A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 50

BOY. Put up, sir; and ye be a man, put up.

COOMES. I am easily persuaded, boy.

PHIL. Ah, ye mad slave!

COOMES. Come, come, a couple of wh.o.r.emasters I found ye, and so I leave ye.

[_Exit_.

PHIL. Lo, Frank, dost thou not see he's drunk, That twits thee[239] with thy disposition?

FRAN. What disposition?

PHIL. Nan Lawson, Nan Lawson.

FRAN. Nay, then--

PHIL. Go to, ye wag, 'tis well: If ever ye get a wife, i'faith I'll tell.

Sirrah, at home we have a servingman; He is[240] not humour'd bluntly as Coomes is, Yet his condition[241] makes me often merry: I'll tell thee, sirrah, he's a fine neat fellow, A spruce slave; I warrant ye, he will[242] have His cruel garters[243] cross about the knee, His woollen hose as white as th'driven snow, His shoes dry-leather neat, and tied with red ribbons, A nosegay bound with laces in his hat-- Bridelaces, sir--and his hat all green[244], Green coverlet for such a gra.s.s-green wit.

"The goose that grazeth on the green," quoth he, "May I eat on, when you shall buried be!"

All proverbs is his speech, he's proverbs all.

FRAN. Why speaks he proverbs?

PHIL. Because he would speak truth, And proverbs, you'll confess, are old-said sooth.

FRAN. I like this well, and one day I will see him: But shall we part?

PHIL. Not yet, I'll bring ye somewhat on your way, And as we go, between your boy and you I'll know where that brave prancer stands at livery.

FRAN. Come, come, you shall not.

PHIL. I'faith, I will.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ MASTER BARNES _and his Wife_.

MR BAR. Wife, in my mind to-day you were to blame, Although my patience did not blame ye for it: Methought the rules of love and neighbourhood Did not direct your thoughts; all indiscreet[245]

Were your proceedings in the entertain Of them that I invited to my house.

Nay, stay, I do not chide, but counsel, wife, And in the mildest manner that I may: You need not view me with a servant's eye, Whose va.s.sal[246] senses tremble at the look Of his displeased master. O my wife, You are myself! when self sees fault in self, Self is sin-obstinate, if self amend not: Indeed, I saw a fault in thee myself, And it hath set a foil upon thy fame, Not as the foil doth grace the diamond.

MRS BAR. What fault, sir, did you see in me to-day?

MR BAR. O, do not set the organ of thy voice On such a grunting key of discontent!

Do not deform the beauty of thy tongue With such misshapen answers. Rough wrathful words Are b.a.s.t.a.r.ds got by rashness in the thoughts: Fair demeanours are virtue's nuptial babes, The offspring of the well-instructed soul; O, let them call thee mother, then, my wife!

So seem not barren of good courtesy.

MRS BAR. So; have ye done?

MR BAR. Ay, and I had done well, If you would do what I advise for well.

MRS BAR. What's that?

MR BAR. Which is, that you would be good friends With Mistress Goursey.

MRS BAR. With Mistress Goursey!

MR BAR. Ay, sweet wife.

MRS BAR. Not so, sweet husband.

MR BAR. Could you but show me any grounded cause.

MRS BAR. The grounded cause I ground, because I will not.

MR BAR. Your will hath little reason, then, I think.

MRS BAR. Yes, sir, my reason equalleth my will.

MR BAR. Let's hear your reason, for your will is great.

MRS BAR. Why, for I will not.

MR BAR. Is all your reason "for I will not," wife?

Now, by my soul, I held ye for more wise, Discreet, and of more temp'rature in sense, Than in a sullen humour to affect That woman's[247] will--borne, common, scholar phrase: Oft have I heard a timely-married girl, That newly left to call her mother mam, Her father dad: but yesterday come from "That's my good girl, G.o.d send thee a good husband!"

And now being taught to speak the name of husband, Will, when she would be wanton in her will, If her husband ask'd her why, say "for I will."

Have I chid men for[248] [an] unmanly choice, That would not fit their years? have I seen thee Pupil such green young things, and with thy counsel Tutor their wits? and art thou now infected With this disease of imperfection?

I blush for thee, ashamed at thy shame.

MRS BAR. A shame on her that makes thee rate me so!

MR BAR. O black-mouth'd rage, thy breath is boisterous, And thou mak'st virtue shake at this high storm!

She is[249] of good report; I know thou know'st it.

MRS BAR. She is not, nor I know not, but I know That thou dost love her, therefore think'st her so; Thou bear'st with her, because she bears with thee.

Thou may'st be ashamed to stand in her defence: She is a strumpet, and thou art no honest man To stand in her defence against thy wife.

If I catch her in my walk, now, by c.o.c.k's[250] bones, I'll scratch out both her eyes.

MR BAR. O G.o.d!

MRS BAR. Nay, never say "O G.o.d" for the matter: Thou art the cause; thou bad'st her to my house, Only to blear the eyes of Goursey, did'st not?

But I will send him word, I warrant thee, And ere I sleep too, trust upon it, sir.

[_Exit_.

MR BAR. Methinks this is a mighty fault in her; I could be angry with her: O, if I be so, I shall but put a link unto a torch, And so give greater light to see her fault.

I'll rather smother it in melancholy: Nay, wisdom bids me shun that pa.s.sion; Then I will study for a remedy.

I have a daughter,--now, heaven invocate, She be not of like spirit as her mother!

If so, she'll be a plague unto her husband, If that he be not patient and discreet, For that I hold the ease of all such trouble.