Part 4 out of 9
No not by beck or nod; if thou but styer [stir]
To doo unto this howse of sanctity
Damadge or outrage, I will lay thee prostrate
Beneathe these staves and halberts.
_Mild_. Is this lawe?
_Godf_. Yes _Staffords_ lawe.
_Ashb_. Naye, feare not, pretty guerles;
The fryars them selfs, weare they not at theire prayers
Wold have doon more than this in just defens
Of theire immunityes; but in theire absens
I stand for them, nor shall you part from hence
Or dare to sqeelche till they themselves be judge.
Of injurye doone to this sacred place,
Or such as I have sent for make appearance
To clayme what thou unjustly calst thyne owne.
_Godf_. Nay, thou shall stand; wee have too stringes to our Bow.
_Ashb_. If hee but styer then stryke.
_Mild_. This _Stafford_ law,
Which I till nowe heard never nam'd in _France_,
Is for the present a more fearefull coort
Then chancery or star-chamber. I want motion;
You have made [me] a statue, a meere Imadge.
_Godf_. Styer and thou diest: weele maule you.
_Mild_. Iff heare I can have none, lett me depart
To seake elcewhere for justyce.
_Sarl_. Keepe him prisoner,
And sett mee free to finde some advocate
To pleade in his just cause.
_Godf_. Neather styrre
In payne of too _Frensh_ crownes, and they so crack[t]
Never more to passe for currant.
_Ashb_. That presume.
_Mild_. Misery of miseryes! I am bound hand and foote,
And yet boath legges and armes at liberty.
_Godf_. Yes by the lawe cald _Stafforde_.
_Enter Mr. Raphael, Mr. Treadway and the Clowne_.
_Raph_. Durst then the slave use my _Palestra_ thus,
And dragge her by the heyre from sanctuary?
_Clowne_. Most trew, Syr.
_Raph_. Why did'st not kill him?
_Clowne_. If I had had but a swoard I had doon't, but I sought the
villadge through and cold find neare a cutter.
_Raph_. Weare there no skattered stones lye in the streete
To have beate his breynes out?
_Clowne_. Not a stone to throwe att a dogg.
_Raph_. Had'st thou not heeles
_Clowne_. Yes to have kickt him lyke a dogge, but I reserved them to
roon the more nimbly about your busines.
_Pal_. I nowe spye a newe sanctuary, his armes,
In which I may pursue security.
_Raph_. My _Palestra_, art thou safe?
Beefore I give due thankes to this good man,
Which tyme shall paye in all pluralityes,
Oh shewe mee but that monster of mankind
And shame of men on whom to bee revendgd!
_Mild_. The storme at sea was not more terrible
Then this the land now threatens; againe undoone,
Over and over wretched!
_Clowne_. See the limbe
Of his ould syre the Devill.
_Raph_. Perjured slave!
Perfidious, but that I abhore to take
The hangman's office from him, this should open
A doore by which thy black soule should fly out
Unto assured damnation.
_Tread_. Bee more patient;
Proceede with him after a legal course,
And bee not sweyde by fury.
_Raph_. Well advys'd:
What can thy false toonge pleide in thy excuse,
Thou volume of all vyces?
_Mild_. Why, what not?
_Raph_. Is thy hart sear'd, thy browe made impudent,
And all thy malefactions crownd with lyes
Against just testates and apparent truthes?
When I had payde full ransom for this pryze,
Why didst thou beare her hence?
_Mild_. I did not doo't,--
These bee my witnes; have I borne her hence
When I have brought her to thee?
_Raph_. Thy bawdes rhethorick
Shall not excuse thee thus. Frends guarde him safe.
_Clowne_. We will see his fooles coate guarded, ey and reguarded
too from slipping out of our fingers.
_Godf_. Weel finde amongst us more then ... him; fower elbowes
elbowe him off all sydes, gentlemen. It shall appeare beefore hee parts
with us that hee hathe shewed him self no better then a coxcomb.
_Tread_. Beleeve mee nowe, I do not blame my frende
To fishe in trobled streames for such a pearle,
Or digge in black mowled for so ritch a myne;
But to redeeme a chast and inocent sowle
Forthe from the fierye jawes of lust and hell,
Exprest a most comended charitye.
What second bewtyes that ... frend,
That tremblinge flyes from his infectious ills
To patronise her youth and inocence
Beneathe that goode man's goodnes--
_Raph_. Alyke suffers
With her in all distresses, lyke in years,
In vertue, no way differing of our nation;
Who knowes but neare all yee too?
_Tread_. I feele somthinge
Growinge on mee, I know not howe to style,
Pitty or love, synce it hath tast of boathe.
And sinne itt weare such parity in all thinges,
Age, mindes, wrecks, bondadge, pursiutes, injuryes
Shoold nowe bee separate; the one be freede
The t'other left in durance, for the want
And pious tender of so smalle a somme.
I somwhat have in purpose.
_Raph_. Dragge them boathe
Before the magistrate.
_Sarlab_. Mee? wherefore? why?
_Godf_. As his abettor and ill counseller:
One would have burnt the villadge, and the other
Threatned to fyar the cloyster.
_Raph_. Boathe acts capitall
And worthy seveare censure.
_Mild_. Though thou pleedst interest
In waye of earnest in _Palestra_, yet
Robb mee not quite, give me the tother backe,
My only portion left me by the sea
And stock to sett upp trade by.
_Scrib_. Rather torture mee
With any violent deathe.
_Tread_. Leive them in trust
And chardge of this grave reverent gentleman,
Untill you heire the sentence of the coort.
_Ashb_. I willingly accept theire patronadge:
Heere att my howse they shall have meate and harbour.
_Raph_. Nobly spoke:
Meane tyme hale these to'th coort.
_Mild_. My _Palestra_,
What? not one woord of pitye?
_Raph_. Stopp his mouthe.
_Mild_. My _Scribonia_,
Wilt thou intreate them neather?
_Tread_. Tyme's but trifled;
Away with them to justyce!
_Mild_. Take my skinne then,
Synce nothinge else is left mee.
_Clown_. That's rotten allredy and will neather
make goodd leather nor parchement ... theire.
_Ashb_. Com, damsalls, followe mee where I shall leade:
I have a cross wyfe at home I tell you that,
But one that I presume will not bee jealous
Of too such harmeles sowles.
_Pal_. You are to us
A patron and defender.
_Scrib_. Bounde unto you
Not as an host but father.
_Enter the Lord de Averne, his Lady,
Dennis and the waytinge mayde_.
_Lord Av_. Are all thinges redye as I gave in chardge?
_Denys_. Redy, syr.
_Lord Av_. Inoughe; and you deliver'd it
To his owne hands?
_Mayde_. I did.
_Lord Av_. Howe did hee tak't?
_Mayde_. With smiles and seeminge joy.
_Lord Av_. Sorrowe and shame
I feare will bee the sadd end on't.
_Lady Av_. Syr, you'r troubled.
_Lord Av_. I would not have you so; pray, to your rest;
You shall remove mee from all jelosyes
If you betake you to your sowndest sleeps,
And without more inquiry.
_Lady Av_. Syr, remember
That all offences are not woorthy deathe:
Fellowny, murder, treason and such lyke
Of that grosse nature maye be capitall;
Not folly, error, trespasse.
_Lord Av_. You advyse well,
Lett mee advyse you lyke-wyse: instantly
Retyre in to your chamber, without noyse
Reply or question, least part of that rage
Is bent gainst him you turne upon your self,
Which is not for your safety.
_Lady Av_. Syr, good night. [_Exit_.
_Lord Av_. How goes the hower?
_Denis_. Tis almost tenn.
_Lord Av_. The tyme of our appointment: you attend
Upon his knocks and give him free admittans;
Beinge entred, refer him into this place;
That doon, returne then to your Ladye's chamber
There locke your self fast in.
_Mayde_. My lorde, I shall.--
Poore fryare, I feare theyl put thee to thy penance
Before they have confest thee.
_Lord Av_. Come, withdrawe;
The watchwoordes not yet given.
_Enter the Fryar with a letter_.
_Fr. Jhon_. 'Tis her owne pen, I knwe it, synce shee sett
Her hand to establishe our foundation,
And, sweete soule, shee hath writt a second tyme
To build mee upp anewe:--_My Lord is ridd
A three dayes jorney, loose not this advantadge
But take tyme by the fore-topp_. Yes I will
By the fore-topp and topp-gallant. _At the posterne
Shee to whose hand you gave your letter, Fryar,
Attends for your despatch_:--my busines
I hope shalbee despatcht then:--_Fare you well,
Fayle mee this night and ever_. I'l sooner forfett
All pleasures, hopes, preferments, with th'assurance
Of a longe lyfe blest with most happy howers,
Then this one night's contentment.
_Mayde_. Ha, who's theire?
_Fr. Jhon_. The same: you, mystresse _Millisent_
My Ladye's gentlewoman?
_Mayde_. I am the closett
That treasures all her counsells.
_Fr. Jhon_. Is all cleare?
_Mayde_. As such a dark night can bee--to one, I feare,
That scarce will looke on daye more.
_Fr. Jhon_. Where's my lady?
_Mayde_. Attends you in her chamber.
_Fr. Jhon_. Guide mee too't,
Nay, quickly guerle:--how I allredy surfett
In this nights expectation!
_Mayde_. Staye you heare
In this withdraweinge roome, I'l fetch a light
For safeguard of your shinnes.
_Denis_. Shee might have sayde
For safeguard of his necke.
_Mayde_. My sceane's doone;
The next act lyes amongst them. [_Exit_.
_Fr. Jhon_. My part dothe but beginne nowe and I'l act it
In exquisite cleane linnen; and this capp
Proffred of purpose, least I should smell fryar.
What differ wee i'th darke, save our shaven crowne,
From gentlemen, nay Lords? nature hath araied us
As well as the best layemen: why should lawe
Restreyne from us what is allowed to them?
Lett it curbe fooles and idiots, such as throughe folly
Will not, or nycenes dare not, tast what's sweete,
Alyke made for all pallats.
_Lord Av_. Howe the slave
Insults in his damnation! cease the wretch,
I can indure no lonnger.
_Fr. Jhon_. Such as ban
Proffred delights may, if they please, refuse;
What's borne with mee I will make bold to use.
_Lord Av_. And I what thou weart borne too, that's a halter.
Pull without feare or mercy, strangle him
With all his sinnes about him; t'were not else
A revendge worthe my fury.
_Dennis_. I dare nowe
Lodge him a whole night by my syster's syde,
Hee's nowe past strompetting.
_Lord Av_. Tis night with him,
A longe and lastinge night.
_Denis_. Hee lyes as quiet.
You did well, Fryare, to putt on your cleane linnen;
Twill serve you as a shrowde for a new grave.
Whither shall wee lyft his body?
_Lord Av_. I am on the suddeine
Growne full of thoughts; the horror of the fact
Breedes strange seditions in mee.
_Denis_. Hee perhapps
But counterfetts dead sleep. I'l hollowe to him
To see if I can wake him.
_Lord Av_. Trifle not;
The sinne will proove more serious. To a conscience
Startled with blood and murder, what a terror
Is in the deede, being doone, which bredd before
Boathe a delight and longing! This sadd spectacle
Howe itt affrights mee!
_Denis_. Letts remove itt then.
_Lord Av_. The sinne it self, the churches malediction,
As doone to one of a sequestred lyfe
And holly order, the lawes penalty,
Being duble forfeture of lyfe and state,
Reproach, shame, infamy, all these incur'd
Through my inconsiderate rashnes!
_Denis_. My lyfe, too.
Howe to prevent the danger of all these?
_Lord Av_. Ey, that will aske much breyne, much project.
Shall we poppe him in som privy?
_Lord Av_. Duble injurye,
To praye upon the soule and after deathe
Doo to the body such discoortesy;
It neather savours of a generous spyritt
Nor that which wee call manly.
For a quiett lyfe, but this same wryneckt deathe,
That which still spoyles all drinkinge, 'tis a thinge
I never coold indure; as you are noble
Keepe still my wind pype open.
_Lord Av_. Out of many
Museings for boath our safetyes I have fownd
One that's above the rest most probable.
_Denis_. What, what, I praye, Syr?
_Lord Av_. Interupt mee not:
Staye I should nowe begett a stratagem
To save myne owne lyfe, myne estate and goodds,
Ey, and secure thee too.
_Denis_. 'Twere excellent, Syr.
_Lord Av_. I have project for all these, as willingly
To lengthen boathe our lyves, and limitt us
Tyme to repent his deathe.
_Denis_. But howe, I praye, Syr?
_Lord Av_. Ey, there's the difficulty; but nowe I hav't.
Betwixt us and the cloyster's but one wall,
And that of no greate height; coold wee in private
Conveighe this fryar into the monastery,
It might be then imadgind som of them
Might bee his deathe's-man; which might seeme more probable
Bycause, as I had late intelligens,
There hathe bin stryfe amongst them.
_Denis_. Better still.
_Lord Av_. Now howe can wee incurr the least suspect?
For what should hee doo from the fryary,
Or what seeke heere att this unseasoned hower?
_Denis_. I apprehende thee; and, to further this,
In the backe yard there is a ladder, Syr:
Mount him upon my back, and I'l conveighe him
Where som, not wee, shall answer for his death.
_Lord Av_. As desperate wounds still must have desperate cure,
So all rash mischeiffes shuld have suddeine shiftes.
Wee'I putt it to ye venter.
_Denis_. Mount him then;
I'l once trye if the ventur of a ladder
Can keepe mee from the halter.
Explicit Actus 3.
_Enter the Clowne_.
_Clowne_. I have left a full coort behynde mee, _Mildewe_ pleidinge of
the one syde, my mayster on the other, and the lawyers fendinge and
prooveinge on boathe; there's such yeallinge and ballinge, I know not
whether it made any deafe to heare it, but I am suer I was almost sicke
to see't. Whyle they are brablinge in the cittye I am sent backe to the
villadge to cheire up the too younge mermaydes; for synce theire
throates have bin rincht with salt water they singe with no lesse
sweatenes. But staye; I spy a fisherman drawinge his nett upp to the
shore; I'l slacke som of my speede to see how hee hathe spedd since the
_Enter the Fisherman_.
_Fisher_. I see hee that nought venters nothinge gaynes;
Hee that will bee awake when others sleepe
May sometymes purchase what may give him rest,
When other loyterers shalbe forct to ryse
Or perish through meare want; as, for example,
Although the tempest frighted hence the fishe,
I have drag'd some thinge without finne or skale
May make mee a good markett. Lett mee better
Surveigh my pryze; 'tis of good weight I feele;
Now should it bee some treasure I weare mayde.
_Clowne_. Which if it proove I'l half marr you or be half made with you.
_Fisher_. It must be gold by th'weight.
_Clowne_. If it bee so heavy 'tis ten to one but I'l do you the curtesye
to ease you of part of your burden.
_Fisher_. None save myself is guilty of this pryze;
'Tis all myne owne, and I'l bee thinke mee best
Howe to beestowe of this ritche magazin.
_Clowne_. And I am stooddiinge too with what lyne, what angle, what
fisguigge what castinge nett I cann share with you in this sea
_Fisher_. I will dissemble, as most ritche men doo,
Pleade poverty and speake my mayster fayre;
By out my freedom for som little somme,
And, beeinge myne owne man, by lands and howses;
That doon, to sea I'l rigge shipps of myne owne,
And synce the sea hathe made mee upp a stocke
I'l venter it to sea; who knowes but I
In tyme may prove a noble marchant?
_Clowne_. Yes of eele skinnes.--Staye you, Syrra, ho!
_Fisher_. I knowe no fish of that name; limpet, mullet, conger, dolphin,
sharke I knowe, and place; I woold som body else had thyne; for hearinge
I woold thou hadst none, nor codd; for smelt thou art too hott in my
nose allredy; but such a fishe cald Syrra never came within the compasse
of my nett. What art thou, a shrimpe, a dogg fish or a poore Jhon?
_Clowne_. I am one that watcht the tyde to know what thou hast
caught, and have mony in my pockett to by thy draught.
_Fisher_. And I am one thou seest that have only an empty wett nett,
but not so much as the tale of a spratte at thys tyme to sell for love
_Clowne_. I grant this is no Fryday and I at this tyme no cater for the
fishmarkett. I only cam to desyre thy judgement and counsell.
_Fisher_. Go to the bench for judgment and to the lawe courts for
counsell, I am free of neather, only one of _Neptunes_ poore bastards,
a spawne of the sea, and nowe gladly desyres to be rydd of thee aland.
_Clowne_. Onely one question resolve mee, and I have doone.
_Fisher_. To bee well ridd of the I care not if I loose so much tyme.
_Clowne_. But feythefully.
_Fisher_. As I am honest peeterman.
_Clowne_. Observe mee then:
I saw a theif, comitting fellony;
I know the mayster of the thing was stolne,
I com unto this theif, as't might bee thee,
And make this covenant; eather give mee half
And make mee sharer or thou forfettest all,
I'l peach thee to the owner; in this case
What may I justly claime?
_Fisher_. Rather than forfeit all I shoold yeild halfe.
_Clowne_. Knwe then 'tis thy case, and my case a most playne case, and
concernes the booty in that cap-case. I knowe the lord that wants
it and the mayster that owes it; boath howe it was lost and where
it was lost. Com, unloose, unbuckle, unclaspe, uncase, lett's see then
what fortune hathe sente us, and so part it equally beetwixt us.
_Fisher_. Staye, staye, my frend this my case must not be opend till
your case bee better lookt into. Thou knowest who lost it, I who fownd
it; thou the lord of it that was, I the owner that nowe is; thou who
did possess it, I who doth injoye it; hee had it, I have it; hee might
have kept it, I will keepe it; I venter'd for all, I will inherit all;
and theres thy pittifull case layde open.
_Clowne_. First proove this to bee thyne.
_Fisher_. I can and by the fisherman's rethorick.
_Clowne_. Proceed sea-gull.
_Fisher_. Thus land-spaniell; no man can say this is my fishe till hee
finde it in his nett.
_Fisher_. What I catche is myne owne, my lands my goodds my copy-hold,
my fee-simple, myne to sell, myne to give, myne to lend, and myne to
cast away; no man claimes part, no man share, synce fishinge is free
and the sea common.
_Clowne_. If all bee common that the sea yeelds why then is not
that as much mine as thyne?
_Fisher_. By that lawe, when wee bringe our fishe to the markett, if
every one may freely chuse what hee lykes and take where hee lyst, wee
shoold have quikly empty dorsers and cleane stalls, but light
_Clowne_. How can'st thou proove that to bee a fishe that was not bredd
in the water, that coold never swimme, that hathe neather roe nor milt,
scale nor finne, lyfe nor motion? Did ever man heare of a fishe cald a
budgett? What shape, what collor?
_Fisher_. This shape, this collor, there's nowe within better then the
spawne of sturgeon; I must confesse indeed, they are rarely seene, and
seldom fownd; for this is the fyrst I ever catcht in all the tyme of my
_Clowne_. All this sea-sophestry will not serve your turne, for where
my right is deteind mee by fayre meanes I will have it by force.
_Fisher_. Of what I caught in the sea?
_Clowne_. Yes, and what I catch hold on ashore. With what consciens
can'st thou denye mee part of the gaine, when the owner heareinge it is
in thy custody and within my knowledge, must eather find mee a principall
in the theft, or at least accessary to the fellony.
_Fisher_. I'l showe thee a redy waye to prevent boathe.
_Clowne_. How's that?
_Fisher_. Marry, thus: go thou quietly thy way, I'l go peacably myne;
betraye thou mee to nobody, as I meane to impart to thee nothinge;
seeke thy preferment by land as I have doone myne by sea; bee thou mute,
I'l be dumbe; thou silent, I mumbudgett; thou dismisse mee, I'l acquitte
thee; so thou art neather theife nor accessary.
_Clowne_. Syrrah, though you bee owner of the boate I'l steare my course
_Fisher_. Hands off, I saye. But hark a noyse within
Letts cease our controversy till wee see [_Noyse_.
An end of that.
_Clowne_. Trew, and bee judg'd by the next quiet man wee meete.
_Enter after a noyse or tumult, Ashburne, his wyfe,
Palestra, Scribonia and Godfrey_.
_Woman_. I'l not beleeve a sillable thou speak'st;
False harts and false toonges go together still,
They boathe are quick in thee.
_Ashb_. Have patience woman.
_Woman_. I have ben too longe a grizell. Not content
To have thy hawnts abroad, where there are marts
And places of lewd brothelry inoughe
Wheare thou maiest wast thy body, purse and creditt,
But thou wooldst make thy private howse a stewes!
_Ashb_. But heare me, wyfe.
_Wom_. I'l heare none but myselfe.
Are your legges growne so feeble on the suddeine
They feyle when you shoold travell to your whores,
But you must bringe them home and keepe them heere
Under my nose? I am not so past my sences
But at this age can smell your knavery.
_Pal_. Good woman, heare's none suche.
_Woman_. Bold baggadge, peace!
'Tis not your turne to prate yet; lust and impudens
I know still goe togeather. Shewes it well
In one thats of thy yeares and gravity,
That ought to bee in lyfe and government
To others an example, nowe to doate
So neere the grave! to walke before his dooer
With a younge payer of strumpetts at his tale!
Naye, make his honest and chast wyfe no better
Then a madam makarell!
_Godfr_. Why, this stormes woorse then that until'd the howse!
_Ashb_. But understand mee:
Itt is meare pitty and no bad intent,
No unchast thought but my meare charity
In the remembrans of our longe lost child,
To showe som love to these distressed maydens.
_Woman_. Sweete charity! nay, usury withall!
For one chyld lost, whose goodnes might have blest
And bin an honor to our family,
To bringe mee home a cuple of loose thinges!
I know not what to terme them, but for thee,
Owld fornicator, that jad'st mee at home
And yet can fend [?] a yonge colt's toothe abroad,
Ould as I am myne eyes are not so dimme
But can discerne this without spectacles.
Hence from my gate, you syrens com from sea,
Or as I lyve I'l washe your painteinges off
And with hotte skaldeinge water instantly.
_Godfr_. Nay then, sweeteharts, you canott staye, you have had could
_Pal_. The land's to us as dreadfull as the seas,
For wee are heare, as by the billows, tost
From one feare to another.
_Ashb_. Pretty sowles,
Despyer not you of comfort; I'l not leive you
To the least danger till som newes returne
From him that undertakes your patronadge.
You, syrrah, usher them into the fryary,
Whence none dares force them. I have a cross wyfe you see,
And better you then I take sanctuary.
_Scrib_. Wee will be sweyde by you as one in whome
Wee yet have fownd all goodnes.
_Ashb_. Leive them theere
To safety, then returne.
[_Ex't. ma: Ashb_.
_Clown_. What say'st thou to this gentleman?
_Fisher_. No man better.--Now it will go on my syde; this is my owne
master, sure hee cannot bee so unatrall to give sentens against his
owne natural servant.--Syr, good daye.
_Ashb_. Gramercyes, I in truth much suffered for thee,
Knowing howe rashly thou exposd thyself
To such a turbulent sea.
_Clown_. I likewyse, Syr, salute you.
_Ashb_. Thanks, good frend.
_Clown_. But, syr, is this your servant.
_Ashb_. Yes, I acknowledge him;
And thou I thinke belongst to Mr _Raphael_,
Imployde about these women.
_Clown_. Yes I acknowledge it; but you are sure hee's yours?
_Ashb_. Once againe I doo confesse him myne.
_Clown_. Then heare mee speake.
_Fisher_. Heare mee your servant.
_Ashb_. I'l heare the stranger fyrst.
_Clown_. In this you doo but justyce, I pray tell mee ... Sea, is
this a fishe or no, or if a fishe what fishe do you call it (peace you).
_Ashb_. It is no fishe nor fleshe.
_Clowne_. Nor good redd herringe--fisherman, y'r gone.
_Fisher_. Thou art deceav'd I am heare still, and may have heare for
ought I knowe to by all the redd herringe in _Marcell[es]_.
_Clowne_. Did you ever heare of a fishe cal'd a budgett?
_Ashb_. I protest never synce I knew the sea.
_Clowne_. You are gone againe fisherman.
_Fisher_. I am heare still; and now, master, heare mee.
_Clowne_. Lett mee proceede. This bagge, this knapsacke, or this
portmanteau hee woold make a fishe bycause tooke in his nett. Nowe,
syr, I com to you with this ould proverbe, all's not fishe that com's
to nett.--There you are, gone againe.
_Clowne_. No butt, nor turbutt. I suspect this budgett to be the
bawde's, in which are the discoveryes of this yonge woman's coontry
and parents. Now, syr, for their sakes, for my masters sake, for all
our sakes use the authority of a mayster to searche, and showe the
power you have over a servant to comand.
_Ashb_. Will hee or not, hee shall assent to that.
_Clowne_. A meere trick to undoo mee, ere I knwe
What I am wanting.
_Ashb_. Call in the damseles,
Intreate them fayrely heather; say wee hope
We shall have good newes for them.
_Fisher_. I will part with it only on this condition, that if there
bee nothinge in it which concernes them, the rest may returne to mee
unrifled and untutcht.
_Ashb_. Did it conteyne the valew of a myne
I clayme no part in it.
_Fisher_. Nor you?
_Clowne_. Nor I.
_Fisher_. By the contents of this budgett.
_Clowne_. I sweare.
_Ashb_. I vowe.
_Fisher_. Then there tak't to you, mayster, and once more
Good lucke on my syde!
_Enter Godfrey, usheringe in Palestra and Scribonia_.
_Palest_, You sent to speake with us?
_Ashb_. I did indeed,
Saye, knowe you this? y'have leave, surveigh it well.
_Pal_. This? knowe I this? oh, my _Scribonia_, see!
Yes, and by this alone may knowe myself.
Looke well upon't, deare syster; extasy
May dimme myne eyes, it cannot purblind thyne.
_Scrib_. Itt is the same, _Palestra_.
_Fisher_. Then sure I shall not bee the same man in the afternoone
that I was in the morninge.
_Scrib_. In this is a greate masse of wealthe included,
All that the bawde hath by corruption gott
In many a thrifty yeare.
_Fisher_. Comfort for mee.
_Ashb_. But tell me is there ought of yours included,
Which you may justly chalendge?
_Pal_. Of that gould
No not the valewe of one poor deneere:
'Tis all base brokadge boathe of sinne and shame
Of which wee neare weare guilty; yet inclosed
There shall you find a cabinet of myne,
Where boathe my naturall parents you may see
In a small roome intended.
_Fisher_. An unatrall child thou art to trust thy naturall parents
into a leatheren bagge and leave them in the bottom of y'e sea.
_Pal_. Showe mee the caskett: if before you ope it
I do not name you every parcell in't
Lett it no more bee myne, mak't your own pryse;
But such small trifles as I justly chalenge
And cannot yeeld you the least benefitt,
Of them let mee bee mystresse, synce they are
The somme and crowne of all my future hopes,
But from my tender infancy deteined.
As for the gould and Jewells mak't your spoyle;
Of that I clayme no portione.
_Fisher_. I accept of the condition.
_Ashb_. Itt is boathe just and honest; we'll have no juggling,
And, _Gripus_, synce the busines concernes you,
Have you a curious ey too't.
_Fisher_. Feare not mee, for boathe at sea and land I was ever a goodd
_Ashb_. The caskett is nowe open'd: what coms fyrste?
_Pal_. Above, the clothes in which I fyrst was swathde,
The linnen fyrst worne in myne infancy.
_Ashb_. These are child's swathinges; whether thyne or no
It is to mee uncertaine. To the rest.
_Pal_. And next to these is a ritche handkercher,
Where you shall find in golden letters wrought
My place of byrthe, myne and my father's name.
_Ashb_. Heare's such a handkercher, such letters workt:
Speake them, as I shall reade them.
_Ashb_. Right! _Myrable_.
_Pal. Daughter of Jhon Ashburne, merchant_.
_Ashb_. Trewe: of _Jhon Ashburne_ merchant--Oh my sowle!
--Proceed, prithee proceede.
_Pal. And borne in Christ-chyrch, London, Anno_--
Oh you Imortall powers. I stagger yet
Beetwixt despayer and hope, and canott guesse
Which weye my fate will swaye mee; oh speake, speake!
Thy mothers name?
_Pal_. Reade it in sylver letters pleynly wrought
In the next Imbrodered Linnen.
_Ashb_. If that fayle not
I have a firme rock to build upon.--
_The guift of Isabell to her daughter Mirable_.--
Oh frend, oh servant!
_Clown_. How is't, syr?
_Fisher_. How now, mayster?
_Ashb_. I that so many yeares have been despoyl'd,
Neclected, shattered, am made upp againe,
Repaired, and new created.
_Pal_. Search but further
And there's a golden brooch in it, a diamond,
Upon my byrthday geven mee by my father.
_Ashb_. I have longe sought and nowe at lengthe have found
That diamond, thee my doughter.
_Pal_. How, syr?
_Ashb_. Shee that so late excluded thee my house
And shutt these gates against thee, _Isabell_
Thy mother, these weare her owne handyworkes
Bestowde upon thee in thyne infancy
To make us nowe boathe happy in thy yoouth.
I am _Jhon Ashburne_ marchant, _London, Christ Church_;
The yeare, place, tyme agree thee to bee myne,
Oh merher [mirror] of thy sex, my _Myrable_!
_Pal_. This surplusadge of joy should not bee forged.
_Ashb_. No more than these noates are infalleble.
_Pal_. Thus then in all Humility I kneele
To you my acknowledgd father.
_Ashb_. Ryse, my guerle.
_Fisher_. Had I not drawne this leeward out of the sea, where had it
bin? all drownd by this.
_Ashb_. No triflinge nowe: post, _Godfrey_, to my wyfe,
Tell her no more then thou hast heard and seene:
Shee's hard of faythe, relate it punctually,
Beare her (oh lett me borrowe them so longe)
These better to confirme her; bid her hast,
And for the truth add these as testimony:--
Nay, art thou heare still?
_Godf_. Lyke a shadowe vanisht,
But to returne a substance. [_Exit Godfrey_.
_Ashb_. Oh my deare doughter!--where's young _Raphael's_ man
Beare him of all what thou hast seene a perfect
And trew relation.
_Clowne_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. Bidd him too,
All business sett apart, make hether.
_Clown_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. Tell him that his _Palestra_ is my _Mirable_.
_Clown_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. And that shee is my doughter, my lost child.
_Clowne_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. And that of all this I am most assur'd.
_Clown_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. Thou wilt not doo all this?
_Clown_. I will, you lye, syr.
_Ashb_. Howe, syr.
_Cl_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. Saye that this daye shee shalbee made his wyfe.
_Cl_. Ay, syr.
_Ashb_. Why then add winges unto your heeles and fly, syr.
_Cl_. Ay syr, but ere I take my flight, for this good servyce
You'll mediate with him for my freedom?
_Cl_. And woo your doughter to doo so too?
_Cl_. And, syr, to him I shalbee thankefull.
_Cl_. Your doughters and your servant ever.
_Cl_. To go, roonne, ryde of all your arrants.
_Cl_. In all this you'l bee slack in nothinge?
_Cl_. And you'l heareafter love mee still?
_Ashb_. So, so.
_Cl_. Howe, but so, so?
_Ashb_. Yes, so and so and so.
_Cl_. Why, then I go, go, goe. [_Exit Clown_.
_Ashb_. But one thinge I intreate you, _Mirable_:
This thyrteene yeares, since by rude creditors
Tost and opprest, nay rent out of myne owne,
I have bin forct to seeke my fate abroad,
Howe weare you ravisht thence, or since that tyme
What strange adventures past?
_Enter Godfrey, and the wyfe with the handkercher_.
_Mirable_. My mother's presence
Must now prevent my answer.
_Wyfe_. Where is shee? oh wheare, wheare? for by these tokens,
These of her childhood most unfallid signes,
I knwe her for my doughter.
_Mir_. I have bene
The longe and wretched owner of that cabinet
With all therein contein'd.
_Wyfe_. Into thy boosom
Oh lett mee rayne a shower of joyfull teares
To welcom thee, my _Mirable_.
_Godf_. You threatned her but nowe with skaldinge water; mee thinks you
had more neede to comfort her with hott waters, for sure shee canott bee
warme synce shee came so late out of the could bathe.
_Wyf_. Make fyares, bid them make ready wholesom brothes,
Make warme the bedd, and see the sheetes well ayred.
Att length then have I fownd thee?
_Ashb_. But what's shee
That's in thy fellow-shippe?
_Mir_. My fellowe sharer
In all misfortunes; and for many yeares
So deere to mee, I canot tast a blessednes
Of which shee's not partaker.
_Wyfe_. For thy sake
Shee shall bee myne too, and (in her) I'l thinke
The powers above have for my single losse
Given mee at lengthe a duble recompense.
_Scrib_. For which hee that protects all inocence
Will in good tyme reward you.
_Wyfe_. Praye, in, in;
This could is prejuditiall to your Healthes.
I'l count you boathe my twinnes.
[_Ext. Wife, Palestra, and Scribonia_.
_Ashb_. Strange alteration!
Skoldinge is turn'd to pittye, spleen and mallyce
To mercye and compassion.
_Fisher_. But your promisse
Tutchinge my budgett?
_Ashb. Godfreye_, beare it in
And lodge it safe; there's no tyme for that;
We'll talke of it herafter.
_Godf_. Fellow _Gripus_, I am made for this tyme porter. Ladeys, your
[_Ext. Ashbourne and Godfrey_.
_Gripus_. These are the fishermen and I the fishe catcht in the nett;
well my comfort is, thoughe my booty have made me no ritcher then I was,
poorer then I am I canott bee. Nowe wherein is the ritche more
happy then the poore? I thinke rather lesse blessed and that shall
approue by this excellent good ballet, thoughe sett to a scurvy tune.
Lett ech man speake as he's possest
I hold the poore man's state most blest.
For if longe lyfe contentment bredes,
In that the poore the ritche exceedes;
The ritch man's dayes are short, as spent
In pleasures and supposed content;
Whylst to us poore men care and troble
Makes every hower wee wast seeme duble.
He that hathe ech daye to his backe
Chandge of gaye suites, whylst wee alacke
Have but one coate, that coorse and ould,
Yet it defends us from the could;
As warme too in an equll eye
As they in all theere purple dye;
'Mongst all theere store, they weare, we see,
But one at once, and so do wee.
The ritche that at his table feasts
With choyse of dayntyes, sundry guests,
In all his plenty can but fill
One belly; so the poore can still
With cheese and onions and disguest
As well with them as th'others feast.
The pesent with his homespoon lasse
As many merry howers may passe
As coortiers with there sattin guerles,
Though ritchly dect in gould and pearles;
And, though but pleyne, to purpose wooe,
Nay ofttymes with lesse danger too.
And yet for all this I have one crotchett left in my fate to bate a
new hooke for the gold in the portmanteau.
_Enter Dennis with the Fryar from aboue upon his backe_.
_Den_. Whether a knavishe or a sinneful load,
Or one or bothe I know not; massye it is,
And if no frend will for mee, I'l bee sorry
For myne owne heavinesse. And heare's a place,
Though neather of the secretest nor the best,
To unlade myself of this Iniquity.
When I satt late astryde upon the wall,
To lyft the ladder this waye for descent,
Mee thought the fryar lookt lyke S _George_ a horsback
And I his trusty steede. But nowes no triflynge:
Hee's where hee is in Comons, wee discharged,
Boathe of suspect and murther; which lett the covent
To-morrowe morninge answere howe they cann.
I'I backe the waye wee came; what's doon, none sawe
I'th howse nor herde; they answer then the Lawyer.
_Enter Fryar Richard_.
_Fr. R_. Of all Infirmityes belonginge to us
I hould those woorst that will not lett a man
Rest in his bedd a-nights. And I of that,
By reason of a late could I have gott,
Am at this instant guilty; which this rushinge
From a warme bedd in these wild frosty nights
Rather augments then helpes; but all necessityes
Must bee obeyde. But soft, there's one before mee:
By this small glimpse of moone light I perceave him
To bee Fryar _Jhon_, my antient adversary.
Why _Jhon_? why _Jhon_? what! not speake! why, then
I see 'tis doon of malyce, and of purpose
Only to shame mee, since hee knowes the rest
Take notyce what a loose man I am growne.
Nay prithee, sweete fryar _Jhon_, I am in hast,
Horrible hast; doo but release mee nowe,
I am thy frend for ever. What! not heare!
Feigne to bee deaf of purpose, and of slight!
Then heare is that shall rouse you. Are you falne?
[_Eather strykes him with a staffe or casts a stone_.
What, and still mute and sylent? nay, not styrr?
I'l rowse you with a vengance! not one limbe
To doo his woonted offyce, foot nor hand?
Not a pulse beatinge, no breathe? what no motion?
Oh mee of all men lyvinge most accurst!
I have doon a fearefull murder, which our former
Inveterate hate will be a thousand testats
That I for that insidiated his lyfe.
The deedes apparant and the offens past pardon.
There's nowe no waye but fly: but fly! which way?
The cloyster gates are all bar'd and fast lockt;
These suddeine mischieffes shuld have suddeine shifts.
About it breyne and in good tyme. I hate!
Suspitious rumors have bene lately spread
And more then whispered of th'incontinent love
Fryar _Jhon_ boare to the knight's Lady. Had I meanes
Howe to conveighe his body o'er the wall
To any or the least part of the howse,
It might bee thought the knight in jelosy
Had doone this murder in a just revendge.
Let me surveighe th'ascent: happy occation!
To see howe redy still the devill is
To helpe his servants! heare's a ladder left:
Upp, Fryare, my purpose is to admitt you nowe
Of a newe cloyster. I will sett his body
Upright in the knights porche and leave my patron
To answer for the falt, that hath more strength
Then I to tugge with Benches.
[_Exit. Carry him up_.
_Enter the knight, half unredy, his Lady after him_.
_D'Avern_. Ho, _Denis_!
_Lady_. Give mee reason, I intreate,
Of these unquiet sleepes.
_D'Av_. You dogg mee, Lady,
Lyke an Ill genius.
_Lady_. You weare woont to call mee
Your better angel.
_D'Av_. So I shall doo still,
Would you beetake you to your quiet sleepes
And leave mee to my wakinges.
_Lady_. There beelonges
Unto one bedd so sweete a sympathy,
I canott rest without you.
_D'Av_. To your chamber!
There may growe els a woorse antypathy
Beetwixt your love and myne: I tell you, Lady,
Myne is no woman's busines. No reply:
Your least insured presence att this tyme
Will but begett what you would loathe to beare,
Quarrell and harshe unkindnes.
_Lady_. Ever your lipps
Have bene too mee a lawe.--I suspect more
Then I would apprehend with willingnes;
But though prevention canott helpe what's past,
Conjugall faythe may expresse itself at last.
_D'Av_. Why, _Denis_, ho! awake and ryse in hast!
_Denis_. What, is your Lordshipp madd!
_D'Av_. Knowest thou what's past
And canst thou skape this danger?
_Denis_. Did I not tell you
That all was safe, the body too disposed
Better then in his grave?
_D'Av_. Strange thoughts sollicite mee.
Upp and inquire about the cloyster wall
What noyse thou hearest, if any private whisperinge
Or louder uprore 'bout the murder ryse.
_Denis_. I shall, I shall, Syr. [_Exit Dennis_.
_D'Av_. Guilt, thoughe it weare a smooth and peacefull face,
Yet is within full of seditious thoughts
That makes continuall follie. [_Exit_.
_Enter Fryar Richard with Fryar Jhon upon his backe_.
_Fr. Rich_. This is the porch that leades into the hall;
Heare rest for thyne and myne own better ease.
This havinge done, to prevent deathe and shame
By the same stepps I'l back the way I came.
[_Fryer sett up and left. Exit_.
_Enter Denis half unredy_.
_Denis_. This is the penalty belonges to servyce:
Masters still plott to theire owne private ends,
And wee that are theire slaves and ministers
Are cheef still in the troble; they ingrosse
The pleasure and the proffitt, and wee only
The swett and payne. My Lord hath doon a mischeef
And nowe I must not sleepe.--What art thou?
None of the howse sure, I should knwe thy face then:
Beesydes my Lord gives no such lyverye.
Nowe in the name of heaven, what art thou? speake,
Speake if thou beest a man! or if a ghost
Then glyde hence lyke a shadowe! tis the--oh!--
The fryar hathe nimbly skipt back over the wall,
Hath lyke a surly Justyce bensht himself
And sitts heare to accuse uss! where's my Lord?
Helpe, Helpe! his murdered ghost is com from Hell
On earth to cry _Vindicta_!
_Enter L. D'Averne_.
_D'Av_. What clamors this?
_Denis_. Oh Syr--
_D'Av_. Why, howe is't, _Denis_?
_Denis_. Never woorse--the fryar, Syr--
_D'Av_. What of him?
_Denis_. The slave that would not leive the place but carried,
Is of himself com back.
_Denis_. Looke theere.
_D'Av_. That which I took to bee meare fantasy
I finde nowe to bee real; murder is
A cryinge sinne, and canot be conceal'd.
Yet his returne is straunge.
_Denis_, 'Tis most prodigious;
The very thought of it hath put a cricke
Into my necke allredy.
_D'Av_. One further desperate tryall I will make
And putt it too adventer.
_Denis_. Pray hows that, Syr?
_D'Av_. There's in my stable an ould stallion, once
A lusty horse but now past servyce.
_Denis_. Godd [_sic_], syr.
_D'Av_. Him I'l have sadled and capparisond.
Heare in the hall a rusty Armor hanges,
Pistolls in rotten cases, an ould sword,
And a cast lance to all these sutable.
I'l have them instantly tooke downe.
_Den_. And then?
_D'Av_. In these I'l arme the fryar from head to knee;
Mount him into his saddle, with stronge cords
There bind him fast, and to his gauntlet hand
Fasten his lance; for basses tis no matter,
These his grey skyrts will serve. Thus arm'd, thus mounted,
And thus accoutred, with his beiver upp,
Turne him out of the gates, neither attended
With squire or page, lyke a stronge knight adventures
To seeke a desperate fortune.
_Denis_. Hee may so if hee please
Ryde post unto the Devill.
_D'Av_. This I'l see doone,
'Tis a decree determinde.
_Denis_. Capp a pe
I'l see him arm'd and mounted.
_Enter Fryar Richard_.
_Fr. R_. This murder canott bee so smothered upp
But I in th'end shall paye for't; but feare still
Is wittye in prevention. Nowe for instance
There's but one refuge left mee, that's to flye:
The gates are shutt upon mee and myself
Am a badd foottman, yet these difficultyes
I can thus helpe; there to this place beelonges
A mare that every second d[a]yes' imployde
To carry corne and fetch meele from the mill,
Distant som half league off; I by this beast
Will fashion myne escape.--What, baker, ho!
_Within Baker_. What's hee that calls so early?
_Fr. R_. I, Fryar _Richard_.
_Baker_. What would you have that you are stirringe thus
An hower before the Dawne.
_Fr. Rich_. I cannott sleepe
And understandinge there's meale redy ground,
Which thou must fetch this morninge from the mill,
I'l save thee so much pey[n]es. Lend mee the beast,
And lett mee forthe the gate; I'l bringe boathe back
Ere the bell ringe for mattens.
_Baker_. Marry, Fryar _Richard_,
With all my hart, and thanke yee. I'l but ryse
And halter her, then lett you forthe the gate;
You'l save mee so much labour.
_Fr. Rich_. This falls out
As I coold wishe, and in a fortunate hower;
For better then to too legges trust to fower.
_Explicit Actus 4_.
_Enter Thomas Ashburne the younger brother to John,
a merchant, with one of the Factors_.
_Thomas_. Are all things safe abord?
_Factor_. As you can wish, sir;
And notwithstandinge this combustious stryfe
Betwixt the winds and Seas, our ship still tight,
No anchor, cable, tackle, sayle or mast
Lost, though much daunger'd; all our damadge is
That where our puerpose was for _Italy_
We are driven into _Marcellis_.
_Thomas_. That's myne unhappines
That beinge come upon a brother's quest
Longe absent from his country, who of late
After confinement, penury, distresse
Hath gained a hopefull fortune, and I travelling
To beare him tydeinges of a blest estate
Am in my voyage thwarted.
_Factor_. In what province
Resydes hee at this present?
_Thomas_. His last letters
That I receav'd weare dated from _Leagahorne_;
Nowe wee by this infortnate storme are driven
Into _Marcellis_ roads.
_Factor_. For the small tyme
Of our abode heare what intend you, Sir?
_Thomas_. To take in victuall and refresh our men,
Provyde us of thinges needefull, then once more
With all the expeditious hast wee can
Sett sayle for _Florens_.
_Factor_. Please you, Sir,
I'l steward well that busines.
_Thomas_. I'th meanetyme
I shall find leisure to surveigh the towne,
The keyes, the temples, forts and monuments;
For what's the end of travell but to better us
In judgment and experiens? What are these?
Withdrawe and give them streete-roome.
_Enter Raphael, Treadeway and the Clowne_.
_Raph_. Hath my _Palestra_ fownd her parents then?
_Clowne_. As sure as I had lost you.
_Raph_. And free borne?
_Clowne_. As any in _Marcellis_.
_Raph_. _Englishe_, sayst thou?
_Clowne_. Or _Brittishe_, which you please.
_Raph_. Her trew name _Mirable_
And _Ashburne's_ doughter?
_Clowne_. Suer as yours is _Raphaels_
And _Tread-wayes_ his.
_Thomas_. _Mirable_ and _Ashburne_!
_Factor_. Names that concerne you, Sir.
_Thomas_. Peace, listen further.
_Raph_. Thou with these woords hast extasyde my sowle
And I am all in rapture. Then hee's pleasd
Wee too shalbee contracted?
_Clowne_. 'Tis his mynd, Sir.
_Raph_. The moother, too, consents?
_Clowne_. So you shall finde, Sir.
_Raph_. And _Mirable_ pleasd, too?
_Clowne_. Shes so inclind, Sir.
_Raph_. And this the very day?
_Clowne_. The tyme assignd, Sir.
_Raph_. Shee shalbee suerly myne.
_Clowne_. As vowes can bind, Sir.
_Raph_. Thou sawest all this?
_Clowne_. I am suer I was not blind, Sir.
_Raph_. And all this shall bee done?
_Clown_. Before you have din'd, Sir.
_Raph_. Oh, frend, eather pertake with mee in Joy
And beare part of this surplus, I shall else
Dye in a pleasinge surfett.
_Tread_. Frend, I doo
Withall intreate you interceade for mee
To your fayre loves companion, for if all
Th'estate I have in _France_ can by her freedom,
Shee shall no longer faynt beneathe the yoake
Of lewdnes and temptation.
_Raph_. The extent
Of that fyxt love I ever vowde to thee
Thou in this act shall find.
_Tread_. And it shall seale it,
Beyond all date or limitt.
_Raph_. Come, hasten, frend, methinks at lengthe I spy
After rough tempests a more open skye.
[_Exeunt Raphael and Treadway_.
_Clowne_. And I will after you home, Syr,
Since so merrily blowes the wind, Sir.
_Thomas_. Staye, frend, I am a stranger in these parts
And woold in one thinge gladly bee resolved.
_Clowne_. I am in haste.
_Thomas_. That little leasure thou bestowest on mee
I shalbee gladd to pay for; nay, I will.
Drinke that for my sake.
_Clowne_. Not this, Syr, as it is; for I can make a shifte to dissolve
hard mettall into a more liquid substance. A cardeq! oh Syr, I can
distill this into a quintessence cal'd _Argentum potabile_.
_Thomas_. I heard you name one _Ashburne_; can you bring mee
To th'sight of such a man?
_Clowne_. Easily I can, Syr. But for another peice of the same stampe,
I can bringe you to heare him, to feele him, to smell, to tast him, and
to feede upon him your whole fyve senses.
_Thomas_. There's for thee, though I have no hope at all
To finde in _France_ what I in _Florens_ seeke.
And though my brother have no child alyve,
As longe synce lost when I was rob'd of myne,
Yet for the namesake, to my other travells
I'l add this little toyle, though purposeles.
I have about mee letters of Import
Dyrected to a merchant of that name
For whose sake (beeinge one to mee intyred)
I only crave to see the gentleman.
_Clowne_. Beleeve mee Syr I never love to jest, with those that
beforehand deale with me in earnest. Will you follow mee?
_Thomas_. Prooves hee my brother, and his dowghter found,
Lost by my want of care, (which canott bee
All reasons well considered) and I so happy
To bringe him newes of a recovered state,
Who to his foes so longe hathe been a prey,
I'd count my monthes and years but from this day.
_Enter at one door D'Averne, and Dennis with the Fryar armed.
At the other Fryar Richard and the Baker_.
_D'Averne_. So nowe all's fitt, the daylight's not yet broake;
Mount him and lock him in the saddle fast,
Then turn him forthe the gates.
_Dennis_. Pray, Syr, your hand to rayse him.
_D'Av_. Nowe lett him post, whether his fate shall guide him.
_Ent. Rich. and Baker_.
_Baker_. The mare's ready.
_Fr. R_. Only the key to ope the cloyster gate,
Then all is as it shoold be.
_Baker_. Tak't, there tis.
But make hast, good Fryar _Richard_; you will else
Have no new bredd to dinner.
_Fr. R_. Feare not, baker;
I'l proove her mettall. Thus I back one mare
Least I shoold ryde another. [_Exit_.
_Baker_. It is the kindest novyce of my consciens
That ere woare hood or coole.
[_A noyse within. Trampling of Horses_.
What noyse is that? now by the Abbot's leave
I will looke out and see.
_Enter Averne and Dennis_.
_D'Av_. Howe nowe? the newes?
The cause of that strange uprore?
_Den_. Strange indeed,
But what th'event will bee, I cannott guesse.
_D'Av_. Howe is it, speake.
_Den_. I had no sooner, as your Lordshipp badd,
Putt him upon his voyadge, turn'd him out,
But the ould resty stallion snuft and neighd,
And smelt, I thinke, som mare, backt (I perceavd
By the moone light) by a Fryar, in whose pursuite
Our new made horseman with his threatninge lance,
Pistolles, and rotten armor made such noyse
That th'other, frighted, clamours throughe the streetes
Nothinge but deathe and murder.
_D'Av_. But the sequell?--
The clamour still increasethe. [_Noyse_.
_Enter the Baker rooninge_.
_Baker_. Oh never, never,
Was seene such open mallyce!
_Den_. What's the busines?
_Baker_. Give mee but leave to breath--Oh especially in a cloyster!
_Den_. Out wee't, man.
_Baker_. The novyce _Richard_, to save mee a labour,
Borrowed my mare to fetch meale for the mill.
I knowe not howe the devill Fryar _Jhon_ knew't,
But all in armor watch't him gooinge out
And after spurrs to chardge him, beeinge unarmd,
0 suer if hee cannott reatch him with his lance
Hee'l speede him with his pistolls.
_Denis_. All's well yet.
_Baker_. This noyse hath cal'd much people from there bedds,
And troobled the whole villadge.
_Fr. R_. (_within_). Hold, hold, I do confesse the murder.
_Baker_. Suer hee hath slayne him, for murder is confest.
_D'Av_. Tis better still.
_Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, &c_.
_Godf_. Was never knowne the lyke!
_Baker_. Is _Ritchard_ slayne?
I sawe Fryar _Jhon_, arm'd dreadfully with weapons
Not to be worne in peace, pursue his lyfe;
All which I'l tell the abbott.
_Ashb_. Most strange it is that the pursude is fownd
To bee the murderer, the pursuer slayne.
Howe was it, _Godfrey_? thou wast upp beefore mee
And canst discoorse it best.
_Godfr_. Thus, Syr: at noyse of murder, with the tramplinge
Of horse and ratlinge armor in the streetes,
The villadgers weare wakend from there sleepes;
Som gap't out of there windowes, others venter'd
Out of theere doores; amongst which I was one
That was the foremost, and saw _Ritchard_ stopt
At a turninge lane, then overtooke by _Jhon_;
Who not him self alone, but even his horse
Backing the tother's beast, seemd with his feete
To pawe him from his saddle; att this assault
Friar _Richard_ cryes, hold, hold and haunt mee not
For I confesse the murder! folke came in
Fownd th'one i'th sadle dead, the t'other sprallinge
Upon the earthe alyve, still cryinge out
That hee had doun the murder.
_D'Av_. Exellent still; withdrawe, for wee are saffe.
_Enter the Abbott, the baker, Fryar Richard, prisoner
and guarded, &c_.--
_Abbott_. These mischeefes I foretould; what's mallyce elsse
Than murder halff comitted? though th'event
Bee allmost above apprehension strange,
Yet synce thyne owne confession pleades thee guilty
Thou shalt have leagall tryall.
_Fr. Rich_. I confess
I was the malefactor and deserve
Th'extremity of Lawe; but woonder much
Howe hee in such a short tyme after death
Should purchase horse and weapons.
_Abbot_. Murder's a sinne
Which often is myraculously reveal'd.
Lett justyce question that; beare him to prison,
The t'other to his grave.
_Baker_. Beeinge so valiant after deathe mee thinkes hee deserves the
honor to bee buried lyke a knight in his compleate armor.
_Abbot_. These thinges shoold not bee trifled. Honest frendes,
Retyre you to your homes; these are our chardge.
Wee will acquaint our patron with this sadd
And dyre desaster; fyrst his counsell use,
Next as wee maye our Innocens excuse.
SCENA 3, ET ULTIMA.
_Enter Mildewe and Sarleboyes_.
_Mild_. May the disease of _Naples_ now turn'd _Frensh_
Take bothe the Judge and Jurors! they have doomd
The fayre _Palestra_ from mee.
_Sarl_. So they had
_Scribonia_ too, and mulcted us beesydes,
But that in part they did comiserate
Our so greate losse by sea.
_Mild_. This is the curse
Belonges to all us bawdes: gentle and noble,
Even th'ouldest fornicator, will in private
Make happy use of us with hugges and brybes;
But let them take us at the publick bench,
Gainst consciens they will spitt at us and doome us
Unto the post and cart. Oh the coruptnes
Of these dissemblinge letchers!
_Sarlab_. 'Tis well yet
You have reserved one virgin left for sale;
Of her make your best proffitt.
_Mild_. A small stocke
To rayse a second fortune; yet com, frend,
Wee will go seeke her out.
_Enter Gripus the Fisherman_.
_Fisher_. No budgett to bee com by; my ould mayster,
Hee stands on consciens to deliver it
To the trew owner, but I thinke in consciens
To cheate mee and to keepe it to him selfe;
Which hee shall never doo, to prevent which
I'l openly proclayme it.
If any userer or base exacter,
Any noble marchant or marchant's factor,
Bee't marchant venterer or marchant Taylor
Bee hee Mr. Pilot, botswyne or saylor--
_Enter Godfrey to them_.
_Godf_. Hist, _Gripus_, hyst!
_Fish_. Peace, fellowe _Godfrey_. I'l now play the blabber.--
If eather passinger owner or swabber
That in the sea hathe lost a leather budgett
And to the Dolphins, whales or sharkes, doth grudge itt--
_Godf_. Wilt thou betraye all? I'I go tell my mayster.
_Fish_. Yes, _Godfrey_, goe and tell him all and spare not,
I am growne desperate; if thou dost I care not.
_Mild_. Hee talkt of a leatheren budgett lost at sea;
More of that newes would please mee.
_Fish_. Bee hee a Cristian or beleeve in _Mawmett_
I such a one this night tooke in my drawnett.
_Mild_. My soone, my child, nay rather, thou young man,
I'l take thee for my father, for in this
Sure thou hast new begott mee.
_Fish_. Blessing on thee!
But shoold I have a thousand children more,
I almost durst presume I never should have
Another more hard favored.
_Mild_. Thou art any thinge.
But hast thou such a budgett?
_Fisher_. Syr, I have
And new tooke from the sea. What woldst thou give
And have it safe?
_Mild_. I'l give a hundred crownes.
_Fish_. Tush, offer me a sowse but not in th'eare;
I will barr that afore hand.
_Mild_. And all safe,
I'l give thee then too hondred.
_Fish_. Offer me a cardeq!
_Mild_. Three hondred, 4, nay fyve
So nothinge bee diminisht.
_Fish_. I will have
A thousand crowns or nothinge.
_Mild_. That growes deepe.
_Fish_. Not so deepe as the sea was.
_Mild_. Make all safe,
And I will give a thousand.
_Fish_. Tis a match,
But thou wilt sweare to this.
_Mild_. Give mee myne othe.
_Fish_. If, when first I shall beehold
My leatheren bagge that's stuft with gould,
At sight thereof I paye not downe
To _Gripus_ every promist crowne--
Now say after mee.
May _Mildewe_ I in my best age.
_Mild_. May _Mildewe_ I in my best age.
_Fish_. Dy in some spittle, stocks or cage.
_Mild_. Dy in some spittle stocks or cage.
_Fish_. I'l keepe my promisse, fayle not thou thine oathe.
So inn and tell my mayster. [_Exit Fisherman_.
_Mild_. Yes, bawdes keepe oaths! t'must bee in leap-yeare then,
Not now; what wee sweare weel forsweare agen.
_Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, and Gripus, to 'em_.
_Ashb_. And hee in that did well, for Heaven defend
I shoold inritche mee with what's none of myne.
Where is the man that claymes it?
_Grip_. Heare's my sworne soon, that but even now acknowledgd mee to
bee his father.
_Ashb_. Knowest thou this?
_Mild_. Yes for myne owne. I had thought, lyke one forlorne,
All fortune had forsooke mee, but I see
My best dayes are to com. Welcom my lyfe!
Nay if there bee in any bawde a sowle
This nowe hath mett the body.
_Ashb_. All's theire safe
Unrifled, naye untutcht, save a small caskett
With som few trifles of no valewe in't,
Yet to mee pretious, synce by them I have fownd
My one and only doughter.
_Mild_. Howes that, pray?
_Ashb_. Thus; thy _Palestra_ is my _Mirable_.
_Mild_. Now may you to your comfort keepe the guerle,
Synce of my wealthe I am once againe possest.
I heare acquitt you of all chardges past
Due for her education.
_Ashb_. You speake well.
_Grip_. It seemes you are possest, and this your owne.
_Mild_. Which I'l knowe howe I part with.
_Grip_. Com quickly and untrusse.
_Mild_. Untrusse, Syr? what?
_Grip_. Nay if you stand on poynts, my crowns, my crowns:
Com tell them out, a thousand.
_Mild_. Thousand deathes
I will indure fyrst! synce I neather owe thee
Nor will I paye thee any thinge.
_Grip_. Didst thou not sweare?
_Mild_. I did, and will againe
If it bee to my profit, but oathes made
Unto our hurt wee are not bound to keepe.
_Ashb_. What's that you chalendge, _Gripus_.
_Grip_. Not a sowse lesse
Then a full thousand crownes.
_Ashb_. On what condition?
_Grip_. So much hee vowed and swore to paye mee downe
At sight of this his budgett; a deneere
I will not bate; downe with my dust, thou perjurer.
_Ashb_. But did hee sweare?
_Mild_. Suppose it, saye I did.
_Ashb_. Then thus I saye, oathes ta'ne advisedly
Ought to bee kept; and this I'l see performed,
What's forfett to my man is due to mee;
I claime it as my right; these your bawdes fallacyes
In this shall no weye helpe you, you shall answer it
Now as a subject and beefore the judge.
_Mild_. If I appeare in coort I am lost againe;
Better to part with that then hazard all.
These bagges conteine fyve hundred pownds apeece,
Tak't and the pox to boot.
_Grip_. And all these myne?
_Godf_. Would I might have a share in't.
_Ashb_. Nowe tell mee, _Mildewe_, howe thou ratest the freedome
Of th'other virgin yonge _Scribonia_,
Companion with my dowghter?
_Mild_. I am weary
Of this lewde trade; give mee fyve hundred crownes
And take her; I'l gie't over now in tyme
Ere it bringe mee to the gallowes.
_Ashb_. There's for her ransom; she's from henceforthe free.
_Grip_. Howe, Syr?
_Ashb_. These other, _Gripus_, still belonge to thee
Towards the manumission.
_Enter at one doore Palestra, Scribonia; at the other
Raphael, Treadway, Thomas Ashburne and the Clowne_.
_Raph_. If all bee trewe my man related to mee
I have no end of Joy.
_Ash_. This is my _Mirable_,
My doughter and freeborne; and if you still
Persist the same man you profest your self,
Beehold shee is your wyfe.
_Raph_. You crowne my hopes.
_Mir_. This very day hathe made mee full amends
For many yeares of crosses.