The Knight of the Burning Pestle/Act II

Enter Venturewell and Humphrey.

Vent.
 * And how, faith, how goes it now, son Humphrey?

Hum.
 * Right worshipful, and my belovèd friend
 * And father dear, this matter’s at an end.

Vent.
 * ’Tis well: it should be so: I’m glad the girl
 * Is found so tractable.

Hum.
 * Nay, she must whirl
 * From hence (and you must wink; for so, I say,
 * The story tells,) to-morrow before day. [Wife . George, dost thou think in thy conscience now ’twill be a match? tell me but what thou thinkest, sweet rogue. Thou seest the poor gentleman, dear heart, how it labours and throbs, I warrant you, to be at rest! I’ll go move the father for’t.

Cit.
 * No, no; I prithee, sit still, honeysuckle; thou’lt spoil all. If he deny him, I’ll bring half-a-dozen good fellows myself, and in the shutting of an evening, knock’t up, and there’s an end.

Wife.
 * I’ll buss thee for that, i’faith, boy. Well, George, well, you have been a wag in your days, I warrant you; but God forgive you, and I do with all my heart.]

Vent.
 * How was it, son? you told me that to-morrow
 * Before day-break, you must convey her hence.

Hum.
 * I must, I must; and thus it is agreed:
 * Your daughter rides upon a brown-bay steed,
 * I on a sorrel, which I bought of Brian,
 * The honest host of the Red roaring Lion,
 * In Waltham situate. Then, if you may,
 * Consent in seemly sort; lest, by delay,
 * The Fatal Sisters come, and do the office,
 * And then you’ll sing another song.

Vent.
 * Alas,
 * Why should you be thus full of grief to me,
 * That do as willing as yourself agree
 * To any thing, so it be good and fair?
 * Then, steal her when you will, if such a pleasure
 * Content you both; I’ll sleep and never see it,
 * To make your joys more full. But tell me why
 * You may not here perform your marriage?

Wife.
 * God’s blessing o’ thy soul, old man! i’faith, thou art loath to part true hearts. I see ’a has her, George; and I’m as glad on’t!—Well, go thy ways, Humphrey, for a fair-spoken man; I believe thou hast not thy fellow within the walls of London; an I should say the suburbs too, I should not lie.—Why dost not rejoice with me, George?

Cit.
 * If I could but see Ralph again, I were as merry as mine host, i’faith.

Hum.
 * The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare—Help
 * me, O Muses nine! Your daughter sware
 * A foolish oath, and more it was the pity;
 * Yet no one but myself within this city
 * Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance
 * Shall meet him, were he of the noble science;
 * And yet she sware, and yet why did she sware?
 * Truly, I cannot tell, unless it were
 * For her own ease; for, sure, sometimes an oath,
 * Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth;
 * And this it was she swore, never to marry
 * But such a one whose mighty arm could carry
 * (As meaning me, for I am such a one)
 * Her bodily away, through stick and stone,
 * Till both of us arrive, at her request,
 * Some ten miles off, in the wild Waltham forest.

Vent.
 * If this be all, you shall not need to fear
 * Any denial in your love: proceed;
 * I’ll neither follow, nor repent the deed.

Hum.
 * Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more,
 * And twenty more good nights,—that makes three-score!


 * [Exeunt severally.

Enter Mistress Merrythought and Michael.

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Come, Michael; art thou not weary, boy?

Mich.
 * No, forsooth, mother, not I.

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Where be we now, child?

Mich.
 * Indeed, forsooth, mother, I cannot tell, unless we be at Mile-End: Is not all the world Mile-End, mother?

''Mist. Mer.''
 * No, Michael, not all the world, boy; but I can assure thee, Michael, Mile End is a goodly matter: there has been a pitchfield, my child, between the naughty Spaniels and the Englishmen; and the Spaniels ran away, Michael, and the Englishmen followed: my neighbour Coxstone was there, boy, and killed them all with a birding-piece.

Mich.
 * Mother, forsooth——

''Mist. Mer.''
 * What says my white boy?

Mich.
 * Shall not my father go with us too?

''Mist. Mer.''
 * No, Michael, let thy father go snick - up; he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again while he lives; let him stay at home, and sing for his supper, boy. Come, child, sit down, and I’ll show my boy fine knacks, indeed. [They sit down: and she takes out a casket .] Look here, Michael; here’s a ring, and here’s a brooch, and here’s a bracelet, and here’s two rings more, and here’s money and gold by th’eye, my boy.

Mich.
 * Shall I have all this, mother?

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Ay, Michael, thou shalt have all, Michael.

Cit.
 * How likest thou this, wench?

Wife.
 * I cannot tell; I would have Ralph, George; I’ll see no more else, indeed, la; and I pray you, let the youths understand so much by word of mouth; for, I tell you truly, I’m afraid o’ my boy. Come, come, George, let’s be merry and wise: the child’s a fatherless child; and say they should put him into a strait pair of gaskins, ’twere worse than knot-grass; he would never grow after it.]


 * Enter Ralph, Tim, and George.

Cit.
 * Here’s Ralph, here’s Ralph!

Wife.
 * How do you do, Ralph? you are welcome, Ralph, as I may say; it’s a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid; we are thy friends, Ralph; the gentlemen will praise thee, Ralph, if thou playest thy part with audacity. Begin, Ralph, a’ God’s name!]

Ralph.
 * My trusty squire, unlace my helm: give me my hat. Where are we, or what desert may this be?

George.
 * Mirror of knighthood, this is, as I take it, the perilous Waltham-down; in whose bottom stands the enchanted valley.

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Oh, Michael, we are betrayed, we are betrayed! here be giants! Fly, boy! fly, boy, fly!


 * [Exit with Michael leaving the casket.

Ralph.
 * Lace on my helm again. What noise is this?
 * A gentle lady, flying the embrace
 * Of some uncourteous knight! I will relieve her.
 * Go, squire, and say, the Knight, that wears this Pestle
 * In honour of all ladies, swears revenge
 * Upon that recreant coward that pursues her;
 * Go, comfort her, and that same gentle squire
 * That bears her company.

Tim.
 * I go, brave knight.


 * [Exit.

Ralph.
 * My trusty dwarf and friend, reach me my shield;
 * And hold it while I swear. First, by my knighthood;
 * Then by the soul of Amadis de Gaul,
 * My famous ancestor; then by my sword
 * The beauteous Brionella girt about me;
 * By this bright burning Pestle, of mine honour
 * The living trophy; and by all respect
 * Due to distressèd damsels; here I vow
 * Never to end the quest of this fair lady
 * And that forsaken squire till by my valour
 * I gain their liberty!

George.
 * Heaven bless the knight
 * That thus relieves poor errant gentlewomen!


 * [Exeunt.

Wife.
 * Ay, marry, Ralph, this has some savour in’t; I would see the proudest of them all offer to carry his books after him. But, George, I will not have him go away so soon; I shall be sick if he go away, that I shall: call Ralph again, George, call Ralph again; I prithee, sweetheart, let him come fight before me, and let’s ha’ some drums and some trumpets, and let him kill all that comes near him, an thou lovest me, George!

Cit.
 * Peace a little, bird: he shall kill them all, an they were twenty more on ’em than there are.


 * Enter Jasper.

Jasp.
 * Now, Fortune, if thou be’st not only ill,
 * Show me thy better face, and bring about
 * Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length,
 * And stand. This is our place of meeting,
 * If love have any constancy. Oh, age,
 * Where only wealthy men are counted happy!
 * How shall I please thee, how deserve thy smiles,
 * When I am only rich in misery?
 * My father’s blessing and this little coin
 * Is my inheritance; a strong revénue!
 * From earth thou art, and to the earth I give thee:


 * [Throws away the money.


 * There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air
 * Breeds me a fresher fortune.—How! illusion?


 * [Sees the casket


 * What, hath the devil coined himself before me?
 * ’Tis metal good, it rings well; I am waking,
 * And taking too, I hope. Now, God’s dear blessing
 * Upon his heart that left it here! ’tis mine;
 * These pearls, I take it, were not left for swine.


 * [Exit with the casket.

Wife.
 * I do not like that this unthrifty youth should embezzle away the money; the poor gentlewoman his mother will have a heavy heart for it, God knows.

Cit.
 * And reason good, sweetheart.

Wife.
 * But let him go; I’ll tell Ralph a tale in’s ear shall fetch him again with a wanion, I warrant him, if he be above ground; and besides, George, here are a number of sufficient gentlemen can witness, and myself, and yourself, and the musicians, if we be called in question.

Enter Ralph and George.

Ralph.
 * Comes not sir squire again?

George.
 * Right courteous knight,
 * Your squire doth come, and with him comes the lady,
 * For and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it.

Enter Tim, Mistress Merrythought, and Michael.

Ralph.
 * Madam, if any service or devoir
 * Of a poor errant knight may right your wrongs,
 * Command it; I am prest to give you succour;
 * For to that holy end I bear my armour.

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Alas, sir, I am a poor gentlewoman, and I have lost my money in this forest!

Ralph.
 * Desert, you would say, lady; and not lost
 * Whilst I have sword and lance. Dry up your tears,
 * Which ill befit the beauty of that face,
 * And tell the story, if I may request it,
 * Of your disastrous fortune.

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Out, alas! I left a thousand pound, a thousand pound, e’en all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon the sight of your mastership; you looked so grim, and, as I may say it, saving your presence, more like a giant than a mortal man.

Ralph.
 * I am as you are, lady; so are they;
 * All mortal. But why weeps this gentle squire?

''Mist. Mer.''
 * Has he not cause to weep, do you think, when he hath lost his inheritance?

Ralph.
 * Young hope of valour, weep not; I am here
 * That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear
 * Upon his coward head, that dares deny
 * Distressèd squires and ladies equity.
 * I have but one horse, on which shall ride
 * This fair lady behind me, and before
 * This courteous squire: fortune will give us more
 * Upon our next adventure. Fairly speed
 * Beside us, squire and dwarf, to do us need!


 * [Exeunt.

Cit.
 * Did not I tell you, Nell, what your man would do? by the faith of my body, wench, for clean action and good delivery, they may all cast their caps at him.

Wife.
 * And so they may, i’faith; for I dare speak it boldly, the twelve companies of London cannot match him, timber for timber. Well, George, an he be not inveigled by some of these paltry players, I ha’ much marvel: but, George, we ha’ done our parts, if the boy have any grace to be thankful.

Cit.
 * Yes, I warrant thee, duckling.

Enter Humphrey and Luce.

Hum.
 * Good Mistress Luce, however I in fault am
 * For your lame horse, you’re welcome unto Waltham;
 * But which way now to go, or what to say,
 * I know not truly, till it be broad day.

Luce.
 * Oh, fear not, Master Humphrey; I am guide
 * For this place good enough.

Hum.
 * Then, up and ride;
 * Or, if it please you, walk, for your repose,
 * Or sit, or, if you will, go pluck a rose;
 * Either of which shall be indifferent
 * To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent
 * Is so entangled ever to your will,
 * As the poor harmless horse is to the mill.

Luce.
 * Faith, an you say the word, we’ll e’en sit down,
 * And take a nap.

Hum.
 * ’Tis better in the town,
 * Where we may nap together; for, believe me,
 * To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me.