 | Iacke Drums Entertainment :Or The Comedie of Pasquill and Katherine |  |
ACTVS QVARTVS.
Enter Drum and Winifride.Drum.
Truly Mistresse Winifride, as I would be willing
to be thankfull, and thankfull to finde you willing
to prostrate your faire partes to my pleasure, so I hope
you will remember your promise, and promise what
you now remember, if you haue forgot, I would be glad
to put you in minde of it.
Wini.
Truly friend Iohn, as I would be loth to breake
my promise, so I would be vnwilling to keepe my word
to the dishonesting of my virginitie. Marry for a nights
lodging or so, I wil not be strait lac'd to my friend. Therfore
thus it must be. To night I must lie at the Farme at
Holloway, thither shall you be conueyed in this Sacke,
& laid in my chamber, from whence you shall haue free
accesse to the pleasures of my priuate bed.
Well then bee constant Winifride, and you
shall finde me faithfull Iacke Drum: and so taking leaue
of your lippes, I betake me to the tuition of the Sacke.
Enter Twedle.
Exit Drum.
Twe.
Winifride my Mistresse Camelia staies for you to
attend her to the Greene, I must go and clap my Tabers
cheekes there, for the heauens Ifaith.
Wini.
Stay a little heere, and if Iohn fo de king come,
giue him that Sack. Oh I could crack my Whalebones,
breake my Buske, to think what laughter may arise from
this.
Exit Winifride.
Enter Mounsieur.
Moun.
By my trot, dis loue is a most cleanly Ientleman,
he is very full of shifte, de fine Vench, can inuent
ten towsand, towsand trick to kisse a men (hee) see by
gor she ha keepe her word, she is in de seck alreadie, hee,
braue by gor, my blood das sparkle in my veine for ioy.
Metre Timotty you must giue me dat seck dere.
Timo.
Owy da Mounsieur, that is well pronounced is
it not?
Moun.
Ritt, ritt, ritt, excellan: excellan: adew Timothy,
me am almost burst for ioy.
Exit Mounsieur.
Twe.
Well, I know what the Wenches on the green
are saying now, as well as if I were in their bellies, when
will Timothy come, when wil honest Timothy approach,
when will good Timothy drawe neare? Well Wenches
now reioyce, for Timothy Twedle doth come.
Exit Twedle.
Enter Pla. Bra. Sig. and Bra. Iunior.
Bra. Iu.
Brother how like you of our moderne witts?
How like you the new Poet Mellidus?
Bra. Sig.
A slight bubling spirit, a Corke, a Huske.
How like you Musus fashion in his carriage?
Bra. Sig.
O filthily, he is as blunt as Pawles.
Bra. Iu.
What thinke you of the Lines of Decius?
Writes he not a good cordiall sappie stile?
Bra. Sig.
A surreinde Iaded wit, but a rubbes on.
Pla.
Brabant thou art like a paire of Ballance,
Thou wayest all sauing thy selfe.
Br. Sig.
Good faith, troth is, they are all Apes & gulls,
Vile imitating spirits, dry heathy Turffes.
Bra. Iu.
Nay brother, now I thinke your iudgement erres.
Pla.
Erre, he cannot erre man, for children & fooles
speake truthe alwaies.
Enter Mounsieur with a Sacke, and Iack Drum in it.
Bra. Sig.
See who comes yonder sweating with a pack.
Pla.
Mounsieur, what do you beare there ha?
Moun.
Pree you away, you breake my glasses der, Ieshu,
now mee know not what to doe, Zot dat I was to
come dis way widd dem.
Pla.
Glasses you salt rheume, come what ha you there?
Moun.
Trike no more for Ieshu sake, by gor mee haue
brittle vare, if you knock it, it will break presant, pre you adieu.
Br. Iu.
We must know whats in the bag Ifaith.
Moun.
By my trot, mee tell you true, will you not trike
me den?
Bra. Iu.
No faith, but see you tell vs true, or else.
Moun.
Or els, or els by gor, do wat you please wid me:
Sweet Vinifride, my verie art dus vurst, he by gor, me did
not dink to vrong yow dus: come out sweet Vinifrid, me
much discredit yow.
He Iack Drum. Iesu vat made you dere?
Drum.
Gentlemen my M. desires you to come supp
with him, I was sent to inuite you, and this itching goat,
would needs ease my legges & carry me: I hope you'le
her not, well.
Exit Drum.
Bra. Sig.
Come, there's some knot of knauery in this tricke.
Pla.
His culler is not currant, wel, let passe.
Bra. Sig.
Come Mounsieur, come, Ile helpe you to a Wench,
Go downe the hill before, Ile follow you.
Moun.
Me dank you: Mor deu, he mon a mee, me
ame trooke dead wit greife, de cock of my humore is
downe, and me may hang my selfe vor a Vench.
Exit Moun.
Bra. Sig.
Gentlemen will you laugh hartily now?
Pla.
I, and if thou wilt play the foole kindly now.
Bra. Sig.
I wil strait frame the strongest eternall Iest
That e're was builded by Inuention:
My wife lies verie priuate in the Towne,
I'le bring the French man to her presently,
As to a loose lasciuious Curtezan:
Nor he, nor you, nor she, shall know the rest,
But it shall be immortall for a Iest.
Exit Bra. Sig.
Bra. Iu.
Farwel brother, we shal meet at Hygate soone.
Pla.
The wicked Iest be turnde on his owne head,
Pray God he may be kindly Cuckoled.
Exeunt both.
Enter Camelia and Winifride.
Came.
Carry this fauour to my Ellis straight,
I long to see him, preethe bid him come.
Wini.
I would be loth to nourish your defame,
And therefore Mistresse pray you pardon me.
Came.
What is thy iudgement of my Ellis chandge?
Wini.
No that is firme: but your estate is changde.
You know your sister's straungely vanished,
And now the hope and revenue of all,
Now therefore would I haue you chaunge your loue.
Indeed I yeeld tis moderne policie,
To kisse euen durt that plaisters vp our wants.
I'le not denie, tis worthy wits applause,
For women on whom lowring Fortune squints,
And casts but halfe an eye of due respect,
To pinne some amorous Idiot to their eyes,
And vse him as they vse their Looking-glasse,
See how to adorne their beauties by his wealth,
And then case vp the foole and lay him by.
But for such Ladies as your selfe is now,
Whose fortunes are sustaind by all the proppes
That gracious Fortune can aduance you with,
For such a one to yoake her free sweet youth
Vnto a Lowne, a Dane-like barbarous Sot,
A guilden Trunchion, fie, tis slauish vile.
Oh what is richer then content in loue?
And will you now hauing so huge a Ruck
Of heap'd vp fortunes, goe and chaine your selfe
To a dull post, whose verie eies will blaze
His base bred spirit, where so e're he comes,
And shame you with the verie name of wife.
No Mistris, no, I haue found out a man
That merits you, if man can merit you.
Came.
Lord what a tide of hate comes creeping on
Vpon my former iudgement? Come, the man?
Wini.
The man? (oh God) the man is such a man,
That he is matchlesse: oh, I shall prophane
His name, with vnrespected vtterance.
Ca.
Oh thou tormentst me, deare Winifride the man?
Wi.
By the sweet pleasures of an amorous bed,
I thinke you will be deified by him.
And Planet is the man.
Came.
Out on the diuell, theres a man indeed.
Wini.
Nay looke you now, you'le straight oreshoot your selfe,
You'le say hee's sowre and vnsociable:
Tush you know him not, that humor's forc'd:
But in his natiue spirit hee's as kinde
As is the life of loue. And then the clearest skinne,
The whitest hand, the cleanest wel shap'd legge:
The quickest eye: Fie, fie, I shall but blurre
And sulley his bright worth with my rude speech.
Came.
Well, if he court me, Ile not be much coy.
Wi.
Court you? nay you must court him for ought know:
You must not think forsoothe, that I am feed
To vrge you thus. I solemnly protest,
I motion this out of my pure vowed loue,
Which wisheth all aduancement and content
To attend the glory of your beautious youth.
Ca.
O I am Planet stricken Winifride,
How shall I intimate my loue to him?
Wi.
I sawe him comming vp the hill euen now,
Send him a fauour, and Ile beare it to him,
And tell him you desire to speake with him.
Exit Winifride.
Ca.
Do, do, deare Winifride, sweet wench make haste.
Enter Sir Edward Fortune, and Iohn Ellis, with a Paper in his hand.
Ellis.
Sir, I haue her good will, and please you now to
giue me your consent, and looke you Sir, here I haue Item'd
forth what I am worth.
Sir Ed.
Tush shewe me no Items, and shee loue you,
a God name: Ile not bee curst by my daughter for
how fortunate we are; Looke where shee stands.
Came.
Sweet Planet, thou onely gouernst mee.
Sir Ed.
Daughter giue mee your hand, with your
consent, I giue you to this Gentleman.
Ca.
Marry phoh, wil you match me to a foole?
Sir Ed.
God pardon me, not I: why M. Ellis ha?
Had you her consent, speake freely man?
El.
Indeed law now, I thought so: by my troth
You sed you lou'de me, that you did indeed.
Ca.
I as my foole, my Idiot to make sport.
Sir Ed.
Fie daughter, you are too plaine with him.
Alas my sonne Similie is out of countenance.
El.
Truly as a Mill-horse, is not a horse Mill, and as a
Cart Iade, is not a Iade Cart, euen so will I go hang my
selfe.
Sir Ed.
Mary godforbid, what frolick, frolick man,
weele haue a Cup of Sack and Sugar soone, shall quite
expell these mustie humours of stale melancholy.
Enter Pasquil and a Countrey Wench, with a Basket of Egges.
Pas.
Is this the Egge where Castor and Pollux bred?
Ile crack the Bastard in the verie shell.
Coun. Mayd.
Alas my markets, my markets are cleane
spoilde.
Exit Wench.
Pas.
Vbi Hellena, vbi Troia, ist not true my Ganimede,
When shall old Saturne mount his Throane againe?
See, see, alas how bleake Religion stands.
Katherina, Katherina, you damned Titanoies,
Why prick you heauens ribbes with blasphemie?
Python yet breathes, old gray hayr'd pietie.
Sir Ed.
Alas kind youth, how came he thus distraught?
I left him in pursuite of Katherine,
And found him in this straunge distemperature.
Pas.
O Sir, ist you that stampe on litrature?
You are inspired you with Prophesie.
El.
Not I, as I shall be sau'd, I am M. Iohn Ellis I.
Sir Ed.
Come, come, lets intice him by some good meanes,
Ile labour to reclaime him to his witts.
O now my daughter Katherine remembers me,
Where art thou girle? heauen giue me patience.
Pas.
Poore, poore Astrea, who blurs thy orient shine?
Come yons the Capitoll of Iupiter,
Letts whip the Senate, els they will not leaue
To haue their Iustice blasted with abuse
Of flattering Sycophants. Come lets mount the Starres,
Reuerend antiquitie go you in first—
Dotage will follow. Then comes pale fac'de Lust—
Next Sodome, then Gomorha, next poore I,
By heauen my heart is burst with miserie.
Exit Pas.
Enter Brabant Signior, Mounsieur and the Page.
Moun.
I ha tell yow de very trote of the lagg Iest, by
gor your England Damosells are so feere, so vittie, so
kitt, by my trote shee tosse me wish vey shee please der:
but pre yow were is de Vench? Is dis de house? Ha is
dis de house, pre yow tell me ha?
Bra. Sig.
It is, it is, and shee is in the Inner Chamber:
Boy call her foorth.
Exit Page.
Moun.
Sings.
By gor den me must needs now sing,
Ding, ding, a ding, Dinga, dinga, ding,
For me am now at pleasures spring.
Dinga, ding, ding, dinga, dinga, dinga, ding,
And a hee da vench, da vench, da vench,
Which must my bruling humor quench. Coma, coma, com.
Mist. Bra.
Now sweet, you kept your promise wel last night.
Moun.
By gor she giue him much kind word already.
Bra. Sig.
Well to make thee amends, boy fetch vs a
quart of Canary Sack. Prythee Mall entertain this French
Gentleman.
Mist. Bra.
Sir you are verie welcome to my Lodging.
Moun.
Me danck you, and first mee kisse your fingre,
next mee busse your lip, and last mee clip your vaste, and
now foutra for de Vinifride.
Page.
Sir Edwards Caterer passed by sir, you wild me
to remember Lemmons.
Bra. Sig.
Gods pretious tis true: Boy goe with me to
Billings-gate. Mall I'le returne straight.
Exit Bra. Sig. and his Page.
Moun.
Will yow no Vin sir, hee, he is gone purposely,
by my trote most kind Gentleman. Faire Madame pree
yow pittie mee, by Gor mee languish for your loue, me
am a pouera French Ientleman, pree you shew me your
bed-Chambre.
Mist. Bra.
What mean you sir, by this strange passion?
Moun.
Nay noting, by Gor damosell, you be so faer,
so admirably feer, flesh and bloud cannot endure your
countenance, mee brule, and mee brule, ang yow ha no
compassion, by gor me ang quite languish. Last night
me goe to bedd, and me put de candle behinde me, and
by my trote me see cleane torough me. Me ang so drye,
me put a cold plattre at my backe, and my back melt de
plattre quite, do so burne. Pree you shew mee your bed
Chambre, mee will be secrete constant: I loue you vnreasonably
vell, vnreasonably vell by gor.
Mist. Bra.
In faith you make me blush, what should I
say?
Say no, ang take it: Or arke you one ting, Say
neder yea nor no, but take it, ang say noting.
Mist. Bra.
You will be close and secret?
Moun.
Secred, by gor as secred as your sowle, me wil
tell noting, possible.
Mist. Bra.
Well Sir, if it please you to see my Chamber,
tis at your seruice.
Exit Mist. Brabant.
Moun.
Hee now me ang braue Mounsieur, by gor ang
me had know dis, mee woode haue eate some Potatos,
or Ringoe: but vell: hee. Me will tanck Metre Brabant
vor dis, by gor me am caught in heauen blisse.
Exit Mounsieur.
Enter Camelia and Winifride, hanging on Planets armes.
Ca.
Oh too vnkind, why doest thou scorne my loue?
Shee that with all the vehemence of speech
Hath bene pursued, and kneeled too for loue,
Prostrates her selfe, and all her choycest hopes,
As lowe as to thy feete, disdaine me not,
To scorne a Virgin, is mans odious blot.
Pla.
To scorne a man, is Virgins odious blot.
Wert thou as rich as is the Oceans wombe,
As beautious as the glorious frame of heauen,
Yet would I loath thee worse then varnisht skulles,
Whose ryuels are dawbd vp with plaistering painte.
Came.
O Rockie spirit.
Pla.
Breathe not in vaine, I hate thy flatterings,
Detest thy purest elegance of speech,
Worse then I do the Croaking of a Toade.
Wini.
Sweete Gentleman.
Pla.
Peace you Rebato pinner, Poting-sticke,
You bribde corrupters of affection:
Then I do loue my selfe. Hence packe, away,
I'le sooner doate vpon a bleare-eide Witch,
A saplesse Beldame, then Ile flatter thee.
Came.
Be not too cruell sweet Planet, deare relent,
Compassionate my amorous languishment.
Pla.
Ha, ha, I pree thee kneele, beg, blubber, Cry,
Whilste I behold thee with a loathing eye:
And laugh to see thee weepe.
Came.
Looke, on my knees I creepe,
Be not impenetrable beautious youth,
But smile vpon me, and Ile make the aire
Court thy choyce eare with soft delicious sounds.
Bring forth the Violls, each one play his part,
Musick's the quiuer of young Cupids dart.
The Song with the Violls.
Pla.
Out Syren, peace scritch-owle, hence chattering Pye,
The blackt beakt night Crow, or the howling Dog,
Shall be more gratious then thy squeaking voice:
Go sing to M. Iohn. I shall be blunt
If thou depart not, hence go mourne and die,
I am the scourge of light inconstancie.
Exit Camelia and Winifride.
Thus my deare Brabant, am I thy reuenge,
And whip her for the peeuish scorne she bare
To thy weake yonger birth: ô that the soules of men
Were temperate like mine, then Natures painte
Should not triumph o're our infirmities.
I do adore with infinit respect,
Weomen whose merit issues from their worth
Of inward graces, but these rotten poasts
That are but guilt with outward garnishment,
Enter Brabant Iunior.
I will conceale what I for him haue wrought,
Nice Iealousie mistakes a friendly part:
Now Brabant wheres thy elder brother ha?
What hath he built the Iest with Mounsieur yet?
Bra. Iu.
Faith I know not, but I heard he left the
French-man with his wife.
Pla.
Knew she thy brothers meaning?
Bra. Iu.
Not a whit, shee's a meere straunger to this
merriment.
Pla.
Hit and be luckie, ô that twere lawfull now
To pray to God that he were Cuckoled.
Deare Brabant I do hate these bumbaste wits,
That are puft vp with arrogant conceit
Of their owne worth, as if Omnipotence
Had hoysed them to such vnequald height,
That they suruaide our spirits with an eye
Only create to censure from aboue,
When good soules they do nothing but reproue.
See where a Shallop comes. How now, what newes?
Enter Winifride, and whispers with Planet.
Bra. Iu.
What might this meane, that Winifrid salutes
The blunt tongu'de Planet, with such priuate speech?
See with what vehemence she seemes to vrge
Some priuate matter. Planet is my friend,
And yet the strongest linke of friendship's strainde,
When female loue puts to her mightie strength.
Marke, Marke, she offers him Camelias scarfe:
Now on my life 'tis so: Planet supplants my Loue.
Pla.
Friend I must leaue thee, preethee pardon mee,
Weele meete at supper soone with the good knight.
Exeunt Pla. and Winifride.
I, I, content: ô hell to my delight,
My friend will murder me, thin Cobweb Lawne
Burst with each litle breath of tempting sweets.
Winifride speakes from within.
She intreats you M. Planet, to meete
Her at the Crosse stile.
Bra. Iu.
Ha, at the crosse stile, well I'le meet him there.
He thats perfidious to me in my loue,
Confusion take him, and his bloud be spilt
Without confusion to the murderer.
Exit Brabant.
| Iacke Drums Entertainment :Or The Comedie of Pasquill and Katherine | |