Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker

by Thomas Dekker

  GREENSHIELD

  For a woman.Look you, sir, here’s a crown to provide his supper.He’s a gentleman of a very good house; you shall be paid well if you convert him.To-morrow morning, bedding, and a gown shall be sent in, and wood and coal.

  FULL-MOON

  No, sir, he must have no fire.

  GREENSHIELD

  No?Why, look you what straw you buy for him; shall return you a whole harvest.

  OMNES

  Let his straw be fresh and sweet, we beseech you, sir.

  GREENSHIELD

  Get a couple of your sturdiest fellows and bind him, I pray, whilst we slip out of his sight.

  FULL-MOON

  I’ll hamper him, I warrant, gentlemen.[Exeunt.

  OMNES

  Excellent.

  MAYBERRY

  But how will my noble poet take it at my hands, to betray him thus?

  OMNES

  Foh!’Tis but a jest; he comes.

  Enter Musician and BELLAMONT.

  BELLAMONT

  Pardonnez-moi, si Io dimando del vostro nome.Oh, whether shrunk you.I have h ad such a mad dialogue here.

  OMNES

  We ha’ been with the other mad folks.

  MAYBERRY

  And what says he and his prick-song?

  BELLAMONT

  We were up to the ears in Italian i’faith.

  OMNES

  In Italian!Oh, good Master Bellamont, let’s hear him.

  Enter FULL-MOON and two Keepers.The rest steal away.

  BELLAMONT

  How now!‘Sdeath!What do you mean?Are you mad?

  FULL-MOON

  Away, sirrah, bind him, hold fast.You want a wench, sirrah, do you?

  BELLAMONT

  What wench?Will you take mine arms from me, being no heralds?Let go, you dogs!

  FULL-MOON

  Bind him.Be quiet.Come, come, dogs, fie, and a gentleman!

  BELLAMONT

  Master Mayberry! Philip! Master Mayberry!Ud’s foot!

  FULL-MOON

  I’ll bring you a wench; are you mad for a wench?

  BELLAMONT

  I hold my life my comrades have put this fool’s cap upon thy head to gull me.I smell it now.Why, do you hear, Full-Moon, let me loose, for I’m not mad; I’m not mad,by Jesu!

  FULL-MOON

  Ask the gentlemen that.

  BELLAMONT

  Bith Lord, I’m as well in my wits as any man i’th’ house!And this is a trick put upon thee by these gallants in pure knavery.

  FULL-MOON

  I’ll try that.Answer me to this question.Loose his arms a little.Look you, sir, three geese nine pence, every goose three pence; what’s that a goose, roundly, roundly one with another?

  BELLAMONT

  ‘Sfoot, do you bring your geese for me to cut up?[Strike him soundly and kick him.

  Enter all.

  OMNES

  Hold, hold, bind him, Master Full-Moon.

  FULL-MOON

  Bind him, you!He has paid me all!I’ll have none of his bonds, not I, unless I could recover them better.

  GREENSHIELD

  Have I given it to you, Master Poet?Did the lime-bush take?

  MAYBERRY

  It was his warrant sent thee to Bedlam, old Jack Bellamont; and Master Full-i’th’Moon, our warrant discharges him.Poet, we’ll all ride upon thee to Ware and back again, I fear, to thy cost.

  BELLAMONT

  If you do, I must bear you.Thank you, Master Greenshield.I will not die in your debt.Farewell, you mad rascals.To horse, come!’Tis well done; ’twas well done; you may laugh, you shall laugh, gentlemen.If the gudgeonhad been swallowed by one of you it had been vile, but by Gad, ’tis nothing, for your best poets indeed are mad for the most part.Farewell, Goodman Full-Moon.

  FULL-MOON

  Pray, gentlemen, if you come by, call in. [Exit.

  BELLAMONT

  Yes, yes, when they are mad.Horse yourselves now, if you be men.

  MAYBERRY

  He gallop must that after women rides.

  Get our wives out of town; they take long strides. [Exeunt.

  Act Five, Scene One

  ENTER OLD MAYBERRY and BELLAMONT.

  MAYBERRY

  But why have you brought us to the wrong inn?And withal possess’d Greenshield that my wife is not in town.When my project was, that I would have brought him up into the chamber where young Featherstone and his wife lay; and so all his artillery should have recoil’d into his own bosom.

  BELLAMONT

  O, it will fall out far better; you shall see my revenge will have a more neat and unexpected conveyance.He hath been all up and down the town to inquire for a Londoner’s wife; none such is to be found, for I have mew’d your wife up already.Marry, he hears of a Yorkshire gentlewoman at next inn, and that’s all the commodity Ware affords at this instant.Now, sir, he very politically imagines that your wife is rode to Puckridge, five mile further, for saith he in such a town where hosts will be familiar and tapsters saucy, and chamberlains worse then thieve’s intelligencers; they’ll never put foot out of stirrup.Either at Puckridge or Wadesmill, saith he, you shall find them; and because our horses are weary, he’s gone to take up post horse.My counsel is only this:when he comes in, fain yourself very melancholy; swear you will ride no further.And this is your part of the comedy:the sequel of the jest shall come like money borrowed of a courtier and paid within the day:a thing strange and unexpected.

  Enter GREENSHIELD.

  MAYBERRY

  Enough; I ha’t.

  BELLAMONT

  He comes.

  GREENSHIELD

  Come, gallants, the post horse are ready; ’tis but a quarter of an hour riding.We’ll ferret them and firk them in faith.

  BELLAMONT

  Are they grown politic?When do you see honesty covet corners or a gentleman that’s no thief lie in the inn of a carrier?

  MAYBERRY

  Nothing hath undone my wife but too much riding.

  BELLAMONT

  She was a pretty piece of a poet, indeed, and in her discourse would as many of your goldsmiths wives do, draw her simile from precious stones so wittily, as redder then your ruby, harder then your diamond, and so from stone to stone in less time then a man can draw on a straight boot, as if she had been an excellent lapidary.

  GREENSHIELD

  Come, will you to horse, sir?

  MAYBERRY

  No, let her go to the devil and she will; I’ll not stir a foot further.

  GREENSHIELD

  God’s precious! is’t come to this?Persuade him, as you are a gentleman, there will be ballads made ofhim, and the burthen thereof will be:if you had rode out five mile forward, he had found the fatal house of Brainford Northward.O, hone, hone, hone a nonero!

  BELLAMONT

  You are merry, sir.

  GREENSHIELD

  Like your citizen, I never think of my debts when I am a horseback.

  BELLAMONT

  You imagine you are riding from your creditors.

  GREENSHIELD

  Good, in faith.Will you to horse?

  MAYBERRY

  I’ll ride no further.[Walks aside.

  GREENSHIELD

  Then I’ll discharge the postmaster.Was’t not a pretty wit of mine master poet to have had him rod into Puckridge with a horn before him, was’t not?

  BELLAMONT

  Good sooth, excellent.I was dull in apprehending it; but come, since we must stay, we’ll be merry.Chamberlain, call in the music, bid the tapsters and maids come up and dance; what we’ll make a night of it! Hark you, masters, I have an excellent jest to make old Mayberry merry.‘Sfoot, we’ll have him merry!

  Enter Fiddlers.

  GREENSHIELD

  Let’s make him drunk then; a simple catching wit, I.

  BELLAMONT

  Go thy ways.I know a nobleman would take such a delight in thee.

  GREENSHIELD

  Why, so he would in his fool.

  BELLAMO
NT

  Before God, but he would make a difference; he would keep you in satin.But as I was a-saying, we’ll have him merry.His wife is gone to Puckridge; ’tis a wench makes him melancholy; ’tis a wench must make him merry.We must help him to a wench.When you citizen comes into his lane wet and cold, dropping, either the hostess or one of her maids warms his bed, pulls on his night-cap, cuts his corners, puts out the candle, bids him command aught, if he want aught; and so after master citiner sleeps as quietly, as if he lay in his own low country of Holland, his own linen, I mean, sir, we must have a wench for him.

  GREENSHIELD

  But where’s this wench to be found?Here are all the moveable petticoats of the house.

  BELLAMONT

  At the next inn there lodged to-night —

  GREENSHIELD

  God’s precious!A Yorkshire gentlewoman!I ha’t; I’ll angle for her; presently, we’ll have him merry.

  BELLAMONT

  Procure some chamberlain to pander for you.

  GREENSHIELD

  No, I’ll be pander myself, because we’ll be merry.

  BELLAMONT

  Will you, will you?

  GREENSHIELD

  But how?Be a pander as I am, a gentleman?That were horrible.I’ll thrust myself into the outside of a falconer in town here; and now I think on’t there are a company of country players that are come to town here shall furnish me hair and beard.If I do not bring her — we’ll be wondrous merry!

  BELLAMONT

  About it; look you, sir, though she bear her far aloof, and her body out of distance, so her mind be coming, ’tis no matter.

  GREENSHIELD

  Get old Mayberry merry.That any man should take to heart thus the downfall of a woman!I think when he comes home, poor snail, he’ll not dare to peep forth of doors lest his horns usher him.[Exit.

  BELLAMONT

  Go thy ways; there be more in England wear large ears and horns then stags and asses.Excellent, he rides post with a halter about his neck.

  MAYBERRY

  How now?Wilt take?

  BELLAMONT

  Beyond expectation.I have persuaded him the only way to make you merry is to help you to a wench, and the fool is gone to pander his own wife hither.

  MAYBERRY

  Why, he’ll know her.

  BELLAMONT

  She hath been mask’d ever since she came into the inn, for fear of discovery.

  MAYBERRY

  Then she’ll know him.

  BELLAMONT

  For that his own unfortunate wit help’d my lazy invention, for he hath disguised himself like a fawkner in town here, hoping that procuring shape to do more good upon her then in the outside of a gentleman.

  MAYBERRY

  Young Featherstone will know him.

  BELLAMONT

  He’s gone into the town and will not return this half hour.

  MAYBERRY

  Excellent, if she will come.

  BELLAMONT

  Nay, upon my life, she’ll come!When she enters, remember some of your young blood; talk as some of your gallant commoners will; dice and drink freely; do not call for sack, lest it betray the coldness of your manhood, but fetch a caper now and then to make the gold chink in your pockets.Ay, so.

  MAYBERRY

  Ha, old poet! let’s once stand to it for the credit of Milkstreet.Is my wife acquainted with this?

  BELLAMONT

  She’s perfect, and will come out upon her cue, I warrant you.

  MAYBERRY

  Good wenches, in faith.Fill’s some more sack here.

  BELLAMONT

  God’s precious!Do not call for sack by any means.

  MAYBERRY

  Why then, give us a whole lordship for life in Rhenish with the reversion in sugar.

  BELLAMONT

  Excellent.

  MAYBERRY

  It were not amiss if we were dancing.

  BELLAMONT

  Out upon’t.I shall never do it.

  Enter GREENSHIELD disguised, with MISTRESS GREENSHIELD.

  GREENSHIELD

  Out of mine nostrils tapster, thou smelst, like Guildhall two days after Simon and Jude, of drink most horribly.Off with thy mask, sweet sinner of the North; these masks are foils to good faces, and to bad ones they are like new satin outsides to lousy linings.

  KATE

  O, my no means, sir.Your merchant will not open a whole piece to his best customer; he that buys a woman must take her as she falls.I’ll unmask my hand.Here’s the sample.

  GREENSHIELD

  Go to then.Old poet, I have ta’en her up already as a pinnace bound for the straights.She knows her burden yonder.

  BELLAMONT

  Lady, you are welcome.Yon is the old gentleman and observe him; he’s not one of your far city chuffs, whose great belly argues that the felicity of his life consists in capon, sack, and sincere honesty, but a lean spare bountiful gallant, one that hath an old wife and a young performance; whose reward is no the rate of a captain newly come out of the low countries; or a Yorkshire attorney in good contentious practice, some angel.Know, the proportion of your wealthy citizen to his wench is her chamber, her diet, her physic, her every thing.You’ll say your young gentleman is your only service that lies before you like a calve’s head, with his brains some half yard from him, but I assure you, they must not only have variety of foolery, but also of wenches, whereas your conscionable grey-bread of Farrington within will keep himself, to the ruins of one cast waiting woman, an age; and perhaps, when he’s past all other good works, to wipe out false weights and twenty i’th’ hundred, marry her.

  GREENSHIELD

  O, well, bowled Tom (…), we have precedents for’t.

  KATE

  But I have a husband, sir.

  BELLAMONT

  You have?If the knave thy husband shall be rich, make him poor that be may borrow money of this merchant, and be laid up in the Counter, or Ludgate, so it shall be conscience in your old gentleman, when he hath seized all thy goods, to take the horn and maintain thee.

  GREENSHIELD

  O, well, bowled Tom (…), we have precedents for’t.

  KATE

  Well, if you be not a nobleman, you are some great valiant gentleman by your bearing, and the fashion of your beard; and do but thus to make the citizen merry, because you owe him some money.

  BELLAMONT

  O, you are a wag.

  MAYBERRY

  You are very welcome.

  GREENSHIELD

  He is ta’en; excellent, excellent!There’s one will make him merry; is it any imputation to help one’s friend to a wench?

  BELLAMONT

  No more then at my lord’s entreaty to help my lady to a pretty waiting woman.If he had given you a gelding or the reversion of some monopoly, or a new suit of satin would have smelt of the pander; but what’s done freely comes like a present to an old lady, without any reward; and what is done without any reward comes like wounds to a soldier, very honourably notwithstanding.

  MAYBERRY

  This is my breeding gentlewoman and whither travel you?[Kisses her.

  KATE

  To London, sir, as the old tale goes, to seek my fortune.

  MAYBERRY

  Shall I be your fortune, lady?

  KATE

  O, pardon me, sir.I’ll have some young landed heir to be my fortune, for thy favour, she fools more then citizens.

  MAYBERRY

  Are you married?

  KATE

  Yes, but my husband is in garrison i’th’low countries, is the colonel’s bawd, and the captain’s jester.He sent me word over that he will thrive, for though his apparel lie i’th’Lombard, he keeps his conscience i’th’muster book.

  MAYBERRY

  He may do his country good service, lady.

  KATE

  Ay, as many of your captains do that fight as the geese saved the capitol, only with prattling.Well, well, if I were in some nobleman’s hand now, may be he would not take a thous
and pounds for me.

  MAYBERRY

  No?

  KATE

  No, sir; and yet may be at year’s end would give me a brace of hundreth pounds to marry me to his bailey, or the solicitor of his law suits.Who’s this, I beseech you?

  Enter MISTRESS MAYBERRY, her hair loose, with the Hostess.

  HOSTESS

  I pray you, forsooth, be patient.

  BELLAMONT

  Passion of my heart, Mistress Mayberry![Exeunt Fiddlers.

  GREENSHIELD

  Now will she put some notable trick upon her cuckoldry husband.

  MAYBERRY

  Why how now, wife, what means this? ha?

  WIFE

  Well, I cam very well.O, my unfortunate parents, would you had buried me quick when you link’d me to this misery!

  MAYBERRY

  O wife, be patient.I have more cause to rail, wife.

  WIFE

  You have?Prove it, prove it!Where’s the courtier you should have ta’en in my bosom?I’ll spit in gall in’s face that can tax me of any dishonour.Have I lost the pleasure of mine eyes, the sweets of my youth, the wishes of my blood, and the portion of my friends to be thus dishonoured, to be reputed vil’d in London whilst my husband prepares common diseases for me at Ware?Oh God, oh God!

  BELLAMONT

  Prettily well dissembled.

  HOSTESS

  [To MAYBERRY.] As I am true hostess, you are to blame, sir!What are you, mistress?I’ll know what you are afore you depart, mistress.Dost thou leave thy chamber in an honest inn to come and inveigle my customers?And you had sent for me up and kiss’d me and used me like an hostess, ’twould never have grieved me, but to do it to a stranger!

  KATE

  I’ll leave you, sir.

  MAYBERRY

  Stay, why how now, sweet gentlewoman?Cannot I come forth to breathe myself, but I must be haunted?[Aside.] Rail upon old Bellamont, that he may discover them.[Aloud.] You remember Featherstone, Greenshield?

  WIFE

  I remember them, I.There are two as coging, dishonourable, damn’d, forsworn, beggarly gentlemen as are all in London, and there’s a reverent old gentleman too; you pander in my conscience!

  BELLAMONT

  Lady, I will not as the old gods were wont, swear by the infernal Styx, but by all the mingled wine in the cellar beneath, and the smoke of tobacco that hath fumed over the vessels, I did not procure your husband this banqueting dish of sucket.Look you, behold the parenthesis.[Discovers GREENSHIELD.

  HOSTESS

  Nay, I’ll see your face too.[Unmasks KATE.

  KATE