SCENE IV.--_The back of URSULA'S Booth.

OVERDO in the stocks. People, etc.

_Enter QUARLOUS with the license, and EDGWORTH._

QUAR. Well, sir, you are now discharged; beware of being spied hereafter.

EDG. Sir, will it please you, enter in here at Ursula's, and take part of a silken gown, a velvet petticoat, or a wrought smock; I am promised such, and I can spare a gentleman a moiety.

QUAR. Keep it for your companions in beastliness, I am none of them, sir. If I had not already forgiven you a greater trespass, or thought you yet worth my beating, I would instruct your manners, to whom you made your offers. But go your ways, talk not to me, the hangman is only fit to discourse with you; the hand of beadle is too merciful a punishment for your trade of life. [_Exit Edgworth._]--I am sorry I employ'd this fellow, for he thinks me such; _facinus quos inquinat, æquat._ But it was for sport; and would I make it serious, the getting of this license is nothing to me, without other circumstances concur. I do think how impertinently I labour, if the word be not mine that the ragged fellow mark'd: and what advantage I have given Ned Winwife in this time now of working her, though it be mine. He'll go near to form to her what a debauched rascal I am, and fright her out of all good conceit of me: I should do so by him, I am sure, if I had the opportunity. But my hope is in her temper yet; and it must needs be next to despair, that is grounded on any part of a woman's discretion. I would give, by my troth now, all I could spare, to my clothes and my sword, to meet my tatter'd soothsayer again, who was my judge in the question, to know certainly whose word he has damn'd or saved; for till then I live but under a reprieve. I must seek him. Who be these?

_Enter BRISTLE and some of the Watch, with WASPE._

WASPE. Sir, you are a Welsh cuckold, and a prating runt, and no constable.

BRI. You say very well.--Come, put in his leg in the middle roundel, and let him hole there.

[_They put him in the stocks._

WASPE. You stink of leeks, metheglin, and cheese, you rogue.

BRI. Why, what is that to you, if you sit sweetly in the stocks in the mean time? if you have a mind to stink too, your breeches sit close enough to your bum. Sit you merry, sir.

QUAR. How now, Numps?

WASPE. It is no matter how; pray you look off.

QUAR. Nay, I'll not offend you, Numps; I thought you had sat there to be seen.

WASPE. And to be sold, did you not? pray you mind your business, an you have any.

QUAR. Cry you mercy, Numps; does your leg lie high enough?

_Enter HAGGISE._

BRI. How now, neighbour Haggise, what says justice Overdo's worship to the other offenders?

HAG. Why, he says just nothing; what should he say, or where should he say? He is not to be found, man; he has not been seen in the Fair here all this live-long day, never since seven a clock i' the morning. His clerks know not what to think on't. There is no court of Pie-poudres yet. Here they be return'd.

_Enter others of the Watch with BUSY._

BRI. What shall be done with them, then, in your discretion?

HAG. I think we were best put them in the stocks in discretion (there they will be safe in discretion) for the valour of an hour, or such a thing, till his worship come.

BRI. It is but a hole matter if we do, neighbour Haggise; come, sir, [_to Waspe._] here is company for you; heave up the stocks.

[_As they open the stocks, Waspe puts his shoe on his hand, and slips it in for his leg._

WASPE. I shall put a trick upon your Welsh diligence perhaps. [_Aside._

BRI. Put in your leg, sir. [_To Busy._

QUAR. What, rabbi Busy! is he come?

BUSY. I do obey thee; the lion may roar, but he cannot bite. I am glad to be thus separated from the heathen of the land, and put apart in the stocks, for the holy cause.

WASPE. What are you, sir?

BUSY. One that rejoiceth in his affliction, and sitteth here to prophesy the destruction of fairs and May-games, wakes and Whitson-ales, and doth sigh and groan for the reformation of these abuses.

WASPE. [_to Overdo._] And do you sigh and groan too, or rejoice in your affliction?

OVER. I do not feel it, I do not think of it, it is a thing without me: Adam, thou art above these batteries, these contumelies. _In te manca ruit fortuna_, as thy friend Horace says; thou art one, _Quem neque pauperies, neque mors, neque vincula, terrent._ And therefore, as another friend of thine says, I think it be thy friend Persius, _Non te quæsiveris extra._

QUAR. What's here! a stoic in the stocks? the fool is turn'd philosopher.

BUSY. Friend, I will leave to communicate my spirit with you, if I hear any more of those superstitious relics, those lists of Latin, the very rags of Rome, and patches of popery.

WASPE. Nay, an you begin to quarrel, gentlemen, I'll leave you. I have paid for quarrelling too lately: look you, a device, but shifting in a hand for a foot. God be wi' you.

[_Slips out his hand._

BUSY. Wilt thou then leave thy brethren in tribulation?

WASPE. For this once, sir.

[_Exit, running._

BUSY. Thou art a halting neutral; stay him there, stop him, that will not endure the heat of persecution.

BRI. How now, what's the matter?

BUSY. He is fled, he is fled, and dares not sit it out.

BRI. What, has he made an escape! which way? follow, neighbour Haggise.

[_Exeunt Haggise and Watch._

_Enter DAME PURECRAFT._

PURE. O me, in the stocks! have the wicked prevail'd?

BUSY. Peace, religious sister, it is my calling, comfort yourself; an extraordinary calling, and done for my better standing, my surer standing, hereafter.

_Enter TROUBLEALL, with a can._

TRO. By whose warrant, by whose warrant, this?

QUAR. O, here's my man dropt in I look'd for.

OVER. Ha!

PURE. O, good sir, they have set the faithful here to be wonder'd at; and provided holes for the holy of the land.

TRO. Had they warrant for it? shew'd they justice Overdo's hand? if they had no warrant, they shall answer it.

_Re-enter HAGGISE._

BRI. Sure you did not lock the stocks sufficiently, neighbour Toby.

HAG. No! see if you can lock them better.

BRI. They are very sufficiently lock'd, and truly; yet something is in the matter.

TRO. True, your warrant is the matter that is in question; by what warrant?

BRI. Madman, hold your peace, I will put you in his room else in the very same hold, do you see?

QUAR. How, is he a madman?

TRO. Shew me justice Overdo's warrant, I obey you.

HAG. You are a mad fool, hold your tongue.

[_Exeunt Haggise and Bristle._

TRO. In justice Overdo's name, I drink to you, and here's my warrant.

[_Shews his can._

OVER. Alas, poor wretch! how it yearns my heart for him! [_Aside._

QUAR. If he be mad, it is in vain to question him. I'll try him though.--Friend, there was a gentlewoman shew'd you two names some hours since, Argalus and Palemon, to mark in a book; which of them was it you mark'd?

TRO. I mark no name but Adam Overdo, that is the name of names, he only is the sufficient magistrate; and that name I reverence, shew it me.

QUAR. This fellow's mad indeed: I am further off now than afore.

OVER. I shall not breathe in peace till I have made him some amends. [_Aside._

QUAR. Well, I will make another use of him is come in my head: I have a nest of beards in my trunk, one something like his.

_Re-enter BRISTLE and HAGGISE._

BRI. This mad fool has made me that I know not whether I have lock'd the stocks or no; I think I lock'd them.

[_Tries the locks._

TRO. Take Adam Overdo in your mind, and fear nothing.

BRI. 'Slid, madness itself! hold thy peace, and take that.

[_Strikes him._

TRO. Strikest thou without a warrant? take thou that.

[_They fight, and leave open the stocks in the scuffle._

BUSY. We are delivered by miracle; fellow in fetters, let us not refuse the means; this madness was of the spirit: the malice of the enemy hath mock'd itself.

[_Exeunt Busy and Overdo._

PURE. Mad do they call him! the world is mad in error, but he is mad in truth: I love him o' the sudden (the cunning man said all true) and shall love him more and more. How well it becomes a man to be mad in truth! O, that I might be his yoke-fellow, and be mad with him, what a many should we draw to madness in truth with us!

[_Exit._

BRI. How now, all 'scaped! where's the woman? it is witchcraft! her velvet hat is a witch, o' my conscience, or my key! the one.--The madman was a devil, and I am an ass; so bless me, my place, and mine office!

[_Exeunt, affrighted._