Kemps Nine Daies Wonder | Page 4

you in companie?
"Harl. None but my wife and my selfe, sir.
"Kemp. Your wife! why, hearke you; wil your wife do tricks in publike?
"Harl. My wife can play.
"Kemp. The honest woman, I make no question; but how if we cast a whores part or a courtisan?
"Harl. Oh, my wife is excellent at that; she's practisd it euer since I married her, tis her onely practise.
"Kemp. But, by your leaue, and she were my wife, I had rather keepe her out of practise a great deale.
"Sir Anth. Yet since tis the custome of the countrie, Prithe make one, conclude vpon the proiect: We neither looke for Schollership nor Arte, But harmlesse mirth, for thats thy vsuall part.
"Kemp. You shall finde me no turne-coate. [Exit Sir Anth.] But the proiect, come; and then to casting of the parts.
"Harl. Marry, sir, first we will haue an old Pantaloune.
"Kemp. Some iealous Coxcombe.
"Harl. Right, and that part will I play.
"Kemp. The iealous Cox-combe?
"Harl. I ha plaid that part euer since--
"Kemp. Your wife plaid the Curtizan.
"Harl. True, and a great while afore: then I must haue a peasant to my man, and he must keepe my wife.
"Kemp. Your man, and a peasant, keepe your wife! I haue knowne a Gentleman keepe a peasants wife, but 'tis not vsuall for a peasant to keepe his maisters wife.
"Harl. O, 'tis common in our countrey.
"Kem. And ile maintaine the custome of the country. Offer to kisse his wife.
"Harl. What do you meane, sir?
"Kemp. Why, to rehearse my part on your wiues lips: we are fellowes, and amongst friends and fellowes, you knowe, all things are common.
"Harl. But shee shall bee no common thing, if I can keepe her seuerall: then, sir, wee must haue an Amorado that must make me Cornuto.
"Kemp. Oh, for loue sake let me play that part!
"Harl. No, yee must play my mans part, and keepe my wife.
"Kemp. Right; and who so fit to make a man a Cuckold, as hee that keepes his wife?
"Harl. You shall not play that part.
"Kemp. What say you to my boy?
"Harl. I, he may play it, and you will.
"Kemp. But he cannot make you iealous enough?
"Harl. Tush, I warrant you, I can be iealous for nothing.
"Kemp. You should not be a true Italian else.
"Harl. Then we must haue a Magnifico that must take vp the matter betwixt me and my wife.
"Kemp. Any thing of yours, but Ile take vp nothing of your wiues.
"Harl. I wish not you should: but come, now am I your Maister.
"Kemp. Right, and I your seruant.
"Harl. Lead the way then.
"Kemp. No, I ha more manners then so: in our countrie 'tis the custome of the Maister to go In-before his wife, and the man to follow the maister.
"Harl. In--
"Kemp. To his Mistresse.
"Harl. Yee are in the right--
"Kemp. Way to Cuck-holds-hauen; Saint Luke bee your speede!
Exeunt."[xvii:1]
When, in the former of these scenes, Kemp is said to be "famous for workes in print," I understand the ironical compliment as an allusion to his Nine daies wonder only; for I feel assured that all the other pieces which I now proceed to notice, have been erroneously attributed to his pen.
A Dvtifvl Invective, Against the moste haynous Treasons of Ballard and Babington: with other their Adherents, latelie executed. Together with the horrible attempts and actions of the Q. of Scottes: and the Sentence pronounced against her at Fodderingay. Newlie compiled and set foorth, in English verse: For a Newyeares gifte to all loyall English subiects, by W. Kempe. Imprinted at London by Richard Jones, dwelling at the signe of the Rose and crowne, neere Holborne bridge, 1587. 4to. (four leaves) is assigned to our comedian in Ritson's Bibl. Poet., Collier's Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poet.[xviii:1] &c., &c. The writer calls it "the first fruites of his labour," and dedicates it "To the right honorable my very good Lord, George Barne, L. Maior of the Cittie of London." It opens thus:
"What madnes hath so mazd mens minds, that they cannot forsee The wretched ends of catiues vile, which work by treacherie, To ouerthrowe the blessed state of happie common wealth, Or to depriue their soueraigne prince of her long wished health. If feare of God and of his lawes were clearlie out of minde, If feare of death (by Princes lawes) might not their dueties binde, If vtter ruine of the Realme, and spoile of guiltlesse blood, Might not suffice to stay the rage of traitors cruell moode, Yet might they well consider howe treasons come to nought, But alwaies worke their ouerthrowe by whom they first were wrought," &c.
Towards the end, the loyalty of the author becomes so extravagant, that in a prayer for Queen Elizabeth, he exclaims:--
"Prolong her daies we pray thee, Lord, and if it be thy will, Let vs not ouerliue her raigne, but let vs haue her