ACT FOUR*
n7245
Scene One: At the beginning of the fourth act we meet another new character, Timothy Hoyden's half-brother Tom, who unlike his aspirational sibling, speaks in a strong regional Somerset dialect like Coulter. He has come to London in search of his brother and has apparently run into Coulter who was leaving the city following his summary dismissal. They have teamed up to try and save Tim from the clutches of the city scammers led by Moneylacks, and some richly resonant exchanges are a feature of scenes between them. Their meeting also enables further exposition and backstory to be conveyed to the audience. Tim's mother revealed on her deathbed that Tim was the son of a gentleman and gave him instructions to learn to be a gentleman himself and then to go visit his uncle Striker in London. The audience now starts to piece all this together and makes connections with the story told by Friswood in Act 2 about the pregnant sister Striker cast out into the streets and from whom no more has been heard in the interim years. As Coulter is explaining the full details of how his brother is being abused by his London companions, Friswood enters onstage and it becomes clear that they have been walking towards Striker's residence where she now greets them. She treats them with considerable scorn, stating that she has no need to be purchasing their livestock. This suggest that the rural attire of Coulter and Tom will resemble the drovers who regularly bought their cattle and poultry to the London markets like Smithfield for sale. Once they reveal the purpose of their visit she tells them that Striker is very sick, possibly dying, following the shock provoked by news of his granddaughter. She asks them to wait in an adjoining room of the house (i.e. offstage). At this point, Touchwood arrives, apparently to gloat over his enemy's suffering and demise. He asks if any news has been heard of his reprobate son, Samuel, thereby rubbing salt into the family wound. He continues in this scene to struggle to keep his 'secret' not realising that Friswood has informed Striker of Annabel's supposed pregnancy and the cause. Striker is carried onstage in a chair - of the kind used for medical situations in the early modern period and akin to modern bath chairs in residential homes. The image is, though, an intriguing prefiguring of the sedan chair episode in the final act. A curate is also present in the household, presumably there to comfort the dying Striker. He is shocked by Touchwood's vitriolic comments and aggressive language, which go against all his notion of neighbourliness and customary behaviour (this play, as we have seen, is very interested in social codes and the spatial constructs that feed into those codes and practices such as notions of the neighbourhood or parish). Friswood now decides to 'reveal' Annabel's pregnancy to Touchwood and he has to feign surprise at the news. he celebrates his son's actions and says he will certainly not be allowed to marry Annabel now that she is effectively 'damaged goods' in the eyes of society: 'My son shall not ride/ In his old boots upon his wedding night.' Striker does exactly what Friswood hopes in response to Touchwood's glee and decides to defend Annabel against all odds. He decides not to cast her out but says he will love her and her child when it is born. The curate meanwhile still tries to advocate neighbourliness but to little avail. The scene descends into physical violence when Touchwood kicks Friswood and the struggle is only broken up by the arrival into the room of Tom and Coulter. Tom breaks up the fight and orders Touchwood from the house, referring to Striker as his uncle in the process. The curate leaves with Touchwood and Striker now asks Tom why he regards himself as his nephew. He wants more proof that Audrey, his sister, married Tom's father. Tom and Coulter therefore set off to seek additional proof - in particular Tim's 'zertification' or parish certificate of birth. This is one of several paper documents that form plot catalysts and stage properties in this play. Once they have left the stage, though, it becomes clear that Striker is beginning to believe the story. He summons Annabel and formally forgives her. She performs the role of dutiful daughter in this exchange, asking for forgiveness and promising obedience.
Friswood, having seen the others out, now returns to announce the arrival of Sir Arnold Cautious at the house (he has come to sue for Annabel's hand in marriage on Walter's behalf). Striker remains in his chair and offers Sir Arnold a seat so that they can converse on a level. The discussion is ostensibly about Walter as a prospective husband for Annabel but Striker paints him as dissolute and not good enough for his pure daughter. Cautious meanwhile, having been told Annabel is a spotless virgin, now wants this 'perfect' bride for himself. Striker, of course, is concealing what he thinks he knows about her pregnancy in conducting these negotiations. The financial transaction of marriage is what is stressed throughout, as Striker seeks to confirm how much Walter is worth and the value of Annabel's dowry besides. Annabel is then resummoned and, on seeing her physical beauty, Cautious is determined to marry her himself, rapidly shedding any sense of loyalty to his own nephew. He comforts himself with the thought that he is protecting Annabel from Walter's slightly wilder reputation. Gilbert then arrives, his arm bandaged in a scarf. He claims to have been attacked by Walter (the audience will read this as further playacting on behalf of their plot to get Samuel and Annabel together)and asserts that the fight with Bounce the soldier was feigned (which is true) and that he has come to warn Annabel against Walter as a prospective husband. In the process he manages to get another letter to Annabel, while the match between her and Cautious appears to be a done deal by the end of the scene.
n7245
4.1
TOM Hoyden [and] COULTER [enter].
680Tom*n6353
Tom Hoyden's speeches have all been tagged as being delivered in a distinct dialect, since, like Coulter, he speaks in Somerset dialect. An easy key is to read his 'v' as an 'f': for example, 'vather' for 'father'; his 'ch' for 'w' as in 'chill' for 'will'; and his 'z' as an 's': for example, 'zelf' for 'self', though this is not 100 per cent consistent. On the whole a phonetic spelling is offered for the terms in Tom's speeches. For a fuller exploration of Somerset dialects and their usage on the early modern stage, see Blank (1996), although intriguingly The Sparagus Garden is not one of the Brome plays she offers as an example of stage dialect in her discussion.
Is it possible that half this can be true, that a half brother of mine can be made such an ass all over?
n6353
681CoulterTis all true, as I am a cursen†gg4182
Christian (dialect)
fellow, Master Thomas, every word on’t: I scorn to lie in a syllabub†gs879
syllable (in Somerset dialect)
, I. What luck had I to meet you!*n6354
Coulter obviously ran unexpectedly into Tom Hoyden as he was leaving London having been summarily dismissed from the service of his brother Tim in the previous act.
I never thought to zee you at London.
gg4182
gs879
n6354
682TomS’daggers, death, it has as good as veezed*n6359
Feezed, frightened (dialect form).
me out o’my wits to think on’t: was my vather’s*n6360
That is: father's (dialect).
blood zo quaisome*n6361
Quarrelsome (dialect).
to him (with a mischief to’t) that he must let it out*n6362
i.e. have the blood purged from his body. There is a subterranean theme throughout the play to do with bloodletting and purging that suggests Brome was well aware of some of the more contentious issues surrounding the circulation of the blood and medical practice. A key figure in this debate in the 1630s was William Harvey and it is possible that all of the pseudo-medical references as well as references to herbalism as a medical practice in the play are partly a parody of recognisable medical authorities of the time.
to be a gentleman? Because his mother was one by her own report? For our own parts we nother*n6363
That is: neither (dialect).
know nor care where hence she coame, nor whither she’s gone, but dead she is. She brought my vather a good purse o’money and kept another in store it zeems, till she could
keep’t no longer; and then bestowed it well and wisely upon chitty vace*n6364
'shitty face' (dialect)
her zon to make him a geantleman and told him what great house he coame on by her side for he was a Striker forzooth; and ga’n directions to vind an old uncle of his here in Cuckoldshire, one Master Striker. But virst she bade him put his zelf into vashion, and be sure to bear’s zelf like a gentleman; and he has ta’en a wise course to compass†gg4248
contrive, accomplish (OED)
it, it zeems. I warrant he ha’ made a vool o’his vour hundred pound by this time.
n6359
n6360
n6361
n6362
n6363
n6364
gg4248
683CoulterAy, and o’his zelf too, and his cony-catchers†gg4246
literally 'rabbit catchers'; but used proverbially in early modern England to mean cheaters or con artists
ha’ handled him. And you had zeen’t, you would ha’be pissed yourzelf vor woe, how they blooded†gg4247
purged of blood
him.
gg4246
gg4247
684TomAh.
686TomAh.
687CoulterA bots†gg4250
parasitical worm, often found in horses and cattle
light on’em; ’twould ha made a dog zick to zee’t, how like a scalded pig he looked.
gg4250
688TomHa, ha, ha.
689CoulterAnd then how they did veeden with a zort of zlip zlaps*n6366
The dialect term for the foodstuffs Tim Hoyden has been made to eat by his torturers.
not all worth a’mess o’milk porridge to make him vine vorsooth.
n6366
690TomAh.
691CoulterYoule zee zuch an altrication*n6449
Alteration (dialect).
in him as never was zeen in a brother.
n6449
692TomBut I wo’not zee’n yet as voul a clown as I am and as vine a gentleman as he is. I have a trick i’my sconce†gg4170
head, especially the crown or top of the head (OED n. 2)
to make a younger brother one.
gg4170
693CoulterAy, that would be zeen now.
694TomI ha’t, and’tis a vine one. I came to London to zeek the vool my brother and ha the same directions from our curate (to whom my mother told all) that Tim had to vind his uncle Striker’s house, and I ha’ quired*n6450
enquired, sought (dialect form)
it out; and this is it, and thou zhalt zee what I chill do now. [Calls offstage] Who are within?
n6450
FRISWOOD enters to them.
695FriswoodWho would you speak with?
696TomBy your leave vorsooth, I would speak with the master o’the house; I understand his worship’s name is Master Striker.
697FriswoodHe is so, sir, but he is not in case to buy any cattle*n6367
Drovers regularly came to the city to sell their animals and this is partly behind Friswood's reference. It is also a means of speaking condescendingly to these provincial visitors to Striker's household.
at this time.
n6367
698TomNor do I come to zellen any; my coming is of a dead body’s errand vorsooth.
700TomI pray vorsooth, and you be old enough (as it zeems you be) to remember when my mother was a maid, did you know a zuster*n6368
sister (dialect)
of Master Striker’s that was married into Zummerzetshire?
n6368
701FriswoodWhat was her name, I pray?
702TomHer cursen†gg4182
Christian (dialect)
name was Audrey, she zed, and a Striker she was bevore she was married; but my vather made a Hoyden*n6369
A hoyden was, quite literally, a rude, ignorant or boorish person. Tom is, however, referring to the surname that Audrey Striker acquired on marrying his father.
.
gg4182
n6369
704TomYes, Hoyden, zo I zay; there be very good vokes*n6370
folks, people (dialect)
o’the name, as you shall well know; I cham one myzelf, and she need not be ashamed, I wus*n6451
I think (dialect form).
, o’the kin she coame on to hugger mugger†gg4253
to keep secret, conceal (OED v.)
it as she did to her dying day.
n6370
n6451
gg4253
705FriswoodMost wonderful, but is she dead?
706TomYes, vaith she’s deed, and as sumptiously buried though I zay’t as any yeoman’s wife within ten mile of Taunton*n5912
Village in Somerset.
any time these ten and twenty year.
n5912
707FriswoodPray what were you to her?
708TomI tell you, my vather married her; and I should be her zon I think.
709FriswoodGood heaven, how things will come about!
710TomCoulter, keep thy countenance, Coulter; I’ll make’em believe I am her very natural zon, zee what will come on’t.
712FriswoodYour uncle Striker at this time is very sick, sir; but I will acquaint him with your desire. Pray, walk into the next room the while, sir.
713Tom [Conversing with COULTER as they walk offstage] If he should die now, Coulter, and make me his heir?
714CoulterAy marry, master, so you might make a better journey on’t than the gentleman your brother.[COULTER and TOM] ex[it]
715FriswoodThis to me is the greatest wonder of all: that I am presently possessed of my Mistress Sullen Sickness which has e’en drawn him to death’s door, and my Mistress’s unfortunate condition are nothing to this country hoyden†gg3964
a rude, ignorant or awkward fellow; a clown, boor (OED, n; obsolete)
’s relation.
gg3964
TOUCHWOOD enters
Oh, Master Touchwood, you are the welcom’st gentleman that ever could come into so heavy a house!
716TouchwoodA stinking one it is I am sure: that nasty carrion thy master is i’my nose already. I think I were best go no further.
717FriswoodLet not the sadness of this place dismay you.
718TouchwoodBut is he dead already, ha?
719FriswoodNot altogether dead, sir.
720TouchwoodThe worse luck, and how does your mistress? [Laughs] Ha, ha, ha; well, well, I say nothing.
721FriswoodShe is in bodily health, sir, but very sad and much disconsolate, poor damsel.
722TouchwoodNot for her grandsire is she? If the worst dog he keeps howls for him, I’ll worry sheep with mine own teeth and truss†gg4254
send packing, cause to flee (OED v. 4c)
for him. But why is she sad, prithee tell me? [Laughs] Ha, ha, ha.
gg4254
723FriswoodI marvel at your mirth, sir.
724Touchwood [Aside] I would now give her a new gown to tell me the true cause that I might save mine oath and roar out my rejoicings.
’Twas a devilish trick of the rascals to bind me by oath never to speak of it but to those that should tell me of it first. I have such a coil†gg4255
a bother, an ado (OED n. 3)
to keep it in now. [To FRISWOOD] Prithee, tell me, what has the old traveller that is now bound for the Low Countries gi’n thy mistress in his will, canst tell?
gg4255
725FriswoodAlas, he is offended with her. She has displeased him in somewhat; that is the main cause of his mortal sickness.
726Touchwood [Aside] That’s my boy, there boy, there, that was a home blow.
727FriswoodShe comes not at him, sir, nor dares not see him: do you know anything by her, sir?
728TouchwoodNo, no, no, not I; [Aside] S’bones*n6452
S'bores (Q). More likely reading is as a version of the oath 'God's bones' hence the emendation.
, I bit my tongue too hard.
n6452
729FriswoodIf you do, sir, would you would speak a good word for her that he may die in charity with her.
730Touchwood [Aside] The jade†gg532
on the analogy with an exhausted horse, a jade is an overused prostitute (or more crudely: a clapped-out tart)
jeers†gg3211
(v) to treat with scorn (OED 2)
me. [To FRISWOOD] I’ll stay no longer i ’ the house.
gg532
gg3211
731FriswoodNay, good sir, say not so after so many messages and entreaties, by all the best o’the parish*n6453
Friswood's conjuration here of the judgement of the neighbourhood or parish as carrying a palpable social force in Caroline community is attested to by similar references elsewhere in the play.
, and an exhortation made to you by the minister himself: did you vouchsafe to come, and will you now come short to see my master, now the doctors have given him over and he is dying?
n6453
732TouchwoodI confess ’twas my desire to see that dying that brought me hither: where is he? I’ll hold my nose and have at him.
733FriswoodI hope you will be friends with him now, sir; for he’s e’en agoing*n6371
That is: even now dying.
.
n6371
734TouchwoodFriends? I’ll rather go with him and fight it out by the way.
STRIKER enters, brought in a chair*n7247
Striker is brought in here in a medical chair (sometimes called bath chairs in contemporary references), but the image is a striking prefiguring of the act five appearance of Tim in a sedan chair.
accompanied by a curate.
n7247
735FriswoodLook you, sir; here he is.
736TouchwoodWhat up and in a chair?
737FriswoodYes, sir; he will not yield by any persuasion to die in his bed.
738TouchwoodThen he may live to be hanged yet, for aught I see.
739CurateSee, sir, your neighbour Touchwood comes to be reconciled to you.
740TouchwoodYou are quite besides the book, Sir Domine; I have no friends in hell to send to by him. No, sir, I come to see him die as he lived: a hateful miscreant.
741CurateLet me pray and beseech you to speak more charitably or else not to offend the dying man with your presence.
742TouchwoodDo I come to humour him, or you, or myself, think you? You that take upon you and do rather go about to sooth him in his sickness than to fright him out of his pain; rather encourage him to live than rid the world of him and his abominations.
743CurateBest look into yourself, sir. The world’s a stage on which you both are actors and neither to be his own judge*n6372
This theatrum mundi idea of the world as a theatre had featured in several religious pamphlets and texts of the 1630s and Brome may be deliberately echoing this in the Curate's dialogue here (see Seaver, 1985).
.
n6372
744TouchwoodBut he has played many vile and beastly parts in it! Let him go; I would see his last exit and hiss him out of it*n6374
Traditional treatment of villainous characters by commercial theatre audiences at this time.
. Hark, the ravens cry pork for him*n6379
The ravens sound his death for him (i.e. when he will become meat). Ravens were proverbially associated with death, something Shakespeare made much of in the bird references in Macbeth.
and yet he dies not.
n6374
n6379
745FriswoodOh, you are a hard-hearted man.
746TouchwoodMy heart’s not hard enough to break his; I would it were. Where’s your kind-hearted mistress? Fetch her and try what she can do.
747StrikerHuh, huh, huh.Cough[s].
748Curate [To TOUCHWOOD] What have you done, sir?
749TouchwoodSo, so, so, so; it works, it works.*n6454
Possibly an aside, but not necessarily so. Touchwood's 'secrecy' is highly performative throughout, so it may be these words are spoken aloud to the onstage characters.
n6454
750StrikerOut snarling hell-hound! My curse upon thee and thy cursed son that has undone my niece and me: curse upon curse light on ye.
751CurateOh, fearful!
752TouchwoodHow heartily he prays; sure he is near his end.
753CuratePray, sir, depart; you are too uncharitable.
754TouchwoodMy son undone thy niece? Has he not done her*n6375
With a sexual sense.
think’st thou? [Laughs] Ha, ha, ha.
n6375
756TouchwoodI know not whether I know or no; tell me and I’ll tell thee.
757FriswoodI’ll tell you then that which you know already,
Although you keep it for a joy within you:
Your wicked son has by her own confession
Done that unto her, that unless he play
The honest man’s part and marry her, he will
Full dearly answer it in Hell.
758Striker [Coughing] Huh, huh, huh.
759TouchwoodSpeak English, has he lain with her?
760FriswoodTis so:
She has confessed it to her grandfather.
To me. And Master Pancridge*n6377
The curate's name is intriguing since it links him to the St Pancras or Pancridge region, then a suburb on the edge of London renowned for sub-legal marriages and dealings. Ben Jonson makes great play of this regional association in his 1633 play A Tale of a Tub.
here is made
n6377
Acquainted with it.
761TouchwoodHa, ha, ha.
762CurateThe virgin says
She is depusilated†gg4256
i.e. unmaidened, robbed of her virginity (see also depucelate deriving from the French for virgin: 'la pucelle')
by your son.
gg4256
763TouchwoodDepusilated? [Laughing] ha, ha ha.
764CurateIt is no laughing matter. Therefore send
Speedily for your son before the rumour
Make it ridiculous: as yet none knows it,
But we a slender few.
765TouchwoodWill you direct
Your divine rhetoric there to him and win him
But to entreat me in this case, and try
What I will say to’t?
766CurateBe persuaded, sir.
767StrikerIn this extremity, I do entreat that they may marry.
768TouchwoodI have my ends upon thee; quickly die,
And take thine own. Thy base submission
Has rendered thee more odious, more loathsome,
To me than all thy former villanies.
769Striker [Coughing strongly] Huh, huh, huh.
770TouchwoodAnd hark thee ere thou diest, for now th’art going:
Before my son shall wed that whore thy niece,
She shall bring all the hands of all the whore-masters
In city, court, and kingdom (black coats*n6380
A disparaging means of referring to the clergy according to their traditional attire.
and all:
n6380
I will spare none) unto a fair certificate*n6455
This continues a theme in the scene of the importance of parish certifications in proving such issues as identity, lineage, and sexual chastity.
n6455
That she is clear of all men but my son.
771Striker [Coughing] Huh, huh, huh.
772TouchwoodNay more:
That she is clear of him too, and that he
Has never topped her in the way we treat of,
So, now die and sink
Into thy grave, to rid us of thy stink.
773CurateI have not known such want of charity.
774FriswoodUnconscionable wretch, thou hast killed my master!
I am light at heart again: he has cured me;
He has played the good physician ’gainst his will;
And a halter be his fee for’t.
776TouchwoodThe devil I have, and his dam it shall.
777Striker [Clearing his throat] Ah hem! I am light at heart again.
778TouchwoodOh damned old counterfeit!
779FriswoodWell fare your heart, old master.
780StrikerThough she proved bastard-bellied*n6383
i.e. pregnant with an illegitimate child.
, I will own her,
n6383
Cherish, maintain, and keep her from thy son.
781TouchwoodOh I could tear that tongue out!
782StrikerKeep her child too.
783TouchwoodDo, and her next, and fill thy house with bastards.
784StrikerI’ll hold ’em more legitimate than thy brood.
785CurateWhat mean you, gentlemen?
786StrikerFor thou, thy son, thy house is all a bastard.
787TouchwoodBear witness, he calls my house a bastard.
788FriswoodHa, ha, ha.
791CurateFor neighbourhood*n6386
This is a play distinctly aware of the power of the neighbourhood both to support and condemn its constituent members. The community of Brome's play provides an almost anthropological study of the operations of neighbourhood in the 1630s.
and charity speak lower.
n6386
792StrikerTis petty treason; I’ll be wi’ye there, sir.
793TouchwoodAnd hang thyself, old scarecrow?
794FriswoodWill you eat a piece of gingerbread for your wind, sir*n6387
Ginger was traditionally used in the early modern diet as a counterbalance to flatulence.
?
n6387
795TouchwoodOut, witch!Kicks her.
796FriswoodOh, murder, murder!
797StrikerI’ll lay as many actions on thee as thou hast bones in that swine’s foot of thine.
798FriswoodMy nails shall right†gg4281
avenge
me: I’ll teach him to kick a woman.[She flies at him with her nails.]
gg4281
799CurateHold, Mistress Friswood!
800FriswoodOh, villain, kick a woman?
801TouchwoodThou laidst this plot to murder me, thou man-killer.
802StrikerBlood-sucker thou lyest.
803CurateHelp from above, within, or any whence, in the name of sanctity I conjure you! Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo*n6388
'If I cannot influence the gods of heaven I will stir up Acheron itself.' McClure suggests the quotation derives from Virgil's Aeneid.
.
n6388
TOM and COULTER enter.
804TomWhat’s the matter? By your leave which is my zick uncle? Are you scuffling for’s money before he be dead?
805CoulterWe’ll part you with a vengeance.
806TouchwoodHa you your tenants*n6390
It would have been very common for a London house-owner such as Striker to also own tenanted property in the countryside. Touchwood implies that Hoyden and Coulter have been employed by him in this sense. Again we have a rich example of Brome's interest in the obligations and duties of community in this period.
, your clowns, here brought in to butcher me?
n6390
807StrikerSlave they are thine, brought in to spoil and rob me; I know’em not.
808CurateI fear I’ve conjured up fiends indeed; how infernally they look!
809Tom No sir, we come with no zick intendment*n6391
Intention (dialect).
on neither nother zide; [To TOUCHWOOD] but an you be Master Striker, we are o’your zide, an’t be to cut all the rest into pot-herbs*n6457
Pot-grown herbs used to flavour food, therefore usually more diminutive versions of garden plants. The association of the rural characters in this play with foodstuffs and agricultural growing is sustained.
.
n6391
n6457
810FriswoodNo, this is my master.
811TomZay but the word then, and have at’em.
812TouchwoodHad you your ambuscado†gg3155
an ambush or a force waiting to ambush (OED's etymology: an affected refashioning of 'ambuscade' after the Spanish)
for me?
gg3155
813CurateThey are a pair of the Sedan mules*n6393
Namely, two men hired to carry Sedan chairs around London - this is one of several topical references to this recently introduced mode of urban transport in the play.
I take it?
n6393
814CoulterMoyles, sir, we be no moyles, would you should well know!
815TomWe be cursenfolk*n6394
Christian people.
as good as yourzelf, and get you out o’the house by mine uncle’s leave here.
n6394
816TouchwoodYour uncle? Oh, brave!
817TomOr if I bast you not well a fine and lambskin your jackets till your bones rattle i’your hides*n6395
Tom uses a series of allusions to the process of tanning hides to suggest that he will give Touchwood such a serious beating that his bones will rattle in his body. Tanning tended to take place on the edges of cities and in more rural areas because the process was dirty and smelly. This adds to all the specifically provincial associations that cluster around Coulter and Tom in the scenes in which they appear.
, then zay cha bewrayed*n6396
Say I betrayed (dialect).
the house I coame on.
n6395
n6396
818TouchwoodWell, sir, I’ll go and leave you to your uncle: rejoice, sir, with your kindred. I hope you will have more shortly, if your niece prove fruitful. Come, Master Pancridge, will you go?
819Curate [To STRIKER] With joy for your recovery and manners to your privacy, right worshipful, I leave you to talk with [the] clown, your nephew.
820TouchwoodTarry, tarry; as sure as a club, this clown is sent for out of the country to solder†gg4257
unite, fasten, mend
up his cracked*n6397
i.e. she's not a virgin, she is broken goods.
niece in matrimony and therefore calls him uncle; I could spoil the match, but by my oath I dare not; and therefore, clown, take thy course; [To the CURATE] Come, let us go, Master Pancridge.[TOUCHWOOD and the CURATE] ex[it].
gg4257
n6397
821StrikerAnd why you my nephew, sir?
822TomAnd why not I your nephew; han’t she told you and ha’not I told you as much as the matter’s worth and do ye mean to vlee from the bargain?
823StrikerWhat new afflictions hourly find me out?
824FriswoodAnd for your health I hope, sir.
825StrikerSir, I’ll have better testimony than your own;
Tis true I lost a sister; but till you
Bring stronger proof she was your mother, sir,
Your clownship must not uncle me; am I wi’you, sir?
King’s crowns have been pretended to by impostures*n6398
Possibly a reference to the story of Perkin Warbeck which had recently been set on the Caroline stage by John Ford in a play of that name (c. 1634).
;
n6398
As in the proudest purple*n6400
Purple was traditionally the colour of emperors and rulers.
; get you gone.
n6400
There I am wi’you directly,
826TomIs’t come to this now?
827CoulterYour project will not hold, Master Thomas; best zeek your brother Tim. He has a zertification from the parish*n6418
The importance of certification of identity from one's parish is a further indication of Brome's interest in this play in the operations of community and the civic institutions of community in this period, i.e. the province, parish, and neighbourhood.
and the priest too, of all your mother’s mind, and you could cozen him on’t, and come agen, and uncle this weese*n6401
That is: wise (dialect).
gentleman whether he wool or no;’twould be vine i’vaith.
n6418
n6401
828TomAgreed. [To STRIKER] Well, sir, vor this time I ha no more to zay t’ye, since you be so budge†gg4261
pompous, stiff, formal (OED a.)
, but he that made you zave you.
gg4261
[TOM and COULTER] exit
829StrikerFarewell, sir. [To FRISWOOD] I do begin to think there’s something in’t.
830FriswoodHe made me think he was your sister’s son, I am sure.
831StrikerI will not think so. No: he was set on
By some of my maligners to abuse me.
It had been good to ha’ laid him by the heels:
But, let him go. Call down my niece out of
The melancholy†gg583
a depressive illness, which in the seventeenth century was thought to be caused by an excess of ‘black bile’, one of the four humours controlling the well-being of the body and the mind
mist she’s chambered in.FRISWOOD exit[s].
gg583
All makes for her*n7248
i.e. the situation turns everything in her favour (he will take her side against Touchwood).
. Their vexing me restores
n7248
Her to my love again, and reason good:
She’s mine own natural niece and though
She has lost the husband and the name she sought,
Yet she appears a Striker and I will cherish her.
ANNABEL enters and kneels.
[Link]
Come, you shall grieve no longer. I am friends wi’ye:
Stand up, stand up I say, [ANNABEL stands but keeps her head bowed initially.] and look up too,
Off with this mourning veil and dry those tears:
I have considered that right noble parents
Have pardoned in their children as great faults;
But let it be your warning, not your licence.
833AnnabelFor your security, I am content,
And would entreat to live in that retirement,
Which your fair justice and my foul offence
Of late confined me to, to weep and sigh
My loath
d life away.
834StrikerNo more: you shall
No longer live reclused in wilful darkness.
Enjoy your former liberty; see and be seen:
And, as you weigh my pardon and my love,
Let not your blemish dwell upon your face;
Nor any argument of grief or shame
Be legible there to the most curious eye:
But let your cheek be cheerful and your brow
Crowned with as great a confidence as may
Comply with virgin modesty: and that
Add to your beauty with full strength of art,
Beyond the eye to take a lover’s heart.
835AnnabelIn all I will obey you.
836StrikerIf I make
Choice of a husband for you then, you’ll take him?
837Annabel’Twill but become my duty.
838StrikerA good girl.
[FRISWOOD re-enters.]
839FriswoodSir, here’s the knight come again that has been here in the time of your sickness to have seen you and my mistress, but could not, and left a letter for you once: he that looks women through so*n7249
Another reference to Sir Arnold's lecherous behaviour towards women which was much discussed in Act 3.
.
n7249
840StrikerOh, Sir Arnold Cautious: did you tell him I was o’the mending hand?
841FriswoodYes, I told him you were so, so.
842Striker [To FRISWOOD] Give me my gown and cap though and set me charily†gg3244
carefully
in my sickly chair*n7250
i.e. his medical or bath chair. The lines draw attention to this prop again and the decision in this scene to keep making reference to it does seem to be a conscious prefiguring of the sedan chair episode of Act Five especially for audiences seeing the play for a second time.
; his letter is a treaty of a match betwixt his
nephew and my niece. Go, fetch him up.FRISWOOD exits.
[To ANNABEL] In, niece, and be not seen until I call you, until you hear me call you, do you hear?ANNABEL exits
Could I but catch this cautious coxcomb†gg3016
conceited ass (the term is derived from the cap worn by professional fools, which was shaped like a cock's crest or comb, which came to be the natural substitute for the word "fool", the emblem representing the man)
knight now ― I’ll put fair for’t.
gg3244
n7250
gg3016
CAUTIOUS and FRISWOOD enter.
843FriswoodHere is the knight, sir.
844Striker [To FRISWOOD] Why reach you not a chair?*n7251
Another reference to Striker's being in a medical chair for much of this scene. Seating Sir Arnold enables the two men to converse on a level (though only in physical terms; in truth Striker is deceiving Sir Arnold).
I hope, Sir Arnold,
n7251
You’ll pardon the necessity of my rudeness:
I cannot rise, nor stoop to you, [Groaning as he seemingly strains to get up] uh, uh, uh.
845CautiousRather excuse me, sir, that press upon you.
Thus in your weakness: but you understand
My business by my letter, if you have read it?
846StrikerYes, sir. [To FRISWOOD, the latter part out of CAUTIOUS'S earshot] Go forth; but be not far I pray you.FRISWOOD exits.
I have heard your nephew is a wild young man.
847CautiousA very bashful boy, I assure you; that’s the reason
That I am won to be a spokesman for him.
848StrikerOh no dissembling, sir; you know he is wild.
And suffers under your displeasure for’t: [Coughing and spluttering] uh, uh, uh.
849Cautious [Aside] A witch could not guess righter: but they say
That dying men are prophets oftentimes.
[Aloud] Suppose he has been wild, let me assure you
He’s now reclaimed and has my good opinion:
And is as like in person and behaviour
To gain the maid’s affection.
850StrikerSpeak to the purpose; pray, what’s his estate?*n6419
i.e. what is he worth in financial terms?
n6419
851CautiousAy, there’s the point indeed! Why, sir, he has
A hundred pound a year; and is withal
A hopeful and a handsome gentleman.
852StrikerHopeful and handsome! [Coughing with excitement.] uh, uh, uh.
853CautiousYou, sir, have wealth enough?
854StrikerAnd she has choice enough
Of greater matches, could I get her
In a marriage vein; but she’ll not look
Upon a man, not she; but lives retired
Here in my house, and is a careful nurse.
She’s fitter, sir, to be an old man’s nurse,
Than any young man’s bride: [Coughs] uh, uh, uh.
855CautiousIs she so grave in youth? I have often sought
A sight of her, but never could obtain it.
856StrikerNot without my consent, I warrant you:
She’s nearer to a mother than a maid.
I tell you truth, sir, and you know deceit
Becomes not dying men – [Coughing] uh, uh, uh. – For virtue and obedience
She’s fitter for yourself than for your nephew.
But – to the point – a hundred pound a year
You say he has? And hopes and handsomeness
Which may acquire with your assurance of
So much for jointure†gg1144
marriage settlement (usually the part of a husband’s wealth or property that he elected to assign to his wife in the event of his death)
? –– Yes, a thousand pound
gg1144
In portion†gg1143
dowry (monies, goods or lands brought by the wife to augment her husband’s estate on their marriage)
with her: but, sir, let me tell you,
gg1143
I’d rather give six thousand unto one
Of mine own choice; which she will not refuse,
If I but say: this is the man, and take him.
857CautiousWill not your niece be seen? I fain would see her.
858StrikerAt hand: she will not out of my presence, sir.
Nor ever was by man, not since the clock
Of her virginity struck eleven, not she,
Except at door or window as men pass:
And so perhaps your nephew may have seen her?
859CautiousIn troth no otherwise; and so he told me.
May not I see her, sir?
860StrikerI tell you true;
Deceit you know becomes not dying men: [Coughs] uh, uh, uh.
And, therefore, hark you, sir, I have a purpose,
That if she take the man whom I will choose
To make her my sole heir; provided that
861CautiousPray let me see your niece.
862Striker [Calling offstage] Friswood ― why Friswood!
863CautiousIs that her name?
864StrikerNo, sir; I call my maid.
865CautiousA maid? I took her for an old woman.
866StrikerA maid upon my virtue: and I fear
That her frigidity has mortified my niece.
Deceit becomes not dying men you know.
[Calling offstage again, ever more urgently] Friswood, I say –
[Aside] I bade her not be far:
[To CAUTIOUS] I dare not strain myself to call her louder.
867CautiousI’ll call her for you, sir: [Calling offstage] Fris ―
868StrikerHold, sir, hold. Pray, use this whistle for me.
I dare not strain myself to wind it, I.
The doctors tell me it will spend my spirits CAUTIOUS whistles.
So, so, enough, sir ― [FRISWOOD enters] [To FRISWOOD] Fie, fie upon you:
Go call my niece! [Coughs] uh, uh.FRISWOOD exits.
869CautiousBe of good cheer, sir, and take courage, man.
What you have been a Striker in your days:
And may be again? I would not have him die.
870StrikerUh ― alas, I cannot last ―― [FRISWOOD re-enters alone] [To FRISWOOD] why comes she not?
871FriswoodI cannot get her from her work; nor to
Believe me that you sent for her. Because
I told her that a gentleman was with you.
872StrikerThere was your fault. Then I must call myself.
Why Annabel – [Spluttering] ah, ah, ah – Ann-a-bel.FRISWOOD exits [again].
873CautiousTake heed! Strain not yourself too hard but send again:
ANNABEL enters.
The rarest beauty that I e’er beheld!
[Link]
Which with a maidenhead of that growth,
Would be an absolute wonder. [ANNABEL] kneels at Striker’s feet. Her sweet modesty
And meek obedience justifies that too
And makes her up a miracle of nature.
My former misbelief I do renounce,
And at first sight (which is the birth of love)
A faith grows in me, strengthened by the word
Of this expiring man, that chastity
Has not forsaken beauty.
875Striker [To ANNABEL] You shall hear him.
876AnnabelWhat to propound a husband? Honoured sir,
Although I rather wish to die a virgin;
Yet my obedience to your grave behests
Shall sway my will: your choice shall be my liking.
But let me thus much favour beg: before
You make that choice that you will not destroy
The building you have reared. Your care and cost
Hath built me up by virtuous education
Unto that height that I consider heaven;
That to look down on youthful vanities,
Were to be at a stand; and to delight in’em
Were to fall back again; and to be linked
In marriage to a man whose wild affections
Are bent to worldly pleasures a main perdition.
877Cautious [Aside] I dare not speak to her for my nephew now:
Nor,though I love her strangely, for myself.
878AnnabelDo you tell me of his nephew, sir? Even he,
The knight himself, I hold to be too young
For a well-governed man as the world goes.
879Cautious [Aside] I ha’not the heart to wrong her; she’s too good.
[FRISWOOD re-enters.]
880Friswood [To CAUTIOUS] Sir, here’s a gentleman presses at my heels to speak with you.
GILBERT enters with his arm in a scarf.
881CautiousMaster Goldwire, what’s your haste?
882GilbertI come to cry you mercy, and this good gentleman;
And this sweet gentlewoman, who I take it
Is his fair niece of whom you are in treaty.
If it be not already gone too far,
Let me entreat you not to put your finger
Further i’the business in behalf of your nephew.
883CautiousYou first moved me to’t!
884Gilbert’Tis that repents me:
Your base unworthy nephew has abused me;
I do not speak it for a slight hurt he has gi’en me,
But for his breach of faith to another virgin.
885AnnabelOh me, and would you speak for such a man?
886GilbertAnd the false way, the plot he had upon you,
To put you on this enterprise. The quarrel
In which he rescued you to endear himself to you,
Was a mere counterfeit squabble, a very trick
Contrived betwixt him and his brother poet
T’abuse your goodness:
I leave it to your consideration, sir:
I am in haste and so I wish you health, sir;
And you much happiness in a husband, lady.[GILBERT] [surreptitiously] gives
[ANNABEL] a letter and exits.*n7253
This is yet another instance in the play where a paper document is key as a plot catalyst. This is a further explanatory letter from Samuel and the audience will recall that handed over in the first act in interpreting this moment; this is a further instance of Brome's use of audience recall for dramatic economy.
[ANNABEL] a letter and exits.*
n7253
887Annabel [Aside] Has given me here a letter; I want but
Place fit to peruse it.
888CautiousHad he a plot upon me? I’ll have my plot too;
And now woe for myself, sir, if you please.
889StrikerSir, let me tell you: I think well of you, [Coughing] uh, uh,
Deceit becomes not dying men you know.
She would make e’en too good a wife for you:
For I have heard, sir, of your disposition,
Never to marry without best assurance,
First of virginity, and then of chastity
In her that you would choose; and let me tell you, [Coughing] uh, uh,
I know not where you can so well be fitted:
She’s right, [Coughing] uh, uh . . . if you dare take a weak man’s word:
Deceit would ill become me, [Continues to cough and splutter] uh uh.
890CautiousI take you at your word, and thank you, sir.
[To CAUTIOUS] You need not leave me yet, sir.
892CautiousNo, sir, no. It shall be a match, or no match ere I go.All exit, carrying STRIKER out.
4.2*n7432
Scene Two: Moneylacks and company are now at Brittleware's residence and what we get here is another scene of 'performance'. Perhaps we might argue that the feigned fight of Act Three has encouraged us to look for role-playing at all times. Part of Tim Hoyden's training to be a gentleman is the game of verbal fencing he is instructed in here. The game is meant to ape courtly discourse and the use of flattery while really backstabbing one's rival and this is all described in the terminology of duelling and fencing. Fencing was a fashionable leisure activity for the well-off at this time and many manuals on the subject were published. Being a good fencer became in part synonymous with being a fine gentleman (one of the best exponents of the sport in the 1630s was William Cavendish, Earl of Newcastle, dedicatee of this play and patron to Ben Jonson as well as Brome at this time; Jonson in fact wrote several poems in honour of Cavendish that praised his skills at fencing and horsemanship). Brilliantly Brome uses the language of fencing to actually create what is a game of words (and other Jonsonian cross-references might be seen here to the 'game of vapours' in Bartholomew Fair and the jeerers in The Staple of News).
Put simply the game involves flattering your opponents ('with a single rapier compliment') followed by backstabbing them with a 'backswipe' (or 'backsword compliment'), a statement that undoes the praise of the first statement. In this way you 'wipe' out the initial praise via the insult. It is intriguing that this language of 'wiping' has a new currency in current idiom where in hiphop language, the verbal supremacy over another is described in these terms. Hip-hop culture has also adapted and adopted the language of duelling from Renaissance culture so there may also be some interesting continuities of practice here. The phrase 'rapier wit' is still in use today and draws similar analogies between the art of fencing and the arts of discourse. In terms of staging, the choreography of these sequences will be key in terms of keeping the audience aware of what is really going on. In the time constraints of the project we were unable to workshop these moments but it is hoped that this edition will enable users to experiment with material of this kind in workshopping exercises of their own. In the exchange, Spring and Brittleware play the parts of courtiers (enabling yet another scene where courtly behaviour is parodied on the commercial stage in this play). Brittleware even borrows Hoyden's new hat and cloak for the purposes heightening the sense of performance and role-play (though also enabling him to appropriate Tim's expensive new purchases in the process). 'Master Fine-wit' is the role that Brittleware assumes (he is of course already playing the part of barber-surgeon to trick Tim). We have an onstage audience for all this business in the shape of Gilbert, Walter and Samuel (still in disguise as Bounce the poetical soldier). Once again we are being encouraged to view the action of the play through their eyes, as we have been from the beginning. They eventually make their presence known and Gilbert and Walter take Moneylacks aside to explain their plot to him with regard to Cautious. Samuel meanwhile lets Brittleware know that he has just seen his wife escaping from the house, travelling by means of one of the new sedan chairs. Brittleware runs offstage in search of her, returning briefly to ask for more details of where she was heading. Sam informs him that she is travelling down the Strand in a sedan with the number 21 on its side. Hoyden then, with typically poor judgement, tries out his now found courtly wit on Samuel, who ends up kicking him for insulting people. At this point Tom and Coulter arrive and Tom mocks his brother for being made such a fool of. Tim simply scorns him as a country clown, an indication of how estranged he has become from his former family and friends and perhaps of the alienating effects of the capital at this time. The young male gallants join in the mockery of Tom's accent and then decide to leave. Moneylacks is left alone at the end of the scene hoping that Tom can be quickly got rid off before he destroys all their careful plotting and scheming.
n7432
MONEYLACKS, SPRING, BRITTLEWARE, [and] HOYDEN [enter].
893MoneylacksNow, sir, have you your rules by heart?
895MoneylacksRepeat your principles.
896HoydenPrinciples to be imprinted in the heart of every new made gentleman: to commend none but himself: to like no man’s wit but his own: to slight that which he understands not: to lend money and never look for’t again: to take up upon obligation and lend out upon affection: to owe much but pay little: to sell land but buy none: to pawn but never to redeem again: to fight for a whore: to cherish a bawd and defy a tradesman.
897MoneylacksAnd can you observe and keep these rules, think you?
898HoydenI hope I can, sir, and have begun pretty well already; you see I have spent and lent all my money and pawned all my clothes but these o’my back, as I am a clear gentleman. And
for the rest of the rudiments and the several carriages and deportments by garb, by congee†gg1747
ceremonial bow (usually as a leavetaking)
, compliment, etcetera, which are to be attained by practice when I come abroad and amongst’em, you shall gain credit by me.
gg1747
899MoneylacksI commend your confidence. Now, Master Spring and Master Brittleware, play you the complementasters†gg4263
petty complimenters (OED's only recorded usage of the term)
before him a little for his further instruction. [To HOYDEN] Imagine then a couple of courtiers scarcely acquainted. Fall to, and look that you congee†gg4264
bow (OED v.)
in the new french bum-trick*n6422
Presumably this was a particularly extravagant bow which made great display of the buttocks. The French court was associated with extremes of etiquette and the performance of servitude in the seventeenth century and there was also much concern at the English and Scottish courts about the aping of French behaviour and customs.
. [To BRITTLEWARE] Here, landlord, take his cloak and hat to appear more generous.*n7254
Brittleware is in this instruction from Moneylacks able to appropriate Tim's expensive new clothing ostensibly for the purpose of role-play but we will later learn he has purloined the said items.
gg4263
gg4264
n6422
n7254
900HoydenBum-trick?
901MoneylacksCome meet and begin; play but two or three bouts at most at single rapier compliment*n6423
In the role-play of courtly banter and debate, verbal sparring is described in terms of fencing and swordsmanship. For an extended version of this analogy, see Ben Jonson's The New Inn, 2.5. For a more detailed exposition of what is going on in this sequence please see the extended act commentary which appears at the beginning of this act [NOTE n7245].
, and one or two at backsword†gg4265
a sword with only one cutting edge
and you ha’ done. Now observe, sir.
n6423
gg4265
902HoydenSingle rapier†gg4266
a long, thin pointed sword usually used for thrusting in fencing
and backsword†gg4265
a sword with only one cutting edge
compliment foil†gg2127
defeat (a metaphor from fencing)
.
gg4266
gg4265
gg2127
903SpringNoble Master Fine-wit, the single example of court-ceremony, if my apprehension deal fairly with me.
904BrittlewareSir, how auspiciously have I fallen upon the knowledge of you by virtue of the same apprehension.*n6425
Like the whole fencing - as verbal thrusting exchange - here the vocabulary is deliberately excessive, parodying courtly discourse and custom in a manner akin to the dancing ladies and gentlemen at the Asparagus Garden in Act 3.
n6425
905MoneylacksSo, there’s one.
GILBERT, SAMUEL [still disguised as Bounce], [and] WALTER [enter], [standing and conversing] aside.*n7255
The presence of this onstage audience for the strange exchanges of the verbal fencing is important. Once again Brome invites the audience to read or see the scene through their sceptical eyes. The young men's perceptions frame this moment as they do the play proper.
n7255
906Gilbert [Aside] What’s here?
907Samuel [Aside] Peace, let’s see a little more.
908HoydenAs I am a gentleman, a neat bout and fairly come off o’both sides.
909SpringSir, I shall ever bless the promptness of my memory in being so fortunate to collect the fallacious†gg4268
(of an argument) containing a fallacy
acquaintance of so complete a goodness.
gg4268
910HoydenSweet, sir, I shall ever bless, etcetera . . .Writes in his tables.
911BrittlewareOh, you are pleased out of that noble worth which can convert all things to the form and image of its own perfection*n6426
A variant on Neoplatonic ideas that were prevalent at the Caroline court at this time, in particular among those of Queen Henrietta Maria's circle. Here, of course, such ideas are being self-consciously parodied. Compare similar parody of Neoplatonic practice in Brome's The Lovesick Court (1640) and William Davenant's The Platonic Lovers (1636).
to make yourself glorious with that which is miserably impoverished in itself.
n6426
912MoneylacksGood, there’s two.
913HoydenMiserably impoverished in itself – oh sweet,
914SpringSir, you have such a conquering way in humility that he shall be sure to come off vanquished that offers to contend with you.*n7256
Brome is deliberately parodying the excesses of courtly language here and in this respect the scene compares with the appearance of the six courtiers and their purgative dancing in Act 3.
n7256
915BrittlewareThis is the noblest of all humanity to piece up the defect of your friend with a glory of your own.
916MoneylacksA plain hit that: there were three bouts well played.*n6427
Moneylacks continues the use of fencing metaphors here. A hit would be a thrust that won a point by making contact; fencers won or lost bouts (or rounds) in the course of competition.
n6427
917Hoyden‘Piece up the defect of your friend with a glory of your own’: most stately fine as I am a gentleman.
918MoneylacksSo much for single rapier†gg4266
a long, thin pointed sword usually used for thrusting in fencing
: now for your secret wipe*n6431
The idea of the 'wipe', the wiping out of previous compliment by a cutting insult, is explained later in the scene in Moneylacks's tutoring of Tim Hoyden in this verbal art.
at backsword†gg4265
a sword with only one cutting edge
.
gg4266
n6431
gg4265
919HoydenAy, that I would see: like the hackling†gg4270
literally the combing of hemp or flax, but often used figuratively to suggest taunting or irritating someone, sometimes physically
of the miller’s legs*n6428
Possibly a reference to Chaucer's 'Miller's Tale' from The Canterbury Tales, where a character's attempt at adultery by climbing up to a window is thwarted by lewd behaviour on the part of the aggrieved husband, which involved farting, hence the reference here to a 'back-blow', although the narrative does not altogether tally. It may simply be that this was a proverbial saying, the sense of which has now been lost to time.
: now for a delicate back-blow.
gg4270
n6428
920SpringSee you yon fellow I held compliment with?
921HoydenYes, sir, a well-spoken gentleman and a lovely.
923HoydenWhat he is not, is he?
924SpringMade only to make physic work: a very lump of laughter.
925Hoyden [Laughing] Ha, ha, ha.
926MoneylacksYou have done well: now you, sir.
927BrittlewareDo you note him yonder that passed from you?
928HoydenThat gallant, sir?
929BrittlewareThe very scorn at court;
930MoneylacksGood.
931BrittlewareA very tilting stock†gg4272
a target in jousting
for young practisers to break their jests on*n6430
Continuing the analogy of words and jousting, the image is of breaking swordtips and lances on the jousting targets.
.
gg4272
n6430
932MoneylacksEnough.
933HoydenGood and enough; do you call this good enough, to abuse one another thus?
934MoneylacksYes, this is backsword†gg4265
a sword with only one cutting edge
compliment: this wipes off the false praise which the first thrust on: you must be seen in both or you are no true garbist†gg4850
one who is skilled in polite behaviour (OED's only recorded use of this term)
else.
gg4265
gg4850
935HoydenI shall soonest hit o’this; for from a whelp†gg4145
puppy
I could give scurvy†gg1207
contemptible, shabby or sloppy
language.
gg4145
gg1207
937HoydenOh coarse salutation: ‘Save you, Sir Hugh.’
938MoneylacksHow got you hither, gentlemen?
939WalterHere we are, sir, and have seen part of your practice, your courtly exercise.
940MoneylacksPeace: but how got you in, and a stranger with ye*n6458
i.e Samuel in disguise as Bounce the poet-soldier.
?
n6458
941GilbertHe shall betray nothing.
942SamuelWe found fair entrance into the house.GILBERT and WALTER whisper aside with MONEYLACKS.
943Brittleware’Sfoot, where’s my wife then?
944SamuelIf your wife be the gentlewoman o’the house, sir, she’s
now gone forth in one o’the new hand-litters†gg4274
vehicle containing a couch shut in by curtains and carried on men's shoulders; hence also called a hand-litter and sometimes a sedan chair
: what call ye it,
a sedan*n6432
This is another of a host of references to the new phenomenon of sedan chairs in London. This form of domestic transportation was seen as direct competition both by hackney coach drivers and the watermen who worked the River Thames with their taxi service and so was the occasion of much discussion and debate in both pamphlets and literature in the 1630s. See also Act 4 of The Antipodes for a scene involving waterman, sedanmen and carmen.
?
gg4274
n6432
945BrittlewareO Sedana.[BRITTLEWARE] ex[its in haste].
946SpringHe’s run mad with his horns*n6433
i.e. the horns of a cuckold (caused by his wife's presumed adultery) have driven him insane.
.
n6433
947HoydenHe’s run with my hat and cloak, by your leave.
948SpringHe’ll come again, ne’er doubt him.
949HoydenYou say so, small acquaintance, but I could ne’er see anything of mine again since I came amongst you if it once got out of my sight: what money have I left trow†gg4252
I wonder
?Tells†gg4851
checks or adds up
[the coins in his pocket].
gg4252
gg4851
[BRITTLEWARE runs back onstage]
950BrittlewareI pray, gentlemen, which way took she?
951SamuelDown towards the Strand*n556
A major street in London, which connected the City of London to Westminster. It had been a focus of intense building development in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries during which time the episcopal palaces and monastery lands sold off following the dissolution were converted into fashionable residences for the nobility. These residences tended to cluster on the south side of the Strand (with views onto the Thames) while on the north side were shops and stalls such as those found at the New Exchange. The street was a recurring topic of conversation in Caroline drama, see for example Celestina's references to living on the Strand in 1.2 of James Shirley's The Lady of Pleasure (1635).
, I tell you, in a new litter†gg4274
vehicle containing a couch shut in by curtains and carried on men's shoulders; hence also called a hand-litter and sometimes a sedan chair
with the number one and twenty in the breech†gs1101
cloth used to drape over a sedan chair to conceal the traveller inside
on’t.
n556
gg4274
gs1101
952BrittlewareA litter†gg4274
vehicle containing a couch shut in by curtains and carried on men's shoulders; hence also called a hand-litter and sometimes a sedan chair
of one and twenty in the breech: high time to run.[BRITTLEWARE] exit[s hastily again*n6434
All of this stage business, of course, also creates some vivid offstage imaginings of the London streets and Rebecca's presumed escape in a sedan or hand-litter.
].
gg4274
n6434
953Gilbert [Still talking aside to MONEYLACKS but now aloud] You see we have our plot in action*n6435
A suitably metatheatrical description.
too, Sir Hugh, and it runs fairly on.
n6435
954Moneylacks [Aside to WALTER] But what a rogue art thou*n7257
An embedded allusion to Hamlet's soliloquy: 'O what a rogue and peasant slave am I' (2.2.485). This is one of several Hamlet allusions in the play and in 1630s drama more generally which would appear to confirm that play's cultural currency at this time.
to put such a slur upon thine own uncle? First to put him on for thyself, then you with a counterfeit trick to put him off o’that course, to run desperately headlong to break his own neck in a match: what a rogue art thou to use thine uncle thus!
n7257
955Walter [Aside to MONEYLACKS] Nay, what a wretch were you, if you should cross your daughter in such a fortune?
956Moneylacks [Aside] Which if I do, cut my windpipe†gg4276
trachea or throat
. What? The young rascal Touchwood is gone into France they say.
gg4276
957Walter [Aside] Ay, he’s safe enough.
958Moneylacks [Aside] Sir Cautious to be catched! If I do not love my daughter the better for her lucky leg-stretching*n6436
The surface sense is a reference to bowing and scraping to a social superior, but the sexually charged undertow to the imagery that Moneylacks uses to describe his daughter seems clear.
, I am a villain. I am taken with such kind of roguery.
n6436
959Gilbert [Aside to MONEYLACKS] Take heed you have not a cross plot in that itching pate of yours to spoil all now.
961Gilbert [Aside to MONEYLACKS] And I swear I will, or cut these hands off; I thought good to tell you so, because I know what tricks you have done, and what discoveries you have made for small parcels of ready money.
962Moneylacks [Aside to GILBERT] Hoo pox, I want no money; [HOYDEN crosses stage towards them and into earshot] [Aside] Now look there he comes [Aloud] Master Hoyden, salute these gallants.
963HoydenWhat without a hat or cloak?
964MoneylacksThe better for a young beginner.
965HoydenSweet sir, I shall ever bless my auspicious stars that shined me into the fallacious†gg4268
(of an argument) containing a fallacy
acquaintance of so singular goodness*n6437
Hoyden is echoing the extravagant language he heard earlier in the scene in the role-play between Brittleware and Spring.
.
gg4268
n6437
966GilbertSir, you forget yourself.
967HoydenMost singular sweet sir, most miserably impoverished in itself.
969HoydenYou piece up the defect of your friend with a glory of your own.
970SamuelCan you say this gentleman was a clown within this fortnight?
971HoydenWithin this fortnight I assure you, sir, as rank a clown o’one side as ever held cow to bull.
972SamuelHad it been o’both sides, it had been miraculous.
973HoydenNow note me, sir: do you see that fellow I left?
974SamuelYes, tis my friend.
975HoydenThe arrantest coxcomb†gg3016
conceited ass (the term is derived from the cap worn by professional fools, which was shaped like a cock's crest or comb, which came to be the natural substitute for the word "fool", the emblem representing the man)
in a country.
gg3016
976SamuelHow, sir?
977HoydenMade only to make physic work*n7259
i.e. designed for medical testing. The insult continues the medical frame of reference identified elsewhere in the play and discussed in more detail in the introductory essay.
.
n7259
978SamuelYou do not know him sure.
979HoydenA tilting stock for young practisers to break jests on*n6438
Another direct echo of a phrase Tim Hoyden heard earlier in the scene. His verbal jousts are entirely derivative ,which serves to confirm how manipulable he is and how prone to the influences of others.
: there’s a wipe for you at backsword†gg4265
a sword with only one cutting edge
compliment.
n6438
gg4265
980SamuelThere’s another for you, sir.Kicks him.
981HoydenYou knock at the wrong door, sir, and I pity your ignorance: go to school as I have done and learn more wit: kick a gentleman?
TOM Hoyden and COULTER enter.
982CoulterHere he is, and here be all the crew on ’em and more.
983TomHere? Thou mockest; he is not here. Sure these be all lords, I think.
984WalterHow now; what’s he?
985Spring’Slid, ’tis his clown brother he spake of.
986TomIs’t possible; icha*n6439
I have (dialect).
made a sweet jaunt after you and have I vound a vine vool o’thee? Where’s thy vour hundred pound? Is that made a voole on too troe: where’s the zartificate my mother
ga’thee to vind thine uncle? gi’me that, chill zee what I can do wi’it.
n6439
987HoydenAway, clown, I know thee not, canst thou compliment?
988TomCompliment? Yes, I can compliment dagger out o’sheath*n6440
A version of the proverb 'He will swear dagger out of sheath'.
an’ I zet on’t.
n6440
989CoulterI hope he’ll veeze*n6441
i.e. feeze, or frighten (dialect).
you and make your zilken jacket hum: well zed Master Thomas to’em, and to’em all I’ll zide ye*n6442
i.e. I will side with you (dialect).
.
n6441
n6442
990Gilbert [Looking at SAMUEL and WALTER as he says this] Master Thomas, does he call him?
991Tom Yes, Master Thomas, and what zay you to that? And as good a master as the best o’ye, and you go to that; for by uds*n6443
God's (dialect form of the oath).
shall judge me, I think you are all but a company of cheaterlings; and if you
do not give the vool my brother sartisfaction for the wrongs you ha’ done him and me in him, I’ll canvas it out o’ the carcasses o’ zome o’ye, by uds*n6443
God's (dialect form of the oath).
daggers death will I. Draw, Coulter, and amongst’em.
n6443
n6443
992MoneylacksHold, sir, hold! You shall have satisfaction.
993TomOh, shall I zo? Put up again, Coulter!
994GilbertThis is a stout roaring clown.
995MoneylacksWhere’s the master o’the house?
996SpringHe’s run mad after his wife now he should look to his house.
997TomCha mich*n6444
I shall have much (dialect).
ado to vorbear beating o’thee yet, my vingers doe zo itch at thee.
n6444
998HoydenI understand thee not, as I am a gentleman.
999TomBut now I think on’t, Coulter, we’ll have all again and by a quieter way; and teach’em to lick honey, catch birds with chaff†gg4278
husks of corn or grain
, or go to plough with dogs*n6445
All intended to be proverbial for impossibilities. The full phrases are 'To lick honey with your little finger' and 'Old birds are not caught with chaffs'. For some reason Tom uses them in a kind of shorthand form here.
.
gg4278
n6445
1002CoulterUds vish*n6446
By God's fish (the fish is the symbol of Christianity and Coulter and Tom have asserted their faith at various points in the play).
, master: they do nothing but jeer to you all this while now.
n6446
1003TomDo they jeer†gg3211
(v) to treat with scorn (OED 2)
? Let ’em jeer†gg3211
(v) to treat with scorn (OED 2)
and gibe†gg4279
to speak sneeringly
too; I’ll vetch one’s warrant shall outjeer ’em all, and he be above ground.
gg3211
gg3211
gg4279
1004MoneylacksYou shall not need, sir. Go but in till the master of the house comes home, you shall have your desire.
1005TomYou zay very well, sir; zay well is good, but do well is better*n6447
Proverbial saying: Tom Hoyden's discourse is littered with proverbs of this nature.
. Let’s zee what you will do now . . .
n6447
1006GilbertRemember we have warned you, Sir Hugh; we must leave you.
[GILBERT, WALTER, and SAMUEL exit, with HOYDEN following.]
1007Tom [To MONEYLACKS] Nay, I chill look to you, sirrah. [To COULTER] Come in my hand*n7260
i.e. come with me.
.
n7260
[TOM exits with COULTER following close after.]
1008MoneylacksNow for a trick to rid us of this clown,
Or our trade sinks and up our house is blown.[MONEYLACKS exits]
Edited by Julie Sanders