ACT IV.

EARTHWORM, JASPER.

EARTH. Out, villain! how could any fire come there But by thy negligence? I do not use To keep such fires as should at all endanger My house, much less my barn.

JAS. I know not, sir; But there I'm sure it was, and still continues, Though without danger now; for the poor people, Ere this, have quench'd it.

EARTH. There my wonder lies. Why should the people come to quench my fire? Had it been a city, where one house Might have endanger'd all, it justly then Might have engag'd the people's utmost aid, And I ne'er bound to give them thanks at all; But my house stands alone, and could endanger No other building. Why should all the people Come running hither so to quench the fire? They love not me.

JAS. Sure, sir, I cannot tell; Perhaps the people knew not what to do, And might be glad to see a sight.

EARTH. Methought, As I came by, I saw them wondrous busy; Nay, more--methought I heard them pray for me, As if they lov'd me. Why should they do so? I ne'er deserv'd it at the people's hands. Go, Jasper, tell me whether it be quench'd, And all secure: I long to hear the news.

_Enter_ THEODORE.

THEO. I come to bring you happy tidings, sir. The fire is quench'd, and little hurt is done.

EARTH. That's well, my son.

THEO. But, sir, if you had seen How the poor people labour'd to effect it, And (like so many salamanders) rush'd Into the fire, scorching their clothes and beards, You would have wonder'd justly, and have thought That each man toil'd to save his father's house Or his own dear estate; but I conceive 'Twas nothing but an honest charity, That wrought it in them.

EARTH. Ha! a charity! Why should that charity be show'd to me?

THEO. If I mistake not strangely, he begins To apprehend it.

EARTH. As I came along, I heard them pray for me; but those good prayers Can never pierce the skies in my behalf, But will return again, and ever lodge Within those honest breasts, that sent them forth.

THEO. Surely it works.

EARTH. O! all the world but I are honest men!

[_He weeps._

THEO. What is't that troubles you? Your goods are safe; there's nothing lost at all. You should rejoice, methinks. You might have suffer'd A wondrous loss in your estate!

EARTH. Ah, son! 'Tis not the thought of what I might have lost, That draws these tears from me.

THEO. Does he not weep, Or do my flattering hopes deceive my sight? He weeps, and fully too; large show'rs of tears Bedew his aged cheeks. O happy sorrow, That makes me weep for joy! Never did son So justly glory in a father's tears. [_Aside._ Sir, you are sad, methinks.

EARTH. No sadness, son, Can be enough to expiate the crimes That my accursed avarice has wrought. Where are the poor?

THEO. Why, sir, what would you do?[18]

EARTH. Ask me not, Theodore. Alas, I fear Thou art too much my son; my bad example Has done thee much more harm than all the large Increase of treasure I shall leave behind Can recompence. But leave those wretched thoughts, And let me teach thee a new lesson now: But thou art learned, Theodore, and soon Wilt find the reasons of it.

THEO. Do you please To speak it, sir, and I will strive to frame Myself to follow.

EARTH. Where are all the poor? Jasper, go call them in. Now, prythee, learn (For this late accident may truly teach A man what value he should set on wealth) Fire may consume my houses; thieves may steal My plate and jewels; all my merchandise Is at the mercy of the winds and seas; And nothing can be truly term'd mine own, But what I make mine own by using well. Those deeds of charity which we have done, Shall stay for ever with us; and that wealth Which we have so bestowed, we only keep: The other is not ours.

THEO. Sir, you have taught me Not to give anything at all away.

EARTH. When I was blind, my son, and did miscall My sordid vice of avarice true thrift: But now forget that lesson; I prythee, do. That cosening vice, although it seem to keep Our wealth, debars us from possessing it, And makes us more than poor.

THEO. How far beyond All hope my happy project works upon him!

_Enter_ NEIGHBOURS.

EARTH. Y' are welcome, neighbours; welcome heartily! I thank you all, and will hereafter study To recompence your undeserved love. My house shall stand more open to the poor, More hospitable, and my wealth more free To feed and clothe the naked hungry souls. I will redeem the ill that I have done (If heaven be pleas'd to spare my life awhile) With true unfeigned deeds of charity.

1ST NEIGH. We thank your worship.

2D NEIGH. We know full well Your worship has a good heart toward us.

EARTH. Alas! you do not know it; but have had Too sad a cause to know the contrary. Pray do not thank me, till you truly find How much my heart is chang'd from what it was; Till you, by real and substantial deeds, Shall see my penitence, and be fully taught How to forget or pardon all the errors Of that my former miserable life. Jasper, go in with them; show them the way Into my house.

JAS. I think I had need to show 'em; No poor folks heretofore have us'd this way.

EARTH. And I'll come to you, neighbours, presently.

1ST NEIGH. Long may you live.

2D NEIGH. All happiness betide you.

3D NEIGH. And a reward fourfold in th' other world.

EARTH. How dost thou like this music, Theodore? I mean, the hearty prayers of the poor, Whose curses pierce more than two-edged swords. What comfort like to this can riches give? What joy can be so great, as to be able To feed the hungry, clothe the naked man?

THEO. Now, sir, you think aright; for to bestow Is greater pleasure far than to receive.

EARTH. No vice, so much as avarice, deprives Our life of sweetest comforts, and debars So much the fair society of men. I taught thee once far otherwise, but now Study this last and better lesson, son.

THEO. With more delight than e'er I did the former. You never yet knew scholar covetous.

EARTH. And now I think on't, Theodore, I have A niece, the daughter of my only sister; Her mother died a widow two years since. How she has left her orphan daughter there, I do not know; if she have left her ill, I'll be a father to her. Prythee, go Inquire her out, and bring her to my house, How well soe'er the world may go with her Bounty's a spice of virtue. Whoso can, And won't, relieve the poor, he is no man.

THEO. Where lives she, sir?

EARTH. 'Tis not a mile from hence, In the next village. Thou ne'er saw'st her yet; But fame has spoke her for a virtuous maid. Young Scudmore, while he liv'd, and was possess'd Of his estate, thought to have married her, Whose death, they say, she takes most heavily, And with a wond'rous constant sorrow mourns.

THEO. Sure, 'tis the same fair maid. [_Aside._

EARTH. Her name's Matilda.

THEO. The very same! [_Aside._] I can inquire her out; And, if you please, will presently about it.

EARTH. Do, while I my neighbours visit. He doth live Mighty that hath the pow'r and will to give. [_Exit._

THEO. This is the same fair nightingale that tun'd Her sweet sad accents lately to the woods, And did so far enthral my heart: but that Fond love is vanish'd. Like a kinsman now I'll comfort her, and love her virtuous soul. O, what a blessed change this day has wrought In my old father's heart! You pow'rs, that gave Those thoughts, continue them! This day will I Still celebrate as my nativity. [_Exit_.

LADY COVET, FRUITFUL.

LADY C. But is that lawful, to convey away All my estate, before I marry him?

FRUIT. 'Tis more than lawful, madam: I must Tell you 'tis necessary; and your ladyship Is bound in conscience so to do; for else 'Twill be no longer yours, but all is his, When he has married you. You cannot then Dispose of anything to pious uses; You cannot show your charity at all, But must be govern'd by Sir Argent Scrape: And can you tell how he'll dispose of it?

LADY C. 'Tis true: perchance he'll take my money all, And purchase for himself, to give away To his own name, and put me, while I live, To a poor stipend.

FRUIT. There you think aright. You can relieve no friends; you can bequeath Nothing at all, if he survive you, madam, As 'tis his hope he shall.

LADY C. That hope may fail him. I am not yet so weak, but I may hop Over his grave.

FRUIT. That is not in our knowledge. But if you do survive him, as I hope, Madam, you will, there is no law at all Can bar you of your thirds in all his land, And you besides are mistress of your own. And all the charitable deeds, which you After your death shall do, as building schools Or hospitals, shall go in your own name; Which otherwise Sir Argent Scrape would have, And with your riches build himself a fame.

LADY C. I grant 'tis true: but will it not seem strange That I should serve him so?

FRUIT. Strange, madam! no; Nothing is now more usual: all your widows Of aldermen, that marry lords of late, Make over their estates, and by that means Retain a power to curb their lordly husbands. When they, to raise the ruins of their houses, Do marry so: instead of purchasing What was expected, they do more engage Their land in thirds for them.

LADY C. Well, I must trust The feoffees then: but they are honest men.

FRUIT. You need not fear them; they are zealous men, Honest in all their dealings, and well known In London, madam. Will you seal it now?

_Enter_ TRUSTY.

LADY C. Yes, have you it?

FRUIT. 'Tis here: Here's Master Trusty too, Your steward, madam; he and I shall be Enough for witnesses.

LADY C. 'Tis true: give me The seal. So now dispose of it as I Intended, Master Fruitful. [_Seals and delivers._

FRUIT. I will, madam.

LADY C. Trusty, come you along with me. [_Exeunt._

_Manet_ FRUITFUL.

FRUIT. Now all our ends are wrought! this is the thing, Which I so long have labour'd to effect. Old covetous lady, I will purge your mind Of all this wealth, that lay so heavy there, And by evacuation make a cure Of that your golden dropsy, whose strange thirst Could ne'er be satisfied with taking in. You once had wealth--But soft, let me consider! If she should marry old Sir Argent Scrape, We could not keep it; for his money then Would make a suit against us, and perchance Recover hers again; which to prevent I will go spoil the marriage presently. The sight of this will soon forbid the banns, And stop his love. Then she wants means to sue us. Be sure to keep thine adversary poor, If thou wouldst thrive in suits. The way to 'scape Revenge for one wrong is to do another: The second injury secures the former. I'll presently to old Sir Argent Scrape, And tell him this: he's meditating now, What strange additions to his large revenue Are coming at one happy clap; what heaps Of wealth to-morrow he shall be possess'd of; What purchases to make; how to dispose Of her and hers. But soft, the cards must turn: The man must be deceived, and she much more. To cosen the deceitful is no fraud. [_Exit._

_Enter_ SIR ARGENT SCRAPE.

SIR ARG. Methinks a youthful figure doth possess My late stiff limbs; and (like a snake) I feel A second spring succeed my age of winter. O gold! how cordial, how restorative Art thou! What, though thou canst not give me legs Nor active hands, alas! I need them not; Possess'd of thee, I can command the legs, The hands, the tongues, the brains, of other men To move for me. What need he hands or brains, That may command the lawyer's subtlety, The soldier's valour, the best poet's wit, Or any writer's skill? O gold! to thee The sciences are servants; the best trades Are but thy slaves, indeed thy creatures rather: For thee they were invented, and by thee Are still maintained. 'Tis thou alone that art The nerves of war, the cement of the state, And guide of human actions. 'Tis for thee Old Argent lives. O, what a golden shower Will rain on me to-morrow! Let me see: Her personal estate alone will buy Upon good rates a thousand pound a year. Where must that lie? Not in our country here-- Not all together; no; then my revenue Will have too great a notice taken of it; I shall be rais'd in subsidies, and 'sess'd More to the poor. No, no, that must not be. I'll purchase all in parcels, far from home, And closely as I can: a piece in Cornwall; In Hampshire some; some in Northumberland. I'll have my factors forth in all those parts, To know what prodigals there be abroad, What pennyworths may be had: so it shall be.

_Enter_ FRUITFUL.

SIR ARG. Ha! Master Fruitful! welcome. How go the squares? What do you think of me to make a bridegroom? Do I look young enough?

FRUIT. Sir, I am come To tell you news; such news as will, perhaps, A little trouble you; but, if your worship Should not have known it, 'twould have vex'd you more.

SIR ARG. Vex'd me! What's that can vex me now? speak, man.

FRUIT. I thought that I was bound in conscience, sir, To tell it you: 'tis conscience, and the love I bear to truth, makes me reveal it now.

SIR ARG. What is the business? speak.

FRUIT. Do not suppose That I am treacherous to my Lady Covet, To whom I do belong, in uttering this. In such a case I serve not her, but truth, And hate dishonest dealing.

SIR ARG. Come to th' purpose.

FRUIT. Then thus it is: my Lady Covet, sir, Merely to cosen you, has pass'd away Her whole estate; you shall not get a penny By marrying her.

SIR ARG. How, man? is't possible?

FRUIT. 'Tis very certain, sir; I, for a need, Could show you the conveyance; for my hand Is as a witness there; so is her steward's.

SIR ARG. O horrible deceit!

FRUIT. Ask her herself; If she deny it, I can justify it; So can her steward too.

SIR ARG. You make me mad.

FRUIT. I keep you from being so by a mature Prevention of your cosening.

SIR ARG. O, what hopes Am I fall'n from; who would believe these false Deceitful creatures?

FRUIT. Sir, I could but wonder, That she would cheat so honest a gentleman, That came a suitor to her for pure love.

SIR ARG. Love! Mischief of love!

FRUIT. Alas, I know It was not her estate that you sought after, Your love was honester: and then that she Should cosen you!

SIR ARG. She shall not cosen me: I'll have my horse-litter made ready straight, And leave her house.

FRUIT. But when you see her, sir, It may be your affection will return. If you should leave her only upon this, The world would think that you were covetous; And covetousness is such a sin, you know.

SIR ARG. You do not mock me, do you?

FRUIT. Who? I, sir? I know your worship does abhor the sin Of covetousness; but I confess indeed 'Twould vex a man to have been cosen'd so.

SIR ARG. Have I liv'd all this while to be o'er-reach'd And cheated by a woman? I'll forsake her Immediately.

FRUIT. Sir, 'tis a happy thing, When men can love with such discretion, As to forsake when they shall see just cause. Some are so fond in their affections That, though provok'd by all the injuries That can be offer'd, they can never leave The mistress of their hearts.

SIR ARG. I warrant her, For any such affection in old Argent.

FRUIT. I do believe it, sir; you are too wise. [_Retires._

_Enter_ LADY COVET.

LADY C. How do you, sir?

SIR ARG. E'en as I may: You do not mean I shall be e'er the better For you.

LADY C. How's this? I do not understand What you should mean.

SIR ARG. You may, if you consider: But if you do not, I'll explain it to you. Have I deserv'd such dealing at your hands?

LADY C. As what?

SIR ARG. As that you should speak one thing to me And mean another; but I'll make it plainer; You seem'd to love me, and for love it seems, Thinking to marry me, have made away All your estate.

LADY C. How's this?

SIR ARG. Nay, 'tis too true, Or else your chaplain does you wrong.

LADY C. O villain!

SIR ARG. Nay, villain him no villains; is it so, Or not?

FRUIT. If she deny it to you, sir, I can produce her hand, and have the deed.

LADY C. O monstrous villany! O impudence! Can'st thou abuse me thus, that first of all Did'st counsel me to do it?

FRUIT. I confess I gave you way, and for the time did wink At your false dealing; but at last my conscience Would not permit me to conceal it longer. I have discharg'd it now, and told the truth.

SIR ARG. Twas well done of you, sir: well, I'll away. Madam, seek out some other man to cheat. For me you shall not.

LADY. C. Stay, sir, my estate Shall still be good; the feoffees will be honest.

FRUIT. Ay, that they will, to keep what is their own.

LADY C. O monstrous wickedness! was e'er the like Heard of before?

FRUIT. I know the feoffees' minds.

_Enter_ FREEMAN, EUPHUES, BARNET, DOTTEREL, LADY WHIMSEY.

FREE. How fare you, madam. Wherefore look you sadly At such a joyful time?

LADY C. O Master Freeman, I am undone and ruin'd.

FRUIT. No, good madam, We'll see you shall not want.

FREE. How's this?

FRUIT. You shall have a fair competence allow'd you.

EUPH. What riddle have we here?

LADY C. Out, thou ungracious, dissembling villain.

FRUIT. An indifferent means Will keep your ladyship; for you are past Those vanities which younger ladies use: You need no gaudy clothes, no change of fashions, No paintings nor perfumes.

EUPH. I would fain know the bottom of this.

LADY W. Servant, can you discover What this should mean?

DOT. No, mistress, I protest: With all the wit I have.

FRUIT. And for your house, You shall have leave to stay here, till we have Provided for you.

LADY C. O, my heart will break!

EUPH. Here is the finest turn that e'er I saw.

SIR ARG. I will resolve you, gentlemen. This lady, To cosen me in marriage, had (it seems) Pass'd her estate away: into what hands 'Tis fallen, I know not, nor I care not, I.

FRUIT. 'Tis fallen into the hands of wise men, sir, That know how to make use of what is theirs.

LADY C. This hypocrite persuaded me to do't, And then discover'd all, as if on purposes He sought my ruin.

FRUIT. No, not I, good madam: 'Twas for your soul's health; I have done you good, And eas'd you of a burden, and a great one. So much estate would have been still a cause Of cares unto you, and those cares have hinder'd Your quiet passage to a better life.

EUPH. Excellent devil! how I love him now! Never did knavery play a juster part.

FRUIT. And why should you, at such an age as this, Dream of a marriage? A thing so far Unfit, nay most unnatural and profane, To stain that holy ordinance, and make it But a mere bargain! For two clods of earth Might have been join'd as well in matrimony. Tis for your soul's health, madam, I do this.

EUPH. How much was I mistaken in this chaplain! I see he has brains.

FREE. Though't be dishonesty In him, yet justly was it plac'd on her: And I could even applaud it.

LADY W. I protest I love this chaplain.

DOT. So do I, sweet mistress, or I am an errant fool.

LADY C. But yet I hope The feoffees may prove honest: I'll try them.

FRUIT. I'll go and bring them to your ladyship. [_Exit_ FRUITFUL.

SIR ARG. I'll stay no longer. Make my litter ready. Lady, farewell; and to you all.

FREE. Nay, sir. Then let me interpose; let me entreat you, By all the rites of neighbourhood, Sir Argent, Make not so sudden a departure now. What, though the business has gone so cross, You may part fairly yet. Stay till to-morrow; Let not the country take too great a notice Of these proceedings and strange breach: 'twill be Nothing but a dishonour to you both. Pray, sir, consent: give me your hand, Sir Argent.

SIR ARG. At your entreaty, sir, I'll stay till morning.

FREE. Before that time, you may consider better. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[18] [A MS. note in one of the former edits. says: "This sudden and total change, unnatural as it is, is one of the characteristics of the old plays."]