Part 31
CHOUGH. Must we not believe our physicians? pray you, think I know as much as every fool does. TRIM. Let me be Trimtram, I pray you too, sir. JANE. Sir, if this bad man have laid a blemish On my white name, he is a most false one, Defaming me for the just denial Of his foul lust.—Nay, now you shall be known, sir. ANNE. Sir, I’m his sister, and do better know him Than all of you: give not too much belief To his wild words; he’s oftentimes mad, sir. PHY. I thank you, good sister! ANNE. Are you not mad To do this office? fie upon your malice! PHY. I’ll presently produce both nurse and child, Whose very eyes shall call her mother before it speaks. [_Exit._ CHOUGH. Ha, ha, ha, ha! by my troth, I’d spend a shilling on that condition to hear that: I think in my conscience I shall take the physician in a lie; if the child call her mother before it can speak, I’ll never wrestle while I live again. TRIM. It must be a she child if it do, sir; and those speak the soonest of any living creatures, they say. CHOUGH. Baw, waw! a dog will bark a month sooner; he’s a very puppy else. RUS. Come, tell truth 'twixt ourselves; here’s none but friends: One spot a father’s love will soon wipe off; The truth, and the[reb]y try my love abundant; I’ll cover it with all the care I have, And yet, perhaps, make up a marriage-day. JANE. Then it’s true, sir, I have a[852] child. RUS. Hast thou? Well, wipe thine eyes; I’m a grandfather then. If all bastards were banish’d, the city would be thin In the thickest term-time. Well, now let me alone, I’ll try my wits for thee.—Richard, Francis, Andrew! None of my knaves within?
_Enter Servant._ SER. Here’s one of 'em, sir: the guests come in apace. RUS. Do they, Dick? let 'em have wine and sugar;[853] we’ll be for 'em presently; but hark, Dick. [_Whispers Servant._ CHOUGH. I long to hear this child speak, i’faith, Trim; I would this foolish physician would come once. TRIM. If it calls her mother, I hope it shall never call you father. CHOUGH. No; and[854] it do, I’ll whip it, i’faith, and give thee leave to whip me. RUS. Run on thy best legs, Dick. SER. I’ll be here in a twinkling, sir. [_Exit._
_Re-enter Physician, with Dutch Nurse and child._ PHY. Now, gentlemen, believe your eyes, if not My tongue.—Do not you call this your child? CHOUGH. Phew, that’s not the point! you promised us the child should call her mother; if it does this month, I’ll ne’er go to the roaring-school again. RUS. Whose child is this, nurse? NURSE. Dis gentleman’s, so he to me readen. [_Points to the physician._ CHOUGH. ’Snails, she’s the physician’s bronstrops, Trim!
TRIM. His fucus, his very tweak, i’faith. CHOUGH. A glister in his teeth! let him take her, with a purgation to him! RUS. ’Tis as your sister said, you are stark mad, sir, This much confirms it; you have defamèd Mine honest daughter; I’ll have you punish’d for’t, Besides the civil penance of your sin, And keeping of your bastard. PHY. This is fine! All your wit and wealth must not thus carry it. RUS. Sir Chough, a word with you. CHOUGH. I’ll not have her, i’faith, sir; if Trimtram will have her, and[855] he will, let him. TRIM. Who, I, sir? I scorn it: if you’ll have her, I’ll have her too; I’ll do as you do, and no otherwise. RUS. I do not mean’t to either; this only, sir, That whatsoe’er you’ve seen, you would be silent; Hinder not my child of another husband, Though you forsake her. CHOUGH. I’ll not speak a word, i’faith. RUS. As you are a gentleman? CHOUGH. By these basket-hilts, as I am a youth, a gentleman, a roarer. RUS. Charm[856] your man, I beseech you, too. CHOUGH. I warrant you, sir, he shall do nothing but what I do before him. RUS. I shall most dearly thank you.—
_Re-enter Servant with_ FITZALLEN.
Welcome, son-in-law! this was beyond your hope: We old men have pretty conceits sometimes; Your wedding-day’s prepar’d, and this is it; How think you of it? FITZ. As of the joyfullest That ever welcom’d me! you shew yourself now A pattern to all kind fathers.—My sweetest Jane! RUS. Your captivity I meant but as sauce Unto your wedding-dinner; now I’m sure ’Tis far more welcome in this short restraint Than had it freely come. FITZ. A thousandfold. JANE. I like this well. [_Aside._ CHOUGH. I have not the heart to see this gentleman gulled so; I will reveal; I make it mine own case; ’tis a foul case. TRIM. Remember you have sworn by your hilts. CHOUGH. I’ll break my hilts rather than conceal: I have a trick; do thou follow me; I will reveal it, and yet not speak it neither. TRIM. ’Tis my duty to follow you, sir. CHOUGH. [_sings_] _Take heed in time, O man, unto thy head!_ TRIM. [_sings_] _All is not gold that glistereth in bed._ RUS. Why, sir,—why, sir! CHOUGH. [_sings_] _Look to’t, I say, thy bride is a bronstrops._ TRIM. [_sings_] _And knows the thing that men wear in their slops._ FITZ. How’s this, sir? CHOUGH. [_sings_] _A hippocrene, a tweak, for and[857] a fucus._ TRIM. [_sings_] _Let not fond love with foretops so rebuke us!_
RUS. Good sir—— CHOUGH. [_sings_] _Behold a baby of this maid’s begetting._ TRIM. [_sings_] _A deed of darkness after the sunsetting._ RUS. Your oath, sir! CHOUGH. [_sings_] _I swear and sing thy bride has taken physic._ TRIM. [_sings_] _This was the doctor cur’d her of that phthisic._ CHOUGH. [_sings_] _If you’ll believe me, I will say no more._ TRIM. [_sings_] _Thy bride’s a tweak, as we do say that roar._ CHOUGH. Bear witness, gentlemen, I have not spoke a word; my hilts are whole still. FITZ. This is a sweet epithalamium Unto the marriage-bed, a musical, Harmonious Iö! Sir, you have wrong’d me, And basely wrong’d me! was this your cunning fetch, To fetch me out of prison, for ever to marry me Unto a strumpet? RUS. None of those words, good sir; ’Tis but a fault, and ’tis a sweet one too. Come, sir, your means is short; lengthen your fortunes With a fair proffer: I’ll put a thousand pieces Into the scale, to help her to weigh it up, Above the first dowry. FITZ. Ha? you say well; Shame may be bought out at a dear rate; A thousand pieces added to her dowry! RUS. There’s five hundred of 'em to make the bargain; [_Gives money._ I’ve worthy guests coming, and would not delude ’em; Say, speak like a son to me. FITZ. Your blessing, sir; We are both yours:—witness, gentlemen, These must be made up a thousand pieces, Added to a first thousand for her dowry, To father that child. PHY. O, is it out now? CHOUGH. For t’other thousand I’ll do’t myself yet. TRIM. Or I, if my master will. FITZ. The bargain’s made, sir; I have the tender And possession both, and will keep my purchase. CHOUGH. Take her e’en to you with all her moveables; I’ll wear my bachelor’s buttons still. TRIM. So will I, i’faith; they are the best flowers in any man’s garden, next to heart’s-ease. FITZ. This is as welcome as the other, sir, And both as the best bliss that e’er on earth I shall enjoy. Sir, this is mine own child; You could not have found out a fitter father; Nor is it basely bred, as you imagine, For we were wedded by the hand of heaven Ere this work was begun. CHOUGH. At Pancridge,[858] I’ll lay my life on’t. TRIM. I’ll lay my life on’t too, ’twas there. FITZ. Somewhere it was, sir. RUS. Was’t so, i’faith, son? JANE. And that I must have reveal’d to you, sir, Ere I had gone to church with this fair groom; But, thank this gentleman, he prevented[859] me.— I am much bound unto your malice, sir. PHY. I am asham’d. JANE. Shame to amendment then. RUS. Now get you together for a couple of cunning ones! But, son, a word; the latter thousand pieces Is now more than bargain. FITZ. No, by my faith, sir, Here’s witness enough on it; it must serve To pay my fees, imprisonment is costly. CHOUGH. By my troth, the old man has gulled himself finely! Well, sir, I’ll bid myself a guest, though not a groom; I’ll dine, and dance, and roar at the wedding for all this. TRIM. So will I, sir, if my master does. RUS. Well, sir, you’re welcome: but now, no more words on’t Till we be set at dinner, for there will mirth Be the most useful for digestion: See, my best guests are coming.
_Enter_ LADY AGER, _Colonel’s Sister_, CAPTAIN AGER, _his two Friends, and Surgeon_.
CAP. AGER. Recover’d, sayst thou? SURG. May I be excluded quite out of Surgeons’ Hall else! marry, I must tell you the wound was fain to be twice corroded;’twas a plain gastrolophe,[860] and a deep one; but I closed the lips on’t with bandages and sutures[861] which is a kind[862] conjunction of the parts separated against the course of nature. CAP. AGER. Well, sir, he is well.
SURG. I feared him, I assure you, captain; before the suture in the belly, it grew almost to a convulsion, and there was like to be a bloody issue from the hollow vessels of the kidneys. CAP. AGER. There’s that, to thank thy news and thy art together. [_Gives him money._ SURG. And if your worship at any time stand in need of incision, if it be your fortune to light into my hands, I’ll give you the best. CAP. AGER. Uncle, the noble Colonel’s recover’d. RUS. Recover’d? Then honour is not dead in all parts, coz.
_Enter Colonel and two Friends._
FIRST FR. OF CAP. Behold him yonder, sir. CAP. AGER. My much unworthiness Is now found out; thou’st not a face to fit it. FIRST FR. OF COL. Sir, yonder’s captain Ager. COL. O lieutenant, The wrong I’ve done his fame puts me to silence; Shame so confounds me, that I dare not see him. CAP. AGER. I never knew how poor my deserts were Till he appear’d; no way to give requital! Here shame me lastingly, do’t with his own: Return this to him; tell him I have riches In that abundance in his sister’s love, These come but to oppress me, and confound All my deservings everlastingly; I never shall requite my wealth in her, say.
[_Giving will to his friend, who delivers it to the Colonel._ How soon from virtue and an honour’d spirit May man receive what he may never merit! COL. This comes most happily, to express me better; For since this will was made, there fell to me The manor of Fitzdale; give him that too; [_Returning will with other papers._ He’s like to have charge, There’s fair hope of my sister’s fruitfulness: For me, I never mean to change my mistress, And war is able to maintain her servant. FIRST FR. OF CAP. Read there; a fair increase, sir, by my faith; He hath sent it back, sir, with new additions. CAP. AGER. How miserable he makes me! this enforces me To break through all the passages of shame, And headlong fall—— COL. Into my arms, dear worthy! CAP. AGER. You have a goodness Has put me past my answers; you may speak What you please now, I must be silent ever. COL. This day has shewn me joy’s unvalu’d[863] treasure; I would not change this brotherhood with a monarch; Into which blest alliance sacred heaven Has plac’d my kinsman, and given him his ends: Fair be that quarrel makes such happy friends! [_Exeunt omnes._
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MORE DISSEMBLERS
BESIDES
WOMEN.
_More Dissemblers Besides Women. A Comedy, By Tho. Middleton, Gent. London. Printed for Humphrey Moseley_, 1657, forms part of a volume, the general title of which is _Two New Playes_.
{ _More Dissemblers_ _Viz_ { _besides Women._ { _Women beware_ { _Women._
_Written by Tho. Middleton, Gent. London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley and are to be sold at his Shop at the Prince’s Arms in St Pauls Churchyard._ 1657. 8vo. To this volume is prefixed the following address
“TO THE READER.
“When these amongst others of Mr. Thomas Middleton’s excellent poems came to my hands, I was not a little confident but that his name would prove as great an inducement for thee to read as me to print them; since those issues of his brain that have already seen the sun have by their worth gained themselves a free entertainment amongst all that are ingenious: and I am most certain that these will no way lessen his reputation nor hinder his admission to any noble and recreative spirits. All that I require at thy hands is to continue the author in his deserved esteem, and to accept of my endeavours which have ever been to please thee.
Farewell.”
Another play by Middleton, printed in the same year and
ᚴfor the same bookseller—_No_ {_Wit_ } _like a Woman’s_— {_Help_} is generally found appended to the volume just described.
The present drama has been reprinted in the 4th vol. of _A Continuation of Dodsley’s Old Plays_, 1816.
That _More Dissemblers besides Women_ was produced a considerable time previous to the year 1623, we learn from the following entry by Sir Henry Herbert (Chalmers’s _Suppl. Apol._ p. 215);
“17 October [1623] For the King’s Company, _An Old Play, called, More Dissemblers besides Women_: allowed by Sir George Bucke; and being free from alterations was allowed by me, for a new play, called _The Devil of Dowgate, or Usury put to use_. Written by Fletcher.”
Immediately preceding act i. of the old ed. are the words “The First Part;” which would seem to imply that a Second Part had been written, or perhaps only designed.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
_Lord Cardinal of Milan._ LACTANTIO, _his nephew_. ANDRUGIO, _general of Milan_. _Father to Aurelia._ _Governor of the fort._ DONDOLO, _servant to Lactantio_. CROTCHET, _a singing-master_. SINQUAPACE, _a dancing-master_. NICHOLAO, _his usher_. _Captain of the Gipsies._ _Lords, Gipsies, Servants, and Guards._
_Duchess of Milan._ CELIA, _her waiting-woman_. AURELIA. _Page, Lactantio’s mistress in disguise._
Scene, MILAN and the neighbourhood.
MORE DISSEMBLERS
BESIDES
WOMEN.
------------------
ACT I. SCENE I.
_A Street._
_Enter_ LACTANTIO, AURELIA, _and Servant_.
_Song within._
_To be chaste is woman’s glory, ’Tis her fame and honour’s story: Here sits she in funeral weeds, Only bright in virtuous deeds; Come and read her life and praise, That singing weeps, and sighing plays._
LAC. Welcome, soul’s music! I’ve been listening here To melancholy strains from the duchess’ lodgings; That strange great widow, that has vow’d so stiffly Ne’er to know love’s heat in a second husband: And she has kept the fort most valiantly, To th’ wonder of her sex, this seven year’s day, And that’s no sorry trial. A month’s constancy Is held a virtue in a city-widow; And are they excell’d by so much more i’ th’ court? My faith, a rare example for our wives! Heaven’s blessing of[864] her heart for it! poor soul, She had need have somewhat to comfort her. What wouldst thou do, faith, now, If I were dead, suppose I were thy husband, As shortly I will be, and that’s as good? Speak freely, and[865] thou lov’st me. AUR. Alas, sir, I should not have the leisure to make vows; For dying presently, I should be dead Before you were laid out! LAC. Now fie upon thee for a hasty dier! Wouldst thou not see me buried? AUR. Talk not on’t, sir, These many years, unless you take delight To see me swoon, or make a ghost of me. LAC. Alas, poor soul! I’ll kiss thee into colour: Canst thou paint pale so quickly? I perceive then Thou’dst go beyond the duchess in her vow, Thou’dst die indeed. What’s he? AUR. Be settled, sir; Spend neither doubt nor fear upon that fellow: Health cannot be more trusty to man’s life Than he to my necessities in love. LAC. I take him of thy word, and praise his face, Though he look scurvily; I’ll think hereafter That honesty may walk with fire in’s nose, As well as brave desert in broken clothes: But for thy further safety, I’ve provided A shape, that at first sight will start thy modesty, And make thee blush perhaps, but 'twill away After a qualm or two. Virginity Has been put often to those shifts before thee Upon extremities; a little boldness Cannot be call’d immodesty, especially When there’s no means without it for our safeties. Thou know’st my uncle, the lord cardinal, Wears so severe an eye, so strict and holy, It not endures the sight of womankind About his lodgings: Hardly a matron of fourscore’s admitted; Though she be worn to gums, she comes not there To mumble matins; all his admiration Is plac’d upon the duchess; he likes her, Because she keeps her vow and likes not any; So does he love that man above his book That loves no woman: for my fortune’s sake then, For I am like to be his only heir, I must dissemble, and appear as fair To his opinion as the brow of piety; As void of all impureness as an altar: Thine ear [_whispers_]; that, and we’re safe. AUR. You make me blush, sir. LAC. ’Tis but a star shot from a beauteous cheek, It blazes beauty’s bounty, and hurts nothing. AUR. The power of love commands me. LAC. I shall wither In comforts, till I see thee. [_Exeunt severally._
SCENE II.
_The Cardinal’s Closet._
_Enter Cardinal and Lords._
CAR. My lords, I’ve work for you: when you have hours Free from the cares of state, bestow your eyes Upon those abstracts of the duchess’ virtues, My study’s ornaments. I make her constancy The holy mistress of my contemplation; Whole volumes have I writ in zealous praise Of her eternal vow: I have no power To suffer virtue to go thinly clad. I that have ever been in youth an old man To pleasures and to women, and could never Love, but pity 'em, And all their momentary frantic follies, Here I stand up in admiration, And bow to the chaste health of our great duchess, Kissing her constant name. O my fair lords, When we find grace confirm’d, especially In a creature that’s so doubtful as a woman, We’re spirit-ravish’d; men of our probation Feel the sphere’s music playing in their souls. So long, unto th’ eternising of her sex, Sh’as kept her vow so strictly, and as chaste As everlasting life is kept for virtue, Even from the sight of men; to make her oath As uncorrupt as th’ honour of a virgin, That must be strict in thought, or else that title, Like one of frailty’s ruins, shrinks to dust: No longer she’s a virgin than she’s just. FIRST LORD. Chaste, sir? the truth and justice of her vow To her deceas’d lord’s able to make poor Man’s treasury of praises. But, methinks, She that has no temptation set before her, Her virtue has no conquest: then would her constancy Shine in the brightest goodness of her glory, If she would give admittance, see and be seen, And yet resist, and conquer: there were argument For angels; 'twould outreach the life of praise Set in mortality’s shortness. I speak this Not for religion, but for love of her, Whom I wish less religious, and more loving: But I fear she’s too constant, that’s her fault; But ’tis so rare, few of her sex are took with’t, And that makes some amends. CAR. You’ve put my zeal into a way, my lord, I shall not be at peace till I make perfect: I’ll make her victory harder; ’tis my crown When I bring grace to great’st perfection; And I dare trust that daughter with a world, None but her vow and she. I know she wears A constancy will not deceive my praises, A faith so noble; she that once knows heaven Need put in no security for her truth; I dare believe her. Face,[866] use all the art, Temptation, witcheries, slights,[867] and subtleties, You temporal lords and all your means can practice—— SEC. LORD. My lord, not any we. CAR. Her resolute goodness Shall as a rock stand firm, and send the sin That beat[s] against it Into the bosom of the owners weeping. THIRD LORD. We wish[868] her virtues so. CAR. O, give me pardon! I’ve lost myself in her upon my friends. Your charitable censures[869] I beseech: So dear her white fame is to my soul’s love, ’Tis an affliction but to hear it question’d; She’s my religious triumph: If you desire a belief rightly to her, Think she can never waver, then you’re sure: She has a fixed heart, it cannot err; He kills my hopes of woman that doubts her. FIRST LORD. No more, my lord, ’tis fix’d. CAR. Believe my judgment; I never praise in vain, nor ever spent Opinion idly, or lost hopes of any Where I once plac’d it; welcome as my joys, Now you all part believers of her virtue! LORDS. We are the same most firmly. CAR. Good opinion In others reward you and all your actions! [_Exeunt Lords._ Who’s near us?
_Enter Servant._
SER. My lord? CAR. Call our nephew. [_Exit Servant._]—There’s a work too That for blood’s sake I labour to make perfect, And it comes on with joy. He’s but a youth, To speak of years, yet I dare venture him To old men’s goodnesses and gravities For his strict manners, and win glory by him; And for the chasteness of his continence, Which is a rare grace in the spring of man, He does excel the youth of all our time; Which gift of his, more than affinity, Draws my affection in great plenty to him: The company of a woman’s as fearful to him As death to guilty men; I’ve seen him blush When but a maid was nam’d: I’m proud of him, Heaven be not angry for’t! he’s near of kin In disposition to me. I shall do much for him In life-time, but in death I shall do all; There he will find my love: he’s yet too young In years to rise in state, but his good parts Will bring him in the sooner. Here he comes.
_Enter_ LACTANTIO _with a book_.