A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 102

I'd rather turn me back to find some comfort.

JOHN. And that way sorrow's hurtfuller than this, My brother having brought unto a grave That murder'd body whom he call'd his wife, And spent so many tears upon her hea.r.s.e, As would have made a tyrant to relent; Then, kneeling at her coffin, this he vow'd From thence he never would embrace your bed.

THOM. The more fool he.

JOHN. Never from hence acknowledge you his wife: Where others strive t'enrich their father's name, It should be his only aim to beggar ours, To spend their means should be his only pride: Which, with a sigh confirm'd, he's rid to London, Vowing a course,[380] that by his life so foul Men ne'er should join the hands without the soul.

KATH. All is but grief, and I am arm'd for it.

JOHN. We'll bring you on your way in hope thus strong: Time may at length make straight what yet is wrong.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT III.

_An Inn_.

_Enter_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY.

WEN. He's our own, he's our own! Come, let's make use of his wealth, as the sun of ice: melt it, melt it.

ILF. But art sure he will hold his meeting?

WEN. As sure as I am now, and was dead drunk last night.

ILF. Why then so sure will I be arrested by a couple of serjeants, and fall into one of the unlucky cranks about Cheapside, called Counters.

BAR. Withal, I have provided Master Gripe the usurer, who upon the instant will be ready to step in, charge the serjeants to keep thee fast, and that now he will have his five hundred pounds, or thou shalt rot for it.

WEN. When it follows, young Scarborow shall be bound for the one; then take up as much more. We share the one-half, and help him to be drunk with the other.

ILF. Ha, ha, ha!

_Enter_ SCARBOROW.

BAR. Why dost laugh, Frank?

ILF. To see that we and usurers live by the fall of young heirs, as swine by the dropping of acorns. But he's come. Where be these rogues: shall we have no 'tendance here?

SCAR. Good day, gentlemen.

ILF. A thousand good days, my n.o.ble bully, and as many good fortunes as there were gra.s.shoppers in Egypt, and that's covered over with good luck. But nouns, p.r.o.nouns and participles! where be these rogues here?

what, shall we have no wine here?

_Enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. Anon, anon, sir.

ILF. Anon, goodman rascal, must we stay your leisure? give't us by and by, with a pox to you.

SCAR. O, do not hurt the fellow.

[_Exit_ DRAWER.

ILF. Hurt him! hang him, sc.r.a.petrencher, stair-wearer,[381]

wine-spiller, metal-clanker, rogue by generation. Why, dost hear, Will?

If thou dost not use these grape-spillers as you do their pottle-pots, quoit them down-stairs three or four times at a supper, they'll grow as saucy with you as serjeants, and make bills more unconscionable than tailors.

_Enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. Here's the pure and neat grape, gentlemen, I a.s.sure you.[382]

ILF. Fill up: what have you brought here, goodman rogue?

DRAW. The pure element of claret, sir.

ILF. Have you so, and did not I call for Rhenish, you mongrel?

[_Throws the wine in the_ DRAWER'S _face_.

SCAR. Thou need'st no wine; I prythee, be more mild.

ILF. Be mild in a tavern? 'tis treason to the red lattice,[383] enemy to their sign-post, and slave to humour: prythee, let's be mad.

_Sings this.

Then fill our heads with wine Till every pate be drunk, then p.i.s.s i'the street, Jostle all you meet, And swagger with a punk_--

As thou wilt do now and then: thank me, thy good master, that brought thee to it.

WEN. Nay, he profits well; but the worst is, he will not swear yet.

SCAR. Do not belie me: if there be any good in me, that's the best.

Oaths are necessary for nothing; they pa.s.s out of a man's mouth, like smoke through a chimney, that files[384] all the way it goes.

WEN. Why then I think tobacco to be a kind of swearing; for it furs our nose pockily.

SCAR. But, come, let's drink ourselves into a stomach afore supper.

ILF. Agreed. I'll begin with a new health. Fill up.

_To them that make land fly, By wines, wh.o.r.es, and a die: To them that only thrives By kissing others' wives: To them that pay for clothes With nothing but with oaths: Care not from whom they get, So they may be in debt.

This health, my hearts! [_Drinks_.

But who their tailors pay, Borrow, and keep their day, We'll hold him like this gla.s.s, A brainless, empty a.s.s, And not a mate for us_.

Drink round, my hearts!