Part 6

EUG. Art, I must use thee now; Dissembling is the best help for a virtue, That ever women had; it saves their credit oft.[157] HIP. How now, cousin! What, weeping? EUG. Can you blame me, when the time Of my dear love and husband now draws on? I study funeral tears against the day I must be a sad widow. HIP. In troth, Eugenia, I have cause to weep too; But, when I visit, I come comfortably, And look to be so quited:[158]—yet more sobbing? EUG. Oh! The greatest part of your affliction’s past, The worst of mine’s to come; I have one to die; Your husband’s father is dead, and fix’d in his Eternal peace, past the sharp tyrannous blow. HIP. You must use patience, coz. EUG. Tell me of patience! HIP. You have example for’t, in me and many. EUG. Yours was a father-in-law, but mine a husband: O, for a woman that could love, and live With an old man, mine is a jewel, cousin; So quietly he lies by one, so still! HIP. Alas! I have a secret lodg’d within me, Which now will out in pity:—I can’t hold. [_Aside._ EUG. One that will not disturb me in my sleep For[159] a whole month together, ’less it be With those diseases age is subject to, As aches,[160] coughs, and pains, and these, heaven knows, Against his will too:—he’s the quietest man, Especially in bed. HIP. Be comforted. EUG. How can I, lady? None know[161] the terror of an husband’s loss, But they that fear to lose him. HIP. Fain would I keep it in, but ’twill not be; She is my kinswoman, and I’m pitiful. I must impart a good, if I know’t once, To them that stand in need on’t; I’m like one Loves not to banquet with a joy alone, My friends must partake too. [_Aside._]—Prithee, cease, cousin; If your love be so boundless, which is rare, In a young woman, in these days, I tell you, To one so much past service as your husband, There is a way to beguile law, and help you; My husband found it out first. EUG. O sweet cousin! HIP. You may conceal him, and give out hisdeath Within the time; order his funeral too; We had it so for ours, I praise heaven for’t, And he’s alive and safe. EUG. O blessed coz, How thou revivest me! HIP. We daily see The good old man, and feed him twice a day. Methinks, it is the sweetest joy to cherish him, That ever life yet shew’d me. EUG. So should I think, A dainty thing to nurse an old man well! HIP. And then we have his prayers and daily blessing; And we two live so lovingly upon’t, His son and I, and so contentedly, You cannot think unless you tasted on’t. EUG. No, I warrant you. O loving cousin, What a great sorrow hast thou eas’d me of! A thousand thanks go with thee! HIP. I have a suit to you, I must not have you weep when I am gone. [_Exit._ EUG. No, if I do, ne’er trust me. Easy fool, Thou hast put thyself into my power for ever; Take heed of angering of me. I conceal! I feign a funeral! I keep my husband! ’Las! I’ve[162] been thinking any time these two years, I have kept him too long already.— I’ll go count o’er my suitors, that’s my business, And prick the man down; I ha’ six months to do’t, But could despatch’t[163] in one, were I put to’t. [_Exit._

## ACT III. SCENE I.

_Before the Church._

_Enter_ GNOTHO _and_ CLERK.

GNOTH. You have searched o’er the parish-chronicle, sir? CLERK. Yes, sir; I have found out the true age and date of the party you wot on. GNOTH. Pray you, be covered, sir. CLERK. When you have shewed me the way, sir. GNOTH. O sir, remember yourself, you are a clerk. CLERK. A small clerk, sir. GNOTH. Likely to be the wiser man, sir; for your greatest clerks are not always so, as ’tis reported. CLERK. You are a great man in the parish, sir. GNOTH. I understand myself so much the better, sir; for all the best in the parish pay duties to the clerk, and I would owe you none, sir. CLERK. Since you’ll have it so, I’ll be the first to hide my head. GNOTH. Mine is a capcase: now to our business in[164] hand. Good luck, I hope; I long to be resolved. CLERK. Look you, sir, this is that cannot deceive you: This is the dial that goes ever true; You may say _ipse dixit_ upon this witness, And it is[165] good in law too. GNOTH. Pray you, let’s hear what it speaks. CLERK. Mark, sir.—_Agatha, the daughter of Pollux_, (this is your wife’s name, and the name of her father,) _born_—— GNOTH. Whose daughter, say you? CLERK. The daughter of Pollux. GNOTH. I take it his name was Bollux. CLERK. Pollux the orthography I assure you, sir; the word is corrupted else. GNOTH. Well, on, sir,—of Pollux; now come on, Castor. CLERK. _Born in an._ 1540, and now ’tis 99. By this infallible record, sir, (let me see,) she is now just fifty-nine, and wants but one. GNOTH. I am sorry she wants so much. CLERK. Why, sir? alas, ’tis nothing; ’tis but so many months, so many weeks, so many—— GNOTH. Do not deduct it to days,[166] ’twill be the more tedious; and to measure it by hourglasses were intolerable. CLERK. Do not think on it, sir; half the time goes away in sleep, ’tis half the year in nights. GNOTH. O, you mistake me, neighbour, I am loath to leave the good old woman; if she were gone now it would not grieve me; for what is a year, alas, but a lingering torment? and were it not better she were out of her pain? ’T must needs be a grief to us both. CLERK. I would I knew how to ease you, neighbour! GNOTH. You speak kindly, truly, and if you say but Amen to it, (which is a word that I know you are perfect in,) it might be done. Clerks are the most indifferent honest men,—for to the marriage of your enemy, or the burial of your friend, the curses or the blessings to you are all one; you say Amen to all. CLERK. With a better will to the one than the other, neighbour: but I shall be glad to say Amen to any thing might do you a pleasure. GNOTH. There is, first, something above your duty: [_Gives him money_] now I would have you set forward the clock a little, to help the old woman out of her pain. CLERK. I will speak to the sexton;[167] but the day will go ne’er the faster for that. GNOTH. O, neighbour, you do not conceit me; not the jack of the clock-house; the hand of the dial, I mean.—Come, I know you, being a great clerk, cannot choose but have the art to cast a figure. CLERK. Never, indeed, neighbour; I never had the judgment to cast a figure. GNOTH. I’ll shew you on the back side of your book, look you,—what figure’s this? CLERK. Four with a cipher, that’s forty. GNOTH. So! forty; what’s this now? CLERK. The cipher is turned into 9 by adding the tail, which makes forty-nine. GNOTH. Very well understood; what is’t now? CLERK. The 4 is turned into 3; ’tis now thirty-nine. GNOTH. Very well understood; and can you do this again? CLERK. O, easily, sir. GNOTH. A wager of that! let me see the place of my wife’s age again. CLERK. Look you, sir, ’tis here, 1540. GNOTH. Forty drachmas, you do not turn that forty into thirty-nine. CLERK. A match with you. GNOTH. Done! and you shall keep stakes yourself: there they are. CLERK. A firm match—but stay, sir, now I consider it, I shall add a year to your wife’s age; let me see—_Scirophorion_ the 17,—and now ’tis _Hecatombaion_ the 11.[168] If I alter this, your wife will have but a month to live by the law. GNOTH. That’s all one, sir; either do it, or pay me my wager. CLERK. Will you lose your wife before you lose your wager? GNOTH. A man may get two wives before half so much money by ’em; will you do’t? CLERK. I hope you will conceal me, for ’tis flat corruption. GNOTH. Nay, sir, I would have you keep counsel; for I lose my money by’t, and should be laughed at for my labour, if it should be known. CLERK. Well, sir, there!—’tis done; as perfect [a] 39 as can be found in black and white: but mum, sir,—there’s danger in this figure-casting. GNOTH. Ay, sir, I know that: better men than you have been thrown over the bar for as little; the best is, you can be but thrown out of the belfry.

_Enter the_ COOK, TAILOR, BAILIFF, _and_ BUTLER.

CLERK. Lock close, here comes company; asses have ears as well as pitchers. COOK. O Gnotho,[169] how is’t? here’s a trick[170] of discarded cards of us! we were ranked with coats, as long as our old master lived. GNOTH. And is this then the end of serving-men? COOK. Yes, ’faith, this is the end of serving-men: a wise man were better serve one God than all the men in the world. GNOTH. ’Twas well spoke[171] of a cook. And are all fallen into fasting-days and Ember-weeks, that cooks are out of use? TAIL. And all tailors will be cut into lists and shreds; if this world hold, we shall grow both out of request. BUT. And why not butlers as well as tailors? if they can go naked, let ’em neither eat nor drink. CLERK. That’s strange, methinks, a lord should turn away his tailor, of all men:—and how dost thou, tailor? TAIL. I do so, so; but, indeed, all our wants are long of this publican, my lord’s bailiff; for had he been rent-gatherer still, our places had held together still, that are now seam-rent, nay cracked in the whole piece. BAIL. Sir, if my lord had not sold his lands that claim his rents, I should still have been the rent-gatherer. COOK. The truth is, except the coachman and the footman, all serving-men are out of request. GNOTH. Nay, say not so, for you were never in more request than now, for requesting is but a kind of a begging; for when you say, I beseech your worship’s charity, ’tis all one [as] if you say, I request it; and in that kind of requesting, I am sure serving-men were never in more request. COOK. Troth, he says true: well, let that pass, we are upon a better adventure. I see, Gnotho,[172] you have been before us; we came to deal with this merchant for some commodities. CLERK. With me, sir? any thing that I can. BUT. Nay, we have looked out our wives already: marry, to you we come to know the prices, that is, to know their ages; for so much reverence we bear to age, that the more aged, they shall be the more dear to us. TAIL. The truth is, every man has laid by his widow; so they be lame enough, blind enough, and old [enough], ’tis good enough. CLERK. I keep the town-stock; if you can but name ’em, I can tell their ages to [a] day. ALL. We can tell their fortunes to an hour, then. CLERK. Only you must pay for turning of the leaves. COOK. O, bountifully.—Come, mine first. BUT. The butler before the cook, while you live; there’s few that eat before they drink in a morning. TAIL. Nay, then the tailor puts in his needle of priority, for men do clothe themselves before they either drink or eat. BAIL. I will strive for no place; the longer ere I marry my wife, the older she will be, and nearer her end and my ends. CLERK. I will serve you all, gentlemen, if you will have patience. GNOTH. I commend your modesty, sir; you are a bailiff, whose place is to come behind other men, as it were in the bum of all the rest. BAIL. So, sir! and you were about this business too, seeking out for a widow? GNOTH. Alack! no, sir; I am a married man, and have those cares upon me that you would fain run into. BAIL. What, an old rich wife! any man in this age desires such a care. GNOTH. ’Troth, sir, I’ll put a venture with you, if you will; I have a lusty old quean to my wife, sound of wind and limb, yet I’ll give out to take three for one at the marriage of my second wife. BAIL. Ay, sir, but how near is she to the law? GNOTH. Take that at hazard, sir; there must be time, you know, to get a new. Unsight, unseen, I take three to one. BAIL. Two to one I’ll give, if she have but two teeth in her head. GNOTH. A match; there’s five drachmas for ten at my next wife. BAIL. A match. COOK. I shall be fitted bravely; fifty-eight, and upwards; ’tis but a year and a half, and I may chance make friends, and beg a year of the duke. BUT. Hey, boys! I am made sir butler; my wife that shall be wants but two months of her time; it shall be one ere I marry her, and then the next will be a honeymoon. TAIL. I outstrip you all; I shall have but six weeks of Lent, if I get my widow, and then comes eating-tide, plump and gorgeous. GNOTH. This tailor will be a man, if ever there were any. BAIL. Now comes my turn, I hope, goodman Finis, you that are still at the end of all, with a _so be it_. Well now, sirs? do you venture there as I have done; and I’ll venture here after you. Good luck, I beseech thee! CLERK. Amen, sir. BAIL. That deserves a fee already—there ’tis; please me, and have a better. CLERK. Amen, sir. COOK. How, two for one at your next wife! is the old one living? GNOTH. You have a fair match, I offer you no foul one; if death make not haste to call her, she’ll make none to go to him. BUT. I know her, she’s a lusty woman; I’ll take the venture. GNOTH. There’s five drachmas for ten at my next wife. BUT. A bargain. COOK. Nay, then we’ll be all merchants: give me. TAIL. And me. BUT. What has the bailiff sped? BAIL. I am content; but none of you shall know my happiness. CLERK. As well as any of you all, believe it, sir. BAIL. O, clerk, you are to speak last always. CLERK. I’ll remember’t hereafter, sir. You have done with me, gentlemen?

_Enter_ AGATHA.

ALL. For this time, honest register. CLERK. Fare you well then; if you do,[173] I’ll cry Amen to’t. [_Exit._ COOK. Look you, sir, is not this your wife? GNOTH. My first wife, sir. BUT. Nay, then we have made a good match on’t; if she have no froward disease, the woman may live this dozen years by her age. TAIL. I’m afraid she’s broken-winded, she holds silence so long. COOK. We’ll now leave our venture to the event; I must a wooing. BUT. I’ll but buy me a new dagger, and overtake you. BAIL. So we must all; for he that goes a wooing to a widow without a weapon, will never get her. [_Exeunt all but_ GNOTHO _and_ AGATHA. GNOTH. O wife, wife! AGA. What ail you, man, you speak so passionately?[174] GNOTH. ’Tis for thy sake, sweet wife: who would think so lusty an old woman, with reasonable good teeth, and her tongue in as perfect use as ever it was, should be so near her time?—but the Fates will have it so. AGA. What’s the matter, man? you do amaze me. GNOTH. Thou art not sick neither, I warrant thee. AGA. Not that I know of, sure. GNOTH. What pity ’tis a woman should be so near her end, and yet not sick! AGA. Near her end, man! tush, I can guess at that; I have years good yet of life in the remainder: I want two yet at least of the full number; Then the law, I know, craves impotent and useless, And not the able women. GNOTH. Ay, alas! I see thou hast been repairing time as well as thou couldst; the old wrinkles are well filled up, but the vermilion is seen too thick, too thick—and I read what’s written in thy forehead; it agrees with the church-book. AGA. Have you sought my age, man? and, I prithee, how is it? GNOTH. I shall but discomfort thee. AGA. Not at all, man; when there’s no remedy, I will go, though unwillingly. GNOTH. 1539. Just; it agrees with the book: you have about a year to prepare yourself. AGA. Out, alas! I hope there’s more than so. But do you not think a reprieve might be gotten for half a score—and[175] ’twere but five year[s], I would not care? an able woman, methinks, were to be pitied. GNOTH. Ay, to be pitied, but not helped; no hope of that: for, indeed, women have so blemished their own reputations now-a-days, that it is thought the law will meet them at fifty very shortly. AGA. Marry, the heavens forbid! GNOTH. There’s so many of you, that, when you are old, become witches; some profess physic, and kill good subjects faster than a burning fever; and then school- mistresses of the sweet sin, which commonly we call bawds, innumerable of that sort: for these and such causes ’tis thought they shall not live above fifty. AGA. Ay, man, but this hurts not the good old women. GNOTH. I’faith, you are so like one another, that a man cannot distinguish ’em: now, were I an old woman, I would desire to go before my time, and offer myself willingly, two or three years before. O, those are brave women, and worthy to be commended of all men in the world, that, when their husbands die, they run to be burnt to death with ’em: there’s honour and credit! give me half a dozen such wives. AGA. Ay, if her husband were dead before, ’twere a reasonable request; if you were dead, I could be content to be so. GNOTH. Fie! that’s not likely, for thou hadst two husbands before me. AGA. Thou wouldst not have me die, wouldst thou, husband? GNOTH. No, I do not speak to that purpose; but I say what credit it were for me and thee, if thou wouldst; then thou shouldst never be suspected for a witch, a physician, a bawd, or any of those things: and then how daintily should I mourn for thee, how bravely should I see thee buried! when, alas, if he goes before, it cannot choose but be a great grief to him to think he has not seen his wife well buried. There be such virtuous women in the world, but too few, too few, who desire to die seven years before their time, with all their hearts. AGA. I have not the heart to be of that mind; but, indeed, husband, I think you would have me gone. GNOTH. No, alas! I speak but for your good and your credit; for when a woman may die quickly, why should she go to law for her death? Alack, I need not wish thee gone, for thou hast but a short time to stay with me: you do not know how near ’tis,—it must out; you have but a month to live by the law. AGA. Out, alas! GNOTH. Nay, scarce so much. AGA. O, O, O, my heart! [_Swoons._ GNOTH. Ay, so! if thou wouldst go away quietly, ’twere sweetly done, and like a kind wife; lie but a little longer, and the bell shall toll for thee. AGA. O my heart, but a month to live! GNOTH. Alas, why wouldst thou come back again for a month?—I’ll throw her down again—O, woman, ’tis not three weeks; I think a fortnight is the most. AGA. Nay, then I am gone already. [_Swoons._ GNOTH. I would make haste to the sexton now, but I’m afraid the tolling of the bell will wake her again. If she be so wise as to go now—she stirs again; there’s two lives of the nine gone. AGA. O, wouldst thou not help to recover me, husband? GNOTH. Alas, I could not find in my heart to hold thee by thy nose, or box thy cheeks; it goes against my conscience. AGA. I will not be thus frighted to my death; I’ll search the church-record[s]: a fortnight! ’tis Too little of conscience, I cannot be so near; O time, if thou be’st kind, lend me but a year! [_Exit._ GNOTH. What a spite’s this, that a man cannot persuade his wife to die in any time with her good will! I have another bespoke already; though a piece of old beef will serve to breakfast, yet a man would be glad of a chicken to supper. The clerk, I hope, understands no Hebrew, and cannot write backward what he hath writ forward already, and then I am well enough. ’Tis but a month at most; if that were gone, My venture comes in with her two for one: ’Tis use enough a’ conscience for a broker[176]—if he had a conscience. [_Exit._

## SCENE II.

_A Room in_ CREON’s _House_.

_Enter_ EUGENIA _at one door_, SIMONIDES _and_ COURTIERS _at the other_.