in the right of my husband,) I must take place of you, mother. Mrs Touch. That you shall, ladydaughter; and have a coach as well as I too. Gir. Yes, mother. But by your leave, mother, (I speak it not without my duty, but only in my husband's right,) my coach borses must take the wall of your coach horses." The careful father, disappointed in his eldest daughter's match, determines to give his younger to a more homely mate, by whom his hard-earned substance may not be so likely to be squandered in gaming and ordinaries. He accordingly chooses his apprentice Golding. "Mildred, come hither, daughter: and how approve you your sister's fashion? how do you fancy her choice? what dost thou think? Mil. I hope, as a sister, well. Touch. Nay, but nay, but how dost thou like her behaviour and humour? speak freely. Mil. I am loth to speak ill; and yet I am sorry of this, I cannot speak well. Touch. Well, very good; as I would wish a modest answer. Golding, come hither: hither, Golding. How dost thou like the knight, Sir Flash? does he not look big? how lik'st thou the elephant? he says he has a castle in the country. Gold. Pray heaven the elephant carry, not his castle on his back. Touch. 'Fore heaven, very well: but seriously, how dost repute him? Gold. The best I can say of him is, I know him not. Touch. Ha, Golding, I commend thee, I approve thee; and will make it appear, my affection is strong to thee. My wife has her humour, and I will ha' mine. Dost thou see my daughter here? she is not fair, well favoured or so; indifferent; which modest measure of beauty shall not make it thy only work to watch her, nor sufficient mischance to suspect her. Thou art towardly she is modest; thou art vident she is careful. She's now mine: give me thy hand, she's now thine.Work upon that, now. pro Gold. Sir, as your son, I honour you; and as your servant, obey you. Touch. Sayest thou so? Come hither, Mildred. Do you see yon fellow? He is a gentleman, (though my 'prentice,) and has somewhat to take to; a youth of good hope; well friended, well parted. Are you mine? you are his. Work you upon that, now. Mil. Sir, I am all your's; your body gave me life; your care and love, happiness Quick. Not a penny? I have friends, and I have acquaintance. I will pass at thy shop posts, and throw rotten eggs at thy sign Work upon that, now.' [Exit, staggering. Touch. Now, sirrah, you, hear you; you shall serve me no more neither not an hour longer. Gold. What mean you, sir? Touch. I mean to give thee thy freedom; and with thy freedom my daughter: and with my daughter, a father's love." Quicksilver now turns gallant in complete style. He throws aside the cap, usually worn by city-apprentices of the time as a badge of slavery, and exclaims, in all the glory of emancipation, to his mistress, with the spirit of George Barnwell himself, "Sweet Syndefy, bring forth my bra very, Now let my trunks shoot forth their silks conceal'd: I now am free. Avaunt, dull flat-cap, then! Via, the curtain that shaded Borgia! There lie, thou husk of my envassall'd state. I, Sampson, now have burst the Philistine's bands: And in thy lap, my lovely Dalila, I'll lie; and snore out my enfranchis'd state." Like a man of the world, he has now to live upon his wits; and, not being very nice as to the means, he scruples not to appropriate part of honest Touchstone's property to his own use. He becomes a partner in iniquity with Security, the old usurer and procurer; and, as ruined men have generally a practice of clinging to each other, he is found to be hand and glove with the worthy knight, Sir Petronel Flash. These two concert to procure the new-married wife of the latter by a trick; to make over her inheritance for a sum of money, which Security is to advance, and with which these two adventurers, along with others equally desperate, determine to set sail to Virginia, in the expectation of advancing their fortunes there. The bride, in the mean time, is to be sent, with her mother, into the country on a fool's-errand to her husband's castle, which is in fact on his back, and thus to be got out of the way till the embarkation. Quicksilver's mistress is likewise to be disposed of; and she is, therefore, preferred to the place of waiting-maid to the new-made lady, who gives her the following summary of the duties of her post: "Gir. Hark you, good man, you may put on your hat, now I do not look on you.I must have you of my fashion now; not of my knight's, maid. Synd. No, forsooth, madam; of yours. Gir. And draw all my servants in my bow; and keep me counsel; and tell me tales; and put me riddles; and read on a book sometimes, when I am busy; and laugh at country gentlewomen; and command any thing in the house for my retainers; and care not what you spend, for it is all mine; and in any case, be still a maid, whatsoever you do, or whatsoever any man can do unto you. Secu. I warrant your ladyship for that." The plot succeeds. Girtred signs away her property, and departs full of triumph to the castle of her husband; not, however, without being discomfited by the sight of her sister's marriage with her father's industrious apprentice. She exclaims, Sir Petronel, in his turn, now denies the gentility of Touchstone's new son-in-law. The old citizen thus an◄ swers him: ship, sir, there are two sorts of gentlemen. "Touch. An't please your good worPet. What mean you, sir? Touch. Bold to put off my hat to your worship Pet. Nay, pray forbear, sir; and then forth with your two sorts of gentlemen. Touch. If your worship will have it so, I say there are two sorts of gentlemen; There is a gentleman artificial, and a gentleman natural; now, though your worship be a gentleman natural-Work upon that, now." Sir Petronel carries on an intrigue with the handsome wife of the usurer Security, and determines to make her the companion of his voyage. Notwithstanding his jealousy, the old man is made, by a feint, to assist in this part of the plot, and all the while imagine that he is only helping to ease his friend Lawyer Bramble of his helpmate. He is even brought to comfort her when she is about to set off. "Pet. A word, I beseech you, sir: Our friend, Mistress Bramble here, is so dissolved in tears, that she drowns the whole mirth of our meeting; sweet gossip, take her aside and comfort her. Sec. Pity of all true love, Mistress Bramble: what! weep you to enjoy your love? what's the cause, lady? First, because your husband is so near, and your heart earns to have a little abused him! Alas, alas! the offence is too common to be respected." The adventurers take a boat with their female, but are overset, and with difficulty escape a watery death.Quicksilver is taken up at the gallows; which one of the spectators ob upon serves,― "O me! a fine young gentleman! what, and taken up at the gallows? Heaven grant he be not one day taken down there. O'my life, it is ominous." Sir Petronel, whose head is not a little disturbed by the fumes of wine, imagines himself cast on the coast of France. "Enter PETRONEL and SEAGULL, barcheaded. Pet. Zounds! captain, I tell thee we are cast up o'the coast of France. 'Sfoot, I am not drunk still, I hope. Do'st remember where we were last night? Sea. No, by my troth, knight, not I; but methinks we have been a horrible while upon the water, and in the water. Pet. Ah me, we are undone for ever! hast any money about thee? Sea. Not a penny, by heaven. Pet. Not a penny betwixt us, and cast ashore in France! Sea. Faith, I cannot tell that; my brains, nor mine eyes, are not mine own yet. Enter two Gentlemen. Pet. 'Sfoot, wilt not believe me? I know by the elevation of the pole, and by the altitude and latitude of the climate.-See, here come a couple of French gentlemen; I knew we were in France; dost thou think our Englishmen are so Frenchified, that a man knows not whether he be in France or in England when he sees 'em? What shall we do? We must e'en to 'em, and entreat some relief of 'em: life is sweet, and we have no other means to relieve our lives now, but their charities. Sea. Pray you, do you beg on 'em then you can speak French. Pet. Monsieur, plaist il d'avoir pity de notre grand infortune: Je suis un pauvre Chevalier d'Angleterre, qui a suffri l' infortune de naufrage. 1 Gent. Un pauvre Chevalier d' Angleterre? Pet. Ouy, Monsieur, il est trop vray; mais vous sçavez bien, nous sommes tous sujet à fortune. 2 Gent. A poor knight of England? a poor knight of Windsor, are you not? Why speak you this broken French, when y'are a whole Englishman? On what coast are you, think you? 1 Gent. On the coast of dogs, sir. Y'are i'th'Isle of Dogs, I tell you. I see y'have been wash'd in the Thames here; and I believe ye were drown'd in a tavern before, or else you would never have took boat in such a dawning as this was. Farewell, farewell; we will not know you for shaming of you. I ken the man well; he's one of my thirty pound knights. 2 Gent. Now this is he that stole his knighthood o' the grand day, for four pound given to a page, all the money in's purse I wot well.' The old usurer's helpmate manages to get to her husband, and to blind him as to her departure. The rest are not so fortunate. Quicksilver and Petronel are taken by the constable before Golding, the industrious apprentice, now advancing high in city credit, and an alderman's deputy. He commits them to the counter, to repent themselves at their leisure. After telling Touchstone of his new honours, the old gentleman thus addresses him: "Worshipful son, I cannot contain myself, I must tell thee, I hope to see thee one of the monuments of our city, and reckoned among her worthies, to be remembered the same day with the lady Ramsay, and grave Gresham; when the famous fable of Whittington and his puss shall be for. gotten, and thou and thy acts become the posies for hospitals; when thy name shall be written upon conduits, and thy deeds play'd i'thy lifetime, by the best company of actors, and be called their Get-penny. This I divine and prophecy." Meanwhile the undeceived and mortified lady returns to her father, who will not receive her. She thus condoles with her maid: "Gir. Ah, Synne! hast thou ever read i'the chronicle of any lady and her waitingwoman driven to that extremity that we are, Synne? Synd. Not I truly, madam; and if I had, it were but cold comfort should come out of books now. Gir. Why, good faith, Syn, I could dine with a lamentable story now; O hone hone, o no nera, &c. Can'st thou tell ne'er a one, Syn? Synd. None but mine own, madam, which is lamentable enough: first, to be stol'n from my friends, which were wor shipful, and of good account, by a 'pren tice, in the habit and disguise of a gentleman; and here brought up to London, and promised marriage; and now, likely to be forsaken; for he's in a possibility to be hang'd. Gir. Nay, weep not, good Synne. My Petronel is in as good possibility as he. Thy miseries are nothing to mine, Synne. I was more than promised marriage, Synne; I had it, Synne; and was made a lady; and by a knight, Syn, which is now as good as no knight, Syn. And I was born in London; which is more than brought up, Syn: and already forsaken, which is past likelihood, Syn: and instead of land i'the country, all my knight's living lies i'the Counter, Syn; there's his castle now. Synd. Which he cannot be forced out of, madam. Gir. Yes, if he would live hungry a week or two; hunger, they say, breaks stone walls. But he's e'en well enough served, Syn, that so soon as ever he got my hand to the sale of my inheritance, ran away from me, as I had been his punk, God bless us! Would the Knight of the Sun, or Palmerine of England, have used their ladies so, Synne? or Sir Launcelot ? or Sir Tristrem? Synd. I do not know, madam. Gir. Then thou knowest nothing, Syn. Thou art a fool, Syn. The knighthoods now-a-days are nothing like the knighthood of old time. They rid a-horse-back; ours go a-foot. They were attended by their 'squires; ours by their ladies. They went buckled in their armour; ours muffled in their cloaks. They travel'd wildernesses and deserts; ours dare scarce walk the streets. They were still prest to engage their honour; ours ready to pawn their clothes. They would gallop on at sight of a monster; ours run away at sight of a serjeant. They would help poor ladies; ours make poor ladies. Synd. Ay, madam; they were the knights of the Round Table at Winchester that sought adventures; but these of the Square Table, at ordinaries, that sit at hazard." The whole scene is very pleasant, and we would gladly quote it did our limits allow. The prisoners attempt a reconciliation with Touchstone, who is, however, immoveable. The account which the keeper of the prison gives of their devout turn of mind and penitence is very humorous, and bears all the marks of Ben Jonson's style. "Gold. Here's a great deal of humility i'these letters. Wolf. Humility, sir? ay, were your worship an eye-witness of it you would say so. The knight will be i'the Knight's-ward, do what we can, sir; and Mr Quicksilver would be i'the Hole, if we would let him. I never knew or saw prisoners more penitent, or more devout. They will sit you up all night singing of psalms, and edify. ing the whole prison. Only Security sings a note too high sometimes; because he lies i'the Twopenny-ward, far off, and cannot take his tune. The neighbours cannot rest for him, but come every morning to ask, what godly prisoners we have. Touch. Which on 'em is't is so devout, the knight or t'other ? Wolf. Both, sir; but the young man especially; I never heard his like. He has cut his hair too; he is so well given, and has such good gifts! He can tell you almost all the stories of the Book of Martyrs; and speak you all the Sick Man's Salve, without book. Touch. Ay, if he had had grace, he was brought up where it grew, I wis. On, Mr Wolf. Wolf. And he has converted one Fangs, a serjeant; a fellow could neither write nor read. He was called the ban-dog o'the Counter; and he has brought him already to pair his nails, and say his prayers; and 'tis hop'd he will sell his place shortly, and become an intelligencer.' Golding finding his father reject all overtures from the humble prodigals of the counter, to effect a reconciliation, by a stratagem procures Touch stone to be a witness to the penitence of the knight and the apprentice, the latter of whom is doling out miserable ballads, to the edification of the hearers, far and near. These ballads are an admirable burlesque of the puritanical poetry of the time. "Touch. Who is this? my man Francis, and my son-in-law ! Quick. Sir, it is all the testimony I shall leave behind me to the world and my master, that I have so offended. Friend. Good sir! Quick. I writ it when my spirits were oppress'd. Pet. Ay, I'll be sworn for you, Francis. Quick. It is in imitation of Mannington's; he that was hang'd at Cambridge, that cut off the horse's head at a blow. Friend. So, sir. Quick. To the tune of, I wail in woe, I plunge in pain. Pet. An excellent ditty it is, and worthy of a new tune. Quick. In Cheapside, famous for gold and Quicksilver I did dwell of late: He bade me still, work upon that; Quick. I cast my coat and cap away; I scorn'd my master, being drunk ; I thought by sea to run away, But Thames and tempest did me stay. Touch. This cannot be feigned sure. Heaven pardon my severity! The ragged colt may prove a good horse. Gold. How he listens and is transported! he has forgot me. Quick. Still Eastward-hoe was all my But Westward I had no regard: As did, alas! his youngest daughter. Wolf. Stay him, Mr Deputy, now is the time; we shall lose the song else. Friend. I protest it is the best that ever I heard. Quick. How like you it, gentlemen ? Quick. This stanza now following al- to trace out the different authors in their several parts, and unquestionably the difficulty is greater in comedy. In tragedy there is less danger of mistake, inasmuch as the conception and expression of passion take a more certain character from the mind which forms them, and fall more into a marked and distinguishing mould, by which that may be ascertained, than the sentiments of common life, which allow of little variation, or the displays of wit, which admit scarcely more. Yet there appears little reason to That I may cut off the horse-head of doubt that Jonson had not the chief sin; And leave his body in the dust Of sin's high-way, and bogs of lust; Whereby I may take virtue's purse, And live with her, for better, for worse. Friend. Admirable, sir! and excellently conceited! Quick. Alas, sir! Touch. Son Golding, and Mr Wolf, I thank you; the deceit is welcome, especially from thee, whose charitable soul in this hath shewn a high point of wisdom and honesty. Listen! I am ravished with his repentance, and could stand here a whole 'prenticeship to hear him." The result is easily anticipated. The penitents are forgiven, and restored to favour again-the proud daughter, the extravagant son-in-law, and the idle apprentice, are reformed, and are rendered wiser by experience. There are no scenes in this play peculiarly rich in humour, nor are any of the characters marked with great force; yet, upon the whole, it is an agreeable performance. The plot is easy, natural, and unperplexed, the dialogue is flowing, and seldom deficient in pleasantry. The latter is occasionally disfigured by grossness and double-entendre; it has, however, less of conceits and quaintness than is usually met with in comedies of the day. When it is not licentious, it is generally intelligible, and has lost little by time. In conjunct performances of this kind, it is frequently rather difficult part in the writing of this play.It bears no marks of his peculiar excellencies or defects; it has not that bold delineation of character, that high-wrought finish of dialogue, or that peculiar richness of humour, which his best pieces display, and which, at the time of the composition of the present comedy, being shortly after the production of those pieces, he would have been fully able to bring forth. Neither, on the other hand, is it distinguished by his hardnesses. He elaborated his characters frequently too much, by continually retouching them; and altered and added to his scenes and dialogue, till he lost the freedom of the former, and encrusted the latter with conceits. There is nothing of this in the present play. The style of it bears more resemblance to that of Chapman, in whose comedies there is a more feeble conception of character, and a less poignant vein of humour, but much simplicity and unpretending ease. Probably Jonson first sketched the plan, which might be filled up by Chapman, and receive a few witty and satirical touches from the pen of Marston, whose manner is, however, more difficult to catch at. The whole, it is likely, underwent the revisal of Jonson, traces of whom are chiefly discernible in the character of Touchstone, and in the concluding scenes. J. C. Marston certainly wrote the passage upon the Scotch, for which he and his coadjutors were imprisoned. There is another similar stroke of ridicule in his Satires. Mr Gifford has ably examined the accounts of their imprisonment, which are full of idle gossiping and inaccuracies. Marston seems to have had much of the gall of the satirist about him. His disposition was not more amiable than his writings. |