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ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA PRIMA

Enter Higgen, Ferret, Prig, Clause, Jaculine, Snap, Ginks, and other beggars.

 
Hig. Come Princes of the ragged regiment,
You o' the blood, Prig my most upright Lord,
And these (what name or title, e're they bear)
Jarkman, or Patrico, Cranke, or Clapperdudgeon, Frater, or Abram-man;
I speak to all
That stand in fair Election for the title
Of King of Beggars, with the command adjoyning, Higgen, your
Orator, in this Inter-regnum,
That whilom was your Dommerer, doth beseech you
All to stand fair, and put your selves in rank,
That the first Comer, may at his first view
Make a free choice, to say up the question.
 
 
Fer. Pr. 'Tis done Lord Higgen.
 
 
Hig. Thanks to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret.
 
 
Fer. Well, pray my Masters all, Ferret be chosen,
Y'are like to have a mercifull mild Prince of me.
 
 
Prig. A very tyrant, I, an arrant tyrant,
If e're I come to reign; therefore look to't,
Except you do provide me hum enough
And Lour to bouze with: I must have my Capons
And Turkeys brought me in, with my green Geese,
And Ducklings i'th' season: fine fat chickens,
Or if you chance where an eye of tame Phesants
Or Partridges are kept, see they be mine,
Or straight I seize on all your priviledge,
Places, revenues, offices, as forfeit,
Call in your crutches, wooden legs, false bellyes,
Forc'd eyes and teeth, with your dead arms; not leave you
A durty clout to beg with o' your heads,
Or an old rag with Butter, Frankincense,
Brimston and Rozen, birdlime, blood, and cream,
To make you an old sore; not so much soap
As you may fome with i'th' Falling-sickness;
The very bag you bear, and the brown dish
Shall be escheated. All your daintiest Dells too
I will deflower, and take your dearest Doxyes
From your warm sides; and then some one cold night
I'le watch you what old barn you go to roost in,
And there I'le smother you all i'th' musty hay.
 
 
Hig. This is tyrant-like indeed:
But what would Ginks Or Clause be here, if either of them should raign?
 
 
Clau. Best ask an Ass, if he were made a Camel,
What he would be; or a dog, and he were a Lyon.
 
 
Ginks. I care not what you are, Sirs, I shall be
A Beggar still I am sure, I find my self there.
 

Enter Goswin.

 
Snap. O here a Judge comes.
 
 
Hig. Cry, a Judge, a Judge.
 
 
Gos. What ail you Sirs? what means this outcry?
 
 
Hig. Master,
A sort of poor souls met: Gods fools, good Master,
Have had some little variance amongst our selves
Who should be honestest of us, and which lives
Uprightest in his calling: Now, 'cause we thought
We ne're should 'gree on't our selves, because
Indeed 'tis hard to say: we all dissolv'd, to put it
To him that should come next, and that's your Master-ship,
Who, I hope, will 'termine it as your mind serves you,
Right, and no otherwise we ask it: which?
Which does your worship think is he? sweet Master
Look over us all, and tell us; we are seven of us,
Like to the seven wise Masters, or the Planets.
 
 
Gos. I should judge this the man with the grave beard,
And if he be not—
 
 
Clau. Bless you, good Master, bless you.
 
 
Gos. I would he were: there's something too amongst you
To keep you all honest. [Exit.
 
 
Snap. King of Heaven go with you.
 
 
Omn. Now good reward him,
May he never want it, to comfort still the poor, in a good hour.
 
 
Fer. What is't? see: Snap has got it.
 
 
Snap. A good crown, marry.
 
 
Prig. A crown of gold.
 
 
Fer. For our new King: good luck.
 
 
Ginks. To the common treasury with it; if't be gold,
Thither it must.
 
 
Prig. Spoke like a Patriot, Ferret—
King Clause, I bid God save thee first, first, Clause,
After this golden token of a crown;
Where's oratour Higgen with his gratuling speech now
In all our names?
 
 
Fer. Here he is pumping for it.
 
 
Gin. H'has cough'd the second time, 'tis but once more
And then it comes.
 
 
Fer. So, out with all: expect now—
 
 
Hig. That thou art chosen, venerable Clause,
Our King and Soveraign; Monarch o'th'Maunders,
Thus we throw up our Nab-cheats, first for joy,
And then our filches; last, we clap our fambles,
Three subject signs, we do it without envy:
For who is he here did not wish thee chosen,
Now thou art chosen? ask 'em: all will say so,
Nay swear't: 'tis for the King, but let that pass.
When last in conference at the bouzing ken
This other day we sat about our dead Prince
Of famous memory: (rest go with his rags:)
And that I saw thee at the tables end,
Rise mov'd, and gravely leaning on one Crutch,
Lift the other like a Scepter at my head,
I then presag'd thou shortly wouldst be King,
And now thou art so: but what need presage
To us, that might have read it in thy beard
As well, as he that chose thee? by that beard
Thou wert found out, and mark'd for Soveraignty.
O happy beard! but happier Prince, whose beard
Was so remark'd, as marked out our Prince,
Not bating us a hair. Long may it grow,
And thick, and fair, that who lives under it,
May live as safe, as under Beggars Bush,
Of which this is the thing, that but the type.
 
 
Om. Excellent, excellent orator, forward good Higgen,
Give him leave to spit: the fine, well-spoken Higgen.
 
 
Hig. This is the beard, the bush, or bushy-beard,
Under whose gold and silver raign 'twas said
So many ages since, we all should smile
On impositions, taxes, grievances,
Knots in a State, and whips unto a Subject,
Lye lurking in this beard, but all kemb'd out:
If now, the Beard be such, what is the Prince
That owes the Beard? a Father; no, a Grand-father;
Nay the great Grand-father of you his people.
He will not force away your hens, your bacon,
When you have ventur'd hard for't, nor take from you
The fattest of your puddings: under him
Each man shall eat his own stolen eggs, and butter,
In his own shade, or sun-shine, and enjoy
His own dear Dell, Doxy, or Mort, at night
In his own straw, with his own shirt, or sheet,
That he hath filch'd that day, I, and possess
What he can purchase, back, or belly-cheats
To his own prop: he will have no purveyers
For Pigs, and poultry.
 
 
Clau. That we must have, my learned oratour,
It is our will, and every man to keep In his own path and circuit.
 
 
Hig. Do you hear? You must hereafter maund on your own pads he saies.
 
 
Clau. And what they get there, is their own, besides
To give good words.
 
 
Hig. Do you mark? to cut been whids,
That is the second Law.
 
 
Clau. And keep a-foot
The humble, and the common phrase of begging,
Lest men discover us.
 
 
Hig. Yes; and cry sometimes,
To move compassion: Sir, there is a table,
That doth command all these things, and enjoyns 'em,
Be perfect in their crutches, their feign'd plaisters,
And their torn pass-ports, with the ways to stammer,
And to be dumb, and deaf, and blind, and lame,
There, all the halting paces are set down,
I'th' learned language.
 
 
Clau. Thither I refer them,
Those, you at leisure shall interpret to them.
We love no heaps of laws, where few will serve.
 
 
Om. O gracious Prince, 'save, 'save the good King Clause.
 
 
Hig. A Song to crown him.
 
 
Fer. Set a Centinel out first.
 
 
Snap. The word?
 
 
Hig. A Cove comes, and fumbumbis to it.– Strike.
 

The SONG

 
Cast our Caps and cares away: this is Beggars Holy-day,
At the Crowning of our King, thus we ever dance and sing.
In the world look out and see: where's so happy a Prince as he?
Where the Nation live so free, and so merry as do we?
Be it peace, or be it war, here at liberty we are,
And enjoy our ease and rest; To the field we are not prest;
Nor are call'd into the Town, to be troubled with the Gown.
Hang all Officers we cry, and the Magistrate too, by;
When the Subsidie's encreast, we are not a penny Sest.
Nor will any go to Law, with the Beggar for a straw.
All which happiness he brags, he doth owe unto his rags._
 

Enter Snap, Hubert, and Hemskirke.

 
Snap. A Cove comes: Fumbumbis.
 
 
Prig. To your postures; arm.
 
 
Hub. Yonder's the Town: I see it.
 
 
Hemsk. There's our danger
Indeed afore us, if our shadows save not.
 
 
Hig. Bless your good Worships.
 
 
Fer. One small piece of mony.
 
 
Prig. Amongst us all poor wretches.
 
 
Clau. Blind, and lame.
 
 
Ginks. For his sake that gives all.
 
 
Hig. Pitifull Worships.
 
 
Snap. One little doyt.
 

Enter Jaculin.

 
Jac. King, by your leave, where are you?
 
 
Fer. To buy a little bread.
 
 
Hig. To feed so many Mouths, as will ever pray for you.
 
 
Prig. Here be seven of us.
 
 
Hig. Seven, good Master,
O remember seven, Seven blessings.
 
 
Fer. Remember, gentle Worship.
 
 
Hig. 'Gainst seven deadly sins.
 
 
Prig. And seven sleepers.
 
 
Hig. If they be hard of heart, and will give nothing—
Alas, we had not a charity this three dayes.
 
 
Hub. There's amongst you all.
 
 
Fer. Heaven reward you.
 
 
Prig. Lord reward you.
 
 
Hig. The Prince of pity bless thee.
 
 
Hub. Do I see? or is't my fancy that would have it so?
Ha? 'tis her face: come hither maid.
 
 
Jac. What ha' you,
Bells for my squirrel? I ha' giv'n bun meat,
You do not love me, do you? catch me a butterfly,
And I'le love you again; when? can you tell?
Peace, we go a birding: I shall have a fine thing. [Exit.
 
 
Hub. Her voyce too sayes the same; but for my head
I would not that her manners were so chang'd.
Hear me thou honest fellow; what's this maiden,
That lives amongst you here?
 
 
Gin. Ao, ao, ao, ao.
 
 
Hub. How? nothing but signs?
 
 
Gin. Ao, ao, ao, ao.
 
 
Hub. This is strange, I would fain have it her, but not her thus.
 
 
Hig. He is de-de-de-de-de-de-deaf, and du-du-dude-dumb Sir.
 
 
Hub. Slid they did all speak plain ev'n now me thought.
Do'st thou know this same maid?
 
 
Snap. Why, why, why, why, which, gu, gu, gu, gu, Gods fool
She was bo-bo-bo-bo-born at the barn yonder,
By-be-be-be-be-Beggars Bush-bo-bo-Bush
Her name is, My-my-my-my-my-match: so was her Mo-mo-mo-Mothers too-too.
 
 
Hub. I understand no word he says; how long
Has she been here?
 
 
Snap. Lo-lo-long enough to be ni-ni-nigled, and she ha' go-go-go-good luck.
 
 
Hub. I must be better inform'd, than by this way.
Here was another face too, that I mark'd
Of the old mans: but they are vanish'd all
Most suddenly: I will come here again,
O, that I were so happy, as to find it,
What I yet hope: it is put on.
 
 
Hem. What mean you Sir,
To stay there with that stammerer?
 
 
Hub. Farewell friend,—
It will be worth return, to search: Come,
Protect us our disguise now, pre'thee Hemskirk
If we be taken, how do'st thou imagine
This town will use us, that hath stood so long
Out against Wolfort?
 
 
Hem. Ev'n to hang us forth
Upon their walls a sunning, to make Crows meat,
If I were not assur'd o' the Burgomaster,
And had a pretty excuse to see a niece there,
I should scarce venture.
 
 
Hub. Come 'tis now too late
To look back at the ports: good luck, and enter. [Exeunt.
 

SCENA II

Enter Goswin.

 
Gos. Still blow'st thou there? and from all other parts,
Do all my agents sleep, that nothing comes?
There's a conspiracy of windes, and servants,
If not of Elements, to ha' me break;
What should I think unless the Seas, and Sands
Had swallow'd up my ships? or fire had spoil'd
My ware-houses? or death devour'd my Factors?
I must ha' had some returns.
 

Enter Merchants.

 
1 Mer. 'Save you Sir.
 
 
Gos. 'Save you.
 
 
1 Mer. No news yet o' your Ships?
 
 
Gos. Not any yet Sir.
 
 
1 Mer. 'Tis strange. [Exit.
 
 
Gos. 'Tis true Sir: what a voyce was here now?
This was one passing bell, a thousand ravens
Sung in that man now, to presage my ruins.
 
 
2 Mer. Goswin, good day, these winds are very constant.
 
 
Gos. They are so Sir; to hurt—
 
 
2 Mer. Ha' you had no letters Lately from England, nor from Denmark?
 
 
Gos. Neither.
 
 
2 Mer. This wind brings them; nor no news over land,
Through Spain, from the Straights?
 
 
Gos. Not any.
 
 
2 Mer. I am sorry Sir. [Exit.
 
 
Gos. They talk me down: and as 'tis said of Vulturs
They scent a field fought, and do smell the carkasses
By many hundred miles: So do these, my wracks
At greater distances. Why, thy will Heaven
Come on, and be: yet if thou please, preserve me;
But in my own adventure, here at home,
Of my chast love, to keep me worthy of her,
It shall be put in scale 'gainst all ill fortunes:
I am not broken yet: nor should I fall,
Me thinks with less than that, that ruins all. [Exit.
 

SCENA III

Enter Van-dunck, Hubert, Hemskirk, and Margaret, Boors.

 
Van. Captain, you are welcom; so is this your friend
Most safely welcom, though our Town stand out
Against your Master, you shall find good quarter:
The troth is, we not love him: Margaret some wine,
Let's talk a little treason, if we can
Talk treason, 'gainst the traitors; by your leave, Gentlemen,
We, here in Bruges, think he do's usurp,
And therefore I am bold with him.
 
 
Hub. Sir, your boldness
Happily becomes your mouth, but not our ears,
While we are his servants; And as we come here,
Not to ask questions, walk forth on your walls,
Visit your courts of guard, view your munition,
Ask of your corn-provisions, nor enquire
Into the least, as spies upon your strengths,
So let's entreat, we may receive from you
Nothing in passage or discourse, but what
We may with gladness, and our honesties here,
And that shall seal our welcom.
 
 
Van. Good: let's drink then,
Fill out, I keep mine old pearl still Captain.
 
 
Marg. I hang fast man.
 
 
Hen. Old Jewels commend their keeper, Sir.
 
 
Van. Here's to you with a heart, my Captains friend,
With a good heart, and if this make us speak
Bold words, anon, 'tis all under the Rose
Forgotten: drown all memory, when we drink.
 
 
Hub. 'Tis freely spoken noble Burgomaster, I'le do you right.
 
 
Hem. Nay Sir mine heer Van-dunck
Is a true Statesman.
 
 
Van. Fill my Captains cup there,
O that your Master Wolfort
Had been an honest man.
 
 
Hub. Sir?
 
 
Van. Under the Rose.
 
 
Hem. Here's to you Marget.
 
 
Marg. Welcome, welcome Captain.
 
 
Van. Well said my pearl still.
 
 
Hem. And how does my Niece?
Almost a Woman, I think? This friend of mine,
I drew along w[i]th me, through so much hazard,
Only to see her: she was my errand.
 
 
Van. I, a kind Uncle you are (fill him his glass)
That in seven years, could not find leisure—
 
 
Hem. No, It's not so much.
 
 
Van. I'le bate you ne'r an hour on't,
It was before the Brabander 'gan his War,
For moon-shine, i'the water there, his Daughter
That never was lost: yet you could not find time
To see a Kinswoman; but she is worth the seeing, Sir,
Now you are come, you ask if she were a Woman?
She is a Woman, Sir, fetch her forth Marget. [Exit Marg.
And a fine Woman, and has Suitors.
 
 
Hem. How? What Suitors are they?
 
 
Van. Bachellors; young Burgers:
And one, a Gallant, the young Prince of Merchants
We call him here in Bruges.
 
 
Hem. How? a Merchant?
I thought, Vandunke, you had understood me better,
And my Niece too, so trusted to you by me,
Than t'admit of such in name of Suitors.
 
 
Van. Such? he is such a such, as were she mine
I'd give him thirty thousand crowns with her.
 
 
Hem. But the same things, Sir, fit not you and me. [Ex.
 
 
Van. Why, give's some wine, then; this will fit us all:
Here's to you still, my Captains friend: All out:
And still, would Wolfort were an honest man,
Under the Rose, I speak it: but this Merchant
Is a brave boy: he lives so, i'the Town here,
We know not what to think on him: at some times
We fear he will be Bankrupt; he do's stretch
Tenter his credit so; embraces all,
And to't, the winds have been contrary long.
But then, if he should have all his returns,
We think he would be a King, and are half sure on't.
Your Master is a Traitor, for all this,
Under the Rose: Here's to you; and usurps
The Earldom from a better man.
 
 
Hub. I marry, Sir, Where is that man?
 
 
Van. Nay soft: and I could tell you
'Tis ten to one I would not: here's my hand,
I love not Wolfort: sit you still, with that:
Here comes my Captain again, and his fine Niece,
And there's my Merchant; view him well: fill wine here.
 

Enter Hemskirk, Gertrude, and Goswin.

 
Hem. You must not only know me for your Uncle
Now, but obey me: you, go cast your self
Away, upon a Dunghil here? a Merchant?
A petty fellow? one that makes his Trade
With Oaths and perjuries?
 
 
Gos. What is that you say, Sir?
If it be me you speak of, as your eye
Seems to direct, I wish you would speak to me, Sir.
 
 
Hem. Sir, I do say, she is no Merchandize,
Will that suffice you?
 
 
Gos. Merchandize good Sir?
Though ye be Kinsman to her, take no leave thence
To use me with contempt: I ever thought
Your Niece above all price.
 
 
Hem. And do so still, Sir, I assure you, her rates are more than you are worth.
 
 
Gos. You do not know, what a Gentleman's worth, Sir,
Nor can you value him.
 
 
H[u]b. Well said Merchant.
 
 
Van. Nay, Let him alone, and ply your matter.
 
 
Hem. A Gentleman?
What o'the Wool-pack? or the Sugar-chest?
Or lists of Velvet? which is't pound, or yard,
You vent your Gentry by?
 
 
Hub. O Hemskirk, fye.
 
 
Van. Come, do not mind 'em, drink, he is no Wolfort, Captain, I advise you.
 
 
Hem. Alas, my pretty man,
I think't be angry, by its look: Come hither,
Turn this way, a little: if it were the blood
Of Charlemaine, as't may (for ought I know)
Be some good Botchers issue, here in Bruges.
 
 
Gos. How?
 
 
Hem. Nay: I'me not certain of that; of this I am,
If it once buy, and sell, its Gentry is gone.
 
 
Gos. Ha, ha.
 
 
Hem. You are angry, though ye laugh.
 
 
Gos. No, now 'tis pity
Of your poor argument. Do not you, the Lords
Of Land (if you be any) sell the grass,
The Corn, the Straw, the Milk, the Cheese?
 
 
Van. And Butter: Remember Butter; do not leave out Butter.
 
 
Gos. The Beefs and Muttons that your grounds are stor'd with?
Swine, with the very mast, beside the Woods?
 
 
Hem. No, for those sordid uses we have Tenants,
Or else our Bailiffs.
 
 
Gos. Have not we, Sir, Chap-men,
And Factors, then to answer these? your honour
Fetch'd from the Heralds ABC, and said over
With your Court faces, once an hour, shall never
Make me mistake my self. Do not your Lawyers
Sell all their practice, as your Priests their prayers?
What is not bought, and sold? The company
That you had last, what had you for't, i'faith?
 
 
Hem. You now grow sawcy.
 
 
Gos. Sure I have been bred
Still, with my honest liberty, and must use it.
 
 
Hem. Upon your equals then.
 
 
Gos. Sir, he that will Provoke me first, doth make himself my equal.
 
 
Hem. Do ye hear? no more.
 
 
Gos. Yes, Sir, this little, I pray you,
And't shall be aside, then after, as you please.
You appear the Uncle, Sir, to her I love
More than mine eyes; and I have heard your scorns
With so much scoffing, and so much shame,
As each strive which is greater: But, believe me,
I suck'd not in this patience with my milk.
Do not presume, because you see me young,
Or cast despights on my profession
For the civility and tameness of it.
A good man bears a contumely worse
Than he would do an injury. Proceed not
To my offence: wrong is not still successful,
Indeed it is not: I would approach your Kins-woman
With all respect, done to your self and her.
 
 
Hem. Away Companion: handling her? take that. [Strikes him.
 
 
Gos. Nay, I do love no blows, Sir, there's exchange.
 
 
Hub. Hold, Sir. (He gets Hemskirks sword and cuts him on the head.
 
 
Mar. O murther.
 
 
Ger. Help my Goswin.
 
 
Mar. Man.
 
 
Van. Let 'em alone; my life for one.
 
 
Gos. Nay come, If you have will.
 
 
Hub. None to offend you, I, Sir.
 
 
Gos. He that had, thank himself: not hand her? yes Sir,
And clasp her, and embrace her; and (would she
Now go with me) bear her through all her Race,
Her Father, Brethren, and her Uncles, arm'd,
And all their Nephews, though they stood a wood
Of Pikes, and wall of Canon: kiss me Gertrude,
Quake not, but kiss me.
 
 
Van. Kiss him, Girl, I bid you;
My Merchant Royal; fear no Uncles: hang 'em,
Hang up all Uncles: Are not we in Bruges?
Under the Rose here?
 
 
Gos. In this circle, Love,
Thou art as safe, as in a Tower of Brass;
Let such as do wrong, fear.
 
 
Van. I, that's good, Let Wolfort look to that.
 
 
Gos. Sir, here she stands,
Your Niece, and my beloved. One of these titles
She must apply to; if unto the last,
Not all the anger can be sent unto her,
In frown, or voyce, or other art, shall force her,
Had Hercules a hand in't: Come, my Joy,
Say thou art mine, aloud Love, and profess it.
 
 
Van. Doe: and I drink to it.
 
 
Gos. Prethee say so, Love.
 
 
Ger. 'Twould take away the honour from my blushes:
Do not you play the tyrant, sweet: they speak it.
 
 
Hem. I thank you niece.
 
 
Gos. Sir, thank her for your life,
And fetch your sword within.
 
 
Hem. You insult too much
With your good fortune, Sir. [Exeunt Gos. and Ger.
 
 
Hub. A brave clear Spirit; Hemskirk, you were to blame: a civil habit
Oft covers a good man: and you may meet
In person of a Merchant, with a soul
As resolute, and free, and all wayes worthy,
As else in any file of man-kind: pray you,
What meant you so to slight him?
 
 
Hem. 'Tis done now,
Ask no more of it; I must suffer. [Exit Hemskirk.
 
 
Hub. This
Is still the punishment of rashness, sorrow.
Well; I must to the woods, for nothing here
Will be got out. There, I may chance to learn
Somewhat to help my enquiries further.
 
 
Van. Ha? A Looking-glass?
 
 
Hub. How now, brave Burgomaster?
 
 
Van. I love no Wolforts, and my name's Vandunk,
 
 
Hub. Van drunk it's rather: come, go sleep within.
 
 
Van. Earl Florez is right heir, and this same Wolfort
Under the Rose I speak it—
 
 
Hub. Very hardly.
 
 
Van-d. Usurps: and a rank Traitor, as ever breath'd,
And all that do uphold him. Let me goe,
No man shall hold me, that upholds him;
Do you uphold him?
 
 
Hub. No.
 
 
Van. Then hold me up. [Exeunt.
 

Enter Goswin, and Hemskirk.

 
Hem. Sir, I presume, you have a sword of your own,
That can so handle anothers.
 
 
Gos. Faith you may Sir.
 
 
Hem. And ye have made me have so much better thoughts of you
As I am bound to call you forth.
 
 
Gos. For what Sir?
 
 
Hem. To the repairing of mine honour, and hurt here.
 
 
Gos. Express your way.
 
 
Hem. By fight, and speedily.
 
 
Gos. You have your will: Require you any more?
 
 
Hem. That you be secret: and come single.
 
 
Gos. I will.
 
 
Hem. As you are the Gentleman you would be thought.
 
 
Gos. Without the Conjuration: and I'le bring
Only my sword, which I will fit to yours,
I'le take his length within.
 
 
Hem. Your place now Sir?
 
 
Gos. By the Sand-hills.
 
 
Hem. Sir, nearer to the woods,
If you thought so, were fitter.
 
 
Gos. There, then.
 
 
Hem. Good. Your time?
 
 
Gos. 'Twixt seven and eight.
 
 
Hem. You'l give me Sir
Cause to report you worthy of my Niece,
If you come, like your promise.
 
 
Gos. If I do not, Let no man think to call me unworthy first,
I'le do't my self, and justly wish to want her.– [Exeunt.