Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker

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Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 165

by Thomas Dekker


  Excepting you my father. Here’s her worst:

  Sh’ has a bold spirit that mingles with mankind,

  But nothing else comes near it, and oftentimes

  Through her apparel somewhat shames her birth,

  But she is loose in nothing but in mirth.

  Would all Molls were no worse.

  SIR ALEXANDER

  [Aside] This way I toil in vain and give but aim

  To infamy and ruin. He will fall;

  My blessing cannot stay him: all my joys

  Stand at the brink of a devouring flood

  And will be willfully swallowed, willfully,

  But why so vain? Let all these tears be lost:

  I’ll pursue her to shame, and so all’s cross’d.

  Exit Sir Alexander.

  SEBASTIAN

  He is gone with some strange purpose, whose effect

  Will hurt me little if he shoot so wide,

  To think I love so blindly. I but feed

  His heart to this match to draw on th’ other,

  Wherein my joy sits with a full wish crown’d,

  Only his mood excepted, which must change

  By opposite policies, courses indirect:

  Plain dealing in this world takes no effect.

  This mad girl I’ll acquaint with my intent,

  Get her assistance, make my fortunes known:

  ‘Twixt lovers’ hearts, she’s a fit instrument

  And has the art to help them to their own

  By her advice, for in that craft she’s wise:

  My love and I may meet, spite of all spies.

  Exit Sebastian.

  Act III Scene 1.

  GRAY’S INN FIELDS

  Enter Laxton in Gray’s Inn Fields with the Coachman.

  LAXTON

  Coachman.

  COACHMAN

  Here sir.

  LAXTON

  [Giving him money] There’s a tester more. Prithee drive thy coach to the hither end of Marybone Park, a fit place for Moll to get in.

  COACHMAN

  Marybone Park, sir?

  LAXTON

  Ay, it’s in our way, thou know’st.

  COACHMAN

  It shall be done, sir.

  LAXTON

  Coachman.

  COACHMAN

  Anon, sir.

  LAXTON

  Are we fitted with good [frampold] jades?

  COACHMAN

  The best in Smithfield, I warrant you, sir.

  LAXTON

  May we safely take the upper hand of any [couch’d] velvet cap or tufftaffety jacket? For they keep a vild swaggering in coaches nowadays; the highways are stopp’d with them.

  COACHMAN

  My life for yours and baffle ’em too, sir. Why, they are the same jades, believe it, sir, that have drawn all your famous whores to Ware.

  LAXTON

  Nay then, they know their business; they need no more instructions.

  COACHMAN

  They’re so us’d to such journeys, sir, I never use whip to ’em, for if they catch but the scent of a wench once, they run like devils.

  Exit Coachman with his whip.

  LAXTON

  Fine Cerberus: that rogue will have the start of a thousand ones, for whilst others trot afoot, he’ll ride prancing to hell upon a coach-horse. Stay, ’tis now about the hour of her appointment, but yet I see her not.

  The clock strikes three.

  Hark, what’s this? One, two, three, three by the clock at Savoy: this is the hour, and Gray’s Inn Fields the place. She swore she’d meet me. Ha, yonder’s two Inns a’ Court men with one wench, but that’s not she; they walk toward Islington out of my way. I see none yet dress’d like her: I must look for a shag ruff, a frieze jerkin, a short sword, and safeguard, or I get none. Why, Moll, prithee make haste or the coachman will curse us anon.

  Enter Moll like a man.

  MOLL

  [Aside] Oh, here’s my gentleman: if they would keep their days as well with their mercers as their hours with their harlots, no bankrout would give seven score pound for a sergeant’s place, for would you know a catchpole rightly deriv’d, the corruption of a citizen is the generation of a sergeant! How his eye hawks for venery! — Come, are you ready, sir?

  LAXTON

  Ready for what, sir?

  MOLL

  Do you ask that now, sir? Why was this meeting ‘pointed?

  LAXTON

  I thought you mistook me, sir.

  You seem to be some young barrister.

  I have no suit in law; all my land’s sold:

  I praise heaven for’t; ‘t has rid me of much trouble.

  MOLL

  Then I must wake you, sir. Where stands the coach?

  LAXTON

  Who’s this? Moll? Honest Moll?

  MOLL

  So young and purblind? You’re an old wanton in your eyes, I see that.

  LAXTON

  Th’ art admirably suited for the Three Pigeons at Brainford; I’ll swear I knew thee not.

  MOLL

  I’ll swear you did not, but you shall know me now.

  LAXTON

  No, not here, we shall be spied, i’faith; the coach is better, come.

  MOLL

  Stay.

  LAXTON

  What, wilt thou untruss a point, Moll?

  She puts off her cloak and draws.

  MOLL

  Yes, here’s the point that I untruss: ‘t has but one tag; ‘twill serve tho’ to tie up a rogue’s tongue.

  LAXTON

  How!

  MOLL

  There’s the gold with which you hir’d your hackney.

  [Attacking him] Here’s her pace;

  She racks hard, and perhaps your bones will feel it!

  Ten angels of mine own I’ve put to thine;

  Win ’em and wear ’em!

  LAXTON

  Hold, Moll, Mistress Mary!

  MOLL

  Draw or I’ll serve an execution on thee

  Shall lay thee up till doomsday!

  LAXTON

  Draw upon a woman? Why, what dost mean, Moll?

  MOLL

  To teach thy base thoughts manners: th’ art one of those

  That thinks each woman thy fond, flexible whore

  If she but cast a liberal eye upon thee;

  Turn back her head, she’s thine, or amongst company,

  By chance drink first to thee. Then she’s quite gone;

  There’s no means to help her, nay, for a need,

  Wilt swear unto thy credulous fellow lechers

  That th’ art more in favour with a lady

  At first sight than her monkey all her lifetime.

  How many of our sex by such as thou

  Have their good thoughts paid with a blasted name

  That never deserved loosely, or did trip

  In path of whoredom beyond cup and lip?

  But for the stain of conscience and of soul,

  Better had women fall into the hands

  Of an act silent than a bragging nothing.

  There’s no mercy in’t. What durst move you, sir,

  To think me whorish, a name which I’d tear out

  From the high German’s throat if it lay ledger there

  To dispatch privy slanders against me?

  In thee I defy all men, their worst hates

  And their best flatteries, all their golden witchcrafts

  With which they entangle the poor spirits of fools,

  Distressed needlewomen, and trade-fall’n wives.

  Fish that must needs bite or themselves be bitten,

  Such hungry things as these may soon be took

  With a worm fast’ned on a golden hook:

  Those are the lecher’s food, his prey; he watches

  For quarrelling wedlocks, and poor shifting sisters:

  ’Tis the best fish he takes. But why, good fisherman,

  Am I thought meat for you, that never yet


  Had angling rod cast towards me? ‘Cause, you’ll say,

  I’m given to sport, I’m often merry, jest.

  Had mirth no kindred in the world but lust?

  Oh, shame take all her friends then! But howe’er

  Thou and the baser world censure my life,

  I’ll send ’em word by thee, and write so much

  Upon thy breast, ‘cause thou shalt bear ‘t in mind:

  Tell them ‘twere base to yield where I have conquer’d.

  I scorn to prostitute myself to a man,

  I that can prostitute a man to me:

  And so I greet thee.

  LAXTON

  Hear me!

  MOLL

  Would the spirits

  Of all my [slanderers] were clasp’d in thine

  That I might vex an army at one time!

  They fight.

  LAXTON

  I do repent me! Hold!

  MOLL

  You’ll die the better Christian then.

  LAXTON

  I do confess I have wrong’d thee, Moll.

  MOLL

  Confession is but poor amends for wrong,

  Unless a rope would follow.

  LAXTON

  I ask thee pardon.

  MOLL

  I’m your hir’d whore, sir.

  LAXTON

  I yield both purse and body!

  MOLL

  Both are mine and now at my disposing.

  LAXTON

  Spare my life!

  MOLL

  I scorn to strike thee basely.

  LAXTON

  Spoke like a noble girl, i’faith! [Aside] Heart, I think I fight with a familiar or the ghost of a fencer! Sh’ has wounded me gallantly. Call you this a lecherous [voyage]? Here’s blood would have serv’d me this seven year in broken heads and cut fingers, and it now runs all out together. Pox a’ the Three Pigeons! I would the coach were here now to carry me to the chirurgeon’s.

  Exit Laxton.

  MOLL

  If I could meet my enemies one by one thus,

  I might make pretty shift with ’em in time

  And make ’em know she that has wit and spirit

  May scorn to live beholding to her body for meat

  Or for apparel like your common dame

  That makes shame get her clothes to cover shame.

  Base is that mind that kneels unto her body,

  As if a husband stood in awe on’s wife:

  My spirit shall be mistress of this house

  As long as I have time in’t.

  Enter Trapdoor.

  [Aside] Oh,

  Here comes my man that would be: ’tis his hour.

  Faith, a good well-set fellow, if his spirit

  Be answerable to his umbles. He walks stiff,

  But whether he will stand to’t stiffly, there’s the point;

  H’as a good calf for’t, and ye shall have many a woman

  Choose him she means to [make] her head by his calf.

  I do not know their tricks in’t. Faith, he seems

  A man without; I’ll try what he is within.

  TRAPDOOR

  [Aside] She told me Gray’s Inn Fields ‘twixt three and four.

  I’ll fit her mistress-ship with a piece of service!

  I’m hir’d to rid the town of one mad girl.

  She justles him.

  What a pox ails you, sir?

  MOLL

  [Aside] He begins like a gentleman.

  TRAPDOOR

  Heart, is the field so narrow, or your eyesight?

  She comes towards him.

  Life, he comes back again!

  MOLL

  Was this spoke to me, sir?

  TRAPDOOR

  I cannot tell, sir.

  MOLL

  Go, y’are a coxcomb!

  TRAPDOOR

  Coxcomb?

  MOLL

  Y’are a slave!

  TRAPDOOR

  I hope there’s law for you, sir.

  MOLL

  [Yea], do you see, sir?

  Turn his hat.

  TRAPDOOR

  Heart, this is no good dealing!

  Pray let me know what house you’re of.

  MOLL

  One of the Temple, sir.

  Fillips him.

  TRAPDOOR

  Mass, so methinks!

  MOLL

  And yet sometime I lie

  About Chick Lane.

  TRAPDOOR

  I like you the worse

  Because you shift your lodging so often.

  I’ll not meddle with you for that trick, sir.

  MOLL

  A good shift, but it shall not serve your turn.

  TRAPDOOR

  You’ll give me leave to pass about my business, sir?

  MOLL

  Your business?

  I’ll make you wait on me before I ha’ done,

  And glad to serve me too.

  TRAPDOOR

  How, sir! Serve you?

  Not if there were no more men in England!

  MOLL

  But if there were no more women in England,

  I hope you’d wait upon your mistress then.

  TRAPDOOR

  Mistress!

  MOLL

  Oh, you’re a tried spirit at a push, sir!

  TRAPDOOR

  What would your worship have me do?

  MOLL

  You a fighter?

  TRAPDOOR

  No, I praise heaven; I had better grace and more manners.

  MOLL

  As how I pray, sir?

  TRAPDOOR

  Life, ‘t had been a beastly part of me to have drawn my weapons upon my mistress! All the world would ‘a’ cried shame of me for that.

  MOLL

  Why, but you knew me not.

  TRAPDOOR

  Do not say so, mistress; I knew you by your wide straddle, as well as if I had been in your belly.

  MOLL

  Well, we shall try you further; i’ th’ mean time we give you entertainment.

  TRAPDOOR

  Thank your good mistress-ship.

  MOLL

  How many suits have you?

  TRAPDOOR

  No more suits than backs, mistress.

  MOLL

  Well, if you deserve, I cast off this next week,

  And you may creep into’t.

  TRAPDOOR

  Thank your good worship.

  MOLL

  Come, follow me to St. Thomas Apostle’s;

  I’ll put a livery cloak upon your back

  The first thing I do.

  TRAPDOOR

  I follow, my dear mistress.

  Exeunt omnes.

  Act III Scene 2.

  GALLIPOT’S HOUSE

  Enter Mistress Gallipot as from supper, her husband after her.

  GALLIPOT

  What, Pru! Nay, sweet Prudence!

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  What a pruing keep you; I think the baby would have a teat, it kyes so. Pray be not so fond of me: leave your city humours; I’m vex’d at you to see how like a calf you come bleating after me.

  GALLIPOT

  Nay, honey Pru. How does your rising up before all the table show? And flinging from my friends so uncivilly? Fie, Pru, fie, come!

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Then up and ride, i’faith.

  GALLIPOT

  Up and ride? Nay, my pretty Pru, that’s far from my thought, duck. Why, mouse, thy mind is nibbling at something. What is’t? What lies upon thy stomach?

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Such an ass as you. Hoyda, y’are best turn midwife or physician! Y’are a pothecary already, but I’m none of your drugs.

  GALLIPOT

  Thou art a sweet drug, sweet’st Pru, and the more thou art pounded, the more precious.

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Must you be prying into a woman’s secrets, say ye?

  GALLIPOT

  Woman’s
secrets?

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  What, I cannot have a qualm come upon me but your teeth waters till your nose hang over it.

  GALLIPOT

  It is my love, dear wife.

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Your love? Your love is all words; give me deeds: I cannot abide a man that’s too fond over me, so cookish; thou dost not know how to handle a woman in her kind.

  GALLIPOT

  No, Pru? Why, I hope I have handled —

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Handle a fool’s head of your own, fie, fie!

  GALLIPOT

  Ha, ha, ’tis such a wasp! It does me good now to have her [sting] me, little rogue.

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Now fie, how you vex me! I cannot abide these [apron] husbands, such cotqueans: you overdo your things; they become you scurvily.

  GALLIPOT

  [Aside] Upon my life, she breeds! Heaven knows how I have strain’d myself to please her, night and day. I wonder why we citizens should get children so fretful and untoward in the breeding, their fathers being for the most part as gentle as milch-kine. — Shall I leave thee, my Pru?

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  Fie, fie, fie.

  GALLIPOT

  Thou shalt not be vex’d no more, pretty kind rogue: take no cold, sweet Pru.

  Exit Gallipot.

  MISTRESS GALLIPOT

  As your wit has done. [Taking out a letter] Now, Master Laxton, show your head. What news from you? Would any husband suspect that a woman crying, “Buy any scurvygrass” should bring love letters amongst her herbs to his wife? Pretty trick, fine conveyance! Had jealousy a thousand eyes, a silly woman with scurvygrass blinds them all.

  Laxton, with bays

  Crown I thy wit for this: it deserves praise.

  This makes me affect thee more; this proves thee wise.

  ‘Lack what poor shift is love forc’d to devise?

  To th’ point:

  She reads the letter.

  “Oh, sweet creature,” — a sweet beginning— “pardon my long absence, for thou shalt shortly be possessed with my presence. Though Demophon was false to Phyllis, I will be to thee as Pan-da-rus was to Cres-sida; tho’ Aeneas made an ass of Dido, I will die to thee ere I do so. Oh, sweet’st creature, make much of me, for no man beneath the silver moon shall make more of a woman than I do of thee. Furnish me therefore with thirty pounds; you must do it of necessity for me: I languish till I see some comfort come from thee, protesting not to die in thy debt, but rather to live so, as hitherto I have and will.

  Thy true Laxton ever.”

  Alas, poor gentleman! Troth, I pity him.

  How shall I raise this money? Thirty pound?

  ’Tis thirty sure, a 3 before an O;

  I know his threes too well. My childbed linen?

  Shall I pawn that for him? Then if my mark

  Be known, I am undone; it may be thought

  My husband’s bankrout. Which way shall I turn?

 

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