Part 10

MAT. God’s-so, my lord, your lordship is most welcome! I’m proud of this, my lor HIP. Was bold to see you. Is that your wife? MAT. Yes, sir. HIP. I’ll borrow her lip. [_Kisses_ BELLAFRONT. MAT. With all my heart, my lord. OR. Who’s this, I pray, sir? MAT. My lord Hippolito. What’s thy name? OR. Pacheco. MAT. Pacheco? fine name: thou seest, Pacheco, I keep company with no scoundrels nor base fellows. HIP. Came not my footman to you? BEL. Yes, my lord. HIP. I sent by him a diamond and a letter; Did you receive them? BEL. Yes, my lord, I did. HIP. Read you the letter? BEL. O'er and o’er ’tis read. HIP. And, faith, your answer? BEL. Now the time’s not fit; You see my husband’s her HIP. I’ll now then leave you, And choose mine hour: but, ere I part away, Hark you, remember I must have no nay.— Matheo, I will leave yo MAT. A glass of win HIP. Not now; I’ll visit you at other times. You’re come off well, then? MAT. Excellent well, I thank your lordship: I owe you my life, my lord, and will pay my best blood in any service of yours. HIP. I’ll take no such dear payment. Hark you, Matheo; I know the prison is a gulf; if money Run low with you, my purse is yours, call for it. MAT. Faith, my lord, I thank my stars they send me down some; I cannot sink so long as these bladders hold. HIP. I will not see your fortunes ebb; pray, try: To starve in full barns were fond[302] modesty. MAT. Open the door, sirrah. HIP. Drink this; And anon, I pray thee, give thy mistress this. [_Gives to_ FRISCOBALDO, _who opens the door, first money, then a purse, and exit_.

OR. O noble spirit! if no worse guests here dwell, My blue coat[303] sits on my old shoulders well. MAT. The only royal fellow! he’s bounteous as the Indies. What’s that he said to thee, Bellafront? BEL. Nothing. MAT. I prithee, good girl—— BEL. Why, I tell you, nothing. MAT. Nothing? it’s well: tricks! that I must be beholden to a scald, hot-livered, goatish gallant, to stand with my cap in my hand and vail bonnet, when I ha’ spread as lofty sails as himself! would I had been hanged! nothing?—Pacheco, brush my cloak. OR. Where is’t, sir? MAT. Come,[304] we’ll fly high. Nothing? there is a whore still in thine eye. [_Exit._ OR. My twenty pounds fly[305] high. O wretched woman! This varlet’s able to make Lucrece common. [_Aside._

How now, mistress? has my master dyed you into this sad colour? BEL. Fellow, begone, I pray thee; if thy tongue Itch after talk so much, seek out thy master, Thou’rt a fit instrument for him. OR. Zounds, 1 hope he will not play upon me! BEL. Play on thee? no, you two will fly together, Because you’re roving arrows of one feather. Would thou wouldst leave my house, thou ne’er shalt please me! Weave thy nets[306] ne’er so high, Thou shalt be but a spider in mine eye. Thou’rt rank with poison: poison temper’d well Is food for health, but thy black tongue doth swell With venom to hurt him that gave thee bread: To wrong men absent is to spurn the dead; And so did’st thou thy master and my father. OR. You have small reason to take his part, for I have heard him say five hundred times you were as arrant a whore as ever stiffened tiffany neck-cloths in water-starch upon a Saturday i’ th’ afternoon. BEL. Let him say worse: when, for the earth’s offence, Hot vengeance through the marble clouds is driven, Is’t fit earth shoot again those darts at heaven? OR. And so if your father call you whore, you’ll not call him old knave.—Friscobaldo, she carries thy mind up and down; she’s thine own flesh, blood, and bone. [_Aside._]—Troth, mistress, to tell you true, the fireworks that ran from me upon lines against my good old master your father were but to try how my young master your husband loved such squibs: but it’s well known I love your father as myself: I’ll ride for him at midnight, run for you by owl-light; I’ll die for him, drudge for you; I’ll fly low, and I’ll fly high, as my master says, to do you good, if you’ll forgive me. BEL. I am not made of marble; I forgive thee. OR. Nay, if you were made of marble, a good stone-cutter might cut you. I hope the twenty pound I delivered to my master is in a sure hand. BEL. In a sure hand, I warrant thee, for spending. OR. I see my young master is a madcap and a _bonus socius_. I love him well, mistress; yet as well as I love him, I’ll not play the knave with you: look you, I could cheat you of this purse full of money; but I am an old lad, and I scorn to cony-catch,[307] yet I ha’ been dog at a cony in my time. [_Gives purse._ BEL. A purse? where hadst it? OR. The gentleman that went away whispered in mine ear, and charged me to give it you. BEL. The lord Hippolito? OR. Yes, if he be a lord, he gave it me. BEL.’Tis all gold. OR. ’Tis like so: it may be he thinks you want money, and therefore bestows his alms bravely, like a lord. BEL. He thinks a silver net can catch the poor: Here’s bait to choke a nun, and turn her whore. Wilt thou be honest to me? OR. As your nails to your fingers, which I think never deceived you. BEL. Thou to this lord shalt go; commend me to him, And tell him this: the town has held out long, Because within ’twas rather true than strong; To sell it now were base: say, ’tis no hold Built of weak stuff, to be blown up with gold. He shall believe thee by this token, or this; If not, by this. [_Giving purse, ring, and letters._ OR. Is this all? BEL. This is all. OR. Mine own girl still! [_Aside._ BEL. A star may shoot, not fall. [_Exit._ OR. A star? nay, thou art more than the moon, for thou hast neither changing quarters, nor a man standing in thy circle with a bush of thorns. Is’t possible the lord Hippolito, whose face is as civil as the outside of a dedicatory book, should be a muttonmonger?[308] A poor man has but one ewe, and this grandee sheep-biter leaves whole flocks of fat wethers, whom he may knock down, to devour this. I’ll trust neither lord nor butcher with quick flesh for this trick; the cuckoo, I see now, sings all the year, though every man cannot hear him; but I’ll spoil his notes. Can neither love-letters, nor the devil’s common pick-locks, gold, nor precious stones, make my girl draw up her percullis?[309] Hold out still, wench! All are not bawds, I see now, that keep doors, Nor all good wenches that are mark’d for whores. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_Before_ CANDIDO’S _Shop_.

_Enter_ CANDIDO, _and_ LODOVICO _disguised as a Prentice_.

LOD. Come, come, come, what do ye lack,[310] sir? what do ye lack, sir? what is’t ye lack, sir? Is not my worship well suited? did you ever see a gentleman better disguised? CAN. Never, believe me, signor. LOD. Yes, but when he has been drunk.[311] There be prentices would make mad gallants, for they would spend all, and drink, and whore, and so forth; and I see we gallants could make mad prentices. How does thy wife like me?—nay, I must not be so saucy, then I spoil all— pray you, how does my mistress like me? CAN. Well; for she takes you for a very simple fellow. LOD. And they that are taken for such are commonly the arrantest knaves: but to our comedy, come. CAN. I shall not act it: chide, you say, and fret, And grow impatient! I shall never do’t. LOD. ’Sblood, cannot you do as all the world does, counterfeit? CAN. Were I a painter that should live by drawing Nothing but pictures of an angry man, I should not earn my colours: I cannot do’t. LOD. Remember you’re a linen-draper, and that if you give your wife a yard, she’ll take an ell: give her not therefore a quarter of your yard, not a nail. CAN. Say I should turn to ice, and nip her love Now ’tis but in the bud?[312] LOD. Well, say she’s nipt. CAN. It will so overcharge[313] her heart with grief, That, like a cannon, when her sighs go off, She in her duty either will recoil Or break in pieces, and so die: her death By my unkindness might be counted murder. LOD. Die? never, never. I do not bid you beat her, nor give her black eyes, nor pinch her sides; but cross her humours. Are not bakers’ arms the scales of justice, yet is not their bread light? and may not you, I pray, bridle her with a sharp bit, yet ride her gently? CAN. Well, I will try your pills: Do you your faithful service, and be ready Still at a pinch to help me in this part, Or else I shall be out clean. LOD. Come, come, I’ll prompt you. CAN. I’ll call her forth now, shall I? LOD. Do, do, bravely. CAN. Luke, I pray, bid your mistress to come hither. LOD. Luke, I pray,[314] bid your mistress to come hither! CAN. Sirrah, bid my wife come to me: why, when?[315] FIRST P.[316] [_within_] Presently, sir, she comes. LOD. La, you, there’s the echo! she comes.

_Enter Bride._

BRIDE. What is your pleasure with me? CAN. Marry, wife, I have intent; and, you see, this stripling here, He bears good will and liking to my trade, And means to deal in linen. LOD. Yes indeed, sir, I would deal in linen, if my mistress like me so well as I like her. CAN. I hope to find him honest: pray, good wife, Look that his bed and chamber be made ready. BRIDE. You’re best to let him hire me for his maid: I look to his bed! look to’t yourself. CAN. Even so? I swear to you a great oath—— LOD. Swear? cry zounds! CAN. I will not,—go to, wife,—I will not—— LOD. That your great oath! CAN. Swallow these gudgeons. LOD. Well said! BRIDE. Then fast, then you may choose.[317] CAN. You know at table What tricks you play’d, swagger’d, broke glasses, fie, Fie, fie, fie! and now, before my prentice here, You make an ass of me, thou—what shall I call thee? BRIDE. Even what you will. LOD. Call her arrant whore. CAN. O fie, by no means! then she’ll call me cuckold.— Sirrah, go look to th’ shop.—How does this shew? LOD. Excellent well.—I’ll go look to the shop, sir.—Fine cambrics, lawns; what do you lack? [_Goes into the shop._[318] CAN. A curst cow’s milk I ha’ drunk once before, And ’twas so rank in taste, I’ll drink no more: Wife, I’ll tame yo BRIDE. You may, sir, if you can; But at a wrestling I have seen a fellow Limb’d like an ox thrown by a little ma CAN. And so you’ll throw me?—Reach me, knaves, a yard! LOD. A yard for my master!

LODOVICO _returns from the shop with a yard-wand, and followed by Prentices_. FIRST P. My master is grown valiant. CAN. I’ll teach you fencing tricks.

PRENTICES. Rare, rare! a prize![319] LOD. What will you do, sir? CAN. Marry, my good prentice, Nothing but breathe my wife. BRIDE. Breathe me with your yard? LOD. No, he’ll but measure you out, forsooth. BRIDE. Since you’ll needs fence, handle your weapon well, For if you take a yard, I’ll take an ell.— Reach me an ell! LOD. An ell for my mistress! [_Brings an ell-wand from the shop._]—Keep the laws of the noble science, sir, and measure weapons with her: your yard is a plain heathenish weapon; ’tis too short; she may give you a handful, and yet you’ll not reach her. CAN. Yet I ha’ the longer arm.—Come, fall to’t roundly, And spare not me, wife, for I’ll lay’t on soundly: If o’er husbands their wives will needs be masters, We men will have a law to win’t at wasters.[320] LOD. ’Tis for the breeches, is’t not? CAN. For the breeches. BRIDE. Husband, I’m for you; I’ll not strike in jest. CAN. Nor I. BRIDE. But will you sign to one request? CAN. What’s that? BRIDE. Let me give the first blow. CAN. The first blow, wife?—Shall I?[321] LOD. Let her ha’t: If she strike hard, in to her and break her pate! CAN. A bargain: strike! BRIDE. Then guard you from this blow, For I play all at legs, but ’tis thus low. [_Kneels._ Behold, I’m such a cunning fencer grown, I keep my ground, yet down I will be thrown With the least blow you give me: I disdain The wife that is her husband’s sovereign. She that upon your pillow first did rest, They say, the breeches wore, which I detest: The tax which she impos’d on[322] you, I abate you; If me you make your master, I shall hate you. The world shall judge who offers fairest play; You win the breeches, but I win the day. CAN. Thou winn’st the day indeed. Give me thy hand; I’ll challenge thee no more: my patient breast Play’d thus the rebel only for a jest: Here’s the rank rider that breaks colts; ’tis he Can tame the mad folks and curst wives.[323] BRIDE. Who? your man? CAN. My man? my master, though his head be bare; But he’s so courteous, he’ll put off his hair. LOD. Nay, if your service be so hot a man cannot keep his hair on, I’ll serve you no longer.[324] BRIDE. Is this your schoolmaster? LOD. Yes, faith, wench, I taught him to take thee down: I hope thou canst take him down without teaching;

You ha’ got the conquest, and you both are friends.[325] CAN. Bear witness else. LOD. My prenticeship then ends. CAN. For the good service you to me have done, I give you all your years. LOD. I thank you, master. I’ll kiss my mistress now, that she may say, My man was bound and free all in one day. [_Exeunt._

ACT III. SCENE I.

_An Apartment in_ HIPPOLITO’S _House_.

_Enter_ INFELICE, _and_ ORLANDO _disguised as a Serving-man._

INF. From whom, sayst thou? OR. From a poor gentlewoman, madam, whom I serve. INF. And what’s your business? OR. This, madam: my poor mistress has a waste piece of ground, which is her own by inheritance, and left to her by her mother; there’s a lord now that goes about, not to take it clean from her, but to enclose it to himself, and to join it to a piece of his lordship’s. INF. What would she have me do in this? OR. No more, madam, but what one woman should do for another in such a case. My honourable lord your husband would do any thing in her behalf, but she had rather put herself into your hands, because you, a woman, may do more with the duke your father. INF. Where lies this land? OR. Within a stone’s cast of this place: my mistress, I think, would be content to let him enjoy it after her decease, if that would serve his turn, so my master would yield too; but she cannot abide to hear that the lord should meddle with it in her lifetime. INF. Is she then married? why stirs not her husband in it? OR. Her husband stirs in it underhand; but because the other is a great rich man, my master is loath to be seen in it too much. INF. Let her in writing draw the cause at large, And I will move the duke. OR. ’Tis set down, madam, here in black and white already. Work it so, madam, that she may keep her own without disturbance, grievance, molestation, or meddling of any other, and she bestows this purse of gold on your ladyship. INF. Old man, I’ll plead for her, but take no fees; Give lawyers them, I swim not in that flood; I’ll touch no gold till I have done her good. OR. I would all proctors’ clerks were of your mind! I should law more amongst them than I do then. Here, madam, is the survey, not only of the manor itself, but of the grange-house, with every meadow, pasture, plough-land, cony-burrow, fish-pond, hedge, ditch, and bush, that stands in it. [_Gives a letter._ INF. My husband’s name and hand and seal at arms To a love-letter! where hadst thou this writing? OR. From the foresaid party, madam, that would keep the foresaid land out of the foresaid lord’s fingers. INF. My lord turned ranger now! OR. You’re a good huntress, lady; you ha’ found your game already: your lord would fain be a ranger, but my mistress requests you to let him run a course in your own park; if you’ll not do’t for love, then do’t for money; she has no white money, but there’s gold; or else she prays you to ring him[326] by this token, and so you shall be sure his nose will not be rooting other men’s pastures. [_Gives purse and ring._ INF. This very purse was woven with mine own hands; This diamond, on that very night when he Untied my virgin girdle, gave I him: And must a common harlot share in mine? Old man, to quit thy pains, take thou the gold. OR. Not I, madam; old serving-men want no money. INF. Cupid himself was sure his secretary; These lines[327] are even the arrows Love let flies, The very ink dropt out of Venus’ eyes. OR. I do not think, madam, but he fetched off some poet or other for those lines, for they are parlous[328] hawks to fly at wenches. INF. Here’s honied poison! to me he ne’er thus writ; But lust can set a double edge on wit. OR. Nay, that’s true, madam; a wench will whet any thing, if it be not too dull. INF. Oaths, promises, preferments, jewels, gold, What snares should break, if all these cannot hold? What creature is thy mistress? OR. One of those creatures that are contrary to man—a woman. INF. What manner of woman? OR. A little tiny woman, lower than your ladyship by head and shoulders, but as mad a wench as ever unlaced a petticoat: these things should I indeed have delivered to my lord your husband. INF. They are deliver’d better: why should she Send back these things? OR. 'Ware, 'ware! there’s knavery. INF. Strumpets, like cheating gamesters, will not win At first; these are but baits to draw him in. How might I learn his hunting hours? OR. The Irish footman can tell you all his hunting hours, the park he hunts in, the doe he would strike; that Irish shackatory[329] beats the bush for him, and knows all; he brought that letter and that ring; he is the carrier. INF. Know’st thou what other gifts have pass’d between them? OR. Little saint Patrick knows all. INF. Him I’ll examine presently.

OR. Not whilst I am here, sweet madam. INF. Be gone, then, and what lies in me command. [_Exit_ ORLANDO.

Come hither, sirrah!

_Enter_ BRYAN.

How much cost those satins And cloth of silver which my husband sent by you To a low gentlewoman yonder? BRY. Faat satins? faat silvers? faat low gentlefolks? dow pratest dow knowest not what, i’faat, la. INF. She there to whom you carried letters. BRY. By dis hand and bod dow saist true, if I did so, O how? I know not a letter a’ de book, i’faat, la. INF. Did your lord never send you with a ring, sir, Set with a diamond? BRY. Never, sa crees sa’ me, never! he may run[330] at a towsand rings, i’faat, and I never hold his stirrup till he leap into de saddle. By saint Patrick, madam, I never touch my lord’s diamond, nor ever had to do, i’faat, la, with any of his precious stones.

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.