Part 23

FIRST SUIT. May it please your worship to give me leave? TAN. I give you leave, sir; you have your _veniam_.—Now fill me a brown toast, sirrah. GROOM. Will you have no drink to’t, sir? TAN. Is that a question in law? GROOM. Yes, in the lowest court, i’ th’ cellar, sir. TAN. Let me ha’t removed presently, sir. GROOM. It shall be done, sir. [_Exit._ TAN. Now as you were saying, sir,—I’ll come to you immediately too. PHŒ. O, very well, sir. TAN. I’m a little busy, sir. FIRST SUIT. But as how, sir? TAN. I pray, sir? FIRST SUIT. Has brought me into the court; marry, my adversary has not declared yet. TAN. _Non declaravit adversarius_, sayest thou? what a villain’s that! I have a trick to do thee good: I will get thee out a proxy, and make him declare, with a pox to him. FIRST SUIT. That will make him declare to his sore grief; I thank your good worship: but put case he do declare? TAN. _Si declarasset_, if he should declare there—— FIRST SUIT. I would be loath to stand out to the judgment of that court. TAN. _Non ad judicium_, do you fear corruption? then I’ll relieve you again; you shall get a _supersedeas non molestandum_, and remove it higher. FIRST SUIT. Very good. TAN. Now if it should ever come to a _testificandum_, what be his witnesses? FIRST SUIT. I little fear his witnesses. TAN. _Non metuis testes?_ more valiant man than Orestes. FIRST SUIT. Please you, sir, to dissolve this into wine, ale, or beer. [_Giving money._] I come a hundred mile to you, I protest, and leave all other counsel behind me. TAN. Nay, you shall always find me a sound card: I stood not a’ th’ pillory for nothing in 88; all the world knows that.—Now let me despatch you, sir.—I come to you _presenter_. SECOND SUIT. Faith, the party hath removed both body and cause with a _habeas corpus_. TAN. Has he that knavery? but has he put in bail above, canst tell? SECOND SUIT. That I can assure your worship he has not. TAN. Why, then, thy best course shall be, to lay out more money, take out a _procedendo_, and bring down the cause and him with a vengeance. SECOND SUIT. Then he will come indeed. TAN. As for the other party, let the _audita querela_ alone; take me out a special _supplicavit_, which will cost you enough, and then you pepper him. For the first party after the _procedendo_ you’ll get costs; the cause being found, you’ll have a judgment; _nunc pro tunc_, you’ll get a _venire facias_ to warn your jury, a _decem tales_ to fill up the number, and a _capias utlagatum_ for your execution. SECOND SUIT. I thank you, my learned counsel. PHŒ. What a busy caterpillar’s this! let’s accost him in that manner. FID. Content, my lord. PHŒ. O my old admirable fellow, how have I all this while thirsted to salute thee! I knew thee in _octavo_ of the duke—— TAN. In _octavo_ of the duke? I remember the year well. PHŒ. By th’ mass, a lusty, proper[820] man! TAN. O, was I? PHŒ. But still in law. TANG. Still in law? I had not breathed else now; ’tis very marrow, very manna to me to be in law; I’d been dead ere this else. I have found such sweet pleasure in the vexation of others, that I could wish my years over and over again, to see that fellow a beggar, that bawling knave a gentleman, a matter brought e’en to a judgment to-day, as far as e’er ’twas to begin again to- morrow: O raptures! here a writ of demur, there a _procedendo_, here a _sursurrara_,[821] there a _capiendo_, tricks, delays, money-laws! PHŒ. Is it possible, old lad? TAN. I have been a term-trotter[822] myself any time this five and forty years; a goodly time and a gracious: in which space I ha’ been at least sixteen times beggared, and got up again; and in the mire again, that I have stunk again, and yet got up again. PHŒ. And so clean and handsome now? TAN. You see it apparently; I cannot hide it from you: nay, more, in _felici hora_ be it spoken, you see I’m old, yet have I at this present nine and twenty suits in law. PHŒ. Deliver us, man! TAN. And all not worth forty shillings. PHŒ. May it be believed? TAN. The pleasure of a man is all. PHŒ. An old fellow, and such a stinger! TAN. A stake pulled out of my hedge, there’s one; I was well beaten, I remember, that’s two; I took one a-bed with my wife again[823] her will, that’s three; I was called cuckold for my labour, that’s four; I took another a-bed again, that’s five; then one called me wittol,[824] that’s six; he killed my dog for barking, seven; my maid-servant was knocked at that time, eight; my wife miscarried with a push, nine; _et sic de cæteris_. I have so vexed and beggared the whole parish with process, subpœnas, and such-like molestations, they are not able to spare so much ready money from a term, as would set up a new weathercock; the churchwardens are fain to go to law with the poors’ money. PHŒ. Fie, fie! TAN. And I so fetch up all the men every term-time, that ’tis impossible to be at civil cuckoldry within ourselves, unless the whole country rise upon our wives. FID. A’ my faith, a pretty policy! PHŒ. Nay, an excellent stratagem: but of all I most wonder at the continual substance of thy wit, that, having had so many suits in law from time to time, thou hast still money to relieve ’em. FID. Has the best fortune for that; I never knew him without. TAN. Why do you so much wonder at that? Why, this is my course: my mare and I come up some five days before a term. PHŒ. A good decorum! TAN. Here I lodge, as you see, amongst inns and places of most receipt—— PHŒ. Very wittily. TAN. By which advantage I dive into countrymen’s causes; furnish ’em with knavish counsel, little to their profit; buzzing into their ears this course, that writ, this office, that _ultimum refugium_; as you know I have words enow for the purpose. PHŒ. Enow a’ conscience, i’faith. TAN. Enow a’ law, no matter for conscience. For which busy and laborious sweating courtesy, they cannot choose but feed me with money, by which I maintain mine own suits: hoh, hoh, hoh! PHŒ. Why, let me hug thee: caper in mine arms. TAN. Another special trick I have, no body must know it, which is, to prefer most of those men to one attorney, whom I affect best: to answer which kindness of mine, he will sweat the better in my cause, and do them the less good: take’t of my word, I helped my attorney to more clients the last term than he will despatch all his lifetime; I did it. PHŒ. What a noble, memorable deed was there!

_Re-enter Groom._

GROOM. Sir. TAN. Now, sir? GROOM. There’s a kind of captain very robustiously inquires for you. TAN. For me? a man of war? A man of law is fit for a man of war: we have no leisure to say prayers; we both kill a’ Sunday mornings. I’ll not be long from your sweet company. PHŒ. O, no, I beseech you. [_Exit_ TANGLE _with Groom_. FID. What captain might this be? PHŒ. Thou angel sent amongst us, sober Law, Made with meek eyes, persuading action, No loud immodest tongue, Voic’d like a virgin, and as chaste from sale, Save only to be heard, but not to rail; How has abuse deform’d thee to all eyes, That where thy virtues sat, thy vices rise! Yet why so rashly for one villain’s fault Do I arraign whole man? Admired Law, Thy upper parts must needs be sacred, pure,[825] And incorruptible; they’re grave and wise: ’Tis but the dross beneath ’em, and the clouds That get between thy glory and their praise, That make the visible and foul eclipse; For those that are near to thee are upright, As noble in their conscience as their birth; Know that damnation is in every bribe, And rarely[826] put it from ’em; rate the presenters, And scourge ’em with five years’ imprisonment, For offering but to tempt ’em. Thus is true justice exercis’d and us’d: Woe to the giver when the bribe’s refus’d! ’Tis not their will to have law worse than war, Where still the poor’st die first; To send a man without a sheet to his grave, Or bury him in his papers; ’Tis not their mind it should be, nor to have A suit hang longer than a man in chains, Let him be ne’er so fasten’d. They least know That are above the tedious steps below: I thank my time, I do. FID. I long to know what captain this should be. PHŒ. See where the bane of every cause returns.

_Re-enter_ TANGLE _with_ CAPTAIN.

FID. ’S foot, ’tis the captain my father-in-law, my lord. PHŒ. Take heed. CAP. The divorce shall rest then, and the five hundred crowns shall stand in full force and virtue. TAN. Then do you wisely, captain. CAP. Away sail I: fare thee well. TAN. A lusty crack of wind go with thee! CAP. But ah—— TAN. Hah? CAP. Remember, a scrivener. TAN. I’ll have him for thee. [_Exit_ CAPTAIN.]—Why, thus am I sought after by all professions. Here’s a weather-beaten captain, who, not long since new married to a lady widow, would now fain have sued a divorce between her and him, but that her honesty is his only hinderance: to be rid of which, he does determine to turn her into white money; and there’s a lord, his chapman, has bid five hundred crowns for her already. FID. How? TAN. Or for his part or whole in her. PHŒ. Why, does he mean to sell his wife? TAN. His wife? Ay, by th’ mass, he would sell his soul if he knew what merchant would lay out money upon’t; and some of ’em have need of one, they swear so fast. PHŒ. Why, I never heard of the like. TAN. _Non audivisti_, didst ne’er hear of that trick? Why, Pistor, a baker, sold his wife t’other day to a cheesemonger, that made cake and cheese; another to a cofferer; a third to a common player: why, you see ’tis common. Ne’er fear the captain: he has not so much wit to be a precedent himself. I promised to furnish him with an odd scrivener of mine own, to draw the bargain and sale of his lady. Your horses stand here, gentlemen?[827] PHŒ. Ay, ay, ay. TAN. I shall be busily plunged till towards bedtime above the chin _in profundis_. [_Exit._ PHŒ. What monstrous days are these! Not only to be vicious most men study, But in it to be ugly; strive to exceed Each other in the most deformed deed. FID. Was this her private choice? did she neglect The presence and opinion of her friends For this? PHŒ. I wonder who that one should be, Should so disgrace that reverend name of lord, So loathsomely to buy adultery? FID. We may make means to know. PHŒ. Take courage, man; we’ll beget some defence. FID. I’m[828] bound by nature. PHŒ. I by conscience. To sell his lady! Indeed, she was a beast To marry him; and so he makes of her.— Come, I’ll thorough now I’m enter’d. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE V.

_A Street._

_Enter Jeweller’s Wife and Boy._

JEW. WIFE. Is my sweet knight coming? are you certain he’s coming? BOY. Certain, forsooth; I am sure I saw him out of the barber’s shop, ere I would come away. JEW. WIFE. A barber’s shop? O, he’s a trim knight! would he venture his body into a barber’s shop, when he knows ’tis as dangerous as a piece of Ireland? O, yonder, yonder he comes! Get you back again, and look you say as I advised you. BOY. You know me, mistress. JEW. WIFE. My mask, my mask. [_Exit Boy._

_Enter_ KNIGHT, _and Lackey following at some distance_.

KNIGHT. My sweet Revenue! JEW. WIFE. My Pleasure, welcome! I have got single; none but you shall accompany me to the justice of peace, my father’s. KNIGHT. Why, is thy father justice of peace, and I not know it? JEW. WIFE. My father? i’faith, sir, ay; simply though I stand here a citizen’s wife, I am a justice of peace’s daughter. KNIGHT. I love thee the better for thy birth. JEW. WIFE. Is that your lackey yonder, in the steaks[829] of velvet? KNIGHT. He’s at thy service, my sweet Revenue, for thy money paid for ’em. JEW. WIFE. Why, then, let him run a little before, I beseech thee; for, a’ my troth, he will discover us else. KNIGHT. He shall obey thee.—Before, sirrah, trudge. [_Exit Lackey._]—But do you mean to lie at your father’s all night? JEW. WIFE. Why should I desire your company else? KNIGHT. ’S foot, where shall I lie then? JEW. WIFE. What an idle question’s that! why, do you think I cannot make room for you in my father’s house as well as in my husband’s? they’re both good for nothing else. KNIGHT. A man so resolute in valour as a woman in desire, were an absolute leader. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE VI.

_A Room in_ FALSO’S _House_.

_Enter_ FALSO _and two Suitors_.

FIRST SUIT. May it please your good worship, master justice—— FAL. Please me and please yourself; that’s my word. FIRST SUIT. The party your worship sent for will by no means be brought to appear. FAL. He will not? then what would you advise me to do therein? FIRST SUIT. Only to grant your worship’s warrant, which is of sufficient force to compel him. FAL. No, by my faith, you shall not have me in that trap: am I sworn justice of peace, and shall I give my warrant to fetch a man against his will? why, there the peace is broken. We must do all quietly: if he come, he’s welcome; and as far as I can see yet, he’s a fool to be absent,—ay, by this gold is he—which he gave me this morning.

[_Aside._ FIRST SUIT. Why, but may it please your good worship— FAL. I say again, please me and please yourself; that’s my word still. FIRST SUIT. Sir, the world esteems it a common favour, upon the contempt of the party, the justice to grant his warrant. FAL. Ay, ’tis so common, ’tis the worse again; ’twere the better for me ’twere otherwise. FIRST SUIT. I protest, sir, and this gentleman can say as much, it lies upon my half undoing. FAL. I cannot see yet that it should be so,—I see not a cross ye.[830] [_Aside._ FIRST SUIT. I beseech your worship shew me your immediate favour, and accept this small trifle but as a remembrance to my succeeding thankfulness. FAL. Angels?[831] I’ll not meddle with them; you give ’em to my wife, not to me. FIRST SUIT. Ay, ay, sir. FAL. But I pray tell me now, did the party viva voce, with his own mouth, deliver that contempt, that he would not appear, or did you but jest in’t? FIRST SUIT. Jest? no, a’ my troth, sir; such was his insolent answer. FAL. And do you think it stood with my credit to put up such an abuse? Will he not appear, says he? I’ll make him appear with a vengeance.—Latronello!

_Enter_ LATRONELLO.

LAT. Does your worship call? FAL. Draw me a strong-limbed warrant for the gentleman speedily; he will be bountiful to thee.—Go and thank him within. FIRST SUIT. I shall know your worship hereafter. FAL. Ay, I prithee do. [_Exeunt Suitors with_ LATRONELLO.] Two angels one party, four another: and I think it a great spark of wisdom and policy, if a man come to me for justice, first to know his griefs by his fees, which be light, and which be heavy; he may counterfeit else, and make me do justice for nothing: I like not that; for when I mean to be just, let me be paid well for’t: the deed so rare purges the bribe.

_Enter_ FURTIVO.

How now? what’s the news, thou art come so hastily? how fares my knightly brother? FUR. Troth, he ne’er fared worse in his life, sir; he ne’er had less stomach to his meat since I knew him. FAL. Why, sir? FUR. Indeed he’s dead, sir. FAL. How, sir? FUR. Newly deceased, I can assure your worship: the tobacco-pipe new dropt out of his mouth before I took horse; a shrewd sign; I knew then there was no way but one with him; the poor pipe was the last man he took leave of in this world, who fell in three pieces before him, and seemed to mourn inwardly, for it looked as black i’ th’ mouth as my master. FAL. Would he die so like a politician, and not once write his mind to me? FUR. No, I’ll say that for him, sir, he died in the perfect state of memory; made your worship his full and whole executor, bequeathing his daughter, and with her all his wealth, only to your disposition. FAL. Did he make such a godly end, sayest thou? did he die so comfortably, and bequeath all to me? FUR. Your niece is at hand, sir, the will, and the witnesses. FAL. What a precious joy and comfort’s this, that a justice’s brother can die so well, nay, in such a good and happy memory, to make me full executor! Well, he was too honest to live, and that made him die so soon. Now I beshrew my heart, I am glad he’s in heaven, has left all his cares and troubles with me, and that great vexation of telling of money: yet I hope he had so much grace before he died to turn his white money into gold, a great ease to his executor. FUR. See, here comes your niece, my young mistress, sir.

_Enter_ NIECE _and two Gentlemen_.

FAL. Ah, my sweet niece, let me kiss thee, and drop a tear between thy lips! one tear from an old man is a great matter; the cocks of age are dry. Thou hast lost a virtuous father, to gain a notable uncle. NIECE. My hopes now rest in you next under heaven. FAL. Let ’em rest, let ’em rest. FIRST GENT. Sir—— FAL. You’re most welcome ere ye begin, sir. FIRST GENT. We are both led by oath and dreadful promise, Made to the dying man at his last sense, First to deliver these into your hands, The sureties and revealers of his state—— [_Giving papers._ FAL. Good. FIRST GENT. With this his only daughter, and your niece, Whose fortunes are at your disposing set; Uncle and father are in you both met. FAL. Good, i’faith; a well-spoken gentleman! You’re not an esquire, sir? FIRST GENT. Not, sir. FAL. Not, sir? more’s the pity; by my faith, better men than you are, but a great many worse: you see I have been a scholar in my time, though I’m a justice now.—Niece, you’re most happily welcome: the charge of you is wholly and solely mine own; and since you are so fortunately come, niece, I’ll rest a perpetual widower.

NIECE. I take the meaning chaster than the words: Yet I hope well of both, since it is thus, His phrase offends least that’s known humorous. FAL. [_reading the will._] _I make my brother_, says he, _full and whole executor_: honestly done of him, i’faith! seldom can a man get such a brother: and here again says he, very virtuously, _I bequeath all to him and his disposing_. An excellent fellow, a’ my troth! Would you might all die no worse, gentlemen!

_Enter_ KNIGHT _and_ JEWELLER’S WIFE.

FIRST GENT. But as much better as might be. KNIGHT. Bless your uprightness, master justice! FAL. You’re most soberly welcome, sir.—Daughter, you’ve that ye kneel for: rise, salute your weeping cousin. JEW. WIFE. Weeping, cousin? NIECE. Ay, cousin. KNIGHT. Eye to weeping is very proper, and so is the party that spake it; believe me, a pretty, fine, slender, straight, delicate-knit body:

O, how it moves a pleasure through our senses! How small are women’s waists to their expenses! I cannot see her face, that’s under water yet. JEW. WIFE. News as cold to the heart as an old man’s kindness; my uncle dead! NIECE. I have lost the dearest father! FAL. [_reading the will._] _If she marry by your consent, choice, and liking, make her dowry five thousand crowns_: hum, five thousand crowns? therefore by my consent she shall ne’er marry; I will neither choose for her, like of it, nor consent to’t. [_Aside._ KNIGHT. Now, by the pleasure of my blood, a pretty cousin! I would not care if I were as near kin to her as I have been to her kinswoman. [_Aside._ FAL. Daughter, what gentleman might this be? JEW. WIFE. No gentleman, sir; he’s a knight. FAL. Is he but a knight? troth, I would a’ sworn had been a gentleman, to see, to see, to see. JEW. WIFE. He’s my husband’s own brother, I can tell you, sir. FAL. Thy husband’s brother? speak certainly, prithee. JEW. WIFE. I can assure you, father, my husband and he have[833] lain both in one belly. FAL. I’ll swear then he is his brother indeed, and by the surer side.—I crave hearty pardon, sweet kinsman, that thou hast stood so long unsaluted in the way of kindred:

Welcome[834] to my board: I have a bed for thee: My daughter’s husband’s brother shall command Keys of my chests and chambers: I have stable for thy horse, chamber for thyself, And a loft above for thy lousy lackey, all fit. Away with handkerchers, [and] dry up eyes: At funeral we must cry; now let’s be wise. [_Exeunt all but_ KNIGHT _and_ JEWELLER’S WIFE. JEW. WIFE. I told you his affection. KNIGHT.[835] It falls sweetly. JEW. WIFE. But here I bar you from all plots to-night, The time is yet too heavy to be light. KNIGHT. Why, I’m content; I’ll sleep as chaste as you, And wager night by night who keeps most true. JEW. WIFE. Well, we shall see your temper. [_Exeunt._

## ACT II. SCENE I.

_A Room in an Inn._

_Enter_ PHŒNIX _and_ FIDELIO.

PHŒ. Fear not me, Fidelio: become you that invisible ropemaker the scrivener, that binds a man as he walks, yet all his joints at liberty, as well as I’ll fit that common folly of gentry, the easy-affecting venturer; and no doubt our purpose will arrive most happily. FID. Chaste duty, my lord, works powerfully in me; and rather than the poor lady my mother should fall upon the common side of rumour to beggar her name, I would not only undergo all habits, offices, disguised professions, though e’en opposite to the temper my blood holds; but in the stainless quarrel of her reputation, alter my shape for ever. PHŒ. I love thee wealthier; thou hast a noble touch:[836] and by this means, which is the only safe means to preserve thy mother from such an ugly land and sea monster as a counterfeit captain is, he resigning and basely selling all his estate, title, right, and interest in his lady, as the form of the writing shall testify, What otherwise can follow but to have A lady safe deliver’d of a knave? FID. I am in debt my life to the free goodness of your inventions. PHŒ. O, they must ever strive to be so good! Who sells his vow is stamp’d the slave of blood. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE II.