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  • Title: A Yorkshire Tragedy (Third Folio, 1664)

  • Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Thomas Middleton, William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    A Yorkshire Tragedy (Third Folio, 1664)

    Enter Oliver and Raphe, two Serving-men.
    Oliver. SIrra Raphe, my young Mistris is in such a pit-
    5tifull passionate humour for the long absence
    of her Love.
    Raphe. Why can you blame her, why, Ap-
    ples hanging longer on the tree then when they are ripe,
    makes so many falling, viz. Mad wenches because they are
    10not gathered in time, are fain to drop of themselves, and
    then 'tis common you know for every man to take them
    Oliver. Masse thou saist true, 'tis common indeed, but
    sirrah, is neither our young Master returned, nor our fel-
    15low Sam come from London?
    Raphe. Neither of either, as the Puritan Bawd sayes.
    'Slid I hear Sam, Sam's come, here tarry, come ifaith,
    now my nose itches for news.
    Oliv. And so doth mine elbow.
    Sam calls within. Where are you there?
    Sam. Boy, look you walk my horse with discretion,
    I have rid him simply, I warrant his skin sticks to his
    back with very heat, if he should catch cold and get the
    cough of the lungs, I were well served, were I not? What
    25Raph and Oliver.
    Am. Honest fellow Sam, welcome ifaith, what tricks
    hast thou brought from London?
    Furnisht with things from London.
    Sam. You see I am hang'd after the truest fashion,
    30three Hats, and two Glasses bobbing upon them, two re-
    bato wyers upon my brest, a Capcase by my side, a Brush
    at my back, an Almanack in my pocket, and three Bal-
    lats in my codpiece, nay I am the true picture of a com-
    mon servingman.
    35 Oliv. I'le swear thou art, thou maist set up when thou
    wilt, there's many a one begins with lesse I can tell thee,
    that proves a rich man ere he dies, but what's the news
    from London, Sam?
    Raph. I that's well sed, what is the news from London,
    40sirrah. My young Mistris keeps such a puling for her
    Sam. Why the more fool she, I, the more ninny-ham-
    mer she.
    Oliv. Why Sam, why?
    45 Sam. Why, he is married to another, long ago.
    Amb. Faith ye jest.
    Sam. Why, did you not know that till now? Why
    he's married, beats his wife, and has two or three chil-
    dren by her: for you must note, that any woman bears
    50the more when she is beaten.
    Raphe. I that's true, for she bears the blows.
    Oliv. Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years wages
    my young Mistris knew so much, she'd run upon the left
    hand of her wit, and nere be her own woman again.
    55 Sam. And I think she was blest in her Cradle, that
    he never came in her bed, why he has consumed all,
    pawn'd his Lands, and made his University Brother
    stand in wax for him; There's a fine phrase for a Scrive-
    ner, puh, he ows more then his skin is worth.
    60 Oliver. Is't possible?
    Sam. Nay, I'le tell you moreover, he calls his Wife
    whore, as familiarly as one would call Moll and Doll, and
    children bastards, as naturally as can be, but what have
    we here? I thought 'twas something pull'd down my
    65Breeches: I quite forgot my two poting sticks, these came
    from London, now any thing is good here that comes from
    Oliver.I, far fetcht you know.
    Sam. But speak in your conscience ifaith, have not we
    70as good poting sticks i'th' Country as need to be put i'th
    fire, the mind of a thing is all, and as thou said'st even
    now, far fetcht are the best things far Ladies.
    Oliv. I, and for waiting gentlewomen too.
    Sam. But Raphe, is our beer sower this thunder?
    75 Raph. No, no, it holds countenance yet.
    Sam. Why then follow me, I'le teach you the finest
    humour to be drunk in, I learn'd it at London last week.
    Amb. Faith let's hear it, let's hear it.
    Sam. The bravest humour, 'twould do a man good to
    80be drunk in it, they call it knighting in London, when
    they drink upon their knees.
    Amb. Faith that's excellent.
    Come follow me, I'le give you all the degrees of it in or-