University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Private Room in the Queen's Arms.
Enter Ralph.
Ralph.
Look to thy birthright, Ralph!—Avails it not
To be thy mother's son that nature made,
Thou must be offspring of her humour too!
Is't fault of thine that thou art not a wall?
But listenest, when men, in earshot, tell
Their loose-kept secrets! Gentleman, forsooth!
My gentleman's gentleman!—the scrub of him!
The helper o' the scrub—a counterfeit,
Not worth the brad should nail it to the counter,—
To some vile counter,—has been taken thence;
And the base metal coin'd anew, to pass,
To pass for honest coin! 'Twon't pass with me!
He trusts to make his fortune by the priest—
Of some rich dame the favour sweet to win—
And thereunto he follows the queen's court;
But stopping, on his way, at Romford, here
Sets eye upon the linnet I would lime,
And tarries at our house. But, lest he spoil
My sport, I've pointed out the bush to him
Where sits a goldfinch—but a painted one—
Our Kate, that vows to wed a gentleman!—
Our chambermaid! to seek her fortune, come
Like him to Romford, and alighted here.
He takes her for a maid of noble stock;
In her own right, a costly heiress, flying
Compell'd espousals, and, in the disguise
Of lowly chambermaid, close crouching, here
To shun pursuit.—Ha! Here she comes!—Good day.
Enter Kate.
Sweet Kate.

Kate.
Hold off! I'm Kate too sweet for thee!

Ralph.
Indeed! When shall we call thee wife, sweet Kate?

Kate.
When thou hold'st stirrup to my husband!

Ralph.
How!
Will nothing less content thee? Marry, Kate,
Marry thy match, or count to die a maid!

Kate.
My match is he that fits my thought, not thine.

Ralph.
Thy match is he that fits thy fortune, Kate.

Kate.
Not so, when I my fortune am above.

Ralph.
Their fortune, who're above, oft fall below.

Kate.
Leave me to look to that.

Ralph.
Look to it, then,
Thy new year's gift I'll double for thee, Kate,
If, ere the year comes round, thou curtsey not
The wife of honest hind!

Kate.
The hind I'll wed
Thou'lt touch thy bonnet to!

Ralph.
Ay, shall I, Kate,
When he to me doffs his.

Kate.
Doffs his to thee?
He first shall doff his head!

Ralph.
Nay, Kate, be friends!
Not only do I wish thee well to wed,
But, if I could, would help thee, pretty Kate;
And I can help thee, if thou'rt in the mood.

Kate.
What! in the mood to help thee to a jest?

Ralph.
Thyself be judge! The gentleman that came
On Wednesday, throws soft glances at thee, Kate—
Is that a jest? I've heard, thy cousin, Kate,
Was cousin's cousin to the cousin of
An earl, sweet Kate—I've told him so! Is that
A jest? Thou know'st how windfalls come—How men
To-day but ragged knaves, next day are seen
To strut as robéd lords—how oft the tree
Of noble family has wither'd, branch
By branch, till none to bear its honours left,
They're gone to cover some poor distant graft,
The parent stock ne'er threw its shadow on!
Why may't not hap to thee?—I think it may—
I wish it may—and, as 'tis easy, Kate,
To fancy what we wish, I've told him, thou
An heiress art, and hast a title, too!
Is that a jest? Let but thy bearing back
My giving out, I'd marvel not if ere
A quarter of a year—a month—a week,
I doff my bonnet to thy spouse, indeed!
Is that a jest?

Kate.
Ralph, thou'rt an honest lad!

Ralph.
When thou repair'st to church, may I, sweet Kate,
Make bold to kiss thee when the knotting's done?

Kate.
I shall not mind, for old acquaintance, Ralph.

Ralph.
And when thou'rt married, may I sometimes call?

Kate.
Ay, mayst thou, Ralph.

Ralph.
How often?—Once a year?

Kate.
I'll not be angry, Ralph, though it be twice.

Ralph.
How kind thou art!—and when I call, sweet Kate,
Wilt bid the lackey ask me in?

Kate.
I will.

Ralph.
And order Master Ralph a cup of sack,
To drink thy health, while in the hall he stands?

Kate.
As sure as I shall be a lady, Ralph.

Ralph.
Thou shalt be married to a gentleman!
And here he comes—Observe him, bonny Kate,
The visage, figure, habit, air, and walk
Of gentleman! To note his only gait,
A man would say, or he lack'd brains, there goes
At least a handsome thousand pounds a year!
When thou shalt call him spouse! Away, my Kate.
Don thou a whiter 'kerchief—change this cap
For thy Sunday one, with bows as broad and red
As full-blown peonies! and, soon as done,
Come back again, when thou shalt find him here—
And troll that pretty song you sang to us
On Tuesday night—as though you mark'd him not.
Love in his heart be sure hath taken root—
See how 'twill grow apace and come to fruit!
Bear thee as lofty gentlewoman, Kate;
Go proudly, Kate, and not as chambermaid!
Of maids thou shalt be mistress!—Well done, Kate!
[Kate goes out.
Here comes, indeed, my gentleman, from top
To toe new-furnish'd, as on conquest bent.

[Retires up stage.
Enter Young Small.
Young S.
Debate it thus. What's love? It is not land
Or gold. 'Tis not attire or tenement;
Or meat or drink! What is the worth on't then?
Nothing! It makes not wise—for these are things
That wise men covet, and 'twould counsel me
To part with them. It makes not great—great men
Hath love undone. 'Tis not content—I ne'er
Saw lover yet but he was woe-begone!
Its signs are willows, darts, and bleeding hearts!
I'll none on't, I'm resolved! Sweet mistress Bess!

Ralph.
Sweet mistress Kate thou mean'st.

Young S.
Right, Master Ralph.
Yet mistress Bess is sweet! But what of that
'Tis fit a gentleman a lady wed—
So Kate 's the maid for me! I'll conquer love!
Love 's no small thing to conquer. Men fall sick
For love—go mad for love!—hang, drown themselves!—
But love has met its match when it meets me!
You see I'm ready, Ralph.

Ralph.
I see you are.
Ay, that's the way to go a-wooing!

Young S.
What,
It strikes you?

Ralph.
Yes!

Young S.
The jerkin 's a new cut,
Or else the tailor 's perjured—Oath he took
It should be made as never jerkin was!

Ralph.
His oath he has kept!

Young S.
You mark my doublet too?

Ralph.
Else lack'd I eyes.

Young S.
And how the sleeves are slash'd?

Ralph.
'Tis slashing work indeed! She must have heart
Of stone, gives she not in.

Young S.
A fine effect!
And then my hat!—What think you of the set?

Ralph.
A gallant set—a very gallant set,
Most valiantly turn'd up!

Young S.
The feather red!
Blood-red! and nearly of a rapier's length!
The loop of warlike steel! So, what with loop,
Feather, and set, methinks it is a hat
Cries—“Touch me not.”

Ralph.
Methinks it is.

Young S.
'Twas made
To special order!

Ralph.
So 'twould seem.

Young S.
You know
They like a gallant bearing. I would look
A very Hector, when I go to woo!

Ralph.
And thou hast hit it.

Young S.
On your honour, now?

Ralph.
Else never man hit anything.

Young S.
Indeed!
I thank you, master Ralph. I'm glad you're pleased.
You have a taste! Beshrew me but you have!
How would you have me wear my rapier? So?
Or so?

Ralph.
Why, so—It better shows the hilt.

Young S.
A pretty hilt? I bought it for the hilt.
The cutler would have palm'd upon me one
Of better blade! He thought he had a fool
To deal with! Buy a rapier for the blade!
Who shows the blade?

Ralph.
Most true.

Young S.
I think I'll do.

Ralph.
No doubt on't—Here she comes, sir.—That's her voice.
Didst ever hear her sing, sir?

[Kate sings without.
Young S.
Never.

Ralph.
No!
Then never did you hear a nightingale.
Apart till awhile, sir, you'll hear her voice.

Enter Kate, and sings.

Ralph.
Up to her, sir—yet hold! I'll whisper her
A word, commending thee. Your gentle blood
Is skittish, sir, and mettlesome—Behoves
You tenderly approach, yet watchfully;
'Tis quick of instinct too, to know its kind.
Was ever balance poised by thee or thine,
Yard flourish'd, counter brush'd, or ledger scrawl'd,
'Tis odds she'll apprehend it in a trice.
Thank fate, thou art indeed a gentleman!

Young S.
[Aside.]
I'd thank it, never had I pass'd for one.
A score of crowns for my own clothes again!
What if she find, despite the tailor's craft,
The hatter's, jeweller's, and milliner's,
My suit is not a fit!—undress me!—bid me
Put on the counter clothes again, and wait
Upon my father's customers! The thought
Has set my heart a-thumping! Thomas Small!
Better thou hadst remain'd thy father's dog,
Than ta'en a roam to Romford.

Ralph.
Kate, behoves
Thou bear thyself as lofty gentlewoman.
If he looks ten feet high, do thou look twenty;
When he accosts thee, eye him up and down,
And down and up again from head to foot;
He verily believes thou art a lady,
Keep him to that—Thy arms a-kimbo put—
Walk to and fro, and toss thy pretty head!
Behoves fine ladies give themselves fine airs,
Or who would know them fine—
Up to her now.

[To Young Small.
Young S.
Fair Kate, a word I fain would speak to thee.

Kate.
[Following Ralph's direction.]
Sir!

[Young Small starts back, Kate walks about as instructed.
Ralph.
Now, stick up to her, or, as I live,
You'll lose her, sir. Set thou to work as well,
Pace to and fro, a yard at every step—
Great men, I have remark'd, take mighty strides—
That's right!—She stops—Now to the charge again!
Tell her thou hast a guess of her estate;
'Twill soften her—but mind thou nothing bate
The feeling of thine own, as right thou shouldst not!
Thou art, from top to toe, a gentleman!

Young S.
A cunning man who feels himself to be
The man he knows he is not! I perceive
'Tis not the clothes that make the gentleman.
Odzooks! she traversed me from top to toe,
As she would lay me open with her eye.
I vow I feel as I were like to swoon—
O Little Cheap!—Snug Little Cheap! As much
As once I wish'd me out of thee, I now
Wish I were back again!

Ralph.
Now, pretty Kate,
Let's calm a little—thou hast quite convinced him.
Thou art, indeed, a gentlewoman born;
Put off a cloud or two, and now and then,
When next he speaks, give out a blink of sun,
But not that he forget 'twas tempest, Kate.
Take out thy 'kerchief—hast thou one. Now draw it
From corner unto corner—be it clean.
Now pass it 'cross thy face, and back again;
Now use it so, as ladies do a fan;
Betray a little agitation, Kate;
Swing on one foot thy body to and fro,
And with thy other beat upon the ground.
Now, sir, at once propose for her—speak up!
Have not a faint heart!

Young S.
No!

Ralph.
Remember you're
A gentleman.

Young S.
I do!

Ralph.
And so you are
From top to toe!

Young S.
I thank you, Ralph—You're good.

Ralph.
And so your father was before you, sir,
And quite as much his father before him;
Was he not, sir?

Young S.
Ay, quite as much, good Ralph,
Or, if he was not, I'm no gentleman.

Ralph.
Then, now at once propose for her. Hem! twice
Or thrice before you speak, and broadly hint
At her gentility.

Young S.
Engaging Kate—
As gentleman should gentlewoman wed,
So fain would I to wife take thee, sweet Kate!
[Turns to Ralph.
And now I must take breath! I tell thee, Ralph,
To woo a lady is no easy thing.

[Retires.
Ralph.
Kate, canst thou blush? If not, why hang thy head,
And look as though thou knew'st not where to look,
And clasp thy hands and twirl thy thumbs about,
And make a shift to squeeze out half a sigh,
But loud enough to hear. Well done! well done!
Bespeaks her every way a gentlewoman—
Does she not, sir?

[To Young Small.
Young S.
Upon my life it does.

Ralph.
Now bring her to the point of yes or no.

Young S.
Of yes or no?

Ralph.
Yes!

Young S.
Yes or no! I vow
I tremble at the thought on't—Just I feel
As though I play'd at loggats, and a pound
Were laid upon the game, and mine the throw.

Ralph.
Well, sir?

Young S.
Good Ralph—I'll take a little time.

Ralph.
So do. He comes to pop the question, Kate.
When first he speaks, no answer render him:
Nor yet the second time—nor yet the third.

Kate.
No, Ralph?

Ralph.
Be patient, Kate! It were not meet,
In such a strait, a lady speak at once!
The thought should seem to take away thy breath;
Thou shouldst appear as thou wast like to faint,
And do, sweet Kate!—I'll be beside thee—Fall
Upon my shoulder—and when I say “now,”
Come to thyself—but mind, not all at once,
But bit by bit—I'll have him at thy feet.
Look at him once, and turn away again—
Another time—and try to turn away,
But, finding that thou canst not do't, cry “yes!”
And, quite o'ercome, fall plump into his arms!
You'll mind?

Kate.
Be sure of me.

Ralph.
Make sure of him!
Up to her now, sir!—Now or never, sir!

Young S.
Dear Kate! wilt be my bride?

Ralph.
Again, sweet sir!

Young S.
Dear Kate! wilt be my bride, a second time?
Sweet Kate, the third time. Wilt thou be my bride?

[Kate falls on Ralph's shoulder.
Ralph.
I do believe she faints.

Young S.
She does indeed!
She's a true lady—On my life she is.

Ralph.
Down on your knees, sir—both your knees—and chafe
Her hands with yours—kissing them now and then—
And 'gainst she comes unto herself, 'twere well
If you could squeeze a tear into your eye:—
Fair Kate, awake! Your lover's at your feet,
Kneeling as well behoves a gentleman—Now—

Kate.
[Recovers—follows Ralph's directions.]
Yes!

[Throwing herself into Small's arms, nearly oversetting him.
Ralph.
Hold up, sweet sir, and try to bear
This overpowering happiness!—To both
I wish a world of joy.—Take her apart
[To Small.
Into the garden. Never drop thy suit
Until she name the day, and be't to-morrow.
“The cup, sir, and the lip!” But, gentle Kate,
[To Kate.
'Tis not enough the bird is limed, behoves
You have him in your hand—Good sir!—fair lady!
I give you joy, and wish you a good day!

[Goes out.
Young S.
Come, gentle Kate, that is to be my bride.

Kate.
O, la, sir!

Young S.
Sir! call me thy Thomas, Kate.
My name is Thomas—master Thomas.

Kate.
La!
I ne'er can call thee Thomas.

Young S.
Yes, thou canst,
And wilt!—dear Thomas!—thy own Thomas!

Kate.
La!

Young S.
As I will call thee my own Kate, be sure,
As soon as we are man and wife.

Kate.
O, la!
Don't talk of it.

Young S.
Of what else should I talk?
Come Kate—my wife!—my lady Kate!

Kate.
O, la!

[They go out.