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A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II

R >> Robert Dodsley >> A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II




[_Here the Rich Man goeth out, and the two Cooks
cometh in; first the one, and then the other_.

THE MAN-COOK.
Make haste, Blanche, blab it out, and come away,
For we have enough to do all this whole day;
Why, Blanche, blab it out, wilt thou not come,
And knowest what business there is to be done?
If thou may be set with the pot at thy nose,
Thou carest not how other matters goes;
Come away, I bid thee, and tarry no longer,
To trust to thy help I am much the better!

THE MAID-COOK.
What a murrain, I say, what a noise dost thou make!
I think that thou be not well in thy wits!
I never heard man on this sort to take,
With such angry words and hasty fits.

MAN. Why, dost thou remember what is to be bought
For the great bridal against to-morrow?
The market must be in every place sought
For all kinds of meats, God give thee sorrow!

MAID. What banging, what cursing, Long-tongue, is with thee!
I made as much speed as I could possibly;
I-wis thou mightest have tarried for me,
Until in all points I had been ready;
I have for thee looked full oft heretofore,
And yet for all that said never the more.

MAN. Well, for this once I am with thee content,
So that hereafter thou make more haste;
Or else, I tell thee, thou wilt it repent,
To loiter so long, till the market be past.
For there must be bought beef, veal and mutton,
And that even such as is good and fat,
With pig, geese, conies, and capon;
How sayest thou, Blanche? blab it out unto that?

MAID. I cannot tell, Long-tongue, what I should say;
Of such good cheer I am so glad,
That if I would not eat at all that day,
My belly to fill I were very mad!

MAN. There must be also pheasant and swan;
There must be heronsew, partridge, and quail;
And therefore I must do what I can,
That none of all these the gentleman fail.
I dare say he looks for many things mo,
To be prepared against to-morn;
Wherefore, I say, hence let us go:
My feet do stand upon a thorn.

MAID. Nay, good Long-tongue, I pray once again
To hear yet of my mind a word or twain.

MAN. Come off, then: dispatch, and speak it quickly,
For what thing it is thou causest me tarry.

MAID. Of whence is this gentleman that to-morrow is married?
Where doth his father and his mother dwell?
Above forty miles he hath travelled,
As yesternight his servant did tell.

MAN. In very deed he comes a great way,
With my master he may not long abide;
It hath cost him so much on costly array,
That money out of his purse apace doth slide.
They say that his friends be rich and wealthy,
And in the city of London have their dwelling,
But yet of them all he hath no penny
To spend and bestow here at his wedding.
And if it be true that his servant did say,
He hath utterly lost his friends' good-will,
Because he would not their counsel obey,
And in his own country[320] tarry still;
As for this woman, which he shall marry,
At Saint Albans always hath spent her life;
I think she be a shrew, I tell thee plainly,
And full of debate, malice and strife.

MAID. Though I never saw this woman before,
Which hither with him this gentleman brought,
Yet nevertheless I have tokens in store,
To judge of a woman that is forward and naught.
The tip of her nose is as sharp as mine,
Her tongue and her tune[321] is very shrill;
I warrant her she comes of an ungracious kin,
And loveth too much her pleasure and will:
What though she be now so neat and so nice,
And speaketh as gentle as ever I heard:
Yet young men, which be both witty and wise,
Such looks and such words should not regard.

MAN. Blanche, blab it out; thou sayest very true;
I think thou beginnest at length to preach:
This thing to me is strange and new,
To hear such a fool young men to teach.

MAID. A fool! mine own Long-tongue! why, call'st thou me fool!
Though now in the kitchen I waste the day,
Yet in times past I went to school,
And of my Latin primer I took assay.

MAN. Masters, this woman did take such assay,
And then in those days so applied her book,
That one word thereof she carried not away,
But then of a scholar was made a cook.
I dare say she knoweth not how her primer began,
Which of her master she learned then.

MAID. I trow it began with _Domine labia, aperies_.

MAN. What, did it begin with _butter de peas_?

MAID. I tell thee again, with _Domine, labia aperies_,
If now to hear it be thine ease.

MAN. How, how, with, _my madam lay in the pease_?

MAID. I think thou art mad! with _Domine, labia aperies_.

MAN. Yea, marry, I judged it went such ways;
It began with, _Dorothy, lay up the keys!_

MAID. Nay then, good night; I perceive by this gear,
That none is so deaf as who will not hear;
I spake as plainly as I could devise,
Yet me understand thou canst in no wise!

MAN. Why, yet once again, and I will better listen,
And look upon thee how thy lips do open.

MAID. Well, mark then, and hearken once for all,
Or else hear it again thou never shall;
My book, I say, began with _Domine, labia aperies_.

MAN. Fie, fie, how slow am I of understanding!
Was it all this while, _Domine, labia aperies?_
Belike I have lost my sense of hearing,
With broiling and burning in the kitchen o' days.[322]

MAID. I promise thee thou seemest to have done little better,
For that I wot in my life I never saw
One like to thyself in so easy a matter,
Unless he were deaf, thus play the daw.[323]

MAN. Come on, come on, we have almost forgotten
Such plenty of victuals as we should buy;
It were alms,[324] by my troth, thou were well beaten,
Because so long thou hast made me tarry.

MAID. Tush, tush, we shall come in very good season,
If so be thou goest as fast as I;
Take up thy basket, and quickly have done,
We will be both there by and by.

MAN. I for my part will never leave running,
Until that I come to the sign of the Whiting.

[_Here the two Cooks run out, and in cometh the
Young Man and the Young Woman his lover_.

THE YOUNG WOMAN.
Where is my sweeting,[325] whom I do seek?
He promised me to have met me here:
Till I speak with him I think it a week,
For he is my joy, he is my cheer!
There is no night, there is no day,
But that my thoughts be all of him;
I have no delight, if he be away:
Such toys in my head do ever swim.
But behold at the last, where he doth come.
For whom my heart desired long;
Now shall I know, all and some,[326]
Or else I would say I had great wrong.

THE YOUNG MAN.
My darling, my coney,[327] my bird so bright of ble:[328]
Sweetheart, I say, all hail to thee!
How do our loves? be they fast asleep?
Or the old liveliness do they still keep?

YOUNG WOMAN. Do ye ask, and[329] my love be fast asleep?
O, if a woman may utter her mind,
My love had almost made me to weep,
Because that even now I did not you find;
I thought it surely a whole hundred year,[330]
Till in this place I saw you here.

YOUNG MAN. Alack, alack, I am sorry for this!
I had such business, I might not come;
But ye may perceive what my wit is,
How small regard I have and wisdom.

YOUNG WOMAN. Whereas ye ask me concerning my love,
I well assure you it doth daily augment;
Nothing can make me start or move;
You only to love is mine intent.

YOUNG MAN. And as for my love it doth never relent,
For of you I do dream, of you I do think;
To dinner and supper I never went,
But of beer and wine to you I did drink.
Now of such thinks[331] therefore to make an end,
Which pitiful lovers do cruelly torment,
To marriage, in God's name, let us descend,
As unto this hour we have been bent.

YOUNG WOMAN. Your will to accomplish I am as ready
As any woman, believe me truly.

YOUNG MAN. This ring then I give you as a token sure,
Whereby our love shall always endure.

YOUNG WOMAN. With a pure pretence your pledge I take gladly,
For a sign of our love, faith, and fidelity.

YOUNG MAN. Now I am safe, now I am glad,
Now I do live, now I do reign;
Methought till now I was too sad,
Wherefore, sadness, fly hence again!
Away with those words which my father brought out!
Away with his sageness and exhortation!
He could not make me his fool or his lout,
And put me besides this delectation.
Did he judge that I would go to the school,
And might my time spend after this sort?
I am not his calf,[332] nor yet his fool;
This virgin I kiss is my comfort!

YOUNG WOMAN. Well then, I pray you, let us be married,
For methink from it we have long tarried.

YOUNG MAN. Agreed, my sweeting, it shall be then done,
Since that thy good-will I have gotten and won.

YOUNG WOMAN. There would this day be very good cheer,
That every one his belly may fill,
And three or four minstrels would be here,
That none in the house sit idle or still.

YOUNG MAN. Take ye no thought for abundance of meat,
That should be spent at our bridal,
For there shall be enough for all men to eat,
And minstrels besides thereto shall not fail.
The cooks, I dare say, a good while agone,
With such kind of flesh as I did them tell,
Are from the market both come home,
Or else, my own coney, they do not well.
I knew, before that I come to this place,
We should be married together this day,
Which caused me then forthwith in this case
To send for victuals, ere I came away.

YOUNG WOMAN. Wherefore then (I pray ye) shall we go to our inn,
And look that everything be made ready?
Or else all is not worth a brass pin,[333]
Such haste is required in matrimony.

YOUNG MAN. I think six o'clock it is not much past,
But yet to the priest we will make haste,
That according to custom we may be both coupled,
And with a strong knot for ever bound fast:
Yet, ere I depart, some song I will sing,
To the intent to declare my joy without fear,
And in the meantime you may, my sweeting,
Rest yourself in this little chair.


THE SONG.

_Spite of his spite, which that in vain
Doth seek to force my fantasy,
I am professed for loss or gain,
To be thine own assuredly;
Wherefore let my father spite[334] and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

Although my father of busy wit
Doth babble still, I care not tho;
I have no fear, nor yet will flit,
As doth the water to and fro;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

For I am set and will not swerve,
Whom spiteful speech removeth nought;
And since that I thy grace deserve,
I count it is not dearly bought;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

Who is afraid, let you him fly,
For I shall well abide the brunt;
Maugre to his lips that listeth to lie,
Of busy brains as is the wont;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

Who listeth thereat to laugh or lour,[335]
I am not he that ought doth rech;[336]
There is no pain that hath the power
Out of my breast your love to fetch;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

For whereas he moved me to the school,
And only to follow my book and learning:
He could never make me such a fool,
With all his soft words and fair speaking;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

This minion here, this mincing[337] trull,[338]
Doth please me more a thousandfold,
Than all the earth that is so full
Of precious stones, silver and gold;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

Whatsoever I did it was for her sake,
It was for her love and only pleasure;
I count it no labour such labour to take,
In getting to me so high a treasure;
Wherefore, let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!

This day I intended for to be merry,
Although my hard father be far hence,
I know no cause for to be heavy,
For all this cost and great expense;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!_


YOUNG MAN. How like ye this song, my own sweet rose?
Is it well made for our purpose?

YOUNG WOMAN. I never heard in all my life a better,
More pleasant, more meet for the matter;
Now let us go then, the morning is nigh gone,
We cannot any longer here remain:
Farewell, good masters every one,
Till from the church we come again.

[_Here they go out, and in cometh the Priest alone_.

PRIEST. Sirs, by my troth it is a world to see[339]
The exceeding negligence of every one,
Even from the highest to the lowest degree
Both goodness and conscience is clean gone.
There is a young gentleman in this town,
Who this same day now must be married:
Yet though I would bestow a crown,
That knave the clerk cannot be spied;
For he is safe, if that in the alehouse
He may sit tippling of nut-brown ale,
That oft he comes forth as drunk as a mouse,
With a nose of his own not greatly pale;
And this is not once, but every day
Almost, of my faith, throughout the whole year,
That he these tricks doth use to play,
Without all shame, dread and fear.
He knoweth himself, that yesternight
The said young gentleman came to me,
And then desired that he might
This morning betimes married be;
But now I doubt it will be high noon,
Ere that his business be quite ended,
Unless the knavish fool come very soon,
That this same thing may be despatched;
And therefore, since that this naughty pack
Hath at this present me thus served,
He is like henceforward my good-will to lack,
Or else unwise I might be judged.
I am taught hereafter how such a one to trust
In any matter concerning the church;
For, if I should, I perceive that I must
Of mine own honesty lose very much.
And yet for all this, from week to week,
For his stipend and wages he ever[340] crieth,
And for the same continually doth seek,
As from time to time plainly appeareth;
But whether his wages he hath deserved,
Unto you all I do me report,
Since that his duty he hath not fulfilled,
Nor to the church will scant resort;
That many a time and oft[341] I am fain
To play the priest, clerk, and all,
Though thus to do it is great pain,
And my reward but very small.
Wherefore (God willing) I will such order take,
Before that I be many days elder,
That he shall be glad this town to forsake,
And learn evermore to please his better,
And in such wise all they shall be used,
Which in this parish intend to be clerks;
Great pity it were the church should be disordered,
Because that such swillbowls[342] do not their works.
And to say truth, in many a place,
And other great towns beside this same,
The priests and parishioners be in the like case,
Which to the churchwardens may be a shame.
How should the priest his office fulfil,
Accordingly as indeed he ought,
When that the clerk will have a self-will,
And always in service-time must be sought?
Notwithstanding at this present there is no remedy,
But to take time, as it doth fall,
Wherefore I will go hence and make me ready,
For it helpeth not to chafe or brawl.

[_Here the Priest goeth out, and in cometh the Rich Man_.

THE RICH MAN.
Coming this day forth of my chamber,
Even as for water to wash I did call,
By chance I espied a certain stranger,
Standing beneath within my hall;
Who in very deed came from the innholder,
Whereas for a time my son did lie,
And said that his master had sent me a letter,
And bad him to bring it with all speed possible;
Wherein he did write that as this day
That unthrift,[343] my son, to a certain maid
Should then be wedded without further delay,
And hath borrowed more than will be paid;
And since that he heard he was my son
By a gentleman or two this other day,
He thought that it should be very well done
To let me have knowledge thereof by the way;
And willed me, if that I would any thing
Of him to be done of me in this matter,
That then he his servant such word should bring,
As at his coming he might do hereafter:
I bad him thank his master most heartily,
And sent him by him a piece of venison,
For that he vouchsafed to write so gently,
Touching the marrying and state of my son;
But notwithstanding I sent him no money
To pay such debts as my son did owe,
Because he had me forsaken utterly,
And me for his good father would not know;
And said that with him I would not make
From that day forward during my life,
But as he had brewed, that so he should bake,
Since of his own choosing he gat him a wife.
Thus, when his servant from me departed,
Into my chamber I went again,
And there a great while I bitterly weeped:
This news to me was so great pain.
And thus with these words I began to moan,
Lamenting and mourning myself all alone:
O madness, O doting of those young folk!
O minds without wit, advice and discretion,
With whom their parents can bear no stroke
In their first matrimonial conjunction:
They know not what misery, grief and unquietness
Will hereafter ensue of their extreme foolishness;
Of all such labours they be clean ignorant,
Which, in the nourishing and keeping of children,
To their great charges it is convenient
Either of them henceforth to sustain:
Concerning expenses bestowed in a house,
They perceive as little as doth the mouse.
On the one side the wife will brawl and scold,
On the other side the infant will cry in the cradle:
Anon, when the child waxeth somewhat old,
For meat and drink he begins to babble:
Hereupon cometh it that at markets and fairs
A husband is forced to buy many wares.
Yet for all this hath my foolish son,
As wise [as] a woodcock,[344] without any wit,
Despising his father's mind and opinion,
Married a wife for him most unfit,
Supposing that mirth to be everlasting,
Which then at the first was greatly pleasing.
How they two will live, I cannot tell;
Whereto they may trust, they have nothing.
My mind giveth me, that they will come dwell
At length by their father for want of living;
But my son doubtless, for anything that I know,
Shall reap in such wise as he did sow;
True he shall find, that Hipponax did write,
Who said with a wife are two days of pleasure;
The first is the joy of the marriage-day and night,
The second to be at the wife's sepulture:
And this by experience he shall prove true,
That of his bridal great evils do ensue.
And (as I suppose) it will prove in his life,
When he shall wish that to him it may chance,
Which unto Eupolis and also his wife,
The night they were wedded, fell for a vengeance;
Who with the heavy ruin of the bed were slain,
As the Poet Ovid in these two verses make plain:

_Sit tibi conjugii nox prima novissimi vitae,
Eupolis hoc periit et nova nupta modo_.

Ovidius, writing against one Ibis his enemy,
That the first night of his marriage did wish
The last of his life might be certainly,
For so (quoth he) did Eupolis and his wife perish.
Yet to my son I pray God to send,
Because thereunto me nature doth bind,
Though he hath offended, a better end
Than Eupolis and his wife did find.
And now I shall long ever anon,
Till some of those quarters come riding hither,
Unto the which my son is gone,
To know how they do live together.
But I am fasting, and it is almost noon,
And more than time that I had dined:
Wherefore from hence I will go soon;
I think by this time my meat is burned.

[_Here the Rich Man goeth out, and in cometh the Young
Man his son with the Young Woman, being both married_.

THE HUSBAND.
O my sweet wife, my pretty coney!

THE WIFE.
O my husband, as pleasant as honey.

HUSBAND. O Lord, what pleasures and great commodity
Are heaped together in matrimony!

WIFE. How vehement, how strong a thing love is!
How many smirks and dulsome[345] kisses!

HUSBAND. What smiling, what laughing!
What sport, pastime, and playing!

WIFE. What tickling, what toying!
What dallying, what joying!

HUSBAND. The man with the wife is wholly delighted,
And with many causes to laughter enforced.

WIFE. When they two drink, they drink together;
They never eat but one with another.

HUSBAND. Sometimes to their garden forth they walk,
And into the fields sometimes they go,
With merry tricks and gestures they talk,
As they do move their feet to and fro.

WIFE. Sometimes they ride into the country,
Passing the time with mirth and sport;
And when with their friends they have been merry,
Home to their own house they do resort.

HUSBAND. Sometimes abroad they go to see plays,
And other trim sights for to behold:
When often they meet in the highways
Much of their acquaintance they knew of old.

WIFE. Sometimes to the church they do repair,
To hear the sermon that shall be made,
Though it to remember they shall have small care;
For why they be now but few of that trade.

HUSBAND. Sometimes at home at cards they play,
Sometimes at this game, sometimes at that;
They need not with sadness to pass the day,
Nor yet to sit still, or stand in one plat.

WIFE. And as for us wives, occasions do move
Sometimes with our gossips to make good cheer,
Or else we did not, as did us behove,
For certain days and weeks in the year.

HUSBAND. I think that a man might spend a whole day,
Declaring the joys and endless bliss,
Which married persons receive alway,
If they love faithfully, as meet it is.

WIFE. Wives cannot choose but love earnestly,
If that their husbands do all things well;
Or else, my sweetheart, we shall espy,
That in quietness they cannot dwell.

HUSBAND. If they do not, it may be a shame,
For I love you heartily, I you assure:
Or else I were truly greatly to blame,
Ye are so loving, so kind and demure.

WIFE. I trust that with neither hand or foot
Ye shall see any occasion by me:
But that I love you even from the heart-root,
And during my life so intend to be.

HUSBAND. Who then merry marriage can discommend,
And will not with Aristotle in his Ethics[346] agree?
But will say, that misery is the end,
When otherwise I find it to be:
A politic man will marry a wife,
As the philosopher makes declaration,
Not only to have children by his life,
But also for living, help, and sustentation.

WIFE. Who will not with H'erocles plainly confess,
That mankind to society is wholly adjoining,
And in this society nevertheless
Of worthy wedlock took the beginning:
Without the which no city can stand,
Nor household be perfect in any land?

HUSBAND. Pythagoras, Socrates, and Crates also,
Which truly were men of very small substance,
As I heard my father tell long ago,
Did take them wives with a safe conscience;
And dwelled together, supposing that they
Were unto philosophy nother stop nor stay.

WIFE. Yea, what can be more according to kind,
Than a man to a woman himself to bind?

HUSBAND. Away with those therefore, that marriage despise,
And of dangers thereof invent many lies!

WIFE. But what is he that cometh yonder?
Do ye not think it is our man?
Somewhat there is that he hasteth hither,
For he makes as much speed as he can.

[_Here the servant of the Rich Man's Son
cometh in, with an errand to his master_.

SERVANT.
Master, there is a stranger at home,
He would very fain with you talk:
For until that to him ye do come,
Forth of the doors he will not walk.

HUSBAND. Come on then, my wife, if it be so,
Let us depart hence for a season:
For I am not well, till I do know
Of that man's coming the very reason.

[_Here they both go out, and their Servant doth
tarry behind alone_.

SERVANT.
Let them go both, and do what they will,
And with communication fill their belly:
For I, by Saint George, will tarry here still,
In all my life I was never so weary!
I have this day filled so many pots
With all manner wine, ale, and beer,
That I wished their bellies full of bots,[347]
Long of whom[348] was made such cheer.
What kinds of meat, both flesh and fish,
Have I, poor knave, to the table carried
From time to time, dish after dish;
My legs from going never ceased!
What running had I for apples and nuts!
What calling for biscuits, comfits, and caraways![349]
A vengeance, said I, light on their guts,
That makes me to turn so many ways!
What crying was there for cards and dice!
What roisting,[350] what ruffling made they within!
I counted them all not greatly wise,
For my head did almost ache with din.
What babbling, what jangling[351] was in the house!
What quaffing, what bibbing with many a cup!
That some lay along as drunk as a mouse,
Not able so much as their heads to hold up!
What dancing, what leaping, what jumping about,
From bench to bench, and stool to stool,
That I wondered their brains did not fall out,
When they so outrageously played the fool!
What juggling was there upon the boards!
What thrusting of knives through many a nose!
What bearing of forms, what holding of swords,
And putting of botkins[352] through leg and hose!
Yet for all that they called for drink,
And said they could not play for dry,
That many at me did nod and wink,
Because I should bring it by and by.
Howsoever they sported, the pot did still walk:
If that were away, then all was lost,
For ever anon the jug was their talk,
They passed[353] not who bare such charge and cost.
Therefore let him look his purse be right good,
That it may discharge all that is spent,
Or else it will make his hair grow through his hood,[354]
There was such havoc made at this present;
But I am afeard my master be angry,
That I did abide thus long behind:
Yet for his anger I pass[355] not greatly,
His words they be but only wind!
Now that I have rested so long in this place,
Homeward again I will hie me apace.

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