SCENE—ENGLAND, THE AZORES, MOROCCO.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.—A Street in Plymouth.
Enter CARROL and two Captains.
1ST CAPTAIN.
When puts my lord[5] to sea?
2ND CAPTAIN.
When the wind’s fair.
CARROL.
Resolve me, I entreat; can you not guess
The purpose of this voyage?
1ST CAPTAIN.
Most men think
The fleet’s bound for the Islands.[6]
CARROL.
Nay, ’tis like.
The great success at Cales,[7] under the conduct
Of such a noble general, hath put heart
Into the English: they are all on fire
To purchase from the Spaniard. If their carracks[8]
Come deeply laden, we shall tug with them
For golden spoil.
2ND CAPTAIN.
Oh, were it come to that!
1ST CAPTAIN.
How Plymouth swells with gallants; how the streets
Glister with gold! You cannot meet a man
But tricked in scarf and feather, that it seems
As if the pride of England’s gallantry
Were harboured here. It doth appear, methinks,
A very court of soldiers.
CARROL.
It doth so.
Where shall we dine to-day?
2ND CAPTAIN.
At the next tavern by; there’s the best wine.
1ST CAPTAIN.
And the best wench, Bess Bridges; she’s the flower
Of Plymouth held: the Castle needs no bush,[9]
Her beauty draws to them more gallant customers
Than all the signs i’ the town else.
2ND CAPTAIN.
A sweet lass,
If I have any judgment.
1ST CAPTAIN.
Now, in troth,
I think she’s honest.
CARROL.
Honest, and live there!
What, in a public tavern, where’s such confluence
Of lusty and brave gallants! Honest, said you?
2ND CAPTAIN.
I vow she is, for me.
1ST CAPTAIN.
For all, I think.
I’m sure she’s wondrous modest.
CARROL.
But withal
Exceeding affable.
2ND CAPTAIN.
An argument
That she’s not proud.
CARROL.
No; were she proud, she’d fall.
1ST CAPTAIN.
Well, she’s a most attractive adamant:[10]
Her very beauty hath upheld that house,
And gained her master much.
CARROL.
That adamant
Shall for this time draw me too: we’ll dine there.
2ND CAPTAIN.
No better motion. Come to the Castle then.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—In front of the Castle Tavern.
ENTER SPENCER AND CAPTAIN GOODLACK.
GOODLACK.
What, to the old house still?
SPENCER.
Canst blame me, captain?
Believe me, I was never surprised till now,
Or catched upon the sudden.
GOODLACK.
Pray resolve me;
Why, being a gentleman of fortunes, means,
And well revenued, will you adventure thus
A doubtful voyage, when only such as I,
Born to no other fortunes than my sword,
Should seek abroad for pillage?
SPENCER.
Pillage, captain!
No, ’tis for honour; and the brave society
Of all these shining gallants, that attend
The great lord-general, drew me hither first,
No hope of gain or spoil.
GOODLACK.
Ay, but what draws you to this house so oft?
SPENCER.
As if thou knew’st it not.
GOODLACK.
What, Bess?
SPENCER.
Even she.
GOODLACK.
Come, I must tell you, you forget yourself,
One of your birth and breeding thus to dote
Upon a tanner’s daughter! why, her father
Sold hides in Somersetshire, and, being trade-fallen,
Sent her to service.
SPENCER.
Prithee speak no more;
Thou tell’st me that which I would fain forget,
Or wish I had not known. If thou wilt humour me,
Tell me she’s fair and honest.
GOODLACK.
Yes, and loves you.
SPENCER.
To forget that were to exclude the rest:
All saving that were nothing. Come, let’s enter.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Room in the Castle Tavern.
Enter SPENCER, Captain GOODLACK, and two Drawers.
1ST DRAWER.
You are welcome, gentlemen.—Show them into the next room there.
2ND DRAWER.
Look out a towel, and some rolls, a salt and trenchers.
SPENCER.
No, sir, we will not dine.
2ND DRAWER.
I am sure ye would, if you had my stomach. What wine drink ye, sack or claret?
SPENCER.
Where’s Bess?
2ND DRAWER.
Marry, above, with three or four gentlemen.
SPENCER.
Go call her.
2ND DRAWER.
I’ll draw you a cup of the neatest wine in Plymouth.
SPENCER.
I’ll taste none of your drawing. Go call Bess.
2ND DRAWER.
There’s nothing in the mouths of these gallants but “Bess, Bess.”
SPENCER.
What say y’, sir?
2ND DRAWER.
Nothing, sir, but I’ll go and call her presently.
SPENCER.
Tell her who’s here.
2ND DRAWER.
The devil rid her out of the house, for me!
SPENCER.
Say y’, sir?
2ND DRAWER.
Nothing but anon, anon, sir.
ENTER BESS BRIDGES.
SPENCER.
See, she’s come!
BESS.
Sweet Master Spencer, y’are a stranger grown.
Where have you been these three days?
SPENCER.
The last night
I sat up late at game. Here, take this bag,
And lay’t up till I call for’t.
BESS.
Sir, I shall.
SPENCER.
Bring me some wine.
BESS.
I know your taste,
And I shall please your palate. [Exit.
GOODLACK.
Troth, ’tis a pretty soul!
SPENCER.
To thee I will unbosom all my thoughts:
Were her low birth but equal with her beauty,
Here would I fix my thoughts.
GOODLACK.
You are not mad, sir?
You say you love her.
SPENCER.
Never question that.
GOODLACK.
Then put her to’t; win Opportunity,
She’s the best bawd. If, as you say, she loves you,
She can deny you nothing.
SPENCER.
I have proved her
Unto the utmost test; examined her,
Even to a modest force; but all in vain:
She’ll laugh, confer, keep company, discourse,
And something more, kiss; but beyond that compass
She no way can be drawn.
GOODLACK.
’Tis a virtue
But seldom found in taverns.
Re-enter BESS, with wine.
BESS.
’Tis of the best Graves wine,[11] sir.
SPENCER.
Gramercy, girl: come sit.
BESS.
Pray pardon, sir, I dare not.
SPENCER.
I’ll ha’ it so.
BESS.
My fellows love me not, and will complain
Of such a saucy boldness.
SPENCER.
Pox on your fellows!
I’ll try whether their pottle-pots or heads
Be harder, if I do but hear them grumble.
Sit: now, Bess, drink to me.
BESS.
To your good voyage! [Drinks.
Re-enter
2nd Drawer.
2ND DRAWER.
Did you call, sir?
SPENCER.
Yes, sir, to have your absence. Captain, this health.
GOODLACK.
Let it come, sir.
2ND DRAWER.
Must you be set, and we wait, with a——!
SPENCER.
What say you, sir?
2ND DRAWER.
Anon, anon: I come there. [Exit.
SPENCER.
What will you venture, Bess, to sea with me?
BESS.
What I love best, my heart: for I could wish
I had been born to equal you in fortune,
Or you so low, to have been ranked with me;
I could have then presumed boldly to say,
I love none but my
Spencer.
SPENCER.
Bess, I thank thee.
Keep still that hundred pound till my return
From the Islands with my lord: if never, wench,
Take it; it is thine own.
BESS.
You bind me to you.
Re-enter
1st Drawer.
1ST DRAWER.
Bess, you must fill some wine into the Portcullis; the gentlemen there will drink none but of your drawing.
SPENCER.
She shall not rise, sir. Go, let your master snick-up.[12]
1ST DRAWER.
And that should be cousin-german to the hick-up.
Re-enter
2nd Drawer.
2ND DRAWER.
Bess, you must needs come. The gentlemen fling pots, pottles, drawers, and all down stairs. The whole house is in an uproar.
BESS.
Pray pardon, sir; I needs must be gone.
2ND DRAWER.
The gentlemen swear if she come not up to them, they will come down to her.
SPENCER.
If they come in peace,
Like civil gentlemen, they may be welcome:
If otherwise, let them usurp their pleasures.
We stand prepared for both.
Enter CARROL and the two Captains.
CARROL.
Save you, gallants! We are somewhat bold, to press
Into your company: it may be held scarce manners;
Therefore, ’tis fit that we should crave your pardon.
SPENCER.
Sir, you are welcome; so are your friends.
1ST CAPTAIN.
Some wine!
BESS.
Pray give me leave to fill it.
SPENCER.
You shall not stir. So, please you, we’ll join company.—
Drawer, more stools.
CARROL.
I take’t that’s a she drawer. Are you of the house?
BESS.
I am, sir.
CARROL.
In what place?
BESS.
I draw.
CARROL.
Beer, do you not? You are some tapstress.
SPENCER.
Sir, the worst character you can bestow
Upon the maid is to draw wine.
CARROL.
She would draw none to us.
Perhaps she keeps a rundlet for your taste,
Which none but you must pierce.
2ND CAPTAIN.
I pray be civil.
SPENCER.
I know not, gentlemen, what your intents be,
Nor do I fear, or care. This is my room;
And if you bear you, as you seem in show,
Like gentlemen, sit and be sociable.
CARROL.
We will.—[to BESS.] Minx, by your leave. Remove, I say.
SPENCER.
She shall not stir.
CARROL.
How, sir?
SPENCER.
No, sir. Could you outface the devil,
We do not fear your roaring.[13]
CARROL.
Though you may be companion with a drudge,
It is not fit she should have place by us.—
About your business, housewife.
SPENCER.
She is worthy
The place as the best here, and she shall keep’t.
CARROL.
You lie.
[They draw and justle: CARROL is slain.
GOODLACK.
The gentleman’s slain: away!
BESS.
O, Heaven! what have you done?
GOODLACK.
Undone thyself, and me too. Come away.
[EXEUNT GOODLACK AND
SPENCER.
BESS.
Oh, sad misfortune! I shall lose him ever.
What! are you men, or milksops? Stand you still,
Senseless as stones, and see your friend in danger
To expire his last?
1ST CAPTAIN.
Tush! all our help’s in vain.
2ND CAPTAIN.
This is the fruit of whores;
This mischief came through thee.
BESS.
It grew first from your incivility.
1ST CAPTAIN.
Lend me a hand, to lift his body hence.
It was a fatal business.
[Exeunt the Captains, bearing the body.
Re-enter the two Drawers.
1ST DRAWER.
One call my master, another fetch the constable. Here’s a man killed in the room.
2ND DRAWER.
How! a man killed, say’st thou? Is all paid?
1ST DRAWER.
How fell they out, canst thou tell?
2ND DRAWER.
Sure, about this bold Bettrice.[14] ’Tis not so much for the death of the man, but how shall we come by our reckoning?
[Exeunt Drawers.
BESS.
What shall become of me? Of all lost creatures,
The most infortunate! My innocence
Hath been the cause of blood, and I am now
Purpled with murder, though not within compass
Of the law’s severe censure: but, which most
Adds unto my affliction, I by this
Have lost so worthy and approved a friend,
Whom to redeem from exile, I would give
All that’s without and in me.
ENTER FAWCETT.
FAWCETT.
Your name’s Bess Bridges?
BESS.
An unfortunate maid,
Known by that name too well in Plymouth, here.
Your business, sir, with me?
FAWCETT.
Know you this ring?
BESS.
I do: it is my Spencer’s.
I know, withal, you are his trusty friend,
To whom he would commit it. Speak: how fares he?
Is he in freedom, know ye?
FAWCETT.
He’s in health
Of body, though in mind somewhat perplexed
For this late mischief happened.
BESS.
Is he fled,
And freed from danger?
FAWCETT.
Neither. By this token
He lovingly commends him to you, Bess,
And prays you, when ’tis dark, meet him o’ th’ Hoe,
Near to the new-made fort, where he’ll attend you,
Before he flies, to take a kind farewell.
There’s only Goodlack in his company:
He entreats you not to fail him.
BESS.
Tell him from me, I’ll come, I’ll run, I’ll fly,
Stand death before me; were I sure to die.
[Exeunt.
ENTER SPENCER AND CAPTAIN
GOODLACK.
GOODLACK.
You are too full of passion.
To have the guilt of murder burden me;
And next, my life in hazard to a death
So ignominious; last, to lose a love.
SPENCER.
Canst thou blame me,
So sweet, so fair, so amorous, and so chaste,
And all these at an instant! Art thou sure
Carrol is dead?
GOODLACK.
I can believe no less.
You hit him in the very speeding place.
SPENCER.
Oh! but the last of these sits near’st my heart.
GOODLACK.
Sir, be advised by me:
Try her, before you trust her. She, perchance,
May take the advantage of your hopeful fortunes;
But when she finds you subject to distress
And casualty, her flattering love may die,
Your hopes deceased.
SPENCER.
Thou counsell’st well.
I’ll put her to the test and utmost trial,
Before I trust her further. Here she comes.
Enter FAWCETT, and BESS with a bag.
FAWCETT.
I have done my message, sir.
BESS.
Fear not, sweet Spencer; we are now alone,
And thou art sanctuarèd in these mine arms.
GOODLACK.
While these confer, we’ll sentinel their safety.
This place I’ll guard.
FAWCETT.
I this.
BESS.
Are you not hurt,
Or your skin rased with his offensive steel?
How is it with you?
SPENCER.
Bess, all my afflictions
Are that I must leave thee: thou know’st, withal,
My extreme necessity, and that the fear
Of a most scandalous death doth force me hence.
I am not near my country; and to stay
For new supply from thence might deeply engage me
BESS.
Is it coin you want?
Here is the hundred pound you gave me late:
Use that, beside what I have stored and saved,
Which makes it fifty more. Were it ten thousand,
Nay, a whole million, Spencer, all were thine.
SPENCER.
No; what thou hast, keep still; ’tis all thine own.
Here be my keys: my trunks take to thy charge:
Such gold fit for transportage as I have,
I’ll bear along: the rest are freely thine.
Money, apparel, and what else thou find’st,
Perhaps worth my bequest and thy receiving,
I make thee mistress of.
BESS.
Before, I doted;
But now you strive to have me ecstasied.
What would you have me do, in which to express
My zeal to you?
SPENCER.
I enjoin thee to keep
Ever my picture, which in my chamber hangs;
For when thou part’st with that, thou losest me.
BESS.
My soul may from my body be divorced,
But never that from me.
SPENCER.
I have a house in Foy, a tavern called
The Windmill; that I freely give thee, too;
And thither, if I live, I’ll send to thee.
BESS.
So soon as I have cast my reckonings up,
And made even with my master, I’ll not fail
To visit Foy, in Cornwall. Is there else
Aught that you will enjoin me?
SPENCER.
Thou art fair:
Join to thy beauty virtue. Many suitors
I know will tempt thee: beauty’s a shrewd bait,
But unto that if thou add’st chastity,
Thou shalt o’ercome all scandal. Time calls hence;
We now must part.
BESS.
Oh, that I had the power to make Time lame,
To stay the stars, or make the moon stand still,
That future day might never haste thy flight!
I could dwell here for ever in thine arms,
And wish it always night.
SPENCER.
We trifle hours. Farewell!
BESS.
First take this ring:
’Twas the first token of my constant love
That passed betwixt us. When I see this next,
And not my Spencer, I shall think thee dead;
For, till death part thy body from thy soul,
I know thou wilt not part with it.
SPENCER.
Swear for me, Bess; for thou mayst safely do’t.
Once more, farewell: at Foy thou shalt hear from me.
BESS.
There’s not a word that hath a parting sound
Which through mine ears shrills not immediate death.
I shall not live to lose thee.
FAWCETT.
Best be gone;
For hark, I hear some tread.
SPENCER.
A thousand farewells are in one contracted.
Captain, away!
[EXEUNT SPENCER AND
GOODLACK.
BESS.
Oh! I shall die.
FAWCETT.
What mean you, Bess? will you betray your friend,
Or call my name in question? Sweet, look up.
BESS.
Ha, is my Spencer gone?
FAWCETT.
With speed towards Foy,
There to take ship for Fayal.
BESS.
Let me recollect myself,
And what he left in charge—virtue and chastity;
Next, with all sudden expedition
Prepare for Foy: all these will I conserve,
And keep them strictly, as I would my life.
Plymouth, farewell: in Cornwall I will prove
A second fortune, and for ever mourn,
Until I see my Spencer’s safe return.
[Exeunt.
Hautboys. A dumb show.[15] Enter General, Captains and the Mayor of Plymouth. At the other side petitioners with papers; amongst these the Drawers. The General gives them bags of money. All go off, saving the two Drawers.
1ST DRAWER.
’Tis well that we have gotten all the money due to my master. It is the commonest thing that can be, for these captains to score and to score; but when the scores are to be paid, non est inventus.
2ND DRAWER.
’Tis ordinary amongst gallants, now-a-days, who had rather swear forty oaths than only this one oath—“God, let me never be trusted!”
1ST DRAWER.
But if the captains would follow the noble mind of the general, before night there would not be one score owing in Plymouth.
2ND DRAWER.
Little knows Bess that my master hath got in these desperate debts. But she hath cast up her account, and is gone.
1ST DRAWER.
Whither, canst thou tell?
2ND DRAWER.
They say, to keep a tavern in Foy, and that Master Spencer hath given her a stock, to set up for herself. Well, howsoever, I am glad, though he killed the man, we have got our money.
[Exeunt.