ACT V., SCENE I.

_Enter_ SUBTLE, _with_ HUSBAND.

SUB. She is not to be cast.

HUS. It cannot be: Had you a wife, and I were in your case, I would be hang'd even at the chamber-door, Where I attempted, but I'd lay her flat.

SUB. Why, tell me truly, would it please you best, To have her remain chaste or conquered?

HUS. O friend, it would do me good at the heart To have her overcome: she does so brag, And stand upon her chastity, forsooth.

SUB. Why, then, in plain terms, sir, the fort is mine: Your wife has yielded; _up-tails_ is her song. The deed is done. Come now, be merry, man.

HUS. Is the deed done indeed? Come, come, you jest. Has my wife yielded? is _up-tails_ her song? Faith, come to[132] prose: how got you to the matter first, ha? Pish! you are so bashful now----

SUB. Why, by my troth, I'll tell you, because you are my friend; otherwise you must note, it is a great hurt to the art of whoremastery to discover; besides, the skill was never mine o' th' price.

HUS. Very good; on, sir.

SUB. At the first she was horrible stiff against me; then, sir, I took her by the hand, which I kissed.

HUS. Good, sir.

SUB. And I called her pretty rogue, and I thrust my finger betwixt her breasts, and I made lips. At last, I pulled her by the chin to me, and I kissed her.

HUS. Hum!--very good.

SUB. So at the first she kissed very strangely, close and untoward. Then said I to her, think but upon the wrongs, the intolerable wrongs, the rogue your husband does you.

HUS. Ay, that was very good: what said she to you then, sir?

SUB. Nay, I went on. First, quoth I, think how he hath used you--left you no means, given all your clothes to his punks; struck you, turned your grey eyes into black ones, but yet----

HUS. A pretty conceit!

SUB. Quoth I, these things are nothing in the rascal: think but what a base whoremaster the rascal is.

HUS. Did you call me rascal so often, are you sure?

SUB. Yes, and oftener; for, said I, none comes amiss to the rogue. I have known him, quoth I, do three lousy beggars under hedges in the riding of ten mile, and I swore this too.

HUS. 'Twas very well; but you did lie. On, pray.

SUB. Pish! one must lie a little. Now, sir, by this time she began to kiss somewhat more openly and familiarly, her resistance began to slacken, and my assault began to stiffen. The more her bulwark decayed, the more my battery fortified. At last, sir, a little fumbling being passed to make the conquest more difficult, she perceiving my artillery[133] mounted, falls me flat upon her back, cries me out aloud--

Alas! I yield. Use me not roughly, friend; My fort that, like Troy town, ten years hath stood Besieg'd and shot at, did remain unwon; But now 'tis conquer'd. So the deed was done.

HUS. Then came the hottest service. Forward with your tale, sir.

SUB. Nay,

_Cætera quis nescit? lassi requievimus ambo: Proveniant medii sic mihi sæpe dies_.[134]

HUS. Which is as much as to say I am a cuckold in all languages! But sure, 'tis not so? it is impossible my wife should yield.

SUB. Heyday! ev'n now it was impossible she should hold out, and now it is impossible she should yield. Stay you but here, and be an ear-witness to what follows. I'll fetch your wife. [_Aside._] I know he will not stay.

[_Exit._

HUS. Good faith, sir, but he will. I do suspect some knavery in this. Here will I hide myself; when thought as gone, If they do ought unfitting, I will call Witness, and straightway sue [for] a divorce. [_Aside. Exit._

_Enter_ WIFE _and_ SUBTLE.

SUB. I knew he would not stay. Now, noble mistress, I claim your promise.

WIFE. What was that, good servant?

SUB. That you would lie with me.

WIFE. If with any man-- But, prythee, first consider with thyself, If I should yield to thee, what a load thy conscience Would bear about it; for I wish quick thunder May strike me, if I yet have lost the truth, Or whiteness of the hand I gave in church: And 'twill not be thy happiness (as thou think'st) That thou alone shouldst make a woman fall, That did resist all else; but to thy soul A bitter corrosive, that thou didst stain Virtue that else had stood immaculate. Nor speak I this as yielding unto thee, For 'tis not in thy power, wert thou the sweet'st Of nature's children and the happiest, To conquer me, nor in mine own to yield; And thus it is with every pious wife. Thy daily railing at my absent husband Makes me endure thee worse; for let him do The most preposterous, ill-relishing things. To me they seem good, since my husband does 'em. Nor am I to revenge or govern him: And thus it should be with all virtuous wives.

SUB. Pox o' this virtue and this chastity! Do you [not] know, fair mistress, a young gentleman About this town called Bold? Where did he lie Last night, sweet mistress? O, O! are you catch'd? I saw him slip out of the house this morn, As naked as this truth; and for this cause I have told your husband that you yielded to me, And he, I warrant you, will blaze it thoroughly. As good do now, then, as be thought to do.

WIFE. No, 'twill not be yet. Thou injurious man! How wilt thou right me in my husband's thoughts, That on a false surmise and spite hast told A tale to breed incurable discontent? Bold was that old wench that did serve the widow, And thinking by this way to gain her love, Miss'd of his purpose, and was thus cashier'd; Nor cares she to proclaim it to the world.

SUB. Zounds! I have wrong'd you, mistress, on my knees [_Kneels._ I ask you pardon, and will nevermore Attempt your purity, but neglect all things Till that foul wrong I have bred in your knight I have expell'd, and set your loves aright.

_Enter_ HUSBAND.

HUS. Which now is done already. Madam, wife, [_Kneels._ Upon my knees with weeping eyes, heav'd hands, I ask thy pardon. O sweet, virtuous creature! I prythee, break my head.

WIFE. Rise, rise, sir, pray. You have done no wrong to me--at least, I think so: Heaven hath prevented all my injury. I do forgive, and marry you anew. Come, we are all invited to the weddings: The Lady Honour and the old rich Count, Young Bold unto another gentlewoman: We and the widow are invited thither. Embrace and love henceforth more really, Not so like worldlings.

HUS. Here then ends all strife. Thus false friends are made true by a true wife. [_Exeunt._