A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vi Part 42

LUCRE.

Then, Master Davy, to my palace haste thee away, And will Crafty Conveyance, my butler, to make ready The best fare in the house to welcome thee and thy company.

But stay, Dissimulation, I myself will go with thee.

Gentlemen, I'll go before; but pray, in any case, So soon as ye please, resort to my place.

[_Exeunt_ DISSIMULATION _and_ LUCRE.

SIMONY.

I warrant you, lady,[165] we will not long absent be.

USURY.

Fellow Simony, this fell out pat, so well as heart could wish.

We are cunning anglers: we have caught the fattest fish.

I perceive it is true that her grandmother told: Here is good to be done by use of silver and gold.

And sith I am so well settled in this country, I will pinch all, rich and poor, that come to me.

SIMONY.

And sirrah, when I was at Rome, and dwelt in the Friary, They would talk how England yearly sent over a great ma.s.s of money, And that this little island was more worth to the Pope, Than three bigger realms which had a great deal more scope; For here were smoke-pence, Peter-pence, and Paul-pence to be paid, Besides much other money that to the Pope's use was made.

Why, it is but lately since the Pope received this fine, Not much more than twenty-six years--it was in Queen Mary's time.[166]

But I think England had never known what this gear had meant, If Friar Austin from the Pope had not hither been sent; For the Pope, hearing it to be a little island, sent him with a great army over, And winning the victory, he landed about Rye, Sandwich, or Dover: Then he erected laws, having the people in subjection; So for the most part England hath paid tribute so long-- I, hearing of the great store and wealth in the country, Could not choose but persuade myself the people loved Simony.

USURY.

But stay your talk till some other time: we forget my lady.

SIMONY.

Of troth you say true, for she bad us make haste: [_Aside_.]

But my talk, me-thought, savoured well, and had a good taste.

[_Exeunt ambo_.

_Enter_ MERCATORE _like an Italian Merchant_.

MERCATORE.

I judge in my mind a, dat me be not vare far From da place where dwells my Lady Lucar.

But here come an shentlymane, a, soe he do.

[_Enter_ DISSIMULATION.

Shentleman, I pray you heartily, let me speak you.

Pray you, do you not know a shentleman dat Master Davy do call?

DISSIMULATION.

Yes, marry, do I: I am he, and what would you withal?

MERCATORE.

Gooda my friend, Master Davy, help me, pray you heartily, For a some-a acquaintance a with Madonna Lucar, your lady.

DISSIMULATION.

Sir, upon condition I will: therefore I would you should know, That on me and my fellows you must largely bestow; Whose names are Fraud, Usury, and Simony, men of great credit and calling, And to get my lady's goodwill and theirs it is no small thing.

But tell me, can you be content to win Lucre by Dissimulation?

MERCATORE.

A, gooda my friend, do axe-a me no shush a question, For he dat will live in the world must be of the world sure; And de world will love his own, so long as the world endure.

DISSIMULATION.

I commend your wit, sir; but here comes my lady.

_Enter_ LUCRE.

MERCATORE.

Come hither: here's to tree crowns for de speak me.

DISSIMULATION.

Well, sir, I thank you: I will go speak for you.

LUCRE.

Master Davy Dissimulation, what new acquaintance have ye gotten there?

DISSIMULATION.

Such a one, madam, that unto your state hath great care; And surely in my mind the gentleman is worthy To be well-thought on for his liberality, bounty, and great care to seek ye.

LUCRE.

Gentleman, you are heartily welcome: how are you called, I pray you tell us?

MERCATORE.

Madonna, me be a mershant, and be call'd Signer Mercatore.

LUCRE.

But, I pray you, tell me what countryman?

MERCATORE.

Me be, Madonna, an Italian.

LUCRE.

Yet let me trouble ye: I beseech ye whence came ye?

MERCATORE.

For salva vostra buona grazia,[167] me come from Turkey.

LUCRE.

Gramercy: but Signor Mercatore, dare you not to undertake Secretly to convey good commodities out of this country for my sake?

MERCATORE.

Madonna, me do for love of you tink no pain too mush, And to do anyting for you me will not grush: Me will a forsake a my fader, moder, king, country, and more dan dat; Me will lie and forswear meself for a quarter so much as my hat.

What is dat for love of Lucre me dare, or will not do?

Me care not for all the world, the great devil, nay, make my G.o.d angry for you.

LUCRE.

You say well, Mercatore; yet Lucre by this is not thoroughly won: But give ear, and I will show what by thee must be done.