Comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and Iohn Fletcher ...

Actus Secundus

Scaena Prima.

Enter Higgen, Ferret, Prig, Clause, Jaculine, Snap, Gynkes, and other Beggars.

Hig.

COme Princes of the ragged regiment, You 'o the blood, Prig my most upright Lord, And these (what name or title, e're they beare) Jarkman, or Patrico, Cranke, or Clapperdudgeon. Frater, or Abram-man; I speake to all That stand in faire Election for the title Of King of Beggars, with the command adjoyning, Higgen, your Orator, in this Inter-regnum, That whilom was your Dommerer, doth beseech you All to stand faire, and put your selves in ranke, That the first Commer, may at his first view Make a free choise, to say up the question.

Fer. Pr.

'Tis done Lord Higgen.

Hig.

Thankes to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret.

Fer.

Well, pray my Masters all, Ferret be chosen Ye'ar like to have a mercifull mild Prince of me.

Prig.

A very tyrant, I, an arrant tyrant. If e're I come to reigne; therefore looke to't, Except you do provide me hum enough And Lour to bouze with: I must have my Capons And Turkeys brought me in, with my green Geese, And Ducklings i'th season: fine fat chickens, Or if you chance where an eye of tame Phesants Or Partridges are kept, see they be mine, Or straight I seize on all your priviledge, Places, revenues, offices, as forfeit, Call in your crutches, wooden legs, false bellyes, Forc'd eyes and teeth, with your dead arms; not leave you A durty clout to beg with o' your heads, Or an old rag with Butter, Frankinsence, Brimstone and Rozen, birdlime, blood, and creame, To make you an old sore; not so much sope As you may fome with i'th Falling-sicknesse; The very bag you beare, and the brown dish Shall be escheated. All your daintiest dells too I will deflowr, and take your dearest Doxyes From your warme sides; and then some one cold night I'le watch you what olde barne you goe to roost in, And there I'le smoother you all i'th musty hay.

Hig.

This is tyrant-like indeed: But what would Ginkes Or Clause be here, if either of them should raigne?

Ger.

Best aske an asse, if he were made a Camell, What he would be; or a dog, and he were a Lyon.

Ginks.

I care not what you are, Sirs, I shall be A Begger, still, I am sure, find my selfe there.

Enter Florez.

Snap.

O here a Judge comes.

Hig.

Cry, a Judge, a Judge.

Flo.

What aile you Sirs? what means this out cry?

Hig.

Master A sort of poor soules met: Gods fools, good Master, Have had some little variance amongst our selves Who should be honestest of us; and which lives Uprightest in his call: Now, 'cause we thought We ne're should gree on't our selves, because Indeed 'tis hard to say: we all dissolv'd, to put it To whom that should come next, and that's your Mastership, Who, I hope, will termine it as your mind serves you, Right, and no otherwise we aske it: which? Which does your Worship thinke is he? sweet Master Looke over us all, and tell us; we are seven of us, Like to the seven wise Masters, or the Planets.

Flo.

I should judge this the man with the grave beard, And if he be not—

Ger.

Blesse you, good Master, blesse you.

Flo.

I would he were: there's something too, amongst you To keep you all honest.

Exit

Snap.

King of heaven goe with you.

Omn.

Now good reward him, May he never want it, to comfort still the poor, in a good houre.

Fer.

What is 't? see: Snap ha's got it.

Snap.

A good crown, marry:

Prig.

A crown of gold.

Fer.

For our new King: good luck.

Ginks.

To the common treasury with it; if 't be gold, Thither it must.

Prig.

Spoke like a Patriot, Ferret— King Clause. I bid God save thee first, first, Clause, After this golden token of a crowne; Wher's Oratour Higgen with his gratuling speech now, In all our names?

Fer.

Here he is pumping for it.

Gin.

H' has cough'd the second time, 'tis but once more And then it comes.

Fer.

So, out with all: expect now—

Hig.

That thou art chosen, venerable Clause, Our King and Soveraign; Monarch o'th Maunders. Thus we throw up our Nab-cheats, first for joy, And then our filches; last, we clap our fambles, Three subject signes, we do it without envy: For who is he here did not wish thee chosen Now thou art chosen? aske 'em: all will say so, Nay swear't: 'tis for the King, but let that passe; When last in conference at the bouzing ken This other day we sate about our dead Prince Of famous memory: (rest, goe with his rags:) And that I saw thee at the tables end, Rise mov'd, and gravely leaning on one Crutch, Lift the other like a Scepter at my head, I then presag'd thou shortly wouldst be King And now thou art so: but what need presage, To us, that might have read it, in thy beard, As well, as he that chose thee? by that beard Thou wert found out, and mark'd for Soveraignty. O happy beard! but happier Prince, whose beard, Was so remark'd, as marked out our Prince, Not bating us a haire. Long may it grow, And thick, and faire, that who lives under it, May live as safe, as under Beggars Bush, Of which this is the thing, that but the type.

Om.

Excellent, excellent oratour, forward good Higgen Give him leave to spit: the fine, well-spoken Higgen.

Hig.

This is the beard, the bush, or bushy-beard, Under whose gold and silver raigne 'twas said So many ages since, we all should smile On impositions, taxes, grievances, Knots in a State, and whips unto a Subject, Lye lurking in this Beard, but all hem'd out: If now, the Beard be such, what is the Prince That owes the Beard? a Father; no, a Grandfather; Nay the great Grand-father of you his people. He will not force away your hens, your bacon, When you have ventur'd hard for't, nor take from you The fattest of your puddings: under him Each man shall eate his own stolne eggs, and butter, In his owne shade, or sun-shine, and enjoy His owne deare Dell, Doxy, or Mort, at night In his own straw, with his owne shirt, or sheet, That he hath filch'd that day, I, and possesse What he can purchase, backe, or belly-cheats To his own prop: he will have no purveyers For Pigs, and poultry.

Ger.

That we must have, my learned Oratour, It is our will, and every man to keep In his own path and circuite.

Hig.

Do you heare? You must hereafter maund on your own pads he saies.

Ger.

And what they get there, is their owne, besides To give good words.

Hig.

Do you marke? to cut bene whids, That is the second Law.

Ger.

And keepe a-foote The humble, and the common phrase of begging, Lest men discover us.

Hig.

Yes; and cry sometimes, To move compassion: Sir, there is a table, That doth command all these things, and enjoyns 'em; Be perfect in their crutches: their fain'd plaisters, And their true pas-ports, with the ways to stammer, And to be dumb, and deafe, and blind, and lame, There, all the halting paces are set downe, I'th learned language.

Ger.

Thither I refer them, Those, you at leisure shall interpret to them, We love no heapes of lawes, where few will serve.

Om.

O gracious Prince, 'save, 'save the good K. Clause.

Hig.

A Song to crowne him.

Fer.

Set a Centinell out first.

Sn.

The word?

Hig.

A Cove comes, and fumbumbis to it.—

Strike.

The SONG.

CAst our Caps and cares away: this is Beggars Holli-day, At the Crowning of our King, thus we ever dance & sing. In the world looke out and see: where so happy a Prince as he? Where the Nation live so free, and so merry as do we? Be it peace, or be it war, here at liberty we are, And enjoy our ease and rest; To the field we are not prest; Nor are called into the Towne, to be troubled with the Gowne. Hang all Offices we cry, and the Magistrate too, by; When the Subsidies encreast, we are not a penny ceast. Nor will any goe to law, with the Beggar for a straw. All which happinesse he brags, he doth owe unto his rags.

Enter Snap, Hubert, and Hemskirke.

Snap.

A Cove: Fumbumbis.

Prig.

To your postures; arme:

Hub.

Yonder's the Towne: I see it.

Hemsk.

Ther's our danger Indeed afore us, if our shadows save not.

Hig.

Blesse your good Worships:

Fer.

One small piece of money.

Prig.

Amongst us all poore wretches:

Ger.

Blinde, and lame,

Ginks.

For his sake that gives all.

Hig.

Pittifull Worships;

Snap.

One little doyt.

Enter Jaculine.

Jac.

King, by your leave, where are you?

Ger.

To buy a litle bread,

Hig.

To feed so many Mouths, as will ever pray for you.

Prig.

Here be seven of us.

Hig.

Seven, good Master, ô remember seven, Seven blessings.

Fer.

Remember, gentle Worship.

Hig.

'Gainst seven deadly sins,

Prig.

And seven sleepers.

Hig.

If they be hard of heart, and will give nothing— Alas, we had not a charity this three dayes.

Hub.

Ther's amongst you all?

Fer.

Heaven reward you.

Prig.

Lord, reward you?

Hig.

The Prince of pitty blesse thee.

Hub.

Do I see? or is't my fancy that would have it so?

Ha? 'tis her face: come hither Maid.

Jac.

What ha', you Bells for my squirrell? I ha' giv'n Bun meat, You do not love me, do you? catch me a butterfly, And I'le love you againe; when? can you tell? Peace, we go a birding: I shall have a fine thing.

Hub.

Her voyce too sayes the same; but for my head I would not that her manners, were so chang'd, Heare me thou honest fellow; what's this Mayden, That lives amongst you here?

Gincks.

Ao, ao, ao, ao.

Hub.

How? nothing but signes?

Gin.

Ao, ao, ao, ao.

Hub.

This strange, I would saine have it her, but not her thus.

Hig.

He is de-de-de-de-de-de-deafe, and du-du-dude—dumb Sir.

Hub.

Slid they did all speak plain ev'n now me thought Do'st thou know this same Maid?

Sn.

Why, why, why, why, which, gu, gu, gu, gu, Gods foole She was bo-bo-bo-bo-borne at the barne younder, By-be-be-be-be-Beggars Bush-bo-bo-Bush Her name is, My-my-my-my-my-match: so was her Mo-mo-mo-Mothers too-too

Hub.

I understand no word she sayes; how long Has she been here?

Sn.

Lo-lo-long enough to be ni-ni-nigled: and she ha' go-go-go-good luck,

Hub.

I must be better inform'd, then by this way. Here was another face too, that I mark'd O the old mans: but they are vanish'd all Most sodainly: I will come here againe, O, that I were so happy, as to finde it, What I yet hope? it is put on.

Hem.

What meane you Sir, To stay there with that stammerer?

Hub.

Farewell friend,— It will be worth returne, to search: Come, Protect us our disguize now, pre'thee Hemskirck If we be taken, how do'st thou imagine This Towne will use us, that hath stood so long Out, against Woolfort?

Hem.

Ev'n to hang us forth Upon their walls a sunning, to make Crowes meate, If I were not assur'd 'o the Burgomaster, And had a pretty skuys, to see a niece there, I should scarce venture.

Hub.

Come 'tis now too late To looke back at the ports: good luck, and enter.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Floriz.

Flo.

Still blow'st thou there? and from all other parts, Do all my Agents sleepe? that nothing comes? Ther's a conspiracy of windes, and servants: If not of Elements, to ha' me breake; What should I thinke unlesse the Seas, and Sandes Had swallow'd up my ships? or fire had spoyl'd My ware-houses? or death devour'd my Facto I must ha' had some returnes;

Enter Merchants.

1. Mer.

'Saue you Sir.

Flo.

'Save you.

1. Mer.

No newes, yet 'o your Ships?

o.

Not any yet Sir.

1. Mer.

'Tis strange.

Flo.

'Tis true Sir: what a voyce was here now? This was one passing bell, a thousand ravens Sung in that man now, to presage my ruines.

2. Mer.

Goswin, good day, these winds, are very constant.

Flo.

They are so Sir; to hurt—

2. Mer.

Ha? you had no letters, Lately from England, nor from Denmark?

Flo.

Neither.

2. Mer.

This winde brings them; nor no newes over land, Through Spaine, from the Straights?

Flo.

Not any.

2. Mer.

I am sorry Sir.

Flo.

They talke me downe: and as 'tis said, of Vultures They sent a feild fought, and do smell the carkasses By many hundred miles: So do these, my wracks At greater distances: why thy will heaven Come on, and be: yet if thou please, preserve me; But in my owne adventure, here at home, Of my chast love, to keep me worthy of her, It shall be put in scale against all ill fortunes: I am not broken yet: nor should I fall, Me thinkes with lesse then that, that ruines all.

Exit

Scaena Tertia.

Enter. Van-dunck. Hubert. Hemskirck. and Margaret. Boores.

Van.

Captaine you are welcome; so is this your friend Most safely welcome, though our Towne stand out Against your Master; you shall finde good quarter: The troth is, we not love him: Meg: some wine, Let's talke a little treason, If we can Talk treason, gain' the Traitors; by your leave, Gentlemen We here in Brugis, thinke he do's usurpe, And therefore I am bold with him.

Hub.

Sir, your boldnesse, Happely becomes your mouth, but not our eares, While we are his servants; And as we come here, Not to aske questions, walke forth on your walls; Visit your courtes of guard, view your Munition, Aske of your corne-provisions, nor enquire Into the least, as spies upon your strengthes, So let's entreate, we may receive from you Nothing in passage or discourse, but what We may with gladnesse, and our honesties here, And that shall seale our welcome.

Van.

Good: let's drinke then,

Mage:

fill out, I keep mine old pearle still Captaine.

Mar.

I hang fast man.

Hem.

Old Iewels, commend their keeper, Sir.

Van.

Heer's to you with a hart, my Captaines friend, With a good heart, and if this make us speake Bold words, anon: 'tis all under the Rose Forgotten: drowne all memory, when we drinke

Hub.

'Tis freely spoken noble Burgomaster, I'le do you right.

Hem.

Nay Sir mine heire Van-dunck, Is a true Statesmen.

Van.

Fill my Captaines cup there, ô that your Master Woolfort. Had been an honest man.

Hub.

Sir?

Van.

Under the Rose.

Hem.

Heer's to you Marget.

Mar.

Welcom; welcom Captaine.

Van.

Well said my pearle still,

Van.

Well said, my pearl still,

Hem.

And how does my Niece? Almost a woman; I thinke? This friend of mine, I drew along with me, through so much hazard, Only to see her: she was my errand.

Van.

I, a kinde Uncle you are (fill him his glasse) That in seven yeares, could not find leizure.—

Hem.

No, It's not so much.

Van.

I'le bate you nev'r an houre on't, I was before the Brabander gan his war, For moone-shine, i'th water there, his daughter That never was lost: yet you could not finde time To see a Kinswoman: But shee is worth the seeing Sir. Now you are come, you aske if she were a woman? Shee is a woman Sir; fetch her forth Margee.

Exit Marg.

And a fine woman, and has Suitors.

Hem.

How? What Suitors are they.

Van.

Bachellors: young Burgers: And one, a gallant, the young Prince of Merchants, We call him here, in Bruges.

Hem.

How? a Merchant? I thought Van-doncke, you had understood me better, And my Niece too, so trusted to you by me: Then t'admit of such in name of Suitors.

Van.

Such? he is such a such, as were she mine I'de give him thirty thousand crownes with her.

Hem.

But the same things Sir, fit not you and me.

Exit.

Van.

Why, give's some wine, then; This will fit us all: Here's to you still, my Captains friend: All out: And still, would Woolfort were an honest man, Under the Rose, I speake it: but this Merchant Is a brave boy: he lives so, i'the towne here, We know not what to thinke on him: At sometimes We feare he will be Bankrupt; he do's stretch Tenter his credite so; embraces all, And too't, the winds have been contrary, long. But then, if he should have all his returnes, We thinke he would be a King, and are halfe sure on't. Your Master is a Traytor, for all this Under the Rose: here's to you; and usurps The Earldome ftom a better man.

Hub.

I marry Sir, Where is that man?

Van.

Nay soft: and I could tell you 'Tis ten to one I would not: here's my hand, I love not Woolfort: sit you still, with that: Here comes my Captaine againe, and his fine Niece, And ther's my Merchant: view him well, fill wine here.

Enter Hemskirke, Bertha, and Florenz.

Hem.

You must not only know me for your Uncle, Now, but obey me; you, goe cast your selfe Away, upon a dunghill here? a Merchant? A petty fellow? one that makes this trade With oathes and perjuries?

Flo.

What is that you say Sir? If it be me you speake of; as your eye Seemes to direct: I wish you would speake to me, Sir.

Hem.

Sir, I do say, she is no Merchandize, Will that suffice you?

Flo.

Merchandize good Sir, Though ye be Kinsman to her: take no leave thence To use me with contempt: I ever thought Your Niece above all price.

Hem.

And do so still, Sir, I assure you, her rate's at more then you are worth.

Flo.

You do not know, what a Gentleman's worth sir, Nor can you value him.

Hub.

Well said Merchant.

Van.

Nay, Let him alone, and ply your matter.

Hem.

A Genntleman? What, o' the wool-pack? or the Sugar-chest? Or lists of Velvet? which is't? pound, or yard, You vent your Gentry by?

Hub.

O Hemskirke, fye.

Van.

Come, do not mind 'em drink, he is no Woolfort, Captaine, I advise you.

Hem.

Alas, my pretty man, I think't be angry, by its looke: Come hither, Turne this way, a little: if it were the blood Of Charlemaine, as 't may (for ought I know) Be some good Botchers issue, here in Bruges.

Flo.

How?

Hem.

Nay: I'me not certaine of that; of this I am, If it once buy, and sell, its Gentry is gone.

Flo.

Ha, ha:

Hem.

You are angry, though ye laugh.

Flo.

No, now 'tis pitty Of your poor argument. Do not you, the Lords, Of land (if you be any) sell the grasse, The corne, the straw, the milke, the cheese?

Van.

And butter: Remember butter; doe not leave out butter.

Flo.

The Beefs and Muttons that your grounds are stor'd with? Swine, with the very mast, beside the woods?

Hem.

No, for those sordid uses, we have Tenants, Or else our Bayliffs.

Flo.

Have not we Sir, Chap-men, And Factors, then to answer these? your errour Fetch'd from the Heralds A B C. and said over With your Court faces, once an houre, shall never Make me mistake my selfe. Do not your Lawyers Sell all their practise, as your Priests their prayers? What is not bought, and sold? The company That you had last, what had you fort, y'faith?

Hem.

You now grow sawcy.

Flo.

Sure I have been bred Still, with my honest liberty, and must use it.

Hem.

Upon your equals, then.

Flo.

Sir, he that will Provoke me first, doth make himselfe my equall.

Hem.

Do ye heare? no more.

Flo.

Yes Sir, this little, I pray you, And't shall be aside, then after, as you please, You appeare the Uncle, s••ir, to her I love, More then mine eyes; and I have heard your scorns With so much scoffing, and so much shame, As each strive which is greater: But, beleeve me I suck'd not in this patience with my milke. Do not presume, because you see me young, Or cast despights on my profession For the civility and tamenesse of it. A good man beares a contumely worse Then he would do an injury. Proceed not To my offence: wrong is not still successefull, Indeed it is not: I would approach your Kins-woman With all respect, done to your selfe and her.

Hem.

Away Companion: handling her? take that.

Flo.

Nay, I do love no blows, sir, there's exchange.

Hub.

Hold sir,

Mar.

O murther.

Ber.

Help, my Goswin.

Mar.

Man.

Van.

Let 'em alone; my life for one.

Flo.

Nay come

If you have will.

Hub.

None to offend you, I, Sir.

Flo.

He that had, thank himself: not hand her? yes Sir, And claspe her, and embrace her; and (would she Now goe with me) bear her through all her race, Her Father, Brethren, and her Uncles, arme'd, And all their Nephews, though they stood a wood Of pikes, and wall of Canon: kisse me Gertrude, Quake not, but kisse me.

Van-d.

Kisse him, girle, I bid you; My Merchant royall; feare no Uncles: hang 'em, Hang up all Uncles: Are we not in Bruges? Under the Rose here?

Flo.

In this circle, Love, Thou are as safe, as in a towre of brasse; Let such as do wrong, feare.

Van.

I, that's good, Let Woolfort looke to that.

Flo.

Sir, here she stands, Your Niece, and my beloved. One of these titles She must apply to; if unto the last, Not all the anger can be sent unto her, In frowne, or voyce, or other art, shall force her, Had Hercules a hand in't: Come, my Joy, Say thou art mine, aloud Love, and professe it.

Van.

Doe: and I drinke to it.

Flo.

Prethee say so, Love.

Ber.

'Twould take away the honour from my blushes: Doe not you play the Tyrant, sweet: they speake it.

Hem.

I thanke you Niece.

Flo.

Sir, thanke her for your life, And fetch your sword within.

Hem.

You insult too much With your good fortune, Sir.

Exit Florez.

Hub.

A brave cleare spirit; Hemskirke, you were too blame: a civill habit Oft covers a good man: and you may meete In person of a Merchant, with a soule As resolute, and free, and all wayes worthy, As else in any file of man-kinde: pray you, What meant you so to slight him?

Hem.

'Tis done now, Aske no more of it; I must suffer.

Exit Hemskirk.

Hub.

This, Is still the punishment of rashnesse, sorrow; Well; I must to the woods, for nothing here Will be got out. There, I may chance to learne Somewhat to help my enquiries further.

Van.

Ha? A Looking-glasse.

Hub.

How now, brave Burgo-master?

Van.

I love no Woolforts, and my names Vandoncke,

Hub.

Van-drunke it's rather: Come, go sleep within.

Van.

Earle Florez is right heir, and this same Woolfort Under the Rose I speake it. —

Hub.

Very hardly.

Van-d.

Usurpes: and a ranke Traitor, as ever breath'd, And all that do uphold him. Let me goe, No man shall hold me, that upholds him; Doe you uphold him?

Hub.

No.

Van.

Then hold me up.

Exeunt.

Enter Florez and Hemskirke.

Hem.

Sir, I presume, you have a sword of your owne, That can so handle anothers.

Flo.

Faith you may Sir.

He.

And ye have made me have so much better thoughts of you As I am bound to call you forth.

Flo.

For what Sir?

Hem.

To the repairing of mine honour, & hurt here.

Flo.

Expresse your way.

Hem.

By fight, and speedily.

Flo.

You have your will: Require you any more?

Hem.

That you be secret: and come single.

Flo.

I will.

Hem.

As you are the Gentlemā you would be thought.

Flo.

Without the Conjuration: and I'le bring Only my sword, which I will fit to yours, I'le take his length within.

Hem

Your place now Sir?

Flo.

By the Sand-hills.

Hem.

Sir, nearer to the woods, If you thought so, were fitter.

Flor.

There, then.

Hem.

good. Your time?

Flo.

'Twixt seven and eight.

Hem.

You'l give me Sir Cause to report you worthy of my Niece, If you come, like your promise.

Flo.

If I do not Let no man think to call me unworthy first, I'le doe't my selfe: and justly wish to want her.—

Exeunt.