Touchstone. [...] Heyday, Ruffins’ Hall! Sword, pumps, here’s a racket indeed! (1.1.21–22
Golding. [...] Alas, I behold thee with pity, not with anger. Thou common shotclog, gull of all companies, methinks I see thee already walking in Moorfields without a cloack, 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 (1.1.157–64).
Mildred. Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing.
Touchstone. Sir, ’Eastward Ho’ will make you go Westward Ho! I will no longer dishonest my house, nor endanger my stock with your licence (2.1.133–35).
Sir Petronel. [...] And the sun being outshined with her laydship’s glory, she fears he goes westward to hang himself (2.2.253–55).
Gertrude. [...] Marry, hang you! Westward with a wanion t’ ye! (3.2.95–96)
Security. [...] And so, Master Frances, here’s to all that are going eastward tonight, towards Cuckold’s Haven; and so to the health of Master Bramble.
Quicksilver. I pledge it, sir. [He kneels.] Hath it gone round, captains?
Seagull. It has, sweet Frank, and the round closes with thee.
Quicksilver. Well, sir, here’s to all eastward and toward cuckolds, and so to famous Cuckold’s Haven, so fatally remembered (3.3.125–33).
Drawer. Sir Petronel, here’s one of your watermen come to tell you it will be flood these three hours; and that ’t will be dangerous going against the tide--for the sky is overcast, and there was a porpoise even now seen at London Bridge, which is always the messenger of tempests, he says (3.3.153–58).
Security. [...] Here, lady, to you that are encompassed there, and are ashamed of our company. [They drink, and rise.] Ha, ha, ha! By my troth, my learned counsel Master Bramble, my mind runs so of Cuckold’s Haven tonight that my head runs over with admiration.
Bramble. [Aside to Security] But is not that your wife, neighbour?
Security. [Aside to Bramble] No, by my troth, Master Bramble. Ha, ha, ha! A pox of all Cuckold’s Havens, I say (3.4.185–98).
Sir Petronel. Gossip, laugh no more at Cuckold’s Haven, gossip (3.4.211–12).
Slitgut. All hail, fair haven of married men only, for there are none but married men cuckolds. For my part, I presume not to arrive here but in my master’s behalf, a poor butcher of Eastcheap, who sends me to set up, in honour of Saint Luke, these necessary ensigns of his homage. And up I got this morning, thus early, to get up to the top of this famous tree, that is all fruit and no leaves, to advance this crest of my master’s occupation. Up then; heaven and Saint Luke bless me, that I be not blown into the Thames as I climb, with this furious tempest. ’Slight, I think the devil be abroad, in likeness of a storm, to rob me of my horns. Hark how he roars. Lord! What a coil the Thames keeps! She bears some unjust burden, I believe, that she kicks and curvets thus to cast it. Heaven bless all honest passengers that are upon her back now, for the bit is out of her mouth, I see, and she will run away with ’em. So, so, I think I have made it look the right way; it runs against London Bridge, as it were, even full butt. And now let me discover from this lofty prospect what pranks the rude Thames plays in her desperate lunacy. O me, here’s a boat has been cast away hard by (4.1.1–25).
Security. What! landed at Cuckold’s Haven? Hell and damnation! I will run back and drown myself.
Slitgut. Poor man, how weak he is! The water has washed away his strength.
Security. Landed at Cuckold’s Haven? If it had not been to die twenty times alive, I should never have scaped death (4.1.44–50).
Slitgut. [...] A woman! i’faith, a woman. Though it be almost at Saint Katharine’s, I discern it to be a woman, for all her body is above the water, and her clothes swim about her most handsomely. O, they bear her upmost bravely! Has not a woman reason to love the taking up of her clothes the better while she lives, for this? Alas, how busy the rude Thames is about her! A pox o’ that wave! (4.1.64–72)
Drawer. [...] Were not you one that took boat, late this night, with a knight and other gentlemen at Billingsgate?
Winifred. Unhappy that I am, I was.
Slitgut. See, see, see! I hold my life, there’s some other a-taking up at Wapping now! Look, what a sort of people cluster about the gallows there! (4.1.125–27)
1 Gentleman. [...] I see y’ have been washed in the Thames here, and I believe ye were drowned in a tavern before, or else you would never have took boat in such a dawning as this was (4.1.192–95).
Seagull. [...] Woe, woe is me, what shall become of us? The last money we could make, the greedy Thames has devoured; and if our ship be attached, there is no hope can relieve us (4.1.217–21).
Quicksilver. Would it had been my fortune to have been trussed up at Wapping, rather than ever ha’ come here (4.2.204–06).
Touchstone. [...] [O]ne that married a daughter of mine, ladyfied her, turned two thousand pounds’ worth of good land of hers into cash within the first week, bought her a new gown and a coach, sent her to seek her fortune by land, whilst himself prepared for his fortune by sea, took in fresh flesh at Billingsgate, for his own diet, to serve im the whole voyage--the wife of a certain usurer, called Security, who hath been the broker for ’em in all his business (4.2.268–77).
Touchstone. [Aside to Golding] Now, son, come over ’em with some fine gird, as thus: ’Knight, you shall be encountered’, that is, had to the Counter (4.2.283–84)[.]
Touchstone. [...] They’ll look out at a window, as thou ridest in triumph to Tyburn, and cry, ’Yonder goes honest Frank, mad Quicksilver!’ (4.2.336–39).
Golding. Officers, take ’em to the Counter (4.2.364).
Wolf. And he has converted one Fangs, a sergeant, a fellow could neither write nor read; he was called the Bandog o’ the Counter, and he has brought him already to pare his nails, and say his prayers, and ’tis hoped he will sell his place shortly and become an intelligencer (5.2.67–72).
I thought by sea to run away,
But Thames and tempest did me stay (5.5.74–75).
Still ’Eastward Ho’ was all my word;
But westward I had no regard,
Nor never thought what would come after,
As did, alas, his youngest daughter (5.5.81–84).
Quicksilver [...] [Sings.]
Farewell, Cheapside, farewell, sweet trade
Of goldsmiths all, that never shall fade;
Farewell, dear fellow prentices all,
And be you warnèd by my fall:
Shun usurers, bawds, and dice, and drabs;
Avoid them as you would French scabs.
Seek not to go beyond your tether,
But cut your thongs unto your leather;
So shall you thrive by little and little,
Scape Tyburn, Counters, and the Spital (5.5.120–29).
Touchstone. Bring him forth, Master Wolf, and release his bands.
[Exit WOLF, and return with SECURITY.]
This day shall be sacred to mercy, and the mirth of this encounter in the Counter (5.5.161–64).
Gertrude. [...] I ha’ been proud and lascivious, father; and a fool, father; and being raised to the state of a wanton coy thing, called a lady, father, have scorned you, father, and my sister, and my sister’s velvet cap, too; and would make a moutha t the city as I rid through it, and stop mine ears at Bow-bell (5.5.174–79).
Quicksilver. [To Touchstone] Stay, sir, I perceive the multitude are gathered together to view our coming out at the Counter (Epilogue 1–3).
Last modification: 2016-05-27 14:37:29 -0700 (Fri, 27 May 2016) (tlandels)