Is this his damasked kirtle fringed with gold,
His black bag, and his beaver? ’Tis well yet
I have a sword.
Luce.
And I have a project in my brain begot,
To make his own mouth witness to the world
My innocence, and his incontinence.
Leave it to me, I’ll clear myself from blame,
Though I the wrong, yet he shall reap the shame.
[Exeunt.
EnterSencerlike aServing-man.
Sencer.
Now or never, look about thee, Sencer: to-morrow is the marriage day, which to prevent lies not within the compass of my apprehension; therefore I have thus disguised myself, to go to the looming woman’s, the fortune-teller’s, the anything, the nothing. This over-against Mother Redcap’s is her house; I’ll knock.
Enter 2ndLuceinBoy’sclothes.
2nd Luce.
Who’s there? What would you have?
Sencer.
I would speak with the wise gentlewoman of the house.
2nd Luce.
Oh, belike you have lost somewhat.
Sencer.
You are in the wrong, sweet youth.
2nd Luce.
I am somewhat thick of hearing; pray speak out.
Sencer.
I say I have not lost anything, but wit and time, and neither of those she can help me to.
2nd Luce.
Then you belike are crossed in love, and come to know what success you shall have.
Sencer.
Thou hast hit it, sweet lad; thou hast hit it.
2nd Luce.
What is it you say, sir?
Sencer.
Thou hast hit it.
2nd Luce.
I pray come in; I’ll bring you to my mistress.
[Exeunt.
EnterLuceandJoseph.
Luce.
This is the house; knock, Joseph; my business craves dispatch.
Joseph.
Now am I as angry as thou art timorous; and now to vent on the next thing I meet—Oh, ’tis the door. [Knocks.
Re-enter 2ndLuce.
2nd Luce.
Who’s there? What are you?
Luce.
A maid and a wife.
2nd Luce.
And that would grieve any wench to be so; I know that by myself, not Luce.
Luce.
Boy, where’s your mistress?
2nd Luce.
In some private talk with a gentleman. I’ll fetch her to you presently. [Exit.
Luce.
If she and you see me not, I am but dead;
I shall be made a by-word to the world,
The scorn of women, and my father’s shame.
Enter theWise-womanandSencer,followed by 2ndLuce.
Wise-woman.
You tell me your name is Sence; I knew it before: and that Chartley is to be married, I could have told it you.
2nd Luce.
Married to-morrow,—O me!
Sencer.
Ay, but you tell me that Chartley before to-morrow shall be disappointed of his wife; make that good, thou shalt have twenty angels.
Wise-woman.
I’ll do’t: stand aside; I’ll have but a word or two with this gentlewoman, and I am for you presently.
Luce.
O mother, mother!
[They whisper.
2nd Luce.
My husband marry another wife to-morrow! O changeable destiny! no sooner married to him, but instantly to lose him! Nor doth it grieve me so much that I am a wife, but that I am a maid too; to carry one of them well is as much as any is bound to do, but to be tied to both is more than flesh and blood can endure.
Wise-woman.
Well, trust to me, and I will set all things straight.
EnterBoyster.
Boyster.
Where’s this witch, this hag, this beldam, this wizard? And have I found thee!—thus then will I tear, mumble, and maul thee!
Wise-woman.
Help, help!—an if you be a gentleman!
Sencer.
Forbear this rudeness; he that touches her,
Draws against me.
Boyster.
Against you, sir! apply thou;[50]that shall be tried.
All.
Help, help! part them, help!
Sencer.
With patience hear her speak.
Boyster.
Now, trot, now, grannam, what canst thou say for thyself?—What, Luce here! Be patient, and put up thou; she must not see the end.
Sencer.
Then truce of all sides; if we come for counsel,
Let us with patience hear it.
Luce.
Then first to me.
Wise-woman.
You would prevent young Chartley’s marriage? you shall: hark in your ear. [Whispers.
Luce.
It pleaseth me.
Wise-woman.
You forestall Gratiana’s wedding? ’tis but thus. [Whispers.
Sencer.
I’ll do’t.
Wise-woman.
You would enjoy Luce as your wife, and lie with her to-morrow night? Hark in your ear. [Whispers.
Boyster.
Fiat!
Wise-woman.
Away! you shall enjoy him, you are married, Luce, away! you shall see Chartley discarded from Gratiana. Sencer, begone! And if I fail in any of these or the rest, I lay myself open to all your displeasures.
Boyster.
Farewell till soon!
Wise-woman.
You know your meeting-place.
All.
We do.
Wise-woman.
You shall report me wise and cunning too.
[Exeunt all except2ndLuce.
2nd Luce.
I’ll add one night more to the time I have said;
I have not many, I hope, to live a maid. [Exit.
EnterSirBoniface,andTabercarrying 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.[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.
EnterSencerlike aServing-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, forpuntis te vole.
Sencer.
When I taste of your liquor,
Gramercy, Master Vicar.
Re-enterTaberwith 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 shallbeso las manus.[52]
[They dissemble one to another.
Sencer.
A vostre servitor.
EnterHaringfield.
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.
[EnterYoungChartleywith 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.
[ExeuntSirBonifaceandHaringfield.
Young Chartley.
[ToSencer,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.[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. Yourquondamwife, 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[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-enterTaber.
Taber.
To-night, sir!
Young Chartley.
So tell my bride and father: I have news that quite confounds my senses.
[ExitTaber.
EnterSirHarry, Gratiana,andHaringfield.
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[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.
[ExeuntYoungChartley, SirHarryandHaringfield.
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.
EnterOld MasterChartleyand three or fourServing-men.
Old Chartley.
Good Heaven! this London is a stranger grown,
And out of my acquaintance; this seven years
I have not seen Paul’s steeple, or Cheap Cross.[56]
1st Serving-man.
Sir—
Old Chartley.
Hast thou not made inquiry for my son?
1st Serving-man.
Yes, sir, I have asked about everywhere for him, but cannot hear of him.
Old Chartley.
Disperse yourselves; inquire about the taverns, ordinaries, bowl-alleys, tennis-courts, gaming-houses; for there, I fear, he will be found.
1st Serving-man.
But where shall we hear of your worship again?
Old Chartley.
At Grace Church by the Conduit, near Sir Harry.
But stay, leave off a while your bootless search.
Had e’er man such a wild brain to his sorrow,
Of such small hope, who, when he should have married
A fair, a modest, and a virtuous maid,
Rich and revenued well, and even the night
Before the marriage day took horse, rode thence,
Whither Heaven knows? Since the distracted virgin
Hath left her father’s house, but neither found,
Yet in their search we have measured out much ground.
EnterSirHarryandSencer.
Sencer.
Your worship will be there?
Sir Harry.
Yes, not to fail,
At half an hour past six, or before seven.
Sencer.
You shall not find us at six and at seven, I’ll warrant you: good health to your worship.
Sir Harry.
Farewell, good fellow;
At the Wise-woman’s house (I know it well:
Perhaps she knows some danger touching me).
I’ll keep mine hour.
[ExitSencer.
Old Chartley.
Sir Harry,
A hand, a hand; to baulk you it were sin.
I shall be bold to make your house mine inn.
Sir Harry.
Brother Chartley, I am glad to see you.
Old Chartley.
Methinks, Sir Harry, you look strangely on me.
And do not bid me welcome with an heart.
Sir Harry.
And blame me not to look amazedly
To see you here.
Old Chartley.
Why me?
Sir Harry.
Come, come, you’re welcome.
And now I’ll turn my strangeness to true joy.
I am glad to see you well, and safe recovered
Of your late grievous sickness.
Old Chartley.
The strange amazèd looks that you cast off
You put on me; and blame me not to wonder
That you should talk of sickness to sound men.
I thank my stars I did not taste the grief
Of inward pain or outward malady
This seven years day.
Sir Harry.
But by your favour, brother,
Then let me have my wonder back again.
Old Chartley.
Before I quite part with it, let me know
Why you the name of brother put upon me
In every clause—a name as strange to me
As my recovered sickness.
Sir Harry.
You are pleasant,
And it becomes you well: welcome again,
The rather you are come just to the wedding.
Old Chartley.
What wedding, sir?
Sir Harry.
That you should ask that question!
Why, of my daughter Grace.
Old Chartley.
Is Grace bestowed? Of whom, I pray?
Sir Harry.
Of whom but of your son.
I wonder, brother Chartley, and my friend,
You should thus play on me.
Old Chartley.
But by your favour,
Were you ten knights, Sir Harry—take me with you[57]—
My son match with your daughter! my consent
Not worthy to be craved!
Sir Harry.
Nay, then I see
You’ll stir my patience; know this forward match
Took its first birth from you.
Old Chartley.
From me?
Sir Harry.
From you.
Peruse this letter: know you your own hand?
’Twas well that I reserved your hand a witness
Against your tongue. You had best deny the jointure
Of the three hundred pounds made to my daughter;
’Tis that I know you aim at; but your seal— [Shows him letter.
Old Chartley.
Shall not make me approve it: I deny
This seal for mine, nor do I vouch that hand.
Your daughter and the dower, letter and all,
I quite disclaim. Sir Harry, you much wrong me.
Sir Harry.
I can bear more than this; heap wrong on wrong,
And I’ll support it all; I for this time
Will cast my spleen behind me. And yet hear me:
This letter your son Chartley, as from you,
Delivered me. I like the motion well.
Old Chartley.
My spleen is further thrown aside than yours,
And I am full as patient, and yet hear me;
My son’s contracted to another maid.
Nay, I am patient still—yet that I writ
This letter, sealed this impress, I deny.
Sir Harry.
Why, then, the jack[58]your hand did counterfeit?
Old Chartley.
Why, then, he did so. Where’s that unthrift, speak?
Sir Harry.
Some hour ago, he mounted and rid post
To give you visit, whom he said lay sick
Upon your death-bed.
Old Chartley.
You amaze me, sir.
It is an ill presage; hereon I see
Your former salutation took its ground,
To see me safe recovered of my sickness.
Sir Harry.
Indeed it did. Your welcome is a subject
I cannot use too oft; welcome again.
I am sorry you this night must sup alone,
For I am elsewhere called about some business,
Concerning what I know not. Hours run on—
I must to Hogsdon; high time I were gone. [Exit.
Old Chartley.
Perhaps to the Wise-woman’s; she may tell me
The fortunes of my son. This accident
Hath bred in me suspicion and strange fears.
I will not sup alone, but I protest,
’Mongst some this night I’ll play the intruding guest.
[Exit withServing-men.
Enter theWise-woman,Senceras aServing-man,Luceand herFather,and 2ndLuceinBoy’sclothes.
Wise-woman.
But will Sir Harry come?
Sencer.
Presume he will,
And Chartley too.
Luce’s Father.
I’ll have the knave by the ears.
Luce.
Nay, patience, sir; leave your revenge to me.
EnterBoyster.
Boyster.
Grannam, I am come according to promise.
Wise-woman.
And welcome to the best hole that I have in Hogsdon.
Boyster.
Good even.
Luce.
Thanks, sir, a good even may it prove,
That each may reap the fruits of their own love!
2nd Luce.
That shall be my prayer too.
Boyster.
Come, what shall’s do?
Wise-woman.
Withdraw; I’ll place you all in several rooms,
Where sit, see, but say nothing.
[They withdraw. ExeuntWise-womanand 2ndLuce.
EnterTaber,usheringGratiana.
Taber.
Here, sweet mistress; I know the place well ever since I was here to know my fortune.
Gratiana.
Call me some half an hour hence.
[ExitTaber.
Re-enter theWise-womanand 2ndLuce.
Wise-woman.
Your ladyship is most lovingly welcome. A low stool for the gentlewoman, boy. I made bold to send to you to take view of such a piece of work as I presume you have seldom seen the like.
Gratiana.
Of whose doing, I pray?
Wise-woman.
A friend of yours and mine. Please you withdraw,
I’ll bring you to’t.
2nd Luce.
Mistress!
Wise-woman.
One calls, sweet lady; I shall do you wrong,
But pray you think my little stay not long.
[Gratianawithdraws, exeunt the others.
EnterSencer, SirHarry,andLuce.
Sencer.
Here, sir, in this retiring chamber.
Sir Harry.
Gramercy, friend. How now? what’s here to do?
A pretty wench and a close chamber too!
Luce.
That you have so much graced my mother’s house
With your desirèd presence, worthy knight,
Receive a poor maid’s thanks. Who’s there? a chair
And cushion for Sir Harry.
Sir Harry.
Thanks, most fair.
Luce.
Please you but a few minutes here to stay,
Till my return, I’ll not be long away.
Sencer.
The gentlewoman will wait on you by and by, sir.
[ExeuntLuceandSencer.
Sir Harry.
And I’ll attend her, friend.
Of all those doubts I long to know the end.
Enter theWise-woman,SencerandLuce.To them enter 2ndLuceandOldChartley.
2nd Luce.
The knight you seek was here, or will be straight,
And, if you be the man you name yourself,
You are most welcome, and you shall not back
Till you have seen Sir Harry.
Old Chartley.
Gentle youth,
I saw him enter here, and under privilege
Of his acquaintance made I bold to stay.
2nd Luce.
And you are welcome, sir; sit down, I pray.
[Takes him into one of the inner rooms.
Wise-woman.
Now they are placed in several rooms, that look into this one. Were Chartley come we had all our company.
Sencer.
Hark, there’s one knocks; ’tis Chartley, on my life.
Luce.
One of you let him in, whilst I prepare me
To entertain his coming.
[ExeuntSencerandWise-woman.
EnterYoungChartley,ushered in bySencer,who retires.
Young Chartley.
What, old acquaintance Luce! Not a word? yet some lip-labour if thou lovest me.
Gratiana.[In an inner room.]
My husband![59]
Sir Harry.[In another inner room.]
What, young Chartley!
Old Chartley.[Also in an inner room.]
How! my son!
Young Chartley.
Come, come away with this wailing in woe; if thou put’st finger in the eye a little longer, I shall plunge in pain too presently.
Luce.
O husband, husband!
Gratiana.
Husband!
Young Chartley.
What say’st thou, my sweet wife?
Gratiana.
Wife! O my heart!
2nd Luce.
[Aside.] In that name wife I claim a poor child’s part.
Luce.
O husband, how have you used me!
Young Chartley.
Nay, how do I mean to use thee, but as a man should use his wife?
Gratiana.
I hope he doth not mean to use her so.
2nd Luce.
[Aside.] I hope so too.
Boyster.[In an inner room.]
My grannam is a witch.
Young Chartley.
Nay, Luce, sweet wife, leave weeping if thou lovest me.
Luce.
Oh, can you blame me, knowing that the fountain
Of all these springs took their first head from you?
You know, you too well know, not three days since
Are past since we were married.
Gratiana.
Married! I can endure no longer.
Sir Harry.
It cannot be.
Old Chartley.
It is not possible.
Boyster.
I’ll be even with thee for this, old grannam.
Luce.
And though we wanted witness upon earth,
Yet Heaven bears record of our nuptial tie.
Young Chartley.
Tush, when we meet in Heaven let’s talk of that.
Nay, come, you ass, you fool, what’s past is past;
Though man and wife, yet I must marry now
Another gallant; here’s thy letter, Luce,
And this night I intend to lodge with thee.
2nd Luce.
[Aside.] I’ll scratch her eyes out first, although I love her.
Young Chartley.
Prithee be merry.
I have made a gull of Grace, and old Sir Harry
Thinks me a great way off. I told the knight
My father lay a-dying, took post-horse,
Rid out of Holborn, turned by Islington,
So hither, wench, to lodge all night with thee.
2nd Luce.
[Aside.] Here’s one saith nay to that.
Old Chartley.
Was that your journey?
Young Chartley.
Why,[60]I have too much Grace already.
Boyster.
Thou hast no grace at all.
Young Chartley.
Nay, let’s to bed; if thou couldst but imagine how I love thee, Luce!
Luce.
How is it possible you can love me, and go about to marry another?
Young Chartley.
Dost thou not know she’s rich? Why, you fool, as soon as I have got her dower, it is but giving her a dram, or a pill to purge melancholy, to make her turn up her heels, and then with all that wealth come I to live with thee, my sweet rascal.
Gratiana.[Coming from the inner room.]
She thanks you, and is much beholding to you.
Young Chartley.
I am betrayed!
Gratiana.
Art thou my suitor? wouldst thou marry me,
And thy first wife alive? then poison me,
To purchase my poor dower?
Young Chartley.
What shall I say, or think, or do? I am at a nonplus.
Gratiana.
Hast thou the face, thou brazen impudence,
To look upon me?—past grace!
Young Chartley.
Thou canst not properly call me past Grace, for I never enjoyed thee yet. I cannot tell whether I blush or no, but I have now at this time more Grace than I can tell what to do with.
Gratiana.
Who drew thee to this folly?
Young Chartley.
Who but the old dotard thy father, who when I was honestly married to a civil maid, he persuaded me to leave her? I was loth at first, but after entreating, urging, and offering me large proffers, I must confess I was seduced to come a-wooing to thee.
Gratiana.
My father, villain!
Young Chartley.
Ay, thy father, Grace. And were he here would justify it to the old dotard’s face.
EnterSirHarry.
Sir Harry.
Vile boy, thou dar’st not be so impudent!
When did I meet thee, seek or sue to thee?
When? Name the day, the month, the hour, the year.
Young Chartley.
Plots, plots! I can but cry you mercy both. Say that I have done you wrong, I can be but sorry for it. But, indeed, to clear you, and lay the fault where it ought to be, all this comes from mine own father in the country, who hearing I had married with Luce, sends me word, of his blessing,[61]to be divorced from her, and to come a suitor to your daughter. I think you have his hand and seal to show.
EnterOldChartley.
Old Chartley.
My hand and seal! When was that letter writ?
Young Chartley.
Heyday, if you get one word more of me to-night but scurvy looks, I’ll give you leave to hang me.
Sir Harry.
Vile boy!
Old Chartley.
Ungracious villain!
Gratiana.
Treacherous youth!
Sir Harry.
No grace at all!
Young Chartley.
No Grace.
Old Chartley.
This is bad company who hath seduced thee!
Speak, on my blessing, who hath thus misled thee?
But no more lies, I charge thee.
Young Chartley.
Bad company hath been the shame of me. I was as virtuously given as any youth in Europe, till I fell into one Boyster’s company; ’tis he that hath done all the harm upon me.
Boyster.
[Aside.] I!
Old Chartley.
And if he should deny it?
EnterBoyster.
Boyster.
What then? you’d cry him mercy.
Young Chartley.
I had best bite out my tongue, and speak no more. What shall I do, or what shall I say? There is no outfacing them all. Gentlemen, fathers, wives, or what else, I have wronged you all. I confess it that I have—what would you more? Will any of you rail of me? I’ll bear it. Will any of you beat me? So they strike not too hard, I’ll suffer it. Will any of you challenge me? I’ll answer it. What would you have me say or do? One of these I have married, the other I have betrothed, yet both maids for me. Will you have me take one, and leave the tother? I will. Will you have me keep them both? I will.
EnterLuce’sFather.
Luce’s Father.
Perjured! not mine.
Young Chartley.
What, you here too? Nay, then, I see all my good friends are met together. Wilt thou have me, Luce? I am thy husband, and had I not loved thee better than Grace, I had not disappointed the marriage day to-morrow.
Luce.
Lascivious! no.
Young Chartley.
Wilt thou have me, Grace?—for had I not loved thee better than Luce, I would never after I had married her been contracted to thee.
Gratiana.
Inconstant! no.
Young Chartley.
Then, neither married man, widower, nor bachelor, what’s to be done? Here’s even the proverb verified—between two stools, the tail goes to ground.
Sir Harry.
Now I bethink me, this our meeting here is wondrous strange. Call in the gentlewoman that owns this house.
EnterSencerno longer disguised, and theWise-woman.
Boyster.
Old trot, I’ll trounce thee.
Here is the marriage proved ’twixt Luce and Chartley:
Witch, this was not your promise.
Wise-woman.
Have patience, and in the end we’ll pay you all. Your worships are most heartily welcome. I made bold to send for you, and you may see to what end, which was to discover unto you the wild vagaries of this wanton wag-pasty—a wild oats I warrant him—and, Sir Harry, that your daughter hath scaped this scouring, thank this gentleman, and then make of him as he deserves.
Sir Harry.
Oh, I remember him.
Gratiana.
He never pleased mine eye so well as now.
I know his love, and he in Chartley’s place
My favour shall possess.
Sencer.
Thanks, my sweet Grace.
Sir Harry.
Ay, and the more the inconstant youth to spite,
Sencer, I give her thee in Chartley’s sight.
Young Chartley.
There’s one gone already; but this is my wife, and her I’ll keep in spite both of the devil and his dam.
Wise-woman.
Not from her lawful husband!
Young Chartley.
That am I.
Wise-woman.
That is the gentleman [pointing toBoyster],—accept him, Luce; and you the like of her—nay, I’ll make it good. This gentleman married you visarded, you him disguised, mistaking him for Chartley, which none but my boy Jack was privy to: after she changed her habit with him, as you with Jack; and you in Mistress Luce’s habit—
Luce.
May I believe you, mother?
Wise-woman.
This be your token.
Boyster.
Her that I married, I wrung twice by the finger.
Luce.
Of that token, my hand was sensible.
Boyster.
And ere the clamorous and loud noise begun,
I whispered to her thus— [Whispers.
Luce.
You are the man.
Boyster.
Thanks, grannam; what thou promised thou hast done.
Luce’s Father.
And, leaving him, I take you for my son.
Young Chartley.
Two gone! then where’s the third? This makes me mad.
Where is my wife, then? for a wife I had.
Wise-woman.
Not see thy wife? Come hither, Jack, my boy.
Nay, take him to thee, and with him all joy.
Old Chartley.
Well art thou served to be a general scorn
To all thy blood: and, if not for our sakes,
For thy soul’s health and credit of the world,
Have some regard to me—to me thy father.
Young Chartley.
Enough, sir: if I should say I would become a new man, you would not take my word; if I should swear I would amend my life, you would not take mine oath; if I should bind myself to become an honest man, you would scarce take my bond.
Old Chartley.
I should do none of these.
Young Chartley.
Then see, sir: when to all your judgments I see me past grace, do I lay hold of grace, and here begin to retire myself. This woman hath lent me a glass, in which I see all my imperfections, at which my conscience doth more blush inwardly than my face outwardly; and now I dare confidently undertake for myself I am honest.
2nd Luce.
Then I dare confidently undertake to help you to a wife who desires to have an honest man or none. Look on me well: simple though I stand here, I am your wife. Blush not at your folly, man. Perhaps I have more in me than you expect from me.
Young Chartley.
Knavery and riot, both which are now to me foreign.
2nd Luce.
You and I have been better acquainted, and yet search me not too far, lest you shame me; look on me well—nay better, better yet;—I’ll assure you I left off a petticoat when I put on these breeches. What say you now? [She scatters her hair.