Chapter XX: Act III: Scene I

_Francisco's house._

_Enter_ FRANCISCO, _half-dressed, in his black doublet and round
cap, the rest rich_; JACOMO _bearing his hat and feather_; ANDREA
_his doublet and band_; RANDOLFO _his cloak and staff_. _They
clothe_ FRANCISCO _whilst_ BIDET _creeps in and observes them.
Much of this done whilst the Act is playing._

_Fra._ For God's sake, remember to take special marks
of me, or you will ne'er be able to know me.

_And._ Why, man?

_Fra._ Why, good faith, I scarce know myself; already
me thinks I should remember to forget myself; now I
am so shining brave. Indeed Francisco was always a
sweet youth, for I am a perfumer; but thus brave! I am
an alien to it. Would you make me like the drown'd
Albano? Must I bear't mainly up? Must I be he?

_Ran._ What else, man? O, what else? 10

_Jaco._ I warrant you, give him but fair rich clothes,
He can be ta'en, reputed anything.
Apparel's grown a god, and goes[467] more neat;
Makes men of rags, which straight he bears aloft,
Like patch'd-up scarecrows to affright the rout
Of the idolatrous vulgar that worship images,
Stand awed and bare-scalp'd at the gloss of silks,
Which, like the glorious A-jax[468] of Lincoln's-Inn
(Survey'd with wonder by me when I lay
Factor in London), laps up naught but filth 20
And excrements, that bear the shape of men,
Whose inside every daw[469] would peck and tear,
But that vain scarecrow clothes entreats forbear.

_Fra._ You would have me take upon me, Albano,
A valiant gallant Venetian burgomasco.
Well my beard, my feather, short sword, and my oath,
Shall do't, fear not. What! I know a number,
By the sole warrant of a lappy beard,
A rain-beat plume, and a good chop-filling oath,
With an odd French shrug, and "by the Lord," or so, 30
Ha' leapt into sweet captain with such ease
As you would--Fear't not. I'll gage my heart I'll do't.
How sits my hat? Ha! Jack, doth my feather wag?

_Jaco._ Methinks now, in the common sense of fashion,
Thou shouldst grow proud, and like a fore-horse view,
None but beforehand gallants; as for sides,
Study a faint salute, give a strange eye;
And those that rank in equal file with thee,
But as to those in rearward, O be blind!
The world wants eyes--it[470] cannot see behind. 40

_Fra._ Where is the strumpet? Where's the hot-vein'd French?
Lives not Albano? Hath Celia so forgot
Albano's love, that she must forthwith wed
A runabout, a skipping Frenchman?

_Jaco._ Now you must grow in heat, and stut.

_Fra._ An odd phantasma--a beggar--a sir--a who,
who, who--What You Will--a straggling go-go-go-gunds--f-f-f-f-fut----

_And._ Passing like him--passing like him. O 'twill
strike all dead! 50

_Ran._ I am ravished! 'Twill be peerless exquisite
Let him go out instantly!

_Jaco._ O, not till twilight; meantime I'll prop up
The tottering rumour of Albano's scape,
And safe arrival; it begins to spread.
If this plot live, Frenchman, thy hopes are dead.

[_Exeunt._

_Bid._ And if it live, strike off this little head.

[_Exit._

[467] Ed. 1. "does."

[468] _A jakes._ The joke (originated by Sir John Harrington) is
very common. Concerning the jakes of Lincoln's Inn, see the
droll, though not very delicate, story in Gayton's _Festivous
Notes on Don Quixote_, 1654, p. 74.

[469] Old eds. "day" (which Dilke retains!).

[470] Ed. 2. "and."

SCENE II.

_A Public Place._

_Enter_ ALBANO _with_ SLIP, _his Page_.

_Alb._ Can it be? Is't possible? Is't within the
bounds of faith? O villainy!

_Slip._ The clapper of rumour strikes on both sides,
ringing out the French knight is in firm possession of
my mistress, your wife.

_Alb._ Is't possible I should be dead so soon
In her affects? How long is't since our shipwrack?

_Slip._ Faith, I have little arithmetic in me, yet I
remember the storm made me cast up perfectly the
whole sum of all I had receiv'd; three days before I
was liquor'd soundly; my guts were rinced 'fore the
heavens. I look as pale ever since, as if I had ta'en the
diet[471] this spring. 13

_Alb._ But how long is't since our shipwrack?

_Slip._ Marry, since we were hung by the heels on the
batch of Sicily, to make a jail-delivery of the sea in our
maws, 'tis just three months. Shall I speak like a
poet?--_thrice hath the horned moon----_

_Alb._ Talk not of horns. O Celia! How oft,
When thou hast laid thy cheek upon my breast, 20
And with lascivious petulancy sued
For hymeneal dalliance, marriage-rites;--
O then, how oft, with passionate protests
And zealous vows, hast thou obliged thy love,
In dateless bands, unto Albano's breast!
Then, did I but mention second marriage,
With what a bitter hate would she inveigh
'Gainst retail'd wedlocks! "O!" would she lisp,
"If you should die,"--then would she slide a tear,
And with a wanton languishment intwist 30
Her hands,--"O God, and you should die! Marry?
Could I love life, my dear Albano dead?
Should any prince possess his widow's bed?"
And now, see, see, I am but rumour'd drown'd.

_Slip._ She'll make you prince;--your worship must be crown'd.
O master, you know the woman is the weaker creature!
She must have a prop. The maid is the brittle metal;
Her head is quickly crack'd. The wife is queasy-stomach'd,
She must be fed with novelties. But, then, what's your widow?
_Custom is a second nature_;--I say no more, but think you
the rest. 40

_Alb._ If love be holy; if that mystery
Of co-united hearts be sacrament;
If the unbounded goodness have infused
A sacred ardour, if a mutual love,
Into our species, of those amorous joys,
Those sweets of life, those comforts even in death,
Spring from a cause above our reason's reach;--
If that clear flame deduce his heat from heaven;--
'Tis like his cause,[472] eternal, always One,
As is th' instiller of divinest love, 50
Unchanged by time, immortal maugre death!
But O, 'tis grown a figment, love a jest,
A comic poesy! The soul of man is rotten,
Even to the core;--no sound affection.
Our love is hollow-vaulted--stands on props
Of circumstance, profit, or ambitious hopes!
The other tissue gown, or chain of pearl,
Makes my coy minx to nuzzel[473] 'twixt the breasts
Of her lull'd husband; t'other carkanet
Deflowers that lady's bed. One hundred more 60
Marries that loathèd blowze;--one ten-pound odds,
In promised jointure, makes the hard-palm'd sire
Enforce his daughter's tender lips to start
At the sharp touch of some loath'd stubbèd beard;
The first pure time, the golden age, is fled.
Heaven knows I lie,--'tis now the age of gold,--
For it all marreth, and even virtue's sold!

_Slip._ Master, will you trust me, and I'll----

_Alb._ Yes, boy, I'll trust thee. Babes and fools I'll trust;
But servants' faith, wives' love, or female's lust,-- 70
A usurer and the devil sooner. Now, were I dead,
Methinks I see a huff-cap swaggering sir
Pawning my plate, my jewels mortgage; nay,
Selling outright[474] the purchase of my brows,
Whilst my poor fatherless, lean, totter'd[475] son--
My gentry's relics, my house's only prop--
Is saw'd asunder, lies forlorn, all bleak
Unto the griefs of sharp necessities,
Whilst his father-in-law, his father-in-devil, or
d-d-d-d-devil-f-f-f-father,
Or who, who, who, who,--What You Will!-- 80
When is the marriage morn?

_Slip._ Even next rising sun.

_Alb._ Good, good, good! Go to my brother Andrea:[476]
Tell him I'll lurk; stay, tell him I'll lurk: stay.--
Now is Albano's marriage-bed new hung
With fresh rich curtains! Now are my valence up,
Emboss'd with orient pearl, my grandsire's gift!
Now are the lawn sheets fumed with violets,[477]
To fresh the pall'd lascivious appetite!
Now work the cooks, the pastry sweats with slaves;
The march-panes[478] glitter: now, now, the musicians 90
Hover with nimble sticks o'er squeaking crowds,[479]
Tickling the dried guts of a mewing cat.
The tailors, starchers, sempsters, butchers, poulterers,
mercers,--all, all, all,--now, now, now,--none think
o' me,--the f-f-f-French is _te f-f-f-fine man, de p-p-p-pock
man, de----_

_Slip._ Peace, peace! stand conceal'd. Yonder, by all
descriptions, is he would be husband of my mistress;--your
wife! hah, meat, hah!

_Alb._ Uds so, so, so soul! that's my velvet cloak! 100

_Slip._ O peace! observe him: ha!

_Enter_ LAVERDURE _and_ BIDET, _talking_; QUADRATUS, LAMPATHO,
SIMPLICIUS, PEDANT, _and_ HOLOFERNES PIPPO.

_Bid._ 'Tis most true, sir. I heard all; I saw all; I
tell all, and I hope you believe all. The sweet Francisco
Soranza, the perfumer, is by your rival Jacomo, and your
two brothers that must be, when you have married your
wife that shall be--

_Ped._ With the grace of Heaven. 107

_Bid._ Disguised so like the drowned Albano, to cross
your suit, that by my little honesty 'twas great consolation
to me to observe them. "Passion of joy, of hope!
O excellent!" cried Andrea. "Passingly!" cried Randolfo.
"Unparallel'd!" lisps Jacomo. "Good, good,
good!" says Andrea. "Now stut," says Jacomo. "Now
stut," says Randolfo; whilst the ravish'd perfumer had
like to have water'd the seams of his breeches for extreme
pride of their applause.

_Lav._ Sest,[480] I'll to Celia, and, maugre the nose of her
friends, wed her, bed her; my first son shall be a captain,
and his name shall be what it please his godfathers;
the second, if he have a face bad enough, a
lawyer; the third, a merchant; and the fourth, if he be
maim'd, dull-brain'd, or hard-shaped, a scholar; for that's
your fashion. 123

_Qua._ Get them; get them, man, first. Now by the
wantonness of the night, and I were a wench, I would
not ha' thee, wert thou an heir, nay (which is more) a fool.

_Lav._ Why, I can rise high: a straight leg, a plump
thigh, a full vein, a round cheek; and, when it pleaseth
the fertility of my chin to be delivered of a beard, 'twill
not wrong my kissing, for my lips are rebels, and stand
out. 131

_Qua._ Ho! but there's an old fusty proverb, these
great talkers are never good doers.

_Lam._ Why, what a babel arrogance is this!
Men will put by the very stock of fate;
They'll thwart the destiny of marriage,
Strive to disturb the sway of Providence:
They'll do it!

_Qua._ Come, you'll be snarling now.

_Lam._ As if we had free-will in supernatural
Effects, and that our love or hate 140
Depended not on causes 'bove the reach
Of human stature.

_Qua._ I think I shall not lend you forty shillings now.

_Lam._ Dirt upon dirt, fear is beneath my shoe.
Dreadless of racks, strappadoes, or the sword--
Maugre informer and sly intelligence,--
I'll stand as confident as Hercules,
And, with a frightless resolution,
Rip up and lance our time's impieties.

_Sim._ Uds so, peace. 150

_Lam._ Open a bounteous ear, for I'll be free:
Ample as Heaven, give my speech more room;
Let me unbrace my breasts, strip up my sleeves,
Stand like an executioner to vice,
To strike his head off with the keener edge
Of my sharp spirit.

_Lav._ Room and good licence: come on! when, when?

_Lam._ Now is my fury mounted. Fix your eyes;
Intend your senses; bend your list'ning up;
For I'll make greatness quake; I'll taw[481] the hide 160
Of thick-skinn'd Hugeness.

_Lav._ 'Tis most gracious; we'll observe thee calmly.

_Qua._ Hang on thy tongue's end. Come on! prithee do.

_Lam._ I'll see you hanged first I thank you, sir, I'll none.
This is the strain that chokes the theatres;
That makes them crack with full-stuff'd audience;
This is your humour only in request,
Forsooth to rail; this brings your ears to bed;
This people gape for; for this some do stare.
This some would hear, to crack the author's neck; 170
This admiration and applause pursues;
Who cannot rail? my humour's changed, 'tis clear:
Pardon, I'll none; I prize my joints more dear.

_Bid._ Master, master, I ha' descried the Perfumer in
Albano's disguise. Look you! look you! Rare sport!
rare sport! 176

_Alb._ I can contain my impatience no longer. You,
Monsieur Cavalier, Saint Dennis,--you, capricious sir,
Signior Caranto French Brawl,[482]--you, that must marry
Celia Galanto,--is Albano drown'd now? Go wander,
avaunt, knight-errant! Celia shall be no cuck-quean,[483]--my
heir no beggar,--my plate no pawn,--my land no
mortgage,--my wealth no food for thy luxuries,--my
house no harbour for thy comrades,--my bed no booty
for thy lusts! My anything shall be thy nothing. Go
hence! pack, pack! avaunt! caper, caper! aloun, aloun!
pass by, pass by! cloak your nose! away! vanish! wander!
depart! slink by! away! 188

_Lav._ Hark you, Perfumer. Tell Jacomo, Randolfo,
and Andrea,[484] 'twill not do;--look you, say no more, but--'twill
not do.

_Alb._ What Perfumer? what Jacomo?

_Qua._ Nay, assure thee, honest Perfumer, good Francisco,
we know all, man. Go home to thy civet box;
look to the profit, commodity, or emolument of thy
musk-cat's tail: go, clap on your round cap--my "what
do you lack," sir,--for i'faith, good rogue, all's descried!

_Alb._ What Perfumer? what musk-cat? what Francisco?
What do you lack? Is't not enough that you kiss'd my
wife? 200

_Lav._ Enough.

_Alb._ Ay, enough! and may be, I fear me, too much;
but you must flout me,--deride me,--scoff me,--keep out,--touch
not my porch;--as for my wife!----

_Lav._ Stir to the door: dare to disturb the match,
And by the----

_Alb._ My sword! menace Albano 'fore his own doors!

_Lav._ No, not Albano, but Francisco: thus, Perfumer,
I'll make you stink if you stir a----For the rest: well,
_via, via!_

[_Exeunt all but_ ALBANO, SLIP, SIMPLICIUS,
_and_ HOLOFERNES.

_Alb._ Jesu, Jesu! what intends this? ha! 211

_Sim._ O God, sir! you lie as open to my understanding
as a courtezan. I know you as well----

_Alb._ Somebody knows me yet: praise Heaven, somebody
knows me yet!

_Sim._ Why, look you, sir: I ha' paid for[485] my knowing
of men and women too, in my days: I know you are
Francisco Soranza, the perfumer; ay, maugre Signor
Satin, ay----

_Alb._ Do not tempt my patience. Go to; do not----

_Sim._ I know you dwell in Saint Mark's Lane, at the
sign of the Musk Cat, as well---- 222

_Alb._ Fool, or mad, or drunk, no more!

_Sim._ I know where you were dressed, where you
were----

_Alb._ Nay, then, take all!--take all! take all!----

[_He bastinadoes_ SIMPLICIUS.

_Sim._ And I tell not my father; if I make you not
lose your office of gutter-master-ship; and you be
scavenger next year, well! Come, Holofernes; come,
good Holofernes; come, servant. 230

[_Exeunt_ SIMPLICIUS _and_ HOLOFERNES.

_Enter_ JACOMO.

_Alb._ Francisco Soranza, and perfumer, and musk-cat,
and gutter-master, hay, hay, hay!--go, go, go!--f-f-f-fut!--I'll
to the Duke; and I'll so ti-ti-ti-tickle them!

_Jaco._ Precious! what means he to go out so soon,
Before the dusk of twilight might deceive
The doubtful priers? What, holla!

_Alb._ Whop! what devil now?

_Jaco._ I'll feign I know him not.--
What business 'fore those doors?

_Alb._ What's that to thee?

_Jaco._ You come to wrong my friend Sir Laverdure. 240
Confess, or----

_Alb._ My sword, boy!--s-s-s-s-soul, my sword!

_Jaco._ O, my dear rogue, thou art a rare dissembler!

_Alb._ See, see!

_Enter_ ANDREA[486] _and_ RANDOLFO.

_Jaco._ Francisco, did I not help to clothe thee even
now? I would ha' sworn thee, Albano, my good sweet
slave.

[_Exit_ JACOMO.

_Alb._ See, see! Jesu, Jesu! Impostors! Coney-catchers!
Sancta Maria! 249

_Ran._ Look you. He walks; he feigns most excellent.

_And._[487] Accost him first as if you were ignorant
Of the deceit.

_Ran._ O, dear Albano! now thrice happy eyes,
To view the hopeless presence of my brother!

_Alb._ Most lovèd kinsman, praise to Heaven, yet
You know Albano. But for yonder slaves--well----

_And._[487] Success could not come on more gracious.

_Alb._ Had not you come, dear brother Andrea,[488]
I think not one would know me. Ulysses' dog
Had quicker sense than my dull countrymen; 260
Why, none had known me.

_Ran._ Doubt you of that? Would I might die,
Had I not known the guile, I would ha' sworn
Thou hadst been Albano, my nimble, coz'ning knave.

_Alb._ Whip, whip! Heaven preserve all! Saint
Mark, Saint Mark!
Brother Andrea,[488] be frantic, prithee be;
Say I am a perfumer--Francisco. Hay, hay!
Is't not some feast-day? You are all rank drunk!
Rats, ra-ra-ra-rats, knights of the be-be-be-bell! be-be-bell!

_And._[487] Go, go! proceed: thou dost it rare. Farewell.

[_Exeunt_ ANDREA[488] _and_ RANDOLFO.

_Alb._ Farewell? Ha! Is't even so? Boy, who am I?

_Slip._ My Lord Albano!

_Alb._ By this breast you lie. 272
The Samian[489] faith is true, true! I was drown'd;
And now my soul is skipp'd into a perfumer,
A gutter-master.

_Slip._ Believe me, sir----

_Alb._ No, no!
I'll believe nothing! no!
The disadvantage of all honest hearts
Is quick credulity. Perfect state-policy
Can cross-bite[490] even sense. The world's turn'd juggler!
Casts mists before our eyes. Hey-pass re-pass![491] 280
I'll credit nothing.

_Slip._ Good sir!

_Alb._ Hence, ass!
Doth not opinion stamp the current pass
Of each man's value, virtue, quality?
Had I engross'd the choice commodities
Of Heaven's traffic, yet reputed vile,
I am a rascal! O, dear unbelief!
How wealthy dost thou make thy owner's wit!
Thou train of knowledge! what a privilege
Thou givest to thy possessor! anchor'st him
From floating with the tide of vulgar faith; 290
From being damn'd with multitude's dear unbelief!
I am a perfumer: ay, think'st thou, my blood,
My brothers know not right Albano yet?
Away! 'tis faithless![492] If Albano's name
Were liable to sense, that I could taste, or touch,
Or see, or feel it, it might 'tice belief;
But since 'tis voice, and air--Come to the Muskcat, boy;
Francisco, that's my name; 'tis right: ay, ay,
What do you lack? what is't you lack? right; that's my cry.

[_Exeunt._

[471] _i.e._, as if I had been treated for the pox.

[472] Ed. 2. "cause's."

[473] Cf. Prologue to _Second Part of Antonio and Mellida_:--
"And _nuzzled 'twixt the breasts_ of happiness."

[474] Ed. 2. "our right."

[475] _i.e._, tatter'd.

[476] Old eds. "Adrian."

[477] Spenser, in his _Epithalamion_, alludes to the practice of
sprinkling the bridal-bed with violets:--
"Now day is doen and night is nighing fast,
Now bring the Bryde into the brydall bowres:
The night is come, now soone her disaray,
And in her bed her lay;
Lay her in lilies and in _violets_,
And silken courteins over her display."

[478] A composition of almonds, sugar, &c.

[479] Fiddles.

[480] Probably a corruption of Fr. _cessez_. Cf. Shakespeare's
perplexing _sessa_.--We have the expression again on p. 402.

[481] Dress leather with alum.

[482] The name of a dance.

[483] She-cuckold.

[484] Old eds. "Adrian."

[485] Ed. 2. "for knowing men."

[486] Old eds. "Adrian."

[487] Old eds. "Adri."

[488] Old eds. "Adrian."

[489] Pythagoras was of Samos.

[490] Cheat.--Marlowe, i. 89.

[491] "Hey-pass re-pass"--a juggler's term.

[492] Ed. 1. "faites."

SCENE III.

_A Tavern._

_Enter_ SLIP _and_ NOOSE; TRIP, _with the truncheon of a staff
torch, and_ DOIT _with a pantofle_;[493] BIDET, HOLOFERNES
_following. The cornets sound._

_Bid._ Proclaim our titles!

_Do._ _Bosphoros Cormelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet!_

_Hol._ I think your majesty's a Welshman; you have a
horrible long name.

_Bid._ Death or silence! Proceed!

_Do._ _Honorificacuminos Bidet, Emperor of Cracks,_[494]
_Prince of Pages, Marquess of Mumchance,_[495] and sole Regent
over a Bale_[496] _of False Dice_: to all his under-ministers
health, crowns, sack, tobacco, and stockings uncrack'd
above the shoe. 10

_Bid._ Ourself will give them their charge. Now let
me stroke my beard, and I had it, and speak wisely, if
I knew how. Most unconscionable, honest little, or little
honest, good subjects, inform our person of your several
qualities, and of the prejudice that is foisted upon you,
that ourself may preview, prevent, and preoccupy the
pestilent[497] dangers incident to all your cases.

_Do._ Here is a petition exhibited of the particular grievances
of each sort of pages. 19

_Bid._ We will vouchsafe, in this our public session, to
peruse them. Pleaseth your excellent wagship to be informed
that the division of pages is tripartite (tripartite),
or threefold: of pages, some be court-pages, others ordinary
gallant pages, and the third apple-squires,[498] basket-bearers,
or pages of the placket: with the last we will
proceed first. Stand forth, page of the placket,[499] what is
your mistress?

_Slip._ A kind of puritan.[500]

_Bid._ How live you? 29

_Slip._ Miserably, complaining to your crack-ship:
though we have light mistresses, we are made the children
and servants of darkness. What profane use we are put
to, all these gallants more feelingly know than we can
lively express; it is to be commiserated, and by your royal
insight only to be prevented, that a male monkey and the
diminutive of a man should be _synonima_, and no sense.
Though we are the dross of your subjects, yet being a
kind of page, let us find your celsitude kind and respective
of our time-fortunes and birth's abuse: and so,
in the name of our whole tribe of empty basket-bearers, I
kiss your little hands. 41

_Bid._ Your case is dangerous, and almost desperate.
Stand forth, ordinary gallant's page: what is the nature
of your master?

_No._ He eats well and right slovenly; and when the
dice favour him, goes in good clothes, and scours his
pink colour silk stockings; when he hath any money, he
bears his crowns; when he hath none, I carry his purse.
He cheats well, swears better, but swaggers in a wanton's
chamber admirably; he loves his boy and the rump of
a cramm'd capon; and this summer hath a passing thrifty
humour to bottle ale; as contemptuous as Lucifer, as
arrogant as ignorance can make him, as libidinous as
Priapus. He keeps me as his adamant, to draw metal
after to his lodging: I curl his perriwig, paint his
cheeks, perfume his breath; I am his froterer[501] or rubber
in a hot-house, the prop of his lies, the bearer of his false
dice; and yet for all this, like the Persian louse, that
eats biting, and biting eats, so I say sighing,[502] and sighing
say, my end is to paste up a _si quis_.[503] My master's fortunes
are forced to cashier me, and so six to one I fall to be a
pippin-squire. _Hic finis Priami!_--this is the end of
pickpockets. 63

_Bid._ Stand forth, court-page: thou lookest pale and wan.

_Trip._ Most ridiculous Emperor.

_Bid._ O, say no more. I know thy miseries;--what
betwixt thy lady, her gentlewoman, and thy master's late
gaming, thou mayest look pale. I know thy miseries, and
I condole thy calamities. Thou art born well, bred ill,
but diest worst of all: thy blood most commonly gentle,
thy youth ordinarily idle, and thy age too often miserable.
When thy first suit is fresh, thy cheeks clear of court-soils,
and thy lord fall'n out with his lady, so long may
be he'll chuck thee under the chin, call thee good pretty
ape, and give thee a scrap from his own trencher; but
after, he never beholds thee but when thou squirest him
with a torch to a wanton's sheets, or lights his tobacco-pipe;
never useth thee but as his pander; never regardeth
thee but as an idle burr that stick'st upon the nap of his
fortune; and so, naked thou camest into the world, and
naked thou must return.--Whom serve you? 81

_Hol._ A fool!

_Bid._ Thou art my happiest subject: the service of a
fool is the only blessed'st slavery that ever put on a
chain and a blue coat; they know not what nor for what
they give, but so they give 'tis good, so it be good they
give; fortunes are ordain'd for fools, as fools are for
fortune, to play withal, not to use: hath he taken an oath
of allegiance--is he of our brotherhood yet?

_Hol._ Not yet, right _venerable Honorificac-cac-cac-cacu-minos
Bidet_! but as little an infant as I am I will, and
with the grace of wit I will deserve it. 92

_Bid._ You must perform a valorous, virtuous, and religious
exploit first, in desert of your order.

_Hol._ What is't?

_Bid._ Cozen thy master; he is a fool, and was created
for men of wit, such as thyself, to make use of.

_Hol._ Such as myself? Nay, faith, for wit, I think,
for my age, or so--But on, sir. 99

_Bid._ That thou mayst the easier purge him of superfluous
blood, I will describe thy master's constitution.
He loves and is beloved of himself, and one more, his
dog. There is a company of unbraced, untruss'd rutters[504]
in the town, that crinkle in the hams, swearing their
flesh is their only living, and when they have any crowns,
cry "God a mercy, Mol!" and shrugging, "let the cock-holds[505]
pay for't;" intimating that their maintenance flows
from the wantonness of merchants' wives, when in troth
the plain troth is, the plain and the stand, or the plain
stand and deliver, delivers them all their living. These
comrades have persuaded thy master that there's no way
to redeem his peach-colour satin suit from pawn but by
the love of a citizen's wife; he believes it: they flout him,
he feeds them; and now 'tis our honest and religious
meditation that he feed us, Holofernes Puppi. 115

_Hol._ Pippo, and shall please you.

_Bid._ Pippo, 'tis our will and pleasure thou suit thyself
like a merchant's wife; leave the managing of the
sequence unto our prudence.

_Hol._ Or unto our Prudence; truly she is a very witty
wench, and hath a stammel[506] petticoat with three guards[507]
for the nonce; but for your merchant's wife, alas! I am
too little, speak too small, go too gingerly: by my troth
I fear I shall look too fair. 124

_Bid._ Our majesty dismounteth, and we put off our
greatness; and now, my little knaves, I am plain Crack.
As I am Bosphoros Carmelydon Honorificacuminos
Bidet, I am imperious, honour sparkles in mine eyes;
but as I am Crack, I will convey,[508] crossbite,[509] and cheat
upon Simplicius. I will feed, satiate, and fill your
paunches; replenish, stuff, or furnish your purses: we
will laugh when others weep--sing when others sigh--feed
when others starve--and be drunk when others are
sober. This is my charge at the loose.[510] As you love
our brotherhood, avoid true speech, square dice, small
liquor, and above all, those two ungentlemanlike protestations
of indeed and verily. And so, 137
Gentle Apollo, touch thy nimble string;
Our scene is done; yet 'fore we cease, we sing.

[_The Song, and exeunt._

[493] Slipper.--It was part of a page's duty to carry the
pantofles of his master or mistress. On entering service he was
said to be "sworn to the pantofle."

[494] _Crack_ was a common term for a pert boy.

[495] A game at cards.

[496] Pair of dice.--It would seem that to cog a die was a
favourite form of roguery among pages. Nashe, in an address to
"the dapper messieurs pages of the court," prefixed to _The
Unfortunate Traveller_ (1594), says:--"Thirdly, it shall be
lawful for any whatsoever to play with false dice in a corner."

[497] So ed. 2.--ed. 1. "pustulent."

[498] Attendant on a lady of pleasure.

[499] Petticoat.

[500] Cant term for a whore.

[501] Cf. _Every Man out of His Humour_, iv. 4:--"Let a man sweat
once a week in a hot-house, and be well rubb'd and _froted_ with
a good plump juicy wench and sweet linen, he shall ne'er ha' the
pox."

[502] Old eds. "sithing and sithing."

[503] _i.e._, an advertisement for a situation: see Nares'
Glossary. The middle aisle of Paul's was the favourite place for
the display of such advertisements.

[504] Properly a German trooper (_reiter_ or _reuter_); but the
term was also applied to a roistering gallant.

[505] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. "cuckolds."

[506] Red.

[507] Facings, trimmings.

[508] Pilfer.

[509] Cozen.

[510] "At the loose"--at my dismissal of you. _Loose_ was a term
in archery for the discharging of an arrow.