Chapter XIV: Introduction (1)

John Cook, the author of this play, is totally unknown. No contemporary writer has taken the least notice of him, nor has any biographer since given the slightest account of his life. All that we are informed of is, that he wrote the following dramatic performance. Langbaine,[144] and the writers since, ascribe the first title of it to the excellent performance of Thomas Green in the part of Bubble, whose universal repartee to all compliments is _Tu quoque_. Green was both a writer and actor,[145] and with great probability[146] is supposed to have been a relation of Shakespeare's, and the person by whom he was introduced to the theatre. He was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, which is ascertained by the following lines,[147] spoken by him in one of the old comedies, in the character of a clown:--

"I prattled poesy in my nurse's arms,
And, born where late our swan of Avon sung,
In Avon's streams we both of us have lav'd,
And both came out together."

This passage is quoted by Chetwood from the "Two Maids of Moreclack," where it is not to be found, though it seems to be a genuine extract; and the writer, by whom it was produced, had perhaps forgotten whence he transcribed it. Heywood, who published this play, says in the preface to it:--"As for Master Greene, all that I will speak of him (and that without flattery) is this: there was not an actor of his nature in his time of better ability in performance of what he undertook, more applauded by the audience, of greater grace at the court, or of more general love in the city." From this preface it appears Green was dead when it was written, and Oldys[148] says there are three epitaphs upon him in Braithwaite's "Remains after Death," 1618, by which it seems that he died after being newly arrived from sea.[149] He was the author of "A Poets Vision and a Princes Glorie. Dedicated to the high and mightie Prince James, King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland," 4º, 1603; and some verses prefixed to [the reprint in octavo of] Drayton's poem on the Barons' Wars. I have seen only two editions of this comedy, one without a date, and the other in 1614, which I apprehend was about the time it was originally published. Chetwood, upon whom no dependence is to be had with respect to dates, asserts it was printed in 1599.[150] As it is said to have been acted by the Queen's servants, it probably appeared on the stage in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. [There is an entry in the office-book of the Master of the Revels under date of Twelfth Night, 1624, showing that "the masque being put off, and the Prince only there," Tu Quoque, "by the Queen of Bohemia's servants, was acted in its stead."[151]] Langbaine says it was revived after the Restoration at the theatre in Little Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.

"Green's Tu Quoque" is mentioned in "The World's Folly," by I. H., 1615, which contains a general attack on the stage. It would also seem, from the subsequent passage, as if Green the actor had performed the part of a baboon:--

"'Vos quoque' *[or, 'Tu quoque,' opposite the asterisk in the margin] and you also who, with Scylla-barking, Stentor-throated bellowings, flash-choaking squibbles of absurd vanities into the nosthrils of your spectators; barbarously diverting nature and defacing Gods owne image by metamorphosing humane shape* [_Greenes Baboon_ in the margin opposite the asterisk] into bestiall forme."

FOOTNOTES:

[144] P. 73.

[145] He was an actor at the Red Bull Theatre, as appears by a rather
curious scene in the course of this play, where Green is spoken of by
name--

"GERALDINE. Why then we'll go to the Red Bull: they say Green's
a good clown.

BUBBLE. Green! Green's an ass.

SCATTERGOOD. Wherefore do you say so?

BUBBLE. Indeed. I ha' no reason; for they say he is as like me
as ever he can look."

There seems every probability that the play when originally produced
had some other title, until the excellence of Green's performance, and
his mode of delivering _Tu quoque_, gave it his name. It could
scarcely be brought out in the first instance under the appellation of
"Green's 'Tu Quoque,'" before it was known how it would succeed, and
how his acting would tell in the part of Bubble. In this respect
perhaps Langbaine was mistaken.--_Collier._ [It appears likely that
the title under which the piece was originally brought on the stage
was simply _The City Gallant_.]

[146] "Attempt to Ascertain the Order of Shakespeare's Plays," by Mr
Malone, p. 275. [See Dyce's "Shakespeare," 1868, i. 114, 115. There
seems to be some confusion between two persons of the name of Green,
living at this time, one an actor and the author of a little poem
printed in 1603, the other a relation to Shakespeare, and clerk to the
corporation of Stratford.]

[147] "The British Theatre," p. 9.

[148] MSS. additions to Langbaine, p. 73.

[149] The following are the epitaphs mentioned by Oldys, from
Braithwaite's Remains--

"_Upon an actor now of late deceased: and upon his action Tu Quoque:
and first upon his travel._

Hee whom this mouldered clod of earth doth hide,
New come from sea, made but one face and dide.

_Upon his creditors._

His debtors now no fault with him can finde,
Sith he has paid to nature all's behinde.

_Upon his fellow actors._

What can you crave of your poore fellow more?
He does but what _Tu Quoque_ did before:
Then give him dying, actions second wreath,
That second'd him in action and in death."

In actorem Mimicum cui vix parem cernimus superstitem.
_Quæcunque orta sunt occidunt_. Sallust.

Ver vireat quod te peperit (viridissima proles)
Quæque tegit cineres, ipsa virescat humus.
Transis ab exiguis nunquam periture theatris
Ut repetas sacri pulchra theatru Jovis

--"Remains after Death," 8vo. 1618, Sig. G 5.

[150] Heywood speaks of it as "just published in print." The date of
his epistle "to the Reader," however, may be older than 1614, the year
of the earliest printed copy now known.--_Collier._ [Heywood merely
says that he was "in the way just when this play was to be published
in print."]

[151] [Mr Collier's addition.]

TO THE READER

To gratulate the love and memory of my worthy friend the author, and my entirely beloved fellow the actor, I could not choose, being in the way just when this play was to be published in print, but to prefix some token of my affection to either in the frontispiece of the book. For the gentleman that wrote it, his poem itself can better speak his praise than any oratory from me. Nor can I tell whether this work was divulged with his consent or no; but, howsoever, it hath passed the test of the stage with so general an applause, pity it were but it should likewise have the honour of the press. As for Master Green, all that I will speak of him (and that without flattery) is this (if I were worthy to censure), there was not an actor of his nature, in his time, of better ability in performance of what he undertook, more applauded by the audience, of greater grace at the court, or of more general love in the city: and so with this brief character of his memory I commit him to his rest.

THOMAS HEYWOOD.

UPON THE DEATH OF THOMAS GREEN.

How fast bleak Autumn changeth Flora's dye!
What yesterday was Green, now's sear and dry.

W.R.[152]

[152] Probably William Rowley.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR LIONEL RASH.} { FOX.
OLD GERALDINE. } { GATHERSCRAP.
GERALDINE. } { BASKETHILT.
WILL RASH. } { SPRINKLE.
SPENDALL. } { PRISONERS.
STAINES. } { DRAWERS, _&c._
BUBBLE. } {
LONGFIELD. } { WOMEN.
BALANCE. } {
SCATTERGOOD. } { GERTRUDE.
NINNIHAMMER. } { JOYCE.
MASTER BLANK. } { PHILLIS.
PURSENET. } { WIDOW.
LODGE. } { SWEATMAN, _a bawd_.
HOLDFAST. } { NAN TICKLEMAN, _a whore_.

THE CITY GALLANT.

_A mercer's shop discovered_, GERTRUDE _working in it;_ SPENDALL
_walking by the shop_. MASTER BALANCE _walking over the stage.
After him_ LONGFIELD _and_ GERALDINE.

SPEND. What lack you, sir? fair stuffs or velvets?

BAL. Good morrow, Frank.

SPEND. Good morrow, Master Balance.

GERA. Save you, Master Longfield.

LONG. And you, sir. What business draws you towards this end o' th' town?

GERA. Faith, no great serious affairs; only a stirring humour to walk, and partly to see the beauties of the city: but it may be you can instruct me. Pray, whose shop's this?

LONG. Why, 'tis Will Rash's father's: a man you are well acquainted with.

_Enter a_ WENCH _with a basket of linen_.

GERA. As with yourself: and is that his sister?

LONG. Marry, is it, sir?

GERA. Pray, let us walk: I would behold her better.

WENCH. Buy some coifs, handkerchiefs, or very good bonelace, mistress?

GERT. None.

WENCH. Will you buy any handkerchiefs, sir?

SPEND. Yes. Have you any fine ones?

WENCH. I'll show you choice: please you look, sir?

SPEND. How now! what news?

WENCH. Mistress Tickleman has sent you a letter, and expects your company at night: and entreats you to send her an angel, whether you can come, or whether you cannot.

[SPENDALL _reads_.

_Sweet rascal; if your love be as earnest as your protestation, you will meet me this night at supper: you know the rendezvous. There will be good company; a noise of choice fiddlers;[153] a fine boy with an excellent voice; very good songs, and bawdy; and, which is more, I do purpose myself to be exceeding merry; but if you come not, I shall pout myself sick, and not eat one bit to-night,_

_Your continual close friend_,
NAN TICKLEMAN.

_I pray send me an angel by the bearer, whether
ye can come, or whether ye cannot._

SPEND. What's the price of these two?

WENCH. Half a crown, in truth.

SPEND. Hold thee; there's an angel, and commend me to my delight; tell her I will not fail her, though I lose my freedom by't. [_Aside._

WENCH. I thank you, sir. Buy any fine handkerchiefs?

[_Exit_ WENCH.

LONG. You are taken, sir, extremely: what's the object?

GERA. She's wondrous fair.

LONG. Nay, and your thoughts be on wenching, I'll leave you.

GERA. You shall not be so unfriendly; pray, assist me:
We'll to the shop, and cheapen stuffs or satins.

SPEND. What lack you, gentlemen? fine stuffs, velvets, or satins? pray, come near.

GERA. Let me see a good satin.

SPEND. You shall, sir. What colour?

GERA. Faith, I am indifferent. What colour most affects you, lady?

GERT. Sir!

GERA. Without offence, fair creature, I demand it.

GERT. Sir, I believe it; but I never did
Tie my affection unto any colour.

GERA. But my affection, fairest, is fast tied
Unto the crimson colour of your cheek.

GERT. You relish too much courtier, sir.

LONG. What's the price of this?

SPEND. Fifteen,[154] indeed, sir.

LONG. You set a high rate on't; it had need be good.

SPEND. Good! if you find a better i' th' town, I'll give you mine for nothing. If you were my own brother, I'd put it into your hands. Look upon't; 'tis close-wrought, and has an excellent gloss.

LONG. Ay, I see't.

SPEND. Pray, sir, come into the next room: I'll show you that of a lower price shall perhaps better please you.

LONG. This fellow has an excellent tongue: sure, he was brought up in the Exchange.

SPEND. Will you come in, sir?

LONG. No; 'tis no matter, for I mean to buy none.

GERA. Prythee, walk in; what you bargain for, I'll discharge.

LONG. Say so? fall to your work, I'll be your chapman.
[_Exeunt_ SPENDALL, LONGFIELD.

GERA. Why do you say I flatter?

GERT. Why! you do;
And so do all men when they women woo.

GERA. Who looks on heaven, and not admires the work?
Who views a well-cut diamond does not praise
The beauty of the stone? if these deserve
The name of excellent, I lack a word
For thee, which merit'st more--
More than the tongue of man can attribute.

GERT. This is pretty poetry: good fiction, this.
Sir, I must leave you.

GERA. Leave with me first some comfort.

GERT. What would you crave?

GERA. That which I fear you will not let me have.

GERT. You do not know my bounty. Say what 'tis?

GERA. No more, fair creature, than a modest kiss.

GERT. If I should give you one, would you refrain,
On that condition, ne'er to beg again?

GERA. I dare not grant to that.

GERT. Then't seems you have,
Though you get nothing, a delight to crave.
One will not hurt my lip, which you may take,
Not for your love, but for your absence sake.
So farewell, sir. [_Exit_ GERTRUDE.

GERA. O, fare thee well, fair regent of my soul!
Never let ill sit near thee, unless it come
To purge itself. Be, as thou ever seemest,
An angel of thy sex, born to make happy
The man that shall possess thee for his bride.

_Enter_ SPENDALL _and_ LONGFIELD.

SPEND. Will you have it for thirteen shillings and sixpence? I'll fall to as low a price as I can, because I'll buy your custom.

LONG. How now, man? what, entranced?

GERA. Good sir, ha' you done?

LONG. Yes, faith, I think as much as you, and 'tis just nothing. Where's the wench?

GERA. She's here, sir, here.

[_Points to his heart._

LONG. Ud's pity! unbutton, man, thou'lt stifle her else.

GERA. Nay, good sir, will you go?

LONG. With all my heart; I stay but for you.

SPEND. Do you hear, sir?

LONG. What say you?

SPEND. Will you take it for thirteen?

LONG. Not a penny more than I bid. [_Exeunt_ GERALDINE _and_ LONGFIELD.

SPEND. Why, then, say you might have had a good bargain. Where's this boy to make up the wares? Here's some ten pieces opened, and all to no purpose.

_Enter_ BOY.

BOY. O Frank! shut up shop, shut up shop!

SPEND. Shut up shop, boy? Why?

BOY. My master is come from the court knighted, and bid us; for he says he will have the first year of the reign of his knighthood kept holiday: here he comes.

_Enter_ SIR LIONEL RASH.

SPEND. God give your worship joy, sir.

SIR L. RASH. O Frank! I have the worship now in the right kind; the sword of my knighthood sticks still upon my shoulders, and I feel the blow in my purse; it has cut two leather bags asunder. But all's one, honour must be purchased. I will give over my city coat, and betake myself to the court jacket. As for trade, I will deal in't no longer; I will seat thee in my shop, and it shall be thy care to ask men what they lack: my stock shall be summed up, and I will call thee to an account for it.

SPEND. My service, sir, never deserved so much;
Nor could I ever hope so large a bounty
Could spring out of your love.

SIR L. RASH. That's all one.
I do love to do things beyond men's hopes.
To-morrow I remove into the Strand:
There for this quarter dwell, the next at Fulham.
He that hath choice, may shift; the whilst shalt thou
Be master of this house, and rent it free.

SPEND. I thank you, sir.

SIR L. RASH. To-day I'll go dine with my Lord Mayor,
To-morrow with the sheriffs, and next day
With th' aldermen. I will spread the ensign
Of my knighthood over the face of the city,
Which shall strike as great a terror to my enemies
As ever Tamerlane [did] to the Turks.
Come, Frank, come in with me, and see the meat,
Upon the which my knighthood first shall eat. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ STAINES.

STAINES. There is a devil has haunted me these three years, in likeness of an usurer: a fellow that in all his life never ate three groat loaves out of his own purse, nor ever warmed him but at other men's fires; never saw a joint of mutton in his own house these four-and-twenty years, but always cosened the poor prisoners, for he always bought his victuals out of the alms-basket; and yet this rogue now feeds upon capons, which my tenants send him out of the country; he is landlord, forsooth, over all my possessions. Well, I am spent; and this rogue has consumed me. I dare not walk abroad to see my friends, for fear the serjeants should take acquaintance of me: my refuge is Ireland or Virginia:[155] necessity cries out, and I will presently to West Chester.

_Enter_ BUBBLE.

How now, Bubble! hast thou pack'd up all thy things?
Our parting-time is come: nay, prythee, do not weep.

BUB. Affection, sir, will burst out.

STAINES. Thou hast been a faithful servant to me. Go to thy uncle, he'll give thee entertainment: tell him, upon the stony rock of his merciless heart my fortunes suffer shipwreck.

BUB. I will tell him he is an usuring rascal, and one that would do the commonwealth good if he were hanged.

STAINES. Which thou hast cause to wish for; thou art his heir, my affectionate Bubble.

BUB. But, master, wherefore should we be parted?

STAINES. Because my fortunes are desperate, thine are hopeful.

BUB. Why, but whither do you mean to go, master?

STAINES. Why, to sea.

BUB. To sea! Lord bless us, methinks I hear of a tempest already. But what will you do at sea?

STAINES. Why, as other gallants do that are spent, turn pirate.

BUB. O master, have the grace of Wapping before your eyes, remember a high tide;[156] give not your friends cause to wet their handkerchiefs. Nay, master, I'll tell you a better course than so; you and I will go and rob my uncle; if we 'scape, we'll domineer together; if we be taken, we'll be hanged together at Tyburn; that's the warmer gallows of the two.

_Enter_ MESSENGER.

MES. By your leave, sir, whereabouts dwells one Master Bubble?

BUB. Do you hear, my friend? do you know Master Bubble, if you do see him?

MES. No, in truth, do I not.

BUB. What is your business with Master Bubble?

MES. Marry, sir, I come with welcome news to him.

BUB. Tell it, my friend: I am the man.

MES. May I be assured, sir, that your name is Master Bubble?

BUB. I tell thee, honest friend, my name is Master Bubble, Master Bartholomew Bubble.

MES. Why then, sir, you are heir to a million; for your uncle, the rich usurer, is dead.

BUB. Pray thee, honest friend, go to the next haberdasher's, and bid him send me a new melancholy hat, and take thou that for thy labour.

MES. I will, sir. [_Exit._

_Enter another_ MESSENGER _hastily, and knocks_.

BUB. Umh. umh, umh!

STAINES. I would the news were true: see how my little Bubble is blown up with't!

BUB. Do you hear, my friend; for what do you knock there?

2D MES. Marry, sir, I would speak with the worshipful Master Bubble.

BUB. The worshipful! and what would you do with the worshipful Master Bubble? I am the man.

2D MES. I cry your worship mercy then: Master Thong, the belt-maker, sent me to your worship, to give you notice that your uncle is dead, and that you are his only heir. [_Exit._

BUB. Thy news is good, and I have look'd for't long;
Thanks unto thee, my friend, and goodman Thong.

_Enter_ MASTER BLANK.

STAINES. Certainly this news is true; for see another: by this light, his scrivener! Now, Master Blank, whither away so fast?

BLANK. Master Staines, God save you. Where is your man?

STAINES. Why, look you, sir; do you not see him?

BLANK. God save the right worshipful Master Bubble; I bring you heavy news with a light heart.

BUB. What are you?

BLANK. I am your worship's poor scrivener.

BUB. He is an honest man, it seems, for he hath both his ears.

BLANK. I am one that your worship's uncle committed some trust in for the putting out of his money, and I hope I shall have the putting out of yours.

BUB. The putting out of mine! Would you have the putting out of my money?

BLANK. Yea, sir.

BUB. No, sir, I am old enough to put out my own money.

BLANK. I have writings of your worship's.

STAINES. As thou lov'st thy profit, hold thy tongue; thou and I will confer. [_Aside._]

BUB. Do you hear, my friend? Can you tell me when and how my uncle died?

BLANK. Yes, sir; he died this morning, and he was killed by a butcher.

BUB. How! by a butcher?

BLANK. Yes indeed, sir; for going this morning into the market to cheapen meat, he fell down stark dead, because a butcher asked him four shillings for a shoulder of mutton.

BUB. How, stark dead! and could not _aqua vitæ_ fetch him again?

BLANK. No, sir; nor _rosa solis_ neither; and yet there was trial made of both.

BUB. I shall love _aqua vitæ_ and _rosa solis_ the better while I live.

[_Aside._

STAINES. Will it please your worship to accept of my poor service? you know my case is desperate; I beseech you that I may feed upon your bread, though it be of the brownest, and drink of your drink, though it may be of the smallest; for I am humble in body and dejected in mind, and will do your worship as good service for forty shillings a year as another shall for three pounds.

BUB. I will not stand with you for such a matter, because you have been my master; but otherwise I will entertain no man without some knight's or lady's letter for their behaviour. Gervase, I take it, is your Christian name?

STAINES. Yes, if it please your worship.

BUB. Well, Gervase, be a good servant, and you shall find me a dutiful master; and because you have been a gentleman, I will entertain you for my tutor in behaviour. Conduct me to my palace.

[_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ GERALDINE, _as in his study, reading_.

GERA. _As little children love to play with fire,
And will not leave till they themselves do burn;
So did I fondly dally with desire,
Until love's flame grew hot; I could not turn,
Nor well avoid, but sigh, and sob, and mourn,
As children do, when as they feel the pain,
Till tender mothers kiss them whole again._
Fie! what unsavoury stuff is this! but she,
Whose mature judgment can distinguish things,
Will thus conceit: tales, that are harshest told,
Have smoothest meanings, and to speak are bold.
It is the first-born sonnet of my brain;
Why[157] suck'd a white leaf from my black-lipp'd pen
So sad employment?

_Enter_ WILL RASH _and_ LONGFIELD.

Yet the dry paper drinks it up as deep,
As if it flow'd from Petrarch's cunning quill.

W. RASH. How now! what have we here? a sonnet and a satire, coupled together like my lady's dog and her monkey?

_As little children, &c._

GERA. Prythee, away: by the deepest oath that can be sworn, thou shalt not read it; by our friendship I conjure thee! prythee, let go.

W. RASH. Now, in the name of Cupid, what want'st thou? a pigeon, a dove, a mate, a turtle? Dost thou love fowl, ha?

_O no; she's fairer thrice than is the queen,_
_Who beauteous Venus called is by name._

Prythee, let me know what she is thou lovest, that I may shun her if I should chance to meet her.

LONG. Why, I'll tell you, sir, what she is, if you do not know.

W. RASH. No, not I, I protest.

LONG. Why, 'tis your sister.

W. RASH. How! my sister?

LONG. Yes, your eldest sister.

W. RASH. Now God bless the man: he had better choose a wench that has been bred and born in an alley: her tongue is a perpetual motion; thought is not so swift as it is; and, for pride, the woman that had her ruff poked by the devil is but a puritan to her.[158] Thou couldst never have fastened thy affection on a worse subject; she'll flout faster than a court waiting-woman in progress[159]; any man that comes in the way of honesty does she set her mark upon, that is, a villanous jest; for she is a kind of poetess, and will make ballads upon the calves of your legs. I prythee, let her alone, she'll never make a good wife for any man, unless it be a leather-dresser; for perhaps he in time may turn her.

GERA. Thou hast a privilege to utter this:
But, by my life, my own blood could not 'scape
A chastisement for thus profaning her
Whose virtues sit above men's calumnies.
Had mine own brother spoke thus liberally,[160]
My fury should have taught him better manners.

LONG. No more words, as you fear a challenge.

W. RASH. I may tell thee in thine ear, I am glad to hear what I do; I pray God send her no worse husband, nor he no worse wife.

Do you hear, love, will you take your cloak and rapier,
And walk abroad into some wholesome air?
I do much fear thy infection: good counsel,
I see, will do no good on thee; but pursue the end,
And to thy thoughts I'll prove a faithful friend. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ SPENDALL, NAN TICKLEMAN, SWEATMAN, PURSENET, _and a_ DRAWER.

SPEND. Here's a spacious room to walk in: sirrah, set down the candle, and fetch us a quart of ipocras[161], and so we'll part.

SWEAT. Nay, faith, son, we'll have a pottle; let's ne'er be covetous in our young days.

SPEND. A pottle, sirrah; do you hear?

DRAWER. Yes, sir, you shall.

SPEND. How now, wench! how dost?

TICKLE. Faith, I am somewhat sick; yet I should be well enough if I had a new gown.

SPEND. Why, here's my hand; within these three days thou shalt have one.

SWEAT. And will you, son, remember me for a new forepart? by my troth, my old one is worn so bare, I am ashamed anybody should see't.

SPEND. Why, did I ever fail of my promise?

SWEAT. No, in sincerity, didst thou not.

_Enter_ DRAWER.

DRAWER. Here's a cup of rich ipocras. [_Exit._

SPEND. Here, sister, mother, and Master Pursenet: nay, good sir, be not so dejected; for, by this wine, to-morrow I will send you stuff for a new suit, and as much as shall line you a cloak clean through.

PURSE. I thank you, and shall study to deserve----

SPEND. Here, boy, fill, and hang that curmudgeon, that's good for nobody but himself.

PURSE. Heroicly spoken, by this candle! 'tis pity thou wert not made a lord.

SPEND. A lord? by this light, I do not think but to be Lord Mayor of London before I die, and have three pageants carried before me, besides a ship and an unicorn. 'Prentices may pray for that time; for whenever it happens, I will make another Shrove Tuesday[162] for them.

_Enter_ DRAWER.

DRAWER. Young Master Rash has sent you a quart of Malaga[163].

SPEND. Master Rash! zounds! how does he know that I am here?

DRAWER. Nay, I know not, sir.

SPEND. Know not! it comes through you and your rascally glib-tongued companions. 'Tis my master's son: a fine gentleman he is, and a boon companion: I must go see him.

[_Exit_ SPENDALL.

SWEAT. Boy, fill us a cup of your malaga, we'll drink to Master Spendall in his absence: there's not a finer spirit of a citizen within the walls. Here, Master Pursenet, you shall pledge him.

PURSE. I'll not refuse it, were it puddle: by Styx, he is a bountiful gentleman, and I shall report him so. Here, Mistress Tickleman, shall I charge you?

TICKLE. Do your worst, serjeant: I'll pledge my young Spendall a whole sea, as they say: fa, la, la, la, la! Would the music were here again; I do begin to be wanton. Ipocras, sirrah, and a dry biscuit! Here, bawd, a carouse!

SWEAT. Bawd, i' faith! you begin to grow light i' the head. I pray no more such words; for, if you do, I shall grow into distempers.

TICKLE. Distempers! hang your distempers; be angry with me, and thou dar'st. I pray, who feeds you, but I? who keeps thy feather-beds from the brokers, but I? 'tis not your sausage-face, thick, clouted[164] cream-rampallion[165] at home, that snuffles in the nose like a decayed bagpipe.

PURSE. Nay, sweet Mistress Tickleman, be concordant; reverence antiquity.

_Enter_ RASH, LONGFIELD, _and_ SPENDALL.

RASH. Save you, sweet creatures of beauty, save you: how now, old Beelzebub, how dost thou?

SWEAT. Beelzebub! Beelzebub in thy face!

SPEND. Nay, good words, Mistress Sweatman: he's a young gallant; you must not weigh what he says.

RASH. I would my lamentable complaining lover had been here: here had been a supersedeas for his melancholy; and, i' faith, Frank, I am glad my father has turned over his shop to thee. I hope I, or any friend of mine, shall have so much credit with thee, as to stand in thy books for a suit of satin.

SPEND. For a whole piece, if you please; any friend of yours shall command me to the last remnant.

RASH. Why, God-a-mercy, Frank; what, shall's to dice?

SPEND. Dice or drink: here's forty crowns: as long as that will last--anything.

RASH. Why, there spoke a gingling boy.

SPEND. A pox of money! 'tis but rubbish; and he that hoards it up is but a scavenger. If there be cards i' the house, let's go to primero.

RASH. Primero! why, I thought thou hadst not been so much gamester as to play at it.

SPEND. Gamester! to say truth, I am none; but what is it I will not be in good company? I will fit myself to all humours; I will game with a gamester, drink with a drunkard, be civil with a citizen, fight with a swaggerer, and drab with a whoremaster.

_Enter a_ SWAGGERER, _puffing_.

RASH. An excellent humour, i' faith.

LONG. Zounds! what have we here?

SPEND. A land-porpoise, I think.

RASH. This is no angry, nor no roaring boy, but a blustering boy: now, Æolus defend us! what puffs are these?

SWAG. I do smell a whore.

DRAWER. O gentlemen, give him good words; he's one of the roaring boys.

SWAG. Rogue!

DRAWER. Here, sir.

SWAG. Take my cloak, I must unbuckle; my pickled oysters work; puff, puff!

SPEND. Puff, puff!

SWAG. Dost thou retort--in opposition stand?

SPEND. Out, you swaggering rogue! zounds, I'll kick him out of the room!

[_Beats him away._

TICKLE. Out, alas! their naked tools are out.

SPEND. Fear not, sweetheart; come along with me. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _sola_.

GERT. Thrice-happy days they were, and too soon gone,
When as the heart was coupled with the tongue;
And no deceitful flattery or guile
Hung on the lover's tear-commixed smile.
Could women learn but that imperiousness,
By which men use to stint our happiness,
When they have purchas'd us for to be theirs
By customary sighs and forced tears:
To give us bits of kindness, lest we faint,
But no abundance that we ever want,
And still are begging; which too well they know
Endears affection, and doth make it grow:
Had we these sleights, how happy were we then,
That we might glory over lovesick men!
But arts we know not, nor have any skill
To feign a sour look to a pleasing will;

_Enter_ JOYCE.

Nor couch a secret love in show of hate:
But, if we like, must be compassionate.
Yet I will strive to bridle and conceal
The hid affection which my heart doth feel.

JOYCE. Now the boy with the bird-bolt[166] be praised! Nay, faith, sister, forward: 'twas an excellent passion.[167] Come, let's hear, what is he? If he be a proper man, and have a black eye, a smooth chin, and a curled pate, take him, wench; if my father will not consent, run away with him, I'll help to convey you.

GERT. You talk strangely, sister.

JOYCE. Sister, sister, dissemble not with me, though you do mean to dissemble with your lover. Though you have protested to conceal your affection, by this tongue, you shall not; for I'll discover all, as soon as I know the gentleman.

GERT. Discover! what will you discover?

JOYCE. Marry, enough, I'll warrant thee. First and foremost, I'll tell him thou read'st love-passions in print, and speakest every morning without book to thy looking-glass: next, that thou never sleepest till an hour after the bellman: that, as soon as thou art asleep, thou art in a dream, and in a dream thou art the kindest and comfortablest bed-fellow for kissings and embracings: by this hand, I cannot rest for thee: but our father----

_Enter_ SIR LIONEL.

SIR LIONEL. How now! what are you two consulting on? On husbands? You think you lose time, I am sure; but hold your own a little, girls; it shall not be long ere I'll provide for you: and for you, Gertrude, I have bethought myself already.

Whirlpit, the usurer, is late deceas'd:
A man of unknown wealth, which he has left
Unto a provident kinsman, as I hear,
That was once servant to that unthrift Staines.
A prudent gentleman they say he is,
And, as I take it, called Master Bubble.

JOYCE. Bubble! [_She makes a grimace._

SIR LIONEL. Yes, nimble-chaps; what say you to that?

JOYCE. Nothing; but that I wish his Christian name were Water.[168]

GERT. Sir, I'm at your disposing; but my mind
Stands not as yet towards marriage.
Were you so pleas'd, I would a little longer
Enjoy the quiet of a single bed.

SIR LIONEL. Here's the right trick of them all: let a man
Be motion'd to 'em, they could be content
To lead a single life, forsooth: when the harlots
Do pine and run into diseases,
Eat chalk and oatmeal, cry and creep in corners,
Which are manifest tokens of their longings;
And yet they will dissemble. [_Aside._] But, Gertude,
As you do owe me reverence, and will pay it,
Prepare yourself to like this gentleman,
Who can maintain thee in thy choice of gowns,
Of tires, of servants, and of costly jewels;
Nay for a need, out of his easy nature,
May'st draw him to the keeping of a coach
For country, and caroch[169] for London:
Indeed, what might'st thou not?

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

SER. Sir, here's one come from Master Bubble.
To invite you to the funeral of his uncle.

SIR LIONEL. Thank the messenger, and make him drink.
Tell him, I will not fail to wait the corse:
Yet stay, I will go talk with him myself.
Gertrude, think upon what I have told you,
And let me, ere it be long, receive your answer.
[_Exeunt_ SIR LIONEL _and_ SERVANT.

JOYCE. Sister, sister!

GERT. What say you, sister?

JOYCE. Shall I provide a cord?

GERT. A cord! what to do?

JOYCE. Why, to let thee out at the window. Do not I know that thou wilt run away with the gentleman for whom you made the passion, rather than endure this same Bubble that my father talks of? 'Twere good you would let me be of your counsel, lest I break the neck of your plot.

GERT. Sister, [you] know I love thee,
And I'll not think a thought thou shalt not know.
I love a gentleman, that answers me
In all the rights of love as faithfully:
Has woo'd me oft with sonnets and with tears:
Yet I seem still to slight him. Experience tells,
The jewel that's enjoy'd is not esteem'd;
Things hardly got are always highest deem'd.

JOYCE. You say well, sister; but it is not good to linger out too long; continuance of time will take away any man's stomach in the world. I hope the next time that he comes to you I shall see him.

GERT. You shall.

JOYCE. Why, go to then: you shall have my opinion of him. If he deserve thee, thou shalt delay him no longer; for if you cannot find in your heart to tell him you love him, I'll sigh it out for you. Come, we little creatures must help one another. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ GERALDINE.

GERA. How cheerfully things look in this place!
'Tis always spring-time here; such is the grace
And potency of her who has the bliss
To make it still Elysium where she is.
Nor doth the king of flames in's golden fires,
After a tempest, answer men's desires,
When as he casts his comfortable beams
Over the flowery fields and silver streams,
As her illustrate beauty strikes in me,
And wraps my soul up to felicity.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ JOYCE _aloft_.

JOYCE. Do you hear, sir?

GERT. Why, sister, what will you do?

JOYCE. By my maidenhead, an oath which I ne'er took in vain, either go down and comfort him, or I'll call him up and disclose all. What, will you have no mercy, but let a proper man, that might spend the spirit of his youth upon yourself, fall into a consumption? for shame, sister!

GERT. You are the strangest creature--what would you have me do?

JOYCE. Marry, I would have you go to him, take him by the hand, and gripe him; say, You are welcome, I love you with all my heart, you are the man must do the feat; and take him about the neck, and kiss upon the bargain.

GERT. Fie, how you talk! 'tis mere immodesty;
The common'st strumpet would not do so much.

JOYCE. Marry, the better; for such as are honest
Should still do what the common strumpet will not.
Speak, will you do it?

GERT. I'll lose his company for ever first.

JOYCE. Do you hear, sir? here is a gentlewoman would speak with you.

GERT. Why, sister! pray, sister----

JOYCE. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess it.

GERT. Good sister, hold your tongue: I will go down to him.

JOYCE. Do not jest with me; for, by this hand, I'll either get him up, or go down myself, and read the whole history of your love to him.

GERT. If you forbear to call, I will go down.

JOYCE. Let me see your back, then; and hear you, do not use him scurvily: you were best unset all your tyrannical looks, and bid him lovingly welcome, or, as I live, I'll stretch out my voice again. Ud's foot, I must take some pains, I see, or we shall never have this gear cotten;[170] but, to say truth, the fault is in my melancholy monsieur; for if he had but half so much spirit as he has flesh, he might have boarded her by this. But see, yonder she marches; now a passion on his side of half an hour long: his hat is off already, as if he were begging one poor pennyworth of kindness.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_.

GERA. Shall I presume, fair mistress, on your hand to lay my unworthy lip?

JOYCE. Fie upon him! I am ashamed to hear him; you shall have a country fellow at a maypole go better to his work. He had need to be constant, for he is able to spoil as many maids as he shall fall in love withal.

GERT. Sir, you profess love unto me; let me entreat you it may appear but in some small request.

GERA. Let me know it, lady, and I shall soon effect it.

GERT. But for this present to forbear this place, Because my father is expected here.

GERA. I am gone, lady.

JOYCE. Do you hear, sir?

GERA. Did you call?

JOYCE. Look up to the window.

GERA. What say you, gentlewoman?

GERT. Nay, pray sir, go; it is my sister calls to hasten you.

JOYCE. I call to speak with you; pray, stay a little.

GERA. The gentlewoman has something to say to me.

GERT. She has nothing. I do conjure you, as you love me, stay not.

[_Exit_ JOYCE.

GERA. The power of magic cannot fasten me; I am gone.

GERT. Good sir, look back no more, what voice e'er call you.
Imagine going from me, you were coming,
And use the same speed, as you love my safety.
[_Exit_ GERALDINE.
Wild-witted sister, I have prevented you:
I will not have my love yet open'd to him.
By how much longer 'tis, ere it be known,
By so much dearer 'twill be when 'tis purchas'd.
But I must use my strength to stop her journey,
For she will after him: and see, she comes.

_Enter_ JOYCE _below_.

Nay, sister, you are at farthest.

JOYCE. Let me go, you were best;
For if you wrestle with me, I shall throw you.
Passion! come back, fool; lover, turn again,
And kiss your bellyful;
For here she is will stand you, do your worst.
Will you let me go?

GERT. Yes, if you'll stay.

JOYCE. If I stir a foot, hang me; you shall come together yourselves, and be naught. Do what you will; for if e'er I trouble myself again, let me want help in such a case when I need.

GERT. Nay, but prythee, sister, be not angry.

JOYCE. I will be angry. Ud's foot! I cannot endure such foolery, I! Two bashful fools that would couple together, and yet ha' not the faces.

GERT. Nay, prythee, sweet sister!

JOYCE. Come, come, let me go. Birds, that want the use of reason and speech, can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both, cannot conclude in twenty.

GERT. Why, what good would it do you to tell him?

JOYCE. Do not talk to me, for I am deaf to anything you say. Go, weep and cry.

GERT. Nay, but sister---- [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ STAINES _and_ DRAWER _with wine_.

STAINES. Drawer, bid them make haste at home.
Tell them they are coming from church.

DRAWER. I will, sir. [_Exit_ DRAWER.

STAINES. That I should live to be a serving-man! a fellow which scalds his mouth with another man's porridge; brings up meat for other men's bellies, and carries away the bones for his own; changes his clean trencher for a foul one, and is glad of it. And yet did I never live so merry a life when I was my master's master as now I do, being man to my man. And I will stand to't, for all my former speeches, a serving-man lives a better life than his master; and thus I prove it: The saying is, the nearer the bone the sweeter the flesh; then must the serving-man needs eat the sweeter flesh, for he always picks the bones. And again, the proverb says, the deeper the sweeter. There has the serving-man the advantage again, for he drinks still in the bottom of the pot. He fills his belly, and never asks what's to pay; wears broadcloth, and yet dares walk Watling Street,[171] without any fear of his draper. And for his colours, they are according to the season; in the summer, he is apparelled (for the most part) like the heavens, in blue; in winter, like the earth, in frieze.

_Enter_ BUBBLE, SIR LIONEL LONGFIELD, _and_ SPRINKLE.

But see, I am prevented in my encomium. I could have maintained this theme this two hours.

SIR LIONEL. Well, God rest his soul, he is gone, and we must all follow him.

BUB. Ay, ay, he's gone, Sir Lionel, he's gone.

SIR LIONEL. Why, though he be gone, what then? 'Tis not you that can fetch him back again, with all your cunning. It must be your comfort that he died well.

BUB. Truly, and so it is. I would to God I had e'en another uncle that would die no worse; surely I shall weep again, if I should find my handkerchief.

LONG. How now! what are these, onions?

BUB. Ay, ay, Sir Lionel, they are my onions; I thought to have had them roasted this morning for my cold. Gervase, you have not wept to-day; pray, take your onions. Gentlemen, the remembrance of death is sharp, therefore there is a banquet within to sweeten your conceits. I pray, walk in, gentlemen, walk you in; you know I must needs be melancholy, and keep my chamber. Gervase, usher them to the banquet.

STAINES. I shall, sir. Please you, Sir Lionel?

SIR LIONEL. Well, Master Bubble, we'll go in and taste of your
bounty.
In the meantime, you must be of good cheer.

[GENTLEMEN _and_ GERVASE _go out_.

BUB. If grief take not away my stomach, I will have good cheer, I warrant you. Sprinkle!

SPRIN. Sir.

BUB. Had the women puddings to their dole?[172]

SPRIN. Yes, sir.

BUB. And how did they take 'em?

SPRIN. Why, with their hands. How should they take 'em?

BUB. O thou Hercules of ignorance! I mean, how were they satisfied?

SPRIN. By my troth, sir, but so-so; and yet some of them had two.

BUB. O insatiable women, whom two puddings would not satisfy! But vanish, Sprinkle; bid your fellow Gervase come hither.

[_Exit_ SPRINKLE.

And off, my mourning-robes: grief, to the grave,
For I have gold, and therefore will be brave:[173]
In silks I'll rattle it of every colour,
And, when I go by water, scorn a sculler.

_Enter_ STAINES.

In black carnation velvet I will cloak me,
And when men bid God save me, cry, _Tu quoque_.

It is needful a gentleman should speak Latin sometimes, is it not, Gervase?

STAINES. O, very graceful, sir; your most accomplished gentlemen are known by it.

BUB. Why, then will I make use of that little I have upon times and occasions. Here, Gervase, take this bag, and run presently to the mercer's; buy me seven ells of horse-flesh-coloured taffata, nine yards of yellow satin, and eight yards of orange-tawny velvet. Then run to the tailor's, the haberdasher's, the sempster's, the cutler's, the perfumer's, and to all trades whatsoever, that belong to the making up of a gentleman; and, amongst the rest, let not the barber be forgotten: and look that he be an excellent fellow, and one that can snap his fingers with dexterity.[174]

STAINES. I shall fit you, sir.

BUB. Do so, good Gervase: it is time my beard were corrected, for it is grown so saucy, as it begins to play with my nose.

STAINES. Your nose, sir, must endure it; for it is in part the fashion.

BUB. Is it in fashion? why, then my nose shall endure it, let it tickle his worst.

STAINES. Why, now y' are i' the right, sir; if you will be a true gallant, you must bear things resolute. As thus, sir; if you be at an ordinary, and chance to lose your money at play, you must not fret and fume, tear cards, and fling away dice, as your ignorant gamester or country-gentleman does; but you must put on a calm, temperate action, with a kind of careless smile in contempt of fortune, as not being able with all her engines to batter down one piece of your estate, that your means may be thought invincible. Never tell your money: nor what you have won, nor what you have lost. If a question be made, your answer must be: What I have lost, I have lost; what I have won, I have won. A close heart and free hand make a man admired: a testern or a shilling to a servant that brings you a glass of beer, binds his hands to his lips: you shall have more service of him than his master; he will be more humble to you than a cheater before a magistrate.

BUB. Gervase, give me thy hand: I think thou hast more wit than I, that am thy master; and for this speech only I do here create thee my steward. I do long, methinks, to be at an ordinary: to smile at fortune, and to be bountiful. Gervase, about your business, good Gervase, whilst I go and meditate upon a gentleman-like behaviour. I have an excellent gait already, Gervase, have I not?

STAINES. Hercules himself, sir, had never a better gait.

BUB. But despatch, Gervase: the satin and the velvet must be thought upon, and the _Tu quoque_ must not be forgotten; for whensoever I give arms, that shall be my motto. [_Exit_ BUBBLE.

STAINES. What a fortune had I thrown upon me when I preferred myself into this fellow's service! Indeed, I serve myself, and not him; for this gold here is my own, truly purchased: he has credit, and shall run i' th' books for't. I'll carry things so cunningly, that he shall not be able to look into my actions. My mortgage I have already got into my hands: the rent he shall enjoy awhile, till his riot constrain him to sell it; which I will purchase with his own money. I must cheat a little: I have been cheated upon. Therefore I hope the world will a little the better excuse me. What his uncle craftily got from me, I will knavishly recover of him. To come by it, I must vary shapes, and my first shift shall be in satin.

Proteus, propitious be to my disguise,
And I shall prosper in my enterprise. [_Exit._

_Enter_ SPENDALL, PURSENET, _and a_ BOY _with rackets_.

SPEND. A rubber, sirrah.

BOY. You shall, sir.

SPEND. And bid those two men you said would speak with me come in.

BOY. I will, sir. [_Exit_ BOY.

SPEND. Did I not play this set well?

_Enter_ BLANK _and another_.

PURSE. Excellent well: by Phaeton, by Erebus, it went as if it had cut the line.

BLANK. God bless you, sir.

SPEND. Master Blank, welcome.

BLANK. Here's the gentleman's man, sir, has brought the money.

SER. Will't please you tell it, sir?

SPEND. Have you the bond ready, Master Blank?

BLANK. Yes, sir.

SPEND. 'Tis well. Pursenet, help to tell--10, 11, 12.
What time have you given?

BLANK. The thirteenth of the next month.

SPEND. 'Tis well: here's light gold.

SER. 'Twill be the less troublesome to carry.

SPEND. You say well, sir; how much hast thou told?

PURSE. In gold and silver, here is twenty pounds.

BLANK. 'Tis right, Master Spendall, I'll warrant you.

SPEND. I'll take your warrant, sir, and tell no farther.
Come, let me see the condition of this obligation.

PURSE. A man may win from him that cares not for't.
This royal Cæsar doth regard no cash;
Has thrown away as much in ducks and drakes,
As would have bought some 50,000 capons. [_Aside._]

SPEND. 'Tis very well; so lend me your pen.

PURSE. This is the captain of brave citizens;
The Agamemnon of all merry Greeks.
A Stukeley or a Sherley for his spirit,[175]
Bounty and royalty to men-at-arms.

BLANK. You give this as your deed?

SPEND. Marry do I, sir.

BLANK. Pleaseth this gentleman to be a witness?

SPEND. Yes, marry shall he. Pursenet, your hand.

PURSE. My hand is at thy service, noble Brutus.

SPEND. There's for your kindness, Master Blank.

BLANK. I thank you, sir.

SPEND. There's for your pains. [_To_ SERVANT.]

SER. I thank you, sir. [_Exit._]

BLANK. I'll take my leave of you.[176]

SPEND. What, must you be gone too, Master Blank?

BLANK. Yes, indeed, sir; I must to the Exchange. [_Exit._

SPEND. Farewell to both. Pursenet,
Take that twenty pounds, and give it Mistress Sweatman:
Bid her pay her landlord and apothecary,
And let her butcher and her baker stay;
They're honest men, and I'll take order with them.

PURSE. The butcher and the baker then shall stay.

SPEND. They must, till I am somewhat stronger pursed.

PURSE. If this be all, I have my errand perfect.
[_Exit_ PURSENET.

SPEND. Here, sirrah, here's for balls; there's for yourself.

BOY. I thank your worship.

SPEND. Commend me to your mistress. [_Exit._

BOY. I will, sir. In good faith, 'tis the liberall'st gentleman that comes into our court: why, he cares no more for a shilling than I do for a box o' th' ear, God bless him. [_Exit._

_Enter_ STAINES _gallant_, LONGFIELD, _and a_ SERVANT.

STAINES. Sirrah, what o'clock is't?

SER. Past ten, sir.

STAINES. Here will not be a gallant seen this hour.

SER. Within this quarter, sir, and less: they meet here as soon as at any ordinary in th' town.

STAINES. Hast any tobacco?

SER. Yes, sir.

STAINES. Fill.

LONG. Why, thou report'st miracles, things not to be believed: I protest to thee, hadst thou not unripped thyself to me, I should never have known thee.

STAINES. I tell you true, sir; I was so far gone, that desperation knocked at my elbow, and whispered news to me out of Barbary.[177]

LONG. Well, I am glad so good an occasion stay'd thee at home.
And may'st thou prosper in thy project, and go on
With best success of thy invention.

STAINES. False dice say amen; for that's my induction:
I do mean to cheat to-day without respect of persons.
When saw'st thou Will Rash?

LONG. This morning at his chamber; he'll be here.

STAINES. Why, then, do thou give him my name and character, for my aim is wholly at my worshipful master.

LONG. Nay, thou shalt take another into him: one that laughs out his life in this ordinary, thanks any man that wins his money: all the while his money is losing, he swears by the cross of this silver; and, when it is gone, he changeth it to the hilts of his sword.

_Enter_ SCATTERGOOD _and_ NINNIHAMMER.

STAINES. He'll be an excellent coach-horse for my captain.