[A Chaste Maid in Cheapside]

C h a s t e

M a i d

i n

C h e a p s i d e

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ALLWIT
Think'st thou so, Davy?
Then am I mortal too, but a dead man, Davy;
This is no world for me, whene'er he goes,
I must e'en truss up all, and after him, Davy,
a sheet with two knots, and away!

ALLWIT
Heyday, my wife's laid down, too, here's like to be
A good house kept, when we are altogether down;
Take pains with her, good Davy, cheer her up there,
Let me come to his worship, let me come.

SIR WALTER
Touch me not, villain, my wound aches at thee,
Thou poison to my heart.

ALLWIT
He raves already,
His senses are quite gone, he knows me not;
Look up, an't like your worship, heave those eyes,
Call me to mind, is your remembrance lost?
Look in my face, who am I, an't like your worship?

ALLWIT
Alas his poor worship's weakness,
He will begin to know me by little and little.

SIR WALTER
Thou know'st me to be wicked, for thy baseness
Kept the eyes open still on all my sins,
None knew the dear account my soul stood charged with
So well as thou, yet like Hell's flattering angel
Would'st thou never tell me on't, let'st me go on,
And join with death in sleep, that if I had not waked
Now by chance, even by a stranger's pity,
I had everlastingly slept out all hope
Of grace and mercy.

ALLWIT
Now he is worse and worse,
Wife, to him wife, thou wast wont to do good on him.

SIR WALTER
Not as with you,
Thou loathsome strumpet: some good pitying man
Remove my sins out of my sight a little;
I tremble to behold her, she keeps back
All comfort while she stays; is this a time,
Unconscionable woman, to see thee?
Art thou so cruel to the peace of man,
Not to give liberty now? The devil himself
Shows a far fairer reverence and respect
To goodness than thyself; he dares not do this,
But part in time of penitence, hides his face;
When man withdraws from him, he leaves the place;
Hast thou less manners, and more impudence,
Than thy instructor? Prithee show thy modesty,
If the least grain be left, and get thee from me.
Thou should'st be rather locked many rooms hence,
From the poor miserable sight of me,
If either love or grace had part in thee.

ALLWIT
Run, sweet Davy, quickly,
And fetch the children hither--sight of them
Will make him cheerful straight.

SIR WALTER
O death! Is this
A place for you to weep? What tears are those?
Get you away with them, I shall fare the worse
As long as they are a-weeping; they work against me;
There's nothing but thy appetite in that sorrow,
Thou weep'st for lust, I feel it in the slackness
Of comforts coming towards me;
I was well till thou began'st to undo me;
This shows like the fruitless sorrow of a careless mother
That brings her son with dalliance to the gallows,
And then stands by, and weeps to see him suffer.

DAVY
There are the children, sir, an't like your worship,
Your last fine girl, in troth, she smiles,
Look, look, in faith, sir.

SIR WALTER
O my vengeance,
Let me forever hide my cursed face
From sight of those that darken all my hopes,
And stand between me and the sight of Heaven;
Who sees me now, he too and those so near me,
May rightly say, I am o'ergrown with sin;
O how my offences wrestle with my repentance,
It hath scarce breath--
still my adulterous guilt hovers aloft,
and with her black wings beats down all my prayers
Ere they be half way up; what's he knows now
How long I have to live? O, what comes then?
My taste grows bitter, the round world all gall now,
Her pleasing pleasures now hath poisoned me,
Which I exchanged my soul for;
Make way a hundred sighs at once for me.

Recorders dolefully playing. Enter at one door the coffin of the gentleman [Touchwood Junior],
solemnly decked, his sword upon it, attended by many in black [including Sir Oliver, Allwit, and a Parson],
his brother [Touchwood Senior] being the chief mourner. At the other door, the coffin of the virgin [Moll], with a garland of flowers,
with epitaphs pinned on it, attended by maids and women [including Lady Kix, Mistress Allwit, and Susan].
Then set them down one right over against the other, while all the company seem to weep and mourn; there is a sad song in the music room.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Never could death boast of a richer prize
From the first parent, let the world bring forth
A pair of truer hearts; to speak but truth
Of this departed gentleman, in a brother,
Might by hard censure be called flattery,
Which makes me rather silent in his right
Than so to be delivered to the thoughts
Of any envious hearer starved in virtue,
And therefore pining to hear others thrive.
But for this maid, whom envy cannot hurt
With all her poisons, having left to ages
The true, chaste monuments of her living name,
Which no time can deface, I say of her
The full truth freely, without fear of censure;
What nature could there shine, that might redeem
Perfection home to woman, but in her
Was fully glorious; beauty set in goodness
Speaks what she was, that jewel so infixed;
There was no want of anything of life,
To make these virtuous precedents man and wife.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
I cannot think, there's anyone amongst you,
In this full fair assembly, maid, man, or wife,
Whose heart would not have sprung with joy and gladness
To have seen their marriage day?

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Up then apace, and take your fortunes,
Make these joyful hearts, here's none but friends.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Nay, do not hinder 'em now, stand from about 'em,
If she be caught again, and have this time,
I'll ne'er plot further for 'em, nor this honest chambermaid
That helped all at a push.

PARSON
Hands join now, but hearts for ever,
Which no parent's mood shall sever.
You shall forsake all widows, wives, and maids:
You, lords, knights, gentlemen, and men of trades:
And if in haste, any article misses,
Go interline it with a brace of kisses.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Here's a thing trolled nimbly. Give you joy, brother,
Were't not better thou should'st have her,
Than the maid should die?

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Here be your wedding sheets
you brought along with you, you may both
go to bed when you please to.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Sister, delight will silence any woman,
But you'll find your tongue again among maidservants,
Now you keep house, sister.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
To tell you the full story of this chambermaid,
And of her kindness in this business to us,
'Twould ask an hour's discourse. In brief, 'twas she
That wrought it to this purpose cunningly.

YELLOWHAMMER
I will prevent you all, and mock you thus,
You, and your expectations; I stand happy,
Both in your lives, and your hearts' combination.

YELLOWHAMMER
The knight's proved villain,
All's come out now, his niece an arrant baggage;
My poor boy Tim is cast away this morning,
Even before breakfast: married a whore
Next to his heart.

[MISTRESS ALLWIT]
I knew he was past the best, when I gave him over.
What is become of him, pray, sir?

YELLOWHAMMER
Who, the knight?
He lies i' th' knight's ward now. [To Lady Kix] Your belly, lady,
Begins to blossom, there's no peace for him,
His creditors are so greedy.

SIR OLIVER
Mr. Touchwood, hear'st thou this news?
I am so endeared to thee for my wife's fruitfulness,
That I charge you both, your wife and thee,
To live no more asunder for the world's frowns;
I have purse, and bed, and board for you:
Be not afraid to go to your business roundly,
Get children, and I'll keep them.

TOUCHWOOD SENIOR
Take heed how you dare a man, while you live, sir,
That has good skill at his weapon.

YELLOWHAMMIER
Look, gentlemen, if ever you say the picture
Of the unfortunate marriage, yonder 'tis.

TIM
Come from the university,
To marry a whore in London, with my tutor, too?
O tempora! O mors!

TIM
I bought a jade at Cambridge,
I'll let her out to execution, tutor,
For eighteen pence a day, or Brainford horse races;
She'll serve to carry seven miles out of town well.
Where be these mountains? I was promised mountains,
But there's such a mist, I can see none of 'em.
What are become of those two thousand runts?
Let's have about with them in the meantime.
A vengeance runt thee.

MAUDLIN
I think you have married her in logic, Tim.
You told me once, by logic you would prove
A whore an honest woman, prove her so, Tim,
And take her for thy labour.

TIM
Troth, I thank you.
I grant you I may prove another man's wife so,
But not mine own.

TIM
Why then my tutor and I will about her,
As well as we can.
Uxor non est meretrix, ergo falacis.

WELSH GENTLEWOMAN
Sir, if your logic cannot prove me honest,
There's a thing called marriage, and that makes me honest.

TIM
I perceive then a woman may be honest
according to the English print, when she is a whore in the Latin.
So much for marriage and logic. I'll love her for her wit,
I'll pick out my runts there: and for my mountains, I'll mount upon--

YELLOWHAMMER
So fortune seldom deals two marriages
With one hand, and both lucky: the best is,
One feast will serve them both: marry, for room
I'll have the dinner kept in Goldsmiths' Hall,
To which, kind gallants, I invite you all.