Part 7

EUG. Gentlemen courtiers. FIRST COURT. All your vow’d servants,[177] lady. EUG. O, I shall kill myself with infinite laughter! Will nobody take my part? SIM. An’t be a laughing business, Put it to me, I’m one of the best in Europe; My father died last too, I have the most cause. EUG. You ha’ pick’d out such a time, sweet gentlemen, To make your spleen a banquet. SIM. O the jest! Lady, I have a jaw stands ready for’t, I’ll gape half way, and meet it. EUG. My old husband, That cannot say his prayers out for jealousy, And madness at your coming first to woo me—— SIM. Well said. FIRST COURT. Go on. SECOND COURT. On, on. EUG. Takes counsel with The secrets of all art, to make himself Youthful again. SIM. How? youthful! ha, ha, ha! EUG. A man of forty-five he would fain seem to be, Or scarce so much, if he might have his will, indeed. SIM. Ay, but his white hairs, they’ll betray his hoariness. EUG. Why, there you are wide: he’s not the man you take him for, Nor[178] will you know him when you see him again; There will be five to one laid upon that. FIRST COURT. How! EUG. Nay, you did well to laugh faintly there; I promise you, I think he’ll outlive me now, And deceive law and all. SIM. Marry, gout forbid! EUG. You little think he was at fencing-school At four a’clock this morning. SIM. How, at fencing-school! EUG. Else give no trust to woman. SIM. By this light, I do not like him, then; he’s like to live Longer than I, for he may kill me first, now. EUG. His dancer now came in as I met you. FIRST COURT. His dancer, too! EUG. They observe turns and hours with him; The great French rider will be here at ten, With his curvetting horse. SECOND COURT. These notwithstanding, His hair and wrinkles will betray his age. EUG. I’m sure his head and beard, as he has order’d it, Look not past fifty now: he’ll bring’t to forty Within these four days, for nine times an hour[179] He takes a black-lead comb, and kembs it over: Three quarters of his beard is under fifty; There’s but a little tuft of fourscore left, All of one side, which will be black by Monday.

_Enter_ LYSANDER.

And, to approve my truth, see where he comes! Laugh softly, gentlemen, and look upon him. [_They go aside._ SIM. Now, by this hand, he’s almost black i’the mouth, indeed. FIRST COURT. He should die shortly, then. SIM. Marry, methinks he dies too fast already, For he was all white but a week ago. FIRST COURT. O, this same coney-white takes an excellent black, Too soon, a mischief on’t! SECOND COURT. He will beguile[180] Us all, if that little tuft northward turn black too. EUG. Nay, sir, I wonder ’tis so long a turning. SIM. May be some fairy’s child, held forth at midnight, Has piss’d upon that side. FIRST COURT. Is this the beard? LYS. Ah, sirrah? my young boys, I shall be for you: This little mangy tuft takes up more time Than all the beard beside. Come you a wooing, And I alive and lusty? you shall find An alteration, jack-boys; I have a spirit yet, (And[181] I could match my hair to’t, there’s the fault,[182]) And can do offices of youth yet lightly; At least, I will do, though it pain me a little. Shall not a man, for a little foolish age, Enjoy his wife to himself? must young court tits Play tomboys’ tricks with her, and he live? ha! I have blood that will not bear’t; yet, I confess, I should be at my prayers—but where’s the dancer, there!

_Enter_ DANCING-MASTER.

MAST. Here, sir. LYS. Come, come, come, one trick a day, And I shall soon recover all again. EUG. ’Slight, and[183] you laugh too loud, we are all discover’d.[184] SIM. And I have a scurvy grinning[185] laugh a’ mine own, Will spoil all, I am afraid. EUG. Marry, take heed, sir. SIM. Nay, and[186] I should be hang’d, I cannot[187] leave it; Pup!—there ’tis. [_Bursts into a laugh._ EUG. Peace! O, peace! LYS. Come, I am ready, sir. I hear the church-book’s lost where I was born too, And that shall set me back one[188] twenty years; There is no little comfort left in that: And—[then] my three court-codlings, that look parboil’d, As if they came from Cupid’s scalding-house—— SIM. He means me specially, I hold my life. MAST. What trick will your old worship learn this morning, sir? LYS. Marry, a trick, if thou couldst teach a man, To keep his wife to himself; I’d fain learn that. MAST. That’s a hard trick, for an old man specially; The horse-trick comes the nearest. LYS. Thou sayst true, i’faith, They must be hors’d indeed, else there’s no keeping on ’em, And horse-play at fourscore is not so ready. MAST. Look you, here’s your worship’s horse- trick,[189] sir. [_Gives a spring._ LYS. Nay, say not so, ’Tis none of mine; I fall down horse and man, If I but offer at it. MAST. My life for yours, sir. LYS. Sayst thou me so? [_Springs aloft._ MAST. Well offer’d, by my viol, sir. LYS. A pox of this horse-trick! ’t has play’d the jade with me, And given me a wrench i’the back. MAST. Now here’s your inturn, and your trick above ground. LYS. Prithee, no more, unless thou hast a mind To lay me under ground; one of these tricks Is enough in a morning. MAST. For your galliard, sir, You are complete enough, ay, and may challenge The proudest coxcomb of ’em all, I’ll stand to’t. LYS. Faith, and I’ve other weapons for the rest too: I have prepar’d for ’em, if e’er I take My Gregories here again. SIM. O, I shall burst, I can hold out no longer. EUG. He spoils all. [_They come forward._ LYS. The devil and his grinners! are you come? Bring forth the weapons, we shall find you play; All feats of youth too, jack-boys, feats of youth, And these the weapons, drinking, fencing, dancing: Your own road-ways, you glyster-pipes! I’m old, you say; Yes, parlous old, kids, and[190] you mark me well! This beard cannot get children, you lank suck-eggs, Unless such weasels come from court to help us. We will get our own brats, you lecherous dog-bolts!

_Enter a_ SERVANT _with foils and glasses_.

Well said, down with ’em; now we shall see your spirits. What! dwindle you already? SECOND COURT. I have no quality. SIM. Nor I, unless drinking may be reckon’d for one. FIRST COURT. Why, Sim, it shall. LYS. Come, dare you choose your weapon now? FIRST COURT. I? dancing, sir, and[191] you will be so hasty. LYS. We’re for you, sir. SECOND COURT. Fencing, I. LYS. We’ll answer you too. SIM. I am for drinking; your wet weapon there. LYS. That wet one has cost many a princox life; And I will send it through you with a powder! SIM. Let [it] come, with a pox! I care not, so’t be drink. I hope my guts will hold, and that’s e’en all A gentleman can look for of such trillibubs.[192] LYS. Play the first weapon; come, strike, strike, I say. Yes, yes, you shall be first; I’ll observe court rules: Always the worst goes foremost, so ’twill prove, I hope. [FIRST COURTIER _dances a galliard_.[193] So, sir! you’ve spit your poison; now come I. Now, forty years go[194] backward and assist me, Fall from me half my age, but for three minutes, That I may feel no crick! I will put fair for’t, Although I hazard twenty sciaticas. [_Dances._ So, I have hit you. FIRST COURT. You’ve done well, i’faith, sir. LYS. If you confess it well, ’tis excellent, And I have hit you soundly; I am warm now: The second weapon instantly. SECOND COURT. What, so quick, sir? Will you not allow yourself a breathing-time? LYS. I’ve breath enough at all times, Lucifer’s musk- cod, To give your perfum’d worship three vennies:[195] A sound old man puts his thrust better home Than a spic’d young man: there I. [_They fence._ SECOND COURT. Then have at you, fourscore. LYS. You lie, twenty, I hope, and you shall find it. SIM. I’m glad I miss’d this weapon, I[’d] had an eye Popt out ere this time, or my two butter-teeth Thrust down my throat instead of a flap-dragon.[196] LYS. There’s two, pentweezle. [_Hits him._ MAST. Excellently touch’d, sir. SECOND COURT. Had ever man such luck! speak your opinion, gentlemen. SIM. Methinks, your luck’s good, that your eyes are in still; Mine would have dropt out, like a pig’s half-roasted. LYS. There wants a third—and there it is[197] again! [_Hits him again._' SECOND COURT. The devil has steel’d him. EUG. What a strong fiend is jealousy! LYS. You’re despatch’d, bear-whelp. SIM. Now comes my weapon in. LYS. Here, toadstool, here. ’Tis you[198] and I must play these three wet vennies.[199] SIM. Vennies in Venice glasses! let ’em come, They’ll bruise no flesh, I’m sure, nor break no bones. SECOND COURT. Yet you may drink your eyes out, sir. SIM. Ay, but that’s nothing; Then they go voluntarily: I do not Love to have ’em thrust out, whether they will or no. LYS. Here’s your first weapon, duck’s-meat. SIM. How! a Dutch what-you-call-’em, Stead of a German faulchion! a shrewd weapon, And, of all things, hard to be taken down: Yet down it must, I have a nose goes into’t; I shall drink double, I think. FIRST COURT. The sooner off, Sim. LYS. I’ll pay you speedily, —— with a trick[200] I learnt once amongst drunkards; here’s [a] half-pike. [_Drinks._ SIM. Half-pike comes well after Dutch what-you-call- ’em, They’d never be asunder by their good will.[201] FIRST COURT. Well pull’d of an old fellow! LYS. O, but your fellows Pull better at a rope. FIRST COURT. There’s a hair, Sim, In that glass. SIM. An’t be as long as a halter, down it goes; No hair shall cross me. [_Drinks._ LYS. I[’ll] make you stink worse than your pole-cats do: Here’s long-sword, your last weapon. [_Offers him the glass._ SIM. No more weapons. FIRST COURT. Why, how now, Sim? bear up, thou sham’st us all, else. SIM. [’S]light, I shall shame you worse, and[202] I stay longer. I ha’ got the scotomy[203] in my head already, The whimsey: you all turn round—do not you dance, gallants? SECOND COURT. Pish! what’s all this? why, Sim, look, the last venny.[204] SIM. No more vennies go[205] down here, for these two Are coming up again. SECOND COURT. Out! the disgrace of drinkers! SIM. Yes, ’twill out; Do you smell nothing yet? FIRST COURT. Smell! SIM. Farewell quickly, then; You[206] will do, if I stay. [_Exit._ FIRST COURT. A foil go with thee! LYS. What, shall we put down youth at her own virtues? Beat folly in her own ground? wondrous much! Why may not we be held as full sufficient To love our own wives then, get our own children, And live in free peace till we be dissolv’d, For such spring butterflies that are gaudy-wing’d, But no more substance than those shamble-flies Which butchers’ boys snap between sleep and waking? Come but to crush you once, you are[207] but maggots, For all your beamy outsides!

_Enter_ CLEANTHES.

EUG. Here’s Cleanthes; He comes to chide;—let him alone a little, Our cause will be reveng’d; look, look, his face Is set for stormy weather; do but mark How the clouds gather in ’t, ’twill pour down straight. CLEAN. Methinks, I partly know you, that’s my grief. Could you not all be lost? that had been handsome; But to be known at all, ’tis more than shameful. Why, was not your name wont to be Lysander? LYS. ’Tis so still, coz. CLEAN. Judgment, defer thy coming! else this man’s miserable. EUG. I told you there would be a shower anon. SECOND COURT. We’ll in, and hide our noddles. [_Exeunt_ EUGENIA _and_ COURTIERS. CLEAN. What devil brought this colour to your mind, Which, since your childhood, I ne’er saw you wear? [Sure] you were ever of an innocent gloss Since I was ripe for knowledge, and would you lose it, And change the livery of saints and angels For this mixt monstrousness; to force a ground That has been so long hallow’d like a temple, To bring forth fruits of earth now; and turn back[208] To the wild cries of lust, and the complexion Of sin in act, lost and long since repented! Would you begin a work ne’er yet attempted, To pull time backward? See what your wife will do! are your wits perfect? LYS. My wits! CLEAN. I like it ten times worse; for’t had been safer Now to be mad,[209] and more excusable: I hear you dance again, and do strange follies. LYS. I must confess I have been put to some, coz. CLEAN. And yet you are not mad! pray, say not so; Give me that comfort of you, that you are mad, That I may think you are at worst; for if You are not mad, I then must guess you have The first of some disease was never heard of, Which may be worse than madness, and more fearful: You’d weep to see yourself else, and your care To pray would quickly turn you white again. I had a father, had he liv’d his month out, But to ha’ seen this most prodigious folly, There needed not the law to have him cut off; The sight of this had prov’d his executioner, And broke his heart: he would have held it equal Done to a sanctuary,—for what is age But the holy place of life, chapel of ease For all men’s wearied miseries? and to rob That of her ornament, it is accurst As from a priest to steal a holy vestment, Ay, and convert it to a sinful covering. [_Exit_ LYSANDER. I see’t has done him good; blessing go with it, Such as may make him pure again.

_Re-enter_ EUGENIA.

EUG. ’Twas bravely touch’d, i’faith, sir. CLEAN. O, you’re welcome. EUG. Exceedingly well handled. CLEAN. ’Tis to you I come; he fell but i’ my way. EUG. You mark’d his beard, cousin? CLEAN. Mark me. EUG. Did you ever see a hair so changed? CLEAN. I must be forc’d to wake her loudly too, The devil has rock’d her so fast asleep.—Strumpet! EUG. Do you call, sir? CLEAN. Whore! EUG. How do you, sir? CLEAN. Be I ne’er so well, I must be sick of thee; thou’rt a disease That stick’st to th’ heart,—as all such women are. EUG. What ails our kindred? CLEAN. Bless me, she sleeps still! What a dead modesty is i’ this woman, Will never blush again! Look on thy work But with a Christian eye, ’twould turn thy heart Into a shower of blood, to be the cause Of that old man’s destruction; think upon’t, Ruin eternally; for, through thy loose follies, Heaven has found him a faint servant lately: His goodness has gone backward, and engender’d With his old sins again; has[210] lost his prayers, And all the tears that were companions with ’em: And like a blindfold man, (giddy and blinded,) Thinking he goes right on still, swerves but one foot, And turns to the same place where he set out; So he, that took his farewell of the world, And cast the joys behind him, out of sight, Summ’d up his hours, made even with time and men, Is now in heart arriv’d at youth again, All by thy wildness: thy too hasty lust Has driven him to this strong apostacy. Immodesty like thine was never equall’d: I’ve heard of women, (shall I call ’em so?) Have welcom’d suitors ere the corpse were cold; But thou, thy husband living:—thou’rt[211] too bold. EUG. Well, have you done now, sir? CLEAN. Look, look! she smiles yet. EUG. All this is nothing to a mind resolv’d; Ask any woman that, she’ll tell you so much: You have only shewn a pretty saucy wit, Which I shall not forget, nor to requite it. You shall hear from me shortly. CLEAN. Shameless woman! I take my counsel from thee, ’tis too honest, And leave thee wholly to thy stronger master: Bless the sex of thee from thee! that’s my prayer. Were all like thee, so impudently common, No man would [e’er] be found to wed a woman. [_Exit._ EUG. I’ll fit you gloriously. He that attempts to take away my pleasure, I’ll take away his joy; and I can sure. His conceal’d father pays for’t: I’ll e’en tell Him that I mean to make my husband next, And he shall tell the duke—mass, here he comes.

_Re-enter_ SIMONIDES.

SIM. Has[212] had a bout with me too. EUG. What! no? since, sir? SIM. A flirt, a little flirt; he call’d me strange names, But I ne’er minded him. EUG. You shall quit him, sir, When he as little minds you. SIM. I like that well. I love to be reveng’d when no one thinks of me; There’s little danger that way. EUG. This is it then; He you shall strike, your stroke shall be profound, And yet your foe not guess who gave the wound. SIM. A’ my troth, I love to give such wounds. [_Exeunt._

## ACT IV. SCENE I.

_Before a Tavern._

_Enter_ GNOTHO, BUTLER, BAILIFF, TAILOR, COOK, DRAWER, _and_ COURTEZAN.

DRAW. Welcome, gentlemen; will you not draw near? will you drink at door, gentlemen? BUT. O, the summer air’s best. DRAW. What wine will[’t] please you drink, gentlemen? BUT. De Clare, sirrah. [_Exit_ DRAWER. GNOTH. What, you’re all sped already, bullies? COOK. My widow’s a’ the spit, and half ready, lad; a turn or two more, and I have done with her. GNOTH. Then, cook, I hope you have basted her before this time. COOK. And stuck her with rosemary too, to sweeten her; she was tainted ere she came to my hands. What an old piece of flesh of fifty-nine, eleven months, and upwards! she must needs be fly-blown. GNOTH. Put her off, put her off, though you lose by her; the weather’s hot. COOK. Why, drawer!

_Re-enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. By and by:—here, gentlemen, here’s the quintessence of Greece; the sages never drunk better grape. COOK. Sir, the mad Greeks of this age can taste their Palermo as well as the sage Greeks did before ’em.—Fill, lick-spiggot. DRAW. _Ad imum_, sir. GNOTH. My friends, I must doubly invite you all, the fifth of the next month, to the funeral of my first wife, and to the marriage of my second, my two to one; this is she. COOK. I hope some of us will be ready for the funeral of our wives by that time, to go with thee: but shall they be both of a day? GNOTH. O, best of all, sir; where sorrow and joy meet together, one will help away with another the better. Besides, there will be charges saved too; the same rosemary that serves for the funeral will serve for the wedding. BUT. How long do you make account to be a widower, sir? GNOTH. Some half an hour; long enough a’ conscience. Come, come, let’s have some agility; is there no music in the house? DRAW. Yes, sir, here are sweet wire-drawers in the house. COOK. O, that makes them and you seldom part; you are wine-drawers, and they wire-drawers. TAIL. And both govern by the pegs too. GNOTH. And you have pipes in your consort[213] too. DRAW. And sackbuts too, sir. BUT. But the heads of your instruments differ; yours are hogs-heads, their[s] cittern and gittern-heads. BAIL. All wooden heads; there they meet again. COOK. Bid ’em strike up, we’ll have a dance, Gnotho;[214] come, thou shalt foot[215] it too. [_Exit_ DRAWER. GNOTH. No dancing with me, we have Siren here. COOK. Siren! ’twas Hiren, the fair Greek,[216] man. GNOTH. Five drachmas of that. I say Siren, the fair Greek, and so are all fair Greeks. COOK. A match; five drachmas her name was Hiren. GNOTH. Siren’s name was Siren, for five drachmas. COOK. ’Tis done. TAIL. Take heed what you do, Gnotho.[217] GNOTH. Do not I know our own countrywomen, Siren and Nell of Greece, two of the fairest Greeks that ever were? COOK. That Nell was Helen of Greece too. GNOTH. As long as she tarried with her husband, she was Ellen; but after she came to Troy, she was Nell of Troy, or Bonny Nell, whether you will or no. TAIL. Why, did she grow shor[t]er when she came to Troy? GNOTH. She grew longer,[218] if you mark the story. When she grew to be an ell, she was deeper than any yard of Troy could reach by a quarter; there was Cressid was Troy weight, and Nell was avoirdupois;[219] she held more, by four ounces, than Cressida. BAIL. They say she caused many wounds to be given in Troy. GNOTH. True, she was wounded there herself, and cured again by plaster of Paris; and ever since that has been used to stop holes with.

_Re-enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. Gentlemen, if you be disposed to be merry, the music is ready to strike up; and here’s a consort[220] of mad Greeks, I know not whether they be men or women, or between both; they have, what-you-call-’em, wizards[221] on their faces. COOK. Vizards, good man lick-spiggot. BUT. If they be wise women, they may be wizards too. DRAW. They desire to enter amongst any merry company of gentlemen good-fellows, for a strain or two.

_Enter old_ WOMEN _and_ AGATHA _in masks_.