Eastward Ho ~ Prologue & Act 1. Scene 1

THE SCENE— London and Thames-side.

PROLOGUS

Not out of envy, for there's no effect
Where there's no cause; nor out of imitation,
For we have evermore been imitated;
Nor out of our contention to do better
Than that which is oppos'd to ours in title,
For that was good; and better cannot be:
And, for the title, if it seem affected,
We might as well have call'd it, "God you good even:"
Only that eastward westwards still exceeds —
Honor the sun's fair rising, not his setting.
Nor is our title utterly enforc'd,
As by the points we touch at you shall see.
Bear with our willing pains, if dull or witty;
We only dedicate it to the City.

ACT I — SCENE I.

Enter MASTER TOUCHSTONE and QUICKSILVER at several doors, QUICKSILVER with his hat, pumps, short sword and dagger, and a racket trussed up under his cloak. At the middle door, enter GOLDING, discovering a goldsmith's shop and walking short turns before it.

Touch.
And whither with you now? what loose action are you bound for? Come, what comrades are you to meet withal? where's the supper? where's the rendezvous?

Quick.
Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir ——

Touch.
"Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir!" Behind my back thou wilt swear faster than a French footboy, and talk more bawdily than a common midwife; and now "indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir!" But, if a privy search should be made, with what furniture are you rigg'd now? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy master, William Touchstone, goldsmith; and thou my prentice, Francis Quicksilver; and I will see whither you are running. Work upon that now!

Quick.
Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation with his master's profit.

Touch.
Prentices' recreations are seldom with their masters' profit. Work upon that now! You shall give up your cloak, though you be no alderman. — (TOUCHSTONE uncloaks QUICKSILVER.) Heyday! Ruffians Hall! Sword, pumps, here's a racket indeed!

Quick.
Work upon that now!

Touch.
Thou shameless varlet! dost thou jest at thy lawful master, contrary to thy indentures?

Quick.
Why, 'zblood, sir! my mother's a gentlewoman, and my father a justice of peace and of quorum; and, though I am a younger brother and a prentice, yet I hope I am my father's son; and by God's lid, 't is for your worship and for your commodity that I keep company. I am entertain'd among gallants, true; they call me cousin Frank, right; I lend them moneys, good; they spend it, well. But, when they are spent, must not they strive to get more? Must not their land fly? — and to whom? Shall not your Worship ha' the refusal? Well, I am a good member of the City, if I were well considered. How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthrifts? How could gentlemen be unthrifts if their humors were not fed? How should their humors be fed but by whitemeat and cunning secondings? Well, the City might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now: the gallants fall to play; I carry light gold with me. The gallants call, "Cousin Frank, some gold for silver;" I change, gain by it; the gallants lose the gold, and then call, "Cousin Frank, lend me some silver." Why ——

Touch.
Why? I cannot tell. Seven score pound art thou out in the cash; but look to it, I will not be gallanted out of my moneys. And, as for my rising by other men's fall, God shield me! Did I gain my wealth by ordinaries? no! by exchanging of gold? no! by keeping of gallants' company? no! I hired me a little shop, fought low, took small gain, kept no debt book, garnished my shop, for want of plate, with good wholesome thrifty sentences: as, "Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;" "Light gains makes heavy purses;" "'T is good to be merry and wise." And, when I was wiv'd, having something to stick to, I had the horn of suretyship ever before my eyes. — [ to the audience ] You all know the device of the horn, where the young fellow slips in at the butt end, and comes squeez'd out at the buccal. — And I grew up, and, I praise Providence, I bear my brows now as high as the best of my neighbors: but thou — well, look to the accounts; your father's bond lies for you: seven score pound is yet in the rear.

Quick.
Why, 'slid, sir, I have as good, as proper gallants' words for it as any are in London — gentlemen of good phrase, perfect language, passingly behav'd; gallants that wear socks and clean linen, and call me "kind cousin Frank," "good cousin Frank," for they know my father: and, by God's lid, shall not I trust 'em? — not trust?

Enter a Page, as inquiring for Touchstone's shop.

Gold.
What do ye lack, sir? what is 't you'll buy, sir?

Touch.
Ay, marry sir; there's a youth of another piece. There's thy fellow-prentice, as good a gentleman born as thou art: nay, and better mean'd. But does he pump it, or racket it? Well, if he thrive not, if he outlast not a hundred such crackling bavins as thou art, God and men neglect industry.

Gold.
( to the Page) It is his shop, and here my master walks.

Touch.
With me, boy?

Page.
My master, Sir Petronel Flash, recommends his love to you, and will instantly visit you.

Touch.
To make up the match with my eldest daughter, my wife's dilling, whom she longs to call madam. — He shall find me unwillingly ready, boy. ( Exit Page.) — [ to the audience ] There's another affliction too. As I have two prentices, the one of a boundless prodigality, the other of a most hopeful industry, so have I only two daughters: the eldest, of a proud ambition and nice wantonness; the other, of a modest humility and comely soberness. The one must be ladyfied, forsooth, and be attir'd just to the court cut and long tail. So far is she ill-natur'd to the place and means of my preferment and fortune that she throws all the contempt and despite hatred itself can cast upon it. Well, a piece of land she has; 't was her grandmother's gift; let her and her Sir Petronel flash out that; but, as for my substance, she that scorns me, as I am a citizen and tradesman, shall never pamper her pride with my industry, shall never use me as men do foxes — keep themselves warm in the skin, and throw the body that bare it to the dunghill. I must go entertain this Sir Petronel. — Golding, my utmost care 's for thee, and only trust in thee; look to the shop. — As for you, Master Quicksilver, think of husks, for thy course is running directly to the prodigal's hogs' trough; husks, sirrah! Work upon that now!

Exit TOUCHSTONE

Quick.
Marry faugh, Goodman Flat-cap! 'Sfoot! though I am a prentice, I can give arms; and my father's a justice a' peace by descent, and, 'zblood! —

Gold.
Fie, how you swear!

Quick.
'Sfoot, man, I am a gentleman, and may swear by my pedigree, God's my life! Sirrah Golding, wilt be ruled by a fool? Turn good fellow, turn swaggering gallant, and "let the welkin roar, and Erebus also." Look not westward to the fall of Don Phœbus, but to the east — Eastward Ho!

Where radiant beams of lusty Sol appear,
And bright Eous makes the welkin clear.We are both gentlemen, and therefore should be no coxcombs; let's be no longer fools to this flat-cap, Touchstone, — Eastward, bully! — this satin belly and canvas-back'd Touchstone. 'S life, man! his father was a malt man, and his mother sold gingerbread in Christ Church.

Gold.
What would ye ha' me do?

Quick.
Why, do nothing; be like a gentleman, be idle; the curse of man is labor. Wipe thy bum with testones, and make ducks and drakes with shillings. What, Eastward Ho! Wilt thou cry, "What is 't ye lack?" — stand with a bare pate and a dropping nose, under a wooden penthouse, and art a gentleman? Wilt thou bear tankards, and mayst bear arms? Be rul'd; turn gallant. Eastward Ho! — Ta ly re, ly re ro! "Who calls Jeronimo? Speak, here I am." — Gods-so! how like a sheep thou look'st; a' my conscience, some cowherd begot thee, thou Golding of Golding Hall! Ha, boy?

Gold.
Go; ye are a prodigal coxcomb! I a cowherd's son, because I turn not a drunken, whore-hunting rakehell like thyself?

Quick.
Rakehell? rakehell?

Offers to draw, and GOLDING trips
up his heels and holds him.

Gold.
Pish, in soft terms, ye are a cowardly, bragging boy. I'll ha' you whipp'd.

Quick.
Whipp'd? — that's good, i' faith! Untruss me!

Gold.
No, thou wilt undo thyself. Alas! I behold thee with pity, not with anger; thou common shot-clog, gull of all companies; methinks I see thee already walking in Moorfields without a cloak, with half a hat, without a band, a doublet with three buttons, without a girdle, a hose with one point, and no garter, with a cudgel under thine arm, borrowing and begging threepence.

Takes his sword, and releases him.

Quick.
Nay, 'slife! take this and take all. As I am a gentleman born, I'll be drunk, grow valiant, and beat thee.

Exit.

Gold.
Go, thou most madly vain, whom nothing can recover but that which reclaims atheists, and makes great persons sometimes religious — calamity. As for my place and life, thus I read:

Whate'er some vainer youth may term disgrace,
The gain of honest pains is never base;
From trades, from arts, from valor, honor springs;
These three are founts of gentry, yea, of kings.

Exit.