I then returned home, and thrust myself Then coming home, and sitting in my shop Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste, Cit. 'Tis a pretty fiction, i̇' faith! Ralph. Then took I up my bow and shaft And walked in Moorfields to cool myself: Ne'er shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet, And pluck down houses of iniquity; I die! fly, fly, my soul, to Grocers' Hall! Oh, Wife. Well said, Ralph! do your obeisance to the gentlemen, and go your ways. Well said, Ralph! [Exit Ralph. Mer. Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly reconciled, should not part without a song. Merch. A good motion. Better musick ne'er was known, And poesie in my hand.] The orthography varied by Sympson to posie. EPILOGUS. Cit. Come, Nell, shall we go? the play's done. Wife. Nay, by my faith, George, I have more manners than so; I'll speak to these gentlemen first. I thank you all, gentlemen, for your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor fatherless child! and if I may see you at my house, it should go hard but I would have a pottle of wine, and a pipe of tobacco for you; for truly I hope you like the youth; but I would be glad to know the truth: I refer it to your own discretions, whether you will applaud him or no; for I will wink, and, whilst, you shall do what you will ---I thank you with all my heart. God give you good night! Come, George, THE privy mark of irony, which runs through this play, not being understood, was the reason, says Walter Burre, [In his Dedication of the quarto of 1613, to his many ways endeered friend, maister Robert Keysar] that it was ready to give up the ghost, and ran the danger of being smothered in perpetual oblivion, had not Mr. Keysar been moved to relieve and cherish it. And that the Reader may not think the hint of ridiculing Romance-Writers was taken from Don Quixote, the same Burre assures us, in very strong terms, that our Knight came out into the world above a full year before the Spaniard. It this be so, then the present play was wrote at least in the year 1604, for Cervantes did not publish his first part before A. D. 1605. However, this eight days performance has more gall in it than I could wish; and the Poet, against whom the keenest part of this satire is seemingly levelicd, deserved better treatment than we find he has met with: And it might be owing perhaps to Spenser's friends that this piece was suppressed for at least the term of nine years, i, e. from 1604, in which it might be wrote, to A. D. 1613, when the first quarto copy came out into the world. Sympson. We by no means credit the assertion of Walter Burre, that our Knight came into the world' before Don Quixote: It must be obvious to every attentive reader of both, VOL. II. 3 Q that our Authors derived many principal hints from that source. But a much stronger proof of this play being of a later date than Burre asserts, is, that it followed Heywood's Four Prentices (the reference to which is fully proved by the very ingenious Mr. Warton, p. 472 of this volume) of which we have no account till the year 1612. It therefore appears probable, that Cervantes began the ridicule on Knight-Errantry; that Heywood followed his track; and that our Authors (even while they laughed at Heywood) burlesqued the same folly in the succeeding year. LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE: A COMEDY., The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner ascribe this play to Fletcher alone; the Prologue to both Writers. It was originally printed in the folio edition; has not been performed for many years past; nor do we know of its ever having received any alterations. PROLOGUE. To this place, gentlemen, full many a day We must entreat you look for: A good tale, Let them dispute that writ it. Ten to one Nor no light.] The context, as well as the measure, seems to require us to read, 'We must entreat you look for;' MARC-ANTONIO, Son to Leonardo. RODORIGO, General of the Spanish Gallies. INCUBO, Bailiff of Custel-Blanco. LAZARO, Hostier to Diego. Host of Barcelona. Bailiff of Barcelona. Chirurgeons. Soldiers. Townsmen. Attendants. THEODOSIA, Daughter to LEOCADIA, Daughter to Sunchio, in love with Marc-Antonio. EUGENIA, Wife to the Governor of Barcelona. Wife to the Host of Barcelona. SCENE, Barcelona and the Road, ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Incubo and Diego. Inc. Oh, the block! Diego. Why, bow should I have answer'd? Incubo. SIGNOR don Diego, and mine host, Negligent rudeness; but, Ikiss your hands, Thou ne'er wilt have the elegancy of an host; I sorrow for thee, as my friend and gossip!No smoak, nor steam out-breathing from the kitchen? There's little life i' th' hearth then.. Diego. Ay; there, there! That is his friendship, hearkening for the spit, And sorry that he cannot smell the pot boil. Inc. Strange An inn should be so curs'd, and not the sign Blasted nor wither'd; very strange! three days now, And not an egg eat in it, nor an onion. Diego. I think they ha' strew'd th' highways with caltraps, I; No horse dares pass 'em; I did never know A week of so sad doings, since I first Stood to my sign-post. Inc. Gossip, I have found The root of all: Kneel, pray; it is thyself Of his own fortune, good or bad: But mend it; Inc. Do, call, And put 'em on in haste: A'ter thy fortune, By appearing worthy of her. Dost thou think Her good face e'er will know a man in cuerpo? In single body, thus? in hose and doublet, The horse-boy's garb? base blank, and halfblank cuerpo? Did I, or master dean of Sevil, our neighbour, E'er reach our dignities in cuerpo, think'st thou? In squirting hose and doublet? Signor, no; There went more to't: There were cloaks, gowns, cassocks, And other paramentos: Call, I say. Enter Hostess. Hostess. What means your worship? Inc. Bring forth thy husband's sword. So! hang it on. And now his cloak! here, cast it up. I mean, Gossip, to change your luck, and bring you guests. Hostess. Why, is there charm in this? Inc. Expect. Now walk; But not the pace of one that runs on errands! For want of gravity in an host is odious. You may remember, gossip, if you please, (Your wife being then th' infanta of the gipsies, [then) And yourself governing a great man's mules Me a poor 'squire at Madrid, attending A master of ceremonies (but a man, believe it, That knew his place to the gold-weight); and such, Have I heard him oft say, ought ev'ry host Diego. How? Inc. A master of ceremonies; [cuerpo; At least, vice-master, and to do nought in That was his maxim. I will tell thee of him: He would not speak with an ambassador's cook, See a cold bake-meat from a foreign part, The Milan sword, the cloak of Genoa, set [sent it. [Knock within. With a tame cony, as with the prince that Diego. List! who is there? Inc. A guest, an't be thy will! Diego. Look, spouse; cry luck,' an we be encounter'd. Ha? Hostess. Luck then, and good; for 'tis a fine brave guest, With a brave horse. Inc. Why now, believe of cuerpo As you shall see occasion. Go, and meet him. Is but a vent of need, that now and then Receives a guest between the greater towns, As they come late; only one room Inc. She means, sir, it is none Of those wild scatter'd heaps call'd inns, where scarce The host's heard, tho' he wind his horn t'his people; Here is a competent pile, wherein the man, Wife, servants, all do live within the whistle. Hostess. Only one room Inc. A pretty modest quadrangle! She will describe to you. Hostess. (Wherein stand two beds, sir) We have; and where, if any guest dɔ come, He must of force be lodg'd; that is the truth, sir. Enter Diego. Theod. But if I pay you for both your beds, That should alike content you. Hostess. That it shall, sir: If I be paid, I'm paid. Theod. Why, there's a ducat; Will that make your content? [methinks, Hostess. Oh, the sweet face on you! A ducat? yes: An there were three beds, sir, And twice so many rooms, which is one more, You should be private in them all, in all, sir : No one should have a piece of a bed with you; Not master dean of Sevil himself, I swear, Tho' he came naked hither, as once he did, When h' had like t' have been ta'en a-bed with the Moor, And gelt by'r master; you shall be as private As if you lay in's own great house that's haunted, Where nobody comes, they say. Hostess. Yes, marry will I, sir; And pray that not a flea, or a chinch 3 vex you. [Exeunt Hostess and Theod. Inc. You forget supper! Gossip, move for supper. Diego. 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do! his horse Threw him into this fit. Inc. You shall excuse me; It was his being in cuerpo merely caus'd it. Diego. Do think so, sir? you [tridge, Inc. Most unlucky cuerpo! Nought else. He looks as he would eat parThis guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house? And a fine piece of kid now? and fresh garlick, Venta.] An inn. Hispanicè. Theobald. cony, And drank my whole twelve marvedis in wine, As easy as I now get down three olives. Diego. And, with your temperance-favour, I think yet Your worship would put to't at six and thirty 5, For a good wager; and the meal in too. Inc. I do not know what mine old mouth can do; I have not prov'd it lately. Diego. That's the grief, sir. Inc. But is he, without hope then, gone to-bed? Hostess. I fear so, sir; h' has lock'd the 3 Chinch.] Stevens's Spanish Dictionary explains chinche in this manner: An insect breeding in wood, and particularly in bedsteads." We call them bugs, and from the French punaises, Latin cimer, thence corruptly chinche.' R. With a sardina and Zant oil?] A sardina, or sardiny, is an anchovy. Sympson. 5 Your worship would put to't at six and thirty.] Sympson says, 'This is not an age for a man to be called old at: Sir and fifty, I imagine, was what our Authors wrote.' We see no reason for this variation; thirty-six is old to seventeen. |