Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker

by Thomas Dekker

  Like bears and apes, you’re baited and show tricks

  For money; but your bawd the sweetness licks.

  Indeed, you are their journey-women, and do

  All base and damned works they list set you to:

  So that you ne’er are rich; for do but show me,

  In present memory, or in ages past,

  The fairest and most famous courtesan,

  Whose flesh was dear’st: that raised the price of sin,

  And held it up; to whose intemperate bosom,

  Princes, earls, lords, the worst has been a knight,

  The mean’st a gentleman, have offered up

  Whole hecatombs of sighs, and rained in showers

  Handfuls of gold; yet, for all this, at last

  Diseases sucked her marrow, then grew so poor,

  That she has begged e’en at a beggar’s door.

  And (wherein Heaven has a finger) when this idol,

  From coast to coast, has leapt on foreign shores,

  And had more worship than th’outlandish whores:

  When several nations have gone over her,

  When for each several city she has seen,

  Her maidenhead has been new, and been sold dear:

  Did live well there, and might have died unknown,

  And undefamed; back comes she to her own,

  And there both miserably lives and dies,

  Scorned even of those that once adored her eyes,

  As if her fatal circled life thus ran,

  Her pride should end there, where it first began.

  What do you weep to hear your story read?

  Nay, if you spoil your cheeks, I’ll read no more.

  Bell. O yes, I pray, proceed:

  Indeed, ‘twill do me good to weep, indeed.

  Hip. To give those tears a relish, this I add,

  You’re like the Jews, scattered, in no place certain,

  Your days are tedious, your hours burdensome:

  And were’t not for full suppers, midnight revels,

  Dancing, wine, riotous meetings, which do drown,

  And bury quite in you all virtuous thoughts,

  And on your eyelids hang so heavily,

  They have no power to look so high as Heaven, —

  You’d sit and muse on nothing but despair,

  Curse that devil Lust, that so burns up your blood,

  And in ten thousand shivers break your glass

  For his temptation. Say you taste delight,

  To have a golden gull from rise to set,

  To mete you in his hot luxurious arms,

  Yet your nights pay for all: I know you dream

  Of warrants, whips, and beadles, and then start

  At a door’s windy creak: think every weasel

  To be a constable, and every rat

  A long-tailed officer: Are you now not slaves?

  Oh, you’ve damnation without pleasure for it!

  Such is the state of harlots. To conclude:

  When you are old and can well paint no more,

  You turn bawd, and are then worse than before:

  Make use of this: farewell.

  Bell. Oh, I pray, stay.

  Hip. I see Matheo comes not: time hath barred me;

  Would all the harlots in the town had heard me. [Exit.

  Bell. Stay yet a little longer! No? quite gone!

  Curst be that minute — for it was no more,

  So soon a maid is changed into a whore —

  Wherein I first fell! be it for ever black!

  Yet why should sweet Hippolito shun mine eyes?

  For whose true love I would become pure, honest,

  Hate the world’s mixtures, and the smiles of gold.

  Am I not fair? why should he fly me then?

  Fair creatures are desired, not scorned of men.

  How many gallants have drunk healths to me,

  Out of their daggered arms, and thought them blest,

  Enjoying but mine eyes at prodigal feasts!

  And does Hippolito detest my love?

  Oh, sure their heedless lusts but flattered me,

  I am not pleasing, beautiful, nor young.

  Hippolito hath spied some ugly blemish,

  Eclipsing all my beauties: I am foul:

  Harlot! Ay, that’s the spot that taints my soul.

  What! has he left his weapon here behind him

  And gone forgetful? O fit instrument

  To let forth all the poison of my flesh!

  Thy master hates me, ‘cause my blood hath ranged:

  But when ’tis forth, then he’ll believe I’m changed.

  As she is about to stab herself re-enter Hippolito.

  Hip. Mad woman, what art doing?

  Bell. Either love me,

  Or split my heart upon thy rapier’s point:

  Yet do not neither; for thou then destroy’st

  That which I love thee for — thy virtues. Here, here; [Gives sword to Hippolito.

  Th’art crueller, and kill’st me with disdain:

  To die so, sheds no blood, yet ’tis worse pain. [Exit Hippolito.

  Not speak to me! Not bid farewell? a scorn?

  Hated! this must not be; some means I’ll try.

  Would all whores were as honest now as I! [Exit.

  ACT THE THIRD.

  SCENE I. — Candido’s Shop.

  CANDIDO, VIOLA, GEORGE, and two Prentices discovered: Fustigo enters, walking by.

  Geo. See, gentlemen, what you lack; a fine holland, a fine cambric: see what you buy.

  1st Pren. Holland for shirts, cambric for bands; what is’t you lack?

  Fus. ‘Sfoot, I lack ’em all; nay, more, I lack money to buy ’em. Let me see, let me look again: mass, this is the shop. [Aside.] What coz! sweet coz! how dost, i’faith, since last night after candlelight? we had good sport, i’faith, had we not? and when shall’s laugh again?

  Vio. When you will, cousin.

  Fus. Spoke like a kind Lacedemonian: I see yonder’s thy husband.

  Vio. Ay, there’s the sweet youth, God bless him!

  Fus. And how is’t, cousin? and how, how is’t, thou squall?

  Vio. Well, cousin, how fare you?

  Fus. How fare I? for sixpence a-meal, wench, as well as heart can wish, with calves’ chaldrons, and chitterlings; besides, I have a punk after supper, as good as a roasted apple.

  Cand. Are you my wife’s cousin?

  Fus. I am, sir; what hast thou to do with that?

  Cand. O, nothing, but you’re welcome.

  Fus. The devil’s dung in thy teeth! I’ll be welcome whether thou wilt or no, I. — What ring’s this, coz? very pretty and fantastical, i’faith! let’s see it.

  Vio. Pooh! nay, you wrench my finger.

  Fus. I ha’ sworn I’ll ha’t, and I hope you will not let my oaths be cracked in the ring, will you? [Seizes the ring.] I hope, sir, you are not malicholly at this, for all your great looks: are you angry?

  Cand. Angry? not I, sir, nay if she can part

  So easily with her ring, ’tis with my heart.

  Geo. Suffer this, sir, and suffer all, a whoreson gull, to —

  Cand. Peace George, when she has reaped what I have sown,

  She’ll say, one grain tastes better of her own,

  Than whole sheaves gathered from another’s land:

  Wit’s never good, till bought at a dear hand.

  Geo. But in the mean-time she makes an ass of some body.

  2nd Pren. See, see, see, sir, as you turn your back they do nothing but kiss.

  Cand. No matter, let ’em: when I touch her lip,

  I shall not feel his kisses, no, nor miss

  Any of her lip: no harm in kissing is.

  Look to your business, pray, make up your wares.

  Fus. Troth, coz, and well remembered, I would thou wouldst give me five yards of lawn, to make my punk some falling bands a’ the fashion; three falling one upon another, for that’s the new edition now: she’s out of
linen horribly, too; troth, sh’ as never a good smock to her back neither, but one that has a great many patches in’t, and that I’m fain to wear myself for want of shift, too: prithee, put me into wholesome napery, and bestow some clean commodities upon us.

  Vio. Reach me those cambrics, and the lawns hither.

  Cand. What to do, wife? to lavish out my goods upon a fool?

  Fus. Fool? Snails, eat the fool, or I’ll so batter your crown, that it shall scarce go for five shillings.

  2nd Pren. Do you hear, sir? you’re best be quiet, and say a fool tells you so.

  Fus. Nails, I think so, for thou tellest me.

  Cand. Are you angry, sir, because I named the fool?

  Trust me, you are not wise in my own house,

  And to my face to play the antic thus:

  If you needs play the madman, choose a stage

  Of lesser compass, where few eyes may note

  Your action’s error: but if still you miss,

  As here you do, for one clap, ten will hiss.

  Fus. Zounds, cousin, he talks to me, as if I were a scurvy tragedian.

  2nd Pren. Sirrah George, I ha’ thought upon a device, how to break his pate, beat him soundly, and ship him away.

  Geo. Do’t.

  2nd Pren. I’ll go in, pass through the house, give some of our fellow-prentices the watch-word when they shall enter; then come and fetch my master in by a wile, and place one in the hall to hold him in conference, whilst we cudgel the gull out of his coxcomb. [Exit 2nd Prentice.

  Geo. Do’t: away, do’t.

  Vio. Must I call twice for these cambrics and lawns?

  Cand. Nay see, you anger her, George, prithee despatch.

  1st Pren. Two of the choicest pieces are in the warehouse, sir.

  Cand. Go fetch them presently.

  Fus. Ay, do, make haste, sirrah. [Exit 1st Prentice.

  Cand. Why were you such a stranger all this while, being my wife’s cousin?

  Fus. Stranger? no sir, I’m a natural Milaner born.

  Cand. I perceive still it is your natural guise to mistake me, but you are welcome, sir; I much wish your acquaintance.

  Fus. My acquaintance? I scorn that, i’faith; I hope my acquaintance goes in chains of gold three and fifty times double: — you know who I mean, coz; the posts of his gate are a-painting too.

  Re-enter the 2nd Prentice.

  2nd Pren. Signor Pandulfo the merchant desires conference with you.

  Cand. Signor Pandulfo? I’ll be with him straight,

  Attend your mistress and the gentleman. [Exit.

  Vio. When do you show those pieces?

  Fus. Ay, when do you show those pieces?

  Prentices. [Within.] Presently, sir, presently: we are but charging them.

  Fus. Come, sirrah: you flat-cap, where be these whites?

  Re-enter 1st Prentice with pieces.

  Geo. Flat-cap? hark in your ear, sir, you’re a flat fool, an ass, a gull, and I’ll thrum you: — do you see this cambric, sir?

  Fus. ‘Sfoot coz, a good jest, did you hear him? he told me in my ears, I was a “flat fool, an ass, a gull, and I’ll thrum you: — do you see this cambric sir?”

  Vio. What, not my men, I hope?

  Fus. No, not your men, but one of your men i’faith.

  1st Pren. I pray, sir, come hither, what say you to this? here’s an excellent good one.

  Fus. Ay, marry, this likes me well; cut me off some half-score yards.

  2nd Pren. Let your whores cut; you’re an impudent coxcomb; you get none, and yet I’ll thrum you: — a very good cambric, sir.

  Fus. Again, again, as God judge me! ‘Sfoot, coz, they stand thrumming here with me all day, and yet I get nothing.

  1st Pren. A word, I pray, sir, you must not be angry. Prentices have hot bloods, young fellows, — what say you to this piece? Look you, ’tis so delicate, so soft, so even, so fine a thread, that a lady may wear it.

  Fus. ‘Sfoot, I think so, if a knight marry my punk, a lady shall wear it: cut me off twenty yards: thou’rt an honest lad.

  1st Pren. Not without money, gull, and I’ll thrum you too.

  Prentices. [Within.] Gull, we’ll thrum you.

  Fus. O Lord, sister, did you not hear something cry thrum? zounds, your men here make a plain ass of me.

  Vio. What, to my face so impudent?

  Geo. Ay, in a cause so honest, we’ll not suffer

  Our master’s goods to vanish moneyless.

  Vio. You will not suffer them?

  2nd Pren. No, and you may blush,

  In going about to vex so mild a breast,

  As is our master’s.

  Vio. Take away those pieces.

  Cousin, I give them freely.

  Fus. Mass, and I’ll take ’em as freely.

  Geo., 1st and 2nd Pren., and other prentices, rushing in. We’ll make you lay ’em down again more freely. [They all attack Fustigo with their clubs.

  Vio. Help, help! my brother will be murdered.

  Re-enter Candido.

  Cand. How now, what coil is here? forbear I say. [Exeunt all the Prentices except the 1st and 2nd.

  Geo. He calls us flat-caps, and abuses us.

  Cand. Why, sirs, do such examples flow from me?

  Vio. They’re of your keeping, sir. Alas, poor brother.

  Fus. I’faith they ha’ peppered me, sister; look, dost not spin? call you these prentices? I’ll ne’er play at cards more when clubs is trump: I have a goodly coxcomb, sister, have I not?

  Cand. Sister and brother? brother to my wife?

  Fus. If you have any skill in heraldry, you may soon know that; break but her pate, and you shall see her blood and mine is all one.

  Cand. A surgeon! run, a surgeon! [Exit 1st Prentice.] Why then wore you that forged name of cousin?

  Fus. Because it’s a common thing to call coz, and ningle now-a-days all the world over.

  Cand. Cousin! A name of much deceit, folly, and sin,

  For under that common abused word,

  Many an honest-tempered citizen

  Is made a monster, and his wife trained out

  To foul adulterous action, full of fraud.

  I may well call that word, a city’s bawd.

  Fus. Troth, brother, my sister would needs ha’ me take upon me to gull your patience a little: but it has made double gules on my coxcomb.

  Vio. What, playing the woman? blabbing now, you fool?

  Cand. Oh, my wife did but exercise a jest upon your wit.

  Fus. ‘Sfoot, my wit bleeds for’t, methinks.

  Cand. Then let this warning more of sense afford;

  The name of cousin is a bloody word.

  Fus. I’ll ne’er call coz again whilst I live, to have such a coil about it; this should be a coronation day; for my head runs claret lustily. [Exit.

  Cand. Go, wish the surgeon to have great respect — [Exit 2nd Prentice.

  Enter an Officer.

  How now, my friend? what, do they sit to day?

  Offi. Yes, sir, they expect you at the senate-house.

  Cand. I thank your pains; I’ll not be last man there. — [Exit Officer.

  My gown, George, go, my gown. [Exit George.] A happy land,

  Where grave men meet each cause to understand;

  Whose consciences are not cut out in bribes

  To gull the poor man’s right; but in even scales,

  Peize rich and poor, without corruption’s vails.

  Re-enter George.

  Come, where’s the gown?

  Geo. I cannot find the key, sir.

  Cand. Request it of your mistress.

  Vio. Come not to me for any key;

  I’ll not be troubled to deliver it.

  Cand. Good wife, kind wife, it is a needful trouble, but for my gown!

  Vio. Moths swallow down your gown!

  You set my teeth on edge with talking on’t.

  Cand. Nay, prithee, sweet, — I cannot meet without it,

  I should have a great f
ine set on my head.

  Vio. Set on your coxcomb; tush, fine me no fines.

  Cand. Believe me, sweet, none greets the senate-house,

  Without his robe of reverence, — that’s his gown.

  Vio. Well, then, you’re like to cross that custom once;

  You get no key, nor gown; and so depart. —

  This trick will vex him sure, and fret his heart. [Aside and Exit.

  Cand. Stay, let me see, I must have some device, —

  My cloak’s too short: fie, fie, no cloak will do’t;

  It must be something fashioned like a gown,

  With my arms out. Oh George, come hither, George:

  I prithee, lend me thine advice.

  Geo. Troth, sir, were’t any but you, they would break open chest.

  Cand. O no! break open chest! that’s a thief’s office;

  Therein you counsel me against my blood:

  ’Twould show impatience that: any meek means

  I would be glad to embrace. Mass, I have got it.

  Go, step up, fetch me down one of the carpets,

  The saddest-coloured carpet, honest George,

  Cut thou a hole i’th’ middle for my neck,

  Two for mine arms. Nay, prithee, look not strange.

  Geo. I hope you do not think, sir, as you mean.

  Cand. Prithee, about it quickly, the hour chides me:

  Warily, George, softly, take heed of eyes, [Exit George.

  Out of two evils he’s accounted wise,

  That can pick out the least; the fine imposed

  For an un-gowned senator, is about

  Forty crusadoes, the carpet not ‘bove four.

  Thus have I chosen the lesser evil yet,

  Preserved my patience, foiled her desperate wit.

  Re-enter George with carpet.

  Geo. Here, sir, here’s the carpet.

  Cand. O well done, George, we’ll cut it just i’th’ midst. [They cut the carpet.

  ’Tis very well; I thank thee: help it on.

  Geo. It must come over your head, sir, like a wench’s petticoat.

  Cand. Thou’rt in the right, good George; it must indeed.

  Fetch me a night-cap: for I’ll gird it close,

  As if my health were queasy: ‘twill show well

  For a rude, careless night-gown, will’t not, think’st?

  Geo. Indifferent well, sir, for a night-gown, being girt and pleated.

  Cand. Ay, and a night-cap on my head.

  Geo. That’s true sir, I’ll run and fetch one, and a staff. [Exit.