troll 10 ballads for Mr. John Trundle yonder, the rest of my mortality. It is true, and likely, my father may have as much patience as another man; for he takes much physick: and oft taking physick makes a man very patient. But would your packet, master Well-bred, had arrived at him in such a minute of his patience; then we had known the end of it, which now is doubtful, and threatens What! my wise cousin! nay, then I'll furnish our feast with one gull more toward the mess. He writes to me of a brace, and here's one, that's three: Oh for a fourth! Fortune, if ever thou❜lt use thine eyes, I entreat thee— Step. Oh, now I see who he laught at. He laught at somebody in that letter. By this good light, an' he had laught at me E. Kno. How now, cousin Stephen, meJancholy? Step. Yes, a little. I thought you had laught at me, cousin. E. Kno. Why, what an' I had, couz? what would you ha' done? Step. By this light, I would ha' told mine uncle. E. Kno. Nay, if you would ha' told your uncle, I did laugh at you, couz. Step. Did you, indeed? E. Kno. Yes, indeed. Step. Why then E. Kno. What then? Step. I am satisfied, it is sufficient? E. Kno. Why, be so, gentle couz. And, I pray you, let me intreat a courtesy of you. I am sent for, this morning, by a friend i' th' Old Jewry, to come to him; it's but crossing over the fields to Moorgate: will you bear me company? I protest, it is not to draw you into bond, or any plot against the state, couz. Step. Sir, that's all one, an' 'twere; you shall command me twice so far as Moorgate, to do you good in such a matter. Do you think I would leave you? I pro test E. Kno. No, no, you shall not protest, couz. Step. By my fackings, but I will, by your leave; I'll protest more to my friend, than I'll speak of at this time. E. Kno. You speak very well, couz. Step. Nay, not so neither, you shall pardon me: but I speak to serve my turn. E. Kno. Your turn, couz? Do you know what you say? A gentleman of your sort, parts, carriage, and estimation, to talk o' your turn i' this company, and to me alone, like a tankard-bearer at a conduit! fie! A wight that, hitherto, his every step hath left the stamp of a great foot behind him, as every word the savour of a strong spirit! and he! this man! so graced, gilded, or, to use a more fit metaphor, so tin-foiled by nature, as not ten housewives' pewter (again a good time) shews more bright to the world than he! and he (as I said last, so I say again, and still shall say it) this man! to conceal such real ornaments as these, and shadow their glory, as a milliner's wife does her wrought stomacher, with a smoaky lawn, or a black cyprus! O couz! it cannot be answered, go not about it. Drake's old ship at Deptford may sooner circle the world again. Come, wrong not the quality of your desert, with looking downward, couz; but hold up your head, so: and let the idea of what you are, be pourtrayed i' your face. that men may read i' your physnomy, Here within this place is to be seen the true, rare, and accomplished monster, or miracle of nature, which is all one. What think you of this, couz? Step. Why, I do think of it; and I will be more proud, and melancholy, and gentleman-like, than I have been; I'll insure you. E. Kno. Why, that's resolute, master Stephen! Now, if I can but hold him up to his height, as it is happily begun, it will do well for a suburb-humour: we may hap have a match with the city, and play him for forty pound. Come, couz. Step. I'll follow you. E. Kno. Follow me? you must go before. Step. Nay, an' I must, I will. Pray you, shew me, good cousin. SCENE IV. Mr. Matthew, Cob. Mat. I think this be the house: what ho! Cob. Who's there? O, master Matthew! gi' your worship good morrow. Mat. What! Cob! how dost thou, good Cob? dost thou inhabit here, Cob? Cob. I, sir, I and my lineage ha' kept a poor house here, in our days. Mat. Thy lineage, Monsieur Cob, what lineage? what lineage? Cob. Why, sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely. Mine ance'try came from a king's belly, no worse man: and yet no man neither (by your worship's leave, I did lie in that), but Herring the king of fish, (from his belly I proceed), one o' the monarchs o' the world, I assure you. The first redherring that was broiled in Adam and Eve's kitchen, do I fetch my pedigree from, by the harrot's book. His, Cob, was my great great-mighty-great grand-father. 10 And TROLL ballads.] Cry, and sing ballads. The expression common at that time; Will you troul the catch "You taught me but while e'er:-SHAKSPEARE'S Tempest. And Milton in the Paradise Lost, "To dress, to troll the tongue, and roll the eye." Mat. Why mighty, why mighty? I pray thee. Cob. O, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great Cob. Mat. How know'st thou that? Cob. How know I? why, I smell his ghost, ever and anon. Mat. Smell a ghost! O unsavoury jest! and the ghost of a herring, Cob. Cob. I, sir, with favour of your worship's nose, Mr. Matthew, why not the ghost of a herring Cob, as well as the ghost of RasherBacon? Mat. Roger Bacon, thou would'st say. Cob. I, say Rasher-Bacon. They were both broiled o' th' coals; and a man may smell broil'd meat, I hope? you are a scholar, upsolve me that, now. Mat. O raw ignorance! Cob, canst thou shew me of a gentleman, one Captain Bobadill, where his lodging is? Cob. O, my guest, sir! you mean. Mat. Thy guest! alas! ha, ha. Cob. Why do you laugh, sir! do you not mean Captain Bobadill? Mat. Cob, 'pray thee advise thyself well: do not wrong the gentleman, and thyself too. I dare be sworn, he scorns thy house; he! he lodge in such a base obscure place; as thy house! Tut, I know his disposition so well, he would not lie in thy bed, if thou'dst gi't him. Cob. I will not give it him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in't, we could not get him to bed all night: Well, sir, though he lie not o' my bed, he lies 'my bench: an't please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrapt about him, as though he had neither won nor lost, and yet, I warrant, he ne'er cast better in his life, than he has done to-night. Mat. Why? was he drunk? Cob. Drunk, sir? you hear not me say so. Perhaps he swallow'd a tavern token, or some such device, sir, I have nothing to do withal. I deal with water and not with wine. Gi' me my tankard there, ho! God b' w' you, sir. It's six a clock: I shou'd ha' carried two turns, by this. What ho! my stopple, come. Mat. Lie in a Water-bearer's house! A gentleman of his havings! Well, I'll tell him my mind. Cob. What, Tib, shew this gentleman up to the captain. Oh, an' my house were the Brazen-head now! faith it would e’en speak "Mo fools yet." You should ha' some now would take this Mr. Matthew to be a gentleman, at the least. His father's an honest man, a worshipful fishmonger, and so forth; and now does he creep, and wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is: O, my guest is a fine man, and they flout him invincibly. He useth every day to a merchant's house, where I serve water, one master Kitely's i' the Old Jewry; and here's the jest, he is in love with my master's sister, Mrs. Bridget, and calls her mistress and there he will sit you a whole afternoon sometimes, reading of these same abominable, vile, (a pox on 'em, I cannot abide them!)" rascally verses, Poyetry, Poyetry, and speaking of interludes; 'twill make a man burst to hear him. And the wenches, they do so geer, and ti-he at him--well, should they do so much to me, I'd forswear them all, by the foot of Pharaoh. There's an oath! How many water-bearers shall you hear swear such an oath? O, I have a guest (he teaches me) he does swear the legiblest of any man christened: By St. George, the foot of Pharaoh, the body of me, as I am a gentleman and a soldier: such dainty oaths! and withal, he does take this same filthy roguish tobacco, the finest and cleanliest! it would do a man good to see the fume come forth at's tonnels! Well, he owes me forty shillings (my wife lent him out of her purse, by sixpence at a time) besides his lodging: I would I had it. I shall ha't, he says, the next action. Helter-skelter, hang sorrow, care'll kill a cat, up-tails all, and a louse for the hangman. SCENE V. Bobadill, Tib, Matthew. [Bobad. is discovered lying on his bench.12 Tib. What say you, sir? Bob. A cup o' thy small beer, sweet hostess. Tib. Sir, there's a gentleman below would speak with you. Bob. A gentleman! odds so, I am not within. "Rascally verses, Poyetry, Poyetry, &c.] The number of small wits and pretenders to poetry in this age, was very great. Gascoin and Lodge, with some others, had wrote madrigals and pastoral sonnets in a pretty natural and easy strain. This produced a herd of imitators, who by degrees brought the fashion into contempt. The severer poets, therefore, took occasion to ridicule this affectation, by making it the object of mirth, even to the vulgar themselves. Mr. Matthew indeed might be very reasonably excused, as being both a gentleman and a lover. "Bobadill is discovered lying on his BENCH.] The same attitude is given to a brother of the society, by Sir Thomas Overbury; "Three large bavins set up his trade, with a “bench; which in the vacation of the afternoon, he uses for his day-bed." Character of an ordinary Fencer, Tib. My husband told him you were, sir. Bob. Who's there? take away the bason, good hostess; come up, sir. Tib. He would desire you to come up, sir. You come into a cleanly house, here. Mat. Save you, sir; save you, captain. Bob. Gentle master Matthew! Is it you, sir? Please you to sit down. Mat. Thank you, good captain, you may see I am somewhat audacious. Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper, last night, by a sort of gallants, where you were wish'd for, and drunk to, I assure you. Mat. "Vouchsafe me, by whom, good captain? Bob. Marry, by young Well-bred, and others: why, hostess, a stool here for this gentleman. Mat. No haste, sir, 'tis very well. Bob. Body o' me! it was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet; I was but new risen, as you came: how passes the day abroad, sir? you can tell. Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven : now trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat and private! Bob. I, sir: sit down, I pray you. Mr. Matthew (in any case) possess no gentlemen of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Mat. Who! I, sir? no. Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient, but in regard I would not be too popular, and generally visited as some are. Mat. True, captain, I conceive you. Bob. For do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me (except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engag'd, as yourself, or so) I could not extend thus far. Mat. O lord, sir, I resolve so. Bob. I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book ha' you there? What! Go by, Hieronymo ! 13 Mat. I, did you ever see it acted? Is't not well penn'd? Bob. Well-penn'd! I would fain see all the poets, of these times, pen such another play as that was! they'll prate and swagger, and keep a stir of art and devices, when, (as I am a gentleman) read 'em, they are the most shallow, pitiful, barren fellows, that live upon the face of the earth again. 66 Mat. Indeed here are a number of fine speeches in this book 14. "O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears!" There's a conceit! fountains fraught with tears! "O life, no life, but lively form of "death!" Another! "O world, no world, "but mass of public wrongs!" A third! "Confus'd and fill'd with murder, and "misdeeds!" A fourth! O, the muses! Is't not excellent? Is't not simply the best that ever you heard, captain? Ha! how do you like it? Bob. 'Tis good. Mat. "To thee, the purest object to my sense, "The most refined essence heaven covers, "Haste made the waste. Mat. This, sir? a toy o' mine own, in my nonage; the infancy of my muses! But when will you come and see my study? good faith, I can shew you some very good things, I have done of late-That boot becomes your leg, passing well, captain, methinks! Bob. So, so, it's the fashion gentlemen now use. Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak o' the fashion, master Well-bred's elder brother and I are fall'n out exceedingly; 13 What new book ha' you got there? What! go by, HIERONYMO.] The piece referred to is a play, much admired by the populace in that age, and as much derided by our old comedians. The speech above became a by-word, and is to be met with as such both in Shakspeare and Fletcher. 14 Here are a number of fine speeches in this book; O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears.] We have here another instance from HIERONYMO, which may serve the reader as a specimen of that poetry and nature, which reign throughout the whole. In the comedy called ALBUMAZAR, these verses are ridiculed by the following parody: "O lips, no lips, but leaves besmear'd with mel-dew ! "O dew, no dew, but drops of honey-combs! "O combs, no combs, but fountains full of tears! I would beg leave to remark, that this kind of satire, though now grown into disuse, was frequently practised by the poets of this age, upon the dramatic compositions of each other. It found a place, likewise, in the earliest productions of the stage. The old comedy of the Greeks abounded with railleries of this nature: and numerous examples might be produced from Aristophanes, in which Euripides is treated by him in the same manner. this other day, I happened to enter into some discourse of hanger, which, I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was most peremptory-beautiful, and gentleman-like! yet he condemn'd, and cry'd it down for the most pyed and ridiculous that ever he saw. Bob. Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't not? Mat. I, sir, he. Bob. Hang him, rook, he! why he has no more judgment than a malt-horse: By St. George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal; the most peremptory absurd clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne'er chang'd words with his like. By his discourse he should eat nothing but hay: he was born for the manger, pannier, or pack-saddle! He has not so much as a good phrase in his belly, but all old iron, and rusty proverbs! a good commodity for some smith to make hobnails of. Mat. I, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still, where he comes: he brags he will gi' me the bastinado, as I hear. Bob. How he the bastinado! how came he by that word, trow? Mat. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I term'd it so, for my more grace. Bob. That may be; for I was sure it was none of his word: but when? when said he so? Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say; a young gallant, a friend of mine told me so. Bob. Byrthe foot of Pharaoh, and 'twere my case now, I should send him a charte! presently the bastinado! "A most proper and sufficient dependance, warranted by the great Caranza: come hither: you shall chartel him; I'll shew you a trick or two, you shall kill him with at pleasure; the first stoccata, if you will, by this air. Mat. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge i'the mystery, i have heard, sir. Bob. Of whom? of whom ha' you heard it, I beseech you? Mat. Troth I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare, and un-inone-breath-utter-able skill, sir. Bob. Py heav'n, Lo not I; no skill i' the earth; some small rudiments i' the science, as to know my time, distance, or so: I have profest it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use, than mine own practice, I assure you: hostess, accommodate us with another bed-stati here quickly: lend us another bed-staff: the woman does not understand the words of action". Look you, sir: exalt not your point above this state, at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence, thus; (give it the gentleman, and leqve us;) so, sir. Come on: O, twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentlemanlike guard, so, indifferent: hollow your body more, sir, thus: now, stand fast o' your left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time "Oh, you disorder your point, most irregularly! Mat. How is the bearing of it now, sir? Bob. O, out of measure ill! a well expe rienced hand would pass upon you at plea sure. Mat. How mean you, sir, pass upon me? Bob. Why, thus, sir (make a thrust at me) come in upon the answer, controul your point, and make a fuil career at the body: the best practis'd gallants of the time name it the passado; a most desperate thrust, believe it! Mat. Well, come, sir. Bob. Why, you do rot manage your weapon with any facility or grace to invite me! I have no spirit to play with you: your dearth of judgment renders you tedious. Mat. But one venue, sir. "A most proper and sufficient DEPENDANCE, warranted by the great CARANZA.] DEPENDANCE, when the fighting sy tem was in vogue, signified the ground or cause of quarrel. The reader may find the doctrine humorously explained in The Decit is an Ass, Act 3. Caranza was an author who wrote a treatise on the Duello: he is often mentioned by Fletcher with ridicule, and by Jonson in his New Inn. Hostess, ACCOMMODATE us with another bed staff here quickly; lend us another bedstaf: the woman does not understand the WORDS OF ACTION.] Corporal Bardolph will explain to us what the captain means by the words of action. Bard: Pardon me, sir, I 66 "have heard the word. Phrase, call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase: but I "will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command. Accommodated, that is, when a man is, as they say, accom❝modated; or when a man is, being whereby he may be thought to be accommodated, "which is an excellent thing."-2d Part, Hen. 4th, Act III. Sc. 4. The word accommodation, as the poet tells us in his Discoveries, was at this time a modish expression, and what he calls, one of the perfumed terms of the age. "Note your distance, keep your due proportion of time.] This exposes with much life and humour the affected fashion of duelling, which then so universally prevailed. Bare fighting was not enough; but it must be managed according to rule, and the directions of the masters in the science. We have the same kind of satire in Shakspeare's Romeo and Juliet. He fights as you sing prick-songs, keeps time, distance and proportion: Ah, the immortal passado, the punto reverso." Act. II. Sc. 4. C 66 Bob. Venue! fie; most gross denomination, as ever I heard: O, the stoccata, while you live, sir, note that; come, put on your cloke, and we'll go to some private place, where you are acquainted, some tavern, or so and have a bit-I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you, by my direction; and then I will teach you trick: you shall kill him with it at the first, if you please. Why, I will learn you by the true judgment of the eye, hand, and foot, to controul any enemy's point i' the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, by this your hand; you should, by the same rule, controul his bullet, in a line, except it were hail shot, and spread. What money ha' you about you, Master Matthew? Mat. Faith, I ha' not past a two shillings, or so. Bob. 'Tis somewhat with the least; but come; we will have a bunch of radish, and salt, to taste our wine, and a pipe of tobacco, to close the orifice of the stomach; and then we'll call upon young Well-bred: perhaps we shall meet the Coridon his brother there, and put him to the question. ↳ The Coridon his brother.] Meaning Downright, who was half-brother to Well-bred. SCENE I. Kitely, Cash, Downright. Kit. THOMAS, come hither. ACT II. [desk, There lies a note within upon my Here take my key: It is no matter neither. Where is the boy? Cash. Within, sir, i' the warehouse. Kit. Let him tell over straight, that Spanish gold, [you And weigh it, with the pieces of eight. Do See the delivery of those silver-stuffs To master Lucar: tell him, if he will, He shall ha' the grograns, at the rate I told him, And I will meet him on the Exchange anon. Cash. Good, sir. [Downright? Kit. Do you see that fellow, brother Kit. He is a jewel, brother. I took him of a child, up at my door, And christen'd him, gave him mine own name Thomas, [proving Since bred him at the hospital; where A toward imp, I call'd him home, and taught him So much, as I have made him my cashier, And giv'n him, who had none, a surname, Cash; And find him in his place so full of faith, That I durst trust my life into his hands. Dow. So would not I in any bastard's, brother, somewhat As it is like he is; although I knew Dow. What need this circumstance? Pray you be direct. Kit. I will not say, how much I do ascribe Unto your friendship, nor in what regard I hold your love; but let my past behaviour, And usage of your sister, but confirm How well I have been affected to your Dow. You are too tedious, come to the matter, the matter. Ka. Then, without further ceremony, thus: My Brother Well-bred, sir,(I know not how), Of late, is much declin'd in what he was, And greatly alter'd in his disposition. When he came first to lodge here in my house, Ne'er trust me if I were not proud of him: Methought he bare himself in such a fashion, So full of man, and sweetness in his carriage, And, what was chief, it shew'd not borrow'd in him, "But all he did became him as his own, So loose, affected, and depriv'd of grace, To tell men's judgments where he lately stood. He's grown a stranger to all due respect, |