_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]
--------------
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]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A MAD WORLD, MY MASTERS.
--------------
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_.