SCENE II.--_A Room in Matheo’s House.

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT, _and_ ORLANDO _disguised as a ~Serving-man~_.

_Bell._ How now, what ails your master?

_Orl._ Has taken a younger brother’s purge, forsooth, and that works with him.

_Bell._ Where is his cloak and rapier?

_Orl._ He has given up his cloak, and his rapier is bound to the peace: If you look a little higher, you may see that another hath entered into hatband for him too. Six and four have put him into this sweat.

_Bell._ Where’s all his money?

_Orl._ ’Tis put over by exchange; his doublet was going to be translated, but for me. If any man would ha’ lent but half a ducat on his beard, the hair of it had stuffed a pair of breeches by this time; I had but one poor penny, and that I was glad to niggle out, and buy a holly-wand to grace him through the street. As hap was, his boots were on, and them I dustied, to make people think he had been riding, and I had run by him.

_Bell._ Oh me!

_Enter_ MATHEO.

How does my sweet Matheo?

_Mat._ Oh rogue, of what devilish stuff are these dice made of,--the parings of the devil’s corns of his toes, that they run thus damnably?

_Bell._ I prithee, vex not.

_Mat._ If any handicraft’s-man was ever suffered to keep shop in hell, it will be a dice-maker; he’s able to undo more souls than the devil; I played with mine own dice, yet lost. Ha’ you any money?

_Bell._ ’Las, I ha’ none.

_Mat._ Must have money, must have some, must have a cloak, and rapier, and things. Will you go set your lime-twigs, and get me some birds, some money?

_Bell._ What lime-twigs should I set?

_Mat._ You will not then? Must have cash and pictures, do ye hear, frailty? shall I walk in a Plymouth cloak,[268] that’s to say, like a rogue, in my hose and doublet, and a crabtree cudgel in my hand, and you swim in your satins? Must have money, come! [_Taking off her gown._

[268] _i.e._ With a staff.

_Orl._ Is’t bed-time, master, that you undo my mistress?

_Bell._ Undo me? Yes, yes, at these riflings I Have been too often.

_Mat._ Help to flay, Pacheco.

_Orl._ Flaying call you it?

_Mat._ I’ll pawn you, by th’ lord, to your very eyebrows.

_Bell._ With all my heart, since Heaven will have me poor, As good be drowned at sea, as drowned at shore.

_Orl._ Why, hear you, sir? i’faith do not make away her gown.

_Mat._ Oh! it’s summer, it’s summer; your only fashion for a woman now is to be light, to be light.

_Orl._ Why, pray sir, employ some of that money you have of mine.

_Mat._ Thine? I’ll starve first, I’ll beg first; when I touch a penny of that, let these fingers’ ends rot.

_Orl._ So they may, for that’s past touching. I saw my twenty pounds fly high. [_Aside._

_Mat._ Knowest thou never a damned broker about the city?

_Orl._ Damned broker? yes, five hundred.

_Mat._ The gown stood me in above twenty ducats, borrow ten of it. Cannot live without silver.

_Orl._ I’ll make what I can of it, sir, I’ll be your broker,-- But not your damned broker: Oh thou scurvy knave! What makes a wife turn whore, but such a slave? [_Aside and exit with_ BELLAFRONT’S _gown_.

_Mat._ How now, little chick, what ailest, weeping for a handful of tailor’s shreds? pox on them, are there not silks enow at mercer’s?

_Bell._ I care not for gay feathers, I.

_Mat._ What dost care for then? why dost grieve?

_Bell._ Why do I grieve? A thousand sorrows strike At one poor heart, and yet it lives. Matheo, Thou art a gamester, prithee, throw at all, Set all upon one cast. We kneel and pray, And struggle for life, yet must be cast away. Meet misery quickly then, split all, sell all, And when thou’st sold all, spend it; but I beseech thee Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more, To get it wouldst thou have me play the whore?

_Mat._ ’Twas your profession before I married you.

_Bell._ Umh? it was indeed: if all men should be branded For sins long since laid up, who could be saved? The quarter-day’s at hand, how will you do To pay the rent, Matheo?

_Mat._ Why? do as all of our occupation do against quarter-days: break up house, remove, shift your lodgings: pox a’ your quarters!

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Where’s this gallant?

_Mat._ Signor Lodovico? how does my little Mirror of Knighthood?[269] this is kindly done i’faith: welcome, by my troth.

[269] An allusion to the well-known romance of this name, from the Spanish.

_Lod._ And how dost, frolic?--Save you fair lady.-- Thou lookest smug and bravely, noble Mat.

_Mat._ Drink and feed, laugh and lie warm.

_Lod._ Is this thy wife?

_Mat._ A poor gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a’nights.

_Lod._ Pay custom to your lips, sweet lady. [_Kisses her._

_Mat._ Borrow some shells[270] of him--some wine, sweetheart.

[270] A cant term for money.

_Lod._ I’ll send for’t then, i’faith.

_Mat._ You send for’t?--Some wine, I prithee.

_Bell._ I ha’ no money.

_Mat._ ’Sblood, nor I.--What wine love you, signor?

_Lod._ Here! (_Offering money_,) or I’ll not stay, I protest; trouble the gentlewoman too much? [_Gives money to_ BELLAFRONT, _who goes out_.

And what news flies abroad, Matheo?

_Mat._ Troth, none. Oh signor, we ha’ been merry in our days.

_Lod._ And no doubt shall again. The divine powers never shoot darts at men Mortal, to kill them.

_Mat._ You say true.

_Lod._ Why should we grieve at want? Say the world made thee Her minion, that thy head lay in her lap, And that she danced thee on her wanton knee, She could but give thee a whole world: that’s all, And that all’s nothing; the world’s greatest part Cannot fill up one corner of thy heart. Say three corners were all filled, alas! Of what art thou possessed, a thin blown glass: Such as is by boys puffed into the air. Were twenty kingdoms thine, thou’dst live in care: Thou couldst not sleep the better, nor live longer, Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger. If, then, thou want’st, thus make that want thy pleasure, No man wants all things, nor has all in measure.

_Mat._ I am the most wretched fellow: sure some left-handed priest hath christened me, I am so unlucky; I am never out of one puddle or another; still falling.

_Re-enter_ BELLAFRONT _with wine_.

Fill out wine to my little finger. With my heart, i’faith. [_Drinks._

_Lod._ Thanks, good Matheo. To your own sweet self. [_Drinks._

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO.

_Orl._ All the brokers’ hearts, sir, are made of flint. I can with all my knocking strike but six sparks of fire out of them; here’s six ducats, if you’ll take them.

_Mat._ Give me them! [_Taking money._] An evil conscience gnaw them all! moths and plagues hang upon their lousy wardrobes!

_Lod._ Is this your man, Matheo?

_Mat._ An old serving-man.

_Orl._ You may give me t’other half too, sir, that’s the beggar.

_Lod._ What hast there,--gold?

_Mat._ A sort of rascals are in my debt, God knows what, and they feed me with bits, with crumbs, a pox choke them.

_Lod._ A word, Matheo; be not angry with me; Believe it that I know the touch of time, And can part copper though it be gilded o’er, From the true gold: the sails which thou dost spread, Would show well if they were not borrowèd. The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither, I give my self unto thee; prithee, use me, I will bestow on you a suit of satin, And all things else to fit a gentleman, Because I love you.

_Mat._ Thanks, good, noble knight!

_Lod._ Call on me when you please; till then farewell. [_Exit._

_Mat._ Hast angled? hast cut up this fresh salmon?

_Bell._ Wouldst have me be so base?

_Mat._ It’s base to steal, its base to be a whore: Thou’lt be more base, I’ll make thee keep a door.[271] [_Exit._

[271] _i.e._ Turn bawd.

_Orl._ I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he?

_Bell._ Thou sees’t he does.

_Orl._ Nay then, it’s well. I set my brains upon an upright last; though my wits be old, yet they are like a withered pippin, wholesome. Look you, mistress, I told him I had but six ducats of the knave broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for you.

_Bell._ Thou should’st have given him all.

_Orl._ What, to fly high?

_Bell._ Like waves, my misery drives on misery. [_Exit._

_Orl._ Sell his wife’s clothes from her back? does any poulterer’s wife pull chickens alive? He riots all abroad, wants all at home: he dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns: I’ll give him hook and line, a little more for all this;

Yet sure i’th end he’ll delude all my hopes, And show me a French trick danced on the ropes. [_Exit._