Part 56

=Previous Editions and the Present Text.=--Two editions of this play were published in 1599: one for Joseph Hunt and William Ferbrand; the other for Ferbrand alone (in same place of business). From the variations in spelling and text which characterize the Ferbrand quarto and are evidently intended for improvements, and from the fact that Ferbrand was still alone when, in 1600, he published another play, _Look About You_, I conclude that the edition printed during the period of partnership was the earlier of the two. It will be indicated in the notes to the present text as Q 1. Of Q 1 a copy is to be found in the British Museum (162. d. 55). Of Q 2, published by Ferbrand alone, there are two copies in the Bodleian, one formerly owned by Malone, the other by Douce. Q 2 furnishes the more careful text. That it was made, however, not from manuscript, but from Q 1, is evidenced by the retention of occasional printers' errors and oddities characteristic of the earlier edition. Dyce, in his edition (Dy.) for the Percy Society, 1841, followed Q 1, with occasional readings from Q 2 and silent emendations. This edition, with modernized spelling, is included in Hazlitt's _Dodsley_, Vol. VII. (H.). Mr. Havelock Ellis's edition of the play (E.), with acts, scenes, and modernized spelling, for the Mermaid Series (_Nero and Other Plays_, 1888), appears to be based upon H. The present text is that of Q 2 (Bodl. Malone 184), with such substitutes from Q 1 as are indicated in the footnotes.

CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY.

FOOTNOTES:

[1580] Nos. 1, 2, 4, 7, 9, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19, 20, 22.

[1581] _Catalogue of the MSS. and Muniments of Alleyn's College of God's Gift at Dulwich_, Lond.: 1881, pp. 157-162. See also H. B. Wheatley, _John Payne Collier_; Lond.: 1884, p. 61.

[1582] Collier says this name was added "in a different hand to indicate" the author.

[1583] Witnesses.

[1584] Nos. 18, 21, 23, 24 are consecutive on p. 94, and in Henslowe's writing, but with Porter's signature after 24.

[1585] After this follows an item, p. 149, to the effect that the "boocke of the spencers" had helped Chettle to pay off "xˢ of a debt with the companye."

[1586] The whole of this acknowledgment is in Porter's handwriting.

[1587] British Museum, C. 39, b. 21.

[1588] Heber (Bibl. Heber), Pt. IV., No. 2872, in B. M.

[1589] British Museum: Add. MS., 24487-92, Vol. II. 302.

[1590] _Fasti_, I. 284.

[1591] Boase and Clark, Vol. II., Pt. 1, p. 147.

[1592] As above, p. 145.

[1593] Douce, in a note in the unique copy in the Bodleian, says that according to the date of the print by Cecill, Weever was twenty-three in 1599. The epigram in which Weever says that he is not yet twenty may therefore have been written as early as 1596.

[1594] Mermaid Series, _Porter_, p. 90.

[1595] With this opinion I find that Mr. Bayne agrees, _D. N. B_. Art., _Porter_.

[1596] Hunter, II, 300, and _Hist. Reg. Univ. Oxford_, 1888.

[1597] Boase and Clark, Vol. II., Pt. 2, p. 170.

[1598] _Alex._ was acted fifteen times during the next six months, _That Will Be_ twelve times. The _Woman_ ran for four months and was acted ten times. _Alex._ brought in almost as much as the others combined.

[1599] Henslowe, p. 78. Fleay conjecturally identifies it with the _Challenge for Beauty_.

[1600] Henslowe, pp. 123, 128; May 16, and July 18, 1598.

[1601] Henslowe, p. 101.

[1602] _Two A. W. A._, Pt. II., £18 5_s._; _The Spencers_, £30 10_s._ Properties rarely cost more than £15.

[1603] Henslowe, p. 129, August 26, October 28.

[1604] £18 5_s._, if we may assume (as Mr. Fleay does) that the entries, pp. 143-144, of January 26 and February 1, refer to this play.

[1605] _Sic._: Henslowe, p. 130.

[1606] Not the other way around as Collier thinks (Henslowe, p. 146, _n._) for _Edw. II._ had been in print since 1594.

[1607] Henslowe, pp. 130, 146. Cf. the advance from £10 8_s._ on May 27, 1599, to £16 12_s._ on June 3, the day after Dekker and Chettle's _Agamemnon_ was licensed and probably first acted; and the advance from £3 14_s._ on October 27, 1599, to £8 16_s._, the week ending November 3 (Henslowe, p. 152), during which the successful _Sʳ John Oldcastell_ had "ferste" been played.

[1608] But, of course, we cannot with certainty attribute the increase of April 16 to _The Spencers_ alone. It may have proceeded, in part, from the revival of _Alex. and Lodowick_, for the properties required by which Henslowe had, on March 31, advanced £5 to Juby. Henslowe had, moreover, obtained license during March for the _4 Kynges_, _Brute Grensbillde_, and "four other plays" (pp. 146, 147).

[1609] pp. 82-91.

[1610] Title-page of _E. M. i. H_., edited by B. J., 1616.

[1611] _Diary_, p. 276.

[1612] p. 124.

[1613] Notice the résumé of the action in the speeches of Goursey and Sir Raph, Sc. xiv., ll. 277-289, the "crossing of true love." I am pleased to find that in this conjecture, which I had imagined to be new, I have been anticipated by Mr. Fleay, _Chron. Engl. Drama._ 2, 163.

[1614] Halliwell-Phillips assigns _Palladis Tamia_ to the early part of 1598, but there are no notes in the _S. R._ to aid us in the investigation. Mr. Fleay assigns it to November, 1598.

THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF _the two angry women_ of Abington.

With the humorous mirth of _Dicke Coomes_ and _Nicholas Prouerbes_, two Seruingmen.

_As it was lately playde by the right Honorable_ the Earle of Nottingham, Lord high Admirall his seruants

By _Henry Porter_ Gent.

[VIGNETTE]

_Imprinted at London for William Ferbrand_, and are to be solde at his shop at the corner of Colman streete neere Loathbury.

1599.

The Names of the Speakers[1615]

M. GOURSEY. MIST. GOURSEY. M. BARNES. MIST. BARNES. FRANKE GOURSEY. PHILLIP [BARNES]. BOY. MALL BARNES. DICK COOMES. HODGE. NICHOLAS PROVERBS. SIR RAPH SMITH. [LADY SMITH.] WILL, _Sir Raphes man_.

FOOTNOTES:

[1615] First in Q 2.

The Prologue

Gentlemen, I come to yee like one that lackes and would borrow, but was loath to aske least hee should be denied: I would aske, but I would aske to obtaine; O would I knewe that manner of asking! To beg were base, and to cooche low and to carry an humble shew of entreatie were too dog-like, that fawnes on his maister to get a bone from his trencher: out, curre! I cannot abide it to put on the shape and habit of this new worlds new found beggars, mistermed souldiers, as thus; 'Sweet gentlemen, let a poore scholler implore and exorate[1616] that you would make him rich in the possession of a mite of your favours, to keep him a true man in wit, and to pay for his lodging among the Muses! so God him helpe, he is driven to a most low estate: tis not unknowne what service of words he hath been at; hee lost his lims in a late conflict of floute; a brave repulse and a hot assault it was, he doth protest, as ever he saw since hee knewe what the report of a volley of jestes were; he shall therefore desire you'--A plague upon it, each beadle disdained would whip him from your companie. Well, gentlemen, I cannot tell howe to get your favours better then by desert: then the worse lucke, or the worse wit, or some what, for I shall not now deserve it. Welcome[1617] then, I commit my selfe to my fortunes, and your contents; contented to dye, if your severe judgements shall judge me to be stung to death with the adders hisse.

FOOTNOTES:

[1616] Qtos., _exerate_.

[1617] Q 1, 'Well.'

The pleasant Comedy of the _two angry Women of_ Abington

[Scene First. _Abington. Near Master Barneses House: The Orchard_[1618]]

_Enter_ MASTER GOURSEY _and his wife, and_ MASTER BARNES _and his wife, with their two sonnes, and their two servants_.

_Maister Goursey._ Good maister Barnes, this entertaine of yours, So full of courtesie and rich delight, Makes me misdoubt my poore ability In quittance of this friendly courtesie.

_M. Bar._ O master Goursey, neighbour amitie 5 Is such a jewell of high reckoned worth, As for the attaine of it what would not I Disburse, it is so precious in my thoughts!

_M. Gou._ Kinde sir, neere dwelling amity indeed Offers the hearts enquiry better view 10 Then love thats seated in a farther soyle: As prospectives[1619] the[1620] neerer that they be Yeeld better judgement to the judging eye; Thinges seene farre off are lessened in the eye, When their true shape is seene being hard by. 15

_M. Bar._ True, sir, tis so; and truely I esteeme Meere[1621] amity, familiar neighbourhood, The cousen germaine unto wedded love.

_M. Gou._ I,[1622] sir, thers surely some aliance twixt them, For they have both the off-spring from the heart: 20 Within the hearts bloud ocean still are found Jewels of amity and jemmes of love.

_M. Bar._ I, master Goursey, I have in my time Seene many shipwracks of true honesty; But incident such dangers ever are 25 To them that without compass sayle so farre: Why, what need men to swim when they may wade? But leave this talke, enough of this is said: And, master Goursey, in good faith, sir, wellcome;-- And, mistresse Goursey, I am much in debt 30 Unto your kindnes that would visit me.

_Mi. Gou._ O master Barnes, you put me but in minde Of that which I should say; tis we that are Indebted to your kindness for this cheere: Which debt that we may repay, I pray lets have 35 Sometimes your company at our homely house.

_Mi. Bar._ That, mistresse Goursey, you shall surely have; Heele[1623] be a bolde guest I warrant ye, And boulder too with you then I would have him.

_Mis. Gou._ How doe ye meane he will be bolde with me? 40

_Mi. Bar._ Why, he will trouble you at home, forsooth, Often call in, and aske ye how ye doe; And sit and chat with you all day till night, And all night too, if he might have his will.

_M. Bar._ I, wife, indeed, I thanke her for her kindnes; 45 She hath made me much good cheere passing that way.

_Mi. Bar._ Passing well done of her; she is a kinde wench.-- I thanke ye, mistresse Goursey, for my husband; And if it hap your husband come our way A hunting or such ordinary sportes, 50 Ile do as much for yours as you for mine.

_M. Gou._ Pray doe, forsooth.--Gods Lord, what meanes the woman? She speakes it scornefully: i faith I care not; Things are well spoken, if they be well taken.-- [_Aside._] What, mistresse Barnes, is it not time to part? 55

_Mis. Bar._ Whats a clocke, sirra?

_Nicholas._ Tis but new strucke one.

_M. Gou._ I have some busines in the towne by three.

_M. Bar._ Till then lets walke into the orchard, sir. What, can you play at tables?[1624] 60

_M. Gou._ Yes, I can.

_M. Bar._ What, shall we have a game?

_M. Gou._ And if you please.

_M. Bar._ I faith, content; weele spend an hower so.-- Sirra, fetch the tables.[1625] 65

_Nic._ I will, sir. _Exit._

_Phil._ Sirra Franke, whilst they are playing heere, Weele to the greene to bowles.

_Fra._ Phillip, content.--Coomes, come hyther, sirra: When our fathers part, call us upon the greene.-- 70 Phillip, come, a rubber,[1626] and so leave.

_Phil._ Come on. _Exeunt_ [PHILLIP _and_ FRANCIS].

_Coom._ Sbloud, I doe not like the humour of these springals; theil spend all their fathers good at gamming. But let them trowle the bowles upon the greene; Ile trowle the bowles in the buttery by the leave of God and maister Barnes: and his men be good fellows, so it is; if they be not, let them goe snick up.[1627] _Exit._ 77

_Enter_ NICHOLAS _with the tables_.

_M. Bar._ So, set them downe.-- Mistresse Goursey, how doe you like this game?

_Mi. Gou._ Well, sir. 80

_M. Bar._ Can ye play at it?

_Mis. Gou._ A little, sir.

_M. Bar._ Faith, so can my wife.

_M. Gou._ Why, then, master Barnes, and if you please, Our wives shall try the quarrell twixt us two, 85 And weele looke on.

_M. Bar._ I am content.--What, woman,[1628] will you play?

_Mis. Gou._ I care not greatly.

_Mis. Bar._ Nor I, but that I thinke sheele play me false.

_M. Gou._ Ile see she shall not. 90

_Mis. Bar._ Nay, sir, she will be sure you shall not see, You of all men shall not marke her hand; She hath such close conveyance in her play.

_M. Gou._ Is she so cunning growne? Come, come, lets see.

_Mis. Gou._ Yea, mistris Barnes, will ye not house your jests, 95 But let them rome abroad so carelesly? Faith, if your jealious tongue utter another, Ile crosse ye with a jest, and ye were my mother.-- [_Aside._] Come, shall we play?

_Mis. Bar._ I, what shall we play a game? 100

_Mis. Gou._ A pound a game.

_M. Gou._ How, wife?

_Mis. Gou._ Faith, husband, not a farthing lesse.

_M. Gou._ It is too much; a shilling were good game.

_M_[_is_]. _Gou._ No, weell be ill huswives once; 105 You have oft been ill husbands: lets alone.

_M. Bar._ Wife, will you play so much?

_Mis. Bar._ I would be loath to be so franke a gaimster As mistresse Goursey is; and yet for once Ile play a pound a game aswell as she. 110

_M. Bar._ Go to, youle have your will. _Offer to goe from them._

_Mis. Bar._ Come, ther's my stake.

_Mis. Gou._ And ther's mine.

_Mis. Bar._ Throw for the dice. Ill luck! they are yours.

_M. Bar._ Master Goursey, who sayes that gamings bad, 115 When such good angels[1629] walke twixt every cast?

_M. Gou._ This is not noble sport, but royall play.

_M. Bar._ It must be so where royals walke so fast.

_Mis. Bar._ Play right, I pray.

_Mi. Gou._ Why, so I doe. 120

_Mis. Bar._ Where stands your man?

_Mis. Gou._ In his right place.

_Mis. Bar._ Good faith, I thinke ye play me foule an ace.

_M. Bar._ No, wife, she playes ye true.

_Mis. Bar._ Peace, husband, peace; ile not be judged by you. 125

_Mis. Gou._ Husband, master Barnes, pray both goe walke; We cannot play, if standers by doe talke.

_M. Gou._ Well, to your game; we will not trouble ye.

[GOURSEY _and_ BARNES] _goe from them_.

_Mi. Gou._ Where stands your man now?

_Mi. Bar._ Doth he not stand right? 130

_Mi. Gou._ It stands betweene the pointes.

_Mi. Bar._ And thats my spight. But yet me thinkes the dice runnes much uneven, That I throw but dewes ase and you eleven.

_Mis. Gou._ And yet you see that I cast downe the hill. 135

_Mi. Bar._ I, I beshrew ye, tis not with my will.

_Mis. Gou._ Do ye beshrew me?

_Mi. Bar._ No, I beshrew the dice, That turne you up more at once then me at twise.

_Mi. Gou._ Well, you shall see them turne for you anon. 140

_Mi. Bar._ But I care not for them when your game is done.

_Mi. Gou._ My game! what game?

_Mi. Bar._ Your game, your game at tables.

_Mi. Gou._ Well, mistresse, well, I have red Æsops fables, And know your morrals meaning well enough. 145

_Mi. Bar._ Loe, you'l be angry now! heres good stuffe.

[_Re-enter_ GOURSEY _and_ BARNES.]

_M. Gour._ How now, woman?[1630] who hath wonne the game?

_Mi. Gou._ No body yet.

_M. Bar._ Your wife's the fairest for't.[1631]

_Mi. Bar._ I, in your eye. 150

_Mi. Gou._ How do you meane?

_Mi. Bar._ He holds you fairer for't then I.

_Mi. Gou._ For what, forsooth?

_Mi. Bar._ Good gamster, for your game.

_M. Bar._ Well, try it out; t'is all but in the bearing.[1632] 155

_Mi. Bar._ Nay, if it come to bearing, shee'l be best.

_Mi. Gou._ Why you'r as good a bearer as the rest.

_Mi. Bar._ Nay, thats not so; you beare one man too many.

_Mi. Gou._ Better doe so then beare not any.

_Mi. Ba._ Beshrew me, but my wives jestes grow too bitter; 160 Plainer speeches for her were more [fit]ter:[1633] Malice lyes inbowelled in her tongue, And new hatcht hate makes every jest a wrong. [_Aside._]

_Mi. Go._ Looke ye, mistresse, now I hit yee.

_Mi. Bar._ Why, I, you never use to misse a blot,[1632] 165 Especially when it stands so faire to hit.

_Mi. Gou._ How meane ye, mistresse Barnes?

_Mi. Ba._ That mistresse Gourse's in the hitting vaine.

_Mi. Gou._ I hot[1634] your man.

_Mi. Bar._ I, I, my man, my man; but, had I knowne, 170 I would have had my man stood neerer home.

_Mi. Gou._ Why, had ye kept your man in his right place, I should not then have hit him with an ase.

_Mis. Bar._ Right, by the Lord! a plague upon the bones!

_Mi. Gou._ And a hot mischiefe on the curser too! 175

_M. Bar._ How now, wife?

_M. Gour._ Why, whats the matter, woman?

_Mi. Gou._ It is no matter: I am----

_Mis. Bar._ I, you are----

_Mi. Gou._ What am I? 180

_Mis. Bar._ Why, thats as you will be ever.

_Mis. Gou._ That's every day as good as Barneses wife.

_Mi. Bar._ And better too: then what needs al this trouble? A single horse is worse then that beares double.

_M. Bar._ Wife, go to, have regard to that you say; 185 Let not your words passe foorth the vierge of reason, But keep within the bounds of modesty, For ill report doth like a bayliffe stand, To pound the straying and the wit-lost tongue, And makes it forfeit into follies hands. 190 Well, wife, you know tis[1635] no honest part To entertaine such guests with jestes and wronges: What will the neighbring country vulgar say, When as they heare that you fell out at dinner? Forsooth,[1636] they'l call it a pot quarrell straight; 195 The best they'l name it, is a womans jangling. Go too, be rulde, be rulde.

_Mi. Bar._ Gods Lord, be rulde, be rulde! What, thinke ye I have such a babies wit, To have a rods correction for my tongue? 200 Schoole infancie; I am of age to speake, And I know when to speake: shall I be chid For such a[1637]----

_Mi. Gou._ What a? nay, mistresse, speake it out; I scorne your stopt compares: compare not me 205 To any but your equals, mistresse Barnes.

_M. Gou._ Peace, wife, be quiet.

_M. Bar._ O, perswade, perswade!-- Wife, mistresse Goursey, shall I winne your thoughts To composition of some kind effects? 210 Wife, if you love your credit, leave this strife, And come shake hands with mistresse Goursey heere.

_Mi. Ba._ Shall I shake hands? let her go shake her heeles; She gets nor hands, nor friendship at my hands: And so, sir, while I live I will take heed, 215 What guests I bid againe unto my house.

_M. Bar._ Impatient woman, will you be so stiffe In this absurdnes?[1638]

_Mi. Ba._ I am impatient now I speake; But, sir, Ile tell you more another time: 220 Go too, I will not take it as I have done. _Exit._

_Mis. Gou._ Nay, she might stay; I will not long be heere To trouble her. Well, maister Barnes, I am sorry that it was our happes to day, To have our pleasures parted with this fray: 225 I am sorrie too for all that is amisse, Especially that you are moov'de in this. But be not so, tis but a womans jarre, Their tongues are weapons, words there blowes of warre. 'Twas but a while we buffeted you saw, 230 And each of us was willing to withdraw; There was no harme nor bloudshed you did see: Tush, feare us not, for we shall well agree. I take my leave, sir.--Come, kinde harted man, That speakes his wife so faire, I, now and than; 235 I know you would not for an hundreth pound That I should heare your voyces churlish sound; I know you have a farre more milder tune Then 'Peace, be quiet, wife'; but I have done. Will ye go home? the doore directs the way; 240 But, if you will not, my dutie is to stay. [_Exit._]

_M. Bar._ Ha, ha! why, heres a right woman, is there not? They both have din'de, yet see what stomacks they have!

_M. Gou._ Well, maister Barnes, we cannot do with all:[1639] Let us be friends still. 245

_M. Bar._ O, maister Goursey, the mettell of our minds, Having the temper of true reason in them, Affoordes[1640] a better edge of argument For the maintaine of our familiar loves Then the soft leaden wit of women can; 250 Wherefore with all the parts of neighbour love I impart[1641] my selfe to maister Goursey.

_M. Gou._ And with exchange of love I do receive it: Then here weel part, partners of two curst wives.

_M. Ba._ Oh, where shall wee find a man so blest that is not?[1642] But come; your businesse and my home affaires 256 Makes me deliver that unfriendly worde Mongst friends--farewell.[1643]

_M. Gou._ Twentie farewels, sir.

_M. Bar._ But harke ye, maister Goursey; 260 Looke ye perswade at home as I will do: What, man! we must not alwayes have them foes.

_M. Go._ If I can helpe it.

_M. Bar._ God helpe, God helpe! Women are even untoward creatures still. _Exeunt._ 265

[Scene Second. _In front of Barneses House._]

_Enter_ PHILIP, FRANCIS, _and his_ BOY, _from bowling_.

_Phil._ Come on, Franke Goursey: you have good lucke to winne the game.

_Fran._ Why, tell me, ist not good, that never playd before upon your greene?

_Phil._ Tis good, but that it cost me ten good crownes; that makes it worse.[1644] 6

_Fran._ Let it not greeve thee, man; come ore to us; We will devise some game to make you win Your money backe againe, sweet Philip.

_Phil._ And that shall be ere long, and if I live: 10 But tell me, Francis, what good horses have yee, To hunt this sommer?

_Fra._ Two or three jades, or so.

_Phil._ Be they but jades?

_Fran._ No, faith; my wag string here 15 Did founder one the last time that he rid, The best gray nag that ever I laid my leg over.

_Boy._ You meane the flea bitten?

_Fran._ Good sir, the same.

_Boy._ And was the same the best that ere you rid on? 20

_Fran._ I, was it, sir.

_Boy._ I faith, it was not, sir.

_Fran._ No! where had I one so good?

_Boy._ One of my colour, and a better too.

_Fran._ One of your colour! I nere remember him; 25 One of that colour!

_Boy._ Or of that complexion.

_Fran._ Whats that ye call complexion in a horse?

_Boy._ The colour, sir.

_Fran._ Set me a colour on your jest, or I will-- 30

_Boy._ Nay, good sir, hold your hands!

_Fran._ What, shal we have it?

_Boy._ Why, sir, I cannot paint.

_Fran._ Well, then, I can;[1645] And I shall find a pensill for ye, sir. 35

_Boy._ Then I must finde the table, if you do.

_Fran._ A whoreson, barren, wicked urchen!

_Boy._ Looke how you chafe! you would be angry more, If I should tell it you.

_Fran._ Go to, Ile anger ye, and if you do not. 40