Part 7

BEV. _The flame of zeal_—— SIR G. LAMB. _The wicked fire of lust Does now spread heat through water, air, and dust._ BEV. How! he’s out in the beginning. [_Aside._]—_The wheel of time_— WEA. The devil set fire o’ the distaff. [_Aside._ SIR G. LAMB. _I that was wont in elder times to pass For a bright angel—so they call’d me then— Now so corrupted with the upstart fires Of avarice, luxury, and inconstant heats, Struck from the bloods of cunning clap-faln daughters, Night-walking wives, but, most, libidinous widows, That I, that purify even gold itself, Have the contemptible dross thrown in my face, And my bright name walk common in disgrace. How am I us’d a’ late, that I’m so handled,— Thrust into alleys, hospitals, and tubs! I was once a name of comfort, warm’d great houses, When charity was landlord; I’ve given welcome To forty russet yeomen at a time, In a fair Christmas hall. How am I chang’d! The chimneys are swept up, the hearth as cold As the forefathers’ charity in the son; All the good, hospitable heat now turns To my young landlord’s lust, and there it burns: Rich widows, that were wont to choose by gravity Their second husbands, not by tricks of blood, Are now so taken with loose Aretine flames Of nimble wantonness and high-fed pride, They marry now but the third part of husbands, Boys, smooth-fac’d catamites, to fulfil their bed, As if a woman should a woman wed. These are the fires a’ late my brightness darks, And fills the world so full of beggarly sparks._ BEV. Hea[r]t, how am I disgrac’d! what rogue should this be? L. GOLD. By my faith, monsieur Fire, you’re a hot whorson! MIS. LOW. I fear my brother is beside his wits, He would not be so senseless to rail thus else. [_Aside._ WEA. _After this heat, you madams fat and fair, Open your casements wide, and take in air; But not that air false women make up oaths with, No, nor that air gallants perfume their clothes with; I am that air that keeps about the clouds, None of my kindred was smelt out in crowds; Not any of our house was ever tainted, When many a thousand of our foes have fainted: Yet some there are that be my chief polluters, Widows that falsify their faith to suitors, And will give fair words when the sign’s in Cancer, But, at the next remove, a scurvy answer; Come to the poor men’s houses, eat their banquet, And at night with a boy tost in a blanket; Nay, shall I come more near? perhaps at noon, For here I find a spot full in the moon: I know youth’s trick; what’s she that can withstand it, When Mercury reigns, my lady’s chamber-planet? He that believes a widow’s words shall fail, When Venus’ gown-skirts sweep[149] the Dragon’s tail; Fair weather the first day she makes to any, The second cloudy, and the third day rainy; The fourth day a great storm, lightning, and thunder; A bolt strikes the suitor, a boy keeps her under._ BEV. ’Life, these are some counterfeit slaves crept in their rooms, A’ purpose for disgrace! they shall all share with me: Heart, who the devil should these be? [_Exit._ L. GOLD. My faith, gentlemen, Air has perfum’d the room well! SIR O. TWI. So methinks, madam. SAV. A man may smell her meaning two rooms off, Though his nose wanted reparations, And the bridge left at Shoreditch, as a pledge For _rosa solis_, in a bleaking-house.[150] [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. Life, what should be his meaning in’t? LOW. I wonder. OVER. _Methinks this room should yet retain such heat, Struck out from the first ardour, and so glow yet, You should desire my company, wish for water, That offers here to serve your several pipes, Without constraint of mill or death of water-house. What if I sprinkled on the widow’s cheeks A few cool drops, to lay the guilty heat That flashes from her conscience to her face; Would’t not refresh her shame? From such as she I first took weakness and inconstancy; I sometimes swell above my banks and spread, They’re commonly with child before they’re wed; In me the Sirens sing before they play, In her more witchcraft, for her smiles betray; Where I’m least seen, there my most danger lies, So in those parts hid most from a man’s eyes, Her heart, her love, or what may be more close; I know no mercy, she thinks that no loss; In her poor gallants, pirates thrive in me; I help to cast away, and so does she._ L. GOLD. Nay, and[151] you can hold nothing, sweet sir Water, I’ll wash my hands a’ you ever hereafter. PEP. _Earth stands for a full point, me you should hire To stop the gaps of Water, Air, and Fire: I love muck well, but your first husband better, Above his soul he lov’d it, as his end Did fearfully witness it; at his last gasp His spirit flam’d as it forsook his breast, And left the sparkles quarrelling ’bout his lips, Now of such metal the devil makes him whips; He shall have gold enough to glut his soul, And as for earth, I’ll stop his crane’s throat full: The wealth he left behind him, most men know, He wrung inconscionably from the rights Of poor men’s livings, he drunk dry their brows; That liquor has a curse, yet nothing sweeter; When your posterity drinks, then ’twill taste bitter._ SIR G. LAMB. _And now to vex, ’gainst nature, form, rule, place, See once four warring[152] elements all embrace!_ [_The Elements embrace._

_Re-enter, at several corners_, BEVERIL _with three other persons, attired like the four Winds, with wings, &c., the South Wind having a great red face, the North Wind a pale, bleak one; the Western Wind one cheek red and another white, and so the Eastern Wind: they dance to the drum and fife, while the four Elements seem to give back and stand in amaze: at the end of the dance the Winds strip the Elements of their disguises, which seem to yield and almost fall off of themselves at the coming of the Winds. Exeunt all the Winds except that represented by_ BEVERIL.

L. GOLD. How! sir Gilbert Lambstone! master Overdone! All our old suitors! you’ve took pains, my masters! SIR G. LAMB. We made a vow we’d speak our minds to you. WEA. And I think we’re as good as our words, though it cost some of our purses; I owe money for the clouds yet, I care not who knows it; the planets are sufficient enough to pay the painter, and[153] I were dead. L. GOLD. Who are you, sir? BEV. Your most unworthy servant. [_Discovering himself._ L. GOLD. Pardon me; is’t you, sir? BEV. My disgrace urg’d my wit to take some form, Wherein I might both best and properliest Discover my abusers and your own, And shew you some content,—before y’had none. L. GOLD. Sir, I owe much both to your care and love, And you shall find your full requital worthy.— Was this the plot now your poor envy works out? I do revenge myself with pitying on you.— Take Fire into the buttery, he has most need on’t; Give Water some small beer, too good for him;— Air, you may walk abroad like a fortune-teller;— But take down Earth, and make him drink i’ the cellar. [_Exeunt_ SIR G. LAMBSTONE, WEATHERWISE, OVERDONE, _and_ PEPPERTON, _with_ LOW-WATER. MIS. LOW. The best revenge that could be! L. TWI. I commend you, madam. SIR O. TWI. I thought they were some such sneakers. SAV. The four suitors! and here was a mess of mad elements! MIS. LOW. Lights, more lights there! where be these blue-coats?[154]

_Enter Servants with lights._

L. GOLD. You know your lodgings, gentlemen, to-night. SIR O. TWI. ’Tis bounty makes bold guests, madam. L. GOLD. Good rest, lady. SIR O. TWI. A most contentful night begin a health, madam, To your long joys, and may the years go round with’t! L. GOLD. As many thanks as you have wish’d ’em hours, sir, Take to your lodging with you. MIS. LOW. A general rest to all. [_Exeunt with Servants all the guests except_ PHILIP TWILIGHT _and_ SAVOURWIT. PHIL. I’m excepted. SAV. Take in another to you then; there’s room enough In that exception, faith, to serve us both; The dial of my sleep goes by your eyes. [_Exeunt_ PHILIP TWILIGHT _and_ SAVOURWIT. _Scene closes._[155]

ACT V. SCENE I.

_The same._

LADY GOLDENFLEECE, _and_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _disguised as before, are discovered_.

L. GOLD. Now, like a greedy usurer alone, I sum up all the wealth this day has brought me, And thus I hug it. [_Embracing her._ MIS. LOW. Prithee—— L. GOLD. Thus I kiss it. [_Kissing her._ MIS. LOW. I can’t abide these kissings. L. GOLD. How, sir? not! I’ll try that, sure; I’ll kiss you out of that humour. MIS. LOW. Push![156] by my troth, I cannot. L. GOLD. What cannot you, sir? MIS. LOW. Not toy, nor bill, and imitate house-pigeons; A married man must think of other matters. L. GOLD. How, other matters, sir? what other matters? MIS. LOW. Why, are there no other matters that belong to’t? Do you think you’ve married only a cock-sparrow, And fit but for one business, like a fool? You shall not find it so. L. GOLD. You can talk strangely, sir: Come, will you to bed? MIS. LOW. No, faith, will not I. L. GOLD. What, not to bed, sir? MIS. LOW. And[157] I do, hang me; not to bed with you. L. GOLD. How, not to bed with me, sir? with whom else? MIS. LOW. Why, am not I enough to lie with myself? L. GOLD. Is that the end of marriage? MIS. LOW. No, by my faith, ’Tis but the beginning yet; death is the end on’t, Unless some trick come i’ the middle and dash all. L. GOLD. Were you so forward lately, and so youthful, That scarce my modest strength could save me from you, And are you now so cold? MIS. LOW. I’ve thought on’t since; It was but a rude part in me, i’faith, To offer such bold tricks to any woman, And by degrees I shall well break myself from’t; I feel myself well chasten’d since that time, And not the third part now so loosely minded. O, when one sees their follies, ’tis a comfort! My very thoughts take more staid years upon ’em. O, marriage is such a serious, divine thing! It makes youth grave, and sweetly nips the spring. L. GOLD. If I had chose a gentleman for care And worldly business, I had ne’er took you; I had the offers of enough more fit For such employment; I chose you for love, Youth, and content of heart, and not for troubles; You are not ripe for them; after you’ve spent Some twenty years in dalliance, youth’s affairs, Then take a book in your hand, and sum up cares; As for wealth now, you know that’s got to your hands. MIS. LOW. But had I known ’t had been so wrongfully got, As I heard since, you should have had free leave T’ have made choice of another master for’t. L. GOLD. Why, can that trouble you? MIS. LOW. It may too soon: but go, My sleeps are sound, I love not to be started With an ill conscience at the fall of midnight, And have mine eyes torn ope with poor men’s curses; I do not like the fate on’t, ’tis still apt To breed unrest, dissension, wild debate, And I’m the worst at quarrels upon earth, Unless a mighty injury should provoke me: Get you to bed, go. L. GOLD. Not without you, in troth, sir. MIS. LOW. If you could think how much you wrong yourself In my opinion of you, you would leave me now With all the speed you might; I like you worse For this fond heat, and drink in more suspicion of you: You high-fed widows are too cunning people For a poor gentleman to come simply to. L. GOLD. What’s that, sir? MIS. LOW. You may make a youth on him, ’Tis at your courtesy, and that’s ill trusted: You could not want a friend, beside a suitor, To sit in your husband’s gown, and look o’er your writings. L. GOLD. What’s this? MIS. LOW. I say there is a time when women Can do too much, and understand too little: Once more, to bed; I’d willingly be a father To no more noses than I got myself; And so good night to you. L. GOLD. Now I see the infection; A yellow poison runs through the sweet spring Of his fair youth already; ’tis distracted, Jealous of that which thought yet never acted.— [_Aside._ O dear sir, on my knees I swear to thee— [_Kneels._ MIS. LOW. I prithee, use them in thy private chamber, As a good lady should; spare ’em not there, ’Twill do thee good; faith, none ’twill do thee here. L. GOLD. [_rising_] Have I yet married poverty, and miss’d[158] love! What fortune has my heart! that’s all I crav’d, And that lies now a-dying; it has took A speeding poison, and I’m ignorant how: I never knew what beggary was till now. My wealth yields me no comfort in this plight; Had want but brought me love, I’d happen’d right. [_Aside, and goes into her bed-chamber._ MIS. LOW. So, this will serve now for a preparative To ope the powers[159] of some dislike at first; The physic will pay’t home.—

_Enter_ LOW-WATER, _disguised as before_.

How dost thou, sir? How goes the work? LOW. Your brother has the letter. MIS. LOW. I find no stop in’t then, it moves well hitherto; Did you convey it closely? LOW. He ne’er set eye of me.

_Enter above[160]_ BEVERIL _with a letter_.

BEV. I cannot read too often. MIS. LOW. Peace; to your office. BEV. What blessed fate took pity of my heart, But with her presence to relieve me thus? All the large volumes that my time hath master’d Are not so precious to adorn my spirit As these few lines are to enrich my mind; I thirst again to drink of the same fountain. [_Reads._ _Kind sir,—I found your care and love so much in the performance of a little, wherein your wit and art had late employment, that I dare now trust your bosom with business of more weight and eminence. Little thought the world, that, since the wedding-dinner, all my mirth was but dissembled, and seeming joys but counterfeit. The truth to you, sir, is, I find so little signs of content in the bargain I made i’ the morning, that I began to repent before evening prayer; and to shew some fruits of his wilful neglect and wild disposition, more than the day could bring forth to me, has now forsook my bed; I know no cause for’t._ MIS. LOW. But I’ll be sworn I do. [_Aside._ BEV. [_reads_] _Being thus distressed, sir, I desire your comfortable presence and counsel, whom I know to be of worth and judgment, that a lady may safely impart her griefs to you, and commit ’em to the virtues of commiseration and secrecy.—Your unfortunate friend_, THE WIDOW-WIFE. _I have took order for your private admittance with a trusty servant of mine own, whom I have placed at my chamber-door to attend your coming._ He shall not wait too long, and curse my slowness. LOW. I would you’d come away then! [_Aside._ BEV. How much am I beguil’d in that young gentleman! I would have sworn had been the perfect abstract Of honesty and mildness; ’tis not so. MIS. LOW. I pardon you, sweet brother; there’s no hold Of what you speak now, you’re in Cupid’s pound. [_Aside._ BEV. Blest be the secret hand that brought thee hither; But the dear hand that writ it, ten times blest! [_Exit above._ LOW. That’s I still; has blest me now ten times at twice. Away; I hear him coming. MIS. LOW. Strike it sure now. LOW. I warrant thee, sweet Kate; choose your best—— [161] [_Exit_ MIS. LOW-WATER.

_Enter_ BEVERIL.

BEV. Who’s there? LOW. O sir, is’t you? you’re welcome then; My lady still expects you, sir. BEV. Who’s with her? LOW. Not any creature living, sir. BEV. Drink that; [_Giving money._ I’ve made thee wait too long. LOW. It does not seem so Now, sir. Sir, if a man tread warily, As any wise man will, how often may he come To a lady’s chamber, and be welcome to her! BEV. Thou giv’st me learnèd counsel for a closet. LOW. Make use on’t, sir, and you shall find no loss in’t. [BEVERIL _goes into_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE’S _bed-chamber_. So, you are surely in, and you must under.

_Re-enter_ MIS. LOW-WATER, _with_ SIR O. TWILIGHT, LADY TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _Dutch Merchant_, GRACE, JANE, PHILIP TWILIGHT, SANDFIELD, SAVOURWIT, _and Servants_.

MIS. LOW. Pardon my rude disturbance, my wrongs urge it; I did but try the plainness of her mind, Suspecting she dealt cunningly with my youth, And told her the first night I would not know her; But minding to return, I found the door Warded suspiciously, and I heard a noise, Such as fear makes and guiltiness at th’ approaching Of an unlook’d-for husband. ALL. This is strange, sir. MIS. LOW. Behold, it’s barr’d; I must not be kept out. SIR O. TWI. There is no reason, sir. MIS. LOW. I’ll be resolv’d[162] in’t: If you be sons of honour, follow me! [_Rushes into the bed-chamber, followed by_ SIR OLIVER TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _&c._ SAV. Then must I stay behind; for I think I was begot i’ the woodyard, and that makes every thing go so hard with me. MIS. LOW. [_within_] That’s he; be sure on him.

_Re-enter confusedly_ MIS. LOW-WATER, SIR OLIVER TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _&c._, LADY GOLDENFLEECE _and_ BEVERIL.

SIR O. TWI. Be not so furious, sir. MIS. LOW. She whisper’d to him to slip into her closet.— What, have I taken you? is not my dream true now? Unmerciful adultress, the first night! SIR O. TWI. Nay, good sir, patience. MIS. LOW. Give me the villain’s heart, That I may throw’t into her bosom quick! There let the lecher pant. L. TWI. Nay, sweet sir—— MIS. LOW. Pardon me, His life’s too little for me. L. GOLD. How am I wrongfully sham’d!—Speak your intent, sir, Before this company; I pursue no pity. MIS. LOW. This is a fine thievish juggling, gentlemen, She asks her mate that shares in guilt with her; Too gross, too gross! BEV. Rash mischief! [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. Treacherous sir, Did I for this cast a friend’s arm about thee, Gave thee the welcome of a worthy spirit, And lodg’d thee in my house, nay, entertain’d thee More like a natural brother than a stranger? And have I this reward? perhaps the pride Of thy good parts did lift thee to this impudence; Let her make much on ’em, she gets none of me: Because thou’rt deeply read in most books else, Thou wouldst be so in mine; there it stands for thee, Turn o’er the leaves, and where you left, go forward; To me it shall be like the book of fate, Ever claspt up. SIR O. TWI. O dear sir, say not so! MIS. LOW. Nay, I’ll swear more; for ever I refuse[163] her; I’ll never set a foot into her bed, Never perform the duty of man to her, So long as I have breath. SIR O. TWI. What an oath was there, sir! Call it again. MIS. LOW. I knew, by amorous sparks struck from their eyes, The fire would appear shortly in a blaze, And now it flames indeed.—Out of my house, And take your gentleman of good parts along with you! That shall be all your substance; he can live In any emperor’s court in Christendom: You knew[164] what you did, wench, when you chose him To thrust out me; you have no[165] politic love! You are to learn to make your market, you! You can choose wit, a burden light and free, And leave the grosser element with me, Wealth, foolish trash; I thank you. Out of my doors! SIR O. TWI. Nay, good sir, hear her. L. TWI. } Sweet sir—— SUN. } MIS. LOW. Pray, to your chambers, gentlemen; I should be here Master of what is mine. SIR O. TWI. Hear her but speak, sir. MIS. LOW. What can she speak but woman’s common language? She’s sorry and asham’d for’t,—that helps nothing. L. GOLD. Sir, since it is the hard hap of my life To receive injury where I plac’d my love—— MIS. LOW. Why, la, I told you what escapes she’d have! SIR O. TWI. Nay, pray, sir, hear her forward. L. GOLD. Let our parting Be full as charitable as our meeting was; That the pale, envious world, glad of the food Of others’ miseries, civil dissensions, And nuptial strifes, may not feed fat with ours; But since you are resolv’d so wilfully To leave my bed, and ever to refuse me— As by your rage I find it your desire, Though all my actions deserve nothing less— Here are our friends, men both of worth and wisdom; Place so much power in them, to make an evenness Between my peace and yours: all my wealth within doors, In gold and jewels, lie[s] in those two caskets I lately led you to, the value of which Amounts to some five thousand [pounds] a-piece; Exchange a charitable hand with me, And take one casket freely,—fare thee well, sir. SIR O. TWI. How say you to that now? MIS. LOW. Troth, I thank her, sir! Are not both mine already? you shall wrong me, And then make satisfaction with mine own! I cannot blame you,—a good course for you! L. GOLD. I knew[166] ’twas not my luck to be so happy; My miseries are no starters; when they come, Stick longer by me. SIR O. TWI. Nay, but give me leave, sir, The wealth comes all by her. MIS. LOW. So does the shame, Yet that’s most mine; why should not that be too? SIR O. TWI. Sweet sir, let us rule[167] so much with you; Since you intend an obstinate separation, Both from her bed and board, give your consent To some agreement reasonable and honest. MIS. LOW. Must I deal honestly with her lust? L. TWI. Nay, good sir—— MIS. LOW. Why, I tell you, all the wealth her husband left her Is not of power to purchase the dear peace My heart has lost in these adulterous seas; Yet let her works be base, mine shall be noble. SIR O. TWI. That’s the best word of comfort I heard yet. MIS. LOW. Friends may do much.—Go, bring those caskets forth.— [_Exeunt two Servants._ I hate her sight; I’ll leave her, though I lose by’t. SIR O. TWI. Spoke like a noble gentleman, i’faith! I’ll honour thee for this. BEV. O cursed man! Must thy rash heat force this division? [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. You shall have free leave now, without all fear; You shall not need oil’d hinges, privy passages, Watchings and whisperings; take him boldly to you. L. GOLD. O that I had that freedom! since my shame Puts by all other fortunes, and owns him, A worthy gentleman: if this cloud were past him, I’d marry him, were’t but to spite thee only, So much I hate thee now.

_Re-enter Servants with two caskets, followed by_ SIR GILBERT LAMBSTONE, WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, _and_ OVERDONE.