Part 29

COL.’S FR. Truth, sir, I must needs blame you for a truant, having but one lesson read to you, and neglect so soon; fie, I must see you once a-day at least. CHOUGH. Would I were whipt, tutor, if it were not 'long of my man Trimtram here! TRIM. Who, of me? CHOUGH. Take’t upon thee, Trim; I’ll give thee five shillings, as I am a gentleman. TRIM. I’ll see you whipt first:—well, I will too.—Faith, sir, I saw he was not perfect, and I was loath he should come before to shame himself. COL.’S FR. How? shame, sir? is it a shame for scholars to learn? Sir, there are great scholars that are but slenderly read in our profession: sir, first it must be economical, then ecumenical: shame not to practise in the house how to perform in the field: the nail that is driven takes a little hold at the first stroke, but more at the second, and more at the third, but when ’tis home to the head, then ’tis firm. CHOUGH. Faith, I have been driving it home to the head this two days. TRIM. I helped to hammer it in as well as I could too, sir. COL.’S FR. Well, sir, I will hear you rehearse anon: meantime peruse the exemplary of my bills, and tell me in what language I shall roar a lecture to you; or I’ll read to you the mathematical science of roaring. CHOUGH. Is it mathematical? COL.’S FR. O, sir, do[777] not the winds roar, the sea roar, the welkin[778] roar?—indeed most things do roar by nature—and is not the knowledge of these things mathematical? CHOUGH. Pray proceed, sir. COL.’S FR. [_reads_] _The names of the languages, the Sclavonian, Parthamenian, Barmeothian, Tyburman, Wappinganian, or the modern Londonian: any man or woman that is desirous to roar in any of these languages, in a week they shall be perfect if they will take pains; so let 'em repair into Holborn to the sign of the Cheat-Loaf._ CHOUGH. Now your bill speaks of that I was wondering a good while at, your sign; the loaf looks very like bread, i’faith, but why is it called the Cheat-Loaf? COL.’S FR. This house was sometimes a baker’s, sir, that served the court, where the bread is called cheat.[779] TRIM. Ay, ay, ’twas a baker that cheated the court with bread. COL.’S FR. Well, sir, choose your languages; and your lectures shall be read, between my usher and myself, for your better instruction, provided your conditions be performed in the premises beforesaid. CHOUGH. Look you, sir, there’s twenty pound in hand, and twenty more I am to pay when I am allowed a sufficient roarer. [_Gives money._ COL.’S FR. You speak in good earnest, sir? CHOUGH. Yes, faith do I: Trimtram shall be my witness. TRIM. Yes, indeed, sir, twenty pound is very good earnest. USH. Sir, one thing I must tell you belongs to my place: you are the youngest scholar; and till another comes under you, there is a certain garnish belongs to the school; for in our practice we grow to a quarrel; then there must be wine ready to make all friends, for that’s the end of roaring, ’tis valiant, but harmless; and this charge is yours. CHOUGH. With all my heart, i’faith, and I like it the better because no blood comes on it: who shall fetch? FIRST ROAR.[780] I’ll be your spaniel, sir. COL.’S FR. Bid Vapour bring some tobacco too. CHOUGH. Do, and here’s money for’t. USH. No, you shall not; let me see the money: so [_takes the money_], I’ll keep it, and discharge him after the combat. [_Exit First Roarer._] For your practice sake, you and your man shall roar him out on’t—for indeed you must pay your debts so, for that’s one of the main ends of roaring—and when you have left him in a chafe, then I’ll qualify the rascal. CHOUGH. Content.—I’faith, Trim, we’ll roar the rusty rascal out of his tobacco.

TRIM. Ay, and[781] he had the best craccus in London. COL.’S FR. Observe, sir, we could now roar in the Sclavonian language, but this practice hath been a little sublime, some hairsbreadth or so above your caput; I take it, for your use and understanding both, it were fitter for you to taste the modern assault, only the Londonian roar. CHOUGH. I’faith, sir, that’s for my purpose, for I shall use all my roaring here in London; in Cornwall we are all for wrestling, and I do not mean to travel over sea to roar there. COL.’S FR. Observe then, sir;—but it were necessary you took forth your tables[782] to note the most difficult points for the better assistance of your memory. CHOUGH. Nay, sir, my man and I keep two tables. TRIM. Ay, sir, and as many trenchers, cats’ meat and dogs’ meat enough. COL.’S FR. Note, sir.—Dost thou confront my cyclops? USH. With a Briarean brousted. CHOUGH. Cyclops. [_Writes._ TRIM. Briarean. [_Writes._ COL.’S FR. I know thee and thy lineal pedigree. USH. It is collateral, as Brutus and Posthumus. TRIM. Brutus. [_Writes._ CHOUGH. Posthumus. [_Writes._ COL.’S FR. False as the face of Hecate! thy sister is a —— USH. What is my sister, centaur?

COL.’S FR. I say thy sister is a bronstrops.[783] USH. A bronstrops? CHOUGH. Tutor, tutor, ere you go any further, tell me the English of that; what is a bronstrops, pray? COL.’S FR. A bronstrops is in English a hippocrene. CHOUGH. A hippocrene; note it, Trim: I love to understand the English as I go. [_Writes._ TRIM. What’s the English of hippocrene? CHOUGH. Why, bronstrops. USH. Thou dost obtrect[784] my flesh and blood. COL.’S FR. Again I denounce, thy sister is a fructifer. CHOUGH. What’s that, tutor? COL.’S FR. That is in English a fucus[785] or a minotaur. CHOUGH. A minotaur. [_Writes._ TRIM.[786] A fucus. [_Writes._ USH. I say thy mother is a callicut, a panagron, a duplar, and a sindicus. COL.’S FR. Dislocate thy bladud![787] USH. Bladud shall conjure, if his demons once appear.

_Re-enter First Roarer with wine, followed by_ VAPOUR _with tobacco_.

COL.’S FR. Advance thy respondency. CHOUGH. Nay, good gentlemen,[788] do not fall out.—A cup of wine quickly, Trimtram! USH. See, my steel hath a glister! CHOUGH. Pray wipe him, and put him up again, good usher. USH. Sir, at your request I pull down the flag of defiance. COL.’S FR. Give me a bowl of wine, my fury shall be quenched: here, usher! [_Drinks._ USH. I pledge thee in good friendship. [_Drinks._ CHOUGH. I like the conclusion of roaring very well, i’faith. TRIM. It has an excellent conclusion indeed, if the wine be good, always provided. COL.’S FR. O, the wine must be always provided, be sure of that. USH. Else you spoil the conclusion, and that you know crowns all. CHOUGH. ’Tis much like wrestling, i’faith, for we shake hands ere we begin; now that’s to avoid the law, for then if he throw him a furlong into the ground, he cannot recover himself upon him, because ’twas done in cold friendship. COL.’S FR. I believe you, sir. CHOUGH. And then we drink afterwards, just in this fashion: wrestling and roaring are as like as can be, i’faith, even like long sword and half pike. COL.’S FR. Nay, they are reciprocal, if you mark it, for as there is a great roaring at wrestling, so there is a kind of wrestling and contention at roaring. CHOUGH. True, i’faith, for I have heard 'em roar from the six windmills to Islington: those have been great falls then. COL.’S FR. Come now, a brief rehearsal of your other day’s lesson, betwixt your man and you, and then for to-day we break up school. CHOUGH. Come, Trimtram.—If I be out, tutor, I’ll be bold to look in my tables, because I doubt I am scarce perfect. COL.’S FR. Well, well, I will not see small faults. CHOUGH. The wall! TRIM. The wall of me? to thy kennel, spaniel! CHOUGH. Wilt thou not yield precedency? TRIM. To thee? I know thee and thy brood. CHOUGH. Knowest thou my brood? I know thy brood too, thou art a rook. TRIM. The nearer akin to the choughs?[789] CHOUGH. The rooks akin to the choughs? COL.’S FR. Very well maintained! CHOUGH. Dungcoer, thou liest! TRIM. Lie? enucleate the kernel of thy scabbard. CHOUGH. Now if I durst draw my sword, ’twere valiant, i’faith. COL.’S FR. Draw, draw, howsoever!

CHOUGH. Have some wine ready to make us friends, I pray you. TRIM. Chough, I will make thee fly and roar. CHOUGH. I will roar if thou strikest me. COL.’S FR. So, ’tis enough; now conclude in wine: I see you will prove an excellent practitioner: wondrous well performed on both sides! CHOUGH. Here, Trimtram, I drink to thee. [_Drinks._ TRIM. I’ll pledge you in good friendship. [_Drinks._

_Enter Servant._ SERV. Is there not one master Chough here? USH. This is the gentleman, sir. SERV. My master, sir, your elected father-in-law, desires speedily to speak with you. CHOUGH. Friend, I will follow thee: I would thou hadst come a little sooner! thou shouldst have seen roaring sport, i’faith. SERV. Sir, I’ll return that you are following. CHOUGH. Do so [_exit Servant_].—I’ll tell thee, tutor, I am to marry shortly; but I will defer it a while till I can roar perfectly, that I may get the upper hand of my wife on the wedding-day; 'tmust be done at first or never. COL.’S FR. 'Twill serve you to good use in that, sir. CHOUGH. How likest thou this, whiffler?[790] VAP. Very valiantly, i’faith, sir. CHOUGH. Tush, thou shalt see more by and by. VAP. I can stay no longer indeed, sir: who pays me for my tobacco? CHOUGH. How? pay for tobacco? away, ye sooty-mouthed piper! you rusty piece of Martlemas bacon, away! TRIM. Let me give him a mark[791] for’t. CHOUGH. No, Trimtram, do not strike him; we’ll only roar out a curse upon him. TRIM. Well, do you begin then. CHOUGH. May thy roll[792] rot, and thy pudding drop in pieces, being sophisticated with filthy urine! TRIM. May sergeants dwell on either side of thee, to fright away thy twopenny customers! CHOUGH. And for thy penny ones, let them suck thee dry! TRIM. When thou art dead, mayest thou have no other sheets to be buried in but mouldy tobacco-leaves! CHOUGH. And no strawings to stick thy carcass but the bitter stalks! TRIM. Thy mourners all greasy tapsters! CHOUGH. With foul tobacco-pipes in their hats, instead of rotten rosemary;[793] and last of all, may my man and I live to see all this performed, and to piss reeking even upon thy grave! TRIM. And last of all for me, let this epitaph be remembered over thee:

_Here coldly now within is laid to rot A man that yesterday was piping hot: Some say he died by pudding, some by prick, Others by roll and ball, some leaf; all stick Fast in censure,[794] yet think it strange and rare, He liv’d by smoke, yet died for want of air: But then the surgeon said, when he beheld him, It was the burning of his pipe that kill’d him._ CHOUGH. So, are you paid now, whiffler? VAP. All this is but smoke out of a stinking pipe. CHOUGH. So, so, pay him now, usher. [VAPOUR _is paid by the Usher, and exit_. COL.’S FR. Do not henceforth neglect your schooling, master Chough. CHOUGH. Call me rook, if I do, tutor. TRIM. And me raven, though my name be Trimtram. CHOUGH. Farewell, tutor. TRIM. Farewell, usher. [_Exeunt_ CHOUGH _and_ TRIMTRAM. COL.’S FR. Thus when the drum’s unbrac’d, and trumpet[s] cease, Soldiers must get pay for to live in peace. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Chamber in the Colonel’s House._

_The Colonel discovered lying on a couch, several of his friends watching him: as the Surgeon is going out, the Colonel’s Sister enters._[795]

COL.’S SIST. O my most worthy brother, thy hard fate ’twas!— Come hither, honest surgeon, and deal faithfully With a distressed virgin: what hope is there? SURG. Hope? chilis[796] was ’scap’d miraculously, lady. COL.’S SIST. What’s that, sir? SURG. Cava vena: I care but little for his wound i’ th’ œsophag,[797] not thus much, trust me; but when they come to diaphragma once, the small intestines, or the spinal medul, or i’ th’ roots of the emunctories of the noble parts, then straight I fear a syncope;[798] the flanks retiring towards the back, the urine bloody, the excrements purulent, and the dolour pricking or pungent. COL.’S SIST. Alas, I’m ne’er the better for this answer! SURG. Now I must tell you his principal dolour lies i’ th’ region of the liver, and there’s both inflammation and tumefaction[799] feared; marry, I made him a quadra[n]gular plumation, where I used sanguis draconis, by my faith, with powders incarnative, which I tempered with oil of hypericon, and other liquors mundificative. COL.’S SIST. Pox a’ your mundies figatives! I would they were all fired! SURG. But I purpose, lady, to make another experiment at next dressing with a sarcotic[800] medicament made of iris of Florence; thus, mastic, calaphena, opoponax,[801] sarcocolla[802]—— COL.’S SIST. Sacro-halter! what comfort is i’ this to a poor gentlewoman? pray tell me in plain terms what you think of him. SURG. Marry, in plain terms I know not what to say to him: the wound, I can assure you, inclines to paralism, and I find his body cacochymic: being then in fear of fever and inflammation, I nourish him altogether with viands refrigerative, and give for potion the juice of savicola dissolved with water cerefolium: I could do no more, lady, if his best ginglymus[803] were dissevered. [_Exit._

COL.’S SIST. What thankless pains does the tongue often take To make the whole man most ridiculous! I come to him for comfort, and he tires me Worse than my sorrow: what a precious good May be deliver’d sweetly in few words! And what a mount of nothing has he cast forth! Alas, his strength decays! [_Aside._]—How cheer you, sir, My honour’d brother? COL. In soul never better; I feel an excellent health there, such a stoutness My invisible enemies fly[804] me; seeing me arm’d With penitence and forgiveness, they fall backward, Whether through admiration, not imagining There were such armoury in a soldier’s soul As pardon and repentance, or through power Of ghostly valour. But I have been lord Of a more happy conquest in nine hours now Than in nine years before.—O kind lieutenants, This is the only war we should provide for! Where he that forgives largest, and sighs strongest, Is a tried soldier, a true man indeed, And wins the best field, makes his own heart bleed. Read the last part of that will, sir.

FIRST FR. OF COL. [_reads_][805] _I also require at the hands of my most beloved sister, whom I make full executrix, the disposure of my body in burial at Saint Martin’s i’ th’ Field; and to cause to be distributed to the poor of the same parish forty mark,[806] and to the hospital of maimed soldiers a hundred: lastly, I give and bequeath to my kind, dear, and virtuous sister the full possession of my present estate in riches, whether it be in lands, leases, money, goods, plate, jewels, or what kind soever, upon this condition following, that she forthwith tender both herself and all these infeoffments to that noble captain, my late enemy, captain Ager._ COL.’S SIST. How, sir? COL. Read it again, sir; let her hear it plain. COL.’S SIST. Pray, spare your pains, sir; ’tis too plain already.— Good sir, how do you? is your memory perfect? This will makes question of you: I bestow’d So much grief and compassion a’ your wound, I never look’d into your senses’ epilepsy: The sickness and infirmity of your judgment Is to be doubted now more than your body’s. Why, is your love no dearer to me, sir, Than to dispose me so upon the man Whose fury is your body’s present torment, The author of your danger? one I hate Beyond the bounds of malice. Do you not feel His wrath upon you? I beseech you, sir, Alter that cruel article! COL. Cruel, sister?— Forgive me, natural love, I must offend thee, Speaking to this woman.—Am I content, Having much kindred, yet to give thee all, Because in thee I’d raise my means to goodness, And canst thou prove so thankless to my bounty, To grudge my soul her peace? is my intent To leave her rich, whose only desire is To send me poorer into the next world Than ever usurer went, or politic statist? Is it so burdensome for thee to love Where I forgive? O, wretched is the man That builds the last hopes of his saving comforts Upon a woman’s charity! he’s most miserable: If it were possible, her obstinate will Will pull him down in his midway to heaven. I’ve wrong’d that worthy man past recompense, And in my anger robb’d him of fair fame; And thou the fairest restitution art My life could yield him: if I knew a fairer, I’d set thee by and thy unwilling goodness, And never make my sacred peace of thee; But there’s the cruelty of a fate debarr’d, Thou art the last, and all, and thou art hard! COL.’S SIST. Let your griev’d heart hold better thoughts of me; I will not prove so, sir; but since you enforce it With such a strength of passion, I’ll perform What by your will you have enjoin’d me to, Though the world never shew me joy again. COL. O, this may be fair cunning for the time, To put me off, knowing I hold not long; And when I look to have my joys accomplish’d, I shall find no such things; that were vild[807] cozenage, And not to be repented. COL.’S SIST. By all the blessedness Truth and a good life looks for, I will do’t, sir! COL. Comforts reward you for’t whene’er you grieve! I know if you dare swear, I may believe. [_Exit Colonel’s Sister. Scene closes._

SCENE III.

_A Room in_ LADY AGER’S _House_.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN AGER.

CAP. AGER. No sooner have I entrance i’ this house now But all my joy falls from me, which was wont To be the sanctuary of my comforts: Methought I lov’d it with a reverent gladness, As holy men do consecrated temples For the saint’s sake, which I believ’d my mother; But prov’d a false faith since, a fearful heresy, O, who’d erect th’ assurance of his joys Upon a woman’s goodness! whose best virtue Is to commit unseen, and highest secrecy To hide but her own sin; there’s their perfection: And if she be so good, which many fail of too, When these are bad, how wondrous ill are they! What comfort is’t to fight, win this day’s fame, When all my after-days are lamps of shame?

_Enter_ LADY AGER.

LADY AGER. Blessings be firm to me! he’s come, ’tis he!— [_Aside._ A surgeon speedily! CAP. AGER. A surgeon? why, madam? LADY AGER. Perhaps you’ll say ’tis but a little wound; Good to prevent a danger:—quick, a surgeon! CAP. AGER. Why, madam? LADY AGER. Ay, ay, that’s all the fault of valiant men, They’ll not be known a’ their hurts till they’re past help, And then too late they wish for’t. CAP. AGER. Will you hear me? LADY AGER. ’Tis no disparagement to confess a wound; I’m glad, sir, ’tis no worse:—a surgeon quickly! CAP. AGER. Madam—— LADY AGER. Come, come, sir, a wound’s honourable, And never shames the wearer. CAP. AGER. By the justice I owe to honour, I came off untouch’d! LADY AGER. I’d rather believe that. CAP. AGER. You believe truth so. LADY AGER. My tears prevail then. Welcome, welcome, sir, As peace and mercy to one new departed! Why would you go though, and deceive me so, When my abundant love took all the course That might be to prevent it? I did that For my affection’s sake—goodness forgive me for’t!— That were my own life’s safety put upon’t, I’d rather die than do’t. Think how you us’d me then; And yet would you go and hazard yourself too! 'Twas but unkindly done. CAP. AGER. What’s all this, madam? LADY AGER. See, then, how rash you were and short in wisdom! Why, wrong my faith I did, slander’d my constancy, Belied my truth; that which few mothers will, Or fewer can, I did, out of true fear And loving care, only to keep thee here. CAP. AGER. I doubt I’m too quick of apprehension now. And that’s a general fault when we hear joyfully, With the desire of longing for’t: I ask it, Why, were you never false? LADY AGER. May death come to me Before repentance then! CAP. AGER. I heard it plain sure— Not false at all? LADY AGER. By the reward of truth, I never knew that deed that claims the name on’t! CAP. AGER. May, then, that glorious reward you swore by Be never-failing to you! all the blessings That you have given me, since obedient custom Taught me to kneel and ask 'em, are not valuable With this immaculate blessing of your truth: This is the palm to victory, The crown for all deserts past and to come: Let 'em be numberless; they are rewarded, Already they’re rewarded. Bless this frame, I feel it much too weak to bear the joy on’t. [_Kneels._ LADY AGER. Rise, sir. CAP. AGER. O, pardon me! I cannot honour you too much, too long. I kneel not only to a mother now, But to a woman that was never false: Ye’re dear, and ye’re good too; I think a’ that: What reverence does she merit! ’tis fit such Should be distinguish’d from the prostrate sex; And what distinction properer can be shewn, Than honour done to her that keeps her own? LADY AGER. Come, sir, I’ll have you rise. CAP. AGER. To do a deed, then, [_Rises._ That shall for ever raise me. O my glory, Why, this, this is the quarrel that I look’d for! The other[808] but a shift to hold time play. You sacred ministers of preservation, For heaven’s sake send him life, And with it mighty health, and such a strength May equal but the cause! I wish no foul things: If life but glow in him, he shall know instantly That I’m resolv’d to call him to account for’t. LADY AGER. Why, hark you, sir—— CAP. AGER. I bind you by your honour, madam, You speak no hindrance to’s; take heed, you ought not. LADY AGER. What an unhappiness have I in goodness! ’Tis ever my desire to intend well, But have no fortunate way in’t. For all this Deserve I yet no better of you But to be griev’d again? Are you not well With honest gain of fame, with safety purchas’d? Will you needs tempt a ruin that avoids you? [_Exit._ CAP. AGER. No, you’ve prevail’d: things of this nature sprung, When they use action must use little tongue.—

_Enter Servant._

Now, sir, the news? SER. Sir, there’s a gentlewoman Desires some conference with you. CAP. AGER. How, with me? A gentlewoman? what is she? SER. Her attendant Deliver’d her to be the Colonel’s sister. CAP. AGER. O, for a storm then! [_Exit Servant_] 'las, poor, virtuous gentlewoman, I will endure her violence with much pity! She comes to ease her heart, good, noble soul; ’Tis e’en a charity to release the burden; Were not that remedy ordain’d for women, Their hearts would never hold three years together: And here she comes; I never mark’d so much of her;

_Enter Colonel’s Sister._