 | The Nevv Inne. Or, The light Heart |  |
Act 1.
Scene 1.
Host.Ferret.
I am not pleas'd, indeed, you are i'the right;
Nor is my house pleas'd, if my signe could speake,
The signe o'the light Heart. There, you may read it;
So may your master too, if he looke on't.
A heart weigh'd with a fether, and out weigh'd too:
A brayne-child o'mine owne! and I am proud on't!
And if his worship thinke, here, to be melancholy,
In spight of me or my wit, he is deceiu'd;
I will maintayne the Rebus 'gainst all humors,
And all complexions i'the body of Man,
That's my word, or i'the Isle of Britaine!
[Ferret.]
You haue reason good mine host.
Hos.
Sir I haue rime too.
A heauy purse makes a light Heart.
There 'tis exprest! first, by a purse of gold,
A heauy purse, and then two Turtles, makes,
A heart with a light stuck in't, a light heart!
Old Abbot Islip could not inuent better,
Or Prior Bolton with his bolt and Ton.
I am an Innekeeper, and know my grounds,
And study 'hem; Brayne o'man, I study 'hem:
I must ha' iouiall guests to driue my ploughs,
And whistling boyes to bring my haruest home,
Or I shall heare no Flayles thwack. Here, your master,
And you ha'beene this fornight, drawing fleas
Out of my mattes, and pounding 'hem in cages
Cut out of cards, & those rop'd round with pack-thred
Drawne thorow birdlime! a fine subtilty!
Or poring through a multiplying glasse,
Vpon a captiu'd crab-louse, or a cheese-mite
To be dissected, as the sports of nature,
With a neat Spanish needle! Speculations
That doe become the age, I doe confesse!
As measuring an Ants egges, with the Silke-wormes,
By a phantassique instrument of thred,
Shall giue you their iust difference, to a haire!
Or else recouering o'dead flyes, with crums!
(Another queint conclusion i'the physicks)
Which I ha seene you busie at, through the key-hole—
But neuer had the fate to see a flye—
Ent. Loue.
Aliue i'your cups, or once heard, drinke mine host,
Or such a chearfull chirping charme come from you.
Scene 2.
Lovet.Ferret. Host.
What's that? what's that?
Fer.
A buzzing of mine host
About a flye! a murmure that he has.
Host.
Sir I am telling your Stote here, Monsieur Ferret,
For that I heare's his name) and dare tell you, Sir,
If you haue a minde to be melancholy, and musty,
There's Footmans Inne, at the townes end, the stockes,
Or Carriers Place, at signe o'the broken Waine,
Mansions of State! Take vp your harbour there;
There are both flyes and fleas, and all variety
Of vermine, for inspection, or dissection.
Lov.
We ha set our rest vp here, Sir, i'your Heart.
Host.
Sir set your heart at rest, you shall not doe it:
Vnlesse you can be iouiall. Brayne o'man,
Be iouiall first, and drinke, and dance, and drinke.
Your lodging here, and wi'your daily dumps,
Is a mere libell 'gayn' my house and me;
And, then, your scandalous commons.
Lov.
How mine host?
Host.
Sir, they doe scandall me, vpo'the road, here
A poore quotidian rack o'mutton, roasted,
Drie, to be grated! and that driuen downe
VVith beare, and butter-milke, mingled together,
Or clarified whey, instead of Claret!
It is against my free-hold, my inheritance,
To drinke such balder dash, or bonny clabbee!
Gi'me good wine, or catholique, or christian,
Wine is the word, that glads the heart of man:
And mine's the house of wine, Sack, say's my bush,
Be merry, and drinke Sherry; that's my poêsie!
For I shall neuer ioy i'my light heart,
So long as I conceiue a sullen ghest,
Or any thing that's earthy!
Lov.
Humerous Host.
Host.
I care not if I be.
Lov.
But airy also,
Not to defraud you of your rights, or trench
Vpo'your priviledges, or great charter,
(For those are euery hostlers language now)
Say, you were borne beneath those smiling starres,
Haue made you Lord, and owner of the Heart.
Of the Light Heart in Barnet; suffer vs
Who are more Saturnine, t'enioy the shade
Of your round roofe yet.
Host.
Sir I keepe no shades
Nor shelters, I: for either Owles or Rere-mise.
Scene 3.
Ferret.Host. Louel.
He'll make you a bird of night, Sir.
Host.
Blesse you child,
You'l make your selues such.
Lov.
'That your son mine host?
En. Fra. (the Host speake to his child o'the by
Host.
He's all the sonnes I haue Sir.
Lov.
Pretty boyy!
Goes he to schoole?
Fer.
O Lord, Sir, he prates Latine
Lov.
Thou—
Commend'st him fitly.
Fer.
To the pitch, he flies, Sir,
Hee'l tell you what is Latine for a looking-glasse,
A beard-brush, rubber, or quick-warming pan.
Lov.
What's that?
Fer.
a wench, i'the Inn-phrase, is al these;
A looking-glasse in her eye,
A beard-brush with her lips,
A rubber with her hand,
And a warming pan with her hips.
Host.
This, in your scurrile dialect. But my Inne
Knowes no such language.
F.
That's because, mine host,
You doe professe the teaching him your selfe.
Host.
Sir, I doe teach him somewhat. By degrees,
And with a funnell, I make shift to fill
The narrow vessell, he is but yet, a bottell.
Lov
O let him lose no time, though.
Hos.
Sir, he do's not.
Lov.
And lesse his manners.
Hos.
I prouide for those, too.
Come hither Franke, speake to the gentleman
Latine:
He is melancholy; say,
I long to see him merry, and so would treat him.
Fra.
Subtristis visu' es esse aliquantulùm patri,
Quite lautè excipere, etiam ac tractare gestit.
Lov.
Pulchrè.
Host.
Tell him, I feare it bodes vs some ill luck,
His too reseruednesse.
Fra.
Veretur pater,
Ne quid nobis mali ominis apportet iste
Nimis præclusus vultus.
Lov.
Bellè. A fine child!
You wou'not part with him, mine host?
H.
Who told you
I would not?
Lov.
I but aske you.
Hos.
And I answere.
To whom? for what?
Lov.
To me, to be my Page.
Host.
I know no mischiefe yet the child hath done,
Lov.
Why?
Ho.
Go down boy,
And get your break-fast. Trust me, I had rather
Take a faire halter, wash my hands, and hang him
My selfe, make a cleane riddance of him: then—
Lo.
What?
Host.
Then dam him to that desperate course of life.
Lov.
Call you that desperate, which by a line
Of institution, from our Ancestors,
Hath beene deriu'd downe to vs, and receiu'd
In a succession, for the noblest way
Of breeding vp our youth, in letters, armes,
Faire meine, discourses, ciuill exercise,
And all the blazon of a Gentleman?
Where can he learne to vault, to ride, to fence,
To moue his body gracefuller? to speake
His language purer? or to tune his minde,
Or manners, more to the harmony of Nature
Then, in these nourceries of nobility?—
Host.
I that was, when the nourceries selfe, was noble
And only vertue made it, not the mercate,
That titles were not vented at the drum,
Or common out-cry; goodnesse gaue the greatnesse,
And greatnesse worship: Euery house became
An Academy of honour, and those parts—
We see departed, in the practise, now,
Quite from the institution.
Lov.
Why doe you say so?
Or thinke so enviously? doe they not still
Learne there, the Centaures skill, the art of Thrace,
To ride? or Pollux mystery, to fence?
The Pyrrhick gestures, both to dance, and spring
In armour, to be actiue for the Warres?
May yeeld 'hem great in counsels, and the arts
Graue Nestor, and the wise Vlysses practis'd?
To make their English sweet vpon their tongue!
As reu'rend Chaucer sayes?
Host.
Sir you mistake,
To play Sir Pandarus my copy hath it,
And carry messages to Madam Cresside.
Instead of backing the braue Steed, o'mornings,
To mount the Chambermaid; and for a leape
O'the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house:
For exercise of armes, a bale of dice,
Or two or three packs of cards, to shew the cheat,
And nimblenesse of hand: mistake a cloake
From my Lords back, and pawne it. Ease his pockets
Of a superfluous Watch, or geld a iewell
Of an odde stone, or so. Twinge three or foure buttons
From off my Ladyes gowne. These are the arts,
Or seuen liberall deadly sciences
Of Pagery, or rather Paganisme,
As the tides run. To which, if he apply him,
He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tiburne,
A yeare the earlier: come to read a lecture
Vpon Aquinas at S. Thomas a Waterings,
And so goe forth a Laureat in hempe circle!
Lov.
Yo'are tart, mine host, and talke aboue your seasoning,
Ore what you seeme: it should not come, me thinkes,
Vnder your cap, this veine of salt, and sharpnesse!
These strikings vpon learning, now and then?
How long haue you, (if your dul ghest may aske it,)
Droue this quick trade, of keeping the light-heart,
Host.
Troth, I was borne to somewhat, Sir, aboue it.
Lov.
I easily suspect that: Mine host, your name.
Hos.
They call me Good-stock.
Lov.
Sir, and you confesse it,
Both i'your language, treaty, and your bearing.
Hos.
Yet all, Sir, are not sonnes o'the white Hen;
Nor can we, as the Songster sayes, come all
To be wrapt soft and warme in fortunes smock:
When she is pleas'd to trick, or trompe mankinde:
Some may be Cotes, as in the cards; but, then
Some must be knaues, some varlets, baudes, and ostlers,
As aces, duizes, cards o'ten, to face it
Out, i'the game, which all the world is.
Lov.
But,
It being i'your free-will (as 'twas) to choose
What parts you would sustaine, me thinkes, a man
Of your sagacity, and cleare nostrill, should
Haue made, another choise, then of a place
So sordid, as the keeping of an Inne:
Where euery Iouial Tinker, for his chinke,
May cry, mine host, to crambe, giue vs drinke;
And doe not slinke, but skinke, or else you stinke.
Rogue, Baud, and Cheater, call you by the surnames,
And knowne Synonyma of your profession.
Hos.
But if I be no such; who then's the Rogue,
In vnderstanding, Sir, I meane? who erres?
Who tinkleth then? or personates Thom. Tinker?
Your weazill here may tell you I talke baudy,
And teach my boy it; and you may beleeue him:
But Sir at your owne peril, if I doe not:
And at his too, if he doe lie, and affirme it.
If I be honest, and that all the cheat
Be, of my selfe, in keeping this Light Heart,
VVhere, I imagine all the world's a Play;
The state, and mens affaires, all passages
Of life, to spring new scenes come in, goe out,
And shift, and vanish; and if I haue got
A seat, to sit at ease here, i'mine Inne,
To see the Comedy; and laugh, and chuck
At the variety, and throng of humors,
And dispositions, that come iustling in,
And out still, as they one droue hence another:
VVhy, will you enuy me my happinesse?
Because you are sad, and lumpish; carry a Loade-stone
I'your pocket, to hang kniues on; or let rings,
T'entice light strawes to leape at 'hem: are not taken
VVith the alacrities of an host! 'Tis more,
And iustlier, Sir, my wonder, why you tooke
My house vp, Fidlers Hall, the Seate of noyse,
And mirth, an Inne here, to be drousie in,
And lodge your lethargie in the Light Heart,
As if some cloud from Court had beene your Harbinger,
Or Cheape-side debt-Bookes, or some Mistresse charge,
Seeing your loue grow corpulent, gi' it a dyet,
By absence some, such mouldy passion!
Lo.
'Tis guess'd vnhappily.
Fe.
Mine host, yo'are cal'd.
H.
I come, boyes.
L.
Ferret haue not you bin ploughing
VVith this mad Oxe, mine host? nor he with you?
Fer.
For what Sir?
Lov.
VVhy, to finde my riddle out.
Fer.
I hope, you doe beleeue, Sir, I can finde
With Hostes, and Host'lers.
Lou.
If you can, 'tis well.
Goe downe, and see, who they are come in, what ghests;
And bring me word.
Scene 4.
Lovel.O loue, what passion art thou!
So tyrannous! and trecherous! first t'en-slaue,
And then betray, all that in truth do serue thee!
That not the wisest, nor the wariest creature,
Can more dissemble thee, then he can beare
Hot burning coales, in his bare palme, or bosome!
And lesse, conceale, or hide thee, then a flash
Of enflam'd powder, whose whole light doth lay it
Open, to all discouery, euen of those,
Who haue but halfe an eye, and lesse of nose!
An Host, to find me! who is, commonly,
The log, a little o' this side the signe-post!
Or, at the best, some round growne thing! a Iug,
Fac'd, with a beard, that fills out to the ghests,
And takes in, fro' the fragments o'their iestes?
But, I may wrong this, out of sullennes,
Or my mis-taking humor? Pray thee, phant'sie,
Do not oppresse me. I will be as silent,
As the tame louer should be, and as foolish.
Scene 5.
Host.Ferret. Louel.
My Ghest, my Ghest, be Iouiall, I beseech thee.
I' haue fresh golden ghests, ghests o'the game:
Three coach-full! Lords! and Ladies! new come in.
And I will cry them to thee, 'and thee, to them,
So I can spring a smile, but i'this brow,
That like the rugged Roman Alderman,—
Old master Grosse, surnam'd Αγελαστος.
Ent. Ferret.
Was neuer seene to laugh, but at an Asse.
Fer.
Sir here's the Lady Frampul.
Lou.
How!
Fer.
And her train.
Lord Beaufort, & Lord Latimer, the Coronel
Tipto', with Mistris Cis, the Chamber-mayd:
Trundle, the Coachman—
Lou.
Stop, discharge the house:
And get my horses ready, bid the Groome
Bring 'hem to the back gate.
Hos.
What meane you Sir?
Lou.
To take faire leaue, mine Host.
Hos.
I hope, my Ghest,
Though I haue talked somwhat aboue my share,
At large, and bene i'the altitudes, th'extrauagants,
Neither my selfe, nor any of mine haue gi'n you
The cause, to quit my house, thus, on the sodaine.
Lou.
No, I affirme it, on my faith. Excuse me,
To tast, and loue you: and am heartily sory,
Any occasion should be so compelling,
To vrge my abrupt departure, thus. But—
Necessity's a Tyran, and commands it.
Hos.
She shall command me first to fire my bush;
Then breake vp house: Or, if that will not serue,
To breake with all the world. Turne country bankrupt.
I' mine owne towne, vpo'the Mercat-day,
And be protested, for my butter, and egges,
To the last bodge of oates, and bottle of hay;
Ere you shall leaue me, I will breake my heart:
Coach, and Coach-horses, Lords, and Ladies pack?
All my fresh ghests shall stinke! I'le pul my signe, down
Conuert mine Inne, to an Almes-house! or a Spittle,
For lazers, or switch-sellers! Turne it, to
An Academy o'rogues! or gi'it away,
For a free-schoole, to breed vp beggers in,
And send 'hem to the canting Vniuersities
Before you leaue me.
Lov.
Troth, and I confesse,
I am loath, mine host, to leaue you: your expressions
Both take, and hold me. But, in case I stay,
I must enioyne you and your whole family
To priuacy, and to conceale me. For,
The secret is, I would not willingly,
See, or beseene, to any of this ging,
Especially, the Lady.
Hos.
Braine o'man,
What monster is she? or Cocatrice in veluet,
That kils thus?
Lov.
O good words, mine host. She is
A noble Lady! great in blood! and fortune!
As she thinks nought a happinesse, but to haue
A multitude of seruants! and, to get them,
(Though she be very honest) yet she venters
Vpon these precipices, that would make her
Not seeme so, to some prying, narrow natures.
We call her, Sir, the Lady Frances Frampul,
Daughter and heire to the Lord Frampul.
Hos.
Who?
He that did loue in Oxford, first, a student,
And, after, married with the daughter of—
Lo.
Silly.
Hos.
Right, of whom the tale went, to turne Puppet-mr.
Lov.
And trauell with Yong Goose, the Motion-man.
Hos.
And lie, and liue with the Gipsies halfe a yeare
Together, from his wife.
Lo.
The very same:
The mad Lord Frampul! And this same is his daughter!
But as cock-brain'd as ere the father was!
There were two of 'hem, Frances and Lætitiæ;
But Lætice was lost yong; and, as the rumor
Flew then, the mother vpon it lost her selfe.
A fond weake woman, went away in a melancholy,
Because she brought him none but girles, she thought
Her husband lou'd her not. And he, as foolish,
Too late resenting the cause giu'n, went after,
In quest of her, and was not heard of since.
Hos.
A strange diuision of a familie!
Lov.
And scattered, as i'the great confusion!
Hos.
But yet the Lady, th'heire, enioyes the land.
Lov.
And takes all lordly wayes how to consume it
As nobly as she can; if cloathes, and feasting,
And the authoriz'd meanes of riot will doe it.
Ent. Fer.
She shewes her extract, and I honor her for it.
Scene. 6
Ferret.Lovel. Host. Cicelie.
Your horses Sir are ready; and the house
Dis—
Lou.
Pleas'd, thou thinkst?
Fer.
I cannot tel, dischargd
I'am sure it is.
Lou.
Charge it again, good Ferret.
And make vnready the horses: Thou knowst how.
Chalke, and renew the rondels, I am, now
Resolu'd to stay.
Fer.
I easily thought so,
When you should heare what's purpos'd.
L.
What?
Fer.
To throw
The house out o'the windo?
Host.
Braine o'man,
I shall ha'the worst o'that! will they not throw
My houshold stuffe out, first? Cushions, and Carpets,
Chaires, stooles, & bedding? is not their sport my ruine?
Lov.
Feare not, mine host, I am not o'the fellowship.
Fer.
I cannot see, Sir, how you will auoid it;
They know already all, you are i'the house.
Lov.
Who know?
F.
The Lords: they haue seene me, & enquir'd it.
Lov.
Why were you seene?
Fer
Because indeed I had
No med'cine, Sir, to goe inuisible:
No Ferne-seed in my pocket; Nor an Opal
Wrapt in a Bay-leafe, i'my left fist,
To charme their eyes with.
H.
He dos giue you reasons
As round as Giges ring: which, say the Ancients,
Was a hoop ring; and that is, round as a hoop!
You will ha'your Rebus still, mine host.
Hos.
I must:
Fer.
My Lady, too, lookt out o'the windo, & cal'd me.
And see where Secretary Pru. comes from her,
Ent. Pru.
Emploi'd vpon some Ambassy vnto you—
Host.
Ile meet her, if she come vpon emploiment;
Faire Lady, welcome, as your host can make you.
Pru.
Forbeare, Sir, I am first to haue mine audience,
Before the complement. This gentleman
Is my addresse to.
Host.
And it is in state.
Pru.
My Lady, Sir, as glad o'the encounter
To finde a seruant, here, and such a seruant,
Whom she so values; with her best respects,
Desires to be remembred: and inuites
Your noblenesse, to be a part, to day,
Of the society, and mirth intended
By her, and the yong Lords, your fellow-seruants.
Who are alike ambitious of enioying
The faire request; and to that end haue sent
Me, their imperfect Orator, to obtaine it:
Which if I may, they haue elected me,
And crown'd me, with the title of a soueraigne
Of the dayes sports deuised i'the Inne,
So you be pleas'd to adde your suffrage to it.
Lov.
So I be pleas'd, my gentle mistresse Prudence?
You cannot thinke me of that course condition,
T'enuy you any thing.
Host.
That's nobly say'd!
And like my ghest!
Lov.
I gratulate your honor;
And should, with cheare, lay hold on any handle,
That could aduance it. But for me to thinke,
I can be any rag, or particle
She being the Lady, that professeth still
To loue no soule, or body, but for endes;
Which are her sports: And is not nice to speake this:
But doth proclame it, in all companies:
Her Ladiship must pardon my weake counsels,
And weaker will, if it decline t'obay her.
Pru.
O master Louel you must not giue credit
To all that Ladies publiquely professe,
Or talke, o'th vollee, vnto their seruants.
Their tongues and thoughts, oft times lie far asunder.
Yet, when they please, they haue their cabinet-counsels
And reserud thoughts, and can retire themselues.
As well as others.
Host.
I, the subtlest of vs!
Al that is borne within a Ladies lips—
Pru.
Is not the issue of their hearts, mine host.
Hos.
Or kisse, or drinke afore me.
Pru.
Stay, excuse me:
Mine errand is not done. Yet, if her Ladyships
Slighting, or disesteeme, Sir, of your seruice,
Hath formerly begot any distaste,
Which I not know of: here, I vow vnto you,
Vpon a Chambermaids simplicity,
Reseruing, still, the honour of my Lady,
I will be bold to hold the glasse vp to her,
To shew her Ladyship where she hath err'd,
And how to tender satisfaction:
So you vouchsafe to proue, but the dayes venter.
Ho.
What say you, Sir? where are you? are you within?
Lov.
Yes: I will waite vpon her, and the company.
Hos.
It is enough, Queene Prudence; I will bring him:
Lov.
There is no life on earth, but being in loue!
There are no studies, no delights, no businesse,
No entercourse, or trade of sense, or soule,
But what is loue! I was the laziest creature,
The most vnprofitable signe of nothing,
The veriest drone, and slept away my life
Beyond the Dormouse, till I was in loue!
And, now, I can out-wake the Nightingale,
Out-watch an vsurer, and out-walke him too,
Stalke like a ghost, that haunted 'bout a treasure,
And all that phant'si'd treasure, it is loue!
Host.
But is your name Loue-ill, Sir, or Loue-well?
I would know that.
Lov.
I doe not know't my selfe,
Whether it is. But it is Loue hath beene
The hereditary passion of our house,
My gentle host, and, as I guesse, my friend;
The truth is, I haue lou'd this Lady long,
And impotently, with desire enough,
But no successe: for I haue still forborne
To expresse it, in my person, to her.
Hos.
How then?
Lov.
I ha' sent her toyes, verses, and Anagram's,
Trials o' wit, mere trifles she has commended,
But knew not whence they came, nor could she guesse.
Host.
This was a pretty ridling way of wooing!
Lov.
I oft haue bene, too, in her company;
And look'd vpon her, a whole day; admird her;
Lou'd her, and did not tell her so; lou'd still,
Look'd still, and lou'd: and lou'd, and look'd, and sigh'd;
But, as a man neglected, I came of,
Host.
Could you blame her, Sir,
When you were silent, and not said a word?
Lov.
O but I lou'd the more; and she might read it
Best, in my silence, had she bin—
Host.
As melancholique
As you are. 'Pray you, why would you stand mute, Sir?
Lov.
O thereon hangs a history, mine host.
Did you euer know, or heare, of the Lord Beaufort,
Who seru'd so brauely in France? I was his page,
And, ere he dy'd, his friend! I follow'd him,
First, i'the warres; and i'the times of peace,
I waited on his studies: which were right.
He had no Arthurs, nor no Rosicleer's,
No Knights o'the Sunne, nor Amadis de Gaule's,
Primalions, and Pantagruel's, publique Nothings:
Abortiues of the fabulous, darke cloyster,
Sent out to poison courts, and infest manners:
But great Achilles, Agamemnons acts,
Sage Nestors counsels, and Ulysses slights,
Tydides fortitude, as Homer wrought them
In his immortall phant'sie, for examples
Of the Heroick vertue. Or, as Virgil,
That master of the Epick poeme, limn'd
Pious Æneas, his religious Prince,
Bearing his aged Parent on his shoulders,
Rapt from the flames of Troy, with his yong sonne.
And these he brought to practise, and to vse.
He gaue me first my breeding, I acknowledge,
Then showr'd his bounties on me, like the Howres,
That open-handed sit vpon the Clouds,
And presse the liberality of heauen
The trust committed to me, at his death,
Was aboue all! and left so strong a tye
On all my powers! as time shall not dissolue!
Till it dissolue it selfe, and bury all!
The care of his braue heire, and only sonne!
Who being a vertuous, sweet, yong, hopefull Lord,
Hath cast his first affections on this Lady.
And though I know, and may presume her such,
As, out of humor, will returne no loue;
And therefore might indifferently be made
The courting-stock, for all to practise on,
As she doth practise on all vs, to scorne:
Yet, out of a religion to my charge,
And debt profess'd, I ha'made a selfe-decree,
Nere to expresse my person; though my passion
Burne me to cinders.
Host.
Then yo'are not so subtle,
Or halfe so read in loue-craft, as I tooke you.
Come, come, you are no Phœnix, an' you were,
I should expect no miracle from your ashes.
Take some aduice. Be still that rag of loue,
You are. Burne on till you turne tinder.
This Chambermaid may hap to proue the steele,
To strike a sparkle out o'the flint, your mistresse
May beget bonfires yet, you doe not know,
What light may be forc'd out, and from what darknes.
Lov.
Nay, I am so resolu'd, as still Ile loue
Tho' not confesse it.
Host.
That's, Sir, as it chances:
Wee'll throw the dice for it: Cheare vp.
Lov.
I doe.
| The Nevv Inne. Or, The light Heart | |