 | The Coxcombe |  |
Actus Quintus
Scena Prima.
Enter Justice, and Curio with a paper.Just.
Birlady Sir you have rid hard that you have.
Cur.
They that have businesse must do so I take it.
Just.
You say true, when set you out my friend?
Cur.
About ten a clock and I have rid all night.
Just.
By the masse you are tough indeed, I have seene
the day, I would have rid too with the proudest of them
and fling durt in their faces, and I have don't with this
foolish boy sir many a time; but what can last alwayes? 'tis
done, 'tis done now Sir, age, care, and office, brings us
to our footecloathes, the more the pitty.
Curio.
I believe that Sir, but will it please you to read
the businesse?
Just.
My friend I can read an I can tell you when.
Cur.
Would I could too Sir, for my hast requires it.
Just.
Whence comes it do you say?
Cur.
Sir from the Citty.
Justice.
O from the City 'tis a reverent place.
Curio.
And his justice bee as short as his memory,
A Dudgion Dagger will serve him to mow downe sinne
withall.
Just.
And by my faith govern'd by worthy member,
Discreete and upright.
Curio.
Sir they are beholding to you, you have given
some of them a commendations, they were not worthy
of this twenty yeares.
Just.
Go to go to, you have a merry meaning, I have
found you sir ifaith, you are a wag, away, fye, now I'le read
Your letter.
Curio.
Pray do sir; what a misery 'tis,
To have an urgent businesse, wait the Justice,
Of such an old Tuff taffity that knowes not,
Nor can be brought to understand more sence,
Then how to restore supprest Ale-houses,
And have his man compound small trespasses,
For ten groates.
Just.
Sir it seems here your businesse is of deeper circumstance
then I conceiv'd it for; what do you meane Sir?
Cur.
'Tis for mine owne ease I'le assure your VVorship.
Just.
It shall not be ifaith friend, here I have it,
That one Antonio a Gentleman, I take it so,
Yes it is so, a Gentleman is lately thought to
Have been made away, and by my faith upon a
Perles ground too, if you consider; wel, there's
Knavery in't, I see that without spectacles.
Cur.
Sure this fellow deals in revelation he's so hidden,
Goe thy wayes, thou wilt sticke a bench spit as formally,
And shew thy agot, and hatch'd chaine
As well as the best of them.
Just.
And now I have considered, I beleeve it.
Cur.
VVhat Sir?
Just.
That he was murdered.
Cur.
Did you know him?
Just.
No.
Cur.
Nor how it is suppos'd.
Just.
No, nor I care not two-pence, those are toyes and
yet I verily beleeve hee was murdered, as sure as I beleeve
thou art a man, I never failde in these things yet, weare a
man that's beaten to these matters, experience is a certain
conceal'd thing that failes not; pray let me aske you one
Cur.
Because the letter is addrest to you, being the nearest
Justice.
Iust.
The nearest? is that all?
Cur.
I thinke it be Sir, I would be loth you should bee
the wisest.
Iust.
Well Sir, as it is, I will endeavour in it; yet if it
had come to me by name, I know not, but I thinke it had
beene as soone dispatcht as by another, and with as round
a wisedome, I, and as happily, but that's all one: I have
borne this place this thirty yeares, and upwards, and with
sufficient credit: and they may when they please, know
me better; to the nearest? well.
Curio.
Sir, it is not my fault, for had I knowne you
sooner—
Iust.
I thanke you Sir, I know it.
Cur.
I'le besworne you should have plaid for any businesse
now.
Iustice.
And further, they have specified unto mee, his
Wife is sorely suspected in this matter, as a maine
cause,
Curio
I think e she be Sir, for no other cause can be yet found.
Iust.
And one Mercury a traveller, with whom they say
directly shee is runne away, and as they thinke this way.
Cur.
I knew all this before.
Iustice.
Well Sir, this Mercury I know, and his breeding,
a neighbours childe hard by, you have been happy
Sir in comming hither.
Cur.
Then you know where to have him Sir?
Iust.
I do Sir, he dwells neare me.
Cur.
I doubt your Worship dwels neare a Knave then.
Iust.
To see how gracelesse people are now given,
And how base vertue is accounted with them
That should be all in all as sayes a wise man.
I tell you Sir, and it is true, that there have beene
such murthers, and of late dayes, as 'twould make
your very heart bleede in you, and some of them as I
shall bee enabled I will tell you, it fell out of late
dayes.
Cur.
It may be so, but will it please you to proceede
in this?
Iust.
An honest Weaver, and as good as work-man as ere
shot shuttle, and as close: but every man must dye; this
honest Weaver being a little mellow in his Ale, that was
the evidence verbatim, Sir, God blesse the marke, sprung
his necke just in this place: wel Iarvis, thou hadst
wrongs, & if I live some of the best shall sweat fort, then a
wench—
Cur.
But Sir you have forgot my businesse.
Iust.
A sober pretty maide about 17. they say, certainly
howsoever 'tis shuffled, shee burst her selfe, and fondly,
if it be so, with Furmety at a Churching, but I thinke
the Divell had another agent in't: either of which if I can
catch shall stretch for't.
Cur.
This is a mad Justice that will hang the Devill;
but I would you would be short in this, before that other
notice can be given?
Iustice.
Sir I will doe discreetly what is fitting; what,
Antonio?
Ant.
within.
Your Worship?
Iust.
Put on your best coate, and let your fellow Marke
goe to the Constable & bid him aide me with all the speed
hee can, and all the power, and provide pen and inke
to take their Confessions, and my long sword, I cannot
tell what danger wee may meete with; you'le goe
with us?
Curio.
Yes, what else? I came to that end to accuse both
parties.
Iust.
May I crave what you are?
Cur.
Faith Sir one that to be knowne would not profit
you, more then a meere Kinsman of the dead Antonio's.
Iust.
'Tis well, I am sorry for my neighbour, truly,
that hee had no more grace, 'twill kill his Mother, shee's
a good olde woman, will you walke in? I'le but put my
Cloake on, and my Chaine off, and a cleane band, and
have my shooes blackt over, and shift my Jerkin, and
wee'l to our businesse, and you shall see how I can bolt
these matters.
Cur.
As soone as't please you Sir.
Exit.
Enter Valerio, and Richardo.
Val.
This is the place; here did I leave the Maid
Alone last night drying her tender eyes,
Uncertaine what to do, and yet desirous
To have me gone.
Rich.
How rude are all we men,
That take the name of Civill to our selves?
If she had set her foote upon an earth
Where people live that we call barbarous;
Though they had had no house to bring her too,
They would have spoil'd the glory that the spring
Has deckt the trees in, and with willing hands
Have torne their branches downe, and every man
Would have become a builder for her sake.
What time left you her there?
Val.
I left her, when the Sun had so much to set,
As he is now got from his place of rise.
Rich.
So near the night she could not wander far;
Faire Viola?
Val.
It is in vaine to call, she sought a house
Without all question.
Rich.
Peace, faire Viola?
Faire Viola? who should have left her here
On such a ground? if you had meant to loose her,
You might have found there were no Inches here
To take her name and carry it about,
When her true Lover came to mourn for her,
Till all the neighbouring valleys and the hills,
Resounded Viola,—
And such a place,
You should have chose—
You pity us because
The dew a little wets our feete,
Unworthy far to seeke her in the wet;
And what becomes of her? where wandred she,
With 2 showers raining on her, from her eyes
Continually, abundantly, from which
There's neither tree nor house to shelter her;
Will you goe with me to travell?
Val.
Whither?
Rich.
Over all the world.
Val.
No by my faith, I'le make a shorter journey
When I do travell.
Rich.
But theres no hope
To gaile my end in any shorter way.
Val.
Why, what's your end?
Rich.
It is to search the earth,
Till we have found two in the shapes of men,
As wicked as our selves.
Val.
'Twere not so hard to find out those.
Rich.
Why, if we finde them out,
It were the better; for what brave villany,
For every one has treachery enough
For 20. Countryes, one should trouble Asia,
Another should sowe strife in Affrica;
But you should play the knave, at home in Europ,
And for America let me alone.
Uale.
Sir I am honester,
Then you know how to bee, and can no more
Bee wrong'd but I shall finde my selfe a right.
Rich.
If you had any sparke of honesty,
You would not think that honester then I,
Were a praise high enough to serve your turne:
if men were commonly so bad as I,
Theeves would be put in Callenders for Saints;
And bones of murderers would worke miracles.
I am a kinde of knave, of knave so much—
There is betwixt mee and the vilest else,
But the next place of all to mine is yours.
Enter 2. Milkemaides, and Uiola, with pailes.
Ual.
That last is she, 'tis shee.
Rich.
Let us away, we shall infect her, let her have the
winde,
Uiola.
Wenches away for here are men.
Ualerio.
Faire maide I pray you stay.
Uio.
Alas, agen?
Rich.
Why do you lay hold on her? I pray hartily let her go.
Ual.
With all my heart, I do not meane to hurt her.
Rich.
But stand away then for the purest bodyes
VVill soonest take infection, stand away,
But for infecting her my selfe, by heaven,
I would come there and beate thee further off.
Uiola.
I know that voyce and face.
Ual.
You are finely mad, godbwy Sir, now you are here
together, I'e leave you so, god send you good lucke, both
when you are soberer, you'le give me thanks.
Exit.
Madge.
VVilt thou go milke? come.
Nan.
VVhy dost not come?
Madge.
She nods, shee's a sleepe.
Nan.
VVhat, wert up so early?
Madge.
I think your man's mad to kneele there, nay
come away ves body, Nan, help she looks black 'ith face,
Shee's in a sound.
Nan.
And you bee a man com hither, & helpe a woman.
Rich.
Come hither? you are a foole.
Nan.
And you a knave and a beast that you are.
Rich.
Come hither? 'twas being my now so neare,
That made her sowne, and you are wicked people,
Or you wood do so too, my venom eyes
Strike innocency dead at such a distance,
Here I'le kneele for this is out of distance.
Nan.
Th'art a prating Asse ther's no goodnesse in thee,
I warrant, how dost thou?
Uio.
Why? well.
Madge.
Art thou able to go?
Uio.
No, pray go you and milke, if I be able to come
I'le follow you, if not I'le sit here,
'Till you come back.
Nan.
I am loth to leave thee here with you wild foole.
Uio.
I know him well, I warrant thee, he will not hurt
mee.
Madge.
Come then Nan.
Exeunt Maides.
Rich.
How do you? be not fearefull, for I hold my hands
Before my mouth and speake, and so
My breath can never blast you.
Uio.
'Twas enough to use me ill, though you had never
sought me too mock me to, why kneele you so farr
Off, were not that gesture better us'd in prayer, had
dealt so with you, I should not sleep, till God and you had
both forgiven me.
Rich.
I do not mock, nor lives there such a villane
That can do any thing contemptible,
To you, but I do kneele because it is,
An action very fit, and reverent,
In presence of so pure a creature,
And so farr off, as fearefull to offend,
One too much wrong'd already.
Uio.
You confesse you did the fault, yet scorne to come,
So far as hither to aske pardon for't;
Which I could willingly afford to come,
To you to grant, good Sir if you have
A better love, may you be blest together,
Shee shall not wish you better then I will,
I but offend you; there are all the Iewels
I stole, and all the love I euer had,
I leave behinde with you, I'le carry now
To give another, may the next maide you try
Love you no worse, nor be no worse then I.
Rich.
Do not leave me yet for all my fault,
Search out the next things too impossible,
And put me on them when they are effected,
I may with better modesty receive
Forgivenesse from you.
Uio.
I will set no pennance,
To gaine the great forgivenesse you desire:
But to come hither and take me and it,
Or else I'le come and beg so you will grant,
That you will be content to be forgiven.
Rich.
Nay I will come since you will haue it so,
And since you please to pardon me I hope
Free from infection, here I am by you;
A carelesse man, a breaker of my faith,
A lothsome drunkard and in that wild fury:
A hunter after whores I do beseech you,
To pardon all these faultes, and take me up
An honest sober and a faithfull man.
Uio.
For gods sake urge your faultes no more, but mend,
All the forgivenesse I can make you is,
To love you which I will do and desire,
Nothing but love againe, which if I have not,
Yet I will love you still.
Rich.
O women that some one of you will take,
An everlasting pen into your hands:
And grave in paper which the writ shall make,
More lasting then the marble monuments,
Your matchlesse vertues to posterityes:
Which the defective race of envious man,
Strive to conceale.
Uio.
Me thinkes I would not now for any thing,
But you had mist me, I have made a story,
Will serve to wast many a winters fier
When we are old, I'le tell my daughters then,
The miseryes their Mother had in love:
And say my girles bee wiser, yet I would not
Have had more witt my selfe, take up those Iewells,
For I thinke I heare my fellowes coming.
Enter the Milkemaides with their pailes.
Madge.
How dost thou now?
Uio.
Why? very well I thanke you, 'tis late shall I hast home?
Nan.
I prethee vvee shall be shent soundly.
Madge.
VVhy doe's that railing man go vvith us?
Uio.
I preythee speake vvell of him, on my vvord,
Hee's an honest man.
Nan.
There was never any so one's complexion, a
Getleman?
Exeunt.
Enter Mother, Alexander, Andrugio, and his man Rowland.
Moth.
How now Alexander, what Gentleman is this?
Alex.
Indeed forsooth I know not, I found him at the
market full of woe, crying a lost daughter, and telling all
her tokens to the people; and wot you what? by all subscription
in the world, it should be our new maid Melvia,
one would little thinke it, therefore I was bold to tel him
of her Mistriss.
Mother.
Melvia? it cannot be, foole, alas you know
shee is a poore wench, and I tooke her in upon meere
charity.
And.
So seem'd my daughter when shee went away, as
she had made her selfe.
Moth.
What stature was your childe of, Sir?
And.
Not high, and of a browne complexion,
Her haire aborne, a round face, which some friends
that flattered mee, would say 'twould bee a good
one.
Alex.
This is still Melvia, Mistriss, that's the truth on't.
Moth.
It may be so I'le promise you.
Alex.
Well, goe thy wayes, the flower of our towne,
For a hand and a foote, I shall never see thy fellow.
Moth.
But had shee not such toyes, as bracelets, rings,
and Jewels?
And.
Shee was something bolde indeed, to take such
things that night she left me.
Moth.
Then belike she run away?
And.
Though she be one I love, I dare not lye, shee did
indeed.
Moth.
What thinke you of this Jewel?
And.
Yes, this was one of them, and this was mine,
you have made mee a new man, I thanke you for it.
Moth.
Nay, and she be given to filching, there is your
Jewell, I am cleare on't: but by your leave Sir, you shall
answer me for what is lost since she came hither, can tell
you there lye things scattering in every place about the
house.
Alex.
As I am vertuous, I have the lyingst olde Gentlewoman
to my Mistris, and the most malicious, the Devill
a good word will shee give a servant, that's her olde
rule; and God be thanked they'l give her as few, there is
perfect love on both sides, it yearns my heart to heare
the wench misconstrued, a carefull soule shee is i'le besworne
for her, and when shee's gone, let them say
what they will, they may cast their Capps at such another.
And.
What you have lost by her, with all my heart
I'le see you double paid, for you have sav'd
With your kinde pitty two that must not live
Unlesse it be to thanke you; take this Jewell,
This strikes off none of her offences, Mistris,
Would I might see her.
Moth.
Alexander, runne, and bid her make hast home,
shee's at the milking Close; but tell her not by any means
whoe's here, I know shee'l be too fearfull.
Alex.
Wel, wee'l have a posset yet at parting, that's my
comfort, and one round, or else i'le loose my will.
Exit.
And.
You shall finde Silvio, Uberto, and Pedro enquiring
for the Wench at the next Towne, tell them shee is
found, and where I am, and with the favour of this Gentlewoman,
desire them to come hither,
Mo.
I pray doe, they shall be all welcome.
Exit Servant.
Enter Justice, Curio, and Mark.
Justice.
By your leave forsooth you shall see me find the
parties by a slight.
Moth.
who's that? Mr. Justice? how do you Sir.
Iust.
Why very well, and busie, wher's your son.
Moth.
Hee's within Sir.
Iust.
Hum, and how does the young woman my Cozen
that came downe with him.
Moth.
Shee's above, as a woman in her case may be.
Iustice.
You have confest it? then sirha call in the
Officers; shee's no Couzen of mine; a meere tricke to discover
all.
Moth.
To discover? what?
Enter Marke and Officers.
Iustice.
You shall know that anon: I thinke you have over
reached you; ô welcome, enter the house, and by
vertue of my warrant which you have there, seize upon
the bodily persons of those whose names are there
written, to wit, one Mercury, and the wife of one Antonio.
Moth.
For what.
Iust.
Away I say,
This Gentleman shall certifie you for what.
Exit Officer.
Mother.
Hee can accuse my Sonne of nothing, hee
came from travell but within these two dayes?
Iust.
There hangs a tale.
Moth.
I should be sorry this should fall out at any time:
but especially now Sir; will you favour mee so much, as
to let me know of what you accuse him?
Cur.
Upon suspition of murther.
Moth.
Murther? I defie thee.
Curio.
I pray God hee may prove himselfe innocent.
Iust.
Fye, say not so, you shew your selfe to be no
good Common-wealths man: for the more are hang'd,
the better 'tis for the Common-wealth.
Mother.
By this rule you were best hang your selfe.
Iust.
I forgive your honest mirth ever: O, welcome, welcome
Marke.
Your penne, inke, and paper to take their examinations.
Mer.
Why do you pull me so? I'le goe alone.
Iust.
Let them stand, let them stand quietly, whilst they
are examin'd?
Wife.
What will you examine us of?
Iust.
Of Antonio's murther.
Mer.
Why, he was my friend.
Wife.
He was my husband.
Iust.
The more shame for you both; Marke, your penne
and inke.
Moth.
Pray God all be well, I never knew any of these
Travellers come to good; I beseech you, Sir, be favourable
to my Sonne.
Iust.
Gentlewoman hold you content, I would it were
come to that?
Mer.
For gods sake mother why kneele you to such a
pig bribe fellow? he has surfetted of geese, and they have
put him into a fit of Justice, let him do his worst.
Iust.
Is your paper ready?
I am ready Sir.
Enter Antonio.
Just.
Accuse them Sir, I command thee to lay down acculations
against these persons in behalfe of the State, and
first looke upon the parties to be accus'd, and deliver your
name.
Cu.
My name is Curio, my murthered Kinsman
If he were living now, I should not know him,
Tis so long since we saw one another.
Ant.
My cozen Curio?
Cur.
But thus much from the mouths of his servants, &
others, whose examinations I have in writing about me, I
can accuse them of; this Mercury, the last night, but this
last, lay in Antonio's house, and in the night he rose, raising
Antonio, where privately they were in talke an houre,
to what end I know not: but of likely-hood, finding Antonio's
house not a fit place to murther him in, hee suffered
him to goe to bed againe, but in the morning early,
he train'd him I think forth, after which time hee never
saw his home; his cloathes were found neere the place
where Mercury was, and the people at first denyed they
saw him: but at last he made a frivolous tale, that there
he shifted himselfe into a foote-mans habit: but in short,
the next houre this woman went to Mercury, and in her
Coach they posted hither; true accusations, I have no
more, and I will make none.
Just.
No more? wee need no more, Sirha, be drawing
heir Mittimus before wee heare their answer: What say
you Sir? are you guilty of this murther?
Mer.
No Sir.
Just.
Whether you are or no, confesse, it will bee the
better for you.
Mer.
If I were guilty, your Rhetoricke could not fetch
it forth: but though I am innocent, I confesse, that if I
were a stander by, these circumstances urg'd, which are
true, would make me doubtless beleeve the accused parties
to be guilty.
Just.
Write downe, that hee being a stander by, for so
you see he is, doth doubtlessely beleeve the accused parties,
which is himselfe, to be guilty.
Mer.
I say no such thing.
Just.
Write it downe I say, wee'l try that.
Mer.
I care not what you write, pray God you did not
kill him for my love, though I am free from this, we both
deserve.
Wife.
Govern your tongue I pray you, all is well, my
husband lives, I know it, and I see him.
Just.
They whisper, sever them quickly I say Officers
why do you let them prompt one another, Gentlewoman,
what say you to this, are not you guilty?
Wife.
No as I hope for mercy.
Jus.
But are not those circumstances true, that this
Gentleman hath so shortly and methodically deliver'd?
Wife.
They are; and what you do with me I care not,
Since he is dead, in whome was all my care:
You knew him not.
Jus.
No an't bin better for you too, and you had never
knew'd him.
Wife.
Why then you did not know the worlds chiefe joy
His face so manly, as it had been made,
To fright the world, yet he so sweetly temper'd;
That he would make himselfe a naturall foole,
To do a noble kindnesse for a friend,
He was a man whose name I'le not out live,
Longer then heaven whose will must be obay'd;
Will have me do.
Ant.
And I will quit thy kindnesse.
Just.
Before me she has made the teares stand in mine
eyes, but I must be austere Gentlewoman, you must confesse
this murder.
Wife.
I cannot Sir, I did it not, but I desire to see those
examinations which this Gentleman acknowledges to
have about him, for but late last night I receiv'd letters
from the Citty, yet I heard of no confession, then.
Just.
You shall see them time enough I warrant you, but
letters you say you had, where are those letters?
Wife.
Sir they are gon.
Just.
Gone? whether are they gone?
How have you dispos'd of 'em?
Wife.
Why Sir they are for womens matters, and so I
use 'em.
Just.
Who writ em?
Wife.
A man of mine.
Just.
VVho brought 'em?
Wife.
A Post.
Just.
A Post? there was some great hast sure, a ha where
is that Post?
Wife.
Sir there he stands.
Just.
Doe's hee so? bring hither that Post, I am afraid
that Post will prove a knave; come hither Post, what? what
can you say concerning the murder of Antonio?
Ant.
VVhats that to you?
Just.
O Post, you have no answer ready have you? I'le
have one from you.
Ant.
You shall have no more from mee then you have,
you examine an honest Gentleman and Gentlewoman
heere, 'tis pitty such fooles as you should bee i'the commission.
Just.
Say you so Post, take away that Post, whip him
and bring him againe quickly, I'le hamper you Post.
Mer.
'Tis Antonio, I know him now as well, what an irregular
foole is this?
Ant.
VVhip me? hold off.
Wife.
O good Sir whip him, by his murmuring he
should know some thing of my husbands death; that may
quit me, for gods sake fetch't out.
Just.
Whip him I say.
Ant.
who 'ist dares whip me now?
Wife.
O my lou'd husband.
Mer.
My most worthy friend? where have you been so
long?
Ant.
I cannot speake for joy.
Just.
VVhy, what's the matter now, and shall not law
then have her course?
Andra.
It shall have no other course then it has I thinke
Just.
It shall have other course before I go, or I'le beate
my braines, and I say it was not honestly done of him to
discover himselfe before the parties accus'd were executed
that law might have had her course, for then the
kingdome flourishes.
Ant.
But such a wife as thou, had never any man, and
such a friend as he, beleeve me wife, shall never be a good
wife, love my frend, friend love my wife, harke friend.
Iust.
Mark, if wee can have nothing to doe, you shall
sweare the peace of some body.
Mark.
Yes Sir.
Ant.
By my troth I am sorry my wife is so obstinate,
sooth if I could yet doe thee any good, I wood, faith I
wood.
Mer.
I thanke you Sir, I have lost that passion.
Ant.
Couzen Curio, you and I must be better acquainted.
Cur.
It is my wish Sir.
Ant.
I should not have known you neither, 'tis so long
shewd your selfe an honest man to me.
Cur.
I would be ever so.
Enter Richardo and Viola.
Moth.
Looke you, whoe's there.
And.
Say nothing to me, for thy peace is made.
Kic.
Sir, I can nothing say,
But that you are her Father, you can both
Not only pardon, when you have a wrong,
But love where you have most injury.
Iust.
I think I shall heare of no hanging this yeare, there
A Tinker and a Whore yet, the Cryer said that rob'd her,
and are in prison, I hope they shall be hang'd.
And.
No truly sir, they have broke prison.
Inst.
'Tis no matter, then the Jaylor shall be hang'd.
And.
You are deceiv'd in that to sir, 'twas known to bee
against his will, and he hath got his pardon, I thinke for
nothing, but if it doth cost him any thing, I'le pay it.
Just.
Marke up with your papers, away.
Mer.
O you shal stay dinner, I have a couple of brawling
neighbours, that I'le assure you will not agree, and you
shall have the hearing of their matter.
Just.
With all my heart.
Mer.
Go, Gentlemen, go in.
Rich.
O Uiola, that no succeeding age,
Might loose the memory of what thou wert,
But such an overswayed sex is yours,
That all the vertuous actions you can do,
Are but as men will call them, and I sweare,
'Tis my beliefe that women want but wayes;
To praise their deeds, but men want deeds to praise.
Exeunt omnes.
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