Seathrift,Mistress Seathrift,MistressHolland,Mistress Scruple.
Sea.I did commit her to your charge, that youMight breed her, Mistress Scruple, and do requireHer at your hand. Here be fine tricks, indeed!My daughter Susan to be stol'n a week,And you conceal it. You were of the plot,I do suspect you.Mis. Scr.Sir, will you but hear me meekly?Sea.No, I'll never trust againA woman with white eyes, that can take notes,And write a comment on the catechism:All your devotion's false. Is't possibleShe could be gone without your knowledge?Mis. Scr.Will youAttend me, Mistress Seathrift? If my husband,To wean her from love-courses, did not takeMore pains with her than with his Tuesday lectures,And if I did not every day expoundSome good things to her 'gainst the sin o' th' flesh,For fear of such temptations, to which frail girlsAre very subject, let me never moreBe thought fit t' instruct young gentlewomenOr deal in tent-stitch. Whoe'er 'twas that seduced her,She took my daughter Emlin's gown and ruff,And left her own clothes; and my scholars say,She often would write letters.Sea.Why, 'tis right:Some silenc'd minister has got her. That IShould breed my daughter in a conventicle!Mis. Sea.Pray, husband, be appeas'd.Sea.You are a fool.Mis. Sea.You hear her mistress could not help it.Sea.Nor your son help being a fish.Mis. Hol.Why, sir, was heThe first that was abus'd by captains?Sea.Go: you talk like prating gossips.Mis. Hol.Gossips! 'slight, what gossips, sir?Mis. Sea.What gossips are we? speak.Sea.I'll tell you, since you'd know. My wife and you,Shrill Mistress Holland, have two tongues, that whenThey're in conjunction, are busier, and makeMore noise than country fairs, and utter more talesThan blind folks, midwifes, nurses. Then no show,Though't be a juggler, 'scapes you: you did followThe Elephant so long, and King of Sweden,That people at last came in to see you. ThenMy son could not be made a fish, but whoShould I find there, much taken with the sight,But you two! I may now build hospitals,Or give my money to plantations.[ExitSeathrift.Mis. Sea.Let's follow him. Come, Mistress Scruple,.Mis. Hol.Just as your Sue left her schoolmistress,My Pen left me.Mis. Scr.They'll come again, I warrant you.[Exeunt.
Sea.I did commit her to your charge, that youMight breed her, Mistress Scruple, and do requireHer at your hand. Here be fine tricks, indeed!My daughter Susan to be stol'n a week,And you conceal it. You were of the plot,I do suspect you.
Mis. Scr.Sir, will you but hear me meekly?
Sea.No, I'll never trust againA woman with white eyes, that can take notes,And write a comment on the catechism:All your devotion's false. Is't possibleShe could be gone without your knowledge?
Mis. Scr.Will youAttend me, Mistress Seathrift? If my husband,To wean her from love-courses, did not takeMore pains with her than with his Tuesday lectures,And if I did not every day expoundSome good things to her 'gainst the sin o' th' flesh,For fear of such temptations, to which frail girlsAre very subject, let me never moreBe thought fit t' instruct young gentlewomenOr deal in tent-stitch. Whoe'er 'twas that seduced her,She took my daughter Emlin's gown and ruff,And left her own clothes; and my scholars say,She often would write letters.
Sea.Why, 'tis right:Some silenc'd minister has got her. That IShould breed my daughter in a conventicle!
Mis. Sea.Pray, husband, be appeas'd.
Sea.You are a fool.
Mis. Sea.You hear her mistress could not help it.
Sea.Nor your son help being a fish.
Mis. Hol.Why, sir, was heThe first that was abus'd by captains?
Sea.Go: you talk like prating gossips.
Mis. Hol.Gossips! 'slight, what gossips, sir?
Mis. Sea.What gossips are we? speak.
Sea.I'll tell you, since you'd know. My wife and you,Shrill Mistress Holland, have two tongues, that whenThey're in conjunction, are busier, and makeMore noise than country fairs, and utter more talesThan blind folks, midwifes, nurses. Then no show,Though't be a juggler, 'scapes you: you did followThe Elephant so long, and King of Sweden,That people at last came in to see you. ThenMy son could not be made a fish, but whoShould I find there, much taken with the sight,But you two! I may now build hospitals,Or give my money to plantations.[ExitSeathrift.
Mis. Sea.Let's follow him. Come, Mistress Scruple,.
Mis. Hol.Just as your Sue left her schoolmistress,My Pen left me.
Mis. Scr.They'll come again, I warrant you.[Exeunt.
Plotwell,Aurelia.
Plot.Sister, 'tis so projected, therefore makeNo more demurs: the life of both our fortunesLies in your carriage of things well. Think thereforeWhether you will restore me, and advanceYour own affairs; or else within this weekFly this your lodging, like uncustom'd sinners,And have your coach-horses transform'd to rent;Have your apparel sold for properties,[244]And you return to cut-work. By this hand,If you refuse, all this must happen.Aur.Well, sir,Necessity, which hath no law, for onceShall make me o' th' conspiracy; and sinceWe are left wholly to our wits, let's showThe power and virtue of 'em. If your BannswrightCan but persuade my uncle, I will fitHim with a bride.Plot.The scene is laid already:I have transform'd an English poet intoA fine French teacher, who shall join your handsWith a most learned legend out of Rab'lais.Aur.But for my true groom who, you say, comes hitherFor a disguis'd knight, I shall think I wedHis father's counting-house, and go to bedTo so much bullion of a man. Faith, I'veNo mind to him: brother, he hath not wit enoughTo make't a lawful marriage.Plot.Y' are deceiv'd:I'll undertake, by one week's tutoring,And carrying him to plays and ordinaries,Engaging him in a quarrel or two, and makingSome captain beat him, to render him a mostAccomplish'd gallant. Or say he be born, sister,Under the city-planet, pray, what wise ladyDesires to match a wise knight? You'd marry somePhilosopher now, that should every nightLie with you out of Aristotle, and looseYour maidenhead by demonstration.Or some great statesman, before whom you must sitAs silent and reserv'd, as if your looksHad plots on foreign princes; and must visitAnd dress yourself by Tacitus. What he wantsIn naturals, his fortunes will make upIn honours, Pen. When he's once made a lord,Who'll be so saucy as to think he canBe impotent in wisdom? She that marriesA fool is an Hermaphrodite; the manAnd wife too, sister. Besides, 'tis now too late;He'll be here presently, and comes prepar'dFor Hymen. I took up a footman for him,And left him under three tiremen's hands, besidesTwo barbers.Aur.Well, sir, I must then accept himWith all his imperfections. I haveProcured a Sir John yonder.Plot.Who is't?Aur.One that preaches the next parish once a weekAsleep for thirty pounds a year.
Plot.Sister, 'tis so projected, therefore makeNo more demurs: the life of both our fortunesLies in your carriage of things well. Think thereforeWhether you will restore me, and advanceYour own affairs; or else within this weekFly this your lodging, like uncustom'd sinners,And have your coach-horses transform'd to rent;Have your apparel sold for properties,[244]And you return to cut-work. By this hand,If you refuse, all this must happen.
Aur.Well, sir,Necessity, which hath no law, for onceShall make me o' th' conspiracy; and sinceWe are left wholly to our wits, let's showThe power and virtue of 'em. If your BannswrightCan but persuade my uncle, I will fitHim with a bride.
Plot.The scene is laid already:I have transform'd an English poet intoA fine French teacher, who shall join your handsWith a most learned legend out of Rab'lais.
Aur.But for my true groom who, you say, comes hitherFor a disguis'd knight, I shall think I wedHis father's counting-house, and go to bedTo so much bullion of a man. Faith, I'veNo mind to him: brother, he hath not wit enoughTo make't a lawful marriage.
Plot.Y' are deceiv'd:I'll undertake, by one week's tutoring,And carrying him to plays and ordinaries,Engaging him in a quarrel or two, and makingSome captain beat him, to render him a mostAccomplish'd gallant. Or say he be born, sister,Under the city-planet, pray, what wise ladyDesires to match a wise knight? You'd marry somePhilosopher now, that should every nightLie with you out of Aristotle, and looseYour maidenhead by demonstration.Or some great statesman, before whom you must sitAs silent and reserv'd, as if your looksHad plots on foreign princes; and must visitAnd dress yourself by Tacitus. What he wantsIn naturals, his fortunes will make upIn honours, Pen. When he's once made a lord,Who'll be so saucy as to think he canBe impotent in wisdom? She that marriesA fool is an Hermaphrodite; the manAnd wife too, sister. Besides, 'tis now too late;He'll be here presently, and comes prepar'dFor Hymen. I took up a footman for him,And left him under three tiremen's hands, besidesTwo barbers.
Aur.Well, sir, I must then accept himWith all his imperfections. I haveProcured a Sir John yonder.
Plot.Who is't?
Aur.One that preaches the next parish once a weekAsleep for thirty pounds a year.
Enter aFootman.
Foot.Here is a knightDesires your ladyship will give him audience.Aur.'Tis no knight ambassador?Foot.He rather looks like a Knight o' th' Sun.Plot.'Tis he.Aur.Let him come in.Plot.If you be coy now, Pen,[ExitFootman.You spoil all.Aur.Well, sir, I'll be affable.
Foot.Here is a knightDesires your ladyship will give him audience.
Aur.'Tis no knight ambassador?
Foot.He rather looks like a Knight o' th' Sun.
Plot.'Tis he.
Aur.Let him come in.
Plot.If you be coy now, Pen,[ExitFootman.You spoil all.
Aur.Well, sir, I'll be affable.
EnterTimothyfantastically dressed, and aFootman.
Plot.Here he comes!Tim.Sirrah, wait me in the hall,And let your feet stink there: your air's not fitTo be endured by ladies.Plot.What! quarrel with your footman, sir?Tim.Hang him, he casts a scentThat drowns my perfumes, and is strong enoughTo cure the mother of palsy. Do I actA knight well?Plot.This imperiousness becomes you,Like a knight newly dubb'd, sir.Tim.What says the lady?Plot.Speak lower. I have prepar'd her; show yourselfA courtier: now she's yours!Tim.If that be all,I'll court her as if some courtier had begot meI' th' gallery at a masque.Plot.Madam, this gentlemanDesires to kiss your hands.Tim.And lips too, lady.Aur.Sir, you much honour both.Tim.I know that,Else I'd not kiss you. Yesterday I wasIn company with ladies, and they allLong'd to be touch'd by me.Aur.You cannot cureThe evil, sir; nor have your lips the virtueTo restore ruins, or make old ladies young?Tim.Faith, all the virtue that they have is, thatMy lips are knighted. I am born, sweet lady,To a poor fortune, that will keep myselfAnd footman, as you see, to bear my swordIn cuerpo[245]after me. I can at court,If I would, show my gilt[246]i' th' presence; lookAfter the rate of some five thousandsYearly in old rents; and, were my father onceWell wrapp'd in sear-cloth, I could fine for sheriff.Plot.Heart! you spoil all.[Aside.Tim.Why?Plot.She verily believ'd y' had ne'er a father.[Aside.Aur.Lives your father then, sir?That gentleman told me he was dead.Tim.'Tis true,I had forgot myself: he was drowned, lady,This morning, as he went to take possessionOf a summer-house and land in the Canaries.Plot.Now y' have recovered all.Tim.D' you think I haveNot wit enough to lie?[Aside.Plot.Break your mind to her;She does expect it.Tim.But, lady, this is notThe business which I came for.Aur.I'm at leisureTo hear your business, sir.Plot.Mark that!Tim.Indeed,Sweet lady, I've a motion which was onceOr twice this morning in my mouth, and thenSlipp'd back again for fear.Aur.Cowards ne'er wonLadies or forts, sir.Tim.Say then I should feelSome motions, lady, of affection, mightA man repair Paul's with his heart, or put itInto a tinder-box?Aur.How mean you, sir?Tim.Why, is your heart a stone or flint?Aur.Be plain, sir, I understand you not.Tim.Not understand me?Y'are the [first] lady that e'er put a manTo speak plain English: some would understandRiddles and signs. Say, I should love you, lady!Aur.There should be no love lost, sir.Tim.Say you so?Then, by this air, my teeth e'en water at you:I long to have some offspring by you. WeShall have an excellent breed of wits:I mean my youngest son shall be a poet; andMy daughters, like their mother, every oneA wench o' th' game. And for my eldest son,He shall be like me, and inherit. ThereforeLet's not defer our joys, but go to bedAnd multiply.Aur.Soft, sir, the priest must firstDischarge his office. I do not[247]mean to marry,
Plot.Here he comes!
Tim.Sirrah, wait me in the hall,And let your feet stink there: your air's not fitTo be endured by ladies.
Plot.What! quarrel with your footman, sir?
Tim.Hang him, he casts a scentThat drowns my perfumes, and is strong enoughTo cure the mother of palsy. Do I actA knight well?
Plot.This imperiousness becomes you,Like a knight newly dubb'd, sir.
Tim.What says the lady?
Plot.Speak lower. I have prepar'd her; show yourselfA courtier: now she's yours!
Tim.If that be all,I'll court her as if some courtier had begot meI' th' gallery at a masque.
Plot.Madam, this gentlemanDesires to kiss your hands.
Tim.And lips too, lady.
Aur.Sir, you much honour both.
Tim.I know that,Else I'd not kiss you. Yesterday I wasIn company with ladies, and they allLong'd to be touch'd by me.
Aur.You cannot cureThe evil, sir; nor have your lips the virtueTo restore ruins, or make old ladies young?
Tim.Faith, all the virtue that they have is, thatMy lips are knighted. I am born, sweet lady,To a poor fortune, that will keep myselfAnd footman, as you see, to bear my swordIn cuerpo[245]after me. I can at court,If I would, show my gilt[246]i' th' presence; lookAfter the rate of some five thousandsYearly in old rents; and, were my father onceWell wrapp'd in sear-cloth, I could fine for sheriff.
Plot.Heart! you spoil all.[Aside.
Tim.Why?
Plot.She verily believ'd y' had ne'er a father.[Aside.
Aur.Lives your father then, sir?That gentleman told me he was dead.
Tim.'Tis true,I had forgot myself: he was drowned, lady,This morning, as he went to take possessionOf a summer-house and land in the Canaries.
Plot.Now y' have recovered all.
Tim.D' you think I haveNot wit enough to lie?[Aside.
Plot.Break your mind to her;She does expect it.
Tim.But, lady, this is notThe business which I came for.
Aur.I'm at leisureTo hear your business, sir.
Plot.Mark that!
Tim.Indeed,Sweet lady, I've a motion which was onceOr twice this morning in my mouth, and thenSlipp'd back again for fear.
Aur.Cowards ne'er wonLadies or forts, sir.
Tim.Say then I should feelSome motions, lady, of affection, mightA man repair Paul's with his heart, or put itInto a tinder-box?
Aur.How mean you, sir?
Tim.Why, is your heart a stone or flint?
Aur.Be plain, sir, I understand you not.
Tim.Not understand me?Y'are the [first] lady that e'er put a manTo speak plain English: some would understandRiddles and signs. Say, I should love you, lady!
Aur.There should be no love lost, sir.
Tim.Say you so?Then, by this air, my teeth e'en water at you:I long to have some offspring by you. WeShall have an excellent breed of wits:I mean my youngest son shall be a poet; andMy daughters, like their mother, every oneA wench o' th' game. And for my eldest son,He shall be like me, and inherit. ThereforeLet's not defer our joys, but go to bedAnd multiply.
Aur.Soft, sir, the priest must firstDischarge his office. I do not[247]mean to marry,
EnterDorcasout of her Puritan dress.
Like ladies in New England, where they coupleWith no more ceremony than birds choose their mateUpon St Valentine's day.Dor.Madam, the preacherIs sent for to a churching, and doth askIf you be ready: he shall lose, he says,His chrysome[248]else.Aur.O miracle! out ofYour little ruff, Dorcas, and in the fashion!Dost thou hope to be saved?Dor.Pray, madam, do notAbuse me; I will tell you more anon.Plot.Tell him she's coming.Aur.Sir, please you, partakeOf a slight banquet?[ExitDorcas.Plot.Just as you are sat,I'll steal the priest in.Tim.Do.Plot.When you are join'd,Be sure you do not oversee, but straightRetire to bed: she'll follow.'Tis not three o'clock i' th' afternoon.Tim.'Tis but drawingYour curtains, and you do create your night.All times to lovers and new-married folksMay be made dark.Tim.I will, then. By this room,She's a rare lady! I do almost wishI could change sex, and that she might begetChildren on me.Plot.Nay, will you enter?Tim.Lady,Pray, will you show the way?Plot.Most city-like!'Slid, take her by the arm, and lead her in.Tim.Your arm, sweet lady.[Exeunt.
Like ladies in New England, where they coupleWith no more ceremony than birds choose their mateUpon St Valentine's day.
Dor.Madam, the preacherIs sent for to a churching, and doth askIf you be ready: he shall lose, he says,His chrysome[248]else.
Aur.O miracle! out ofYour little ruff, Dorcas, and in the fashion!Dost thou hope to be saved?
Dor.Pray, madam, do notAbuse me; I will tell you more anon.
Plot.Tell him she's coming.
Aur.Sir, please you, partakeOf a slight banquet?[ExitDorcas.
Plot.Just as you are sat,I'll steal the priest in.
Tim.Do.
Plot.When you are join'd,Be sure you do not oversee, but straightRetire to bed: she'll follow.'Tis not three o'clock i' th' afternoon.
Tim.'Tis but drawingYour curtains, and you do create your night.All times to lovers and new-married folksMay be made dark.
Tim.I will, then. By this room,She's a rare lady! I do almost wishI could change sex, and that she might begetChildren on me.
Plot.Nay, will you enter?
Tim.Lady,Pray, will you show the way?
Plot.Most city-like!'Slid, take her by the arm, and lead her in.
Tim.Your arm, sweet lady.[Exeunt.
Bright,Newcut.
Bright.But are you sure they're they?New.I'll not believeMy treacherous eyes again, but trust some dogTo guide me, if I did not see his uncleComing this way, and Bannswright with him.Bright.Who?The fellow that brings love to banns, and bannsTo bare thighs 'bout the town?New.The very same, sir;The City-Cupid, that shoots arrows betwixtParty and party. All the difference is,He has his eyes, but they he brings togetherSometimes do not see one another, tillThey meet i' th' church.Bright.What say you now, if WarehouseShould in displeasure marry?New.'Tis so; this fellowIn's company confirms me. 'Tis the very business,Why Plotwell has sent for us.Bright.Here they come:Prythee, let's stand and overhear 'em.New.Stand close, then.
Bright.But are you sure they're they?
New.I'll not believeMy treacherous eyes again, but trust some dogTo guide me, if I did not see his uncleComing this way, and Bannswright with him.
Bright.Who?The fellow that brings love to banns, and bannsTo bare thighs 'bout the town?
New.The very same, sir;The City-Cupid, that shoots arrows betwixtParty and party. All the difference is,He has his eyes, but they he brings togetherSometimes do not see one another, tillThey meet i' th' church.
Bright.What say you now, if WarehouseShould in displeasure marry?
New.'Tis so; this fellowIn's company confirms me. 'Tis the very business,Why Plotwell has sent for us.
Bright.Here they come:Prythee, let's stand and overhear 'em.
New.Stand close, then.
EnterWarehouse,Bannswright.
Ware.Madam Aurelia is her name?Ban.Her fatherWas, sir, an Irish baron, that undidHimself by housekeeping.Ware.As for her birth,I could wish it were meaner: as many knightsAnd justices of peace as have been ofThe family are reckoned into the portion.She'll still be naming of her ancestors,Ask jointure by the herald's book, and I,That have no coat, nor can show azure lionsIn fields of argent, shall be scorn'd; she'll thinkHer honour wrong'd to match a man that hathNo 'scutcheons but them of his company,Which once a year do serve to trim a lighterTo Westminster and back again.Ban.You are mistaken, sir. This lady, as she isDescended of a great house, so she hathNo dowry but her arms: she can bring onlySome libbards'[249]heads or strange beasts which, you know,Being but beasts, let them derive themselvesFrom monsters in the globe, and lineallyProceed from Hercules' labours, they will neverAdvance her to a husband equal toHerself in birth, that can give beasts too. SheAims only to match one that can maintainHer some way to her state. She is possess'd,What streams of gold you flow in, sir.Ware.But can sheAffect my age?Ban.I ask'd her that, and told herYou were about some threescore, sir, and ten;But were as lusty as one of twenty, or[Aside.An aged eunuch.Ware.And what replied she?Ban.She,Like a true Lucrece, answer'd it was fitFor them to marry by the church-book, whoCame there to cool themselves; but to a mindChaste, and endued with virtue, age did turnLove into reverence.Bright.Or sir-reverence.[Aside.New.Prythee, observe.Ware.Is she so virtuous, then?Ban.'Tis all the fault she has: she will outprayA preacher at St Antlin's, and dividesThe day in exercise. I did commendA great precisian to her for her woman,Who tells me that her lady makes her quiltHer smocks before for kneeling.Ware.Excellent creature!Ban.Then, sir, she is so modest.Ware.Too?Ban.The leastObscene word shames her; a lascivious figureMakes her do penance, and she maintains the law,Which forbids fornication, doth extendTo kissing too.Ware.I think the time an age,Till the solemnity be pass'd.Ban.I havePrepar'd her, sir, and have so set you out!Besides, I told her how you had cast offYour nephew; and, to leave no doubt that youWould e'er be reconcil'd, before she wentTo church, would settle your estate on herAnd on the heirs of her begotten.Ware.To make all sure,We'll call upon my lawyer by the way,And take him with us.Ban.You must be married, sir,At the French church: I have bespoke the priest;One that will join you i' th' right Geneva form,Without a licence.Ware.But may a manWed in a strange tongue?Ban.I have brought togetherSome in Italian, sir; the language dothNot change the substance of the match; you knowNo licence will be granted; all the officesAre beforehand brib'd by your nephew.Ware.Well,Let's to the lady straight. To cross him, IWould marry an Arabian, and be at chargeTo keep one to interpret, or be marriedIn China language, or the tongue that's spokeBy the Great Cham.[ExeuntWarehouseandBannswright.Bright.Now, Newcut, you perceiveMy divination's true; this fellow didPortend a wedding.New.Plague o' th' prognostication!Who'd think that madam were the party?Bright.O sir,She'll call this wit, to wed his bags and lieWith some Platonic servant.New.What if we,Before we go to Plotwell, went to her,And strived to dissuade her?Bright.Let's make haste,They'll be before us, else.[Exeunt.
Ware.Madam Aurelia is her name?
Ban.Her fatherWas, sir, an Irish baron, that undidHimself by housekeeping.
Ware.As for her birth,I could wish it were meaner: as many knightsAnd justices of peace as have been ofThe family are reckoned into the portion.She'll still be naming of her ancestors,Ask jointure by the herald's book, and I,That have no coat, nor can show azure lionsIn fields of argent, shall be scorn'd; she'll thinkHer honour wrong'd to match a man that hathNo 'scutcheons but them of his company,Which once a year do serve to trim a lighterTo Westminster and back again.
Ban.You are mistaken, sir. This lady, as she isDescended of a great house, so she hathNo dowry but her arms: she can bring onlySome libbards'[249]heads or strange beasts which, you know,Being but beasts, let them derive themselvesFrom monsters in the globe, and lineallyProceed from Hercules' labours, they will neverAdvance her to a husband equal toHerself in birth, that can give beasts too. SheAims only to match one that can maintainHer some way to her state. She is possess'd,What streams of gold you flow in, sir.
Ware.But can sheAffect my age?
Ban.I ask'd her that, and told herYou were about some threescore, sir, and ten;But were as lusty as one of twenty, or[Aside.An aged eunuch.
Ware.And what replied she?
Ban.She,Like a true Lucrece, answer'd it was fitFor them to marry by the church-book, whoCame there to cool themselves; but to a mindChaste, and endued with virtue, age did turnLove into reverence.
Bright.Or sir-reverence.[Aside.
New.Prythee, observe.
Ware.Is she so virtuous, then?
Ban.'Tis all the fault she has: she will outprayA preacher at St Antlin's, and dividesThe day in exercise. I did commendA great precisian to her for her woman,Who tells me that her lady makes her quiltHer smocks before for kneeling.
Ware.Excellent creature!
Ban.Then, sir, she is so modest.
Ware.Too?
Ban.The leastObscene word shames her; a lascivious figureMakes her do penance, and she maintains the law,Which forbids fornication, doth extendTo kissing too.
Ware.I think the time an age,Till the solemnity be pass'd.
Ban.I havePrepar'd her, sir, and have so set you out!Besides, I told her how you had cast offYour nephew; and, to leave no doubt that youWould e'er be reconcil'd, before she wentTo church, would settle your estate on herAnd on the heirs of her begotten.
Ware.To make all sure,We'll call upon my lawyer by the way,And take him with us.
Ban.You must be married, sir,At the French church: I have bespoke the priest;One that will join you i' th' right Geneva form,Without a licence.
Ware.But may a manWed in a strange tongue?
Ban.I have brought togetherSome in Italian, sir; the language dothNot change the substance of the match; you knowNo licence will be granted; all the officesAre beforehand brib'd by your nephew.
Ware.Well,Let's to the lady straight. To cross him, IWould marry an Arabian, and be at chargeTo keep one to interpret, or be marriedIn China language, or the tongue that's spokeBy the Great Cham.[ExeuntWarehouseandBannswright.
Bright.Now, Newcut, you perceiveMy divination's true; this fellow didPortend a wedding.
New.Plague o' th' prognostication!Who'd think that madam were the party?
Bright.O sir,She'll call this wit, to wed his bags and lieWith some Platonic servant.
New.What if we,Before we go to Plotwell, went to her,And strived to dissuade her?
Bright.Let's make haste,They'll be before us, else.[Exeunt.
EnterTimothyunbuttoning himself;Aurelia,Plotwell,Dorcas,Footman.
Tim.By this hand, lady, you shall not deny me:Since we are coupled, I shall think the priestHas not done all, as long as I'm a virgin.Aur.Will you not stay till night, sir?Tim.Night! No, faith;I've sworn to get my first child by day: you mayBe quick by night.Plot.Madam, your knight speaks reason.Tim.I will both speak and do it.Aur.Well, sir, sinceThere is no remedy, your bed's prepar'd;By that time you are laid, I'll come. Meantime,I'll pray that gentleman to conduct you. There'sMy footman to pluck off your stockings.Plot.Come, sir.Tim.Sweet lady, stay not long.Plot.I'll promise for her.
Tim.By this hand, lady, you shall not deny me:Since we are coupled, I shall think the priestHas not done all, as long as I'm a virgin.
Aur.Will you not stay till night, sir?
Tim.Night! No, faith;I've sworn to get my first child by day: you mayBe quick by night.
Plot.Madam, your knight speaks reason.
Tim.I will both speak and do it.
Aur.Well, sir, sinceThere is no remedy, your bed's prepar'd;By that time you are laid, I'll come. Meantime,I'll pray that gentleman to conduct you. There'sMy footman to pluck off your stockings.
Plot.Come, sir.
Tim.Sweet lady, stay not long.
Plot.I'll promise for her.
[ExeuntTimothy,Plotwell, andFootman.
Dor.Faith, I admire your temperance, to letYour bridegroom go to bed, and you not follow.Were I in your case, I should ha' gone first,And warm'd his place.Aur.Well, wench; but that thou hastReveal'd thyself unto me, I'd admireTo hear a saint talk thus. To one that knows notThe mystery of thy strange conversion, thouWouldst seem a legend.Dor.Faith, I've told you all,Both why I left my schoolmistress, who taught meTo confute curling-irons, and why I putMyself on this adventure.Aur.Well, wench, my brotherHas had his plots on me, and I'll contributeMy help to work thy honest ones on him:Do but perform thy task well, and thou winn'sthim.Dor.Let me alone; never was man so fittedWith a chaste bride, as I will fit his uncle.
Dor.Faith, I admire your temperance, to letYour bridegroom go to bed, and you not follow.Were I in your case, I should ha' gone first,And warm'd his place.
Aur.Well, wench; but that thou hastReveal'd thyself unto me, I'd admireTo hear a saint talk thus. To one that knows notThe mystery of thy strange conversion, thouWouldst seem a legend.
Dor.Faith, I've told you all,Both why I left my schoolmistress, who taught meTo confute curling-irons, and why I putMyself on this adventure.
Aur.Well, wench, my brotherHas had his plots on me, and I'll contributeMy help to work thy honest ones on him:Do but perform thy task well, and thou winn'sthim.
Dor.Let me alone; never was man so fittedWith a chaste bride, as I will fit his uncle.
EnterFootman.
Foot.Madam, your knight doth call most fiercely for you.[Exit.Aur.[to Dorc.] Prythee, go tell him some business keeps me yet,And bid him stay himself with this kiss.
Foot.Madam, your knight doth call most fiercely for you.[Exit.
Aur.[to Dorc.] Prythee, go tell him some business keeps me yet,And bid him stay himself with this kiss.
As they kiss, enterBright,Newcut.
Bright.By your leave, madam! What, for practice' sake,Kissing your woman? Lord, how a lady's lipsHate idleness, and will be busied whenThe rest lies fallow! and rather than want action,Be kind within themselves, an't be t' enjoyBut the poor pleasure of contemplation.New.And how do you find her, madam?Aur.Stay, wench.New.Lord!Does it not grieve you now, and make you sigh,And very passionately accuse nature,And say she was too hard to make your womanAble to kiss you only, and do no more?Bright.Is it not pity, but, besides the giftOf making caudles, and using of her pencil,She had the trick o' th' other sex?Aur.MethinksYour own good breeding might instruct you thatMy house is not a new foundation, whereYou might, paying the rate, approach, be rude,Give freedom to your unwash'd mouths.Dor.My ladyKeeps no poor nuns, that sin for victuals, for you,With whom this dead vacation[250]you may tradeFor old silk stockings and half-shirts. They sayYou do offend o' th' score, and sin in chalk,[251]And the dumb walls complain you are behindIn pension;[252]so that your distressed vestalsAre fain to foot their stockings, pay the brewerAnd landlord's rent in woman-kind, and longMore earnestly for the term than Norfolk lawyers.Bright.Why, you have got a second, lady: your womanDoth speak good country language.New.Offers at wit, and shows teeth for a jest.Bright.We hear you are to marry an old citizen.Aur.Then surely you were not deaf.New.And do you mean his age—Which hath seen all the kingdom buried thrice,To whom the heat of August is December.[ExitDorcas.Who, were he but in Italy, would saveThe charge of marble vaults, and cool the airBetter than ventiducts—shall freeze betweenYour melting arms? Do but consider, heBut marries you as he would do his furs,To keep him warm.Aur.But he is rich, sir.Bright.Then,In wedding him you wed more infirmitiesThan ever Galen wrote of: he has painsThat put the doctors to new experiments.Half his diseases in the city billKill hundreds weekly: alone [an] hospitalWere but enough for him.New.Besides,He has a cough that nightly drowns the bellman;Calls up his family; all his neighbours rise,And go by it, as by the chimes and clock.Not four loam walls, nor sawdust put between,Can dead it.Aur.Yet he is still rich.Bright.If thisCannot affright you, but that you will needsBe blind to wholesome counsel, and will marryOne who, by th' course of nature, ought t' have beenRotten before the queen's time, and in justiceShould now have been some threescore years a ghost,Let pity move you. In this match you quiteDestroy the hopes and fortunes of a gentleman,For whom, had his penurious uncle starv'd,And pin'd himself his whole life, to increaseThe riches he deserves t' inherit, itHad been his duty.Aur.You mean his nephew Plotwell?A prodigal young man: one whom the goodOld man, his uncle, kept to th' inns-of-court,And would in time ha' made him barrister,And rais'd him to his satin cap and biggon,[253]In which he might ha' sold his breath far dearer,And let his tongue out at a greater priceThan some their manors. But he did neglectThese thriving means, followed his loose companions,His Brights and Newcuts—two, they say, that liveBy the new heresy, Platonic love;Can take up silks upon their strengths, and payTheir mercer with an infant.[254]Bright.Newcut!New.Ay, I do observe her character. Well, then,You are resolved to marry?Aur.Were the manA statue, so it were a golden one,I'd have him.Bright.Pray, then, take along to churchThese few good wishes. May your husband proveSo jealous to suspect that, when you drinkTo any man, you kiss the place where hisLips were before, and so pledge meetings: let himThink you do cuckold him by looks; and let himEach night, before you go to rest, administerA solemn oath, that all your thoughts were chasteThat day, and that you sleep with all your hairs.New.And, which is worse, let him forget he layWith you himself; before some magistrateSwear 'twas some other, and have it believ'dUpon record.
Bright.By your leave, madam! What, for practice' sake,Kissing your woman? Lord, how a lady's lipsHate idleness, and will be busied whenThe rest lies fallow! and rather than want action,Be kind within themselves, an't be t' enjoyBut the poor pleasure of contemplation.
New.And how do you find her, madam?
Aur.Stay, wench.
New.Lord!Does it not grieve you now, and make you sigh,And very passionately accuse nature,And say she was too hard to make your womanAble to kiss you only, and do no more?
Bright.Is it not pity, but, besides the giftOf making caudles, and using of her pencil,She had the trick o' th' other sex?
Aur.MethinksYour own good breeding might instruct you thatMy house is not a new foundation, whereYou might, paying the rate, approach, be rude,Give freedom to your unwash'd mouths.
Dor.My ladyKeeps no poor nuns, that sin for victuals, for you,With whom this dead vacation[250]you may tradeFor old silk stockings and half-shirts. They sayYou do offend o' th' score, and sin in chalk,[251]And the dumb walls complain you are behindIn pension;[252]so that your distressed vestalsAre fain to foot their stockings, pay the brewerAnd landlord's rent in woman-kind, and longMore earnestly for the term than Norfolk lawyers.
Bright.Why, you have got a second, lady: your womanDoth speak good country language.
New.Offers at wit, and shows teeth for a jest.
Bright.We hear you are to marry an old citizen.
Aur.Then surely you were not deaf.
New.And do you mean his age—Which hath seen all the kingdom buried thrice,To whom the heat of August is December.[ExitDorcas.Who, were he but in Italy, would saveThe charge of marble vaults, and cool the airBetter than ventiducts—shall freeze betweenYour melting arms? Do but consider, heBut marries you as he would do his furs,To keep him warm.
Aur.But he is rich, sir.
Bright.Then,In wedding him you wed more infirmitiesThan ever Galen wrote of: he has painsThat put the doctors to new experiments.Half his diseases in the city billKill hundreds weekly: alone [an] hospitalWere but enough for him.
New.Besides,He has a cough that nightly drowns the bellman;Calls up his family; all his neighbours rise,And go by it, as by the chimes and clock.Not four loam walls, nor sawdust put between,Can dead it.
Aur.Yet he is still rich.
Bright.If thisCannot affright you, but that you will needsBe blind to wholesome counsel, and will marryOne who, by th' course of nature, ought t' have beenRotten before the queen's time, and in justiceShould now have been some threescore years a ghost,Let pity move you. In this match you quiteDestroy the hopes and fortunes of a gentleman,For whom, had his penurious uncle starv'd,And pin'd himself his whole life, to increaseThe riches he deserves t' inherit, itHad been his duty.
Aur.You mean his nephew Plotwell?A prodigal young man: one whom the goodOld man, his uncle, kept to th' inns-of-court,And would in time ha' made him barrister,And rais'd him to his satin cap and biggon,[253]In which he might ha' sold his breath far dearer,And let his tongue out at a greater priceThan some their manors. But he did neglectThese thriving means, followed his loose companions,His Brights and Newcuts—two, they say, that liveBy the new heresy, Platonic love;Can take up silks upon their strengths, and payTheir mercer with an infant.[254]
Bright.Newcut!
New.Ay, I do observe her character. Well, then,You are resolved to marry?
Aur.Were the manA statue, so it were a golden one,I'd have him.
Bright.Pray, then, take along to churchThese few good wishes. May your husband proveSo jealous to suspect that, when you drinkTo any man, you kiss the place where hisLips were before, and so pledge meetings: let himThink you do cuckold him by looks; and let himEach night, before you go to rest, administerA solemn oath, that all your thoughts were chasteThat day, and that you sleep with all your hairs.
New.And, which is worse, let him forget he layWith you himself; before some magistrateSwear 'twas some other, and have it believ'dUpon record.
EnterPlotwell.
Plot.Sister, I've left your bridegroomUnder this key lock'd in, t' embrace your pillow.Sure, he has ate eringoes, he's as hot—He was about to fetch you in his shirt.Bright.How's this? His sister!New.I conceive not this.Plot.My noble friends, you wonder now to hearMe call her sister.Bright.Faith, sir, we wonder moreShe should be married.New.If't be your sister, weHave labour'd her she should not match her uncle,And bring forth riddles: children that should beNephews to their father, and to their uncle sons.Plot.I laugh now at your ignorance: why, theseAre projects, gentlemen: fine gins and projects.Did Roseclap's boy come to you?Bright.Yes.Plot.I haveA rare scene for you.New.The boy told us you wereUpon a stratagem.Plot.I've sent for RoseclapAnd Captain Quartfield to be here: I havePut Salewit into orders; he's inductedInto the French Church: you must all have parts.Bright.Prythee, speak out of clouds.Plot.By this good light,'Twere justice now to let you both die simpleFor leaving us so scurvily.New.We wereSent for in haste by th' benchers to contributeTo one of 'em that's Reader.[255]Plot.Come with me;I'll tell you then. But first I'll show you a sightMuch stranger than the fish.
Plot.Sister, I've left your bridegroomUnder this key lock'd in, t' embrace your pillow.Sure, he has ate eringoes, he's as hot—He was about to fetch you in his shirt.
Bright.How's this? His sister!
New.I conceive not this.
Plot.My noble friends, you wonder now to hearMe call her sister.
Bright.Faith, sir, we wonder moreShe should be married.
New.If't be your sister, weHave labour'd her she should not match her uncle,And bring forth riddles: children that should beNephews to their father, and to their uncle sons.
Plot.I laugh now at your ignorance: why, theseAre projects, gentlemen: fine gins and projects.Did Roseclap's boy come to you?
Bright.Yes.
Plot.I haveA rare scene for you.
New.The boy told us you wereUpon a stratagem.
Plot.I've sent for RoseclapAnd Captain Quartfield to be here: I havePut Salewit into orders; he's inductedInto the French Church: you must all have parts.
Bright.Prythee, speak out of clouds.
Plot.By this good light,'Twere justice now to let you both die simpleFor leaving us so scurvily.
New.We wereSent for in haste by th' benchers to contributeTo one of 'em that's Reader.[255]
Plot.Come with me;I'll tell you then. But first I'll show you a sightMuch stranger than the fish.
EnterDorcas.