public good; and thus

  10 hath the wise magistrate done in all ages. There is a doing of right out of wrong, if the way be found. Never shall I enough commend a worthy worshipful man, sometime a capital member of this City, for his high wisdom in this point, who would take you, now the habit of a porter, now of a carman, now of the dog-killer, in this month of August; and in the winter of a seller of tinder-boxes. And what would he do in all these shapes? Marry, go you into every ale-house, and down into every cellar; measure the length of puddings, take the gauge of black pots and cans, ay, and custards, with a stick; and

  20 their circumference, with a thread; weigh the loaves of bread on his middle-finger; then would he send for ’ em, home; give the puddings to the poor, the bread to the hungry, the custards to his children; break the pots and burn the cans himself; he

  would not trust his corrupt officers; he would do’t himself. Would all men in authority would follow this worthy precedent! For, alas, as we are public persons, what do we know? Nay, what can we know? We hear with other men’s ears; we see with other men’s eyes. A foolish constable or a sleepy watchman is all our information; he slanders a gentleman by the virtue of his place, as he calls it, and we, by the vice of ours,

  30 must believe him. As, a while gone, they made me, yea me, to mistake an honest zealous pursuivant for a seminary, and a proper young Bachelor of Music for a bawd. This we are subject to, that live in high place; all our intelligence is idle, and most of our intelligencers knaves; and, by your leave, ourselves thought little better, if not arrant fools, for believing ’ em. I, Adam Overdo, am resolved therefore to spare spy-money hereafter, and make mine own discoveries. Many are the yearly enormities of this Fair, in whose courts of Pie-powders I have had the honour during the three days sometimes to sit as judge.

  40 But this is the special day for detection of those foresaid enormities. Here is my black book for the purpose; this the cloud that hides me; under this covert I shall see and not be seen. On, Junius Brutus! And as I began so I’ ll end: in Justice’ name, and the King’s; and for the commonwealth!

  [LEATHERHEAD:] The Fair’s pestilence-dead, methinks; people

  II,ii come not abroad today, whatever the matter is. Do you hear, Sister Trash, Lady o’ the Basket? Sit farmer with your gingerbread-progeny there, and hinder not the prospect of my shop, or I’ ll ha’ it proclaimed I’ the Fair what stuff they are made on.

  TRASH: Why, what stuff are they made on, Brother Leatherhead? Nothing but what’s wholesome, I assure you.

  LEATHERHBAD: Yes, stale bread, rotten eggs, musty ginger, and dead honey, you know.

  10 OVBRDO [aside]: Ay! have I met with enormity so soon?

  LEATHERHEAD: I shall mar your market, old Joan.

  TRASH: Mar my market, thou too-proud pedlar? Do thy worst; I defy thee, I, and thy stable of hobby-horses. I pay for my ground as well as thou dost; an’ thou wrong’st me, for all thou art parcel-poet and an inginer, I’ ll find a friend shall right me and make a ballad of thee and thy cattel all over. Are you puffed up with the pride of your wares? Your arsedine?

  LEATHERHBAD: Go to, old Joan, I’ ll talk with you anon; and take you down too afore Justice Overdo; he is the man must charm

  20 you. I’ ll ha’ you i’ the Pie-powders.

  TRASH: Charm me? I’ ll meet thee face to face afore his worship when thou dar’st; and though I be a little crooked o’ my body, I’ ll be found as upright in my dealing as any woman in smith field, I. Charm me?

  OVERDO [aside]: I am glad to hear my name is their terror, yet; this is doing of justice.

  [Enter PASSENGERS.]

  LEATHBRHEAD: What do you lack? What is’t you buy? What do you lack? Rattles, drums, halberts, horses, babies o’ the best? Fiddles o’ th’ finest?

  Enter COSTER-MONGER [and NIGHTINGALE.]

  30 COSTER-MONGBR: Buy any pears, p
ears, fine, very fine pears!

  TRASH: Buy any gingerbread, gilt gingerbread!

  NIGHTINGALE: Hey, now the fair’s a-filling!

  O, for a tune to startle

  The birds o’ the booths here billing

  Yearly with old Saint Bartle!

  The drunkards they are wading,

  The punks and chapmen trading;

  Who’ d see the Fair without his lading?

  Buy any ballads; new ballads?

  [Exeunt PASSENGERS and COSTER-MONGER. Enter URSULA from her booth.]

  URSULA: Fie upon’t! Who would wear out their youth and prime

  40 thus in roasting of pigs, that had any cooler vocation? Hell’s a kind of cold cellar to’t, a very fine vault, o’ my conscience! What mooncalf!

  MOONCALF [within]: Here, Mistress.

  NIGHTINGALE: How, now, Urs’ la? In a heat, in a heat?

  URSULA [to MOONCALF]: My chair, you false faucet you; and my morning’s draught, quickly, a bottle of ale to quench me, rascal–I am all fire and fat, Nightingale; I shall e’ en melt away to the first woman, a rib again, I am afraid. I do water the ground in knots as I go, like a great garden-pot; you may follow me by the

  50 S’s I make.

  NIGHTINGALE: Alas, good Urs; was ’ zekiel here this morning?

  URSULA: ’ Zekiel? what ’ Zekiel?

  NIGHTINGALE: ’ Zekiel Edgworth, the civil cutpurse; you know him well enough - he that talks bawdy to you still. I call him my secretary.

  URSULA: He promised to be here this morning, I remember.

  NIGHTINGALE: When he comes, bid him stay. I’ ll be back again presently.

  60 URSULA: Best take your morning’s dew in your belly, Nightingale.

  MOONCALF brings in the chair.

  Come, sir, set it here. Did not I bid you should get this chair let out o’ the sides for me, that my hips might play? You’ ll never think of anything till your dame be rump-galled. ’Tis well, changeling; because it can take in your grasshopper’s thighs, you care for no more. Now you look as you had been i’ the corner o’ the booth, fleaing your breech with a candle’s end, and set fire o’ the Fair. Fill. stot, fill