A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9

The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX Author: Various Release Date: December 31, 2003 [EBook #10550] Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD ENGLISH PLAYS *** Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG Distributed Proofreaders A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOL. IX Originally published by Robert Dodsley in the Year 1744. Fourth Edition, Now first chronologically arranged, revised and enlarged with the Notes of all the Commentators, and new Notes By W. CAREW HAZLITT. 1874-76. CONTENTS: How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad The Return from Parnassus Wily Beguiled Lingua The Miseries of Enforced Marriage HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM ABAD._EDITION A Pleasant conceited Comedie, Wherein is shewed how a man may chuse a good Wife from a bad. As it hath bene sundry times Acted by the Earle of Worcesters Seruants. London Printed for Mathew Lawe, and are to be solde at his shop in Paules Church-yard, neare unto S. Augustines gate, at the signe of the Foxe_. 1602. 4to. [There were editions in 1605, 1608, 1614, 1621, 1630, 1634, all in 4to. It is not improbable that the author was Joshua Cooke, to whom, in an old hand on the title of edit. 1602 in the Museum, it is attributed.][PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.[1]] This play agrees perfectly with the description given of it in the title; it is certainly a most pleasant conceited comedy, rich in humour, and written altogether in a right merry vein. The humour is broad and strongly marked, and at the same time of the most diverting kind; the characters are excellent, and admirably discriminated; the comic parts of the play are written with most exquisite drollery, and the serious with great truth and feeling. Of the present piece there were seven editions, within a short period, with all of which the present reprint has been carefully collated, and is now, for the first time, divided into acts and scenes. PERSONS REPRESENTED. OLD MASTER ARTHUR. OLD MASTER LUSAM. YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. YOUNG MASTER LUSAM.[2] MASTER ANSELM. MASTER FULLER. SIR AMINADAB, a Schoolmaster. JUSTICE REASON. BRABO. HUGH, Justice Reason's Servant. PIPKIN, Master Arthur's Servant. Boys, Officers, &c. MISTRESS ARTHUR. MISTRESS MARY. MISTRESS SPLAY. MAID. Scene, London.A PLEASANT CONCEITED COMEDY; WHEREIN IS SHOWED HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. ACT I., SCENE I. The Exchange. Enter YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR and YOUNG MASTER LUSAM. Y. ART. I tell you true, sir; but to every man I would not be so lavish of my speech: Only to you, my dear and private friend, Although my wife in every eye be held Of beauty and of grace sufficient, Of honest birth and good behaviour, Able to win the strongest thoughts to her, Yet, in my mind, I hold her the most hated And loathed object, that the world can yield. Y. LUS. O Master Arthur, bear a better thought Of your chaste wife, whose modesty hath won The good opinion and report of all: By heaven! you wrong her beauty; she is fair. Y. ART. Not in mine eye. Y. LUS. O, you are cloy'd with dainties, Master Arthur, And too much sweetness glutted hath your taste, And makes you loathe them: at the first You did admire her beauty, prais'd her face, Were proud to have her follow at your heels Through the broad streets, when all censuring tongues Found themselves busied, as she pass'd along, T'extol her in the hearing of you both. Tell me, I pray you, and dissemble not, Have you not, in the time of your first-love, Hugg'd such new popular and vulgar talk, And gloried still to see her bravely deck'd? But now a kind of loathing hath quite chang'd Your shape of love into a form of hate; But on what reason ground you this hate? Y. ART. My reason is my mind, my ground my will; I will not love her: if you ask me why, I cannot love her. Let that answer you. Y. LUS. Be judge, all eyes, her face deserves it not; Then on what root grows this high branch of hate? Is she not loyal, constant, loving, chaste: Obedient, apt to please, loath to displease: Careful to live, chary of her good name, And jealous of your reputation? Is she not virtuous, wise, religious? How should you wrong her to deny all this? Good Master Arthur, let me argue with you. [They walk aside. Enter MASTER ANSELM and MASTER FULLER. FUL. O Master Anselm! grown a lover, fie! What might she be, on whom your hopes rely? ANS. What fools they are that seem most wise in love, How wise they are that are but fools in love! Before I was a lover, I had reasonTo judge of matters, censure of all sorts, Nay, I had wit to call a lover fool, And look into his folly with bright eyes. But now intruding love dwells in my brain, And franticly hath shoulder'd reason thence: I am not old, and yet, alas! I doat; I have not lost my sight, and yet am blind; No bondman, yet have lost my liberty; No natural fool, and yet I want my wit. What am I, then? let me define myself: A dotard young, a blind man that can see, A witty fool, a bondman that is free. FUL. Good aged youth, blind seer, and wise fool, Loose your free bonds, and set your thoughts to school. Enter OLD MASTER ARTHUR and OLD MASTER LUSAM. O. ART. 'Tis told me, Master Lusam, that my son And your chaste daughter, whom we match'd together, Wrangle and fall at odds, and brawl and chide. O. LUS. Nay, I think so, I never look'd for better: This 'tis to marry children when they're young. I said as much at first, that such young brats Would 'gree together e'en like dogs and cats. O. ART. Nay, pray you, Master Lusam, say not so; There was great hope, though they were match'd but young, Their virtues would have made them sympathise, And live together like two quiet saints. O. LUS. You say true, there was great hope, indeed, They would have liv'd like saints; but where's the fault? O. ART. If fame be true, the most fault's in my son. O. LUS. You say true, Master Arthur, 'tis so indeed. O. ART. Nay, sir, I do not altogether excuse Your daughter; many lay the blame on her. O. LUS. Ah! say you so? by the mass, 'tis like enough, For from her childhood she hath been a shrew. O. ART. A shrew? you wrong her; all the town admires her For mildness, chasteness, and humility. O. LUS. 'Fore God, you say well, she is so indeed; The city doth admire her for these virtues. O. ART. O, sir, you praise your child too palpably; She's mild and chaste, but not admir'd so much. O. LUS. Ay, so I say—I did not mean admir'd. O. ART. Yes, if a man do well consider her, Your daughter is the wonder of her sex. O. LUS. Are you advis'd of that? I cannot tell, What 'tis you call the wonder of her sex, But she is—is she?—ay, indeed, she is. O. ART. What is she? O. LUS. Even what you will—you know best what she is. ANS. Yon is her husband: let us leave this talk:[3] How full are bad thoughts of suspicion; I love, but loathe myself for loving so, Yet cannot change my disposition.FUL. Medice, cura teipsum. ANS. Hei mihi! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis. [Exeunt ANSELM and FULLER. Y. ART. All your persuasions are to no effect, Never allege her virtues nor her beauty, My settled unkindness hath begot A resolution to be unkind still, My ranging pleasures love variety. Y. LUS. O, too unkind unto so kind a wife, Too virtueless to one so virtuous, And too unchaste unto so chaste a matron. Y. ART. But soft, sir, see where my two fathers are Busily talking; let us shrink aside, For if they see me, they are bent to chide. [Exeunt Y. ARTHUR and Y. LUSAM. O. ART. I think 'tis best to go straight to the house, And make them friends again; what think ye, sir? O. LUS. I think so too. O. ART. Now I remember, too, that's not so good: For divers reasons, I think best stay here, And leave them to their wrangling—what think you? O. LUS. I think so too. O. ART. Nay, we will go, that's certain. O. LUS. Ay, 'tis best, 'tis best— In sooth, there's no way but to go. O. ART. Yet if our going should breed more unrest, More discord, more dissension, more debate, More wrangling where there is enough already? 'Twere better stay than go. O. LUS. 'Fore God, 'tis true; Our going may, perhaps, breed more debate, And then we may too late wish we had stay'd; And therefore, if you will be rul'd by me, We will not go, that's flat: nay, if we love Our credits or our quiets, let's not go. O. ART. But if we love Their credits or their quiets, we must go, And reconcile them to their former love; Where there is strife betwixt a man and wife 'tis hell, And mutual love may be compared to heaven, For then their souls and spirits are at peace. Come, Master Lusam, now 'tis dinner-time; When we have dined, the first work we will make, Is to decide their jars for pity's sake. O. LUS. Well fare a good heart! yet are you advis'd? Go, said you, Master Arthur? I will run To end these broils, that discord hath begun. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Young Arthur's House.Enter MISTRESS ARTHUR and PIPKIN. MRS ART. Come hither, Pipkin. How chance you tread so softly? PIP. For fear of breaking, mistress. MRS ART. Art thou afraid of breaking, how so? PIP. Can you blame me, mistress? I am crack'd already. MRS ART. Crack'd, Pipkin, how? hath any crack'd your crown? PIP. No, mistress; I thank God, My crown is current, but— MRS ART. But what? PIP. The maid gave me not my supper yesternight, so that indeed my belly wambled, and standing near the great sea- coal fire in the hall, and not being full, on the sudden I crack'd, and you know, mistress, a pipkin is soon broken. MRS ART. Sirrah, run to the Exchange, and if you there Can find my husband, pray him to come home; Tell him I will not eat a bit of bread Until I see him; prythee, Pipkin, run. PIP. By'r Lady, mistress, if I should te