SCENE V.

_Enter_ CARELESS, WILD, _and a_ DRAWER, _at the Devil_.

CARE. Jack, how goes the world? Bring us some bottles of the best wine.

DRAW. You shall, sir. Your worship is welcome into England.

CARE. Why, look you: who says a drawer can say nothing but _Anon, anon, sir_; score a quart of sack in the half-moon?[243]

DRAW. Your worship is merry; but I'll fetch you that, sir, shall speak Greek, and make your worship prophesy. You drank none such in your journey.

WILD. Do it then, and make a hole in this angel thou may'st creep through. [_Gives him an angel._] Who is't that peeps? a fiddler? Bring him by the ears.

_Enter the_ TAILOR _that peeps_.

TAI. A tailor, an't like your worship.

CARE. A tailor! Hast thou a stout faith?

TAI. I have had, an't like your worship; but now I am in despair.

CARE. Why, then, thou art damned. Go, go home, and throw thyself into thine own hell; it is the next way to the other.

TAI. I hope your worship is not displeased.

CARE. What dost do here? A tailor without faith! Dost come to take measure of ours?

TAI. No; I come to speak with one Master Jolly, a courtier; a very fine-spoken gentleman and a just counter, but one of the worst paymasters in the world.

WILD. As thou lov'st me, let's keep him here till he comes, and make him valiant with sack, that he may urge him till he beats him. We shall have the sport, and be revenged upon the rogue for dunning a gentleman in a tavern.

[_Aside_.

CARE. I'll charge him. Here, drink, poor fellow, and stay in the next room till he comes.

TAI. I thank your worship, but I'm fasting; and if it please your worship to call for a dozen of manchets, that I may eat a crust first, then I'll be bold with a glass of your sack.

WILD. Here, here, drink. In the meantime, fetch him some bread.

TAI. Will your worship have me drink all this vessel of sack?

CARE. Yes, yes, off with't: 'twill do you no harm.

[_The_ Tailor _drinks_.

WILD. Why do you not take some order with that Jolly, to make him pay thee?

TAI. I have petitioned him often, but can do no good.

CARE. A pox upon him! Petition him! his heart is hardened to ill. Threaten to arrest him: nothing but a sergeant can touch his conscience.

TAI. Truly, gentlemen I have reason to be angry, for he uses me ill when I ask him for my money.

JOLLY. [_Speaking within._] Where is Master Wild and Master Careless?

TAI. I hear his voice.

JOLLY. Let the coach stay. How now, who would he speak with?

_Enter_ JOLLY.

WILD. Do not you know?

JOLLY. Yes, and be you judge, if the rogue does not suffer deservedly. I have bid him any time this twelvemonth but send his wife, I'll pay her, and the rogue replies, nobody shall lie with his wife but himself.

CARE. Nay, if you be such a one--

TAI. No more they shall not. I am but a poor man.

JOLLY. By this hand, he's drunk.

TAI. Nay, then, I arrest you, in mine own name, at his majesty's suit.

WILD. As I live, thou shalt not beat him.

JOLLY. Beat him! I'll kiss him. I'll pay him, and carry him about with me, and be at the charge of sack to keep him in the humour.

[_He hugs the quart-pot._

TAI. Help, rescue! I'll have his body: no bail shall serve.

_Enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. Sir, yonder is a gentleman would speak with you. I do not like his followers.

JOLLY. What are they? bailiffs?

DRAW. Little better.

JOLLY. Send him up alone, and stand you ready at the stairs' feet.

CARE. How can that be?[244]

JOLLY. It is the scrivener at the corner. Pick a quarrel with him for coming into our company. The drawers will be armed behind them, and we will so rout the rascals! Take your swords, and let him[245] sleep.

CARE. What scrivener?

JOLLY. Crop the Brownist: he that the ballad was made on.

CARE. What ballad?

JOLLY. Have you not heard of the scrivener's wife, that brought the blackmoor from the holy land, and made him a Brownist, and in pure charity lay with him, and was delivered of a magpie, a pied prophet, which when the elect saw, they prophesied, if it lived, 'twould prove a great enemy to their sect, for the midwife cried out 'twas born a bishop, with tippet and white sleeves: at which the zealous mother cried, Down with the idol! So the midwife and she, in pure devotion, killed it.

WILD. Killed it! what became of them?

JOLLY. Why, they were taken and condemned, and suffered under a Catholic sheriff, that afflicted them with the litany all the way from Newgate to the gallows; which in roguery he made to be set up altarwise, too, and hanged them without a psalm.

WILD. But how took they that breach of privilege?

JOLLY. I know not: Gregory turned them off, and so they descended and became Brown-martyrs.

WILD. And is the husband at door now?

JOLLY. Yes, yes; but he is married again to a rich widow at Wapping, a wench of another temper: one that you cannot please better than by abusing him. I always pick quarrels with him, that she may reconcile us. The peace is always worth a dinner at least. Hark! I hear him. [_Enter_ CROP.] Save you, Master Crop: you are come in the nick to pledge a health.

CROP. No, sir, I have other business. Shall I be paid my money or no?

[JOLLY _drinks_.

JOLLY. Yes.

CROP. Sir?

JOLLY. You asked whether you should be paid your money, or no, and I said, yes.

CROP. Pray, sir, be plain.

CARE. And be you so, sir. How durst you come into this room and company without leave?

CROP. Sir, I have come into good lords' company ere now.

CARE. It may be so; but you shall either fall upon your knees, and pledge this health, or you come no more into lords' companies: no, by these hilts!

[_They tug him, and make him kneel._

CROP. 'Tis idolatry! Do, martyr me, I will not kneel, nor join in sin with the wicked.

JOLLY. Either kneel, or I'll tear thy cloak which, by the age and looks, may be that which was writ for in the time of the primitive church.

CROP. Pay me, and I'll wear a better. It would be honestlier done, than to abuse this, and profane the text; a text that shows your bishops in those days wore no lawn-sleeves. And you may be ashamed to protect one that will not pay his debts: the cries of the widow will come against you for it.

JOLLY. Remember, sirrah, the dinners and suppers, fat venison and good words, I was fain to give you, christening your children still by the way of brokage. Count that charge, and how often I have kept you from fining for sheriff, and thou art in my debt. Then I am damned for speaking well of thee so often against my conscience, which you never consider.

CROP. I am an honest man, sir.

JOLLY. Then ushering your wife, and Mistress Ugly, her daughter, to plays and masques at court. You think these courtesies deserve nothing in the hundred! 'Tis true, they made room for themselves with their dagger elbows, and when Spider, your daughter, laid about her with her breath, the devil would not have sat near her.

CROP. You did not borrow my money with this language.

JOLLY. No, sirrah: then I was fain to flatter you, and endure the familiarity of your family, and hear (nay, fain sometimes to join in) the lying praises of the holy sister that expired at Tyburn.

CROP. Do, abuse her, and be cursed. 'Tis well known she died a martyr, and her blood will be upon some of you. 'Tis her orphan's money I require, and this is the last time I'll ask it: I'll find a way to get it.

[_He offers to go, and_ JOLLY _stays him_.

JOLLY. Art serious? By that light, I'll consent, and take it for an infinite obligation, if thou wilt teach the rest of my creditors that trick: 'twill save me a world of labour, for hang me if I know how to do't.

CROP. Well, sir, since I see your resolution, I shall make it my business.

CARE. Prythee, let's be rid of this fool.

CROP. Fool! Let him pay the fool his money, and he'll be gone.

JOLLY. No, sir, not a farthing. 'Twas my business to borrow it, and it shall be yours to get it in again. Nay, by this hand, I'll be feasted too, and have good words. Nay, thou shalt lend me more, ere thou gett'st this again.

CROP. I'll lay my action upon you.

JOLLY. Your action! You rogue, lay two.

[_They kick him, and thrust him out of the room._[246]

CARE. Lay three for battery.--What have we here? A she-creditor, too? Who would she speak with?

_Enter_ FAITHFUL. WILD _and_ CARELESS _return and meet her_.

WILD. She looks as if she had trusted in her time.

CARE. Would you speak with any here, old gentlewoman?

FAITH. My business is to Master Jolly.

CARE. From yourself, or are you but a messenger?

FAITH. My business, sir, is from a lady.

CARE. From a lady! From what lady, pray? Why so coy?

FAITH. From a lady in the town.

CARE. Hoh, hoh! from a lady in the town! Is it possible? I should have guessed you came from a lady in the suburbs or some country-madam by your riding face.

_Enter_ JOLLY _again_.

JOLLY. I think we have routed the rascals. Faithful! what makes thy gravity in a tavern?

FAITH. Sport, it seems, for your saucy companions.

JOLLY. Ho, ho, Mull,[247] ho! No fury, Faithful.

FAITH. 'Tis well, sir. My lady presents her service to you, and hath sent you a letter: there's my business.

CARE. Prythee, who is her lady?

JOLLY. The Lady Loveall.

CARE. O, O, does she serve that old lady? God help her!

FAITH. God help her! Pray for yourself, sir: my lady scorns your prayers.

JOLLY. Faithful, come hither. Prythee, is thy lady drunk?

FAITH. Drunk, sir?

JOLLY. Ay, drunk or mad? she'd never writ this else. She requires me here to send back by you the pearl she gave me this morning, which, sure, she'd never do if she were sober; for, you know, I earned them hard.

FAITH. I know! What do I know? You will not defame my lady, will you?

CARE. By no means. This is by way of counsel. Fie! give a thing and take a thing?[248] If he did not perform, he shall come at night, and pay his scores.

FAITH. 'Tis well, sir. Is this your return for my lady's favours? Shall I have the pearl, sir?

JOLLY. No; and tell her, 'tis the opinion of us all, he that opens her stinking oyster[249] is worthy of the pearl.

FAITH. You are a foul-mouthed fellow, sirrah, and I shall live to see you load a gallows, when my lady shall find the way to her own again.

JOLLY. If she miss, there are divers can direct her, you know. Adieu, Faithful. Do you hear? Steal privately down by the back-door, lest some knavish boy spy thee, and call thine age Bawd.

[_Exit_ FAITHFUL.

CARE. Prythee, who is this thing?

JOLLY. 'Tis my lady's waiting-woman, her bawd, her she-confessor, herself at second-hand. Her beginning was simple and below stairs, till her lady finding her to be a likely promising bawd, secret as the key at her girdle, obedient as her thoughts, those virtues raised her from the flat petticoat and kercher to the gorget and bumroll. And I remember 'twas good sport at first to see the wench perplexed with her metamorphosis. She since has been in love with all the family, and now sighs after the Levite; and if he forsake her too, I prophesy a waiting-woman's curse will fall upon her: to die old, despised, poor, and out of fashion.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN.

CAPT. Why do you not hang out a painted cloth, and take twopence apiece, and let in all the tame fools at door--those sons of wonder that now gape, and think you mad?[250]

CARE. 'Tis no matter what they think: madness is proper here. Are not taverns Bacchus's temples, the place of madness? Does not the sign of madness hang out at the door?

JOLLY.----while we within possess our joys and cups, as full of pleasure as weeping Niobe's afflicted eyes were swelled with grief and tears! Blessing on the cause that made our joys thus complete: for see Plutus in our pockets, Mars by our sides, Bacchus in our heads, self-love in our hearts, and change of virgins in our arms; beauties whose eyes and hearts speak love and welcome; no rigid thinkers, no niggard beauties, that maliciously rake up their fire in green sickness to preserve a spark, that shall flame only in some dull day of marriage: let such swear and forswear, till (of the whole parish) they love each other least, whilst we wisely set out our cobwebs in the most perspicuous places to catch these foolish flies.

CARE. He's in the right. Dost think we retreated hither to beat a bargain for a score of sheep, or dispute the legality of votes and weigh the power of prerogative and parliament, and club for concluding sack, or read the Fathers here, till we grow costive, like those that have worn their suffering elbows bare, to find a knowledge to perplex 'em? A pox on such brain-breaking thoughts! avoid them, and take me into my[251] hand a glass of eternal sack, and prophesy the restoration of senses and the fall of a lover from grace; which our dear friend Master Jolly will prove to whom the Lady Loveall (by Faithful lately departed) sent for the pearl you wot of.

CAPT. But I hope he had the grace to keep them.

JOLLY. No, no; I'm a fool, I!

CAPT. Was not my boy here?

JOLLY. No, we saw him not.

CAPT. A pox of the rogue! he's grown so lazy.

WILD. Your boy is come in just now, and called for the key of the back-door. There's women with him.

CAPT. O, that's well! 'tis Wanton: I sent for her to laugh over the story of the old lady and her pearl.

_Enter_ BOY.

Where have you been all this while, sirrah?

BOY. I could overtake the coach, sir, no sooner.

CAPT. The coach! what coach?

BOY. The Lady Loveall's.

CAPT. The Lady Loveall's! Why, what had you to do with her coach?

BOY. I went to give her the letter your worship sent her.

CAPT. The letter! What letter?

BOY. That your worship gave me.

CAPT. That I writ at Ned's house to Wanton?

BOY. The letter you gave me, sir, was directed to the Lady Loveall, and she stormed like a mad woman at reading of it.

[_The_ CAPTAIN _threatens to beat him_.

CARE. Why, thou wilt not beat the boy for thy own fault? What letter was it?

CAPT. 'Twas enough; only a relation of the pearl, wherein she finds herself sufficiently abused to Wanton.

JOLLY. Now, gentlemen, you have two to laugh at.

CAPT. A pox of fooling! let's resolve what to do. There's no denying, for she has all the particulars under my hand.

BOY. You must resolve of something, for she's coming, and stayed only till the back-door was opened.

CAPT. How did she know I was here?

BOY. Your worship bad me tell her you would stay here for her.

CARE. How came this mistake?

CAPT. Why, the devil owed us a shame, it seems. You know I went home to give Wanton an account how we advanced in our design; and when I was writing the superscription, I remember the boy came in and told me the Lady Loveall passed by.

JOLLY. And so it seems you, in pure mistake, directed your letter to her.

CARE. Well, resolve what you'll do with her when she comes.

CAPT. Faith, bear it like men; 'tis only an old lady lost; let's resolve to defy her, we are sure of our pearl; but lest we prolong the war, take the first occasion you can all to avoid the room. When she's alone, I'll try whether she'll listen to a composition.

JOLLY. Have you no friends in the close committee?

CAPT. Yes, yes, I am an Essex man.[252]

CARE. Then get some of them to move, it may be voted no letter.

JOLLY. Ay, ay; and after 'tis voted no letter, then vote it false; scandalous, and illegal, and that is in it: they have a precedent for it in the Danish packet, which they took from a foolish fellow who, presuming upon the law of nations, came upon an embassy to the king without an order or pass from both houses!

CAPT. Hark, I hear her coming.

_Enter_ LOVEALL _and_ FAITHFUL.

LOVE. Sir, I received a letter, but by what accident, I know not; for I believe it was not intended [to] me, though the contents concern me.

CAPT. Madam, 'tis too late to deny it; is it peace or war you bring? without dispute, if war, I hang out my defiance: if peace, I yield my weapon into your hands.

LOVE. Are you all unworthy? your whole sex falsehood? is it not possible to oblige a man to be loyal? this is such a treachery no age can match! apply yourself with youth and wit to gain a lady's love and friendship, only to betray it? was it not enough you commanded my fortune, but you must wreck my honour too, and instead of being grateful for that charity which still assisted your wants, strive to pay me with injuries, and attempt to make the world believe I pay to lose my fame; and then make me the scorned subject of your whore's mirth? Base and unworthy! [_He smiles._] Do you smile, false one? I shall find a time for you too, and my vengeance shall find you all.

FAITH. Yea, sir; and you that had such ready wit to proclaim my lady whore, and me bawd, I hope to see you load a gallows for it.

CAPT. Once again, is it peace or war?

LOVE. Peace! I'll have thy blood first, dog. Where's my pearl? [_She speaks to_ WILD.] You ought to right me, sir, in this particular; it was to you I sent them.

WILD. Madam, I sent not for them.

CAPT. No more words: I have them, I earned them, and you paid them.

FAITH. You are a foul-mouthed fellow, sirrah.

LOVE. Peace, wench, I scorn their slander, it cannot shake my honour: 'tis too weighty and too fixed for their calumny.

JOLLY. I'll be sworn for my part on't; I think it is a great honour: I am sure I had as much as I could carry away in ten nights, and yet there was no miss on't.

CAPT. You! I think so; there's no mark of my work, you see, and yet I came after thee, and brought away loads would have sunk a sedan-man.

WILD. By this relation she should be a woman of a great fame.

CARE. Let that consideration, with her condition and her age, move some reverence, at least to what she was. Madam, I am sorry I cannot serve you in this particular.

[_Exeunt_ JOLLY _and_ CARELESS.

LOVE. I see all your mean baseness: pursue your scorn. Come, let's go, wench, I shall find some to right my fame; and though I have lost my opinion, I have gained a knowledge how to distinguish of love hereafter; and I shall scorn you and all your sex, that have not soul enough to value a noble friendship.

WILD. Pray, madam, let me speak with you.

CAPT. We'll have no whispering: I said it, and I'll maintain it with my sword.

_Enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. Sir, there's one without would speak with you.

CAPT. With me?

DRAW. No, sir, with Master Wild.

WILD. Madam, I'll wait upon you presently.

[_Exit_ WILD.

CAPT. Madam, I know my company is displeasing to you, therefore I'll take my leave. Drawer, show me another room.

[_The_ CAPTAIN _makes a turn or two; they look at each other, then he goes out_.

LOVE. O Faithful, Faithful! I am most miserably abused, and can find no way to my revenge.

FAITH. Madam, I'll give them ratsbane, and speedily too, ere they can tell; for that rascal the captain has a tongue else will proclaim you, and undo your fame for ever.

LOVE. Ay, ay, my fame, my fame, Faithful: and if it were not for mine honour, which I have kept unstained to this minute, I would not care.

FAITH. This it is: you will set your affection upon every young thing: I could but tell you on't.

LOVE. Who could have suspected they would have been so false in their loves to me, that have been so faithful to them?

_Enter_ DRAWER.

Honest friend, where is Master Wild?

DRAW. The other gentlemen carried him away with them.

LOVE. Are they all gone then?

DRAW. Yes, by this hand. These gentlemen are quickly satisfied: what an ugly whore they have got! how she states it.[253]

[_Aside._

LOVE. Come, let's go, wench.

[_She offers to go._

DRAW. Mistress, who pays the reckoning?

LOVE. What says he?

FAITH. He asks me who pays the reckoning?

LOVE. Who pays the reckoning! Why, what have we to do with the reckoning?

DRAW. Shut the door, Dick. [_To_ LOVEALL.] We'll have the reckoning before you go.

FAITH. Why, goodman sauce-box, you will not make my lady pay for their reckoning, will you?

DRAW. My lady! a pox of her title, she'd need of something to make her pass.

FAITH. What do you say, sirrah?

DRAW. I say, the gentlemen paid well for their sport, and I know no reason why we should lose our reckoning.

LOVE. What do you take me for, my friend?

DRAW. In troth, I take you for nothing; but I would be loth to take you for that use I think they make shift with you for.

FAITH. Madam, this is that rascally captain's plot.

LOVE. Patience, patience! O, for a bite at the slave's heart. Friend, mistake me not, my name is Loveall, a lady: send one along with me, and you shall have your money.

DRAW. You must pardon me, madam, I am but a servant: if you be a lady, pray sit in an inner room, and send home your woman for the money: the sum is six pounds, and be pleased to remember the waiters.

LOVE. Go, Faithful, go fetch the money. O, revenge, revenge! shall I lose my honour, and have no revenge?

[_Exeunt omnes._