Plotwell,Aurelia,Bright,Newcut,Quartfield,Roseclap, twoFootmen,Cypher.
Plot.Well, sister, by this hand, I was afraidYou had marr'd all; but I am well contentYou have outreach'd me. If she do act it well now,By Jove, I'll have her.Aur.She hath studied allHer cues already.Plot.Gentlemen, how doYou like the project?Bright.Theirs was dull and cold,Compar'd to ours.New.Some poet will steal from us,And bring't into a comedy.Quart.The jestWill more inspire than sack.Plot.I have got CypherOver to our side too: he has been up and downTo invite guests to th' wedding.
Plot.Well, sister, by this hand, I was afraidYou had marr'd all; but I am well contentYou have outreach'd me. If she do act it well now,By Jove, I'll have her.
Aur.She hath studied allHer cues already.
Plot.Gentlemen, how doYou like the project?
Bright.Theirs was dull and cold,Compar'd to ours.
New.Some poet will steal from us,And bring't into a comedy.
Quart.The jestWill more inspire than sack.
Plot.I have got CypherOver to our side too: he has been up and downTo invite guests to th' wedding.
EnterSalewitlike a Curate.
How now, Salewit, are they gone home?Sale.Yes, faith, for better for worse.I've read a fiction out of Rab'lais to 'emIn a religious tone, which he believesFor good French liturgy. When I had done,There came a christening.Plot.And didst thou baptizeOut of thy Rab'lais too?Sale.No, faith; I left 'emIn expectation of their pastor.Bright.Newcut,Who does he look like in that dress?New.Hum! whyLike a Geneva weaver in black, who left[256]The loom, and enter'd into th' ministryFor conscience' sake.Plot.Well, gentlemen, you allDo know your parts: you, Captain and Bannswright,Go, get your properties. For you two, theseTwo mules shall carry you in greater stateAnd more ease than the fistula. You, sister,We'll leave unto your knight, to come anon.Roseclap and I will thither straight. You, Cypher,Know what you have to do.Sale.And as for me,I'm an invited guest, and am to blessThe venison in French, or in a graceOf broken English.Quart.Before we do divideOur army, let us dip our rosemaries[257]In one rich bowl of sack to this brave girl,And to the gentleman that was my fish.All.Agreed, agreed.Plot.Captain, you shall dip first.[Exeunt.
How now, Salewit, are they gone home?
Sale.Yes, faith, for better for worse.I've read a fiction out of Rab'lais to 'emIn a religious tone, which he believesFor good French liturgy. When I had done,There came a christening.
Plot.And didst thou baptizeOut of thy Rab'lais too?
Sale.No, faith; I left 'emIn expectation of their pastor.
Bright.Newcut,Who does he look like in that dress?
New.Hum! whyLike a Geneva weaver in black, who left[256]The loom, and enter'd into th' ministryFor conscience' sake.
Plot.Well, gentlemen, you allDo know your parts: you, Captain and Bannswright,Go, get your properties. For you two, theseTwo mules shall carry you in greater stateAnd more ease than the fistula. You, sister,We'll leave unto your knight, to come anon.Roseclap and I will thither straight. You, Cypher,Know what you have to do.
Sale.And as for me,I'm an invited guest, and am to blessThe venison in French, or in a graceOf broken English.
Quart.Before we do divideOur army, let us dip our rosemaries[257]In one rich bowl of sack to this brave girl,And to the gentleman that was my fish.
All.Agreed, agreed.
Plot.Captain, you shall dip first.[Exeunt.
Warehouse,Dorcas.
Ware.My dearest Dorcas, welcome. Here you seeThe house you must be mistress of, which withThis kiss I do confirm unto you.Dor.Forbear, sir.Ware.How! wife, refuse to kiss me?Dor.Yes, unlessA sweeter air came from you; y' have turned my stomach.I wonder you can be so rude to ask me,Knowing your lungs are perish'd.Ware.This is rare,That I should live to this great age, and neverTill now know I was rotten!Dor.I shall neverEndure your conversation: I hope you haveContriv'd two beds, two chambers, and two tables.It is an article, that I should liveRetir'd—that is, apart.Ware.But pray you, wife, are you in earnest?Dor.D'you think I'll jest with age?Ware.Will you not lie with me, then?Dor.Did ever manOf your hairs ask such questions? I do blushAt your unreasonableness.Ware.Nay, then——Dor.Is't fit I should be buried?Ware.I reach you not.Dor.Why, to lie with you were a direct emblemOf going to my grave.War.I understand you.Dor.I'll have your picture set in my weddingringFor a Death's head.Ware.I do conceive you.Dor.I'dRather lie with an ancient tomb, or embraceAn ancestor than you. D'you think I'll comeBetween your winding-sheets? For what? To hear youDepart all night, and fetch your last groan; andI' th' morning find a deluge on the floor;Your entrails floating, and half my husband spitUpon the arras.Ware.I am married——Dor.Then,For your abilities, should twelve good womenSit on these reverend locks, and on your heatAnd natural appetite, they would just find youAs youthful as a coffin, and as hotAs the sultry winter that froze o'er the Thames—They say the hard time did begin from you.Ware.Good, I am made the curse of watermen.Dor.Your humours come frost from you, and your noseHath icicles in June.Ware.Assist me, patience!Why, hear you, mistress—you that have a feverAnd dog-days in your blood—if you knew this,Why did you marry me?Dor.Ha, ha, ha!Ware.She laughs.Dor.That your experienc'd age,[258]that hath felt springsAnd falls this forty years, should be so dullTo think I have not them that shall supplyYour cold defects!Ware.You have your servants, then,And I am fork'd? hum!Dor.Do you thinkA woman young, high in her blood——Ware.And hotAs goats or marmosites——Dor.Apt to take flame atEvery temptation——Ware.And to kindle atThe picture of a man——Dor.Would wed dust, ashes,A monument, unless she were——Ware.Crack'd, tried, and broken up?Dor.Right, sir, or lack'd a cloak?Ware.Mischief and hell! and was there none to makeYour cloak but I?Dor.Not so well-lin'd!Ware.O, youStay'd for a wealthy cuckold; your tame beastMust have his gilded horns?Dor.Yes, sir; besides,Your age being impotent, you would, I knew,In conscience wink at my stol'n helps, if ITook comfort from abroad.Ware.Yes, yes; yes, yes!You shall be comforted: I will maintainA stallion for you.Dor.I will have friends come to me.So you'll conceal——Ware.Alas! I'll be your pander;Deliver letters for you, and keep the door.Dor.I'll have a woman shall do that.Ware.O impudence!Unheard-of impudence!Dor.Then, sir, I'll lookYour coffers shall maintain me at my rate.Ware.How's that?Dor.Why, like a lady; for I do meanTo have you knighted.Ware.I shall rise to honour.Dor.D'you think I'll have your factor move before me,Like a device stirr'd by a wire, or likeSome grave clock wound up to a regular pace?Ware.No, you shall have your usher, dame, to stalkBefore you, like a buskin'd prologue,[259]inA stately, high, majestic motion, bare.Dor.I do expect it: yes, sir, and my coach,Six horses and postillion; four are fitFor them that have a charge of children: youAnd I shall never have any.Ware.If we have,All Middlesex is father.Dor.Then I'll haveMy footman to run by me when I visit,Or take the air sometimes in Hyde Park.Ware.You,Besides being chaste, are good at races too:You can be a jockey for a need?Dor.Y' are pleasant, sir.Ware.Why, hark you, hark you, mistress; you told meYou lov'd retirement, loved not visits, and bargain'dI should not carry you abroad.Dor.You! no.Is't fit I should be seen at court with you?Such an odd sight as you would make the ladiesHave melancholy thoughts.Ware.You bound me, too,I should not go to sea: you lov'd me so,You could not be without me.Dor.Not if you stay'dAbove a year; for should I, in a long voyage,Prove fruitful, I should want a father toThe infant.Ware.Most politicly kind,And, like a whore, perfect i' th' mystery!It is beyond my sufferance.Dor.Pray, sir, vex [not]:I'll in and see your jewels, and make choiceOf some for every day; and some to wearAt masques.[Exit.Ware.'Tis very good. Two daysOf this I shall grow mad; or, to redeemMyself, commit some outrage. O—O—O!
Ware.My dearest Dorcas, welcome. Here you seeThe house you must be mistress of, which withThis kiss I do confirm unto you.
Dor.Forbear, sir.
Ware.How! wife, refuse to kiss me?
Dor.Yes, unlessA sweeter air came from you; y' have turned my stomach.I wonder you can be so rude to ask me,Knowing your lungs are perish'd.
Ware.This is rare,That I should live to this great age, and neverTill now know I was rotten!
Dor.I shall neverEndure your conversation: I hope you haveContriv'd two beds, two chambers, and two tables.It is an article, that I should liveRetir'd—that is, apart.
Ware.But pray you, wife, are you in earnest?
Dor.D'you think I'll jest with age?
Ware.Will you not lie with me, then?
Dor.Did ever manOf your hairs ask such questions? I do blushAt your unreasonableness.
Ware.Nay, then——
Dor.Is't fit I should be buried?
Ware.I reach you not.
Dor.Why, to lie with you were a direct emblemOf going to my grave.
War.I understand you.
Dor.I'll have your picture set in my weddingringFor a Death's head.
Ware.I do conceive you.
Dor.I'dRather lie with an ancient tomb, or embraceAn ancestor than you. D'you think I'll comeBetween your winding-sheets? For what? To hear youDepart all night, and fetch your last groan; andI' th' morning find a deluge on the floor;Your entrails floating, and half my husband spitUpon the arras.
Ware.I am married——
Dor.Then,For your abilities, should twelve good womenSit on these reverend locks, and on your heatAnd natural appetite, they would just find youAs youthful as a coffin, and as hotAs the sultry winter that froze o'er the Thames—They say the hard time did begin from you.
Ware.Good, I am made the curse of watermen.
Dor.Your humours come frost from you, and your noseHath icicles in June.
Ware.Assist me, patience!Why, hear you, mistress—you that have a feverAnd dog-days in your blood—if you knew this,Why did you marry me?
Dor.Ha, ha, ha!
Ware.She laughs.
Dor.That your experienc'd age,[258]that hath felt springsAnd falls this forty years, should be so dullTo think I have not them that shall supplyYour cold defects!
Ware.You have your servants, then,And I am fork'd? hum!
Dor.Do you thinkA woman young, high in her blood——
Ware.And hotAs goats or marmosites——
Dor.Apt to take flame atEvery temptation——
Ware.And to kindle atThe picture of a man——
Dor.Would wed dust, ashes,A monument, unless she were——
Ware.Crack'd, tried, and broken up?
Dor.Right, sir, or lack'd a cloak?
Ware.Mischief and hell! and was there none to makeYour cloak but I?
Dor.Not so well-lin'd!
Ware.O, youStay'd for a wealthy cuckold; your tame beastMust have his gilded horns?
Dor.Yes, sir; besides,Your age being impotent, you would, I knew,In conscience wink at my stol'n helps, if ITook comfort from abroad.
Ware.Yes, yes; yes, yes!You shall be comforted: I will maintainA stallion for you.
Dor.I will have friends come to me.So you'll conceal——
Ware.Alas! I'll be your pander;Deliver letters for you, and keep the door.
Dor.I'll have a woman shall do that.
Ware.O impudence!Unheard-of impudence!
Dor.Then, sir, I'll lookYour coffers shall maintain me at my rate.
Ware.How's that?
Dor.Why, like a lady; for I do meanTo have you knighted.
Ware.I shall rise to honour.
Dor.D'you think I'll have your factor move before me,Like a device stirr'd by a wire, or likeSome grave clock wound up to a regular pace?
Ware.No, you shall have your usher, dame, to stalkBefore you, like a buskin'd prologue,[259]inA stately, high, majestic motion, bare.
Dor.I do expect it: yes, sir, and my coach,Six horses and postillion; four are fitFor them that have a charge of children: youAnd I shall never have any.
Ware.If we have,All Middlesex is father.
Dor.Then I'll haveMy footman to run by me when I visit,Or take the air sometimes in Hyde Park.
Ware.You,Besides being chaste, are good at races too:You can be a jockey for a need?
Dor.Y' are pleasant, sir.
Ware.Why, hark you, hark you, mistress; you told meYou lov'd retirement, loved not visits, and bargain'dI should not carry you abroad.
Dor.You! no.Is't fit I should be seen at court with you?Such an odd sight as you would make the ladiesHave melancholy thoughts.
Ware.You bound me, too,I should not go to sea: you lov'd me so,You could not be without me.
Dor.Not if you stay'dAbove a year; for should I, in a long voyage,Prove fruitful, I should want a father toThe infant.
Ware.Most politicly kind,And, like a whore, perfect i' th' mystery!It is beyond my sufferance.
Dor.Pray, sir, vex [not]:I'll in and see your jewels, and make choiceOf some for every day; and some to wearAt masques.[Exit.
Ware.'Tis very good. Two daysOf this I shall grow mad; or, to redeemMyself, commit some outrage. O—O—O!
EnterPlotwellandRoseclap.
Plot.Sir, I am sorry such a light offenceShould make such deep impressions in you: but thatWhich more afflicts me than the loss of myGreat hopes, is that y' are likely to be abused, sir;Strangely abused, sir, by one Bannswright. I hearYou are to marry——Ware.Did you hear so?Plot.Madam Aurelia's woman.Ware.What of her, sir?Plot.Why, sir, I thought it duty to inform you,That you would better match a ruin'd bawd;One ten times cured by sweating and the tub,[260]Or pain'd now with her fiftieth ache, whom notThe pow'r of usquebaugh, or heat of feversQuickens enough to wish; one of such looks,The judges of assize, without more proof,Suspect, arraign, and burn for witchcraft.Ware.Why, pray?Plot.For she being pass'd all motions, impotence will be a kind of chastity, and youMight have her to yourself: but here is oneKnows this to be——Ware.An arrant whore?Rose.I seeYou have heard of her, sir. Indeed she hasDone penance thrice.Ware.How say you, penance?Rose.Yes, sir, and should have suffer'd——Ware.Carting, should she not?Rose.The marshal had her, sir.Ware.I sweat, I sweat!Rose.She's of known practice, sir: the clothes she wearsAre but her quarter's sins: she has no linenBut what she first offends for.Ware.O bless'd Heaven,Look down upon me!Plot.Nay, sir, which is more,She has three children living; has had four.Ware.How! children! Children, say you?Plot.Ask him, sir.One by a Frenchman.Rose.Another by a Dutch.Plot.A third by a Moor, sir; born of two colours,Just like a serjeant's man.Ware.Why, she has known, then,All tongues and nations?Rose.She has been lain with fartherThan ever Coriat travell'd, and lain inBy two parts of the map, Afric and Europe,As if the state maintain'd her to allayThe heat of foreigners.Ware.O, O, O, O!Plot.What ail you, sir?Ware.O nephew, I am not well, I am not well!Plot.I hope you are not married?Ware.It is too true.Rose.God help you, then!Ware.Amen. Nephew, forgive me.Rose.Alas! good gentleman!Plot.Would you trust Bannswright, sir?Ware.Nephew, in hellThere's not a torment for him. O that I couldBut see that cheating rogue upon the rack now!I'd give a thousand pound for every stretch,That should enlarge the rogue through all his joints,And but just show him hell, and then recallHis broken soul, and give him strength to sufferHis torture often. I would have the rascalThink hanging a relief, and be as longA-dying as a chopp'd eel, that the devilMight have his soul by pieces. Who's here? a sailor?
Plot.Sir, I am sorry such a light offenceShould make such deep impressions in you: but thatWhich more afflicts me than the loss of myGreat hopes, is that y' are likely to be abused, sir;Strangely abused, sir, by one Bannswright. I hearYou are to marry——
Ware.Did you hear so?
Plot.Madam Aurelia's woman.
Ware.What of her, sir?
Plot.Why, sir, I thought it duty to inform you,That you would better match a ruin'd bawd;One ten times cured by sweating and the tub,[260]Or pain'd now with her fiftieth ache, whom notThe pow'r of usquebaugh, or heat of feversQuickens enough to wish; one of such looks,The judges of assize, without more proof,Suspect, arraign, and burn for witchcraft.
Ware.Why, pray?
Plot.For she being pass'd all motions, impotence will be a kind of chastity, and youMight have her to yourself: but here is oneKnows this to be——
Ware.An arrant whore?
Rose.I seeYou have heard of her, sir. Indeed she hasDone penance thrice.
Ware.How say you, penance?
Rose.Yes, sir, and should have suffer'd——
Ware.Carting, should she not?
Rose.The marshal had her, sir.
Ware.I sweat, I sweat!
Rose.She's of known practice, sir: the clothes she wearsAre but her quarter's sins: she has no linenBut what she first offends for.
Ware.O bless'd Heaven,Look down upon me!
Plot.Nay, sir, which is more,She has three children living; has had four.
Ware.How! children! Children, say you?
Plot.Ask him, sir.One by a Frenchman.
Rose.Another by a Dutch.
Plot.A third by a Moor, sir; born of two colours,Just like a serjeant's man.
Ware.Why, she has known, then,All tongues and nations?
Rose.She has been lain with fartherThan ever Coriat travell'd, and lain inBy two parts of the map, Afric and Europe,As if the state maintain'd her to allayThe heat of foreigners.
Ware.O, O, O, O!
Plot.What ail you, sir?
Ware.O nephew, I am not well, I am not well!
Plot.I hope you are not married?
Ware.It is too true.
Rose.God help you, then!
Ware.Amen. Nephew, forgive me.
Rose.Alas! good gentleman!
Plot.Would you trust Bannswright, sir?
Ware.Nephew, in hellThere's not a torment for him. O that I couldBut see that cheating rogue upon the rack now!I'd give a thousand pound for every stretch,That should enlarge the rogue through all his joints,And but just show him hell, and then recallHis broken soul, and give him strength to sufferHis torture often. I would have the rascalThink hanging a relief, and be as longA-dying as a chopp'd eel, that the devilMight have his soul by pieces. Who's here? a sailor?
EnterCypher, like a sailor.
Cyph.Are you, sir, Warehouse the rich merchant?Ware.Sir, my name is Warehouse.Cyph.Then you are not, sir,So rich by two ships as you were.Ware.How mean you?Cyph.Your two ships, sir, that were now coming homeFrom Ormus, are both cast away: the wreckAnd burden on the place was valued atSome forty thousand pound. All the men perish'dBy th' violence of the storm: only myselfPreserv'd my life by swimming, till a shipOf Bristol took me up, and brought me homeTo be the sad reporter.Ware.Was nothing sav'd?Cyph.Two small casks; one of blue figs, the otherOf pickled mushrooms, which serv'd me for bladders,And kept me up from sinking. 'Twas a stormWhich, sir, I will describe to you. The windsRose of a sudden with that tempestuous force——Ware.Prythee, no more, I've heard too much. Would IHad been i' th' tempest.Cyph.Good your worship, giveA poor seafaring man your charityTo carry me back again. I'm come aboveA hundred mile to tell you this.Ware.Go in,And let my factor, if he be come in,Reward thee: stay and sup, too.Cyph.Thank your worship.[ExitCypher.Ware.Why should I not now hang myself? Or, ifIt be a fate that will more hide itself,And keep me from discredit, tie some weightAbout my neck to sink me to the bottomO' th' Thames, not to be found, [and so] to keep my bodyFrom rising up and telling tales. Two wrecks,And both worth forty thousand pound there! Why,That landed here were worth an hundred. IWill drown myself. I nothing have to doNow in this world but drown myself.Plot.Fie! theseAre desperate resolutions. Take heart, sir;There may be ways yet to relieve you.Ware.How?Plot.Why, for your lost ships, say, sir, I should bringTwo o' th' Assurance Office that should warrantTheir safe return? 'Tis not known yet: would youGive three parts to secure the fourth?Ware.I'd give ten to secure one.Plot.Well, sir, and for your wife,Say I should prove it were no lawful match,And that she is another man's—you'd takeThe piece of service well?Ware.Yes, and repentThat when I had so good an heir begotUnto my hand, I was so rash to aimAt one of my own dotage.Plot.Say no more, sir;But keep the sailor, that he stir not. We'llAbout it straight.[ExeuntPlotwellandRoseclap.Ware.How much I was deceiv'dTo think ill of my nephew, in whose revengeI see the heavens frown on me! Seas and windsSwell and rage for him against me; but I willAppease their furies, and be reconciled.
Cyph.Are you, sir, Warehouse the rich merchant?
Ware.Sir, my name is Warehouse.
Cyph.Then you are not, sir,So rich by two ships as you were.
Ware.How mean you?
Cyph.Your two ships, sir, that were now coming homeFrom Ormus, are both cast away: the wreckAnd burden on the place was valued atSome forty thousand pound. All the men perish'dBy th' violence of the storm: only myselfPreserv'd my life by swimming, till a shipOf Bristol took me up, and brought me homeTo be the sad reporter.
Ware.Was nothing sav'd?
Cyph.Two small casks; one of blue figs, the otherOf pickled mushrooms, which serv'd me for bladders,And kept me up from sinking. 'Twas a stormWhich, sir, I will describe to you. The windsRose of a sudden with that tempestuous force——
Ware.Prythee, no more, I've heard too much. Would IHad been i' th' tempest.
Cyph.Good your worship, giveA poor seafaring man your charityTo carry me back again. I'm come aboveA hundred mile to tell you this.
Ware.Go in,And let my factor, if he be come in,Reward thee: stay and sup, too.
Cyph.Thank your worship.[ExitCypher.
Ware.Why should I not now hang myself? Or, ifIt be a fate that will more hide itself,And keep me from discredit, tie some weightAbout my neck to sink me to the bottomO' th' Thames, not to be found, [and so] to keep my bodyFrom rising up and telling tales. Two wrecks,And both worth forty thousand pound there! Why,That landed here were worth an hundred. IWill drown myself. I nothing have to doNow in this world but drown myself.
Plot.Fie! theseAre desperate resolutions. Take heart, sir;There may be ways yet to relieve you.
Ware.How?
Plot.Why, for your lost ships, say, sir, I should bringTwo o' th' Assurance Office that should warrantTheir safe return? 'Tis not known yet: would youGive three parts to secure the fourth?
Ware.I'd give ten to secure one.
Plot.Well, sir, and for your wife,Say I should prove it were no lawful match,And that she is another man's—you'd takeThe piece of service well?
Ware.Yes, and repentThat when I had so good an heir begotUnto my hand, I was so rash to aimAt one of my own dotage.
Plot.Say no more, sir;But keep the sailor, that he stir not. We'llAbout it straight.[ExeuntPlotwellandRoseclap.
Ware.How much I was deceiv'dTo think ill of my nephew, in whose revengeI see the heavens frown on me! Seas and windsSwell and rage for him against me; but I willAppease their furies, and be reconciled.
[ManetWarehouse.]EnterSeathrift,MistressSeathrift,Mistress Holland,MistressScruple.
Mis. Sea.Much joy to you, sir; you have made quick despatch.I like a man that can love, woo, and wed,All in an hour. My husband was so longA-getting me; so many friends' consentsWere to be ask'd, that when we came to church,'Twas not a marriage, but our times were out,And we were there made free of one another.Mis. Hol.I look'd to find you abed and a young sheriffBegot by this. My husband, when I cameFrom church, by this time had his caudle: IHad not a garter left, nor he a point.Mis. Scr.Surely, all that my husband did the firstNight we were married, was to call for oneOf his wrought caps more to allay his rheum.Mis. Hol.We hear y' have match'd a courtier, sir: a gallant:One that can spring fire in your blood, and dartFresh flames into you.Mis. Sea.Sir, you are not merry:Methinks you do not look as you were married.Mis. Hol.You rather look as you had lost your love.Mis. Scr.Or else, as if your spouse, sir, had rebuk'd you.Sea.How is it, sir? You see I have brought alongMy fiddlers with me; my wife and Mistress HollandAre good wind-instruments. 'Tis enough for meTo put on sadness.Ware.You, sir, have no cause.Sea.Not I! Ask Mistress Scruple. I have lostMy daughter, sir: she's stol'n. Then, sir, I haveA spendthrift to my son.Ware.These are felicitiesCompar'd to me. You have not match'd a whore, sir,Nor lost two ships at sea.Sea.Nor you, I hope?Ware.Truth is, you are my friends; I am abus'd,Grossly fetch'd over. I have match'd a stew,The notedst woman o' th' town.Mis. Sea.Indeed, I heardShe was a chambermaid.Mis. Hol.And they by their placeDo wait upon the lady, but belongUnto the lord.Sea.But is this true?Ware.Here wasMy nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell meShe has three children living; one dapple-grey,Half Moor, half English: knows as many menAs she that sinned by th' calendar, and dividedThe nights o' th' year with several men.Sea.Bless me, goodness!Ware.Then, like a man condemned to all misfortunes,I have estated her in all I have.Sea.How!Ware.Under hand and seal, sir, irrecoverably.
Mis. Sea.Much joy to you, sir; you have made quick despatch.I like a man that can love, woo, and wed,All in an hour. My husband was so longA-getting me; so many friends' consentsWere to be ask'd, that when we came to church,'Twas not a marriage, but our times were out,And we were there made free of one another.
Mis. Hol.I look'd to find you abed and a young sheriffBegot by this. My husband, when I cameFrom church, by this time had his caudle: IHad not a garter left, nor he a point.
Mis. Scr.Surely, all that my husband did the firstNight we were married, was to call for oneOf his wrought caps more to allay his rheum.
Mis. Hol.We hear y' have match'd a courtier, sir: a gallant:One that can spring fire in your blood, and dartFresh flames into you.
Mis. Sea.Sir, you are not merry:Methinks you do not look as you were married.
Mis. Hol.You rather look as you had lost your love.
Mis. Scr.Or else, as if your spouse, sir, had rebuk'd you.
Sea.How is it, sir? You see I have brought alongMy fiddlers with me; my wife and Mistress HollandAre good wind-instruments. 'Tis enough for meTo put on sadness.
Ware.You, sir, have no cause.
Sea.Not I! Ask Mistress Scruple. I have lostMy daughter, sir: she's stol'n. Then, sir, I haveA spendthrift to my son.
Ware.These are felicitiesCompar'd to me. You have not match'd a whore, sir,Nor lost two ships at sea.
Sea.Nor you, I hope?
Ware.Truth is, you are my friends; I am abus'd,Grossly fetch'd over. I have match'd a stew,The notedst woman o' th' town.
Mis. Sea.Indeed, I heardShe was a chambermaid.
Mis. Hol.And they by their placeDo wait upon the lady, but belongUnto the lord.
Sea.But is this true?
Ware.Here wasMy nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell meShe has three children living; one dapple-grey,Half Moor, half English: knows as many menAs she that sinned by th' calendar, and dividedThe nights o' th' year with several men.
Sea.Bless me, goodness!
Ware.Then, like a man condemned to all misfortunes,I have estated her in all I have.
Sea.How!
Ware.Under hand and seal, sir, irrecoverably.
EnterSalewit.
Mis. Hol.Look, Mistress Scruple, here's your husband.Sale.Be the leave of the fair companée.Mis. Scr.My husband!His cold keeps him at home. Surely I takeThis to be some Dutch elder.Sale.Where isThe breed an breedgroom? O monsieur, I'm com'tTo give you zhoy, and bless your capòn; whereIs your fair breed?Ware.O Monsieur, you have join'd meTo a chaste virgin. Would, when I came to you,Y' had used your ceremonies about my funeral.Sale.Fooneral? Is your breed dead?Ware.Would she were,I'd double your fee, Monsieur, to bury her.Sale.Ee can but leetle English.Ware.No, I see you are but new come over.Sale.Dover! Tere Ee landed.Ware.Ay, sir, pray walk in; that doorWill land you in my dining-room.Sale.Ee tank you.[Exit.Ware.This is the priest that married us.Sea.This is a Frenchman, is't not?Ware.'Twas at the French church.
Mis. Hol.Look, Mistress Scruple, here's your husband.
Sale.Be the leave of the fair companée.
Mis. Scr.My husband!His cold keeps him at home. Surely I takeThis to be some Dutch elder.
Sale.Where isThe breed an breedgroom? O monsieur, I'm com'tTo give you zhoy, and bless your capòn; whereIs your fair breed?
Ware.O Monsieur, you have join'd meTo a chaste virgin. Would, when I came to you,Y' had used your ceremonies about my funeral.
Sale.Fooneral? Is your breed dead?
Ware.Would she were,I'd double your fee, Monsieur, to bury her.
Sale.Ee can but leetle English.
Ware.No, I see you are but new come over.
Sale.Dover! Tere Ee landed.
Ware.Ay, sir, pray walk in; that doorWill land you in my dining-room.
Sale.Ee tank you.[Exit.
Ware.This is the priest that married us.
Sea.This is a Frenchman, is't not?
Ware.'Twas at the French church.
Enter twoFootmen, bearing the frame of a great picture. Curtains drawn.
1st Foot.Set 'em down gently; so.2d Foot.They make me sweat.Pictures, quoth you; 'slight, they have weight enoughTo be the parties.1st Foot.My lady, sir, has sentA present to your wife.Ware.What lady, pray?1st Foot.Madam Aurelia, sir.Ware.O!——2d Foot.Sir, they areA brace of pictures, with which my lady praysShe will adorn her chamber.Ware.Male pictures, pray,Or female?1st Foot.Why d'you ask?Ware.Because, methinks,It should be Mars and Venus in a net;Aretine's postures,[261]or a naked nymphLying asleep, and some lascivious satyrTaking her lineaments. These are pictures whichDelight my wife.2d Foot.These are night-pieces, sir.Mis. Hol.Lord, how I long to see 'em! I have at homeThe finest ravish'd Lucrece.Mis. Scr.So have IThe finest fall of Babylon! There isA fat monk spewing churches, save your presence.Mis. Hol.Pray, will you open 'em?1st Foot.My lady charged usNone should have sight of 'em, sir, but your wife.Ware.Because you make so dainty, I will see 'em.
1st Foot.Set 'em down gently; so.
2d Foot.They make me sweat.Pictures, quoth you; 'slight, they have weight enoughTo be the parties.
1st Foot.My lady, sir, has sentA present to your wife.
Ware.What lady, pray?
1st Foot.Madam Aurelia, sir.
Ware.O!——
2d Foot.Sir, they areA brace of pictures, with which my lady praysShe will adorn her chamber.
Ware.Male pictures, pray,Or female?
1st Foot.Why d'you ask?
Ware.Because, methinks,It should be Mars and Venus in a net;Aretine's postures,[261]or a naked nymphLying asleep, and some lascivious satyrTaking her lineaments. These are pictures whichDelight my wife.
2d Foot.These are night-pieces, sir.
Mis. Hol.Lord, how I long to see 'em! I have at homeThe finest ravish'd Lucrece.
Mis. Scr.So have IThe finest fall of Babylon! There isA fat monk spewing churches, save your presence.
Mis. Hol.Pray, will you open 'em?
1st Foot.My lady charged usNone should have sight of 'em, sir, but your wife.
Ware.Because you make so dainty, I will see 'em.
[Draws the curtain; within are discoveredBrightandNewcut.
2d Foot.'Tis out of our commission.Ware.But not of mine. Hell and damnation!1st Foot.How do you like 'em, sir?Mis. Hol.Look, they are pictur'd in their clothes!Mis. Sea.They stir, too.2d Foot.Sir, they are drawn to life; a master's handWent to 'em, I assure you.Ware.Out, varlets, bawds!Panders, avoid my house! O devil! are youMy wife's night-pieces?[They come out.Bright.Sir, you are rude, uncivil,And would be beaten.New.We cannot come in privateOn business to your wife, but you must beInquisitive. Sir, thank God 'tis in your own house;The place protects you.Bright.If such an insolence'Scape unreveng'd, henceforth no ladies shallHave secret servants.New.Here she comes; we'll askIf she gave you commission to be so bold.Ware.Why this is far beyond example rare.Now I conceive what is Platonic love:'Tis to have men, like pictures, brought disguised,To cuckold us with virtue.[They whisper.
2d Foot.'Tis out of our commission.
Ware.But not of mine. Hell and damnation!
1st Foot.How do you like 'em, sir?
Mis. Hol.Look, they are pictur'd in their clothes!
Mis. Sea.They stir, too.
2d Foot.Sir, they are drawn to life; a master's handWent to 'em, I assure you.
Ware.Out, varlets, bawds!Panders, avoid my house! O devil! are youMy wife's night-pieces?[They come out.
Bright.Sir, you are rude, uncivil,And would be beaten.
New.We cannot come in privateOn business to your wife, but you must beInquisitive. Sir, thank God 'tis in your own house;The place protects you.
Bright.If such an insolence'Scape unreveng'd, henceforth no ladies shallHave secret servants.
New.Here she comes; we'll askIf she gave you commission to be so bold.
Ware.Why this is far beyond example rare.Now I conceive what is Platonic love:'Tis to have men, like pictures, brought disguised,To cuckold us with virtue.[They whisper.
EnterDorcas.
Dor.He would not offer't, would he?Bright.We have beenIn danger to be searched: hereafter weMust first be question'd by an officer,And bring it under hands we are no men,Or have nought dangerous about us, beforeWe shall obtain access.New.We do expectIn time your husband, to preserve you chaste,Should keep you with a guard of eunuchs, orConfine you, like Italians, to a roomWhere no male beast is pictur'd, lest the sightOf aught that can beget should stir desires.Dor.I mar'l, sir, who did license you to pry,Or spy out any friends that come to me;It shows an unbred curiosity,Which I'll correct hereafter. You will dareTo break up letters shortly, and examineMy tailor, lest, when he brings home my gown,There, be a man in't. I'll have whom I list,In what disguise I list, and when I list,And not have your sour eyes so saucy to peep,As if you, by prevention, meant to killA basilisk.Ware.Mistress, do what you list,Send for your couch out, lie with your gallants thereBefore us all: or, if you have a mindTo fellows that can lift weights, I can callTwo footmen too.Sea.You are too patient, sir:Send for the marshal, and discharge your house.Mis. Sea.Truly a handsome woman! what pity 'tisShe is not honest.[Aside.Mis. Hol.Two proper gentlemen, too.Lord, that such pictures might be sent to me!
Dor.He would not offer't, would he?
Bright.We have beenIn danger to be searched: hereafter weMust first be question'd by an officer,And bring it under hands we are no men,Or have nought dangerous about us, beforeWe shall obtain access.
New.We do expectIn time your husband, to preserve you chaste,Should keep you with a guard of eunuchs, orConfine you, like Italians, to a roomWhere no male beast is pictur'd, lest the sightOf aught that can beget should stir desires.
Dor.I mar'l, sir, who did license you to pry,Or spy out any friends that come to me;It shows an unbred curiosity,Which I'll correct hereafter. You will dareTo break up letters shortly, and examineMy tailor, lest, when he brings home my gown,There, be a man in't. I'll have whom I list,In what disguise I list, and when I list,And not have your sour eyes so saucy to peep,As if you, by prevention, meant to killA basilisk.
Ware.Mistress, do what you list,Send for your couch out, lie with your gallants thereBefore us all: or, if you have a mindTo fellows that can lift weights, I can callTwo footmen too.
Sea.You are too patient, sir:Send for the marshal, and discharge your house.
Mis. Sea.Truly a handsome woman! what pity 'tisShe is not honest.[Aside.
Mis. Hol.Two proper gentlemen, too.Lord, that such pictures might be sent to me!
[Aside.
EnterPlotwellandRoseclap, withBannswrightandQuartfielddisguised.
Ware.O nephew, welcome to my ransom! hereMy house is made a new erection; gallantsAre brought in varied forms. Had I not look'dBy providence into that frame, these twoHad been convey'd for night-pieces and landskipsInto my chaste bride's chamber. Till now, she tookAnd let herself out; now she will be ableTo hire and buy offenders.Plot.I'll ease you, sir;We two have made a full discovery of her.Rose.She's married to another man, sir.Ware.Good nephew, thou art my blessed angel.Who are these two?Plot.Two that will secure your ships,Sent by the office. Seal you, sir: th' have broughtTh' assurance with 'em.Ware.Nephew, thou were't bornTo be my dear preserver.Plot.It is duty, sir,To help you out with your misfortunes. Gentlemen,Produce your instruments. Uncle, put your sealAnd write your name here; they will do the likeTo the other parchment. So, now deliver.
Ware.O nephew, welcome to my ransom! hereMy house is made a new erection; gallantsAre brought in varied forms. Had I not look'dBy providence into that frame, these twoHad been convey'd for night-pieces and landskipsInto my chaste bride's chamber. Till now, she tookAnd let herself out; now she will be ableTo hire and buy offenders.
Plot.I'll ease you, sir;We two have made a full discovery of her.
Rose.She's married to another man, sir.
Ware.Good nephew, thou art my blessed angel.Who are these two?
Plot.Two that will secure your ships,Sent by the office. Seal you, sir: th' have broughtTh' assurance with 'em.
Ware.Nephew, thou were't bornTo be my dear preserver.
Plot.It is duty, sir,To help you out with your misfortunes. Gentlemen,Produce your instruments. Uncle, put your sealAnd write your name here; they will do the likeTo the other parchment. So, now deliver.
[They subscribe, seal, and deliver interchangeably.