Your credit ’s saved. [Executioners _strangle_ CARIOLA.]
Bear her into th’ next room; 265
Let these lie still.
[_Exeunt_ Executioners _with body of_ CARIOLA.]
[_Enter_ FERDINAND.]
_Ferd._ Is she dead?
_Bos._ She is what
You ’d have her. But here begin your pity:
_Shows the_ Children _strangled._
Alas, how have these offended?
_Ferd._ The death
Of young wolves is never to be pitied.
_Bos._ Fix your eye here.
_Ferd._ Constantly.
_Bos._ Do you not weep? 270
Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out.
The element of water moistens the earth,
But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.
_Ferd._ Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
_Bos._ I think not so; her infelicity 275
Seem’d to have years too many.
_Ferd._ She and I were twins;
And should I die this instant, I had liv’d
Her time to a minute.
_Bos._ It seems she was born first:
You have bloodily approv’d the ancient truth,
That kindred commonly do worse agree 281
Than remote strangers.
_Ferd._ Let me see her face
Again. Why didst thou not pity her? What
An excellent honest man mightst thou have been,
If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary! 285
Or, bold in a good cause,—oppos’d thyself,
With thy advanced sword above thy head,
Between her innocence and my revenge!
I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits,
Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done ’t.
For let me but examine well the cause: 291
What was the meanness of her match to me?
Only I must confess I had a hope,
Had she continu’d widow, to have gain’d
An infinite mass of treasure by her death: 295
And that was the main cause,—her marriage,
That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart.
For thee, as we observe in tragedies
That a good actor many times is curs’d
For playing a villain’s part, I hate thee for ’t.
And, for my sake, say, thou hast done much ill well. 301
_Bos._ Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive
You are falling into ingratitude: I challenge
The reward due to my service.
_Ferd._ I’ll tell thee
What I’ll give thee.
_Bos._ Do.
_Ferd._ I’ll give thee a pardon 305
For this murder.
_Bos._ Ha!
_Ferd._ Yes, and ’t is
The largest bounty I can study to do thee.
By what authority didst thou execute
This bloody sentence?
_Bos._ By yours.
_Ferd._ Mine! Was I her judge? 310
Did any ceremonial form of law
Doom her to not-being? Did a complete jury
Deliver her conviction up i’ th’ court?
Where shalt thou find this judgment register’d,
Unless in hell? See, like a bloody fool, 315
Thou ’st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for ’t.
_Bos._ The office of justice is perverted quite
When one thief hangs another. Who shall dare
To reveal this?
_Ferd._ O, I’ll tell thee;
The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up,
Not to devour the corpse, but to discover 321
The horrid murder.
_Bos._ You, not I, shall quake for ’t.
_Ferd._ Leave me.
_Bos._ I will first receive my pension.
_Ferd._ You are a villain.
_Bos._ When your ingratitude
Is judge, I am so.
_Ferd._ O horror, 325
That not the fear of him which binds the devils
Can prescribe man obedience!—Never
look upon me more.
_Bos._ Why, fare thee well.
Your brother and yourself are worthy men!
You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves, 330
Rotten, and rotting others; and your vengeance,
Like two chain’d-bullets, still goes arm in arm:
You may be brothers; for treason, like the plague,
Doth take much in a blood. I stand like one
That long hath ta’en a sweet and golden dream: 335
I am angry with myself now, that I wake.
_Ferd._ Get thee into some unknown part o’ the world,
That I may never see thee.
_Bos._ Let me know
Wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir,
I serv’d your tyranny, and rather strove 340
To satisfy yourself than all the world:
And though I loath’d the evil, yet I lov’d
You that did counsel it; and rather sought
To appear a true servant than an honest man.
_Ferd._ I’ll go hunt the badger by owl-light. 345
’T is a deed of darkness. _Exit._
_Bos._ He’s much distracted. Off, my painted honour!
While with vain hopes our faculties we tire,
We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire.
What would I do, were this to do again? 350
I would not change my peace of conscience
For all the wealth of Europe.—She stirs; here’s life:—
Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine
Out of this sensible hell!—she ’s warm, she breathes:—
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart, 355
To store them with fresh colour.—Who’s there?
Some cordial drink!—Alas! I dare not call:
So pity would destroy pity.—Her eye opes,
And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut,
To take me up to mercy. 360
_Duch._ Antonio!
_Bos._ Yes, madam, he is living;
The dead bodies you saw were but feign’d statues.
He’s reconcil’d to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought
The atonement.
_Duch._ Mercy! _Dies._
_Bos._ O, she’s gone again! there the cords of life broke. 365
O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps
On turtles’ feathers, whilst a guilty conscience
Is a black register wherein is writ
All our good deeds and bad, a perspective
That shows us hell! That we cannot be suffer’d
To do good when we have a mind to it! 371
This is manly sorrow;
These tears, I am very certain, never grew
In my mother’s milk. My estate is sunk
Below the degree of fear: where were 375
These penitent fountains while she was living?
O, they were frozen up! Here is a sight
As direful to my soul as is the sword
Unto a wretch hath slain his father.
Come, I ’ll bear thee hence, 380
And execute thy last will; that’s deliver
Thy body to the reverend dispose
Of some good women: that the cruel tyrant
Shall not deny me. Then I ’ll post to Milan,
Where somewhat I will speedily enact 385
Worth my dejection. _Exit_ [_with the body_].
ACT V
SCENE I.[3766]
[_Enter_] ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.
_Ant._ What think you of my hope of reconcilement
To the Arragonian brethren?
_Delio._ I misdoubt it;
For though they have sent their letters of safe-conduct
For your repair to Milan, they appear
But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara, 5
Under whom you hold certain land in cheat,[3767]
Much ’gainst his noble nature hath been mov’d
To seize those lands; and some of his dependants
Are at this instant making it their suit
To be invested in your revenues. 10
I cannot think they mean well to your life
That do deprive you of your means of life,
Your living.
_Ant._ You are still an heretic[3768]
To any safety I can shape myself.
_Delio._ Here comes the marquis: I will make myself 15
Petitioner for some part of your land,
To know whither it is flying.
_Ant._ I pray, do. [_Withdraws._]
[_Enter_ PESCARA.]
_Delio._ Sir, I have a suit to you.
_Pes._ To me?
_Delio._ An easy one:
There is the Citadel of Saint Bennet,
With some demesnes, of late in the possession
Of Antonio Bologna,—please you bestow them on me. 21
_Pes._ You are my friend; but this is such a suit,
Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take.
_Delio._ No, sir?
_Pes._ I will give you ample reason for ’t
Soon in private:—here’s the cardinal’s mistress. 25
[_Enter_ JULIA.]
_Julia._ My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner,
And should be an ill beggar, had I not
A great man’s letter here, the cardinal’s.
To court you in my favour. [_Gives a letter._]
_Pes._ He entreats for you
The Citadel of Saint Bennet, that belong’d 30
To the banish’d Bologna.
_Julia._ Yes.
_Pes._ I could not have thought of a friend I could rather
Pleasure with it: ’t is yours.
_Julia._ Sir, I thank you;
And he shall know how doubly I am engag’d
Both in your gift, and speediness of giving, 35
Which makes your grant the greater. _Exit._
_Ant._ How they fortify
Themselves with my ruin!
_Delio._ Sir, I am
Little bound to you.
_Pes._ Why?
_Delio._ Because you deni’d this suit to me, and gave ’t
To such a creature.
_Pes._ Do you know what it was?
It was Antonio’s land; not forfeited 41
By course of law, but ravish’d from his throat
By the cardinal’s entreaty. It were not fit
I should bestow so main a piece of wrong
Upon my friend; ’t is a gratification 45
Only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice.
Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocents
To make those followers I call my friends
Look ruddier upon me? I am glad
This land, ta’en from the owner by such wrong,
Returns again unto so foul an use 51
As salary for his lust. Learn, good Delio,
To ask noble things of me, and you shall find
I ’ll be a noble giver.
_Delio._ You instruct me well.
_Ant._ [_Aside._] Why, here ’s a man now would fright impudence 55
From sauciest beggars.
_Pes._ Prince Ferdinand’s come to Milan,
Sick, as they give out, of an apoplexy;
But some say ’t is a frenzy: I am going
To visit him. _Exit._
_Ant._ ’T is a noble old fellow.
_Delio._ What course do you mean to take, Antonio? 60
_Ant._ This night I mean to venture all my fortune,
Which is no more than a poor ling’ring life,
To the cardinal’s worst of malice. I have got
Private access to his chamber; and intend
To visit him about the mid of night, 65
As once his brother did our noble duchess.
It may be that the sudden apprehension
Of danger,—for I ’ll go in mine own shape,—
When he shall see it fraight[3769] with love and duty,
May draw the poison out of him, and work 70
A friendly reconcilement. If it fail,
Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling;
For better fall once than be ever falling.
_Delio._ I ’ll second you in all danger; and, howe’er,
My life keeps rank with yours. 75
_Ant._ You are still my lov’d and best friend. _Exeunt._
[SCENE II.][3770]
[_Enter_] PESCARA _and_ DOCTOR.
_Pes._ Now, doctor, may I visit your patient?
_Doc._ If ’t please your lordship; but he’s instantly
To take the air here in the gallery
By my direction.
_Pes._ Pray thee, what’s his disease?
_Doc._ A very pestilent disease, my lord, 5
They call lycanthropia.
_Pes._ What ’s that?
I need a dictionary to ’t.
_Doc._ I ’ll tell you.
In those that are possess’d with ’t there o’erflows
Such melancholy humour they imagine
Themselves to be transformed into wolves; 10
Steal forth to church-yards in the dead of night,
And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since
One met the duke ’bout midnight in a lane
Behind Saint Mark’s church, with the leg of a man
Upon his shoulder; and he howl’d fearfully; 15
Said he was a wolf, only the difference
Was, a wolf’s skin was hairy on the outside,
His on the inside; bade them take their swords,
Rip up his flesh, and try. Straight I was sent for.
And, having minister’d to him, found his grace
Very well recovered. 21
_Pes._ I am glad on ’t.
_Doc._ Yet not without some fear
Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again,
I ’ll go a nearer way to work with him
Than ever Paracelsus dream’d of; if 25
They ’ll give me leave, I ’ll buffet his madness out of him.
Stand aside; he comes.
[_Enter_ FERDINAND, CARDINAL, MALATESTI, _and_ BOSOLA.]
_Ferd._ Leave me.
_Mal._ Why doth your lordship love this solitariness?
_Ferd._ Eagles commonly fly alone: they are (30) crows, daws, and
starlings that flock together. Look, what ’s that follows me?
_Mal._ Nothing, my lord.
_Ferd._ Yes.
_Mal._ ’T is your shadow. 35
_Ferd._ Stay it; let it not haunt me.
_Mal._ Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine.
_Ferd._ I will throttle it. [_Throws himself down on his shadow._]
_Mal._ O. my lord, you are angry with nothing.
_Ferd._ You are a fool: how is ’t possible I (40) should catch my
shadow, unless I fall upon ’t? When I go to hell, I mean to carry
a bribe; for, look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst
persons.
_Pes._ Rise, good my lord. 45
_Ferd._ I am studying the art of patience.
_Pes._ ’T is a noble Virtue.
_Ferd._ To drive six snails before me from this town to Moscow;
neither use goad nor whip to them, but let them take their own
time;—the (50) patient’st man i’ th’ world match me for an
experiment:—an I ’ll crawl after like a sheep-biter.[3771]
_Card._ Force him up. [_They raise him._]
_Ferd._ Use me well, you were best. What I (55) have done, I have
done: I ’ll confess nothing.
_Doc._ Now let me come to him.—Are you mad, my lord? Are you out of
your princely wits?
_Ferd._ What ’s he?
_Pes._ Your doctor.
_Ferd._ Let me have his beard saw’d off, and his eye-brows fil’d more
civil. 60
_Doc._ I must do mad tricks with him, for that ’s the only way on
’t.—I have brought your grace a salamander’s skin to keep you from
sun-burning.
_Ferd._ I have cruel sore eyes. 65
_Doc._ The white of a cockatrix’s[3772] egg is present remedy.
_Ferd._ Let it be a new-laid one, you were best. Hide me from him:
physicians are like kings,— They brook no contradiction. 70
_Doc._ Now he begins to fear me: now let me alone with him.
_Card._ How now! put off your gown!
_Doc._ Let me have some forty urinals filled with rose-water: he and
I ’ll go pelt one (75) another with them.—Now he begins to fear
me.—Can you fetch a frisk,[3773] sir? Let him go, let him go, upon
my peril: I find by his eye he stands in awe of me; I ’ll make him
as tame as a dormouse. 80
_Ferd._ Can you fetch your frisks, sir!—I will stamp him
into a cullis,[3774] flay off his skin to cover one of the
anatomies[3775] this rogue hath set i’ th’ cold yonder in
Barber-Chirurgeon’s-hall.—Hence, hence! you are all of you like 85
beasts for sacrifice. [_Throws the_ DOCTOR _down and beats him._]
There ’s nothing left of you but tongue and belly, flattery and
lechery. [_Exit._]
_Pes._ Doctor, he did not fear you thoroughly.
_Doc._ True; I was somewhat too forward. 90
_Bos._ Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgment
Hath fall’n upon this Ferdinand!
_Pes._ Knows your grace
What accident hath brought unto the prince
This strange distraction?
_Card._ [_Aside._] I must feign somewhat.—Thus they say it grew. 95
You have heard it rumour’d, for these many years
None of our family dies but there is seen
The shape of an old woman, which is given
By tradition to us to have been murder’d 99
By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure
One night, as the prince sat up late at ’s book,
Appear’d to him; when crying out for help,
The gentleman of ’s chamber found his grace
All on a cold sweat, alter’d much in face
And language: since which apparition, 105
He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear
He cannot live.
_Bos._ Sir, I would speak with you.
_Pes._ We ’ll leave your grace,
Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord,
All health of mind and body.
_Card._ You are most welcome.
[_Exeunt_ PESCARA, MALATESTI, _and_ DOCTOR.]
Are you come? so.—[_Aside._] This fellow must not know 111
By any means I had intelligence
In our duchess’ death; for, though I counsell’d it,
The full of all th’ engagement seem’d to grow
From Ferdinand.—Now, sir, how fares our sister? 115
I do not think but sorrow makes her look
Like to an oft-dy’d garment: she shall now
Take comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly?
O, the fortune of your master here, the prince,
Dejects you; but be you of happy comfort: 120
If you ’ll do one thing for me I ’ll entreat,
Though he had a cold tomb-stone o’er his bones,
I ’d make you what you would be.
_Bos._ Any thing;
Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to ’t.
They that think long small expedition win, 125
For musing much o’ th’ end cannot begin.
[_Enter_ JULIA.]
_Julia._ Sir, will you come in to supper?
_Card._ I am busy; leave me.
_Julia._ [_Aside._] What an excellent shape hath that fellow! _Exit._
_Card._ ’T is thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan:
Inquire him out, and kill him. While he lives,
Our sister cannot marry; and I have thought
Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me 132
Thy advancement.
_Bos._ But by what means shall I find him out?
_Card._ There is a gentleman call’d Delio 135
Here in the camp, that hath been long approv’d
His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow;
Follow him to mass; may be Antonio,
Although he do account religion
But a school-name, for fashion of the world 140
May accompany him; or else go inquire out
Delio’s confessor, and see if you can bribe
Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways
A man might find to trace him; as to know
What fellows haunt the Jews for taking up 145
Great sums of money, for sure he ’s in want;
Or else to go to th’ picture-makers, and learn
Who bought[3776] her picture lately: some of these
Happily may take.
_Bos._ Well, I ’ll not freeze i’ th’ business:
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio, 150
Above all sights i’ th’ world.
_Card._ Do, and be happy. _Exit._
_Bos._ This fellow doth breed basilisks in ’s eyes,
He ’s nothing else but murder; yet he seems
Not to have notice of the duchess’ death.
’T is his cunning: I must follow his example;
There cannot be a surer way to trace 156
Than that of an old fox.
[_Re-enter_ JULIA, _with a pistol_.]
_Julia._ So, sir, you are well met.
_Bos._ How now!
_Julia._ Nay; the doors are fast enough:
Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery. 160
_Bos._ Treachery!
_Julia._ Yes, confess to me
Which of my women ’t was you hir’d to put
Love-powder into my drink?
_Bos._ Love powder!
_Julia._ Yes, when I was at Malfi.
Why should I fall in love with such a face else?
I have already suffer’d for thee so much pain.
The only remedy to do me good 167
Is to kill my longing.
_Bos._ Sure, your pistol holds
Nothing but perfumes or kissing-comfits.[3777]
Excellent lady! 170
You have a pretty way on ’t to discover
Your longing. Come, come, I ’ll disarm you,
And arm you thus: yet this is wondrous strange.
_Julia._ Compare thy form and my eyes together,
You ’ll find my love no such great miracle, 175
Now you ’ll say
I am wanton: this nice modesty in ladies
Is but a troublesome familiar
That haunts them.
_Bos._ Know you me, I am a blunt soldier.
_Julia._ The better:
Sure, there wants fire where there are no lively sparks 181
Of roughness.
_Bos._ And I want compliment.
_Julia._ Why, ignorance
In courtship cannot make you do amiss,
If you have a heart to do well.
_Bos._ You are very fair.
_Julia._ Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,
I must plead unguilty.
_Bos._ Your bright eyes 186
Carry a quiver of darts in them, sharper
Than sun-beams.
_Julia._ You will mar me with commendation,
Put yourself to the charge of courting me,
Whereas now I woo you. 190
_Bos._ [_Aside._] I have it, I will work upon this creature,—
Let us grow most amorously familiar:
If the great cardinal now should see me thus,
Would he not count me a villain?
_Julia._ No; he might count me a wanton, 195
Not lay a scruple of offence on you;
For if I see and steal a diamond,
The fault is not i’ th’ stone, but in me the thief
That purloins it. I am sudden with you.
We that are great women of pleasure use to cut off 200
These uncertain wishes and unquiet longings,
And in an instant join the sweet delight
And the pretty excuse together. Had you been i’ th’ street,
Under my chamber-window, even there
I should have courted you. 205
_Bos._ O, you are an excellent lady!
_Julia._ Bid me do somewhat for you presently
To express I love you.
_Bos._ I will; and if you love me,
Fail not to effect it.
The cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy;
Demand the cause, let him not put you off 211
With feign’d excuse; discover the main ground on ’t.
_Julia._ Why would you know this?
_Bos._ I have depended on him,
And I hear that he is fall’n in some disgrace
With the emperor: if he be, like the mice 215
That forsake falling houses, I would shift
To other dependance.
_Julia._ You shall not need
Follow the wars: I ’ll be your maintenance.
_Bos._ And I your loyal servant: but I cannot
Leave my calling.
_Julia._ Not leave an ungrateful 220
General for the love of a sweet lady!
You are like some cannot sleep in feather-beds,
But must have blocks for their pillows.
_Bos._ Will you do this?
_Julia._ Cunningly.
_Bos._ To-morrow I ’ll expect th’ intelligence.
_Julia._ To-morrow! Get you into my cabinet; 226
You shall have it with you. Do not delay me,
No more than I do you: I am like one
That is condemn’d; I have my pardon promis’d,
But I would see it seal’d. Go, get you in: 230
You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart
Like a skein of silk. [_Exit_ BOSOLA.]
[_Re-enter_ CARDINAL.]
_Card._ Where are you?
[_Enter_ Servants.]
_Servants._ Here.
_Card._ Let none, upon your lives, have conference
With the Prince Ferdinand, unless I know it.—
[_Aside._] In this distraction he may reveal 235
The murder. [_Exeunt_ Servants.]
Yond ’s my lingering consumption:
I am weary of her, and by any means
Would be quit of.
_Julia._ How now, my lord! what ails you?
_Card._ Nothing.
_Julia._ O, you are much alter’d:
Come. I must be your secretary, and remove
This lead from off your bosom: what’s the matter? 241
_Card._ I may not tell you.
_Julia._ Are you so far in love with sorrow
You cannot part with part of it? Or think you
I cannot love your grace when you are sad 245
As well as merry? Or do you suspect
I, that have been a secret to your heart
These many winters, cannot be the same
Unto your tongue?
_Card._ Satisfy thy longing,—
The only way to make thee keep my counsel
Is, not to tell thee.
_Julia._ Tell your echo this, 251
Or flatterers, that like echoes still report
What they hear, though most imperfect, and not me;
For if that you be true unto yourself,
I ’ll know.
_Card._ Will you rack me?
_Julia._ No, judgment shall
Draw it from you: it is an equal fault, 256
To tell one’s secrets unto all or none.
_Card._ The first argues folly.
_Julia._ But the last tyranny.
_Card._ Very well: why, imagine I have committed 260
Some secret deed which I desire the world
May never hear of.
_Julia._ Therefore may not I know it?
You have conceal’d for me as great a sin
As adultery. Sir, never was occasion
For perfect trial of my constancy 265
Till now; sir, I beseech you——
_Card._ You ’ll repent it.
_Julia._ Never.
_Card._ It hurries thee to ruin: I ’ll not tell thee.
Be well advis’d, and think what danger ’t is
To receive a prince’s secrets. They that do, 270
Had need have their breasts hoop’d with adamant
To contain them. I pray thee, yet be satisfi’d;
Examine thine own frailty: ’t is more easy
To tie knots than unloose them. ’T is a secret
That, like a ling’ring poison, may chance lie
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence. 276
_Julia._ Now you dally with me.
_Card._ No more; thou shalt know it.
By my appointment, the great Duchess of Malfi
And two of her young children, four nights since,
Were strangled.
_Julia._ O heaven! sir, what have you done!
_Card._ How now? How settles this? Think you your bosom 281
Will be a grave dark and obscure enough
For such a secret?
_Julia._ You have undone yourself, sir.
_Card._ Why?
_Julia._ It lies not in me to conceal it.
_Card._ No?
Come, I will swear you to ’t upon this book.
_Julia._ Most religiously.
_Card._ Kiss it. [_She kisses the book._] 286
Now you shall never utter it; thy curiosity
Hath undone thee; thou ’rt poison’d with that book.
Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel,
I have bound thee to ’t by death. 290
[_Re-enter_ BOSOLA.]
_Bos._ For pity sake, hold!
_Card._ Ha, Bosola!
_Julia._ I forgive you
This equal piece of justice you have done;
For I betray’d your counsel to that fellow.
He over-heard it; that was the cause I said
It lay not in me to conceal it. 295
_Bos._ O foolish woman,
Couldst not thou have poison’d him?
_Julia._ ’T is weakness
Too much to think what should have been done. I go,
I know not whither. [_Dies._]
_Card._ Wherefore com’st thou hither?
_Bos._ That I might find a great man like yourself, 300
Not out of his wits, as the Lord Ferdinand,
To remember my service.
_Card._ I ’ll have thee hew’d in pieces.
_Bos._ Make not yourself such a promise of that life
Which is not yours to dispose of.
_Card._ Who plac’d thee here?
_Bos._ Her lust, as she intended.
_Card._ Very well: 306
Now you know me for your fellow-murderer.
_Bos._ And wherefore should you lay fair marble colours
Upon your rotten purposes to me?
Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons, 310
And when they have done, go hide themselves i’ th’ graves
Of those were actors in ’t?
_Card._ No more; there is
A fortune attends thee.
_Bos._ Shall I go sue to Fortune any longer?
’T is the fool’s pilgrimage. 315
_Card._ I have honours in store for thee.
_Bos._ There are a many ways that conduct to seeming
Honour, and some of them very dirty ones.
_Card._ Throw to the devil
Thy melancholy. The fire burns well; 320
What need we keep a stirring of ’t, and make
A greater smother?[3778] Thou wilt kill Antonio?
_Bos._ Yes.
_Card._ Take up that body.
_Bos._ I think I shall
Shortly grow the common bier for church-yards.
_Card._ I will allow thee some dozen of attendants 325
To aid thee in the murder.
_Bos._ O, by no means. Physicians that apply horse-leeches to any
rank swelling use to cut off their tails, that the blood may run
through them the faster: let me have no train when I go (330) to shed
blood, less it make me have a greater when I ride to the gallows.
_Card._ Come to me after midnight, to help to remove
That body to her own lodging. I ’ll give out
She died o’ th’ plague; ’t will breed the less inquiry 335
After her death.
_Bos._ Where ’s Castruccio her husband?
_Card._ He ’s rode to Naples, to take possession
Of Antonio’s citadel.
_Bos._ Believe me, you have done a very happy turn. 340
_Card._ Fail not to come. There is the masterkey
Of our lodgings; and by that you may conceive
What trust I plant in you.
_Bos._ You shall find me ready.
_Exit_ CARDINAL.
O poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful
To thy estate as pity, yet I find 345
Nothing so dangerous! I must look to my footing:
In such slippery ice-pavements men had need
To be frost-nail’d well, they may break their necks else;
The precedent ’s here afore me. How this man
Bears up in blood! seems fearless! Why, ’t is well: 350
Security some men call the suburbs of hell,
Only a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio,
I ’ll seek thee out; and all my care shall be
To put thee into safety from the reach
Of these most cruel biters that have got 355
Some of thy blood already. It may be,
I ’ll join with thee in a most just revenge.
The weakest arm is strong enough that strikes
With the sword of justice. Still methinks the duchess
Haunts me: there, there!—’T is nothing but my melancholy. 360
O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup,
That throws men down only to raise them up! _Exit._
SCENE III.[3779]
[_Enter_] ANTONIO _and_ DELIO. ECHO (_from the_ DUCHESS’S _Grave_).
_Delio._ Yond ’s the cardinal’s window. This fortification
Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey;
And to yond side o’ th’ river lies a wall,
Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion
Gives the best echo that you ever heard, 5
So hollow and so dismal, and withal
So plain in the distinction of our words,
That many have suppos’d it is a spirit
That answers.
_Ant._ I do love these ancient ruins.
We never tread upon them but we set 10
Our foot upon some reverend history;
And, questionless, here in this open court,
Which now lies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather, some men lie interr’d
Lov’d the church so well, and gave so largely to ’t, 15
They thought it should have canopied their bones
Till dooms-day. But all things have their end;
Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men,
Must have like death that we have.
_Echo._ _Like death that we have._
_Delio._ Now the echo hath caught you. 20
_Ant._ It groan’d methought, and gave
A very deadly accent.
_Echo._ _Deadly accent._
_Delio._ I told you ’t was a pretty one. You may make it
A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician,
Or a thing of sorrow.
_Echo._ _A thing of sorrow._ 25
_Ant._ Ay, sure, that suits it best.
_Echo._ _That suits it best._
_Ant._ ’T is very like my wife’s voice.
_Echo._ _Ay, wife’s voice._
_Delio._ Come, let us walk further from ’t.
I would not have you go to the cardinal’s to-night:
Do not. 30
_Echo. Do not._
_Delio._ Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow
Than time. Take time for ’t; be mindful of thy safety.
_Echo. Be mindful of thy safety._
_Ant._ Necessity compels me. 35
Make scrutiny throughout the passages
Of your own life, you ’ll find it impossible
To fly your fate.
_Echo._ _O, fly your fate!_
_Delio._ Hark! the dead stones seem to have pity on you,
And give you good counsel. 40
_Ant._ Echo, I will not talk with thee,
For thou art a dead thing.
_Echo._ _Thou art a dead thing._
_Ant._ My duchess is asleep now,
And her little ones, I hope sweetly. O heaven,
Shall I never see her more?
_Echo._ _Never see her more._ 45
_Ant._ I mark’d not one repetition of the echo
But that: and on the sudden a clear light
Presented me a face folded in sorrow.
_Delio._ Your fancy merely.
_Ant._ Come, I ’ll be out of this ague.
For to live thus is not indeed to live: 50
It is a mockery and abuse of life.
I will not henceforth save myself by halves;
Lose all, or nothing.
_Delio._ Your own virtue save you!
I ’ll fetch your eldest son, and second you.
It may be that the sight of his own blood 55
Spread in so sweet a figure may beget
The more compassion. However, fare you well.
Though in our miseries Fortune have a part,
Yet in our noble suff’rings she hath none.
Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. _Exeunt._ 60
SCENE IV.[3780]
[_Enter_] CARDINAL, PESCARA, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.
_Card._ You shall not watch to-night by the sick prince;
His grace is very well recover’d.
_Mal._ Good my lord, suffer us.
_Card._ O, by no means;
The noise, and change of object in his eye,
Doth more distract him. I pray, all to bed; 5
And though you hear him in his violent fit,
Do not rise, I entreat you.
_Pes._ So, sir; we shall not.
_Card._ Nay, I must have you promise
Upon your honours, for I was enjoin’d to ’t
By himself; and he seem’d to urge it sensibly.
_Pes._ Let our honours bind this trifle. 11
_Card._ Nor any of your followers.
_Mal._ Neither.
_Card._ It may be, to make trial of your promise,
When he ’s asleep, myself will rise and feign 15
Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help,
And feign myself in danger.
_Mal._ If your throat were cutting,
I ’d not come at you, now I have protested against it.
_Card._ Why, I thank you.
_Gris._ ’T was a foul storm to-night. 20
_Rod._ The Lord Ferdinand’s chamber shook like an osier.
_Mal._ ’T was nothing but pure kindness in the devil
To rock his own child. _Exeunt_ [_all except the_ CARDINAL].
_Card._ The reason why I would not suffer these
About my brother, is, because at midnight 25
I may with better privacy convey
Julia’s body to her own lodging. O, my conscience!
I would pray now; but the devil takes away my heart
For having any confidence in prayer.
About this hour I appointed Bosola 30
To fetch the body. When he hath serv’d my turn,
He dies. _Exit._
_Enter_ [BOSOLA].
_Bos._ Ha! ’t was the cardinal’s voice; I heard him name Bosola and
my death. Listen; I hear one’s footing. 35
[_Enter_ FERDINAND.]
_Ferd._ Strangling is a very quiet death.
_Bos._ [_Aside._] Nay, then, I see I must stand upon my guard.
_Ferd._ What say to that? Whisper softly: do you agree to ’t? So; it
must be done i’ th’ dark; the cardinal would not for a thousand 40
pounds the doctor should see it. _Exit._
_Bos._ My death is plotted; here ’s the consequence of murder.
We value not desert nor Christian breath,
When we know black deeds must be cur’d with death.
[_Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ Servant.]
_Serv._ Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray;
I ’ll fetch you a dark lantern. _Exit._ 46
_Ant._ Could I take him at his prayers,
There were hope of pardon.
_Bos._ Fall right, my sword!— [_Stabs him._]
I ’ll not give thee so much leisure as to pray. 50
_Ant._ O. I am gone! Thou has ended a long suit
In a minute.
_Bos._ What art thou?
_Ant._ A most wretched thing,
That only have thy benefit in death,
To appear myself.
[_Re-enter_ Servant _with a lantern_.]
_Serv._ Where are you, sir? 55
_Ant._ Very near my home.—Bosola!
_Serv._ O, misfortune!
_Bos._ Smother thy pity, thou art dead else.—Antonio!
The man I would have sav’d ’bove mine own life!
We are merely the stars’ tennis-balls, struck and banded[3781] 60
Which way please them.—O good Antonio,
I ’ll whisper one thing in thy dying ear
Shall make thy heart break quickly! Thy fair duchess
And two sweet children——
_Ant._ Their very names
Kindle a little life in me.
_Bos._ Are murder’d. 65
_Ant._ Some men have wish’d to die
At the hearing of sad tidings; I am glad
That I shall do ’t in sadness.[3782] I would not now
Wish my wounds balm’d nor heal’d, for I have no use 69
To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness,
Like wanton boys whose pastime is their care,
We follow after bubbles blown in th’ air.
Pleasure of life, what is ’t? Only the good hours
Of an ague; merely a preparative to rest,
To endure vexation. I do not ask 75
The process of my death; only commend me
To Delio.
_Bos._ Break, heart!
_Ant._ And let my son fly the courts of princes. [_Dies._]
_Bos._ Thou seem’st to have lov’d Antonio.
_Serv._ I brought him hither, 80
To have reconcil’d him to the cardinal.
_Bos._ I do not ask thee that.
Take him up, if thou tender thine own life,
And bear him where the lady Julia
Was wont to lodge.—O, my fate moves swift!
I have this cardinal in the forge already; 86
Now I ’ll bring him to th’ hammer. O direful misprision![3783]
I will not imitate things glorious,
No more than base; I ’ll be mine own example.—
On, on, and look thou represent, for silence, 90
The thing thou bear’st.[3784] _Exeunt._
SCENE V.[3785]
[_Enter_] CARDINAL, _with a book_.
_Card._ I am puzzl’d in a question about hell;
He says, in hell there ’s one material fire,
And yet it shall not burn all men alike.
Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience!
When I look into the fish-ponds in my garden, 5
Methinks I see a thing arm’d with a rake,
That seems to strike at me.
[_Enter_ BOSOLA, _and_ Servant _bearing_ ANTONIO’S _body_.]
Now, art thou come?
Thou look’st ghastly;
There sits in thy face some great determination
Mix’d with some fear.
_Bos._ Thus it lightens into action: 10
I am come to kill thee.
_Card._ Ha!—Help! our guard!
_Bos._ Thou art deceiv’d; they are out of thy howling.
_Card._ Hold; and I will faithfully divide
Revenues with thee.
_Bos._ Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.
_Card._ Raise the watch! 15
We are betray’d!
_Bos._ I have confin’d your flight:
I ’ll suffer your retreat to Julia’s chamber,
But no further.
_Card._ Help! we are betray’d!
[_Enter_, _above_, PESCARA, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.]
_Mal._ Listen.
_Card._ My dukedom for rescue! 20
_Rod._ Fie upon his counterfeiting!
_Mal._ Why, ’t is not the cardinal.
_Rod._ Yes, yes, ’t is he:
But, I ’ll see him hang’d ere I ’ll go down to him.
_Card._ Here ’s a plot upon me; I am assaulted! I am lost, 25
Unless some rescue!
_Gris._ He doth this pretty well;
But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour.
_Card._ The sword ’s at my throat!
_Rod._ You would not bawl so loud then.
_Mal._ Come, come, let’s go to bed: he told us this much aforehand. 30
_Pes._ He wish’d you should not come at him; but, believe ’t,
The accent of the voice sounds not in jest.
I ’ll down to him, howsoever, and with engines
Force ope the doors. [_Exit above._]
_Rod._ Let ’s follow him aloof,
And note how the cardinal will laugh at him.
[_Exeunt_, _above_, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.]
_Bos._ There ’s for you first, 36
’Cause you shall not unbarricade the door
To let in rescue. _Kills the_ Servant.
_Card._ What cause hast thou to pursue my life?
_Bos._ Look there.
_Card._ Antonio!
_Bos._ Slain by my hand unwittingly.
Pray, and be sudden. When thou kill’d’st thy sister, 40
Thou took’st from Justice her most equal balance,
And left her naught but her sword.
_Card._ O, mercy!
_Bos._ Now it seems thy greatness was only outward;
For thou fall’st faster of thyself than calamity
Can drive thee. I ’ll not waste longer time; there! [_Stabs him._]
_Card._ Thou hast hurt me.
_Bos._ Again!
_Card._ Shall I die like a leveret, 46
Without any resistance?—Help, help, help!
I am slain!
[_Enter_ FERDINAND.]
_Ferd._ Th’ alarum! Give me a fresh horse;
Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost.
Yield, yield! I give you the honour of arms 50
Shake my sword over you; will you yield?
_Card._ Help me; I am your brother!
_Ferd._ The devil!
My brother fight upon the adverse party!
_He wounds the_ CARDINAL, _and, in the scuffle_, _gives_ BOSOLA _his
death-wound_.
There flies your ransom.
_Card._ O justice! 55
I suffer now for what hath former bin:
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
_Ferd._ Now you ’re brave fellows. Caesar’s fortune was harder than
Pompey’s; Caesar died in the arms of prosperity, Pompey at the 60
feet of disgrace. You both died in the field. The pain ’s nothing;
pain many times is taken away with the apprehension of greater, as
the tooth-ache with the sight of a barber that comes to pull it out.
There’s philosophy for you. 65
_Bos._ Now my revenge is perfect.—Sink, thou main cause
_Kills_ FERDINAND.
Of my undoing!—The last part of my life
Hath done me best service.
_Ferd._ Give me some wet hay; I am broken-winded.
I do account this world but a dog-kennel: 70
I will vault credit and affect high pleasures
Beyond death.
_Bos._ He seems to come to himself,
Now he’s so near the bottom.
_Ferd._ My sister, O my sister! there ’s the cause on ’t.
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, 75
Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust. [_Dies._]
_Card._ Thou hast thy payment too.
_Bos._ Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth;
’T is ready to part from me. I do glory 79
That thou, which stood’st like a huge pyramid
Begun upon a large and ample base,
Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.
[_Enter_, _below_, PESCARA, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.]
_Pes._ How now, my lord!
_Mal._ O sad disaster!
_Rod._ How comes this?
_Bos._ Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murdered
By th’ Arragonian brethren; for Antonio 85
Slain by this hand; for lustful Julia
Poison’d by this man; and lastly for myself,
That was an actor in the main of all
Much ’gainst mine own good nature, yet i’ th’ end
Neglected.
_Pes._ How now, my lord!
_Card._ Look to my brother:
He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling 91
Here i’ th’ rushes. And now, I pray, let me
Be laid by and never thought of. [_Dies._]
_Pes._ How fatally, it seems, he did withstand
His own rescue!
_Mal._ Thou wretched thing of blood, 95
How came Antonio by his death?
_Bos._ In a mist; I know not how;
Such a mistake as I have often seen
In a play. O, I am gone! 99
We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves,
That, ruin’d, yields no echo. Fare you well!
It may be pain, but no harm, to me to die
In so good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world!
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,
Doth womanish and fearful mankind live! 105
Let worthy minds ne’er stagger in distrust
To suffer death or shame for what is just:
Mine is another voyage. [_Dies._]
_Pes._ The noble Delio, as I came to th’ palace,
Told me of Antonio’s being here, and show’d me 110
A pretty gentleman, his son and heir.
[_Enter_ DELIO, _and_ ANTONIO’S Son.]
_Mal._ O sir, you come too late!
_Delio._ I heard so, and
Was arm’d for ’t, ere I came. Let us make noble use
Of this great ruin; and join all our force
To establish this young hopeful gentleman 115
In ’s mother’s right. These wretched eminent things
Leave no more fame behind ’em, than should one
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow;
As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts.
Both form and matter. I have ever thought 120
Nature doth nothing so great for great men
As when she’s pleas’d to make them lords of truth:
Integrity of life is fame’s best friend.
Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end. _Exeunt._
A TRICK TO CATCH THE OLD ONE
BY THOMAS MIDDLETON
[DRAMATIS PERSONAE
THEODORUS WITGOOD.
PECUNIUS LUCRE, his uncle.
WALKADINE HOARD.
ONESIPHORUS HOARD, his brother.
LIMBER, }
KIX, }
LAMPREY, } friends of Hoard.
SPICHCOCK, }
HARRY DAMPIT, }
GULF, } usurers.
SAM FREEDOM, son of Mistress Lucre.
MONEYLOVE.
Host.
SIR LAUNCELOT.
Creditors.
Gentlemen.
GEORGE.
ARTHUR.
Drawer.
Boy.
Scrivener.
Servants, &c.
Courtesan.
MISTRESS LUCRE.
JOYCE, niece to Hoard.
LADY FOXTONE.
AUDREY, servant to Dampit.
SCENE.—_A country town; then London._]
[ACT I
SCENE I.][3786]
_Enter_ WITGOOD, _a gentleman_, _solus_.
_Wit._ All ’s gone! still thou ’rt a gentleman, that ’s all; but a
poor one, that ’s nothing. What milk brings thy meadows forth now?
Where are thy goodly uplands, and thy down-lands? All sunk into that
little pit, lechery, (5) Why should a gallant pay but two shillings
for his ordinary that nourishes him, and twenty times two for his
brothel that consumes him? But where ’s Longacre?[3787] In my uncle’s
conscience, which is three years’ voyage about: (10) he that sets
out upon his conscience ne’er finds the way home again; he is either
swallowed in the quicksands of law-quillets, or splits upon the piles
of a _praemunire_;[3788] yet these old fox-brain’d and ox-brow’d
uncles have still defences (15) for their avarice, and apologies for
their practices, and will thus greet our follies:
He that doth his youth expose
To brothel, drink, and danger,
Let him that is his nearest kin 20
Cheat him before a stranger:
and that ’s his uncle; ’t is a principle in usury. I dare not visit
the city: there I should be too soon visited by that horrible plague,
my debts; and by that means I lose a virgin’s love, her (25) portion,
and her virtues. Well, how should a man live now that has no living?
Hum,—why, are there not a million of men in the world that only
sojourn upon their brain, and make their wits their mercers; and am
I but one amongst that million, and cannot thrive upon ’t? Any 31
trick, out of the compass of law, now would come happily to me.
_Enter_ Courtesan.
_Cour._ My love!
_Wit._ My loathing! has thou been the secret (35) consumption of my
purse, and now com’st to undo my last means, my wits? Wilt leave
no virtue in me, and yet thou ne’er the better?
Hence, courtesan, round-webb’d tarantula,
That dry’st the roses in the cheeks of youth! 40
_Cour._ I ’ve been true unto your pleasure; and all your lands
Thrice rackt[3789] was never worth the jewel which
I prodigally gave you, my virginity.
Lands mortgag’d may return, and more esteem’d,
But honesty[3790] once pawn’d, is ne’er redeem’d. 45
_Wit._ Forgive; I do thee wrong
To make thee sin, and then to chide thee for ’t.
_Cour._ I know I am your loathing now; farewell.
_Wit._ Stay, best invention, stay.
_Cour._ I that “have been the secret consumption (50) of your
purse,” shall I stay now “to undo your last means, your wits? Hence,
courtesan,” away!
_Wit._ I prithee, make me not mad at my own weapon: stay (a thing few
women can do, I (55) know that, and therefore they had need wear
stays), be not contrary. Dost love me? Fate has so cast[3791] it that
all my means I must derive from thee.
_Cour._ From me? be happy then; 60
What lies within the power of my performance
Shall be commanded of thee.
_Wit._ Spoke like
An honest drab, i’ faith. It may prove something;
What trick is not an embryon at first,
Until a perfect shape come over it? 65
_Cour._ Come, I must help you: whereabouts left you?
I ’ll proceed:
Though you beget, ’t is I must help to breed.
Speak, what is ’t? I ’d fain conceive it.
_Wit._ So, so, so: thou shalt presently take (70) the name and form
upon thee of a rich country widow, four hundred a-year valiant,[3792]
in woods, in bullocks, in barns, and in rye-stacks. We ’ll to London,
and to my covetous uncle.
_Cour._ I begin to applaud thee; our states (75) being both desperate,
they are soon resolute. But how for horses?
_Wit._ Mass, that ’s true; the jest will be of some continuance. Let
me see; horses now, a bots[3793] on ’em! Stay, I have acquaintance
with (80) a mad host, never yet bawd to thee. I have rins’d the
whoreson’s gums in mull-sack[3794] many a time and often. Put but
a good tale into his ear now, so it come off cleanly, and there ’s
horse and man for us, I dare warrant thee. 85
_Cour._ Arm your wits then
Speedily; there shall want nothing in me,
Either in behaviour, discourse, or fashion,
That shall discredit your intended purpose.
I will so artfully disguise my wants, 90
And set so good a courage on my state,
That I will be believed.
_Wit._ Why, then, all ’s furnisht. I shall go nigh to catch that old
fox, mine uncle. Though he make but some amends for my undoing, (95)
yet there ’s some comfort in ’t, he cannot otherwise choose (though
it be but in hope to cozen[3795] me again) but supply any hasty want
that I bring to town with me. The device well and cunningly carried,
the name of a rich (100) widow, and four hundred a-year in good
earth, will so conjure up a kind of usurer’s love in him to me, that
he will not only desire my presence,—which at first shall scarce be
granted him, I ’ll keep off a’ purpose,—but I shall find (105) him
so officious to deserve, so ready to supply! I know the state of an
old man’s affection so well: if his nephew be poor indeed, why, he
let’s God alone with him; but if he be once rich, then he ’ll be the
first man that helps him. 110
_Cour._ ’T is right the world;[3796] for, in these days, an old man’s
love to his kindred is like his kindness to his wife, ’t is always
done before he comes at it. 114
_Wit._ I owe thee for that jest. Begone: here ’s all my wealth;
prepare thyself, away. I ’ll to mine host with all possible haste;
and with the best art, and most profitable form, pour the sweet
circumstance into his ear, (119) which shall have the gift to turn
all the wax to honey. [_Exit Courtesan._]—How now? O, the right
worshipful signors of our country!
[_Enter_ ONESIPHORUS HOARD, LIMBER, _and_ KIX.]
[_O. Hoa._][3797] Who ’s that?
[_Lim._] O, the common rioter; take no note of him. 125
_Wit._ [_Aside._] You will not see me now; the comfort is,
Ere it be long you will scarce see yourselves. [_Exit._]
[_O. Hoa._] I wonder how he breathes; h ’as consum’d all
Upon that courtesan.
[_Lim._] We have heard so much.
[_O. Hoa._] You ’ve heard all truth. His uncle and my brother 130
Have been these three years mortal adversaries:
Two old tough spirits, they seldom meet but fight,
Or quarrel when ’t is calmest:
I think their anger be the very fire 134
That keeps their age alive.
[_Lim._] What was the quarrel, sir?
[_O. Hoa._] Faith, about a purchase, fetching over a young heir.
Master Hoard, my brother, having wasted much time in beating the
bargain, what did rue old Lucre, but as his conscience (139) mov’d
him, knowing the poor gentleman, stept in between ’em and cozened him
himself.
[_Lim._] And was this all, sir?
[_O. Hoa._] This was e’en it, sir; yet for (144) all this, I know no
reason but the match might go forward betwixt his wife’s son and my
niece; what though there be a dissension between the two old men, I
see no reason it should put a difference between the two younger; ’t
is as (149) natural for old folks to fall out, as for young to fall
in. A scholar comes a-wooing to my niece; well, he’s wise, but he’s
poor: her son comes a-wooing to my niece; well, he ’s a fool, but he
’s rich.
[_Lim._] Ay, marry, sir. 155
[_O. Hoa._] Pray, now, is not a rich fool better than a poor
philosopher?
[_Lim._] One would think so, i’ faith.
[_O. Hoa._] She now remains at London (159) with my brother, her
second uncle, to learn fashions, practise music; the voice between
her lips, and the viol between her legs, she ’ll be fit for a
consort[3798] very speedily: a thousand good pound is her portion; if
she marry, we ’ll ride up and be merry. 165
[_Kix._] A match, if it be a match. _Exeunt._
[SCENE II.][3799]
_Enter at one door_, WITGOOD, _at the other_, Host.
_Wit._ Mine host!
_Host._ Young Master Witgood.
_Wit._ I have been laying[3800] all the town for thee.
_Host._ Why, what ’s the news, bully (5) Hadland?
_Wit._ What geldings are in the house, of thine own? Answer me to
that first.
_Host._ Why, man, why? 9
_Wit._ Mark me what I say: I ’ll tell thee such a tale in thine ear,
that thou shalt trust me spite of thy teeth, furnish me with some
money willy nilly, and ride up with me thyself _contra vuluntatem et
professionem_.[3801] 14
_Host._ How? Let me see this trick, and I ’ll say thou hast more art
than a conjuror.
_Wit._ Dost thou joy in my advancement?
_Host._ Do I love sack and ginger?
_Wit._ Comes my prosperity desiredly to thee? 20
_Host._ Come forfeitures to a usurer, fees to an officer, punks to an
host, and pigs to a parson desiredly? Why, then, la.
_Wit._ Will the report of a widow of four hundred a-year, boy, make
thee leap, and sing, and dance, and come to thy place again? 26
_Host._ Wilt thou command me now? I am thy spirit; conjure me into
any shape.
_Wit._ I ha’ brought her from her friends, (29) turn’d back the
horses by a slight; not so much as one among her six men, goodly
large yeomanly fellows, will she trust with this her purpose: by
this light, all unmann’d,[3802] regardless of her state, neglectful
of vain-glorious ceremony, all for my love. O, ’t is a fine little
voluble tongue, mine host, that wins a widow! 36
_Host._ No, ’t is a tongue with a great T, my boy, that wins a widow.
_Wit._ Now, sir, the case stands thus: good mine host, if thou lovest
my happiness, assist me. 41
_Host._ Command all my beasts i’ th’ house.
_Wit._ Nay, that ’s not all neither: prithee take truce with thy
joy, and listen to me. (44) Thou know’st I have a wealthy uncle i’
th’ city, somewhat the wealthier by my follies. The report of this
fortune, well and cunningly carried, might be a means to draw some
goodness from the usuring rascal; for I have put her in hope 49
already of some estate that I have either in land or money. Now, if
I be found true in neither, what may I expect but a sudden breach
of our love, utter dissolution of the match, and confusion of my
fortunes for ever? 54
_Host._ Wilt thou but trust the managing of thy business with me?
_Wit._ With thee? Why, will I desire to thrive in my purpose? Will I
hug four hundred a-year, I that know the misery of nothing? Will that
man wish a rich widow, that has ne’er a (60) hole to put his head in?
With thee, mine host? Why, believe it, sooner with thee than with a
covey of counsellors.
_Host._ Thank you for your good report, i’ faith, sir; and if I stand
you not in stead, (65) why then let an host, come off _hic et haec
hostis_, a deadly enemy to dice, drink, and venery. Come, where ’s
this widow?
_Wit._ Hard at Park-end.
_Host._ I ’ll be her serving-man for once. 70
_Wit._ Why, there we let off together, keep full time; my thoughts
were striking then just the same number.
_Host._ I knew ’t: shall we then see our merry days again? 75
_Wit._ Our merry nights—[_Aside._] which ne’er shall be more seen.
_Exeunt._
[SCENE III.][3803]
_Enter at several doors_, _old_ LUCRE _and old_ HOARD; [LAMPREY,
SPICHCOCK, FREEDOM, _and_ MONEYLOVE.] _gentlemen coming between them to
pacify them_.
_Lam._ Nay, good Master Lucre, and you, Master Hoard, anger is the
wind which you’re both too much troubled withal.
_Hoa._ Shall my adversary thus daily affront me? ripping up the old
wound of our malice, (5) which three summers could not close up? into
which wound the very sight of him drops scalding lead instead of
balsamum.
_Luc._ Why, Hoard, Hoard, Hoard, Hoard, Hoard! may I not pass in
the state of quietness (10) to mine own house? Answer me to that,
before witness, and why? I ’ll refer the cause to honest, even-minded
gentlemen, or require the mere indifferences[3804] of the law to
decide this matter. I got the purchase,[3805] true: was ’t (15) not
any man’s case? Yes. Will a wise man stand as a bawd, whilst another
wipes his nose[3806] of the bargain? No: I answer no in that case.
_Lam._ Nay, sweet Master Lucre.
_Hoa._ Was it the part of a friend—no, (20) rather of a Jew;—mark
what I say—when I had beaten the bush to the last bird, or, as I may
term it, the price to a pound, then, like a cunning usurer, to come
in the evening of the bargain, and glean all my hopes in a minute?
(25) to enter, as it were, at the back door of the purchase? for thou
ne’er camest the right way by it.
_Luc._ Hast thou the conscience to tell me so without any impeachment
to thyself? 30
_Hoa._ Thou that canst defeat thy own nephew, Lucre, lap his lands
into bonds, and take the extremity of thy kindred’s forfeitures,
because he ’s a rioter, a wastethrift, a brothel-master, and so
forth,—what may a stranger expect (35) from thee but _vulnera
dilacerata_, as the poet says, dilacerate dealing?
_Luc._ Upbraidest thou me with nephew? Is all imputation laid upon
me? What acquaintance have I with his follies? If he riot, ’t is 40
he must want it; if he surfeit, ’t is he must feel it; if he drab
it, ’t is he must lie by ’t: what ’s this to me?
_Hoa._ What ’s all to thee? Nothing, nothing; such is the gulf of
thy desire and the wolf of (45) thy conscience: but be assured, old
Pecunius Lucre, if ever fortune so bless me that I may be at leisure
to vex thee, or any means so favour me that I may have opportunity to
mad thee,[3807] I will pursue it with that flame of hate, (50) spirit
of malice, unrepressed wrath, that I will blast thy comforts.
_Luc._ Ha, ha, ha!
_Lam._ Nay, Master Hoard, you ’re a wise gentleman—— 55
_Hoa._ I will so cross thee——
_Luc._ And I thee.
_Hoa._ So without mercy fret thee——
_Luc._ So monstrously oppose thee——
_Hoa._ Dost scoff at my just anger? O, that (60) I had as much power
as usury has over thee!
_Luc._ Then thou wouldst have as much power as the devil has over
thee.
_Hoa._ Toad!
_Luc._ Aspic![3808] 65
_Hoa._ Serpent!
_Luc._ Viper!
_Spi._ Nay, gentlemen, then we must divide you perforce.
_Lam._ When the fire grows too unreasonable (70) hot, there ’s no
better way than to take off the wood.
_Exeunt_ [LAMPREY _and_ SPICHCOCK, _drawing off_ LUCRE _and_ HOARD
_different ways_].
_Free._ A word, good signior.
_Mon._ How now, what ’s the news?
_Free._ ’T is given me to understand that (75) you are a rival of
mine in the love of Mistress Joyce, Master Hoard’s niece: say me ay,
say me no?
_Mon._ Yes, ’t is so.
_Free._ Then look to yourself, you cannot (80) live long. I’m
practising every morning; a month hence I ’ll challenge you.
_Mon._ Give me your hand upon ’t; there ’s my pledge I ’ll meet you.
_Strikes him, and exit._
_Free._ O, O! what reason had you for that, sir, to strike before
the month? You knew (86) I was not ready for you, and that made you
so crank:[3809] I am not such a coward to strike again, I warrant
you. My ear has the law of her side, for it burns horribly. I will
teach him to strike a naked face, the longest day of his life. 91
’Slid, it shall cost me some money but I ’ll bring this box into the
chancery. _Exit._
[SCENE IV.][3810]
_Enter_ WITGOOD _and_ Host.
_Host._ Fear you nothing, sir; I have lodg’d her in a house of
credit, I warrant you.
_Wit._ Hast thou the writings?
_Host._ Firm, sir.
_Wit._ Prithee, stay, and behold two the (5) most prodigious rascals
that ever slipt into the shape of men; Dampit, sirrah, and young
Gulf, his fellow-caterpillar.
_Host._ Dampit? Sure I have heard of that Dampit? 10
_Wit._ Heard of him! Why, man, he that has lost both his ears
may hear of him; a famous infamous trampler[3811] of time; his
own phrase. Note him well: that Dampit, sirrah, he in the uneven
beard and the serge cloak, is the (15) most notorious, usuring,
blasphemous, atheistical, brothel-vomiting rascal, that we have in
these latter times now extant; whose first beginning was the stealing
of a masty[3812] dog from a farmer’s house. 20
_Host._ He lookt as if he would obey the commandment[s] well, when he
began first with stealing.
_Wit._ True: the next town he came at, he set the dogs together by
th’ ears. 25
_Host._ A sign he should follow the law, by my faith.
_Wit._ So it followed, indeed; and being destitute of all fortunes,
stakt his masty against a noble,[3813] and by great fortune his dog
had the (30) day. How he made it up ten shillings, I know not, but
his own boast is, that he came to town with but ten shillings in his
purse, and now is credibly worth ten thousand pound.
_Host._ How the devil came he by it? 35
[_Enter_ DAMPIT _and_ GULF.]
_Wit._ How the devil came he not by it? If you put in the devil once,
riches come with a vengeance. Has been a trampler of the law, sir;
and the devil has a care of his footmen. The rogue has spied me now;
he nibbled me finely (40) once, too:—a pox search you!—O, Master
Dampit!—the very loins of thee!—Cry you mercy. Master Gulf; you
walk so low, I promise you I saw you not, sir.
_Gulf._ He that walks low walks safe, the (45) poets tell us.
_Wit._ [_Aside._] And nigher hell by a foot and a half than the rest
of his fellows.—But, my old Harry!
_Dam._ My sweet Theodorus! 50
_Wit._ ’T was a merry world when thou camest to town with ten
shillings in thy purse.
_Dam._ And now worth ten thousand pound, my boy. Report it; Harry
Dampit, a trampler of time, say, he would be up in a morning, 55
and be here with his serge gown, dasht up to the hams in a cause;
have his feet stink about Westminster Hall, and come home again; see
the galleons, the galleasses,[3814] the great armadas of the law;
then there be hoys[3815] and petty (60) vessels, oars and scullers
of the time; there be picklocks of the time too: then would I be
here; I would trample up and down like a mule: now to the judges,
“May it please your reverend honourable fatherhoods;” then to (65) my
counsellor, “May it please your worshipful patience;” then to the
examiner’s office, “May it please your mastership’s gentleness;” then
to one of the clerks, “May it please your worshipful lousiness,”—for
I find him scrubbing (70) in his codpiece; then to the hall again,
then to the chamber again—
_Wit._ And when to the cellar again?
_Dam._ E’en when thou wilt again: tramplers of time, motions[3816]
of Fleet-Street, and visions (75) of Holborn; here I have fees of
one, there I have fees of another; my clients come about me, the
fooliaminy[3817] and coxcombry of the country: I still trasht[3818]
and trotted for other men’s causes. Thus was pour Harry Dampit 80
made rich by others’ laziness, who though they would not follow their
own suits, I made ’em follow me with their purses.
_Wit._ Didst thou so, old Harry?
_Dam._ Ay, and I sous’d ’em with bills of (85) charges, i’ faith;
twenty pound a-year have I brought in for boat-hire, and I ne’er
stept into boat in my life.
_Wit._ Tramplers of time!
_Dam._ Ay, tramplers of time, rascals of (90) time,
bull-beggars![3819]
_Wit._ Ah, thou ’rt a mad old Harry!—Kind Master Gulf, I am bold to
renew my acquaintance.
_Gulf._ I embrace it, sir. _Exeunt._ 95
MUSIC
ACT II
[SCENE I.][3820]
_Enter_ LUCRE.
_Luc._ My adversary evermore twits me with my nephew, forsooth, my
nephew: why may not a virtuous uncle have a dissolute nephew? What
though he be a brotheller, a wastethrift, a common surfeiter, and, to
conclude, a beggar, (5) must sin in him call up shame in me? Since
we have no part in their follies, why should we have part in their
infamies? For my strict hand toward his mortgage, that I deny not: I
confess I had an uncle’s pen’worth; (10) let me see, half in half,
true. I saw neither hope of his reclaiming, nor comfort in his being;
and was it not then better bestow’d upon his uncle than upon one of
his aunts?—I need not say bawd, for every one knows what “aunt”
stands for in the last translation. 16
[_Enter_ Servant.]
Now, Sir?
_Ser._ There ’s a country serving-man, sir, attends to speak with
your worship.
_Luc._ I ’m at best leisure now; send him in (20) to me. [_Exit_
Servant.]
_Enter_ Host _like a serving-man._
_Host._ Bless your venerable worship.
_Luc._ Welcome, good fellow.
_Host._ [_Aside._] He calls me thief[3821] at first sight, yet he
little thinks I am an host.
_Luc._ What ’s thy business with me? 26
_Host._ Faith, sir, I am sent from my mistress, to any sufficient
gentleman indeed, to ask advice upon a doubtful point: ’t is
indifferent, sir, to whom I come, for I know none, nor (30) did
my mistress direct me to any particular man, for she ’s as mere a
stranger here as myself; only I found your worship within, and ’t is
a thing I ever lov’d, sir, to be despatcht as soon as I can. 35
_Luc._ [_Aside._] A good, blunt honesty; I like him well.—What is
thy mistress?
_Host._ Faith, a country gentlewoman, and a widow, sir. Yesterday was
the first flight of us; but now she intends to stay till a little 40
term business be ended.
_Luc._ Her name, I prithee?
_Host._ It runs there in the writings, sir, among her lands; Widow
Medler.
_Luc._ Medler? Mass, have I[3822] ne’er heard (45) of that widow?
_Host._ Yes, I warrant you, have you, sir; not the rich widow in
Staffordshire?
_Luc._ Cuds[3823] me, there ’t is indeed; thou hast put me into
memory. There ’s a widow indeed; (50) ah, that I were a bachelor
again!
_Host._ No doubt your worship might do much then; but she ’s fairly
promist to a bachelor already.
_Luc._ Ah, what is he, I prithee? 55
_Host._ A country gentleman too; one of whom your worship knows not,
I ’m sure; h’as spent some few follies in his youth, but marriage, by
my faith, begins to call him home. My mistress loves him, sir, and
love covers faults, you (60) know, one Master Witgood, if ever you
have heard of the gentleman.
_Luc._ Ha! Witgood, sayst thou?
_Host._ That ’s his name indeed, sir; my mistress is like to bring
him to a goodly seat (65) yonder; four hundred a-year, by my faith.
_Luc._ But, I pray, take me with you.[3824]
_Host._ Ay, sir.
_Luc._ What countryman might this young Witgood be? 70
_Host._ A Leicestershire gentleman, sir.
_Luc._ [_Aside._] My nephew, by th’ mass, my nephew! I ’ll fetch out
more of this, i’ faith: a simple country fellow, I ’ll work ’t out of
him.—And is that gentleman, sayst thou, presently to marry her? 76
_Host._ Faith, he brought her up to town, sir; h’as the best card
in all the bunch for ’t, her heart; and I know my mistress will be
married ere she go down;[3825] nay, I ’ll swar that, for (80) she ’s
none of those widows that will go down first, and be married after;
she hates that, I can tell you, sir.
_Luc._ By my faith, sir, she is like to have a proper gentleman, and
a comely; I ’ll give (85) her that gift.
_Host._ Why, does your worship know him, sir?
_Luc._ I know him? Does not all the world know him? Can a man of such
exquisite (90) qualities be hid under a bushel?
_Host._ Then your worship may save me a labour, for I had charge
given me to inquire after him.
_Luc._ Inquire of him? If I might counsel (95) thee, thou shouldst
ne’er trouble thyself further; inquire of him no more, but of me;
I ’ll fit thee. I grant he has been youthful; but is he not now
reclaim’d? Mark you that, sir: has not your mistress, think you,
been wanton (100) in her youth? If men be wags, are there not women
wagtails?
_Host._ No doubt, sir.
_Luc._ Does not he return wisest that comes home whipt with his own
follies? 105
_Host._ Why, very true, sir.
_Luc._ The worst report you can hear of him, I can tell you, is that
he has been a kind gentleman, a liberal, and a worthy; who but lusty
Witgood, thrice-noble Witgood! 110
_Host._ Since your worship has so much knowledge in him, can you
resolve me, sir, what his living might be? My duty binds me, sir, to
have a care of my mistress’ estate; she has been ever a good mistress
to me, though I (115) say it. Many wealthy suitors has she nonsuited
for his sake; yet, though her love be so fixt, a man cannot tell
whether his non-performance may help to remove it, sir, he makes us
believe he has lands and living. 120
_Luc._ Who, young Master Witgood? Why, believe it, he has as goodly a
fine living out yonder,—what do you call the place?
_Host._ Nay, I know not, i’ faith.
_Luc._ Hum—see, like a beast, if I have (125) not forgot the
name—pooh! and out yonder again, goodly grown woods and fair
meadows: pax[3826] on ’t, I can ne’er hit of that place neither.—He?
Why, he ’s Witgood of Witgood Hall; he an unknown thing! 130
_Host._ Is he so, sir? To see how rumour will alter! Trust me, sir,
we heard once he had no lands, but all lay mortgag’d to an uncle he
has in town here.
_Luc._ Push! ’t is a tale, ’t is a tale. 135
_Host._ I can assure you, sir, ’t was credibly reported
to my mistress.
_Luc._ Why, do you think, i’ faith, he was ever so simple to mortgage
his lands to his uncle, or his uncle so unnatural to take the
extremity of such a mortgage? 141
_Host._ That was my saying still, sir.
_Luc._ Pooh, ne’er think it.
_Host._ Yet that report goes current.
_Luc._ Nay, then you urge me: (145) Cannot I tell that best that am
his uncle?
_Host._ How, sir? what have I done!
_Luc._ Why, how now! In a swoon, man?
_Host._ Is your worship his uncle, sir?
_Luc._ Can that be any harm to you, sir? 150
_Host._ I do beseech you, sir, do me the favour to conceal it. What a
beast was I to utter so much! Pray, sir, do me the kindness to keep
it in; I shall have my coat pull’d o’er my ears, an ’t should be
known; for the truth is, an ’t (155) please your worship, to prevent
much rumour and many suitors, they intend to be married very suddenly
and privately.
_Luc._ And dost thou think it stands with my judgment to do them
injury? Must I needs (160) say the knowledge of this marriage comes
from thee? Am I a fool at fifty-four? Do I lack subtlety now, that
have got all my wealth by it? There ’s a leash of angels[3827] for
thee: come, let me woo thee speak where lie[3828] they? 165
_Host._ So I might have no anger, sir——
_Luc._ Passion of me, not a jot: prithee, come.
_Host._ I would not have it known, sir, it came by my means.
_Luc._ Why, am I a man of wisdom? 170
_Host._ I dare trust your worship, sir; but I ’m a stranger to your
house; and to avoid all intelligencers, I desire your worship’s ear.
_Luc._ [_Aside._] This fellow ’s worth a matter of trust.—Come, sir.
[Host _whispers to him._] Why, now, thou ’rt an honest lad.—Ah, 176
sirrah, nephew!
_Host._ Please you, sir, now I have begun with your worship, when
shall I attend for your advice upon that doubtful point? I must come
warily now. 181
_Luc._ Tut, fear thou nothing; To-morrow’s evening shall resolve the
doubt.
_Host._ The time shall cause my attendance. _Exit._
_Luc._ Fare thee well.—There ’s more true (185) honesty in such a
country serving-man than in a hundred of our cloak companions:[3829]
I may well call ’em companions,[3829] for since blue[3830] coats
have been turn’d into cloaks, we can scarce know the man from the
master.—George! 190
[_Enter_ GEORGE.]
_Geo._ Anon, sir.
_Luc._ List hither: [_whispers_] keep the place secret: commend me to
my nephew; I know no cause, tell him, but he might see his uncle.
_Geo._ I will, sir. 195
_Luc._ And, do you hear, sir? Take heed to use him with respect and
duty.
_Geo._ [_Aside._] Here’s a strange alteration; one day he must be
turn’d out like a beggar, and now he must be call’d in like a
knight. 200
_Exit._
_Luc._ Ah, sirrah, that rich widow!—four hundred a-year! beside,
I hear she lays claim to a title of a hundred more. This falls
unhappily that he should bear a grudge to me now, being likely to
prove so rich. What (205) is ’t, trow, that he makes me a stranger
for? Hum,—I hope he has not so much wit to apprehend that I cozened
him: he deceives me then. Good Heaven, who would have thought
it would ever have come to this pass! yet (210) he ’s a proper
gentleman, i’ faith, give him his due,—marry, that ’s his mortgage;
but that I ne’er mean to give him. I ’ll make him rich enough in
words, if that be good: and if it come to a piece of money, I will
not greatly stick (215) for ’t; there may be hope some of the widow’s
lands, too, may one day fall upon me, if things be carried wisely.
[_Re-enter_ GEORGE.]
Now, sir, where is he?
_Geo._ He desires your worship to hold him (220) excus’d; he has such
weighty business, it commands him wholly from all men.
_Luc._ Were those my nephew’s words?
_Geo._ Yes, indeed, sir.
_Luc._ [_Aside._] When men grow rich, they (225) grow proud too, I
perceive that. He would not have sent me such an answer once within
this twelvemonth: see what ’t is when a man comes to his lands!
Return to him again, sir; tell him his uncle desires his company for
an hour; (230) I ’ll trouble him but an hour, say; ’t is for his
own good, tell him: and, do you hear, sir? put “worship” upon him.
Go to do as I bid you; he ’s like to be a gentleman of worship very
shortly. 235
_Geo._ [_Aside._] This is good sport, i’ faith. _Exit._
_Luc._ Troth, he uses his uncle discourteously now. Can he tell
what I may do for him? Goodness may come from me in a minute, that
comes not in seven year again. He knows my humour; (240) I am not so
usually good; ’t is no small thing that draws kindness from me, he
may know that an he will. The chief cause that invites me to do him
most good is the sudden astonishing of old Hoard, my adversary. How
(245) pale his malice will look at my nephew’s advancement! With what
a dejected spirit he will behold his fortunes, whom but last day he
proclaim’d rioter, penurious makeshift, despised brothel-master! Ha,
ha! ’t will do me (250) more secret joy than my last purchase, more
precious comfort than all these widow’s revenues.
[_Re_-]_enter_ [GEORGE, _showing in_] WITGOOD.
Now, sir?
_Geo._ With much entreaty he ’s at length (255) come, sir. [_Exit._]
_Luc._ O, nephew, let me salute you, sir! Your ’re welcome, nephew.
_Wit._ Uncle, I thank you.
_Luc._ You ’ve a fault, nephew; you ’re a (260) stranger here. Well,
Heaven give you joy!
_Wit._ Of what, sir?
_Luc._ Hah, we can hear!
You might have known your uncle’s house, i’ faith,
You and your widow: go to, you were to blame;
If I may tell you so without offence. 266
_Wit._ How could you hear of that, sir?
_Luc._ O, pardon me!
’T was your will to have kept it from me, I perceive now.
_Wit._ Not for any defect of love, I protest, uncle. 271
_Luc._ Oh, ’t was unkindness, nephew! fie, fie, fie.
_Wit._ I am sorry you take it in that sense, sir.
_Luc._ Pooh, you cannot colour it, i’ faith, (275) nephew.
_Wit._ Will you but hear what I can say in my just excuse, sir.
_Luc._ Yes, faith, will I, and welcome. 279
_Wit._ You that know my danger i’ th’ city, sir, so well, how great
my debts are, and how extreme my creditors, could not out of your
pure judgment, sir, have wisht us hither.
_Luc._ Mass, a firm reason indeed.
_Wit._ Else, my uncle ’s house! why, ’t had (285) been the only
make-match.
_Luc._ Nay, and thy credit.
_Wit._ My credit? Nay, my countenance. Pish, nay, I know, uncle, you
would have wrought it so by your wit, you would have made her believe
in time the whole house had been mine. 291
_Luc._ Ay, and most of the goods too.
_Wit._ La, you there! Well, let ’em all prate what they will, there
’s nothing like the bringing of a widow to one’s uncle’s house. 295
_Luc._ Nay, let nephews be rul’d as they list, they shall find their
uncle’s house the most natural place when all ’s done.
_Wit._ There they may be bold.
_Luc._ Life, they may do anything there, (300) man, and fear neither
beadle nor summoner. An uncle’s house! a very Cole-Harbour.[3831]
Sirrah, I ’ll touch thee near now: hast thou so much interest in thy
widow, that by a token thou couldst presently send for her? 305
_Wit._ Troth, I think I can, uncle.
_Luc._ Go to, let me see that.
_Wit._ Pray, command one of your men hither, uncle.
_Luc._ George! 310
[_Re-enter_ GEORGE.]
_Geo._ Here, sir.
_Luc._ Attend my nephew. [WITGOOD _whispers to_ GEORGE, _who then
goes out_.]—[_Aside._] I love a’ life[3832] to prattle with a rich
widow; ’t is pretty, methinks, when our tongues go together: 315
and then to promise much and perform little. I love that sport a’
life, i’ faith; yet I am in the mood now to do my nephew some good,
if he take me handsomely. What, have you despatcht? 320
_Wit._ I ha’ sent, sir.
_Luc._ Yet I must condemn you of unkindness, nephew.
_Wit._ Heaven forbid, uncle!
_Luc._ Yes, faith, must I. Say your debts be (325) many, your
creditors importunate, yet the kindness of a thing is all, nephew:
you might have sent me close[3833] word on ’t, without the least
danger or prejudice to your fortunes. 329
_Wit._ Troth, I confess it, uncle; I was to blame there; but, indeed,
my intent was to have clapt it up suddenly, and so have broke forth
like a joy to my friends, and a wonder to the world. Beside, there
’s a trifle of a forty pound matter toward the setting of me forth;
(335) my friends should ne’er have known on ’t; I meant to make shift
for that myself.
_Luc._ How, nephew? let me not hear such a word again, I beseech you.
Shall I be beholding to you? 340
_Wit._ To me? Alas, what do you mean, uncle?
_Luc._ I charge you, upon my love, you trouble nobody but myself.
_Wit._ You ’ve no reason for that, uncle.
_Luc._ Troth, I ’ll ne’er be friends with you while you live, an you
do. 346
_Wit._ Nay, an you say so, uncle, here ’s my hand; I will not do ’t.
_Luc._ Why, well said I there’s some hope in thee when thou wilt be
rul’d. I’ll make it (350) up fifty, faith, because I see thee so
reclaim’d. Peace; here comes my wife with Sam, her t’ other husband’s
son.
[_Enter_ MISTRESS LUCRE _and_ FREEDOM.]
_Wit._ Good aunt. 354
_Free._ Cousin Witgood, I rejoice in my salute; you ’re most welcome
to this noble city, govern’d with the sword in the scabbard.
_Wit._ [_Aside._] And the wit in the pommel.— Good Master Sam
Freedom, I return the salute.
_Luc._ By the mass, she ’s coming, wife; let (360) me see now how
thou wilt entertain her.
_Mis. L._ I hope I am not to learn, sir, to entertain a widow; ’t is
not so long since I was one myself.
[_Enter_ Courtesan.]
_Wit._ Uncle—— 365
_Luc._ She’s come indeed.
_Wit._ My uncle was desirous to see you, widow, and I presumed to
invite you.
_Cour._ The presumption was nothing, Master Witgood. Is this your
uncle, sir? 370
_Luc._ Marry am I, sweet widow; and his good uncle he shall find me;
ay, by this smack that I give thee, thou ’rt welcome.—Wife, bid the
widow welcome the same way again. 374
_Free._ [_Aside._] I am a gentleman now too by my father’s
occupation, and I see no reason but I may kiss a widow by my father’s
copy:[3834]—truly, I think the charter is not against it; surely
these are the words, “The son once a gentleman may revel it, though
his father were a dauber;” (380) ’t is about the fifteenth page: I
’ll to her. [_Offers to kiss the_ Courtesan, _who repulses him_.]
_Luc._ You ’re not very busy now; a word with thee, sweet widow. 385
_Free._ Coads-nigs![3835] I was never so disgrac’d since the hour my
mother whipt me.
_Luc._ Beside, I have no child of mine own to care for; she ’s my
second wife, old, past bearing; clap sure to him, widow; he ’s like
to be my heir, I can tell you. 391
_Cour._ Is he so, sir?
_Luc._ He knows it already, and the knave ’s proud on ’t; jolly rich
widows have been offer’d him here i’ th’ city, great merchants’
wives; and do you think he will once look upon (396) ’em? Forsooth,
he ’ll none. You are beholding to him i’ th’ country, then, ere we
could be: nay, I ’ll hold a wager, widow, if he were once known to
be in town, he would be presently (400) sought after; nay, and happy
were they that could catch him first.
_Cour._ I think so.
_Luc._ O, there would be such running to and fro, widow! He should
not pass the streets for ’em: he ’d be took up in one great house
or (406) other presently: faugh! they know he has it, and must have
it. You see this house here, widow; this house and all comes to him;
goodly rooms, ready furnisht, ceil’d with plaster (410) of Paris, and
all hung about with cloth of arras.—Nephew.
_Wit._ Sir.
_Luc._ Show the widow your house; carry her into all the rooms, and
bid her welcome.—You (415) shall see, widow.—[_Aside to_ WITGOOD.]
Nephew, strike all sure above an thou beest a good boy,—ah!
_Wit._ Alas, sir, I know not how she would take it! 420
_Luc._ The right way, I warrant t’ ee. A pox, art an ass? Would
I were in thy stead! get you up, I am asham’d of you. [_Exeunt_
WITGOOD _and_ Courtesan.] So! let ’em agree as they will now: many
a match has been struck up in my house a’ this fashion’: let
’em try all manner (426) of ways, still there ’s nothing like
an uncle’s house to strike the stroke in. I ’ll hold my wife in
talk a little.—Now Jenny, your son there goes a-wooing to a poor
gentlewoman but of (430) a thousand pound portion: see my nephew, a
lad of less hope, strikes at four hundred a-year in good rubbish.
_Mis. L._ Well, we must do as we may, sir.
_Luc._ I ’ll have his money ready told for him again[3836] he come
down. Let me see, too;—by (436) th’ mass, I must present the widow
with some jewel, a good piece a’ plate, or such a device; ’t will
hearten her on well. I have a very fair standing cup; and a good high
standing cup (440) will please a widow above all other pieces. _Exit._
_Mis. L._ Do you mock us with your nephew?—I have a plot in my head,
son;—i’ faith, husband, to cross you.
_Free._ Is it a tragedy plot, or a comedy plot, good mother? 446
_Mis. L._ ’T is a plot shall vex him. I charge you, of my blessing,
son Sam, that you presently withdraw the action of your love from
Master Hoard’s niece. 450
_Free._ How, mother?
_Mis L._ Nay, I have a plot in my head, i’ faith. Here, take this
chain of gold, and this fair diamond: dog me the widow home to her
lodging, and at thy best opportunity, fasten ’em (455) both upon her.
Nay, I have a reach:[3837] I can tell you thou art known what thou
art, son, among the right worshipful, all the twelve companies.
_Free._ Truly, I thank ’em for it. 460
_Mis L._ He? he ’s a scab to thee: and so certify her thou hast two
hundred a-year of thyself, besides thy good parts—a proper person
and a lovely. If I were a widow, I could find in my heart to have
thee myself, son; ay, (465) from ’em all.
_Free._ Thank you for your good will, mother: but, indeed, I had
rather have a stranger: and if I woo her not in that violent fashion,
that (469) I will make her be glad to take these gifts ere I leave
her, let me never be called the heir of your body.
_Mis L._ Nay, I know there ’s enough in you, son, if you once come to
put it forth. 474
_Free._ I ’ll quickly make a bolt or a shaft on ’t.[3838] _Exeunt._
[SCENE II.][3839]
_Enter_ HOARD _and_ MONEYLOVE.
_Mon._ Faith, Master Hoard, I have bestowed many months in the suit
of your niece, such was the dear love I ever bore to her virtues:
but since she hath so extremely denied me, I am to lay out for my
fortunes elsewhere. 5
_Hoa._ Heaven forbid but you should, sir! I ever told you my niece
stood otherwise affected.[3840]
_Mon._ I must confess you did, sir; yet, in regard of my great loss
of time, and the zeal with which I sought your niece, shall I desire
one (10) favour of your worship?
_Hoa._ In regard of those two, ’t is hard but you shall, sir.
_Mon._ I shall rest grateful: ’t is not full three hours, sir, since
the happy rumour of a rich (15) country widow came to my hearing.
_Hoa._ How? a rich country widow?
_Mon._ Four hundred a-year landed.
_Hoa._ Yea?
_Mon._ Most firm, sir; and I have learnt her (20) lodging. Here
my suit begins, sir; if I might but entreat your worship to be a
countenance for me, and speak a good word (for your words will pass).
I nothing doubt but I might set fair for the widow; nor shall your
labour, sir, end (25) altogether in thanks; two hundred angels——
_Hoa._ So, so: what suitors has she?
_Mon._ There lies the comfort, sir; the report of her is yet but a
whisper; and only solicited by young riotous Witgood, nephew to your
mortal adversary. 31
_Hoa._ Ha! art certain he ’s her suitor?
_Mon._ Most certain, sir; and his uncle very industrious to beguile
the widow, and make up the match. 35
_Hoa._ So: very good.
_Mon._ Now, sir, you know this young Witgood is a spendthrift,
dissolute fellow.
_Hoa._ A very rascal.
_Mon._ A midnight surfeiter. 40
_Hoa._ The spume of a brothel-house.
_Mon._ True, sir; which being well told in your worship’s phrase, may
both heave him out of her mind, and drive a fair way for me to the
widow’s affections. 45
_Hoa._ Attend me about five.
_Mon._ With my best care, sir. _Exit._
_Hoa._ Fool, thou hast left thy treasure with a thief.
To trust a widower with a suit in love! Happy revenge, I hug thee!
I have not only (50) the means laid before me, extremely to cross my
adversary, and confound the last hopes of his nephew, but thereby to
enrich my estate, augment my revenues, and build mine own fortunes
greater: ha, ha! 55
I ’ll mar your phrase, o’erturn your flatteries,
Undo your windings, policies, and plots,
Fall like a secret and despatchful plague
On your secured comforts. Why, I am able
To buy three of Lucre; thrice outbid him, 60
Let my out-monies be reckoned and all.
_Enter three_ [_of_ WITGOOD’S] Creditors.
1 [_Cred._] I am glad of this news.
2 [_Cred._] So are we, by my faith.
3 [_Cred._] Young Witgood will be a gallant again now. 65
_Hoa._ Peace. [_Listening._]
_1 Cred._ I promise you, Master Cockpit, she ’s a mighty rich widow.
_2 Cred._ Why, have you ever heard of her?
_1 Cred._ Who? Widow Medler? She lies (70) open to much rumour.
_3 Cred._ Four hundred a-year, they say, in very good land.
_1 Cred._ [Nay,] take ’t of my word, if you believe that, you believe
the least. 75
_2 Cred._ And to see how close he keeps it!
_1 Cred._ O, sir, there ’s policy in that, to prevent better suitors.
_3 Cred._ He owes me a hundred pound, and I protest I ne’er lookt for
a penny. 80
_1 Cred._ He little dreams of our coming; he ’ll wonder to see his
creditors upon him. _Exeunt_ [Creditors].
_Hoa._ Good, his creditors: I ’ll follow. This makes for me:
All know the widow’s wealth; and ’t is well known
I can estate her fairly, ay, and will. 85
In this one chance shines a twice happy fate;
I both deject my foe and raise my state. _Exit._
MUSIC
ACT III
[SCENE I.][3841]
[_Enter_] WITGOOD _with his_ Creditors.
_Wit._ Why, alas, my creditors, could you find no other time to undo
me but now? Rather your malice appears in this than the justness of
the debt.
_1 Cred._ Master Witgood, I have forborne (5) my money long.
_Wit._ I pray, speak low, sir: what do you mean?
_2 Cred._ We hear you are to be married suddenly to a rich country
widow. 10
_Wit._ What can be kept so close but you creditors hear on ’t! Well,
’t is a lamentable state, that our chiefest afflictors should first
hear of our fortunes. Why, this is no good course, i’ faith, sirs: if
ever you have hope to be satisfied, (15) why do you seek to confound
the means that should work it? There’s neither piety, no, nor policy
in that. Shine favourably now: why, I may rise and spread again, to
your great comforts. 20
_1 Cred._ He says true, i’ faith.
_Wit._ Remove me now, and I consume for ever.
_2 Cred._ Sweet gentleman!
_Wit._ How can it thrive which from the sun you sever?
_3 Cred._ It cannot; indeed. 25
_Wit._ O, then, show patience! I shall have enough
To satisfy you all.
_Cred._ Ay, if we could
Be content, a shame take us!
_Wit._ For, look you;
I am but newly sure[3842] yet to the widow,
And what a rend might this discredit make! 30
Within these three days will I bind you lands
For your securities.
_1 Cred._ No, good Master Witgood:
Would ’t were as much as we dare trust you with!
_Wit._ I know you have been kind; however, now,
Either by wrong report or false incitement, 35
Your gentleness is injured: in such
A state as this a man cannot want foes.
If on the sudden he begin to rise,
No man that lives can count his enemies.
You had some intelligence, I warrant ye, 40
From an ill-willer.
_2 Cred._ Faith, we heard you brought up a rich widow, sir, and were
suddenly to marry her. 44
_Wit._ Ay, why there it was; I knew ’t was so; but since you are
so well resolv’d,[3843] of my faith toward you, let me be so much
favour’d of you, I beseech you all——
_All._ O, it shall not need, i’ faith, sir!—— 49
_Wit._ As to lie still awhile, and bury my debts in silence, till I
be fully possest of the widow; for the truth is—I may tell you as my
friends——
_All._ O, O, O!—— 54
_Wit._ I am to raise a little money in the city, toward the setting
forth of myself, for my own credit and your comfort. Now, if my
former debts should be divulg’d, all hope of my proceedings were
quite extinguisht. 59
_1 Cred._ Do you hear, sir? I may deserve your custom hereafter;
pray, let my money be accepted before a stranger’s. Here ’s forty
pound I receiv’d as I came to you; if that may stand you in any
stead, make use on ’t. [_Offers him money, which he at first
declines._] Nay, pray, sir; ’t is at your service. 66
_Wit._ You do so ravish me with kindness, that
I am constrain’d to play the maid, and take it.
_1 Cred._ Let none of them see it, I beseech you. 70
_Wit._ Faugh!
_1 Cred._ I hope I shall be first in your remembrance
After the marriage rites.
_Wit._ Believe it firmly.
_1 Cred._ So.—What, do you walk, sirs? 74
_2 Cred._ I go.—[_Aside to_ WITGOOD.]—Take no care, sir, for money
to furnish you; within this hour I send you sufficient. Come, Master
Cockpit, we both stay for you.
_3 Cred._ I ha’ lost a ring, i’ faith; I ’ll follow you presently
[_exeunt_ 1 _and_ 2 Creditors]—but (80) you shall find it, sir. I
know your youth and expenses have disfurnisht you of all jewels:
there ’s a ruby of twenty pound price, sir; bestow it upon your
widow. [_Offers him the ring, which he at first declines._]—What,
man! ’t (85) will call up her blood to you; beside, if I might
so much work with you, I would not have you beholding to those
bloodsuckers for any money.
_Wit._ Not I, believe it.
_3 Cred._ They ’re a brace of cut-throats. 90
_Wit._ I know ’em.
_3 Cred._ Send a note of all your wants to my shop, and I ’ll supply
you instantly.
_Wit._ Say you so? Why, here ’s my hand then, no man living shalt do
’t but thyself. 95
_3 Cred._ Shall I carry it away from ’em both, then?
_Wit._ I’ faith, shalt thou.
_3 Cred._ Troth, then, I thank you, sir. 99
_Wit._ Welcome, good Master Cockpit. _Exit_ [3 Creditor].—Ha,
ha, ha! why, is not this better now than lying a-bed? I perceive
there ’s nothing conjures up wit sooner than poverty, and nothing
lays it down sooner than wealth and lechery: this has some savour
yet. O that (105) I had the mortgage from mine uncle as sure in
possession as these trifles! I would forswear brothel at noonday, and
muscadine[3844] and eggs, at midnight.
_Enter_ Courtesan.
_Cour._ Master Witgood, where are you? 110
_Wit._ Holla!
_Cour._ Rich news!
_Wit._ Would ’t were all in plate!
_Cour._ There ’s some in chains and jewels. I am so haunted with
suitors, Master Witgood, I know not which to despatch first. 116
_Wit._ You have the better term,[3845] by my faith.
_Cour._ Among the number
One Master Hoard, an ancient gentleman.
_Wit._ Upon my life, my uncle’s adversary. 120
_Cour._ It may well hold so, for he rails on you,
Speaks shamefully of him.
_Wit._ As I could wish it.
_Cour._ I first denied him, but so cunningly,
It rather promis’d him assured hopes,
Than any loss of labour.
_Wit._ Excellent! 125
_Cour._ I expect him every hour with gentlemen,
With whom he labours to make good his words,
To approve you riotous, your state consum’d.
Your uncle,——
_Wit._ Wench, make up thy own fortunes (130) now; do thyself a good
turn once in thy days. He ’s rich in money, movables, and lands;
marry him: he ’s an old doting fool, and that ’s worth all; marry
him. ’T would be a great comfort to me to see thee do well, i’ faith;
marry (135) him. ’T would ease my conscience well to see thee well
bestow’d; I have a care of thee, i’ faith.
_Cour._ Thanks, sweet Master Witgood.
_Wit._ I reach at farther happiness: first, I (140) am sure it can be
no harm to thee, and there may happen goodness to me by it. Prosecute
it well; let ’s send up for our wits, now we require their best and
most pregnant assistance.
_Cour._ Step in, I think I hear ’em. [_Exeunt._]
_Enter_ HOARD _and_ Gentlemen _with the_ Host _as serving-man._
_Hoa._ Art thou the widow’s man? By my (146) faith, sh’as a company
of proper men then.
_Host._ I am the worst of six, sir; good enough for blue coats.
_Hoa._ Hark hither: I hear say thou art in most credit with her. 151
_Host._ Not so, sir.
_Hoa._ Come, come, thou ’rt modest. There ’s a brace of royals;[3846]
prithee, help me to th’ speech of her. [_Gives him money._] 155
_Host._ I ’ll do what I may, sir, always saving myself harmless.
_Hoa._ Go to, do ’t, I say; thou shalt hear better from me.
_Host._ [_Aside._] Is not this a better place (160) than five
mark[3847] a-year standing wages? Say a man had but three such
clients in a day, methinks he might make a poor living on ’t; beside,
I was never brought up with so little honesty to refuse any man’s
money; never. (165) What gulls there are a’ this side the world!
Now know I the widow’s mind; none but my young master comes in her
clutches: ha, ha, ha! _Exit._
_Hoa._ Now, my dear gentlemen, stand firmly to me; You know his
follies and my worth.
1 [_Gent._] We do, sir. 170
2 [_Gent._] But, Master Hoard, are you sure he is not i’ th’ house
now?
_Hoa._ Upon my honesty. I chose this time
A’ purpose, fit: the spendthrift is abroad.
Assist me; here she comes.
_Enter_ Courtesan.
Now, my sweet widow. 175
_Cour._ You ’re welcome, Master Hoard.
_Hoa._ Despatch, sweet gentlemen, despatch.—
I am come, widow, to prove those my words
Neither of envy sprung nor of false tongues,
But such as their[3848] deserts and actions 180
Do merit and bring forth; all which these gentlemen,
Well known, and better reputed, will confess.
_Cour._ I cannot tell
How my affections may dispose of me;
But surely if they find him so desertless, 185
They ’ll have that reason to withdraw themselves:
And therefore, gentlemen, I do entreat you,
As you are fair in reputation
And in appearing form, so shine in truth.
I am a widow, and, alas, you know, 190
Soon overthrown! ’T is a very small thing
That we withstand, our weakness is so great:
Be partial unto neither, but deliver,
Without affection, your opinion.
_Hoa._ And that will drive it home. 195
_Cour._ Nay, I beseech your silence, Master Hoard;
You are a party.
_Hoa._ Widow, not a word.
_1 Gent._ The better first to work you to belief,
Know neither of us owe him flattery,
Nor t’ other malice; but unbribed censure,[3849] 200
So help us our best fortunes!
_Cour._ It suffices.
_1 Gent._ That Witgood is a riotous, undone man,
Imperfect both in fame and in estate,
His debts wealthier than he, and executions
In wait for his due body, we ’ll maintain 205
With our best credit and our dearest blood.
_Cour._ Nor land nor living, say you? Pray, take heed
You do not wrong the gentleman.
_1 Gent._ What we speak
Our lives and means are ready to make good.
_Cour._ Alas, how soon are we poor souls beguil’d! 210
_2 Gent._ And for his uncle——
_Hoa._ Let that come to me.
His uncle, a severe extortioner;
A tyrant at a forfeiture; greedy of others’
Miseries; one that would undo his brother,
Nay, swallow up his father, if he can, 215
Within the fathoms of his conscience.
_1 Gent._ Nay, believe it, widow,
You had not only matcht yourself to wants,
But in an evil and unnatural stock.
_Hoa._ [_Aside to_ Gent.] Follow hard, gentlemen, follow hard. 220
_Cour._ Is my love so deceiv’d? Before you all
I do renounce him; on my knees I vow
He ne’er shall marry me.
_Wit._ [_looking in._] Heaven knows he never meant it!
_Hoa._ [_Aside to_ Gent.] There take her at the bound. 225
1 _Gent._ Then, with a new and pure affection,
Behold yon gentleman; grave, kind, and rich,
A match worthy yourself: esteeming him,
You do regard your state.
_Hoa._ [_Aside to_ Gent.] I ’ll make her a jointure, say. 230
1 _Gent._ He can join land to land, and will possess you
Of what you can desire.
2 _Gent._ Come, widow, come.
_Cour._ The world is so deceitful!
1 _Gent._ There, ’t is deceitful,
Where flattery, want, and imperfection lies;
But none of these in him: push!
_Cour._ Pray, sir—— 235
1 _Gent._ Come, you widows are ever most backward when you should do
yourselves most good; but were it to marry a chin not worth a hair
now, then you would be forward enough. Come, clap hands, a match. 240
_Hoa._ With all my heart, widow. [HOARD _and_ Courtesan _shake
hands_.]—Thanks, gentlemen:
I will deserve your labour, and [_to_ Courtesan] thy love.
_Cour._ Alas, you love not widows but for wealth!
I promise you I ha’ nothing, sir.
_Hoa._ Well said, widow,
Well said; thy love is all I seek, before 245
These gentlemen.
_Cour._ Now I must hope the best.
_Hoa._ My joys are such they want to be exprest.
_Cour._ But, Master Hoard, one thing I must remember you of, before
these gentlemen, your friends: how shall I suddenly avoid the 250
loathed soliciting of that perjur’d Witgood, and his tedious,
dissembling uncle? who this very day hath appointed a meeting for the
same purpose too; where, had not truth come forth, I had been undone,
utterly undone! 255
_Hoa._ What think you of that, gentlemen?
1 _Gent._ ’T was well devised.
_Hoa._ Hark thee, widow: train[3850] out young Witgood single;
hasten him thither with thee, somewhat before the hour; where, at
the (260) place appointed, these gentlemen and myself will wait
the opportunity, when, by some slight removing him from thee, we
’ll suddenly enter and surprise thee, carry thee away by boat to
Cole-Harbour, have a priest ready, and there (265) clap it up
instantly. How likest it, widow?
_Cour._ In that it pleaseth you, it likes me well.
_Hoa._ I ’ll kiss thee for those words. Come, gentlemen,
Still must I live a suitor to your favours,
Still to your aid beholding. 270
1 _Gent._ We ’re engag’d, sir;
’T is for our credits now to see ’t well ended.
_Hoa._ ’T is for your honours, gentlemen; nay, look to ’t.
Not only in joy, but I in wealth excel:
No more sweet widow, but, sweet wife, farewell. 275
_Cour._ Farewell, sir.
_Exeunt_ [HOARD _and_ Gentlemen].
_Re-enter_ WITGOOD.
_Wit._ O for more scope! I could laugh eternally! Give you joy,
Mistress Hoard, I promise your fortune was good, forsooth; you ’ve
fell upon wealth enough, and there ’s young (280) gentlemen enow can
help you to the rest. Now, it requires our wits: carry thyself but
heedfully now, and we are both——
[_Re-enter_ Host.]
_Host._ Master Witgood, your uncle. 284
_Wit._ Cuds me![3851]—remove thyself awhile; I ’ll serve for him.
[_Exeunt_ Courtesan _and_ Host.]
_Enter_ LUCRE.
_Luc._ Nephew, good morning, nephew.
_Wit._ The same to you, kind uncle.
_Luc._ How fares the widow? Does the meeting hold?
_Wit._ O, no question of that, sir. 290
_Luc._ I ’ll strike the stroke, then, for thee; no more days.[3852]
_Wit._ The sooner the better, uncle. O, she ’s mightily follow’d!
_Luc._ And yet so little rumour’d! 295
_Wit._ Mightily, here comes one old gentleman, and he ’ll make her a
jointure of three hundred a year, forsooth; another wealthy suitor
will estate his son in his lifetime, and make him weigh down the
widow; here a (300) merchant’s son will possess her with no less than
three goodly lordships at once, which were all pawns to his father.
_Luc._ Peace, nephew, let me hear no more of ’em; it mads me. Thou
shalt prevent[3853] ’em (305) all. No words to the widow of my coming
hither. Let me see—’t is now, upon nine: before twelve, nephew, we
will have the bargain struck, we will, faith, boy. 309
_Wit._ O, my precious uncle! _Exeunt._
[SCENE II.][3854]
_Enter_ HOARD _and_ Niece [JOYCE].
_Hoa._ Niece, sweet niece, prithee, have a care to my house; I leave
all to thy discretion. Be content to dream awhile; I ’ll have a
husband for thee shortly: put that care upon me, wench, for in
choosing wives and husbands I am only (5) fortunate; I have that gift
given me. _Exit._
_Joy._ But ’t is not likely you should choose for me,
Since nephew to your chiefest enemy
Is he whom I affect: but, O, forgetful!
Why dost thou flatter thy affections so, 10
With name of him that for a widow’s bed
Neglects thy purer love? Can it be so,
Or does report dissemble?
[_Enter_ GEORGE.]
How, now, sir?
_Geo._ A letter, with which came a private charge.
_Joy._ Therein I thank your care. [_Exit_ GEORGE.]
—I know this hand— 15
(_Reads._) Dearer than sight, what the world reports of me, yet
believe not; rumour will alter shortly: be thou constant; I am still
the same that I was in love, and I hope to be the same in fortunes. 20
Theodorus Witgood.
I am resolv’d:[3855] no more shall fear or doubt
Raise their pale powers to keep affection out. _Exit._
[SCENE III.][3856]
_Enter_, _with a_ Drawer, HOARD _and two_ Gentlemen.
_Dra._ You ’re very welcome, gentlemen.— Dick, show those gentlemen
the Pomegranate[3857] there.
_Hoa._ Hist!
_Dra._ Up those stairs, gentlemen. 5
_Hoa._ Hist! drawer!
_Dra._ Anon, sir.
_Hoa._ Prithee, ask at the bar if a gentlewoman came not in lately.
_Dra._ William, at the bar, did you see any (10) gentlewoman come in
lately? Speak you ay, speak you no?
_Within._ No, none came in yet, but Mistress Florence.
_Dra._ He says none came in yet, sir, but one (15) Mistress Florence.
_Hoa._ What is that Florence? A widow?
_Dra._ Yes, a Dutch widow.
_Hoa._ How? 19
_Dra._ That ’s an English drab, sir: give your worship good morrow.
[_Exit._]
_Hoa._ A merry knave, i’ faith! I shall remember a Dutch widow the
longest day of my life.
_1 Gent._ Did not I use most art to win the widow? 25
_2 Gent._ You shall pardon me for that, sir; Master Hoard knows I
took her at best ’vantage.
_Hoa._ What ’s that, sweet gentlemen, what ’s that? 30
_2 Gent._ He will needs bear me down, that his art only wrought with
the widow most.
_Hoa._ O, you did both well, gentlemen, you did both well, I thank
you.
_1 Gent._ I was the first that mov’d her. 35
_Hoa._ You were, i’faith.
_2 Gent._ But it was I that took her at the bound.
_Hoa._ Ay, that was you: faith, gentlemen, ’t is right.
_3 Gent._ I boasted least, but ’t was I join’d their hands.
_Hoa._ By th’ mass, I think he did: you did all well, 40
Gentlemen, you did all well: contend no more.
_1 Gent._ Come, yon room ’s fittest.
_Hoa._ True, ’t is next the door. _Exeunt._
_Enter_ WITGOOD, Courtesan, Host [_and_ Drawer].
_Dra._ You ’re very welcome: please you to walk up stairs; cloth ’s
laid, sir. 45
_Cour._ Up stairs? Troth, I am very weary, Master Witgood.
_Wit._ Rest yourself here awhile, widow; we ’ll have a cup of
muscadine in this little room.
_Dra._ A cup of muscadine? You shall have the best, sir. 51
_Wit._ But, do you hear, sirrah?
_Dra._ Do you call? Anon, sir.
_Wit._ What is there provided for dinner?
_Dra._ I cannot readily tell you, sir: if you please you may go into
the kitchen and see (56) yourself, sir: many gentlemen of worship do
use to do it, I assure you, sir. _Exit._
_Host._ A pretty familiar, prigging rascal; he has his part without
book. 60
_Wit._ Against you are ready to drink to me, widow, I ’ll be present
to pledge you.
_Cour._ Nay. I commend your care, ’t is done well of you. [_Exit_
WITGOOD.]—’Las, what have I forgot! 65
_Host._ What, mistress?
_Cour._ I slipt my wedding ring off when I washt, and left it at my
lodging. Prithee, run; I shall be sad without it. [_Exit_ Host.]—So,
he ’s gone. Boy! 70
[_Enter_ Boy.]
_Boy._ Anon, forsooth.
_Cour._ Come hither, sirrah: learn secretly if one Master Hoard, an
ancient gentleman, be about house.
_Boy._ I heard such a one nam’d. 75
_Cour._ Commend me to him.
_Re-enter_ HOARD _and_ Gentlemen.
_Hoa._ Ay, boy, do thy commendations.
_Cour._ O! you come well: away, to boat, be gone.
_Hoa._ Thus wise men are reveng’d, give two for one. _Exeunt._
_Re-enter_ WITGOOD _and_ Vintner.
_Wit._ I must request 80
You, sir, to show extraordinary care:
My uncle comes with gentlemen, his friends.
And ’t is upon a making.[3858]
_Vin._ Is it so?
I ’ll give a special charge, good Master Witgood.
May I be bold to see her?
_Wit._ Who? the widow? 85
With all my heart, i’ faith, I ’ll bring you to her.
_Vin._ If she be a Staffordshire gentlewoman, ’t is much if I know
her not.
_Wit._ How now? Boy! drawer!
_Vin._ Hie! 90
[_Re-enter_ Boy.]
_Boy._ Do you call, sir?
_Wit._ Went the gentlewoman up that was here?
_Boy._ Up, sir? She went out, sir.
_Wit._ Out, sir? 95
_Boy._ Out, sir: one Master Hoard, with a guard of gentlemen, carried
her out at back door, a pretty while since, sir.
_Wit._ Hoard? Death and darkness! Hoard?
[_Re-enter_ Host.]
_Host._ The devil of ring I can find. 100
_Wit._ How now? What news? Where ’s the widow?
_Host._ My mistress? Is she not here, sir?
_Wit._ More madness yet!
_Host._ She sent me for a ring. 105
_Wit._ A plot, a plot!—To boat! She ’s stole away.
_Host._ What?
_Enter_ LUCRE _and_ Gentlemen.
_Wit._ Follow! Inquire old Hoard, my uncle’s adversary. [_Exit_ Host.]
_Luc._ Nephew, what ’s that? 110
_Wit._ Thrice-miserable wretch!
_Luc._ Why, what ’s the matter?
_Vin._ The widow ’s borne away, sir.
_Luc._ Ha? passion of me!—A heavy welcome, gentlemen.
_1 Gent._ The widow gone? 115
_Luc._ Who durst attempt it?
_Wit._ Who but old Hoard, my uncle’s adversary?
_Luc._ How?
_Wit._ With his confederates.
_Luc._ Hoard, my deadly-enemy?—Gentlemen, stand to me, 120
I will not bear it; ’t is in hate of me;
That villain seeks my shame, nay, thirsts my blood;
He owes me mortal malice.
I ’ll spend my wealth on this despiteful plot,
Ere he shall cross me and my nephew thus. 125
_Wit._ So maliciously!
_Re-enter_ Host.
_Luc._ How now, you treacherous rascal?
_Host._ That ’s none of my name, sir.
_Wit._ Poor soul, he knew not on ’t!
_Luc._ I ’m sorry. I see then ’t was a mere plot.
_Host._ I trac’d ’em nearly——
_Luc._ Well?
_Host._ And hear for certain 131
They have took Cole-Harbour.
_Luc._ The devil’s sanctuary!
They shall not rest; I ’ll pluck her from his arms—
Kind and dear gentlemen,
It ever I had seats within your breasts—— 135
_1 Gent._ No more, good sir; it is a wrong to us
To see you injur’d; in a cause so just
We ’ll spend our lives but we will right our friends.
_Luc._ Honest and kind! come we ’ve delay’d too long;
Nephew, take comfort; a just cause is strong.
_Exeunt_ [_all but_ WITGOOD]. 140
_Wit._ That ’s all my comfort, uncle. Ha, ha, ha!
Now may events fall luckily and well;
He that ne’er strives, says wit, shall ne’er excel. [_Exit._]
[SCENE IV.][3859]
_Enter_ DAMPIT, _the usurer_, _drunk_.
_Dam._ When did I say my prayers? In anno 88, when the great armada
was coming; and in anno 99, when the great thunder and lightning
was, I pray’d heartily then, i’ faith, to overthrow Poovies’ new
buildings; I kneeled by (5) my great iron chest, I remember.
[_Enter_ AUDREY.]
_Aud._ Master Dampit, one may hear you before they see you: you keep
sweet hours, Master Dampit; we were all a-bed three hours ago.
_Dam._ Audrey? 10
_Aud._ O, you ’re a fine gentleman!
_Dam._ So I am i’ faith, and a fine scholar. Do you use to go to bed
so early, Audrey?
_Aud._ Call you this early, Master Dampit?
_Dam._ Why, is ’t not one of clock i’ th’ (15) morning? Is not that
early enough? Fetch me a glass of fresh beer.
_Aud._ Here, I have warm’d your nightcap for you, Master Dampit.
_Dam._ Draw it on then. I am very weak (20) truly. I have not eaten so
much as the bulk of an egg these three days.
_Aud._ You have drunk the more, Master Dampit.
_Dam._ What ’s that? 25
_Aud._ You mought,[3860] an you would, Master Dampit.
_Dam._ I answer you, I cannot. Hold your prating; you prate too much,
and understand too little: are you answered? Give me a glass (30) of
beer.
_Aud._ May I ask you how you do, Master Dampit?
_Dam._ How do I? I’ faith, naught.
_Aud._ I ne’er knew you do otherwise. 35
_Dam._ I eat not one pen’north of bread these two years. Give me a
glass of fresh beer. I am not sick, nor I am not well.
_Aud._ Take this warm napkin about your neck, sir, whilst I help to
make you unready.[3861]
_Dam._ How now, Audrey-prater, with your scurvy devices, what say you
now? 42
_Aud._ What say I, Master Dampit? I say nothing, but that you are
very weak.
_Dam._ Faith, thou hast more cony-catching[3862] (45) devices than
all London.
_Aud._ Why, Master Dampit, I never deceiv’d you in all my life.
_Dam._ Why was that? Because I never did trust thee. 50
_Aud._ I care not what you say, Master Dampit.
_Dam._ Hold thy prating: I answer thee, thou art a beggar, a quean,
and a bawd: are you answer’d? 55
_Aud._ Fie, Master Dampit! a gentleman, and have such words?
_Dam._ Why, thou base drudge of infortunity, thou kitchen-stuff-drab
of beggary, roguery, and coxcombry, thou cavernesed quean of 60
foolery, knavery, and bawdreaminy, I ’ll tell thee what, I will not
give a louse for thy fortunes.
_Aud._ No, Master Dampit? and there ’s a gentleman comes a-wooing to
me, and he doubts[3863] (65) nothing but that you will get me from
him.
_Dam._ I? If I would either have thee or lie with thee for two
thousand pound, would I might be damn’d! Why, thou base, impudent
quean of foolery, flattery, and coxcombry, are (70) you answer’d?
_Aud._ Come, will you rise and go to bed, sir?
_Dam._ Rise, and go to bed too, Audrey? How does Mistress Proserpine?
_Aud._ Fooh! 75
_Dam._ She ’s as fine a philosopher of a stinkard’s wife, as any
within the liberties. Faugh, faugh, Audrey!
_Aud._ How now, Master Dampit?
_Dam._ Fie upon ’t, what a choice of stinks (80) here is! What hast
thou done, Audrey? Fie upon ’t, here ’s a choice of stinks indeed!
Give me a glass of fresh beer, and then I will to bed.
_Aud._ It waits for you above, sir. 85
_Dam._ Foh! I think they burn horns in Barnard’s Inn. If ever I smelt
such an abominable stink, usury forsake me. [_Exit._]
_Aud._ They be the stinking nails of his trampling feet, and he talks
of burning horns. _Exit._
ACT IV
[SCENE I.]
_Enter at Cole-Harbour_ HOARD, the Widow, [LAMPREY, SPICHCOCK,] _and_
Gentlemen, _he married now_.
1 [_Gent._] Join hearts, join hands,
In wedlock’s bands,
Never to part
Till death cleave your heart.
[_To_ HOARD.] You shall forsake all other women; 5
[_To_ Courtesan.] You lords, knights, gentlemen, and yeomen,
What my tongue slips
Make up with your lips.
_Hoa._ Give you joy, Mistress Hoard; let the kiss come about.
[_Knocking._]
Who knocks? Convey my little pig-eater[3864] out.
_Luc._ [_within._] Hoard! 11
_Hoa._ Upon my life, my adversary, gentlemen!
_Luc._ [_within._] Hoard, open the door, or we will force it ope:
Give us the widow.
_Hoa._ Gentlemen, keep ’em out.
_Lam._ He comes upon his death that enters here. 15
_Luc._ [_within._] My friends, assist me!
_Hoa._ He has assistants, gentlemen.
_Lam._ Tut, nor him nor them we in this action fear.
_Luc._ [_within._] Shall I, in peace, speak one word with the widow?
_Cour._ Husband, and gentlemen, hear me but a word.
_Hoa._ Freely, sweet wife.
_Cour._ Let him in peaceably; 20
You know we ’re sure from any act of his.
_Hoa._ Most true.
[_Cour._][3865] You may stand by and smile at his old weakness:
Let me alone to answer him.
_Hoa._ Content; 25
’T will be good mirth, i’ faith. How think you, gentlemen?
_Lam._ Good gullery!
_Hoa._ Upon calm conditions let him in.
_Luc._ [_within._] All spite and malice!
_Lam._ Hear me, Master Lucre: 30
So you will vow a peaceful entrance
With those your friends, and only exercise
Calm conference with the widow, without fury,
The passage shall receive you.
_Enter_ LUCRE, [Gentlemen, _and_ Host.]
_Luc._ I do vow it.
_Lam._ Then enter and talk freely: here she stands. 35
_Luc._ O, Master Hoard, your spite has watcht the hour!
You’re excellent at vengeance, Master Hoard.
_Hoa._ Ha, ha, ha!
_Luc._ I am the fool you laugh at:
You are wise, sir, and know the seasons well.—
Come hither, widow: why is it thus? 41
O, you have done me infinite disgrace,
And your own credit no small injury!
Suffer mine enemy so despitefully
To bear you from my nephew? O, I had 45
Rather half my substance had been forfeit
And begg’d by some starv’d rascal!
_Cour._ Why, what would you wish me do, sir?
I must not overthrow my state for love:
We have too many precedents for that; 50
From thousands of our wealthy undone widows
One may derive some wit. I do confess
I lov’d your nephew, nay, I did affect him
Against the mind and liking of my friends;
Believ’d his promises; lay here in hope 55
Of flatter’d living, and the boast of lands.
Coming to touch his wealth and state indeed,
It appears dross; I find him not the man;
Imperfect, mean, scarce furnisht of his needs:
In words, fair lordships; in performance, hovels:
Can any woman love the thing that is not? 61
_Luc._ Broke you for this?
_Cour._ Was it not cause too much?
Send to inquire his state: most part of it
Lay two years mortgag’d in his uncle’s hands.
_Luc._ Why, say it did, you might have known my mind: 66
I could have soon restor’d it.
_Cour._ Ay, had I but seen any such thing perform’d,
Why, ’t would have tied my affection, and contain’d
Me in my first desires. Do you think, i’ faith, 70
That I could twine such a dry oak as this,
Had promise in your nephew took effect?
_Luc._ Why, and there ’s no time past; and rather than
My adversary should thus thwart my hopes,
I would—— 75
_Cour._ Tut, you ’ve been ever full of golden speech:
If words were lands, your nephew would be rich.
_Luc._ Widow, believe ’t, I vow by my best bliss,
Before these gentlemen, I will give in
The mortgage to my nephew instantly, 80
Before I sleep or eat.
_1 Gent._ [_friend to_ LUCRE.] We ’ll pawn our credits,
Widow, what he speaks shall be perform’d
In fulness.
_Luc._ Nay, more; I will estate him
In farther blessings; he shall be my heir;
I have no son; 85
I ’ll bind myself to that condition.
_Cour._ When I shall hear this done, I shall soon yield
To reasonable terms.
_Luc._ In the mean season,
Will you protest, before these gentlemen, 89
To keep yourself as you ’re now at this present?
_Cour._ I do protest, before these gentlemen,
I will be as clear then as I am now.
_Luc._ I do believe you. Here’s your own honest servant,
I ’ll take him along with me.
_Cour._ Ay, with all my heart.
_Luc._ He shall see all perform’d, and bring you word. 95
_Cour._ That ’s all I wait for.
_Hoa._ What, have you finisht, Master Lucre? Ha, ha, ha, ha!
_Luc._ So laugh, Hoard, laugh at your poor enemy, do;
The wind may turn, you may be laught at too;
Yes, marry may you, sir.—Ha, ha, ha! 100
_Exeunt_ [LUCRE, Gentlemen, _and_ Host].
_Hoa._ Ha, ha, ha! if every man that swells in malice
Could be reveng’d as happily as I,
He would choose hate, and forswear amity.—
What did he say, wife, prithee?
_Cour._ Faith, spoke to ease his mind.
_Hoa._ O, O, O! 105
_Cour._ You know now, little to any purpose.
_Hoa._ True, true, true!
_Cour._ He would do mountains now.
_Hoa._ Ay, ay, ay, ay.
_Lam._ You ’ve struck him dead, Master Hoard.
_Hoa._ And his nephew desperate.
_Hoa._ I know ’t sirs, I.
Never did man so crush his enemy. _Exeunt._ 110
[SCENE II.][3866]
_Enter_ LUCRE, Gentlemen, [_and_ Host,] _meeting_ SAM FREEDOM.
_Luc._ My son-in-law, Sam Freedom, where ’s my nephew?
_Free._ O man in lamentation,[3867] father.
_Luc._ How!
_Free._ He thumps his breast like a gallant dicer that has lost his
doublet, and stands (5) in ’s shirt to do penance.
_Luc._ Alas, poor gentleman!
_Free._ I warrant you may hear him sigh in a still evening to your
house at Highgate.
_Luc._ I prithee send him in. 10
_Free._ Were it to do a greater matter, I will not stick with you,
sir, in regard you married my mother. [_Exit._]
_Luc._ Sweet gentlemen, cheer him up; I will but fetch the mortgage
and return to you (15) instantly. _Exit._
1 [_Gent._] We ’ll do our best, sir.—See where he comes,
E’en joyless and regardless of all form.
[_Enter_ WITGOOD.]
2 [_Gent._] Why, how now. Master Witgood? Fie! you a firm scholar,
and an understanding (20) gentleman, and give your best parts to
passion?[3868]
_1 Gent._ Come, fie fie!
_Wit._ O, gentlemen——
_1 Gent._ Sorrow of me, what a sigh was there, sir! 25
Nine such widows are not worth it.
_Wit._ To be borne from me by that lecher, Hoard!
_1 Gent._ That vengeance is your uncle’s; being done
More in despite to him than wrong to you:
But we bring comfort now.
_Wit._ I beseech you, gentlemen—— 30
_2 Gent._ Cheer thyself, man; there ’s hope of her, i’ faith.
_Wit._ Too gladsome to be true.
_Re-enter_ LUCRE.
_Luc._ Nephew, what cheer?
Alas, poor gentleman, how art thou chang’d!
Call thy fresh blood into thy cheeks again:
She comes.
_Wit._ Nothing afflicts me so much, 35
But that it is your adversary, uncle,
And merely plotted in despite of you.
_Luc._ Ay, that ’s it mads me, spites me! I ’ll spend my wealth ere
he shall carry her so, because I know ’t is only to spite me. Ay,
this (40) is it. Here, nephew [_giving a paper_], before these kind
gentlemen, I deliver in your mortgage, my promise to the widow; see,
’t is done. Be wise, you ’re once more master of your own. The widow
shall perceive now you are not (45) altogether such a beggar as the
world reputes you; you can make shift to bring her to three hundred
a-year, sir.
1 _Gent._ By’rlady, and that ’s no toy, sir.
_Luc._ A word, nephew. 50
1 _Gent._ [_to_ Host.] Now you may certify the widow.
_Luc._ You must conceive it aright, nephew, now;
To do you good I am content to do this.
_Wit._ I know it, sir. 55
_Luc._ But your own conscience can tell I had it
Dearly enough of you.
_Wit._ Ay, that ’s most certain.
_Luc._ Much money laid out, beside many a journey
To fetch the rent; I hope you ’ll think on ’t, nephew.
_Wit._ I were worse than a beast else, i’ faith.
_Luc._ Although to blind the widow and the world, 61
I out of policy do ’t, yet there ’s a conscience, nephew.
_Wit._ Heaven forbid else!
_Luc._ When you are full possest,
’T is nothing to return it.
_Wit._ Alas, a thing quickly done, uncle! 65
_Luc._ Well said! you know I give it you but in trust.
_Wit._ Pray, let me understand you rightly, uncle:
You give it me but in trust?
_Luc._ No.
_Wit._ That is, you trust me with it? 70
_Luc._ True, true.
_Wit._ [_Aside._] But if ever I trust you with it again,
Would I might be truss’d up for my labour!
_Luc._ You can all witness, gentlemen; and you, sir yeoman? 75
_Host._ My life for yours, sir, now, I know my mistress’s mind too
well toward your nephew; let things be in preparation; and I ’ll
train her hither in most excellent fashion. _Exit._
_Luc._ A good old boy!—Wife! Jenny! 80
_Enter_ Wife.
_Mis. L._ What ’s the news, sir?
_Luc._ The wedding-day ’s at hand: prithee, sweet wife, express thy
housewifery. Thou ’rt a fine cook, I know ’t; thy first husband
married thee out of an alderman’s kitchen; go (85) to, he rais’d
thee for raising of paste. What! here ’s none but friends; most of
our beginnings must be winkt at.—Gentlemen, I invite you all to my
nephew’s wedding against Thursday morning. 90
1 _Gent._ With all our hearts, and we shall joy to see
Your enemy so mockt.
_Luc._ He laught at me, gentlemen; ha, ha, ha!
_Exeunt_ [_all but_ WITGOOD].
_Wit._ He has no conscience, faith, would laugh at them:
They laugh at one another; 95
Who then can be so cruel? Troth, not I;
I rather pity now, than ought envy.
I do conceive such joy in mine own happiness,
I have no leisure yet to laugh at their follies.
Thou soul of my estate, I kiss thee! 100
[_To the mortgage._]
I miss life’s comfort when I miss thee
O, never will we part again,
Until I leave the site of men!
We ’ll ne’er trust conscience of our kin,
Since cozenage brings that title in. _Exit._ 105
[SCENE III.][3869]
_Enter three_ Creditors.
_1 Cred._ I ’ll wait these seven hours but I ’ll see him caught.
_2 Cred._ Faith, so will I.
_3 Cred._ Hang him, prodigal! He’s stript of the widow. 5
_1 Cred._ A’ my troth, she’s the wiser; she has made the happier
choice: and I wonder of what stuff those widows’ hearts are made of,
that will marry unfledg’d boys before comely thrum-chinn’d[3870]
gentlemen. 10
_Enter_ Boy.
_Boy._ News, news, news!
_1 Cred._ What, boy?
_Boy._ The rioter is caught.
_1 Cred._ So, so, so, so! it warms me at the heart;
I love a’ life to see dogs upon men. 15
O, here he comes.
_Enter_ WITGOOD, _with_ Sergeants.
_Wit._ My last joy was so great, it took away the sense of all future
afflictions. What a day is here o’ercast! How soon a black tempest
rises!
_1 Cred._ O, we may speak with you now, (20) sir! What ’s become of
your rich widow? I think you may cast your cap at the widow, may you
not, sir?
_2 Cred._ He a rich widow? Who, a prodigal, a daily rioter, and
a nightly vomiter? He a (25) widow of account? He a hole i’ th’
Counter.[3871]
_Wit._ You do well, my masters, to tyrannise over misery, to afflict
the afflicted; ’t is a custom you have here amongst you; I would wish
you never leave it, and I hope you ’ll do as I bid you. 31
_1 Cred._ Come, come, sir, what say you extempore now to your bill of
a hundred pound? A sweet debt for froating[3872] your doublets?
_2 Cred._ Here ’s mine of forty. 35
_3 Cred._ Here ’s mine of fifty.
_Wit._ Pray, sirs,—you ’ll give me breath?
_1 Cred._ No, sir, we ’ll keep you out of breath still; then we shall
be sure you will not run away from us. 40
_Wit._ Will you but hear me speak?
_2 Cred._ You shall pardon us for that, sir; we know you have too
fair a tongue of your own; you overcame us too lately, a shame take
you! We are like to lose all that for want of witnesses; (45) we
dealt in policy then: always when we strive to be most politic we
prove most coxcombs: _non plus ultra_ I perceive by us, we ’re not
ordain’d to thrive by wisdom, and therefore we must be content to be
tradesmen. 50
_Wit._ Give me but reasonable time, and I protest I ’ll make you
ample satisfaction.
_1 Cred._ Do you talk of reasonable time to us?
_Wit._ ’T is true, beasts know no reasonable time. 56
_2 Cred._ We must have either money or carcass.
_Wit._ Alas, what good will my carcass do you?
_3 Cred._ O, ’t is a secret delight we have (60) amongst us! We
that are us’d to keep birds in cages, have the heart to keep men in
prison, I warrant you.
_Wit._ [_Aside._] I perceive I must crave a tittle more aid from my
wits: do but make shift for (65) me this once, and I ’ll forswear
ever to trouble you in the like fashion hereafter; I ’ll have better
employment for you, an I live.—You ’ll give me leave, my masters, to
make trial of my friends, and raise all means I can? 70
_1 Cred._ That ’s our desires, sir.
_Enter_ HOST.
_Host._ Master Witgood.
_Wit._ O, art thou come?
_Host._ May I speak one word with you in private, sir? 75
_Wit._ No, by my faith, canst thou; I am in hell here, and the devils
will not let me come to thee.
_1 Cred._ Do you call us devils? You shall find us puritans.—Bear
him away; let (80) ’em talk as they go: we ’ll not stand to hear
’em.—Ah, sir, am I a devil? I shall think the better of myself as
long as I live: a devil, i’faith! _Exeunt._
[SCENE IV.][3873]
_Enter_ HOARD.
_Hoa._ What a sweet blessing hast thou, Master Hoard, above a
multitude! Wilt thou never be thankful? How dost thou think to be
blest another time? Or dost thou count this the full measure of thy
happiness? By my troth, I (5) think thou dost: not only a wife large
in possessions, but spacious in content; she ’s rich, she ’s young,
she ’s fair, she ’s wise. When I wake, I think of her lands—that
revives me; when I go to bed, I dream of her beauty—and that ’s 10
enough for me: she’s worth four hundred a-year in her very smock,
if a man knew how to use it. But the journey will be all, in troth,
into the country; to ride to her lands in state and order following;
my brother, and other worshipful (15) gentlemen, whose companies I
ha’ sent down for already, to ride along with us in their goodly
decorum beards, their broad velvet cassocks, and chains of gold twice
or thrice double; against which time I ’ll entertain some ten 20
men of mine own into liveries, all of occupations or qualities; I
will not keep an idle man about me: the sight of which will so vex
my adversary Lucre—for we ’ll pass by his door a’ purpose, make a
little stand for [the] nonce, and have (25) our horses curvet before
the window—certainly he will never endure it, but run up and hang
himself presently.
[_Enter_ Servant.]
How now, sirrah, what news? Any that offer their service to me yet? 30
_Ser._ Yes, sir, there are some i’ th’ hall that wait for your
worship’s liking, and desire to be entertain’d.
_Hoa._ Are they of occupation?
_Ser._ They are men fit for your worship, sir. 35
_Hoa._ Sayest so? Send ’em all in. [_Exit_ Servant.]—To see ten men
ride after me in watchet[3874] liveries, with orange-tawny capes,—’t
will cut his comb, i’ faith.
_Enter All_ [Tailor, Barber, Perfumer, Falconer, _and_ Huntsman].
How now? Of what occupation are you, sir? 40
_Tai._ A tailor, an ’t please your worship.
_Hoa._ A tailor? O, very good: you shall serve to make all the
liveries.—What are you, sir?
_Bar._ A barber, sir.
_Hoa._ A barber? very needful: you shall shave all the house, and,
if need require, stand for (46) a reaper i’ th’ summer time.—You,
sir?
_Per._ A perfumer.
_Hoa._ I smelt you before. Perfumers, of all men, had need carry
themselves uprightly; (50) for if they were once knaves, they would
be smelt out quickly.—To you, sir?
_Fal._ A falconer, an ’t please your worship.
_Hoa._ Sa ho, sa ho, sa ho![3875]—And you, sir?
_Hunt._ A huntsman, sir. 55
_Hoa._ There, boy, there, boy, there, boy![3876] I am not so old
but I have pleasant days to come. I promise, you, my masters, [I
take such a good liking to you, that I entertain you all;] I put
you already into my countenance, and you (60) shall be shortly in
my livery; but especially you two, my jolly falconer and my bonny
huntsman; we shall have most need of you at my wife’s manor-houses
i’ th’ country; there’s goodly parks and champion[3877] grounds for
you; we (65) shall have all our sports within ourselves; all the
gentlemen a’ th’ country shall be beholding to us and our pastimes.
_Fal._ And we ’ll make your worship admire, sir. 70
_Hoa._ Sayest thou so? Do but make me admire, and thou shall want for
nothing.—My tailor.
_Tai._ Anon, sir.
_Hoa._ Go presently in hand with the liveries. 75
_Tai._ I will, sir.
_Hoa._ My barber.
_Bar._ Here, sir.
_Hoa._ Make ’em all trim fellows, louse ’em well,—especially my
huntsman,—and cut (80) all their beards of the Polonian fashion.—My
perfumer.
_Per._ Under your nose, sir.
_Hoa._ Cast a better savour upon the knaves, to take away the scent
of my tailor’s feet, and my barber’s lotium-water. 86
_Per._ It shall be carefully perform’d, sir.
_Hoa._ But you, my falconer and huntsman, the welcom’st men alive, i’
faith!
_Hunt._ And we ’ll show you that, sir, shall (90) deserve your
worship’s favour.
_Hoa._ I prithee, show me that.—Go, you knaves all, and wash
your lungs i’ th’ buttery, go. [_Exeunt_ Tailor, Barber, &c.]—By
th’ mass, and well rememb’red! I ’ll ask my wife (95) that
question.—Wife, Mistress Jane Hoard!
_Enter_ Courtesan, _alter’d in apparel_.
_Cour._ Sir, would you with me?
_Hoa._ I would but know, sweet wife, which might stand best to thy
liking, to have the wedding dinner kept here or i’ th’ country? 100
_Cour._ Hum:—faith, sir, ’t would like me better here; here you were
married, here let all rites be ended.
_Hoa._ Could a marquesse[3878] give a better answer? Hoard, bear thy
head aloft, thou ’st a wife will advance it. 106
_Enter_ Host _with a letter_.
What haste comes here now? Yea, a letter? Some dreg of my adversary’s
malice. Come hither; what ’s the news? 109
_Host._ A thing that concerns my mistress, sir.
_Giving a letter to_ Courtesan.
_Hoa._ Why then it concerns me, knave.
_Host._ Ay, and you, knave, too (cry your worship mercy). You
are both like to come into trouble, I promise you, sir; a
pre-contract.[3879]
_Hoa._ How? a pre-contract, sayest thou? 115
_Host._ I fear they have too much proof on ’t, sir: old Lucre, he
runs mad up and down, and will to law as fast as he can; young
Witgood laid hold on by his creditors, he exclaims (119) upon you a’
t’ other side, says you have wrought his undoing by the injurious
detaining of his contract.
_Hoa._ Body a’ me!
_Host._ He will have utmost satisfaction: The law shall give him
recompense, he says. 125
_Cour._ [_Aside._] Alas, his creditors so merciless! my state being
yet uncertain, I deem it not unconscionable to further him.
_Host._ True, sir.
_Hoa._ Wife, what says that letter? Let me construe it. 131
_Cour._ Curst be my rash and unadvised words!
[_Tears the letter and stamps on it._]
I ’ll set my foot upon my tongue.
And tread my inconsiderate grant to dust.
_Hoa._ Wife—— 135
_Host._ [_Aside._] A pretty shift, i’ faith! I commend a woman when
she can make away a letter from her husband handsomely, and this was
cleanly done, by my troth.
_Cour._ I did, sir; 140
Some foolish words I must confess did pass,
Which now litigiously he fastens on me.
_Hoa._ Of what force? Let me examine ’em.
_Cour._ Too strong, I fear: would I were well freed of him! 145
_Hoa._ Shall I compound?
_Cour._ No, sir, I ’d have it done some nobler way
Of your side; I ’d have you come off with honour;
Let baseness keep with them. Why, have you not
The means, sir? The occasion’s offer’d you. 150
_Hoa._ Where, how, dear wife?
_Cour._ He is now caught by his creditors; the slave’s needy; his
debts petty; he ’ll rather bind himself to all inconveniences than
rot in prison; by this only means you may get a release from him.
’T is not yet come to his uncle’s (156) hearing; send speedily for
the creditors; by this time he ’s desperate; he ’ll set his hand to
anything: take order for his debts, or discharge ’em quite: a pax on
him, let ’s be rid of a rascal! 161
_Hoa._ Excellent!
Thou dost astonish me,—Go, run, make haste;
Bring both the creditors and Witgood hither.
_Host._ [_Aside._] This will be some revenge yet. [_Exit._]
_Hoa._ In the mean space I ’ll have a release drawn.— 166
Within there!
[_Enter_ Servant.]
[_Ser._] Sir?
_Hoa._ Sirrah, come take direction; go to my scrivener.