Beggars Bush: A Comedy

Francis Beaumont

Beggars Bush: A Comedy / From the Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10)

Persons Represented in the Play

Wolfort, an usurper of the Earldom of Flanders.

Gerrard, falsely called Clause, King of the Beggars, Father in Law to Florez.

Hubert, an honest Lord, a friend to Gerrard.

Florez, falsely called Goswin, a rich Merchant of Bruges.

Hempskirke, a Captain under Wolford.

Herman a Courtier,} inhabitants of A Merchant, } Flanders.

Vandunke, a drunken Merchant friend to Gerrard, falsely called Father to Bertha.

Vanlock, and 4 Merchants, of Bruges.

Higgen, }

Prigg, }Three Knavish Beggars.

Snapp, }

Ferret, }Two Gentlemen disguised under those

Ginkes, } names of Gerrard's party.

Clown.

Boores.

Servants.

Guard.

A Sailor.

WOMEN.

Jaculin, Daughter to Gerrard, beloved of Hubert.

Bertha called Gertrude, Daughter to the Duke of Brabant, Mistress to Florez.

Margaret, Wife to Vandunke.

Mrs Frances, a frow Daughter to Vanlock.

The Scene Flanders.

ACTUS PRIMUS. SCENA PRIMA

Enter a Merchant and Herman.

Mer. Is he then taken?Her. And brought back even now, Sir.Mer. He was not in disgrace?Her. No man more lov'd,Nor more deserv'd it, being the only manThat durst be honest in this Court.Mer. IndeedWe have heard abroad, Sir, that the State hath sufferedA great change, since the Countesses death.Her. It hath, Sir.Mer. My five years absence hath kept me a strangerSo much to all the occurents of my Country,As you shall bind me for some short relationTo make me understand the present times.Her. I must begin then with a War was madeAnd seven years with all cruelty continuedUpon our Flanders by the Duke of Brabant,The cause grew thus: during our Earls minority,Wolfort, (who now usurps) was employed thitherTo treat about a match between our EarlAnd the Daughter and Heir of Brabant: during which treatyThe Brabander pretends, this Daughter wasStoln from his Court, by practice of our State,Though we are all confirm'd, 'twas a sought quarrelTo lay an unjust gripe upon this Earldom,It being here believ'd the Duke of BrabantHad no such loss. This War upon't proclaimed,Our Earl, being then a Child, although his FatherGood Gerrard liv'd, yet in respect he wasChosen by the Countesses favour, for her Husband,And but a Gentleman, and Florez holdingHis right unto this Country from his Mother,The State thought fit in this defensive War,Wolfort being then the only man of mark,To make him General.Mer. Which place we have heardHe did discharge with ho[n]our.Her. I, so long,And with so blest successes, that the BrabanderWas forc't (his treasures wasted, and the choiceOf his best men of Armes tyr'd, or cut off)To leave the field, and sound a base retreatBack to his Country: but so broken bothIn mind and means, er'e to make head again,That hitherto he sits down by his loss,Not daring, or for honour, or revengeAgain to tempt his fortune. But this VictoryMore broke our State, and made a deeper hurtIn Flanders, than the greatest overthrowShe ever receiv'd: For Wolfort, now beholdingHimself, and actions, in the flattering glassOf self-deservings, and that cherish't byThe strong assurance of his power, for thenAll Captains of the Army were his creatures,The common Souldier too at his devotion,Made so by full indulgence to their rapinesAnd secret bounties, this strength too well knownAnd what it could effect, soon put in practice,As further'd by the Child-hood of the Earl:And their improvidence, that might have pierc'tThe heart of his designs, gave him occasionTo seize the whole, and in that plight you find it.Mer. Sir, I receive the knowledge of thus much,As a choice favour from you.Her. Only I must add, Bruges holds out.Mer. Whither, Sir, I am going,For there last night I had a ship put in,And my Horse waits me. [Exit.Her. I wish you a good journey.

Enter Wolfort, Hubert.

Wol. What? Hubert stealing from me? who disarm'd him?It was more than I commanded; take your sword,I am best guarded with it in your hand,I have seen you use it nobly.Hub. And will turn itOn my own bosom, ere it shall be drawnUnworthily or rudely.Wol. Would you leave meWithout a farewel, Hubert? flie a friendUnwearied in his study to advance you?What have I e're possess'd which was not yours?Or either did not court you to command it?Who ever yet arriv'd to any grace,Reward or trust from me, but his approachesWere by your fair reports of him prefer'd?And what is more I made my self your Servant,In making you the Master of those secretsWhich not the rack of Conscience could draw from me,Nor I, when I askt mercy, trust my prayers with;Yet after these assurances of love,These tyes and bonds of friendship, to forsake me?Forsake me as an enemy? come you mustGive me a reason.Hub. Sir, and so I will, If I may do't in private: and you hear it.Wol. All leave the room: you have your will, sit downAnd use the liberty of our first friendship.Hub. Friendship? when you prov'd Traitor first, that vanish'd,Nor do I owe you any thought, but hate,I know my flight hath forfeited my head;And so I may make you first understandWhat a strange monster you have made your self,I welcome it.Wol. To me this is strange language.Hub. To you? why what are you?Wol. Your Prince and Master, The Earl of Flanders.Hub. By a proper title!Rais'd to it by cunning, circumvention, force,Blood, and proscriptions.Wol. And in all this wisdom,Had I not reason? when by Gerrards plotsI should have first been call'd to a strict accomptHow, and which way I had consum'd that massOf money, as they term it, in the War,Who underhand had by his MinistersDetracted my great action, made my faithAnd loyalty suspected, in which failingHe sought my life by practice.Hub. With what fore-headDo you speak this to me? who (as I know't)Must, and will say 'tis false.Wol. My Guard there.Hub. Sir, you bad me sit, and promis'd you would hear,Which I now say you shall; not a sound more,For I that am contemner of mine own,Am Master of your life; then here's a SwordBetween you, and all aids, Sir, though you blindThe credulous beast, the multitude, you pass notThese gross untruths on me.Wol. How? gross untruths?Hub. I, and it is favourable language,They had been in a mean man lyes, and foul ones.Wol. You take strange Licence.Hub. Yes, were not those rumoursOf being called unto your answer, spreadBy your own followers? and weak Gerrard wrought(But by your cunning practice) to believeThat you were dangerous; yet not to bePunish'd by any formal course of Law,But first to be made sure, and have your crimesLaid open after, which your quaint train takingYou fled unto the Camp, and [there] crav'd humblyProtection for your innocent life, and that,Since you had scap'd the fury of the War,You might not fall by treason: and for proof,You did not for your own ends make this danger;Some that had been before by you suborn'd,Came forth and took their Oaths they had been hir'dBy Gerrard to your Murther. This once heard,And easily believ'd, th'inraged SouldierSeeing no further than the outward-man,Snatch'd hastily his Arms, ran to the Court,Kill'd all that made resistance, cut in piecesSuch as were Servants, or thought friends to Gerrard,Vowing the like to him.Wol. Will you yet end?Hub. Which he foreseeing, with his Son, the Earl,Forsook the City; and by secret wayesAs you give out, and we would gladly have it,Escap'd their fury: though 'tis more than fear'dThey fell amongst the rest; Nor stand you thereTo let us only mourn the impious meansBy which you got it, but your cruelties sinceSo far transcend your former bloody ills,As if compar'd, they only would appearEssays of mischief; do not stop your ears,More are behind yet.Wol. O repeat them not,'Tis Hell to hear them nam'd.Hub. You should have thought,That Hell would be your punishment when you did them,A Prince in nothing but your princely lusts,And boundless rapines.Wol. No more I beseech you.Hub. Who was the Lord of house or land, that stoodWithin the prospect of your covetous eye?Wol. You are in this to me a greater Tyrant,Than e're I was to any.Hub. I end thusThe general grief: now to my private wrong;The loss of Gerrards Daughter Jaqueline:The hop'd for partner of my lawful Bed,Your cruelty hath frighted from mine arms;And her I now was wandring to recover.Think you that I had reason now to leave you,When you are grown so justly odious,That ev'n my stay here with your grace and favour,Makes my life irksome? here, surely take it,And do me but this fruit of all your friendship,That I may dye by you, and not your Hang-man.Wol. Oh Hubert, these your words and reasons haveAs well drawn drops of blood from my griev'd heart,As these tears from mine eyes;Despise them not.By all that's sacred, I am serious, Hubert,You now have made me sensible, what furies,Whips, Hangmen, and Tormentors a bad manDo's ever bear about him: let the goodThat you this day have done, be ever number'dThe first of your best actions;Can you think,Where Goswin is or Gerrard, or your love,Or any else, or all that are proscrib'd?I will resign, what I usurp, or haveUnjustly forc'd; the dayes I have to liveAre too too few to make them satisfactionWith any penitence: yet I vow to practiseAll of a man.Hub. O that your heart and tongueDid not now differ!Wol. By my griefs they do not.Take the good pains to search them out: 'tis worth it,You have made clean a Leper: trust me you have,And made me once more fit for the society,I hope of good men.Hub. Sir, do not abuse My aptness to believe.Wol. Suspect not youA faith that's built upon so true a sorrow,Make your own safetys: ask them all the tiesHumanity can give, Hemskirk too shallAlong with you to this so wish'd discovery,And in my name profess all that you promise;And I will give you this help to't: I haveOf late receiv'd certain intelligence,That some of them are in or about BrugesTo be found out: which I did then interpret,The cause of that Towns standing out against me;But now am glad, it may direct your purposeOf giving them their safety, and me peace.Hub. Be constant to your goodness, and you have it. [Exeunt.

SCENA II

Enter 3. Merchants.

1 Mer. 'Tis much that you deliver of this Goswin.2 Mer. But short of what I could, yet have the CountryConfirm'd it true, and by a general oath,And not a man hazard his credit in it:He bears himself with such a confidenceAs if he were the Master of the Sea,And not a wind upon the Sailers compass,But from one part or other was his factor,To bring him in the best commodities,Merchant e're ventur'd for.1. 'Tis strange.2. And yetThis do's in him deserve the least of wonder,Compared with other his peculiar fashions,Which all admire: he's young, and rich, at leastThus far reputed so, that since he liv'dIn Bruges, there was never brought to harbourSo rich a Bottom, but his bill would passUnquestion'd for her lading.3 Mer. Yet he still Continues a good man.2 Mer. So good, that butTo doubt him, would be held an injuryOr rather malice, with the best that traffique;But this is nothing, a great stock, and fortune,Crowning his judgement in his undertakingsMay keep him upright that way: But that wealthShould want the power to make him dote on it,Or youth teach him to wrong it, best commendsHis constant temper; for his outward habit'Tis suitable to his present course of life:His table furnish'd well, but not with daintiesThat please the appetite only for their rareness,Or their dear price: nor given to wine or women,Beyond his health, or warrant of a man,I mean a good one: and so loves his stateHe will not hazard it at play; nor lendUpon the assurance of a well-pen'd Letter,Although a challenge second the denialFrom such as make th' opinion of their valourTheir means of feeding.1 Mer. These are wayes to thrive,And the means not curs'd.2 Mer. What follows, thisMakes many venturers with him, in their wishes,For his prosperity: for when desertOr reason leads him to be liberal,His noble mind and ready hand contendWhich can add most to his free courtesies,Or in their worth, or speed to make them so.Is there a Virgin of good fame wants dower?He is a Father to her; or a SouldierThat in his Countreys service, from the warHath brought home only scars, and want? his houseReceives him, and relieves him, with that careAs if what he possess'd had been laid upFor such good uses, and he steward of it.But I should lose my self to speak him furtherAnd stale in my relation, the much goodYou may be witness of, if your removeFrom Bruges be not speedy.1 Mer. This reportI do assure you will not hasten it,Nor would I wish a better man to deal withFor what I am to part with.3 Mer. Never doubt it,He is your man and ours, only I wishHis too much forwardness to embrace all bargainsSink him not in the end.2 Mer. Have better hopes,For my part I am confident; here he comes.

Enter Goswin, and the fourth Merchant.

Gos. I take it at your own rates, your wine of Cyprus,But for your Candy sugars, they have metWith such foul weather, and are priz'd so highI cannot save in them.4 Mer. I am unwillingTo seek another Chapman: make me offerOf something near price, that may assure meYou can deal for them.Gos. I both can, and will,But not with too much loss; your bill of ladingSpeaks of two hundred chests, valued by youAt thirty thousand gilders, I will have themAt twenty eight; so, in the payment ofThree thousand sterling, you fall only inTwo hundred pound.4 Mer. You know, they are so cheap.—Gos. Why look you; I'le deal fa[ir]ly, there's in prison,And at your suit, a Pirat, but unableTo make you satisfaction, and past hopeTo live a week, if you should prosecuteWhat you can prove against him: set him free,And you shall have your mony to a Stiver,And present payment.4 Mer. This is above wonder,A Merchant of your rank, that have at SeaSo many Bottoms in the danger ofThese water-Thieves, should be a means to save 'em,It more importing you for your own safetyTo be at charge to scour the Sea of themThan stay the sword of justice, that is readyTo fall on one so conscious of his guiltThat he dares not deny it.Gos. You mistake me,If you think I would cherish in this CaptainThe wrong he did to you, or any man;I was lately with him, (having first, from othersTrue testimony been assured a manOf more desert never put from the shore)I read his letters of Mart from this State grantedFor the recovery of such losses, asHe had receiv'd in Spain, 'twas that he aim'd at,Not at three tuns of wine, bisket, or beef,Which his necessity made him take from you.If he had pillag'd you near, or sunk your ship,Or thrown your men o'r-board, then he deserv'dThe Laws extreamest rigour. But since wantOf what he could not live without, compel'd himTo that he did (which yet our State calls death)I pity his misfortune; and to work youTo some compassion of them, I come upTo your own price: save him, the goods are mine;If not, seek else-where, I'le not deal for them.4 Mer. Well Sir, for your love, I will once be ledTo change my purpose.Gos. For your profit rather.4 Mer. I'le presently make means for his discharge,Till when, I leave you.2 Mer. What do you think of this?1 Mer. As of a deed of noble pity: guidedBy a strong judgement.2 Mer. Save you Master Goswin.Goswin. Good day to all.2 Mer. We bring you the refusalOf more Commodities.Gos. Are you the ownersOf the ship that last night put into the Harbour?1 Mer. Both of the ship, and lading.Gos. What's the fraught?1 Mer. Indico, Cochineel, choise Chyna stuffs.3 Mer. And cloath of Gold brought from Cambal.Gos. Rich lading,For which I were your Chapman, but I amAlready out of cash.1 Mer. I'le give you dayFor the moiety of all.Gos. How long?3 Mer. Six months.Gos. 'Tis a fair offer: which (if we agreeAbout the prices) I, with thanks accept of,And will make present payment of the rest;Some two hours hence I'le come aboard.1 Mer. The Gunner shall speak you welcom.Gos. I'le not fail.3 Mer. Good morrow. [Ex. Merch.Gos. Heaven grant my Ships a safe return, beforeThe day of this great payment: as they areExpected three months sooner: and my creditStands good with all the world.

Enter Gerrard.

Ger. Bless my good Master,The prayers of your poor Beads-man ever shallBe sent up for you.Gos. God o' mercy Clause,There's something to put thee in mind hereafterTo think of me.Ger. May he that gave it youReward you for it, with encrease, good Master.Gos. I thrive the better for thy prayers.Ger. I hope so.This three years have I fed upon your bounties,And by the fire of your blest charity warm'd me,And yet, good Master, pardon me, that must,Though I have now receiv'd your alms, presumeTo make one sute more to you.Gos. What is't Clause?Ger. Yet do not think me impudent I beseech you,Since hitherto your charity hath preventedMy begging your relief, 'tis not for monyNor cloaths (good Master) but your good word for me.Gos. That thou shalt have, Clause, for I think thee honest.Ger. To morrow then (dear M'r.) take the troubleOf walking early unto Beggars Bush,And as you see me, among others (BrethrenIn my affliction) when you are demandedWhich you like best among us, point out me,And then pass by, as if you knew me not.Gos. But what will that advantage thee?Ger. O much Sir,'Twill give me the preheminence of the rest,Make me a King among 'em, and protect meFrom all abuse, such as are stronger, mightOffer my age; Sir, at your better leisureI will inform you further of the goodIt may do to me.Gos. 'Troth thou mak'st me wonder;Have you a King and common-wealth among you?Ger. We have, and there are States are govern'd worse.Gos. Ambition among Beggars?Ger. Many great onesWould part with half their states, to have the place,And credit to beg in the first file, Master:But shall I be so much bound to your furtheranceIn my Petition?Gos. That thou shalt not miss of,Nor any worldly care make me forget it, I will be early there.Ger. Heaven bless my Master. [Exeunt.

ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA PRIMA

Enter Higgen, Ferret, Prig, Clause, Jaculine, Snap, Ginks, and other beggars.

Hig. Come Princes of the ragged regiment,You o' the blood, Prig my most upright Lord,And these (what name or title, e're they bear)Jarkman, or Patrico, Cranke, or Clapperdudgeon, Frater, or Abram-man;I speak to allThat stand in fair Election for the titleOf King of Beggars, with the command adjoyning, Higgen, yourOrator, in this Inter-regnum,That whilom was your Dommerer, doth beseech youAll to stand fair, and put your selves in rank,That the first Comer, may at his first viewMake a free choice, to say up the question.Fer. Pr. 'Tis done Lord Higgen.Hig. Thanks to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret.Fer. Well, pray my Masters all, Ferret be chosen,Y'are like to have a mercifull mild Prince of me.Prig. A very tyrant, I, an arrant tyrant,If e're I come to reign; therefore look to't,Except you do provide me hum enoughAnd Lour to bouze with: I must have my CaponsAnd Turkeys brought me in, with my green Geese,And Ducklings i'th' season: fine fat chickens,Or if you chance where an eye of tame PhesantsOr Partridges are kept, see they be mine,Or straight I seize on all your priviledge,Places, revenues, offices, as forfeit,Call in your crutches, wooden legs, false bellyes,Forc'd eyes and teeth, with your dead arms; not leave youA durty clout to beg with o' your heads,Or an old rag with Butter, Frankincense,Brimston and Rozen, birdlime, blood, and cream,To make you an old sore; not so much soapAs you may fome with i'th' Falling-sickness;The very bag you bear, and the brown dishShall be escheated. All your daintiest Dells tooI will deflower, and take your dearest DoxyesFrom your warm sides; and then some one cold nightI'le watch you what old barn you go to roost in,And there I'le smother you all i'th' musty hay.Hig. This is tyrant-like indeed:But what would Ginks Or Clause be here, if either of them should raign?Clau. Best ask an Ass, if he were made a Camel,What he would be; or a dog, and he were a Lyon.Ginks. I care not what you are, Sirs, I shall beA Beggar still I am sure, I find my self there.

Enter Goswin.

Snap. O here a Judge comes.Hig. Cry, a Judge, a Judge.Gos. What ail you Sirs? what means this outcry?Hig. Master,A sort of poor souls met: Gods fools, good Master,Have had some little variance amongst our selvesWho should be honestest of us, and which livesUprightest in his calling: Now, 'cause we thoughtWe ne're should 'gree on't our selves, becauseIndeed 'tis hard to say: we all dissolv'd, to put itTo him that should come next, and that's your Master-ship,Who, I hope, will 'termine it as your mind serves you,Right, and no otherwise we ask it: which?Which does your worship think is he? sweet MasterLook over us all, and tell us; we are seven of us,Like to the seven wise Masters, or the Planets.Gos. I should judge this the man with the grave beard,And if he be not—Clau. Bless you, good Master, bless you.Gos. I would he were: there's something too amongst youTo keep you all honest. [Exit.Snap. King of Heaven go with you.Omn. Now good reward him,May he never want it, to comfort still the poor, in a good hour.Fer. What is't? see: Snap has got it.Snap. A good crown, marry.Prig. A crown of gold.Fer. For our new King: good luck.Ginks. To the common treasury with it; if't be gold,Thither it must.Prig. Spoke like a Patriot, Ferret—King Clause, I bid God save thee first, first, Clause,After this golden token of a crown;Where's oratour Higgen with his gratuling speech nowIn all our names?Fer. Here he is pumping for it.Gin. H'has cough'd the second time, 'tis but once moreAnd then it comes.Fer. So, out with all: expect now—Hig. That thou art chosen, venerable Clause,Our King and Soveraign; Monarch o'th'Maunders,Thus we throw up our Nab-cheats, first for joy,And then our filches; last, we clap our fambles,Three subject signs, we do it without envy:For who is he here did not wish thee chosen,Now thou art chosen? ask 'em: all will say so,Nay swear't: 'tis for the King, but let that pass.When last in conference at the bouzing kenThis other day we sat about our dead PrinceOf famous memory: (rest go with his rags:)And that I saw thee at the tables end,Rise mov'd, and gravely leaning on one Crutch,Lift the other like a Scepter at my head,I then presag'd thou shortly wouldst be King,And now thou art so: but what need presageTo us, that might have read it in thy beardAs well, as he that chose thee? by that beardThou wert found out, and mark'd for Soveraignty.O happy beard! but happier Prince, whose beardWas so remark'd, as marked out our Prince,Not bating us a hair. Long may it grow,And thick, and fair, that who lives under it,May live as safe, as under Beggars Bush,Of which this is the thing, that but the type.Om. Excellent, excellent orator, forward good Higgen,Give him leave to spit: the fine, well-spoken Higgen.Hig. This is the beard, the bush, or bushy-beard,Under whose gold and silver raign 'twas saidSo many ages since, we all should smileOn impositions, taxes, grievances,Knots in a State, and whips unto a Subject,Lye lurking in this beard, but all kemb'd out:If now, the Beard be such, what is the PrinceThat owes the Beard? a Father; no, a Grand-father;Nay the great Grand-father of you his people.He will not force away your hens, your bacon,When you have ventur'd hard for't, nor take from youThe fattest of your puddings: under himEach man shall eat his own stolen eggs, and butter,In his own shade, or sun-shine, and enjoyHis own dear Dell, Doxy, or Mort, at nightIn his own straw, with his own shirt, or sheet,That he hath filch'd that day, I, and possessWhat he can purchase, back, or belly-cheatsTo his own prop: he will have no purveyersFor Pigs, and poultry.Clau. That we must have, my learned oratour,It is our will, and every man to keep In his own path and circuit.Hig. Do you hear? You must hereafter maund on your own pads he saies.Clau. And what they get there, is their own, besidesTo give good words.Hig. Do you mark? to cut been whids,That is the second Law.Clau. And keep a-footThe humble, and the common phrase of begging,Lest men discover us.Hig. Yes; and cry sometimes,To move compassion: Sir, there is a table,That doth command all these things, and enjoyns 'em,Be perfect in their crutches, their feign'd plaisters,And their torn pass-ports, with the ways to stammer,And to be dumb, and deaf, and blind, and lame,There, all the halting paces are set down,I'th' learned language.Clau. Thither I refer them,Those, you at leisure shall interpret to them.We love no heaps of laws, where few will serve.Om. O gracious Prince, 'save, 'save the good King Clause.Hig. A Song to crown him.Fer. Set a Centinel out first.Snap. The word?Hig. A Cove comes, and fumbumbis to it.– Strike.The SONGCast our Caps and cares away: this is Beggars Holy-day,At the Crowning of our King, thus we ever dance and sing.In the world look out and see: where's so happy a Prince as he?Where the Nation live so free, and so merry as do we?Be it peace, or be it war, here at liberty we are,And enjoy our ease and rest; To the field we are not prest;Nor are call'd into the Town, to be troubled with the Gown.Hang all Officers we cry, and the Magistrate too, by;When the Subsidie's encreast, we are not a penny Sest.Nor will any go to Law, with the Beggar for a straw.All which happiness he brags, he doth owe unto his rags._

Enter Snap, Hubert, and Hemskirke.