192MihilNay, but honest Shoemaker, thy honest price*n4577 Mihil and the tradesmen immediately acknowledge differences in status through their use of pronouns: Mihil addresses the tradesmen with 'thou' and 'thy', the tradesmen respond with 'you' and 'your'. ?

193ShoemakerI tell you in truth, sir, ’tis as good a boot as ever you pulled on in your life.

194MihilA little too straight,*n490 Mihil complains about the fit, but he is also probably alluding to his inability to pay. I doubt. What do you think o’ my boots, honest Tailor?

195TailorThey do exceeding handsomely, never trust me, sir.*n491 'Or' is omitted, a colloquial usage. This is a formulaic phrase, but Mihil pursues it to play on the mutual lack of trust of the tradesmen and their customer.

196MihilNever fear it, Tailor, you shall trust me, and please*n4578 There is play on meanings of to 'please' and to be 'pleasant' throughout this tense dialogue between Mihil and the tradesmen, as both sides seek to require the other to comply with very different codes of behaviour. you.

197TailorYou are pleasant, sir.

198Mihil And what do you think of my suit, Shoemaker? Can you say as much for the Tailor as he for you?

199ShoemakerA very neat suit, sir, and becomes you excellent.

200MihilHonest men both, and hold together; one would little think you were so near neighbours. Well, you have fitted me both, I must confess*n492 'fitted' and 'confess' suggest that Mihil is using 'fit' in the sense of being incriminated or trapped; it survives in the slang 'fitted up', though the OED records this usage only from the late nineteenth century onwards. . But how I shall fit you, now there’s the point.*n493 Mihil now seems to be drawing on the general sense of suiting or harmonizing: how can I make things all right with the tradesmen, despite being unable to pay them?

201TailorThere’s but one way for that and please you.

202ShoemakerWith paying us our money, sir.

203MihilStill both in a tale*n2896 The Tailor and Shoemaker are continuing to present a unified front and Mihil is unable to play them off against each other to evade paying his debts. Later in this scene the homophones 'tail' and 'entail' will be heard. , I cannot but commend your neighbourhood. I muse my laundress*n494 '"Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, half aside to Sam, "it's a curious circumstance, Sam, that they call the old women in these inns, laundresses. I wonder what’s that for?"' (Charles Dickens, Pickwick Papers, Chapter 20). Well into the nineteenth century the caretakers for Inns of Court chambers were called laundresses, but provided many services besides washing clothes. By repute at least, some of those services may have been sexual. In Lording Barry's Ram Alley (perf. 1608) William Smallshanks says of his prostitute, 'she is my laundresse, / And by this light, no punie Inn a Court / But keeps a laundress at his command / To do him service' (Act 1, scene 1). stays,†gg1655 is not back yet I sent her three or four ways for moneys. But do not you stay for that. I have ways enough to pay you. I have ploughs a-going*n496 I have money-making schemes afoot (OED, plough, Bc. In various figurative applications, for example, as the instrument or means of earning one's livelihood. that you dream not of.

204TailorNo, indeed, sir, we dream of nothing but ready money, sleeping or waking.

205MihilI shall be rich enough, ne’re fear ’t. I have a venture in the new soap-business*n498 A highly topical reference: in 1632 Charles I gave a charter to the Society of Soapmakers of Westminster, permitting them a 14-year monopoly in this lucrative trade. Many London soapmakers were put out of work by this monopoly, raising popular opposition. The members of the Society of Soapmakers were also predominantly Catholic, again raising opposition as religious tension heightened, though one of their number was Sir William Russell, a relative of the earl of Bedford. In the Calendar of State Papers the Council takes up matters to do with the soap monopoly in the same item as issues to do with Covent Garden. The conflict over the soap-making monopoly was fully described around the time of the revival of this play in the early 1640s, in A short and true relation concerning the soap-busines (1641). There is no reference to the Catholic affiliation of any of the patentees in this work; the objections to the patent are commercial and anti-monopolistic. In The Survey of London volume on Covent Garden, Appendix 4 (p. 322) considers this reference as a means of dating the play and notes that actual riots against the soap monopoly occured in 1634; however, the tradesmen's comment may refer to the growing resentment that began almost immediately from 1632 onwards. , man.

206TailorWe are but servants, sir. And our masters themselves have no faith in slippery*n499 A pun on the qualities of soap. projects.

207ShoemakerBesides, the women begin to grumble against that slippery project shrewdly, and, ’tis feared, will mutiny shortly.

208MihilBurlakin,†gg1656 by our Ladykin and they may prove more troublesome than a commotion of sailors.*n501 Sailors were notoriously riotous, so 'of' means 'by'.

O welcome, Laundress, where’s the money?

209LaundressNot a penny of money, sir, can I get. But here’s one come to town has brought you enough, and you can have grace to finger†gg3299 to touch or handle (money) with unworthy motives (OED finger v, 2b cites Richard Mulcaster, Positions vvherin those primitiue circumstances be examined, which are necessarie for the training vp of children, either for skill in their booke, or health in their bodie [1581]: 'The fellow said much, and that state felt more, when they [the Romans] fell to fingering' [p. 159].) it.

210MihilWho’s that, I prithee?

211LaundressYour father, your father*n2897 The repetition indicates the Laundress's urgency. Both she and Mihil repeat phrases often during this scene. , sir. I met his man by great chance, who told me his master means to steal upon you presently, and take you as he finds you.

212MihilIs he come up with his cross tricks? I heard he was to come. And that he means to live here altogether. He has had an aim these dozen years to live in town here, but never was fully bent on ’t until the Proclamation of restraint*n502 Another topical reference: on 20 June 1632 Charles I issued a Proclamation ordering members of the gentry to return to their estates and fulfil what he considered to be their duty as local magistrates. In this he was following the pattern of his father, James I, who also sought to force the aristocracy and gentry to reverse their migration to London and return to the country. Both kings seem to have had a nostalgia for more traditional and hierarchical structures of authority. Crosswill, of course, finds the king’s Proclamation an incentive to do the reverse. This raises questions concerning Kaufman’s view of Brome as a thorough social conservative. The play seems to recognise as inevitable the in-migration to London and not to be too concerned about it. The moral abuses are detached from the desire to live in town, a separation the king appears to have been unable to achieve.
The National Art Library Dyce 25.E.45 ms. annotator notes this as a topical reference, writing in the margin 'Novr. 1635'. spurred him up. ’Tis such a Crosswill. Well, he is my father, and I am utterly undone if thou help’st me not now at a pinch, at a pinch, dear Laundress. Go borrow me a gown*n503 The gown indicates connection to the legal profession. , and some four or five law books, for I protest, mine are in Duck Lane*n504 Duck Lane was the principal street of Little Britain in Smithfield, which was becoming a centre of the booktrade, an alternative to Paul’s Churchyard. Mihil has sold his books there. Duck Lane was just a little closer than St Paul’s Churchyard to Grays Inn and Lincolns Inn. . Nay, trudge, sweet Laundress, trudge –   LAUNDRESS exits   Honest Tailor and Shoemaker, convey yourselves away quietly, and I’ll pay you tomorrow, as I am a gentleman.

213ShoemakerAs I am a shoemaker, and that’s a kind of a gentleman*n505 Shoemaking was known as 'the gentle craft', so-called because of the martyr Prince Crispin, who in legend is a shoemaker. , you know, I’ll not stir till I have my money. I am not an ass, sir.

214MihilNobody says thou art.

215ShoemakerI have had too many such tricks put upon me i’ my days.

216MihilA trick! As I hope for money, it is no trick.

217ShoemakerWell, sir, trick or no trick, I must have my money or my boots, and that’s plain dealing.

218MihilA pox o’th’ boots, so my legs were out of ’hem. Would they were i’ thy throat, spurs and all. You will not out?

219ShoemakerNo, marry, will we not.

220TailorWell said, Shoemaker, I commend thee. Thou hast a better heart than I, though my stomach’s good.*n2898 As in Elizabeth I's 'Tilbury Speech' ('Had I the heart and stomach of a man ...'), the conjunction of heart and stomach can signify bravery. But the Tailor separates them: he can do what comes naturally to stomachs, that is, eating and drinking, but cannot do the bravery.

221MihilO well said.*n506 A line for the laundress may be missing here. She hasn’t yet said anything on her return. Alternatively, this may be a sardonic comment on the nobility of the Tailor's sentiments My good Laundress, how am I bound to thee? Yet all this wo’ not do ’t,*n507 Will not do it Laundress. Thou must bestir thy stumps a little further, and borrow me a couple of gowns more, for these rascals here that will not away.

222LaundressHow? Wo’ not away? And they were well serv’d, they would be thrust out of doors for saucy companions. Your masters would not put a gentleman to his trumps†gg1657 to force or drive (a person, etc.) to the performance of some action, e.g. of making a choice, playing a certain card (OED put v, 28a) thus.

223Mihil*n6651 In the 1659 printing, the Speech Prefix is M; Nay, sweet Laundress, restrain thy tongue, and stretch thy feet. A couple of gowns, good Laundress, and forget not caps.   LAUNDRESS exits   If I do now furnish you like civil lawyers*n509 As in The Sisters of the Scabards Holiday, there seems to be a joke going on about civil lawyers here. Civil law stands in distinction to common law. It is based on the 'civil law of Rome, a code that was believed at the time to support the autocratic power of the Crown' (Brian P. Levack, The Civil Lawyers of England, 1603-1641 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973), p. 3). Socially, having been trained at the universities and not in the inns of court, 'the civil lawyers claimed a higher status than the barristers, ranking closest to the Sergeants-at-law, the élite corps of common lawyers who had exclusive rights of pleading in the Court of Common Pleas' (p. 3), making the Shoemaker and the Tailor’s fears of being mistaken for civil lawyers in their borrowed gowns all the funnier. Civil lawyers sided with the king and tended to support absolutism; they also sided with the king in matters ecclesiastical. They were members of the Court: 'Unlike the independent common law barristers, they held offices of profit in the King’s government or in the Church, an institution linked to the central government through the King’s appointment of bishops' (8). As such they were generally unpopular and, by the early 1630s, their political reputation was such that they depended utterly on the king for protection and patronage. The Court of High Commission, which had been founded in the sixteenth century and was concerned particularly with the enforcement of the conformity laws of the Reformation, had become during the 1630s the key instrument for the implementation of the Laudian policy of 'Thorough' (177), even though some civilians resisted Laud (188-193). In 1641 the Long Parliament abolished the Court, a triumph for the common lawyers and a blow from which the civil law never really recovered. It is an interesting possibility that Brome may be responding to the rapid, and certainly alarming, development of the law as a profession in this period. The Weeding of Covent Garden is set just as the growth in the use of the law and the number of both lawyers and the 'learned lay litigant' was reaching what we now recognise as its apogee in early modern England (Christopher W. Brooks, Lawyers, Litigation and English Society since 1450 (London: Hambledon, 1998), p. 29: 'In 1640 there was probably more litigation per head of population going through the central courts at Westminster than at any time before or since'. See also Chapter 2, 'Lawyers and Attorneys in the King’s Bench and Common Pleas, 1560-1640'.) The number of lawyers had tripled since the 1560s (Christopher W. Brooks, Lawyers, Litigation and English Society Since 1450 (London: Hambledon, 1998) Chapter 2, 'Lawyers and Attorneys in the King’s Bench and Common Pleas, 1560-1640', p. 15); it was to fall away markedly around 1700. The kind of litigants was changing also, with far more cases brought by those below gentry status. The notion of the Tailor and Shoemaker as parties to a law case for the recovery of monies is anything but extraordinary in the 1630s. See also Brooks, Lawyers, Litigation and English Society Chapter 3, 'Civil Litigation in England, 1640-1830' and Chapter 7, 'Law, Lawyers and the Social History of England'; and C. W. Brooks, Pettyfoggers and Vipers of the Commonwealth: the 'Lower Branch' of the Legal Profession in Early Modern England (Cambridge: CUP, 1986). , and you do not keep your countenances; if ever you do but peep in at the Hall door at Christmas to see the revels*n510 The Inns of Court were well known for their vigorous Christmas festivities, which famously included performances of drama, most notably Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. , I’ll have you set i’ th’ stocks for this, believe it.

224ShoemakerIf you do, sir, I may hap be even with you before the year comes about, and set you in our stocks for ’t.*n511 Shoemaker’s stocks are tight shoes or boots: OED stock n1 8e, usually figurative meaning to be controlled or forced. Samuel Pepys uses the word: 'So back again, walked to White-hall, and there to and again in the park, till, being in the shoemaker’s stocks, I was heartily weary' (22 April 1666). The Diary of Samuel Pepys edited and transcribed by Robert Latham and William Matthews vol 6 1666 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), p. 107. However, stocks as a means of punishment were also associated with tradesmen in the shopping districts of Westminster, some being found in Britain's Burse (the New Exchange), to punish and counteract rowdy behaviour.

225TailorBut will you make lawyers of us?

226MihilHave you a mind to have your money, you unbelieving*n2899 Throughout the next few lines Mihil plays on the tradesmen's refusal to extend credit as akin to atheism or heresy: he says they have 'no faith', are 'infidel tradesmen', and lack the Christian virtue of mercy. rascals?

227ShoemakerI see your drift, and hope you’ll prove an honest gentleman.

228MihilThou hast some hope, though no faith nor trust*n4579 Mihil's sardonic comment expresses an unvarnished truth: there is no trust between supplier and customer in this new society. Mihil draws the moral after the tradesmen leave at the end of the scene: only ready money has power in the new world of Covent Garden. in any man.

229ShoemakerAlas, sir, our masters sit at great rents†gg1658 to be tenant of, to occupy, a house, farm, etc.; to remain during a lease; to continue a tenancy; also, to live at a certain rate of expense (OED, sit v, 8b) , and keep†gg1660 keep; maintain (OED keep v, 19) great families.†gg1661 family: household; the servants of a house or establishment; the household (OED I 1a)

230MihilI cry you mercy, they are removed into the new plantation here,*n514 Covent Garden itself. Mihil seems to be registering the instability of society and traditional roles in the new development. The merchants are moving into Covent Garden and, as they do so, are becoming 'infidel tradesmen' and losing their subservience to the gentry and above, now requiring their 'superiors' to pay in a timely fashion. The reference to 'infidel' connects to the earlier description of Dorcas as 'turning Turk'. where, they say, are a tribe of infidel tradesmen, that have made a law within yourselves to put no trust in gentlemen.*n515 Again, the new development at Covent Garden is a place where the rules have changed: tradesmen no longer see it as necessary to give unlimited credit to gentlemen. They want to be paid. But bear yourselves handsomely here, you were best. I am acquainted with a crew*n516 The 'wild crew' mentioned by Madge in Act 1, Scene 2. Mihil’s use confirms that this is a gang, potentially violent, and he goes on to threaten explicitly. See James Shirley, The Gamester (1637), 1.i: 'the blades, that roar, / In brothels, and break windows, fright the streets, / At midnight worse that constables, and sometimes, / Set upon innocent bell-men'. See Bryson, From Courtesy to Civility, p. 249. that haunts about your habitations, with whom I will join, and so batter your windows one of these nights else. –   [LAUNDRESS enters with two more lawyers’ gowns]   O welcome, Laundress, how dost thou toil for me.

231LaundressYour father’s talking, as I am a woman, below.

232[Mihil]*n9174 There is no Speech Prefix at this point in the 1659 printing. Several ms. annotators insert it. As thou art a woman below*n3296 Mihil misconstrues the Laundress's line in order to make an off-colour joke. , well said. Come, on with these gowns, and let’s see how you’ll look.    [MIHIL, TAILOR, and SHOEMAKER put on the gowns]   If we had time, the shoemaker should wash his face; but seeing there is no remedy, pull the cap in your eyes, and good enough. Now Laundress, set us stools, and leave us.

233LaundressI hear him coming up.LAUNDRESS exits

234MihilNow let him come, we are ready for him. Shoemaker, keep your hand underneath the book, that the pitch*n517 Blacking for shoe leather do not discover you.

235ShoemakerI warrant you, sir.

236MihilAnd Tailor, be sure you have no needle on your sleeve, nor thread about your neck.

237TailorI warrant you too for me, sir.

238MihilHe’s entered*n9175 This is an example of a press correction. In some copies (British Library BL 18536 and Henry E. Huntington Library 600202) this is printed 'enrred'; it is corrected in all others seen to 'entred'. .

239MihilRemitter, I say, is where a man hath two titles, that is to say, one of an elder, the other of a later. And he cometh to the land by the later title; yet the law adjudgeth him to be in by the force of the elder title.*n519 This is a reasonably correct definition of remitter. The speech then descends into the gobbledygook of jargon. Mihil's choice of subject for the tutorial is not random, however. Mihil is a younger son and his father, listening unseen as he supposes, has followed gentry practice in settling his estates on the elder son (so Rooksbill assumes when he hears Gabriel, the elder son, may already be dead, leaving his new son-in-law heir). Mihil's explanation harps on the words 'elder', 'younger', 'tail', 'inherit', and more of the language of estate law. This play is written at a moment when the plight of younger brothers was becoming much discussed in print, not least in the much-reprinted The younger brother his apologie, or a fathers free power disputed for the disposition of his lands, or other his fortunes to his sonne, sonnes, or any one of them: as right reason, the lawes of God and nature, the civill, canon, and municipall laws of this kingdome doe command (1618), by. J. A[p Robert]. Ill-provided younger sons often lived abroad or were educated in the hope of making a living through entry to a profession; this pamphlet was printed first at St Omer and then in Oxford. Verbal similarities between Mihil's speeches and the text of The Younger Brother are not exact enough for this work to be considered a direct source, but Chapter 8 of that work (pp. 34-36) gives the characteristic vocabulary of the debate over primogeniture on which Brome is surely drawing. See Joan Thirsk, 'Younger Sons in the Seventeenth Century' History 54 (1969) pp. 358-377 and Linda Pollock, 'Younger Sons in Tudor and Stuart England', History Today, 39 (1989), pp. 23-29. In The Demoiselle 1.2 220-232, Brome puts into the mouth of the now-landless Brookall a long indictment of the law. If the tenant in the tail*n520 Entail that determines the sequence and conditions of inheritance of an estate. But throughout here there is mildly obscene reference to genitalia. OED tail n1 5a, surviving mainly in US usage but common with various meanings in seventeenth-century English. See The Taming of the Shrew 2.1.215-219. See The Demoiselle 2.1 110-112 for more joking about tails and entails. discontinue*n9176 This is another instance of press correction. In some copies (British Library BL 18536, Henry E. Huntington Library 600202, National Art Library Dyce 25.E.45) this is misprinted: 'discontinee'. All other copies seen correct the error. the tail, and after he deceaseth*n3841 Mihil's wording is probably deliberately ambiguous and potentially insulting to his father. There are puns on 'seize' and 'disease', all suggesting an impatience with old and declining elders who stand in the way of their potential heirs. his discontinue, and so dieth seized, whereby the tenants descend to their issue, as to his cousin inheritable by force of the tail. In this case the tenants descend, who have right by force of the tail, a remitter in the tail taken for that in the law, shall put and adjudge him to be in by force of descent.   [Aside to the SHOEMAKER]   Pox on ye, speak something, good or bad, somewhat.*n4580 The tradesmen must sit silently for a moment, probably stunned by the incomprehesibility of Mihil's jargon.

240ShoemakerThe remitter, you say, is seized i’th’ tail?

241Mihil   [Aside to the SHOEMAKER]   Excellent, Shoemaker.   [Aloud]   I say so, and again, I say, that if the tenant in the tail enfeoff*n521 to invest with a fief; to put (a person) in possession of the fee-simple or fee-tail of lands, tenements, etc. (OED v. 1) his son, or his cousin, inheritable by force of the tail, the which son or cousin at the time of the feoffment is within age, and after the tenant in the tail dieth, this is a remitter to the heir in the tail, to whom the feoffment is made.   [Aside to the TAILOR]   Now, Tailor.

242TailorThink you so, sir?

243MihilLook either Fitzherbert, Perkins, or Dyer, and you shall find it in the second part of Richard Cordelyon.*n522 Law texts and laws are traditionally by regnal years: Richard, Cordelyon = Richard I, Coeur de Lion. (Cordelyon is a surname in use in the early seventeenth century.) The books referred to are: Sir Anthony Fitzherbert (c.1470-1538), Magnum abbreviamentum (printed in three parts between 1514 and 1517), otherwise known as La graunde abridgement; La novel natura brevium (1534); The New Boke of Justices of the Peas (1538); John (?) Perkins or Parkins (d. 1545?), Perutilis tractatus magistri Johannis Parkins interioris Templi socii (1528), then translated and published as Perkins' Profitable Book (1555); Sir James Dyer (1510-1582), Ascuns novel cases collectes per le jades tresreverend judge, Mounsieur Jasques Dyer (1586). So much for remitter. Now I’ll put a plain homespun case, as a man may say, which we call a moot case.†gg1662 an example of a legal issue suitable for discussion or debate; see also [GLOSS gg2784]

244ShoemakerAye, pray do, sir.

245Crosswill   [Aside]   Some father might take joy of such a son, now. This takes not me. No, this is not my way.

246MihilThe case is this.   Aside [to the TAILOR]*n9051 In the original printed edition the stage direction is printed in curved brackets within Mihil's line but is not italicised:
Mih. The case is this (aside) pull up your    Pull up your gowns*n524 ] grounds. BL 162.c.21 has 'grounds' printed; BL 18536 has g ounds, with r inserted by hand. It is conceivable that 'grounds' could mean 'the farthest extremity' but OED gives 'gownd' as a variant spelling of gown. The ms. annotator of Dyce E. 45 deletes r: gounds. closer and behanged.   [Aloud]   You are a tailor, and you a shoemaker.

247ShoemakerAnd you owe us money.

248MihilI put the case, I do, to you for a suit of clothes.

249TailorWell.

250MihilAnd to you for a pair of boots.

251ShoemakerTrue.

252MihilI have broke my day*n525 Failed to pay by the agreed date with you both. Suppose so.

253Shoemaker and TailorVery well, we do.

254MihilYou clap a sergeant†gg1097 officers of the law court who made arrests, served summons to attend trial, and enforced judgements (in use till 1680 according to the OED n. 4a) o’ my back. I put in bail, remove it, and carry it up into the upper court, with habeas corpus*n568 An essential tenet of English law, descending from Magna Carta, as it used to be in American law also. ; bring it down again into the lower court with procedendo†gg1663 Law Latin (in full: (de) proecedendo ad judicium): a writ which formerly issued out of the common law jurisdiction of the Court of Chancery, commanding a subordinate court to proceed to judgement, either when judgement had been wrongfully delayed, or when the action has been removed to a superior court by certiorari or other writ on insufficient grounds (OED) ; then take it from thence, and bring it into the Chancery with a Certiorari†gg1664 Law Latin: A writ, issuing from a superior court, upon the complaint of a party that he has not received justice from an inferior court, or cannot have an impartial trial, by which the records of the case are called up for trial in the superior court (OED) ; aye, and if you look not to’t, bring it out of the Chancery again, and thus will I keep you from your money till your suit and your boots be worn out before you recover penny of me.

255ShoemakerS’ly’d,*n571 God’s eyelid, a common intensitive or exclamation. but you shall not! Your father shall know all first.

256Mihil   [Aside to the SHOEMAKER]   S’foot,*n572 Christ’s foot, a common intensitive or exclamation. Shoemaker, wilt thou be an ass? I do but put a case, have you not seen it tried?

257TailorYes, very often.

258Crosswill   [Coming forward and revealing himself]   Away with books! Away with law! Away with madness. Aye, God bless thee, and make thee his servant, and defend thee from law, I say. Take up these books, sirrah    [BELT picks up MIHIL’s borrowed law books],   and carry them presently into Paul’s Churchyard,*n573 Paul’s Churchyard was the princpal centre of bookselling in the early modern period. d’ye see, and change them all for histories, as pleasant as profitable; Arthur of Britain, Primalion of Greece, Amadis of Gaul, and such like, d’ee see?*n574 Artus de la Petite Bretagne, a fourteenth-century French romance, translated as Arthur of Lytell Brytayne by Sir John Bourchier, Lord Berners, and printed perhaps in the 1560s; the first surviving text is from 1582. Primaleon of Greece, an anonymous Spanish romance printed in 1512, was printed in English translation by Anthony Munday (Book 1 1595; Book 2 1596; completed with a third book, 1619). Amadis de Gaul is also translated by Anthony Munday, Book 1 (c. 1590) from the French translation by Nicholas de Herberay; Munday's translation of Books 3 and 4 was printed in 1618.

259MihilI hope he does but jest.

260CrosswillAnd do you hear, sirrah?

261BeltAye,*n575 ] I sir.

262CrosswillGet Bell’s work*n576 Belt refers to the popular ballad of outlaws, Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesley, first printed around 1536 and frequently published for the next century and more. It was printed again in 1628, 1630, and 1632 - a popular ballad at the time of this play’s composition. , and you can, into the bargain.

263BeltWhich Bell, sir? Adam Bell, with Clim o’th’ Clough, and William of Cloudesley?

264CrosswillAdam Bell, you ass? Valiant Bell that killed the dragon.*n577 As the servant Belt incautiously points out two lines later, Crosswill is horribly confused here. 'Bel' - not 'Bell' - 'and the Dragon' refers to the deuterocanonical section (Chapter 14) of the Book of Daniel composed of two parallel stories in Greek, deriving from the Septuagint, but not Hebrew. Confirmed as part of the 'second canon' at the Council of Trent, and so included in Catholic bibles, many Protestant bibles did not include this section, regarding it as apocryphal. (In the Geneva Bible Apocrypha, it is 'The History of Bel and the dragon, which is the fourteenth chapter of Daniel after the Laten'; in the 1611 King James Bible Apocrypha, 'The history of the destruction of Bel and the Dragon, cut off from the end of Daniel'). In the first story, Daniel eventually destroys the idol Bel. In the second, Daniel kills the dragon worshipped by the Babylonians, and for this he is thrown (again) into the lions’ den. As Belt says, Crosswill is confusing Bel and the English national saint, St. George the Dragon-slayer. The confusion is comical, but there may be more. In Act 1, Crosswill has already mistakenly complained that his elder son, Gabriel, is puritanically offended by the cross on top of the new church in the Covent Garden Piazza ('I'll lay my life he has spied the little cross upon the new Church yond, and is at defiance with it' [CG 1.1.speech71]); Gabriel denies this, saying that he was looking at the would-be courtesan, his unrecognised cousin, Dorcas: 'truly, I was looking at that image; that painted idolatrous image yonder'. Cross or courtesan, Gabriel is offended by the image. Crosswill’s mistake concerning Bel and the Dragon calls up for the audience a notable story of iconophobia and iconoclasm. Belt corrects him: Crosswill surely means St George. But St George was a favourite cult of Charles I and his court, and the saint's image was also much contested, particularly in the symbolism of the Order of the Garter, with the associated cult of the Virgin. Charles I had appointed a commission of knights of the Garter in 1630 with the charge to restore the Order to purity and esteem; he had augmented the regalia of the Order adding a prominent cross and had rendered its ceremonies even more elaborate; Peter Paul Rubens had painted the king as St George in 1629-30, an image circulated widely in print and statuette. All this went against the more militantly Protestant antagonism to saints’ cults and iconography: Edward VI had rewritten constitutions of the Order to remove Popish references to the saint, the image being redescribed simply as that of an armed knight on horseback. See Pauline Gregg, King Charles I (Berkeley: California University Press, 1981), esp. pp. 254-5.

265BeltYou mean St. George.

266CrosswillSir Jolthead,†gg1665 a heavy-headed or thick-headed person; a blockhead (OED 2) do I not. I’ll teach you to chop logic with me.[CROSSWILL beats BELT]

267Mihil   [Aside]   S’foot, how shall I answer my borrowed books?   [Aloud]   Stay, Belt. Pray, sir, do not change my books.

268CrosswillSir, sir, I will change them and you too. Did I leave thee here to learn fashions and manners, that thou mightst carry thy self like a gentleman, and dost thou waste thy brains in learning a language that I understand not a word of?*n580 Crosswill’s horror at his son’s state reflects unease about the rapid increase in litigation and about the status of lawyers. Mihil is studying at the Inns of Court, as befits a gentleman. He may not become a lawyer, but legal education is of a kind appropriate to his social status, as is a period in the capital absorbing the approved standards of gentry conduct. But the debate he has with the Shoemaker and the Tailor, about inheritances and the alienation of property, is characteristic of attorneys and solicitors, the 'mechanicals' of the legal profession whose education was in the main by apprenticeship. Mihil's staged debate inadvertently suggests to his father that the son is, indeed, in the process of descending to the level of a tradesman, of abandoning the 'scientific' or 'theoretical' law, potentially compatible with gentility, for the 'practical' or 'mechanical', the law as trade, and manual trade at that. See C. W. Brooks, Pettyfoggers and Vipers of the Commonwealth: The 'Lower Branch' of the Legal Profession in Early Modern England [Cambridge Studies in English Legal History] (Cambridge: CUP, 1986), p. 136. This may have been particularly alarming to Crosswill given that Mihil talks of using the Court of Chancery, dominated by the Clerks in Chancery and their underclerks, not at all the company a gentleman should be keeping (Pettyfoggers and Vipers, p. 24). Mihil talks of issuing writs (procendendo and Certiorari): there were large numbers of men associated with the courts who made their livings by issuing and handling these writs, men concerned with what contemporaries called the 'practical' as opposed to the 'theoretical' part of the law (Pettyfoggers and Vipers, 11-12). Ha! I had been as good have brought thee up among the wild Irish*n3239 In the early modern period many of the English regarded the Irish as barbarous, particularly those who remained Catholic and the Gaelic speakers 'beyond the Pale'; and the term 'wild Irish' is frequently encountered. For instance, Fynes Moryson in The Itinerary writes that 'The wild and (as I may say) mere Irish, inhabiting many and large Provinces, are barbarous and most filthy in their diet'; elsewhere he comments, that 'these wild Irish are not much unlike to wild beasts'. Many authors claimed that the Irish descended from the Scythians, who by the early modern period were regarded as the epitome of ancient barbarity. See Andrew Hadfield and John McVeagh, eds., Strangers to that Land: British Perceptions of Ireland from the Reformation to the Famine (Gerards Cross: Colin Smythe, 1994); see pp. 55 and 58 for these quotations. .

269MihilWhy, alas, sir, had I not better keep myself within my chamber, at my study, than be rioting abroad, wasting both money and time, which is more precious than money? If you did know the inconvenience of company, you would rather encourage and commend my retired life, than any ways dehort†gg1666 discourage me from it.

270CrosswillWhy, sir, did not I keep company, think you, when I was young? Ha!

271MihilYes, sir. But the times are much altered and youth more corrupted now; they did not drink and wench in those days, but nay, O ’tis abominable in these.

272CrosswillWhy, this is that I feared, the boy’s turning meacock†gg1667 an effeminate person; a coward; a weakling (OED) too, after his elder brother. ’Twas time to look to him.

273NicholasWhy, Crosswill Mick? What, not up yet and behanged. Or ha’ ye a wench a bed w’ ye? Is this keeping your home?

274Mihil   [Aside]   S’foot, the rogue Rooksbill and his crew, I feared as much.

275NicholasBreak open the door, let me come to’t.

276MihilForbear, or behanged, you will undo me. My father’s here. I’ll meet you anon, as I am honest.

277NicholasYour father’s a clowterdepouch.*n584 See also as "clutterdepouch" in A Jovial Crew [JC 2.1.speech126]. Nay, I will come, then. What mademoiselle do you call father?

278Mihil   [Aside to NICHOLAS, ANTHONY, and CLOTPOLL]   You would not believe me. Pray be civil.

279Anthony   [Aside to MIHIL]   ’Tis so, we will.   [Aloud]   Cry mercy, you are busy. We will not moot†gg2784 to complain, argue, plead, discuss, dispute, esp. in a law case; to bring an action to court, to litigate (OED v. 1 and 2a); later, specifically to debate a hypothetical case, to take part in a moot (the OED cites this usage by Brome) today, then?

280MihilI hope you may excuse me, I’ll be w’ ye*n585 with ye anon.

281NicholasCome to the Goat Capricorn.*n586 The tavern is always called simply 'The Goat' in contemporary records, but this may have been its full name. We have the bravest new discovery.[NICHOLAS, ANTHONY, and CLOTPOLL] exit

282CrosswillHow now! What are these?

283MihilThey are gentlemen of my standing,†gg1668 of the same condition, students of law sir, that have a little over-studied themselves, and are somewhat –

284CrosswillMad. Are they not? And so will you be shortly, if you follow these courses. Mooting, do they call it? You shall moot nor mute here no longer. Therefore, on with your cloak and sword, follow me to the tavern, and leave me such long-tailed*n4581 Crosswill probably refers to the academic gowns being worn by the tradesmen in their lawyerly disguise. However, there may be an irony here, in that 'long-tailed' could in this period mean overly loquacious. The tradesmen have been anything but. company as these are, for I do not like them.

285MihilNo more do I, sir, if I knew how to be rid of ’hem.

286CrosswillI think thou hast ne’er a sword, hast thou, ha?

287MihilYes, sir.

288CrosswillWhere is it, sir? Let me see ’t, sir.

289Mihil’Tis here, under my bed, sir. –

290CrosswillWhy there’s a lawyer’s trick right, make his weapon companion with his piss-pot.†gg1669 chamber pot Fie, fie, here’s a tool indeed.   [CROSSWILL offers MIHIL money]   There’s money, sir, buy you a good one, one with the mathematical hilt*n589 Although I have not found another use of this phrase, its meaning seems clear. 'Mathematical hilt' probably refers to the 'shell' protecting the hand, part of the handle of a sword or rapier, which on fashionable swords was often a sophisticated piece of metalwork, here in geometrical patterns. I am grateful to the curatorial and research staff of the Royal Armories who have also tried to find other instances of 'mathematical hilt', but without success. , as they term it.

291Mihil   [MIHIL refuses the money]   It would do better in mathematical books, sir. Offer me no money, pray, sir, but for books.

292CrosswillGo to, you are a peevish Jack†gg1670 (as a common noun) a man of the common people, a lad, fellow, chap; especially a low-bred or ill-mannered fellow, a 'knave' (OED n1. 2a) , do not provoke me. Do not you owe me obedience? Ha!

293MihilYes, sir, I acknowledge it.

294Crosswill’Tis good you do. Well, take that money   [MIHIL takes CROSSWILL’s money];    and put yourself into clothes befitting your rank, do so. And let me see you squirting about without a weapon, like an attorney’s clerk in term-time,*n608 Again, Crosswill wants to differentiate his son from those whose trade is the law. Mihil may be studying in one of the Inns of Court but he has to indicate his gentle status through his clothes and accoutrements, including a flashy sword. and I’ll weapon you. What, shall I have a noddy†gg1671 a fool, a simpleton (Cf. NOD n, 2; now rare) (OED 1 and 2) of you? This frets him to the liver.*n610 In the 1659 text this line is run on as part of Crosswill’s speech, and it is retained as such in this edition. It is conceivable that Crosswill says it as an aside in response to an action by Mihil, who is pretending to take offense or be downcast. But Mihil is the one in this scene who seems conscious of how his adversary is responding and it also seems possible that this is his aside to the audience: 'I am successfully working my father into a fury'. Mihil will make a further aside after Crosswill’s next line. Go to, never hang the head for the matter. For I tell thee I will have it so, and herein be known what I am.

295Mihil   Aside   You are known sufficiently for your cross humour already, in which I’ll try you if I can make you double this money, for this will not serve my turn.

296CrosswillWhat, have you told it†gg1672 counted it after me? You had best weigh it, too.

297MihilNo, sir, but I have computed that for my present use, here is too much by half. Pray, sir, take half back.

298CrosswillBody o’ me, what a perverse knave is this, to cross me thus? Is there too much, say you? Ha!

299MihilYes, truly, sir.

300CrosswillLet me see ’t.   [CROSSWILL takes back the money]   Go thy ways, take thy musty books, and thy rusty whittle*n612 Crosswill scornfully denigrates his son by associating his existing sword with a tradesman’s knives rather than the weapons of a gentleman (a whittle being a (large) knife; see OED n2). here again. And take your foolish, plodding, duncy-coxcomely*n613 Otherwise unrecorded, 'duncy-cox' appears to mean foolish and scholarly, said in disdain. The OED has a single instance of 'Duncecomb', used in 1630 by John Taylor the Water Poet: 'I am no Duncecomb, Coxecombe, Odcomb Tom' ('To T. Coriat', Works III. 15/2).' course, till I look after you again. Come away, sirrah.[CROSSWILL] exits with BELT.

301MihilS’foot, who’s the gull now? Tailor, Shoemaker, you may go pawn your gowns for any money I am like to have.

302ShoemakerWe have all played the lawyers to pretty purpose, in pleading all this while for nothing. Well, sir, to avoid further trouble, I am content to withdraw my action, that is, pull off your boots again, and be jogging†gg1673 to depart or leave ... to move on, go on, be off (OED jog v, 4a); often used with a slightly mocking jocularity, as here (OED cites Shakespeare The Taming of the Shrew: 'There lies your way, You may be jogging while your boots are green' (III.ii.213)) .

303TailorAnd for my part, sir, I can do no less than take you by default and non-suit you.

304MihilVery good lawyers both. Is my father quite gone, Belt?

305BeltGone in a tempest of high displeasure, sir.   [BELT shows MIHIL more money]   And has sent you here all the money he had about him, and bids you refuse it if you dare; ’tis above twice the sum he offered you before. But good sir, do not refuse it. He swears he will try whether you or he shall have his will. Take heed you cross him not too much.

306MihilWell, at thy request, because thou shalt not have anger for carrying it back again, I will accept.[MIHIL accepts the money]

307BeltI thank you, sir. Consider, he’s your father, sir.

308MihilI do, most reverend Belt, and would be loth to cross him, although I may as much in taking his money as refusing it, for ought I know, for thou*n615 Mihil addresses Belt as 'thou', but Belt uses 'You', the difference indicating the master-servant status. know’st ’tis his custom to cross me and the rest of his children in all we do, to try and urge his obedience; ’tis an odd way. Therefore, to help myself I seem to covet the things that I hate, and he pulls them from me; and make show*n9177 makes show in the 1659 printing. The National Art Library Dyce 25.E.45 ms. annotator makes this emendation. of loathing the things I covet, and he hurls them doubly at me, as now in this money.

309BeltAre you so crafty?

310MihilYes, but do thou put it in his head, and I’ll pick out thy brains.*n616 If you reveal my practice, I’ll punish you.

311BeltYou never knew an old servingman treacherous to his young master. What? To the hopes o’th’ house? You will be heir, that’s questionless; for, to your comfort, your elder brother grows every day more fool than the other. But now the rest of the message is, that you make haste, and come to my master to the Goat in Covent Garden, where he dines with his new landlord today.

312MihilHe has taken a house, then?

313BeltO, a most delicate one, with a curious belle coney and all belonging to ’t most stately.

314MihilAt the Goat does he dine, sayest thou?

315BeltYes, sir.

316MihilMy crew are gone thither too. Pray Mars we fall not foul of one another. Well, go thy way, present my duty to him, I’ll follow presently. Tell him I took his money with much unwillingness.

317BeltAs lawyers do their fees. Let me alone, sir.*n617 Leave me to do it [BELT] exits

318MihilWell, Tailor and Shoemaker: you have put me to’t, but here’s your money.

319Shoemaker’Twas for that we did put you to ’t, sir.

320MihilLet’s see your bill, Tailor.

321TailorHere ’tis, sir, as ready as a watchman’s.*n618 The tailor puns on the word 'bill'. Watchmen carried weapons called bills: OED bill n1 b. [TAILOR presents his bill]

322MihilThen good words will pass it.†gg1674 act as the password    [To the TAILOR; MIHIL gives him money]   Seven pounds four shillings: tell†gg1675 count your money.   [To the SHOEMAKER; MIHIL gives him money]   Yours is fourteen shillings, boots and galloshes. There ’tis, and twelve pence to drink.

323ShoemakerI thank your worship.

324MihilAre you right, Tailor?

325TailorYes, and please you, sir.

326MihilThere’s a shilling for you too, to spend in bread.

327ShoemakerHe knows both our diets. We’ll make bold to take leave of your worship.

328MihilNot so bold as I’m glad I’m so well rid of you, most courteous gentlemen.   TAILOR [and] SHOEMAKER exit   To see what money can do; that can change men’s manners, alter their conditions! How tempestuous the slaves were without it! O thou powerful metal!*n621 Mihil’s ambiguous praise of the power of money is influenced by Volpone’s of gold at the opening of Ben Jonson’s play: Volpone I.i.22-25. What authority is in thee? Thou art the key to all men’s mouths. With thee a man may lock up the jaws of an informer, and without thee he cannot*n622 The parallel structure of the witticism seems to require something – “unlock”? - to be inserted here. This is also recognised by the Dyce 2 annotator, who adds “open”: “cannot open the lips of a lawyer”, a suggestion adopted here. open the lips of a lawyer.Exit.

329CrosswillDown, boy, and bid the cook hasten dinner.

330DrawerWhat will you please to drink in the meantime, sir?

331CrosswillI will not drink in the meantime, sir, get you gone.

332Drawer*n3278 1659: this Speech Prefix and the Drawer's speech are set as part of Crosswill's preceeding speech.    [Aside]   A fine old humorous gentleman.[DRAWER exits]

333CrosswillHold up your head, sirrah, and leave your precise folly. I’ll leave you to the wild world else, d’ ye see. Is the name of a tavern so odious to you? Ha! Your brother has vexed me sufficiently already, and perhaps he’ll refuse to come too! If he dares, let him. Welcome, Master Rooksbill, welcome, landlord, and your fair daughter, welcome, pretty one. Trust me, a pretty one indeed;*n623 Crosswill’s violence of speech and abrupt conduct are later a source of wonder to Clotpoll, who is 'struck with admiration at the old blade’s humour' (4.2), and Crosswill has indicated that in his youth he was as much a roisterer as any of the young men in the play. Here Crosswill’s response to meeting Lucy Rooksbill suggests that he indulges also in their habits of crude sexual appraisal and he continues to do this to Lucy, especially in Act 5, even when she is being proposed as a marriage partner for either of his sons. There may be a resemblance to Leontes in The Winter’s Tale and Shakespeare’s source, the eponymous protagonist of Robert Greene’s Pandosto, both lusting fathers, but in their cases with the additional problem of initially unrecognised potential incest. However, potential incest lurks in Brome’s play, in the need to separate Gabriel and his cousin Dorcas, and the possibility that Dorcas may herself be Crosswill’s illegitimate child. pray be acquainted with my daughter there. In your maiden-company, I hope she will not think the tavern such a bug’s nest*n4582 The meaning is clear (a dubious, dangerous place), but no other contemporary uses of this phrase have been found. as she did. I had much ado to draw my rebellious children to the tavern after me.

334RooksbillAnd truly, sir, ’tis the first to my knowledge that e’er my daughter came into.*n624 Taverns and inns are those dangerous places in which unstructured mating practices take place. Crosswill seems untroubled by this, but perhaps not Rooksbill, even though the latter limits his comments so as not to alienate his new tenant. Crosswill’s next speech, however, recognises that tavern-dwelling and tavern-visiting imperil reputations; but he has yet to have a socially-appropriate residence in which to entertain. See Diane O'Hara, Courtship and Constraint and Michelle O'Callaghan, The English Wits, for the associations of taverns in this period.

335CrosswillAll in good time she may increase in virtue.*n625 Crosswill again indulges in sexually ambiguous verbal play: combined with 'virtue' meaning chastity, 'increase' implies pregnancy. Crosswill’s children may be used to this but surely Lucy and her father are uncomfortable. But if it be a fault (as i’ my conscience it is a great transgression*n3297 1659: 'as i' my conscience in his thought it is a great transgression'. The doubling of phrases in 1659 - 'i' my conscience', 'in his thought' - does not make sense. I suspect Brome made an alteration while writing, currente calamo, and omitted to cancel one version or that the compositor has included both phrases, not seeing that one was struck out in the ms. being used, therefore. ), my unsettledness and unprovidedness else, where or how to entertain a friend, or feed myself, may well excuse us all, d’ ye see.

336RooksbillO, sir, I cannot enough admire that virtue in your son.

337CrosswillIt is a vice, as much a vice or more, as is your son’s, your cast-away’s, as you call him, that sucks no other air than that of taverns, taphouses,*n626 OED A house where beer drawn from the tap is sold in small quantities; an ale-house; sometimes in connexion with a brewery. Also, the tap-room of an inn. brothels, and such like. I would their extreme qualities could meet each other at half way, and so mingle their superfluities of humour unto a mean betwixt ’em. It might render them both allowable subjects†gg1676 worthy of sanction, approval, or acceptance (without rising to praise); satisfactory, acceptable (OED a and n, 2) *n627 Acceptable members of the community, whereas now both young men’s behaviour is extreme. For the meanings of allowable, see [GLOSS gg1676]. , where now the one’s a firedrake in the air,*n628 Used for a fiery dragon, a meteor, or a firework, firedrake is also frequently used in this period to label a violent, quarrelsome young man (see OED, firedrake, n. and the exemplifying quotations). and t’other a mandrake in the earth,*n629 Mandrakes were said to be sexually active or wedded under the ground. Davenant, Gondibert (1651) 2.4.48: 'our love must grow Unseen, like Mandrakes wedded under ground'. both mischievous. See how he stands like a mole-catcher.*n630 Molecatcher seems to be a relatively unspecific insult in the period. See OED mole-catcher n1. What dirty, dogged humour was I in when I got him*n631 The theory of the importance to a child’s nature of the frame of mind of the parents at the moment of conception is most famously invoked in Lawrence Sterne’s Tristram Shandy, with the calamitous distraction of the hero’s father and mother at a crucial moment (Book 1, Chapter 1). But Sterne’s joke depends on the acceptance by some of this theory. Crosswill wonders what his mood could possibly have been when Gabriel, the moody Puritan, was conceived. , ’trow?†gg448 'do I believe it?' (OED v)

338RooksbillHowe’er his carriage seems distasteful unto you, I could afford (with your allowance, to make conditions of estate agreeable) to give all that is mine to him with my daughter.*n633 Rooksbill proposes a marriage between his daughter and Gabriel. Ever the man of business he moves directly to the question of a marriage settlement that might persuade Crosswill, his social superior, to agree. 'Estate' is nicely ambiguous: Crosswill’s 'estate' or status is that of a gentleman (OED n. 3a), but Rooksbill, a man of rising fortune, can provide money (OED 2a).

339Crosswill   Aside   What a mechanic†gg1677 belonging to or characteristic of the lower part of the social scale or the lower classes; vulgar, coarse; among the exemplifying quotations in the OED is this from John Donne’s 'Satire 4': "He smacked, and cried, / He’s base, mechanic, coarse."(OED a and n, 3) slave is this, to think a son of mine, howe’er I underrate him, a fit mate to mingle blood with his Moorditch breed.*n635 Crosswill disdains the citizen, the man of trade, commerce, and business, playing with the name of a well-known area of open land in the City of London. Moorfields was just inside the northern boundary of the City. Class disdain rears its ugly head again when Crosswill contemptuously labels Lucy a 'moor hen', a female child of the commercial class he disdains. True, his estate is great, I understand it, but of all fowl I love not moorhens. Such another motion would stir me to roar*n636 Crosswill’s choice of verb again associates him with socially disruptive crew of young men, the roaring boys. Clotpoll asks in Act 1, scene 1, if he’ll 'ever learn to roar and carry it as you do'; Crosswill threatens to return to the disruptive conduct of his youth, targeting those of lower social class, as Mihil had threatened to do to the masters of the Tailor and Shoemaker with his 'crew' in the previous scene. him down the tavern stairs.

340RooksbillWhat do you think on ’t, sirs?*n637 Rooksbill includes Gabriel in this question.

341CrosswillHeaven grant me patience!

342RooksbillWill you consider of it, Master Crosswill?

343Crosswill   [Aside]   I was never so put to’t. I wish we had a stickler.†gg1678 a moderator or umpire at a tournament, a wrestling or fencing match, etc., appointed to see fair play, and to part the combatants when they have fought enough, hence one who intervenes as a mediator between combatants or disputants (OED 1, 1) *n638 Crosswill seems to want something or someone to get between him and Rooksbill, less to mediate than simply to prevent further discussion of an offensive proposal. Rooksbill is too socially obtuse to know that his persistence is unwelcome.    [Aloud]   I muse that Master Cockbrain stays*n639 is delayed thus.

344RooksbillYou do not mind*n640 Either Rooksbill is making a statement (that Crosswill is not paying attention to, or thinking on, his proposal); or he is asking a question (is Crosswill offended by the proposal?). He is becoming aware of Crosswill’s disdain and his hackles are rising. my motion,*n641 suggestion sir.

345Crosswill’Uds precious,†gg1679 God's precious blood I mind nothing, I am so crossed in mind that I can mind nothing, nor will I mind nothing, d’ ye see. Why comes not Master Cockbrain? Ha!

346RooksbillYet you mind him, it seems.*n643 Rooksbill wryly notes that Crosswill has attention enough to be thinking of Cockbrain. By this point in the conversation he is surely under no illusions concerning Crosswill’s attitude. But he, sir, cannot come, and desires you to hold him excused. He’s gone about some special undertaking, for the good of the commonwealth, he says.

347CrosswillFart*n3298 The close proximity of 'commonwealth' and 'fart' suggests that Brome is alluding to the much-loved comic poem, 'A Censure of the Parliament Fart'. The fart was let in the House of Commons in 1607 by one Henry Ludlow or, in his sleep, by his father, Sir Edward Ludlow, and was immediately the subject of witty, ex tempore verse. Some of this dwelt on the fart as heritable property, of obvious relevance to this act of The Weeding of Covent Garden: ''twas lawfully done / For this fart was entailled from father to son'. The 'Parliament Fart' poem continued to be copied and embellished for decades. See Michelle O'Callaghan, The English Wits: Literature and Sociability in Early Modern England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), especially pp. 81-101. for his undertaking; all the world is bent to cross me.

What, is my young master come? Ha!

348BeltMy young master, Master Mihil, will be here presently; he said he would follow me at heels, sir.

349CrosswillAnd why not come before you, sir? Does he not think that I have waited long enough, sir? Sure, I’ll cross somebody under that knave’s pate of yours, d’ y’ see.[CROSSWILL beats BELT]

350Belt   [Aside]   Thus when anybody angers him, I am sure to hear on’t.

351CrosswillSo, now my spleen is a little palliated, let me speak with you, Master Rooksbill. Get you down, sirrah, and bring me word dinner is not ready and I’ll give you as much more, d’ye’see.

352Belt   [Aside]   That’s his way to his stomach.

353KatherineAnd is your brother, that your father says is so ungracious, so well acquainted with my brother Mihil, say you?

354LucyOh, all in all, he’s not so familiar with any man, if Mihil Crosswill be your brother, as ’tis manifest.

355KatherineI would not that my father knew it, for all I can expect from him but his blessing. But does your father know it?

356LucyNo, I would not he should mistrust*n4583 With the emphasis on trust in this speech ('mistrust', 'in trust', 'that trust'), the audience probably recalls the tense and mistrustful discussion in Act 2, Scene 1, between Mihil and the tradesmen. Lucy and Katherine's exchange of confidences here makes a sharp contrast, but also suggests the perilousness of giving away so much in this competitive environment. it for all he has, blessing and all; and now that I have found you love your brother so well, I will make over my reason and my counsel in trust with you, hoping you will not wrong that trust.*n644 OED make v 94 a. (a) trans. To hand over (sometimes spec. by a formal agreement); to transfer the possession of or responsibility for (a thing, an undertaking, etc.) from oneself to another. Lucy is engaging in her own version of trade here, somewhat daringly giving her most valuable and dangerous secrets to her beloved's sister without receiving anything equivalent in return. But she is also issuing something of a challenge to Katherine. Lucy’s diction - commercial and legal - implicitly asks to what degree Katherine is or can be free of her father’s social prejudices.

357KatherineIf I do, may the due price of treachery be my reward.

358LucyI love your brother, lady,*n645 Lucy’s formality of address expresses both deference and dignity; she also comes close to iambic pentameter in this first sentence. Again, there is a palpable air of challenge here: Lucy knows she is risking much by revealing herself to Katherine (later Mihil will criticise her for so doing) and she ensures that Katherine is aware that she takes these risks knowingly. and he loves me. The only good act that ever my brother did was to bring us acquainted, and is indeed all that he has to live on. For I do succour him with many a stolen piece*n646 Nick’s sole means of support is secret channeling of money to him by his sister, Lucy. It is this that Mihil, by then Nick’s brother-in-law, will use against him at the end of the play: Nick must go through with the marriage to Dorcas because otherwise he will be cut off without an income, the approved marriage between Mihil and Lucy having removed Nick's own ability to blackmail with the threat to expose their relationship. for the felicity he brought me in your brother’s love. Now, my father, whose irreconcileable hate has forever discarded my brother, should he but dream of their acquaintance, would poison all my hopes.

359KatherineBut let me ask you, is there an hope betwixt you and my brother ever to come together?

360LucyYes, and a way he has for ’t, which I understand not yet.

361KatherineTrust me, I pity you both, your case is very dangerous.*n647 Full of threat, but also delicate. Is there an undertow of the medieval daunger, especially with quasi-heraldic and chivalric achievement in the next line?

362LucyLove’s above all adventures,*n648 Love can surmount all difficulties. the more hard the achievement is, the sweeter the reward.

363Katherine   [Aside]   I like her spirit well.

364CrosswillYou, sir, come hither, what is hammering in your head now? Is’t not some synodical*n649 Pertaining to a presbytery. See OED synodal 2 b. transf. Connected with or related to church government by synodal assemblies, presbyterian. See also the exemplifying quotation from Sir Edward Dering, A Collection of Speeches ... on Religion (1642): 'You will enlive the same men to be now synodal, who were before but convocational'. question to put unto the brethren, concerning Whitson-ales and May-games?*n650 See [NOTE n362] Ha!

365GabrielSurely, sir, I was premeditating a fit thanksgiving to be rendered before meat in taverns, according to the present occasion which the time and place administreth, and that as the spirit shall enable me, shall be delivered before you in due season.

366CrosswillI am glad I know your mind; for that trick, my zealous son, you shall come in at half-dinner, like a chafing-dish of coals when the sauce is cold, to make use of the heat of your spirit; d’ ye see. I love not meat twice dressed.

367RooksbillGood sir, put the proposition to him that I made. My affection to him urges it more and more, I never was so taken with a man.

368CrosswillBut what’s that to your daughter? Ha!

369RooksbillThe same affection governs her, she is not mine else.

370CrosswillWell, hold your peace. And was that your spiritual meditation?

371GabrielYes, verily.

372CrosswillCome, sir, at this gentleman’s request I will now put a question to you concerning the flesh. What think you of yond virgin there, his daughter? Can you affect her so well as to wish her to be your wedded wife?

373GabrielYou mean, espoused in holy matrimony?

374CrosswillYes, I mean so.

375Gabriel   [GABRIEL hums a] Psalm tune [and sings a few words of a hymn]*n3279 1659: Gab. hum hum hum Psalm tune. How happy.    “How happy ...”*n651 The little phrase 'How happy' could refer to one of a number of psalms and their settings. In the Geneva Bible, Psalm 133 could be a candidate: 'O how happy a thing it is, / and joyful for to see / Brethren together fast to hold / The band of amitie.' Alternatively, this could refer to the anthem by Nathaniel Giles (c.1558-1634), 'O how happy a thing it is'. Giles was Master of the Children of the Chapel Royal (and was involved in the abduction of Salomon Pavy); he had produced plays in the Blackfriars and was much involved with the theatre.

376Crosswill   [Aside]   But do thou say “yes, verily” to that and, as I hope to have peace in my grave, I’ll break the king’s peace on thy pate presently.

377GabrielIt is a weighty question, and requires due premeditation in a religious answer; pray give me leave to take advice –

378RooksbillWhat says he, sir?

379CrosswillHe says he will talk with a cunning*n652 Rooksbill’s response, 'Sure you mistake him, sir!', is abrupt and confrontational, suggesting that he recognises Crosswill as again indulging in an obscene and immature play on words, as in the modern 'cunning stunts', 'cunning linguists', etc. man about her.

380RooksbillSure you mistake him, sir.

381VintnerYou are welcome, Gentlemen.

Will! Harry! Zachary!*n653 The original printed text has as a stage direction 'Goat names'. In all likelihood these are the names of actual contemporary waiters at The Goat Tavern, introduced for directness of local reference and colour. There is no confirmation of that supposition in contemporary records, however.

382GabrielZachary is a good name.

383Vintner   [Calling to Goat tavern servers offstage]*n2202 1659: 'he (rings the bell)' is set as a part of the Vintner's speech.    Where are you?   Rings the bell*n3117 In 1659 this phrase is within parentheses but not italicized in the Vintner's speech.    Show up into the Phœnix. Is the Checque empty?*n654 The Phoenix, the Cheque, the Dolphin, the Elephant, the Maidenhead, and the Boar are the names of private rooms, in all likelihood real rooms at The Goat Tavern.

384CrosswillHoyday, here’s a din.

385DrawerA pottle†gg1680 a measure of capacity for liquids (also for corn and other dry goods, rarely for butter), equal to two quarts (four pints or half a gallon): now abolished (OED 1) of Canary to the Dolphin, score.*n656 Add to the bill a pottle of Canary wine [DRAWER exits]

386VintnerYou’re welcome, gentlemen.   [Calling to Goat Tavern servers offstage]   Take up the lilly-pot.†gg1681 an ornamental vase imitating the ‘lily-pot’ of sacred art; in the early seventeenth applied specifically to a tobacco-jar (OED 2 quotes this line of Brome's play) Knock[ing heard offstage]*n2203 1659: knock

387Drawer   [Calling offstage]   Half a dozen of clean pipes and a candle for the Elephant. They take their own tobacco.[Noise heard from offstage of pots being
thrown and clinking of drinking vessels]*n3118 1659: In right margin: Pots flie clink.

388VintnerWhose room do they foul, sirrah?   Calling offstage   Harry! Harry?[Sound of] bell [being rung offstage]*n3119 1659: '(bell)', set as part of the Vintner's speech.

389GabrielDo elephants take tobacco?

390VintnerCarry up a Jordan†gg1682 a kind of bottle: according to OED this was chiefly used by physicians or alchemists; or was the term for a chamber-pot (OED) for the Maidenhead, and a quart of white muscadine for the Blue Boar.[DRAWER] exits

391CrosswillNow, methinks, the muscadine*n659 Muscadine is wine made from sweet Muscat grapes. But Crosswill is clearly making an obscene joke here, drawing on an obscure sexual use of the word. Nicholas Udall’s translation of Erasmus Apophthegmes 137b, may reflect this: 'Well favoured or beautiful strumpets he avouched to be like unto bastard [a sweet Spanish wine] or muscadine'. There is probably a similar, obscene jest in 'a Jordan for the Boar'. for the Maidenhead, and the Jordan for the Boar were better.

392[Drawer]   [Heard offstage]*n2207 1659: within    By and by, by and by!*n3124 1659: set as part of Crosswill's previous speech.

393CrosswillWhat variety of noises is here? And all excellent ill sounds.

394GabrielSuch cries as these went forth before the desolation of the great city.*n660 Referring to the destruction of Jerusalem in CE 70.    Fiddling [of] rude tunes [heard offstage]*n3127 1659: Italicized and in right margin: Fidling rude tunes.    O profane tinkling, the cymbals of Satan, that tickle the ear with vanity, to lift up the mind to lewdness. Mine ears shall be that of the adder against the song of the serpent.*n661 Adders have no ears. Gabriel continues with his scriptural vocabulary and cadences. Satan is often said to have sung 'the song of the serpent' to tempt Eve to eat of the apple in Eden.

395RooksbillO rare, in a young man!

396GabrielI will roar out aloud to drown your incantations. Yea, I will set out a throat even as the beast that belloweth.

397RooksbillMost happy youth!

398CrosswillHold your peace, sirrah, or I’ll make you bellow for something.

399Mihil’Sfoot – back, Nick, to your own room. Thy father’s here too, as I breath.

400Nick.I vow.[NICHOLAS] exits

401Mihil   [Aside]   My Lucy too, as I live. How the devil got they acquainted? Sure, he’s his landlord. ’Tis so.

402CrosswillDare you come, sir? You should have stayed now till you had been sent for.

403MihilVerily, sir.

404CrosswillAre you at your “verilies” too? Ha!

405MihilBut for displeasing you, I had rather have grazed on Littleton’s Commons*n2206 Sir Thomas Littleton's Tenures is the first law book printed in England, in 1481, a year after the author's death. It was continuously reprinted and translated, and was the subject of one of the classics of legal scholarship, Sir Edward Coke's Commentary upon Littleton (1628). Mihil is again taunting his father by alluding to his supposed study of property and inheritance. , or ha’ fasted this fortnight, than come for my repast into this wilderness*n4584 Mihil's word plays on ideas of the contrast between the garden and the wilderness, with the irony that he claims that the new development of Covent Garden has become a social and moral wilderness. ; but you will ha’ it so.

406CrosswillYou are in the right, sir, I’ll have it so indeed, I’ll know why I shall not else. What, do you know nobody here?

407MihilI cry them mercy! My good brother – and my loving sister.[Greets GABRIEL and KATHERINE]

408Rooksbill   [Aside]   But what virtuous men has this man to his sons, and how they thrive in grace against his will, it seems.

409MihilWhat gentlewoman is this of your acquaintance, sister?

410Katherine*n3128 In the 1659 text this speech is assigned to Lucy, but Mihil's address to his 'sister' and her response 'brother' confirm that this is to Katherine. The Folger Shakespeare Library B4872 ms. annotator also makes this correction.    [Aside to MIHIL]   ’Tis well dissembled, brother, but I know your cunning.

411Mihil   [Aside to LUCY]   Have you betrayed me?

412Lucy   [Aside to MIHIL]   Mum,†gg1683 be silent Master Mihil, mum.

413Vintner   [Heard offstage]   Harry! Harry!

414Drawer   [Calling to offstage]   By and by.

415Crosswill*n3129 In the 1659 printing this speech is assigned to the Drawer but should be spoken by Crosswill. Several ms. annotators make this emendation. What devil art thou that roarest in mine ear so?CROSSWILL beats the DRAWER

416DrawerHold, I beseech you, I come to wait upon you.

417CrosswillWhat, with a “by and by”, that strikes into my head as sharp as a stiletto?

418DrawerI come to tell you, sir, that your table’s covered†gg1684 to spread a cloth or the like over the upper surface of (a table); especially in preparation for a meal, to lay the cloth; survives in 'cover charge' (OED v. 1d) in a fairer room and more private, your meat is ready to go up, and all in a readiness.

419CrosswillNow thou art an honest fellow, there’s a couple of shillings for thee. Have us out of thy windmill here, I prithee, and thy by and bys.All exit