A SELECT COLLECTION
OF
OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY
IN THE YEAR 1744.

FOURTH EDITION,

NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED
WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS,
AND NEW NOTES

BY
W. CAREW HAZLITT.

BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.

New York

First published 1874-1876
Reissued 1964 by Benjamin Blom, Inc.
L.C. Catalog Card No.: 64-14702

Printed in U.S.A. by
NOBLE OFFSET PRINTERS, INC.
NEW YORK 3, N. Y.

Table of Contents.

NEW CUSTOM.
DODSLEY'S PREFACE.
THE PROLOGUE.
NEW CUSTOM.
RALPH ROISTER DOISTER.
THE PROLOGUE.
RALPH ROISTER DOISTER.
GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE.
PREFACE.
PROLOGUE.
GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE.
THE TRIAL OF TREASURE.
MR HALLIWELL'S PREFACE.
THE TRIAL OF TREASURE.
LIKE WILL TO LIKE.
PROLOGUE.
LIKE WILL TO LIKE.

NEW CUSTOM.

A New Enterlude, no lesse wittie then pleasant, entituled new Custome, devised of late, and for diverse causes nowe set forthe, neuer before this tyme imprinted. 1573. [Col.] Imprinted at London, in Fleete strete, by William How for Abraham Veale, dwelling in Paules churche-yarde at the signe of the Lambe. 4to, B. L.

DODSLEY'S PREFACE.

I have not been able to discover who was the author of this piece. But I think it is one of the most remarkable of our ancient moralities, as it was wrote purposely to vindicate and promote the Reformation. It was printed in 1573, and contrived so that four people might act it; this was frequently done for the convenience of such as were disposed to divert or improve themselves, by representing these kinds of entertainments in their own houses.

[The authorship of "New Custom" remains undiscovered. It is a piece which may have been written a few years before it was printed, and is one of the dramatic efforts in furtherance of the Reformation. At the same time, there is no apparent foundation for the hypothesis that the morality was in existence any great length of time before the date of publication.]

THE PLAYERS' NAMES IN THIS INTERLUDE BE THESE.

• The Prologue.
• Perverse Doctrine, an old Popish Priest.
• Ignorance, another, but elder.
• New Custom, a Minister.
• Light of the Gospel, a Minister.
• Hypocrisy, an old Woman.
• Cruelty, a Ruffler.[1]
• Avarice, a Ruffler.
• Edification, a Sage.
• Assurance, a Virtue.
• God's Felicity, a Sage.

FOUR MAY PLAY THIS INTERLUDE.

1. Perverse Doctrine.

{ Ignorance,
2. { Hypocrisy,
{ and Edification.

{ New Custom.
3. { Avarice.
{ Assurance.

{ Light of the Gospel.
{ Cruelty.
4. { God's Felicity.
{ The Prologue.

THE PROLOGUE.

All things be not so as in sight they do seem,

Whatsoever they resemble, or whatever men deem.

For if our senses in their own objects us do fail

Sometimes, then our judgment shall but little avail

In some things, as such, where doubt giveth denial

Of them in the best wise to make any trial.

Which saying is evident, as well shall appear

In this little interlude, which we present here;

Whereby we may learn how grossly we err,

Taking one thing for another, which differ so far,

As good doth from bad. Example therefore

You may take by these persons, if you mark no more.

For the primitive constitution, which was first appointed

Even by God himself and by Christ his annointed;

Confirmed by th' Apostles, and of great antiquity:

See, how it is perverted by man's wicked iniquity,

To be called New Custom or New Constitution,

Surely a name of too much ungodly abusion.

Which our author, indifferently scanning in his mind,

In his simple opinion this cause he doth find:

That, by reason of ignorance which beareth great sway,

And also stubborn doctrine, which shutteth up the way

To all good instruction and knowledge of right:

No marvel it was, though of the truth we were ignorant quite.

For truly in such a case the matter was but small

To make the ignorant soul to credit them all,

Whatsoever they said, were it truth or a lie.

For no man able was then to prove them the contrary.

Wherefore their own fancies they set in great price,

Neglecting the true way, like men far unwise.

Making semblant of antiquity in all that they did,

To th' intent that their subtlety by such means might be hid.

New Custom also hath he named this matter verily,

In consideration that the people so speaketh commonly,

Confuting the same by reasons most manifest,

Which in consequent order of talk are exprest.

This sense hath our author followed herein, as we said,

For other meaning: moreover he will not have it denayed,

But diverse may invent much distant from this,

Which in no wise he will have prejudicial to his,

Nor his unto theirs, whatsoever they be,

For many heads, many wits,[2] we do plainly see.

Only he desireth this of the worshipful audience:

To take in good part without all manner offence,

Whatsoever shall be spoken, marking the intent,

Interpreting it no otherwise but as it was meant.

And for us, if of patience you list to attend,

We are ready to declare you the matter to the end.

FINIS PROLOGI.

NEW CUSTOM

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 1.

Perverse Doctrine and Ignorance enter.

Perv. Doc. It is even so indeed, the world was never in so evil a state;

But this is no time for us of these matters to debate.

It were good we invented some politic way

Our matters to address in good orderly stay.

And for us reason would we looked to ourselves.

Do you not see how these new-fangled prattling elves

Prink up so pertly of late in every place,

And go about us ancients flatly to deface?

As who should say in short time, as well learned as we,

As wise to the world, as good they might accounted be,

Nay, nay, if many years and grey hairs do know no more,

But that every peevish boy hath even as much wit in store:

By the mass, then, have I lived too long, and I would I were dead,

If I have not more knowledge than a thousand of them in my head,

For how should they have learning that were born but even now?

As fit a sight it were to see a goose shod or a saddled cow,

As to hear the prattling of any such Jack Straw.

For, when he hath all done, I count him but a very daw.

As in London not long since, you wot well where,

They rang to a sermon, and we chanced to be there.

Up stert the preacher, I think not past twenty years old,

With a sounding voice and audacity bold,

And began to revile at the holy sacrament and transubstantiation:

I never heard one knave or other make such a declaration.

But, if I had had the boy in a convenient place,

With a good rod or twain, not past one hour's space.

I would so have scourged my merchant,[3] that his breech should ache,

So long as it is since that he those words spake.

What, young men to be meddlers in divinity? it is a goodly sight!

Yet therein now almost is every boy's delight,

No book now in their hands, but all scripture, scripture:

Either the whole Bible or the New Testament, you may be sure.

The New Testament for them? and then too for Coll my dog![4]

This is the old proverb—to cast pearls to an hog.

Give them that which is meet for them, a racket and a ball,

Or some other trifle to busy their heads withal:

Playing at quoits or nine-holes,[5] or shooting at butts,

There let them be, a God's name, till their hearts ache and their guts!

Let us alone with divinity, which are of riper age.

Youth is rash, they say, but old men hath the knowledge.

For while they read they know not what, they omit the verity,

And that is now the cause so many fall into heresy,

Every man hath his own way, some that and some this,

It would almost for anger (sir reverence![6]) make a man to piss,

To hear what they talk of in open communication,

Surely I fear me, Ignorance, this gear will make some desolation.

Ignorance. I fear the same also; but as touching that whereof you speak full well,

They have revoked divers old heresies out of hell.

As against transubstantiation, purgatory, and the mass,

And say that by scripture they cannot be brought to pass.

But that which ever hath been a most true and constant opinion,

And defended also hitherto by all of our religion,

That I, Ignorance, am the mother of true devotion,

And Knowledge the author of the contrary affection:

They deny it so stoutly as though it were not so;

But this hath been believed many an hundred year ago.

Wherefore it grieveth me not a little that my case should so stand,

Thus to be disproved at every prattler's hand.

Perv. Doc. Yea, doth? then the more unwise man you, as I trow,

For they say as much by me, as you well do know.

And shall I then go vex myself at their talk?

No, let them speak so long as their tongues can walk.

They shall not grieve me, for why in very sooth

It were folly to endeavour to stop every man's mouth.

They have brought in one, a young upstart lad, as it appears,

I am sure he hath not been in the realm very many years,

With a gathered frock, a polled head and a broad hat,

An unshaved beard, a pale face; and he teacheth that

All our doings are nought, and hath been many a day.

He disalloweth our ceremonies and rites, and teacheth another way

To serve God, than that which we do use,

And goeth about the people's minds to seduce.

It is a pestilent knave, he will have priests no corner-cap to wear;[7]

Surplices are superstition: beads, paxes, and such other gear,

Crosses, bells, candles, oil, bran, salt, spettle, and incense,

With censing and singing, he accounts not worth three-halfpence,

And cries out on them all (if to repeat them I wist)

Such holy things, wherein our religion doth consist.

But he commands the service in English to be read,

And for the Holy Legend[8] the Bible to put in his stead,

Every man to look thereon at his list and pleasure,

Every man to study divinity at his convenient leisure,

With a thousand new guises more you know as well as I.

And to term him by his right name, if I should not lie,

It is New Custom, for so they do him call,

Both our sister Hypocrisy, Superstition, Idolatry and all.

And truly me-thinketh, they do justly and wisely therein,

Since he is so diverse, and so lately crept in.

Ignorance. So they call him indeed, you have said right well,

Because he came newly from the devil of hell,

New Custom, quoth you? now a vengeance of his new nose,

For bringing in any such unaccustomed glose!

For he hath seduced the people by mighty great flocks:

Body of God, it were good to set the knave in the stocks.

Or else to whip him for an example to all rogues as he,

How they the authors of new heresies be,

Or henceforth do attempt any such strange devise:

Let him keep himself from my hands, if he be wise.

If ever I may take him within my reign,

He is sure to have whipping there for his pain.

For he doth much harm in each place throughout the land.

Wherefore, Perverse Doctrine, here needeth your hand:

I mean that ye be diligent in any case,

If ye fortune to come, where New Custom is in place,

So to use the villain, you know what I mean,

That in all points you may discredit him clean;

And when he begins of anything for to clatter,

Of any controversy of learning or divinity matter,

So to cling fast unto every man's thought,

That his words may seem heresy, and his doings but nought.

Perv. Doc. Tush, let me alone with that, for I have not so little wit,

But I have practised this already, and mind also to do it.

Yet a further device I have, I think, not amiss.

Hearken to me, Ignorance, for the matter is this:

For the better accomplishing our subtlety pretended,[9]

It were expedient that both our names were amended;

Ignorance shall be Simplicity, for that comes very nigh;

And for Perverse Doctrine I will be called Sound Doctrine, I.

And now that we are both in such sort named,

We may go in any place, and never be blamed.

See then you remember your name, sir Simplicity,

And me at every word Sound Doctrine to be;

Beware of tripping, but look in mind that you bear

Your feigned name, and what before you were.

But who is this that hitherward doth walk?

Let us stand still, to hear what he will talk.

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 2.

New Custom entereth alone.

New Cus. When I consider the ancient times before,

That have been these eight hundred years and more,

And those confer with these our later days,

My mind do these displease a thousand ways.

For sure he, that hath both perceived aright,

Will say they differ as darkness doth from light.

For then plain-dealing bare away the prize;

All things were ruled by men of good advice;

Conscience prevailed much, even everywhere;

No man deceived his neighbour and eke a thing full rare

It was to find a man you might not trust;

But look what once they promised, they did that well and just.

If neighbours were at variance, they ran not straight to law:

Daysmen[10] took up the matter, and cost them not a straw,

Such delight they had to kill debate and strife;

And surely even in those days was there more godlier life.

Howbeit men of all ages are wonted to dispraise

The wickedness of time that flourished at their days.

As well he may discern, who for that but lightly looks,

In every leaf almost of all their books.

For as for Christ our master, what he thought of Jews,

And after him th' apostles, I think it is no news.

Perv. Doc. Hark, Simplicity, he is some preacher, I will lay my gown;

He mindeth to make a sermon within this town.

He speaketh honestly yet; but surely, if he rail at me,

I may not abide him, by the mass, I promise thee.

New Cus. Paul to the Corinthians plainly doth tell,

That their behaviour pleased him not well.

All our forefathers likewise have been offended

With divers faults at their time, that might have been amended.

The doctors of the church great fault they did find,

In that men lived not after their mind:

First with the rulers as examples of sin,

Then with the people as continuing therein:

So that of them both this one thing they thought,

That the people was not good, but the rulers were nought.

But in comparison of this time of misery,

In those days men lived in perfect felicity.

Saint Paul prophesied that worse times should ensue,

In novissimis venient quidam, saith he, this is true,

Following all mischief, ungodliness and evil,

Leaning to all wickedness and doctrine of the devil;

And spake he not of these days, think you, I pray?

The proof is so plain that no man can denay:

For this is sure, that never in any age before

Naughtiness and sin hath been practised more,

Or half so much, or at all, in respect so I say,

And is now (God amend all) at this present day:

Sin now no sin, faults no faults a whit:

O God, seest thou this, and yet wilt suffer it?

Surely thy mercy is great; but yet our sins, I fear,

Are so great, that of justice with them thou canst not bear.

Adultery no vice, it is a thing so rife,

A stale jest now to lie with another man's wife!

For what is that but dalliance? Covetousness they call

Good husbandry, when one man would fain have all.

And eke alike to that is unmerciful extortion,

A sin in sight of God of great abhomination:

For pride, that is now a grace; for round about

The humble-spirited is termed a fool or a lout.

Whoso will be so drunken, that he scarcely knoweth his way,

O, he is a good fellow, so now-a-days they say.

Gluttony is hospitality, while they meat and drink spill,

Which would relieve diverse whom famine doth kill.

As for all charitable deeds, they be gone, God know'th;

Some pretend lack, but the chief cause is sloth:

A vice most outrageous of all others sure,

Right hateful to God, and contrary to nature.

Scarce blood is punished but even for very shame,

So make they of murther but a trifling game.

O, how many examples of that horrible vice

Do daily among us now spring and arise!

But thanks be to God that such rulers doth send,

Which earnestly study that fault to amend:

As by the sharp punishment of that wicked crime

We may see that committed was but of late time.

God direct their hearts they may always continue

Such just execution on sin to ensue;

So shall be saved the life of many a man,

And God will withdraw his sore plagues from us then.

Theft is but policy, perjury but a face,

Such is now the world, so far men be from grace.

But what shall I say of religion and knowledge

Of God, which hath been indifferent in each age

Before this? howbeit his faults then it had,

And in some points then was culpable and bad.

Surely this one thing I may say aright:

God hath rejected us away from him quite,

And given us up wholly unto our own thought,

Utterly to destroy us, and bring us to nought:

For do they not follow the inventions of men?

Look on the primitive church, and tell me then,

Whether they served God in this same wise,

Or whether they followed any other guise?

For since God's fear decayed, and hypocrisy crept in,

In hope of some gains and lucre to win,

Cruelty bare a stroke, who with fagot and fire

Brought all things to pass that he did desire.

Next avarice spilt all, which, lest it should be spied,

Hypocrisy ensued the matter to hide.

Then brought they in their monsters, their masses, their light,

Their torches at noon to darken our sight:

Their popes and their pardons, their purgatories for souls:

Their smoking of the church and flinging of coals.

Ignorance. Stay yet a while, and let us hear more communication.

Perv. Doc. I cannot, by God's soul, if I might have all this nation.

Shall I suffer a knave thus to rail and prate?

Nay then, I pray God, the devil break my pate!

I will be revenged, ere he depart away—

Ah, sirrah, you have made a fair speak here to-day,

Do you look for any reward for your deed?

It were good to beat thee, till thy head bleed,

Or to scourge thee well-favouredly at a cart's tail,

To teach such an whoreson to blaspheme and rail

At such holy mysteries and matters so high,

As thou speakest of now, and rail'dst at so lately!

New Cus. What mean ye, sir, or to whom do you speak?

Art you minded on me your anger to wreak,

Which have not offended, as far as I know?

Perv. Doc. I speak to thee, knave; thou art mad, I trow.

What meanest thou to rail right now so contemptuously

At the chiefest secrets of all divinity?

New Cus. Verily I railed not, so far as I can tell,

I spake but advisedly, I know very well;

For I will stand to it, whatsoever I said.

Perv. Doc. Wilt thou so? but I will make thee well apaid,[11]

To recant thy words, I hold thee a pound,

Before thou depart hence out of this ground.

New Cus. No, that shall you not do, if I die therefore.

Perv. Doc. Thou shalt see anon, go to, prattle no more,

But tell me the effect of the words which were said.

New Cus. To recite them again, I am not afraid:

I said that the mass, and such trumpery as that,

Popery, purgatory, pardons, were flat

Against God's word and primitive constitution,

Crept in through covetousness and superstition

Of late years, through blindness, and men of no knowledge;

Even such as have been in every age.

Perv. Doc. Now, precious whoreson, thou hast made a lie;

How canst thou prove that, tell me by and by.

New Cus. It needeth small proof; the effect doth appear.

Neither this is any place for to argue here.

And, as for my saying, I hold the negative:

It lieth you upon to prove the affirmative;

To show that such things were used in antiquity,

And then I can easily prove you the contrary.

Perv. Doc. Standest thou with me on school points? dost thou so indeed?

Thou hadst best to prove me whether I can read;

Thinkest thou I have no logic, indeed thinkest thou so?

Yes, prinkocks, that I have; for forty years ago

I could smatter in a Duns[12] prettily, I do not jest;

Better I am sure than a hundred of you, whosoever is the best.

New Cus. Truly I believe you, for in such fond books

You spent idly your time and wearied your looks:

More better it had been in books of holy scripture,

Where as virtue is expressed, and religion pure,

To have passed your youth, as the Bible and such,

Than in these trifles to have dolted so much;

Not more to have regarded a Duns or a Questionist,

Than you would the words of the holy evangelist.

Perv. Doc. What, for a child to meddle with the Bible?

New Cus. Yea, sure, more better than so to be idle.

Perv. Doc. Is study then idleness? that is a new term.

New Cus. They say better to be idle than to do harm.

Perv. Doc. What harm doth knowledge? I pray thee, tell me.

New Cus. Knowledge puffeth up, in Saint Paul you may see.

Perv. Doc. Yea, but what knowledge meaneth he? tell me that.

New Cus. Even such knowledge as ye profess flat;

For the truth and the gospel you have in contempt,

And follow such toys as yourselves do invent:

Forsaking God's laws and the apostle's institution

In all your proceedings and matters of religion.

Perv. Doc. By what speakest thou that, let me hear thy judgment?

New Cus. Not by any guess, but by that which is evident.

As for the scriptures, you have abolished clean;

New fashions you have constitute in religion; again,

Abuse of the sacraments than hath been to-fore,

Have you brought, and in number have you made them more

Than Christ ever made: wherefore show your auctority,

Or else have you done to the church great injury.

Th' apostles never taught your transubstantiation

Of bread into flesh, or any such fashion;

Howbeit they were conversant every day and hour,

And received that sacrament of Christ our Saviour.

You feign also that Peter was bishop of Rome,

And that he first instituted the seat of your Popedom:

But, perverse nation, how dare you for shame

Your fancies on Christ and th' apostles to frame?

Perv. Doc. Marry, avaunt, Jack-sauce and prattling knave,

I will conjure thy coat, if thou leave not to rave.

With all my heart and a vengeance, come up and be nought:

I see we shall have an heretic of thee, as I thought.

These things were approved, ere thou wast born, dost thou not see?

And shall be, when thou art hanged, I warrant thee.

New Cus. Ere I was born! nay, sure that is not true,

For in comparison of me they be but new.

Perv. Doc. Of thee! ha, ha, ha! what, of thee! thou art mad.

New Cus. Surely in my sort I am both sober and sad.[13]

Perv. Doc. Why, how old art thou? tell me, I pray thee heartily.

New Cus. Elder than you, I perceive.

Perv. Doc. What, older than I!

The young knave, by the mass, not fully thirty,

Would be elder than I, that am above sixty!

New Cus. A thousand and a half, that surely is my age:

Ask and inquire of all men of knowledge.

Perv. Doc. A thousand years? God's precious soul, I am out of my wits;

He is possessed of some devil or of some evil sp'rits.

Why, thou art a young knave of that sort, I say,

That brought into this realm but the other day

This new learning and these heresies, and such other things mo,

With strange guises invented not long ago.[14]

And I pray thee tell me, is not thy name New Custom?

New Cus. Truly so I am called of some,

As of such as want both wit and understanding,

As you do now, I know by your talking:

But woe be to those that make no distinction

Between many things of diverse condition;

As naught to be good, and hot to be cold,

And old to be new, and new to be old.

Wherefore these deceits you daily invent,

The people to seduce unto your advertisement,

While with tales you assay, and with lies you begin,

The truth to deface, and your credit to win.

Perv. Doc. What is thy name, then? I pray thee make declaration.

New Cus. In faith, my name is Primitive Constitution.

Perv. Doc. Who? who, Prava Constitutio? even so I thought,

I wist that it was some such thing of nought.[15]

Like lettuce,[16] like lips; a scabb'd horse for a scald squire.

New Cus. Primitive Constitution I said, if you hear,

Such orders as in the primitive church heretofore

Were used, but not now, the more pity therefore.

Perv. Doc. Ha, ha! in good time, sir, well might you fare, Primitive Constitution,

That is your true name, you say, without all delusion.

Primitive Constitution (quodestow[17]) as much as my sleeve!

The devil on him which will such liars believe!

For my part, if I credit such an hairy nowl,[18]

The foul fiend of hell fetch me, body and soul!

New Cus. Truth cannot prevail, where Ignorance is in place.

Ignorance. Peace, or I will lay my beads on thy face:

Hast thou nothing to rail at but Ignorance, I trow?

New Cus. You may use me even at your pleasure, I know;

For Perverse Doctrine, that is rooted so fast,

That it may not be changed at no heavenly blast,

May not hear the contrary, but beginneth to kick,

Like a jade when he feeleth the spur for to prick.

Perv. Doc. Yea! say'st thou so, thou miscreant villain?

A little thing would make me knock out thy brain:

Hence out of my sight away, packing, trudge!

Thou detestable heretic, thou caitiff, thou drudge;

If I may take thee, it were as good thou were dead,

For even with this portace[19] I will batter thy head. [Exit New Custom.

Though I hang therefore, I care not, I,

So I be revenged on a slave, ere I die.

Sacrament of God! who hath heard such a knave?

Who, after he had done at Ignorance to rave,

Perverse Doctrine (quod he) is also rooted so fast,

That he may be changed by no heavenly blast.

No, God's soul, I warrant him, I will see him rotten,

Before that my doctrine I shall have forgotten:

Wherefore it behoveth us some counsel to take,

How we the stronger our matters may make,

Against the surprise of this new invasion,

Begun of late by this strange generation,

Of New Custom and his makes;[20] meaning to deface

Our ancient rites and religion, and to place

Their devilish doctrine the Gospel, and so

Our gains to debate, and ourselves to undo.

I think it best therefore that our sister Hypocrisy

Do understand fully of this matter by and by.

Let us go and seek her, the case for to show,

That we her good counsel may speedily know.

Ignorance. I am ready; in following I will not be slow. [Exeunt.

ACTUS II., SCENA 1.

Light of the Gospel and New Custom enter.

L. of Gospel. Doubt you nothing at all, for God will so provide,

Who leaveth not his elect to defend and to guide;

That wherever I come, such grace you may find,

As shall in each point content well your mind,

And admit that they call you New Custom, what then?

Attribute that folly to the ignorance of men,

That follow their fancies, and know not the right

Well, you know where I come once, the Light

Of the Gospel, whose beams do glister so clear,

Then, Primitive Constitution, in each place you appear;

And as elsewhere you have been, so do not mistrust,

But in this place hereafter be received you must.

New Cus. According to your nature, so do you very well

To put me in good hope, bright Light of the Gospel.

And seeing you be true, I may in no wise

Misdeem you the father or author of lies:

For if trust to the gospel do purchase perpetuance

Of life unto him, who therein hath confidence,

What shall the light do, whose beams be so bright,

That in each respect all things else of light

Are but very darkness, and eke terrestrial?

So the Light of the Gospel overshineth them all.

Wherefore with great comfort I receive your counsel,

With hearty thanks unto you, the Light of the Gospel.

L. of Gospel. Do so, and by faith then shall you obtain

Whatsoever you desire, the scripture saith plain:

For quicquid petieritis in nomine meo,

It must of truth needs be understood so:

That without faith, whatsoever we fortune to crave,

We may not look for it our desire to have.

Faith moveth mountains, so it be pure faith indeed;

By faith we obtain whatsoever we need.

Then faith shall restore to you more things than this,

Believe me, Primitive Constitution, whatsoever is amiss.

But where be those reprobates, devoid of all grace,

Who lately misused you, as you said, in this place?

New Cus. They be suddenly departed, I wot not well whither;

For I left them right now both here together.

They cannot be far hence, I know very well,

Where they be, there is none, if we ask, but can tell.

L. of Gospel. Do you know them again, if you meet them aright?

New Cus. Yea, sir, that I do, even at the first sight.

L. of Gospel. Then let us not tarry, but go seek them straight.

New Cus. At hand I am ready on you for to wait. [Exeunt.

ACTUS II., SCENA 2.

Hypocrisy, Perverse Doctrine, and Ignorance enter.

Hypocrisy. Perverse Doctrine, I say, take heed in any sort.

That thou never believe whatsoever they report,

Though they of the Gospel never so much do preach,

Every man will not credit whatsoever they teach.

They will not say, all believe, when they do not, I promise thee:

For that time will never come in this world, trust me.

Tush, tush, be thou busied in any case

To discredit their preaching in every place.

If they teach them one thing, then teach thou the contrary;

And if that no scripture for thy place thou have ready,

In words that supply, which wanteth in reason,

For ill things applied sometime in good season,

As of better eftsoons do import the weight,

So they be well ordered by good policy and sleight.

Howbeit their doctrine be sound, yet their vices find out,

As this is a sloven, or this is a lout:

He speaketh on envy, such a one for need;

This saith it in words, but he thinketh it not in deed.

Upon greater occasion they stick not to rave,

Saying, this is a whoremaster villain, he, an heretic knave,

An extortioner, a thief, a traitor, a murtherer,

A covetous person, a common usurer.

This he doth for my mistress his wife's sake, by the rood,

The better to maintain and support the French hood.[21]

Remember also, that it were a great shame

For thee for to have forgotten thy own name.

Perverse Doctrine, of right, must the truth so pervert,

That he never let it sink into any man's heart:

As far as he can, with diligence withstand,

For ever it behoveth thee to be ready at hand,

To strengthen thine own parts, and disprove other doctrine,

Whatsoever shall be taught that is contrary to thine:

Still pretend religion, whatsoever you say,

And that shall get thee good credit alway,

Pleasing the multitude with such kind of gear,[22]

As with them, to the which most inclined they are.

Square caps, long gowns, with tippets of silk,

Brave copes in the church, surplices as white as milk,

Beads, and such like: all these bear the price.

To these things apply thy attendant device:

And other likewise, which well you do know,

Which all of great holiness do set forth a show.

Though some of them, doubtless, be indifferent, what matter!

They furnish our business never the latter.

For these, of antiquity since that they do smell,

Our cause must commend right wonderful well:

And these be the things whereof thou hast need,

The better of thy will and purpose to speed.

Then give thy attendance, and so be sure of this:

That I will be ready and never will miss

To assist thee still in working thy purpose,

To th' advancing of thee, and depressing thy foes.

Perv. Doc. Gramercy, good sister, even with all my heart,

For this your good counsel; and for my part,

Whatsoever in this case may be possibly done,

I shall follow your precepts as a natural son.

For the matter so stands, if we look not well about,

That we quite perish all out of doubt,

Unless some such way we take out of hand,

Whereby we may be able our foes to withstand.

And for this cause my brother Ignorance and I,

Lest it should chance us to fall into jeopardy,

Through envy of our names in any man's ear:

For this intent, I say, we did diligently care

Our names to counterfeit in such manner of sort,

That wherever we go we may win good report.

Hypocrisy. Of my faith, that is very well done indeed!

God send thee a good wit still at thy need.

And that in thy doings such success thou may'st find,

That all things may chance to thee after thy mind.

My brother, if thou have ought else for to say,

Speak on, ere that I depart hence away.

Perv. Doc. Great thanks for your counsel, and if ye chance to go thither,

You may meet with Ignorance, to hasten him hither.

Hypocrisy. Farewell: he shall be here, you shall see, even anon. [Exit.

Perv. Doc. Alack, alack, now my good sister is gone,

Whose presence to enjoy is more pleasant unto me,

That any thing whatsoever in the world could be.

Good occasion have I such a sister to embrace,

For by her means I live and enjoy this place,

Which yet I possess as long as I may,

And have heretofore many a fair day.

For since these new heretics, the devil take them all,

In all corners began to bark and to bawl

At the Catholic faith and the old religion,

Making of them both but matters of derision;

Hypocrisy hath so helped at every need,

That but for her hardly were we like for to speed.

For be our case never so nigh driven to the worst,

Though her means by some means take no place at the first:

Yet some means doth she find, by some means at the length,

That her ways do prevail, and her matters get strength.

She can find out a thousand guiles in a trice,

For every purpose a new strong device.

No matter so difficile for man to find out,

No business so dangerous, no person so stout,

But of th' one she is able a solution to make,

And th' other's great peril and mood for to slake.

And in fine, much matter in few words to contain,

She can find out a cloak for every rain.[23]

What person is there, that beareth more sway

In all manner of matters at this present day

Throughout the whole world, though of simple degree,

And of small power to sight she seem for to be?

Consider all trades and conditions of life,

Then shall you perceive that Hypocrisy is rife

To all kind of men and of every age,

So far as their years them therein may give knowledge:

Lo, here a large field, where at length he may walk,

Who list of this matter at the full for to talk.

To declare of what power and of what efficacy,

In every age, country and time is Hypocrisy.

But I may not about such small points now stand:

The affairs they be greater, that I have in hand.

Ignorance is the cause that I so long tarry here,

And behold where the blind buzzard doth appear.

Come on, thou gross-headed knave, thou whoreson ass, I say,

Where hast thou been, since we departed to-day?

Enter Ignorance.

Ignorance. Where have I been, quod you? marry, even there I was,

Whereas I would have given an hundred pound, by the mass,

To have been here; for never, since the day I was born,

Was I so near-hand in pieces for to have been torn.

For as I was going up and down in the street,

To see if I could with Hypocrisy meet,

Behold, afar off I began to espy

That heretic New Custom, with another in his company.

As soon as they saw me, they hied them apace,

Came towards, and met me full in the face.

I am glad we have found you then, quod this heretic knave,

For you and your fellow this day sought we have

In every place, and now cannot you fly;

And with these words both they came very nigh.

Whereat I so feared, I may tell you plain,

That I thought at that hour I should have been slain.

This is he, quod the varlet, of whom I told you of late,

An enemy of the truth, and incensed with hate

Against God and his church, and an imp of Hypocrisy,

A foe to the gospel and to true divinity.

Thou liest, heretic, quod I, and nought else could I say,

But brake quickly from them, and hither came away.

Perv. Doc. Who is he that was with him, Simplicity, canst thou tell?

Ignorance. Not I, sure, but some call him the Light of the Gospel.

A good personable fellow, and in countenance so bright,

That I could not behold him in the visage aright.

Perv. Doc. God's precious wounds, that slave! marry, fie on him, fie!

Body of our Lord, is he come into the country?

I think all the heretics in the world have taken in hand

By some solemn oath to pester this land,

With their wicked schisms and abhominable sects,

Now a vengeance on them all, and the devil break their necks!

Light of the Gospel! light of a straw! yet whatever he be,

I would he were hanged as high as I can see.

Ignorance. What, have you heard of him before this?

Perv. Doc. Heard of him? yea, that have I often, i-wis.

If there be any in the world, it is this whoreson thief,

Believe me, Simplicity, that will work us the mischief.

Hath that same new Jack got him such a mate?

Now with all my heart a pestilence on his pate!

I would they were both hanged fairly together,

Or else were at the devil, I care not much whether.

For since these Genevan doctors came so fast into this land,

Since that time it was never merry with England.

First came New Custom, and he gave the onsay.[24]

And sithens things have gone worse every day.

But, Simplicity, dost thou know what is mine intent?

Ignorance. Tell me, and I shall know what you have meant.

Perv. Doc. Our matters with Cruelty our friend to discuss,

And to hear him, what counsel in this case he will give us;

And this is the cause I have tarried for thee,

Because that to him I would have thee go with me,

But see where he cometh with Avarice sadly walking,

Let us listen, if we can, whereof they be talking.

ACTUS II., SCENA 3.

Cruelty, Avarice enter. Perverse Doctrine and Ignorance tarry.

Cruelty. Nay, by God's heart, if I might do what I list,

Not one of them all that should 'scape my fist.

His nails,[25] I would plague them one way or another.

I would not miss him, no, if he were mine own brother.

With small faults I might bear as I saw occasion,

And punish or forgive at mine own discretion,

For I wot that sometime the wisest may fall;

But heresy—fie on that, that is the greatest of all.

Every stocks should be full, every prison and jail:

Some would I beat with rods, some scourge at a cart's tail,

Some hoise their heels upward, some beat in a sack,

Some manacle their fingers, some bind in the rack.

Some would I starve for hunger, some would I hang privily,

Saying, that themselves so died desperately.

Some would I accuse of matters of great weight,

Openly to hang them as trespassers straight.

A thousand mo ways could I tell, and not miss,

Which here in England, I may say to you, I have practised ere this,

And trust, by His wounds, Avarice, soon again for to try,

Howsoever the world go, before that I die.

Avarice. Now I will tell thee, Cruelty, by God's sacrament I have swore,

It were pity but thou were hanged before.

Cruelty. Ha, ha, ha; I had as lief they were hanged as I.

By the mass, there is one thing makes me laugh heartily, ha, ha, ha.

Avarice. I pray thee what is that?

Cruelty. What? ha, ha, ha; I cannot tell for

laughing, I would never better pastime desire,

Than to hear a dozen of them howling together in the fire;

Whose noise, as me-thinketh, I could best compare

To a cry of hounds following after the hare,

Or a rabblement of bandogs barking at a bear;

Ha, ha, ha.

Avarice. I beshrew thy knave's fingers with my very heart,

The devil will reward thee, whose darling thou art.

But sirrah, I pray thee—

If it had chanced me in those days in thy hands to have fell,

I think sure thou wouldst have ordered me well.

Cruelty. His blood, I would I might have once seen that chance,

I would have vexed thee with a vengeance, for old acquaintance.

Avarice. Why so? I was always thy furderer in those days, I am sure.

Cruelty. Yea, but what was the cause? thine own profit to procure.

For so that thou mightest 'vantage and lucre obtain,

Thou wouldest not stick to bring thine own brother to pain.

Avarice. Ha, ha, ha; no, nor father and mother, if there were ought to be got,

Thou mightest swear, if I could, I would bring them to the pot.

Whereof a like history I shall tell thee, Cruelty,

In England, which myself played in the days of queen Mary.[26]

Two brothers there were dwelling, young gentlemen; but the heir

Had substantial revenues, his stock also was fair;

A man of good conscience, and studious of the Gospel.

Which the other brother perceiving very well,

Persuaded him by all means, since he was so bent,

To be constant in opinion, and not to relent,

Which done, he gave notice to the officers about,

How they should come with search to find his brother out;

Who, when he was once in this sort apprehended,

Shortly after his life in the fire he ended.

The other had the most part of all his living—

How say'st, sir knave? is not this the near way to thriving?

Cruelty. O unreasonable Avarice, unsatiable with gain.

Avarice. What [of] this?[27] tush, it was but a merry train.

Cruelty. For lucre's sake his own brother to betray?

Hence, Judas, with these doings I cannot away.[28]

Avarice. I was ever with him, still ready at hand,

Continually suggesting of the house and the land.

And yet to tell you the truth, as indeed the thing is,

Of my conscience I think the best part was his.

Cruelty. By God's glorious wounds, he was worthy of none;

But thou to be whipped for thy greedy suggestion.

Avarice. Heart of God, man, be the means better or worse,

I pass not, I, so it be good for the purse.

Ha, ha, ha!

Enter from behind Perverse, Doctrine and Ignorance.

Perv. Doc. If you love the purse so well, Avarice, as you say indeed,

Then help me with your counsel now at a need.

Avarice. What, Perverse Doctrine, and Ignorance too, were you both so near?

We had thought at our coming that no man had been here.

Ignorance. We have been in this place ever since that you stayed,

And we have heard also whatsoever you have said.

Cruelty. Welcome both, on my faith, and I am glad it was our chance

To meet with you here, Perverse Doctrine and Ignorance.

Why, how go'th the world? me-thinks you be sad.

Perv. Doc. Marry, God have mercy, but there is small cause to be glad:

For except you come speedily with your helping hand,

No doubt we shall shortly be banished the land.

Avarice. Why so, Perverse Doctrine?

Cruelty. I pray thee, let me understand.

Perv. Doc. Why so! you know: how, since heresy came lately in place,

And New Custom, that vile schismatic, began to deface

All our old doings, our service, or rites, that of yore

Have been of great price in the old time before:

Ourselves have been enforced almost for to fly

The country, or else covertly in some corner to lie.

Cruelty. By the mass, that is true, for I dare not appear,

Whosoever would give me twenty pounds lands by the year.

Avarice. Ha, ha, ha, by God's foot, and I was never in better case in my life,

For covetousness with the clergy was never so rife.

Wherefore I have no cause in such sort to be grieved,

Yet I would I could tell, sirs, how you might be relieved.

Perv. Doc. Now, sirrah, to mend up this matter withal:

Precious God, it frets me to the very gall.

For now of late that slave, that varlet, that heretic, Light of the Gospel,

Is come over the sea, as some credibly tell,

Whom New Custom doth use in all matters as a stay,

The most enemy to us in the world alway;

Whose rancour is such, and so great is his spite,

That no doubt he will straightway banish us quite,

Unless we provide some remedy for the contrary,

And with speed; this is truth that I tell thee, Cruelty.

Cruelty. His wounds, heart and blood, is he come without any nay?

Ignorance. Yea verily, for with these eyes I saw him to-day.

Cruelty. Now I would he were here, I would so dress the slave,

That I warrant he should bear me a mark to his grave.

First I would buffet him thus, then give him a fall;

Afterward I would dash out his brains at the wall.

Avarice. Hold your hands, you rude knave, or by God's body I swear,

I will quickly fetch my fist from your ear.

Perv. Doc. Tush, tush, it avails nought to chafen, or to chide,

It were more wisdom with speed some redress to provide.

Cruelty. Redress? now, by God's guts, I will never stay,

Till I find means to rid the beast out of the way.

I will cut him off the slampambs,[29] I hold him a crown,

Wheresoever I meet him, in country or town.

Ignorance. What order you will take, it were best make relation,

For mo wits, as you know, may do better than one.

Cruelty. I will do then whatsoever shall come in my head,

I force not, I,[30] so the villain were dead.

Ignorance. And of my furtherance, whatsoever I may do, you be sure,

Your good state again, if I can, to procure,

With my uttermost help to suppress yonder rascal,

For, by the mass, you papists I like best of all.

Perv. Doc. Then can we not do amiss, I conjecture lightly,

For where as all these come, Perverse Doctrine, Avarice, Ignorance and Cruelty:

There goeth the hare,[31] except all good luck go away—

But, sirs, it is good, lest your names you descry,

To transpose them after some other kind,

Else be sure with the people much hatred to find.

As for Perverse Doctrine, Sound Doctrine; for Ignorance, Simplicity:

With there colours of late ourselves cloaked have we.

Cruelty. What then shall I, Cruelty, be called in your judgment?

Perv. Doc. Marry, Justice with Severity, a virtue most excellent.

Avarice. What will you term Avarice, I pray you let me hear?

Perv. Doc. Even Frugality, for to that virtue it cometh most near.

Avarice. Content, by his wounds, I; but we must look to our feet,

Lest we stumble in these names, whensoever we meet.

Perv. Doc. Yea, see you take heed to that in any manner of case,

So may you delude the people in every place.

Cruelty. Come then, it is time hence that away we depart.

Ignorance. We are ready to follow with a most willing heart.

Avarice. But, sirs, because we have tarried so long,

If you be good fellows, let us part with a song.

Cruelty. I am pleased, and therefore let every man

Follow after in order, as well as he can.

The first Song.

Well handled, by the mass, on every side.

Come, Avarice; for we two will no longer abide. [Exit Cruelty and Avarice.

Perv. Doc. Farewell to you both, and God send you success,

Such as may glad us all in your present business.

Now they be departed, and we may not tarry,

For it lieth us upon all to be stirring, by Saint Mary.

New Custom prevaileth much everywhere,

But, no matter, they be fools that do give him such ear.

Let old custom prevail rather, it is better than new;

This all will confess, that think scripture is true.

Do as thy fathers have done before thee (quoth he):

Then shalt thou be certain in the right way to be.

And sure that is better than to follow the train,

That each man inventeth of his own proper brain.

Which hath brought the world to this case, as we see,

That every day we hear of some notorious heresy.

Yet all is the Gospel, whatsoever they say.

Well, if it chance that a dog hath a day,

Wo then to New Custom and all his mates, tush, tush,

No man the Gospel will esteem then a rush.

What will that other heretic do, Light of the Gospel, I pray?

Dare not once show his face more than we at this day.

But come, Ignorance, let us follow after apace,

For we have abiden all too long in this place.

Ignorance. Let us go then, but, by the mass, I am vengeance dry,

I pray let us drink at the alehouse hereby.

Perv. Doc. Content, in faith, thither with speed let us hie.

ACTUS III., SCENA 1.

Light of the Gospel, New Custom, Perverse Doctrine.

L. of Gospel. They be not this way, as far as I can see,

Unless they have hidden themselves up privily.

For in presence of Light of the Gospel and Primitive Constitution,

Undoubtedly such reprobates can have no habitation.

New Cus. Verily I do find it so even as you have said,

For at your sight they all fly away as dismayed.

Wherefore I have great cause to give you thanks, Light

Of the Gospel, that put thus my enemies to flight.

L. of Gospel. Nay, they be my enemies also, that be enemies to you.

Insomuch as your dealings be both virtuous and true.

For what is the Gospel else, whereof I am Light,

But truth, equity, verity and right?

They be enemies to God too, and all liars impure,

Insomuch as he is called Verity in the scripture.

And the lying lips, with speakers of vanity,

The Lord himself will revenge with extremity.

But see, what is he that approacheth so nigh?

New Cus. Of whom I told you: it is Perverse Doctrine verily.

L. of Gospel. Then let us a little step out of the way,

If haply we may hear what he will say.

Perv. Doc. Ah, sirrah, by my troth, there is a very good vein!

Ignorance hath well lined his cap for the rain!

I could have tarried longer there with a good will,

But, as the proverb saith, it is good to keep still

One head for the reckoning, both sober and wise;

Wherefore in this thing I have followed that guise.

Ignorance is but a dolt, it is I that must drudge,

For need (they say) maketh the old wife and man both to trudge.[32]

Such snares we shall lay for these heretics, I trust,

That New Custom and his fellows shall soon lie in the dust.

If Cruelty may prevail, he will never slack,

Till he have brought a thousand of them to a stake.

Avarice hath promised to do what in him lay,

Who hath been in great credit with the world alway.

But if Ignorance may get place, there shall we do well,

Then adieu all idle heretics and vain talk of the gospel!

For me Perverse Doctrine, this shall be my fetch,[33]

To keep constant the minds of all I can catch;

Lest these glosers sometime they chance to hear preaching,

And thereby be converted, and credit their teaching.

For I trust shortly to bring it to pass,

That less knowledge of the Gospel shall serve, by the mass.

L. of Gospel. Let us inclose him, that he may not fly,

Else will he be gone, when he doth us espy.

O imp of Antichrist, and seed of the devil!

Born to all wickedness, and nusled[34] in all evil.

Perv. Doc. Nay, thou stinking heretic, art thou there indeed?

According to thy naughtiness thou must look for to speed.

New Cus. God's holy word in no wise can be heresy,

Though so you term it never so falsely.

Perv. Doc. Ye precious whoreson, art thou there too?

I think you have pretended some harm me to do.

Help, help, I say, let me be gone at once,

Else I will smite thee in the face with my fist, by God's bones.

New Cus. You must be contented a little season to stay:

Light of the Gospel for your profit hath something to say.

Perv. Doc. I will hear none of your preachings, I promise you plain;

For whatever you speak, it is but in vain.

L. of Gospel. In vain it shall not be spoken, I know very well.

For God hath always given such power to his gospel,

That wherever or by whom declared it be,

It should redound unto his own honour and glory.

God is glorified in those whom he doth elect,

God is glorified in those also whom he doth reject.

The elect are saved by that in the world they believe;

But the other, because no credence they give

To the truth, cannot be but blameable,

Committing a fault of all faults most damnable.

For, Si ad eos non venissem, saith Christ our Saviour,

If I had not come unto them with the word, this is sure,

In far better case the unfaithful had been.

For in this one respect they had had no sin.

But where the truth is, and yet there contemned,

Of Christ his own mouth all such are condemned.

Thus the gospel of Christ, be it received or no,

Showeth the glory of God, wheresoever it go.

Perv. Doc. I were content to abide, and know your pleasure:

But for business at this time I have no leisure.

L. of Gospel. What leisure ought a man at all times more to have,

Than to endeavour both his body and soul for to save?

New Cus. For that care all other cares we must set aside.

Perv. Doc. Say on, then, for patiently I mind to abide.

L. of Gospel. Not to hear what is spoken is only sufficient,

But to put it in practice with sincere intent

Whatsoever is taught us concerning good-doing,

Expressing it plainly in our virtuous living.

Perv. Doc. Why, what would you have me in living express?

L. of Gospel. Even the gospel, which is nothing else, doubtless,

But amendment of life and renouncing of sin:

With displeasure toward yourself for the faults you were in.

Perv. Doc. How shall I displease myself in sin, I would know?

L. of Gospel. In considering that nothing bringeth man so low

Out of God's favour, as sin: nothing setteth him so high,

As loathing the same, and calling to him for his mercy.

Perv. Doc. Verily I am sorry for my forepassed demeanour,

But that cannot avail me but little, I am sure.

L. of Gospel. Why think you so? boldly tell me your mind.

Perv. Doc. Because God's mercy is far enough behind.

L. of Gospel. God's mercy is at hand, if you repent faithfully.

Perv. Doc. I repent my sins, and for them am sorry heartily;

But how shall I be sure mercy for to obtain?

L. of Gospel. Credit me truly, for my words are not vain,

I am Light of the Gospel, and have full authority

To pronounce to the penitent forgiveness of iniquity,

So that, in asking, you put your assurance to speed:

Then no doubt you have obtained mercy indeed.

Perv. Doc. This assurance how cometh it, declare, I pray you?

L. of Gospel. In thinking that Christ his words and promises are true;

And as he cannot deceive, so cannot be deceived,

Which faith of all Christians must needs be received.

Perv. Doc. What thing is faith, I pray you recite?

L. of Gospel. A substance of things not appearing in sight,

Yet which we look for, for so Saint Paul doth define,

To the Hebrews, the eleventh chapter and the first line.

Perv. Doc. How to purchase this faith, I would I could tell.

L. of Gospel. Certainly by me also, the Light of the Gospel;

For faith cometh by the word, when we read or hear,

As by the same Saint Paul it doth plainly appear,

Perv. Doc. Give me leave then to embrace you, I pray you heartily.

L. of Gospel. With all my very heart, I receive you courteously.

Perv. Doc. To thee I give most humble thanks, O God immortal,

That it hath pleased thee me from my wickedness to call;

And where as I deserved no mercy, but judgment,

Yet to pour down thy pardon on me most abundant,

Revoking me from reprobates and members of hell,

To win me in society with the Light of the Gospel.

L. of Gospel. Stand up, there is somewhat else yet behind.

Perv. Doc. I wholly yield myself to you: use me after your mind.

L. of Gospel. Perverse Doctrine you shall be called no more after this,

But Sincere Doctrine, as now I trust your true name is.

Perv. Doc. By God's grace, while I live, I will so endeavour,

That my life and my name may accord thus for ever.

L. of Gospel. Then all wicked company you must clean forsake,

And fly their society as a toad or a snake.

Perv. Doc. I abandon them quite, whatsoever they be.

New Cus. Well, Sincere Doctrine, hearken also unto me,

New Cus. Well, Sincere Doctrine, hearken also unto me,

Whom needs you must follow, if you will do well,

Since you have embraced the Light of the Gospel.

I am not New Custom, as you have been misled,

But am Primitive Constitution, from the very head

Of the church, which is Christ and his disciples all,

And from the fathers, at that time taking original.

By me then you must learn for your own behest,

And for all vocations what is judged the best.

Perv. Doc. I receive you gladly with thanks for your gentleness,

At your hands craving earnestly for my trespass forgiveness.

New Cus. It is easily forgiven.

Perv. Doc. Now as touching my apparel, what counsel do you give?

For I see well that, in the constitution primitive,

They used no such garment as I have on here,

But fashioned it after some other manner.

New Cus. So did they truly, I confess it indeed;

But in such things a man ought not to take so great heed,

For the wearing of a gown, cap, or any other garment,

Surely is a matter, as me-seemeth, indifferent,

Howbeit, wise princes, for a difference to be had,

Hath commanded the clergy in such sort to be clad;

But he who puts his religion in wearing the thing,

Or thinks himself more holy for the contrary doing,

Shall prove but a fool, of whatever condition

He be, for sure that is but mere superstition.

Other things there be, which have been abused,

Tolerable enough, if well they were used:

Wherefore use your apparel, as is comely and decent,

And not against scripture anywhere in my judgment.

L. of Gospel. No, sure: for God weigheth not (who is a sprite)

Of any vesture or outward appearance a mite,

So the conscience be pure, and to no sin a slave:

That is all which he most gladly would have.

New Cus. Well, these having declared and sufficiently taught,

And, I trust, on your part perceived as they ought:

By your patience, I mind to depart for a season.

L. of Gospel. If your business be so, it is but reason.

New Cus. With great thanks unto you, Light

of the Gospel, for the gentleness I have found,

At your hands, as of due desert I am bound.

L. of Gospel. The Lord be your guide, whither-soever you depart.

Perv. Doc. Humble thanks, sir, I yield you from the bottom of my heart.

Albeit in this part so small be my skill,

That I may not perform them according to my will.

New Cus. The peace of God be with you both for evermore. [Exit.

Edification entereth.

Wheresoever Light of the Gospel goeth before,

There I, Edification, do follow incontinent,

As unto the same a necessary consequent:

For though the letter always work not that effect,

Yet surely in the congregation of God's elect,

Where the light and force taketh place, there Edification

Of all right must I make my habitation.

Endeavour then always me to retain,

So shall your doctrine not be given in vain.

Perv. Doc. I receive you most gladly, and I trust in the Lord,

That for ever hereafter we shall well accord.

Edification. I trust so.

L. of Gospel. Fare you well, now you are not alone,

For this small while I must needs be gone.

Here, take at my hands this Testament-book,

And in mine absence therein I pray you earnestly look.

Perv. Doc. Your commandment shall be done, with thanks for your counsel.

L. of Gospel. Then shall ye sure find great delight in the gospel. [Exit.

Assurance entereth.

Edification without Assurance 'vaileth not much.

Yet where they both do meet, surely their force is such,

That to God's kingdom they open the way,

The sweet place of rest and perpetual joy.

For assurance in Christ Jesus without man's further merit,

Is fully sufficient God's favour to inherit:

Wherefore Light of the Gospel willed me so,

That to you, Edification, with all speed I should go:

So that with Sincere Doctrine we joined in unity,

Might in short time conduct him to God's Perfect Felicity.

Perv. Doc. I embrace you, Assurance, that bliss to obtain.

Assurance. Then be you assured, that you shall not be vain;

For if that Christ's words be faithful and just,

God's Perfect Felicity is not far hence, I trust.

God's Felicity entereth.

Verily, where Edification and Assurance in one are allied,

God's Felicity is at hand, it may not be denied,

Which he promiseth to such as unfeignedly crave,

With Assurance that certainly the same they shall have:

Which Felicity in person here I do represent,

Who by God himself to the faithful am sent,

Prepared for them, as he plainly hath said,

Since the time that the world's foundations were laid;

Wherefore great thanks unto him doubtless you owe,

That it would please him such gifts on you to bestow,

The most precious thing, which man's reason doth excel,

No mind can conceive, much less tongue can tell.

Perv. Doc. To him therefore let us give all manner praise,

That beareth such affection to mankind always.

O Lord, thine honour might be great in heaven so high.

And throughout the whole earth thy everlasting glory.

Give grace to thy people, that after this transitory

Life they may come to thy perfect felicity.

Edification. Defend thy church, O Christ, and thy holy congregation,

Both here in England and in every other nation.

That we thy truth may attain, and still follow the same,

To the salvation of our souls, and glory of thy name.

Assurance. Preserve our noble queen Elizabeth and her council all,[35]

With thy heavenly grace, sent from thy seat supernal.

Grant her and them long to live, her to reign, them to see,

What may always be best for the weal-public's commodity.[36]

The second Song.

RALPH ROISTER DOISTER

A COMEDY

By NICHOLAS UDALL

(1550)

[The only copy known of this admirable comedy, and that deficient of the title, was discovered in 1818, and is at present in the library of Eton College. It was reprinted in 1818, again in 1821 and 1830, and for the fourth time, with a copious account of Udall and his writings, by Mr W. D. Cooper, 1847. It was licensed and probably printed in 1566, but is quoted in Wilson's "Rule of Reason," 1551, before which date it was no doubt not only composed but performed.

"Ralph Roister Doister" is the first regular comedy in our language—a place of honour long held by "Gammer Gurton's Needle," which is an inferior, as well as a later, production.

Since the appearance of Mr Cooper's edition, Mr Furnivall has printed from the Royal MS. the pageant referred to at p. xiii. of Mr Cooper's introduction in one of the Ballad Society's volumes.]

THE PROLOGUE.

What creature is in health, either young or old,

But some mirth with modesty will be glad to use,

As we in this interlude shall now unfold?

Wherein all scurrility we utterly refuse;

Avoiding such mirth, wherein is abuse:

Knowing nothing more commendable for a man's recreation,

Than mirth which is used in an honest fashion.

For mirth prolongeth life, and causeth health;

Mirth recreates our spirits, and voideth pensiveness;

Mirth increaseth amity (not hind'ring our wealth);

Mirth is to be used both of more and less,

Being mixed with virtue in decent comeliness,

As we trust no good nature can gainsay the same:

Which mirth we intend to use, avoiding all blame.

The wise poets, long time heretofore,

Under merry comedies secrets did declare,

Wherein was contained very virtuous lore,

With mysteries and forewarnings very rare.

Such to write neither Plautus nor Terence did spare,

Which among the learned at this day bears the bell:

These with such other therein did excel.

Our comedy or interlude, which we intend to play,

Is named Roister Doister indeed,

Which against the vain-glorious doth inveigh,

Whose humour the roisting sort continually doth feed.

Thus, by your patience, we intend to proceed

In this our interlude, by God's leave and grace:

And here I take my leave for a certain space.

FINIS.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[37]

• Ralph Roister Doister, { A vain-glorious, cowardly
• { Blockhead.
• Matthew Merrygreek, a needy Humorist.
• Gawin Goodluck, a Merchant.
• Tristram Trusty, Friend of Gawin Goodluck.
• Dobinet Doughty, } Servants of Ralph.
• Harpax, }
• Truepenny, Servant of Dame Custance.
• Sim Suresby, Captain of a ship of Gawin Goodluck.
• A Scrivener.
• Dame Christian Custance, A Widow, betrothed to Gawin Goodluck.
• Madge Mumblecrust,   }
• Tibet Talkapace, } Servants of Dame Custance.
• Annot Aliface, }

RALPH ROISTER DOISTER.

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 1.

Matthew Merrygreek. He entereth singing.

As long liveth the merry man (they say),

As doth the sorry man, and longer by a day;

Yet the grasshopper, for all his summer piping,

Starveth in winter with hungry griping:

Therefore another said saw doth men advise,

That they be together both merry and wise.

This lesson must I practise or else, ere long,

With me, Matthew Merrygreek, it will be wrong.

Indeed men so call me; for, by him that us bought,

Whatever chance betide, I can take no thought.

Yet wisdom would that I did myself bethink,

Where to be provided this day of meat and drink;

For know ye that, for all this merry note of mine,

He might oppose me now, that should ask where I dine.

My living lieth here and there, of God's grace,

Sometime with this good man, sometime in that place;

Sometime Lewis Loiterer biddeth me come near;

Somewhiles Watkin Waster maketh us good cheer;

Sometime Davy Diceplayer, when he hath well cast,

Sometime Davy Diceplayer, when he hath well cast,

Maketh revel-rout, as long as it will last;

Sometime Tom Titivile[38] maketh us a feast;

Sometime with Sir Hugh Pie I am a bidden guest;

Sometime at Nichol Neverthrive's I get a sop;

Sometime I am feasted with Bryan Blinkinsop;

Sometime I hang on Hankyn Hoddydoddy's sleeve;

But this day on Ralph Roister Doister's, by his leave.

For truly of all men he is my chief banker,

Both for meat and money, and my chief shoot-anchor.[39]

Forsooth Roister Doister in that he doth say,

And require what ye will, ye shall have no nay.

But now of Roister Doister somewhat to express,

That ye may esteem him after his worthiness,

In these twenty towns, and seek him throughout,

Is not the like stock whereon to graff a lout.

All the day long is he facing and craking[40]

Of his great acts in fighting and fray-making;

But when Roister Doister is put to his proof,

To keep the Queen's peace[41] is more for his behoof.

If any woman smile, or cast him an eye,

Up is he to the hard ears in love by and by:

And in all the hot haste must she be his wife,

Else farewell his good days, and farewell his life!

Master Ralph Roister Doister is but dead and gone,

Except she on him take some compassion.

Then chief of council must be Matthew Merrygreek!

What, if I for marriage to such an one seek?

Then must I sooth[42] it, whatever it is;

For what he saith or doth cannot be amiss.

Hold by his yea and nay, be his nown white son:[43]

Praise and rouse him well, and ye have his heart won;

For so well liketh he his own fond fashions,

That he taketh pride of false commendations.

But such sport have I with him, as I would not lese,

Though I should be bound to live with bread and cheese.

For exalt him and have him as ye lust indeed;

Yea, to hold his finger in a hole for a need.

I can with a word make him fain or loth;

I can with as much make him pleased or wroth;

I can, when I will, make him merry and glad;

I can, when me lust, make him sorry and sad;

I can set him in hope, and eke in despair;

I can make him speak rough, and make him speak fair.

But I marvel I see him not all this same day:

I will seek him out. But lo! he cometh this way.

I have yond espied him sadly coming,

And in love, for twenty pound, by his gloming.[44]

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 2.

Ralph Roister Doister, Matthew Merrygreek.

R. Roister. Come, death, when thou wilt: I am weary of my life.

M. Merry. I told you, I, we should woo another wife. [Aside.

R.

Roister

. Why did God make me such a goodly person?

M. Merry. He is in, by the week; we shall have sport anon. [Aside.

R. Roister. And where is my trusty friend, Matthew Merrygreek?

M. Merry. I will make as I saw him not; he doth me seek. [Aside.

R. Roister. I have him espied, me-thinketh; yond is he;

Ho! Matthew Merrygreek, my friend, a word with thee.

M. Merry. I will not hear him, but make as I had haste. [Aside.

Farewell, all my good friends, the time away doth waste;

And the tide, they say, tarrieth for no man.

R. Roister. Thou must with thy good counsel help me, if thou can.

M. Merry. God keep thee, worshipful Master Roister Doister,

And farewell the lusty Master Roister Doister.

R. Roister. I must needs speak with thee a word or twain.

M. Merry. Within a month or two I will be here again.

Negligence in great affairs, ye know, may mar all.

R. Roister. Attend upon me now, and well reward thee I shall.

M. Merry. I have take my leave, and the tide is well-spent.

R. Roister. I die, except thou help; I pray thee be content.

Do thy part well now, and ask what thou wilt;

For without thy aid my matter is all spilt.

M. Merry. Then to serve your turn I will some pains take,

And let all mine own affairs alone for your sake.

R. Roister. My whole hope and trust resteth only in thee.

M. Merry. Then can ye not do amiss, whatever it be.

R. Roister. Gramercies, Merrygreek, most bound to thee I am.

M. Merry. But up with that heart, and speak out like a ram;

Ye speak like a capon that had the cough now:

Be of good cheer; anon ye shall do well enou'.

R. Roister. Upon thy comfort I will all things well handle.

M. Merry. So, lo! that is a breast to blow out a candle.[45]

But what is this great matter, I would fain know?

We shall find remedy therefore, I trow.

Do ye lack money? ye know mine old offers:

Ye have always a key to my purse and coffers.

R. Roister. I thank thee: had ever man such a friend!

M. Merry. Ye give unto me: I must needs to you lend.

R. Roister. Nay, I have money plenty all things to discharge.

M. Merry (aside). That knew I right well, when I made offer so large.

R. Roister. But it is no such matter.

M. Merry. What is it, then?

Are ye in danger of debt[46] to any man?

If ye be, take no thought, nor be not afraid;

Let them hardily take thought[47] how they shall be paid.

R. Roister. Tut, I owe nought.

M. Merry. What then? fear ye imprisonment?

R. Roister. No.

M. Merry. No; I wist ye offend not so to be shent;

But, if ye had, the Tower could not you so hold,

But to break out at all times ye would be bold.

What is it? hath any man threatened you to beat?

R. Roister. What is he that durst have put me in that heat?

He that beateth me, by His arms,[48] shall well find

That I will not be far from him, nor run behind.

M. Merry. That thing know all men, ever since ye overthrew

The fellow of the lion which Hercules slew.

But what is it then?

R. Roister. Of love I make my moan.

M. Merry. Ah, this foolish love! wil't ne'er let us alone?

But, because ye were refused the last day,

Ye said ye would ne'er more be entangled that way!

I would meddle no more, since I find all so unkind.

R. Roister. Yea, but I cannot so put love out of my mind.

M. Merry. But is your love, tell me first, in any wise

In the way of marriage or of merchandise?

If it may otherwise than lawful be found,

Ye get none of my help for an hundred pound.

R. Roister. No, by my troth, I would have her to my wife.

M. Merry. Then are ye a good man, and God save your life!

And what or who is she, with whom ye are in love?

R. Roister. A woman, whom I know not by what means to move.

M. Merry. Who is it?

R. Roister. A woman yond.

M. Merry. What is her name?

R. Roister. Her yonder.

M. Merry. Whom?

R. Roister. Mistress, ah—

M. Merry. Fy, fy for shame!

Love ye, and know not whom? but her yond! a woman!

We shall then get you a wife, I cannot tell when.

R. Roister. The fair woman that supped with us yesternight;

And I heard her name twice or thrice, and had it right.

M. Merry. Yea, ye may see ye ne'er take me to good cheer with you:

If ye had, I could have told you her name now.

R. Roister. I was to blame indeed, but the next time perchance—

And she dwelleth in this house—

M. Merry. What, Christian Custance?

R. Roister. Except I have her to my wife, I, I shall run mad.

M. Merry. Nay, unwise perhaps; but I warrant you for mad.[49]

R. Roister. I am utterly dead, unless I have my desire.

M. Merry. Where be the bellows that blew this sudden fire?

R. Roister. I hear she is worth a thousand pound and more.

M. Merry. Yea, but learn this one lesson of me afore:

An hundred pound of marriage-money, doubtless,

Is ever thirty pound sterling, or somewhat less;[50]

So that her thousand pound, if she be thrifty,

Is much near[51] about two hundred and fifty.

Howbeit, wooers and widows are never poor.

R. Roister. Is she a widow? I love her better therefore.

M. Merry. But I hear she hath made promise to another.

R. Roister. He shall go without her, and he were my brother.

M. Merry. I have heard say, I am right well advised,

That she hath to Gawin Goodluck promised.

R. Roister. What is that Gawin Goodluck?

M. Merry. A merchant-man.

R. Roister. Shall he speed afore me? Nay, sir, by sweet Saint Anne!

Ah, sir! Backare, quod Mortimer to his sow:[52]

I will have her mine own self, I make God a vow;

For, I tell thee, she is worth a thousand pound.

M. Merry. Yet a fitter wife for your maship[53] might be found;

Such a goodly man as you might get one with land,

Besides pounds of gold a thousand and a thousand,

And a thousand and a thousand and a thousand,

And so to the sum of twenty hundred thousand:

Your most goodly personage is worthy of no less.

R. Roister. I am sorry God made me so comely, doubtless;

For that maketh me each where so highly favoured,

And all women on me so enamoured.

M. Merry. Enamoured, quod you? have ye spied out that?

Ah, sir, marry, now I see you know what is what.

Enamoured, ka?[54] marry, sir, say that again;

But I thought not ye had marked it so plain.

R. Roister. Yes, each where they gaze all upon me, and stare.

M. Merry. Yea, malkin, I warrant you, as much as they dare.

And ye will not believe what they say in the street,

When your maship passeth by, all such as I meet,

That sometimes I can scarce find what answer to make.

Who is this? (saith one) Sir Launcelot du Lake?[55]

Who is this? Great Guy of Warwick, saith another?

No (say I), it is the thirteenth Hercules brother.

Who is this? noble Hector of Troy? saith the third:

No, but of the same nest (say I) it is a bird.

Who is this? great Goliah, Sampson, or Colbrand?

No (say I), but it is a brute of the aly land.[56]

Who is this? great Alexander or Charlemagne?

No, it is the tenth Worthy, say I to them again:

I know not if I said well—

R. Roister. Yes, for so I am.

M. Merry. Yea, for there were but nine worthies, before ye came.

To some others the third Cato I do you call;[57]

And so, as well as I can, I answer them all.

Sir, I pray you what lord or great gentleman is this?

Master Ralph Roister Doister, dame (say I), i-wis.

O Lord (saith she then), what a goodly man it is!

Would Christ I had such a husband as he is!

O Lord (say some), that the sight of his face we lack!

It is enough for you (say I) to see his back;

His face is for ladies of high and noble parages,[58]

With whom he hardly 'scapeth great marriages.

With much more than this and much otherwise.

R. Roister. I can thee thank,[59] that thou canst such answers devise:

But I perceive thou dost me throughly know.

M. Merry. I mark your manners for mine own learning, I trow.

But such is your beauty, and such are your acts,

Such is your personage, and such are your facts,[60]

That all women, fair and foul, more and less,

They eye you, they lub[61] you, they talk of you doubtless.

Your pleasant look maketh them all merry:

Ye pass not by, but they laugh, till they be weary:

Yea, and money could I have, the truth to tell,

Of many, to bring you that way where they dwell.

R. Roister. Merrygreek, for this thy reporting well of me—

M. Merry. What should I else, sir? it is my duty, pardè.

R. Roister. I promise thou shalt not lack, while I have a groat.

M. Merry. Faith, sir, and I ne'er had more need of a new coat.

R. Roister. Thou shalt have one to-morrow, and gold for to spend.

M. Merry. Then I trust to bring the day to a good end.

For as for mine own part, having money enou',

I could live only with the remembrance of you—

But now to your widow, whom you love so hot—

R. Roister. By Cock, thou sayest truth, I had almost forgot.

M. Merry. What, if Christian Custance will not have you, what?

R. Roister. Have me? yes, I warrant you, never doubt of that:

I know she loveth me, but she dare not speak.

M. Merry. Indeed, meet it were somebody should it break.

R. Roister. She looked on me twenty times yesternight,

And laughed so—

M. Merry. That she could not sit upright.

R. Roister. No, faith, could she not.

M. Merry. No, even such a thing I cast.[62]

R. Roister. But for wooing, thou knowest, women are shamefast.

But, and she knew my mind, I know she would be glad,

And think it the best chance that ever she had.

M. Merry. To her, then, like a man, and be bold forth to start:

Wooers never speed well, that have a false heart.

R. Roister. What may I best do?

M. Merry. Sir, remain ye awhile [here];[63]

Ere long one or other of her house will appear.

Ye know my mind.

R. Roister. Yea, now hardily let me alone.

M. Merry. In the meantime, sir, if you please, I will home,

And call your musicians; for in this your case

It would set you forth, and all your wooing grace,

Ye may not lack your instruments to play and sing.

R. Roister. Thou knowest I can do that—

M. Merry. As well as anything.

Shall I go call your folks, that we may show a cast?

R. Roister. Yea, run, I beseech thee, in all possible haste,

M. Merry. I go. [Exeat.

R. Roister. Yea, for I love singing out of measure,

It comforteth my spirits, and doth me great pleasure.

But who cometh forth yond from my sweetheart Custance?

My matter frameth well; this is a lucky chance.

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 3.

Madge Mumblecrust[64] spinning on the distaff: Tibet Talkapace sowing: Annot Alyface knitting: R. Roister behind.

M. Mumbl. If this distaff were spun, Margery Mumblecrust—

Tib. Talk. Where good stale ale is, will drink no water, I trust.

M. Mumbl. Dame Custance hath promised us good ale and white bread.

Tib. Talk. If she keep not promise, I will beshrew her head.

But it will be stark night, before I shall have done.

R. Roister (aside). I will stand here awhile, and talk with them anon.

I hear them speak of Custance, which doth my heart good;

To hear her name spoken doth even comfort my blood.

M. Mumbl. Sit down to your work, Tibet, like a good girl.

Tib. Talk. Nurse, meddle you with your spindle and your whirl.

No haste but good, Madge Mumblecrust; for whip and whur,[65]

The old proverb doth say, never made good fur.

M. Mumbl. Well, ye will sit down to your work anon, I trust.

Tib. Talk. Soft fire maketh sweet malt,[66] good Madge Mumblecrust,

M. Mumbl. And sweet malt maketh jolly good ale for the nonce.

Tib. Talk. Which will slide down the lane[67] without any bones. [Cantet.[68]

Old brown-bread crusts must have much good mumbling;

But good ale down your throat hath good easy tumbling.

R. Roister (aside). The jolliest wench that ere I heard! Little mouse,

May I not rejoice that she shall dwell in my house?

Tib. Talk. So, sirrah,[69] now this gear beginneth for to frame.

M. Mumbl. Thanks to God, though your work stand still, your
tongue is not lame.

Tib. Talk. And though your teeth be gone, both so sharp and so fine,

Yet your tongue can renne on pattens as well as mine.

M. Mumbl. Ye were not for nought named Tib Talkapace.

Tib. Talk. Doth my talk grieve you? Alack, God save your grace!

M. Mumbl. I hold a groat, ye will drink anon for this gear.

Tib. Talk. And I will not pray you the stripes for me to bear.

M. Mumbl. I hold a penny, ye will drink without a cup.

Tib. Talk. Whereinsoe'er ye drink, I wot ye drink all up.

An. Alyface. By Cock,[70] and well sewed, my good Tibet Talkapace.

Tib. Talk. And e'en as well knit, my nown Annot Alyface.

R. Roister (aside). See what a sort she keepeth, that must be my wife:

Shall not I, when I have her, lead a merry life?

Tib. Talk. Welcome, my good wench, and sit here by me just.

An. Alyface. And how doth our old beldame here, Madge
Mumblecrust?

Tib. Talk. Chide and find fault, and threaten to complain.

An. Alyface. To make us poor girls shent[71] to her is small gain.

M. Mumbl. I did neither chide, nor complain, nor threaten.

R. Roister (aside). It would grieve my heart to see one of them beaten.

M. Mumbl. I did nothing but bid her work, and hold her peace.

Tib. Talk. So would I, if you could your clattering cease;

But the devil cannot make old trot hold her tongue.

An. Alyface. Let all these matters pass, and we three sing a song:

So shall we pleasantly both the time beguile now,

And eke despatch all our works, ere we can tell how.

Tib. Talk. I shrew them that say nay, and that shall not be I.

M. Mumbl. And I am well content.

Tib. Talk. Sing on then by and by.

R. Roister (aside). And I will not away, but listen to their song;

Yet Merrygreek and my folks tarry very long.

Tib., An., and Margery do sing here.[72]

Pipe, merry Annot, &c.

Trilla, Trilla, Trillary.

Work, Tibet; work, Annot; work, Margery;

Sew, Tibet; knit, Annot; spin, Margery.

Let us see who will win the victory.

Tib. Talk. This sleeve is not willing to be sewed, I trow.

A small thing might make me all in the ground to throw.

Then they sing again.

Pipe, merry Annot, &c.

Trilla, Trilla, Trillary.

What, Tibet! what, Annot! what, Margery!

Ye sleep, but we do not, that shall we try,

Your fingers be numbed, our work will not lie.

Tib. Talk. If ye do so again—well, I would advise you nay:

In good sooth, one stop more, and I make holyday!

They sing the third time.

Pipe, merry Annot, &c.

Trilla, Trilla, Trillary.

Now, Tibbet; now, Annot; now, Margery;

Now whippet apace for the maistry:

But it will not be, our mouth is so dry.

Tib Talk. Ah, each finger is a thumb to-day, me-think:

I care not to let all alone, choose it swim or sink.

They sing the fourth time.

Pipe, merry Annot, &c.

Trilla, Trilla, Trillary.

When, Tibbet? when, Annot? when, Margery?

I will not,—I can not,—no more can I.

Then give we all over, and there let it lie!

[Let her cast down her work.

Tib. Talk. There it lieth! the worst is but a curried coat.

Tut, I am used thereto: I care not a groat.

An. Alyface. Have we done singing since? then will I in again:

Here I found you, and here I leave both twain. [Exeat.

M. Mumbl. And I will not be long after. Tib. Talkapace!

[She discovers R. Roister Doister.

Tib. Talk. What is the matter?

M. Mumbl. Yond stood a man all this space,

And hath heard all that ever we spake together.

Tib. Talk. Marry, the more lout he for his coming hither,

And the less good he can to listen maidens talk.

I care not, and I go bid him hence for to walk:

It were well done to know what he maketh here-away.

R. Roister. Now might I speak to them, if I wist what to say. [Aside.

M. Mumbl. Nay, we will go both of's, and see what he is.

R. Roister (coming forward). One that heard all your talk and singing, i-wis.

Tib. Talk. The more to blame you: a good thrifty husband

Would elsewhere have had some better matters in hand.

R. Roister. I did it for no harm; but for good love I bear

To your dame Mistress Custance I did your talk hear.

And, mistress nurse, I will kiss you for acquaintance.

M. Mumbl. I come anon, sir.

Tib. Talk. Faith, I would our dame Custance Saw this gear.

M. Mumbl. I must first wipe all clean, yea, I must.

Tib. Talk. Ill 'chieve it, doting fool, but it must be cust.

M. Mumbl. God 'ield you, sir; chad not so much, i-chotte not when:

Ne'er since chwas born, chwine,[73] of such a gay gentleman.

R. Roister. I will kiss you too, maiden, for the good will I bear ye.

Tib. Talk. No, forsooth, by your leave, ye shall not kiss me.

R. Roister. Yes, be not afeard; I do not disdain you a whit.

Tib. Talk. Why should I fear you? I have not so little wit;

Ye are but a man, I know very well.

R. Roister. Why, then?

Tib. Talk. Forsooth, for I will not: I use not to kiss men.

R. Roister. I would fain kiss you too, good maiden, if I might.

Tib. Talk. What should that need?

R. Roister. But to honour you, by this light.

I use to kiss all them that I love, to God I vow.

Tib. Talk. Yea, sir? I pray you, when did ye last kiss your cow?

R. Roister. Ye might be proud to kiss me, if ye were wise.

Tib. Talk. What promotion were therein?

R. Roister. Nurse is not so nice.

Tib. Talk. Well, I have not been taught to kissing and licking.

R. Roister. Yet, I thank you, mistress nurse, ye made no sticking.

M. Mumbl. I will not stick for a koss with such a man as you.

Tib. Talk. They that lust!—I will again to my sewing now.

An. Alyface.[74] Tidings, ho! tidings! dame Custance greeteth you well.

R. Roister. Whom? me?

An. Alyface. You, sir? No, sir: I do no such tale tell.

R. Roister. But, and she knew me here!—

An.

Alyface

. Tibet Talkapace,

Your mistress Custance and mine must speak with your grace.

Tib. Talk. With me?

An. Alyface. You must come in to her, out of all doubts.

Tib. Talk. And my work not half-done? a mischief on all louts!

[Ex. amb.

R. Roister. Ah, good sweet nurse!

M. Mumbl. Ah, good sweet gentleman!

R. Roister. Who?[75]

M. Mumbl. Nay, I cannot tell, sir, but what thing would you?

R. Roister. How doth sweet Custance, my heart of gold, tell me how?

M. Mumbl. She doth very well, sir, and command[s] me to you.

R. Roister. To me?

M. Mumbl. Yea, to you, sir.

R. Roister. To me? nurse, tell me plain,

M. Mumbl. Yea.

R. Roister. That word maketh me alive again.

M. Mumbl. She command[ed] me to one last day, whoe'er it was.

R. Roister. That was e'en to me and none other, by the mass.

M. Mumbl. I cannot tell you surely, but one it was.

R. Roister. It was I and none other—this cometh to good pass.

I promise thee, nurse, I favour her.

M. Mumbl. E'en so, sir?

R. Roister. Bid her sue to me for marriage.

M. Mumbl. E'en so, sir?

R. Roister. And surely for thy sake she shall speed.

M. Mumbl. E'en so, sir?

R. Roister. I shall be contented to take her.

M. Mumbl. E'en so, sir?

R. Roister. But at thy request and for thy sake.

M. Mumbl. E'en so, sir?

R. Roister. And, come, hark in thine ear what to say.

M. Mumbl. E'en so, sir?

[Here let him tell her a great long tale in her ear.

ACTUS I., SCÆNA IV.

Matthew Merrygreek, Dobinet Doughty, Harpax, Ralph Roister, Margery Mumblecrust.

M. Merry. Come on, sirs, apace, and 'quit yourselves like men.

Your pains shall be rewarded.

D. Dough. But, I wot not when.

M. Merry. Do your master worship, as ye have done in time past.

D. Dough. Speak to them: of mine office he shall have a cast.

M. Merry. Harpax, look that thou do well too, and thy fellow.

Harpax. I warrant, if he will mine example follow.

M. Merry. Court'sy, whoresons: duck you and crouch at every word.

D. Dough. Yes, whether our master speak earnest or bord.[76]

M. Merry. For this lieth upon his preferment indeed.

D. Dough. Oft is he a wooer, but never doth he speed.

M. Merry. But with whom is he now so sadly rounding[77] yond?

D. Dough. With Nobs nicebectur miserere[78] fond.

M. Merry. God be at your wedding: be ye sped already?

I did not suppose that your love was so greedy.

I perceive now ye have chose of devotion;

And joy have ye, lady, of your promotion!

R. Roister. Tush, fool, thou art deceived, this is not she.

M. Merry. Well, mock[79] much of her, and keep her well, I 'vise ye.

I will take no charge of such a fair piece keeping.

M. Mumbl. What aileth this fellow? he driveth me to weeping.

M. Merry. What, weep on the wedding-day? be merry, woman:

Though I say it, ye have chose a good gentleman.

R. Roister. Kock's nowns,[80] what meanest thou, man? tut, a whistle.

M. Merry. Ah, sir, be good to her; she is but a gristle:

Ah, sweet lamb and coney!

R. Roister. Tut, thou art deceived.

M. Merry. Weep no more, lady, ye shall be well received.

Up with some merry noise,[81] sirs, to bring home the bride!

R. Roister. Gog's arms, knave, art thou mad? I tell thee thou art wide.

M. Merry. Then, ye intend by night to have her home brought.

R. Roister. I tell thee, no.

M. Merry. How then?

R. Roister. 'Tis neither meant ne thought.

M. Merry. What shall we then do with her?

R. Roister. Ah, foolish harebrain,

This is not she.

M. Merry. No, is [not]. Why, then, unsaid again!

And what young girl is this with your maship so bold?

R. Roister. A girl?

M. Merry. Yea, I daresay, scarce yet threescore year old.

R. Roister. This same is the fair widow's nurse, of whom ye wot.

M. Merry. Is she but a nurse of a house? hence home, old trot!

Hence at once!

R. Roister. No, no.

M. Merry. What, an' please your maship,

A nurse talk so homely with one of your worship?

R. Roister. I will have it so; it is my pleasure and will.

M. Merry. Then I am content. Nurse, come again, tarry still.

R. Roister. What, she will help forward this my suit, for her part.

M. Merry. Then is't mine own pigsny, and blessing on my heart!

R. Roister. This is our best friend, man.

M. Merry. Then teach her what to say.

M. Mumbl. I am taught already.

M. Merry. Then go, make no delay.

R. Roister. Yet hark, one word in thine ear.

M. Merry. Back, sirs, from his tail!

R. Roister. Back, villains; will ye be privy of my counsel?

M. Merry. Back, sirs! So. I told you afore ye would be shent.

R. Roister. She shall have the first day a whole peck of argent.

M. Mumbl. A peck! Nomine Patris, have ye so much spare?

R. Roister. Yea, and a cart-load thereto, or else were it bare;

Besides other moveables, household stuff and land.

M. Mumbl. Have ye lands too?

R. Roister. An hundred marks.

M. Merry. Yea, a thousand.

M. Mumbl. And have ye cattle too? and sheep too?

R. Roister. Yea, a few.

M. Merry. He is ashamed the number of them to show.

E'en round about him as many thousand sheep goes,

As he and thou, and I too, have fingers and toes.

M. Mumbl. And how many years old be you?

R. Roister. Forty at least.

M. Merry. Yea, and thrice forty to them.

R. Roister. Nay, thou dost jest.

I am not so old: thou misreckonest my years.

M. Merry. I know that; but my mind was on bullocks and steers.

M. Mumbl. And what shall I show her your mastership's name is?

R. Roister. Nay, she shall make suit, ere she know that, i-wis.

M. Mumbl. Yet let me somewhat know.

M. Merry. This is he, understand

That killed the blue spider in Blanchepowder land.

M. Mumbl. Yea, Jesus, William, zee, law! did he zo, law?

M. Merry. Yea, and the last elephant that ever he saw,

As the beast passed by, he start out of a busk,[82]

And e'en with pure strength of arms plucked out his great tusk.

M. Mumbl. Jesus, Nomine Patris, what a thing was that!

R. Roister. Yea, but, Merrygreek, one thing thou hast forgot.

M. Merry. What?

R. Roister. Of th' other elephant.

M. Merry. O, him that fled away?

R. Roister. Yea.

M. Merry. Yea, he knew that his match was in place that day.

Tut, he bet the King of Crickets on Christmas-day,

That he crept in a hole, and not a word to say.

M. Mumbl. A sore man, by zembletee.[83]

M. Merry. Why, he wrong a club

Once in a fray out of the hand of Belzebub.

R. Roister. And how when Mumfision—

M. Merry. O, your costreling

Bore the lantern a-field so before the gozeling——

Nay, that is too long a matter now to be told.

Never ask his name, nurse, I warrant thee, be bold:

He conquered in one day from Rome to Naples,

And won towns, nurse, as fast as thou canst make apples.

M. Mumbl. O Lord! my heart quaketh for fear, he is so sore.

R. Roister. Thou makest her too much afeard, Merrygreek; no more.

This tale would fear my sweetheart Custance right evil.

M. Merry. Nay, let her take him, nurse, and fear not the devil.

But thus is our song dasht—sirs, ye may home again. [To the music.

R. Roister. No, shall they not. I charge you all here to remain:

The villain slaves!—a whole day, ere they can be found!

M. Merry. Couch on your marybones, whoresons, down to the ground!

Was it meet he should tarry so long in one place,

Without harmony of music or some solace?

Whoso hath such bees as your master in his head

Had need to have his spirits with music be fed.

By your mastership's licence—

R. Roister. What is that? a mote!

M. Merry. No, it was a fowl's feather had light on your coat.

R. Roister. I was nigh no feathers, since I came from my bed.

M. Merry. No, sir, it was a hair that was fall from your head.

R. Roister. My men come, when it please them.

M. Merry. By your leave—

R. Roister. What is that?

M. Merry. Your gown was foul spotted with the foot[84] of a gnat.

R. Roister. Their master to offend they are nothing afeard.

What now?

M. Merry. A lousy hair from your mastership's beard.

And sir, for nurse's sake, pardon this one offence.

Omnes Famulæ. We shall not after this show the like negligence.

R. Roister. I pardon you this once; and, come, sing ne'er the worse.

M. Merry. How like you the goodness of this gentleman, nurse?

M. Mumbl. God save his mastership, that can so his men forgive!

And I will hear them sing, ere I go, by his leave.

R. Roister. Marry, and thou shalt, wench: come, we two will dance.

M. Mumbl. Nay, I will by mine own self foot the song perchance.

R. Roister. Go it, sirs, lustily. [Retires to write a letter.

M. Mumbl. Pipe up a merry note.

Let me hear it played, I will foot it for a groat. [Cantent.[85]

R. Roister. Now, nurse, take this same letter here to thy mistress;

And as my trust is in thee, ply my business.

M. Mumbl. It shall be done.

M. Merry. Who made it?

R. Roister. I wrote it each whit.

M. Merry. Then needs it no mending?

R. Roister. No, no.

M. Merry. No, I know your wit.

R. Roister. I warrant it well.

M. Mumbl. It shall be delivered;

But, if ye speed, shall I be considered?

M. Merry. Whough! dost thou doubt of that?

M. Mumbl. What shall I have?

M. Merry. An hundred times more than thou canst devise to crave.

M. Mumbl. Shall I have some new gear, for my old is all spent?

M. Merry. The worst kitchen wench shall go in ladies' raiment.

M. Mumbl. Yea?

M. Merry. And the worst drudge in the house shall go better

Than your mistress doth now.

M. Mumbl. Then I trudge with your letter.

R. Roister. Now may I repose me: Custance is mine own.

Let us sing and play homeward, that it may be known.

M. Merry. But are you sure that your letter is well enough?

R. Roister. I wrote it myself.

M. Merry. Then sing we to dinner. [Here they sing, and go out singing.

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 5.

Christian Custance, Margery Mumblecrust.

C. Custance. Who took thee this letter, Margery Mumblecrust?

M. Mumbl. A lusty gay bachelor took it me of trust,

And if ye seek to him, he will love your doing.

C. Custance. Yea, but where learned he that manner of wooing?

M. Mumbl. If to sue to him you will any pains take,

He will have you to his wife (he saith) for my sake.

C. Custance. Some wise gentleman belike: I am bespoken.

And I thought verily this had been some token

From my dear spouse,[86] Gawin Goodluck, whom when him please,

God luckily send home to both our hearts' ease!

M. Mumbl. A jolly man it is, I wot well by report,

And would have you to him for marriage resort.

Best open the writing, and see what it doth speak.

C. Custance. At this time, nurse, I will neither read ne break.

M. Mumbl. He promised to give you a whole peck of gold.

C. Custance. Perchance, [t'will] lack of a pint, when it shall be all told.

M. Mumbl. I would take a gay rich husband, and I were you.

C. Custance. In good sooth, Madge, e'en so would I, if I were thou.[87]

But no more of this fond talk now; let us go in,

And see thou no more move me folly to begin;

Nor bring me no mo letters for no man's pleasure,

But thou know from whom.

M. Mumbl. I warrant, ye shall be sure.

ACTUS II., SCÆNA I.[88]

Dobinet Doughty.

D. Dough. Where is the house I go to, before or behind?

I know not where nor when, nor how I shall it find.

If I had ten men's bodies and legs, and strength,

This trotting that I have must needs lame me at length.

And now that my master is new-set on wooing,

I trust there shall none of us find lack of doing:

Two pair of shoes a day will now be too little

To serve me, I must trot to and fro so mickle.

"Go bear me this token;" "carry me this letter;"

Now this is the best way; now that way is better.

"Up before day, sirs, I charge you, an hour or twain;

Trudge, do me this message, and bring word quick again."

If one miss but a minute, then, "His arms and wounds,

I would not have slacked for ten thousand pounds!

Nay see, I beseech you, if my most trusty page

Go not now about to hinder my marriage."

So fervent hot wooing, and so far from wiving,

I trow, never was any creature living;

With every woman is he in some love's-pang;

Then up to our lute at midnight, twangledom twang.

Then twang with our sonnets, and twang with our dumps,[89]

And heigho from our heart, as heavy as lead-lumps.

Then to our recorder[90] with toodleloodle poop,

As the howlet out of an ivy bush should hoop.

Anon to our gittern,[91] thrumpledum thrumpledum thrum,

Thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrum.

Of songs and ballads also he is a maker,

And that can he as finely do as Jack Raker;[92]

Yea, and extempore will he ditties compose;

Foolish Marsias ne'er made the like, I suppose;

Yet must we sing them, as good stuff, I undertake,

As for such a pen-man is well fitting to make.

"Ah, for these long nights! heigho! when will it be day?

I fear, ere I come, she will be wooed away."

Then, when answer is made, that it may not be,

"O death, why comest thou not?" by and by saith he.

But then from his heart to put away sorrow,

He is as far in with some new love next morrow.

But, in the mean season, we trudge and we trot:

From dayspring to midnight I sit not nor rest not.

And now am I sent to dame Christian Custance;

But I fear it will end with a mock for pastance.[93]

I bring her a ring with a token in a clout,

And by all guess this same is her house out of doubt.

I know it now perfect, I am in my right way;

And lo! yond the old nurse that was with us last day.

ACTUS II., SCÆNA 2.

Madge Mumblecrust, Dobinet Doughty.

M. Mumbl. I was ne'er so shoke[94] up afore, since I was born:

That our mistress could not have had chid, I would have sworn.

And I pray God I die, if I meant any harm;

But for my lifetime this shall be to me a charm.

D. Dough. God you save and see, nurse! and how is it with you?

M. Mumbl. Marry, a great deal the worse it is for such as thou.

D. Dough. For me? Why so?

M. Mumbl. Why, were not thou one of them, say,

That sang and played here with the gentleman last day?

D. Dough. Yes, and he would know, if you have for him spoken,

And prays you to deliver this ring and token.

M. Mumbl. Now, by the token that God tokened, brother,

I will deliver no token, one nor other.

I have once been so shent for your master's pleasure,

As I will not be again for all his treasure.

D. Dough. He will thank you, woman.

M. Mumbl. I will none of his thank. [Exit M. Mumbl.[95]

D. Dough. I ween I am a prophet; this gear will prove blank.

But what, should I home again without answer go?

It were better go to Rome on my head than so[96].

I will tarry here this month, but some of the house

Shall take it of me, and then I care not a louse.

But yonder cometh forth a wench or a lad:

If he have not one Lombard's touch[97], my luck is bad.

ACTUS II., SCÆNA 3.

TRUEPENNY, D. DOUGH., TIBET T., ANNOT AL.

Truepenny. I am clean lost for lack of merry company;

We 'gree not half well within, our wenches and I:

They will command like mistresses, they will forbid;

If they be not served, Truepenny must be chid.

Let them be as merry now, as ye can desire:

With turning of a hand our mirth lieth in the mire.

I cannot skill of such changeable mettle,

There is nothing with them but, In dock, out nettle.[98]

D. Dough. Whether is it better that I speak to him first,

Or he first to me? It is good to cast the worst.

If I begin first, he will smell all my purpose:

Otherwise I shall not need anything to disclose. [Aside.

Truepenny. What boy have we yonder? I will see what he is.

D. Dough. He cometh to me. It is hereabout, i-wis. [Aside.

Truepenny. Wouldest thou ought, friend, that thou lookest so about?

D. Dough. Yea; but whether ye can help me or no, I doubt.

I seek to one Mistress Custance house here dwelling.

Truepenny. It is my mistress ye seek to, by your telling.

D. Dough. Is there any of that name here but she?

Truepenny. Not one in all the whole town that I know, pardè.

D. Dough. A widow she is, I trow.

Truepenny. And what, and she be?

D. Dough. But ensured to an husband?

Truepenny. Yea, so think we.

D. Dough. And I dwell with her husband that trusteth to be.

Truepenny. In faith, then must thou needs be welcome to me.

Let us, for acquaintance, shake hands together,

And, whate'er thou be, heartily welcome hither.

Tib. Talk.[99] Well, Truepenny, never but flinging?

An. Alyface. And frisking?

Truepenny. Well, Tibet and Annot, still swinging and whisking?

Tib. Talk. But ye roil abroad.

An. Alyface. In the street everywhere.

Truepenny. Where are ye twain? in chambers, when ye meet me there?

But come hither, fools: I have one now by the hand,

Servant to him that must be our mistress' husband;

Bid him welcome.

An. Alyface. To me truly he is welcome.

Tib. Talk. Forsooth and, as I may say, heartily welcome.

D. Dough. I thank you, mistress maids.

An. Alyface. I hope we shall better know.

Tib. Talk. And when will our new master come?

D. Dough. Shortly, I trow.

Tib. Talk. I would it were to-morrow; for, till he resort,

Our mistress, being a widow, hath small comfort:

And I heard our nurse speak of an husband to-day,

Ready for our mistress; a rich man and a gay.

And we shall go in our French hoods every day:

In our silk cassocks (I warrant you) fresh and gay;

In our trick ferdegews and billiments of gold;

Brave in our suits of change, seven double fold.

Then shall ye see Tibet, sirs, tread the moss so trim;

Nay, why said I tread? ye shall see her glide and swim;

Not lumperdy-clumperdy, like our spaniel Rig.

Truepenny. Marry, then, prick-me-dainty; come, toast me a fig.

Who shall then know our Tib Talkapace, trow ye?

An. Alyface. And why not Annot Alyface as fine as she?

Truepenny. And what, had Tom Truepenny a father or none?

An. Alyface. Then our pretty new-come-man will look to be one.

Truepenny. We four, I trust, shall be a jolly merry knot.

Shall we sing a fit[100] to welcome our friend, Annot?

An. Alyface. Perchance, he cannot sing.

D. Dough. I am at all assays.

Tib. Talk. By Cock, and the better welcome to us always.

Here they sing:

A thing very fit

For them that have wit,

And are fellows knit,

Servants in one house to be;

As fast for to sit,

And not oft to flit,

Nor vary a whit,

But lovingly to agree.

No man complaining,

No other disdaining,

For loss or for gaining.

But fellows or friends to be;

No grudge remaining,

No work refraining,

Nor help restraining,

But lovingly to agree.

No man for despite,

By word or by write,

His fellow to twite,

But further in honesty;

No good turns entwite,

Nor old sores recite,

But let all go quite,

And lovingly to agree.

After drudgery,

When they be weary,

Then to be merry,

To laugh and sing they be free;

With chip and cherry,

Heigh derry derry,

Trill on the bery,

And lovingly to agree.

Tib. Talk. Will you now in with us unto our mistress go?

D. Dough. I have first for my master an errand or two.

But I have here from him a token and a ring;

They shall have most thank of her, that first doth it bring.

Tib. Talk. Marry, that will I.

Truepenny. See, and Tibet snatch not now!

Tib. Talk. And why may not I, sir, get thanks as well as you? [Exit.

An. Alyface. Yet get ye not all, we will go with you both,

And have part of your thanks, be ye never so loth. [Exit omnes.

D. Dough. So my hands are rid of it, I care for no more.

I may now return home: so durst I not afore. [Exit.

ACTUS II., SCÆNA 4.

C. Custance, Tibet, Annot Alyface, Truepenny.

C. Custance. Nay, come forth all three; and come hither, pretty maid:

Will not so many forewarnings make you afraid?

Tib. Talk. Yes, forsooth.

C. Custance. But still be a runner up and down?

Still be a bringer of tidings and tokens to town?

Tib. Talk. No, forsooth, mistress.

C. Custance. Is all your delight and joy

In whisking and ramping abroad, like a Tom-boy?

Tib. Talk. Forsooth, these were there too, Annot and Truepenny.

Truepenny. Yea, but ye alone took it, ye cannot deny.

An. Alyface. Yea, that ye did.

Tib. Talk. But, if I had not, ye twain would.

C. Custance. You great calf, ye should have more wit, so ye should.

[To Truep.

But why should any of you take such things in hand?

Tib. Talk. Because it came from him that must be your husband.

C. Custance. How do ye know that?

Tib. Talk. Forsooth, the boy did say so.

C. Custance. What was his name?

An. Alyface. We asked not.

C. Custance. No, did [ye not?]

An. Alyface. He is not far gone, of likelihood.

Truepenny. I will see.

C. Custance. If thou canst find him in the street, bring him to me.

Truepenny. Yes. [Exeat.

C. Custance. Well, ye naughty girls, if ever I perceive

That henceforth you do letters or tokens receive,

To bring unto me from any person or place,

Except ye first show me the party face to face,

Either thou, or thou, full truly abi'[101] thou shalt.

Tib. Talk. Pardon this, and the next time powder me in salt.

C. Custance. I shall make all girls by you twain to beware.

Tib. Talk. If I ever offend again, do not me spare.

But if ever I see that false boy any more,

By your mistresship's licence, I tell you afore,

I will rather have my coat twenty times swinged,

Than on the naughty wag not to be avenged.

C. Custance. Good wenches would not so ramp abroad idly,

But keep within doors, and ply their work earnestly.

If one would speak with me, that is a man likely,

Ye shall have right good thank to bring me word quickly;

But otherwise with messages to come in post,

From henceforth I promise you shall be to your cost.

Get you into your work.

Tib. and Annot. Yes, forsooth.

C. Custance. Hence, both twain.

And let me see you play me such a part again! [Ex. Tib. and Annot.

Truepenny (re-entering). Mistress, I have run past the far end of the street,

Yet can I not yonder crafty boy see nor meet.

C. Custance. No!

Truepenny. Yet I looked as far beyond the people

As one may see out of the top of Paul's steeple.

C. Custance. Hence, in at doors, and let me no more be vext!

Truepenny. Forgive me this one fault, and lay on for the next.[102]

C. Custance. Now will I in too, for I think, so God me mend,

This will prove some foolish matter in the end. [Exeat.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 1.

Matthew Merrygreek.

M. Merry. Now say this again: he hath somewhat to doing

Which followeth the trace of one that is wooing;

Specially that hath no more wit in his head,

Than my cousin Roister Doister withal is led.

I am sent in all haste to espy and to mark,

How our letters and tokens are likely to wark.

Master Roister Doister must have answer in haste,

For he loveth not to spend much labour in waste.

Now as for Christian Custance, by this light,

Though she had not her troth to Gawin Goodluck plight,

Yet rather than with such a loutish dolt to marry,

I daresay would live a poor life solitary.

But fain would I speak with Custance, if I wist how,

To laugh at the matter. Yond cometh one forth now.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 2.

Tibet. M. Merrygreek (aside).

Tib. Talk. Ah! that I might but once in my life have a sight

Of him who made us all so ill-shent! By this light,

He should never escape, if I had him by the ear,

But even from his head I would it bite or tear.

Yea, and if one of them were not enou',

I would bite them both off, I make God avow.

M. Merry. What is he, whom this little mouse doth so threaten? [Aside.

Tib. Talk. I would teach him, I trow, to make girls shent or beaten.

M. Merry. I will call her. Maid, with whom are ye so hasty?

Tib. Talk. Not with you, sir, but with a little wage-pasty;

A deceiver of folks by subtle craft and guile.

M. Merry. I know where she is: Dobinet hath wrought some wile.

Tib. Talk. He brought a ring and token, which he said was sent

From our dame's husband, but I wot well I was shent;

From our dame's husband, but I wot well I was shent;

For it liked her as well (to tell you no lies)

As water in a[103] ship, or salt cast in her eyes:

And yet, whence it came, neither we nor she can tell.

M. Merry. We shall have sport anon: I like this very well. [Aside.

And dwell ye here with mistress Custance, fair maid?

Tib. Talk. Yea, marry do I, sir: what would ye have said?

M. Merry. A little message unto her, by word of mouth.

Tib. Talk. No messages, by your leave, nor tokens forsooth.

M. Merry. Then help me to speak with her.

Tib. Talk. With a good will that.

Here she cometh forth. Now speak—ye know best what.

C. Custance. None other life with you, maid, but abroad to skip?

Tib. Talk. Forsooth, here is one would speak with your mistresship.

C. Custance. Ah, have ye been learning of mo messages now?

Tib. Talk. I would not hear his mind, but bad him show it to you.

C. Custance. In at doors!

Tib. Talk. I am gone. [Exit.

M. Merry. Dame Custance, God ye save!

C. Custance. Welcome, friend Merrygreek; and what thing would ye have?

M. Merry. I am come to you a little matter to break.

C. Custance. But see it be honest, else better not to speak.

M. Merry. How feel ye yourself affected here of late?

C. Custance. I feel no manner change, but after the old rate.

But whereby do ye mean?

M. Merry. Concerning marriage.

Doth not love lade you?

C. Custance. I feel no such carriage.

M. Merry. Do ye feel no pangs of dotage? Answer me right.

C. Custance. I doat so, that I make but one sleep all the night.

But what need all these words?

M. Merry. O Jesus! will ye see

What dissembling creatures these same women be? [Aside.

The gentleman ye wot of, whom ye do so love,

That ye would fain marry him, if he durst it move,

Among other rich widows which are of him glad,

Lest ye for lesing of him perchance might run mad,

Is now contented that, upon your suit making,

Ye be as one in election of taking.

C. Custance. What a tale is this! That I wot of! Whom I love!

M. Merry. Yea, and he is as loving a worm again as a dove.

E'en of very pity he is willing you to take,

Because ye shall not destroy yourself for his sake.

C. Custance. Marry, God 'ield[104] his maship! whatever he be,

It is gentmanly spoken.

M. Merry. Is it not, trow ye?

If ye have the grace now to offer yourself, ye speed.

C. Custance. As much as though I did; this time it shall not need.

But what gentleman is it, I pray you tell me plain,

That wooeth so finely?

M. Merry. Lo, where ye be again!

As though ye knew him not!

C. Custance. Tush! ye speak in jest.

M. Merry. Nay, sure the party is in good knacking earnest,

And have you he will (he saith) and have you he must.

C. Custance. I am promised during my life, that is just.

M. Merry. Marry, so thinketh he—unto him alone.

C. Custance. No creature hath my faith and troth but one,

That is Gawin Goodluck: and if it be not he,

He hath no title this way, whatever he be,

For I know none to whom I have such words spoken.

M. Merry. Ye know him not, you, by his letter and token?

C. Custance. Indeed true it is, that a letter I have,

But I never read it yet, as God me save.

M. Merry. Ye a woman? and your letter so long unread!

C. Custance. Ye may thereby know what haste I have to wed.

But now, who is it for my hand? I know by guess.

M. Merry. Ah! well, I say—

C. Custance. It is Roister Doister, doubtless.

M. Merry. Will ye never leave this dissimulation?

Ye know him not?

C. Custance. But by imagination;

For no man there is, but a very dolt and lout,

That to woo a widow would so go about.

He shall never have me his wife, while he do live.

M. Merry. Then will he have you if he may, so mot I thrive;

And he biddeth you send him word by me,

That ye humbly beseech him ye may his wife be,

And that there shall be no let in you nor mistrust,

But to be wedded on Sunday next, if he lust;

And biddeth you to look for him.

C. Custance. Doth he bid so?

M. Merry. When he cometh, ask him whether he did or no?

C. Custance. Go say, that I bid him keep him warm at home,

For, if he come abroad, he shall cough me a mome.[105]

My mind was vexed, I 'shrew his head, sottish dolt.

M. Merry. He hath in his head—

C. Custance. As much brain as a burbolt.[106]

M. Merry. Well, dame Custance, if he hear you thus play choploge.[107]

C. Custance. What will he?

M. Merry. Play the devil in the horologe.[108]

C. Custance. I defy him, lout.

M. Merry. Shall I tell him what ye say?

C. Custance. Yea, and add whatsoever thou canst, I thee pray,

And I will avouch it, whatsoever it be.

M. Merry. Then let me alone; we will laugh well, ye shall see:

It will not be long, ere he will hither resort.

C. Custance. Let him come when him lust, I wish no better sport.

Fare ye well: I will in, and read my great letter:

I shall to my wooer make answer the better. [Exeat.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 3.

Matthew Merrygreek.

M. Merry. Now that the whole answer in my device doth rest,

I shall paint out our wooer in colours of the best,

And all that I say shall be on Custance's mouth,

She is author of all that I shall speak, forsooth.

But yonder cometh Roister Doister now in a trance.

[Enter R. Roister.]

R. Roister. Juno send me this day good luck and good chance!

I cannot but come see how Merrygreek doth speed.

M. Merry. I will not see him, but give him a jut[109] indeed.

I cry your mastership mercy!

R. Roister. And whither now?

M. Merry. As fast as I could run, sir, in post against you.

But why speak ye so faintly, or why are ye so sad?

R. Roister. Thou knowest the proverb—because I cannot be had.

Hast thou spoken with this woman?

M. Merry. Yea, that I have.

R. Roister. And what, will this gear be?

M. Merry. No, so God me save.

R. Roister. Hast thou a flat answer?

M. Merry. Nay, a sharp answer.

R. Roister. What?

M. Merry. Ye shall not (she saith), by her will, marry her cat.

Ye are such a calf, such an ass, such a block,

Such a lilburn, such a hobil, such a lobcock;

And because ye should come to her at no season,

She despised your maship out of all reason.

"Beware what ye say (ko I) of such a gentleman!"

"Nay, I fear him not (ko she), do the best he can."

He vaunteth himself for a man of prowess great,

Whereas a good gander, I dare say, may him beat.

And where he is louted[110] and laughed to scorn,

For the veriest dolt that ever was born:

And veriest lubber, sloven and beast,

Living in this world from the west to the east;

Yet of himself hath he such opinion,

That in all the world is not the like minion.

He thinketh each woman to be brought in dotage

With the only sight of his goodly personage:

Yet none that will have him: we do him lout and flock,

And make him among us our common sporting-stock;

And so would I now (ko she), save only because—

"Better nay (ko I)." "I lust not meddle with daws."

"Ye are happy (ko I) that ye are a woman:

This would cost you your life, in case ye were a man."

R. Roister. Yea, an hundred thousand pound should not save her life.

M. Merry. No, but that ye woo her to have her to your wife;

But I could not stop her mouth.

R. Roister. Heigho, alas!

M. Merry. Be of good cheer, man, and let the world pass.[111]

R. Roister. What shall I do or say, now that it will not be?

M. Merry. Ye shall have choice of a thousand as good as she;

And ye must pardon her; it is for lack of wit.

R. Roister. Yea, for were not I an husband for her fit?

Well, what should I now do?

M. Merry. I'faith, I cannot tell.

R. Roister. I will go home, and die.

M. Merry. Then shall I bid toll the bell?

R. Roister. No.

M. Merry. God have mercy on your soul: ah, good gentleman,

That e'er you should thus die for an unkind woman!

Will ye drink once, ere ye go?

R. Roister. No, no, I will none.

M. Merry. How feels your soul to God?

R. Roister. I am nigh-gone.

M. Merry. And shall we hence straight?

R. Roister. Yea.

M. Merry. Placebo dilexi. [ut infra.[112]

Master Roister Doister will straight go home, and die.

R. Roister. Heigho, alas! the pangs of death my heart do break.

M. Merry. Hold your peace, for shame, sir! a dead man may not speak

Ne quando. What mourners and what torches shall we have?

R. Roister. None.

M. Merry. Dirige. He will go darkling to his grave:

Neque lux, neque crux, neque mourners, neque clink,

He will steal to heaven, unknowing to God, I think,

A porta inferi. Who shall your goods possess?

R. Roister. Thou shalt be my sector,[113] and have all, more or less.

M. Merry. Requiem æternam. Now, God reward your mastership,

And I will cry halfpenny-dole for your worship,

Come forth, sirs; hear the doleful news I shall you tell.

[Evocat servos milites.

Our good master here will no longer with us dwell,

But in spite of Custance, which hath him wearied,

Let us see his maship solemnly buried;

And while some piece of his soul is yet him within,

Some part of his funerals let us here begin.

Audivi vocem. All men take heed by this one gentleman,

How you set your love upon an unkind woman:

For these women be all such mad, peevish elves,

They will not be won, except to please themselves.

But, in faith, Custance, if ever ye come in hell,

Master Roister Doister shall serve you as well—

And will ye needs go from us thus in very deed?

R. Roister. Yea, in good sadness.

M. Merry. Now Jesus Christ be your speed.

Good night, Roger, old knave! farewell, Roger, old knave!

Good night, Roger, old knave, knave knap! [ut infra.[114]

Pray for the late master Roister Doister's soul,

And come forth, parish clerk; let the passing-bell toll. [Ad servos milites.

Pray for your master, sirs; and for him ring a peal.

He was your right good master, while he was in heal.

R. Roister. Qui Lazarum.

Heigho!

M. Merry. Dead men go not so fast in Paradisum.

R. Roister. Heigho!

M. Merry. Soft, hear what I have cast.

R. Roister. I will hear nothing, I am past.

M. Merry. Whough, wellaway!

Ye may tarry one hour, and hear what I shall say.

Ye were best, sir, for awhile to revive again,

And quite them, ere ye go.

R. Roister. Trowest thou so?

M. Merry. Yea, plain.

R. Roister. How may I revive, being now so far past?

M. Merry. I will rub your temples, and fet you again at last.

R. Roister. It will not be possible.

M. Merry. Yes, for twenty pound.

R. Roister. Arms! what dost thou?

M. Merry. Fet you again out of your sound.[115]

By this cross, ye were nigh gone indeed; I might feel

Your soul departing within an inch of your heel.

Now follow my counsel—

R. Roister. What is it?

M. Merry. If I were you,

Custance should eft seek to me, ere I would bow.

R. Roister. Well, as thou wilt have me, even so will I do.

M. Merry. Then shall ye revive again for an hour or two.

R. Roister. As thou wilt: I am content, for a little space.

M. Merry. Good hap is not hasty: yet in space cometh grace.

To speak with Custance yourself should be very well;

What good thereof may come, nor I nor you can tell.

But now the matter standeth upon your marriage,

Ye must now take unto you a lusty carriage.[116]

Ye may not speak with a faint heart to Custance.

But with a lusty breast[117] and countenance,

That she may know she hath to answer to a man.

R. Roister. Yes, I can do that as well as any can.

M. Merry. Then, because ye must Custance face to face woo,

Let us see how to behave yourself ye can do.

Ye must have a portly brag after your estate.

R. Roister. Tush, I can handle that after the best rate.

M. Merry. Well done; so, lo! up, man, with your head and chin!

Up with, that snout, man: so lo! now ye begin.

So, that is somewhat like; but, pranky-coat, nay when?

That is a lusty brute! hands unto your side, man:

So, lo! now is it even as it should be;

That is somewhat like for a man of your degree.

Then must ye stately go, jetting up and down.[118]

Tut! can ye no better shake the tail of your gown?

There, lo! such a lusty brag it is ye must make.

R. Roister. To come behind, and make curts'y,[119] thou must some pains take.

M. Merry. Else were I much to blame. I thank your mastership;

The Lord one day all to begrime you with worship.

Back, Sir Sauce! let gentlefolks have elbow-room.

'Void, sirs, see ye not Master Roister Doister come?

Make place, my masters—

R. Roister. Thou jostlest now too nigh.

M. Merry. Back, all rude louts.

R. Roister. Tush.

M. Merry. I cry your maship mercy.

Hoiday! if fair fine Mistress Custance saw you now,

Ralph Roister Doister were her own, I warrant you.

R. Roister. Ne'er a master by your girdle?

M. Merry. Your good Mastership's

Mastership were her own mistresship's mistresship's.

Ye were take up for hawks; ye were gone, ye were gone:

But now one other thing more yet I think upon.

R. Roister. Show what it is.

M. Merry. A wooer, be he never so poor,

Must play and sing before his best-beloved's door.

How much more then you?

R. Roister. Thou speakest well, out of doubt.

And perchance that would make her the sooner come out.[120]

Go call my musicians; bid them hie apace.

M. Merry. I will be here with them, ere ye can say trey ace. [Exeat.

R. Roister. This was well said of Merrygreek, I 'low his wit,

Before my sweetheart's door we will have a fit,

That, if my love come forth, I may with her talk:

I doubt not but this gear shall on my side walk.

But lo! how well Merrygreek is returned since.

M. Merry.[121] There hath grown no grass on my heel, since I went hence:

Lo! here have I brought that shall make you pastance.

R. Roister. Come, sirs, let us sing, to win my dear love Custance.

[Cantent.[122]

M. Merry. Lo, where she cometh! some countenance to her make;

And ye shall hear me be plain with her for your sake.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 4.

Custance, Merrygreek, Roister Doister.

C. Custance. What gauding and fooling is this afore my door?

M. Merry. May not folks be honest, pray you, though they be poor?

C. Custance. As that thing may be true, so rich folks may be fools.

R. Roister. Her talk is as fine as she had learned in schools.

M. Merry. Look partly toward her, and draw a little near. [Aside.

C. Custance. Get ye home, idle folks.

M. Merry. Why may not we be here?

Nay, and ye will haze, haze;[123] otherwise, I tell you plain,

And ye will not haze, then give us our gear again.

C. Custance. Indeed, I have of yours much gay things, God save all.

R. Roister. Speak gently unto her, and let her take all. [Aside.

M. Merry. Ye are too tender-hearted. Shall she make us daws? [Aside.

Nay, dame, I will be plain with you in my friend's cause.

R. Roister. Let all this pass, sweetheart, and accept my service.

C. Custance. I will not be served with a fool in no wise.

When I choose an husband, I hope to take a man.

M. Merry. And where will ye find one which can do that he can?

Now this man toward you being so kind,

Why not make him an answer somewhat to his mind?

C. Custance. I sent him a full answer by you, did I not?

M. Merry. And I reported it.

C. Custance. Nay, I must speak it again.

R. Roister. No, no, he told it all.

M. Merry. Was I not meetly plain?

R. Roister. Yes.

M. Merry. But I would not tell all; for, faith, if I had,

With you, dame Custance, ere this hour it had been bad;

And not without cause: for this goodly personage

Meant no less than to join with you in marriage.

C. Custance. Let him waste no more labour nor suit about me.

M. Merry. Ye know not where your preferment lieth, I see;

He sendeth you such a token, ring and letter.

C. Custance. Marry, here it is; ye never saw a better.

M. Merry. Let us see your letter.

C. Custance. Hold! read it if ye can:

And see what letter it is to win a woman.

M. Merry. [reads:]

To mine own dear coney, bird, sweetheart, and pigsny,

Good Mistress Custance, present these by and by.

Of this superscription do ye blame the style?

C. Custance. With the rest, as good stuff as ye read a great while.

M. Merry. [reads:]

"Sweet Mistress, where as I love you nothing at all,

Regarding your substance and riches chief of all;

For your personage, beauty, demeanour and wit,

I commend me unto you never a whit.

Sorry to bear report of your good welfare,

For, (as I hear say) such your conditions are,

That ye be worthy favour of no living man;

To be abhorred of every honest man.

To be taken for a woman inclined to vice;

Nothing at all to virtue giving her due price.

Wherefore concerning marriage ye are thought

Such a fine paragon as ne'er honest man bought.

And now by these presents I do you advertise,

That I am minded to marry you in no wise.

For your goods and substance, I could be content

To take you as ye are. If ye mind to be my wife,

Ye shall be assured, for the time of my life,

I will keep ye right well from good raiment and fare;

Ye shall not be kept but in sorrow and care.

Ye shall in no wise live at your own liberty;

Do and say what ye lust, ye shall never please me;

But when ye are merry, I will be all sad;

When ye are sorry, I will be very glad.

When ye seek your heart's ease, I will be unkind;

At no time in me shall ye much gentleness find;

But all things contrary to your will and mind

Shall be done: otherwise I will not be behind

To speak. And as for all them that would do you wrong,

I will so help and maintain, ye shall not live long.

Nor any foolish dolt shall cumber you, but I;

I, whoe'er say nay, will stick by you, till I die.

Thus, good Mistress Custance, the Lord you save and keep

From me, Roister Doister, whether I wake or sleep,

Who favoureth you no less (ye may be bold)

Than this letter purporteth, which ye have unfold."[124]

C. Custance. How, by this letter of love? is it not fine?

R. Roister. By the Arms of Calais, it is none of mine.

M. Merry. Fie! you are foul to blame; this is your own hand.

C. Custance. Might not a woman be proud of such an husband?

M. Merry. Ah, that ye would in a letter show such despite!

R. Roister. O, I would I had him here, the which did it indite!

M. Merry. Why, ye made it yourself, ye told me, by this light!

R. Roister. Yea, I meant I wrote it mine own self yesternight.

C. Custance. I-wis, sir, I would not have sent you such a mock.

R. Roister. Ye may so take it; but I meant it not so, by Cock.

M. Merry. Who can blame this woman to fume, and fret, and rage?

Tut, tut, yourself now have marred your own marriage. [Aside.

Well yet, Mistress Custance, if ye can this remit;

This gentleman otherwise may your love requite.

C. Custance. No, God be with you both, and seek no more to me. [Exit.

R. Roister. Wough! she is gone for ever, I shall her no more see.

M. Merry. What, weep? Fie for shame! And blubber? For manhood's sake!

Never let your foe so much pleasure of you take.

Rather play the man's part, and do love refrain:

If she despise you, e'en despise ye her again.

R. Roister. By Goss[125] and for thy sake, I defy her indeed!

M. Merry. Yea, and perchance that way ye shall much sooner speed;

For one mad property these women have, in fay,[126]

When ye will, they will not: will not ye? then will they.

Ah, foolish woman! ah, most unlucky Custance!

Ah, unfortunate woman! ah, peevish Custance,

Art thou to thine harms so obstinately bent,

That thou canst not see where lieth thine high preferment?

Canst thou not lub dis man, which could lub dee so well?

Art thou so much thine own foe?

R. Roister. Thou dost the truth tell.

M. Merry. Well, I lament.

R. Roister. So do I.

M. Merry. Wherefore?

R. Roister. For this thing,

Because she is gone.

M. Merry. I mourn for another thing.

R. Roister. What is it, Merrygreek, wherefore thou dost grief take?

M. Merry. That I am not a woman myself, for your sake.

I would have you myself, and a straw for yond Gill,

And mock much of you, though it were against my will.

I would not, I warrant you, fall in such a rage,

As so to refuse such a goodly personage.

R. Roister. In faith, I heartily thank thee, Merrygreek.

M. Merry. And I were a woman——

R. Roister. Thou wouldest to me seek.

M. Merry. For, though I say it, a goodly person ye be.

R. Roister. No, no.

M. Merry. Yes, a goodly man, as e'er I did see.

R. Roister. No, I am a poor homely man, as God made me.

M. Merry. By the faith that I owe to God, sir, but ye be.

Would I might, for your sake, spend a thousand pound land.

R. Roister. I daresay thou wouldest have me to thy husband.

M. Merry. Yea, and I were the fairest lady in the shire,

And knew you as I know you, and see you now here—

Well, I say no more—

R. Roister. Gramercies, with all my heart.

M. Merry. But, since that cannot be, will ye play a wise part?

R. Roister. How should I?

M. Merry. Refrain from Custance a while now,

And I warrant her soon right glad to seek to you.

Ye shall see her anon come on her knees creeping,

And pray you to be good to her, salt tears weeping.

R. Roister. But what, and she come not?

M. Merry. In faith, then, farewell she.

Or else, if ye be wroth, ye may avenged be.

R. Roister. By Cock's precious potstick, and e'en so I shall;

I will utterly destroy her, and house and all.

But I would be avenged in the mean space,

On that vile scribbler, that did my wooing disgrace.

M. Merry. Scribbler, ko you? Indeed, he is worthy no less.

I will call him to you, and ye bid me, doubtless.

R. Roister. Yes, for although he had as many lives

As a thousand widows and a thousand wives,

As a thousand lions and a thousand rats,

A thousand wolves and a thousand cats,

A thousand bulls and a thousand calves,

And a thousand legions divided in halves,

He shall never 'scape death on my sword's point,

Though I should be torn therefore joint by joint.

M. Merry. Nay, if ye will kill him, I will not fet him,

I will not in so much extremity set him.

He may yet amend, sir, and be an honest man;

Therefore pardon him, good soul, as much as ye can.

R. Roister. Well, for thy sake, this once with his life he shall pass;

But I will hew him all to pieces, by the mass—

M. Merry. Nay, faith, ye shall promise that he shall no harm have,

Else I will not fet him.

R. Roister. I shall, so God me save!

But I may chide him a good.[127]

M. Merry. Yea, that do hardily.

R. Roister. Go then.

M. Merry. I return, and bring him to you by and by.[128] [Ex.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA V.

Roister Doister, Matthew Merrygreek.

R. Roister. What is a gentleman, but his word and his promise?

I must now save this villain's life in any wise;

And yet at him already my hands do tickle,

I shall unneth[129] hold them, they will be so fickle.

But lo, and Merrygreek have not brought him sens![130]

M. Merry. Nay, I would I had of my purse paid fortypence.

Scrivener. So would I too; but it needed not that stound.[131]

M. Merry. But the gentman had rather spent five thousand pound;

For it disgraced him at least five times as much.

[Enter Scrivener at one side.]

Scrivener. He disgraced himself, his loutishness is such.

R. Roister. How long they stand prating. (To Merry.) Why com'st thou not away?

M. Merry. (to Scriv.) Come now to himself, and hark what he will say.

Scrivener. I am not afraid in his presence to appear.

R Roister. Art thou come, fellow?

Scrivener. How think you? Am I not here?

R. Roister. What hindrance hast thou done me, and what villainy!

Scrivener. It hath come of thyself, if thou hast had any.

R. Roister. All the stock thou comest of, later or rather,[132]

From thy first father's grandfather's father's father,

Nor all that shall come of thee, to the world's end,

Though to three score generations they descend,

Can be able to make a just recompense

For this trespass of thine and this one offence.

Scrivener. Wherein?

R. Roister. Did not you make me a letter, brother?

Scrivener. Pay the like hire, I will make you such an other.

R. Roister. Nay, see, and these whoreson Pharisees and Scribes

Do not get their living by polling[133] and bribes.

If it were not for shame——

M. Merry. Nay, hold thy hands still.[134]

Why, did ye not promise that ye would not him spill?[135]

Scrivener. Let him not spare me.

R. Roister. Why, wilt thou strike me again?

Scrivener. Ye shall have as good as ye bring of me, that is plain.

M. Merry. I cannot blame him, sir, though your blows would him grieve;

For he knoweth present death to ensue of all ye give.

R. Roister. Well, this man for once hath purchased thy pardon.

Scrivener. And what say ye to me? or else I will be gone.

R. Roister. I say, the letter thou madest me was not good.

Scrivener. Then did ye wrong copy it, of likelihood.

R. Roister. Yes, out of thy copy, word for word, I it wrote.

Scrivener. Then was it as you prayed to have it, I wot:

But in reading and pointing there was made some fault.

R. Roister. I wot not; but it made all my matter to halt.

Scrivener. How say you, is this mine original, or no?

R. Roister. The self same that I wrote out of, so mot I go.

Scrivener. Look you on your own fist, and I will look on this.

And let this man be judge, whether I read amiss.

To mine own dear coney, bird, sweetheart, and pigsny,

Good Mistress Custance, present these by and by.

How now? doth not this superscription agree?

R. Roister. Read that is within, and there ye shall the fault see.

Scrivener.

"Sweet Mistress, whereas I love you; nothing at all

Regarding your riches and substance; chief of all

For your personage, beauty, demeanour and wit,

I commend me unto you; never a whit

Sorry to hear report of your good welfare;

For (as I hear say) such your conditions are,

That ye be worthy favour; of no living man

To be abhorred; of every honest man

To be taken for a woman inclined to vice

Nothing at all; to virtue giving her due price.

Wherefore, concerning marriage, ye are thought

Such a fine paragon as ne'er honest man bought.

And now, by these presents, I do you advertise

And now, by these presents, I do you advertise

That I am minded to marry you; in no wise

For your goods and substance; I can be content

To take you as ye are. If ye will be my wife,

Ye shall be assured for the time of my life

I will keep ye right well: from good raiment and fare

Ye shall not be kept: but in sorrow and care

Ye shall in no wise live; at your own liberty

Do and say what ye lust; ye shall never please me,

But when ye are merry; I will be all sad,

When ye are sorry; I will be very glad,

When ye seek your heart's ease; I will be unkind

At no time; in me shall ye much gentleness find.

But all things contrary to your will and mind

Shall be done otherwise. I will not be behind

To speak; and as for all they that would do you wrong

(I will so help and maintain ye) shall not live long,

Nor any foolish dolt shall cumber you; but I—

I whoe'er say nay, will stick by you till I die.

Thus, good Mistress Custance, the Lord you save and keep!

From me, Roister Doister, whether I wake or sleep,

Who favoureth you no less (ye may be bold)

Than this letter purporteth, which ye have unfold."

Now, sir, what default can ye find in this letter?

R. Roister. Of truth, in my mind, there cannot be a better.

Scrivener. Then was the fault in reading, and not in writing,

No, nor, I dare say, in the form of inditing.

But who read this letter, that it sounded so nought?

M. Merry. I read it indeed.

Scrivener. Ye read it not as ye ought.

R. Roister. Why, thou wretched villain, was all this same fault in thee?

M. Merry. I knock your costard,[136] if ye offer to strike me.

R Roister. Strikest thou indeed, and I offer but in jest?

M. Merry. Yea, and rap ye again, except ye can sit in rest.

And I will no longer tarry here, me believe.

R. Roister. What, wilt thou be angry, and I do thee forgive?

Fare thou well, scribbler; I cry thee mercy indeed.

Scrivener. Fare ye well, bibbler, and worthily may ye speed.

R. Roister. If it were another than thou, it were a knave.

M. Merry. Ye are another yourself, sir, the Lord us both save;

Albeit in this matter I must your pardon crave.

Alas! would ye wish in me the wit that ye have?

But, as for my fault, I can quickly amend:

I will show Custance it was I that did offend.

R. Roister. By so doing her anger may be reformed.

M. Merry. But if by no entreaty she will be turned,

Then set light by her, and be as testy as she,

And do your force upon her with extremity.

R. Roister. Come on therefore; let us go home in sadness.

M. Merry. That if force shall need, all may be in readiness.[137]

And as for this letter, hardily let all go;

We will know, whe'er she refuse you for that or no. [Exeant amb.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 1.

Sim. Suresby.

Sim. Sure. Is there any man but I, Sim. Suresby, alone,

That would have taken such an enterprise him upon;

In such an outrageous tempest as this was,

Such a dangerous gulf of the sea to pass?

I think verily Neptune's mighty godship

Was angry with some that was in our ship,

And but for the honesty which in me he found,

I think for the other's sake we had been drown'd.

But fie on that servant which, for his master's wealth,[138]

Will stick for to hazard both his life and his health.

My master Gawin Goodluck after me a day,

Because of the weather, thought best his ship to stay;

And now that I have the rough surges so well passed,

God grant I may find all things safe here at last.

Then will I think all my travail well-spent.

Now, the first point whereof my master hath me sent,

Is to salute dame Christian Custance, his wife

Espoused, whom he tendreth no less than his life.

I must see how it is with her, well or wrong,

And whether for him she doth not now think long.

Then to other friends I have a message or tway;

And then so to return and meet him on the way.

Now will I go knock, that I may dispatch with speed;

But lo! forth cometh herself happily indeed.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 2.

Christian Custance, Sim. Suresby.

C. Custance. I come to see if any more stirring be here.

But what stranger is this, which doth to me appear?

Sim. Suresby. I will speak to her. Dame, the Lord you save and see!

C. Custance. What, friend Sim. Suresby. Forsooth, right welcome ye be.

How doth mine own Gawin Goodluck, I pray thee tell?

Sim. Sure. When he knoweth of your health, he will be perfect well.

C. Custance. If he have perfect health, I am as I would be.

Sim. Sure. Such news will please him well. This is as it should be.

C. Custance. I think now long for him.

Sim. Sure. And he as long for you.

C. Custance. When will he be at home?

Sim. Sure. His heart is here e'en now;

His body cometh after.

C. Custance. I would see that fain.

Sim. Sure. As fast as wind and sail can carry it a-main.

But what two men are yond coming hitherwards?

C. Custance. Now I shrew their best Christmas cheeks both togetherward.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 3.

Christian Custance, Sim. Suresby, Ralph Roister, Matthew Merrygreek, Truepenny.

C. Custance. What mean these lewd fellows thus to trouble me still?

Sim. Suresby here, perchance, shall thereof deem some ill,

And shall suspect in me some point of naughtiness,

And they come hitherward. [Aside.

Sim. Sure. What is their business?

C. Custance. I have nought to them, nor they to me, in sadness.[139]

Sim. Sure. Let us hearken them; somewhat there is, I fear it.

R. Roister. I will speak out aloud best, that she may hear it.

M. Merry. Nay, alas! ye may so fear her out of her wit.

R. Roister. By the cross of my sword, I will hurt her no whit.

M. Merry. Will ye do no harm indeed? Shall I trust your word?

R. Roister. By Roister Doister's faith, I will speak but in bord.[140]

Sim. Sure. Let us hearken them: somewhat there is, I fear it.

R. Roister. I will speak out aloud, I care not who hear it.—

Sirs, see that my harness, my target and my shield

Be made as bright now, as when I was last in field:

As white, as I should to war again to-morrow;

For sick shall I be, but I work some folk sorrow.

Therefore see that all shine as bright as Saint George,

Or as doth a key, newly come from the smith's forge.

I would have my sword and harness to shine so bright,

That I might therewith dim mine enemies' sight:

I would have it cast beams as fast, I tell you plain,

As doth the glitt'ring grass after a shower of rain.

And see that, in case I should need to come to arming,

All things may be ready at a minute's warning.

For such chance may chance in an hour: do ye hear?

M. Merry. As perchance shall not chance again in seven year.

R. Roister. Now, draw ye near to her, and hear what shall be said.

M. Merry. But I would not have you make her too much afraid.

R. Roister. Well found, sweet wife, (I trust) for all this your sour look.

C. Custance. Wife! Why call ye me wife?

Sim. Sure (aside). Wife! This gear goeth a-crook.

M. Merry. Nay, Mistress Custance, I warrant you our letter

Is not as we read e'en now, but much better;

And where ye half stomached[141] this gentleman afore

For this same letter, ye will love him now therefore;

Nor it is not this letter, though ye were a queen,

That should break marriage between you twain, I ween.

C. Custance. I did not refuse him for the letter's sake.

R. Roister. Then ye are content me for your husband to take.

C. Custance. You for my husband to take!

Nothing less truly?

R. Roister. Yea, say so, sweet spouse, afore strangers hardily.

M. Merry. And though I have here his letter of love with me,

Yet his rings and tokens he sent keep safe with ye.

C. Custance. A mischief take his tokens, and him, and thee too!

But what prate I with fools? Have I nought else to do?

Come in with me, Sim. Suresby, to take some repast.

Sim. Sure. I must, ere I drink, by your leave, go in all haste

To a place or two with earnest letters of his.

C. Custance. Then come drink here with me.

Sim. Sure. I thank you.

C. Custance. Do not miss.

You shall have a token to your master with you.

Sim. Sure. No tokens this time, gramercies. God be with you. [Exeat.

C. Custance. Surely, this fellow misdeemeth some ill in me;

Which thing, but God help, will go near to spill me.

R. Roister. Yea, farewell, fellow, and tell thy master Goodluck,

That he cometh too late of this blossom to pluck.

Let him keep him there still, or at least-wise make no haste;

As for his labour hither he shall spend in waste.

His betters be in place now.

M. Merry. As long as it will hold.

C. Custance (aside). I will be even with thee, thou

beast, thou may'st be bold.

R. Roister. Will ye have us then?

C. Custance. I will never have thee.

R. Roister. Then will I have you.

C. Custance. No, the devil shall have thee.

I have gotten this hour more shame and harm by thee,

Than all thy life-days thou canst do me honesty.

M. Merry. Why, now may ye see what it com'th to in the end,

To make a deadly foe of your most loving friend:

And i-wis this letter, if ye would hear it now—

C. Custance. I will hear none of it.

M. Merry. In faith, ['t]would ravish you.

C. Custance. He hath stained my name for ever, this is clear.

R. Roister. I can make all as well in an hour.

M. Merry. As ten year.

How say ye, will ye have him?

C. Custance. No.

M. Merry. Will ye take him—

C. Custance. I defy him.

M. Merry. At my word?

C. Custance. A shame take him!

Waste no more wind, for it will never be.

M. Merry. This one fault with twain shall be mended, ye shall see.

Gentle Mistress Custance now, good Mistress Custance,

Honey Mistress Custance now, sweet Mistress Custance,

Golden Mistress Custance now, white Mistress Custance,

Silken Mistress Custance now, fair Mistress Custance.

C. Custance. Faith, rather than to marry with such a doltish lout,

I would match myself with a beggar, out of doubt.

M. Merry. Then I can say no more; to speed we are not like,

Except ye rap out a rag of your rhetoric.

C. Custance. Speak not of winning me; for it shall never be so.

R. Roister. Yes, dame, I will have you, whether ye will or no.

I command you to love me! wherefore should ye not?

Is not my love to you chafing and burning hot?

M. Merry. To her! that is well said.

R. Roister. Shall I so break my brain,[142]

To doat upon you, and ye not love us again?

M. Merry. Well said yet.

C. Custance. Go to, thou goose.

R. Roister. I say, Kit Custance,

In case ye will not haze, well; better yes, perchance.

C. Custance. Avaunt, losel![143] pick thee hence!

M. Merry. Well, sir, ye perceive,

For all your kind offer, she will not you receive.

R. Roister. Then a straw for her, and a straw for her again:

She shall not be my wife, would she never so fain;

No, and though she would be at ten thousand pound cost.

M. Merry. Lo, dame, ye may see what an husband ye have lost.

C. Custance. Yea, no force;[144] a jewel much better lost than found.

M. Merry. Ah, ye will not believe how this doth my heart wound.

How should a marriage between you be toward,

If both parties draw back, and become so froward?

R. Roister. Nay, dame, I will fire thee out of thy house, [though I die;[145]]

And destroy thee and all thine, and that by and by.

M. Merry. Nay, for the passion of God, sir, do not so.

R. Roister. Yes, except she will say yea to that she said no.

C. Custance. And what, be there no officers, trow we, in town,

To check idle loiterers, bragging up and down?

Where be they by whom vagabonds should be represt,

That poor silly widows might live in peace and rest?

Shall I never rid thee out of my company?

I will call for help. What, ho! come forth, Truepenny!

Truepenny.[146] Anon. What is your will, Mistress? Did ye call me?

C. Custance. Yea: go, run apace, and, as fast as may be,

Pray Tristram Trusty, my most assured friend,

To be here by and by, that he may me defend.

Truepenny. That message so quickly shall be done, by God's grace,

That at my return ye shall say, I went apace. [Exeat.

C. Custance. Then shall we see, I trow, whether ye shall do me harm.

R. Roister. Yes, in faith, Kit, I shall thee and thine so charm,

That all women incarnate by thee may beware.

C. Custance. Nay, as for charming me, come hither if thou dare.

I shall clout thee, till thou stink, both thee and thy train,

And coil[147] thee mine own hands, and send thee home again.

R. Roister. Yea, say'st thou me that, dame? Dost thou me threaten?

Go we, I will see whether I shall be beaten.

M. Merry. Nay, for the paishe[148] of God, let me now treat peace;

For bloodshed will there be, in case this strife increase.

Ah, good dame Custance, take better way with you!

C. Custance. Let him do his worst!

M. Merry. Yield in time.

R. Roister. Come hence, thou! [Exeant Roister and Merry.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 4.

Christian Custance, Annot Alyface, Tibet Talkapace, M. Mumblecrust.

C. Custance. So, sirrah! If I should not with him take this way,

I should not be rid of him, I think, till doom's day.

I will call forth my folks, that without any mocks,

If he come again, we may give him raps and knocks.

Madge Mumblecrust, come forth, and Tibet Talkapace;

Yea, and come forth too, Mistress Annot Alyface.

An. Alyface. I come.

Tib. Talk. And I am here.

M. Mumbl. And I am here too, at length.

C. Custance. Like warriors, if need be, ye must show your strength.

The man that this day hath thus beguiled you

Is Ralph Roister Doister, whom ye know well enou';

The most lout and dastard that ever on ground trod.

Tib. Talk. I see all folk mock him, when he goeth abroad.

C. Custance. What, pretty maid, will ye talk when I speak?

Tib. Talk. No, forsooth, good mistress.

C. Custance. Will ye my tale break?

He threateneth to come hither with all his force to fight;

I charge you, if he come, on him with all your might:

M. Mumbl. I with my distaff will reach him one rap.

Tib. Talk. And I with my new broom will sweep him one swap;

And then with our great club I will reach him one rap.

And I with our skimmer will fling him one flap.

Tib. Talk. Then Truepenny's fire-fork will him shrewdly fray:

And you with the spit may drive him quite away.

C. Custance. Go, make all ready, that it may be e'en so.

Tib. Talk. For my part, I shrew them that last about it go. [Exeant.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 5.

Christian Custance, Truepenny, Tristram Trusty.

C. Custance. Truepenny did promise me to run a great pace,

My friend Tristram Trusty to fet into this place.

Indeed he dwelleth hence a good start, I confess;

But yet a quick messenger might twice since, as I guess,

Have gone and come again. Ah! yond I spy him now.

Truepenny (To T. Trusty). Ye are a slow goer, sir, I make God a vow;

My Mistress Custance will in me put all the blame;

Your legs be longer than mine: come apace, for shame.

C. Custance. I can[149] thee thank, Truepenny; thou hast done

right well.

Truepenny. Mistress, since I went, no grass hath grown on my heel:

But Master Tristram Trusty here maketh no speed.

C. Custance. That he came at all, I thank him in very deed;

For now have I need of the help of some wise man.

T. Trusty. Then may I be gone again, for none such I am.

Truepenny. Ye may be by your going; for no Alderman

Can go, I dare say, a sadder[150] pace than ye can.

C. Custance. Truepenny, get thee in; thou shalt among them know,

How to use thyself like a proper man, I trow.

Truepenny. I go. [Exit.

C. Custance. Now, Tristram Trusty, I thank you right much:

For at my first sending to come ye never grutch.

T. Trusty. Dame Custance, God ye save; and while my life shall last,

For my friend Goodluck's sake ye shall not send in waste.

C. Custance. He shall give you thanks.

T. Trusty. I will do much for his sake.

C. Custance. But alack! I fear great displeasure shall he take.

T. Trusty. Wherefore?

C. Custance. For a foolish matter.

T. Trusty. What is your cause?

C. Custance. I am ill accumbred with a couple of daws.

T. Trusty. Nay, weep not, woman; but tell me what your cause is.

As concerning my friend is anything amiss?

C. Custance. No, not on my part; but here was Sim. Suresby—

Trusty. He was with me, and told me so.

C. Custance. And he stood by,

While Ralph Roister Doister, with help of Merrygreek,

For promise of marriage did unto me seek.

T. Trusty. And had ye made any promise before them twain?

C. Custance. No, I had rather be torn in pieces and slain.

No man hath my faith and troth but Gawin Goodluck,

And that before Suresby did I say, and there stuck

But of certain letters there were such words spoken—

Trusty. He told me that too.

C. Custance. And of a ring and token;

That Suresby, I spied, did more than half suspect,

That I my faith to Gawin Goodluck did reject.

T. Trusty. But was there no such matter, Dame Custance, indeed?

C. Custance. If ever my head thought it, God send me ill speed!

Wherefore, I beseech you, with me to be a witness,

That in all my life I never intended thing less.

And what a brainsick fool Ralph Roister Doister is,

Yourself knows well enough.

T. Trusty. Ye say full true, i-wis.

C. Custance. Because to be his wife I ne grant nor apply,

Hither will he come, he sweareth, by and by,

To kill both me and mine, and beat down my house flat;

Therefore I pray your aid.

T. Trusty. I warrant you that.

C. Custance. Have I so many years lived a sober life,

And showed myself honest: maid, widow, and wife,

And now to be abused in such a vile sort?

To see how poor widow live, all void of comfort!

T. Trusty. I warrant him do you no harm nor wrong at all.

C. Custance. No, but Matthew Merrygreek doth me most appal;

That he would join himself with such a wretched lout.

T. Trusty. He doth it for a jest, I know him out of doubt.

And here cometh Merrygreek?

C. Custance. Then shall we hear his mind.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 6.

Merrygreek, Christian Custance, Trist. Trusty.

M. Merry. Custance and Trusty both, I do you here well find.

C. Custance. Ah! Matthew Merrygreek, ye have used me well!

M. Merry. Now, for altogether,[151] ye must your answer tell.

Will ye have this man, woman, or else will ye not?

Else will he come, never boar so brim,[152] nor toast so hot.

C. Custance. But why join ye with him?

T. Trusty. For mirth?

C. Custance. Or else in sadness?

M. Merry. The more fond of you both: hardily the matter guess.

T. Trusty. Lo, how say ye, dame?

M. Merry. Why, do ye think, dame Custance,

That in this wooing I have meant ought but pastance?

C. Custance. Much things ye spake, I wot, to maintain his dotage.

M. Merry. But well might ye judge, I spake it all in mockage;

For why is Roister Doister a fit husband for you?

T. Trusty. I dare say ye never thought it.

M. Merry. No, to God I vow.

And did not I know afore of the insurance

Between Gawin Goodluck and Christian Custance?

And did not I for the nonce, by my conveyance,

Read his letter in a wrong sense for dalliance?

That if you could have take it up at the first bound,

We should thereat such a sport and pastime have found,

That all the whole town should have been the merrier.

C. Custance. Ill ache your heads both! I was never wearier,

Nor never more vexed since the first day I was born.

T. Trusty. But very well I wist, he here did all in scorn.

C. Custance. But I feared thereof to take dishonesty.

M. Merry. This should both have made sport, and showed your honesty;

And Goodluck, I dare swear, your wit therein would 'low.[153]

T. Trusty. Yea, being no worse than we know it to be now.

M. Merry. And nothing yet too late: for, when I come to him,

Hither will he repair with a sheep's look full grim,

By plain force and violence to drive you to yield.

C. Custance. If ye two bid me, we will with him pitch a field,

I and my maids together.

M. Merry. Let us see; be bold!

C. Custance. Ye shall see women's war.

T. Trusty. That fight will I behold.

M. Merry. If occasion serve, taking his part full brim,

I will strike at you, but the rap shall light on him.

When we first appear—

Custance. Then will I run away,

As though I were afeard.

T. Trusty. Do you that part well play,

And I will sue for peace.

M. Merry. And I will set him on;

Then will he look as fierce as a Cotsold lion.[154]

T. Trusty. But when goest thou for him?

M. Merry. That do I very now.

C. Custance. Ye shall find us here.

M. Merry. Well, God have mercy on you. [Exit.

T. Trusty. There is no cause of fear; the least boy in the street—

C. Custance. Nay, the least girl I have, will make him take his feet.

But, hark! me-think they make preparation.

T. Trusty. No force, it will be a good recreation.

C. Custance. I will stand within, and step forth speedily,

And so make as though I ran away dreadfully.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 7.

R. Roister, M. Merrygreek, C. Custance, D. Doughty, Harpax, Tristram Trusty.

R. Roister. Now, sirs, keep your 'ray, and see your hearts be stout.

But where be these caitiffs? Me-think they dare not rout.[155]

How sayest thou, Merrygreek? What doth Kit Custance say?

M. Merry. I am loth to tell you.

R. Roister. Tush, speak, man. Yea or nay?

M. Merry. Forsooth, sir, I have spoken for you all that I can;

But if ye win her, ye must e'en play the man:

E'en to fight it out ye must a man's heart take.

R. Roister. Yes, they shall know, as[156] thou knowest, I have a stomach.

M. Merry. A stomach (quod you), yea, as good as e'er man had.

R. Roister. I trow, they shall find and feel that I am a lad.

M. Merry. By this cross, I have seen you eat your meat as well

As any that e'er I have seen of, or heard tell.

A stomach, quod you? He that will that deny,

I know was never at dinner in your company.

R. Roister. Nay, the stomach of a man it is, that I mean.

M. Merry. Nay, the stomach of an horse or a dog, I ween.

R. Roister. Nay, a man's stomach with a weapon, mean I.

M. Merry. Ten men can scarce match you with a spoon in a pie.

R. Roister. Nay, the stomach of a man to try in strife.

M. Merry. I never saw your stomach cloyed yet in my life.

R. Roister. Tush, I mean in strife or fighting to try.

M. Merry. We shall see how ye will strike now, being angry.

R. Roister. Have at thy pate then, and save thy head, if thou may.

M. Merry. Nay, then, have at your pate again, by this day.

R. Roister. Nay, thou mayest not strike at me again in no wise.

M. Merry. I cannot in fight make to you such warrantise:

But as for your foes here let them the bargain[157] by.

R. Roister. Nay, as for [that,] they shall every mother's child die.

And in this my fume a little thing might make me

To beat down house and all, and else the devil take me.

M. Merry. If I were as ye be, by Gog's dear mother,

I would not leave one stone upon another.

Though she would redeem it with twenty thousand pounds.

R. Roister. It shall be even so, by his lily wounds!

M. Merry. Be not at one with her[158] upon any amends.

R. Roister. No, though she make to me never so many friends.

Not if all the world for her would undertake:

No, not God himself neither shall not her peace make.

On therefore, march forward! Soft, stay a while yet.

M. Merry. On!

R. Roister. Tarry.

M. Merry. Forth!

R. Roister. Back.

M. Merry. On!

R. Roister. Soft. Now forward set.

Enter C. Custance.

C. Custance. What business have we here? Out, alas, alas!

R. Roister. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Didst thou see that, Merrygreek, how afraid she was?

Didst thou see how she fled apace out of my sight?

Ah, good sweet Custance! I pity her, by this light.

M. Merry. That tender heart of yours will mar altogether;

Thus will ye be turned with wagging of a feather.

R. Roister. On, sirs, keep your 'ray.

M. Merry. On forth, while this gear is hot.

R. Roister. Soft, the Arms of Calais, I have one thing forgot.

M. Merry. What lack we now?

R. Roister. Retire, or else we be all slain.

M. Merry. Back, for the pash of God! back, sirs, back again!

What is the great matter?

R. Roister. This hasty forth-going

Had almost brought us all to utter undoing;

It made me forget a thing most necessary.

M. Merry. Well remembered of a captain, by Saint Mary.

R. Roister. It is a thing must be had.

M. Merry. Let us have it then.

R. Roister. But I wot not where or how.

M. Merry. Then wot not I when.

But what is it?

R. Roister. Of a chief thing I am to seek.

M. Merry. Tut, so will ye be, when ye have studied a week. [Aside.

But tell me what it is?

R. Roister. I lack yet an headpiece.

M. Merry. The kitchen collocavit the best hens to grease;

Run, fet it, Dobinet, and come at once withal,

And bring with thee my potgun,[159] hanging by the wall.[160]

I have seen your head with it, full many a time,

Covered as safe as it had been with a scrine:

And I warrant it save your head from any stroke,

Except perchance to be amazed with the smoke:

I warrant your head therewith, except for the mist,

As safe as if it were fast locked up in a chist.

And lo, here our Dobinet cometh with it now.

D. Dough. It will cover me to the shoulders well enou'.

M. Merry. Let me see it on.

R. Roister. In faith, it doth meetly well.

M. Merry. There can be no fitter thing. Now ye must us tell

What to do.

R. Roister. Now forth in 'ray, sirs, and stop no more.

M. Merry. Now, Saint George to borrow![161] Drum, dub-a-dub afore.

T. Trusty. What mean you to do, sir? Commit manslaughter?

R. Roister. To kill forty such is a matter of laughter.

T. Trusty. And who is it, sir, whom ye intend thus to spill?

R. Roister. Foolish Custance here forceth me against my will.

T. Trusty. And is there no mean your extreme wrath to slake?

She shall some amends unto your good maship make.

R. Roister. I will none amends.

T. Trusty. Is her offence so sore?

M. Merry. And he were a lout, she could have done no more.

She hath call'd him fool, and 'dressed him like a fool,

Mocked him like a fool, used him like a fool.

T. Trusty. Well, yet the Sheriff, the Justice or Constable,

Her misdemeanour to punish might be able.

R. Roister. No, sir, I mine own self will, in this present cause,

Be Sheriff and Justice, and whole Judge of the laws.

This matter to amend all officers be I shall:

Constable, Bailiff, Sergeant—

M. Merry. And hangman, and all. [Aside.

T. Trusty. Yet a noble courage and the heart of a man

Should more honour win by bearing with a woman.

Therefore take the law, and let her answer thereto.

R. Roister. Merrygreek, the best way were even so to do.

What honour should it be with a woman to fight?

M. Merry. And what, then, will ye thus forego and lese your right?

R. Roister. Nay, I will take the law on her withouten grace.

T. Trusty. Or, if your maship could pardon this one trespass—

I pray you, forgive her.

R. Roister. Hoh!

M. Merry. Tush, tush, sir, do not.

T. Trusty. Be good master to her.

R. Roister. Hoh!

M. Merry. Tush, I say, do not.

And what! shall your people here return straight home?

R. Roister. Yea, levy the camp, sirs, and hence again each one.

But be still in readiness, if I hap to call;[162]

I cannot tell what sudden chance may befall.

M. Merry. Do not off your harness, sirs, I you advise,

At the least for this fortnight, in no manner wise.

Perchance in an hour, when all ye think least,

Our master's appetite to fight will be best.

But soft, ere ye go, have once at Custance house.

R. Roister. Soft, what wilt thou do?

M. Merry. Once discharge my arquebus;

And for my heart's ease, have once more with my potgun.

R. Roister. Hold thy hands! else is all our purpose clean fordone.

M. Merry. And it cost me my life!

R. Roister. I say, thou shalt not.

M. Merry. By the matt,[163] but I will have once more with hail-shot.

I will have some pennyworth; I will not lese all.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 8.

M. Merrygreek, C. Custance, R. Roister, Tib. T., An. Alyface, M. Mumblecrust, Truepenny, Dobinet Doughty, Harpax.

Two drums with their Ensigns.

C. Custance. What caitiffs are those, that so shake my house-wall?

M. Merry. Ah, sirrah now Custance, if ye had so much wit,

I would see you ask pardon, and yourselves submit.

C. Custance. Have I still this ado with a couple of fools?

M. Merry. Hear ye what she saith?

C. Custance. Maidens, come forth with your tools,

In a ray.

M. Merry. Dubba-dub, sirrah!

R. Roister. In a ray!

They come suddenly on us.

M. Merry. Dub-a-dub-dub!

R. Roister. In a ray!

That ever I was born! we are taken tardy.

M. Merry. Now, sirs, quit yourselves like tall men and hardy.

C. Custance. On afore, Truepenny! Hold thine own, Annot!

On toward them, Tibet, for scape us they cannot!

Come forth, Madge Mumblecrust! so, stand fast together.

M. Merry. God send us a fair day!

R.

Roister

. See, they march on hither.

Tib. Talk. But, mistress—

C. Custance. What say'st thou?

Tib. Talk. Shall I go fet our goose?

C. Custance. What to do?

Tib. Talk. To yonder Captain I will turn her loose.

And she gape and hiss at him, as she doth at me,

I durst jeopard my hand she will make him flee.[164]

C. Custance. On forward!

R. Roister. They come.

M. Merry. Stand!

R. Roister. Hold!

M. Merry. Keep!

R. Roister. There!

M. Merry. Strike!

R. Roister. Take heed!

C. Custance. Well said, Truepenny!

Truepenny. Ah, whoresons!

C. Custance. Well done, indeed!

M. Merry. Hold thine own, Harpax! Down with them, Dobinet!

C. Custance. Now, Madge; there, Annot; now stick them, Tibet!

Tib. Talk. All my chief quarrel is to this same little knave,

That beguiled me last day; nothing shall him save.

D. Dough. Down with this little quean, that hath at me such spite!

Save you from her, master, it is a very sprite.

C. Custance. I myself will mounsire grand captain undertake.

R. Roister. They win ground!

M. Merry. Save yourself, sir, for God's sake!

R. Roister. Out, alas! I am slain; help!

M. Merry. Save yourself!

R. Roister. Alas!

M. Merry. Nay, then, have at you, mistress.

R. Roister. Thou hittest me, alas!

M. Merry. I will strike at Custance here.

R. Roister. Thou hittest me!

M. Merry. (aside.) So I will.

Nay, mistress Custance.

R. Roister. Alas! thou hittest me still.

Hold!

M. Merry. Save yourself, sir!

R. Roister. Help! out alas! I am slain.

M. Merry. Truce, hold your hands! truce, for a pissing while or twain.[165]

Now, how say you, Custance, for saving of your life,

Will ye yield, and grant to be this gentleman's wife?

C. Custance. Ye told me he loved me; call ye this love?

M. Merry. He loved a while, even like a turtle-dove.

C. Custance. Gay love, God save it! so soon hot, so soon cold.

M. Merry. I am sorry for you: he could love you yet, so he could.

R. Roister. Nay, by Cock's precious, she shall be none of mine.

M. Merry. Why so?

R. Roister. Come away, by the matt, she is mankine.[166]

I durst adventure the loss of my right hand.

If she did not slee her other husband.

And see, if she prepare not again to fight!

M. Merry. What, then, Saint George to borrow, our Lady's knight?

R. Roister. Slee else whom she will, by Gog, she shall not slee me.

M. Merry. How then?

R. Roister. Rather than to be slain, I will flee.

C. Custance. To it again, my knightesses! down with them all!

R. Roister. Away, away, away! she will else kill us all.

M. Merry. Nay, stick to it, like an hardy man and a tall.

R. Roister. O bones, thou hittest me! Away, or else die we shall.

M. Merry. Away, for the pash of our sweet Lord Jesus Christ!

C. Custance. Away, lout and lubber, or I shall be thy priest!

[Exeant Om.[167]

So this field is ours; we have driven them all away.

Tib. Talk. Thanks to God, mistress, ye have had a fair day.

C. Custance. Well, now go ye in, and make yourself some good cheer.

Omnes Pariter. We go.

T. Trusty. Ah, sir! what a field we have had here.

C. Custance. Friend Tristram, I pray you be a witness with me.

T. Trusty. Dame Custance, I shall depose for your honesty.

And now fare ye well, except something else ye would.

C. Custance. Not now, but when I need to send, I will be bold. [Exeat.

I thank you for these pains. And now I will get me in.

Now Roister Doister will no more wooing begin. [Ex.

ACTUS V., SCÆNA 1.

Gawin Goodluck, Sim. Suresby.

G. Good. Sim. Suresby, my trusty man, now advise thee well,

And see that no false surmises thou me tell.

Was there such ado about Custance, of a truth?

Sim. Sure. To report that I heard and saw to me is ruth;

But both my duty, and name, and property,[168]

Warneth me to you to show fidelity.

It may be well enough, and I wish it so to be,

She may herself discharge, and try her honesty;

Yet their claim to her, me-thought, was very large,

For with letters, rings, and tokens they did her charge.

Which when I heard and saw, I would none to you bring.

G. Good. No, by Saint Mary, I allow thee[169] in that thing.

Ah sirrah! now I see truth in the proverb old:

All things that shineth is not by and by pure gold.

If any do live a woman of honesty,

I would have sworn Christian Custance had been she.

Sim. Sure. Sir, though I to you be a servant true and just,

Yet do not ye therefore your faithful spouse mistrust;

But examine the matter, and if ye shall it find

To be all well, be not ye for my words unkind.

G. Good. I shall do that is right, and as I see cause why.

But here cometh Custance forth; we shall know by and by.

ACTUS V., SCÆNA 2.

C. Custance, Gawin Goodluck, Sim. Suresby.

C. Custance. I come forth to see and hearken for news good;

For about this hour is the time, of likelihood,

That Gawin Goodluck, by the sayings of Suresby,

Would be at home; and lo! yond I see him, I.

What, Gawin Goodluck! the only hope of my life,

Welcome home, and kiss me your true espoused wife.

G. Good. Nay, soft, dame Custance; I must first, by your licence,

See whether all things be clear in your conscience.

I hear of your doings to me very strange.

C. Custance. What! fear ye that my faith towards you should change?

G. Good. I must needs mistrust ye be elsewhere entangled,

For I hear that certain men with you have wrangled

For I hear that certain men with you have wrangled

About the promise of marriage by you to them made.

C. Custance. Could any man's report therein your mind persuade!

G. Good. Well, you must therein declare yourself to stand clear,

Else I and you, dame Custance, may not join this year.

C. Custance. Then would I were dead, and fair laid in my grave.

Ah! Suresby, is this the honesty that ye have,

To hurt me with your report, not knowing the thing?

Sim. Sure. If ye be honest, my words can hurt you nothing;

But what I heard and saw, I might not but report,

C. Custance. Ah, Lord, help poor widows, destitute of comfort!

Truly, most dear spouse, nought was done but for pastance.

G. Good. But such kind of sporting is homely daliance.

C. Custance. If ye knew the truth, ye would take all in good part.

G. Good. By your leave, I am not half well-skilled in that art.

C. Custance. It was none but Roister Doister, that foolish mome.

G. Good. Yea, Custance, better (they say) a bad excuse than none.

C. Custance. Why, Tristram Trusty, sir, your true and faithful friend,

Was privy both to the beginning and the end.

Let him be the judge, and for me testify.

G. Good. I will the more credit that he shall verify;

And because I will the truth know, e'en as it is,

I will to him myself, and know all without miss.

Come on, Sim. Suresby, that before my friend thou may

Avouch thee the same words, which thou did'st to me say. [Exeant.

ACTUS V., SCÆNA 3.

Christian Custance.

C. Custance. O Lord! how necessary it is now of days,

That each body live uprightly all manner ways;

For let never so little a gap be open,

And be sure of this, the worst shall be spoken.

How innocent stand I in this for deed or thought,

And yet see what mistrust towards me it hath wrought.

But thou, Lord, knowest all folks' thoughts, and eke intents;

And thou art the deliverer of all innocents.

Thou didst help the advoutress,[170] that she might be amended;

Much more then help, Lord, that never ill intended.

Thou didst help Susanna, wrongfully accused,

And no less dost thou see, Lord, how I am now abused.

Thou didst help Hester, when she should have died;

Help also, good Lord, that my truth may be tried.

Yet, if Gawin Goodluck with Tristram Trusty speak,

I trust of ill-report the force shall be but weak;

And lo! yond they come, sadly talking together:

I will abide, and not shrink for their coming hither.

ACTUS V., SCÆNA 4.

Gawin Goodluck, Tristram Trusty, C. Custance, Sim. Suresby.

G. Good. And was it none other than ye to me report?

T. Trusty. No; and here were ye wished, to have seen the sport.

G. Good. Would I had, rather than half of that in my purse.

Sim. Sure. And I do much rejoice the matter was no worse.

And like as to open it I was to you faithful,

So of Dame Custance honest truth I am joyful.

For God forfend that I should hurt her by false report.

G. Good. Well, I will no longer hold her in discomfort.

C. Custance. Now come they hitherward: I trust all shall be well.

G. Good. Sweet Custance, neither heart can think, nor tongue tell,

How much I joy in your constant fidelity.

Come now, kiss me, the pearl of perfect honesty.

C. Custance. God let me no longer to continue in life,

Than I shall towards you continue a true wife.

G. Good. Well, now to make you for this some part of amends,

I shall desire first you, and then such of our friends

As shall to you seem best, to sup at home with me,

Where at your fought field we shall laugh and merry be.

Sim. Sure. And, mistress, I beseech you take with me no grief:[171]

I did a true man's part, not wishing your repreef.

C. Custance. Though hasty reports, through surmises growing,

May of poor innocents be utter overthrowing,

Yet because to thy master thou hast a true heart,

And I know mine own truth, I forgive thee for my part.

G. Good. Go we all to my house, and of this gear no more.

Go, prepare all things, Sim. Suresby; hence, run afore.

Sim. Sure. I go. [Ex.

G. Good. Good. But who cometh yond? Master Merrygreek?

C. Custance. Roister Doister's champion; I shrew his best cheek.

T. Trusty. Roister Doister's self, your wooer, is with him too.

Surely some thing there is with us they have to do.

ACTUS V., SCÆNA 5.

M. Merrygreek, Ralph Roister [to them], Gawin Goodluck, Tristram Trusty, C. Custance.

M. Merry. Yonder I see Gawin Goodluck, to whom lieth my message.

I will first salute him after his long voyage,

And then make all things well concerning your behalf.

R. Roister. Yea, for the pash of God.

M. Merry. Hence! out of sight, ye calf,

Till I have spoke with them, and then I will you fet.

R. Roister. In God's name.[172]

M. Merry. What, master Gawin Goodluck, well-met;

And from your long voyage I bid you right welcome home.

G. Good. I thank you.

M. Merry. I come to you from an honest mome,

G. Good. Who is that?

M. Merry. Roister Doister, that doughty kite.

C. Custance. Fie! I can scarce abide ye should his name recite.

M. Merry. Ye must take him to favour, and pardon all past;

He heareth of your return, and is full ill aghast.

G. Good. I am right well content he have with us some cheer.

C. Custance. Fie upon him, beast! then will not I be there.

G. Good. Why, Custance, do ye hate him more than ye love me?

C. Custance. But for your mind, sir, where he were, would I not be.

T. Trusty. He would make us all laugh.

M. Merry. Ye ne'er had better sport.

G. Good. I pray you, sweet Custance, let him to us resort.

C. Custance. To your will I assent.

M. Merry. Why, such a fool it is,

As no man for good pastime would forego or miss.

G. Good. Fet him to go with us.

M. Merry. He will be a glad man. [Ex.

T. Trusty. We must, to make us mirth, maintain him[173] all we can.

And lo, yond' he cometh, and Merrygreek with him.

C. Custance. At his first entrance, ye shall see I will him trim.

But first let us hearken the gentleman's wise talk.

T. Trusty. I pray you, mark, if ever ye saw crane so stalk.

ACTUS V., SCÆNA 6.

R. Roister, M. Merrygreek, C. Custance, G. Goodluck, T. Trusty, D. Doughty, Harpax.

R. Roister. May I then be bold?

M. Merry. I warrant you on my word.

They say they shall be sick, but ye be at their board.

R. Roister. They were not angry, then?

M. Merry. Yes, at first, and made strange;

But when I said your anger to favour should change,

And therewith had commended you accordingly,

They were all in love with your maship by and by;

And cried you mercy, that they had done you wrong.

R. Roister. For why no man, woman, nor child can hate me long.

M. Merry. We fear (quod they) he will be avenged one day;

Then for a penny give all our lives we may.

R. Roister. Said they so indeed?

M. Merry. Did they? yea, even with one voice.

He will forgive all (quod I). O, how they did rejoice!

R. Roister. Ha, ha, ha!

M. Merry. Go fet him (say they), while he is in good mood;

For have his anger who lust, we will not, by the rood!

R. Roister. I pray God that it be all true, that thou hast me told,

And that she fight no more.

M. Merry. I warrant you; be bold.

To them, and salute them.

R. Roister. Sirs, I greet you all well.

Omnes. Your mastership is welcome.

C. Custance. Saving my quarrel,

For sure I will put you up into the Exchequer.

M. Merry. Why so? Better nay. Wherefore?

C. Custance. For an usurer.

R. Roister. I am no usurer, good mistress, by His arms.

M. Merry. When took he gain of money, to any man's harms?

C. Custance. Yes, a foul usurer he is, ye shall see else.

R. Roister. Did'st not thou promise she would pick no mo quarrels?

[To Merr.

C. Custance. He will lend no blows, but he have in recompense

Fifteen for one, which is too much of conscience.

R. Roister. Ah dame! by the ancient law of arms, a man

Hath no honour to foil his hands on a woman.

C. Custance. And where other usurers take their gains yearly,

This man is angry, but he have his by and by.

G. Good. Sir, do not for her sake bear me your displeasure.

M. Merry. Well, he shall with you talk thereof more at leisure.

Upon your good usage he will now shake your hand.

R. Roister. And much heartily welcome from a strange land.

M. Merry. Be not afeard, Gawin, to let him shake your fist.

G. Good. O, the most honest gentleman that e'er I wist.

I do beseech your maship to take pain to sup with us.

M. Merry. He shall not say you nay, (and I too by Jesus,)

Because ye shall be friends, and let all quarrels pass.

R. Roister. I will be as good friends with them as e'er I was.

M. Merry. Then, let me fet your quire, that we may have a song.

R. Roister. Go.

G. Good. I have heard no melody all this year long.

M. Merry.[174] Come on, sirs, quickly.

R. Roister. Sing on, sirs, for my friend's sake.

D. Dough. Call ye these your friends?

R. Roister. Sing on, and no mo words make. [Here they sing.

G. Good. The Lord preserve our most noble Queen of renown,[175]

And her virtues reward with the heavenly crown.

C. Custance. The Lord strengthen her most excellent Majesty,

Long to reign over us in all prosperity.

T. Trusty. That her godly proceedings, the faith to defend,

He may stablish and maintain through to the end.

M. Merry. God grant her, as she doth, the Gospel to protect,

Learning and virtue to advance, and vice to correct.

R. Roister. God grant her loving subjects both the mind and grace

Her most godly proceedings worthily to embrace.

Harpax. Her highness most worthy councillors God prosper,

With honour and love all men to minister.

Omnes. God grant the nobility her to serve and love,

With all the common'ty, as doth them behove!

Amen.[176]

Certain Songs[177] to be sung by those which shall use this Comedy or Interlude.

The Second Song.

Who so to marry a minion wife,[178]

Hath had good chance and hap,

Must love her and cherish her all his life,

And dandle her in his lap,

If she will fare well, if she will go gay,

A good husband ever still,

Whatever she lust to do or to say,

Must let her have her own will,

About what affairs soever he go,

He must show her all his mind,

None of his counsels she may be kept fro,

Else is he a man unkind.

The Fourth Song.

I mun be married a Sunday;

I mun be married a Sunday;

Whosoever shall come that way,

I mun be married a Sunday.

Roister Doister is my name;

Roister Doister is my name;

A lusty brute I am the same;

I mun be married a Sunday.

Christian Custance have I found;

Christian Custance have I found;

A widow worth a thousand pound:

I mun be married a Sunday.

Custance is as sweet as honey;

Custance is as sweet as honey;

I her lamb, and she my coney;

I mun be married a Sunday.

When we shall make our wedding feast,

When we shall make our wedding feast,

There shall be cheer for man and beast;

I mun be married a Sunday.

I mun be married a Sunday, &c.

The Psalmody.

Placebo dilexi.

Master Roister Doister will straight go home and die,

Our Lord Jesus Christ his soul have mercy upon:

Thus you see, to-day a man, to-morrow John.[179]

Yet, saving for a woman's extreme cruelty,

He might have lived yet a month, or two, or three;

But in spite of Custance, which hath him wearied,

His maship shall be worshipfully buried.

And while some piece of his soul is yet him within,

Some part of his funeral let us here begin.

Dirige. He will go darkling[180] to his grave;

Neque lux, neque crux, nisi solum clink;

Never genman so went toward heaven, I think.

Yet, sirs, as ye will the bliss of heaven win,

When he cometh to the grave, lay him softly in;

And all men take heed by this one gentleman,

How you set your love upon an unkind woman;

For these women be all such mad peevish elves,

They will not be won, except it please themselves.

But, in faith, Custance, if ever ye come in hell,

Master Roister Doister shall serve you as well.

Good night, Roger, old knave; farewell, Roger, old knave;

Good night, Roger, old knave; knave, knap.

Ne quando. Audivi vocem. Requiem æternam.

The Peal of bells rung by the parish Clerk and

Roister Doister's four men.

The first Bell, a Triple. When died he? When died he?

The second. We have him! We have him!

The third. Roister Doister! Roister Doister!

The fourth Bell. He cometh! He cometh!

The great Bell. Our own! Our own!

FINIS

GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE.

A Ryght Pithy, Pleasaunt, and merie Comedie: Intytuled Gammer gurtons Needle: Played on Stage not longe ago in Christes Colledge in Cambridge. Made by Mr S. Mr. of Art. Imprynted at London, in Fleetestreat beneth the Conduit at the signe of S. John Euangelist, by Thomas Colwell. 1575. 4º. Black letter.

There was a second edition, 4to, 1661, which is of no value.

[I found this introduction to "Gammer Gurton's Needle" among some collections made by my father about twenty years ago for a similar purpose, and as it was much fuller than that previously printed, it has been substituted. I have, however, introduced a few additions from the Memoirs of Still in the "Athenæ Cantabrigienses," ii., 467, and the "Proceedings of the Suffolk Institute of Archæology," iii., 130, the latter kindly communicated to me by Mr Joseph Bryant, of Cheshunt.—W. C. H.

PREFACE.

John Still, the reputed author of this play, was the only son of William Still, Esq. of Grantham, in Lincolnshire, and was born in or about 1543. In 1559 he matriculated as a pensioner in Christ's College, Cambridge, proceeded B.A. in 1561-2, and was elected M.A. in 1565. In 1570 he was presented to the rectory of St Martin Outwich, London, and in the same year proceeded B.D. On the 30th July 1571, Archbishop Parker collated Still to the rectory of Hadleigh, in Suffolk, and in 1572 the primate, to whom he was chaplain, appointed him, with Dr Watts, Joint-Dean of Bocking. Other church preferments followed in quick succession; but this is perhaps scarcely a place for entering at large into biographical particulars, more especially as the authorship of the drama is a little uncertain. We must content ourselves with noting his gradual rise from the deanery of Bocking to the canonry at Westminster, the mastership of St John's College, Cambridge, the vice-chancellorship of the university on two occasions, the mastership of Trinity College, Cambridge, and finally, the bishopric of Bath and Wells, to which last dignity he was named 16 January 1592-3. He died at the episcopal palace at Wells, February 26, 1607-8, and was buried, on the 4th April following, in the cathedral, where a handsome monument was erected to his memory. He was twice married, and left behind him several children. His excellent character is attested by Sir John Harington, who says that he was a man "to whom I never came but I grew more religious, and from whom I never went but I parted more instructed." The comedy of "Gammer Gurton's Needle," the only dramatic product of his pen of which we have any knowledge, was "played on stage, in Christ's College, Cambridge," in the year 1566, and the following entry from the bursars' books of that college, on the occasion, manifests that the authorities applied themselves to its production with spirit. "Item, for the Carpenters setting upp the Scaffold at the plaie xxd.[181]" At this time, Mr Still was twenty-three years old; but an entry in the registers of the Stationers' Company, under the year 1563, is considered by Mr Collier to have very possible reference to the present comedy, and, in this case, the young clergyman would have begun, and ended, his authorship ere he was nineteen: "Received of Thomas Colwell for his lycense for pryntinge of a play intituled Dyccon of Bedlam, iiijd." There is no such play, Mr Collier points out, as "Dyccon of Bedlam," but Diccon of Bedlam is a principal character in "Gammer Gurton's Needle;" and it is further to be observed that Thomas Colwell is the same publisher, "at the sygne of S. John Evangelist, beneth the Conduit in Fleetestreat," by whom the earliest known edition of the present comedy was produced. The circumstance, after all, is as inconclusive as the fact is immaterial. The true subject of regret is, not that we cannot determine precisely whether Still wrote comedy when he was nineteen, or when he was twenty-three, but that having written one play so well, he did not write more. Had he so elected to do, indeed, the See of Bath and Wells might not have seen the name of Still in its Catena Episcoporum, but the other prelate would, doubtless, have done his duty, and English readers would have been amused with further Gammer Gurtons.

"Gammer Gurton's Needle," acted at Christ's College, Cambridge, in 1566, "has," writes Mr Collier, "this peculiarity belonging to it, that it is the first existing play acted at either university; and it is a singular coincidence, that the author of the comedy so represented should be the very person who, many years afterwards, when he had become Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge, was called upon to remonstrate with the Ministers of Queen Elizabeth against having an English play performed before her at that university, as unbefitting its learning, dignity, and character."[182] Of the play itself Hazlitt writes: "It is a regular comedy in five acts, built on the circumstance of an old woman having lost her needle, which throws the whole village into confusion, till it is at last providentially found sticking in an unlucky part of Hodge's dress. This must evidently have happened at a time when the manufacturers of Sheffield and Birmingham had not reached the height of perfection which they have at present done. Suppose that there is only one sewing-needle in a parish, that the owner, a diligent, notable old dame, loses it; that a mischief-making wag sets it about that another old woman has stolen this valuable instrument of household industry; that strict search is made in-doors for it in vain, and that then the incensed parties sally forth to scold it out in the open air, till words end in blows, and the affair is referred over to higher authorities; and we shall have an exact idea (though perhaps not so lively a one) of what passes in this authentic document between Gammer Gurton and her gossip Dame Chat; Diccon, the bedlam (the causer of these harms); Hodge, Gammer Gurton's servant; Tib, her maid; Cock, her prentice boy; Doll; Scapethrift; Master Baillie, his master; Doctor Rat, the curate; and Gib the cat, who may be fairly reckoned one of the dramatis personæ, and performs no mean part." "Such," observes the same critic, further on, characterising the comedy, "Such was the wit, such was the mirth of our ancestors—homely, but hearty; coarse, perhaps, but kindly; let no man despise it; for "evil to him that evil thinks." To think it poor and beneath notice, because it is not just like ours, is the same sort of hypercriticism that was exercised by the person who refused to read some old books because they were "such very poor spelling." The meagreness of their literary or their bodily fare was at least relished by themselves; and this is better than a surfeit or an indigestion. It is refreshing to look out of ourselves sometimes, not to be always holding the glass to our own peerless perfections; and as there is a dead wall which always intercepts the prospect of the future from our view (all that we can see beyond it is the heavens), it is as well to direct our eyes now and then without scorn to the page of history; and repulsed in our attempts to penetrate the secrets of the next six thousand years, not to turn our backs on old long syne."[183]

This entertaining old piece is mentioned in "Histriomastix," 1610, act ii. (sign. C. 3), under the title of "Mother Gurton's Needle," and in burlesque it is there called "a Tragedy."

The present edition of "Gammer Gurton's Needle" is printed from that of 1575.

THE NAMES OF THE SPEAKERS IN THIS COMEDY.

• Diccon[184], the Bedlam.[185]
• Hodge, Gammer Gurton's Servant.
• Tib, Gammer Gurton's Maid.
• Gammer Gurton.
• Cock, Gammer Gurton's Boy.
• Dame Chat.
• Doctor Rat, the Curate.
• Master Baily.
• Doll, Dame Chat's Maid
• Scapethrift, Master Baily's Servant.
• Mutes.

PROLOGUE

As Gammer Gurton, with many a wide stitch,

Sat piecing and patching of Hodge her man's breech,

By chance or misfortune, as she her gear toss'd,

In Hodge leather breeches her needle she lost.

When Diccon the Bedlam had heard by report,

That good Gammer Gurton was robbed in this sort,

He quietly persuaded with her in that stound,

Dame Chat, her dear gossip, this needle had found.

Yet knew she no more of this matter (alas),

Than knoweth Tom our clerk what the priest saith at mass.

Hereof there ensued so fearful a fray,

Mas. Doctor was sent for, these gossips to stay;

Because he was curate and esteemed full wise,

Who found that he sought not, by Diccon's device.

When all things were tumbled and clean out of fashion,

Whether it were by fortune, or some other constellation,

Suddenly the needle Hodge found by the pricking,

And drew it out of his buttock, where he found it sticking.

Their hearts then at rest with perfect security,

With a pot of good nale they struck up their plaudity.

GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE.

THE FIRST ACT.

THE FIRST SCENE.

Diccon. Many a mile have I walked divers and sundry ways,

And many a good man's house have I been at in my days,

Many a gossip's cup in my time have I tasted,

And many a broach and spit have I both turned and basted,

Many a piece of bacon have I had out of their balks,[186]

In running over the country with long and weary walks.

Yet came my foot never within those door cheeks,

To seek flesh or fish, garlick, onions, or leeks,

That ever I saw a sort in such a plight,[187]

As here within this house appeareth to my sight,

There is howling and scowling, all cast in a dump,

With whewling and puling, as though they had lost a trump.

Sighing and sobbing, they weep and they wail.

I marvel in my mind what the devil they ail.

The old trot sits groaning with alas and alas,[188]

And Tib wrings her hands and takes on in worse case.

With poor Cock their boy, they be driven in such fits,

I fear me the folks be not well in their wits.

Ask them what they ail, or who brought them in this stay?

They answer not at all, but alack and wellaway.

When I saw it booted not, out at doors I hied me,

And caught a slip of bacon, when I saw none spied me,

Which I intend not far hence, unless my purpose fail,

Shall serve me for a shoeing horn to draw on two pots of ale.[189]

THE FIRST ACT.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Hodge, Diccon.

Hodge. See, so cham arrayed[190] with dabbling in the dirt!

She that set me to ditching, ich would she had the squirt.

Was never poor soul that such a life had?

Gog's bones, this vilthy glay has dress'd me too bad.

Gog's soul, see how this stuff tears!

Ich were better to be a bearward, and set to keep bears.

By the mass, here is a gash, a shameful hole indeed,

And one stitch tear further, a man may thrust in his head.

Diccon. By my father's soul, Hodge, if I should now be sworn,

I cannot choose but say thy breech is foul betorn.

But the next remedy in such a case and hap

Is to planch[191] on a piece as broad as thy cap.

Hodge. Gog's soul, man, 'tis not yet two days fully ended,

Since my dame Gurton (cham sure) these breeches amended.

But cham made such a drudge to trudge at every need,

Chwold rend it, though it were stiched with sturdy packthread.

Diccon. Hodge, let thy breeches go, and speak and tell me soon,

What devil aileth Gammer Gurton, and Tib her maid to frown.

Hodge. Tush, man, th' art deceived, 'tis their daily look:

They cow'r[192] so over the coals, their eyes be blear'd with smoke.

Diccon. Nay, by the mass, I perfectly perceived as I came hither,

That either Tib and her dame hath been by the ears together,

Or else as great a matter, as thou shalt shortly see.

Hodge. Now ich beseech our Lord they never better agree.

Diccon. By Gog's soul, there they sit as still as stones in the street;

As though they had been taken with fairies, or else with some ill-spreet.

Hodge. Gog's heart, I durst have laid my cap to a crown,

Ch'would learn of some prancome, as soon as ich came to town.

Diccon. Why, Hodge, art thou inspired? or didst thou thereof hear?

Hodge. Nay, but ich saw such a wonder, as ich saw nat this seven year.

Tom Tankard's cow (by Gog's bones) she set me up her sail,

And flinging about his halse aker,[193] fisking with her tail,

As though there had been in her arse a swarm of bees;

And chad not cried tphrowh, whore, shea'd leapt out of his lees.

Diccon. Why, Hodge, lies the cunning in Tom Tankard's cow's tail?

Hodge. Well, ich chave heard some say such tokens do not fail.

But ca'st thou not tell, in faith, Diccon, why she frowns, or whereat?

Hath no man stolen her ducks or hens, or gelded Gib her cat?[194]

Diccon. What devil can I tell, man, I could not have one word,

They gave no more heed to my talk than thou wouldst to a lord.

Hodge. Ich cannot skill but muse, what marvellous thing it is:

Chill in and know myself what matters are amiss.

Diccon. Then farewell, Hodge, a while, since thou dost inward haste,

For I will into the good wife Chat's, to feel how the ale doth taste.

THE FIRST ACT.

THE THIRD SCENE.

Hodge, Tib.

Hodge. Cham aghast, by the mass, ich wot not what to do.

Chad need bless me well, before ich go them to.

Perchance some felon sprit may haunt our house indeed.

And then chwere but a noddy to venture, where cha' no need.

Tib. Cham worse than mad, by the mass, to be at this stay,

Cham chid, cham blam'd, and beaten all th' hours on the day.

Lamed and hunger-starved, pricked up all in jags,

Having no patch to hide my back, save a few rotten rags.

Hodge. I say, Tib, if thou be Tib, as I trow sure thou be,

What devil make-a-do is this between our dame and thee?

Tib. Gog's bread, Hodge, thou had a good turn, thou wert not here this while.

It had been better for some of us to have been hence a mile.

My gammer is so out of course, and frantic all at once,

That Cock our boy and I, poor wench, have felt it on our bones.

Hodge. What is the matter, say on, Tib, whereat she taketh so on?

Tib. She is undone; she saith (alas) her joy and life is gone.

If she hear not of some comfort, she saith she is but dead,

Shall never come within her lips one inch of meat ne bread.

Hodge. By'r lady, cham not very glad to see her in this dump;

Chold a noble her stool hath fallen, and she hath broke her rump.

Tib. Nay, and that were the worst, we would not greatly care,

For bursting[195] of her huckle-bone or breaking of her chair,

But greater, greater is her grief, as, Hodge, we shall all feel.

Hodge. Gog's wounds, Tib, my gammer has never lost her nee'le?

Tib. Her nee'le!

Hodge. Her nee'le?

Tib. Her nee'le; by him that made me, it is true, Hodge, I tell thee.

Hodge. Gog's sacrament! I would she had lost th' heart out of her belly.

The devil or else his dame, they ought her sure a shame,

How a murrion came this chance, (say, Tib) unto our dame?

Tib. My gammer sat her down on her pes,[196] and bad me reach thy breeches,

And by and by, a vengeance in it, ere she had take two stitches,

To clout a clout upon thine arse, by chance aside she leers,

And Gib our cat in the milk-pan she spied over head and ears.

Ah whore, out these, she cried aloud, and swept the breeches down,

Up went her staff, and out leapt Gib at doors into the town.

And since that time was, never wight could set their eyes upon it.

Gog's malison chave Cock and I bid twenty times light on it.[197]

Hodge. And is not then my breeches sewed up, to-morrow that I should wear?

Tib. No, in faith, Hodge, thy breeches lie, for all this never the near.

Hodge. Now a vengeance light on all the sort, that better should have kept it;

The cat, the house, and Tib our maid, that better should have swept it.

See where she cometh crawling! come on, in twenty devils' way;

Ye have made a fair day's work, have you not, pray you say?

THE FIRST ACT.

THE FOURTH SCENE.

Gammer, Hodge, Tib, Cock.

Gammer. Alas, alas, I may well curse and ban

This day, that ever I saw it, with Gib and the milk-pan.

For these and ill luck together, as knoweth Cock my boy,

Have stack[198] away my dear nee'le, and robbed me of my joy.

My fair long straight nee'le, that was mine only treasure,

The first day of my sorrow is, and last end of my pleasure.

Hodge (aside). Might ha' kept it, when ye had it; but fools will be fools still:

Lose that is vast in your hands? ye need not, but ye will.

Gammer. Go hie thee, Tib, and run, thou whore, to the end here of the town.

Didst carry out dust in thy lap? seek where thou pourest it down;

And as thou sawest me raking in the ashes where I mourned,

So see in all the heap of dust thou leave no straw unturned.

Tib. That chall, Gammer, swyth and tite,[199] and soon be

here again.

Gammer. Tib, stoop and look down to the ground to it,

and take some pain.

Hodge. Here is a pretty matter, to see this gear how it goes:

By Gog's soul, I think you would lose your arse, and it were loose.

Your nee'le lost? it is pity you should lack care and endless sorrow.

Gog's death, how shall my breeches be sewed? Shall I go thus to-morrow?

Gammer. Ah, Hodge, Hodge, if that ich could find my nee'le, by the reed,

Ch'ould sew thy breeches, ich promise thee, with full good double thread,

And set a patch on either knee should last this moneths twain,

Now God and good Saint Sithe,[200] I pray to send it home[201] again.

Hodge. Whereto served your hands and eyes, but this your nee'le to keep?

What devil had you else to do? ye keep, ich wot, no sheep.

Cham fain abroad to dig and delve, in water, mire, and clay,

Sossing and possing in the dirt still from day to day.

A hundred things that be abroad cham set to see them well:

And four of you sit idle at home, and cannot keep a nee'le!

Gammer. My nee'le, alas, ich lost it, Hodge, what time ich me up hasted,

To save milk set up for thee, which Gib our cat hath wasted.

Hodge. The devil he burst both Gib and Tib, with all the rest;

Cham always sure of the worst end, whoever have the best.

Where ha' you been fidging abroad, since you your nee'le lost?

Gammer. Within the house, and at the door, sitting by this same post;

Where I was looking a long hour, before these folks came here;

But, wellaway! all was in vain, my nee'le is never the near.

Hodge. Set me a candle, let me seek, and grope wherever it be.

Gog's heart, ye be foolish (ich think), you know it not, when you it see.

Gammer. Come hither, Cock: what, Cock, I say.

Cock. How, Gammer?

Gammer. Go, hie thee soon, and grope behind the old brass pan,

Which thing when thou hast done,

There shalt thou find an old shoe, wherein, if thou look well,

Thou shalt find lying an inch of white tallow candle;

Light it, and bring it tite away.

Cock. That shall be done anon.

Gammer. Nay, tarry, Hodge, till thou hast light, and then we'll seek each one.

Hodge. Come away, ye whoreson boy, are ye asleep? ye must have a crier.

Cock. Ich cannot get the candle light: here is almost no fire.

Hodge. Chill hold thee a penny, chill make thee come, if that ich may catch thine ears.

Art deaf, thou whoreson boy? Cock, I say; why, canst not hear?

Gammer. Beat him not, Hodge, but help the boy, and come you two together.

THE FIRST ACT.

THE FIFTH SCENE.

Gammer, Tib, Cock, Hodge.

Gammer. How now, Tib! quick, let's hear what news thou hast brought hither?

Tib. Chave tost and tumbled yonder heap over and over again,

And winnowed it through my fingers, as men would winnow grain;

Not so much as a hen's turd, but in pieces I tare it.

Or whatsoever clod or clay I found, I did not spare it.

Looking within and eke without, to find your nee'le (alas)

But all in vain and without help your nee'le is where it was.

Gammer. Alas, my nee'le, we shall never meet! adieu, adieu, for aye.

Tib. Not so, Gammer, we might it find, if we knew where it lay.

Cock. Gog's cross, Gammer, if ye will laugh, look in but at the door,

And see how Hodge lieth trembling and tossing amids the flour.

Raking there some fire to find among the ashes dead,

Where there is not one spark so big as a pin's head:

At last in a dark corner two sparks he thought he sees,

Which were indeed nought else but Gib our cat's two eyes.

Puff, quod Hodge, thinking thereby to have fire without doubt;

With that Gib shut her two eyes, and so the fire was out;

And by and by them opened, even as they were before,

With that the sparks appeared even as they had done of yore;

And even as Hodge blew the fire (as he did think),

Gib, as she felt the blast, straightway began to wink;

Till Hodge fell of swearing, as came best to his turn,

The fire was sure bewitch'd, and therefore would not burn:

At last Gib up the stairs, among the old posts and pins,

And Hodge he hied him after, till broke were both his shins:

Cursing and swearing oaths were never of his making,

That Gib would fire the house, if that she were not taken.

Gammer. See, here is all the thought that the foolish urchin taketh!

And Tib, me-think, at his elbow almost as merry maketh.

This is all the wit ye have, when others make their moan:

Come down, Hodge, where art thou? and let the cat alone.

Hodge. Gog's heart, help and come up: Gib in her tail hath fire,

And is like to burn all, if she get a little higher.

Come down (quoth you?) nay, then you might count me a patch,[202]

The house cometh down on your heads, if it take once the thatch.

Gammer. It is the cat's eyes, fool, that shineth in the dark.

Hodge. Hath the cat, do you think, in every eye a spark?

Gammer. No, but they shine as like fire as ever man see.

Hodge. By the mass, and she burn all, you sh' bear the blame for me.

Gammer. Come down and help to seek here our nee'le, that it were found;

Down, Tib, on thy knees, I say, down, Cock, to the ground.

To God I make a vow, and so to good Saint Anne,[203]

A candle shall they have a-piece, get it where I can,

If I may my nee'le find in one place or in other.

Hodge. Now a vengeance on Gib light, on Gib and Gib's mother.

And all the generation of cats both far and near.

Look on the ground, whoreson, thinks thou the nee'le is here?

Cock. By my troth, Gammer, me-thought your nee'le here I saw,

But when my fingers touch'd it, I felt it was a straw.

Tib. See, Hodge, what's t'is; may it not be within it?

Hodge. Break it, fool, with thy hand, and see, and thou canst find it.

Tib. Nay, break it you, Hodge, according to your word.

Hodge. Gog's sides, fie! it stinks: it is a cat's turd:

It were well done to make thee eat it, by the mass.

Gammer. This matter amendeth not, my nee'le is still where it was.

Our candle is at an end, let us all in quite,

And come another time, when we have more light.

THE SECOND ACT.

First a Song.[204]

Back and side go bare, go bare,

Both foot and hand go cold:

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.

I cannot eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good;

But sure I think, that I can drink

With him that wears a hood.[205]

Though I go bare, take ye no care,

I am nothing a-cold;

I stuff my skin so full within

Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, go bare,

Both foot and hand go cold:

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,[206]

And a crab laid in the fire.

A little bread shall do me stead:

Much bread I not desire.

No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,

Can hurt me if I would;

I am so wrapt, and thoroughly lapt

Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, &c.

And Tib my wife, that as her life

Loveth well good ale to seek,

Full oft drinks she, till ye may see

The tears run down her cheek;

Than doth she trowl to me the bowl[207]

Even as a malt-worm should;

And saith, sweet heart, I have take my part

Of this jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, &c.

Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,

Even as good fellows should do.

They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to;

And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,

Or have them lustly troll'd,

God save the lives of them and their wives,

Whether they be young or old.

Back and side go bare, &c.

THE FIRST SCENE.

Diccon, Hodge.

Diccon. Well done, by Gog's malt, well sung and well said:

Come on, mother Chat, as thou art a[208] true maid,

One fresh pot of ale let's see, to make an end,

Against this cold weather my naked arms[209] to defend:

This gear it warms the soul: now, wind, blow on thy worst,

And let us drink and swill till that our bellies burst,

Now were he a wise man, by cunning could define

Which way my journey lieth, or where Diccon will dine:

But one good turn I have, be it by night or day,

South, east, north, or west, I am never out of my way.

Hodge. Chim goodly rewarded, cham I not, do you think?

Chad a goodly dinner for all my sweat and swink.[210]

Neither butter, cheese, milk, onions, flesh, nor fish,

Save this piece of barley-bread: 'tis a pleasant costly dish!

Diccon. Hail, fellow Hodge, and well[211] to fare with thy meat, if you have any:

But by thy words, as I them smelled, thy daintrels be not many.

Hodge. Daintrels, Diccon! Gog's soul, man, save this piece of dry horsebread,

Chat bit no bit this livelong day, no crumb come in my head:

My guts they yawl, crawl, and all my belly rumbleth,

The puddings cannot lie still, each one over other tumbleth.

By Gog's heart, chain so vexed, and in my belly penn'd,

Chould one piece were at the spital-house, another at the castle's end.

Diccon. Why, Hodge, was there none at home thy dinner for to set?

Hodge. Gog's bread, Diccon, ich came too late, was nothing there to get:

Gib (a foul fiend might on her light) licked the milk-pan so clean;

See, Diccon, 'twas not so well washed this seven year, as ich ween.

A pestilence light on all ill-luck, chad thought yet for all this

Of a morsel of bacon behind the door at worst should not miss:

But when ich sought a slip to cut, as ich was wont to do,

Gog's souls, Diccon, Gib our cat had eat the bacon too:

[Which bacon Diccon stole, as is declared before.

Diccon. Ill-luck, quod he? marry, swear it, Hodge, this day the truth tell,

Thou rose not on thy right side, or else blessed thee not well.

Thy milk slopped up! thy bacon filched! that was too bad luck, Hodge.

Hodge. Nay, nay, there was a fouler fault, my Gammer ga' me the dodge:

Seest not how cham rent and torn, my heels, my knees, and my breech?

Chad thought, as ich sat by the fire, help here and there a stitch;

But there ich was pouped indeed.

Diccon. Why, Hodge?

Hodge. Boots not, man, to tell,

Cham so drest amongst a sort of fools, chad better be in hell,

My Gammer (cham ashamed to say) by God, served me not well.

Diccon. How so, Hodge?

Hodge. Has she not gone, trowest now thou, and lost her nee'le?

Diccon. Her eel, Hodge! who fished of late? that was a dainty dish.

Hodge. Tush, tush, her nee'le, her nee'le, her nee'le, man: 'tis neither flesh nor fish,

A little thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any sil'er,

Small, long, sharp at the point, and straight as any pillar.

Diccon. I know not what a devil thou meanest, thou bring'st me more in doubt.

Hodge. Knowest not with what Tom-tailor's man sits broaching through a clout?

A nee'le, a nee'le, a nee'le, my Gammer's nee'le is gone.

Diccon. Her nee'le! Hodge, now I smell thee; that was a chance alone:

By the mass, thou hast a shameful loss, and it were but for thy breeches.

Hodge. Gog's soul, man, chould give a crown, chad it but three stitches.

Diccon. How sayest thou, Hodge? what should he have, again thy needle got?

Hodge. By m' father's soul, and chad it, chould give him a new groat.

Diccon. Canst thou keep counsel in this case?

Hodge. Else chwold my tongue were out.

Diccon. Do thou[212] but then by my advice, and I will fetch it without doubt.

Hodge. Chill run, chill ride, chill dig, chill delve,

Chill toil, chill trudge, shalt see;

Chill hold, chill draw, chill pull, chill pinch,

Chill kneel on my bare knee;

Chill scrape, chill scratch, chill sift, chill seek,

Chill bow, chill bend, chill sweat,

Chill stoop, chill stour, chill cap, chill kneel,

Chill creep on hands and feet;

Chill be thy bondman, Diccon, ich swear by sun and moon,

And channot somewhat to stop this gap, cham utterly undone.

[Pointing behind to his torn breeches.

Diccon. Why, is there any special cause thou takest hereat such sorrow?

Hodge. Kirstian Clack, Tom Simson's maid, by the mass, comes hither to-morrow.

Cham not able to say between us what may hap,

She smiled on me the last Sunday, when ich put off my cap.

Diccon. Well, Hodge, this is a matter of weight, and must be kept close,

It might else turn to both our costs, as the world now goes.[213]

Shalt swear to be no blab, Hodge?

Hodge. Chill, Diccon.

Diccon. Then go to,

Lay thine hand here, say after me, as thou shalt hear me do.

Hast no book?

Hodge. Cha no book, I.

Diccon. Then needs must force us both,

Upon my breech to lay thine hand, and there to take thine oath.

Hodge. I, Hodge breechless,

Swear to Diccon rechless

By the cross that I shall kiss,

To keep his counsel close,

And always me to dispose

To work that his pleasure is. [Here he kisseth Diccon's breech.

Diccon. Now, Hodge, see thou take heed,

And do as I thee bid;

For so I judge it meet,

This needle again to win,

There is no shift therein,

But conjure up a spreet.

Hodge. What the great devil, Diccon, I say?

Diccon. Yea, in good faith, that is the way,

Fet[214] with some pretty charm.

Hodge. Soft, Diccon, be not too hasty yet,

By the mass, for ich begin to sweat,

Cham afraid of some[215] harm.

Diccon. Come hither then, and stir thee not

One inch out of this circle plat,

But stand, as I thee teach.

Hodge. And shall ich be here safe from their claws?

Diccon. The master-devil with his long paws

Here to thee cannot reach—

Now will I settle me to this gear.

Hodge. I say, Diccon, hear me, hear:

Go softly to this matter.

Diccon. What devil, man, art afraid of nought?

Hodge. Canst not tarry a little thought

Till ich make a courtesy of water?[216]

Diccon. Stand still to it, why shouldest thou fear him?

Hodge. Gog's sides, Diccon, me-think ich hear him,

And tarry, chall mar all.

Diccon. The matter is no worse than I told it.

Hodge. By the mass, cham able no longer to hold it:

So[217] bad, ich must beray the hall.

Diccon. Stand to it, Hodge, stir not, you whoreson.

What devil, be thine arse-strings brusten?

Thyself a while but stay,

The devil (I smell him) will be here anon.

Hodge. Hold him fast, Diccon, cham gone, cham gone,

Chill not be at that fray.

THE SECOND ACT.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Diccon, Chat.

Diccon. Fie, shitten knave, and out upon thee!

Above all other louts, fie on thee!

Is not here a cleanly prank?

But thy matter was no better,

Nor thy presence here no sweeter,

To fly I con[218] thee thank.[219]

Here is a matter worthy glosing[220]

Of Gammer Gurton's needle losing,

And a foul piece of wark:

A man, I think, might make a play

And need no word to this they say,

Being but half a clerk.

Soft, let me alone, I will take the charge

This matter further to enlarge

Within a time short;

If ye will mark my toys, and note,

I will give ye leave to cut my throat

If I make no good sport.

Dame Chat, I say, where be ye within?

Chat. Who have we there maketh such a din?

Diccon. Here is a good fellow maketh no great danger.

Chat. What, Diccon? come near, ye be no stranger:

We be fast set at trump,[221] man, hard by the fire;

Thou shalt set on the king, if thou come a little nigher.

Diccon. Nay, nay, there is no tarrying: I must be gone again;

But first for you in counsel[222] I have a word or twain.

Chat. Come hither, Doll; Doll, sit down and play this game,

And as thou sawest me do, see thou do even the same:

There is five trumps besides the queen, the hind-most thou shalt find her,

Take heed of Sim Glover's wife, she hath an eye behind her.

Now, Diccon, say your will.

Diccon. Nay, soft a little yet,

I would not tell my sister, the matter is so great,

There, I will have you swear by Our Dear Lady of Boulogne,[223]

Saint Dunstan and Saint Dominic, with the three Kings of Cologne,[224]

That ye shall keep it secret.

Chat. Gog's bread, that will I do,

As secret as mine own thought, by God and the devil too.[225]

Diccon. Here is Gammer Gurton, your neighbour, a sad and heavy wight,

Her goodly fair red cock at home was stole this last night.

Chat. Gog's soul! her cock with the yellow legs, that nightly crowded[226] so just?

Diccon. That cock is stolen.

Chat. What, was he fet out of the hen's roost?

Diccon. I cannot tell where the devil he was kept under key or lock,

But Tib hath tickled in Gammer's ear, that you should steal the cock.

Chat. Have I; strong whore! by bread and salt[227]—

Diccon. What, soft, I say, be still:

Say not one word for all this gear.

Chat. By the mass, that I will,

I will have the young whore by the head and the old trot by the throat.

Diccon. Not one word, dame Chat, I say, not one word for my coat.

Chat. Shall such a beggar's brawl[228] as that, thinkest thou, make me a thief?

The pox light on her whore's sides, a pestilence and mischief!

Come out, thou hungry needy bitch; O, that my nails be short!

Diccon. Gog's bread, woman, hold your peace, this gear will else pass sport;

I would not for an hundred pound this matter should be known

That I am author of this tale, or have abroad it blown.

Did ye not swear ye would be ruled, before the tale I told?

I said ye must all secret keep, and ye said sure ye would.

Chat. Would you suffer, yourself, Diccon, such a sort to revile you

With slanderous words to blot your name, and so to defile you?

Diccon. No, good wife Chat, I would be loth such drabs should blot my name;

But yet ye must so order all, that Diccon bear no blame.

Chat. Go to, then, what is your reed,[229] say on your mind, ye shall me rule herein.

Diccon. God-a-mercy, dame Chat, in faith thou must the gear begin:

It is twenty pound to a goose-turd my Gammer will not tarry.

But hitherward she comes as fast as her legs can carry,

To brawl with you about her cock, for well I heard Tib say,

The cock was roasted in your house to breakfast yesterday:

And when ye had the carcase eaten, the feathers ye outflung,

And Doll your maid the legs she hid a foot-deep in the dung.

Chat. O gracious God, my heart it bursts!

Diccon. Well, rule yourself a space.

And Gammer Gurton, when she cometh anon into this place,

Then to the quean let's see: tell her your mind, and spare not.

So shall Diccon blameless be; and then go to, I care not.

Chat. Then, whore, beware her throat, I can abide no longer:

In faith, old witch, it shall be seen which of us two be stronger;

And Diccon, but at your request I would not stay one hour.

Diccon. Well, keep it in, till she be here, and then out let it pour.

In the meanwhile get you in, and make no words of this;

More of this matter within this hour to hear you shall not miss.

Because I know you are my friend, hide it I could not doubtless:

Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your own business.

So fare ye well—

Chat. Nay, soft, Diccon, and drink: what, Doll, I say,

Bring here a cup of the best ale, let's see, come quickly away.

THE SECOND ACT.

THE THIRD SCENE.

Hodge, Diccon.

Diccon. Ye see, masters, that one end tapp'd of this my short device,

Now must we broach t'other too, before the smoke arise;

And by the time they have a while run,

I trust ye need not crave it,

But look what lieth in both their hearts, ye are like sure to have it.

Hodge. Yea, Gog's soul, art alive yet? what Diccon, dare ich come?

Diccon. A man is well hied to trust to thee, I will say nothing but mum.

But, and ye come any nearer, I pray you see all be sweet.

Hodge. Tush, man, is Gammer's nee'le found? that chould gladly weet.[230]

Diccon. She may thank thee it is not found, for if you had kept thy standing,

The devil he would have fet it out—ev'n, Hodge, at thy commanding.

Hodge. Gog's heart! and could he tell nothing where the nee'le might be found?

Diccon. Ye foolish dolt, ye were to seek, ere we had got our ground;

Therefore his tale so doubtful was, that I could not perceive it.

Hodge. Then ich see well something was said, chope one day yet to have it.

But Diccon, Diccon, did not the devil cry, ho, ho, ho?[231]

Diccon. If thou hadst tarried where thou stood'st, thou wouldst hove said so.

Hodge. Durst swear of a book, cheard him roar, straight after ich was gone;

But tell me, Diccon, what said the knave, let me hear it anon.

Diccon. The whoreson talked to me, I know not well of what:

One while his tongue it ran, and paltered[232] of a cat,

Another while he stammered still upon a rat;

Last of all there was nothing but every word, Chat, Chat;

But this I well perceived, before I would him rid,

Between Chat, and the rat, and the cat, the needle is hid:

Now whether Gib our cat hath eat it in her maw,

Or Doctor Rat our curate hath found it in the straw,

Or this dame Chat your neighbour hath stolen it, God he knoweth,

But by the morrow at this time we shall learn how the matter goeth.

Hodge. Canst not learn to-night, man, seest not what is here?

[Pointing behind to his torn breeches.

Diccon. 'Tis not possible to make it sooner appear.

Hodge. Allas, Diccon, then chave no shift; but lest ich tarry too long,

[Will] hie me to Sim Glover's shop, there to seek for thong,

Therewith this breech to thatch and tie, as ich may.

Diccon. To-morrow, Hodge, if we chance to meet, shall see what I will say.

THE SECOND ACT.

THE FOURTH SCENE.

Diccon, Gammer.

Diccon. Now this gear must forward go, for here my Gammer cometh:

Be still a while, and say nothing, make here a little romth.[233]

Gammer. Good lord! shall never be my luck my nee'le again to spy?

Alas the while, 'tis past my help; where 'tis, still it must lie.

Diccon. Now, Jesus, Gammer Gurton, what driveth you to this sadness?

I fear me, by my conscience, you will sure fall to madness.

Gammer. Who is that? what, Diccon? cham lost, man: fie, fie.

Diccon. Marry, fie on them that be worthy; but what should be your trouble?

Gammer. Alas, the more ich think on it, my sorrow it waxeth double.

My goodly tossing[234] Spurrier's nee'le[235] chave lost, ich wot not where.

Diccon. Your nee'le! when?

Gammer. My nee'le: alas! ich might full ill it spare,

As God himself he knoweth, ne'er one beside chave.

Diccon. If this be all, good Gammer, I warrant you all is safe.

Gammer. Why, know you any tidings which way my nee'le is gone?

Diccon. Yea, that I do, doubtless, as ye shall hear anon,

'A see a thing this matter toucheth within these twenty hours,

Even at this gate before my face, by a neighbour of yours;

She stooped me down, and up she took up a needle or a pin,

I durst be sworn it was even yours, by all my mother's kin.

Gammer. It was my nee'le, Diccon, ich wot; for here even by this post

Ich sat, what time as ich up start, and so my nee'le ich lost:

Who was it, leve son?[236] speak, ich pray thee, and quickly tell me that.

Diccon. A subtle quean as any in this town, your neighbour here, dame Chat.

Gammer. Dame Chat! Diccon, let me be gone: chill thither in post haste.

Diccon. Take my counsel yet, ere ye go, for fear ye walk in waste,

It is a murrain crafty drab, and froward to be pleased,

And ye take not the better way, your[237] needle yet ye lose:

For when she took it up, even here before your doors:

What, soft, dame Chat (quoth I), that same is none of yours.

Avaunt (quoth she), sir knave, what pratest thou of that I find?

I would thou hadst kiss'd me I wot where: (she meant I know behind)

And home she went as brag as it had been a body-louse,[238]

And I after her, as bold as it had been the goodman of the house:

But there, and ye had heard her, how she began to scold,

The tongue it went on patins, by him that Judas sold!

Each other word I was a knave, and you a whore of whores,

Because I spake in your behalf, and said the nee'le was yours.

Gammer. Gog's bread! and thinks the callet[239] thus to keep my nee'le me fro?

Diccon. Let her alone, and she minds none other, but even to dress you so.

Gammer. By the mass, chill rather spend the coat that is on my back.

Thinks the false quean by such a sleight,[240] that chill my nee'le lack?

Diccon. Slip not your gear,[241] I counsel you, but of this take good heed,

Let not be known, I told you of it, how well soever ye speed.

Gammer. Chill in, Diccon, and clean aporn to take, and set before me;

And ich may my nee'le once see, chill sure remember thee.

THE SECOND ACT.

THE FIFTH SCENE.

Diccon. Here will the sport begin, if these two once may meet,

Their cheer, durst lay money, will prove scarcely sweet.

My gammer sure intends to be upon her bones

With staves or with clubs, or else with cobble stones.[242]

Dame Chat on the other side, if she be far behind,

I am right far deceived, she is given to it of kind.[243]

He that may tarry by it a while, and that but short,

I warrant him trust to it, he shall see all the sport.

Into the town will I, my friends to visit there,

And hither straight again to see the end of this gear.

In the meantime, fellows, pipe up your fiddles: I say, take them,[244]

And let your friends hear such mirth as ye can make them.

THE THIRD ACT.

THE FIRST SCENE.

Hodge. Sim Glover, yet gramercy! cham meetly well-sped now,

Th 'art even as good a fellow as ever kiss'd a cow.

Here is a thong[245] indeed, by the mass, though ich speak it,

Tom Tankard's great bald curtal,[246] I think, could not break it.

And when he spied my need to be so straight and hard,

Hase lent me here his nawl to set the gib forward.[247]

As for my gammer's nee'le the flying fiend go wi' it,

Chill not now go to the door again with it to meet.

Chould make shift good enough, and chad a candle's end:

The chief hole in my breech with these two chill amend.

THE THIRD ACT.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Gammer, Hodge.

Gammer. How, Hodge! may'st now be glad, cha news to tell thee,

Ich know who hase my nee'le, ich trust soon shall it see.

Hodge. The devil thou does; hast heard, gammer, indeed, or dost but jest?

Gammer. Tis as true as steel, Hodge.

Hodge. Why, knowest well where didst lese it?

Gammer. Ich know who found it, and took it up: shalt see, ere it be long.

Hodge. God's mother dear, if that be true, farewell both nawl and thong!

But who hase it, gammer, say? one chould fain hear it disclosed.

Gammer. That false vixen, that same dame Chat, that counts herself so honest.

Hodge. Who told you so?

Gammer. That same did Diccon the bedlam, which saw it done.

Hodge. Diccon! it is a vengeable knave, gammer, 'tis a bonable[248] whoreson,

Can do mo things than that, els cham deceived evil:

By the mass, ich saw him of late call up a great black devil.

O, the knave cried ho, ho! he roared and he thundered,

And ye 'ad been here, cham sure you 'ld murrainly ha' wondered.

Gammer. Was not thou afraid, Hodge, to see him in this place?

Hodge. No, and chad come to me, chould have laid him on the face,

Chould have promised him.

Gammer. But, Hodge, had he no horns to push?

Hodge. As long as your two arms. Saw ye never Friar Rush

Painted on a cloth with a side-long cow's tail,

And crooked cloven feet, and many a hooked nail?

For all the world (if I should judge) chould reckon him his brother:

Look, even what face Friar Rush[249] had, the devil had such another.

Gammer. Now, Jesus mercy, Hodge, did Diccon in him bring?

Hodge. Nay, gammer (hear me speak), chill tell you a greater thing.

The devil, when Diccon bad him (ich heard him wondrous well)

Said plainly (here before us) that dame Chat had your nee'le.

Gammer. Then let us go, and ask her wherefore she minds to keep it;

Seeing we know so much, 'twere madness now to slip it.

Hodge. Go to her, gammer, see ye not where she stands in her doors?

Bid her give you the nee'le; 'tis none of hers, but yours.

THE THIRD ACT.

THE THIRD SCENE.

Gammer, Chat, Hodge.

Gammer. Dame Chat, ch' ould pray thee fair, let me have that is mine,

Chill not these twenty years take one fart that is thine;

Therefore give me mine own, and let me live beside thee—

Chat. Why art thou crept from home hither to mine own doors to chide me?

Hence, doating drab, avaunt, or I shall set thee further.

Intends thou and this knave me in my house to murther?

Gammer. Tush! gape not so on[250] me, woman: shalt not yet eat me,

Nor all the friends thou hast in this shall not entreat me;

Mine own goods I will have, and ask thee no[251] by'r leave:

What, woman, poor folks must have right, though the thing you aggrieve.

Chat. Give thee thy right, and hang thee up, with all thy beggar's brood!

What, wilt thou make me a thief, and say I stole thy good?

Gammer. Chill say nothing (ich warrant thee), but that ich can prove it well,

Thou fet my good even from my door, cham able this to tell.

Chat. Did I (old witch) steal ought was thine? how should that thing be known?

Gammer. Ich cannot tell, but up thou tookest it, as though it had been thine own.

Chat. Marry, fie on thee, thou old gib, with all my very heart.

Gammer. Nay, fie on thee, thou ramp,[252] thou rig,[253] with all that take thy part.

Chat. A vengeance on those lips that layeth such things to my charge.

Gammer. A vengeance on those callet's hips, whose conscience is so large.

Chat. Come out, hog.

Gammer. Come out, hog, and let have me right.

Chat. Thou arrant witch.

Gammer. Thou bawdy bitch, chill make thee curse this night.

Chat. A bag and a wallet![254]

Gammer. A cart for a callet!

Chat. Why, weenest[255] thou thus to prevail?

I hold thee a groat,

I shall patch thy coat.

Gammer. Thou wert as good kiss my tail;

Thou slut, thou cut,[256] thou rakes, thou jakes, will not shame make thee hide thee?[257]

Chat. Thou skald, thou bald, thou rotten,[258] thou glutton, I will no longer chide thee;

But I will teach thee to keep home.

Gammer. Wilt thou, drunken beast? [They fight.

Hodge. Stick to her, gammer, take her by the head, chill warrant you this feast.

Smite, I say, gammer,

Bite, I say, gammer;

I trow ye will be keen;

Where be your nails? claw her by the jaws, pull me out both her eyen.

Gog's bones, gammer, hold up your head.

Chat. I trow, drab, I shall dress thee.

Tarry, thou knave, I hold thee a groat, I shall make these hands bless thee.

[Gurton.] Take thou this, old whore, for amends, and learn thy tongue well to tame,

And say thou met at this bickering, not thy fellow,[259] but thy dame.

Hodge. Where is the strong stewed whore?[260] chill gi 'r a whore's mark.

Stand out one's way, that ich kill none in the dark.

Up, gammer, and ye be alive, chill fight[261] now for us both;

Come no near me, thou scald callet, to kill thee ich were loth.

Chat. Art here again, thou hoddypeke?[262] what, Doll, bring me out my spit.

Hodge. Chill broach thee with this, by m' father's soul, chill conjure that foul spreet.

Let door stand, Cock, why com'st indeed? keep door, thou whoreson boy.

Chat [to Doll.] Stand to it, thou dastard, for thine ears; ise teach the sluttish toy.

Hodge. Gog's wounds, whore, chill make thee avaunt,

Take heed, Cock, pull in the latch.

Chat. I' faith, sir loose-breech, had ye tarried, ye should have found your match.

Gammer. Now 'ware thy throat, losel,[263] thou'se pay for all.

Hodge. Well said, gammer, by my soul.

Hoise her, souse her, bounce her, trounce her, pull her throat-hole.

Chat. Com'st behind me, thou withered witch? and I get once on foot,

Thou'se pay for all, thou old tar-leather, I'll teach thee what longs to 't.

Take thee this to make up thy mouth, till time thou come by more.

Hodge. Up, gammer, stand on your feet, where is the old whore?

Faith, would chad her by the face, chould crack her callet crown.

Gammer. Ah, Hodge, Hodge, where was thy help, when th' vixen had me down!

Hodge. By the mass, Gammer, but for my staff, Chat had gone nigh to spill you.

Ich think the harlot had not cared, and chad not come, to kill you.

But shall we lose our nee'le thus?

Gammer. No, Hodge, ich were loth to do so.

Thinkest thou chill take that at her hand? no, Hodge, ich tell thee no.

Hodge. Chould yet this fray were well take up, and our own nee'le at home,

'Twill be my chance else some to kill, wherever it be or whom.

Gammer. We have a parson (Hodge, thou knows), a man esteemed wise,

Mast Doctor Rat, chill for him send, and let me hear his advice.

He will her shrive[264] for all this gear, and give her penance straight.

Wese have our nee'le, else dame Chat comes ne'er within heaven-gate.

Hodge. Yea marry, gammer, that ich think best: will you now for him send?

The sooner Doctor Rat be here, the sooner wese ha' an end.

And here, gammer, Diccon's devil (as ich remember well)

Of Cat and Chat, and Doctor Rat, a felonious tale did tell,

Chold you forty pound, that is the way your nee'le to get again.

Gammer. Chill ha' him straight; call out the boy, wese make him take the pain.

Hodge. What, Cock, I say, come out; what devil, can'st not hear?

Cock.[265] How now, Hodge, how does gammer? is yet the weather clear?

What would chave me to do?

Gammer. Come hither, Cock, anon.

Hence swith to Doctor Rat hie thee, that thou were gone,

And pray him come speak with me, cham not well at ease:

Shalt have him at his chamber, or else at Mother Bee's,

Else seek him at Hob Filcher's shop; for, as cheard it reported,

There is the best ale in all the town, and now is most resorted.

Cock. And shall ich bring him with me, gammer?

Gammer. Yea, by and by, good Cock.

Cock.[266] Shalt see that shall be here anon, else let me have on the dock.

Hodge. Now, gammer, shall we two go in, and tarry for his coming?

What devil, woman, pluck up your heart, and leave off all this glooming.[267]

Though she were stronger at the first, as ich think ye did find her.

Yet there ye dress'd the drunken sow, what time ye came behind her.[268]

Gammer. Nay, nay, cham sure she lost not all, for set them to the beginning,

And ich doubt not, but he will make small boast of her winning.

THE THIRD ACT.

THE FOURTH SCENE.

Tib, Hodge, Gammer, Cock.