SCENE III.

_A Room in_ GLISTER’S _House_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS GLISTER _and_ MARIA.

MAR. Good aunt, quiet yourself: ground not upon dreams; you know they are ever contrary. MIS. G. Minion, minion, coin no excuses: I grant dreams are deceitful, but a true judgment grounded upon knowledge never fails. What? have not I observed the rising and falling of the blood, the coming and going of the countenance, your qualms, your unlacings, your longings? most evident tokens; besides, a more certain sign than all these, too; you know’t, I need not speak it: nay, I am as skilful in that point as my husband; I can tell you, Aristotle speaks English enough to tell me these secrets. Body of me, so narrowly looked to, and yet fly out! Well, I see maids will ha’t in spite of laws or locks that restrain ’em; they will open, do men what they can. MAR. I see my fault appears: simplicity Hath no evasion; ’tis bootless to deny Where guilty blood, cited by touch of shame, Runs through my veins, and leaves my conscience’ stain Even in my face. Forbear, I do beseech you, To publish my defame: what I have done You shall not answer; I must bear mine own. MIS. G. Bear your own? ay, marry, there it goes! What must you bear? MAR. My sins, forsooth. MIS. G. Your sins, forsooth? Confess to me, and go not about the bush: you have been doing, that’s flat; you have caught a clap, that’s round; and answer me roundly to the point, or else I’ll square.[346] Come, whose act is’t? I cannot devise unless it be my husband’s, for none else had access to thee: I am sure time has turned his bald side to thee, and I do but wonder how thou tookst opportunity: speak, tell me. MAR. Now, good aunt, press me not; let time reveal What you suspect; for never shall my tongue Confess an act that tends unto my wrong.

_Enter_ GERARDINE, _disguised as a porter_.

MIS. G. Will you not bolt? I must ha’t out on you, and will. GER. By your leave, mistress—— MIS. G. Passion of my heart, what art thou? GER. No ghost, forsooth, though I appear in white. MIS. G. No, but a saucy knave, I perceive by your manners. GER. None of that livery neither: I am of the bearing trade, forsooth; you may see by my smock,—frock, I would say: I am, if it please you, of the spick and span new-set-up company of porters. Here’s my breastplate; and besides our own arms, we have the arms of the city to help us in our burdens—_ecce signum!_ here’s the cross and the sword of justice in good pewter, I can tell you, which goes as current with us as better metal. MIS. G. What’s your name, sir? GER. Nicholas Nebulo: there’s but a straw’s-breadth between that and the arms; ’tis in the backside of the cross here, and well known in the city for an ancient name and an honest, an’t like your worship. MIS. G.[347] You are none of the twelve, are you? GER. No, forsooth, but one of the twenty-four—— MIS. G. Orders of knaves:[348] I thought so. Sirrah, you’re a rascal, to come thus bluntly into my house with your dirty startups:[349] get you without doors, like a filthy fellow as you are; a place more fit for you. GER. O, good words, mistress! I may be warden of my company for aught you know; and for my bluntness, we have a clause in our charter to warrant that; for as we bear, so likewise we may be borne with, and have free egress and regress where our business lies. MIS. G. And what’s your business here? GER. I have a letter, an’t please you, to master doctor. MIS. G. From whence? [_Taking the letter._ GER. That I cannot shew your worship; but I had it of Curtal the carrier, whose lawful deputy I am. MIS. G. Leave your scraping, sirrah. Fie, how rank the knave smells of grease and taps-droppings! [GERARDINE _coughs and spits_.] What, are you rheumatic too, with a vengeance! GER. Yes, indeed, mistress; though I be but a poor man, I have a spice of the gentleman in me: master doctor could smell it quickly, because he’s a gentleman himself: I must to the diet, and that is tobacco at the ale-house; I use n’other physic for it. MIS. G. Did ever such a peasant defile my floor, or breathe so near me!—I’faith, sirrah, you would be bummed for your roguery, if you were well served. GER. I am bummed well enough already, mistress; look here else: sir-reverence[350] in your worship, master doctor’s lips are not made of better stuff. MIS. G. What an impudent rogue is this!—Sirrah, begone, I say; I would be rid o’ you. GER. Be rid o’ me? I shall gallop then: you mistake me, forsooth; I am a foot post, I do not use to ride. MIS. G. I think the rascal be humorous or drunk. Well, I will read the letter, and send him packing, or else he will spew or do worse before me: fie on him, I think he will infect me with some filthy disease. [_Reads the letter._ GER. Or else I lose mine aim. [_Aside._ MIS. G. What’s here? [_Reads_] _Your poor nurse, Thomasine Tweedles!_[351] for my life now shall I find out my husband’s knavery I have so long suspected. GER. She begins to nibble; ’twill take, i’faith. [_Aside._ Mistress, I see some discontentment in your looks: Care ill befits so delicate a spirit; Be frolic, wench, for he that is so near thee Has been much nearer. MAR. That accent sounds sweet music; ’tis my love! That tongue breathes life into my lifeless spirits: Gerardine? O rapture! why thus disguis’d? GER. No more, be mute; thus must I vary forms To bring our cares to end: her jealousy Ensues this drift, which, if it take true scope, Love’s joy comes next: be fearless in that hope. MIS. G. ’Tis so: rats-bane! I ha’t: it racks on, it torments me! here ’tis: [_reads_] _Woe worth the time that ever I gave suck to a child that came in at the window, God knows how!_—Villanous lecher!—_yet, if you did but see how like the pert[352] little red-headed knave is to his father_—damnable doctor! a bastard in the country, and another towards[353] here! I am out of doubt this is his work.—You are an arrant strumpet!— Incest, fornication, abomination in my own house! intolerable! O for long nails to scratch out his eyes! GER. Or the breeches, to fight with him. MIS. G. Out of my sight, quean! thou shalt to Bridewell.—O, I shall be mad with rage! GER. Then you shall go to Bedlam. MIS. G. Hence, you slave! GER. I must have a penny; you must pay me for my pains. MIS. G. The devil pay thee! GER. O, that’s the doctor; but he wants his horns. MIS. G. But I’ll furnish him ere long, if I live. GER. It works as I would wish. [_Aside._]—Farewell, Maria; This storm once past, fair weather ever after! [_Exit._ MIS. G. Was ever woman so moved!—but you shall be talked withal: and for mine old fornicator, he shall ha’t as hot as coals, i’faith: here’s stuff indeed! Come, minx, come: there’s law for you both: have I found your knavery? If I wink at this, let me be stone blind, or stoned to death: bear this, and bear all! [_Exeunt._