Lat. Room for green rushes, raise the fidlers, chamberlain, Call up the house in arms. Host. This will rouze Lovel. Fly. And bring him on too. Runs like a heifer, bitten with the brieze, Lat. Yo' were best hear that from her, Fly. And my young lady too. SCENE IV. Beaufort, Frank, Servant. [To them.] Beau. I thank you all; I thank thee, father Fly. Madam, my cousin, you look discompos'd, I have been bold with a sallad after supper, O' your own lettice here. Lad. You have, my lord. But laws of hospitality, and fair rites, Beau. I' your own house, I do acknowledge: else I much had trespass'd. But in an inn, and public, where there is Pei. Joy. Jor. Joy. Jug. All joy. Host. I, the house full of joy. Fly. Play the belis; fidlers, crack your strings with joy. Pru. But lady Latice, you shew'd a neglect Un-to-be-pardon'd, to'ards my lady, your kinswoman, Not to advise with her. Bea. Good politic Pru, Urge not your state advice, your after-wit'; 'Tis near upbraiding. Get our bed ready, chamberlain, [ceits, And, host, a bride-cup; you have rare conAnd good ingredients; ever an old host, Upo' the road, has his provocative drinks. Lat. He is either a good bawd, or a phy 3 Urge not your STATE ADVICE, your after-wit. married. What is the meaning of state advice? Grave advice; such as befits the solemnity of a state? Or is it not better to suppose it an error, and that stale advice was the poet's original word? especially as the following ●xpression seems to countenance the emendation. Gi' him his doublet again, the air is piercing; You may take cold, my lord. See whom you ha' married, Your host's son, and a boy. She'll prove a counterfeit mirth, and a clip'd Host. Stay, what is here! peace, rascals, stop your throats. SCENE V. Nurse. [To them.] That maggot, worm, that insect! O my child, [his face, My daughter! where's that Fly? I'll fly in The vermin, let me come to him. Fly. Why, nurse Sheele ? Nur. Hang thee, thou parasite, thou son of crums [child, And orts, thou hast undone me, and my My daughter, my dear daughter. Host. What means this? [ruin'd, Nur. O sir, my daughter, my dear child is By this your Fly, here, married in a stable, And sold unto a husband. Or the degrees of wrong you suffer'd by it? In having your daughter match'd thus hap pily, Into a noble house, a brave young blood, And a prime peer o' the realm ? Bea. Was that your plot, Fly? Supposititious fruits of an host's brain, Act 5: Scene 5.] THE NEW INN. Which hath almost, now, seven years been Dark as my vow was, never to see light, Bea. Give me my wife, I own her now, Host. But you must ask my leave first, [master, my young lord. Leave is but light. Ferret, go bolt your Here's gear will startle him. I cannot keep The passion in me, I am e'en turn'd child, And I must weep. Fly, take away mine [my lord; host, My beard and cap here, from me, and fetch and shall now I am her father, sir, you Ask my consent, before you have her. [wife! My dear and loving wife! my honour'd Who here hath gain'd but I? I am lord Frampul, Wife! The cause of all this trouble: I am he Have measur'd all the shires of England over, Wales, and her mountains, seen those wilder nations, Of people in the Peak, and Lancashire; Juglers and gipsies, all the sorts of canters, riers; For to these savages I was addicted, To search their natures, and make odd dis coveries, And here my wife, like a She-Mandevile, Nur. I may look up, admire, I cannot Yet to my lord. Host. Take heart, and breathe, recover, Thou hast recover'd me, who here had coffin'd of Myself alive, in a poor hostelry, In penance [sister, Nur. So did I you, Till stealing mine own daughter from her 1 lighted on this error hath cur'd all. Bea. And in that cure, include my trespass, mother, And father, for my wife Host. No, the Star-chamber. Bea. Away with that, you sour the Was ever tasted. Host. Gi' you joy, my son, like. But take your mistress, first, my child: I Or are these phant'sies made i' the Light And sold i' the New Inn ? Host. Best go to bed, And dream it over all. Let's all go sleep, Each with his turtle. Fly, provide us lod[inn, gings; Get beds prepar'd; yo' are master now o'the The lord o' the Light-Heart, I give it you. Fly was my fellow-gipsy. All my family, Indeed, were gipsies, tapsters, ostlers, chamberlains, [ving Reduced vessels of civility. But here stands Pru, neglected, best deserOf all that are i' the house, or i' my heart; Whom though I cannot help to a fit hus[tion: I'll help to that will bring one, a just porI have two thousand pound in bank for Pru, Call for it when she will. Your praises are instructions to mine ears, Whence you have made your wife to live your servant. And like MECENAS, having but ONE WIFE, Host. Lights: get us several lights. [joy, But hear my vision sung, my dream of beauty, Which I have brought, prepar'd, to bid us And light us all to bed, 'twill be instead Of airing of the sheets with a sweet odour. Host. Twill be an incense to our sacrifice Of love to-night, where I will woo afresh, And like Mæcenas, having but one wife, I'll marry her every hour of life hereafter*. They go out with a song. I'll marry her every hour of life hereafter.] Terentia, the wife of Macenas, is reported to have been not of the most gentle and complying manners, which necessarily produced many quarrels and reconcilements between her and her husband: this gave occasion to those words of Seneca, to which our poet alludes; Hunc esse, qui uxorem millies duxit, cùm SENEC. Epist. 114. unam habuerit. EPILOGU E. "With a true poet. He could have hal'd in "The drunkards, and the noises of the inn, "In his last act; if he had thought it fit "To vent you vapours in the place of wit: [or spue, "But better 'twas that they should sleep, "Than in the scene to offend him or you. "This he did think; and this do you for[live. "Whene'er the carcase dies, this art will "And had he liv'd the care of king and queen, [seen; "His art in something more yet had been "But mayors and shrieves may yearly fill 66 give: the stage: A king's, or poet's birth do ask an age." Another EPILOGUE there was, made for the play, in the poet's defence, but the play liv'd not in opinion, to have it spoken. "A JOVIAL host, and lord of the New Inn, [past therein, "'Clept the Light-Heart, with all that "Hath been the subject of our play tonight, (delight. "To give the king, and queen, and court "But then we mean the court above the stairs, [more of ears "And past the guard; men that have "Than eyes to judge us: such as will not hiss, [Cis. "Because the chambermaid was named 1 "We think it would have serv'd our scene as true, "If, as it is, at first we'd call'd her Pru, "For any mystery we there have found, "Or magick in the letters, or the sound. "She only meant was for a girl of wit, "To whom her lady did a province fit: "Which she would have discharg'd, and done as well, "Had she been christen'd Joyce, Grace, Doll, or Nell." `If, as it is, at first we'd call'd her PRU.] In the first draught of the play, the chambermaid's name was Cicely, which, it seems, was not approv'd of by the audience, and therefore altered by the poet to Prudence. In the edition of 1631, she is sometimes called Cis, and sometimes Pru, by mistake of the printer. This Comedy, as it was never acted, but most negligently play'd by some, the KING'S SERVANTS; and more squeamishly beheld and censur'd by others, the KING'S SUBJECTS, 1629; is now, at last, set at liberty to the Readers, his MAJESTY's Servants and Subjects, to be judg'd of, 1631. The two gentlemen entering upon the stage. Mr. Probee and Mr. Damplay. A boy of the house meets them. Boy. WHAT do you lack, gentlemen? what is't you lack any fine fancies, figures, humours, characters, ideas, definitions of lords and ladies? Waiting-women, parasites, knights, captains, courtiers, lawyers, what do you lack? Pro. A pretty prompt boy for the poetic shop. Dam. And a bold! where's one o' your masters, sirrah, the poet? Boy. Which of 'em, sir? we have divers that drive that trade, now: poets, poetaccio's, poetasters, poetito's―― 'Dam. And all haberdashers of sinall wit, I presume; we would speak with the poet o' the day, boy. Boy. Sir, he is not here. But I have the dominion of the shop, for this time, under him, and can shew you all the variety the stage will afford for the present. Pro. Therein you will express your own good parts, boy. Dam. And tie us two to you for the gentle office. Pro. We are a pair of public persons (this gentleman and myself) that are sent thus coupled unto you, upon state-business. Boy. It concerns but the state of the stage, I hope. Dam. O, you shall know that by degrees, boy. No man leaps into a business of state, without fording first the state of the business. Pro. We are sent unto you, indeed, from the people. Boy. The people! which side of the peo- ple? boy. Boy. That's the left side. I had rather they had been the right. Pro. So they are Not the fæces, or grounds of your people, that sit in the oblique caves and wedges of your house, your sinful six-penny mechanicks Dam. But the better and braver sort of your people! plush and velvet outsides! that stick your house round like so many eminences Boy. Of clothes, not understandings? they are at pawn. Well, I take these as a part of your people though; what bring you to me from these people? 1 Dam. And all haberdashers of small wit.] Shakspeare has an expression of the like kind, in King Henry the Eighth, act 5. scene 1. "Porter's Man. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit, that railed upon me, ti!! "her pink'd porrenger fell off her head." Dr. GREY. |