CONTENTS
Dramatis Personæ
Address to the World.
Act One, Scene One
Act One, Scene Two
Act Two, Scene One
Act Two, Scene Two
Act Three, Scene One
Act Three, Scene Two
Act Four, Scene One
Act Four, Scene Two
Act Four, Scene Three
Act Five, Scene One
Act Five Scene Two
Epilogue
Ben Jonson by Abraham Blyenberch; 1617
Dramatis Personæ
KING WILLIAM RUFUS.
SIR WALTER TERILL.
SIR REES AP VAUGHAN.
SIR QUINTILIAN SHORTHOSE.
BLUNT.
CRISPINUS.
DEMETRIUS FANNIUS.
PANTILIUS TUCCA.
HORACE.
ASINIUS BUBO.
PETER FLASH.
TUCCA’s Boy.
CÆLESTINE.
MISTRESS MINIVER.
DICACHE,
PHILOCALIA,
PETULA.
Servants, Attendants.
Address to the World.
WORLD, I WAS once resolv’d to be round with thee, because I know ’tis thy fashion to be round with every body:but the wind shifting his point, the vein turn’d:yet because thou wilt sit as judge of all matters, though for thy labour thou wearst Midas’s ears, and art monstrum horrendum, inform:Ingens cui lumen ademptum; whose great Poliphemiam eye is put out, I care not much if I make description, before thy universality, of that terrible Poetomachia, lately commenc’d between Horace the second, and a band of lean-witted poetasters.They have been at high words, and so high, that the ground could not serve them, but, for want of chopins, have stalk’d upon stages.
Horace hal’d his poetasters to the bar, the poetasters untruss’d Horace: how worthily either, or how wrongfully, World, leave it to the jury:Horace, questionless, made himself believe, that his Burgonian wit might desperately challenge all comers, and that none durst take up the foils against him:it’s likely, if he had not so believ’d, he had not been so deceiv’d, for he was answer’d at his own weapon:and if before Apollo himself, who is coronator poetarum, an inquisition should be taken touching this lamentable merry murdering of innocent poetry:all mount Helicon to Bun-hill, it would be found on the poetaster’s side se defendendo.Notwithstanding the doctors think otherwise.I meet one, and he runs full butt at me with his satyr’s horns, for that in untrussing Horace, I did only whip his fortunes, and condition of life, where the more noble reprehension had been of his mind’s deformity, whose greatness if his critical lynx had with as narrow eyes, observ’d in himself, as it did little spots upon others; without all disputation, Horace would not have left Horace out of Every Man in’s Humour.His fortunes?Why does not he tax that only in others?Read his arraignment and see.A second cat-a-mountain mews, and calls me barren, because my brains could bring forth no other stigmatic than Tucca, whom Horace had put to making, and begot to my hand: but I wonder what language Tucca would have spoke, if honest Captain Hannam had been born without a tongue?Is’t not as lawful for me to imitate Horace, as Horace Hannam?Besides, if I had made an opposition of any other new-minted fellow, of what test so ever, he had been out-fac’d, and out-weighed by a settledapprobation: neither was it much improper to set the same dog upon Horace, whom Horace had set to worry others.
I could have, even with the feather of my pen, wipe off other ridiculous imputations, but my best way to answer them, is to laugh at them; only thus much I protest, and swear by the divinest part of true poesy, that, howsoever the limbs of my naked lines may be and I know have been, tortur’d on the rack, they are free from conspiring the least disgrace to any man, but only to our new Horace; neither should this ghost of Tucca, have walk’d up and down Paul’s church-yard, but that he was rais’d up, in print, by new exorcisms.World, if thy hugeness will believe this, do:if not, I care not; for I dedicate my book not to thy greatness, but to the greatness of thy scorn:defying which, let that mad dog Detraction bite till his teeth be worn to the stumps:Envy feed thy snakes so fat with poison till they burst:World, let all thy adders shoot out their hydra-headed-forked stings, ha, ha, nauci; if none will take my part, as I desire none, yet I thank thee, thou true Venusian Horaace, for these good words thou gui’st me:Populus me sibylat at mihi plaudo.World, farewell.
Malim Convivus quàm placuisse Cocis.
Act One, Scene One
ENTER TWO GENTLEWOMEN strewing of flowers.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
Come, bedfellow, come, strew apace, strew, strew; in good troth, ’tis pity that these flowers must be trodden under feet as they are like to be anon.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
Pity, alack, pretty heart, thou art sorry to see any good thing fall to the ground.Pity?No more pity, then to see an innocent maidenhead delivered up to the ruffling of her new-wedded husband.Beauty is made for use, and he that will not use a sweet soul well when she is under his fingers, I pray Venus he may never kiss a fair and a delicate, soft, red, plump lip.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
Amen, and that’s torment enough.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
Pity?Come, fool, fling them about lustily; flowers never die a sweeter death then when they are smother’d to death in a lover’s bosom, or else pave the highways, over which these pretty simp’ring jetting things call’d brides must trip.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
I prey thee tell me, why do they use at weddings to furnish all places thus, with sweet herbs and flowers?
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
One reason is, because ’tis, O, a most sweet thing to lie with a man.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
I think ’tis a, O, more, more, more, more sweet to lie with a woman.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
I warrant all men are of thy mind.Another reason is, because they stick like the scutchions of Madam Chastity, on the sable ground, weeping in their stalks, and winking with their yellow-sunk eyes, as loath to behold the lamentable fall of a maidenhead.What senseless thing in all the house, that is not now as melancholy as a new set-up schoolmaster!
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
Troth, I am.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
Troth, I think thou mournst, because th’ast mist thy turn, I do by the quiver of Cupid.You see the torches melt themselves away in tears; the instruments wear their heart-strings out for sorrow, and the sliver ewers weep most pitiful rosewater; five or six pair of the white innocent wedding gloves, did in my sight choose rather to be torn in pieces than to be drawn on ; and look, this rosemary, a fatal herb, this dean-man’s nosegay, the bride’s maidenhead, when, oh how much do we poor wenches suffer, about eleven or twelve, or one a’ clock at midnight at furthest, it descends to purgatory, to give notice that Cælestine, hey ho, will never come to lead apes in hell.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
I see by thy sighing thou wilt not.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
If I had as many maidenheads, as I have hairs on my head, I’d venture them all rather than to come into so hot a place.Prithee, strew thou, for my arms are weary.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
I am sure thy tongue is not.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
No, faith, that’s like a woman bitten with fleas; it never lies still.Fieupon’t!What a miserable thing ’tis to be a noble bride!There’s such delays in rising, in fitting gowns, in trying, in pinning rebatoes, in poking, in dinner, in supper, in revels, and last of all in cursing the poor nodding fiddlers, for keeping Mistress Bride so long up from sweeter revels;that, oh, I could never endure to put it up without much bickering.
FIRST GENTLEWOMAN
Come, th’art an odd wench.Hark, hark, music?Nay, then the bride’s up.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
Is she up?Nay then, I see she has been down.Lord, ha’ mercy on us, we women fall and fall still, and when we have husbands we play upon them like virgin
al jacks; they must rise and fall to our humours, or else they’ll never get any good strains of music out of us.But come now, have at it for a maidenhead.
As they strew, enter SIR QUINTILIAN SHORTHORSE with PETER FLASH and two or three Servingmen, with lights.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Come, knaves, night begins to be like myself, an old man; day plays the thief and steals upon us.Oh, well done, wenches, well done, well done; you have cover’d all the stony way to church with flowers; ’tis well, ’tis well; there’s an emblem too, to be made out of these flowers and stone, but you are honest wenches. In, in, in.
SECOND GENTLEWOMAN
When we come to your years, we shall learn what honesty is.Come, pew-fellow. [Exeunt GENTLEWOMEN.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Is the music come yet?So much to do!Is’t come?
OMNES
Come, sir.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Have the merry knaves pull’d their fiddle cases over their instruments’ ears?
FLASH
As soon as ere they entered out gates, the noise went, before they came near the great hall, the faint hearted villiacoes sounded at least thrice.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Thou shouldst have reviv’d them with a cup of burnt wine and sugar.Sirrah, you, horse-keeper, go, bid them curry their strings.Is my daughter up yet?
FLASH
Up, sir?She was seen up an hour ago.
SIR QUINTILIAN
She’s an early stirrer, ah sirrah.
FLASH
She’ll be a late stirrer soon at night, sir.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Go to, Peter Flash, you have a good sudden flash of brain, your wits husky, and no marvel, for ’tis like one of our comedians beards, still i’th’stubble.About your business, and look you be nimble to fly from the wine, or the nimble wine will catch you by the nose.
FLASH
If your wine play with my nose, sir, I’ll knock’s coxcomb.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Do, Peter, an wear it for thy labour.Is my son-in-law Sir Walter Tirell ready yet?
OMNES
Ready, sir.
SIR QUINTILIAN
One of you attend him.Stay, Flash, where’s the note of the guests you have invited? [Exit another.
FLASH
Here, sir.I’ll pull all your guests out of my bosom.The men that will come, I have cross’d, but all the gentlewomen have at the tail of the last letter a prick, because you may read them the better.
SIR QUINTILIAN
My spectacles, light, light, knaves.Sir Adam Prickshaft; thou hast cross’d him.He’ll come.
FLASH
I had much ado, sir, to draw Sir Adam Prickshaft home, because I told him ’twas early, but he’ll come.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Justice Crop.What will he come?
FLASH
He took physic yesterday, sir.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Oh, then Crop cannot come.
FLASH
Oh lord, yes, sir, yes, ’twas but to make more room in his crop for your good cheer.Crop will come.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Widow Miniver?
FLASH
She’s prick’d, you see, sir, and will come.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Sir Vaughan ap Rees; oh, he’s cross’d twice, so, so, so, then all these ladies that fall downwards here, will come, I see, and all these gentlemen that stand right before them.
FLASH
All will come.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Well said.Here, write them out again, and put the men from the women; and Peter, when we are at church bring wine and cakes; be light and nimble, good Flash, for your burden will be but light.
Enter SIR ADAM, a light before him.
Sir Adam Prickshaft, god morrow, god morrow.Go in, in, in to the bridegroom, taste a cup of burnt wine this morning.‘Twill make you fly the better all the day after.
SIR ADAM
You are an early stirrer, Sir Quintilian Shorthose.
SIR QUINTILIAN
I am so.It behoves me at my daughter’s wedding.In, in, in; fellow put out thy torch and put thyself into my buttery; the torch burns ill at thy hand, the wine will burn better in thy belly.In, in.
FLASH
Ware, there, room for Sir Adam Prickshaft!Your worship.
[Exit SIR ADAM and Servant.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Sir Vaughan and Widow Miniver, welcome, welcome, a thousand times.My lips, Mistress Widow, shall bid you god morrow.In, in, one to the bridegroom, the other to the bride.
SIR VAUGHAN
Why then, Sir Quintilian, I will step into Mistress bride, and Widow Miniver shall go upon Master Bridegroom.
MISTRESS MINIVER
No, pardon, for by my truly, Sir Vaughan, I’ll ha’ no dealings with any Master Bridegroom.
SIR QUINTILIAN
In, widow, in; in, honest knight, in.
SIR VAUGHAN
I will usher you, mistress widow.
FLASH
Light there, for Sir Vaughan.Your good worship.
SIR VAUGHAN
Drink that shilling, Master Peter Flash, in your guts and belly.
FLASH
I’ll not drink it down, sir, but I’ll turn it into that which shall run down, oh merrily!
[ExitSIR VAUGHAN and MISTRESS MINIVER.
Enter BLUNT, CRISPINUS, DEMETRIUS, and others with Ladies, lights before them.
SIR QUINTILIAN
God morrow to these beauties, and gentlemen, that have ushered this troop of ladies to my daughter’s wedding, welcome, welcome all.Music?Nay then the bridegroom’s coming.Where are these knaves here?
FLASH
All here, sir.
Enter TERILL, SIR ADAM, SIR VAUGHEN,CÆLESTINE, MINIVER, and other Ladies, [DIACACHE, PHILOCALIA, PETULA], and attendants with lights.
TERILL
God morrow, ladies, and fair troops of gallants,
That have depos’d the drowsy king of sleep,
To crown our train with your rich presences,
I salute you all.
CRISPINUS
God morrow, Master Bridegroom, Mistress Bride.
OMNES
God morrow, Master Bridegroom.
TERILL
Gallants, I shall entreat you to prepare
For masques and revels to defeat the night,
Our sovereign will in person grace our marriage.
SIR QUINTILIAN
What will the king be here?
TERILL
Father, he will.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Where be these knaves?More rosemary and gloves,
Gloves, gloves; choose, gentlemen; ladies, put on
Soft skins upon the skin of softer hands;
So, so; come Mistress Bride, take you your place,
The old man first, and then the bachelors;
Maids with the bride, widows and wives together,
The priest’s at church; ’tis time that we march thither.
TERILL
Dear Blunt at our return from church, take pains
To step to Horace, for our nuptial songs.
Now, father, when you please.
SIR QUINTILIAN
Agreed, set on.
Come, good Sir Vaughan, must we lead the way?
SIR VAUGHAN
Peter, you go too fast for Mistress Pride; so, gingerly, gingerly.I muse why Sir Adam Prickshaft sticks so short behind?
SIR QUINTILIAN
He follows close; not too fast; hold up, knaves;
Thus we lead youth to church, they us to graves.[Exeunt.
Act One, Scene Two
HORACE SITTING IN a study behind a curtain; a candle by his burning, books lying confusedly; to himself.
HORACE
“To thee whose forehead swells with roses;
Whose most haunted bower
Gives life to every flower,
Whose most adored name encloses
&
nbsp; Things abstruse, deep and divine,
Whose yellow tresses shine,
Bright as Eoan fire.
O me thy priest inspire!
For I to thee and thine immortal name,”
In — in — in golden times,
“For I to thee and thine immortal name”
In — sacred raptures swimming,
Immortal name, game, dame, tame, lame, lame, lame,
Pux, ha it, shame, proclaim, oh —
In sacred raptures flowing, will proclaim, not —
“O me thy priest inspire!
For I to thee and thine immortal name,
In flowing numbers fill’d with sprite and flame.”
Good, good, in flowing numbers fill’d with sprite and flame.
Enter ASINIUS BUBO.
ASINIUS
Horace, Horace, my sweet Ningle, is always in labour when I come; the nine muses be his midwives, I pray Jupiter.Ningle!
HORACE
In flowing numbers fill’d with sprite and flame,
To thee.
ASINIUS
To me?I pledge thee, sweet ningle, by Bacchus’ quaffing bowl, I thought th’adst drunk to me.
HORACE
It must have been in the divine liquor of Parnassus, then, in which I know you would scarce have pledg’d me, but some sweet rogue, sit, sit, sit.
ASINIUS
Over head and ears, i’faith?I have a sack full of news for thee, thou shalt plague some of them if God send us life and health together.
HORACE
It’s no matter, empty thy sack anon, but come here first, honest rogue, come.
ASINIUS
Is’t good, pure Helicon, ha?
HORACE
Damn me if’t be not the best that ever came from me, if I have any judgement, look sir, ’tis an Ephitalamium for Sir Walter Terril’s wedding; my brains have given assault to it but this morning.
ASINIUS
Then I hope to see them fly out like gunpowder ere night.
HORACE
Nay, good rogue, mark, for they are the best lines that ever I drew.
ASINIUS
Here’s the best leaf in England, but on, on, I’ll but tune this pipe.
HORACE
Mark, “to thee whose forehead swells with roses.”
ASINIUS
Oh sweet, but will there be no exceptions taken, because forehead and swelling
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 94