ACT III

[SCENE I.][2507]

_Enter_ INFELICE, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man].

_Inf._ From whom say’st thou?

_Orl._ From a poor gentlewoman, madam, whom I serve.

_Inf._ And what ’s your business?

_Orl._ This madam: my poor mistress has a (5) waste piece of ground, which is her own by inheritance, and left to her by her mother. There ’s a lord now that goes about not to take it clean from her, but to enclose it to himself, and to join it to a piece of his lordship’s. 10

_Inf._ What would she have me do in this?

_Orl._ No more, madam, but what one woman should do for another in such a case. My honourable lord your husband, would do any thing in her behalf, but she had rather put herself (15) into your hands, because you, a woman, may do more with the duke, your father.

_Inf._ Where lies this land?

_Orl._ Within a stone’s cast of this place. My mistress, I think, would be content to let (20) him enjoy it after her decease, if that would serve his turn, so my master would yield too; but she cannot abide to hear that the lord should meddle with it in her lifetime.

_Inf._ Is she then married? Why stirs not (25) her husband in it?

_Orl._ Her husband stirs in it underhand: but because the other is a great rich man, my master is loth to be seen in it too much.

_Inf._ Let her in writing draw the cause at large, 30 And I will move the duke.

_Orl._ ’T is set down, madam, here in black and white already. Work it so, madam, that she may keep her own without disturbance, grievance, molestation, or meddling of any (35) other; and she bestows this purse of gold on your ladyship.

_Inf._ Old man, I ’ll plead for her, but take no fees. Give lawyers them, I swim not in that flood; I ’ll touch no gold, till I have done her good. 40

_Orl._ I would all proctors’ clerks were of your mind, I should law more amongst them than I do then. Here, madam, is the survey, not only of the manor itself, but of the grange-house, with every meadow pasture, plough-land, (45) cony-burrow, fish-pond, hedge, ditch, and bush, that stands in it. [_Gives a letter._]

_Inf._ My husband’s name, and hand and seal at arms To a love letter? Where hadst thou this writing?

_Orl._ From the foresaid party, madam, that (50) would keep the foresaid land out of the foresaid lord’s fingers.

_Inf._ My lord turn’d ranger now?

_Orl._ You ’re a good huntress, lady; you ha’ found your game already. Your lord would (55) fain be a ranger, but my mistress requests you to let him run a course in your own park. If you ’ll not do ’t for love, then do ’t for money! She has no white money, but there ’s gold; or else she prays you to ring him by this token, (60) and so you shall be sure his nose will not be rooting other men’s pastures. [_Gives purse and ring._]

_Inf._ This very purse was woven with mine own hands; This diamond on that very night, when he Untied my virgin girdle, gave I him; 65 And must a common harlot share in mine? Old man, to quit thy pains, take thou the gold.

_Orl._ Not I, madam, old serving-men want no money.

_Inf._ Cupid himself was sure his secretary; 70 These lines are even the arrows love let flies. The very ink dropt out of Venus’ eyes.

_Orl._ I do not think, madam, but he fetcht off some poet or other for those lines, for they are parlous hawks to fly at wenches. 75

_Inf._ Here ’s honied poison! To me he ne’er thus writ; But lust can set a double edge on wit.

_Orl._ Nay, that ’s true, madam, a wench will whet any thing, if it be not too dull.

_Inf._ Oaths, promises, preferments, jewels, gold, 80 What snares should break, if all these cannot hold? What creature is thy mistress?

_Orl._ One of those creatures that are contrary to man; a woman.

_Inf._ What manner of woman? 85

_Orl._ A little tiny woman, lower than your ladyship by head and shoulders, but as mad a wench as ever unlaced a petticoat: these things should I indeed have delivered to my lord, your husband. 90

_Inf._ They are delivered better: why should she Send back these things?

_Orl._ ’Ware, ’ware, there ’s knavery.

_Inf._ Strumpets, like cheating gamesters, will not win At first; these are but baits to draw him in. How might I learn his hunting hours? 95

_Orl._ The Irish footman can tell you all his hunting hours, the park he hunts in, the doe he would strike; that Irish shackatory[2508] beats the bush for him, and knows all; he brought that letter, and that ring; he is the carrier. 100

_Inf._ Knowest thou what other gifts have past between them?

_Orl._ Little Saint Patrick knows all.

_Inf._ Him I ’ll examine presently.

_Orl._ Not whilst I am here, sweet madam. 105

_Inf._ Be gone then, and what lies in me command. _Exit_ ORLANDO.

_Enter_ BRYAN.

_Inf._ How much cost those satins, And cloth of silver, which my husband sent By you to a low gentlewoman yonder? 109

_Bry._ Faat satins? faat silvers, faat low gentlefolks? Dow pratest dow knowest not what, i’ faat, la.

_Inf._ She there, to whom you carried letters.

_Bry._ By dis hand and bod dow saist true, if I did so, oh how? I know not a letter a’ de (115) book i’ faat, la.

_Inf._ Did your lord never send you with a ring, sir, Set with a diamond?

_Bry._ Never, sa crees sa’ me, never! He may run at a towsand rings i’ faat, and I never (120) hold his stirrup, till he leap into de saddle. By St. Patrick, madam. I never touch my lord’s diamond, nor ever had to do, i’ faat, la, with any of his precious stones. 124

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.

_Inf._ Are you so close,[2509] you bawd, you pand’ring slave? [_Strikes_ BRYAN.]

_Hip._ How now? Why, Infelice; what ’s your quarrel?

_Inf._ Out of my sight, base varlet! get thee gone.

_Hip._ Away, you rogue!

_Bry. Slawne loot_,[2510] fare de well, fare de well. _Ah marragh frofat boddah breen!_[2511] _Exit._

_Hip._ What, grown a fighter? Prithee, what ’s the matter? 131

_Inf._ If you ’ll needs know, it was about the clock. How works the day, my lord, pray, by your watch?

_Hip._ Lest you cuff me, I ’ll tell you presently:[2512] I am near two.

_Inf._ How, two? I ’m scarce at one. 135

_Hip._ One of us then goes false.

_Inf._ Then sure ’t is you, Mine goes by heaven’s dial, the sun, and it goes true.

_Hip._ I think, indeed, mine runs somewhat too fast.

_Inf._ Set it to mine at one then.

_Hip._ One? ’t is past: ’T is past one by the sun.

_Inf._ Faith, then, belike, 140 Neither your clock nor mine does truly strike; And since it is uncertain which goes true, Better be false at one, than false at two.

_Hip._ Y’ are very pleasant, madam.

_If._ Yet not merry.

_Hip._ Why, Infelice, what should make you sad? 145

_Inf._ Nothing, my lord, but my false watch. Pray, tell me,— You see, my clock or yours is out of frame, Must we upon the workmen lay the blame, Or on ourselves that keep them?

_Hip._ Faith on both. He may by knavery spoil them, we by sloth. 150 But why talk you all riddle thus? I read Strange comments in those margins of your looks. Your cheeks of late are like bad printed books, So dimly charact’red, I scarce can spell One line of love in them. Sure all ’s not well. 155

_Inf._ All is not well indeed, my dearest lord; Lock up thy gates of hearing, that no sound Of what I speak may enter.

_Hip._ What means this?

_Inf._ Or if my own tongue must myself betray, Count it a dream, or turn thine eyes away, 160 And think me not thy wife. _She kneels._

_Hip._ Why do you kneel?

_Inf._ Earth is sin’s cushion: when the sick soul feels Herself growing poor, then she turns beggar, cries, And kneels for help. Hippolito, for husband I dare not call thee, I have stolen that jewel 165 Of my chaste honour, which was only thine, And given it to a slave.

_Hip._ Ha?

_Inf._ On thy pillow Adultery and lust have slept; thy groom Hath climb’d the unlawful tree, and pluckt the sweets; A villain hath usurp’d a husband’s sheets. 170

_Hip._ S’death, who?—a cuckold!—who?

_Inf._ This Irish footman.

_Hip._ Worse than damnation! a wild kerne,[2513] a frog, A dog: whom I ’ll scarce spurn. Long’d you for shamrock? Were it my father’s father, heart, I ’ll kill him, Although I take him on his death-bed gasping ’Twixt Heaven and hell! A shag-hair’d cur! Bold strumpet, 176 Why hang’st thou on me? Think’st I ’ll be a bawd To a whore, because she ’s noble?

_Inf._ I beg but this, Set not my shame out to the world’s broad eye, Yet let thy vengeance, like my fault, soar high, So it be in dark’ned clouds.

_Hip._ Dark’ned! my horns 181 Cannot be dark’ned, nor shall my revenge. A harlot to my slave? The act is base, Common, but foul, so shall not thy disgrace. Could not I feed your appetite? O women 185 You were created angels, pure and fair; But since the first fell, tempting devils you are. You should be men’s bliss, but you prove their rods: Were there no women, men might live like gods. You ha’ been too much down already; rise, 190 Get from my sight, and henceforth shun my bed; I ’ll with no strumpet’s breath be poisoned. As for your Irish lubrican,[2514] that spirit Whom by prepost’rous charms thy lust hath raised In a wrong circle, him I ’ll damn more black 195 Than any tyrant’s soul.

_Inf._ Hippolito!

_Hip._ Tell me, didst thou bait hooks to draw him to thee, Or did he bewitch thee?

_Inf._ The slave did woo me.

_Hip._ Tu-whoos in that screech-owl’s language! Oh, who ’d trust Your cork-heel’d sex? I think to sate your lust You ’d love a horse, a bear, a croaking toad, 201 So your hot itching veins might have their hound: Then the wild Irish dart was thrown? Come, how? The manner of this fight?

_Inf._ ’T was thus, he gave me this battery first.—Oh, I 205 Mistake—believe me, all this in beaten gold; Yet I held out, but at length thus was charm’d. [_Gives letter, purse and ring._] What? change your diamond, wench? The act is base, Common, but foul, so shall not your disgrace. Could not I feed your appetite? O men 210 You were created angels, pure and fair, But since the first fell, worse than devils you are. You should our shields be, but you prove our rods. Were there no men, women might live like gods. Guilty, my lord?

_Hip._ Yes, guilty, my good lady. 215

_Inf._ Nay, you may laugh, but henceforth shun my bed. With no whore’s leavings I ’ll be poisoned. _Exit._

_Hip._ O’er-reached so finely? ’T is the very diamond And letter which I sent. This villany 219 Some spider closely weaves, whose poison’d bulk I must let forth. Who ’s there without?

_Ser._ (_within._) My lord calls?

_Hip._ Send me the footman.

_Ser._ (_within._) Call the footman to my lord.—Bryan, Bryan! 224

_Re-enter_ BRYAN.

_Hip._ It can be no man else, that Irish Judas, Bred in a country where no venom prospers But in the nation’s blood, hath thus betray’d me.— Slave, get you from your service.

_Bry._ Faat meanest thou by this now?

_Hip._ Question me not, nor tempt my fury, villain! 230 Couldst thou turn all the mountains in the land To hills of gold, and give me, here thou stayest not.

_Bry._ I’ faat, I care not.

_Hip._ Prate not, but get thee gone, I shall send else. 234

_Bry._ Ay, do predy, I had rather have thee make a scabbard of my guts, and let out all de Irish puddings in my poor belly, den to be a false knave to de, i’ faat! I will never see dine own sweet face more. _A mawhid deer a gra_,[2515] fare dee well, fare dee well; I will go steal (240) cows again in Ireland. _Exit._

_Hip._ He ’s damn’d that raised this whirlwind, which hath blown Into her eyes this jealousy: yet I ’ll on, I ’ll on, stood armed devils staring in my face. To be pursued in flight, quickens the race, 245 Shall my blood-streams by a wife’s lust be barr’d? Fond[2516] woman, no: iron grows by strokes more hard; Lawless desires are seas scorning all bounds, Or sulphur, which being ramm’d up, more confounds; Struggling with madmen madness nothing tames; 250 Winds wrestling with great fires incense the flames. _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2517]

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man], MATHEO [_following_].

_Bell._ How now, what ails your master?

_Orl._ Has taken a younger brother’s purge, forsooth, and that works with him.

_Bell._ Where is his cloak and rapier?

_Orl._ He has given up his cloak, and his rapier (5) is bound to the peace. If you look a little higher, you may see that another hath ent’red into hatband for him too. Six and four[2518] have put him into this sweat.

_Bell._ Where’s all his money? 10

_Orl._ ’T is put over by exchange; his doublet was going to be translated, but for me. If any man would ha’ lent but half a ducat on his beard, the hair of it had stuft a pair of breeches by this time. I had but one poor penny, and (15) that I was glad to niggle out,[2519] and buy a holly-wand to grace him through the street. As hap was, his boots were on, and them I dustied, to make people think he had been riding, and I had run by him.— 20

_Bell._ Oh me!——How does my sweet Matheo? [MATHEO _comes forward_.]

_Mat._ Oh rogue, of what devilish stuff are these dice made of,—the parings of the devil’s corns of his toes, that they run thus damnably?

_Bell._ I prithee, vex not. 25

_Mat._ If any handicraft’s-man was ever suff’red to keep shop in hell, it will be a dice-maker; he’s able to undo more souls than the devil; I play’d with mine own dice, yet lost. Ha’ you any money? 30

_Bell._ ’Las, I ha’ none.

_Mat._ Must have money, must have some, must have a cloak, and rapier, and things. Will you go set your lime-twigs, and get me some birds, some money? 35

_Bell._ What lime-twigs should I set?

_Mat._ You will not then? Must have cash and pictures, do ye hear, frailty? Shall I walk in a Plymouth cloak,[2520] that ’s to say, like a rogue, in my hose and doublet, and a crabtree cudgel (40) in my hand, and you swim in your satins? Must have money, come! [_Taking off her gown._]

_Orl._ Is ’t bed-time, master, that you undo my mistress?

_Bell._ Undo me? Yes, yes, at these riflings I Have been too often.

_Mat._ Help to flay, Pacheco. 45

_Orl._ Flaying call you it?

_Mat._ I ’ll pawn you, by th’ lord, to your very eyebrows.

_Bell._ With all my heart, since Heaven will have me poor; As good be drown’d at sea, as drown’d at shore.

_Orl._ Why, hear you, sir? I ’faith, do not make away her gown. 51

_Mat._ Oh! it’s summer, it’s summer; your only fashion for a woman now is to be light, to be light.

_Orl._ Why, pray sir, employ some of that (55) money you have of mine.

_Mat._ Thine? I ’ll starve first, I ’ll beg first; when I touch a penny of that, let these fingers’ ends rot.

_Orl._ [_Aside._] So they may, for that ’s past (60) touching. I saw my twenty pounds fly high.

_Mat._ Knowest thou never a damn’d broker about the city?

_Orl._ Damn’d broker? Yes, five hundred.

_Mat._ The gown stood me in[2521] above twenty (65) ducats; borrow ten of[2522] it. Cannot live without silver.

_Orl._ I ’ll make what I can of it, sir, I ’ll be your broker,— [_Aside_] But not your damn’d broker. Oh thou scurvy knave! 70 What makes a wife turn whore, but such a slave? _Exit_ [_with_ BELLAFRONT’S _gown_].

_Mat._ How now, little chick, what ailest? Weeping for a handful of tailor’s shreds? Pox on them, are there not silks enow at mercer’s?

_Bell._ I care not for gay feathers, I. 75

_Mat._ What dost care for then? Why dost grieve?

_Bell._ Why do I grieve? A thousand sorrows strike At one poor heart, and yet it lives. Matheo, Thou art a gamester; prithee, throw at all, 80 Set all upon one cast. We kneel and pray, And struggle for life, yet must be cast away. Meet misery quickly then, split all, sell all, And when thou ’st sold all, spend it; but, I beseech thee, Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more; 85 To get it wouldst thou have me play the whore?

_Mat._ ’T was your profession before I married you.

_Bell._ Umh? it was indeed. If all men should be branded For sins long since laid up, who could be saved? The quarter-day ’s at hand, how will you do 91 To pay the rent, Matheo?

_Mat._ Why, do as all of our occupation do against[2523] quarter-days: break up house, remove, shift your lodgings: pox a’ your quarters! 95

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Where ’s this gallant?

_Mat._ Signor Ludovico? how does my little Mirror of Knighthood?[2524] This is kindly done, i’ faith: welcome, by my troth.

_Lod._ And how dost, frolic?—Save you fair lady.— 100 Thou lookest smug and bravely, noble Mat.

_Mat._ Drink and feed, laugh and lie warm.

_Lod._ Is this thy wife?

_Mat._ A poor gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a’nights. 105

_Lod._ Pay custom to your lips, sweet lady. [_Kisses her._]

_Mat._ Borrow some shells[2525] of him.—Some wine, sweetheart.

_Lod._ I ’ll send for ’t then, i ’faith.

_Mat._ You send for ’t!—Some wine, I prithee.

_Bell._ I ha’ no money. 110

_Mat._ ’Sblood, nor I.—What wine love you, signor?

_Lod._ Here! [_offering money_] or I ’ll not stay, I protest; trouble the gentlewoman too much? _Exit_ BELLAFRONT. And what news flies abroad, Matheo? 114

_Mat._ Troth, none. Oh, signor, we ha’ been merry in our days.

_Lod._ And no doubt shall again. The divine powers never shoot darts at men Mortal, to kill them.

_Mat._ You say true. 120

_Lod._ Why should we grieve at want? Say the world made thee Her minion, that thy head lay in her lap, And that she danc’d thee on her wanton knee, She could but give thee a whole world: that ’s all, 124 And that all’s nothing; the world’s greatest part Cannot fill up one corner of thy heart. Say the three corners were all fill’d, alas! Of what art thou possest? A thin blown glass, Such as is by boys puft into the air! Were twenty kingdoms thine, thou ’dst live in care: 130 Thou couldst not sleep the better, nor live longer, Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger. If, then, thou want’st, thus make that want thy pleasure, No man wants all things, nor has all in measure.

_Mat._ I am the most wretched fellow: sure (135) some left-handed priest hath christ’ned me. I am so unlucky; I am never out of one puddle or another; still falling. _Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT [_with wine_] _and_ ORLANDO. Fill out wine to my little finger.—With my heart, i’ faith. [_Drinks._] 140

_Lod._ Thanks, good Matheo. To your own sweet self. [_Drinks._]

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO.

_Orl._ All the brokers’ hearts, sir, are made of flint. I can with all my knocking strike but six sparks of fire out of them; here’s six ducats, if you’ll take them. 146

_Mat._ Give me them! [_Taking money._] An evil conscience gnaw them all! Moths and plagues hang upon their lousy wardrobes!

_Lod._ Is this your man, Matheo? 150

[_Mat._] An old serving-man.

_Orl._ You may give me t’ other half too, sir; that’s the beggar.

_Lod._ What hast there,—gold? 154

_Mat._ A sort[2526] of rascals are in my debt, God knows what, and they feed me with bits, with crumbs, a pox choke them.

_Lod._ A word, Matheo; be not angry with me; Believe it that I know the touch of time, 159 And can part copper, though it be gilded o’er, From the true gold: the sails which thou dost spread, Would show well if they were not borrowed. The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither, I give my self unto thee; prithee, use me, I will bestow on you a suit of satin, 165 And all things else to fit a gentleman, Because I love you.

_Mat._ Thanks, good, noble knight!

_Lod._ Call on me when you please; till then farewell. _Exit._

_Mat._ Hast angled? Hast cut up this fresh salmon? 170

_Bell._ Wouldst have me be so base?

_Mat._ It’s base to steal, it’s base to be a whore: Thou ’lt be more base, I’ll make thee keep a door.[2527] _Exit._

_Orl._ I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he? 175

_Bell._ Thou seest he does.

_Orl._ Nay then, it’s well. I set my brains upon an upright last;[2528] though my wits be old, yet they are like a wither’d pippin, wholesome. Look you, mistress, I told him I had but six 180 ducats of the knave broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for you.

_Bell._ Thou should’st have given him all.

_Orl._ What, to fly high?

_Bell._ Like waves, my misery drives on misery. _Exit._

_Orl._ Sell his wife’s clothes from her back? (185) Does any poulterer’s wife pull chickens alive? He riots all abroad, wants all at home: he dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns. I’ll give him hook and line, a little more for all this; 190 Yet sure i ’th’ end he ’ll delude all my hopes, And show me a French trick danc’d on the ropes.[2529] _Exit._ 195

[SCENE III.]

_Enter at one door_ LODOVICO _and_ CAROLO; _at another_ BOTS, _and_ Mistress HORSELEECH. CANDIDO _and his_ Wife _appear in the Shop_.

_Lod._ Hist, hist, Lieutenant Bots! How dost, man?

_Car._ Whither are you ambling, Madam Horseleech?

_Mis. H._ About worldly profit, sir: how (5) do your worships?

_Bots._ We want tools, gentlemen, to furnish the trade: they wear out day and night, they wear out till no metal be left in their back. We hear of two or three new wenches are come (10) up with a carrier, and your old goshawk here is flying at them.

_Lod._ And, faith, what flesh have you at home?

_Mis. H._ Ordinary dishes; by my troth, (15) sweet men, there’s few good i’ th’ city. I am as well furnisht as any, and, though I say it, as well custom’d.

_Bots._ We have meats of all sorts of dressing; we have stew’d meat for your Frenchman, (20) pretty light picking meat for your Italian, and that which is rotten roasted for Don Spaniardo.

_Lod._ A pox on ’t.

_Bots._ We have poulterer’s ware for your sweet bloods, as dove, chicken, duck, teal, (25) woodcock, and so forth: and butcher’s meat for the citizen: yet muttons[2530] fall very bad this year.

_Lod._ Stay, is not that my patient linen-draper yonder, and my fine young smug mistress, (30) his wife?

_Car._ Sirrah,[2531] grannam, I ’ll give thee for thy fee twenty crowns, if thou canst but procure me the wearing of yon velvet cap.

_Mis. H._ You ’d wear another thing besides (35) the cap. You’re a wag.

_Bots._ Twenty crowns? We ’ll share, and I ’ll be your pully to draw her on.

_Lod._ Do’t presently; we’ll ha’ some sport.

_Mis. H._ Wheel you about, sweet men: (40) do you see? I’ll cheapen wares of the man, whilst Bots is doing with his wife.

_Lod._ To ’t: if we come into the shop to do you grace, we’ll call you madam.

_Bots._ Pox a’ your old face, give it the (45) badge of all scurvy faces, a mask. [Mistress HORSELEECH _puts on a mask_.]

_Cand._ What is ’t you lack, gentlewoman? Cambric or lawns, or fine hollands? Pray draw near; I can sell you a pennyworth.

_Bots._ Some cambric for my old lady. 50

_Cand._ Cambric? You shall, the purest thread in Milan.

_Lod., Car._ Save you, Signor Candido.

_Lod._ How does my noble master? How my fair mistress? 55

_Cand._ My worshipful good servant.—View it well, for ’t is both fine and even. [_Shows cambric._]

_Car._ Cry you mercy, madam; though mask’d, I thought it should be you by your man.—Pray, signor, show her the best, for she commonly deals for good ware. 61

_Cand._ Then this shall fit her.—This is for your ladyship.

_Bots._ [_to Bride._] A word, I pray. There is a waiting gentlewoman of my lady’s—her (65) name is Ruyna—says she’s your kinswoman, and that you should be one of her aunts.

_Bride._ One of her aunts? Troth, sir, I know her not. 69

_Bots._ If it please you to bestow the poor labour of your legs at any time, I will be your convoy thither.

_Bride._ I am a snail, sir, seldom leave my house. If ’t please her to visit me, she shall be welcome. 75

_Bots._ Do you hear? The naked truth is, my lady hath a young knight, her son, who loves you; you ’re made, if you lay hold upon ’t; this jewel he sends you. [_Offers jewel._] 79

_Bride._ Sir, I return his love and jewel with scorn. Let go my hand, or I shall call my husband. You are an arrant knave. _Exit._

_Lod._ What will she do?

_Bots._ Do? They shall all do if Bots sets upon them once. She was as if she had profest (85) the trade, squeamish at first; at last I showed her this jewel, said a knight sent it her.

_Lod._ Is’t gold, and right stones?

_Bots._ Copper, copper; I go a fishing with these baits. She nibbled, but would not swallow the hook, because the conger-head, her 91 husband, was by; but she bids the gentleman name any afternoon, and she’ll meet him at her garden house,[2532] which I know.

_Lod._ Is this no lie now? 95

_Bots._ Damme, if—

_Lod._ Oh, prithee, stay there.

_Bots._ The twenty crowns, sir.

_Lod._ Before he has his work done?—But on my knightly word he shall pay ’t thee. 100

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and the Irish footman_ [BRYAN].

_Ast._ I thought thou hadst been gone into thine own country.

_Bry._ No, faat, la, I cannot go dis four or tree days. 104

_Ber._ Look thee, yonder ’s the shop, and that ’s the man himself.

_Fon._ Thou shalt but cheapen, and do as we told thee, to put a jest upon him, to abuse his patience. 109

_Bry._ I’ faat, I doubt my pate shall be knocked: but, sa crees sa’ me, for your shakes, I will run to any linen-draper in hell. Come, predee.

_All._ Save you, gallants.

_Lod., Car._ Oh, well met! 115

_Cand._ You ’ll give no more, you say? I cannot take it.

_Mis. H._ Truly, I ’ll give no more.

_Cand._ It must not fetch it. What would you have, sweet gentlemen. 120

_Ast._ Nay, here ’s the customer. _Exeunt_ BOTS _and_ Mistress HORSELEECH.

_Lod._ The garden-house, you say? We ’ll bolt[2533] out your roguery.

_Cand._ I will but lay these parcels by—my men Are all at custom house unloading wares. 125 If cambric you would deal in, there ’s the best; All Milan cannot sample it.

_Lod._ Do you hear it? one, two, three,— ’Sfoot, there came in four gallants! Sure your wife is slipt up, and the fourth man, I hold my life, is grafting your warden tree.[2534] 131

_Cand._ Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen are full of jest, If she be up, she ’s gone some wares to show; I have above as good wares as below.

_Lod._ Have you so? Nay, then— 135

_Cand._ Now, gentlemen, is ’t cambrics?

_Bry._ I predee now, let me have de best waures.

_Cand._ What ’s that he says, pray, gentlemen?

_Lod._ Marry, he says we are like to have the best wars. 141

_Cand._ The best wars? All are bad, yet wars do good, And, like to surgeons, let sick kingdom’s blood.

_Bry._ Faat a devil pratest tow so? a pox on dee! I preddee, let me see some hollen, to make linen shirts, for fear my body be lousy. 146

_Cand._ Indeed, I understand no word he speaks.

_Car._ Marry, he says that at the siege in Holland There was much bawdry us’d among the soldiers, Though they were lousy. 150

_Cand._ It may be so, that ’s likely.—True, indeed, In every garden, sir, does grow that weed.

_Bry._ Pox on de gardens, and de weeds, and de fool’s cap dere, and de clouts! Hear? dost make a hobby-horse of me. [_Tearing the cambric._] 155

_All._ Oh, fie! he has torn the cambric.

_Cand._ ’T is no matter.

_Ast._ It frets me to the soul.

_Cand._ So does ’t not me. My customers do oft for remnants call, These are two remnants, now, no loss at all. But let me tell you, were my servants here. 160 It would ha’ cost more.—Thank you, gentlemen, I use you well, pray know my shop again. _Exit._

_All._ Ha, ha, ha! come, come, let ’s go, let ’s go. _Exeunt._

[ACT IV]

[SCENE I.][2535]

_Enter_ MATHEO _brave_,[2536] _and_ BELLAFRONT.

_Mat._ How am I suited, Front? Am I not gallant, ha?

_Bell._ Yes, sir, you are suited well.

_Mat._ Exceeding passing well, and to the time.[2537] 4

_Bell._ The tailor has play’d his part with you.

_Mat._ And I have play’d a gentleman’s part with my tailor, for I owe him for the making of it.

_Bell._ And why did you so, sir?

_Mat._ To keep the fashion; it ’s your only (10) fashion now, of your best rank of gallants, to make their tailors wait for their money; neither were it wisdom indeed to pay them upon the first edition[2538] of a new suit; for commonly the suit is owing for, when the linings (15) are worn out, and there ’s no reason, then, that the tailor should be paid before the mercer.

_Bell._ Is this the suit the knight bestowed upon you?

_Mat._ This is the suit, and I need not shame to wear it, for better men than I would be (21) glad to have suits bestowed on them. It ’s a generous fellow,—but—pox on him—we whose pericranions are the very limbecks and stillatories of good wit and fly high, must drive liquor out of stale gaping oysters. Shallow (26) knight, poor squire Tinacheo: I ’ll make a wild Cataian[2539] of forty such: hang him, he ’s an ass, he ’s always sober.

_Bell._ This is your fault to wound your friends still. 31

_Mat._ No, faith, Front, Lodovico is a noble Slavonian: it ’s more rare to see him in a woman’s company, than for a Spaniard to go into England, and to challenge the English (35) fencers there.—[_Knocking within._] One knocks,—see.—[_Exit_ BELLAFRONT.]—La, fa, sol, la, fa, la, [_sings_] rustle in silks and satins! There ’s music in this, and a taffeta petticoat, it makes both fly high. _Catso._ 40

_Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT; _after her_ ORLANDO, _like himself, with four men after him_.

_Bell._ Matheo! ’t is my father.

_Mat._ Ha! father? It ’s no matter, he finds no tatter’d prodigals here.

_Orl._ Is not the door good enough to hold your blue coats? Away, knaves, wear not your (45) clothes threadbare at knees for me; beg Heaven’s blessing, not mine. [_Exeunt_ Servants.]—Oh cry your worship mercy, sir; was somewhat bold to talk to this gentlewoman, your wife here. 50

_Mat._ A poor gentlewoman, sir.

_Orl._ Stand not, sir, bare to me; I ha’ read oft That serpents who creep low, belch ranker poison Than winged dragons do that fly aloft.

_Mat._ If it offend you, sir, ’t is for my pleasure. 55

_Orl._ Your pleasure be ’t, sir. Umh, is this your palace?

_Bell._ Yes, and our kingdom, for ’t is our content.

_Orl._ It ’s a very poor kingdom then; what, are all your subjects gone a sheep-shearing? Not a maid? not a man? not so much as a cat? You keep a good house belike, just like one (61) of your profession, every room with bare walls, and a half-headed bed to vault upon, as all your bawdy-houses are. Pray who are your upholsters? Oh, the spiders, I see, they bestow hangings upon you. 66

_Mat._ Bawdy-house? Zounds, sir—

_Bell._ Oh sweet Matheo, peace. Upon my knees I do beseech you, sir, not to arraign me For sins, which Heaven, I hope, long since hath pardoned! 70 Those flames, like lightning flashes, are so spent, The heat no more remains, than where ships went, Or where birds cut the air, the print remains.

_Mat._ Pox on him, kneel to a dog.

_Bell._ She that ’s a whore, 75 Lives gallant, fares well, is not, like me, poor. I ha’ now as small acquaintance with that sin, As if I had never known ’t, that never been.

_Orl._ No acquaintance with it? What maintains thee then? How dost live then? Has thy husband any lands, any rents coming in, any 81 stock going, any ploughs jogging, any ships sailing? Hast thou any wares to turn,[2540] so much as to get a single penny by? Yes thou hast ware to sell; 85 Knaves are thy chapmen, and thy shop is hell.

_Mat._ Do you hear, sir?

_Orl._ So, sir, I do hear, sir, more of you than you dream I do.

_Mat._ You fly a little too high, sir. 90

_Orl._ Why, sir, too high?

_Mat._ I ha’ suff’red your tongue, like a barr’d cater-tray,[2541] to run all this while, and ha’ not stopt it.

_Orl._ Well, sir, you talk like a gamester. 95

_Mat._ If you come to bark at her because she ’s a poor rogue, look you, here ’s a fine path, sir, and there, there, the door.

_Bell._ Matheo!

_Mat._ Your blue coats stay for you, sir. I love a good honest roaring boy, and so— 101

_Orl._ That ’s the devil.

_Mat._ Sir, sir, I ’ll ha’ no Joves in my house to thunder avaunt. She shall live and be maintained when you, like a keg of musty sturgeon, (105) shall stink. Where? In your coffin. How? Be a musty fellow, and lousy.

_Orl._ I know she shall be maintained, but how? She like a quean, thou like a knave; she like a whore, thou like a thief. 110

_Mat._ Thief? Zounds! Thief?

_Bell._ Good, dearest Mat!—Father!

_Mat._ Pox on you both! I ’ll not be braved. New satin scorns to be put down with bare bawdy velvet. Thief! 115

_Orl._ Ay, thief, th’ art a murderer, a cheater, a whoremonger, a pot-hunter, a borrower, a beggar—

_Bell._ Dear father—

_Mat._ An old ass, a dog, a churl, a chuff, an usurer, a villain, a moth, a mangy mule, (121) with an old velvet foot-cloth on his back, sir.

_Bell._ Oh me!

_Orl._ Varlet, for this I ’ll hang thee.

_Mat._ Ha, ha, alas!

_Orl._ Thou keepest a man of mine here, (126) under my nose.

_Mat._ Under thy beard.

_Orl._ As arrant a smell-smock, for an old mutton-monger[2542] as thyself. 130

_Mat._ No, as yourself.

_Orl._ As arrant a purse-taker as ever cried, Stand! yet a good fellow I confess, and valiant; but he ’ll bring thee to th’ gallows. You both have robb’d of late two poor country pedlars. 136

_Mat._ How ’s this? How ’s this? Dost thou fly high? Rob pedlars?—Bear witness, Front—rob pedlars? My man and I a thief?

_Bell._ Oh, sir, no more.

_Orl._ Ay, knave, two pedlars. Hue and cry (141) is up, warrants are out, and I shall see thee climb a ladder.

_Mat._ And come down again as well as a bricklayer or a tiler. [_Aside._] How the vengeance knows he this?—If I be hanged, 146 I ’ll tell the people I married old Friscobaldo’s daughter; I ’ll frisco you, and your old carcass.

_Orl._ Tell what you canst; if I stay here longer, I shall be hang’d too, for being in thy company; therefore, as I found you, I leave 151 you—

_Mat._ Kneel, and get money of him.

_Orl._ A knave and a quean, a thief and a strumpet, a couple of beggars, a brace of baggages. 156

_Mat._ Hang; upon him—Ay, ay, sir, fare you well; we are so—follow close—we are beggars—in satin—to him.

_Bell._ Is this your comfort, when so many years 160 You ha’ left me frozen to death?

_Orl._ Freeze still, starve still!

_Bell._ Yes, so I shall: I must: I must and will. If, as you say, I’m poor, relieve me then, Let me not sell my body to base men. You call me strumpet, Heaven knows I am none: 165 Your cruelty may drive me to be one: Let not that sin be yours; let not the shame Of common whore live longer than my name. That cunning bawd, Necessity, night and day Plots to undo me; drive that bag away, 170 Lest being at lowest ebb, as now I am, I sink for ever.

_Orl._ Lowest ebb, what ebb?

_Bell._ So poor, that, though to tell it be my shame, I am not worth a dish to hold my meat; I am yet poorer, I want bread to eat. 175

_Orl._ It’s not seen by your cheeks.

_Mat._ [_Aside._] I think she has read an homily to tickle the old rogue.

_Orl._ Want bread! There’s satin: bake that.

_Mat._ ’Sblood, make pasties of my clothes? 180

_Orl._ A fair new cloak, stew that; an excellent gilt rapier.

_Mat._ Will you eat that, sir?

_Orl._ I could feast ten good fellows with these hangers.[2543]

_Mat._ The pox, you shall! 185

_Orl._ I shall not, till thou begg’st, think thou art poor; And when thou begg’st I’ll feed thee at my door, As I feed dogs, with bones; till then beg, borrow, Pawn, steal, and hang, turn bawd, when thou art whore,— [_Aside._] My heart-strings sure would crack, were they strain’d more. _Exit._ 190

_Mat._ This is your father, your damn’d—Confusion light upon all the generation of you! He can come bragging hither with four white herrings at ’s tail in blue coats, without roes in their bellies; but I may starve ere he give me so much as a cob.[2544] 196

_Bell._ What tell you me of this? alas!

_Mat._ Go, trot after your dad, do you capitulate; I’ll pawn not for you; I’ll not steal to be hanged for such an hypocritical, close, common harlot: away, you dog!— 201 Brave i’ faith! Udsfoot, give me some meat.

_Bell._ Yes, sir. _Exit._

_Mat._ Goodman slave, my man too, is gallop’d to the devil a’ the t’ other side: Pacheco, I’ll checo you. Is this your dad’s day? England, (206) they say, is the only hell for horses, and only paradise for women: pray get you to that paradise, because you’re called an honest whore; there they live none but honest whores with a pox. Marry, here in our city, all your (211) sex are but foot-cloth nags:[2545] the master no sooner lights but the man leaps into the saddle.

_Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT [_with meat and drink_].

_Bell._ Will you sit down, I pray, sir?

_Mat._ [_sitting down._] I could tear, by th’ Lord, his flesh, and eat his midriff in salt, as I eat (216) this:—must I choke?—My father Friscobaldo, I shall make a pitiful hog-louse of you, Orlando, if you fall once into my fingers—Here’s the savourest meat! I ha’ got a stomach with chafing.[2546] What rogue should tell him of those (221) two pedlars? A plague choke him, and gnaw him to the bare bones!—Come fill.

_Bell._ Thou sweatest with very anger, good sweet. Vex not, ’las, ’tis no fault of mine. 225

_Mat._ Where didst buy this mutton? I never felt better ribs.

_Bell._ A neighbour sent it me.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man].

_Mat._ Hah, neighbour? Foh, my mouth stinks. You whore, do you beg victuals for me? Is this satin doublet to be bombasted[2547] with broken (231) meat? _Takes up the stool._

_Orl._ What will you do, sir?

_Mat._ Beat out the brains of a beggarly— 234

_Orl._ Beat out an ass’s head of your own.—Away, Mistress! [_Exit_ BELLAFRONT.] Zounds, do but touch one hair of her, and I’ll so quilt your cap with old iron, that your coxcomb shall ache the worse these seven years for ’t. Does she look like a roasted rabbit, that you must have the head for the brains? 241

_Mat._ Ha, ha! go out of my doors, you rogue! Away, four marks; trudge.

_Orl._ Four marks? No, sir, my twenty pound that you ha’ made fly high, and I am gone. 245

_Mat._ Must I be fed with chippings? You’re best get a clapdish,[2548] and say y’ are proctor to some spittle-house.[2549]—Where hast thou been, Pacheco? Come hither my little turkey-cock.

_Orl._ I cannot abide, sir, to see a woman wrong’d, not I. 251

_Mat._ Sirrah, here was my father-in-law to-day.

_Orl._ Pish, then y’ are full of crowns.

_Mat._ Hang him! he would ha’ thrust crowns upon me, to have fall’n in again, but I scorn cast clothes, or any man’s gold. 256

_Orl._ [_Aside._]—But mine. How did he brook that, sir?

_Mat._ Oh, swore like a dozen of drunken tinkers; at last growing foul in words, he and (260) four of his men drew upon me, sir.

_Orl._ In your house? Would I had been by!

_Mat._ I made no more ado, but fell to my old lock,[2550] and so thrashed my blue-coats and old crab-tree-face my father-in-law, and then walkt like a lion in my grate.[2551] 266

_Orl._ O noble master!

_Mat._ Sirrah, he could tell me of the robbing the two pedlars, and that warrants are out for us both. 270

_Orl._ Good sir, I like not those crackers.[2552]

_Mat._ Crackhalter,[2553] wou’t set thy foot to mine?

_Orl._ How, sir? at drinking.

_Mat._ We ’ll pull that old crow my father: rob thy master. I know the house, thou (275) the servants: the purchase[2554] is rich, the plot to get it is easy; the dog will not part from a bone.

_Orl._ Pluck’t out of his throat, then. I ’ll snarl for one, if this[2555] can bite.

_Mat._ Say no more, say no more, old coal; (280) meet me anon at the sign of the Shipwrack.

_Orl._ Yes, sir.

_Mat._ And dost hear, man?—the Shipwrack. _Exit._

_Orl._ Th’ art at the shipwrack now, and like a swimmer, Bold, but unexpert, with those waves dost play, 285 Whose dalliance, whorelike, is to cast thee away. _Enter_ HIPPOLITO _and_ BELLAFRONT. And here ’s another vessel, better fraught, But as ill-mann’d; her sinking will be wrought, If rescue come not: like a man of war I ’ll therefore bravely out; somewhat I ’ll do, And either save them both, or perish too. _Exit._ 291

_Hip._ It is my fate to be bewitched by those eyes.

_Bell._ Fate? your folly. Why should my face thus mad you? ’Las, those colours 295 Are wound up long ago, which beauty spread: The flowers that once grew here, are withered. You turn’d my black soul white, made it look new, And should I sin, it ne’er should be with you.

_Hip._ Your hand, I ’ll offer you fair play. When first 300 We met i’ th’ lists together, you remember You were a common rebel; with one parley I won you to come in.

_Bell._ You did.

_Hip._ I ’ll try If now I can beat down this chastity With the same ordnance. Will you yield this fort, 305 If the power of argument now, as then, I get of you the conquest: as before I turn’d you honest, now to turn you whore, By force of strong persuasion?

_Bell._ If you can, I yield.

_Hip._ The alarum ’s struck up; I ’m your man.

_Bell._ A woman gives defiance.

_Hip._ Sit. [_They seat themselves._]

_Bell._ Begin: 311 ’T is a brave battle to encounter sin.

_Hip._ Yon men that are to fight in the same war To which I ’m prest, and plead at the same bar, To win a woman, if you ’d have me speed, 315 Send all your wishes!

_Bell._ No doubt you ’re heard; proceed.

_Hip._ To be a harlot, that you stand upon, The very name ’s a charm to make you one. Harlotta[2556] was a dame of so divine 319 And ravishing touch[2557] that she was concubine To an English king; her sweet bewitching eye Did the king’s heart-strings in such love-knots tie That even the coyest was proud when she could hear Men say, “Behold, another Harlot there!” And after her all women that were fair 325 Were harlots call’d, as to this day some are: Besides, her dalliance she so well does mix, That she ’s in Latin call’d the _Meretrix_. Thus for the name: for the profession, this: Who lives in bondage, lives lac’d; the chief bliss 330 This world below can yield, is liberty: And who, than whores, with looser wings dare fly? As Juno’s proud bird spreads the fairest tail, So does a strumpet hoist the loftiest sail, She ’s no man’s slave; men are her slaves; her eye 335 Moves not on wheels screw’d up with jealousy. She, hors’d or coach’d, does merry Journeys make, Free as the sun in his gilt zodiac: As bravely does she shine, as fast she ’s driven, But stays not long in any house of heaven; 340 But shifts from sign to sign, her amorous prizes More rich being when she ’s down, than when she rises. In brief, gentlemen haunt them, soldiers fight for them, Few men but know them, few or none abhor them. Thus for sport’s sake speak I, as to a woman Whom, as the worst ground, I would turn to common: 346 But you I would enclose for mine own bed.

_Bell._ So should a husband be dishonoured.

_Hip._ Dishonour’d? Not a whit: to fall to one Besides your husband is to fall to none, 350 For one no number is.

_Bell._ Faith, should you take One in your bed, would you that reckoning make? ’T is time you found retreat.

_Hip._ Say, have I won, Is the day ours?

_Bell._ The battle ’s but half done, None but yourself have yet sounded alarms, 355 Let us strike too, else you dishonour arms.

_Hip._ If you can win the day, the glory’s yours.

_Bell._ To prove a woman should not be a whore: When she was made, she ’d one man, and no more; 359 Yet she was tied to laws then, for even than,[2558] ’T is said, she was not made for men, but man. Anon, t’ increase earth’s brood, the law was varied, Men should take many wives: and though they married According to that act, yet ’t is not known But that those wives were only tied to one. 365 New parliaments were since: for now one woman Is shar’d between three hundred, nay she ’s common, Common! as spotted leopards, whom for sport Men hunt to get the flesh, but care not for ’t. So spread they nets of gold, and tune their calls, 370 To enchant silly women to take falls; Swearing they ’re angels, which that they may win They ’ll hire the devil to come with false dice in. Oh Sirens’ subtle tunes! yourselves you flatter, And our weak sex betray: so men love water; It serves to wash their hands, but being once foul, 375 The water down is pour’d, cast out of doors; And even of such base use do men make whores. A harlot, like a hen, more sweetness reaps, To pick men one by one up, than in heaps: 380 Yet all feeds but confounding.[2559] Say you should taste me, I serve but for the time, and when the day Of war is done, am cashier’d out of pay: If like lame soldiers I could beg, that ’s all, And there ’s lust’s rendezvous, an hospital. 385 Who then would be a man’s slave, a man ’s woman? She ’s half starv’d the first day that feeds in common.

_Hip._ You should not feed so, but with me alone.

_Bell._ If I drink poison by stealth, is ’t not all one? Is ’t not rank poison still with you alone? 390 Nay, say you spi’d a courtesan, whose soft side To touch you ’d sell your birth-right, for one kiss Be rack’d; she ’s won, you’re sated: what follows this? Oh, then you curse that bawd that toll’d[2560] you in, The night; you curse your lust, you loathe the sin, 395 You loathe her very sight, and ere the day Arise, you rise glad when y’ are stol’n away. Even then when you are drunk with all her sweets, There ’s no true pleasure in a strumpet’s sheets. Women whom lust so prostitutes to sale, 400 Like dancers upon ropes, once seen, are stale.

_Hip._ If all the threads of harlot’s lives are spun, So coarse as you would make them, tell me why You so long lov’d the trade?

_Bell._ If all the threads Of harlot’s lives be fine as you would make them, 405 Why do not you persuade your wife turn whore, And all dames else to fall before that sin? Like an ill husband, though I knew the same To be my undoing, followed I that game. Oh, when the work of lust had earn’d my bread, 410 To taste it how I trembled, lest each bit, Ere it went down, should choke me chewing it! My bed seem’d like a cabin hung in hell, The bawd, bell’s porter, and the lickerish[2561] wine The pander fetch’d, was like an easy fine, 415 For which, methought, I leas’d away my soul; And oftentimes, even in my quaffing bowl, Thus said I to myself, I am a whore, And have drunk down thus much confusion more. 419

_Hip._ It is a common rule, and ’t is more true, Two of one trade ne’er love: no more do you. Why are you sharp ’gainst that you once profest?

_Bell._ Why dote you on that, which you did once detest? I cannot, seeing she ’s woven of such bad stuff, Set colours on a harlot base enough. 425 Nothing did make me, when I lov’d them best, To loathe them more than this: when in the street A fair young modest damsel I did meet, She seem’d to all a dove, when I pass’d by, And I to all a raven: every eye 430 That followed her went with a bashful glance, At me each bold and jeering countenance Darted forth scorn; to her as if she had been Some tower unvanquished, would they vail,[2562] ’Gainst me swoln rumour hoisted every sail; She, crown’d with reverend praises, pass’d by them, 436 I, though with face mask’d, could not scape the “Hem!” For, as if Heaven had set strange marks on whores, Because they should be pointing stocks to man, Drest up in civilest shape, a courtesan— 440 Let her walk saint-like, noteless, and unknown, Yet she ’s betray’d by some trick of her own. Were harlots therefore wise, they ’d be sold dear: For men account them good but for one year, And then like almanacs whose dates are gone, 445 They are thrown by, and no more look’d upon. Who ’ll therefore backward fall, who will launch forth In seas so foul, for ventures no more worth? Lust’s voyage hath, if not this course, this cross, Buy ne’er so cheap, your ware comes home with loss. 450 What, shall I sound retreat? The battle ’s done: Let the world judge which of us two have won.

_Hip._ I!

_Bell._ You? nay then as cowards do in fight, What by blows cannot, shall be sav’d by flight. _Exit._

_Hip._ Fly to earth’s fixed centre: to the caves Of everlasting horror. I ’ll pursue thee, 456 Though loaden with sins, even to hell’s brazen doors. Thus wisest men turn fools, doting on whores. _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2563]

_Enter the_ DUKE, LODOVICO, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man]; _after them_ INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Orl._ I beseech your grace, though your eye be so piercing as under a poor blue coat to cull out an honest father from an old serving-man, yet, good my lord, discover not the plot to any, but only this gentleman that is now to be an (5) actor in our ensuing comedy.

_Duke._ Thou hast thy wish, Orlando, pass unknown, Sforza shall only go along with thee, To see that warrant serv’d upon thy son.

_Lod._ To attach him upon felony, for two (10) pedlars: is ’t not so?

_Orl._ Right, my noble knight: those pedlars were two knaves of mine; he fleec’d the men before, and now he purposes to flay the master. He will rob me; his teeth water to be nibbling (15) at my gold; but this shall hang him by th’ gills, till I pull him on shore.

_Duke._ Away: ply you the business.

_Orl._ Thanks to your grace: but, my good lord, for my daughter— 20

_Duke._ You know what I have said.

_Orl._ And remember what I have sworn. She ’s more honest, on my soul, than one of the Turks’ wenches, watcht by a hundred eunuchs.

_Lod._ So she had need, for the Turks make (25) them whores.

_Orl._ He ’s a Turk that makes any woman a whore; he ’s no true Christian, I ’m sure. I commit your grace.

_Duke._ Infelice. 30

_Inf._ Here, sir.

_Lod._ Signor Friscobaldo.

_Orl._ Frisking again? Pacheco.

_Lod._ Uds so, Pacheco! We ’ll have some sport with this warrant: ’t is to apprehend (35) all suspected persons in the house. Besides, there ’s one Bots, a pander, and one Madam Horseleech, a bawd, that have abus’d my friend; those two conies will we ferret into the purse-net.[2564] 40

_Orl._ Let me alone for dabbing them o’ th’ neck. Come, come.

_Lod._ Do ye hear, gallants? Meet me anon at Matheo’s.

_All._ Enough. 45 _Exeunt_ LODOVICO _and_ ORLANDO.

_Duke._ Th’ old fellow sings that note thou didst before, Only his tunes are, that she is no whore, But that she sent his letters and his gifts, Out of a noble triumph o’er his lust, To show she trampled his assaults in dust. 50

_Inf._ ’T is a good honest servant, that old man.

_Duke._ I doubt no less.

_Inf._ And it may be my husband, Because when once this woman was unmaskt, He levell’d all her thoughts, and made them fit, Now he ’d mar all again, to try his wit. 55

_Duke._ It may be so too, for to turn a harlot Honest, it must be by strong antidotes; ’T is rare, as to see panthers change their spots. And when she ’s once a star fix’d and shines bright, Though ’t were impiety then to dim her light, 60 Because we see such tapers seldom burn, Yet ’t is the pride and glory of some men, To change her to a blazing star again, And it may be, Hippolito does no more.— It cannot be but you ’re acquainted all 65 With that same madness of our son-in-law, That dotes so on a courtesan.

_All._ Yes, my lord.

_Car._ All the city thinks he ’s a whoremonger.

_Ast._ Yet I warrant he ’ll swear no man marks him. 70

_Ber._ ’T is like so, for when a man goes a wenching, is as if he had a strong stinking breath, every one smells him out, yet he feels it not, though it be ranker than the sweat of sixteen bear warders. 75

_Duke._ I doubt then you have all those stinking breaths; You might be all smelt out.

_Car._ Troth, my lord. I think we are all as you ha’ been in your youth when you went a-maying; we all love to hear the cuckoo sing 80 upon other men’s trees.

_Duke._ It ’s well; yet you confess. But, girl, thy bed Shall not be parted with a courtesan. ’T is strange, No frown of mine, no frown of the poor lady, 85 My abus’d child, his wife, no care of fame, Of honour, heaven, or hell, no not that name Of common strumpet, can affright, or woo him To abandon her; the harlot does undo him; 89 She has bewitcht him, robb’d him of his shape, Turn’d him into a beast; his reason ’s lost; You see he looks wild, does he not?

_Car._ I ha’ noted New moons in ’s face, my lord, all full of change.

_Duke._ He ’s no more like unto Hippolito Than dead men are to living—never sleeps, 95 Or if he do, it ’s dreams: and in those dreams His arms work, and then cries, “Sweet”—what ’s her name. What ’s the drab’s name?

_Ast._ In troth, my lord, I know not, I know no drabs, not I.

_Duke._ Oh, Bellafront!— 99 And, catching her fast, cries, “My Bellafront!”

_Car._ A drench that ’s able to kill a horse, cannot kill this disease of smock-smelling, my lord, if it have once eaten deep.

_Duke._ I ’ll try all physic, and this medicine first: 104 I have directed warrants strong and peremptory To purge our city Milan, and to cure The outward parts, the suburbs, for the attaching Of all those women, who, like gold, want weight: Cities, like ships, should have no idle freight. 109

_Car._ No, my lord, and light wenches are no idle freight; but what ’s your grace’s reach[2565] in this?

_Duke._ This, Carolo. If she whom my son dotes on, Be in that master-book enroll’d, he ’ll shame Ever t’ approach one of such noted name. 115

_Car._ But say she be not?

_Duke._ Yet on harlots’ heads New laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows Shall give to those that haunt them, that Hippolito If not for fear of law, for love to her, If he love truly, shall her bed forbear. 120

_Car._ Attach all the light heels i’ the city and clap ’em up? Why, my lord, you dive into a well unsearchable: all the whores within the walls, and without the walls? I would not be (124) he should meddle with them for ten such dukedoms; the army that you speak on is able to fill all the prisons within this city, and to leave not a drinking-room in any tavern besides.

_Duke._ Those only shall be caught that are of note; Harlots in each street flow: 130 The fish being thus i’ th’ net, ourself will sit, And with eye most severe dispose of it. Come, girl. [_Exeunt_ DUKE _and_ INFELICE.]

_Car._ Arraign the poor whores!

_Ast._ I ’ll not miss that sessions. 135

_Font._ Nor I.

_Ber._ Nor I, though I hold up my hand there myself. _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][2566]

_Enter_ MATHEO, LODOVICO, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man].

_Mat._ Let who will come, my noble chevalier; I can but play the kind host, and bid ’em welcome.

_Lod._ We ’ll trouble your house, Matheo, but as Dutchmen do in taverns, drink, be merry, (5) and be gone.

_Orl._ Indeed, if you be right Dutchmen; if you fall to drinking, you must be gone.

_Mat._ The worst is, my wife is not at home; but we ’ll fly high, my generous knight, for all that. There ’s no music when a woman is in 11 the concert.

_Orl._ No; for she ’s like a pair of virginals, Always with jacks at her tail.

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ See, the covey is sprung. 15

_All._ Save you, gallants.

_Mat._ Happily encounter’d, sweet bloods.

_Lod._ Gentlemen, you all know Signor Candido, the linen-draper, he that ’s more patient than a brown baker upon the day when he heats his oven, and has forty scolds about him. 21

_All._ Yes, we know him all; what of him?

_Lod._ Would it not be a good fit of mirth, to make a piece of English cloth of him, and to stretch him on the tenters,[2567] till the threads of his own natural humour crack, by making (26) him drink healths, tobacco, dance, sing bawdy songs, or to run any bias[2568] according as we think good to cast him? 29

_Car._ ’T were a morris-dance worth the seeing.

_Ast._ But the old fox is so crafty, we shall hardly hunt him out of his den.

_Mat._ To that train I ha’ given fire already; and the hook to draw him hither, is to see certain pieces of lawn, which I told him I have (35) to sell, and indeed have such; fetch them down, Pacheco.

_Orl._ Yes, sir, I ’m your water-spaniel, and will fetch any thing—[_Aside._] but I ’ll fetch one dish of meat anon shall turn your stomach, and that ’s a constable. _Exit._ 41

_Enter_ BOTS _ushering_ Mistress HORSELEECH.

_All._ How now? how now?

_Car._ What galley-foist[2569] is this?

_Lod._ Peace, two dishes of stewed prunes,[2570] a bawd and a pander. My worthy lieutenant Bots; why, now I see thou ’rt a man of thy word, (46) welcome.—Welcome Mistress Horseleech.—Pray, gentlemen, salute this reverend matron.

_Mis. H._ Thanks to all your worships. 49

_Lod._ I bade a drawer send in wine, too: did none come along with thee, grannam, but the lieutenant?

_Mis. H._ None came along with me but Bots, if it like your worship.

_Bots._ Who the pox should come along with you but Bots. 56

_Enter two_ Vintners [_with wine_].

_All._ Oh brave! march fair.

_Lod._ Are you come? That ’s well.

_Mat._ Here ’s ordnance able to sack a city.

_Lod._ Come, repeat, read this inventory. 60

_1 Vint. Imprimis_, a pottle[2571] of Greek wine, a pottle of Peter-sameene,[2572] a pottle of Charneco,[2573] and a pottle of Leatica.[2574]

_Lod._ You ’re paid?

_2 Vint._ Yes, Sir. _Exeunt_ Vintners.

_Mat._ So shall some of us be anon, I fear. 66

_Bots._ Here ’s a hot day towards: but zounds, this is the life out of which a soldier sucks sweetness! When this artillery goes off roundly, some must drop to the ground: cannon, demi-cannon, saker, and basilisk.[2575] 71

_Lod._ Give fire, lieutenant.

_Bots._ So, so: must I venture first upon the breach? To you all, gallants; Bots sets upon you all. [_Drinks._] 75

_All._ It ’s hard, Bots, if we pepper not you, as well as you pepper us.

_Enter_ CANDIDO.

_Lod._ My noble linen-draper!—Some wine!—Welcome, old lad!

_Mat._ You ’re welcome, signor. 80

_Cand._ These lawns, sir?

_Mat._ Presently; my man is gone for them. We ha’ rigged a fleet, you see here, to sail about the world.

_Cand._ A dangerous voyage, sailing in such ships. 86

_Bots._ There ’s no casting over board yet.

_Lod._ Because you are an old lady, I will have you be acquainted with this grave citizen. Pray bestow your lips upon him, and bid him welcome. 91

_Mis. H._ Any citizen shall be most welcome to me:—I have used to buy ware at your shop.

_Cand._ It may be so, good madam. 94

_Mis. H._ Your prentices know my dealings well; I trust your good wife be in good case. If it please you, bear her a token from my lips, by word of mouth. [_Kisses him._]

_Cand._ I pray, no more; forsooth, ’t is very well; Indeed I love no sweetmeats.—[_Aside._] Sh ’as a breath 100 Stinks worse than fifty polecats.—Sir, a word, Is she a lady?

_Lod._ A woman of a good house, and an ancient; she ’s a bawd.

_Cand._ A bawd? Sir, I ’ll steal hence, and see your lawns 105 Some other time.

_Mat._ Steal out of such company? Pacheco, my man, is but gone for ’em. Lieutenant Bots, drink to this worthy old fellow, and teach him to fly high. 110

_All._ Swagger; and make him do ’t on his knees.

_Cand._ How, Bots? Now bless me, what do I with Bots? No wine in sooth, no wine, good master Bots. 114

_Bots._ Gray-beard, goat’s pizzle, ’t is a health; have this in your guts, or this, there [_touching his sword_]. I will sing a bawdy song, sir, because your verjuice[2576] face is melancholy, to make liquor go down glib. Will you fall on your marrowbones, and pledge this health? ’T is to my mistress, a whore. 121

_Cand._ Here ’s ratsbane upon ratsbane, Master Bots. I pray, sir, pardon me: you are a soldier, Press me not to this service, I am old, And shoot not in such pot-guns.[2577]

_Bots._ Cap, I ’ll teach you. 125

_Cand._ To drink healths, is to drink sickness.—Gentlemen, Pray rescue me.

_Bots._ Zounds, who dare?

_All._ We shall ha’ stabbing then?

_Cand._ I ha’ reckonings to cast up, good Master Bots. 130

_Bots._ This will make you cast ’em up better.

_Lod._ Why does your hand shake so?

_Cand._ The palsy, signors, danceth in my blood.

_Bots._ Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or I ’ll make your blood dance—135

_Cand._ Hold, hold, good Master Bolts, I drink. [_Kneels._]

_All._ To whom?

_Cand._ To the old countess there. [_Drinks._]

_Mis. H._ To me, old boy? This is he that never drunk wine! Once again to ’t. 140

_Cand._ With much ado the poison is got down, Though I can scarce get up; never before Drank I a whore’s health, nor will never more.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO _with lawns._

_Mat._ Hast been at gallows?

_Orl._ Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to-day. 146

_Mat._ Look, signor; here ’s the commodity.

_Cand._ Your price?

_Mat._ Thus.[2578]

_Cand._ No; too dear: thus. 150

_Mat._ No. O fie, you must fly higher. Yet take ’em home, trifles shall not make us quarrel; we ’ll agree; you shall have them, and a pennyworth. I ’ll fetch money at your shop. 154

_Cand._ Be it so, good signor, send me going.

_Mat._ Going? A deep bowl of wine for Signor Candido.

_Orl._ He would be going.

_Cand._ I ’ll rather stay than go so: stop your bowl.

_Enter_ Constable _and_ Billmen.

_Lod._ How now? 160

_Bots._ Is ’t Shrove-Tuesday, that these ghosts walk?[2579]

_Mat._ What ’s your business, sir?

_Const._ From the duke: you are the man we look for, signor. I have warrant here from (165) the duke, to apprehend you upon felony for robbing two pedlars. I charge you i’ th’ duke’s name, go quickly.

_Mat._ Is the wind turn’d? Well, this is that old wolf, my father-in-law.—Seek out your mistress, sirrah. 171

_Orl._ Yes, Sir.—[_Aside._] As shafts by piecing are made strong, So shall thy life be straight’ned by this wrong. _Exit._

_All._ In troth, we are sorry. 174

_Mat._ Brave men must be crost; pish, it ’s but Fortune’s dice roving[2580] against me. Come, sir, pray use me like a gentleman; let me not be carried through the streets like a pageant.

_Const._ If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them. 180

_All._ Be ’t so: come.

_Const._ What are you, sir?

_Bots._ I, sir? Sometimes a figure, sometimes a cipher, as the State has occasion to cast up her accounts. I ’m a soldier. 185

_Const._ Your name is Bots, is ’t not?

_Bots._ Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company.

_Const._ I know you are, sir: what ’s she?

_Bots._ A gentlewoman, my mother. 190

_Const._ Take ’em both along.

_Bots._ Me, sir?

_Billmen._ [Ay,] sir!

_Const._ If he swagger, raise the street. 194

_Bots._ Gentlemen, gentlemen, whither will you drag us?

_Lod._ To the garden house. Bots, are we even with you?

_Const._ To Bridewell with ’em.

_Bots._ You will answer this. 200

_Const._ Better than a challenge. I have warrant for my work, sir.

_Lod._ We ’ll go before.

_Const._ Pray do.— _Exeunt_ [MATHEO _with_ LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL; BOTS _and_ Mistress HORSELEECH, _with_ Billmen.] Who, Signor Candido? a citizen 205 Of your degree consorted thus, and revelling In such a house?

_Cand._ Why, sir? what house, I pray?

_Const._ Lewd, and defam’d.

_Cand._ Is ’t so? thanks, sir: I ’m gone.

_Const._ What have you there?

_Cand._ Lawns which I bought, sir, of the gentleman 210 That keeps the house.

_Const._ And I have warrant here, To search for such stol’n ware: these lawns are stol’n.

_Cand._ Indeed!

_Const._ So he ’s the thief, you the receiver: (213) I ’m sorry for this chance, I must commit you.

_Cand._ Me, sir, for what?

_Const._ These goods are found upon you, And you must answer ’t.

_Cand._ Must I so?

_Const._ Most certain.

_Cand._ I ’ll send for bail.

_Const._ I dare not: yet because You are a citizen of worth, you shall not Be made a pointing stock, but without guard, Pass only with myself.

_Cand._ To Bridewell too? 220

_Const._ No remedy.

_Cand._ Yes, patience. Being not mad, They had me once to Bedlam, now I ’m drawn To Bridewell, loving no whores.

_Const._ You will buy lawn! _Exeunt._

[ACT V]

[SCENE I.][2581]

_Enter at one door_ HIPPOLITO; _at another_, LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ Yonder ’s the Lord Hippolito; by any means leave him and me together. Now will I turn him to a madman.

_All._ Save you my lord. _Exeunt_ [_all except_ HIPPOLITO _and_ LODOVICO].

_Lod._ I ha’ strange news to tell you. 5

_Hip._ What are they?

_Lod._ Your mare ’s i’ th’ pound.

_Hip._ How ’s this?

_Lod._ Your nightingale is in a limebush.

_Hip._ Ha? 10

_Lod._ Your puritanical honest whore sits in a blue gown.[2582]

_Hip._ Blue gown!

_Lod._ She ’ll chalk out your way to her now: she beats chalk.[2583] 15

_Hip._ Where? who dares?—

_Lod._ Do you know the brick-house of castigation, by the river side that runs by Milan,—the school where they pronounce no letter well but O? 20

_Hip._ I know it not.

_Lod._ Any man that has borne office of constable or any woman that has fallen from a horse-load to a cart-load,[2584] or like an old hen that has had none but rotten eggs in her nest, (25) can direct you to her; there you shall see your punk amongst her back-friends.[2585] There you may have her at your will, For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill, With a whip deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle; 30 Ah, little monkey!

_Hip._ What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I loved her?

_Lod._ Some worshipful rascal, I lay my life.

_Hip._ I ’ll beat the lodgings down about their ears 35 That are her keepers.

_Lod._ So you may bring an old house over her head.

_Hip._ I ’ll to her— I ’ll to her, stood armed fiends to guard the doors. _Exit._

_Lod._ Oh me! what monsters are men made by whores! 40 If this false fire do kindle him, there ’s one faggot More to the bonfire. Now to my Bridewell birds; What song will they sing? _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2586]

_Enter_ DUKE, INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and three or four_ Masters of Bridewell.

_Duke._ Your Bridewell? that the name? For beauty, strength, Capacity and form of ancient building, Besides the river’s neighbourhood, few houses Wherein we keep our court can better it.

_1 Mast._ Hither from foreign courts have princes come, 5 And with our duke did acts of State commence. Here that great cardinal had first audience, The grave Campayne; that duke dead, his son That famous prince, gave free possession Of this, his palace, to the citizens, 10 To be the poor man’s ware-house; and endow’d it With lands to th’ value of seven hundred mark,[2587] With all the bedding and the furniture, once proper, As the lands then were, to an hospital Belonging to a Duke of Savoy. Thus 15 Fortune can toss the world; a prince’s court Is thus a prison now.

_Duke._ ’Tis Fortune’s sport: These changes common are: the wheel of fate Turns kingdoms up, till they fall desolate. But how are these seven hundred marks by th’ year 20 Employ’d in this your work-house?

_1 Mast._ War and peace Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors Of war burst open, from this house are sent Men furnisht in all martial complement. The moon hath through her bow scarce drawn to th’ head, 25 Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months, Since sixteen hundred soldiers went aboard. Here providence and charity play such parts, The house is like a very school of arts; For when our soldiers, like ships driven from sea, 30 With ribs all broken, and with tatter’d sides, Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs How often do we cover! that, like men, They may be sent to their own homes again. 34 All here are but one swarm of bees, and strive To bring with wearied thighs honey to the hive. The sturdy beggar, and the lazy loon,[2588] Gets here hard hands, or lac’d[2589] correction. The vagabond grows staid and learns t’ obey, The drone is beaten well, and sent away. 40 As other prisons are, some for the thief, Some, by which undone credit gets relief From bridled debtors; others for the poor, So this is for the bawd, the rogue, the whore.

_Car._ An excellent team of horse!

_1 Mast._ Nor is it seen 45 That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen Of any rugged bencher;[2590] nor does offence Feel smart on spiteful or rash evidence; But pregnant testimony forth must stand, Ere justice leave them in the beadle’s hand. 50 As iron, on the anvil are they laid, Not to take blows alone, but to be made And fashion’d to some charitable use.

_Duke._ Thus wholsom’st laws spring from the worst abuse.

_Enter_ ORLANDO, [_disguised as a_ Serving-man,] _before_ BELLAFRONT.

_Bell._ Let mercy touch your heart-strings, gracious lord, 55 That it may sound like music in the ear Of a man desperate, being i’ th’ hands of law.

_Duke._ His name?

_Bell._ Matheo.

_Duke._ For a robbery? Where is he?

_Bell._ In this house. _Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT _and one of the_ Masters of Bridewell.

_Duke._ Fetch you him hither— Is this the party? 60

_Orl._ This is the hen, my lord, that the cock with the lordly comb, your son-in-law, would crow over, and tread.

_Duke._ Are your two servants ready?

_Orl._ My two pedlars are pack’d together, my good lord. 65

_Duke._ ’T is well; this day in judgment shall be spent: Vice, like a wound lanc’d, mends by punishment.

_Inf._ Let me be gone, my lord, or stand unseen; ’T is rare when a judge strikes and that none die, And ’t is unfit then women should be by. 70

_1 Mast._ We’ll place you, lady, in some private room.

_Inf._ Pray do so. _Exit_ [_with a_ Master, _who returns alone_].

_Orl._ Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes Should view men carv’d up for anatomies,[2591] Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen; Many women sure will sin behind a screen. 76

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Your son, the Lord Hippolito, is ent’red.

_Duke._ Tell him we wish his presence. A word, Sforza; On what wings flew he hither? 79

_Lod._ These:—I told him his lark whom he loved, was a Bridewell-bird; he’s mad that this cage should hold her, and is come to let her out.

_Duke._ ’T is excellent: away, go call him hither. _Exit_ LODOVICO. 85

_Re-enter one of the_ Governors _of the House_; BELLAFRONT _after him with_ MATHEO; _after him the_ Constable; _enter at another door_ LODOVICO _and_ HIPPOLITO. ORLANDO _steps forth and brings in two_ [_of his_ Servants _disguised as_] Pedlars.

_Duke._ You are to us a stranger, worthy lord; ’T is strange to see you here.

_Hip._ It is most fit That where the sun goes, atomies[2592] follow it.

_Duke._ Atomies neither shape nor honour bear: Be you yourself, a sunbeam to shine clear.— 90 Is this the gentleman? Stand forth and hear Your accusation.

_Mat._ I’ll hear none; I fly high in that: rather than kites shall seize upon me, and (94) pick out mine eyes to my face, I’ll strike my talons through mine own heart first, and spit my blood in theirs. I am here for shriving those two fools of their sinful pack. When those jackdaws have caw’d over me, then must I cry (99) guilty, or not guilty. The law has work enough already and therefore I’ll put no work of mine into his hands; the hangman shall ha ’t first. I did pluck those ganders, did rob them.

_Duke._ ’T is well done to confess. 104

_Mat._ Confess and be hanged, and then I fly high, is ’t not so? That for that; a gallows is the worst rub[2593] that a good bowler can meet with; I stumbled against such a post, else this night I had play’d the part of a true son in (109) these days, undone my father-in-law; with him would I ha’ run at leap-frog, and come over his gold, though I had broke his neck for ’t: but the poor salmon-trout is now in the net.

_Hip._ And now the law must teach you to fly high. 114

_Mat._ Right, my lord, and then may you fly low; no more words:—a mouse, mum, you are stopp’d.

_Bell._ Be good to my poor husband, dear my lords.

_Mat._ Ass! 119 Why shouldst thou pray them to be good to me, When no man here is good to one another?

_Duke._ Did any hand work in this theft but yours?

_Mat._ O yes, my lord, yes:—the hangman has never one son at a birth, his children always come by couples. Though I cannot give 125 the old dog, my father, a bone to gnaw, the daughter shall be sure of a choke-pear.—Yes, my lord, there was one more that fiddled my fine pedlars, and that was my wife.

_Bell._ Alas, I? 130

_Orl._ [_Aside._] O everlasting, supernatural, superlative villain!

_All._ Your wife, Matheo?

_Hip._ Sure it cannot be. 134

_Mat._ Oh, sir, you love no quarters of mutton that hang up, you love none but whole mutton. She set the robbery, I perform’d it; she spurr’d me on, I gallop’d away.

_Orl._ My lords,—

_Bell._ My lords,—fellow, give me speech,—if my poor life 140 May ransom thine, I yield it to the law. Thou hurt’st thy soul, yet wip’st off no offence, By casting blots upon my innocence. Let not these spare me, but tell truth; no, see Who slips his neck out of the misery, 145 Though not out of the mischief. let thy servant That shar’d in this base act accuse me here. Why should my husband perish, he go clear?

_Orl._ [_Aside._] A good child, hang thine own father!

_Duke._ Old fellow, was thy hand in too? 150

_Orl._ My hand was in the pie, my lord, I confess it. My mistress, I see, will bring me to the gallows, and so leave me; but I’ll not leave her so: I had rather hang in a woman’s company, (154) than in a man’s; because if we should go to hell together, I should scarce be letten in, for all the devils are afraid to have any women come amongst them. As I am true thief, she neither consented to this felony, nor knew of it. 160

_Duke._ What fury prompts thee on to kill thy wife?

_Mat._ It is my humour, sir, ’t is a foolish bag-pipe that I make myself merry with. Why should I eat hemp-seed at the hangman’s thirteen-pence halfpenny[2594] ordinary, and have this whore laugh at me, as I swing, as I totter? 166

_Duke._ Is she a whore?

_Mat._ A six-penny mutton pasty, for any to cut up.

_Orl._ Ah, toad, toad, toad. 169

_Mat._ A barber’s cittern[2595] for every serving-man to play upon; that lord, your son, knows it.

_Hip._ I, sir? Am I her bawd then?

_Mat._ No, sir, but she’s your whore then.

_Orl._ [_Aside._] Yea, spider; dost catch at great flies?

_Hip._ My whore? 175

_Mat._ I cannot talk, sir, and tell of your rems and your rees and your whirligigs and devices: but, my lord, I found ’em like sparrows in one nest, billing together, and bulling of me. I took ’em in bed, was ready to kill him, was up (180) to stab her—

_Hip._ Close thy rank jaws:—pardon me, I am vex’d.— Thou art a villain, a malicious devil; Deep as the place where thou art lost, thou liest. Since I am thus far got into this storm, 185 I’ll through, and thou shalt see I’ll through untoucht. When thou shalt perish in it.

_Re-enter_ INFELICE.

_Inf._ ’T is my cue To enter now.—Room! let my prize[2596] be play’d; I ha’ lurked in clouds, yet heard what all have said; What jury more can prove sh’as wrong’d my bed, 190 Than her own husband? She must be punished. I challenge law, my lord; letters and gold And jewels from my lord that woman took.

_Hip._ Against that black-mouth’d devil, against letters and gold, And against a jealous wife, I do uphold 195 Thus far her reputation; I could sooner Shake th’ Appenine and crumble rocks to dust Than, though Jove’s shower rain’d down, tempt her to lust.

_Bell._ What shall I say?

_Orl._ (_discovers himself._) Say thou art not a (200) whore, and that’s more than fifteen women amongst five hundred dare swear without lying, this shalt thou say—no, let me say’t for thee;—thy husband’s a knave, this lord’s an honest man; thou art no punk, this lady’s a right (205) lady. Pacheco is a thief as his master is, but old Orlando is as true a man as thy father is. I ha’ seen you fly high, sir, and I ha’ seen you fly low, sir, and to keep you from the gallows, sir, a blue coat have I worn, and a thief did I turn. 210 Mine own men are the pedlars, my twenty pounds did fly high, sir, your wife’s gown did fly low, sir: whither fly you now, sir? You ha’ scap’d the gallows, to the devil you fly next, sir. Am I right, my liege? 215

_Duke._ Your father has the true physician play’d.

_Mat._ And I am now his patient.

_Hip._ And be so still; ’Tis a good sign when our cheeks blush at ill.

_Const._ The linen-draper, Signor Candido, He whom the city terms the patient man, 220 Is likewise here for buying of those lawns The pedlars lost.

_Inf._ Alas, good Candido!

_Duke._ Fetch him; and when these payments up are cast, _Exit_ Constable. Weigh out your light gold, but let’s have them last.

_Enter_ CANDIDO _and_ Constable, [_who presently goes out._]

_Duke._ In Bridewell, Candido?

_Cand._ Yes, my good lord. 225

_Duke._ What make you here?

_Cand._ My lord, what make you here?

_Duke._ I’m here to save right, and to drive wrong hence.

_Cand._ And I to bear wrong here with patience.

_Duke._ You ha’ bought stol’n goods.

_Cand._ So they do say, my lord. Yet bought I them upon a gentleman’s word. And I imagine now, as I thought then, 231 That there be thieves, but no thieves, gentlemen.

_Hip._ Your credit’s crack’d, being here.

_Cand._ No more than gold, Being crack’d, which does his estimation hold. I was in Bedlam once, but was I mad? 235 They made me pledge whores’ healths, but am I bad Because I’m with bad people?

_Duke._ Well, stand by; If you take wrong, we’ll cure the injury.

_Re-enter_ Constable, _after him_ BOTS, _after them two_ Beadles, _one with hemp, the other with a beetle_.[2597]

_Duke._ Stay, stay, what ’s he? A prisoner?

_Const._ Yes, my lord. 240

_Hip._ He seems a soldier?

_Bots._ I am what I seem, sir, one of fortune’s bastards, a soldier and a gentleman, and am brought in here with master constable’s band of billmen, because they face me down that I (245) live, like those that keep bowling alleys, by the sins of the people, in being a squire of the body.

_Hip._ Oh, an apple-squire.[2598]

_Bots._ Yes, sir, that degree of scurvy squires; and that I am maintained by the best part (250) that is commonly in a woman, by the worst players of those parts; but I am known to all this company.

_Lod._ My lord, ’t is true, we all know him; ’t is lieutenant Bots. 255

_Duke._ Bots, and where ha’ you served, Bots?

_Bots._ In most of your hottest services in the Low-countries: at the Groyne I was wounded in this thigh, and halted upon ’t, but ’t is now sound. In Cleveland I mist but little, having the bridge of my nose broken down with (261) two great, stones, as I was scaling a fort. I ha’ been tried, sir, too, in Gelderland, and scap’d hardly there from being blown up at a breach: I was fired, and lay i’ th’ surgeon’s hands (265) for ’t, till the fall of the leaf following.

_Hip._ All this may be, and yet you no soldier.

_Bots._ No soldier, sir? I hope these are services that your proudest commanders do venture upon, and never come off sometimes. 270

_Duke._ Well, sir, because you say you are a soldier, I’ll use you like a gentleman.—Make room there, Plant him amongst you; we shall have anon Strange hawks fly here before us. If none light On you, you shall with freedom take your flight; But if you prove a bird of baser wing, 276 We’ll use you like such birds, here you shall sing.

_Bots._ I wish to be tried at no other weapon.

_Duke._ Why, is he furnisht with those implements?

_1 Master._ The pander is more dangerous to a State 280 Than is the common thief; and though our laws Lie heavier on the thief, yet that the pander May know the hangman’s ruff should fit him too, Therefore he’s set to beat hemp.

_Duke._ This does savour Of justice; basest slaves to basest labour. 285 Now pray, set open hell, and let us see The she-devils that are here.

_Inf._ Methinks this place Should make e’en Lais honest.

_1 Mast._ Some it turns good, But as some men, whose hands are once in blood, Do in a pride spill more, so, some going hence Are, by being here, lost in more impudence. 291 Let it not to them, when they come, appear That any one does as their judge sit here; But that as gentlemen you come to see. And then perhaps their tongues will walk more free. 295

_Duke._ Let them be marshall’d in.— [_Exeunt_ Masters, Constable, _and_ Beadles.]—Be cover’d all, Fellows, now to make the scene more comical.

_Car._ Will not you be smelt out, Bots?

_Bots._ No, your bravest whores have the worst noses.

_Re-enter two of the_ Masters; _a_ Constable _after them, then_ DOROTHEA TARGET, _brave_;[2599] _after her two_ Beadles, _th’ one with a wheel, the other with a blue gown_.

_Lod._ Are not you a bride, forsooth? 300

_Dor._ Say ye?

_Car._ He would know if these be not your bridemen.

_Dor._ Vuh! yes, sir: and look ye, do you see? the bride-laces that I give at my wedding, will serve to tie rosemary to both your coffins when you come from hanging—Scab! 306

_Orl._ Fie, punk, fie, fie, fie!

_Dor._ Out, you stale, stinking head of garlic, foh, at my heels.

_Orl._ My head’s cloven. 310

_Hip._ O, let the gentlewoman alone, she’s going to shrift.

_Ast._ Nay, to do penance.

_Car._ Ay, ay, go, punk, go to the cross and be whipt. 315

_Dor._ Marry mew, marry muff,[2600] marry, hang you, goodman dog. Whipt? do ye take me for a base, spital-whore? In troth, gentlemen, you wear the clothes of gentlemen, but you carry not the minds of gentlemen, to abuse (320) a gentlewoman of my fashion.

_Lod._ Fashion? Pox a’ your fashions! Art not a whore?

_Dor._ Goodman slave.

_Duke._ O fie, abuse her not, let us two talk, What mought I call your name, pray? 326

_Dor._ I’m not ashamed of my name, sir; my name is Mistress Doll Target, a Western gentlewoman. 329

_Lod._ Her target against any pike in Milan.

_Duke._ Why is this wheel borne after her?

_1 Mast._ She must spin.

_Dor._ A coarse thread it shall be, as all threads are.

_Ast._ If you spin, then you’ll earn money here too? 334

_Dor._ I had rather get half-a-crown abroad, than ten crowns here.

_Orl._ Abroad? I think so.

_Inf._ Dost thou not weep now thou art here?

_Dor._ Say ye? weep? Yes, forsooth, as you did when you lost your maidenhead. Do you (340) not hear how I weep? _Sings._

_Lod._ Farewell, Doll.

_Dor._ Farewell, dog. _Exit._

_Duke._ Past shame: past penitence! Why is that blue gown? 345

_1 Mast._ Being stript out of her wanton loose attire, That garment she puts on, base to the eye, Only to clothe her in humility.

_Duke._ Are all the rest like this?

_1 Mast._ No, my good lord, You see, this drab swells with a wanton rein, 350 The next that enters has a different strain.

_Duke._ Variety is good, let’s see the rest. _Exit_ 1 Master.

_Bots._ Your grace sees I’m sound yet, and no bullets hit me.

_Duke._ Come off so, and ’t is well.

_All._ Here’s the second mess. 356

_Re-enter the two_ Masters, _after them_ Constable, _after him_ PENELOPE WHOREHOUND, _like a_ Citizen’s Wife; _after her two_ Beadles, _one with a blue gown, another with chalk and a mallet_.

_Pen._ I ha’ worn many a costly gown, but I was never thus guarded[2601] with blue coats, and beadles, and constables, and—

_Car._ Alas, fair mistress, spoil not thus your eyes. 360

_Pen._ Oh, sweet sir, I feel the spoiling of other places about me that are dearer than my eyes; if you be gentlemen, if you be men, or ever came of a woman, pity my case! Stand to me, stick to me, good sir, you are an old man. 365

_Orl._ Hang not on me, I prithee; old trees bear no such fruit.

_Pen._ Will you bail me, gentlemen?

_Lod._ Bail thee? Art in for debt? 369

_Pen._ No; God is my judge, sir, I am in for no debts; I paid my tailor for this gown, the last five shillings a-week that was behind, yesterday.

_Duke._ What is your name. I pray?

_Pen._ Penelope Whorehound, I come of the Whorehounds. How does lieutenant Bots? 375

_All._ Aha, Bots?

_Bots._ A very honest woman, as I’m a soldier—a pox Bots ye.

_Pen._ I was never in this pickle before; and yet if I go amongst citizens’ wives, they (380) jeer at me; if I go among the loose-bodied gowns,[2602] they cry a pox on me, because I go civilly attired, and swear their trade was a good trade, till such as I am took it out of their (384) hands. Good lieutenant Bots, speak to these captains to bail me.

_1 Mast._ Begging for bail still? You are a trim gossip. Go give her the blue gown, set her to her chare. Work,[2603] huswife, for your bread, away. 390

_Pen._ Out, you dog!—a pox on you all!—women are born to curse thee—but I shall live to see twenty such flat-caps shaking dice for a penny-worth of pippins. Out, you blue-eyed rogue! _Exit._ 395

_All._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Duke._ Even now she wept, and pray’d; now does she curse?

_1 Mast._ Seeing me; if still she had stay’d, this had been worse. 400

_Hip._ Was she ever here before?

_1 Mast._ Five times at least, And thus, if men come to her, have her eyes Wrung, and wept out her bail.

_All._ Bots, you know her?

_Bots._ Is there any gentleman here, that knows not a whore, and is he a hair the worse for that? 406

_Duke._ Is she a city-dame? She’s so attired.

_1 Mast._ No, my good lord, that’s only but the veil To her loose body. I have seen her here In gayer masking suits; as several sauces 410 Give one dish several tastes, so change of habits In whores is a bewitching art: to-day She’s all in colours to besot gallants, then In modest black, to catch the citizen, And this from their examination’s drawn. 415 Now shall you see a monster both in shape And nature quite from these, that sheds no tear Nor yet is nice, ’tis a plain ramping bear; Many such whales are cast upon this shore. 419

_All._ Let’s see her.

_1 Mast._ Then behold a swaggering whore. _Exeunt_ [Masters _and_ Constable].

_Orl._ Keep your ground, Bots.

_Bots._ I do but traverse to spy advantage how to arm myself.

_Re-enter the two_ Masters _first_; _after them the_ Constable; _after them a_ Beadle _beating a basin_,[2604] _then_ CATHERINA BOUNTINALL, _with_ Mistress HORSELEECH; _after them another_ Beadle _with a blue head guarded[2605] with yellow_.

_Cat._ Sirrah, when I cry, hold your hands, hold, you rogue-catcher, hold.—Bawd, are (425) the French chilblains in your heels, that you can come no faster? Are not you, bawd, a whore’s ancient,[2606] and must not I follow my colours?

_Mis. H._ O Mistress Catherine, you do me wrong to accuse me here as you do, before (430) the right worshipful. I am known for a motherly, honest woman, and no bawd.

_Cat._ Marry foh, honest? Burnt[2607] at fourteen, seven times whipt, six times carted, nine times duck’d, search’d by some hundred and (435) fifty constables, and yet you are honest? Honest Mistress Horseleech, is this world a world to keep bawds and whores honest? How many times hast thou given gentlemen a quart of wine in a gallon pot? How many twelve-penny fees, nay two shillings fees, nay, when any (441) ambassadors ha’ been here, how many half-crown fees hast thou taken? How many carriers hast thou bribed for country wenches? How often have I rinst your lungs in _aqua vitae_, and yet you are honest? 446

_Duke._ And what were you the whilst?

_Cat._ Marry hang you, master slave, who made you an examiner?

_Lod._ Well said! belike this devil spares no man. 451

_Cat._ What art thou, prithee? [_To_ BOTS.]

_Bots._ Nay, what art thou, prithee?

_Cat._ A whore, art thou a thief? 454

_Bots._ A thief, no, I defy[2608] the calling; I am a soldier, have borne arms in the field, been in many a hot skirmish, yet come off sound.

_Cat._ Sound, with a pox to ye, ye abominable rogue! You a soldier? You in skirmishes? (459) Where? Amongst pottle pots in a bawdy-house? Look, look here, you Madam Worm-eaten, do you not know him?

_Mis. H._ Lieutenant Bots, where have ye been this many a day?

_Bots._ Old bawd, do not discredit me, seem not to know me. 465

_Mis. H._ Not to know ye, Master Bots? As long as I have breath, I cannot forget thy sweet face.

_Duke._ Why, do you know him? He says he is a soldier. 471

_Cat._ He a soldier? A pander, a dog that will lick up sixpence. Do ye hear, you master swines’-snout, how long is’t since you held the door for me, and cried, “To ’t again, no (475) body comes!” Ye rogue, you?

_All._ Ha, ha, ha! y’ are smelt out again, Bots.

_Bots._ Pox ruin her nose for ’t! An I be not revenged for this—um, ye bitch!

_Lod._ D’ ye hear ye, madam? Why does your ladyship swagger thus? You’re very brave, (481) methinks.

_Cat._ Not at your cost, master cod’s-head; Is any man here blear-eyed to see me brave?

_Ast._ Yes. I am. 485 Because good clothes upon a whore’s back Is like fair painting upon a rotten wall.

_Cat._ Marry muff, master whoremaster, you come upon me with sentences.

_Ber._ By this light, has small sense for’t. 490

_Lod._ O fie, fie, do not vex her! And yet methinks a creature of more scurvy conditions should not know what a good petticoat were.

_Cat._ Marry, come out; you’re so busy (494) about my petticoat, you’ll creep up to my placket, an ye could but attain the honour: but an the outsides offend your rogue-ships, look o’ the lining, ’tis silk.

_Duke._ Is’t silk ’tis lined with, then? 499

_Cat._ Silk? Ay, silk, master slave, you would be glad to wipe your nose with the skirt on’t. This ’tis to come among a company of cod’s-heads[2609] that know not how to use a gentlewoman.

_Duke._ Tell her the duke is here. 505

_1 Mast._ Be modest, Kate, the duke is here.

_Cat._ If the devil were here, I care not. Set forward, ye rogues, and give attendance according to your places! Let bawds and whores 509 be sad, for I’ll sing an the devil were a-dying. _Exit_ [_with_ Mistress HORSELEECH _and_ Beadles].

_Duke._ Why before her does the basin ring?

_1 Mast._ It is an emblem of their revelling. The whips we use let forth their wanton blood, Making them calm; and, more to calm their pride, Instead of coaches they in carts do ride. 515 Will your grace see more of this bad ware?

_Duke._ No, shut up shop, we’ll now break up the fair. Yet ere we part—you, sir, that take upon ye The name of soldier, that true name of worth, Which, action, not vain boasting, best sets forth, To let you know how far a soldier’s name 521 Stands from your title, and to let you see Soldiers must not be wrong’d where princes be; This be your sentence:—

_All._ Defend yourself, Bots. 525

_Duke._ First, all the private sufferance that the house Inflicts upon offenders, you, as the basest, Shall undergo it double, after which You shall be whipt, sir, round about the city, Then banisht from the land. 530

_Bots._ Beseech, your grace!

_Duke._ Away with him, see it done. Panders and whores Are city-plagues, which, being kept alive, Nothing that looks like goodness ere can thrive. Now good Orlando, what say you to your bad son-in-law? 535

_Orl._ Marry this, my lord, he is my son-in-law, and in law will I be his father: for if law can pepper him, he shall be so parboil’d, that he shall stink no more i’ th’ nose of the commonwealth. 540

_Bell._ Be yet more kind and merciful, good father.

_Orl._ Dost thou beg for him, thou precious man’s meat, thou? Has he not beaten thee, kickt thee, trod on thee, and dost thou fawn 544 on him like his spaniel? Has he not pawn’d thee to thy petticoat, sold thee to thy smock, made ye leap at a crust, yet wouldst, have me save him?

_Bell._ Oh yes, good sir, women shall learn of me, To love their husbands in greatest misery; 550 Then show him pity, or you wrack myself.

[_Orl._] Have ye eaten pigeons, that you’re so kindhearted to your mate? Nay, you’re a couple of wild bears, I’ll have ye both baited at one stake: but as for this knave, the gallows (555) is thy due, and the gallows thou shalt have. I’ll have justice of the duke, the law shall have thy life.—What, dost thou hold him? Let go his hand. If thou dost not forsake him, a (559) father’s everlasting blessing fall upon both your heads! Away, go, kiss out of my sight, play thou the whore no more, nor thou the thief again; my house shall be thine, my meat shall be thine, and so shall my wine, but my money shall be mine, and yet when I die, so thou dost not fly high, take all; 566 Yet, good Matheo, mend. Thus for joy weeps Orlando, and doth end.

_Duke._ Then hear, Matheo: all your woes are stayed By your good father-in-law: all your ills 570 Are clear purg’d from you by his working pills.— Come, Signor Candido, these green young wits, We see by circumstance, this plot have laid Still to provoke thy patience, which they find A wall of brass; no armour’s like the mind. 575 Thou hast taught the city patience, now our court Shall be thy sphere, where from thy good report, Rumours this truth unto the world shall sing, A patient man’s a pattern for a king. _Exeunt._

THE MALCONTENT

BY JOHN MARSTON

BENIAMINO JONSONIO, POETAE ELEGANTISSIMO, GRAVISSIMO, AMICO SVO, CANDIDO ET CORDATO, IOHANNES MARSTON, MVSARVM ALVMNVS, ASPERAM HANC SVAM THALIAM D.D.

[Members of the Company of His Majesty’s Servants appearing in the INDUCTION

W. SLY. D. BURBADGE. J. LOWIN. SINKLO. H. CONDELL. A Tire-man.]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

GIOVANNI ALTOFRONTO, disguised as MALEVOLE, sometime Duke of Genoa. PIETRO JACOMO, Duke of Genoa. MENDOZA, a minion to the Duchess of Pietro Jacomo. CELSO, a friend to Altofronto. BILIOSO, an old choleric marshal. PREPASSO, a gentleman-usher. FERNEZE, a young courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess. FERRARDO, a minion to Duke Pietro Jacomo. EQUATO, } GUERRINO, } two courtiers. PASSARELLO, fool to Biliosa.

AURELIA, Duchess to Duke Pietro Jacomo. MARIA, Duchess to Duke Altofronto. EMILIA, } BIANCA, } two ladies attending on Aurelia. MAQUERELLE, an old panderess.

[THE SCENE.—_Genoa._]

TO THE READER

I am an ill orator; and, in truth, use to indite more honestly than eloquently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I speak.

In plainness, therefore, understand that in some things I have willingly erred, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names different from that city’s families: for which some may wittily accuse me: but my defence shall be as honest as many reproofs unto me have been most malicious; since, I heartily protest, it was my care to write so far from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I laid my scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or living. Yet, in despite of my endeavours, I understand some have been most unadvisedly over-cunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtlety as deep as hell have maliciously spread ill rumours, which, springing from themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I desire to satisfy every firm spirit, who, in all his actions, proposeth to himself no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are always simple: to such I protest that, with my free understanding, I have not glanced at disgrace of any, but of those whose unquiet studies labour innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend, comely superiority, and establisht unity: for the rest of my supposed tartness, I fear not but unto every worthy mind it will be approved so general and honest as may modestly pass with the freedom of a satire. I would fain leave the paper; only one thing afflicts me, to think that scenes, invented merely to be spoken, should be enforcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive is to do myself the wrong. But, since others otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. I have myself, therefore, set forth this comedy; but so, that my enforced absence must much rely upon the printer’s discretion: but I shall entreat slight errors in orthography may be as slightly over-passed, and that the unhandsome shape which this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned for the pleasure it once afforded you when it was presented with the soul of lively action.

_Sine aliqua dementia nullus Phoebus._[2610]

[THE INDUCTION[2611]

TO

THE MALCONTENT, AND THE ADDITIONS[2612] ACTED BY THE KING’S MAJESTY’S SERVANTS.

WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER

_Enter_ W. SLY, _a_ Tire-man _following him with a stool._

_Tire-man._ Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit here.

_Sly._ Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private house. Thou dost not take me for a country gentleman, dost? Dost think I fear 5 hissing? I’ll hold my life thou tookest me for one of the players.

_Tire-man._ No, sir.

_Sly._ By God’s slid,[2613] if you had, I would have given you but sixpence for your stool. Let (10) them that have stale suits sit in the galleries. Hiss at me! He that will be laught out of a tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed well, or be drunk in good company.—Where’s Harry Condell, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly? 15 Let me speak with some of them.

_Tire-man._ An’t please you to go in, sir, you may.

_Sly._ I tell you, no: I am one that hath seen this play often, and can give them intelligence (20) for their action. I have most of the jests here in my table-book.[2614]

_Enter_ SINKLO.

_Sinklo._ Save you coz!

_Sly._ O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs here. 25

_Sinklo._ No, indeed, cousin: the audience then will take me for a viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me.

_Sly._ Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz.

_Sinklo._ We stayed for you at supper last (30) night at my cousin Honeymoon’s, the woollen-draper. After supper we drew cuts for a score of apricocks, the longest cut still to draw an apricock: by this light, ’t was Mistress Frank Honeymoon’s fortune still to have the longest (35) cut: I did measure for the women.—What be these, coz?

_Enter_ D. BURBADGE, H. CONDELL, _and_ J. LOWIN.

_Sly._ The players.—God save you!

_Burbadge._ You are very welcome.

_Sly._ I pray you, know this gentleman, my (40) cousin; ’t is Master Doomsday’s son, the usurer.

_Condell._ I beseech you, sir, be cover’d.

_Sly._ No, in good faith, for mine ease. Look you, my hat’s the handle to this fan. God’s (45) so, what a beast was I, I did not leave my feather at home! Well, but I’ll take an order with you. _Puts his feather in his pocket._

_Burbadge._ Why do you conceal your feather, sir? 50

_Sly._ Why, do you think I’ll have jests broken upon me in the play, to be laught at? This play hath beaten all your gallants out of the feathers. Blackfriars hath almost spoiled Blackfriars for feathers.[2615] 55

_Sinklo._ God’s so, I thought ’t was for somewhat our gentlewomen at home counsell’d me to wear my feather to the play: yet I am loth to spoil it.

_Sly._ Why, coz? 60

_Sinklo._ Because I got it in the tilt-yard; there was a herald broke my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up and down the Strand, and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it. 65

_Sly._ Do you hear, sir? this play is a bitter play.

_Condell._ Why, sir, ’t is neither satire nor moral, but the mean passage of a history: yet there are a sort of discontented creatures that (70) bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest the doings of any man to their base, malicious applyment;[2616] but should their interpretation come to the test, like your marmoset, they presently turn their teeth to their tail (75) and eat it.

_Sly._ I will not go so far with you; but I say, any man that hath wit may censure,[2617] if he sit in the twelve-penny room;[2618] and I say again, the play is bitter. 80

_Burbadge._ Sir, you are like a patron that, presenting a poor scholar to a benefice, enjoins him not to rail against anything that stands within compass of his patron’s folly. Why should not we enjoy the ancient freedom of poesy? (85) Shall we protest to the ladies that their painting makes them angels? or to my young gallant that his expense in the brothel shall gain him reputation? No, sir, such vices as stand not accountable to law should be cured as (90) men heal tetters,[2619] by casting ink upon them. Would you be satisfied in anything else, sir?

_Sly._ Ay, marry, would I: I would know how you came by this play?

_Condell._ Faith, sir, the book was lost; and (95) because ’t was pity so good a play should be lost, we found it, and play it.

_Sly._ I wonder you would play it, another company having interest in it.

_Condell._ Why not Malevole in folio with (100) us, as Jeronimo in decimo-sexto with them?[2620] They taught us a name for our play; we call it _One For Another_.

_Sly._ What are your additions?

_Burbadge._ Sooth, not greatly needful; only (105) as your salad to your great feast, to entertain a little more time, and to abridge the not-received custom of music in our theatre. I must leave you, sir. _Exit._

_Sinklo._ Doth he play the Malcontent? 110

_Condell._ Yes, sir.

_Sinklo._ I durst lay four of mine ears the play is not so well acted as it hath been.

_Condell._ O, no, sir, nothing _ad Parmenonis suem_.[2621] 115

_Lowin._ Have you lost your ears, sir, that you are so prodigal of laying them?

_Sinklo._ Why did you ask that, friend?

_Lowin._ Marry, sir, because I have heard of a fellow would offer to lay a hundred-pound (120) wager, that was not worth five baubees:[2622] and in this kind you might venture four of your elbows; yet God defend[2623] your coat should have so many!

_Sinklo._ Nay, truly, I am no great censurer;[2624] (125) and yet I might have been one of the college of critics once. My cousin here hath an excellent memory, indeed, sir.

_Sly._ Who? I? I’ll tell you a strange thing of myself; and I can tell you, for one that (130) never studied the art of memory, ’t is very strange too.

_Condell._ What’s that, sir?

_Sly._ Why, I’ll lay a hundred pound, I’ll walk but once down by the Goldsmith’s (135) Row in Cheap, take notice of the signs, and tell you them with a breath instantly.

_Lowin._ ’T is very strange.

_Sly._ They begin as the world did, with Adam and Eve. There’s in all just five and fifty. (140) I do use to meditate much when I come to plays too. What do you think might come into a man’s head now, seeing all this company?

_Condell._ I know not, sir.

_Sly._ I have an excellent thought. If some (145) fifty of the Grecians that were cramm’d in the horse’ belly had eaten garlic, do you not think the Trojans might have smelt out their knavery?

_Condell._ Very likely.

_Sly._ By God, I would [they] had, for I (150) love Hector horribly.

_Sinklo._ O, but, coz, coz! “Great Alexander, when he came to the tomb of Achilles, Spake with a big loud voice, O thou thrice blessed and happy!”[2625]

_Sly._ Alexander was an ass to speak so well (155) of a filthy cullion.[2626]

_Lowin._ Good sir, will you leave the stage? I’ll help you to a private room.

_Sly._ Come, coz, let’s take some tobacco.— Have you never a prologue? 160

_Lowin._ Not any, sir.

_Sly._ Let me see, I will make one extempore. _Come to them, and fencing of a congee[2627] with arms and legs, be round with them._ Gentlemen, I could wish for the women’s sakes you had all soft cushions; and gentlewomen, I could wish that for the men’s sakes you (165) had all more easy standings. What would they wish more but the play now? and that they shall have instantly. [_Exeunt._]]