Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker
Page 144
LEAPFROG
Good; forth.
SQIRREL
I overheard her last night talking with thy master, and she promis’d him that as soon as her husband was asleep, she would walk according to her custom, and come to his chamber, marry she would do it so puritanically, so secretly I mean, that nobody should hear of it.
LEAPFROG
Is’t possible?
SQUIRREL
Take but that corner and stand alone, and thine eyes shall witness it.
LEAPFROG
O intolerable wit!What hold can any man take of a woman’s honesty?
SQUIRREL
Hold! no more hold then of a bull ‘nointed with soap, and bathed with a shoal of fiddlers in Staffordshire.Stand close, I hear her coming. [They withdraw.
Enter KATE.
KATE
What a filthy knave was the shoemaker, that made my slippers; what a creaking they keep.Oh Lord! if there be any power that can make a woman’s husband sleep soundly at a pinch, as I have often read in foolish poetry that there is, now, now, and it be thy will, let him dream some fine dream or other, that he’s made a knight, or a nobleman, or somewhat whilst I go and takebut two kisses from sweet Featherstone.[Exit.
SQUIRREL
‘Sfoot, he may well dream he’s made a knight, for I’ll be hang’d if she do not dub him.
Enter GREENSHIELD.
GREENSHIELD
Was there ever any walking spirit like to my wife?What reason should there be in nature for this?I will question some physician, nor hear neither.Ud’s life, I would laugh if she were in Master Featherstone’s chamber; she would fright him.Master Featherstone!Master Featherstone!
FEATHERSTONE
[Within.] Ha, how now, who calls?
GREENSHIELD
Did you leave your door open last night?
FEATHERSTONE
[Within.] I know not.I think my boy did.
GREENSHIELD
God’s light, she’s there then!Will you know the jest?My wife hath her old tricks.I’ll hold my life my wife’s in your chamber.Rise out of your bed and see and you can feel her.
SQUIRREL
He will feel her, I warrant you.
GREENSHIELD
Have you her, sir?
FEATHERSTONE
[Within] Not yet, sir.She’s here, sir.
GREENSHIELD
So I said even now to myself, before God, la!Take her up in your arms and bring her hither softly for fear of waking her.
Enter FEATHERSTONE and KATE in his arms.
I never knew the like of this, before God, la!Alas, poor Kate, look before God.She’s asleep with her eyes open; pretty little rogue.I’ll wake her, and make her asham’d of it.
FEATHERSTONE
Oh, you’ll make her sicker then.
GREENSHIELD
I warrant you, would all women thought no more hurt then thou dost now, sweet villain, Kate, Kate.
KATE
I long’d for the merry thought of a pheasant.
GREENSHIELD
She talks in her sleep.
KATE
And the foul-gutted tripe-wife had got it, and eat half of it, and my colour went and came, and my stomach wambled till I was ready to sound; but a midwife perceived it, and mark’d which way my eyes went, and help’d me to it, but lord, how I pick’d it; ’twas the sweetest meat methought.
SQUIRREL
O, politic mistress!
GREENSHIELD
Why, Kate, Kate?
KATE
Ha, ha, ha, I beshrew your heart.Lord, where am I?
GREENSHIELD
I pray thee, be not frightened.
KATE
O, I am sick, I am sick, I am sick!O, how my flesh trembles! Oh, some of the Angelica water.I shall have the mother presently.
GREENSHIELD
Hold down her stomach, good Master Featherstone, while I fetch some.[Exit.
FEATHERSTONE
Well dissembled, Kate.
KATE
Pish, I am like some of your ladies that can be sick when they have no stomach to lie with their husbands.
FEATHERSTONE
What mischievous fortune is this?We’ll have a journey to Ware, Kate, to redeem this misfortune.
KATE
Well, cheaters do not win all ways; that woman that will entertain a friend must as well provide a closet or back door for him, as a feather bed.
FEATHERSTONE
By my troth, I pity thy husband.
KATE
Pity, him, no man dares call him cuckold, for he wear satin.Pity him, he that will pull down a man’s sign, and set up horns; there’s law for him.
FEATHERSTONE
Be sick again; your husband comes.
Enter GREENSHIELD with a broken shin.
GREENSHIELD
I have the worst luck!I think I get more bumps and shrewd turns i’th’ dark.How does she, Master Featherstone?
FEATHERSTONE
Very ill, sir; she’s troubled with the mother extremely; I held down her belly even now and I might feel it rise.
KATE
Oh, lay me in my bed, I beseech you.
GREENSHIELD
I will find a remedy for this walking, if all the doctors in town can sell it’ a thousand pound to a penny she spoil not her face, or break her neck, or catch a cold that she may ne’er claw off again.How dost, wench?
KATE
A little recover’d.Alas, I have so troubled that gentleman!
FEATHERSTONE
None i’th’ world, Kate.May I do you any further service?
KATE
[Aside.] And I were where I would be, in your bed… [Aloud.] Pray, pardon me, wast you, Master Featherstone? [Aside.] …I should be well then.
SQUIRREL
Mark how she wrings him by the fingers.
KATE
Good night; pray you, give the gentleman thanks for patience.
GREENSHIELD
Good night, sir.
FEATHERSTONE
You have a shrewd blow; you were best have it search’d.
GREENSHIELD
A scratch, a scratch.[Exeunt GREENSHIELD and KATE.
FEATHERSTONE
Let me see what excuse should I frame, to get this wench forth a town with me:I’ll persuade her husband to take physic and presently have a letter framed from his father-in-law, to be deliver’d that morning, for his wife to come and receive some small parcel of money in Enfield Chase at a keeper’s that is her uncle, then, sir, he not being in case to travel, will entreat me to accompany his wife; we’ll lie at Ware all night, and the next morning to London.I’ll go strike a tinder and frame a letter presently.[Exit.
SQUIRREL
And I’ll take pains to discover all this to my master, old Mayberry; there goes a report a good while.My master hath used them kindly because they have been over familiar with his wife, but I see which way Featherstone looks.‘Sfoot, there’s ne’er a gentleman of them al shall gull a citizen, and think to go scot-free, though your commons shrink for this be but secret, and my master shall entertain thee, make thee instead of handling false dice finger nothing but gold and silver wag; an old serving-man turns to a young beggar, whereas a young prentice may turn to an old alderman; wilt be secret?
LEAPFROG
O God, sir! as secret as rushes in an old lady’s chamber. [Exeunt.
Act Four, Scene One
Enter BELLAMONT in his night-cap, with leaves in his hand, his
Man after him with lights, standish, and paper.
BELLAMONT
Sirrah, I’ll speak with none.
SERVANT
Not a player?
BELLAMONT
No, though a sharer ball;
I’ll speak with none, although it be the mouth
Of the big company.I’ll speak with none.Away![Exit Servant.
Why should not I be an excellent statesman?I can, in the writing of a tragedy, make Cæsar speak better then ever his ambition c
ould; when I write of Pompey, I have Pompey’s soul within me; and when I personate a worthy poet, I am then truly myself, a poor unprefer’d scholar.
Enter his Man hastily.
SERVANT
Here’s a swaggering fellow, sir, that speaks not like a man of God’s making, swears he must speak with you and will speak with you.
BELLAMONT
Not of God’s making?What is he, a cuckold?
SERVANT
He’s a gentleman, sir, by his clothes.
BELLAMONT
Enter him and his clothes.[Exit Servant.] Clothes sometimes are better gentlemen than their masters.
Enter CAPTAIN JENKINS and the Servant.
Is this he?Seek you me, sir?[Exit Servant.
CAPTAIN
I seek, sir, God please you, for a sentleman, that talks besides to himself when he’s alone, as if he were in Bedlam, and he’s a poet.
BELLAMONT
So, sir, it may be you seek me, for I’m sometimes out a’ my wits.
CAPTAIN
You are a poet, sir, are you?
BELLAMONT
I’m haunted with a Fury, sir.
CAPTAIN
Pray, master poet, shut off this little pot-gun, and I will conjure your fury.’Tis well, loog you, sir, my desires are to have some amiable and amorous sonnet or madrigal composed by your Fury, see you.
BELLAMONT
Are you a lover, sir, of the Nine Muses?
CAPTAIN
Oy, by Gad, out a cry!
BELLAMONT
Y’are then a scholar, sir?
CAPTAIN
I ha’ pick’d up my crumbs in Sesus college in Oxford one day a gad while ago.
BELLAMONT
Y’are welcome, y’are very welcome.I’ll borrow your judgement.Look you, sir, I’m writing a tragedy, the tragedy of young Astyanax.
CAPTAIN
Styanax tragedy!Is he living, can you tell?Was not Styanax a Monmouth man?
BELLAMONT
O no, sir, you mistake; he was a Trojan, great Hector’s son.
CAPTAIN
Hector was a grannam to Cadwallader, when she was great with child, God udge me, there was one young Styanan of Monmouthshire was a madder Greek as any is in all England.
BELLAMONT
This was not he, assure ye.Look you, sir, I will have this tragedy presented in the French court by French gallants.
CAPTAIN
By God, your Frenchmen will do a tragedy interlude poggy well!
BELLAMONT
It shall be, sir, at the marriages of the Duke of Orleans, and Chatillon, the admiral of France; the stage —
CAPTAIN
Ud’s blood!Does Orleans marry with the Admiral of France now?
BELLAMONT
O, sir, no; they are two several marriages.As I was saying, the stage hung all with black velvet, and while ’tis acted, myself will stand behind the Duke of Biron, or some other chief minion or so, who shall, ay, they shall take some occasion about the music of the fourth act, to step to the French king, and say “Sire, voilà, il et votre treshumble serviteur, le plu sage è divine esprit, Monsieur Bellamont,” all in French thus pointing at me, or yon is the learned old English gentleman, Master Bellamont, a very worthy man, to be one of your privy chamber, or poet laureate.
CAPTAIN
But are you sure Duke Pepper-noone will give you such good ords behind your back to your face?
BELLAMONT
Oh, ay, ay, ay, man; he’s the only courtier that I know there; but what do you think that I may come to by this?
CAPTAIN
God udge me, all France may hap die in your debt for this!
BELLAMONT
I am now writing the description of his death.
CAPTAIN
Did he die in his ped?
BELLAMONT
You shall hear: suspicion is the minion of great hearts — no, I will not begin there.Imagine a great man were to be executed about the seventh hour in a gloomy morning.
CAPTAIN
As it might be Sampson or so, or great Golias that was kill’d by my countryman.
BELLAMONT
Right, sir, this I express it in young Astyanax.
Now the wild people greedy of their griefs,
Longing to see that which their thoughts abhor’d,
Prevented day, and rod on their own roofs.
CAPTAIN
Could the little horse that ambled on the top of Paul’s carry all the people, else how could they ride on the roofs?
BELLAMONT
O, sir, ’tis a figure in poetry; mark how ’tis followed:
Rod on their own roofs,
Making all neighbouring houses til’d all with men, til’d with men!Is’t not good?
CAPTAIN
By Sesu! and it were tild’d all with naked ‘imen, ‘twere better!
BELLAMONT
You shall hear no more; pick your ears, they are foul, sir; what are you, sir, pray?
CAPTAIN
A captain, sir, and a follower of god Mars.
BELLAMONT
Mars, Bacchus, and I love Apollo!A captain!Then I pardon you, sir, and captain, what would you press me for?
CAPTAIN
For a witty ditty to a sentlewoman that I am fall’n in with all, over head and ears in affections, and natural desires.
BELLAMONT
An acrostic were good upon her name, methinks.
CAPTAIN
Cross sticks!I would not be cross, Master Poet; yet if it be best to bring her name in question, his name is Mistress Dorothy Hornet.
BELLAMONT
[Aside.] The very consumption that wastes my son, and the aim that hung lately upon me![Aloud.] Do you love this Mistress Dorothy?
CAPTAIN
Love her!There is no captain’s wife in all England can have more love put upon her, and yet I’m sure captain’s wives have their pellies full of good men’s loves!
BELLAMONT
And does she love you?Has thee pass’d any great matter between you?
CAPTAIN
As great a matter as a whole coach, and a horse and his wife are gone too and fro between us.
BELLAMONT
Is she — i’faith, captain, be valiant and tell truth, is she honest?
CAPTAIN
Honest?God udge me, she’s as honest as a punk that cannot abide fornication and lechery.
BELLAMONT
Look you, captain, I’ll show you why I ask; I hope you think my wenching days are past, yet, sir, here’s a letter that her father brought me from her, and enforc’d me to take this very day.
Enter a Servant and whispers to BELLAMONT.
CAPTAIN
’Tis for some love song to send to me, I hold my life.
BELLAMONT
This falls out pat.My man tells me the party is at my door.Shall she come in, captain?
CAPTAIN
Oh, ay, ay, put her in, I pray now.[Exit Servant.
BELLAMONT
The letter says here, that she’s exceeding sick and entreats me to visit her.Captain, lie you in ambush behind the hangings, and perhaps you shall hear the piece of a comedy.She comes, she comes; mark yourself away.
CAPTAIN
Does the poet play Torkin and cast my Lucrece’s water too in hugger-muggers?If he do, Styanax tragedy was never so horrible bloody minded as his comedy shall be.Tawsone [“hold your tongue”], Captain Jenkins. [ Conceals himself.
Enter DOLL.
DOLL
Now, Master Poet, I sent for you.
BELLAMONT
And I came once to your ladyship’s call.
DOLL
My ladyship and your lordship lie both in one manner; you have conjur’d up a sweet spirit in me, have you not rhymer?
BELLAMONT
Why, Medea! What spirit!Would I were a young man for thy sake!
DOLL
So would I, for then thou couldst do me no hurt; now, thou dost.
BELLAMONT
>
If I were a yonker, it would be no immodesty in me to be seen in thy company, but to have snow in the lap of June, vile, vile!Yet come; garlic has a white head and a green stalk; then why should not I?Let’s be merry.What says the devil to all the world, for I’m sure thou art carnally posses’d with him.
DOLL
Thou hast a filthy foot, a very filthy carriers foot.
BELLAMONT
A filthy shoe, but a fine foot; I stand not upon my foot, I.
CAPTAIN
[Aside.] What stands he upon then?With a pox, God bless us!
DOLL
A leg and a calf!I have had better of a butcher forty times for carrying!
A body not worth begging by a barber-surgeon!
BELLAMONT
Very good, you draw me and quarter me; Fates keep me from hanging!
DOLL
And which most turns up a woman’s stomach!Thou art an old hoary man; thou hast gone over the bridge of many years and now art ready to drop into a grave.What do I see then in that withered face of thine?
BELLAMONT
Wrinkles, gravity.
DOLL
Wretchedness, grief.Old fellow, thou hast bewitch me; I can neither eat for thee nor sleep for thee, not lie quietly in my bed for thee.
CAPTAIN
[Aside.] Ud’s blood!I did never see a white flea before.I will cling you!
DOLL
I was born sure in the dog days, I’m so unlucky.I, in whom neither a flaxen hair, yellow beard, French doublet, not Spanish hose, youth nor personage, rich face nor money could ever breed a true love to any, ever to any man, am now besotted, dote, am mad, for the carcass of a man, and as if I were a bawd, no ring please me but a death’s head.
CAPTAIN
[Aside.] Sesu!Are ‘imen so arsy varsy?
BELLAMONT
Mad for me?Why, if the worm of lust were wriggling within me as it does in others, dost think I’d crawl upon thee?Would I low after thee that art a common calf-bearer?
DOLL
I confess it.
CAPTAIN
[Aside.] Do you?Are you a town cow and confess you bear calves?
DOLL