The Works of Ben Jonson/Volume 6/A Tale of a Tub/Act I/Scene II
(Redirected from A Tale of a Tub (Jonson)/Act I/Scene II)
SCENE II.
Kentish Town.
A Room in Turfe's House.
Enter Clench, Medlay, D'oge Scriben, Ball
Puppy, and Pan.
Puppy, and Pan.
Clench. Why, it is thirty year, e'en as this day now,
Zin Valentine's day, of all days kursin'd,[1] look you;
And the zame day o' the month as this zin Valentine,
Or I am vowly deceived—
Zin Valentine's day, of all days kursin'd,[1] look you;
And the zame day o' the month as this zin Valentine,
Or I am vowly deceived—
Med. That our high constable,
Master Tobias Turfe, and his dame were married:
I think you are right. But what was that zin Valentine?
Did you ever know 'un, goodman Clench?
Master Tobias Turfe, and his dame were married:
I think you are right. But what was that zin Valentine?
Did you ever know 'un, goodman Clench?
Clench. Zin Valentine!
He was a deadly zin, and dwelt at Highgate,
As I have heard; but 'twas avore my time:
He was a cooper too, as you are, Medlay,
An In-and-In: a woundy brag young vellow,
As the 'port went o' hun then, and in those days.
He was a deadly zin, and dwelt at Highgate,
As I have heard; but 'twas avore my time:
He was a cooper too, as you are, Medlay,
An In-and-In: a woundy brag young vellow,
As the 'port went o' hun then, and in those days.
Scri. Did he not write his name Sim Valentine?
Vor I have met no Sin in Finsbury books;
And yet I have writ them six or seven times over.
Vor I have met no Sin in Finsbury books;
And yet I have writ them six or seven times over.
Pan. O you munlook for the nine deadly Sins,
In the church-books, D'oge; not [in] the high constable's;
Nor in the county's: zure, that same zin Valentine,
He was a stately zin, an' he were a zin,
And kept brave house.
In the church-books, D'oge; not [in] the high constable's;
Nor in the county's: zure, that same zin Valentine,
He was a stately zin, an' he were a zin,
And kept brave house.
Clench. At the Cock-and-Hen in Highgate.
You have fresh'd my memory well in't, neighbour Pan:
He had a place in last king Harry's time,
Of sorting all the young couples; joining them,
And putting them together; which is yet
Praform'd, as on his dayzin Valentine:
As being the zin of the shire, or the whole county:
I am old Rivet still, and bear a brain,
The Clench, the varrier, and true leach of Hamstead.
You have fresh'd my memory well in't, neighbour Pan:
He had a place in last king Harry's time,
Of sorting all the young couples; joining them,
And putting them together; which is yet
Praform'd, as on his dayzin Valentine:
As being the zin of the shire, or the whole county:
I am old Rivet still, and bear a brain,
The Clench, the varrier, and true leach of Hamstead.
Pan. You are a shrewd antiquity, neighbour Clench,
And a great guide to all the parishes!
The very bell-weather of the hundred, here,
As I may zay. Master Tobias Turfe,
High constable, would not miss you, for a score on us,
When he do 'scourse of the great charty to us.
And a great guide to all the parishes!
The very bell-weather of the hundred, here,
As I may zay. Master Tobias Turfe,
High constable, would not miss you, for a score on us,
When he do 'scourse of the great charty to us.
Pup. What's that, a horse? can 'scourse nought but a horse,[2]
And that in Smithveld. Charty! I ne'er read o' hun,
In the old Fabian's chronicles; nor I think
In any new: he may be a giant there,
For aught I know.
And that in Smithveld. Charty! I ne'er read o' hun,
In the old Fabian's chronicles; nor I think
In any new: he may be a giant there,
For aught I know.
Scri. You should do well to study
Records, fellow Ball, both law and poetry.
Records, fellow Ball, both law and poetry.
Pup. Why, all's but writing and reading, is it Scriben?
An it be any more, it is mere cheating zure,
Vlat cheating; all your law and poets too.
An it be any more, it is mere cheating zure,
Vlat cheating; all your law and poets too.
Pan. Master high constable comes.
Enter Turfe.
Pup. I'll zay't afore 'hun.
Turfe. What's that makes you all so merry and loud, sirs, ha?
I could have heard you to my privy walk.
I could have heard you to my privy walk.
Clench. A contrevarsie 'twixt two learned men here:
Hannibal Puppy says that law and poetry
Are both flat cheating; all's but writing and reading,
He says, be't verse or prose.
Hannibal Puppy says that law and poetry
Are both flat cheating; all's but writing and reading,
He says, be't verse or prose.
Turfe. 1 think in conzience,
He do zay true: who is't do thwart 'un, ha?
He do zay true: who is't do thwart 'un, ha?
Med. Why, my friend Scriben, an it please your worship.
Turfe. Who, D'oge, my D'ogenes? a great writer, marry!
He'll vace me down, [sirs.] me myself sometimes,
That verse goes upon veet, as ou and I do:
But I can gi' un the hearing; zit me down,
And laugh at 'un; and to myself conclude,
The greatest clerks are not the wisest men
Ever. Here they are both! what, sirs, disputing,
And holding arguments of verse and prose,
And no green thing afore the door, that shews,
Or speaks a wedding!
He'll vace me down, [sirs.] me myself sometimes,
That verse goes upon veet, as ou and I do:
But I can gi' un the hearing; zit me down,
And laugh at 'un; and to myself conclude,
The greatest clerks are not the wisest men
Ever. Here they are both! what, sirs, disputing,
And holding arguments of verse and prose,
And no green thing afore the door, that shews,
Or speaks a wedding!
Scri. Those were verses now,
Your worship spake, and run upon vive veet.
Your worship spake, and run upon vive veet.
Turfe. Feet, vrom my mouth, D'oge! leave your 'zurd upinions,
And get me in some boughs.
And get me in some boughs.
Scri. Let them have leaves first.
There's nothing green but bays and rosemary.
There's nothing green but bays and rosemary.
Pup. And they are too good for strewings, your maids say.
Turfe. You take up 'dority still to vouch against me.
All the twelve smocks in the house, zure, are your authors.
Get some fresh hay then, to lay under foot;
Some holly and ivy to make vine the posts:
Is't not zon Valentine's day, and mistress Awdrey,
[Exit Pappy.] Your young dame, to be married?
I wonder Clay
Should be so tedious; he's to play son Valentine:
And the clown sluggard is not come fro' Kilborn yet!
All the twelve smocks in the house, zure, are your authors.
Get some fresh hay then, to lay under foot;
Some holly and ivy to make vine the posts:
Is't not zon Valentine's day, and mistress Awdrey,
[Exit Pappy.] Your young dame, to be married?
I wonder Clay
Should be so tedious; he's to play son Valentine:
And the clown sluggard is not come fro' Kilborn yet!
Med. Do you call your son in law clown, an't please your worship?
Turfe. Yes and vor worship too, my neighbour Medlay,
A Middlesex clown, and one of Finsbury.
They were the first colons of the kingdom here,
The primitory colons, my Diogenes says,
Where's D'ogenes, my writer, now? What were those
You told me, D'ogenes, were the first colons
Of the country, that the Romans brought in here?
A Middlesex clown, and one of Finsbury.
They were the first colons of the kingdom here,
The primitory colons, my Diogenes says,
Where's D'ogenes, my writer, now? What were those
You told me, D'ogenes, were the first colons
Of the country, that the Romans brought in here?
Scri. The coloni, sir; colonus is an inhabitant,
A clown original: as you'd say, a farmer,
A tiller of the earth, e'er since the Romans
Planted their colony first; which was in Middlesex.
A clown original: as you'd say, a farmer,
A tiller of the earth, e'er since the Romans
Planted their colony first; which was in Middlesex.
Turfe. Why so! I thank you heartily, good Diogenes,
You ha' zertified me. I had rather be
An ancient colon, (as they say,) a clown of Middlesex,
A good rich farmer, or high constable.
I'd play hun 'gain a knight, or a good 'squire,
Or gentleman of any other county
In the kingdom.
You ha' zertified me. I had rather be
An ancient colon, (as they say,) a clown of Middlesex,
A good rich farmer, or high constable.
I'd play hun 'gain a knight, or a good 'squire,
Or gentleman of any other county
In the kingdom.
Pan. Outcept Kent, for there they landed
All gentlemen, and came in with the conqueror,
Mad Julius Cæsar, who built Dover-castle:
My ancestor To-Pan, beat the first kettle-drum
Avore 'hun, here vrom Dover on the march.
Which piece of monumental copper hangs
Up, scour'd, at Hammersmith yet; for there they came
Over the Thames, at a low water-mark;
Vore either London, ay, or Kingston-bridge,
I doubt, were kursin'd.
All gentlemen, and came in with the conqueror,
Mad Julius Cæsar, who built Dover-castle:
My ancestor To-Pan, beat the first kettle-drum
Avore 'hun, here vrom Dover on the march.
Which piece of monumental copper hangs
Up, scour'd, at Hammersmith yet; for there they came
Over the Thames, at a low water-mark;
Vore either London, ay, or Kingston-bridge,
I doubt, were kursin'd.
Re-enter Puppy with John Clay.
Turfe. Zee, who is here: John Clay!
Zon Valentine, and bridegroom! have you zeen
Your Valentine-bride yet, sin' you came, John Clay?
Zon Valentine, and bridegroom! have you zeen
Your Valentine-bride yet, sin' you came, John Clay?
Clay. No, wusse. Che lighted I but now in the yard,
Puppy has scarce unswaddled my legs yet.
Puppy has scarce unswaddled my legs yet.
Turfe. What, wisps on your wedding-day, zon! this is right
Originous Clay, and Clay o' Kilborn too!
I would ha' had boots on this day, zure, zon John.
Originous Clay, and Clay o' Kilborn too!
I would ha' had boots on this day, zure, zon John.
Clay. I did it to save charges: we mun dance,
On this day, zure; and who can dance in boots?
No, I got on my best straw-colour'd stockings,
And swaddled them over to zave charges, I.
On this day, zure; and who can dance in boots?
No, I got on my best straw-colour'd stockings,
And swaddled them over to zave charges, I.
Turfe. And his new chamois doublet too with points!
I like that yet: and his long sausage-hose,
Like the commander of four smoaking tile-kilns,
Which he is captain of, captain of Kilborn;
Clay with his hat turn'd up o' the leer side too,[3]
As if he would leap my daughter yet ere night,
And spring a new Turfe to the old house!—
I like that yet: and his long sausage-hose,
Like the commander of four smoaking tile-kilns,
Which he is captain of, captain of Kilborn;
Clay with his hat turn'd up o' the leer side too,[3]
As if he would leap my daughter yet ere night,
And spring a new Turfe to the old house!—
Enter Joice, Joan, and the other Maids, with ribands,
rosemary, and bay for the bride-men.
rosemary, and bay for the bride-men.
Look! an the wenches ha' not found 'un out,
And do parzent 'un with a van of rosemary,
And bays, to villa bow-pot, trim the head
Of my best vore-horse! We shall all ha' bride-laces,
Or points, I zee; my daughter will be valiant,
And prove a very Mary Ambry in the business.[4]
And do parzent 'un with a van of rosemary,
And bays, to villa bow-pot, trim the head
Of my best vore-horse! We shall all ha' bride-laces,
Or points, I zee; my daughter will be valiant,
And prove a very Mary Ambry in the business.[4]
Clench. They zaid your worship had 'sured her to 'squire Tub
Of Totten-Court here; all the hundred rings on't.
Of Totten-Court here; all the hundred rings on't.
Turfe. A Tale of a Tub, sir, a mere Tale of a Tub.
Lend it no ear, I pray you: the 'squire Tub
Is a fine man, but he is too fine a man,
And has a lady Tub too to his mother;
I'll deal with none of these fine silken Tubs:
John Clay and cloth-breech for my money and daughter.[5]
Here comes another old boy too vor his colours,
Lend it no ear, I pray you: the 'squire Tub
Is a fine man, but he is too fine a man,
And has a lady Tub too to his mother;
I'll deal with none of these fine silken Tubs:
John Clay and cloth-breech for my money and daughter.[5]
Here comes another old boy too vor his colours,
Enter Rosin, and his two Boys.
Will stroak down my wives udder of purses, empty
Of all her milk-money this winter quarter:
Old father Rosin, the chief minstrel here,
Chief minstrel too of Highgate, she has hired him
And all his two boys for a day and a half;
And now they come for ribanding and rosemary:
Give them enough, girls, give them enough, and take it
Out in his tunes anon.
Of all her milk-money this winter quarter:
Old father Rosin, the chief minstrel here,
Chief minstrel too of Highgate, she has hired him
And all his two boys for a day and a half;
And now they come for ribanding and rosemary:
Give them enough, girls, give them enough, and take it
Out in his tunes anon.
Clench. I'll have Tom Tiler,
For our John Clay's sake, and the tile-kilns, zure.
For our John Clay's sake, and the tile-kilns, zure.
Med. And I the Jolly Joiner for mine own sake.
Pan. I'll have the Jovial Tinker for To-Pan's sake.
Turfe. We'll all be jovy this day vor son Valentine,
My sweet son John's sake.
My sweet son John's sake.
Scri. There's another reading now:
My master reads it Son and not Sin Valentine.
My master reads it Son and not Sin Valentine.
Pup. Nor Zim: and he's in the right; he is high-constable,
And who should read above 'un, or avore 'hun?
And who should read above 'un, or avore 'hun?
Turfe. Son John shall bid us welcome all, this day;
We'll zerve under his colours: lead the troop, John,
And Puppy, see the bells ring. Press all noises[6]
Of Finsbury, in our name: Diogenes Scriben
Shall draw a score of warrants vor the business.
Does any wight perzent hir majesty's person,
This hundred, 'bove the high constable?
We'll zerve under his colours: lead the troop, John,
And Puppy, see the bells ring. Press all noises[6]
Of Finsbury, in our name: Diogenes Scriben
Shall draw a score of warrants vor the business.
Does any wight perzent hir majesty's person,
This hundred, 'bove the high constable?
All. No, no.
Turfe. Use our authority then to the utmost on't.
[Exeunt.
[Exeunt.
- ↑ Of all days kursin'd,] i. e. christen'd. Whal. Thus Fletcher:"Are they kursin'd?
No, they call them infidels."The Coxcomb. - ↑ Whalley follows the old copy, which reads,
———Can 'scourse nought but a horse;
I ne'er read o' hun, and that in Smithveld charty;
In the old Fabian," &c.The present arrangement restores the passage to sense, and is not far perhaps from that of the author. - ↑ With his hat turn'd up, o' the leer side.] i.e, the left, or leeward side.
- ↑ A very Mary Ambry.] See vol. iii. p. 433.
- ↑ John Clay and cloth-breech for my money.] The allusion is to the Quip for an Upstart Courtier, a humourous tract by Greene. The contending parties in the Dialogue are Velvet-breeches and Cloth-breeches, the representatives of the court and country. The superiority throughout is adroitly given to the latter.
- ↑ Press all noises.] See vol. iii. p. 402.