part I

like not this Family, nor, indeed, some kind of private lecturing that women use. Look too’t, you that have such gadders to your wives! self-willed they are as children, and, i’faith, capable of not much more than they, peevish[297] by custom, naturally fools. I remember a pretty wooden sentence in a preamble to an exercise,[298] where the reader prayed that men of his coat might grow up like cedars to make good wainscot in the House of Sincerity: would not this wainscot phrase be writ in brass, to publish him that spake it for an animal? Why, such wooden pellets out of earthen trunks[299] do strike these females into admiration, hit[300] ’em home; sometimes, perhaps, in at one ear and out at t’other, and then they depart, in opinion wiser than their neighbours, fraught with matter able to take down and mortify their husbands. Well, I’ll home now, and bring the true word next time. I shall expect my wife anon, red-hot with zeal, and big with melting tears; and this night do I expect, as her manner is, she will weep me a whole chamber-pot full. _Loquor lapides?_ do I cast pills abroad? ’Tis no matter what I say; I talk like a ’pothecary, as I am: I have only purged myself of a little choler and passion, and am now armed with a patient resolution. But how? to put my horns in my pocket? no:

What wise men bear, is not for me to scorn; ’Tis a[n] honourable thing to wear the horn. [_Exit._

SCENE IV.

LIPSALVE’S _Chamber_.

_Enter_ LIPSALVE _without his doublet, a whip in his hand_.

LIP. Fortune, devil’s turd i’ thy teeth! I’ll turn no more o’ thy wheel: art is above thy might. What though my project with mistress Maria failed? more ways to the wood than one; there’s variety in love. It is believed I am out of town; my door is open: the hour is at hand; all things squared by the doctor’s rule; and now I look for the spirit to bring me warm comfort to clothe my nakedness, and that is mistress Purge, the cordial of a Familist; and come quickly, good spirit, or else my teeth will chatter for thee. [_Scene shuts._

SCENE V.[301]

_Before_ LIPSALVE’S _Chamber-door_.

_Enter_ GUDGEON _without his doublet, a whip in his hand_.

ᚨGUD. O the naked pastimes of love, the scourge of dulness, the purifier of uncleanness, and the hot-house of humanity! I have taken physic of master Purge any time this twelvemonths to purge my humour upon’s wife, and I have ever found her so fugitive, from exercise[302] to exercise, and from Family to Family, that I could never yet open the close-stool of my mind to her; so that I may well say with Ovid, _Hei mihi,[303] quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis!_ Now am I driven to prove the violent virtue of conjuration: if it hit, and that I yerk my Familist out of the spirit, I’ll hang up my scourge-stick for a trophy, and emparadize my thoughts: though the doctor go to the devil, ’tis no matter. Ha, let me see: Lipsalve’s door open, and himself out of town? Excellent doctor, soothsaying doctor, oraculous doctor! [_Enters the chamber._

SCENE VI.

LIPSALVE’S _Chamber_.

LIPSALVE _discovered, as before_: GLISTER _watching above_.

GLI. I have taken up this standing to see my gallants play at barriers[304] with scourge-sticks, for the honour of my punk:

_Enter_ GUDGEON.

and in good time I see my brave spirits shining in bright armour, nakedly burning in the hell-fire of lechery, and ready for the hot encounter: sound trumpets, the combatants are mounted! [_Aside._ GUD. The apparition! mistress Purge peers through him; I see her. LIP. The spirit appears! but he might have come sooner: I am numbed with cold, a shivering ague hath taken away my courage. GLI. They are afraid one of another: look, how they tremble! the flesh and the devil strengthen ’em! ha, ha, ha! [_Aside._ GUD. Has ’a no cloven feet? what a laxative fever shakes me! LIP. Will ’a not carry me with him to hell? well, I must venture.—_Clogmathos._ GUD. My cue.—_Clogmathathos._ LIP. My cue.—_Garrazin._ GUD. _Garragas._ LIP. _Garrazinos._ GUD. _Ton tetuphon._ LIP. _Tes tetuphes._ BOTH. _With a whirly twinos._ [_They lash one another._ LIP. Hold,[305] hold, hold! GUD. Gogs nowns, gogs blood! LIP. A pox, a plague, the devil take you! GUD. Truce, truce, I smart, I smart. GLI. Ha, ha, ha! O, for one of the hoops of my Cornelius’ tub![306] I must needs be gone, I shall burst myself with laughing else. Magic hath no such rule: men cannot find Lust ever better handled in his kind. [_Aside, and exit above._ GUD. What art thou? with the name of Jove I conjure thee! LIP. With any name, saving the whip; I’ll no more of that conjuration, a plague on’t! GUD. Speak, art not a spirit in the likeness of my friend Lipsalve, that should transform thyself to mistress Purge? LIP. How, a spirit? I hope spirits have no flesh and blood; and I am sure thou hast drawn blood out of my flesh with the spirit of thy whip. GUD. Then shall we prove to be honest gulls, and the doctor an arrant knave. LIP. A plague upon him for a Glister! he has given our loves a suppositor[307] with a _recumbentibus_. I’ll tell thee, sirrah,—— GUD. Tell not me, let me prevent thee; the wind shall not take the breath of our gross abuse: we feel the gullery, therefore let us swear by our naked truths, and by the hilts of these our blades, our flesh-tamers, to be revenged upon that paraperopandentical doctor, that pocky doctor. LIP. Agreed: we’ll cuckold him, that he shall not be able to put his head in at’s doors; and make his precise, puritanical, and peculiar punk, his ’pothecary’s drug there, a known cockatrice[308] to the world. GUD. If report catch this knavery, we have lost our reputations for ever: wherefore let’s be secret. Ill tax we women of credulity, When men are gull’d with such gross foppery. LIP. Come, let us in, and cover both our shames. This conjuration to the world’s a novelty; Gallants turn’d spirits, and whipt for lechery. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VII.

MARIA’S _Apartment_.

_Enter_ MARIA.

MAR. Gerardine, come forth, Maria calls! Those ribs shall not enfold thy buxom limbs One minute longer: the cincture of mine arms Shall more securely keep thy soul from harms. GER. [_coming out of the trunk_] What heavenly breath, of Phitonessa’s power,[309] That rais’d the dead corpse of her friend[310] to life, Prevails no less on me! for even this urn, The figure of my sadder requiem, Gives up my bones, my love, my life, and all, To her that gives me freedom in my thrall. MAR. Be brief, sweet friend, salute and part in one; For niggard time now threats with imminent danger Our late joy’d scope. Thy earnest, then, of love, Ere Sol have compass’d half the signs, I fear Will shew a blushing fault; but ’twas thine aim,[311] T’ enforce consent in him that bars thy claim. GER. Love salves that fault: let time our guilt reveal, I’ll ne’er deny my deed, my hand, and seal. The elements shall lose their ancient force, Water and earth suppress the fire and air, Nature in all use a preposterous course, Each kind forget his likeness to repair, Before I’ll falsify my faith to thee. MAR. The humorous bodies’ elemental kind Shall sooner lose th’ innated heat of love, The soul in nature’s bounds shall be confin’d, Heaven’s course shall retrograde and leave to move, Ere I surcease[312] to cherish mutual fire, With thoughts refin’d in flames of true desire. GER. These words are odours on[313] the sacred shrine Of love’s best deity: the marriage-god Longs to perform those[314] ceremonious rites Which terminate our hopes: till mine grow full, I’ll use that intercourse amongst my friends That erst I did; then, in the height of joy, I’ll come to challenge interest in my boy. Till then, farewell. MAR. You’ll come upon your cue? GER. Doubt not of that. MAR. Then twenty times adieu. [_Exeunt._

ACT IV. SCENE I.

_A Street: before the Meeting-house of the Family of Love._

_Enter_ LIPSALVE, GUDGEON, SHRIMP, _and_ PERIWINKLE.

GUD. Come, boys, our clothes,[315] boys: and what is the most current news, Periwinkle? PER. Faith, sir, fortune hath favoured us with no news but what the pedlar brought from Norfolk. LIP. Is there nothing stirring at court, Shrimp? SHR. Faith, there is, sir, but nothing new. LIP. Good wag, faith! thou smellest somewhat of a courtier, though thy mother was a citizen’s wife.—Off with that filthy great band, nay, quick; on with your robe of sanctity, nay, suddenly, man. GUD. And why must we shift ourselves into this demure habit, if impossible to be of the Family and keep our own fashion? LIP. Tut, man, the name of a gallant is more hateful to them than the sight of a corner-cap. Hadst thou heard the protestations the wife of a bellows-mender made but yesternight against gallants, thou hadst for ever abjured crimson breeches. She swore that all gallants were persons inferior to bellows-menders, for the trade of bellows-making was very aerial and high; and what were men and women but bellows, for they take wind in at one place and do evaporate at another;—evaporate was her very phrase. GUD. Methinks, her phrase flew with somewhat too strong a vapour. LIP. Nay, she proves farther, that all men receive their being chiefly from bellows, without which the fire burns not; without fire the pot seethes not; the pot not seething, powdered beef is not to be eaten; of which, she then averred our nation was a great devourer, and without which they could neither fight for their country abroad, nor get children at home; for, said she, powdered beef is a great joiner of nerves together. GUD. What answer madest thou? LIP. Marry, that I thought a bawd was a greater joiner of nerves together than powdered beef: with that she protested that a bawd was an instrument of the devil, and as she had proved that bellows-makers were of God’s trade, so bawds were of the devil’s trade; for (and thereupon she blew her nose) the devil and bawds did both live by the sins of the people. GUD. No more: mistress Purge is at hand. LIP. Vanish, boys, away. [_Exeunt_ SHRIMP _and_ PERIWINKLE.]— Make haste: before Jove, she’ll be with us ere we can be provided for her. [_They retire._

_Enter_ MISTRESS PURGE, CLUB _carrying a link before her_.

MIS. P. Advance your link, Club. At what time wert thou bound, Club? at Guttide,[316] Hollantide,[317] or Candletide? CLUB. I was bound, indeed, about midsummer. MIS. P. And when hath thy ’prenticeship end? at Michaeltide next? CLUB. So I take it. MIS. P. They say, Club, you fall very heavy on such you love not: you never learnt that of me. CLUB. Indeed, mistress, I must confess my falling is rustic, gross, and butcher-like: marry, yours is a pretty, foolish, light, courtlike[318] falling: yet, believe me, my master smells somewhat too gross of the purgation; he wants tutoring. MIS. P. And why, I pray? CLUB. My master being set last night in his shop, comes master doctor Glister, as his manner is, squirting in suddenly; and after some conference, tells my master that, by his own knowledge, you were young with child: to which my master replied, Why, master doctor, will you put me to more charges yet? MIS. P. Thou art a fool: in that my husband spake as wisely as if the master of his company had spoke. He knows doctors have receipts for women, which make[319] them most apt to conceive; and he promising ’a had ministered the same lately to me, thereupon spake it. Lead on with your link. LIP. Art ready? GUD. Ready. LIP. Then speak pitifully, look scurvily, and dissemble cunningly, and we shall quickly prove two of the Fraternity. [_Advancing with_ GUDGEON.]—Benediction and sanctity, love and charity fall on mistress Purge, sister of the Family! MIS. P. And what, I pray, be you two? LIP.[320] Two newly converted from the rags of Christianity to become good members in the house of the Family. MIS. P. Who, I pray, converted you? GUD. Master[321] Dryfat, the merchant. MIS. P. And from what sins hath he converted you? LIP. From two very notorious crimes; the first was from eating fish on Fridays, and the second from speaking reverently of the clergy: but ’a resolved[322] us your talent in edifying young men went far beyond his.

_Enter_ PURGE _behind_.

MIS. P. A talent I have therein, I must confess, nor am I very nice[323] at fit times to shew it: for your better instructions, therefore, you must never hereafter frequent taverns nor tap-houses, no masques nor mummeries, no pastimes nor playhouses. GUD. Must we have no recreation? MIS. P. Yes, on the days which profane lips call holydays, you may take your spaniel and spend some hours at the ducking-pond. LIP. What are we bound unto during the time we remain in the Family? MIS. P. During the light of the candle you are to be very attentive; which being extinguished, how to behave yourselves I will deliver in private. [_Whispers._[324] PUR. ’Tis now come to a whisper. What young Familists be these? i’faith, I’ll make one; I’ll trip you, wife: I scent your footing, wife. For Galen[325] writes, Paracelsus can tell, ’Pothecaries have brains and noses eke[326] to smell. [_Aside._ LIP. We shall with much diligence observe it. PUR. I fear I shall have small cause to thank that diligence: but do your worst; He that hath read five[327] herbals in one year Can find a trick which shall prevent this gear.[328]

They are going: follow, Purge, close, close and softly, like a horsekeeper in a lady’s matted chamber at midnight. [_Aside._

[MISTRESS PURGE _knocks at the door of the Meeting-house_.

[_Within_]. Who knocks? MIS. P. Brethren, and a Sister in the Family. [_Within_]. Enter in peace.

[MISTRESS PURGE, LIPSALVE, GUDGEON, _and_ CLUB _enter the house_.

PUR. Brethren, and a Sister! that’s the word. How beastly was I mistaken last day! I should have said, A Brother in the Family, and I said, A Familiar Brother; for which I and my family were thrust out of doors: but, as Titus Silus of Holborn Bridge most learnedly was wont to say, qd——[329] [_Knocks._ _Within_]. Who’s there? PUR. A Brother in the Family. [_Within_]. Enter, and welcome. [PURGE _enters the house_.

SCENE II.

_A Street._

_Enter_ GERARDINE, _disguised as a Porter_.[330]

GER. Thou sacred deity, Love! Thou power predominate, more to be admir’d Than able to be exprest, whose orb includes All terrene joys which are! all states which be Pay to thy sacred throne,[331] as tribute-fee, Their thoughts and lives. Like Jove’s, so must thy acts Endure no question: why, thy hidden facts The gods themselves obey: heaven-synod holds No gods but what thy awful power controls; The Delphian archer, proud with Python’s spoil, At Cupid’s hand was forc’d to take the foil; Not Mars his star-like[332] adamantine targe Could free his warlike breast at Cupid’s charge; And Jove, whose frown all mortal lives bereaves, His[333] marble throne and ivory sceptre leaves, And in the likeness of a bull was seen, As forc’d by him to bear the Tyrian queen Through Neptune’s watery kingdom: if these submit, My metamorphose is not held unfit.

And see, in most wished occasion, Dryfat the merchant presents himself.

_Enter_ DRYFAT.

Sir, in the best of hours met: my thoughts had marked you out for a man most apt to do them the fairest of offices. DRY. What! art thou a Welsh carrier or a northern landlord, thou’rt so saucy? GER. Is’t possible, sir, my disguise should so much fool your knowledge? How? a northern landlord? can you think I get my living by a bell and a clack-dish?[334] DRY. By a bell and a clack-dish? how’s that? GER. Why, by begging, sir. Know you me now? DRY. Master Gerardine, disguised and ashore! nay, then I smell a rat. GER. Master Dryfat, shall I repose some trust in you? will you lay by awhile your city’s precise humour? will you not deceive me? DRY. If I deceive your trust, the general plague seize me! that is, may I die a cuckold. GER. And I say thou shalt die a true citizen, if thou conceal it: and thus in brief. It stands with thy knowledge how seriously I have and do still affect Maria: now, sir, I have so wrought it, that if thou couldst procure me a fellow that could serve instead of a crier, I myself would play Placket the paritor,[335] and summon doctor Glister and Maria to appear at thy house: and as I play[336] the paritor, so wouldst thou but assume the shape of a proctor, I should have the wench, thou the credit, and the whole city occasion of discourse this nine days. DRY. How’s this, how’s this? I should procure a fellow to play the crier,[337] and I myself should play the proctor? but upon what occasion should they be summoned? GER. Upon an accusation that doctor Glister should get Maria, his niece, with child, and have bastards in the country, which I have a trick to make probable. DRY. And now I recall it to memory, I heard somewhat to that effect last night in master Beardbush the barber’s shop: but how will this sort? who shall accuse him? GER. Refer that to me, I say, be that my care: all shall end in merriment, and no disgrace touch either of their reputations. DRY. Then take both word and hand, ’tis done: Club, mistress Purge’s ’prentice, shall be the crier.[338] GER. O my most precious Dryfat! may none of thy daughters prove vessels with foul bungholes, or none of thy sons hogsheads, but all true and honourable Dryfats like thyself! DRY. Well, master Gerardine, I hope to see you a Familist before I die. GER. That’s most likely, for I hold most of their principles already: I never rail nor calumniate any man but in love and charity; I never cozen any man for any ill will I bear him, but in love and charity to myself; I never make my neighbour a cuckold for any hate or malice I bear him, but in love and charity to his wife. DRY. And may those principles fructify in your weak members! I’ll be gone, and with most quick dexterity provide you a crier: to-morrow at my house, said you, they should appear? GER. Be that the time, most honoured Dryfat: but be this known to none, most loved sir, save Club, or to some other whom your judgment shall select as a fit person for our project. DRY. Thus enough: time out of sight.[339] [_Exit._ GER. Maria, thou art mine: earth’s perfection[340] and nature’s glory, woman! of what an excellency if her thoughts and acts were squared and levelled with the first celsitude[341] of her creation! T’ enjoy a creature,—whose dishevell’d locks, Like gems against the repercussive sun, Give[342] light and splendour; whose star-like eyes Attract more gazer loves[343] to see them move Than the Titanian[344] god, when Ægeon’s hill ’A mounts in triumph; a skin more pure and soft Than is the silk-worm’s bed; teeth[345] more white Than new-fall’n snow or shining ivory,— Is happiness sought by the gods themselves. Celestial Venus, born without a mother, Be thou propitious! thee and I implore, Not vulgar Venus, heaven’s scorn and Mars his whore. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_A Room in_ GLISTER’S _House_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS GLISTER _and_ MARIA.

MAR. Good aunt, quiet yourself: ground not upon dreams; you know they are ever contrary. MIS. G. Minion, minion, coin no excuses: I grant dreams are deceitful, but a true judgment grounded upon knowledge never fails. What? have not I observed the rising and falling of the blood, the coming and going of the countenance, your qualms, your unlacings, your longings? most evident tokens; besides, a more certain sign than all these, too; you know’t, I need not speak it: nay, I am as skilful in that point as my husband; I can tell you, Aristotle speaks English enough to tell me these secrets. Body of me, so narrowly looked to, and yet fly out! Well, I see maids will ha’t in spite of laws or locks that restrain ’em; they will open, do men what they can. MAR. I see my fault appears: simplicity Hath no evasion; ’tis bootless to deny Where guilty blood, cited by touch of shame, Runs through my veins, and leaves my conscience’ stain Even in my face. Forbear, I do beseech you, To publish my defame: what I have done You shall not answer; I must bear mine own. MIS. G. Bear your own? ay, marry, there it goes! What must you bear? MAR. My sins, forsooth. MIS. G. Your sins, forsooth? Confess to me, and go not about the bush: you have been doing, that’s flat; you have caught a clap, that’s round; and answer me roundly to the point, or else I’ll square.[346] Come, whose act is’t? I cannot devise unless it be my husband’s, for none else had access to thee: I am sure time has turned his bald side to thee, and I do but wonder how thou tookst opportunity: speak, tell me. MAR. Now, good aunt, press me not; let time reveal What you suspect; for never shall my tongue Confess an act that tends unto my wrong.

_Enter_ GERARDINE, _disguised as a porter_.

MIS. G. Will you not bolt? I must ha’t out on you, and will. GER. By your leave, mistress—— MIS. G. Passion of my heart, what art thou? GER. No ghost, forsooth, though I appear in white. MIS. G. No, but a saucy knave, I perceive by your manners. GER. None of that livery neither: I am of the bearing trade, forsooth; you may see by my smock,—frock, I would say: I am, if it please you, of the spick and span new-set-up company of porters. Here’s my breastplate; and besides our own arms, we have the arms of the city to help us in our burdens—_ecce signum!_ here’s the cross and the sword of justice in good pewter, I can tell you, which goes as current with us as better metal. MIS. G. What’s your name, sir? GER. Nicholas Nebulo: there’s but a straw’s-breadth between that and the arms; ’tis in the backside of the cross here, and well known in the city for an ancient name and an honest, an’t like your worship. MIS. G.[347] You are none of the twelve, are you? GER. No, forsooth, but one of the twenty-four—— MIS. G. Orders of knaves:[348] I thought so. Sirrah, you’re a rascal, to come thus bluntly into my house with your dirty startups:[349] get you without doors, like a filthy fellow as you are; a place more fit for you. GER. O, good words, mistress! I may be warden of my company for aught you know; and for my bluntness, we have a clause in our charter to warrant that; for as we bear, so likewise we may be borne with, and have free egress and regress where our business lies. MIS. G. And what’s your business here? GER. I have a letter, an’t please you, to master doctor. MIS. G. From whence? [_Taking the letter._ GER. That I cannot shew your worship; but I had it of Curtal the carrier, whose lawful deputy I am. MIS. G. Leave your scraping, sirrah. Fie, how rank the knave smells of grease and taps-droppings! [GERARDINE _coughs and spits_.] What, are you rheumatic too, with a vengeance! GER. Yes, indeed, mistress; though I be but a poor man, I have a spice of the gentleman in me: master doctor could smell it quickly, because he’s a gentleman himself: I must to the diet, and that is tobacco at the ale-house; I use n’other physic for it. MIS. G. Did ever such a peasant defile my floor, or breathe so near me!—I’faith, sirrah, you would be bummed for your roguery, if you were well served. GER. I am bummed well enough already, mistress; look here else: sir-reverence[350] in your worship, master doctor’s lips are not made of better stuff. MIS. G. What an impudent rogue is this!—Sirrah, begone, I say; I would be rid o’ you. GER. Be rid o’ me? I shall gallop then: you mistake me, forsooth; I am a foot post, I do not use to ride. MIS. G. I think the rascal be humorous or drunk. Well, I will read the letter, and send him packing, or else he will spew or do worse before me: fie on him, I think he will infect me with some filthy disease. [_Reads the letter._ GER. Or else I lose mine aim. [_Aside._ MIS. G. What’s here? [_Reads_] _Your poor nurse, Thomasine Tweedles!_[351] for my life now shall I find out my husband’s knavery I have so long suspected. GER. She begins to nibble; ’twill take, i’faith. [_Aside._ Mistress, I see some discontentment in your looks: Care ill befits so delicate a spirit; Be frolic, wench, for he that is so near thee Has been much nearer. MAR. That accent sounds sweet music; ’tis my love! That tongue breathes life into my lifeless spirits: Gerardine? O rapture! why thus disguis’d? GER. No more, be mute; thus must I vary forms To bring our cares to end: her jealousy Ensues this drift, which, if it take true scope, Love’s joy comes next: be fearless in that hope. MIS. G. ’Tis so: rats-bane! I ha’t: it racks on, it torments me! here ’tis: [_reads_] _Woe worth the time that ever I gave suck to a child that came in at the window, God knows how!_—Villanous lecher!—_yet, if you did but see how like the pert[352] little red-headed knave is to his father_—damnable doctor! a bastard in the country, and another towards[353] here! I am out of doubt this is his work.—You are an arrant strumpet!— Incest, fornication, abomination in my own house! intolerable! O for long nails to scratch out his eyes! GER. Or the breeches, to fight with him. MIS. G. Out of my sight, quean! thou shalt to Bridewell.—O, I shall be mad with rage! GER. Then you shall go to Bedlam. MIS. G. Hence, you slave! GER. I must have a penny; you must pay me for my pains. MIS. G. The devil pay thee! GER. O, that’s the doctor; but he wants his horns. MIS. G. But I’ll furnish him ere long, if I live. GER. It works as I would wish. [_Aside._]—Farewell, Maria; This storm once past, fair weather ever after! [_Exit._ MIS. G. Was ever woman so moved!—but you shall be talked withal: and for mine old fornicator, he shall ha’t as hot as coals, i’faith: here’s stuff indeed! Come, minx, come: there’s law for you both: have I found your knavery? If I wink at this, let me be stone blind, or stoned to death: bear this, and bear all! [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_A Street._

_Enter_ LIPSALVE, GUDGEON, SHRIMP, _and_ PERIWINKLE.

LIP. Our hopes are cross’d: sure there’s some providence Which countermands libidinous appetites, For what we most intend is counter-check’d By strange and unexpected accidents; For by disguise procuring full access, Nay, ready to have seiz’d[354] th’ expected prize, The candle out, steps ’twix my hopes and me Some peasant groom,[355] possess’d and full enjoy’d That sweet for which our vigilant eyes have watch’d, And in one moment frustrates all our hopes. GUD. Upon my life, we are bewitched. The greasy rascal that first seized mistress Purge, by the last reflection of the light, appeared to my sight not much unlike her husband. LIP. The court’s gall, the city’s plague, and Europa’s sea-form[356] be his perpetual crest, what-e’er ’a was! To lose mistress Purge for lack of dexterity, is a disgrace insalveable: the like opportunity will never present itself. GUD. ’Twas an egregious grief, I must confess, to see a knave slip betwixt us both and take occasion by the foretop: but since these projects have had so star-cross events, let’s lay some plot how to revenge our late disgrace on the doctor by making him cuckold.

_Enter_ PURGE.

LIP. Agreed: but what melancholy sir, with acrostic[357] arms, now comes from the Family? GUD. Purge the ’pothecary: I prithee, let’s step aside and hear the issue of this discontent. [_They retire with the two pages._ PUR. O the misery of married men’s estate! LIP. ’A begins very pitifully. [_Aside._ PUR. O women, what are many of you! LIP. Why, disease[s] to bachelors, and plagues to married men. [_Aside._ PUR. O marriage, the rage of all our miseries! my wife is a dissembling strumpet. GUD. So is many a man’s besides yours; and what of that? [_Aside._ PUR. I would have a law, that all such which pray little should instantly be married; for then would they pray continually, if it were but to be rid of their wives. LIP. This is a charitable request, and surely would pass the Lower-house. [_Aside._ PUR. Surely if affliction can bring a man to heaven, I cannot see how any married man can be damned: I have made myself a plain cuckold. GUD. A pile[358] on ye, won’t you! had you not been so manable,[359] here are some would have saved you that labour. [_Aside._ PUR. What shall I do in this extremity? had I but witness of the fact, I would make her answer it before authority. This is my wedding-ring; ’tis it, I know it by the posy: this I took from her finger in the dark, and she was therewith very well pleased: were not this, trow,[360] a sufficient testimony? she knows not that it was myself got so near her: I will take counsel. Well, little know bachelors the miseries they undergo when they prostrate themselves to women. LIP. [_coming forward with_ GUDGEON] O most true, master Purge! little knows a man what elements ’a is to pass, when ’a puts his head under a woman’s girdle. Your passion,[361] master Purge, is overheard, and, plain tale to tell, we were eye-witnesses of your wife’s treachery, and if need be, will be ready to depose as much. PUR. What, master Lipsalve and master Gudgeon, are you disguised testimonies? Nay, then, revenge, look big! Elf and fairy, Help to revenge the wronged ’pothecary! GUD. Why, now ’a speaks like himself: get me a paritor[362] for her straight. LIP. Conceal the ring, my little Purge; let not thy wife know thou hast it, until she comes to her trial.

_Enter_ DRYFAT, _and_ GERARDINE _disguised as an apparitor_.

PUR. Your advices are very pithy; therefore in private let me disclose my intent. GUD. Off,[363] boys! [PURGE, LIPSALVE, _and_ GUDGEON _retire_. SHR. What dost thou think of thy master? is ’a not a rare gull? PER. I think ’a will swallow and pocket more disgraces than large-conscienced lawyer fees in a Michaelmas term. Thy master, my honest Shrimp,[364] comes not much short of a fool too, but that ’a is a courtier. SHR. Draw somewhat near, and overhear their conference. [_Retires with_ PERIWINKLE. GER. This shape of the crier must Club to-morrow assume. Are you fitted for Poppin the proctor? DRY. Excellent, and have spent some study in the mystical cases of venery: I can describe how often a man may lie with another man’s wife before ’a come to the white sheet. GER. How long is that? DRY. Why, till ’a be taken tardy:—how long all womenkind may, by the statute, profess and swear they are maids. GER. And how long is that? DRY. Why, till their bellies be so big that it cannot be no longer concealed: but come forward towards Glister’s. LIP. It must be so; let the sumner[365] tickle her: you shall bring in these allegations, and let us alone to swear them.—[_Advancing with_ PURGE _and_ GUDGEON.] Who’s this? master Dryfat? opportunely met, sir: and whither so fast? the news, the news? DRY. Faith, gentlemen, I think to relate for news what I hear of doctor Glister would come stale to your hearings. LIP. O, the getting of his niece with child: tut, that’s apparently known to all the company.—But, in the name of Jupiter, what art thou, or from whence camest thou? GER. Why, sir, I come from compassing the corners of the land. GUD. Of what trade, in the name of Pluto? GER. Of the devil’s trade; for I live, as he does, by the sins of the people; in brief, sir, I am Placket the paritor.[366] LIP. As the devil would!—We have, my noble paritor, instant employment for thee; a grey groat is to be purchased without sneaking, my little sumner: where’s thy _quorum nomina_, my honest Placket? GER. Sir, according to the old ballad, _My_ quorum nomina _ready have I, With my pen and inkhorn hanging by_. Her name, sir, her name? GUD. Is’t no more but so? PUR. I have most right to her name.—Her name, master Placket, is my wife, mistress Purge, sir: to what place dost thou belong? GER. To the commissioners which sit to-morrow at master Dryfat’s upon the crimes of doctor Glister and others. LIP. Sits there a commission, Dryfat? now, for the love of lechery, let’s have mistress Purge summoned thither. GER. She makes my _quorum nomina_ reasonable full: my grant, sir, and she shall appear there upon a crime of concupiscence: is not that your meaning? PUR. Yes, my honest paritor: here’s thy fee. [_Giving money._

_Enter_ MISTRESS PURGE _and_ CLUB.

GUD. And see how happily it succeeds! mistress Purge is new come from the Family. Let us step aside, while Placket the paritor gives her a summons. LIP. Content.—To her, Placket; but see, for the bribery of twelvepence, you strike her not out of your _quorum nomina_. GER. Fear not, sir. [LIPSALVE, GUDGEON, PURGE, _and_ DRYFAT _retire_. MIS. P. Forward apace, Club. GER. Your name I take to be mistress Purge, fair gentlewoman? MIS. P. I am mistress Purge, Purge’s wife the ’pothecary: what of that? DRY. Now you shall see him tickle her with a _quorum nomina_. [_Aside._ GER. I cite you, by virtue of my _quorum nomina_, to make your personal appearance by eight of the clock in the morrow morning, before certain commissioners at master Dryfat’s house, to answer to an accusation of a crime of concupiscence. MIS. P. To answer a crime of concupiscence? what’s that, I pray? GER. Why, ’tis to answer a venereal crime, for having carnal copulation with others besides your husband. MIS. P. What are you, I pray? GER. By name Placket, by trade a paritor. MIS. P. And must I answer, say you, to a venereal crime? I tell thee, Placket the paritor, I am able to answer thee or any man else in any venereal crime they’ll put me to; and so tell your commissioners. GER. If you fail your appearance, the penalty must fall heavy. MIS. P. If it fall never so heavy, I am able to bear it:—and so set forward, Club. [_Exit with_ CLUB. LIP. [_coming forward with the others_] Excellent, i’faith!—After your wife, Purge.—Read, Placket, thy _quorum nomina_, my noble groat-monger. [_Exit_ PURGE. GER. Silence! The first that marcheth in this fair rank is Thrum[367] the feltmaker, for getting his maid with child, and sending his ’prentice to Bridewell for the fact; Whip the beadle, for letting a punk escape for a night’s lodging and bribe of ten groats; Bat the bellman, for lying with a wench in a tailor’s stall at midnight, when ’a should be performing his office; and Tipple[368] the tapster, for deflowering a virgin in his cellar; doctor Glister, his wife, Maria, mistress Purge: these be the complete number. LIP. Now dissolve, and each to his occasion till to-morrow morning. [_Exeunt severally._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_A Room in_ GLISTER’S _House_.

_Enter_ GLISTER _and_ MISTRESS GLISTER.

MIS. G. This was your colour[369] to keep her close; but what cloak ha’ you for her’s and your own shame? What, your own niece, your brother’s daughter, besides your bastard in the country!

GLI. Wife, range not too far, I would advise you; come home in time: vex me not beyond sufferance; the two-edged sword of thy tongue hath drawn blood o’ me. Patience, I say: thou art all this while in an error. MIS. G. No, thou hast been all this while in an urinal; thou hast gone out of thy compass in women’s waters: you’re a conjuror, forsooth, and can rouse your spirits into circles. Ah, you old fornicator, that ever I saw that red beard of thine! now could I rail against thy complexion: I think, in my conscience, the traces and caparison of Venus’ coach are made o’ red hairs; which may be a true emblem that no flaxen stuff or tanned white leather draws love like ’em: I think thou manuredest thy chin with the droppings of eggs and muskadine before it bristled. A shame take thee and thy loadstone! But ’tis no matter; master Placket the paritor[370] has cited you, and you shall answer it. GLI. O the raging jealousy of a woman! Do you hear, wife? I will shew myself a man of sense, and answer you with silence; or like a man of wisdom, speak in brief: I say you are a scold, and beware the cucking-stool.[371] [_Exit._ MIS. G. I say you are a ninnihammer, and beware the cuckoo; for as sure as I have ware, I’ll traffic with the next merchant venturer: and in good time here come[372] gallants of the right trade.

_Enter_ LIPSALVE _and_ GUDGEON, _and_ GLISTER _behind watching them_.

LIP. All alone, mistress Glister? meditating who shall be your next child’s father? GUD. Indeed, methinks, that should be one end of her thought, an’t be but to cry quittance with her husband, of whose abuse the town rings. GLI. Flax and fire, flax and fire! here are fellows come in the nick, to light their matches at my tinder. [_Aside._ LIP. He tells you true, mistress Glister: the doctor hath made you ordinary in our ordinaries; satires whet their tooths, and steep rods in piss, epigrams lie in poetry’s pickle, and we shall have rhyme out of all reason against you. GUD. Ere long he will take up his station at a stationer’s, where we shall see him do penance in a sheet at least. MIS. G. O, I am nettled! my patience is so provoked, that I must doff my modesty: what shall I do? if ye be honest gentlemen, counsel me in my revenge, teach me what to do, make my case your own. LIP. Why, you are in the common road of revenge: take which hand you will, you cannot go out o’ your way; ’tis as soon taken as time by his forepart. GUD. Faith, since he has strook with the sword, strike you with the scabbard; in plain terms, cuckold him: you may as easily do’t as lie down o’ your bed. GLI. This gear cottens,[373] i’faith. [_Aside._ MIS. G. I apprehend you, gentlemen. Lord, how much better are two heads than one to make one large head! LIP. You say true, mistress Glister: there’s help required in grafting; and how happily we come to tender our service! Let our pretence be to take physic of the doctor; and that he may with as much ease minister to us as we to you, we’ll take a lodging in his house. GUD. How say you to this? is the colour[374] good? does’t like[375] you? MIS. G. Passing well: the colour is so good, that you shall wear my favour out o’ the same piece. LIP. Excellent, excellent!—Now shall we be revenged for the whipping.—Mistress Glister, let me be your first man. GUD. Nay, soft, sir, I plied her as soon as you. GLI. I should have an oar in her boat too by right. _Aside._ LIP. How ill-advised were you to marry one with a red beard! MIS. G. O master Lipsalve, I am not the first that has fallen under that ensign! there’s no complexion more attractive in this time for women than gold and red beards: such men are all liver.[376] GUD. Ay, but small heart, and less honesty. LIP. Yes, they are honest too in some kind, for they’ll beg before they’ll steal. GUD. That’s true; for, for one that holds up his hand at the sessions, you shall have ten come into the bawdy court. GLI. Was ever beard so back-bitten? this were enough to make red beards turn medley, and dash ’em clean out of countenance; but I hope, like mine, they fear no colours. And[377] you were ten courtiers, I’ll front you: I must give you physic, with a pox! well, if I pepper ye not, call me doctor Doddipoll.[378] [_Aside._]—Master Lipsalve and master Gudgeon, you are heartily welcome; I am very glad to see you well. LIP. O master doctor, your salutation is very suspicious! GLI. Why, master Lipsalve? LIP. It can scarce be hearty, for physicians are rather glad to see men ill than well. GLI. Not so, sir; you must distinguish of men; though this I know, virtue is not the end of all science, which commonly keeps the professor poor; some study questuary[379] and gainful arts, and every one would thrive in’s calling: but, i’faith, gentlemen, what wind drives you hither? GUD. The wind-colic, master doctor, or some such disease. GLI. But not the stone-colic? LIP. O no, sir, we have no obstructions in those parts; we are loose enough there. GLI. If you were troubled with that, my wife can tell you of an excellent remedy. GUD. We need it not, we need it not: but indeed, master doctor, for some private infirmities (which our waters shall make known to you), we desire to take some physic of you for a few days; and to that end we would take a lodging in your house during the time. LIP. Shall we entreat your favour? GLI. No entreaty, gentlemen; you shall command me to search the very profundity of my skill for you.—Have them in, wife, and shew them their lodging.—I will think upon another receipt, and follow you immediately. GUD. And, i’faith, we shall requite your pains to the full. [_Exeunt_ MIS. GLISTER, LIPSALVE, _and_ GUDGEON. GLI. To the fool, you mean: I know you ha’ the horn of plenty for me, which you would derive unto me from the liberality of your bawdies,[380] not your minds. Here are lords that, having learned the O P Q of courtship, travel up and down among citizens’ wives, to shew their learning and bringing up; as if the city were not already a good proficient in the court horn-book: yes, I warrant, they have heads as capable as other men; ay, and some of them can wisely say with the philosopher, that in knowing all, they know nothing. Well, because I am of the livery, and pay scot and lot amongst you, do but observe how I’ll fetch over my gallants for your sakes. They say I am of the right hair; and, indeed, they may stand to’t, and hold the position good, saving with my wife.—Soft; are they not at _pro_ and _contra_ already? I know they are hot-spurs, and I must have an eye to the main. They have been whipt already for lechery, and yet the pride of the flesh pricks ’em. Well, I must in: I’ve[381] given them such a pill Shall take ’em down; for lust must have his fill. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_Another Room in_ GLISTER’S _House_.

_Enter_ MARIA _above_.[382]

MAR. Now nature’s pencil and the hand of time Give[383] life and limb to generation’s act, My shame and guilt in wordless notes appear, The argument of scorn. O now I stand The theme and comment to each liberal[384] tongue, Whilst hope breeds comfort, and fear threats my wrong! O Gerardine, how oft thy lively figure, Deeply[385] impressed in my yielding temper, Assures me thou art mine! how fancy paints Thy true proportion in my troubled sleep, Because sole subject of my daily thoughts! O, if thy vows prove feign’d and thou unjust, I say and swear in men there is no trust!

_Enter_ GERARDINE.

GER. Thus have I past the round[386] and court of guard, Without the word:[387] either conceit is strong, Or else the body where true love’s confin’d Walks as a spirit and doth force his way Through greatest dangers, frightful to those eyes That wait to intercept him.—Maria? How like to Cynthia, in her silver orb, She seems to me, attended by love’s lamp, Whose mutual influence and soul’s sympathy Do[388] shew heaven’s model in mortality. MAR. Gerardine? Aurora, now the blushing sun approaches,[389] Dart[s] not more comfort to this universe Than thou to me: most acceptably come! The art of number cannot count the hours Thou hast been absent. GER. Infinity of love Holds no proportion with arithmetic. Think not, Maria, but my heart retains A deep impression of such thoughts as these. I have been forging of a mirthful plot To celebrate our wish’d conjunction, Which now digested, come to summon thee To be an actress in the comedy. MAR. How, where, when? speak, mine ears are quick to hear; I stand on thorns already to be there. GER. At Dryfat’s house, the merchant, there’s our scene, Whose sequel, if I fail not in intent, Shall answer our desires and each content. But when sawest thou Lipsalve and Gudgeon, our two gallants? MAR. They are here in the house, so handled by mine uncle, that they are the pitifullest patients that ever you beheld. GER. No matter, he serves them in their kind: they were infamous in the court, and now are grown as notorious in the city: they may happily prove particles in our sport, and fit subjects for laughter.

Time calls me hence: adieu; prepare to meet. MAR. I shall outstrip the nimblest in my feet. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE III.

_A Room in_ DRYFAT’S _House_.

_Enter_ DRYFAT _disguised as a proctor, and_ CLUB _as a crier_.

DRY. Come, Club, come, there’s a merry fray towards;[390] we shall see the death of melancholy; wherein thou and I must call a grand jury of jests together, and pass upon them with the club law. CLUB. Now, as I am O the crier, and yet but a young club, I have not yet practised that law: you have a whole dryfat on’t; I pray you, instruct me. DRY. Why, ’tis a law enacted, by the common council of statute-caps,[391] to qualify the rage of the time, to follow, to call back, and sometimes to encounter gentlemen when they run in arrearages; I tell thee, there’s no averment against our book-cases. ’Tis the law called make-peace: it makes them even when they are at odds; it shews ’em a flat case as plain as a pack-staff, that is, knocks ’em down without circumstance. CLUB. Ay, marry, I like that law well; ’tis studied with the turning of a hand: there’s no quiddits nor pedlar’s French[392] in’t; there needs no book for th’ exposition o’ th’ terms; ’tis as easily learned as the felling of wood and getting of children; all is but laying on load the downright blow. DRY. Ay, and by the way of exhortation it prints this moral sentence on their costards,[393] in capital letters, _Agree, for the law is costly_. CLUB. Good, good: but all this while there’s no doctor thought on; we must have one to arbitrate. DRY. Why, master Gerardine, man, has his name for the purpose: he shall be called doctor Stickler: _lupus est in fabula_, here he comes.

_Enter_ GERARDINE.

GER. How now, lads? does our conceit cotten?[394] ha’ you summoned your wits from woolgathering? are you fraught with matter for this merriment? DRY. Full, full: we are in labour, man, and we shall die without midwifery. CLUB. We are ravished with delight, like the wench that was got with child against her stomach. O, but[395] if we could wrest this smock-law now in hand to our club-law, it were excellent! DRY. Easily, easily: all shall be called the club-law. GER. As how? DRY. Why, thus. Club is the crier; I am Poppin[396] the proctor; and you Stickler the doctor: he calls them to appear; I must be of their counsel, and you must attone them.[397] We may know their cases and be in their elements, mark you me, but they cannot be in ours. Tut, none knows our secrets: we can speak fustian above their understanding, and make asses’ ears attentive. I’ll play Ambidexter,[398] tell ’em ’tis a plain case, and put ’em down with the club-law; so that, as Club said well e’en now, our knavery is as near allied as felling of wood and getting of children. GER. Excellent, excellent! By this they are at hand: let’s bear these things like ourselves: I’ll withdraw and put on my habiliments, and then enter for the doctor. DRY. Do so: they come, they come. [_Exit_ GERARDINE.

_Enter_ GLISTER _and_ PURGE.

Welcome, master doctor Glister and master Purge: there’s a commission to be sat upon this day, to open a passage for imprisoned truth, concerning acts yet _in tenebris_. GLI. True; I am brought hither by the malice of my wife. PUR. And I have a just appeal against my wife. GLI. Master Poppin[399]—so I think you are called—I understand you have the law at your fingers’ ends. DRY. I can box cases, and scold and scratch it out amongst them. GLI. Indeed, fame reports you to be a good trumpeter of causes: I must retain you, sir, to sound mine. DRY. My sackbut shall do it most pathetically: tell me, in brief, the nature of your case. GLI. Faith, sir, a scandalous letter devised to wrong my reputation, about a bastard in the country which should be mine. DRY. About a bastard in the country which should be yours? hum,—’tis very like you then, it should seem. GLI. O no, sir! understand me, only fathered upon me. DRY. Only fathered upon you _cum nemini[400] obtrudi potest_: I understand you, and like you well too, you do not flatter yourself in your own case, no, ’tis not good: well, what more? GLI. And about my niece, got with child in my own house. DRY. Byrlady,[401] burdens of some weight, which you make light of! you deny? GLI. What else, sir? I have reason. DRY. I know it well, I take you for no beast: believe me, master doctor, denial and reason are two main grounds; stand upon them, and you cannot err.—Your case, master Purge? PUR. First take your fee, master Poppin,[402] that you may have the more feeling, and urge it home when you come to’t. [_Gives money._] Mine is a discovery of my wife’s iniquity at the Family of Love. DRY. Otherwise called the House of Venery, where they hunger and thirst for’t. PUR. True, sir: you have heard of the Hole in the Wall, where they assemble together in the daytime, like so many bees under a hive? DRY. Come home _crura thymo plena_, and lodge among hornets, is’t not so? PUR. I cannot tell, sir; but, for my part, I am much noted as I go. DRY. No doubt of that, sir; your wife can furnish you with notes out of her cotations.[403] CLUB. Ay, and give him a two-tagged point[404] to tie ’em together. DRY. But how came you to detect her? PUR. Why, thus, sir: getting the word, I dogged her to the Family, where, closing with her, I whispered so pleasing a tale in her ear, that I got from her her wedding-ring; and here ’tis. DRY. Well, out of that ring we will wring matter that shall carry meat i’ th’ mouth. But what witness or proof can you produce to make good your wife’s iniquity and your own cuckoldry? PUR. Master Lipsalve and master Gudgeon, who were her companions at that same time. DRY. Very good.—Are they cited in the _quorum nomina_? CLUB. They will be here, sir. GLI. If they be, they will bewray[405] all. DRY. So much the better; ’twill savour well for master Purge. PUR. You understand my case now? GLI. And mine too, sir? DRY. I do, I do: they are as different as a doctor and a dunce, a man and a beast: here’s the compendium; yours, master doctor, stands upon the negative; and yours, master Purge, upon the affirmative: _pauca sapienti_, I ha’t, I ha’t. PUR. Mine is very current, sir; I can shew you good guilt. DRY. Ay, marry, there spoke an angel;[406] gilt’s[407] current, indeed: let me feel’t, let me feel’t. PUR. I mean, my wife’s guilt. GLI. Master Poppin, you shall have innocence to speak for me. DRY. Tut, innocence is a fool, I care not for’s company; I can speak enough without him. GLI. Then, I hope, you will be as good to us as the five-finger at maw.[408]

DRY. No, rather as Hercules, to lip-labour ’em with the club-law: tut, let me alone.

_Enter_ MISTRESS GLISTER, MISTRESS PURGE, _and_ MARIA.

MIS. G. O, are you here, sir? I have brought you a full barn to glut your greedy appetite: if you have any maw, feed here till you choke again. Now shall I see the whole carcass of your knavery ript up: if thou hast any grace, now will thy red beard turn white upon’t. MIS. P. O how have I been toss’d from post to pillar In this libidinous world! The yoke I bear Is so uneven, as if an innocent lamb And a mad hare-brain’d ox should draw together: But I must have patience, there’s no remedy. DRY. There’s some difference between these two tempers. GLI. I would give a hundred pounds my wife had so gentle a spirit. [_Aside._ PUR. My wife must needs be gentle, for she can bear double. [_Aside._

_Re-enter_ GERARDINE, _disguised as a doctor_.

DRY. Here comes master doctor: now rig up your vessels, every one to his tackling. GER. Good day to all at once, and peace amongst you!— Fie, how I sweat! I think Vulcan ne’er toiled so at his anvil as I have done, and all to make maid’s water to slake Cupid’s fire, and to turn his shafts from the feather-bed to the bed-post, from the heart to the heel.— Come, master Poppin, shall we to this gear?[409] DRY. Reverend doctor, we have stayed your coming.—Crier, cry silence. CLUB. Silence![410] DRY. Master doctor, I have heard in general terms the tales of master doctor Glister and master Purge, which have in mutual manner jumped into the quagmire of my mind; out of which quagmire, by your enforcement and mine own duty, I pluck them up by the ears, and thus, in naked apparance,[411] I present them. GER. _Ad rem, ad rem_, master Poppin; leave your allegories, your metaphors, and circumlocutions, and to the point. DRY. Then briefly thus: I have compared their tales,—how short they will come of their wives’ I know not: and first for mistress Purge.—Crier, call mistress Purge. CLUB. Rebecca Purge, wife to Peter Purge, ’pothecary, appear upon thy purgation, upon pain of excommunication. MIS. P. Here I am,—O time’s impiety!— Hither I come from out the harmless fold To have my good name eaten up by wolves: See, how they grin! Well, the weak must to the wall; I must bear wrong, but shame shall them befall. GER. Who is her accuser? DRY. Her own husband, upon the late discovery of a crew of narrow-ruffed,[412] strait-laced, yet loose-bodied dames, with a rout[413] of omnium-gatherums, assembled by the title of the Family of Love: which, master doctor, if they be not punished and suppressed by our club-law, each man’s copyhold will become freehold, specialities will turn to generalities, and so from unity to parity, from parity to plurality, and from plurality to universality; their wives, the only ornaments of their houses, and of all their wares, goods, and chattel[s], the chief moveables, will be made common. PUR. Most voluble and eloquent proctor! GER. Byrlady,[414] these enormities must and shall be redressed, otherwise I see their charter will be infringed, and their ancient staff of government the club, from whence we derive our law of castigation,—this club, I say (they seeming nothing less than men by their fore-part), will be turned upon their own heads.—Speak, Rebecca Purge; art thou one of this Family? hast thou ever known the body of any man there or elsewhere concupiscentically? MIS. P. No, master doctor, those are but devices of the wicked to trap the innocent; but I thank my spirit I have fear before my eyes, which my husband sees not, because something hangs in’s light. PUR. That’s my horns; she flouts me to my face, and I will not endure it: I shall carry her mark to my grave. [_Aside._]—Master doctor, she has given me that, that Æsculapius, were he now extant, could not heal, nor _edax rerum_[415] take away. GER. Produce your witness, master Purge, and blow not your own horn. PUR. Master Lipsalve and master Gudgeon, let them be called. CLUB. Lawrence Lipsalve and Gregory Gudgeon, late of _hic et ubique_, in the county of _nusquam_, gentlemen, come into the court and give your evidence, upon pain of that which shall ensue.

_Enter_ LIPSALVE _and_ GUDGEON. GLI. Here they come, in pain I warrant them.—How works your physic, gallants? do you go well to the ground? now cuckold the doctor!—Wife, who’s your first man now?—now strike[416] with the scabbard! ha, ha, ha! GUD. A villanous doctor! LIP. Mountebank, you’re a rascal, and we will cast about[417] to be revenged. DRY. Cast about this way and bewray[418] what you can concerning mistress Purge, who stands here upon her purgation, either to prove mundified or contaminated, according to the tenor-piece of your principal evidence.—First give ’em the book. CLUB. Come, lay your hands upon the book: you shall speak and aver no more, nor wade no farther into the cream-pots of this woman’s crime, than the naked truth and the cart-rope of your conscience shall conduct you, so help you the contents! Kiss the book.[419] LIP. Alas, we are not in case to answer largely! but if you will have our evidence in brief, I think I kissed her at the Family some three times, once at coming, once at going, and once in the midst; otherwise never knew her dishonestly. PUR. Ay, mark that middle kiss, master doctor. GUD. And for my part, I have been more mortified by her than ever I was provoked. GER. How say you to this, master Purge? your witness is weak, and, sir-reverence[420] on[’t], without sounder proof, they may depart to the close-stool whence they came, and you to your ’pothecary’s shop. PUR. No, master doctor, I have another bolt to shoot that shall strike her dead; she shall not have a word to say. DRY. Answer me to this, mistress Purge; where’s your wedding-ring? MIS. P. My wedding-ring? why, what should I do with unnecessary things about me, when the poor begs at my gate ready to starve? Is it not better, as I learned last lecture, to send my substance before me, where I may find it, than to leave it behind me, where I must forego it? Yes, verily: wherefore, to put you out of doubt, I have given that ring to charitable uses. DRY. Nay, now she falters: my client can shew that ring, got from her at the Family, when these two courtling[s] had at the same time beleaguered her fort. GER. This alters the case clean.—What starting-hole ha’ you now, mistress Purge? MIS. P. E’en the sanctuary of a safe conscience: now, truly, truly, however he came by that ring, by my sisterhood, I gave it to the relief of the distressed Geneva. PUR. How? to the relief of the distressed Geneva?— Justice, master doctor! I may now decline _victus_, _victa_, _victum_; one word more shall overthrow her. I myself was a Familist that day, who, more jealous than zealous in devotion, thrust in amongst the rest (as I had most right), on purpose to sound her, to find out the knavery: short tale to make, I got her ring, and here it is; let her deny it if she can: and what more I discovered _non est nunc narrandi locus_. MIS. P. Husband, I see you are hoodwinked in the right use of feeling and knowledge,—as if I knew you not[421] then as well as the child knows his own father! Look in the posy of my ring: does it not tell you that we two are one flesh? and hath not fellow-feeling taught us to know one another as well by night as by day? Husband, husband, will you do as the blind jade, break your neck down a hill because you see it not? ha’ you no light of nature in that flesh of yours?—Now, as true as I live, master doctor, I had a secret operation, and I knew him then to be my husband e’en by very instinct. PUR. Impudence, dost not blush? art not ashamed to lie so abominable? MIS. P. No, husband, rather be you ashamed of your own weakness; for, for my part, I neither fear nor shame what man can do unto me. GER. Master Purge, I see you have spent your pith; therefore best make a full point at the ring, and attend our pleasure.—Master Poppin,[422] proceed to the rest. DRY. Crier, call doctor Glister. CLUB. Doctor Glister, alias suppositor doctor[423] of physic, appear upon thy purgation, upon the belly-pain that may ensue thereon.[424] GLI. Here, master doctor. GER. Who is his accuser? DRY. His clamorous wife, who seems to enforce a separation about a bastard in the country, which should be his, only fathered upon him. GER. What proof of that? MIS. G. Proof unanswerable, master doctor, the nurse’s letter: let it be read; but first observe his countenance; it may be his blushing will bewray his guilt. GER. Now, by this light, I thought it had indeed, but I see ’tis but the reflection of his beard.—Read the letter, master Poppin.[425] DRY.[426] [_reads_] _After my hearty commendations remembered unto your worshipful doctorship, trusting in God that you are as well as I was at the making hereof, thanks be to him therefor! the cause of my writing unto you at this time is to let you understand that your little son is turned a ragged colt, a very stripling; for, being now stript of all his clothing, his backside wants a tail-piece, commends itself to your fatherly consideration. Woe worth the time that ever I gave suck to a child that came in at the window, God knows how! Yet if you did but see how like the pert, little, red-headed knave is to his father, and how like a cock-sparrow he mouses and touses my little Bess already, you would take him for your own, and pay me my hire. I write not of the want of one thing, for I want all things; wherefore take some speedy order, or else as naked as he came from the mother will I send him to the father. From Pis.[427] the xxii of —— Your poor nurse_, THOMASINE TWEEDLES. GLI. Master doctor, truth needs not the foil of rhetoric; I will only in _monosyllaba_ answer for myself (as sometimes a wise man did): such and such things are laid to my charge, which I deny; you may think of me what you please, but I am as innocent in this as the child new-born. GER. Why, there’s partly a confession: the child, we know, is innocent, and not new-born neither, for it should seem by the letter he is able to call his dad knave. GLI. You take me wrong, master doctor.[428] DRY. Under correction, thus much can I say for my client’s justification. Indeed he hath travelled well in the beating of pulses, and hath been much conversant in women’s Jordans; but he had ever a care to raise his patient being before cast down: his charitable disposition hath been such to poor folk, that he never took above fourpence for the casting of a water, which good custom was so well known among all his patients, that if sixpence were at any time offered him, they might be bold to ask and have twopence again. He hath been so skilful and painful withal in the cure of the green sickness, that, of my knowledge, he hath risen at all hours in the night to pleasure maids that have had it: and for that foul-mouthed disease, termed by a fine phrase—a pox on’t, what d’ye call’t? O, the grincomes[429]—at that he hath played his doctor’s prize, and writes _nil ultra_ to all mountebanks; so that the wise woman in Pissing-Alley, nor she in Do-little-Lane, are more famous for good deeds than he. Then, master doctor, out of these presumptions, besides his flat denial (a more infallible ground), you may gather his innocence, and let him have his purgation. GER. No, master Poppin,[430] it is not so to be foisted off. MIS. G. Nay, master doctor, what say you to his own niece, that looks big upon him? an arrow that sticks for the upshot against all comers; which by his restraint of her from master Gerardine, an honest gentleman that loved her, and upon that colour[431] from the sight and intercourse of other men, must, by all presumptions, be his own act. GER. O monstrous! this is a foul blot in your tables[432] indeed. GLI. Wife, thou hast no shame nor womanhood in thee; thy conscience knows me. MIS. G. True of thy flesh, who knows not that? thy beard speaks for thee: ay, ay, thou liest by me like a stone, but abroad thou’rt like a stone-horse, you old limb-lifter![433] DRY. Cease your clamour, and attend my speech.—Most worshipful, reverend, and judicial doctor, for the quickening of your memory, I will give you a breviat of all that hath been spoken. Master doctor Glister hath a cradleful and a bellyful, you see, thrust upon him; and master Purge a headful.—Your wife is an angry honeyless wasp, whose sting, I hope, you need not fear,—and yours carries honey in her mouth, but her sting makes your forehead swell:—your wife makes you deaf with the shrill treble of her tongue,—and yours makes you horn-mad with the tenor of her tale.—In fine, master doctor’s refuge is his conscience, and master Purge runs at his wife’s ring.[434] GER. _Summa totalis_, a good audit ha’ you made, master Poppin.[435]—Now attend my arbitrement. For you, gallants, though you have incurred the danger of the law by using counterfeit keys, and putting your hands into the wrong pocket, yet because I see you punished and purged already, my advice is, that you learn the A B C of better manners: go back and tell how you have been used in the city; and being thus scoured, keep yourselves clean, and the bed undefiled.—For you, master Purge, because I see your evidence insufficient, and indeed too weak, to foil your wife’s uprightness, and seeing jealousy and unkindness have[436] only made her a stranger in your land of Ham, my counsel is, that you readvance your standard, give her new press-money. PUR. You may enjoin me, sir, but—— GER. But not at me, man: I will enjoin you, and conjoin you, and briefly thus. You have your ring that has made this combustion and uproar: that keep still; wear it; and here, by my edict, be it proclaimed to all that are jealous, to wear their wives’ ring[s] still on their fingers, as best for their security, and the only charm against cuckoldry. PUR. Then, wife, at master doctor’s enjoinment,[437] so thou wilt promise me to come no more at the Family, I receive thee into the lists of my favour. MIS. P. Truly, husband, my love must be free still to God’s creatures: yea, nevertheless, preserving you still as the head of my body, I will do as the spirit shall enable me. GER. Go to, thou hast a good wife, and there[’s] an end.—Upon you, master doctor, being solicited by so apparent proof, I can do no less than pronounce a severe sentence; and yet, i’faith, the reverence of your calling and profession doth somewhat check my austerity: what if master Gerardine, by my persuasion, would yet be induced to take your niece, and father the child? would you launch with a thousand pound, besides her father’s portion? GLI. Master doctor, I would, were it but to redeem her lost good name. GER. Then, foreknowing what would happen, I thought good, in master Gerardine’s name, to have this bond ready, which if you seal to, he shall take her with all faults. GLI. That will I instantly. [_Seals the bond._] So, this is done; which, together with my niece, do I deliver by these presents to the use of master Gerardine. GER. He thanks you heartily, and lets you know, [GERARDINE, DRYFAT, _and_ CLUB _discover themselves_. That Indian mines and Tagus’ glistering ore To this bequest were unto me but poor. GLI. What? Gerardine, Dryfat, and Club! DRY. The very[438] same. CLUB. You are welcome to our club-law. GER. Cease admiration here: what doubt remains I’ll satisfy at full. Now join with me For approbation of our Family.

EPILOGUE.[439]

Gentles, whose favour[s] have o’erspread this place, And shed the real influence of grace On harmless mirth, we thank you; for our hope Attracts such vigour and unmeasur’d scope From the reflecting splendour of your eyes, That, grace presum’d, fear in oblivion dies. Your judgment, as it is the touch[440] and trier Of good from bad, so from your hearts comes fire, That gives both ardour to the wit refin’d, And sweetness [to] th’ incense of each willing mind. O may that fire ne’er die! nor let your favours Depart from us: give countenance to their labours Propos’d a sacrifice, which may no less Their strong desires than our true zeals express. [_Exeunt omnes._

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YOUR FIVE GALLANTS.

_Your fiue Gallants. As it hath beene often in Action at the Black-friers. Written by T. Middleton. Imprinted at London for Richard Bonian, dwelling at the signe of the Spred-Eagle, right ouer-against the great North dore of Saint Paules Church._ n. d. 4to.

_Fyve Wittie Gallants_ was licensed by Sir George Bucke, 22d March 1607-8: see Chalmers’s _Suppl. Apol._, p. 202.

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

FRIPPERY, _the broker-gallant_. PRIMERO, _the bawd-gallant_. GOLDSTONE, _the cheating-gallant_. PURSENET, _the pocket-gallant_. TAILBY, _the whore-gallant_. FITSGRAVE, _a gentleman_. BUNGLER, _cousin to_ MISTRESS NEWCUT. PYAMONT. ARTHUR, _servant to_ FRIPPERY. FULK, _servant to_ GOLDSTONE. _Boy_, _servant to_ PURSENET. JACK, _servant to_ TAILBY. MARMADUKE, _servant to_ MISTRESS NEWCUT. _Gentlemen_, _Tailor_, _Painter_, _&c._

KATHERINE, _a wealthy orphan_. MISTRESS NEWCUT, _a merchant’s wife_. _Novice._ _Courtesans._

Scene, LONDON, except during part of the third act, which is laid in Combe-Park and its neighbourhood.

YOUR FIVE GALLANTS.

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_Presenter, or Prologue,[441] passing over the stage; the bawd-gallant_ [PRIMERO], _with three wenches gallantly attired, meets him; the whore-gallant_ [TAILBY], _the pocket-gallant_ [PURSENET], _the cheating-gallant_ [GOLDSTONE], _kiss these three wenches, and depart in a little whisper and wanton action. Now, for the other, the broker-gallant_ [FRIPPERY], _he sits at home yet, I warrant you, at this time of day, summing up his pawns_. Hactenus quasi inductio, _a little glimpse giving_.

ACT I. SCENE I.

_A Room in_ FRIPPERY’S _House_. FRIPPERY _discovered[442] summing up his pawns, one fellow standing by him_.

_Enter_ ARTHUR _and a second fellow_.

AR. Is your pawn good and sound, sir? SEC. F. I’ll pawn my life for that, sir. AR. Place yourself there then; I will seek to prefer it presently. My master is very jealous[443] of the pestilence; marry, the pox sits at meat and meal with him. [_Second fellow retires._ FRI. [_reading_] _Lent the fifth day of September to mistress Onset upon her gown_, [_and_] _taffeta petticoat with three broad silver laces, three pound fifteen shillings_. _Lent to Justice Cropshin upon both his velvet jackets five pound ten shillings._ _Lent privately to my Lady Newcut upon her gilt casting-bottle[444] and her silver lie-pot fifty-five shillings._ AR. Sir—— FRI. [_reads_] _Lent to Sir Oliver Needy upon his taffeta cloak, beaver hat, and perfumed leather-jerkin, six pound five shillings._ AR. May it please your worship—— FRI. [_reads_] _Lent to master Andrew Lucifer upon his flame-coloured doublet and blue taffeta hose_[445]—top the candle, sirrah; methinks the light burns blue: when came that suit in? AR. ’T’as lain above the year now. FRI. Fire and brimstone! cut it out into matches; the white linings will serve for tinder. AR. And with little help, sir; they are almost black enough already. Sir, here’s another come with a pawn. FRI. Keep him aside awhile, and reach me hither the bill of the last week. AR. ’Tis here at hand, sir. FRI. Now, sir, what’s your pawn? FIRST F. The second part of a gentlewoman’s gown, sir; the lower half, I mean. FRI. I apprehend you easily, the breeches of the gown. FIRST F. Very proper; for she wears the doublet at home, a guest that lies in my house, sir; she looks every hour for her cousin out a’ th’ country. FRI. O, her cousin lies here; ’a may mistake in that. My friend, of what parish is your pawn? FIRST F. Parish? why, Saint Clement’s, sir. FRI. I’ll come to you presently.[446]—What parish is your pawn, my friend? [_reads_] _Saint Bride’s_, 5; _Saint Dunstan’s, none_; _Saint Clement’s_, 3. Three at Clement’s?—Away with your pawn, sir! your parish is infected; I will neither purchase the plague for sixpence in the pound and a groat bill-money, nor venture my small stock into contagious parishes: you have your answer; fare you well, as fast as you can, sir. FIRST F. The pox arrest you, sir, at the suit of the suburbs! FRI. Ay, welcome, welcome. FIRST F. For, I think, plague scorns your company. [_Exit._ FRI. I rank with chief gallants; I love to smell safely. [_Reads_] _Lent in the vacation to master Proctor upon his spiritual gown five angels,[447] and upon his corporal doublet fifteen shillings; sum, three pound five shillings._ AR. Sir—— FRI. Now, sir? AR. [_bringing forward a trunk._] Here’s one come in with a trunk of apparel. FRI. Whence comes it? AR. From Saint Martin’s-in-the-Field. FRI. Saint Martin’s-in-the-Field? [_reads_] _Saint Mary Maudlin_, 2; _Saint Martin’s, none_: here’s an honest fellow; let him appear, sir. AR. You may come near, sir. FRI. O welcome, welcome; what’s your pawn, sir? SEC. F. Faith, a gentlewoman’s whole suit, sir. FRI. Whole suit? ’tis well. SEC. F. A poor, kind soul, troubled with a bad husband; one that puts her to her shifts here. FRI. He puts her from her shifts, methinks, when she is fain to pawn her clothes. SEC. F. Look you, sir; a fair satin gown, new taffeta petticoat—— FRI. Stay, this petticoat has been turned. SEC. F. Often turned up and down, and[448] you will, but never turned, sir. FRI. Cry you mercy, indeed. SEC. F. A fine white beaver, pearl band, three falls;[449] I ha’ known her have more in her days. FRI. Alas, and she be but a gentlewoman of any count or charge, three falls are nothing in these days! know that: tut, the world’s changed; gentlewomen’s[450] falls stand upright now; no sin but has a bolster, that it may lie at ease. Well, what do you borrow of these, sir? SEC. F. Twelve pound, and you will, sir. FRI. How? SEC. F. They were not her’s for twenty. FRI. Why, so; our pawn is ever thrice the value of our money, unless in plate and jewels; how should the months be restored and the use else? We must cast it for the twelvemonth, so many pounds, so many months, so many eighteenpences; then the use of these eighteenpences; then the want of the return of those pounds: all these must be laid together; which well considered, the valuation of the pawn had need to sound treble. Can six pound pleasure the gentlewoman? SEC. F. It may please her, but, like a man of threescore, in the limberest degree. FRI. I have but one word more to say in’t; twenty nobles[451] is all and the utmost that I will hazard upon’t. SEC. F. She must be content with’t: the less borrowed, the better paid; come. FRI. Arthur. AR. At hand, sir. FRI. Tell out twenty nobles, and take her name in a bill. SEC. F. I’m satisfied, sir. [_Exit with_ ARTHUR. FRI. Welcome, good Saint Martin’s-in-the-Field, welcome, welcome! I know no other name.

_Enter_ PRIMERO.

PRI. What, so hard at your prayers? FRI. A little, sir; summing up my pawns here—what, master Primero, is it you, sir gallant? and how do[452] all the pretty sweet ladies, those plump, kind, delicate blisses, ha? whom I kiss in my very thoughts,—how do they, gallant? PRI. Why, gallant, if they should not do well in my house, where should it be done, boy? have I not a glorious situation? FRI. O, a gallant receipt,—violet air, curious garden, quaint walks, fantastical arbours, three back doors, and a coach-gate! nay, thou’rt admirably seated: little furniture will serve thee; thou’rt never without moveables. PRI. Ay, praise my stars! Ah, the goodly virginities that have been cut up in my house, and the goodly patrimonies that have lain like sops in the gravy! and when those sops were eaten, yet the meat was kept whole for another, and another, and another; for as in one pie twenty may dip their sippits, so upon one woman forty may consume their patrimonies. FRI. Excellent, master Primero! PRI. Well, I will[453] pray for women while I live; They’re the profitablest fools, I’ll say that for ’em, A man can keep ’bout his house; the prettiest kind fowl; So tame, so gentle, e’en to strangers’ hands So soon familiar; suffer to be touch’d Of those they ne’er saw twice: the dove’s not like ’em. FRI. Most certain, for that’s honest: but I have A suit to you. PRI. And so have I to you. FRI. That happens well: grant mine, and I’ll grant yours. PRI. A match. FRI. Make me perfect in that trick that got you so much at primero.[454] PRI. O, for the thread tied at your partner’s leg, The twitch? FRI. Ay, that twitch, and[455] you call it[456] so. PRI. That secret twitch got me five hundred pound Ere ’twas first known, and since I ha’ sold it well: Five hundred pound laid down shall not yet buy The fee-simple of my twitch: I would be here with’t. ’Twas a blest invention; I’d[457] been a beggar many a lousy year But for my twitch: it was the prettiest twitch! Many over-cheated gulls have fatted Me with the bottom of their patrimonies, E’en to the last sop, gaped while I fed ’em, Who now live by that art that first undid ’em. But I must swear you to be secret, close. FRI. As a maid at ten. PRI. Had you sworn but two years higher I would ne’er ha’ believ’d you. FRI. Nay, I let twelve alone, For after twelve has struck, maids look for one. PRI. I look for one too, and a maid, I think. FRI. What, to come hither? PRI. Sure, she follows me: a pretty, fat-eyed wench, with a Venus in her cheek: did but raiment smile upon her, she were nectar for great dons, boy: and that’s my suit to thee. FRI. And that’s granted already. Of what volume is this book, that I may fit a cover to’t? PRI. Faith, neither in folio nor in decimo sexto, but in octavo, between both; a pretty, middle-sized trug.[458] FRI. Then I have fitted her already, in my eye, i’faith. Here came a pawn in e’en now will make shift to serve her as fit!—look you, sir gallant[459]—satin, taffeta, beaver, fall,[460] and all. PRI. Is it new? FRI. New? you see it bears her youth as freshly—— PRI. A pretty suit of clothes, i’faith: but put case the party should come to redeem ’em of a sudden? FRI. Pooh, then your wit’s sickly: have not I the policy, think you, to seem extreme busy, and defer ’em till the morrow? against which time that pawn shall be secretly fetched home, and another carried out to supply the place. PRI. I like thy craft well there. FRI. A general course. O, frippery[461] is an unknown benefit, sir gallant! PRI. And what must I give you for the hire now, i’faith? FRI. Of the whole suit, for the month? PRI. Ay, for the month. FRI. Go to, you shall give me but twelvepence a-day; master Primero, you’re a friend, and I’ll use you so: ’tis got up at your house in an afternoon, i’faith, the hire of the whole month: ye must think I can distinguish spirits, and put a difference between you and others; you pay no more, i’faith. PRI. I could have offered you no less myself. FRI. Tut, a man must use a friend as a friend may use him: your house has been a sweet house to me, both for pleasure and profit; I’ll give you your due: _omne tulit punctum_, you have always kept fine punks in your house, that’s for pleasure, _qui miscuit utile dulci_, and I have had sweet pawns from ’em, that’s for profit now. PRI. You flatter, you flatter, sir gallant,—but whist! here she enters: I prithee, question her.

_Enter Novice._

O, you’re welcome! FRI. Is this your new scholar, master Primero? PRI. Marry is she, sir. FRI. I’ll commend your judgment in a wench while I live: that face will get money, i’faith; ’twill be a get-penny, I warrant you.—Go to, your fortune was choice, pretty bliss, to fall into the regard of so kind a gentleman. NOV. I hope so, sir. FRI. See what his care has provided already for you; you’ll be simply set out to the world! If you’ll have that care now to deserve his pains, O that will be acceptable! and these be the rudiments you must chiefly point at: to counterfeit cunningly, to wind in gentlemen with powerful attraction to keep his house in name and custom, to dissemble with your own brother, never to betray your fellows’ imperfections nor lay open the state of their bodies to strangers, to believe those that give you, to gull those that believe you, to laugh at all under taffeta; and these be your rudiments. PRI. There’s e’en all, i’faith; we’ll trouble you with no more; nay, you shall live at ease enough: for nimming away jewels and favours from gentlemen, which are your chief vails, [I] hope that will come naturally enough to you, I need not instruct you; you’ll have that wit, I trust, to make the most of your pleasure. NOV. I hope one’s mother-wit will serve for that, sir. PRI. O, properest of all, wench! it must be a she-wit that does those things, and thy mother was quick enough at it in her days. FRI. Give me leave, sister, to examine you upon two or three particulars:—and you make you ready,[462] be not ashamed; here’s none but friends—are you a maid? NOV. Yes, in the last quarter, sir. FRI. Very proper, that’s e’en going out: a maid in the last quarter, that’s a whore in the first: let me see, new moon on Thursday; she’ll be changed[463] by that time too. Are you willing to pleasure gentlemen? NOV. We are all born to pleasure our country, forsooth. FRI. Excellent! Can you carry yourself cunningly, and seem often holy? NOV. O, fear not that, sir! my friends were all Puritans. FRI. I’ll ne’er try her further. PRI. She’s done well, i’faith: I fear not now to turn her loose to any gentleman in Europe. FRI. You need not, sir: of her own accord, I think she’ll be loose enough without turning.—Arthur.

_Re-enter_ ARTHUR.

AR. Here, sir. FRI. Go, make haste, shift her into that suit presently. AR. It shall be done. PRI. Arthur, do’t neatly, Arthur. AR. Fear’t not, sir. [_Exit._ PRI. Follow him, wench. NOV. With all my heart, sir. [_Exit._ PRI. But, mass, sir,[464] In what are we forgetful all this while! FRI. In what? PRI. The wooing business, man. FRI. Heart, that’s true! PRI. The gallants will prevent[465] us. FRI. Are you certain? PRI. I can avouch it: there’s a general meeting At the deceas’d knight’s house this afternoon; There’s rivalship enough. FRI. No doubt in that: Would either thou or I might bear her from ’em! PRI. My hopes are not yet faint. FRI. Nor mine. PRI. Tut, man, Nothing in women’s hearts sooner win[s] place Than a brave outside and an impudent face. FRI. And for both those we’ll fit it. PRI. Ay, if the devil be not in’t: make haste. FRI. I follow straight. [_Exit_ PRIMERO. Vanish, thou fog, and sink beneath our brightness, Abashed at the splendour of such beams! We scorn thee, base eclipser of our glories, That wouldst have hid our shine from mortal’s eyes. Now, gallants, I’m[466] for you, ay, and perhaps before you: You can appear but glorious from yourselves, And have your beams but drawn from your own light, But mine from many,—many make me bright. Here’s a diamond that sometimes graced the finger of a countess; here sits a ruby that ne’er lins[467] blushing for the party that pawned it; here a sapphire. O providence and fortune! my beginning was so poor, I would fain forget it; and I take the only course, for I scorn to think on’t; slave to a trencher, observer of a salt-cellar, privy to nothing but a close-stool, or such unsavoury secret: but as I strive to forget the days of my serving, so I shall once remember the first step of my raising; for, having hardly raked five mark[s][468] together, I rejoiced so in that small stock, which most providently I ventured by water to Blackwall among fishwives; and in small time, what by weekly return and gainful restitution, it rize[469] to a great body, beside a dish of fish for a present, that stately preserved me a seven-night.

Nor[470] ceas’d it there, but drew on greater profit; For I was held religious by those That do profess like abstinence, And was full often secretly supplied By charitable Catholics, Who censur’d[471] me sincerely abstinate, When merely I for hunger, not[472] for zeal, Eat up the fish, and put their alms to use! Ha, ha, ha! But those times are run out; and, for my sake, Zealous dissemblance has since far’d the worse. Let me see now, whose cloak shall I wear to-day to continue change?—O—Arthur!

_Re-enter_ ARTHUR.

AR. Here, sir. FRI. Bring down Sir Oliver Needy’s taffeta cloak and beaver hat—I am sure he is fast enough in the Knight’s ward[473]—and Andrew Lucifer’s rapier and dagger with the embossed girdle and hangers[474] [_exit_ ARTHUR], for he’s in his third sweat by this time, sipping of the doctor’s bottle, or picking the ninth part of a rack of mutton dry-roasted, with a leash of nightcaps on his head like the pope’s triple crown, and as many pillows crushed to his back, with O-the-needles! for he got the pox of a sempster, and it pricked so much more naturally. Quick, Arthur, quick.

_Re-enter_ ARTHUR, _with cloak, &c., which_ FRIPPERY _puts on_.

Now to the deceas’d knight’s daughter, Whom many gallants sue to, I ’mongst many; For Since impudence gains more respect than virtue, And coin than[475] blood, which few can now deny, Who’re your chief gallants then but such as I? [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_An Apartment in_ KATHERINE’S _House_.

_Enter_ KATHERINE _and_ FITSGRAVE.

FIT. You do your beauties injury, sweet virgin, To lose the time they must rejoice in youth: There’s no perfection in a woman plac’d But wastes itself though it be never wasted; Then judge your wrongs[476] yourself. KAT. Good master Fitsgrave, Through sorrow for the knight my father’s death, (Whose being was the perfection[477] of my joy And crown of my desires), I cannot yet But forcedly on marriage fix my heart: Yet heaven forbid I should deject your hopes! Conceive not of me so uncharitably; I should belie my soul if I should say You are the man I never should affect. I understand you thus far, you’re a gentleman, Whom your estate and virtues may commend[478] To a far worthier breast than this of mine. FIT. O cease! I dare not hear such blasphemy. What is without you worthy I neglect; In you is plac’d the worth that I respect. Vouchsafe,[479] unequall’d virgin, [to] accept This worthless favour from your servant’s arm, The hallow’d beads, whereon I justly kept The true and perfect number of my sighs. [_Gives a chain of pearl._ KAT. Mine cannot equal yours, yet in exchange Accept and wear it for my sake. [_Gives a jewel._ FIT. Even as my [life] I’ll rate it.

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE, PURSENET, TAILBY, FRIPPERY, PRIMERO, _and Boy_, _at the farther door_.

GOL. Heart! Fitsgrave in such bosom single-loves? PUR. So close and private with her! TAI. Observe ’em; he grows proud and bold. FRI. Why, was not this a general meeting? PRI. By her own consent. Death, how I could taste his blood! KAT. See, the gentlemen, At my request, do all present themselves. GOL. Manifold blisses wait on her desire, Whose beauty and whose mind so many honour! KAT. I take your wishes thankfully, kind gentlemen, All here assembled, over whose long suits I ne’er insulted; Nor, like that common sickness of our sex, Grew proud in the abundance of my suitors, Or number of the days they sued unto me. Dutiful sorrow for my father’s death, Not wilful coyness, hath my hours detain’d So long in silence. I’m left to mine own choice: so much the more My care calls on me: if I err through love, ’Tis I must chide myself; I cannot shift The fault unto my parents, they’re at rest; And I shall sooner err through love than wealth. GOL. Good! PUR. Excellent! TAI. That likes[480] me well. PRI. Hope still. KAT. And my affections do pronounce you all Worthy their pure and most entire deserts: Yet they can choose but one; Nor do I dissuade any of his hopes, Because my heart is not yet throughly fix’d On marriage or the man, But crave the quiet respite of one month, The month unto this night; against which time I do invite you all to that election, Which, on my unstain’d faith and virgin promise, Shall light amongst no strangers, but yourselves. May this content you? [_While she is speaking, the Boy steals from her the chain of pearl._ ALL. Glad and content! KAT. ’Tis a good time to leave: Till then commend us to your gentlest thoughts. [_Exit._ ALL. Enough. FIT. Ough!

[_The gallants look scurvily upon_ FITSGRAVE, _and_ _he upon them. Exeunt_ GOLDSTONE, TAILBY, FRIPPERY, _and_ PRIMERO. _As_ PURSENET _is going out, the Boy takes him into a corner_. BOY. Hist, master, hist! PUR. Boy, how now? BOY. Look you, sir. PUR. Her chain of pearl? BOY. I sneckt it away finely. PUR. Active boy, Thy master’s best revenue, his life and soul! Thou keep’st ’em both together: whip, away. [_Exit Boy._ Fall back, fall belly, I must be maintain’d: Hope is no purchase;[481] Nor care I if I miss her. Why I rank In this design with gallants, there’s full cause; Policy invites me to it: ’Tis not for love, or for her sake alone; It keeps my state suspectless and unknown. [_Aside, and exit._ FIT. Their looks run through and through me, and the stings Of their snake-hissing whispers pierc’d my hearing. They’re mad she grac’d me with one private minute Above their fortunes: I’ve[482] observed ’em often Most spitefully aspécted toward my happiness, Beyond all others; but the cause I know not. A quiet month the virgin has enclos’d Unto herself; suitors stand without till then: In which space cunningly I’ll wind myself Into their bosoms. I’ve bethought the shape; Some credulous scholar, easily infected With fashion, time, and humour: unto such Their deepest thoughts will, like to wanton fishes, Play above water, and be all parts seen: For since at me their envy pines, I’ll see Whether their lives from touch of blame sit free. [_Exit._

ACT II. SCENE I.

_A Room in_ PRIMERO’S _House_.

_Enter_ PRIMERO, _meeting_ MISTRESS NEWCUT.

PRI. Mistress Newcut, welcome: here will be choice of gallants for you anon. MIS. N. Is all clear? may I venture? am I not seen of the wicked? PRI. Strange absurdity, that you should come into my house, and ask if you be not seen of the wicked! push![483] I take’t unkindly, i’faith: what think you of my house? ’tis no such common receptacle. MIS. N. Forgive me, sweet master Primero: I can be content to have my pleasure as much as another, but I must have a care of my credit; I would not be seen; any thing else. My husband’s at sea, and a woman shall have an ill report in this world, let her carry herself never so secretly; you know’t, master Primero. And what choice of gallants be they? will they be proper gentlemen, think you? PRI. Nay, sure they are as proper as they will be already. MIS. N. I must have choice, you know; I come for no gain, but for sheer pleasure and affection. PRI. You see your old spy-hole yonder; take your stand, please your own eye. I’ll work it so the gallants shall present themselves before you, and in the most conspicuous fashion. MIS. N. That’s all I can desire—till better come. [_Aside._]—Look you. PRI. What mean you, lady? MIS. N. A trifle, sir, to buy you silver spurs: Good sir, accept it. [_Gives money, and exit._ PRI. Silver spurs? a pretty emblem! mark it; all her gifts are about riding still: the other day she sent me boot-hose wrought in silk and gold; now silver spurs. Well, go thy ways, thou’rt as profitable a spirit as e’er lighted into my house. Come, ladies, come, ’tis late; to music,—when?[484]

_Enter Courtesans and Novice._

FIRST C. You’re best command us, sir!—Our pimp’s grown proud. PRI. To fools and strangers these are gentlewomen Of sort and worship, knights’ heirs, great in portions, Boarded here for their music; And oftentimes ’tas been so cunningly carried, That I have had two stolen away at once, And married at Savoy,[485] and prov’d honest shopkeepers: And I may safely swear they practis’d music; They’re natural at prick-song. A small mist Will dazzle a fool’s eye, and that’s the world: So I can thump my hand upon the table With an austere grace, and cry one, two, and three, Fret, stamp, and curse, foh, ’twill pass well for me!

_Enter Boy._

How now, sirrah? BOY. They’re coming in, sir, and strangers in their company. PRI. Tune apace, ladies.—Be ready for the song, sirrah.

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE, PURSENET, FRIPPERY, TAILBY, FITSGRAVE _disguised, and_ BUNGLER.

GOL. Nay, I beseech you, gallants, be more inward[486] with this gentleman; his parts deserve it. PUR. Whence comes he, sir? GOL. Piping hot[487] from the university; he smells of buttered loaves yet; an excellent scholar, but the arrantest ass! For this our solicitor, he’s a rare fellow five-and-forty mile hence, believe that: his friends are of the old fashion, all in their graves; and now has he the leisure to follow all new fashions, ply the brothels, practise salutes and cringes. PUR. O! GOL. Now, dear acquaintance, I’ll bring you to see fashions. FIT. What house is this, sir? GOL. O, of great name: here music is profess’d; Here sometimes ladies practise, and the meanest, Daughters to men of worship, Whom gentlemen, such as ourselves, may visit, Court, clip,[488] and exercise our wits upon; It is a profess’d courtesy.

FIT. A pretty recreation, i’faith! GOL. I seldom saw so few here: you shall have ’em sometimes in every corner of the house, with their viols[489] betwixt their legs, and play the sweetest strokes; ’twould e’en filch your soul almost out of your bosom. FIT. Pax[490] on’t, we spoil ourselves for want of these things at university. GOL. You have no such natural happiness: let’s draw near. PRI. Gentlemen, you are all most respectively[491] welcome. GOL. We are bold and insatiate suitors, sir, to the breath of your music, and the dear sight of those ladies. PRI. And what our poor skill can invite you to, You’re[492] kindly welcome: you must pardon ’em, gentlemen, Virgins and bashful, besides new beginners; ’Tis not a whole month since they were first enter’d. GOL. Seven year in my knowledge. [_Aside._ PRI. They blush at their very lessons; they’ll[493] not endure To hear of a stop, a prick, or a semiquaver. FIRST C. O, out upon you! PRI. La, I tell you;—you’ll bear me witness, gentlemen, If their complaints come to their parents’ ears, They’re words of art I teach ’em, nought but art. GOL. Why, ’tis most certain. BUN. For all scholars know that _musica est ars_. ALL THE C. O beastly word! PRI. Look to the ladies, gentlemen. GOL. Kiss again. PUR. Come, another. TAI. This [is] a good interim. [_Exit._[494] PRI. What have you done, sir? BUN. Why, what have I done? PRI. Saw you their stomachs queasy,[495] and come with such gross meat? BUN. Why, is’t not Latin, sir? PRI. Latin? why, then, let the next to’t be Latin too. PUR. So, enough. GOL. Nay, I can assure you thus far, I that never knew the language have heard so much that _ars_ is Latin for art; and it may well be too, for there’s more art in’t now a-days than ever was. PRI. Is’t possible? I’m sorry then I’ve[496] followed it so far. FIRST C. A scholar call you him? PRI. Music must not jar: The offence is satisfied. Come, to the song; Begin, sir. [_The song: and he[497] keeps time, shews several humours and moods: the Boy in his pocket nims away Fitsgrave’s jewel here, and exit._ BUN. Not a whole month since you were entered, ladies? FIT. None that shall see their cunning will believe it. [_Aside._ PRI. It is no affliction,[498] gentlemen. BUN. I care not much, i’faith, if I write down to my father presently to send up my sister in all haste, that I may place her here at this music-school. MIS. N. [_peeping in_] ’Slid, ’tis the fool my cousin! I would not for the value of three recreations he had seen me here. PRI. How like you your new prize? FRI. Pray, give me leave; I have not yet sufficiently admir’d her. PRI. My wits[499] must not stand idle. ’Slife, he’s in a sick trance! GOL. A cheat or two among these mistresses Would not be ill bestow’d; I affect none, But for my prey: such are their affections, I know it; how could drabs and cheaters live else? Then since the world rolls on dissimulation, I’ll be the first dissembler. [_Aside._ FIRST C. Prithee, love, comfort, choice, My only wish, in thee I am confin’d! Deny me any thing, a slight chain of pearl? PUR. Nay, and it[500] be but slight—— FIRST C. Being denied, I prize it slight; but given me by my love, Light shall not be so dear unto my eye, Mine eye unto the body, as the gift. PUR. How have I power to deny this to you, That command all? my fortunes are thy servants, And thou the mistress both of them and me. [_Gives her the chain._ FIRST C. The truest that e’er breath’d! GOL. To a gentleman That thus so long and so[501] sincerely lov’d you As I myself, ne’er was less pity shewn. SEC. C. Why, I never was held cruel. GOL. But to me. SEC. C. Nor to you. GOL. Go to, ’t’as scar’d you much. SEC. C. I’m sorry your conceit is so unkind To think me so. GOL. When had I other argument? I’ve often tender’d you my love and service, And that in no mean fashion; Yet were you never[502] that requiteful mistress That grac’d me with one favour; ’Slight, not so much as such a pretty ring; Pax[503] on’t, ’t’as almost broke my heart. [_Takes off her ring._ SEC. C. Has took it off:—’Sfoot, master Goldstone![504] GOL. Nay, where a man loves most, there to be scanted! SEC. C. My ring, come, come—— GOL. What reckon I a satin gown or two, If she were wise? SEC. C. Life! my ring, sir, come—— GOL. Have you the face, i’faith? SEC. C. Give me my ring. GOL. Prithee, hence; by this light you get none on’t. SEC. C. How? GOL. I hold your favours of more pure esteem Than to part from ’em; faith, I do, howe’er You think of me. SEC. C. Push,[505] pray, sir—— GOL. Hark you, go to; You’ve[506] lost much by unkindness; go your ways. SEC. C. ’Sfoot! GOL. But yet there’s no time past; you may redeem it. SEC. C. Come, I cannot miss[507] it, i’faith; beside, the gentleman that bestowed it on me swore to me it cost him twenty nobles.[508] GOL. Twenty nobles? pox of twenty nobles! But you must cost me more, you pretty villain: Ah, you little rogue! SEC. C. Come, come, I know you’re but in jest. GOL. In jest? no, you shall see. SEC. C. No way will get it: As good give it him now, and hope for somewhat. [_Aside._ GOL. True love made jest! SEC. C. I did but try thy faith, How fast thou’dst hold it. Now I see a woman May venture worthy favours to thy trust, And have ’em truly kept; and I protest, Had I drawn’t from thee, I should ne’er ha’ lov’d thee; I know that. GOL. ’Sfoot, I was ne’er so wrongèd in my life! Think you I’m[509] in jest with you? what, with my love? I could find lighter subjects you shall see; And time will shew how much you injure me. SEC. C. The ring, were it[510] thrice worth, I freely give, For I know you’ll[511] requite it. GOL. Will I live? SEC. C. Enough. GOL. Why, this was well come off now: Where’s my old serving-man? not yet return’d? O, here he peeps. [_Aside._

_Enter_ FULK.

Now, sirrah? FULK. May it please your worship—they’re done artificially, i’faith, boy. GOL. Both the great beakers? FULK. Both, lad. GOL. Just the same size? FULK. Ay, and the marks as just. GOL. So, fall off respectively[512] now. FULK. My lord desires your worship of all love—— GOL. His lordship must hold me excused till morning; I’ll not break company to-night. Where sup we, gallants? PUR. At Mermaid.[513] GOL. Sup there who list, I forsworn the house. FULK. For the truth is, this plot must take effect at Mitre.[514] [_Aside, and exit._ PUR. Faith,[515] I’m indifferent. BUN. So are we, gentlemen. PUR. Name the place, master Goldstone. GOL. Why, the Mitre, in my mind, for neat attendance, diligent boys, and—push![516] excels it far. ALL. Agreed, the Mitre then. PUR. Boy[517]—some goodness toward:[518] the boy’s whipt away. [_Aside._ FIT. The jewel, heart, the jewel! GOL. How now, sir? what mov’d you? FIT. Nothing, sir; A spice of poetry, a kind a’ fury, A disease runs among scholars. GOL. Mass, it made you stamp. FIT. Whew, ’T’ill make some stamp and stare, make a strange noise, Curse, swear, beat tire-men,[519] and kick players’ boys; The effects are very fearful. PUR. Bless me from’t! FIT. O, you need not fear it, sir.—Hell of this luck! GOL. Hark, he’s at it again! PUR. Some pageant-plot, or some device for the tilt-yard: Disturb him not. FIT. How can I gain her love, When I have lost her favour? [_Aside._ GOL. What money hast about thee? Look you,[520] sir, I must be fain to pawn a fair stone here for ordinary expenses: a pox of my tenants! I give ’em twenty days after the quarter, and they cut out forty. FRI. Why, you might take the forfeiture of their leases then. GOL. I know I might; but what’s their course? The rogues come[521] me up all together, with geese and capons, and petitions in pigs’ snouts, which would move any man, i’faith, were his stomach ne’er so great; and to see how pitifully the pullen[522] will look, it makes me after relent, and turn my anger into a quick fire to roast ’em—nay, touch’t and spare it not. FRI. ’Tis right: well, what does your worship borrow of this, sir? GOL. The stone’s twenty nobles.[523] FRI. Nay, hardly. GOL. As I am a right gentleman. FRI. It comes near it indeed: well, here’s five pound in gold upon’t. GOL. ’Twill serve; and the ring safe and secret? FRI. As a virgin’s. GOL. I wish no higher.—What, gallants, are you constant? Does the place hold? ALL. The Mitre. GOL. Sir, in regard of our continued boldness and trouble, which love to your music hath made us guilty of, shall we entreat your worship’s company, with these sweet ladies, your professed scholars, to take part of a poor supper with myself and these gentlemen at the Mitre? FRI. Pray, master Primero—— PUR. I beseech you, sir, let it be so. PRI. O, pardon me, sweet gentlemen; the world’s apt to censure. I have the charge of them, they’re left in trust, they’re virgins: and I dare not hazard their fames; the least touch mars ’em: and what would their right worshipful parents think, if the report should fly to them, that they were seen with gentlemen in a tavern? GOL. All this may be prevented: what serves your coach for? They may come coach’d and mask’d. PRI. You put me to’t, sir; Yet I must say again, I fear the drawers And vintner’s boys will be familiar with them, And think ’em mistresses. PUR. There are those places where respect seems slighter; More censure[524] is belonging to the Mitre; You know that, sir. PRI. Gentlemen, you prevail. GOL. We’ll all expect you there. PRI. And we’ll not fail. FRI. The devil will ne’er dissemble with them so, As you for them. GOL. Come, sir. FRI. What else? let’s go. [_Exeunt all except_ PRIMERO, _Courtesans, and Novice_.

_Re-enter_ TAILBY.

PRI. How cheer you, sir? TAI. Faith, like the moon, more bright, Decreas’d in body, but re-made in light: Here thou shalt share some of my brightness with me. PRI. By my faith, they’re[525] comfortable beams, sir. FIRST C. Come, Where have you spent the time now from my sight? I’m jealous of thy action. TAI. Push![526] I did but walk A turn or two in the garden. FIRST C. What made you[527] there? TAI. Nothing but cropt a flower. FIRST C. Some woman’s honour, I believe. TAI. Foh! is this a woman’s honour? FIRST C. Much about one, When both are pluck’d, their sweetness is soon gone. TAI. Prithee, be true to me. FIRST C. When did I fail? TAI. Yet I am ever doubtful that you[528] sin. FIRST C. I do account the world but as my spoil, To adorn thee: My love is artificial to all others, But purity to thee. Dost thou want gold? Here, take this chain of pearl, supply thyself: Be thou but constant, firm, and just to me, Rich heirs shall want ere want come near to thee. _Tai._ Upon thy lip I seal sincerity. [_Exit First Courtesan._ SEC. C. Was this your vow to me? TAI. Pox, what’s a kiss to be quite rid of her? She’s su’d so long, I was asham’d of her: ’Twas but her cheek I kiss’d neither, to save her longing. SEC. C. ’Tis not a kiss I weigh. TAI. Had you weigh’d this, ’T’ad lack’d above five ounces of a true one; No kiss that e’er weigh’d lighter. SEC. C. ’Tis thy love that I suspect. TAI. My love? why, by this—what shall I swear by? SEC. C. Swear by this jewel; keep thy oath, keep that. TAI. By this jewel, then, no creature can be perfect In my love but thy dear self. SEC. C. I rest [content]. [_Exit._ TAI. Ha, ha, ha! let’s laugh at ’em, sweet soul. NOV. Ay, they may laugh at me; I was a novice, and believ’d your oaths. TAI. Why, what do you think of me? make I no difference ’Tween[529] seven years’ prostitution and seven days? Why, you’re but in the wane of a maid yet. You wrong my health in thinking I love them: Do not I know their populous[530] imperfections? Why, they cannot live till Easter, let ’em shew The fairest side to th’ world, like hundreds more, Whose clothes E’en stand upright in silver, when their bodie[s] Are ready to drop through ’em: such there be; They may deceive the world, they ne’er shall me. NOV. Forgive my doubts; And for some satisfaction wear this ring, From which I vow’d ne’er but to thee to part. TAI. With which thou ever[531] bind’st me to thy heart. [_Exit Novice._ [_singing_] _O, the parting of us twain Hath caus’d me mickle[532] pain! And I shall ne’er be married Until I see my muggle again._ MIS. N. [_peeping in_] Hist! PRI. Ha? MIS. N. The nimble gentleman, in the celestial stockings—— PRI. Has the best smock-fortune to be beloved of women.— Valle loo lo, lille lo lillo, valle loo lee lo lillo! TAI. Valle loo lo, lille [lo] lillo, valle loo lee lo lillo! MIS. N. Ah, sweet gentleman, he keeps it up stately! [_Aside._ PRI. Well held, i’faith, sir: mass, and now I remember too, I think you ne’er saw my little banqueting box above since I altered it. TAI. Why, have you altered that? PRI. O, divinely, sir! the pictures are all new run over again. TAI. Fie!

PRI. For what had the painter done, think you? drew me Venus naked, which is the grace of a man’s room, you know; and, when he had done, drew a number of oaken leaves before her: had not lawn been a hundred times softer, made a better shew, and been more gentlewoman-like? TAI. More lady-like a great deal. PRI. Come, you shall see how ’tis altered now; I do not think but you’ll like her. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Street._

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.[533]

FIT. My pocket pick’d? this was no brothel-house! A music-school? damnation has fine shapes: I paid enough for the song, I’ve[534] lost a jewel To me more precious than their souls to them That gave consent to filch it. I’ll hunt hard, Waste time and money, trace and wheel about, But I will find these secret mischiefs out.

_Enter Servant._

How now? what’s he? O, a servant to my love: being thus disguis’d, I’ll learn some news. [_Aside._]—Now, sir? you belong to me.[535] SER. I do, sir; but I cannot stay to say so: nay, good sir, detain me not; I am going in all haste to inquire or lay wait for a chain of pearl, nimmed out of her pocket the fifth of November, a dismal day. FIT. Ha! a chain of pearl, sayst thou? SER. A chain of pearl, sir, which one master Fitsgrave, a gentleman and a suitor, fastened upon her as a pledge of his love. FIT. Ha! SER. Urge me no more, I have no more to say; Your friend, Jeronimo Bedlam. [_Exit._ FIT. Thou’rt a mad fellow indeed. Some comfort yet, that hers is missing too; I feel my soul at much more ease: both stoln![536] When griefs have partners they are better borne. [_Exit._

SCENE III.[537]

_A Room in the Mitre._[538]

_Where are discovered_ PRIMERO, _Courtesans_, _Novice_, GOLDSTONE, PURSENET, FRIPPERY, TAILBY, BUNGLER, FULK, ARTHUR, _Boy_, _and Servant_.

PRI. Where be your liveries? FIRST C. They attend without. PRI. Go, call the coach. [_Exit Servant._]—Gentlemen, you have excelled in kindness as we in boldness. TAI. So you think amiss, sir. GOL. Kind ladies, we commit you to sweet dreams, Ourselves unto the fortune of the dice.— Dice, ho! [_Exit_ PRIMERO. FIRST C. You rest firm mine? TAI. E’en all my soul to thee. [_Exit First Courtesan._ SEC. C. You keep your vows? TAI. Why, do I breathe or see? [_Exit Sec. Courtesan._ NOV. Is your love constant? TAI. Ay, to none but thee. [_Exit Novice._ Now gone, ay, now I love nor them nor thee; ’Slife, I should be cloy’d, should I love one in three.

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.

PUR. O, here’s master Bouser now. FIT. Save you, sweet gentlemen. TAI. Sweet master Bouser, welcome. PUR. When come these dice? [_Within._] Anon, anon, sir. PUR. Yet anon, anon, sir! GOL. Hast thou shewn art in ’em? FULK. You shall be judge, sir; here be the tavern-beakers, and here peep out the fine alchemy[539] knaves, looking like well, sir, most of our gallants, that seem what they are not. GOL. Peace, villain, am not I in presence? FULK. Why, that puts me in mind of the jest, sir. GOL. Again, you chatterer?[540] FULK. Nay, compare ’em, and spare ’em not. GOL. The bigness of the bore, just the same size; the marks, no difference. Away, put money in thy pocket, and offer to draw in upon the least occasion. FULK. I am no babe, sir. GOL. Hist! FULK. What’s the matter now? GOL. Give me a pair of false dice ere you go. FULK. Pax[541] on’t, you’re so troublesome too, you cannot remember a thing before! If I stay a little longer, I shall be staid anon.

_Enter Vintner._

VIN. Here be dice for your worships. PUR. O, come, come! GOL. The vintner himself? I’ll shift away these beakers by a slight.[542] [_Aside._ VIN. Master Goldstone—— GOL. How now, you conjuring rascal? VIN. Bless your good worship; you’re in humours, methinks. GOL. Humours? say that again. VIN. I said no such word, sir.—Would I had my beakers out on’s fingers! [_Aside._ GOL. What’s thy name, vintner? VIN. Jack, and[543] please your worship. GOL. Turn knight, like thy companions, scoundrel, live upon usury, wear thy gilt spurs at thy girdle for fear of slubbering. VIN. O no, I hope I shall have more grace than so, sir! Pray, let me help your worship. GOL. Cannot I push ’em together without your help? VIN. O, I beseech your worship! they’re the two standards of my house. GOL. Standards? there lie your standards. VIN. Good your worship.—I am glad they are out of his fingers: my wife shall lock ’em up presently; they shall see no sun this twelvemonth’s day for this trick. [_Aside._ GOL. Let me come to the sight of your standards again. VIN. Your worship shall pardon me.—Now you shall not see ’em in haste, I warrant ye. [_Aside._ GOL. I do not desire’t. Ha, ha! [_Exit Vintner[544] with beakers._ FIT. Why, master Goldstone! GOL. I am for you, gallants.—Master Bouser, cry you mercy, sir: why supped you from us? FIT. Faith, sir, I met with a couple of my fellow-pupils at university, and so we renewed our acquaintance and supped together. GOL. Fie, that’s none of the newest fashion, I must tell you that, master Bouser: you must never take acquaintance of any a’ th’ university when you are at London; nor any of London when you’re at university: you must be more forgetful, i’faith; every place ministers his acquaintance abundantly. BUN. He tells you true, sir. GOL. I warrant you here’s a gentleman will ne’er commit such an absurdity. BUN. Who, I? no: ’tis well known, if I be disposed, I’ll forget any man in a seven-night, and yet look him in the face: nay, let him ride but ten mile from me, and come home again, it shall be at my choice whether I’ll remember him or no: I have tried that. GOL. This is strange, sir. BUN. ’Tis as a man gives his mind to’t, sir: and now you bring me in, I remember ’twas once my fortune to be cozened of all my clothes, and with my clothes my money; a poor shepherd, pitying me, took me in and relieved me. GOL. ’Twas kindly done of him, i’faith. BUN. Nay, you shall see now: ’twas his fortune likewise, not long after, to come to me in much distress, i’faith, and with weeping eyes; and do you think I remembered him? GOL. You could not choose. BUN. By my troth, not I; I forgot him quite, and never remembered him to this hour. GOL. And yet knew who he was? BUN. As well as I know you, i’faith: ’tis a gift given to some above others. FIT.[545] To fools and knaves; they never miss on’t. [_Aside._ BUN. Does any make such a wonder at this? why, alas, ’tis nothing to forget others! what say you to those that forget themselves? GOL. Nay, then, to dice:—come, set me, gallants, set. FRI. Ay, fall to’t, gentlemen, I shall hear some news from some of you anon: I’ve[546] th’ art to know which lose, and ne’er look on. I’ll be ready with all the worst money I can find about me. [_Aside._]—Arthur! AR. Here, sir. FRI. Stand ready. AR. Fear not me, sir. GOL. These are mine, sir. FRI. Here’s a washed angel;[547] It shall away: here’s mistress rose-noble[548] Has lost her maidenhead, crack’d in the ring;[549] She’s good enough for gamesters, and to pass From man to man: for gold presents at dice Your harlot, in one hour won and lost thrice; Every man has a fling at her. TAI. Again? pax[550] of these dice! BUN. ’Tis ill to curse the dead, sir. TAI.[551] Mew, where should I wish the pox but among bones? FIT. He tells you right, sir. TAI. I ne’er have any luck at these odd hands: None here to make us six? why, master Frip! FRI. I am very well here, I thank you, sir: I had rather be telling my money myself than have others count it for me; ’tis the scurviest music in the world, methinks, to hear my money gingle in other men’s pockets; I never had any mind to’t, i’faith. TAI. ’Slud, play six or play four, I’ll play no more. GOL. ’Sfoot, you see there’s none here to draw in.

FULK. Rather than you should be destitute, gentlemen, I’ll play my ten pound, if my master’s worship will give me leave. PUR. Come. TAI. He shall, he shall. GOL. Pray, excuse me, gentlemen.—’Sfoot, how now, goodman rascal? what! because you served my grandfather when he went ambassador, and got some ten pound by th’ hand, has that put such spirit in you to offer to draw in among gentlemen of worship, knave? TAI. Pray, sir, let’s entreat so much for once. PUR. ’Tis a usual grace, i’faith, sir; You’ve many gentlemen will play with their men. BUN. Ay, and with their maids too, i’faith. PUR. Good sir, give him leave. GOL. Yes, come, and[552] you be weary on’t; I pray draw near, sir. FULK. Not so, sir. TAI. Come, fool, fear nothing; I warrant ’t ye has given thee leave: stand here by me.—Come now, set round, gentlemen, set. PUR. How the poor fellow shakes!—Throw lustily, man. FULK. At all, gentlemen! TAI. Well said, i’faith. PUR. They’re all thine.[553] TAI. By my troth, I am glad the fellow has such luck, ’twill encourage him well. FULK. At my master’s worship alone! GOL. Now, sir slave? FULK. At my master’s worship alone! GOL. So, saucy rascal! FULK. At my master’s worship alone! GOL. You’re a rogue, and will be ever one![554] FULK. By my troth, gentlemen, at all again for once! TAI. Take ’em to thee, boy, take ’em to thee; thou’rt worthy of ’em, i’faith. GOL. Gentlemen, faith I am angry with you: go and suborn my knave again[555] me here, to make him proud and peremptory! TAI. Troth, that’s but your conceit, sir; the fellow’s an honest fellow, and knows his duty, I dare swear for him. PUR. Heart, I am sick already! GOL. Whither goes master [Pursenet]? PUR. Play on; I’ll take my turn, sir.—Boy. BOY. Master? PUR. Hist![556] a supply;—carry’t closely, my little fooker,—how much? BOY. Three pound, sir. PUR. Good boy! take out another lesson.—How now, gentlemen? TAI. Devil’s in’t, did you e’er see such a hand? PUR. I set you these three angels.[557] BOY. My master may set high, for all his stakes are drawn out of other men’s pockets. [_Aside._ FULK. As I said, gentlemen. PUR. Deuce, ace! FULK. At all your right worshipful worships! PUR. &c.[558] Death and vengeance! GOL. Hell, darkness! TAI. Hold, sir. PUR. Master Goldstone—— GOL. Hinder me not, sweet gentlemen.—You rascal, I banish thee the board. TAI. I’faith, but you shall not, sir. GOL. Touch a die, and[559] thou darest! come you in with your lousy ten pound, you slave, among gentlemen of worship, and win thirty at a hand? TAI. Why, will you kick again[560] luck, sir? BUN. As long as the poor fellow ventures the loss of his own money, who can be offended at his fortunes? FULK. I have a master here! many a gentleman would be glad to see his man come forward, aha. PUR. Pray, be persuaded, sir. GOL. ’Slife, here’s none cuts my throat in play but he; I have observ’d it, an unlucky slave ’tis. BUN. Methinks his luck’s good enough, sir. GOL. Upon condition, gentlemen, that I may ever bar him from the board hereafter, I am content to wink at him. PUR. Faith, use your own pleasure hereafter; has won our money now.—Come to th’ table, sir; your master’s friends with you. FULK. Pray, gentlemen—— TAI. The fiend’s in’t, I think: I left a fair chain of pearl at my lodging too, like an ass, and ne’er remembered it; that would ha’ been a good pawn now.— Speak, what do you lend upon these, master Frip? [_Offering his weapons, with girdle and hangers_] I care not much if you take my beaver hat too, for I perceive ’tis dark enough already, and it does but trouble me here. FRI. Very well, sir; why, now I can lend you three pound, sir. TAI. Prithee, do’t quickly then. FRI. There ’tis, in six angels.[561]

TAI. Very compendiously. FRI. Here, Arthur, run away with these presently; I’ll enter ’em into th’ shop-book to-morrow. [_Exit_ ARTHUR _with weapons, &c._] [_Writing_] _Item, one gilt hatcht[562] rapier and dagger, with a fair embroidered girdle and hangers,[563] with which came also a beaver hat with a correspondent band._ TAI. Push![564] i’faith, sir, you’re to blame; you have snibbed[565] the poor fellow too much; he can scarce speak, he cleaves his words with sobbing. FULK. Haff,[566] haff, haff, haff at all, gentlemen. GOL. Ah, rogue, I’ll make you know yourself! FULK. At the fairest! PUR. Out, i’faith! two aces. GOL. I am glad of that; come, pay me all these, goodman cloak-bag. PUR. Why, are you the fairest, sir? GOL. You need not doubt of that, sir.—Five angels, you scoundrel! TAI. Fie[567] a’ these dice! not one hand to-night!— There they go, gentlemen, at all, i’faith! PUR. Pay all with two treys and a quater. TAI. All curses follow ’em! pay yourselves withal.—I’ll pawn myself to’t, but I’ll see a hand to-night: not once hold in!—Here, master Frip, lend me your hand, quick, quick; so. [_Taking off his doublet._ FRI. What do you borrow of this doublet now? TAI. Ne’er saw the world three days. FRI. Go to; in regard you’re a continual customer I’ll use you well, and pleasure you with five angels[568] upon’t. TAI. Let me not stand too long i’ th’ cold for them. BUN. Had ever country gentleman such fortune? All swoopt away! I’d need repair to th’ broker’s. TAI. If you be in that mind, sir, there sits a gentleman will furnish you upon any pawn as well as the publickst broker of ’em all. BUN. Say you so, sir? there’s comfort in that, i’faith. FRI. [_Writing_] _Item, upon his orange-tawny satin doublet five angels._ BUN. But, by your leave, sir, next come[569] the breeches. FRI. O, I have tongue fit for any thing. BUN. Saving your tale, sir; ’tis given me to understand that you are a gentleman i’ th’ hundred, and deal in the premises aforesaid. FRI. Master Bungler, master Bungler, you’re mightily mistook: I am content to do a gentleman a pleasure for once, so his pawn be neat and sufficient. BUN. Why, what say you to my grandfather’s seal-ring here? FRI. Ay, marry, sir, this is somewhat like. BUN. Nay, view it well; an ancient arms, I can tell you. FRI. What’s this, sir? BUN. The great cod-piece, with nothing in’t. FRI. How! BUN. The word[570] about it, _Parturiunt montes_. FRI. What’s that, I pray, sir? BUN. _You promise to mount us._ FRI. And belike he was not so good as his word? BUN. So it should seem by the story, for so our names came to be Bunglers. FRI. A lamentable hearing, that so great a house should shrink and fall to ruin! PUR. Two quaters, and yet lose it? heart!—Boy!—i’faith, what is’t? BOY. Five pound, sir. PUR. By my troth, this boy goes forward well; ye shall see him come to his preferment i’ th’ end! GOL. Why, how now? who’s that, gentlemen? a bargeman? TAI. I never have any luck, gallants, till my doublet’s off; Pm not half nimble enough. At this old cinque-quater drivel-beard! GOL.[571] Your worship must pay me all these, sir. TAI. There, and feast the devil with ’em! PUR. Hell gnaw these dice! GOL. What, do you give over, gallants? FIT.[572] Is’t not time? TAI. I protest I have but one angel left to guide me home to my lodging. GOL. How much, thinkest? FULK. Some fourscore angels, sir. GOL. Peace, we’ll join powers anon, and see how strong we are in the whole number. Mass, yon gilt goblet stands so full in mine eye, the whorson tempts me; it comes like cheese after a great feast, to disgest[573] the rest: he will hardly ’scape me, i’faith, I see that by him already: back for a parting blow now.—Boy!

_Re-enter Vintner._

VIN. Anon, anon, sir. GOL. Fetch a pennyworth of soft wax to seal letters. VIN. I will, sir. [_Exit._ TAI. Nay, had not I strange casting? thrice together two quaters and a deuce! PUR. Why, was not I as often haunted with two treys and a quater?

_Re-enter Vintner._

VIN. There’s wax for your worship.—Anon, anon, sir. [_Exit._ GOL. Screen me a little, you whorson old cross-biter.[574] FULK. Why, what’s the business? filch it on hob goblet! PUR. And what has master Bouser lost? FIT. Faith, not very deeply, sir; enough for a scholar, some half a score royals. PUR. ’Sfoot, I have lost as many with spurs[575] at their heels.

_Re-enter Vintner with two Drawers._ GOL. Come, gallants, shall we stumble? TAI. What’s a’ clock? FIRST D. Here’s none on’t, Dick; the goblet’s carried down. GOL. Nay, ’tis upon the point of three, boy. SEC. D. What’s[576] to be done, sirs? VIN. All’s paid, and your worships are welcome; only there’s a goblet missing, gentlemen, and cannot be found about house. GOL. How, a goblet? PUR. What manner a’ one? VIN. A gilt goblet, sir, of an indifferent size. GOL. ’Sfoot, I saw such a one lately. VIN. It cannot be found now, sir. GOL. Came there no strangers here? VIN. No, sir. GOL. This [is] a marvellous matter, that a goblet should be gone, and none but we in the room; the loss is near all,[577] here as we are; keep the door, vintner. VIN. No, I beseech your worship. GOL. By my troth, vintner, we’ll have a privy search for this. What! we are not all one woman’s children. VIN. I beseech ye, gentlemen, have not that conceit of me, that I suspect your worships. GOL. Tut, you are an ass; do you know every man’s nature? there’s a broker i’ th’ company. PUR. ’Slife, you have not stole the goblet, boy, have you? BOY. Not I, sir. PUR. I was afraid.—’Tis a good cause, i’faith, let each man search his fellow: we’ll begin with you. TAI. I shall save somebody a labour, gentlemen, for I’m half searched already. PUR. I thought the goblet had hung here, i’faith; none here, nor here. GOL. Seek about floor.—What was the goblet worth, vintner? VIN. Three pound ten shillings, sir; no more. GOL. Pox on’t, gentlemen, ’tis but angels[578] a-piece: it shall be a brace of mine, rather than I would have our reputations breathed upon by all comers; for you must think they’ll talk on’t in all companies—such a night, in such a company, such a goblet: ’sfoot, it may grow to a gangrene in our credits, and be incurable. TAI. Faith, I am content. FRI. So am I. PUR. There’s my angel too. GOL. So, and mine.—I’ll tell thee what, the missing of this goblet has dismayed the gentlemen much. VIN. I am sorry for that, sir. GOL. Yet they send thee this comfort by me; if they see thee but rest satisfied, and depart away contented, which will appear in thy countenance, not three times thrice the worth of the goblet shall hang between them and thee, both in their continual custom and all their acquaintances’. VIN. I thank their worships all; I am satisfied. GOL. Say it again.—Do you hear, gentlemen? VIN. I thank your worships all; I am satisfied. [_Exeunt Vintner and Drawers._ GOL. Why, la, was not this better than hazarding our reputations upon trifles, and in such public as a tavern, such a questionable place? TAI. True. PUR. Faith,[579] it was well thought on. GOL. Nay, keep your way, gentlemen: I have sworn, master Bouser, I will be last, i’faith. [_Exeunt all except_ GOLDSTONE _and_ FULK.]—Rascal, the goblet! FULK. Where, sir? GOL. Peep yon,[580] sir, under. FULK. Here, sir.[581] [_Exeunt._

ACT III.[582] SCENE I.

_A Room in_ TAILBY’S _Lodging_.

_Enter_ TAILBY _reading a letter_.

TAI. [_reads_] _My husband is rode from home: make no delay; I know, if your will be as free as your horse, you will see me yet ere dinner. From Kingston, this eleventh of November._—Hah! these women are such creatures, such importunate, sweet souls, they’ll scarce give a man leave to be ready;[583] that’s their only fault, i’faith: if they be once set upon a thing, why, there’s no removing of ’em, till their pretty wills be fulfilled. O, pity thy poor oppressed client here, sweet Cupid, that has scarce six hours’ vacation in a month, his causes hang in so many courts! yet never suffer my French adversary, nor his big swoln confederates, to overthrow me, Who without mercy would my blood carouse, And lay me in prison in a doctor’s house. Thy clemency, great Cupid!—Peace, who comes here?

_Enter_ PURSENET.

PUR. Sir gallant, well encountered. TAI. I both salute and take my leave together. PUR. Why, whither so fast, sir? TAI. Excuse me, pray; I’m in a little haste; My horse waits for me. PUR. What, some journey toward?[584] TAI. A light one, i’faith, sir. PUR. I’m[585] sorry that my business so commands me, I cannot ride with you; but I make no question You have company enough. TAI. Alas, not any!—nor do I desire it.—[_Aside._ Why, ’tis but to Kingston yonder. PUR. O, cry you mercy, sir. TAI. ’Scape but one reach, there’s little danger thither. PUR. True, a little of Combe Park.[586] TAI. You’ve nam’d the place, sir; that’s all I fear, i’faith. PUR. Farewell, sweet master Tailby. [_Exit_ TAIL. This fell out happily; I’ll call this purchase[587] mine before I greet him; E’en where his fear lies most, there will I meet him.

SCENE II.[588]

_Combe Park._

_Enter_ PURSENET _with a scarf over his face, and Boy_.

PUR. Boy. BOY. Sir? PUR. Walk my horse behind yon thicket; give a word if you descry. BOY. I have all perfect, sir. [_Exit._ PUR. So; he cannot now be long. What with my boy’s dexterity at ordinaries, and my gelding’s celerity over hedge and ditch, but we make pretty shift to rub out a gallant; for I have learnt these principles: Stoop thou to th’ world, ’twill on thy bosom tread; It stoops to thee, if thou advance thy head. The mind being far more excellent than fate, ’Tis fit our mind then be above our state. Why should I write my extremities in my brow, To make them loathe me that respect me now? If every man were in his courses known, Legs that now honour him might spurn him down. To conclude, nothing seems as it is but honesty, and that makes it so little regarded amongst us. BOY [_within_]. Ela, ha, ho! PUR. The boy? He’s hard at hand; I’ll cross him suddenly: And here he comes.—

_Enter_ TAILBY.

Stand! TAI. Ha! PUR. Deliver your purse, sir. TAI. I feared none but this place, i’faith; nay, when my mind gives me a thing once—— PUR. Quick, quick, sir, quick; I must despatch three robberies yet ere night. TAI. I’m glad you have such good doings, by my troth, sir. PUR. You’ll fare ne’er[589] a whit the better for your flattery, I warrant you, sir.

TAI. I speak sincerely; ’tis pity such a proper-parted gentleman should want; nor shall you, as long as I have’t about me. [PURSENET _rifles his pockets_.] Nay, search and spare not: there’s a purse in my left pocket, as I take it, with fifteen pound in gold in’t, and there’s a fair chain of pearl in the other: nay, I’ll deal truly with you; it grieves me, i’faith, when I see such goodly men in distress; I’ll rather want it myself than they should go without it. PUR. And that shews a good nature, sir. TAI. Nay, though I say it, I have been always accounted a man of a good nature; I might have hanged myself ere this time else. Pray, use me like a gentleman; take all, but injury[590] not my body. PUR. You must pardon me, sir; I must a little play the usurer, And bind you, for mine own security. TAI. Alas, there’s no conscience in that, sir! shall I enter into bond and pay money too? PUR. Tut, I must not be betrayed. TAI. Hear me but what I say, sir; I do protest I would not be he that should betray a man, to be prince of the world. PUR. Mass, that’s the devil,—I thank you heartily,— For he’s call’d prince a’ th’ world. TAI. You take me still at worst. PUR. Swear on this sword, then, To set spurs to your horse, not to look back, To give no marks to any passenger. TAI. Marks?[591] why, I think you have left me ne’er a penny, sir.

PUR. I mean, no marks of any.[592] TAI. I understand you, sir. PUR. Swear then. TAI. I’faith, I do, sir. PUR. Away! TAI. I’m gone, sir.—By my troth, of a fierce thief he seems to be a very honest gentleman. [_Exit._ PUR. Why, this was well adventur’d, trim a gallant! Now, with a covetous[593] and long-thirsting eye, Let me behold my purchase,[594] And try the soundness of my bones with laughter. How? is not this the chain of pearl I gave To that perjurèd harlot? ’tis, ’sfoot, ’tis, The very chain!—O damnèd mistress!—Ha! And this the purse which, not five days before, I sent her fill’d with fair spur-royals?[595] Heart, The very gold! ’Slife, is this no robbery? How many oaths flew toward heaven, Which ne’er came half-way thither, but, like fire-drakes,[596] Mounted a little, gave a crack, and fell: Feign’d oaths bound up to sink more deep to hell. What folded paper’s this? death, ’tis her hand!

[_reads_] _Master Tailby, you know with what affection I love you._ You do? _I count the world but as my prey to maintain you._ The more dissembling quean you, I must tell you. _I have sent you an embroidered purse here with fifty fair spur-royals in’t._ A pox on you for your labour, wench! _And I desire you of all loves to keep that chain of pearl from master Pursenet’s sight._ He cannot, strumpet; I behold it now, unto thy[597] secret torture. _So fare thee well, but be constant and want nothing_—as long as I ha’t, i’faith! methinks it should have gone so. Well, what a horrible age do we live in, that a man cannot have a quean to himself! let him but turn his back, the best of her is chipt away like a court loaf, that when a man comes himself, has nothing but bumbast; and these are two simple chippings here. Does my boy pick and I steal to enrich myself, to keep her, to maintain him? why, this is right the sequence of the world. A lord maintains her, she maintains a knight, he maintains a whore, she maintains a captain. So in like manner the pocket keeps my boy, he keeps me, I keep her, she keeps him; it runs like quicksilver from one to another. ’Sfoot, I perceive I have been the chief upholder of this gallant all this while: it appears true, we that pay dearest for our pasture[598] are ever likely worse used. ’Sfoot, he has a nag can run for nothing, has his choice, nay, and gets by the running of her.[599] O fine world, strange devils, and pretty damnable affections!

BOY [_within_]. Lela, ha, ho! PUR. There, boy, again; what news there?

_Re-enter Boy._

BOY. Master, hist,[600] master! PUR. How now, boy? BOY. I have descried a prize. PUR. Another, lad? BOY. The gull, the scholar. PUR. Master Bouser? BOY. Ay; comes along this way. PUR. Without company? BOY. As sure as he is your own. PUR. Back to thy place, boy. [_Exit Boy._ I have the luck to-day to rob in safety; Two precious cowards! Whist; I hear him.— _Enter_ FITSGRAVE. Stand! FIT. You lie; I came forth to go. PUR. Deliver your purse. FIT. ’Tis better in my pocket. PUR. How now? at disputations, signior fool? FIT. I’ve so much logic to confute a knave, A thief, a rogue! [_Attacks and strikes_ PURSENET _down_. PUR. Hold, hold, sir, and[601] you be a gentleman, hold! let me rise. FIT. Heart! ’Tis the courtesy of his scarf unmask’d him to me Above the lip by chance: I’ll counterfeit. [_Aside._

Light! because I am a scholar, you think belike that scholars have no metal in ’em, but you shall find,—I have not done with you, cousin. PUR. As you’re a gentleman! FIT. As you’re a rogue! PUR. Keep on upon your way, sir. FIT. You bade me stand—— PUR. I have been once down for that. FIT. And then deliver. PUR. Deliver me from you, sir!—O, pax[602] on’t, has wounded me!—Ela, ha, ho! my horse, my horse, boy! [_Exit._ FIT. Have you your boy so ready? O thou world, How art thou muffled in deceitful forms! There’s such a mist of these, and still hath been, The brightness of true gentry is scarce seen. This journey was most happily assign’d; I’ve[603] found him dross both in his means and mind. What paper’s this he dropt? I’ll look on’t as I go. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Near Combe Park._

_Enter_ PURSENET _and Boy_.

PUR. A gull call you him? let me always set upon wise men; they’ll be afraid of their lives; they have a feeling of their iniquities, and know[604] what ’tis to die with fighting: ’sfoot, this gull lays on without fear or wit. How deep’s it, sayst thou, boy? BOY. By my faith, three inches, sir. PUR. La, this was long of you, you rogue! BOY. Of me, sir? PUR. Forgive me, dear boy; my wound ached, and I grew angry: there’s hope of life, boy, is there not? BOY. Pooh, my life for yours! PUR. A comfortable boy in man’s extremes! I was ne’er so afraid in my life but the fool would have seen my face: he had me at such advantage, he might have commanded my scarf. I ’scaped well there; ’t’ad choked me; my reputation had been past recovery: yet live I unsuspected, and still fit for gallants’ choice societies. But here I vow, if e’er I see this Bouser when he cannot see me, either in by-lane, privilege[d] place, court, alley, or come behind him when he’s standing,[605] Or take him when he reels from a tavern late, Pissing again[606] a conduit, wall, or gate; When he’s in such a plight, and clear from me[n], I’ll do that I’m[607] asham’d to speak till then. [_Exit._

SCENE IV.

_A Street._

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE[608] _and Gentleman_.

FIT. Nay, read forward: I have found three of your gallants, like your bewitching shame,[609] merely sophistical: there’s your bawd-gallant, your pocket-gallant, and your whore-gallant. GEN. [_reads_] _Master Tailby._ FIT. That’s he. GEN. [_reads_] _I count the world but as my prey to maintain you._ FIT. That’s just the phrase and style of ’em all to him; they meet altogether in one effect, and it may well hold too, for they all jump upon one cause, _subaudi_ lechery. GEN. What shapes can flattery take! Let me entreat you, Both in the virgin’s right and our good hopes, Since your hours are so fortunate, to proceed. FIT. Why, he’s base that faints[610] until he crown his deed. [_Exit._

SCENE V.

_A Room in_ PRIMERO’S _House_.

_Enter_ PURSENET (_his arm in a scarf_) _and Boy, meeting First Courtesan_.

PUR. See that dissembling devil, that perjur’d strumpet! [_Aside._ FIRST C. Welcome, my soul’s best wish. O, out, alas! Thy arm bound in a scarf? I shall swoon instantly. PUR. Heart, and I’ll fetch you again in the same tune. [_Aside._

O my unmatch’d love, if any spark of life remain, Look up, my comfort, my delight, my—— FIRST C. O good, O good! PUR. The organ of her voice is tun’d again; There’s hope in women when their speech returns; See, like the moon after a black eclipse, She by degrees recovers her pure light. How cheers my love? FIRST C. As one new-wak’d out of a deadly trance, The fit scarce quiet. PUR. ’Twas terrible for the time; I’d much ado to fetch you. FIRST C. ’Shrew your fingers! [_Aside._ How came my comfort wounded? speak. PUR. Faith, in a fray last night. FIRST C. In a fray? will you lose your blood so vainly? Many a poor creature lacks it. Tell me how? What was the quarrel? PUR. Loath to tell you that. FIRST C. Loath to tell me? PUR. Yet ’twas my cause of coming. FIRST C. Why, then, must not I know it? PUR. Since you urge it, you shall, You’re a strumpet! FIRST C. O, news abroad, sir! PUR. Say you so? FIRST C. Why, you knew that the first night you lay with me. PUR. Nay, not to me only, but to the world. FIRST C. Speak within compass, man. PUR. Faith, you know none, you sail without. FIRST C. I have the better skill then. PUR. At my first step into a tavern-room, to spy That chain of pearl wound on a stranger’s arm You begg’d of me! FIRST C. How? you mistook it sure. PUR. By heaven, the very self-same chain! FIRST C. O, cry you mercy, ’tis true, I’d forgot it: ’tis St. George’s day to-morrow: I lent it to my cousin only to grace his arm before his mistress. PUR. Notable cunning! FIRST C. And is this all now, i’faith? PUR. Not; I durst go further. FIRST C. Why, let me never possess your love if you see not that again a’ Thursday morning: I take’t unkindly, i’faith, you should fall out with me for such a trifle. PUR. Better and better! FIRST C. Come, a kiss, and friends! PUR. Away! FIRST C. By this hand, I’ll spoil your arm and[611] you will not.

PUR. More for this than the devil——

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE, TAILBY, FITSGRAVE, BUNGLER, _and Courtesans_.

GOL. Yea, at your book so hard?[612] PUR. Against my will.—Are you there, signior Logic? A pox of you, sir! [_Aside._ GOL. Why, how now? what has fate sent us here, in the name of Venus, goddess of Cyprus? PUR. A freebooter’s pink, sir, three or four inches deep. GOL. No more? that’s conscionable, i’faith. TAI. Troth, I’m sorry for’t: pray, how came it, sir? PUR. Faith, by a paltry fray, in Coleman Street. FIT. Combe Park he would say. [_Aside._ PUR. No less than three at once, sir, Made a triangle with their swords and daggers, And all opposing me. FIT. And amongst those three only one hurt you, sir? PUR. Ex for ex.[613] TAI. Troth, and I’ll tell you what luck I had too, since I parted from you last. PUR. What, I pray? TAI. The day you offered to ride with me, I wish now I’d had your company: ’sfoot, I was set upon in Combe Park by three too. PUR. Bah! TAI. Robbed, by this light, of as much gold and jewels as I valued at forty pound. PUR. Sure Saturn is in the fifth house. TAI. I know not that; he may be in the sixth and[614] he will for me: I am sure they were in my pocket wheresoever they are;[615] but I’ll ne’er refuse a gentleman’s company again when ’tis offered me, I warrant you. GOL. I must remember you ’tis Mitre-night,[616] ladies. SEC. C. Mass, ’tis indeed Friday to-day, I’d quite forgot: when a woman’s busy, how the time runs away! FIRST C. O, you’ve betrayed us both! TAI. I understand you not. FIRST C. You’ve let him see the chain of pearl I gave you. TAI. Who? him? will you believe me, by this hand, He never saw it. FIRST C. Upon a stranger’s arm he swore to me. TAI. Mass, that may be; for the truth is, i’faith, I was robb’d on’t at Combe Park. FIRST. C. ’Twas that betrayed it. TAI. I would [I] had stay’d him; He was no stranger, he was a thief, i’faith, For thieves will be no strangers. FIRST C. How shall I excuse it? BUN. Nay, I have you fast enough, boy; you rogue! [_Seizing the Boy, who had attempted to pick his pocket._ BOY. Good sir, I beseech you, sir, let me go! [_Struggling._[617] BUN. A pickpocket? nay, you shall to Newgate, look you.— Is this your boy, sir? PUR. How now, boy? a monster? thy arm lined[618] fast in another’s pocket? where learnt you that manners? what company have you kept a’ late, that you are so transformed into a rogue? that shape I know not.— Believe me, sir, I much wonder at the alteration of this boy, where he should get this nature: as good a child to see to, and as virtuous; he has his creed by heart, reads me his chapter duly every night; he will not miss you one tittle in the nine commandments. BUN. There’s ten of ’em. PUR. I fear he skips o’er one, Thou shall not steal. BUN. Mass, like enough. PUR. Else grace and memory would quite abash the boy.— Thou graceless imp! ah, thou prodigious child, Begot at some eclipse, degenerate rogue, Shame to thy friends, and to thy master eke! How far digressing from the noble mind Of thy brave ancestors, that lie in marble With their coat-armours o’er ’em! BUN. Had he such friends? PUR. The boy is well descended, though he be a rogue, and has no feeling on’t; yet for my sake, and for my reputation’s, seek not the blood of the boy; he’s near allied to many men of worship now yet living; a fine old man to his father; it would kill his heart, i’faith; he’d away like a chrisom.[619] BUN. Alas, good gentleman! PUR. Ah, shameless villain, complain’st thou? dost thou want? BOY. No, no, no, no! PUR. Art not well clad? thy hunger well resisted? BOY. Yes, yes, yes, yes! PUR. But thou shalt straight to Bridewell—— BOY. Sweet master! PUR. Live upon bread and water and chap-choke. BOY. I beseech your worship! BUN. Come, I’ll be his surety for once. PUR. You shall excuse me indeed, sir. BUN. He will mend; ’a may prove an honest man for all this. I know gallant gentlemen now that have done as much as this comes to in their youth. PUR. Say you so, sir? BUN. And as for Bridewell, that will but make him worse; ’a will learn more knavery there in one week than will furnish him and his heirs for a hundred year. PUR. Deliver the boy! BUN. Nay, I tell you true, sir; there’s none goes in there a quean, but she comes out an arrant whore, I warrant you. PUR. The boy comes not there for a million! BUN. No, you had better forgive him by ten parts. PUR. True; but ’a must not know it comes from me.— Down a’ your knees, you rogue, And thank this gentleman has got your pardon. BOY. O, I thank your worship! PUR. A pox on you for a rogue; You put me to my set speech once a quarter. [_Aside to him._ GOL. Nay, gentlemen, you quite forget your hour; Lead, master Bouser. [_Exeunt all but_ GOLDSTONE _and Second Courtesan_. SEC. C. Let me go: you’re a dissembler. GOL. How? SEC. C. Did not you promise me a new gown? GOL. Did I not? yes, faith, did I, and thou shalt have it.—Go, sirrah, [_calling to one off the stage_] run for a tailor presently. Let me see for the colour now: orange-tawney, peach colour—what sayst to a watchet[620] satin?

_Enter Tailor._

SEC. C. O, ’tis the only colour I affect! TAI. A very orient colour, an’t please your worships. I made a gown on’t for a gentlewoman t’other day, and it does passing well upon her. GOL. A watchet satin gown—— TAI. There your worship left, sir. GOL. Laid about, tailor—— TAI. Very good, sir. GOL. With four fair laces. TAI. That will be costly, sir. GOL. How, you rogue, costly? out a’ th’ house, you slipshod, sham-legged, brown-thread-penny-skeined rascal! SEC. C. Nay, my sweet love—— [_Exit Tailor._ GOL. Hang him, rogue! he’s but a botcher neither: come, I’ll send thee a fellow worth a hundred of this, if the slave were clean enough. [_Exeunt._

ACT IV. SCENE I.

_Before_ TAILBY’S _Lodging_.

_Enter a Servant[621] bringing in a suit of satin, who knocks at_ TAILBY’S _door, from which enter_ JACK.

JACK. Who knocks? SER. A Christian: pray, is not this master Tailby’s lodging? I was directed hither. JACK. Yes, this is my master’s lodging. SER. Cry you mercy, sir: is he yet stirring? JACK. He’s awake, but not yet stirring, for he played away half his clothes last night. SER. My mistress commends her secrets unto him, and presents him by me with a new satin suit here. JACK. Mass, that comes happily. SER. And she hopes the fashion will content him. JACK. There’s no doubt to be had of that, sir: your mistress’ name, I pray? you’re much preciously welcome. SER. I thank you uncommonly, sir. JACK. The suit shall be accepted, I warrant you, sir. SER. That’s all my mistress desires, sir. JACK. Fare you well, sir. SER. Fare you well, sir. [_Exit._ JACK. This will make my master leap out of the bed for joy, and dance Wigmore’s galliard[622] in his shirt about the chamber![623] [_Exit into the house._

SCENE II.

_A Hall in_ TAILBY’S _Lodging_.

_Enter_ TAILBY, _and_ JACK _trussing him_.[624]

TAI. Came this suit from mistress Cleveland? JACK. She sent it secretly, sir. TAI. A pretty requiteful squall! I like that woman that can remember a good turn three months after the date; it shews both a good memory and a very feeling spirit. JACK. This came fortunately, sir, after all your ill luck last night. TAI. I’d beastly casting, Jack. JACK. O abominable, sir! you had the scurviest hand: the old serving-man swooped up all. TAI. I am glad the fortune lighted upon the poor fellow, by my troth; it made his master mad. JACK. Did you mark that, sir? I warrant he has the doggedest master of any poor fellow under the dog-sign: I’d rather serve your worship, I’ll say that behind your back, sir, for nothing, as indeed I have no standing wages at all, your worship knows. TAI. O, but your vails, Jack, your vails considered, when you run to and fro between me and mistresses—— JACK. I must confess my vails are able to keep an honest man, go I where I list. TAI. Go to then, Jack. JACK. But those vails stand with the state of your body, sir, as long as you hold up your head: if that droop once, farewell you, farewell I, farewell all; and droop it will, though all the caudles in Europe should put to their helping hands to’t: ’tis e’en as uncertain as playing, now up and now down;[625] for if the bill down rise to above thirty, here’s no place for players; so if your years rise to above forty, there’s no room for old lechers. TAI. And that’s[626] the reason all rooms are taken up for young templars. JACK. You’re in the right, sir. TAI. Pize on’t, I pawned a good beaver hat to master Frip last night, Jack: I feel the want of it now. Hark, who’s that knocks? [_Knocking within._

_Enter a Servant, bringing in a letter and a beaver hat._

SER. Is master Tailby stirring? JACK. What’s your pleasure with him? he walks here i’ th’ hall. SER. Give your worship good morrow. TAI. Welcome, honest lad. SER. A letter from my mistress. TAI. Who’s thy mistress? SER. Mistress Newblock. TAI. Mistress Newblock, my sincere love! how does she? SER. Faith, only ill in the want of your sight. TAI. Alas, dear sweet! I’ve had such business, I protest I ne’er stood still since I saw her. SER. She has sent your worship a beaver hat here, with a band best in fashion. TAI. How shall I requite this dear soul? SER. ’Tis not a thing fit for me to tell you, sir, for I have three years to serve yet: your worship knows how, I warrant you. TAI. I know the drift of her letter; and for the beaver, say I accept it highly. SER. O, she will be a proud woman of that, sir! TAI. And hark thee; tell thy mistress, as I’m a gentleman, I’ll despatch her out of hand the first thing I do, a’ my credit: canst thou remember these words now? SER. Yes, sir; as you are a gentleman, you’ll despatch her out of hand the first thing you do. TAI. Ay, a’ my credit. SER. O, of your credit; I thought not of that, sir. TAI. Remember that, good boy. SER. Fear it not now, sir. [_Exit._ TAI. I dreamt to-night, Jack, I should have a secret supply out a’ th’ city. JACK. Your dream crawls out partly well, sir.—

_Enter a Servant, bringing in a purse._

What news there now? SER. I have an errand to master Tailby. JACK. Yonder walks my master. SER. Mistress Tiffany commends her to your worship, and has sent you your ten pound in gold back again, and says she cannot furnish you of the same lawn you desire till after All-holland-tide.[627] TAI. Thank her she would let me understand so much. [_Exit Servant._]—Ha, ha! This wench will live: why, this was sent like a Workwoman now; the rest are botchers to her. Faith, I commend her cunning: she’s a fool That makes her servant fellow to her heart; It robs her of respect, dams up all duty, Keeps her in awe e’en of the slave she keeps: This takes a wise course—I commend her more— Sends back the gold I never saw before. Well, women are my best friends [still], i’faith. Take[628] lands: give me Good legs, firm back, white hand, black eye, brown hair, And add but to these five a comely stature; Let others live by art, and I by nature. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Room, with a door opening into_ FITSGRAVE’S _Bed-chamber_.

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE.

GOL. Master Bouser, master Bouser! ha, ha, ho! master Bouser! FIT. [_within_] Holla! GOL. What, not out of thy kennel, master Bouser? FIT. [_within_] Master Goldstone? you’re an early gallant, sir. GOL. A fair cloak yonder, i’faith. [_Aside._]—By my troth, ’a bed, master Bouser? you remember your promise well o’ernight! FIT. [_within_] Why, what’s a’ clock, sir? GOL. Do you ask that now? why, the chimes are spent at Saint Bride’s. FIT. [_within_] ’Tis a gentleman’s hour: faith, master Goldstone, I’ll be ready in a trice. GOL. Away, there’s no trust to you! FIT. [_within_] Faith, I’ll come instantly. GOL. Nay, choose whether you will or no,—by my troth, your cloak shall go before you. [_Aside, and takes_ FITSGRAVE’S _cloak_. FIT. [_within_] Nay, master Goldstone, I ha’ sworn: do you hear, sir? GOL. Away, away! faith, I’m angry with you: pox, a-bed now! I’m ashamed of it. [_Exit._

_As_ GOLDSTONE _goes out_, FITSGRAVE _enters in his shirt_.

FIT. Foot, my cloak, my cloak, master Goldstone! ’slife, what mean you by this, sir? you’ll bring it back again, I hope. No? not yet? by my troth, I care very little for such kind of jesting: methinks this familiarity now extends a little too far, unless it be a new fashion come forth this morning secretly; yesterday ’twould have shewn unmannerly and saucily. I scarce know yet what to think on’t. Well, there’s no great profit in standing in my shirt, I’ll on with my clothes: has bound me to follow the suit: my cloak’s a stranger; he was made but yesterday, and I do not love to trust him alone in company. [_Exit._

SCENE IV.

A Street.

_Enter_ FRIPPERY, _wearing_ FITSGRAVE’S _cloak_.

FRI. What may I conjecture of this Goldstone? he has not only pawned to me this cloak, but the very diamond and sapphire which I bestowed upon my new love at master Primero’s house: the cloak’s new, and comes fitly to do me great grace at a wedding this morning, to which I was solemnly invited. I can continue change more than the proudest gallant of ’em all, yet never bestow penny of myself, my pawns do so kindly furnish me: but the sight of these jewels is able to cloy me, did I not preserve my stomach the better for the wedding-dinner. A gift could never have come in a more patient hour, nor to be better disgested.[629] Is she proved false?

But I’ll not fret to-day nor chafe my blood.

_Enter_ PURSENET.

PUR. Ha! yonder goes Bouser: the place is fit.— [_Calling out to Boy within._] Boy, stand with my horse at corner.—

I owe you for a pink three inches deep, sir. [_Strikes down_ FRIPPERY. FRI. O—O—O! PUR. Take that in part of payment for Combe Park. [_Exit._ Fri. O—O—O!

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.

FIT. How now, who’s this? ’sfoot, one of our gallants knocked down like a calf! Is there such a plague of ’em here at London, they begin to knock ’em a’ th’ head already? FRI. O master Bouser! pray, lend me your hand, sir; I am slain! FIT. Slain and alive? O cruel execution! What man so savage-spirited durst presume To strike down satin on two taffetas cut, Or lift his hand against a beaver hat? FRI. Some rogue that owes me money, and had no other means. To a wedding-dinner! I must be dressed myself, methinks. FIT. How? why, this [is] my cloak: life, how came my cloak hither? FRI. Is it yours, sir? master Goldstone pawned it to me this morning fresh and fasting, and borrowed five pound upon’t. FIT. How, pawned it? pray, let me hear out this story: come, and I’ll lead[630] you to the next barber-surgeon’s.—Pawned my cloak? [_Exit, leading out_ FRIPPERY.

SCENE V.

_Another Street._

_Enter_ BUNGLER, GOLDSTONE, _and_ MARMADUKE.

BUN. How now, Marmaduke? what’s the wager? MAR. Nay, my care is at end, sir, now I am come to the sight of you. My mistress, your cousin, entreats you to take part of a dinner with her at her house,[631] and bring what gentleman you please to accompany you. BUN. Thank my sweet coz: I’ll munch with her, say. MAR. I’ll tell her so. BUN. Marmaduke—— MAR. Sir? BUN. Will there be any stock-fish, thinkest thou? MAR. How, sir? BUN. Tell my coz I’ve a great appetite to stock-fish, i’faith. [_Exit_ MARMADUKE.]—Master Goldstone, I’ll entreat you to be the gentleman that shall accompany me. GOL. Not me, sir? BUN. You, sir. GOL.[632] By my troth, concluded. What state bears thy coz, sirrah? BUN. O, a fine merchant’s wife. GOL. Or rather, a merchant’s fine wife. BUN. Trust me, and that’s the properer phrase here at London; and ’tis as absurd too to call him fine merchant, for, being at sea, a man knows not what pickle he is in. GOL. Why, true. BUN. Yet my coz will be served in plate, I can tell you; she has her silver jugs and her gilt tankards. GOL. Fie! BUN. Nay, you shall see a house dressed up, i’faith; you must not think to tread a’ th’ ground when you come there. GOL. No? how then? BUN. Why, upon paths made of fig-frails[633] and white blankets cut out in steaks.[634] GOL. Away!—I have thought of a device. [_Aside._]—Where shall we meet an hour hence? BUN. In Paul’s. GOL. Agreed. [_Exit_ BUNGLER.

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.

FIT. The broker-gallant and the cheating-gallant: Now I have found ’em all, I so rejoice, That the redeeming of my cloak I weigh not. I have spied him. GOL. Pax,[635] here’s Bouser. FIT. Master Goldstone, my cloak! come, where’s my cloak, sir? GOL. O, you’re a sure gentleman, especially if a man stand in need of you! he may be slain in a morning to breakfast ere you vouchsafe to peep out of your lodging. FIT. How? GOL. No less than four gallants, as I’m a gentleman, drew all upon me at once, and opposed me so spitefully, that I not only lost your cloak i’ th’ fray—— FIT. Comes it in there? GOL. But my rich hangers,[636] sirrah,—I think thou hast seen ’em. FIT. Never, i’faith, sir. GOL. Those with the two unicorns, all wrought in pearl and gold: pox on’t, it frets me ten times more than the loss of the paltry cloak: prithee, and[637] thou lovest me, speak no more on’t; it brings the unicorns into my mind, and thou wouldst not think how the conceit grieves me. I will not do thee that disgrace, i’faith, to offer thee any satisfaction, for in my soul I think thou scornest it; thou bearest that mind, in my conscience; I have always said so of thee. Fare thee well: when shall I see thee at my chamber, when? FIT. Every day, shortly. GOL. I have fine toys to shew thee. FIT. You win my heart then. [_Exit_ GOLDSTONE.] The devil scarce knew what a portion he gave his children when he allowed ’em large impudence to live upon, and so turned ’em into th’ world: surely he gave away the third part of the riches of his kingdom; revenues are but fools to’t. The filed[638] tongue and the undaunted forehead Are mighty patrimonies, wealthier than those The city-sire or the court-father leaves: In these behold it: riches oft, like slaves, Revolt; they bear their foreheads to their graves. What soonest grasps advancement, men’s[639] great suits, Trips down rich widows, gains repute and name, Makes way where’er it comes, bewitches all? Thou, Impudence! the minion of our days, On whose pale cheeks favour and fortune plays. Call you these your five gallants? trust me, they’re rare fellows: They live on nothing; many cannot live on something; Here they may take example.—Suspectless virgin, How easy had thy goodness been beguil’d! Now only rests, that as to me they’re known, So to the world their base arts may be shewn. _Exit._

SCENE VI.

_The Middle Aisle of St. Paul’s._[640]

_Enter_ PURSENET _and Boy_.

PUR. Art sure thou sawest him receive’t, boy? BOY. Forty pound in gold, as I’m a gentleman born. PUR. Thy father gave the ram’s head,[641] boy? BOY. No, you’re deceived; my mother gave that, sir. PUR. What’s thy mother’s is thy father’s.

_Enter_ PYAMONT.

BOY. I’m sorry it holds in the ram’s head. See, here he walks; I was sure he came into Paul’s: the gold had been yours, master, long ere this, but that he wears both his hands in his pockets. PUR. How unfortunately is my purpose seated! what the devil should come in his mind to keep in his hands so long? the biting but of a paltry louse would do me great kindness now; I’d know[642] not how to requite it: will no rascal creature assist me? Stay, what if I did impudently salute ’em out? good. Boy, be ready, boy. BOY. Upon the least advantage, sir. PUR. You’re most devoutly met in Paul’s, sir. PY. So are you, but I scarce remember you, sir. PUR. O, I cry you mercy, sir; I pray, pardon me; I fear I have tendered an offence, sir: troth, I took you at the first for one master Dumpling, a Norfolk gentleman. [_While_ PURSENET _speaks, the Boy watches in vain for an opportunity to pick_ PYAMONT’S _pocket_. PY. There’s no harm done yet, sir. PUR. I hope he is there by this time. [_Aside._]—How now, boy, hast it? BOY. No, by troth, have I not; this labour’s lost: ’tis in the right pocket, and he kept that hand in sure enough. PUR. Unpractised gallant! salute me but with one hand, like a counterfeit soldier? O times and manners! are we grown beasts? do we salute by halves? are not our limbs at leisure? Where’s comely nurture? the Italian kiss, Or the French cringe, with the Polonian waist? Are all forgot? Then misery follows.—Surely fate forbade it: Had he employ’d but his right hand, I’d had it.

_Enter_ BUNGLER.

It must be an everlasting device, I think, that procures both his hands out at once. [_Aside, and exit with Boy._ PY. Do you walk, sir?[643] BUN. No, I stay a little for a gentleman’s coming too.

PY. Farewell then, sir: I have forty pound in gold about me, which I must presently send down into the country. BUN. Fare you well, sir. [_Exit_ PYAMONT.]—I wonder master Goldstone spares my company so long; ’tis now about the navel of the day, upon the belly of noon.

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE _and_ FULK, _both disguised_.

GOL. See where he walks: be sure you let off at a twinkling, now. FULK. When did I miss you?—Your worship has forgot you promised mistress Newcut, your cousin, to dine with her this day. GOL. Mass, that was well remembered. BUN. I am bold to salute you, sir. GOL. Sir? BUN. Is mistress Newcut your cousin, sir? GOL. Yes, she’s a cousin of mine, sir. BUN. Then I am a cousin of yours, by the sister’s side. GOL. Let me salute you then; I shall be glad of your farther acquaintance. BUN. I am a bidden guest there too. GOL. Indeed, sir! BUN. Faith, invited this morning. GOL. Your good company shall be kindly embraced, sir. BUN. I walk a turn or two here for a gentleman, but I think he’ll either overtake me, or be before me. GOL. ’Tis very likely, sir.—There, sirrah, go to dinner, and about two wait for me. BUN. Nay, let him come between two and three, cousin, for we love to sit long at dinner i’ th’ city. GOL. Come, sweet cousin. BUN. Nay, cousin; keep your way, cousin; good cousin, I will not, i’faith, cousin. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VII.

_A Room in_ MISTRESS NEWCUT’S _House_: MARMADUKE _laying the cloth for dinner_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS NEWCUT.

MIS. N. Why, how now, sirrah? upon twelve of the clock, and not the cloth laid yet? must we needs keep Exchange time still? MAR. I am about it, forsooth. MIS. N. You’re about it, forsooth? you’re still about many things, but you ne’er do one well. I am an ass to keep thee in th’ house, now my husband’s at sea; thou hast no audacity with thee; a foolish, dreaming lad, fitter to be in the garret than in any place else; no grace nor manly behaviour: when didst thou ever come to me but with thy head hanging down? O decheerful ’prentice, uncomfortable servant! [_Exit_ MARMADUKE.]— Pray heaven the gull, my cousin, has so much wit left as to bring master Tailby along with him, my comfort, my delight! for that was the chiefest cause I did invite him. I bade him bring what gentleman he pleased to accompany him; as far as I durst go: why may he not then make choice of master Tailby? had he my wit or feeling he would do’t.

_Enter_ BUNGLER, _and_ GOLDSTONE _disguised_.

BUN. Where’s my sweet cousin here? does she lack any guess?[644] MIS. N. Ever such guess as you: you’re welcome, cousin. GOL. I am rude, lady. MIS. N. You’re most welcome, sir. BUN. There will be a gallant here anon, coz; he promised faithfully. MIS. N. Who is’t? master Tailby? BUN. Master Tailby? no, master Goldstone. MIS. N. Master Goldstone? I could think well of that Goldstone were’t not for one vild[645] trick he has. GOL. What’s that, lady? MIS. N. In jest he will pawn his punks for suppers. GOL. That’s a vild part in him, i’faith, and[646] he were my brother. MIS. N. Pray, gentlemen, sit awhile; your dinner shall come presently. [_Exit._ GOL. Yea, mistress Newcut? at first give me a trip? A close bite always asks a secret nip. [_Aside._ BUN. My cousin here is a very kind-natured soul, i’faith, in her humour. GOL. Pooh, you know her not so well as I, coz; I have observed her in all her humours; you ne’er saw her a little waspish, I think. BUN. I have [not], i’faith. GOL. Pooh, then ye ne’er saw pretty humour in your life; I can bring her into’t when I list. BUN. Would you could, i’faith! GOL. Would I could? by my troth, and I were sure thou couldst keep thy countenance, coz, what a pretty jest have I thought upon already to entertain time before dinner! BUN. Prithee, coz, what is’t? I love a jest a’ life,[647] i’faith. GOL. Ah, but I am jealous[648] you will not keep your countenance, i’faith! Why, ye shall see a pretty story of a humour.[649] Faith, I’ll try you for once: you know my cousin will wonder when she comes in to see the cloth laid, and ne’er a salt upon the board. BUN. That’s true, i’faith. GOL. Now will I stand a while out of sight with it, and give her humour play a little. BUN. Coz, dost thou love me? and thou wilt ever do any thing for me, do’t. GOL. Marry, I build upon you[r] countenance. BUN. Why, dost thou think I’m an ass, coz? GOL. I would be loath to undertake it else; for if you should burst out presently, coz, the jest would be spoiled. BUN. Why, do not I know that? Away, stand close: [_exit_ GOLDSTONE _with the salt-cellar_] so, so; mum, cousin.—A merry companion, i’faith: here will be good sport anon,— whist, she comes.

_Re-enter_ MISTRESS NEWCUT.

MIS. N. I make you stay[650] long for a bad dinner here, cousin; if master Goldstone were come, the meat’s e’en ready. BUN. Some great business detains him, cousin; but he’ll not be long now. MIS. N. Why, how now? cuds my life!—— BUN. Why—— MIS. N. Was ever mistress so plagued with a shuttle-headed servant!—Why, Marmaduke!

_Re-enter_ MARMADUKE.

MAR. I come, forsooth. MIS. N. Able to shame me from generation to generation! MAR. Did you call, forsooth? MIS. N. Come hither, forsooth: did you lay this cloth? MAR. Yes, forsooth. MIS. N. Do you use to lay a cloth without a salt, a salt, a salt, a salt, a salt, a salt! MAR. How many salts would you have? I’m sure I set the best i’ th’ house upon the board. BUN. How, cousin? [_sings_] _Cousin, cousin, did call, coz?_ MIS. N. Did you see a salt upon the board when you came in? BUN. Pooh! MIS. N. Come, come, I thought as much; beshrew your fingers, where is’t now? BUN. Your cousin yonder—— MIS. N. Why, the man’s mad! BUN. Cousin, hist, cousin! MIS. N. What say you? BUN. Pooh, I call not you, I call my cousin.—Come forth with the salt, cousin! Ha! how? nobody? Why, was not he that came in e’en now your cousin? MIS. N. My cousin? O my bell-salt, O my great bell-salt!

_Re-enter_ GOLDSTONE _in his own dress_.

BUN. The tenor bell-salt. O, here comes master Goldstone now, cousin; he may tell us some news on him.— Did you not meet a fellow about door with a great silver salt under his arm? GOL. No, sure; I met none such. MIS. N. Pardon me, sir, I forgot all this while to bid you welcome. I shall loathe this room for ever. Take hence the cloth, you unlucky, maple-faced[651] rascal.— Come, you shall dine in my chamber, sir. GOL. No better place, lady. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VIII.

_A Street._

_Enter_ PYAMONT.

PY. No less than forty pound in fair gold at one lift! the next shall swoon and swoon again till the devil fetch him, ere I set hand to him. Heart, nothing vexes me so much, but that I paid the goldsmith[652] for the change too not an hour before: had I let it alone in the chain of silver as it was at first, it might have given me some notice at his departure: ’sfoot, I could fight with a windmill now. Sure ’twas some unlucky villain: why should he come and salute me wrongfully too, mistake me at noonday? Now I think on’t in cold blood, it could not be but an induction to some villanous purpose: well, I shall meet him——

_Enter_ PURSENET.

PUR. This forty pound came fortunately to redeem my chain of pearl from mortgage: I would not care how often I swooned[653] to have such a good caudle[654] to comfort me; gold and pearl are[655] very restorative.

PY. See, yonder’s the rogue I suspect for foul play! I’ll walk muffled by him, offer some offence or cause of a quarrel, only to try his temper; if he be a coward, he’s the likelier to be a rogue, an infallible note. [_Jostles_ PURSENET. PUR. What a pox ail you, sir? would I had been aware of you! PY. Sir, speak you to me? PUR. Not I, sir: pray, keep on your way; I have nothing to say to you. PY. You’re a rascal! PUR. You may say your pleasure, sir; but I hope I go not like a rascal. PY. Are you fain to fly to your clothes because you’re gallant? why, there’s no rascal like your gallant rascal, believe that. PUR. You have took me at such an hour, faith, you may call me e’en what you please; nothing will move me. PY. No? I’ll make somewhat move you. Draw! I suspected you were a rogue, and you have purst it up well with a coward! PUR. Who, my patron? PY. Keep out, you rascal! PUR. The guest that did me the kindness in Paul’s? Hold! as you are a gentleman; you’ll give me breath, sir? [_Exit running; and as he goes out, drops the chain of pearl._ PY. Are you there with me? a vengeance stop you! You have found breath enough to run away from me. I will never meet this slave hereafter in a morning but I will breathe myself upon him; since I can have no other satisfaction, he shall save me that forty pound in fence-school. [_Exit._

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE.

GOL. When things are cleanly carried, sign of judgment: I was the welcom’st gallant to her alive After the salt was stolen; then a good dinner, A fine provoking meal, which drew on apace The pleasure of a day-bed, and I had it; This here one ring can witness: when I parted, Who but _sweet master Goldstone_? I left her in that trance. What cannot wit, so it be impudent, Devise and compass? I’d[656] fain know that fellow now That would suspect me but for what I am; He lives not: ’Tis all in the conveyance.[657] What! thou look’st not Like a beggar: what mak’st thou on the ground? I’ve[658] a hand to help thee up: a fair chain of pearl! [_Takes up the chain of pearl which_ PURSENET _had dropt_. Surely a merchant’s wife gives lucky handsel: They that find pearl may wear’t at a cheap rate; Marry, my lady dropt it from her arm For a device to tole me to her bed: I’ve seen as great a matter.—Who be these? I’ll be too crafty for you.—

_Enter_ PRIMERO _and_ FRIPPERY.

O monsieur Primero, signior Frip; is it you, gallants?' FRI. Sweet master Goldstone! [_They talk apart._

_Enter_ TAILBY _and two Constables_.

TAI. Every bawd exceeds me in fortune: master Primero was robbed of a carkanet[659] upon Monday last; laid[660] the goldsmiths, and found it. I ha’ laid goldsmith,[661] jeweller, burnisher, broker, and the devil and all, I think, yet could never so much as hear of that chain of pearl: he was a notable thief; he works close. Peace, who be these? ha, let me see. By this light, there it is! Back, lest they see thee: a happy minute! Goldstone? What an age do we breathe in! who that saw him now would think he were maintained by purses? so, who that meets me would think I were maintained by wenches? As far as I can see, ’tis all one case, and holds both in one court; we are both maintained by the common roadway! Keep thou thine own heart, thou livest unsuspected. I leese[662] you again now. GOL. But, I pray you, tell me, Met you no gentlewomen by the way you came? FRI. Not any: what should they be? GOL. Nay, I do but ask, Because a gentlewoman’s glove was found Near to the place I met you. PRI. Faith, we saw none, sir. TAI. Good officers, upon suspicion of felony. S. CON. Very good, sir. F. CON. What call you the thief’s name you do suspect? TAI. Master Justinian Goldstone. F. CON. Remember, master Justice Goldstone; a terrible world the whilst, my masters! TAI. Look you, that’s he: upon him, officers! F. CON. I see him not yet; which is he, sir? TAI. Why, that. F. CON. He a thief, sir? who, that gentleman i’ th’ satin? TAI. E’en he. F. CON. Farewell, sir; you’re a merry gentleman. TAI. As you will answer it, officers! I’ll bear you out, I’ll be your warrant. F. CON. Nay, and[663] you say so—what’s his name then? TAI. Justinian Goldstone. F. CON. Master Justinian Goldstone, we apprehend you, sir, upon suspicion of felony. GOL. Me? TAI. You, sir. S. CON. I charge you, in the king’s name, gentlemen, to assist us. GOL. Master Tailby! TAI. The same man, sir. GOL. Life, what’s the news? TAI. Ha’ you forgot Combe Park? GOL. Combe Park? no, ’tis in Kingston way. TAI. I believe you’ll find it so. GOL. I not deny it. F. CON. Bear witness, has confessed. GOL. What have I confessed? Pair of coxcombs indubitable! TAI. I was robb’d finely of this chain of pearl there, And forty fair spur-royals.[664] GOL. Did I rob you? TAI. There where I find my goods I may suspect, sir. FRI. I dreamt this would be his end. [_Aside._ GOL. See how I am wrong’d, gentlemen: As I’ve[665] a soul, I found this chain of pearl Not three yards from this place, just when I met you. TAI. Ha, ha! FRI. Yet the law’s such, if he but swear ’tis you, You’re gone. GOL. Pox on’t, that e’er I saw’t! FRI. Can you but swear ’tis he? do but that, and you tickle him, i’faith. TAI. Nay, and[666] it come once to swearing, let me alone. FRI. Say, and hold; he called my jewels counterfeit, and so cheated the poor wench of ’em. F. CON. Come, bring him away, come. GOL. ’Twill call my state in question.

_Re-enter_ PURSENET.

PUR. I think what’s got by theft doth never prosper; Now lost my chain of pearl.—Come, master Goldstone, Let go; ’tis[667] mine, i’faith. GOL. The chain of pearl? PUR. By my troth, it’s mine. GOL. By my troth, much good do’t you, sir. FRI. I’m glad in my soul, sir.[668] F. CON. Deliver your weapons. PUR. How? F. CON. You’re apprehended upon suspicion of felony. PUR. Felony? what’s that? TAI. Was it you, i’faith, sir, all this while, that did me that kindness to ease both my pockets at Combe Park? PUR. I, sir? Pray, gentlemen, draw near; let’s talk among ourselves.—Stand apart, scoundrel.—Must every gentleman be upbraided in public that flies out now and then upon necessity, to be themes for pedlars and weavers? This should not be; ’twas never seen among the Romans, nor read we of it in the time of Brute: are we more brutish now? Did I list to blab, do not I know your course of life, master Tailby, to be as base as the basest, maintained by me, by him, by all of us, and ’a second-hand from mistresses? I’ve their letters here to shew. Why should you be so violent to strip naked Another’s reputation to the world, Knowing your own so leprous? Beside, this chain of pearl and those spur-royals[669] Came to you falsely; for she broke her faith, And made her soul a strumpet with her body, When she sent those; they were ever justly mine.— Pray, what moves you, sir? why should you shake your head? you’re clear; sure I should know you, sir: pray, are not you sometimes a pander, and oftener a bawd, sir? have I never sinned in your banqueting boxes, your bowers and towers? You slave, that keeps fornication upon the tops of trees! the very birds cannot engender in quiet for you: why, rogue, that goes in good clothes made out of wenches’ cast gowns—— PRI. Nothing goes so near my heart as that. PUR. Do you shake your slave’s noddle? TAI. And here’s a rascal, look, a’ ’s way[670] too—saving the presence of master Goldstone—a filthy-slimy-lousy-nittical broker, pricked up in pawns from the hat-band to the shoe-string; a necessary hook to hang gentlemen’s suits out i’ th’ air, lest they should grow musty with long lying, which his pawns seldom are guilty of; a fellow of several scents and steams, French, Dutch, Italian, English, and therefore his lice must needs be mongrels: why, bill-money—— GOL. I am sorry to hear this among you: you’ve all deceived me; truly I took you for other spirits. You must pardon me henceforward; I have a reputation to look to; I must be no more seen in your companies. FRI. Nay, nay, nay, nay, master Goldstone, you must not ’scape so, i’faith; one word before you go, sir. GOL. Pray, despatch then; I would not for half my revenues, i’faith, now, that any gallants should pass by in the meantime, and find me in your companies; nay, as quick as you can, sir. FRI. You did not take away master Bouser’s cloak t’other morning, pawned it to me, and borrowed five pound upon’t? GOL. Ha! FRI. ’Twas not you neither that finely cheated my little novice at master Primero’s house of a diamond and sapphire, and swore they were counterfeit, both glass, mere glass, as you were a right gentleman? GOL. ’Slife, why were we strangers all this while? ’Sfoot, I perceive we are all natural brothers! A pox on’s all, are we found, i’faith? FRI. A cheater! GOL. A thief, a lecher, a bawd, and a broker! F. CON. What mean they to be so merry? I’m afraid they laugh at us, and make fools on’s. GOL. Push,[671] leave it to me.—How now, who would you speak withal? F. CON. Speak withal! Have we waited all this while for a suspected thief? GOL. How? You’re scarce awake yet, I think: look well, does any appear like a thief in this company? Away, you slaves! you stand loitering when you should look to the commonwealth: you catch knaves apace now, do you not? they may walk by your nose, you rascals! [_Exeunt Constables._ ALL. Sweet master Goldstone! GOL. You lacked spirit in your company till I came among you: here be five on’s; let’s but glue together, why now the world shall not come between us. PUR. If we be true among ourselves. GOL. Why, true; we cannot lack to be rich, for we cannot lack riches, nor can our wenches want, nor we want wenches. PRI. Let me alone to furnish you with them. TAI. And me. GOL. There’s one care past: and as for the knight’s daughter, Our chiefest business, and least thought upon— PUR. That’s true, i’faith. TAI. How shall we agree for her? GOL. With as much ease As for the rest. To-morrow brings the night: Let’s all appear in the best shape we may; Troth is, we have need on’t: And when amongst us five she makes election, As one she shall choose— PUR. True, she cannot [but] choose. GOL. That one so fortunate amongst us five Shall bear himself more portly, live regarded, Keep house, and be a countenance to the rest. ALL. Admirable![672] GOL. For instance; Put case yourself, after some robbery done, Were pursu’d hardly, why there were your shelter, You know your sanctuary; nay, say you were taken, His letter to the justice will strike’t dead: ’Tis policy to receive one for the head. ALL. Let’s hug thee, Goldstone. GOL. What have I begot? PUR. What, sir? GOL. I must plot for you all; it likes[673] me rarely. TAI. Prithee, what is’t, sir? GOL. ’Twould strike Fitsgrave pale, And make the other suitors appear blanks. FRI. For our united mysteries. GOL. What if we five presented our full shapes In a strange-gallant and conceited masque? PUR. In a masque? your thoughts and mine were twins. TAI. So the device were subtle, nothing like it. FRI. Some poet must assist us. GOL. Poet? You’ll take the direct line to have us stag’d.[674] Are you too well, too safe? Why, what lacks Bouser? An absolute scholar; easy to be wrought, No danger in the operation. PUR. But have you so much interest? GOL. What, in Bouser? Why, my least word commands him. TAI. Then no man fitter. PUR. And there’s master Frip too Can furnish us of masquing suits enow. FRI. Upon sufficient pawn, I think I can, sir. PUR. Pawn? Jew, here, take my chain: pawns among brothers? We shall thrive![675] But we must still expect one rogue in five, And think us happy too.

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.

GOL. Last man we spoke on, master Bouser. PUR. Little master Bouser.[676] TAI. Sweet master Bouser—— FRI. Welcome, i’faith. FIT. Are your fathers dead, gentlemen, you’re so merry? GOL. By my troth, a good jest! Did not I commend his wit to you, gentlemen? Hark, sirrah Ralph Bouser, cousin Bouser, i’faith, there’s a kind of portion in town, a girl of fifteen hundred, whom we all powerfully affect, and determine to present our parts to her in a masque. FIT. In a masque? GOL. Right, sir: now, a little of thy brain for a device to present us firm, which we shall never be able to do ourselves, thou knowest that; and with a kind of speech wherein thou mayst express what gallants are, bravely. FIT. Pooh, how can I express ’em otherwise but bravely? Now for a Mercury, and all were fitted. PUR. Could not a boy supply it? FIT. Why, none better. PUR. I have a boy shall put down all the Mercuries i’ th’ town; ’a will play a Mercury naturally, at his fingers’ end[s], i’faith. FIT. Why then we are suited: for torch-bearers and shield-boys, those are always the writer’s properties;[677] you’re not troubled with them.

GOL. Come, my little Bouser, do’t finely now, to the life. FIT. I warrant you, gentlemen. FRI. Hist; give me a little touch above the rest, and[678] you can possible, for I mean to present this chain of pearl to her. FIT. Now I know that, let me alone to fit you. [_Exeunt._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_A Chamber._[679]

_Enter Courtesans and_ MISTRESS NEWCUT.

FIRST C. Come forth, you wary, private-whispering strumpet! Have we found your close haunts, your private watch-towers, and your subtle means? MIS. N. How then? SEC. C. You can steal secretly hither, you mystical quean you, at twilight, twitter-lights![680] You have a privilege from your hat,[681] forsooth, To walk without a man, and no suspicion; But we poor gentlewomen that go in tires Have no such liberty, we cannot do thus: Custom grants that to you that’s shame in us. MIS. N. Have you done yet? SEC. C. You broke the back of one husband already; and now th’ other’s dead with grief at sea, with your secret expenses, close stealths, cunning filches, and continued banquets in corners. Then, forsooth, you must have your milk-baths to white you, your rose-leaves to sweeten you, your bean-flour bags[682] to sleek you, and make you soft, smooth, and delicate, for lascivious entertainment! MIS. N. So, and you think all this while you dance like a thief in a mist, you’re safe, nobody can find you! Pray, were not you a feltmonger’s daughter at first, that run away with a new courtier for the love of gentlewomen’s clothes, and bought the fashion at a dear rate, with the loss of your name and credit? Why, what are all of you but rustical insides and city flesh, the blood of yeomen, and the bum of gentlewomen? SEC. C. What, shall we suffer a changeable forepart to out-tongue us? Take that! [_Attacking her._ MIS. N. Murder, murder!

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.

FIT. How now! Why, ladies, a retreat! come, you have shewn your spirits sufficiently: you’re all land-captains; and so they shall find that come in your quarters; but have you the law free now to fight and scratch among yourselves, and let your gallants run away with others?[683] FIRST C. How! SEC. C. Good—— FIRST C. Sweet master Bouser! MIS. N. Another? [_Aside._ FIT. Why, then, I perceive you know nothing: why, they are in the way of marriage; a knight’s daughter here in town makes her election among ’em this night. FIRST C. This night? FIT. This very night; and they all present themselves in a masque before her: know you not this? SEC. C. O traitor master Goldstone! THIRD C.[684] Perjured master Tailby! MIS. N. Without soul? [_Aside._ FIRST C. She will chase him! FIT. You have more cause to join, And play the grounds of friendship ’mongst yourselves, Than rashly run division: I could tell you A means to pleasure you—— FIRST C. Good master Bouser! FIT. But that you’re women, and are hardly secret—— SEC. C. We vow it seriously. FIT. You should be all there in presence, See all, hear all, and yet not they perceive you. THIRD C. So that—— MIS. N. Sweet master Bouser, I—— FIT. I can stand you in stead; For I frame the device—— ALL. If ever—— FIT. Will you do’t—hark you— [_Whispers._ FIRST C. Content. SEC. C. And I’ll make one. THIRD C. And I another: We’ll mar the match. MIS. N. When that good news[685] came of my husband’s death, Goldstone[686] promis’d me marriage, And sware to me—— SEC. C. I’ll bring his oaths in question. FIRST C. So will I.[687] FIT. Agree among yourselves, for shame! FIRST C. Are we resolv’d? SEC. C. In this who would not feign? THIRD C. Friends all, for my part. MIS. N. Here’s my[688] lip for mine. THIRD C. Round let it go. SEC. C. All wrath thus quench’d. FIRST C. And I conclude it so. [_Exeunt all except_ FITSGRAVE. FIT. How all events strike even with my wishes! Their own invention damns them.—

_Enter two Gentlemen, and_ PYAMONT _and_ BUNGLER.

Now, gentlemen, Stands your assistance firm? FIRST G. Why, ’tis our own case; I’m sorry you should doubt. SEC. G. We’ll furnish you. BUN.[689] Are these our gallants? FIT. Are our gallants these?

_Enter Painter with Shields._

PAI. Here be five shields, sir. FIT. Finished already? that’s well: I’ll see thy master shortly. PAI. I’m satisfied. [_Exit._ PY. Prithee, let’s see, master Fitsgrave. FIT. I have blazed them. FIRST G. What’s this? SEC. G. Fooh,[690] you should be a gallant too, for you’re no university scholar. FIT. Look, this is Pursenet; the device, a purse wide open, and the mouth downward: the word,[691] _Alienis ecce crumenis_! FIRST G. What’s that? FIT. _One that lives out of other men’s pockets._ PY. That’s right! FIT. Here’s Goldstone’s, three silver dice. FIRST G. They run high, two cinques and a quater! FIT. They’re high-men,[692] fit for his purpose: the word, _Fratremque patremque_. SEC. G. Nay, he will cheat his own brother; nay, his own father, i’faith! FIT. So much the word imports.—Master Primero— BUN.[693] Pox, what says he now? FIT. The device, an unvalued[694] pearl hid in a cave; the word, _Occultos vendit honores_. FIRST G. What’s that? FIT. _One that sells maidenheads by wholesale._ SEC. G. Excellently proper! FIT. Master Frip—— SEC. G. That Pythagorical rascal![695] in a gentleman’s suit to-day, in a knight’s to-morrow. FIT. The device for him, a cuckoo sitting on a tree; the word, _En avis ex avibus! one bird made of many_; for you know as the sparrow hatches the cuckoo, so the gentleman feathers the broker. FIRST G. Let me admire thee, master Fitsgrave! FIT. They will scorn gentlemen; and to assist them the better, Pursenet’s boy, that little precious pickpocket, has a compendious speech in Latin, and, like a Mercury, presents their dispositions more liberally. FIRST G. Never were poor gallants so abused. FIT. Hang ’em! They’re counterfeits; no honest spirit will pity ’em. This is my crown;[696] So good men smile, I dread no rascal’s frown. Away, bestow yourselves secretly o’erhead; This is the place appointed for the rehearsal, To practise their behaviours. FIRST G. We are vanish’d.

[_Exeunt two Gentlemen_, PYAMONT, _and_ BUNGLER, _who presently station themselves above_.

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE, PURSENET, TAILBY, FRIPPERY, PRIMERO, _and Boy_.

GOL. Master Bouser—— PUR. Well said, i’faith; off with your cloaks, gallants; let’s fall roundly to our business. TAI. Is the boy perfect? FIT. That’s my credit, sir, I warrant you. FRI. If our little Mercury should be out, we should scarce be known what we are. FIT. I have took a course for that, fear it not, sir. Look you, first, here be your shields. GOL. Ay, where be our shields? PUR. Which is mine? TAI. Which is mine, master Bouser? this? FIT. I pray, be contained[697] a little, gentlemen; they’ll come all time enough to you, I warrant. PUR. This Frip is grown so violent! FIT. Yours to begin withal, sir. PUR. Well said, master Bouser! FIT. First the[698] device, a fair purse wide open, the mouth downward; the word, _Alienis ecce crumenis_! PUR. What’s that, prithee? FIT. _Your bounty pours itself forth to all men._ PUR. And so it does, i’faith; that’s all my fault, bountiful. FIT. Master Goldstone, here’s yours, sir: three silver dice; the word, _Fratremque patremque_. GOL. And what’s that? FIT. _Fortune of my side._ GOL. Well said, little Bouser, i’faith! TAI. What say you to me, sir? FIT. For the device, a candle in a corner; the word, _Consumptio victus_. TAI. The meaning of that, sir? FIT. _My light is yet in darkness till I enjoy her._ TAI. Right, sir.[699] PRI. Now mine, sir? FIT. The device, an unvalued[700] pearl hid in a cave. PRI. Aha, sirs! FIT. The word, _Occultos vendit honores_. PRI. Very good, I warrant. FIT. _A black man’s a pearl in a fair lady’s eye._ PRI. I said ’twas some such thing. FRI. My turn must needs come now: am I fitted, master Bouser? FIT. Trust to me; your device here is a cuckoo sitting on a tree. FRI. The Welsh leiger;[701] good. FIT. The word, _En avis ex avibus_! FRI. Ay, marry, sir. FIT. Why do you know what ’tis, sir? FRI. No, by my troth, not yet, sir. FIT. O!—_I keep one tune, I recant not_. FRI. I’m like the cuckoo in that indeed: where I love I hold. FIT. Did I not promise you I would fit you? GOL. They’re all very well done, i’faith, and very scholarlike, though I say’t before thy face, little Bouser; but I would not have thee proud on’t now: come, if this be performed well—— PUR. Who, the boy? he has performed deeper matters than this. PY. Ay, a pox on him! I think was in my pocket now, and[702] truth were known. [_Aside._ BUN. I caught him once in mine. [_Aside._ FIT. Suppose the shields are presented, then you begin, boy. BOY. I, representing Mercury, am a pickpocket, and have his part at my fingers’ ends: _Page I am to that great and secret thief, magno illo et secreto latroni_—— FIT.[703] There you make your honour, sir. BOY. At _latroni_? FIT.[704] You have it, sir. PUR.[705] _Latroni_, that’s mine. FIT. He confesses the thief’s his. PUR. Remember, boy, you point _latroni_ to me. BOY. To you, master. FIT. Proceed.[706] BOY.[707] _These four are his companions: the one a notable cheater, that will cozen his own father_—— FIT. Master Goldstone. GOL. Let me alone, master Bouser; I can take mine own turn. FIT. Why—— GOL. Peace. BOY.[708] _The second a notorious lecher, maintained by harlots, cujus virtus consumptio corporis._[709] TAI. That’s I, master Bouser. FIT. There you remember your honour, sir. BOY. _Ille leno pretiosissimus, virgineos ob lucrum vendens honores._ PUR.[710] It sounds very well, i’faith. BOY. _Postremus ille, quamvis apparatu splendidus, is no otherwise but a broker; these feathers are not his own, sed avis ex avibus: all which to be nothing but truth will appear by the event._ FIT. I’faith, here’s all now, gentlemen. GOL. Short and pithy. TAI. A good boy, i’faith, and a pregnant! PUR. I dare put trust in the boy, sir.—Forget not, sirrah, at any hand, to point that same _latroni_ to me. BOY. I warrant you, master. GOL. Come, gentlemen, the time beckons us away. FIT. Ay, furnish, gentlemen, furnish. PUR. Hark, one word, master Bouser: what’s the same _latroni_? I have a good mind to that word, i’faith. FIT. _Latroni_? why, _shrieve_[711] _of the shire_. PUR. I’faith, and I have shriven some shires in my days. [_Exeunt_ GOLDSTONE, PURSENET, TAILBY, FRIPPERY, PRIMERO, _and Boy_. FIT. Now, gentlemen, are you satisfied and pleas’d? FIRST G. Never more amply. FIT. Amongst us now falls that desired lot, For we shall blast five rivals with one plot. [_Exit: and exeunt Gentlemen, &c. above._

SCENE II.

_A Hall in_ KATHERINE’S _House_.

_Enter_ KATHERINE _between two ancient Gentlemen_.

KAT. Grave gentlemen, in whose approved bosoms My deceas’d father did repose much faith, You’re dearly welcome: pray, sit, command music; See nothing want to beautify this night, That holds my election in her peaceful arms; Feasts, music, hymns, those sweet celestial charms.[712] FIRST G. May you be blest in this election! SEC. G. That content may meet perfection!

HYMN.

_Sound lute, bandora,[713] gittern, Viol, virginals, and cittern; Voices spring, and lift aloud Her name that makes the music proud! This night perfection Makes her election. Follow, follow, follow, follow round, Look you to that, nay, you to that, nay, you to that: Anon you will be found, anon you will be found, anon you will be found._

[_Cornets sound: enter the Masque,[714] thus ordered: a torch-bearer, a shield-boy, then a masquer, so throughout; then the shield-boys fall at one end, the torch-bearers at the other; the masquers i’ th’ middle: the torch-bearers are the five gentlemen_ [FITSGRAVE, PYAMONT, BUNGLER, _and two others_]; _the shield-boys the whores_ [_three Courtesans, Novice, and_ MISTRESS NEWCUT] _in boys’ apparel; the masquers the five gallants_ [PURSENET, GOLDSTONE, TAILBY, PRIMERO, _and_ FRIPPERY]: _they bow to her; she rises and shews the like: they dance, but first deliver the shields up; she reads. The speech: their action._ KAT. [_reads_] _Alienis ecce crumenis!_ [PURSENET _bows to her_.

[_reads_] _Fratremque patremque._ [GOLDSTONE _bows to her_.

[_reads_] _Consumptio victus._ [TAILBY _bows to her_. [_reads_] _Occultos vendit honores._ [PRIMERO _bows to her_. A cuckoo: [_reads_] _En avis ex avibus!_ [FRIPPERY _bows to her_. Are you all as the speech and shields display you? GOL. We shall prove so. [_They going to dance, each unhasps his weapon from his side, and gives it to the torch-bearers._ KATHERINE _seems distrustful, but then_ FITSGRAVE _whispers to her and falls back. At the end of which, all making an honour_, FRIPPERY _presents her with that chain of pearl_. KAT. The very chain of pearl was filch’d from me! FIT. Hold! stop the boy there! [_Boy seized_: PURSENET _stamps_. KAT. Will none lay hands on him? [FRIPPERY _seized_. GOL. How now? FRI. Alas, I’m but a broker! ’twas pawned to me in my shop. [FITSGRAVE, PYAMONT, _and the others discover themselves_. TAI. Ha, Fitsgrave! PUR. Pyamont, and the rest! GOL. Where’s Bouser? FIT. Here. GOL. We are all betrayed! FIT. Betrayed? you’re new forth to betrayed, you have not so much worth: nay, struggle not with the net, you are caught for this world. FIRST C. Would we were out! FIT. ’Twas I fram’d your device, do you see? ’twas I: The whole assembly has took notice of it. That you are a gallant cheater, So much the pawning of my cloak contains; [_To_ GOLDSTONE.

You a base thief, think of Combe Park [_to_ PURSENET]; and tell me[715] That you’re a hirèd smockster [_to_ TAILBY]; here’s her letter, In which we are certified that you’re[716] a bawd. [_To_ PRIMERO. FIRST G. The broker has confessed it. SEC. G. So has the boy. TAI. That boy will be hanged; he stole the chain at first, and has thus long maintained his master’s gallantry. FIT. All which we here present, like captive slaves, Waiting that doom which their presumption craves. KAT. How easily may our suspectless sex With fair-appearing shadows be deluded! Dear sir, you have the work so well begun, That took from you, small glory would be won. FIT. Since ’tis your pleasure to refer to me The doom of these, I have provided so, They shall not altogether lose their cost: See, I have brought wives for ’em. [_The Courtesans, &c. discover themselves._ GOL. Heart, the strumpets! out, out! TAI. Having assum’d, out of their impudence, The shape of shield-boys! FRI. To heap full confusion! FIRST C. Rather confine us to strict chastity, A mere impossible task, than to wed these, Whom we [do] loathe worse than the foul’st disease. GOL. O grant ’em their requests! FIT. The doom is past: so, since your aim was marriage, Either embrace it in these courtesans, Or have your base acts and felonious lives Proclaim’d to the indignation of the law, Which will provide a public punishment. As for the boy, and that infectious bawd, We put forth those to whipping. PRI. Whipping? you find not that in the statute to whip satin. FIT. Away with him! [PRIMERO _and Boy led off_. GOL. Since all our shifts are discovered, as far as I can see, ’tis our best course to marry ’em; we’ll make them get our livings. PUR. He says true. MIS. N. You see how we are threatened: by my troth, wenches, be ruled by me; let’s marry ’em, and[717] it be but to plague ’em; for when we have husbands we are under covert-baron,[718] and may lie with whom we list: I have tried that in my t’other husbands’ days. ALL THE C. A match. FIT. I’ll be no more deferr’d: come, when do you join? GOL. These forc’d marriages do never come to good. FIT. How can they, when the[y] come to such as you? PUR. The[y] often prove the ruin of great houses. FIT.[719] Nor, virgin, do I in this seek to entice All glory to myself; these gentlemen, Whom[720] I am bound to love for kind assistance, Had great affinity in the plot with me. KAT. To them I give my thanks; myself to thee, Thrice-worthy Fitsgrave! FIT. I have all my wishes. KAT. And I presume there’s none but those can frown, Whose envies, like the rushes, we tread down. [_Exeunt omnes._

A MAD WORLD, MY MASTERS.

_A Mad World, my Masters. As it hath bin lately in Action by the Children of Paules. Composed by T. M. London, Printed by H. B. for Walter Bvrre, and are to be sold in Paules Churchyard, at the signe of the Crane._ 1608. 4to. A second ed. appeared 1640. 4to.

This drama has been reprinted (most carelessly) in the several editions of Dodsley’s _Coll. of Old Plays_, vol. v.

_A Mad World, my Masters_, was licensed by the deputy of Sir George Bucke, 4th Oct. 1608: see Chalmers’s _Suppl. Apol._, p. 199.

_The City Heiress, or Sir Timothy Treatall_, 1682, by Mrs. Behn, and _The Country Lasses, or the Custom of the Manor_, 1715, by Charles Johnson, are partly taken from the present play.

THE PRINTER AND STATIONER TO THE GENTLE READER.[721]

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Courteous reader, let not the title or name of this comedy be any forestalling or weakening of the worthy author’s judgment, whose known abilities will survive to all posterities, though he be long since dead. I hope the reading thereof shall not prove distasteful unto any in particular, nor hurtful unto any in general; but I rather trust that the language and the plot which you shall find in each scene shall rather be commended and applauded than any way derided or scorned. In the action, which is the life of a comedy, and the glory of the author, it hath been sufficiently expressed to the liking of the spectators and commendations of the actors; who have set it forth in such lively colours, and to the meaning of the gentleman that true penned it, that I dare say few can excel them, though some may equal them. In the reading of one act you guess the consequence; for here is no bombasted or fustian stuff, but every line weighed as with balance, and every sentence placed with judgment and deliberation. All that you can find in the perusal I will give you notice of beforehand, to prevent a censure that may arise in thy reading of this comedy, as also for the excuse of the author; and that is this: here and there you shall find some lines that do answer in metre; which I hope will not prove so disdainful, whereby the book may be so much slighted as not to be read, or the author’s judgment undervalued as of no worth. Consider, gentle reader, it is full twenty years[722] since it was written, at which time metre was most in use, and shewed well upon the conclusion of every act and scene. My prevalent hope desires thy charitable censure, and thereby draws me to be

Thy immutable friend, J. S.[723]

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR BOUNTEOUS PROGRESS, _an old rich knight_. DICK FOLLYWIT, _his grandson_. HAREBRAIN. PENITENT BROTHEL. LIEUTENANT MAWWORM, } ANCIENT HOBOY, } _comrades to Follywit_. INESSE, } POSSIBILITY, } _two elder brothers_. GUMWATER, _Sir Bounteous’s chief man_. JASPER, _Penitent’s man_. RALPH, _Harebrain’s man_. SEMUS, _one of Sir Bounteous’s servants_. _Constable._ _Watchmen._ _Two Knights._ _Companions of Follywit, Servants, &c._

MISTRESS HAREBRAIN. FRANK GULLMAN, _a courtesan_. _Her Mother._ _A Succubus._

Scene, partly LONDON, partly the COUNTRY.

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A MAD WORLD, MY MASTERS.

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ACT I. SCENE I.

_A Street._

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others_.

MAW. Captain, regent, principal! HOB. What shall I call thee? the noble spark of bounty! the life-blood of society! FOL. Call me your forecast, you whoresons! when you come drunk out of a tavern, ’tis I must cast your plots into form still; ’tis I must manage the prank, or I’ll not give a louse for the proceeding: I must let fly my civil fortunes, turn wild-brain, lay my wits upo’ th’ tenters, you rascals, to maintain a company of villains, whom I love in my very soul and conscience! MAW. Aha, our little forecast! FOL. Hang you, you have bewitched me among you! I was as well given[724] till I fell to be wicked! my grandsire had hope of me: I went all in black; swore but a’ Sundays; never came home drunk but upon fasting-nights to cleanse my stomach. ’Slid, now I’m quite altered! blown into light colours; let out oaths by th’ minute; sit up late till it be early; drink drunk till I am sober; sink down dead in a tavern, and rise in a tobacco-shop: here’s a transformation! I was wont yet to pity the simple, and leave ’em some money: ’slid, now I gull ’em without conscience! I go without order, swear without number, gull without mercy, and drink without measure. MAW. I deny the last; for if you drink ne’er so much, you drink within measure. FOL. How prove you that, sir? MAW. Because the drawers never fill their pots. FOL. Mass, that was well found out! all drunkards may lawfully say, they drink within measure by that trick. And, now I’m put i’ th’ mind of a trick, can you keep your countenance, villains? Yet I am a fool to ask that; for how can they keep their countenance that have lost their credits? HOB. I warrant you for blushing, captain. FOL. I easily believe that, ancient, for thou lost thy colours once. Nay, faith, as for blushing, I think there’s grace little enough amongst you all; ’tis Lent in your cheeks, the flag’s down.[725] Well, your blushing face I suspect not, nor indeed greatly your laughing face, unless you had more money in your purses. Then thus compendiously now. You all know the possibilities of my hereafter fortunes, and the humour of my frolic grandsire, Sir Bounteous Progress, whose death makes all possible to me: I shall have all, when he has nothing; but now he has all, I shall have nothing. I think one mind runs through a million of ’em; they love to keep us sober all the while they’re alive, that when they’re dead we may drink to their healths; they cannot abide to see us merry all the while they’re above ground, and that makes so many laugh at their fathers’ funerals. I know my grandsire has his will in a box, and has bequeathed all to me, when he can carry nothing away; but stood I in need of poor ten pounds now, by his will I should hang myself ere I should get it: there’s no such word in his will, I warrant you, nor no such thought in his mind. MAW. You may build upon that, captain. FOL. Then since he has no will to do me good as long as he lives, by mine own will I’ll do myself good before he dies; and now I arrive at the purpose. You are not ignorant, I’m sure, you true and necessary implements of mischief, first, that my grandsire, Sir Bounteous Progress, is a knight of thousands, and therefore no knight since one thousand six hundred;[726] next, that he keeps a house like his name, bounteous, open for all comers; thirdly and lastly, that he stands much upon the glory of his complement,[727] variety of entertainment, together with the largeness of his kitchen, longitude of his buttery, and fecundity of his larder; and thinks himself never happier than when some stiff lord or great countess alights to make light his dishes. These being well mixed together, may give my project better encouragement, and make my purpose spring forth more fortunate: to be short, and cut off a great deal of dirty way, I’ll down to my grandsire like a lord. MAW. How, captain? FOL. A French ruff, a thin beard, and a strong perfume will do’t. I can hire blue coats[728] for you all by Westminster clock, and that colour will be soonest believed. MAW. But prithee, captain—— FOL. Push,[729] I reach past your fathoms:[730] you desire crowns? MAW. From the crown of our head to the sole of our foot, bully. FOL. Why carry yourselves but probably, and carry away enough with yourselves.

_Enter_ PENITENT BROTHEL.

HOB. Why, there spoke a Roman captain!—Master Penitent Brothel! P. BRO. Sweet master Folly-wit! [_Exeunt_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, &c.] Here’s a mad-brain a’ th’ first,[731] whose pranks scorn to have precedents, to be second to any, or walk beneath any madcap’s inventions; has played more tricks than the cards can allow a man, and of the last stamp too, hating imitation; a fellow, whose only glory is to be prime of the company; to be sure of which, he maintains all the rest: he’s the carrion, and they the kites that gorge upon him. But why in others do I check wild passions, And retain deadly follies in myself? I tax his youth of common receiv’d riot, Time’s comic flashes, and the fruits of blood; And in myself soothe up adulterous motions, And such an appetite that I know damns me, Yet willingly embrace it—love to Harebrain’s wife, Over whose hours and pleasures her sick husband, With a fantastic but deserv’d suspect, Bestows his serious time in watch and ward; And therefore I’m constrain’d to use the means Of one that knows no mean, a courtesan, One poison for another, whom her husband, Without suspicion, innocently admits Into her company, who with tried art Corrupts and loosens her most constant powers, Making his jealousy more than half a wittol,[732] Before his face plotting his own abuse, To which himself gives aim,[733] Whilst the broad arrow with the forked head Misses his brow but narrowly. See, here she comes, The close courtesan, whose mother is her bawd.

_Enter Courtesan._

COUR. Master Penitent Brothel!— P. BRO. My little pretty lady Gullman, the news, the comfort? COUR. You’re the fortunate man, sir, knight a’ th’ holland shirt;[734] there wants but opportunity, and she’s wax of your own fashioning. She had wrought herself into the form of your love before my art set finger to her. P. BRO. Did our affections meet? our thoughts keep time? COUR. So it should seem by the music: the only jar is in the grumbling bass-viol her husband. P. BRO. O, his waking suspicion! COUR. Sigh not, master Penitent; trust the managing of the business with me, ’tis for my credit now to see’t well finished: if I do you no good, sir, you shall give me no money, sir. P. BRO. I am arrived at the court of conscience; a courtesan! O admirable times! honesty is removed to the common place.[735] [_Aside._] Farewell, lady. [_Exit._

_Enter Mother._

MOT. How now, daughter? COUR. What news, mother? MOT. A token from thy keeper. COUR. O, from Sir Bounteous Progress: he’s my keeper indeed; but there’s many a piece of venison stolen that my keeper wots not on. There’s no park kept so warily but loses flesh one time or other; and no woman kept so privately but may watch advantage to make the best of her pleasure; and in common reason one keeper cannot be enough for so proud a park as a woman. MOT. Hold thee there, girl. COUR. Fear not me, mother. MOT. Every part of the world shoots up daily into more subtlety; the very spider weaves her cauls with more art and cunning to entrap the fly. The shallow ploughman can distinguish now ’Twixt simple truth and a dissembling brow; Your base mechanic fellow can spy out A weakness in a lord, and learns to flout. How does’t behove us then that live by slight,[736] To have our wits wound up to their stretch’d height! Fifteen times Thou knowest I have sold thy maidenhead To make up a dowry for thy marriage, and yet There’s maidenhead enough for old sir Bounteous still: He’ll be all his lifetime about it yet, And be as far to seek when he has done. The sums that I have told upon thy pillow! I shall once see those golden days again: Though fifteen, all thy maidenheads are not gone. Th’ Italian is not serv’d yet, nor the French: The British men come for a dozen at once, They engross all the market: tut, my girl, ’Tis nothing but a politic conveyance, A sincere carriage, a religious eyebrow, That throw[737] their charms over the worldling’s senses; And when thou spiest a fool that truly pities The false springs of thine eyes, And honourably doats upon thy love, If he be rich, set him by for a husband. Be wisely temper’d, and learn this, my wench, Who gets th’ opinion[738] for a virtuous name May sin at pleasure, and ne’er think of shame. COUR. Mother, I am too deep a scholar grown To learn my first rules now. MOT. ’Twill be thy own; I say no more: peace, hark! remove thyself. O, the two elder brothers! [_Exit Courtesan._

_Enter_ INESSE _and_ POSSIBILITY.

POS. A fair hour, sweet lady! MOT. Good morrow, gentlemen, master Inesse and master Possibility. IN. Where’s the little sweet lady your daughter? MOT. Even at her book, sir. POS. So religious? MOT. ’Tis no new motion, sir; sh’as took it from an infant. POS. May we deserve a sight of her, lady? MOT. Upon that condition you will promise me, gentlemen, to avoid all profane talk, wanton compliments, undecent phrases, and lascivious courtings (which I know my daughter will sooner die than endure), I am contented your suits shall be granted. POS. Not a bawdy syllable, I protest. IN. Syllable was [well] placed there; for indeed your one syllables are your bawdiest words: prick that down. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Before_ HAREBRAIN’S _House_.

_Enter_ HAREBRAIN.

HAR. She may make night-work on’t; ’twas well recover’d;[739] He-cats and courtesans stroll most i’ th’ night: Her friend may be receiv’d and convey’d forth nightly; I’ll be at charge For watch and ward, for watch and ward, i’faith; And here they come.

_Enter Watchmen._ FIRST W. Give your worship good even. HAR. Welcome, my friends; I must deserve your diligence In an employment serious. The troth is, There’s[740] a cunning plot laid, but happily discover’d, To rob my house; the night uncertain when, But fix’d within the circle of this month; Nor does this villany consist in numbers, Or many partners; only some one Shall, in the form of my familiar friend, Be receiv’d privately into my house By some perfidious servant of mine own, Address’d fit for the practice. FIRST W. O abominable! HAR. If you be faithful watchmen, shew your goodness, And with these angels[741] shore up your eyelids: [_Giving money._

Let me not be purloin’d—purloin’d indeed! The merry Greeks conceive me—there’s[742] a gem I would not lose, Kept by th’ Italian under lock and key: We Englishmen are careless creatures: well, I have said enough. SEC. W. And we will do enough, sir. HAR. Why, well said; watch me a good turn now; so, so, so. [_Exeunt Watchmen._ Rise villany with the lark, why, ’tis prevented; Or steal’t by with the leather-winged bat,[743] The evening cannot save it—peace—

_Enter Courtesan._

O, lady Gullman, my wife’s only company, welcome! and how does the virtuous matron, that good old gentlewoman, thy mother? I persuade myself, if modesty be in the world, she has part on’t; a woman of an excellent carriage all her lifetime, in court, city, and country. COUR. Sh’as always carried it well in those places, sir;—witness three bastards a-piece. [_Aside_]—How does your sweet bed-fellow, sir? you see I’m her boldest visitant. HAR. And welcome, sweet virgin; the only companion my soul wishes for her. I left her within at her lute; prithee, give her good counsel. COUR. Alas, she needs none, sir! HAR. Yet, yet, yet, a little of thy instructions will not come amiss to her. COUR. I’ll bestow my labour, sir. HAR. Do, labour her, prithee. I have conveyed away all her wanton pamphlets; as _Hero and Leander_, _Venus and Adonis_;[744] O, two luscious marrow-bone pies for a young married wife! Here, here, prithee, take the _Resolution_,[745] and read to her a little. [_Gives book._ COUR. Sh’as set up her resolution already, sir. HAR. True, true, and this will confirm it the more: there’s a chapter of hell; ’tis good to read this cold weather: terrify her, terrify her. Go, read to her the horrible punishments for itching wantonness, the pains allotted for adultery; tell her her thoughts, her very dreams are answerable, say so; rip up the life of a courtesan, and shew how loathsome ’tis. COUR. The gentleman would persuade me in time to disgrace myself, and speak ill of mine own function. [_Aside and exit._ HAR. This is the course I take; I’ll teach the married man A new-selected strain. I admit none But this pure virgin to her company: Pooh, that’s enough; I’ll keep her to her stint, I’ll put her to her pension; She gets but her allowance, that’s [a] bare one: Few women but have that beside their own: Ha, ha, ha! nay, I will[746] put her hard to’t.

_Enter_ MISTRESS HAREBRAIN _and Courtesan_.

MIS. H. Fain would I meet the gentleman. COUR. Push,[747] fain would you meet him! why, you do not take the course. HAR. How earnestly she labours her, Like a good wholesome sister of the Family![748] She will prevail, I hope. [_Aside._ COUR. Is that the means? MIS. H. What is the means? I would as gladly, to enjoy his sight, Embrace it as the—— COUR. Shall I have hearing? listen. HAR. She’s round with her, i’faith.[749] [_Aside._ COUR. When husbands in their rank’st suspicions dwell, Then ’tis our best art to dissemble well: Put but these notes in use that I’ll direct you, He’ll curse himself that e’er he did suspect you. Perhaps he will solicit you, as in trial, To visit such and such; still give denial: Let no persuasions sway you; they’re[750] but fetches Set to betray you, jealousies, slights,[751] and reaches. Seem in his sight t’ endure the sight of no man; Put by all kisses, till you kiss in common: Neglect all entertain; if he bring in Strangers, keep you your chamber, be not seen. If he chance steal upon you, let him find Some book lie open ’gainst an unchaste mind, And coted[752] Scriptures; though for your own pleasure You read some stirring pamphlet, and convey it Under your skirt, the fittest place to lay it. This is the course, my wench, t’ enjoy thy wishes; Here you perform best when you most neglect: The way to daunt is to outvie suspect. Manage these principles but with art and life, Welcome all nations, thou’rt an honest wife. HAR. She puts it home, i’faith, even to the quick: From her elaborate action I reach that. I must requite this maid; faith, I’m forgetful. [_Aside._ MIS. H. Here, lady, Convey my heart unto him in this jewel. Against you see me next, you shall perceive I’ve[753] profited; in the mean season tell him I am a prisoner yet a’ th’ Master’s side,[754] My husband’s jealousy, That masters him, as he doth master me; And as a keeper that locks prisoners up Is himself prison’d under his own key, Even so my husband, in restraining me, With the same ward bars his own liberty. COUR. I’ll tell him how you wish it, and I’ll wear My wits to the third pile[755] but all shall clear. MIS. H. I owe you more than thanks, but that I hope My husband will requite you. COUR. Think you so, lady? he has small reason for’t. HAR. What, done so soon? away, to’t again, to’t again, good wench, to’t again; leave her not so: where left you? come. COUR. Faith, I am weary, sir. I cannot draw her from her strict opinion With all the arguments that sense can frame. HAR. No? let me come.—Fie, wife, you must consent.—What opinion is’t? let’s hear. COUR. Fondly[756] and wilfully she retains that thought, That every sin is damn’d. HAR. O, fie, fie, wife! pea, pea, pea, pea, how have you lost your time! for shame, be converted. There’s a diabolical opinion indeed! then you may think that usury were damned; you’re a fine merchant, i’faith! or bribery; you know the law well! or sloth; would some of the clergy heard you, i’faith! or pride; you come at court! or gluttony; you’re not worthy to dine at an alderman’s table! Your only deadly sin’s adultery, That villanous ringworm, woman’s worst requital; ’Tis only lechery that’s damn’d to th’ pit-hole: Ah, that’s an arch offence, believe it, squal! All sins are venial but venereal. COUR. I’ve said enough to her. HAR. And she will be rul’d by you. COUR. Faugh! HAR. I’ll pawn my credit on’t. Come hither, lady, I will not altogether rest ingrateful; Here, wear this ruby for thy pains and counsel. COUR. It is not so much worth, sir; I am a very ill counsellor, truly. HAR. Go to, I say. COUR. You’re to blame, i’faith, sir; I shall ne’er deserve it. HAR. Thou hast done’t already: farewell, sweet virgin; prithee, let’s see thee oftener. COUR. Such gifts will soon entreat me. [_Aside, and exit._ HAR. Wife, as thou lov’st the quiet of my breast, Embrace her counsel, yield to her advices: Thou wilt find comfort in ’em in the end; Thou’lt feel an alteration: prithee, think on’t: Mine eyes can scarce refrain. MIS. H. Keep in your dew, sir, Lest when you would, you want it. HAR. I’ve pawn’d my credit on’t: ah, didst thou know The sweet fruit once, thou’dst never let it go! MIS. H. ’Tis that I strive to get. HAR. And still do so. [_Exeunt._

ACT II. SCENE I.

_A Hall in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS PROGRESS’S _Country House_.

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS PROGRESS _and two Knights_.

FIRST K. You have been too much like your name, sir Bounteous. SIR B. O, not so, good knights, not so; you know my humour: most welcome, good sir Andrew Pollcut;[757] sir Aquitain Colewort, most welcome. BOTH. Thanks, good sir Bounteous. [_Exeunt at one door._

_At the other door, enter in haste one of_ FOLLYWIT’S _companions disguised as a Footman_.

FOOT. O, cry your worship heartily mercy, sir! SIR B. How now, linen stockings and threescore mile a-day? whose footman art thou? FOOT. Pray, can your worship tell me—ho, ho, ho!—if my lord be come in yet. SIR B. Thy lord! what lord? FOOT. My lord Owemuch, sir. SIR B. My lord Owemuch? I have heard much speech of that lord; has great acquaintance i’ th’ city; that lord has been much followed. FOOT. And is still, sir; he wants no company when he’s in London: he’s free of the mercers, and there’s none of ’em all dare cross him. SIR B. And[758] they did, he’d turn over a new leaf with ’em; he would make ’em all weary on’t i’ th’ end. Much fine rumour have I heard of that lord, yet had I never the fortune to set eye upon him: art sure he will alight here, footman? I am afraid thou’rt mistook.

FOOT. Thinks your worship so, sir? by your leave, sir. [_Going._ SIR B. Pooh, passion of me, footman! why, pumps, I say, come back! FOOT. Does your worship call? SIR B. Come hither, I say. I am but afraid on’t; would it might happen so well! How dost know? did he name the house with the great turret a’ th’ top? FOOT. No, faith, did he not, sir. [_Going._ SIR B. Come hither, I say. Did he speak of a cloth-a’-gold chamber? FOOT. Not one word, by my troth, sir. [_Going._ SIR B. Come again, you lousy seven-mile-an-hour! FOOT. I beseech your worship, detain me not. SIR B. Was there no talk of a fair pair of organs,[759] a great gilt candlestick, and a pair of silver snuffers? FOOT. ’Twere sin to belie my lord; I heard no such words, sir. [_Going._ SIR B. A pox confine thee! come again, pooh! FOOT. Your worship will undo me, sir. SIR B. Was there no speech of a long dining-room, a huge kitchen, large meat, and a broad dresser-board? FOOT. I have a greater maw to that indeed, an’t please your worship. SIR B. Whom did he name? FOOT. Why, one sir Bounteous Progress. SIR B. Ah, a, a! I am that sir Bounteous, you progressive round-about rascal. FOOT. Pooh! [_Laughs._[760] SIR B. I knew I should have him i’ th’ end: there’s not a lord will miss me, I thank their good honours; ’tis a fortune laid upon me; they can scent out their best entertainment. I have a kind of complimental gift given me above ordinary country knights; and how soon ’tis smelt out! I warrant ye, there’s not one knight i’ th’ shire able to entertain a lord i’ th’ cue, or a lady i’ th’ nick, like me;—like me! there’s a kind of grace belongs to’t, a kind of art which naturally slips from me; I know not on’t, I promise you, ’tis gone before I’m aware on’t—cuds me, I forget myself—where——

_Enter Servants._

FIRST S. Does your worship call? SIR B. Run, sirrah! call in my chief gentleman i’ th’ chain of gold;[761] expedite. [_Exit First Servant._]— And how does my good lord? I never saw him before in my life.—A cup of bastard[762] for this footman! FOOT. My lord has travelled this five year, sir. SIR B. Travelled this five year? how many children has he?—Some bastard, I say! FOOT. No bastard, an’t please your worship. SIR B. A cup of sack to strengthen his wit!— [_Exit Second Servant, and returns with the wine._

The footman’s a fool.

_Enter_ GUMWATER.

O, come hither, master Gumwater, come hither: send presently to master Pheasant for one of his hens; there’s partridge i’ th’ house? GUM. And wild-duck, an’t please your worship. SIR B. And woodcock, an’t please thy worship. GUM. And woodcock, an’t please your worship.—I had thought to have spoke before you. SIR B. Remember the pheasant, down with some plover, clap down six woodcocks; my lord’s[763] coming: now, sir. GUM. An’t please your worship, there’s a lord and his followers newly alighted. SIR B. Despatch, I say, despatch: why, where’s my music? he’s come indeed. [_Exit_ GUMWATER.

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT _dressed as a lord, with_ MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others, in blue coats_.[764]

FOL. Footman! FOOT. My lord? FOL. Run swiftly with my commendations to sir Jasper Topaz: we’ll ride and visit him i’ th’ morning, say. FOOT. Your lordship’s charge shall be effected. [_Exit._ FOL. That courtly, comely form should present to me Sir Bounteous Progress. SIR B. You’ve found me out, my lord; I cannot hide myself: Your honour is most spaciously welcome. FOL. In this forgive me, sir, That being a stranger to your house[765] and you, I make my way so bold; and presume Rather upon your kindness than your knowledge; Only your bounteous disposition Fame hath divulg’d, and is to me well known. SIR B. Nay, and your lordship know my disposition, you know me better than they that know my person; your honour is so much the welcomer for that. FOL. Thanks, good sir Bounteous. SIR B. Pray, pardon me; it has been often my ambition, my lord, both in respect of your honourable presence, and the prodigal fame that keeps even stroke with your unbounded worthiness, To have wish’d your lordship where your lordship is, A noble guest in this unworthy seat: Your lordship ne’er heard my organs? FOL. Heard of ’em, sir Bounteous, but never heard ’em. SIR B. They’re but double-gilt, my lord; some hundred and fifty pound will fit your lordship with such another pair.[766] FOL. Indeed, sir Bounteous! SIR B. O, my lord, I have a present suit to you! FOL. To me, sir Bounteous? and you could ne’er speak at fitter time, for I’m here present to grant you. SIR B. Your lordship has been a traveller? FOL. Some five year, sir. SIR B. I have a grandchild, my lord; I love him; and when I die I’ll do somewhat for him: I’ll tell your honour the worst of him, a wild lad he has been. FOL. So we have been all, sir. SIR B. So we have been all indeed, my lord; I thank your lordship’s assistance. Some comic pranks he has been guilty of; but I’ll pawn my credit for him, an honest, trusty bosom. FOL. And that’s worth all, sir. SIR B. And that’s worth all indeed, my lord, for he’s like to have all when I die: _imberbis juvenis_, his chin has no more prickles yet than a midwife’s; there’s great hope of his wit, his hair’s so long a-coming. Shall I be bold with your honour, to prefer this aforesaid Ganymede to hold a plate under your lordship’s cup? FOL. You wrong both his worth and your bounty, and[767] you call that boldness. Sir, I have heard much good of that young gentleman. SIR B. Nay, has a good wit, i’faith, my lord. FOL. Has carried himself always generously. SIR B. Are you advised of that, my lord? has carried many things cleanly. I’ll shew your lordship my will; I keep it above in an outlandish box; the whoreson boy must have all: I love him, yet he shall ne’er find it as long as I live. FOL. Well, sir, for your sake, and his own deserving, I’ll reserve a place for him nearest to my secrets. SIR B. I understand your good lordship; you’ll make him your secretary.—My music! give my lord a taste of his welcome. [_A strain played by the consort_:[768] SIR BOUNTEOUS _makes a courtly honour to_ FOLLYWIT, _and seems to foot the tune_.] So.—How like you our airs, my lord? are they choice? FOL. They’re seldom matched, believe it. SIR B. The consort of mine own household. FOL. Yea, sir! SIR B. The musicians are in ordinary, yet no ordinary musicians. Your lordship shall hear my organs now. FOL. O, I beseech you, sir Bounteous! SIR B. My organist! [_The organs play, and servants with covered dishes pass over the stage._]—Come, my lord, how does your honour relish my organ[s]? FOL. A very proud air, i’faith, sir. SIR B. O, how can’t choose? a Walloon plays upon ’em, and a Welchman blows wind in their breech. [_Exeunt._ [_A song to the organs._[769]

SCENE II.

_A Gallery._

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, _with_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others_.[770]

SIR B. You must pardon us, my lord, hasty cates; your honour has had even a hunting-meal on’t; and now I am like to bring your lordship to as mean a lodging; a hard down bed, i’faith, my lord, poor cambric sheets, and a cloth a’ tissue canopy; the curtains, indeed, were wrought in Venice, with the story of the Prodigal Child in silk and gold; only the swine are left out, my lord, for[771] spoiling the curtains. FOL. ’Twas well prevented, sir. SIR B. Silken rest, harmonious slumbers, and venereal dreams to your lordship! FOL. The like to kind sir Bounteous! SIR B. Fie, not to me, my lord; I’m old, past dreaming of such vanities. FOL. Old men should dream best. SIR B. They’re dreame[r]s indeed, my lord; you’ve gi’nt us. To-morrow your lordship shall see my cocks, my fish-ponds, my park, my champion[772] grounds; I keep champers[773] in my house can shew your lordship some pleasure. FOL. Sir Bounteous, you even whelm me with delights. SIR B. Once again, a musical night to your honour! I’ll trouble your lordship no more. FOL. Good rest, sir Bounteous. [_Exit_ SIR BOUNTEOUS.]— So, come, the vizards! where be the masking-suits? MAW. In your lordship’s portmantua. FOL. Peace, lieutenant. MAW. I had rather have war, captain. FOL. Pooh, the plot’s ripe! come, to our business, lad; Though guilt condemns, ’tis gilt[774] must make us glad. MAW. Nay, and[775] you be at your distinctions, captain, I’ll follow behind no longer. FOL. Get you before, then, and whelm your nose with your vizard; go. [_Exit_ MAWWORM. Now, grandsire, you that hold me at hard meat, And keep me out at the dag’s end,[776] I’ll fit you: Under his lordship’s leave, all must be mine He and his will confesses; what I take, then, Is but a borrowing of so much beforehand; I’ll pay him again when he dies in so many blacks;[777]

I’ll have the church hung round with a noble[778] a yard, or requite him in scutcheons: let him trap me in gold, and I’ll lap him in lead; _quid pro quo_. I must look none of his angels[779] in the face, forsooth, until his face be not worth looking on: tut, lads,

Let sires and grandsires keep us low, we must Live when they’re flesh, as well as when they’re dust. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter Courtesan and Servant._

COUR. Go, sirrah, run presently to master Penitent Brothel; you know his lodging; knock him up; I know he cannot sleep for sighing; Tell him, I’ve happily bethought a mean To make his purpose prosper in each limb, Which only rests to be approv’d by him: Make haste, I know he thirsts for’t. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE IV.

_A Gallery._

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT _in a masking suit, with a vizard in his hand_.

[_Within_] Oh! FOL. Hark! they’re at their business. [_Within_] Thieves, thieves! FOL. Gag that gaping rascal! though he be my grandsire’s chief gentleman i’ th’ chain of gold,[780] I’ll have no pity of him.

_Enter_ MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others, vizarded_.

How now, lads? MAW. All’s sure and safe; on with your vizard, sir; the servants are all bound. FOL. There’s one care past then: come, follow me, lads; I’ll lead you now to th’ point and top of all your fortunes: yon lodging is my grandsire’s. MAW. So, so; lead on, on! HOB. Here’s a captain worth the following, and a wit worth a man’s love and admiring! [_Exeunt._[781]

SCENE V.

_A Room opening into_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _Bed-chamber, from which enter_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others, dragging in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS _in his night-gown_.

SIR B. O gentlemen, and[782] you be kind gentlemen, what countrymen are you? FOL. Lincolnshire men, sir. SIR B. I am glad of that, i’faith. FOL. And why should you be glad of that? SIR B. O, the honestest thieves of all come out of Lincolnshire, the kindest-natured gentlemen; they’ll rob a man with conscience; they have a feeling of what they go about, and will steal with tears in their eyes: ah, pitiful gentlemen! FOL. Push,[783] money, money! we come for money. SIR B. Is that all you come for? Ah, what a beast was I to put out my money t’other day! Alas, good gentlemen, what shift shall I make for you? pray, come again another time. FOL. Tut, tut, sir, money! SIR B. O not so loud, sir! you’re too shrill a gentleman: I have a lord lies in my house; I would not for the world his honour should be disquieted. FOL. Who, my lord Owemuch? we have took order with him beforehand; he lies bound in his bed, and all his followers. SIR B. Who, my lord? bound my lord? Alas, what did you mean to bind my lord? he could keep his bed well enough without binding. You’ve undone me in’t already, you need rob me no farther. FOL. Which is the key? come! SIR B. Ah, I perceive now you’re no true Lincolnshire spirits! you come rather out of Bedfordshire; we cannot lie quiet in our beds for you. So, take enough, my masters [_they rifle his cabinets_]: spur a free horse, my name’s sir Bounteous; a merry world, i’faith; what knight but I keep open house at midnight? Well, there should be a conscience, if one could hit upon’t. FOL. Away now; seize upon him, bind him. SIR B. Is this your court of equity? why should I be bound for mine own money? but come, come, bind me, I have need on’t; I have been too liberal to-night, keep in my hands [_they bind him_]: nay, as hard as you list; I am too good to bear my lord company. You have watched your time, my masters; I was knighted at Westminster, but many of these nights will make me a knight of Windsor.[784] You’ve deserved so well, my masters, I bid you all to dinner to-morrow: I would I might have your companies, i’faith; I desire no more. FOL. O, ho, sir! SIR B. Pray, meddle not with my organs, to put ’em out of tune. FOL. O no, here’s better music, sir. SIR B. Ah, pox feast you! FOL. Despatch with him, away! [_Exeunt_ HOBOY _and others, carrying_ SIR BOUNTEOUS _into the bed-chamber_.]—So, thank you, good grandsire! This was bounteously done of him, i’faith: it came somewhat hard from him at first; for, indeed, nothing comes stiff from an old man but money; and he may well stand upon that, when he has nothing else to stand upon. Where’s our portmantua? MAW. Here, bully captain. FOL. In with the purchase,[785] ’twill lie safe enough there under ’s nose, I warrant you.—

_Re-enter_ HOBOY _and others_.

What, is all sure? HOB. All’s sure, captain. FOL. You know what follows now, one villain binds his fellows; go, we must be all bound for our own securities, rascals. There’s no dallying upo’ th’ point; you conceit me: there is a lord to be found bound in the morning, and all his followers; can you pick out that lord now? MAW. O admirable spirit! FOL. You ne’er plot for your safeties, so your wants be satisfied. HOB. But if we bind one another, how shall the last man be bound? FOL. Pox on’t, I’ll have the footman ’scape. FOOT. That’s I; I thank you, sir. FOL. The footman, of all other, will be supposed to ’scape, for he comes in no bed all night, but lies in ’s clothes, to be first ready i’ th’ morning; the horse and he lie[786] in litter together, that’s the right fashion of your bonny footman; and his freedom will make the better for our purpose, for we must have one i’ th’ morning to unbind the knight, that we may have our sport within ourselves. We now arrive at the most ticklish point, to rob, and take our ease, to be thieves, and lie by’t: look to’t, lads, it concerns every man’s gullet; I’ll not have the jest spoiled, that’s certain, though it hazard a windpipe. I’ll either go like a lord as I came, or be hanged like a thief as I am; and that’s my resolution. MAW. Troth, a match, captain, of all hands! [_Exeunt._

SCENE VI.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter Courtesan meeting_ PENITENT BROTHEL.

COUR. O master Penitent Brothel! PEN. B. What is’t, sweet lady Gullman, that so seizes on thee with rapture and admiration? COUR. A thought, a trick, to make you, sir, especially happy, and yet I myself a saver by it. PEN. B. I would embrace that, lady, with such courage, I would not leave you on the losing hand. COUR. I will give trust to you, sir. The cause, then, why I raised you from your bed so soon, wherein I know sighs would not let you sleep, thus understand it: You love that woman, master Harebrain’s wife, Which no invented means can crown with freedom For your desires and her own wish but this, Which in my slumbers did present itself. PEN. B. I’m covetous, lady. COUR. You know her husband, lingering in suspect, Locks her from all society but mine. PEN. B. Most true. COUR. I only am admitted; yet hitherto that has done you no real happiness; by my admittance I cannot perform that deed that should please you, you know: wherefore thus I’ve conveyed it, I’ll counterfeit a fit of violent sickness. PEN. B. Good. COUR. Nay, ’tis not so good, by my faith, but to do you good. PEN. B. And in that sense I called it: but take me with you, lady;[787] would it be probable enough to have a sickness so suddenly violent? COUR. Pooh, all the world knows women are soon down: we can be sick when we have a mind to’t, catch an ague with the wind of our fans, surfeit upon the rump of a lark, and bestow ten pound in physic upon’t: we’re likest ourselves when we’re down; ’tis the easiest art and cunning for our sect[788] to counterfeit sick, that are always full of fits when we are well; for since we were made for a weak, imperfect creature, we can fit that best that we are made for. I thus translated, and yourself slipt into the form of a physician—— PEN. B. I a physician, lady? talk not on’t, I beseech you; I shall shame the whole college. COUR. Tut, man, any quacksalving terms will serve for this purpose; for I am pitifully haunted with a brace of elder brothers, new perfumed in the first of their fortunes, and I shall see how forward their purses will be to the pleasing of my palate, and restoring of my health. Lay on load enough upon ’em, and spare ’em not, for they’re good plump fleshly asses, and may well enough bear it; let gold,[789] amber, and dissolved pearl, be common ingrediences, and that you cannot compose a cullice without ’em. Put but this cunningly in practice, it shall be both a sufficient recompense for all my pains in your love, and the ready means to make mistress Harebrain way, by the visiting of me, to your mutual desired company. PEN. B. I applaud thee, kiss thee, and will constantly embrace it. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE VII.

_A Bed-chamber_: FOLLYWIT, _bound, in bed_.

SIR B. [_within_] Ho, Gumwater! FOL. Singlestone! [_Within_] Jenkin, wa, ha, ho! [_Within_] Ewen! [_Within_] Simcod! FOL. Footman! whew! FOOT. [_within_] O good your worship, let me help your good old worship!

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, _with a cord half unbound, and Footman,[790] assisting to loose him_.

SIR B. Ah, poor honest footman! how did’st thou ’scape this massacre? FOOT. E’en by miracle, and lying in my clothes, sir. SIR B. I think so; I would I had lain in my clothes too, footman, so I had ’scaped ’em: I could have but risse[791] like a beggar then, and so I do now, till more money come in; but nothing afflicts me so much, my poor geometrical footman, as that the barbarous villains should lay violence upon my lord. Ah, the binding of my lord cuts my heart in two pieces! So, so, ’tis well; I thank thee: run to thy fellows; undo ’em, undo ’em, undo ’em! FOOT. Alas, if my lord should miscarry, they’re unbound already, sir; they have no occupation but sleep, feed, and fart. [_Exit._ SIR B. If I be not ashamed to look my lord i’ th’ face, I’m a Saracen.—My lord! FOL. Who’s that? SIR B. One may see he has been scared: a pox on ’em for their labours! FOL. Singlestone! SIR B. Singlestone? I’ll ne’er answer to that, i’faith. FOL. Suchman! SIR B. Suchman? nor that neither, i’faith; I am not brought so low, though I be old. FOL. Who’s that i’ th’ chamber? SIR B. Good morrow, my lord; ’tis I. FOL. Sir Bounteous, good morrow; I would give you my hand, sir, but I cannot come at it. Is this the courtesy a’ th’ country, sir Bounteous? SIR B. Your lordship grieves me more than all my loss; ’Tis the unnatural’st sight that can be found, To see a noble gentleman hard bound. FOL. Trust me, I thought you had been better beloved, sir Bounteous; but I see you have enemies, sir, and your friends fare the worse for ’em. I like your talk better than your lodging; I ne’er lay harder in a bed of down; I have had a mad night’s rest on’t. Can you not guess what they should be, sir Bounteous? SIR B. Faith, Lincolnshire men, my lord. FOL. How? fie, fie, believe it not, sir; these lie not far off, I warrant you. SIR B. Think you so, my lord? FOL. I’ll be burnt and[792] they do; some that use to your house, sir, and are familiar with all the conveyances. SIR B. This is the commodity[793] of keeping open house, my lord; that makes so many shut their doors about dinner-time. FOL. They were resolute villains: I made myself known to ’em, told ’em what I was, gave ’em my honourable word not to disclose ’em— SIR B. O saucy, unmannerly villains! FOL. And think you the slaves would trust me upon my word? SIR B. They would not? FOL. Forsooth, no; I must pardon ’em: they told me lords’ promises were mortal, and commonly die within half an hour after they are spoken; they were but gristles, and not one amongst a hundred come to any full growth or perfection; and therefore, though I were a lord, I must enter into bond. SIR B. Insupportable rascals! FOL. Troth, I’m of that mind. Sir Bounteous, you fared the worse for my coming hither. SIR B. Ah, good my lord, but I’m sure your lordship fared the worse! FOL. Pray, pity not me, sir. SIR B. Is not your honour sore about the brawn of the arm? a murrain meet ’em, I feel it! FOL. About this place, sir Bounteous? SIR B. You feel as it were a twinge, my lord? FOL. Ay, e’en a twinge, you say right. SIR B. A pox discover ’em, that twinge I feel too! FOL. But that which disturbs me most, sir Bounteous, lies here. SIR B. True; about the wrist, a kind of tumid numbness. FOL. You say true, sir. SIR B. The reason of that, my lord, is, the pulses had no play. FOL. Mass, so I guessed it. SIR B. A mischief swell ’em, for I feel that too!

_Enter_ MAWWORM.

MAW. ’Slid, here’s a house haunted indeed! SIR B. A word with you, sir. FOL. How now, Singlestone? MAW. I’m sorry, my lord, your lordship has lost—— SIR B. Pup, pup, pup, pup, pup! FOL. What have I lost? speak. SIR B. A good night’s sleep, say. FOL. Speak, what have I lost, I say? MAW. A good night’s sleep, my lord, nothing else. FOL. That’s true; my clothes, come. MAW. My lord’s clothes! his honour’s rising.

_Enter_[794] HOBOY _and others with clothes: they retire to_ FOLLYWIT, _behind the curtains, which are drawn_. SIR B. Hist, well said: come hither; what has my lord lost? tell me, speak softly. MAW. His lordship must know that, sir. SIR B. Hush! prithee tell me. MAW. ’Twill do you no pleasure to know’t, sir. SIR B. Yet again? I desire it, I say. MAW. Since your worship will needs know’t, they have stolen away a jewel in a blue silk ribband of a hundred pound price, beside some hundred pounds in fair spur-royals.[795] SIR B. That’s some two hundred i’ th’ total. MAW. Your worship’s much about it, sir. SIR B. Come, follow me; I’ll make that whole again in so much money; let not my lord know on’t. MAW. O pardon me, sir Bounteous! that were a dishonour to my lord: should it come to his ear, I should hazard my undoing by it. SIR B. How should it come to his ear? if you be my lord’s chief man about him, I hope you do not use to speak unless you be paid for’t; and I had rather give you a counsellor’s double fee to hold your peace. Come, go to; follow me, I say. MAW. There will be scarce time to tell it, sir; my lord will away instantly. SIR B. His honour shall stay dinner, by his leave; I’ll prevail with him so far: and now I remember a jest, I bade the whoreson thieves to dinner last night; I would I might have their companies; a pox poison ’em! [_Exit._ MAW. Faith, and you are like to have no other guess,[796] sir Bounteous, if you have none but us; I’ll give you that gift, i’faith. [_Exit._[797]

ACT III. SCENE I.

_A Hall in_ HAREBRAIN’S _House_.

_Enter_ HAREBRAIN, INESSE, _and_ POSSIBILITY.

POS. You see bold guests, master Harebrain. HAR. You’re kindly welcome to my house, good master Inesse and master Possibility. IN. That’s our presumption, sir. HAR. Ralph!

_Enter_ RALPH.

RAL. Here, sir. HAR. Call down your mistress to welcome these two gentlemen, my friends. RAL. I shall, sir. [_Exit._ HAR. I will observe her carriage, and watch The slippery revolutions of her eye; I’ll lie in wait for every glance she gives, And poise her words i’ th’ balance of suspect: If she but swag,[798] she’s gone; either on this hand Over familiar, or this too neglectful: It does behove her carry herself even. [_Aside._ POS. But, master Harebrain—— HAR. True, I hear you, sir; was’t you said? POS. I have not spoke it yet, sir. HAR. Right, so I say. POS. Is it not strange, that in so short a time my little lady Gullman should be so violently handled? HAR. O, sickness has no mercy, sir! It neither pities lady’s lip nor eye; It crops the rose out of the virgin’s cheek, And so deflowers her that was ne’er deflower’d.[799] Fools, then, are maids to lock from men that treasure Which death will pluck, and never yield ’em pleasure. Ah, gentlemen, though I shadow it, that sweet virgin’s sickness grieves me not lightly! she was my wife’s only delight and company. Did you not hear her, gentlemen, i’ th’ midst of her extremest fit, still how she called upon my wife, remembered still my wife, sweet mistress Harebrain? When she sent for me, a’ one side of her bed stood the physician, the scrivener on the other; two horrible objects, but mere opposites in the course of their lives, for the scrivener binds folks, and the physician makes them loose. POS. But not loose of their bonds, sir. HAR. No, by my faith, sir, I say not so: if the physician could make ’em loose of their bonds, there’s many a one would take physic, that dares not now for poisoning. But, as I was telling of you, her will was fashioning, wherein I found her best and richest jewel given as a legacy unto my wife: when I read that, I could not refrain weeping. Well, of all other my wife has most reason to visit her; if she have any good nature in her, she’ll shew it there.—

_Re-enter_ RALPH.

Now, sir, where’s your mistress? RAL. She desires you, and the gentlemen your friends, to hold her excused; sh’as a fit of an ague now upon her, which begins to shake her. HAR. Where does it shake her most? RAL. All over her body, sir. HAR. Shake all her body? ’tis a saucy fit, I’m jealous of that ague. [_Aside._]—Pray, walk in, gentlemen; I’ll see you instantly. [_Exeunt_ INESSE _and_ POSSIBILITY. RAL. Now they are absent, sir, ’tis no such thing. HAR. What? RAL. My mistress has her health, sir, But ’tis her suit she may confine herself From sight of all men but your own dear self, sir; For since the sickness of that modest virgin, Her only company, she delights in none. HAR. No? visit her again, commend me to her, Tell her they’re gone, and only I myself Walk here t’ exchange a word or two with her. RAL. I’ll tell her so, sir. [_Exit._ HAR. Fool that I am, and madman, beast! what worse? Suspicious o’er a creature that deserves The best opinion and the purest thought; Watchful o’er her that is her watch herself; To doubt her ways that looks too narrowly Into her own defects: I, foolish-fearful, Have often rudely, out of giddy flames, Barr’d her those objects which she shuns herself. Thrice I’ve had proof of her most constant temper: Come I at unawares by stealth upon her, I find her circled in with divine writs Of heavenly meditations; here and there Chapters with leaves tuck’d up, which when I see, They either tax pride or adultery. Ah, let me curse myself, that could be jealous Of her whose mind no sin can make rebellious! And here the unmatch’d comes.

_Enter_ MISTRESS HAREBRAIN.

Now, wife, i’faith, they’re gone; Push,[800] see how fearful ’tis! will you not credit me? They’re gone, i’faith; why, think you I’ll betray you? Come, come; thy delight and mine, Thy only virtuous friend, thy sweet instructress, Is violently taken, grievous sick, And, which is worse, she mends not. MIS. H. Her friends are sorry for that, sir. HAR. She calls still upon thee, poor soul, remembers thee still, thy name whirls in her breath; where’s mistress Harebrain? says she. MIS. H. Alas, good soul! HAR. She made me weep thrice: Sh’as put thee in a jewel in her will. MIS. H. E’en to th’ last gasp a kind soul! HAR. Take my man, go, visit her. MIS. H. Pray, pardon me, sir; Alas, my visitation cannot help her! HAR. O, yet the kindness of a thing, wife!—Still She holds the same rare temper. [_Aside._]—Take my man, I say. MIS. H. I would not take your man, sir, Though I did purpose going. HAR. No? thy reason. MIS. H. The world’s condition is itself so vild,[801] sir, ’Tis apt to judge the worst of those deserve not; ’Tis an ill-thinking age, and does apply All to the form of its own luxury;[802] This censure flies from one, that from another; That man’s her squire, says he; her pimp, the tother; She’s of the stamp, a third; fourth, I ha’ known her: I’ve heard this, not without a burning cheek. Then our attires are tax’d; our very gait Is call’d in question; where[803] a husband’s presence Scatters such thoughts, or makes ’em sink for fear Into the hearts that breed ’em: nay, surely, If I went, sir, I would entreat your company. HAR. Mine? prithee, wife;—I have been there already. MIS. H. That’s all one; although you bring me but to th’ door, sir, I would entreat no farther. HAR. Thou’rt such a wife! why, I will bring thee thither then, but not go up, I swear. MIS. H. I’faith, you shall not; I do not desire it, sir. HAR. Why, then, content. MIS. H. Give me your hand, you will do so, sir? HAR. Why, there’s my lip I will. MIS. H. Why, then I go, sir. HAR. With me, or no man! incomparable such a woman! [_Aside._] [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_The Courtesan’s Bed-chamber. The Courtesan[804] discovered in bed; phials, gallipots, plates, and an hour-glass by her._

_Enter_ PENITENT BROTHEL, _disguised as a doctor of physic_.

PEN. B. Lady! COUR. Ha, what news? PEN. B. There’s one sir Bounteous Progress newly alighted from his foot-cloth,[805] and his mare waits at door, as the fashion is. COUR. ’Slid, ’tis the knight that privately maintains me; a little, short, old, spiny[806] gentleman in a great doublet? PEN. B. The same; I know ’m. COUR. He’s my sole revenue, meat, drink, and raiment. My good physician, work upon him; I’m weak. PEN. B. Enough.

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS.

SIR B. Why, where be these ladies? these plump, soft, delicate creatures? ha? PEN. B. Who would you visit, sir? SIR B. Visit, who? what are you, with the plague in your mouth? PEN. B. A physician, sir. SIR B. Then you are a loose-liver, sir; I have put you to your purgation. PEN. B. But you need none, you’re purged in a worse fashion. COUR. Ah, sir Bounteous! SIR B. How now? what art thou? COUR. Sweet sir Bounteous! SIR B. Passion of me, what an alteration’s here! Rosamond sick, old Harry? here’s a sight able to make an old man shrink! I was lusty when I came in, but I am down now, i’faith: mortality! yea, this puts me in mind of a hole seven foot deep; my grave, my grave, my grave. Hist, master doctor, a word, sir; hark, ’tis not the plague, is’t? PEN. B. The plague, sir? no. SIR B. Good. PEN. B. He ne’er asks whether it be the pox or no; and of the twain that had been more likely. [_Aside._ SIR B. How now, my wench? how dost? COUR. Huh,—weak, knight,—huh. PEN. B. She says true, he’s a weak knight indeed. [_Aside._ SIR B. Where does it hold thee most, wench? COUR. All parts alike, sir. PEN. B. She says true still, for it holds her in none. [_Aside._ SIR B. Hark in thine ear, thou’rt breeding of young bones; I am afraid I have got thee with child, i’faith. COUR. I fear that much, sir. SIR B. O, O, if it should! a young Progress when all’s done! COUR. You have done your good will, sir. SIR B. I see by her ’tis nothing but a surfeit of Venus, i’faith; and though I be old, I have gi’n’t her;—but since I had the power to make thee sick, I’ll have the purse to make thee whole, that’s certain.—Master doctor. PEN. B. Sir? SIR B. Let’s hear, I pray, what is’t you minister to her. PEN. B. Marry, sir, some precious cordial, some costly refocillation,[807] a composure comfortable and restorative. SIR B. Ay, ay, that, that, that. PEN. B. No poorer ingrediences than the liquor of coral, clear amber, or _succinum_; unicorn’s horn, six grains; _magisterium perlarum_, one scruple—— SIR B. Ah, hah![808] PEN. B. _Ossis de corde cervi_, half a scruple; _aurum potabile_, or his tincture—— SIR B. Very precious, sir. PEN. B. All which being finely contunded, and mixed in a stone or glass mortar with the spirit of diamber—— SIR B. Nay, pray, be patient, sir. PEN. B. That’s impossible; I cannot be patient and a physician too, sir. SIR B. O, cry you mercy, that’s true, sir. PEN. B. All which aforesaid—— SIR B. Ay, there you left, sir. PEN. B. When it is almost exsiccate or dry, I add thereto _olei succini_, _olei masi_, _et cinnamomi_. SIR B. So, sir, _olei masi_, that same oil of mace is a great comfort to both the counters.[809] PEN. B. And has been of a long time, sir. SIR B. Well, be of good cheer, wench; there’s gold for thee, huh.—Let her want for nothing, master doctor; a poor kinswoman of mine, nature binds me to have a care of her.—There I gulled you, master doctor. [_Aside._]— Gather up a good spirit, wench! the fit will away; ’tis but a surfeit of gristles:—ha, ha, I have fitted her: an old knight and a cock a’ th’ game still; I have not spurs for nothing, I see. PEN. B. No, by my faith, they’re hatched; they cost you an angel,[810] sir. SIR B. Look to her, good master doctor; let her want nothing: I’ve given her enough already, ha, ha, ha! [_Exit._ COUR. So, is he gone? PEN. B. He’s like himself, gone. COUR. Here’s somewhat to set up with. How soon he took occasion to slip into his own flattery, soothing his own defects! He only fears he has done that deed which I ne’er feared to come from him in my life. This purchase[811] came unlooked for. PEN. B. Hist, the pair of sons and heirs. COUR. O, they’re welcome! they bring money.

_Enter_ INESSE _and_ POSSIBILITY.

POS. Master doctor. PEN. B. I come to you, gentlemen. POS. How does she now? PEN. B. Faith, much after one fashion, sir. IN. There’s hope of life, sir? PEN. B. I see no signs of death in[812] her. POS. That’s some comfort; will she take any thing yet? PEN. B. Yes, yes, yes, she’ll take still; sh’as a kind of facility in taking. How comes your band[813] bloody, sir? IN. You may see I met with a scab, sir. PEN. B. _Diversa genera scabierum_, as Pliny reports, there are divers kind of scabs. IN. Pray, let’s hear ’em, sir. PEN. B. An itching scab, that is your harlot; a sore scab, your usurer; a running scab,[814] your promoter; a broad scab, your intelligencer; but a white scab, that’s a scald knave and a pander: but, to speak truth, the only scabs we are now-a-days troubled withal are new officers.[815] IN. Why, now you come to mine, sir; for I’ll be sworn one of them was very busy about my head this morning, and he should be a scab by that; for they are ambitious, and covet the head. PEN. B. Why, you saw I derived him, sir. IN. You physicians are mad gentlemen. PEN. B. We physicians see the most sights of any men living. Your astronomers look upward into th’ air, we look downward into th’ body; and, indeed, we have power upward and downward. IN. That you have, i’faith, sir. POS. Lady, how cheer you now? COUR. The same woman still,—huh! POS. That’s not good. COUR. Little alteration. Fie, fie, you have been too lavish, gentlemen. IN. Puh, talk not of that, lady; thy health’s worth a million.—Here, master doctor, spare for no cost. [_Giving money._ POS. Look what you find there, sir. COUR. What do you mean, gentlemen? put up, put up; You see I’m down, and cannot strive with you, I’d[816] rule you else; you have me at advantage; But if e’er[817] I live, I will requite it deeply. IN. Tut, an’t come to that once, we’ll requite ourselves well enough. POS. Mistress Harebrain, lady, is setting forth to visit you too. COUR. Ha?—huh! PEN. B. There struck the minute[818] that brings forth the birth Of all my joys and wishes: but see the jar now! How shall I rid these from her? [_Aside._ COUR. Pray, gentlemen, Stay not above an hour from my sight. IN. ’S foot, we are not going, lady! PEN. B. Subtilely brought about! yet ’twill not do; they’ll stick by’t.— [_Aside._ A word with you, gentlemen. BOTH. What says master doctor? PEN. B. She wants but settling of her sense with rest; One hour’s sleep, gentlemen, would set all parts in tune. POS. He says true, i’faith. IN. Get her to sleep, master doctor; we’ll both sit here and watch by her. PEN. B. Hell’s angels watch you! no art can prevail with ’em: What with the thought of joys, and sight of crosses, My wits are at Hercules’ Pillars; _non plus ultra_. [_Aside._ COUR. Master doctor, master doctor! PEN. B. Here, lady. COUR. Your physic works; lend me your hand. POS. Farewell, sweet lady. IN. Adieu, master doctor. [_Exeunt_ POSSIBILITY _and_ INESSE. COUR. So. PEN. B. Let me admire thee! The wit of man wanes and decreases soon, But women’s wit is ever at full moon.

_Enter_ MISTRESS HAREBRAIN.

There shot a star from heaven! I dare not yet behold my happiness, The splendour is so glorious and so piercing. COUR. Mistress Harebrain, give my wit thanks hereafter; your wishes are in sight, your opportunity spacious. MIS. H. Will you but hear a word from me? COUR. Whooh! MIS. H. My husband himself brought me to th’ door, walks below for my return; jealousy is prick-eared, and will hear the wagging of a hair. COUR. Pish, you’re a faint liver; trust yourself with your pleasure, and me with your security; go. PEN. B. The fulness of my wish! MIS. H. Of my desire! PEN. B. Beyond this sphere I never will aspire! [_Exeunt_ PEN. BROTHEL _and_ MIS. HAREBRAIN. [HAREBRAIN _opens the door and listens; the Courtesan perceiving him_. HAR. I’ll listen: now the flesh draws nigh her end, At such a time women exchange their secrets, And ransack the close corners of their hearts: What many years have[819] whelm’d, this hour imparts. [_Aside._ COUR. Pray, sit down, there’s a low stool. Good mistress Harebrain, this was kindly done,—huh,—give me your hand,—huh,—alas, how cold you are! even so is your husband, that worthy, wise gentleman; as comfortable a man to woman in my case as ever trod—huh—shoe-leather. Love him, honour him, stick by him: he lets you want nothing that’s fit for a woman; and, to be sure on’t, he will see himself that you want it not. HAR. And so I do, i’faith; ’tis right my humour. [_Aside._ COUR. You live a lady’s life with him; go where you will, ride when you will, and do what you will. HAR. Not so, not so, neither; she’s better looked to. [_Aside._ COUR. I know you do, you need not tell me that: ’twere e’en pity of your life, i’faith, if ever you should wrong such an innocent gentleman. Fie, mistress Harebrain, what do you mean? come you to discomfort me? nothing but weeping with you? HAR. She’s weeping! t’as made her weep: my wife shews her good nature already. [_Aside._ COUR. Still, still weeping? huff, huff, huff; why, how now, woman? hey, hy, hy, for shame, leave; suh, suh, she cannot answer me for snobbing.[820] HAR. All this does her good; beshrew my heart, and[821] I pity her; let her shed tears till morning, I’ll stay for her. She shall have enough on’t, by my good will; I’ll not be her hinderance. [_Aside._ COUR. O no! lay your hand here, mistress Harebrain; ay, there: O there, there lies my pain, good gentlewoman! Sore? O ay, I can scarce endure your hand upon’t! HAR. Poor soul, how she’s tormented! [_Aside._ COUR. Yes, yes; I eat a cullis[822] an hour since. HAR. There’s some comfort in that yet, she may ’scape it. [_Aside._ COUR. O, it lies about my heart much! HAR. I’m sorry for that, i’faith; she’ll hardly ’scape it. [_Aside._ COUR. Bound? no, no; I’d a very comfortable stool this morning. HAR. I’m glad of that, i’faith, that’s a good sign; I smell she’ll ’scape it now. [_Aside._ COUR. Will you be going then? HAR. Fall back, she’s coming. [_Aside._ COUR. Thanks, good mistress Harebrain; welcome, sweet mistress Harebrain; pray, commend me to the good gentleman your husband. HAR. I could do that myself now. [_Aside._ COUR. And to my uncle Winchcomb, and to my aunt Lipsalve, and to my cousin Falsetop, and to my cousin Lickit, and to my cousin Horseman, and to all my good cousins in Clerkenwell and St. John’s.

_Re-enter_ MIS. HAREBRAIN _and_ PEN. BROTHEL.

MIS. H. At three days’ end my husband takes a journey. PEN. B. O thence I derive a second meeting! MIS. H. May it prosper still! Till then I rest a captive to his will.— Once again, health, rest, and strength to thee, sweet lady: farewell, you witty squall.—Good master doctor, have a care to her body; if you stand her friend, I know you can do her good. COUR. Take pity of your waiter; go: farewell, sweet mistress Harebrain. HAR. [_coming forward_] Welcome, sweet wife, alight upon my lip! Never was hour spent better. MIS. H. Why, were you Within the hearing, sir? HAR. Ay, that I was, i’faith, To my great comfort; I deceiv’d you there, wife; Ha, ha! I do entreat thee, nay, conjure thee, wife, Upon my love, or what can more be said, Oftener to visit this sick virtuous maid. MIS. H. Be not so fierce, your will shall be obey’d. HAR. Why, then, I see thou lov’st me. [_Exit with_ MIS. HAREBRAIN. PEN. B. Art of ladies! When plots are e’en past hope, and hang their head, Set with a woman’s hand, they thrive and spread. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_A Room._[823]

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others_.

FOL. Was’t not well managed, you necessary mischiefs? did the plot want either life or art? MAW. ’Twas so well, captain, I would you could make such another muss[824] at all adventures. FOL. Dost call’t a muss? I am sure my grandsire ne’er got his money worse in his life than I got it from him. If ever he did cozen the simple, why, I was born to revenge their quarrel; if ever oppress the widow, I, a fatherless child, have done as much for him. And so ’tis through the world, either in jest or earnest. Let the usurer look for’t; for craft recoils in the end, like an overcharged musket, and maims the very hand that puts fire to’t. There needs no more but a usurer’s own blow to strike him from hence to hell; ’twill set him forward with a vengeance. But here lay the jest, whoresons; my grandsire, thinking in his conscience that we had not robbed him enough o’ernight, must needs pity me i’ th’ morning, and give me the rest. MAW. Two hundred pounds in fair rose-nobles,[825] I protest. FOL. Push,[826] I knew he could not sleep quietly till he had paid me for robbing of him too: ’tis his humour, and the humour of most of your rich men in the course of their lives; for, you know, they always feast those mouths that are least needy, and give them more that have too much already; and what call you that but robbing of themselves a courtlier way?—O!—— MAW. Cuds me, how now, captain? FOL. A cold fit that comes over my memory, and has a shrewd pull at my fortunes. MAW. What’s that, sir? FOL. Is it for certain, lieutenant, that my grandsire keeps an uncertain creature, a quean? MAW. Ay, that’s too true, sir. FOL. So much the more preposterous for me; I shall hop shorter by that trick; she carries away the thirds at least: ’twill prove entailed land, I am afraid, when all’s done, i’faith. Nay, I’ve[827] known a vicious old thought-acting father Damn’d only in his dreams, thirsting for game (When his best parts hung down their heads for shame), For his blanch’d harlot[828] dispossess his son, And make the pox his heir; ’twas gravely done! How hadst thou first knowledge on’t, lieutenant? MAW. Faith, from discourse; yet, all the policy That I could use, I could not get her name. FOL. Dull slave, that ne’er could’st spy it! MAW. But the manner of her coming was described to me. FOL. How is the manner, prithee? MAW. Marry, sir, she comes most commonly coached. FOL. Most commonly coached, indeed; for coaches are as common now-a-days as some that ride in ’em. She comes most commonly coached? MAW. True, there I left, sir; guarded with some leash of pimps. FOL. Beside the coachman? MAW. Right, sir; then alighting, she’s privately received by master Gumwater. FOL. That’s my grandsire’s chief gentleman[829] i’ th’ chain of gold: that he should live to be a pander, and yet look upon his chain and his velvet jacket! MAW. Then is your grandsire rounded[830] i’ th’ ear; the key given after the Italian fashion, backward; she closely conveyed into his closet; there remaining, till either opportunity smile upon his credit, or he send down some hot caudle to take order in his performance. FOL. Peace, ’tis mine own, i’faith; I ha’t! MAW. How now, sir? FOL. Thanks, thanks to any spirit That mingled it ’mongst my inventions! HOB. Why, master Follywit—— THE REST.[831] Captain—— FOL. Give me scope, and hear me. I’ve[832] begot that means, which will both furnish me, And make that quean walk under his conceit. MAW. That were double happiness; to put thyself into money, and her out of favour. FOL. And all at one dealing. HOB. ’S foot, I long to see that hand played! FOL. And thou shalt see’t quickly, i’faith: nay, ’tis in grain; I warrant it hold colour. Lieutenant, step behind yon hanging: if I mistook not at my entrance, there hangs the lower part of a gentlewoman’s gown, with a mask and a chinclout:[833] bring all this way. Nay, but do’t cunningly, now; ’tis a friend’s house, and I’d use it so; there’s a taste for you. [_Exit_ MAWWORM. HOB. But, prithee, what wilt thou do with a gentlewoman’s lower part? FOL. Why, use it. HOB. You’ve answered me, indeed, in that; I can demand no farther. FOL. Well said.—Lieutenant——

_Re-enter_ MAWWORM _with gown, &c._

MAW. What will you do now, sir? FOL. Come, come, thou shalt see a woman quickly made up here. MAW. But that’s against kind,[834] captain; for they are always long a-making ready.[835] FOL. And is not most they do against kind, I prithee? To lie with their horse-keeper, is not that against kind? to wear half moons[836] made of another’s hair, is not that against kind? to drink down a man, she that should set him up, pray is not that monstrously against kind now? Nay, over with it, lieutenant, over with it; ever while you live put a woman’s clothes over her head: Cupid plays best at blindman buff. MAW. You shall have your will, maintenance; I love mad tricks as well as you for your heart, sir: but what shift will you make for upper-bodies, captain? FOL. I see now thou’rt an ass; why, I’m ready. MAW. Ready? FOL. Why, the doublet serves as well as the best, and is most in fashion; we’re all male to th’ middle; mankind from the beaver to th’ bum. ’Tis an Amazonian time; you shall have women shortly tread their husbands. I should have a couple of locks behind; prithee, lieutenant, find ’em out for me, and wind ’em about my hatband: nay, you shall see, we’ll be in fashion to a hair, and become all with probability: the most musty-visage critic shall not except against me. MAW. Nay, I’ll give thee thy due behind thy back; thou art as mad a piece of clay—— FOL. Clay! dost call thy captain clay? Indeed, clay was made to stop holes; he says true. Did not I tell you, rascals, you should see a woman quickly made up? HOB. I’ll swear for’t, captain. FOL. Come, come, my mask and my chinclout—come into th’ court. MAW. Nay, they were both i’ th’ court long ago, sir. FOL. Let me see; where shall I choose two or three for pimps, now? but I cannot choose amiss amongst you all, that’s the best. Well, as I am a quean, you were best have a care of me, and guard me sure. I give you warning beforehand; ’tis a monkey-tailed age. Life, you shall go nigh to have half a dozen blithe fellows surprise me cowardly, carry me away with a pair of oars, and put in at Putney! MAW. We should laugh at that, i’faith. FOL. Or shoot in upo’ th’ coast of Cue.[837] MAW. Two notable fit landing-places for lechers, P and C, Putney and Cue. FOL. Well, say you have fair warning on’t; the hair about the hat is as good as a flag[838] upo’ th’ pole at a common play-house, to waft company; and a chinclout is of that powerful attraction, I can tell you, ’twill draw more linen to’t. MAW. Fear not us, captain; there’s none here but can fight for a whore as well as some Inns-a’-court-man. FOL. Why, then, set forward; and as you scorn two-shilling brothel, Twelvepenny panderism, and such base bribes, Guard me from bonny scribs and bony scribes.[839] MAW. Hang ’em, pensions and allowances! four-pence halfpenny a meal, hang ’em! [_Exeunt._

ACT IV. SCENE I.

_A Chamber in_ PENITENT BROTHEL’S _House_.

_Enter out of his study_ PENITENT BROTHEL,[840] _a book in his hand_.

PEN. B. Ha? read that place again—_Adultery Draws the divorce ’twixt heaven and the soul_. Accursed man, that stand’st divorc’d from heaven! Thou wretched unthrift, that hast play’d away Thy eternal portion at a minute’s game; To please the flesh hast blotted out thy name! Where were thy nobler meditations busied, That they durst trust this body with itself; This natural drunkard, that undoes us all, And makes our shame apparent in our fall? Then let my blood pay for’t, and vex and boil! My soul, I know, would never grieve to th’ death Th’ eternal spirit, that feeds her with his breath: Nay, I that knew the price of life and sin, What crown is kept for continence, what for lust, The end of man, and glory of that end, As endless as the giver, To doat on weakness, slime, corruption, woman! What is she, took asunder from her clothes? Being ready,[841] she consists of hundred pieces, Much like your German clock,[842] and near ally’d; Both are so nice, they cannot go for pride: Beside a greater fault, but too well known, They’ll strike to ten, when they should stop at one. Within these three days the next meeting’s fix’d; If I meet then, hell and my soul be mix’d! My lodging I know constantly, she not knows: Sin’s hate is the best gift that sin bestows: I’ll ne’er embrace her more; never, bear witness, never.

_Enter Succubus in the shape of_ MIS. HAREBRAIN,[843] _and claps him on the shoulder_.

SUC. What, at a stand? the fitter for my company. PEN. B. Celestial soldiers guard me! SUC. How now, man? ’Las, did the quickness of my presence fright thee? PEN. B. Shield me,[844] you ministers of faith and grace! SUC. Leave, leave; are you not ashamed to use such words to a woman? PEN. B. Thou’rt a devil! SUC. A devil? feel, feel, man; has a devil flesh and bone? PEN. B. I do conjure thee, by that dreadful power—— SUC. The man has a delight to make me tremble— Are these the fruits of thy adventurous love? Was I tic’d[845] for this, to be so soon rejected? Come, what has chang’d thee so, delight? PEN. B. Away! SUC. Remember—— PEN. B. Leave my sight! SUC. Have I this meeting wrought with cunning, Which, when I come, I find thee shunning? Rouse thy amorous thoughts, and twine me; All my interest I resign thee: Shall we let slip this mutual hour, Comes so seldom in her[846] power? Where’s thy lip, thy clip, thy fadom?[847] Had women such loves, would’t not mad ’em? Art a man? or dost abuse one? A love, and know’st not how to use one! Come, I’ll teach thee. PEN. B. Do not follow—— SUC. Once so firm, and now so hollow! When was place and season sweeter? Thy bliss in sight, and dar’st not meet her? Where’s thy courage, youth, and vigour? Love’s best pleas’d when’t’s seiz’d[848] with rigour: Seize me, then, with veins most cheerful; Women love no flesh that’s fearful: ’Tis but a fit; come, drink’t away, And dance and sing, and kiss and play! Fa le la, le la, fa le la, le la la; Fa le la, fa la le, la le la! [_Singing and dancing round him._ PEN. B. Torment me not! SUC. Fa le la, fa le la, fa la la lo! PEN. B. Fury! SUC. Fa le la, fa le la, fa la la lo! PEN. B. Devil, I do conjure thee once again, By that soul-quaking thunder, to depart, And leave this chamber freed from thy damn’d art! [_Succubus stamps, and exit._ It has prevail’d—O my sin-shaking sinews! What should I think?—Jasper, why, Jasper!

_Enter_ JASPER.

JAS. Sir? how now? what has disturb’d you, sir? PEN. B. A fit, a qualm. Is mistress Harebrain[849] gone? JAS. Who, sir? mistress Harebrain? PEN. B. Is she gone, I say? JAS. Gone? why, she was never here yet. PEN. B. No? JAS. Why, no, sir. PEN. B. Art sure on’t? JAS. Sure on’t? If I be sure I breathe, and am myself. PEN. B. I like it not. [_Aside._]—Where kept’st thou? JAS. I’ th’ next room, sir. PEN. B. Why, she struck by thee, man. JAS. You’d make one mad, sir; that a gentlewoman should steal by me, and I not hear her! ’s foot, one may hear the ruffling of their bums[850] almost an hour before we see ’em. PEN. B. I will be satisfied, although to hazard. What though her husband meet me? I am honest: When men’s intents are wicked, their guilt haunts ’em; But when they’re just, they’re arm’d, and nothing daunts ’em. [_Aside, and exit._ JAS. What strange humour call you this? he dreams of women, and both his eyes broad open! [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A Room in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _House_.

_Enter at one door_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, _at another_ GUMWATER.

SIR B. Why, how now, master Gumwater? what’s the news with your haste? GUM. I have a thing to tell your worship—— SIR B. Why, prithee, tell me; speak, man. GUM. Your worship shall pardon me, I have better bringing-up than so. SIR B. How, sir? GUM. ’Tis a thing made fit for your ear, sir—— SIR B. O, O, O, cry you mercy; now I begin to taste you. Is she come? GUM. She’s come, sir. SIR B. Recovered? well and sound again? GUM. That’s to be feared, sir. SIR B. Why, sir? GUM. She wears a linen cloth about her jaw.[851] SIR B. Ha, ha, haw! why, that’s the fashion, You whoreson Gumwater. GUM. The fashion, sir? Live I so long time to see that a fashion, Which rather was an emblem of dispraise? It was suspected much in Monsieur’s days.[852] SIR B. Ay, ay, in those days; that was a queasy[853] time: our age is better hardened now, and put oftener in the fire; we are tried what we are. Tut, the pox is as natural now as an ague in the spring-time; we seldom take physic without it. Here, take this key; you know[854] what duties belong to’t. Go, give order for a cullis:[855] let there be a good fire made i’ th’ matted chamber: do you hear, sir? GUM. I know my office, sir. [_Exit._ SIR B. An old man’s venery is very chargeable, my masters; there’s much cookery belongs to’t. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Another Chamber in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _House_.

_Enter_ GUMWATER, _with_ FOLLYWIT _disguised as the Courtesan and masked_.

GUM. Come, lady: you know where you are now? FOL. Yes, good master Gumwater. GUM. This is the old closet, you know. FOL. I remember it well, sir. GUM. There stands a casket: I would my yearly revenue were but worth the wealth that’s locked in’t, lady! yet I have fifty pound a-year, wench. FOL. Beside your apparel, sir? GUM. Yes, faith, have I. FOL. But then you reckon your chain,[856] sir. GUM. No, by my troth, do I not, neither: faith, and[857] you consider me rightly, sweet lady, you might admit a choice gentleman into your service. FOL. O, pray away, sir! GUM. Pusha,[858] come, come; you do but hinder your fortunes, i’faith: I have the command of all the house, I can tell you; nothing comes into th’ kitchen, but comes through my hands. FOL. Pray do not handle me, sir. GUM. Faith you’re too nice, lady; and as for my secrecy, you know I have vowed it often to you. FOL. Vowed it? no, no, you men are fickle. GUM. Fickle? ’sfoot! bind me, lady—— FOL. Why, I bind you by virtue of this chain to meet me to-morrow at the Flower-de-luce yonder, between nine and ten. GUM. And if I do not, lady, let me lose it, thy love, and my best fortunes! FOL. Why, now I’ll try you; go to. GUM. Farewell, sweet lady! [_Kisses_ FOLLYWIT, _and exit_. FOL. Welcome, sweet coxcomb! by my faith, a good induction! I perceive by his overworn phrase, and his action toward the middle region still, there has been some saucy nibbling motion; and no doubt the cunning quean waited but for her prey: and I think ’tis better bestowed upon me, for his soul’s health, and his body’s too. I’ll teach the slave to be so bold yet, as once to offer to vault into his master’s saddle, i’faith. Now, casket, by your leave: I’ve[859] seen your outside oft, but that’s no proof; Some have fair outsides that are nothing worth. [_Rifles the casket._ Ha! now, by my faith, a gentlewoman of very good parts; diamond, ruby, sapphire; _Onyx cum prole silexque_![860] if I do not wonder how the quean ’scaped tempting, I’m an hermaphrodite! sure she could lack nothing, but the devil to point to’t; and I wonder that he should be missing: well, ’tis better as it is. This is the fruit of old grunting venery; grandsire, you may thank your drab for this. O fie, in your crinkling days, grandsire, keep a courtesan, to hinder your grandchild! ’tis against nature, i’faith, and I hope you’ll be weary on’t. Now to my villains that lurk close below: Who keeps a harlot, tell him this from me, He needs nor thief, disease, nor enemy. [_Exit._

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS.

SIR B. Ah, sirrah, methink I feel myself well toasted, bombasted, rubbed, and refreshed! but, i’faith, I cannot forget to think how soon sickness has altered her to my taste. I gave her a kiss at bottom o’ th’ stairs, and, by th’ mass, methought her breath had much ado to be sweet; like a thing compounded, methought, of wine, beer, and tobacco; I smelt much pudding[861] in’t. It may be but my fancy, or her physic: For this I know, her health gave such content, The fault rests in her sickness, or my scent.— How dost thou now, sweet girl? what, well recover’d? Sickness quite gone, ha? speak—ha? wench? Frank Gullman!—

Why, body of me, what’s here? my casket wide open, broke open, my jewels stolen!—Why, Gumwater!

_Re-enter_ GUMWATER.

GUM. Anon, anon, sir. SIR B. Come hither, Gumwater. GUM. That were small manners, sir, i’faith: I’ll find a time anon; your worship’s busy yet. SIR B. Why, Gumwater! GUM. Foh, nay then you’ll make me blush, i’faith, sir—— SIR B. Where’s this creature? GUM. What creature is’t you’d have, sir? SIR B. The worst that ever breathes. GUM. That’s a wild boar, sir. SIR B. That’s a vild[862] whore, sir;—where didst thou leave her, rascal? GUM. Who? your recreation, sir? SIR B. My execration, sir! GUM. Where I was wont; in your worship’s closet. SIR B. A pox engross her! it appears too true. See you this casket, sir? GUM. My chain, my chain, my chain! my one and only chain! [_Exit._ SIR B. Thou runnest to much purpose now, Gumwater, yea! Is not a quean enough to answer for, but she must join a thief to’t? a thieving quean! nay, I have done with her, i’faith. ’Tis a sign sh’as been sick a’ late; for she’s a great deal worse than she was: by my troth, I would have pawned my life upon’t. Did she want any thing? was she not supplied? Nay, and liberally; for that’s an old man’s sin: We’ll feast our lechery, though we starve our kin. Is not my name sir Bounteous? am I not express’d there? Ah, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie! but I perceive, Though she have never so complete a friend, A strumpet’s love will have a waft[863] i’ th’ end, And distaste the vessel. I can hardly bear this; But say, I should complain; perhaps she has pawn’d ’em— ’S foot, the judges will but laugh at it, and bid her borrow more money of ’em; make the old fellow pay for’s lechery; that’s all the mends I get. I have seen the same case tried at Newbury the last ’sizes. Well, things must slip and sleep; I will dissemble it, Because my credit shall not lose her lustre: But whilst I live, I’ll neither love nor trust her. I ha’ done, I ha’ done, I ha’ done with her, i’faith! [_Exit._

SCENE IV.

_A Hall in_ HAREBRAIN’S _House_.

_Knocking within;[864] enter a Servant._

SER. Who’s that knocks? PEN. B. [_within_] A friend. [_Servant opens the door._

_Enter_ PENITENT BROTHEL.

SER. What’s your will, sir? PEN. B. Is master Harebrain[865] at home? SER. No, newly gone from it, sir. PEN. B. Where’s the gentlewoman his wife? SER. My mistress is within, sir. PEN. B. When came she in, I pray? SER. Who, my mistress? she was not out these two days, to my knowledge. PEN. B. No? trust me, I’d thought I’d seen her. I would request a word with her. SER. I’ll tell her, sir. PEN. B. I thank you. [_Exit Servant._] It likes me[866] worse and worse.

_Enter_ MISTRESS HAREBRAIN.

MIS. H. Why, how now, sir? ’twas desperately adventur’d; I little look’d for you until the morrow. PEN. B. No? Why what made you at my chamber then even now? MIS. H. I at your chamber? PEN. B. Pooh, dissemble not; Come, come, you were there. MIS. H. By my life, you wrong me, sir! PEN. B. What? MIS. H. First, you’re not ignorant what watch keeps o’er me; And for your chamber, as I live, I know’t not. PEN. B. Burst into sorrow then, and grief’s extremes, Whilst I beat on this flesh! MIS. H. What is’t disturbs you, sir? PEN. B. Then was the devil in your likeness there. MIS. H. Ha! PEN. B. The very devil assum’d thee formally;[867] That face, that voice, that gesture, that attire, E’en as it sits on thee, not a plait alter’d; That beaver band, the colour of that periwig,[868] The farthingale above the navel; all As if the fashion were his own invention. MIS. H. Mercy, defend me! PEN. B. To beguile me more, The cunning Succubus told me that meeting Was wrought ’a purpose by much wit and art; Wept to me; laid my vows before me; urg’d me; Gave me the private marks of all our love; Woo’d me in wanton and effeminate rhymes, And sung and danc’d about me like a fairy: And had not worthier cogitations blest me, Thy form, and his enchantments, had possess’d me. MIS. H. What shall become of me? my own thoughts doom me. PEN. B. Be honest, then the devil will ne’er assume thee: He has no pleasure in that shape t’ abide Where these two sisters reign not, lust or pride; He as much trembles at a constant mind As looser flesh at him: be not dismay’d; Spring, souls, for joy! his policies are betray’d! Forgive me, mistress Harebrain, on whose soul The guilt hangs double, My lust, and thy enticement! both I challenge; And therefore of due vengeance it appear’d To none but me, to whom both sins inher’d. What knows the lecher, when he clips[869] his whore, Whether it be the devil his parts adore? They’re both so like, that, in our natural sense, I could discern no change nor difference. No marvel, then, times should so stretch and turn; None for religion, all for pleasure burn. Hot zeal into hot lust is now transform’d; Grace into painting, charity into clothes; Faith into false hair, and put off as often. There’s nothing but our virtue knows a mean: He that kept open house, now keeps a quean. He will keep open still, that he commends; And there he keeps a table for his friends: And she consumes more than his[870] sire could hoard, Being more common than his house or board.

_Enter_ HAREBRAIN _behind_.

Live honest, and live happy, keep thy vows; She’s part a virgin whom but one man knows: Embrace thy husband, and beside him none; Having but one heart, give it but to one. MIS. H. I vow it on my knees, with tears true-bred, No man shall ever wrong my husband’s bed! PEN. B. Rise; I’m thy friend for ever. HAR. [_coming forward_] And I thine For ever and ever!—Let me embrace thee, sir, Whom I will love even next unto my soul, And that’s my wife. Two dear rare gems this hour presents me with, A wife that’s modest, and a friend that’s right: Idle suspect and fear, now take your flight! PEN. B. A happy inward peace crown both your joys! HAR. Thanks above utterance to you!—

_Enter Servant._

Now, the news? SER. Sir Bounteous Progress, sir, Invites you and my mistress to a feast On Tuesday next; his man attends without. HAR. Return both with our willingness and thanks.— [_Exit Servant._ I will entreat you, sir, to be my guest. PEN. B. Who, I, sir? HAR. Faith, you shall. PEN. B. Well, I’ll break strife. HAR. A friend’s so rare, I’ll sooner part from life. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT, _and the Courtesan striving from him_.

FOL. What, so coy, so strict? come, come! COUR. Pray, change your opinion, sir; I am not for that use. FOL. Will you but hear me? COUR. I shall hear that I would not. [_Exit._ FOL. ’S foot, this is strange! I’ve seldom seen a wench Stand upon stricter points: life, she will not Endure to be courted! does she e’er think to prosper? I’ll ne’er believe that tree can bring forth fruit That never bears a blossom; courtship’s a blossom, And often brings forth fruit in forty weeks. ’Twere a mad part in me now to turn over: If e’er[871] there were any hope on’t, ’tis at this instant. Shall I be madder now than e’er I’ve[872] been? I’m in the way, i’faith. Man’s never at high height of madness full Until he love, and prove a woman’s gull. I do protest in earnest, I ne’er knew At which end to begin t’ affect a woman Till this bewitching minute; I ne’er saw Face worth my object till mine eye met hers; I should laugh and[873] I were caught, i’faith: I’ll see her again, that’s certain, whate’er comes on’t, by your favour, ladies.[874]

_Enter Mother._

MOT. You’re welcome, sir. FOL. Know you the young gentlewoman that went in lately? MOT. I have best cause to know her; I’m her mother, sir. FOL. O, in good time. I like the gentlewoman well; a pretty contrived beauty. MOT. Ay, nature has done her part, sir. FOL. But she has one uncomely quality. MOT. What’s that, sir? FOL. ’S foot, she’s afraid of a man. MOT. Alas! impute that to her bashful spirit, She’s fearful of her honour. FOL. Of her honour? ’slid, I’m sure I cannot get Her maidenhead with breathing upon her, Nor can she lose her honour in her tongue. MOT. True; and I have often told her so; but what would you have of a foolish virgin, sir, a wilful virgin? I tell you, sir, I need not have been in that solitary estate that I am, had she had grace and boldness to have put herself forward; always timorsome, always backward! Ah, that same peevish[875] honour of hers has undone her and me both, good gentleman! the suitors, the jewels, the jointures, that have[876] been offered her! we had been made women[877] for ever: but what was her fashion? she could not endure the sight of a man, forsooth, but run and hole[878] herself presently. So choice of her honour, I am persuaded, whene’er she has husband, She’ll[879] e’en be a precedent for all married wives How to direct their actions and their lives. FOL. Have you not so much power with her to command her presence? MOT. You shall see straight what I can do, sir. [_Exit._ FOL. Would I might be hanged, if my love do not stretch to her deeper and deeper! Those bashful maiden humours take me prisoner. When there comes a restraint upon[880] flesh, we are always most greedy upon’t; and that makes your merchant’s wife oftentimes pay so dear for a mouthful. Give me a woman as she was made at first; simple of herself, without sophistication, like this wench: I cannot abide them when they have tricks, set speeches, and artful entertainments. You shall have some so impudently aspècted, They will outcry the forehead of a man, Make him blush first, and talk him into silence; And this is counted manly in a woman: It may hold so; sure, womanly it is not. No; If e’er I love, or any thing move me, ’Twill be a woman’s simple modesty.

_Re-enter Mother, bringing in strivingly the Courtesan._

COUR. Pray, let me go; why, mother, what do you mean? I beseech you, mother! is this your conquest now? Great glory ’tis to overcome a poor And silly virgin. FOL. The wonder of our time sits in that brow: I ne’er beheld a perfect maid[881] till now. MOT. Thou childish thing, more bashful than thou’rt wise, Why dost thou turn aside, and drown thine eyes? Look, fearful fool, there’s no temptation near thee; Art not asham’d that any flesh should fear thee?[882] Why, I durst pawn my life the gentleman Means no other but honest and pure love to thee.— How say you, sir? FOL. By my faith, not I, lady. MOT. Hark you there? what think You now, forsooth? what grieves your honour now? Or what lascivious breath intends to rear Against that maiden organ, your chaste ear? Are you resolv’d[883] now better of men’s hearts, Their faiths, and their affections? With you none, Or at most few, whose tongues and minds are one. Repent you now of your opinion past; Men love as purely as you can be chaste.— To her yourself, sir; the way’s broke before you; You have the easier passage. FOL. Fear not. Come, Erect thy happy graces in thy look; I am no curious wooer,[884] but, in faith, I love thee honourably. COUR. How mean you that, sir? FOL. ’S foot, as one loves a woman for a wife. MOT. Has the gentleman answered you, trow?[885] FOL. I do confess it truly to you both, My estate is yet but sickly; but I’ve a grandsire Will make me lord of thousands at his death. MOT. I know your grandsire well; she knows him better. FOL. Why, then, you know no fiction: my state then Will be a long day’s journey ’bove the waste, wench. MOT. Nay, daughter, he says true. FOL. And thou shalt often measure it in thy coach, And with the wheels’ track make a girdle for’t. MOT. Ah, ’twill be a merry journey! FOL. What, is’t a match? if’t be, clap hands and lips. [_Kisses Courtesan._ MOT. ’Tis done; there’s witness on’t. FOL. Why, then, mother, I salute you. [_Kisses Mother._ MOT. Thanks, sweet son. Son Follywit, come hither; if I might counsel thee, We’ll take her e’en[886] while the good mood’s upon her; Send for a priest, and clap’t up within this hour. FOL. By my troth, agreed, mother. MOT. Nor does her wealth consist all in her flesh, Though beauty be enough wealth for a woman; She brings a dowry of three hundred[887] with her. FOL. ’S foot, that will serve [un]til my grandsire dies: I warrant you he’ll drop away at fall a’ th’ leaf; If e’er[888] he reach to All Hollantide,[889] I’ll be hang’d. MOT. O yes, son, he’s a lusty old gentleman. FOL. Ah, pox, he’s given to women! he keeps a quean at this present. MOT. Fie! FOL. Do not tell my wife on’t. MOT. That were needless, i’faith. FOL. He makes a great feast upon the eleventh of this month, Tuesday next, and you shall see players there—I have one trick more to put upon him. [_Aside._]—My wife and yourself shall go thither before as my guests, and prove his entertainment: I’ll meet you there at night. The jest will be here; that feast which he makes will, unknown to him, serve fitly for our wedding-dinner: we shall be royally furnished, and get some charges by’t. MOT. An excellent course, i’faith, and a thrifty! why, son, Methinks you begin to thrive before you’re married. FOL. We shall thrive one day, wench, and clip[890] enough: Between our hopes there’s but a grandsire’s puff. [_Exit._ MOT. So, girl, here was a bird well caught. COUR. If ever, here: But what for’s grandsire, ’twill scarce please him well. MOT. Who covets fruit, ne’er cares from whence it fell: Thou’st wedded youth and strength; and wealth will fall: Last, thou’rt made honest. COUR. And that’s worth ’em all. [_Exeunt._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_A Room in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _House_.

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS:[891] GUMWATER _and Servants pass over the stage_.

SIR B. Have a care, blue coats.[892] Bestir yourself, master Gumwater; cast an eye into th’ kitchen; o’erlook the knaves a little. Every Jack has his friend to-day; this cousin, and that cousin, puts in for a dish of meat: a man knows not, till he make a feast, how many varlets he feeds; acquaintances swarm in every corner, like flies at Bartholomew-tide, that come up with drovers; ’s foot, I think they smell my kitchen seven mile about.—

_Enter_ HAREBRAIN, MIS. HAREBRAIN, _and_ PENITENT BROTHEL.

Master Harebrain,[893] and his sweet bedfellow! you’re very copiously welcome.

HAR. Sir, here’s an especial dear friend of ours: we were bold to make his way to your table. SIR B. Thanks for that boldness ever, good master Harebrain: is this your friend, sir? HAR. Both my wife’s friend and mine, sir. SIR B. Why, then, compendiously, sir, you’re welcome. PEN. B. In octavo I thank you, sir. SIR B. Excellently retorted, i’faith! he’s welcome for’s wit: I have my sorts of salutes, and know how to place ’em courtly. Walk in, sweet gentlemen, walk in; there’s a good fire i’ th’ hall; you shall have my sweet company instantly. HAR. Ay, good sir Bounteous. SIR B. You shall indeed, gentlemen. [_Exeunt_ HAREBRAIN, MIS. HAREBRAIN, _and_ PEN. BROTHEL.]

_Enter_ SEMUS.

—How now? what news brings thee in stumbling now? SEM. There are certain players come to town, sir, and desire to interlude before your worship. SIR B. Players? by the mass, they are welcome; they’ll grace my entertainment well: but for certain players, there thou liest, boy; they were never more uncertain in their lives; now up, and now down; they know not when to play, where to play, nor what to play: not when to play, for fearful fools; where to play, for puritan fools; nor what to play, for critical fools. Go, call ’em in. [_Exit_ SEMUS.]—How fitly the whoresons come upo’ th’ feast! troth, I was e’en wishing for ’em.

_Re-enter_ SEMUS _with_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others, disguised as players_.

O welcome, welcome, my friends! FOL. The month of May delights not in her flowers More than we joy in that sweet sight of yours. SIR B. Well acted, a’ my credit! I perceive he’s your best actor. SEM. He has greatest share,[894] sir, and may live of himself, sir. SIR B. What, what?—Put on your hat, sir, pray, put on; go to, wealth must be respected: let those that have least feathers stand bare. And whose men are you, I pray?—nay, keep on your hat still. FOL. We serve my lord Owemuch, sir. SIR B. My lord Owemuch? by my troth, the welcomest men alive! give me all your hands at once! That honourable gentleman, he lay at my house in a robbery once, and took all quietly, went away cheerfully: I made a very good feast for him: I never saw a man of honour bear things bravelier away. Serve my lord Owemuch? welcome, i’faith!—Some bastard[895] for my lord’s players! [_Exit_ SEMUS, _and returns with wine_.]—Where be your[896] boys? FOL. They come along with the waggon, sir. SIR B. Good, good; and which is your politician amongst you? now, i’faith, he that works out restraints, makes best legs at court, and has a suit made of purpose for the company’s business; which is he? come, be not afraid of him. FOL. I am he, sir. SIR B. Art thou he? give me thy hand. Hark in thine ear: thou rollest too fast to gather so much moss as thy fellow there; champ upon that. Ah, and what play shall we have, my masters? FOL. A pleasant, witty comedy, sir. SIR B. Ay, ay, ay; a comedy in any case, that I and my guests may laugh a little: what’s the name on’t? FOL. ’Tis called _The Slip_. SIR B. _The Slip?_ by my troth, a pretty name, and a glib one: go all, and slip into’t, as fast as you can. Cover a table for the players! First take heed of a lurcher; he cuts deep, he will eat up all from you.—Some sherry for my lord’s players there! Sirrah, why this will be a true feast, a right Mitre[897] supper, a play and all. [_Exeunt_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others, with_ SEMUS.] More lights!

_Enter Mother and Courtesan._

I called for light; here come in two are light enough for a whole house, i’faith. Dare the thief look me i’ th’ face? O impudent times! Go to, dissemble it! MOT. Bless you, sir Bounteous! SIR B. O welcome, welcome, thief, quean, and bawd! welcome all three! MOT. Nay, here’s but two on’s, sir. SIR B. ’A my troth, I took her for a couple; I’d have sworn there had been two faces there. MOT. Not all under one hood, sir. SIR B. Yes, faith, would I, to see mine eyes bear double. MOT. I’ll make it hold, sir; my daughter is a couple, She was married yesterday. SIR B. Buz![898] MOT. Nay, to no buzzard neither; a right hawk, Whene’er you know him. SIR B. Away! he cannot be but a rascal. Walk in, walk in, bold guests, that come unsent for! [_Exit Mother._

Pox,[899] I perceive how my jewels went now, To grace her marriage. [_Aside._ COUR. Would you with me, sir? SIR B. Ay; How hapt it, wench, you put the slip upon me, Not three nights since? I name it gently to you; I term it neither pilfer,[900] cheat, nor shark. COUR. You’re past my reach. SIR B. I’m old, and past your reach, very good; but you will not deny this, I trust. COUR. With a safe conscience, sir. SIR B. Yea? give me thy hand; fare thee[901] well.—I have done with her.[902] COUR. Give me your hand, sir; you ne’er yet begun with me. [_Exit._ SIR B. Whew, whew![903] O audacious age! She denies me, and all, when on her fingers I spied the ruby sit, that does betray her, And blushes for her fact! Well, there’s a time for’t, For all’s too little now for entertainment, Feast, mirth, ay, harmony, and the play to boot; A jovial season.—

_Re-enter_ FOLLYWIT.

How now, are you ready? FOL. Even upon readiness, sir. SIR B. Keep you your hat on. FOL. I have a suit to your worship. SIR B. O, cry you mercy; then you must stand bare. FOL. We could do all to the life of action, sir, both for the credit of your worship’s house, and the grace of our comedy—— SIR B. Cuds me, what else, sir? FOL. And for some defects, as the custom is, we would be bold to require your worship’s assistance. SIR B. Why, with all my heart; what is’t you want? speak. FOL. One’s a chain for a justice’s hat, sir. SIR B. Why, here, here, here, here, whoreson; will this serve your turn? [_Giving chain._ FOL. Excellent well, sir.[904] SIR B. What else lack you? FOL. We should use a ring with a stone in’t. SIR B. Nay, whoop, I have given too many rings already; talk no more of rings, I pray you: here, here, here, make this jewel serve for once. [_Giving jewel._ FOL. O this will serve, sir. SIR B. What, have you all now? FOL. All now, sir; only Time is brought i’ th’ middle of the play, and I would desire your worship’s watch-time. SIR B. My watch? with all my heart; only give Time a charge, that he be not fiddling with it. [_Giving watch._ FOL. You shall ne’er see that, sir. SIR B. Well, now you are furnish’d, sir, make haste; away. FOL. E’en as fast as I can, sir: I’ll set my fellows going first; They must have time and leisure, or they’re dull else. [_Exit_ SIR BOUNTEOUS. I’ll stay and speak a prologue, yet o’ertake ’em: I cannot have conscience, i’faith, to go away, And ne’er[905] a word to ’em. My grandsire has given me Three shares[906] here; sure I’ll do somewhat for ’em. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A Hall in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _House_.

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, HAREBRAIN, MIS. HAREBRAIN, PENITENT BROTHEL, _and other guests_; _Courtesan and Mother_; GUMWATER _and Servants_.

SIR B. More lights, more stools! sit, sit: the plays begins. HAR.[907] Have you players here, sir Bounteous? SIR B. We have ’em for you, sir; fine nimble comedians, proper actors most of them. PEN. B. Whose men, I pray you, sir? SIR B. O, there’s their credit, sir! they serve an honourable popular gentleman, ycleped[908] my lord Owemuch. HAR. My lord Owemuch? he was in Ireland lately. SIR B. O, you ne’er knew any of the name but were great travellers. HAR. How is the comedy called, sir Bounteous? SIR B. Marry, sir, _The Slip_. HAR. _The Slip?_

_Enter, for Prologue_, FOLLYWIT.

SIR B. Ay, and here the prologue begins to slip in upon’s. HAR. ’Tis so indeed, sir Bounteous. FOL. _We sing of wandering knights, what them betide, Who nor in one place nor one shape abide; They’re here now, and anon no scouts can reach ’em, Being every man well hors’d like a bold Beacham.[909] The play which we present no fault shall meet But one; you’ll say ’tis short, we’ll say ’tis sweet: ’Tis given much to dumb shews, which some praise; And, like the term, delights much in delays. So to conclude, and give the name her due, The play being call’d_ THE SLIP, _I vanish too_. [_Exit._ SIR B. Excellently well acted, and a nimble conceit! HAR. The prologue’s pretty, i’faith. PEN. B. And went off well. SIR B. Ay, that’s the grace of all, when they go away well, ah, hah![910] COUR. A’ my troth, and[911] I were not married, I could find in my heart to fall in love with that player now, and send for him to a supper.[912] I know some i’ th’ town that have done as much, and there took such a good conceit of their parts into th’ two-penny room,[913] that the actors have been found i’ th’ morning in a less compass than their stage, though ’twere ne’er so full of gentlemen.[914] SIR B. But, passion of me, where be these knaves? will they not come away? methinks they stay very long. PEN. B. O, you must bear a little, sir; they have many shifts to run into. SIR B. Shifts call you ’em? they’re horrible long things.

_Re-enter_ FOLLYWIT _in a fury_.

FOL. A pox of such fortune, the plot’s betrayed! all will come out! yonder they come, taken upon suspicion, and brought back by a constable. I was accursed to hold society with such coxcombs! what’s to be done? I shall be shamed for ever! My wife here, and all! ah, pox—by light, happily thought upon! the chain. Invention stick to me this once, and fail me ever hereafter! so, so—— [_Aside._ SIR B. Life, I say, where be these players?—O, are you come? troth, it’s time; I was e’en sending for you. HAR. How moodily he walks! what plays he trow?[915] SIR B. A[916] justice, upon my credit; I know by the chain there. FOL. _Unfortunate justice!_ SIR B. Ah—a—a— FOL. _In thy kin unfortunate! Here comes thy nephew now upon suspicion, Brought by a constable before thee; his vild[917] Associates with him; But so disguis’d, none knows him but myself. Twice have I set him free from officers’ fangs, And for his sake his fellows: let him look to’t; My conscience will permit but one wink more._ SIR B. Yea, shall we take justice winking? FOL. _For this time I have bethought a means to work thy freedom, Though hazarding myself. Should the law seize him, Being kin to me, ’twould blemish much my name: No; I’d rather lean to danger than to shame._ SIR B. A very explete justice! CON. [_within_] Thank you, good neighbours; let me alone with ’em now.

_Enter Constable with_ MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and the rest of_ FOLLYWIT’S _companions_.

MAW. ’S foot, who’s yonder? HOB. Dare he sit there? THIRD C. Follywit! FOURTH C. Captain! pooh— FOL. _How now, constable? what news with thee?_ CON. May it please your worship, sir, here are a company of auspicious fellows. SIR B. To me? pooh, turn to th’ justice, you whoreson hobby-horse!—This is some new player now; they put all their fools to the constable’s part still. FOL. _What’s the matter, constable? what’s the matter?_ CON. I have nothing to say to your worship.—They were all riding a’ horseback, an’t please your worship. SIR B. Yet again? a pox of all asses still! they could not ride a’ foot, unless ’twere in a bawdy-house. CON. The ostler told me they were all unstable fellows, sir. FOL. _Why, sure the fellow’s drunk?_ MAW. We spied that weakness in him long ago, sir; Your worship must bear with him, the man’s much o’erseen; Only in respect of his office we obey’d him. Both to appear conformable to law, And clear of all offence; for I protest, sir, He found us but a’ horseback. FOL. _What, he did?_ MAW. As I have a soul, that’s all, and all he can lay to us. CON. I’faith, you were not all riding away then? MAW. ’S foot, being a’ horseback, sir, that must needs follow. FOL. _Why, true, sir._ SIR B. Well said, justice! he helps his kinsman well. FOL. _Why, sirrah, do you use to bring gentlemen before us for riding away? what, will you have ’em stand still when they’re up, like Smug upo’ th’ white horse yonder? are your wits steeped? I’ll make you an example for all ditch[918] constables, how they abuse justice.—Here, bind him to this chair._ CON. Ha, bind him? ho! FOL. _If you want cords, use garters._ [MAWWORM, HOBOY, _&c. bind the Constable_. CON. Help, help, gentlemen! MAW. As fast as we can, sir. CON. Thieves, thieves! FOL. _A gag will help all this: keep less noise, you knave._ CON. O help! rescue the constable; O, O! [_They gag him._ SIR B. Ho, ho, ho, ho! FOL. _Why, la, you, who lets you[919] now? You may ride quietly; I’ll see you to Take horse myself, I have nothing else to do._ [_Exeunt_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others_. CON. O, O, O! SIR B. Ha, ha, ha! by my troth, the maddest piece of justice, gentlemen, that ever was committed. HAR. I’ll be sworn for the madness on’t, sir. SIR B. I am deceived, if this prove not a merry comedy and a witty. PEN. B. Alas, poor constable! his mouth’s open, and ne’er a wise word. SIR B. Faith, he speaks now e’en as many as he has done; he seems wisest when he gapes and says nothing. Ha, ha! he turns and tells his tale to me like an ass. What have I to do with their riding away? They may ride for me, thou whoreson coxcomb, thou! nay, thou art well enough served, i’faith. PEN. B. But what follows all this while, sir? methinks some should pass by before this time, and pity the constable. SIR B. By th’ mass, and you say true, sir.—Go, sirrah, step in; I think they have forgot themselves; call the knaves away; they’re in a wood, I believe. [_Exit Servant._ CON. Ay, ay, ay! SIR B. Hark, the constable says ay, they’re in a wood: ha, ha! GUM.[920] He thinks long of the time, sir Bounteous.

_Re-enter Servant._

SIR B. How now? when come they? SER. Alas, an’t please your worship, there’s not one of them to be found, sir! SIR B. How? HAR. What says the fellow? SER. Neither horse nor man, sir. SIR B. Body of me! thou liest. SER. Not a hair of either, sir. HAR. How now, sir Bounteous? SIR B. Cheated and defeated! Ungag that rascal; I’ll hang him for’s fellows; I’ll make him bring ’em out. [_They ungag Constable._ CON. Did not I tell your worship this before? Brought ’em before you for suspected persons? Stay’d ’em at town’s end upon warning given? Made signs that my very jaw-bone aches?[921] Your worship would not hear me; call’d me ass, Saving your worship’s presence, laugh’d at me. SIR B. Ha! HAR. I begin to taste it. SIR B. Give me leave, give me leave. Why, art not thou the constable i’ th’ comedy? CON. I’ th’ comedy? why, I am the constable i’ th’ commonwealth, sir. SIR B. I’m[922] gull’d, i’faith, I’m gull’d! When wast thou chose? CON. On Thursday last, sir. SIR B. A pox go with’t! there’t goes. PEN. B. I seldom heard jest match it. HAR. Nor I, i’faith? SIR B. Gentlemen, shall I entreat a courtesy? HAR. What is’t, sir? SIR B. Do not laugh at me seven year hence. PEN. B. We should betray and laugh at our own folly then, For, of my troth, none here but was deceiv’d in’t. SIR B. Faith, that’s some comfort yet; ha, ha! it was featly carried; troth, I commend their wits; before our faces make us asses, while we sit still and only laugh at ourselves! PEN. B. Faith, they were some counterfeit rogues, sir. SIR B. Why, they confess so much themselves; they said they’d play _The Slip_;[923] they should be men of their words. I hope the justice will have more conscience, i’faith, than to carry away a chain of a hundred mark[924] of that fashion. HAR. What, sir? SIR B. Ay, by my troth, sir; Besides a jewel and a jewel’s fellow, A good fair watch, that hung about my neck, sir. HAR. ’S foot, what did you mean, sir? SIR B. Methinks my lord Owemuch’s players should not scorn me so, i’faith; they will come, and bring all again, I know; push,[925] they will, i’faith; but a jest, certainly.

_Re-enter_ FOLLYWIT _in his own dress, with_ MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others_.

FOL. Pray, grandsire, give me your blessing. SIR B. Who? son Follywit? [_Kneeling._ FOL. This shews like kneeling after the play;[926] I praying for my lord Owemuch and his good countess, our honourable lady and mistress. [_Aside._ SIR B. Rise, richer by a blessing; thou art welcome. FOL. Thanks, good grandsire; I was bold to bring Those gentlemen, my friends. SIR B. They’re all welcome! Salute you that side, and I’ll welcome this side.— Sir, to begin with you. HAR. Master Follywit! FOL. I am glad ’tis our fortune so happily to meet, sir. SIR B. Nay, then, you know me not, sir. FOL. Sweet mistress Harebrain! SIR B. You cannot be too bold, sir. FOL. Our marriage known? COUR. Not a word yet. FOL. The better. SIR B. Faith, son, would you had come sooner with these gentlemen! FOL. Why, grandsire? SIR B. We had a play here. FOL. A play, sir? no? SIR B. Yes, faith! a pox a’ th’ author! FOL. Bless us all! why, were they such vild[927] ones, sir? SIR B. I am sure villanous ones, sir. FOL. Some raw, simple fools! SIR B. Nay, by th’ mass, these were enough for thievish knaves. FOL. What, sir? SIR B. Which way came you, gentlemen? you could not choose but meet ’em. FOL. We met a company with hampers after ’em. SIR B. O, those were they, those were they! A pox hamper ’em! FOL. Bless us all again! SIR B. They have hampered me finely, sirrah. FOL. How,[928] sir? SIR B. How, sir? I lent the rascals properties[929] to furnish out their play, a chain, a jewel, and a watch; and they watched their time, and rid quite away with ’em. FOL. Are they such creatures? SIR B. Hark, hark, gentlemen! by this light, the watch rings alarum in his pocket! there’s my watch come again, or the very cousin-german to’t: whose is’t, whose is’t? by th’ mass, ’tis he! hast thou one, son? prithee, bestow it upon thy grand-sire; I now look for mine again, i’faith: nay, come with a good will, or not at all; I’ll give thee a better thing.—A prize, a prize,[930] gentlemen! [_Draws chain, &c. out of_ FOLLYWIT’S _pocket_. HAR. Great or small? SIR B. At once I’ve[931] drawn chain, jewel, watch, and all. PEN. B. By my faith, you have a fortunate hand, sir! HAR. Nay, all to come at once! MAW. A vengeance of this foolery! FOL. Have I ’scaped the constable to be brought in by the watch? COUR. O destiny! have I married a thief, mother? MOT. Comfort thyself; thou art beforehand with him, daughter. SIR B. Why, son, why, gentlemen, how long have you been my lord Owemuch his servants, i’faith? FOL. Faith, grandsire, shall I be true to you? SIR B. I think ’tis time; thou’st been a thief already. FOL. I, knowing the day of your feast, and the natural inclination you have to pleasure and pastime, presumed upon your patience for a jest, as well to prolong your days as—— SIR B. Whoop! why, then, you took my chain along with you to prolong my days, did you? FOL. Not so neither, sir; And that you may be seriously assur’d Of my hereafter stableness of life, I have took another course. SIR B. What? FOL. Took a wife. SIR B. A wife! ’s foot, what is she for a fool[932] would marry thee, a madman? when was the wedding kept? in Bedlam? FOL. She’s both a gentlewoman and a virgin. SIR B. Stop there, stop there: would I might see her! FOL. You have your wish; she’s here. SIR B. Ah, ha, ha, ha! this makes amends for all. FOL. How now? MAW. Captain, do you hear? is she your wife in earnest? FOL. How then? MAW. Nothing, but pity you, sir. SIR B. Speak, son; is’t true? Can you gull us, and let a quean gull you? FOL. Ha! COUR. What I have been is past; be that forgiven, And have a soul true both to thee and heaven! FOL. Is’t come about? tricks are repaid, I see. SIR B. The best is, sirrah, you pledge none but me; And since I drink the top, take her—and, hark, I spice the bottom with a thousand mark.[933] FOL. By my troth, she is as good a cup of nectar as any bachelor needs to sip at. Tut, give me gold, it makes amends for vice; Maids without coin are caudles without spice. SIR B. Come, gentlemen, to th’ feast; let not time waste; We’ve[934] pleas’d our ear, now let us please our taste. Who lives by cunning, mark it, his fate’s cast; When he has gull’d all, then is himself the last. [_Exeunt omnes._[935]

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_The Catch[936] for the Fifth Act, sung by_ SIR BOUNTEOUS PROGRESS _to his guests_.

O for a bowl of fat canary, Rich Aristippus,[937] sparkling sherry! Some nectar else from Juno’s dairy; O these draughts would make us merry!

O for a wench! I deal in faces, And in other daintier things; Tickled am I with her embraces; Fine dancing in such fairy rings!

O for a plump, fat leg of mutton, Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and cony! None is happy but a glutton, None an ass but who wants money.

Wines, indeed, and girls are good, But brave victuals feast the blood: For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer, Jove would come down to surfeit here.

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THE ROARING GIRL.

[Illustration: Man Smoking Pipe]

_The Roaring Girle. Or Moll Cut-Purse. As it hath lately beene Acted on the Fortune-stage by the Prince his Players. Written by T. Middleton and T. Dekkar. Printed at London for Thomas Archer, and are to be sold at his shop in Popes head-pallace, neere the Royall Exchange._ 1611. 4to. On the title-page is the woodcut, a fac-simile of which is now given, representing Moll in her male dress, with these words running along the inner margin,— “_My case is alter’d, I must worke for my liuing_.”

This drama has been reprinted in the sixth vol. of the last two editions of Dodsley’s _Old Plays_.

_Roaring Boys_ was a cant term for the riotous, quarrelsome blades of the time, who abounded in London, and took pleasure in annoying its quieter inhabitants. Of _Roaring Girls_, the heroine of the present play was the choicest specimen. Her real name was Mary Frith, though she was most commonly known by that of Moll Cutpurse. According to the author of her _Life_,[938] “she was born A.D. 1589, in Barbican, at the upper end of Aldersgate Street,” p. 3; but Malone,[939] more correctly it should seem, has fixed her birth in 1584. “From the first entrance into a competency of age,” she assumed the doublet, “and to her dying day she would not leave it off, till the infirmity and weaknesse of nature had brought her a-bed to her last travail, changed it for a wastcoat, and her pettycoats for a winding-sheet,” _Life_, p. 18. She was distinguished in the different characters of bully, prostitute, procuress, fortune-teller, thief, pickpocket, receiver of stolen goods, and forger of writings. A letter from John Chamberlain to Mr. Carleton, dated Feb. 11, 1611-12, gives the following account of her doing penance: “The last Sunday Moll Cutpurse, a notorious baggage that used to go in man’s apparel, and challenged the field of diverse gallants; was brought to the same place [Paul’s Cross], where she wept bitterly, and seemed very penitent; but it is since doubted she was maudlin drunk, being discovered to have tippel’d of three quarts of sack before she came to her penance. She had the daintiest preacher or ghostly father that ever I saw in the pulpit, one Radcliffe of Brazen-Nose College in Oxford, a likelier man to have led the revels in some inn of court, than to be where he was. But the best is, he did extreme badly, and so wearied the audience, that the best part went away, and the rest tarried rather to hear Moll Cutpurse than him.”[940] With the preceding extract let us compare what the “fair penitent” is made to say in the _Life_ already quoted: “Some promooting Apparitor, set on by an adversary of mine, whom I could never punctually know, cited me to appear in the Court of the Arches, where was an Accusation exhibited against me for wearing undecent and manly apparel. I was advised by my Proctor to demur to the Jurisdiction of the Court, as for a Crime, if such, not cognizable there or elsewhere; but he did it to spin out my Cause, and get my Mony; for in the conclusion, I was sentenced there to stand and do Penance in a White Sheet at Paul’s Cross, during morning Sermon on a Sunday,” p. 69.

We are told that she robbed General Fairfax of 250 Jacobuses upon Hounslow Heath, shot him through the arm, and killed two horses on which a couple of his servants rode; and that being closely pursued by some Parliamentarian officers quartered at Hounslow, to whom Fairfax told the adventure, and her horse failing her at Turnham Green, she was apprehended and carried to Newgate, after which she was condemned, but procured her pardon by giving her adversary 2000 pounds![941] The story seems to be not a little exaggerated.

Nor is the reader bound to believe the subjoined anecdote; but, as Moll had a house of her own “within 2 doors of the Globe Tavern in Fleet Street, over against the Conduit,” _Life_, p. 47, and appears to have acquired considerable property by her various rogueries, the circumstance of her supplying the wine is by no means improbable: “After that unnatural and detestable Rebellion of the Scots in 1638, upon his Majesties return home to London, where preparation was made for his Magnificent Entry, I was also resolved to show my Loyal and Dutiful Respects to the King in as ample manner as I could or might be permitted.... I was resolved in my own account to beare a part in the charge of this Solemnity; and therefore undertook to supply Fleetstreet Conduit adjacent to my House with Wine, to run continually for that triumphal Day, which I performed with no less Expence then Credit and delight, and the satisfaction of all Comers and Spectators. And as the King passed by me, I put out my Hand and caught Him by His, and grasped it very hard, saying, _Welcome Home_ CHARLES! His Majesty smiled, and I beleeve took me for some Mad Bold Beatrice or other, while the people shouted and made a noyse, in part at my Confidence and presumption, and in part for joy of the King’s Return. The rest of that Day I spent in jollity and carousing, and concluded the night with Fireworks and Drink. This celebrated Action of mine, it being the Town talk, made people look upon me at another rate then formerly.” _Life_, pp. 95-98.

A dropsy, from which she had long been suffering, and which, it is said, would probably have carried her off sooner if she had not indulged greatly in the use of tobacco—(for she gloried in being the first female smoker)—at last proved fatal to the Roaring Girl. In the Memoir above cited, she is represented as bidding adieu to the world “this three score and fourteenth year of my age,” p. 169. A MS.[942] states that she died at her house in Fleet Street, July 26, 1659; that she was buried in the church of Saint Bridget’s; and that she left twenty pounds by will, that the Conduit might run with wine when King Charles the Second should return. Granger says,[943] that her death took place in her 75th year.

She is supposed to be the person alluded to in Shakespeare’s _Twelfth Night_, where Sir Toby exclaims, “Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like _mistress Mall’s_ picture?” Act i. sc. 3.

On the books of the Stationers’ Company, August 1610, is entered “A Booke called the Madde Prancks of Merry Mall of the Bankside, with her Walks in Man’s Apparel, and to what Purpose. Written by John Day.”[944]

In _Rubbe and A great Cast. Epigrams. By Thomas Freeman, Gent._, 1614, 4to, is

“Epigram 90. _Of Moll Cutpurse disguised going._

“They say Mol’s honest, and it may bee so, But yet it is a shrewd presumption no: To touch but pitch, ’tis knowne it will defile; Moll weares the breech, what may she be the while? Sure shee that doth the shadow so much grace, What will shee when the substance comes in place?”

She figures in act ii. sc. 1 of Field’s _Amends for Ladies_,[945] 1618, where she is thus addressed:

——“Hence, lewd impudent! I know not what to term thee, man or woman, For Nature, shaming to acknowledge thee For either, hath produc’d thee to the world Without a sex: some say thou art a woman, Others, a man; and many, thou art both Woman and man; but I think rather, neither; Or man and horse, as the old Centaurs were feign’d.”

In _The Water-cormorant his Complaint against a Brood of Land-cormorants_ (first printed, I believe, in 1622), Taylor says,

“That if our Grand-fathers and Grand-dams should Rise from the dead, and these mad times behold, Amazed they halfe madly would admire At our fantasticke gestures and attire; And they would thinke that England in conclusion Were a meere bable Babell of confusion; That Muld-sack[946] for his most vnfashion’d fashions Is the fit patterne of their transformations; And _Mary Frith_ doth teach them modesty, For she doth keepe one fashion constantly, And therefore she deserues a Matrons praise, In these inconstant Moon-like changing dayes.” p. 6.—_Works_, ed. 1630.

From _The Witch of Edmonton_ (by W. Rowley, Dekker, and Ford, acted about 1623), we learn that a certain dog, used in baiting bulls and bears, was called _Moll Cutpurse_, after our heroine: act v. sc. 1. Ford’s _Works_, by Gifford, vol. ii. p. 547.

She is thus mentioned in Brome’s _Court Beggar_, acted 1632;

"CIT. Sprecious! How now! my fob has been fubd to-day of six pieces, and a dozen shillings at least.... My watch is gone out of my pocket too o’ th’ right side.... Ile go to honest _Moll_ about it presently." Act ii. sc. 1. _Five New Playes_, 1653.

In the following couplet of Butler (the second line of which Swift has transferred, with a slight alteration, into his _Baucis and Philemon_), the allusion is most probably to Moll Cutpurse, and not, as Grey thinks, to Mary Carlton;

“A bold Virago, stout and tall, As Joan of France, or _English Mall_.” _Hudibras_,