SCENE V.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT, _and the Courtesan striving from him_.

FOL. What, so coy, so strict? come, come! COUR. Pray, change your opinion, sir; I am not for that use. FOL. Will you but hear me? COUR. I shall hear that I would not. [_Exit._ FOL. ’S foot, this is strange! I’ve seldom seen a wench Stand upon stricter points: life, she will not Endure to be courted! does she e’er think to prosper? I’ll ne’er believe that tree can bring forth fruit That never bears a blossom; courtship’s a blossom, And often brings forth fruit in forty weeks. ’Twere a mad part in me now to turn over: If e’er[871] there were any hope on’t, ’tis at this instant. Shall I be madder now than e’er I’ve[872] been? I’m in the way, i’faith. Man’s never at high height of madness full Until he love, and prove a woman’s gull. I do protest in earnest, I ne’er knew At which end to begin t’ affect a woman Till this bewitching minute; I ne’er saw Face worth my object till mine eye met hers; I should laugh and[873] I were caught, i’faith: I’ll see her again, that’s certain, whate’er comes on’t, by your favour, ladies.[874]

_Enter Mother._

MOT. You’re welcome, sir. FOL. Know you the young gentlewoman that went in lately? MOT. I have best cause to know her; I’m her mother, sir. FOL. O, in good time. I like the gentlewoman well; a pretty contrived beauty. MOT. Ay, nature has done her part, sir. FOL. But she has one uncomely quality. MOT. What’s that, sir? FOL. ’S foot, she’s afraid of a man. MOT. Alas! impute that to her bashful spirit, She’s fearful of her honour. FOL. Of her honour? ’slid, I’m sure I cannot get Her maidenhead with breathing upon her, Nor can she lose her honour in her tongue. MOT. True; and I have often told her so; but what would you have of a foolish virgin, sir, a wilful virgin? I tell you, sir, I need not have been in that solitary estate that I am, had she had grace and boldness to have put herself forward; always timorsome, always backward! Ah, that same peevish[875] honour of hers has undone her and me both, good gentleman! the suitors, the jewels, the jointures, that have[876] been offered her! we had been made women[877] for ever: but what was her fashion? she could not endure the sight of a man, forsooth, but run and hole[878] herself presently. So choice of her honour, I am persuaded, whene’er she has husband, She’ll[879] e’en be a precedent for all married wives How to direct their actions and their lives. FOL. Have you not so much power with her to command her presence? MOT. You shall see straight what I can do, sir. [_Exit._ FOL. Would I might be hanged, if my love do not stretch to her deeper and deeper! Those bashful maiden humours take me prisoner. When there comes a restraint upon[880] flesh, we are always most greedy upon’t; and that makes your merchant’s wife oftentimes pay so dear for a mouthful. Give me a woman as she was made at first; simple of herself, without sophistication, like this wench: I cannot abide them when they have tricks, set speeches, and artful entertainments. You shall have some so impudently aspècted, They will outcry the forehead of a man, Make him blush first, and talk him into silence; And this is counted manly in a woman: It may hold so; sure, womanly it is not. No; If e’er I love, or any thing move me, ’Twill be a woman’s simple modesty.

_Re-enter Mother, bringing in strivingly the Courtesan._

COUR. Pray, let me go; why, mother, what do you mean? I beseech you, mother! is this your conquest now? Great glory ’tis to overcome a poor And silly virgin. FOL. The wonder of our time sits in that brow: I ne’er beheld a perfect maid[881] till now. MOT. Thou childish thing, more bashful than thou’rt wise, Why dost thou turn aside, and drown thine eyes? Look, fearful fool, there’s no temptation near thee; Art not asham’d that any flesh should fear thee?[882] Why, I durst pawn my life the gentleman Means no other but honest and pure love to thee.— How say you, sir? FOL. By my faith, not I, lady. MOT. Hark you there? what think You now, forsooth? what grieves your honour now? Or what lascivious breath intends to rear Against that maiden organ, your chaste ear? Are you resolv’d[883] now better of men’s hearts, Their faiths, and their affections? With you none, Or at most few, whose tongues and minds are one. Repent you now of your opinion past; Men love as purely as you can be chaste.— To her yourself, sir; the way’s broke before you; You have the easier passage. FOL. Fear not. Come, Erect thy happy graces in thy look; I am no curious wooer,[884] but, in faith, I love thee honourably. COUR. How mean you that, sir? FOL. ’S foot, as one loves a woman for a wife. MOT. Has the gentleman answered you, trow?[885] FOL. I do confess it truly to you both, My estate is yet but sickly; but I’ve a grandsire Will make me lord of thousands at his death. MOT. I know your grandsire well; she knows him better. FOL. Why, then, you know no fiction: my state then Will be a long day’s journey ’bove the waste, wench. MOT. Nay, daughter, he says true. FOL. And thou shalt often measure it in thy coach, And with the wheels’ track make a girdle for’t. MOT. Ah, ’twill be a merry journey! FOL. What, is’t a match? if’t be, clap hands and lips. [_Kisses Courtesan._ MOT. ’Tis done; there’s witness on’t. FOL. Why, then, mother, I salute you. [_Kisses Mother._ MOT. Thanks, sweet son. Son Follywit, come hither; if I might counsel thee, We’ll take her e’en[886] while the good mood’s upon her; Send for a priest, and clap’t up within this hour. FOL. By my troth, agreed, mother. MOT. Nor does her wealth consist all in her flesh, Though beauty be enough wealth for a woman; She brings a dowry of three hundred[887] with her. FOL. ’S foot, that will serve [un]til my grandsire dies: I warrant you he’ll drop away at fall a’ th’ leaf; If e’er[888] he reach to All Hollantide,[889] I’ll be hang’d. MOT. O yes, son, he’s a lusty old gentleman. FOL. Ah, pox, he’s given to women! he keeps a quean at this present. MOT. Fie! FOL. Do not tell my wife on’t. MOT. That were needless, i’faith. FOL. He makes a great feast upon the eleventh of this month, Tuesday next, and you shall see players there—I have one trick more to put upon him. [_Aside._]—My wife and yourself shall go thither before as my guests, and prove his entertainment: I’ll meet you there at night. The jest will be here; that feast which he makes will, unknown to him, serve fitly for our wedding-dinner: we shall be royally furnished, and get some charges by’t. MOT. An excellent course, i’faith, and a thrifty! why, son, Methinks you begin to thrive before you’re married. FOL. We shall thrive one day, wench, and clip[890] enough: Between our hopes there’s but a grandsire’s puff. [_Exit._ MOT. So, girl, here was a bird well caught. COUR. If ever, here: But what for’s grandsire, ’twill scarce please him well. MOT. Who covets fruit, ne’er cares from whence it fell: Thou’st wedded youth and strength; and wealth will fall: Last, thou’rt made honest. COUR. And that’s worth ’em all. [_Exeunt._