Imatges de pàgina

MASTER Blount. Drudge, dost thou say?

Mistress Blount. Ay, drudge! and say't again.

Master BLOUNT.
His brother drudges.

Mistress Blount.
So his brother may:
It is his humour; he's his father's son.

Master Blount.
Whom takes the other after ?

Whom?-why me!
I tell thee, Thomas is his mother's son,-
No handicraft will be make progress in ;
Money he values for the using on't-
Would buy a coach and horses in the time
Thou balancest the outlay of a truck !

Master Blount.
A hopeful son, methinks, has Master Blount,
The Ludgate jeweller.

Mistress Blount.
Most hopeful, John ;
But not in the shape thou wishest hope to come in,
With sleek comb'd hair and pondrous busy brow,
Scanning a bodkin to resolve him whether
'Tis gold or pinchbeck !-I forgot !—Thy hope
Hath comely apron on !-Now look at mine!
A youth of standard height! proportioned well
In trunk and limb! Of handsome face and bold !
Very! A cap and plume upon his head,
Across his field of breast a scarf and belt,
And in the belt a sword, as fits a man!

Master Blount. What cavalier is this?

Mistress Blount. What cavalier ? Thou knowest not thine own son, husband John! I lose all patience with thee! Listen now! Thou hast a son whom fortune meant to climb, And thou would'st have to creep!- What use is he In thy shop or workshop where thou cast'st him when He came from school, as metal that is fused Into the mould, thinking he'd take what shape It pleased thee give him? Flesh and blood are not So passive, John !-How little knowest thou, Dear John, beyond thy trade! Nine months ago

Lapsed his apprenticeship of seven long years, .
And earns he now the keep of journeyman ?
No !-do I blame him? No!-when thou get'st gold
To do the work of lead I'll blame him, John,
But not till then.

Master BLOUNT.
The fault is thine.

Mistress Blount.
Is mine!
Am I in fault?

Master Blount.
I say,

Mistress Blount. Am I in fault?

Master Blount. I won't say fault.

Go on.

Master BLOUNT.
Thou hast him taught
The ways of gentlemen. Contents thee not
He learn our homely measures, he must skip
As courtiers do, so ihou provid'st him with
A foreign dancing-master! Not enough
The jockey taught his brother should teach him,
Behoves him have a soldier's seat, and so
Thou get'st a regimental riding-master !

Mistress Blount.
Proceed, good husband John.

Master BLOUNT.
It pleased thee not
Dick Cottingham should teach him quarter-staff.

Mistress Blount.
Dick Cottingham !—I'd beat Dick Cottingham
At quarter-staff myself!-

Master Blount.
Thou must employ
Professionals in that.

Mistress Blount.
Teach a boy right,
Or not at all! Go on!

From quarter-staff
He needs must to the rapier go.

Mistress Blount.
No doubt.

Master BLOUNT.
The which—not satisfied the boy should get

A simple notion on't-he practises
Till he can beat his master.

Mistress Blount.
Art not glad
Of that?-Art thou not glad on't, husband Jolin?
The day will come, and mind my words it will,
When thou wilt chuckle at it !-chuckle, husband !
Thy boy can beat his master !-who'll beat him?

Master Blount.
John is as good a boy!

Who cheapens John ?
What loss to him his brother gets his due ?
He likes the inside of the counter! Well,
He has it! Thomas likes the other side!
And yet thou know'st not John! Tho' he's my son,
He is cunning. 'Tis not natural in one
So young in years to be in acts so old.
The husbandman prefers a backward spring!
The fruit is doubted comes before its time!
Did John observe thee less, 'twould please me more !
What would'st thou say now should I tell thee plain
His fancies look a mile beyond the shop,
In which thou think'st his heart wrapp'd wholly up?
'Tis so: he'd laugh to throw the apron off
He smiles at putting on !

Thou wrong'st him, wife.

Believe so, as thou wilt - let me know Thomas.
He'll ne'er ply craft, but be a gentleman.
That time is come with you, and still you toil.

Master BLOUNT.
I'll think on what thou say'st.

So, husband, do.
The man who has a wife hath counsel, John,

At hand that's ever better than his own!” Lady Anne describes the young jeweller, and Lady Blanche tells a story :

“ A youth misused of fate to set him, where
Behoved his betters rather wait than he!
A lofty forehead, like a marble dome
For princely thoughts to dwell in! Eyes to court
Challenge of war or love, showing themselves
Frankly and boldly at their posts—a nose
Of the fine Grecian with a touch of Rome,

Elegance crown'd with strength ; a mouth composed
Of lips were fashion'd after Cupid's bow,
And, like it, made to send his arrow home,
Wing'd with their dulcet twang! Ambitious chin
Dimpled and knobb'd like pattern Antinous !
There is his face, which well his neck and bust
Deserved : as for the rest of him, you know
The counter hid him from us.

Counter like,
In calculation of the drawback, doubtless,
His head and bust had suffer'd through the fault
Of his mis-shapen legs. I should not wonder
Had he clubb'd feet.

Have you not seen his feet?
Come! Did you never on adventure go
A-shopping there again?

Well, Anne, I did !
Again, and yet again. Nay, do not laugh,
'Twas only to enjoy the goldsmith's blush !

Lady Anne.
There, Blanche! Just now you could not find the shop!

LADY BLANCHE. Well! things will jump into one's memory When least we look for them. Why do you laugh ? Don't laugh, dear Anne, and I will tell you more! I took the goldsmith to my milliner's One day when he perforce would see me home : A yeoman's daughter could not well, you know, O'errule a goldsmith's son. Well, at the door In vain I dropp'd him court'sy after court'sy, In linsey-woolsey mode! He would not go. “He must have speech with me a minute !” “ Nay!” “ Indeed, he must.” Then said I, “ Nay,” again. “ He must in pity." Still did I say, “ Nay." But what's the use of “nay,” said fifty times, If“ yes” at last will come and come it did : “ He might have speech a minute !” What's a minute ? A portion of an hour ! A portion gone, The hour is broken! What's the value of A broken thing?-as well he have the hour! The hour he had! The goldsmith's son was smitten; Love at first sight!—The arrow in the core ! Whereat the maid amused-it may be pleased ; Touch'd, will you have it so.-Well, she was touch'd ! Did after grant the goldsmith divers meetings,

Listening in silence to his rhapsodies N. S.--VOL. VI.

3 B

In rustic cloak, with hood drawn o'er her head,
Her face but half revealing! Till, at length,
Feeling a something—nothing like a passion!-
Perhaps an interest-yes; like that one watches
The progress of a pleasant story with,
But which indulging is but waste of time;
Having a horror, too, of slavery-
No matter how far out of reach of it;
And, then, besides, admonish'd by my rank;
At last I took the resolution
To drop the masquerade-although, I own,
With some compunction.

He deserved some.

Why, was he not a man ! He proved he was !
Made out his right and title. Took his leave
Without good-bye; by word or yet by missive;
Since when I ne'er have met him. 'Twas as well,

Although it mortified me!-Nothing more."
Equally fine is Lady Anne's reproof of Sir Philip's foppery:-

“What shall I call thee now? Ware from the milliner's, the tailor's, or The cordwainer's, or jeweller's, or what? Thyself is the least part of thee! The man Is trimmings to the dress.—Thou art a ruff Of plaits elaborate and infinite; Thy vest, for curiosity of style, Armour of diamonds upon velvet plaited, Were better given a cabinet to keep As theme for wonderment to after time, Than left provision for the hungry air That's sure to eat it up! Thy jerkin runs Enormous risk from thy ambition ! trying With satin slashes, ribbon-knots, and lace, How close to woman's gear a man's may come. And still appear a man's--thy trunks partake Its divers sins; and for thy hose, who says, In town or out of town, thou walk'st not in A shrubbery, why let bim own he is blind, To save his credit for veracity! Thy very rapier would abjure the man ! Its handle vouches for the laceman more Than the cutler-nay, nor him beside alone; 'Twas plann'd in concert with a milliner ! Which of the precious metals has the honour To help it to a blade? It cannot be A thing so exquisitely delicate Could pair with homely steel?

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