SCENE IV.--_A Room in_ Sir Harry’s _House_.

_Enter_ Sir Boniface, _and_ Taber _carrying a trencher of broken meat and a napkin_.

Taber. Fie, fie, what a time of trouble is this! To-morrow is my mistress to be married, and we serving-men are so puzzled.

Sir Boniface. The dinner’s half done, and before I say grace, And bid the old knight and his guest proface.[4.51] A medicine from your trencher, good Master Taber, As good a man as e’er was Sir Saber: Well, think it no shame: men of learning and wit Say study gets a stomach; friend Taber, a bit.

Taber. Lick clean, good Sir Boniface, and save the scraper a labour.

_Enter_ Sencer _like a_ Serving-man.

Sir Boniface. But soft, let me ponder: Know you him that comes yonder?

Taber. Most heartily welcome; would you speak with any here?

Sencer. Pray is the young gentleman of the house at leisure?

Taber. Mean you the bridegroom, Master Chartley?

Sencer. I have a letter for him. You seem to be a gentleman yourself; acquaint him with my attendance, and I shall rest yours in all good offices.

Taber. Sir Boniface, pray keep the gentleman company. I will first acquaint your lips with the virtue of the cellar. [_Exit_.

Sir Boniface. _Adesdem_, come near, and taste of our beer. Welcome, _sine dole_, for _puntis te vole_.

Sencer. When I taste of your liquor, Gramercy, Master Vicar.

_Re-enter_ Taber _with a bowl of beer and a napkin_.

Taber. Most heartily welcome: your courtesy, I beseech you; ply it off, I entreat you. Pray, Sir Boniface, keep the gentleman company, till I acquaint my young master with his business. [_Exit_.

Sir Boniface. Taber, I shall _beso las manus_.[4.52]

[_They dissemble one to another_.

Sencer. _A vostre servitor_.

_Enter_ Haringfield.

Haringfield. Hey! what art thou?

Sencer. A hanger-on, if it please you.

Haringfield. And I a shaker-off: I’ll not bear your gallows; You shall not hang on me. [_Enter_ Young Chartley _with his napkin as from dinner_.] Oh, Master Bridegroom!

Young Chartley. Gentlemen, the ladies call upon you to dance; they will be out of measure displeased, if, dinner being done, you be not ready to lead them a measure.

Haringfield. Indeed, women love not to be scanted of their measure.

Young Chartley. Fie, Sir Boniface! have you forgot yourself? Whilst you are in the hall, there’s never a whetstone for their wits in the parlour.

Sir Boniface. I will enter and set an edge upon their ingenies.

[_Exeunt_ Sir Boniface _and_ Haringfield.

Young Chartley. [_To_ Sencer, _who hands him a letter_.] To me, sir! from whom? A letter! To her “most dear, most loving, most kind friend Master Chartley, these be delivered.” Sure from some wench or other. I long to know the content.

Sencer. [_Aside_.] Now to cry quittance with you for my “farewell, learned Sir Timothy.”

Young Chartley. Good news, as I live! there’s for thy pains, my good Sir Pandarus.[4.53] Hadst thou brought me word my father had turned up his heels, thou couldst scarcely have pleased me better. [_Reads_.] “Though I disclaim the name of wife, of which I account myself altogether unworthy, yet let me claim some small interest in your love. This night I lie at the house where we were married--the Wise-Woman’s I mean--where my maidenhead is to be rifled: bid fair for it, and enjoy it; see me this night or never. So may you, marrying Gratiana, and loving me, have a sweet wife and a true friend. This night or never. Your _quondam_ wife, hereafter your poor sweetheart, no other, Luce.” So, when I am tired with Gratiana, that is when I am past grace with her, I can make my rendezvous. I’ll not slip this occasion, nor sleep till I see her. Thou art an honest lad, and mayst prove a good pimp in time. Canst thou advise me what colour[4.54] I may have to compass this commodity?

Sencer. Sir, she this night expects you, and prepares a costly banquet for you.

Young Chartley. I’ll go, although the devil and mischance look big.

Sencer. Feign some news that such a piece of land is fallen to you, and you must instantly ride to take possession of it; or, which is more probable, cannot you persuade them you have received a letter that your father lies a-dying?

Young Chartley. You rogue, I would he did; but the name of that news is called “too good to be true.”

Sencer. And that if ever you will see him alive, you must ride post into the country?

Young Chartley. Enough: if ever I prove knight-errant thou shalt be mine own proper squire. For this, thou hast fitted me with a plot. Do but wait here; note how I will manage it.--Taber, my horse, for I must ride to-night.

_Re-enter_ Taber.

Taber. To-night, sir!

Young Chartley. So tell my bride and father: I have news that quite confounds my senses.

[_Exit_ Taber.

_Enter_ Sir Harry, Gratiana, _and_ Haringfield.

Gratiana. How, ride to-night! the marriage day to-morrow, And all things well provided for the feast! Oh, tell me, sweet, why do you look so pale?

Young Chartley. My father, O my father!

Gratiana. What of him?

Sir Harry. What of your father, son?

Young Chartley. If ever I will hear his agèd tongue Preach to me counsel, or his palsy hand Stroke my wild head and bless me, or his eyes Drop tear by tear, which they have often done At my misgoverned rioting youth-- What should I more?--if ever I would see That good old man alive--Oh, oh!

Sencer. [_Aside_.] Go thy ways, for thou shalt ha’t.

Gratiana. But do you mean to ride?

Young Chartley. Ay, Grace, all this night.

Sencer. [_Aside_.] Not all the night without alighting, sure: You’ll find more in’t than to get up and ride.

Haringfield. The gentleman’s riding-boots and spurs. Why, Taber!

Young Chartley. Nay, Grace, now’s no time to stand on scrupulous parting. Knewest thou my business--

Sencer. [_Aside_.] As she shall know it.

Young Chartley. And how I mean this night to toil myself--

Sencer. [_Aside_.] Marry hang, you brock[4.55]!

Young Chartley. Thou wouldst bemoan my travel.

Sencer. [_Aside_.] I know ’twould grieve her.

Young Chartley. You, father, Grace, good Master Haringfield, You, sir, and all, pray for me, gentlemen, That in this dark night’s journey I may find Smooth way, sweet speed, and all things to my mind.

Sir Harry. We’ll see my son take horse.

Gratiana. But I will stay: I want the heart to see him post away.

[_Exeunt_ Young Chartley, Sir Harry _and_ Haringfield.

Sencer. Save you, gentlewoman! I have a message to deliver to one Mistress Gratiana; this should be the knight’s house, her father.

Gratiana. It is: the message that you have to her You may acquaint me with, for I am one That knows the inside of her thoughts.

Sencer. Are you the lady?

Gratiana. Sir, I am the poor gentlewoman.

Sencer. There is a cunning woman dwells not far, At Hogsdon, lady, famous for her skill. Besides some private talk that much concerns Your fortunes in your love, she hath to show you, This night, if it shall please you walk so far As to her house, an admirable suit Of costly needlework, which if you please You may buy under-rate for half the value It cost the making; about six o’clock You may have view thereof, but otherwise, A lady that hath craved the sight thereof Must have the first refusal.

Gratiana. I’ll not fail her. My husband being this day rid from home, My leisure fitly serves me.

Sencer. Thank you, mistress. At six o’clock.

Gratiana. I will not fail the hour. [_Exit_.

Sencer. Now to Sir Harry; his is the next place, To meet at Hogsdon his fair daughter Grace. [_Exit_.

ACT THE FIFTH.