men, And you may fear it will do me, my lord; But ere it do so, I will undergo Ten thousand several deaths. Count. I know it, man. Who wouldst thou have, I prithee? If your good lordship grant me your consent. Count. Rachel de Prie what the poor beggar's daughter? [ever, She's a right handsome maid, how poor soAnd thou hast my consent with all my heart. Chr. I humbly thank your honour; I'll now ask Enter Onion, Juniper, Valentine, Sebastian, Balthasar, Martino. Oui. Come on, i'faith, let's to some exercise or other, my hearts. Fetch the hilts; fellow Juniper, wilt thou play? [Exit Martino. Junip. I cannot resolve you; 'tis as I am fitted with the ingenuity, quantity, or quality of the cudgel. Val. How dost thou bastinado the poor cudgel with terms ! Junip. O Ingle, I have the phrases, man, and the anagrams, and the epitaphs, fitting the mystery of the noble science. Oni. I'll be hang'd an' he were not misbegotten of some fencer. Seb. Sirrahı, Valentine, you can resolve me now, have they their masters of defence in other countries, as we have here in Italy? Val. O lord, I; especially they in Utopia: there they perform their prizes and challenges with as great ceremony as the Italian, or any nation else. Balt. Indeed! how is the manner of it, for god's love, good Valentine? Junip. Ingle, I prithee make recourse unto us; we are thy friends and familiars, sweet Ingle. Fal. Why thus, sir. Oni. God a mercy, good Valentine; nay, go on. Junip. Silentium bonus socius Onionus, good fellow Onion, be not so ingenious and turbulent. So, sir; and how? how, sweet Ingle? Val. Marry, first they are brought to the public theatre. Junip. What! ha' they theatres there? Val. Theatres! I, and plays too, both tragedy and comedy, and set forth with as much state as can be imagined. Junip. By god's so, a man is nobody till he has travell'd. Seb. And how are their plays? as ours are extemporal? Val. O no; all premeditated things, and some of them very good, i' faith; my master used to visit them often when he was there. Balt. Why how, are they in a place where any man may see them? Val. I, in the common theatres, I tell you. But the sport is at a new play, to observe the sway and variety of opinion that passeth it. A man shall have such a confus'd mixture of judgment, pour'd out in the throng there, as ridiculous as laughter itself. One says he likes not the writing, another likes not the plot, another not the playing and sometimes a fellow, that comes not there past once in five years, at a parliament time, or so, will be as deep mired in censuring as the best, and swear by god's foot he would never stir his foot to see a hundred such as that is. Oni. I must travel to see these things, I shall never think well of myself else. Junip. Fellow Onion, I'll bear thy charges, and thou wilt but pilgrimize it along with me to the land of Utopia. Seb. Why but methinks such rooks as these should be ashamed to judge. Val. Not a whit; the rankest stinkard of them all will take upon him as peremptory, as if he had writ himself in artibus magister. Seb. And do they stand to a popular censure for any thing they present? Val. I, ever, ever; and the people generally are very acceptive, and apt to applaud any meritable work; but there are two sorts of persons that most commonly are infectious to a whole auditory. Balt. What be they? Junip. I, come, let's know them. Oni. It were good they were noted. Val. Marry, one is the rude barbarous crew, a people that have no brains, and yet grounded judgments; these will hiss any thing that mounts above their grounded capacities; but the other are worth the observation, i' faith. Omnes. Where be they? where be they? Val. Faith, a few capricious gallants. Junip. Capricious! stay, that word's for me. Val. And they have taken such a habit of dislike in all things, that they will approve nothing, be it never so conceited or elaborate; but sit dispersed, making faces and spitting, wagging their upright ears, and cry, filthy, filthy; simply uttering their own condition, and using their wryed countenances instead of a vice, to turn the good aspects of all that shall sit near them, from what they behold. Enter Martino with cudgels. Oni. O that's well said; lay them down; come, sirs, [thasar? Who plays, fellow Juniper, Sebastian, BalSomebody take them up, come. Junip. Ingle, Valentine? Val. Not I, sir, I profess it not. Junip. Sebastian. Seb. Balthasar. 2 Balt. Why here's Martino. Oni. Foh, he alas he cannot play s whit, man. Junip. That's all one; no more could you in statu quo prius. Martino, play with him; every man has his beginning and conduction. Mart. Wil you not hurt me, fello Onion? Oni. Hurt thee? no; and I do, put me among pot-herbs, And chop me to pieces. Come on. Junip. By your favour, sweet bullies, gire them room, back, so. [ter. Martino, do not look so thin upon the mat Oni. Ha! well play'd, fall over to my leg now: so, to your guard again: excel lent! to my head now: make home you blow: spare not me, make it home, good, good again. Seb. Why how now, Peter! Val. Godso, Onion has caught a bruise. Junip. Couragio! be not capricious; what! Oni. Capricious! not I, I scorn to be c pricious for a scratch, Martino must have another bout; come. Fal. Seb. Balt. No, no, play no men, play no more. Ŏni. Foh, 'tis nothing, a fillip, a devise; ! fellow Juniper, prithee get me a plantan; I had rather play with one that had skill by half. Mart. By my troth, fellow Onion, 'twas against my will. Oni. Nay, that's not so, 'twas against my But come, we'll ha' one bout more. Thou openedst thy dagger to falsify ove with the backsword trick, and he interrupt ed before he could fall to the close. Oni. No, no, I know best how it wa better than any man here. I felt his pay presently; for look you, I gathered uper him thus, thus, do you see? for the double lock, and took it single on the head. Val. He says very true, he took it singe on the head. Seb. Come, let's go. Enter Martino with a cobweb. Mart. Here, fellow Onion, here's a co web. Using their wryed countenances instead of a vice.] We have this sentiinent again, pressed in the same words, in the induction to Every man out of his humour : 66 Using his wryed looks, "In nature of a vice, to wrest and turn "The good aspect of those that shall sit near him." And this shews The case is altered to have been in the number of Jonson's earliest produc tions; for we often find him repeating a thought or expression in his later plays, which he had before made use of, in some former piece. 6 1 Oni. How a cobweb, Martino! I will have another bout with you. 'Swounds, do you first break my head, and then give me a plaster in scorn? Come, to it, I will have a bout. Mart. God's my witness. Oni. Tut, your witness cannot serve. Junip. 'Sblood, why what! thou art not Junatic, art thou? and thou be'st, avoid, Mephostophilus. Say the sign should be in Aries now, as it may be for all us, where Junip. Come, come, you are a foolish na- Bound me with mighty solemn conjurations In his enforced absence. Much, i' faith! friend's? !, 'tis a good fool, do so; hang me then. 'Sblood see, he's here. O what damn'd luck This labour's lost, I must hy no means see him. Tau, dery, dery. [Exit. Jaques, Christophero. Jaq. Mischief and bell, what is this man a spirit? Haunts he, my house's ghost? still at my door? In his enforced absence much i' faith.] It should be printed thus: In his enforced absence. Much, i' faith! This ironical use of the word much, as a term of disdain, hath been remarked before. 4 Jaq. Sir! God's my life, sir! sir! call me sir!] The character of Jaques is formed upon that of Euclio in the Aulularia of Plautus: and is drawn with that masterly expression which distinguisheth the works of Jonson. The scene here between Christophero and Jaques, and what follows between the count and him, is copied from what passes between Euciio and Megadorus; but with so high an improvement, as determines the palm of applause in favour of our author. The original here is, Non temerarium est, ubi dives blandè appellat pauperem. I meant almost: and would your worship speak? Would you abase yourself to speak to me? Chr. 'Tis no abusing, father: my intent Is to do further honour to you, sir, Than only speak; which is to be your son. Jaq. My gold is in his nostrils, he has smelt it; [my entrails, Break breast, break heart, fall on the earth With this same bursting admiration! He knows my gold, he knows of all my trea[guess? How do you know, sir? whereby do you Chr. At what, sir? what is't you mean? Jaq. I ask, an't please your gentle worship, how you know? sure. I mean, how I should make your worship know Jaq. Yet all is safe within, is none without? Nobody break my walls? Chr. What say you, father, shall I have Jaq. I have no dowry to bestow upon her. Then I beseech your worship make no ques- sions breath, [ter; Which being settled I will fetch his daughI shall but move too much, to speak now to him. [Exit Christopher. Jaq. So, he is gone; would all were dead and gone, That I might live with my dear gold alone. SCENE III. Jaques, Count. Count. He has forgot me sure; wh should this mean? He fears authority, and my want of wife Will take his daughter from him to defam her: He that hath nought on earth but one po daughter, May take this extasy of care to keep her. Enter Jaques. Jaq. And yet 'tis safe: they mean not to use force, But fawning coming. I shall easily know, By his next question, if he think me rich. Whom see I? my good lord? Count. Stand up, good father, I call thee not good father for thy age, But that I gladly wish to be thy son, In honour'd marriage with thy beauteo daughter. Jaq. O, so, so, so, so, so this is for gold. Now it is sure this is my daughter's neat Пог ness Makes them believe me rich. No, my go Jaq. Nay, sweet lord, pardon me, do x Hear your poor beadsman speak: 'ts quisite In a cold frosty morning; God requite he Her homely stockings Count. Father, I'll hear no more, the mov'st too much With thy too curious answer for thy daughte That doth deserve a thousand times much. I'll be thy son-in-law, and she shall wear Th' attire of countesses. Jaq. O, good my lord, Mock not the poor; remembers not you lordship That poverty is the precious gift of God, As well as riches? tread upon me, rather Than mock my poorness. Count. Rise, I say; When I mock poorness, then heaven make me poor. SCENE IV. Nuntius, Count. Nun. See, here's the count Ferneze, I will tell him = And those that use it not but in their friends, Or in their children. Count. Il news of my son, My dear and only son, I'll lay my soul! And the report of it will kill me quite. Nun. He's taken prisoner, and that's all. I set my thoughts on love, on servile love, Forget my virtuous wife, feel not the dangers, The bands and wounds of my own flesh and blood, And therein am a madman; therein plagu'd With the most just affliction under heaven. Is Maximilian taken prisoner too? Nun. No, good my lord; he is return'd with prisoners. Count. Is't possible! can Maximilian Return and view my face without my son, For whom he swore such care as for himself? Nun. My lord, no care can change the events of war. Count. O in what tempests do my for tunes sail ! Still wrack'd with winds more foul and contrary Than any northern gust, or southern flawe, lady, And now my Paulo prisoner to the French; Which last being printed with my other griefs, Doth make so huge a volume, that my breast Cannot contain them. But this is my love; I must make love to Rachel: heaven hath thrown This vengeance on me most deservedly, Were it for nought but wronging of my steward. [redress Nun. My lord, since only money may The worst of this misfortune, be not griev'd; Prepare his ransom, and your noble son Shall greet your cheared eyes with the more honour. Count. I will prepare his ransom; gra- Grant his imprisonment may be his worst, Vow, But the fruition of mine only son. [Exeunt. lover. I will believe them, I: they may come in I'll set his burning nose once more a work, "Scarce lawfully begotten, but yet gotten, "And that's enough." Rot all hands that come near thee, Except mine own. Burn out all eyes that see thee, [poison Except mine own. All thoughts of thee be To their enamour'd hearts, except mine own. I'll take no leave, sweet prince, great em • Than any northern GUEST or southern flaw.] Common sense here tells us, that guest is a corruption from gust. The only copy of this play is a very erroneous one, of 1609; and faults of the press, like the preceding one, occur in every page: but as these are every such easily set right, it would be impertinent to trouble the reader with a note, for alteration. |