Title:   Anything for a Quiet Life

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Author:   Thomas Middleton

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PDF Version:   1.2



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Anything for a Quiet Life

Thomas Middleton



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Table of Contents

Anything for a Quiet Life...................................................................................................................................1

Thomas Middleton ...................................................................................................................................1

I.[i. Sir Francis Cressingham's house].....................................................................................................2

II.[i. Knavesbee's house] ........................................................................................................................13

III.[i. Lord Beaufort's house].................................................................................................................33

IV.[i. Sir Francis's house]......................................................................................................................46

V.[i. Before Sir Francis's house] ............................................................................................................62


Anything for a Quiet Life

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Anything for a Quiet Life

Thomas Middleton

Act I 

Act II 

Act III 

Act IV 

Act V  

* * *

Dramatis Personae 

Lord BEAUFORT 

SIR FRANCIS Cressingham, an alchemist 

OLD FRANKLIN, a country gentleman 

George CRESSINGHAM, son to Sir Francis 

FRANKLIN, a sea captain, son to Old Franklin, and companion to George Cressingham 

Master Water CHAMLET, a citizen 

KNAVESBEE, a lawyer, and pander to his wife 

SAUNDER, steward to Sir Francis 

GEORGE and RALPH, two prentices to Water Chamlet 

A SURVEYOR 

Sweetball, a BARBER 

[Toby, the] Barber's BOY 

FLESHHOOK and COUNTERBUFF, a sergeant and a yeoman 

[MARIA and EDWARD,] two children of Sir Francis Cressingham, nurs'd by Water Chamlet 

[Three CREDITORS named Pennystone, Phillip, and Cheyney] 

LADY CRESSINGHAM, wife to Sir Francis 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM, wife to George Cressingham, disguised as] Selenger, page to the Lord Beaufort 

RACHEL, wife to Water Chamlet 

SIB, Knavesbee's wife 

MARGARITA, a French bawd

PROLOGUE

Howe'er th' intents and appetites of men 

Are different as their faces, how and when 

T' employ their actions, yet all without strife 

Meet in this point: Anything for a Quiet Life. 

Nor is there one, I think, that's hither come 

For his delight, but would find peace at home 

On any terms. The lawyer does not cease 

To talk himself into a sweat without pain, 

And so his fees buy quiet, 'tis his gain: 

The poor man does endure the scorching sun, 

And feels no weariness, his daylabour done, 

So his wife entertain him with a smile, 

And thank his travail, though she slept the while. 

This being in men of all conditions true, 

Does give our play a name; and if to you 

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It yield content, and usual delight, 

For our parts we shall sleep secure tonight. 

I.[i. Sir Francis Cressingham's house]

Enter the Lord Beaufort and Sir Francis Cressingham. 

BEAUFORT

Away, I am asham'd of your proceedings, 

And, seriously, you have in this one act 

Overthrown the reputation the world 

Held of your wisdom. 

SIR FRANCIS

Why, sir? 

BEAUFORT

Can you not see 

Your error? That having buried so good a wife 

Not a month since, one thatto speak the truth, 

Had all those excellencies which our books 

Have only feign'd to make a complete wife, 

Most exactly in her in practiceand to marry 

A girl of fifteen, one bred up i' th' court, 

That by all consonancy of reason, is like 

To cross your estate. Why, one new gown of hers, 

When 'tis paid for, will eat you out of the keeping 

Of a bountiful Christmas. I am asham'd of you, 

For you shall make too dear a proof of it, 

I fear, that in the election of a wife, 

As in a project of war, to err but once 

Is to be undone forever. 

SIR FRANCIS

Good my lord, 

I do beseech you let your better judgment 

Go along with your reprehension. 

BEAUFORT

So it does, 

And can find nought to extenuate your fault, 

But your dotage: you are a man well sunk in years, 

And to graft such a young blossom into your stock, 

Is the next way to make every carnal eye 

Bespeak your injury. Troth, I pity her too; 

She was not made to wither and go out 

By painted fires, that yields her no more heat 

Than to be lodg'd in some bleak banqueting house 

I' th' dead of winter. And what follows then? 


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Your shame, and the ruin of your children, and there's 

The end of a rash bargain. 

SIR FRANCIS

With your pardon, 

That she is young is true; but that discretion 

Has gone beyond her years, and overta'en 

Those of maturer age, does more improve 

Her goodness. I confess she was bred at court, 

But so retiredly, that as still the best 

In some place is to be learnt there, so her life 

Did rectify itself more by the court chapel 

Than by the office of the revels; best of all virtues 

Are to be found at court, and where you meet 

With writings contrary to this known truth, 

They are framed by men that never were so happy 

To be planted there to know it: for the difference 

Between her youth and mine, if you will read 

A matron's sober staidness in her eye, 

And all the other grave demeanour fitting 

The governess of a house, you'll then confess 

There's no disparity between us. 

Enter Master Water Chamlet. 

BEAUFORT

Come, come, you read 

What you would her to be, not what she is. 

Oh, Master Water Chamlet, you are welcome. 

CHAMLET

I thank your lordship. 

BEAUFORT

And what news stirring in Cheapside? 

CHAMLET

Nothing new there, my lord, but the Standard. 

BEAUFORT

Oh, that's a monument your wives take great delight in; I do hear you are grown a mighty purchaser. I hope

shortly to find you a continual resident upon the north aisle of the Exchange. 

CHAMLET

Where? With the Scotchmen? 

BEAUFORT

No, sir, with the aldermen. 

CHAMLET

Believe it, I am a poor commoner. 


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SIR FRANCIS

Come, you are warm, and blest with a fair wife. 

CHAMLET

There's it: her going brave has the only virtue to improve my credit in the subsidy book. 

BEAUFORT

But I pray, how thrives your new plantation of silkworms, those I saw last summer at your garden? 

CHAMLET

They are remov'd, sir. 

BEAUFORT

Whither? 

CHAMLET

This winter my wife has remov'd them home to a fair chamber, where diverse courtiers use to come and see

them, and my wife carries them up; I think shortly, what with the store of visitants, they'll prove as

chargeable to me as the morrow after Simon and Jude, only excepting the taking down and setting up again of

my glass windows. 

BEAUFORT

That a man of your estate should be so grippleminded, and repining at his wife's bounty! 

SIR FRANCIS

There are no such ridiculous things i' th' world as those love money better than themselves; for though they

have understanding to know riches, a mind to seek them, and a wit to find them, and policy to keep them, and

long life to possess them, yet commonly they have withal such a false sight, such blear'd eyes, all their wealth

when it lies before them does seem poverty, and such a one are you. 

CHAMLET

Good Sir Francis, you have had sore eyes too: you have been a gamester, but you have given it o'er, and to

redeem the vice belong'd to't, now you entertain certain [parcels] of silenc'd ministers, which I think will

equally undo you. Yet should these waste you but lenitively, your devising new watermill[s] for recovery of

drown'd land, and certain dreams you have in alchemy to find the philosopher's stone, will certainly draw you

to th' bottom. I speak freely, sir, and would not have you angry, for I love you. 

SIR FRANCIS

I am deeply in your books for furnishing my late wedding. Have you brought a note of the particulars? 

CHAMLET

No, sir; at more leisure. 

SIR FRANCIS

What comes the sum to? 

CHAMLET

For tissue, cloth of gold, velvets and silks, about fifteen hundred pounds. 

SIR FRANCIS


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Your money is ready. 

CHAMLET

Sir, I thank you. 

SIR FRANCIS

And how does my two young children, whom I have put to board with you? 

BEAUFORT

Have you put forth two of your children already? 

SIR FRANCIS

'Twas my wife's discretion to have it so. 

BEAUFORT

Come, 'tis the first principle in a motherinlaw's choplogic to divide the family, to remove from forth your

sight the object[s] that her cunning knows would dull her insinuation. Had you been a kind father, it would

have been your practice every day to have preach'd to these two young ones carefully your late wife's funeral

sermon. 'Las, poor souls, are they turn'd so soon agrazing? 

Enter George Cressingham and Franklin. 

CHAMLET

My lord, they are plac'd where they shall be respected as mine own. 

BEAUFORT

I make no question of it, good Master Chamlet. 

[To Sir Francis] See here your eldest son, [George] Cressingham. 

SIR FRANCIS

You have displeas'd and griev'd your motherinlaw, 

And till you have made submission and procur'd 

Her pardon, I'll not know you for my son. 

CRESSINGHAM

I have wrought her no offense, sir. The difference 

Grew about certain jewels which my mother, 

By your consent, lying upon her deathbed, 

Bequeath'd to her three children; these I demanded, 

And being denied these, thought this sin of hers, 

To violate so gentle a request 

Of her predecessor, was an ill foregoing 

Of a motherinlaw's harsh nature. 

SIR FRANCIS

Sir, understand 

My will mov'd in her denial: you have jewels, 

To pawn or sell them. Sirrah, I will have you 

As obedient to this woman as to myself; 

Till then, you are none of mine. 


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CHAMLET

Oh, Master George, 

Be rul'd, do anything for a quiet life! 

Your father's peace of life moves in it too. 

I have a wife: when she is in the sullens, 

Like a cook's dog that you see turn a wheel, 

She will be sure to go and hide herself 

Out of the way dinner and supper, and in 

These fits Bow Bell is a still organ to her. 

When we were married first, I well remember, 

Her railing did appear but a vision, 

Till certain scratches on my hand and face 

Assur'd me it was substantial. She's a creature 

Uses to waylay my faults, and more desires 

To find them out than to have them amended. 

She has a book, which I may truly nominate 

Her Black Book, for she remembers in it 

In short items all my misdemeanours, 

As: Item, such a day I was got fox'd with foolish metheglin in the company of certain Welsh chapmen; item,

such a day being at the Artillery Garden, one of my neighbours in courtesy to salute me with his musket, set

afire my fustianandapes breeches; such a day I lost fifty pound in huggermugger at dice in the

questhouse; item, I lent money to a sea captain on his bare "Confound him, he would pay me again the next

morning," and such like, 

For which she rail'd upon me when I should sleep, 

And that's, you know, intolerable, for indeed 

'Twill tame an elephant. 

CRESSINGHAM

'Tis a shrewd vexation, 

But your discretion, sir, does bear it out 

With a month's sufferance. 

CHAMLET

Yes, and I would wish you 

To follow mine example. 

FRANKLIN

Here's small comfort, 

George, from your father: here's a lord whom I 

Have long depended upon for employment; I will see 

If my suit will thrive better. [To Beaufort] Please your lordship, 

You know I am a younger brother, and my fate, 

Throwing me upon the late illstarr'd voyage 

To Guiana, failing of our golden hopes, 

I and my ship address'd ourselves to serve 

The duke of Florence. 

BEAUFORT

Yes, I understood it so. 

FRANKLIN


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Page No 9


Who gave me both encouragement and means 

To do him some small service 'gainst the Turk; 

Being settled there, both in his pay and trust, 

Your lordship, minding to rig forth a ship 

To trade for the East Indies, sent for me, 

And what your promise was, if I would leave 

So great a fortune to become your servant, 

Your letters yet can witness. 

BEAUFORT

Yes, what follows? 

FRANKLIN

That for aught I perceive, your former purpose 

Is quite forgotten: I have stayed here two months 

And find your intended voyage but a dream, 

And the ship you talk of as imaginary, 

As that the astronomers point at in the clouds. 

I have spent two thousand ducats since my arrival; 

Men that have command, my lord, at sea cannot live 

Ashore without money. 

BEAUFORT

Know, sir, a late purchase 

Which cost me a great sum has diverted me 

From my former purpose; besides, suits in law 

Do every term so trouble me by land, 

I have forgot going by water. If you please 

To rank yourself among my followers, 

You shall be welcome, and I'll make your means 

Better than any gentleman's I keep. 

FRANKLIN

Some twenty mark a year! Will that maintain 

Scarlet and gold lace, play at th' ordinary, 

And bevers at the tavern? 

BEAUFORT

I had thought 

To prefer you to have been captain of a ship 

That's bound for the Red Sea. 

FRANKLIN

What hinders it? 

BEAUFORT

Why, certainly, the merchants are possess'd 

You have been a pirate. 

FRANKLIN

Say I were one still, 


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Page No 10


If I were past the Line once, why methinks 

I should do them better service. 

Enter Knavesbee. 

BEAUFORT

Pray, forbear. 

Here's a gentleman whose business 

Must engross me wholly. 

[Cressingham takes Franklin aside as Beaufort and Knavesbee talk.] 

CRESSINGHAM

What's he? Dost thou know him? 

FRANKLIN

A pox upon him! A very knave and rascal 

That goes ahunting with the penal statutes; 

And good for nought but to persuade their lords 

To rack their rents, and give o'er housekeeping. 

Such caterpillars may hang at their lord's ears 

When better men are neglected. 

CRESSINGHAM

What's his name? 

FRANKLIN

Knavesbee. 

CRESSINGHAM

Knavesbee! 

FRANKLIN

One that deals in a tenth share 

About projections: he and his partners, when 

They have got a suit once past the seal, will so 

Wrangle about partition, and sometimes 

They fall to th' ears about it, like your fencers, 

That cudgel one another by patent; you shall see him 

So terribly bedash'd in a Michaelmas term 

Coming from Westminster, that you would swear 

He were lighted from a horse race. Hang him, hang him! 

He's a scurvy informer; h'as more cozenage in him 

Than is in five travelling lotteries. 

To feed a kite with the carrion of this knave 

When he's dead, and reclaim her, oh, she would prove 

An excellent hawk for talon! H'as a fair creature 

To his wife too, and a witty rogue it is, 

And some men think this knave will wink at small faults. 

But, honest George, what shall become of us now? 


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CRESSINGHAM

Faith, I am resolv'd to set up my rest 

For the Low Countries. 

FRANKLIN

To serve there? 

CRESSINGHAM

Yes, certain. 

FRANKLIN

There's thin commons; besides, they have added one day 

More to th' week than was in the creation. 

Art thou valiant? Art thou valiant, George? 

CRESSINGHAM

I may be, and I be put [to]'t. 

FRANKLIN

O never fear that; 

Thou canst not live two hours after thy landing 

Without a quarrel. Thou must resolve to fight, 

Or, like a sumner, thou'lt be bastanado'd 

At every town's end. You shall have gallants there 

As ragged as the fall o' th' leaf, that live 

In Holland, where the finest linen's made, 

And yet wear ne'er a shirt. These will not only 

Quarrel with a newcomer when they are drunk, 

But they will quarrel with any man has means 

To be drunk afore them. Follow my council, George, 

Thou shalt not go o'er; we'll live here i' th' city. 

CRESSINGHAM

But how? 

FRANKLIN

How? Why, as other gallants do 

That feed high, and play copiously, yet brag 

They have but nine pound a year to live on. These have wit 

To turn rich fools and gulls into quarterdays, 

That bring them in certain payment. I have a project 

Reflects upon yon merchant, Master Chamlet, 

Shall put us into money. 

CRESSINGHAM

What is't? 

FRANKLIN

Nay, 

I will not stale it aforehand; 'tis a new one. 

Nor cheating amongst gallants may seem strange; 


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Page No 12


Why, a reaching wit goes current on th' Exchange. 

Exeunt George Cressingham and Franklin. 

KNAVESBEE

O my lord, I remember you and I were students together at Cambridge; but believe me, you went far beyond

me. 

BEAUFORT

When I studied there, I had so fantastical a brain, that like a felfare, frighted in winter by a birdingpiece, I

could settle nowhere: here and there a little of every several art, and away. 

KNAVESBEE

Now my wit, though it were more dull, yet I went slowly on, and as diverse others, when I could not prove an

excellent scholar, by a plodding patience I attain'd to be a petty lawyer; and I thank my dullness for't. You

may stamp in lead any figure, but in oil or quicksilver nothing can be imprinted, for they keep no certain

station. 

BEAUFORT

O, you tax me well of irresolution; but say, worthy friend, how thrives my weighty suit which I have trusted

to your friendly bosom? Is there any hope to make me happy? 

KNAVESBEE

'Tis yet questionable, for I have not broke the ice to her; an hour hence come to my house, and if it lie in man,

be sure, as the law phrase says, I will create you lord paramount of your wishes. 

BEAUFORT

O my best friend, and one that takes the hardest course i' th' world to make himself so! 

[Exit Knavesbee.] 

Sir, now I'll take my leave. 

SIR FRANCIS

Nay, good my lord; my wife is coming down. 

Enter Lady Cressingham and Saunder. 

BEAUFORT

Pray, pardon me, I have business so importunes me o' th' sudden, I cannot stay; deliver mine excuse, and in

your ear this: let not a fair woman make you forget your children. 

[Exit.] 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

What? Are you taking leave too? 

CHAMLET

Yes, good madam. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM


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Page No 13


The rich stuff[s] which my husband bought of you, the works of them are too common. I have got a Dutch

painter to draw patterns, which I'll have sent to your factors, as in Italy, at Florence and Ragusa, where these

stuffs are woven, to have pieces made for mine own wearing of a new invention. 

CHAMLET

You may, lady, but 'twill be somewhat chargeable. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Chargeable! What of that? If I live another year, I'll have my agents shall lie for me at Paris, and at Venice,

and at Valladolid in Spain, for intelligence of all new fashions. 

SIR FRANCIS

Do, sweetest; thou deserv'st to be exquisite in all things. 

CHAMLET

The two children to which you are motherinlaw would be repaired too; 'tis time they had new clothing. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

I pray, sir, do not trouble me with them; 

They have a father indulgent and careful of them. 

SIR FRANCIS

I am sorry you made the motion to her. 

CHAMLET

I have done. 

[Aside] He has run himself into a pretty dotage. 

Madam, with your leave. 

[Aside] He's tied to a new law and a new wife, 

Yet to my old proverb, "Anything for a Quiet Life." 

Exit Chamlet. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Good friend, I have a suit to you. 

SIR FRANCIS

Dearest self, you most powerfully sway me. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

That you would give o'er this fruitless, if I may not say this idle, study of alchemy; why, half your house

looks like a glasshouse. 

SAUNDER

And the smoke you make is a worse enemy to good housekeeping than tobacco. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Should one of your glasses break, it might bring you to a dead palsy. 

SAUNDER

My lord, your quicksilver has made all your more solid gold and silver fly in fume. 


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Page No 14


SIR FRANCIS

I'll be rul'd by you in anything. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Go, Saunder, break all the glasses. 

SAUNDER

I fly to't. 

Exit Saunder. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Why, noble friend, would you find the true philosopher's stone indeed, my good housewifery should do it.

You understand I was bred up with a great courtly lady; do not think all women mind gay clothes and riot:

there are some widows living have improv'd both their own fortunes and their children's. Would you take my

counsel, I'd advise you to sell your land. 

SIR FRANCIS

My land! 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Yes, and the manor house upon't: 'tis rotten. Oh, the newfashion'd buildings brought from the Hague: 'tis

stately! I have intelligence of a purchase, and the title sound, will for half the money you may sell yours for,

bring you in more rent than yours now yields you. 

SIR FRANCIS

If it be so good a pennyworth, I need not sell my land to purchase it: I'll procure money to do it. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Where, sir? 

SIR FRANCIS

Why, I'll take it up at interest. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Never did any man thrive that purchas'd with usemoney. 

SIR FRANCIS

How come you to know these thrifty principles? 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

How? Why, my father was a lawyer, and died in the commission, and may not I by a natural instinct have a

reaching that way? There are, on mine own knowledge, some divines' daughters infinitely affected with

reading controversies, and that, some think, has been a means to bring so many suits into the spiritual court.

Pray, be advised, sell your land, and purchase more: I knew a peddlar by being merchant this way, is become

lord of many manors. We should look to lengthen our estates as we do our lives; 

Enter Saunder. 

And though I am young, yet I am confident 


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Page No 15


Your able constitution of body 

When you are past fourscore, shall keep you fresh 

Till I arrive at the neglected year 

That I am past childbearing, and yet [even] there 

Quick'ning our faint heats in a soft embrace, 

And kindling divine flames in fervent prayers, 

We may both go out together, and one tomb 

Quit our executors the rites of two. 

SIR FRANCIS

Oh, you are so wise and so good in everything: 

I move by your direction. 

SAUNDER

[Aside] She has caught him! 

Exeunt. 

II.[i. Knavesbee's house]

Enter Knavesbee and his wife [Sib]. Table. 

KNAVESBEE

Have you drunk the eggs and muscadine I sent you? 

[SIB]

No, they are too fulsome. 

KNAVESBEE

Away, y'are a fool! 

[Aside] How shall I begin to break the matter to her? 

I do long, wife. 

[SIB]

Long, sir? 

KNAVESBEE

Long infinitely. 

Sit down; there is a penitential motion in me, 

Which if thou wilt but second, I shall be 

One of the happiest men in Europe. 

[SIB]

What might that be? 

KNAVESBEE

I had last night one of the strangest dreams; 

Methought I was thy confessor, thou mine, 

And we reveal'd between us privately 


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Page No 16


How often we had wrong'd each other's bed 

Since we were married. 

[SIB]

Came you drunk to bed? 

There was a dream with a witness! 

KNAVESBEE

No, no witness. 

I dreamt nobody heard it but we two. 

This dream, wife, do I long to put in act: 

Let us confess each other, and I vow 

Whatever thou hast done with that sweet corpse 

In the way of natural frailty, I protest 

Most freely I will pardon. 

[SIB]

Go sleep again! 

Was there ever such a motion? 

KNAVESBEE

Nay, sweet woman, 

And thou wilt not have me run mad with my desire, 

Be persuaded to't. 

[SIB]

Well, be it your pleasure. 

KNAVESBEE

But to answer truly. 

[SIB]

O, most sincerely! 

KNAVESBEE

Begin then: examine me first. 

[SIB]

Why, I know not what to ask you. 

KNAVESBEE

Let me see. Your father was a captain: demand of me how many dead pays I am to answer for in the

musterbook of wedlock, by the martial fault of borrowing from my neighbours. 

[SIB]

Troth, I can ask no such foolish questions. 

KNAVESBEE

Why then, open confession I hope, dear wife, will merit freer pardon: I sinn'd twice with my laundress, and

last circuit there was at Banbury a shechamberlain that had a spice of purity, but at last I prevailed over her. 


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[SIB]

O, you are an ungracious husband! 

KNAVESBEE

I have made a vow never to ride abroad but in thy company. Oh, a little drink makes me clamber like a

monkey! Now, sweet wife, you have been an outlier too: which is best feed, in the forest or in the purlieus? 

[SIB]

A foolish mind of you i' this! 

KNAVESBEE

Nay, sweet love, confess freely; I have given you the example. 

[SIB]

Why, you know I went last year to [Sturbridge] Fair. 

KNAVESBEE

Yes. 

[SIB]

And being in Cambridge, a handsome scholar, one of [Emmanuel] College, fell in love with me. 

KNAVESBEE

O, you sweetbreath'd monkey! 

[SIB]

Go hang, you are so boisterous! 

KNAVESBEE

But did this scholar show thee his chamber? 

[SIB]

Yes. 

KNAVESBEE

And didst thou like him? 

[SIB]

Like him! Oh, he had the most enticing'st strawcolour'd beard, a woman with black eyes would have lov'd

him like jet! He was the finest man, with a formal wit; and he had a fine dog that sure was whelp'd i' th'

college, for he understood Latin. 

KNAVESBEE

Pooh waw! This is nothing till I know what he did in's chamber. 

[SIB]

He burnt wormwood in't to kill the fleas i' th' rushes. 

KNAVESBEE

But what did he to thee there? 


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[SIB]

Some fiveandtwenty years hence I may chance tell you. Fie upon you! What tricks, what crotchets are

these? Have you plac'd anybody behind the arras to hear my confession? I heard one in England got a divorce

from's wife by such a trick; were I dispos'd now, I would make you as mad. You shall see me play the

changeling. 

KNAVESBEE

No, no, wife, you shall see me play the changeling: hadst thou confess'd, this other suit I'll now prefer to thee

would have been dispatch'd in a trice. 

[SIB]

And what's that, sir? 

KNAVESBEE

Thou wilt wonder at it fourandtwenty years longer than nine days. 

[SIB]

I would very fain hear it. 

KNAVESBEE

There is a lord o' th' court, upon my credit, a most dear, honourable friend of mine, that must lie with thee. Do

you laugh? 'Tis not come to that; you'll laugh when you know who 'tis. 

[SIB]

Are you stark mad? 

KNAVESBEE

On my religion, I have past my word for't. 

'Tis the Lord Beaufort: thou art made happy forever! 

The generous and bountiful Lord Beaufort! 

You being both so excellent, 'twere pity 

If such rare pieces should not be conferred 

And sampled together. 

[SIB]

Do you mean seriously? 

KNAVESBEE

As I hope for preferment. 

[SIB]

And can you lose me thus? 

KNAVESBEE

Lose you! I shall love you the better! Why, what's the viewing any wardrobe or jewelhouse without a

companion to confer their likings? Yet now I view thee well, methinks thou art a rare monopoly, and great

pity one man should enjoy thee. 

[SIB]

This is pretty! 


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KNAVESBEE

Let's divorce ourselves so long, or think I am gone to th' Indies, or lie with him when I am asleep, for some

Familists of Amsterdam will tell you [it] may be done with a safe conscience. Come, you wanton, what hurt

can this do to you? I protest nothing so much as to keep company with an old woman has sore eyes: no more

wrong than I do my beaver when I try it thus. [He rubs it against the fur, then smoothes it.] Look, this is all:

smooth, and keeps fashion still. 

[SIB]

You are one of the basest fellows. 

KNAVESBEE

I look'd for chiding; 

I do make this a kind of fortitude 

The Romans never dreamt of: and 'twere known, 

I should be spoke and writ of when I am rotten, 

For 'tis beyond example. 

[SIB]

But, I pray, resolve me: 

Suppose this done, could you ever love me after? 

KNAVESBEE

I protest I never thought so well of thee 

Till I knew he took a fancy to thee, like one 

That has variety of choice meat before him, 

Yet has no stomach to't until he hear 

Another praise. 

Knock within. 

Hark, my lord is coming. 

[SIB]

Possible! 

KNAVESBEE

And my preferment comes along with him. Be wise, mind your good, and to confute all reason in the world

which thou canst urge against it. When 'tis done, we will be married again, wife, which some say is the only

supersedeas about Limehouse to remove cuckoldry. 

Enter Beaufort. 

BEAUFORT

Come, are you ready to attend me to the court? 

KNAVESBEE

Yes, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Is this fair one your wife? 


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KNAVESBEE

At your lordship's service. I will look up some writings and return presently. 

Exit Knavesbee. 

[SIB]

[Aside] To see and the base fellow do not leave's alone too! 

BEAUFORT

'Tis an excellent habit this. Where were you born, sweet? 

[SIB]

I am a Suffolk woman, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Believe it, every [county] you breathe on is the sweeter for you. Let me see your hand. [Attempting to take

her hand from her glove] The case is loath to part with the jewel! Fairest one, I have skill in palmistry. 

[SIB]

Good my lord, what do you find there? 

BEAUFORT

In good earnest, I do find written here all my good fortune lies in your hand. 

[SIB]

You'll keep a very bad house then; you may see by the smallness of the table. 

BEAUFORT

Who is your sweetheart? 

[SIB]

Sweetheart! 

BEAUFORT

Yes, come, I must sift you to know it. 

[SIB]

I am a sieve too [coarse] for your lordship's manchet. 

BEAUFORT

Nay, pray you tell me, for I see your husband is an unhandsome fellow. 

[SIB]

Oh, my lord, I took him by weight, not fashion. Goldsmiths' wives taught me that way of bargain, and some

ladies swerve not to follow the example. 

BEAUFORT

But will you not tell me who is your private friend? 

[SIB]

Yes, and you'll tell me who is yours. 


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BEAUFORT

Shall I show you her? 

[SIB]

Yes. When will you? 

BEAUFORT

Instantly. [He hands her a mirror.] Look, there you may see her. 

[SIB]

I'll break the glass; 'tis now worth nothing. 

BEAUFORT

Why? 

[SIB]

You have made it a flattering one. 

BEAUFORT

I have a summerhouse for you: a fine place to flatter solitariness. Will you come and lie there? 

[SIB]

No, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Your husband has promis'd me. Will you not? 

[SIB]

I must wink, I tell you, or say nothing. 

BEAUFORT

So, I'll kiss you and wink too. [He kisses her.] Midnight is Cupid's holiday. 

Enter Knavesbee. 

KNAVESBEE

[Aside] By this time 'tis concluded.Will you go, my lord? 

BEAUFORT

[To Sib] I leave with you my best wishes till I see you. 

KNAVESBEE

This now, if I may borrow our lawyer's phrase, is my wife's imparlance; at her next appearance she must

answer your declaration. 

BEAUFORT

You follow it well, sir. 

Exeunt Beaufort and Knavesbee. 


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[SIB]

Did I not know my husband 

Of so base, contemptible nature, I should think 

'Twere but a trick to try me; but it seems 

They are both in wicked earnest, and methinks 

Upon the sudden I have a great mind to loathe 

This scurvy, unhandsome way my lord has ta'en 

To compass me. Why, 'tis for all the world 

As if he should come to steal some apricocks 

My husband kept for's own tooth, and climb up 

Upon his head and shoulders. I'll go to him; 

He will put me into brave clothes and rich jewels: 

'Twere a very ill part in me not to go, 

His mercer and his goldsmith else might curse me. 

And what I'll do here, a' my troth yet I know not. 

Women, though puzzl'd with these subtle deeds, 

May, as i' th' spring, pick physic out of weeds. 

Exit. 

[II.ii. Chamlet's shop]

Enter (a shop being discover'd) Water Chamlet, two prentices George and Ralph. 

GEORGE

What is't you lack, you lack, you lack? 

Stuffs for the belly or the back? 

Silk grogans, satins, velvet fine, 

The rosycolour'd carnadine, 

Your nutmeg hue, or gingerline, 

Cloth of tissue, or [tabine], 

That like beaten gold will shine 

In your amorous ladies' eyne, 

Whilst you their softer silks do twine: 

[Enter Rachel]. 

What is't you lack, you lack, you lack? 

[RACHEL]

I do lack content, sir, content I lack: have you or your worshipful master here any content to sell? 

GEORGE

If content be a stuff to be sold by the yard, you may have content at home and never go abroad for't. 

[RACHEL]

Do, cut me three yards; I'll pay for 'em. 

GEORGE

There's all we have i' th' shop; we must know what you'll give for 'em first. 


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CHAMLET

Why, Rachel, sweet Rachel, my bosom Rachel, 

How didst thou get forth? Thou wert here, sweet Rac, 

Within this hour, even in my very heart! 

[RACHEL]

Away! Or stay still, I'll away from thee; 

One bed shall never hold us both again, 

Nor one roof cover us: didst thou bring home 

GEORGE

What is't you lack, you lack, you lack? 

[RACHEL]

Peace, bandog! 

Bandog, give me leave to speak, or I'll 

GEORGE

Shall I not follow my trade? I'm bound to't, 

And my master bound to bring me up in't. 

CHAMLET

Peace, good George, give her anger leave; 

Thy mistress will be quiet presently. 

[RACHEL]

Quiet? I defy thee and quiet too. 

Quiet thy bastards thou hast brought home! 

GEORGE AND RALPH 

What is't you lack, you lack? Etc. 

[RACHEL]

Death, give me an ell! Has one bawling cur 

Rais'd up another? Two dogs upon me! 

And the old bearward will not succour me, 

I'll stave 'em off myself. Give me an ell, I say! 

GEORGE

Give her not an inch, master; she'll take two ells if you do. 

CHAMLET

Peace, George and Ralph; no more words, I charge you. 

And Rachel, sweet wife, be more temperate. 

I know your tongue speaks not by the rule 

And guidance of your heart, when you proclaim 

The pretty children of my virtuous 

And noble kinswoman, whom in life you knew 

Above my praise's reach, to be my bastards. 

This is not well, although your anger did it; 

Pray, chide your anger for it. 


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Page No 24


[RACHEL]

Sir, sir, your gloss 

Of kinswoman cannot serve turn; 'tis stale 

And smells too rank. Though your shopwares you vent 

With your deceiving lights, yet your chamber stuff 

Shall not pass so with me, I say, and I will prove 

GEORGE

What is't you lack? 

Enter two children [Maria and Edward Cressingham]. 

CHAMLET

Why, George, I say! 

[RACHEL]

Lecher, I say, I'll be divorc'd from thee; 

I'll prove 'em thy bastards, and thou insufficient. 

Exit Rachel. 

MARIA

What said my angry cousin to you, sir? 

That we were bastards? 

EDWARD

I hope she meant not us. 

CHAMLET

No, no, 

My pretty cousin, she meant George and Ralph; 

Rage will speak anything, but they are ne'er the worse. 

GEORGE

Yes, indeed, forsooth, she spoke to us, but chiefly to Ralph, because she knows he has but one stone. 

RALPH

No more of that if you love me, George; this is not the way to keep a quiet house. 

MARIA

Truly, sir, I would not, for more treasure 

Than ever I saw yet, be in your house 

A cause of discord. 

EDWARD

And do you think I would, sister? 

MARIA

No, indeed, Ned. 


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Page No 25


Enter Franklin [disguised as a gentleman] and young Cressingham disguis'd [as his tailor]. 

EDWARD

Why did you not speak for me with you then, 

And said we could not have done so? 

CHAMLET

No more, sweet cousins, now. Speak, George: customers approach. 

CRESSINGHAM

[Aside to Franklin] Is the barber prepar'd? 

FRANKLIN

[Aside to Cressingham] With ignorance enough to go through with it. So near I am to him, we must call

cousins: would thou wert as sure to hit the tailor. 

CRESSINGHAM

[Aside to Franklin] If I do not steal away handsomely, let me never play the tailor again. 

GEORGE

What is't you lack? Etc. 

FRANKLIN

Good satins, sir. 

GEORGE

The best in Europe, sir. Here's a piece worth a piece every yard of him; the King of Naples wears no better

silk. Mark his gloss; he dazzles the eye to look upon him. 

FRANKLIN

Is he not gumm'd? 

GEORGE

Gumm'd! He has neither mouth nor tooth, how can he be gumm'd? 

FRANKLIN

Very pretty! 

CHAMLET

An especial good piece of silk; the worm never spun a finer thread, believe it, sir. 

FRANKLIN

[To Cressingham] Gascoyn, you have some skill in it. 

CHAMLET

Your tailor, sir? 

FRANKLIN

Yes, sir. 

CRESSINGHAM


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Page No 26


A good piece, sir; but let's see more choice. 

RALPH

[Aside to Cressingham] Tailor, drive through; you know your bribes! 

CRESSINGHAM

[Aside to Ralph] Mum: he bestows forty pounds if I say the word. 

RALPH

[Aside to Cressingham] Strike through; there's poundage for you then. 

FRANKLIN

Ay, marry; I like this better. What sayst thou, Gascoyn? 

CRESSINGHAM

A good piece indeed, sir. 

GEORGE

The great Turk has worse satin at's elbow than this, sir. 

FRANKLIN

The price? 

CHAMLET

Look on the mark, George. 

GEORGE

[Aside to Chamlet] O, souse and P, by my facks, sir. 

CHAMLET

The best sort then: sixteen a yard, nothing to be bated. 

FRANKLIN

Fie, sir, fifteen's too high! Yet so. [To Cressingham] How many yards will service for my suit, sirrah? 

CRESSINGHAM

Nine yards; you can have no less, Sir Andrew. 

FRANKLIN

But I can, sir, if you please to steal less; I had but eight in my last suit. 

CRESSINGHAM

You pinch us too near, in faith, Sir Andrew. 

FRANKLIN

Yet can you pinch out a false pair of sleeves to a frizado doublet? 

GEORGE

No, sir, some purses and pinpillows perhaps; a tailor pays for his kissing that ways. 

FRANKLIN


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Page No 27


[To Chamlet] Well, sir, eight yards; eight fifteens I give, and cut it. 

CHAMLET

I cannot, truly, sir. 

GEORGE

My master must be no subsidyman, sir, if he take such fifteens. 

FRANKLIN

I am at highest, sir, if you can take money. 

CHAMLET

Well, sir, I'll give you the buying once; I hope to gain it in your custom. Want you nothing else, sir? 

FRANKLIN

Not at this time, sir. 

CRESSINGHAM

Indeed, but you do, Sir Andrew. I must needs deliver my lady's message to you; she enjoin'd me by oath to do

it: she commanded me to move you for a new gown. 

FRANKLIN

Sirrah, I'll break your head if you motion it again. 

CRESSINGHAM

I must endanger myself for my lady, sir; you know she's to go to my Lady Trenchmore's wedding, and to be

seen there without a new gown! She'll have ne'er an eye to be seen there, for her fingers in 'em. Nay, by my

fack, sir, I do not think she'll go, and then, the cause known, what a discredit 'twill be to you! 

FRANKLIN

Not a word more, goodman snipsnapper, for your ears! What comes this to, sir? 

CHAMLET

Six pound, sir. 

FRANKLIN

[Giving him money] There's your money. [To Cressingham] Will you take this and be gone, and about your

business presently? 

CRESSINGHAM

Troth, sir, I'll see some stuffs for my lady first. I'll tell her at least I did my good will. [To George] A fair

piece of cloth of silver, pray you now. 

GEORGE

Or cloth of gold if you please, sir, as rich as ever the sophy wore. 

FRANKLIN

You are the arrantest villain of a tailor that ever sat crosslegg'd! What do you think a gown of this stuff will

come to? 

CRESSINGHAM


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Why, say it be forty pound, sir: what's that to you? Three thousand a year I hope will maintain it. 

FRANKLIN

It will, sir; very good. You were best be my overseer! Say I be not furnish'd with money, how then? 

CRESSINGHAM

A very fine excuse in you! Which place of ten now will you send me for a hundred pound to bring it

presently? 

CHAMLET

Sir, sir, your tailor persuades you well; 'tis for your credit, and the great content of your lady. 

FRANKLIN

'Tis for your content, sir, and my charges. [To Cressingham] Never think, goodman falsestitch, to come to the

mercers with me again. Pray, will you see if my cousin Sweetball the barber, he's nearest hand, be furnish'd,

and bring me word instantly. 

CRESSINGHAM

I fly, sir. 

Exit Cressingham. 

FRANKLIN

You may fly, sir; you have clipt somebody's wings for it to piece out your own. An arrant thief you are. 

CHAMLET

Indeed, he speaks honestly and justly, sir. 

FRANKLIN

You expect some gain, sir: there's your cause of love. 

CHAMLET

Surely I do a little, sir. 

FRANKLIN

And what might be the price of this? 

CHAMLET

This is thirty a yard; but if you'll go to forty, here's a nonpareil. 

FRANKLIN

So, there's a matter of forty pound for a gown cloth. 

CHAMLET

Thereabouts, sir. Why, sir, there are far short of your means that wear the like. 

FRANKLIN

Do you know my means, sir? 

GEORGE

By overhearing your tailor, sir, three thousand a year; but if you'd have a petticoat for your lady, here's a


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Page No 29


stuff. 

FRANKLIN

Are you another tailor, sirrah? Here's a knave! What are you? 

GEORGE

You are such another gentleman. But for the stuff, sir, 'tis [L. s. and d.]; for the turn stripp'd a' purpose, a yard

and a quarter broad too, which is the just depth of a woman's petticoat. 

FRANKLIN

And why stripp'd for a petticoat? 

GEORGE

Because if they abuse their petticoats, there are abuses stripp'd, then 'tis taking them up, and they may be

stripp'd and whipp'd too. 

FRANKLIN

Very ingenious. 

GEORGE

Then it is likewise stripp'd standing, between which is discover'd the open part, which is now call'd the

placket. 

FRANKLIN

Why, was it ever call'd otherwise? 

GEORGE

Yes; while the word remain'd pure in his original, the Latin tongue, who have no K's, it was call'd the placet,

a placendo, a thing or place to please. 

FRANKLIN

Better and worse still. 

Enter young Cressingham. 

Now, sir, you come in haste; what says my cousin? 

CRESSINGHAM

Protest, sir, he's half angry that either you should think him unfurnish'd, or not furnish'd for your use. There's

a hundred pound ready for you; he desires you to pardon his coming: his folks are busy and his wife trimming

a gentleman, but at your first approach the money wants but telling. 

FRANKLIN

He would not trust you with it. I con him thanks for that: he knows what trade you are of. [To Chamlet] Well,

sir, pray, cut him patterns; he may in the meantime know my lady's liking. Let your man take the pieces

whole with the lowest prices, and walk with me to my cousin's. 

CHAMLET

With all my heart, sir. Ralph, your cloak, and go with the gentleman; look you give good measure. 

CRESSINGHAM


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Look you, carry a good yard with you. 

RALPH

The best i' th' shop, sir, yet we have none bad. You'll have the stuff for the petticoat too? 

FRANKLIN

No, sir, the gown only. 

CRESSINGHAM

By all means, sir. Not the petticoat? That were holiday upon workingday, i'faith. 

FRANKLIN

You are so forward for a knave, sir! 

CRESSINGHAM

'Tis for your credit and my lady's both I do it, sir. 

FRANKLIN

[To Chamlet] Your man is trusty, sir? 

CHAMLET

O sir, we keep none but those we dare trust, sir! [Aside to Ralph] Ralph, have a care of light gold. 

RALPH

[Aside to Chamlet] I warrant you, sir, I'll take none. 

FRANKLIN

Come, sirrah. Fare you well. 

CHAMLET

Pray, know my shop another time, sir. 

FRANKLIN

That I shall, sir, from all the shops i' th' town. 'Tis the Lamb in Lombard Street. 

Exeunt Franklin, Cressingham, Ralph. 

GEORGE

A good morning's work, sir. If this custom would but last long, you might shut up your shop and live

privately. 

CHAMLET

O George, but here's a grief that takes away all the gains and joy of all my thrift! 

GEORGE

What's that, sir? 

CHAMLET

Thy mistress, George; her frowardness sours all my comfort. 

GEORGE


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Alas, sir, they are but squibs and crackers; they'll soon die: you know her flashes of old. 

CHAMLET

But they fly so near me that they burn me, George; they are as ill as muskets charged with bullets. 

GEORGE

She has discharg'd herself now, sir; you need not fear her. 

CHAMLET

No man can [live] without his affliction, George. 

GEORGE

As you cannot without my mistress. 

CHAMLET

Right, right, there's harmony in discords: this lamp of love while any oil is left can never be extinct; it may,

like a snuff, wink and seem to die, but up he will again and show his head. I cannot be quiet, George, without

my wife at home. 

GEORGE

And when she's at home, you're never quiet, I'm sure; a fine life you have on't. Well, sir, I'll do my best to

find her and bring her back if I can. 

CHAMLET

Do, honest George, at Knavesbee's house, that varlet's 

There's her haunt and harbourwho enforces 

A kinsman on her and [she] calls him cousin. 

Restore her, George, to ease this heart that's vex'd; 

The best new suit that e'er thou worest is next. 

GEORGE

I thank you aforehand, sir. 

Exeunt. 

[II.iii. Outside Sweetball's house]

Enter Franklin [and] young Cressingham [disguised] as before, Ralph [carrying the stuffs], [Sweetball the]

Barber, Boy. 

BARBER

Were it of greater moment than you speak of, noble sir, I hope you think me sufficient, and it shall be

effectually performed. 

FRANKLIN

I could wish your wife did not know it, coz. Women's tongues are not always tuneable; I may many ways

requite it. 

BARBER

Believe me, she shall not, sir, which will be the hardest thing of all. 


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FRANKLIN

Pray you, dispatch him then. 

BARBER

With the celerity a man tells gold to him. 

FRANKLIN

[Aside] He hits a good comparison! [To Ralph] Give my wastegood your stuffs and go with my cousin, sir;

he'll presently dispatch you. 

RALPH

Yes, sir. 

BARBER

Come with me, youth; I am ready for you in my more private chamber. 

Exeunt Barber and Ralph. 

FRANKLIN

Sirrah, go you show your lady the stuffs, and let her choose her colour. Away; you know whither. Boy,

prithee lend me a brush i' th' meantime. Do you tarry all day now? 

CRESSINGHAM

That I will, sir, and all night too ere I come again. 

Exit young Cressingham [with the stuffs]. 

BOY

Here's a brush, sir. 

FRANKLIN

A good child! 

BARBER within 

What, Toby! 

BOY

Anon, sir. 

BARBER within 

Why, when, goodman picklock? 

BOY

I must attend my master, sir. I come! 

FRANKLIN

Do, pretty lad. 

Exit Boy. 

So, take water at Cole Harbour. 


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An easy mercer and an innocent barber! 

Exit Franklin [with the brush]. 

[II.iv. A chamber in Sweetball's house]

Enter Barber, Ralph, Boy. 

BARBER

So, friend, I'll now dispatch you presently. Boy, reach me my dismembering instrument and let my

[cauterizer] be ready, and, hark you, snip snap! 

BOY

Ay, sir. 

BARBER

See if my [lixivium], my fomentation be provided first, and get my rollers, bolsters, and pledgets arm'd. 

RALPH

Nay, good sir, dispatch my business first; I should not stay from my shop. 

BARBER

You must have a little patience, sir, when you are a patient; if [praeputium] be not too much perish'd, you

shall lose but little by it, believe my art for that. 

RALPH

What's that, sir? 

BARBER

Marry, if there be exulceration between [praeputium] and glans, by my faith, the whole penis may be

endanger'd as far as os [pubis]. 

RALPH

What's this you talk on, sir? 

BARBER

If they be gangren'd once, testiculi, vesica, and all may run to mortification. 

RALPH

What a pox does this barber talk on? 

BARBER

O fie, youth, pox is no word of art: morbus Gallicus, or Neopolitamus had been well. Come, friend, you must

not be nice; open your griefs freely to me. 

RALPH

Why, sir, I open my grief to you: I want my money. 

BARBER

Take you no care for that: your worthy cousin has given me part in hand, and the rest I know he will upon

your recovery, and I dare take his word. 


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RALPH

'Sdeath, where's my ware? 

BARBER

Ware! That was well: the word is cleanly, though not artful. Your ware is that I must see. 

RALPH

My [tabine] and cloth of tissue! 

BARBER

You will neither have tissue nor issue if you linger in your malady; better a member cut off than endanger the

whole microcosm. 

RALPH

Barber, you are not mad? 

BARBER

I do begin to fear you are subject to subeth, unkindly sleeps, which have bred oppilations in your brain. Take

heed, the symptoma will follow, and this may come to frenzy: begin with the first cause, which is the pain of

your member. 

RALPH

Do you see my yard, barber? 

BARBER

Now you come to the purpose; 'tis that I must see indeed. 

RALPH

You shall feel it, sir. Death, give me my fifty pounds or my ware again, or I'll measure out your anatomy by

the yard! 

BARBER

Boy, my cauterizing iron redhot! 

Exit Boy [and reenter with iron]. 

BOY

'Tis here, sir. 

BARBER

If you go further, I take my dismembering knife. 

RALPH

Where's the knight, your cousin? The thief! And the tailor with my cloth of gold and tissue? 

BOY

The gentleman that sent away his man with the stuffs is gone a pretty while since; he has carried away our

new brush. 

BARBER


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O, that brush hurts my heart's side! Cheated! Cheated! He told me that your virga had a burningfever. 

RALPH

A pox on your virga, barber! 

BARBER

And that you would be bashful and asham'd to show your head. 

RALPH

I shall so hereafter, but here it is; you see yet my head, my hair, and my wit, and here are my heels that I must

show to my master if the cheaters be not found. And barber, provide thee plasters: I will break thy head with

every basin under the pole! 

Exit Ralph. 

BARBER

Cool the [lixivium] and quench the cauterizer; 

I am partly out of my wits and partly mad. 

My razor's at my heart: these storms will make 

My sweetballs stink, my harmless basins shake. 

Exeunt. 

III.[i. Lord Beaufort's house]

Enter [Mistress George Cressingham disguised as] Selenger, [Sib]. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

You're welcome, mistress, as I may speak it, 

But my lord will give it a sweeter emphasis. 

I'll give him knowledge of you. 

Exiturus. 

[SIB]

Good sir, stay. 

Methinks it sounds sweetest upon your tongue: 

I'll wish you to go no further for my welcome. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

Mine! It seems you never heard good music 

That commend a bagpipe. Hear his harmony. 

[SIB]

Nay, good now, let me borrow of your patience; 

I'll pay you again before I rise tomorrow. 

If it please you 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]


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What would you, forsooth? 

[SIB]

Your company, sir. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

My attendance you should have, mistress, but that my lord expects it, and 'tis his due. 

[SIB]

And must be paid upon the hour? That's too strict; any time of the day will serve. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

Alas, 'tis due every minute, and paid, 'tis due again, or else I forfeit my recognisance, the cloth I wear of his. 

[SIB]

Come, come, pay it double at another time, and 'twill be quitted; I have a little use of you. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

Of me, forsooth! Small use can be made of me: if you have suit to my lord, none can speak better for you

than you may yourself. 

[SIB]

Oh, but I am bashful. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

So am I, in troth, mistress. 

[SIB]

Now I remember me: I have a toy to deliver your lord that's yet unfinish'd, and you may further me. Pray you,

your hands, while I unwind this skein of gold from you; 'twill not detain you long. 

[She unwinds the skein around her wrists.] 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

You wind me into your service prettily; with all the haste you can, I beseech you. 

[SIB]

If it tangle not, I shall soon have done. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

No, it shall not tangle if I can help it, forsooth. 

[SIB]

If it do, I can help it. Fear not this thing of long length; you shall see I can bring you to a bottom. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

I think so too: if it be not bottomless, this length will reach it. 

[SIB]

It becomes you finely, but I forewarn you, and remember it, your enemy gain not this advantage of you: you

are his prisoner then, for look you, you are mine now, my captive manacled; I have your hands in bondage. 


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Grasps the skein between [her] hands. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

'Tis a good lesson, mistress, and I am perfect in it; another time I'll take out this, and learn another. Pray you,

release me now. 

[SIB]

I could kiss you now, spite of your teeth, if it please me. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

But you could not, for I could bite you with the spite of my teeth, if it pleases me. 

[SIB]

Well, I'll not tempt you so far; I show it but for rudiment. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

When I go awooing, I'll think on't again. 

[SIB]

In such an hour I learnt it. Say I should, 

In recompense of your hands' courtesy, 

Make you a fine wristfavour of this gold, 

With all the letters of your name emboss'd 

On a soft tress of hair, which I shall cut 

From mine own fillet, whose ends should meet and close 

In a fast truelove knot: would you wear it 

For my sake, sir? 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

I think not, truly, mistress: 

My wrists have enough of this gold already; 

Would they were rid on't. Yet, pray you, have done; 

In troth, I'm weary. 

[SIB]

And what a virtue 

Is here express'd in you, which had lain hid 

But for this trial. Weary of gold, sir? 

Oh, that the close engrossers of this treasure 

Could be so free to put it off of hand, 

What a newmended world would here be! 

It shows a generous condition in you; 

In sooth, I think I shall love you dearly for't. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

But if they were in prison, as I am, 

They would be glad to buy their freedom with it. 

[SIB]

Surely no: there are that, rather than release 


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This dear companion, do lie in prison with it; 

Yes, and will die in prison too. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

'Twere pity but the hangman did enfranchise both. 

Enter Beaufort. 

BEAUFORT

Selenger, where are you? 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

E'en here, my lord. Mistress, pray you, my liberty; you hinder my duty to my lord. 

Beaufort puts off his hat. 

BEAUFORT

Nay, sir, one courtesy shall serve us both at this time. You're busy, I perceive; when your leisure next serves

you, I would employ you. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

You must pardon me, my lord; you see I am entangled here. Mistress, I protest I'll break prison if you free me

not; take you no notice? 

[SIB]

Oh, cry your honour mercy! You are now at liberty, sir. 

[She takes the skein off her wrists.] 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

[Aside] And I'm glad on't; I'll ne'er give both my hands at once again to a woman's command; I'll put one

finger in a hole rather. 

BEAUFORT

Leave us. 

[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]

Free leave have you, my lord. [Aside] So I think you may have: filthy beauty, what a white witch thou art! 

Exit [Mistress Cressingham]. 

BEAUFORT

Lady, y'are welcome. 

[SIB]

I did believe it from your page, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Your husband sent you to me. 

[SIB]


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He did, my lord, 

With duty and commends unto your honour, 

Beseeching you to use me very kindly, 

By the same token your lordship gave him grant 

Of a new lease of threescore pound a year, 

Which he and his should forty years enjoy. 

BEAUFORT

The token's true, and for your sake, lady 

'Tis likely to be better'd, not alone the lease, 

But the feesimple may be his and yours. 

[SIB]

I have a suit unto your lordship too 

Only myself concerns. 

BEAUFORT

'Twill be granted, sure, 

Tho' it outvalue thy husband's. 

[SIB]

Nay, 'tis small charge: 

Only your good will and good word, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

The first is thine confirm'd; the second then 

Cannot stay long behind. 

[SIB]

I love your page, sir. 

BEAUFORT

Love him! For what? 

[SIB]

Oh, the great wisdoms that 

Our grandsires had! Do you ask me reason for't? 

I love him because I like him, sir. 

BEAUFORT

My page! 

[SIB]

In mine eye he's a most delicate youth, 

But in my heart a thing that it would bleed for. 

BEAUFORT

Either your eye is blinded or your remembrance broken: 

Call to mind wherefore you came hither, lady. 

[SIB]


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I do, my lord: for love, and I am in profoundly. 

BEAUFORT

You trifle, sure. Do you long for unripe fruit? 

'Twill breed diseases in you. 

[SIB]

Nothing but worms 

In my belly, and there's a seed to expel them; 

In mellow, falling fruit I find no relish. 

BEAUFORT

'Tis true, the youngest vines yield the most clusters, 

But the old ever the sweetest grapes. 

[SIB]

I can taste of both, sir, 

But with the old I am the soonest cloy'd: 

The green keep still an edge on appetite. 

BEAUFORT

Sure you are a common creature. 

[SIB]

Did you doubt it? 

Wherefore came I hither else? Did you think 

That honesty only had been immur'd for you, 

And I should bring it as an offertory 

Unto your shrine of lust? As it was, my lord, 

'Twas meant to you, had not the slippery wheel 

Of fancy turn'd when I beheld your page. 

Nay, had I seen another before him 

In mine eyes better [graced], he had been forestall'd. 

But as it isall my strength cannot help 

Beseech you, your good will and good word, my lord; 

You may command him, sir, if not affection, 

Yet his body, and I desire but that; do't 

And I'll command myself your prostitute. 

BEAUFORT

Y'are a base strumpet! I succeed my page? 

[SIB]

Oh, that's no wonder, my lord; the servant oft 

Tastes to his master of the daintiest dish 

He brings to him. Beseech you, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Y'are a bold mischief. And to make me your spokesman, 

Your procurer to my servant! 


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[SIB]

Do you shrink at that? 

Why, you have done worse without the sense of ill 

With a full free conscience of a libertine. 

Judge your own sin: 

Was it not worse with a damn'd brokingfee 

To corrupt [a] husband, state him a pander 

To his own wife, by virtue of a lease 

Made to him and your bastard issue, could you get 'em? 

What a degree of baseness call you this? 

'Tis a poor sheepsteal[er] provok'd by want 

Compar'd unto a capital traitor; the master 

To his servant may be recompens'd, but the husband 

To his wife never. 

BEAUFORT

Your husband shall smart for this! 

Exit Beaufort. 

[SIB]

Hang him, do; you have brought him to deserve it: 

Bring him to the punishment; there I'll join with you. 

I loathe him to the gallows! Hang your page too; 

One mourning gown shall serve for both of them. 

This trick hath kept mine honesty secure; 

Best soldiers use policy: the lion's skin 

Becomes not the body when 'tis too great, 

But then the fox's may sit close and neat. 

Exit. 

[III.ii. A street outside a tavern]

Enter Fleshhook, Counterbuff, and Sweetball the Barber. 

BARBER

Now, Fleshhook, use thy talon, set upon his right shoulder; thy sergeant Counterbuff at the left, grasp in his

jugulars; and then let me alone to tickle his diaphragma. 

FLESHHOOK

You are sure he has no protection, sir? 

BARBER

A protection to cheat and cozen! There was never any granted to that purpose. 

FLESHHOOK

I grant you that too, sir, but that use has been made of 'em. 

COUNTERBUFF

Marry, has there, sir. How could else so many broken bankrupts play up and down by their creditors' noses,


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and we dare not touch 'em? 

BARBER

That's another case, Counterbuff; there's privilege to cozen: but here cozenage went before, and there's no

privilege for that. To him boldly! I will spend all the scissors in my shop, but I'll have him snapp'd. 

COUNTERBUFF

Well, sir, if he come within the length of large mace once, we'll teach him to cozen. 

BARBER

Marry, hang him, teach him no more cozenage; he's too perfect in't already. Go gingerly about it, lay your

mace on gingerly, and spice him soundly. 

COUNTERBUFF

He's at the tavern, you say? 

BARBER

At the Man in the Moon, above stairs. So soon as he comes down, and the bush left at his back, Ralph is the

dog behind him: he watches to give us notice; be ready then, my dear bloodhounds. You shall deliver him to

Newgate, from thence to the hangman; his body I will beg of the sheriffs, for at the next lecture I am likely to

be the master of my anatomy. Then will I vex every vein about him; I will find where his disease of cozenage

lay, whether in the vertebrae, or in [os coxendix]: but I guess I shall find it descend from humore, through the

[thorax], and lie just at his fingers' ends. 

Enter Ralph. 

RALPH

Be in readiness, for he's coming this way, alone too. Stand to't like gentleman and yeoman: so soon as he is in

sight, I'll go fetch my master. 

BARBER

I have had a [conquassation] in my cerebrum ever since the disaster, and now it takes me again: if it turn to a

[megrim], I shall hardly abide the sight of him. 

RALPH

My action of defamation shall be clapp'd on him too; I will make him appear to't in the shape of a white sheet

all embroidered over with peccavis. 

Enter Franklin. 

Look about; I'll go fetch my master. 

[Exit Ralph.] 

COUNTERBUFF

I arrest you, sir. 

[Counterbuff and Fleshhook grab Franklin.] 

FRANKLIN

Ha! Qui va là? Que pensezvous faire, messieurs? Me voulezvous dérober? Je n'ai point d'argent: je suis un


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pauvre gentilhomme français. 

BARBER

Whoop! Pray you, sir, speak English. You did when you bought cloth of gold at six nihils a yard, when

Ralph's praeputium was exulcerated. 

FRANKLIN

Que voulezvous? Me voulezvous tuer? Le[s] Français ne sont point ennemis. [Giving them his purse]

Voilà ma bourse; que voulezvous d'avantage? 

COUNTERBUFF

Is not your name Franklin, sir? 

FRANKLIN

Je n'ai point de joyaux que cestuici, et c'est à monsieur l'ambassadeur. Il m'envoie à [ses] affaires, et vous

empêchez mon service. 

COUNTERBUFF

Sir, we are mistaken, for aught I perceive. 

Enter Chamlet and Ralph hastily. 

CHAMLET

So, so, you have caught him; that's well. How do you, sir? 

FRANKLIN

Vous semblez être un homme courtois; je vous prie entendez mes affaires: il y a ici deux ou [trois] canailles

qui m'ont [assiégé], un pauvre étranger qui ne leur ai fait nul mal, ni donné mauvaise parole, ni tiré mon épée.

L'un me prend par une épaule, et me frappe deux livre pesant; l'autre me tire par le bras, il parle je ne sais

quoi. Je leur ai donné ma bourse, et [s'ils] ne me veulent point laisser aller; que feraije monsieur? 

CHAMLET

This is a Frenchman it seems, sirs. 

COUNTERBUFF

We can find no other in him, sir, and what that is we know not. 

CHAMLET

He's very like the man we seek for, else my lights go false. 

BARBER

In your shop they may, sir, but here they go true: this is he. 

RALPH

The very same, sir, as sure as I am Ralph: this is the rascal. 

COUNTERBUFF

Sir, unless you will absolutely challenge him the man, we dare not proceed further. 

FLESHHOOK

I fear we are too far already. 


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CHAMLET

I know not what to say to't. 

Enter Margarita, a French bawd. 

MARGARITA

Bon jour, bon jour, gentilhommes. 

BARBER

How now! More news from France? 

FRANKLIN

Cette femme ici est de mon pays. Madame, je vous prie leur dire mon pays; il m'ont [retardé], je ne sais

pourquoi. 

MARGARITA

Etesvous de France, monsieur? 

FRANKLIN

Madame, [vrai] est que je les ai trompés, et suis arrête, et n'ai nul moyen d'échapper [qu'en changeant] mon

langage. Aidezmoi en cette affaire. Je vous connois bien, où vous tenez un bordeau; vous et les votres en

serez de mieux. 

MARGARITA

Laissez faire à moi. Etesvous de Lyons, ditesvous? 

FRANKLIN

De Lyons, ma chère dame. 

Embrace and complement. 

MARGARITA

[Mon] cousin! Je suis bien aise de vous voir en bonne disposition. 

FRANKLIN

[Ma] cousine! 

CHAMLET

This is a Frenchman, sure. 

BARBER

If he be, 'tis the likest an Englishman that ever I saw; all his dimensions, proportions! Had I but the dissecting

of his heart, in capsula cordis could I find it now, for a Frenchman's heart is more [quassative] and subject to

tremor than an Englishman's. 

CHAMLET

Stay, we'll further enquire of this gentlewoman. Mistress, if you have so much English to help us with, as I

think you have, for I have long seen you about London, pray, tell us, and truly tell us, is this gentleman a

natural Frenchman or no? 


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MARGARITA

Ey, begar, de Frenchman, born à Lyons, my cozin. 

CHAMLET

Your cousin? If he be not your cousin, he's my cousin, sure! 

MARGARITA

Ey conosh his père, what you call his fadre? He sell poissons. 

BARBER

Sell poisons? His father was a 'pothecary then. 

MARGARITA

No, no, poissons, what you call fish, fish. 

BARBER

Oh, he was a fishmonger. 

MARGARITA

Oui, oui. 

CHAMLET

Well, well, we are mistaken, I see; pray you, so tell him, and request him not to be offended. An honest man

may look like a knave, and be ne'er the worse for't. The error was in our eyes, and now we find it in his

tongue. 

MARGARITA

J'essayerai encore une fois, monsieur cousin, pour votre sauveté. Allezvous en; votre liberté est suffisante.

Je gagnerai le reste pour mon devoir, et vous aurez votre part à mon école. J'ai une fille qui parle un peu

Français; elle conversera avec vous à la FleurdeLis en Turnbull Street. Mon cousin, ayez soin de

vousmême, et trompez ces ignorans. 

FRANKLIN

Cousine, pour l'amour de vous, et principalement pour moi, je suis content de m'en aller. Je trouverai votre

école, et si vos écoliers me sont agréables, je tirerai à l'épée seule, et si d'aventure je la rompe, je payerai dix

sous. Et pour ce vieux fol, [et ces] deux canailles, ce poulain Snipsnap, et l'autre bonnet rond, je les verrai

pendre premier que je les vois. 

CHAMLET

So, so, she has got him off; but I perceive much anger in his countenance still. And what says he, madam? 

MARGARITA

Moosh, moosh anger, but ey conosh heer lodging shall cool him very well. Dere is a kinswomans can moosh

allay heer heat and heer spleen; she shall do for my saka, and he no trobla you. 

CHAMLET

[Giving her money] Look, there is earnest, but thy reward's behind. Come to my shop, the Holy Lamb in

Lombard Street; thou hast one friend more than e'er thou hadst. 

MARGARITA

Tank u, monsieur; shall visit u. Ey make all pacifie; à votre service très [humblement], tree, four, five fool of


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u. 

Exit Margarita. 

CHAMLET

What's to be done now? 

COUNTERBUFF

To pay us for our pains, sir, and better reward us, that we may be provided against further danger that may

come upon's for false imprisonment. 

CHAMLET

All goes false, I think. What do you, neighbour Sweetball? 

BARBER

I must phlebotomise, sir, but my almanac says the sign is in Taurus. I dare not cut my own throat, but if I find

any [precedent] that ever barber hang'd himself, I'll be the second example. 

RALPH

This was your ill [lixivium], barber, to cause all to be cheated. 

COUNTERBUFF

What say you to us, sir? 

CHAMLET

Good friends, come to me at a calmer hour; 

My sorrows lie in heaps upon me now. 

What you have, keep; if further trouble follow, 

I'll take it on me: I would be press'd to death. 

COUNTERBUFF

Well, sir, for this time we'll leave you. 

BARBER

I will go with you, officers; I will walk with you in the open street though it be a scandal to me, for now I

have no care of my credit. A cacokenny is run all over me. 

Exeunt [Barber, Fleshhook, Counterbuff]. Enter George. 

CHAMLET

What shall we do now, Ralph? 

RALPH

Faith, I know not, sir. Here comes George; it may be he can tell you. 

CHAMLET

And there I look for more disaster still; 

Yet George appears in a smiling countenance. 

Ralph, home to the shop; leave George and I together. 

RALPH


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I am gone, sir. 

Exit Ralph. 

CHAMLET

Now, George, what better news eastward? All goes ill the tother way. 

GEORGE

I bring you the best news that ever came about your ears in your life, sir. 

CHAMLET

Thou putst me in good comfort, George. 

GEORGE

My mistress, you wife, will never trouble you more. 

CHAMLET

Ha? Never trouble me more? Of this, George, may be made a sad construction; that phrase we sometimes use

when death makes the separation. I hope it is not so with her, George? 

GEORGE

No, sir, but she vows she'll never come home again to you, so you shall live quietly, and this I took to be very

good news, sir. 

CHAMLET

The worst that could be, this [candied] poison. 

I love her, George, and I am bound to do so. 

The tongue's bitterness must not separate 

United souls: 'twere base and cowardly 

For all to yield to the small tongue's assault; 

The whole building must not be taken down 

For the repairing of a broken window. 

GEORGE

Ay, but this is a principal, sir. The truth is, she will be divorc'd, she says, and is labouring with her cousin

Knave What do you call him? I have forgotten the latter end of his name. 

CHAMLET

Knavesbee, George. 

GEORGE

Ay, Knave or Knavesbee; one I took it to be. 

CHAMLET

Why, neither rage nor envy can make a cause, George. 

GEORGE

Yes, sir, not only at your person, but she shoots at your shop too; she says you vent ware that is not

warrantable, braided ware, and that you give not London measure. Women, you know, look for more than a

bare yard. And then you keep children in the name of your own, which she suspects came not in at the right

door. 


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CHAMLET

She may as well suspect immaculate truth 

To be cursed falsehood. 

GEORGE

Ay, but if she will, she will: she's a woman, sir. 

CHAMLET

'Tis most true, George. Well, that shall be redress'd: 

My cousin Cressingham must yield me pardon; 

The children shall home again, and thou shalt conduct 'em, George. 

GEORGE

That done, I'll be bold to venter once more for her recovery, since you cannot live at liberty; but because you

are a rich citizen, you will have your chain about your neck. I think I have a device will bring you together by

th' ears again, and then look to 'em as well as you can. 

CHAMLET

Oh George, amongst all my heavy troubles, this 

Is the groaning weight! But restore my wife. 

GEORGE

Although you ne'er lead hour of quiet life? 

CHAMLET

I will endeavour 't, George. I'll lend her will 

A power and rule to keep all hush'd and still. 

Eat we all sweetmeats, we are soonest rotten. 

GEORGE

A sentence! Pity 't should have been forgotten. 

Exeunt. 

IV.[i. Sir Francis's house]

Enter Sir Francis Cressingham and a Surveyor [at different doors]. 

SURVEYOR

Where's master steward? 

SIR FRANCIS

Within. What are you, sir? 

SURVEYOR

A surveyor, sir. 

SIR FRANCIS


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And an almanacmaker, I take it. Can you tell me what foul weather is toward? 

SURVEYOR

Marry, the foulest weather is, that your land is flying away. 

Exit Surveyor. 

SIR FRANCIS

A most terrible prognostication! All the resort, all the business to my house is to my lady and master steward,

whilst Sir Francis stands for a cipher. I have made away myself and my power as if I had done it by deed of

gift. Here comes the comptroller of the game. 

Enter Saunder. 

SAUNDER

What, are you yet resolved to translate this unnecessary land into ready money? 

SIR FRANCIS

Translate it? 

SAUNDER

The conveyances are drawn and the money ready. My lady sent me to you to know directly if you meant to

go through in the sale; if not, she resolves of another course. 

SIR FRANCIS

Thou speakest this cheerfully, methinks, whereas faithful servants were wont to mourn when they beheld the

lord that fed and cherish'd them, [as] by curst enchantments remov'd into another blood. Cressingham of

Cressingham has continued for many years, and must the name sink now? 

SAUNDER

All this is nothing to my lady's resolution; it must be done or she'll not stay in England. She would know

whether your son be sent for that must likewise set his hand to th' sale; for otherwise the lawyers say there

cannot be a sure conveyance made to the buyer. 

SIR FRANCIS

Yes, I have sent for him; but I pray thee, think what a hard task 'twill be for a father to persuade his son and

heir to make away his inheritance. 

SAUNDER

Nay, for that use your own logic: I have heard you talk at the sessions terribly against deerstealers, and that

kept you from being put out of the commission. 

Exit Saunder. Enter young Cressingham. 

SIR FRANCIS

I do live to see two miseries, one to be commanded by my wife, the other to be censured by my slave. 

CRESSINGHAM

[Kneeling] That which I have wanted long, and has been cause of my irregular courses, I beseech you let

raise me from the ground. 


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SIR FRANCIS

[Raising him and giving him money] Rise, George: there's a hundred pounds for you, and my blessing; with

these, your mother's favour. But I [hear] your studies are become too licentious of late. 

CRESSINGHAM

[Aside] H'as heard of my cozenage. 

SIR FRANCIS

What's that you're writing? 

CRESSINGHAM

Sir, not anything. 

SIR FRANCIS

Come, I hear there's something coming forth of yours will be your undoing. 

CRESSINGHAM

Of mine? 

SIR FRANCIS

Yes, of your writing; somewhat you should write will be dangerous to you. I have a suit to you. 

CRESSINGHAM

Sir, my obedience makes you commander in all things. 

SIR FRANCIS

I pray, suppose I had committed some fault, 

For which my life and sole estate were forfeit 

To the law, and that some great man near the king 

Should labour to get my pardon, on condition 

He might enjoy my lordship: could you prize 

Your father's life above the grievous loss 

Of your inheritance? 

CRESSINGHAM

Yes, and my own life 

At stake too. 

SIR FRANCIS

You promise fair; I come now 

To make trial of it. You know I have married 

One whom I hold so dear that my whole life 

Is nothing but a mere estate depending 

Upon her will and her affections to me. 

She deserves so well, I cannot longer merit 

Than durante [beneplacito]: 'tis her pleasure, 

And her wisdom moves in't too, of which I'll give you 

Ample satisfaction hereafter, that I sell 

The land my father left me. You change colour! 

I have promis'd her to do't, and should I fail, 

I must expect the remainder of my life 


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As full of trouble and vexation 

As the suit for a divorce; it lies in you 

By setting of your hand unto the sale 

To add length to his life that gave you yours. 

CRESSINGHAM

Sir, I do now ingeniously perceive 

Why you said lately somewhat I should write 

Would be my undoing, meaning, as I take it, 

Setting my hand to this assurance. Oh, good sir, 

Shall I pass away my birthright? Oh, remember 

There is a malediction denounc'd against it 

In holy writ! Will you, for her pleasure, 

The inheritance of desolation leave 

To your posterity? Think how compassionate 

The creatures of the field, that only live 

On the wild benefits of nature, are 

Unto their young ones; think likewise you may 

Have more children by this woman, and by this act 

You undo them too. 'Tis a strange [precedent] this, 

To see an obedient son labouring good counsel 

To the father! But know, sir, that the spirits 

Of my greatgrandfather and your father move 

At this present in me, and what they bequeath'd you 

On [their] deathbed they charge you not to give away 

In the dalliance of a woman's bed. Good sir, 

Let it not be thought presumption in me 

That I have continued my speech unto this length: 

The cause, sir, is urgent and, believe it, you 

Shall find her beauty as malevolent unto you 

As a red morning that doth still foretell 

A foul day to follow. Oh, sir, keep your land! 

Keep that to keep your name immortal, and you shall see 

All that her malice and proud will procures, 

Shall show her ugly heart, but hurt not yours. 

SIR FRANCIS

Oh, I am distracted, and my very soul 

Sends blushes into my cheeks. 

Enter George with the two children [Maria and Edward]. 

CRESSINGHAM

See here an object 

To beget more compassion. 

GEORGE

O Sir Francis, we have a most lamentable house at home! Nothing to be heard in't but separation and

divorces, and such a noise of the spiritual court as if it were a tenement upon London Bridge and built upon

the arches. 


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SIR FRANCIS

What's the matter? 

GEORGE

All about boarding your children: my mistress is departed. 

SIR FRANCIS

Dead? 

GEORGE

In a sort she is, and laid out too, for she is run away from my master. 

SIR FRANCIS

Whither? 

GEORGE

Seven miles off, into Essex: she vow'd never to leave Barking while she liv'd till these were brought home

again. 

SIR FRANCIS

Oh, they shall not offend her. I am sorry for't. 

[MARIA] 

I am glad we are come home, sir, for we liv'd in the unquietest house! 

[EDWARD] 

The angry woman methought grutch'd us our victuals: our new mother is a good soul, and loves us, and does

not frown so like a vixen as she does. 

[MARIA] 

I am at home now, and in heaven methinks: what a comfort 'tis to be under your wing! 

[EDWARD] 

Indeed, my mother was wont to call me your nestlecock, and I love you as well as she did. 

SIR FRANCIS

You are my pretty souls. 

CRESSINGHAM

Does not the prattle of these move you? 

Enter Saunder, Knavesbee, and Surveyor. 

SAUNDER

Look you, sir, here's the conveyance and my lady's solicitor: pray, resolve what to do; my lady is coming

down. How now, George? How does thy mistress that sits in a wainscot gown, like a citizen's lure to draw in

customers? Oh, she's a pretty mousetrap! 

GEORGE

She's illbaited though to take a Welshman; she cannot away with cheese. 


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SIR FRANCIS

And what must I do now? 

KNAVESBEE

Acknowledge a fine and recovery of the land; then for possession the course is common. 

SIR FRANCIS

Carry back the writings, sir; my mind in chang'd. 

SAUNDER

Chang'd! Do not you mean to seal? 

Enter Lady Cressingham. 

SIR FRANCIS

No, sir, the tide's turn'd. 

SAUNDER

[Aside] You must temper him like wax or he'll not seal. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Are you come back again? How now, have you done? 

[MARIA] 

How do you, lady mother? 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

You are good children. Bid my woman give them some sweetmeats. 

[MARIA] 

Indeed, I thank you. Is not this a kind mother? 

CRESSINGHAM

Poor fools, you know not how dear you shall pay for this sugar. 

[Exeunt George, Maria and Edward.] 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

What, ha'n't you dispatch'd? 

SIR FRANCIS

No, sweetest, I am dissuaded by my son 

From the sale o' th' land. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Dissuaded by your son! 

SIR FRANCIS

I cannot get his hand to't. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM


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Where's our steward? 

Cause presently that all my beds and hangings 

Be taken down; provide carts, pack them up: 

I'll to my house i' th' country. Have I studied 

The way to your preferment and your children's, 

And do you cool i' th' upshot? 

CRESSINGHAM

With your pardon, 

I cannot understand this course a way 

To any preferment, rather a direct path 

To our ruin. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Oh sir, you are youngsighted! 

Show them the project of the land I mean 

To buy in Ireland, that shall outvalue yours 

Three thousand in a year. 

[Knavesbee shows them a] map. 

KNAVESBEE

Look you, sir: here is Clangibbon, a fruitful country, and wellwooded. 

SIR FRANCIS

What's this? Marshground? 

KNAVESBEE

No, these are bogs, but a little cost will drain them. This upper part that runs by the black water is the

[Cussacks'] land, a spacious country, and yields excellent profit by the salmon and fishing for herring. Here

runs the Kernesdale, admirable feed for cattle, and hereabout is St. Patrick's Purgatory. 

CRESSINGHAM

Purgatory! Shall we purchase that too? 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Come, come, will you dispatch th' other business? 

We may go through with this? 

SIR FRANCIS

My son's unwilling. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Upon my soul, sir, I'll never bed with you 

Till you have seal'd. 

SIR FRANCIS

Thou hear'st her: on thy blessing 

Follow me to th' court and seal. 

CRESSINGHAM


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Sir, were it my death, 

Wer't to th' loss of my estate, I vow 

To obey you in all things; yet with it remember 

There are two young ones living that may curse you. 

I pray, dispose part of the money on their 

Generous educations. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Fear [not] you, sir. 

The carouche there! When you have dispatch'd 

You shall find me at the scrivener's, where I shall 

Receive the money. 

CRESSINGHAM

She'll devour that mass too. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

How likest thou my power over him? 

SAUNDER

Excellent. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

This is the height of a great lady's sway, 

When her nightservice makes her rule i' th' day. 

Exeunt. 

[IV.ii. Before Knavesbee's house]

[Enter] Knavesbee. 

KNAVESBEE

Not yet, Sib? My lord keeps thee so long, th'art welcome, I see, then. And pays sweetly too: a good wench,

Sib, th'art, to obey thy husband. 

[Enter Sib.] 

She's come: a hundred mark a year, how fine and easy it comes into mine arms now! Welcome home; what

says my lord, Sib? 

[SIB]

My lord says you are a cuckold. 

KNAVESBEE

Ha, ha, ha, ha, I thank him for that bob, i'faith! I'll afford it him again at the same price a month hence, and let

the commodity grow as scarce as it will. Cuckold, says his lordship! Ha, ha, I shall burst my sides with

laughing, that's the worst! Name not a hundred [a] year, for then I burst! It smarts not so much as a fillip on

the forehead by five parts: what has his dalliance taken from thy lips? 'Tis as sweet as [e'er] 'twas; let me try

else: buss me, sugarcandy. 


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[SIB]

Forbear; you presume to a lord's pleasure! 

KNAVESBEE

How's that? Not I, Sib. 

[SIB]

Never touch me more; 

I'll keep the noble stamp upon my lip, 

No under baseness shall deface it now. 

You taught me the way; now I am in, I'll keep it. 

I have kiss'd ambition, and I love it; 

I loathe the memory of every touch 

My lip hath tasted from thee! 

KNAVESBEE

Nay, but sweet Sib, 

You do forget yourself. 

[SIB]

I will forget 

All that I ever was, and nourish new [thoughts]: 

Sirrah, I am a lady. 

KNAVESBEE

Lord bless us, madam! 

[SIB]

I have enjoy'd a lord, that's real possession, 

And daily shall, the which all ladies have 

Not with their lords. 

KNAVESBEE

But with your patience, madam, 

Who was it that prefer'd you to this ladyship? 

[SIB]

'Tis all I am beholding to thee for: 

Th'ast brought me out of ignorance into light. 

Simple as I was, I thought thee a man 

Till I found the difference by a man: thou art 

A beast, a horned beast, an ox! 

KNAVESBEE

Are these 

Ladies' terms? 

[SIB]

For thy pander's fee, 

It shall be laid under the candlestick; 

Look for't, I'll leave it for thee. 


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KNAVESBEE

A little lower, 

Good your ladyship: my cousin Chamlet 

Is in the house; let these things go no further. 

[SIB]

'Tis for mine own credit if I forebear, 

Not thine, thou buglebrow'd beast, thou! 

Enter George with rolls of paper. 

GEORGE

Bidden, bidden, bidden, bidden! So, all these are past; but here's as large a walk to come. If I do not get it up

at the feast, I shall be leaner for bidding the guests, I'm sure. 

KNAVESBEE

How now! Who's this? 

GEORGE

[Reading] "Doctor Glister et" What word's this? Fuxor? Oh, uxor! "The doctor and his wife. Master Body

et uxor of Bow Lane. Master Knavesbee et uxor." 

KNAVESBEE

Ha, we are in, whatsoever the matter is. 

GEORGE

Here's forty couple more in this quarter, but there, the provision bringing in, that puzzles me most. One ox:

that will hardly serve for beef too. Five muttons, ten lambs: poor innocents, they'll be devoured too. Three

gross of capons 

KNAVESBEE

Mercy upon us! What a slaughterhouse is here! 

GEORGE

Two bushels of small birds, plovers, snipes, W.s, partridge, larks. Then for bak'd meats 

KNAVESBEE

George, George, what feast is this? 'Tis not for St. George's Day? 

GEORGE

Cry you mercy, sir, you and your wife are in my roll: my master invites you his guests tomorrow dinner. 

KNAVESBEE

Dinner say'st thou? He means to feast a month sure. 

GEORGE

Nay, sir, you make up but a hundred couple. 

KNAVESBEE

Why, what ship has brought an India home to him that he's so bountiful? Or what friend dead, unknown to us,


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has so much left to him of arable land, that he means to turn to pasture thus? 

GEORGE

Nay, 'tis a vessel, sir; a good estate comes all in one bottom to him, and 'tis a question whether ever he find

the bottom or no: a thousand a year, that's the uppermost. 

KNAVESBEE

A thousand a year! 

GEORGE

To go no further about the bush, sir, now the bird is caught: my master is tomorrow to be married, and

amongst the rest invites you a guest at his wedding dinner the second. 

KNAVESBEE

Married! 

GEORGE

There is no other remedy for flesh and blood: that will have leave to play whether we will or no, or wander

into forbidden pastures. 

KNAVESBEE

Married! Why, he is married, man! His wife is in my house now; thy mistress is alive, George! 

GEORGE

That she was, it may be, sir, but dead to him. She play'd a little too rough with him, and he has discarded her;

he's divorc'd, sir. 

KNAVESBEE

He divorc'd! Then is her labour sav'd, for she was labouring a divorce from him. 

GEORGE

They are well parted then, sir. 

KNAVESBEE

But wilt thou not speak with her? I'faith, invite her to't. 

GEORGE

'Tis not my commission, I dare not. Fare you well, sir; I have much business in hand, and the time is short. 

KNAVESBEE

Nay, but George, I prithee stay. May I report this to her for a certain truth? 

GEORGE

Wherefore am I employ'd in this invitation, sir? 

KNAVESBEE

Prithee what is she, his second choice? 

GEORGE

Truly a goodly presence, likely to bear great children, and great store; she never saw fiveandthirty

summers together in her life by her appearance, and comes in her French hood. By my fecks, a great match


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'tis like to be; I am sorry for my old mistress but cannot help it. Pray you, excuse me now, sir, for all the

business goes through my hands, none employ'd but myself. 

Exit George. 

KNAVESBEE

Why, here is news that no man will believe but he that sees. 

[SIB]

This and your cuckoldry will be digestion throughout the city dinners and suppers for a month together, there

will need no cheese. 

KNAVESBEE

No more of that, Sib. I'll call my cousin Chamlet and make her partaker of this sport. 

Enter [Rachel]. 

She's come already. Cousin, take't at once, y'are a free woman; your late husband's to be married tomorrow. 

[RACHEL]

Married! To whom? 

KNAVESBEE

To a French hood, byrlakins, as I understand; great cheer prepar'd, and great guests invited, so far I know. 

[RACHEL]

What a curst wretch was I to pare my nails today, a Friday too! I look'd for some mischief. 

KNAVESBEE

Why, I did think this had accorded with your best liking; you sought for him what he has sought for you: a

separation, and by divorce too. 

[RACHEL]

I'll divorce 'em! Is he to be married to a French hood? I'll dress it the English fashion; ne'er a coach to be had

with six horses to strike fire i' th' streets as we go? 

KNAVESBEE

Will you go home then? 

[RACHEL]

Good cousin, help me to whet one of my knives while I sharp the tother; give me a sour apple to set my teeth

on edge. I would give five pound for the paring of my nails again! Have you e'er a birdspit i' th' house? I'll

dress one dish to the wedding. 

KNAVESBEE

This violence hurts yourself the most. 

[RACHEL]

I care not who I hurt. Oh my heart, how it beats a' both sides! Will you run with me for a wager into Lombard

Street now? 


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KNAVESBEE

I'll walk with you, cousin, a sufficient pace; Sib shall come softly after. I'll bring you through Bearbinder

Lane. 

[RACHEL]

Bearbinder Lane cannot hold me; I'll the nearest way over St. Mildred's church. If I meet any French hoods

by the way, I'll make black patches enow for the rheum. 

Exeunt [Knavesbee and Rachel]. 

[SIB]

So, 'tis to my wish. Master Knavesbee, 

Help to make peace abroad; here you'll find wars: 

I'll have a divorce too, with locks and bars. 

Exit. 

[IV.iii. Chamlet's shop]

Enter George, Margarita. 

GEORGE

Madam, but stay here a little, my master comes instantly. I heard him say he did owe you a good turn, and

now's the time to take it. I'll warrant you a sound reward e'er you go. 

Enter Chamlet. 

MARGARITA

Ey tank u de bon coure, monsieur. 

GEORGE

Look, he's here already. [Aside] Now would a skillful navigator take in his sails, for sure there is a storm

towards. 

Exit George. 

CHAMLET

Oh, madam, I perceive in your countenance I am beholding to you. All is peace? 

MARGARITA

All quiet, goor friendsheep; ey mooch ado, ey strive wid him, give goor worda for you. No more speak a de

matra, all es undone, u no more trobla. 

Enter [Rachel] and Knavesbee. 

CHAMLET

[Giving her money] Look, there's the price of a fair pair of gloves, and wear 'em for my sake. 

[RACHEL]

Oh, oh, oh, my heart's broke out of my ribs! 


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KNAVESBEE

Nay, a little patience. 

MARGARITA

Ey tank u artely, shall no bestow en gloves; shall put moosh more to dees, an bestow your shop. Regard dess

stof [a] my petticoat. U no soosh anodre; shall deal wid u for moosh: take in your hand. 

CHAMLET

I see it, mistress; 'tis good stuff indeed. 'Tis a silk rash; I can pattern it. 

[RACHEL]

Shall he take up her coats before my face? Oh, beastly creature! [Coming forward] French hood, French

hood, I will make your hair grow thorough! 

CHAMLET

My wife returned! Oh, welcome home, sweet Rachel! 

[RACHEL]

I forbid the banes, lecher! And strumpet, thou shalt bear children without noses! 

[She beats Margarita.] 

MARGARITA

O pardonnezmoi, by my trat ey mean u no hurta! Wat u meant by dees? 

[RACHEL]

I will have thine eyes out, and thy bastards shall be as blind as puppies! 

CHAMLET

Sweet Rachel! Good cousin, help to pacify. 

[RACHEL]

I forbid the banes, adulterer! 

CHAMLET

What means she by that, sir? 

KNAVESBEE

[Restraining her] Good cousin, forbid your rage a while; unless you hear, by what sense will you receive

satisfaction? 

[RACHEL]

By my hands and my teeth, sir, give me leave! Will you bind me whiles mine enemy kills me? 

CHAMLET

Here all are your friends, sweet wife. 

[RACHEL]

Wilt have two wives? Do and [be] hang'd, fornicator! I forbid the banes! Give me the French hood; I'll tread

it under feet in a pair of pantofles! 


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MARGARITA

Begar, shall save hood, head, and all; shall come no more heer, ey warran u. 

Exit Margarita. 

KNAVESBEE

Sir, the truth is, report spoke it for truth 

You were tomorrow to be married. 

[RACHEL]

I forbid the banes! 

CHAMLET

Mercy deliver me, 

If my grave embrace me in the bed of death, 

I would to church with willing ceremony; 

But for my wedlockfellow, here she is: 

The first and last that e'er my thoughts look'd on. 

KNAVESBEE

Why, la, you, cousin! This was nought but error or an assault of mischief. 

CHAMLET

Whose report was it? 

KNAVESBEE

Your man George's, who invited me to the wedding. 

Enter George. 

CHAMLET

George? And was he sober? Good sir, call him. 

GEORGE

It needs not, sir; I am here already. 

CHAMLET

Did you report this, George? 

GEORGE

Yes, sir, I did. 

CHAMLET

And wherefore did you so? 

GEORGE

For a new suit that you promised me, sir, if I could bring home my mistress; and I think she's come, with a

mischief. 

[RACHEL]

Give me that villain's ears! 


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GEORGE

I would give ear, if I could hear you talk wisely. 

[RACHEL]

Let me cut off his ears! 

GEORGE

I shall hear worse of you hereafter then; limb for limb, one of my ears for one of your tongues, and I'll lay out

for my master. 

CHAMLET

'Twas knavery with a good purpose in't; 

Sweet Rachel, this was e'en George's meaning: 

A second marriage, 'twixt thyself and me. 

And now I woo [thee] to't; a quiet night 

Will make the sun, like a fresh bridegroom, rise 

And kiss the chaste cheek of the rosy morn 

Which we will imitate, and like him create 

Fresh buds of love, fresh spreading arms, fresh fruit, 

Fresh wedding robes, and George's fresh new suit. 

[RACHEL]

This is fine stuff; have you much on't to see? 

GEORGE

A remnant of a yard. 

CHAMLET

Come, come, all's well. 

Sir, you must sup, instead of tomorrow's dinner. 

KNAVESBEE

I follow you. 

Exeunt [all but Knavesbee]. 

No, 'tis another way; 

My lord's reward calls me to better cheer: 

Many good meals, a hundred marks a year. 

My wife's transform'd a lady. Tush, she'll come 

To her shape again; my lord rides the circuit: 

If I [ride] along with him, what need I grutch? 

I can as easy, sir, and speed as much. 

Exit Knavesbee. 


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V.[i. Before Sir Francis's house]

Enter Old Franklin in mourning, young Cressingham with young Franklin disguis'd like an old servingman. 

CRESSINGHAM

Sir, your son's death, which has apparell'd you 

In this darker wearing, is a loss wherein 

I have ample share: he was my friend. 

OLD FRANKLIN

He was my nearest and dearest enemy, 

And the perpetual fear of a worse end, 

Had he continued his former dissolute course, 

Makes me weigh his death the lighter. 

CRESSINGHAM

Yet, sir, 

With your pardon, if you value him every way 

As he deserv'd, it will appear your scanting 

Of his means, and the Lord Beaufort's most 

Unlordly breach of promise to him, made 

Him fall upon some courses, to which his nature 

And mine own, made desperate likewise by the cruelty 

Of a motherinlaw, would else have been as strange 

As insolent greatness is to distress'd virtue. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Yes, I have heard of that too, your defeat 

Made upon a mercer: I style 't modestly, 

The law intends it plain cozenage. 

CRESSINGHAM

'Twas no less, 

But my penitence and restitution may 

Come fairly off from't: it was no impeachment 

To the glory won at Agincourt's great battle 

That the achiever of it in his youth 

Had been a pursetaker; this with all reverence 

To th' great example. Now to my business, 

Wherein you have made such noble trial of 

Your worth, that in a world so dull as this, 

Where faith is almost grown to be a miracle, 

I have found a friend so worthy as yourself 

To purchase all the land my father sold 

At the persuasion of a riotous woman, 

And charitable to reserve it for his use 

And the good of his three children; this I say 

Is such a deed shall style you our preserver, 

And owe the memory of your worth, and pay it 

To all posterity. 


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OLD FRANKLIN

Sir, what I have done 

Looks to the end of the good deed itself, 

No other way i' th' world. 

CRESSINGHAM

But would you please 

Out of a friendly reprehension 

To make him sensible of the weighty wrong 

He has done his children? Yet I would not have it 

Too bitter, for he undergoes already 

Such torment in a woman's naughty pride, 

Too harsh reproof would kill him. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Leave you that 

To my discretion: I have made myself 

My son's executor, and am come up 

On purpose to collect his creditors, 

And where I find his pennyworth conscionable, 

I'll make them in part satisfaction. 

Enter George. 

Oh, this fellow was born near me, and his trading here i' th' city may bring me to the knowledge of the men

my son ought money to. 

GEORGE

Your worship's welcome to London. And I pray, how does all our good friends i' th' country? 

OLD FRANKLIN

They are well, George. How thou art shot up since I saw thee! What, I think thou art almost out of thy time? 

GEORGE

I am out of my wits, sir; I have liv'd in a kind of Bedlam these four years: how can I be mine own man then? 

OLD FRANKLIN

Why, what's the matter? 

GEORGE

I may turn soapboiler, I have a loose body: I am turn'd away from my master. 

OLD FRANKLIN

How! Turn'd away? 

GEORGE

I am gone, sir, not in drink, and yet you may behold my indentures. 

[He shows his] indenture. 

Oh, the wicked wit of woman! For the good turn I did bringing her home, she ne'er left sucking my master's


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breath like a cat, kissing him, I mean, till I was turn'd away! 

OLD FRANKLIN

I have heard she's a terrible woman. 

GEORGE

Yes, and the miserablest! Her sparing in housekeeping has cost him somewhat, the Daggerpies can testify.

She has stood in's light most miserably, like your fasting days before red letters in the almanac; saying, the

pinching of our bellies would be a mean to make him wear scarlet the sooner. She had once persuaded him to

have bought spectacles for all his servants, that they might have worn 'em dinner and supper. 

OLD FRANKLIN

To what purpose? 

GEORGE

Marry, to have made our victuals seem bigger than 'twas. She shows from whence she came; that my

windcolic can witness. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Why, whence came she? 

GEORGE

Marry, from a courtier, and an officer too, that was up and down I know not how often. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Had he any great place? 

GEORGE

Yes, a very high one, but he got little by it; he was one that blew the organ in the court chapel: our puritans,

especially your puritans in Scotland, could ne'er away with him. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Is she one of the sect? 

GEORGE

Faith, I think not, for I am certain she denies her husband the supremacy. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Well, George, your difference may be reconcil'd. I am now to use your help in a business that concerns me:

here's a note of men's names here i' th' city unto whom my son ought money, but I do not know their

dwelling. 

GEORGE

[Taking the note from him] Let me see, sir. [Reading] "Fifty pound ta'en up at use of Master Waterthin the

brewer." 

OLD FRANKLIN

What's he? 

GEORGE

An obstinate fellow, and one that denied payment of the groats till he lay by th' heels for't; I know him.


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[Reading] "Item, fourscore pair of provant breeches a' th' new fashion, to Pinchbuttock, a hosier in Birchen

Lane, so much." 

OLD FRANKLIN

What the devil did he with so many pair of breeches? 

FRANKLIN

Supply a captain, sir; a friend of his went over to the Palatinate. 

GEORGE

[Reading] "Item, to my tailor Master Weatherwise, by St. Clement's church." 

CRESSINGHAM

Who should that be? It may be 'tis the new prophet, the astrological tailor. 

FRANKLIN

No, no, no, sir; we have nothing to do with him. 

GEORGE

Well, I'll read no further; leave the note to my discretion: do not fear but I'll inquire them all. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Why, I thank thee, George. [To Cressingham] Sir, rest assur'd I shall in all your business be faithful to you,

and at better leisure find time to imprint deeply in your father the wrong he has done you. 

CRESSINGHAM

You are worthy in all things. 

Exeunt Old Franklin, George and young Franklin. Enter Saunder. 

Is my father stirring? 

SAUNDER

Yes, sir. My lady wonders you are thus chargeable to your father, and will not direct yourself unto some

gainful study may quit him of your dependence. 

CRESSINGHAM

What study? 

SAUNDER

Why, the law, that law that takes up most a' th' wits i' th' kingdom, not for most good, but most gain. Or

divinity: I have heard you talk well, and I do not think but you'd prove a singular fine churchman. 

CRESSINGHAM

I should prove a plural better, if I could attain to fine benefices. 

SAUNDER

My lady, now she has money, is studying to do good works. She talk'd last night what a goodly act it was of a

countessNorthamptonshire breed, belike, or thereaboutsthat to make Coventry a corporation, rode

through the city naked, and by daylight. 


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CRESSINGHAM

I do not think but you have ladies living would discover as much in private, to advance but some member of a

corporation. 

Enter Sir Francis Cressingham. 

SAUNDER

Well, sir, your wit is still goring at my lady's projects. Here's your father. 

SIR FRANCIS

Thou com'st to chide me, hearing how like a ward I am handled since the sale of my land. 

CRESSINGHAM

No, sir, but to turn your eyes into your own bosom. 

SIR FRANCIS

Why, I am become my wife's pensioner, am confin'd to a hundred mark a year, t' one suit, and one man to

attend me? 

SAUNDER

And is not that enough for a private gentleman? 

SIR FRANCIS

Peace, sirrah; there is nothing but knave speaks in thee. And my two poor children must be put forth to

prentice! 

CRESSINGHAM

Ha! To prentice? Sir, I do not come to grieve you, 

But to show how wretched your estate was, 

That you could not come to see order 

Until foul disorder pointed the way to't: 

So inconsiderate, yet so fruitful still 

Is dotage to beget its own destruction. 

SIR FRANCIS

Surely I am nothing, and desire to be so. 

Pray thee, fellow, entreat her only to be quiet; 

I have given her all my estate on that condition. 

SAUNDER

Yes, sir; her coffers are well lin'd, believe me. 

SIR FRANCIS

And yet she is not contented; we observe 

The moon is ne'er so pleasant and so clear 

As when she is at the full. 

CRESSINGHAM

You did no use 

My mother with this observance. You are like 

The frogs who, weary of their quiet king,


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Consented to the election of the stork, 

Who in the end devour'd them. 

SIR FRANCIS

You may see 

How apt man is to forfeit all his judgment 

Upon the instant of his fall. 

CRESSINGHAM

Look up, sir. 

SIR FRANCIS

O, my heart's broke! Weighty are injuries 

That come from an enemy, but those are deadly 

That come from a friend, for we see commonly 

Those are ta'en most to heart. 

Enter the Lady Cressingham. 

She comes. 

CRESSINGHAM

What a terrible eye she darts on us! 

SIR FRANCIS

Oh, most natural for lightning to go before the thunder. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

What? Are you in council? Are ye levying faction against us? 

SIR FRANCIS

Good friend! 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Sir, sir, pray, come hither. There is winter in your looks, a latter winter. Do you complain to your kindred? I'll

make you fear extremely to show you have any cause to fear. Are the bonds seal'd for the six thousand

pounds I put forth to use? 

SAUNDER

Yes, madam. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

The bonds were made in my uncle's name? 

SAUNDER

Yes. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

'Tis well. 

SIR FRANCIS


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'Tis strange though. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Nothing strange; you'll think the allowance I have put you to as strange, but your judgment cannot reach the

aim I have in't. You were prick'd last year to be high sheriff, and what it would have cost you I understand

now. All this charge and the other by the sale of your land, and the money at my dispose, and your pension so

small, will settle you in quiet, make you master of a retir'd life. And our great ones may think you a politic

man, and that you are aiming at some strange business, having made all over. 

SIR FRANCIS

I must leave you. Man is never truly awake till he be dead! 

Exeunt [Sir Francis] Cressingham and Saunder. 

CRESSINGHAM

What a dream have you made of my father! 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Let him be so, and keep the proper place of dream, his bed, until I raise him. 

CRESSINGHAM

Raise him! Not likely! 'Tis you have ruin'd him! 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

You do not come to quarrel? 

CRESSINGHAM

No, certain, but to persuade you to a thing that in the virtue of it nobly carries its own commendation, and

you shall gain much honour by it, which is the recompense of all virtuous actions: to use my father kindly. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Why? Does he complain to you, sir? 

CRESSINGHAM

Complain? Why should a king complain for anything but for his sins to heaven? The prerogative of husband

is like to his over his wife. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

I am full of business, sir, and will not mind you. 

CRESSINGHAM

I must not leave you thus; I tell you, mother, 

'Tis dangerous to a woman: when her mind 

Raises her to such height, it makes her only 

Capable of her own merit, nothing of duty! 

Oh, 'twas a strange unfortunate o'erprising 

Your beauty brought him, otherwise discreet, 

Into the fatal neglect of his poor children. 

What will you give us of the late sum you receiv'd? 

LADY CRESSINGHAM


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Not a penny. Away, you are troublesome and saucy! 

CRESSINGHAM

You are too cruel; denials even from princes, 

Who may do what they list, should be supplied 

With a gracious verbal usage, that though they 

Do not cure the sore, they may abate the sense of't. 

The wealth you seem to command over is his, 

And he I hope will dispose of't to our use. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

When he can command my will. 

CRESSINGHAM

Have you made him 

So miserable that he must take a law from his wife? 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Have you not had some lawyers forc'd to groan 

Under the burden? 

CRESSINGHAM

Oh, but the greater the women 

The more visible are their vices. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

So, 

Sir, you have been so bold. By all can bind 

An oath, and I'll not break it, I will not be 

The woman to you hereafter you expected. 

CRESSINGHAM

Be not; be not yourself, be not my father's wife, 

Be not my Lady Cressingham, and then 

I'll thus speak to you, but you must not answer 

In your own person. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

A fine puppetplay! 

CRESSINGHAM

Good madam, please you pity the mistress 

Of a poor gentleman that is undone 

By a cruel motherinlaw; you do not know her, 

Nor does she deserve the knowledge of any good one, 

For she does not know herself. You would sigh for 

That e'er she took [your] sex, if you but heard 

Her qualities. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

This is a fine crotchet. 


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CRESSINGHAM

Envy and pride flow in her painted breasts, 

She gives no other suck; all her attendants 

Do not belong to her husband, his money is hers: 

Marry, his debts are his own. She bears such sway 

She will not suffer his religion be his own 

But what she please to turn it to. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

And all this while, 

I am the woman you libel against. 

CRESSINGHAM

I remember 

Ere the land was sold you talk'd of going to Ireland, 

But should you touch there, you would die presently. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Why, man? 

CRESSINGHAM

The country brooks no poison: go, 

You'll find how difficult a thing it is 

To make a settled or assur'd estate 

Of things illgotten. When my father's dead, 

The curse of lust and riot follow you! 

Marry some young gallant that may rifle you, 

Yet add one blessing to your needy age, 

That you may die full of repentance. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Ha, ha, ha! 

CRESSINGHAM

Oh, she is lost to any kind of goodness! 

Exeunt. 

[V.ii. A street outside Lord Beaufort's house]

Enter Lord Beaufort and Knavesbee. 

BEAUFORT

Sirrah, be gone; y'are base! 

KNAVESBEE

Base, my good lord? 

'Tis a ground part in music: trebles, means, 

All is but [fiddling]. Your honour bore a part 

As my wife says, my lord. 


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BEAUFORT

Your wife's a strumpet! 

KNAVESBEE

Ah ha, is she so? I am glad to hear it: 

Open confession, open payment. 

The wager's mine then, a hundred a year, my lord; 

I said so before, and stak'd my head against it. 

Thus after darksome night, the day is come, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Hence, hide thy branded head; let no day see thee, 

Nor thou any but thy execution day! 

KNAVESBEE

That's the day after washing day; once a week 

I see't at home, my lord. 

BEAUFORT

Go home and see 

Thy prostituted wife, for sure 'tis so, 

Now folded in a boy's adultery, 

My page, on whom the hot[rein'd] harlot dotes. 

This night he hath been her attendant. My house 

He's fled from, and must no more return. Go, 

And make haste, sir, lest your reward be lost 

For want of looking to. 

KNAVESBEE

My reward lost! 

Is there nothing due for what is past, my lord? 

BEAUFORT

[Beating him] Yes, pander, wittol, macrio, basest of knaves! 

Thou bolsterbawd to thine own infamy! 

Go, I have no more about me at this time; 

When I am better stor'd thou shalt have more 

Where'er I meet thee. 

KNAVESBEE

[Aside] Pander, wittol, macrio, base knave, bolsterbawd! Here is but five mark toward a hundred a year; this

is poor payment. If lords may be trusted no better than thus, I will go home and cut my wife's nose off. I will

turn over a new leaf and hang up the page. Lastly, I will put on a large pair of wetleather boots and drown

myself; I will sink at Queenhive and rise again at Charing Cross, contrary to the statute in Edwardo primo. 

Exit. Enter Old Franklin, his son [Franklin disguised] as before, George, three or four citizens [as] Creditors. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Good health to your lordship. 


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BEAUFORT

Master Franklin, I heard of your arrival and the cause of this your sad appearance. 

OLD FRANKLIN

And 'tis no more than as your honour says, indeed, appearance: it has more form than feeling sorrow, sir, I

must confess. There's none of these gentlemen, though aliens in bonds, but have as large cause of grief as I. 

FIRST CREDITOR

No, by your favour, sir, we are well satisfied. There was in his life a greater hope, but less assurance. 

SECOND CREDITOR

Sir, I wish all my debts of no better promise to pay me thus; fifty in the hundred comes fairly homewards. 

FRANKLIN

Considering hard bargains and dead commodities, sir. 

SECOND CREDITOR

Thou sayst true, friend, and from a dead debtor too. 

BEAUFORT

And so you have compounded and agreed all your son's riotous debts? 

OLD FRANKLIN

That's behind but one cause of worse condition; that done, he may sleep quietly. 

FIRST CREDITOR

Yes, sure, my lord, this gentleman is come a wonder to us all, that so fairly with half a loss could satisfy those

debts were dead, even with his son, and from whom we could have nothing claim'd. 

OLD FRANKLIN

I showed my reason; I would have a good name live after him because he bore my name. 

SECOND CREDITOR

May his tongue perish first, and that will spoil his trade, that first gives him a syllable of ill. 

BEAUFORT

Why, this is friendly. 

Enter Chamlet. 

CHAMLET

My lord! 

BEAUFORT

Master Chamlet, very welcome. 

CHAMLET

Master Franklin, I take it. These gentlemen I know well: good Pennystone, Master Phillip, Master Cheyney! I

am glad I shall take my leave of so many of my good friends at once. [Shaking their hands] Your hand first,

my lord; fare you well, sir. Nay, I must have all your hands to my pass. 


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GEORGE

Will you have mine too, sir? 

CHAMLET

Yes, thy two hands, George, and I think two honest hands of a tradesman, George, as any between Cornhill

and Lombard Street. 

GEORGE

Take heed what you say, sir; there's Birchen Lane between 'em. 

BEAUFORT

But what's the cause of this, Master Chamlet? 

CHAMLET

I have the cause in handling now, my lord: George, honest George is the cause, yet no cause of George's.

George is [turn'd] away one way, and I must go another. 

BEAUFORT

And whither is your way, sir? 

CHAMLET

[E'en] to seek out a quiet life, my lord: I do hear of a fine peaceable island. 

BEAUFORT

Why, 'tis the same you live in. 

CHAMLET

No, 'tis so fam'd, 

But we th' inhabitants find it not so. 

The place I speak of has been keep with thunder, 

With frightful lightnings, amazing noises, 

But now, th' enchantment broke, 'tis the land of peace, 

Where hogs and tobacco yield fair increase. 

BEAUFORT

This is a little wild, methinks. 

CHAMLET

Gentlemen, fare you well; I am for the Bermudas. 

BEAUFORT

Nay, good sir, stay. And is that your only cause, the loss of George? 

CHAMLET

The loss of George, my lord! Make you that no cause? Why, but examine, would it not break the stout heart

of a nobleman to lose his George, much more the tender bosom of a citizen? 

BEAUFORT

Fie, fie, I'm sorry your gravity should run back to lightness thus. You go to the Bermothes! 

OLD FRANKLIN


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Better to Ireland, sir. 

CHAMLET

The land of ire? That's too near home; my wife will be heard from Hellbree to Divelin. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Sir, I must of necessity a while detain you. I must acquaint you with a benefit that's coming towards you. You

were cheated of some goods of late; come, I'm a cunning man and will help you to the most part again, or

some reasonable satisfaction. 

CHAMLET

That's another cause of my unquiet life, sir. Can you do that, I may chance stay another tide or two. 

Enter [Rachel]. 

My wife! I must speak more private with you. By forty foot, pain of death, I dare not reach her. No words of

me, sweet gentlemen! 

Slips behind the arras. 

GEORGE

I had need hide too. 

[He follows Chamlet.] 

[RACHEL]

Oh, my lord, I have scarce tongue enough yet to tell you; my husband, my husband's gone from me. Your

warrant, good my lord, I never had such need of your warrant; my husband's gone from me! 

BEAUFORT

Going he is, 'tis true; h'as ta'en his leave of me, and all these gentlemen, and 'tis your sharp tongue that whips

him forward. 

[RACHEL]

A warrant, good my lord! 

BEAUFORT

You turn away his servants, such on whom his estate depends, he says, who know his books, his debts, his

customers; the form and order of all his affairs you make orderless. Chiefly, his George you have banish'd

from him. 

[RACHEL]

My lord, I will call George again. 

GEORGE within 

Call George again! 

BEAUFORT

Why, hark you, how highvoic'd you are that raise an echo from my cellarage, which we with modest

loudness cannot. 


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[RACHEL]

My lord, do you think I speak too loud? 

GEORGE within 

Too loud. 

BEAUFORT

Why hark, your own tongue answers you, and reverberates your words into your teeth. 

[RACHEL]

I will speak lower all the days of my life: I never found the fault in myself till now. Your warrant, good my

lord, to stay my husband! 

BEAUFORT

Well, well, it shall o'ertake him ere he pass Gravesend, provided that he meet his quietness at home; else, he's

gone again. 

OLD FRANKLIN

And withal to call George again. 

[RACHEL]

I will call George again. 

GEORGE within 

Call George again. 

BEAUFORT

See, you are raised again, the echo tells you. 

[RACHEL]

I did forget myself indeed, my lord: this is my last fault; I will go make a silent inquiry after George. I will

whisper half a score porters in the ear that shall run softly up and down the city to seek him. [Be wi'] ye, my

lord; [bye] all, gentlemen. 

Exit. [Chamlet and George come forward.] 

BEAUFORT

George, your way lies before you now: cross the street and come into her eyes; your master's journey will be

stay'd. 

GEORGE

I'll warrant you bring it to better subjection yet. 

[Exit.] 

BEAUFORT

These are fine flashes; how now, Master Chamlet? 

CHAMLET

I had one ear lent to youward, my lord, 

And this o' th' tother side; both sounded sweetly: 


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I have whole recovered my late losses, sir; 

Th'one half paid, the tother is forgiven. 

BEAUFORT

Then your journey is stay'd? 

CHAMLET

Alas, my lord, 

That was a trick of age, for I had left 

Never a trick of youth like it to succour me. 

Enter Barber and Knavesbee. 

BEAUFORT

How now? What new object's here? 

BARBER

[To Knavesbee] The next man we meet shall judge us. 

KNAVESBEE

[To Barber] Content, though he be but a common councilman. 

BEAUFORT

The one's a knave; I could know him at twelvescore distance. 

OLD FRANKLIN

And tother's a barbersurgeon, my lord. 

KNAVESBEE

I'll go no further; here is the honourable lord that I know will grant my request. My lord 

BARBER

Peace, I will make it plain to his lordship. My lord, a covenant by jus jurandum is between us: he is to

suffocate my respiration by his capistrum, and I to make incision so far as mortification by his jugulars. 

BEAUFORT

This is not altogether so plain neither, sir. 

BARBER

I can speak no plainer, my lord, unless I wrong mine art. 

KNAVESBEE

I can, my lord; I know some part of the law. I am to take him in this place where I find him, and lead him

from hence to the place of execution, and there to hang him till he dies. He in equal courtesy is to cut my

throat with his razor, and there's an end of both on's. 

BARBER

There is the end, my lord, but we want the beginning. I stand upon it to be strangled first before I touch either

his gula or cervix. 

KNAVESBEE


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I am against it, for how shall I be sure to have my throat cut after he's hang'd? 

BEAUFORT

Is this a condition betwixt you? 

KNAVESBEE

A firm covenant, sign'd and seal'd by oath and handfast, and wants nothing but agreement. 

BEAUFORT

A little pause: what might be the cause on either part? 

BARBER

My passions are grown to putrefaction, and my griefs are gangren'd; Master Chamlet has scarified me all

over, besides the loss of my new brush. 

KNAVESBEE

I am kept out of mine own castle; my wife keeps the hold against me. Your page, my lord, is her champion; I

summon'd a parle at the window, was answered with defiance. They confess they have lain together, but what

they have done else I know not. 

BEAUFORT

Thou canst have no wrong that deserves pity, thou art thyself so bad. 

KNAVESBEE

I thank your honour for that; let me have my throat cut then. 

CHAMLET

Sir, I can give you a better remedy than his capistrum; your ear a little. [Whispers to Beaufort.] 

Enter [Mistress Cressingham] as a woman, and [Sib]. 

[SIB]

I come with a bold innocence to answer 

The best and worst that can accuse me here. 

BEAUFORT

Your husband. 

[SIB]

He's the worst, I dare his worst. 

KNAVESBEE

Your page, your page. 

[SIB]

We lay together in bed, 

It is confess'd; you and your ends of law 

Make worser of it: I did it for reward. 

BEAUFORT

I'll hear no more of this. Come, gentlemen, will you walk? 


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Page No 80


Enter young Cressingham. 

CRESSINGHAM

My lord, a little stay; you'll see a sight 

That neighbour amity will be much pleas'd with. 

'Tis come already: my father, sir. 

Enter [Sir Francis, finely dressed]. 

BEAUFORT

There must be cause, certain, for this good change. 

Sir, you are bravely met; 

This is at the best I ever saw you. 

SIR FRANCIS

My lord, I am amazement to myself; 

I slept in poverty, and am awake 

Into this wonder. How I [came] thus brave, 

My dreams did not so much as tell me of. 

I am of my kind son's new making up; 

It exceeds the pension much that yesternight 

Allow'd me, and my pockets centupled, 

But I am my son's child, sir: he knows of me 

More than I do myself. 

CRESSINGHAM

Sir, you yet have 

But earnest of your happiness, a pinnace 

Foreriding a goodly vessel by this near anchor, 

Bulk'd like a castle, and with jewels fraught, 

Joys above jewels, sir, from deck to keel. 

Make way for the receipt, empty your bosom 

Of all griefs and troubles, leave not a sigh 

To beat her back again; she is so stor'd 

Ye'ad need have room enough to take her lading. 

SIR FRANCIS

If one commodity be wanting now, 

All this is nothing. 

CRESSINGHAM

Tush, that must out too. 

There must be no remembrance, not the thought 

That ever youth in woman did abuse you, 

That [e'er] your children had a stepmother, 

That you sold lands to please your punishment, 

That you were circumscrib'd and taken in, 

Abridg'd the large extendure of your grounds, 

And put into the pinfold that belong'd to't, 

That your son did cheat for want of maintenance; 


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That he did beg, you shall remember only, 

For I have begg'd off all these troubles from you. 

BEAUFORT

This was a good week's labour. 

CRESSINGHAM

Not an hour's, 

My lord, but 'twas a happy one. See, sir, 

A new day shines on you. 

Enter Lady Cressingham in civil habit, Saunder, and children [Maria and Edward dressed] very gallant. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Oh, sir, your son 

Has robb'd me! 

SIR FRANCIS

Ha! That way I instructed? 

CRESSINGHAM

Nay, hear her, sir. 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Of my good purpose, sir; 

He hath forc'd out of me what lay conceal'd, 

Ripen'd my pity with his dews of duty. 

Forgive me, sir, and but keep the number 

Of every grief that I have pain'd you with; 

I'll tenfold pay with fresh obedience. 

CHAMLET

Oh, that my wife were here to learn this lesson! 

LADY CRESSINGHAM

Your state is not abated; what was yours 

Is still your own, and take the cause withal 

Of my harshseeming usage. It was to reclaim 

Faults in yourself, the swift consumption 

Of many large revenues, gaming, that 

Of not much less speed, burning up house and land, 

Not casual but cunning fire, which though 

It keeps the chimney and outward shows 

Like hospitality, is only devourer on't, 

Consuming chemistry. There I have made you 

A flat bankrout; all your stillatories 

And labouring minerals are demolish'd: 

That part of hell in your house is extinct. 

Put out your desire with them, and then these feet 

Shall level with my hands, until you raise 

My stoop'd humility to higher grace, 


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To warm these lips with love and duty do 

To every silver hair: each one shall be 

A senator to my obedience. 

SIR FRANCIS

All this I [knew] before: whoever of you 

That had but one ill thought of this good woman, 

You owe a knee to her, and she is merciful 

If she forgive you. 

BEAUFORT

That shall be private penance, sir; we'll joy in public with you. 

Enter George and [Rachel]. 

GEORGE

On the conditions I tell you, not else. 

[RACHEL]

Sweet George, dear George, any conditions. 

CHAMLET

My wife! 

OLD FRANKLIN

Peace, George is bringing her to conditions. 

CHAMLET

Good ones, good George. 

GEORGE

You shall never talk your voice above the key sol, sol, sol. 

[RACHEL]

Sol, sol, sol; ay, George. 

GEORGE

Say, "Welcome home, honest George," in that pitch. 

[RACHEL]

Welcome home, honest George. 

GEORGE

Why, this is well now. 

CHAMLET

That's well indeed, George. 

GEORGE

"Rogue" nor "rascal" must never come out of your mouth. 


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[RACHEL]

They shall never come in, honest George. 

GEORGE

Nor I will not have you call my master plain husband, that's too [coarse]; but as your gentlewomen in the

country use and your [parsons'] wives in the town, 'tis comely and shall be customed in the city, call him

Master Chamlet at every word. 

[RACHEL]

At every word, honest George. 

GEORGE

Look you, there he is: salute him then. 

[RACHEL]

Welcome home, good Master Chamlet. 

CHAMLET

Thanks and a thousand, sweet. "Wife," I may say, honest George? 

GEORGE

Yes, sir, or "bird," or "chuck," or "heart's ease," or plain "Rachel;" but call her "Rac" no more, as long as she

is quiet. 

CHAMLET

Godamercy, sha't have thy new suit a' Sunday, George. 

[RACHEL]

George shall have two new suits, Master Chamlet. 

CHAMLET

Godamercy, i'faith, chuck! 

BARBER

Master Chamlet, you and I are friends, all even betwixt us? 

CHAMLET

I do acquit thee, neighbour Sweetball. 

BARBER

I will not be hang'd then; Knavesbee, do thy worst, nor I will not cut thy throat. 

KNAVESBEE

I must do't myself. 

BARBER

If thou com'st to my shop and usurp'st my chair of maintenance, I will go as near as I can, but I will not do't. 

CRESSINGHAM

No, 'tis I must cut Knavesbee's throat, for slandering a modest gentlewoman, and my wife, in the shape of

your page, my lord. In her own I durst not place her so near your lordship. 


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BEAUFORT

No more of that, sir; if your ends have acquir'd their own events, crown 'em with your own joy. 

CRESSINGHAM

Down a' your knees, Knavesbee, to your wife: she's too honest for you. 

BARBER

Down, down, before you are hang'd; 'twill be [too] late afterwards, and long thou canst not 'scape it. 

Knavesbee kneels [and Sib holds the Barber's razor to his throat]. 

[SIB]

You'll play the pander no more, will you? 

KNAVESBEE

Oh, that's an inch into my throat! 

[SIB]

And let out your wife for [hire]? 

KNAVESBEE

Oh sweet wife, go no deeper! 

[SIB]

Dare any be bail for your better behaviour? 

BEAUFORT

Yes, yes, I dare; he will mend one day. 

[SIB]

And be worse the next. 

KNAVESBEE

Hang me the third then, dear merciful wife; 

I will do anything for a quiet life! 

BEAUFORT

All then is reconcil'd. 

BARBER

Only my brush is lost. My dear new brush! 

OLD FRANKLIN

I will help you to satisfaction for that too, sir. 

BARBER

Oh, [spermaceti], I feel it heal already! 

OLD FRANKLIN

Gentlemen, I have fully satisfied my dead son's debts? 


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[CREDITORS] 

All pleas'd, all paid, sir. 

OLD FRANKLIN

Then once more here I bring him back to life: 

From my servant to my son. 

[He removes Franklin's disguise.] 

Nay, wonder not. 

I have not dealt by fallacy with any; 

My son was dead: whoe'er outlives his virtues 

Is a dead man, for when you hear of spirits 

That walk in real bodies to the amaze 

And cold astonishment of such as meet 'em 

And all would shun, those are men of vices, 

Who nothing have but what is visible, 

And so by consequence they have no souls. 

But if the soul return, he lives again, 

Created newly; such my son appears, 

By my blessing rooted, growing by his tears. 

[CREDITORS] 

You have beguil'd us honestly, sir. 

FRANKLIN

And you shall have your brush again. 

BARBER

My basins shall all ring for joy. 

BEAUFORT

Why, this deserves a triumph, and my cost 

Shall begin a feast to't, to which I do 

Invite you all. Such happy reconcilements 

Must not be past without a health of joy: 

Discorded friends aton'd, men and their wives, 

This hope proclaims your after quiet lives. 

Exeunt. 

EPILOGUE

I am sent t'inquire your censure, and to know 

How you stand affected; [whether] we do owe 

Our service to your favours, or must strike 

Our sails, though full of hope, to your dislike. 

Howe'er, be pleas'd to think we purpos'd well, 

And from my fellows thus much I must tell: 

Instruct us but in what we went astray, 


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And to redeem it, we'll take any way. 


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Bookmarks



1. Table of Contents, page = 3

2. Anything for a Quiet Life, page = 4

   3. Thomas Middleton, page = 4

   4. I.[i. Sir Francis Cressingham's house], page = 5

   5. II.[i. Knavesbee's house], page = 16

   6. III.[i. Lord Beaufort's house], page = 36

   7. IV.[i. Sir Francis's house], page = 49

   8. V.[i. Before Sir Francis's house], page = 65