A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II by Robert Dodsley

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FINIS.

THE MARRIAGE OF WIT AND SCIENCE.

[The title of the old copy is: _A new and Pleasaunt_ enterlude
intituled the mariage of Witte and Science. Imprinted at London in
Flete Streete, neare vnto sainct Dunstones churche by Thomas Marshe.
4 deg., black letter.

There is no date, but the size is a small 4to, and it probably appeared
in 1570, having been licensed in 1569-70 to Marsh. Some further
particulars of the play, now first reprinted from the only known copy
in the Malone collection at Oxford, may be found in Hazlitt's
"Handbook," 1867, p. 465; Collier's "Extr. from the Stat. Reg.,"
i. 204; and Collier's "Hist. Engl. Dram. Poetry," ii. 341-7, where
there is a somewhat long review of the piece, with extracts. Mr
Collier, who bestows considerable praise on this interlude, observes:
--"The moral play of 'The Marriage of Wit and Science' contains a
remarkable external feature not belonging to any other piece of this
class that I remember to have met with: it is regularly divided into
five acts, and each of the scenes is also marked." The anonymous author
appears to have borrowed to some extent from the older performance by
John Redford, printed from a MS. by the Shakespeare Society in 1848;
but the two productions must, nevertheless, be regarded as distinct and
independent.]

THE PLAYERS' NAMES.

NATURE.
WIT.
WILL.
STUDY.
DILIGENCE, _with three other women singers_.
SCIENCE.
REASON.
EXPERIENCE.
RECREATION.
SHAME.
IDLENESS.
IGNORANCE.
TEDIOUSNESS.
INSTRUCTION.

THE MARRIAGE OF WIT AND SCIENCE.

[ACT I.]

NATURE, WIT, _and_ WILL.

Grand lady, mother of every mortal thing:
Nurse of the world, conservative of kind:
Cause of increase, of life and soul the spring;
At whose instinct the noble heaven doth wind,
To whose award all creatures are assigned,
I come in place to treat with this my son,
For his avail how he the path may find,
Whereby his race in honour he may run:
Come, tender child, unripe and green for age,
In whom the parent sets her chief delight,
Wit is thy name, but far from wisdom sage,
Till tract of time shall work and frame aright,
This peerless brain, not yet in perfect plight:
But when it shall be wrought, methinks I see,
As in a glass beforehand with my sight,
A certain perfect piece of work in thee,
And now so far as I [can] guess by signs,
Some great attempt is fixed in thy breast:
Speak on, my son, whereto thy heart inclines,
And let me deal to set thy heart at rest.
He salves the sore, that knows the patient best:
As I do thee, my son, my chiefest care,
In whom my special praise and joy doth rest;
To me therefore these thoughts of thine declare.

WIT.
Nature, my sovereign queen and parent passing dear,
Whose force I am enforced to know and 'knowledge everywhere,
This care of mine, though it be bred within my breast,
Yet it is not so ripe as yet to breed me great unrest,
So run I to and fro with hap luck as I find,
Now fast, now loose: now hot, now cold: inconstant as the wind,
I feel myself in love, yet not inflamed so,
But causes move me now and then to let such fancies go,
Which causes prevailing sets each thing else in doubt
Much like the nail, that last came in, and drives the former out.
Wherefore my suit is this: that it would please your grace
To settle this unsettled head in some assured place:
To lead me through the thick, to guide me all the way,
To point me where I may achieve my most desired pray,
For now again of late I kindle in desire,
And pleasure pricketh forth my youth to feel a greater fire.
What though I be too young to show her sport in bed,
Yet are there many in this land that at my years do wed,
And though I wed not yet, yet am I old enou'
To serve my lady to my power, and to begin to woo.

NATURE.
What is that lady, son, which thus thy heart doth move?

WIT.
A lady, whom it might beseem high Jove himself to love.

NATURE.
Who taught thee her to love, or hast thou seen her face?

WIT.
Nor this nor that, but I heard men talk of her apace.

NATURE.
What is her name?

WIT.
Reason is her sire, Experience her dame,
The lady now is in her flower, and Science is her name.
Lo, where she dwells; lo, where my heart is all possest;
Lo, where my body would abide; lo, where my soul doth rest.
Her have I borne good-will these many years tofore,
But now she lodgeth in my thought a hundred parts the more,
And since I do persuade myself that this is she,
Which ought above all earthly wights to be most dear to me;
And since I wot not how to compass my desire,
And since for shame I cannot now nor mind not to retire,
Help on, I you beseech, and bring this thing about
Without your hurt to my great ease, and set all out of doubt.

NATURE.
Thou askest more than is in me to give,
More than thy cause, more than thy state, will bear,
They are two things to able thee to live,
And to live so, that none should be thy peer,
The first from me proceedeth everywhere;
But this by toil and practice of the mind,
Is set full far, God wot, and bought full dear,
By those that seek the fruit thereof to find,
To match thee then with Science in degree,
To knit that knot that few may reach unto,
I tell thee plain, it lieth not in me.
Why should I challenge that I cannot do?
But thou must take another way to woo,
And beat thy brain, and bend thy curious head,
Both ride and run, and travel to and fro,
If thou intend that famous dame to wed.

WIT.
You name yourself the lady of this world.

NATURE.
It is true.

WIT.
And can there be within this world a thing too hard for you?

NATURE.
My power it is not absolute in jurisdiction,
For I cognise another lord above,
That hath received unto his disposition
The soul of man, which he of special love
To gifts of grace and learning eke doth move.
A work so far beyond my reach and call,
That into part of praise with him myself to show
Might soon procure my well-deserved fall:
He makes the frame, and [I] receive it so,
No jot therein altered for my head;
And as I it receive, I let it go,
Causing therein such sparkles to be bred,
As he commits to me, by whom I must be led:
Who guides me first, and in me guides the rest,
All which in their due course and kind are spread
Of gifts from me such as may serve them best,
To thee, son Wit, he will'd me to inspire,
The love of knowledge and certain seeds divine,
Which ground might be a mean to bring thee here,
If thereunto thyself thou wilt incline:
The massy gold the cunning hand makes fine:
Good grounds are till'd, as well as are the worst,
The rankest flower will ask a springing time;
So is man's wit unperfit at the first.

WIT.
If cunning be the key and well of wordly[382] bliss
Me-thinketh God might at the first as well endue all with this.

NATURE.
As cunning is the key of bliss, so it is worthy praise:
The worthiest things are won with pain in tract of time always.

WIT.
And yet right worthy things there are, you will confess, I trow,
Which notwithstanding at our birth God doth on us bestow.

NATURE.
There are; but such as unto you, that have the great to name,
I rather that bestow, than win thereby immortal fame.

WIT.
Fain would I learn what harm or detriment ensued,
If any man were at his birth with these good gifts endued.

NATURE.
There should be nothing left, wherein men might excel,
No blame for sin, no praise to them that had designed well:
Virtue should lose her price, and learning would abound;
And as man would admire the thing, that each-where might be found.
The great [e]state, that have of me and fortune what they will,
Should have no need to look to those, whose heads are fraught with skill.
The meaner sort, that now excels in virtues of the mind,
Should not be once accepted there, where now they succour find.
For great men should be sped of all, and would have need of none,
And he that were not born to land should lack to live upon.
These and five thousand causes mo, which I forbear to tell,
The noble virtue of the mind have caused there to dwell,
Where none may have access, but such as can get in
Through many double doors: through heat, through cold, through
thick and thin.

WIT.
Suppose I would address myself to seek her out,
And to refuse no pain that lieth thereabout;
Should I be sure to speed?

NATURE.
Trust me, and have no doubt,
Thou canst not choose but speed with travail and with time:
These two are they that must direct thee how to climb.

WIT.
With travail and with time? must they needs join in one?

NATURE.
Nor that nor this can do thee good, if they be took alone.

WIT.
Time worketh all with ease, and gives the greatest dint:
In him soft water drops can hollow hardest flint.
Again with labour by itself great matters compass'd be,
Even at a gird, in very little time or none we see.
Wherefore in my conceit good reason it is,
Either this without that to look, or that without this.

NATURE.
Set case thou didst attempt to climb Parnassus hill:
Take time five hundred thousand years and longer, if thou will,
Trowest thou to touch the top thereof by standing still?
Again work out thy heart, and spend thyself with toil:
Take time withal, or else I dare assure thee of the foil.

WIT.
Madam, I trust I have your licence and your leave,
With your good-will and so much help as you to me can give;
With further aid also, when you shall spy your time,
To make a proof to give attempt this famous hill to climb;
And now I here request your blessing and your prayer;
For sure, before I sleep, I will to yonder fort repair.

NATURE.
I bless thee here with all such gifts as nature can bestow,
And for thy sake I would they were as many hundred mo.
Take there withal this child, to wait upon thee still:
A bird of mine, some kin to thee: his name is Will.

WIT.
Welcome to me, my Will, what service canst thou do?

WILL.
All things forsooth, sir, when me list, and more too.

WIT.
But whether[383] wilt thou list, when I shall list, I trow?

WILL.
Trust not to that; peradventure yea, peradventure no.

WIT.
When I have need of thee, thou wilt not serve me so.

WILL.
If ye bid me run, perhaps I will go.

WIT.
Cock's soul, this is a boy for the nonce amongst twenty mo!

WILL.
I am plain, I tell you, at a word and a blow.

WIT.
Then must I prick you, child, if you be drown'd in sloth.

NATURE.
Agree, you twain, for I must leave you both;
Farewell, my son: farewell, mine own good Will,
Be ruled by Wit, and be obedient still;
Force thee I cannot, but as far as lies in me,
I will help thy master to make a good servant of thee.
Farewell--
[_Exit_.

WIT.
Adieu, lady mother, with thanks for all your pain;
And now let me bethink myself again and eke again,
To match with Science is the thing that I have took in hand:
A matter of more weight, I see, than I did understand.
Will must be won to this, or else it will be hard;
Will must go break the matter first, or else my game[384] is marr'd,
Sir boy, are you content to take such part for me,
As God shall send, and help it forth as much as lies in thee?

WILL.
Yea, master, by his wounds, or else cut off his head.

WIT.
Come then, and let us two devise what trace were best to tread;
Nature is on my side, and Will my boy is fast.
There is no doubt I shall obtain my joys at last.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT II, SCAENA 1.

WIT _and_ WILL.

WIT.
What, Will, I say, Will boy, come again, foolish elf!

WILL.
I cry you mercy, sir, you are a tall man yourself.

WIT.
Such a crackbrain as thou art, I never saw the like to it.

WILL.
Truth, in respect of you, that are nothing else but Wit!

WIT.
Canst thou tell me thy errand, because thou art gone so soon?

WILL.
I can remember a long tale of a man in the moon,
With such a circumstance and such flim-flam?
I will tell, at a word, whose servant I am:
Wherefore I come, and what I have to say,
And call for her answer, before I come away.
What, should I make a broad tree of every little shrub,
And keep her a great while with a tale of a tub?

WIT.
Yet thou must commend me to be rich, lusty, pleasant, and wise.

WILL.
I cannot commend you, but I must make twenty lies.
Rich, quoth you? that appeareth by the port that you keep:
Even as rich as a new-shorn sheep!
Of pleasant conceits, ten bushels to the peck,
Lusty like a herring, with a bell about his neck,
Wise as a woodcock: as brag as a bodylouse,
A man of your hands, to match with a mouse!
How say you, are not these proper qualities to praise you with?

WIT.
Leave these mad toys of thine, and come to the pith:
One part of the errand should have been
To give her this picture of mine to be seen,
And to request her the same to accept,
Safely until my coming to be kept,
Which I suspend till thy return, and then,
If it like her ladyship to appoint me where and when,
I will wait upon her gladly out of hand.

WILL.
Sir, let me alone: your mind I understand.
I will handle the matter, so that you shall owe me thanks,
But what, if she find fault with these spindle-shanks,
Or else with these black spots on your nose?

WIT.
In faith, sir boy, this talk deserveth blows.

WILL.
You will not misuse your best servant, I suppose?
For, by his nails and by his fingers too,
I will mar your marriage, if you do so.[385]

WIT.
I pray thee go thy ways, and leave this clatter.

WILL.
First shall I be so bold to break to you a matter.

WIT.
Tush, thou art disposed to spend words in waste,
And yet thou knowest this business asketh haste.

WILL.
But even two words, and then I am gone.

WIT.
If it be worth the hearing, say on.

WILL.
I would not have you think that I, for my part,
From my promise or from your service will depart,
But yet now and then it goeth to my heart,
When I think how this marriage may be to my smart.

WIT.
Why so?

WILL.
I would tell you the cause, if I durst for shame.

WIT.
Speak hardily what thou wilt without any blame.

WILL.
I am not disposed as yet to be tame,
And therefore I am loth to be under a dame,
Now you are a bachelor, a man may soon win you,
Me-thinks there is some good fellowship in you;
We may laugh and be merry at board and at bed,
You are not so testy as those that be wed.
Mild in behaviour and loth to fall out,
You may run, you may ride and rove round about,
With wealth at your will and all thing at ease,
Free, frank and lusty: easy to please.
But when you be clogged and tied by the toe,
So fast that you shall not have pow'r to let go,
You will tell me another lesson soon after.
And cry _peccavi_ too, except your luck be the better.
Then farewell good fellowship! then come at a call!
Then wait at an inch, you idle knaves all:
Then sparing and pinching, and nothing of gift:
No talk with our master, but all for his thrift!
Solemn and sour, and angry as a wasp,
All things must be kept under lock and hasp;
All[386] that which will make me to fare full ill.
All your care shall be to hamper poor Will.

WIT.
I warrant thee, for that take thou no thought,
Thou shalt be made of, whosoever be set at nought:
As dear to me, as mine own dear brother,
Whosoever be one, thou shalt be another.

WILL.
Yea, but your wife will play the shrew; perde, it is she that I fear.

WIT.
The message will cause her some favour to bear,
For my sake and thy sake, and for her own likewise,
If thou use thyself discreetly in this enterprise.

WILL.
She hath a father, a testy, sour old man:
I doubt lest he and I shall fall out now and then.

WIT.
Give him fair words, forbear him for his age;
Thou must consider him to be ancient and sage.
Shew thyself officious and serviceable still,
And then shall Reason make very much of Will.

WILL.
If your wife be ever complaining, how then?

WIT.
My wife will have nothing to do with my men.

WILL.
If she do, believe her not in any wise.
And when you once perceive her stomach to arise,
Then cut her short at the first, and you shall see
A marvellous virtue in that medicine to be.
Give her not the bridle for a year or twain,
And you shall see her bridle it without a rein,
Break her betimes, and bring her under by force,
Or else the grey mare will be the better horse.

WIT.
If thou have done, begone, and spend no time in vain.

WILL.
Where shall I find you, when I come again?

WIT.
At home.

WILL.
Good, enough, take your ease: let me alone with this.
[_Exit Wit_.
Surely a treasure of all treasures it is
To serve such a master, as I hope him to be,
And to have such a servant as he hath of me;
For I am quick, nimble, proper and nice;
He is full good, gentle, sober and wise.
He is full both to chide or to check,
And I am as willing to serve at a beck,
He orders me well, and speaks me so fair,
That for his sake no travail I must spare.
But now am I come to the gate of this lady,
I will pause a while to frame mine errant finely.
And lo, where she cometh; yet will I not come nigh her;
But among these fellows will I stand to eye her.

ACT II., SCAENA 2.

REASON, EXPERIENCE, SCIENCE, _and_ WILL.

SCIENCE.
My parents, ye know, how many fall and lapse,[387]
That do ascribe to me the cause of their mishaps?
How many seek, that come too short of their desire:
How many do attempt, that daily do retire.
How many rove about the mark on every side:
How many think to hit, when they are much too wide:
How many run too far, how many light too low:
How few to good effect their travail do bestow!
And how all these impute their losses unto me:
Should I have joy to think of marriage now, trow ye?
What saith[388] the world? my love alone, say they,
Is bought so dear, that life and goods for it must pay
Strong youth must spend itself, and yet, when all is done,
We hear of few or none, that have this lady won.
On me they make outcries, and charge me with the blood
Of those, that for my sake adventure life and good.
This grief doth wound my heart so, that suitors more as yet
I see no cause nor reason why I should admit.

REASON.
Ah, daughter, say not so; there is great cause and skill,
For which you should mislike to live unmarried thus alone,
What comfort can you have remaining thus unknown?
How shall the commonwealth by you advanced be,
If you abide inclosed here, where no man may you see?
It is not for your state yourself to take the pain:
All strangers shall resort to you to entertain.
To suffer free access of all that come and go:
To be at each man's call: to travel to and fro.
What then, since God hath plac'd such treasure in your breast,
Wherewith so many thousand think by you to be refresh'd,
Needs must you have some one of high and secret trust,
By whom these things may be well-order'd and discuss'd.
To him you must disclose the depth of all your thought;
By him, as time shall serve, all matters must be wrought:
To him alone you must content yourself to be at call;
Ye must be his, he must be yours, he must be all in all.

EXPERIENCE.
My lord, your father tells you truth, perde,
And that in time yourself shall find and try.

SCIENCE.
I could allege more than as yet I have said,
But I must yield, and you must be obey'd.
Fall out, as it will: there is no help, I see;
Some one or other in time must marry me.

WILL.
In time? nay, out of hand, madam, if it please you;
In faith, I know a younker that will ease you,
A lively young gentleman, as fresh as any flower,
That will not stick to marry you within this hour.

SCIENCE.
Such haste might haply turn to waste to some;
But I pray thee, my pretty boy, whence art thou come?

WILL.
If it please your good ladyship to accept me so,
I have a solemn message to tell, ere I go;
Not anything in secret your honour to stain,
But in the presence and hearing of you twain.

REASON.
Speak.

WILL.
The lady of this world, which lady Nature hight,
Hath one a peerless son, in whom she taketh delight,
On him she chargeth men to be attendant still,
Both kin[389] to her: his name is Wit, my name is Will.
The noble child doth feel the force of Cupid's flame,
And seeketh[390] now for ease, by counsel of his dame.
His mother taught him first to love, while he was young:
Which love with age increaseth sore, and waxeth wondrous strong;
For very fame displays your bounty more and more,
And at this pinch he burneth so as never heretofore.
Not fantasies forsooth,[391] not vain and idle toys of love;
Not hope of that which commonly doth other suitors move;
But fixed fast good-will that never shall relent,
And virtue's force, that shines in you, bad him give this attempt.
He hath no need of wealth, he wooes not for your good;
His kindred is such he need not to seek to match with noble blood,
Such store of friends that, where he list, he may command,
And none so hardy to presume his pleasure to withstand.
Yourself it is, [madam,] your virtue and your grace,
Your noble gifts, your endless praise in every place:
You alone, I say, the mark that he would hit,
The hoped joy, the dearest prey, that can befal to Wit.

EXPERIENCE.
I have not heard a message more trimly done.

SCIENCE.
Nor I; what age art thou of, my good son?

WILL.
Between eleven and twelve, madam, more or less.

REASON.
He hath been instructed this errand, as I guess.

SCIENCE.
How old is the gentleman thy master, canst thou tell?

WILL.
Seventeen or thereabout, I wot not very well.

SCIENCE.
What stature, of what making, what kind of port bears he?

WILL.
Such as your ladyship cannot mislike, trust me.
Well-grown, well-made, a stripling clean and tall:
Well-favoured, somewhat black, and manly therewithal;
And that you may conceive his personage the better,
Lo, here of him the very shape and lively picture!
This hath he sent to you to view and to behold:
I dare advouch no joint therein, no jot, to be controll'd.

SCIENCE.
In good faith, I thank thy master with my heart;
I perceive that nature in him hath done her part.

WILL.
Farther, if it please your honour to know:
My master would be glad to run, ride, or go,
At your commandment to any place far or near,
To have but a sight of your ladyship there.
I beseech you appoint him the place and the hour,
You shall see, how readily to you he will scour.

REASON.
Do so.

EXPERIENCE.
Yea, in any wise, daughter; for, hear you me,
He seemeth a right worthy and trim young man to be.

SCIENCE.
Commend me then to Wit, and let him understand,
That I accept with all my heart this present at his hand,
And that I would be glad, when he doth see his time,
To hear and see him face to face within this house of mine.
Then may he break his mind, and talk with me his fill;
Till then, adieu, both he and thou, mine own sweet little Will.

[_Exeunt Science, Reason, Experience_.

ACT II, SCAENA 3.

WILL.
Ah flattering quean, how neatly she can talk,
How minionly she trips, how sadly she can walk!
Well, wanton, yet beware that ye be sound and sure,
Fair words are wont ofttimes fair women to allure,
Now must I get me home, and make report of this
To him, that thinks it long till my return, i-wis.

[_Exit_.

ACT III., SCAENA 1.

WIT _and_ WILL.

WIT.
Say'st thou me so, boy? will she have me indeed?

WILL.
Be of good cheer, sir; I warrant you to speed.

WIT.
Did both her parents speak well to her of me?

WILL.
As heart can think; go on, and you shall see.

WIT.
How took she the picture? How liketh she my person?

WILL.
She never had done toting[392] and looking thereon.

WIT.
And when must I come to talk with her my fill?

WILL.
Whensoever you please, and as oft as you will.

WIT.
O my sweet boy, how shall I recompense
Thy faithful heart and painful diligence?
My hope, my stay, my wealth, the key of all my joy!

WILL.
I pray you, sir, call me your man, and not your boy.

WIT.
Thou shalt be what thou wilt, all in all.

WILL.
Promise me faithfully that, if your wife brawl,
Or set her father to check me out of measure,
You will not see me abused to their pleasure.

WIT.
Give me thy hand, take here my faith and troth,
I will maintain thee, howsoever the world goeth.

ACT III., SCAENA 2.

_The house of_ SCIENCE. WILL, WIT; _also_ REASON _and_ SCIENCE _behind_.

WIT.
What shall we do? Shall we stand lingering here?

WILL.
If you be a man, press in and go near.

WIT.
What, if there be some other suitor there?

WILL.
And if there be, yet need you not to fear;
Until I bring his head to you upon a spear.
I will not look you in the face, nor in your sight appear.

REASON.
Nay, Wit, advise yourself, and pause a while,
Or else this haste of yours will you beguile.

SCIENCE.
No haste but good, take time and learn to fight,
Learn to assault, learn to defend a right:
Your match[393] is monstrous to behold and full of might,
Whom you must vanquish, not by force, but by sleight.

WIT.
Madam, stand to your promise; if I win, I am sped,
Am I not?

SCIENCE.
Yea, truly.

WILL.
Good enough, if we fight not, I would we were dead,
No man shall stay us, that bears a head.

EXPERIENCE.
Young man, a word or twain, and then adieu:
Your years are few, your practice green and new;
Mark what I say, and ye shall find it true:
You are the first that shall this rashness rue.
Be ruled here: our counsel do thereafter.
Lay good ground, your work shall be the faster.
This headlong haste may sooner miss than hit;
Take heed both of witless[394] Will and wilful Wit.
We have within a gentleman, our retainer and our friend,
With servants twain, that do on him attend--
Instruction, Study, Diligence: these three
At your commandment in this attempt shall be.
Hear them instead of us, and as they shall devise,
So hardily cast your[395] cards in this enterprise.
I will send them to you, and leave you for now.

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