ACT V.

MATILDA, THEODORE.

MAT. I'll not refuse my uncle's courtesy, But go and see his house. I should before Have done that duty to him, but I thought My visits were not welcome, since he liv'd So close and privately.

THEO. Sweet cousin, you'll find A happy alteration in my father, And that there dwells a kind and honest soul Within his breast. Though wretched avarice, The usual fault of age, has heretofore Too much kept back the good expressions Of such-like thoughts, he now will make amends To all the world; and has begun already With his poor neighbours.

MAT. Cousin, I shall be Too bad a guest at this sad time, and bring Nothing but sorrow to my uncle's house.

THEO. You'll be yourself a welcome guest to him; And I shall think our roof exceeding happy, If it may mitigate that killing grief, Which your so solitary life too much Has nourish'd in you. Cousin, feed it not: 'Tis a disease that will in time consume you. I have already given the best advice, That my poor knowledge will afford, to ease Your troubled thoughts. If time, which Heaven allows To cure all griefs, should not have power to do it: If death of father, mother, husband, wife, Should be lamented still, the world would wear Nothing but black: sorrow alone would reign In every family that lives, and bring Upon poor mortals a perpetual night. You must forget it, cousin.

MAT. Never can I Forget my love to him.

THEO. Nor do I strive To teach you to forget that love you bear To his dear memory; but that grief which lies Wrapp'd in amongst it, and turns all to poison, Making it mortal to that soul that tastes it-- 'Tis that, sweet cousin, which I hope that time May by degrees extinguish. Will you please To walk along? My father long ere this Expects us, I am sure, and longs to see you. [_Exeunt._

EUGENY _in the_ OFFICERS' _hands_.

EUG. I blame you not at all, that by the law And virtue of your places are requir'd To apprehend me.

OFFICER. We are sorry, sir, we were enforc'd to seize you.

EUG. But I wonder What curious eye it was that search'd so far Into my secret walks, that did discover This dark abode of mine, and envied me My solitary sorrow: such a life, As I enjoy'd, a man might well afford To his most great and mortal enemy.

OFFICER. 'Twas a plain fellow, sir, that brought us hither In the king's name, and left us when we had you. But, sir, we wish you all the good we may.

EUG. I thank you, friends: I cannot tell at all Whom to suspect; nor will I further vex My thoughts in search of such a needless thing. I call to mind what once my Theodore Told me by way of a surmise; but, sure, It cannot be so foul. Shall I entreat you To carry me to old Sir Argent Scrape, My kinsman? I would only speak with him, Before I go to prison: and let one, If you can spare a man, go run for me To Master Earthworm's house, and bid his son Meet me with old Sir Argent; he lies now At my Lady Covet's house. I have about me What will reward your pains, and highly too.

OFFICER. It shall be done, as you would have it, sir.

EUG. I dare not send to fair Artemia: The sight of her and of so dear a sorrow As she would show, would but afflict me more. Perchance I may come safely off; till then I would conceal this accident from her. But fame is swiftest still, when she goes laden With news of mischief: she too soon will hear, And in her sorrow I shall doubly suffer. Thus are we fortune's pastimes: one day live Advanc'd to heaven by the people's breath, The next, hurl'd down into th' abyss of death.

_Enter_ EUPHUES, ARTEMIA.

EUPH. But are you sure 'tis hereabouts he lives? Ha! who is that? 'Tis he, and in the hands Of officers! Cousin, the mischief's done Before we come.

ART. O my dear Eugeny!

EUG. Artemia too! Ah me! she swoons! Help, help! Look up, my love! There is no fear at all For me; no danger: all is safe, and full Of hope and comfort.

EUPH. She begins to come Unto herself again.

EUG. But pray, sir, tell How came you hither, noble Euphues?

EUPH. I never knew the place; but now, by her Instructions, found it out. I came to bear Her company, and her intent of coming Was to inform you of a danger near-- Of such a monstrous mischief, as perchance You scarce can credit. Old Sir Argent Scrape, By me and by another gentleman, Was overheard to say that he had scouts, And had laid certain plots to apprehend His kinsman Eugeny, just before th' assizes. Besides, what further means he did intend, Closely to work your death, he then declar'd To the old covetous lady, whom he came A suitor to.

EUG. Prophetic Theodore, how right thou wert!

EUPH. This thing, when I had heard, I told it her, and we with speed made hither; But ere we came, the mischief was fulfill'd.

EUG. I thank you, sir, for this discovery: Howe'er I speed, pray pardon me, if I Shall by the hand of justice die your debtor. How soon from virtue and an honour'd spirit Man may receive what he can never merit! Be not thou cruel, my Artemia; Do not torment me with thy grief, and make Me die before my time: let hope a while Suspend thy sorrow; if the worst should fall, Thy sorrow would but more enfeeble me, And make me suffer faintly for thy sake.

ART. If worst should fall, my love (which heaven forfend), How could I choose but suffer?

EUPH. I will hope Your safety yet may well be wrought; and knowing Sir Argent's mind, you know what ways to trust.

ART. Good cousin, help us with thy counsel now, If thou dost love my life.

EUPH. Fear it not, cousin: If I may aid you, sir, in anything, You shall command it.

EUG. Sir, I cannot thank you So much as it deserves: this timely favour, If not in life, yet shall at least in death Endear me to you.

ART. Do not name that word, My dearest love!

EUPH. You must be speedy, sir, In all your courses now.

EUG. Then let me beg That you would meet me at my Lady Covet's. I'll ring Sir Argent Scrape so loud a peal, As shall, perchance, awake his bed-rid soul, And rouse it, though so deeply sunk in dross-- Drown'd and o'erwhelm'd with muck. Go you together, And leave me to my way.

ART. Farewell, dear love! [_Exeunt severally._

_Enter_ BARNET, LADY WHIMSEY.

BAR. Madam, 'tis sure; I know your ladyship Is so possess'd.

LADY W. I think he loves me well, And will not now start back from marrying me.

BAR. That is the happy hour he only longs for; But if so strange a thing should come to pass, Which yet I think impossible, that this Your marriage should break off, I will give back Into your hand this bond, which I receiv'd; And 'tis worth nothing, madam, as you know By the condition.

LADY W. True, I fear it not; But I durst trust you, if 'twere otherwise.

BAR. He waits the hour, when you will please to tie The happy knot with him.

LADY W. He shall no longer Wait for it now: I'll go confirm him.

BAR. But think not, gentle madam, that I shark[19] Or cheat him in it: I have to a sum Greater than this from him as good a title As right can give, though my unhappy fortunes Made me forbear the trial of my title, While his old crafty father was alive. He held from me a farm of greater value, As all the neighbours know: I then forbore it, And will do still, since by an easier way I may have satisfaction. But here comes One that has lost a marriage.

_Enter_ TRUSTY, LADY COVET.

LADY C. Tell me, Trusty, what say the feoffees?

TRUSTY. They'll say nothing, madam; Make me no answer, but that they know how To manage their own fortunes.

LADY C. All the world Conspires against me; I am quite undone!

TRUSTY. I promise you truly, madam, I believe They mean little better than plain knavery.

LADY C. Ay, 'tis too true.

LADY W. How does your ladyship? I was in hope to-day we should have seen you A joyful bride.

LADY C. Ah, madam! 'twas my folly To dream of such a thing; 'tis that has brought me To all this sorrow, and undone me quite.

LADY W. I hope not so. But, madam, I confess The marriage could have done you little good: One of your years, and then a man so old!

LADY C. O, do not mention it; I am justly punish'd.

LADY W. Pardon me, madam; I must make so bold As leave you for a while. Come, Master Barnet, Shall we go see the party?

BAR. I wait you, madam. [_Exeunt._

LADY C. My sorrow will not leave me. But, alas! 'Tis a deserved punishment I suffer For my unjust oppressions; I detain'd Scudmore's estate injuriously, and had No conscience to restore what was not mine, And now all's ta'en away! What then I would not, I cannot now perform, though I desire.

_Enter_ FREEMAN, ARTEMIA.

FREE. Fear not, Artemia, there shall no means Be left untri'd to save the gentleman. I did approve thy choice, and still will do, If fortune will consent. My Lady Covet, Are you sad still?

LADY C. Never had any woman A greater cause of sorrow, Master Freeman; For I protest it does not trouble me So much, that by this cheat I lose the power Of my estate, as that I lose all means Of charity or restitution To any person whom I wrong'd before.

FREE. Why, then, you make a true and perfect use Of such a cross, and may hereafter take True comfort from it.

LADY C. If my conscience Were satisfi'd, I could forsake the rest.

_Enter_ EUPHUES.

EUPH. My cousin, I perceive, has made more haste Hither than I; but I have seen a pageant That, in the saddest time, would make one laugh.

FREE. What, prythee?

EUPH. I have seen your neighbour Earthworm In such a mood, as you would wonder at, And all that ever knew him heretofore. He is inveighing 'gainst Sir Argent Scrape For being so basely covetous, as thus For hope of lucre to betray his kinsman: A thing that he himself would scorn as much, He does protest, as can be.

FREE. I have known It otherwise. What may not come to pass, When Earthworm is a foe to avarice?

EUPH. But he, they say, has made it good in deeds.

FREE. He has been so exceeding bountiful Now to our poor, and vows to be so still, That we may well believe he is quite chang'd, And strives to make amends for what is pass'd. He has, they say, a brave and virtuous son, Lately come home, that has been cause of all.

EUPH. It well may be: I know young Theodore. Uncle, he is of strange abilities; And to convert his father was an act Worthy of him.

_Enter_ SERVANT, _and_ SIR ARGENT _in his chair_.

SER. Madam, Sir Argent Scrape would take his leave Of you.

LADY C. When it pleases him.

SIR ARG. Get me my litter Ready presently; I will be gone. Madam, I now am come to give you loving thanks For my good cheer, and so bid you farewell. But let me tell you this, before we part: Things might have been carried another way For your own good; but you may thank yourself For what has happened now.

LADY C. If you suppose It had been for my good to marry you, You are deceiv'd; for that, in my esteem (Though once I was so foolish to give way To that ridiculous motion), had brought with it As great a misery as that which now Is fall'n upon me.

SIR ARG. How! as great a misery As to be beggar'd?

LADY C. Yes, sir, I'll assure you, I am of that opinion, and still shall be. But know, Sir Argent, though I now want pow'r To give you that which you still gap'd for, wealth, I can be charitable, and bestow Somewhat upon you that is better far.

SIR ARG. Better than wealth! what's that?

LADY C. Honest counsel. Let my calamity admonish you To make a better use of your large wealth, While you may call it yours. Things may be chang'd; For know, that hand that has afflicted me, Can find out you. You do not stand above it.

SIR ARG. I hope I shall know how to keep mine own.

EUPH. I do begin to pity the poor lady.

FREE. This has wrought goodness in her. Who are these?

_Enter_ EARTHWORM _and_ THEODORE.

My neighbour Earthworm? Lord! how he is chang'd!

EARTH. 'Twas basely done, and like a covetous wretch, I'll tell him to his face: what care I for him? I have a purse as well as he.

EUPH. How's this?

EARTH. Betray a kinsman's life to purchase wealth! O, detestable!

EUPH. O miraculous change! Do you not hear him, uncle?

EARTH. Master Freeman, happily met.

FREE. Sir, I am glad to see you.

EARTH. I have been long your neighbour, sir, but liv'd In such a fashion, as I must endeavour To make amends hereafter for, and strive To recompence with better neighbourhood.

FREE. It joys me much to see this change in you.

EARTH. Pardon my boldness, madam, that I make This intrusion.

LADY C. Y'are welcome, Master Earthworm.

EUPH. Let me be bold, then, noble Theodore, To claim our old acquaintance.

THEO. I shall think it My honour, worthy sir, to hold that name.

EARTH. Is that Sir Argent Scrape in the chair yonder?

FREE. Yes, sir.

EARTH. O, fie upon him! But soft, He will be told on't now. [EUGENY _brought in_.

SIR ARG. Ha! Eugeny! Why have they brought him hither?

EUG. I am come. Methinks these looks of mine, inhumane wretch! Though I were silent, should have power to pierce That treacherous breast, and wound thy conscience, Though it be hard and senseless as the idol Which thou ador'st, thy gold.

SIR ARG. Is this to me, kinsman, you speak?

EUG. Kinsman! Do not wrong That honest name with thy unhallowed lips. To find a name for thee and thy foul guilt, Has so far pos'd me, as I cannot make Choice of a language fit to tell thee of it. Treacherous, bloody man! that has betray'd And sold my life to thy base avarice!

SIR ARG. Who? I betray you?

EUG. Yes; can you deny it?

LADY C. I'll witness it against him, if he do. 'Twas his intent, I know.

EUPH. And so do I: I overheard his counsels.

EARTH. Out upon him, Unworthy man!

EUPH. I could e'en laugh to hear Old Earthworm chide.

EUG. But think upon the deed, Think on your own decrepit age, and know That day, by nature's possibility, Cannot be far from hence, when you must leave Those wealthy hoards that you so basely lov'd, And carry nothing with thee, but the guilt Of impious getting: then, if you would give To pious uses what you cannot keep, Think what a wretched charity it is; And know, this act shall leave a greater stain On your detested memory, than all Those seeming deeds of charity can have A pow'r to wash away: when men shall say In the next age: this goodly hospital, This house of alms, this school, though seeming fair, Was the foul issue of a cursed murder, And took foundation in a kinsman's blood. The privilege that rich men have in evil, Is, that they go unpunish'd to the devil.

SIR ARG. O! I could wish the deed undone again. Ah me! what means are left to help it now?

FREE. Sure, the old man begins to melt indeed.

EUG. Now let me turn to you, my truer friends, And take my last farewell.

_Enter_ FRUITFUL _and_ TRUSTY.

EUPH. My noble chaplain! What pranks comes he to play now? I had thought His business had been done.

FRUIT. Health to you, madam!

LADY C. How can you wish me health, that have so labour'd To ruin me in all things?

FRUIT. No, good madam; 'Twas not your ruin, but your good I sought: Nor was it to deprive you of your means, But only rectify your conscience.

FREE. How's this?

EUPH. Another fetch! this may be worth the hearing.

FRUIT. Madam, you convey'd away To three good honest men your whole estate.

LADY C. They have not prov'd so honest: I had thought I might have trusted them.

FRUIT. Then give me hearing. They, by the virtue of that deed possess'd, Have back again convey'd it all to you.

LADY C. Ha!

FRUIT. Madam, 'twas done before good witnesses, Of which your steward here was one.

TRUSTY. Most true.

FRUIT. And all the other are well-known to you. Here is the deed.

FREE. Let me peruse it, madam.

LADY C. Good Master Freeman, do.

[FREEMAN _reads it to himself_.

EUPH. What plot is this?

FRUIT. One manor only they except from hence. Which they suppose you did unjustly hold From the true heir: his name was Scudmore, madam.

LADY C. I do confess I did unjustly hold it; And since have griev'd me much, that while I might, I made not restitution.

FRUIT. He was poor, And by the law could not recover it; Therefore this means was taken. By this deed They have convey'd it hither, where it ought Of right to be: are you content with this? And all the rest of your estate is yours.

LADY C. With all my heart.

FREE. Madam, the deed is good.

LADY C. For that estate which justly is pass'd over To Scudmore's heir, I am so well content, As that, before these gentlemen, I promise To pay him back all the arrearages Of whatsoever profits I have made.

FRUIT. I thank your ladyship. Now know your chaplain, That wanted orders. [_Discovers himself._

LADY C. Master Scudmore living!

EUPH. My friend, how couldst thou keep conceal'd so long From me?

SCUD. Excuse it, noble Euphues.

ART. O happiness beyond what could be hop'd! My Eugeny is safe, and all his griefs At quiet now.

EUG. Is this a vision, A mere fantastic show, or do I see Scudmore himself alive? then let me beg Pardon from him.

SCUD. Long ago 'twas granted: Thy love I now shall seek. But though awhile For these my ends I have conceal'd myself, I ever meant to secure thee from danger.

EUG. What strange unlook'd-for happiness this day Has brought forth with it!

SCUD. To tell you by what means I was most strangely cur'd, and found a way How to conceal my life, will be too long Now to discourse of here; I will anon Relate at large. But one thing much has griev'd me, That my too long concealment has been cause Of so much sorrow to my constant love, The fair Matilda. Sir, she is your niece, Let me intreat my pardon, next to her, From you.

EARTH. You have it. Go, good Theodore, And bring her hither, but prepare her first: Too sudden apprehension of a joy Is sometimes fatal.

THEO. I'll about it gladly. [_Exit._

SIR ARG. Dear cousin Eugeny, if I yet may be Thought worthy of that name, pardon my crime, And my whole life, how short soe'er it be, Shall testify my love to be unfeigned.

EUG. I do forgive you freely. Now to you, Grave sir, in whose rich bounty it must lie, To make me happy in conferring on me So bright a jewel as Artemia, 'Tis your consent I beg.

FREE. You have it freely; Her heart I know she gave you long ago, And here I give her hand.

EUG. A richer gift Than any monarch of the world can give: Bless'd happiness? Gently my joys distil,[20] Lest you do break the vessel you should fill.

_Enter_ BARNET, DOTTEREL, LADY WHIMSEY.

EUPH. Here comes another couple to make up The day's festivity. Joy to you, madam!

LADY W. Thanks, noble Euphues.

DOT. We have tied the knot, That cannot be undone: this gentleman is witness Of it.

BAR. Yes, I saw it finish'd.

LADY W. Mistress Artemia, as I suppose, I may pronounce as much to you?

ART. You may as much as I shall wish your ladyship.

SCUD. Here comes the dearest object of my soul, In whom too much I see my cruelty, And chide myself. O, pardon me, dear love, That I too long a time have tyranniz'd Over thy constant sorrow.

MAT. Dearest Scudmore, But that my worthy cousin has prepar'd My heart for this, I should not have believ'd My flattering eyes.

SCUD. To know brave Theodore, Next to enjoying thee, was my ambition; Which now affinity hath bless'd me with.

EUG. His friendship, worthy Scudmore, is a treasure.

THEO. I shall endeavour to deserve your loves.

EARTH. Come, leave your compliments at all hands now, And hear an old man speak. I must intreat This favour from all this noble company, Especially from you, good Master Freeman, Although this be your daughter's wedding-day, That you would all be pleas'd to be my guests, And keep with me your marriage festivals. Grant my request.

FREE. 'Tis granted, sir, from me.

EUG. And so, I think, from all the company.

EARTH. Then let's be merry: Earthworm's jovial now, And that's as much as he desires from you. [_To the Pit._

FOOTNOTES:

[19] _i.e._, Collect my prey like the shark-fish. So in "Hamlet"--

"_Shark'd_ up a troop of landless resolutes."

--_Steevens._

[20] [See Introduction to this play, p. 4.]

A WOMAN NEVER VEXED.

_EDITION._

_A New Wonder, A Woman never Vext. A Pleasant Conceited Comedy: sundry times Acted: never before printed. Written by William Rowley, one of his Maiesties Servants. London, Imprinted by G. P., for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop, at the signe of the Crane in Saint Pauls Churchyard._ 1632. 4o.

DILKE'S PREFACE

(WITH ADDITIONS, &C.)[21]

This writer is ranked by the editors of the "Biographia Dramatica" in the third class of dramatic writers, and Mr Gifford justly observes it is impossible to place him higher. [Mr Collier, in a note to Rowley's "Match at Midnight," 1633, Introd., supposed that Samuel Rowley, the writer of the historical play on "Henry VIII.," 1605, might be the "Master Rowley, once a rare scholar of Pembroke Hall," mentioned by Meres ("Politeuphuia," 1598, "Anc. Crit. Essays," iii. 154), as one of the best for comedy; but Meres, who was himself a university man, would scarcely confound either Samuel or William Rowley with the _Ralph_ Rowley of Pembroke Hall, writer of certain occasional poetry now forgotten (Cooper's "Athenæ," ii. 388); and it is grossly improbable, surely, that Meres should cite Ralph Rowley as "one of the best for comedy" on the strength of such pieces as are connected with Samuel Rowley's name. Mr Collier remarks, that it appears from Henslowe's memoranda ("Diary," pp. 120, 218) that "in the very year in which Meres wrote, [Samuel Rowley] was reduced to accept the situation of a hireling at Henslowe's theatre." There is no trace of anything written by him earlier than Jan. 7, 1601-2, when he assisted William Haughton and William Borne in writing a piece called "Judas." As to William, he could scarcely have acquired any reputation so early, and what, on the whole, is most likely to have been the truth is, that Ralph Rowley composed pieces which, like those of the Earl of Oxford and others, have not survived.[22] Of the time or place of his birth, or decease, we are altogether ignorant. Of his life it is only known that he was a player. That he lived on terms of intimacy with the dramatic writers of his time is sufficiently evident from his having written in conjunction with many of them; and, if we may believe the title-page, [which we cannot, we should be able to believe that] in one[23] he received assistance from Shakespeare himself. He was a comedian, and one of the Prince's company of players; and Oldys observes, in his MSS. notes to Langbaine, on the authority of [transcripts made by Vertue from] the office books of Lord Harrington, Treasurer of the Chambers in those years, that "One William Rowley was head of the Prince's company of comedians from 1613 to 1616:" this, there can be [no] doubt, was our author; and [he continued to belong to that company till the death of James I.[24]] The tragedy of "All's Lost by Lust" (as it is better known) would perhaps have been selected in preference, but for the resemblance it bears, in _the general outline_, to the "Women beware Women" of Middleton, and the "Appius and Virginia" of Webster,[25] to either of which, in my opinion, it is inferior. On the present play Langbaine observes that the passage of the widow's finding her wedding-ring, which she dropped in crossing the Thames, in the belly of a fish which her maid bought accidently in the market, is founded either upon the story of Polycrates of Samos, as the author may read at large in Herodotus, lib. 3, _sive Thalia; or upon the like story related of one Anderson of Newcastle, by Doctor Fuller, in his "Worthies of England."_ The story here referred to is this: "A citizen of Newcastle (whose name I take to be M. Anderson) talking with a friend of his upon Newcastle bridge, and fingering his ring, before he was aware let it fall into the river; and was much troubled with the losse of it, till by a fish caught in the river that losse was repaired, and his ring restored to him." It is quite impossible, however, that our author could have had this story from Fuller's "Worthies," which was not published till many years after this drama was in print: he might, however, have found it, whence indeed Fuller himself took it (and the story of Polycrates is likewise quoted there), in the Preface to a little work called "Vox Piscis, or the Book-Fish, containing three Treatises, which were found in the belly of a Cod-fish in Cambridge Market, on Midsummer Eve last, Anno Domini 1626;" published in London in 1627. It is not noticed either by Langbaine or the editors of the "Biographia Dramatica" that this play is, in part, historical. This, however, is the case; and I have collected together, from various scattered notices in Stow and Strype, the best account I was enabled of Stephen Foster, his wife, and Alderman Brewen,[26] three of the principal persons in the drama. Sir Stephen Foster was the son of Robert Foster of London, stock-fishmonger; he was elected Sheriff of London in the year 1444, and Lord Mayor in 1454, and served as member for that city in the parliament held at Westminster in the thirteenth of Henry VI. Speaking of Ludgate, Strype says, (Append, p. 26), "There happened to be prisoner there, one Stephen Foster, who (as poor men are at this day) was a cryer at the grate, to beg the benevolent charities of pious and commiserate benefactors that passed by. As he was doing his doleful office, a rich widow of London hearing his complaint, enquired of him what would release him? To which he answered, Twenty pound; which she in charity expended; and clearing him out of prison, entertained him in her service; who, afterward falling into the way of merchandise, and increasing as well in wealth as courage, wooed his mistress, Dame Agnes, and married her.

"Her riches and his industry brought him both great wealth and honour, being afterwards no less than Sir Stephen Foster, Lord Mayor of the honourable city of London: yet whilst he lived in this great honour and dignity, he forgot not the place of his captivity; but, mindful of the sad and irksome place wherein poor men were imprisoned, bethought himself of enlarging it, to make it a little more delightful and pleasant for those who in aftertimes should be imprisoned and shut up therein. And, in order thereunto, acquainted his lady with this his pious purpose and intention, in whom likewise he found so affable and willing a mind to do good to the poor, that she promised to expend as much as he should do for the carrying on of the work; and, having possessions adjoining thereunto, they caused to be erected and built the rooms and places following, that is to say, the paper house, the porch, the watch-hall, the upper and lower lumbries, the cellar, the long ward, and the chapel for divine service; in which chapel is an inscription upon the wall, containing these words--

"_This chapel was erected and ordained for the divine worship and service of God, by the Right Honourable Sir Stephen Foster, Knight, some time Lord Maior of this honourable city, and by Dame Agnes his wife, for the use and godly exercise of the prisoners in this prison of Ludgate, Anno 1454._

" ... He likewise gave maintenance for a preaching minister," ... and "ordained what he had so built, with that little which was before, should be free for all free-men, and that they providing their own bedding should pay nothing at their departure for lodging or chamber-rent."[27]

There can be little doubt from the inscription in the chapel, that this worthy man was alive in the year 1454; it is still more certain from the following extract from Stow, that he was dead in 1463: "In the year 1463, the third of Edward the Fourth, Mathew Philip being mayor, in a common counsaile, at the request of the well-disposed, blessed, and devout woman, Dame Agnes Foster, _widow_, late wife to Stephen Foster, fishmonger, sometime mayor, for the comfort and reliefe of all the poore prisoners, certaine articles were established. _In primis_, that the new works then late edified by the same Dame Agnes, for the inlarging of the prison of Ludgate, from thenceforth should be had and taken as a parte and parcell of the saide prison of Ludgate, so that both the old and new works of Ludgate aforesaid, be one prison, gaile, keeping, and charge for evermore." To this Stow adds, "The said quadrant strongly builded of stone, by the fore-named Stephen Foster, and Agnes his wife, contayneth a large walking-place by ground, ... the like roome it hath over it for lodgings, and over all a fayre leades to walke upon, well imbattayled, all for ease of prisoners, to the ende they shoulde have lodging and water free without charge: as by certaine verses grauen in copper, and fixed on the said quadrant, I have read in forme following--

'Deuout soules that passe this way, for Stephen Foster late mayor, hartely pray, And Dame Agnes his spouse, to God consecrate, that of pitty this house made for L[=o]doners in Ludgate. So that for lodging and water prisoners here nought pay, as there keepers shall answere at dreadfull domes day.'

"This plate, and one other of his armes, taken downe with the old gate, I caused to be fixed over the entrie of the said quadrant, but the verses being unhappily turned inward to the wall, the like in effect is graven outward in prose, declaring him to be a fishmonger, because some upon a light occasion (as a maydens heade in a glasse window) had _fabuled_ him to bee a mercer, and to _have begged there_ at Ludgate." "They were both buried (Stow, p. 163, edit. 1598) at Butolph's church, Billingsgate." How far the poet has deviated from the tradition as recorded by Strype, the reader will be now as well able to decide as myself: when I speak of _the tradition_, I allude only to the circumstance of his having been confined a prisoner in Ludgate, and to his release by his wife (by his _nephew_ according to the drama); and this I do on the authority of Stow, the elder of the historians who, in his concluding remarks, refers to it as a fable. Of the charitable acts of these worthy people there can be no doubt. In relation to the character of Bruin, I find (Strype, ii. 260) that "In the year 1197, Walter Brune, a citizen of London, and Rosia his wife, founded the hospital of Our Lady, called Domus Dei, or St Mary the Spittle, without Bishopsgate in London, an house of such relief to the needy, that there was found standing at the surrender thereof nine score beds well furnished for receipt of poor people." The reader cannot fail to notice the gross anachronisms with which the plot of this drama abounds; something, however, may be said in excuse of the bringing together such men as Foster and Bruin; but the introduction of Henry III. is so wanton and unnecessary, that there can be little doubt it is an error of the printer's, and that Henry VI. is the character intended, in whose time Sir Stephen Foster lived. I did not, however, think it necessary to disturb the text; not out of respect to the quarto, for a more disgraceful work never issued from the press even of the printers of that age, but because, the circumstance having been once noticed, it becomes of little consequence. While on this subject I may just observe, that in the original this play is, with very trifling limitations, throughout printed as blank verse: by what possible rule or ear the division was made it is absolutely impossible to conceive; some scenes have without hesitation been reduced to prose; and by changing the construction of whole speeches, innumerable couplets have been restored: if yet the attentive reader shall discover passages (and that many have escaped my notice I cannot doubt), on which he would willingly exercise his skill, I can only observe that he must not make too free with the pruning knife; that it is difficult to distinguish between a licentious metre and measured prose; and that very little good dramatic dialogue of the higher walks can be found, that, with moderate torturing to the eye and ear, may not pass for such metre.

The following is a list of his dramatic works--

1. "A New Wonder," "A Woman never vext," C. 4o, 1632.

2. A Tragedy called, All's Lost by Lust. Written by William Rowley. Divers times Acted by the Lady Elizabeths Servants. And now lately by her Maiesties Servants, with great applause, at the Ph[oe]nix in Drury-Lane. 4o, 1633.

3. "A Match at Midnight," C. 4o, 1633, printed post.

4. "A Shoemaker's a Gentleman," C. 4o, 1638.

He wrote also, in conjunction with Day and Wilkins,

5. "The Travels of Three English Brothers," Sir Thomas, Sir Anthony, and Mr Robert Sherley. 4o, 1607.

With Middleton,

6. "A Fair Quarrel," C. 4o, 1617.

7. "The World toss'd at Tennis," M. 4o, 1620.

8. "The Spanish Gipsy," C. 4o, 1663.

And,

9. "The Changeling," T. 4o, 1653.

With Fletcher,

10. "The Maid of the Mill," fol. 1647.

With Massinger and Middleton,

11. "The Old Law," T. C. 4o, 1656.

With Dekker and Ford,

12. "The Witch of Edmonton," T. C. 4o, 1658.

And (it is, however, _very_ doubtful) with Shakespeare,

13. "The Birth of Merlin." T. C. 4o, 1662.

With Webster (though Webster's participation is equally problematical),

14. "A Cure for a Cuckold," C. 1661.

And,

15. "The Thracian Wonder," C. H. 4o, 1661.

And with Heywood,

16. "Fortune by Land and Sea," C. 4o, 1655.

The following are also entered in his name on the Books of the Stationers' Company--

"The Fool without Book." "A Knave in Print; or, One for Another." "The Nonesuch."[28] "The Book of the Four Honoured Loves." And, "The Parliament of Love."

In the Dramatis Personæ, prefixed to his own play of "All's Lost by Lust," the part of Jaques, a simple clownish gentleman, is said to have been personated by the poet; and in Middleton's "Inner Temple Masque," 1619, he performed the part of Plumb-porridge.

It appears from Sir H. Herbert's office book, that _one_ of the Rowleys wrote "A Match or No Match;" this is most probably our author's "Match at Midnight." Rowley wrote also a [prose] pamphlet called, "A Search for Money; or, The Lamentable Complaint for the Loss of the Wandering Knight, Monsieur L'Argent," &c., 4o, 1609;[29] [an elegy on a fellow-performer, Hugh Atwell, who died on the 25th September 1621; printed on a broadside, and two or three other poetical trifles.][30]

FOOTNOTES:

[21] [This play having been printed by Dilke, and the following one (by the same author) in Dodsley's collection, the two prefaces presented, of course, many repetitions, as well as certain mistakes. That now given (from a collation of the two) will, it is hoped, be found to contain the whole matter of both without these accidental oversights.]

[22] Malone (Sh. by Bosw. II. 172) expresses his conviction that this "rare scholar of Pembroke Hall" was neither William nor Samuel Rowley, but _Ralph_ Rowley, who became a student of Pembroke Hall in 1579, and was elected fellow in 1583.--_Collier._

[23] ["The Birth of Merlin," 1662.]

[24] [Halliwell's "New Illustrations of the Life of Shakespeare," 1875, pp. 29, 30, where a curious anecdote of him is given.]

[25] The title of "All's Lost by Lust" might, at least with equal propriety, be given to the others.

[26] [In the old copy and by Dilke the name is given as _Bruin_.]

[27] [See further Stow, edit. 1720, bk. i. p. 21.]

[28] [This and the two following plays were in Warburton's collection of MSS. dramas, and appear to have perished.]

[29] [Chalmers, and after him Dilke, confounded Samuel with William Rowley, supposing the latter to be the writer of the historical play on the reign of Henry VIII. 4o, 1605, 1613, &c.]

[30] [Hazlitt's "Handbook," in _v_.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

KING HENRY III. MOUNTFORD. PEMBROKE. ARUNDEL. CARDINAL. LORD MAYOR. OLD FOSTER. ALDERMAN BREWEN. STEPHEN, _brother to Old Foster_. ROPERT, _son to Old Foster_. SIR GODFREY SPEEDWELL, } _suitors to Jane_. INNOCENT LAMBSKIN, } RICHARD, _factor to Old Foster_. GEORGE, _factor to Brewen_. DOCTOR. HOST BOXALL. JACK, } DICK, } _Gamesters_. HUGH, } ROGER, _the clown, servant to the Widow_. KEEPER OF LUDGATE.

WIDOW, _the woman never vex'd_. MISTRESS FOSTER, _wife to Old Foster_. JANE, _daughter to Brewen_. JOAN, _servant to Widow_.

A NEW WONDER: A WOMAN NEVER VEXED.[31]