Читать книгу Burlesque Plays and Poems - Various - Страница 12

Host. Thou valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, give ear to me: there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true knight, I will not bate a penny.

Wife. George, I prithee tell me, must Ralph pay twelve shillings now?

Cit. No, Nell, no, nothing; but the old knight is merry with Ralph.

Wife. O, is't nothing else? Ralph will be as merry as he.

Ralph. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well,

But to requite this liberal courtesy,

If any of your squires will follow arms,

He shall receive from my heroic hand

A knighthood, by the virtue of this pestle.

Host. Fair knight, I thank you for your noble offer; therefore, gentle knight, twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.

Wife. Look, George, did not I tell thee as much? The knight of the Bell is in earnest. Ralph shall not be beholding to him; give him his money, George, and let him go snick-up.

Cit. Cap Ralph? No; hold your hand, Sir Knight of the Bell, there's your money. Have you anything to say to Ralph now? Cap Ralph?

Wife. I would you should know it, Ralph has friends that will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten times to the end of that. Now take thy course, Ralph.

Mist. Mer. Come, Michael, thou and I will go home to thy father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll set fellows abroad to cry our purse and casket. Shall we, Michael?

Mich. Ay, I pray mother, in truth my feet are full of chilblains with travelling.

Wife. Faith and those chilblains are a foul trouble. Mistress Merry-thought, when your youth comes home let him rub all the soles of his feet and his heels and his ankles with a mouse-skin; or if none of you can catch a mouse, when he goes to bed let him roll his feet in the warm embers, and I warrant you he shall be well, and you may make him put his fingers between his toes and smell to them, it's very sovereign for his head if he be costive.

Mist. Mer. Master Knight of the Burning Pestle, my son Michael and I bid you farewell; I thank your worship heartily for your kindness.

Ralph. Farewell, fair lady, and your tender squire.

If pricking through these deserts, I do hear

Of any trait'rous knight, who, through his guile

Hath light upon your casket and your purse,

I will despoil him of them and restore them.

Mist. Mer. I thank your worship.

[Exit with Michael.

Ralph. Dwarf, bear my shield; squire, elevate my lance,

And now farewell, you knight of holy Bell.

Cit. Ay, ay, Ralph, all is paid.

Ralph. But yet before I go, speak, worthy knight,

If aught you do of sad adventures know,

Where errant knight may through his prowess win

Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls

From endless bonds of steel and lingring pain.

Host. Sirrah, go to Nick the Barber, and bid him prepare

himself, as I told you before, quickly.

Tap. I am gone, sir. [Exit Tapster.

Host. Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none

But the great venture, where full many a knight

Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame,

And where I would not have you lose your life,

Against no man, but furious fiend of hell.

Ralph. Speak on, Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where:

For here I vow upon my blazing badge,

Never to lose a day in quietness;

But bread and water will I only eat,

And the green herb and rock shall be my couch,

Till I have quell'd that man, or beast, or fiend,

That works such damage to all errant knights.

Host. Not far from hence, near to a craggy cliff

At the north end of this distresséd town,

There doth stand a lowly house

Ruggedly builded, and in it a cave,

In which an ugly giant now doth dwell,

Yclepéd Barbaroso: in his hand

He shakes a naked lance of purest steel,

With sleeves turned up, and he before him wears

A motley garment, to preserve his clothes

From blood of those knights which he massacres,

And ladies gent: without his door doth hang

A copper bason, on a prickant spear;

At which, no sooner gentle knights can knock,

But the shrill sound fierce Barbaroso hears,

And rushing forth, brings in the errant knight,

And sets him down in an enchanted chair:

Then with an engine, which he hath prepar'd

With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown,

Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin

He plants a brazen piece of mighty bore,

And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks,

Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument

With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill

The wretch's ears with a most hideous noise.

Thus every knight adventurer he doth trim,

And now no creature dares encounter him.

Ralph. In God's name, I will fight with him, kind sir.

Go but before me to this dismal cave

Where this huge giant Barbaroso dwells,

And by that virtue that brave Rosiclere,

That wicked brood of ugly giants slew,

And Palmerin Frannarco overthrew:

I doubt not but to curb this traitor foul,

And to the devil send his guilty soul.

Host. Brave sprighted knight, thus far I will perform

This your request, I'll bring you within sight

Of this most loathsome place, inhabited

By a more loathsome man: but dare not stay,

For his main force swoops all he sees away.

Ralph. Saint George! set on, before march squire and page. [Exeunt.

Wife. George, dost think Ralph will confound the giant?

Cit. I hold my cap to a farthing he does. Why, Nell, I saw him wrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurl him.

Wife. Faith and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all things were answerable to his bigness. And yet they say there was a Scottishman higher than he, and that they two on a night met, and saw one another for nothing.

Cit. Nay, by your leave, Nell, Ninivie was better.

Wife. Ninivie, O that was the story of Joan and the Wall, was it not, George?

Cit. Yes, lamb.

Enter Mistress Merry-thought.

Wife. Look, George, here comes Mistress Merry-thought again, and I would have Ralph come and fight with the giant. I tell you true, I long to see't.

Cit. Good Mistress Merry-thought, be gone, I pray you for my sake; I pray you forbear a little, you shall have audience presently: I have a little business.

Wife. Mistress Merry-thought, if it please you to refrain your passion a little, till Ralph have dispatched the giant out of the way, we shall think ourselves much bound to thank you. I thank you, good Mistress Merry-thought. [Exit Mistress Merry-thought.

Enter a Boy.

Cit. Boy, come hither, send away Ralph and this master giant quickly.

Boy. In good faith, sir, we cannot; you'll utterly spoil our play, and make it to be hissed, and it cost money; you will not suffer us to go on with our plots. I pray, gentlemen, rule him.

Cit. Let him come now and dispatch this, and I'll trouble you no more.

Boy. Will you give me your hand of that?

Wife. Give him thy hand, George, do, and I'll kiss him; I warrant thee the youth means plainly.

Boy. I'll send him to you presently. [Exit Boy.

Wife. I thank you, little youth; faith the child hath a sweet breath. George, but I think it be troubled with the worms; Carduus Benedictus and mare's milk were the only thing in the world for it. Oh, Ralph's here, George! God send thee good luck, Ralph!

Enter Ralph, Host, Squire and Dwarf.

Host. Puissant knight, yonder his mansion is,

Lo, where the spear and copper bason are,

Behold the string on which hangs many a tooth,

Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandering knights;

I dare not stay to sound, he will appear. [Exit Host.

Ralph. O faint not, heart: Susan, my lady dear,

The cobbler's maid in Milk Street, for whose sake

I take these arms, O let the thought of thee

Carry thy knight through all adventurous deed,

And in the honour of thy beauteous self,

May I destroy this monster Barbaroso.

Knock, squire, upon the bason till it break

With the shrill strokes, or till the giant speak.

Enter Barbaroso.

Wife. O George, the giant, the giant! Now, Ralph, for thy life!

Bar. What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares

So rudely knock at Barbaroso's cell,

Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?

Ralph. I, traitorous caitiff, who am sent by fate

To punish all the sad enormities

Thou hast committed against ladies gent,

And errant knights, traitor to God and men.

Prepare thyself, this is the dismal hour

Appointed for thee to give strict account

Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.

Bar. Foolhardy knight, full soon thou shalt aby

This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, [He takes down his pole.

And lo, upon that string thy teeth shall hang;

Prepare thyself, for dead soon shalt thou be.

Ralph. Saint George for me! [They fight.

Bar. Gargantua for me!

Wife. To him, Ralph, to him: hold up the giant, set out thy leg before, Ralph!

Cit. Falsify a blow, Ralph, falsify a blow; the giant lies open on the left side.

Wife. Bear't off, bear't off still; there, boy. Oh, Ralph's almost down, Ralph's almost down!

Ralph. Susan, inspire me, now have up again.

Wife. Up, up, up, up, up, so, Ralph; down with him, down with him, Ralph!

Cit. Fetch him over the hip, boy.

Wife. There, boy; kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Ralph!

Cit. No, Ralph, get all out of him first.

Ralph. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end

Thy treachery hath brought thee; the just gods,

Who never prosper those that do despise them,

For all the villanies which thou hast done

To knights and ladies, now have paid thee home

By my stiff arm, a knight adventurous.

But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul

To sad Avernus, whither it must go,

What captives hold'st thou in thy sable cave?

Bar. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.

Ralph. Go, squire and dwarf, search in this dreadful cave,

And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.

[Exeunt Squire and Dwarf.

Bar. I crave for mercy as thou art a knight,

And scorn'st to spill the blood of those that beg.

Ralph. Thou showest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any;

Prepare thyself, for thou shalt surely die.

Enter Squire, leading one winking, with a bason under his chin.

Squire. Behold, brave knight, here is one prisoner,

Whom this wild man hath used as you see.

Wife. This is the wisest word I hear the squire speak.

Ralph. Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd,

That I may give him condign punishment.

1st Knight. I am a knight that took my journey post

Northward from London, and in courteous wise,

This giant train'd me to his loathsome den,

Under pretence of killing of the itch,

And all my body with a powder strew'd,

That smarts and stings; and cut away my beard,

And my curl'd locks wherein were ribands ty'd,

And with a water washt my tender eyes

(Whilst up and down about me still he skipt),

Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip'd

With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace,

I shall not dare to look a dog i' th' face.

Wife. Alas, poor knight. Relieve him, Ralph; relieve poor knights whilst you live.

Ralph. My trusty squire, convey him to the town,

Where he may find relief; adieu, fair knight. [Exit Knight.

Enter Dwarf, leading one with a patch over his nose.

Dwarf. Puissant Knight of the Burning Pestle hight,

See here another wretch, whom this foul beast

Hath scotch'd and scor'd in this inhuman wise.

Ralph. Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth,

And what hath been thy usage in this cave.

2nd Knight. I am a knight, Sir Partle is my name,

And by my birth I am a Londoner,

Free by my copy, but my ancestors

Were Frenchmen all; and riding hard this way,

Upon a trotting horse, my bones did ache,

And I, faint knight, to ease my weary limbs,

Light at this cave, when straight this furious fiend,

With sharpest instrument of purest steel,

Did cut the gristle of my nose away,

And in the place this velvet plaster stands.

Relieve me, gentle knight, out of his hands.

Wife. Good Ralph, relieve Sir Partle, and send him away, for in truth his breath stinks.

Ralph. Convey him straight after the other knight. Sir Partle, fare you well.

3rd Knight. Kind sir, good night. [Exit.

[Cries within.

Man. Deliver us!

Wom. Deliver us!

Wife. Hark, George, what a woful cry there is. I think some one is ill there.

Man. Deliver us!

Wom. Deliver us!

Ralph. What ghastly noise is this? Speak, Barbaroso,

Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.

Bar. Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep.

Send lower down into the cave,

And in a tub that's heated smoking hot,

There may they find them, and deliver them.

Ralph. Run, squire and dwarf, deliver them with speed.

[Exeunt Squire and Dwarf.

Wife. But will not Ralph kill this giant? Surely I am afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt as ever he did.

Cit. Not so, mouse, neither, if he could convert him.

Wife. Ay, George, if he could convert him; but a giant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a witch, that had the devil's mark about her, God bless us, that had a giant to her son, that was call'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire. Didst never hear it, George?

Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of lotion in his hand, and the Dwarf leading a woman, with diet bread and drink.

Cit. Peace, Nell, here come the prisoners.

Dwarf. Here be these pined wretches, manful knight,

That for these six weeks have not seen a wight.

Ralph. Deliver what you are, and how you came

To this sad cave, and what your usage was?

Man. I am an errant knight that followed arms,

With spear and shield, and in my tender years

I strucken was with Cupid's fiery shaft,

And fell in love with this my lady dear,

And stole her from her friends in Turnball Street,

And bore her up and down from town to town,

Where we did eat and drink, and music hear;

Till at the length at this unhappy town

We did arrive, and coming to this cave,

This beast us caught, and put us in a tub,

Where we this two months sweat, and should have done

Another month if you had not relieved us.

Wom. This bread and water hath our diet been,

Together with a rib cut from a neck

Of burned mutton; hard hath been our fare.

Release us from this ugly giant's snare.

Man. This hath been all the food we have receiv'd;

But only twice a day, for novelty,

He gave a spoonful of this hearty broth [Pulls out a syringe.

To each of us, through this same slender quill.

Ralph. From this infernal monster you shall go,

That useth knights and gentle ladies so.

Convey them hence. [Exeunt Man and Woman.

Cit. Mouse, I can tell thee, the gentlemen like Ralph.

Wife. Ay, George, I see it well enough. Gentlemen, I thank you all heartily for gracing my man Ralph, and I promise you, you shall see him oftener.

Bar. Mercy, great knight, I do recant my ill,

And henceforth never gentle blood will spill.

Ralph. I give thee mercy, but yet thou shalt swear

Upon my burning pestle to perform

Thy promise utter'd.

Bar. I swear and kiss.

Ralph. Depart then, and amend.

Come, squire and dwarf, the sun grows towards his set,

And we have many more adventures yet. [Exeunt.

Cit. Now Ralph is in this humour, I know he would ha' beaten all the boys in the house, if they had been set on him.

Wife. Ay, George, but it is well as it is. I warrant you the gentlemen do consider what it is to overthrow a giant. But look, George, here comes Mistress Merry-thought, and her son Michael. Now you are welcome, Mistress Merry-thought; now Ralph has done, you may go on.

Enter Mistress Merry-thought and Michael.

Mist. Mer. Mick, my boy.

Mick. Ay forsooth, mother.

Mist. Mer. Be merry, Mick, we are at home now, where I warrant you, you shall find the house flung out of the windows. Hark! hey dogs, hey, this is the old world i'faith with my husband. I'll get in among them, I'll play them such lesson, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again. Why, Master Merry-thought, husband, Charles Merry-thought!

Old Mer. [within.] "If you will sing and dance and laugh,

And holloa, and laugh again;

And then cry, there boys, there; why then,

One, two, three, and four,

We shall be merry within this hour."

Mist. Mer. Why, Charles, do you not know your own natural wife? I say, open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with you. You are a gentleman, Charles, and an old man, and father of two children; and I myself, though I say it, by my mother's side, niece to a worshipful gentleman, and a conductor; he has been three times in his Majesty's service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his journey.

Old Mer. "Go from my window, love, go;

Go from my window, my dear,

The wind and the rain will drive you back again,

You cannot be lodgéd here."

Hark you, Mistress Merry-thought, you that walk upon adventures, and forsake your husband because he sings with never a penny in his purse; what, shall I think myself the worse? Faith no, I'll be merry. You come not here, here's none but lads of mettle, lives of a hundred years and upwards; care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them warble,

"Heigh-ho, my heart is heavy."

Mist. Mer. Why, Master Merry-thought, what am I that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? Am I not your fellow-feeler, as we may say, in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? Have I not brought you children? Are they not like you, Charles? Look upon thine own image, hard-hearted man; and yet for all this——

Old Mer. [within.] "Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy,

Begone, my love, my dear;

The weather is warm,

'Twill do thee no harm,

Thou canst not be lodged here."

Be merry, boys, some light music, and more wine.

Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope, George, is he?

Cit. What if he be, sweetheart?

Wife. Marry if he be, George, I'll make bold to tell him he's an ingrant old man to use his wife so scurvily.

Cit. What, how does he use her, honey?

Wife. Marry come up, Sir Sauce-box; I think you'll take his part, will you not? Lord, how hot are you grown; you are a fine man, an' you had a fine dog, it becomes you sweetly.

Cit. Nay, prithee Nell, chide not; for as I am an honest man, and a true Christian grocer, I do not like his doings.

Wife. I cry you mercy then, George; you know we are all frail, and full of infirmities. D'ye hear, Master Merry-thought, may I crave a word with you?

Old Mer. [within.] Strike up lively, lads.

Wife. I had not thought in truth, Master Merry-thought, that a man of your age and discretion, as I may say, being a gentleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions, could have used so little respect to the weakness of his wife; for your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yoke-fellow, with whose help you draw through the mire of this transitory world. Nay, she is your own rib. And again——

Old Mer. "I come not hither for thee to teach,

I have no pulpit for thee to preach,

As thou art a lady gay."

Wife. Marry with a vengeance! I am heartily sorry for the poor gentlewoman; but if I were thy wife, i'faith, gray beard, i'faith——

Cit. I prithee, sweet honeysuckle, be content.

Wife. Give me such words that am a gentlewoman born, hang him, hoary rascal! Get me some drink, George, I am almost molten with fretting. Now beshrew his knave's heart for it.

Old Mer. Play me a light lavalto. Come, be frolic, fill the good fellows wine.

Mist. Mer. Why, Master Merry-thought, are you disposed to make me wait here. You'll open, I hope; I'll fetch them that shall open else.

Old Mer. Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you something, if not——

Song.

You are no love for me, Marget,

I am no love for you.

Come aloft, boys, aloft.

Mist. Mer. Now a churl's fist in your teeth, sir. Come, Mick, we'll not trouble him, a shall not ding us i' th' teeth with his bread and his broth, that he shall not. Come, boy, I'll provide for thee, I warrant thee. We'll go to Master Venterwels the merchant; I'll get his letter to mine host of the Bell in Waltham, there I'll place thee with the tapster; will not that do well for thee, Mick? And let me alone for that old rascally knave, your father; I'll use him in his kind, I warrant ye.

Wife. Come, George, where's the beer?

Cit. Here, love.

Wife. This old fumigating fellow will not out of my mind yet. Gentlemen, I'll begin to you all, I desire more of your acquaintance, with all my heart. Fill the gentlemen some beer, George.