SCENE I. [3012

_Enter_ Merchant [VENTUREWELL] _and_ HUMPHREY.

_Vent._ And how, faith, how goes it now, son Humphrey?

_Hum._ Right worshipful, and my beloved friend And father dear, this matter ’s at an end.

_Vent._ ’T is well; it should be so. I’m glad the girl Is found so tractable.

_Hum._ Nay, she must whirl 5 From hence (and you must wink; for so, I say, The story tells,) to-morrow before day.

_Wife._ George, dost thou think in thy conscience now ’t will be a match? Tell me but what thou think’st, sweet rogue. Thou seest 10 the poor gentleman, dear heart, how it labours and throbs, I warrant you, to be at rest! I’ll go move the father for ’t.

_Cit._ No, no; I prithee, sit still, honeysuckle; thou ’lt spoil all. If he deny him, I’ll bring (15) half-a-dozen good fellows myself, and in the shutting[3013] of an evening, knock ’t up, and there’s an end.

_Wife._ I’ll buss thee for that, i’ faith, boy. Well, George, well, you have been a wag in (20) your days, I warrant you; but God forgive you, and I do with all my heart.

_Vent._ How was it, son? You told me that to-morrow Before day-break, you must convey her hence.

_Hum._ I must, I must; and thus it is agreed: Your daughter rides upon a brown-bay steed, 26 I on a sorrel, which I bought of Brian, The honest host of the Red roaring Lion, In Waltham situate. Then, if you may, Consent in seemly sort; lest, by delay, 30 The Fatal Sisters come, and do the office, And then you’ll sing another song.

_Vent._ Alas, Why should you be thus full of grief to me, That do as willing as yourself agree To any thing, so it be good and fair? 35 Then, steal her when you will, if such a pleasure Content you both; I’ll sleep and never see it, To make your joys more full. But tell me why You may not here perform your marriage?

_Wife._ God’s blessing a’ thy soul, old man! (40) I’ faith, thou art loth to part true hearts. I see ’a has her, George; and I’m as glad on ’t!— Well, go thy ways, Humphrey, for a fair-spoken man; I believe thou hast not thy fellow within the walls of London; an I should say the (45) suburbs too, I should not lie.—Why dost not rejoice with me, George?

_Cit._ If I could but see Ralph again, I were as merry as mine host, i’ faith.

_Hum._ The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare— 50 Help me, O Muses nine! Your daughter sware A foolish oath, and more it was the pity; Yet no one but myself within this city Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance 54 Shall meet him, were he of the noble science;[3014] And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear? Truly, I cannot tell, unless it were For her own ease; for, sure, sometimes an oath, Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth; And this it was she swore, never to marry 60 But such a one whose mighty arm could carry (As meaning me, for I am such a one) Her bodily away, through stick and stone, Till both of us arrive, at her request, 64 Some ten miles off, in the wild Waltham-forest.

_Vent._ If this be all, you shall not need to fear Any denial in your love: proceed; I’ll neither follow, nor repent the deed.

_Hum._ Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more, And twenty more good nights,—that makes three-score! _Exeunt_ [_severally_]. 70

[SCENE II.][3015]

_Enter_ MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT _and her son_ MICHAEL.

_Mist. Mer._ Come, Michael; art thou not weary, boy?

_Mich._ No, forsooth, mother, not I.

_Mist. Mer._ Where be we now, child?

_Mich._ Indeed, forsooth, mother, I cannot (5) tell, unless we be at Mile-End. Is not all the world Mile-End, mother?

_Mist. Mer._ No, Michael, not all the world, boy; but I can assure thee, Michael, Mile-End is a goodly matter: there has been a pitch-field,[3016] (10) my child, between the naughty Spaniels[3017] and the Englishmen; and the Spaniels ran away, Michael, and the Englishmen followed: my neighbor Coxstone was there, boy, and kill’d them all with a birding-piece.[3018] 15

_Mich._ Mother, forsooth—

_Mist. Mer._ What says my white boy?[3019]

_Mich._ Shall not my father go with us too?

_Mist. Mer._ No, Michael, let thy father go snick-up;[3020] he shall never come between a (20) pair of sheets with me again while he lives; let him stay at home, and sing for his supper, boy. Come, child, sit down, and I’ll show my boy fine knacks, indeed. [_They sit down: and she takes out a casket._] Look here, Michael; here’s a ring, and here’s a brooch, and here’s a (26) bracelet, and here’s two rings more, and here’s money and gold by th’ eye,[3021] my boy.

_Mich._ Shall I have all this, mother?

_Mist. Mer._ Ay, Michael, thou shalt have (30) all, Michael.

_Cit._ How likest thou this, wench?

_Wife._ I cannot tell; I would have Ralph, George; I’ll see no more else, indeed, la; and I pray you, let the youths understand so 35 much by word of mouth; for, I tell you truly, I’m afraid a’ my boy. Come, come, George, let’s be merry and wise: the child’s a fatherless child; and say they should put him into a strait pair of gaskins,[3022] ’t were worse than (40) knot-grass;[3023] he would never grow after it.

_Enter_ RALPH, Squire [TIM], _and_ Dwarf [_George_].

_Cit._ Here’s Ralph, here’s Ralph!

_Wife._ How do you do, Ralph? you are welcome, Ralph, as I may say. It’s a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid; we are thy friends, Ralph; the gentlemen will praise thee, Ralph, if thou play’st thy part with audacity. (47) Begin, Ralph, a’ God’s name!

_Ralph._ My trusty squire, unlace my helm; give me my hat. Where are we, or what desert may this be? 50

_George._ Mirror of knighthood, this is, as I take it, the perilous Waltham-down; in whose bottom stands the enchanted valley.

_Mist. Mer._ Oh, Michael, we are betray’d, we are betray’d! Here be giants! Fly, boy! fly, boy, fly! 56 _Exit with_ MICHAEL [_leaving the casket_].

_Ralph._ Lace on my helm again. What noise is this? A gentle lady, flying the embrace Of some uncourteous knight! I will relieve her. Go, squire, and say, the Knight that wears this Pestle 60 In honour of all ladies, swears revenge Upon that recreant coward that pursues her; Go, comfort her, and that same gentle squire That bears her company.

_Tim._ I go, brave knight. [_Exit._]

_Ralph._ My trusty dwarf and friend, reach me my shield; 65 And hold it while I swear. First, by my knighthood; Then by the soul of Amadis de Gaul, My famous ancestor; then by my sword The beauteous Brionella[3024] girt about me; By this bright burning Pestle, of mine honour The living trophy; and by all respect 71 Due to distressed damsels; here I vow Never to end the quest of this fair lady And that forsaken squire till by my valour I gain their liberty!

_George._ Heaven bless the knight 75 That thus relieves poor errant gentlewomen! _Exeunt._

_Wife._ Ay, marry, Ralph, this has some savour in ’t; I would see the proudest of them all offer to carry his books after him. But, George, I will not have him go away so soon; I shall be sick if he go away, that I shall. Call Ralph (81) again, George, call Ralph again; I prithee, sweetheart, let him come fight before me, and let’s ha’ some drums and some trumpets, and let him kill all that comes near him, an thou lov’st me, George! 86

_Cit._ Peace a little, bird: he shall kill them all, an they were twenty more on ’em than there are.

_Enter_ JASPER.

_Jasp._ Now, Fortune, if thou be’st not only ill, 90 Show me thy better face, and bring about Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length, And stand. This is our place of meeting, If love have any constancy. Oh, age Where only wealthy men are counted happy! 95 How shall I please thee, how deserve thy smiles, When I am only rich in misery? My father’s blessing and this little coin Is my inheritance; a strong revenue! From earth thou art, and to the earth I give thee: [_Throws away the money._] There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air 101 Breeds me a fresher fortune.—How! illusion? _Spies the casket._ What, hath the devil coin’d himself before me? ’T is metal good, it rings well; I am waking, And taking too, I hope. Now, God’s dear blessing 105 Upon his heart that left it here! ’T is mine; These pearls, I take it, were not left for swine. _Exit_ [_with the casket_].

_Wife._ I do not like that this unthrifty youth should embezzle away the money; the poor gentlewoman his mother will have a heavy heart for it, God knows. 111

_Cit._ And reason good, sweetheart.

_Wife._ But let him go; I’ll tell Ralph a tale in’s ear shall fetch him again with a wanion,[3025] I warrant him, if he be above ground; and besides, George, here are a number of sufficient (116) gentlemen can witness, and myself, and yourself, and the musicians, if we be call’d in question. But here comes Ralph, George; thou shalt hear him speak as he were an emperal.[3026]

[SCENE III.][3027]

_Enter_ RALPH _and_ Dwarf [GEORGE].

_Ralph._ Comes not sir squire again?

_George._ Right courteous knight, Your squire doth come, and with him comes the lady, _Enter_ MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT, MICHAEL, _and_ Squire [TIM]. For and[3028] the Squire of Damsels, as I take it.

_Ralph._ Madam, if any service or devoir 4 Of a poor errant knight may right your wrongs, Command it; I am prest[3029] to give you succour; For to that holy end I bear my armour.

_Mist. Mer._ Alas, sir, I am a poor gentlewoman, and I have lost my money in this forest!

_Ralph._ Desert, you would say, lady; and not lost 10 Whilst I have sword and lance. Dry up your tears, Which ill befits the beauty of that face, And tell the story, if I may request it, Of your disastrous fortune.

_Mist. Mer._ Out, alas! I left a thousand (15) pound, a thousand pound, e’en all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon the sight of your mastership, you lookt so grim, and, as I may say it, saving your presence, more like a giant than a mortal man. 20

_Ralph._ I am as you are, lady; so are they; All mortal. But why weeps this gentle squire?

_Mist. Mer._ Has he not cause to weep, do you think, when he hath lost his inheritance?

_Ralph._ Young hope of valour, weep not; I am here 25 That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear Upon his coward head, that dares deny Distressed squires and ladies equity. I have but one horse, on which shall ride This fair lady behind me, and before, 30 This courteous squire: fortune will give us more Upon our next adventure. Fairly speed Beside us, squire and dwarf, to do us need! _Exeunt._

_Cit._ Did not I tell you, Nell, what your man would do? By the faith of my body, wench, (35) for clean action and good delivery, they may all cast their caps at him.[3030]

_Wife._ And so they may, i’ faith; for I dare speak it boldly, the twelve companies[3031] of London cannot match him, timber for timber.[3032] Well, George, an he be not inveigled by some (41) of these paltry players, I ha’ much marvel: but, George, we ha’ done our parts, if the boy have any grace to be thankful.

_Cit._ Yes, I warrant thee, duckling. 45

[SCENE IV.][3033]

_Enter_ HUMPHREY _and_ LUCE.

_Hum._ Good Mistress Luce, however I in fault am For your lame horse, you’re welcome unto Waltham; But which way now to go, or what to say, I know not truly, till it be broad day.

_Luce._ Oh, fear not, Master Humphrey; I am guide 5 For this place good enough.

_Hum._ Then, up and ride; Or, if it please you, walk, for your repose; Or sit, or, if you will, go pluck a rose;[3034] Either of which shall be indifferent To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent 10 Is so entangled ever to your will, As the poor harmless horse is to the mill.

_Luce._ Faith, an you say the-word, we ’ll e’en sit down, And take a nap.

_Hum._ ’Tis better in the town, Where we may nap together; for, believe me, To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me. 16

_Luce._ You’re merry, Master Humphrey.

_Hum._ So I am, And have been ever merry from my dam.

_Luce._ Your nurse had the less labour.

_Hum._ Faith, it may be. Unless it were by chance I did beray[3035] me. 20

_Enter_ JASPER.

_Jasp._ Luce! dear friend Luce!

_Luce._ Here, Jasper.

_Jasp._ You are mine.

_Hum._ If it be so, my friend, you use me fine. What do you think I am?

_Jasp._ An arrant noddy.

_Hum._ A word of obloquy! Now, by God’s body, I’ll tell thy master; for I know thee well. 25

_Jasp._ Nay, an you be so forward for to tell, Take that, and that; and tell him, sir, I gave it: And say, I paid you well. [_Beats him._]

_Hum._ Oh, sir, I have it. And do confess the payment! Pray, be quiet.

_Jasp._ Go, get [you] to your night-cap and the diet, 30 To cure your beaten bones.

_Luce._ Alas, poor Humphrey; Get thee some wholesome broth, with sage and comfrey;[3036] A little oil of roses and a feather To ’noint thy back withal.

_Hum._ When I came hither, Would I had gone to Paris with John Dory![3037]

_Luce._ Farewell, my pretty nump; I am very sorry 36 I cannot bear thee company.

_Hum._ Farewell: The devil’s dam was ne’er so bang’d in hell. _Exeunt_ LUCE _and_ JASPER.

_Wife._ This young Jasper will prove me another thing, a’ my conscience, an he may be suffered. George, dost not see, George, how ’a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a’ folks, (42) as he were a dragon? Well, if I do not do his lesson[3038] for wronging the poor gentleman, I am no true woman. His friends that brought him up might have been better occupied, i-wis, than ha’ taught him these fegaries:[3039] he’s e’en in (47) the high way to the gallows, God bless him!

_Cit._ You’re too bitter, cony; the young man may do well enough for all this. 50

_Wife._ Come hither, Master Humphrey; has he hurt you? Now, beshrew his fingers for ’t! Here, sweetheart, here’s some green ginger for thee. Now, beshrew my heart, but ’a has peppernel[3040] in ’s head, as big as a pullet’s egg! Alas, sweet lamb, how thy temples (56) beat! Take the peace on him,[3041] sweetheart, take the peace on him.

_Cit._ No, no; you talk like a foolish woman: I’ll ha’ Ralph fight with him, and swinge him up well-favour’dly.—Sirrah boy, come hither. (_Enter_ Boy.) Let Ralph come in and fight (62) with Jasper.

_Wife._ Ay, and beat him well; he’s an unhappy[3042] boy. 65

_Boy._ Sir, you must pardon; the plot of our play lies contrary; and ’t will hazard the spoiling of our play.

_Cit._ Plot me no plots! I’ll ha’ Ralph come out; I’ll make your house too hot for you else.

_Boy._ Why, sir, he shall; but if any thing fall out of order, the gentlemen must pardon us. 72

_Cit._ Go your ways, goodman boy! [_Exit_ Boy.] I’ll hold[3043] him a penny, he shall have his bellyful of fighting now. Ho, here comes Ralph! No more![3044] 76

[SCENE V.][3045]

[HUMPHREY _manet._] _Enter_ RALPH, MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT, MICHAEL, Squire [TIM], _and_ Dwarf [GEORGE].

_Ralph._ What knight is that, squire? Ask him if he keep The passage, bound by love of lady fair, Or else but prickant.[3046]

_Hum._ Sir, I am no knight, But a poor gentleman, that this same night Had stolen from me, on yonder green, 5 My lovely wife, and suffered (to be seen Yet extant on my shoulders) such a greeting, That whilst I live I shall think of that meeting.

_Wife._ Ay, Ralph, he beat him unmercifully, Ralph; an thou sparest him, Ralph, I would (10) thou wert hang’d.

_Cit._ No more, wife, no more.

_Ralph._ Where is the caitiff-wretch hath done this deed? Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed Upon the quest of this injurious knight.— 15 And thou, fair squire, repute me not the worse, In leaving the great venture of the purse And the rich casket, till some better leisure.

_Enter_ JASPER _and_ LUCE.

_Hum._ Here comes the broker hath purloin’d my treasure.

_Ralph._ Go, squire, and tell him I am here, 20 An errant knight-at-arms, to crave delivery Of that fair lady to her own knight’s arms. If he deny, bid him take choice of ground, And so defy him.

_Tim._ From the Knight that bears The Golden Pestle, I defy thee, knight, 25 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. 30

_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 stirrups, (35) and gave the Knight of the calf-skin such a knock [_Knocks_ RALPH _down_.] that he forsook his horse, and down he fell: and then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his helmet——”

_Hum._ Nay, an my noble knight be down so soon, 40 Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run. _Exeunt_ 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._ 45

_Wife._ Sure the devil (God bless us!) is in this springald![3047] Why, George, didst ever see such a fire-drake?[3048] I am afraid my boy’s miscarried: if he be, though he were Master Merrythought’s son a thousand times, if there be any law in (50) England, I ’ll make some of them smart for’t.

_Cit._ No, no; I have found out the matter, sweetheart; 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 in (55) 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.

[SCENE VI.][3049]

_Enter_ RALPH, MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT, MICHAEL, Squire [TIM], _and_ Dwarf [GEORGE].

_Wife._ Oh, husband, here’s Ralph again!—Stay, Ralph, let me speak with thee. How dost thou, Ralph? Art thou not shrewdly[3050] hurt?—The foul great lungies[3051] laid unmercifully on thee: there’s some sugar-candy for (5) 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’er 10 come in my shop more.

_Mist. Mer._ Truly Master Knight of the Burning Pestle, I am weary.

_Mich._ Indeed, la, mother, and I am very hungry. 15

_Ralph._ Take comfort, gentle dame, and you fair squire; For in this desert 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’er to leave you. 20

_Wife._ Well said, Ralph!—George, Ralph was ever comfortable,[3052] was he not?

_Cit._ Yes, duck.

_Wife._ I shall ne’er forget him. When we had lost our child, (you know it was stray’d almost, (25) alone, to Puddle-Wharf, and the criers were abroad for it, and there it had drown’d itself but for a sculler.) Ralph was the most comfortablest to me: “Peace, mistress,” says he, “let it go; I ’ll get you another as good.” (30) Did he not, George, did he not say so?

_Cit._ Yes, indeed did he, mouse.

_George._ I would we had a mess of pottage and a pot of drink, squire, and were going to bed!

_Tim._ Why, we are at Waltham town’s (35) end, and that’s the Bell Inn.

_George._ Take courage, valiant knight, damsel, and squire! I have discovered, not a stone cast off, An ancient castle, held by the old knight Of the most holy order of the Bell, 40 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, hight Chamberlino, who will see 45 Our beds prepar’d, and bring us snowy sheets, Where never footman stretch’d his butter’d hams;[3053] The second, hight Tapstero, who will see Our pots full filled, and no froth therein; The third, a gentle squire, Ostlero hight, 50 Who will our palfreys slick with wisps of straw, And in the manger put them oats enough, And never grease their teeth with candle-snuff.[3054]

_Wife._ That game dwarf’s a pretty boy, but the squire’s a groutnol.[3055] 55

_Ralph._ Knock at the gates, my squire, with stately lance. [TIM _knocks at the door._]

_Enter_ TAPSTER.

_Tap._ Who ’s there?—You’re welcome, gentlemen: will you see a room?

_George._ Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, this is the Squire (60) Tapstero.

_Ralph._ Fair Squire Tapstero, I a wandering knight, Hight of the Burning Pestle, in the quest Of this fair lady’s casket and wrought purse, Losing myself in this vast wilderness, 65 Am 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. 70

_Tap._ 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? 75

_Wife._ Why, George, shall Ralph beat nobody again? Prithee, sweetheart, let him.

_Cit._ So he shall, Nell; and if I join with him, we’ll knock them all.

[SCENE VII.][3056]

_Enter_ HUMPHREY _and_ Merchant [VENTUREWELL.]

_Wife._ Oh, George, here ’s Master Humphrey again now, that lost Mistress Luce, and Mistress Luce’s father. Master Humphrey will do somebody’s errand, I ’ll warrant him.

_Hum._ Father, it’s true in arms I ne’er shall clasp her; 5 For she is stoln away by your man Jasper.

_Wife._ I thought he would tell him.

_Vent._ 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. 10 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. Shall I tell you true? Look on my shoulders, they are black and blue. Whilst to and fro fair Luce and I were winding, 15 He came and basted me with a hedge-binding.[3057]

_Vent._ 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. 20

_Vent._ Mean time I will go talk with Jasper’s father. _Exeunt_ [_severally_].

_Wife._ George, what wilt thou lay with me now, that Master Humphrey has not Mistress Luce yet? Speak, George, what wilt thou lay with me? 25

_Cit._ No, Nell; I warrant thee Jasper is at Puckeridge[3058] with her by this.

_Wife._ Nay, George, you must consider Mistress Luce’s feet are tender: and besides ’t is dark; and, I promise you truly, I do not see (30) how he should get out of Waltham-forest with her yet.

_Cit._ Nay, cony, what wilt thou lay with me, that Ralph has her not yet?

_Wife._ I will not lay against Ralph, honey, (35) because I have not spoken with him. But look, George, peace! here comes the merry old gentleman again.

[SCENE VIII.][3059]

_Enter old_ MERRYTHOUGHT.

_Mer._ [_sings_.] When it was grown to dark midnight, And all were fast asleep, In came Margaret’s grimly ghost, And stood at William’s feet. I have money, and meat, and drink beforehand, (5) till to-morrow at noon: why should I be sad? Methinks I have half-a-dozen jovial spirits within me! [_Sings._] I am three merry men, and three merry men! To what end should any man be sad in this (10) world? Give me a man who when he goes to hanging cries, Troul[3060] the black bowl to me! and a woman that will sing a catch in her travail! I have seen a man come by my door (15) 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 half a year after, and have spied that man’s head upon London-bridge.[3061] ’T is vile: never (20) trust a tailor that does not sing at his work; his mind is of nothing but filching.

_Wife._ Mark this, George; ’t is worth noting: Godfrey my tailor, you know, never sings, and he had fourteen yards to make this gown: 25 and I ’ll be sworn, Mistress Penistone the draper’s wife had one made with twelve.

_Mer._ [_sings._] ’T is mirth that fills the veins with blood, More than wine, or sleep, or food; Let each man keep his heart at ease, 30 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 35 Into fevers, gouts, or rheums, Or ling’ringly his lungs consumes, Or meets with aches in the bone, Or catarrhs or griping stone; But contented lives for aye; 40 The more he laughs, the more he may.

_Wife._ Look, George; how sayest thou by this, George? Is’t not a fine old man?—Now, God’s blessing a’ thy sweet lips!—When wilt thou be so merry, George? Faith, thou art (45) the frowning’st little thing, when thou art angry, in a country.

_Enter_ Merchant [VENTUREWELL].

_Cit._ Peace, cony; thou shalt see him taken down too, I warrant thee. Here’s Luce’s father come now. 50

_Mer._ [_sings._] As you came from Walsingham, From that holy land, There met you not with my true love By the way as you came?

_Vent._ Oh, Master Merrythought, my daughter’s gone! 55 This mirth becomes you not; my daughter’s gone!

_Mer._ [_sings._] Why, an if she be, what care I? Or let her come, or go, or tarry.

_Vent._ Mock not my misery; it is your son (Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him) 60 Has stoln my only joy, my child, away.

_Mer._ [_sings._] He set her on a milk-white steed, And himself upon a grey; He never turn’d his face again, But he bore her quite away. 65

_Vent._ Unworthy of the kindness I have shown To thee and thine! too late I well perceive Thou art consenting to my daughter’s loss.

_Mer._ Your daughter! what a stir ’s here wi’ your daughter? Let her go, think no more (70) 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.

_Vent._ Oh, might I behold her once again, 75 And she once more embrace her aged sire!

_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. [_Sings._] She cares not for her daddy, nor 81 She cares not for her mammy, For she is, she is, she is, she is My lord of Lowgave’s lassy.

_Vent._ For this thy scorn I will pursue that son 85 Of thine to death.

_Mer._ Do; and when you ha’ kill’d him, [_Sings._] Give him flowers enow, palmer, give him flowers enow; Give him red, and white, and blue, green, and yellow.

_Vent._ I’ll fetch my daughter——

_Mer._ I’ll hear no more a’ your daughter; it spoils my mirth. 91

_Vent._ I say, I’ll fetch my daughter.

_Mer._ [_sings._] Was never man for lady’s sake, Down, down, Tormented as I, poor Sir Guy, 95 De derry down, For Lucy’s sake, that lady bright, Down, down, As ever men beheld with eye, De derry down. 100

_Vent._ I’ll be reveng’d, by Heaven! _Exeunt_ [_severally_].

_Music._

_Wife._ How dost thou like this, George?

_Cit._ Why, this is well, cony; but if Ralph were hot once, thou shouldst see more.

_Wife._ The fiddlers go again, husband. 105

_Cit._ Ay, Nell; but this is scurvy music. I gave the whoreson gallows money, and I think he has not got me the waits of Southwark. If I hear ’em not anon, I’ll twinge him by the ears.—You musicians, play _Baloo_! 110

_Wife._ No, good George, let’s ha’ _Lachrymae_!

_Cit._ Why, this is it, cony.

_Wife._ It’s all the better, George. Now, sweet lamb, what story is that painted upon the cloth? The Confutation of St. Paul? 115

_Cit._ No, lamb; that’s Ralph and Lucrece.

_Wife._ Ralph and Lucrece! Which Ralph? Our Ralph?

_Cit._ No, mouse; that was a Tartarian.[3062]

_Wife._ A Tartarian! Well. I would the (120) fiddlers had done, that we might see our Ralph again!