Part 14

_Ralph._ Where is the Caitiff wretch hath done this deed, Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed Upon the quest of this injurious Knight. And thou fair Squire repute me not the worse, In leaving the great venture of the purse,

_Enter_ Jasper _and_ Luce.

And the rich Casket till some better leisure.

_Hum._ Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.

_Ralph._ Go, Squire, and tell him I am here, An Errant Knight at Arms, to crave delivery Of that fair Lady to her own Knights arms. If he deny, bid him take choice of ground, And so defie him.

_Squire._ From the Knight that bears _The Golden Pestle_, I defie thee Knight, Unless thou make fair restitution Of that bright Lady.

_Jasp._ Tell the Knight that sent thee He is an ass, and I will keep the wench, And knock his Head-piece.

_Ralph._ [Knight thou] art but dead, If thou recall not thy uncourteous terms.

_Wife._ Break's pate _Ralph_, break's pate _Ralph_, soundly.

_Jasp._ Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestle.

[_Snatches away his Pestle._

Shall try what temper, Sir, your Mortar's of: With that he stood upright in his stirrops, And gave the Knight of the Calve-skin such a knock, That he forsook his horse, and down he fell, And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his Helmet.

_Hum._ Nay, and my noble Knight be down so soon, Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run.

[_Exit_ Humphrey _and_ Ralph.

_Wife._ Run _Ralph_, run _Ralph_, run for thy life boy, _Jasper_ comes, _Jasper_ comes.

_Jasp._ Come _Luce_, we must have other Arms for you, _Humphrey_ and _Golden Pestle_ both adieu. [_Exeunt._

_Wife._ Sure the Devil, God bless us, is in this Springald, why _George_, didst ever see such a fire-drake, I am afraid my boy's miscarried; if he be, though he were Master _Merry-thoughts_ Son a thousand times, if there be any Law in _England_, I'll make some of them smart for't.

_Cit._ No, no, I have found out the matter sweet-heart, _Jasper_ is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchanted, he could no more have stood in _Ralph_'s hands, than I can stand in my Lord _Mayor_'s: I'll have a Ring to discover all enchantments, and _Ralph_ shall beat him yet: be no more vext, for it shall be so.

_Enter_ Ralph, Squire, Dwarfe, _Mistriss_ Merry-thought, _and_ Michael.

_Wife._ Oh Husband, here's _Ralph_ again, stay _Ralph_, let me speak with thee, how dost thou _Ralph_? art thou not shrewdly hurt? the foul great Lungies laid unmercifully on thee, there's some Sugar-candy for thee, proceed, thou shalt have another bout with him.

_Cit._ If _Ralph_ had him at the Fencing-School, if he did not make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down the School, he should ne'r come in my shop more.

_Mist. Mer._ Truly master Knight of the _Burning Pestle_, I am weary.

_Mich._ Indeed-law Mother, and I am very hungry.

_Ralph._ Take comfort gentle Dame, and [you] fair Squire. For in this Desart there must needs be plac'd Many strong Castles, held by courteous Knights, And till I bring you safe to one of those I swear by this my Order ne'r to leave you.

_Wife._ Well said _Ralph_, _George_, _Ralph_ was ever comfortable, was he not?

_Cit._ Yes Duck.

_Wife._ I shall ne'r forget him: when we had lost our child, you know it was straid almost alone, to _Puddle-wharfe_, and the Cryers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd it self but for a Sculler, _Ralph_ was the most comfortablest to me: peace Mistriss, saies he, let it go, I'll get you another as good, did he not _George_? did he not say so?

_Cit._ Yes indeed did he Mouse.

_Dwarfe._ I would we had a mess of Pottage, and a pot of Drink, Squire, and were going to bed.

_Squire._ Why we are at _Waltham_ Towns end, and that's the _Bell_ Inne.

_Dwarfe._ Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, and Squire, I have discovered, not a stones cast off, An antient Castle held by the old Knight Of the most holy Order of the _Bell_, Who gives to all Knights Errant entertain: There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd, By the white hands of his own Lady dear. He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests: The first, High Chamberlain, who will see Our beds prepar'd, and bring us snowy sheets, Where never Footman stretch'd his butter'd Hams. The second height _Tapstro_, who will see Our pots full filled, and no froth therein; The third, a gentle Squire _Ostlero_ height, Who will our Palfries slick with wisps of straw, And in the Maunger put them Oats enough, And never grease their teeth with Candle-snuffe.

_Wife._ That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's a grout-nold.

_Ralph._ Knock at the Gates my Squire, with stately Lance.

_Enter Tapster._

_Tap._ Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you see a room?

_Dwarfe._ Right courteous and valiant Knight of the _Burning_ _Pestle_, This is the Squire _Tapstro_.

_Ralph._ Fair Squire _Tapstro_, I a wandring Knight, Height of the _Burning Pestle_ in the quest Of this fair Ladies Casket, and wrought purse, Losing my self in this vast wilderness, And to this Castle well by fortune brought, Where hearing of the goodly entertain Your Knight of holy Order of the _Bell_, Gives to all Damsels, and all Errant Knights, I thought to knock, and now am bold to enter.

_Tapst._ An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome. [_Exeunt._

_Wife. George_, I would have something done, and I cannot tell what it is.

_Cit._ What is it _Nell_?

_Wife._ Why _George_, shall _Ralph_ beat no body again? prethee sweet-heart let him.

_Cit._ So he shall _Nell_, and if I joyn with him, we'll knock them all.

_Enter_ Humphrey _and_ Merchant.

_Wife._ O _George_, here's master _Humphrey_ again now, that lost Mistriss _Luce_, and Mistriss _Luce_'s Father, master _Humphrey_ will do some bodies arrant I warrant him.

_Hum._ Father, it's true in arms I ne'r shall clasp her, For she is stoln away by your man _Jasper_.

_Wife._ I thought he would tell him.

_Mer._ Unhappy that I am to lose my child: Now I begin to think on _Jasper_'s words, Who oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness, Why didst thou let her go, thou lov'st her not, That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.

_Hum._ Father forgive me, I shall tell you true, Look on my shoulders they are black and blue, Whilst too and fro fair _Luce_ and I were winding, He came and basted me with a hedge binding.

_Mer._ Get men and horses straight, we will be there Within this hour; you know the place again?

_Hum._ I know the place where he my loins did swaddle, I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle.

_Mer._ Mean time I'll go talk with _Jaspers_ Father. [_Exeunt._

_Wife. George_, What wilt thou lay with me now, that Master _Humphrey_ has not Mistriss _Luce_ yet, speak _George_ what wilt thou lay with me?

_Cit._ No _Nell_, I warrant thee, _Jasper_ is at _Puckeridge_ with her by this.

_Wife._ Nay _George_, you must consider Mistriss _Lucies_ feet are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you truly, I do not see how he should get out of _Waltham_ Forrest with her yet.

_Cit._ Nay Cunny, what wilt thou lay with me that _Ralph_ has her not yet.

_Wife._ I will not lay against _Ralph_, Honny, because I have not spoken with him: but look _George_, peace, here comes the merry old Gentleman again.

_Enter old_ Merry-thought.

_Old Mer._ When it was grown to dark midnight, And all were fast asleep, In came _Margarets_ grimly Ghost, And stood at _William_'s feet.

I have money, and meat, and drink before hand, till to morrow at noon, why should I be sad? methinks I have halfe a dozen jovial spirits within me, I am three merry men, and three merry men: To what end should any man be sad in this world? give me a man that when he goes to hanging cries troul the black boul to me: and a Woman that will sing a catch in her Travel. I have seen a man come by my door, with a serious face, in a black cloak, without a Hatband, carrying his head as if he lookt for pins in the street. I have lookt out of my window halfe a year after, and have spied that mans head upon _London Bridge_: 'tis vile, never trust a Tailor that does not sing at his work, his mind is of nothing but filching.

_Wife._ Mark this _George_, 'tis worth noting: _Godfrey_ my Tailor, you know never sings, and he had fourteen yards to make this Gown; and I'll be sworn, Mistriss _Penistone_ the Drapers Wife had one made with twelve.

_Old Mer._ 'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood, More than Wine, or Sleep, or Food, Let each man keep his heart at ease No man dies of that disease. He that would his body keep From diseases, must not weep, But whoever laughs and sings, Never [he] his body brings Into Feavers, Gouts, or Rhumes, Or lingringly his Lungs consumes: Or meets with aches in the bone, Or Catarrhs, or griping Stone: But contented lives for aye, The more he laughs, the more he may.

_Wife._ Look _George_, how sayst thou by this _George_? is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a thy sweet lips. When wilt thou be so merry _George_? Faith thou art the frowningst little thing, when thou art angry, in a Countrey.

_Enter_ Merchant.

_Cit._ Peace Conny, Thou shalt see him took down too I warrant thee: here's _Luce's_ Father come now.

_Old Mer._ As you came from _Walsingam_, from the Holy Land, there met you not with my true love by the way as you came.

_Mer._ O Master _Merry-thought_! my Daughters gone, This mirth becomes you not, my Daughter's gone.

_Old Mer._ Why an if she be, what care I? Or let her come, or go, or tarry.

_Merch._ Mock not my misery, it is your Son, Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him, Has stoln my only joy, my child away.

_Old Mer._ He set her on a milk white Steed, and himself upon a gray, He never turn'd his face again, but he bore her quite away.

_Merch._ Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn To thee, and thine: too late, I well perceive Thou art consenting to my Daughters loss.

_Old Mer._ Your Daughter, what a-stirs here wi' y'r daughter? Let her go, think no more on her, but sing loud. If both my sons were on the gallows, I would sing _down, down, down_: they fall down, and arise they never shall.

_Merch._ Oh might I behold her once again, And she once more embrace her aged sire.

_Old Mer._ Fie, how scurvily this goes: and she once more embrace her aged sire? you'll make a dog on her, will ye; she cares much for her aged sire, I warrant you. She cares not for her Daddy, nor she cares not for her Mammy. For she is, she is, she is[, she is] my Lord of _Low-gaves_ Lassie.

_Merch._ For this thy scorn I will pursue That son of thine to death.

_Old Mer._ Do, and when you ha kill'd him, Give him flowers i'now Palmer, give him flowers i'now, Give him red and white, and blue, green, and yellow.

_Merch._ I'll fetch my Daughter.

_Old Mer._ I'll hear no more o' your Daughter, it spoils my mirth.

_Merch._ I say I'll fetch my Daughter.

_Old Mer._ Was never man for Ladies sake, _down, down_, Tormented as I [poore] Sir _Guy_? _de derry down_, For _Lucies_ sake, that Lady bright, _down, down_, As ever men beheld with eye? _de derry down_.

_Merch._ I'll be reveng'd by heaven. [_Exeunt._ Finis _Act. Secund._

_Musick._

_Wife._ How dost thou like this _George_?

_Cit._ Why this is well Cunnie: but if _Ralph_ were hot once: thou shouldst see more.

_Wife._ The Fidlers go again Husband.

_Cit._ I _Nell_, but this is scurvy Musick: I gave the whoreson gallows money, and I think he has not got me the Waits of _Southwark_, if I hear him not anan, I'll twinge him by the ears.

[You] Musicians play _Baloo_.

_Wife._ No good _George_, let's ha _Lachrymæ_.

_Cit._ Why this is it Cunny.

_Wife._ It's all the better _George_: now sweet Lamb, what story is that painted upon the cloth? the confutation of Saint Paul?

_Cit._ No Lamb, that's _Ralph_ and _Lucrece_.

_Wife. Ralph_ and _Lucrece_? which _Ralph_? our _Ralph_?

_Cit._ No Mouse, that was a _Tartarian_.

_Wife._ A _Tartarian_? well, I wo'd the Fidlers had done, that we might see our _Ralph_ again.

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Jasper _and_ Luce.

_Jasp._ Come my [deere deere], though we have lost our way, We have not lost our selves: are you not weary With this nights wandring, broken from your rest? And frighted with the terror that attends The darkness of this wild unpeopled place?

_Luce._ No my best friend, I cannot either fear, Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you (The end of all my full desires) stand by me: Let them that lose their hopes, and live to languish Amongst the number of forsaken Lovers, Tell the long weary steps, and number time, Start at a shadow, and shrink up their bloud, Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet) Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him.

_Jasp._ You have caught me _Luce_, so fast, that whilst I live I shall become your faithful prisoner: And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down, And rest your body, too too delicate For these disturbances; so, will you sleep? Come, do not be more able than you are, I know you are not skilful in these Watches, For Women are no Soldiers; be not nice, But take it, sleep I say.

_Luce._ I cannot sleep. Indeed I cannot friend.

_Jasp._ Why then we'll sing, And try how that will work upon our sences.

_Luce._ I'll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep.

_Jasp._ Come little Mermaid, rob me of my heart With that inchanting voice.

_Luce._ You mock me _Jasper_.

SONG.

Jasp. _Tell me (dearest) what is Love?_

Luce. _'Tis a lightning from above,_ _'Tis an Arrow, 'tis a Fire,_ _'Tis a Boy they call desire._ _'Tis a smile_ _Doth beguile_

Jasp. _The poor hearts [o]f men that prove,_ _Tell me more, are Women true?_

Luce. _Some Love change, and so do you._

Jasp. _Are they fair, and never kind?_

Luce. _Yes, when men turn with the wind._

Jasp. _Are they froward?_

Luce. _Ever toward_ _Those that love, to love anew._

_Jasp._ Dissemble it no more, I see the God Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy Mace, Upon your eye-lids.

_Luce._ I am very heavy.

_Jasp._ Sleep, sleep, and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts: Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings, Horrors and fearful shapes: let all her dreams Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes, And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul Gives to the sences. So my charms have took. Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind. She is only fair, and constant: only kind, And only to thee _Jasper_. Oh my joyes! Whither will you transport me? let not fulness Of my poor buried hopes come up together, And over-charge my spirits; I am weak, Some say (how ever ill) the Sea and Women Are govern'd by the Moon, both ebb and flow, Both full of changes: yet to them that know, And truly judge, these but opinions are, And heresies to bring on pleasing War Between our tempers, that without these were Both void of after-love, and present fear. Which are the best of _Cupid_. O thou child! Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee, Having a love without the faults of Women, And greater in her perfect goods than men: Which to make good, and please my self the stronger, Though certainly I am certain of her love, I'll try her, that the world and memory May sing to after-times her constancy. _Luce, Luce,_ awake.

_Luce._ Why do you fright me friend, With those distempered looks? what makes your sword Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you? I prethee _Jasper_ sleep, thou art wild with watching.

_Jasp._ Come make your way to Heaven, and bid the world (With all the villanies that stick upon it) Farewell; you're for another life.

_Luce._ Oh _Jasper_. How have my tender years committed evil, (Especially against the man I love) Thus to be cropt untimely?

_Jasp._ Foolish girl, Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter That flung me from my fortune into nothing? Discharged me his service, shut the doors Upon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers, Sending me, like a boat without a mast, To sink or swim? Come, by this hand you dye, I must have life and blood to satisfie Your fathers wrongs.

_Wife._ Away _George_, away, raise the Watch at _Ludgate_, and bring a _Mittimus_ from the Justice for this desperate Villain. Now I charge you Gentlemen, see the Kings peace kept. O my heart what a varlet's this, to offer Man-slaughter upon the harmless Gentlewoman?

_Cit._ I warrant thee (sweet heart) we'll have him hampered.

_Luce._ Oh _Jasper_! be not cruel, If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly, And let not many deaths appear before me. I am a woman made of fear and love A weak, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes, They shoot me through and through. Strike I am ready. And dying still I love thee.

_Enter_ Merchant, Humphrey, _and his Men._

_Merch._ Where abouts?

_Jasp._ No more of this, now to my self again.

_Hum._ There, there he stands with Sword like martial Knight. Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight You that are wise: for were I good Sir _Bevis_, I would not stay his coming, by your leaves.

_Merc._ Sirrah, restore my daughter.

_Jasp._ Sirrah, no.

_Merch._ Upon him then.

_Wife._ So, down with him, down with him, down with him: cut him i'the leg boyes, cut him i'th' leg.

_Merc._ Come your ways Minion, I'll provide a Cage for you, you're grown so tame. Horse her away.

_Hum._ Truly I'm glad your forces have the day.

[_Exeunt manet Jasper._

_Jasp._ They are gone, and I am hurt, my Love is lost, Never to get again. Oh me unhappy! Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly! Thou hast betray'd me, Hope where art thou fled? Tell me if thou be'st any where remaining. Shall I but see my love again? Oh no! She will not dain to look upon her Butcher, Nor is [it] fit she should; yet I must venter. Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art That men adore for powerful, hear my cry, And let me loving live; or loosing dye. [_Exit_]

_Wife._ Is a gone _George_?

_Cit._ I conny.

_Wife._ Marry and let him go (sweet heart) by the faith a my body a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble (as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leaf: look a my little finger _George_, how it shakes: now in truth every member of my body is the worse for't.

_Cit._ Come, hug in mine arms sweet Mouse, he shall not fright thee any more: alass mine own dear heart how it quivers.

_Enter_ Mistris Merry-thought, Rafe, Michael, Squire, Dwar[f]e, Host, _and a_ Tapster.

_Wife._ O _Rafe_, how dost thou _Rafe_? how hast thou slept to night? has the Knight us'd thee well?

_Cit._ Peace _Nell_, let _Rafe_ alone.

_Tapst._ Master, the reckoning is not paid.

_Rafe._ Right courteous Knight, who for the orders sake Which thou hast tane, hang'st out the holy _Bell_, As I this flaming Pestle bear about, We render thanks to your puissant self, Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires, For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs, Stifned with hard atchievements in wild Desart.

_Tapst._ Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay.

_Rafe._ Thou merry Squire _Tapstero_, thanks to thee, For comforting our souls with double Jug, And if adventurous Fortune prick thee forth, Thou jovial Squire, to follow feats of Arms, Take heed thou tender every Ladies cause, Every true Knight, and every Damsel fair But spill the blood of treacherous _Sarazens_, And false inchanters, that with Magick spels, Have done to death full many a noble Knight.

_Host._ Thou valiant Knight of the _burning Pestle_, give ear to me, there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true Knight, I will not bate a penny.

_Wife. George_, I prethee tell me, must _Rafe_ pay twelve shillings now?

_Cit._ No, _Nel_, no, nothing but the old Knight is merry with _Rafe_.

_Wife._ O is't nothing else? _Rafe_ will be as merry as he.

_Rafe._ Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well, But to requite this liberal courtesie, If any of your Squires will follow Arms, He shall receive from my Heroick hand A Knig[h]thood, by the virtue of this Pestle.

_Host._ Fair Knight, I thank you for your noble offer, Therefore gentle Knight, Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.

_Wife._ Look _George_, did not I tell thee as much, the Knight of the _Bell_ is in earnest, _Rafe_ shall not be beholding to him, give him his money _George_, and let him go snick up.

_Cit._ Cap _Rafe_? no, hold your hand sir Knight of the _Bell_, there's your Money, have you any thing to say to _Rafe_ now? cap _Rafe_?

_Wife._ I would you should know it, _Rafe_ has friends that will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten times to the end of that, now take thy course _Rafe_.

_Mist. mer._ Come _Michael_, thou and I will go home to thy father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll set fellows abroad to cry our Purse and Casket: Shall we _Michael_?

_Mich._ I, I pray mother, in truth my feet are full of chilblains with travelling.

_Wife._ Faith and those chilblaines are a foul trouble, Mistris _Merry-thought_ when your youth comes home, let him rub all the soles of his feet, and his heels, and his ankles, with a Mouseskin; or if none of your [people] can catch a Mouse, when he goes to bed, let him rowl his feet in the warm embers, and I warrant you he shall be well, and you may make him put his fingers between his toes, and smell to them, it's very soveraign for his head, if he be costive.

_Mist. mer._ Master Knight of the burning Pestle, my son _Michael_, and I bid you farewell, I thank your Worship hartily for your kindness.

_Rafe._ Fare-well fair Lady, and your tender Squire. If pricking through these Desarts, I do hear Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile, Hath light upon your Casket and your Purse, I will despoil him of them and restore them.

_Mist. mer._ I thank your Worship. [_Exit with Michael._

_Rafe._ Dwarf bear my shield, Squire elevate my lance, And now farewell you Knight of holy _Bell_.

_Cit._ I, I _Rafe_, all is paid.

_Rafe._ But yet before I go, speak worthy Knight, If [ought] you do of sad adventures know, Where errant Knights may through his prowess win Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls, From endless [bonds] of steel and lingring pain.

_Host._ Sirrah go to _Nick_ the _Barber_, and bid him prepare himself, as I told you before quickly.

_Tap._ I am gone Sir. [_Exit Tapster._

_Host._ Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none But the great venture, where full many a Knight Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame, And where I would not have you loose your life, Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell.