Chapter 2

WIFE. What will become of us? all will away. My husband never ceases in expense, Both to consume his credit and his house; And tis set down by heaven’s just decree, That Riot’s child must needs be beggery. Are these the vertues that his you did promise? Dice, and voluptuous meetings, midnight Revels, Taking his bed with surfetts: Ill beseeming The ancient honor of his house and name! And this not all: but that which kills me most, When he recounts his Losses and false fortunes, The weakness of his state so much dejected, Not as a man repentant, but half mad, His fortunes cannot answer his expense: He sits and sullenly locks up his Arms, Forgetting heaven looks downward, which makes him Appear so dreadful that he frights my heart, Walks heavily, as if his soul were earth: Not penitent for those his sins are past, But vext his money cannot make them last:— A fearful melancholy, ungodly sorrow. Oh yonder he comes, now in despite of ills I’ll speak to him, and I will hear him speak, And do my best to drive it from his heart.

[Enter Husband.]

HUSBAND. Pox oth Last throw! it made Five hundred Angels vanish from my sight. I’m damnd, I’m damnd: the Angels have forsook me. Nay, tis certainly true: for he that has No coin is damnd in this world: he’s gone, he’s gone.

WIFE. Dear husband.

HUSBAND. Oh! most punishment of all, I have a wife.

WIFE. I do intreat you as you love your soul, Tell me the cause of this your discontent.

HUSBAND. A vengeance strip thee naked! thou art cause, Effect, quality, property, thou, thou, thou!

[Exit.]

WIFE. Bad, turnd to worse! both beggery of the soul, As of the body. And so much unlike Him self at first, as if some vexed spirit Had got his form upon him.—

[Enter Husband again.]

He comes again. He says I am the cause; I never yet Spoke less then words of duty, and of love.

HUSBAND. If marriage be honourable, then Cuckolds are honourable, for they cannot be made without marriage. Fool! what meant I to marry to get beggars? now must my eldest son be a knave or nothing; he cannot live uppot’h fool, for he will have no land to maintain him: that mortgage sits like a snaffle upon mine inheritance, and makes me chaw upon Iron. My second son must be a promoter, and my third a thief, or an underputter, a slave pander. Oh beggery, beggery, to what base uses dost thou put a man! I think the Devil scorns to be a bawd. He bears himself more proudly, has more care on’s credit. Base, slavish, abject, filthy poverty!

WIFE. Good sir, by all our vows I do beseech you, Show me the true cause of your discontent.

HUSBAND. Money, money, money, and thou must supply me.

WIFE. Alas, I am the lest cause of your discontent, Yet what is mine, either in rings or Jewels, Use to your own desire, but I beseech you, As y’are a gentleman by many bloods, Though I my self be out of your respect, Think on the state of these three lovely boys You have been father to.

HUSBAND. Puh! Bastards, bastards, bastards; begot in tricks, begot in tricks.

WIFE. Heaven knows how those words wrong me, but I may Endure these griefs among a thousand more. Oh, call to mind your lands already mortgage, Your self wound with debts, your hopeful brother At the university in bonds for you, Like to be ceasd upon; And—

HUSBAND. Ha done, thou harlot, Whom, though for fashion sake I married, I never could abide; thinkst thou thy words Shall kill my pleasures? Fall off to thy friends, Thou and thy bastards beg: I will not bate A whit in humor! midnight, still I love you, And revel in your Company. Curbd in, Shall it be said in all societies, That I broke custom, that I flagd in money? No, those thy jewels I will play as freely As when my state was fullest.

WIFE. Be it so.

HUSBAND. Nay I protest, and take that for an earnest,

[spurns her]

I will for ever hold thee in contempt, And never touch the sheets that cover thee, But be divorst in bed till thou consent, Thy dowry shall be sold to give new life Unto those pleasures which I most affect.

WIFE. Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me, And what the law shall give me leave to do You shall command.

HUSBAND. Look it be done: shall I want dust and like a slave Wear nothing in my pockets but my hands To fill them up with nails?

[holding his hands in his pockets]

Oh much against my blood! Let it be done. I was never made to be a looker on, A bawd to dice; I’ll shake the drabs my self And made em yield. I say, look it be done.

WIFE. I take my leave: it shall.

[Exit.]

HUSBAND. Speedily, speedily. I hate the very hour I chose a wife: a trouble, trouble! three children like three evils hang upon me. Fie, fie, fie, strumpet and bastards, strumpet and bastards!

[Enter three Gentlemen hearing him.]

1 GENTLEMAN. Still do those loathsome thoughts Jar on your tongue? Your self to stain the honour of your wife, Nobly descended! Those whom men call mad Endanger others; but he’s more than mad That wounds himself, whose own words do proclaim Scandals unjust, to soil his better name: It is not fit; I pray, forsake it.

2 GENTLEMAN. Good sir, let modesty reprove you.

3 GENTLEMAN. Let honest kindness sway so much with you.

HUSBAND. God den, I thank you, sir, how do you? adieu! I’m glad to see you. Farewell Instructions, Admonitions.

[Exeunt Gentlemen.]

[Enter a servant.]

HUSBAND. How now, sirra; what would you?

SERVANT. Only to certify you, sir, that my mistress was met by the way, by them who were sent for her up to London by her honorable uncle, your worships late guardian.

HUSBAND. So, sir, then she is gone and so may you be: But let her look that the thing be done she wots of: or hell will stand more pleasant then her house at home.

[Exit servant.]

[Enter a Gentleman.]

GENTLEMAN. Well or ill met, I care not.

HUSBAND. No, nor I.

GENTLEMAN. I am come with confidence to chide you.

HUSBAND. Who? me? Chide me? Doo’t finely then: let it not move me, For if thou chidst me angry, I shall strike.

GENTLEMAN. Strike thine own follies, for it is they deserve To be well beaten. We are now in private: There’s none but thou and I. Thou’rt fond and peevish, An unclean rioter: thy lands and Credit Lie now both sick of a consumption. I am sorry for thee: that man spends with shame That with his riches does consume his name: And such thou art.

HUSBAND. Peace.

GENTLEMAN. No, thou shalt hear me further: Thy fathers and forefathers worthy honors, Which were our country monuments, our grace, Follies in thee begin now to deface. The spring time of thy youth did fairly promise Such a most fruitful summer to thy friends It scarce can enter into mens beliefs, Such dearth should hang on thee. We that see it, Are sorry to believe it: in thy change, This voice into all places will be hurld: Thou and the devil has deceived the world.

HUSBAND. I’ll not indure thee.

GENTLEMAN. But of all the worst: Thy vertuous wife, right honourably allied, Thou hast proclaimed a strumpet.

HUSBAND. Nay, the, I know thee. Thou art her champion, thou, her private friend, The party you wot on.

GENTLEMAN. Oh ignoble thought. I am past my patient blood: shall I stand idle And see my reputation toucht to death?

HUSBAND. Ta’s galde you, this, has it?

GENTLEMAN. No, monster, I will prove My thoughts did only tend to vertuous love.

HUSBAND. Love of her vertues? there it goes.

GENTLEMEN. Base spirit, To lay thy hate upon the fruitful Honor Of thine own bed.

[They fight and the Husband’s hurt.]

HUSBAND. Oh!

GENTLEMAN. Woult thou yield it yet?

HUSBAND. Sir, Sir, I have not done with you.

GENTLEMAN. I hope nor nere shall do.

[Fight again.]

HUSBAND. Have you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?

GENTLEMAN. No, plain and right. He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.

[Husband falls down.]

HUSBAND. Hard fortune, am I leveld with the ground?

GENTLEMAN. Now, sir, you lie at mercy.

HUSBAND. Aye, you slave.

GENTLEMAN. Alas, that hate should bring us to our grave. You see my sword’s not thirsty for your life, I am sorrier for your wound then your self. Y’are of a vertuous house, show vertuous deeds; Tis not your honour, tis your folly bleeds; Much good has been expected in your life, Cancel not all men’s hopes: you have a wife Kind and obedient: heap not wrongful shame On her and your posterity, nor blame Your overthrow; let only sin be sore, And by this fall, rise never to fall more. And so I leave you.

[Exit.]

HUSBAND Has the dog left me, then, After his tooth hath left me? oh, my heart Would fain leap after him. Revenge, I say, I’m mad to be reveng’d. My strumpet wife, It is thy quarrel that rips thus my flesh, And makes my breast spit blood, but thou shalt bleed. Vanquisht? got down? unable e’en to speak? Surely tis want of money makes men weak. Aye, twas that orethrew me; I’d nere been down else.

[Exit.]