A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 55

_Enter_ NICHOLAS.

FRAN. Peace, sir, I must speak with one.-- Nicholas, I think, your name is.

NlCH. True as the skin between your brows.

FRAN. Well, how doth thy master?

NlCH. Forsooth, live, and the best doth no better.

FRAN. Where is the letter he hath sent me?

NlCH. _Ecce signum_! here it is.

FRAN. 'Tis right as Philip said, 'tis a fine fool [_Aside_].

--This letter is directed to my father; I'll carry it to him. d.i.c.k Coomes, make him drink.

[_Exit_.

COOMES. Ay, I'll make him drunk,[283] and he will.

NICH. Not so, Richard; it is good to be merry and wise.

d.i.c.k[284] [COOMES]. Well, Nicholas, as thou art Nicholas, welcome; but as thou art Nicholas and a boon companion, ten times welcome. Nicholas, give me thy hand: shall we be merry? and we shall, say but we shall, and let the first word stand.

NICH. Indeed, as long lives the merry man as the sad; an ounce of debt will not pay a pound of care.

COOMES. Nay, a pound of care will not pay an ounce of debt.

NICH. Well, 'tis a good horse never stumbles: but who lies here?

COOMES. 'Tis our Hodge, and I think he lies asleep: you made him drunk at your house to-day; but I'll pepper some of you for't.

NICH. Ay, Richard, I know you'll put a man over the shoes, and if you can; but he's a fool will take more than will do him good.

COOMES. 'Sblood, ye shall take more than will do ye good, or I'll make ye clap under the table.

NICH. Nay, I hope, as I have temperance to forbear drink, so have I patience to endure drink: I'll do as company doth; for when a man doth to Rome come, he must do as there is done.[285]

COOMES. Ha, my resolved Nick, froligozene! Fill the pot, hostess; swouns, you wh.o.r.e! Harry Hook's a rascal. Help me, but carry my fellow Hodge in, and we'll c'rouse[286] it, i'faith.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ PHILIP.

PHIL. By this, I think, the letter is delivered, And 'twill be shortly time that I step in, And woo their favours for my sister's fortune: And yet I need not; she may do as well, But yet not better, as the case doth stand, Between our mothers; it may make them friends; Nay, I would swear that she would do as well, Were she a stranger to one quality, But they are so acquainted, they'll ne'er part.

Why, she will flout the devil, and make blush The boldest face of man that e'er man saw; He that hath best opinion of his wit, And hath his brainpan fraught with bitter jests, Or of his own, or stol'n, or howsoever, Let him stand ne'er so high in his own conceit, Her wit's a sun that melts him down like b.u.t.ter, And makes him sit at table pancake-wise, Flat, flat, G.o.d knows, and ne'er a word to say; Yet she'll not leave him then, but like a tyrant She'll persecute the poor wit-beaten man, And so bebang him with dry bobs and scoffs, When he is down, most coward-like, good faith, As I have pitied the poor patient.

There came a farmer's son a-wooing to her, A proper man: well-landed too he was, A man that for his wit need not to ask What time a year 'twere good to sow his oats, Nor yet his barley; no, nor when to reap, To plough his fallows, or to fell his trees, Well-experienc'd thus each kind of way; After a two months' labour at the most-- And yet 'twas well he held it out so long-- He left his love, she had so lac'd his lips He could say nothing to her but "G.o.d be with ye!"

Why she, when men have din'd and call for cheese, Will straight maintain jests bitter to disgest;[287]

And then some one will fall to argument, Who if he over-master her with reason, Then she'll begin to buffet him with mocks.

Well, I do doubt Francis hath so much spleen, They'll ne'er agree; but I will moderate.

By this time it is time, I think, to enter: This is the house; shall I knock? no; I will not.

[Nor] wait, while one comes out to answer [me]:[288]

I'll in, and let them be as bold with us.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ MASTER GOURSEY, _reading a letter_.

MR GOUR. _If that they like, her dowry shall be equal To your son's wealth or possibility: It is a means to make our wives good friends, And to continue friendship 'twixt us two_.

'Tis so, indeed: I like this motion, And it hath my consent, because my wife Is sore infected and heart-sick with hate; And I have sought the Galen of advice, Which only tells me this same potion To be most sovereign for her sickness' cure.

_Enter_ FRANK _and_ PHILIP.

Here comes my son, conferring with his friend.-- Francis, how do you like your friend's discourse?

I know he is persuading to this motion.

FRAN. Father, as matter that befits a friend, But yet not me, that am too young to marry.

MR GOUR. Nay, if thy mind be forward with thy years, The time is lost thou tarriest. Trust me, boy, This match is answerable to thy birth; Her blood and portion give each other grace; These indented lines promise a sum, And I do like the value: if it hap Thy liking to accord to my consent, It is a match. Wilt thou go see the maid?

FRAN. Ne'er trust me, father, the shackles[289] of marriage, Which I do see in others, seem so severe, I dare not put my youngling liberty Under the awe of that instruction; And yet I grant the limits of free youth Going astray are often restrain'd by that.

But mistress wedlock, to my scholar-thoughts, Will be too curs'd, I fear: O, should she snip My pleasure-aiming mind, I shall be sad, And swear, when I did marry, I was mad!

MR GOUR. But, boy, let my experience teach thee this-- Yet, in good faith, thou speak'st not much amiss-- When first thy mother's fame to me did come, Thy grandsire thus then came to me his son, And even my words to thee to me he said, And as to me thou say'st to him I said, But in a greater huff and hotter blood,-- I tell ye, on youth's tip-toes then I stood: Says he (good faith, this was his very say), "When I was young, I was but reason's fool, And went to wedding as to wisdom's school; It taught me much, and much I did forget, But, beaten much, by it I got some wit; Though I was shackled from an often scout, Yet I would wanton it, when I was out; 'Twas comfort old acquaintance then to meet, Restrained liberty attain'd is sweet."

Thus said my father to thy father[290], son, And thou mayst do this too, as I have done.

PHIL. In faith, good counsel, Frank: what say'st thou to it?

FRAN. Philip, what should I say?

PHIL. Why, either ay or no.

FRAN. O, but which rather?

PHIL. Why, that which was persuaded by thy father.

FRAN. That's ay then[291]. Ay. O, should it fall out ill, Then I, for I am guilty of that ill!-- I'll not be guilty. No.

PHIL. What, backward gone!

FRAN. Philip, no whit backward; that is, on.

PHIL. On, then.

FRAN. O, stay!

PHIL. Tush, there is no good luck in this delay.

Come, come; late-comers, man, are shent.

FRAN. Heigho, I fear I shall repent!

Well, which way, Philip[292]?