 | The Fair Maid of The West. Or, A Girle worth gold. The first part |  |
Actus secundus
Scena prima.
Enter Forset and Roughman.Forset.
In your time have you seene a sweeter creature?
Roughm.
Some weeke or thereabouts.
Fors.
And in that small time shee hath almost undone
all the other Taverns. The Gallants make no rendezvous
now but at the Wind-mill.
Roughm.
Spight of them Ile have her. It shall cost me
the setting on but Ile have her.
Fors.
Why, doe you thinke she is so easily won?
Roughm.
Easily or not, Ile bid as fayre and farre as any
man within twenty miles of my head, but I will put her
to the squeake.
Fors.
They say there are Knights sonnes already come
as suiters to her.
Roughm.
Tis like enough, some younger brothers, and
so I intend to make them.
Fors.
If these doings hold, shee will grow rich in short
time.
Roughm.
There shall bee doings that shall make this
Wind-mill my grand seate, my mansion, my pallace, and
my Constantinople.
Enter Besse Bridges like a Mistresse, and Clem.
Fors.
Here she comes: observe how modestly she beares
her selfe.
Roughm.
I must know of what burden this vessell is, I
shall not beare with her till shee beare with mee, and till
then, I cannot report her for a woman of good cariage.
Your olde Master that dwelt here before my
comming, hath turn'd over your yeares to me.
Clem.
Right forsooth: before he was a Vintner, hee
was a shoo-maker, and left two or three turne-overs more
besides my selfe.
Besse.
How long hast thou to serve.
Clem.
But eleven yeares next grasse, and then I am in
hope of my freedom. For by that time I shall be at ful age.
Besse.
How old art thou now?
Clem.
Forsooth newly come into my Teenes. I have
scrap'd trenchers this two yeares, and the next Vintage I
hope to be Barre-boy.
Besse.
What's thy name?
Clem.
My name is Clem, my father was a Baker, and by
the report of his neighbors, as honest a man as ever lived
by bread.
Bes.
And where dwelt he?
Clem.
Below here in the next crooked street, at the
signe of the Leg. Hee was nothing so tall as I, but a little
wee-man, and somewhat huckt-backt.
Besse.
He was once Constable?
Clem.
Hee was indeede, and in that one yeare of his
raigne, I have heard them say, hee bolted and sifted out
more businesse, then others in that office in many yeares
before him.
Besse.
How long ist since he dyed?
Clem.
Marry the last deare yeare. For when corne grew
to be at an high rate, my father never dowed after.
Besse.
I thinke I have heard of him.
Clem.
Then I am sure you have heard he was an honest
neighbor, and one that never lov'd to be meale-mouth'd.
Besse.
Well sirrah, proove an honest servant, and you
shall finde me your good Mistresse. What company is in
the Marmaid?
Clem.
There be foure Sea captaines. I beleeve they be
little better then spirats, they are so flush of their rudocks.
No matter, wee will take no note of them.
Here they vent many brave commodities,
By which some gain accrews. Th'are my good customers,
And still returne me profit.
Clem.
Wot you what Mistresse, how the two Saylers
would have served me, that calld for the pound and halfe
of Cheese?
Bess.
How was it Clem?
Clem.
When I brought them a reckoning, they would
have had me to have scor'd it up. They tooke me for a simple
gull indeed, that would have had me to have taken
Chalke for Cheese.
Besse.
Well, goe waite upon the Captaines, see them
want no wine.
Clem.
Nor reckoning neyther, take my word Mistress.
Roughm.
Shee's now at leasure, Ile to her.
Lady, what Gentlemen are those above?
Besse.
Sir they are such as please to be my guests,
And they are kindly welcome.
Roughm.
Give me their names.
Besse.
You may goe search the Church-booke where
they were christned.
Roughm.
Minion, how?
Fors.
Fie, fie, you are too rude with this faire creature,
That no way seekes t'offend you.
Bess.
Pray hands off.
Roughm.
I tell thee maid, wife, or what e'er thou beest,
No man shall enter here but by my leave.
Come, let's be more familiar.
Bess.
'Las good-man.
R.
Why knowst thou whō thou sleightst. I am Roughman,
The onely approved gallant of these parts,
A man of whom the Roarers stand in awe,
And must not be put off.
Bess.
I never yet heard man so praise himselfe,
Roughm.
Coward, Bess?
You will offend me, raise in me that fury
Your beauty cannot calme. Goe to, no more,
Your language is too harsh and peremptory.
Pray let me heare no more on't. I tell thee
That quiet day scarce past me these seven yeares
I have not crackt a weapon in some fray,
And will I you move my spleene?
Fors.
What, threat a woman?
Bes.
Sir, if you thus persist to wrong my house,
Disturbe my guests, and nightly domineire,
To put my friends from patience, Ile complaine,
And right my selfe before the Magistrate.
Can we not live in compasse of the Law,
But must be swaggerd out on't?
Roughm.
Goe too, wench,
I wish thee well, thinke on't, theres good for thee
Stor'd in my brest, and when I come in place
I must have no man to offend mine eye:
My love can brooke no rivals. For this time
I am content your Captaines shall have peace,
But must not be us'd to't.
Bes.
Sir if you come like other free & civill Gentlemen
Y'are welcome, otherwise my doores are barr'd you.
Roughm.
That's my good Girle,
I have fortunes laid up for thee: what I have
Command it as thine owne. Goe too, be wise.
Bes.
Well, I shall study for't.
Roughm.
Consider on't. Farewell.
Exit.
Bes.
My minde suggests mee that this prating fellow
Is some notorious Coward. If he persist
I have a tricke, to try what metall's in him.
Enter Clem.
What newes with you?
Cle.
I am now going to carry the Captaines a reckning.
And what's the summe?
Clem.
Let me see, eight shillings and six pence.
Bes.
How can you make that good? write them a bill.
Clem.
Ile watch them for that, tis no time of night to
use our bils, the Gentlemen are no dwarfes, and with one
word of my mouth, I can tell them what is to be-tall.
Besse.
How comes it to so much?
Clem.
Imprimis, six quarts of wine at seven pence the
quart, seven sixpences.
Besse.
Why dost thou reckon it so?
Clem.
Because as they came in by hab nab, so I will
bring them in a reckning at six and at sevens.
Bes.
Well, wine—3 s, 6 d.
Clem.
And what wants that often groats?
Besse.
Tis two pence over.
Clem.
Then put six pence more to it, and make it 4 s,
wine, though you bate it them in their meate.
Besse.
Why so I prethee?
Clem.
Because of the old proverbe, VVhat they want in
meate, let them take out in drinke. Then for twelve penyworth
of Anchoves, 18 d.
Besse.
How can that be?
Clem.
Marry very well Mistresse, 12 d. Anchoves, and
6 d. oyle and vineger. Nay they shall have a sawcy reckoning
Bes.
And what for the other halfe crowne?
Clem.
Bread, beere, salt, napkins, trenchers, one thing
with another, so the summa totalis is—8 s, 6 d.
Bes.
Well, take the reckoning from the bar.
Clem.
What needs that forsooth? The Gentlemen seem
to be high-flowne already, send them in but another pottle
of Sacke, and they will cast up the reckoning of themselves.
Yes, Ile about it.
Bes.
VVere I not with so my sutors pesterd,
And might I injoy my Spencer, what a sweet
Contented life were this? For money flowes
And my gaine's great. But to my Roughman next:
It shall be my next businesse: in this passion
For my deare Spencer, I propose me this,
Mongst many sorrowes some mirth's not amisse,
Exit.
Enter Spencer, and Goodlacke.
Goodl.
What were you thinking sir?
Spen.
Troth of the world, what any man should see in't
To be in love with it.
Goodl.
The reason of your meditation.
Spenc.
To imagine that in the same instant that one forfets
all his estate, another enters upon a rich possession: as
one goes to the Church to be marryed, another is hurried
to the gallowes to be hang'd, the last having no feeling
of the first mans joy, nor the first of the last mans misery.
At the same time that one lyes tortured upon the Racke,
another lyes tumbling with his Mistresse over head and
eares in downe and feathers. This when I truly consider,
I cannot but wonder why any fortune should make a man
extasy'd.
Goodl.
You give your selfe too much to melancholy.
Spenc.
These are my Maximes, and were they as faithfully
practised by others, as truly apprehended by me, we
should have lesse oppression, and more charitie.
Enter the two Captaines that were before.
1 Capt.
Make good thy words.
2 Capt.
I say thou hast injur'd me.
1 Capt.
Tell me wherein.
2 Capt.
When we assaulted Fiall,
And I had by the Generals command
The onset, and with danger of my person
Enforc'd the Spaniard to a swift retreat,
And beat them from their Fort, thou when thou sawst
All feare and danger past, mad'st up with me
And never ventur'd shot for't, or ere came
Where bullet graz'd.
Spenc.
See Captaine a fray towards,
Let's if we can attone this difference.
Goodl.
Content.
1 Capt.
Ile prove it with my sword,
That though thou hadst the formost place in field,
And I the second, yet my Company
Was equall in the entry of the Fort.
My sword was that day drawne as soone as thine,
And that poore honour which I won that day
Was but my merit.
2 Capt.
Wrong me palpably
And justifie the same?
Spenc.
You shall not fight.
1 Capt.
Why, sir, who made you first a Iusticer,
And taught you that word shall? you are no Generall,
Or if you be, pray shew us your Commission.
Spenc.
Sir you have no commission but my counsell,
And that Ile shew you freely.
2 Capt.
Tis some Chaplaine,
1 Capt.
I doe not like his text.
Goodl.
Let's beate their weapons downe.
1 Cap.
Ile aime at him that offers to divide us?
2 Cap.
Pox of these part-frayes, see I am wounded
By beating downe my weapon.
Goodl.
How fares my friend?
Sp.
You sought for blood, and Gentlemen you have it,
Let mine appease you, I am hurt to death.
1 Capt.
My rage converts to pitie, that this Gentleman
Shall suffer for his goodnes.
Goodl.
Noble friend,
I will revenge thy death.
Spen.
He is no friend
That murmurs such a thought. Oh Gentlemen.
Am slaine in Fiall. Caroll fell by me,
And I fall by a Spencer. Heav'n is just,
And will not suffer murder unreveng'd,
Heaven pardon me, as I forgive you both,
Shift for your selves: away.
2 Capt.
VVe saw him die,
But grieve you should so perish.
Spen.
Note Heavens justice,
And henceforth make that use on't. I shall faint.
1 Capt.
Short Farewels now must serve. If thou surviv'st
Live to thine honour: but if thou expir'st
Heaven take thy soule to mercy.
Exeunt.
Spenc.
I bleed much,
I must goe seeke a Surgeon.
Goodl.
Sir how cheare you?
Spenc.
Like one thats bound upon a new adventure
To th'other world: yet thus much worthy friend
Let me intreat you, since I understand
The Fleet is bound for England, take your occasion
To ship your selfe, and when you come to Foy
Kindly commend me to my dearest Besse,
Thou shalt receive a Will, in which I have
Possest her of five hundred pounds a yeare.
Goodl.
A noble Legacy.
Spenc.
The rest I have bestow'd amongst my friends,
Onely reserving a bare hundred pounds
To see me honestly and well interr'd.
Goodl.
I shall performe your trust as carefully
As to my father, breath'd he.
Spenc.
Marke me Captaine:
Her Legacie I give with this proviso,
If at thy arrivall where my Besse remaines,
Thou findst her well reported, free from scandall,
My VVill stands firme: but if thou hear'st her branded
For loose behaviour, or immodest life,
It is thine owne: but as thou lov'st thy soule
Deale faithfully betwixt my Besse and me.
Goodl.
Else let me dye a prodigie.
Spenc.
This Ring was hers, that, be she loose or chaste,
Being her owne, restore her, she will know it,
And doubtlesse she deserves it. Oh my memory,
VVhat had I quite forgot? She hath my picture,
Goodl.
And what of that?
Sp.
If she be ranckt amongst the loose and lewd,
Take it away, I hold it much undecent,
A whore should ha't in keeping: but if constant
Let her injoy it: this my Will performe
As thou art just and honest.
Goodl.
Sense else forsake me.
Spenc.
Now lead me to my Chamber, all's mads even,
My peace with earth, and my atone with heaven.
Enter Besse Bridges like a Page with a sword, and Clem.
Bess.
But that I know my mother to be chaste,
I'de sweare some Souldier got me.
Clem.
It may be many a Souldiers Buffe Ierkin came
out of your fathers Tanne-fat.
Besse.
Me thinkes I have a manly spirit in me
In this mans habit.
Clem.
Now am not I of many mens mindes, for if you
should doe me wrong, I should not kill you, though I
tooke you pissing against a wall.
Bess.
Me thinkes I could be valiant on the sudden:
And meet a man i'th field.
I could doe all that I have heard discourst
Of Mary Ambree or Westminsters Long-Meg.
Clem.
VVhat Mary Ambree was I cannot tell, but unlesse
you were taller you will come short of Long Meg,
Of all thy fellowes thee I onely trust,
And charge thee to be secret.
Clem.
I am bound in my Indentures to keepe my Masters
secrets, and should I finde a man in bed with you, I
would not tell.
Bes.
Be gone sir, but no words as you esteeme my favor.
Clem.
But Mistresse, I could wish you to looke to your
long seames, fights are dangerous. But am not I in a sweet
taking thinke you?
Besse.
I prethee why?
Clem.
Why, if you should swagger and kill any body, I
being a Vintner should be calld to the Barre.
Besse.
Let none condemne me of immodesty,
Because I trie the courage of a man
Who on my soule's a Coward: beates my servants,
Cuffes them, and as they passe by him kickes my maids,
Nay domineirs over me, making himselfe
Lord ore my house and houshold. Yesternight
I heard him make appointment on some businesse
To passe alone this way. Ile venture faire,
But I will try what's in him.
Enter Roughman and Forset.
Fors.
Sir, I can now no further, weighty businesse
Calls me away.
Rough.
Why at your pleasure then,
Yet I could wish that ere I past this field,
That I could meet some Hector, so your eyes
Might witnesse what my selfe have oft repeated,
Namely that I am valiant.
Fors.
Sir no doubt. But now I am in haste. Farewell.
Roug.
How many times brave words beare out a man?
For if he can but make a noise, hee's fear'd.
To talke of fraies, although he ne'er had heart
To face a man in field, that's a brave fellow,
I have beene valiant I must needs confesse,
Ready to part the fray: but for the fields
They are too cold to fight in.
Besse.
You are a villaine, a Coward, and you lie.
R.
You wrong me I protest. Sweet courteous Gentlemā
I never did you wrong.
Besse.
Wilt tell me that?
Draw forth thy coward sword, and suddenly,
Or as I am a man Ile runne thee through,
And leave thee dead ith field.
Roug.
Hold as you are a Gentleman. I have tane an oath
I will not fight to day.
Besse.
Th'ast tooke a blow already and the lie,
Will not both these inrage thee?
Rough.
No, would you give the bastinado too,
I will not breake mine oath.
Besse.
Oh, your name's Roughman.
No day doth passe you but you hurt or kill.
Is this out of your calender?
Rough.
I, you are deceiv'd,
I ne'er drew sword in anger I protest,
Vnlesse it were upon some poore weake fellow
That ne'er wore steele about him.
Besse.
Throw your Sword.
Roug.
Here sweet young sir, but as you are a gentleman,
Doe not impaire mine honor.
Besse.
Tye that shooe.
Rough.
I shall sir.
Besse.
Vntrusse that point.
Rough.
Any thing this day to save mine oath.
Besse.
Enough: yet not enough, lie downe
Till I stride ore thee.
Rough.
Sweet sir any thing.
Besse.
Rise, thou hast leave. Now Roughman thou art blest
This day thy life is sav'd, looke to the rest.
Take backe thy sword.
Oh you are generous: honour me so much
As let me know to whom I owe my life.
Besse.
I am Besse Bridges brother,
Roug.
Still me thought that you were somthing like her.
Besse.
And I have heard,
You domineir and revell in her house,
Controle her servants, and abuse her guests,
VVhich if I ever shall hereafter heare,
Thou art but a dead man.
Roughm.
She never told me of a brother living,
But you have power to sway me.
Bess.
But for I see you are a Gentleman,
I am content this once to let you passe,
But if I finde you fall into relapse,
The second's farre more dangerous.
Roughm.
I shall feare it. Sir will you take the wine?
Bess.
I am for London.
And for these two termes cannot make returne:
But if you see my sister, you may say
I was in health.
Roughm.
Too well, the devill take you.
Bess.
Pray use her well, and at my comming backe
Ile aske for your acquaintance. Now farewell.
Rough.
None saw't: hee's gone for London: I am unhurt,
Then who shall publish this disgrace abroad?
One man's no slander, should he speake his worst:
My tongue's as loud as his, but in this country
Both of more fame and credit. Should we contest
I can out-face the proudest. This is then
My comfort: Roughman, thou art still the same,
For a disgrace not seene, is held no shame.
Enter two Sailors.
1 Sa.
Aboard, aboard, the wind stands faire for England,
The ships have all weigh'd anchor.
2 Sail.
A stiffe gale blowes from the shore.
Goodl.
The Sailers call aboard, and I am forc'd
To leave my friend now at the point of death,
And cannot close his eyes. Here is the Will,
Now may I finde yon Tanners daughter turn'd
Vnchaste or wanton, I shall gaine by it
Five hundred pounds a yeare: here is good evidence.
1 Sailor.
Sir will you take the long boat and aboard?
Enter a third Sailor.
Goodl.
With all my heart.
3 Sail.
What are you ready Mates?
1 Sail.
We staid for you. Thou canst not tel who's dead?
The great bell rung out now.
3 Sailor.
They say twas for one Spencer, who this night
Dyde of a mortall wound.
Goodl.
My worthy friend.
Vnhappy man that cannot stay behinde
To doe him his last rights. Was his name Spencer?
3 Sail.
Yes Sir, a Gentleman of good account
And well knowne in the navy.
Goodl.
This is the end of all mortalitie:
It will be newes unpleasing to his Besse.
I cannot faire amisse, but long to see
Whether these Lands belong to her or mee.
Enter Spencer, and his Surgeon.
Surg.
Nay feare not sir, now you have scap'd this dressing
My life for yours.
Spenc.
I thanke thee honest Friend.
Surg.
Sir I can tell you newes.
Spenc.
What ist I prethee?
Surg.
There is a Gentleman one of your name,
That dide within this hower.
Spenc.
My name? what was he, of what sicknes dide he?
No sicknesse, but a sleight hurt in the body,
Which shewed at first no danger, but being searcht,
He dyde at the third dressing.
Spenc.
At my third search I am in hope of life.
The heavens are mercifull.
Surg.
Sir doubt not your recovery.
Spenc.
That hundred pound I had prepar'd t'expend
Vpon mine owne expected Funerall
I for name sake will now bestow on his.
Surg.
A noble resolution.
Spenc.
What ships are bound for England, I would gladly
Venture to sea, though weake.
Surg.
All bound that way are vnder saile already.
Spenc.
Here's no securitie,
For when the beaten Spaniards shall returne,
They'le spoile whom they can finde.
Surg.
We have a ship,
Of which I am Surgeon, that belongs unto
A London merchant, now bound for Mamorah
A towne in Barbary, please you to use that,
You shall command free passage: ten months hence
We hope to visit England.
Spenc.
Friend I thanke thee.
Surg.
Ile bring you to the Master, who I know
Will entertaine you gladly.
Spen.
When I have seene the funerall rights perform'd
To the dead body of my Country man
And kinsman, I will take your courteous offer.
England no doubt will heare newes of my death,
How Besse will take it is to me unknowne:
On her behaviour I will build my fate,
There raise my love, or thence erect my hate.
| The Fair Maid of The West. Or, A Girle worth gold. The first part | |