The Second Part of, If you know not me, you know no bodie VVith the building of the Royall Exchange : And the famous Victorie of Queene Elizabeth, in the Yeare 1588 |
 | 1. | Actus Prima |
| 1. |
 | The Second Part of, If you know not me, you know no bodie |  |
Actus Prima
Scena Prima.
Enter one of Greshams Factors and a Barbary Marchant.Factor.
My Master sir, requests your companie,
About confirming certaine couenants
Touching your last nights conference.
Marchant.
The Sugars.
Beleeue me, to his credite be it spoke,
Hee is a man of heedfull prouidence,
And one that by innatiue courtesie
VVinnes loue from Strangers, be it without offence,
How are his present fortunes reckoned?
Fact.
Neither to flatter nor detract from him,
He is a Marchant of good estimate,
Care how to get, and fore-cast to encrease,
(If so they be accounted) be his faults.
Mar.
They are especiall vertues, being cleare
From auarice and base extortion.
But here he comes: Good day, to M. Gresham,
You keepe your word.
Gresh.
Else should I ill deserue
The title that I weare, a Marchants tongue
Should not strike false.
Mar.
What thinke you of my proffer,
Touching the Sugar?
Gresh.
I bethought my selfe
Both of the gaine and losses incident,
And this I tak't was the whole circumstance:
It was my motion and I thinke your promise,
To get me a seald Patent from your king
For all your Barbarie Sugar at a price,
During the kings life; and for his princely loue,
I am to send him threescore thousand pounds.
Mar:
T'was so condition'd, and to that effect
His highnesse promise is alreadie past,
And if you dare giue credite to my trust,
Send but your priuate letters to your Factor,
That deales for your affaires in Barbarie,
His Maiestie shall either seale your Patent,
Or ile returne the money to your Factor.
Gresh.
As much as I desire; pray sir draw neere
And taste a cup of wine, whilst I consider
And throughly scan such accidentall doubts,
As may concerne a matter of such moment.
Mar:
At your best leysure.
Gresh:
Ile resolue you straight,
Bethinke thee Gresham, threescore thousand pounds
A good round summe: let not the hope of gaine
Draw thee to losse. I am to haue a Pattent
For all the Barbarie Sugars at a rate,
The gaine cleers halfe in halfe, but then the hazard.
My terme continues during the kings life,
The King may die before my first returne,
Then wheres my Cash? why, so the King may liue
These 40. yeares, then where is Greshams gaine:
It stands in this as in all ventures else
Doutfull, no more, ile through what ere it cost.
Within there ho.
Enter Iohn Gresham, 2, or 3. Factors.
Fact:
At hand sir, did you call?
Gresh.
How thriues our Cash? what is it wel increast?
I speake like one that must be forst to borrow.
1. Fact.
Your worships merrie.
Gresh.
Merry, tell me knaue,
Dost not thou think that three score thousand pounds,
Would make an honest Marchant try his friends?
Fact.
Yes, by my faith sir, but you haue a friend
Would not see you stand out for twise the summe.
Gresh.
Praise God for all, but what's the common rumour
Touching my bargaine with the King of Barbarie?
1. Fact.
Tis held your credit, and your Countries honour,
That being but a Marchant of the Cittie,
And taken in a manner vnprouided,
You should vpon a meere presumption
And naked promise, part with so much Cash,
VVhich the best Marchants both in Spaine and France,
Denyed to venter on.
Gresh.
Good: but withall,
what doe they thinke in generall of the Bargaine?
1. Fact.
That if the King confirme and seale your Pattent,
London will yeelde you partners ynow.
Gresh.
I thinke no lesse: Goe fit you for the sea,
I meane to send you into Barbarie.
You vnto Venice, You to Portingall,
Prouide you presently: where much is spent,
Some must be got, thrift should be prouident:
Come hether Cosin, all the rest depart.
Exeunt Factors.
Iohn.
I had as good depart too, for heele ring a peale in mine care,
T'will sound worse then a passing bell.
Gresh.
I haue tane note of your bad husbandrie,
Carelesse respect, and prodigall expence,
And out of my experience counsell you.
Iohn.
And I hope good Vncle, you thinke, I am as readie to
take good counsell, as you to giue it, & I doubt not, but to cleere,
my selfe of all obiections that foule-mouthed envie shall intimate
against me.
How can you satisfie the great complaint
Preferd against you by old Mistresse Blunt.
A woman of approued honestie.
Iohn.
That's true, her honestie hath beene prooued ofter
then once or twice: but doe you know her Vncle? are you inward
with her course of life, shee's a common midwife for trade-falne
virginitie, there are more maidenheads chargde and dischargde
in her house in a yeare, then peeces at the Artillerie
yard.
Gres.
She bring sin further proofe, that you miscal'd her.
Iohn.
I neuer cal'd her out of name, by this hand Vncle, to
my remembrance:
Gres.
No: she sayes you cald her Bawde.
Iohn.
True; and I haue known her answere too't a thousand
times; tut Vncle tis here name, and I know who gaue it her too,
by the same token her Godfather gaue her a bowd angell standing
at the doore which she hath kept time out a minde.
Gresh.
Antonio reports you loue his wife.
Iohn.
Loue, why alas, Vncle, I hold it percell of my dutie to
loue my neighbours, and should I hate his wife, no man would
hold me a fit member for a common wealth.
Gresh.
He hates you fort.
Iohn.
Why, ahlas Vncle, that's not my fault, ile loue him nerethelesse,
you know we are commanded to loue our enemies, and
though he would see me hang'd, yet will I loue his wife.
Gresh.
He told me, you bestow'd a gowne of a strumpet.
Iohn.
Why, ahlas Vncle, the poore whore went naked, and
you know the text commandes vs to cloath the naked, and
deeds of mercie be imputed to vs for faults, God helpe the elect.
Gresh.
Well, if your prodigall expences be aym'd
At any vertuous and religious end,
Tis the more tollerable, and I am proud
You can so probably excuse your selfe.
Iohn.
VVell Vncle to approoue my wordes, as indeed good
words without deeds are like your greene fig-tree without fruit.
I haue sworne my selfe to a more conformable and strikt course
of life.
Gresh.
VVell Cosin, hoping youle prooue a new man.
A new man, what else Vncle, Ile be a newe man from
the top to toe, or ile want of my will: Instead of Tennis-Court,
my morning Exercise shalbe at Saint Antlms: ile leaue Ordinaries,
and to the ende I may forsweare Dicing and Drabbing,
keepe me more short Vncle, onely allow me good apparell, good
Ragges ile stand too't are better then seuen yeares prentiship,
for theyle make a man free of any, nay of all Companies without
Indenture, Fathers coppie, or any help whatsoeuer, but I see
my error, wilde Youth must be bridled, keepe mee short good
Vncle.
Gresh.
On these presumptions ile apparel thee,
And to confirme this resolution,
I will preferre you vnto Master Hobson,
A man of a well knowne discretion.
Iohn.
Any thing good Vncle, I haue seru'd my prentiship alreadie,
but binde me againe and I shall be content, and tis but
reason neither, send me to the Conduit with the water-tankard,
ile beate Linnen, Bucks, or any thing to redeeme my negligence.
Gresh.
Your education challenge more respect.
The Factor dealt for him in France, is dead.
Iohn.
And you intend to send me in his roome,
Gresh.
I doe indeede.
Iohn.
I tis well done Vncle, and t'will not bee amisse in pollicie
to doe so: the onely way to curbe a dissolute youth as I am,
is to send him from his acquaintance, and therefore send mee
farre inough good Vncle, send mee into France and spare not,
and if that reclaime me not, giue me ore as one past all goodnes.
Gresh.
Now afore God my thoughts were much against him,
And my intent was to haue chid him roundly,
But his submissiue recantation.
Hath made me friends with him, Come follow me,
Ile doe thee good, and that immediately.
Exit.
Iohn:
Thanke you good Vncle, youle send mee into France,
all Forboone: and I doe not shew you the right tricke of a Cosin
afore I leaue England, ile giue you leaue to call me Cut, and cosen
me of my patrimonie as you haue done.
Exit.
Enter Hobsons prentises and a boy.
1. Prent.
Prethee fellow Goodman, set foorth the ware, and
Customer at the Rose and Crowne in the Poultrie, and come
againe presently.
2. Pren.
Foote I cannot, I must needes step to the Dagger in
Cheape to send a Letter into the Countrie vnto my father, stand
by, you are the yougest prentise, looke you to the shop.
VVhere be these varlets, bones a me, at Tauerne?
Knaues, villaines, spend goods, foote my Customers
Must either serue themselues, or packe vnseru'd.
Now they peepe like Italian pantelownes
Hehind an Arras, but ile start you knaues,
I haue a shooing-horne to draw on your liquor,
What say you to a peece of a salt Eele?
Come forth you hang dogs, bones a me the knaues
Fleere in my face, they know me to too well,
I talke and prate, and lay't not on their iackes,
And the proud iackes care not a figge for me:
But bones a me, ile turne another leafe.
Where haue you beene sir?
1. Pren.
An honest Customer
Requested me, to drinke a pint of wine.
Hob.
Bones a me, must your crimson throat
Be scowr'd with wine? your master's glad of beere:
But youle die banquerouts, knaues, and banquerouts all,
And where haue you beene?
2. Pren.
At breakfast with a Dagger pie sir.
Hob.
A Dagger Pie! vd's daggers death, these knaues
Set cocke a hope, but Hobson payes for all.
But bones a me, knaues either mend your manners.
Leaue Alehouses, tauernes, and the tipling mates,
Your Punkes, and cocatrices, or ile clappe ye
Close vp in Bridewell, bones of me ile doo't,
2. Pren.
Beseech you sir, pardon this first offence.
Hob.
First, bones a God, why tis your common course,
And you must needes be gusling, goe by turnes,
One to the Alehouse, and two keepe the shop.
2. Pren.
It shall be done sir, how much ware yould you haue?
Ped.
Fiue pounds worth in such Commodities,
as I bespoke last night.
1. Pren.
They are readie sorted.
Taw.
God blesse you M. Hobson.
Hob.
Bones are god, knaue, th'art welcome what's the newes
At bawdie Barnewell, and at Sturbridge Fayre?
What, haue your London wenches any trading?
Taw.
After the old sort sir, they visite the Toulebooth, and the empties
Bulring still.
Hob.
Good girles, they doe their kinde, what your packes
Good newes, a signe you bring your purses full,
And bones a God, full purses must be welcome:
Sort out their wares: welcome's your due:
Pay the old debt, and penne and incke for newe.
Taw.
VVe haue for you sir, as white as Beares teeth.
Hob.
Bones a god, knaues you are welcome, but what newes?
VVhat newes i'the Countrey? what Commodities
Are most respected with your countrie Girles?
Taw.
Faith sir, our Countrey girles are a kin to your London
Courtiers, euery month sicke of a new fashion, the horning buske
and silken bridelaces are in good request with the Parsons wife,
your huge poking sticke, and french perewig, with Chambermaides,
and waiting-gentlewomen, now your Puritans poker is
not so huge, but somewhat longer, a long slender poking sticke
is the all in all with your Suffolke Puritane, your silkband, halfe
farthingales, and chargeable Fore-parts are common, not a
wench of thirteene but weares a changeable forepart.
Hob.
An ancient wearing: ther's some changeable stuffe
Has beene a weare with women, time out of minde,
Taw.
Besides sir, many of our yong married men, haue tane
an order to weare yellow Garters, Points, & Shootyings, and tis
thought, yellow will grow a custome.
Hob:
T'as beene vsde long at London.
Taw.
And tis thought t'will come in request in the Countrey
me their husbands shall weare, or theyle misse of their
markes: then your maske, silke-lace, wash't Gloues, carnation
girdles, and buske-point sutable, as common as Coales from
New-castle, you shall not haue a Kitchin-maide scrape trenchers
without her wash't Gloues, a Darie-wench will not ride to market
to sell her Butter-milke, without her maske and her buske.
Hob.
Still a good hearing, let the countrey pay
Well for their pride, tis gratis here at London,
And that's the cause tis growne so generall:
But feede their humours, and do not spare,
Bring Countrey-money for our London ware.
Enter Gresham, and Iohn Gresham.
Gresh.
Where's M. Hobson, cry you mercie sir.
Hob.
No harme good M. Gresham, pray draw neeres
Ile but dispatch a fewe olde Customers,
And bend a present eare to your discourse.
Gresh.
At your best leysure.
Hob.
Nay my taske is done:
O M. Gresham t'was a golden world
When we were Boyes, an honest Countrey-yeoman,
Such as our fathers were, God rest their soules
VVould were white Karsie: bones a me you knaues,
Stooles for these Gentlemen, your worships welcome.
Gresh.
You know my businesse.
Hob.
About your kinsman,
He shall be welcome: beseech you Gentlemen
Lesse of your curtesie: when shall we see the Youth?
Gresh.
VVhy this is he.
Hob.
VVhich, bones a me man, which?
Gresh.
VVhy this.
Hob.
VVhich, where, what this yong gentleman!
Bones a me man, hee's not for Hobsons turne.
He lookes more like my Master then my seruant.
Gresh.
I must confesse he is a Gentleman,
And my neere kinsman: were he myne owne childe,
His seruice should be yours.
I thanke you for't,
And for your sake ile giue him entertainment
But Gentleman if you become my man,
You must become more ciuile: bones a me,
VVhat a curld pate is here? I must ha'te off,
You see my Liuerie, Hobsons men are knowne
By their Freeze Coates: and you will dwell with me,
You must be plaine, and leaue of brauerie.
Iohn.
I hope sir to put on such ciuill conformisie, as you shall
not repent my entertainment.
Hob.
Pray God it prooue so.
Gresh:
If he doe respect
an Vncles loue, let him be diligent.
Hob.
Well, M. Gresham, partly for your loue,
And chiefly to supply my present want,
Because you say your kinsman is well seene
Both in languages and factorship,
I doe intend to send him into France,
In trust both with my Marchandzies and my Cash.
Iohn.
And if I take not order to cashier that and myselfe
too, a pox of all French-farthingales.
Gresh.
How stand you minded to your Masters motion?
Iohn.
Somewhat vnwilling to leaue my acquaintance, but
good Vncle, I know you send me out of loue, and I hope t'will
be a meanes to call me home the sooner.
Gresh.
Pray God it may.
Iohn.
Ile want of my will else, Ile play a Marchants part with
you, ile take vp french Commodities, veluet kittles, and taffery
fore-parts; ile ha that I go for, or ile make halfe the hot-houses
in Deep: smoake for this tricke.
Hob.
VVhat are your bookes made euen with your accounts?
1 Pren.
I haue compar'd our wares with our receipt,
And find sir, ten poundes difference.
Hob.
Bones a me knaue,
Ten pounds in a morning: heer's the fruit
Of Dagger Pyes, and Alehouse-guslings:
Make euen your Reckonings, or Gods mother knaues,
You shall all smart for't.
Harke you fellow Goodman,
Who tooke the ten pound of the countrie Chapman
That told my master the newe fashions?
1.
Fore God not I.
3.
Not I.
Hob.
Bones a me, knaues,
I haue pa'yd soundly for my Countrey newes.
What was his name?
1.
Now afore God, I know not.
2.
I neuer saw him in the shoppe till now.
Hob.
Now bones a me, what carlesse Knaues keepe I,
Giue me the booke, what habite did he were?
1.
As I remember me, a tawnie coate.
Hob.
Art sure: then set him downe Iohn Tawnie-coate.
1.
Ten pound in trust vnto Iohn Tawnie-coate.
Hob.
Bones a God man, these knaues will begger me.
Gresh.
Birladie sir, ten pounds is too much to loose,
But ten times ten pound cannot shake your credite.
Hob.
Thanke God for all: when I came first to towne,
It would haue shooke me shrewdly: but M. Gresham,
How stands your difference with Sir Thomas Ramsey?
Are you made friends yet?
Gresh.
He is so obstinate,
That neither Iuries, nor Commissions,
Nor the intreaties of his neerest friends,
Can stoope him vnto composition.
Hob.
Tis passing strange: were Hobson in your coate,
Ere i'de consume a pennie amongst Lawyers,
Ide giu't poore people, bones a me I wold.
Gresh.
A good resolue: but sir Thomas Ramsies mind
Is of another temper, and ere Gresham
VVill giue away a tittle of his right,
The Law shall begger me.
Hob.
Bones a me, man, twill doe that quickly.
Gresh.
To preuent which course,
The Lady Ramsey hath by earnest sute,
Procur'd the reuerent Preacher Doctour Nowell,
A man well reckoned for his graue respect.
The place the Lombard, ten of clocke the houre
Appointed for the hearing of our cause.
Shall I request your friendly companie,
Hob.
VVith all my heart, both companie and purse:
Bones a me, knaues, looke better to my shoppe:
Men of our trade must weare good husbands eyes,
Mongst many Chap-men there are fewe that buyes.
My leysure now your businesse attends,
Time's wonne not lost, that's spent to make men friends.
Exeunt.
Enter Doctor Nowell, and my Lady Ramsie.
Ladie.
Good Master Doctor Nowell, let your loue
Now shew it selfe vnto me: such as they,
Men of the chiefest note within this Citie
To be at such a iarre, doth make mee blush
Whom it doth scarse concerne: you are a good man,
Take you the course in hand and make them friends,
Twill be a good dayes worke, if so it end.
D. Now.
My Lady Ramsie, I haue heard ere this
Of their contentions, their long suite in Lawe,
How by good friends they haue beene perswaded both,
Yet both but deafe to fayre perswasion
What good will my word doe with headstrong men?
Breath blowne against the winde, retures again:
Lady.
Although to Gentlemen and Cittizens,
They haue beene so rash, yet to so graue a man,
Of whom none speake but speake with reuerence,
VVhose words are gather'd in by euery eare
As flowers receiue the dew that comfort them,
They will be more attentiue: pray take it in hand,
Tis a good deede, t'will with your vertue stand.
D. Now.
To be a make-peace doth become me well,
The charitable motion good in you,
And in good sooth t'will make me wet mine eyes,
To see them euen, haue beene so long at ods.
But God must blesse my words, for mass but man.
Enter Sir Thomas Ramsie.
Lady.
I thanke you heartily, and by the houre I know.
They will be presently heere on the Lumbard,
VVhither I drew you for this intent:
And see, sir Thomas is come: pray breake with him.
D. Now.
Good day to sir Thomas Ramsie.
Ram.
M. Deane of Powles, as much to you:
Tis strange to see you here in Lumberstreet,
This place of trafficke whereon Marchants meete.
D. Now.
Tis not my custome: but sir Thomas.
Enter M. Gresham, and old Hobson.
Hob.
Come, come
Now body a me, I sweare not euery day,
You are too to much to blame: two Citizens,
Such as your selfe, and sir Thomas Ramsie are,
To beat your selues in Law sixe or seuen yeare,
Make Lawyers, Turneyes clarkes, and knaues, to spend
Your money in a brabling controuersie,
Euen like too fooles: see where the other is,
VVith our Deane of Powles, nere better met,
VVe two as Vmpiers will conclude a strife
Before the Clocke strike twelue, that now is aleuen:
Lawyers this full seuen yeare haue brabled in,
And with a cuppe or two of merry-godowne,
Make them shake hands: Is't not well said M. Deane?
D. Now.
And I could wish it as well done, M. Hobson.
Gresh.
Ile haue you both know though you are my friends,
I scorne my cause should stoope or yeele to him,
Although he be reputed Ramsie the rich.
Ram.
And Gresham shall perceiue that Ramsies purse,
Shall make him spend the wealth of Osterley,
But he shall know.
Gresh.
Know, what shall I know?
Ram.
That Ramsie is as good a man as Gresham.
Gresh.
And Gresham is as good a man as Ramsie.
Ram.
Tut, tut, tut.
Gresh
Tut in thy teeth although thou art a Knight.
Hob.
Bones a me, you are both to blame:
VVe two like friendes, come to conclude your strife,
And you like fish-wiues fall a scolding here.
How stands the difference twixt you my good friends?
Ladie.
The impatience both of the one and other,
VVill not permit to heare each other speake:
Ile tell the cause for both, and thus it is,
There is a Lordship called Osterley,
That M. Gresham hath both bought and built vpon.
Gresh.
And t'is a goodly Manour, M. Deane.
Lady.
VVhich Osterley before he dealth therein,
Sir Thomas my husband here did thinke to buy,
And had giuen earnest for it.
Ram.
Then Gresham here, deales with the Land-seller,
And buyes my bargaine most dishonestly.
Gres.
God for his mercie touch mine honesty,
Away with comprimize, with taking vp,
The Lawe shall try my cause and honestie.
Ram.
T'will proue no better then it should Gresham.
Gres.
T'will pooue as good as Ramsies, Ramsie.
Ram.
Do not I know thy rising?
Gres.
I, and I know thine
Ram.
VVhy mine was honestly.
Gresh.
And so was mine.
Hob.
Heyday, bones a me
VVas't euer seene two men to scold before?
Here's, I know thy rising, and I know thine,
VVhen as Gods blessing, that hath rais'd them both,
Am I worse because in Edwards dayes,
When Popetie went downe, I did ingrosse
Most of the Beades that were within the Kingdome,
That when Queene Marie, had renewed that Church,
They that would pray on Beades were forc't to me:
I made them stretch their purse-strings, grew rich thereby,
Beads were to me a good commoditie.
Gresh.
No matter for your beads, my right's my right.
Ram.
Yet Gresham shall well know he hath done me wrong.
Gresh.
Ther's law inough to right you, take your course.
D. Now.
Reason being made mans guide, why is't that force
Are violent passions to sweepe the soule
Into such head-long mischiefes: tis onely this,
Reason would rule, Nature a Rebell is.
You know the fire of your contention,
Hath onely cherishing and is maintain'd
From vild affections, whose strength's but thus
An extreame colde doth alter that desire:
All things that haue beginnings, haue their ends.
Your hate must haue conclusion, then be friends.
Hob.
Friends, M. Doctor Nowell, looke you heere,
Heer's M. Greshams hand.
Lady.
Ile bring the tother.
Hob.
This seuen yeare they haue beene in law together.
How much such men as they in seuen yeares spend,
Lawyres may laugh at, but let wise men iudge.
Gresh.
Friend Hobson.
Ram.
VVife Lady.
Hob.
Bones a me, ile hold you fast,
I will not haue a couple of such men
Make cackling lawyers rich, and themselues fooles,
And for a trifling cause: as I am olde Hobson.
Gresh.
Sir Thomas Ramsie.
Ram.
Master Gresham.
Hob.
Body of mee, both shall be school'd, M. D. Nowell,
You know the cause that this contention,
Is onely that he bought a peece of land
This had giuen earnest for, all Adams earth,
And Adams earth is free for Adams sonnes,
And tis a shame men should contend for it:
VVhat ere you speake shall for a sentence stand,
And being spoke, they shall shake hand in hand.
D. Now.
If I must then decide the difference,
Thus it shall bee: because that Sir Thomas Ramsie,
Had earnest giuen before you bought the Land,
Though you were not acquainted with so much,
I doe award he haue a hundred pound
Toward his charges, and for that you
Haue both payd for the Land, and built vpon it,
It shall continue yours: the money you haue spent,
Either account it lost, or badly lent.
Gresh.
Gods precious, I haue spent fiue hundred pound,
Ram.
And so haue I,
Hob.
No matter.
Had you before the law fore-seene the losse,
You had not now come home by weeping crosse:
Strifes may as well haue end twixt honest men,
Lawyers set fooles to Law, then laugh at them.
Gresh.
Fore God tis true: and now I thinke vpon it,
We might at first haue ended it by friendes,
And made our selues merry with the money:
But being done, tis done, then sir Thomas Ramsey,
Let's leaue both loosers, tis but a thousand pound,
And if you be as well content as I,
Here weele shake hands and let our anger dye.
Hob.
Shake hands, by the Marie god, sir Thomas what else,
Ram.
You shew your selues our friends, to make vs friends,
Then in good sooth ile not be obstinate.
Lady.
Nay, M. Doctor Nowell ioyne their hands,
I know the reuerent regard of you
Hath tempred both their hearts.
Gresh.
Madame, tis true: I thinke to any but so good a man,
We should haue both beene headstrong: but come.
D. Now.
VVith all my heart, long may you liue together,
As friend should be to friend, brother to brother.
Gresh.
Amen, amen, sir Thomas.
Ram.
Amen, amen, Master Gresham.
Hob.
Amen, amen, to you both.
And is not tis better then euery Terme
to trot after Lawyers?
Gresh.
Good sooth tis true, if we could thinke it so,
But tis mans nature, he desires his woe.
A storme.
Now passion of me sir Thomas, a cruell storme,
And we stay long we shall be wet to the skinne,
I doe not lik't, nay and it angers mee
That such a famous Citie as this is,
Wherein so many gallant Marchants are,
Haue not a place to meete in, but in this,
VVhere euery shoure of raine must trouble them:
I cannot tell but if I liue: lets step into the Popes head,
We shall be dropping dry if stay here:
That Marchants and their wiues, friend and their friends
Shall walke vnderneath it as now in Powles.
What day of the Month is this?
Hob.
Day M. Gresham, let me see:
I tooke a fellowes word for twentie pound
The tenth of March, the tenth of March.
Gresh.
The tenth of March, well if I liue,
Ile raise a worke shall make our Marchants say,
T'was a good showre that fell vpon that day. How now Iacke?
Enter Iohn Gresham.
Iohn.
Sir, my M. here hauing preferd me to be his Factor into France,
I am come to take my leaue of you.
Gresh.
I thanke him for his care of thee: M. Hobson,
My kinsman's come to take his leaue of me,
He tels me you are sending him for France.
Hob.
Bones a me knaue, art there yet?
I thought thou hadst been halfe way there by this.
Iohn.
I did but stay sir, to take my leaue of my Vncle.
Gresh.
O M. Hobson, he comes in a very good time,
I was bethinking me whom I might send
To fetch this hundred pound, I am set to pay
To sir Thomas Ramsey: nay, as we are friends
Weele haue all Couenants kept before we part.
Iohn.
God graunt that I may see it.
Gresh.
Here Iohn take this seal'd Ring,
Bid Timothy presently send me a hundred pound.
Iohn.
I sir.
Gresh.
I am sure he hath it ready told for thee,
Weele stay here on the Lumbard till thou comest.
Iohn.
Yes Sir.
D. Now.
Nay stay good Iohn, thou knowst my dwelling Iohn?
Iohn.
In Powles Church-yard Sir.
D. Now.
The hundred pound thou art sent for, bring it thither.
Iohn.
Yes marry will I sir.
Exit.
D. Now.
And my good friends, since that so long a strife
Hath ende by my perswasion, ile entreat,
My house may entertaine you for this time.
As God shall best be pleased, and you contented:
I keepe no ryot, nor you looke for none,
Onely my table is for euery one.
Gresh.
A cup of Sacke and welcome M. Deane,
Nature is best contented with a meane.
Exeunt.
Enter Timothy and Iohn Gresham.
Iohn.
As I told you Timothy,
You must send my Vncle straight a hundred pound:
A dines at Doctor Nowels, and gaue me in charge
To hast with the money after him.
Thimo.
You come to me Iohn for a hundred pound, I thanke
my spirituall maker I haue the charge of many hundreds of his
now Iohn: I hope Iohn you feare God.
Iohn.
Feare God, S'foot what else, I feare God and the deuill too.
Tym.
I must tell you Iohn and I know it, you haue not fed of
the spirituall food, but edified by faith and suffered the tares of
the wild affections to be burnt.
Iohn.
Foote thou wouldst not haue me make my selfe a French
Martyr, to be burnt at these yeares wouldst thou?
Tym.
I haue knowne them Iohn of our Church, haue beene
burnt for other sinnes before thy yeares.
Iohn.
I by my faith Timothy it may be you haue, for as close as
you carry your teeth together, with indeed good brother, I doe
not thinke but once in a yeare, a man might finde you quartered
betwixt the Mouth at Bishops-gare, and the preaching place in
Spittle.
Tim.
Now you talke of the Spittle, I must say in very deede
I haue beene in the Spittle.
Iohn.
It is the more like Timothy you haue beene acquainted
with the pox then.
Tim.
But if you should thinke Iohn, that I would be there to
commit, deale, or to speake more prophanely, to venture in the
way of all flesh, you doe wrong me being a brother of the faith.
Iohn.
Come right your selfe and your Master then, and send
him this one hundred pound, here's his seal'd Ring, I hope
a warrant sufficient.
Tim.
Vpon so good securitie Iohn, Ile fit me to deliuer it.
Exit
Spend it, God send mee but once to finger it, and if I
doe not make a Flanders reckoning on't, and that is as I haue
heard mad wags say, receiue it heare and reuell it away in an other
place: let me bee spit out of the roome of good fellowship,
and neuer haue so much fauour to touch the skirt of a Taffatie
peticote.
And ile not want by God, since he hath enough.
I must not let this same wainscot-face, yea & nay, heare me tho.
Enter Timothy.
Tim.
Here Iohn, accept my dutie to my Master, I must tell you
Iohn, I would not haue trusted you Iohn, without so sufficient a
discharge.
Iohn.
I am the lesse beholding vnto you, but now I hau't, because
you preach't to me vpon my demande of it, ile be so bold
to lecture to you vpon your deliuerie, Timothie you know the
Prouerbe good Timothy, That the still Sow eates al the draffe;
and no question the most smooth tongu'd fellow, the more arrant
knaue: God forbid I should call you so Timothy, yet I will
leaue this for your further remembrance.
Much cosonage, finde many a lye:
He that with yea and nay makes all his sayings,
Yet prooues a Iudas in his dealings,
Shall haue this written o're his graue,
Thy life seem'd pure, yet di'd a knaue.
Timothy.
Doe you heare Iohn, you know the Chapmans word
in London, Ile trust you but no further then I see you, you haue the
hundred pound Iohn, but for that you haue wrong'd vs that loue
to be edified, I will goe with you to my Master, and see the money
deliuered.
Iohn.
Why, a trusted me to come with't.
Timothy.
I care not by yea, and nay, ile goe by yea and nay,
I will.
Iohn.
Let me but aske thee this question, Whither dost thou
goe, in any loue to thy master, or to me?
Though my master be my master, yet you haue stur'd
my stomack.
Iohn:
I thought there was the fruit of your Puritane patience,
come let's along, and if I doe not shew your religion a trick
shall be scarse disgested with pepins or cheese, let me bee cal'd
Cut, Come along.
Exeunt.
Enter Honestie the Sergeant, and Quick.
Honestie.
Fellow Quicke, pray thee haue a care if thou canst
see Iohn the Vpholster, I must needes arrest him.
Quick.
How much is the debt?
Honestie.
Some 50. li.
Quic.
Dost thou thinke he is able to put in bayle to the action?
Honestie.
I thinke scarse ynough.
Quick.
Why then wee'le arrest him to the popes-head, call
for the best cheere in the house, first feede vpon him, and then if
he wil not come off, carry him to the counter, but if he wil stretch
some 4. or 5. li. being the sums so great he shal passe, weele make
him sweare he shall not tell he was arrested, and weele sweare to
the creditor we cannot meet with him.
Honest.
Fore God thou sayst well.
Quick.
I haue serued Sent the Perfumer, Tallow the Currier,
Quarrell the Glasier, and some three or foure more of our poore
smelts so this morning.
Enter Iohn.
Iohn.
Hart I haue cour'st thorow two or three Lanes, yet the
miching slaue followes me so close I can not giue him the slippe
for this hundred pound as God saue me now ti's in my hand i'de
rather be hang'd then part from it: Foote, t'will make a man
merry halfe a yere together in France, command wenches or any
thing: part from it quoth you, that were a iest indeed: shall a
yong man as I am, and though I say it indifferent proper, goe into
a strange countrey, and not shew himselfe what mettell hee is
made of when a comes there: I protest a very good hundred
pound, a hundred pound will goe farre in France, and when a
man hath it not of his owne, who should hee make bold withall
for it, if he may not with his Vncle; but see if that thin fac't rogue
be not come againe, I must haue a tricke for him.
Enter Tim.
Tim.
For all your fore-long too and fro, by yea and nay, ile
follow you.
Will you, there should bee Sergeants here abouts, will
you: Lord if it be thy will send mee to hit of one, and if I doe not
shew you a tricke, thou shouldst be a Sergeant by thy peering so.
Honest.
Why M. Iohn so I am.
Iohn.
Thou art happily met: I am looking for one, what's thy name?
Ho.
My name M. Iohn, I haue beene merry, at your Vncles
many a time, my name's Honestie.
Iohn.
Ifaith.
Quick.
Nay, ile assure you his name is Honestie, and I am Quick his Ycoman.
Ioh.
Honestie! who the pox gaue thee that name?
But thou must doe an office for my Vncle:
Heare Quicke, runne thou before and enter the action,
Ther's money, an action of an hundred pound
Against Timothy Thin-beard, M. Greshams Factor,
I hope I shall teach you to dog me.
Quick.
An action against Thin-beard, I, goe.
Exit.
Iohn.
Here Honestie, there's money for thy arrest,
Be sure to take good Bayle or clap him fast:
I hope I shall shew you a trick.
Honest.
Mum for that.
Iohn.
See where he is, God prosper it.
Fasten vpon him like a hungry Dog vpon a peece of meate:
And if this be not a tricke to chaste a foole,
A more knaue learne me, and ile goe to schoole.
Honest.
I arrest you Sir.
Tim:
Arrest me, thou seruant to Sathan: at whose sute?
Honest.
At your Masters, M. Greshams.
Tim.
O God for thy mercie, M. Iohn, M. Iohn.
Iohn.
Nay, nay, this 100. li. hath other worke in hand for me,
You are in the Deuils hand, and so agree.
Exit.
Tim.
My good friend, now what must become of me?
Honest.
Vnles, wee shall to the Tauerne, and drinke till you
can send for Baile, you must to the Counter.
Tim.
Is ther no difference made betwixt the faithfull and the
vnfaithfull.
Honest.
Faith very little in paying of debts: but if you be so
holy, I maruel how you run so farre behind hand With your M.
Tim.
I must confesse I owe my M. 500. li. How I came so, it
is not fit to lay the sins of our flesh open to euery eie, & you know
knowes that sometimes as soone as I haue come from Bowechurch,
I haue gone to a Baudie-house.
Honest.
Nay it appeares so, that now your M. hath smelt out your knauerie.
Tim.
Not to commit in very deed good friend, but only to see
fashions or to recreat & stir vp our drowsie appetites.
Enter Quic.
Honest.
Well here comes my fellow Quick, and vnles you wil
content vs for staying, you must along to the Counter.
Tim.
I hope you thinke The Labourer is worthie of his hire:
we will stay here at the Tauerne, and Quick I will content thee,
to carry a letter to my master, wherein I will make him a restitution
of his 500. li. by repentance, and shew him the way that
my fraile nature hath run into.
Honest.
Well, weele be pay'd by the houre.
Tim.
It will not be amisse if you buy an houre-glasse.
Exeunt.
Enter D. Nowel, Gresham, sir Tho. Ramsie, Hobson, Lady Ramsie.
Gresh.
Come M. D. Nowell, now we haue done
Our worst to your good cheere, wee'd faine be gone:
Onely we stay my kinsmans long returne,
To pay this hundred pound to sir Thomas Ramsie.
D. Now.
Then assure you, he will be heare presently:
In the meane time, I haue drawne you to this walke,
A Gallerie, wherein I keepe the Pictures
Of many charitable Citizens:
That hauing fully satisfied your bodyes,
You may by them learne to refresh your soules.
Gresh.
Are all these Pictures of good Cittizens?
D. Now.
They are, and ile describe to you some of their births,
How they bestowd their liues, and did so liue
The fruits of this life might a better giue.
Gresh.
You shall gaine more in shewing this to vs,
Then you haue showne.
Lady.
Good M. Deane, I pray you shew it vs.
This was the Picture of sir Iohn Philpot sometimes Mayor,
This man at one time, at his owne charge,
Leauied ten thousand souldiers, guarded the Realme
From the incursions of our enemies:
And in the yeare a thousand three hundred and eightie,
VVere sent to ayd the Duke of Britannie,
This sayd Iohn Filpot furnisht out foure ships
At his owne charges and did release the armor
That the poore souldiers had for victuals paw'nd.
This man did liue when Walworth was Lord Maior
That prouident, valiant, and learned Citizen,
That both attacht, and kild the traytor Tyler,
For which good seruice Walworth the Lord Maior,
This Felpot, and foure other Aldermen,
Were knighted in the field.
Thus did he liue, and yet before he di'd
Assur'd reliefe for thirteene poore for euer.
Gres:
By the marry God a worthy Citizen:
On good my Deane.
Now:
This sir Richard Whitington three times Maior,
Sonne to a Knight, and Prentise to a Mercer,
Began the Librarie of Gray-Friars in London;
And his Executors after him did build
Whittington Colledge, thirteene Almes-houses for poore men,
Repair'd S. Bartholmewes in Smithfield,
Glased the Guild-hall, and built Newgate.
Hob.
Bones of mee then I haue heard lyes,
For I haue heard he was a scullion,
And rai'sd himselfe by venture of a Cat.
Now:
They did the more wrong to the gentleman.
This sir Iohn Allen Mercer and Maior of London,
A man so graue of life that he was made
A priuie Counsellor to King Henrie the eight,
He gaue this Citie a rich Coller of gold,
That by the Maior succeeding should be worne;
Of which sir William Laxton was the first,
And is continued euen vnto this yeare,
A number more there are, of whose good deeds
This Citie florisht.
Gresh:
And we may be ashamed,
For in their deeds we see our owne disgrace,
We that are Citizens are rich as they were.
Churches for prayer, Almes-houses for the poore,
Conduits which bring vs water: all which good
We doe see and are relieu'd withall,
And yet wee liue like beasts, spend time and die,
Leauing no good to be remembred by.
Lady.
Among the Stories of these blessed men,
So many that inrich your Gallarie,
There are two womens Pictures: what were they?
D. Now.
They are two that haue deseru'd a memorie,
Worthy the note of our Posteritie:
This Agnes Foster, wife to sir A. Foster,
That fre'd a Beggar at the grate of Lud-gate,
Was after Maior of this most famous Citie,
And builded the South-side of Lud-gate vp,
Vpon which wall these Verses I haue read.
For M. Foster late Maior honestly pray,
And Agnes his Wife to God consecrate,
That of pitty this house made for Londoners in Lud. gate:
So that for lodging and water here nothing they pay,
As their Keepers shall answere at dreadfull Doomes day.
Lady.
O what a charitable deed was this!
This Aue Gibson who in her husbands life,
Being a Grocer, and a sherife of London,
Founded a free Schoole at Ratcliffe,
There to instruct three-score poore children,
Built fourteene Almes-houses for fourteene poore
Leauing for Tutors 50. li. a yeare,
And Quarterly for euery one a Noble.
Lady.
Why should nor I liue so, that being dead
My name might haue a register with theirs.
Gresh.
Why should not all of vs being wealthy men,
And by Gods blessing onely rais'd, but
Cast in our mindes how we might them exceed
In godly workes, helping of them that need.
Bones a me tis true: why should we liue,
To haue the poore to curse vs being dead?
Heauen grant that I may liue, that when I die,
Although my children laugh, the poore may cry.
Now.
If you will follow the religious path,
That these haue beat before you, you shall win heauen,
Euen in the mid-day walkes you shall not walke the street,
But widowes orisons, Laysars prayers, Orphans thankes,
Will flye into your eares, and with a ioyfull blush,
Make you thanke God that you haue done for them:
When otherwise theil fill you eares with curses,
Crying we feed on woe, you are our Nurses.
O ist not better that yong couples say,
You rais'd vs vp, then you were our decay:
And mothers tongues teach their first borne to sing,
Of your good deeds, then by the bad to wring.
Hob.
No more M. D. Nowell, no more,
I thinke these words should make a man of flint
To mend his life: how say M Greshams'
Gresh.
Fore-god they haue starred teares into my eyes,
And M. D. Nowel! you shall see
The words that you haue spoke, haue wrought effect in me.
Ladie.
And from these women I will take a way,
To guide my life for a more blessed stay.
Now.
Begin then whilst you liue, least being dead,
The good you giue in charge be neuer done,
Make your owne hands your executors, your eyes ouer-seers,
And haue this, saying euer in your mind:
Women be forgetfull, children be vnkind,
Executors be couetous, and take what they find.
Hob.
In my time I haue seene many of them.
Gresh.
Ile learne then to preuent them whilst I liue,
The good I meane to doe, these hands shall giue.
Enter Quick.
Quick.
The matter you wot of fit is done.
Gresh.
Done knaue, what's done?
Quick.
Is in hucksters handling sir, and heare he commend
him vnto you.
Mary God knaue dost tel me Riddles, what's all this?
Quic.
A thing will speake his owne minde to you,
If you please but to open the lip.
Enter Clo.
Clo.
Bee your leaue Gentlemen, I am come to smell out my
master here: Your kins-man Iohn sir, your kins-man Iohn.
Gresh.
O he has brought the hundred pound, where is he?
Clo.
It appeares by this, the matter is of lesse waight.
Gresh.
What more paper!
Fellow, what hast thou brought me here, a recantation?
Clo.
It may be so for he appeares in a white sheet.
Quick.
Indeed he seemes sorry for his bad life.
Gresh.
Bad life, bad life knaue, what meanes all this?
M. D. Nowell, pray read it for me,
And ile read that my kins-man Iohn hath sent:
Where is he knaue?
Clo.
Your worship is no wiser then you should be, to keepe
any of that cote.
Gresh.
Knaue thou mean'st.
Clo.
Knaue I meane sir, but your kins-man Iohn,
That by this time's well forward on his way.
Gresh.
Hey-day, what haue we here, knauery as quick as Eeles?
Weele more of this.
Clo.
You were best let me helpe you hold it sir.
Gresh.
VVhy knaue, doost thinke I cannot hold a paper.
Clo.
Helpe will do no hurt for if the knauery be as quicke as
an Eele, it may chance to deceiue you.
I am a Marchant made by chance,
And lacking coyne to venture:
Your hundred pound's gone toward France,
Your Factor's in the Counter.
Quick.
No sir, he is yet but in the Tauerne at counter gate,
but he shall soone be in if you please.
Gresh.
Away knaue, let me read on.
My father gaue me a portion,
You keepe away my due:
I haue payd my selfe a part to spend,
Here's a discharge for you.
D. Now.
Your Factor Timothy Thin beard writes to you,
Who as it seemes is arrested at your sute.
Gresh.
How, at my sute!
D. Now.
And heare confesseth by vsing bad companie,
He is run behind hand fiue hundred pound.
And doth intreat you would be good to him.
Gresh.
How, run behind hand fiue hundred pound,
And by bad companie: M. Deane of Powles,
He is a fellow seemes so pure of life,
I drust haue trusted him with all I had had.
D. Now.
Here is so much vnder his owne hand.
Gresh.
Ha, let me see, who set you to arrest him?
Quick.
Why your kins-man Iohn sir, your kins-man Iohn.
Gresh.
He, ha, infaith I smell the knauerie then:
This knaue belike mistrusting of my kinsman,
VVould come along to see the money giuen me:
Mad Iacke hauing no tricke to put him off,
Arrests him with a Sergeant at my sute,
There went my hundred pound away: this Thin-beard then
Knowing himselfe to haue playd the knaue with me,
And thinking I had arrested him indeed,
Confesseth all his trickes with yea, and nay:
So her's fiue hundred pound come, one runne away.
Hob.
Bones a me, M. Gresham, is my man Iohn
Gone away with your hundred pound?
Clo.
Faith it appeares so by the acquittance that I brought.
Gresh.
No matter M. Hobson, the charge you trust him with,
Ile see he shall discharge, I know he is wilde,
Yet I must tell you ile not see him suncke:
And afore-god it hath done my heart more good,
The knaue had wit to doe so mad a tricke,
Then if he had pofited me twice so much.
Ram.
He euer had the name of mad Iacke Gresham.
Gresh.
Is the more like his Vncle, Sir Thomas Ramsie
When I was yong I doe remember well,
I was as very a knaue as he is now.
Sirra, bring Thin-beard hither to me, and sir Thomas Ramsie,
Ha ha, mad Iack, Gramercie for this slight,
This hundred pounds makes me thy Vncle right.
Exeunt.
Enter Iohn Tawnicote.
Taw.
I sure tis in this Lane, I turned on the right hand comming
from the Stockes, nay, though there was master carles, man
carels, and all careles, ile still be honest Iohn, and scorne to take
any mans ware but ile pay them for it: I warrant they thinke me
an arrant knaue, for going away and not paying, and in my conscience
the master cudgeld the men, and the men the master, and
all about me, when as God saue me I did it innocently. But sure
this is the Lane, there's the VVindmill, there's the Dogs head
in the pot, and her's the Fryer whipping the Nuns arse: ti's
here about sure.
Enter in the shop 2. of Hobsons folkes, and opening the shoppe.
1.
Come fellow Crack, haue you sorted vp those wares?
Mark't them with 54. they must be pack't vp.
2.
I haue don't an houre agoe: haue you seal'd vp
My masters Letter to his Factor Iohn Gresham?
It is at Deepe in France to send him Matches,
For he must vse them at Bristow faire.
1.
I, and the Poste receiued it two houres since.
Taw.
Sure it is here about, the kennel was on my right hand,
and I thinke in my conscience I shall neuer haue the grace of
God and good lucke, if I doe not pay it: Gods foot, looke here,
looke here, I know this is the shop by that same stretch-halter,
O my masters, by your leaue good fellowes.
1.
You are welcome sir, you are welcome.
Taw.
Indeed that's the common saying about London, if men
bring money with them.
1.
O sir, money customers to vs are best welcome.
Taw.
You say well, so they should be, come turne o're your
bookes, I am come to pay this same ten pound.
1.
And we are ready to receiue money: what might we call
your name?
Taw.
Why my name is Iohn Good-fellow, I hope I am not ashamed
of my name.
Your Kin are the more beholding to you, fellow Cracke
turne o're the Callender, and looke for Iohn Good-fellow.
2.
VVhat comes it to?
Tawnie.
Tenne pound.
1.
You will haue no more wares with you, will you sir.
Taw.
Nay prethee not too fast, let's pay for the old before we
talke of any new.
2.
Iohn Good-fellow, fellow Nimble-chaps, here's no such name
in all our booke.
1.
I thinke thou art mop-ey'd this morning, giue me the booke,
Letter I, Letter I, Letter It when had you your ware?
Taw.
I had it some ten dayes agoe.
1.
Your name's Iohn Good-fellow you say, Letter I, Letter I,
Letter I: You doe not come to mocke vs, doe you. Letter I, Letter
I, Letter I. By this hand if I thought you did, I would knocke
you about the eares afore wee parted fellow Cracke, get mee a
Cudgell ready; Letter I, Letter I Letter I: Foote here's no
such name in all our Booke. Doe you heare fellow are you
drunke this morning, to make vs looke for moone-shine in the
water?
Taw:
Fut, art not thou drunke this morning, canst not receiue
the money that's due to thee? I tell thee I had ten pounds worth
of ware here.
1.
And I tell thee Iohn Goodfellow, here's no such name in our
booke, nor no such ware deliuered.
Taw:
Gods precious, there's a iest indeed, so a man may bee
sworn-out of himself, had not I ten pounds worth of ware here?
2.
No Goodman goose, that you had not.
Taw:
Hyday, here's excellent fellowes, are able to make their
maisters hornes grow through his head in a month, they cannot
only carelesly deliuer away his ware, but also they will not take
money for it when it comes.
1.
Doe you heare Hoyden, and my master were not in the next
roome, Ide knocke you about cares for playing the knaue with
vs, ere you parted.
Taw:
By the masse I thinke your master had more need knock
you about the eares, for playing the Iackes with him, ther's your
ten pounds, tell it out with a wanion, and take it for your pains.
Fut, here's a mad slaue indeed will giue vs ten pound
in spight of our teethes.
2.
Fellow Nimble Chaps, alas let the poore fellow alone, it appear's
he is besides himselfe.
Taw:
By the masse, I thinke you will sooner make your master
starke mad, if you play thus with euerie bodie.
Enter old Hobson.
Hobs:
Hyday, bones a mee, here's lazy knaues.
Past eight a clocke, and neither ware sorted,
Nor shop swept.
Taw:
Good morrow to you sir, haue you any more stomacke
to receiue money, than your men haue this morning?
Hob:
Money is welcome chaffer, welcome good friend,
Welcome good friend.
Taw:
Here's mounsier malapart your man, scorns to receiue it.
Hob:
How knaues, thinke scorne to receiue my money?
Bones a mee growne proud, proud knaues, proud.
1.
I hope we know sir you doe not vse to bring vp your seruants
to receiue money vnlesse it be due vnto you.
Hob.
No bones a me knaues, not for a million:
Friend, come to pay me money, for what, for what,
For what come you to pay me money?
Taw.
VVhy Sir, for ware I had some moneth agoe,
Being Pins, Points, and Laces,
Poting stickes for yong wiues, for yong wenches glasses,
Ware of all sorts which I bore at my backe
To sel where I come, with what do you lack, what do you lack?
What doe you lacke?
Hob.
Bones a me a merry knaue: what's thy name?
Taw.
My name sir is Iohn Good-fellow,
An honest poore Pedler of Kent.
Hob.
And had ten pound in ware of me, a moneth agoe:
Bones giue me the bookes, Iohn Good-fellow of Kent.
Taw.
O sir, Nomine & natura, by name and nature,
I am as well knowne for a good-fellow in Kent,
As your Cittie Summer's known for a knaue,
Come sir will you be ttelling,
Tel me no tellings: bones-of-me here's no such matters
Away knaue away, thou owest me none, out of my doores.
Taw.
How, owe you none say you! this is but a tricke to try
my honestie now.
Hob.
There's a groat, goe drinke a pint of Sacke,
Comfort thy selfe thou art not well in thy wits;
God forbid, pay me ten pound not due to me.
Taw.
Gods dickins here's a iest indeed, master mad, men mad,
and all mad, here's a mad houshold: doe you heare M. Hobson,
I doe not greatly care to take your groat, and I care as little to
spend it, yet you shall know I am Iohn, honest Iohn, and I will not
be out fac't of my honesty, here I had ten pounds worth of ware,
and I w'll pay for it.
Hob.
Nimble-chaps, call for help Nimble-chaps,
Bones of me the man begins to raue.
2.
Master I haue found out one Iohn Tawnie-cote,
Had ten pounds worth of ware a moneth agoe.
Taw.
Why that's I, that's I: I was Iohn Tawnie-cote then,
Though I am Iohn Gray-cote now.
Hob.
Iohn Tawnie-cote! welcome Iohn Tawnie-cote.
Taw.
Foot doe you thinke ile be out fac't of my honestie?
Hob.
A stoole for Iohn Tawnie-cote, sir good Iohn Tawnie-cote.
Honest Iohn Tawnie-cote, welcome Iohn Tawnie-cote.
Taw.
Nay, ile assure you we are honest all the generation of vs,
There t'is to a Doyt I warrant it, you need not tell it after mee,
Foot doe you think ile be out sac't of mine honestie?
Hob.
Thou art honest Iohn, honest Iohn Tawnie-cote:
Hauing so honestly pay'd for this,
Sort vp his packe straight worth twentie pound,
Ile trust thee honest Iohn, Hobson will trust thee:
And any time, the ware that thou doost lacke,
Money or money not, ile stuffe thy packe.
Taw.
I thanke you Master Hobson, and this is the fruit of honestie.
Enter a Purseuant.
Pur.
Be your leaue M. Hobson, I bring this fauour to you,
My royall Mistresse Queene Elizabeth,
Hath sent to borrow a hundred pound of you.
How, bones a mee, Queene know Hobson, Queene know Hobson?
And send but for one hundred pound. Friend come in
Come in friend, shall haue two, Queene shall haue two:
If Queene know Hobson, once her Hobsons purse,
Must be free for her she is Englands Nurse:
Come in good friend, ha, Queene know Hobson,
Nay come in Iohn wee'le dine together too.
Taw.
Make vp my packe and ile along from you
Singing merrily on the way,
Poynts, Poynts, Gloues, and Purses,
Pokingsticks, and blacke Iet-rings,
Cambricks, lawnes, and pretie things:
Come maydes and buy my backe doth croke,
I haue all that you want: what doe you lacke?
VVhat doe you lacke?
Exeunt.
Enter Gresham and Sword-bearer.
Gresh.
Our Citties Sword-bearer and my very good friend,
VVhat haue our honourable Court of Aldermen
Determin'd yet shall Gresham haue a place,
To erect this worthy building to his name,
May make the Cittie speake of him for euer.
Sword.
They are in earnest counsell sir about it.
Gresh.
Be you my Agent too and fro to them,
I know your place and will be thankfull to you:
Tell them I waite here in the Maiors Court,
Beneath in the Sheriffes Court my workemen waite
In number full a hundred, my Frame is ready,
All onely stay their pleasure, then out of hand
Vp goes my worke, a credite to the Land.
Sword.
I shall be dutifull in your request.
Exit.
Gresh.
Doe good M. Sword-bearer, now when this worke is rais'd,
It shall be in the pleasure of my life,
To come and meet our Marchants at their houre,
And see them in the great storme that is
VValke dry, and in a worke I rais'd for them:
Or fetch a turne within my vpper walke,
VVithin which square I haue ordered Shoppes shall bee
Of neat but necessariest Trades in London.
T'will doe me good to see shops with faire wiues
Sit to attend the profit of their husbands:
Yong maides brought vpyong men as prentises.
Some shall prooue masters and speake in Greshams praise,
In Greshams worke we did our fortunes raise.
For I dare say both Countrey and the Court,
For wares shall be beholding to this worke.
Enter Sword bearer, Lord Mayor, and Sheriffes.
Sword.
M. Gresham,
Thus sends the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen.
Ram.
Or rather come to bring the newes our selfe:
We haue determin'd of a place for you
In Corne-hill, the delightfull of this Cittie,
Where you shall raise your Frame: the Cittie at their Charge
Hath bought the houses and the ground,
And payd for both three thousand fiue hundred three & twentie pound;
Order is giuen the houses shall be sold,
To any man will buy them and remooue them,
Shirife.
Which is already done, being fourescore housholds,
Were sold for 478. pound.
The plot is also plain'd at the Citties charges,
And wee in name of the whole Cittizens,
Doe come to giue you full possession
Of this our purchase, whereon to build a Burse,
A place for Marchants to assemble in,
At your owne charges.
Gresh.
M Shrife ile doo't, and what I spend therein,
I scorne to lose day, neglect is a sinne:
VVhere be my worke men?
Enter workemen.
Work.
Here, here with trowell and tooles ready at hand.
Gresh.
Come fellowes, come:
Enter D. Nowell and Hobson.
VVe haue a Frame made, and we haue roome
To raise it: but M. D. Nowell, and M. Hobson,
VVe haue your presence in a happie time,
This seuenth of Iune we the first stone will lay
Of our new Burse, giue vs some Brickes:
Here's a bricke, here's a faire Soueraigne,
I laid the first stone with'a peece of gold,
Hee that loues Gresham follow him in this,
The gold we lay, due to the workemen is.
Worke.
O God blesse M. Gresham, God blesse M. Gresham.
Ram.
The Mayor of London M. Gresham followes you:
Vnto your first this second I doe fit,
And lay this peece of gold a toppe of it.
Shri.
So doe the Sheriffes of London after you.
Hob.
And bones of me, old Hobson will be one,
Here's fellowys there's my gold giue me a stone.
Work.
God forbid a man of your credite should want stones
D. Now.
Is this the Plot sir of your worke in hand?
Gresh.
The whole Plot both of forme and fashion.
D. Now.
In sooth it will be a good edifice,
Much Art appeares in it: in all my time
I haue not seene a worke of this neat forme:
VVhat is this vaultage for, is fashioned here?
Gresh.
Stowage for Marchants ware and strangers goods,
As either by exchange or otherwayes are vendable.
D. Now.
Here is a middle round and a farre space,
The round is greater, and the space
Seemes open: your conceite for that?
Gresh.
The grates giue light vnto the Cellerage,
Vpon the which ile haue my friends to walke,
When heauen giues comfortable raine vnto the earth:
For that I will haue couered.
D. Now.
So it appears.
Gresh.
This space that hides not heauen from vs,
Shall be so still, my reason is,
Ther's Summers heat, as well as winters colde,
And I allow and here's my reason for't,
Tis better to be bleak't by winters breath,
Then to be stifled vp with Summers heat:
In cold weather walke drie and thicke together,
And euery honest man warme one another:
In Summer then when too much heat offends,
Take aire a Gods name Marchants or my friends.
D. Now.
And what of this part that is ouer head?
M. Deane in this:
There is more ware there then in all the rest,
Here like a parish for good Cittizens
And their faire wiues to dwell in, ile haue shoppes
Where euery day they shall become themselues
In neat attire, that when our Courtiers
Shall come in traines to pace old Greshams Burse,
They shall haue such a girdle of chaste eyes,
And such a globe of beautie round about:
Ladies shall blush to turne their vizards off,
And Courtiers sweare they ly'd when they did scoffe.
D. Now.
Kind M. Gresham this same worke of yours,
Will be a Tombe for you after your death,
A benefit to Tradesmen and a place
VVhere Marchants meet their trafficke to maintaine,
Where neither could shall hurt them, heat, nor raine.
Gresh.
O M Nowell I did not forget
The troublesome storme we had in Lumbar-steet,
That time Sir Thomas and I were aduersaries,
And you and M. Hobson made vs friends.
I then did say, and now ile keepe my word,
I saw a want and I would helpe afford:
Nor is my promise giuen you when you shew'd
That rancke of charitable men to vs,
That I would follow their good actions
Forgot with me, but that before I die,
The world shall see Ile leaue like memorie.
A blasing Starre.
Hob.
Fore-God my Lord, haue you beheld the like!
Looke how it streakes, what doe you thinke of it?
Shir.
Tis a strange Comet M. Hobson,
My time to my remembrance hath not seene
A sight so wonderfull. M. D. Nowell,
To iudge of these things your experience
Exceedeth ours, what doe you hold of it?
For I haue heard that Meteors in the ayre,
Of lesser forme, lesse wonderfull then these,
Rather fore-tell of danger's imminent,
Then flatter vs wish future happinesse.
Art may discourse of these things none can iudge
Directly of the will of heauen in this,
And by discourse thus far I hold of it.
That this strange starre appearing in the North,
And in the constellation of Cassiopey,
VVhich with three fixed starres commixt to it,
Doth make a Figure Geometry call,
Lozengewise cal'd of the learned Rombus,
Conducted with the hourely Moone of heauen,
And neuer altred from the fixed sphere,
Fore-tels such alteration that my friends,
Heauen grant with this first sight our sorrow ends.
Hob.
God, will be done M. Deane, hape what hap will,
Death doth not feare the good man but the ill.
Gresh.
VVell said M Hobson.
Lets haue a day, that if death come to morrow
Hee's rather messenger of ioy then sorrow.
Now sir what newes from Barbarie?
Enter a Factor.
Fact.
Vnwelcome newes sir, the King of Barbarie is slaine.
Gresh.
Ha, slaine by treason or by warre.
Fact.
By warre, in that renowned Battell,
Swift Fame desires to carry through the world:
The Battle of Alcasar, wherein two Kings
Besides this King of Barbarie was slaine,
Kings of Moroco and of Portugale,
With Stewkeley that renowned Englishman
That had a spirit equall with a King,
Mad fellow with these Kings in war-like strife,
Honor'd his Countrey and concluded life.
Gresh.
Could newes birladie, the venture Gentlemen
Of threescore thousand pound with that dead King,
Lies in a hazard to be wonne or lost:
In what estate consists the Kingdome now?
Fact.
In peace, and the succeeding happie,
Was crown'd then King when I tooke ship from thence.
Gresh.
To that King then be Messenger from vs,
And by the sound of Trumpet summon him:
Say that thy Master and a London Marchant,
Confirm'd by the late King vnto our selfe,
That for the summe of three-score thousand pound,
The trafficke of his Sugars should be mine.
If he refuse the former bargaine made,
Then freely claime our money that we lent:
Say that our coyne did sted the former King,
If he be Kind we haue as much for him.
Hob.
By the Marie-god it was a dangerous day,
Three Kings beside yong Stewkeley slaine:
Ile tell you my Lord Maior what I haue seene
When sword and bucklers were in question,
I haue seene that Stewkeley beat a street before him,
He was so familliar growne in euety mouth,
That if it happened any fighting were,
The question straight was, was not Stewkely there.
Bones a me he would hew it. Now, what newes with you?
Enter a Boy.
Boy.
Here is a Letter sent you from Iohn Gresham.
Hob.
O an answer of a Letter that I sent,
To send mee Matches against Bristow faire,
If then any were come.
Boy:
I cannot tell Sir well what to call it, but in steed of matches
of ware, when you reade your Letter, I beleeue you will find
your Factor hath matcht you.
Hob.
VVhat's here, what's here.
Read the Letter.
As neare as I could gesse at your meaning, I haue laboured to furnish
you, and haue sent you 2. thousand pounds worth of Match.
Boy.
Faith M. neuer chafe at it, for if you cannot put it away
for Match, it may be the hang-man will by some of it for halters.
Hob.
Bones a me, I sent for matches of ware, fellowes of
ware.
Boy.
And Match being a kinde of ware, I thinke your Factor
hath match't you.
Hob.
The blasing Starre did not appeare for nothing:
I sent to be sorted with matches of ware,
And in a time when ther's no vent for it.
VVhat doe you thinke on't Gentlemen,
I little thought Iack would haue seru'd me so.
Gresh.
Nay M. Hobson grieue not at Iack's crosse,
My doubt is more and that I laugh at lesse.
Exeunt.
Enter 2. Lords.
1. Lord.
You haue trauel'd sir, how do you like this building?
Trust me it is the goodliest thing that I haue seene,
England affords none such.
2. Lord.
Nor Christendome:
I might say all the world has not his fellow.
I haue been in Turkies great Constantinople,
The Marchants there meet in a goodly temple,
But haue no common Burse in Rom, but Rome's
Built after the manner of Franckeford, and Emden:
There where the greatest Marts and meeting places
Of marchants are haue streets and pent-houses,
And as I might compare them to themselues,
Like Lumber-street before this Bursse was built.
Enter sir Thomas Ramsie.
1. Lord.
I haue seene the like in Bristow.
Ram.
Good morrow to your honours.
2. Lord.
Thankes to my good Lord Major.
VVe are gazing here of M. Greshams worke.
Ram.
I thinke you haue not seene a goodlier Frame.
2. Lord.
Not in my life, yet I haue been in Venice,
In the Realto there called S. Markes,
T'is but a bable if compar'd to this.
The nearest that which most resembles this,
Is the great Burse in Anwerpe, yet not comparable
Either in height or widnesse: the faire Sellerage,
Or goodly shoppes aboue: O my Lord Major,
This Gresham hath much grac't your Cittie London,
His fame will long out-liue him.
1. Lord.
It is reported you sir Thomas Ramsie are as rich as he.
This should incite you to such noble workes,
To eternize you.
Your Lorship pleases to be pleasant with me,
I am the meanest of a many men
In this faire Cittie, M. Greshams fame
Drawes me as a spectator amongst others,
To see his cost, but not compare with it.
1. Lord.
And it is cost indeed.
2. Lord.
But when to fit these emptie roomes about here,
The pictures grauen of all the English Kings
Shall be set ouer and in order plac'st,
How glorious will it then be?
1. Lord.
Admirable!
Ram.
These very Pictures will surmount my wealth.
1. Lord.
But how will M. Gresham name this place?
2. Lord.
I heard my L. of Lecester to the Queene
Highly commend this worke, and she then promis'd
To come in person and heare christen it,
It cannot haue a better God-mother.
This Gresham is a royall Cittizen.
Ram.
He feasts this day the Russian Ambassadour,
I am a bidden Guest:
Where if it please you.
1. Lord.
Good sir Thomas,
VVe know what you would say, VVe are his Guests
Inuited two: yet in our way we tooke
This wonder worth our paynes, it is our way
To Bishop-gate to M. Greshams house,
Thether so please you wee'l associate you.
Enter Gresham leading in the Ambassadour, Musick, and a Banquet serued in: the Ambassadour set: Enter Sir Tho. Ramsie, the 2. Lords, my Lady Ramsie the Weights in Sergeants gowns with one Interpreter.
Gresh.
Lords all at once welcome, welcome at once,
You come to my new buildings vp sitting,
It hath beene long in labour now deliuer.
And up; anon weele haue a health to it.
Dooth not our Language vnderstand: Interpreter,
Say that the wee bidde him wel-come.
Inter.
The Prince speakes Latine,
And in that language weele interpret for him:
Salutem tibi optat & adicentum tuum grauissume iste Londinensis.
Amb.
Istum libens audio, agesilli meo nomine Ex
animo gratias, funde quod bibamus.
Inter.
He gladly thankes you for his royall wel-come
And drinkes to you.
Gresh.
We vnderstand that signe.
Come let our full crown'd cups o'reflow with wine,
Wel-come againe faire Lords.
2. Lord.
Thankes M. Gresham.
VVe haue beene viewing of your workes.
Gresh.
My Burse how doe you like it Lord,
It is a pretie bable.
2. Lo.
Tis a faire worke.
Her Maiestie intends to name the place.
Gresh.
She doth her seruant Gresham too much grace,
It will be pretie when my Pictures come
To fill those emptie roomes, if that holdes,
That ships rich is worth her waight in gold.
1. Lo.
It will be rare and famous.
Gresh.
VVhat was it that the Russian whispered?
Inter.
He aske me what interpreter the Queene
VVould in his Embasse imploy.
Giesh.
None, tell him none.
For though a woman, she is a rare Linguist,
VVhere other Princes vse Interpreters,
She propria voce, I haue some Latin too:
She of her selfe heares all their Embassies,
And herselfe answers them without Interpreter,
Both Spanish, Latin, French, and Greeke,
Dutch, and Italian, so let him know:
My Lord of Lecester sent me word last night,
And I am prouder on't then on my building,
The seuerall Ambassadors then will heare,
And them in person answere.
2. Lord.
T'is most true.
Enter a Gentleman wispering to sir Thomas Ramsie.
Gresham.
The Russian with the Frence.
What would that Gentleman sir Thomas?
Ram.
He is a Marchant and a Ieweller:
Mongst other stones he saith he hath a Pearle
Orient and round, waighing so many carets
That it can scarse be valewed: the French king,
And many other Dukes haue for the riches
And prize refus'd to buy it: now he comes,
To offer it to this Ambassadour.
Gresh.
Shew him the Pearle Interpreter:
The Lord Ambassadour.
Inter.
Mercator quidem & aurifex spectandum, tibi profert
Gëmam domine serenissime.
Amb.
Et pulchra & principe digna interroga quanti indicat?
Inter.
He commends it to be both rich and faire,
And desires to know how you vallew it.
Mar.
My prise sir, is fifteene hundred pound.
Amb.
Quanti valet?
Inter.
Mille quin gentis minis,
Amb.
Non, non nimis peceara est ista Gemma,
Inter.
He saith it is too deare, he will not buy it.
Gresh.
I will peruse your pearle, is that your prise?
Mar.
I cannot bate one crowne and gaine by it.
Enter a Marriner.
Gresh.
Wee'l not be accessarie to your Losse,
And yet consider all things some may thinke vs
To be but bare of treasure at this time,
Hauing disburst so much about our workes:
Yet if our ships and Trade in Barbarie
Hold currant we are well: what newes from Sea,
How stands my ships?
Mar.
Your ships in which all the Kings pictures were,
From Brute vnto our Queene Elizabeth:
Is wrack't and lost.
Gresh.
The Losse, I way not this:
Onely it greeues me that my famous building,
Shall want so rich and faire an ornament.
L. Ram.
It touches all the Cittie; for those pictures
Had doubly grac't this royall edifice.
Ram.
Me thinkes the ships losse most should trouble you.
Gresh.
My ships but wealth, why we haue wealth;
The pictures were the grace of my new Burse,
So I might them in their true for me behold,
I car'd not to haue lost their waights in gold.
1. Lord.
A noble Citizen.
Enter a Factor.
Gresh.
Our Factor, what good newes from Barbarie?
What sayes the King, speake, didst thou sommon him?
Or hast thou brought my threescore thousand pound?
Or shall I haue the Sugars at that rare?
If so, new marble Pictures weele haue wrought,
And in a new ship from beyond-sea brought.
Fact.
The King that in the regall chaire succeedes
The King late dead I summon'd, and demaunded
Either your money tendred, or the Sugars
After the rate propos'd, hee denied both
Alleaging though he was successiue heire,
He was not therefore either tide to pay
The late Kings debts, nor yet to stand vnto
Vnnecessarie bargaines: notwithstanding
To gratifie your loue, the King hath sent you
As presents, not as satisfaction:
A costly dagger, and a paire of slippers,
And there's all for you three-score thousand pound.
Gresh.
Birlady a deare bargaine.
1. Lord.
I feare me this will plague him, a strange crosse,
How will he take this newes, losse vpon losse.
2. Lord.
Nay, will it not vndoe him, doth he not wish
his buildings in his purse.
Gresh.
A dagger that's well,
A payre of slippers come vnto my shooes,
And payd me all in slippes, then Hoboyes play,
On slippers ile daunce all my care away:
Fit, fit, he had the iust length of my foot.
You may report Lords when you come to Court,
You Gresham saw a paire of slippers weare
Cost thirtie thousand pound.
1, Lo.
Somewhat too deare.
Nor yet for all this treasure we haue lost,
Repents it vs one penny of our cost.
2. Lo.
As royall in his vertues as his buildings.
Ram.
These losses would haue kild me.
Gresh.
Ieweller,
Let's see thy pearle: goe pound it in a Morter,
Beate it to powder then returne it me,
What Dukes, and Lordes, and these Ambassadours
Haue euen before our face refusd to purchase
As of too high a price to venture on,
Gresham a London Marchant here will buy.
VVhat is it broken small? fill vs some wine,
Fuller, yet fuller till the brim or'e-flows,
Here 16000. pound at one clap goes,
Instead of Sugar, Gresham drinkes this pearle
Vnto his Queene and Mistresse: pledge it Lords,
Who euer saw a Marchant brauelier fraught,
In dearer slippers or a richer draught?
L. Ram.
You are an honour to all English Merchants
As bountifull as rich, as Charitable
As rich as renowned as any of all.
Gresh.
I doe not this as prodigall of my wealth,
Rather to shew how I esteeme that losse
Which cannot be regain'd, A London Marchant
Thus tread on a kings present: Ieweller,
My Factor shall deliuer you your money.
And Lords so please you but to see my Schoole,
Of the seuen learned liberall Sciences,
Which I haue founded here neere Byshops-gate,
I will conduct you. I will make it Lords
And giu't from my reuenewes maintenance.
W'are not like those that are not liberall
Till they be dying, what wee meane to giue,
Wee wil bestow, and see done whilst we liue.
Attendance, come, th'ambassadour, guesse all,
Your welcom's great, albeit your cheer's but small
Exeunt.
Enter Tawnicote with a speed.
Taw.
Hard world, when men dig liuing out of stones,
As wretched miserable I am inforc't:
And yet there liues more pittie in the earth,
Then in the flint-bosomes of her children,
For shee's content to haue her aged brest
Mangled with matrocks, rent and torne with spades,
To giue her children and their children bread,
When man more flinty then her stonic Ribbes
That was their mother, neither by intreates,
Teares, nor complaints will yeeld them sustinance,
But tis our ages fault the mightier,
Teare liuing out of vs, we out of her.
Enter Hobson in his gowne and slippers.
Hob.
Mother a me what a thick myst is here:
I walked abrod to take the mornings ayre,
And I am out of knowledge, bones a me
What Meads, what Inclosures haue we here?
How now old Hobson, doat in thine old age?
A foole a threescore, whether wilt thou wit?
I crost the water in my gowne and slippers,
To see my rents and buildings of the Bancke-side,
And I am slipt cleane out of ken, fore-god
A wooll-gathering.
Taw.
Either mine eare's deceiued,
Or I should know that tongue: tis so indeed,
Each word he speakes makes my torne heart to bleed.
Hob.
Ha, ha, I smile at my owne foolerie,
Now I remember mine old Granmother
Would talke of Fayries and Hobgoblins,
Make them milke their M. neighbours kine,
And ten to one this Robin Godfellow,
Tawnicote digges.
Hath led mee vp and downe the mad mans maze.
I heare some companie, for shame all whist,
Sit thee downe Hobson a right man, in the mist.
Taw.
Tis he alas, when the rough hand of want
Hath cast vs downe, it loades vs with mishaps:
I broke my day with him, O had that fatall houre
Broken me heart: and Villaine that I was,
Neuer so much as write in my excuse,
And he for that default hath sew'd my bill,
And with an execution is come downe
To seaze my houshold stuffe, imprison me,
And turne my wife and children out of dores,
What shall I flie him? no hee's pitifull:
Then with my teares I will importune him:
God saue you M. Hobson.
Hob.
Hobson, Bones a mee,
VVhat voyce is that? art thou a man, or friend?
Tell me if thou beest that Will of the wispe,
That leadst me this wild Morice: I coniure thee
To leaue mee to my selfe.
Tim.
O M. Hobson,
As euer you haue beene a poore mans friend,
Continue still so, Insult not or'e thy fortunes,
Hob.
I am in the mist, what art thou, speake?
Tim.
A Debter of your worships.
Hob.
A Debter of mine, mother of me thou lyest,
I know thee not, nor doe I know this place:
If thou owest me any thing, pay mee with thy loue,
And if thou beest acquainted in these woods,
Conduct me to some Towne, or direct roade
That leads to London, and ile here discharge thee
Of debts and duties, and beside impart
Somewhat to cherish thee.
Taw.
What should I thinke?
He knowes mee, and for feare I should escape him,
O Master Hobson tho not for mine owne,
Yet for my wife and my poore childrens sakes,
If your intent bee to imprison mee,
Vpon my knees I doe intreat you spare mee:
The goods you trusted mee withall, I haue not wasted
In royot and excesse, but my kind heart,
Seeing my helpelesse neighbours in distresse,
By reason of the long and extreame dearth,
Some I relieued, some trusted with my goods,
Whose pouerties not able to repay.
Then beare with me a little, your rich store
Hath sau'd my life and fed a hundreth more.
Hob.
Now bones a mee another Tawniecote:
What's thy name Knaue?
Taw.
Iohn Rouland sir,
Hobson.
Bones a mee!
I thought as much: art not thou Tawnicote?
Taw.
I am the man whom you cal'd Tawniecote.
Hob.
And I the Hobson that will pitie thee:
Now bones a mee, what makest thou with a spade?
Taw.
This spade alas, tis all the wealth I haue,
VVhen my poore wife and children cry for bread,
They still must cry till these haue purchas'd it:
They must goe naked till these hardened hands,
VVhen the cold breth of VVinter strikes on them,
Till these haue earn'd it.
Hob.
Now alas good soule,
It melts my heart to heare him, and mine eyes
Could weepe for companie, what earn'st a day?
Taw.
Little God knowes:
Though I be stirring earelier then the Larke,
And at my labour later then the Lambe,
Towards my wife and childrens maintenance,
I scarcely earne me three-pence by the day.
Hob.
Alas the while, poore soule I pittie them,
And in thy words as in a looking-glasse,
I see the toyle and trauell of the countrey,
And quiet gaine of citties blessednesse.
We were vnworthy life: but bones of me,
Dost thou thinke to pay me twentie pound,
And keepe thy charge, earning a groat a day?
Taw.
God blesse my labours, I hope I shall,
I haue this quarter by exceeding thrift,
Bare clothing, and spare diet scrap't together
Fiue shillings in a purse which I lay vp,
Towards your worships debt.
Hob.
Giue it me, somewhat hath some sauour,
And yet shal I spend that which the poore laborer got?
No God forbid, old Hobson nere will eare,
Rather then surfet vpon poore mens sweat:
Take it againe, and by thy children bread.
But soft the mist doth breake, what towne is this?
Taw.
Dedford and it like your worship.
Enter Timothie,
Hob.
Bones a me, to Detford came I to doe charitie:
I see t'was Gods appointment,
But who comes here, bones a me honest Tim,
T'was said in London you were bound for France,
And I determined to haue write by you.
Tim.
By yea and nay, M. Hobson tis no vntruth, I was bound
for France, landed in France, dispatch't some secret businesse for a
sister in France, and from her haue french tokens to deliuer to the
sister hood, whom I shall first incounter in England.
Hob.
Bones a me Tim, so speedy in your iourney,
It seemes your businesse was of much import.
Tim.
Verely it was, and it stood chiefly betweene two women:
& as you know women loue to haue their busines dispatch't.
Hob.
Mother a me Tim, I am glad of it,
But how doo's my factor Iohn Gresham in France?
Tim.
You grauely may better consider of that then I can discourse,
but withall I pray you thinke hee is a wilde youth: there
are Tauernes in France, yet I doe not thinke Iohn Gresham is giuen
to frequent them, & yet I must remember you, he is a youth,
and youth may be drawne to expences, England's on this side
France, on it, the Sea betwixt him and his Master, but I doe
Hob.
Mother of me, leaue of these Parables,
And tell me plainely, is hee not a wencher?
Tim.
By yea, and by nay sir without Parable, I am no teltale,
I haue seene him in company with Madona such a one, or
such a one, it becomes not flesh and blood to reueale: your worship
knowes he is in France, the Sea betwixt him and you, and
what a yong youth in that case is proone vnto: your grauitie is
wise, Ile not say so much as I saw him drinking with a French
Lady, or Lasse in a Tauerne, because your grauitie is wise, but
if I had, it had beene lesse then perhaps you imagine on such a
wilde youth, as he no question doos deserue.
Hob.
Mother of mee tis so, In a Frnech, Tauerne
Kissing the Ladie, and the Sea betwixt vs:
I am for you M. Iohn: thus in my gowne and slippers,
And night-cap and gowne ile steppe ouer to France,
Here Tawnicote, receiue thou my seal'd ring,
Beare it to my Factor, bid him by that token
Sort thee out fortie pounds worth of such wares
As thou shalt think most beneficiall:
Thou art a free-man, vp with thy Trade agen,
Ile raise thee Rouland, if God say Amen.
Taw.
I know not how.
Hob.
Tut bones a mee man peace,
Hobson will doo't; Tou owest me but twentie pound,
Ile venture fortie more, Timothy here shall be thy witnesse
To my Factor in this businesse.
To all our friends in London say, I am gone
Oner to France, I am for your M. Iohn.
Exeunt.
Enter Iohn and Curtezan.
Courtez.
Sweet youth thou art too yong, and yet scarse ripe
To taste the sweetnesse of my mellowed loue.
Iohn.
That's the reason I set thy teeth an edge thus, but thou
knowst I promis'd to haue about with thee at our last parlay, and
I am come to performe my word, name the weapon.
Curtez.
Nothing but kisses, and enticing lookes,
Iohn.
Then ward your lips well, or youle ha the first venney.
Haue not the manly skill to breake a thrust.
Oh how I dote on thee! I haue tride ere now
The sweatie Spaniard, and the carowsing Dane,
The foggy Dutch-man, and the fiery French,
The briske Italian, and indeede what not?
And yet of all and all, the Englishman
Shall goe for me: I yo'are the truest Louers,
The ablest, last night, and the truest men
That breath beneath the Sunne.
Iohn.
Why then the Englishman for thy money, God a mercy
little rogue, there's no loue lost ile assure thee. I am my Masters
Factor, and thou hast a Commoditie that I must needs take
vp, and not en er't into his Cash-booke neither. Little thinkes
my master in England, what ware I deale withall here in France:
but since tis offer'd me at the best hand, ile venter on't though I
be a looser by the bargaine.
Cur.
I would be priuate, least the tell-tale ayre
VVhisper our loue, I prethe let vs in,
To the inner chamber, I am iealous
Of all eyes but mine owne to looke vpon thee,
I would haue none to see thee but my selfe:
In amorous armes to fold thee but my selfe:
To associate, talke, discourse or dally with thee:
Clip, graspe hands, or kisse thee but my selfe.
Iohn.
VVho would not be a Marchant venturer, and lay out
for such a faire returne; I shall venture the doubling of my years
presently: I thinke I haue met with a better Commoditie then
Matches, and my Master cannot say but hee hath met with his
match: this tis to haue the Land & the Sea betwixt me & my master,
here can I keepe my french Reuels, and none say so much as
blake is mine eye, prethe litle pinckany bestow this Iewell a me.
Curtez.
This Iewel's a Loue: aske my life tis thine:
But this an English factor whom you know
Gaue me at his departure out of Rhoane,
And I haue vow'd to keepe it for his sake.
Any thing but this Iewell.
Iohn.
But if I could get his Iewell cleanly, and carry it him
but and thou wilt not giue me this Iewell, prethe giue mee this
same chaine to were for thy sake.
Curtez.
This was another Countrey-mans of yours,
He made me sweare to kep't till his returne:
Aske me aught else, tis thine.
Iohn.
Why then this Ring.
Curtez.
That you of all the fauours that I weare
Could finde out nothing but this ring? This ring,
A toy not worth the giuing: yet I sooner
Would part with life then this, a dying friend
Bequeath'd it at his death: But honey Loue
What shouldst thou talke of giuing, tis a word
Worne out of vse, it sounds not well in French:
A man should still say take, take to his Wench.
Iohn.
Then I say take, take this and this, still take heed of me
least I shew you a slipperie tricke for this, tis the kindest wench in
Christendome, but sheele part with nothing:
Shall we haue another woing Roome?
Curtez.
What Rome thou pleasest, deare heart I agree,
VVhere ere I goe, there shall be roome for thee.
Iohn.
Any then, I may chance to make you wish rather my
roome then, my companie and you looke not the better too't.
They with-draw: Enter at the other ende of the Stage, Hobson in his Gowne and slippers.
Hobson.
I haue slipt or'e into France, and in my slippers
Giuen all my friends the slippe, to see this Gallant
My man, he that hath matcht me: bones a me,
The knaue's a Prophet, else it could not be.
Hee's not at his Lodging; yet by an English Factor,
A fellow knowes not me, I was directed
Vnto this house, Ile know what busines
The knaue hath here.
Pulsat.
Intrat Puella.
Wench.
VVhose there? whose at the doore?
Hob.
Damsell good day, is there not a fellow here an Englishman?
Here's an English-man, but none of your fellow neither: I hope
sir we are not all fellowes at foote-ball.
Nay bones a me Girle, there's no reason we should be
fellowes, but prethe my wench is there not one Iack Greshā here?
Wench.
No goodman looke like a Goose, but ther's one M. Iohn
Gresham an English Gentleman here: and you know no maners,
you would be taught some.
Hob.
Bones a me goodman Master, Master seruant,
Old goodman Hobson keeps Gentlemen to his men
Iacke turn'd to M. Iohn, mary sir reuerence,
The french maid taught me manners: well I hope
VVe shall haue a sight of the Gentleman.
Wench.
As you vse your selfe you may, and you may not.
Exit Ambo.
Fact: Curtiz.
Iohn.
Thou seest this Iewell well becomes mine eare,
This Ring my signger, and this chaine myne arme.
Curtez.
Ile be thy Iewell at thy lippes ile hang,
And as this Ring thy finger compasieth,
So shall these armes thy waste: these are but toyes,
Let me displace them.
Intrat Puella.
Wench.
M. Iohn here's a fellow below would speake with you.
Iohn.
VVith me, what is he?
Wench.
A simple Coxecombe, ile call him vp to you.
Iohn.
Doe my sweet Buffamacke: some Carryer or base knaue
that hangs of my liberalitie: I hope tis not pure Tim, come for
the second part of my beneuolence:
And see vs in our choisest pompe and state.
Wench.
Here's the fellow I told you of sir.
Intrat Hobson.
Iohn.
Zoones my Master.
Hob.
Sante amen: Man Iohn, a wenchart Knaue, racke and
manger knaue: bones a me, cannot a snatch and away serue your
turne, but you must lie at racke and manger? Is this the ware
you deale with seruant Iohn?
Iohn.
Chap-mans ware sir.
Hob.
Sirra, Sirra, the dealing with such warre belongs not to
our Trade: bones a me knaue, a Prentise must not occupie for
himselfe but for his Master, to any purpose.
And hee cannot occupie for his Master without the
consent of his Mistresse.
Hob.
Come y'are a knaue.
Ioh:
Of your owne bringing vp sir.
Hobs.
Besides, thou canst not keepe open shop here, because
thou art a forrainer, by the lawes of the Realme.
Ioh.
Not within the libertie: but I hope the suburbs tollerates
any man or woman to occupie for themselues, they may doo't in
the Citie too, and they be naturaliz'd once.
Hobs:
I but sirra, Ile haue none of my English Prentises
Frenchefied; bones a me knaue, Ile haue thee deale with no such
broken Commodities.
Ioh:
Your Worship must haue such as the Countrey yeelds,
or none at all. But I pray ye sir, what's our trade?
Hobs.
What sayst thou knaue?
Iohn.
That your worship is a Haberdasher of all wares.
Hobs.
Bones of me, a Haberdasher of small wares.
Ioh:
And that the worst trade in all Christendome, and especially
for French women: If they know a man to be a Haberdasher
of small ware, ther'le haue no dealing with him, and therefore
and you will haue any good Commodities here, you must
change your copie, you neuer were a traueller: and therefore you
know not what belongs too't; but you doe cleane mistake this
Gentlewoman, and you take her for a light wench, weigh her in
equall ballance, and you shall find her no such woman, no such
woman Ile assure you.
Hobs:
No, what is she then Iohn?
Ioh:
Fore God sir, I would not haue you wrong the Gentlewomans
repute, for a world. This Metressa deales for her selfe
and hath many sorts of ware at commaund, I was now bargaining
with her about a certaine Countrey Commoditie, and had
not your cōming mar'd the Match, one had gone through for't.
And further should you wrong the Ladies reputation heere in
Fraunce, Ile assure you they haue the law of their sides, but to
confirme your good opinion of her, this is she of whom I tooke
vp your Commoditie of Matches; be sorry for your offence, and
excuse you to her for shame maister.
Hobs:
Bones a me knaue I cannot speake a word of French.
Nor she of English, but al's one; vpon her Master, and
what you cannot doe in words, perfourme in dumbe signes:
Ile giue you what you come for instantly,
And on the sudden make you so agast,
You will be glad to pardon what is past.
Hobs:
Madam, I crie you mercie for this wrong
Done to your Ladyship, I did suspect you
For a bad liuer, but I see you cleare,
For which mistake, I doe remaine your seruant.
Courtez:
Gramercie Mounsier.
Hobs:
How, would you my gray Mare see? If it like your
Ladyship, I came by water, and neither of Mares backe, not
horse backe.
Courtez:
No, no point parla Francoi.
Hobs:
No indeed Ladie, my name is not Frauncis, your seruant
and Iohn Hobson.
Courtez:
No point?
Hobs.
No points; yes indeed Ladie, I haue points at my
hose, though I goe vntrust.
Courtez:
No point parla.
Hobs:
I haue no points in my parlour indeede, but I haue a
hundred pounds worth in my shop.
Intrat Ioh: cum alijs Fact.
Iohn.
Tush feare not lads, for he knowes none of you,
Doe but buffe out a little broken French,
And hee'le neuer take you to be Englishmen.
Omnes Fact.
We'le second the tother, but mannage it.
Ioh.
Be patient I beseech you Gentlemen,
Though you be officers, appointed here
To search suspected places, as this is
A most notorious filthy bawdie house,
And carrie all old rustie Fornicators
Aboue the age of fiftie vnto prison,
Yet know, this is an honest Gentleman.
Hobs.
A search, and this a bawdie house! why Iohn,
Bones a me knaue, How comes this to passe?
1. Fact.
Measar man a moy.
Hobs.
How, must you haue money of me? Ile know wherefore
Iohn.
Nay Master I would it were but a money matter,
A Cage, or whipping-post, or so, tis worse:
What an old man to chide his Prentise hence,
As if he had some priuat businesse,
And then himselfe get close vnto his wench;
Nay whipping's all too good, had you found me so,
There had been worke ynough, there had been newes
For England, and a whole twelue months chiding
Of my good vncle.
2. Fact:
Ie vorstre san Amist.
Hobs.
How, must I goe to prison for doing amisse?
Ioh.
To prison? nay to whipping, I am sorrie,
And to my power I will intreat for you: Fie Master, fie.
Hobs.
Bones a me Iohn, is not this a Ladie?
Ioh.
No by my troth Master, such as in the Garden-allies,
Ioane's as good as this French Ladie.
Hobs.
Is not this Gentlewoman a dealer?
And hath she not a good commoditie?
Ioh.
Yes by my faith sir, I confesse both.
Hobs.
Hath she not ware?
Ioh.
She hath, and at a reasonable reckoning.
Hobs.
And may not then a chapman deale with her?
Ioh.
Marry may ye sir, and Ile send news to your wife of your dealing:
The cause of your cōming to France shalbe knowne,
And what second hand commodities you tooke vp
Since your comming, my mistresse in England shall know
What vtterance you haue for your small wares in Fraunce:
Pen and inke, Ile set it downe in blacke and white,
Hobs.
Bones a me Iohn, what Iohn? why honest Iohn?
Ioh.
Harty commendations—vnderstand—reuerend master
Hobson found with a whore in Roans,—place, a common
bawdie house,—must be whipt.
Hobs.
No more good Iohn.
Ioh.
You haue had none yet,—whipt about the townes.
Hobs.
Sweet honest Iohn, why bones a me knaue Iohn.
Io.
In witnes wherof, all these honest gentlemen eie-witnesses,
haue set to their hands, nay my mistresse shall know't, that's flat:
ouer sea in your slippers, and venture (being not shod) to come
into Fraunce a wenching, what an old man too! she shall know
what a slipperie tricke you would haue serued her in your slippers
in Fraunce.
Hobs:
Nay, bones a me Iohn, friends, sweet Iohn all friends;
I doe confesse tha'st o'reacht thy master.
Ca me, ca thee, conceale this from my wife,
And Ile keepe all thy knauerie from thine vncle.
Ioh:
Well sir, In hope of amendment, I am content, and yet
Hobs:
Nay, bones a me, Ile take you at your word,
Besides I hope these honest Gentlemen
Will saue my credite.
Ioh:
Ile entreat for you.
Hobs:
Tis Logicke to me sir, I vnderstand you not.
Ioh:
Marry sir they say, if you will walke with them to their
lodgings, for my sake they inuite you to dinner.
Hobs.
God a mercie Gentlemen, God a mercie Iohn, but
bones a me knaue, where are their lodgings?
Ioh:
Hard by, for why doe you aske?
Hobs:
I hope they'le bring me to no more bawdie houses,
I would not be taken napping againe for two and one:
But Gentlemen Ile accept of curtesie, and then Iohn
You shall with me to England, weele shew Fraunce
Our backs. And you will needs deale for your selfe,
Afore your time, you shall doo't in England.
VVill your walke Gentlemen?
Curtes:
Adue Mounsier, and Gresham farewell too,
No more of French loue, no more french losse shall doe.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Thomas Ramsey being Maior, Sheriffe, Sword-bearer. &c.
Sir Tho:
VVell sayd my Masters, see all things be readie,
To giue her Maiestie such entertaine
As may grace London, and become the state
Her highnesse brings along,
VVher's the Queene now?
She comes along the Strand from Sommerset house,
Through Temple-barre, downe fleet-street, and the cheape,
And dines at master Greshams, and appoints
To returne on the South side through Corne-hill,
And there when she hath viewd the roomes aboue,
And walkes below, she'le giue name to the Burse.
Sheriffe.
The streets are fit, and all the Companies
Plac't in their liueries gainst her returne.
But my Lord Maior, shall these ambassadors
This day haue audience?
Sir Thom:
Admittance if not audience was graunted,
See therefore Trumpets, and all kinds of Musicke
Be plac'ct against her royall interuiew,
The steps with Arras spread where she ascends,
Besides giue charge vnto the shop-keepers
To make their best shewes in the vpper roomes,
Because the Queene intends to compasse it.
Sheriff.
Tis done my Lord.
Trumpets a farre off.
Sir Tho:
The Queen hath din'd, the Trumpets sound already,
And giue note of her comming, bid the Waites
And Hoboyes to be readie at an instant.
Enter at one dore the Queene, Lecester, Suffex, Lords, Gresham; at the other Cassemer, the French and Florentine Ambassadours, Sir Tho: Ramsey, &c.
Queen.
Lester and Sussex, are those the Ambassadors?
Lest.
They are dread Soueraigne, he that formost stands,
The Emperours, the second is the French,
The last is the Florentine.
Queen.
We will receiue them.
Here the Queene entertaines the Ambassadors, and in their seuerall languages confers with them.
Sussex and Lester place the ambassadours,
We at our Court of Greenwich will dilate
Further of these designes, where's Gresham?
Gresh.
Your humble subiect and seruant.
Queen.
Our leasure now serues to suruey your Burse,
A goodly frame, a rare proportion.
To adde vnto our fame, a monument
Of greater beautie: Lecester what sayst thou?
Lecest.
That I my Soueraigne haue not seen the like.
Queen.
Sussex nor you?
Enter Hobson.
Suss.
Madam not I: This Greshams worke of stone,
VVill liue to him when I am dead and gone.
Hob.
God blesse thy Grace Queene Besse.
Queen.
Friend, what are you?
Hob.
Knowest thou not mee Queene? then thou knowest no body:
Bones a me Queen, I am Hobson, and old Hobson
By the Stockes, I am sure you know me.
Queen.
VVhat is he Lecester, doost thou know this fellow?
Gresham or you?
Gresh.
May it please your Maiestie,
He is a rich substantiall Citizen.
Hob.
Bones a me woman send to borrow money
Of one you doe not know, there's a new tricke:
Your Grace sent to me by a Purseuant,
And by a priuie Seale to lend your Highnesse
An hundred pound: I hearing that my Queene
Had need of money, and thinking you had knowne me,
Would needes vpon the bearer, force two hundred:
The Queene should haue had three rather then faile,
I by this hand Queene Besse, I am olde Hobson
A Haberdasher, and dwelling by the Stockes:
VVhen thou seest money with thy Grace is scant,
For twice fiue hundred pound thou shalt not want.
Queen.
Vpon my bond.
Hob.
No, no my Soueraigne,
Ile take thine owne word without skrip or scrowle.
Queen.
Thankes honest Hobson, as I am true mayde,
Ile see my selfe the money backe repayd:
Thou without grudging lendest, thy Purse is free,
Honest as plaine.
Suss.
A true well meaning man I warrant him.
Gresh:
Your Maiestie promist to giue the name
Queen.
Gresham we will. A Herauld and a Trumpet.
Lest.
A Herauld and a Trumpet.
Queen.
Proclaime through euerie high street of this citie,
This place to be no longer cal'd a Burse,
But since the building's stately, faire and strange,
Be it for euer cal'd, the Royall Exchange.
A florish here.
And whil'st this voice flyes through the citie forth-right,
Arise Sir Thomas Gresham now a Knight.
Be our Ambassadors conducted all
Vnto their seuerall lodgings: this 23. of Ianuarie
A thousand, fiue hundred, and seuentie, Elizabeth
Christens this famous worke: now to our Court
Of Greenwich; Gresham, thankes for our good cheere:
We to our people, they to vs are deere.
Enter Nowell and Ladie Ramsie.
La: Ram:
What thinke you of my Husband master Deane,
Now:
As of all men, we are mortall, made of clay,
Now healthfull, now crasie; now sicke, now well;
Now liue, now dead, and then to heauen, or hell.
La. Ram:
It cheer's my heart, now in his deepe of sicknesse,
He is so charitable, and so well adicted
Vnto the poore's reliefe.
Now:
It ioyes me too:
Great is the number of the rich in shew
About the Citie, but of the charitable,
There are but few.
La. Ram.
Amongst these, I hold old Hobson well deseru's
To be ranckt equall with the bountiful'st:
He hath rais'd many falling, but especially
One master Rowland, one cal'd Tawnicote:
But now an able Citizen late chosen
A Maister of the Hospitall.
Now.
I know him well,
A good sufficient man, and since he purchast?
His Freedome in the Citie God hath blest
His trauaile with increase.
La: Ram:
I haue knowne old Hobson,
In Christs Church morne by morne, to watch poore couples
That come there to be married, and to be
Their common fathers, and giue them in the Church,
And some few Angels for a dower to boot,
Besides they two are cal'd the common Gossops
To witnesse at the Funt for poore mens Children,
Nor they refuse that on their helpe doe call,
And to speake truth, they're bountifull to all.
Enter Hobson.
Hobs.
Good morrow Master Doctor; my good Ladie!
Bones a me woman, thou look'st sad to day,
Thou hast not drunke a cup of sacke this morning.
La: Ram.
We haue been dealing of our charitie
This morning, to poore souldiers such as want.
Hobs.
Gods blessing of your heart, need must be fed,
Let vs that haue it giue the hungrie bread.
Enter Rowland alias Tawnicote.
Taw.
Where's master Hobson?
Hobs.
My new elected master of the Hospitall,
What hasty newes with you?
Taw.
Oh sir, the loue I beare you makes me charie
Of your good name, your credit's deere to me;
You neuer were condemn'd for any thing,
Since I had first acquaintance with your name;
As now you are, you haue done a deed this day,
That hath from you tane all good thoughts away.
Hobs.
Where? bones a me why? speake, why?
Taw.
This day, you haue pursu'd the law seuerely
Against one Timothy, that stole from you
A hundred pound, and hee's condemn'd for it,
And this day he must die.
Hobs.
Bones man, tis not so.
Taw.
He is by this, halfe way to Tyburne gone;
The suit was followed in Iohn Greshams name,
How can you then avow you know it not?
Hobs.
A horse, a horse, cart-horse, mault horse, anything
To saue the knaues life, I protest, I sweare
This was the first time that I heard the knaue
T'was done without my knowledge.
Taw.
Yong Gresham in his name pursude his life.
Hob.
They are knaues both, a Horse,
A hundred thousand pound cannot make a man:
A hundred shall not hang one by my meanes:
Men are more worth then monie M. Rouland,
Come helpe me to a horse, the next I meete,
To saue the knaue's life galloppes through the street.
Exit Hobson and Tawnicote.
Now.
Men are more worth then money, a say's true:
Tis said by many but maintain'd by few.
Lady.
He is plaine and honest, how many great professors
Liue in this populous Cittie, that make shew
Of greater zeale, yet will not pay so deare
For a transgressors life: but few are found,
To saue a man would loose a hundred pound.
Enter Tawincote.
Now.
So suddenly return'd?
Taw.
He rid to fast for me he hath been at buffets
With a poore Collier, and vpon his horse,
Is without saddle, bridle, bootes or spurres,
Gallop't toward S. Gyles.
Now.
They will take him for a mad man.
Taw.
Als one to him he doo's not stand on brauery
So he may doe men good, good deeds excell:
And though but homely done, may be done well:
Lady.
Heauen prosper his intent: now M. Doctor,
And M. Rouland, let me craue your companies,
To see my crazy husband, who hath made you
One of his executors, and would vse your paines
In these extreames of sickenesse.
Now.
I am pleas'd
Ile giue him phisicke for a soule diseas'd.
Exeunt.
Enter three Lords.
1.
You are an early riser, my good Lord,
2.
The blood of Youth that trafficks in the court
Must not be sluggish, your kind remembrance.
3.
My very good Lord, wee that are stars that waight vpon the trayne
Must not be Tarde.
1.
You haue said true, we are starters in one houre,
And our attendance is to waight one such a Queene,
VVhose vertue all the world: but to leaue that
VVhich euery tongue is glad to commune with,
Since Monsiers first arriuall in the land,
The time that he was here, and the time since,
VVhat royaltie hath beene in Englands Court,
Both princely reuelling, and war-like sport.
2.
Such sports doe fitly fit our Nation,
That forraine eyes beholding what we are,
May rather seeke our peace, then wish our warre.
3.
Heauen blesse our Soueraigne from her foes intent,
The peace we haue, is by her gouernment.
Enter Doctor Parry.
1.
M. Doctor Parry.
2.
Good Morrow M. Doctor.
3.
You are an early riser sir.
Doctor.
My Lord, my Lord, my very good Lord.
1.
This Summer morning makes vs couetous
To take the profit of the pleasant ayre.
Doct.
Tis healthfull to be stirring in a Morning.
2.
It hath pleasde the Queene to shew him many fauours.
3.
You say but right, and since his last disgrace,
The cause so great it had surely touch't his life,
Had not the Queene beene gracious: he seemes at Court
A man more gratious in our Soueraignes eye
Then greater subiects.
2.
She hath giuen him much preferment,
In greatest place grac't him with conference:
Ask't for him in his absence, and indeed
Made knowne to vs he is one in her regard.
3.
But did you neuer here the cause of his disgrace?
3.
He did intend the murther of a Gentleman,
One M. Hares here of the Inner Temple,
And so far brought his purpose to effecte,
That M. Hare being priuate in his Chamber,
Hee watching as he thought fit time, broke in vpon him.
That he did guard himselfe, and attach't him.
From whence he was committed vnto New-gare,
And at the Sessions by twelue honest men,
Found guilty of Burglarie and condemn'd to die:
And had di'd, had her Grace not pardon'd him.
2.
Shee is a gracious Princesse vnto all,
Many shee raiseth, wisheth none should fall.
1.
Fie M. Doctor,
Your face beares not the habite it was wont,
And your discourse is altered, what's the matter?
Doct.
And if my brow be sad or my face pale,
They doe belie my heart, for I am merry.
1.
Men beeing as you are, so great in grace
With such a royall Princesse, haue no reason.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent.
Roome Gentlemen for my L. high Steward.
Enter the Earle of Lecester, all the Lords flocke after him, & exeunt.
Manet Parry.
Doct.
The discontend desire to be alone,
My wishes are made vp, for they are gone.
Here are no blabs but this, and this one clocke
Ile keepe from going with a double locke:
Yet it will strike, this day it must be done.
What must be done? what must this engine doe?
A deed of treason hath prepar'd mee too.
These too, these too, why they had life by her,
And shall these two kill their deliuerer?
The life that makes me rise? these once my sinne
Had forfeited, her mercie pardon'd me:
I had beene eaten vp with wormes ere this,
Had not her mercie giuen a life to this:
And yet these hands if I performe my oth,
Must kill that life, that gaue a life to both.
I haue tane the Sacrament to doo't, confe'rd
VVith Cardinal Cemo about it, and receiu'd
Full absolution from his Holynes,
During my trauels both in France and Italie,
The deed is iust and meritorious,
And yet I am troubled when I doe remember
The excellencie of her Maiestie,
And I would faine desist, but that I know
How many vowes of mine are gone to heauen,
My letters and my promises on earth,
To holy fathers and graue Catholikes:
That I would doo't for good of Catholicks.
Then in the Garden where this day shee walkes,
Her graces I will cast behind mine eyes,
Enter Gen.
And by a subiects hand, a Soueraigne dyes.
Gent.
Cleare the way Gentlemen for the Queene:
Masters Doctor Parry.
Exit Gent.
Doct.
O, let me see a difference in this man!
Before this Queene (that I am come to kill)
Shew'd me the gracious eye of her respect,
And gaue me countenance mong'st greatest Earles;
This man was forwarder to thrust me forth,
Then now he is humble to accept me in.
If then her Grace hath honour'd me so much,
How can this hand giue her a treacherous touch?
The Trumpets speake, heauen what shall I doe?
Euen what hell, & mydam'd heart shal thrust me too.
Enter Queen, Lecester, and Lords.
Queen.
Faire day my Lords, you are all Larkes this morning,
Vp with the Sunne, you are stirring earely.
Lecest.
VVe are all subiects to your Soueraignes light.
Queen.
That you call dutie we accept as loue,
And we doe thanke you, nay we thanke you all;
Tis not to one, but tis in generall.
Lest.
The Queene would walke apart, forbeare my Lords.
Doct.
Now, what makes me shake?
Doe Angels guard her, or doth heauen partake
Her refuge?
Queene.
In such a Garden may a Soueraigne,
Be taught her louing subiects to maintaine;
Hauing full cherishing, it springeth foorth,
VVeedes must bee weeded our, yet weeded so,
Till they doe hurt, let them a Gods name grow.
Doct.
Now Queene.
He offers to shoote.
Queen.
VVho's there, my kind friend M. Doctor Parry?
Doct.
My most dread Soueraigne.
Queen.
VVhy doe you tremble M. Doctor? haue you any sure to vs?
Shake not at vs, we doe our Subiects loue,
Or doos thy face shew signes of discontent
Through any heauie want oppresseth thee?
Though at our Court of Greene-wich thou wert crost
In suing to be Master of Saint Katherines,
To doe thee good seeke out a better place,
Shee'le giue thee that, the which hath giuen thee grace.
Doct.
I know your loue dread Queene: Now.
Queen.
M. Doctor, about the talke we had together,
Of English Fugitiues that seeke my life:
You told mee of them I am beholding to you.
Doct.
I did no more then dutie: O happie time!
Queen:
And will they still persist? doe they desire my blood?
That wake when I should sleepe to doe them good.
Doct.
Madam.
Queen.
O my maker! Parry, Villaine, Traitour,
VVhat doost thou with that Dagge?
Doct.
Pardon dread Soueraigne.
Queen.
Pardon thou villaine, shewes thou art a Traitour,
Treason my Lords, Treason.
Enter the Lords.
Lest.
Ha, by the ble'st place of heauen, treason & we so neere?
A Traitour with a Dagge, Gods holy mother.
Lords guard the Queene: are you not frighted Madam?
Ile play the Sergeant to arrest the wretch.
Queen.
Be not so rash good Lecester, hee's dead already,
Stucke with remorce of that he was come to doe:
Pray let me speake with him. Say M. Doctor,
VVherein haue I deseru'd an ill of you,
Vnlesse it were an ill in pardoning you.
What haue I done toward you to seeke my life,
Doct.
Mercie dread Queene.
Queen.
I thanke my God, I haue mercie to remit
A greater sinne, if you repent for it.
Arise.
Lacest.
My Lords what to you meane, take hence that villain,
Let her alone, sheele pardon him againe.
Good Queene we know you are too mercifull,
To deale with Traitours of this monstrous kinde.
Away with him to the tower, then to death,
A Tratours death, shall such a Traitour haue,
That seekes his Soueraignes life that did him saue.
Queene.
Good Lecester.
Lest.
Good Queene you must be rul'd.
Exeunt.
Enter Iacke Gresham.
Iohn.
Nay sfoote Iacke, hold on thy resolution: they say, that
may happen in one houre that happens not againe in 7. yeare,
and I should chance to take her in the right vaine, and she kindly
bestow her selfe vpon me, why then there's a man made from
nothing, for before God I haue spent all and am not worth any
thing, and indeed vnlesse this same good old Ladie Ramsie take
some pitie vpon me & take me for better for worse, God knowes
in which of the two Counters I shall keepe my next Christmas
in, but by this hand if shee will accept of mee in this miserable
estate that I am in now, for before God, I haue neither money
nor credite, as I am an honest man, and thats more I am fear'd,
then any man will beleeue of mee, ile forsweare all women but
her, & wil not kisse any of my neighbours wiues for a kingdome.
heres the house, He knock at the doore: what shal I doo't in the
Cauellere humour, with whose within there Ho, or in the Puritane
humour, with by your leaue good brother: faith in neither,
for in the one I shall be taken for a swaggring knaue, and in the
other to be an hypocriticall foole: but honest Iacke in thine own
honest humour plaine dealing's a Iewel, and I haue vs'd it so long
I am next doore to a begger.
But Gods precious, what a plague make these here? these 2.
are two of my Creditors, I must stoppe their mouthes, fleet them
from hence, or all the fats in the fire.
1.
M. Gresham, you are well met.
I hope Gentlemen you will say so anon. But you are
alone, are you not?
2.
Alone M. Gresham, why doe you aske?
Iohn.
A man hath reason to aske, beeing as I am, that neuer
seeth his Creditors, but is a feard of the Catch-pole. But you are
kind my friends, and I thanke you, you will beare with me.
1.
I but M. Gresham, a man may beare till his backe breake.
Iohn:
I, Porters may; but you, that are sustantiall honest Cittizens,
there is no feare to be made of your breaking, you know
there's no man so low but God can raise him; and though I am
now out at heeles, or so as you thinke, I am in the way of preferment,
& hope to be able to pay euery man within this houre.
1.
We should be glad to see it.
2.
But how pray Sir?
Iohn.
How? why very easily, if I can compasse it: The truth is,
though you would litle thinke it, I am a sutor for my L. Ramsey.
1.
But I dare sware she is no suter to you.
Enter Lady Ramsie, and D. Nowel.
Iohn.
Why that's true too; for if shee were a Suter to mee, we
should be man and wife straight & you should haue your money
within this halfe houre. But looke, looke where shee comes: as
you are good-men mum, patience and pray for my proceedings:
If I do speed as I am partly perswaded, you shall haue your own
with the aduantage, if I should be crost you know the worst, forbearance
is no acquitance: but mum, if it prooue a match & any
of you should chance to be in the Counter, you know my marriage
being spred, my word wil be currant, then mum.
Now.
Madam you are welcome into Lumber-street.
Lady.
I thanke your curtesie, good M. Deane.
Ioh:
See how fortunately all things chance, if it happen as I
hope it wil, she taking a liking to me, here is a Priest to marry vs
presently Madam.
Lady:
Would you any busines with me sir?
Iohn.
Faith Lady necessary busines, & not to go far about the
bush, I am come to be a Suter vnto you, & you know the fashion
of yong men when they come a woing to ancient widowes, the
way to speed is to begin thus.
La:
You are very forward sir.
Ioh:
You would say so Lady if you knew how forward I would
be: but Madam you are rich, and by my Troth I am very poore,
and I haue been as a man should say starke naught: but hee goes
in so good a way, you know how vncharitable it were in you
to put mee out of it, you may make an honest man of mee, if
it, please you and when thou hast made mee one, by my Troth
Mall Ile keepe my selfe, for I am a Gentle man both by the fathers
side and mothers side, and though I haue not the mucke of
the world I haue a great deale of good Loue, and I prethee accept
of it.
Lady.
M Deane.
Doe you know this Gentlemans businesse to me.
Now.
Not I, beleeue me Madam.
Iohn.
I shall haue her sure: why ile tell you Sir, my Lady here
is a comely, ancient, rich widow, & I am a honest, propper, poore
young man, remembring stil I am a Gentleman, now what good
her riches may doe to her pouertie, your grauetie may gesse: saue
a soule perhaps M. Deane, looke you sir, it is but giuing my
hand into hers, and hers into mine: M. Deane, I protest before
God shee hath my heart already, and with some three or foure
words which I know you haue by rote, make vs two my Ladie
and I, one till death vs depart.
Lady.
This Gentleman thinks that to be a matter of nothing.
But doe you loue me as you doe protest?
Iohn.
Loue you Madam loue you by this hand: I shall haue
her sure, friends you see how the businesse goes forward, bring
me your billes tomorow morning or vpon the hope that I haue,
you may leaue them with me, I shall be able to discharge; Ha,
ha, Iacke.
Ladie.
How will you maintaine me Sir, if I should marry
you?
Iohn.
Maintaine, what needst thou aske that question?
Foote thou hast maintenance ynough for thee and I rod.
If I should marry you. Friends, you see how it goes now, to morrow
within an houre after I am married, I must take the vpper
hand of my Vncle, and the next Sunday I that was scarce worthy
to fit in the Belferie, the Church-wardens fetch me, and seat me
in the Chauncell.
Lady.
M Deane, I protest, I protest, neuer since I was widow,
Neuer did man make so much loue to me.
Ioh.
Doe Mall, prethee doe not thinke it so, be chosen one of
the common Counsell, or one of the Masters of the Hospitall,
so perhaps I shall neuer become it, marrie if I should bee chosen
one of the Maisters of Bridewell, for some of my old acquaintance;
fut, I would take it vpon me, vice must be corrected, vice
must be corrected.
La: Ram:
Fill me a large cup full of Hippocrist,
And bring me hither 20.li. in gold.
Iohn.
And one of your husbands Liuery Gownes, so now
you trouble your selfe so much, that gold is to contract vs withall:
a simple morning: Friends, you cannot beat me downe with
your bils. M. Deane of Poules I pray you stay and dine with me
you shall not say mee nay, the oftner you come, the more welcome.
Now.
You are merry sir.
Iohn.
I thanke God, and all the world may see I haue no other cause,
That I am likely to be so well bestowed.
Lady.
Sir, you shall not say the loue you shew'd to me,
Was entertain'd but with kind curtesie:
This for your loue, vnto your health I drinke.
Pledge me.
Iohn.
I by my Torth Mall will I, weare it as deepe as a well.
Ladie.
Now for your paines there is twentie pound in gold.
Nay, take the Cuppe too sir, thanks for your loue:
And were my thought's bent vnto marriage,
I rather would with you that seeme thus wild,
Then one that hath worse thoughts and seemes moe mild.
Iohn.
Foote will you not haue me then?
Lady.
Yes, when I meane to marry any one,
And that not whilst I liue,
Iohn.
See how a man may bee deceiued. I thought I should
haue beene suit by this time well, though I shall not haue you,
I shall haue this with a good will.
Ladie.
Withall my heart, and for the Loue you haue showne,
Wish it to thriue with you euen as mine owne.
1.
To Morrow shall we attend your worship.
2.
Sir her's my biff, it comes to twentie pound.
Friends, Ploydens Prouerbe. The Case is altered: and by
my troth I haue learn'd you a Lesson, Forbearance is so Acquittance.
Lady.
VVhat men are these?
Iohn.
Faith Madam, men that haue my hand, though not for
my honesty, yet for the money that I owe them.
Lady.
What doth he owe you?
1.
Fiftie pound, Madame.
Lady.
What you?
2.
A hundred Markes.
Lady.
Ile pay you both: and sir to doe you good,
To all your Creditors Ile doe the like.
Iohn.
That's said like a kinde wench,
And though we neuer meet againe,
We will haue one Busse more at parting:
And now I faith I haue all my wilde oates sowen,
And if I can grow rich by the helpe of this,
Ile say I rose by Lady Ramsies kisse.
Exeunt.
Apeale of Chambers.
Enter Queene, Hunsdon, Lecester, Drum, Colours, and Souldiers.
Queene.
A stand there Lords, Whence comes this sound of
shot?
Lest.
Please it your Maiestie, t'is thought the Fleet
Lately discouered by your Subiect Flemming,
Riding along the Coasts of France and Dunkerke,
Is met and fought with by your Admirall.
Queen.
Heauen prosper his proceedings; harke my Lords,
Stil it increaseth: Oh had God and Nature,
Giuen vs proportion man-like to our mind,
VVee'd not stand here fenc't in a wall of Armes,
But haue beene present in these Sea alarmes.
Huns.
Your royall resolution, hath created
Of one man three.
Enter a Post.
Queen.
Make way there, whats the newes,
Post.
Your Royall Fleet bids battel to the Spaniards,
VVhose number with the aduantage of the wind,
Giues them great oddes but the vndaunted worth,
And well knowne valour of your Admirall,
Sir Francis Drake, and Martin Furbisher
Giues vs assured hope of victorie.
Queen.
VVhere did the royall Nauies first incounter?
Post.
From Douer Cliffes we might discerne them ioyne,
But such a cloud of smoke inuiron'd them,
VVe could discouer nought of their proceedings:
For the great Spanish Fleet had wind and Tide,
God and good hearts stand on your Graces side.
Queen.
Ther's fot thy newes: he that first lent me breath,
Stand in the right of wrong'd Elizabeth.
Omnes.
God and his Angels, for Elizabeth.
Enter another Poste.
Queen.
VVelcome a Gods name, what's the newes my friend,
Alas, good man: his lookes speakes for his tongue.
How stands the sea-fight.
Post.
Much contrarious.
The Spanish Fleet cast in a warlike Ranke
Like a halfe Moone, or to a full bent bow,
Wait for aduantage: when amongst the rest
Sir Martin Furbisher blinded with smoke,
And fir'd in heart with emulating honour,
Gaue the proud Spaniard a broad side of shot:
But being within the compasse of their danger,
The distant corners of the gripled Fleet
Circled him round: this valiant Furbisher,
With all his braue and gallant followers,
Are foulded in deaths armes.
Queen.
If he Surviue,
He shall be nobly ransomed: If he die,
He liues an honour to his Nation,
Post.
Brauely he sights,
Directs with iudgement and with heedfull care,
Offends the Foe: England nere bred
Men that at sea fight better managed.
Queen.
It cheers my blood and if my God be pleased
For some neclected dutie in our selfe,
To punish vs with losse of them at sea,
His will be done: yet will we pray for them.
If they returne, our selfe: will be the first
Will bid them welcome; what sayes valiant Lecester?
Thou wilt not leaue me wilt thou dost thou looke pale?
What sayes olde Hunsdon? nay ile speake thy part,
Thy hand old Lord, I am sure I haue thy heart.
Huns.
Both hand and hart.
A noyce within crying a Furbisher. Enter a Captaine.
Queen.
Then let both heart and hand,
Be brauely vs'd in honour of our Land.
Before thou speakest take that if he be dead,
A Queene will see his Funerall honoured.
Cap.
VVhen the foes ships
Had grasp't his ships within a steely girdle,
The valiant Captaine ouer-charg'd with her,
Hauing no roome for cowardize or feare,
Gaue all his ordinance a gallant charge,
Cheer'd vp his souldiers, man'd vp his fights,
And standing bare-head, brauely on the decke,
When dangerous shot as thicke as April haile
Dropt by his eares, he waued his war-like sword,
And with a bold defiance to the foe.
The watch-word giuen, his Ordinance let flie
VVith such a furie, that it broke their rankes,
Shotter'd their sides and made their war-like shippes
Like drunkards reele, and tumble side to side:
But to conclude such was the will of heauen,
That being thought hopelesse to be preserued,
Yet in warres despite and all the Spaniards scoffe,
He brought his ship and souldiers brauely off.
Queen.
Warres spight indeed, and we to doe him right,
The shippe he sailde in, fought in, cal'd Warres spight.
Now noble souldiers rouze your hearts like me,
To noble resolution: if any heere
There be that loue vs not, or harbour feare;
Wee giue him libertie to leave our Campe
VVithout displeasure.
Our Armies royall so be equall our hearts,
For with the meanest heere ile spend my blood,
And so to loose it count my onely good.
A March, laed on: wee'le meet the worst can fall,
A mayden Queene will be your Generall.
They march one way out, at the other doore enter Sir Francis Drake with Colours, and Ensignes taken from the Spaniards.
VVhat meane these Spannish Ensiges in the hands
Of English Subiects?
Drake.
Honourable Queene,
They shew that Spaniards liues are in the hands
Of Englands Soueraigne.
Queene.
Englands God be prais'd
But prethe Drake, for well I knowne thy name,
And ile not be vnmindfull of thy worth:
Breefly rehearse the danger of the battle,
Till Furbisher was rescued wee haue heard.
Drake.
The danger after that was worse than then:
Valour a both sides stroue to rise with honour,
As is a paire of Ballance once made euen,
Sometimes we yeelded, but like a Ramme
That makes returnement to redouble strength,
Then forc't them yeeld when our Lord Admirall
Following the chase: Pedro their Admirall,
With many Knights and Captaines of account,
VVere by his noble deeds tane prisoners,
And vnder his Conduct are safely kept:
And are by this time landed at S. Margrets:
From whence they meane so march along by land,
And at S. Iames hee'le greet your Maiestie.
These Spannish Ensignes tokens of our Conquest,
Our Captaines tooke from off their battered ships:
Such as stood out we sunke, such as submitted,
Tasted our English mercie, and suruiue
Vassals and prisoners to your Soueraigntie.
Quee.
Next vnder God, your valors haue the praise:
Dismisse our Campe, and tread a royall March
Towards S. Iames, where in martiall order
Wee'le meete and parley our Lord Admirall,
And set a ransome of his Prisoners.
As for those Ensignes see them safely kept,
And giue commandement to the Deane of Powles,
He not forget in his next learned Sermon,
To celebrate this conquest at Powles Crosse:
And to the Audience in our name declare.
Our thankes to heauen in vniuersall Prayer:
For tho our enemies be ouerthrowne.
Tis by the hand of heauen, and not our owne.
On: Sound a call; Now louing Countreymen,
Subiects, and fellow-souldiers, that haue left
Your weeping wiues, your goods and children,
And layd your liues vpon the edge of death.
For good of England, and Elizabeth,
We thanke you all; those that for vs would bleed,
Shall finde vs kinde to them and to their seed.
Wee heare dismisse you and dismisse our Campe.
A greater recompence then thankes wee'le giue.
All.
Our liues, and liuings for Elizabeth.
Queen.
Thankes; generall thankes.
Towards London march we to a peacefull throne,
We wish no warres, yet we must guard our owne.
Exeunt.
| The Second Part of, If you know not me, you know no bodie | |