Part 16

[138] As the play was written before 1533, the clergy were still celibates, and this is only Mery-reporte's 'humour.'

[139] immediately.

[140] Explained by 'thynges wherof there is plente.'

[141] available.

[142] heard more, or others.

[143] in the same rightness.

[144] Scio (Chios).

[145] Purlieus are technically the woods adjacent to a royal forest; a chase is an unenclosed part.

[146] What on earth would it matter?

[147] dispensed with, missed.

[148] To give two pounds of wheat for grinding sixty-four.

[149] wheel.

[150] feeder of the mill.

[151] axletree.

[152] Jupiter's proclamation.

[153] making rejoice.

[154] too far at variance.

[155] given less freedom.

[156] the kingdom of saints.

[157] assembly.

[158] scatter, blow about.

[159] flying apart.

[160] murrain, plague.

[161] dispensed with.

[162] roundly, completely.

[163] the psalms appointed for the Hours of the Blessed Virgin.

[164] esteem.

[165] admit.

[166] hair-breadth.

[167] float.

[168] sent.

[169] moderate cool breezes.

[170] choir.

[171] _Sic_ in all editions.

[172] of not sufficient advantage.

[173] Indistinguishable from trifles.

[174] off.

[175] The earliest reference to a dearth of corn in the reign of Henry VIII. which I can find in Holinshed is _sub anno_ 1523, when he states that the price in London was 20 _s._ a quarter, but without assigning any cause. The reference here is, I think, clearly to the great rains of the autumn of 1527 and April and May, 1528, of which Holinshed writes that they "caused great floods and did much harme namelie in corne, so that the next yeare [1528?] it failed within the realme and great dearth ensued."

[176] one.

[177] preliminary.

[178] moderate, adjust.

[179] morass.

[180] stands still.

[181] the flat fixed stone (or bed stone) over which the turning stone, or _runner_, moved.

[182] reviling.

[183] decayed.

[184] be leaky; misprinted _belyke_ by Kitson.

[185] or _jet_ (l. 835), strut.

[186] parrot.

[187] simpletons.

[188] Jesus.

[189] trim.

[190] smart.

[191] guess.

[192] Mlle. Simper de Coquette.

[193] communicate.

[194] wanton.

[195] Cf. note on _Roister Doister_, I. iv. 12. _Merygreeke_: "But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yonder?" _Dougerie_: "With _Nobs nicebecetur miserere_ fonde." Explained by Flügel as a contraction of _Nescio quid dicitur_ = Mistress 'What's-her-name.' _Gen. Ed._

[196] At regard, _i.e._ as the object of.

[197] perils.

[198] sweeter.

[199] fetch.

[200] thee.

[201] In _The Play of Love_, Heywood writes of "bybbyll babbyll, clytter clatter."

[202] hospital, lazar-house.

[203] rubbing.

[204] casualties, chance perquisites.

[205] swing to and fro with your heels before the sheriff, as a censer is swung by a thurifer.

[206] made arrangements.

[207] once.

[208] Cardinal Wolsey suggests himself as the person most likely to be thus referred to, but if the reference of l. 636 is to the excessive rain of 1527-28, Wolsey's disgrace followed it rather too closely for the phrase "within this seven yere."

[209] Rastell ed., 'whose.'

[210] provided.

[211] Usually a mere exclamation, but here apparently as if from _non_, not.

[212] bargained for.

[213] assemblage.

[214] oyez, hearken.

[215] likely.

[216] foolish.

[217] plunder.

[218] Cf. l. 590, "meane cooles."

[219] reached.

[220] pressed, have hastened.

[221] in order.

[222] use.

[223] whole.

[224] solely.

[225] wholly.

[226] St. John's copy ends.

JOHAN JOHAN

=Previous Editions and the Present Text.=--An edition of "A Mery Play between Johan Johan, the Husbande, Tyb, his Wyfe and Syr Jhan, the Preest, attributed to John Heywood 1533,"[227] was printed at the Chiswick Press by C[harles] Whittingham "from an unique copy in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford," some time in the first half of the present century.[228] The anonymous editor prefaces it with the following brief "advertisement":--

"This is one of the six Plays attributed by our dramatic biographers to John Heywood, author of _The Four P's_ (contained in Dodsley's collection), of 'the Spider and Flie,' and of some other poems, an account of which may be found in the Third Volume of Warton's History of English Poetry. No copy of this Mery Play appears to exist except that in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, from which this is a faithful reprint. Exclusive of its antiquity and rarity, it is valuable as affording a specimen of the earliest and rudest form of our Comedy (for the Poem is shorter, & the number of the Dramatis Personæ yet fewer than those of the _Four P's_) & of the liberty with which even the Roman Catholic authors of that age felt themselves authorized to treat the established priesthood."

The Ashmolean copy (now in the Bodleian Library) can no longer be reckoned unique, another copy having been discovered in the Pepys collection at Magdalene College, Cambridge. This copy has been used in correcting the Chiswick Press text, and it may be as well to mention that the following changes, besides a good many minor ones, have been made on its authority, and are not surreptitious emendations of the present editor.

l. 4, _myche_ for _muche_; l. 27, _Whan_ for _Whyn_; l. 31, _thwak_ for _twak_; l. 89, _enrage_ for _engage_; l. 94, _But_ for _Thou_; l. 121, _thou_ for _you_; l. 129, _lyk_ for _syk_; l. 132, _to go_ for _go_; l. 137, _fare_ for _face_; l. 305, _waxe_ for _ware_; l. 335, _for I_ for _I_; l. 471, _Ye_ for _le_; l. 497, _mych_ for _much_; l. 540, _beyond_ for _beand_; l. 542, _a bevy_ for _bevy_; l. 552, _beyond_ for _beyand_; l. 581, _v_ for _ix_; l. 604, _I am_ for _am I_.

In the apportionment of ll. 240-266 between the two speakers, my predecessor, like myself, though not in the same manner, has departed from Rastell's (clearly erroneous) arrangement of the speeches, but his dislike of footnotes has caused him to omit any mention of the fact. The title-page is a representation, not a _facsimile_. There is no running head-line in the original.

ALFRED W. POLLARD.

FOOTNOTES:

[227] See Critical Essay, pp. 10, 14.

[228] My own copy has beneath the initials of a former owner the date "March 22, 1833"; that in the British Museum is assigned to 1830. I have seen it stated, but I know not on what authority, that the book appeared in 1819.

[Decoration]

A mery play

Betwene Johan Johan the husbande / Tyb his wyfe / & syr Jhān the preest

[Decoration]

A Mery Play, betwene JOHAN JOHAN, _the husbande_. TYB, _his wyfe_, & SYR JHAN, _the preest_

JOHAN JOHAN, _the Husbande_.

God spede you, maysters, everychone, Wote ye not whyther my wyfe is gone? I pray God the dyvell take her, For all that I do I can not make her, But she wyll go a gaddynge very myche 5 Lyke an Antony pyg[229] with an olde wyche, Whiche ledeth her about hyther and thyther; But, by our lady, I wote not whyther. But, by goggis[230] blod, were she come home Unto this my house, by our lady of Crome,[231] 10 I wolde bete her or that I drynke. Bete her, quotha? yea, that she shall stynke! And at every stroke lay her on the grounde, And trayne[232] her by the here[233] about the house rounde. I am evyn mad that I bete her not nowe, 15 But I shall rewarde her, hard[e]ly,[234] well ynowe; There is never a wyfe betwene heven and hell Whiche was ever beten halfe so well. Beten, quotha? yea, but what and she therof dye? Then I may chaunce to be hanged shortly. 20 And whan I have beten her tyll she smoke, And gyven her many a c.[235] stroke, Thynke ye that she wyll amende yet? Nay, by our lady, the devyll spede whyt![236] Therfore I wyll not bete her at all. 25 And shall I not bete her? no shall?[237] Whan she offendeth and doth a-mys, A i _b_ And kepeth not her house, as her duetie is? Shall I not bete her, if she do so? Yes, by cokkis[238] blood, that shall I do; 30 I shall bete her and thwak her, I trow, That she shall beshyte the house for very wo. But yet I thynk what my neybour wyll say than, He wyll say thus: "Whom chydest thou, Johan Johan?" "Mary," will I say! "I chyde my curst wyfe, 35 The veryest drab that ever bare lyfe, Whiche doth nothying but go and come, And I can not make her kepe her at home." Than I thynke he wyll say by and by,[239] "Walke her cote,[240] Johan Johan, and bete her hardely." 40 But than unto hym myn answere shal be, "The more I bete her the worse is she: And wors and wors make her I shall." He wyll say than, "bete her not at all." "And why?" shall I say, "this wolde be wyst,[241] 45 Is she not myne to chastice as I lyst?" But this is another poynt worst of all, The folkis wyll mocke me whan they here me brall;[242] But for all that, shall I let[243] therfore To chastyce my wyfe ever the more, 50 And to make her at home for to tary? Is not that well done? yes, by Saynt Mary, That is a poynt[244] of an honest man For to bete his wyfe well nowe and than. Therfore I shall bete her, have ye no drede! 55 And I ought to bete her, tyll she be starke dede. And why? by God, bicause it is my pleasure, And if I shulde suffre her, I make you sure, Nought shulde prevayle[245] me, nother staffe nor waster,[246] Within a whyle she wolde be my mayster. 60 Therfore I shall bete her by cokkes mother, Both on the tone syde and on the tother, Before and behynde; nought shall be her bote,[247] From the top of the heed to the sole of the fote. But, masters, for Goddis sake, do not entrete 65 For her, whan that she shal be bete; But, for Goddis passion, let me alone, And I shall thwak her that she shall grone: Wherfore I beseche you, and hartely you pray, And I beseche you say me not nay, 70 But that I may beate her for this ones; A ii And I shall beate her, by cokkes bones, That she shall stynke lyke a pole-kat; But yet, by goggis body, that nede nat, For she wyll stynke without any betyng, 75 For every nyght ones she gyveth me an hetyng; From her issueth suche a stynkyng smoke, That the savour therof almost doth me choke. But I shall bete her nowe, without fayle; I shall bete her toppe and tayle, 80 Heed, shulders, armes, legges, and all, I shall bete her, I trowe that I shall; And, by goggis boddy, I tell you trewe, I shall bete her tyll she be blacke and blewe. But where the dyvell trowe ye she is gon? 85 I holde a noble[248] she is with Syr Jhān; I fere I am begyled alway, But yet in faith I hope well nay; Yet I almost enrage that I ne can Se the behavour of our gentylwoman. 90 And yet, I thynke, thyther as she doth go Many an honest wyfe goth thyther also, For to make some pastyme and sporte. But than my wyfe so ofte doth thyther resorte That I fere she wyll make me weare a fether. 95 But yet I nede not for to fere nether, For he is her gossyp, that is he. But abyde a whyle, yet let me se, Where the dyvell hath our gyssypry[249] begon? My wyfe had never chylde, daughter nor son. 100 Nowe if I forbede her that she go no more, Yet wyll she go as she dyd before, Or els wyll she chuse some other place; And then the matter is in as yll case. But in fayth all these wordes be in wast, 105 For I thynke the matter is done and past; And whan she cometh home she wyll begyn to chyde, But she shall have her payment styk by her syde; For I shall order her, for all her brawlyng, That she shall repent to go a catter-wawlyng.[250] 110

[_Enter_ TYB.]

_Tyb._ Why, whom wylt thou beate, I say, thou knave?

_Johan._ Who, I, Tyb? none, so God me save.

_Tyb._ Yes, I harde the say thou woldest one bete.

_Johan._ Mary, wyfe, it was stokfysshe[251] in Temmes Strete, Whiche wyll be good meate agaynst Lent. A ii _b_ 115 Why, Tyb, what haddest thou thought that I had ment?

_Tyb._ Mary, me thought I harde the bawlyng. Wilt thou never leve this wawlyng?[252] Howe the dyvell dost thou thy selfe behave? Shall we ever have this worke, thou knave? 120

_Johan._ What! wyfe, how sayst thou? was it well gest of me That thou woldest be come home in safete, As sone as I had kendled a fyre? Come warme the, swete Tyb, I the requyre.

_Tyb._ O, Johan Johan, I am afrayd, by this lyght, 125 That I shalbe sore syk this nyght.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. By cokkis soule, nowe, I dare lay a swan That she comes nowe streyght fro Syr Johan; For ever whan she hath fatched of hym a lyk, Than she comes home, and sayth she is syk. 130

_Tyb._ What sayst thou?

_Johan._ Mary, I say, It is mete for a woman to go play Abrode in the towne for an houre or two.

_Tyb._ Well, gentylman, go to, go to.

_Johan._ Well, let us have no more debate. 135

_Tyb_ [_aside_]. If he do not fyght, chyde, and rate, Braule and fare as one that were frantyke, There is nothyng that may hym lyke.[253]

_Johan_ [_aside_]. If that the parysshe preest, Syr Jhān, Dyd not se her nowe and than, And gyve her absolution upon a bed, For wo and payne she wolde sone be deed.

_Tyb._ For goddis sake, Johan Johan, do the not displease, Many a tyme I am yll at ease. What thynkest nowe, am not I somwhat syk? 145

_Johan_ [_aside_]. Nowe wolde to God, and swete Saynt Dyryk,[254] That thou warte in the water up to the throte, Or in a burnyng oven red hote, To se an I wolde pull the out.

_Tyb._ Nowe, Johan Johan, to put the out of dout, 150 Imagyn thou where that I was Before I came home.

_Johan._ My percase,[255] Thou wast prayenge in the Churche of Poules Upon thy knees for all Chrysten soules.

_Tyb._ Nay.

_Johan._ Than if thou wast not so holy, 155 Shewe me where thou wast, and make no lye?

_Tyb._ Truely, Johan Johan, we made a pye, I and my gossyp Margery, And our gossyp the preest, Syr Jhān, A iii And my neybours yongest doughter An; 160 The preest payde for the stuffe and the makyng, And Margery she payde for the bakyng.

_Johan._ By cokkis lylly woundis,[256] that same is she, That is the most bawde hens to Coventre.

_Tyb._ What say you?

_Johan._ Mary, answere me to this: 165 Is not Syr Johan a good man?

_Tyb._ Yes, that he is.

_Johan._ Ha, Tyb, if I shulde not greve the, I have somewhat wherof I wolde meve the.[257]

_Tyb._ Well, husbande, nowe I do conject That thou hast me somewhat in suspect; 170 But, by my soule, I never go to Syr Johan But I fynde hym lyke an holy man, For eyther he is sayenge his devotion, Or els he is goynge in processyon.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. Yea, rounde about the bed doth he go, 175 You two together, and no mo; And for to fynysshe the procession, He lepeth up and thou lyest downe.

_Tyb._ What sayst thou?

_Johan._ Mary, I say he doth well, For so ought a shepherde to do, as I harde tell, 180 For the salvation of all his folde.

_Tyb._ Johan Johan!

[_Johan._] What is it that thou wolde?

_Tyb._ By my soule I love thee too too,[258] And I shall tell the, or I further go, The pye that was made, I have it nowe here, 185 And therwith I trust we shall make good chere.

_Johan._ By kokkis body that is very happy.

_Tyb._ But wotest who gave it?

_Johan._ What the dyvel rek I?

_Tyb._ By my fayth, and I shall say trewe, than The Dyvell take me, and it were not Syr Johan. 190

_Johan._ O holde the peas, wyfe, and swere no more, But I beshrewe both your hartes therfore.

_Tyb._ Yet peradventure, thou hast suspection Of that was never thought nor done.

_Johan._ Tusshe, wife, let all suche matters be, 195 I love thee well, though thou love not me: But this pye doth nowe catche harme, Let us set it upon the harth to warme.

_Tyb._ Than let us eate it as fast as we can. But bycause Syr Jhān is so honest a man, 200 I wolde that he shulde therof eate his part.

_Johan._ That were reason, I thee ensure.

_Tyb._ Than, syns that it is thy pleasure, I pray the than go to hym ryght, A iii _b_ And pray hym come sup with us to nyght. 205

_Jhan_ [_aside_]. Shall he cum hyther? by kokkis soule I was a-curst Whan that I graunted to that worde furst! But syns I have sayd it, I dare not say nay, For than my wyfe and I shulde make a fray; But whan he is come, I swere by goddis mother, 210 I wold gyve the dyvell the tone[259] to cary away the tother.

_Tyb._ What sayst?

_Johan._ Mary, he is my curate, I say, My confessour and my frende alway, Therfore go thou and seke hym by and by, And tyll thou come agayne, I wyll kepe the pye. 215

_Tyb._ Shall I go for him? nay, I shrewe me than! Go thou, and seke, as fast as thou can, And tell hym it.

_Johan._ Shall I do so? In fayth, it is not mete for me to go.

_Tyb._ But thou shalte go tell hym, for all that. 220

_Johan._ Than shall I tell hym, wotest [thou] what? That thou desyrest hym to come make some chere.

_Tyb._ Nay, that thou desyrest hym to come sup here.

_Johan._ Nay, by the rode, wyfe, thou shalt have the worshyp And the thankes of thy gest, that is thy gossyp. 225

_Tyb_ [_aside_]. Full ofte I se my husbande wyll me rate, For this hether commyng of our gentyll curate.

_Johan._ What sayst, Tyb? let me here that agayne.

_Tyb._ Mary, I perceyve very playne That thou hast Syr Johan somwhat in suspect; 230 But by my soule, as far as I conject, He is vertuouse and full of charyte.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. In fayth, all the towne knoweth better, that he Is a hore-monger, a haunter of the stewes, An ypocrite, a knave, that all men refuse; 235 A lyer, a wretche, a maker of stryfe, Better than they knowe that thou art my good wyfe.

_Tyb._ What is that, that thou hast sayde?

_Johan._ Mary, I wolde have the table set and layde, In this place or that, I care not whether. 240

_Tyb._ Than go to, brynge the trestels[260] hyther. Abyde[261] a whyle, let me put of my gown! But yet I am afrayde to lay it down, For I fere it shal be sone stolen.

[_Johan._] And yet it may lye safe ynough unstolen. 245

[_Tyb._] It may lye well here, and I lyst,-- But, by cokkis soule, here hath a dogge pyst; And if I shulde lay it on the harth bare, A iv It myght hap to be burned, or I were ware, Therfore I pray you,[262] take ye the payne 250 To kepe my gowne tyll I come agayne. But yet he shall not have it, by my fay, He is so nere the dore, he myght ron away; But bycause that ye be trusty and sure Ye shall kepe it, and it be your pleasure; 255 And bycause it is arrayde[263] at the skyrt, Whyle ye do nothyng, skrape of the dyrt.

[_Johan._] Lo, nowe am I redy to go to Syr Jhan, And byd hym come as fast as he can.

[_Tyb._] Ye, do so without ony taryeng. 260 But I say, harke! thou hast forgot one thyng; Set up the table, and that by and by.[264] Nowe go thy ways.

[_Johan._] I go shortly;[265] But se your candelstykkis be not out of the way.

_Tyb._ Come agayn, and lay the table I say; 265 What! me thynkkis, ye have sone don!

_Johan._ Nowe I pray God that his malediction Lyght on my wyfe, and on the baulde[266] preest.

_Tyb._ Nowe go thy ways and hye the! seest?

_Johan._ I pray to Christ, if my wyshe be no synne, 270 That the preest may breke his neck, whan he comes in.

_Tyb._ Now cūm again.

_Johan._ What a myschefe wylt thou, fole!

_Tyb._ Mary, I say, brynge hether yender stole.

_Johan._ Nowe go to, a lyttell wolde make me For to say thus, a vengaunce take the! 275

_Tyb._ Nowe go to hym, and tell hym playn, That tyll thou brynge hym, thou wylt not come agayn.

_Johan._ This pye doth borne here as it doth stande.

_Tyb._ Go, washe me these two cuppes in my hande.

_Johan._ I go, with a myschyefe lyght on thy face! 280

_Tyb._ Go, and byd hym hye hym a pace, And the whyle I shall all thynges amende.

_Johan._ This pye burneth here at this ende. Understandest thou?

_Tyb._ Go thy ways, I say.

_Johan._ I wyll go nowe, as fast as I may. 285

_Tyb._ How, come ones agayne: I had forgot; Loke, and there be ony ale in the pot.

_Johan._ Nowe a vengaunce and a very myschyefe Lyght on the pylde[267] preest, and on my wyfe, On the pot, the ale, and on the table, 290 The candyll, the pye, and all the rable, On the trystels, and on the stole; A iv _b_ It is moche ado to please a curst fole.

_Tyb._ Go thy ways nowe, and tary no more, For I am a hungred very sore. 295

_Johan._ Mary, I go.

_Tyb._ But come ones agayne yet; Brynge hyther that breade, lest I forget it.

_Johan._ I-wys it were tyme for to torne The pye, for y-wys it doth borne.

_Tyb._ Lorde! how my husbande nowe doth patter, 300 And of the pye styl doth clatter. Go nowe, and byd hym come away; I have byd the an hundred tymes to day.

_Johan._ I wyll not gyve a strawe, I tell you playne, If that the pye waxe cold agayne. 305

_Tyb._ What! art thou not gone yet out of this place? I had went,[268] thou haddest ben come agayn in the space: But, by cokkis soule, and I shulde do the ryght, I shulde breke thy knaves heed to nyght.

_Johan._ Nay, than if my wyfe be set a chydyng, 310 It is tyme for me to go at her byddyng. There is a proverbe, whiche trewe nowe preveth, He must nedes go that the dyvell dryveth. [_He goes to the Priest's house._] How mayster curate, may I come in At your chamber dore, without ony syn. 315