Part 26

TAN. Now, now, now, now, now, upon my knees I praise Mercury, the god of law! I have two suits at issue, two suits at issue. FIRST SUIT. Do you hear, sir? TAN. I will not hear; I’ve other business. FIRST SUIT. I beseech you, my learned counsel—— TAN. Beseech not me, beseech not me; I am a mortal man, a client as you are; beseech not me. FIRST SUIT. I would do all by your worship’s direction. TAN. Then hang thyself. SECOND SUIT. Shall I take out a special _supplicavit_? TAN. Mad me not, torment me not, tear me not; you’ll give me leave to hear mine own cause, mine own cause. FIRST VOICE. [_within_] Nay, moreover and farther—— TAN. Well said, my lawyer, well said, well said! FIRST VOICE. [_within_] All the opprobrious speeches that man could invent, all malicious invectives, called wittol[893] to his face. TAN. That’s I, that’s I: thank you, my learned counsel, for your good remembrance. I hope I shall overthrow him horse and foot.[894] FIRST SUIT. Nay but, good sir—— TAN. No more, sir: he that brings me happy news first I’ll relieve first. BOTH SUIT. Sound executions rot thy cause and thee! [_Exeunt._ TAN. Ay, ay, ay, pray so still, pray so still; they’ll thrive the better. PHŒ. I wonder how this fellow keeps out madness; What stuff his brains are made on. TAN. I suffer, I suffer, till I hear a judgment! PHŒ. What, old signior? TAN. Prithee, I will not know thee now; ’tis a busy time, a busy time with me. PHŒ. What, not me, signior? TAN. O, cry thee mercy! give me thy hand—fare thee well.—Has no relief again[895] me then; his demurs will not help him; his sursurraras[896] will but play the knaves with him.

_Enter_ FALSO.

PHŒ. The justice? ’tis he. FAL. Have I found thee, i’faith? I thought where I should smell thee out, old Tangle. TAN. What, old signior justicer? embrace me another time and[897] you can possible:—how do[898] all thy wife’s children,—well? that’s well said, i’faith. FAL. Hear me, old Tangle. TAN. Prithee, do not ravish me; let me go. FAL. I must use some of thy counsel first. TAN. Sirrah, I ha’ brought him to an exigent: hark! that’s my cause, that’s my cause yonder: I twinged him, I twinged him. FAL. My niece is stolen away. TAN. Ah, get me a _ne exeat regno_ quickly! nay, you must not stay upon’t; I’d fain have you gone. FAL. A _ne exeat regno_? I’ll about it presently: adieu. [_Exit._ PHŒ. You seek to catch her, justice; she’ll catch you.

_Re-enter_ FIRST SUITOR.

FIRST SUIT. A judgment, a judgment! TAN. What, what, what? FIRST SUIT. Overthrown, overthrown, overthrown! TAN. Ha?—ah, ah!——

_Re-enter_ SECOND SUITOR.

SECOND SUIT. News, news, news! TAN. The devil, the devil, the devil! SECOND SUIT. Twice Tangle’s overthrown, twice Tangle’s overthrown! TAN. Hold! PHŒ. Now, old cheater of the law—— TAN. Pray, give me leave to be mad. PHŒ. Thou that hast found such sweet pleasure[899] in the vexation of others—— TAN. May I not be mad in quiet? PHŒ. Very marrow, very manna to thee to be in law—— TAN. Very syrup of toads and preserved adders! PHŒ. Thou that hast vexed and beggared the whole parish, and made the honest churchwardens go to law with the poor’s money—— TAN. Hear me, do but hear me! I pronounce a terrible, horrible curse upon you all, and wish you to my attorney. See where a _præmunire_ comes, a _dedimus potestatem_, and that most dreadful execution, _excommunicato capiendo_! There’s no bail to be taken; I shall rot in fifteen jails: make dice of my bones, and let my counsellor’s son play away his father’s money with ’em; may my bones revenge my quarrel! A _capias cominus_? here, here, here, here; quickly dip your quills in my blood, off with my skin, and write fourteen lines of a side. There’s an honest conscionable fellow; he takes but ten shillings of a bellows-mender: here’s another deals all with charity; you shall give him nothing, only his wife an embroidered petticoat, a gold fringe for her tail, or a border for her head. Ah, sirrah, you shall catch me no more in the springe of your knaveries! [_Exit._ FIRST SUIT. Follow, follow him still; a little thing now sets him forward. [_Exeunt_ SUITORS. PHŒ. None can except against him; the man’s mad, And privileg’d by the moon, if he say true: Less madness ’tis to speak sin than to do. This wretch, that lov’d before his food his strife, This punishment falls even with his life. His pleasure was vexation, all his bliss The torment of another; Their hurt[900] his health, their starved hopes his store: Who so loves law dies either mad or poor.

_Enter_ FIDELIO.

FID. A miracle, a miracle! PHŒ. How now, Fidelio? FID. My lord, a miracle! PHŒ. What is’t? FID. I have found One quiet, suffering, and unlawyer’d man; An opposite, a very contrary To the old turbulent fellow. PHŒ. Why, he’s mad. FID. Mad? why, he is in his right wits: could he be madder than he was? if he be any way altered from what he was, ’tis for the better, my lord. PHŒ. Well, but where’s this wonder? FID. ’Tis coming,[901] my lord: a man so truly a man, so indifferently a creature, using the world in his right nature but to tread upon; one that would not bruise the cowardliest enemy to man, the worm, that dares not shew his malice till we are dead: nay, my lord, you will admire his temper: see where he comes.

_Enter_ QUIETO.

I promis’d your acquaintance, sir: yon is The gentleman I did commend for temper. QUI. Let me embrace you simply, That’s perfectly, and more in heart than hand: Let affectation keep at court. PHŒ. Ay, let it. QUI. ’Tis told me you love quiet. PHŒ. Above wealth. QUI. I above life: I have been wild and rash, Committed many and unnatural crimes, Which I have since repented. PHŒ. ’Twas well spent. QUI. I was mad, stark mad, nine years together. PHŒ. I pray, as how? QUI. Going to law, i’faith, it made me mad. PHŒ. With the like frenzy, not an hour since, An aged man was struck. QUI. Alas, I pity him! PHŒ. He’s not worth pitying, for ’twas still his gladness To be at variance. QUI. Yet a man’s worth pity: My quiet blood has blest me with this gift: I have cur’d some; and if his wits be not Too deeply cut, I will assay to help ’em. PHŒ. Sufferance does teach you pity.

_Enter_ BOY.

BOY. O master, master! your abominable next neighbour came into the house, being half in drink, and took away your best carpet.[902] QUI. Has he it? BOY. Alas, sir! QUI. Let him go; trouble him not: lock the door quietly after him, and have a safer care who comes in next. PHŒ. But, sir, might I advise you, in such a cause as this a man might boldly, nay, with conscience, go to law. QUI. O, I’ll give him the table too first! Better endure a fist than a sharp sword: I had rather they should pull off my clothes than flay off my skin, and hang that on mine enemy’s hedge. PHŒ. Why, For such good causes was the law ordain’d. QUI. True, And in itself ’tis glorious and divine; Law is the very masterpiece of heaven: But see yonder, There’s many clouds between the sun and us; There’s too much cloth before we see the law. PHŒ. I’m content with that answer; be mild still: ’Tis honour to forgive those you could kill. QUI. There do I keep. PHŒ. Reach me your hand: I love you, And you shall know me better. QUI. ’Tis my suit. PHŒ. The night grows deep, and——

_Enter two Officers._

FIRST OFF. Come away, this way, this way. PHŒ. Who be those? stand close a little.

[_As they retire_, PHŒNIX _happens to jar the ring of the Jeweller’s door; the Maid enters from the house and catches hold of him_.

MAID. O, you’re come as well as e’er you came in your life! my master’s new gone to bed. Give me your knightly hand: I must lead you into the blind parlour; my mistress will be down to you presently. [_Takes in_ PHŒNIX. FIRST OFF. I tell you our safest course will be to arrest him when he comes out a’ th’ tavern, for then he will be half drunk, and will not stand upon his weapon. SECOND OFF. Our safest course indeed, for he will draw. FIRST OFF. That he will, though he put it up again, which is more of his courtesy than of our deserving. [_Exeunt Officers._ QUI. The world is nothing but vexation, Spite, and uncharitable action. FID. Did you see the gentleman? QUI. Not I. FID. Where should he be? it may be he’s past by: Good sir, let’s overtake him. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE II.

_A Room in the Jeweller’s House._

_Enter_ PHŒNIX _and Maid_.

MAID. Here, sir: now you are there, sir, she’ll come down to you instantly. I must not stay with you; my mistress would be jealous: you must do nothing to me; my mistress would find it quickly. [_Exit._ PHŒ. ’S foot, whither am I led? brought in by th’ hand? I hope it can be no harm to stay for a woman, though indeed they were never more dangerous: I have ventured hitherto and safe, and I must venture to stay now. This should be a fair room, but I see it not: the blind parlour calls she it?

_Enter_ JEWELLER’S WIFE.

JEW. WIFE. Where art thou, O my knight? PHŒ. Your knight? I am the duke’s knight. JEW. WIFE. I say you’re my knight, for I’m sure I paid for you. PHŒ. Paid for you?—hum.—’S foot, a light! [_Snatches in a light, and then extinguishes it._ JEW. WIFE. Now out upon the marmoset![903] Hast thou served me so long, and offer to bring in a candle? PHŒ. Fair room, villanous face, and worse woman! I ha’ learnt something by a glimpse a’ th’ candle. [_Aside._ JEW. WIFE. How happened it you came so soon? I looked not for you these two hours; yet, as the sweet chance is, you came as well as a thing could come, for my husband’s newly brought a-bed. PHŒ. And what has Jove sent him? JEW. WIFE. He ne’er sent him any thing since I knew him: he’s a man of a bad nature to his wife; none but his maids can thrive under him. PHŒ. Out upon him! JEW. WIFE. Ay, judge whether I have a cause to be a courtesan or no? to do as I do? An elderly fellow as he is, if he were married to a young virgin, he were able to break her heart, though he could break nothing else. Here, here; there’s just a hundred and fifty [_giving money_]; but I stole ’em so hardly from him, ’twould e’en have grieved you to have seen it. PHŒ. So ’twould, i’faith. JEW. WIFE. Therefore, prithee, my sweet Pleasure, do not keep company so much. How do you think I am able to maintain you? Though I be a jeweller’s wife, jewels are like women, they rise and fall; we must be content to lose sometimes, to gain often; but you’re content always to lose, and never to gain. What need you ride with a footman before you? PHŒ. O, that’s the grace! JEW. WIFE. The grace? ’tis sufficient grace that you’ve a horse to ride upon. You should think thus with yourself every time you go to bed,—if my head were laid, what would become of that horse? he would run a bad race then, as well as his master. PHŒ. Nay, and[904] you give me money to chide me—— JEW. WIFE. No, if it were as much more, I would think it foul scorn to chide you. I advise you to be thrifty, to take the time now, while you have it: you shall seldom get such another fool as I am, I warrant you. Why, there’s Metreza[905] Auriola keeps her love with half the cost that I am at: her friend can go a’ foot like a good husband, walk in worsted stockings, and inquire for the sixpenny ordinary.[906] PHŒ. Pox on’t, and would you have me so base? JEW. WIFE. No, I would not have you so base neither: but now and then, when you keep your chamber, you might let your footman out for eighteenpence a-day; a great relief at year’s end, I can tell you. PHŒ. The age must needs be foul when vice reforms it. [_Aside._ JEW. WIFE. Nay, I’ve a greater quarrel to you yet. PHŒ. I’faith, what is’t? JEW. WIFE. You made me believe at first the prince had you in great estimation, and would not offer to travel without you, nay, that he could not travel without your direction and intelligence. PHŒ. I’m sorry I said so, i’faith; but sure I was overflown[907] when I spoke it, I could ne’er ha’ said it else. JEW. WIFE. Nay more; you swore to me that you were the first that taught him to ride a great horse, and tread[908] the ring with agility. PHŒ. By my troth, I must needs confess I swore a great lie in that, and I was a villain to do it, for I could ne’er ride great horse in my life. JEW. WIFE. Why, lo, who would love you now but a citizen’s wife? so inconstant, so forsworn! You say women are false creatures; but, take away men, and they’d be honester than you. Nay, last of all, which offends me most of all, you told me you could countenance me at court; and you know we esteem a friend there more worth than a husband here. PHŒ. What I spake of that, lady, I’ll maintain. JEW. WIFE. You maintain? you seen at court? PHŒ. Why, by this diamond—— JEW. WIFE. O, take heed! you cannot have that; ’tis always in the eye of my husband. PHŒ. I protest I will not keep it, but only use it for this virtue, as a token to fetch you, and approve[909] my power, where you shall not only be received, but made known to the best and chiefest. JEW. WIFE. O, are you true? PHŒ. Let me lose my revenue[910] else. JEW. WIFE. That’s your word, indeed! and upon that condition take it, this kiss, and my love for ever. [_Giving the diamond._ PHŒ. Enough. JEW. WIFE. Give me thy hand, I’ll lead thee forth. PHŒ. I’m sick of all professions; my thoughts burn: He travels best that knows when to return. [_Aside._ [_Exeunt._

## SCENE III.

_A Street: before the Jeweller’s House._

_Enter_ KNIGHT, _two Officers watching for him_.

KNIGHT. Adieu, farewell;[911] to bed you; I to my sweet city-bird, my precious Revenue: the very thought of a hundred and fifty angels[912] increases oil and spirit, ho! FIRST OFF. I arrest you. sir. KNIGHT. O! FIRST OFF. You have made us wait a goodly time for you, have you not, think you? You are in your rouses[913] and mullwines,[914] a pox on you! and have no care of poor officers staying for you.

KNIGHT. I drunk but one health, I protest; but I could void it now. At whose suit, I pray? FIRST OFF. At the suit of him that makes suits, your tailor. KNIGHT. Why, he made me the last; this, this that I wear. FIRST OFF. Argo,[915]—nay, we have been scholars, I can tell you,—we could not have been knaves so soon else; for as in that notable city called London stand two most famous universities, Poultry and Wood-street,[916] where some are of twenty years’ standing, and have took all their degrees, from the Master’s side down to the Mistress’ side, the Hole,[917] so in like manner—— KNIGHT. Come, come, come, I had quite forgot the hundred and fifty angels. SECOND OFF. ’Slid, where be they? KNIGHT. I’ll bring you to the sight of’em presently. FIRST OFF. A notable lad, and worthy to be arrested! We’ll have but ten for waiting; and then thou shalt choose whether thou wilt run away from us, or we from thee. KNIGHT. A match at running! come, come, follow me. SECOND OFF. Nay, fear not that. KNIGHT. Peace; you may happen to see toys,[918] but do not see ’em. FIRST OFF. Pah! KNIGHT. That’s the door. FIRST OFF. This? [_Knocks._ KNIGHT. ’S foot, officer, you have spoiled all already. FIRST OFF. Why? KNIGHT. Why? you shall see: you should have but whirled the ring once about, and there’s a maidservant brought up to understand it. MAID. [_opening the door_] Who’s at door? KNIGHT. All’s well again.—Phist, ’tis I, ’tis I. MAID. You? what are you? KNIGHT. Pooh! where’s thy mistress? MAID. What of her? KNIGHT. Tell her one—she knows who—her Pleasure’s here, say. MAID. Her pleasure? my mistress scorns to be without her pleasure at this time of night. Is she so void of friends, think you? take that for thinking so. _Gives him a box on the ear, and shuts the door._ FIRST OFF. The hundred and fifty angels are locked up in a box; we shall not see ’em tonight. KNIGHT. How’s this? am I used like a hundred-pound gentleman? does my Revenue forsake me? Damn me, if ever I be her Pleasure again!—Well, I must to prison. FIRST OFF. Go prepare his room; there’s no remedy: I’ll bring him along; he’s tame enough now. [_Exit Second Officer._

KNIGHT. Dare my tailor presume to use me in this sort? He steals, and I must lie in prison for’t. FIRST OFF. Come, come, away, sir!

_Enter a Gentleman and a Drawer._

GENT. Art sure thou sawest him arrested, drawer? DRA. If mine eyes be sober. GENT. And that’s a question. Mass, here he goes! he shall not go to prison; I have a trick shall bail him: away! [_Exit Drawer._ [_Blinds the First Officer, while the_ KNIGHT _escapes_. FIRST OFF. O! GENT. Guess, guess! who am I? who am I? FIRST OFF. Who the devil are you? let go: a pox on you! who are you? I have lost my prisoner. GENT. Prisoner? I’ve mistook; I cry you heartily mercy; I have done you infinite injury; a’ my troth, I took you to be an honest man. FIRST OFF. Where were your eyes? could you not see I was an officer?—Stop, stop, stop, stop! GENT. Ha, ha, ha, ha! [_Exeunt severally._

## ACT V. SCENE I.

_The Presence-Chamber in the Duke of Ferrara’s Palace._

_Enter_ PRODITOR _and_ PHŒNIX.

PROD. Now, Phœnix.[919] PHŒ. Now, my lord. PROD. Let princely blood Nourish our hopes; we bring confusion now. PHŒ. A terrible sudden blow. PROD. Ay: what day Is this hangs over us? PHŒ. By th’ mass, Monday. PROD. As I could wish; my purpose will thrive best: ’Twas first my birth-day, now my fortune’s day. I see whom fate will raise needs never pray. PHŒ. Never. PROD. How is the air? PHŒ. O, full of trouble! PROD. Does not the sky look piteously black? PHŒ. As if ’twere hung with rich men’s consciences. PROD. Ah, stuck not a comet, like a carbuncle, Upon the dreadful brow of twelve last night? PHŒ. Twelve? no, ’twas about one. PROD. About one? most proper, For that’s the duke. PHŒ. Well shifted from thyself! [_Aside._ PROD. I could have wish’d it between one and two, His son and him. PHŒ. I’ll give you comfort then. PROD. Prithee. PHŒ. There was a villanous raven seen last night Over the presence-chamber, in hard justle With a young eaglet. PROD. A raven? that was I: what did the raven? PHŒ. Marry, my lord, the raven—to say truth, I left the combat doubtful. PROD. So ’tis still, For all is doubt till the deed crown the will. Now bless thy loins with freedom, wealth, and honour; Think all thy seed young lords, and by this act Make a foot-cloth’d[920] posterity; now imagine Thou see’st thy daughters with their trains borne up, Whom else despisèd want may curse to whoredom, And public shames which our state never threat: She’s never lewd that is accounted great. PHŒ. I’ll alter that court axiom, thus renew’d, She’s never great that is accounted lewd. [_Aside._

_Enter several Nobles._

PROD. Stand close; the presence fills. Here, here the place; And at his rising, let his fall be base, Beneath thy foot. PHŒ. How for his guard, my lord? PROD. My gold and fear keep[921] with the chief of them. PHŒ. That’s rarely well. PROD. Bold, heedless slave, that dares attempt a deed Which shall in pieces rend him! [_Aside._

_Enter_ LUSSURIOSO _and_ INFESTO.

My lords both! LUS. The happiness of the day! PHŒ. Time my returning; Treasons have still the worst, yet still are spurning. [_Aside._

_Enter the_ DUKE _attended_.

PROD. The duke! PHŒ. I ne’er was gladder to behold him. ALL. Long live your grace! DUKE. I do not like that strain: You know my age affords not to live long. PROD. Spoke truer than you think for. [_Aside._ DUKE. Bestow that wish upon the prince our son. PHŒ. Nay, he’s not to live long neither. [_Aside._ PROD. Him as the wealthy treasure of our hopes, You as possession of our present comfort, Both in one heart we reverence in one. PHŒ. O treason of a good complexion! [_Aside._ [_Horn winded within._ DUKE. How now? what fresher news fills the court’s ear?

_Enter_ FIDELIO.