Part 24

LAT. Why, how now? what’s the broil? BRAN. The man of art, I take you, sir, to be. LAT. I’m the professor Of those slight cures you read of in the banner. BRAN. Our business was to you, most skilful sir; But in the way to you, right worshipful, I met a thief. LAT. A thief? BRAN. With my clothes on, sir: Let but the hose[662] be search’d, I’ll pawn my life There’s yet the tailor’s bill in one o’ th’ pockets, And a white thimble that I found i’ moonlight— Thou saw’st me when I put it in, Martino? MAR. Oy, oy! BRAN. O, has spoil’d The worthiest clerk that e’er drew warrant here! LAT. Sir, you’re a stranger, but I must deal plain with you; That suit of clothes must needs come oddly to you. MARTIA. I dare not say which way, that’s my affliction. [_Aside._ LAT. Is not your worship’s name signor Brandino, sir? BRAN. It has been so these threescore year[s] and upwards. LAT. I heard there was a robbery done last night Near to your house. MARTIA. You heard a truth then, sir, And I the man was robb’d. LAT. Ah, that’s too gross!— Send him away for fear of farther mischief; I do not like him, he’s a cunning knave. BRAN. I want but aid. LAT. Within there!

_Enter Servants._

BRAN. Seize upon That impudent thief. MARTIA. Then hear me speak. BRAN. Away! I’ll neither hear thee speak, nor wear those clothes again.— To prison with the varlet! MARTIA. How am I punish’d! BRAN. I’ll make thee bring out all before I leave thee. [_Exeunt Servants with_ MARTIA. LAT. You’ve took an excellent course with this bold villain, sir. BRAN. I’m sworn for service to the commonwealth, sir.

_Enter_ SILVIO, STRATIO, _and_ FIDUCIO, _disguised_. What are these, learned sir? LAT. O, they’re my patients.— Good morrow, gout, rupture, and palsy. STRA. ’Tis farewell gout almost, I thank your worship. LAT. What, no, you cannot part so soon, I hope? You came but lately to me. STRA. But most happily; I can go near to leap, sir. [_Leaps._ LAT. What, you cannot? Away, I say! take heed, be not too vent’rous though; I’ve had you but three days, remember that. STRA. Those three are better than three hundred, sir. [_Leaps._ LAT. Yet again? STRA. Ease takes pleasure to be known, sir. LAT. You with the rupture there, _hernia in scrotum_, Pray let me see your space[663] this morning; walk, sir, I’ll take your distance straight; ’twas F. O. yesterday: Ah, sirrah, here’s a simple alteration! _Secundo gradu_, ye F. U. already; Here’s a most happy change. Be of good comfort, sir; Your knees are come within three inches now Of one another; by to-morrow noon, I’ll make 'em kiss and jostle. SIL. Bless your worship! BRAN. You’ve a hundred prayers in a morning, sir. LAT. Faith, we’ve a few to pass away the day with.— Tailor, you had a stitch? FID. O, good your worship, I have had none since Easter: were I rid But of this whoreson palsy, I were happy; I cannot thread my needle. LAT. No? that’s hard; I never mark’d so much. FID. It comes by fits, sir. LAT. Alas, poor man!—What would your worship say now To see me help this fellow at an instant? BRAN. And make him firm from shaking? LAT. As a steeple, From the disease on’t. BRAN. ’Tis to me miraculous. LAT. You with your whoremaster disease, come hither; Here, take me this round glass, and hold it stedfast; [_Gives glass._ Yet more, sir; yet, I say; so. BRAN. Admirable! LAT. Go, live, and thread thy needle. BRAN. Here, Martino:— Alas, poor fool, his mouth is full of praises, And cannot utter 'em. LAT. No? what’s the malady? BRAN. The fury of a tooth. LAT. A tooth? ha, ha! I thought 't had been some gangrene, fistula, Canker, or ramex. BRAN. No, it’s enough as ’tis, sir. LAT. My man shall ease that straight.—Sit you down there, sir— [MARTINO _seats himself_. Take the tooth, sirrah, daintily, insensibly— But what’s your worship’s malady? that’s for me, sir. BRAN. Marry, pray, look you, sir; your worship’s counsel About mine eyes. LAT. Sore eyes? that’s nothing too, sir. BRAN. Byrlady,[664] I that feel it think it somewhat. LAT. Have you no convulsions, pricking aches, sir, Ruptures, or apostemates? BRAN. No, by my faith, sir, Nor do I desire to have 'em. LAT. Those are cures; There do I win my fame, sir.—Quickly, sirrah, Reach me the eye-cup hither.— [OCCULTO _gives him the eye-cup_. Do you make water well, sir? BRAN. I’m all well there. LAT. You feel no grief i’ th’ kidney? BRAN. Sound, sound, sound, sir. LAT. O, here’s a breath, sir, I must talk withal, One of these mornings. BRAN. There I think, i’faith, I am to blame indeed, and my wife’s words Are come to pass, sir. MAR. O, O! ’tis not that,’tis not that! [_While_ OCCULTO _gives a pull at one of his teeth_.

It is the next beyond it; there, there, there! OCC. The best have their mistakings: now I’ll fit you, sir. BRAN. What’s that, sweet sir, that comforts with his coolness? LAT. O, sovereign gear: wink hard, and keep it in, sir. [_While he applies the eye-cup to_ BRANDINO, _he picks his pocket_. MAR. O, O, O! OCC. Nay, here he goes; one twitch more, and he comes, sir.

[_While he draws one of_ MARTINO’S _teeth, he picks his pocket_. MAR. Auh, ho! OCC. Spit out; I told you he was gone, sir. BRAN. How cheers Martino? MAR. O, I can answer you now, master; I feel great ease, sir. BRAN. So do I, Martino. MAR. I’m rid of a sore burden, for my part, master, Of a scald[665] little one. LAT. Please but your worship now To take three drops of the rich water with you, I’ll undertake your man shall cure you, sir, At twice i’ your own chamber. BRAN. Shall he so, sir? LAT. I will uphold him in’t. MAR. Then will I do’t, sir. LAT. How lively your man’s now! MAR. O, I’m so light, methinks, Over I was![666] BRAN. What is’t contents your worship? LAT. Even what your worship please; I am not mercenary. BRAN. My purse is gone, Martino! LAT. How, your purse, sir? BRAN. ’Tis gone, i’faith; I’ve been among some rascals. MAR. And that’s a thing I ever gave you warning of, master; you care not What company you run into. BRAN. Lend me some money; chide me anon, I prithee. A pox on 'em for vipers! they ha’ suck’d blood o’ me. MAR. O master! BRAN. How now, man? MAR. My purse is gone too! BRAN. How? I’ll ne’er take warning more of thee while I live then; Thou art an hypocrite, and art not fit To give good counsel to thy master, that Canst not keep from ill company thyself. LAT. This is most strange, sir; both your purses gone! MAR. Sir, I’d my hand on mine when I came in. LAT. Are you but sure of that? O, would you were! MAR. As I’m of ease. LAT. Then they’re both gone one way, Be that your comfort. BRAN. Ay, but what way’s that, sir? LAT. That close knave in your clothes has got 'em both; ’Tis well you’ve clapt him fast. BRAN. Why, that’s impossible. LAT. O, tell not me, sir! I ha’ known purses gone, And the thief stand and look one full i’ th’ face, As I may do your worship and your man now. MAR. Nay, that’s most certain, master. BRAN. I will make That rascal in my clothes answer all this then, And all the robberies that have been done Since the moon chang’d.—Get you home first, Martino, And know if any of my wife’s things are missing, Or any more of mine: tell her he’s taken, And by that token he has took both our purses. MAR. That’s an ill token, master. BRAN. That’s all one, sir, She must have that or nothing; for I’m sure The rascal has left nothing else for a token. Begone! Make haste again, and meet me part o’ th’ way. MAR. I’ll hang the villain, And 'twere for nothing but the souse he gave me. [_Exit._ BRAN. Sir, I depart asham’d of my requital, And leave this seal-ring with you as a pledge Of further thankfulness. [_Gives ring._ LAT. No, I beseech you, sir. BRAN. Indeed you shall, sir. LAT. O, your worship’s word, sir. BRAN. You shall have my word too, for a rare gentleman As e’er I met withal. [_Exit._ LAT. Clear sight be with you, sir; If conduit-water, and my hostess’ milk, That comes with the ninth child now, may afford it! 'Life, I fear’d none but thee, my villanous tooth-drawer. OCC. There was no fear of me; I’ve often told you I was bound prentice to a barber once, But ran away i’ th’ second year. LAT. Ay, marry, That made thee give a pull at the wrong tooth, And me afraid of thee. What have we there, sirs? OCC. Some threescore dollars i’ the master’s purse, And sixteen in the clerk’s, a silver seal, Two or three amber beads, and four blank warrants. LAT. Warrants! where be they? the best news came yet: 'Mass, here’s his hand, and here’s his seal; I thank him: This comes most luckily; one of our fellows Was took last night, we’ll set him first at liberty, And other good boys after him; and if he In th’ old justice’s suit, whom we[667] robb’d lately, Will come oft 'roundly,[668] we’ll set him free too. OCC. That were a good deed, faith; we may, in pity. LAT. There’s nothing done merely for pity now-a-days, Money or ware must help too.

_Song, in parts, by_ LATROCINIO _and the rest_

_Give me fortune, give me health, Give me freedom, I’ll get wealth: Who complains his fate’s amiss, When he has the wide world his? He that has the devil in fee Can have but all, and so have we. Give us fortune, give us health, Give us freedom, we’ll get wealth. In every hamlet, town, and city, He has lands that was born witty._ [_Exeunt._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_A Room in_ BRANDINO’S _House_.

_Enter_ PHILIPPA _and_ VIOLETTA.

PHIL. How well this gentleman keeps his promise too! Sure there’s no trust in man. VIO. They’re all Franciscos, That’s my opinion, mistress; fools, or false ones. He might have had the honesty yet, i’faith, To send my master’s clothes home. PHIL. Ay, those clothes! VIO. Colliers come by the door every day, mistress— Nay, this is market-day too, poulterers, butchers; They would have lain most daintily in a pannier, And kept veal from the wind. PHIL. Those clothes much trouble me. VIO. Faith, and[669] he were a gentleman, as he seem’d To be, they would trouble him too, I think; Methinks he should have small desire to keep 'em. PHIL. Faith, and less pride to wear 'em, I should think, wench, Unless he kept 'em as a testimony For after-times, to shew what misery He past in his young days, and then weep o’er 'em. VIO. Weep, mistress? Nay, sure, methinks he should not weep for laughing.

_Enter_ MARTINO.

PHIL. Martino? O, we’re spoil’d, wench! are they come then? MAR. Mistress, be of good cheer, I’ve excellent news for you; Comfort your heart. What have you to breakfast, mistress? You shall have all again, I warrant you. PHIL. What says he, wench? VIO. I’m loath to understand him. MAR. Give me a note of all your things, sweet mistress; You shall not lose a hair, take’t of my word; We have him safe enough. PHIL. O, 'las, sweet wench, This man talks fearfully! VIO. And I know not what yet; That’s the worst, mistress. MAR. Can you tell me, pray, Whether the rascal has broke ope my desk or no? There’s a fine little barrel of pome-citrons Would have serv’d me this seven year: O, and my fig-cheese! The fig[670] of everlasting obloquy Go with him, if he have eat it! I’ll make haste; He cannot eat it all yet. He was taken, mistress, Grossly and beastly; how do you think, i’faith? PHIL. I know not, sir. MAR. Troth, in my master’s clothes: Would any thief but a beast been taken so? PHIL. Wench, wench! VIO. I have grief enough of mine own to tend, mistress. PHIL. Did he confess the robbery? MAR. O no, no, mistress; He’s a young cunning rascal, he confess’d nothing; While we were examining on him, he took away My master’s purse and mine, but confess’d nothing still. PHIL. That’s but some slanderous injury rais’d against him.— [_Aside._ Came not your master with you? MAR. No, sweet mistress: I must make haste and meet him; pray, despatch me then. PHIL. I’ve look’d o’er all with special heedfulness; There’s nothing miss’d, I can assure you, sir, But that suit of your master’s. MAR. I’m right glad on’t: That suit would hang him, yet I would not have Him hang’d in that suit though; it will disgrace My master’s fashion for ever, and make it as hateful As yellow bands.[671] [_Exit._ PHIL. O what shall’s do, wench? VIO. ’Tis no marvel, mistress, The poor young gentleman could not keep his promise. PHIL. Alas, sweet man, has confess’d nothing yet, wench! VIO. That shews his constancy and love to you, mistress: But you must do’t of force, there is no help for’t, The truth can neither shame nor hurt you much; Let 'em make what they can on’t. 'Twere sin and pity, i’faith, To cast away so sweet a gentleman For such a pair of infidel hose[672] and doublet; I’d not hang a Jew for a whole wardrobe on 'em. PHIL. Thou say’st true, wench.

_Enter_ MARTIA, _disguised as before_.

VIO. O, O, they’re come again, mistress! PHIL. Signor Ansaldo? MARTIA. The same; mightily cross’d, lady, But, past hope, freed again by a doctor’s means, A man of art, I know not justly what indeed; But pity, and the fortunate gold you gave me, Wrought my release between 'em. PHIL. Met you not My husband’s man? MARTIA. I took such strange ways, lady, I hardly met a creature. PHIL. O, most welcome! VIO. But how shall we bestow him now we have him, mistress? PHIL. Alas, that’s true! VIO. Martino may come back again. PHIL. Step you into that little chamber speedily, sir,— And dress him up in one of my gowns and head-tires, His youth will well endure it. VIO. That will be admirable. PHIL. Nay, do’t, do’t quickly then, and cut that suit Into a hundred pieces, that it may never Be known again. VIO. A hundred? nay, ten thousand at the least, mistress; for if there be a piece of that suit left as big as my nail, the deed will come out: ’tis worse than a murder; I fear 'twill never be hid. PHIL. Away, do your endeavour, and despatch, wench. [_Exeunt_ VIOLETTA _and_ MARTIA. I’ve thought upon a way of certain safety, And I may keep him while I have him too, Without suspicion now; I’ve heard o’ th’ like: A gentleman, that for a lady’s love Was thought six months her woman, tended on her In her own garments, and she being a widow, Lay night by night with her in way of comfort; Marry, in conclusion, match they did together: Would I’d a copy of the same conclusion!

_Enter_ BRANDINO _with a writing_.

He’s come himself now. If thou be’st a happy wench, Be fortunate in thy speed! I’ll delay time With all the means I can.—O, welcome, sir! BRAN. I’ll speak to you anon, wife, and kiss you shortly; I’m very busy yet: [_reads_] _Cocksey-down, Memberry, Her manor-house at Well-dun_. PHIL. What’s that, good sir? BRAN. The widow’s, your sweet sister’s deed of gift; Sh’as made all her estate over to me, wench; She’ll be too hard for 'em all: and now come buss me, Good luck after thieves’ handsel. PHIL. O ’tis happy, sir, You have him fast! BRAN. I ha’ laid him safe enough, wench. PHIL. I was so lost in joy at the report on’t, I quite forgot one thing to tell Martino. BRAN. What’s that, sweet blood? PHIL. He and his villains, sir, Robb’d a sweet gentlewoman last night. BRAN. A gentlewoman? PHIL. Nay, most uncivilly and basely stript her, sir. BRAN. O barbarous slaves! PHIL. I was even fain, for womanhood’s sake, Alas, and charity’s, to receive her in, And clothe her poor wants in a suit of mine. BRAN. 'Twas most religiously done; I long for her. Who have I brought to see thee, think’st thou, woman? PHIL. Nay, sir, I know not. BRAN. Guess, I prithee, heartily; An enemy of thine. PHIL. That I hope you have not, sir. BRAN. But all was done in jest: he cries thee mercy; Francisco, sirrah.[673] PHIL. O, I think not on him! BRAN. That letter was but writ to try thy constancy; He confess’d all to me. PHIL. Joy on him, sir!

_Enter_ FRANCISCO.

So far am I from malice, look you, sir—— Welcome, sweet signor; but I’ll ne’er trust you, sir. BRAN. Faith, I’m beholding[674] to thee, wife, for this. FRAN. Methinks I enter now this house with joy, Sweet peace, and quietness of conscience; I wear no guilty blush upon my cheek For a sin stampt last midnight: I can talk now With that kind man, and not abuse him inwardly With any scornful thought made of his shame: What a sweet being[675] is an honest mind! It speaks peace to itself and all mankind. [_Aside._

_Re-enter_ MARTINO.

BRAN. Martino! MAR. Master? BRAN. There’s another robbery done, sirrah, By the same party. MAR. What? your worship mocks, Under correction. PHIL. I forgot to tell thee; He robb’d a lovely gentlewoman. MAR. O pagan! This fellow will be ston’d to death with pipkins; Your women in the suburbs will so maul him With broken cruises and pitchers without ears, He’ll never die alive, that’s my opinion.

_Re-enter_ MARTIA _dressed as a woman, and_ VIOLETTA.

PHIL. Look you, your judgments, gentlemen;—yours especially, Signor Francisco, whose mere[676] object now Is woman at these years, that’s the eye-saint, I know, Amongst young gallants:—husband, you’ve a glimpse too; You offer half an eye, as old as you are. BRAN. Byrlady,[677] better, wench; an eye and a half, I trow; I should be sorry else. PHIL. What think you now, sirs, Is’t not a goodly, manly gentlewoman? BRAN. Beshrew my heart else, wife.— Pray, soft a little, signor; you’re but my guest, remember; I’m master of the house, I’ll have the first buss. PHIL. But, husband, ’tis the courtesy of all places To give a stranger ever the first bit. BRAN. In woodcock or so; but there’s no heed to be taken in mutton;[678] we commonly fall so roundly to that, we forget ourselves.— I’m sorry for thy fortune, but thou’rt welcome, lady. [_Kisses_ MARTIA. MAR. My master kisses as I’ve heard a hackney-man[679] Cheer up his mare,—chap, chap! [_Aside._ BRAN. I have him fast, lady, And he shall lie by’t close. MARTIA. You cannot do me A greater pleasure, sir. BRAN. I’m happily glad on’t. FRAN. [_after kissing_ MARTIA] Methinks there’s somewhat whispers in my soul, This is the hour I must begin my acquaintance With honest love, and banish all loose thoughts; My fate speaks to me from the modest eye Of yon sweet gentlewoman. [_Aside._ PHIL. Wench, wench! VIO. Pish, hold in your breath, mistress; If you be seen to laugh, you spoil all presently: I keep it in with all the might I have—puh! MARTIA. Pray, what young gentleman’s that, sir? BRAN. An honest boy, i’faith, And come[680] of a good kind; dost like him, lady? I would thou hadst him, and[681] thou be’st not promis’d; He’s worth ten thousand dollars. VIO. By this light, mistress, My master will go near to make a match anon: Methinks I dream of admirable sport, mistress. PHIL. Peace; thou’rt a drab. BRAN. Come hither now, Francisco: I’ve known the time I’ve had a better stomach; Now I can dine with looking upon meat. FRAN. That face deserv’d a better fortune, lady, Than last night’s rudeness shew’d. MARTIA. We cannot be Our choosers, sir, in our own destiny. FRAN. I return better pleas’d than when I went. MAR. And could that beastly imp rob you, forsooth? MARTIA. Most true, forsooth. I will not altogether, sir, disgrace you, Because you look half like a gentleman. MAR. And that’s the mother’s half. MARTIA. There’s my hand for you. MAR. I swear you could not give me any thing I love better, a hand gets me my living: O sweet lemon-peel! [_Kisses_ MARTIA’S _hand_. FRAN. May I request a modest word or two, Lady, in private with you? MARTIA. With me, sir? FRAN. To make it sure from all suspect of injury Or unbeseeming privacy, which heaven knows Is not my aim now, I’ll entreat this gentleman For an ear-witness unto all our conference. MARTIA. Why, so, I am content, sir. BRAN. So am I, lady. [_Exeunt_ MARTIA _and_ FRANCISCO. MAR. O master, here is a rare bedfellow For my mistress to-night! for you know we must Both out of town again. BRAN. That’s true, Martino. MAR. I do but think how they’ll lie telling of tales together, The prettiest! BRAN. The prettiest[682] indeed. MAR. Their tongues will never lin[683] wagging, master. BRAN. Never, Martino, never. [_Exeunt_ BRANDINO _and_ MARTINO _severally_. PHIL. Take heed you be not heard. VIO. I fear you most, mistress. PHIL. Me, fool? ha, ha! VIO. Why, look you, mistress, faith, you’re faulty; ha, ha! PHIL. Well said, i’faith; where lies the fault now, gossip? VIO. O for a husband! I shall burst with laughing else; This house is able to spoil any maid. PHIL. I’ll be reveng’d now soundly of Francisco, For failing me when time was. VIO. Are you there, mistress? I thought you would not forget that, however: a good turn disappointed is ever the last thing that a woman forgives, she’ll scarce do’t when she’s speechless; nay, though she hold up her whole hand for all other injuries, she’ll forgive that but with one finger.

PHIL. I’ll vex his heart as much as he mock’d mine. VIO. But that may mar your hopes too, if our gentlewoman Be known to be a man. PHIL. Not as I’ll work it; I would not lose this sweet revenge, methinks, For a whole fortnight of the old man’s absence, Which is the sweetest benefit next to this.—

_Re-enter_ MARTIA.