Val.'Slife how do I live? why, what dull fool would ask that question? three hundred three pilds more, I and live bravely: the better half o'th' Town live most gloriously, and ask them what states they have, or what Annuities, or when they pray for seasonable Harvests: thou hast a handsome Wit, stir into the world,Frank, stir, stir for shame, thou art a pretty Scholar: ask how to live? write, write, write any thing, the World's a fine believing World, write News.
Lan.Dragons inSussex, Sir, or fiery Battels seen in the Air atAspurge.
Val.There's the wayFrank, and in the tail of these, fright me the Kingdom with a sharp Prognostication, that shall scowr them, Dearth upon Dearth, like leven Taffaties, predictions of Sea-breaches, Wars, and want of Herrings on our Coast, with bloudy Noses.
Lan.Whirl-winds, that shall take off the top ofGranthamSteeple, and clap it onPauls, and after these, a Lenvoy to the City for their sins.
Val.Probatum est, thou canst not want a pension, go switch me up a Covey of young Scholars, there's twenty nobles, and two loads of Coals, are not these ready wayes? Cosmography thou art deeply read in, draw me a Map from the Mermaid, I mean a midnight Map to scape the Watches, and such long sensless examinations, and Gentlemen shall feed thee, right good Gentlemen, I cannot stay long.
Lan.You have read learnedly, and would you have him follow these Megera's, did you begin with Ballads?
Fran.Well, I will leave you, I see my wants are grown ridiculous, yours may be so, I will not curse you neither; you may think, when these wanton fits are over, who bred me, and who ruined me, look to your self, Sir, a providence I wait on.
Val.Thou art passionate, hast thou been brought up with Girls?
EnterShorthosewith a bag.
Short.Rest you merry, Gentlemen.
Val.Not so merry as you suppose, Sir.
Short.Pray stay a while, and let me take a view of you, I may put my Spoon into the wrong Pottage-pot else.
Val.Why, wilt thou muster us?
Short.No, you are not he, you are a thought too handsome.
Lan.Who wouldst thou speak withal, why dost thou peep so?
Short.I am looking birds nests, I can find none in your bush beard, I would speak with you, black Gentleman.
Fran.With me, my friend?
Short.Yes sure, and the best friend, Sir, it seems you spake withal this twelve-month, Gentleman, there's money for you.
Val.How?
Short.There's none for you, Sir, be not so brief, not a penny; law how he itches at it, stand off, you stir my colour.
Lan.Take it, 'tis money.
Short.You are too quick too, first be sure you have it, you seem to be a Faulkoner, but a foolish one.
Lan.Take it, and say nothing.
Short.You are cozen'd too, 'tis take it, and spend it.
Fran.From whom came it, Sir?
Short.Such another word, and you shall have none on't.
Fran.I thank you, Sir, I doubly thank you.
Short.Well, Sir, then buy you better Cloaths, and get your Hat drest, and your Laundress to wash your Boots white.
Fran.Pray stay Sir, may you not be mistaken.
Short.I think I am, give me the money again, come quick, quick, quick.
Fran.I would be loth to render, till I am sure it be so.
Short.Hark in your ear, is not your nameFrancisco?
Fran.Yes.
Short.Be quiet then, it may Thunder a hundred times, before such stones fall: do you not need it?
Fran.Yes.
Short.And 'tis thought you have it.
Fran.I think I have.
Short.Then hold it fast, 'tis not fly-blown, you may pay for the poundage, you forget your self, I have not seen a Gentleman so backward, a wanting Gentleman.
Fran.Your mercy, Sir.
Short.Friend, you have mercy, a whole bag full of mercy, be merry with it, and be wise.
Fran.I would fain, if it please you, but know—
Short.It does not please me, tell over your money, and be not mad, Boy.
Val.You have no more such bags?
Short.More such there are, Sir, but few I fear for you, I have cast your water, you have wit, you need no money.[Exit.
Lan.Be not amazed, Sir, 'tis good gold, good old gold, this is restorative, and in good time, it comes to do you good, keep it and use it, let honest fingers feel it, yours be too quick Sir.
Fran.He named me, and he gave it me, but from whom.
Lan.Let 'em send more, and then examine it, this can be but a
Fran.Being a stranger, of whom can I deserve this?
Lan.Sir, of any man that has but eyes, and manly understanding to find mens wants, good men are bound to do so.
Val.Now you see,Frank, there are more wayes than certainties, now you believe: What Plough brought you this Harvest, what sale of Timber, Coals, or what Annuities? These feed no Hinds, nor wait the expectation of Quarterdaies, you see it showers in to you, you are an Ass, lie plodding, and lie fooling, about this Blazing Star, and that bo-peep, whining, and fasting, to find the natural reason why a Dog turns twice about before he lie down, what use of these, or what joy in Annuities, where every man's thy study, and thy Tenant, I am ashamed on thee.
Lan.Yes, I have seen this fellow, there's a wealthy Widow hard by.
Val.Yes marry is there.
Lan.I think he's her servant, or I am couzen'd else, I am sure on't.
Fran.I am glad on't.
Lan.She's a good Woman.
Fran.I am gladder.
Lan.And young enough believe.
Fran.I am gladder of all, Sir.
Val.Frank, you shall lye with me soon.
Fran.I thank my money.
Lan.His money shall lie with me, three in a Bed, Sir, will be too much this weather.
Val.Meet me at the Mermaid, and thou shalt see what things—
Lan.Trust to your self Sir.[ExeuntFran.andVal.
EnterFount. Bella.andValentine.
Fount.OValentine!
Val.How now, why do you look so?
Bella.The Widow's going, man.
Val.Why let her go, man.
Hare.She's going out o'th' Town.
Val.The Town's the happier, I would they were all gone.
Fount.We cannot come to speak with her.
Val.Not to speak to her?
Bel.She will be gone within this hour, either nowVal.
Fount.Hare.Now, now, now, goodVal.
Val.I had rather march i'th' mouth o'th' Cannon, but adiew, if she be above ground, go, away to your prayers, away I say, away, she shall be spoken withall.[Exeunt.
EnterShorthosewith one boot on, Roger,andHumphrey.
Rog.She will go,Shorthose.
Short.Who can help itRoger?
Raph.[within.] Help down with the hangings.
Rog.By and byRaph.I am making up o'th' trunks here.
Raph.Shorthose.
Short.Well.
Raph.Who looks to my Ladys wardrobe?Humphrey.
Hum.Here.
Raph.Down with the boxes in the gallery, and bring away the Coach cushions.
Short.Will it not rain, no conjuring abroad, nor no devices to stop this journey?
Rog.Why go now, why now, why o'th' sudden now? what preparation, what horses have we ready, what provision laid in i'th' Country?
Hum.Not an egge I hope.
Rog.No nor one drop of good drink boyes, there's the devil.
Short.I heartily pray the malt be musty, and then we must come up again.
Hum.What sayes the Steward?
Rog.He's at's wits end, for some four hours since, out of his haste and providence, he mistook the Millars mangie mare, for his own nagge.
Short.And she may break his neck, and save the journy. OhLondonhow I love thee!
Hum.I have no boots nor none I'le buy: or if I had, refuse me if I would venture my ability, before a Cloak-Bag, men are men.
Short.For my part, if I be brought, as I know it will be aimed at, to carry any durty dairy Cream-pot, or any gentle Lady of the Laundry, Chambring, or wantonness behind my Gelding, with all her Streamers, Knapsacks, Glasses, Gugawes, as if I were a running flippery, I'le give 'em leave to cut my girts, and slay me. I'le not be troubled with their Distibations, at every half miles end, I understand my self, and am resolved.
Hum.To morrow night atOlivers! who shall be there boys, who shall meet the wenches?
Rog.The well brew'd stand of Ale, we should have met at!
Short.These griefs like to another Tale ofTroy, would mollifie the hearts of barbarous people, and Tom Butcher weep,Aeneasenters, and now the town's lost.
Raph.Well whither run you, my Lady is mad.
Short.I would she were in Bedlam.
Raph.The carts are come, no hands to help to load 'em? the stuff lies in the hall, the plate. [Within Widow.] Why knaves there, where be these idle fellows?
Short.Shall I ride with one Boot?
Wid.Why where I say?
Raph.Away, away, it must be so.
Short.O for a tickling storm, to last but ten days.[Exeunt.
EnterIsabella,andLuce.
Luc.By my troth Mistris I did it for the best.
Isab.It may be so, butLuce, you have a tongue,a dish of meat in your mouth, which if it were mincedLuce, would do a great deal better.
Luce.I protest Mistress.
Isab.It will be your own one time or other:Walter.
Walter[within.] Anon forsooth.
Isab.Lay my hat ready, my fan and cloak, you are so full of providence; andWalter, tuck up my little box behind the Coach, and bid my maid make ready, my sweet service to your good Lady Mistress; and my dog, good let the Coachman carry him.
Luce.But hear me.
Isab.I am in love sweetLuce, and you are so skilfull, that I must needs undo my self; and hear me, letOliverpack up my Glass discreetly, and see my Curles well carried. O sweetLuce, you have a tongue, and open tongues have open you know what,Luce.
Luce.Pray you be satisfied.
Isab.Yes and contented too, before I leave you: there's aRoger, which some call a Butcher, I speak of certainties, I do not fishLuce, nay do not stare, I have a tongue can talk too: and a Green ChamberLuce, a back door opens to a long Gallerie; there was a nightLuce, do you perceive, do you perceive me yet? O do you blushLuce? a Friday night I saw your Saint,Luce: for t'other box of Marmalade, all's thine sweetRoger, this I heard and kept too.
Luce.E'ne as you are a woman Mistress.
Isab.This I allow as good and Physical sometime, these meetings, and for the cheering of the heart; butLuce, to have your own turn served, and to your friend to be a dog-bolt.
Luce.I confess it Mistress.
Isab.As you have made my sister jealous of me, and foolishly, and childishly pursued it, I have found out your haunt, and traced your purposes; for which mine honour suffers; your best waies must be applied to bring her back again, and seriously and suddenly, that so I may have a means to clear my self, and she a fair opinion of me, else you peevish—
Luce.My power and prayers Mistress.
Isab.What's the matter?
EnterShorthose,andWidow.
Short.I have been with the Gentleman, he has it, much good may do him with it.
Wid.Come, are you ready? you love so to delay time, the day grows on.
Isab.I have sent for a few trifles, when those are come; And now I know your reason.
Wid.Know your own honour then, about your business, see the Coach ready presently, I'le tell you more then.[Ex.Luce,andShorthose.And understand it well, you must not think your sister so tender eyed as not to see your follies, alas I know your heart, and must imagine, and truly too; 'tis not your charitie can coin such sums to give away as you have done, in that you have no wisdomIsabel, no nor modesty, where nobler uses are at home; I tell you, I am ashamed to find this in your years, far more in your discretion, none to chuse but things for pity, none to seal your thoughts on, but one of no abiding, of no name; nothing to bring you to but this, cold and hunger: A jolly Joynture sister, you are happy, no mony, no not ten shillings.
Isab.You search nearly.
Wid.I know it as I know your folly, one that knows not where he shall eat his next meal, take his rest, unless it be i'th' stocks; what kindred has he, but a more wanting Brother, or what vertues.
Isab.You have had rare intelligence, I see, sister.
Wid.Or say the man had vertue, is vertue in this age a full inheritance? what Joynture can he make you,Plutarchs Morals, or so much penny rent in the small Poets? this is not well, 'tis weak, and I grieve to know it.
Isab.And this you quit the town for?
Wid.Is't not time?
Isab.You are better read in my affairs than I am, that's all I have to answer, I'le go with you, and willingly, and what you think most dangerous, I'le sit laugh at. For sister 'tis not folly but good discretion governs our main fortunes.
Wid.I am glad to hear you say so.
Isa.I am for you.
EnterShorthose,andHumphrey,with riding rods.
Hum.The Devil cannot stay her, she'l on't, eat an egg now, and then we must away.
Short.I am gaul'd already, yet I will pray, mayLondonwayes from henceforth be full of holes, and Coaches crack their wheels, may zealous Smiths so housel all our Hackneys, that they may feel compunction in their feet, and tire atHigh-gate, may it rain above all Almanacks till Carriers sail, and the Kings Fish-monger ride likeBike Arionupon a Trout toLondon.
Hum.At S.Albanes, let all the Inns be drunk, not an Host sober to bid her worship welcom.
Short.Not a Fiddle, but all preach't down with Puritans; no meat but Legs of Beef.
Hum.No beds but Wool-Packs.
Short.And those so crammed with Warrens of starved Fleas that bite like Bandogs; letMimsbe angry at their S.Bel-Swagger, and we pass in the heat on't and be beaten, beaten abominably, beaten horse and man, and all my Ladies linnen sprinkled with suds and dish-water.
Short.Not a wheel but out of joynt.
EnterRogerlaugh-ing.
Hum.Why dost thou laugh?
Rog.There's a Gentleman, and the rarest Gentleman, and makes the rarest sport.
Short.Where, where?
Rog.Within here, h'as made the gayest sport withTomthe Coachman, so tewed him up with Sack that he lies lashing a But of Malmsie for his Mares.
Short.'Tis very good.
Rog.And talks and laughs, and sings the rarest songs, andShorthose, he has so maul'd the Red Deer pies, made such an alms i'th' butterie.
Short.Better still.
EnterVal. Widow.
Hum.My Lady in a rage with the Gentleman?
Short.May he anger her into a feather.[Exeunt.
Wid.I pray tell me, who sent you hither? for I imagine it is not your condition, you look so temperately, and like a Gentleman, to ask me these milde questions.
Val.Do you think I use to walk of errands, gentle Lady, or deal with women out of dreams from others?
Wid.You have not know[n] me sure?
Val.Not much.
Wid.What reason have you then to be so tender of my credit, you are no kinsman?
Val.If you take it so, the honest office that I came to do you, is not so heavy but I can return it: now I perceive you are too proud, not worth my visit.
Wid.Pray stay, a little proud.
Val.Monstrous proud, I griev'd to hear a woman of your value, and your abundant parts stung by the people, but now I see 'tis true, you look upon me as if I were a rude and saucie fellow that borrowed all my breeding from a dunghil, or such a one, as should now fall and worship you in hope of pardon: you are cozen'd Lady, I came to prove opinion a loud liar, to see a woman only great in goodness, and Mistress of a greater fame than fortune, but—
Wid.You are a strange Gentleman, if I were proud now, I should be monstrous angry, which I am not, and shew the effects of pride; I should despise you, but you are welcom Sir: To think well of our selves, if we deserve it, it is a lustre in us, and every good we have, strives to shew gracious, what use is it else? old age like Seer-trees, is seldom seen affected, stirs sometimes at rehearsal of such acts as his daring youth endeavour'd.
Val.This is well, and now you speak to the purpose, you please me, but to be place proud?
Wid.If it be our own, why are we set here with distinction else, degrees, and orders given us? In you men, 'tis held a coolness, if you lose your right, affronts and loss of honour: streets, and walls, and upper ends of tables, had they tongues could tell what blood has followed, and what feud about your ranks; are we so much below you, that till you have us, are the tops of nature, to be accounted drones without a difference? you will make us beasts indeed.
Val.Nay worse than this too, proud of your cloaths, theyswear a Mercers Lucifer, a tumour tackt together by a Taylour, nay yet worse, proud of red and white, a varnish that butter-milk can better.
Wid.Lord, how little will vex these poor blind people! if my cloaths be sometimes gay and glorious, does it follow, my mind must be my Mercers too? or say my beauty please some weak eyes, must it please them to think, that blows me up, that every hour blows off? this is an Infants anger.
Val.Thus they say too, what though you have a Coach lined through with velvet, and four fairFlandersmares, why should the streets be troubled continually with you, till Carmen curse you? can there be ought in this but pride of shew Lady, and pride of bum-beating, till the learned lawyers with their fat bags, are thrust against the bulks till all their causes crack? why should this Lady, and t'other Lady, and the third sweet Lady, and Madam atMile-end, be daily visited, and your poorer neighbours, with course napfes neglected, fashions conferr'd about, pouncings, and paintings, and young mens bodies read on like Anatomies.
Wid.You are very credulous, and somewhat desperate, to deliver this Sir, to her you know not, but you shall confess me, and find I will not start; in us all meetings lie open to these lewd reports, and our thoughts at Church, our very meditations some will swear, which all should fear to judge, at least uncharitably, are mingled with your memories, cannot sleep, but this sweet Gentleman swims in our fancies, that scarlet man of war, and that smooth senior; not dress our heads without new ambushes, how to surprize that greatness, or that glorie; our very smiles are subject to constructions; nay Sir, it's come to this we cannot pish, but 'tis a favour for some fool or other: should we examine you thus, wer't not possible to take you without Perspectives?
[Val.] It may be, but these excuse not.
Wid.Nor yours force no truth Sir, what deadly tongues you have, and to those tongues what hearts, and what inventions? O' my conscience, and 'twere not for sharp justice, you would venture to aim at your own mothers, and account it glorie to say you had done so: all you think are counsels, and cannot erre, 'tis we still that shew double, giddy, or gorg'd with passion; we that build Babels for mens conclusions, wethat scatter, as day does his warm light; our killing curses over Gods creatures, next to the devils malice: lets intreat your good words.
Val.Well, this woman has a brave soul.
Wid.Are not we gaily blest then, and much beholding to you for your substance? you may do what you list, we what beseems us, and narrowly do that too, and precisely, our names are served in else at Ordinaries, and belcht abroad in Taverns.
Val.O most brave Wench, and able to redeem an age of women.
Wid.You are no Whoremasters? Alas, no, Gentlemen, it were an impudence to think you vicious: you are so holy, handsome Ladies fright you, you are the cool things of the time, the temperance, meer Emblems of the Law, and veils of Vertue, you are not daily mending like Dutch Watches, and plastering like old Walls; they are not Gentlemen, that with their secret sins increase our Surgeons, and lie in Foraign Countries, for new sores; Women are all these Vices; you are not envious, false, covetous, vain-glorious, irreligious, drunken, revengeful, giddie-eyed like Parrots, eaters of others honours.
Val.You are angry.
Wid.No by my troth, and yet I could say more too, for when men make me angry, I am miserable.
Val.Sure 'tis a man, she could not bear it thus bravely else, it may be I am tedious.
Wid.Not at all, Sir, I am content at this time you should trouble me.
Val.You are distrustful.
Wid.Where I find no truth, Sir.
Val.Come, come, you are full of passion.
Wid.Some I have, I were too near the nature o' God else.
Val.You are monstrous peevish.
Wid.Because they are monstrous foolish, and know not how to use that should try me.
Val.I was never answered thus; were you never drunk Lady?
Wid.No sure, not drunk, Sir; yet I love good Wine, as I love health and joy of heart, but temperately, why do you ask that question?
Val.For that sin that they most charge you with, is this sin's servant, they say you are monstrous—
Wid.What, Sir, what?
Pal.Most strangely.
Wid.It has a name sure?
Pal.Infinitely lustful, without all bounds, they swear you kill'd your Husband.
Wid.Let us have it all for Heavens sake, 'tis good mirth, Sir.
Val.They say you will have four now, and those four stuck in four quarters, like four winds to cool you: will she not cry nor curse?
Wid.On with your story.
Val.And that you are forcing out of dispensations with sums of money to that purpose.
Wid.Four Husbands! should not I be blest, Sir, for example? Lord, what should I do with them? turn a Malt-mill, or Tithe them out like Town-bulls to my Tenants, you come to make me angry, but you cannot.
Val.I'le make you merry then, you are a brave Woman, and in despite of envy a right one, go thy wayes, truth thou art as good a Woman, as any Lord of them all can lay his Leg over, I do not often commend your Sex.
Wid.It seems so, your commendations are so studied for.
Val.I came to see you and sift you into Flowr to know your pureness, and I have found you excellent, I thank you; continue so, and shew men how to tread, and women how to follow: get an Husband, an honest man, you are a good woman, and live hedg'd in from scandal, let him be too an understanding man, and to that stedfast; 'tis pity your fair Figure should miscarry, and then [you] are fixt: farewel.
Wid.Pray stay a little, I love your company now you are so pleasant, and to my disposition set so even.
Val.I can no longer.[Exit.
Wid.As I live a fine fellow, this manly handsome bluntness shews him honest; what is he, or from whence? bless me, four Husbands! how prettily he fooled me into Vices, to stir my jealousie, and find my nature; a proper Gentleman: I am not well o'th' sudden, such a companion I could live and dye with, his angers are meer mirth.
EnterIsabella.
Isa.Come, come, I am ready.
Wid.Are you so?
Isa.What ails she? the Coach stales, and the people, the day goes on, I am as ready now as you desire, Sister: fie, who stays now, why do you sit and pout thus?
Wid.Prethee be quiet, I am not well.
Isa.For Heav'us sake let's not ride staggering in the night, come, pray you take some Sweet-meats in your pocket, if your stomach—
Wid.I have a little business.
Isab.To abuse me, you shall not find new dreams, and new suspicions, to horse withal.
Wid.Lord who made you a Commander! hey ho, my heart.
Isab.Is the wind come thither, and Coward like, do you lose your Colours to 'em? are you sick o'th'Valentine? sweet Sister, come let's away, the Country will so quicken you, and we shall live so sweetly:Luce, my Ladies Cloak; nay, you have put me into such a gog of going, I would not stay for all the world; if I live here, you have so knock'd this love into my head, that I shall love any body, and I find my body, I know not how, so apt—pray let's be gone, Sister, I stand on thorns.
Wid.I pretheeIsabella, i'faith I have some business that concerns me, I will suspect no more, here, wear that for me, and I'le pay the hundred pound you owe your Taylor.
EnterShorthose, Roger, Humphrey, Ralph.
Isab.I had rather go, but—
Wid.Come walk in with me, we'll go to Cards, unsaddle the Horses.
Short.A Jubile, a Jubile, we stay, Boys.
EnterUncle, Lan. Foun. Bella. Harebrainfollowing.
Unc.Are they behind us?
Lan.Close, close, speak aloud, Sir.
Unc.I am glad my Nephew has so much discretion, at length to find his wants: did she entertain him?
Lance.Most bravely, nobly, and gave him such a welcome!
Unc.For his own sake do you think?
Lance.Most certain, Sir, and in his own cause bestir'd himself too, and wan such liking from her, she dotes on him, h'as the command of all the house already.
Unc.He deals not well with his friends.
Lance.Let him deal on, and be his own friend, he has most need of her.
Unc.I wonder they would put him—
Lan.You are in the right on't, a man that must raise himself, I knew he would couzen 'em, and glad I am he has: he watched occasion, and found it i'th' nick.
Unc.He has deceived me.
Lan.I told you howsoever he wheel'd about, he would charge home at length: how I could laugh now, to think of these tame fools!
Unc.'Twas not well done, because they trusted him, yet.
Bel.Hark you Gentlemen.
Unc.We are upon a business, pray excuse us, they have it home.
Lance.Come let it work good on Gentlemen.[ExeuntUncle, Lance.
Font.'Tis true, he is a knave, I ever thought it.
Hare.And we are fools, tame fools.
Bell.Come let's go seek him, he shall be hang'd before he colt us basely.[Exeunt.
EnterIsabella, Luce.
Isab.Art sure she loves him?
Luce.Am I sure I live? and I have clapt on such a commendation on your revenge.
Isab.Faith, he is a pretty Gentleman.
Luce.Handsome enough, and that her eye has found out.
Isa.He talks the best they say, and yet the maddest.
Luce.H'as the right way.
Isa.How is she?
Luce.Bears it well, as if she cared not, but a man may see with half an eye through all her forced behaviour, and find who is herValentine.
Isa.Come let's go see her, I long to prosecute.
Luce.By no means Mistress, let her take better hold first.
Isab.I could burst now.[Exeunt.
EnterValentine, Fountain, Bellamore, Harebrain.
Val.Upbraid me with your benefits, you Pilchers, you shotten, sold, slight fellows? was't not I that undertook you first from empty barrels, and brought those barking mouths that gaped like bung-holes to utter sence? where got you understanding? who taught you manners and apt carriage to rank your selves? who filled you in fit Taverns? were those born with your worships when you came hither? what brought you from the Universities of moment matter to allow you, besides your small base sentences?
Bell.'Tis well, Sir.
Val.Long Cloaks with two-hand-rapiers, boot-hoses with penny-poses, and twenty fools opinions, who looked on you but piping rites that knew you would be prizing, and Prentices in Paul's Church-yard, that scented your want ofBritainsBooks.
EnterWidow, Luce, Hairbrain.
Font.This cannot save you.
Val.Taunt my integrity you Whelps?
Bell.You may talk the stock we gave you out, but see no further.
Hair.You tempt our patience, we have found you out, and what your trust comes to, ye're well feathered, thank us, and think now of an honest course, 'tis time; men now begin to look, and narrowly into your tumbling tricks, they are stale.
Wid.Is not that he?
Luce.'Tis he.
Wid.Be still and mark him.
Val.How miserable will these poor wretches be when I forsake 'em! but things have their necessities, I am sorry, to what a vomit must they turn again, now to their own dear Dunghil breeding; never hope after I cast you off, you men ofMotley, you most undone things below pity, any that has a soul and six-pence dares relieve you, my name shall bar that blessing, there's your Cloak, Sir, keep it close to you, it may yet preserveyou a fortnight longer from the fool; your Hat, pray be covered, and there's the Sattin that your Worship sent me, will serve you at a Sizes yet.
Fount.Nay, faith Sir, you may e'ne rub these out now.
Val.No such relique, nor the least rag of such a sordid weakness shall keep me warm, these Breeches are mine own, purchased, and paid for, without your compassion, a Christian Breeches founded in Black-Friers, and so I'le maintain 'em.
Hare.So they seem, Sir.
Val.Only the thirteen shillings in these Breeches, and the odd groat, I take it, shall be yours, Sir, a mark to know a Knave by, pray preserve it, do not displease more, but take it presently, now help me off with my Boots.
Hare.We are no Grooms, Sir.
Val.For once you shall be, do it willingly, or by this hand I'le make you.
Bell.To our own, Sir, we may apply our hands.
Val.There's your Hangers, you may deserve a strong pair, and a girdle will hold you without buckles; now I am perfect, and now the proudest of your worships tell me I am beholding to you.
Fount.No such matter.
Val.And take heed how you pity me, 'tis dangerous, exceeding dangerous, to prate of pity; which are the poorer? you are now puppies; I without you, or you without my knowledge? be Rogues, and so be gone, be Rogues and reply not, for if you do—
Bell.Only thus much, and then we'll leave you: the Air is far sharper than our anger, Sir, and these you may reserve to rail in warmer.
Hare.Pray have a care, Sir, of your health.[Ex. Lovers.
Val.Yes Hog-hounds, more than you can have of your wits; 'tis cold, and I am very sensible, extreamly cold too, yet I will not off, till I have shamed these Rascals; I have indured as ill heats as another, and every way if one could perish my body, you'll bear the blame on't; I am colder here, not a poor penny left.
EnterUnclewith a Bag.
Unc.'Thas taken rarely, and now he's flead he will be ruled.
Lan.To him, tew him, abuse him, and nip him close.
Unc.. Why how now, Cousin, sunning your self this weather?
Val.As you see, Sir, in a hot fit, I thank my friends.
Unc.But Cousin, where are your Cloaths man? those are no inheritance, your scruple may compound with those I take it, this is no fashion, Cousin.
Val.Not much followed, I must confess; yet Uncle I determine to try what may be done next Term.
Lance.How came you thus, Sir, for you are strangely moved.
Val.Rags, toys and trifles, fit only for those fools that first possessed 'em, a[n]d to those Knaves they are rendred. Freemen, Uncle, ought to appear like innocents, oldAdam, a fair Fig-leaf sufficient.
Unc.Take me with you, were these your friends, that clear'd you thus?
Val.Hang friends, and even reckonings that make friends.
Unc.I thought till now, there had been no such living, no such purchase, for all the rest is labour, as a list of honourable friends; do such men as you, Sir, in lieu of all your understandings, travels, and those great gifts of nature, aim at no more than casting off your Coats? I am strangely cozen'd.
Lance.Should not the Town shake at the cold you feel now, and all the Gentry suffer interdiction, no more sense spoken, all thingsGothandVandal, till you be summed again, Velvets and Scarlets, anointed with gold Lace, and Cloth of silver turned intoSpanishCottens for a penance, wits blasted with your Bulls and Taverns withered, as though the Term lay atSt. Albans?
Val.Gentlemen, you have spoken long and level, I beseech you take breath a while and hear me; you imagine now, by the twirling of your strings, that I am at the last, as also that my friends are flown like Swallows after Summer.
Unc.Yes, Sir.
Val.And that I have no more in this poor Pannier, to raise me up again above your rents, Uncle.
Unc.All this I do believe.
Val.You have no mind to better me.
Unc.Yes, Cousin, and to that end I come, and once more offer you all that my power is master of.
Val.A match then, lay me down fifty pounds there.
Unc.There it is, Sir.
Val.And on it write, that you are pleased to give this, as due unto my merit, without caution of land redeeming, tedious thanks, or thrift hereafter to be hoped for.
Unc.How?[Lucelays a Suit and Letter at the door.
Val.Without daring, when you are drunk, to relish of revilings, to which you are prone in Sack, Uncle.
Unc.I thank you, Sir.
Lance.Come, come away, let the young wanton play a while, away I say, Sir, let him go forward with his naked fashion, he will seek you too morrow; goodly weather, sultry hot, sultry, how I sweat!
Unc.Farewel, Sir.[ExeuntUncleandLance.
Val.Would I sweat too, I am monstrous vext, and cold too; and these are but thin pumps to walk the streets in; clothes I must get, this fashion will not fadge with me; besides, 'tis an ill winter wear,—What art thou? yes, they are clothes, and rich ones, some fool has left 'em: and if I should utter—what's this paper here? Let these be only worn by the most noble and deserving GentlemanValentine,—dropt out o'th' clouds! I think they are full of gold too; well, I'le leave my wonder, and be warm again, in the next house I'le shift.[Exit.
EnterFrancisco, Uncle,andLance.
Fran.Why do you deal thus with him? 'tis unnobly.
Unc.Peace Cousin peace, you are too tender of him, he must be dealt thus with, he must be cured thus, the violence of his diseaseFrancisco,must not be jested with, 'tis grown infectious, and now strong Corrosives must cure him.
Lance.H'as had a stinger, has eaten off his clothes, the next his skin comes.
Unc.And let it search him to the bones, 'tis better, 'twill make him feel it.
Lance.Where be his noble friends now? will his fantastical opinions cloath him, or the learned Art of having nothing feed him?