The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume III Part 51

JACCONOT (_rapidly_).

These are but few things among many! for 'scutcheons, scarecrows, proclamations, the bird in a cage, the target for fools' wit, _hic jacet_ tablets (that is, lying ones), the King's Head and the Queen's Arms, ropes of onions, dried herbs, smoked fish, holly boughs, hall lanthorns, framed piety texts, and adored frights of family portraits, all hang! Likewise corkscrews, cat-skins, glittering trophies, sausage links, shining icicles, the crucifix, and the skeleton in chains. There, we all swing, my masters! Tut! hanging's a high Act of Parliament privilege!--a Star-Chamber Garter-right!

MIDDLETON (_to_ Heywood _laughingly_).

The devil's seed germinates with reptile rapidity, and blossoms and fructifies in the vinous fallows of this bully's brain!

JACCONOT.

I tell thee what----(_looking off_) another time!

_Exit_ JACCONOT _hastily._

HEYWOOD.

I breathe fresh air!

MIDDLETON.

Look!--said I not so? See whom 'tis he meets; And with a lounging, loose, familiar air, c.o.c.king his cap and setting his hand on's hip, Salutes with such free language as his action And att.i.tude explain!

HEYWOOD.

I grieve for Marlowe: The more, since 'tis as certain he must have Full course of pa.s.sion, as that its object's full Of most unworthy elements.

MIDDLETON.

Unworthy, Indeed, of such a form, if all be base.

But Nature, methinks, doth seldom so belie The inward by the outward; seldom frame A cheat so finish'd to ensnare the senses, And break our faith in all substantial truth. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ CECILIA, _followed by_ JACCONOT.

JACCONOT.

Well, well, Mistress St. Cecil; the money is all well enough--I object nothing to the money.

CECILIA.

Then, go your ways.

JACCONOT.

My ways are your ways--a murrain on your beauties!--has your brain shot forth skylarks as your eyes do sparks?

CECILIA.

Go!--here is my purse.

JACCONOT.

I'll no more of't!--I have a mind to fling back what thou'st already given me for my services.

CECILIA.

Master Jacconot, I would have no further services from thee. If thou art not yet satisfied, fetch the weight and scales, and I will cast my gold into it, and my dross besides--so shall I be doubly relieved.

JACCONOT.

I say again--and the devil bear me fierce witness!--it is not gold I want, but rightful favour; not silver, but sweet civility; not dross, but the due respect to my non-pareil value! Bethink thee, Cecil--bethink thee of many things! Ay! am not I the true gallant of my time? the great Glow-worm and Will-o'-the-wisp--the life, the fortune, and the favourite of the brightest among ye!

CECILIA.

Away!

JACCONOT.

Whither?

CECILIA.

Anywhere, so it be distant.

JACCONOT.

What mean'st by discarding me, and why is it? 'Slud! is this the right sort of return for all my skilful activities, my adroit fascinations of young lords in drink, my tricks at dice, cards, and dagger-play, not to speak too loudly of bets on bear-baits, soap-bubbles, and Shrovetide c.o.c.ks; or my lies about your beauty and temper? Have I not brought dukes and earls and reverend seniors, on tip-toe, and softly whispering for fear of "the world," right under the balcony of your window?--O, don't beat the dust with your fine foot! These be good services, I think!

CECILIA (_half aside_).

Alas! alas!--the world sees us only as bright, though baleful stars, little knowing our painful punishments in the dark--our anguish in secret.

JACCONOT.

Are you thinking of me?

CECILIA.

Go!

JACCONOT.

Go!--a death's-head crown your pillow! May you dream of love, and wake and see that!

CECILIA.

I had rather see't than you.

JACCONOT.

What's i' the wind,--n.o.bleman, or gentleman, or a brain fancy--am not I at hand? Are you mad?