Volpone and Other Plays
Page 38
MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Will you leave me alone with two men, John?
LITTLEWIT: Ay, they are honest gentlemen, Win, Captain Jordan and Captain Whit; they’ ll use you very civilly, Win; God b’ w’ you, Win.
[Exit.]
URSULA [to ENOCKEM and HIT]: What, ’s her husband gone?
KNOCKEM: On his false gallop, Urs, away.
URSULA: An’ you be right Barthol’ mew-birds, now show yourselves so: we are undone for want of fowl i’ the Fair, here. here will be ’ Zekiel Edgworth and three or four gallants with him at night, and I ha’ neither plover nor quail for ’ em. Persuade this between you two to become a bird o’ the game, while I work the velvet woman within, as you call her.
20 ENOCKEM: I conceive thee, urs! go thy ways.
[Exit URSULA.]
Dost thou hear, Whit? is’t not pity my delicate dark chestnut here – with the fine lean head, large forehead, round eyes, even mouth, sharp ears, long neck, thin crest, close withers, plain back, deep sides, short fillets, and full flanks; with a round belly, a plump buttock, large thighs, knit knees, straight legs, short pasterns, smooth hoofs, and short heels – should lead a dull honest woman’s life, that might live the life of a lady?
WHIT: Yes, by my fait and trot it is, Captain. De honesht woman’s life is a scurvy dull life, indeed la.
30 MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: How, sir? Is an honest woman’s life a scurvy life?
WHIT: Yes, fait, shweetheart, believe him, de leef of a bond-woman! But if dou vilt harken to me, I vill make tee a free-woman and a lady. Dou shalt live like a lady, as te Captain saish.
KNOCKEM: Ay, and be honest too, sometimes; have her wires and her tires, her green gowns and velvet petticoats.
WHIT: Ay, and ride to Ware and Rumford i’ dy coash, shee de players, be in love vit ’ em; sup vit gallantsh, be drunk, and cost de noting.
40 KNOCKEM: Brave vapours!
WHIT: And lie by twenty on ’ em, if dou pleash, shweetheart.
MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: What, and be honest still? That were fine sport.
WHIT: Tish common, shweetheart; tou may’st do it, by my hand. It shall be justified to ty husband’s fairh, now; tou shalt be as honesht as the skin between his hornsh, la!
KNOCKEM: Yes, and wear a dressing, top and top-gallant, to compare with e’ er a husband on ’ em all, for a fore-top. It is the vapour of spirit in the wife to cuckold, nowadays, as it is the
50 vapour of fashion in the husband not to suspect. Your prying cat-eyed-citizen is an abominable vapour.
MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: Lord, what a fool have I been!
WHIT: Mend, then, and do everyting like a lady hereafter; never know ty husband from another man.
KNOCKEM: Nor any one man from another, but i’ the dark.
WHIT: Ay, and then it ish no dishgrash to know any man.
[Re-enter URSULA.]
URSULA: Help, help here!
KNOCKEM: How now? What vapour’s there?
URSULA: O, you are a sweet ranger! and look well to your walks!
60 Yonder is your punk of Turnbull, Ramping ahce, has fall’n upon the poor gentlewoman within, and pulled her hood over her ears, and her hair through it.
ALICE enters, beating the Justice’s wife.
MISTRESS OVERDO: Help, help, i’ the King’s name!
PUNK ALICE: A mischief on you, they are such as you are that undo us, and take our trade from us, with your tuft taffeta haunches.
KNOCKEM: How now, Alice!
PUNK ALICE: The poor common whores can ha’ no traffic for the privy rich ones; your caps and hoods of velvet call away our
70 customers and lick the fat from us.
URSULA: Peace, you foul ramping jade, you –
PUNK ALICE: Od’s foot, you bawd in grease, are you talking?
KNOCKEM: Why, Alice, I say.
PUNK ALICE: Thou sow of Smithfield, thou!
URSULA: Thou tripe of Turnbull!
KNOCKEM: Cat-a-mountain vapours! ha!
URSULA: You know where you were tawed lately, both lashed and slashed you were in Bridewell.
PUNK ALICE: Ay, by the same token, you rid that week, and
80 broke out the bottom o’ the cart, night-tub.
KNOCKEM: Why, lion face! ha! do you know who I am? Shall I tear ruf, sut waistcoat, make rags of petticoat? Ha! go to, vanish, for fear of vapours. Whit, a kick, Whit, in the parting vapour.
[They kick out PUNK ALICE.]
Come, brave woman, take a good heart, thou shalt be a lady, too.
WHIT: Yes, fait, dey shall all both be ladies and write Madam. I vill do’t myself for dem. Do is the vord, and D is the middle letter of Madam. DD, put ’ em together and make deeds, without which
90 all words are alike, la.
KNOCKEM: ’Tis true. Urs’la, take ’ em in, open thy wardrobe, and fit ’ em to their calling. Green gowns, crimson petticoats, green women! My Lord Mayor’s green women! guests o’ the game, true bred. I’ ll provide you a coach to take the air in.
MISTRESS LITTLEWIT: But do you think you can get one?
KNOCKEM: O, they are as common as wheelbarrows where there are great dunghills. Every pettifogger’s wife has ’ em; for first he buys a coach, that he may marry, and then he marries that he may be made cuckold in’t. For if their wives ride not to their
100 cuckolding, they do ’ em no credit. Hide and be hidden; ride and be ridden, says the vapour of experience.
[Exeunt URSULA, MISTRESS LITTLEWIT, and MISTRESS OVERDO.]
[Enter TROUBLE-ALL.]
TROUBLE-ALL: By what warrant does it say so?
KNOCKEM: Ha! mad child o’ the Pie-powders, art thou there? Fill us a fresh can, Urs; we may drink together.
TROUBLE-ALL: I may not drink without a warrant, Captain.
KNOCKEM: ’Slood, thou’ll not stale without a warrant, shortly. Whit, give me pen, ink, and paper. I’ ll draw him a warrant presently.
TROUBLE-ALL: It must be Justice Overdo’s.
KNOCKEM: I know, man. Fetch the drink, Whit.
[KNOCKEM writes on a paper.]
10 WHIT: I pre dee now, be very brief, Captain; for de new ladies stay for dee.
KNOCKEM gives TROUBLE-ALL the paper.]
KNOCKEM: O, as brief as can be; here ’tis already. ‘Adam Overdo.’
TROUBLE-ALL: Why, now I’ ll pledge you, Captain.
KNOCKEM: Drink it off. I’ ll come to thee, anon, again.
[Exit KNOCKEM into Ursula’s booth. Exit TROUBLE-ALL. Enter QUARLOUS, EDGWORTH.]
QUARLOUS: Well, sir, you are now discharged; QUARLOUS beware of being spied, hereafter. to the cutpurse.
BDGWORTH: Sir, will it please you enter in here at Urs’la’s and take part of a silken gown, a velvet petticoat, or a wrought
20 smock? I am promised such, and I can spare any gentleman a moiety.
QUARLOUS: Keep it for your companions in beastliness; I am none of ’ em, sir. If I had not already forgiven you a greater trespass, or thought you yet worth my beating, I would instruct your manners, to whom you made your offers. But go your ways, talk not to me, the hangman is only fit to discourse with you; the hand of beadle is too merciful a punishment for your trade of life.
[Exit EDGWORTH.]
I am sorry I employed this fellow; for he thinks me such:
30 Facinus quos inquinat, aequat. But it was for sport. And would I
make it serious, the getting of this licence is nothing to me, without other circumstances concur. I do think how impertinently I labour, if the word be not mine that the ragged fellow marked; and what advantage I have given Ned Winwife in this time now, of working her, though it be mine. He’ ll go near to form to her what a debauched rascal I am, and fright her out of all good conceit of me. I should do so by him, I am sure, if I had the opportunity. But my hope is in her temper, yet; and it must needs be next to despair, that is grounded on any part of
40 a woman’s discretion. I would give, by my troth, now, all I could spare (to my clothes and my sword) to meet my tattered
soothsayer again, who was my judge i’ the question, to know certainly whose word he has damned or saved. For till then I live but under a reprieve. I must seek him. Who be these?
[Enter BRISTLE and POACHER with WASP.]
WASP: Sir, you are a Welsh cuckold, and a prating runt, and no constable.
BRISTLE: You say very well. Come put in his leg in the middle roundel, and let him hole there.
[They put him in the stocks.]
WASP: You stink of leeks, metheglin, and cheese, you rogue.
50 BRISTLE: Why, what is that to you, if you sit sweetly in the stocks in the meantime? If you have a mind to stink too, your breches sit close enough to your bum. Sit you merry, sir.
QUARLOUS: How now, Numps?
WASP: It is no matter how; pray you look off.
QUARLOUS: Nay, I’ ll not offend you, Numps. I thought you had sat there to be seen.
WASP: And to be sold, did you not? Pray you mind your business, an’ you have any.
QUARLOUS: Cry you mercy, Numps. Does your leg lie high
60 enough?
[Enter HAGGIS and others of the Watch with JUSTICEOVERDO, still disguised, and BUSY.]
BRISTLE: How now, neighbour Haggis, what says Justice Overdo’s worship to the other offenders?
HAGGIS: Why, he says just nothing; what should he say? Or where should he say? He is not to be found, man. He ha’ not been seen i’ the Fair, here, all this live-long day, never since seven o’ clock i’ the morning. His clerks know not what to think on’t. There is no court of Pie-powders yet. Here they be returned.
BRISTLE: What shall be done with ’ em, then, in your discretion?
70 HAGGIS: I think we were best put ’ em in the stocks, in discretion (there they will be safe in discretion) for the valour of an hour or such a thing, till his worship come.
BRISTLE: It is but a hole matter if we do, neighbour Haggis. [To WASP] Come, sir, here is company for you. Heave up the stocks.
WASP [aside]: I shall put a trick upon your Welsh diligence, perhaps.
As they [re-]open the stocks, WASP puts his shoe on his hand and slips it in for his leg.
BRISTLE [To BUSY]: Put in your leg, sir.
They bring BUSY, and put him in.
QUARLOUS: What, Rabbi Busy! Is he come?
BUSY: I do obey thee; the lion may roar, but he cannot bite. I am
80 glad to be thus separated from the heathen of the land, and put apart in the stocks for the holy cause.
WASP: What are you, sir?
BUSY: One that rejoiceth in his affliction and sitteth here to prophesy the destruction of fairs and May-games, wakes and Whitsun-ales, and doth sign and groan, for the reformation of these abuses.
[They put JUSTICE OVERDO in the stocks.]
WASP [to OVERDO]: And do you sigh and groan, too, or rejoice in your affliction?
OVERDO: I do not feel it, I do not think of it, it is a thing without
90 me. Adam, thou art above these batt’ries, these contumelies. In te manca ruit fortuna, as thy friend Horace says; thou art one, Quern neque pauperies, neque mors, neque vincula terrent. And therefore, as another friend of thine says (I think it be thy friend Persius), Non te quaesiveris extra.
QUARLOUS: What’s here? A stoic i’ the stocks? The fool is turned philosopher.
BUSY: Friend, I will leave to communicate my spirit with you if I hear any more of those superstitious relics, those lists of Latin, the very rags of Rome and patches of Popery.
100 WASP: Nay, an’ you begin to quarrel, gentlemen, I’ ll leave you. I ha’ paid for quarrelling too lately. Look you, a device, but shifting in a hand for a foot. God b’ w’ you.
He gets out.
BUSY: Wilt thou then leave thy brethren in tribulation?
WASP: For this once, sir.
[Exit.]
BUSY: Thou art a halting neutral – Stay him there, stop him! – that will not endure the heat of persecution.
BRISTLE: How, now, what’s the matter?
BUSY: He is fled, he is fled, and dares not sit it out.
BRISTLE: What, has he made an escape? Which way? Follow,
110 neighbour Haggis!
[Exeunt BRISTLE and HAGGIS. Enter DAUB PURECRAFT.]
DAME PURECRAFT: O me! In the stocks! Have the wicked prevailed?
BUSY: Peace, religious sister; it is my calling, comfort yourself, an extraordinary calling, and done for my better standing, my surer standing hereafter.
The madman enters.
TROUBLE-ALL: By whose warrant, by whose warrant, this?
QUARLOUS: O, here’s my man dropped in, I looked for.
OVERDO: Ha!
DAME PURECRAFT: O good sir, they have set the faithful here to
120 be wondered at; and provided holes for the holy of the land.
TROUBLE-ALL: Had they warrant for it? Showed they Justice Overdo’s hand? If they had no warrant, they shall answer it.
[Re-enter BRISTLE and HAGGIS.]
BRISTLE: Sure you did not lock the stocks sufficiently, neighbour Toby!
HAGGIS: No? See if you can lock ’ em better.
BRISTLE [tries the lock]: They are very sufficiently locked, and truly, yet something is in the matter.
TROUBLE-ALL: True, your warrant is the matter that is in question; by what warrant?
130 BRISTLE: Madman, hold your peace; I will put you in his room else, in the very same hole, do you see?
QUARLOUS: How? Is he a madman?
TROUBLE-ALL: Show me Justice Overdo’s warrant, I obey you.
HAGGIS: You are a mad fool; hold your tongue.
TROUBLE-ALL: In Justice Overdo’s name I drink to you, and here’s my warrant.
Shows his can.
[Exeunt BRISTLE and HAGGIS.]
OVERDO [aside]: Alas, poor wretch! How it earns my heart for him!
QUARLOUS [aside]: If he be mad, it is in vain to question him. I’ ll
140 try, though. [To him] Friend, there was a gentlewoman showed you two names, some hour since, Argalus and Palemon, to mark in a book. Which of ’ em was it you marked?
TROUBLE-ALL: I mark no name but Adam Overdo; that is the name of names; he only is the sufficient magistrate; and that name I reverence; show it me.
QUARLOUS [aside]: This fellow’s mad indeed. I am further off now than afore.
OVERDO [aside]: I shall not breathe in peace till I have made him some amends.
QUARLOUS [aside]: Well, I will make another use of him, is come 150
in my head: I have a nest of beards in my trunk, one something like his.
[Exit.]
The watchmen come back again.
BRISTLE: This mad fool has made me that I know not whether I have locked the stocks or no; I think I locked ’ em.
[He tries the lock.]
TROUBLE-ALL: Take Adam Overdo in your mind and fear nothing.
BRISTLE: ’Slid, madness itself, hold thy peace, and take that.
[Strikes him.]
TROUBLE-ALL: Strikes thou without a warrant? Take thou that.
The madman fights with ’ em, and they leave open the stocks.
BUSY: We are delivered by miracle; fellow in fetters, let us not
160 refuse the means; this madness was of the spirit. The malice of the enemy hath mocked itself.
[Exeunt BUSY and JUSTICE OVERDO.]
DAME PURECRAFT: Mad, do they call him! The world is mad in error, but he is mad in truth. I love him o’ the sudden (the cunning-man said all true), and shall love him more and more. How well it becomes a man to be mad in truth! O, that I might be his yoke-fellow and be mad with him! What a many should we draw to madness in truth with us!
[Exit.]
The watch, missing them, are affrighted.
BRISTLE: How now? All ’scaped? Where’s the woman? It is witchcraft! Her velvet hat is a witch, o’ my conscience, or my key, t’ one! The madman was a devil and I am an ass; so bless
170 me, my place, and mine office.
[Exeunt.]
ACT FIVE
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v,i [The Fair.]
[Enter LEATHERHEAD with FILCHER and SHARKWELL, doorkeepers. They begin to erect the puppet-theatre.]
[LEATHERHEAD:] Well, luck and Saint Barthol’ mew! Out with the sign of our invention, in the name of wit, and do you beat the drum the while. All the fowl i’ the Fair, I mean all the dirt in Smithfield (that’s one of Master Littlewit’s carwitchets now), will be thrown at our banner today if the matter does not please the people. O the motions that I, Lantern Leatherhead, have given light to i’ my time, since my Master Pod died! Jerusalem was a stately thing, and so was Nineveh, and The City of Norwich, and Sodom and Gomorrah, with the rising o’ the prentices and pulling down the bawdy-houses there, upon Shrove
10 Tuesday; but The Gunpowder Plot, there was a get-penny! I have presented that to an eighteen- or twenty-pence audience nine times in an afternoon. Your home-born projects prove ever the best, they are so easy and familiar. They put too much learning i’ their things nowadays, and that I fear will be the spoil o’ this. Littlewit? I say Micklewit! if not too mickle! – Look to your gathering there, Goodman Filcher.
FILCHER: I warrant you, sir.
20 LEATHERHEAD: An’ there come any gentlefolks, take twopence a piece, Sharkwell.
SHARKEWELL: I warrant you, sir, three pence an’ we can.
V,ii. The JUSTICE comes in like a porter
[OVERDO:] This later disguise, I have borrowed of a porter, shall carry me out to all my great and good ends; which, however
interrupted, were never destroyed in me. Neither is the hour of my severity yet come, to reveal myself, wherein, cloud-like, I will break out in rain and hail, lightning and thunder, upon the head of enormity. Two main works I have to prosecute: first, one is to invent some satisfaction for the poor kind wretch who is out of his wits for my sake; and yonder I see him coming. I will walk aside and project for it.
[Enter WINWIFE and GRACE.]
10 WINWIFE: I wonder where Tom Quarlous is, that he returns not; it may be he is struck in here to seek us.
GRACE: See, here’s our madman again.