SCENE I.

_Goldsmiths' Row._

_Enter_ Master TOUCHSTONE _and_ QUICKSILVER _at several doors_; QUICKSILVER _with his hat, pumps, short sword and dagger, and a racket trussed up under his cloak. At the middle door, enter_ GOLDING, _discovering a goldsmith's shop, and walking short turns before it_.

_To._ And whither with you now? what loose action are you bound for? Come, what comrades are you to meet withal? where's the supper? where's the rendezvous?

_Qu._ Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir----

_To._ Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir! Behind my back thou wilt swear faster than a French foot-boy, and talk more bawdily than a common midwife; and now "indeed and in very good sober truth, sir!" but if a privy search should be made, with what furniture are you rigged now? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy master, William Touchstone, goldsmith; and thou my prentice, Francis Quicksilver, and I will see whither you are running. Work upon that now. 14

_Qu._ Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation with his master's profit.

_To._ Prentices' recreations are seldom with their master's profit. Work upon that now. You shall give up your cloak, though you be no alderman. Heyday! ruffians'-hall sword, pumps, here's a racket indeed!

[TOUCHSTONE _uncloaks_ QUICKSILVER.

_Qu._ Work upon that now.

_To._ Thou shameless varlet! dost thou jest at thy lawful master, contrary to thy indentures? 23

_Qu._ Why 'sblood, sir, my mother's a gentlewoman, and my father a justice of peace and of Quorum; and though I am a younger brother and a prentice, yet I hope I am my father's son; and by God's lid, 'tis for your worship and for your commodity that I keep company. I am entertained among gallants, true;[5] they call me cousin Frank, right; I lend them moneys, good; they spend it, well. But when they are spent, must not they strive to get more, must not their land fly? and to whom? Shall not your worship ha' the refusal? Well, I am a good member of the city, if I were well considered. How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthrifts? How could gentlemen be unthrifts if their humours were not fed? How should their humours be fed but by white meat, and cunning secondings? Well, the city might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now: the gallants fall to play; I carry light gold with me; the gallants call, "Cousin Frank, some gold for silver;" I change, gain by it; the gallants lose the gold, and then call, "Cousin Frank, lend me some silver." Why---- 43

_To._ Why? I cannot tell. Seven-score pound art thou out in the cash; but look to it, I will not be gallanted out of my moneys. And as for my rising by other men's fall, God shield me! did I gain my wealth by ordinaries? no: by exchanging of gold? no: by keeping of gallants' company? no. I hired me a little shop, fought low, took small gain, kept no debt-book, garnished my shop, for want of plate, with good wholesome thrifty sentences; as, "Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;" "Light gains makes heavy purses;" "'Tis good to be merry and wise." And when I was wived, having something to stick to, I had the horn of suretyship ever before my eyes. You all know the device of the horn, where the young fellow slips in at the butt-end, and comes squeezed out at the buckall: and I grew up, and I praise providence, I bear my brows now as high as the best of my neighbours: but thou----well, look to the accounts; your father's bond lies for you: seven-score pound is yet in the rear. 62

_Qu._ Why 'slid, sir, I have as good, as proper gallants' words for it as any are in London--gentlemen of good phrase, perfect language, passingly behaved; gallants that wear socks and clean linen, and call me "kind cousin Frank," "good cousin Frank," for they know my father: and by God's lid shall I not trust 'hem?--not trust?

_Enter a_ Page _as inquiring for_ TOUCHSTONE'S _shop_.

_Go._ What do ye lack, sir? What is't you'll buy, sir?

_To._ Ay, marry sir; there's a youth of another piece. There's thy fellow-prentice, as good a gentleman born as thou art: nay, and better meaned. But does he pump it, or racket it? Well, if he thrive not, if he outlast not a hundred such crackling bavins as thou art, God and men neglect industry. 75

_Go._ It is his shop, and here my master walks.

[_To the_ Page.

_To._ With me, boy?

_Pa._ My master, Sir Petronel Flash, recommends his love to you, and will instantly visit you.

_To._ To make up the match with my eldest daughter, my wife's dilling,[6] whom she longs to call madam. He shall find me unwillingly ready, boy. [_Exit_ Page.] There's another affliction too. As I have two prentices, the one of a boundless prodigality, the other of a most hopeful industry--so have I only two daughters: the eldest, of a proud ambition and nice wantonness; the other of a modest humility and comely soberness. The one must be ladified, forsooth, and be attired just to the court-cut and long tail.[7] So far is she ill-natured to the place and means of my preferment and fortune, that she throws all the contempt and despite hatred itself can cast upon it. Well, a piece of land she has; 'twas her grandmother's gift; let her, and her Sir Petronel, flash out that; but as for my substance, she that scorns me, as I am a citizen and tradesman, shall never pamper her pride with my industry; shall never use me as men do foxes, keep themselves warm in the skin, and throw the body that bare it to the dunghill. I must go entertain this Sir Petronel. Golding, my utmost care's for thee, and only trust in thee; look to the shop. As for you, Master Quicksilver, think of husks, for thy course is running directly to the prodigal's hog's-trough; husks, sirrah! Work upon that now.

[_Exit_ TOUCHSTONE.

_Qu._ Marry faugh,[8] goodman flat-cap![9] 'sfoot! though I am a prentice I can give arms;[10] and my father's a justice-a-peace by descent, and 'sblood---- 106

_Go._ Fie, how you swear!

_Qu._ 'Sfoot, man, I am a gentleman, and may swear by my pedigree. God's my life! Sirrah Golding, wilt be ruled by a fool? Turn good fellow, turn swaggering gallant, and let the welkin roar, and Erebus also.[11] Look not westward to the fall of Dan Phoebus, but to the east--Eastward-ho!

_Where radiant beams of lusty Sol appear, And bright Eous makes the welkin clear._

We are both gentlemen, and therefore should be no coxcombs: let's be no longer fools to this flat-cap, Touchstone. Eastward, bully, this satin belly, and canvas-backed Touchstone: 'slife! man, his father was a maltman, and his mother sold gingerbread in Christchurch.[12] 121

_Go._ What would you ha' me to do?

_Qu._ Why, do nothing, be like a gentleman, be idle; the curse of man is labour. Wipe thy bum with testones, and make ducks and drakes with shillings. What, Eastward-ho! Wilt thou cry, "what is't ye lack?" stand with a bare pate, and a dropping nose, under a wooden pent-house, and art a gentleman? Wilt thou bear tankards, and mayst bear arms? Be ruled; turn gallant; Eastward-ho! ta, lirra, lirra, ro! "Who[13] calls Jeronimo? Speak, here I am." God's so! how like a sheep thou look'st: o' my conscience, some cowherd begot thee, thou Golding of Golding-hall! Ha, boy? 133

_Go._ Go, ye are a prodigal coxcomb! I a cowherd's son, because I turn not a drunken whore-hunting rake-hell like thyself!

_Qu._ Rake-hell! rake-hell!

[_Offers to draw, and_ GOLDING _trips up his heels and holds him_.

_Go._ Pish, in soft terms, ye are a cowardly bragging boy. I'll ha' you whipt.

_Qu._ Whipt?--that's good, i'faith! untruss me? 140

_Go._ No, thou wilt undo thyself. Alas! I behold thee with pity, not with anger: thou common shot-clog,[14] gull of all companies; methinks I see thee already walk-in Moorfields[15] without a cloak, with half a hat, without a band, a doublet with three buttons, without a girdle, a hose with one point, and no garter, with a cudgel under thine arm, borrowing and begging threepence.

_Qu._ Nay, 'slife! take this and take all; as I am a gentleman born, I'll be drunk, grow valiant, and beat thee.

[_Exit._

_Go._ Go, thou most madly vain, whom nothing can recover but that which reclaims atheists, and makes great persons sometimes religious--calamity. As for my place and life, thus I have read:-- 154

_Whate'er some vainer youth may term disgrace, The gain of honest pains is never base; From trades, from arts, from valour, honour springs, These three are founts of gentry, yea, of kings._

_Enter_ GERTRUDE, MILDRED, BETTRICE, _and_ POLDAVY, _a tailor_; POLDAVY _with a fair gown, Scotch farthingale and French-fall in his arms_; GERTRUDE _in a French head-attire, and citizen's gown_; MILDRED _sewing and_ BETTRICE _leading a monkey after her_.[16]

_Ge._ For the passion of patience, look if Sir Petronel approach--that sweet, that fine, that delicate, that--for love's sake tell me if he come. O sister Mill, though my father be a low-capped tradesman, yet I must be a lady; and I praise God my mother must call me madam. Does he come? Off with this gown, for shame's sake, off with this gown: let not my knight take me in the city-cut in any hand: tear't, pax on't (does he come?) tear't off. "Thus whilst she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake," &c.[17] 167

_Mi._ Lord, sister, with what an immodest impatiency and disgraceful scorn do you put off your city 'tire; I am sorry to think you imagine to right yourself in wronging that which hath made both you and us.

_Ge._ I tell you I cannot endure it, I must be a lady: do you wear your coif with a London licket,[18] your stammel[19] petticoat with two guards,[20] the buffin[21] gown with the tuff-taffety cape, and the velvet lace. I must be a lady, and I will be a lady. I like some humours of the city-dames well: to eat cherries[22] only at an angel a pound, good; to dye rich scarlet, black, pretty; to line a grogram gown clean thorough with velvet, tolerable; their pure linen, their smocks of three pounds a smock, are to be borne withal. But your mincing niceries, taffeta pipkins, durance[23] petticoats, and silver bodkins--God's my life, as I shall be a lady, I cannot endure it! Is he come yet? Lord, what a long knight 'tis! "And ever she cried, Shoot[24] home!" and yet I knew one longer; "And ever she cried, Shoot[24] home," fa, la, ly, re, lo, la!

_Mi._ Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing. 188

_Ge._ Bow-bell!

_Mi._ Where titles presume to thrust before fit means to second them, wealth and respect often grow sullen, and will not follow. For sure in this, I would for your sake I spake not truth: _Where ambition of place goes before fitness of birth, contempt and disgrace follow._ I heard a scholar once say, that Ulysses, when he counterfeited himself mad, yoked cats[25] and foxes and dogs together to draw his plough, whiles he followed and sowed salt; but sure I judge them truly mad, that yoke citizens and courtiers, tradesmen and soldiers, a goldsmith's daughter and a knight. Well, sister, pray God my father sow not salt too. 201

_Ge._ Alas! poor Mildred, when I am a lady, I'll pray for thee yet, i'faith: nay, and I'll vouchsafe to call thee sister Mill still; for though thou art not like to be a lady as I am, yet sure thou art a creature of God's making; and mayest peradventure to be saved as soon as I (does he come?). "And ever and anon she doubled in her song." Now, lady's my comfort, what profane ape's here? Tailor, Poldavy, prithee, fit it, fit it: is this a right Scot?[26] Does it clip close, and bear up round? 210

_Po._ Fine and stiffly, i'faith; 'twill keep your thighs so cool, and make your waist so small; here was a fault in your body, but I have supplied the defect, with the effect of my steel instrument, which, though it have but one eye, can see to rectify the imperfection of the proportion.

_Ge._ Most edifying tailor! I protest you tailors are most sanctified members, and make many crooked things go upright. How must I bear my hands? Light? light? 219

_Po._ O ay, now you are in the lady-fashion, you must do all things light. Tread light, light. Ay, and fall so: that's the Court-amble.

[_She trips about the stage._

_Ge._ Has the Court ne'er a trot?

_Po._ No, but a false gallop, lady.

_Ge._ _And if she will not go to bed_--

[_Cantat._

_Be._ The knight's come, forsooth.

_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL, Master TOUCHSTONE, _and_ Mistress TOUCHSTONE.

_Ge._ Is my knight come? O the Lord, my band! Sister, do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box o' the ear, that I may seem to blush; now, now! So, there, there, there! here he is: O my dearest delight! Lord, Lord! and how does my knight? 231

_To._ Fie! with more modesty.

_Ge._ Modesty! why, I am no citizen now--modesty! Am I not to be married? y'are best to keep me modest, now I am to be a lady.

_Sir Pe._ Boldness is good fashion and courtlike.

_Ge._ Ay, in a country lady I hope it is, as I shall be. And how chance ye came no sooner, knight?

_Sir Pe._ 'Faith, I was so entertained in the progress with one Count Epernoum, a Welsh knight; we had a match at balloon[27] too with my Lord Whachum, for four crowns. 242

_Ge._ At baboon? Jesu! you and I will play at baboon in the country, knight.

_Sir Pe._ O, sweet lady! 'tis a strong play with the arm.

_Ge._ With arm or leg, or any other member, if it be a Court-sport. And when shall's be married, my knight?

_Sir Pe._ I come now to consummate it, and your father may call a poor knight son-in-law. 250

_M. To._ Sir, ye are come; what is not mine to keep I must not be sorry to forego. A 100 li. land her grandmother left her, 'tis yours; herself (as her mother's gift) is yours. But if you expect aught from me, know, my hand and mine eyes open together; I do not give blindly. Work upon that now.

_Sir Pe._ Sir, you mistrust not my means? I am a knight.

_To._ Sir, sir, what I know not, you will give me leave to say I am ignorant of. 260

_Mist. To._ Yes, that he is a knight; I know where he had money to pay the gentlemen-ushers and heralds their fees. Ay, that he is a knight, and so might you have been too, if you had been aught else than an ass, as well as some of your neighbours. And I thought you would not ha' been knighted, as I am an honest woman, I would ha' dubbed you myself. I praise God I have wherewithal. But as for your daughter----

_Ge._ Ay, mother, I must be a lady to-morrow; and by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in the right of my husband), I must take place of you, mother. 272

_Mist. To._ That you shall, lady-daughter, and have a coach as well as I too.

_Ge._ Yes, mother. But by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in my husband's right), my coach-horses must take the wall of your coach-horses.

_To._ Come, come, the day grows low; 'tis supper-time; use my house; the wedding solemnity is at my wife's cost; thank me for nothing but my [un]willing blessing; for I cannot feign, my hopes are faint. And, sir, respect my daughter; she has refused for you wealthy and honest matches, known good men, well-moneyed, better traded, best reputed. 284

_Ge._ Body-o'-truth! chittizens,[28] chittizens! Sweet knight, as soon as ever we are married, take me to thy mercy out of this miserable chitty; presently carry me out of the scent of Newcastle coal, and the hearing of Bow-bell; I beseech thee down with me, for God sake!

_To._ Well, daughter, I have read that old wit sings:--

_The greatest rivers flow from little springs: Though thou art full, scorn not thy means at first, He that's most drunk may soonest be athirst._

Work upon that now. 294

[_All but_ TOUCHSTONE, MILDRED, _and_ GOLDING _depart_.

No, no! yond' stand my hopes--Mildred, come hither, daughter. And how approve you your sister's fashion? how do you fancy her choice? what dost thou think?

_Mi._ I hope as a sister, well.

_To._ Nay but, nay but, how dost thou like her behaviour and humour? Speak freely. 300

_Mi._ I am loth to speak ill; and yet I am sorry of this, I cannot speak well.

_To._ Well; very good, as I would wish; a modest answer. Golding, come hither; hither, Golding. How dost thou like the knight, Sir Flash? does he not look big? how likest thou the elephant? he says he has a castle in the country.

_Go._ Pray heaven, the elephant carry not his castle on his back.[29] 309

_To._ 'Fore heaven, very well! but seriously, how dost repute him?

_Go._ The best I can say of him is, I know him not.

_To._ Ha, Golding! I commend thee, I approve thee, and will make it appear my affection is strong to thee. My wife has her humour, and I will ha' mine. Dost thou see my daughter here? She is not fair, well-favoured or so indifferent, which modest measure of beauty shall not make it thy only work to watch her, nor sufficient mischance to suspect her. Thou art towardly, she is modest; thou art provident, she is careful. She's now mine; give me thy hand, she's now thine. Work upon that now. 322

_Go._ Sir, as your son, I honour you; and as your servant, obey you.

_To._ Sayest thou so? Come hither, Mildred. Do you see yond' fellow? he is a gentleman, though my prentice, and has somewhat to take too; a youth of good hope; well friended, well parted.[30] Are you mine? you are his. Work upon that now. 329

_Mi._ Sir, I am all yours; your body gave me life; your care and love, happiness of life; let your virtue still direct it, for to your wisdom I wholly dispose myself.

_To._ Say'st thou so? Be you two better acquainted. Lip her, lip her, knave. So, shut up shop; in. We must make holiday.

[_Exeunt_ GOLDING _and_ MILDRED.

This match shall on, for I intend to prove Which thrives the best, the mean or lofty love. Whether fit wedlock vow'd 'twixt like and like, Or prouder hopes, which daringly o'erstrike 340 Their place and means. 'Tis honest time's expense, When seeming lightness bears a moral sense. Work upon that now.

[_Exit._

[5] Compare the turn of this sentence with a passage of _The Fawn_ (vol. ii. p. 181):--"His brother your husband, right; he cuckold his eldest brother, true; he get her with child, just."

[6] Darling.

[7] An allusion to the proverbial expression, "cut and long tail" (_i.e._, dogs of every kind).

[8] "Marry, faugh"--a common expression of disgust.

[9] A nickname for a citizen.

[10] "Give arms"--show armorial bearings.

[11] Scraps of Pistol's rant.--"To the infernal deep with Erebus and tortures vile also," &c.

[12] The parishes of St. Ewin, St. Nicholas, and part of St. Sepulchre's were amalgamated into one large parish and called Christ Church. It has been suggested that the reference is to Christ Church in Hampshire!

[13] "Who calls, &c."--a line from _The Spanish Tragedy_ (Hazlitt's _Dodsley_, v. 54).

[14] One who paid the reckoning for the whole company at a tavern. Cf. Jonson, _Poetaster_, i. 1:--"What shall I have my son ... a gull, a rook, a _shot-clog_, to make suppers and be laugh'd at?"

[15] A favourite spot for sturdy beggars.--"I took him begging o' the way this morning as I came over Moorfields."--_Every Man in his Humour_, iv. 4.

[16] Bettrice is not introduced elsewhere in the play. I presume she is a waiting-woman in attendance upon Gertrude, and that it is part of her duty to look after her mistress's monkey. Formerly ladies kept monkeys for pets,--a custom to which the dramatists constantly allude.

[17] A line from a song in John Dowland's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597. The song begins--"Sleep, wayward thoughts, and rest you with my love."

[18] "I have a notion," says Nares in his _Glossary_, "of having seen a _London licket_ somewhere else, but cannot recall the place." I regret to say that I am in the same difficulty. Possibly we were both thinking of _London lickpenny_.--"Licket" may be another form of "tippet."

[19] Red.

[20] Facing, trimmings.

[21] A sort of coarse cloth.

[22] Cf. Middleton, i. 65.--Dekker, in the _Bachelors Banquet_ (1603), describing "The humour of a woman lying in child-bed," says:--"She must have _cherries_, though for a pound he pay ten shillings, or green peacods at four nobles a peck."

[23] Durance was the name of a sort of strong buff-coloured stuff.

[24] Old ed. "shoute." I have not been able to discover the song (if discoverable it is) from which Gertrude is quoting; there is something similar in one of the _Roxburghe Ballads_ (vol. ii. p. 207) entitled "Have at a venture," but the passage is hardly quotable.

[25] It was a horse (or an ass) and an ox that Ulysses yoked together, according to the ordinary account. See Hyginus _Fab._ xcv., and the notes of the commentators thereon.

[26] The Scotch farthingale is mentioned in Dekker and Webster's _Westward Ho_, i. 1.

[27] A game in which a large inflated ball of leather was driven to and fro by a flat piece of wood attached to the arm.

[28] This affected pronunciation of the word _citizens_ occurs frequently in Middleton's _Blurt, Master Constable_.

[29] "'Tis an ordinary thing," says Burton (_Anat. of Mel._, ed. 1660, p. 476), "to put a thousand oaks and an hundred oxen into a suit of apparel, to _wear a whole manor on his back_." Cf. _Henry VIII._, i. 1, 30-35, &c.

[30] "Well parted" = of good abilities. The expression is Jonsonian. Macilente in "The Character of the Persons" prefixed to _Every Man out of his Humour_ is described as "A man _well parted_, a sufficient scholar," &c.