A New Way to Pay Old Debts: "Death hath a thousand doors to let out life: I shall find one"
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Philip Massinger was baptized at St. Thomas's in Salisbury on November 24th, 1583.
Massinger is described in his matriculation entry at St. Alban Hall, Oxford (1602), as the son of a gentleman. His father, who had also been educated there, was a member of parliament, and attached to the household of Henry Herbert, 2nd Earl of Pembroke. The Earl was later seen as a potential patron for Massinger.
He left Oxford in 1606 without a degree. His father had died in 1603, and accounts suggest that Massinger was left with no financial support this, together with rumours that he had converted to Catholicism, meant the next stage of his career needed to provide an income.
Massinger went to London to make his living as a dramatist, but he is only recorded as author some fifteen years later, when The Virgin Martyr (1621) is given as the work of Massinger and Thomas Dekker.
During those early years as a playwright he wrote for the Elizabethan stage entrepreneur, Philip Henslowe. It was a difficult existence. Poverty was always close and there was constant pleading for advance payments on forthcoming works merely to survive.
After Henslowe died in 1616 Massinger and John Fletcher began to write primarily for the King's Men and Massinger would write regularly for them until his death.
The tone of the dedications in later plays suggests evidence of his continued poverty. In the preface of The Maid of Honour (1632) he wrote, addressing Sir Francis Foljambe and Sir Thomas Bland: "I had not to this time subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies and favours."
The prologue to The Guardian (1633) refers to two unsuccessful plays and two years of silence, when the author feared he had lost popular favour although, from the little evidence that survives, it also seems he had involved some of his plays with political characters which would have cast shadows upon England’s alliances.
Philip Massinger died suddenly at his house near the Globe Theatre on March 17th, 1640. He was buried the next day in the churchyard of St. Saviour's, Southwark, on March 18th, 1640. In the entry in the parish register he is described as a "stranger," which, however, implies nothing more than that he belonged to another parish.
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A New Way to Pay Old Debts - Philip Massinger
A New Way to Pay Old Debts by Philip Massinger
Philip Massinger was baptized at St. Thomas's in Salisbury on November 24th, 1583.
Massinger is described in his matriculation entry at St. Alban Hall, Oxford (1602), as the son of a gentleman. His father, who had also been educated there, was a member of parliament, and attached to the household of Henry Herbert, 2nd Earl of Pembroke. The Earl was later seen as a potential patron for Massinger.
He left Oxford in 1606 without a degree. His father had died in 1603, and accounts suggest that Massinger was left with no financial support this, together with rumours that he had converted to Catholicism, meant the next stage of his career needed to provide an income.
Massinger went to London to make his living as a dramatist, but he is only recorded as author some fifteen years later, when The Virgin Martyr (1621) is given as the work of Massinger and Thomas Dekker.
During those early years as a playwright he wrote for the Elizabethan stage entrepreneur, Philip Henslowe. It was a difficult existence. Poverty was always close and there was constant pleading for advance payments on forthcoming works merely to survive.
After Henslowe died in 1616 Massinger and John Fletcher began to write primarily for the King's Men and Massinger would write regularly for them until his death.
The tone of the dedications in later plays suggests evidence of his continued poverty. In the preface of The Maid of Honour (1632) he wrote, addressing Sir Francis Foljambe and Sir Thomas Bland: I had not to this time subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies and favours.
The prologue to The Guardian (1633) refers to two unsuccessful plays and two years of silence, when the author feared he had lost popular favour although, from the little evidence that survives, it also seems he had involved some of his plays with political characters which would have cast shadows upon England’s alliances.
Philip Massinger died suddenly at his house near the Globe Theatre on March 17th, 1640. He was buried the next day in the churchyard of St. Saviour's, Southwark, on March 18th, 1640. In the entry in the parish register he is described as a stranger,
which, however, implies nothing more than that he belonged to another parish.
Index of Contents
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
SCENE: The country near Nottingham
ACT I
SCENE I. Before Tapwell's House
SCENE II. A Room in Lady Allworth's House
SCENE III. A Hall in the Same
ACT II
SCENE I. A Room in Overreach's House
SCENE II
SCENE III. The Country Near Lady Allworth's House
ACT III
SCENE I. The Country Near Overreach's House
SCENE II. A Room in Overreach's House
SCENE III. Another Room in Overreach's House
ACT IV
SCENE I. A Room in Lady Allworth's House
SCENE II. Before Tapwell's House
SCENE III. A Room in Overreach's House
ACT V
SCENE I. A Room in Lady Allworth's House
PHILIP MASSINGER – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY
PHILIP MASSINGER – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Lord Lovell, an English Lord
Sir Giles Overreach, a cruel Extortioner
Frank Wellborn, a Prodigal
Tom Allworth, a young Gentleman, Page to Lord Lovell
Greedy, a hungry Justice of Peace.
Marrall, a Term-Driver; a creature of Sir Giles Overreach
Order }
Amble } Servants to the
Furnace } Lady Allworth
Watchall }
Well-do, a Parson
Tapwell, an Alehouse keeper
Three Creditors
Lady Allworth, a rich Widow
Margaret, Overreach's Daughter
Waiting-Women
Froth, Tapwell's Wife
Chambermaid
SCENE: The country near Nottingham.
ACT I
SCENE I. Before Tapwell's House
Enter WELLBORN in tattered apparel, TAPWELL, and FROTH
WELLBORN
No bouse? nor no tobacco?
TAPWELL
Not a suck, sir;
Nor the remainder of a single can
Left by a drunken porter, all night pall'd too.
FROTH
Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir:
To verity, I assure you.
WELLBORN
Verity, YOU brache!
The devil turn'd precisian! Rogue, what am I?
TAPWELL
Troth, durst I trust you with a looking-glass,
To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me,
And take the name yourself.
WELLBORN
How, dog!
TAPWELL
Even so, sir.
And I must tell you, if you but advance
Your Pile-worn cloak, you shall be soon instructed
There dwells, and within call, if it please your worship,
A potent monarch, call'd the constable,
That does command a citadel call'd the stocks;
Whose guards are certain files of ratty bill men,
Such as with great dexterity will hale
Your tatter 'd, lousy
WELLBORN
Rascal! Slave!
FROTH
No rage, sir.
TAPWELL
At his own peril: Do not put yourself
In too much heat, there being no water near
To quench your thirst; and sure, for other liquor,
As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it,
You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir.
WELLBORN
Why, thou unthankful villain, dar'st thou talk thus!
Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?
TAPWELL
I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell
Does keep no other register.
WELLBORN
Am not I he
Whose riots fed and clothed thee? wert thou not
Born on my father's land, and proud to be
A drudge in his house?
TAPWELL
What I was, sir, it skills not;
What you are, is apparent: now, for a farewell,
Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you,
I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,
My quondam master, was a man of worship.
Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and quorum.
And stood fair to be custos rotulorum;
Bore the whole sway of the shire, kept a great house,
Relieved the poor, and so forth; bat he
And the twelve hundred a year coming to you,
Late master Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn.
WELLBORN
Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.
FROTH
Very hardly;
You cannot out of your way.
TAPWELL
But to my story:
You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant,
And I your under butler; note the change now:
You had a merry time of 't; hawks and hounds,
With choice of running horses: mistresses
Of all sorts and all sizes, yet so hot,
As their embraces made your lordships melt;
Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing,
(Resolving not to lose a drop of them,)
On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds,
For a while supplied your looseness, and then left you.
WELLBORN
Some curate hath penn'd this invective, mongrel,
And you have studied it.
TAPWELL
I have not done yet:
Your land gone, and your credit not worth a token,
You grew the common borrower; no man scaped
Your paper-pellets, from the gentleman
To the beggars on highways, that sold you switches
In your gallantry.
WELLBORN
I shall switch your brains out.
TAPWELL
Where poor Tim Tapwell, with a little stock,
Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage;
Humbled, myself to marriage with my Froth here,
Gave entertainment
WELLBORN
Yes, to whores and canters,
Clubbers by night.
TAPWELL
True, but they brought in profit,
And had a gift to pay for what they called for;
And stuck not like your mastership. The poor income
I glean'd from them hath made me in my parish
Thought worthy to be scavenger, and in time
May rise to be overseer of the poor;
Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn,
I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter,
And you shall thank my worship.
WELLBORN
Thus, you dog-bolt,
And thus
[Beats and kicks him.
TAPWELL [to his WIFE]
Cry out for help!
WELLBORN
Stir, and thou diest:
Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save you.
Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! did not I
Make purses for you? then you lick'd my boots,
And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to clean them.
'Twas I that, when I heard thee swear if ever
Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst
Live like an emperor, 'twas I that gave it
In ready gold. Deny this, wretch!
TAPWELL
I must, sir;
For, from the tavern to the taphouse, all,
On forfeiture of their licenses, stand bound
Ne'er to remember who their best guests were,
If they grew poor like you.
WELLBORN
They are well rewarded
That beggar themselves to make such cuckolds rich.
Thou viper, thankless viper! impudent bawd!
But since you are grown forgetful, I will help
Your memory, and.