The Works of Ben Jonson/Volume 6/A Tale of a Tub/Act III/Scene V
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SCENE V.
Kentish Town.
Before Turfe's House.
Enter Turfe, dame Turfe, lady Tub, Pol Martin,
Awdrey, and Puppy.
Awdrey, and Puppy.
Turfe. Well, madam, I may thank the 'squire your son;
For, but for him, I had been over-reach'd.
For, but for him, I had been over-reach'd.
Dame T. Now heaven's blessing light upon his heart!
We are beholden to him, indeed, madam.
We are beholden to him, indeed, madam.
Lady T. But can you not resolve me where he is,
Nor about what his purposes were bent?
Nor about what his purposes were bent?
Turfe. Madam, they no whit were concerning me,
And therefore was I less inquisitive.
And therefore was I less inquisitive.
Lady T. Fair maid, in faith, speak truth, and not dissemble:
Does he not often come and visit you?
Does he not often come and visit you?
Aud. His worship now and then, please you, takes pains
To see my father and mother; but, for me,
I know myself too mean for his high thoughts
To stoop at, more than asking a light question,
To make him merry, or to pass his time.
To see my father and mother; but, for me,
I know myself too mean for his high thoughts
To stoop at, more than asking a light question,
To make him merry, or to pass his time.
Lady T. A sober maid! call for my woman, Martin.
Pol. The maids and her half-valentine have plied her
With courtesy of the bride-cake and the bowl,
As she is laid awhile.
With courtesy of the bride-cake and the bowl,
As she is laid awhile.
Lady T. O let her rest.
We will cross o'er to Canbury in the interim,[1]
And so make home. Farewell, good Turfe, and thy wife ;
[Exeunt Lady T. and Pol. I wish your daughter joy.
We will cross o'er to Canbury in the interim,[1]
And so make home. Farewell, good Turfe, and thy wife ;
[Exeunt Lady T. and Pol. I wish your daughter joy.
Turfe. Thanks to your ladyship.
Where is John Clay now, have you seen him yet?
Where is John Clay now, have you seen him yet?
Dame T. No, he has hid himself out of the way,
For fear of the hue and cry.
For fear of the hue and cry.
Turfe. What, walks that shadow
Avore 'un still ? Puppy, go seek 'un out,
Search all the corners that he haunts unto,
And call 'un forth. We'll once more to the church,
And try our vortunes : luck, son Valentine!
Where are the wise men all of Finsbury?
Avore 'un still ? Puppy, go seek 'un out,
Search all the corners that he haunts unto,
And call 'un forth. We'll once more to the church,
And try our vortunes : luck, son Valentine!
Where are the wise men all of Finsbury?
Pup. Where wise men should be ; at the ale and bride-cake.
I would this couple had their destiny,
Or to be hang'd, or married out o' the way :
Enter Clench, Medlay, Scriben, &c.
Man cannot get the mount'nance of an egg-shell
To stay his stomach. Vaith, for mine own part,
I have zupp'd up so much broth as would have cover'd
A leg o' beef o'er head and ears in the porridge-pot,
And yet I cannot sussifie wild nature.
Would they were once dispatch'd, we might to dinner.
I am with child of a huge stomach, and long,
Till by some honest midwife-piece of beef
I be deliver'd of it: I must go now.
And hunt out for this Kilborn calf, John Clay,
[Exit.Whom where to find, I know not, nor which way.
I would this couple had their destiny,
Or to be hang'd, or married out o' the way :
Enter Clench, Medlay, Scriben, &c.
Man cannot get the mount'nance of an egg-shell
To stay his stomach. Vaith, for mine own part,
I have zupp'd up so much broth as would have cover'd
A leg o' beef o'er head and ears in the porridge-pot,
And yet I cannot sussifie wild nature.
Would they were once dispatch'd, we might to dinner.
I am with child of a huge stomach, and long,
Till by some honest midwife-piece of beef
I be deliver'd of it: I must go now.
And hunt out for this Kilborn calf, John Clay,
[Exit.Whom where to find, I know not, nor which way.
Enter sir Hugh, disguised as a captain.
Hugh. Thus as a beggar in a king's disguise,
Or an old cross well sided with a may-pole,
Comes canon Hugh accoutred as you see,
Disguised, soldado-like. Mark his device:
The canon is that captain Thums was robb'd,
These bloody scars upon my face are wounds,
This scarf upon mine arm shews my late hurts,
And thus am I to gull the constable.
[Aside.Now have among you for a man at arms!
Friends, by your leave, which of you is one Turfe?
Or an old cross well sided with a may-pole,
Comes canon Hugh accoutred as you see,
Disguised, soldado-like. Mark his device:
The canon is that captain Thums was robb'd,
These bloody scars upon my face are wounds,
This scarf upon mine arm shews my late hurts,
And thus am I to gull the constable.
[Aside.Now have among you for a man at arms!
Friends, by your leave, which of you is one Turfe?
Turfe. Sir, I am Turfe, if you would speak with me.
Hugh. With thee, Turfe, if thou be'st high constable.
Turfe. I am both Turfe, sir, and high constable.
Hugh. Then, Turfe or Scurfe, high or low constable,
Know, I was once a captain at St. Quintin's,
And passing cross the ways over the country,
This morning, betwixt this and Hamstead-heath,
Was by a crew of clowns robb'd, bobb'd, and hurt.
No sooner had I got my wounds bound up,
But with much pain I went to the next justice,
One master Bramble, here at Maribone:
And here a warrant is, which he hath directed
For you, one Turfe, if your name be Toby Turfe,
Who have let fall, they say, the hue and cry;
And you shall answer it afore the justice.
Know, I was once a captain at St. Quintin's,
And passing cross the ways over the country,
This morning, betwixt this and Hamstead-heath,
Was by a crew of clowns robb'd, bobb'd, and hurt.
No sooner had I got my wounds bound up,
But with much pain I went to the next justice,
One master Bramble, here at Maribone:
And here a warrant is, which he hath directed
For you, one Turfe, if your name be Toby Turfe,
Who have let fall, they say, the hue and cry;
And you shall answer it afore the justice.
Turfe. Heaven and hell, dogs and devils, what is this!
Neighbours, was ever constable thus cross'd?
What shall we do?
Neighbours, was ever constable thus cross'd?
What shall we do?
Med. Faith, all go hang ourselves;
I know no other way to scape the law.
I know no other way to scape the law.
Re-enter Puppy.
Pup. News, news, O news———
Turfe. What, hast thou found out Clay?
Pup. No, sir, the news is, that I cannot find him.
Hugh. Why do you dally, you damn'd russet-coat?
You peasant, nay, you clown, you constable!
See that you bring forth the suspected party,
Or by mine honour, which I won in field,
I'll make you pay for it afore the justice.
You peasant, nay, you clown, you constable!
See that you bring forth the suspected party,
Or by mine honour, which I won in field,
I'll make you pay for it afore the justice.
Turfe. Fie, fie! O wife, I'm now in a fine pickle.
He that was most suspected is not found;
And which now makes me think he did the deed,
He thus absents him, and dares not be seen.
Captain, my innocence will plead for me.
Wife, I must go, needs, whom the devil drives:
Pray for me, wife and daughter, pray for me.
He that was most suspected is not found;
And which now makes me think he did the deed,
He thus absents him, and dares not be seen.
Captain, my innocence will plead for me.
Wife, I must go, needs, whom the devil drives:
Pray for me, wife and daughter, pray for me.
Hugh. I'll lead the way—thus is the match put off,—
And if my plot succeed, as I have laid it,
My captainship shall cost him many a crown.
[Aside. Exeunt all but Dame T. Awd. and Puppy.
And if my plot succeed, as I have laid it,
My captainship shall cost him many a crown.
[Aside. Exeunt all but Dame T. Awd. and Puppy.
Dame T.. So, we have brought our eggs to a fair market.
Out on that villain Clay! would he do a robbery?
I'll ne'er trust smooth-faced tileman for his sake.
Out on that villain Clay! would he do a robbery?
I'll ne'er trust smooth-faced tileman for his sake.
Awd. Mother, the still sow eats up all the draff.
[Exeunt Dame T. and Awd.
[Exeunt Dame T. and Awd.
Pup. Thus is my master, Toby Turfe, the pattern
Of all the painful adventures now in print!
I never could hope better of this match,
This bride-ale; for the night before to-day,
(Which is within man's memory, I take it,)
At the report of it an ox did speak,
Who died soon after; a cow lost her calf;
The bell-weather was flay'd for it; a fat hog
Was singed, and wash'd, and shaven all over, to
Look ugly 'gainst this day: the ducks they quack'd,
The hens too cackled; at the noise whereof
A drake was seen to dance a headless round;
The goose was cut in the head to hear it too:
Brave chant-it-clear, his noble heart was done,
His comb was cut; and two or three of his wives,
Or fairest concubines, had their necks broke
Ere they would zee this day: to mark the verven
Heart of a beast! the very pig, the pig
This very morning, as he was a roasting,
Cried out his eyes, and made a shew, as he would
Have bit in two the spit; as he would say,
There shall no roast-meat be this dismal day.
And zure, I think, if I had not got his tongue
Between my teeth and eat it, he had spoke it.
Well, I will in and cry too; never leave
Crying until our maids may drive a buck
[Exit.With my salt tears at the next washing-day.
Of all the painful adventures now in print!
I never could hope better of this match,
This bride-ale; for the night before to-day,
(Which is within man's memory, I take it,)
At the report of it an ox did speak,
Who died soon after; a cow lost her calf;
The bell-weather was flay'd for it; a fat hog
Was singed, and wash'd, and shaven all over, to
Look ugly 'gainst this day: the ducks they quack'd,
The hens too cackled; at the noise whereof
A drake was seen to dance a headless round;
The goose was cut in the head to hear it too:
Brave chant-it-clear, his noble heart was done,
His comb was cut; and two or three of his wives,
Or fairest concubines, had their necks broke
Ere they would zee this day: to mark the verven
Heart of a beast! the very pig, the pig
This very morning, as he was a roasting,
Cried out his eyes, and made a shew, as he would
Have bit in two the spit; as he would say,
There shall no roast-meat be this dismal day.
And zure, I think, if I had not got his tongue
Between my teeth and eat it, he had spoke it.
Well, I will in and cry too; never leave
Crying until our maids may drive a buck
[Exit.With my salt tears at the next washing-day.
- ↑ We will cross o'er to Canbury in the interim,} Canberry-house
is in the neighbourhood of Islington. The true name of it is
Canon-berry; it was anciently a farm or grange belonging to
the monks of the priory of St. Bartholomew in Smithfield. Whal.
It is now divided into many separate dwellings, and has undergone another change, being called Cambray-house.