Epicoene; Or, The Silent Woman

   SCENE 2.3.

   A ROOM IN MOROSE'S HOUSE.

   ENTER MOROSE AND MUTE, FOLLOWED BY CUTBEARD WITH EPICOENE.

   MOR: Welcome Cutbeard! draw near with your fair charge: and in her
   ear softly entreat her to unmasthey.
   [EPI. TAKES OFF HER MASK.]
   —So! Is the door shut?
   [MUTE MAKES A LEG.]
   —Enough. Now, Cutbeard, with the same discipline I use to my
   family, I will question you. As I conceive, Cutbeard, this
   gentlewoman is she you have provided, and brought, in hope she
   will fit me in the place and person of a wife? Answer me not, but
   with your leg, unless it be otherwise:
   [CUT. MAKES A LEG.]
   —Very well done, Cutbeard. I conceive, besides, Cutbeard, you
   have been pre-acquainted with her birth, education, and qualities,
   or else you would not prefer her to my acceptance, in the weighty
   consequence of marriage.
   [CUT. MAKES A LEG.]
   —This I conceive, Cutbeard. Answer me not but with your leg, unless
   it be otherwise.
   [CUT. BOWS AGAIN.]
   —Very well done, Cutbeard. Give aside now a little, and leave me to
   examine her condition, and aptitude to my affection.
   [HE GOES ABOUT HER, AND VIEWS HER.]
   —She is exceeding fair, and of a special good favour; a sweet
   composition or harmony of limbs: her temper of beauty has the
   true height of my blood. The knave hath exceedingly well fitted me
   without: I will now try her within. Come near, fair gentlewoman:
   let not my behaviour seem rude, though unto you, being rare, it
   may haply appear strange.
   [EPICOENE CURTSIES.]
   —Nay, lady, you may speak, though Cutbeard and my man, might not;
   for, of all sounds, only the sweet voice of a fair lady has the
   just length of mine ears. I beseech you, say, lady; out of the
   first fire of meeting eyes, they say, love is stricken: do you
   feel any such motion suddenly shot into you, from any part you see
   in me? ha, lady?
   [EPICOENE CURTSIES.]
   —Alas, lady, these answers by silent curtsies from you are too
   courtless and simple. I have ever had my breeding in court: and
   she that shall be my wife, must be accomplished with courtly and
   audacious ornaments. Can you speak, lady?

   EPI: [softly.] Judge you, forsooth.

   MOR: What say you, lady? speak out, I beseech you.

   EPI: Judge you, forsooth.

   MOR: On my judgment, a divine softness! But can you naturally,
   lady, as I enjoin these by doctrine and industry, refer yourself
   to the search of my judgment, and, not taking pleasure in your
   tongue, which is a woman's chiefest pleasure, think it plausible
   to answer me by silent gestures, so long as my speeches jump
   right with what you conceive?
   [EPI. CURTSIES.]
   —Excellent! divine! if it were possible she should hold out thus!
   Peace, Cutbeard, thou art made for ever, as thou hast made me, if
   this felicity have lasting: but I will try her further. Dear lady,
   I am courtly, I tell you, and I must have mine ears banqueted with
   pleasant and witty conferences, pretty girls, scoffs, and
   dalliance in her that I mean to choose for my bed-phere. The
   ladies in court think it a most desperate impair to their
   quickness of wit, and good carriage, if they cannot give
   occasion for a man to court 'em; and when an amorous discourse is
   set on foot, minister as good matter to continue it, as himself:
   And do you alone so much differ from all them, that what they,
   with so much circumstance, affect and toil for, to seem
   learn'd, to seem judicious, to seem sharp and conceited, you
   can bury in yourself with silence, and rather trust your graces
   to the fair conscience of virtue, than to the world's or your own
   proclamation?

   EPI [SOFTLY]: I should be sorry else.

   MOR: What say you lady? good lady, speak out.

   EPI: I should be sorry else.

   MOR: That sorrow doth fill me with gladness. O Morose, thou art
   happy above mankind! pray that thou mayest contain thyself. I
   will only put her to it once more, and it shall be with the utmost
   touch and test of their sex. But hear me, fair lady; I do also
   love to see her whom I shall choose for my heifer, to be the
   first and principal in all fashions; precede all the dames at
   court by a fortnight; have council of tailors, lineners,
   lace-women, embroiderers, and sit with them sometimes twice a day
   upon French intelligences; and then come forth varied like
   nature, or oftener than she, and better by the help of art, her
   emulous servant. This do I affect: and how will you be able, lady,
   with this frugality of speech, to give the manifold but
   necessary instructions, for that bodice, these sleeves, those
   skirts, this cut, that stitch, this embroidery, that lace, this
   wire, those knots, that ruff, those roses, this girdle, that
   fanne, the t'other scarf, these gloves? Ha! what say you, lady?

   EPI [SOFTLY]: I'll leave it to you, sir.

   MOR: How, lady? pray you rise a note.

   EPI: I leave it to wisdom and you, sir.

   MOR: Admirable creature! I will trouble you no more: I will not
   sin against so sweet a simplicity. Let me now be bold to print on
   those divine lips the seal of being mine.—Cutbeard, I give thee
   the lease of thy house free: thank me not but with thy leg
   [CUTBEARD SHAKES HIS HEAD.]
   —I know what thou wouldst say, she's poor, and her friends
   deceased. She has brought a wealthy dowry in her silence, Cutbeard;
   and in respect of her poverty, Cutbeard, I shall have her more
   loving and obedient, Cutbeard. Go thy ways, and get me a minister
   presently, with a soft low voice, to marry us; and pray him he will
   not be impertinent, but brief as he can; away: softly,
   [EXIT CUTBEARD.]
   —Sirrah, conduct your mistress into the dining-room, your now
   mistress.
   [EXIT MUTE, FOLLOWED BY EPI.]
   —O my felicity! how I shall be revenged on mine insolent kinsman,
   and his plots to fright me from marrying! This night I will get an
   heir, and thrust him out of my blood, like a stranger; he would be
   knighted, forsooth, and thought by that means to reign over me;
   his title must do it: No, kinsman, I will now make you bring me
   the tenth lord's and the sixteenth lady's letter, kinsman; and it
   shall do you no good, kinsman. Your knighthood itself shall come
   on its knees, and it shall be rejected; it shall be sued for its
   fees to execution, and not be redeem'd; it shall cheat at the
   twelvepenny ordinary, it knighthood, for its diet, all the term-
   time, and tell tales for it in the vacation to the hostess; or it
   knighthood shall do worse, take sanctuary in Cole-harbour, and fast.
   It shall fright all its friends with borrowing letters; and when
   one of the fourscore hath brought it knighthood ten shillings, it
   knighthood shall go to the Cranes, or the Bear at the Bridge-foot,
   and be drunk in fear: it shall not have money to discharge one
   tavern-reckoning, to invite the old creditors to forbear it
   knighthood, or the new, that should be, to trust it knighthood. It
   shall be the tenth name in the bond to take up the commodity of
   pipkins and stone jugs: and the part thereof shall not furnish it
   knighthood forth for the attempting of a baker's widow, a brown
   baker's widow. It shall give it knighthood's name, for a stallion,
   to all gamesome citizens' wives, and be refused; when the master
   of a dancing school, or how do you call him, the worst reveller in
   the town is taken: it shall want clothes, and by reason of that,
   wit, to fool to lawyers. It shall not have hope to repair itself
   by Constantinople, Ireland, or Virginia; but the best and last fortune
   to it knighthood shall be to make Dol Tear-Sheet, or Kate Common a
   lady: and so it knighthood may eat.

   [EXIT.]

   SCENE 2.4.

   A LANE, NEAR MOROSE'S HOUSE.

   ENTER TRUEWIT, DAUPHINE,AND CLERIMONT.

   TRUE: Are you sure he is not gone by?

   DAUP: No, I staid in the shop ever since.

   CLER: But he may take the other end of the lane.

   DAUP: No, I told him I would be here at this end: I appointed him
   hither.

   TRUE: What a barbarian it is to stay then!

   DAUP: Yonder he comes.

   CLER: And his charge left behind him, which is a very good sign,
   Dauphine.

   [ENTER CUTBEARD.]

   DAUP: How now Cutbeard! succeeds it, or no?

   CUT: Past imagination, sir, omnia secunda; you could not have
   pray'd to have had it so well. Saltat senex, as it is in the
   proverb; he does triumph in his felicity, admires the party! he
   has given me the lease of my house too! and I am now going for a
   silent minister to marry them, and away.

   TRUE: 'Slight, get one of the silenced ministers, a zealous brother
   would torment him purely.

   CUT: Cum privilegio, sir.

   DAUP: O, by no means, let's do nothing to hinder it now: when it
   is done and finished, I am for you, for any device of vexation.

   CUT: And that shall be within this half hour, upon my dexterity,
   gentlemen. Contrive what you can in the mean time, bonis avibus.

   [EXIT.]

   CLER: How the slave doth Latin it!

   TRUE: It would be made a jest to posterity, sirs, this day's mirth,
   if ye will.

   CLER: Beshrew his heart that will not, I pronounce.

   DAUP: And for my part. What is it?

   TRUE: To translate all La-Foole's company, and his feast thither,
   to-day, to celebrate this bride-ale.

   DAUP: Ay marry; but how will't be done?

   TRUE: I'll undertake the directing of all the lady-guests thither,
   and then the meat must follow.

   CLER: For God's sake, let's effect it: it will be an excellent comedy
   of affliction, so many several noises.

   DAUP: But are they not at the other place already, think you?

   TRUE: I'll warrant you for the college-honours: one of their faces
   has not the priming colour laid on yet, nor the other her smock
   sleek'd.

   CLER: O, but they'll rise earlier then ordinary, to a feast.

   TRUE: Best go see, and assure ourselves.

   CLER: Who knows the house?

   TRUE: I will lead you: Were you never there yet?

   DAUP: Not I.

   CLER: Nor I.

   TRUE: Where have you lived then? not know Tom Otter!

   CLER: No: for God's sake, what is he?

   TRUE: An excellent animal, equal with your Daw or La-Foole, if not
   transcendant; and does Latin it as much as your barber: He is his
   wife's subject, he calls her princess, and at such times as these
   follows her up and down the house like a page, with his hat off,
   partly for heat, partly for reverence. At this instant he is
   marshalling of his bull, bear, and horse.

   DAUP: What be those, in the name of Sphynx?

   TRUE: Why, sir, he has been a great man at the Bear-garden in his
   time; and from that subtle sport, has ta'en the witty denomination
   of his chief carousing cups. One he calls his bull, another his
   bear, another his horse. And then he has his lesser glasses, that
   he calls his deer and his ape; and several degrees of them too;
   and never is well, nor thinks any entertainment perfect, till
   these be brought out, and set on the cupboard.

   CLER: For God's love!—we should miss this, if we should not go.

   TRUE: Nay, he has a thousand things as good, that will speak him
   all day. He will rail on his wife, with certain common places,
   behind her back; and to her face—

   DAUP: No more of him. Let's go see him, I petition you.

   [EXEUNT.]

   SCENE 3.1.

   A ROOM IN OTTER'S HOUSE.

   ENTER CAPTAIN OTTER WITH HIS CUPS, AND MISTRESS OTTER.

   OTT: Nay, good princess, hear me pauca verba.

   MRS. OTT: By that light, I'll have you chain'd up, with your
   bull-dogs, and bear-dogs, if you be not civil the sooner. I will
   send you to kennel, i'faith. You were best bait me with your bull,
   bear, and horse! Never a time that the courtiers or collegiates
   come to the house, but you make it a Shrove-tuesday! I would have
   you get your Whitsuntide velvet cap, and your staff in your hand,
   to entertain them: yes, in troth, do.

   OTT: Not so, princess, neither; but under correction, sweet
   princess, give me leave.—These things I am known to the courtiers
   by: It is reported to them for my humour, and they receive it so,
   and do expect it. Tom Otter's bull, bear, and horse is known all
   over England, in rerum natura.

   MRS. OTT: 'Fore me, I will na-ture them over to Paris-garden, and
   na-ture you thither too, if you pronounce them again. Is a bear a
   fit beast, or a bull, to mix in society with great ladies? think in
   your discretion, in any good policy.

   OTT: The horse then, good princess.

   MRS. OTT: Well, I am contented for the horse: they love to be
   well horsed, I know. I love it myself.

   OTT: And it is a delicate fine horse this. Poetarum Pegasus. Under
   correction, princess, Jupiter did turn himself into a—taurus,
   or bull, under correction, good princess.

   [ENTER TRUEWIT, CLERIMONT, AND DAUPHINE, BEHIND.]

   MRS. OTT: By my integrity, I will send you over to the Bank-side,
   I will commit you to the master of the Garden, if I hear but a
   syllable more. Must my house or my roof be polluted with the
   scent of bears and bulls, when it is perfumed for great ladies?
   Is this according to the instrument, when I married you? that I
   would be princess, and reign in mine own house: and you would be my
   subject, and obey me? What did you bring me, should make you thus
   peremptory? do I allow you your half-crown a day, to spend where
   you will, among your gamsters, to vex and torment me at such
   times as these? Who gives you your maintenance, I pray you? who
   allows you your horse-meat and man's meat? your three suits of
   apparel a year? your four pair of stockings, one silk, three
   worsted? your clean linen, your bands and cuffs, when I can get
   you to wear them?—'tis marle you have them on now.—Who graces you
   with courtiers or great personages, to speak to you out of their
   coaches, and come home to your house? Were you ever so much as
   look'd upon by a lord or a lady, before I married you, but on the
   Easter or Whitsun-holidays? and then out at the banquetting-house
   window, when Ned Whiting or George Stone were at the stake?

   TRUE: For Gods sake, let's go stave her off him.

   MRS. OTT: Answer me to that. And did not I take you up from thence,
   in an old greasy buff-doublet, with points, and green velvet
   sleeves, out at the elbows? you forget this.

   TRUE: She'll worry him, if we help not in time.

   [THEY COME FORWARD.]

   MRS. OTT: O, here are some of the gallants! Go to, behave yourself
   distinctly, and with good morality: or, I protest, I will take
   away your exhibition.

   TRUE: By your leave, fair mistress Otter, I will be bold to enter
   these gentlemen in your acquaintance.

   MRS. OTT: It shall not be obnoxious, or difficil, sir.

   TRUE: How does my noble captain? is the bull, bear, and horse in
   rerum natura still?

   OTT: Sir, sic visum superis.

   MRS. OTT: I would you would but intimate them, do. Go your ways
   in, and get toasts and butter made for the woodcocks. That's a fit
   province for you.

   [DRIVES HIM OFF.]

   CLER: Alas, what a tyranny is this poor fellow married to!

   TRUE: O, but the sport will be anon, when we get him loose.

   DAUP: Dares he ever speak?

   TRUE: No Anabaptist ever rail'd with the like license: but mark
   her language in the mean time, I beseech you.

   MRS. OTT: Gentlemen, you are very aptly come. My cousin, sir
   Amorous, will be here briefly.

   TRUE: In good time lady. Was not sir John Daw here, to ask for
   him, and the company?

   MRS. OTT: I cannot assure you, master Truewit. Here was a very
   melancholy knight in a ruff, that demanded my subject for somebody,
   a gentleman, I think.

   CLER: Ay, that was he, lady.

   MRS. OTT: But he departed straight, I can resolve you.

   DAUP: What an excellent choice phrase this lady expresses in.

   TRUE: O, sir, she is the only authentical courtier, that is not
   naturally bred one, in the city.

   MRS. OTT: You have taken that report upon trust, gentlemen.

   TRUE: No, I assure you, the court governs it so, lady, in your
   behalf.

   MRS. OTT: I am the servant of the court and courtiers, sir.

   TRUE: They are rather your idolaters.

   MRS. OTT: Not so, sir.

   [ENTER CUTBEARD.]

   DAUP: How now, Cutbeard? any cross?

   CUT: O, no, sir, omnia bene. 'Twas never better on the hinges;
   all's sure. I have so pleased him with a curate, that he's gone
   to't almost with the delight he hopes for soon.

   DAUP: What is he for a vicar?

   CUT: One that has catch'd a cold, sir, and can scarce be heard six
   inches off; as if he spoke out of a bulrush that were not pick'd,
   or his throat were full of pith: a fine quick fellow, and an
   excellent barber of prayers. I came to tell you, sir, that you
   might omnem movere lapidem, as they say, be ready with your
   vexation.

   DAUP: Gramercy, honest Cutbeard! be thereabouts with thy key,
   to let us in.

   CUT: I will not fail you, sir: ad manum.

   [EXIT.]

   TRUE: Well, I'll go watch my coaches.

   CLER: Do; and we'll send Daw to you, if you meet him not.

   [EXIT TRUEWIT.]

   MRS. OTT: Is master Truewit gone?

   DAUP: Yes, lady, there is some unfortunate business fallen out.

   MRS. OTT: So I adjudged by the physiognomy of the fellow that came
   in; and I had a dream last night too of a new pageant, and my lady
   mayoress, which is always very ominous to me. I told it my lady
   Haughty t'other day; when her honour came hither to see some
   China stuffs: and she expounded it out of Artemidorus, and I have
   found it since very true. It has done me many affronts.

   CLER: Your dream, lady?

   MRS. OTT: Yes, sir, any thing I do but dream of the city. It
   stain'd me a damasque table-cloth, cost me eighteen pound, at one
   time; and burnt me a black satin gown, as I stood by the fire,
   at my lady Centaure's chamber in the college, another time. A
   third time, at the lord's masque, it dropt all my wire and my
   ruff with wax candle, that I could not go up to the banquet. A
   fourth time, as I was taking coach to go to Ware, to meet a
   friend, it dash'd me a new suit all over (a crimson satin
   doublet, and black velvet skirts) with a brewer's horse, that
   I was fain to go in and shift me, and kept my chamber a leash
   of days for the anguish of it.

   DAUP: These were dire mischances, lady.

   CLER: I would not dwell in the city, an 'twere so fatal to me.

   MRS. OTT: Yes sir, but I do take advice of my doctor to dream
   of it as little as I can.

   DAUP: You do well, mistress Otter.

   MRS. OTT: Will it please you to enter the house farther,
   gentlemen?

   DAUP: And your favour, lady: but we stay to speak with a knight,
   sir John Daw, who is here come. We shall follow you, lady.

   MRS. OTT: At your own time, sir. It is my cousin sir Amorous his
   feast—

   DAUP: I know it, lady.

   MRS. OTT: And mine together. But it is for his honour, and
   therefore I take no name of it, more than of the place.

   DAUP: You are a bounteous kinswoman.

   MRS. OTT: Your servant, sir.

   [EXIT.]

   CLER [COMING FORWARD WITH DAW.]: Why, do not you know it, sir
   John Daw?

   DAW: No, I am a rook if I do.

   CLER: I'll tell you then, she's married by this time. And, whereas
   you were put in the head, that she was gone with sir Dauphine, I
   assure you, sir Dauphine has been the noblest, honestest friend to
   you, that ever gentleman of your quality could boast of. He has
   discover'd the whole plot, and made your mistress so acknowledging,
   and indeed so ashamed of her injury to you, that she desires you
   to forgive her, and but grace her wedding with your presence
   to-day—She is to be married to a very good fortune, she says, his
   uncle, old Morose: and she will'd me in private to tell you, that
   she shall be able to do you more favours, and with more security
   now, than before.

   DAW: Did she say so, i'faith?

   CLER: Why, what do you think of me, sir John? ask sir Dauphine.

   DAUP: Nay, I believe you.—Good sir Dauphine, did she desire me to
   forgive her?

   CLER: I assure you, sir John, she did.

   DAW: Nay, then, I do with all my heart, and I'll be jovial.

   CLER: Yes, for look you, sir, this was the injury to you. La-Foole
   intended this feast to honour her bridal day, and made you the
   property to invite the college ladies, and promise to bring her:
   and then at the time she should have appear'd, as his friend, to
   have given you the dor. Whereas now, Sir Dauphine has brought her
   to a feeling of it, with this kind of satisfaction, that you shall
   bring all the ladies to the place where she is, and be very
   jovial; and there, she will have a dinner, which shall be in your
   name: and so disappoint La-Foole, to make you good again, and, as
   it were, a saver in the main.

   DAW: As I am a knight, I honour her; and forgive her heartily.

   CLER: About it then presently. Truewit is gone before to confront
   the coaches, and to acquaint you with so much, if he meet you.
   Join with him, and 'tis well.—
   [ENTER SIR AMOROUS LAFOOLE.]
   See; here comes your antagonist, but take you no notice, but be
   very jovial.

   LA-F: Are the ladies come, sir John Daw, and your mistress?
   [EXIT DAW.]
   —Sir Dauphine! you are exceeding welcome, and honest master
   Clerimont. Where's my cousin? did you see no collegiates, gentlemen?

   DAUP: Collegiates! do you not hear, sir Amorous, how you are abus'd?

   LA-F: How, sir!

   CLER: Will you speak so kindly to sir John Daw, that has done you
   such an affront?

   LA-F: Wherein, gentlemen? let me be a suitor to you to know, I
   beseech you!

   CLER: Why, sir, his mistress is married to-day to sir Dauphine's
   uncle, your cousin's neighbour, and he has diverted all the ladies,
   and all your company thither, to frustrate your provision, and stick
   a disgrace upon you. He was here now to have enticed us away from
   you too: but we told him his own, I think.

   LA-F: Has sir John Daw wrong'd me so inhumanly?

   DAUP: He has done it, sir Amorous, most maliciously and
   treacherously: but, if youll be ruled by us, you shall quit him,
   i'faith.

   LA-F: Good gentlemen, I'll make one, believe it. How, I pray?

   DAUP: Marry sir, get me your pheasants, and your godwits, and your
   best meat, and dish it in silver dishes of your cousin's presently,
   and say nothing, but clap me a clean towel about you, like a sewer;
   and bare-headed, march afore it with a good confidence, ('tis but
   over the way, hard by,) and we'll second you, where you shall set
   it on the board, and bid them welcome to't, which shall shew 'tis
   yours, and disgrace his preparation utterly: and, for your cousin,
   whereas she should be troubled here at home with care of making and
   giving welcome, she shall transfer all that labour thither, and be
   a principal guest herself, sit rank'd with the college-honours, and
   be honour'd, and have her health drunk as often, as bare and as
   loud as the best of them.

   LA-F: I'll go tell her presently. It shall be done, that's
   resolved.

   [EXIT.]

   CLER: I thought he would not hear it out, but 'twould take him.

   DAUP: Well, there be guests and meat now; how shall we do for
   music?

   CLER: The smell of the venison, going through the street, will
   invite one noise of fiddlers or other.

   DAUP: I would it would call the trumpeters hither!

   CLER: Faith, there is hope: they have intelligence of all feasts.
   There's good correspondence betwixt them and the London cooks:
   'tis twenty to one but we have them.

   DAUP: 'Twill be a most solemn day for my uncle, and an excellent
   fit of mirth for us.

   CLER: Ay, if we can hold up the emulation betwixt Foole and Daw,
   and never bring them to expostulate.

   DAUP: Tut, flatter them both, as Truewit says, and you may take
   their understandings in a purse-net. They'll believe themselves
   to be just such men as we make them, neither more nor less. They
   have nothing, not the use of their senses, but by tradition.

   [RE-ENTER LA-FOOLE, LIKE A SEWER.]

   CLER: See! sir Amorous has his towel on already. Have you persuaded
   your cousin?

   LA-F: Yes, 'tis very feasible: she'll do any thing she says, rather
   than the La-Fooles shall be disgraced.

   DAUP: She is a noble kinswoman. It will be such a pestling device,
   sir Amorous; it will pound all your enemy's practices to powder,
   and blow him up with his own mine, his own train.

   LA-F: Nay, we'll give fire, I warrant you.

   CLER: But you must carry it privately, without any noise, and take
   no notice by any means—

   [RE-ENTER CAPTAIN OTTER.]

   OTT: Gentlemen, my princess says you shall have all her silver
   dishes, festinate: and she's gone to alter her tire a little,
   and go with you—

   CLER: And yourself too, captain Otter?

   DAUP: By any means, sir.

   OTT: Yes, sir, I do mean it: but I would entreat my cousin sir
   Amorous, and you, gentlemen, to be suitors to my princess, that I
   may carry my bull and my bear, as well as my horse.

   CLER: That you shall do, captain Otter.

   LA-F: My cousin will never consent, gentlemen.

   DAUP: She must consent, sir Amorous, to reason.

   LA-F: Why, she says they are no decorum among ladies.

   OTT: But they are decora, and that's better, sir.

   CLER: Ay, she must hear argument. Did not Pasiphae, who was a
   queen, love a bull? and was not Calisto, the mother of Arcas,
   turn'd into a bear, and made a star, mistress Ursula, in the
   heavens?

   OTT: O lord! that I could have said as much! I will have these
   stories painted in the Bear-garden, ex Ovidii metamorphosi.

   DAUP: Where is your princess, captain? pray, be our leader.

   OTT: That I shall, sir.

   CLER: Make haste, good sir Amorous.

   [EXEUNT.]

   SCENE 3.2.

   A ROOM IN MOROSE'S HOUSE.

   ENTER MOROSE, EPICOENE, PARSON, AND CUTBEARD.

   MOR: Sir, there is an angel for yourself, and a brace of angels
   for your cold. Muse not at this manage of my bounty. It is fit we
   should thank fortune, double to nature, for any benefit she
   confers upon us; besides, it is your imperfection, but my solace.

   PAR [SPEAKS AS HAVING A COLD.] I thank your worship; so is it
   mine, now.

   MOR: What says he, Cutbeard?

   CUT: He says, praesto, sir, whensoever your worship needs him, he
   can be ready with the like. He got this cold with sitting up late,
   and singing catches with cloth-workers.

   MOR: No more. I thank him.

   PAR: God keep your worship, and give you much joy with your fair
   spouse.—[COUGHS.] uh! uh! uh!

   MOR: O, O! stay Cutbeard! let him give me five shillings of my
   money back. As it is bounty to reward benefits, so is it equity
   to mulct injuries. I will have it. What says he?

   CUT: He cannot change it, sir.

   MOR: It must be changed.

   CUT [ASIDE TO PARSON.]: Cough again.

   MOR: What says he?

   CUT: He will cough out the rest, sir.

   PAR: Uh, uh, uh!

   MOR: Away, away with him! stop his mouth! away! I forgive it.—

   [EXIT CUT. THRUSTING OUT THE PAR.]

   EPI: Fie, master Morose, that you will use this violence to a man
   of the church.

   MOR: How!

   EPI: It does not become your gravity, or breeding, as you pretend,
   in court, to have offer'd this outrage on a waterman, or any more
   boisterous creature, much less on a man of his civil coat.

   MOR: You can speak then!

   EPI: Yes, sir.

   MOR: Speak out, I mean.

   EPI: Ay, sir. Why, did you think you had married a statue, or a
   motion, only? one of the French puppets, with the eyes turn'd with
   a wire? or some innocent out of the hospital, that would stand
   with her hands thus, and a plaise mouth, and look upon you?

   MOR: O immodesty! a manifest woman! What, Cutbeard!

   EPI: Nay, never quarrel with Cutbeard, sir; it is too late now. I
   confess it doth bate somewhat of the modesty I had, when I writ
   simply maid: but I hope, I shall make it a stock still competent
   to the estate and dignity of your wife.

   MOR: She can talk!

   EPI: Yes, indeed, sir.

   [ENTER MUTE.]

   MOR: What sirrah! None of my knaves there? where is this impostor,
   Cutbeard?

   [MUTE MAKES SIGNS.]

   EPI: Speak to him, fellow, speak to him! I'll have none of this
   coacted, unnatural dumbness in my house, in a family where I
   govern.

   [EXIT MUTE.]

   MOR: She is my regent already! I have married a Penthesilea, a
   Semiramis, sold my liberty to a distaff.

   [ENTER TRUEWIT.]

   TRUE: Where's master Morose?

   MOR: Is he come again! Lord have mercy upon me!

   TRUE: I wish you all joy, mistress Epicoene, with your grave and
   honourable match.

   EPI: I return you the thanks, master Truewit, so friendly a wish
   deserves.

   MOR: She has acquaintance, too!

   TRUE: God save you, sir, and give you all contentment in your fair
   choice, here! Before, I was the bird of night to you, the owl; but
   now I am the messenger of peace, a dove, and bring you the glad
   wishes of many friends to the celebration of this good hour.

   MOR: What hour, sir?

   TRUE: Your marriage hour, sir. I commend your resolution, that,
   notwithstanding all the dangers I laid afore you, in the voice of
   a night-crow, would yet go on, and be yourself. It shews you are
   a man constant to your own ends, and upright to your purposes,
   that would not be put off with left-handed cries.

   MOR: How should you arrive at the knowledge of so much!

   TRUE: Why, did you ever hope, sir, committing the secrecy of it to
   a barber, that less then the whole town should know it? you might
   as well have told it the conduit, or the bake-house, or the
   infantry that follow the court, and with more security. Could
   your gravity forget so old and noted a remnant, as lippis et
   tonsoribus notum? Well, sir, forgive it yourself now, the fault,
   and be communicable with your friends. Here will be three or four
   fashionable ladies from the college to visit you presently, and
   their train of minions and followers.

   MOR: Bar my doors! bar my doors! Where are all my eaters? my
   mouths now?—
   [ENTER SERVANTS.]
   Bar up my doors, you varlets!

   EPI: He is a varlet that stirs to such an office. Let them stand
   open. I would see him that dares move his eyes toward it. Shall I
   have a barricado made against my friends, to be barr'd of any
   pleasure they can bring in to me with their honourable
   visitation?

   [EXEUNT SER.]

   MOR: O Amazonian impudence!

   TRUE: Nay, faith, in this, sir, she speaks but reason: and,
   methinks, is more continent than you. Would you go to bed so
   presently, sir, afore noon? a man of your head and hair should
   owe more to that reverend ceremony, and not mount the marriage-bed
   like a town-bull, or a mountain-goat; but stay the due season; and
   ascend it then with religion and fear. Those delights are to be
   steeped in the humour and silence of the night; and give the day
   to other open pleasures, and jollities of feasting, of music, of
   revels, of discourse: we'll have all, sir, that may make your
   Hymen high and happy.

   MOR: O, my torment, my torment!

   TRUE: Nay, if you endure the first half hour, sir, so tediously,
   and with this irksomness; what comfort or hope can this fair
   gentlewoman make to herself hereafter, in the consideration of so
   many years as are to come—

   MOR: Of my affliction. Good sir, depart, and let her do it alone.

   TRUE: I have done, sir.

   MOR: That cursed barber.

   TRUE: Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir.

   MOR: I have married his cittern, that's common to all men. Some
   plague above the plague—

   TRUE: All Egypt's ten plagues.

   MOR: Revenge me on him!

   TRUE: 'Tis very well, sir. If you laid on a curse or two more,
   I'll assure you he'll bear them. As, that he may get the pox
   with seeking to cure it, sir; or, that while he is curling another
   man's hair, his own may drop off; or, for burning some male-bawd's
   lock, he may have his brain beat out with the curling-iron.

   MOR: No, let the wretch live wretched. May he get the itch, and his
   shop so lousy, as no man dare come at him, nor he come at no man!

   TRUE: Ay, and if he would swallow all his balls for pills, let not
   them purge him.

   MOR: Let his warming pan be ever cold.

   TRUE: A perpetual frost underneath it, sir.

   MOR: Let him never hope to see fire again.

   TRUE: But in hell, sir.

   MOR: His chairs be always empty, his scissors rust, and his combs
   mould in their cases.

   TRUE: Very dreadful that! And may he lose the invention, sir, of
   carving lanterns in paper.

   MOR: Let there be no bawd carted that year, to employ a bason of
   his: but let him be glad to eat his sponge for bread.

   TRUE: And drink lotium to it, and much good do him.

   MOR: Or, for want of bread—

   TRUE: Eat ear-wax, sir. I'll help you. Or, draw his own teeth,
   and add them to the lute-string.

   MOR: No, beat the old ones to powder, and make bread of them.

   TRUE: Yes, make meal of the mill-stones.

   MOR: May all the botches and burns that he has cured on others
   break out upon him.

   TRUE: And he now forget the cure of them in himself, sir: or, if
   he do remember it, let him have scraped all his linen into lint
   for't, and have not a rag left him to set up with.

   MOR: Let him never set up again, but have the gout in his hands
   for ever! Now, no more, sir.

   TRUE: O, that last was too high set; you might go less with him,
   i'faith, and be revenged enough: as, that he be never able to
   new-paint his pole—

   MOR: Good sir, no more, I forgot myself.

   TRUE: Or, want credit to take up with a comb-maker—

   MOR: No more, sir.

   TRUE: Or, having broken his glass in a former despair, fall now
   into a much greater, of ever getting another—

   MOR: I beseech you, no more.

   TRUE: Or, that he never be trusted with trimming of any but
   chimney-sweepers—

   MOR: Sir—

   TRUE: Or, may he cut a collier's throat with his razor, by
   chance-medley, and yet be hanged for't.

   MOR: I will forgive him, rather than hear any more. I beseech you,
   sir.

   [ENTER DAW, INTRODUCING LADY HAUGHTY, CENTAURE, MAVIS,
   AND TRUSTY.]

   DAW: This way, madam.

   MOR: O, the sea breaks in upon me! another flood! an inundation!
   I shall be overwhelmed with noise. It beats already at my shores.
   I feel an earthquake in my self for't.

   DAW: 'Give you joy, mistress.

   MOR: Has she servants too!

   DAW: I have brought some ladies here to see and know you.
   My lady Haughty—
   [AS HE PRESENTS THEM SEVERALLY, EPI. KISSES THEM.]
   this my lady Centaure—mistress Dol Mavis—mistress Trusty,
   my lady Haughty's woman. Where's your husband? let's see him:
   can he endure no noise? let me come to him.

   MOR: What nomenclator is this!

   TRUE: Sir John Daw, sir, your wife's servant, this.

   MOR: A Daw, and her servant! O, 'tis decreed, 'tis decreed of me,
   an she have such servants.

   TRUE: Nay sir, you must kiss the ladies; you must not go away, now:
   they come toward you to seek you out.

   HAU: I'faith, master Morose, would you steal a marriage thus, in
   the midst of so many friends, and not acquaint us? Well, I'll kiss
   you, notwithstanding the justice of my quarrel: you shall give me
   leave, mistress, to use a becoming familiarity with your husband.

   EPI: Your ladyship does me an honour in it, to let me know he is
   so worthy your favour: as you have done both him and me grace to
   visit so unprepared a pair to entertain you.

   MOR: Compliment! compliment!

   EPI: But I must lay the burden of that upon my servant here.

   HAU: It shall not need, mistress Morose, we will all bear, rather
   than one shall be opprest.

   MOR: I know it: and you will teach her the faculty, if she be to
   learn it.

   [WALKS ASIDE WHILE THE REST TALK APART.]

   HAU: Is this the silent woman?

   CEN: Nay, she has found her tongue since she was married, master
   Truewit says.

   HAU: O, master Truewit! 'save you. What kind of creature is your
   bride here? she speaks, methinks!

   TRUE: Yes, madam, believe it, she is a gentlewoman of very absolute
   behaviour, and of a good race.

   HAU: And Jack Daw told us she could not speak!

   TRUE: So it was carried in plot, madam, to put her upon this old
   fellow, by sir Dauphine, his nephew, and one or two more of us:
   but she is a woman of an excellent assurance, and an extraordinary
   happy wit and tongue. You shall see her make rare sport with Daw
   ere night.

   HAU: And he brought us to laugh at her!

   TRUE: That falls out often, madam, that he that thinks himself
   the master-wit, is the master-fool. I assure your ladyship, ye
   cannot laugh at her.

   HAU: No, we'll have her to the college: An she have wit, she
   shall be one of us, shall she not Centaure? we'll make her a
   collegiate.

   CEN: Yes faith, madam, and mistress Mavis and she will set up a
   side.

   TRUE: Believe it, madam, and mistress Mavis she will sustain her
   part.

   MAV: I'll tell you that, when I have talk'd with her, and tried
   her.

   HAU: Use her very civilly, Mavis.

   MAV: So I will, madam.

   [WHISPERS HER.]

   MOR: Blessed minute! that they would whisper thus ever!

   [ASIDE.]

   TRUE: In the mean time, madam, would but your ladyship help to vex
   him a little: you know his disease, talk to him about the wedding
   ceremonies, or call for your gloves, or—

   HAU: Let me alone. Centaure, help me. Master bridegroom, where are
   you?

   MOR: O, it was too miraculously good to last!

   [ASIDE.]

   HAU: We see no ensigns of a wedding here; no character of a
   bride-ale: where be our scarves and our gloves? I pray you, give
   them us. Let us know your bride's colours, and yours at least.

   CEN: Alas, madam, he has provided none.

   MOR: Had I known your ladyship's painter, I would.

   HAU: He has given it you, Centaure, i'faith. But do you hear,
   master Morose? a jest will not absolve you in this manner. You
   that have suck'd the milk of the court, and from thence have
   been brought up to the very strong meats and wine, of it; been
   a courtier from the biggen to the night-cap, as we may say, and
   you to offend in such a high point of ceremony as this, and let
   your nuptials want all marks of solemnity! How much plate have
   you lost to-day, (if you had but regarded your profit,) what
   gifts, what friends, through your mere rusticity!

   MOR: Madam—

   HAU: Pardon me, sir, I must insinuate your errors to you; no
   gloves? no garters? no scarves? no epithalamium? no masque?

   DAW: Yes, madam, I'll make an epithalamium, I promise my mistress;
   I have begun it already: will you ladyship hear it?

   HAU: Ay, good Jack Daw.

   MOR: Will it please your ladyship command a chamber, and be private
   with your friend? you shall have your choice of rooms to retire
   to after: my whole house is yours. I know it hath been your
   ladyship's errand into the city at other times, however now you
   have been unhappily diverted upon me: but I shall be loth to
   break any honourable custom of your ladyship's. And therefore, good
   madam—

   EPI: Come, you are a rude bridegroom, to entertain ladies of
   honour in this fashion.

   CEN: He is a rude groom indeed.

   TRUE: By that light you deserve to be grafted, and have your horns
   reach from one side of the island, to the other. Do not mistake me,
   sir; I but speak this to give the ladies some heart again, not
   for any malice to you.

   MOR: Is this your bravo, ladies?

   TRUE: As God [shall] help me, if you utter such another word,
   I'll take mistress bride in, and begin to you in a very sad cup;
   do you see? Go to, know your friends, and such as love you.

   [ENTER CLERIMONT, FOLLOWED BY A NUMBER OF MUSICIANS.]

   CLER: By your leave, ladies. Do you want any music? I have brought
   you variety of noises. Play, sirs, all of you.

   [ASIDE TO THE MUSICIANS, WHO STRIKE UP ALL TOGETHER.]

   MOR: O, a plot, a plot, a plot, a plot, upon me! this day I shall
   be their anvil to work on, they will grate me asunder. 'Tis worse
   then the noise of a saw.

   CLER: No, they are hair, rosin, and guts. I can give you the
   receipt.

   TRUE: Peace, boys!

   CLER: Play! I say.

   TRUE: Peace, rascals! You see who's your friend now, sir: take
   courage, put on a martyr's resolution. Mock down all their
   attemptings with patience: 'tis but a day, and I would suffer
   heroically. Should an ass exceed me in fortitude? no. You betray
   your infirmity with your hanging dull ears, and make them insult:
   bear up bravely, and constantly.
   [LA-FOOLE PASSES OVER THE STAGE AS A SEWER, FOLLOWED BY SERVANTS
   CARRYING DISHES, AND MISTRESS OTTER.]
   —Look you here, sir, what honour is done you unexpected, by your
   nephew; a wedding-dinner come, and a knight-sewer before it, for
   the more reputation: and fine mistress Otter, your neighbour, in
   the rump, or tail of it.

   MOR: Is that Gorgon, that Medusa come! hide me, hide me.

   TRUE: I warrant you, sir, she will not transform you. Look upon
   her with a good courage. Pray you entertain her, and conduct your
   guests in. No!—Mistress bride, will you entreat in the ladies?
   your bride-groom is so shame-faced, here.

   EPI: Will it please your ladyship, madam?

   HAU: With the benefit of your company, mistress.

   EPI: Servant, pray you perform your duties.

   DAW: And glad to be commanded, mistress.

   CEN: How like you her wit, Mavis?

   MAV: Very prettily, absolutely well.

   MRS. OTT: 'Tis my place.

   MAV: You shall pardon me, mistress Otter.

   MRS. OTT: Why, I am a collegiate.

   MAV: But not in ordinary.

   MRS. OTT: But I am.

   MAV: We'll dispute that within.

   [EXEUNT LADIES.]

   CLER: Would this had lasted a little longer.

   TRUE: And that they had sent for the heralds.
   [ENTER CAPTAIN OTTER.]
   —Captain Otter! what news?

   OTT: I have brought my bull, bear, and horse, in private, and
   yonder are the trumpeters without, and the drum, gentlemen.

   [THE DRUM AND TRUMPETS SOUND WITHIN.]

   MOR: O, O, O!

   OTT: And we will have a rouse in each of them, anon, for bold
   Britons, i'faith.

   [THEY SOUND AGAIN.]

   MOR: O, O, O!
   [EXIT HASTILY.]

   OMNES: Follow, follow, follow!