Part 24

_Ser._ O my sweet Master!

Antonio _knocking within_.

_Ant. within._ Man-a-cree, the Devil take thee, Wilt thou kill me here? I prethee now let me goe seek my Master, I shall be very cheel else.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ Do you hear man-a-cree, I'll cree your coxcombe, and you keep not still, down you rogue.

_Ant._ Good sweet fact serving-man, let me out I beseech de, and by my trot I will give dye Worship 2 shillings in good argott, to buy dy Worship pippines.

_Ser._ This rogue thinks all the worth of man consists in Peepins; by this light I'll beat rebellion out of you for ever.

_Ant._ Wilt thou not hear me Man? is fet; I'll give thee all I have about me.

_Ser._ I thank you, Sir, so I may have picking work.

_Ant._ Here is five shillings Man.

_Serv._ Here is a cudgel, a very good one.

_Enter two Serving-men._

_2. Ser._ How now, What's the matter? Where's the _Irishman_.

_1. Ser._ There, a wyth take him, he makes more noise alone there, than ten Lawyers can do with double, and a scurvy Case.

_2. Ser._ Let him out, I must talk with him.

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Wilt thou give me some drink, O hone? I am very dry Man.

_2 Ser._ You shall have that shall quench your thirst, my friend.

_Ant._ Fate dost thou mean man.

_2 Ser._ Even a good tough halter.

_Ant._ A halter? O hone!

_2 Ser._ Sirrah, you are a mischievous Rogue, that's the truth.

_Ant._ No, fet I am not.

_1 Ser._ Shall I knock out his brains? I have kill'd dogs have been worth three of him for all uses.

_2 Ser._ Sirrah, the truth on't is, you must with me to a Justice. O _Roger, Roger_.

_1 Ser._ Why, what's the matter _William_?

_2 Ser._ Heavy news _Roger_, heavy newes; god comfort us.

_1 Ser._ What is't Man?

_Ant._ What's the matter now? I am e'en weary of this way, would I were out on't.

_1 Ser._ My Master sure is murder'd, _Roger_, and this cursed rogue I fear, has had a hand in't.

_Ant._ No fet not.

_1 Ser._ Stand away, I'll kickt out of him: come, sirrha, mount, I'll make you dance, you Rascal, kill my Master? If thy breech were cannon proof, having this good cause on my side, I would encounter it; hold fair, _Shamrocke_.

_Ant._ Why how now Sirs? you will not murder me indeed.

_2 Ser._ Bless us _Roger_!

_Ant._ Nay, I am no spirit.

_2 Ser._ How do you Sir, this is my very Master.

_Ant._ Why well enough yet, but you have a heavy foot of your own; Where's my Wife.

_1 Ser._ Alas poor sorrowful Gentlewoman, she thinks you are dead, and has given o're house-keeping.

_Ant._ Whether is she gone then?

_1 Ser._ Into the Countrey with the Gentleman your Friend Sir, to see if she can wear her sorrows out there; she weeps and takes on too too--

_Ant._ This falls out pat; I shall be everlasting for a name: Doe you hear? upon your lives and faiths to me, not one word I am living, but let the same report pass along, that I am murther'd still; I am made for ever.

_1 Ser._ Why Sir?

_Ant._ I have a Cause Sir, that's enough for you; well, if I be not famous, I am wrong'd much; for any thing I know I will not trouble him this week at least, no, let them take their way one of another.

_1 Ser._ Sir, Will you be still an _Irish-man_?

_Ant._ Yes a while.

_2 Ser._ But your Worship will be beaten no more?

_Ant._ No, I thank you _William_.

_1 Ser._ In truth, Sir, if it must be so, I'll do it better than a stranger.

_Ant._ Goe, you are Knaves both, but I forgive you, I am almost mad with the apprehension of what I shall be, not a word I charge you. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Valerio, _and_ Viola.

_Val._ Come, pretty soul, we now are near our home, And whilst our horses are walkt down the hill, Let thou and I walke here over this Close: The foot-way is more pleasant, 'tis a time My pretty one, not to be wept away, For every living thing is full of love; Art not thou so too? ha?

_Vio._ Nay, there are living things empty of love, Or I had not been here, but for my self, Alas, I have too much.

_Val._ It cannot be, that so much beauty, so much youth and grace should have too much of love.

_Vio._ Pray what is love? for I am full of that I do not know.

_Val._ Why, love fair Maid is an extream desire, That's not to be examin'd, but fulfill'd, To ask the reason why thou art in love, Or what might be the noblest end in love, Would overthrow that kindly rising warmth, That many times slides gently o'r the heart, 'Twould make thee grave and staid, thy thoughts would be, Like a thrice married Widow, full of ends, And void of all compassion, and to fright thee From such enquiry, whereas thou art now Living in ignorance, mild, fresh, and sweet, And but sixteen; the knowing what love is, Would make thee six and forty.

_Vio._ Would it would make me nothing, I have heard Scholars affirm, the world's upheld by Love, But I believe, women maintain all this, For there's no love in men.

_Val._ Yes, in some men.

_Vio._ I know them not.

_Val._ Why, there is love in me.

_Vio._ There's charity I am sure towards me.

_Val._ And love; which I will now express, my pretty maid, I dare not bring thee home, my wife is foul, And therefore envious, she is very old, And therefore jealous: thou art fair and young. A subject fit for her unlucky vices No work upon, she never will endure thee.

_Via._ She may endure If she be ought, but Devil, all the friendship That I will hold with you; can she endure I should be thankful to you? may I pray For you and her, will she be brought to think. That all the honest industry I have, Deserves brown bread? if this may be endur'd She'll pick a quarrel with a sleeping child, E'r she fall out with me.

_Val._ But trust me, she does hate all handsomness.

_Vio._ How fell you in love with such a creature?

_Val._ I never lov'd her.

_Vio._ And yet married her?

_Val._ She was a rich one.

_Vio._ And you swore I warrant you, she was a fair one then too.

_Val._ Or believe me, I think I had not had her.

_Vio._ Are you men all such? wou'd you wou'd wall us in a place Where all we women that are innocent, Might live together.

_Val._ Do not weep at this, Although I dare not for some weighty reason Displease my Wife, yet I forget not thee.

_Vio._ What will you do with me?

_Val._ Thou shalt be plac'd At my mans house, and have such food and raiment As can be bought with money: these white hands Shall never learn to work, but they shall play As thou say'st they were wont, teaching the strings To move in order, or what else thou wilt.

_Vio._ I thank you, Sir, but pray you cloath me poorly, And let my labor get me means to live.

_Val._ But fair one, you, I know do so much hate A foul ingratitude, you will not look I should do this for nothing.

_Vio._ I will work as much out as I can, and take as little, That you shall have as duely paid to you As ever servant did.

_Vol._ But give me now a trial on't, I may believe We are alone, shew me how thou wilt kiss And hug me hard, when I have stolen away From my too clamorous wife that watches me, To spend a blessed hour or t[w]o with thee.

_Vio._ Is this the love you mean? you would have that Is not in me to give, you would have lust.

_Val._ Not to dissemble, or to mince the word, 'Tis Lust I wish indeed.

_Vio._ And by my troth I have it not: for heavens sake use me kindly. Though I be good, and shew perhaps a monster, As this world goes.

_Val._ I do But speak to thee, thy answers are thy own, I compel none, but if [thou] refuse this motion, Thou art not then for me, alas good soul; What profit can thy work bring me?

_Vio._ But I fear, I pray goe, for lust they say, will grow Outragious, being deni'd, I give you thanks For all your courtesies, and there's a Jewel That's worth the taking, that I did preserve Safe from the robbers, pray you leave me here Just as you found me, a poor innocent, And Heaven will bless you for it.

_Val._ Pretty maid, I am no Robber, nor no Ravisher, I pray thee keep thy Jewel, I have done No wrong to thee, though thou beest virtuous And in extremity, I do not know, That I am bound to keep thee.

_Vio._ No Sir, for gods sake, if you know an honest man in all these Countreys, give me some directions to find him out.

_Val._ More honest than my self, good sooth I do not know; I would have lain with thee, with thy consent, and who would not in all these parts, is past my memory, I am sorry for thee, farewel gentle maid, God keep thee safe. [_Exit._

_Vio._ I thank you Sir, and you; Woman they say, was only made of man, Methinks 'tis strange they should be so unlike, It may be all the best was cut away To make the woman, and the naught was left Behind with him, I'll sit me down and weep, All things have cast me from 'em but the earth; The evening comes, and every little flower Droops now, as well as I.

_Enter two Milk-maids with pails._

_Nan._ Good _Madge_ lets rest a little, by my troth I am weary, this new pail is a plaguy heavy one, would _Tom_ were hang'd for choosing it, 'tis the untoward'st fool in a Countrey.

_Madg._ With all my heart, and I thank you too, _Nan_.

_Vio._ What true contented happiness dwels here, More than in Cities! wou'd to God my Father Had liv'd like one of these, and bred me up To milk: and do as they do: methinks 'Tis a life that I wou'd choose, if I were now To tell my time agen, above a Princes; maids, for charity Give a poor wench one draught of Milk, That weariness and hunger have nigh famish'd.

_Nan._ If I had but one Cows Milk in all the world, you should have some on't; there, drink more, the Cheese shall pay for it, alas poor heart, she's drie.

_Madge._ Do you dwell here abouts?

_Vio._ No, would I did.

_Nan._ _Madge_, if she does not looke like my cosin _Sue_ o'th' _Moor lane_, as one thing can look like another--

_Madge._ Nay, _Sue_ has a hazle eye, I know _Sue_ well, and by your leave, not so trim a body neither, this is a feat bodied thing I tell you.

_Nan._ She laces close by the mass I warrant you, and so does _Sue_ too.

_Vio._ I thank you for your gentleness, fair maids.

_Nan._ Drink agen pray thee.

_Vio._ I am satisfied, and heaven reward thee for't, yet thus far I will compell you to accept these trifles, toys only that express my thanks, for greater worth, I'm sure they have not in them; indeed you shall, I found 'em as I came.

_Nan._ _Madge_, look you here _Madge_.

_Madg._ Nay, I have as fine a one as you, mine's all gold, and painted, and a precious stone in't; I warrant it cost a crown wench.

_Nan._ But mine is the most sumptuous one, that e'r I saw.

_Vio._ One favour you must do me more, for you are well acquainted here.

_Nan._ Uds me, our _Dorothy_ went away but last week, and I know my mistriss want's a maid, and why may she not be plac'd there? this is a likely wench, I tell you truly, and a good wench I warrant her.

_Madg._ And 'tis a hard case if we that have serv'd four years apiece, cannot bring in one servant, we will prefer her; hark you sister, pray what's your name.

_Vio._ _Melvia._

_Nan._ A feat name i'faith; and can you milk a cow? and make a merry-bush? that's nothing.

_Vio._ I shall learn quickly.

_Nan._ But be sure to keep the men out, they will mar all that you make else, I know that by my self; for I have been So touz'd among 'em in my days, come you shall e'en home with us, and be our fellow, our house is so honest, and we serve a very good woman, and a Gentlewoman, and we live as merrily, and dance a good daies after even-song: our Wake shall be on Sunday; do you know what a Wake is? we have mighty cheer then, and such a coil, 'twould bless ye; you must not be so bashful, you'll spoil all.

_Madg._ Let's home for Gods sake, my Mistriss thinks by this time we are lost, come, we'll have a care of you, I warrant you; but you must tell my Mistress where you were born, and every thing that belongs to you, and the strangest things you can devise, for she loves those extreamly, 'tis no matter whether they be true or no, she's not so scrupulous; you must be our Sister, and love us best, and tell us every thing, and when cold weather comes, we'll lye together, will you do this?

_Vio._ Yes.

_Nan._ Then home again o' gods name, can you go apace.

_Vio._ I warrant you. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scaena Prima._

_Enter_ Pedro _and_ Uberto, _severally_.

_Ped._ How now, any good news yet?

_Silvio._ Faith not any yet.

_Ped._ This comes o' tipling; would 'twere treason and't pleas['d] God, to drink more than three draughts at a meal.

_Sil._ When did you see _Richardo_?

_Ped._ I crost him twice to day.

_Sil._ You have heard of a young wench that was seen last [night].

_Ped._ Yes.

_Sil._ Has _Richard_ heard of this?

_Ped._ Yes, and I think he's ridden after, farewel, I'll have another round.

_Sil._ If you hear any thing, pray spare no horse-flesh, I'll do the like.

_Ped._ Do. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Richardo _and_ Valerio.

_Rich._ Sir, I did think 'twas you by all descriptions.

_Val._ 'Tis so, I took her up indeed, the manner how You have heard already, and what she had about her, As Jewels, Gold, and other trifling things: And what my end was, which because she slighted, I left her there i'th' fields.

_Rich._ Left i'th' fields? could any but a Rogue That had despis'd humanity and goodness, [God,] law and credit; and had set himself To lose his noblest part, and be a beast, Have left so innocent unmatch'd a virtue, To the rude mercy of a wilderness?

_Val._ Sir, if you come to rail, pray quit my house, I do not use to have such language given Within my doors to me; for your wench, You may go seek her with more patience, She's tame enough, I warrant you.

_Rich._ Pray forgive me. I do confess my much forgetfulness; And weigh my words no farther, I beseech you, Then a mere madness, for such a grief has seiz'd me So strong and deadly, as a punishment, And a just one too, That 'tis a greater wonder I am living, Than any thing I utter; yet let me tell you thus much, 'Twas a fault for leaving her So in the fields.

_Val._ Sir, I will think so now, and credit me, You have so wrought me with your grief, that I Do both forgive and pity you: And if you'll please to take a bed this night here; To morrow I'll bring you where I left her.

_Rich._ I thank you, [no,] shall I be so unworthy: To think upon a bed, or ease, or comfort, And have my heart stray from me, God knows where, Cold and forsaken, destitute of friends, And all good comforts else, unless some tree Whose speechless charity must better ours, With which the bitter east winds made their sport And sung through hourly, hath invited her To keep off half a day? shall she be thus, And I draw in soft slumbers? _God_ forbid. No, night and bitter coldness, I provoke thee, And all the dews that hang upon thy locks, Showrs, Hails, Snows, Frosts, and two edged Winds that prime The maiden blossoms, I provoke you all, And dare expose this body to your sharpness, Till I be made a Land-mark.

_Val._ Will you then stay and eat with me?

_Rich._ Y'are angry with me, I know y'are angry, You would not bid me eat else; my poor Mistriss, For ought I know thou'rt famish'd, for what else Can the fields yield thee, and the stubborn season, That yet holds in the fruit? good gentle Sir, Think not ill manners in me for denying Your offer'd meat, for sure I cannot eat While I do think she wants; well I'm a rascal; A villain, slave, that only was begotten, To murder women, and of them the best.

_Val._ This is a strange affliction. If you'll accept no greater courtesie, yet drink Sir.

_Ric._ Now I am sure you hate me, and you knew What kind of man I am, as indeed 'tis fit, That every man should know me to avoid me. If you have peace within you, Sir, or goodness Name that abhord word - Drink, no more unto me, You had safer strike me. I pray you do not, if you love me do not.

_Val._ Sir, I mean no ill by it.

_Ric._ It may be so, Nor let me see None Sir, if you love heaven; You know not what offence it is unto me, Nor good now do not ask me why: And I warn you once again, let no man else speak of't, I fear your servants will be prating to me.

_Val._ Why Sir, what ail you?

_Rich._ I hate drink, there's the end on't, And that man that drinks with meat is damn'd Without an age of prayers and repentance, And there's a hazard too; good Sir, no more If you will do me a free courtesie; That I shall know for one: go take your horse, And bring me to the place where you left her:

_Val._ Since you are so impo[r]tunate, I will; But I will wish Sir, you had staid to night Upon my credit you shall see no drink.

_Rich._ Be gone, the hearing of it makes me giddy, Sir, will you be intreated to forbear it, I shall be mad else.

_Val._ I pray no more of that, I am quiet, I'll but walk in, and away straight.

_Rich._ Now I thank you, But what you do, do in a twinkling, Sir.

_Val._ As soon as may be. [_Exit._

_Enter Mother_, Viola, _and two Milk-maids_.

_Moth._ Is this the wench you have brought me? some catch I warrant. How daringly she looks upon the matter!

_Madge._ Yes forsooth, this is the maiden.

_Moth._ Come hither, wou'd you serve?

_Vio._ If it shall please you to accept my service, I hope I shall do something that shall like you, though it be but truth, and often praying for you.

_Moth._ You are very curious of your hand methinks, You preserve it so with gloves, let me see it; I marry, here's a hand of march-pane, wenches, This pretty palme never knew sorrow yet; How soft it is I warrant you, and supple: O' my word, this is fitter for a pocket to filch withal Than to [work], I fear me little one, You are no better than you should be; goe to.

_Vio._ My Conscience yet is but one witness to me, And that heaven knows, is of mine innocence, 'Tis true, I must confess with shame enough, The time that I have led, yet never taught me What 'twas to break a sleep, or to be weary.

_Moth._ You can say well: if you be mine, wench, you must doe well too, for words are but slow workers, yet so much hope I have of you, that I'll take you, so you'll be diligent, and do your duty: how now?

_Enter_ Alexander.

_Alex._ There is a messenger come from your son, That brings you word he is return'd from travel, And will be here this night.

_Moth._ Now joy upon thee for it, thou art ever A bringer of good tidings, there, drink that: In troth thou hast much contented me, my Son! Lord how thou hast pleas'd me, shall I see my Son Yet e'r I dye? take care my house be handsome, And the new stools set out, and boughs and rushes, And flowers for the window, and the _Turky_ Carpet, And the great parcel Salt, _Nan_, with the Cruets, And prethee _Alexander_ goe to the Cook, And bid him spare for nothing, my son's come home, Who's come with him?

_Alex._ I hear of none yet, but a Gentlewoman.

_Moth._ A Gentlewoman? what Gentlewoman?

_Alex._ I know not, but such a one there is, he says.

_Moth._ Pray God he have not cast away himself Upon some snout-fair piece, I do not like it.

_Alex._ No sure, my Master has more discretion.

_Moth._ [Well,] be it how it will, he shall be welcome. Sirs to your tasks, and shew this little novice How to bestir her self, I'll sort out things. [_Exit._

_Madge._ We will forsooth, I can tell you, my Mistriss is a stirring woman.

_Nan._ Lord how she'll talk sometimes! 'tis the maddest cricket--

_Vio._ Methinks she talks well, and shews a great deal of good huswivery, pray let me deck the chambers, shall I?

_Nan._ Yes, you shall, but do not scorn to be advis'd, Sister, for there belongs more to that, than you are aware on; why [w]ould you venture so fondly upon the strowings? there's mighty matters in them I'll assure you, and in the spreading of a bough-pot, you may miss, if you were ten years elder, if you take not a special care before you.

_Vio._ I will learn willingly, if that be all.

_Nan._ Sirrah where is't they say my young Master hath been?

_Madg._ Faith I know not, beyond the Sea, where they are born without noses.

_Nan._ [Jesse blesse] us! without noses? how do they do for handkerchiefs?

_Madg._ So _Richard_ says, and sirrah, their feet stand in their foreheads.

_Nan._ That's fine by my troth, these men have pestilent running heads then; do they speak as we do?

_Mag._ No, they never speak.

_Nan._ Are they cursend?

_Mag._ No, they call them Infidels, I know not what they are.

_Nan._ Sirrah, we shall have fine courting now my young master is come home, were you never courted Sister?

_Vio._ Alas, I know it not.

_Mag._ What is that courting, sirrah?

_Nan._ I can tell, for I was once courted in the matted chamber, you know the party _Madge_, faith he courted finely.

_Madg._ Pray thee what is't?

_Na[n]._ Faith, nothing but he was somewhat figent with me, faith 'tis fine sport, this courting.

_Alex. within._ Where be the Maids there?

_Madg._ We shall be hang'd anon, away good wenches, and have a care you dight things handsomly, I will look over you. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Mercury _and_ Maria.

_Mer._ If your sorrow will give you so far leave, pray think your self most welcome to this place, for so upon my life you are, and for your own fair sake, take truce awhile with these immoderate mournings.

_Wife._ I thank you Sir, I shall doe what I may; Pray lead me to a chamber.

_Enter Mother and_ Alexander.

_Mer._ Presently, Before your blessing Mother, I intreat ye To know this Gentlewoman, and bid her welcome, The virtuous wife of him that was my self In all my travels.

_Moth._ Indeed she is most welcome, so are you son [_kneel._ Now all my blessing on thee; thou hast made me Younger by 20 years, than I was yesterday, Will you walk in? what ails this Gentlewoman? Alas, I fear she is not well, good Gen[t]lewoman.

_Mer._ You fear right.

_Moth._ She has fasted over long, You shall have supper presently o'th' board.

_Mer._ She will not eat; I can assure you Mother, For Gods sake let your Maid conduct her up Into some fair becoming Chamber Fit for a woman of her Being, and As soon as may be, I know she's very ill, and wou'd have rest.

_Moth._ There is one ready for her, the blew chamber.

_Mer._ 'Tis well, I'll lead you to your chamber door And there I'll leave you to your quiet, Mistriss.

_Wife._ I thank you, Sir, good rest to every one, You'll see me once again to night, I hope. [_Exit._

_Mer._ When you shall please, I'll wait upon you, Lady.

_Moth._ Where are these maids, attend upon the Gentlewoman, and see she want no good thing in the house? goodnight with all my heart forsooth, good Lord how you are grown, is he not _Alexander_?

_Alex._ Yes truly, he's shot up finely, God be thanked.

_Mer._ An ill weed, Mother, will do so.

_Alex._ You say true, Sir, an ill weed grows apace.

_Mer._ _Alexander_ the sharp, you take [me] very quickly.

_Moth._ Nay, I can tell you, _Alexander_ will do it, do you read madcap still?

_Alex._ Sometimes forsooth.

_Moth._ But faith Son, what Countreys have you travell'd?

_Mer._ Why many, Mother, as they lay before me, _France_, _Spain_, _Italy_ and _Germany_, and other Provinces that I am sure, you are not better'd by, when you hear of them.

_Moth._ And can you these tongues perfectly?

_Mer._ Of some a little, Mother.

_Moth._ Pray spout some _French_ Son.