Chapter XXIV: Act IV: , Scene I

_Enter_ VANDAL _and_ FRISCO.

VAN. Where be you, Master Frisco.

FRIS. Here, sir, here, sir. Now if I could cozen him. [_Aside._
Take heed, sir, here's a post.

VAN. Ic be so groterly hot, dat ic swet. O, when sal we come
dere.

FRIS. Be you so hot, sir? let me carry your cloak; I assure you
it will ease you much.

VAN. Dere, here, dere, 'tis so dark I can neit see.

FRIS. Ay, so, so. Now you may travel in your hose and doublet.
Now look I as like the Dutchman as if I were spit out of his
mouth.[523] I'll straight home, and speak groot and brood, and
toot and gibberish; and in the dark I'll have a fling at the
wenches. Well, I say no more. Farewell, Master Mendal, I must
go seek my fortune. [_Exit_ FRISCO.

VAN. Mester Frisco, Mester Frisco! what sal you no speak I make
you de fool? Why, Mester Frisco! O de skellum, he be ga met de
cloak! me sal seg his mester. Ha! Mester Frisco, waer seed-e
Mester Frisco? [_Exit_ VANDAL.

_Enter_ HARVEY, HEIGHAM, _and_ WALGRAVE.

HAR. Goes the case so well, Signer Bottle-nose?
It may be we shall overreach your drift.
This is the time the wenches sent us word
Our bombast Dutchman and his mates will come.
Well, neat Italian, you must don my shape:
Play your part well, or I may 'haps pay you.
What, speechless, Ned? faith, whereon musest thou?
'Tis on your French corrival, for my life.
He comes _et vostre_, and so forth,
Till he hath foisted in a brat or two.
How then, how then?

WAL. Nay, I'll geld him first,
Ere that infestious losel revel there.
Well, Mat, I think thou know'st what Ned can do:
Shouldst thou change Ned for Noddy, me for him,
Thou didst not know thy loss, i' faith thou didst not.

HEIGH. Come, leave this idle chat, and let provide
Which of us shall be scarecrow to these fools,
And set them out the way?

WAL. Why, that will I.

HAR. Then put a sword into a madman's hand.
Thou art so hasty that, but cross thy humour,
And thou'lt be ready cross them o'er the pates:
Therefore, for this time, I'll supply the room.

HEIGH. And so we shall be sure of chat enough.
You'll hold them with your flouts and gulls so long,
That all the night will scarcely be enough
To put in practice what we have devised:
Come, come, I'll be the man shall do the deed.

HAR. Well, I am content to save your longing.
But soft, where are we? Ha! here's the house.
Come, let us take our stands: Frank, stand you there,
And Ned and I will cross [to] t'other side.

HEIGH. Do so; but hush! I hear one passing hither.

_Enter_ ALVARO.

ALV. O de favourable aspect of de heaven! 'tis so obscure, so
dark, so black, dat no mortal creature can know me: I pray a
Dio I sal have de right wench. Ah si, I be recht: here be de
huis of Signer Pisaro; I sal have de Madonna Marina, and darvor
I sal knock to de door. [_He knocks._

HEIGH. What a pox! are you mad or drunk?
What do you mean to break my glasses?[524]

ALV. Wat be dar glasses? What drunk? what mad?

HEIGH. What glasses, sir? why, my glasses: and if you be so
crank, I'll call the constable. You will not enter into a man's
house, I hope, in spite of him?

HAR. Nor durst you be so bold as to stand there,
If once the master of the house did know it.

ALV. Is dis your house? be you de signor of dis casa?

HEIGH. Signor me no signors, nor casa me no casas: but get you
hence, or you are like to taste of the bastinado.

HAR. Do, do, good Ferdinand; pummell the loggerhead.

ALV. Is this neit the house of Mester Pisaro?

HEIGH. Yes, marry, when? can you tell? how do you? I thank you
heartily, my finger in your mouth.

ALV. What be dat?

HEIGH. Marry, that you are an ass and a loggerhead, to seek
Master Pisaro's house here.

ALV. I pray de gratia, what be dis plashe? What do ye call dis
street?

HEIGH. What, sir? why, Leadenhall. Could you not see the four
spouts as you came along?

ALV. Certamente, Leadenhall, I hit my head by de way; der may
be do voer spouts. I pray de gratia, wish be de way to Croche
Friars?

HEIGH. How, to Crutched Friars? Marry, you must go along till
you come to the pump, and then turn on your right hand.

ALV. Signor, a Dio. [_Exit_ ALVARO.

HEIGH. Farewell, and be hang'd, signor!
Now, for your fellow, if the ass would come.

_Enter_ DELION.

DEL. By my trot, me do so mush tinck of dit gentlewoman, de
fine wensh, dat me tinck esh hour ten day, and esh day ten
years, till I come to her. Here be de huis of sin vader, sal
aller and knock. [_He knocks._

HEIGH. What a bots ails you, are you mad?
Will you run over me, and break my glasses?

DEL. Glasses! wat glasses? Pray, is Monsieur Pisaro to de
maison?

HAR. Hark, Ned, there's thy substance. [_Aside._

WAL. Nay, by the mass, the substance is here,
The shadow's but an ass. [_Aside._

HEIGH. What Master Pisaro?
Loggerhead! here is none of your Pisaros?

DEL. Yes, but dit is de huis of Mester Pisaro.

WAL. Will not this Monsieur Motley[525] take his answer? I'll
go and knock the ass about the pate.

HAR. Nay, by your leave, sir, but I'll hold your worship.
This stir we should have had, had you stood there.

WAL. Why, would it not vex one to hear the ass
Stand prating here of dit and dan, and den and dog?

HAR. One of thy mettle, Ned, would surely do it.
But peace, and hark to the rest.

DEL. Do no de fine gentlewoman Maitresse Mathe dwell in this
plashe?

HEIGH. No, sir; here dwells none of your fine gentlewomen:
'twere a good deed, sirrah, to see who you are. You come hither
to steal my glasses, and then counterfeit you are going to your
quean's.

DEL. I be deceve dis dark night. Here be no wensh, I be no in
de right plashe. I pray, monsieur, wat be name dis street, and
wish be de way to Croche Friars?

HEIGH. Marry, this is Fenchurch Street, and the best way to
Crutched Friars is to follow your nose.

DEL. Vanshe Street! How shance me come to Vanshe Street? Vel,
monsieur, we must aller to Croche Friars. [_Exit_ DELION.

WAL. Farewell, fortypence,[526] go seek you, signor. I hope
you'll find yourselves two dolts anon. Hush, Ferdinand, I hear
the last come stamping hither.

_Enter_ FRISCO.

FRIS. Ha! sirrah, I have left my fat Dutchman, and run myself
almost out of breath too. Now to my young mistresses go I;
somebody cast an old shoe after me.[527] But soft: how shall I
do to counterfeit the Dutchman, because I speak English so like
a natural? Tush, take you no thought for that; let me alone for
_squintum squantum_. Soft, here's my master's house.

HEIGH. Who's there?

FRIS. Who's there, why, sir, here is--nay, that's too good
English. Why, here be the growte Dutchman.

HEIGH. Then, there's not only a growte head, but an ass also.

FRIS. What be you? you be an English ox to call a gentilemoan
ass.

HAR. Hark, Ned; yonder's good greeting.

FRIS. But you, and you be Master Mouse that dwell here, tell
your Matressa Laurentia dat her sweetheart, Master Vandal,
would speak with her.

HEIGH. Master Mendall, get you gone, lest you get a broken
pate, and so mar all. Here's no entrance for Mistress
Laurentia's sweetheart.

FRIS. God's sacren, wat is de luck now? Shall not I come to my
friend Master Pisar hoose?

HEIGH. Yes, and to Master Pisaro's shoes too,[528] if he or
they were here.

FRIS. Why, my growte friend, Master Pisaro, doth dwell here.

HEIGH. Sirrah, you lie; here dwells nobody but I, that have
dwelt here this one and forty years, and sold glasses.

WAL. Lie farther: one and fifty at the least.

[_Aside._

FRIS. Hoo, hoo, hoo? Do you give the gentleman the lie?

HAR. Ay, sir, and will give you a lick of my cudgel, if ye stay
long and trouble the whole street with your bawling. Hence,
dolt, and go seek Master Pisaro's house.

FRIS. Go seek Master Pisaro's house! Where shall I go seek it?

HEIGH. Why, you shall go seek it where it is.

FRIS. That is here, in Crutched Friars?

HEIGH. How, loggerhead, is Crutched Friars here? I thought you
were some such drunken ass, that come to seek Crutched Friars
in Tower Street. But get you along on your left hand, and be
hanged! You have kept me out of my bed with your bangling a
good while longer than I would have been.

FRIS. Ah, ah! How is this? Is not this Crutched Friars? Tell
me. I'll hold a crown they gave me so much wine at the tavern,
that I am drunk, and know not on't. [_Aside._

HAR. My Dutchman's out his compass and his card;
He's reck'ning what wind hath drove him hither.
I'll swear he thinks never to see Pisaro's.

FRIS. Nay, 'tis so; I am sure drunk. Soft, let me see, what was
I about? O, now I have it: I must go to my master's house and
counterfeit the Dutchman, and get my young mistress. Well, and
I must turn on my left hand, for I have forgot the way quite
and clean, [_Aside._] Fare de well, good friend; I am a simple
Dutchman, I. [_Exit_ FRISCO.

HEIGH. Fair weather after you: and now, my lads,
Have I not played my part as I should do?

HAR. 'Twas well, 'twas well. But now, let's cast about,
To set these woodcocks farther from the house,
And afterwards return unto our girls.

WAL. Content, content. Come, come, make haste. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ ALVARO.

ALV. I go and turn, and dan I come to dis plashe, I can no tell
waer, and sal do I can no tell wat. Turn by the pump? I pump it
fair.

_Enter_ DELION.

DEL. Me aller, end aller, and can no come to Croche Friars.

_Enter_ FRISCO.

FRIS. O miserable black pudding! If I can tell which is the
way to my master's house, I am a red herring, and no honest
gentleman.

ALV. Who parlato daer?

DEL. Who be der? Who aller der?

FRIS. How's this? For my life, here are the strangers! O, that
I had the Dutchman's hose, that I might creep into the pockets!
they'll three fall upon me, and beat me.

ALV. Who go der ander?

DEL. Ami.

FRIS. O, brave! Tis nobody but Master Alvaro and the Frenchman
going to our house, on my life. Well, I'll have some sport with
them, if the watch hinder me not. Who goes there?

DEL. Who parle der? In wat plashe, in wat street be you?

FRIS. Why, sir, I can tell where I am. I am in Tower Street:
where a devil be you?

DEL. I be here in Leadenhall.

FRIS. In Leadenhall? I trow I shall meet with you anon. In
Leadenhall? What a simple ass is this Frenchman! Some more of
this. [_Aside._

Where are you, sir?

ALV. Moi? I be here in Vanshe Street.

FRIS. This is excellent, i' faith; as fit as a fiddle! I in
Tower Street, you in Leadenhall, and the third in Fenchurch
Street; and yet all three hear one another, and all three speak
together. Either we must be all three in Leadenhall, or all
three in Tower Street, or all three in Fenchurch Street, or
all three fools.

ALV. Monsieur gentlehomme, can you well teash de way to Cruche
Friars?

FRIS. How, to Crutched Friars? Ay, ay, ay, sir, passing well,
if you will follow me.

DEL. Ay, dat me sal, monsieur gentlehomme, and give you tanks.

FRIS. And, Monsieur Alvaro, I shall lead you such a jaunt that
you shall scarce give me thanks for. [_Aside._] Come, sirs,
follow me. Now for a dirty puddle, the pissing conduit, or a
great post, that might turn these two from asses to oxen by
knocking their horns to their foreheads.

ALV. Where be de now, signor?

FRIS. Even where you will, signor, for I know not. Soft, I
smell: O pure nose!

DEL. What do you smell?

FRIS. I have the scent of London stone as full in my nose, as
Abchurch Lane of mother Wall's pasties. Sirs, feel about: I
smell London stone.

ALV. What be dis?

FRIS. Soft, let me see; feel, I should say, for I cannot see. O
lads, pray for my life, for we are almost at Crutched Friars.

DEL. Dat's good: but what be dis post?

FRIS. This post? why, 'tis the Maypole on Ivy Bridge going to
Westminster.

DEL. Ho[w,] Westminster! how come we to Westminster?

FRIS. Why, on your legs, fools: how should you go? Soft, here's
another; O, now I know indeed where I am. We are now at the
farthest end of Shoreditch; for this is the Maypole.

DEL. Shoreditch? O Dio! dere be some naughty ting, some spirit
do lead us.

FRIS. You say true, sir, for I am afeard your French spirit is
up so far already, that you brought me this way, because you
would find a charm for it at the Blue Boar in the spital. But
soft, who comes here?

_Enter a_ BELLMAN.

BEL. Maids in your smocks,
Look well to your locks;
Your fire and light;
And God give you good night!

DEL. Monsieur gentlehomme, I pray parlez one, two, three, four
words vor us to dis oul man.

FRIS. Yes, marry, shall I, sir. I pray, honest fellow, in what
street be we?

BEL. Ho, Frisco! whither frisk you at this time of night?

DEL. What, Monsieur Frisco?

ALV. Signor Frisco?

FRIS. The same, the same. Hark ye, honesty; methinks you might
do well to have an M under your girdle,[529] considering how
Signor Pisaro and this other monsieur do hold of me.

BEL. O sir, I cry your mercy: pardon this fault, and I'll do as
much for you the next time.

FRIS. Well, passing over superfluical talk, I pray, what street
is this? for it is so dark, I know not where I am.

BEL. Why, art thou drunk? Dost thou not know Fenchurch Street?

FRIS. Ay, sir, a good fellow may sometimes be overseen among
friends. I was drinking with my master and these gentlemen, and
therefore no marvel, though I be none of the wisest at this
present. But I pray thee, good-man Butterick, bring me to my
master's house.

BEL. Why, I will, I will: push! that you are so strange
nowadays; but it is an old-said saw, honours change manners.

FRIS. Good-man Butterick, will you walk afore?
Come, honest friends, will you go to our house?

DEL. Oui, Monsieur Frisco.

ALV. Si, Signor Frisco.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ VANDAL.

VAN. O de skellum Frisco, ic weit neit waer ic be, ic go and
hit my nose op dit post, and ic go and hit my nose op dandern
post. O de villain! Well, waer ben ic now? Haw laet sein is
dut neit Croche Friar, ya seker so ist and dit Mester Pisaro's
huis. O de good shaunce! well, ic sal now have de wenche.
Laurentia, Mestris Laurentia!

_Enter_ LAURENTIA, MARINA, MATHEA, _above_.

MAR. Who's there? Master Harvey?

MATH. Master Walgrave?

LAUR. Master Heigham?

VAN. Ya, my love, here be Mester Heigham, your groot frind.

MAR. How, Master Heigham, my groot frinde?
Out, alas! here's one of the strangers.

LAUR. Peace, you mammet! let's see which it is. We may chance
teach him a strange trick for his learning. Master Heigham,
what wind drives you to our house so late?

VAN. O my lief meskin, de love tol you be so groot, dat it
bring me out my bed voor you.

MATH. Ha, ha! we know the ass by his ears: it is the Dutchman.
What shall we do with him?

LAUR. Peace! let him not know that you are here. Master
Heigham, if you will stay awhile, that I may see if my father
be asleep, and I'll make means we may come together.

VAN. Dat sal ic, my loove. Is dit no well counterfet? I speak
so like Mester Heigham, as 'tis possible.

LAUR. Well, what shall we do with this lubber--Lover, I should
say?

MATH. What shall we do with him?
Why, crown him with a----

MAR. Fie, slut! No, we'll use him cleanlier. You know we have
never a sign at the door: would not the jest prove current to
make the Dutchman supply that want.

LAUR. Nay, the fool will cry out, and so wake my father.

MATH. Why, then we'll cut the rope and cast him down.

LAUR. And so jest out a hanging. Let's rather draw him up in
the basket, and so starve him to death this frosty night.

MAR. In sadness, well-advised. Sister, do you hold him in talk,
and we'll provide it the whilst.

LAUR. Go to, then. Master Heigham, O sweet
Master Heigham!
Doth my father think that his unkindness
Can part you and poor Laurentia? No, no,
I have found a drift to bring you to my chamber,
If you have but the heart to venture it.

VAN. Ventre? sal ic go to de sea, and be de sea, and o'er de
sea, and in de sea, voor my sweet love.

LAUR. Then you dare go into a basket? for I know no other means
to enjoy your company than so, for my father hath the keys of
the door.

VAN. Sal ic climb up tot you? sal ic fly up tot you? sal ic?
what sedgy?

MATH. Bid him do it, sister; we shall see his cunning.

LAUR. O, no; so you[530] may catch a fall. There, Master
Heigham, put yourself into that basket, and I will draw you up.
But no words, I pray you, for fear my sisters hear you.

VAN. No, no, no word. O de sout wench! Ic come, ic come!

LAUR. Are you ready, Master Heigham?

VAN. Ya ic, my sout lady.

MAR. Merrily then, my wenches.

LAUR. How heavy the ass is! Master Heigham, is there any in the
basket but yourself?

VAN. Neit, neit; dare be no man.

LAUR. Are you up, sir?

VAN. Neit, neit.

MAR. Nor never are you like to climb more higher.
Sisters, the woodcock's caught, the fool is cag'd!

VAN. My sout lady, I be noc neit up; pull me tot you.

MATH. When, can you tell? what, Master Vandal?
A weather-beaten soldier, an old wencher,
Thus to be overreach'd by three young girls!
Ah! sirrah, now we'll brag with Mistress Moore,
To have as fine a parrot as she hath.
Look, sisters, what a pretty fool it is!
What a green, greasy, shining coat he hath.
An almond for parrot! a rope for parrot![531]

VAN. Do you mocque me? seger, seger, I sal seg your vader.

LAUR. Do, and you dare: you see here is your fortune.
Disquiet not my father; if you do,
I'll send you with a vengeance to the ground.
Well, we must confess we trouble you,
And over-watching makes a wise man mad,
Much more a fool: there's a cushion for you.

MATH. To bore you through the nose.[532] [_Aside._

LAUR. To lay your head on.
Couch in your kennel, sleep, and fall to rest,
And so good night; for London maids scorn still,
A Dutchman should be seen to curb their will.

VAN. Hort ye, daughter, hort ye, God's seker-kin? will ye no
let me come tot you? ic bid you let me come tot you. Wat sal
ic don? ic would neit vor un hundred pound Alvaro and Delion
should see me op dit manner. Well, wat sal ic don? ic mout neit
call, vor de wenshes will cut de rope and break my neck. Ic
sal here bleiven til de morning, and dan ic sal call to Mester
Pisaro, and make him shafe and shite his dauctors. O de skellum
Frisco! O dese cruel hores!

_Enter_ PISARO.

PIS. I'll put the light out, lest I be espied;
For closely I have stolen me forth a-doors,
That I might know how my three sons have sped.
Now, afore God, my heart is passing light,
That I have overreach'd the Englishmen.
Ha, ha! Master Vandal, many such nights
Will 'suage your big-swoll'n bulk, and make it lank.
When I was young--yet though my hairs be grey,
I have a young man's spirit to the death,
And can as nimbly trip it with a girl
As those which fold the spring-tide in their beards.
Lord, how the very thought of former times
Supples these near-dried limbs with activeness!
Well, thoughts are shadows, sooner lost than seen.
Now to my daughters and their merry night.
I hope Alvaro and his company
Have read to them moral philosophy,
And they are full with it. Here I'll stay,
And tarry, till my gallant youths come forth.

_Enter_ HARVEY, WALGRAVE, _and_ HEIGHAM.

HEIGH. You madman, wild-oats, madcap! where art thou?

WAL. Here afore.

HAR. O, 'ware what love is! Ned hath found the scent;
And if the coney chance to miss her borough,
She's overborne, i' faith; she cannot stand it.

PIS. I know that voice, or I am much deceived.

HEIGH. Come, why loiter we? this is the door.
But soft; here's one asleep.

WAL. Come, let me feel.
O, 'tis some rogue or other: spurn him, spurn him.

HAR. Be not so wilful, prythee: let him lie.

HEIGH. Come back, come back; for we are past the house:
Yonder's Mathea's chamber with the light.

PIS. Well, fare a head, or I had been descried.
God's me! what makes the youngsters here so late?
I am "a rogue, and spurn him:" well, Jack-sauce,
The rogue is waking yet to spoil your sport. [_Aside._

WAL. Mat, Mistress Mathea! where be these girls?

_Enter_ MATHEA _alone above_.

MAT. Who's there below?

WAL. Thy Ned, kind Ned, thine honest trusty Ned.

MAT. No, no, it is the Frenchman in his stead,
That Monsieur Motleycoat, that can dissemble.
Hear you, Frenchman, pack to your whores in France:
Though I am Portingal by the father's side,
And therefore should be lustful, wanton, light;
Yet, good-man Goosecap, I will let you know
That I have so much English by the mother,
That no base, slavering French shall make me stoop:
And so, Sir Dandelion, fare you well.

HEIGH. What, speechless? not a word? why, how now, Ned?[533]

HAR. The wench hath ta'en him down, he hangs his head.

WAL. You Dandelion, you that talk so well,
Hark you a word or two, good Mistress Mat:
Did you appoint your friends to meet you here,
And being come, tell us of whores in France,
A Spanish jennet and an English mare,
A mongrel, half a dog and half a bitch,
With trandido, dildido, and I know not what?
Hear you, if you'll run away with Ned,
And be content to take me as you find me,
Why so--la, I am yours: if otherwise,
You'll change your Ned to be a Frenchman's trull!
Why then, Madame Delion, je vous laisserai a Dieu et la bonne fortune.

MATH. That voice assures me that it is my love.
Say truly, art thou my Ned? art thou my love?

WAL. 'Swounds! who should I be but Ned?
You make me swear.

_Enter above_ MARINA.

MAR. Who speak you to? Mathea, who's below?

HAR. Marina.

MAR. Young Master Harvey? for that voice saith so.

_Enter_ LAURENTIA.

LAUR. Speak, sister Mat, is not my true love there?

MATH. Ned is.

LAUR. Not Master Heigham?

HEIGH. Laurentia! here.

LAUR. I' faith, thou art welcome.

HEIGH. Better cannot fall.

MATH. Sweet, so art thou.

MAR. As much to mine.

LAUR. Nay, gentles, welcome all.

PIS. Here's cunning harlotries! They feed these off
With welcome and kind words, whilst other lads
Revel in that delight they should possess.
Good girls, I promise you, I like you well. [_Aside._

MAR. Say, Master Harvey: saw you, as you came,
That lecher, which my sire appoints my man?
I mean that wanton, base Italian,
That Spanish-leather spruce companion,
That antique ape, trick'd up in fashion?
Had the ass come, I'd learn him difference been
Betwixt an English gentleman and him.

HEIGH. How would you use him, sweet, if he should come?

MAR. Nay nothing, sweet, but only wash his crown.
Why, the ass wooes in such an amorous key,
That he presumes no wench should say him nay:
He slavers on[534] his fingers, wipes his bill,
And swears, "in faith you shall," "in faith I will;"
That I am almost mad to bide his wooing.

HEIGH. Look, what he said in word, I'll act in doing.

WAL. Leave thought of him--for day steals on apace--
And to our loves. Will you perform your words?
All things are ready, and the parson stands,
To join our[535] hearts in hearts, our hands in hands.
Night favours us, the thing is quickly done;
Then truss up bag and baggage, and begone;
And ere the morning, to augment your joys,
We'll make you mothers of six goodly boys.

HEIGH. Promise them three, good Ned, and say no more.

WAL. But I'll get three, and if I get not four.

PIS. There's a sound card at maw[536]--a lusty lad!
Your father thought him well, when one he had.

HEIGH. What say you, sweets? will you perform your words?

MATH. Love to true love no lesser meed affords.
We say we love you, and that love's fair breath
Shall lead us with you round about the earth:
And that our loves, vows, words, may all prove true.
Prepare your arms; for thus we fly to you. [_They embrace._[537]

WAL. This works like wax. Now, ere to-morrow day,
If you two ply it but as well as I,
We'll work our lands out of Pisaro's daughters,
And cancel all our bonds in their great bellies.
When the slave knows it, how the rogue will curse!

MATH. Sweetheart.

WAL. Mat.

MATH. Where art thou?

PIS. Here.

MATH. O Jesus! here's our father.

WAL. The devil he is!

HAR. Master Pisaro, twenty times good morrow,

PIS. Good-morrow? now, I tell you, gentlemen,
You wrong and move my patience overmuch.
What, will you rob me, kill me, cut my throat,
And set mine own blood here against me too?
You huswives, baggages, or what is worse.
Wilful, stubborn, [and] disobedient!
Use it not, gentlemen; abuse me not,
Newgate hath room, there's law enough in England.

HEIGH. Be not so testy; hear what we can say.

PIS. Will you be wiv'd? first learn to keep a wife:
Learn to be thrifty, learn to keep your lands,
And learn to pay your debts too, I advise, else----

WAL. What else? what lands? what debts? what will you do?
Have you our land in mortgage for your money?
Nay, since 'tis so, we owe you not a penny.
Fret not, fume not, never bend the brow:
You take ten in the hundred more than law.
We can complain--extortion--simony--
Newgate hath room, there's law enough in England.

HEIGH. Prythee, have done.

WAL. Prythee me no prythees.
Here is my wife! 'sblood, touch her, if thou dar'st.
Hear'st thou, I'll lie with her before thy face
Against the Cross in Cheap--here--anywhere,
What, you old crafty fox, you--

HEIGH. Ned, stop there.

PIS. Nay, nay, speak out; bear witness, gentlemen.
Where's Mouche? charge my musket! bring me my bill!
For here are some that mean to rob thy master.

_Enter_ ANTHONY.

I am a fox with you; well, Jack-sauce,
Beware, lest for a goose I prey on you.
[_Exeunt_ PISARO _and daughters_.
In, baggages! Mouche, make fast the door.

WAL. A vengeance on ill luck!

ANTH. What, never storm,
But bridle anger with wise government.

HEIGH. Whom? Anthony, our friend! Ah, now our hopes
Are found too light to balance our ill-haps.

ANTH. Tut, ne'er say so, for Anthony
Is not devoid of means to help his friends.

WAL. 'Swounds! what a devil made he forth so late?
I'll lay my life, 'twas he that feigned to sleep,
And we, all unsuspicious, term'd a rogue.
O God! had I but known him, if I had,
I would have writ such letters with my sword
Upon the bald skin of his parching pate,
That he should ne'er have liv'd to cross us more.

ANTH. These menaces are vain, and helpeth nought;
But I have, in the depth of my conceit,
Found out a more material stratagem.
Hark, Master Walgrave, your's craves quick despatch,
About it straight, stay not to say farewell.
[_Exit_ WALGRAVE.
You, Master Heigham, hie you to your chamber,
And stir not forth: my shadow, or myself,
Will in the morning early visit you.
Build on my promise, sir, and so good night.
[_Exit_ HEIGHAM.
Last, yet as great in love as to the first,
If you remember, once I told a jest
How, feigning to be sick, a friend of mine
Possess'd the happy issue of his love.
That counterfeited humour must you play;
I need not to instruct, you can conceive,
Use Master Brown, your host, as chief in this:
But first, to make the matter seem more true,
Sickly and sadly bid the churl good night.
I hear him at the window: there he is.

_Enter_ PISARO _above_.

Now for a trick to overreach the devil.
I tell you, sir, you wrong my master much,
And then to make amends, you give hard words:
H' hath been a friend to you; nay, more, a father.
I promise you, 'tis most ungently done.

PIS. Ay, well said, Mouche; now I see thy love,
And thou shalt see mine one day, if I live.--
None but my daughter, sir, hangs for your tooth:
[_Aside._
I'd rather see them hang'd first, ere you get them.

HAR. Master Pisaro, hear a dead man speak.
Who sings the woful accents of his end.
I do confess I love; then, let not love
Prove the sad engine of my life's remove.
Marina's rich possession was my bliss:
Then in her loss all joy eclipsed is.
As every plant takes virtue of the sun,
So from her eyes this life and being sprung;
But now, debarred of those clear-shining rays,
Death for earth gapes, and earth to death obeys.
Each word thou spak'st (O, speak not so again)
Bore death's true image on the word engraven;
Which as it flew, mix'd with heaven's airy breath,
Summon'd the dreadful sessions of my death.
I leave thee to thy wish, and may th' event
Prove equal to thy hope and heart's content.
Marina to that hap that happiest is!
My body to the grave, my soul to bliss.--
Have I done well? [_Exit_ HARVEY.

ANTH. Excellent well, in troth.

PIS. Ay, go, ay, go: your words move me as much,
As doth a stone being cast against the air,
But soft, what light is that? What folks be those?
O, 'tis Alvaro and his other friends,
I'll down and let them in. [_Exit._

_Enter_ BELLMAN, FRISCO, VANDAL, DELION, _and_ ALVARO.

FRIS. Where are we now, gaffer Butterick?

BEL. Why, know you not Crutched Friars? where be your wits?

ALV. What be this Croshe Friars? vedte padre dare; tack you
dat; me sal troble you no far.

BEL. I thank you, gentlemen, good night:
Good night, Frisco. [_Exit_ BELLMAN.

FRIS. Farewell, Butterick: what a clown it is.
Come on, my masters, merrily: I'll knock at the door.

ANTH. Who's there? Our three wise wooers?
Blockhead our man?
Had he not been, they might have hang'd themselves,
For any wenches they had hit upon.
Good morrow or good den,[538] I know not whether.

DEL. Monsieur La Mouche, what mack you out de huis so late?

_Enter_ PISARO _below_.

PIS. What, what; young men and sluggards? fie for shame!
You trifle time at home about vain toys,
Whilst others in the meantime steal your brides.
I tell you, sir, the English gentlemen
Had well-nigh mated you and me, and all.
The doors were open, and the girls abroad:
Their sweethearts ready to receive them, too;
And gone, forsooth, they had been, had not I
(I think by revelation) stopp'd their flight.
But I have coop'd them up, and so will keep them.
But, sirrah Frisco, where's the man I sent for?
Whose cloak have you got there? How now?
Where's Vandal?

FRIS. Forsooth, he is not here: Master Mendall, you mean, do
you not?

PIS. Why, loggerhead, him I sent for; where is he?
Where hast thou been? How hast thou spent thy time?
Did I not send thee to my son Vandal?

FRIS. Ay, Monsieur Mendall. Why, forsooth, I was at his
chamber, and we were coming hitherward, and he was very hot,
and bad me carry his cloak; and I no sooner had it, but he
(being very light) firks me down on the left hand, and I turn'd
down on the left hand, and so lost him.

PIS. Why, then you turn'd together, ass?

FRIS. No, sir, we never saw one another since.

PIS. Why, turn'd you not both on the left hand?

FRIS. No, forsooth: we turned both on the left hand.

PIS. Heyday! Why, yet you went both together.

FRIS. Ah, no! we went clean contrary, one from another.

PIS. Why, dolt--why, patch--why, ass, on which hand turned ye?

FRIS. Alas, alas! I cannot tell, forsooth: it was so dark I
could not see on which hand we turned; but I am sure we turned
one way.

PIS. Was ever creature plagued with such a dolt?
My son Vandal now hath lost himself,
And shall all night go straying 'bout the town;
Or meet with some strange watch that knows him not,
And all by such an arrant ass as this!

ANTH. No, no, you may soon smell the Dutchman's lodging.
Now for a figure--Out, alas! what's yonder?

PIS. Where?

FRIS. Heyday! heyday! a basket? It turns, ho!

PIS. Peace, ye villain, and let's see who's there?
Go, look about the house! Where are our weapons?
What might this mean?

FRIS. Look, look, look! There's one in it; he peeps out.
Is there ne'er a stone here to hurl at his nose?

PISA. What, wouldst thou break my windows with a stone?
How now, who's there I who are you, sir?

FRIS. Look, he peeps out again! O, it's Monsieur Mendall, it's
Monsieur Mendall. How got he up thither?

PIS. What, my son Vandal! how comes this to pass?

ALV. Signor Vandal, wat, do yo go to de wensh in dit little
basket.

VAN. O vader, vader! here be sush cruel dochterkins, ic ben
all so weary, all so weary, all so cold, for be in dit little
basket. Ic pray help de me.

FRIS. He looks like the sign of the Mouth without Bishopsgate
gaping: a great face and a great head, and no body.

PIS. Why, how now, son! What, have your adamants
Drawn you up so far, and there left you hanging
'Twixt heaven and earth, like Mahomet's sepulchre?

ANTH. They did unkindly, whosoe'er they were,
That plagued him here, like Tantalus in hell,
To touch his lips like the desired fruit,
And then to snatch it from his gaping chaps.

ALV. A little farder, Signer Vandal, and den may put you head
into de window, and cash de wensh.

VAN. Ic pray, vader, dat you help de me; ic pray, goody vader.

PIS. Help you, but how?

FRIS. Cut the rope.

ANTH. Sir, I'll go in and see.
And if I can, I'll let him down to you. [_Exit_ ANTHONY.

PIS. Do, gentle Mouche. Why, but here's a jest.
They say, high climbers have the greatest falls.
If you should fall, as how you'll do, I know not,
By'r Lady, I should doubt me of my son.
Pray to the rope to hold. Art thou there, Mouche?

_Enter_ ANTHONY _above_.

ANTH. Yes, sir. Now, you may choose whether you'll stay till I
let him down, or whether I shall cut him down?

FRIS. Cut him down, Master Mouse; cut him down, and let's see
how he'll tumble.

PIS. Why, sauce, who ask'd your counsel! let him down.
What, with a cushion too? why you provided
To lead your life as did Diogenes;
And for a tub to creep into a basket.

VAN. Ic sal seg you, vader, ic came here to your huis, and
spreak tol de dochterkin.

FRIS. Master Mendall, you are welcome out of the basket. I
smell a rat: it was not for nothing that you lost me.

VAN. O skellum! you run away from me.

PIS. I thought so, sirrah; you gave him the slip.

FRIS. Faugh! no, forsooth, I'll tell you how it was. When we
came from Bucklersbury into Cornhill, and I had taken the
cloak, then you should have turned down on your left hand, and
so have gone right forward, and so turned up again, and so have
crossed the street; and you, like an ass----

PIS. Why, how now, rascal, is your manners such?
You ass! you dolt! why led you him through Cornhill?
Your way had been to come through Canning Street.[539]

FRIS. Why, so I did, sir.

PIS. Why, thou sayest ye were in Cornhill?

FRIS. Indeed, sir, there were three faults: the night was dark,
Master Mendall drunk, and I sleepy, that we could not tell very
well which way we went.

PIS. Sirrah, I owe for this a cudgelling.
But, gentlemen, sith things have fallen out so,
And for I see Vandal quakes for cold,
This night accept your lodgings in my house,
And in the morning forward with your marriage.
Come on, my sons; sirrah, fetch up more wood. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[523] Frisco puts on Vandal's cloak.

[524] Heigham pretends that he is a dealer in glasses.

[525] Another name for a clown or fool.

[526] [A proverbial expression, of which this appears to be the earliest occurrence in print. Its import is not particularly clear; but see Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 128.]

[527] _i.e._, For luck in his undertaking.

[528] Playing upon the words _hose_ and _shoes_.

[529] A common expression in old writers, indicating that some party has not been treated with sufficient respect. M is short for Master, and Frisco addresses himself to the Bellman, who had merely called him Frisco. Thus, in "Eastward Ho!" act iv. sc. 1, Quicksilver asks, "Must Golding sit upon us?" To which the constable replies, "You might carry an M under your girdle."

[530] The copy of 1616 has it as it is here reprinted, but the two later editions read, _O no, so he may catch a fall_, as if replying to Mathea.

[531] This expression seems to be proverbial, and Nash or Lilly (for the authorship is disputed) used it as the title to one of the Mar Martin tracts. Skelton, in his poem, "Speak Parrot," has the expression, "Parrot must have an almond." It is met with in Middleton's "Spanish Gipsy," act ii. sc. 1; in Ben Jonson's "Magnetic Lady," act v. sc. 5; in Dekker's "Fortunatus," act i. sc. 1, and various other plays. The lines from Butler are in point with reference to the latter part of the line, _a rope for parrot_.

Could tell what subtlest parrots mean;
What member 'tis of whom they talk,
When they cry "_rope_" and "walk, knava, walk."

[532] [A play on the double meaning of the word _cushion_.]

[533] In all the quartos this line is given to Walgrave: it appears to belong to Heigham, as Harvey speaks next.

[534] Old copies, _not_.

[535] Old copies, _join, as_.

[536] Maw is a game at cards, frequently mentioned in old writers. [Probably the four was the best card.]

[537] Of course, coming down upon the stage first, as the preceding dialogue takes place while the lovers are below and the ladies above.

[538] Even.

[539] Now called Cannon Street.