SCENE II.

_A large room in_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE’S _house_.

_Several Servants discovered placing things in order, and_ PICKADILL _looking on_.

PICK. Bestir your bones nimbly, you ponderous beef-buttocked knaves; what a number of lazy hinds do I keep company withal! where’s the flesh-colour velvet cushion now for my lady’s pease-porridge-tawny-satin bum? You attendants upon revels! FIRST SER. You can prate and domineer well, because you have a privilege[d] place; but I’d fain see you set your hand to’t. PICK. O base bone-pickers, I set my hand to’t! when did you e’er see a gentleman set his hand to any thing, unless it were to a sheep-skin, and receive a hundred pound for his pains? SEC. SER. And afterward lie in the Counter for his pleasure. PICK. Why, true, sir, ’tis for his pleasure indeed; for, spite of all their teeths, he may lie i’ th’ Hole[144] when he list. FIRST SER. Marry, and should for me. PICK. Ay, thou wouldst make as good a bawd as the best jailor of them all; I know that. FIRST SER. How, fool! PICK. Hark! I must call you knave within; ’tis but staying somewhat the longer for’t. [_Exeunt._

_Loud music. Enter, arm in arm_, LADY GOLDENFLEECE _richly dressed, and_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _richly attired as a man; after them_ SIR OLIVER TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _and Dutch Merchant; after them_ LADY TWILIGHT, GRACE, _and_ JANE; _after them_ PHILIP TWILIGHT, SANDFIELD, SAVOURWIT, _and_ LOW-WATER, _disguised as before_.

MIS. LOW. This fair assembly is most freely welcome. SIR O. TWI., _&c._[145] Thanks to you, good sir. L. GOLD. Come, my long-wish’d-for madam, You and this worthy stranger take best welcome; Your freedom is a second feast to me. MIS. LOW. How is’t with my brother? LOW. The fit holds him still, Nay, love’s more violent. MIS. LOW. ’Las, poor gentleman! I would he had my office without money! If he should offer any, I’d refuse it. LOW. I have the letter ready; He’s worthy of a place knows[146] how to use it. MIS. LOW. That’s well said.— Come, ladies—gentlemen—sir Oliver; Good, seat yourselves: shall we be found unreadiest? [_They sit._ What is yon gentleman with the funeral-face there? Methinks that look does ill become a bride-house. SIR O. TWI. Who does your worship mean, sir? my son Philip? I’m sure he had ne’er less reason to be sad.— Why are you sad, son Philip? PHIL. How, sir, sad? You shall not find it so, sir. SAV. Take heed he do not, then. You must beware how you carry your face in this company; as far as I can see, that young bridegroom has hawk’s eyes, he’ll go nigh to spell sister in your face; if your nose were but crooked enough to serve for an S, he’d find an eye presently, and then he has more light for the rest. PHIL. I’ll learn then to dissemble. SAV. Nay, and[147] you be to learn that now, you’ll ne’er sit in a branched[148] velvet gown as long as you live; you should have took that at nurse, before your mother weaned you; so do all those that prove great children and batten well. Peace, here comes a scholar indeed; he has learnt it, I warrant you.

_Enter_ BEVERIL _with a pasteboard_.

L. GOLD. Kind sir, you’re welcome; you take all the pains, sir. BEV. I wish they were but worthy of the grace Of your fair presence and this choice assembly: Here is an abstract, madam, of what’s shewn, Which I commend to your favour. [_Giving pasteboard._ L. GOLD. Thank you for’t, sir. BEV. I would I durst present my love as boldly! [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. My honest brother! [_Aside._ L. GOLD. Look thee here, sweetheart. MIS. LOW. What’s there, sweet madam? BEV. Music, and we’re ready.

[_After loud music for a while, a thing like a globe opens on one side of the stage, and flashes out fire; then_ SIR G. LAMBSTONE, _in the character of Fire, issues from it, with yellow hair and beard intermingled with streaks like wild flames, a three-pointed fire in his hand; and, at the same time_, WEATHERWISE, _as Air, comes down, hanging by a cloud, with a coat made like an almanac, all the twelve moons set in it, and the four quarters, winter, spring, summer, and autumn, with change of weathers, rain, lightning, tempest, &c.; and from under the stage, on different sides at the farther end, rise_ OVERDONE _as Water, and_ PEPPERTON _as Earth; Water with green flags upon his head standing up instead of hair, and a beard of the same, with a chain of pearl; Earth with a number of little things resembling trees, like a thick grove, upon his head, and a wedge of gold in his hand, his garment of a clay colour_. BEVERIL _stands behind and gives_ SIR G. LAMBSTONE _the first words of his speech_.

BEV. _The flame of zeal_—— SIR G. LAMB. _The wicked fire of lust Does now spread heat through water, air, and dust._ BEV. How! he’s out in the beginning. [_Aside._]—_The wheel of time_— WEA. The devil set fire o’ the distaff. [_Aside._ SIR G. LAMB. _I that was wont in elder times to pass For a bright angel—so they call’d me then— Now so corrupted with the upstart fires Of avarice, luxury, and inconstant heats, Struck from the bloods of cunning clap-faln daughters, Night-walking wives, but, most, libidinous widows, That I, that purify even gold itself, Have the contemptible dross thrown in my face, And my bright name walk common in disgrace. How am I us’d a’ late, that I’m so handled,— Thrust into alleys, hospitals, and tubs! I was once a name of comfort, warm’d great houses, When charity was landlord; I’ve given welcome To forty russet yeomen at a time, In a fair Christmas hall. How am I chang’d! The chimneys are swept up, the hearth as cold As the forefathers’ charity in the son; All the good, hospitable heat now turns To my young landlord’s lust, and there it burns: Rich widows, that were wont to choose by gravity Their second husbands, not by tricks of blood, Are now so taken with loose Aretine flames Of nimble wantonness and high-fed pride, They marry now but the third part of husbands, Boys, smooth-fac’d catamites, to fulfil their bed, As if a woman should a woman wed. These are the fires a’ late my brightness darks, And fills the world so full of beggarly sparks._ BEV. Hea[r]t, how am I disgrac’d! what rogue should this be? L. GOLD. By my faith, monsieur Fire, you’re a hot whorson! MIS. LOW. I fear my brother is beside his wits, He would not be so senseless to rail thus else. [_Aside._ WEA. _After this heat, you madams fat and fair, Open your casements wide, and take in air; But not that air false women make up oaths with, No, nor that air gallants perfume their clothes with; I am that air that keeps about the clouds, None of my kindred was smelt out in crowds; Not any of our house was ever tainted, When many a thousand of our foes have fainted: Yet some there are that be my chief polluters, Widows that falsify their faith to suitors, And will give fair words when the sign’s in Cancer, But, at the next remove, a scurvy answer; Come to the poor men’s houses, eat their banquet, And at night with a boy tost in a blanket; Nay, shall I come more near? perhaps at noon, For here I find a spot full in the moon: I know youth’s trick; what’s she that can withstand it, When Mercury reigns, my lady’s chamber-planet? He that believes a widow’s words shall fail, When Venus’ gown-skirts sweep[149] the Dragon’s tail; Fair weather the first day she makes to any, The second cloudy, and the third day rainy; The fourth day a great storm, lightning, and thunder; A bolt strikes the suitor, a boy keeps her under._ BEV. ’Life, these are some counterfeit slaves crept in their rooms, A’ purpose for disgrace! they shall all share with me: Heart, who the devil should these be? [_Exit._ L. GOLD. My faith, gentlemen, Air has perfum’d the room well! SIR O. TWI. So methinks, madam. SAV. A man may smell her meaning two rooms off, Though his nose wanted reparations, And the bridge left at Shoreditch, as a pledge For _rosa solis_, in a bleaking-house.[150] [_Aside._ MIS. LOW. Life, what should be his meaning in’t? LOW. I wonder. OVER. _Methinks this room should yet retain such heat, Struck out from the first ardour, and so glow yet, You should desire my company, wish for water, That offers here to serve your several pipes, Without constraint of mill or death of water-house. What if I sprinkled on the widow’s cheeks A few cool drops, to lay the guilty heat That flashes from her conscience to her face; Would’t not refresh her shame? From such as she I first took weakness and inconstancy; I sometimes swell above my banks and spread, They’re commonly with child before they’re wed; In me the Sirens sing before they play, In her more witchcraft, for her smiles betray; Where I’m least seen, there my most danger lies, So in those parts hid most from a man’s eyes, Her heart, her love, or what may be more close; I know no mercy, she thinks that no loss; In her poor gallants, pirates thrive in me; I help to cast away, and so does she._ L. GOLD. Nay, and[151] you can hold nothing, sweet sir Water, I’ll wash my hands a’ you ever hereafter. PEP. _Earth stands for a full point, me you should hire To stop the gaps of Water, Air, and Fire: I love muck well, but your first husband better, Above his soul he lov’d it, as his end Did fearfully witness it; at his last gasp His spirit flam’d as it forsook his breast, And left the sparkles quarrelling ’bout his lips, Now of such metal the devil makes him whips; He shall have gold enough to glut his soul, And as for earth, I’ll stop his crane’s throat full: The wealth he left behind him, most men know, He wrung inconscionably from the rights Of poor men’s livings, he drunk dry their brows; That liquor has a curse, yet nothing sweeter; When your posterity drinks, then ’twill taste bitter._ SIR G. LAMB. _And now to vex, ’gainst nature, form, rule, place, See once four warring[152] elements all embrace!_ [_The Elements embrace._

_Re-enter, at several corners_, BEVERIL _with three other persons, attired like the four Winds, with wings, &c., the South Wind having a great red face, the North Wind a pale, bleak one; the Western Wind one cheek red and another white, and so the Eastern Wind: they dance to the drum and fife, while the four Elements seem to give back and stand in amaze: at the end of the dance the Winds strip the Elements of their disguises, which seem to yield and almost fall off of themselves at the coming of the Winds. Exeunt all the Winds except that represented by_ BEVERIL.

L. GOLD. How! sir Gilbert Lambstone! master Overdone! All our old suitors! you’ve took pains, my masters! SIR G. LAMB. We made a vow we’d speak our minds to you. WEA. And I think we’re as good as our words, though it cost some of our purses; I owe money for the clouds yet, I care not who knows it; the planets are sufficient enough to pay the painter, and[153] I were dead. L. GOLD. Who are you, sir? BEV. Your most unworthy servant. [_Discovering himself._ L. GOLD. Pardon me; is’t you, sir? BEV. My disgrace urg’d my wit to take some form, Wherein I might both best and properliest Discover my abusers and your own, And shew you some content,—before y’had none. L. GOLD. Sir, I owe much both to your care and love, And you shall find your full requital worthy.— Was this the plot now your poor envy works out? I do revenge myself with pitying on you.— Take Fire into the buttery, he has most need on’t; Give Water some small beer, too good for him;— Air, you may walk abroad like a fortune-teller;— But take down Earth, and make him drink i’ the cellar. [_Exeunt_ SIR G. LAMBSTONE, WEATHERWISE, OVERDONE, _and_ PEPPERTON, _with_ LOW-WATER. MIS. LOW. The best revenge that could be! L. TWI. I commend you, madam. SIR O. TWI. I thought they were some such sneakers. SAV. The four suitors! and here was a mess of mad elements! MIS. LOW. Lights, more lights there! where be these blue-coats?[154]

_Enter Servants with lights._

L. GOLD. You know your lodgings, gentlemen, to-night. SIR O. TWI. ’Tis bounty makes bold guests, madam. L. GOLD. Good rest, lady. SIR O. TWI. A most contentful night begin a health, madam, To your long joys, and may the years go round with’t! L. GOLD. As many thanks as you have wish’d ’em hours, sir, Take to your lodging with you. MIS. LOW. A general rest to all. [_Exeunt with Servants all the guests except_ PHILIP TWILIGHT _and_ SAVOURWIT. PHIL. I’m excepted. SAV. Take in another to you then; there’s room enough In that exception, faith, to serve us both; The dial of my sleep goes by your eyes. [_Exeunt_ PHILIP TWILIGHT _and_ SAVOURWIT. _Scene closes._[155]