_Ser._ (_within._) My lord calls?

_Hip._ Send me the footman.

_Ser._ (_within._) Call the footman to my lord.—Bryan, Bryan! 224

_Re-enter_ BRYAN.

_Hip._ It can be no man else, that Irish Judas,

Bred in a country where no venom prospers

But in the nation’s blood, hath thus betray’d me.—

Slave, get you from your service.

_Bry._ Faat meanest thou by this now?

_Hip._ Question me not, nor tempt my fury, villain! 230

Couldst thou turn all the mountains in the land

To hills of gold, and give me, here thou stayest not.

_Bry._ I’ faat, I care not.

_Hip._ Prate not, but get thee gone, I shall send else. 234

_Bry._ Ay, do predy, I had rather have thee make a scabbard of my

guts, and let out all de Irish puddings in my poor belly, den to be

a false knave to de, i’ faat! I will never see dine own sweet face

more. _A mawhid deer a gra_,[2515] fare dee well, fare dee well; I

will go steal (240) cows again in Ireland. _Exit._

_Hip._ He ’s damn’d that raised this whirlwind, which hath blown

Into her eyes this jealousy: yet I ’ll on,

I ’ll on, stood armed devils staring in my face.

To be pursued in flight, quickens the race, 245

Shall my blood-streams by a wife’s lust be barr’d?

Fond[2516] woman, no: iron grows by strokes more hard;

Lawless desires are seas scorning all bounds,

Or sulphur, which being ramm’d up, more confounds;

Struggling with madmen madness nothing tames; 250

Winds wrestling with great fires incense the flames. _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2517]

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man],

MATHEO [_following_].

_Bell._ How now, what ails your master?

_Orl._ Has taken a younger brother’s purge, forsooth, and that works

with him.

_Bell._ Where is his cloak and rapier?

_Orl._ He has given up his cloak, and his rapier (5) is bound to the

peace. If you look a little higher, you may see that another hath

ent’red into hatband for him too. Six and four[2518] have put him

into this sweat.

_Bell._ Where’s all his money? 10

_Orl._ ’T is put over by exchange; his doublet was going to be

translated, but for me. If any man would ha’ lent but half a ducat

on his beard, the hair of it had stuft a pair of breeches by this

time. I had but one poor penny, and (15) that I was glad to niggle

out,[2519] and buy a holly-wand to grace him through the street. As

hap was, his boots were on, and them I dustied, to make people think

he had been riding, and I had run by him.— 20

_Bell._ Oh me!——How does my sweet Matheo? [MATHEO _comes forward_.]

_Mat._ Oh rogue, of what devilish stuff are these dice made of,—the

parings of the devil’s corns of his toes, that they run thus damnably?

_Bell._ I prithee, vex not. 25

_Mat._ If any handicraft’s-man was ever suff’red to keep shop in

hell, it will be a dice-maker; he’s able to undo more souls than the

devil; I play’d with mine own dice, yet lost. Ha’ you any money? 30

_Bell._ ’Las, I ha’ none.

_Mat._ Must have money, must have some, must have a cloak, and

rapier, and things. Will you go set your lime-twigs, and get me some

birds, some money? 35

_Bell._ What lime-twigs should I set?

_Mat._ You will not then? Must have cash and pictures, do ye hear,

frailty? Shall I walk in a Plymouth cloak,[2520] that ’s to say, like

a rogue, in my hose and doublet, and a crabtree cudgel (40) in my

hand, and you swim in your satins? Must have money, come! [_Taking

off her gown._]

_Orl._ Is ’t bed-time, master, that you undo my mistress?

_Bell._ Undo me? Yes, yes, at these riflings I

Have been too often.

_Mat._ Help to flay, Pacheco. 45

_Orl._ Flaying call you it?

_Mat._ I ’ll pawn you, by th’ lord, to your very eyebrows.

_Bell._ With all my heart, since Heaven will have me poor;

As good be drown’d at sea, as drown’d at shore.

_Orl._ Why, hear you, sir? I ’faith, do not make away her gown. 51

_Mat._ Oh! it’s summer, it’s summer; your only fashion for a woman

now is to be light, to be light.

_Orl._ Why, pray sir, employ some of that (55) money you have of mine.

_Mat._ Thine? I ’ll starve first, I ’ll beg first; when I touch a

penny of that, let these fingers’ ends rot.

_Orl._ [_Aside._] So they may, for that ’s past (60) touching. I saw

my twenty pounds fly high.

_Mat._ Knowest thou never a damn’d broker about the city?

_Orl._ Damn’d broker? Yes, five hundred.

_Mat._ The gown stood me in[2521] above twenty (65) ducats; borrow

ten of[2522] it. Cannot live without silver.

_Orl._ I ’ll make what I can of it, sir, I ’ll be your broker,—

[_Aside_] But not your damn’d broker. Oh thou scurvy knave! 70

What makes a wife turn whore, but such a slave?

_Exit_ [_with_ BELLAFRONT’S _gown_].

_Mat._ How now, little chick, what ailest? Weeping for a handful of

tailor’s shreds? Pox on them, are there not silks enow at mercer’s?

_Bell._ I care not for gay feathers, I. 75

_Mat._ What dost care for then? Why dost grieve?

_Bell._ Why do I grieve? A thousand sorrows strike

At one poor heart, and yet it lives. Matheo,

Thou art a gamester; prithee, throw at all, 80

Set all upon one cast. We kneel and pray,

And struggle for life, yet must be cast away.

Meet misery quickly then, split all, sell all,

And when thou ’st sold all, spend it; but, I beseech thee,

Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more; 85

To get it wouldst thou have me play the whore?

_Mat._ ’T was your profession before I married you.

_Bell._ Umh? it was indeed. If all men should be branded

For sins long since laid up, who could be saved?

The quarter-day ’s at hand, how will you do 91

To pay the rent, Matheo?

_Mat._ Why, do as all of our occupation do against[2523]

quarter-days: break up house, remove, shift your lodgings: pox a’

your quarters! 95

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Where ’s this gallant?

_Mat._ Signor Ludovico? how does my little Mirror of

Knighthood?[2524] This is kindly done, i’ faith: welcome, by my troth.

_Lod._ And how dost, frolic?—Save you fair lady.— 100

Thou lookest smug and bravely, noble Mat.

_Mat._ Drink and feed, laugh and lie warm.

_Lod._ Is this thy wife?

_Mat._ A poor gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a’nights. 105

_Lod._ Pay custom to your lips, sweet lady. [_Kisses her._]

_Mat._ Borrow some shells[2525] of him.—Some wine, sweetheart.

_Lod._ I ’ll send for ’t then, i ’faith.

_Mat._ You send for ’t!—Some wine, I prithee.

_Bell._ I ha’ no money. 110

_Mat._ ’Sblood, nor I.—What wine love you, signor?

_Lod._ Here! [_offering money_] or I ’ll not stay, I

protest; trouble the gentlewoman too much? _Exit_ BELLAFRONT.

And what news flies abroad, Matheo? 114

_Mat._ Troth, none. Oh, signor, we ha’ been merry in our days.

_Lod._ And no doubt shall again.

The divine powers never shoot darts at men

Mortal, to kill them.

_Mat._ You say true. 120

_Lod._ Why should we grieve at want? Say the world made thee

Her minion, that thy head lay in her lap,

And that she danc’d thee on her wanton knee,

She could but give thee a whole world: that ’s all, 124

And that all’s nothing; the world’s greatest part

Cannot fill up one corner of thy heart.

Say the three corners were all fill’d, alas!

Of what art thou possest? A thin blown glass,

Such as is by boys puft into the air!

Were twenty kingdoms thine, thou ’dst live in care: 130

Thou couldst not sleep the better, nor live longer,

Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger.

If, then, thou want’st, thus make that want thy pleasure,

No man wants all things, nor has all in measure.

_Mat._ I am the most wretched fellow: sure (135) some left-handed

priest hath christ’ned me. I am so unlucky; I am never out of one

puddle or another; still falling.

_Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT [_with wine_] _and_ ORLANDO.

Fill out wine to my little finger.—With my heart, i’ faith.

[_Drinks._] 140

_Lod._ Thanks, good Matheo. To your own sweet self. [_Drinks._]

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO.

_Orl._ All the brokers’ hearts, sir, are made of flint. I can with

all my knocking strike but six sparks of fire out of them; here’s six

ducats, if you’ll take them. 146

_Mat._ Give me them! [_Taking money._] An evil conscience gnaw them

all! Moths and plagues hang upon their lousy wardrobes!

_Lod._ Is this your man, Matheo? 150

[_Mat._] An old serving-man.

_Orl._ You may give me t’ other half too, sir; that’s the beggar.

_Lod._ What hast there,—gold? 154

_Mat._ A sort[2526] of rascals are in my debt, God knows what, and

they feed me with bits, with crumbs, a pox choke them.

_Lod._ A word, Matheo; be not angry with me;

Believe it that I know the touch of time, 159

And can part copper, though it be gilded o’er,

From the true gold: the sails which thou dost spread,

Would show well if they were not borrowed.

The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither,

I give my self unto thee; prithee, use me,

I will bestow on you a suit of satin, 165

And all things else to fit a gentleman,

Because I love you.

_Mat._ Thanks, good, noble knight!

_Lod._ Call on me when you please; till then farewell. _Exit._

_Mat._ Hast angled? Hast cut up this fresh salmon? 170

_Bell._ Wouldst have me be so base?

_Mat._ It’s base to steal, it’s base to be a whore:

Thou ’lt be more base, I’ll make thee keep a door.[2527] _Exit._

_Orl._ I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he? 175

_Bell._ Thou seest he does.

_Orl._ Nay then, it’s well. I set my brains upon an upright

last;[2528] though my wits be old, yet they are like a wither’d

pippin, wholesome. Look you, mistress, I told him I had but six 180

ducats of the knave broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for

you.

_Bell._ Thou should’st have given him all.

_Orl._ What, to fly high?

_Bell._ Like waves, my misery drives on misery. _Exit._

_Orl._ Sell his wife’s clothes from her back? (185) Does any

poulterer’s wife pull chickens alive? He riots all abroad, wants all

at home: he dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns.

I’ll give him hook and line, a little more for all this; 190

Yet sure i ’th’ end he ’ll delude all my hopes,

And show me a French trick danc’d on the ropes.[2529] _Exit._ 195

[SCENE III.]

_Enter at one door_ LODOVICO _and_ CAROLO; _at another_ BOTS, _and_

Mistress HORSELEECH. CANDIDO _and his_ Wife _appear in the Shop_.

_Lod._ Hist, hist, Lieutenant Bots! How dost, man?

_Car._ Whither are you ambling, Madam Horseleech?

_Mis. H._ About worldly profit, sir: how (5) do your worships?

_Bots._ We want tools, gentlemen, to furnish the trade: they wear out

day and night, they wear out till no metal be left in their back. We

hear of two or three new wenches are come (10) up with a carrier, and

your old goshawk here is flying at them.

_Lod._ And, faith, what flesh have you at home?

_Mis. H._ Ordinary dishes; by my troth, (15) sweet men, there’s few

good i’ th’ city. I am as well furnisht as any, and, though I say it,

as well custom’d.

_Bots._ We have meats of all sorts of dressing; we have stew’d meat

for your Frenchman, (20) pretty light picking meat for your Italian,

and that which is rotten roasted for Don Spaniardo.

_Lod._ A pox on ’t.

_Bots._ We have poulterer’s ware for your sweet bloods, as dove,

chicken, duck, teal, (25) woodcock, and so forth: and butcher’s meat

for the citizen: yet muttons[2530] fall very bad this year.

_Lod._ Stay, is not that my patient linen-draper yonder, and my fine

young smug mistress, (30) his wife?

_Car._ Sirrah,[2531] grannam, I ’ll give thee for thy fee twenty

crowns, if thou canst but procure me the wearing of yon velvet cap.

_Mis. H._ You ’d wear another thing besides (35) the cap. You’re a

wag.

_Bots._ Twenty crowns? We ’ll share, and I ’ll be your pully to draw

her on.

_Lod._ Do’t presently; we’ll ha’ some sport.

_Mis. H._ Wheel you about, sweet men: (40) do you see? I’ll cheapen

wares of the man, whilst Bots is doing with his wife.

_Lod._ To ’t: if we come into the shop to do you grace, we’ll call

you madam.

_Bots._ Pox a’ your old face, give it the (45) badge of all scurvy

faces, a mask.

[Mistress HORSELEECH _puts on a mask_.]

_Cand._ What is ’t you lack, gentlewoman? Cambric or lawns, or fine

hollands? Pray draw near; I can sell you a pennyworth.

_Bots._ Some cambric for my old lady. 50

_Cand._ Cambric? You shall, the purest thread in Milan.

_Lod., Car._ Save you, Signor Candido.

_Lod._ How does my noble master? How my fair mistress? 55

_Cand._ My worshipful good servant.—View it well, for ’t is both

fine and even. [_Shows cambric._]

_Car._ Cry you mercy, madam; though mask’d, I thought it should be

you by your man.—Pray, signor, show her the best, for she commonly

deals for good ware. 61

_Cand._ Then this shall fit her.—This is for your ladyship.

_Bots._ [_to Bride._] A word, I pray. There is a waiting gentlewoman

of my lady’s—her (65) name is Ruyna—says she’s your kinswoman, and

that you should be one of her aunts.

_Bride._ One of her aunts? Troth, sir, I know her not. 69

_Bots._ If it please you to bestow the poor labour of your legs at

any time, I will be your convoy thither.

_Bride._ I am a snail, sir, seldom leave my house. If ’t please her

to visit me, she shall be welcome. 75

_Bots._ Do you hear? The naked truth is, my lady hath a young knight,

her son, who loves you; you ’re made, if you lay hold upon ’t; this

jewel he sends you. [_Offers jewel._] 79

_Bride._ Sir, I return his love and jewel with scorn. Let go my hand,

or I shall call my husband. You are an arrant knave. _Exit._

_Lod._ What will she do?

_Bots._ Do? They shall all do if Bots sets upon them once. She was

as if she had profest (85) the trade, squeamish at first; at last I

showed her this jewel, said a knight sent it her.

_Lod._ Is’t gold, and right stones?

_Bots._ Copper, copper; I go a fishing with these baits. She nibbled,

but would not swallow the hook, because the conger-head, her 91

husband, was by; but she bids the gentleman name any afternoon, and

she’ll meet him at her garden house,[2532] which I know.

_Lod._ Is this no lie now? 95

_Bots._ Damme, if—

_Lod._ Oh, prithee, stay there.

_Bots._ The twenty crowns, sir.

_Lod._ Before he has his work done?—But on my knightly word he shall

pay ’t thee. 100

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and the Irish footman_ [BRYAN].

_Ast._ I thought thou hadst been gone into thine own country.

_Bry._ No, faat, la, I cannot go dis four or tree days. 104

_Ber._ Look thee, yonder ’s the shop, and that ’s the man himself.

_Fon._ Thou shalt but cheapen, and do as we told thee, to put a jest

upon him, to abuse his patience. 109

_Bry._ I’ faat, I doubt my pate shall be knocked: but, sa crees sa’

me, for your shakes, I will run to any linen-draper in hell. Come,

predee.

_All._ Save you, gallants.

_Lod., Car._ Oh, well met! 115

_Cand._ You ’ll give no more, you say? I cannot take it.

_Mis. H._ Truly, I ’ll give no more.

_Cand._ It must not fetch it.

What would you have, sweet gentlemen. 120

_Ast._ Nay, here ’s the customer.

_Exeunt_ BOTS _and_ Mistress HORSELEECH.

_Lod._ The garden-house, you say? We ’ll bolt[2533] out your roguery.

_Cand._ I will but lay these parcels by—my men

Are all at custom house unloading wares. 125

If cambric you would deal in, there ’s the best;

All Milan cannot sample it.

_Lod._ Do you hear it? one, two, three,— ’Sfoot, there came in four

gallants! Sure your wife is slipt up, and the fourth man, I hold my

life, is grafting your warden tree.[2534] 131

_Cand._ Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen are full of jest,

If she be up, she ’s gone some wares to show;

I have above as good wares as below.

_Lod._ Have you so? Nay, then— 135

_Cand._ Now, gentlemen, is ’t cambrics?

_Bry._ I predee now, let me have de best waures.

_Cand._ What ’s that he says, pray, gentlemen?

_Lod._ Marry, he says we are like to have the best wars. 141

_Cand._ The best wars? All are bad, yet wars do good,

And, like to surgeons, let sick kingdom’s blood.

_Bry._ Faat a devil pratest tow so? a pox on dee! I preddee, let me

see some hollen, to make linen shirts, for fear my body be lousy. 146

_Cand._ Indeed, I understand no word he speaks.

_Car._ Marry, he says that at the siege in Holland

There was much bawdry us’d among the soldiers,

Though they were lousy. 150

_Cand._ It may be so, that ’s likely.—True, indeed,

In every garden, sir, does grow that weed.

_Bry._ Pox on de gardens, and de weeds, and de fool’s cap dere,

and de clouts! Hear? dost make a hobby-horse of me. [_Tearing the

cambric._] 155

_All._ Oh, fie! he has torn the cambric.

_Cand._ ’T is no matter.

_Ast._ It frets me to the soul.

_Cand._ So does ’t not me.

My customers do oft for remnants call,

These are two remnants, now, no loss at all.

But let me tell you, were my servants here. 160

It would ha’ cost more.—Thank you, gentlemen,

I use you well, pray know my shop again. _Exit._

_All._ Ha, ha, ha! come, come, let ’s go, let ’s go. _Exeunt._

[ACT IV]

[SCENE I.][2535]

_Enter_ MATHEO _brave_,[2536] _and_ BELLAFRONT.

_Mat._ How am I suited, Front? Am I not gallant, ha?

_Bell._ Yes, sir, you are suited well.

_Mat._ Exceeding passing well, and to the time.[2537] 4

_Bell._ The tailor has play’d his part with you.

_Mat._ And I have play’d a gentleman’s part with my tailor, for I owe

him for the making of it.

_Bell._ And why did you so, sir?

_Mat._ To keep the fashion; it ’s your only (10) fashion now, of

your best rank of gallants, to make their tailors wait for their

money; neither were it wisdom indeed to pay them upon the first

edition[2538] of a new suit; for commonly the suit is owing for, when

the linings (15) are worn out, and there ’s no reason, then, that the

tailor should be paid before the mercer.

_Bell._ Is this the suit the knight bestowed upon you?

_Mat._ This is the suit, and I need not shame to wear it, for better

men than I would be (21) glad to have suits bestowed on them. It ’s

a generous fellow,—but—pox on him—we whose pericranions are the

very limbecks and stillatories of good wit and fly high, must drive

liquor out of stale gaping oysters. Shallow (26) knight, poor squire

Tinacheo: I ’ll make a wild Cataian[2539] of forty such: hang him, he

’s an ass, he ’s always sober.

_Bell._ This is your fault to wound your friends still. 31

_Mat._ No, faith, Front, Lodovico is a noble Slavonian: it ’s more

rare to see him in a woman’s company, than for a Spaniard to go into

England, and to challenge the English (35) fencers there.—[_Knocking

within._] One knocks,—see.—[_Exit_ BELLAFRONT.]—La, fa, sol, la,

fa, la, [_sings_] rustle in silks and satins! There ’s music in this,

and a taffeta petticoat, it makes both fly high. _Catso._ 40

_Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT; _after her_ ORLANDO, _like himself, with four

men after him_.

_Bell._ Matheo! ’t is my father.

_Mat._ Ha! father? It ’s no matter, he finds no tatter’d prodigals

here.

_Orl._ Is not the door good enough to hold your blue coats? Away,

knaves, wear not your (45) clothes threadbare at knees for me; beg

Heaven’s blessing, not mine. [_Exeunt_ Servants.]—Oh cry your

worship mercy, sir; was somewhat bold to talk to this gentlewoman,

your wife here. 50

_Mat._ A poor gentlewoman, sir.

_Orl._ Stand not, sir, bare to me; I ha’ read oft

That serpents who creep low, belch ranker poison

Than winged dragons do that fly aloft.

_Mat._ If it offend you, sir, ’t is for my pleasure. 55

_Orl._ Your pleasure be ’t, sir. Umh, is this your palace?

_Bell._ Yes, and our kingdom, for ’t is our content.

_Orl._ It ’s a very poor kingdom then; what, are all your subjects

gone a sheep-shearing? Not a maid? not a man? not so much as a cat?

You keep a good house belike, just like one (61) of your profession,

every room with bare walls, and a half-headed bed to vault upon, as

all your bawdy-houses are. Pray who are your upholsters? Oh, the

spiders, I see, they bestow hangings upon you. 66

_Mat._ Bawdy-house? Zounds, sir—

_Bell._ Oh sweet Matheo, peace. Upon my knees

I do beseech you, sir, not to arraign me

For sins, which Heaven, I hope, long since hath pardoned! 70

Those flames, like lightning flashes, are so spent,

The heat no more remains, than where ships went,

Or where birds cut the air, the print remains.

_Mat._ Pox on him, kneel to a dog.

_Bell._ She that ’s a whore, 75

Lives gallant, fares well, is not, like me, poor.

I ha’ now as small acquaintance with that sin,

As if I had never known ’t, that never been.

_Orl._ No acquaintance with it? What maintains thee then? How dost

live then? Has thy husband any lands, any rents coming in, any 81

stock going, any ploughs jogging, any ships sailing? Hast thou any

wares to turn,[2540] so much as to get a single penny by?

Yes thou hast ware to sell; 85

Knaves are thy chapmen, and thy shop is hell.

_Mat._ Do you hear, sir?

_Orl._ So, sir, I do hear, sir, more of you than you dream I do.

_Mat._ You fly a little too high, sir. 90

_Orl._ Why, sir, too high?

_Mat._ I ha’ suff’red your tongue, like a barr’d cater-tray,[2541] to

run all this while, and ha’ not stopt it.

_Orl._ Well, sir, you talk like a gamester. 95

_Mat._ If you come to bark at her because she ’s a poor rogue, look

you, here ’s a fine path, sir, and there, there, the door.

_Bell._ Matheo!

_Mat._ Your blue coats stay for you, sir. I love a good honest

roaring boy, and so— 101

_Orl._ That ’s the devil.

_Mat._ Sir, sir, I ’ll ha’ no Joves in my house to thunder avaunt.

She shall live and be maintained when you, like a keg of musty

sturgeon, (105) shall stink. Where? In your coffin. How? Be a musty

fellow, and lousy.

_Orl._ I know she shall be maintained, but how? She like a quean,

thou like a knave; she like a whore, thou like a thief. 110

_Mat._ Thief? Zounds! Thief?

_Bell._ Good, dearest Mat!—Father!

_Mat._ Pox on you both! I ’ll not be braved. New satin scorns to be

put down with bare bawdy velvet. Thief! 115

_Orl._ Ay, thief, th’ art a murderer, a cheater, a whoremonger, a

pot-hunter, a borrower, a beggar—

_Bell._ Dear father—

_Mat._ An old ass, a dog, a churl, a chuff, an usurer, a villain, a

moth, a mangy mule, (121) with an old velvet foot-cloth on his back,

sir.

_Bell._ Oh me!

_Orl._ Varlet, for this I ’ll hang thee.

_Mat._ Ha, ha, alas!

_Orl._ Thou keepest a man of mine here, (126) under my nose.

_Mat._ Under thy beard.

_Orl._ As arrant a smell-smock, for an old mutton-monger[2542] as

thyself. 130

_Mat._ No, as yourself.

_Orl._ As arrant a purse-taker as ever cried, Stand! yet a good

fellow I confess, and valiant; but he ’ll bring thee to th’ gallows.

You both have robb’d of late two poor country pedlars. 136

_Mat._ How ’s this? How ’s this? Dost thou fly high? Rob

pedlars?—Bear witness, Front—rob pedlars? My man and I a thief?

_Bell._ Oh, sir, no more.

_Orl._ Ay, knave, two pedlars. Hue and cry (141) is up, warrants are

out, and I shall see thee climb a ladder.

_Mat._ And come down again as well as a bricklayer or a tiler.

[_Aside._] How the vengeance knows he this?—If I be hanged, 146

I ’ll tell the people I married old Friscobaldo’s daughter; I ’ll

frisco you, and your old carcass.

_Orl._ Tell what you canst; if I stay here longer, I shall be hang’d

too, for being in thy company; therefore, as I found you, I leave 151

you—

_Mat._ Kneel, and get money of him.

_Orl._ A knave and a quean, a thief and a strumpet, a couple of

beggars, a brace of baggages. 156

_Mat._ Hang; upon him—Ay, ay, sir, fare you well; we are so—follow

close—we are beggars—in satin—to him.

_Bell._ Is this your comfort, when so many years 160

You ha’ left me frozen to death?

_Orl._ Freeze still, starve still!

_Bell._ Yes, so I shall: I must: I must and will.

If, as you say, I’m poor, relieve me then,

Let me not sell my body to base men.

You call me strumpet, Heaven knows I am none: 165

Your cruelty may drive me to be one:

Let not that sin be yours; let not the shame

Of common whore live longer than my name.

That cunning bawd, Necessity, night and day

Plots to undo me; drive that bag away, 170

Lest being at lowest ebb, as now I am,

I sink for ever.

_Orl._ Lowest ebb, what ebb?

_Bell._ So poor, that, though to tell it be my shame,

I am not worth a dish to hold my meat;

I am yet poorer, I want bread to eat. 175

_Orl._ It’s not seen by your cheeks.

_Mat._ [_Aside._] I think she has read an homily to tickle the old

rogue.

_Orl._ Want bread! There’s satin: bake that.

_Mat._ ’Sblood, make pasties of my clothes? 180

_Orl._ A fair new cloak, stew that; an excellent gilt rapier.

_Mat._ Will you eat that, sir?

_Orl._ I could feast ten good fellows with these hangers.[2543]

_Mat._ The pox, you shall! 185

_Orl._ I shall not, till thou begg’st, think thou art poor;

And when thou begg’st I’ll feed thee at my door,

As I feed dogs, with bones; till then beg, borrow,

Pawn, steal, and hang, turn bawd, when thou art whore,—

[_Aside._] My heart-strings sure would crack, were they strain’d

more. _Exit._ 190

_Mat._ This is your father, your damn’d—Confusion light upon all

the generation of you! He can come bragging hither with four white

herrings at ’s tail in blue coats, without roes in their bellies; but

I may starve ere he give me so much as a cob.[2544] 196

_Bell._ What tell you me of this? alas!

_Mat._ Go, trot after your dad, do you capitulate; I’ll pawn not for

you; I’ll not steal to be hanged for such an hypocritical, close,

common harlot: away, you dog!— 201

Brave i’ faith! Udsfoot, give me some meat.

_Bell._ Yes, sir. _Exit._

_Mat._ Goodman slave, my man too, is gallop’d to the devil a’ the t’

other side: Pacheco, I’ll checo you. Is this your dad’s day? England,

(206) they say, is the only hell for horses, and only paradise for

women: pray get you to that paradise, because you’re called an honest

whore; there they live none but honest whores with a pox. Marry, here

in our city, all your (211) sex are but foot-cloth nags:[2545] the

master no sooner lights but the man leaps into the saddle.

_Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT [_with meat and drink_].

_Bell._ Will you sit down, I pray, sir?

_Mat._ [_sitting down._] I could tear, by th’ Lord, his flesh, and

eat his midriff in salt, as I eat (216) this:—must I choke?—My

father Friscobaldo, I shall make a pitiful hog-louse of you, Orlando,

if you fall once into my fingers—Here’s the savourest meat! I ha’

got a stomach with chafing.[2546] What rogue should tell him of those

(221) two pedlars? A plague choke him, and gnaw him to the bare

bones!—Come fill.

_Bell._ Thou sweatest with very anger, good sweet. Vex not, ’las,

’tis no fault of mine. 225

_Mat._ Where didst buy this mutton? I never felt better ribs.

_Bell._ A neighbour sent it me.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man].

_Mat._ Hah, neighbour? Foh, my mouth stinks. You whore, do you beg

victuals for me? Is this satin doublet to be bombasted[2547] with

broken (231) meat? _Takes up the stool._

_Orl._ What will you do, sir?

_Mat._ Beat out the brains of a beggarly— 234

_Orl._ Beat out an ass’s head of your own.—Away, Mistress! [_Exit_

BELLAFRONT.] Zounds, do but touch one hair of her, and I’ll so quilt

your cap with old iron, that your coxcomb shall ache the worse these

seven years for ’t. Does she look like a roasted rabbit, that you

must have the head for the brains? 241

_Mat._ Ha, ha! go out of my doors, you rogue! Away, four marks;

trudge.

_Orl._ Four marks? No, sir, my twenty pound that you ha’ made fly

high, and I am gone. 245

_Mat._ Must I be fed with chippings? You’re best get

a clapdish,[2548] and say y’ are proctor to some

spittle-house.[2549]—Where hast thou been, Pacheco? Come hither my

little turkey-cock.

_Orl._ I cannot abide, sir, to see a woman wrong’d, not I. 251

_Mat._ Sirrah, here was my father-in-law to-day.

_Orl._ Pish, then y’ are full of crowns.

_Mat._ Hang him! he would ha’ thrust crowns upon me, to have fall’n

in again, but I scorn cast clothes, or any man’s gold. 256

_Orl._ [_Aside._]—But mine. How did he brook that, sir?

_Mat._ Oh, swore like a dozen of drunken tinkers; at last growing

foul in words, he and (260) four of his men drew upon me, sir.

_Orl._ In your house? Would I had been by!

_Mat._ I made no more ado, but fell to my old lock,[2550] and so

thrashed my blue-coats and old crab-tree-face my father-in-law, and

then walkt like a lion in my grate.[2551] 266

_Orl._ O noble master!

_Mat._ Sirrah, he could tell me of the robbing the two pedlars, and

that warrants are out for us both. 270

_Orl._ Good sir, I like not those crackers.[2552]

_Mat._ Crackhalter,[2553] wou’t set thy foot to mine?

_Orl._ How, sir? at drinking.

_Mat._ We ’ll pull that old crow my father: rob thy master. I know

the house, thou (275) the servants: the purchase[2554] is rich, the

plot to get it is easy; the dog will not part from a bone.

_Orl._ Pluck’t out of his throat, then. I ’ll snarl for one, if

this[2555] can bite.

_Mat._ Say no more, say no more, old coal; (280) meet me anon at the

sign of the Shipwrack.

_Orl._ Yes, sir.

_Mat._ And dost hear, man?—the Shipwrack. _Exit._

_Orl._ Th’ art at the shipwrack now, and like a swimmer,

Bold, but unexpert, with those waves dost play, 285

Whose dalliance, whorelike, is to cast thee away.

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO _and_ BELLAFRONT.

And here ’s another vessel, better fraught,

But as ill-mann’d; her sinking will be wrought,

If rescue come not: like a man of war

I ’ll therefore bravely out; somewhat I ’ll do,

And either save them both, or perish too. _Exit._ 291

_Hip._ It is my fate to be bewitched by those eyes.

_Bell._ Fate? your folly.

Why should my face thus mad you? ’Las, those colours 295

Are wound up long ago, which beauty spread:

The flowers that once grew here, are withered.

You turn’d my black soul white, made it look new,

And should I sin, it ne’er should be with you.

_Hip._ Your hand, I ’ll offer you fair play. When first 300

We met i’ th’ lists together, you remember

You were a common rebel; with one parley

I won you to come in.

_Bell._ You did.

_Hip._ I ’ll try

If now I can beat down this chastity

With the same ordnance. Will you yield this fort, 305

If the power of argument now, as then,

I get of you the conquest: as before

I turn’d you honest, now to turn you whore,

By force of strong persuasion?

_Bell._ If you can,

I yield.

_Hip._ The alarum ’s struck up; I ’m your man.

_Bell._ A woman gives defiance.

_Hip._ Sit. [_They seat themselves._]

_Bell._ Begin: 311

’T is a brave battle to encounter sin.

_Hip._ Yon men that are to fight in the same war

To which I ’m prest, and plead at the same bar,

To win a woman, if you ’d have me speed, 315

Send all your wishes!

_Bell._ No doubt you ’re heard; proceed.

_Hip._ To be a harlot, that you stand upon,

The very name ’s a charm to make you one.

Harlotta[2556] was a dame of so divine 319

And ravishing touch[2557] that she was concubine

To an English king; her sweet bewitching eye

Did the king’s heart-strings in such love-knots tie

That even the coyest was proud when she could hear

Men say, “Behold, another Harlot there!”

And after her all women that were fair 325

Were harlots call’d, as to this day some are:

Besides, her dalliance she so well does mix,

That she ’s in Latin call’d the _Meretrix_.

Thus for the name: for the profession, this:

Who lives in bondage, lives lac’d; the chief bliss 330

This world below can yield, is liberty:

And who, than whores, with looser wings dare fly?

As Juno’s proud bird spreads the fairest tail,

So does a strumpet hoist the loftiest sail,

She ’s no man’s slave; men are her slaves; her eye 335

Moves not on wheels screw’d up with jealousy.

She, hors’d or coach’d, does merry Journeys make,

Free as the sun in his gilt zodiac:

As bravely does she shine, as fast she ’s driven,

But stays not long in any house of heaven; 340

But shifts from sign to sign, her amorous prizes

More rich being when she ’s down, than when she rises.

In brief, gentlemen haunt them, soldiers fight for them,

Few men but know them, few or none abhor them.

Thus for sport’s sake speak I, as to a woman

Whom, as the worst ground, I would turn to common: 346

But you I would enclose for mine own bed.

_Bell._ So should a husband be dishonoured.

_Hip._ Dishonour’d? Not a whit: to fall to one

Besides your husband is to fall to none, 350

For one no number is.

_Bell._ Faith, should you take

One in your bed, would you that reckoning make?

’T is time you found retreat.

_Hip._ Say, have I won,

Is the day ours?

_Bell._ The battle ’s but half done,

None but yourself have yet sounded alarms, 355

Let us strike too, else you dishonour arms.

_Hip._ If you can win the day, the glory’s yours.

_Bell._ To prove a woman should not be a whore:

When she was made, she ’d one man, and no more; 359

Yet she was tied to laws then, for even than,[2558]

’T is said, she was not made for men, but man.

Anon, t’ increase earth’s brood, the law was varied,

Men should take many wives: and though they married

According to that act, yet ’t is not known

But that those wives were only tied to one. 365

New parliaments were since: for now one woman

Is shar’d between three hundred, nay she ’s common,

Common! as spotted leopards, whom for sport

Men hunt to get the flesh, but care not for ’t.

So spread they nets of gold, and tune their calls, 370

To enchant silly women to take falls;

Swearing they ’re angels, which that they may win

They ’ll hire the devil to come with false dice in.

Oh Sirens’ subtle tunes! yourselves you flatter,

And our weak sex betray: so men love water;

It serves to wash their hands, but being once foul, 375

The water down is pour’d, cast out of doors;

And even of such base use do men make whores.

A harlot, like a hen, more sweetness reaps,

To pick men one by one up, than in heaps: 380

Yet all feeds but confounding.[2559] Say you should taste me,

I serve but for the time, and when the day

Of war is done, am cashier’d out of pay:

If like lame soldiers I could beg, that ’s all,

And there ’s lust’s rendezvous, an hospital. 385

Who then would be a man’s slave, a man ’s woman?

She ’s half starv’d the first day that feeds in common.

_Hip._ You should not feed so, but with me alone.

_Bell._ If I drink poison by stealth, is ’t not all one?

Is ’t not rank poison still with you alone? 390

Nay, say you spi’d a courtesan, whose soft side

To touch you ’d sell your birth-right, for one kiss

Be rack’d; she ’s won, you’re sated: what follows this?

Oh, then you curse that bawd that toll’d[2560] you in,

The night; you curse your lust, you loathe the sin, 395

You loathe her very sight, and ere the day

Arise, you rise glad when y’ are stol’n away.

Even then when you are drunk with all her sweets,

There ’s no true pleasure in a strumpet’s sheets.

Women whom lust so prostitutes to sale, 400

Like dancers upon ropes, once seen, are stale.

_Hip._ If all the threads of harlot’s lives are spun,

So coarse as you would make them, tell me why

You so long lov’d the trade?

_Bell._ If all the threads

Of harlot’s lives be fine as you would make them, 405

Why do not you persuade your wife turn whore,

And all dames else to fall before that sin?

Like an ill husband, though I knew the same

To be my undoing, followed I that game.

Oh, when the work of lust had earn’d my bread, 410

To taste it how I trembled, lest each bit,

Ere it went down, should choke me chewing it!

My bed seem’d like a cabin hung in hell,

The bawd, bell’s porter, and the lickerish[2561] wine

The pander fetch’d, was like an easy fine, 415

For which, methought, I leas’d away my soul;

And oftentimes, even in my quaffing bowl,

Thus said I to myself, I am a whore,

And have drunk down thus much confusion more. 419

_Hip._ It is a common rule, and ’t is more true,

Two of one trade ne’er love: no more do you.

Why are you sharp ’gainst that you once profest?

_Bell._ Why dote you on that, which you did once detest?

I cannot, seeing she ’s woven of such bad stuff,

Set colours on a harlot base enough. 425

Nothing did make me, when I lov’d them best,

To loathe them more than this: when in the street

A fair young modest damsel I did meet,

She seem’d to all a dove, when I pass’d by,

And I to all a raven: every eye 430

That followed her went with a bashful glance,

At me each bold and jeering countenance

Darted forth scorn; to her as if she had been

Some tower unvanquished, would they vail,[2562]

’Gainst me swoln rumour hoisted every sail;

She, crown’d with reverend praises, pass’d by them, 436

I, though with face mask’d, could not scape the “Hem!”

For, as if Heaven had set strange marks on whores,

Because they should be pointing stocks to man,

Drest up in civilest shape, a courtesan— 440

Let her walk saint-like, noteless, and unknown,

Yet she ’s betray’d by some trick of her own.

Were harlots therefore wise, they ’d be sold dear:

For men account them good but for one year,

And then like almanacs whose dates are gone, 445

They are thrown by, and no more look’d upon.

Who ’ll therefore backward fall, who will launch forth

In seas so foul, for ventures no more worth?

Lust’s voyage hath, if not this course, this cross,

Buy ne’er so cheap, your ware comes home with loss. 450

What, shall I sound retreat? The battle ’s done:

Let the world judge which of us two have won.

_Hip._ I!

_Bell._ You? nay then as cowards do in fight,

What by blows cannot, shall be sav’d by flight. _Exit._

_Hip._ Fly to earth’s fixed centre: to the caves

Of everlasting horror. I ’ll pursue thee, 456

Though loaden with sins, even to hell’s brazen doors.

Thus wisest men turn fools, doting on whores. _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2563]

_Enter the_ DUKE, LODOVICO, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_

Serving-man]; _after them_ INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, _and_

FONTINELL.

_Orl._ I beseech your grace, though your eye be so piercing as

under a poor blue coat to cull out an honest father from an old

serving-man, yet, good my lord, discover not the plot to any, but

only this gentleman that is now to be an (5) actor in our ensuing

comedy.

_Duke._ Thou hast thy wish, Orlando, pass unknown,

Sforza shall only go along with thee,

To see that warrant serv’d upon thy son.

_Lod._ To attach him upon felony, for two (10) pedlars: is ’t not so?

_Orl._ Right, my noble knight: those pedlars were two knaves of mine;

he fleec’d the men before, and now he purposes to flay the master. He

will rob me; his teeth water to be nibbling (15) at my gold; but this

shall hang him by th’ gills, till I pull him on shore.

_Duke._ Away: ply you the business.

_Orl._ Thanks to your grace: but, my good lord, for my daughter— 20

_Duke._ You know what I have said.

_Orl._ And remember what I have sworn. She ’s more honest, on my

soul, than one of the Turks’ wenches, watcht by a hundred eunuchs.

_Lod._ So she had need, for the Turks make (25) them whores.

_Orl._ He ’s a Turk that makes any woman a whore; he ’s no true

Christian, I ’m sure. I commit your grace.

_Duke._ Infelice. 30

_Inf._ Here, sir.

_Lod._ Signor Friscobaldo.

_Orl._ Frisking again? Pacheco.

_Lod._ Uds so, Pacheco! We ’ll have some sport with this warrant: ’t

is to apprehend (35) all suspected persons in the house. Besides,

there ’s one Bots, a pander, and one Madam Horseleech, a bawd, that

have abus’d my friend; those two conies will we ferret into the

purse-net.[2564] 40

_Orl._ Let me alone for dabbing them o’ th’ neck. Come, come.

_Lod._ Do ye hear, gallants? Meet me anon at Matheo’s.

_All._ Enough. 45

_Exeunt_ LODOVICO _and_ ORLANDO.

_Duke._ Th’ old fellow sings that note thou didst before,

Only his tunes are, that she is no whore,

But that she sent his letters and his gifts,

Out of a noble triumph o’er his lust,

To show she trampled his assaults in dust. 50

_Inf._ ’T is a good honest servant, that old man.

_Duke._ I doubt no less.

_Inf._ And it may be my husband,

Because when once this woman was unmaskt,

He levell’d all her thoughts, and made them fit,

Now he ’d mar all again, to try his wit. 55

_Duke._ It may be so too, for to turn a harlot

Honest, it must be by strong antidotes;

’T is rare, as to see panthers change their spots.

And when she ’s once a star fix’d and shines bright,

Though ’t were impiety then to dim her light, 60

Because we see such tapers seldom burn,

Yet ’t is the pride and glory of some men,

To change her to a blazing star again,

And it may be, Hippolito does no more.—

It cannot be but you ’re acquainted all 65

With that same madness of our son-in-law,

That dotes so on a courtesan.

_All._ Yes, my lord.

_Car._ All the city thinks he ’s a whoremonger.

_Ast._ Yet I warrant he ’ll swear no man marks him. 70

_Ber._ ’T is like so, for when a man goes a wenching, is as if he had

a strong stinking breath, every one smells him out, yet he feels it

not, though it be ranker than the sweat of sixteen bear warders. 75

_Duke._ I doubt then you have all those stinking breaths;

You might be all smelt out.

_Car._ Troth, my lord. I think we are all as you ha’ been in your

youth when you went a-maying; we all love to hear the cuckoo sing 80

upon other men’s trees.

_Duke._ It ’s well; yet you confess. But, girl, thy bed

Shall not be parted with a courtesan.

’T is strange,

No frown of mine, no frown of the poor lady, 85

My abus’d child, his wife, no care of fame,

Of honour, heaven, or hell, no not that name

Of common strumpet, can affright, or woo him

To abandon her; the harlot does undo him; 89

She has bewitcht him, robb’d him of his shape,

Turn’d him into a beast; his reason ’s lost;

You see he looks wild, does he not?

_Car._ I ha’ noted

New moons in ’s face, my lord, all full of change.

_Duke._ He ’s no more like unto Hippolito

Than dead men are to living—never sleeps, 95

Or if he do, it ’s dreams: and in those dreams

His arms work, and then cries, “Sweet”—what ’s her name.

What ’s the drab’s name?

_Ast._ In troth, my lord, I know not,

I know no drabs, not I.

_Duke._ Oh, Bellafront!— 99

And, catching her fast, cries, “My Bellafront!”

_Car._ A drench that ’s able to kill a horse, cannot kill this

disease of smock-smelling, my lord, if it have once eaten deep.

_Duke._ I ’ll try all physic, and this medicine first: 104

I have directed warrants strong and peremptory

To purge our city Milan, and to cure

The outward parts, the suburbs, for the attaching

Of all those women, who, like gold, want weight:

Cities, like ships, should have no idle freight. 109

_Car._ No, my lord, and light wenches are no idle freight; but what

’s your grace’s reach[2565] in this?

_Duke._ This, Carolo. If she whom my son dotes on,

Be in that master-book enroll’d, he ’ll shame

Ever t’ approach one of such noted name. 115

_Car._ But say she be not?

_Duke._ Yet on harlots’ heads

New laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows

Shall give to those that haunt them, that Hippolito

If not for fear of law, for love to her,

If he love truly, shall her bed forbear. 120

_Car._ Attach all the light heels i’ the city and clap ’em up? Why,

my lord, you dive into a well unsearchable: all the whores within

the walls, and without the walls? I would not be (124) he should

meddle with them for ten such dukedoms; the army that you speak on

is able to fill all the prisons within this city, and to leave not a

drinking-room in any tavern besides.

_Duke._ Those only shall be caught that are of note;

Harlots in each street flow: 130

The fish being thus i’ th’ net, ourself will sit,

And with eye most severe dispose of it.

Come, girl. [_Exeunt_ DUKE _and_ INFELICE.]

_Car._ Arraign the poor whores!

_Ast._ I ’ll not miss that sessions. 135

_Font._ Nor I.

_Ber._ Nor I, though I hold up my hand there myself. _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][2566]

_Enter_ MATHEO, LODOVICO, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man].

_Mat._ Let who will come, my noble chevalier; I can but play the kind

host, and bid ’em welcome.

_Lod._ We ’ll trouble your house, Matheo, but as Dutchmen do in

taverns, drink, be merry, (5) and be gone.

_Orl._ Indeed, if you be right Dutchmen; if you fall to drinking, you

must be gone.

_Mat._ The worst is, my wife is not at home; but we ’ll fly high, my

generous knight, for all that. There ’s no music when a woman is in 11

the concert.

_Orl._ No; for she ’s like a pair of virginals,

Always with jacks at her tail.

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ See, the covey is sprung. 15

_All._ Save you, gallants.

_Mat._ Happily encounter’d, sweet bloods.

_Lod._ Gentlemen, you all know Signor Candido, the linen-draper, he

that ’s more patient than a brown baker upon the day when he heats

his oven, and has forty scolds about him. 21

_All._ Yes, we know him all; what of him?

_Lod._ Would it not be a good fit of mirth, to make a piece of

English cloth of him, and to stretch him on the tenters,[2567] till

the threads of his own natural humour crack, by making (26) him drink

healths, tobacco, dance, sing bawdy songs, or to run any bias[2568]

according as we think good to cast him? 29

_Car._ ’T were a morris-dance worth the seeing.

_Ast._ But the old fox is so crafty, we shall hardly hunt him out of

his den.

_Mat._ To that train I ha’ given fire already; and the hook to draw

him hither, is to see certain pieces of lawn, which I told him I have

(35) to sell, and indeed have such; fetch them down, Pacheco.

_Orl._ Yes, sir, I ’m your water-spaniel, and will fetch any

thing—[_Aside._] but I ’ll fetch one dish of meat anon shall turn

your stomach, and that ’s a constable. _Exit._ 41

_Enter_ BOTS _ushering_ Mistress HORSELEECH.

_All._ How now? how now?

_Car._ What galley-foist[2569] is this?

_Lod._ Peace, two dishes of stewed prunes,[2570] a bawd and a pander.

My worthy lieutenant Bots; why, now I see thou ’rt a man of thy word,

(46) welcome.—Welcome Mistress Horseleech.—Pray, gentlemen, salute

this reverend matron.

_Mis. H._ Thanks to all your worships. 49

_Lod._ I bade a drawer send in wine, too: did none come along with

thee, grannam, but the lieutenant?

_Mis. H._ None came along with me but Bots, if it like your worship.

_Bots._ Who the pox should come along with you but Bots. 56

_Enter two_ Vintners [_with wine_].

_All._ Oh brave! march fair.

_Lod._ Are you come? That ’s well.

_Mat._ Here ’s ordnance able to sack a city.

_Lod._ Come, repeat, read this inventory. 60

_1 Vint. Imprimis_, a pottle[2571] of Greek wine, a pottle of

Peter-sameene,[2572] a pottle of Charneco,[2573] and a pottle of

Leatica.[2574]

_Lod._ You ’re paid?

_2 Vint._ Yes, Sir. _Exeunt_ Vintners.

_Mat._ So shall some of us be anon, I fear. 66

_Bots._ Here ’s a hot day towards: but zounds, this is the life out

of which a soldier sucks sweetness! When this artillery goes off

roundly, some must drop to the ground: cannon, demi-cannon, saker,

and basilisk.[2575] 71

_Lod._ Give fire, lieutenant.

_Bots._ So, so: must I venture first upon the breach? To you all,

gallants; Bots sets upon you all. [_Drinks._] 75

_All._ It ’s hard, Bots, if we pepper not you, as well as you pepper

us.

_Enter_ CANDIDO.

_Lod._ My noble linen-draper!—Some wine!—Welcome, old lad!

_Mat._ You ’re welcome, signor. 80

_Cand._ These lawns, sir?

_Mat._ Presently; my man is gone for them. We ha’ rigged a fleet, you

see here, to sail about the world.

_Cand._ A dangerous voyage, sailing in such ships. 86

_Bots._ There ’s no casting over board yet.

_Lod._ Because you are an old lady, I will have you be acquainted

with this grave citizen. Pray bestow your lips upon him, and bid him

welcome. 91

_Mis. H._ Any citizen shall be most welcome to me:—I have used to

buy ware at your shop.

_Cand._ It may be so, good madam. 94

_Mis. H._ Your prentices know my dealings well; I trust your good

wife be in good case. If it please you, bear her a token from my

lips, by word of mouth. [_Kisses him._]

_Cand._ I pray, no more; forsooth, ’t is very well;

Indeed I love no sweetmeats.—[_Aside._] Sh ’as a breath 100

Stinks worse than fifty polecats.—Sir, a word,

Is she a lady?

_Lod._ A woman of a good house, and an ancient; she ’s a bawd.

_Cand._ A bawd? Sir, I ’ll steal hence, and see your lawns 105

Some other time.

_Mat._ Steal out of such company? Pacheco, my man, is but gone for

’em. Lieutenant Bots, drink to this worthy old fellow, and teach him

to fly high. 110

_All._ Swagger; and make him do ’t on his knees.

_Cand._ How, Bots? Now bless me, what do I with Bots?

No wine in sooth, no wine, good master Bots. 114

_Bots._ Gray-beard, goat’s pizzle, ’t is a health; have this in your

guts, or this, there [_touching his sword_]. I will sing a bawdy

song, sir, because your verjuice[2576] face is melancholy, to make

liquor go down glib. Will you fall on your marrowbones, and pledge

this health? ’T is to my mistress, a whore. 121

_Cand._ Here ’s ratsbane upon ratsbane, Master Bots.

I pray, sir, pardon me: you are a soldier,

Press me not to this service, I am old,

And shoot not in such pot-guns.[2577]

_Bots._ Cap, I ’ll teach you. 125

_Cand._ To drink healths, is to drink sickness.—Gentlemen,

Pray rescue me.

_Bots._ Zounds, who dare?

_All._ We shall ha’ stabbing then?

_Cand._ I ha’ reckonings to cast up, good Master Bots. 130

_Bots._ This will make you cast ’em up better.

_Lod._ Why does your hand shake so?

_Cand._ The palsy, signors, danceth in my blood.

_Bots._ Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or I ’ll make your blood dance—135

_Cand._ Hold, hold, good Master Bolts, I drink. [_Kneels._]

_All._ To whom?

_Cand._ To the old countess there. [_Drinks._]

_Mis. H._ To me, old boy? This is he that never drunk wine! Once

again to ’t. 140

_Cand._ With much ado the poison is got down,

Though I can scarce get up; never before

Drank I a whore’s health, nor will never more.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO _with lawns._

_Mat._ Hast been at gallows?

_Orl._ Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to-day. 146

_Mat._ Look, signor; here ’s the commodity.

_Cand._ Your price?

_Mat._ Thus.[2578]

_Cand._ No; too dear: thus. 150

_Mat._ No. O fie, you must fly higher. Yet take ’em home, trifles

shall not make us quarrel; we ’ll agree; you shall have them, and a

pennyworth. I ’ll fetch money at your shop. 154

_Cand._ Be it so, good signor, send me going.

_Mat._ Going? A deep bowl of wine for Signor Candido.

_Orl._ He would be going.

_Cand._ I ’ll rather stay than go so: stop your bowl.

_Enter_ Constable _and_ Billmen.

_Lod._ How now? 160

_Bots._ Is ’t Shrove-Tuesday, that these ghosts walk?[2579]

_Mat._ What ’s your business, sir?

_Const._ From the duke: you are the man we look for, signor. I have

warrant here from (165) the duke, to apprehend you upon felony for

robbing two pedlars. I charge you i’ th’ duke’s name, go quickly.

_Mat._ Is the wind turn’d? Well, this is that old wolf, my

father-in-law.—Seek out your mistress, sirrah. 171

_Orl._ Yes, Sir.—[_Aside._] As shafts by piecing are made strong,

So shall thy life be straight’ned by this wrong. _Exit._

_All._ In troth, we are sorry. 174

_Mat._ Brave men must be crost; pish, it ’s but Fortune’s dice

roving[2580] against me. Come, sir, pray use me like a gentleman; let

me not be carried through the streets like a pageant.

_Const._ If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them. 180

_All._ Be ’t so: come.

_Const._ What are you, sir?

_Bots._ I, sir? Sometimes a figure, sometimes a cipher, as the State

has occasion to cast up her accounts. I ’m a soldier. 185

_Const._ Your name is Bots, is ’t not?

_Bots._ Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company.

_Const._ I know you are, sir: what ’s she?

_Bots._ A gentlewoman, my mother. 190

_Const._ Take ’em both along.

_Bots._ Me, sir?

_Billmen._ [Ay,] sir!

_Const._ If he swagger, raise the street. 194

_Bots._ Gentlemen, gentlemen, whither will you drag us?

_Lod._ To the garden house. Bots, are we even with you?

_Const._ To Bridewell with ’em.

_Bots._ You will answer this. 200

_Const._ Better than a challenge. I have warrant for my work, sir.

_Lod._ We ’ll go before.

_Const._ Pray do.—

_Exeunt_ [MATHEO _with_ LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_

FONTINELL; BOTS _and_ Mistress HORSELEECH, _with_ Billmen.]

Who, Signor Candido? a citizen 205

Of your degree consorted thus, and revelling

In such a house?

_Cand._ Why, sir? what house, I pray?

_Const._ Lewd, and defam’d.

_Cand._ Is ’t so? thanks, sir: I ’m gone.

_Const._ What have you there?

_Cand._ Lawns which I bought, sir, of the gentleman 210

That keeps the house.

_Const._ And I have warrant here,

To search for such stol’n ware: these lawns are stol’n.

_Cand._ Indeed!

_Const._ So he ’s the thief, you the receiver: (213) I ’m sorry for

this chance, I must commit you.

_Cand._ Me, sir, for what?

_Const._ These goods are found upon you,

And you must answer ’t.

_Cand._ Must I so?

_Const._ Most certain.

_Cand._ I ’ll send for bail.

_Const._ I dare not: yet because

You are a citizen of worth, you shall not

Be made a pointing stock, but without guard,

Pass only with myself.

_Cand._ To Bridewell too? 220

_Const._ No remedy.

_Cand._ Yes, patience. Being not mad,

They had me once to Bedlam, now I ’m drawn

To Bridewell, loving no whores.

_Const._ You will buy lawn! _Exeunt._

[ACT V]

[SCENE I.][2581]

_Enter at one door_ HIPPOLITO; _at another_, LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO,

BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ Yonder ’s the Lord Hippolito; by any means leave him and me

together. Now will I turn him to a madman.

_All._ Save you my lord.

_Exeunt_ [_all except_ HIPPOLITO _and_ LODOVICO].

_Lod._ I ha’ strange news to tell you. 5

_Hip._ What are they?

_Lod._ Your mare ’s i’ th’ pound.

_Hip._ How ’s this?

_Lod._ Your nightingale is in a limebush.

_Hip._ Ha? 10

_Lod._ Your puritanical honest whore sits in a blue gown.[2582]

_Hip._ Blue gown!

_Lod._ She ’ll chalk out your way to her now:

she beats chalk.[2583] 15

_Hip._ Where? who dares?—

_Lod._ Do you know the brick-house of castigation, by the river side

that runs by Milan,—the school where they pronounce no letter well

but O? 20

_Hip._ I know it not.

_Lod._ Any man that has borne office of constable or any woman that

has fallen from a horse-load to a cart-load,[2584] or like an old hen

that has had none but rotten eggs in her nest, (25) can direct you to

her; there you shall see your punk amongst her back-friends.[2585]

There you may have her at your will,

For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill,

With a whip deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle; 30

Ah, little monkey!

_Hip._ What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I loved her?

_Lod._ Some worshipful rascal, I lay my life.

_Hip._ I ’ll beat the lodgings down about their ears 35

That are her keepers.

_Lod._ So you may bring an old house over her head.

_Hip._ I ’ll to her—

I ’ll to her, stood armed fiends to guard the doors. _Exit._

_Lod._ Oh me! what monsters are men made by whores! 40

If this false fire do kindle him, there ’s one faggot

More to the bonfire. Now to my Bridewell birds;

What song will they sing? _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2586]

_Enter_ DUKE, INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and three

or four_ Masters of Bridewell.

_Duke._ Your Bridewell? that the name? For beauty, strength,

Capacity and form of ancient building,

Besides the river’s neighbourhood, few houses

Wherein we keep our court can better it.

_1 Mast._ Hither from foreign courts have princes come, 5

And with our duke did acts of State commence.

Here that great cardinal had first audience,

The grave Campayne; that duke dead, his son

That famous prince, gave free possession

Of this, his palace, to the citizens, 10

To be the poor man’s ware-house; and endow’d it

With lands to th’ value of seven hundred mark,[2587]

With all the bedding and the furniture, once proper,

As the lands then were, to an hospital

Belonging to a Duke of Savoy. Thus 15

Fortune can toss the world; a prince’s court

Is thus a prison now.

_Duke._ ’Tis Fortune’s sport:

These changes common are: the wheel of fate

Turns kingdoms up, till they fall desolate.

But how are these seven hundred marks by th’ year 20

Employ’d in this your work-house?

_1 Mast._ War and peace

Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors

Of war burst open, from this house are sent

Men furnisht in all martial complement.

The moon hath through her bow scarce drawn to th’ head, 25

Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months,

Since sixteen hundred soldiers went aboard.

Here providence and charity play such parts,

The house is like a very school of arts;

For when our soldiers, like ships driven from sea, 30

With ribs all broken, and with tatter’d sides,

Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs

How often do we cover! that, like men,

They may be sent to their own homes again. 34

All here are but one swarm of bees, and strive

To bring with wearied thighs honey to the hive.

The sturdy beggar, and the lazy loon,[2588]

Gets here hard hands, or lac’d[2589] correction.

The vagabond grows staid and learns t’ obey,

The drone is beaten well, and sent away. 40

As other prisons are, some for the thief,

Some, by which undone credit gets relief

From bridled debtors; others for the poor,

So this is for the bawd, the rogue, the whore.

_Car._ An excellent team of horse!

_1 Mast._ Nor is it seen 45

That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen

Of any rugged bencher;[2590] nor does offence

Feel smart on spiteful or rash evidence;

But pregnant testimony forth must stand,

Ere justice leave them in the beadle’s hand. 50

As iron, on the anvil are they laid,

Not to take blows alone, but to be made

And fashion’d to some charitable use.

_Duke._ Thus wholsom’st laws spring from the worst abuse.

_Enter_ ORLANDO, [_disguised as a_ Serving-man,] _before_ BELLAFRONT.

_Bell._ Let mercy touch your heart-strings, gracious lord, 55

That it may sound like music in the ear

Of a man desperate, being i’ th’ hands of law.

_Duke._ His name?

_Bell._ Matheo.

_Duke._ For a robbery?

Where is he?

_Bell._ In this house.

_Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT _and one of the_ Masters of Bridewell.

_Duke._ Fetch you him hither—

Is this the party? 60

_Orl._ This is the hen, my lord, that the cock with the lordly comb,

your son-in-law, would crow over, and tread.

_Duke._ Are your two servants ready?

_Orl._ My two pedlars are pack’d together, my good lord. 65

_Duke._ ’T is well; this day in judgment shall be spent:

Vice, like a wound lanc’d, mends by punishment.

_Inf._ Let me be gone, my lord, or stand unseen;

’T is rare when a judge strikes and that none die,

And ’t is unfit then women should be by. 70

_1 Mast._ We’ll place you, lady, in some private room.

_Inf._ Pray do so.

_Exit_ [_with a_ Master, _who returns alone_].

_Orl._ Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes

Should view men carv’d up for anatomies,[2591]

Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen;

Many women sure will sin behind a screen. 76

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Your son, the Lord Hippolito, is ent’red.

_Duke._ Tell him we wish his presence. A word, Sforza;

On what wings flew he hither? 79

_Lod._ These:—I told him his lark whom he loved, was a

Bridewell-bird; he’s mad that this cage should hold her, and is

come to let her out.

_Duke._ ’T is excellent: away, go call him hither. _Exit_ LODOVICO. 85

_Re-enter one of the_ Governors _of the House_; BELLAFRONT _after

him with_ MATHEO; _after him the_ Constable; _enter at another door_

LODOVICO _and_ HIPPOLITO. ORLANDO _steps forth and brings in two_ [_of

his_ Servants _disguised as_] Pedlars.

_Duke._ You are to us a stranger, worthy lord;

’T is strange to see you here.

_Hip._ It is most fit

That where the sun goes, atomies[2592] follow it.

_Duke._ Atomies neither shape nor honour bear:

Be you yourself, a sunbeam to shine clear.— 90

Is this the gentleman? Stand forth and hear

Your accusation.

_Mat._ I’ll hear none; I fly high in that: rather than kites shall

seize upon me, and (94) pick out mine eyes to my face, I’ll strike

my talons through mine own heart first, and spit my blood in theirs.

I am here for shriving those two fools of their sinful pack. When

those jackdaws have caw’d over me, then must I cry (99) guilty, or

not guilty. The law has work enough already and therefore I’ll put

no work of mine into his hands; the hangman shall ha ’t first. I did

pluck those ganders, did rob them.

_Duke._ ’T is well done to confess. 104

_Mat._ Confess and be hanged, and then I fly high, is ’t not so?

That for that; a gallows is the worst rub[2593] that a good bowler

can meet with; I stumbled against such a post, else this night I

had play’d the part of a true son in (109) these days, undone my

father-in-law; with him would I ha’ run at leap-frog, and come

over his gold, though I had broke his neck for ’t: but the poor

salmon-trout is now in the net.

_Hip._ And now the law must teach you to fly high. 114

_Mat._ Right, my lord, and then may you fly low; no more words:—a

mouse, mum, you are stopp’d.

_Bell._ Be good to my poor husband, dear my lords.

_Mat._ Ass! 119

Why shouldst thou pray them to be good to me,

When no man here is good to one another?

_Duke._ Did any hand work in this theft but yours?

_Mat._ O yes, my lord, yes:—the hangman has never one son at a

birth, his children always come by couples. Though I cannot give 125

the old dog, my father, a bone to gnaw, the daughter shall be sure of

a choke-pear.—Yes, my lord, there was one more that fiddled my fine

pedlars, and that was my wife.

_Bell._ Alas, I? 130

_Orl._ [_Aside._] O everlasting, supernatural, superlative villain!

_All._ Your wife, Matheo?

_Hip._ Sure it cannot be. 134

_Mat._ Oh, sir, you love no quarters of mutton that hang up, you

love none but whole mutton. She set the robbery, I perform’d it; she

spurr’d me on, I gallop’d away.

_Orl._ My lords,—

_Bell._ My lords,—fellow, give me speech,—if my poor life 140

May ransom thine, I yield it to the law.

Thou hurt’st thy soul, yet wip’st off no offence,

By casting blots upon my innocence.

Let not these spare me, but tell truth; no, see

Who slips his neck out of the misery, 145

Though not out of the mischief. let thy servant

That shar’d in this base act accuse me here.

Why should my husband perish, he go clear?

_Orl._ [_Aside._] A good child, hang thine own father!

_Duke._ Old fellow, was thy hand in too? 150

_Orl._ My hand was in the pie, my lord, I confess it. My mistress,

I see, will bring me to the gallows, and so leave me; but I’ll not

leave her so: I had rather hang in a woman’s company, (154) than in

a man’s; because if we should go to hell together, I should scarce

be letten in, for all the devils are afraid to have any women come

amongst them. As I am true thief, she neither consented to this

felony, nor knew of it. 160

_Duke._ What fury prompts thee on to kill thy wife?

_Mat._ It is my humour, sir, ’t is a foolish bag-pipe that I make

myself merry with. Why should I eat hemp-seed at the hangman’s

thirteen-pence halfpenny[2594] ordinary, and have this whore laugh at

me, as I swing, as I totter? 166

_Duke._ Is she a whore?

_Mat._ A six-penny mutton pasty, for any to cut up.

_Orl._ Ah, toad, toad, toad. 169

_Mat._ A barber’s cittern[2595] for every serving-man to play upon;

that lord, your son, knows it.

_Hip._ I, sir? Am I her bawd then?

_Mat._ No, sir, but she’s your whore then.

_Orl._ [_Aside._] Yea, spider; dost catch at great flies?

_Hip._ My whore? 175

_Mat._ I cannot talk, sir, and tell of your rems and your rees and

your whirligigs and devices: but, my lord, I found ’em like sparrows

in one nest, billing together, and bulling of me. I took ’em in bed,

was ready to kill him, was up (180) to stab her—

_Hip._ Close thy rank jaws:—pardon me, I am vex’d.—

Thou art a villain, a malicious devil;

Deep as the place where thou art lost, thou liest.

Since I am thus far got into this storm, 185

I’ll through, and thou shalt see I’ll through untoucht.

When thou shalt perish in it.

_Re-enter_ INFELICE.

_Inf._ ’T is my cue

To enter now.—Room! let my prize[2596] be play’d;

I ha’ lurked in clouds, yet heard what all have said;

What jury more can prove sh’as wrong’d my bed, 190

Than her own husband? She must be punished.

I challenge law, my lord; letters and gold

And jewels from my lord that woman took.

_Hip._ Against that black-mouth’d devil, against letters and gold,

And against a jealous wife, I do uphold 195

Thus far her reputation; I could sooner

Shake th’ Appenine and crumble rocks to dust

Than, though Jove’s shower rain’d down, tempt

her to lust.

_Bell._ What shall I say?

_Orl._ (_discovers himself._) Say thou art not a (200) whore, and

that’s more than fifteen women amongst five hundred dare swear

without lying, this shalt thou say—no, let me say’t for thee;—thy

husband’s a knave, this lord’s an honest man; thou art no punk, this

lady’s a right (205) lady. Pacheco is a thief as his master is, but

old Orlando is as true a man as thy father is. I ha’ seen you fly

high, sir, and I ha’ seen you fly low, sir, and to keep you from the

gallows, sir, a blue coat have I worn, and a thief did I turn. 210

Mine own men are the pedlars, my twenty pounds did fly high, sir,

your wife’s gown did fly low, sir: whither fly you now, sir? You ha’

scap’d the gallows, to the devil you fly next, sir. Am I right, my

liege? 215

_Duke._ Your father has the true physician play’d.

_Mat._ And I am now his patient.

_Hip._ And be so still;

’Tis a good sign when our cheeks blush at ill.

_Const._ The linen-draper, Signor Candido,

He whom the city terms the patient man, 220

Is likewise here for buying of those lawns

The pedlars lost.

_Inf._ Alas, good Candido!

_Duke._ Fetch him; and when these payments up are cast,

_Exit_ Constable.

Weigh out your light gold, but let’s have them last.

_Enter_ CANDIDO _and_ Constable, [_who presently goes out._]

_Duke._ In Bridewell, Candido?

_Cand._ Yes, my good lord. 225

_Duke._ What make you here?

_Cand._ My lord, what make you here?

_Duke._ I’m here to save right, and to drive wrong hence.

_Cand._ And I to bear wrong here with patience.

_Duke._ You ha’ bought stol’n goods.

_Cand._ So they do say, my lord.

Yet bought I them upon a gentleman’s word.

And I imagine now, as I thought then, 231

That there be thieves, but no thieves, gentlemen.

_Hip._ Your credit’s crack’d, being here.

_Cand._ No more than gold,

Being crack’d, which does his estimation hold.

I was in Bedlam once, but was I mad? 235

They made me pledge whores’ healths, but am I bad

Because I’m with bad people?

_Duke._ Well, stand by;

If you take wrong, we’ll cure the injury.

_Re-enter_ Constable, _after him_ BOTS, _after them two_ Beadles, _one

with hemp, the other with a beetle_.[2597]

_Duke._ Stay, stay, what ’s he? A prisoner?

_Const._ Yes, my lord. 240

_Hip._ He seems a soldier?

_Bots._ I am what I seem, sir, one of fortune’s bastards, a soldier

and a gentleman, and am brought in here with master constable’s band

of billmen, because they face me down that I (245) live, like those

that keep bowling alleys, by the sins of the people, in being a

squire of the body.

_Hip._ Oh, an apple-squire.[2598]

_Bots._ Yes, sir, that degree of scurvy squires; and that I am

maintained by the best part (250) that is commonly in a woman, by the

worst players of those parts; but I am known to all this company.

_Lod._ My lord, ’t is true, we all know him; ’t is lieutenant Bots. 255

_Duke._ Bots, and where ha’ you served, Bots?

_Bots._ In most of your hottest services in the Low-countries: at the

Groyne I was wounded in this thigh, and halted upon ’t, but ’t is now

sound. In Cleveland I mist but little, having the bridge of my nose

broken down with (261) two great, stones, as I was scaling a fort. I

ha’ been tried, sir, too, in Gelderland, and scap’d hardly there from

being blown up at a breach: I was fired, and lay i’ th’ surgeon’s

hands (265) for ’t, till the fall of the leaf following.

_Hip._ All this may be, and yet you no soldier.

_Bots._ No soldier, sir? I hope these are services that your proudest

commanders do venture upon, and never come off sometimes. 270

_Duke._ Well, sir, because you say you are a soldier,

I’ll use you like a gentleman.—Make room there,

Plant him amongst you; we shall have anon

Strange hawks fly here before us. If none light

On you, you shall with freedom take your flight;

But if you prove a bird of baser wing, 276

We’ll use you like such birds, here you shall sing.

_Bots._ I wish to be tried at no other weapon.

_Duke._ Why, is he furnisht with those implements?

_1 Master._ The pander is more dangerous to a State 280

Than is the common thief; and though our laws

Lie heavier on the thief, yet that the pander

May know the hangman’s ruff should fit him too,

Therefore he’s set to beat hemp.

_Duke._ This does savour

Of justice; basest slaves to basest labour. 285

Now pray, set open hell, and let us see

The she-devils that are here.

_Inf._ Methinks this place

Should make e’en Lais honest.

_1 Mast._ Some it turns good,

But as some men, whose hands are once in blood,

Do in a pride spill more, so, some going hence

Are, by being here, lost in more impudence. 291

Let it not to them, when they come, appear

That any one does as their judge sit here;

But that as gentlemen you come to see.

And then perhaps their tongues will walk more free. 295

_Duke._ Let them be marshall’d in.— [_Exeunt_

Masters, Constable, _and_ Beadles.]—Be cover’d all,

Fellows, now to make the scene more comical.

_Car._ Will not you be smelt out, Bots?

_Bots._ No, your bravest whores have the worst noses.

_Re-enter two of the_ Masters; _a_ Constable _after them, then_

DOROTHEA TARGET, _brave_;[2599] _after her two_ Beadles, _th’ one with

a wheel, the other with a blue gown_.

_Lod._ Are not you a bride, forsooth? 300

_Dor._ Say ye?

_Car._ He would know if these be not your bridemen.

_Dor._ Vuh! yes, sir: and look ye, do you see? the bride-laces that I

give at my wedding, will serve to tie rosemary to both your coffins

when you come from hanging—Scab! 306

_Orl._ Fie, punk, fie, fie, fie!

_Dor._ Out, you stale, stinking head of garlic, foh, at my heels.

_Orl._ My head’s cloven. 310

_Hip._ O, let the gentlewoman alone, she’s going to shrift.

_Ast._ Nay, to do penance.

_Car._ Ay, ay, go, punk, go to the cross and be whipt. 315

_Dor._ Marry mew, marry muff,[2600] marry, hang you, goodman dog.

Whipt? do ye take me for a base, spital-whore? In troth, gentlemen,

you wear the clothes of gentlemen, but you carry not the minds of

gentlemen, to abuse (320) a gentlewoman of my fashion.

_Lod._ Fashion? Pox a’ your fashions! Art not a whore?

_Dor._ Goodman slave.

_Duke._ O fie, abuse her not, let us two talk,

What mought I call your name, pray? 326

_Dor._ I’m not ashamed of my name, sir; my name is Mistress Doll

Target, a Western gentlewoman. 329

_Lod._ Her target against any pike in Milan.

_Duke._ Why is this wheel borne after her?

_1 Mast._ She must spin.

_Dor._ A coarse thread it shall be, as all threads are.

_Ast._ If you spin, then you’ll earn money here too? 334

_Dor._ I had rather get half-a-crown abroad, than ten crowns here.

_Orl._ Abroad? I think so.

_Inf._ Dost thou not weep now thou art here?

_Dor._ Say ye? weep? Yes, forsooth, as you did when you lost your

maidenhead. Do you (340) not hear how I weep? _Sings._

_Lod._ Farewell, Doll.

_Dor._ Farewell, dog. _Exit._

_Duke._ Past shame: past penitence! Why is that blue gown? 345

_1 Mast._ Being stript out of her wanton loose attire,

That garment she puts on, base to the eye,

Only to clothe her in humility.

_Duke._ Are all the rest like this?

_1 Mast._ No, my good lord,

You see, this drab swells with a wanton rein, 350

The next that enters has a different strain.

_Duke._ Variety is good, let’s see the rest. _Exit_ 1 Master.

_Bots._ Your grace sees I’m sound yet, and no bullets hit me.

_Duke._ Come off so, and ’t is well.

_All._ Here’s the second mess. 356

_Re-enter the two_ Masters, _after them_ Constable, _after him_

PENELOPE WHOREHOUND, _like a_ Citizen’s Wife; _after her two_ Beadles,

_one with a blue gown, another with chalk and a mallet_.

_Pen._ I ha’ worn many a costly gown, but I was never thus

guarded[2601] with blue coats, and beadles, and constables, and—

_Car._ Alas, fair mistress, spoil not thus your eyes. 360

_Pen._ Oh, sweet sir, I feel the spoiling of other places about me

that are dearer than my eyes; if you be gentlemen, if you be men, or

ever came of a woman, pity my case! Stand to me, stick to me, good

sir, you are an old man. 365

_Orl._ Hang not on me, I prithee; old trees bear no such fruit.

_Pen._ Will you bail me, gentlemen?

_Lod._ Bail thee? Art in for debt? 369

_Pen._ No; God is my judge, sir, I am in for no debts; I paid my

tailor for this gown, the last five shillings a-week that was behind,

yesterday.

_Duke._ What is your name. I pray?

_Pen._ Penelope Whorehound, I come of the Whorehounds. How does

lieutenant Bots? 375

_All._ Aha, Bots?

_Bots._ A very honest woman, as I’m a soldier—a pox Bots ye.

_Pen._ I was never in this pickle before; and yet if I go amongst

citizens’ wives, they (380) jeer at me; if I go among the

loose-bodied gowns,[2602] they cry a pox on me, because I go civilly

attired, and swear their trade was a good trade, till such as I am

took it out of their (384) hands. Good lieutenant Bots, speak to

these captains to bail me.

_1 Mast._ Begging for bail still? You are a trim gossip. Go give her

the blue gown, set her to her chare. Work,[2603] huswife, for your

bread, away. 390

_Pen._ Out, you dog!—a pox on you all!—women are born to curse

thee—but I shall live to see twenty such flat-caps shaking dice for

a penny-worth of pippins. Out, you blue-eyed rogue! _Exit._ 395

_All._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Duke._ Even now she wept, and pray’d; now does she curse?

_1 Mast._ Seeing me; if still she had stay’d, this had been worse. 400

_Hip._ Was she ever here before?

_1 Mast._ Five times at least,

And thus, if men come to her, have her eyes

Wrung, and wept out her bail.

_All._ Bots, you know her?

_Bots._ Is there any gentleman here, that knows not a whore, and is

he a hair the worse for that? 406

_Duke._ Is she a city-dame? She’s so attired.

_1 Mast._ No, my good lord, that’s only but the veil

To her loose body. I have seen her here

In gayer masking suits; as several sauces 410

Give one dish several tastes, so change of habits

In whores is a bewitching art: to-day

She’s all in colours to besot gallants, then

In modest black, to catch the citizen,

And this from their examination’s drawn. 415

Now shall you see a monster both in shape

And nature quite from these, that sheds no tear

Nor yet is nice, ’tis a plain ramping bear;

Many such whales are cast upon this shore. 419

_All._ Let’s see her.

_1 Mast._ Then behold a swaggering whore.

_Exeunt_ [Masters _and_ Constable].

_Orl._ Keep your ground, Bots.

_Bots._ I do but traverse to spy advantage how to arm myself.

_Re-enter the two_ Masters _first_; _after them the_ Constable; _after

them a_ Beadle _beating a basin_,[2604] _then_ CATHERINA BOUNTINALL,

_with_ Mistress HORSELEECH; _after them another_ Beadle _with a blue

head guarded[2605] with yellow_.

_Cat._ Sirrah, when I cry, hold your hands, hold, you rogue-catcher,

hold.—Bawd, are (425) the French chilblains in your heels, that you

can come no faster? Are not you, bawd, a whore’s ancient,[2606] and

must not I follow my colours?

_Mis. H._ O Mistress Catherine, you do me wrong to accuse me here as

you do, before (430) the right worshipful. I am known for a motherly,

honest woman, and no bawd.

_Cat._ Marry foh, honest? Burnt[2607] at fourteen, seven times whipt,

six times carted, nine times duck’d, search’d by some hundred and

(435) fifty constables, and yet you are honest? Honest Mistress

Horseleech, is this world a world to keep bawds and whores honest?

How many times hast thou given gentlemen a quart of wine in a gallon

pot? How many twelve-penny fees, nay two shillings fees, nay, when

any (441) ambassadors ha’ been here, how many half-crown fees hast

thou taken? How many carriers hast thou bribed for country wenches?

How often have I rinst your lungs in _aqua vitae_, and yet you are

honest? 446

_Duke._ And what were you the whilst?

_Cat._ Marry hang you, master slave, who made you an examiner?

_Lod._ Well said! belike this devil spares no man. 451

_Cat._ What art thou, prithee? [_To_ BOTS.]

_Bots._ Nay, what art thou, prithee?

_Cat._ A whore, art thou a thief? 454

_Bots._ A thief, no, I defy[2608] the calling; I am a soldier, have

borne arms in the field, been in many a hot skirmish, yet come off

sound.

_Cat._ Sound, with a pox to ye, ye abominable rogue! You a soldier?

You in skirmishes? (459) Where? Amongst pottle pots in a bawdy-house?

Look, look here, you Madam Worm-eaten, do you not know him?

_Mis. H._ Lieutenant Bots, where have ye been this many a day?

_Bots._ Old bawd, do not discredit me, seem not to know me. 465

_Mis. H._ Not to know ye, Master Bots? As long as I have breath, I

cannot forget thy sweet face.

_Duke._ Why, do you know him? He says he is a soldier. 471

_Cat._ He a soldier? A pander, a dog that will lick up sixpence. Do

ye hear, you master swines’-snout, how long is’t since you held the

door for me, and cried, “To ’t again, no (475) body comes!” Ye rogue,

you?

_All._ Ha, ha, ha! y’ are smelt out again, Bots.

_Bots._ Pox ruin her nose for ’t! An I be not revenged for this—um,

ye bitch!

_Lod._ D’ ye hear ye, madam? Why does your ladyship swagger thus?

You’re very brave, (481) methinks.

_Cat._ Not at your cost, master cod’s-head;

Is any man here blear-eyed to see me brave?

_Ast._ Yes. I am. 485

Because good clothes upon a whore’s back

Is like fair painting upon a rotten wall.

_Cat._ Marry muff, master whoremaster, you come upon me with

sentences.

_Ber._ By this light, has small sense for’t. 490

_Lod._ O fie, fie, do not vex her! And yet methinks a creature of

more scurvy conditions should not know what a good petticoat were.

_Cat._ Marry, come out; you’re so busy (494) about my petticoat,

you’ll creep up to my placket, an ye could but attain the honour: but

an the outsides offend your rogue-ships, look o’ the lining, ’tis

silk.

_Duke._ Is’t silk ’tis lined with, then? 499

_Cat._ Silk? Ay, silk, master slave, you would be glad to wipe your

nose with the skirt on’t. This ’tis to come among a company of

cod’s-heads[2609] that know not how to use a gentlewoman.

_Duke._ Tell her the duke is here. 505

_1 Mast._ Be modest, Kate, the duke is here.

_Cat._ If the devil were here, I care not. Set forward, ye rogues,

and give attendance according to your places! Let bawds and whores 509

be sad, for I’ll sing an the devil were a-dying.

_Exit_ [_with_ Mistress HORSELEECH _and_ Beadles].

_Duke._ Why before her does the basin ring?

_1 Mast._ It is an emblem of their revelling.

The whips we use let forth their wanton blood,

Making them calm; and, more to calm their pride,

Instead of coaches they in carts do ride. 515

Will your grace see more of this bad ware?

_Duke._ No, shut up shop, we’ll now break up the fair.

Yet ere we part—you, sir, that take upon ye

The name of soldier, that true name of worth,

Which, action, not vain boasting, best sets forth,

To let you know how far a soldier’s name 521

Stands from your title, and to let you see

Soldiers must not be wrong’d where princes be;

This be your sentence:—

_All._ Defend yourself, Bots. 525

_Duke._ First, all the private sufferance that the house

Inflicts upon offenders, you, as the basest,

Shall undergo it double, after which

You shall be whipt, sir, round about the city,

Then banisht from the land. 530

_Bots._ Beseech, your grace!

_Duke._ Away with him, see it done. Panders and whores

Are city-plagues, which, being kept alive,

Nothing that looks like goodness ere can thrive.

Now good Orlando, what say you to your bad son-in-law? 535

_Orl._ Marry this, my lord, he is my son-in-law, and in law will I be

his father: for if law can pepper him, he shall be so parboil’d, that

he shall stink no more i’ th’ nose of the commonwealth. 540

_Bell._ Be yet more kind and merciful, good father.

_Orl._ Dost thou beg for him, thou precious man’s meat, thou? Has he

not beaten thee, kickt thee, trod on thee, and dost thou fawn 544

on him like his spaniel? Has he not pawn’d thee to thy petticoat,

sold thee to thy smock, made ye leap at a crust, yet wouldst, have me

save him?

_Bell._ Oh yes, good sir, women shall learn of me,

To love their husbands in greatest misery; 550

Then show him pity, or you wrack myself.

[_Orl._] Have ye eaten pigeons, that you’re so kindhearted to your

mate? Nay, you’re a couple of wild bears, I’ll have ye both baited

at one stake: but as for this knave, the gallows (555) is thy due,

and the gallows thou shalt have. I’ll have justice of the duke, the

law shall have thy life.—What, dost thou hold him? Let go his hand.

If thou dost not forsake him, a (559) father’s everlasting blessing

fall upon both your heads! Away, go, kiss out of my sight, play thou

the whore no more, nor thou the thief again; my house shall be thine,

my meat shall be thine, and so shall my wine, but my money shall be

mine, and yet when I die, so thou dost not fly high, take all; 566

Yet, good Matheo, mend.

Thus for joy weeps Orlando, and doth end.

_Duke._ Then hear, Matheo: all your woes are stayed

By your good father-in-law: all your ills 570

Are clear purg’d from you by his working pills.—

Come, Signor Candido, these green young wits,

We see by circumstance, this plot have laid

Still to provoke thy patience, which they find

A wall of brass; no armour’s like the mind. 575

Thou hast taught the city patience, now our court

Shall be thy sphere, where from thy good report,

Rumours this truth unto the world shall sing,

A patient man’s a pattern for a king. _Exeunt._

THE MALCONTENT

BY JOHN MARSTON

BENIAMINO JONSONIO, POETAE ELEGANTISSIMO, GRAVISSIMO, AMICO SVO,

CANDIDO ET CORDATO, IOHANNES MARSTON, MVSARVM ALVMNVS, ASPERAM HANC

SVAM THALIAM D.D.

[Members of the Company of His Majesty’s Servants appearing in the

INDUCTION

W. SLY. D. BURBADGE. J. LOWIN.

SINKLO. H. CONDELL. A Tire-man.]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

GIOVANNI ALTOFRONTO, disguised as MALEVOLE, sometime Duke of Genoa.

PIETRO JACOMO, Duke of Genoa.

MENDOZA, a minion to the Duchess of Pietro Jacomo.

CELSO, a friend to Altofronto.

BILIOSO, an old choleric marshal.

PREPASSO, a gentleman-usher.

FERNEZE, a young courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess.

FERRARDO, a minion to Duke Pietro Jacomo.

EQUATO, }

GUERRINO, } two courtiers.

PASSARELLO, fool to Biliosa.

AURELIA, Duchess to Duke Pietro Jacomo.

MARIA, Duchess to Duke Altofronto.

EMILIA, }

BIANCA, } two ladies attending on Aurelia.

MAQUERELLE, an old panderess.

[THE SCENE.—_Genoa._]

TO THE READER

I am an ill orator; and, in truth, use to indite more honestly than

eloquently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I

speak.

In plainness, therefore, understand that in some things I have

willingly erred, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names

different from that city’s families: for which some may wittily accuse

me: but my defence shall be as honest as many reproofs unto me have

been most malicious; since, I heartily protest, it was my care to write

so far from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I

laid my scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or

living. Yet, in despite of my endeavours, I understand some have been

most unadvisedly over-cunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtlety

as deep as hell have maliciously spread ill rumours, which, springing

from themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I

desire to satisfy every firm spirit, who, in all his actions, proposeth

to himself no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are

always simple: to such I protest that, with my free understanding,

I have not glanced at disgrace of any, but of those whose unquiet

studies labour innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend, comely

superiority, and establisht unity: for the rest of my supposed

tartness, I fear not but unto every worthy mind it will be approved so

general and honest as may modestly pass with the freedom of a satire. I

would fain leave the paper; only one thing afflicts me, to think that

scenes, invented merely to be spoken, should be enforcively published

to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive is to do myself

the wrong. But, since others otherwise would do me more, the least

inconvenience is to be accepted. I have myself, therefore, set forth

this comedy; but so, that my enforced absence must much rely upon the

printer’s discretion: but I shall entreat slight errors in orthography

may be as slightly over-passed, and that the unhandsome shape which

this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned for the pleasure it

once afforded you when it was presented with the soul of lively action.

_Sine aliqua dementia nullus Phoebus._[2610]

[THE INDUCTION[2611]

TO

THE MALCONTENT, AND THE ADDITIONS[2612] ACTED BY THE KING’S MAJESTY’S

SERVANTS.

WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER

_Enter_ W. SLY, _a_ Tire-man _following him with a stool._

_Tire-man._ Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit here.

_Sly._ Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private house. Thou dost

not take me for a country gentleman, dost? Dost think I fear 5

hissing? I’ll hold my life thou tookest me for one of the players.

_Tire-man._ No, sir.

_Sly._ By God’s slid,[2613] if you had, I would have given you

but sixpence for your stool. Let (10) them that have stale suits

sit in the galleries. Hiss at me! He that will be laught out of a

tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed well, or be drunk in good

company.—Where’s Harry Condell, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly? 15

Let me speak with some of them.

_Tire-man._ An’t please you to go in, sir, you may.

_Sly._ I tell you, no: I am one that hath seen this play often, and

can give them intelligence (20) for their action. I have most of the

jests here in my table-book.[2614]

_Enter_ SINKLO.

_Sinklo._ Save you coz!

_Sly._ O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs here. 25

_Sinklo._ No, indeed, cousin: the audience then will take me for a

viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me.

_Sly._ Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz.

_Sinklo._ We stayed for you at supper last (30) night at my cousin

Honeymoon’s, the woollen-draper. After supper we drew cuts for a

score of apricocks, the longest cut still to draw an apricock: by

this light, ’t was Mistress Frank Honeymoon’s fortune still to have

the longest (35) cut: I did measure for the women.—What be these,

coz?

_Enter_ D. BURBADGE, H. CONDELL, _and_ J. LOWIN.

_Sly._ The players.—God save you!

_Burbadge._ You are very welcome.

_Sly._ I pray you, know this gentleman, my (40) cousin; ’t is Master

Doomsday’s son, the usurer.

_Condell._ I beseech you, sir, be cover’d.

_Sly._ No, in good faith, for mine ease. Look you, my hat’s the

handle to this fan. God’s (45) so, what a beast was I, I did not

leave my feather at home! Well, but I’ll take an order with you.

_Puts his feather in his pocket._

_Burbadge._ Why do you conceal your feather, sir? 50

_Sly._ Why, do you think I’ll have jests broken upon me in the

play, to be laught at? This play hath beaten all your gallants out

of the feathers. Blackfriars hath almost spoiled Blackfriars for

feathers.[2615] 55

_Sinklo._ God’s so, I thought ’t was for somewhat our gentlewomen at

home counsell’d me to wear my feather to the play: yet I am loth to

spoil it.

_Sly._ Why, coz? 60

_Sinklo._ Because I got it in the tilt-yard; there was a herald broke

my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up and down the Strand,

and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it. 65

_Sly._ Do you hear, sir? this play is a bitter play.

_Condell._ Why, sir, ’t is neither satire nor moral, but the mean

passage of a history: yet there are a sort of discontented creatures

that (70) bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest

the doings of any man to their base, malicious applyment;[2616] but

should their interpretation come to the test, like your marmoset,

they presently turn their teeth to their tail (75) and eat it.

_Sly._ I will not go so far with you; but I say, any man that hath

wit may censure,[2617] if he sit in the twelve-penny room;[2618] and

I say again, the play is bitter. 80

_Burbadge._ Sir, you are like a patron that, presenting a poor

scholar to a benefice, enjoins him not to rail against anything that

stands within compass of his patron’s folly. Why should not we enjoy

the ancient freedom of poesy? (85) Shall we protest to the ladies

that their painting makes them angels? or to my young gallant that

his expense in the brothel shall gain him reputation? No, sir, such

vices as stand not accountable to law should be cured as (90) men

heal tetters,[2619] by casting ink upon them. Would you be satisfied

in anything else, sir?

_Sly._ Ay, marry, would I: I would know how you came by this play?

_Condell._ Faith, sir, the book was lost; and (95) because ’t was

pity so good a play should be lost, we found it, and play it.

_Sly._ I wonder you would play it, another company having interest in

it.

_Condell._ Why not Malevole in folio with (100) us, as Jeronimo in

decimo-sexto with them?[2620] They taught us a name for our play; we

call it _One For Another_.

_Sly._ What are your additions?

_Burbadge._ Sooth, not greatly needful; only (105) as your salad to

your great feast, to entertain a little more time, and to abridge the

not-received custom of music in our theatre. I must leave you, sir.

_Exit._

_Sinklo._ Doth he play the Malcontent? 110

_Condell._ Yes, sir.

_Sinklo._ I durst lay four of mine ears the play is not so well acted

as it hath been.

_Condell._ O, no, sir, nothing _ad Parmenonis suem_.[2621] 115

_Lowin._ Have you lost your ears, sir, that you are so prodigal of

laying them?

_Sinklo._ Why did you ask that, friend?

_Lowin._ Marry, sir, because I have heard of a fellow would offer

to lay a hundred-pound (120) wager, that was not worth five

baubees:[2622] and in this kind you might venture four of your

elbows; yet God defend[2623] your coat should have so many!

_Sinklo._ Nay, truly, I am no great censurer;[2624] (125) and yet I

might have been one of the college of critics once. My cousin here

hath an excellent memory, indeed, sir.

_Sly._ Who? I? I’ll tell you a strange thing of myself; and I can

tell you, for one that (130) never studied the art of memory, ’t is

very strange too.

_Condell._ What’s that, sir?

_Sly._ Why, I’ll lay a hundred pound, I’ll walk but once down by the

Goldsmith’s (135) Row in Cheap, take notice of the signs, and tell

you them with a breath instantly.

_Lowin._ ’T is very strange.

_Sly._ They begin as the world did, with Adam and Eve. There’s in all

just five and fifty. (140) I do use to meditate much when I come to

plays too. What do you think might come into a man’s head now, seeing

all this company?

_Condell._ I know not, sir.

_Sly._ I have an excellent thought. If some (145) fifty of the

Grecians that were cramm’d in the horse’ belly had eaten garlic, do

you not think the Trojans might have smelt out their knavery?

_Condell._ Very likely.

_Sly._ By God, I would [they] had, for I (150) love Hector horribly.

_Sinklo._ O, but, coz, coz!

“Great Alexander, when he came to the tomb of Achilles,

Spake with a big loud voice, O thou thrice blessed and happy!”[2625]

_Sly._ Alexander was an ass to speak so well (155) of a filthy

cullion.[2626]

_Lowin._ Good sir, will you leave the stage? I’ll help you to a

private room.

_Sly._ Come, coz, let’s take some tobacco.— Have you never a

prologue? 160

_Lowin._ Not any, sir.

_Sly._ Let me see, I will make one extempore.

_Come to them, and fencing of a congee[2627] with arms and legs, be

round with them._

Gentlemen, I could wish for the women’s sakes you had all soft

cushions; and gentlewomen, I could wish that for the men’s sakes you

(165) had all more easy standings.

What would they wish more but the play now? and that they shall have

instantly. [_Exeunt._]]

ACT I.[2628]

SCENE I.[2629]

_The vilest out-of-tune music being heard, enter_ BILIOSO _and_

PREPASSO.

_Bil._ Why, how now! Are ye mad, or drunk, or both, or what?

_Pre._ Are ye building Babylon there?

_Bil._ Here’s a noise in court? You think you are in a tavern, do you

not? 5

_Pre._ You think you are in a brothel-house, do you not?—This room

is ill-scented.

_Enter One with a perfume._

So, perfume, perfume: some upon me, I pray thee.

The duke is upon instant entrance; so, make place there!

SCENE II.[2630]

_Enter the_ DUKE PIETRO, FERRARDO, COUNT EQUATO, COUNT CELSO _before,

and_ GUERRINO.

_Pietro._ Where breathes that music?

_Bil._ The discord rather than the music is heard from the malcontent

Malevole’s chamber.

_Fer._ [_calling._] Malevole!

_Mal._ (_out of his chamber._) Yaugh, god-a-man, (5) what dost thou

there? Duke’s Ganymede, Juno’s jealous of thy long stockings. Shadow

of a woman, what wouldst, weasel? Thou lamb o’ court, what dost thou

bleat for? Ah, you smooth chinn’d catamite![2631] 10

_Pietro._ Come down, thou rugged[2632] cur, and snarl here; I give

thy dogged sullenness free liberty; trot about and bespurtle[2633]

whom thou pleasest.

_Mal._ I’ll come among you, you goatish-blooded (15) toderers,[2634]

as gum into taffeta, to fret, to fret. I’ll fall like a sponge into

water, to suck up, to suck up. Howl again;[2635] I’ll go to church

and come to you. [_Exit above._]

_Pietro._ This Malevole is one of the most (20) prodigious affections

that ever converst with nature: a man, or rather a monster, more

discontent than Lucifer when he was thrust out of the presence. His

appetite is insatiable as the grave; as far from any content as from 25

heaven. His highest delight is to procure others vexation, and

therein he thinks he truly serves heaven; for ’t is his position,

whosoever in this earth can be contented is a slave and damned;

therefore does he afflict all in (30) that to which they are most

affected.[2636] The elements struggle within him; his own soul is at

variance [within herself]:[2637] his speech is halter-worthy at all

hours. I like him, faith: he gives good intelligence to my spirit,

makes (35) me understand those weaknesses which others’ flattery

palliates. Hark! they sing.

SCENE III.[2638]

_A Song._

_Enter_ MALEVOLE _after the song_.

[_Pietro._] See, he comes. Now shall you hear the extremity of a

malcontent: he is as free as air; he blows over every man.—And, sir,

whence come you now? 4

_Mal._ From the public place of much dissimulation, [the church.][2639]

_Pietro._ What, didst there?

_Mal._ Talk with a usurer; take up at interest. 9

_Pietro._ I wonder what religion thou art [of]?[2639]

_Mal._ Of a soldier’s religion.

_Pietro._ And what dost thou think makes most infidels now? 14

_Mal._ Sects, sects. I have seen seeming Piety change her robe so

oft, that sure none but some arch-devil can shape her a new petticoat.

_Pietro._ O, a religious policy.

_Mal._ But, damnation on a politic religion! I am weary: would I were

one of the duke’s hounds now! 21

_Pietro._ But what ’s the common news abroad, Malevole? Thou dogg’st

rumour still.

_Mal._ Common news? Why, common words are, “God save ye,” “Fare ye

well;” common (25) actions, flattery and cozenage; common things,

women and cuckolds.—And how does my little Ferrard? Ah, ye lecherous

animal!—my little ferret, he goes sucking up and down the palace

into every hen’s nest, like a weasel:— (30) and to what dost thou

addict thy time to now more than to those antique painted drabs that

are still affected of[2640] young courtiers, Flattery, Pride, and

Venery? 34

_Fer._ I study languages. Who dost think to be the best linguist of

our age?

_Mal._ Phew! the devil: let him possess thee; he’ll teach thee to

speak all languages most readily and strangely; and great reason,

marry, he’s travel’d greatly i’ the world, and is everywhere. 41

_Fer._ Save i’ th’ court.

_Mal._ Ay, save i’ th’ court.—(_To_ BILIOSO.) And how does my old

muckhill, overspread with fresh snow? Thou half a man, half a 45

goat, all a beast! how does thy young wife, old huddle?

_Bil._ Out, you improvident rascal!

_Mal._ Do, kick thou hugely-horn’d old duke’s ox, good Master

Make-pleas. 50

_Pietro._ How dost thou live nowadays, Malevole?

_Mal._ Why, like the knight, Sir Patrick Penlolians, with killing o’

spiders for my lady’s monkey. 55

_Pietro._ How dost spend the night? I hear thou never sleep’st.

_Mal._ O, no; but dream the most fantastical! O heaven! O fubbery,

fubbery![2641]

_Pietro._ Dream! What dream’st? 60

_Mal._ Why, methinks I see that signior pawn his footcloth,[2642]

that metreza[2643] her plate: this madam takes physic that t’

other monsieur may minister to her: here is a pander jewel’d;

there a fellow in shift of satin this day, that (65) could not

shift a shirt t’ other night: here a Paris supports that Helen;

there’s a Lady Guinever bears up that Sir Lancelot. Dreams,

dreams, visions, fantasies, chimeras, imaginations, tricks,

conceits!—(_To_ PREPASSO.) Sir (70) Tristram, Trimtram, come aloft,

Jack-an-apes,[2644] with a whim-wham: here’s a knight of the land

of Catito shall play at trap[2645] with any page in Europe; do the

sword-dance with any morris-dancer in Christendom; ride at the ring

till (75) the fin[2646] of his eyes look as blue as the welkin; and

run the wildgoose-chase even with Pompey the Huge.

_Pietro._ You run! 79

_Mal._ To the devil. Now, signior Guerrino, that thou from a most

pitied prisoner shouldst grow a most loath’d flatterer!—Alas, poor

Celso, thy star’s opprest: thou art an honest lord: ’t is pity.

_Equato._ Is ’t pity? 85

_Mal._ Ay, marry is ’t, philosophical Equato; and ’t is pity that

thou, being so excellent a scholar by art, should be so ridiculous a

fool by nature.—I have a thing to tell you, duke: bid ’em avaunt,

bid ’em avaunt. 90

_Pietro._ Leave us, leave us.

_Exeunt all saving_ PIETRO _and_ MALEVOLE.

Now, sir, what is ’t?

_Mal._ Duke, thou art a becco,[2647] a cornuto.[2648]

_Pietro._ How!

_Mal._ Thou art a cuckold. 95

_Pietro._ Speak, unshale[2649] him quick.

_Mal._ With most tumbler-like nimbleness.

_Pietro._ Who? By whom? I burst with desire. 99

_Mal._ Mendoza is the man makes thee a horn’d beast; duke, ’t is

Mendoza cornutes thee.

_Pietro._ What conformance?[2650] Relate; short, short.

_Mal._ As a lawyer’s beard. 105

There is an old crone in the court, her name is Maquerelle,

She is my mistress, sooth to say, and she doth ever tell me.

Blirt[2651] o’ rhyme, blirt o’ rhyme! Maquerelle is a cunning bawd; I

am an honest villain; thy wife is a close drab;[2652] and thou art a

notorious cuckold. Farewell, duke. 111

_Pietro._ Stay, stay.

_Mal._ Dull, dull duke, can lazy patience make lame revenge? O God,

for a woman to make a man that which God never created, never made? 116

_Pietro._ What did God never make?

_Mal._ A cuckold: to be made a thing that ’s hoodwinkt with kindness,

whilst every rascal fillips his brows; to have a coxcomb with 120

egregious horns pinn’d to a lord’s back, every page sporting himself

with delightful laughter, whilst he must be the last must know it.

Pistols and poniards! pistols and poniards!

_Pietro._ Death and damnation! 125

_Mal._ Lightning and thunder!

_Pietro._ Vengeance and torture!

_Mal._ Catso![2653]

_Pietro._ O, revenge!

_Mal._ [[2654]Nay, to select among ten thousand fairs 130

A lady far inferior to the most,

In fair proportion both of limb and soul;

To take her from austerer check of parents,

To make her his by most devoutful rites,

Make her commandress of a better essence 135

Than is the gorgeous world, even of a man;

To hug her with as rais’d an appetite

As usurers do their delv’d-up treasury

(Thinking none tells[2655] it but his private self);

To meet her spirit in a nimble kiss, 140

Distilling panting ardour to her heart;

True to her sheets, nay, diets strong his blood,

To give her height of hymeneal sweets,—

_Pietro._ O God!

_Mal._ Whilst she lisps, and gives him some court-_quelquechose_, 145

Made only to provoke, not satiate:

And yet, even then, the thaw of her delight

Flows from lewd heat of apprehension,

Only from strange imagination’s rankness,

That forms the adulterer’s presence in her soul, 150

And makes her think she clips the foul knave’s loins.

_Pietro._ Affliction to my blood’s root!

_Mal._ Nay, think, but think what may proceed of this; adultery is

often the mother of incest. 155

_Pietro._ Incest!

_Mal._ Yes, incest: mark:—Mendoza of his wife begets perchance a

daughter: Mendoza dies, his son marries this daughter: say you? nay,

’t is frequent, not only probable, but no (160) question often acted,

whilst ignorance, fearless ignorance, clasps his own seed.

_Pietro._ Hideous imagination!

_Mal._ Adultery! Why, next to the sin of simony, ’t is the most

horrid transgression under the cope of salvation.[2656] 166

_Pietro._ Next to simony!

_Mal._ Ay, next to simony, in which our men in next age shall not sin.

_Pietro._ Not sin! why? 170

_Mal._ Because (thanks to some churchmen) our age will leave them

nothing to sin with. But adultery, O dulness! should show[2657]

exemplary punishment, that intemperate bloods may freeze but to think

it.] I would damn him (175) and all his generation: my own hands

should do it; ha, I would not trust heaven with my vengeance anything.

_Pietro._ Anything, anything, Malevole: thou shalt see instantly what

temper my spirit (180) holds. Farewell; remember I forget thee not;

farewell. _Exit_ PIETRO.

[[2658]_Mal._ Farewell.

Lean thoughtfulness, a sallow meditation,

Suck thy veins dry! Distemperance rob thy sleep! 185

The heart’s disquiet is revenge most deep:

He that gets blood, the life of flesh but spills,

But he that breaks heart’s peace, the dear soul kills.

Well, this disguise doth yet afford me that

Which kings do seldom hear, or great men use,— 190

Free speech: and though my state ’s usurpt,

Yet this affected strain gives me a tongue

As fetterless as is an emperor’s.

I may speak foolishly, ay, knavishly, 194

Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion

To poise[2659] my breath; for he that laughs and strikes

Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again.

Duke, I’ll torment thee now: my just revenge

From thee than crown a richer gem shall part:

Beneath God, naught’s so dear as a calm heart.] 200

SCENE IV.[2660]

_Enter_ CELSO.

_Celso._ My honour’d lord,—

_Mal._ Peace, speak low, peace! O Celso, constant lord,

(Thou to whose faith I only rest discovered,

Thou, one of full ten millions of men,

That lovest virtue only for itself; 5

Thou in whose hands old Ops[2661] may put her soul)

Behold forever-banisht Altofront,

This Genoa’s last year’s duke. O truly noble!

I wanted those old instruments of state,

Dissemblance and suspect: I could not time it, Celso; 10

My throne stood like a point in midst of a circle,

To all of equal nearness; bore with none;

Rein’d all alike; so slept in fearless virtue,

Suspectless, too suspectless; till the crowd,

(Still likerous of[2662] untried novelties) 15

Impatient with severer government,

Made strong with Florence, banisht Altofront.

_Celso._ Strong with Florence! ay, thence your mischief rose;

For when the daughter of the Florentine

Was match’d once with this Pietro, now duke,

No stratagem of state untri’d was left, 21

Till you of all—

_Mal._ Of all was quite bereft:

Alas, Maria too, close prisoned,

My true faith’d duchess, i’ the citadel! 24

_Celso._ I’ll still adhere: let’s mutiny and die.

_Mal._ O, no, climb not a falling tower, Celso;

’T is well held desperation, no zeal,

Hopeless to strive with fate. Peace! Temporize!

Hope, hope, that never forsak’st the wretched’st man, 29

Yet bidd’st me live, and lurk in this disguise!

What, play I well the free-breath’d discontent?

Why,[2663] man, we are all philosophical monarchs

Or natural fools. Celso, the court’s a-fire;

The duchess’ sheets will smoke for’t ere ’t be long:

Impure Mendoza, that sharp-nos’d lord, that made 35

The cursed match that linkt Genoa with Florence,

Now broad-horns the duke, which he now knows.

Discord to malcontents is very manna:

When the ranks are burst, then scuffle, Altofront.

_Celso._ Ay, but durst,— 40

_Mal._ ’T is gone; ’t is swallowed like a mineral:

Some say ’t will work; pheut, I’ll not shrink:

He’s resolute who can no lower sink:

[[2664] BILIOSO _entering_, MALEVOLE _shifteth his speech._

O the father of May-poles! did you never see a fellow whose strength

consisted in his breath, (45) respect in his office, religion in his

lord, and love in himself, why, then, behold!

_Bil._ Signior,—

_Mal._ My right worshipful lord, your court night-cap makes you have

a passing high forehead. 51

_Bil._ I can tell you strange news, but I am sure you know them

already: the duke speaks much good of you.

_Mal._ Go to, then: and shall you and I now enter into a strict

friendship? 56

_Bil._ Second one another?

_Mal._ Yes.

_Bil._ Do one another good offices? 59

_Mal._ Just: what though I call’d thee old ox, egregious wittol,

broken-bellied coward, rotten mummy? yet, since I am in favour—

_Bil._ Words of course, terms of disport. His grace presents you by

me a chain, as his grateful remembrance for—I am ignorant for 65

what; marry, ye may impart: yet howsoever—come—dear friend; dost

know my son?

_Mal._ Your son!

_Bil._ He shall eat wood-cocks, dance jigs, make possets, and play

at shuttle-cock with (70) any young lord about the court: he has as

sweet a lady, too; dost know her little bitch?

_Mal._ ’T is a dog, man.

_Bil._ Believe me, a she-bitch. O, ’t is a good creature! thou

shalt be her servant. I’ll (75) make thee acquainted with my young

wife too: what! I keep her not at court for nothing. ’T is grown to

supper-time; come to my table: that, anything I have, stands open to

thee.

_Mal._ (_Aside to_ CELSO.) How smooth to him that is in state of

grace, 80

How servile is the rugged’st courtier’s face!

What profit, nay, what nature would keep down,

Are heav’d to them are minions to a crown.

Envious ambition never sates his thirst,

Till, sucking all, he swells and swells, and bursts. 85

_Bil._ I shall now leave you with my always-best wishes; only let’s

hold betwixt us a firm correspondence, a mutual friendly-reciprocal

kind of a steady-unanimous-heartily-leagued— 90

_Mal._ Did your signorship ne’er see a pigeon-house that was smooth,

round, and white without, and full of holes and stink within? Ha’ ye

not, old courtier? 94

_Bil._ O, yes, ’t is the form, the fashion of them all.

_Mal._ Adieu, my true court-friend; farewell, my dear Castilio.[2665]

_Exit_ BILIOSO.]

_Celso._ Yonder’s Mendoza.

_Descries_ MENDOZA.

_Mal._ True, the privy-key. 99

_Celso._ I take my leave, sweet lord.

_Mal._ ’T is fit; away! _Exit_ CELSO.

SCENE V.[2666]

_Enter_ MENDOZA _with three or four_ Suitors.

_Men._ Leave your suits with me; I can and will. Attend my secretary;

leave me. [_Exeunt_ Suitors.]

_Mal._ Mendoza, hark ye, hark ye. You are a treacherous villain: God

b’ wi’ ye!

_Men._ Out, you base-born rascal! 5

_Mal._ We are all the sons of heaven, though a tripe-wife were our

mother: ah, you whoreson, hot-rein’d he-marmoset! Aegisthus! didst

ever hear of one Aegisthus?

_Men._ Gisthus? 10

_Mal._ Ay, Aegisthus: he was a filthy incontinent flesh-monger, such

a one as thou art.

_Men._ Out, grumbling rogue!

_Mal._ Orestes, beware Orestes!

_Men._ Out, beggar! 15

_Mal._ I once shall rise!

_Men._ Thou rise!

_Mal._ At the resurrection.

No vulgar seed but once may rise and shall;

No king so huge but ’fore he die may fall. 20

_Exit._

_Men._ Now, good Elysium! what a delicious heaven is it for a man

to be in a prince’s favour! O sweet God! O pleasure! O fortune! O

all thou best of life! What should I think, what say, what do to

be a favourite, a minion? (25) to have a general timorous respect

observe[2667] a man, a stateful silence in his presence, solitariness

in his absence, a confused hum and busy murmur of obsequious suitors

training[2668] him; the cloth held up, and way proclaim’d before

(30) him; petitionary vassels licking the pavement with their

slavish knees, whilst some odd palace-lampreels[2669] that engender

with snakes, and are full of eyes on both sides, with a kind of

insinuating humbleness, fix all (35) their delights upon his brow. O

blessed state! what a ravishing prospect doth the Olympus of favour

yield! Death, I cornute the duke! Sweet women! most sweet ladies! nay,

angels! by heaven, he is more accursed than a devil (40) that hates

you, or is hated by you; and happier than a god that loves you, or is

beloved by you. You preservers of mankind, life-blood of society, who

would live, nay, who can live without you? O paradise! how majestical

is your (45) austerer presence! how imperiously chaste is your more

modest face! but, O, how full of ravishing attraction is your pretty,

petulant, languishing, lasciviously-composed countenance! these

amorous smiles, those soul-warming (50) sparkling glances, ardent

as those flames that singed the world by heedless Phaeton! in body

how delicate, in soul how witty, in discourse how pregnant, in life,

how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how sociable, and (55) in

night how—O pleasure unutterable! indeed, it is most certain, one

man cannot deserve only to enjoy a beauteous woman: but a duchess! In

despite of Phoebus, I’ll write a sonnet instantly in praise of her.

_Exit._ 60

SCENE VI.[2670]

_Enter_ FERNEZE _ushering_ AURELIA, EMILIA _and_ MAQUERELLE _bearing up

her train_, BIANCA _attending; then exeunt_ EMILIA _and_ BIANCA.

_Aurel._ And is ’t possible? Mendoza slight me! Possible?

_Fer._ Possible!

What can be strange in him that’s drunk with favour,

Grows insolent with grace?—Speak, Maquerelle, speak. 5

_Maq._ To speak feelingly, more, more richly in solid sense than

worthless words, give me those jewels of your ears to receive my

enforced duty. As for my part, ’t is well known I can put up anything

(FERNEZE _privately feeds_ MAQUERELLE’S (10) _hands with jewels

during this speech_); can bear patiently with any man: but when I

heard he wronged your precious sweetness, I was enforced to take deep

offence. ’T is most certain he loves Emilia with high appetite: 15

and, as she told me (as you know we women impart our secrets one to

another), when she repulsed his suit, in that he was possessed with

your endeared grace, Mendoza most ingratefully renounced all faith to

you. 20

_Fer._ Nay, call’d you—Speak, Maquerelle, speak.

_Maq._ By heaven, witch, dri’d biscuit; and contested blushlessly he

lov’d you but for a spurt or so.

_Fer._ For maintenance. 25

_Maq._ Advancement and regard.

_Aurel._ O villain! O impudent Mendoza!

_Maq._ Nay, he is the rustiest-jaw’d, the foulest mouth’d knave in

railing against our sex: he will rail again’ women— 30

_Aurel._ How? how?

_Maq._ I am asham’d to speak ’t, I.

_Aurel._ I love to hate him: speak.

_Maq._ Why, when Emilia scorn’d his base unsteadiness, the

black-throated rascal scolded, and said— 35

_Aurel._ What?

_Maq._ Troth, ’t is too shameless.

_Aurel._ What said he?

_Maq._ Why, that, at four, women were (40) fools; at fourteen, drabs;

at forty, bawds; at fourscore, witches; and [at] a hundred, cats.

_Aurel._ O unlimitable impudency!

_Fer._ But as for poor Ferneze’s fixed heart,

Was never shadeless meadow drier parcht 45

Under the scorching heat of heaven’s dog,

Than is my heart with your enforcing eyes.

_Maq._ A hot simile.

_Fer._ Your smiles have been my heaven, your frowns my hell:

O, pity, then! grace should with beauty dwell. 50

_Maq._ Reasonable perfect, by ’r lady.

_Aurel._ I will love thee, be it but in despite

Of that Mendoza:—witch! Ferneze,—witch!—

Ferneze, thou art the duchess’ favourite:

Be faithful, private: but ’t is dangerous. 55

_Fer._ His love is lifeless that for love fears breath:

The worst that’s due to sin, O, would ’t were death!

_Aurel._ Enjoy my favour. I will be sick instantly and take physic:

therefore in depth of night visit— 60

_Maq._ Visit her chamber, but conditionally you shall not offend her

bed: by this diamond!

_Fer._ By this diamond. _Gives it to_ MAQ.

_Maq._ Nor tarry longer than you please: by this ruby! 65

_Fer._ By this ruby. _Gives again._

_Maq._ And that the door shall not creak.

_Fer._ And that the door shall not creak.

_Maq._ Nay, but swear.

_Fer._ By this purse. _Giving her his purse._

_Maq._ Go to, I’ll keep your oaths for you: (71) remember, visit.

_Enter_ MENDOZA, _reading a sonnet_.

_Aurel._ Dried biscuit!—Look where the base wretch comes. 74

_Men._ “Beauty’s life, heaven’s model, love’s queen,”—

_Maq._ That ’s his Emilia.

_Men._ “Nature’s triumph, best of earth,”—

_Maq._ Meaning Emilia. 79

_Men._ “Thou only wonder that the world hath seen.”—

_Maq._ That ’s Emilia.

_Aurel._ Must I, then, hear her prais’d?—Mendoza!

_Men._ Madam, your excellency is graciously (85) encount’red: I have

been writing passionate flashes in honour of— _Exit_ FERNEZE.

_Aurel._ Out, villain, villain!

O judgment, where have been my eyes? what

Bewitch’d election made me dote on thee? 90

What sorcery made me love thee? But, be gone;

Bury thy head. O, that I could do more

Than loath thee! hence, worst of ill!

No reason else,[2671] our reason is our will. _Exit with_ MAQUERELLE.

_Men._ Women! nay, Furies; nay, worse; (95) for they torment only

the bad, but women good and bad. Damnation of mankind! Breath, hast

thou prais’d them for this? and is ’t you, Ferneze, are wriggled

into smock-grace? Sit sure. O, that I could rail against these

monsters (100) in nature, models of hell, curse of the earth, women!

that dare attempt anything, and what they attempt they care not how

they accomplish; without all premeditation or prevention; rash in

asking, desperate in working, impatient (105) in suffering, extreme

in desiring, slaves unto appetite, mistresses in dissembling, only

constant in unconstancy, only perfect in counterfeiting; their words

are feigned, their eyes forg’d, their sighs dissembled, their looks

(110) counterfeit, their hair false, their given hopes deceitful,

their very breath artificial; their blood is their only god; bad

clothes and old age are only the devils they tremble at. That I could

rail now! 115

SCENE VII.[2672]

_Enter_ PIETRO, _his sword drawn_.

_Pietro._ A mischief fill thy throat, thou foul-jaw’d slave!

Say thy prayers.

_Men._ I ha’ forgot ’em.

_Pietro._ Thou shalt die.

_Men._ So shalt thou. I am heart-mad.

_Pietro._ I am horn-mad.

_Men._ Extreme mad.

_Pietro._ Monstrously mad.

_Men._ Why?

_Pietro._ Why! thou, thou hast dishonoured my bed. 5

_Men._ I! Come, come, sit; here ’s my bare heart to thee,

As steady as is the[2673] centre to this[2674] glorious world:

And yet, hark, thou art a cornuto,—but by me?

_Pietro._ Yes, slave, by thee.

_Men._ Do not, do not with tart and spleenful breath 10

Lose him can lose thee. I offend my duke!

Bear record, O ye dumb and raw-air’d nights,

How vigilant my sleepless eyes have been

To watch the traitor! Record, thou spirit of truth,

With what debasement I ha’ thrown myself 15

To under offices, only to learn

The truth, the party, time, the means, the place,

By whom, and when, and where thou wert disgrac’d!

And am I paid with “slave”? Hath my intrusion

To places private and prohibited, 20

Only to observe the closer passages,

Heaven knows with vows of revelation,

Made me suspected, made me deem’d a villain?

What rogue hath wrong’d us?

_Pietro._ Mendoza, I may err.

_Men._ Err! ’t is too mild a name: but err and err, 25

Run giddy with suspect, ’fore through me thou know

That which most creatures, save thyself, do know:

Nay, since my service hath so loath’d reject,

’Fore I ’ll reveal, shalt find them clipt[2675] together. 29

_Pietro._ Mendoza, thou know’st I am a most plain-breasted man.

_Men._ The fitter to make a cuckold: would your brows were most plain

too!

_Pietro._ Tell me: indeed, I heard thee rail—

_Men._ At women, true: why, what cold phlegm could choose, 35

Knowing a lord so honest, virtuous,

So boundless loving, bounteous, fair-shap’d, sweet,

To be contemn’d, abus’d, defam’d, made cuckold?

Heart! I hate all women for ’t: sweet sheets, (39) wax lights,

antique bedposts, cambric smocks, villanous curtains, arras pictures,

oil’d hinges, and all ye tongue-tied lascivious witnesses of great

creatures’ wantonness,—what salvation can you expect?

_Pietro._ Wilt thou tell me? 45

_Men._ Why, you may find it yourself; observe, observe.

_Pietro._ I ha’ not the patience. Wilt thou deserve me, tell, give it.

_Men._ Take ’t. why, Ferneze is the man, (50) Ferneze: I’ll prove ’t;

this night you shall take him in your sheets. Will ’t serve?

_Pietro._ It will; my bosom ’s in some peace: till night—

_Men._ What?

_Pietro._ Farewell.

_Men._ God! how weak a lord are you!

Why, do you think there is no more but so? 55

_Pietro._ Why!

_Men._ Nay, then, will I presume to counsel you:

It should be thus. You with some guard upon the sudden

Break into the princess’ chamber: I stay behind,

Without the door, through which he needs must pass: 60

Ferneze flies; let him: to me he comes; he’s kill’d

By me, observe, by me: you follow: I rail,

And seem to save the body. Duchess comes,

On whom (respecting her advanced birth, 64

And your fair nature), I know, nay, I do know,

No violence must be us’d; she comes: I storm,

I praise, excuse Ferneze, and still maintain

The duchess’ honour; she for this loves me.

I honour you; shall know her soul, you mine:

Then naught shall she contrive in vengeance 70

(As women are most thoughtful in revenge)

Of her Ferneze, but you shall sooner know ’t

Than she can think ’t. Thus shall his death come sure,

Your duchess brain-caught: so your life secure.

_Pietro._ It is too well: my bosom and my heart 75

When nothing helps, cut off the rotten part. _Exit._

_Men._ Who cannot feign friendship can ne’er produce the effects of

hatred. Honest fool duke! subtle lascivious duchess! silly novice

Ferneze! I do laugh at ye. My brain is in labour till it (80) produce

mischief, and I feel sudden throes, proofs sensible, the issue is at

hand.

As bears shape young, so I’ll form my device,

Which grown proves horrid: vengeance makes men wise. [_Exit._]

[SCENE VIII.][2676]

[_Enter_ MALEVOLE _and_ PASSARELLO.

_Mal._ Fool, most happily encount’red: canst sing, fool?

_Pass._ Yes, I can sing, fool, if you’ll hear the burden; and I can

play upon instruments, scurvily, as gentlemen do. O, that I had been

(5) gelded! I should then have been a fat fool for a chamber, a

squeaking fool for a tavern, and a private fool for all the ladies.

_Mal._ You are in good case since you came to court, fool: what,

guarded,[2677] guarded! 10

_Pass._ Yes, faith, even as footmen and bawds wear velvet, not for an

ornament of honour, but for a badge of drudgery; for, now the duke is

discontented, I am fain to fool him asleep every night. 15

_Mal._ What are his griefs?

_Pass._ He hath sore eyes.

_Mal._ I never observed so much.

_Pass._ Horrible sore eyes; and so hath every cuckold, for the roots

of the horns spring in (20) the eyeballs, and that ’s the reason the

horn of a cuckold is as tender as his eye, or as that growing in the

woman’s forehead, twelve years since, that could not endure to be

toucht.[2678] The duke hangs down his head like a columbine. 25

_Mal._ Passarello, why do great men beg fools?[2679]

_Pass._ As the Welshman stole rushes when there was nothing else to

filch; only to keep begging in fashion. 30

_Mal._ Pooh, thou givest no good reason; thou speakest like a fool.

_Pass._ Faith, I utter small fragments, as your knight courts your

city widow with jingling of his gilt spurs,[2680] advancing his

bush-coloured (35) beard, and taking tobacco: this is all the mirror

of their knightly complements.[2681] Nay, I shall talk when my tongue

is a-going once; ’t is like a citizen on horseback, evermore in a

false gallop. 40

_Mal._ And how doth Maquerelle fare nowadays?

_Pass._ Faith, I was wont to salute her as our English women are at

their first landing in Flushing;[2682] I would call her whore: but

now (45) that antiquity leaves her as an old piece of plastic to work

by, I only ask her how her rotten teeth fare every morning, and so

leave her. She was the first that ever invented perfum’d smocks for

the gentlewomen, and (50) woollen shoes, for fear of creaking for the

visitant. She were an excellent lady, but that her face peeleth like

Muscovy glass.[2683]

_Mal._ And how doth thy old lord, that hath wit enough to be a

flatterer, and conscience enough to be a knave? 55

_Pass._ O, excellent: he keeps beside me fifteen jesters, to instruct

him in the art of fooling, and utters their jests in private to the

duke and duchess. He’ll lie like to your Switzer or (60) lawyer;

he’ll be of any side for most money.

_Mal._ I am in haste, be brief.

_Pass._ As your fiddler when he is paid.—He ’ll thrive, I warrant

you, while your young (64) courtier stands like Good Friday in Lent;

men long to see it, because more fatting days come after it; else

he’s the leanest and pitifullest actor in the whole pageant. Adieu,

Malevole.

_Mal._ O world most vile, when thy loose vanities, 69

Taught by this fool, do make the fool seem wise!

_Pass._ You’ll know me again, Malevole.

_Mal._ O, ay, by that velvet.

_Pass._ Ay, as a pettifogger by his buckram bag. I am as common in

the court as an hostess’s (74) lips in the country; knights, and

clowns, and knaves, and all share me; the court cannot possibly be

without me. Adieu, Malevole.

[_Exeunt._]

ACT II

SCENE I.[2684]

_Enter_ MENDOZA, _with a sconce,[2685] to observe_ FERNEZE’S _entrance,

who, whilst the act is playing, enters unbraced, two_ Pages _before him

with lights_; _is met by_ MAQUERELLE _and convey’d in_; _the_ Pages

_are sent away_.

_Men._ He’s caught, the woodcock’s head is i’ th’ noose.

Now treads Ferneze in dangerous path of lust,

Swearing his sense is merely[2686] deified:

The fool grasps clouds, and shall beget Centaurs:

And now, in strength of panting faint delight, 5

The goat bids heaven envy him.—Good goose,

I can afford thee nothing

But the poor comfort of calamity, pity.

Lust ’s like the plummets hanging on clock-lines,

Will ne’er ha’ done till all is quite undone; 10

Such is the course salt sallow lust doth run;

Which thou shalt try. I’ll be reveng’d. Duke, thy suspect;

Duchess, thy disgrace; Ferneze, thy rivalship;

Shall have swift vengeance. Nothing so holy,

No band of nature so strong, 15

No law of friendship so sacred,

But I’ll profane, burst, violate, ’fore I’ll

Endure disgrace, contempt, and poverty.

Shall I, whose very “Hum” struck all heads bare,

Whose face made silence, creaking of whose shoe 20

Forc’d the most private passages fly ope,

Scrape like a servile dog at some latch’d door?

Learn how to make a leg, and cry “Beseech ye,

Pray ye, is such a lord within?” be aw’d

At some odd usher’s scoff’d formality? 25

First sear my brains! _Unde cadis non quo, refert_;[2687]

My heart cries, “Perish all!” How! how! what fate

Can once avoid revenge, that’s desperate? 28

I ’ll to the duke; if all should ope—If! tush.

Fortune still dotes on those who cannot blush.

[_Exit._]

SCENE II.[2688]

_Enter_ MALEVOLE _at one door_; BIANCA, EMILIA, _and_ MAQUERELLE _at

the other door_.

_Mal._ Bless ye, cast[2689] o’ ladies!—Ha, Dipsas! how dost thou,

old coal?

_Maq._ Old coal!

_Mal._ Ay, old coal; methinks thou liest like a brand under these

billets of green wood. He (5) that will inflame a young wench’s

heart, let him lay close to her an old coal that hath first been

fir’d, a panderess, my half-burnt lint, who though thou canst not

flame thyself, yet art able to set a thousand virgin’s tapers

afire.—And (10) how does Janivere thy husband, my little periwinkle?

Is he troubled with the cough o’ the lungs still? Does he hawk o’

nights still? He will not bite.

_Bian._ No, by my troth. I took him with (15) his mouth empty of old

teeth.

_Mal._ And he took thee with thy belly full of young bones: marry, he

took his maim by the stroke of his enemy. 19

_Bian._ And I mine by the stroke of my friend.

_Mal._ The close stock![2690] O mortal wench! Lady, ha’ ye now no

restoratives for your decayed Jasons? Look ye, crab’s guts bak’d,

distill’d ox-pith, the pulverized hairs of a lion’s upper-lip,

jelly of cock-sparrows, he-monkey’s (25) marrow, or powder of

fox-stones?—And whither are all you ambling now?

_Bian._ Why, to bed, to bed.

_Mal._ Do your husbands lie with ye?

_Bian._ That were country fashion, i’ faith. 30

_Mal._ Ha’ ye no foregoers about you? Come, whither in good deed, la’

now?

_Maq._ In good indeed, la now, to eat the most miraculously,

admirably, astonishable compos’d posset with three curds, without any

drink. (35) Will ye help me with a he-fox?—Here’s the duke. _Exeunt_

Ladies.

[_Mal._ Fri’d frogs are very good, and French-like too.][2691]

SCENE III.[2692]

_Enter_ DUKE PIETRO, COUNT CELSO, COUNT EQUATO, BILIOSO, FERRARDO,

_and_ MENDOZA.

_Pietro._ The night grows deep and foul: what hour is ’t?

_Celso._ Upon the stroke of twelve.

_Mal._ Save ye, Duke!

_Pietro._ From thee: begone, I do not love (5) thee! Let me see thee

no more; we are displeas’d.

_Mal._ Why, God b’ wi’ thee! Heaven hear my curse,—may thy wife and

thee live long together! 10

_Pietro._ Begone, sirrah!

_Mal._ “When Arthur first in court began,”—Agamemnon—Menelaus—was

ever any duke a cornuto?

_Pietro._ Begone, hence! 15

_Mal._ What religion wilt thou be of next?

_Men._ Out with him!

_Mal._ With most servile patience.—Time will come

When wonder of thy error will strike dumb

Thy bezzled[2693] senses.— 20

Slaves! ay, favour: ay, marry, shall he rise:

Good God! how subtle hell doth flatter vice!

Mounts him aloft, and makes him seem to fly,

As fowl the tortoise mock’d, who to the sky

The ambitious shell-fish rais’d! The end of all

Is only, that from height he might dead fall. 26

[[2694]_Bil._ Why, when? Out, ye rogue! begone, ye rascal!

_Mal._ I shall now leave ye with all my best wishes. 30

_Bil._ Out, ye cur!

_Mal._ Only let’s hold together a firm correspondence.

_Bil._ Out!

_Mal._ A mutual-friendly-reciprocal-perpetual kind of

steady-unanimous-heartily-leagued— 36

_Bil._ Hence, ye gross-jaw’d, peasantly—out, go!

_Mal._ Adieu, pigeon-house; thou burr, that only stickest to

nappy fortunes. The serpigo,[2695] (40) the strangury, an eternal

uneffectual priapism seize thee!

_Bil._ Out, rogue!

_Mal._ May’st thou be a notorious wittolly pander to thine own wife,

and yet get no office, (46) but live to be the utmost misery of

mankind, a beggarly cuckold!] _Exit._

_Pietro._ It shall be so.

_Men._ It must be so, for where great states revenge,

’T is requisite the parts be closely dogg’d, 50

(Which piety and soft respect forbears).[2696]

Lay one into his breast shall sleep with him,

Feed in the same dish, run in self-faction,

Who may discover any shape of danger;

For once disgrac’d, displayed in offence, 55

It makes man blushless, and man is (all confess)

More prone to vengeance than to gratefulness.

Favours are writ in dust; but stripes we feel.

Depraved nature stamps in lasting steel.

_Pietro._ You shall be leagu’d with the duchess.

_Equato._ The plot is very good. 61

_Men._ You shall both kill, and seem the corse to save.

_Fer._ A most fine brain-trick.

_Celso._ (_Aside._) Of a most cunning knave. 64

_Pietro._ My lords, the heavy action we intend

Is death and shame, two of the ugliest shapes

That can confound a soul; think, think of it.

I strike, but yet, like him that ’gainst stone walls

Directs, his shafts rebound in his own face;

My lady’s shame is mine, O God, ’t is mine! 70

Therefore I do conjure all secrecy:

Let it be as very little as may be,

Pray ye, as may be,

Make frightless entrance, salute her with soft eyes,

Stain nought with blood; only Ferneze dies, 75

But not before her brows. O gentlemen,

God knows I love her! Nothing else, but this:—I

am not well: if grief, that sucks veins dry,

Rivels[2697] the skin, casts ashes in men’s faces,

Be-dulls the eye, unstrengthens all the blood, 80

Chance to remove me to another world,

As sure I once must die, let him succeed:

I have no child; all that my youth begot

Hath been your loves, which shall inherit me:

Which as it ever shall, I do conjure it, 85

Mendoza may succeed: he’s nobly born;

With me of much desert.

_Celso._ (_Aside._) Much!

_Pietro._ Your silence answers, “Ay.”

I thank you. Come on now. O, that I might die 90

Before her shame ’s display’d! Would I were forc’d

To burn my father’s tomb, unheal[2698] his bones,

And dash them in the dirt, rather than this!

This both the living and the dead offends: 94

Sharp surgery where naught but death amends.

_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.[2699]

_Enter_ MAQUERELLE, EMILIA, _and_ BIANCA _with a posset_.

_Maq._ Even here it is, three curds in three regions individually

distinct, most methodically according to art compos’d, without any

drink.

_Bian._ Without any drink! 4

_Maq._ Upon my honour. Will ye sit and eat?

_Emil._ Good; the composure, the receipt, how is ’t?

_Maq._ ’T is a pretty pearl; by this pearl (how does’t with

me?[2700]) thus it is: Seven and thirty yolks of Barbary hens’ eggs;

eighteen spoonfuls (10) and a half of the juice of cock-sparrow

bones; one ounce, three drams, four scruples, and one quarter of the

syrup of Ethiopian dates; sweetened with three quarters of a pound of

pure candied Indian eringoes; strewed (15) over with the powder of

pearl of America, amber of Cataia, and lamb-stones of Muscovia.

_Bian._ Trust me, the ingredients are very cordial, and, no question,

good, and most powerful in restoration. 20

_Maq._ I know not what you mean by restoration; but this it doth,—it

purifieth the blood, smootheth the skin, enliveneth the eye,

strengtheneth the veins, mundifieth[2701] the teeth, comforteth the

stomach, fortifieth the back, (25) and quickeneth the wit; that’s all.

_Emil._ By my troth, I have eaten but two spoonfuls, and methinks I

could discourse most swiftly and wittily already.

_Maq._ Have you the art to seem honest? 30

_Bian._ Ay, thank advice and practice.

_Maq._ Why, then, eat me o’ this posset, quicken your blood, and

preserve your beauty. Do you know Doctor Plaster-face? by this curd,

he is the most exquisite in forging of veins, (35) sprightening

of eyes, dying of hair, sleeking of skins, blushing of cheeks,

surphling[2702] of breasts, blanching and bleaching of teeth, that

ever made an old lady gracious by torchlight; by this curd, la. 40

_Bian._ Well, we are resolved, what God has given us we’ll cherish.

_Maq._ Cherish anything saving your husband; keep him not too high,

lest he leap the pale: but, for your beauty, let it be your saint; 45

bequeath two hours to it every morning in your closet. I ha’

been young, and yet, in my conscience, I am not above five and

twenty: but, believe me, preserve and use your beauty; for youth

and beauty once gone, we are like beehives (50) without honey,

out-o’-fashion apparel that no man will wear: therefore use me your

beauty.

_Emil._ Ay, but men say—

_Maq._ Men say! let men say what they (55) will: life o’ woman! they

are ignorant of our wants. The more in years, the more in perfection

they grow; if they lose youth and beauty, they gain wisdom and

discretion: but when our beauty fades, good-night with us. There 60

cannot be an uglier thing than to see an old woman: from which, O

pruning, pinching, and painting, deliver all sweet beauties! [_Music

within._]

_Bian._ Hark! music! 64

_Maq._ Peace, ’tis i’ the duchess’ bed-chamber. Good rest, most

prosperously-graced ladies.

_Emil._ Good night, sentinel.

_Bian._ Night, dear Maquerelle.

_Exeunt all but_ MAQ.

_Maq._ May my posset’s operation send you my wit and honesty; and me,

your youth and (70) beauty; the pleasing’st rest! _Exit._

SCENE V.[2703]

_A Song_ [_within_].

_Whilst the song is singing, enter_ MENDOZA _with his sword drawn,

standing ready to murder_ FERNEZE _as he flies from the_ duchess’

_chamber.—Tumult within._

_All_ [_within._] Strike, strike!

_Aur._ [_within._] Save my Ferneze! O, save my Ferneze!

_Enter_ FERNEZE _in his shirt, and is receiv’d upon_ MENDOZA’S _sword_.

_All_ [_within._] Follow, pursue!

_Aur._ [_within._] O, save Ferneze!

_Men._ Pierce, pierce!—Thou shallow fool, drop there!

He that attempts a princess’ lawless love 5

Must have broad hands, close heart, with Argus’ eyes,

And back of Hercules, or else he dies.

_Thrusts his rapier in_ FER.

_Enter_ AURELIA, PIETRO, FERRARDO, BILIOSO, CELSO, _and_ EQUATO.

_All._ Follow, follow!

_Men._ Stand off, forbear, ye most uncivil lords!

_Pietro._ Strike!

_Men._ Do not; tempt not a man resolv’d: 10

MENDOZA _bestrides the wounded body of_ FERNEZE, _and seems to save

him._

Would you, inhuman murderers, more than death?

_Aur._ O poor Ferneze!

_Men._ Alas, now all defence too late!

_Aur._ He’s dead.

_Pietro._ I am sorry for our shame.—Go to your bed: 15

Weep not too much, but leave some tears to shed

When I am dead.

_Aur._ What, weep for thee! my soul no tears shall find.

_Pietro._ Alas, alas, that women’s souls are blind!

_Men._ Betray such beauty! 20

Murder such youth! Contemn civility!

He loves him not that rails not at him.

_Pietro._ Thou canst not move us: we have blood enough.—

And please you, lady, we have quite forgot

All your defects: if not, why, then— 25

_Aur._ Not.

_Pietro._ Not: the best of rest: good-night.

_Exit_ PIETRO, _with other_ Courtiers.

_Aur._ Despite go with thee!

_Men._ Madam, you ha’ done me foul disgrace; you have wrong’d him

much loves you too much: go to, your soul knows you have. 31

_Aur._ I think I have.

_Men._ Do you but think so?

_Aur._ Nay, sure, I have: my eyes have witnessed thy love: thou hast

stood too firm for me. 36

_Men._ Why, tell me, fair-cheekt lady, who even in tears art

powerfully beauteous, what unadvised passion struck ye into such a

violent heat against me? Speak, what mischief (40) wrong’d us? What

devil injur’d us? Speak.

_Aur._ The thing ne’er worthy of the name of man, Ferneze;

Ferneze swore thou lov’st Emilia;

Which to advance, with most reproachful breath 45

Thou both didst blemish and denounce my love.

_Men._ Ignoble villain! did I for this bestride

Thy wounded limbs? for this, rank opposite

Even to my sovereign? for this, O God, for this, 49

Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life?

Ripp’d bare my throat unto the hangman’s axe?——

Thou most dishonour’d trunk!—Emilia!

By life, I know her not—Emilia—!

Did you believe him?

_Aur._ Pardon me, I did.

_Men._ Did you? And thereupon you graced him? 55

_Aur._ I did.

_Men._ Took him to favour, nay even clasp’d

With him?

_Aur._ Alas, I did!

_Men._ This night?

_Aur._ This night.

_Men._ And in your lustful twines the duke took you?

_Aur._ A most sad truth.

_Men._ O God, O God! how we dull honest souls, 60

Heavy brain’d men, are swallowed in the bogs

Of a deceitful ground, whilst nimble bloods,

Light-jointed spirits, speed;[2704] cut good men’s throats,

And scape! Alas, I am too honest for this age,

Too full of phlegm and heavy steadiness; 65

Stood still whilst this slave cast a noose about me;

Nay, then to stand in honour of him and her,

Who had even slic’d my heart!

_Aur._ Come, I did err,

And am most sorry I did err.

_Men._ Why, we are both but dead: the duke hates us; 70

And those whom princes do once groundly[2705] hate,

Let them provide to die, as sure as fate.

Prevention is the heart of policy.

_Aur._ Shall we murder him?

_Men._ Instantly? 75

_Aur._ Instantly; before he casts a plot,

Or further blaze my honour’s much-known blot.

Let’s murder him.

_Men._ I would do much for you: will ye marry me?

_Aur._ I’ll make thee duke. We are of Medicis; 80

Florence our friend; in court my faction

Not meanly strengthful; the duke then dead;

We well prepar’d for change; the multitude

Irresolutely reeling; we in force;

Our party seconded; the kingdom maz’d; 85

No doubt of[2706] swift success all shall be grac’d.

_Men._ You do confirm me, we are resolute:

To-morrow look for change: rest confident.

’T is now about the immodest waist of night:

The mother of moist dew with pallid light 90

Spreads gloomy shades about the numbed earth.

Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischief’s birth.

This man I’ll get inhum’d. Farewell: to bed;

Ay, kiss thy pillow, dream the duke is dead.

So, so, good night. _Exit_ AURELIA.

How fortune dotes on impudence! 95

I am in private the adopted son

Of yon good prince:

I must be duke: why, if I must, I must.

Most silly lord, name me! O heaven! I see

God made honest fools to maintain crafty knaves. 100

The duchess is wholly mine too; must kill her husband

To quit her shame. Much! then marry her! Ay.

O, I grow proud in prosperous treachery!

As wrestlers clip, so I’ll embrace you all,

Not to support, but to procure your fall. 105

_Enter_ MALEVOLE.

_Mal._ God arrest thee!