Chapter 19

_Enter_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER.

ILF. Ho, sirrah, who would have thought it? I perceive now a woman may be a maid, be married, and lose her maidenhead, and all in half an hour. And how dost like me now, wench?

SIS. As doth befit your servant and your wife, That owe you love and duty all my life.

ILF. And there shall be no love lost, nor service neither; I'll do thee service at board, and thou shalt do me service a-bed: now must I, as young married men use to do, kiss my portion out of my young wife. Thou art my sweet rogue, my lamb, my pigsny, my playfellow, my pretty-pretty anything. Come, a buss, prythee, so 'tis my kind heart; and wots thou what now?

SIS. Not till you tell me, sir.

ILF. I have got thee with child in my conscience, and, like a kind husband, methinks I breed it for thee. For I am already sick at my stomach, and long extremely. Now must thou be my helpful physician, and provide for me.

SIS. Even to my blood, What's mine is yours, to gain your peace or good.

ILF. What a kind soul is this! Could a man have found a greater content in a wife, if he should have sought through the world for her? Prythee, heart, as I said, I long, and in good troth I do, and methinks thy first child will be born without a nose, if I lose my longing: 'tis but for a trifle too; yet methinks it will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me. I could take thy keys myself, go into thy closet, and read over the deeds and evidences of thy land, and in reading over them, rejoice I had such blessed fortune to have so fair a wife with so much endowment, and then open thy chests, and survey thy plate, jewels, treasure; but a pox on't, all will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me.

SIS. Sir, I will show you all the wealth I have Of coin, of jewels, and possessions.

ILF. Good gentle heart, I'll give thee another buss for that: for that, give thee a new gown to-morrow morning by this hand; do thou but dream what stuff and what fashion thou wilt have it on to-night.

SIS. The land I can endow you with's my Love: The riches I possess for you is Love, A treasure greater than is land or gold, It cannot be forfeit, and it shall ne'er be sold.

ILF. Love, I know that; and I'll answer thee love for love in abundance: but come, prythee, come, let's see these deeds and evidences--this money, plate, and jewels. Wilt have thy child born without a nose? if thou be'st so careless, spare not: why, my little frappet, you, I heard thy uncles talk of thy riches, that thou hadst hundreds a year, several lordships, manors, houses, thousands of pounds in your great chest; jewels, plate, and rings in your little box.

SIS. And for that riches you did marry me?

ILF. Troth, I did, as nowadays bachelors do: swear I lov'd thee, but indeed married thee for thy wealth.

SIS. Sir, I beseech you say not your oaths were such, So like false coin being put unto the touch; Who bear a flourish in the outward show Of a true stamp, but truly[416] are not so. You swore me love, I gave the like to you: Then as a ship, being wedded to the sea, Does either sail or sink, even so must I, You being the haven, to which my hopes must fly.

ILF. True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too, And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure As thou to me the merchant-venturer.

SIS. What riches I am ballast with are yours.

ILF. That's kindly said now.

SIS. If but with sand, as I am but with earth, Being your right, of right you must receive me: I have no other lading but my love, Which in abundance I will render you. If other freight you do expect my store, I'll pay you tears: my riches are no more.

ILF. How's this? how's this? I hope you do but jest.

SIS. I am sister to decayed Scarborow.

ILF. Ha!

SIS. Whose substance your enticements did consume.

ILF. Worse than an ague.

SIS. Which as you did believe, so they supposed. 'Twas fitter for yourself than for another To keep the sister, had undone the brother.

ILF. I am gulled, by this hand. An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a plague on them, and I know not what! Do you hear, puppet, do you think you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with you? I have made a fair match, i'faith: will any man buy my commodity out of my hand? As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she cost me.

_Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY.

WEN. O, have we met you, sir?

BAR. What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends acquainted with it?

ILF. A pox on her, I would you had her!

WEN. Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now 'tis done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand.

BAR. As that you have two thousand pounds a year.

WEN. Two or three manor-houses.

BAR. A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous.

ILF. Pretty, i'faith, very pretty.

WEN. Store of gold.

BAR. Plate in abundance.

ILF. Better, better, better.

WEN. And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the cuckolds in your country.

ILF. Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad: I could be made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this.

WEN. Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your ancient acquaintance. Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of the match for you.

ILF. A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me no more. That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has brought, bear witness how I'll reward her. [_Kicks her_.

SIS. Sir!

ILF. Whore, ay, and jade. Witch! Ill-faced, stinking-breath, crooked-nose, worse than the devil--and a plague on thee that ever I saw thee!

BAR. A comedy, a comedy!

WEN. What's the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy marriage!

ILF. O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married! I, that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched! Who do you think this is, gentlemen?

WEN. Why, your wife; who should it be else?

ILF. That's my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich, she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow.

BAR. How?

WEN. Ha, ha, ha!

ILF. Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't.

BAR. Nay, do not weep.

WEN. He does but counterfeit now to delude us. He has all her portion of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should borrow some money of him.

ILF. And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to carry me away from her.

BAR. But art thou thus gulled, i'faith?

ILF. Are you sure you have eyes in your head?

WEN. Why, then, [it is] by her brother's setting on, in my conscience; who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions, hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her himself.

ILF. Nay, that's without question; but I'll be revenged of 'em both. For you, minx:--nay, 'sfoot, give 'em me, or I'll kick else.

SIS. Good, sweet.

ILF. Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels: nay, bracelets too.

SIS. O me most miserable!

ILF. Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors: for now what's within this house is mine; and for your brother, He made this match in hope to do you good, And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood.

WEN. A brave resolution.

BAR. In which we'll second thee. [_Exit with_ WENTLOE.

ILF. Away, whore! out of my doors, whore! [_Exit_.

SIS. O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear.

_Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW _with_ BUTLER.

THOM. How now, sister?

SIS. Undone, undone!

BUT. Why, mistress, how is't? how is't?

SIS. My husband has forsook me.

BUT. O perjury!

SIS. Has ta'en my jewels and my bracelets from me.

THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em.

SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors.

THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more. But for his wrong revenge me on my brother, Degenerate, and was the curse of all, He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall.

JOHN. O, but, brother--

THOM. Persuade me not. All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on, The comfort we did look from him is frustrate, All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone; And all shall end by his destruction. [_Exit_.

JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen: His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill, If that one brother should another kill. [_Exit_.

BUT. And what will you do, mistress?

SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words, And wound myself with grief as they with swords. And for the sustenance that I should eat, I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat.

BUT. Good heart, I pity you, You shall not be so cruel to yourself, I have the poor serving-man's allowance: Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance; One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast, To give your wants relief. And, mistress, Be this some comfort to your miseries, I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ SCARBOROW.

SCAR. What is a prodigal? Faith, like a brush, That wears himself to furbish[418] others' clothes, And, having worn his heart even to the stump, He's thrown away like a deformed lump. O, such am I: I have spent all the wealth My ancestors did purchase, made others brave In shape and riches, and myself a knave. For though my wealth rais'd some to paint their door, 'Tis shut against me saying I am but poor: Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath grac'd My presence to the eye of majesty, shrinks back, His fingers clutch, and like to lead, They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead. By which I find spendthrifts (and such am I) Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within, And they (like snakes) know when to cast their skin.

_Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW.

THOM. Turn, draw, and die; I come to kill thee.

SCAR. What's he that speaks like sickness? O, is't you? Sleep still, you cannot move me: fare you well.

THOM. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood Can cool itself to temper by refusal: Turn, or thou diest.

SCAR. Away.

THOM. I do not wish to kill thee like a slave, That taps men in their cups, and broach[es] their hearts, Ere with a warning-piece they have wak'd their ears; I would not like to powder shoot thee down To a flat grave, ere thou hast thought to frown: I am no coward, but in manly terms And fairest oppositions vow to kill thee.

SCAR. From whence proceeds this heat?

THOM. From sparkles bred By thee, that like a villain--

SCAR. Ha!

THOM. I'll hollow it In thine ears, till thy soul quake to hear it, That like a villain hast undone thy brothers.

SCAR. Would thou wert not so near me! yet, farewell.

THOM. By Nature and her laws make[419] us akin-- As near as are these hands, or sin to sin-- Draw and defend thyself, or I'll forget Thou art a man.

SCAR. Would thou wert not my brother!

THOM. I disclaim thee[420].

SCAR. Are we not offspring of one parent, wretch?

THOM. I do forget it; pardon me the dead, I should deny the pains you bid for me. My blood grows hot for vengeance, thou hast spent My life's revenues, that our parents purchas'd.

SCAR. O, do not rack me with remembrance on't.

THOM. Thou hast made my life a beggar in this world, And I will make thee bankrupt of thy breath: Thou hast been so bad, the best that I can give[421]. Thou art a devil: not with men to live.

SCAR. Then take a devil's payment

_Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's back come in_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY.

ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen.

WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow.

SCAR. Girt round with death!

THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards, three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal.

[_Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return_.

SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been A patron of my life. Forget the sin, I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em, And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes, Though with indifferent ruin of mine own. I have a many sins, the thought of which Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul, But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point. If penitence your losses might repair, You should be rich in wealth, and I in care.

THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you, Evils the which are 'gainst another done, Repentance makes no satisfaction To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir, Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it, And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house-- A drunken tavern--spill'd my maintenance, Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;) Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly And pick up any food, lest I should die.

SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together.

THOM. At peace for what? For spending my inheritance? By yonder sun that every soul has life by, As sure as thou hast life, I'll fight with thee.

SCAR. I'll not be mov'd unto't.

THOM. I'll kill thee then, wert thou now clasp'd Within thy mother, wife, or children's arms.

SCAR. Would'st, homicide? art so degenerate? Then let my blood grow hot.

THOM. For it shall cool.

SCAR. To kill rather than be kill'd is manhood's rule.

_Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW.

JOHN. Stay, let not your wraths meet.

THOM. Heart! what mak'st thou here?

JOHN. Say, who are you, or you? are you not one, That scarce can make a fit distinction Betwixt each other? Are you not brothers?

THOM. I renounce him.

SCAR. Shalt not need.

THOM. Give way.

SCAR. Have at thee!

JOHN. Who stirs? which of you both hath strength within his arm To wound his own breast? who's so desperate To damn himself by killing of himself? Are you not both one flesh?

THOM. Heart! give me way.

SCAR. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword I'll[423] mete thy grave out.

JOHN. O, do: for God's sake, do; 'Tis happy death, if I may die, and you Not murder one another. O, do but hearken: When do the sun and moon, born in one frame, Contend, but they breed earthquakes in men's hearts? When any star prodigiously appears, Tells it not fall of kings or fatal years? And then, if brothers fight, what may men think? Sin grows so high, 'tis time the world should sink.

SCAR. My heart grows cool again; I wish it not.

THOM. Stop not my fury, or by my life I swear. I will reveal the robbery we have done, And take revenge on thee, That hinders me to take revenge on him.

JOHN. I yield to that; but ne'er consent to this, I shall then die, as mine own sin affords, Fall by the law, not by my brothers' swords.

THOM. Then, by that light that guides me here, I vow, I'll straight to Sir John Harcop, and make known We were the two that robb'd him.

JOHN. Prythee, do.

THOM. Sin has his shame, and thou shalt have thy due. [_Exit_.

JOHN. Thus have I shown the nature of a brother, Though you have proved unnatural to me. He's gone in heat to publish out the theft, Which want and your unkindness forc'd us to: If now I die, that death and public shame Is a corsive to your soul, blot to your name. [_Exit_.

SCAR. O, 'tis too true, there's not a thought I think, But must partake thy grief, and drink A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune. With weight of others' tears I am o'erborne, That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own, And all too good for me. A happy creature In my cradle, and I have made myself The common curse of mankind by my life; Undone my brothers, made them thieves for bread, And begot pretty children to live beggars. O conscience, how thou art stung to think upon't! My brothers unto shame must yield their blood: My babes at others' stirrups beg their food, Or else turn thieves too, and be chok'd for it, Die a dog's death, be perch'd upon a tree; Hang'd betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither. The curse of heaven that's due to reprobates Descends upon my brothers and my children, And I am parent to it--ay, I am parent to it.

_Enter_ BUTLER.

BUT. Where are you, sir?

SCAR. Why star'st thou, what's thy haste?

BUT. Here's fellows swarm like flies to speak with you.

SCAR. What are they?

BUT. Snakes, I think, sir; for they come with stings in their mouths, and their tongues are turn'd to teeth too: they claw villainously, they have ate up your honest name and honourable reputation by railing against you: and now they come to devour your possessions.

SCAR. In plainer evargy,[424] what are they? speak.

BUT. Mantichoras,[425] monstrous beasts, enemies to mankind, that have double rows of teeth in their mouths. They are usurers, they come yawning for money, and the sheriff with them is come to serve an extent upon your land, and then seize on your body by force of execution: they have begirt the house round.

SCAR. So that the roof our ancestors did build For their sons' comfort, and their wives for charity, I dare not to look out at.

BUT. Besides, sir, here's your poor children--

SCAR. Poor children they are indeed.

BUT. Come with fire and water, tears in their eyes and burning grief in their hearts, and desire to speak with you.

SCAR. Heap sorrow upon sorrow! tell me, are My brothers gone to execution For what I did? for every heinous sin Sits on his soul, by whom it did begin. And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal, My children carry moisture in their eyes, Whose speaking drops say, father, thus must we Ask our relief, or die with infamy, For you have made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has kill'd me, To give my passage comfort from this stage, Say all was done by enforc'd marriage: My grave will then be welcome.

BUT. What shall we do, sir?

SCAR. Do as the devil does, hate (panther-like) mankind![426] And yet I lie; for devils sinners love, When men hate men, though good like some above.

_Enter_ SCARBOROW'S _wife_ KATHERINE, _with two Children_.

BUT. Your wife's come in, sir.

SCAR. Thou li'st, I have not a wife. None can be call'd True man and wife, but those whom heaven install'd, Say--

KATH. O my dear husband!

SCAR. You are very welcome. Peace: we'll have compliment. Who are you, gentlewoman?

KATH. Sir, your distressed wife, and these your children,

SCAR. Mine! Where, how, begot? Prove me by certain instance that's divine, That I should call them lawful, or thee mine.

KATH. Were we not married, sir?

SCAR. No; though we heard the words of ceremony, But had hands knit, as felons that wear fetters Forc'd upon them. For tell me, woman, Did e'er my love with sighs entreat thee mine? Did ever I in willing conference Speak words, made half with tears, that I did love thee? Or was I ever but glad to see thee, as all lovers are? No, no, thou know'st I was not.

KATH. O me!

BUT. The more's the pity.

SCAR. But when I came to church, I did there stand, As water, whose forc'd breach[427] had drown'd my land. Are you my wife, or these my children? Why, 'tis impossible; for like the skies Without the sun's light, so look all your eyes; Dark, cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness; Within my country there was hope to see Me and my issue to be like our fathers, Upholders of our country all our life, Which should have been if I had wed a wife: Where now, As dropping leaves in autumn you look all, And I, that should uphold you, like to fall.

KATH. 'Twas nor shall be my fault, heaven bear me witness.

SCAR. Thou liest, strumpet, thou liest!

BUT. O sir!

SCAR. Peace, saucy Jack! strumpet, I say thou liest, For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy bastards Whom I begot of thee with this unrest, That bastards born are born not to be blest.

KATH. On me pour all your wrath, but not on them.

SCAR. On thee and them, for 'tis the end of lust To scourge itself, heaven lingering to be just: Harlot!

KATH. Husband!

SCAR. Bastards!

CHIL. Father!

BUT. What heart not pities this?

SCAR. Even in your cradle, you were accurs'd of heaven, Thou an adultress in my married arms. And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust: Ay, now you hang the head; shouldst have done so before, Then these had not been bastards, thou a whore.

BUT. I can brook't no longer: sir, you do not well in this.

SCAR. Ha, slave!

BUT. 'Tis not the aim of gentry to bring forth Such harsh unrelish'd fruit unto their wines[428], And to their pretty--pretty children by my troth.

SCAR. How, rascal!

BUT. Sir, I must tell you, your progenitors, Two of the which these years were servant to, Had not such mists before their understanding, Thus to behave themselves.

SCAR. And you'll control me, sir!

BUT. Ay, I will.

SCAR. You rogue!

BUT. Ay, 'tis I will tell 'tis ungently done Thus to defame your wife, abuse your children: Wrong them, you wrong yourself; are they not yours?

SCAR. Pretty--pretty impudence, in faith.

BUT. Her whom you are bound to love, to rail against! Those whom you are bound to keep, to spurn like dogs! And you were not my master, I would tell you--

SCAR. What, slave? [_Draws_.

BUT. Put up your bird-spit, tut, I fear it not; In doing deeds so base, so vile as these, 'Tis but a kna, kna, kna--

SCAR. Rogue!

BUT. Tut, howsoever, 'tis a dishonest part, And in defence of these I throw off duty.

KATH. Good butler.

BUT. Peace, honest mistress, I will say you are wrong'd, Prove it upon him, even in his blood, his bones, His guts, his maw, his throat, his entrails.

SCAR. You runagate of threescore!

BUT. 'Tis better than a knave of three-and-twenty.

SCAR. Patience be my buckler! As not to file[429] my hands in villain's blood; You knave, slave, trencher-groom! Who is your master?

BUT. You, if you were a master.

SCAR. Off with your coat then, get you forth a-doors.

BUT. My coat, sir?

SCAR. Ay, your coat, slave.

BUT. 'Sfoot, when you ha't, 'tis but a threadbare coat, And there 'tis for you: know that I scorn To wear his livery is so worthy born, And live[s] so base a life; old as I am, I'll rather be a beggar than your man, And there's your service for you. [_Exit_.

SCAR. Away, out of my door: away! So, now your champion's gone, minx, thou hadst better Have gone quick unto thy grave--

KATH. O me! that am no cause of it.

SCAR. Than have suborn'd that slave to lift his hand against me.

KATH. O me! what shall become of me?

SCAR. I'll teach you tricks for this: have you a companion?

_Enter_ BUTLER.

BUT. My heart not suffers me to leave my honest mistress and her pretty children.

SCAR. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy bastards--

BUT. What will you do to them, sir?

SCAR. The devil in thy shape come back again?

BUT. No, but an honest servant, sir, will take this coat, And wear it with this sword to safeguard these, And pity them, and I am woe for you[430], too; But will not suffer The husband, viper-like, to prey on them That love him and have cherish'd him, as these And they have you.

SCAR. Slave!

BUT. I will outhumour you, [I will] Fight with you and lose my life, ere[431] these Shall taste your wrong, whom you are bound to love.

SCAR. Out of my doors, slave!

BUT. I will not, but will stay and wear this coat, And do you service whether you will or no. I'll wear this sword, too, and be champion To fight for her, in spite of any man.

SCAR. You shall: you shall be my master, sir.

BUT. No, I desire it not, I'll pay you duty, even upon my knee, But lose my life, ere these oppress'd I'll see.

SCAR. Yes, goodman slave, you shall be master, Lie with my wife, and get more bastards; do, do, do.

KATH. O me!

SCAR. Turns the world upside down, That men o'erbear their masters? it does, it does. For even as Judas sold his master Christ, Men buy and sell their wives at highest price, What will you give me? what will you give me? What will you give me? [_Exit_.

BUT. O mistress, my soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry, To see his fall and your adversity; Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with. Into your chamber, and if comfort be akin To such great grief, comfort your children.

KATH. I thank thee, butler; heaven, when he please, Send death unto the troubled--a blest ease.

[_Exit with children_.

BUT. In troth I know not, if it be good or ill, That with this endless toil I labour thus: 'Tis but the old time's ancient conscience That would do no man hurt, that makes me do't: If it be sin, that I do pity these, If it be sin, I have relieved his brothers, Have played the thief with them to get their food, And made a luckless marriage for his sister, Intended for her good, heaven pardon me. But if so, I am sure they are great sinners, That made this match, and were unhappy[432] men; For they caus'd all, and may heaven pardon them.

_Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.

SIR WIL. Who's within here?

BUT. Sir William, kindly welcome.

SIR WIL. Where is my kinsman Scarborow?

BUT. Sooth, he's within, sir, but not very well.

SIR WIL. His sickness?

BUT. The hell of sickness; troubled in his mind.

SIR WIL. I guess the cause of it, But cannot now intend to visit him. Great business for my sovereign hastes me hence; Only this letter from his lord and guardian to him, Whose inside, I do guess, tends to his good; At my return I'll see him: so farewell. [_Exit_.

BUT. _Whose inside, I do guess, turns to his good_. He shall not see it now, then; for men's minds, Perplex'd like his, are like land-troubling-winds, Who have no gracious temper.

_Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW.

JOHN. O butler!

BUT. What's the fright now?

JOHN. Help, straight, or on the tree of shame We both shall perish for the robbery.

BUT. What, is't reveal'd, man?

JOHN. Not yet, good butler: only my brother Thomas, In spleen to me that would not suffer him To kill our elder brother had undone us, Is riding now to Sir John Harcop straight, To disclose it.

BUT. Heart! who would rob with sucklings? Where did you leave him?

JOHN. Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire.

BUT. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ SCARBOROW.

SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will, He gives his counsel freely, and the cause He for his clients pleads goes always with them: He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests, And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433], The less they give, the more I gain thereby;

_Enter_ BUTLER.

Their souls, their souls, their souls. How now, master? nay, you are my master; Is my wife's sheets warm? does she kiss well?

BUT. Good sir.

SCAR. Foh! make't not strange, for in these days, There's many men lie in their masters' sheets, And so may you in mine, and yet--your business, sir?

BUT. There's one in civil habit, sir, would speak with you.

SCAR. In civil habit?

BUT. He is of seemly rank, sir, and calls himself By the name of Doctor Baxter of Oxford.

SCAR. That man undid me; he did blossoms blow, Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show: With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not. A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him: With our sad conference we will call up tears, Teach doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: Usher him in: Heaven spare a drop from thence, where's bounteous throng: Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue.

_Enter_ DOCTOR.

DOC. Good Master Scarborow.

SCAR. You are most kindly welcome, sooth, ye are.

DOC. I have important business to deliver you.

SCAR. And I have leisure to attend your hearing.

DOC. Sir, you know I married you.

SCAR. I know you did, sir.

DOC. At which you promis'd both to God and men, Your life unto your spouse should be like snow, That falls to comfort, not to overthrow: And love unto your issue should be like The dew of heaven, that hurts not, though it strike: When heaven and men did witness and record 'Twas an eternal oath, no idle word: Heaven, being pleased therewith, bless'd you with children, And at heaven's blessings all good men rejoice. So that God's chair and footstool, heaven and earth, Made offering at your nuptials as a knot To mind you of your vow; O, break it not.

SCAR. 'Tis very true[434].

DOC. Now, sir, from this your oath and band[435], Faith's pledge and seal of conscience you have run, Broken all contracts, and the forfeiture Justice hath now in suit against your soul: Angels are made the jurors, who are witnesses Unto the oath you took, and God himself, Maker of marriage, he that seal'd the deed, As a firm lease unto you during life, Sits now as judge of your transgression: The world informs against you with this voice: If such sins reign, what mortals can rejoice?

SCAR. What then ensues to me?

DOC. A heavy doom, whose execution's Now serv'd upon your conscience, that ever You shall feel plagues, whom time shall not dissever; As in a map your eyes see all your life, Bad words, worse deeds, false oaths, and all the injuries, You have done unto your soul: then comes your wife, Full of woe's drops, and yet as full of pity, Who though she speaks not, yet her eyes are swords[436], That cut your heart-strings: and then your children--

SCAR. O, O, O!

DOC. Who, what they cannot say, talk in their looks; You have made us up, but as misfortune's books, Whom other men may read in, when presently, Task'd by yourself, you are not, like a thief, Astonied, being accus'd, but scorch'd with grief.

SCAR. I, I, I.

DOC. Here stand your wife's tears.

SCAR. Where?

DOC. And you fry for them: here lie your children's wants.

SCAR. Here?

DOC. For which you pine, in conscience burn, And wish you had been better, or ne'er born.

SCAR. Does all this happen to a wretch like me?

DOC. Both this and worse; your soul eternally Shall live in torment, though the body die.

SCAR. I shall have need of drink then: Butler!

DOC. Nay, all your sins are on your children laid, For the offences that the father made.

SCAR. Are they, sir?

DOC. Be sure they are.

_Enter_ BUTLER.

SCAR. Butler!

BUT. Sir.

SCAR. Go fetch my wife and children hither.

BUT. I will, sir.

SCAR. I'll read a lecture[437] to the doctor too, He's a divine? ay, he's a divine. [_Aside_.]

BUT. I see his mind is troubled, and have made bold with duty to read a letter tending to his good; have made his brothers friends: both which I will conceal till better temper. He sends me for his wife and children; shall I fetch them? [_Aside_.

SCAR. He's a divine, and this divine did marry me: That's good, that's good. [_Aside_.

DOC. Master Scarborow.

SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir.

BUT. I will obey him, If anything doth happen that is ill, Heaven bear me record, 'tis 'gainst my will. [_Exit_.

SCAR. And this divine did marry me, Whose tongue should be the key to open truth, As God's ambassador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. [_Aside_.

DOC. Master Scarborow.

SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir: Salvation to afflicted consciences, And not give torment to contented minds, Who should be lamps to comfort out our way, And not like firedrakes[438] to lead men astray, Ay, I'll be with you straight, sir.

_Enter_ BUTLER, [_with Wife and Children_].

BUT. Here's your wife and children, sir.

SCAR. Give way, then, I have my lesson perfect; leave us here.

BUT. Yes, I will go, but I will be so near, To hinder the mishap, the which I fear. [_Exit_ BUTLER.

SCAR. Now, sir, you know this gentlewoman?

DOC. Kind Mistress Scarborow.

SCAR. Nay, pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear The same affliction you have taught me fear, Due to yourself.

DOC. To me, sir?

SCAR. To you, sir. You match'd me to this gentlewoman?

DOC. I know I did, sir.

SCAR. And you will say she is my wife then.

DOC. I have reason, sir, because I married you.

SCAR. O, that such tongues should have the time to lie, Who teach men how to live, and how to die; Did not you know my soul had given my faith, In contract to another? and yet you Would join this loom unto unlawful twists.

DOC. Sir?

SCAR. But, sir, You that can see a mote within my eye, And with a cassock blind your own defects, I'll teach you this: 'tis better to do ill, That's never known to us, than of self-will. Stand these[439], all these, in thy seducing eye, As scorning life, make them be glad to die.

DOC. Master Scarborow--

SCAR. Here will I write that they, which marry wives, Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives. Here will I seal the children that are born, From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul Has her infusion, it registers they are foul, And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close I'll show the world, that such abortive men Knit hands without free tongues, look red like them Stand you and you to acts most tragical: Heaven has dry eyes, when sin makes sinners fall.

DOC. Help, Master Scarborow.

CHIL. Father.

KATH. Husband.

SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare, Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge. These to be rid from misery, this from sin, And thou thyself shalt have a push amongst them, That made heaven's word a pack-horse to thy tongue, Quot'st Scripture to make evil shine like good! And as I send you thus with worms to dwell, Angels applaud it as a deed done well.

_Enter_ BUTLER.

DOC. Stay him, stay him.

BUT. What will you do, sir?

SCAR. Make fat worms of stinking carcases. What hast thou to do with it?

_Enter_ ILFORD _and his Wife, the two Brothers, and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.

BUT. Look, who are here, sir?

SCAR. Injurious villain! that prevent'st me still.

BUT. They are your brothers and alliance, sir.

SCAR. They are like full ordnance then who, once discharg'd, Afar off give a warning to my soul, That I have done them wrong.

SIR WIL. Kinsman.

BRO. AND SIS. Brother.

KATH. Husband.

CHIL. Father.

SCAR. Hark, how their words like bullets shoot me thorough, And tell me I have undone them: this side might say, We are in want, and you are the cause of it; This points at me, y'are shame unto your house: This tongue says nothing, but her looks do tell She's married, but as those that live in hell: Whereby all eyes are but misfortune's pipe, Fill'd full of woe by me: this feels the stripe.

BUT. Yet look, sir, Here's your brothers hand in hand, whom I have knit so.

SIS. And look, sir, here's my husband's hand in mine, And I rejoice in him, and he in me.

SIR WIL. I say, cos, what is pass'd is the way to bliss, For they know best to mend, that know amiss.

KATH. We kneel: forget, and say if you but love us, You gave us grief for future happiness.

SCAR. What's all this to my conscience?

BUT. Ease, promise of succeeding joy to you; Read but this letter.

SIR WIL. Which tells you that your lord and guardian's dead.

BUT. Which tells you that he knew he did you wrong, Was griev'd for't, and for satisfaction Hath given you double of the wealth you had.

BRO. Increas'd our portions.

WIFE. Given me a dowry too.

BUT. And that he knew, Your sin was his, the punishment his due.

SCAR. All this is here: Is heaven so gracious to sinners then?

BUT. Heaven is, and has his gracious eyes, To give men life, not life-entrapping spies.

SCAR. Your hand--yours--yours--to my soul: to you a kiss; In troth I am sorry I have stray'd amiss; To whom shall I be thankful? all silent? None speak? whist! why then to God, That gives men comfort as he gives his rod; Your portions I'll see paid, and I will love you, You three I'll live withal, my soul shall love you! You are an honest servant, sooth you are; To whom? I, these, and all must pay amends; But you I will admonish in cool terms, Let not promotion's hope be as a string, To tie your tongue, or let it loose to sting.

DOC. From hence it shall not, sir.

SCAR. Then husbands thus shall nourish with their wives. [_Kiss_.

ILF. As thou and I will, wench.

SCAR. Brothers in brotherly love thus link together [_Embrace_. Children and servants pay their duty thus. [_Bow and kneel_. And are all pleas'd?

ALL. We are.

SCAR. Then, if all these be so, I am new-wed, so ends all marriage woe; And, in your eyes so lovingly being wed, We hope your hands will bring us to our bed.

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Baldwin's "Old English Drama," 2 vols. 12mo.

[2] From the similarity of the names, it seems the author originally intended to make Young Lusam the son of Old Lusam and brother of Mistress Arthur, but afterwards changed his intention: in page 13 the latter calls him a stranger to her, although he is the intimate friend of her husband.

[3] [Old copy, _walk_.]

[4] Busk-point, the lace with its tag which secured the end of the busk, a piece of wood or whalebone worn by women in front of the stays to keep them straight.

[5] [Old copies, _Study_.]

[6] [Old copy, _watch_.]

[7] [Old copies, _dream_.]

[8] [All Fuller's speeches must be supposed to be _Asides_.]

[9] [Old copies give this line to Fuller.]

[10] Old copies, _she_.

[11] Old copies, _bene_; but the schoolmaster is made to blunder, so that _bene_ may, after all, be what the author wrote.

[12] The rod, made of a willow-wand.

[13] Old copy, _how_.

[14] [Old copies, _laid_.]

[15] [A quotation.]

[16] _Christ-cross_, the alphabet.

[17] [The sense appears to be, for this not being perfect poison, as his (the pedant's) meaning is to poison himself, some covetous slave will sell him real poison.]

[18] [Old copies, _seem'd_.]

[19] [Old copies, _First_.]

[20] [Massinger, in his "City Madam," 1658, uses this word in the sense of _above the law_. Perhaps Young Arthur may intend to distinguish between a civil and religious contract.]

[21] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 90.]

[22] [i.e., The _hoar_-frost.]

[23] [Old copy, _flies upon_.]

[24] [This line has been seriously corrupted, and it might be impossible to restore the true reading. The old copies have: _Ask, he knew me, a means_, &c.]

[25] [Having, however, been written and acted some years before it was printed in 1606.]

[26] _Sloughing hotcockles_ is a sport still retained among children. The diversion is of long standing, having been in use with the ancients. See Pollux, lib. ix. In the copy it is spelt _slauging_.

[27] Old copy, _which_.

[28] [So in Wybarne's "New Age of Old Names," 1609, p. 12: "But stay, my friend: Let it be first manifest that my Father left Land, and then we will rather agree at home, then suffer the Butler's Boxe to winne all." The phrase occurs again in "Ram Alley," 1611.]

[29] [So the old copy, and rightly. Forne is a contracted form of _beforne_, a good old English word. Hawkins printed _fore_.]

[30] Query, if this be not a fling at Shakespeare? See "Cymbeline." --_Hawkins_. [Scarcely, for there are two sons recovered in that play, and the incident of finding a long-lost child is not an uncommon one in the drama. We have a daughter thus found in Pericles.--_Ebsworth_.]

[31] [Some of the old copies read _make_.]

[32] Old copy, _furens_.

[33] Old copy, _lanching_.

[34] [Old copies, _is_.]

[35] [It is probably well known that on the early stage vinegar was used where there was a necessity for representing bloodshed. Compare the passage in Preston's "Cambyses," iv. 217.]

[36] Old copy, _utensilies_.

[37] Old copy, _sly_.

[38] Old copy, _soure_.

[39] [Old copy, _clear the vsuall_, &c.]

[40] "Belvidere; or, The Garden of the Muses," 8vo, 1600, in which are quoted sentences out of Spenser, Constable, and the rest, digested under a commonplace. [Another edition in 1610. It is a book of no value or interest.]

[41] [Left blank in the old copy. The ostensible editor of "Belvidere" was John Bodenham, but he is evidently not the person referred to here.]

[42] [Alluding to the device on the title of the volume.]

[43] [Two of the old copies read _swifter_.]

[44] [Some copies read _S.D_.]

[45] As the works of some of the poets here cited are become obscure, it may not be unacceptable to the reader to see a few specimens of their several abilities. Constable was esteemed the first sonneteer of his time, and the following sonnet, prefixed to King James I.'s "Poetical Exercises" was the most admired--

TO THE KING OF SCOTLAND.

"When others hooded with blind love do fly Low on the ground with buzzard Cupid's wings, A heavenly love from love of love thee brings, And makes thy Muse to mount above the sky: Young Muses be not wont to fly so high, Age school'd by time such sober ditties sings, But thy love flies from love of youthful things, And so the wings of time doth overfly. Thus thou disdain'st all worldly wings as slow, Because thy Muse with angels' wings doth leave Time's wings behind, and Cupid's wings below; But take thou heed, lest Fame's wings thee deceive, With all thy speed from fame thou canst not flee,-- But more thou flees, the more it follows thee."

[46] Lodge was a physician as well as a poet; he was the author of two plays, and eminent, in his day, for writing elegant odes, pastoral songs, sonnets, and madrigals. His "Euphues' Golden Legacy" was printed 4to, 1590, from which some suppose Shakespeare took his "As You Like It." Description of spring by Lodge--

"The earth late choak'd with showers, Is now array'd in green, Her bosom springs with flowers, The air dissolves her teen; The woods are deck'd with leaves, And trees are clothed gay, And Flora, crown'd with sheaves, With oaken boughs doth play; The birds upon the trees Do sing with pleasant voices, And chant, in their degrees, Their loves and lucky choices."

[47] Watson was contemporary with, and imitator of, Sir Philip Sydney, with Daniel, Lodge, Constable, and others, in the pastoral strain of sonnets, &c. Watson thus describes a beautiful woman--

"Her yellow locks exceed the beaten gold, Her sparkling eyes in heav'n a place deserve. Her forehead high and fair, of comely mould; Her words are music all, of silver sound. Her wit so sharp, as like can scarce be found: Each eyebrow hangs, like Iris in the skies, Her eagle's nose is straight, of stately frame, On either cheek a rose and lily lies, Her breath is sweet perfume or holy flame; Her lips more red than any coral stone, Her neck more white than aged swans that moan: Her breast transparent is, like crystal rock, Her fingers long, fit for Apollo's lute, Her slipper such, as Momus dare not mock; Her virtues are so great as make me mute: What other parts she hath I need not say, Whose face alone is cause of my decay."

[48] [This passage is a rather important piece of evidence in favour of the identity of the poet with the physician.]

[49] [Sir] John Davis [author of "Nosce Teipsum," &c.]

[50] Old copy, _sooping_.

[51] Lock and Hudson were the Bavius and Maevius of that time. The latter gives us this description of fear--

"Fear lendeth wings to aged folk to fly, And made them mount to places that were high; Fear made the woful child to wail and weep, For want of speed on foot and hands to creep."

[Hudson, however, enjoyed some repute in his time, and is known as the translator from Du Bartas of the "History of Judith," 8vo, 1584. Lock published in 1597 a volume containing an English version of "Ecclesiastes" and a series of sonnets.]

[52] John Marston, a bold and nervous writer in Elizabeth's reign: the work here censured was, no doubt, his "Scourge of Villanie, 3 Books of Satyrs," 1598.

[53] Marlowe's character is well marked in these lines: he was an excellent poet, but of abandoned morals, and of the most impious principles; a complete libertine and an avowed atheist. He lost his life in a riotous fray; for, detecting his servant with his mistress, he rushed into the room with a dagger in order to stab him, but the man warded off the blow by seizing Marlowe's wrist, and turned the dagger into his own head: he languished some time of the wound he received, and then died, [in] the year 1593.--_A. Wood_.

[54] [Omitted in some copies.]

[55] [Omitted in some copies.]

[56] Churchyard wrote Jane Shore's Elegy in "Mirror for Magistrates," 4to, [1574. It is reprinted, with additions, in his "Challenge," 1593.]

[57] Isaac Walton, in his "Life of Hooker," calls Nash a man of a sharp wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry pen. His satirical vein was chiefly exerted in prose; and he is said to have more effectually discouraged and nonplussed Penry, the most notorious anti-prelate, Richard Harvey the astrologer, and their adherents, than all serious writers who attacked them. That he was no mean poet will appear from the following description of a beautiful woman--

"Stars fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes, Her bright brow drives the sun to clouds beneath, Her hairs' reflex with red streaks paint the skies, Sweet morn and evening dew falls from her breath."

[58] Ital. _stocco_, or long rapier.

[59] A tusk.

[60] [Some copies read _turne_.]

[61] [John Danter, the printer. Nash, it will be remembered, was called by Harvey _Danter's man_, because some of his books came from that press. See the next scene.]

[62] [A few corrections have been ventured upon in the French and Latin scraps, as the speaker does not appear to have been intended to blunder.]

[63] [Old copies, _procures_.]

[64] [Old copies, _thanked_.]

[65] [Old copies, _Fly--revengings_.]

[66] [Old copy, _gale_.]

[67] [Old copy, _gracis_.]

[68] [Old copy, _filthy_.]

[69] [Old copies, _seat_.]

[70] [In the old copy the dialogue is as usual given so as to make utter nonsense, which was apparently not intended.]

[71] [Furor Poeticus apostrophises Apollo, the Muses, &c., who are not present.]

[72] [Old copy, _Den_.]

[73] [Alluding to the blindness of puppies.]

[74] [Man.]

[75] [Old copy, _skibbered_.]

[76] [i.e., my very mate.]

[77] [In old copy this line is given to Phantasma.]

[78] [i.e., _face_. Old copy, _race_.]

[79] [Rent or distracted. A play is intended on the double meaning of the word.]

[80] [So in the old copy, being an abbreviation, _rhythmi causâ_, of Philomusus.]

[81] [Old copy, _Mossy_; but in the margin is printed _Most like_, as if it was an afterthought, and the correction had been stamped in.]

[82] [Old copy, _playing_.]

[83] _No_ omitted.

[84] [This is the old mythological tradition inverted.]

[85] The bishop's examining chaplain, so called from apposer. In a will of James I.'s reign, the curate of a parish is to appose the children of a charity-school. The term _poser_ is still retained in the schools at [St Paul's,] Winchester and Eton. Two Fellows are annually deputed by the Society of New College in Oxford and King's College in Cambridge to appose or try the abilities of the boys who are to be sped to the fellowships that shall become vacant in the ensuing year.

[86] [The old copy gives this to the next act and scene; but Amoretto seems to offer the remark in immediate allusion to what has just passed. After all, the alteration is not very vital, as, although a new act and scene are marked, Academico and Amoretto probably remain on the stage.]

[87] Good.

[88] [Old copy, _caches_. A _rache_ is a dog that hunts by scent wild beasts, birds, and even fishes; the female is called a _brache_.]

[89] [See Halliwell's "Dictionary," i. 115.]

[90] [He refers to Amoretto himself.]

[91] [Halliwell, in his "Dictionary," _v. rheum (s.)_, defines it to mean _spleen, caprice_. He does not cite it as a verb. I suppose the sense here to be _ruminating_.]

[92] Old copy, _ravished_.

[93] [A play on _personage_ and _parsonage_, which were formerly interchangeable terms, as both had originally one signification.]

[94] [Queen Elizabeth was born September 7, 1533; not her birthday, therefore, but her accession (17th November 1558), at the death of her sister Mary, is referred to by Immerito and Sir Raderic. Elizabeth died March 24, 1602-3. Inasmuch as there is this special reference in "The Return from Parnassus" to the Queen's day, and not to King James's day, we have a certain evidence that the play was written by or before the end of 1602-3. See also what may be drawn from the reference to the siege of Ostend, 1601-4, at the close of act iii. sc. 3 _post_ --additional evidence for 1602.--_Ebsworth_.]

[95] [Old copy, _I tooke of_, which seems nonsense.]

[96] [So old copy. Hawkins altered the word unnecessarily to _thatched_.]

[97] [Bespeaketh. Old copies, _rellish_.]

[98] Old copy, _bites a lip_.

[99] [So in old copy, but should we not read _London?--Ebsworth_.]

[100] [There are three references to Ostend in this play. The town bore a siege from 1601 to 1604, when it surrendered by capitulation. The besieged lost 50,000 men, and the Spaniards still more. The expression, "He is as glad as if he had taken Ostend," surely proves that this play was written after the beginning of 1601 and the commencement of the siege. It does not prove it to have been written after 1604, but, I think, strongly indicates the contrary.--_Ebsworth_. Is it not possible that the passage was introduced into the play when printed, and was not in the original MS.?]

[101] [So the old copies. Hawkins altered it to _delicacies_.]

[102] [Poor must be pronounced as a dissyllable.]

[103] [From _marry_ to _terms_ is omitted in one of the Oxford copies and in Dr Ingleby's.]

[104] [Old copy, _puppet_.]

[105] [One of the copies at Oxford, and Dr Ingleby's, read _nimphs_. Two others misprint _mips_.]

[106] [Old copy, _wail_.]

[107] Old copy, _and_.

[108] [Both the Oxford copies read _teate_.]

[109] [Both the Oxford copies have _beare_.]

[110] [Some of the copies, _break_.]

[111] To _moot_ is to plead a mock cause; to state a point of law by way of exercise, a common practice in the inns of court.

[112] Old copy, _facility_.

[113] [Old copy, _high_.]

[114] [A slight departure from Ovid.]

[115] To _come off_ is equivalent to the modern expression to _come down_, to pay sauce, to pay dearly, &c. In this sense Shakespeare uses the phrase in "Merry Wives of Windsor," act iv. sc. 6. The host says, "They [the Germans] shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay, I'll sauce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turned away my other guests. They must come off; I'll sauce them." An eminent critic says to _come off_ is to go scot-free; and this not suiting the context, he bids us read, they must _compt off_, i.e., clear their reckoning.

[116] Old copy, _Craboun_.

[117] [Talons.]

[118] _Gramercy_: great thanks, _grand merci_; or I thank ye, _Je vous remercie_. In this sense it is constantly used by our first writers. A very great critic pronounces it an obsolete expression of surprise, contracted from _grant me mercy_; and cites a passage in "Titus Andronicus" to illustrate his sense of it; but, it is presumed, that passage, when properly pointed, confirms the original acceptation--

CHIRON. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius, He hath some message to deliver us.

AARON. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.

BOY. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus-- And pray the Roman gods confound you both. [_Aside_.

DEMETRIUS. _Gramercy_, lovely Lucius; what's the news?

BOY. That you are both decipher'd (that's the news) For villains mark'd with rape. [_Aside_] May it please you, My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me The goodliest weapon of his armoury, To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome: for so he bid me say; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well. And so I leave you both--like bloody villains. [_Aside_.

--Hanmer's 2d edit., act iv. sc. 2. [The text is the same in Dyce's 2d edit., vi. 326-7.]

[119] "Poetaster," act v. sc. 3. [Gifford's edit. ii. 524-5, and the note.]

[120] [So in the old copy Kemp is made, perhaps intentionally, to call Studioso. See also _infrá_, p. 198.]

[121] [See Kemp's "Nine Daies Wonder," edit. Dyce, ix.]

[122] _Sellenger's round_, corrupted from St Leger, a favourite dance with the common people.

[123] Old copy reads--

"As you part in _kne_

KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _sice kne_," &c.

The genuine reading, it is presumed, is restored to the text--

"As your part in _cue_.

KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _size cue_," &c.

A pun upon the word _cue_, which is a hint to the actor to proceed in his part, and has the same sound with the letter _q_, the mark of a farthing in college buttery-books. To _size_ means to _battle_, or to be charged in the college accounts for provisions. [A _q_ is so called because it is the initial letter of _quadrans_, the fourth part of a penny.]

[124] This seems to be quoted from the first imperfect edition of "The Spanish Tragedy;" in the later (corrected) impression it runs thus--

"What outcries pluck me from my naked bed, And chill," &c.

--[v. 54.]

[125] [Old copy points this sentence falsely, and repeats _thing_.]

[126] Old copy, _woe_.

[127] [Old copy, _birds_. Perhaps, however, the poet may have meant _swans_.]

[128] Old copy, _sooping_.

[129] [I think this is much more likely to be an allusion to Shakespeare, than the passage in the prologue to which Hawkins refers.--_Ebsworth_.]

[130] [Old copy, _some_.]

[131] [There were several Greek _literati_ of this name. Amoretto's page, personating his master, is so nicknamed by the other, who personates Sir Raderic--unless the passage is corrupt.]

[132] [Old copy, _Irenias_.]

[133] [Old copy, _Nor_.]

[134] [Old copy, _we have_.]

[135] [Old copy, _run_. Mr Ebsworth's correction.]

[136] Old copy, _cluttish_.

[137] Old copy, _trus_.

[138] One of the old copies reads _repay'st_.

[139] Old copy, _seeling_.

[140] This play is not divided into acts.

[141] [Cadiz.]

[142] [Shear-penny.]

[143] [Extortion.]

[144] [Old copies, _waves_.]

[145] [Old copy, _fates to friend_.]

[146] [Old copy, _springold_.]

[147] [Old copy, as before, _springold_.]

[148] [Old copy, _doff off_.]

[149] [Old copy, _wat'ry_.]

[150] [Resound.]

[151] Edit. 1606 has: _Mi Fortunate, ter fortunate Venus_. The 4to of 1623 reads: _Mi Fortunatus, Fortunate Venter_.

[152] [Intend.]

[153] She means to say eloquence, and so it stands in the edition of 1623.

[154] [Robin Goodfellow.]

[155] [See p. 286.]

[156] [This must allude to some real circumstance and person.]

[157] [Attend.]

[158] [Bergen-op-Zoom.]

[159] [Old copy, _our_.]

[160] [Lap, long. See Nares, edit. 1859, _v. Lave-eared_.]

[161] [Old copy, _seas_.]

[162] [Orcus.]

[163] [Worried.]

[164] [An answer to a summons or writ. Old copy, _retourner_.]

[165] [This most rare edition was very kindly lent to me by the Rev. J.W. Ebsworth, Moldash Vicarage, near Ashford.]

[166] [Cromwell did not die till September 3, 1658, a sufficient reason for the absence of the allusion which Reed thought singular.]

[167] [i.e., The human body and mind. _Microcosmus_ had been used by Davies of Hereford in the same sense in the title of a tract printed in 1603, as it was afterwards by Heylin in his "Microcosmus," 1621, and by Earle in his "Microcosmography," 1628.]

[168] _Skene_ or _skane: gladius, Ensis brevior.--Skinner_. Dekker's "Belman's Night Walk," sig. F 2: "The bloody Tragedies of all these are onely acted by the women, who, carrying long knives or _skeanes_ under their mantles, doe thus play their parts." Again in Warner's "Albion's England," 1602, p. 129--

"And Ganimaedes we are," quoth one, "and thou a prophet trew: And hidden _skeines_ from underneath their forged garments drew, Wherewith the tyrant and his bawds with safe escape they slew."

--See the notes of Mr Steevens and Mr Nichols on "Romeo and Juliet," act ii. sc. 4.

[169] The edition of 1657 reads, _red buskins drawn with white ribband. --Collier_.

[170] Musical terms. See notes on "Midsummer's Night's Dream," vol. iii. p. 63, and "King Richard III." vol. vii. p. 6, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_.

[171] A metaphor drawn from music, more particularly that kind of composition called a _Ground_, with its _Divisions_. Instead of _relish_, I would propose to read _flourish_.--_S.P_.

[172] Mr Steevens supposes this to be a musical term. See note on "Richard II." act ii. sc. 1--

"The setting sun and music at the close."

[173] Fr. for whistlings.--_Steevens_.

[174] i.e., Petitionary.--_Steevens_.

[175] [Altered by Mr Collier to _girls_; but _gulls_ is the reading of 1607.]

[176] _Like an ordinary page, gloves, hamper_--so the first edition; but as the two last words seem only the prompter's memoranda, they are omitted. They are also found in the last edition.--_Collier_.

[177] Ready.

[178] Graceful. See Mr Malone's note on "Coriolanus," act ii. sc. 1.

[179] [Edits., _blasting_.] I would propose to read the _blushing childhood_, alluding to the ruddiness of Aurora, the _rosy morn_, as in