Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker

by Thomas Dekker

  Re-enter Orlando with lawns.

  Mat. Hast been at gallows?

  Orl. Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to day.

  Mat. Look, signor; here’s the commodity.

  Cand. Your price?

  Mat. Thus.

  Cand. No: too dear: thus.

  Mat. No: O fie, you must fly higher: yet take ’em home, trifles shall not make us quarrel, we’ll agree, you shall have them, and a pennyworth; I’ll fetch money at your shop.

  Cand. Be it so, good signor, send me going.

  Mat. Going? a deep bowl of wine for Signor Candido.

  Orl. He would be going.

  Cand. I’ll rather stay than go so: stop your bowl.

  Enter Constable and Billmen.

  Lod. How now?

  Bots. Is’t Shrove-Tuesday, that these ghosts walk?

  Mat. What’s your business, sir?

  Const. From the duke: you are the man we look for, signor. I have warrant here from the duke, to apprehend you upon felony for robbing two pedlars: I charge you i’th’ duke’s name go quickly.

  Mat. Is the wind turned? Well: this is that old wolf, my father-in-law: — seek out your mistress, sirrah.

  Orl. Yes, Sir, — as shafts by piecing are made strong,

  So shall thy life be straightened by this wrong. [Aside and exit.

  Lod., Ast., &c. In troth, we are sorry.

  Mat. Brave men must be crossed; pish, it’s but fortune’s dice roving against me. Come, sir, pray use me like a gentleman; let me not be carried through the streets like a pageant.

  Const. If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them.

  Lod., Ast., &c. Be’t so: come.

  Const. What are you, sir?

  Bots. I, sir? sometimes a figure, sometimes a cipher, as the State has occasion to cast up her accounts: I’m a soldier.

  Const. Your name is Bots, is’t not?

  Bots. Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company.

  Const. I know you are, sir: what’s she?

  Bots. A gentlewoman, my mother.

  Const. Take ’em both along.

  Bots. Me, sir?

  Billmen. Ay, sir!

  Const. If he swagger, raise the street.

  Bots. Gentlemen, gentlemen, whither will you drag us?

  Lod. To the garden house. Bots, are we even with you?

  Const. To Bridewell with ’em.

  Bots. You will answer this.

  Const. Better than a challenge. I’ve warrant for my work, sir.

  Lod. We’ll go before.

  Const. Pray do. —

  [Exeunt Matheo with Lodovico, Astolfo, Carolo, Beraldo, and Fontinell; Bots and Mistress Horseleech, with Billmen.

  Who, Signor Candido? a citizen

  Of your degree consorted thus, and revelling

  In such a house?

  Cand. Why, sir? what house, I pray?

  Const. Lewd, and defamed.

  Cand. Is’t so? thanks, sir: I’m gone.

  Const. What have you there?

  Cand. Lawns which I bought, sir, of the gentleman that keeps the house.

  Const. And I have warrant here,

  To search for such stol’n ware: these lawns are stol’n.

  Cand. Indeed!

  Const. So he’s the thief, you the receiver:

  I’m sorry for this chance, I must commit you.

  Cand. Me, sir, for what?

  Const. These goods are found upon you,

  And you must answer’t.

  Cand. Must I so?

  Const. Most certain.

  Cand. I’ll send for bail.

  Const. I dare not: yet because

  You are a citizen of worth, you shall not

  Be made a pointing stock, but without guard,

  Pass only with myself.

  Cand. To Bridewell too?

  Const. No remedy.

  Cand. Yes, patience: being not mad,

  They had me once to Bedlam, now I’m drawn

  To Bridewell, loving no whores.

  Const. You will buy lawn! [Exeunt.

  ACT THE FIFTH.

  SCENE I. — A Street.

  ENTER AT ONE side Hippolito; at the other, Lodovico, Astolfo, Carolo, Beraldo and Fontinell.

  Lod. Yonder’s the Lord Hippolito; by any means leave him and me together; now will I turn him to a madman.

  Ast., Car., &c. Save you my lord.

  [Exeunt all except Hippolito and Lodovico.

  Lod. I ha’ strange news to tell you.

  Hip. What are they?

  Lod. Your mare’s i’th’ pound.

  Hip. How’s this?

  Lod. Your nightingale is in a limebush.

  Hip. Ha?

  Lod. Your puritanical honest whore sits in a blue gown.

  Hip. Blue gown!

  Lod. She’ll chalk out your way to her now: she beats chalk.

  Hip. Where? who dares? —

  Lod. Do you know the brick-house of castigation, by the river side that runs by Milan, — the school where they pronounce no letter well but O?

  Hip. I know it not.

  Lod. Any man that has borne office of constable, or any woman that has fallen from a horse-load to a cart-load, or like an old hen that has had none but rotten eggs in her nest, can direct you to her: there you shall see your punk amongst her back-friends.

  There you may have her at your will,

  For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill

  With a whip deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle;

  Ah little monkey.

  Hip. What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I loved her?

  Lod. Some worshipful rascal, I lay my life.

  Hip. I’ll beat the lodgings down about their ears

  That are her keepers.

  Lod. So you may bring an old house over her head.

  Hip. I’ll to her —

  I’ll to her, stood armed fiends to guard the doors. [Exit.

  Lod. Oh me! what monsters are men made by whores!

  If this false fire do kindle him, there’s one faggot

  More to the bonfire. Now to my Bridewell birds;

  What song will they sing? [Exit.

  SCENE II. — An Apartment in Bridewell.

  ENTER DUKE, INFELICE, Carolo, Astolfo, Beraldo, Fontinell, and several Masters of Bridewell.

  Duke. Your Bridewell? that the name? for beauty, strength,

  Capacity and form of ancient building,

  Besides the river’s neighbourhood, few houses

  Wherein we keep our court can better it.

  1st Mast. Hither from foreign courts have princes come,

  And with our duke did acts of State commence,

  Here that great cardinal had first audience,

  The grave Campayne; that duke dead, his son

  That famous prince gave free possession

  Of this, his palace, to the citizens,

  To be the poor man’s ware-house; and endowed it

  With lands to the value of seven hundred marks,

  With all the bedding and the furniture, once proper,

  As the lands then were, to an hospital

  Belonging to a Duke of Savoy. Thus

  Fortune can toss the world; a prince’s court

  Is thus a prison now.

  Duke. ’Tis Fortune’s sport:

  These changes common are: the wheel of fate

  Turns kingdoms up, till they fall desolate.

  But how are these seven hundred marks by th’ year

  Employed in this your work-house?

  1st Mast. War and peace

  Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors

  Of war burst open, from this house are sent

  Men furnished in all martial complement.

  The moon hath thorough her bow scarce drawn to th’ head,

  Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months,

  Since sixteen hundred soldiers went abroad.

  Here providence and charity play such parts,

&n
bsp; The house is like a very school of arts,

  For when our soldiers, like ships driven from sea,

  With ribs all broken, and with tattered sides,

  Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs

  How often do we cover! that, like men,

  They may be sent to their own homes again.

  All here are but one swarm of bees, and strive

  To bring with wearied thighs honey to the hive.

  The sturdy beggar, and the lazy loon,

  Gets here hard hands, or laced correction.

  The vagabond grows staid, and learns t’obey,

  The drone is beaten well, and sent away.

  As other prisons are, some for the thief,

  Some, by which undone credit gets relief

  From bridled debtors; others for the poor,

  So this is for the bawd, the rogue, the whore.

  Car. An excellent team of horse!

  1st Mast. Nor is it seen

  That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen

  Of any rugged bencher; nor does offence

  Feel smart on spiteful, or rash evidence:

  But pregnant testimony forth must stand,

  Ere justice leave them in the beadle’s hand,

  As iron, on the anvil are they laid,

  Not to take blows alone, but to be made

  And fashioned to some charitable use.

  Duke. Thus wholsom’st laws spring from the worst abuse.

  Enter Orlando, disguised as a Serving-man, and Bellafront.

  Bell. Let mercy touch your heart-strings, gracious lord,

  That it may sound like music in the ear

  Of a man desperate, being i’th’ hands of law.

  Duke. His name?

  Bell. Matheo.

  Duke. For a robbery? where is he?

  Bell. In this house. [Exeunt Bellafront and 2nd Master.

  Duke. Fetch you him hither — Is

  this the party?

  Orl. This is the hen, my lord, that the cock with the lordly comb, your son-in-law, would crow over, and tread.

  Duke. Are your two servants ready?

  Orl. My two pedlars are packed together, my good lord.

  Duke. ’Tis well: this day in judgment shall be spent:

  Vice, like a wound lanced, mends by punishment.

  Inf. Let me be gone, my lord, or stand unseen;

  ’Tis rare when a judge strikes, and that none die,

  And ’tis unfit then women should be by.

  1st Mast. We’ll place you, lady, in some private room.

  Inf. Pray do so. [Exit with 1st Master, who returns alone.

  Orl. Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes

  Should view men carved up for anatomies,

  Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen;

  Many women sure will sin behind a screen.

  Enter Lodovico.

  Lod. Your son, the Lord Hippolito, is entered.

  Duke. Tell him we wish his presence. A word, Sforza;

  On what wings flew he hither?

  Lod. These — I told him his lark whom he loved, was a Bridewell-bird; he’s mad that this cage should hold her, and is come to let her out.

  Duke. ’Tis excellent: away, go call him hither. [Exit Lodovico.

  Re-enter on one side 2nd Master and Bellafront with Matheo, and Constable; on the other, Lodovico with Hippolito. Orlando goes out, and returns with two of his Servants disguised as Pedlars.

  Duke. You are to us a stranger, worthy lord,

  ’Tis strange to see you here.

  Hip. It is most fit,

  That where the sun goes, atomies follow it.

  Duke. Atomies neither shape, nor honour bear:

  Be you yourself, a sunbeam to shine clear. —

  Is this the gentleman? Stand forth and hear

  Your accusation.

  Mat. I’ll hear none: I fly high in that: rather than kites shall seize upon me, and pick out mine eyes to my face, I’ll strike my talons through mine own heart first, and spit my blood in theirs. I am here for shriving those two fools of their sinful pack: when those jackdaws have cawed over me, then must I cry guilty, or not guilty; the law has work enough already and therefore I’ll put no work of mine into his hands; the hangman shall ha’t first; I did pluck those ganders, did rob them.

  Duke. ’Tis well done to confess.

  Mat. Confess and be hanged, and then I fly high, is’t not so? That for that; a gallows is the worst rub that a good bowler can meet with; I stumbled against such a post, else this night I had played the part of a true son in these days, undone my father-in-law; with him would I ha’ run at leap-frog, and come over his gold, though I had broke his neck for’t: but the poor salmon-trout is now in the net.

  Hip. And now the law must teach you to fly high.

  Mat. Right, my lord, and then may you fly low; no more words: — a mouse, mum, you are stopped.

  Bell. Be good to my poor husband, dear my lords.

  Mat. Ass!

  Why shouldst thou pray them to be good to me,

  When no man here is good to one another?

  Duke. Did any hand work in this theft but yours?

  Mat. O, yes, my lord, yes: — the hangman has never one son at a birth, his children always come by couples: though I cannot give the old dog, my father, a bone to gnaw, the daughter shall be sure of a choke-pear. Yes, my lord, there was one more that fiddled my fine pedlars, and that was my wife.

  Bell. Alas, I?

  Orl. O everlasting, supernatural superlative villain! [Aside.

  Duke, Lod., &c. Your wife, Matheo?

  Hip. Sure it cannot be.

  Mat. Oh, sir, you love no quarters of mutton that hang up, you love none but whole mutton. She set the robbery, I performed it; she spurred me on, I galloped away.

  Orl. My lords, —

  Bell. My lords, — fellow, give me speech, — if my poor life

  May ransom thine, I yield it to the law,

  Thou hurt’st thy soul, yet wip’st off no offence,

  By casting blots upon my innocence:

  Let not these spare me, but tell truth: no, see

  Who slips his neck out of the misery,

  Though not out of the mischief: let thy servant

  That shared in this base act, accuse me here,

  Why should my husband perish, he go clear?

  Orl. A good child, hang thine own father! [Aside.

  Duke. Old fellow, was thy hand in too?

  Orl. My hand was in the pie, my lord, I confess it: my mistress, I see, will bring me to the gallows, and so leave me; but I’ll not leave her so: I had rather hang in a woman’s company, than in a man’s; because if we should go to hell together, I should scarce be letten in, for all the devils are afraid to have any women come amongst them. As I am true thief, she neither consented to this felony, nor knew of it.

  Duke. What fury prompts thee on to kill thy wife?

  Mat. It is my humour, sir, ’tis a foolish bag-pipe that I make myself merry with: why should I eat hemp-seed at the hangman’s thirteen-pence halfpenny ordinary, and have this whore laugh at me, as I swing, as I totter?

  Duke. Is she a whore?

  Mat. A six-penny mutton pasty, for any to cut up.

  Orl. Ah, toad, toad, toad.

  Mat. A barber’s cittern for every serving-man to play upon; that lord, your son, knows it.

  Hip. I, sir? Am I her bawd then?

  Mat. No, sir, but she’s your whore then.

  Orl. Yea, spider; dost catch at great flies? [Aside.

  Hip. My whore?

  Mat. I cannot talk, sir, and tell of your rems and your rees and your whirligigs and devices: but, my lord, I found ’em like sparrows in one nest, billing together, and bulling of me. I took ’em in bed, was ready to kill him, was up to stab her —

  Hip. Close thy rank jaws: — pardon me, I am vexed;

  Thou art a villain, a malicious devil,

  Deep as the place where thou art l
ost, thou liest,

  Since I am thus far got into this storm,

  I’ll through, and thou shall see I’ll through untouched,

  When thou shalt perish in it.

  Re-enter Infelice.

  Inf. ’Tis my cue,

  To enter now. — Room! let my prize be played;

  I ha’ lurked in clouds, yet heard what all have said;

  What jury more can prove sh’as wronged my bed,

  Than her own husband; she must be punishèd.

  I challenge law, my lord; letters and gold,

  And jewels from my lord that woman took.

  Hip. Against that black-mouthed devil, against letters and gold,

  And against a jealous wife, I do uphold

  Thus far her reputation; I could sooner

  Shake th’ Appenine, and crumble rocks to dust,

  Than, though Jove’s shower rained down, tempt her to lust.

  Bel. What shall I say?

  Orl. [Throwing off his disguise.] Say thou art not a whore, and that’s more than fifteen women amongst five hundred dare swear without lying: this shalt thou say — no, let me say’t for thee — thy husband’s a knave, this lord’s an honest man; thou art no punk, this lady’s a right lady. Pacheco is a thief as his master is, but old Orlando is as true a man as thy father is. I ha’ seen you fly high, sir, and I ha’ seen you fly low, sir, and to keep you from the gallows, sir, a blue coat have I worn, and a thief did I turn. Mine own men are the pedlars, my twenty pounds did fly high, sir, your wife’s gown did fly low, sir: whither fly you now, sir? you ha’ scaped the gallows, to the devil you fly next, sir. Am I right, my liege?

  Duke. Your father has the true physician played.

  Mat. And I am now his patient.

  Hip. And be so still;

  ’Tis a good sign when our cheeks blush at ill.

  Const. The linen-draper, Signor Candido,

  He whom the city terms the patient man,

  Is likewise here for buying of those lawns

  The pedlars lost.

  Inf. Alas, good Candido!

  Duke. Fetch him [Exit Constable] and when these payments up are cast,

  Weigh out your light gold, but let’s have them last.

  Enter Candido and Constable, who presently goes out.

  Duke. In Bridewell, Candido?

  Cand. Yes, my good lord.

  Duke. What make you here?

  Cand. My lord, what make you here?

  Duke. I’m here to save right, and to drive wrong hence.