true." The murder on whioh this short drama is founded was
committed in 1604, and a ballad was made upon it in the follow-
ing year, of which probably this tragedy is only an enlargement*
The fact is thus related in"Stowe's Chronicle," anno 1604:
" Walter Calyerly of Oalverly in Yorkshire Esquier, murdred
2 of his young children, stabbed his wifS into the bodie with full
purpose to have murdred her, and instantly went from his house
to have daine his youngest child at nurse, but was preyented-
For which Â£Ebct at his triall in Yorke hee stood mute, and was
judged to be prest to death, according to which judgment he was
executed at the castell of Yorke the 5th of August."
The piece before us was acted at the Globe, together with three
other diort dramas that were represented on the same day under
the name of ''All's One," as appears from one of the titles of the
quarto, 1608, which runs thus: ''All's One, or one of the foure
plaies in one, called a Yorkshire Tragedy ; as it was plaid by the
king's mt^eslie's plaiers." Shakspeare's name is afiEaed to this
Malone could form no decided opinion about this play.
" The Yorkshire Tragedy," says Dr.Earmer, "has been fre-
quently called Shakspeare's earliest attempt in the drama ; but
most certainly it was not written by our poet at alL"
Hazlitt ascribes it rather to Heywood.
A YORKSHIRE TRAGEDY.
MASTER OF A COLLEGE.
A KNIGHT, a Magistrate.
RALPH, } Servants,
Other SERVANTS and OFFICERS.
A LITTLE BOY, &c
Scene.â€” Calverly, in Yorkshire.
8CI1NE Lâ€”A Boom in Caloerly SaU,
Enter OLIVER and Balph.
Oliv. Sirrah Balph, my younx mistress is in such a pitiful
passionate himiour for the long absenoe of her loveâ€”
Ralph. Why, can you blame hw? Why, apples hanging longer
on the tree than when they are ripe, make so many faUings ; so
mad wenches, because they are not gathered in time, are fain to
drop off themselves, and then 'tis common you know for every
man to take them up.
Oliv. Mass thou say'st true, tis common indeed. But sirrah,
is neither our young master retum'd, nor our fellow Sam come
firom London P
Ralph. Neither of either, as the puritan bawd says. *Slid I
hear Siam. Sam 's come ; here he is ; come i' faith : now my nose
itches for news.
Oliv. And so does mine elbow.
Sam. [within']. Where are you there ? Boy, look you walk lay
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, Ralph and Oliver !
Both. Honest fellow Sam, welcome i' faith. What tricks hast
thou brought from London ?
802 A YOBESHIBE TBAGEDY. [ACT Z,
8am. Ton see I am hang'd after the truest fashion; three
hat& and two glasses bobbing upon them ; two rebato Â¥mres upon
my Dreast, a cap-case by my siaeÂ» a brush at my back, on alma-
nack in my pocket, and three ballads in my codpiece. Nay, I
am the true picture of a common serving-man.
OUv. ril swear thou art ; thou mayst set up when thou wilt :
there's many a one be^ns with less, I can tell thee, that proves
a rich man ere he dies. But what's the news firom London,
lUUph, Ay, thafs well said; whafs the news from London,
sirrah ? My young mistress keeps such a puling for her love.
Sam, Why the more fool she ; ay, the more nmnyhammer she.
OUv, Why, Sam, why?
Sam, Why, he is married to another long ago.
Both, r faith? You jest.
Sam, Why, did you not know that till now? Why, he's
married, beats his wife, and has two or three children by her.
For you must note, that any woman bears the more when she
Ralph, Ay. thaf s true, for she bears the blows.
Olio, Sirran Sam, I would not for two years' wages my young
mistress knew so much ; she'd run upon the left handof ner wi^
and ne'er be her own woman again.
Sam, And I think she were hlest in her cradle, had he never
come 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 scrivener. Puh ! he owes more than his ddn
Olin. Is't possible ?
Sam. Nay, I'll tell von moreover, he caUs his wife whore, as
famiUarly as one would call Moll and Doll ; and his children
bastards, as naturally as can be. â€” But what have we here ? I
thought 'twas sometning pulled down my breeches ; I ouite for-
got my two poking sticks :t these came m>m London. Now any-
thing is good here that comes f^om London.
Om. Ay, far fetch'd, you know, Sam, 1â€” But speak in your
conscience i' faith ; have not we as good poking sticks i^ the
country as need to be put in the fire ?
Sam. The mind of a thing is all ; the mind of a thin^ is all ;
and as thou saidst even now, &r-fetch'd are the best thmgs for
Olio, Ay, and for waiting gentlewomen too.
Sam. But Bialph. what, is our beer sour this thunder ?
Ralph. No, no, it holds -countenance vet.
Sam. Wh]^ then follow me ; I'll teach you the finest humour
to be drunk in : I learned it at London last week.
Both, V faith ? Let's hear it, let's hear it.
Sam. The bravest humour ! 'twould do a man good to be dnmk
* Enter into a bond.
t These were used to a4}u8t the plaits of the miT.
t Alluding: to the proverb, " Far fetched and dear bought.'*
â€¢CBHB II.] A YOBESHISB TBAOEDY. 905
in it : they call it knighting in London, when they drink upon
Both. 'Faith that* s excellent.
Sam. Come, follow me ; Til give you all the degrees of it in
SCENJE II. â€” Another Apartment in the same.
TT^e. What will become of us ? All will away :
My husband never ceases in expense,
Both to consume his credit and his house ;
And 'tis set down by heaven's just decree,
That Riot's child must needs be beggary.
Are these the virtues that his youth did promise P
Dice and voluptuous meetings, midnight revels.
Taking his bed with surfeits ; ill beseeming
The ancient honour of his house and name P
His fortunes cannot answer his expense.
And this not aU, but that which kills me most^
When he recounts his losses and false fortunes,
The weakness of his state so much dejected,
^ot as a man repentant, but half mad.
He sits, and suUenlv locks up his arms .
Forgetting heaven. looks downward; which makes him
Appear so dreadful that he fhghts my heart :
Wfuks heavily, as if lus soul were earth ;
Not penitent tor those his sins are past.
But vex'd his monev cannot make them last :
A fearful melancholy, ungodly sorrow.
O. yonder he comes ; now in despite of iUb
I'll speak to him, and I will hear him speak,
And do my best to drive it from his heart.
Sue. Pox o' the last throw ! It made five hundred angels
Vanish from my sight I'm damn'd, I'm damn'd ;
The angels * have forsook me. Nay it is
Certainly true ; for he that has no coin
Is damuM in this world ; he is gone, he's gone.
Wife. Dear husband.
Sue. O ! most punishment of all, I have a wife.
Wife. I do entreat you, as you love your soul.
Tell me the cause of tnis your discontent.
Hue. A vengeance strip thee naked ! thou art cause.
Effect, quality, property ; thou, thou, thou. [Exit,
Wife. Bad tum'd to worse ; both beggary of the soul
And of the body ;â€” and so much unlike
Himself at first^ as if some vexed spirit
Had got his form upon him. He comes again.
â€¢ A quibble between angels of heaven, and angel, the gold cdn.
804 A TOAKSHISB TBAGEDT. [aCT L
He says I am the cause : I never yet
Spoke less than words of duty ana of love.
But, If marriage be honourable, then cuckolds are honour-
able, for they cannot be made without marriage. Fool ! what
meant I to marry to get beggars ? Now must my eldest son be
a knave or nothing ; he cannot live upon the fooL for he will
have no land to maintain him. That mortgage sits like & snaffle
upon mine inheritance, and makes me chew upon iron. My
second son must be a promoter ; * and my third a thie( or an
under-putter ; a slave pander. Oh beggary, beffgary, to what
bo^ usee dost thou put a man ! I think the devil scorns to be a
bawd ; he bears himself more proudly, has more care of his credit
B ase, slavish, abject, filthy poverty !
W\fe. Good Sir, by all our vows I do beseech you.
Show me the true cause of your discontent.
J2tÂ». Money, money, money ; and thou must supply me.
W\fe. Alas, I am the least cause of your discontent ;
Tet what is mine, either in rings or jewels,
Use to your own desire ; but I beseech you.
As you are a gentleman by many bloods,t
Though I myself be out of your respect.
Think on the state of the three lovely boys
You have been father to.
Hus. Puh ! bastards, bastards, bastards ; begot in tricks^ begot
Jpye. Heaven knows how those words wrong me : but I may
Endure these griefs among a thousand more.
call to mind your lands already mortgaoed, â€¢
Yourself wound into debts, your hopeful Drother
At the university in bonds for you.
Like to be seiz'd upon ; and
jECus. Have done, thou harlot,
VHiom though for fashion-sake I married,
1 never could abide. Think'st thou, thy words
Shall kill my pleasures ? Fall off to thy ftiends ;
Thou and thy bastards beg ; I will not Date
A whit in humour. Midnight, still I love you.
And revel in your companjr ! Curbed in !
Shall it be said in all societies.
That I broke custom ? that I flagg*d in money ?
No, those thy jewels I will play as freely
As when my state was fullest.
IF^tf. Be it so.
Bus. Nay, I protest (and take that for an earnest)
T will for ever hold thee in contempt,
And never touch the sheets that cover thee,
But be divorced in bed, till thou consent
* An informer. f I. e. by many descents.
d by Google
BCENB II.] A TOBESHIBE TBAOBDY. 305
Thy dowry shall be sold, to give new life
TJnto those pleasures which 1 most affect.
W\fe. Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me,
And what the law shall give me leave to do,
Tou shall command.
Sm*. Look it be done. Shall I want dust,
And like a slave wear nothing in i^ pockets
iMouts his hands in his pockets.
But my bare hands, to fill them u^ with nails ?
much against my blood ! * Let it be done ;
1 was never made to be a looker on,
A bawd to dice ; Til shake the drabs myself,
And make them yield : I say, look it be done.
Wife. I take my leave : it shaU. [JSxU.
Sus, Speedily, speedily.
I hate the very hour I chose a wife :
A trouble, trouble ! Three children, like three evils.
Hang on me. Fie, fie, fie ! Strumpet and bastards !
JSnter three Gentlemek.
Strumpet and bastards !
1 Chnt. Still do these loathsome thoughts jar on your tongue?
Yourself to stain the honour of your wife,
Nobly descended ? Those whom men call mad,
Endanger others ; but he's more than mad
That wounds himself; whose own words do proclaim
Scandals unjust, to soil his better name
It is not fit ; I pray, forsake it.
2 Gent. Good Sir, let modesty reprove you.
8 Ghnt, Let honest kindness sway so much with you.
Sue. Good den ; f I thank you. Sir ; how do vou P Adieu !
I am glad to see you. Earewell instructions, admonitions !
2^er a Sbbvant.
How now, orrah ? What would you ?
8er. Only to certify you. Sir, that my mistress was met by the
way, by them who were sent for her up to Londoh by her
honourable uncle, your worship's late guardian.
Sue. So, Sir, then she is gone ; and so may vou be ;
But let her Iook the thins be done she wots of, .
Or hell will stand more pleasant than her house
At home. [Sxit Sbbyant.
JSwter a Gentleman.
C^ewt. Well or ill met, 1 care not.
Sus. No, nor L
Gent. I am come with confidence to chide you.
Sus. Who ? me ?
Chide me ? Do't finely, then : let it not move me :
For if thou chid'st me angry, I shall strike.
*i. e. my indlnatioii. t Qoofi evwu
TOL. V. :^
806 A roMOBSXia TBAam>T. [act i.
GeÂ«e. Strike thine own foUies, for tis they deflarve
To be well beaten. We are now in private ;
There's none but thou and 1. Thou art fond and peevish ,*
An unclean rioter ; thy lands and credit
Lie now both sick of a consumption :
I am sorry for thee. That man spends with shame
That with his riches doth consume his name ;
And such art thou.
Oent No, thou shalt hear me ftirther.
Thy father's and forefathers' worthy honours,
Wnich were our county's monuments, our grace,
Follies in thee begin now to deface.
The spring-time of thy youth did Mrly xnnomise
Such a most fruitftil summer to thy fhends,
It scarce can enter into men's beliefe,
Such dearth should hang upon thee. We that see it.
Are sorry to believe it Inthychanse,
This voice into all places will be hurraâ€”
Thou and the devil have deceived the world.
JBiis. I'll not endure thee.
Gent, But of all the worsts
Thy virtuous wife, right honourably allied.
Thou hast proclaim'd a strumpet
JSus. Nay, then, I know thee ;
Thou art her champion, thou ; her private friend ;
The party you wot on.t
Gewt. O ignoble thought !
I am past my patient blood. Shall I stand idle;,
And see my reputation touch'd to death P
But. It has gall'd you. this ; has it P
Gent No, monater ; I will jirove
My thoughts did <mly tend to virtuous love.
Hits. Love of her virtues P there it goes.
Gent Base spirit.
To lay thy hate upon the fruitfol honour
Of Ihme own bed ! [T^Jlght, and the Httsbakb it hwrt
ffut. Oh !
Gent, Wilt thou yield it yet f
Hut, Sir, Sir, I have not done with you.
G^wt. I hope, n<Mr ne'er shall do. [They fight agaim.
Hut. Have you got tricks P Are you in cunning wiw me P
Gent No, plain and right:
He needs no cunningt that for truth doth fight
Hut. Hard fortune ! am I levell'd with ihe ground P
Gent. Now, Sin you lie at mercy.
Hnt. Ay, you slave.
Gent. Alas, that hate should bring us to our grave !
Tou see, my sword 's not thirsty for your life :
* J. e. weak and tmy. t J e. yoa know whom I mean,
t I.e. great sUU.
BOBini m.] JL Y0BK8HIBB TBA01IDT. 307
I am sorrier for your wound thin yon joanM
You're of a Tirtuous house ; show Tirtuoos deeds ;
'Tis not your honour, tis your folly bleeds.
Much good has been expected in Tour life;
Cancel not all men's hopes : you nave a wife,
Kind and obedient ; heap not wrongM shame
On her and your posterify ; let only sin be sord^
And by this faSl^ rue never to taH more.
And so I leave you. [ JKvt^.
JSit. Has the dog lefb me. then.
After his tooth has left mer O, my heart
Would fain leap after him. Bevenge, I saj ;
I'm mad to be revenged. My strumpet wue,
It is thy quarrel that rips thus my fledi.
And makes my breast spit blood ;â€” but thou shalt bleed.
Vanquish'd ? got down F unable even to speak P
Surely tis want of money makes men weak :
Ay, twas that o'erthrew me : I'd ne'er been down else. lExii.
SCHinS IILâ€”Aa^Ur Boom â€¢Â» tho same.
HfUer Wms, mi a ridmtg ndt, cmd a Sbbyaitt.
8er, 'Eaith, mistress, if it might not be presumption
In me to tell you so, for his excuse
Ton had small reason, knowing his abase.
Wife. I grant I had; but alak
Why should our fiiults at home be spread abroad ?
Tis grief enough within doors. At nrst sight
IdQne uncle could run o'er his prodigal life
As perfectly as if his serious eye
Had numbered all his follies :
Knew of his mortgaged lands, his friends in bonds.
Himself withered with debts ; and in that minute
Had I added his usage and unkindness,
Twould have confounded every thought of good :
Where now, fathering his riots on his youth,
Which time and tame experience will wake ofl^â€”
Guessing his kindness to me (as I smooth'd him
With all the skill I had, though his deserts
Are in form uglier than an unshaped bear).
He's ready to prefer him to some office
And place at court: a good and sure relief
To all his stooping fomnes. 'TwiU be a means, I hope.
To make new leaffue betfreen us, and redeem
His virtues with nis lands.
8er. I should think so, mistress. If he should not now be
kind to yoiL and love you, and cherish you up, I should tlunk the
devil himself kqst open house in him.
Wife. I doubt not but he wilL Now prithee leave me ; I
think I hear him oeming.
8er, I am gone. ISxU.
Wife. By this flood means I shall preserve my lands^
And free my husband out of usurenr hands.
Digitized by VjOOQ IC
808 A Y0BE8BIBB TBiaEDT. [ACT I.
Now there's no need of sale ; my unole 's kind :
I hope, if aught, this will content his mind.
Here comes my hushand.
Rus. Now, are you oome? Where's the money? Let's see
the money. Is the rubhish sold P those wise-acres, your lands ?
Why when ? The money ? Where is it ? Pour it down ; down
with it, down with it : X say, pourt on the ground ; lef s see it,
let* s see it
Wife. Good Sir, keep but in patience, and I hope my words
shall like* you well 1 bring you better comfdrt than the sale of
JIus. Ha! Whafsthat?
Wife. Fray, do not fri|[ht me. Sir, but vouchsafe me hearing.
My uncle, glad of your kmdness to me and mild usage (for so I
made it' to mm), hath, in pity of vour declining fortune^ pro-
vided a place for you at court, of worth and credit ; which so
much overjoyed me â€”
Jliig. Out on thee, filth ! over and overjoyed, when I'm in tor-
ment ? ISpurns her."] Thou politic whore, subtiler than nine
devils, was this thy journey to nunck ? to set down the history of
me, of my state and fortunes ? Shall I that dedicated myself to
pleasure, be now confined in service ? to crouch and stand, hke
an old man, i' the hams ;t my hat off? I that could never abide
to uncover my head i' the church ? Base slut ! this fruit bear
Wife- O, heaven knows
That my complaints wejrejDraises, and best words,
Of you and your estate. Only, my friends
Knew of your mortgaged lands, and were possess'd
Of every accident before I came.
If you suspect it but a plot in me.
To keep my dowry, or lor mine own good.
Or my poor children's (though it suits a mother
To show a natural care in their reliefs).
Yet Fll forget myself to calm your blood :
Consume i^ as your pleasure counsels you.
And all I wish even clemency affords ;
Give me but pleasant looks and modest words.
Eiis, Money, whore, money, or 111â€” IDraws a dagger.
Enter a Sesyant hattilp.
What the devil ! How now ! thy hasty news ?
Ser. May it please you. Sir â€”
Bus. What ! may I not look unon my dagger ?
Speak, villain, or I will execute the point on thee :
8er. Why, Sir, a gentleman from the Universily stays below to
speak with you. [Exit,
* Hease. t /. e. with his knees bent
SCBNB IT.] A Y0BE8HIBB TBAGBDY. 309
J3w. Prom theXJmyersily? 8o;Univer8i<y:â€” that long word
runs thrqagh me. [SxU.
Wife, W98 ever wife bo wretchedly beset ?
Had not this news stepp'd in between, the point
Had offer'd violence unto mr breast.
That which some women caU great misery,
Would show but little here ; would scarce be seen
Among my miseries. I may compare,
For wretched fortunes, with all wives that are.
Nothing will please him, until all be nothing.
He calls it slavery to be preferred ;
A place of credit, a base servitude.
"Wnat shall become of me, and my poor children,
INf o here, and one at nurse ? my pretty beggars !
I see how Euin with a palsied hand
Begins to shake this ancient seat to dust :
The heavy weight of sorrow draws my lids
Over my dankish* eyes : I can scarce see ;
This gnef will last ;â€” it wakes and sleeps with me. [Exit
8CENE IK-^Another Apartment in the same.
JSnter HUSBAND and the Masteb of a College.
Hue. Please you draw near. Sir; you're exceeding welcome.
Mati. Thafs my doubt; I fear I come not to be welcome.
Hue, Yes, howsoever.
Matt 'Tis not my fashion, Sir, to dwell in long circumstance,
but to be plain and effectual; therefore to the purpose. The
cause of my settinff forth was piteous and lamentable. That
hopeftil young gentleman your brother, whose virtues we all
love dearly, through your default and unnatural negligence lies
in bond executed for your debt,â€” a prisoner; all his studies
amazed,t his hope struck dead, and the pride of his youth muf-
fled in these dark clouds of oppression.
Eue, Umph, umph, umph !
Mcut. O you have killed the towardest hope of all our Uni-
versity : wherefore, without repentance and amends, expect pon-
derous and sudden judgments to fall grievously upon you. Your
brother, a man who profited in his divine employments, and
might have made ten thousand souls fit for heaven, is now by
your careless courses cast into prison, which you must answer
for ; and assure your spirit it will come home at length.
Hut. O God ! oh !
Most. Wise men think iQ of you ; others CT)eak ill of you ; no
man loves you: nay, even those whom honesty condemns
oondemn you : And take this from the virtuous affection I bear
your brother ; never look for prosperous hour, good thoughts,
quiet sleep, contented walks, nor an^hing that makes man per-
iod^ till you redeem him. What is your answer ? How will
you D^tow him ? Upon desperate misery, or better hopes ?â€” I
suffer till I hear your answer.
* J. e. moistened. ' t J. e. stunned.
X i.e. jaerfectlr harpy.
810 A TOBSSEOBa TlUAVpT. [ACT I.
Bus. Sir, you haye nmoh wrought with me ; X fbel yoirin my
floul : you are your artf's master. I never had uiaaid till now :
your syllables have otoft me. Both for your wcnrds and nains I
thank you. I cannot but admowledge ^evcniB ^Trongs done to
my brother ; mightfy, mighly, mighty, nug^ty wr(Â»igs. Within,
Enter a Servemt.
JBut. Pill me a bowl of wine. [Sadt Servant.} Alas, poor
brother, bruised with an execution for my sake !
Mast, A bruise indeed makes many a mortal sore,
Till the grave cure them.
Me-enter Servant with wine.
Sua. Sir, I begin to you ; you've chid your welcome.
Moat I could have wished it better for your sake. I pledge
you. Sir :â€” To the kind man in prison.
Ems. Let it be so. Now, Sir, if you please to spend but a few
minutes in a walk about my grounds below, my man here shall
attend you. I doubt not but by that time to be furnished of a
sufficient answer, and therein my brother fiiUy satisfied.
Moat. Good Sir, in that the aE|;els would be pleased.
And the world's murmurs calm'd; and I should say,
I set forth then upon a lucky day.
[Bxevnt Masteb and Sentant,
Sua. O thou confused man ! Thy pleasant sins have undone
thee; thy damnation has beggared thee. That heaven should
say we must not sin, and yet made women ! give our senses
way to find pleasure, which being found, confounds us ! Why
should we know those things* so much misuse us ? O, would
virtue had been forbidden ! We should then have proved all
virtuous ; for 'tis our blood to love what we are forbidden. Had
not drunkenness been forbidden, what man would have been
fool to a beast, and zany to a swine,â€” to show tricks in the mire ?
What is there in three dice,t to make a man draw thrice tluree
thousand acres into the compass of a little round table^ and with
the gentleman's palsy in the nand shake out his post^ity. IMeveS
or beggars P 'Tis done ; I have don'>t i' faith : terrible, horrible
misery !â€” -How wellj was I left ! Very well, very weU. My
lands showed like a mil moon about me ; but now the moon ^ in
the last quarter,â€” waning, waning ; and I am mad to think that
moon was mine; mine and my father's, and my fore^etthers';
generations, generations.â€” BoWn goes the house of us ; down,
down it sinks. Now is the name a begoar ; begs in me. That
name which himdreds of years has made this shire funous, in m^
and my posterity runs out. In my seed five are made miserabl*
besides myself: my riot is now my brother's gaoler, my wifis'd
oghini^ my three boys' penury, and mine own confusion.
Why sit my hairs upon my cursed head ? [ Tear a Ma hair.
Will not tms poison scatter them P Â§ O, my brother 's
â€¢ (That.) t PMsage, or pass-dice, was played with three dice.
t (Off.) ^ Alluding to the effects of some kinds of poison.
semit T.] â–² TOBKS&IBB TRJLQFBBY, 311
In execution among devils thftt
Stretch him and miike him give ;* and I in want,
Not ahle for to hye, nor to redeem him !
Divines and dyin^ men may talk of hell,
But in my heart its several torments dwell ;
Slavery and misery. Who, in this case,
Would not take up money upon his soul P
Flawn his salvation, Uve at interest ?
I that did ever in ahundanoe dwell.
For me to want, exceeds the throes of hell.
Enter a little Boy with a top and scourge.