SCENE II.

WATER-CAMLET’S _shop_.[894]

WATER-CAMLET, GEORGE, _and_ RALPH _discovered_.

GEO. What is’t you lack,[895] you lack, you lack? Stuffs for the belly or the back? Silk-grograns, satins, velvet fine, The rosy-colour’d carnadine,[896] Your nutmeg hue, or gingerline, Cloth-of-tissue or tabine,[897] That like beaten gold will shine In your amorous ladies' eyne,[898] Whilst you their softer silks do twine? What is’t you lack, you lack, you lack?

_Enter_ MISTRESS WATER-CAMLET.

MIS. W.-CAM. I do lack content, sir, content I lack; have you or your worshipful master here any content to sell? GEO. If content be a stuff to be sold by the yard, you may have content at home, and never go abroad for’t. MIS. W.-CAM. Do, cut me three yards; I'll pay for ’em. GEO. There’s all we have i' the shop; we must know what you’ll give for ’em first. W.-CAM.. Why, Rachel, sweet Rachel, my bosom Rachel, How didst thou get forth? thou wert here, sweet Rac, Within this hour, even in my very heart. MIS. W.-CAM. Away! or stay still, I'll away from thee; One bed shall never hold us both again, Nor one roof cover us: didst thou bring home— GEO. What is’t you lack, you lack, you lack? MIS. W.-CAM. Peace, bandog, bandog! give me leave to speak, Or I'll—— GEO. Shall I not follow my trade? I'm bound to’t, and my master bound to bring me up in’t. W.-CAM.. Peace, good George; give her anger leave; Thy mistress will be quiet presently. MIS. W.-CAM. Quiet! I defy thee and quiet too; Quiet thy bastards thou hast brought home. GEO. _and_ RAL. What is’t you lack, you lack? &c. MIS. W.-CAM. Death, give me an ell![899] has one bawling cur Raised up another? two dogs upon me? And[900] the old bear-ward will not succour me, I'll stave ’em off myself: give me an ell, I say! GEO. Give her not an inch, master, she’ll take two ells if you do. W.-CAM.. Peace, George and Ralph; no more words, I charge you:— And Rachel, sweet wife, be more temperate: I know your tongue speaks not by the rule And guidance of your heart, when you proclaim The pretty children of my virtuous And noble kinswoman, whom in life you knew Above my praises' reach, to be my bastards: This is not well, although your anger did it; Pray, chide your anger for it. MIS. W.-CAM. Sir, sir, your gloss Of kinswoman cannot serve turn; ’tis stale, And smells too rank: though your shop-wares you vent[901] With your deceiving lights,[902] yet your chamber-stuff Shall not pass so with me; I say, and I'll prove— GEO. What is’t you lack?

_Enter_ MARIA _and_ EDWARD.

W.-CAM. Why, George, I say—— MIS. W.-CAM. Lecher, I say, I'll be divorc’d from thee; I'll prove ’em thy bastards, and thou insufficient. [_Exit._ MAR. What said my angry cousin[903] to you, sir? That we were bastards? EDW. I hope she meant not us. W.-CAM. No, no, My pretty cousins, she meant George and Ralph; Rage will speak any thing; but they’re ne’er the worse. GEO. Yes indeed, forsooth, she spoke to us, but chiefly to Ralph, because she knows he has but one stone. RAL. No more of that, if you love me, George; this is not the way to keep a quiet house. MAR. Truly, sir, I would not, for more treasure Than ever I saw yet, be in your house A cause of discord. EDW. And do you think I would, sister? MAR. No indeed, Ned.

_Enter_ FRANKLIN _junior and_ GEORGE CRESSINGHAM, _disguised_.

EDW. Why did you not speak for me with you then, and said we could not have done so? W.-CAM.. No more, sweet cousins, now.—Speak, George, customers approach. G. CRES. Is the barber prepared? FRANK. JUN. With ignorance enough to go through with it; so near I am to him, we must call cousins; would thou wert as sure to hit the tailor! G. CRES. If I do not steal away handsomely, let me never play the tailor again. GEO. What is’t you lack? &c. FRANK. JUN. Good satins, sir. GEO. The best in Europe, sir; here’s a piece worth a piece every yard of him; the king of Naples wears no better silk; mark his gloss, he dazzles the eye to look upon him. FRANK. JUN. Is he not gummed?[904] GEO. Gummed! he has neither mouth nor tooth, how can he be gummed? FRANK. JUN. Very pretty. W.-CAM.. An especial good piece of silk; the worm never spun a finer thread, believe it, sir. FRANK. JUN. Gascoyn, you have some skill in it. W.-CAM.. Your tailor, sir? FRANK. JUN. Yes, sir. G. CRES. A good piece, sir; but let’s see more choice. RAL. Tailor, drive thorough; you know your bribes. G. CRES. Mum: he bestows forty pounds, if I say the word. RAL. Strike through; there’s poundage for you then. FRANK. JUN. Ay, marry, I like this better.—What sayst thou, Gascoyn? G. CRES. A good piece indeed, sir. GEO. The great Turk has worse satin at’s elbow than this, sir. FRANK. JUN. The price? W.-CAM.. Look on the mark, George. GEO. O, _Souse_ and _P_, by my facks, sir. W.-CAM.. The best sort then; sixteen a yard, nothing to be bated. FRANK. JUN. Fie, sir, fifteen’s too high, yet so.— How[905] many yards will serve for my suit, sirrah? G. CRES. Nine yards, you can have no less, sir Andrew. FRANK. JUN. But I can, sir, if you please to steal less; I had but eight in my last suit. G. CRES. You pinch us too near, in faith, sir Andrew. FRANK. JUN. Yet can you pinch out a false pair of sleeves to a friezado doublet. GEO. No, sir; some purses and pin-pillows perhaps: a tailor pays for his kissing that ways. FRANK. JUN. Well, sir, eight yards; eight fifteens I give, and cut it. W.-CAM.. I cannot, truly, sir. GEO. My master must be no subsidy-man, sir, if he take such fifteens. FRANK. JUN. I am at highest, sir, if you can take money. W.-CAM.. Well, sir, I'll give you the buying once; I hope to gain it in your custom: want you nothing else, sir? FRANK. JUN. Not at this time, sir. G. CRES. Indeed but you do, sir Andrew; I must needs deliver my lady’s message to you, she enjoined me by oath to do it; she commanded me to move you for a new gown. FRANK. JUN. Sirrah, I'll break your head, if you motion it again. G. CRES. I must endanger myself for my lady, sir: you know she’s to go to my lady Trenchmore’s wedding; and to be seen there without a new gown! she’ll have ne’er an eye to be seen there, for her fingers in ’em: nay, by my fack, sir, I do not think she’ll go; and then, the cause known, what a discredit 'twill be to you! FRANK. JUN. Not a word more, goodman snip-snapper, for your ears.—What comes this to, sir? W.-CAM.. Six pound, sir. FRANK. JUN. There’s your money. [_Gives money._]—Will you take this, and be gone and about your business presently? G. CRES. Troth, sir, I'll see some stuffs for my lady first; I'll tell her, at least, I did my good will.—A fair piece of cloth-of-silver, pray you, now. GEO. Or cloth-of-gold, if you please, sir, as rich as ever the Sophy wore. FRANK. JUN. You are the arrantest villain of a tailor that ever sat cross-legged; what do you think a gown of this stuff will come to? G. CRES. Why, say it be forty pound, sir, what’s that to you? three thousand a-year I hope will maintain it. FRANK. JUN. It will, sir; very good, you were best be my overseer: say I be not furnished with money, how then? G. CRES. A very fine excuse in you! which place of ten now will you send me for a hundred pound, to bring it presently? W.-CAM.. Sir, sir, your tailor persuades you well; ’tis for your credit and the great content of your lady. FRANK. JUN. ’Tis for your content, sir, and my charges.— Never think, goodman false-stitch, to come to the mercer’s with me again: pray, will you see if my cousin Sweetball the barber—he’s nearest hand—be furnished, and bring me word instantly. G. CRES. I fly, sir. [_Exit._ FRANK. JUN. You may fly, sir, you have clipt somebody’s wings for it, to piece out your own; an arrant thief you are! W.-CAM.. Indeed he speaks honestly and justly, sir. FRANK. JUN. You expect some gain, sir, there’s your cause of love. W.-CAM.. Surely I do a little, sir. FRANK. JUN. And what might be the price of this? W.-CAM.. This is thirty a yard; but if you’ll go to forty, here’s a nonpareil. FRANK. JUN. So, there’s a matter of forty pound for a gown-cloth? W.-CAM.. Thereabouts, sir: why, sir, there are far short of your means that wear the like. FRANK. JUN. Do you know my means, sir? GEO. By overhearing your tailor, sir,—three thousand a-year; but if you’d have a petticoat for your lady, here’s a stuff. FRANK. JUN. Are you another tailor, sirrah? here’s a knave! what are you? GEO. You are such another gentleman! but for the stuff, sir, ’tis _L.SS._ and _K_, for the turn stript[906] a' purpose; a yard and a quarter broad too, which is the just depth of a woman’s petticoat. FRANK. JUN. And why stript for a petticoat? GEO. Because if they abuse their petticoats, there are abuses stript; then ’tis taking them up, and they may be stript and whipt too.[907] FRANK. JUN. Very ingenious! GEO. Then it is likewise stript standing, between which is discovered the open part, which is now called the placket.[908] FRANK. JUN. Why, was it ever called otherwise? GEO. Yes; while the word remained pure in his original, the Latin tongue, who have no K's, it was called the _placet_; _a placendo_, a thing or place to please.

_Re-enter_ GEORGE CRESSINGHAM.

FRANK. JUN. Better and worse still.— Now, sir, you come in haste; what says my cousin? G. CRES. Protest, sir, he’s half angry, that either you should think him unfurnished, or not furnished for your use; there’s a hundred pound ready for you: he desires you to pardon his coming; his folks are busy, and his wife trimming a gentleman; but at your first approach the money wants but telling. FRANK. JUN. He would not trust you with it—I con him thanks[909]—for that he knows what trade you are of.— Well, sir, pray, cut him patterns; he may in the meantime know my lady’s liking: let your man take the pieces whole, with the lowest prices, and walk with me to my cousin’s. W.-CAM.. With all my heart, sir.—Ralph, your cloak, and go with the gentleman: look you give good measure. G. CRES. Look you carry a good yard with you. RAL. The best i' the shop, sir; yet we have none bad.— You’ll have the stuff for the petticoat too? FRANK. JUN. No, sir, the gown only. G. CRES. By all means, sir: not the petticoat? that were holy-day upon working-day, i’faith. FRANK. JUN. You are so forward for a knave,[910] sir! G. CRES. ’Tis for your credit and my lady’s both I do it, sir. FRANK. JUN. Your man is trusty, sir? W.-CAM.. O sir, we keep none but those we dare trust, sir.—Ralph, have a care of light gold. RAL. I warrant you, sir, I'll take none. FRANK. JUN. Come, sirrah.—Fare you well, sir. W.-CAM.. Pray, know my shop another time, sir. FRANK. JUN. That I shall, sir, from all the shops i' the town; ’tis the Lamb in Lombard Street. [_Exent_ FRANKLIN _jun._, G. CRESSINGHAM, _and_ RALPH _carrying the stuffs and a yard-measure_. GEO. A good morning’s work, sir; if this custom would but last long, you might shut up your shop and live privately. W.-CAM.. O George, but here’s a grief that takes away all the gains and joy of all my thrift. GEO. What’s that, sir? W.-CAM.. Thy mistress, George; her frowardness sours all my comfort. GEO. Alas, sir, they are but squibs and crackers, they’ll soon die; you know her flashes of old. W.-CAM.. But they fly so near me, that they burn me, George; They are as ill as muskets charg’d with bullets. GEO. She has discharged herself now, sir; you need not fear her. W.-CAM.. No man can love without his affliction, George. GEO. As you cannot without my mistress. W.-CAM.. Right, right;[911] there’s harmony in discords: this lamp of love, while any oil is left, can never be extinct; it may, like a snuff, wink and seem to die, but up he will again and shew his head: I cannot be quiet, George, without my wife at home. GEO. And when she’s at home you’re never quiet, I'm sure; a fine life you have on’t! Well, sir, I'll do my best to find her, and bring her back, if I can. W.-CAM.. Do, honest George; at Knavesby’s house, that varlet’s— There is her haunt and harbour—who enforces A kinsman on her, and [she] calls him cousin. Restore her, George, to ease this heart that’s vext, The best new suit that e’er thou wor’st is next. GEO. I thank you aforehand, sir. [_Exeunt._