 | The Hollander |  |
Actus Quartus
Scena prima.
Enter Doctor and Lady Yellow.Doct.
Tis a strange humour Madam, and condemnes
Your judgement of much indiscretion,
Did I not know it lawfull; nay no way
But that for the recovery of your health,
I should not urge it thus, you are lately falne
Into a desperate melancholy, and your blood
Can no way purge so well as by
Performance of what I have declar'd.
Lady.
Truth sir I weigh not at so high a rate, my life
That to prolong it to an irkesome age,
I should destroy my honour, neither doe I
Finde any such strange sickenesse raining on me
As you have urg'd; pray as you love me sir,
Unlesse you meane to drive me from
The house, repeate this argument no more.
Enter Sir Martine and Vrinall.
Urin.
Why looke you sir, my master has
Perswaded her as much as lay in him, and
She is too honest believe it, for your nephew Sir Martine, shee
His kept her chamber ever since she came,
None but my selfe has seene her.
Sir Mar.
It shall be so, the holy law of heaven
Made us one individuall, the strickt league
'Twixt man and wife, ought to confine both soules
To a most constant union, injur'd woman.
Lady.
My husband and on the suddaine, speake you to me sir.
Vrin.
His mouth opend Ime sure, sir the Dutch Gentleman.
Doct.
O my sonne Sconce, come hither Vrinall.
Lady.
This acknowledgement cannot
Be serious from him, good Sir Martine
Has your wilde fancy not impos'd enough,
Temptations on my fraylty that you come after
So many strange indignities, againe to delude me.
Sir Mar.
Tis misery of customary sinners when they meane
A reall truth, then their precedent ills,
Deprive it credit, Madam not that night,
That sacred night which spred its starry wings,
(Like Curtaines shadowing the Altar) ore
Our Hymeneall couch, could witnesse more
Sincerity of indissolving love 'twixt us,
Then does this minute, if your soule,
(Which is so passive it may justly challenge
A Martyrs temper) can dispense with pas'd
Absurd distastes, and like a Saint for humane
Condition is too vengefull freely pardon
What I amisse have acted.
Lady.
As you are my husband sir, and consequently my head.
Vrin.
How many Lad ies in towne are of that minde.
Lady.
And ought to be the guider of my youth,
I will not stand on that nice terme of honour,
With you whom duty ties me to observe
With more then superficiall care, t'injoyne
A penance for your folly; the light smoake
Findes not a surer buriall in the ayre
(To whose embraces with ambitious haste
In this forgiving bosome, this pure kisse seales the agreement.
Sir Mar.
She offred first too, and me thought she kis'd
As she would eate my lips, the ravenous touch
Sir Mar. starts.
Of her hot flesh has seard me up like grasse
In summer time, and her fowle breath like blasts
Of Southerne windes, has quickned my dead fire
Of jealousie, nay rais'd it to a greater
Heat then my former.
Lady.
What ayle you sir on the suddaine?
Sir Mar.
Viper, toad, out of my presence, ere my just wak'd
Rage, get to its height, whence like a Falcon towring
At full pitch ore the trembling fowle, it will sease on thee.
Doct.
Madam tis best to leave him, I feare he's absolutly franticke;
Vrinall looke to him, least he act some violence on himselfe,
please your Ladiship withdraw.
Lady.
Soft patience guard my heart: wheres no offence,
one safely may rely on innocence.
Exit Lady and Doctor.
Vrin.
Why sir Martine, how doe you sir? not speak? now by my
life, hee lookes like a staggerell newly come to his Hornes,
flings his head just in that manner they do not touch the feeling,
yet Sir Martine: in time they may be three and foure at top, and
serve to hang hats and cloakes on in the best knights hall in
towne.
Sir Mar.
O Vrinall.
Vrin.
O Vrinall, what a pittifull noate was there, that very
sound has almost crack'd me to pieces: Sir Martine, good Sir
Martine what ayles you? or rather what ayles your wife, that
you hum and haw so after kissing her her breath is savory, I dare
bee sworne shee has neither eaten Onions nor drunke Aquavitæ.
Sir Mar.
O no, she is like a too ripe, so extreamely sweet,
Shee poisons like the hony which small Bees
Sucke from the Aconite, the Panther so
Breaths odors pretious as the Sarmaticke gums
Of Easterne groves, but the delicious sent not taken in at
Distance choakes the sense with the too muskie favor.
You should have kis'd her as the Court fashion is, upon
the cheeke, but pray sir, why are you so jealous: yet cannot prove
your Lady has a trick with her toe, or turnes oftner then an honest
woman (if shee do) had not you better like an old Stag, cast
the cognisance of your order into the hedge, then like a wanton
Pricket, runne full Butte at every one you meet, as who should
say; take notice of my horns. I am ashamed of it so I am.
S. Mar.
Do'st not believe I am? a hideous cuckold.
Vrin.
And must you needs cry Cuckow therefore. There are
knights in towne who know their Ladies to be Hens oth' game,
and live by tredding, yet like mettle Cockes they never hang the
Gills for't, they are sure faire Gamesters use to pay the boxe well:
especially at In, and In, (the Innes of Court Butlers would have
had but a bad Christmas of it else) and what care they, so they
can purchase plush, though their wives pay ith' hole for it.
Sir Mar.
Can there be such monsters?
Vrin.
Monsters, they are men Sir Martine, such as you are;
only they are velvet browd a little: but heare me Sir, if a man
would venture faire offer to give a certaine knowledge of your
wifes honesty.
Sir Mar.
Doe that, and be my genius Urinall.
Vrin.
You would have an evill Angell of me, Ile tell you sir,
my master intends privately this night to wed his daughter to
the Dutch younker Sconce, the house will be atquiet, and your
Lady left alone in her chamber, her sister Mistris Knoworth, being
to goe to Church with them.
Sir Mar.
What of this?
Vrin.
Soft and faire Sir Martine, I will ith' evening steale you
into the Ladies chamber when she's in bed, come to her, and in
the darke, (thats the only time to deale with a woman) (and as
another man) trie what you can doe with her: if she consent
(the worst) you doe but cuckold your selfe, if hold out, being a
woman alone, in bed, and in the dark having a man standing by
her, you may then conclude her an honest wife, and your jealousie
foolish, as your vexation needlesse, you thinke I have no wit
now I warrant.
Sir Mar.
According as my soule could wish.
Vrin.
Why law you then, who's the fooole now? Sir Martine
Sir Mar.
Nor I hopes of triall, fare you well,
A jealous man has in his heart his hell.
Ex. Sir Mar.
Vrin.
well knight, if I doe not fit your jealous head, let me bee
sung in ballads for an erranter coxcombe then your selfe.
Enter Mistris Artlesse, Mistris Mixum, and Dalinea.
Mist. Art.
Well said minx, you will not have him: but you had
best consider and doe as I and your father would have you: or
you shall trudge for it, you shall be his wife.
Mist. Mix.
Nay in sadnesse Mistris Dal. you are too blame, the
gentleman is an honest gentleman, I and a kinde man I warrant
him to a woman; your mother and I have made triall of him,
and finde him of a very good disposition, come chicke you shall
have him.
Mrs. Art.
Nay let her chuse and bee hangd, proud baggage
who will refuse a gentleman of my owne chusing, but Ile send
him to you and see if thou darst deny him, for thy life, come
Mistris Mixum.
Exeunt Mistris Artlesse and Mistris Mixum.
Dal.
Was ever innocent virgin thus betrayd
By cruelty of parents, who for wealth
Have sold my youth to slavery, the cold
Ashes of injurd maids surround my heart,
Or some divine dew, stead of blood replenish
My swelling veins, circle my thought with Ice,
Thou power of chastity, that like the fresh
Primrose uncropt, by any hand, I may
Returne my selfe as pure and white
To earth, as when I came from't.
Vrin.
How doe you Mistris Dal. alasse poore gentlewoman,
would they have thee coverd with a Frisland horse, a Dutch Stallion:
now shame upon their soules that wish it, he's neighing
here already.
Enter Sconce.
Scon.
Vrinall, my cosen Fortresse and the rest oth' Knights will
be here presently; pray you prepare the musicke and the wine,
Vrin.
Of a most absolute coxcombe, I shall provide them sir.
Dal.
Now begins my horror, the fatall Bell should it proclaime
my death, were spheare-like musicke to his night-crowes
voyce; yet I must heare it and retaine my sense, continue subject
to a daily noyse from the ill boding monster.
Scon.
Lady or Madamosell, Vfroe or Seniora, what you please,
or in what language to be entituled the Mistris of my thoughts,
the complemental garbe is customary, and though I have learn'd
by conversation with the Twibill Knights to kisse my hand, believe
me I had rather bestow my lips on yours; our naturall Dutch
contracting is the best, without deceit or shadow, there we only
goe to th'taverne and be ungue browd, then drunke together.
Ther's all our ceremony, and tis lawfull marriage too.
Dal.
Would you would sir, better consider with your selfe and
march where your own customes are observ'd, my feare my quality
will never suite the liking of your Dutch manners.
Scon.
Manners Lady, you mistake I've none at all; ere we will
disagree about manners, Ile be as clownish as an Upland Bore,
foutra, tell a Dutch man of manners?
Dal.
Yet sir have so much charity.
Scon.
We detest that worse then the former, tis Papisticall, and
was with that religion banish'd our reform'd Common-wealth:
but to our businesse, pretty soule, I shall give thee touch mon and
get a burger of thee.
Dal.
Gentle sir, there ought to be in manhood a divine
Pitty, believe me as I tender truth,
I cannot set the smallest of my thoughts
On your ill welcome love, therefore I beseech you
Not to proceed in my unfortunate match
Which will be fatall to us both, for goodnesse
Have so much mercy on me
Scon.
An excellent touch that, as if there could be mercy in a
Dutch-man, and to a woman? if there had beene any, the Nuns
at Tilmont had not beene us'd so horribly last summer: why
should you say you cannot love me? tis a false touch Ime certaine
of it, I shall know anone, till when receive your lips in pledge
anone we must to the old touch of Matrimony.
Ex. Sco.
Dal.
The hand of death
Shall give me first a bride to some darke grave,
Where I will mixe with wormes before the Priest
Knit so unjust an union, the kinde grasse
Will sure be greene still on my Sepulchre, and spotlesse
Virgins annually dance a fairy ring about it.
Enter Vrinall and Popingay in disguised clothes.
Vrin.
Now if you doe not catch a Roach in her troubled waters,
I shall conclude you a gudgion: speake to her, a woman has ever
a hole open to receive a mans tale, believe it you shall have
my assistance, and if I doe not second you confidently, may my
tongue be cramped, my wit breech'd; and the machina of my invention
ruind perpetually.
Pop.
Fairest creature.
Dal.
Had you said wretched'st, Mistris you had given me
My proper attribute.
Pop
Can there be on earth,
A savagenesse so great as will conspire
To afflict so rich a goodnesse? yet by your eyes
Adorn'd by those cleare pearles which doe transforme
Even sorrow to a lovelinesse beyond
Indifferent beauty, I conceive some fiend
Rested in humane shape (for man would never
Have dar'd so vile a sacrilege) in hope
By your pure teares, t'extinguish his owne flames
Caus'd this distemper in you.
Vrin.
Pish you are long to speed, be
Short and quick, that pleases Ladies.
Pop.
I had a younger brother, though not fully blest
In your sweet knowledge, yet once his tounge
Was his hearts bold embassador, and deliver'd
A true narration of his zealous love,
Which is in him so permanent, that when
his eares receive a notice that your faith
Of balefull hemlocke to his braine, convert it
Either to suddaine madnesse or a sleep, cold and erelasting.
Dol.
I remember once a nephew of Sir Martines did sollicit
That which he term'd my love, but I conceiv'd
His meaning rather was to cause discourse,
Then that his strict intention had resolved
His promises performance.
Vrin.
Did I not tell you she would come about?
Pop.
Trust me Lady, the solitary Nightingale who sings
To her lost honour a harmonious ditty,
Loves not the thorne so dearely, to whose pricks
She sets her featherd bosome, as Ime sure
My brother tenders you, the gawdy light
May sooner be obscur'd by wandring smoake:
Nay the eternall essence of the soule
Become corpo reall and revisite earth,
After its flight to paradise, ere he
Descend to variation of his love, could you affect him.
Dal.
Had your brother been
Of the same disposition and soft sweetnesse
That I perceive in you (though this be our
First enterview) there could not have beene molded
(Had I beene borne to entertaine loves heat)
A man that would so fitly sympathize
With my condition, nor whom I should fancy
With more intire perfection.
Vrin.
Strike home, and sure the iron's hot already,
Pop.
Behold him Lady,
Whose every motion does as from the spheare,
Receive a lively influence from your lookes;
The modest silence of the temperate Even,
When zephire softly murmures to the flowers
A wholesome farewell undisturb'd by stormes,
May sooner rest in one continued night,
Then can my soule in quiet without just
Assurance of your love, which if you grant,
Times native Belman, the shield Organd Cocke
The earely Larke that whispers to the Sun
A constant Augury of a beauteous day,
Shall lose his light plumes in the checkerd Clouds,
Ere I my resolute chastity, nor can you
Invent evasions to declare my suite,
Since on its grant relyes the only hopes
Of your redemption from the barbarous armes,
Of him you were espous'd to.
Dal.
This surprize,
And your strong vowes would batter a resolve,
Downe in a brest that could be flexible
To easy love, but since I cannot frame
My conscience to a warrantable zeale
Toward any man, Ile rather fixe my hate
(For that must of necessity accrue
To him that weds me) on a person worthy
Contempt, then on your selfe, whose worth do's challenge
A noble and reciprocall regard
For your affection, blessings on ye sir, thinke not amisse of me.
Exit Dalinea.
Vrin.
Now the curse of a tedious virginity light on ye, you
will not be tupped by a Dutch Ram, a Hausen Kender, a Westfally
Bore-pig, now the iniquity of a swagbellied Hollands
Burgers get thee with childe of a dropsie, if thou marriest him,
why how now Master Popingay, stroken with a Plannet? tis a female
Star, as changeable as the Moone, goe to your chamber, I
heare company approaching, this Dutch Butter-Firkin shall bee
melted to grease ere he shall have her, trust to it.
Pop.
Passion on passion fall when hopes are spent,
The best of comforts is a forc'd content.
Exit.
Vrin.
So here comes my blades, now plot but hit,
And Vrinall shall be stil'd the Lord of wit.
Exit.
Enter Sconce, Fortresse, and Knights.
Scon.
Cosen Fortresse welcome, welcome Captaine Pirke, valiant
brothers, nay gentlemen, then your accoutrements be of
souldiers to weare off reckonings, the time shall come the little
worme shall weave, and silken tribute pay to men of service,
give me your hands gentlemen, I shall be one of you anone, but
Cosen Fortresse, what bashfull youth is that that dares not thrust
his nose out of his coate, for feare the winde should blow it
to his face, ha?
Fort.
Tis flat enough already, this my Jo, nay show thy Phisnomy,
h'is our quondam trusty attendant, but now Knight of the
Twibill, Pithagoras Pig.
Scon.
Is this the famous off-spring of great hog? we should be
kindred certainely, my Ancestors were Bores, give me thy forefoot
sirrha, and tell me coz, why dost not wander into a new
skin? this begins to crackle vilely.
Pirk.
O tis for want of basting sir.
Fort.
No my Jo, hee casts his skin but once a yeare, like the
poore snake: well, he has done our Order speciall service; but
coz, where are the preparations the vancarriors coz, to the solemnity
of your instalment? renounce me, if you vilifie the institution
by disregard of properties, this hand shall never crosse the
Twibill ore thy head, nor give thee thy avant chevalier, while
thou art mortall my Jo, I say I shall not.
Pirk.
No matter sir Sconce, by the head of valor, my selfe shall
dub thee.
Fort.
Who you King Twadle? Mushrome you dub him?
Pirk.
Yes, I Gog, Magog, I dub him Garantua.
Ent. Vrin.
Scon.
Nay good cosen Fortresse, Captaine Pirke, this Vrinall I
could e'ne fill him to the brim with curses, but here's my agent;
come where are the musitioners Vrinall?
Urin.
They will bee loud enough by and by, I warrant
you.
Fort.
This is legitimate blood of the Spanish grape my Jo.
Scon.
Lusty sacke credit me coz, twill give the touch, Urinall
make fast the doore, and leave us, and give us notice if any body
approach.
Vrin.
What haste this gull makes to cheat himselfe in private,
must the musicke enter?
Fort.
No by no meanes, weel call to them through the doore,
varlet avoide.
Scon.
I like it well when it begins with drinks, tis a signe
twill end merrily; this cup is abominable to little, one can
scarce wet his whistle out of it, it shall be this goblet, a vostre
grace, coz Fortresse.
Fort.
Sir Pithagoras we doe create you skinker, it shall goe
round my blades, you shall dible in liquor of account; here brother
Make-shift.
Make,
Gramercies Captaine.
Pirk.
Choake you sir, learne manners, offer to drinke before
betters, tis an affront to seniority, destroy me if I can suffer this,
no forsake me Captaine I cannot.
Scon.
There was a touch for you brother Makeshift, but good
little Pirke be patient.
Mak.
This Preface is very Cannonical my Io, nay, I shal learn
the phrases instantly.
Pig.
Have you all had it brothers?
Pig.
All but my selfe Sir Holofernes.
Scon.
Who my coz Pig, off sup off thy wash my Jo, at worst
thou canst but be swine-drunke; but coz, shall we dispatch? I long
to be instald.
Fort.
I now we'l to't, come hither Captaine, sing the hymne
preparatory to Knight-hood, but wet your pipes first, Ganimed,
they'l squeake the better.
Scon.
An admirable touch this, what's next troe?
Song.
Fort
Now coz Sconce, our Order does constraine us to a frisk, a
dance about you, as the Fairies tred about their great King Oberon.
Pirk.
But can this musicke play the Twibill dance, none else
will satisfie.
Scon.
Musicke you must play the Twibill dance he sayes, dance,
so while.
Dance.
They dance, the wine shall tread a sink apace into my
belly, you have lost one of your best heels cosen.
Fort.
No me Jo, twas off before the ceremony is halfe accomplish'd,
you are our ward rope keeper, brother Knockedowne have
you brought the vestments of our Order?
Knocke.
Fuse Captaine not I.
Pirk.
Rot me sir, you would be made to fetch them.
For.
How, not our robes of honor the ensignes of our chevalry?
Knock.
Sinke me, sir you know they are in tribulation.
Hell take the Broker: we must perforce imploy one of
our owne suits.
Knock
Take my Buffe Jerkin Captaine.
Make.
Death keepe it on, you'll shew your dirty shirt.
Pirke.
Found you sir, you lye: I fathome in your guts, hee has
none on.
Make.
How, sonne of foule Adultery, the lye?
For.
What doe you blunder, whifflers Pigge, are you grunting
too: shall I whet my Twibill on your bones mips of debility?
Scon.
Nay, Cosen, Gentlemen rather than you shall fall out,
Ile be content to bee dub'd in my own cloathes: nay pray you
Gentlemen.
For.
Tis against order, and we must observe ceremony.
Scon.
O by all meanes Coz.
For.
First then receive this cap of maintenance.
Scon.
Cap of Maintenance doe you call it? I will maintaine
when this old Cap was new, 'twas a Dutch felt, but now tis
nine degrees below a straw Hat; I doe not like this touch: but
Coz I shall have my Bever agen I hope?
Fort.
How? suspitious my Io: Brother Knockdowne disroab
his necke of this old linnen, favours of a winding-sheet: this is
Decimo Sexto, feares no rumpling: Now Cosen Sconce, you must
discusse your doublet.
Scon.
That will be damn'd instantly; pray heaven my skinne
scape.
For.
Here sir, receive this Military Cassocke, 't has seene
service.
Scon.
'Thas been shot through both the Elbowes; this Military
Cassocke has I feare, some Military hangbyes: this Twibill
Knight-hood is but a lousie Order, would I had ne're medled
with it.
Fort.
Now you appeare something above an Embrio: Makeshift
helpe to untrusse his breeches.
Scon.
I shall be whipt instantly: But Cozen Fortresse, is there
no redemption for my Breeches?
Pirke.
Sume me Captaine, tis not requisite he should put off his
Breeches.
Thankes good Captaine Pirke, twas a friendly touch that.
Pir.
May not his transitory money serve to excuse his breeches?
Fort.
To him it may.
Pir.
A Twibill Knight ought to regard no money, but the glistring
steele.
Scon.
Well, since it must be so, there take my money.
Knock.
Paw sir, you lose the priviledge of the Order, if you
respect your money.
Scon.
Now doe I looke like—as if I were new come from
the Lottery: or what say you Sir Holofernes, to the Picture of
the Prodigal in the painted Cloath? Sure I have now perform'd
all the Ceremonies; if not, Ime sure I have nothing else left
to performe withall.
Fort.
So, now kneele downe, while thus I thee create: Ieremias
Sconce, Knight of the order of Twibill. Now avaunt
Chevaleire.
Omn.
Health to our worthy Brother, Ieremias Sconce, Knight
of the Twibill.
Fort.
But brothers, there is Sacke yet to be drunke, in Celebration
of this Knight-hood.
Scon.
I like this drinking heartily; there's some goodnesse in't:
will you beginne, my Captaine Generall; Ile call you so now.
Fort.
Pythagoras, fill his Bowle up. Capt. Pirk this Cornucopia
To my Leiftenant Generalls health: Ile call you so now.
Scon.
A place of Marke and Charge that.
Pirke.
Man of valour, respect this Cup to the health of our Leift.
Generall.
Mark.
A vous brother Knockdowne.
Knock.
Here Sir Barrabas.
Scon.
Altogether gentlemen, a health Musitians,
sound.
Gentlemen all tres humblement serviture vostre: I ha done you
right.
Fort.
Expect me Jo; heart of my father, you must for consummation
of your installment, drinke a cup a piece to each of us.
Scon.
Twas my intention Generall: to you all in generall,
helpe
Pith.
Let it be two Captaine, tis pitty to put so many
worthy men in a pint pot.
Perk.
Soule of my valour, y'are ship'd sir, you must drinke five
together.
Y'are wanton Captaine, a wag upon my Knight-hood,
you meane to measure the profundit of my belly, twill bee a
hard taske to doe it to a Dutch-man—looke you Captaine.
Fort.
Thou shalt be my Bacchus Io, he drinkes as if hee had
eaten Pickle Herring.
Scon.
This Cup was as deepe as Fleet-street Conduit. Sound
me my Io, I ha' made a new River in my Belly, and my Guts are
the Pipes: Tother cup good wreckling, vertue shall be vertue
still, so long as I can stand Captaine.
Fort.
That will not be long I hope.
Enter Vrin.
Scon.
This Coller spoyles my drinking, or else this Sack has
horse-flesh in't, it rides upon my stomacke. O Urinall, Ime a
Knight of the Twibill honest Urinall.
Vrin.
Take heede you'll crush me sir to pieces. Gentlemen
yonder are the Constables at the doore to apprehend Captaine
Fortresse.
Scon.
Some more sacke sirrah, I shall be married anon.
For.
That's I, tis for the linnen brothers: Hell my Io, how
shall I scape them?
Scon.
More Sacke sirrah, the tother touch sweet Pig, the tother
touch.
Vrin.
There is no way but one sir, they have beset the house;
my Master is perswading them. Follow mee, Ile by a backe
way set you safely out with your company.
For.
Noble Vrinall: come Blades here's purchase for us.
Exit Urinall cum Knights.
Scor.
This is but foure Cups captaine Cosen Pigge. Skinke
my parting Cup, and then I'me gone: ha! where be you Gentlemen,
I am not blinde, or play you at Boe-peep? they are gone,
this is a pretty touch, my touch my Jo, with my money and
Cloathes, a pretier touch still, let me see, they have left some
Sacke behind them, there's my comfort yet.
Ent. Poping. and Lovring in womans cloaths.
Who's this? my wife that must bee.
Come hither wife, thou seest the worst of me
I am but drunke: Kisse me Borankee: never feare, I will not
spoyle thy gorget. Hark in thy eare my Io, shall I have a gentle
touch? twill doe no harme, wee are to be marryed anon thou
know'st; I shall get wise children on thee.
What wouldst thou ravish me libidinous Swine?
Strive, and thou dyest.
strikes up his heeles.
Scon.
Twas an unkinde touch that, my Io, you might have pray
falne under me, 't had beene the fitter place for a woman,
helpe me up agen.
Lov.
Yes, to thy death, if thou deny t'performe what I enjoyne
thee.
Scon.
How, kill a Knight of the Twibill, and in the Ensignes
of his owne Order, ere it shall be said to the disgrace of Knight-hood,
that any of the fraternity was kild by a woman, Ile doe
any thing: Lead on, Ile follow you.
Pop.
Thus they must strive,
Who in loves subtle Merchandise will thrive.
Exeunt.
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