SCENE III.

_A room in_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE’S _house_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _and_ LOW-WATER, _both disguised as before_.

MIS. LOW. I’ve sent in one to the widow. LOW. Well said, Kate! Thou ply’st thy business close; the coast is clear yet. MIS. LOW. Let me but have warning, I shall make pretty shift with them. LOW. That thou shalt, wench. [_Exit._

_Enter Servant._

SER. My lady, sir, commends her kindly to you, And for the third part of an hour, sir, Desires your patience; Two or three of her tenants out of Kent Will hold her so long busied. MIS. LOW. Thank you, sir; ’Tis fit I should attend her time and leisure. [_Exit Servant._ Those were my tenants once; but what relief Is there in what hath been, or what I was? ’Tis now that makes the man: a last-year’s feast Yields little comfort for the present humour; He starves that feeds his hopes with what is past.—

_Re-enter_ LOW-WATER.

How now? LOW. They’re come, newly alighted. MIS. LOW. Peace, peace! I’ll have a trick for ’em; look you second me well now. LOW. I warrant thee. MIS. LOW. I must seem very imperious, I can tell you; therefore, if I should chance to use you roughly, pray, forgive me beforehand. LOW. With all my heart, Kate. MIS. LOW. You must look for no obedience in these[90] clothes; that lies in the pocket of my gown. LOW. Well, well, I will not then. MIS. LOW. I hear ’em coming, step back a little, sir. [LOW-WATER _retires_.]—Where be those fellows?

_Enter_ WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, _and_ OVERDONE.

Who looks out there? is there ne’er a knave i’ th’ house to take those gentlemen’s horses? where wait you to-day? how stand you, like a dreaming goose in a corner? the gentlemen’s horses, forsooth! LOW. Yes, an’t like[91] your worship. [_Exit._ PEP. What’s here? a strange alteration! WEA. A new lord! would I were upon my mare’s back again then! MIS. LOW. Pray, gentlemen, pardon the rudeness of these grooms, I hope they will be brought to better fashion; In the meantime, you’re welcome, gentlemen. ALL. We thank you, sir. WEA. Life, here’s quick work! I’ll hold my life, has struck the widow i’ the right planet, _Venus in cauda_! I thought ’twas a lecherous planet that goes to’t with a caudle.

_Re-enter_ LOW-WATER.

MIS. LOW. How now, sir? LOW. The gentlemen’s horses are set up, sir. PEP. No, no, no, we’ll away. WEA. We’ll away. MIS. LOW. How! by my faith, but you shall not yet, by your leave.—Where’s Bess?—Call your mistress, sir, to welcome these kind gentlemen, my friends. [_Exit_ LOW-WATER. PEP. How! Bess? OVER. Peg? WEA. Plain Bess? I know how the world goes then; he has been a-bed with Bess: i’faith, there’s no trust to these widows; a young horsing gentleman carries ’em away clear.

_Re-enter_ LOW-WATER.

MIS. LOW. Now, where’s your mistress, sir? how chance she comes not? LOW. Sir, she requests you to excuse her for a while; she’s busy with a milliner about gloves. MIS. LOW. Gloves! WEA. Hoyday! gloves too! MIS. LOW. Could she find no other time to choose gloves but now, when my friends are here? PEP. No, sir, ’tis no matter; we thank you for your good will, sir: to say truth, we have no business with her at all at this time, i’faith, sir. MIS. LOW. O, that’s another matter; yet stay, stay, gentlemen, and taste a cup of wine ere you go. OVER. No, thank you, sir. MIS. LOW. Master Pepperton—master Weatherwise, will you, sir? WEA. I’ll see the wine in a drunkard’s shoes first, and drink’t after he has brewed it. But let her go; she’s fitted, i’faith; a proud, surly sir here, he domineers already; one that will shake her bones, and go to dice with her money, or I have no skill in a calendar: life, he that can be so saucy to call her Bess already, will call her prating quean a month hence. [_Exeunt_ WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, _and_ OVERDONE. LOW. They’ve given thee all the slip. MIS. LOW. So, a fair riddance! There’s three rubs gone, I’ve a clear way to the mistress[92]. LOW. You’d need have a clear way, because you’re a bad pricker. MIS. LOW. Yet if my bowl take bank, I shall go nigh To make myself a saver, Here’s alley-room enough; I’ll try my fortune: I’m to begin the world like a younger brother; I know that a bold face and a good spirit Is all the jointure he can make [a] widow, And’t shall go hard but I’ll be as rich as he. Or at least seem so, and that’s wealth enough; For nothing kills a widow’s heart so much As a faint, bashful wooer; though he have thousands, And come with a poor water-gruel spirit And a fish-market face, he shall ne’er speed; I would not have himself left a poor widower. LOW. Faith, I’m glad I’m alive to commend thee, Kate; I shall be sure now to see my commendations delivered. MIS. LOW. I’ll put her to’t, i’faith. LOW. But soft ye, Kate; How and[93] she should accept of your bold kindness? MIS. LOW. A chief point to be thought on, by my faith! Marry, therefore, sir, be you sure to step in, For fear I should shame myself and spoil all. LOW. Well, I’ll save your credit then for once; but look you come there no more. MIS. LOW. Away! I hear her coming. LOW. I am vanish’d. [_Exit._

_Enter_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE.

MIS. LOW. How does my life, my soul, my dear sweet madam? L. GOLD. I’ve wrong’d your patience, made you stand too long here. MIS. LOW. There’s no such thing, i’faith, madam, you’re pleas’d to say so. L. GOLD. Yes, I confess I was too slow, sir. MIS. LOW. Why, you shall make me amends for that, then, with a quickness in your bed. L. GOLD. That were a speedy mends, sir. MIS. LOW. Why, then, you are out of my debt; I’ll cross the book, and turn over a new leaf with you. L. GOLD. So, with paying a small debt, I may chance run into a greater. MIS. LOW. My faith, your credit will be the better then; there’s many a brave gallant would be glad of such fortune, and pay use for’t. L. GOLD. Some of them have nothing else to do; they would be idle and[94] ’twere not for interest. MIS. LOW. I promise you, widow, were I a setter up, such is my opinion of your payment, I durst trust you with all the ware in my shop. L. GOLD. I thank you for your good will, I can have no more. MIS. LOW. Not of me, i’faith; nor that neither, and[94] you knew[95] all. [_Aside._]—Come, make but short service, widow, a kiss and to bed; I’m very hungry, i’faith, wench. L. GOLD. What, are you, sir? MIS. LOW. O, a younger brother has an excellent stomach, madam, worth a hundred of your sons and heirs, that stay their wedding-stomachs with a hot bit of a common mistress, and then come to a widow’s bed like a flash of lightning: you’re sure of the first of me, not of the five-hundredth of them: I never took physic yet in my life; you shall have the doctor continually with them, or some bottle for his deputy, out flies your moneys for restoratives and strengthenings; in me ’tis saved in your purse and found in your children: they’ll get peevish[96] pothecaries’ stuff, you may weigh ’em by th’ ounces; I, boys of war, brave commanders, that shall bear a breadth in their shoulders and a weight in their hips, and run over a whole country with a pound a’ beef and a biscuit in their belly. Ho, widow, my kisses are virgins, my embraces perfect, my strength solid, my love constant, my heat comfortable; but, to come to the point, inutterable—— L. GOLD. But soft ye, soft ye; because you stand so strictly Upon your purity, I’ll put you to’t, sir; Will you swear here you never yet knew woman? MIS. LOW. Never, as man e’er knew her, by this light, widow! L. GOLD. What, what, sir?—’Shrew my heart, he moves me much. [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. Nay, since you love to bring a man on’s knees, I take into the same oath thus much more, That you are the first widow, or maid, or wife, That ever I in suit of love did court, Or honestly did woo: how say you to that, widow? L. GOLD. Marry, I say, sir, you had a good portion of chastity left you, though ill fortune run away with the rest. MIS. LOW. That I kept for thee, widow; she’s of fortune, and all her strait-bodied daughters; thou shalt have’t, widow. [_Kissing her._ L. GOLD. Push,[97] what do you mean? MIS. LOW. I cannot bestow’t better. L. GOLD. I’ll call my servants. MIS. LOW. By my troth, you shall not, madam.

_Re-enter_ LOW-WATER.

LOW. Does your worship call, sir? MIS. LOW. Ha, pox! are you peeping?— [_Throws[98] something at_ LOW-WATER, _who goes out_. He came in a good time, I thank him for’t. [_Aside._ L. GOLD. What do you think of me? you’re very forward, sir! MIS. LOW. Extremity of love. L. GOLD. You say you’re ignorant; It should not seem so surely by your play, For aught I see, you may make one yourself, You need not hold the cards to any gamester. MIS. LOW. That love should teach men ways to wrong itself! L. GOLD. Are these the first-fruits of your boldness, sir? If all take after these, you may boast on ’em, There comes few such to market among women; Time you were taken down, sir.—Within there! MIS. LOW. I’ve lost my way again: There’s but two paths that lead[99] to widows’ beds, That’s wealth or forwardness, and I’ve took the wrong one. [_Aside._

_Re-enter_ WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, _and_ OVERDONE, _with Servant_.

SER. He marry my lady! why, there’s no such thought yet. [_Exit._ MIS. LOW. O, here they are all again too! [_Aside._ L. GOLD. Are you come, gentlemen? I wish no better men. WEA. O, the moon’s chang’d now! L. GOLD. See you that gentleman yonder? PEP. Yes, sweet madam. L. GOLD. Then, pray, be witness all of you, with this kiss [_Kisses_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER. I choose him for my husband—— WEA. } PEP. } A pox on’t! OVER. } L. GOLD. And with this parted gold, that two hearts join. [_Breaks gold into two pieces, and gives one to_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER. MIS. LOW. Never with chaster love than this of mine! L. GOLD. And those that have the hearts to come to the wedding, They shall be welcome for their former loves. [_Exit._ PEP. No, I thank you; you’ve choked me already. WEA. I never suspected mine almanac till now; I believe he plays cogging[100] John with me, I bought it at his shop; it may learn the more knavery by that. MIS. LOW. Now indeed, gentlemen, I can bid you welcome; Before ’twas but a flourish. WEA. Nay, so my almanac told me there should be an eclipse, but not visible in our horizon, but about the western inhabitants of Mexicana and California. MIS. LOW. Well, we have no business there, sir. WEA. Nor we have none here, sir; and so fare you well. MIS. LOW. You save the house a good labour, gentlemen. [_Exeunt_ WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, _and_ OVERDONE.]—The fool carries them away in a voider.[101] Where be these fellows?

_Re-enter Servant_, PICKADILL, _and_ LOW-WATER.

SER. Sir? PICK. Here, sir! SER. What[’s] your worship[’s] pleasure? MIS. LOW. O, this is something like.—Take you your ease, sir; Here are those now more fit to be commanded. LOW. How few women are of thy mind! she thinks it too much to keep me in subjection for one day; whereas some wives would be glad to keep their husbands in awe all days of their lives, and think it the best bargain that e’er they made. [_Aside, and exit._ MIS. LOW. I’ll spare no cost for the wedding; some device too, To shew our thankfulness to wit and fortune; It shall be so.—Run straight for one o’ the wits. PICK. How? one o’ the wits? I care not if I run on that account: are they in town, think you? MIS. LOW. Whither runnest thou now? PICK. To an ordinary for one of the wits. MIS. LOW. Why to an ordinary above a tavern? PICK. No, I hold your best wits to be at ordinary; nothing so good in a tavern. MIS. LOW. And why, I pray, sir? PICK. Because those that go to an ordinary[102] dine better for twelve pence than he that goes to a tavern for his five shillings; and I think those have the best wits that can save four shillings, and fare better too. MIS. LOW. So, sir, all your wit then runs upon victuals? PICK. ’Tis a sign ’twill hold out the longer then. MIS. LOW. What were you saying to me? SER. Please your worship, I heard there came a scholar over lately With old sir Oliver’s lady. MIS. LOW. Is she come?— [_Aside._ What is that lady? SER. A good gentlewoman, Has been long prisoner with the enemy. MIS. LOW. I know’t too well, and joy in her release.— [_Aside._ Go to that house then straight, and in one labour You may bid them, and entreat home that scholar. SER. It shall be done with speed, sir. [_Exit._ PICK. I’ll along with you, and see what face that scholar has brought over; a thin pair of parbreaking[103] sea-water green chops, I warrant you. [_Exit._ MIS. LOW. Since wit has pleasur’d me, I’ll pleasure wit; Scholars shall fare the better. O my blessing! I feel a hand of mercy lift me up Out of a world of waters, and now sets me Upon a mountain, where the sun plays most, To cheer my heart even as it dries my limbs. What deeps I see beneath me, in whose falls Many a nimble mortal toils, And scarce can feed[104] himself! the streams of fortune, ’Gainst which he tugs in vain, still beat him down, And will not suffer him—past hand to mouth— To lift his arm to his posterity’s blessing: I see a careful sweat run in a ring About his temples, but all will not do; For, till some happy means relieve his state, There he must stick, and bide the wrath of fate. I see this wrath upon an uphill land; O blest are they can see their falls and stand!

_Re-enter Servant, shewing in_ BEVERIL.

How now? SER. With much entreating, sir, he’s come. [_Exit._ MIS. LOW. Sir, you’re—my brother! joys come thick together.—— [_Aside._ Sir, when I see a scholar—pardon me— I am so taken with affection[105], for him, That I must run into his arms and clasp him. [_Embracing him._ BEV. Art stands in need, sir, of such cherishers; I meet too few: ’twere a brave world for scholars, If half a kingdom were but of your mind, sir; Let ignorance and hell confound the rest. MIS. LOW. Let it suffice,[106] sweet sir, you cannot think How dearly you are welcome. BEV. May I live To shew you service for’t! MIS. LOW. Your love, your love, sir; We go no higher, nor shall you go lower. Sir, I am bold to send for you, to request A kindness from your wit, for some device To grace our wedding; it shall be worth your pains, And something more t’ express my love to art; You shall not receive all in bare embracements. BEV. Your love I thank; but, pray, sir, pardon me, I’ve a heart says I must not grant you that. MIS. LOW. No! what’s your reason, sir? BEV. I’m not at peace With the lady of this house; now you’ll excuse me; Sh’as wrong’d my sister; and I may not do’t. MIS. LOW. The widow knows you not. BEV. I never saw her face to my remembrance: O that my heart should feel her wrongs so much, And yet live ignorant of the injurer! MIS. LOW. Let me persuade thee, since she knows you not, Make clear the weather, let not griefs betray you; I’ll tell her you’re a worthy friend of mine, And so I tell her true, thou art indeed. Sir, here she comes.

_Re-enter_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE.

L. GOLD. What, are you busy, sir? MIS. LOW. Nothing less, lady; here’s a gentleman Of noble parts, beside his friendship to me; Pray, give him liberal welcome. L. GOLD. He’s most welcome. MIS. LOW. The virtues of his mind will deserve largely. L. GOLD. Methinks his outward parts deserve as much then; A proper[107] gentleman it is. [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. Come, worthy sir. BEV. I follow. [_Exeunt_ L. GOLDENFLEECE _and_ MIS. LOW-WATER. Check thy blood, For fear it prove too bold to wrong thy goodness: A wise man makes affections but his slaves; Break ’em in time, let ’em not master thee. O, ’tis my sister’s enemy! think of that: Some speedy grief fall down upon the fire, Before it take my heart; let it not rise ’Gainst brotherly nature, judgment, and these wrongs. Make clear the weather![108] O who could look upon her face in storms! Yet pains may work it out; griefs do but strive To kill this spark, I’ll keep it still alive. [_Exit._