SCENE II.

GALLIPOT’S _Shop_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS GALLIPOT _as from supper_, GALLIPOT _following her_.

GAL. What, Pru! nay, sweet Prudence! MIS. G. What a pruing keep you! I think the baby would have a teat, it kyes[1034] so. Pray, be not so fond of me, leave your city humours; I’m vexed at you, to see how like a calf you come bleating after me. GAL. Nay, honey Pru, how does your rising up before all the table shew, and flinging from my friends so uncivilly! fie, Pru, fie! come. MIS. G. Then up and ride, i’faith! GAL. Up and ride? nay, my pretty Pru, that’s far from my thought, duck: why, mouse,[1035] thy mind is nibbling at something; what is’t? what lies upon thy stomach? MIS. G. Such an ass as you: hoyda, you’re best turn midwife, or physician! you’re a ’pothecary already, but I’m none of your drugs. GAL. Thou art a sweet drug, sweetest Pru, and the more thou art pounded, the more precious. MIS. G. Must you be prying into a woman’s secrets, say ye? GAL. Woman’s secrets? MIS. G. What! I cannot have a qualm come upon me, but your teeth water[1036] till your nose hang over it! GAL. It is my love, dear wife. MIS. G. Your love? your love is all words; give me deeds: I cannot abide a man that’s too fond over me,—so cookish! Thou dost not know how to handle a woman in her kind. GAL. No, Pru? why, I hope I have handled— MIS. G. Handle a fool’s head of your own,—fie, fie! GAL. Ha, ha, ’tis such a wasp! it does me good now to have her s[t]ing me, little rogue! MIS. G. Now, fie, how you vex me! I cannot abide these apron husbands;[1037] such cotqueans![1038] you overdo your things, they become you scurvily. GAL. Upon my life she breeds: heaven knows how I have strained myself to please her night and day. I wonder why we citizens should get children so fretful and untoward in the breeding, their fathers being for the most part as gentle as milch kine. [_Aside._]—Shall I leave thee, my Pru? MIS. G. Fie, fie, fie! GAL. Thou shalt not be vexed no more, pretty, kind rogue; take no cold, sweet Pru. [_Exit._ MIS. G. As your wit has done. Now, master Laxton, shew your head; what news from you? would any husband suspect that a woman crying, _Buy any scurvy-grass_, should bring love-letters amongst her herbs to his wife? pretty trick! fine conveyance! had jealousy a thousand eyes, a silly woman with scurvy-grass blinds them all. Laxton, with bays[1039] Crown I thy wit for this, it deserves praise: This makes me affect thee more, this proves thee wise: ’Lack, what poor shift is love forc’d to devise!—

To th’ point. [_Reads letter._] _O sweet creature_—a sweet beginning!—_pardon my long absence, for thou shalt shortly be possessed with my presence: though Demophoon was false to Phyllis, I will be to thee as Pan-da-rus was to Cres-sida;[1040] though Æneas made an ass of Dido, I will die to thee ere I do so. O sweetest creature, make much of me! for no man beneath the silver moon shall make more of a woman than I do of thee: furnish me therefore with thirty pounds; you must do it of necessity for me; I languish till I see some comfort come from thee. Protesting not to die in thy debt, but rather to live, so as hitherto I have and will_, _Thy true Laxton ever_. Alas, poor gentleman! troth, I pity him. How shall I raise this money? thirty pound! ’Tis thirty sure, a 3 before an 0; I know his threes too well. My childbed linen, Shall I pawn that for him? then if my mark Be known, I am undone; it may be thought My husband’s bankrout.[1041] Which way shall I turn? Laxton, what with my own fears and thy wants, I’m like a needle ’twixt two adamants.

_Re-enter_ GALLIPOT _hastily_.

GAL. Nay, nay, wife, the women are all up—Ha! how? reading a’ letters? I smell a goose, a couple of capons, and a gammon of bacon, from her mother out of the country. I hold my life—steal, steal[1042]—— [_Aside._ MIS. G. O, beshrew your heart! GAL. What letter’s that? I’ll see’t. [MIS. G. _tears the letter_. MIS. G. O, would thou hadst no eyes to see the downfal Of me and thyself! I am for ever, For ever I’m undone! GAL. What ails my Pru? What paper’s that thou tear’st? MIS. G. Would I could tear My very heart in pieces! for my soul Lies on the rack of shame, that tortures me Beyond a woman’s suffering. GAL. What means this? MIS. G. Had you no other vengeance to throw down, But even in height of all my joys—— GAL. Dear woman—— MIS. G. When the full sea of pleasure and content Seem’d to flow over me? GAL. As thou desir’st To keep me out of Bedlam, tell what troubles thee! Is not thy child at nurse fallen sick, or dead? MIS. G. O, no! GAL. Heavens bless me! are my barns and houses Yonder at Hockley-hole consum’d with fire? I can build more, sweet Pru. MIS. G. ’Tis worse, ’tis worse! GAL. My factor broke? or is the Jonas sunk? MIS. G. Would all we had were swallow’d in the waves, Rather than both should be the scorn of slaves! GAL. I’m at my wit’s end. MIS. G. O my dear husband! Where[1043] once I thought myself a fixed star, Plac’d only in the heaven of thine arms, I fear now I shall prove a wanderer. O Laxton, Laxton! is it then my fate To be by thee o’erthrown? GAL. Defend me, wisdom, From falling into frenzy! On my knees, Sweet Pru, speak; what’s that Laxton, who so heavy Lies on thy bosom? MIS. G. I shall sure run mad! GAL. I shall run mad for company then. Speak to me; I’m Gallipot thy husband—Pru—why, Pru! Art sick in conscience for some villanous deed Thou wert about to act? didst mean to rob me? Tush, I forgive thee: hast thou on my bed Thrust my soft pillow under another’s head? I’ll wink at all faults, Pru: ’las, that’s no more, Than what some neighbours near thee have done before! Sweet honey Pru, what’s that Laxton? MIS. G. O! GAL. Out with him! MIS. G. O, he’s born to be my undoer! This hand, which thou call’st thine, to him was given, To him was I made sure[1044] i’ th’ sight of heaven. GAL. I never heard this thunder. MIS. G. Yes, yes, before I was to thee contracted, to him I swore: Since last I saw him,[1045] twelve months three times told The moon hath drawn through her light silver bow; For o’er the seas he went, and it was said, But rumour lies, that he in France was dead: But he’s alive, O he’s alive! he sent That letter to me, which in rage I rent; Swearing with oaths most damnably to have me, Or tear me from this bosom: O heavens, save me! GAL. My heart will break; sham’d and undone for ever! MIS. G. So black a day, poor wretch, went o’er thee never! GAL. If thou should’st wrestle with him at the law, Thou’rt sure to fall. No odd slight?[1046] no prevention? I’ll tell him thou’rt with child. MIS. G. Umh! GAL. Or give out One of my men was ta’en a-bed with thee. MIS. G. Umh, umh! GAL. Before I lose thee, my dear Pru, I’ll drive it to that push. MIS. G. Worse and worse still; You embrace a mischief, to prevent an ill. GAL. I’ll buy thee of him, stop his mouth with gold: Think’st thou ’twill do? MIS. G. O me! heavens grant it would! Yet now my senses are set more in tune, He writ, as I remember, in his letter, That he in riding up and down had spent, Ere he could find me, thirty pounds: send that; Stand not on thirty with him. GAL. Forty, Pru! Say thou the word, ’tis done: we venture lives For wealth, but must do more to keep our wives. Thirty or forty, Pru? MIS. G. Thirty, good sweet; Of an ill bargain let’s save what we can: I’ll pay it him with my tears; he was a man, When first I knew him, of a meek spirit, All goodness is not yet dried up, I hope. GAL. He shall have thirty pound, let that stop all: Love’s sweets taste best when we have drunk down gall.

_Enter_ TILTYARD, MISTRESS TILTYARD, GOSHAWK, _and_ MISTRESS OPENWORK.

God’s-so, our friends! come, come, smooth your cheek: After a storm the face of heaven looks sleek. TILT. Did I not tell you these turtles were together? MIS. T. How dost thou, sirrah?[1047] why, sister Gallipot—— MIS. O. Lord, how she’s chang’d! GOS. Is your wife ill, sir? GAL. Yes, indeed, la, sir, very ill, very ill, never worse. MIS. T. How her head burns! feel how her pulses work! MIS. O. Sister, lie down a little; that always does me good. MIS. T. In good sadness,[1048] I find best ease in that too. Has she laid some hot thing to her stomach? MIS. G. No, but I will lay something anon. TILT. Come, come, fools, you trouble her.—Shall’s go, master Goshawk? GOS. Yes, sweet master Tiltyard.—Sirrah Rosamond, I hold my life Gallipot hath vext his wife. MIS. O. She has a horrible high colour indeed. GOS. We shall have your face painted with the same red soon at night, when your husband comes from his rubbers in a false alley: thou wilt not believe me that his bowls run with a wrong bias. MIS. O. It cannot sink into me that he feeds upon stale mutton abroad, having better and fresher at home. GOS. What if I bring thee where thou shalt see him stand at rack and manger? MIS. O. I’ll saddle him in’s kind, and spur him till he kick again. GOS. Shall thou and I ride our journey then? MIS. O. Here’s my hand. GOS. No more.—Come, master Tiltyard, shall we leap into the stirrups with our women, and amble home? TILT. Yes, yes.—Come, wife. MIS. T. In troth, sister, I hope you will do well for all this. MIS. G. I hope I shall. Farewell, good sister. Sweet master Goshawk. GAL. Welcome, brother, most kindly welcome, sir. ALL. Thanks, sir, for our good cheer. [_Exeunt all but_ GALLIPOT _and_ MIS. GALLIPOT. GAL. It shall be so: because a crafty knave Shall not outreach me, nor walk by my door With my wife arm in arm, as ’twere his whore, I’ll give him a golden coxcomb, thirty pound. Tush, Pru, what’s thirty pound? sweet duck, look cheerly. MIS. G. Thou’rt worthy of my heart, thou buy’st it dearly.

_Enter_ LAXTON _muffled_.

LAX. Uds light, the tide’s against me; a pox of your ’pothecaryship! O for some glister to set him going! ’Tis one of Hercules’ labours to tread one of these city hens, because their cocks are still crowing over them. There’s no turning tail here, I must on. [_Aside._ MIS. G. O husband, see he comes! GAL. Let me deal with him. LAX. Bless you, sir. GAL. Be you blest too, sir, if you come in peace. LAX. Have you any good pudding tobacco, sir? MIS. G. O, pick no quarrels, gentle sir! my husband Is not a man of weapon, as you are; He knows all, I have open’d all before him, Concerning you. LAX. Zounds, has she shewn my letters? [_Aside._ MIS. G. Suppose my case were yours, what would you do? At such a pinch, such batteries, such assaults Of father, mother, kindred, to dissolve The knot you tied, and to be bound to him; How could you shift this storm off? LAX. If I know, hang me! MIS. G. Besides a story of your death was read Each minute to me. LAX. What a pox means this riddling? [_Aside._ GAL. Be wise, sir; let not you and I be tost On lawyers’ pens; they have sharp nibs, and draw Men’s very heart-blood from them. What need you, sir, To beat the drum of my wife’s infamy, And call your friends together, sir, to prove Your precontract, when sh’as confest it? LAX. Umh, sir, Has she confest it? GAL. Sh’as, ’faith, to me, sir, Upon your letter sending. MIS. G. I have, I have. LAX. If I let this iron cool, call me slave. [_Aside._ Do you hear, you dame Prudence? think’st thou, vile woman, I’ll take these blows and wink? MIS. GAL. Upon my knees. [_Kneeling._ LAX. Out, impudence! GAL. Good sir—— LAX. You goatish slaves! No wild fowl to cut up but mine? GAL. Alas, sir, You make her flesh to tremble; fright her not: She shall do reason, and what’s fit. LAX. I’ll have thee, Wert thou more common than an hospital, And more diseas’d. GAL. But one word, good sir! LAX. So, sir. GAL. I married her, have lien with her, and got Two children on her body; think but on that: Have you so beggarly an appetite, When I upon a dainty dish have fed To dine upon my scraps, my leavings? ha, sir? Do I come near you now, sir? LAX. Byrlady,[1049] you touch me! GAL. Would not you scorn to wear my clothes, sir? LAX. Right, sir. GAL. Then, pray, sir, wear not her; for she’s a garment So fitting for my body, I am loath Another should put it on: you’ll undo both. Your letter, as she said, complain’d you had spent, In quest of her, some thirty pound; I’ll pay it: Shall that, sir, stop this gap up ’twixt you two? LAX. Well, if I swallow this wrong, let her thank you: The money being paid, sir, I am gone: Farewell. O women, happy’s he trusts none! MIS. G. Despatch him hence, sweet husband. GAL. Yes, dear wife: Pray, sir, come in: ere master Laxton part, Thou shalt in wine drink to him. MIS. G. With all my heart.— [_Exit_ GALLIPOT. How dost thou like my wit? LAX. Rarely: that wile, By which the serpent did the first woman beguile, Did ever since all women’s bosoms fill; You’re apple-eaters all, deceivers still. [_Exeunt._