Chapter V: Act IV: , Scene I

_Enter_ SCUDMORE _and_ NEVILL.

I see great'st spirits[43] can serve to their own ends.
Were you the seeming servingman that pass'd by?

SCUD. By my sad heart, I was; and not a tittle
Of my relation to thee wrong or feign'd.

NEV. In troth you were to blame to venture so.
Mischiefs find us: we need not mischiefs seek.

SCUD. I am not tied to that opinion,[44]
They are like women, which do always shun
Their lovers and pursuers, and do follow
With most rank appetites them that do fly:
All mischief that I had is but one woman,
And that one woman all mischance to me:
Who speaks worst of them, there's[45] the best of men.
They are like shadows: mischiefs are like them.
Death fears me, for in troth I seek him out.
The sun is stale to me; to-morrow morn,
As this, 'twill rise: I see no difference.
The night doth visit me but in one robe,
She brings as many thoughts as she wears stars,
When she is pleasant, but no rest at all.
For what new strange thing should I covet life, then?
Is not she false, whom only I thought true?
Shall time to show his strength make Scudmore live,
Till (perish the vicious thought!) I love not thee,
Or thou, dear friend, remove thy heart from me?

NEV. Time is as weak for that, as he is old.
Take comfort, and attend this counsel, friend:
This match is neither sacred nor [is] sure;
Close fate annihilates what opinion makes,
And since she is resolved this night to die,
If you do not redeem her, give the means,
Or her blood (credit me) will spring heavier griefs.
Sorer and stranger, in thy oppressed heart,
Than her false love before. Besides, 'tis you,
My Scudmore, that are false, if you will not
Consent to let her make vows good, which were
But in a possibility to be broke.
This her repentance casts her vice quite off,
And if you leave her now, you take it on.
Nay, you incur a bloody mortal sin:
You do become an actual murderer.
If you neglect her, she will kill herself
This night by poison, knife, or other means.
God gives you power to cross her desperate will,
And if you save not, where you may, you kill.

SCUD. Why, can my noble and wise friend think still
That what a woman says her heart doth mean?
Can you believe that she will kill herself?
'Tis a full hour, since she spake the word,
And God forbid, that any woman's mind
Should not be chang'd and chang'd in a long hour.
She is by this time in her lordly arms,
And, like pleas'd Juno clasp'd by Jupiter,
Forgets the plaints of poor mortality:
Such state, such pride, as poets show her in,
Incens'd with Jove's loose 'scapes upon the earth,
She cast on me at our encountering.
As cold and heavy as a rock of ice,
In her love to me, which while I there stay'd,
My bitter and hot words resolv'd[46] a little:
Just as the sun doth ice I soften'd her,

And made her drown her fault in her own tears.
But think you she holds this flexible vein?
No, I'm remov'd, and she's congeal'd again.

NEV. How well does Scudmore speak ill for himself!
Wit's a disease that fit employment wants;
Therefore we see those happiest in best parts,
And fortunes under-born unto their merits,[47]
Grow to a sullen envy, hate, and scorn
Of their superiors; and at last, like winds,
Break forth into rebellious civil wars
Or private treasons: none so apt for these
As melancholy wits, fetter'd with need.
How free's the rustic swain from these assaults!
He never feels a passion all his life,
But when he cannot sleep, or hunger gripes;
And though he want reason, wit, art--nay, sense,
Is not so senseless to capitulate,
And ask God why he made not him as great
As that same foolish lord or that rich knave?
His brain with nothing does negotiate,
But his hard husbandry, which makes him live.
But have we worthy gifts, as judgment, learning,
Ingenious sharpness (which wise God indeed
Doth seldom give out of His equal hand,
But join'd with poverty, to make it even
With riches, which he clogs with ignorance),
We vent our blessing in profane conceits,
Foul bawdry, or strong arguments against
Ourselves,[48] and stark blindly hold it best
Rather to lose a soul than lose a jest.

SCUD. Ill terms my friend this wit in any man;
For that, but season'd with discretion,
Holds him in awe of all these blemishes
Frees him of envy, doth philosophise
His spirit, that he makes no difference
'Twixt man and man, 'twixt fortunes high and low,
But as the thicker they with virtues grow.
Freedom and bondage wit can make all one;
So 'twould by being left and being lov'd,
If I had any of it temper'd so.
But you have spoke all this, condemning me
For having wit to speak against myself,
But I'll be rul'd by you in all.

NEV. Then thus.
To-night by promise I do give a masque,
As to congratulate the bridal day,
In which the Count, Pendant, and the wise knight
Will be most worthy dancers: sir, you shall
Learn but my part, which I will teach you too,
As nimbly as the usher did teach me,
And follow my further directions.
Though I, i' th' morn, were [no][49] prodigious wight,
I'll give thee Bellafront in thine arms to-night.

SCUD. I am your property, my enginer.[50]
Prosper your purposes! shine, thou eye of heaven.
And make thy lowering morn a smiling even! [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN POUTS, _with a letter, and_ STRANGE, _like a soldier_.

STRANGE. O, these are Lambeth fields.

CAPT. POUTS. Strange murder'd on the weddingday by you,
At his own bride's appointment, for my sake?

STRANGE. As dead as charity.

CAPT. POUTS. This sounds not well.

STRANGE. 'Zoons! you may say as well I am the man,
As doubt he lives. A plague of your belief!
D'ye know this bloody ruff, which she has sent,
Lest you should be incredulous, and this ring
Which you have seen her wear.

CAPT. POUTS. I know the ring,
And I have seen the ruff about his neck.
This comes of enforc'd marriages. Where was't done?
And how escap'd you?

STRANGE. Sir, receive it briefly.
I am her kinsman, and being newly come
Over, and not intending to stay long,
Took this day to go see my cousin Worldly
(For so my name is), where I found all of them
So deeply drenched in the bridal cup,
That sleep had ta'en possession of their eyes.
Bacchus had given them such an overthrow,
Their bodies lay like slaughtered carcases;
One here, one there, making such antic faces,
As drunkenness had mock'd at drunkenness.
In troth, their postures and their sleep, like death
(For theirs was liker death than sober sleep),
Remember'd me of body-scatter'd fields,
After the bloody battles I have seen.
'Twas such a season, to make short my tale,
As fate had said, "Now murders may be done
And ne'er reveal'd." Approaching further, I
Lighted upon a chamber, where your love
Sat by this merchant, cast drunk on the bed--
She weeping and lamenting her mishap,
Assur'd both, of my daring and my trust,
Fell flat upon the ground, then rais'd herself,
Hung on my neck, then sunk down to my legs,
Told all things pass'd to-day, and never ceas'd,
Till I had ta'en life from that half-dead man
Before, whom straight I strangled with this rope.

CAPT. POUTS. You have show'd some kindness to me:
I must love you, sir. What did you with his body?

STRANGE. Having first,
By her direction, put on these his clothes,
That like the murder'd man the safelier
I might pass with her, being her husband's shape,
If any of the servants had been wak'd,
She show'd me to a necessary vault,
Within a closet in the chamber too,
And there I threw the body.

CAPT. POUTS. Whence this blood?

STRANGE. That she herself first let out of his veins;
Wherein she dipp'd the ruff about his neck,
And said, "Go, bear this ensign of my love,
To assure him what I dar'd for his dear sake."

CAPT. POUTS. Where is the maid?

STRANGE. Captain, a maid for you!
(But well you know, I hope, she is no maid)
But maid or no maid, she is at my mother's,
Whence I will bring her whither you'll appoint
To-night; and let this tide convey all hence,
For staying will be something perilous.

CAPT. POUTS. I will kill two men for you; till then
I owe my life to you, and if ever racks,
Strappadoes, wheel, or any torturous engine,
Even from the Roman yoke to the Scotch boot,[51]
Force me discover you or her to law,
Pray God the merchant may respire again.
But what a villain have I been to wrong her!
Did she not tell you how I injur'd her?

STRANGE. She said you challeng'd her, and publicly
Told you had lain with her; but truth's no wrong.

CAPT. POUTS. Truth! 'twas more false than hell, and you shall see me
(As well as I can repent of any sin)
Ask her forgiveness for wounding of her name,
And 'gainst the world recover her lost fame.
Kind soul! would I could weep to make amends!
Why, I did slander her at the church-door.

STRANGE. The more base villain thou. [_Strike him._

CAPT. POUTS. Ha! what's the news?

STRANGE. Thou unspeakable rascal! thou, a soldier!
A captain of the suburbs, a poor foist,[52]
That with thy slops and cat-a-mountain face,
Thy bladder-chops and thy robustious words,
Fright'st the poor whore, and terribly dost exact
A weekly subsidy, twelvepence apiece,
Whereon thou liv'st; and on my conscience,
Thou snapp'st besides with cheats and cutpurses.

CAPT. POUTS. Heart! this is some railing poet.
Why, you rogue!

STRANGE. Thou rogue--far worse than rogues--thou slanderer!

CAPT. POUTS. Thou worse than slanderous rogues; thou murderer!

STRANGE. 'Tis well-remember'd: I will cut thy throat,
To appease that merchant's soul, which ne'er will rest
Till some revenge be taken on thy tongue.

CAPT. POUTS. I'll kill thee first, and in thy vital flood
Wash my hands clean of that young merchant's blood. [_Fight._

STRANGE. You fight, as if you had fought afore.
I can still hold my sword: come on, sir.

CAPT. POUTS. 'Zoons! can you ward so well? I think you are
One of the noble science of defence.

STRANGE. True, o' th' science of noble defence I am,
That fight in safeguard of a virtuous name.
[_Cadit_ CAPTAIN POUTS.

CAPT. POUTS. O, now I understand you, and you stand over me. My
hurts are not mortal, but you have the better. If your name be
Worldly, be thankful for your fortune.

STRANGE. Give me thy sword, or I will kill thee.

CAPT. POUTS. Some wiser than some! I love my reputation well, yet I
am not so valiant an ass but I love my life better. There's my
sword.

STRANGE. Then get upon my back: come, all shall be well. I'll carry
thee unto a surgeon first, And then unto thy wench. Come, we are
friends.

CAPT. POUTS. God-a-mercy. 'Zoons! methinks I see myself in
Moorfields, upon a wooden leg, begging threepence.[53]

STRANGE. I thank thee, heaven, for my success in this.
To what perfection, is my business grown!
Seldom or never is right overthrown.
[_Exit with_ CAPTAIN POUTS _on his back_.

_Enter_ PENDANT, _and_ MISTRESS WAGTAIL _with work, sewing a purse_.

PEN. They say every woman has a springe to catch a woodcock: remember my instructions, and let me see what a paradise thou canst bring this fool into. Fifteen hundred a year, wench, will make us all merry; but a fool to boot! why, we shall throw the house out at window. Let me see, there are two things in this foolish, transitory world which should be altogether regarded: profit and pleasure, or pleasure and profit--I know not which to place first, for indeed they are twins, and were born together. For profit, this marriage (God speed it!) marries you to it; and for pleasure, if I help you not to that as cheap as any man in England, call me cut.[54] And so remember my instructions, for I'll go fetch Sir Abraham. [_Exit._

WAG. Your instructions! Nay, faith, you shall see I have as fruitful a brain as a belly: you shall hear some additions of my own. My fantasy even kicks like my bastard: well, boy, for I know thou art masculine, neither thy father nor thy mother had any feminine quality but one, and that was to take a good thing when it was proffered. When thou inherit'st land, strange both to thy father and grandfather, and rid'st in a coach, it may be thy father, an old footman, will be running by thy side. But yonder comes the gentle knight and my squire.

_Enter SIR ABRAHAM and PENDANT stealing.[55]_

WAG. Unfortunate damsel! why dost thou love
Where thou hast sworn it never to reveal?
Maybe he would vouchsafe to look on thee.
Because he is a knight, is it thy terror?
Why, peradventure, he is Knighthood's Mirror[56].

PEN. D'ye hear, Sir Abraham?

ABRA. Yes, with standing tears.

WAG. Bevis[57] on Arundel, with Morglay in hand,
Near to my knight in prowess doth not stand.
They say Sir Bevis slew both boar and dragon,
My knight for that can drink up a whole flagon,
A thing as famous now amongst our men,
As killing monsters was accounted then.
'Tis not thy leg, no, were it twice as good,
Throws me into this melancholy mood;
Yet let me say and swear, in a cross-garter
Paul's never show'd to eyes a lovelier quarter.

ABRA. Ay, but all this while she does not name me: she may mean
somebody else.

PEN. Mean somebody else! you shall hear her name you by and by.

WAG. Courteous Sir Abraham.

PEN. La ye there!

WAG. O, thy very name,
Like to a hatchet, cleaves my heart in twain.
When first I saw thee in those little breeches,
I laugh'd for joy, but when I heard thy speeches,
I smil'd downright, for I was almost frantic,
A modern knight should be so like an antic
In words and deeds. Those pinken-eyes[58] of thine,
For I shall ne'er be blest to call them mine----

ABRA. Say not so, sweetheart.

WAG. How they did run, not rheumaticly run,
But round about the room, one over one!
That wide mouth? no, small: no, but middle-size,
That nose dominical, that head, like----wise.

PEN. Very good: d'ye mark that head likewise?

ABRA. She has an excellent wit.

PEN. I'll now into her, sir: observe what follows. Now, turtle, mourning still for the party? for whom are you working that purse?

ABRA. For me, I warrant her. [_Aside._]

WAG. What news, good cousin? I hope you have not revealed my love.

PEN. Yes, faith, I have acquainted the knight with all; and thou may'st be ashamed to abuse a gentleman so slanderously. He swears he ne'er lay with you.

WAG. Lie with me? alas! no, I say not so, nor no man living; but there was one night above the rest, that I dreamt he lay with me; and did you ne'er hear of a child begot in a dream.

ABRA. By this light, that very night I dreamt she lay with me.

[_Aside._]

PEN. Ay, but Sir Abraham is no dreaming knight: in short, he contemns you, he scorns you at his heels.

ABRA. By God, so he lies. I have the most ado to forbear, but that I would hear a little more.

PEN. And has sent this halter. You may hang yourself, or you may cut your throat: here's a knife, too.

WAG. Well, I will love him in despite of all,
Howe'er he uses me! 'tis not the shame
Of being examin'd or the fear of whipping----

PEN. Make as if thou wouldst kill thyself. [_Aside._]

WAG. ----should move me, would but he vouchsafe his love.
Bear him this purse, fill'd with my latest breath. [_Blows in it._
I lov'd thee, Abraham Ninny, even in death. [_Offers to stab._

ABRA. Hold! hold! thy knight commands thee for to hold.
I sent no halter. Poor soul, how it pants!
Take courage, look up.

PEN. Look, Sir Abraham in person comes to see you.

WAG. O, let me die, then, in his worship's arms!

ABRA. Live long and happy to produce thy baby:
I am thy knight, and thou shalt be my lady.
Frown, dad, fret, mother, so my love look cheerly:
Thou hast my heart, and thou hast bought it dearly;
And for your pains, if Abraham live t' inherit,
He will not be unmindful of your merit.
Wear thou this ring, whilst I thy labours task.
This purse wear in my cap, anon i' th' masque[59].

WAG. O happy woman!

ABRA. To supper let's, and merry be as may be.

PEN. Now, God send every wise knight such a lady. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[43] The word _spirit_ in our old poets was often pronounced as one
syllable, and hence, in fact, the corruption _sprite_. This line is
not measure without so reading it.

[44] This is the first line of Scudmore's answer; but in the old copy
that and the eighteen lines following it are given to Nevill.

[45] [Old copy, _then_.]

[46] See note to "Hamlet," act i. sc. 2, for a collection of instances
in which _resolve_ means _dissolve_. Probably the latest example is to
be found in Pope's "Homer"--

"The phantom said, then vanish'd from his sight,
_Resolves_ to air, and mixes with the night."

--"Iliad," b. ii.

In some recent editions it has been thought an improvement to alter
_resolves_ to _dissolves_.

[47] [Old copy, _under-born fortunes under their merits_.]

[48] [Old copy reads--

"Or in strange arguments against ourselves,
Foul bawdry, and stark," &c.]

[49] [Old copy, _a_.]

[50] The old word for engineer: so in Heywood's "Edward IV.,