SCENE V.

_A Room in_ PRIMERO’S _House_.

_Enter_ PURSENET (_his arm in a scarf_) _and Boy, meeting First Courtesan_.

PUR. See that dissembling devil, that perjur’d strumpet! [_Aside._ FIRST C. Welcome, my soul’s best wish. O, out, alas! Thy arm bound in a scarf? I shall swoon instantly. PUR. Heart, and I’ll fetch you again in the same tune. [_Aside._

O my unmatch’d love, if any spark of life remain, Look up, my comfort, my delight, my—— FIRST C. O good, O good! PUR. The organ of her voice is tun’d again; There’s hope in women when their speech returns; See, like the moon after a black eclipse, She by degrees recovers her pure light. How cheers my love? FIRST C. As one new-wak’d out of a deadly trance, The fit scarce quiet. PUR. ’Twas terrible for the time; I’d much ado to fetch you. FIRST C. ’Shrew your fingers! [_Aside._ How came my comfort wounded? speak. PUR. Faith, in a fray last night. FIRST C. In a fray? will you lose your blood so vainly? Many a poor creature lacks it. Tell me how? What was the quarrel? PUR. Loath to tell you that. FIRST C. Loath to tell me? PUR. Yet ’twas my cause of coming. FIRST C. Why, then, must not I know it? PUR. Since you urge it, you shall, You’re a strumpet! FIRST C. O, news abroad, sir! PUR. Say you so? FIRST C. Why, you knew that the first night you lay with me. PUR. Nay, not to me only, but to the world. FIRST C. Speak within compass, man. PUR. Faith, you know none, you sail without. FIRST C. I have the better skill then. PUR. At my first step into a tavern-room, to spy That chain of pearl wound on a stranger’s arm You begg’d of me! FIRST C. How? you mistook it sure. PUR. By heaven, the very self-same chain! FIRST C. O, cry you mercy, ’tis true, I’d forgot it: ’tis St. George’s day to-morrow: I lent it to my cousin only to grace his arm before his mistress. PUR. Notable cunning! FIRST C. And is this all now, i’faith? PUR. Not; I durst go further. FIRST C. Why, let me never possess your love if you see not that again a’ Thursday morning: I take’t unkindly, i’faith, you should fall out with me for such a trifle. PUR. Better and better! FIRST C. Come, a kiss, and friends! PUR. Away! FIRST C. By this hand, I’ll spoil your arm and[611] you will not.

PUR. More for this than the devil——

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE, TAILBY, FITSGRAVE, BUNGLER, _and Courtesans_.

GOL. Yea, at your book so hard?[612] PUR. Against my will.—Are you there, signior Logic? A pox of you, sir! [_Aside._ GOL. Why, how now? what has fate sent us here, in the name of Venus, goddess of Cyprus? PUR. A freebooter’s pink, sir, three or four inches deep. GOL. No more? that’s conscionable, i’faith. TAI. Troth, I’m sorry for’t: pray, how came it, sir? PUR. Faith, by a paltry fray, in Coleman Street. FIT. Combe Park he would say. [_Aside._ PUR. No less than three at once, sir, Made a triangle with their swords and daggers, And all opposing me. FIT. And amongst those three only one hurt you, sir? PUR. Ex for ex.[613] TAI. Troth, and I’ll tell you what luck I had too, since I parted from you last. PUR. What, I pray? TAI. The day you offered to ride with me, I wish now I’d had your company: ’sfoot, I was set upon in Combe Park by three too. PUR. Bah! TAI. Robbed, by this light, of as much gold and jewels as I valued at forty pound. PUR. Sure Saturn is in the fifth house. TAI. I know not that; he may be in the sixth and[614] he will for me: I am sure they were in my pocket wheresoever they are;[615] but I’ll ne’er refuse a gentleman’s company again when ’tis offered me, I warrant you. GOL. I must remember you ’tis Mitre-night,[616] ladies. SEC. C. Mass, ’tis indeed Friday to-day, I’d quite forgot: when a woman’s busy, how the time runs away! FIRST C. O, you’ve betrayed us both! TAI. I understand you not. FIRST C. You’ve let him see the chain of pearl I gave you. TAI. Who? him? will you believe me, by this hand, He never saw it. FIRST C. Upon a stranger’s arm he swore to me. TAI. Mass, that may be; for the truth is, i’faith, I was robb’d on’t at Combe Park. FIRST. C. ’Twas that betrayed it. TAI. I would [I] had stay’d him; He was no stranger, he was a thief, i’faith, For thieves will be no strangers. FIRST C. How shall I excuse it? BUN. Nay, I have you fast enough, boy; you rogue! [_Seizing the Boy, who had attempted to pick his pocket._ BOY. Good sir, I beseech you, sir, let me go! [_Struggling._[617] BUN. A pickpocket? nay, you shall to Newgate, look you.— Is this your boy, sir? PUR. How now, boy? a monster? thy arm lined[618] fast in another’s pocket? where learnt you that manners? what company have you kept a’ late, that you are so transformed into a rogue? that shape I know not.— Believe me, sir, I much wonder at the alteration of this boy, where he should get this nature: as good a child to see to, and as virtuous; he has his creed by heart, reads me his chapter duly every night; he will not miss you one tittle in the nine commandments. BUN. There’s ten of ’em. PUR. I fear he skips o’er one, Thou shall not steal. BUN. Mass, like enough. PUR. Else grace and memory would quite abash the boy.— Thou graceless imp! ah, thou prodigious child, Begot at some eclipse, degenerate rogue, Shame to thy friends, and to thy master eke! How far digressing from the noble mind Of thy brave ancestors, that lie in marble With their coat-armours o’er ’em! BUN. Had he such friends? PUR. The boy is well descended, though he be a rogue, and has no feeling on’t; yet for my sake, and for my reputation’s, seek not the blood of the boy; he’s near allied to many men of worship now yet living; a fine old man to his father; it would kill his heart, i’faith; he’d away like a chrisom.[619] BUN. Alas, good gentleman! PUR. Ah, shameless villain, complain’st thou? dost thou want? BOY. No, no, no, no! PUR. Art not well clad? thy hunger well resisted? BOY. Yes, yes, yes, yes! PUR. But thou shalt straight to Bridewell—— BOY. Sweet master! PUR. Live upon bread and water and chap-choke. BOY. I beseech your worship! BUN. Come, I’ll be his surety for once. PUR. You shall excuse me indeed, sir. BUN. He will mend; ’a may prove an honest man for all this. I know gallant gentlemen now that have done as much as this comes to in their youth. PUR. Say you so, sir? BUN. And as for Bridewell, that will but make him worse; ’a will learn more knavery there in one week than will furnish him and his heirs for a hundred year. PUR. Deliver the boy! BUN. Nay, I tell you true, sir; there’s none goes in there a quean, but she comes out an arrant whore, I warrant you. PUR. The boy comes not there for a million! BUN. No, you had better forgive him by ten parts. PUR. True; but ’a must not know it comes from me.— Down a’ your knees, you rogue, And thank this gentleman has got your pardon. BOY. O, I thank your worship! PUR. A pox on you for a rogue; You put me to my set speech once a quarter. [_Aside to him._ GOL. Nay, gentlemen, you quite forget your hour; Lead, master Bouser. [_Exeunt all but_ GOLDSTONE _and Second Courtesan_. SEC. C. Let me go: you’re a dissembler. GOL. How? SEC. C. Did not you promise me a new gown? GOL. Did I not? yes, faith, did I, and thou shalt have it.—Go, sirrah, [_calling to one off the stage_] run for a tailor presently. Let me see for the colour now: orange-tawney, peach colour—what sayst to a watchet[620] satin?

_Enter Tailor._

SEC. C. O, ’tis the only colour I affect! TAI. A very orient colour, an’t please your worships. I made a gown on’t for a gentlewoman t’other day, and it does passing well upon her. GOL. A watchet satin gown—— TAI. There your worship left, sir. GOL. Laid about, tailor—— TAI. Very good, sir. GOL. With four fair laces. TAI. That will be costly, sir. GOL. How, you rogue, costly? out a’ th’ house, you slipshod, sham-legged, brown-thread-penny-skeined rascal! SEC. C. Nay, my sweet love—— [_Exit Tailor._ GOL. Hang him, rogue! he’s but a botcher neither: come, I’ll send thee a fellow worth a hundred of this, if the slave were clean enough. [_Exeunt._