SCENE II.

_A Room in_ LUCRE’S _House_.

_Enter_ LUCRE, _Gentlemen_, _and Host_, _meeting_ FREEDOM.

LUC. My son-in-law, Sam Freedom, where’s my nephew? FREE. _O man in lamentation_,[105] father. LUC. How! FREE. He thumps his breast like a gallant dicer that has lost his doublet, and stands in’s shirt to do penance. LUC. Alas, poor gentleman! FREE. I warrant you may hear him sigh in a still evening to your house at Highgate. LUC. I prithee, send him in. FREE. Were it to do a greater matter, I will not stick with you, sir, in regard you married my mother. [_Exit._ LUC. Sweet gentlemen, cheer him up; I will but fetch the mortgage and return to you instantly. FIRST G. We’ll do our best, sir. [_Exit Lucre._]— See where he comes, E’en joyless and regardless of all form.

_Enter_ WITGOOD.

SEC. G. Why, how now,[106] master Witgood? Fie! you a firm scholar, and an understanding gentleman, and give your best parts to passion?[107] FIRST G. Come, fie, fie![108] WIT. O, gentlemen—— FIRST G. Sorrow of me, what a sigh was there, sir! Nine such widows are not worth it. WIT. To be borne from me by that lecher Hoard! FIRST G. That vengeance is your uncle’s; being done More in despite to him than wrong to you: But we bring comfort now. WIT. I beseech you, gentlemen—— SEC. G. Cheer thyself, man; there’s hope of her, i’faith. WIT. Too gladsome to be true.

_Re-enter LUCRE._

LUC. Nephew, what cheer? Alas, poor gentleman, how art thou chang’d! Call thy fresh blood into thy cheeks again: She comes. WIT. Nothing afflicts me so much, But that it is your adversary, uncle, And merely plotted in despite of you. LUC. Ay, that’s it mads me, spites me! I’ll spend my wealth ere he shall carry her so, because I know ’tis only to spite me. Ay, this is it. Here, nephew [_giving a paper_], before these kind gentlemen, I deliver in your mortgage, my promise to the widow; see, ’tis done: be wise, you’re once more master of your own. The widow shall perceive now you are not altogether such a beggar as the world reputes you; you can make shift to bring her to three hundred a-year, sir. FIRST G. Byrlady,[109] and that’s no toy,[110] sir. LUC. A word, nephew. FIRST G. [_to Host_] Now you may certify the widow. LUC. You must conceive it aright, nephew, now; To do you good I am content to do this. WIT. I know it, sir. LUC. But your own conscience can tell I had it Dearly enough of you. WIT. Ay, that’s most certain. LUC. Much money laid out, beside many a journey To fetch the rent; I hope you’ll think on’t, nephew. WIT. I were worse than a beast else, i’faith. LUC. Although, to blind the widow and the world, I out of policy do’t, yet there’s a conscience, nephew. WIT. Heaven forbid else! LUC. When you are full possess’d, ’Tis nothing to return it. WIT. Alas, a thing quickly done, uncle! LUC. Well said! you know I give it you but in trust. WIT. Pray, let me understand you rightly, uncle: You give it me but in trust? LUC. No. WIT. That is, you trust me with it? LUC. True, true. WIT. But if ever I trust you with it again, Would I might be truss’d up[111] for my labour! [_Aside._

LUC. You can all witness, gentlemen; and you, sir yeoman? HOST. My life for yours, sir, now, I know my mistress’s mind so[112] well toward your nephew, let things be in preparation, and I’ll train her hither in most excellent fashion. _Exit._ LUC. A good old boy!—Wife! Jenny!

_Enter_ MISTRESS LUCRE.

MIS. L. What’s the news, sir? LUC. The wedding-day’s at hand: prithee, sweet wife, express thy housewifery; thou’rt a fine cook, I know’t; thy first husband married thee out of an alderman’s kitchen; go to, he raised thee for raising of paste. What! here’s none but friends; most of our beginnings must be winked at.—Gentlemen, I invite you all to my nephew’s wedding against Thursday morning. FIRST G. With all our hearts, and we shall joy to see Your enemy so mock’d. LUC. He laugh’d at me, gentlemen; ha, ha, ha! [_Exeunt all but_ WITGOOD. WIT. He has no conscience, faith, would laugh at them; They laugh at one another; Who then can be so cruel? troth, not I; I rather pity now, than ought envy:[113] I do conceive such joy in mine own happiness, I have no leisure yet to laugh at their follies. Thou soul of my estate, I kiss thee! [_To the mortgage._

I miss life’s comfort when I miss thee; O, never will we part agen,[114] Until I leave the sight of men! We’ll ne’er trust conscience of our kin, Since cozenage brings that title in. [_Exit._