SCENE II.

_Before_ HAREBRAIN’S _House_.

_Enter_ HAREBRAIN.

HAR. She may make night-work on’t; ’twas well recover’d;[739] He-cats and courtesans stroll most i’ th’ night: Her friend may be receiv’d and convey’d forth nightly; I’ll be at charge For watch and ward, for watch and ward, i’faith; And here they come.

_Enter Watchmen._ FIRST W. Give your worship good even. HAR. Welcome, my friends; I must deserve your diligence In an employment serious. The troth is, There’s[740] a cunning plot laid, but happily discover’d, To rob my house; the night uncertain when, But fix’d within the circle of this month; Nor does this villany consist in numbers, Or many partners; only some one Shall, in the form of my familiar friend, Be receiv’d privately into my house By some perfidious servant of mine own, Address’d fit for the practice. FIRST W. O abominable! HAR. If you be faithful watchmen, shew your goodness, And with these angels[741] shore up your eyelids: [_Giving money._

Let me not be purloin’d—purloin’d indeed! The merry Greeks conceive me—there’s[742] a gem I would not lose, Kept by th’ Italian under lock and key: We Englishmen are careless creatures: well, I have said enough. SEC. W. And we will do enough, sir. HAR. Why, well said; watch me a good turn now; so, so, so. [_Exeunt Watchmen._ Rise villany with the lark, why, ’tis prevented; Or steal’t by with the leather-winged bat,[743] The evening cannot save it—peace—

_Enter Courtesan._

O, lady Gullman, my wife’s only company, welcome! and how does the virtuous matron, that good old gentlewoman, thy mother? I persuade myself, if modesty be in the world, she has part on’t; a woman of an excellent carriage all her lifetime, in court, city, and country. COUR. Sh’as always carried it well in those places, sir;—witness three bastards a-piece. [_Aside_]—How does your sweet bed-fellow, sir? you see I’m her boldest visitant. HAR. And welcome, sweet virgin; the only companion my soul wishes for her. I left her within at her lute; prithee, give her good counsel. COUR. Alas, she needs none, sir! HAR. Yet, yet, yet, a little of thy instructions will not come amiss to her. COUR. I’ll bestow my labour, sir. HAR. Do, labour her, prithee. I have conveyed away all her wanton pamphlets; as _Hero and Leander_, _Venus and Adonis_;[744] O, two luscious marrow-bone pies for a young married wife! Here, here, prithee, take the _Resolution_,[745] and read to her a little. [_Gives book._ COUR. Sh’as set up her resolution already, sir. HAR. True, true, and this will confirm it the more: there’s a chapter of hell; ’tis good to read this cold weather: terrify her, terrify her. Go, read to her the horrible punishments for itching wantonness, the pains allotted for adultery; tell her her thoughts, her very dreams are answerable, say so; rip up the life of a courtesan, and shew how loathsome ’tis. COUR. The gentleman would persuade me in time to disgrace myself, and speak ill of mine own function. [_Aside and exit._ HAR. This is the course I take; I’ll teach the married man A new-selected strain. I admit none But this pure virgin to her company: Pooh, that’s enough; I’ll keep her to her stint, I’ll put her to her pension; She gets but her allowance, that’s [a] bare one: Few women but have that beside their own: Ha, ha, ha! nay, I will[746] put her hard to’t.

_Enter_ MISTRESS HAREBRAIN _and Courtesan_.

MIS. H. Fain would I meet the gentleman. COUR. Push,[747] fain would you meet him! why, you do not take the course. HAR. How earnestly she labours her, Like a good wholesome sister of the Family![748] She will prevail, I hope. [_Aside._ COUR. Is that the means? MIS. H. What is the means? I would as gladly, to enjoy his sight, Embrace it as the—— COUR. Shall I have hearing? listen. HAR. She’s round with her, i’faith.[749] [_Aside._ COUR. When husbands in their rank’st suspicions dwell, Then ’tis our best art to dissemble well: Put but these notes in use that I’ll direct you, He’ll curse himself that e’er he did suspect you. Perhaps he will solicit you, as in trial, To visit such and such; still give denial: Let no persuasions sway you; they’re[750] but fetches Set to betray you, jealousies, slights,[751] and reaches. Seem in his sight t’ endure the sight of no man; Put by all kisses, till you kiss in common: Neglect all entertain; if he bring in Strangers, keep you your chamber, be not seen. If he chance steal upon you, let him find Some book lie open ’gainst an unchaste mind, And coted[752] Scriptures; though for your own pleasure You read some stirring pamphlet, and convey it Under your skirt, the fittest place to lay it. This is the course, my wench, t’ enjoy thy wishes; Here you perform best when you most neglect: The way to daunt is to outvie suspect. Manage these principles but with art and life, Welcome all nations, thou’rt an honest wife. HAR. She puts it home, i’faith, even to the quick: From her elaborate action I reach that. I must requite this maid; faith, I’m forgetful. [_Aside._ MIS. H. Here, lady, Convey my heart unto him in this jewel. Against you see me next, you shall perceive I’ve[753] profited; in the mean season tell him I am a prisoner yet a’ th’ Master’s side,[754] My husband’s jealousy, That masters him, as he doth master me; And as a keeper that locks prisoners up Is himself prison’d under his own key, Even so my husband, in restraining me, With the same ward bars his own liberty. COUR. I’ll tell him how you wish it, and I’ll wear My wits to the third pile[755] but all shall clear. MIS. H. I owe you more than thanks, but that I hope My husband will requite you. COUR. Think you so, lady? he has small reason for’t. HAR. What, done so soon? away, to’t again, to’t again, good wench, to’t again; leave her not so: where left you? come. COUR. Faith, I am weary, sir. I cannot draw her from her strict opinion With all the arguments that sense can frame. HAR. No? let me come.—Fie, wife, you must consent.—What opinion is’t? let’s hear. COUR. Fondly[756] and wilfully she retains that thought, That every sin is damn’d. HAR. O, fie, fie, wife! pea, pea, pea, pea, how have you lost your time! for shame, be converted. There’s a diabolical opinion indeed! then you may think that usury were damned; you’re a fine merchant, i’faith! or bribery; you know the law well! or sloth; would some of the clergy heard you, i’faith! or pride; you come at court! or gluttony; you’re not worthy to dine at an alderman’s table! Your only deadly sin’s adultery, That villanous ringworm, woman’s worst requital; ’Tis only lechery that’s damn’d to th’ pit-hole: Ah, that’s an arch offence, believe it, squal! All sins are venial but venereal. COUR. I’ve said enough to her. HAR. And she will be rul’d by you. COUR. Faugh! HAR. I’ll pawn my credit on’t. Come hither, lady, I will not altogether rest ingrateful; Here, wear this ruby for thy pains and counsel. COUR. It is not so much worth, sir; I am a very ill counsellor, truly. HAR. Go to, I say. COUR. You’re to blame, i’faith, sir; I shall ne’er deserve it. HAR. Thou hast done’t already: farewell, sweet virgin; prithee, let’s see thee oftener. COUR. Such gifts will soon entreat me. [_Aside, and exit._ HAR. Wife, as thou lov’st the quiet of my breast, Embrace her counsel, yield to her advices: Thou wilt find comfort in ’em in the end; Thou’lt feel an alteration: prithee, think on’t: Mine eyes can scarce refrain. MIS. H. Keep in your dew, sir, Lest when you would, you want it. HAR. I’ve pawn’d my credit on’t: ah, didst thou know The sweet fruit once, thou’dst never let it go! MIS. H. ’Tis that I strive to get. HAR. And still do so. [_Exeunt._