A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 30

[90] It is tolerably evident that two plays (one called "Long Meg,"

and the other "The Ship"), and not one with a double t.i.tle, are here intended to be spoken of. This may seem to disprove Malone's a.s.sertion ("Shakespeare" by Boswell, iii. 304), that only one piece was represented on one day. By Henslowe's Diary it appears that "Longe Mege of Westminster" was performed at Newington in February 1594, and, according to Field, it must have continued for some time popular.

Nothing is known of a dramatic piece of that date called "The Ship."

It may have been only a jig, often given at the conclusion of plays.

[Compare p. 136.]

[91] The second edition misprints this stage direction, _Enter Lord_.

[92] A noted and often-mentioned purlieu, the resort and residence of prost.i.tutes, &c. See "Merry Wives of Windsor," act i. sc. 2, where enough, and more than enough, is said upon the subject. Turnbull Street has been already mentioned.

[93] [_i.e._, Worldly.]

[94] It seems to have been the custom to employ the Irish as lackeys or footmen at this period. R. Brathwaite, in his "Time's Curtaine Drawne," 1621, speaking of the attendants of a courtier, mentions "two _Irish_ lacquies" as among them. The _dart_ which, according to this play, and Middleton and Rowley's "Faire Quarrel" (edit. 1622), they carried, was perhaps intended as an indication of the country from which they came, as being part of the accoutrements of the native Irish: thus, in the description of the dumb show preceding act ii. of "The Misfortunes of Arthur," we find the following pa.s.sage: "After which there came a man bareheaded with long black s.h.a.gged hair down to his shoulders, apparaled with an Irish jacket and shirt, having an Irish dagger by his side and a _dart_ in his hand" [iv. 279]. The _shirt_ in our day seldom forms part of the dress of the resident Irish. [George Richardson] wrote a tract called "The Irish Footman ['s Poetry," 1641, in defence of Taylor the Water-poet.]

[95] The second 4 has it _the effects of pauses_, which, if not nonsense, is very like it.

[96] [_i.e._, The roaring boys, who are introduced a little later in the play.]

ACT III., SCENE 1.

_Enter_ HUSBAND _and_ SUBTLE.

SUB. She's a rare wife, believe it, sir: were all such, We never should have false inheritors.

HUS. Pish! friend, there is no woman in the world Can hold out in the end, if youth, shape, wit, Met in one subject, do a.s.sault her aptly; For failing once, you must not faint, but try Another way: the paths of women's minds Are crooked and diverse; they have byways To lead you to the palace of their pleasures, And you must woo discreetly. First, observe The disposition of her you attempt: If she be spriteful and heroical, Possess her that you are valiant, and have spirit: Talk nothing but of beating every man, That is your hinderance; though you do not do it, Or dare not, 'tis no matter. Be she free And of a liberal soul, give bounteously To all the servants; let your angels fly About the room, although you borrow'd 'em.

If she be witty, so must your discourse: Get wit, what shift soe'er you make for it, Though't cost you all your land; and then a song Or two is not amiss, although you buy 'em: There's many in the town will furnish you.

SUB. But still, I tell you, you must use her roughly.

Beat her face black and blue, take all her clothes, And give them to some punk: this will be ground For me to work upon.

HUS. All this I have done.

I have left her now as bare that, should I die, Her fortune, o' my conscience, would be To marry some tobacco-man: she has nothing But an old black-work waistcoat, which would serve Exceeding well to sit i' th' shop, and light Pipes for the lousy footmen. And, sweet friend, First here's a jewel to present her; then, Here is a sonnet writ against myself, Which as thine own thou shalt accost her with.

Farewell, and happy success attend thee! [_Exit._

SUB. Ha, ha, ha! [_He reads._ _Fairest, still wilt thou be true_ _To man so false to thee?_ _Did he lend a husband's due,_ _Thou didst owe him loyalty;_ _But will curses, wanton[97] blows_ _Breed no change in thy white soul?_ _Be not a fool to thy first vows,_ _Since his first breach doth thy faith control._ _No beauty else could be so chaste;_ _Think not thou honour'st woman then,_ _Since by thy conscience all disgrac'd_ _Are robb'd of the dear loves of men._ _Then grant me my desire, that vow to prove_ _A real husband, his adulterate love."_

Took ever man more pains to be a cuckold!

O monstrous age, where men themselves, we see, Study and pay for their own infamy.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ INGEN, MAID, LORD PROUDLY, BROTHER _like a woman: swords drawn_.

PROUDLY. Give me my sister! I'll have her forth thy heart.

INGEN. No earthly lord can pull her out of that, Till he have pluck'd my heart first out. My lord, Were't not inhospitable, I could wrong you here In my own house. I am so full of woe For your lost sister, that by all my joys Hoped for in her, my heart weeps tears of blood: A whiter virgin and a worthier Had ne'er creation; Leda's swan was black To her virginity and immaculate thoughts.

PROUDLY. Where hast thou hid her? give her me again; For, by the G.o.d of vengeance, be she lost, The female hate shall spring betwixt our names Shall never die, while one of either house Survives: our children shall, at seven years old, Strike knives in one another.

INGEN. Let h.e.l.l gape And take me quick, if I know where she is; But am so charg'd with sorrow for her loss, Being the cause of it (as no doubt I am), That I had rather fall upon my sword [_Offering to kill himself._ Than breathe a minute longer.

BRO. O sir! hold.

PROUDLY. Thou shalt not need; I have a sword to bathe In thy false blood, inhumane murderer.

MAID. Good sir, be pacified: I'll go, I'll run Many a mile to find your sister out.

She never was so desperate of grace By violence to rob herself of life, And so her soul endanger. Comfort, sir; She's but retired somewhere, on my life.

INGEN. Prythee, let me alone-- [_To his brother._ Do I stand to defend that wretched life, That is in doubt of hers? here, worthy lord, Behold a breast fram'd of thy sister's love; Hew it, for thou shalt strike but on a stock, Since she is gone that was the cause it liv'd.

PROUDLY. Out, false dissembler! art not married?

INGEN. No; behold it is my younger brother dress'd; [_Plucks of his head-tire._ A man, no woman, that hath gull'd the world, Intended for a happier event Than this that follow'd, that she now is gone.

O fond experiments of simple man!

Fool to thy fate, since all thy project, meant But mirth, is now converted unto death.

MAID. O, do not burst me, joy! that modesty [_Aside._ Would let me show myself to finish all!

PROUDLY. Nay, then thou hast my sister somewhere, villain!

'Tis plain now thou wilt steal thy marriage.

She is no match for thee, a.s.sure thyself.

If all the law in England or my friends Can cross it, 't shall not be.

INGEN. Would 'twere so well, And that I knew the lady to be safe!

Give me no ill-words. Sir, this boy and I Will wander like two pilgrims till we find her.

If you do love her as you talk, do so: The love or grief that is express'd in words, Is slight and easy; 'tis but shallow woe That makes a noise; deep'st waters stillest go.

I love her better than thy parents did, Which is beyond a brother.

PROUDLY. Slave! thou liest.

INGEN. Zounds! [_About to strike._

BRO. Kill him!

MAID. O, hold! Sir, you dishonour much your brother To counsel him 'gainst hospitality To strike in his own house.

INGEN. You, lord insolent, I will fight with you: Take this as a challenge, and set your time.

PROUDLY. To-morrow morning, Ingen; 'Tis that I covet, and provoke thee for.

BRO. Will you not strike him now?

INGEN. No; my good boy Is both discreet and just in his advice.

Thy glories are to last but for a day: Give me thy hand; To-morrow morning thou shalt be no lord.