The Works of Ben Jonson/Volume 6/A Tale of a Tub/Act I/Scene IV
(Redirected from A Tale of a Tub (Jonson)/Act I/Scene IV)
SCENE IV.
Totten Court.
Before lady Tub's House.
Enter lady Tub, and Pol Martin.
Lady T. Is the nag ready, Martin? call the 'squire.
This frosty morning we will take the air,
About the fields; for I do mean to be
Somebody's Valentine, in my velvet gown,
This morning, though it be but a beggar-man.
Why stand you still, and do not call my son?
This frosty morning we will take the air,
About the fields; for I do mean to be
Somebody's Valentine, in my velvet gown,
This morning, though it be but a beggar-man.
Why stand you still, and do not call my son?
Pol. Madam, if he had couched with the lamb,
He had no doubt been stirring with the lark:
But he sat up at play, and watch'd the cock,
Till his first warning chid him off to rest.
Late watchers are no early wakers, madam:
But if your ladyship will have him call'd—
He had no doubt been stirring with the lark:
But he sat up at play, and watch'd the cock,
Till his first warning chid him off to rest.
Late watchers are no early wakers, madam:
But if your ladyship will have him call'd—
Lady T. Will have him call'd! wherefore did I, sir, bid him
Be call d, you weazel, vermin of an huisher?
You will return your wit to your first stile
Of Martin Polecat, by these stinking tricks,
If you do use them: I shall no more call you
Pol Martin, by the title of a gentleman,
If you go on thus.
Be call d, you weazel, vermin of an huisher?
You will return your wit to your first stile
Of Martin Polecat, by these stinking tricks,
If you do use them: I shall no more call you
Pol Martin, by the title of a gentleman,
If you go on thus.
[Exit. Pol. I am gone.
Lady T. Be quick then,
In your come off; and make amends, you stote!
Was ever such a fulmart for an huisher,
To a great worshipful lady, as myself!
Who, when I heard his name first, Martin Polecat,
A stinking name, and not to be pronounced
In any lady's presence without a reverence;[1]
My very heart e'en yearn'd, seeing the fellow
Young, pretty, and handsome; being then, I say,
A basket-carrier, and a man condemn'd
To the salt-petre works; made it my suit
To master Peter Tub, that I might change it;
And call him as I do now, by Pol Martin,
To have it sound like a gentleman in an office,
And made him mine own foreman, daily waiter.
And he to serve me thus! ingratitude,
Beyond the coarseness yet of any clownage,
Shewn to a lady!
In your come off; and make amends, you stote!
Was ever such a fulmart for an huisher,
To a great worshipful lady, as myself!
Who, when I heard his name first, Martin Polecat,
A stinking name, and not to be pronounced
In any lady's presence without a reverence;[1]
My very heart e'en yearn'd, seeing the fellow
Young, pretty, and handsome; being then, I say,
A basket-carrier, and a man condemn'd
To the salt-petre works; made it my suit
To master Peter Tub, that I might change it;
And call him as I do now, by Pol Martin,
To have it sound like a gentleman in an office,
And made him mine own foreman, daily waiter.
And he to serve me thus! ingratitude,
Beyond the coarseness yet of any clownage,
Shewn to a lady!
Re-enter Pol Martin.
What now, is he stirring?
Pol. Stirring betimes out of his bed, and ready.
Pol. Stirring betimes out of his bed, and ready.
Lady T. And comes he then?
Pol. No, madam, he is gone.
Lady T. Gone! whither? Ask the porter where is he gone.
Pol. I met the porter, and have ask'd him for him;
He says, he let him forth an hour ago.
He says, he let him forth an hour ago.
Lady T. An hour ago! what business could he have
So early; Where is his man, grave Basket-hilts,
His guide and governor?
So early; Where is his man, grave Basket-hilts,
His guide and governor?
Pol. Gone with his master.
Lady T. Is he gone too! O that same surly knave
Is his right-hand; and leads my son amiss.
He has carried him to some drinking match or other.
Pol Martin, I will call you so again,
I am friends with you now go, get your horse and ride
To all the towns about here, where his haunts are,
And cross the fields to meet, and bring me word;
He cannot be gone far, being a-foot.
Be curious to inquire him: and bid Wispe,
[Exit Pol.]My woman, come, and wait on me.
The love
We mothers bear our sons we have bought with pain,
Makes us oft view them with too careful eyes,
And overlook them with a jealous fear,
Out-fitting mothers.
Is his right-hand; and leads my son amiss.
He has carried him to some drinking match or other.
Pol Martin, I will call you so again,
I am friends with you now go, get your horse and ride
To all the towns about here, where his haunts are,
And cross the fields to meet, and bring me word;
He cannot be gone far, being a-foot.
Be curious to inquire him: and bid Wispe,
[Exit Pol.]My woman, come, and wait on me.
The love
We mothers bear our sons we have bought with pain,
Makes us oft view them with too careful eyes,
And overlook them with a jealous fear,
Out-fitting mothers.
Enter Dido Wispe.
Lady T. How now, Wispe! have you
A Valentine yet? I am taking the air to choose one.
A Valentine yet? I am taking the air to choose one.
Wispe. Fate send your ladyship a fit one then.
Lady T. What kind of one is that?
Wispe. A proper man
To please your ladyship.
To please your ladyship.
Lady T. Out of that vanity
That takes the foolish eye! any poor creature,
Whose want may need my alms or courtesy,
I rather wish; so bishop Valentine
Left us example to do deeds of charity;
To feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit
The weak and sick; to entertain the poor,
And give the dead a christian funeral:
These were the works of piety he did practise,
And bade us imitate; not look for lovers,
Or handsome images to please our senses.—
I pray thee, Wispe, deal freely with me now,
We are alone, and may be merry a little:
Thou art none of the court glories, nor the wonders
For wit or beauty in the city; tell me,
What man would satisfy thy present fancy,
Had thy ambition leave to choose a Valentine,
Within the queen's dominion, so a subject?
That takes the foolish eye! any poor creature,
Whose want may need my alms or courtesy,
I rather wish; so bishop Valentine
Left us example to do deeds of charity;
To feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit
The weak and sick; to entertain the poor,
And give the dead a christian funeral:
These were the works of piety he did practise,
And bade us imitate; not look for lovers,
Or handsome images to please our senses.—
I pray thee, Wispe, deal freely with me now,
We are alone, and may be merry a little:
Thou art none of the court glories, nor the wonders
For wit or beauty in the city; tell me,
What man would satisfy thy present fancy,
Had thy ambition leave to choose a Valentine,
Within the queen's dominion, so a subject?
Wispe. You have given me a large scope, madam, I confess,
And I will deal with your ladyship sincerely;
I'll utter my whole heart to you. I would have him
The bravest, richest, and the properest man
A tailor could make up; or all the poets,
With the perfumers: I would have him such,
As not another woman but should spite me;
Three city ladies should run mad for him,
And country madams infinite.
And I will deal with your ladyship sincerely;
I'll utter my whole heart to you. I would have him
The bravest, richest, and the properest man
A tailor could make up; or all the poets,
With the perfumers: I would have him such,
As not another woman but should spite me;
Three city ladies should run mad for him,
And country madams infinite.
Lady T. You would spare me,
And let me hold my wits?
And let me hold my wits?
Wispe. I should with you,
For the young 'squire, my master's sake, dispense
A little, but it should be very little.
Then all the court-wives I'd have jealous of me,
As all their husbands jealous too of them;[2]
And not a lawyer's puss of any quality,
But lick her lips for a snatch in the term-time.
For the young 'squire, my master's sake, dispense
A little, but it should be very little.
Then all the court-wives I'd have jealous of me,
As all their husbands jealous too of them;[2]
And not a lawyer's puss of any quality,
But lick her lips for a snatch in the term-time.
Lady T. Come,
Let's walk; we'll hear the rest as we go on:
You are this morning in a good vein, Dido;
Would I could be as merry! My son's absence
Troubles me not a little, though I seek
These ways to put it off; which will not help:
Care that is entered once into the breast,
[Exeunt.Will have the whole possession ere it rest.
Let's walk; we'll hear the rest as we go on:
You are this morning in a good vein, Dido;
Would I could be as merry! My son's absence
Troubles me not a little, though I seek
These ways to put it off; which will not help:
Care that is entered once into the breast,
[Exeunt.Will have the whole possession ere it rest.
- ↑ ——— without a reverence.] An allusion to the good old custom of apologizing for the introduction of a free expression, by bowing to the principal person in company, and saying,—Sir, with reverence, or, Sir, reverence. There is much filthy stuff on this simple interjection (of which neither Steevens nor Malone appears to have known the import) in the notes to Romeo and Juliet.
- ↑ As all their husbands jealous of them.] I have inserted too, which helps out the measure, and makes the sentiment rather clearer than before. Whal.