Part 19

_Hip._ I don't understand you.

_Mons._ But I do, a pox take him! and the custom that so orders it, forsooth! that if a lady abuse or affront a man, presently the gallant must be beaten; nay, what's more unreasonable, if a woman abuse her husband, the poor cuckold must bear the shame as well as the injury. [_Aside._

_Hip._ But what's the matter, master? what was it you said?

_Ger._ I say, pleasant, cunning, jilting lady, though you make him a cuckold, it will not be revenge enough for me upon him for marrying you.

_Hip._ How! my surly, huffing, jealous, senseless, saucy master?

_Mons._ Nay, nay, faith, give losers leave to speak, losers of mistresses especially, ha! ha! ha! Besides, your anger is too great a favour for him; I scorn to honour him with mine you see.

_Hip._ I tell you, my saucy master, my cousin shall never be made that monstrous thing you mention, by me.

_Mons._ Thank you, I vow and swear, cousin; no, no, I never thought I should.

_Ger._ Sure you marry him by the sage maxim of your sex, which is, wittols make the best husbands, that is, cuckolds.

_Hip._ Indeed, master, whatsoever you think, I would sooner choose you for that purpose than him.

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! there she was with him, i'faith;--I thank you for that, cousin, I vow and swear.

_Hip._ Nay, he shall thank me for that too:--but how came you two to quarrel? I thought, cousin, you had had more wit than to quarrel, or more kindness for me than to quarrel here. What if my father, hearing the bustle, should have come in? he would have soon discovered our false dancing-master (for passion unmasks every man), and then the result of your quarrel had been my ruin.

_Mons._ Nay, you had both felt his desperate deadly daunting dagger:--there are your d's for you!

_Hip._ Go, go presently, therefore, and hinder my father from coming in, whilst I put my master into a better humour, that we may not be discovered, to the prevention of our wedding, or worse when he comes; go, go.

_Mons._ Well, well, I will, cousin.

_Hip._ Be sure you let him not come in this good while.

_Mons._ No, no, I warrant you.--[_Goes out and returns._]--But if he should come before I would have him, I'll come before him, and cough and hawk soundly, that you may not be surprised. Won't that do well, cousin?

_Hip._ Very well, pray begone.--[_Exit_ Monsieur.] Well, master, since I find you are quarrelsome and melancholy, and would have taken me away without a portion, three infallible signs of a true lover, faith here's my hand now in earnest, to lead me a dance as long as I live.

_Ger._ How's this! you surprise me as much, as when first I found so much beauty and wit in company with so much innocency. But, dearest, I would be assured of what you say, and yet dare not ask the question. You h----do not abuse me again? You h----will fool me no more sure?

_Hip._ Yes, but I will sure.

_Ger._ How? nay, I was afraid on't.

_Hip._ For, I say, you are to be my husband, and you say husbands must be wittols, and some strange things to boot.

_Ger._ Well, I will take my fortune.

_Hip._ But have a care, rash man.

_Ger._ I will venture.

_Hip._ At your peril; remember I wished you to have a care: forewarned, fore-armed.

_Prue._ Indeed now, that's fair; for most men are fore-armed before they are warned.

_Hip._ Plain dealing is some kind of honesty however, and few women would have said so much.

_Ger._ None but those who would delight in a husband's jealousy, as the proof of his love and her honour.

_Hip._ Hold, sir, let us have a good understanding betwixt one another at first, that we may be long friends. I differ from you in the point; for a husband's jealousy, which cunning men would pass upon their wives for a compliment, is the worst can be made 'em; for indeed it is a compliment to their beauty, but an affront to their honour.

_Ger._ But madam--

_Hip._ So that upon the whole matter I conclude, jealousy in a gallant is humble true love, and the height of respect, and only an undervaluing of himself to overvalue her; but in a husband 'tis arrant sauciness, cowardice, and ill-breeding, and not to be suffered.

_Ger._ I stand corrected, gracious miss.

_Hip._ Well, but have you brought the gentlemen fiddlers with you, as I desired?

_Ger._ They are below.

_Hip._ Are they armed well?

_Ger._ Yes, they have instruments too that are not of wood; but what will you do with them?

_Hip._ What did you think I intended to do with them? when I whispered you to bring gentlemen of your acquaintance instead of fiddlers, as my father desired you to bring, pray what did you think I intended?

_Ger._ Faith, e'en to make fools of the gentlemen fiddlers, as you had done of your gentleman dancing-master.

_Hip._ I intended 'em for our guard and defence against my father's Spanish and Guinea force, when we were to make our retreat from hence; and to help us to take the keys from my aunt, who has been the watchful porter of this house this twelve-month; and this design (if your heart do not fail you) we will put in execution as soon as you have given your friends below instructions.

_Ger._ Are you sure your heart will stand right still? You flinched last night, when I little expected it, I am sure.

_Hip._ The time last night was not so proper for us as now, for reasons I will give you. But besides that, I confess I had a mind to try whether your interest did not sway you more than your love; whether the twelve hundred pounds a-year I told you of had not made a greater impression in your heart than Hippolita: but finding it otherwise--yet hold, perhaps upon consideration you are grown wiser; can you yet, as I said, be so desperate, so out of fashion, as to steal a woman with nothing?

_Ger._ With you I can want nothing, nor can be made by anything more rich or happy.

_Hip._ Think well again; can you take me without the twelve hundred pounds a-year,--the twelve hundred pounds a-year?

_Ger._ Indeed, miss, now you begin to be unkind again, and use me worse than e'er you did.

_Hip._ Well, though you are so modest a gentleman as to suffer a wife to be put upon you with nothing, I have more conscience than to do it. I have the twelve hundred pounds a-year out of my father's power, which is yours, and I am sorry it is not the Indies to mend your bargain.

_Ger._ Dear miss, you but increase my fears, and not my wealth. Pray let us make haste away; I desire but to be secure of you:--come, what are you thinking of?

_Hip._ I am thinking if some little, filching, inquisitive poet should get my story, and represent it to the stage, what those ladies who are never precise but at a play would say of me now;--that I were a confident, coming piece, I warrant, and they would damn the poor poet for libelling the sex. But sure, though I give myself and fortune away frankly, without the consent of my friends, my confidence is less than theirs who stand off only for separate maintenance.

_Ger._ They would be widows before their time, have a husband and no husband:--but let us begone, lest fortune should recant my happiness, now you are fixed, my dearest miss. [_He kisses her hand._

_Re-enter_ Monsieur, _coughing, followed by_ Don DIEGO.

_Hip._ Oh, here's my father!

_Don._ How now, sir!--What, kissing her hand! what means that, friend, ha?--Daughter, ha! do you permit this insolence, ha? _voto á mi honra!_

_Ger._ We are prevented again. [_Aside to_ HIPPOLITA.

_Hip._ Ha! ha! ha! you are so full of your Spanish jealousy, father; why, you must know he is a city dancing-master, and they, forsooth, think it fine to kiss the hand at the honour before the corant.

_Mons._ Ay, ay, ay, uncle, don't you know that?

_Don._ Go to, go to, you are an easy French fool; there's more in it than so, look you.

_Mons._ I vow and swear there's nothing more in't, if you'll believe one.--[_Aside to_ HIPPOLITA _and_ GERRARD.] Did not I cough and hawk? a jealous, prudent husband could not cough and hawk louder at the approach of his wife's chamber in visiting time, and yet you would not hear me. He'll make now ado about nothing, and you'll be discovered both.

_Don._ Umph, umph,--no, no, I see it plain, he is no dancing-master: now I have found it out, and I think I can see as far into matters as another: I have found it now, look you.

_Ger._ My fear was prophetical. [_Aside to_ HIPPOLITA.

_Hip._ What shall we do?--nay, pray, sir, do not stir yet. [GERRARD _offers to go out with her._

_Enter_ Mrs. CAUTION.

_Mrs. Caut._ What's the matter, brother? what's the matter?

_Don._ I have found it out, sister, I have found it out, sister; this villain here is no dancing-master--but a dishonourer of my house and daughter; I caught him kissing her hand.

_Mons._ Pish! pish! you are a strange Spanish kind of an uncle, that you are.--A dishonourer of your daughter, because he kissed her hand! pray how could he honour her more? he kissed her hand, you see, while he was making his honour to her.

_Don._ You are an unthinking, shallow French fop, _voto!_--But I tell you, sister, I have thought of it, and have found it out; he is no dancing-master, sister. Do you remember the whispering last night? I have found out the meaning of that too; and I tell you, sister, he's no dancing-master, I have found it out.

_Mrs. Caut._ You found it out! marry come up, did not I tell you always he was no dancing-master?

_Don._ You tell me! you silly woman, what then? what of that?--You tell me! d'ye think I heeded what you told me? but I tell you now I have found it out.

_Mrs. Caut._ I say I found it out.

_Don._ I say 'tis false, gossip, I found him out.

_Mrs. Caut._ I say I found him out first, say you what you will.

_Don._ Sister, mum, not such a word again, _guarda!_--You found him out!

_Mrs. Caut._ I must submit, or dissemble like other prudent women, or--[_Aside._

_Don._ Come, come, sister, take it from me, he is no dancing-master.

_Mrs. Caut._ O yes, he is a dancing-master.

_Don._ What! will you be wiser than I every way?--remember the whispering, I say.

_Mrs. Caut._ [_Aside._] So, he thinks I speak in earnest, then I'll fit him still.--[_To_ Don DIEGO.] But what do you talk of their whispering! they would not whisper any ill before us, sure.

_Don._ Will you still be an idiot, a dolt, and see nothing?

_Mons._ Lord! you'll be wiser than all the world, will you? are we not all against you? pshaw! pshaw! I ne'er saw such a _donissimo_ as you are, I vow and swear.

_Don._ No, sister, he's no dancing-master; for now I think on't too, he could not play upon the fiddle.

_Mrs. Caut._ Pish! pish! what dancing-master can play upon a fiddle without strings?

_Don._ Again, I tell you he broke them on purpose, because he could not play; I have found it out now, sister.

_Mrs. Caut._ Nay, you see farther than I, brother. [GERRARD _offers to lead her out._

_Hip._ For Heaven's sake stir not yet. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.

_Don._ Besides, if you remember, they were perpetually putting me out of the room; that was, sister, because they had a mind to be alone, I have found that out too:--now, sister, look you, he is no dancing-master.

_Mrs. Caut._ But has he not given her a lesson often before you?

_Don._ Ay, but sister, he did not go about his business like a dancing-master; but go, go down to the door, somebody rings. [_Exit_ Mrs. CAUTION.

_Mons._ I vow and swear, uncle, he is a dancing-master; pray be appeased.--Lord! d'ye think I'd tell you a lie?

_Don._ If it prove to be a lie, and you do not confess it, though you are my next heir after my daughter, I will disown thee as much as I do her, for thy folly and treachery to thyself, as well as me.--You may have her, but never my estate, look you.

_Mons._ How! I must look to my hits then. [_Aside._

_Don._ Look to't.

_Mons._ [_Aside._] Then I had best confess all, before he discover all, which he will soon do.--

_Enter_ Parson.

O here's the parson too! he won't be in choler, nor brandish toledo before the parson sure?--[_To_ Don DIEGO.] Well, uncle, I must confess, rather than lose your favour, he is no dancing-master.

_Don._ No!

_Ger._ What! has the fool betrayed us then at last, nay, then 'tis time to be gone; come away, miss. [_Going out._

_Don._ Nay, sir, if you pass this way, my toledo will pass that way, look you. [_Thrusts at him with his sword._

_Hip._ O hold, Mr. Gerrard!--Hold father!

_Mons._ I tell you, uncle, he's an honest gentleman, means no hurt, and came hither but upon a frolic of mine and your daughter's. [_Stops_ Don DIEGO.

_Don. Ladron! traidor!_

_Mons._ I tell you all's but a jest, a mere jest, I vow and swear.

_Don._ A jest!--jest with my honour, _voto!_ ha! no family to dishonour but the grave, wise, noble, honourable, illustrious, puissant, and right worshipful family of the Formals!--Nay, I am contented to reprieve you, till you know who you have dishonoured, and convict you of the greatness of your crime before you die. We are descended, look you--

_Mons._ Nay, pray, uncle, hear me.

_Don._ I say, we are descended--

_Mons._ 'Tis no matter for that.

_Don._ And my great, great, great-grandfather was--

_Mons._ Well, well, I have something to say more to the purpose.

_Don._ My great, great, great-grandfather, I say, was--

_Mons._ Well, a pinmaker in--

_Don._ But he was a gentleman for all that, fop, for he was a sergeant to a company of the trainbands; and my great-great-grandfather was--

_Mons._ Was his son, what then? won't you let me clear this gentleman?

_Don._ He was, he was--

_Mons._ He was a felt-maker, his son a wine-cooper, your father a vintner, and so you came to be a Canary merchant.

_Don._ But we were still gentlemen, for our coat was, as the heralds say--was--

_Mons._ Was! your sign was the Three Tuns, and the field Canary; now let me tell you, this honest gentleman--

_Don._ Now, that you should dare to dishonour this family!--by the graves of my ancestors in Great St. Helen's church--

_Mons._ Yard.

_Don._ Thou shalt die for't, _ladron!_ [_Runs at_ GERRARD.

_Mons._ Hold, hold, uncle, are you mad?

_Hip._ Oh! oh!--

_Mons._ Nay then, by your own Spanish rules of honour (though he be my rival), I must help him; [_Draws his sword._] since I brought him into danger.--[_Aside._] Sure he will not show his valour upon his nephew and son-in-law, otherwise I should be afraid of showing mine.--Here, Mr. Gerrard, go in here, nay, you shall go in, Mr. Gerrard, I'll secure you all; and, parson, do you go in too with 'em, for I see you are afraid of a sword and the other world, though you talk of it so familiarly, and make it so fine a place. [_Opens a door, and thrusts_ GERRARD, HIPPOLITA, Parson, _and_ PRUE _in, then shuts it, and guards it with his sword._

_Don. Tu quoque, Brute!_

_Mons._ Nay, now, uncle, you must understand reason.--What, you are not only a Don, but you are a Don Quixote too, I vow and swear!

_Don._ Thou spot, sploach[66] of my family and blood! I will have his blood, look you.

_Mons._ Pray, good Spanish uncle, have but patience to hear me. Suppose--I say, suppose he had done, done, done the feat to your daughter.

_Don._ How! done the feat! done the feat: done the feat! _en hora mala!_

_Mons._ I say, suppose, suppose--

_Don._ Suppose!

_Mons._ I say, suppose he had, for I do but suppose it; well, I am ready to marry her, however. Now marriage is as good a solder for cracked female honour as blood; and can't you suffer the shame but for a quarter of an hour, till the parson has married us? and then if there be any shame, it becomes mine; for here in England, the father has nothing to do with the daughter's business, honour, what d'ye call't, when once she's married, d'ye see.

_Don._ England! what d'ye tell me of England? I'll be a Spaniard still, _voto á mi honra!_ and I will be revenged.--Pedro! Juan! Sanchez! [_Calls at the door._

_Re-enter_ Mrs. CAUTION, _followed by_ FLIRT _and_ FLOUNCE, _in vizard masks._

_Mrs. Caut._ What's the matter, brother?

_Don._ Pedro! Sanchez! Juan!--but who are these, sister? are they not men in women's clothes? what make they here?

_Mrs. Caut._ They are relations, they say, of my cousin's, who pressed in when I let in the parson; they say my cousin invited 'em to his wedding.

_Mons._ Two of my relations!--[_Aside._] Ha! they are my cousins indeed of the other night; a pox take 'em!--but that's no curse for 'em; a plague take 'em then!--but how came they here?

_Don._ [_Aside._] Now must I have witnesses too of the dishonour of my family; it were Spanish prudence to despatch 'em away out of the house, before I begin my revenge. [_To_ FLIRT _and_ FLOUNCE.] What are you? what make you here? who would you speak with?

_Flirt._ With monsieur.

_Don._ Here he is.

_Mons._ Now will these jades discredit me, and spoil my match just in the coupling minute. [_Aside._

_Don._ Do you know 'em?

_Mons._ Yes, sir, sure, I know 'em.--[_Aside to them._] Pray, ladies, say as I say, or you will spoil my wedding, for I am just going to be married; and if my uncle or mistress should know who you are, it might break off the match.

_Flou._ We come on purpose to break the match.

_Mons._ How!

_Flirt._ Why, d'ye think to marry, and leave us so in the lurch?

_Mons._ What do the jades mean? [_Aside._

_Don._ Come, who are they? what would they have? If they come to the wedding, ladies, I assure you there will be none to-day here.

_Mons._ They won't trouble you, sir; they are going again.--Ladies, you hear what my uncle says; I know you won't trouble him.--[_Aside._] I wish I were well rid of 'em.

_Flou._ You shall not think to put us off so. [_Aside._

_Don._ Who are they? what are their names?

_Flirt._ We are, sir--

_Mons._ Nay, for Heaven's sake don't tell who you are, for you will undo me, and spoil my match infallibly. [_Aside to them._

_Flou._ We care not, 'tis our business to spoil matches.

_Mons._ You need not, for I believe married men are your best customers, for greedy bachelors take up with their wives.

_Don._ Come, pray ladies, if you have no business here, be pleased to retire; for few of us are in humour to be so civil to you as you may deserve.

_Mons._ Ay, prithee, dear jades, get you gone.

_Flirt._ We will not stir.

_Don._ Who are they, I say, fool? and why don't they go?

_Flou._ We are, sir--

_Mons._ Hold! hold!--They are persons of honour and quality, and--

_Flirt._ We are no persons of honour and quality, sir, we are--

_Mons._ They are modest ladies, and being in a kind of disguise, will not own their quality.

_Flou._ We modest ladies!

_Mons._ Why, sometimes you are in the humour to pass for women of honour and quality; prithee, dear jades, let your modesty and greatness come upon you now. [_Aside to them._

_Flirt._ Come, sir, not to delude you, as he would have us, we are--

_Mons._ Hold! hold!--

_Flirt._ The other night at the French-house--

_Mons._ Hold, I say!--'Tis even true as Gerrard says, the women will tell, I see.

_Flou._ If you would have her silent, stop her mouth with that ring.

_Mons._ Will that do't? here, here--'Tis worth one hundred and fifty pounds.--[_Takes off his ring and gives it her._] But I must not lose my match, I must not lose a trout for a fly.--That men should live to hire women to silence!

_Re-enter_ GERRARD, HIPPOLITA, Parson, _and_ PRUE.

_Don._ Oh, are you come again. [_Draws his sword and runs at them_, Monsieur _holds him._

_Mons._ Oh! hold! hold! uncle!--What, are you mad, Gerrard, to expose yourself to a new danger? why would you come out yet?

_Ger._ Because our danger now is over, I thank the parson there. And now we must beg-- [GERRARD _and_ HIPPOLITA _kneel._

_Mons._ Nay, faith, uncle, forgive him now, since he asks you forgiveness upon his knees, and my poor cousin too.

_Hip._ You are mistaken, cousin; we ask him blessing, and you forgiveness.

_Mons._ How, how, how! what do you talk of blessing? what, do you ask your father blessing and he ask me forgiveness? but why should he ask me forgiveness?

_Hip._ Because he asks my father's blessing.

_Mons._ Pish! pish! I don't understand you, I vow and swear.

_Hip._ The parson will expound it to you, cousin.

_Mons._ Hey! what say you to it, parson?

_Par._ They are married, sir.

_Mons._ Married!

_Mrs. Caut._ Married! so, I told you what 'twould come to.

_Don._ You told us!--

_Mons._ Nay, she is setting up for the reputation of a witch.

_Don._ Married!--Juan, Sanchez, Pedro, arm! arm! arm!

_Mrs. Caut._ A witch! a witch!

_Hip._ Nay, indeed, father, now we are married, you had better call the fiddlers.--Call 'em, Prue, quickly. [_Exit_ PRUE.

_Mons._ Who do you say, married, man?

_Par._ Was I not sent for on purpose to marry 'em? why should you wonder at it?

_Mons._ No, no, you were to marry me, man, to her; I knew there was a mistake in't somehow; you were merely mistaken, therefore you must do your business over again for me now.--The parson was mistaken, uncle, it seems, ha! ha! ha!

_Mrs. Caut._ I suppose five or six guineas made him make the mistake, which will not be rectified now, nephew. They'll marry all that come near 'em, and, for a guinea or two, care not what mischief they do, nephew.

_Don._ Married!--Pedro! Sanchez!

_Mons._ How! and must she be his wife then for ever and ever? have I held the door then for this, like a fool as I was?

_Mrs. Caut._ Yes, indeed!

_Mons._ Have I worn _golilla_ here for this? little breeches for this?

_Mrs. Caut._ Yes, truly.

_Mons._ And put on the Spanish honour with the habit, in defending my rival? nay then, I'll have another turn of honour in revenge. Come, uncle, I'm of your side now, sa! sa! sa! but let's stay for our force; Sanchez, Juan, Pedro, arm! arm! arm!

_Enter two_ Blacks _and a_ Spaniard, _followed by_ PRUE, MARTIN, _and five other gentlemen-like_ Fiddlers.

_Don._ Murder the villain! kill him! [_Running all upon_ GERRARD.

_Mar._ Hold! hold! sir!

_Don._ How now! who sent for you, friends?

_Mar._ We fiddlers, sir, often come unsent for.

_Don._ And you are often kicked down stairs for't too.

_Mar._ No, sir, our company was never kicked, I think.

_Don._ Fiddlers, and not kicked! then to preserve your virgin honour, get you down stairs quickly; for we are not at present disposed much for mirth, _voto!_