A street in front of Yellowhammer's shop.
Enter Maudlin and Moll, a shop being discovered.
MAUDLIN.
Have you played over all your old lessons o' the virginals[Note_1]?
MOLL.
Yes.
MAUDLIN.
Yes, you are a dull maid alate, methinks you had need have somewhat to quicken your green sickness; do you weep? A husband. Had not such a piece of flesh been ordained, what had us wives been good for? To make salads, or else cried up and down for samphire. To see the difference of these seasons! When I was of your youth, I was lightsome, and quick, two years before I was married. You fit for a knight's bed—drowsy-browed, dull-eyed, drossy-spirited! I hold my life you have forgot your dancing: when was the dancer with you?
MOLL.
The last week.
MAUDLIN.
Last week? When I was of your bord,
He missed me not a night, I was kept at it;
I took delight to learn, and he to teach me,
Pretty brown gentleman, he took pleasure in my company;
But you are dull, nothing comes nimbly from you,
You dance like a plumber's daughter, and deserve
Two thousand pounds in lead to your marriage,
And not in goldsmith's ware.
Enter Yellowhammer.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Now what's the din
Betwixt mother and daughter, ha?
MAUDLIN.
Faith, small,
Telling your daughter Mary of her errors.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Errors! Nay, the city cannot hold you, wife,
But you must needs fetch words from Westminster;
I ha' done, i'faith.
Has no attorney's clerk been here alate
And changed his half-crown-piece his mother sent him,
Or rather cozened you with a gilded twopence,
To bring the word in fashion for her faults
Or cracks in duty and obedience,
Term 'em e'en so, sweet wife?
As there is no woman made without a flaw,
Your purest lawns have frays, and cambrics bracks.
MAUDLIN.
But 'tis a husband solders up all cracks.
MOLL.
What is he come, sir?
YELLOWHAMMER.
Sir Walter's come.
He was met at Holborn Bridge, and in his company
A proper fair young gentlewoman, which I guess
By her red hair, and other rank descriptions,
To be his landed niece brought out of Wales,
Which Tim our son (the Cambridge boy) must marry.
'Tis a match of Sir Walter's own making
To bind us to him, and our heirs for ever.
MAUDLIN.
We are honoured then, if this baggage would be humble,
And kiss him with devotion when he enters.
I cannot get her for my life
To instruct her hand thus, before and after,
Which a knight will look for, before and after.
I have told her still, 'tis the waving of a woman
Does often move a man, and prevails strongly.
But sweet, ha' you sent to Cambridge,
Has Tim word on't?
YELLOWHAMMER.
Had word just the day after when you sent him
The silver spoon to eat his broth in the hall,
Amongst the gentlemen commoners.
MAUDLIN.
O, 'twas timely.
Enter Porter.
YELLOWHAMMER.
How now?
PORTER.
A letter from a gentleman in Cambridge.
YELLOWHAMMER.
O, one of Hobson's porters, thou art welcome.
I told thee, Maud, we should hear from Tim.
Reads letter.
Amantissimis charissimisque ambobus parentibus patri et matri.
MAUDLIN.
What's the matter?
YELLOWHAMMER.
Nay, by my troth, I know not, ask not me,
He's grown too verbal; this learning is a great witch.
MAUDLIN.
Pray, let me see it, I was wont to understand him.
Reads.
Amantissimus charissimus, he has sent the carrier's man, he says; ambobus parentibus, for a pair of boots; patri et matri, pay the porter, or it makes no matter.
PORTER.
Yes, by my faith, mistress, there's no true construction in that, I have took a great deal of pains, and come from the Bell sweating. Let me come to't, for I was a scholar forty years ago; 'tis thus, I warrant you:
Reads.
Matri, it makes no matter: ambobus parentibus, for a pair of boots; patri, pay the porter; amantissimis charissimis, he's the carrier's man, and his name is Sims, and there he says true, forsooth, my name is Sims indeed; I have not forgot all my learning. A money matter, I thought I should hit on't.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Go, thou art an old fox, there's a tester for thee.
PORTER.
If I see your worship at Goose Fair, I have a dish of birds for you.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Why, dost dwell at Bow?
PORTER.
All my lifetime, sir; I could ever say "Bo" to a goose. Farewell to your worship.
Exit Porter.
YELLOWHAMMER.
A merry porter.
MAUDLIN.
How can he choose but be so, coming with Cambridge letters from our son Tim?
YELLOWHAMMER.
What's here?
Reads.
Maximus diligo. Faith, I must to my learned counsel with this gear, 'twill ne'er be discerned else.
MAUDLIN.
Go to my cousin then, at Inns of Court.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Fie, they are all for French, they speak no Latin.
MAUDLIN.
The parson then will do it.
Enter a Gentleman with a chain.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Nay, he disclaims it,
Calls Latin Papistry, he will not deal with it.
What is't you lack, gentleman?
GENTLEMAN.
Pray, weigh this chain.
Gives chain, which Yellowhammer weighs.
Enter Sir Walter Whorehound, Welsh Gentlewoman and Davy Dahumma.
SIR WALTER.
Now, wench, thou art welcome to the heart of the city of London.
WELSH GENTLEWOMAN.
Dugat a whee.
SIR WALTER.
You can thank me in English if you list.
WELSH GENTLEWOMAN.
I can, sir, simply.
SIR WALTER.
'Twill serve to pass, wench;
“Twas strange that I should lie with thee so often,
To leave thee without English: that were unnatural.
I bring thee up to turn thee into gold, wench,
And make thy fortune shine like your bright trade.
A goldsmith's shop sets out a city maid.
Davy Dahumma, not a word.
DAVY.
Mum, mum, sir.
SIR WALTER.
Here you must pass for a pure virgin.
DAVY.
Aside.
Pure Welsh virgin, she lost her maidenhead in Brecknockshire.
SIR WALTER.
I hear you mumble, Davy.
DAVY.
I have teeth, sir, I need not mumble yet this forty years.
SIR WALTER.
The knave bites plaguily.
YELLOWHAMMER.
What's your price, sir?
GENTLEMAN.
A hundred pound, sir.
YELLOWHAMMER.
A hundred marks the utmost, 'tis not for me else.
Exit Gentleman.
What, Sir Walter Whorehound?
MOLL.
O death!
Exit Moll.
MAUDLIN.
Why, daughter; faith, the baggage,
A bashful girl, sir; these young things are shamefast.
Besides, you have a presence, sweet Sir Walter,
Able to daunt a maid brought up i' the city;
Enter Moll.
A brave court spirit makes our virgins quiver,
And kiss with trembling thighs. Yet see, she comes, sir.
SIR WALTER.
Why, how now, pretty mistress, now I have caught you.
What, can you injure so your time to stray
Thus from your faithful servant?
YELLOWHAMMER.
Pish, stop your words, good knight, 'twill make her blush else,
Which wound too high for the daughters of the freedom.
"Honour," and "faithful servant," they are compliments
For the worthies of Whitehall, or Greenwich.
E'en plain, sufficient subsidy words serves us, sir.
And is this gentlewoman your worthy niece?
SIR WALTER.
You may be bold with her on these terms, 'tis she, sir,
Heir to some nineteen mountains.
YELLOWHAMMER.
Bless us all, you overwhelm me, sir, with love and riches.
SIR WALTER.
And all as high as Paul's.
DAVY.
Here's work, i'faith.
SIR WALTER.
How sayst thou, Davy?
DAVY.
Higher, sir, by far: you cannot see the top of 'em.
YELLOWHAMMER.
What, man?
Maudlin, salute this gentlewoman, our daughter
If things hit right.
Enter Touchwood Junior.
TOUCHWOOD JUNIOR.
Aside.
My knight with a brace of footmen
Is come and brought up his ewe mutton
To find a ram at London; I must hasten it,
Or else pick a' famine; her blood's mine,
And that's the surest. Well, knight, that choice spoil
Is only kept for me.
MOLL.
Aside to Touchwood Junior.
Sir?
TOUCHWOOD JUNIOR.
To Moll, hands her note.
Turn not to me till thou mayst lawfully,
It but whets my stomach, which is too sharp
Set already. Read that note carefully,
Keep me from suspicion still, nor know
My zeal but in thy heart:
Read and send but thy liking in three words,
I'll be at hand to take it.
END OF SAMPLE
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Published by Les Éditions de Londres
©2016 – Les Éditions de Londres
ISBN: 978-1-910628-80-5