SCENE V.

_Enter_ WILD _and_ CARELESS.

WILD. Now is the parson's wife so contemptible?

CARE. No; but I'm so full of that resolution to dislike the sex, that I will allow none honest, none handsome. I tell thee, we must beat down the price with ourselves; court none of them, but let their maidenheads and their faces lie upon their hands, till they're weary of the commodity: then they'll haunt us to find proper chapmen to deal for their ware.

WILD. I like this, but 'twill be long adoing, and it may be, ere they be forced to sell, our bank will be exhausted, and we shall not be able to purchase.

CARE. Ay, but we'll keep a credit, and at three six months thou and the captain shall be my factors.

WILD. You had best have a partner, else such an undertaking would break a better back than yours.

CARE. No partners in such commodities: your factor that takes up maidenheads, 'tis upon his own account still.

WILD. But what course will you take to purchase this trade with women?

CARE. I am resolved to put on their own silence and modesty, answer _forsooth_, swear nothing but _God's nigs_, and hold arguments of their own cold tenets, as if I believed there were no true love below the line, then sigh when 'tis proper, and with forced studies betray the enemy who, seeing my eye fixed on her, her vanity thinks I am lost in admiration, calls and shakes me, ere I wake out of my design, and being collected, answer out of purpose, _Love, divinest? yes, who is it that is mortal and does not? or which amongst all the senate of the gods can gaze upon those eyes, and carry thence the power he brought?_ This will start her.

WILD. Yes, and make her think thee mad.

CARE. Why, that's my design; for then I start too, and rub my eyes as if I waked: then sigh and strangle a yawn, till I have wrung it into tears, with which I rise as if o'ercome with grief; then kiss her hands, and let fall those witnesses of faith and love, bribed for my design. This takes; for who would suspect such a devil as craft and youth to live together?

WILD. But what kind of women do you think this will take?

CARE. All kind of women. Those that think themselves handsome, it being probable, conclude it real; and those that are handsome in their opinion, that small number will believe it, because it agrees with their wishes.

WILD. And when you are gone, it may be they sigh, and their love breaks out into paper, and what then?

CARE. What then? why then I'll laugh, and show thee their letters, and teach the world how easy 'tis to win any woman.

WILD. This is the way: and be sure to dislike all but her you design for: be scarce civil to any of the sex besides.

CARE. That's my meaning; but to her that I mean my prey, all her slave: she shall be my deity, and her opinion my religion.

WILD. And while you sad it once to one, I'll talk freer than a privileged fool, and swear as unreasonably as losing gamesters, and abuse thee for thinking to reclaim a woman by thy love: call them all bowls thrown, that will run where they will run, and lovers like fools run after them, crying, _rub_ and _fly_ for me. I believe none fair, nor handsome, nor honest, but the kind.

CARE. We must make the captain of our plot, lest he betray us. This will gain us some revenge upon the lovers to whom I grudge the wenches, not that I believe they're worth half the cost they pay for them. And we may talk; but 'tis not our opinion can make them happier or more miserable.

_Enter_ JOLLY.

WILD. Jolly! Will, where hast thou been? We had such sport with the parson of our town: he's married this morning to Wanton.

JOLLY. Who? the captain's wench? he's in a good humour then. As you love mirth, let's find him: I have news to blow his rage with, and 'twill be mirth to us to see him divided betwixt the several causes of his anger, and lose himself in his rage, while he disputes which is the greater. Your opinion, gentlemen: is this or his wench the greater loss?

CARE. What hast thou there? pearl![218] they're false, I hope.

[_Here he pulls out the pearl._

JOLLY. Why do you hope so?

CARE. Because I am thy friend, and would be loth to have thee hanged for stealing.

JOLLY. I will not swear they are honestly come by: but I'll be sworn there's neither force nor theft in't.

WILD. Prythee, speak out of riddles: here's none but your friends.

JOLLY. Faith, take it. You have heard the captain brag of an old lady, which he thinks he keeps close in a box; but I know where hangs a key can let a friend in, or so. From her, my brace of worthies, whose wits are dulled with plenty this morning, with three good words and four good deeds I earned this toy.

CARE. The mirth yet we will all share. I am in pain till we find him, that we may vex his wit, that he presumes so much on.

WILD. Let's go, let's go. I will desire him to let me see his wench: I will not understand him if he says she's gone.

CARE. I'll beg of him, for old acquaintance' sake, to let me see his old lady.

JOLLY. Hark! I hear his voice.----

CAPT. [_Within._] Which way?

CARE. The game plays itself. Begin with him, Ned, while we talk as if we were busy: we'll take our cue.

WILD. When I put off my hat.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN.

CAPT. 'Sblood, I thought you had been sunk: I have been hunting you these four hours. Death! you might ha' left word where you went, and not put me to hunt like Tom Fool. 'Tis well you are at London, where you know the way home.

WILD. Why in choler? We have been all this while searching you. Come, this is put on to divert me from claiming your promise. I must see the wench.

CAPT. You cannot, adad: adad, you cannot.

WILD. I did not think you would have refused such a kindness.

CARE. What's that?

WILD. Nothing, a toy. He refuses to show me his wench!

CARE. The devil he does! What! have we been thus long comrades, and had all things in common, and must we now come to have common wenches particular? I say, thou shalt see her, and lie with her too, if thou wilt.

JOLLY. What! in thy dumps, brother? Call to thy aid two-edged wit. The captain sad! 'tis prophetic: I'd as lieve[219] have dreamt of pearl, or the loss of my teeth: yet if he be musty, I'll warrant thee, Ned, I'll help thee to a bout. I know his cloak, his long cloak that hides her: I am acquainted with the parson: he shall befriend thee.

CAPT. 'Tis very well, gentlemen; but none of you have seen her yet?

WILD. Yes, but we have, by thyself--by thy anger, which is now bigger than thou. By chance we crossed her coming from church, leading in her hand the parson, to whom she swore she was this day married.

JOLLY. And our friendships were now guiding us to find thee out, to comfort thee after the treachery of thy Levite.

CARE. Come, bear it like a man; there are more wenches. What hast thou spied?

[_He gives no answer, but peeps under_ Jolly's _hat_.

WILD. His pearl, I believe.

CAPT. Gentlemen, I see you are merry: I'll leave you. I must go a little way to inquire about a business.

WILD. H' has got a sore eye, I think.

CAPT. I will only ask one question, and return.

CARE. No, faith, stay, and be satisfied.

JOLLY. Do, good brother; for I believe there is no question that you now would ask, but here's an oracle can resolve you.

CAPT. Are those pearl true?

JOLLY. Yes.

CAPT. And did not you steal them?

JOLLY. No.

CARE. Nor he did not buy them with ready money, but took them upon mortgage of himself to an old lady.

JOLLY. Dwelling at the sign of the Buck in Broad Street. Are you satisfied, or must I play the oracle still?

CAPT. No, no; I am satisfied.

JOLLY. Like jealous men that take their wives at it, are you not?

CAPT. Well, very well: 'tis visible I am abused on all hands. But, gentlemen, why all against me?

CARE. To let you see your wit's mortal, and not proof against all.

WILD. The parson hath shot it through with a jest.

CAPT. Gentlemen, which of you, faith, had a hand in that?

JOLLY. Faith, none; only a general joy to find the captain overreached.

CAPT. But, do you go sharers in the profit as well as in the jest?

JOLLY. No, faith, the toy's mine own.

CAPT. They are very fine, and you may afford a good pennyworth. Will you sell them?

JOLLY. Sell them! ay, where's a chapman?

CAPT. Here; I'll purchase them.

JOLLY. Thou! no, no, I have barred thee, bye and main,[220] for I am resolved not to fight for them: that excludes thy purchase by the sword; and thy wench has proved such a loss, in thy last adventure of wit, that I'm afraid it will spoil thy credit that way too.

CAPT. Gentlemen, as a friend, let me have the refusal: set your price.

WILD. He's serious.

CARE. Leave fooling.

JOLLY. Why, if thou couldst buy them, what wouldst thou do with them?

CAPT. They're very fair ones; let me see them: methinks they should match very well with these?

JOLLY. These! which?

OMNES. Which?

CARE. They are true.

CAPT. Yes, but not earned with a pair of stol'n verses, of, _I was not born till now, This my first night, And so forsooth_; nor given as a charm against lust.

CARE. What means all this?

JOLLY. What! why, 'tis truth, and it means to shame the devil. By this good day, he repeats the same words with which I gathered these pearls.

WILD. Why, then, we have two to laugh at.

CARE. And all friends hereafter. Let's fool all together.

CAPT. Gentlemen with the fine wits, and my very good friends, do you, or you, or he, think I'll keep you company to make you laugh, but that I draw my honey from you too?

CARE. Come, come, the captain's in the right.

CAPT. Yes, yes, the captain knows it, and dares tell you your wit, your fortune, and his face, are but my ploughs; and I would have my fine monsieur know, who, in spite of my counsel, will be finer than his mistress, and appears before her so curiously built, she dares not play with him for fear of spoiling him: and to let him know the truth I speak, to his fair hands I present this letter, but withal give him to understand the contents belong to me.

[_He reads the letter._

WILD. The pearl are sent to me.

CAPT. I deny that, unless you prove you sent me: for the letter begins, "Sir, this noble gentleman, the bearer, whom you are pleased to make the messenger of your love," and so forth. And now you should do well to inquire for that noble gentleman, and take an account of him how he has laid out your love; and it may be, he'll return you pearl for it. And now, gentlemen, I dare propose a peace, at least a cessation of wit (but what is defensive) till such time as the plot which is now in my head be effected, in which you have all your shares.

WILD. So she knows I have not the pearl, I am content.

CAPT. She'll quickly find that, when she sees you come not to-night according to my appointment, and hears I have sold the pearl.

JOLLY. Here then ceaseth our offensive war.

CAPT. I'll give you counsel worth two ropes of pearl.

CARE. But the wench--how came the parson to get her?

CAPT. Faith, 'tis hard to say which laboured most, he or I, to make that match; but the knave did well. There it is, if you assist, I mean to lay the scene of your mirth to-night; for I am not yet fully revenged upon the rogue: for that I know him miserable, is nothing, till he believe so too. Wanton and I have laid the plot.

JOLLY. Do you hold correspondence?

CAPT. Correspondence! I tell thee, the plots we laid to draw him on would make a comedy.

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

SER. Sir, the ladies stay dinner.

JOLLY. And as we go, I'll tell you all the story, and after dinner be free from all engagements, as we promised thee; and, follow but our[221] directions, I'll warrant you mirth and a pretty wench.

OMNES. Agreed; anything that breeds mirth is welcome.

JOLLY. Not a word at the widow's: let them go on quietly, and steal their wedding too.

CAPT. I heard a bird sing, as if it were concluded amongst the couples.

WILD. They have been long about: my coz is a girl deserves more haste to her bed. He has arrived there by carrier's journeys.

CARE. But that I hate wooing, by this good day, I like your aunt so well and her humour, she should scarce be thrown away upon pale-face, that has sighed her into a wedding-ring, and will but double her jointure.

CAPT. Why, ay, thus it should be. Pray let us make them the seat of the war all dinner, and continue united and true among ourselves; then we may defy all foreign danger.

Jolly. And with full bowls let us crown this peace, and sing, _Wit without war no mirth doth bring._

[_Exeunt._