ACT TWOn4341
2.1
FITCHOW enters.n1834

179FitchowThe strangeness of this gentleman’s action will not out of my mind yet. Sir Philip could not but have a hand in it. Does he repent his bargain already and desire to be quit with loss of his earnestn535gg504? ’Tis but his faith and trothgg505.
WIGEON [and] ANVIL enter.

180WigeonSister, where are you? My governor and I are come to wait upon you in Sir Philip Luckless’s coach. It waits at door for you; and what to do, think you?

181FitchowI cannot tell. Perhaps to invite me forth into the air of Hyde Parkn11649 or Marylebonen264; or else —

182WigeonOr else me no ‘or elses’, sister; you cannot guess it. And I was a fool to ask you the question, now I think on’t.

183FitchowThat was well remembered, brother.

184WigeonSister, you are to be a lady within this half-hour. Your knight is ready, so is the parson too. My governor here knows.

185AnvilYes, lady; and that he entreats you to bear with the suddenness of the occasion, which he protests deeply urges him to be married presently, desiring you not to trouble yourself in examination of his reasons, for upon his honesty and honour the end of it is for good to you both. Come, sweet madam — now I am bold to give you your due title — your knight is ready present on his adventuresn269, d’ye hear, and ’tis only you that he seeks to encounter.

186Wigeon   [Aside]   There’s a jest, now, but she understands it not. He makes her an infidel, a wild beast or a monster, by that word ‘encounter’. What do knight-adventurers encounter else? Look all the Mirrorn270 over. He’ll encounter her. Oh, the wit of a governor!

187Anvil’Tis as I say, Madam, d’ye hear? The good fit’s come on him.

188Wigeon   [Aside]   Ever at the tail of his ‘d’ye hear’, I am sure to smell a jest: ‘the fit’s come on him’!

189Fitchow   [Aside]   This sudden importunity confirms my former doubt. He thinks his scarecrow will make me keep off now; but he is cozenedgg1611.   [To ANVIL]   Well, sir. He shall find me obedient to his hand. I am in all prepared to meet his purposes.   [To WIGEON]   Though, brother, I had thought to [have] had conference this morning with Sir Paul Squelch touching a match for you.

190WigeonFor me, sister? Ha’ you found out a wife for me? Ha’ you? Pray, speak; ha’ you?

191FitchowAnd a good match too, brother: Sir Paul’s niece, on whom he, being childless, means to bestow a large dowry.

192WigeonBy my faith, and he may do’t. He is rich, governor; one of the best ten i’ th’ hundred men about this townn11653.

193FitchowHe is a right good man.   [Calls offstage]   Within there.
HOWDEE enters


Bid Flapsn265, your fellown4338, bring my fan and mask.HOWDEE exit[s].

194AnvilIs he bounteous and liberal, ha? Does he make large suppersn271 and lend money? D’ye hear? Is he good at that?

195WigeonNay, there you mistake, governor. A good man i’the city is not called after his good deeds, but the known weight of his purse. One whose name any usurer can read without spectacles; one that can take up more with two fingers and a thumb upon the Exchangen272 than the great man at court can lift with both his hands; one that is good only in riches and wears nothing rich about him, but the gout or a thumb-ringn273 with his grandsire’s sheepmark or grannam’s butter-print on’t, to seal bagsn274, acquittancesgg465, and counterpanesgg457.
[FLAPS the chamber] maid [and] HOWDEE enter with mask and fan.

196AnvilA butter-print?

197WigeonAy, ’twere a cunning herald could find better armsn275 for some of ’em. Though I have heard Sir Paul Squelch protest he was a gentleman and might quarter a coatn276 by his wife’s side. Yet I know he was but a graziergg466 when he left the country; and my lord, his father, whistled to a team of horsesn325 (they were his own, indeed.) But now he is right worshipful, and I would I had his niece unsight and unseengg1612, i’faith, for her money’s sake. You never heard me ask if she were fair or handsome, d’ye mark that, sister? My father’s rule right! And if I be not a true Wigeon, God forgi’me, I think he was none.

198FitchowBut she is very fair, brother, and very handsome, and the prettiest, innocent, country thing withalgg1607. Do I want nothing here?

199WigeonAy, now you bring me to bed, sister.

200FlapsYour mask fits well, forsooth.

201FitchowBut where’s my wimplegg467, forsooth?

202FlapsUpon the cupboard’s head, pray. Humphrey, fetch it.HOWDEE exits.

203WigeonHe lives not that loves a country thing like me. Alas, none loves a country thing like me. And though I am a cockneyn327 and was never further than Hammersmithn11654, I have read The Countryman’s Commonwealthn328, and can discourse of socagegg468 and tenure, freehold, copyhold, lease, demeansgg469, fee-simplegg470 and fee-tailgg471, plowing, hedging, dikinggg472, grubbinggg473, occupying any country thing whatsoever, and take as much pleasure in’t as the best clown born of ’em all.

204FitchowAnd she is very young, not above fifteen, brother. How this fellown4338 stays!   [To FLAPS]   Go, you.[FLAPS the chamber]maid exit[s].

205AnvilAnd that’s a safe age for a maid in the country, d’ye hear?

206WigeonPardon me, governor, I do hear and not hear thee at this time.

207FitchowAnd sings and speaks so pretty northernly, they say.

208AnvilIs she northern, d’ye hear? Will she not shrink i’the wettingn329?

209WigeonGovernor, I know thou spokest a jest now by thy ‘d’ye hear’: but prithee, forgive me, I cannot applaud, nor mark thee at this time.
HOWDEE enters with a wimblegg474.

210FitchowWhat makes you stay so? I fear you have been among my sweetmeatsgg475.

211HowdeeShe said it was upon the cupboard and it was under the cupboard.

212FitchowIs this my wimple? Do you bring carpenter’s tools to dress me withall?n536
[FLAPS enters with a wimple.]

213FlapsHere is your wimple, forsooth.

214Fitchow   [To HOWDEE]   I shall teach you to know a difference between gentlewoman’s geargg476 and carpenter’s tools, I shall.

215WigeonNay, she is so vexed now! Dear sister, to the country lass again. You said she spoke and sung northernly. I have a great many southern songsn330 already. But northern airsn331gg477 nips it dead. ‘York, York, for my money!’n332

216FitchowYes, brother, she is northern and speaks so; for she has ever lived in the country, till this last week her uncle sent for her up to make her his child, out of the bishopricgg506 of Durham.

217WigeonBishop nor bishopric shall hold her from me.

218FitchowAnd brother —

219WigeonSister, no more; though I have never seen hern4339. No bishopric i’the land from me shall win her. If you will go and clap hands with your knight, come. I would see you matched first, because that will add some honour to the Wigeons when myself shall be brother to a lady. I shall write first of that name. And then am I no sooner married, governor, but we will set our travels afootn4340: to know countries, and nations, sects and factions, men and manners, language and behaviour.
        And so in height of compliment grow complete,n1835
        More goes to making of a man than meat.All exit.
2.2n345
TRAINWELL [and] CONSTANCE enter.

220TrainwellPray tell me, and tell me truly. What is the most has passed between you? If it be the main loss of your maidenhead, it shall ne’er go further: therefore, let me know it.

221ConstanceAs I live, Mistress Trainwell, all that e’er he had o’me, was but a kiss. But I mun tell yeen333, I wished it a thoosand, thoosand till him.

222TrainwellHow often have you seen him?

223ConstanceFeath,n4516 but that bare eance nothern334, and yourseln were by too. Trow ye that I’d not tell ye and twere maer. By my conscience, Mistress Trainwell, I leen335 not.

224TrainwellThat once that I saw him with you —your uncle was there too, in the orchard — but last week.

225ConstanceVary true. Mine uncle was then by too. And he brought Sir Philip to see his orchard. And what did he then do, trow you, but tuke me thus by th’ haundn4342, and thus he kust men4517   [Takes Mistress TRAINWELL by the hand and kisses her on it.]   He said I were a deaftn336 lass, but there he feigned. But for my life I could not but think he war the likestn337 man that I had seen with mine eyne; and could not devaise the thing I had might be unbeggenn338 by him. Then by and by as we walked, he asked mine unclen4512 gingg1613 he would give him me to make a lady tilln339 him. And by my trouth, Mistress Trainwell, I lee not, I blushed and luk’d upon him as I would fain a hed it so. Mine uncle said ‘yes’, and Sir Philip shuke my haund, and, gude feath, my heart joyed at it. God gingg1614 the priest had been by! But I thought all sure enough, and would not ha’ sold my part for the Spanish Lady’s joincturen340. But straight anon mine uncle and he fell on other talk; of lords and ladies, and many fond like things. I minded not, for I is weell sure this keept me waking ere sinen1836. And, God pardon me,n4513 what I misthought every hour i’ th’ night!.

226TrainwellHow have you made me wrong this gentleman? To challenge him as if he had been your due upon this idle compliment? When I undertook the message I presumed — for so your words did intimate to me — you had been sure, as fast as faith could bind you, man and wife. Where was my discretion? Now I perceive this was but common courtshipgg485 and no assurance of a marriage promise.

227ConstanceI wot not what he meant. But I is weell sure, I’ll ne’er be sure to ony man but he. And if he love me not as weell, God pardon him. For I meant him none ill.

228TrainwellI know not how to counsel or comfort you until I hear him speak. My man tells me he appointed him to meet and bring him to you about this hour. Poor heart, I pity thee. Before thou come to half my years thou wilt forget to love half so truly.
BEAVIS enters.

229BeavisMistress.

230TrainwellOh, are you come? Where’s the knight?

231BeavisHe stays below, and willed me to come up first to make his passage clear and secure.

232TrainwellThat was discretionn537.

233BeavisRather fear, I think. For he asked me if the house were not much haunted with roarersgg478 or swaggerersgg479, poniards and pistols; whether there were not an assurergg480 for it as upon the Exchangen342, as if his life were upon hazard; whether a man might come on without loss of credit, and off without need of a surgeon? Much odd talk he delivers, that in my conceit bewrays at once both a lascivious and cowardly disposition, and upon my understanding cannot be so generous or nobly spirited as he is received, do what you will.

234Trainwell   [Aside]   I suspect something.

235ConstanceWill he not come, Mistress Trainwell?

236TrainwellYes, sweetheart. But go you to your chambern398 and let me have a word before you see him.   [To BEAVIS]   Go, call him in.   [To CONSTANCE]   Do so, sweetheart. I’ll not be long.

237ConstanceI’ll do ought you bid me. God gin I saw him eance.CONSTANCE [TRAINWELL, and BEAVIS] exit.n1219
ANVIL [and] BEAVIS enter.n1220

238AnvilA place of fair promising! How have I lived that never discovered this place beforen538? This place royaln1167! But sought my recreation in by-lanes and sluttish corners, unsavoury alleys and ditchsides, when here the whole house is perfumed. An earl might think it his own lodging; ladies might come to see the picturesn343 and not blush to go in or out unmasked.
TRAINWELL enters.

239Beavis   [Gestures towards TRAINWELL.]   Sir, will you speak to my mistress?   [Aside]   The man is transported sure!

240AnvilI understand thy office leads thee no further; thy pains are abroad and below stairs. Here, honest Fetch.   [Hands BEAVIS money]   Look thee, here’s the poor price of a new pair of shoes; take it. Descendn1837, and execute thy duty.BEAVIS exit[s].

241Trainwell   [Aside]   Bless me, this is another man! More abuse yet?

242AnvilNow, gentlewoman, to you. What fees belong to your key?n344 Come, where’s the bed, where’s the partyn1171gg1194? Here’s the man, here’s the money.   [Hands TRAINWELL money]   Chunk, chunk, you old gamestergg409, do’st hear? Here’s half a piecegg80 to buy thee complexiongg482, sackgg483 or aqua-vitaegg484, what thou lik’st.

243TrainwellWhat are you, sir, I pray?

244AnvilFaith, one that’s a little ill-givengg507 at this time. Where’s the piecegg508? Here are the piecesgg80 I tell thee.

245TrainwellWhat piece, sir? If you can imagine what you are, where you are, what you would have, or where you would be, I pray tell me, sir. I’ll do the best I can to satisfy you. On my discretion will I, sir.

246AnvilGive me but a little space to wonder at thy strange demands and I will tell thee, good Discretion.n4514   [Aside]n1168   If I should purchase a broken coxcomb or bruised ribs now for mistaking another man’s habit, the smart were only mine. The villain swore to me his master was sent for; and that his master swore this was a bawd to his choice whore, newly entertained; and that she knew not him, and might well mistake me for him. On which presumption I have waded thus far and if I stick in the mud or be driven back by a tempest I am armedn1169.   [To TRAINWELL]   ’Tis not the first time I have been weather-beaten or dry-beatengg1615, d’ye hear?


248AnvilYou do not know me or at least not remember me?

249TrainwellIf I err therein, sir, I hope your pardon. For as you shall reveal yourself, I shall either repent me of my obliviongg510 or accuse you of unadvisednessgg511.

250Anvil   [Aside]   She speaks like the wife of an orator that could dictate her husband’s speeches!n539   [To TRAINWELL]   Were not you this morning at Sir Philip Luckless’s lodging? Spoke not you with him? Sent you not for him afterwards to repair hither to the partygg1194? And know you not the man?

251Trainwell   [Aside]   Oh, infinite abuse!   [To ANVIL]   Sir, I cry you mercy. I hope you will pardon my weak-sightedness. The world’s bad, and we love to deal securely. Could not your worship make yourself known sooner? Please you to entertain yourself here a while. I will instantly provide for your better welcome.   [Aside]   O horrible indignity! But if porters and cudgels may be had for moneyn540 and I fitgg1616 you not, let me lose my discretion. I am furnished with blanketsn541 already —[TRAINWELL] exit[s].n542

252Anvil‘I will instantly provide for your better welcome!’ Will you so? Twill pass; and by this light I think for my master’s jest I will recover my chargesgg1617 and gain over and above for three returnsgg930 more with the bare repetition of it out of one man’s purse, the wigeongg436. My jests are his nutriment, and my wit is his own; he pays too, duly, for it. If the wench be but pleasing, now, to my expectation, my felicity is crowned.
[TRAINWELL and CONSTANCE enter above.]n4343

253TrainwellOh, child, we are undone.

254ConstanceMarry, God shield, Mistress Trainwell. Is he geanen543? Must I not see him?

255TrainwellAlas, it is not he, but some villain sent by him to vex and spite you. One that persuades himself we are of those common creatures that sell their honesties.

256ConstanceHeaven bless us, and give us leave to deen544 first. Can he be so unkaind, to scorn me so? Woe is me.

257TrainwellHe is so dishonourable. But I will fit his undertakergg512, what e’er he be. Look you, is that he, think you?

258ConstanceOh, weell a near, Mistress Trainwell! Sir Philip is the likestn337 man that e’er you saw days o’your lifen546. This lozeln545gg513 dow not. Nor would he send him; so trimgg990 a man cannot have sike bad purpose.
BEAVIS enters [above.]

259BeavisMistress, there’s a gentleman, one Master Triedwell, that says he is Sir Philip’s kinsman, will by all means speak with him.

260TrainwellSweetheart, can you dissemble your sorrow with a song to pass a little time? I’ll down and sift out the subtlety of this deceit.[TRAINWELL and BEAVIS exit from the above.]n1176

261AnvilThere is no government under the sun like the politicgg514 government of a bawdy-house.
[CONSTANCE] sings above.

262ConstanceYou say my love is but a man,n4366
             But I can find more odds,
             ’Twixt him and others than I can,
             Find between him and Gods
             He has in’s eye
             Such majesty.
             His shape is so divine
             That were I owner of the world,
             He only should be mine.[CONSTANCE exits from the above.]

263AnvilSweet prologue to the insuing interlude!
BEAVIS enters.

Dost hear me, honest fellow? Was this the party’sgg1194 voice?

264BeavisOnly hers, upon my sincerity, sir.

265AnvilExcellent! She has raised my desire above her notes. Why am I thus ravished and yet delayed?

266BeavisSir, for that my mistress craves your pardon. ’Tis not her neglect that works upon your patience, but the necessity to rid a troublesome Lord or two out of the house, before the partygg1194 can appear to you. But please you to obscure yourself in this dark closetn1177 while I convey them hence, and then, instantly, the top gallantgg515 of pleasure shall crown your main-mast, she says.

267AnvilOh, how her wit and care revives me! From hence forth she is my bawd forever. My Discretion! But are they wholesome Lordsn547, sirrah?

268Beavis’Tis no matter for anything they did here, sir, I warrant you. In, quickly, pray sir.

269AnvilMust I be locked in?

270BeavisYou cannot be safe else, sir.

271AnvilThe politicgg514 government of this little commonwealth![Enters into the closet.]n1177[BEAVIS exits.]
TRIEDWELL [and] TRAINWELL enter.

272TriedwellIndeed, lady, I am so far from being in any plot herein, that I protest it was merely by his outside, and that in the doubtful light of the eveningn4344, that I could guess ’twas he. And had he been denied, I had gone well satisfied, it had been some other man; which if it prove, and so his name be abused, or if it be he indeed, though hitherto my most respected cousin, that offers such an outrage as you deliver it to be. I am so much a friend to honesty that, let me but see the man or beast, I’ll do the fair office of a gentleman to right you. Indeed, lady, I will.

273TrainwellYou profess nobly, sir. First, will it please you see this gentlewoman, so much the servant of your kinsman? What she is I have told you. Only I present her to your judgement, whether her outward seeming may deserve such scorn?
CONSTANCE enters.

274TriedwellAlas, fair lady, would they injure you?

275ConstanceYea feath, and scorn me too sir. Ill betide them. But and you do me help and make Sir Philip love me, God reward you.

276TriedwellAnd has your youth and beauty placed your love on him?

277ConstanceGude feath, sir, I may not say how weell I love him. But were I one of ne'er a mickle, heest eene have alln548. And yet he loves me not.

278TriedwellIndeed, ’tis pitiful. Weep not, sweet lady. He shall love ye.

279ConstanceNow God’s benisongg516 light o’ye for it.

280TriedwellShow me the mischief that hath abused us all. Can you conceal him longer?

281TrainwellIn thus much to conjure you by your manhood to do nothing that law may question to your, or our, disadvantage. We shall not need for our own right to do ourselves misdeed. Therefore take this in hand —[Hands him] a rope’s end.n1221

282TriedwellYou do instruct me well. Pray, let me see him.
ANVIL [comes] out of the closet.

283AnvilOh, for a large window, one of the last editionn549, to leap out with half my life or limbs!

284ConstanceLo’ye, lo’ye; the worst like man to Sir Philip ye saw in all your days.

285TriedwellMischievous devil! What magical madness conjured you into this shape? Indeed, I’ll conjure you out on’t.[TRIEDWELL beats ANVIL throughout this exchange.]

286AnvilOh, hold; for heaven’s sake, hold! I’ll confess!
Beats him.

287TriedwellNay, indeed, I’ll beat you a little first; you’ll confess the better. ’Twill come the easier from you. ’Tis a good preparativegg517.

288AnvilOh, oh; I’ll confess anything!

289TriedwellNo, sir, not anything. But the truth, the truth, sir.

290AnvilThe truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me —n550

291TriedwellYou would be swearing now, would you? There’s for that.

292AnvilNo, indeed, indeed, and indeed, la, I will not.

293TrainwellGood sir, no more. What may this poor thing be that bravestgg518 it so but now?

294TriedwellI’ll tell you, lady: the most notorious, base, beaten rascal about the town. ’Twere lost breath to say more by him. He is as you see. Only his name is Anvil, and they that know him not call him ‘Captain’n592.

295Beavisn1175Anvil? Pray, sir, let me try my bladen593 on him too.

296TriedwellI pray thee do to save me a labour, for he is not half beaten yet.
BEAVIS beats him.

297AnvilOh, oh, ladies, speak for me! Ha’ you no mercy?

298TrainwellHold. No more.
[TRIEDWELL and BEAVIS cease beating ANVIL.]

299TriedwellWell, sir, thank the ladies. Now, sir, put this lady’s favourn551 here in your pocket   [Hands him the rope's end]   and keep it there till I call for it. And, mark what I say, if ever I find thee without this instrument, or the like, when I shall call for it to beat thee, mark me indeed, I’ll beat thee dead. And now to your examination. How got your rotten muttonshipn552gg519 into this lion’s casen553? Was it by the owner’s knowledge? Was the master of these clothes privy to your undertaking? Answer, sirrah, bona fide, aye or no.

300AnvilNo, upon my life. Only his man abused me for my money.

301TriedwellWhat presumption made you think so vilely of these gentlewomen?

302AnvilSir Philip’s own words to his man upon a letter this lady delivered to him this morning.

303TriedwellThe error’s found. Her name you say is Constance, which likewise is the name of a prostituted strumpet with whom, ’tis thought, the wantonness of his youth hath held former familiarity; and now it seems makes doubtn554, imagining that letter to be hers, that she pretends a claim to him.

304AnvilRight, sir; which he took so contemptuously that instantly he resolved to marry the widow, Mistress Fitchow, and was this morning married privately in a chamber, within an hour after you saw him.

305ConstanceAnd I undone then.

306Triedwell   [Aside]   And I, if it be so.

307AnvilIt is undoubtedly true. I saw them married and dined with them at his lodging, where they will sup too. But after supper they go to her house in the town — to bed.

308TriedwellThis foul mistaking we shall all repent, if we prevent not what may issue from it.

309TrainwellAlas, sir, all will be too late.

310TriedwellWill you but trust my service for your honour?

311TrainwellWe will wait on you, sir.

312Triedwelln555Then, sir, for this time you shall be reprievedn1838
        From further penance. Rise and be our guide.
        But keep your fear still, for if all our art
        Miscarry, thou art sure to share the smartgg1619.TRIEDWELL [TRAINWELL, CONSTANCE, and ANVIL] exit.
2.3
PATE [and] HOWDEE enter.

313PateBrother Humphrey, take my hand and word for thy instructions. I will acquaint thee with an old lady’s usher in the Strandn11382 that shall give thee thy gaitgg520, thy postures, thy language, thy habit, and thy whole charge in so plain a method, that thou shalt instantly start up as pretty a gentleman-usher, none dispraised, as any between Temple Bar and Charing Crossn557. Marry, further I cannot promise you. But prithee tell mee. Is our lady of so hot a temper and stately carriage as she is reputed?

314HowdeeOh, aye, brother. She must command all or all shall smokegg1620 for’t. She did so in my old Master’s days I am sure; and he glad of peace at that raten558 too.

315PateBut how is she to her servants? Bountiful and free?

316HowdeeYes, both of her voice and hands.

317PateShe will not strike, will she?

318HowdeeAnd she could bite as well; the rankest jadegg532 that e’er was curriedgg533 could not come near hern595.

319PateHeaven be good to us! She ne’er struck thee, did she?

320Howdee’Tis no matter for that.

321PateNay, brother, you know we have vowed to be all one: the marriage hath united us. Prithee, tell me.

322HowdeeShe broke me a tooth once with a death’s-head ringn559 on her finger. It had like to ha’ cost me my life! It has been a true mementon560 to me ever since. Bobsgg521 o’the lips, tweaks by the nose, cuffs o’the ear, and trenchersgg522at my head in abundance.

323PateWill she throw too?

324HowdeeAnything she can lift. And makes us pay for all she breaks, though she break our heads or faces withall: fan-handles, looking-glasses, or anything.

325PateWe shall have a foul house on’t, I fear. But since it is too late, fight, dog; fight, bear! I’ll turn my Master loose to her. Here they come. By this light methinks they look as if they were fallen out alreadyn561.
LUCKLESS, FITCHOW, [FLAPS, a] waiting-woman, WIGEON, and
BULFINCH enter. At the other doorn1839 SQUELCH, NONSENSE, and BEAVIS.

326SquelchThough I were absent at the ceremony, I now bring my wishes of much joy.

327LucklessAnd not too late I hope, Sir Paul. We may yet carry them to bed with us.

328FitchowYou had been chiefly, sir, invited — had we not stolen a day from time — to have done a father’s partn596 at church, to which in your absence I entreated our worthy friend Master Apprehension Bulfinch here.

329SquelchMaster Bulfinch, I rejoice to meet you here directly. Look you, sir, do you know this young gentleman?

330BulfinchYes, sure, methinks I should know him. But I am sure I never saw him before. Ha—

331SquelchHave you forgot Sir Hercules?

332BulfinchI apprehend him to be Master Salamon Nonsense, son and heir to my right worthy friend, Sir Hercules Nonsense of Cornwall. If you be not he, sir, I am sure it is you. I may be deceived, but I am certain ’tis he.

333Luckless   [Aside]   He is doubtful, but yet he is sure he knows him. What a bulfinchn240 is this! Sure, ’tis his language they call bull-speakingn597.

334NonsenseYou say very well, sir. And never credit men600, as you knew my father, I would be very ready, as you know how duty binds, for, because it is a usual thing in these days, desiring the love and friendship, I protest and vow, sir, I should —

335Luckless   [Aside]   Most perfect nonsense! This is a finer youth than t’other. My wife’s acquaintances are most answerablegg536 to her kindredn606.

336Squelch’Tis so directly, Master Bulfinch, and I have brought him to town; I understand my niece is in your house, my lady bride. Is she employed in your chamber?

337FitchowShe is not here, sir. Is she, Howdee?

338HowdeeCertesgg1038 no, Madam.

339SquelchHow, not here?! Sirrah, what did you tell me?

340Beavis   [Aside]   What shall I say or do? I shall be hanged directly.

341SquelchHow was she accompanied?

342BeavisBy my mistress, sir, and two gentlemen of her acquaintance, whose names I know not.

343SquelchKnavery, villainy, and thievery! I smell it rank. She’s stolen; she’s gone directly.

344Wigeon’Tis indirectly, sir, if she be stolen. There your word fails you.

345SquelchIf she be in the land I will recover her. I hope I shall find as much right in law as a brokergg534 or a joinergg535.

346FitchowGood Sir Paul, I have not seen you thus distempered. What afflicts you?

347SquelchOh, Mistress Fitchow; my niece, my niece!

348WigeonHe’s mad, I think. Sir, you forget my sister is a Lady.

349SquelchShe’s lost, she’s stolen, and all my joy is gone. My niece, my Constance.

350Luckless   [Aside]   Constance!n598

351FitchowWho, your young niece that came lately out of the country?

352WigeonMy country thingn607, sister, that you promised me?

353SquelchPromised you? I am abused. I do suspect you accessories. Sir, I have purposed and promised her to this gentleman. And here I charge you to restore her me.

354WigeonAre you the man, sir, that must have her?

355NonsenseNever credit me, sir, if I have her or have her not to my knowledge.

356SquelchSir Philip, you are courteous and noble; as you will continue so, in opinion of honest men, let me have right.

357LucklessSir Paul, upon my faith, I am ignorant of any such wrong. And, for her part, should she fare amiss, I should suffer in her injury equally with yourself. For I profess to you, I did love the lass so well, and at the first sight, that had I not been otherwise allotted, and indeed contracted, to her from whom now there is no startinggg1621, she should have been my bride, if all my love and fortune might have won her.

358FitchowHad you spared this protestation, sir, you might have dissembled your love to me the better!

359LucklessDissemble?

360Fitchow’Tis said, sir.

361PateBy this hand, my lady’s jealous already.

362HowdeeBless us! What looks are these!

363SquelchSir, I must take my leave; this is no time to trouble you.

364LucklessNay, good sir, stay, and share in our ill banquet.    Cornets flourish.   n4317 Hark, some friend, I hope.   [To PATE]   Look sirrah.—PATE exit[s].

365FitchowSome of your old companions have brought you a fitgg215 of mirth, but if they enter to make a tavern of my house, I’ll add a voice to their consort shall drown all their fiddling.
PATE enters.

What are they?

366PateSome that come in gentle fashion to present a masquen605.

367FitchowLock up the doors and keep them out.HOWDEE exit[s].

368LucklessBreak them open and let them in.PATE exit[s].

369FitchowShall I not be master of my own house?n601

370LucklessAm not I the master of it and you?LUCKLESS exit[s].

371WigeonNay, sister —

372FitchowPassion of my heart.


374SquelchYou must allow of reasonable things.

375BulfinchBe contented. Sir Philip is a noble gentleman and a courtier and as I apprehend.

376WigeonI dare warrant you, sister, these are his friends, that come with their loves to congratulate his fortune. Speak, Master Nonsense. A speech of yours would do’t.

377NonsenseNever credit me, but I forsooth am of that opinion, that it is as it were. I protest and vow — I should be as sorry as any man —

378WigeonIf this were to be put into Latin now, which were the principal verb?

379FitchowMaster Nonsense, you have prevailed. You see I am content.   [Aside]   But what I purpose, Fate shall not preventn602.

380WigeonDid I not tell you?
LUCKLESS enters.

381LucklessMore lights, and let them enter. Gentlemen, take your places.   [Gestures to guests to sit down.]   Sir Paul, tonight forget your sorrow. So will I mine, though I renew’t tomorrow.   [Gestures to FITCHOW to sit down.]   Come, sit, sit. Mistress, please you.
[The guests, including FITCHOW, variously sit down.]

382FitchowYou wrong your honour, sir; your most humble handmaid.

383WigeonBrother, I told you always she had hasty humoursgg222, and as unreasonable as heart can wish but soon over. Now she’s as mild as any dove again.

384LucklessThen we are friends, and she’s my dove again.
Music.
The masquers enter.n4345 All in [masks, and bearing]n685willow garlandsn603, four men, four womenn604. The two first pairs are TRIEDWELL and CONSTANCE, ANVIL and TRAINWELL. Before the dance, CONSTANCE sings this song:
[sings.]

385ConstanceNor love nor fate dare I accuse,n4367
        For that my love did me refuse;
        But, oh, mine own unworthiness,
        That durst presume so micklegg539 bliss.
        It was too much for me to love
        A man so like the gods above;
        An angel’s shape, a saint-like voice,
        Are too divine for human choice.
        Oh, had I wishlygg537 given my heart,
        For to have loved him but in part;
        Sought only to enjoy his face,
        Or any one peculiar grace
         Of foot, of hand, of lip, or eye,n689
        I might have lived where now I die.
        But I presuming all to choose,
        Am now condemnèd all to lose.
[The masquers dance.]n675
At the end of the dance, TRIEDWELL and CONSTANCE whisper with ANVIL, each of them giving him a folded paper.

386Luckless’Tis well performed. Now we would gladly know, to whom we owe our thanks.

387AnvilThat I’ll deliver to you. Meanwhile, the rest desire they may withdraw a while.

388LucklessLight and all fair respect be given unto them.All the masquers but ANVIL exit.

389SquelchThe woman’s voice had much in’t like my niece.n684

390WigeonYour niece, Sir Paul?; ’od’sn678 me, I must go see her.

391LucklessNay, brother, give them all their free pleasures. By your leave, you shall stay.

392WigeonShall, shall I? I will then.

393AnvilNow to your patience I disclose myself.

394WigeonWhoop! My governor! Look you, sister! Look you, Sir Philip! Did not I always tell you he was the rarest wit i’the world? This was his own invention, I’ll be hanged else. Sweet governor, the conceitgg302 of the willown603 and why thou wearest it?

395AnvilMyself only to make the number in the dance suitable. And so did all the rest to fulfil the fashion; only two excepted that were the leaders and subject of the dance. The one, your cousin Triedwell who holds himself a lost lover, in that you, Madam, to whom his affection is wholly devoted, have made yourself incapable of him in being the lawful right of another. This paper shows him more at large.[Hands FITCHOW one of the folded pieces of paper.]

396Luckless   [Aside]   Is’t possible? Did he for that so earnestly dissuade me from her this morning?

397FitchowI never saw him before this day, nor he me. These are tricks and studied fooleries to abuse me—
[She] tears the paper.

398LucklessWho was the other?

399AnvilShe was your fair niece, Sir Paul; the most disconsolate beauty that e’er I saw.   [Hands LUCKLESS the other piece of folded paper.]   Giving herself for ever lost unto your love, Sir Philip, presuming you once promised her marriage, of which she made a claim this morning by her nurse whom you reviled by name of bawd, calling fair Constance ‘whore’; and, to her more despitegg543n679, hastened your marriage sooner by a day than you before intended with this lady.

400Luckless   [He reads the piece of paper.]   Constance! May that name in all other women be accursed beyond themselves. Hell itself could not have vapouredgg544 such an error forthn1841 as I am lost in. Constance! Why was that name made hers — that saint-like maid’s — when it brought to my mind a devil’s, nay worse a whore’s to whom before ’twas given?

401BulfinchSir Philip, and Madam, you apprehend these things as things done when they are not things in deed but as it were show and device, as by the sequel you may at large apprehend.

402SquelchI am of your mind, Master Bulfinch. And trust me, I am glad my niece was drawn into the witty conceitgg302, for which with a new gown I’ll thank her.
PATE enters.

403LucklessWhere is she? I will endure no longer till I see her.

404PateThe masquers are all gone, sir.

405LucklessGone, villain?

406PateThey took their coaches instantly and dispersed themselves by several waysn680. I had no commissiongg545 to stay them.

407Fitchow   [Aside]   Are you so sensible of her loss?n681FITCHOW exits with [FLAPS and HOWDEE]n4346.

408SquelchMy niece might, notwithstanding her lost love, have ta’en me home in her coach.

409LucklessYou shall have mine, Sir Paul, and my company so far to see her. And, whether their presentation were jest or earnestgg429, I will not rest till I be satisfied. My coach!   [To FITCHOW, who has in fact already left the stage]   I’ll make no stay, sweetheart.   [To the company]   She’s gone.

410WigeonExcellent, the bride’s stolen to bed.

411SquelchIt should be so. I like the custom well.

412BulfinchFor, if you apprehend it rightly, it expresseth duty in the woman to lie prepared for him; and love in the man not to be slackgg546 to embrace that duty.

413Wigeon   [Aside]   A pretty moral! A woman’s duty to lie down and a man’s love to get up. One may learn something of these old fellows every day.

414SquelchTherefore, no coach, no company, noble knight. Pursue your home occasionsn682gg547, and God gi’ye joy.

415LucklessNay, Sir Paul, I protest.

416SquelchNot a word more of it directly.

417WigeonTake me with you, good Sir Paul, to see your niece. I find Master Nonsense here very indifferent and I know ’twill be the greater joy to her to match but into the family of Sir Philip of which I am a half pillargg548 now. Besides, my sister made me half a promise of her in good faith, my governor’s my witness, and I have loved her ever since.

418SquelchBut you never saw her face!

419WigeonNo, but I’ll be hanged if I did not love her visorn683gg549 the best ere while, though I could not tell whose ’twas, nor which was which.

420SquelchGood Master Walter Wigeon, this is no time of night to dive into business of this depth. It is nestlinggg550 timen686 I take it. How think you, Master Bulfinch?

421BulfinchI apprehend it to be past 12 o’clock very near.

422SquelchTherefore, what your sister hath promised you let her perform if she cann687; meantime this gentleman is my choice. Come, Master Nonsense, you have had a long time of silence. Master Bulfinch?

423BulfinchI apprehend you, sir.

424LucklessWe’ll see you to the gate, by your leave.n688All exit.

Edited by Julie Sanders



n4341   ACT TWO Scene 1 opens in Fitchow's household, therefore picking straight up from the end of the first act. A little time appears to have passed, but Fitchow is still pondering Triedwell's visit and its possible meaning. She wonders if the whole thing could have been a test on the part of her husband-to-be. Her brother, Wigeon, and Captain Anvil enter with the news that Sir Philip Luckless has sent a coach to collect her and take her to be married immediately. Comic business follows in which Fitchow tries to prepare with the help (or hindrance) of her servants for the wedding ceremony. A discussion also ensues about the marriage Fitchow hopes to effect for her brother with Sir Paul Squelch's niece, Constance, who is the 'northern lass' of the play's title. She is currently resident in Squelch's London home and since he is childless he intends to settle a considerable dowry on her. This would make her a considerable 'catch' in financial as well as social terms, though Wigeon has also heard that she has a lovely singing and speaking voice, noted not least for its northern dialect. Although he has never seen her, Wigeon immediately decides that he will marry her and then commence his intended European travels. In the second scene the action moves to Sir Paul Squelch's residence and we see the northern lass for the first time. Constance is in the company of her nurse and confidant, Mistress Trainwell, and they are discussing the first time she met Sir Philip and the progress of her love and their supposed courtship since. The scene appears to take place in the gardens of the property, certainly in an exterior space, since later on Constance and Trainwell will retire to a balcony of the property to look down on Captain Anvil who has arrived at the house believing it to be a brothel and is clearly contemplating its exterior facade when he first speaks. It dawns on Trainwell during the course of her exchange with Constance that her young charge has completely over-read and over-determined the significance of her encounter with Sir Philip and that her own angry appearance at Luckless's house in Act 1 was very ill-judged. However, audiences do not note Constance down as a fool for this behaviour; rather, the scene reveals a touchingly innocent young woman, who is not at all au fait with London society and its customary practices. As Constance recalls the scene when she met Sir Philip in her uncle's orchard in flashback it becomes clear to us (and Trainwell) that she took an innocent kiss on the hand to be the equivalent of a betrothal in marriage, a 'hand fasting' as it was referred to in the early modern period and a version of which we have already heard Fitchow and Luckless have been involved in prior to their formal marriage ceremony (which the audience knows to be under way just as Constance is pouring out her heart to Trainwell). Beavis the servant to the household announces the arrival of Luckless at the property. He is very surprised at his behaviour, which is more akin to a 'roaring boy', an all too familiar swaggering type of gallant in Caroline London. Trainwell immediately suspects that all is not as it seems on the surface. When we see 'Sir Philip' outside the house it is Anvil, who, encouraged by Triedwell, mistakenly thinks he has come to the upmarket brothel presided over by Trainwell 'the bawd', as she was wrongly identified by Luckless in Act 1. Anvil will presumably be dressed in the red cloak and white feather mentioned in Act 1, thereby offering the audience visual assistance in making all these links. There is much amusement for the audience in watching Anvil persist in this misunderstanding and sharing his pompous asides with them. Constance sings to Anvil from the balcony, the first time in the play when we are also party to the beauty of her singing voice, which clearly enchants all those who hear it. Anvil's response is typically misplaced in that he comments on the skills of modern-day prostitutes. Beavis then asks him to hide in a closet to obscure his identity from other male visitors to the house in an action suggestive of farce. The visitor is, in fact, Triedwell, who stresses he had nothing to do with Anvil's appearance. Anvil is eventually exposed and subjected to a beating from both Triedwell and Beavis until the women intervene and he is instead employed to help them in their attempt to win Sir Philip for Constance. Triedwell is keen to achieve this end since he hopes to win Fitchow for himself, although at this point in the proceedings we the audience can only assume they plot in vain since the marriage of Luckless and Fitchow is apparently taking place at this very same moment offstage. Scene 3 finds us back in the Luckless residence after that same wedding has taken place. Pate and Howdee, servants attached to different households which now find themselves merged, discuss their new master and mistress. Howdee paints a particularly negative view of Fitchow as a demanding and often violent mistress (though we should note we never see actual proof of this assertion in the play). Luckless and his new wife arrive, along with wedding guests and others who have come to celebrate the marriage, including Sir Paul Squelch. Squelch introduces a young Cornish gentleman, Salamon Nonsense, who he hopes will be a good match in marriage for his niece. Wigeon is distraught since his appetite has been whetted to marry the northen lass. As all this discussion of Constance takes place in her absence, it dawns on Sir Philip that he has made a terrible mistake and confused the letter sent to him in Act 1 from the northern lass with a communication from a prostitute who he also knew by the name of Constance. He suggests that had he realised Squelch's niece held him in such affection he would have reconsidered his match with Fitchow. Understandably this does not go down well with Fitchow herself and the newlyweds have their first argument, one in which their relative servants become veritable pawns. It is announced that masquers have arrived at the household to celebrate the wedding, as was typical of well-to-do households at this time. The masques include Triedwell and Constance, as well as Trainwell and Anvil, all literally masked and bearing willow garlands symbolic of unrequited or rejected love. Constance delivers a song as part of the performance and the masquers dance. They give paper notes to the disguised Anvil before departing. Anvil remains behind, revealing his real identity to the group and then distributing the paper notes. Squelch remarks on the similarity of the singer to his niece Constance's singing voice but fails to make the direct link. Fitchow's note appears to contain a confession of love for her from Triedwell. Luckless is given another note from Constance - the similarity of the handwriting to the letter he read earlier in the day confirms his mistake. Luckless is desperate to see Constance, despite the fact he has just married someone else, and Fitchow is understandably furious and storms off to bed alone. Wigeon asks to be taken to see the northern lass too with Sir Paul and the guests depart the troubled household. [go to text]

n1834   FITCHOW enters. The taking of the act break at the point of Triedwell's exit from his remarkable duologue with Fitchow raises some questions since Fitchow seems still to be on stage when Act 2 commences. However, her use of the past tense when discussing Triedwell's strange behaviour suggests at least a little time has passed and therefore the modern editor needs to allow for her to exit at the end of 1.2 and re-enter here, still flustered from the recent exchange which is also of course at the uppermost of the audience's mind. It was traditional to play music in the inter-acts in the indoor Caroline theatres so there would have been a marking of the passing of time in this way which is harder to indicate to readers of a play. [go to text]

gg504   earnest money or sum of money paid as an instalment (OED n. 2) [go to text]

n535   earnest This is the second occasion on which the term 'earnest' has been used in the play though each time with entirely different meanings. Here Fitchow's meaning is financial, whereas the earlier reference deployed the alternate meaning of 'seriousness'. The complex interplay of meanings of this word is a notable feature of another Caroline playtext, James Shirley's The Bird in a Cage (1633); see the discussion in Chalmers, Sanders, and Tomlinson, Three seventeenth-century plays on women and performance, p. 32. [go to text]

gg505   troth loyalty (OED n1. I 1) [go to text]

n11649   Hyde Park Hyde Park was a new, fashionable leisure resort consisting of pleasure gardens, open in the spring and summer seasons and used for walking, horse-racing, and coach races. See James Shirley's play from 1632, Hyde Park. [go to text]

n264   Marylebone Like Hyde Park, Marylebone (or Maribone) had been a rural village in the late sixteenth century, but with the massive expansion of London and the seepage of the city out into its environs not least in pursuit of leisure it too became a fashionable green space and resort. As with Hyde Park, visitors were often served with food and drink provided by locals who adjusted their trade to the new situation. [go to text]

n269   your knight is ready present on his adventures Anvil's vocabulary here is mock-chivalric. The language of texts of romance and chivalry are a common focus of mocking reference and allusion in Caroline comedies; see, for example, James Shirley, The Bird in a Cage, 1.1.368-9. [go to text]

n270   Mirror The Espejo de Principes y Caballeros (Zaragoza, 1562) was translated into English as The Mirror of Princely Deeds and Knighthoods and published ten times between 1578 and 1601. Brome appears to refer to the text again in The Weeding of Covent Garden, 3.1. See also Jonson, The New Inn, 1.6.125. [go to text]

gg1611   cozened beguiled, deceived [go to text]

n11653   town The Caroline period is largely recognised as the time when that area of London identified by the term 'town' came in to existence, focused as it was in particular in those areas to the west of the old city walls, which connected the City of London to Westminster, and with its focal point in the Strand. See Brett-James (1935). [go to text]

n265   Flaps The chambermaid to Mistress Fitchow was not named in the original cast list in the quarto publication of The Northern Lass. However, since Mistress Fitchow appears to summon her as 'Flaps' in 2.1, I have decided to accord her this name throughout. The name is fitting since it means 'a strike or blow' and is therefore very much in keeping with the casual violence associated with the London society of this play, not least in its treatment of servants. See Pate and Beavis's discussion of the violent tendencies of their respective master and mistress at 2.2. On this theme in general, see Steggle (2004), pp. 26-8. [go to text]

n4338   fellow i.e. fellow servant [go to text]

n271   Does he make large suppers On the significance of dining clubs in the early seventeenth-century, see O'Callaghan, 2007. [go to text]

n272   Exchange Could refer to the Royal Exchange, founded in 1566, by Sir Thomas Gresham and modelled on the Antwerp Bourse, as a place where the changing of money as well as sale of goods might take place. In 1609, however, Sir Robert Cecil had opened the rival venture, the New Exchange on the Strand (its opening was marked by an entertainment commissioned from Ben Jonson), which was to all intents and purposes an early modern shopping mall on a courtyard design (see Dillon, 2000, esp. ch, 6; and Howard, 2007). The reference to bidding for goods at auction here suggests that Gresham's Royal Exchange may be the direct reference in this case. [go to text]

n273   thumb-ring Wealthy individuals in the early modern period wore gold thumb-rings as a mark of their personal fortune. [go to text]

n274   grandsire’s sheepmark or grannam’s butter-print on’t, to seal bags A sheepmark was a mark used by owners to distinguish their sheep from those of other farmers. It was used by some illiterate people as a subsititute for their signature, hence Wigeon's jest here that Sir Paul's provincial origins are betrayed by his using his grandfather's sheepmark on his thumb-ring in place of a royal seal. Similarly, butter-prints were carved wooden stamps used to identify a maker's butter and are again indicative of traditional country customs rather than the urban world of London. [go to text]

gg465   acquittances legal documents settlings debts, repayments etc. [go to text]

gg457   counterpanes copies of legal deeds [go to text]

n275   cunning herald could find better arms This continues Wigeon's previous references to butterprints and sheepmarks. Here he suggests that they are the most apposite emblems to be incorporated in the coat of arms of a person of provincial origin. Applications were made to the Court of Heraldry for a coat of arms of to be made up for a family, in the seventeenth century as today. The tradition is to include images and icons connected to the family in some way. [go to text]

n276   quarter a coat Provide a quarter of a coat of arms by means of his wife's proven lineage. [go to text]

gg466   grazier a person who grazes or feeds cattle ready for sale at market (OED 2) [go to text]

n325   whistled to a team of horses i.e. calling a team of horses to the plough (Wigeon is acknowledging his own provincial and country origins here). Vanessa Harding notes that 'in the early seventeenth century, three-quarters of the civi hierarchy has been born outside London' (2002, p. 131). [go to text]

gg1612   unsight and unseen without inspection or examination [go to text]

gg1607   withal along with the rest [go to text]

gg467   wimple a garment of linen or silk, worn by women, and folded so that it envelops the head, chin, sides of face and neck [go to text]

n327   cockney A cockney was defined as being someone born within the sound of Bow Church's bells. Bruce R. Smith has speculated that the term may derive from a cock-shaped weathervane on that church's belfry. He adds that 'the bow-bell rang out over an acoustic community that was also an identifiable speech community with its own dialect, its own varieties, its own registers' (1999, p. 52). Presumably Wigeon's lines could be delivered in a recognisably cockney accent, though Brome does not indicate through spelling or phonetics that he speaks in a specific dialect type like Constance. Other characters would also presumably have accents denoting their origins or backgrounds, in particular the young Cornish gentleman who also woos Constance, Salamon Nonsense. Of course, Wigeon could also be guilty of claiming kinship with a London community to which he does not really belong since as he himself acknowledges his family is predominantly from Lincolnshire. On the role of accent and dialect more generally on the early modern stage, see Smith, 1999. [go to text]

n11654   Hammersmith A village approximately seven miles west of St. Paul's, on the northern bank of the Thames. [go to text]

n328   The Countryman’s Commonwealth This appears to be one of the many manuals for self-improvement published in this period. Fried suggests Wigeon refers to W.S. 'The Countrey-mans Commonwealth, Containing diuers golden Sentences, very usefull and profitable both to read and practise.' On the availability of agricultural and self-improvement manuals more generally in the period, see McRae, 'Husbandry Manuals', 1992. [go to text]

gg468   socage a form of land tenure [go to text]

gg469   demeans probably a form of 'demesne', meaning land possessed by the owner and not held by any subordinate tenant (Fried) [go to text]

gg470   fee-simple an estate of land belonging to the owner and his heirs for ever, that is in absolute possession (OED) [go to text]

gg471   fee-tail an estate of inheritance entailed or limited to a particular class of heirs (OED) [go to text]

gg472   diking the act of making a dike [go to text]

gg473   grubbing clearing ground of roots and stumps (as in the 'grubbing up' of fruit trees) [go to text]

n4338   fellow i.e. fellow servant [go to text]

n329   shrink i’the wetting Proverbial: 'Like northern cloth, shrink in the wetting' (Tilley, p. 104). The anecdotal association of Northerners and their language with climatic conditions is 'pervasive' according to Katie Wales (2006, p. 25). Though she notes that Anvil's joke might appeal to southern members of the theatre audience (p. 79), Anvil has clearly been established by this point in the play as an unreliable guide to cultural matters. [go to text]

gg474   wimble an auger or carpenter's tool for boring holes in wood [go to text]

gg475   sweetmeats sweet food such as sugared cakes or pastries, candied fruit or marzipan, or any other confectionary [go to text]

n536   Is this my wimple? Do you bring carpenter’s tools to dress me withall? This is yet another example in the play of slapstick stage business involving the servant characters. [go to text]

gg476   gear apparel, clothing (OED I, 1a) [go to text]

n330   have a great many southern songs In the late sixteenth century, ballads had started to circulate in printed or 'broadside' forms and many people collected them in large numbers (see Watt). Wigeon's earlier references to agricultural and husbandry manuals has indicated that he is a fervent collector of printed items at the lower end of the market. The distinction he makes here between sourthern and northern ballads is intriguing. Lindley indicates that ballad music did have great 'mobility' and often altered between areas and regions (Shakespeare and Music, 2006, pp. 72-6). Bruce Smith also comments on the 'implicit geography' of sixteenth and seventeenth-century ballads, noting that many transmitted ideas of the North (1999, 185). [go to text]

gg477   airs harmonised melodies or part-songs (OED n1. 21) [go to text]

n331   airs Wigeon refers to the musical term for a harmonised melody or part-song (OED n1, 21) but with the punning reference to the sense of 'airs' as temperature and climate relating to specific place or environment (such as the cold North out of which Constance derives) (see OED n1, 4). [go to text]

n332   ‘York, York, for my money!’ The ballad 'York York for my money' was entered on the Stationers' Register in 1582 and has the opening line 'As I came thorow the North country'. The ballad tells of finding that the city of York has as much to offer by way of gallants, entertainment, and hunting fayre as the City of London and in its final stanza it promises to print this fact in the form of a ballad to be played by London musicians. Dated 1584 and credited to 'W.E' the full text of the ballad with its choric refrain: 'York, York, for my money; Of all the cities that ever I see,/ For merry pastime and company, except the city of London' can be found in 'The Roxburghe Ballads' ed. Charles Hindley (Vol. 1) (London: Reeves and Turner, 1873), pp. 1-7. On the significance of ballads generally for the dissemination of Northern forms of English at this time, see Wales, 2006. [go to text]

gg506   bishopric the province of a bishop; a diocese (OED 1) [go to text]

n4339   though I have never seen her Another plot element that depends on characters never having met or seen each other before; in this case Wigeon and Constance. [go to text]

n4340   am I no sooner married, governor, but we will set our travels afoot Wigeon clearly has no intention of sacrificing his planned European travels once he is married. [go to text]

n1835   And so in height of compliment grow complete, It is not untypical for scenes and acts in Caroline comedies to end on couplets. It does add to the self-aware tone of much of the comedy but also contributes to the semi-operatic quality of many of these plays where characters are on the edge of song in moments like these. Compare the cluster of short scenes ending on rhyming couplets to be found in Thomas Heywood's Caroline sequel to The Fair Maid of the West. That Wigeon here should speak in this self-consciously artificial way befits his character and his love of balladry declared earlier in this scene. Compare the use of rhyming couplets by the comic character Morello in James Shirley's 1633 The Bird in a Cage. [go to text]

n345   2.2 This scene was one of those workshopped very early on in the project with student actors and it proved very revealing in terms of the intimate relationship between the two characters that it established. Attempting the scene to depict Constance as aloof and detached from Trainwell (exhibiting as it were almost the first signs of her later state of mental and emotional distraction) was less successful than projecting a relationship of intimacy. The scene in that version lacked the force and gentle humour of those versions where the interlocuters were physically and emotionally engaged with each other. Playing the scenes confirmed a general sense that Brome has a great deal of sympathy and understanding for the female characters in this play. Keeping the ages of Trainwell and Constance distinct was helpful in establishing the maternal role that Trainwell plays towards Constance throughout as well as contrasting her world-weariness with Constance's charming but hapless innocence. There is a general case to be made for the importance of 'two-hander' scenes in the structure and dramatic effect of this play, witness the earlier scene between Triedwell and Fitchow at 1.2 [go to text]

n333   But I mun tell yee Constance speaks throughout the play in a northern dialect form, identified by many linguists as a reasonably accurate version of a Yorkshire dialect in the early seventeenth century (see, e.g. Blank (1996), pp. 111-12; Wales (2006), pp. 78-80). Brome indicates her pronunciation via a fairly idiosyncratic form of spelling which poses some difficulties for the modern editor. While it would render Constance archaic both in tone and appearance by comparison with other characters in a modern edition not to subject her speeches to any form of modernisation it was felt equally disruptive to her dramatic effects to 'write out' the dialect terms completely as was the decision with regard to the dialect forms in The Witches of Lancashire, Gabriel Egan's Globe Texts edition of The Late Lancashire Witches. A balance has therefore been sought between modernising the spelling on words that are not specifically dialect terms and retaining distinct spelling in those instances which are. All the words should however be delivered consistently in a soft Yorkshire accent. On the sympathetic handling of Constance's dialect speech, see Steggle (2004), p. 24, and Wales (2006), p. 78. Constance's speeches have also all been tagged for their distinct dialect type for the purposes of linguistic research and comparison. On the history of the Northern dialect, see Wales and on the importance of the Northern dialect to the early seventeenth century and in particular Ben Jonson, see Fumerton (1999), p. 95. In 1619, Alexander Gill had published his Logonomia Anglica which promoted the use of Northern dialect as the closest to Saxon forms. In Constance's case, Brome is participating in what Wales categorises as 'dialect for characterization' (p. 67); 'Linguistic features, like cultural artefacts such as caps and braces, leeks and whippets, serve ... as metonyms or synecdoche, standing for the whole image ...' (p. 29). [go to text]

n4516   Feath, Video That is: Faith (dialect). Constance switches into verse register here which seems to be the linguistic mode she adopts when remembering Sir Philip and when seeking to console herself. It is as if verse signifies the past and/or escapism, whereas the prose register is all too obviously located in an unhappy present for her. We explored these shifts of register in the voice workshop with Lynn Darnley and also looked at examples in the scenes of Constance's love-melancholy of what we have come to describe as Brome's tendency to switch into 'metrical prose' if not full verse at comparable moments of high emotion and/or remembrance. Linguistic form itself becomes a site of memory in this way for Constance. We explored other ways in which theatrical memory was also key to this scene, with Constance's state of mind expressed through song drawing obvious parallels for theatre-literate audiences with both Ophelia in Hamlet and the Jailer's Daughter in The Two Noble Kinsmen. The comparison with the latter is further enhanced by Nonsense's instruction to play the role of Sir Philip in this scene to 'cure' her of her melancholy, just as the Wooer is instructed to perform the role of Palamon to soothe the distressed Jailer's daughter in the Shakespeare and Fletcher tragicomedy. We chose to heighten this sense of intertheatricality when workshopping the scene by dressing Constance in a white nightgown and having her carry the salient prop of a bunch of flowers, in an obvious visual reference to Ophelia . In reality, in concentrating on the high emotion of this scene, we did not capture the sense that Nonsense is a comic character in the rest of the play, although Adam Kay's performance as the silent witness of Constance's distress was in its own right very moving . [go to text]

n334   bare eance nother 'Just once, no other' (dialect; Wright). [go to text]

n335   lee lie (dialect; Wright). [go to text]

n4342   but tuke me thus by th’ haund Video This is the action of hand-kissing that Constance has mistaken for the more formal act of 'hand-fasting' or securing a betrothal. For a more detailed discussion of the relevance of handfasting rituals to this play see the introductory essay and for a discussion of the practice more generally in the early seventeenth century, see Nicholl (2007), pp. 251-8. In the workshops we experimented with a range of ways of performing this leading me as editor to delete a prescriptive stage direction I had originally created stating that Constance kisses Trainwell on the hand to allow actors greater freedom with this moment. The discussion on this topic followed a suggestion by editor Marion O'Connor that Constance was like a teenage girl who, having been kissed on a certain hand by her hero, would not now wash that hand for weeks . Constance will recall the action of hand-kissing in her state of distraction in 3.2 of the play and in workshopping that scene we laid great emphasis on the handgestures, thus suggesting that the body itself performs the act of memory and memorializing for Constance . [go to text]

n4517   and thus he kust me Video Initially as editor my inclination had been to insert a stage direction at this point, along the lines of [Takes Mistress Trainwell by the hand and kisses her on it.] However, workshoping the scene suggested there was potential for other gestures at this point so I deleted it and simply offer it here as one possible way of performing the moment. . [go to text]

n336   deaft Fried, following Wright, suggests this word means 'pretty' in Northern dialect. Wales, however, suggests it is used as it is today as an affectionate term for 'stupid' or 'daft' (2006, p. 81). [go to text]

n337   likest most pleasing (dialect). [go to text]

n338   unbeggen unbegged (dialect). [go to text]

n4512   he asked mine uncle Video There are a myriad ways to perform this particular moment in which Constance recalls, performs even, her past encounter with Sir Philip Luckless and Trainwell's dawning realisation of the extent to which Constance has misinterpreted his actions. Initially we performed the scene in a standing position , but to give the scene and the relationship more dynamics the actors suggested the use of a bench . We also played with different tones to Constance's performance with varying depths of comedy and lightness and darker tones of despair hinted at in the interpretations. To play the scene only in a 'bouncy' way was too exaggerated yet we did want to achieve something of Constance's youth and vulnerability, something which Sam Alexander achives with genuine skill in the video extracts. Sam discussed issues of gender and tone afterwards reflecting on the high impact of playing this scene 'straight' . Robert Lister as the older, world-weary governess Trainwell also bought to the scene a touching sense of female empathy and understanding. [go to text]

gg1613   gin if, whether (OED, conj.; Scottish and dialect term; and records 1674 as its earliest example but this is clearly the sense here in Brome's usage) [go to text]

n339   till for him (dialect; Wright, who notes this is a West Yorkshire form). [go to text]

gg1614   gin against, by (OED, prep.)[e.g. 'God gin the priest had been by' = 'By God, if the priest had been by!'] [go to text]

n340   Spanish Lady’s joincture Presumably a reference to the dowry of the Infanta Maria of Spain whom Charles I, then Prince of Wales, had intended to marry in 1623, and who was the cause of the ill-fated venture to Madrid by Charles and the Duke of Buckingham. The entire affair became known as the 'Spanish Match'; see Redworth. Compare Constance's reference to the King of Spain's wealth in 3.2. The Spanish court is being deployed proverbially here as both a symbol of great wealth and source of financially supported dynastic marriages. [go to text]

n1836   ere sine ere since, before now (dialect). [go to text]

n4513   And, God pardon me, Video What this workshop version of the exchange reveals is both the potential for deep emotion in this scene, but also the effect of the entrance of a third party - the servant Beavis - to the scene of female intimacy . [go to text]

gg485   common courtship general flirtation [go to text]

n537   discretion Trainwell's catchphrase, used frequently in the play and mocked by Anvil himself when he calls her 'Good Discretion'. [go to text]

gg478   roarers a noisy, riotous bully or reveller; a wild roisterer; the term was particularly associated with tavern culture in the Caroline period (OED, 1b) [go to text]

gg479   swaggerers one who swaggers, a quarreller (particularly associated with tavern culture in the Caroline period) [go to text]

gg480   assurer one who underwrites life insurance [go to text]

n342   the Exchange The reference is to the Royal Exchange, built by Sir Thomas Gresham in 1566, where financial transactions such as the underwriting of life insurance could take place. Or possibly this is a reference to the New Exchange, another retail space opened near the Strand by Sir Robert Cecil in 1609 and celebrated in Jonson and Jones's inaugural masque, the 'Entertainment at Britain's Bourse', re-discovered by James Knowles in 1997 and known about due to references in letters in the Hatfield House archive. [go to text]

n398   go you to your chamber Constance's chamber in terms of stage space is represented by the balcony or the space above the stage, since she comes out from there to look down on Anvil with Trainwell in the next scene, and delivers her distracting song from that vantage point. [go to text]

n1219   CONSTANCE [TRAINWELL, and BEAVIS] exit. Brome indicates that only Constance should exit here, as she has been instructed by Trainwell to wait in her chamber offstage. However, Trainwell has also instructed Beavis to call Anvil into her; and in the very next scene we see Anvil outside the residence and Beavis with him so there needs to be an exit and re-entrance provided for both these characters. [go to text]

n1220   ANVIL [and] BEAVIS enter. The scene, it is suggested, takes place just outside the Squelch residence where Constance and Trainwell reside. Anvil's reactions are to the exterior or front sections of the residence. This sequence allows for Trainwell to presumably move through the house to enter soon after the scene opening, visible and audible to the audience but not yet to Anvil. [go to text]

n538   never discovered this place before Anvil is under the mistaken apprehension that he is looking at a high-class brothel. [go to text]

n1167   place royal i.e. La Place Royale in Paris (now Place des Vosges), a square created by Henri IV as a place to walk though also a site of shops and boutiques. In the 1630s it would itself become the subject and site for drama in Pierre Corneille's comedy of the same name (1633, pub. 1637). See Lichtenstein, 1991. There is obvious hyperbole in Anvil's comparison. [go to text]

n343   ladies might come to see the pictures There was a new vogue in seventeenth-century building for long galleries in an upper story where guests might walk or see pictures. They could also become suitable cover for other forms of assignation and Brome alludes to this elsewhere in his work. [go to text]

n1837   Descend Anvil instructs Beavis to go downstairs in an effort to patronise him as a member of the household staff, that is to say one who would work in the downstairs regions of the house. In fact, the next place the audience will see Beavis is in the above with Trainwell and Constance later in this same scene, further undermining Anvil's position with the audience. [go to text]

n344   What fees belong to your key? i.e. 'What bribe will you accept?' [go to text]

gg1194   party an individual concerned in a proceeding (sometimes legal) [go to text]

n1171   party Although in the 1629 context, Anvil's meaning by this term is clearly the glossary definition of 'individual concerned in the proceedings', in a modern production the term takes on an intriguingly resonant new sense, as the laddish culture of Anvil manifests itself in his gatecrashing of the residence where Trainwell and Constance are housed. [go to text]

gg409   gamester one who gambles (OED 3); lewd person of either sex (OED 5) [go to text]

gg80   piece of gold or silver, i.e. money (OED n. 1b) [go to text]

gg482   complexion a colouring preparation used by women to give themselves a fairer complexion (OED, 6) [go to text]

gg483   sack white wine from Spain: sack is derived from 'sec', and usually meant a dry white wine; hence Falstaff's enjoyment of 'sack and sugar' [go to text]

gg484   aqua-vitae a term from alchemy to refer to unrefined alcohol [go to text]

gg507   ill-given addicted to evil courses or conduct; ill-disposed (archaic) [go to text]

gg508   piece a woman, usually with the connotation of being a sexual object (OED II 9b) [go to text]

gg80   pieces of gold or silver, i.e. money (OED n. 1b) [go to text]

n4514   and I will tell thee, good Discretion. Video The workshopping of this section of the scene - where Anvil mistakenly believes he has come to a high-class brothel - revealed huge possibilities for involving the audience through direct address . Of course, Anvil believes the audience is on his side whereas in truth they are laughing at him rather than with him. [go to text]

n1168   [Aside] In the workshopping of this scene, the actor delivered this typically hubristic speech straight to the audience. This captured beautifully Anvil's seeming inability to recognise the truth of the situation he is in as well as revealing or confirming to an already uncomfortable audience the extent of his character as a braggart and a man of dissolute behaviour. These asides help shape later responses to Anvil in the play and indeed audience enjoyment of his downfall later in the scene when Beavis shuts him in the closet. [go to text]

n1169   armed the phrase befits Anvil's self-assigned role as a 'Captain' and a mock-soldier in the London fraternities in which he moves. [go to text]

gg1615   dry-beaten to inflict 'dry blows' upon, to be soundly beaten [go to text]

gg510   oblivion forgetfulness [go to text]

gg511   unadvisedness imprudence, rashness [go to text]

n539   She speaks like the wife of an orator that could dictate her husband’s speeches! Anvil's misogyny here in believing no woman could be capable of rhetorical eloquence in her own right is blatant. He is of course proved wrong by the female protagonists of the play who are skilful in their management of discourse and context, far more so than he. [go to text]

gg1194   party an individual concerned in a proceeding (sometimes legal) [go to text]

n540   porters and cudgels may be had for money Trainwell is conscious that she may need to hire armed gatekeepers to guard the threshold to her property against Anvil's importunate intrusion. Once again the vision of Caroline society is a surprisingly violent one in which beatings and attacks, both sanctioned and otherwise, appear commonplace. [go to text]

gg1616   fit (v) punish accordingly (OED v1. 12) [go to text]

n541   furnished with blankets Tossing in a blanket was a common punishment for those who committed minor offenses, often of a sexual nature. Witness the punishment of the errant tailor Nick Stuff in Ben Jonson's The New Inn, 4.3.88. [go to text]

n542   [TRAINWELL] exit[s]. Clearly she exits the main stage here only to reappear in the balcony or above, having entered Constance's bedchamber to acquaint her with events. In the workshopping of this scene with actors, it was remarked on that it was highly unusual for an exit to take place on an aside. There is, of course, the question as to whether an aside is to the audience or simply a character talking to him or herself - Brome seems to be fond of both possibilities in his use of the convention. Here Trainwell seems almost to be talking to herself, railing on the abuse she feels Anvil has performed against her, but it serves beautifully to involve the audience once again with her in a conspiratorial move against Anvil's braggart character. [go to text]

gg1617   charges expenses (OED 10a) [go to text]

gg930   returns yield, interest or profit [go to text]

gg436   wigeon (1) a wild duck; (2) applied to a person, in allusion to the supposed stupidity of the bird; a fool, simpleton, ninny [go to text]

n4343   [TRAINWELL and CONSTANCE enter above.] The women appear to emerge in a space above the stage, representative of a balcony on the property of Sir Paul Squelch. Brome was fond of incorporating the latest architectural and spatial innovations such as balconies into his plays; compare similar moments in The Novella and The Weeding of Covent Garden. For a fuller discussion of this architectural phenomenon in Brome's staging techniques, see Steggle (2004), pp. 49-50. [go to text]

n543   geane gone (dialect). [go to text]

n544   dee die (dialect). [go to text]

gg512   undertaker helper [go to text]

n337   likest most pleasing (dialect). [go to text]

n546   saw days o’your life saw [during the] days of your life, 'in your lifetime'. [go to text]

gg513   lozel good-for nothing individual; profligate; rake; scoundrel (OED) [go to text]

n545   lozel The OED notes that this term is Yorkshire dialect, which is consistent with Brome's handling of Constance's dialect throughout the play. [go to text]

gg990   trim fine, neat, smart (clever) [go to text]

n1176   [TRAINWELL and BEAVIS exit from the above.] When we initially workshopped this scene, since no obvious exit for Beavis had been provided in the text, but he obviously has to exit to reappear on the mainstage with Anvil a few lines later, we had Beavis exit immediately he had delivered his speech. It makes more sense for him as a servant, however, to remain to receive Trainwell's response (which is that she'll go down and speak with this man) and so I have given them a joint exit at this point instead. [go to text]

gg514   politic expedient, sagacious [go to text]

n4366   You say my love is but a man, 'Some say my love is but a man' has been identified in New York Public Library MS Drexel 4041, no. 11 and is attributed to John Wilson (1595-1674) who was the main songwriter for the King's Men in this period, also contributing songs to plays by John Fletcher and John Ford.. See Duckles (1968), 134; and Wood (1991), vol. 2, Appendix 2, no. 6 (p. 557). [go to text]

gg1194   party’s an individual concerned in a proceeding (sometimes legal) [go to text]

gg1194   party an individual concerned in a proceeding (sometimes legal) [go to text]

n1177   please you to obscure yourself in this dark closet Compare the treatment of Anvil here with that of the clerk, Dapper, in Ben Jonson's The Alchemist at 3.5. A closet was a small, more private room, usually leading directly off a more public space or area in the early modern household. Their presence in households was increasingly common in the 1620s and there were examples of both male and female closets in terms of design, occupation, and usage. In practical, spatial terms on the stage, the suggestion of a closet is a useful invocation of the offstage space as an extension into the wider household or building of the room that we are being asked as audience members to imagine onstage. On the significant use of the offstage space in Caroline drama, in particular the plays of Ben Jonson, see Sanders (2003), pp. 51-67. [go to text]

gg515   top gallant top sail (in a metaphorical sense, the peak or pinnacle) [go to text]

n547   are they wholesome Lords i.e. 'are they free from the pox?' [go to text]

gg514   politic expedient, sagacious [go to text]

n1177   closet.] Compare the treatment of Anvil here with that of the clerk, Dapper, in Ben Jonson's The Alchemist at 3.5. A closet was a small, more private room, usually leading directly off a more public space or area in the early modern household. Their presence in households was increasingly common in the 1620s and there were examples of both male and female closets in terms of design, occupation, and usage. In practical, spatial terms on the stage, the suggestion of a closet is a useful invocation of the offstage space as an extension into the wider household or building of the room that we are being asked as audience members to imagine onstage. On the significant use of the offstage space in Caroline drama, in particular the plays of Ben Jonson, see Sanders (2003), pp. 51-67. [go to text]

n4344   in the doubtful light of the evening Triedwell's reference to the poor light adds to the feasibility of the mistaken identities and impersonations on which the complicated plotlines of this play depend. [go to text]

n548   But were I one of ne'er a mickle, heest eene have all 'But were I never so important (by birth or wealth) he would have everything.' [go to text]

gg516   benison blessing [go to text]

n1221   [Hands him] a rope’s end. The appearance of this hand-held stage property with seemingly no implicit preparation in the text might be explained by events in 1.2 when Triedwell sought to dissuade Fitchow from marrying Luckless. He appears to make reference to the 'yoke' or noose of marriage and it is entirely feasible that he produced the rope prop at this stage in the proceedings also. It would then be a visual as well as verbal echo of 2.2 of Ben Jonson's Epicoene, where Truewit seeks to dissaude Morose from the course of 'goblin matrimony'. On handheld properties more generally in this period, see Gil Harris and Korda (2002). [go to text]

n549   for a large window, one of the last edition Large windows had recently become very fashionable, a product both of Italianate influences on building practices and the reduction in the cost of windows when foreign glass manufacture began to compete with the home-grown industry (Fried). [go to text]

gg517   preparative a medicinal treatment administered before further medication or treatment [go to text]

n550   The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me — Anvil's words of course repeat the solemn oath sworn before giving witness in a court of law, thereby continuing the extensive legal allusions in the play. He is stopped by Triedwell before he can complete the phrase - 'so help me God' - which would constitute an infringement of the law against the swearing of oaths on the early Stuart commercial stage. [go to text]

gg518   bravest acts with bravado [go to text]

n592   call him ‘Captain’ On the link between men's clubs, associational culture, and the military in the 1620s and 1630s, see O'Callaghan, 2007. [go to text]

n1175   Beavis Beavis has clearly remained onstage throughout after ushering Anvil into the closet at the end of 2.3. [go to text]

n593   try my blade test my sword (with an obvious pun on Anvil's name). [go to text]

n551   lady’s favour usually a ribbon, but here the rope's end that Trainwell handed Triedwell a little earlier in the scene. [go to text]

gg519   muttonship a mock-term of respect, usually for a woman (OED's only recorded usage is in Brome's The Northern Lass where it is in fact parodically applied to a male character) [go to text]

n552   muttonship This is OED's sole recorded usage of the phrase and is in fact applied ironically to a male character (Anvil). [go to text]

n553   lion’s case 'lion's skin'. Anvil is of course disguised as Sir Philip Luckless and so dressed above his social status or rank which transgresses the sumptuary laws of the day. [go to text]

n554   makes doubt 'confuses him [Sir Philip Luckless]' [go to text]

n555   Triedwell Interestingly Triedwell reverts back to a verse register here as he did in 1.2 in his exchanges with Fitchow. He does this at the very moment that he is trying to save the situation with regard to his love for Fitchow and the verse lines are therefore a brilliant reminder to the audience of that earlier scene and the depth and force of his attraction to her, as well as providing a scene ending, echoing the effects of Wigeon's closing verse couplet in that previous scene. [go to text]

n1838   Then, sir, for this time you shall be reprieved Triedwell's reversion to verse form here and his closing rhyming couplet all serve to mark the scene ending in a very formal and self-aware manner typical of Caroline comedy. [go to text]

gg1619   smart (n) sharp physical pain [go to text]

n11382   the Strand A linking street between the city and Westminster and the site of many noblemen and women's houses, themselves appropriations of bishop's palaces, the Strand became the central street of the area that came to be known as the Town. This area, emergent in Ben Jonson's Epicoene in 1609 was fully established in Brome's time and the location for many scenes in Caroline city comedies, see for example Brome's own The Sparagus Garden (1635) and James Shirley's contemporaneous The Lady of Pleasure. [go to text]

gg520   gait manner of walking, stepping [go to text]

n557   between Temple Bar and Charing Cross Temple Bar was a gate at the western end of Fleet Street, which marked the perimeter of the City of London's jurisdiction. Charing Cross was a monument erected by Edward I in honour of Queen Elinor and stood at the western end of the Strand at its junction with Whitehall. The places invoked by Pate in this speech are the fashionable resorts and residences of the socially mobile in the Caroline period which fits his topic of conversation which is the training up of Humphrey Howdee to be a top-ranking servant in the employment of such families and households. [go to text]

gg1620   smoke burn (figurative) [go to text]

n558   he glad of peace at that rate 'he glad to be dead for that reason' [go to text]

n595   rankest jade that e’er was curried could not come near her the most inferior of horses (and therefore prone to bite and kick) that was ever combed down (as if being prepared for riding) could not compare with her (Mistress Fitchow) for violence. [go to text]

gg532   jade on the analogy with an exhausted horse, a jade is an overused prostitute (or more crudely: a clapped-out tart) [go to text]

gg533   curried rubbed down with a comb (as in a horse) (OED ppl a, 1) [go to text]

n559   death’s-head ring a mourning ring, presumably worn by Fitchow in memory of her late husband, though according to Howdee used inappropriately to violent effect. Steggle (2004), p. 22, remarks on the fact that this violent account of Fitchow sits in tension with the intelligent and sensible woman audiences witness onstage and in dialogue with Triedwell in 1.2. Three further points might be made: 1) the violence reputed to be in Fitchow's nature is not seen directly onstage so audiences have no visual proof or confirmation of her character in this regard; 2) the account of her violence is given by the somewhat inventive and creative Humphrey Howdee, her servant (Ira Clark, for example, appears to accept Howdee's and others' misogynist comments on Fitchow without question; see Clark, 2001, 411), 3). Her violence, even if confirmed, does not look terribly out of step with the world of beatings and aggressive behaviour depicted as typical of London life in the play. [go to text]

n560   true memento The 'memento mori' (literally, 'remember that you have to die') was a death's-head ring. Fried notes that it was commonly worn by Elizabethan prostitutes and this may add to the implicit misogyny of Howdee's speech. [go to text]

gg521   Bobs blows with the fist (OED n3. 1) [go to text]

gg522   trenchers plate or piece of wood (flat or circular) on which food was served (OED II 2) [go to text]

n561   methinks they look as if they were fallen out already Presumably, Pate sees Luckless and Fitchow just off-stage and their entry in the printed quarto edition of the play marked a new scene (Act 2, Scene 6). In this modern edition we have simply kept the action flowing. [go to text]

n1839   At the other door The indoor commercial theatres of the Caroline period tended to have two doors for the purposes of entry and exit at the back of the stage. By insisting that characters enter by separate doors during a massed entry as in this example, Brome is able to imply the arrival of different groupings from different places via an easy visual signifer to the audience. [go to text]

n596   a father’s part i.e. the act of formally giving away the bride within the marriage ceremony. [go to text]

n240   bulfinch A bulfinch is a member of the genus of birds allied to grosbeaks. They can be easily trained as songbirds and therefore became a proverbial name for persons easy to influence or persuade. That Apprehension Bulfinch as a Justice of the Peace should be so malleable is a cause for concern in social terms. [go to text]

n597   bull-speaking 'speaking bull' remains proverbial today for speaking rubbish or nonsense. [go to text]

n600   never credit me 'Never trust me'. This is Salomon Nonsense's (unfortunate) catchphrase. [go to text]

n606   most answerable to her kindred 'as foolish as her relatives' [go to text]

gg536   answerable correspondent with (OED 3) [go to text]

gg1038   Certes certainly [go to text]

gg534   broker a retailer of commodities, a second-hand dealer, pedlar [go to text]

gg535   joiner a craftsman who works with wood [go to text]

n598   Constance! It suddenly dawns on Sir Philip at this moment the confusion he has made over the two Constances, hence this line must be delivered as an aside. [go to text]

n607   country thing Fried suggests there may be a sexual pun here, a reference to female genitalia, but this seems highly unlikely in the circumstances. The point is rather that Constance 'the northern lass' is always associated with her provincial, northern origins and with a 'place elsewhere' distinct from the London town society and setting of the play. [go to text]

gg1621   starting getting away from, moving from [go to text]

n4317   Cornets flourish. Positioned in right margin in Q. [go to text]

gg215   fit (n) mood, capricious humour; outburst [go to text]

n605   to present a masque Household masques and entertainments had a long tradition from the Tudor period (see Westfall), but were in the late 1620s and early 1630s becoming an increasingly common part of the cultural productions of the aristocrats living in and around the Strand. Some of these masques even moved between different properties on a single street, see Knowles (2000), pp. 79-135. On the importance of household entertainments to the role of women in performance in this period, see Findlay, 2007 and Chalmers, Sanders, and Tomlinson, Three seventeenth-century plays on women and performance. [go to text]

n601   Shall I not be master of my own house? Fitchow deliberately employs the masculine term of 'master' to make her point to Luckless that she intends to be dominant in the household despite her marriage to him. [go to text]

n602   But what I purpose, Fate shall not prevent The rhyming couplet indicates that Fitchow has reverted to the more formal verse register we last saw her use with Triedwell. Here Brome appears to use it to alert the audience to the fact that she does not mean what she says on the surface which is all about obedience and contrition. [go to text]

gg222   humours mood, temper, attitude, frame of mind [go to text]

n4345   The masquers enter. According to the 'Persons of the Play' there are additional masquers to the named characters who take part in the masquing. [go to text]

n685   [masks, and bearing] Although the original SD in the quarto edition of the play does not make this clear, the masquers must be masked, and their identities concealed, since Squelch can only recognise Constance by the sound of her singing voice and Wigeon subsequently refers in this scene to falling in love with her ‘visor’ rather than her face. [go to text]

n603   willow garlands Willow garlands were emblematic of grief or unrequited love. See comparable uses of this stage property in John Fletcher, The Wild-Goose Chase (1621), 4.1.0SD, and by the masquers in James Shirley's Hyde Park, 5.2. The most famous example on the modern stage of the willow's emblematic status comes in Desdemona's 'Willow Song' in Othello. For a discussion of this song and its significations on the stage, see Lindley (2006) pp. 149-50. [go to text]

n604   four men, four women The deployment of gender symmetry in early Stuart court masques was a common device, which this household version clearly seeks to emulate. [go to text]

n4367   Nor love nor fate dare I accuse, This song has been identified in New York Public Library MS Drexel 4041, n. 12 and New York Public Library MS Drexel 4257, n. 99. The Drexel MS attributes it to John Wilson (1595-1674) who was the main songwriter for the King's Men in this period, also contributing songs to plays by John Fletcher and John Ford. Duckles (1968) notes that there is also a late seventeenth century extant setting. [go to text]

gg539   mickle great or large in size, bulk etc. (OED notes that this is chiefly regional, used in Scottish dialect and in Northern English) [go to text]

gg537   wishly steadfastly, fixedly [go to text]

n689   Of foot, of hand, of lip, or eye, Constance is invoking the traditional poetic form of the blazon here, which catalogues the individual parts of the lover's face and/or body, but it is intriguing that what we witness through the performance of this song is a female protagonist emblazoning a male lover or object of desire. This is a conscious reversal of the norm and confirms the widespread critical sense that female agency operates in a distinct and knowing way in much Caroline commercial drama (see, for example, Sanders, 1999; Howard, 2002; Tomlinson, 2005). Compare also Carol's subversion of the blazon in James Shirley's Hyde Park, 3.2: 'Your nose is Roman, which your next debauchment / At tavern, with the help of pot or candlestick, / May turn to Indian, flat; your lip is Austrian, / And you do well to bite it;'. [go to text]

n675   [The masquers dance.] There is no clear indication of the kind of dance performed by the masquers in this household entertainment, but the symmetry of the couples would suggest something formal and contained rather than the more energised and subversive dancing that occasionally featured as part of the antimasque sections in court masques. On the different types of dance deployed in early Stuart masque and their semiotics of performance, see Skiles Howard (1998) and Ravelhofer (2006). [go to text]

n684   The woman’s voice had much in’t like my niece. Squelch can only begin to identify Constance by the sound of her singing voice (noted throughout the play as one of distinction) because the masquers were literally masked, their identities concealed, for the performance. [go to text]

n678   ’od’s A euphemistic substitute for 'God's'. There were complicated restrictions on the swearing of oaths on the early modern stage, which phrases and constructions such as this sought to circumvent. [go to text]

gg302   conceit notion [go to text]

n603   willow Willow garlands were emblematic of grief or unrequited love. See comparable uses of this stage property in John Fletcher, The Wild-Goose Chase (1621), 4.1.0SD, and by the masquers in James Shirley's Hyde Park, 5.2. The most famous example on the modern stage of the willow's emblematic status comes in Desdemona's 'Willow Song' in Othello. For a discussion of this song and its significations on the stage, see Lindley (2006) pp. 149-50. [go to text]

n679   to her more despite to her greater scorn [go to text]

gg543   despite scorn, contempt [go to text]

n1841   Hell itself could not have vapoured such an error forth Hell could not have created such a delusion (with 'vapoured' meaning 'formed a delusion' in this precise context). [go to text]

gg544   vapoured formed of vapour (OED 2) [go to text]

gg302   conceit notion [go to text]

n680   They took their coaches instantly and dispersed themselves by several ways Brome makes witty play here with the idea of the ephemerality of masque performances. The magical disappearance of Prospero's masquers in The Tempest ('Our revels now are ended. These our actors, / As I foretold you. were all spirits, and / Are melted into air', 4.1.148-50), is reduced here to the very material 'dispersal' of these performers in their respective coaches to their residences around London. [go to text]

gg545   commission the magistracy, Justices of the Peace; Commission of the Peace: the authority given under the Great Seal empowering certain persons to act as Justices of the Peace in a specified district; hence on the commission: having the office of Justice of the Peace (OED 2c) [go to text]

n681   Are you so sensible of her loss? 'Do you feel the loss of her so acutely?. Fitchow's aside appears to refer to Luckless who is presumably showing some physical signs of distress that he has both had Constance in such close proximity and yet failed to recognise her and that his rushed marriage to Fitchow will now prevent any chance of a future union between them. [go to text]

n4346   [FLAPS and HOWDEE] her servants (Q) [go to text]

gg429   earnest seriousness (OED n. 1 and 2) [go to text]

gg546   slack lacking in energy, lax in one's duties (a. and adv.) [go to text]

gg547   occasions opportunities [go to text]

n682   occasions Used here with a sexual meaning. [go to text]

gg548   pillar vertical structure as in a building; a column [go to text]

gg549   visor a mask to conceal the face (OED n. 2) [go to text]

n683   visor It is this reference by Wigeon to the mask that Constance wore in the masque performance that indicates that the earlier stage direction should instruct that as well as carrying their willow garlands the masquers are all masked, their identities concealed in some way. This is also why Squelch only suspects the lead female performer was his niece from the sound of her singing voice. [go to text]

n686   dive into business of this depth. It is nestling time Squelch continues here a series of puns on Walter Wigeon's forename (a homonym of 'Water') and surname (a wild duck). [go to text]

gg550   nestling nesting (as in the behaviour of birds) [go to text]

n687   what your sister hath promised you let her perform if she can Squelch refers to the promise Fitchow has made Wigeon that he will be matched with Constance, an arrangement she appears not to have secured Squelch's advance permission for. [go to text]

n688   We’ll see you to the gate, by your leave. A very handy device for getting all the characters off the stage at the end of the act. In the indoor theatres there were no curtains that could be dropped to enable any characters still onstage to exit unseen and the use of candlelight would have made any rapid dimming of light impossible so dramatists frequently created careful schema by which to enable characters to exit the stage. [go to text]