Montr.Burnt? Soldiers, bind him.Tortures shall wring both hat and purse from you.Villain, I’ll be revenged for that base scornThy hell-hound brother clapped upon my head.
Longa.And so will Longaville.Away with him!
Montr.Drag him to yonder tower, there shackle him,And in a pair of stocks lock up his heels,And bid your wishing cap deliver you.Give us the purse and hat, we’ll set thee free,Else rot to death and starve.
Amp.Oh tyranny, you need not scorn the badge which you did bear:Beasts would you be, though horns you did not wear.
Montr.Drag hence the cur: come, noble Longaville,One’s sure, and were the other fiend as fast,Their pride should cost their lives: their purse and hatShall both be ours, we’ll share them equally.
Longa.That will be some amends for arming me.
EnterAndelocia,andShadowafter him.
Montr.Peace, Longaville, yonder the gallant comes.
Longa.Y’are well encountered.
Andel.Thanks, Lord Longaville.
Longa.The king expects your presence at the court.
Andel.And thither am I going.
Shad.Pips fine, fine apples of Tamasco, ha, ha, ha!
Montr.Wert thou that Irishman that cozened us?
Shad.Pips fine, ha, ha, ha! no not I: not Shadow.
Andel.Were not your apples delicate and rare?
Longa.The worst that e’er you sold; sirs, bind him fast.
Andel.What, will you murder me? help, help, some help!
Shad.Help, help, help![ExitShadow.
Montr.Follow that dog, and stop his bawling throat.
Andel.Villains, what means this barbarous treachery?
Longa.We mean to be revenged for our disgrace.
Montr.And stop the golden current of thy waste.
Andel.Murder! they murder me, O call for help.
Longa.Thy voice is spent in vain; come, come, this purse,This well-spring of your prodigality.
Andel.Are you appointed by the king to this?
Montr.No, no; rise, spurn him up! know you who’s this?
Andel.My brother Ampedo? Alas, what fateHath made thy virtues so unfortunate?
Amp.Thy riot and the wrong of these two lords,Who causeless thus do starve[408]me in this prison.
Longa.Strive not y’are best, villains, lift in his legs.
Andel.Traitors to honour, what do you intend?
Longa.That riot shall in wretchedness have end.Question thy brother with what cost he’s fed,And so assure thou shall be banqueted.[ExeuntLongavilleandMontrose.
Amp.In want, in misery, in woe and care,Poor Ampedo his fill hath surfeited:My want is famine, bolts my misery,My care and woe should be thy portion.
Andel.Give me that portion, for I have a heartShall spend it freely, and make bankruptThe proudest woe that ever wet man’s eyes.Care, with a mischief! wherefore should I care?Have I rid side by side by mighty kings,Yet be thus bridled now? I’ll tear these fetters,Murder! cry, murder! Ampedo, aloud.To bear this scorn our fortunes are too proud.
Amp.O folly, thou hast power to make flesh glad,When the rich soul in wretchedness is clad.
Andel.Peace, fool, am I not Fortune’s minion?These bands are but one wrinkle of her frown,This is her evening mask, her next morn’s eyeShall overshine the sun in majesty.
Amp.But this sad night will make an end of me.Brother, farewell; grief, famine, sorrow, want,Have made an end of wretched Ampedo.
Andel.Where is the wishing hat?
Amp.Consumed in fire.
Andel.Accursèd be those hands that did destroy it;That would redeem us, did we now enjoy it.
Amp.Wanton, farewell! I faint, Death’s frozen handCongeals life’s little river in my breast.No man before his end is truly blest.[Dies.
Andel.O miserable, miserable soul!Thus a foul life makes death to look more foul.
Re-enterLongavilleandMontrosewith a halter.
Longa.Thus shall this golden purse divided be,One day for you, another day for me.
Montr.Of days anon, say, what determine you,Shall they have liberty, or shall they die?
Longa.Die sure: and see, I think the elder’s dead.
Andel.Ay, murderers, he is dead. O sacred Wisdom,Had Fortunatus been enamourèdOf thy celestial beauty, his two sonsHad shined like two bright suns.
Longa.Pull hard, Montrose.
Andel.Come you to strangle me? are you the hangman?Hell-hounds, y’are damned for this impiety.Fortune, forgive me! I deserve thy hate;Myself have made myself a reprobate.Virtue, forgive me! for I have transgressedAgainst thy laws; my vows are quite forgot,And therefore shame is fallen to my sin’s lot.Riches and knowledge are two gifts divine.They that abuse them both as I have done,To shame, to beggary, to hell must run.O conscience, hold thy sting, cease to afflict me.Be quick, tormentors, I desire to die;No death is equal to my misery.Cyprus, vain world and vanity, farewell.Who builds his Heaven on earth, is sure of hell.[Dies.
Longa.He’s dead: in some deep vault let’s throw their bodies.
Montr.First let us see the purse, Lord Longaville.
Longa.Here ’tis, by this we’ll fill this tower with gold.
Montr.Frenchman, this purse is counterfeit.
Longa.Thou liest.Scot, thou hast cozened me, give me the right,Else shall thy bosom be my weapon’s grave.
Montr.Villain, thou shalt not rob me of my due.[They fight.
EnterAthelstane,Agripyne,Orleans,Galloway,Cornwall,Chester,Lincoln,andShadowwith weapons at one door:Fortune,Vice,and theirAttendantsat the other.
All.Lay hands upon the murderers, strike them down.
Fortune.Surrender up this purse, for this is mine.
All.Are these two devils, or some powers divine?
Shad.O see, see, O my two masters, poor Shadow’s substances; what shall I do? Whose body shall Shadow now follow?
Fortune.Peace, idiot, thou shalt find rich heaps of fools,That will be proud to entertain a shadow.I charm thy babbling lips from troubling me.You need not hold them, see, I smite them downLower than hell: base souls, sink to your heaven.
Vice.I do arrest you both my prisoners.
Fortune.Stand not amazed, you gods of earth, at this,She that arresteth these two fools is Vice,They have broke Virtue’s laws, Vice is her sergeant,Her jailer and her executioner.Look on those Cypriots, Fortunatus’ sons,They and their father were my minions,My name is Fortune.
All.O dread deity!
Fortune.Kneel not to me: if Fortune list to frown,You need not fall down, for she’ll spurn you down;Arise! but, fools, on you I’ll triumph thus:What have you gained by being covetous?This prodigal purse did Fortune’s bounteous handBestow on them, their riots made them poor,And set these marks of miserable deathOn all their pride, the famine of base goldHath made your souls to murder’s hands be sold,Only to be called rich. But, idiots, seeThe virtues to be fled, Fortune hath caused it so;Those that will all devour, must all forego.
Athelst.Most sacred Goddess!
Fortune.Peace, you flatterer.Thy tongue but heaps more vengeance on thy head.Fortune is angry with thee, in thee burnsA greedy covetous fire, in AgripynePride like a monarch revels, and those sinsHave led you blind-fold to your former shames,But Virtue pardoned you, and so doth Fortune.
Athelst.andAgrip.All thanks to both your sacred deities.
Fortune.As for these metal-eaters, these base thieves,Who rather than they would be counted poor,Will dig through hell for gold,—you were forgivenBy Virtue’s general pardon; her broad sealGave you your lives, when she took off your horns.Yet having scarce one foot out of the jail,You tempt damnation by more desperate means,You both are mortal, and your pains shall ringThrough both your ears, to terrify your souls,As please the judgment of this mortal king.
Athelst.Fair Empress of the world, since you resignYour power to me, this sentence shall be mine:Thou shall be tortured on a wheel to death,Thou with wild horses shall be quarterèd.[Points toMontroseandLongaville.
Vice.Ha, ha, weak judge, weak judgment; I reverseThat sentence, for they are my prisoners.Embalm the bodies of those Cypriots,And honour them with princely burial.For those do as you please; but for these two,I kiss you both, I love you, y’are my minions.Untie their bands, Vice doth reprieve you both.I set you free.
Both.Thanks, gracious deity.
Vice.Begone, but you in liberty shall findMore bondage than in chains; fools, get you hence,Both wander with tormented conscience.
Longa.O horrid judgment, that’s the hell indeed.
Montr.Come, come, our death ne’er ends if conscience bleed.
Both.O miserable, miserable men![ExeuntLongavilleandMontrose.
Fortune.Fortune triumphs at this, yet to appearAll like myself, that which from those I took,King Athelstane, I will bestow on thee,And in it the old virtue I infuse:But, king, take heed how thou my gifts dost use.England shall ne’er be poor, if England striveRather by virtue than by wealth to thrive.
EnterVirtue,crowned:NymphsandKingsattending on her, crowned with olive branches and laurels; music sounding.
Vice.Virtue? alas good soul, she hides her head.
Virtue.What envious tongue said, “Virtue hides her head?”
Vice.She that will drive thee into banishment.
Fortune.She that hath conquered thee: how dar’st thou come,Thus tricked in gaudy feathers, and thus guardedWith crownèd kings and Muses, when thy foeHath trod thus on thee, and now triumphs so?Where’s virtuous Ampedo? See, he’s her slave;For following thee, this recompense they have.
Virtue.Is Ampedo her slave? Why, that’s my glory.The idiot’s cap I once wore on my head,Did figure him; those that like him do muffleVirtue in clouds, and care not how she shine,I’ll make their glory like to his decline.He made no use of me, but like a miser,Locked up his wealth in rusty bars of sloth;His face was beautiful, but wore a mask,And in the world’s eyes seemed a blackamoor:So perish they that so keep Virtue poor.
Vice.Thou art a fool to strive, I am more strong,And greater than thyself; then, Virtue, fly,And hide thy face, yield me the victory.
Virtue.Is Vice higher than Virtue? that’s my glory,The higher that thou art, thou art more horrid:The world will love me for my comeliness.
Fortune.Thine own self loves thyself: why on the headsOf Agripyne, Montrose, and Longaville,—English, Scot, French—did Vice clap ugly horns,But to approve that English, French and Scot,And all the world else, kneel and honour Vice;But in no country, Virtue is of price!
Virtue.Yes, in all countries Virtue is of price,In every kingdom some diviner breastIs more enamoured of me than the rest.Have English, Scot and French bowed knees to thee?Why that’s my glory too, for by their shame,Men will abhor thee and adore my name.Fortune, thou art too weak, Vice, th’art a foolTo fight with me; I suffered you awhileT’eclipse my brightness, but I now will shine,And make you swear your beauty’s base to mine.
Fortune.Thou art too insolent; see, here’s a courtOf mortal judges; let’s by them be tried,Which of us three shall most be deified.
Vice.I am content.
Fortune.And I.
Virtue.So am not I.My judge shall be your sacred deity.[409]
Vice.O miserable me, I am undone.[ExitViceand her train.
All.O stop the horrid monster.
Virtue.Let her run.Fortune, who conquers now?
Fortune.Virtue, I see,Thou wilt triumph both over her and me.
All.Empress of Heaven and earth.
Fortune.Why do you mock me?Kneel not to me, to her transfer your eyes,There sits the Queen of Chance, I bend my kneesLower than yours. Dread goddess, ’tis most meetThat Fortune fall down at thy conquering feet.Thou sacred Empress that command’st the Fates,Forgive what I have to thy handmaid done,And at thy chariot wheels Fortune shall run,And be thy captive, and to thee resignAll powers which Heaven’s large patent have made mine.
Virtue.Fortune, th’art vanquished. Sacred deity,O now pronounce who wins the victory,And yet that sentence needs not, since alone,Your virtuous presence Vice hath overthrown,Yet to confirm the conquest on your side,Look but on Fortunatus and his sons;Of all the wealth those gallants did possess,Only poor Shadow is left, comfortless:Their glory’s faded and their golden pride.
Shad.Only poor Shadow tells how poor they died.
Virtue.All that they had, or mortal men can have,Sends only but a Shadow from the grave.Virtue alone lives still, and lives in you;I am a counterfeit, you are the true;I am a shadow, at your feet I fall,Begging for these, and these, myself and all.All these that thus do kneel before your eyes,Are shadows like myself: dread nymph, it liesIn you to make us substances. O do it!Virtue I am sure you love, she wooes you to it.I read a verdict in your sun-like eyes,And this it is: Virtue the victory.
All.All loudly cry, Virtue the victory!
Fortune.Virtue the victory! for joy of this,Those self-same hymns which you to Fortune sungLet them be now in Virtue’s honour rung.
Song.
Virtue smiles: cry holiday,Dimples on her cheeks do dwell,Virtue frowns, cry welladay,Her love is Heaven, her hate is hell.Since Heaven and hell obey her power,Tremble when her eyes do lower.Since Heaven and hell her power obey,Where she smiles, cry holiday.
Holiday with joy we cry,And bend, and bend, and merrily,Sing hymns to Virtue’s deity:Sing hymns to Virtue’s deity.
As they are about to depart, enterTwo Old Men.
1st O. Man.Nay stay, poor pilgrims, when I entered firstThe circle of this bright celestial sphere,I wept for joy, now I could weep for fear.
2nd O. Man.I fear we all like mortal men shall proveWeak, not in love, but in expressing love.
1st O. Man.Let every one beg once more on his knee,One pardon for himself, and one for me;For I enticed you hither. O dear Goddess,Breathe life in our numbed spirits with one smile,And from this cold earth, we with lively souls,Shall rise like men new-born, and make Heaven soundWith hymns sung to thy name, and prayers that weMay once a year so oft enjoy this sight,Till these young boys change their curled locks to white,And when gray-wingèd age sits on their heads,That so their children may supply their steads,And that Heaven’s great arithmetician,Who in the scales of number weighs the world,May still to forty-two add one year more,And still add one to one, that went before,And multiply four tens by many a ten:To this I cry, Amen.
All.Amen, amen!
1st O. Man.Good-night, dear mistress, those that wish thee harm,Thus let them stoop under destruction’s arm.
All.Amen, amen, amen![Exeunt.
THE WITCH OF EDMONTON.
TheWitch of Edmonton, which was probably first performed in 1623, was not published until thirty-five years later, in 1658. It was then issued in the usual quarto form, with the title:The Witch of Edmonton: “A known True Story. Composed into a Tragi-Comedy by divers well-esteemed Poets, William Rowley, Thomas Dekker, John Ford, &c. Acted by the Prince’s Servants, often at the Cock-Pit in Drury-Lane, once at Court, with singular Applause.” The best modern reprint of the play is that in the Gifford-Dyce edition of Ford, upon which the present version is based.
It is impossible to assign the exact share of the various authors in the play. The business of the Witch, the rustic chorus, and certain other parts mark themselves out as mainly Dekker’s. The conception of Sir Arthur Clarington, and the subsidiary domestic plot is no doubt mainly Ford’s. Rowley’s share is more difficult to ascertain. The intimate collaboration of all three can alone be held accountable for some of the scenes, and indeed in even the passages most characteristic of any one of the authors, the touch of another often shows itself in a chance word or phrase.
The justification for the description of the play as “A known true story” is a pamphlet written by Henry Goodcole, and published at London in 1621, giving an account of one Elizabeth Sawyer, late of Islington, who was “executed in 1621 for witchcraft.” See Caulfield’s “Portraits, Memoirs, and Characters of Remarkable Persons,” 1794. No existing copy of the pamphlet is known, but the British Museum possesses copies of two of Goodcole’s other pamphlets on similar subjects.
The town of Edmonton hath lent the stageA Devil[411]and a Witch, both in an age.To make comparisons it were uncivilBetween so even a pair, a Witch and Devil;But as the year doth with his plenty bringAs well a latter as a former spring,So hath this Witch enjoyed the first, and reasonPresumes she may partake the other season:In acts deserving name, the proverb says,“Once good, and ever;” why not so in plays?Why not in this? since, gentlemen, we flatterNo expectation; here is mirth and matter.MASTER BIRD.
The town of Edmonton hath lent the stageA Devil[411]and a Witch, both in an age.To make comparisons it were uncivilBetween so even a pair, a Witch and Devil;But as the year doth with his plenty bringAs well a latter as a former spring,So hath this Witch enjoyed the first, and reasonPresumes she may partake the other season:In acts deserving name, the proverb says,“Once good, and ever;” why not so in plays?Why not in this? since, gentlemen, we flatterNo expectation; here is mirth and matter.MASTER BIRD.
The town of Edmonton hath lent the stageA Devil[411]and a Witch, both in an age.To make comparisons it were uncivilBetween so even a pair, a Witch and Devil;But as the year doth with his plenty bringAs well a latter as a former spring,So hath this Witch enjoyed the first, and reasonPresumes she may partake the other season:In acts deserving name, the proverb says,“Once good, and ever;” why not so in plays?Why not in this? since, gentlemen, we flatterNo expectation; here is mirth and matter.
The whole argument of the play is this distich.Forced marriage, murder; murder blood requires:Reproach, revenge; revenge hell’s help desires.
The whole argument of the play is this distich.Forced marriage, murder; murder blood requires:Reproach, revenge; revenge hell’s help desires.
The whole argument of the play is this distich.
Forced marriage, murder; murder blood requires:Reproach, revenge; revenge hell’s help desires.
SirArthur Clarington.Old Thorney, a Gentleman.Carter, a Rich Yeoman.Warbeck,}Suitors To Carter’s Daughters.Somerton,Frank, Thorney’s Son.Old Banks, a Countryman.Cuddy Banks, his Son.Ratcliffe,}Countrymen.Hamluc,Morris-dancers.Sawgut, an old Fiddler.A Dog, a Familiar.A Spirit.Countrymen, Justice, Constable, Officers, Serving-men and Maids.MotherSawyer, the Witch.Ann, Ratcliffe’s Wife.Susan,}Carter’s Daughters.Katherine,Winnifred, Sir Arthur’s Maid.SCENE—The town and neighbourhood ofEdmonton; in theend of the last act,London.
SirArthur Clarington.Old Thorney, a Gentleman.Carter, a Rich Yeoman.Warbeck,}Suitors To Carter’s Daughters.Somerton,Frank, Thorney’s Son.Old Banks, a Countryman.Cuddy Banks, his Son.Ratcliffe,}Countrymen.Hamluc,Morris-dancers.Sawgut, an old Fiddler.A Dog, a Familiar.A Spirit.Countrymen, Justice, Constable, Officers, Serving-men and Maids.MotherSawyer, the Witch.Ann, Ratcliffe’s Wife.Susan,}Carter’s Daughters.Katherine,Winnifred, Sir Arthur’s Maid.SCENE—The town and neighbourhood ofEdmonton; in theend of the last act,London.
Warbeck,}Suitors To Carter’s Daughters.Somerton,
Ratcliffe,}Countrymen.Hamluc,
Susan,}Carter’s Daughters.Katherine,
THE WITCH OF EDMONTON.
EnterFrank ThorneyandWinnifred,who is with child.
Frank.Come, wench; why, here’s a business soon dispatched:Thy heart I know is now at ease; thou need’st notFear what the tattling gossips in their cupsCan speak against thy fame; thy child shall knowWhom to call dad now.
Win.You have here dischargedThe true part of an honest man; I cannotRequest a fuller satisfactionThan you have freely granted: yet methinks’Tis an hard case, being lawful man and wife,We should not live together.
Frank.Had I failedIn promise of my truth to thee, we mustHave then been ever sundered; now the longestOf our forbearing either’s companyIs only but to gain a little timeFor our continuing thrift; that so hereafterThe heir that shall be born may not have causeTo curse his hour of birth, which made him feelThe misery of beggary and want,—Two devils that are occasions to enforceA shameful end. My plots aim but to keepMy father’s love.
Win.And that will be as difficultTo be preserved, when he shall understandHow you are married, as it will be now,Should you confess it to him.
Frank.Fathers areWon by degrees, not bluntly, as our mastersOr wrongèd friends are; and besides I’ll useSuch dutiful and ready means, that ereHe can have notice of what’s past, th’ inheritanceTo which I am born heir shall be assured;That done, why, let him know it: if he like it not,Yet he shall have no power in him leftTo cross the thriving of it.
Win.You who hadThe conquest of my maiden-love may easilyConquer the fears of my distrust. And whitherMust I be hurried?
Frank.Prithee do not useA word so much unsuitable to the constantAffections of thy husband: thou shalt liveNear Waltham Abbey with thy uncle Selman;I have acquainted him with all at large:He’ll use thee kindly; thou shalt want no pleasures,Nor any other fit supplies whateverThou canst in heart desire.
Win.All these are nothingWithout your company.
Frank.Which thou shalt haveOnce every month at least.
Win.Once every month!Is this to have an husband?
Frank.Perhaps oftener;That’s as occasion serves.
Win.Ay, ay; in caseNo other beauty tempt your eye, whom youLike better, I may chance to be remembered,And see you now and then. Faith, I did hopeYou’d not have used me so: ’tis but my fortune.And yet, if not for my sake, have some pityUpon the child I go with; that’s your own:And ’less you’ll be a cruel-hearted father,You cannot but remember that.Heaven knows how—
Frank.To quit which fear at once,As by the ceremony late performedI plighted thee a faith as free from challengeAs any double thought; once more, in hearingOf Heaven and thee, I vow that never henceforthDisgrace, reproof, lawless affections, threats,Or what can be suggested ’gainst our marriage,Shall cause me falsify that bridal oathThat binds me thine. And, Winnifred, wheneverThe wanton heat of youth, by subtle baitsOf beauty, or what woman’s art can practise,Draw me from only loving thee, let HeavenInflict upon my life some fearful ruin!I hope thou dost believe me.
Win.Swear no more;I am confirmed, and will resolve to doWhat you think most behoveful for us.
Frank.Thus, then;Make thyself ready; at the furthest houseUpon the green without the town, your uncleExpects you. For a little time, farewell!
Win.Sweet,We shall meet again as soon as thou canst possibly?
Frank.We shall. One kiss—away![ExitWinnifred.
EnterSir Arthur Clarington.
Sir Arth.Frank Thorney!
Frank.Here, sir.
Sir Arth.Alone? then must I tell thee in plain termsThou hast wronged thy master’s house basely and lewdly.