SCENE V.

RHYMEWELL, BAGSHOT, CATCHMEY, SIR CHRISTOPHER: _a song at a window, congratulating_ (_as_ _they think_) MASTER MEANWELL'S _marriage_.

1. _Whiles early light springs from the skies_ _A fairer from your bride doth rue;_ _A brighter day doth thence appear,_ _And makes a second morning there._ _Her blush doth shed_ _All o'er the bed_ _Clean shamefac'd beams,_ _That spread in streams,_ _And purple round the modest air._

2. _I will not tell what shrieks and cries,_ _What angry pishes, and what fies,_ _What pretty oaths then newly born,_ _The list'ning taper heard there sworn:_ _Whiles froward she_ _Most peevishly_ _Did yielding fight_ _To keep o'er night,_ _What she'd have proffer'd you ere morn._

3. _Fair, we know, maids do refuse_ _To grant what they do come to lose._ _Intend a conquest, you that wed;_ _They would be chastely ravished._ _Not any kiss_ _From Mistress Pris,_ _If that you do,_ _Persuade and woo:_ _Know pleasure's by extorting fed._

4. _O, may her arms wax black and blue_ _Only by hard encircling you:_ _May she round about you twine,_ _Like the easy-twisting vine;_ _And whiles you sip_ _From her full lip_ _Pleasures as new_ _As morning dew,_ _Let those soft ties your hearts combine._

SINGER. God give you joy, Master Meanwell! God give your worship good morrow!

RHYME. Come, let's be going.

CHRIS. Hold, a blow I'll have, One jerk at th' times, wrapp'd in a benediction O' th' spouse's teeming, and I'll go with you.

_A Song._

_Now thou, our future brother,_ _That shalt make this spouse a mother,_ _Spring up, and Dod's blessing on't.[224]_ _Show thy little sorrel pate,_ _And prove regenerate,_ _Before thou be brought to the font._

_May the parish surplice be_ _Cut in pieces quite for thee,_ _To wrap thy soft body about;_ _So 'twill better service do,_ _Reformed thus into_ _The state of an orthodox clout._

_When thou shalt leave the cradle,_ _And shalt begin to waddle,_ _And trudge in thy little apron;_ _May'st thou conceive a grace_ _Of half an hour's space,_ _And rejoice in thy Friday capon._

_For an error that's the flock's,_ _Name Master Paul, but urge St Knox;[225]_ _And at every reform'd dinner,_ _Let cheese come in, and preaching,_ _And by that third course teaching_ _Confirm an unsatisfi'd sinner._

_Thence grow up to hate a ring,_ _And defy an offering;_ _And learn to sing what others say._ _Let Christ-tide be thy fast,_ _And Lent thy good repast;_ _And regard not an holy-day._

_Enter_ CONSTABLE _and Assistants_.

CON. Lay hold on them! lay hold on them, I say! I'll hamper them.

CATCH. Hell take your headlong zeal! You must be jerking at the times, forsooth. I am afraid the times will 'scape, and we, The men of them, shall suffer now the scourge.

CON. Let none escape.

CHRIS. 'Twas godliness, verily: It was a hymn I warbled.

CON. Thou dost lie, It was no hymn, it was a song. Is this Your filthy rendezvous? you shall be taught Another tune.

CHRIS. I do beseech you, show Merciful cruelty, and as 'twere a kind Of pitiful hard-heartedness. I'm strong.

[_They bring in_ ANDREW _and_ PRISCILLA.

CON. I'm glad you told me so, I will provide Your ward accordingly. Drag 'em out both.

AND. Let me but send to th' ordinary.

CON. You shall not; The ord'nary hath sent to you. No bail: I will take none. I'll suffer no such sneaks As you to offend this way: it doth belong T'your betters, sir.

AND. Here's a sufficient man, I do assure you; take my word for that.

CON. This staff was made to knock down sin. I'll look There shall be no advoutry[226] in my ward, But what is honest. I'll see justice done As long as I'm in office. Come along. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[202] So Falstaff says ("First Part Henry IV.," act iii. sc. 3): "An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, _I am a pepper-corn_, a brewer's horse."

[203] A _noise_ of fiddlers is _a company or concert of them_; as in Ben Jonson's "Epicæne," act iii. sc. 3: "The smell of the venison, going through the street, will invite _one noise of fiddlers_ or other."

So in "Bartholomew Fair," act iii. sc. 6: "Cry you mercy, sir; will you buy a _fiddle_ to fill up _your noise_?"

In Marmyon's "Fine Companion," act iv. sc. 1: "He come but with a troope of wenches, and _a noyse of fidlers_; and play thee backe like Orpheus."

Again, in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1608, sig. G 2: "To bee up more earely then _a noyse of shrugging fidlers_."

And in "Miscellaneous State Papers from 1501 to 1726," vol. i. p. 87: "After the which they had a very notable banquet; the heavenly _noise_ that was there, as well with strange instruments of music as otherwise, I cannot declare."

See also the examples in Mr Steevens's note on "Henry IV., Part II.,"