The works of Thomas Middleton, Volume 4 (of 5)

Title: The works of Thomas Middleton, Volume 4 (of 5)

Author: Thomas Middleton

Thomas Dekker

William Rowley

Editor: Alexander Dyce

Release date: April 6, 2025 [eBook #75606]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Edward Lumley, 1840

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75606

Credits: Tim Lindell, KD Weeks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

Footnotes have been collected at the end of each play, and are linked for ease of reference.

In Volume 1 of this work, the editor provided a section of ‘Addendum and Corrigiendum’, with errata of the following volumes, including this. The errata for Volume 4 have been copied from that volume for straightfoward reference, and are included in the transcribers’s endnotes. Key words in the text which are annotated by the Errata are highlighted, and serve as links to the relevant note.

Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.

Any corrections are indicated using an underline highlight. Placing the cursor over the correction will produce the original text in a small popup.

Any corrections are indicated as hyperlinks, which will navigate the reader to the corresponding entry in the corrections table in the note at the end of the text. New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

THE WORKS OF THOMAS MIDDLETON.

[Illustration: To face Title to Vol. 4. Eng’d by F. W. Fairholt. ]

A CHASTE MAID IN CHEAPSIDE.

3A Chast Mayd in Cheape-side. A Pleasant conceited Comedy neuer before printed. As it hath beene often acted at the Swan on the Banke-side, by the Lady Elizabeth her Seruants. By Thomas Midelton Gent. London, Printed for Francis Constable dwelling at the signe of the Crane in Pauls Church-yard. 1630. 4to.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Maud. Have you played over all your old lessons o' the virginals?[3]

Moll. Yes.

Maud. Yes? you are[4] a dull maid a' late; methinks you had need have somewhat to quicken your green sickness—do you weep?—a husband: had not such a piece of flesh been ordained, what had us wives been good for? to make salads, or else cried up and down for samphire. To see the difference of these seasons! when I was of your youth, I was lightsome and quick two years before I was married. You fit for a knight’s bed! drowsy-browed, dull-eyed, drossy-spirited! I hold my life you have forgot your dancing: when was the dancer with you?

Moll. The last week.

Maud. Pray, let me see it; I was wont to understand him. [Reads] Amantissimis carissimis, he has sent the carrier’s man, he says; ambobus parentibus, for a pair of boots; patri et matri, pay the porter, or it makes no matter.

Por. Yes, by my faith, mistress; there’s no true construction in that: I have took a great deal of pains, and come from the Bell[9] sweating. Let me come to’t, for I was a scholar forty years ago; ’tis thus, I warrant you: [reads] Matri, it makes no matter; ambobus parentibus, for a pair of boots; patri, pay the porter; amantissimis carissimis, he’s the carrier’s man, and his name is Sims; and there he says true, forsooth, my name is Sims indeed; I have not forgot all my learning: a money-matter, I thought I should hit on’t.

Yel. Go, thou’rt an old fox; there’s a tester[10] for thee.

Por. If I see your worship at Goose-fair, I have a dish of birds for you.

Yel. Why, dost dwell at Bow?

9Por. All my lifetime, sir; I could ever say bo to a goose. Farewell to your worship. [Exit.

Yel. A merry porter!

Yel. What’s here? maximus diligo; faith, I must to my learned counsel with this gear,[11] ’twill ne’er be discerned else.

Moll. Sir——

Touch. jun. Turn[17] not to me till thou mayst lawfully; it but whets my stomach, which is too sharp-set already. Read that note carefully [giving letter to Moll]; keep me from suspicion still, nor know my zeal but in thy heart:

[Exeunt Maudlin, Sir W. Whorehound, Welchwoman, and Davy.

SCENE II.

Sir Wal. O, Wat—how dost, Nick? go to school, ply your books, boys, ha?

Allwit. True, and if she bear a male child, there’s the man in the moon, sir.

ACT II. SCENE I.

SCENE II.

SCENE III.

SCENE IV.

Enter from the house[62] Midwife with the child, Lady Kix and other Gossips, who exeunt; then Maudlin, Puritans, and other Gossips.

ACT III. SCENE I.

SCENE II.

A bed-chamber:[67] Mistress Allwit discovered in bed.

Enter Midwife with the child, Lady Kix, Maudlin, Puritans, and other Gossips.

SCENE III.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Tim. Negatur argumentum, tutor.

Tutor. Probo tibi, pupil, stultus non est animal rationale.

Tim. Falleris sane.

Tutor. Quæso ut taceas,—probo tibi——

Tim. Quomodo probas, domine?

Tutor. Stultus non habet rationem, ergo non est animal rationale.

Tim. Sic argumentaris, domine; stultus non habet rationem, ergo non est animal rationale: negatur argumentum again, tutor.

63Tutor. Argumentum iterum probo tibi, domine; qui non participat de ratione, nullo modo potest vocari rationalis;[104] but stultus non participat de ratione, ergo stultus nullo modo potest dici[105] rationalis.

Tim. Participat.

Tutor. Sic disputas; qui participat, quomodo participat?

Tim. Ut homo, probabo tibi in syllogismo.

Tutor. Hunc proba.

Tim. Sic probo, domine; stultus est homo, sicut tu et ego sum[us]; homo est animal rationale, sicut stultus est animal rationale.

Maud. Here’s nothing but disputing all the day long with ’em!

Tutor. Sic disputas; stultus est homo, sicut tu et ego sum[us]; homo est animal rationale, sicut stultus est animal rationale.

Tim. ’Tis pretty, i’faith, and well guessed of a woman never brought up at the university; but 64bring forth what fool you will, mother, I'll prove him to be as reasonable a creature as myself or my tutor here.

Tim. Pish, I made haberdines[106] of ’em in church-porches.

Tutor. I give great approbation to your conclusion.

Salve tu quoque, puella pulcherrima; quid vis nescio nec sane curo,—

Tim. Fertur, mehercule, tu virgo,[112] Walliâ ut opibus abundas maximis.

Iterum dico, opibus abundas maximis, montibus, et fontibus, et ut ita dicam rontibus; attamen vero homunculus ego sum natura, simul et arte baccalaureus, lecto profecto non parato.[113]

Tim. Cog foggin? I scorn to cog[114] with her; I'll tell her so too in a word near her own language.—Ego non cogo.

Tim. As well as a man might do, mother, in modest Latin.

SCENE II.

SCENE III.

ACT V. SCENE I.

SCENE II.

SCENE III.

SCENE IV.

Recorders[153] dolefully playing, enter at one door the coffin of Touchwood junior, solemnly decked, his sword upon it, attended by many gentlemen in black, among whom are Sir Oliver Kix, Allwit, and Parson, Touchwood senior being the chief mourner: at the other door the coffin of Moll, adorned with a garland of flowers, and epitaphs pinned on it,[154] attended by many matrons and maids, among whom are Lady Kix, Mistress Allwit, and Susan: the coffins are set down, one right over against the other; and while all the company seem to weep and mourn, there is a sad song in the music-room.[155]

THE SPANISH GIPSY.

The Spanish Gipsie. As it was Acted (with great Applause) at the Privat House in Drury-Lane, and Salisbury Court.

Written by Thomas Midleton and William Rowley Gent.

Never Printed before. London, Printed by J. G. for Richard Marriot in St. Dunstans Church-yard, Fleetstreet, 1653. 4to.

Another ed. appeared in 1661. 4to.

The Spanish Gipsy has been reprinted in the 4th vol. of A Continuation of Dodsley’s Old Plays, 1816.

I have met with no earlier mention of it than that which occurs under a “Note of such playes as were acted at court in 1623 and 1624,” in Sir Henry Herbert’s office-book; “Upon the fifth of November att Whitehall, the prince being there only, The Gipsye, by the Cockpitt company.” Malone’s Shakespeare (by Boswell), vol. iii. p. 227.

“The Story of Roderigo and Clara,” says Langbaine, “has a near resemblance with (if it be not borrow’d from) a Spanish Novel, writ by Miguel de Cervantes, call’d The Force of Blood.” Acc. of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 373. The editor of 1816 chooses to “think it not improbable that the other plot was suggested to our writers by the Beggar’s Bush of Fletcher, and the play-scene by the similar one in the Hamlet of Shakespeare.”

ACT I. SCENE I.

Louis. Roderigo!

Diego. Art mad?

Rod. Yes, not so much with wine: it’s as rare to see a Spaniard a drunkard as a German sober, an Italian no whoremonger, an Englishman to pay his debts. I am no borachio;[170] sack, malaga, nor canary, breeds the calenture in my brains; mine eye mads me, not my cups.

Louis. What wouldst have us do?

Rod. Do?

Diego. So far as ’tis fit for gentlemen[171] we’ll venture.

Rod. I ask no more. I ha' seen a thing has bewitched me; a delicate body, but this in the waist [shewing the size by a sign]; foot and leg tempting; the face I had [only] a glimpse of, but the fruit must needs be delicious, the tree being so beautiful.

Louis. Prithee, to the point.

Rod. Here ’tis: an old gentleman—no matter 104who he is—an old gentlewoman—I ha' nothing to do with her—but a young creature that follows them, daughter or servant, or whatsoever she be, her I must have: they are coming this way; shall I have her? I must have her.

Diego. How, how?

Louis. Thou speakest impossibilities.

Rod. Easy, easy, easy! I'll seize the young girl; stop you the old man; stay you the old woman.

Louis. How then?

Rod. I'll fly off with the young bird, that’s all; many of our Spanish gallants act these merry parts every night. They are weak and old, we young and sprightly: will you assist me?

Louis. Troth, Roderigo, any thing in the way of honour.

Rod. For a wench, man, any course is honourable.

Louis. Nay, not any; her father, if he be[172] her father, may be noble.

Rod. I am as noble.

Louis. Would the adventure were so!

Rod. Stand close, they come.

SCENE II.

SCENE III.

SCENE IV.

SCENE V.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Alv. Come, my brave boys! the tailor’s shears has cut us into shapes fitting our trades.

Car. A trade free as a mason’s.

Ant. A trade brave as a courtier’s; for some of them do but shark, and so do we.

Alv. Gipsies, but no tanned ones; no red-ochre 118rascals umbered with soot and bacon as the English gipsies are, that sally out upon pullen,[191] lie in ambuscado for a rope of onions, as if they were Welsh freebooters; no, our stile has higher steps to climb over, Spanish gipsies, noble gipsies.

Car. I never knew nobility in baseness.

Alv. Baseness? the arts of Cocoquismo and Germania,[192] used by our Spanish pickaroes[193]—I mean filching, foisting,[194] nimming, jilting—we defy;[195] none in our college shall study ’em; such graduates we degrade.

Ant. Who but you?

Alv. So then: now being entered Madrill,[197] the enchanted circle of Spain, have a care to your new lessons.

Car. Ant. We listen.

Alv. Plough deep furrows, to catch deep root in th' opinion of the best, grandees,[198] dukes, marquesses, condes, and other titulados; shew your sports to none but them: what can you do with three or four fools in a dish, and a blockhead cut into sippets?

Ant. Scurvy meat!

Alv. The Lacedemonians threw their beards over their shoulders, to observe what men did behind them as well as before; you must do['t].

Car. We shall never do’t.

Ant. Our muzzles are too short.[199]

Alv. Be not English gipsies, in whose company a man’s not sure of the ears of his head, they so pilfer! no such angling; what you pull to land catch fair: there is no iron so foul but may be gilded; and our gipsy profession, how base soever in show, may acquire commendations.

Car. Gipsies, and yet pick no pockets?

Alv. Infamous and roguy! so handle your webs, that they never come to be woven in the loom of justice: take any thing that’s given you, purses, knives, handkerchers, rosaries, tweezes,[200] any toy, any money; refuse not a marvedi,[201] a blank:[202] feather 120by feather birds build nests, grain pecked up after grain makes pullen[203] fat.

Ant. The best is, we Spaniards are no great feeders.

Alv. If one city cannot maintain us, away to another! our horses must have wings. Does Madrill yield no money? Seville shall; is Seville close-fisted? Valladolid is open; so Cordova,[204] so Toledo. Do not our Spanish wines please us? Italian can then, French can. Preferment’s bow is hard to draw, set all your strengths to it; what you get, keep; all the world is a second Rochelle;[205] make all sure, for you must not look to have your dinner served in with trumpets.

Car. No, no, sack-buts[206] shall serve us.

Alv. When you have money, hide it; sell all our horses but one.

Ant. Why one?

Alv. ’Tis enough to carry our apparel and trinkets, and the less our ambler eats, our cheer is the better. None be sluttish, none thievish, none lazy; all bees, no drones, and our hives shall yield us honey.

Alv. No chamber-comedies: hostess, ply you your tide; flow let ’em to a full sea, but we’ll shew no pastime till after dinner, and that in a full ring of good people, the best, the noblest; no closet-sweetmeats, pray tell ’em so.

Card. I shall. [Exit.

Alv. How old is Pretiosa?

Gui. Twelve and upwards.

Const. I am in my teens, assure you, mother; as little as I am, I have been taken for an elephant; castles and lordships offered to be set upon me, if I would bear ’em: why, your smallest clocks are the prettiest things to carry about gentlemen.

Gui. Nay, child, thou wilt be tempted.

Const. Tempted? though I am no mark in respect of a huge butt, yet I can tell you great bubbers[208] have shot at me, and shot golden arrows, but 122I myself gave aim,[209] thus,—wide, four bows; short, three and a half: they that crack me shall find me as hard as a nut of Galicia; a parrot I am, but my teeth too tender to crack a wanton’s almond.[210]

Card. Here’s gentlemen swear all the oaths in Spain they have seen you, must see you, and will see you.

Alv. To drown this noise let ’em enter.

San. Is your playhouse an inn, a gentleman cannot see you without crumpling his taffeta cloak?

Soto. Nay, more than a gentleman, his man being a diminutive don too.

San. Is this the little ape does the fine tricks?

Const. Come aloft,[218] Jack little ape!

San. Would my jack might come aloft! please you to set the watermill with the ivory cogs[219] in’t a-grinding my handful of purging comfits. [Offers comfits.

Soto. My master desires to have you loose from your company.

Const. Am I a pigeon, think you, to be caught with cummin-seeds?[220] a fly to glue my wings to sweetmeats, and so be ta’en?

San. When do your gambols begin?

Alv. Not till we ha' dined.

San. ’Foot, then your bellies will be so full, you’ll be able to do nothing.—Soto, prithee, set a 124good face on’t, for I cannot, and give the little monkey that letter.

Soto. Walk off and hum to yourself. [Sancho retires.]—I dedicate, sweet Destiny, into whose hand every Spaniard desires to put a distaff, these lines of love. [Offering a paper to Constanza.

Gui. What love? what’s the matter?

Soto. Grave mother Bumby,[221] the mark’s out a' your mouth.

Alv. What’s the paper? from whom comes it?

Soto. The commodity wrapped up in the paper are verses; the warming-pan that puts heat into 'em, yon[222] fire-brained bastard of Helicon.

San. Hum, hum.[223]

Alv. What’s your master’s name?

Soto. His name is Don Tomazo Portacareco, nuncle[224] to young Don Hortado de Mendonza, cousin-german to the Conde de Tindilla, and natural brother to Francisco de Bavadilla, one of the commendadors of Alcantara, a gentleman of long standing.

Alv. And of as long a style.[225]

Const. Verses? I love good ones; let me see ’em.

San. [advancing] Good ones? if they were not good ones, they should not come from me; at the name of verses I can stand on no ground.

125Const. Here’s gold too! whose is this?

San. Whose but yours? If there be[226] any fault in the verses, I can mend it extempore; for a stitch in a man’s stocking not taken up in time, ravels out all the rest.

Soto. Botcherly poetry, botcherly! [Aside.

San. Had every verse a pearl in the eye, it should be thine.

Const. A pearl in mine eye! I thank you for that; do you wish me blind?[227]

San. Ay, by this light do I, that you may look upon nobody’s rhymes[228] but mine.

Const. I should be blind indeed then.[229]

Alv. Pray, sir, read your verses.

San. Shall I sing ’em or say ’em?

Alv. Which you can best.

Soto. Both scurvily. [Aside.

San. I'll set out a throat then.

Soto. Do, master, and I'll run division behind your back.[230]

San. [sings]

Soto. [sings] He maunders.[231]

126San. [sings]

Soto. [sings] And ganders.

San. [sings] O that I were your needle’s eye! How through your linen would I fly, And never leave one stitch awry!

Soto. [sings] He’ll touse ye.

San. [sings] O would I were one of your hairs, That you might comb out all my cares, And kill the nits of my despairs!

Soto. [sings] O lousy!

San. How? lousy? can rhymes be lousy?

Const. } Car., &c.[232] } No, no, they’re excellent.

Alv. But are these all your own?

San. Mine own? would I might never see ink drop out of the nose of any goose-quill more, if velvet cloaks have not clapped me for ’em! Do you like ’em?

San. Would both those were in thy[233] pretty little body, sweet gipsy!

Const. A pistolet[234] and this paper? ’twould choke me.

127Soto. No more than a bribe does a constable: the verses will easily into your head, then buy what you like with the gold, and put it into your belly. I hope I ha' chawed a good reason for you.

San. Will you chaw my jennet ready, sir?

Soto. And eat him down, if you say the word. [Exit.

San. Now the coxcomb my man is gone, because you’re but a country company of strolls, I think your stock is threadbare; here mend it with this cloak.

Alv. What do you mean, sir?

San. This scarf, this feather, and this hat.

Alv. Car., &c.[235] Dear signor!——

San. If they be never so dear:—pox o' this hot ruff! little gipsy, wear thou that. [Giving his ruff.

Alv. Your meaning, sir?

San. My meaning is, not to be an ass, to carry a burden when I need not. If you shew your gambols forty leagues hence, I'll gallop to ’em.—Farewell, old greybeard;—adieu, mother mumble-crust;—morrow, my little wart of beauty. [Exit.

Another MS. addition.]

[Exeunt. Alvarez, Christiana, Carlo, and Antonio; and as Guiamara and Constanza are going out, John pulls the latter back.

128Const. Mother! grandmother!

John. Two rows of kindred in one mouth?

Gui. Be not uncivil, sir; thus have you used her thrice.

John. Thrice? three thousand more: may I not use mine own?

Const. Your own! by what tenure?

John. Cupid entails this land upon me; I have wooed thee, thou art coy: by this air, I am a bull of Tarifa, wild, mad for thee! you told[236] I was some copper coin; I am a knight of Spain; Don Francisco de Carcomo my father, I Don John his son; this paper tells you more. [Gives paper.]—Grumble not, old granam; here’s gold [gives money]; for I must, by this white hand, marry this cherry-lipped, sweet-mouthed villain.

Const. There’s a thing called quando.

John. Instantly.

Gui. Art thou so willing?

John. Peace, threescore and five!

Const. Marry me? eat a chicken ere it be out o' th' shell? I'll wear no shackles; liberty is sweet; that I have, that I'll hold. Marry me? can gold and lead mix together? a diamond and a button of crystal fit one ring? You are too high for me, I am too low; you too great, I too little.

Gui. I pray, leave her, sir, and take your gold again.

Const. Or if you doat, as you say, let me try you do this.

John. Any thing; kill the great Turk, pluck out the Mogul’s eye-teeth; in earnest, Pretiosa, any thing!

Const. Your task[237] is soon set down; turn 129gipsy[238] for two years, be one of us; if in that time you mislike not me nor I you, here’s my hand: farewell. [Exit.

Gui. There’s enough for your gold.—Witty child!

SCENE II.

How[245] now? from whence come you, sir?