The Birth of Merlin, or, the Childe Hath Found His Father
ACT III SCENE I
Enter Clown and his sister.
CLOWN.
Come, sister, thou that art all fool, all mad-woman.
JOAN.
Prithee, have patience, we are now at court.
CLOWN.
At court! ha, ha, that proves thy madness: was there ever any woman in thy taking travel'd to court for a husband? 'Slid, 'tis enough for them to get children, and the city to keep 'em, and the countrey to finde nurses: every thing must be done in his due place, sister.
JOAN.
Be but content a while; for, sure, I know
This journey will be happy. Oh, dear brother,
This night my sweet friend came to comfort me;
I saw him and embrac't him in mine arms.
CLOWN.
Why did you not hold him, and call me to help you?
JOAN.
Alas, I thought I had been with him still,
But when I wak't--
CLOWN.
Ah! pox of all loger-heads, then you were but in a dream all this while, and we may still go look him. Well, since we are come to court, cast your cats eyes about you, and either finde him out you dreamt on, or some other, for Ile trouble my self no further.
Enter Donobert, Cador, Edwin & Toclio.
See, see, here comes more courtiers; look about you; come, pray, view 'em all well; the old man has none of the marks about him, the other have both swords and feathers: what thinkest thou of that tall yong gentleman?
JOAN.
He much resembles him; but, sure, my friend,
Brother, was not so high of stature.
CLOWN.
Oh, beast, wast thou got a childe with a short thing too?
DONOBERT.
Come, come, Ile hear no more on't: go, lord Edwin,
Tell her, this day her sister shall be married
To Cador, Earl of Cornwal; so shall she
To thee, brave Edwin, if she'l have my blessing.
EDWIN.
She is addicted to a single life,
She will not hear of marriage.
DONOBERT.
Tush, fear it not: go you from me to her,
Use your best skill, my lord, and if you fail,
I have a trick shall do it: haste, haste about it.
EDWIN.
Sir, I am gone;
My hope is in your help more then my own.
DONOBERT.
And worthy Toclio, to your care I must
Commend this business
For lights and musick, and what else is needful.
TOCLIO.
I shall, my lord
CLOWN.
We would intreat a word, sir. Come forward, sister. (Exeunt Donobert, Toclio, Cador.
EDWIN.
What lackst thou, fellow?
CLOWN.
I lack a father for a childe, sir.
EDWIN.
How! a God-father?
CLOWN.
No, sir, we mean the own father: it may be you, sir, for any thing we know; I think the childe is like you.
EDWIN.
Like me! prithee, where is it?
CLOWN.
Nay, 'tis not born yet, sir, 'tis forth coming, you see; the childe must have a father: what do you think of my sister?
EDWIN.
Why, I think if she ne're had husband, she's a whore, and thou a fool. Farewell.
(Exit.
CLOWN.
I thank you, sir. Well, pull up thy heart, sister; if there be any law i'th' court, this fellow shall father it, 'cause he uses me so scurvily. There's a great wedding towards, they say; we'l amongst them for a husband for thee.
Enter Sir Nicodemus with a letter.
If we miss there, Ile have another bout with him that abus'd me. See! look, there comes another hat and feather, this should be a close letcher, he's reading of a love-letter.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Earl Cador's marriage, and a masque to grace it.
So, so.
This night shall make me famous for presentments.--
How now, what are you?
CLOWN.
A couple of great Brittains you may see by our bellies, sir.\
SIR NICODEMUS.
And what of this, sir?
CLOWN.
Why, thus the matter stands, sir: there's one of your courtiers hunting nags has made a gap through another mans inclosure. Now, sir, here's the question, who should be at charge of a fur-bush to stop it?
SIR NICODEMUS.
Ha, ha, this is out of my element: the law must end it.
CLOWN.
Your worship says well; for, surely, I think some lawyer had a hand in the business, we have such a troublesom issue.
SIR NICODEMUS.
But what's thy business with me now?
CLOWN.
Nay, sir, the business is done already, you may see by my sisters belly.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Oh, now I finde thee: this gentlewoman, it seems, has been humbled.
CLOWN.
As low as the ground would give her leave, sir, and your worship knows this: though there be many fathers without children, yet to have a childe without a father were most unnatural.
SIR NICODEMUS.
That's true, ifaith, I never heard of a childe yet that e're begot his father.
CLOWN.
Why, true, you say wisely, sir.
SIR NICODEMUS.
And therefore I conclude, that he that got the childe is without all question the father of it.
CLOWN.
I, now you come to the matter, sir; and our suit is to your worship for the discovery of this father.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Why, lives he in the court here?
JOAN.
Yes, sir, and I desire but marriage.
SIR NICODEMUS.
And does the knave refuse it? Come, come, be merry, wench; he shall marry thee, and keep the childe too, if my knighthood can do any thing. I am bound by mine orders to help distressed ladies, and can there be a greater injury to a woman with childe, then to lack a father for't? I am asham'd of your simpleness: Come, come, give me a courtiers fee for my pains, and Ile be thy advocate my self, and justice shall be found; nay, Ile sue the law for it; but give me my fee first.
CLOWN.
If all the money I have i'th' world will do it, you shall have it, sir.
SIR NICODEMUS.
An angel does it.
CLOWN.
Nay, there's two, for your better eye sight, sir.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Why, well said! Give me thy hand, wench, Ile teach thee a trick for all this, shall get a father for thy childe presently, and this it is, mark now: You meet a man, as you meet me now, thou claimest marriage of me, and layest the childe to my charge; I deny it: push, that's nothing, hold thy claim fast, thy words carries it, and no law can withstand it.
CLOWN.
Ist possible?
SIR NICODEMUS.
Past all opposition; her own word carries it: let her challenge any man, the childe shall call him father; there's a trick for your money now.
CLOWN.
Troth, sir, we thank you, we'l make use of your trick, and go no further to seek the childe a father, for we challenge you, sir: sister, lay it to him, he shall marry thee, I shall have a worshipful old man to my brother.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Ha, ha, I like thy pleasantness.
JOAN.
Nay, indeed, sir, I do challenge you.
CLOWN.
You think we jest, sir?
SIR NICODEMUS.
I, by my troth, do I. I like thy wit, yfaith: thou shalt live at court with me; didst never here of Nicodemus Nothing? I am the man.
CLOWN.
Nothing? 'slid, we are out agen: thou wast never got with childe with nothing, sure.
JOAN.
I know not what to say.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Never grieve, wench, show me the man, and process shall fly out.
CLOWN.
'Tis enough for us to finde the children, we look that you should finde the father, and therefore either do us justice, or we'l stand to our first challenge.
SIR NICODEMUS.
Would you have justice without an adversary? Unless you can show me the man, I can do you no good in it.
CLOWN.
Why, then I hope you'l do us no harm, sir; you'l restore my money.
SIR NICODEMUS.
What, my fee? marry, law forbid it!
Finde out the party, and you shall have justice,
Your fault clos'd up, and all shall be amended,
The childe, his father, and the law defended. (Exit.
CLOWN.
Well, he has deserv'd his fee, indeed, for he has brought our suit to a quick end, I promise you, and yet the childe has never a father; nor we have no more mony to seek after him. A shame of all lecherous placcats! now you look like a cat had newly kitten'd; what will you do now, tro? Follow me no further, lest I beat your brains out.
JOAN.
Impose upon me any punishment, rather then leave me now.
CLOWN.
Well, I think I am bewitcht with thee; I cannot finde in my heart to forsake her. There was never sister would have abus'd a poor brother as thou hast done; I am even pin'd away with fretting, there's nothing but flesh and bones about me. Well, and I had my money agen, it were some comfort. Hark, sister, thunder does it not thunder?
JOAN.
Oh yes, most fearfully: what shall we do, brother?
CLOWN.
Marry, e'ene get some shelter, e're the storm catch us: away, let's away, I prithee.
Enter the Devil in mans habit, richly attir'd, his feet and his head horrid.
JOAN.
Ha, 'tis he! Stay, brother, dear brother, stay.
CLOWN.
What's the matter now?
JOAN.
My love, my friend is come; yonder he goes.
CLOWN.
Where, where? show me where; I'le stop him, if the devil be not in him.
JOAN.
Look there, look yonder!
Oh, dear friend, pity my distress,
For heaven and goodness, do but speak to me.
DEVIL.
She calls me, and yet drives me headlong from her.
Poor mortal, thou and I are much uneven,
Thou must not speak of goodness nor of heaven,
If I confer with thee; but be of comfort:
Whilst men do breath, and Brittains name be known,
The fatal fruit thou bear'st within thy womb
Shall here be famous till the day of doom.
CLOWN.
'Slid, who's that talks so? I can see no body.
JOAN.
Then art thou blind or mad. See where he goes,
And beckons me to come; oh, lead me forth,
I'le follow thee in spight of fear or death. (Exit.
CLOWN.
Oh brave! she'l run to the devil for a husband; she's stark mad, sure, and talks to a shaddow, for I could see no substance: well, I'le after her; the childe was got by chance, and the father must be found at all adventure.
(Exit.
On to Scene II
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