Act V, Scene III — [3779]…

Act V, 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

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Act V, 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.

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Act V, 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

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Act V, 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

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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.

Cour. [Aside, while HOARD gives directions to the Servant.] I ’m yet like those whose riches lie in dreams, 170 If I be wakt, they ’re false; such is my fate, Who venture deeper than the desperate state. Though I have sinn’d, yet could I become new, For where I once vow, I am ever true.

Hoa. Away, despatch, on my displeasure quickly. 175 [Exit Servant.] Happy occasion! pray Heaven he be in the right vein now to set his hand to ’t, that nothing alter him; grant that all his follies may meet in him at once, to besot him enough! I pray for him, i’ faith, and here he comes. 180

[Enter WITGOOD and Creditors.]

Wit. What would you with me now, my uncle’s spiteful adversary?

Hoa. Nay, I am friends.

Wit. Ay, when your mischief ’s spent.

Hoa. I heard you were arrested.

Wit. Well, what then? You will pay none of my debts, I am sure. 185

Hoa. A wise man cannot tell; There may be those conditions ’greed upon May move me to do much.

Wit. Ay, when?— ’T is thou, perjured woman! (O, no name Is vile enough to match thy treachery!) 190 That art the cause of my confusion.

Cour. Out, you penurious slave!

Hoa. Nay, wife, you are too froward; Let him alone; give losers leave to talk.

Wit. Shall I remember thee of another promise Far stronger than the first?

Cour. I ’d fain know that. 195

Wit. ’T would call shame to thy cheeks.

Cour. Shame!

Wit. Hark in your ear.—[They converse apart.] Will he come off, think’st thou, and pay my debts roundly?

Cour. Doubt nothing; there’s a release a-drawing and all, to which you must set your hand. 201

Wit. Excellent!

Cour. But methinks, i’ faith, you might have made some shift to discharge this yourself, having in the mortgage, and never have burd’ned my conscience with it. 206

Wit. A’ my troth, I could not, for my creditors’ cruelties extend to the present.

Cour. No more.— Why, do your worst for that, I defy you. 210

Wit. You ’re impudent: I ’ll call up witnesses.

Cour. Call up thy wits, for thou hast been devoted To follies a long time.

Hoa. Wife, you ’re too bitter.— Master Witgood, and you, my masters, you shall hear a mild speech come from me now, and (215) this it is: ’t has been my fortune, gentlemen, to have an extraordinary blessing poured upon me a’ late, and here she stands; I have wedded her, and bedded her, and yet she is little the worse. Some foolish words she hath past to you in the country, and some peevish[3880] debts you (221) owe here in the city; set the hare’s head to the goose-giblet,[3881] release you her of her words, and I ’ll release you of your debts, sir.

Wit. Would you so? I thank you for that, sir: I cannot blame you, i’ faith. 226

Hoa. Why, are not debts better than words, sir?

Wit. Are not words promises, and are not promises debts, sir? 230

Hoa. [Aside.] He plays at back-racket[3882] with me.

1 Cred. Come hither, Master Witgood, come hither; be rul’d by fools once.

2 Cred. We are citizens, and know what belongs to ’t. 236

1 Cred. Take hold of his offer: pax on her, let her go. If your debts were once discharg’d, I would help you to a widow myself worth ten of her. 240

3 Cred. Mass, partner, and now you remember me on ’t, there ’s Master Mulligrub’s sister newly fallen a widow.

1 Cred. Cuds me, as pat as can be! There ’s a widow left for you; ten thousand in money, beside plate, jewels, et cetera: I warrant it a (246) match; we can do all in all with her. Prithee, despatch; we ’ll carry thee to her presently.

Wit. My uncle will ne’er endure me when he shall hear I set my hand to a release. 250

2 Cred. Hark, I ’ll tell thee a trick for that. I have spent five hundred pound in suits in my time, I should be wise. Thou ’rt now a prisoner; make a release; take ’t of my word, whatsoever a man makes as long as he is in (255) durance, ’t is nothing in law, not thus much. [Snaps his fingers.]

Wit. Say you so, sir?

3 Cred. I have paid for ’t; I know ’t.

Wit. Proceed then; I consent.

3 Cred. Why, well said. 260

Hoa. How now, my masters, what have you done with him?

1 Cred. With much ado, sir, we have got him to consent.

Hoa. Ah—a—a! and what come his debts to now? 266

1 Cred. Some eight score odd pounds, sir.

Hoa. Naw, naw, naw, naw, naw! tell me the second time; give me a lighter sum. They are but desperate debts, you know; ne’er call’d 270 in but upon such an accident; a poor, needy knave, he would starve and rot in prison. Come, come, you shall have ten shillings in the pound, and the sum down roundly.

1 Cred. You must make it a mark, sir. 275

Hoa. Go to then, tell your money in the meantime; you shall find little less there. [Giving them money.]—Come, Master Witgood, you are so unwilling to do yourself good now! [Enter Scrivener.] Welcome, honest scrivener.—Now you shall hear the release read. 281

Scri. [reads.] Be it known to all men, by these presents, that I, Theodorus Witgood, gentleman, sole nephew to Pecunius Lucre, having unjustly made title and claim to one (285) Jane Medler, late widow of Anthony Medler, and now wife to Walkadine Hoard, in consideration of a competent sum of money to discharge my debts, do for ever hereafter disclaim any title, right, estate, or interest in or to (290) the said widow, late in the occupation of the said Anthony Medler, and now in the occupation of Walkadine Hoard; as also neither to lay claim by virtue of any former contract, grant, promise, or demise, to any of her (295) manors, manor-houses, parks, groves, meadowgrounds, arable lands, barns, stacks, stables, dove-holes, and coney-burrows; together with all her cattle, money, plate, jewels, borders, chains, bracelets, furnitures, hangings, 300 moveables or immoveables. In witness whereof, I the said Theodorus Witgood, have interchangeably set to my hand and seal before these presents, the day and date above written.

Wit. What a precious fortune hast thou slipt here, like a beast as thou art! 306

Hoa. Come, unwilling heart, come.

Wit. Well, Master Hoard, give me the pen; I see ’T is vain to quarrel with our destiny. [Signs the paper.]

Hoa. O, as vain a thing as can be! you (310) cannot commit a greater absurdity, sir. So, so; give me that hand now; before all these presents, I am friends for ever with thee.

Wit. Troth, and it were pity of my heart now, if I should bear you any grudge, i’ faith. 315

Hoa. Content: I ’ll send for thy uncle against the wedding dinner; we will be friends once again.

Wit. I hope to bring it to pass myself, sir.

Hoa. How now? Is ’t right, my masters? 320

1 Cred. ’T is something wanting, sir; yet it shall be sufficient.

Hoa. Why, well said; a good conscience makes a fine show now-a-days. Come, my masters, you shall all taste of my wine ere you depart. 326

All. We follow you, sir. [Exeunt HOARD and Scrivener.]

Wit. [Aside.] I ’ll try these fellows now.—A word, sir: what, will you carry me to that widow now? 330

1 Cred. Why, do you think we were in earnest, i’ faith? Carry you to a rich widow? We should get much credit by that: a noted rioter! a contemptible prodigal! ’T was a trick we have amongst us to get in our money: fare you well, sir. Exeunt [Creditors]. 336

Wit. Farewell, and be hang’d, you short pig-hair’d, ram-headed rascals! He that believes in you shall ne’er be sav’d, I warrant him. By this new league I shall have some access unto my love. 341

[JOYCE appears above.]

Joyce. Master Witgood!

Wit. My life!

Joyce. Meet me presently; that note directs you [throws him a letter]: I would not be suspected. (345) Our happiness attends us: farewell.

Wit. A word ’s enough. Exeunt [severally].

[SCENE V.][3883]

DAMPIT the usurer in his bed; AUDREY spinning by; [Boy.]

[Aud. singing.]

Let the usurer cram him, in interest that excel, There ’s pits enow to damn him, before he comes to hell; In Holborn some, in Fleet Street some, Where’er he come there ’s some, there ’s some.

Dam. Trahe, trahito, draw the curtain; give me a sip of sack more. 6

[While he drinks,] enter Gentlemen, [LAMPREY and SPICHCOCK.]

Lam. Look you; did not I tell you he lay like the devil in chains, when he was bound for a thousand year?

Spi. But I think the devil had no steel (10) bedstaffs; he goes beyond him for that.

Lam. Nay, do but mark the conceit of his drinking; one must wipe his mouth for him with a muckinder,[3884] do you see, sir?

Spi. Is this the sick trampler? Why, he (15) is only bed-rid with drinking.

Lam. True, sir. He spies us.

Dam. What, Sir Tristram? You come and see a weak man here, a very weak man.

Lam. If you be weak in body, you should (20) be strong in prayer, sir.

Dam. O, I have prayed too much, poor man!

Lam. There ’s a taste of his soul for you!

Spi. Faugh, loathsome!

Lam. I come to borrow a hundred pound (25) of you, sir.

Dam. Alas, you come at an ill time! I cannot spare it i’ faith; I ha’ but two thousand i’ th’ house.

Aud. Ha, ha, ha! 30

Dam. Out, you gernative[3885] quean, the mullipood[3885] of villany, the spinner of concupiscency!

Enter [SIR LAUNCELOT and] other Gentlemen.

Sir L. Yea, gentlemen, are you here before us? How is he now?

Lam. Faith, the same man still: the tavern (35) bitch has bit him i’ the head[3886].

Sir L. We shall have the better sport with him: peace.—And how cheers Master Dampit now?

Dam. O, my bosom. Sir Launcelot, how cheer I! Thy presence is restorative. 41

Sir L. But I hear a great complaint of you, Master Dampit, among gallants.

Dam. I am glad of that, i’ faith: prithee, what? 45

Sir L. They say you are wax’d proud a’ late, and if a friend visit you in the afternoon, you ’ll scarce know him.

Dam. Fie, fie; proud? I cannot remember any such thing: sure I was drunk then. 50

Sir L. Think you so, sir?

Dam. There ’t was, i’ faith; nothing but the pride of the sack; and so certify ’em.—Fetch sack, sirrah.

Boy. A vengeance sack you once! 55 [Exit, and returns presently with sack.]

Aud. Why, Master Dampit, if you hold on as you begin, and lie a little longer, you need not take care how to dispose your wealth; you ’ll make the vintner your heir. 59

Dam. Out, you babliaminy, you unfeathered, cremitoried quean, you cullisance of scabiosity!

Aud. Good words, Master Dampit, to speak before a maid and a virgin!

Dam. Hang thy virginity upon the pole of carnality! 65

Aud. Sweet terms! My mistress shall know ’em.

Lam. Note but the misery of this usuring slave: here he lies, like a noisome dunghill, full of the poison of his drunken blasphemies; (70) and they to whom he bequeaths all, grudge him the very meat that feeds him, the very pillow that eases him. Here may a usurer behold his end. What profits it to be a slave in this world, and a devil i’ th’ next? 75

Dam. Sir Launcelot, let me buss[3887] thee, Sir Launcelot; thou art the only friend that I honour and respect.

Sir L. I thank you for that, Master Dampit.

Dam. Farewell, my bosom Sir Launcelot. 80

Sir L. Gentlemen, an you love me, let me step behind you, and one of you fall a-talking of me to him.

Lam. Content.—Master Dampit——

Dam. So, sir. 85

Lam. Here came Sir Launcelot to see you e’en now.

Dam. Hang him, rascal!

Lam. Who? Sir Launcelot?

Dam. Pythagorical rascal! 90

Lam. Pythagorical?

Dam. Ay, he changes his cloak when he meets a sergeant.

Sir L. What a rogue ’s this!

Lam. I wonder you can rail at him, sir; (95) he comes in love to see you.

Dam. A louse for his love! his father was a comb-maker; I have no need of his crawling love. He comes to have longer day,[3888] the superlative rascal! 100

Sir L. ’Sfoot, I can no longer endure the rogue!—Master Dampit, I come to take my leave once again, sir.

Dam. Who? my dear and kind Sir Launcelot, the only gentleman of England? Let me hug thee; farewell, and a thousand. 106

Lam. Compos’d of wrongs and slavish flatteries!

Sir L. Nay, gentlemen, he shall show you more tricks yet; I ’ll give you another taste (110) of him.

Lam. Is ’t possible?

Sir L. His memory is upon departing.

Dam. Another cup of sack! 114

Sir L. Mass, then ’t will be quite gone! Before he drink that, tell him there ’s a country client come up, and here attends for his learned advice.

Lam. Enough.

Dam. One cup more, and then let the bell (120) toll: I hope I shall be weak enough by that time.

Lam. Master Dampit——

Dam. Is the sack spouting?

Lam. ’T is coming forward, sir. Here ’s (125) a countryman, a client of yours, waits for your deep and profound advice, sir.

Dam. A coxcombry, where is he? Let him approach: set me up a peg higher.

Lam. [to SIR LAUN.] You must draw near, sir. 131

Dam. Now, good man fooliaminy, what say you to me now?

Sir L. Please your good worship, I am a poor man, sir—— 135

Dam. What make you in my chamber then?

Sir L. I would entreat your worship’s device[3889] in a just and honest cause, sir.

Dam. I meddle with no such matters; I refer ’em to Master No-man’s office. 140

Sir L. I had but one house left me in all the world, sir, which was my father’s, my grandfather’s, my great-grandfather’s, and now a villain has unjustly wrung me out, and took possession on ’t. 145

Dam. Has he such feats? Thy best course is to bring thy ejectione firmae, and in seven year thou mayst shove him out by the law.

Sir L. Alas, an ’t please your worship, I have small friends and less money! 150

Dam. Hoyday! this gear will fadge well.[3890] Hast no money? Why, then, my advice is, thou must set fire a’ th’ house, and so get him out.

Lam. That will break strife, indeed. 155

Sir L. I thank your worship for your hot counsel, sir.—Altering but my voice a little, you see he knew me not: you may observe by this, that a drunkard’s memory holds longer in the voice than in the person. But, gentlemen, (160) shall I show you a sight? Behold the little dive-dapper[3891] of damnation, Gulf the usurer, for his time worse than t’other.

Enter HOARD with GULF.

Lam. What ’s he comes with him?

Sir L. Why, Hoard, that married lately (165) the Widow Medler.

Lam. O, I cry you mercy, sir.

Hoa. Now, gentlemen visitants, how does Master Dampit? 169

Sir L. Faith, here he lies, e’en drawing in, sir, good canary as fast as he can, sir; a very weak creature, truly, he is almost past memory.

Hoa. Fie, Master Dampit! you lie lazing a-bed here, and I come to invite you to my (175) wedding-dinner: up, up, up!

Dam. Who ’s this? Master Hoard? Who hast thou married, in the name of foolery?

Hoa. A rich widow.

Dam. A Dutch widow?[3892] 180

Hoa. A rich widow; one Widow Medler.

Dam. Medler? She keeps open house.

Hoa. She did, I can tell you, in her t’other husband’s days; open house for all comers; horse and man was welcome, and room enough for ’em all. 186

Dam. There ’s too much for thee, then; thou mayst let out some to thy neighbours.

Gulf. What, hung alive in chains? O spectacle! bed-staffs of steel? O monstrum horrendum, (190) informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum![3893] O Dampit, Dampit, here ’s a just judgment shown upon usury, extortion, and trampling villany!

Sir L. This is excellent, thief rails upon (195) the thief!

Gulf. Is this the end of cut-throat usury, brothel, and blasphemy? Now mayst thou see what race a usurer runs.

Dam. Why, thou rogue of universality, (200) do not I know thee? Thy sound is like the cuckoo, the Welsh ambassador;[3894] thou cowardly slave, that offers to fight with a sick man when his weapon ’s down! Rail upon me in my naked[3895] bed? Why, thou great Lucifer’s 205 little vicar! I am not so weak but I know a knave at first sight. Thou inconscionable rascal! thou that goest upon Middlesex juries, and wilt make haste to give up thy verdict because thou wilt not lose thy dinner! Are (210) you answered?

Gulf. An ’t were not for shame—— Draws his dagger.

Dam. Thou wouldst be hang’d then.

Lam. Nay, you must exercise patience, Master Gulf, always in a sick man’s chamber. 215

Sir L. He ’ll quarrel with none, I warrant you, but those that are bed-rid.

Dam. Let him come, gentlemen, I am arm’d: reach my close-stool hither.

Sir L. Here will be a sweet fray anon: (220) I’ll leave you, gentlemen.

Lam. Nay, we ’ll go along with you.—Master Gulf——

Gulf. Hang him, usuring rascal!

Sir L. Pish, set your strength to his, your (225) wit to his!

Aud. Pray, gentlemen, depart; his hour ’s come upon him.—Sleep in my bosom, sleep.

Sir L. Nay, we have enough of him, i’ faith; keep him for the house. 230 Now make your best: For thrice his wealth I would not have his breast.

Gulf. A little thing would make me beat him now he ’s asleep.

Sir L. Mass, then ’t will be a pitiful day (235) when he wakes: I would be loath to see that day: come.

Gulf. You overrule me, gentlemen, i’ faith. Exeunt.

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Act V

[SCENE I.][3896]

Enter LUCRE and WITGOOD.

Wit. Nay, uncle, let me prevail with you so much: I’ faith, go, now he has invited you.

Luc. I shall have great joy there when he has borne away the widow!

Wit. Why, la, I thought where I should (5) find you presently. Uncle, a’ my troth, ’t is nothing so.

Luc. What ’s nothing so, sir? Is not he married to the widow?

Wit. No, by my troth, is he not, uncle. 10

Luc. How?

Wit. Will you have the truth on ’t? He is married to a whore, i’ faith.

Luc. I should laugh at that.

Wit. Uncle, let me perish in your favour (15) if you find it not so; and that ’t is I that have married the honest woman.

Luc. Ha! I ’d walk ten mile ’a foot to see that, i’ faith.

Wit. And see ’t you shall, or I ’ll ne’er see (20) you again.

Luc. A quean, i’ faith? Ha, ha, ha! Exeunt.

[SCENE II.][3897]

Enter HOARD, tasting wine, Host following in a livery cloak.

Hoa. Pup, pup, pup, pup, I like not this wine: is there never a better tierce in the house?

Host. Yes, sir, there are as good tierces in the house as any are in England. 5

Hoa. Desire your mistress, you knave, to taste ’em all over; she has best skill.

Host. [Aside.] Has she so? The better for her, and the worse for you. Exit.

Hoa. Arthur! 10 [Enter ARTHUR.] Is the cupboard of plate set out?

Arth. All ’s in order, sir. [Exit.]

Hoa. I am in love with my liveries every time I think on ’em; they make a gallant show, by my troth. Niece! 15

[Enter JOYCE.]

Joyce. Do you call, sir?

Hoa. Prithee, show a little diligence, and overlook the knaves a little; they ’ll filch and steal to-day, and send whole pasties home to their wives; an thou be’st a good niece, do (20) not see me purloin’d.

Joyce. Fear it not, sir—[Aside.] I have cause: though the feast be prepared for you, yet it serves fit for my wedding-dinner too. [Exit.]

Enter two Gentlemen [LAMPREY and SPICHCOCK].

Hoa. Master Lamprey and Master Spichcock, (25) two the most welcome gentlemen alive! Your fathers and mine were all free a’ th’ fishmongers.[3898]

Lam. They were indeed, sir. You see bold guests, sir; soon entreated. 30

Hoa. And that ’s best, sir. [Enter Servant.] How now, sirrah?

Ser. There’s a coach come to th’ door, sir. [Exit.]

Hoa. My Lady Foxtone, a’ my life!—Mistress Jane Hoard! wife!—Mass, ’t is her ladyship (35) indeed! [Enter LADY FOXTONE.] Madam, you are welcome to an unfurnisht house, dearth of cheer, scarcity of attendance.

L. Fox. You are pleas’d to make the worst, sir. 40

Hoa. Wife!

[Enter Courtesan.]

L. Fox. Is this your wife?

Hoa. Yes, madam.—Salute my Lady Foxtone.

Cour. Please you, madam, awhile to taste (45) the air in the garden?

L. Fox. ’T will please us well. Exeunt [L. FOXTONE and Courtesan].

Hoa. Who would not wed? The most delicious life! No joys are like the comforts of a wife. 49

Lam. So we bachelors think, that are not troubled with them.

[Re-enter Servant.]

Ser. Your worship’s brother, with other ancient gentlemen, are newly alighted, sir. [Exit.]

Hoa. Master Onesiphorus Hoard? Why, now our company begins to come in. 55 [Enter ONESIPHORUS HOARD, LIMBER, and KIX.] My dear and kind brother, welcome, i’ faith.

O. Hoa. You see we are men at an hour, brother.

Hoa. Ay, I ’ll say that for you, brother; you keep as good an hour to come to a feast as (60) any gentleman in the shire.—What, old Master Limber and Master Kix! Do we meet, i’ faith, jolly gentlemen?

Lim. We hope you lack guests, sir? 64

Hoa. O, welcome, welcome! We lack still such guests as your worships.

O. Hoa. Ah, sirrah brother, have you catcht up Widow Medler?

Hoa. From ’em all, brother; and I may tell you I had mighty enemies, those that stuck (70) sore: old Lucre is a sore fox, I can tell you, brother.

O. Hoa. Where is she? I ’ll go seek her out; I long to have a smack at her lips. 74

Hoa. And most wishfully,[3899] brother, see where she comes. [Re-enter Courtesan and LADY FOXTONE.] Give her a smack now we may hear it all the house over. (Courtesan and O. Hoard turn back.)

Cour. O Heaven, I am betray’d! I know that face. 80

Hoa. Ha, ha, ha! why, how now? Are you both asham’d?—Come, gentlemen, we ’ll look another way.

O. Hoa. Nay, brother, hark you: come, you’re dispos’d to be merry. 85

Hoa. Why do we meet else, man?

O. Hoa. That’s another matter: I was ne’er so ’fraid in my life but that you had been in earnest.

Hoa. How mean you, brother? 90

O. Hoa. You said she was your wife.

Hoa. Did I so? By my troth, and so she is.

O. Hoa. By your troth, brother?

Hoa. What reason have I to dissemble (94) with my friends, brother? If marriage can make her mine, she is mine. Why——

O. Hoa. Troth, I am not well of a sudden. I must crave pardon, brother; I came to see you, but I cannot stay dinner, i’ faith.

Hoa. I hope you will not serve me so, brother? 101

Lim. By your leave, Master Hoard——

Hoa. What now? what now? Pray, gentlemen:—you were wont to show yourselves wise men. 105

Lim. But you have shown your folly too much here.

Hoa. How?

Kix. Fie, fie! a man of your repute and name! You’ll feast your friends, but cloy ’em first with shame.

Hoa. This grows too deep; pray, let us reach the sense. 110

Lim. In your old age dote on a courtesan!

Hoa. Ha!

Kix. Marry a strumpet!

Hoa. Gentlemen!

O. Hoa. And Witgood’s quean! 115

Hoa. O! nor lands nor living?

O. Hoa. Living!

Hoa. [to Courtesan.] Speak.

Cour. Alas, you know, at first, sir, I told you I had nothing! 120

Hoa. Out, out! I am cheated; infinitely cozened!

Lim. Nay, Master Hoard——

Enter LUCRE, WITGOOD, [and JOYCE.]

Hoa. A Dutch widow! a Dutch widow! a Dutch widow!

Luc. Why, nephew, shall I trace thee still a liar? Wilt make me mad? Is not yon thing the widow? 125

Wit. Why, la, you are so hard a’ belief, uncle! By my troth, she ’s a whore.

Luc. Then thou ’rt a knave.

Wit. Negatur argumentum, uncle. 129

Luc. Probo tibi, nephew: he that knows a woman to be a quean must needs be a knave; thou sayst thou knowest her to be one; ergo, if she be a quean, thou ’rt a knave.

Wit. Negatur sequela majoris, uncle; he that knows a woman to be a quean must needs be a knave; I deny that. 136

Hoa. Lucre and Witgood, you’re both villains; get you out of my house!

Luc. Why, didst not invite me to thy wedding-dinner? 140

Wit. And are not you and I sworn perpetual friends before witness, sir, and were both drunk upon ’t?

Hoa. Daintily abus’d! You’ve put a junt[3900] upon me!

Luc. Ha, ha, ha! 145

Hoa. A common strumpet!

Wit. Nay, now You wrong her, sir; if I were she, I ’d have The law on you for that; I durst depose for her 149 She ne’er had common use nor common thought.

Cour. Despise me, publish me, I am your wife; What shame can I have now but you ’ll have part? If in disgrace you share, I sought not you; You pursued, nay, forc’d me; had I friends would follow it, Less than your action has been prov’d a rape.

O. Hoa. Brother! 156

Cour. Nor did I ever boast of lands unto you, Money, or goods; I took a plainer course, And told you true, I ’d nothing: If error were committed, ’t was by you; 160 Thank your own folly. Nor has my sin been So odious, but worse has been forgiven; Nor am I so deform’d, but I may challenge The utmost power of any old man’s love. 164 She that tastes not sin before, twenty to one but she ’ll taste it after: most of you old men are content to marry young virgins, and take that which follows; where, marrying one of us, you both save a sinner and are quit from a cuckold for ever: 170 And more, in brief, let this your best thoughts win, She that knows sin, knows best how to hate sin.

Hoa. Curst be all malice! black are the fruits of spite, And poison first their owners. O, my friends, I must embrace shame, to be rid of shame! 175 Conceal’d disgrace prevents a public name. Ah, Witgood! ah, Theodorus!

Wit. Alas, sir, I was prickt in conscience to see her well bestowed, and where could I bestow her better than upon your pitiful worship? (180) Excepting but myself, I dare swear she ’s a virgin; and now, by marrying your niece, I have banisht myself for ever from her. She ’s mine aunt now, by my faith, and there ’s no meddling with mine aunt, you know: a sin against my nuncle. 186

Cour. Lo, gentlemen, before you all [Kneels.] In true reclaimed form I fall. Henceforth for ever I defy[3901] The glances of a sinful eye, 190 Waving of fans (which some suppose Tricks of fancy[3902]), treading of toes, Wringing of fingers, biting the lip, The wanton gait, th’ alluring trip; All secret friends and private meetings, 195 Close-borne letters and bawds’ greetings; Feigning excuse to women’s labours When we are sent for to th’ next neighbour’s; Taking false physic, and ne’er start To be let blood though sign[3903] be at heart; 200 Removing chambers, shifting beds, To welcome friends in husbands’ steads, Them to enjoy, and you to marry, They first serv’d, while you must tarry, They to spend, and you to gather, 205 They to get, and you to father: These, and thousand, thousand more, New reclaim’d, I now abhor.

Luc. [to WITGOOD.] Ah, here ’s a lesson, rioter, for you!

Wit. I must confess my follies; I ’ll down too: [Kneels.] 210 And here for ever I disclaim The cause of youth’s undoing, game, Chiefly dice, those true outlanders, That shake out beggars, thieves, and panders; Soul-wasting surfeits, sinful riots, 215 Queans’ evils, doctors’ diets, ’Pothecaries’ drugs, surgeons’ glisters; Stabbing of arms[3904] for a common mistress; Riband favours, ribald speeches; Dear perfum’d jackets, penniless breeches; 220 Dutch flapdragons,[3905] healths in urine; Drabs that keep a man too sure in: I do defy you all. Lend me each honest hand, for here I rise A reclaim’d man, loathing the general vice. 225

Hoa. So, so, all friends! the wedding-dinner cools: Who seem most crafty prove ofttimes most fools. [Exeunt.]

THE CHANGELING

BY THOMAS MIDDLETON AND WILLIAM ROWLEY

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Dramatis Personae

VERMANDERO, [governor of the castle of Alicant,] father to Beatrice. TOMASO DE PIRACQUO, a noble lord. ALONZO DE PIRACQUO, his brother, suitor to Beatrice. ALSEMERO, a nobleman, afterwards married to Beatrice. JASPERINO, his friend. ALIBIUS, a jealous doctor. LOLLIO, his man. PEDRO, friend to Antonio. ANTONIO, the changeling. FRANCISCUS, the counterfeit madman. DE FLORES, servant to Vermandero. Madmen. Servants.

BEATRICE [-JOANNA], daughter to Vermandero. DIAPHANTA, her waiting-woman. ISABELLA, wife of Alibius.

SCENE.—Alicant.

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Act I

[SCENE I.][3906]

Enter ALSEMERO.

Als. ’T was in the temple where I first beheld her, And now again the same: what omen yet Follows of that? None but imaginary. Why should my hopes or fate be timorous? The place is holy, so is my intent: 5 I love her beauties to the holy purpose; And that, methinks, admits comparison With man’s first creation, the place blessed,[3907] And is his right home back, if he achieve it. The church hath first begun our interview, 10 And that ’s the place must join us into one; So there ’s beginning and perfection too.

Enter JASPERINO.

Jas. O sir, are you here? Come, the wind ’s fair with you; You ’re like to have a swift and pleasant passage.

Als. Sure, you’re deceived, friend, ’t is contrary, 15 In my best judgment.

Jas. What, for Malta? If you could buy a gale amongst the witches,[3908] They could not serve you such a lucky pennyworth As comes a’ God’s name.

Als. Even now I observ’d The temple’s vane to turn full in my face; 20 I know it is against me.

Jas. Against you? Then you know not where you are.

Als. Not well, indeed.

Jas. Are you not well, sir?

Als. Yes, Jasperino, Unless there be some hidden malady Within me, that I understand not.

Jas. And that 25 I begin to doubt, sir. I never knew Your inclinations to travels at a pause With any cause to hinder it, till now. Ashore you were wont to call your servants up, And help to trap your horses for the speed; 30 At sea I ’ve seen you weigh the anchor with ’em, Hoist sails for fear to lose the foremost breath, Be in continual prayers for fair winds; And have you chang’d your orisons?

Als. No, friend; I keep the same church, same devotion. 35

Jas. Lover I ’m sure you’re none; the stoic was Found in you long ago; your mother nor Best friends, who have set snares of beauty, ay, And choice ones too, could never trap you that way. What might be the cause?

Als. Lord, how violent 40 Thou art! I was but meditating of Somewhat I heard within the temple.

Jas. Is this Violence? ’T is but idleness compar’d With your haste yesterday.

Als. I ’m all this while A-going, man.

Enter Servants.

Jas. Backwards, I think, sir. Look, 45 Your servants.

1 Ser. The seamen call; shall we board your trunks?

Als. No, not to-day.

Jas. ’T is the critical day, it seems, and the sign in Aquarius. 51

2 Ser. We must not to sea to-day; this smoke will bring forth fire.

Als. Keep all on shore; I do not know the end, Which needs I must do, of an affair in hand 55 Ere I can go to sea.

1 Ser. Well, your pleasure.

2 Ser. Let him e’en take his leisure too; we are safer on land. Exeunt Servants.

Enter BEATRICE, DIAPHANTA, and Servants [ALSEMERO accosts BEATRICE and then kisses her].

Jas. [Aside.] How now? The laws of the Medes are chang’d sure; salute a woman! He kisses too; wonderful! Where learnt he (61) this? and does it perfectly too. In my conscience, he ne’er rehearst it before. Nay, go on; this will be stranger and better news at Valencia than if he had ransom’d half Greece from the Turk. 66

Beat. You are a scholar, sir?

Als. A weak one, lady.

Beat. Which of the sciences is this love you speak of?

Als. From your tongue I take it to be music.

Beat. You ’re skilful in it, can sing at first sight. 70

Als. And I have show’d you all my skill at once; I want more words to express me further, And must be forc’d to repetition; I love you dearly.

Beat. Be better advis’d, sir: Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgments, 75 And should give certain judgment what they see; But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders Of common things, which when our judgments find, They can then check the eyes, and call them blind.

Als. But I am further, lady; yesterday 80 Was mine eyes’ employment, and hither now They brought my judgment, where are both agreed. Both houses then consenting, ’t is agreed; Only there wants the confirmation By the hand royal; that ’s your part, lady. 85

Beat. Oh, there ’s one above me, sir.—[Aside.] For five days past To be recall’d! Sure mine eyes were mistaken; This was the man was meant me. That he should come So near his time, and miss it!

Jas. We might have come by the carriers (90) from Valencia, I see, and sav’d all our sea-provision; we are at farthest sure. Methinks I should do something too; I meant to be a venturer in this voyage. Yonder’s another vessel, I ’ll board her; 95 If she be lawful prize, down goes her topsail. [Accosts DIAPHANTA.]

Enter DE FLORES.

De F. Lady, your father——

Beat. Is in health, I hope.

De F. Your eye shall instantly instruct you, lady; He ’s coming hitherward.

Beat. What needed then Your duteous preface? I had rather 100 He had come unexpected; you must stall[3909] A good presence with unnecessary blabbing; And how welcome for your part you are, I ’m sure you know.

De F. [Aside.] Will ’t never mend, this scorn, One side nor other? Must I be enjoin’d 105 To follow still whilst she flies from me? Well, Fates, do your worst, I ’ll please myself with sight Of her at all opportunities, If but to spite her anger. I know she had Rather see me dead than living; and yet 110 She knows no cause for ’t but a peevish will.

Als. You seem’d displeas’d, lady, on the sudden.

Beat. Your pardon, sir, ’t is my infirmity; Nor can I other reason render you Than his or hers, of[3910] some particular thing 115 They must abandon as a deadly poison, Which to a thousand other tastes were wholesome; Such to mine eyes is that same fellow there, The same that report speaks of the basilisk.[3911]

Als. This is a frequent frailty in our nature; There ’s scarce a man amongst a thousand found 121 But hath his imperfection: one distastes The scent of roses, which to infinites Most pleasing is and odoriferous; One oil, the enemy of poison; 125 Another wine, the cheerer of the heart And lively refresher of the countenance. Indeed this fault, if so it be, is general; There ’s scarce a thing but is both lov’d and loath’d: 129 Myself, I must confess, have the same frailty.

Beat. And what may be your poison, sir? I ’m bold with you.

Als. What[3912] might be your desire, perhaps; a cherry.

Beat. I am no enemy to any creature My memory has, but yon gentleman.

Als. He does ill to tempt your sight, if he knew it. 135

Beat. He cannot be ignorant of that, sir, I have not spar’d to tell him so; and I want To help myself, since he ’s a gentleman In good respect with my father, and follows him.

Als. He ’s out of his place then now. [They talk apart.] 140

Jas. I am a mad wag, wench.

Dia. So methinks; but for your comfort, I can tell you, we have a doctor in the city that undertakes the cure of such.

Jas. Tush, I know what physic is best for the state of mine own body. 146

Dia. ’T is scarce a well-govern’d state, I believe.

Jas. I could show thee such a thing with an ingredient that we two would compound together, (150) and if it did not tame the maddest blood i’ th’ town for two hours after, I ’ll ne’er profess physic again.

Dia. A little poppy, sir, were good to cause you sleep. 155

Jas. Poppy? I ’ll give thee a pop i’ th’ lips for that first, and begin there. Poppy is one simple indeed, and cuckoo (what-you-call ’t) another. I ’ll discover no more now: another time I ’ll show thee all. [Exit.] 160

Enter VERMANDERO and Servants.

Beat. My father, sir.

Ver. O Joanna, I came to meet thee. Your devotion ’s ended?

Beat. For this time, sir.— [Aside.] I shall change my saint, I fear me; I find A giddy turning in me.—Sir, this while I am beholding to this gentleman, 165 Who left his own way to keep me company, And in discourse I find him much desirous To see your castle. He hath deserv’d it, sir, If ye please to grant it.

Ver. With all my heart, sir. Yet there ’s an article between; I must know Your country; we use not to give survey 171 Of our chief strengths to strangers; our citadels Are plac’d conspicuous to outward view, On promonts’[3913] tops, but within our secrets.

Als. A Valencian, sir.

Ver. A Valencian? 175 That ’s native, sir. Of what name, I beseech you?

Als. Alsemero, sir.

Ver. Alsemero? Not the son Of John de Alsemero?

Als. The same, sir.

Ver. My best love bids you welcome.

Beat. He was wont To call me so, and then he speaks a most 180 Unfeign’d truth.

Ver. O sir. I knew your father; We two were in acquaintance long ago, Before our chins were worth iulan[3914] down, And so continued till the stamp of time Had coin’d us into silver. Well, he ’s gone; 185 A good soldier went with him.

Als. You went together in that, sir.

Ver. No, by Saint Jacques, I came behind him; Yet I ’ve done somewhat too: an unhappy day Swallowed him at last at Gibraltar, 190 In fight with those rebellious Hollanders. Was it not so?

Als. Whose death I had reveng’d, Or followed him in fate, had not the late league Prevented me.

Ver. Ay, ay, ’t was time to breathe.— O Joanna, I should ha’ told thee news; 195 I saw Piracquo lately.

Beat. [Aside.] That ’s ill news.

Ver. He ’s hot preparing for this day of triumph: Thou must be a bride within this sevennight.

Als. [Aside.] Ha!

Beat. Nay, good sir, be not so violent; with speed 200 I cannot render satisfaction Unto the dear companion of my soul, Virginity, whom I thus long have liv’d with, And part with it so rude and suddenly. Can such friends divide, never to meet again, Without a solemn farewell?

Ver. Tush, tush! there ’s a toy.[3915] 206

Als. [Aside.] I must now part, and never meet again With any joy on earth.—Sir, your pardon; My affairs call on me.

Ver. How, sir? By no means: Not chang’d so soon, I hope? You must see my castle, 210 And her best entertainment, e’er we part; I shall think myself unkindly us’d else. Come, come, let ’s on; I had good hope your stay Had been a while with us in Alicant; I might have bid you to my daughter’s wedding. 215

Als. [Aside.] He means to feast me, and poisons me beforehand.— I should be dearly glad to be there, sir, Did my occasions suit as I could wish.

Beat. I shall be sorry if you be not there When it is done, sir; but not so suddenly. 220

Ver. I tell you, sir, the gentleman ’s complete, A courtier and a gallant, enricht With many fair and noble ornaments; I would not change him for a son-in-law For any he in Spain, the proudest he, 225 And we have great ones, that you know.

Als. He ’s much Bound to you, sir.

Ver. He shall be bound to me As fast as this tie can hold him; I ’ll want My will else.

Beat. [Aside.] I shall want mine, if you do it.

Ver. But come, by the way I ’ll tell you more of him. 230

Als. [Aside.] How shall I dare to venture in his castle, When he discharges murderers[3916] at the gate? But I must on, for back I cannot go.

Beat. [Aside.] Not this serpent gone yet? [Drops a glove.]

Ver. Look, girl, thy glove ’s fallen. Stay, stay; De Flores, help a little. 235

[Exeunt VERMANDERO, ALSEMERO, and Servants.]

De F. Here, lady. [Offers her the glove.]

Beat. Mischief on your officious forwardness; Who bade you stoop? They touch my hand no more: There! For t’ other’s sake I part with this; [Takes off and throws down the other glove.] Take ’em, and draw thine own skin off with ’em! 240 Exit [with DIAPHANTA and Servants].

De F. Here ’s a favour come with a mischief now! I know She had rather wear my pelt[3917] tann’d in a pair Of dancing pumps, than I should thrust my fingers Into her sockets here. I know she hates me, Yet cannot choose but love her. No matter, 245 If but to vex her, I will haunt her still; Though I get nothing else, I ’ll have my will. Exit.

[SCENE II.][3918]

Enter ALIBIUS and LOLLIO.

Alib. Lollio, I must trust thee with a secret, But thou must keep it.

Lol. I was ever close to a secret, sir.

Alib. The diligence that I have found in thee, The care and industry already past, 5 Assures me of thy good continuance. Lollio, I have a wife.

Lol. Fie, sir, ’t is too late to keep her secret; she ’s known to be married all the town and country over. 10

Alib. Thou goest too fast, my Lollio. That knowledge I allow no man can be barr’d it; But there is a knowledge which is nearer, Deeper, and sweeter, Lollio.

Lol. Well, sir, let us handle that between you and I. 15

Alib. ’T is that I go about, man. Lollio, My wife is young.

Lol. So much the worse to be kept secret, sir.

Alib. Why, now thou meet’st the substance of the point; I am old, Lollio. 20

Lol. No, sir, ’t is I am old Lollio.

Alib. Yet why may not this concord and sympathize? Old trees and young plants often grow together, Well enough agreeing. 24

Lol. Ay, sir, but the old trees raise themselves higher and broader than the young plants.

Alib. Shrewd application! There ’s the fear, man; I would wear my ring on my own finger; Whilst it is borrowed, it is none of mine, 30 But his that useth it.

Lol. You must keep it on still then, if it but lie by, one or other will be thrusting into ’t.

Alib. Thou conceiv’st me, Lollio; here thy watchful eye Must have employment; I cannot always be 35 At home.

Lol. I dare swear you cannot.

Alib. I must look out.

Lol. I know ’t, you must look out; ’t is every man’s case.

Alib. Here, I do say, must thy employment be; 40 To watch her treadings, and in my absence Supply my place.

Lol. I ’ll do my best, sir; yet surely I cannot see who you should have cause to be jealous of. 45

Alib. Thy reason for that, Lollio? It is A comfortable question.

Lol. We have but two sorts of people in the house, and both under the whip, that ’s fools[3919] and madmen; the one has not wit enough to 50 be knaves, and the other not knavery enough to be fools.

Alib. Ay, those are all my patients, Lollio; I do profess the cure of either sort; My trade, my living ’t is; I thrive by it; 55 But here ’s the care that mixes with my thrift: The daily-visitants, that come to see My brain-sick patients, I would not have To see my wife. Gallants I do observe Of quick enticing eyes, rich in habits, 60 Of stature and proportion very comely: These are most shrewd temptations, Lollio.

Lol. They may be easily answered, sir; if they come to see the fools and madmen, you and I may serve the turn, and let my mistress 65 alone; she ’s of neither sort.

Alib. ’T is a good ward;[3920] indeed, come they to see Our madmen or our fools, let ’em see no more Than what they come for; by that consequent They must not see her; I ’m sure she ’s no fool. 70

Lol. And I ’m sure she ’s no madman.

Alib. Hold that buckler fast; Lollio, my trust Is on thee, and I account it firm and strong. What hour is ’t, Lollio?

Lol. Towards belly-hour, sir.

Alib. Dinner-time? Thou mean’st twelve o’clock? 75

Lol. Yes, sir, for every part has his hour: we wake at six and look about us, that ’s eye hour; at seven we should pray, that ’s knee-hour: at eight walk, that’s leg-hour; at nine gather flowers and pluck a rose,[3921] that ’s nose-hour; (80) at ten we drink, that ’s mouth-hour; at eleven lay about us for victuals, that ’s hand-hour; at twelve go to dinner, that ’s belly-hour.

Alib. Profoundly, Lollio! It will be long Ere all thy scholars learn this lesson, and 85 I did look to have a new one ent’red;—stay, I think my expectation is come home.

Enter PEDRO, and ANTONIO [disguised] like an idiot].

Ped. Save you, sir; my business speaks itself: This sight takes off the labour of my tongue.

Alib. Ay, ay, sir, it is plain enough, you mean 90 Him for my patient.

Ped. And if your pains prove but commodious, to give but some little strength to his sick and weak part of nature in him, these are [gives him money] but patterns to show you (95) of the whole pieces that will follow to you, beside the charge of diet, washing, and other necessaries, fully defrayed.

Alib. Believe it, sir, there shall no care be wanting.

Lol. Sir, an officer in this place may deserve (100) something. The trouble will pass through my hands.

Ped. ’T is fit something should come to your hands then, sir. [Gives him money.]

Lol. Yes, sir, ’t is I must keep him sweet, (105) and read to him: what is his name?

Ped. His name is Antonio; marry, we use but half to him, only Tony.

Lol. Tony, Tony, ’t is enough, and a very good name for a fool.—What ’s your name, (110) Tony?

Ant. He, he, he! well, I thank you, cousin; he, he, he!

Lol. Good boy! hold up your head.—He can laugh; I perceive by that he is no beast. 115

Ped. Well, sir, If you can raise him but to any height, Any degree of wit; might he attain, As I might say, to creep on but all four Towards the chair of wit, or walk on crutches, ’T would add an honour to your worthy pains, 121 And a great family might pray for you, To which he should be heir, had he discretion To claim and guide his own. Assure you, sir, He is a gentleman. 125

Lol. Nay, there ’s nobody doubted that; at first sight I knew him for a gentleman, he looks no other yet.

Ped. Let him have good attendance and sweet lodging.

Lol. As good as my mistress lies in, sir; (130) and as you allow us time and means, we can raise him to the higher degree of discretion.

Ped. Nay, there shall no cost want, sir.

Lol. He will hardly be stretcht up to the wit of a magnifico. 135

Ped. O no, that ’s not to be expected; far shorter will be enough.

Lol. I ’ll warrant you I ’ll make him fit to bear office in five weeks; I ’ll undertake to wind him up to the wit of constable. 140

Ped. If it be lower than that, it might serve turn.

Lol. No, fie; to level him with a head-borough,[3922] beadle, or watchman, were but little better than he is. Constable I ’ll able[3923] him; (145) if he do come to be a justice afterwards, let him thank the keeper: or I ’ll go further with you; say I do bring him up to my own pitch, say I make him as wise as myself.

Ped. Why, there I would have it. 150

Lol. Well, go to; either I ’ll be as arrant a fool as he, or he shall be as wise as I, and then I think ’t will serve his turn.

Ped. Nay, I do like thy wit passing well.

Lol. Yes, you may; yet if I had not been (155) a fool, I had had more wit than I have too. Remember what state[3924] you found me in.

Ped. I will, and so leave you. Your best cares, I beseech you. Exit PEDRO.

Alib. Take you none with you, leave ’em (160) all with us.

Ant. O, my cousin ’s gone! cousin, cousin, O!

Lol. Peace, peace, Tony; you must not cry, child, you must be whipt if you do; your cousin is here still; I am your cousin, Tony. 165

Ant. He, he! then I ’ll not cry, if thou be’st my cousin; he, he, he!

Lol. I were best try his wit a little, that I may know what form to place him in.

Alib. Ay, do, Lollio, do. 170

Lol. I must ask him easy questions at first.—Tony, how many true[3925] fingers has a tailor on his right hand?

Ant. As many as on his left, cousin.

Lol. Good: and how many on both? 175

Ant. Two less than a deuce,[3926] cousin.

Lol. Very well answered. I come to you again, cousin Tony; how many fools goes to a wise man?

Ant. Forty in a day sometimes, cousin. 180

Lol. Forty in a day? How prove you that?

Ant. All that fall out amongst themselves, and go to a lawyer to be made friends.

Lol. A parlous fool! he must sit in the fourth form at least. I perceive that.—I come (185) again, Tony; how many knaves make an honest man?

Ant. I know not that, cousin.

Lol. No, the question is too hard for you. I ’ll tell you, cousin; there ’s three knaves (190) may make an honest man,—a sergeant, a jailor, and a beadle; the sergeant catches him, the jailor holds him, and the beadle lashes him; and if he be not honest then, the hangman must cure him. 195

Ant. Ha, ha, ha! that ’s fine sport, cousin.

Alib. This was too deep a question for the fool, Lollio.

Lol. Yes, this might have serv’d yourself, though I say ’t.—Once more and you shall go play, Tony. 201

Ant. Ay, play at push-pin, cousin; ha, he!

Lol. So thou shalt: say how many fools are here——

Ant. Two, cousin; thou and I. 205

Lol. Nay, you ’re too forward there, Tony. Mark my question; how many fools and knaves are here; a fool before a knave, a fool behind a knave, between every two fools a knave; how many fools, how many knaves? 210

Ant. I never learnt so far, cousin.

Alib. Thou puttest too hard questions to him, Lollio.

Lol. I ’ll make him understand it easily.—Cousin, stand there. 215

Ant. Ay, cousin.

Lol. Master, stand you next the fool.

Alib. Well, Lollio.

Lol. Here ’s my place. Mark now, Tony, there’s a fool before a knave. 220

Ant. That ’s I, cousin.

Lol. Here ’s a fool behind a knave, that ’s I; and between us two fools there is a knave, that ’s my master, ’t is but we three, that’s all.

Ant. We three, we three, cousin. 225

Madmen within.

1 Mad. [within.] Put ’s head i’ th’ pillory, the bread ’s too little.

2 Mad. [within.] Fly, fly, and he catches the swallow.

3 Mad. [within.] Give her more onion, or the devil put the rope about her crag.[3927] 231

Lol. You may hear what time of day it is, the chimes of Bedlam goes.

Alib. Peace, peace, or the wire[3928] comes!

3 Mad. [within.] Cat whore, cat whore! her permasant, her permasant![3929] 236

Alib. Peace, I say!—Their hour ’s come, they must be fed, Lollio.

Lol. There ’s no hope of recovery of that Welsh madman; was undone by a mouse that spoil’d him a permasant; lost his wits for ’t. 241

Alib. Go to your charge, Lollio; I ’ll to mine.

Lol. Go you to your madmen’s ward, let me alone with your fools. 245

Alib. And remember my last charge, Lollio. Exit.

Lol. Of which your patients do you think I am? Come, Tony, you must amongst your school-fellows now; there ’s pretty scholars 250 amongst ’em, I can tell you; there ’s some of ’em at stultus, stulta, stultum.

Ant. I would see the madmen, cousin, if they would not bite me.

Lol. No, they shall not bite thee, Tony. 255

Ant. They bite when they are at dinner, do they not, coz?

Lol. They bite at dinner, indeed, Tony. Well, I hope to get credit by thee; I like thee the best of all the scholars that ever I 260 brought up, and thou shalt prove a wise man, or I ’ll prove a fool myself. Exeunt.

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