The knight of the burning pestle

Actus primi, (Book 1)

Scoena prima. (Book 1)

Enter Marchant, and Iasper his Prentice.

March.

Sirrah, Il'e make you know you are my Prentice, And whom my charitable loue redeem'd Euen from the fall of fortune, gaue thee heate

And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee, Adding the trust of all I haue at home, In forren Staples, or vpon the Sea To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions Both of my selfe and friends to thy endeauours, So faire were thy beginnings, but with these, As I remember, you had neuer charge, To loue your Maisters daughter, and euen then, When I had found a wealthy husband for her, I take it, sir, you had not; but how euer, I'le breake the necke of that commission, And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor.

Iasp.

Sir, I do liberally confesse I am yours, Bound, both by loue and duty, to your seruice; In which, my labour hath bene all my profit; I haue not lost in bargaine, nor delighted To weare your honest gaines vpon my backe, Nor haue I giuen a pencion to my bloud, Or lauishly in play consum'd your stocke. These, and the miseries that do attend them, I dare, with innocence, proclaime are strangers To all my temperate actions; for your daughter, If there be any loue, to my deseruings, Borne by her vertuous selfe, I cannot stop it? Nor, am I able to refraine her wishes. She's priuate to her selfe and best of knowledge, Whom she'le make so happy as to sigh for. Besides, I cannot thinke you meane to match her, Vnto a felow of so lame a presence, One that hath little left of Nature in him.

Mar.

'Tis very well sir, I can tell your wisedome How all this shall bee cur'd.

Iasp.

Your care becomes you.

March.

And thus it must be sir, I heere discharge you My house and seruice, take your liberty, And when I want a sonne I'le send for you.

Exit:

Iasp.

These be the faire rewards of them that loue. O you that liue in freedome neuer proue

The trauell of a mind led by desire.

Enter Luce.

Luce.

Why, how now friend, struck with my fathers thun∣der?

Iasp.

Strucke and strucke dead vnlesse the remedy Be full of speede and vertue; I am now, What I expected long, no more your fathers.

Luce.

But mine.

Iasp.

But yours, and onely yours I am, That's all I haue to keepe mee from the Statute, You dare be constant still.

Luce.

O feare me not, In this I dare be better then a woman. Nor shall his anger, nor his offers moue me, Were they both equall to a Princes power.

Iasp.

You know my riuall?

Luce.

Yes and loue him deerly Euen as I loue an ague, or foule weather, I prethee Iasper feare him not.

Iasp.

O no, I do not meane to do him so much kindnesse, But to our owne desires, you know the plot We both agreed on.

Luce.

Yes, and will performe My part exactly.

Iasp.

I desire no more, Fare-well, and keepe my heart, 'tis yours.

Luce.

I take it, He must do miracles makes me forsake it.

Exeunt.

Cittiz.

Fye vpon am little infidels, what a matters here now? well, I'le be hang'd for a halfe-penny, if there be not some abomination knauery in this Play, well, let'em looke toot, Rafe must come, and if there be any tricks a brewing,—

Wife.

Let'em brew and bake too husband, a Gods name, Rafe will find all out I warrant you, and they were older then they are, I pray my pretty youth is Rafe ready.

Boy.

He will be presently.

Wife.

Now I pray you make my commendations vnto him, and withall carry him this sticke of Licoras, tell him his Mistresse sent it him, and bid him bite a peece, 'twill open his pipes the better, say.

Enter Marchant, and Maister Humfery.

Mar.

Come sir, shee's yours, vpon my faith she's yours You haue my hand, for other idle lets Betweene your hopes and her, thus, with a wind They are scattered and no more: my wanton Prentice,

That like a bladder, blew himselfe with loue, I haue let out, and sent him to discouer New Maisters yet vnknowne.

Humf.

I thanke you sir, Indeed I thanke you sir, and ere I stir It shall bee knowne, how euer you do deeme, I am of gentle bloud and gentle seeme.

March.

O sir, I know it certaine.

Humf.

Sir my friend, Although, as Writers say, all things haue end, And that we call a pudding, hath his two O let it not seeme strange I pray to you, If in this bloudy simile, I put My loue, more endlesse, then fraile things or gut.

Wife.

Husband, I prethee sweete lambe tell me one thing, But tell mee truely: stay youths I beseech you, till I question my husband.

Citiz.

What is it mouse?

Wife.

Sirrah, didst thou euer see a prettier child? how it behaues it selfe, I warrant yee, and speakes, and lookes, and pearts vp the head? I pray you brother, with your fauor, were you neuer none of M. Monkesters schollars?

Cit.

Chicken, I prethee heartely containe thy selfe, the childer are pretty childer, but when Rafe comes, Lambe.

Wife.

I when Rafe comes conny; well my youth, you may proceed

Mar.

Wel sir, you know my loue, and rest, I hope, Assur'd of my consent, get but my daughters, And wed her when you please; you must be bold, And clap in close vnto her, come, I know You haue language good enough to win a wench.

Wife.

A whoreson tyrant has ben an old stringer in's daies I warrant him.

Humf.

I take your gentle offer and withall Yeeld loue againe for loue reciprocall.

Enter Luce.

Mar.

What Luce within there.

Lu.

Cal'd you sir?

Mar.

I did. Giue entertainement to this Gentleman And see you bee not froward: to her sir, My presence will but bee an eye-soare to you.

Exit.

Humf.

Faire Mistresse Luce, how do you, are you well? Giue me your hand and then I pray you tell, How doth your little sister, and your brother?

And whether you loue me or any other.

Luce.

Sir, these are quickely answered.

Humf.

So they are. Where women are not cruel: but how farre Is it now distant from this place we are in, Vnto that blessed place your fathers warren.

Luce.

What makes you thinke of that sir?

Humf.

Euen that face For stealing Rabbets whilome in that place, God Cupid, or the Keeper, I know not whether Vnto my cost and charges brought you thither, And there began.

Luce.

Your game sir.

Humf.

Let no game, Or any thing that tendeth to the same. Bee euermore remembred, thou faire killer For whom I sate me downe and brake my Tiller.

Wife.

There's a kind Gentleman, I warrant you, when will you do as much for me George?

Luce.

Beshrew me sir, I am sorry for your losses, But as the prouerbe saies, I cannot cry, I would you had not seene me.

Humf.

So would I. Vnlesse you had more maw to do me good.

Luce.

Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood, Send for a Constable and raise the Towne.

Humf.

O no, my valiant loue will batter downe Millions of Constables, and put to flight, Euen that great watch of Mid-summer day at night.

Luce.

Beshrew me sir, 'twere good I yeelded then, Weake women cannot hope, where valiant men Haue no resistance.

Humf.

Yeeld then, I am full Of pitty, though I say it, and can pull Out of my pocket, thus, a paire of gloues, Looke Lucy, looke, the dogs tooth, nor the Doues Are not so white as these; and sweete they bee, And whipt about with silke, as you may see. If you desire the price, sute from your eie, A beame to this place, and you shall espie F. S. which is to say, my sweetest hony, They cost me three and two pence, or no mony.

Luce.

Well sir, I take them kindly, and I thanke you, What would you more?

Hum.

Nothing.

Luce.

Why then fare-well.

Humf.

Nor so, nor so, for Lady I must tell, Before we part, for what we met together, God grant me time, and patience, and faire weather.

Luce.

Speake and declare your minde in termes so briefe.

Humf.

I shall, then first and formost for reliefe I call to you, I if that you can affoord it, I care not at what price, for on my word, it Shall be repaid againe, although it cost me More then I'le speake of now, for loue hath tost me, In furious blanket like a Tennis ball, And now I rise aloft, and now I fall.

Luce.

Alas good Gentleman, alas the day.

Humf.

I thanke you hartely, and as I say, Thus do I still continue without rest, I'th' morning like a man, at night a beast, Roaring and bellowing myne owne disquiet, That much I feare, forsaking of my diet, Will bring me presently to that quandary, I shall bid all adeiw:

Luce.

Now by S. Mary That were great pitty.

Hum.

So it were beshrew me, Then ease me lusty Luce, and pitty shew me.

Luce.

Why sir, you know my will is nothing worth Without my fathers grant, get his consent, And then you may with assurance try me.

Humf.

The Worshipfull your sire will not deny me. For I haue askt him, and he hath repli'd, Sweete Maister Humfrey, Luce shall be thy Bride.

Luce.

Sweete Maister Humfrey then I am content.

Humf.

And so am I intruth.

Luce.

Yet take me with you, There is another clause must be annext, And this it is, I swore and will performe it; No man shall euer ioy me as his wife But he that stole me hence, if you dare venter I am yours; you need not feare, my father loues you, If not farewell for euer.

Humf.

Stay Nimph, staie,

I haue a double Gelding culored bay, Sprung by his father from Barbarian kind, Another for my selfe, though somewhat blind, Yet true as trusty tree.

Luce.

I am satisfied, And so I giue my hand, our course must lie Through Waltham Forrest, where I haue a friend Will entertaine vs, so fare-well sir Humfrey,

Exit Luce.

And thinke vpon your businesse.

Humf.

Though I die, I am resolu'd to venter life and lim, For one so yong, so faire, so kind, so trim.

Exit Humfrey.

Wife.

By my faith and troth George, and as I am vertu∣ous, it is e'ne the kindest yong man that euer trod on shooe leather, well, go thy waies if thou hast her not, 'tis not thy fault 'faith.

Cit.

I prethee mouse be patient, a shall haue her, or i'le make some'em smoake for't.

Wife.

That's my good lambe George, fie, this stinking Tobacco kils men, would there were none in England, now I pray Gentlemen, what good does this stinking Tobacco? do you nothing, I warrant you make chimnies a your faces: o husband, husband, now, now, there's Rafe, there's Rafe.

Enter Rafe like a Grocerin's shop, with two Prentices Reading Palmerin of England.

Cit.

Peace foole, let Rafe alone, harke you Rafe; doe not straine your selfe too much at the first, peace, begin Rafe.

Rafe.

Then Palmerin and Trineus snatching their Launces from their Dwarses, and clasping their Helmets gallopt a∣maine after the Gyant, and Palmerin hauing gotten a sight of him, came posting amaine, saying: Stay trayterous thiefe, for thou maist not so carry away her, that is worth the greatest Lord in the world, and with these words gaue him a blow on the shoulder, that he stroake him besides his Elephant, and Trineus comming to the Knight that had Agricola behind him, set him soone besides his horse, with his necke broken in the fall, so that the Princesse getting out of the thronge, betweene ioy and griefe said; all happy Knight, the mirrout of all such as follow Armes, now may I bee well assured of

the loue thou bearest me, I wonder why the Kings doe not raise an army of foureteene or fifteene hundred thousand men, as big as the Army that the Prince of Portigo brought against Rocicler, & destroy these Giants, they do much hurt to wandring Damsels, that go in quest of their Knights.

Wife.

Faith husband and Rafe saies true, for they say the King of Portugall cannot sit at his meate, but the Giants & the Ettins will come and snatch it from him,

Cit.

Hold thy tongue, on Rafe.

Rafe.

And certainely those Knights are much to be com∣mended, who neglecting their possessions, wander with a Squire and a Dwarfe through the Desarts to relieue poore Ladies.

VVife.

I by my faith are they Rafe, let 'em say what they will, they are indeed, our Knights neglect their possessions well enough, but they do not the rest.

Rafe.

There are no such courteous and faire well spoken Knights in this age, they will call one the sonne of a whore, that Palmerin of England, would haue called faire sir; and one that Rosicler would haue cal'd right beauteous Damsell, they will call dam'd bitch.

VVife.

I'le besworne will they Rafe, they haue cal'd mee so an hundred times about a scuruy pipe of Tobacco.

Rafe.

But what braue spirit could be content to sit in his shop with a flappet of wood and a blew apron before him selling Methridatum and Dragons water to visited houses, that might pursue feats of Armes, & through his noble atchieu∣ments procure such a famous history to be written of his heroicke prowesse.

Cit.

Well said Rafe, some more of those words Rafe.

VVife.

They go finely by my troth.

Rafe.

Why should not I then pursue this course, both for the credit of my selfe and our Company, for amongst all the worthy bookes of Atchieuements I doe not call to minde that I yet read of a Grocer Errant, I will be the said Knight, haue you heard of any, that hath wandred vnfurnished of his Squire and Dwarfe, my elder Prentice

Tim shall be my trusty Squire, and little George my Dwarfe, Hence my blew Aporne, yet in remembrance of my former Trade, vpon my shiled shall be purtraide, a burning Pestle, and I will be cal'd the Knight oth burning Pestle.

Wife.

Nay, I dare sweare thou wilt not forget thy old Trade, thou wert euer meeke.

Rafe. Tim.

Tim.

Anon.

Rafe.

My beloued Squire, & George my Dwarfe, I charge you that from hence-forth you neuer call me by any other name, but the Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the bur∣ning Pestle, and that you neuer call any female by the name of a woman or wench, but faire Ladie, if she haue her desires, if not distressed Damsell, that you call all Forrests & Heaths Desarts, and all horses Palfries.

Wife.

This is very fine, faith, do the Gentlemen like Rafe, thinke you, husband?

Cittiz.

I, I warrant thee, the Plaiers would giue all the shooes in their shop for him.

Rafe.

My beloued Squire Tim, stand out, admit this were a Desart, and ouer it a Knight errant pricking, and I should bid you inquire of his intents, what would you say?

Tim.

Sir, my Maister sent me, to know whether your are riding?

Rafe.

No, thus; faire sir, the Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, commanded me to enquire, vpon what aduenture your are bound, whether to relieue some di∣stressed Damsels, or otherwise.

Cit.

Whoresome blocke-head cannot remember.

Wife.

I'faith, & Rafe told him on't before, all the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did not Rafe tel him on't?

George.

Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsell, to haue a halfe penny-worth of pepper.

Wife.

That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it, by my troth it's a fine child.

Rafe.

Relieue her with all courteous language, now shut vp shoppe, no more my Prentice, but my trusty

Squire and Dwarfe, I must be speake my shield and arming-pestle.

Cit.

Go thy waies Rafe, as Im'e a true man, thou art the best on 'em all.

Wife.

Rafe, Rafe.

Rafe.

What say you mistresse?

Wife.

I pre'thee come againe quickly sweet Rafe.

Rafe.

By and by.

Exit Rafe.

Enter Iasper, and his mother mistresse Merri-thought.

Mist. merri.

Giue thee my blessing? No, Il'e ner'e giue thee my blessing, Il'e see thee hang'd first; it shall ner'e bee said I gaue thee my blessing, th'art thy fathers owne sonne, of the right bloud of the Merri-thoughts, I may curse the time that er'e I knew thy father, he hath spent all his owne, and mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughes and dan∣ces, and sings, and cryes, A merry heart liues long-a. And thou art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy maister, that lou'd thee well, and art come to me, and I haue laid vp a little for my yonger sonne Michael, and thou think'st to be∣zell that, but thou shalt neuer be able to do it. Come hither Michael, come Michael, downe on thy knees, thou shalt haue my blessing.

Enter Michael.

Mich.

I pray you mother pray to God to blesse me.

Mist. merri.

God blesse thee: but Iasper shal neuer haue my blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall hee not Michael? how saist thou?

Mich.

Yes forsooth mother and grace of God.

Mist. merri.

That's a good boy.

Wife.

I faith it's a fine spoken child.

Iasp.

Mother, though you forget a parents loue, I must preserue the duty of a child. I ran not from my maister, nor returne To haue your stocke maintaine my Idlenesse.

Wife.

Vngracious childe I warrant him, harke how hee chops logicke with his mother: thou hadst best tell her she lyes, do tell her she lyes.

Cit.

If hee were my sonne, I would hang him vp by the

heeles, and flea him, and salt him, whoore-sonne halter∣sacke.

Iasp.

My comming onely is to begge your loue, Which I must euer, though I neuer gaine it, And howsoeuer you esteeme of me, There is no drop of bloud hid in these veines, But I remember well belongs to you That brought me forth, and would be glad for you To rip them all againe, and let it out.

Mist. merri.

I faith I had sorrow enough for thee (God knowes) but Il'e hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learne of thy brother Mi∣chael.

Old merri. within.

Nose, nose, iolly red nose, and who gaue thee this iolly red nose?

Mist. merri.

Harke, my husband hee's singing and hoiting, And Im'e faine to carke and care, and all little enough. Husband, Charles, Charles Merithought.

Enter old Merithought.

Old merri.

Nutmegs and Ginger, Cinnamon and Cloues, And they gaue me this iolly red Nose.

Mist. merri.

If you would consider your state, you would haue little lust to sing, I-wisse.

Old merri.

It should neuer bee considered while it were an estate, if I thought it would spoyle my singing.

Mist. merri.

But how wilt thou do Charles, thou art an old man, and thou canst not worke, and thou hast not fortie shil∣lings left, and thou eatest good meat, and drinkest good drinke, and laughest?

Old merri.

And will do.

Mist. merri.

But how wilt thou'come by it Charles?

Old merri.

How? why how haue I done hitherto this forty yeares? I neuer came into my dining roome, but at eleuen & six a clocke, I found excellent meat and drinke a'th table, my clothes were neuer worne out, but next morning a Taylor brought me a new suit; and without question it will be so e∣uer: vse makes perfectnesse. If all should faile, it is but a little

straining my selfe extraordinary, & laugh my selfe to death.

Wife.

It's a foolish old man this: is not he George?

Cit.

Yes Cunny.

Wife.

Giue me a peny i'th purse while I liue George.

Cit.

I by Ladie cunnie, hold thee there.

Mist. merri.

Well Charles, you promis'd to prouide for Ias∣per, and I haue laid vp for Michael, I pray you pay Iasper his portion, hee's come home, and hee shall not consume Mi∣chaels stocke: he saies his maister turnd him away, but I pro∣mise you truly, I thinke he ran away.

Wife.

No indeed mistresse Merrithought, though he bee a notable gallowes, yet Il'e assure you his maister did turne him away, euen in this place 'twas I'faith within this halfe houre, about his daughter, my husband was by.

Cit.

Hang him rougue, he seru'd him well enough: loue his maisters daughter! by my troth Cunnie if there were a thousand boies, thou wouldst spoile them all with taking their parts, let his mother alone with him.

Wife.

I George, but yet truth is truth.

Old merri.

Where is Iasper, hee's welcome how euer, call him in, hee shall haue his portion, is he merry?

Enter Iasper and Michael.

Mist. merri.

I foule chiue him, he is too merrie. Iasper, Michael.

Old merri.

Welcome Iasper, though thou runst away, welcome, God blesse thee: 'tis thy mothers minde thou should'st receiue thy portion; thou hast beene abroad, and I hope hast learn'd experience enough to gouerne it, thou art of sufficient yeares, hold thy hand: one, two, three, foure, fiue, sixe, seuen, eight, nine, there's ten shillings for thee, thrust thy selfe into the world with that, and take some setled course, if fortune crosse thee, thou hast a retiring place, come home to me, I haue twentie shillings left, bee a good husband, that is, weare ordinary clothes, eate the best meate, and drinke the best drinke, bee merrie, and giue to the poore, and beleeue me, thou hast no end of thy goods.

Iasp.

Long may you liue free from all thought of ill, And long haue cause to be thus merry still. But father?

Old merri.

No more words Iasper, get thee gone, thou hast my blessing, thy fathers spirit vpon thee. Farewell Ias∣per, but yet or ere you part (oh cruell!) kisse me, kisse me sweeting, mine owne deere iewell: So, now begone; no words.

Exit Iasper.

Mis. mer.

So Michael, now get thee gone too.

Mich.

Yes forsooth mother, but Il'e haue my fathers bles∣sing first.

Mis. mer.

No Michael, 'tis now matter for his blessing, thou hast my blessing, begone; Il'e fetch my money & iew∣els, and follow thee: Il'e stay no longer with him I warrant thee, truly Charles Il'e begone too.

Old merri.

What you will not.

Mis. merri.

Yes indeed will I.

Old merri.

Hey ho, fare-well Nan, Il'e neuer trust wench more againe, if I can.

Mis. merri.

You shall not thinke (when all your owne is gone) to spend that I haue beene scraping vp for Mi∣chael.

Old merri.

Farewell good wife, I expect it not; all I haue to doe in this world, is to bee merry: which I shall, if the ground be not taken from me: and if it be,

When earth and seas from me are rest, The skyes aloft for me are left.

Exeunt.

Boy danceth. Musicke. Finis Actus primi.

Wife.

Il'e be sworne hee's a merry old Gentleman for all that. Harke, harke husband, harke, fiddles, fiddles; now sure∣ly they go finely. They say, 'tis present death for these fidlers to tune their Rebeckes before the great Turkes grace, is't not George? But looke, looke, here's a youth dances: now good youth do a turnea'th toe, sweet heart, I'faith Ile haue Rafe come and do some of his Gambols; hee'l ride the wild mare Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see him. I thanke you kinde youth, pray bid Rafe come.

Cit.

Peace Cunnie. Sirrah, you scuruie boy, bid the plai∣ers send Rafe, or by Gods—and they do not, Il'e teare some of their periwigs beside their heads: this is all Riffe Raffe.