He never comes near me more to debase
me.
Bar.
How's this? how's this? good wife, how, has he
wrong'd ye?
Ama.
I was fain to drive him like a sheep before
me,
I blush to think how people fleer'd, and scorn'd
me.
Others have handsome men, that know
behaviour,
Place, and observance: this silly thing knows
nothing,
Cannot tell ten; let every Rascal justle
me,
And still I push'd him on as he had been
coming.
Bar. Ha! did ye push him on? is he so
stupid?
Ama.
When others were attentive to the
Priest,
Good devout Gentleman, then fell he
fast,
Fast, sound asleep: then first began the
Bag-pipes,
The several stops on's nose made a rare
musick,
A rare and loud, and those plaid many an
Anthem.
Put out of that, he fell straight into
dreaming.
Ars.
As cunning, as she is sweet; I like this
carriage.
Bar.
What did he then?
Ama.
Why then he talked in his Sleep too,
Nay, I'le divulge your moral vertues
(sheeps-face)
And talk'd aloud, that every ear was fixt to
him:
Did not I suffer (do you think) in this
time?
Talk of your bawling Law, of
appellations
Of Declarations, and Excommunications:
Warrants, and Executions: and such
Devils
That drove all the Gentlemen out o'th' Church, by
hurryes,
With execrable oaths, they would never come there
again.
Thus am I served and man'd.
Lean.
I pray ye forgive me,
I must confess I am not fit to wait upon
ye:
Alas, I was brought up—
Ama.
To be an Asse,
A Lawyers Asse, to carry Books, and
Buckrams.
Bar.
But what did you at Church?
Lop.
At Church, did you ask her?
Do you hear Gentlemen, do you mark that
question?
Because you are half an Heretick your self,
Sir,
Would ye breed her too? this shall to the
Inquisition,
A pious Gentlewoman reproved for
praying?
I'le see this filed, and you shall hear further,
Sir.
Ars.
Ye have an ill heart.
Lop.
It shall be found out, Gentlemen,
There be those youths will search it.
Die.
You are warm Signiour,
But a Faggot will warm ye better: we are
witnesses.
Lop.
Enough to hang him, do not doubt.
Mil.
Nay certain,
I do believe h'as rather no Religion.
Lop.
That must be known too, because she goes to Church,
Sir?
O monstrum infirme ingens!
Die.
Let him go on, Sir,
His wealth will build a Nunnery, a fair
one,
And this good Lady, when he is hang'd and
rotten,
May there be Abbess.
Bar.
You are cozen'd, honest Gentlemen,
I do not forbid the use but the form, mark
me.
Lop.
Form? what do you make of form?
Bar.
They will undo me,
Swear, as I oft have done, and so betray
me;
I must make fair way, and hereafter,
Wife,
You are welcome home, and henceforth take your
pleasure,
Go when ye shall think fit, I will not hinder
ye,
My eyes are open now, and I see my
errour,
My shame, as great as that, but I must hide
it.
The whole conveyance now I smell, but
Basta,
Another time must serve: you see us friends,
now
Heartily friends, and no more chiding,
Gentlemen,
I have been too foolish, I confess, no more
words,
No more, sweet Wife.
Ama.
You know my easie nature.
Bar.
Go get ye in: you see she has been
angry:
Forbear her sight a while and time will
pacify;
And learn to be more bold.
Lean.
I would I could,
I will do all I am able.
[Exit.
Bar.
Do Leandro,
We will not part, but friends of all
hands.
Lop.
Well said,
Now ye are reasonable, we can look on
ye.
Bar.
Ye have jerkt me: but for all that I forgive
ye,
Forgive ye heartily, and do invite ye
To morrow to a Breakfast, I make but
seldom,
But now we will be merry.
Ars.
Now ye are friendly,
Your doggedness and niggardize flung from
ye.
And now we will come to ye.
Bar.
Give me your hands, all;
You shall be welcome heartily.
Lop.
We will be,
For we'll eat hard.
Bar.
The harder, the more welcome,
And till the morning farewell; I have
business.
[Exit.
Mil.
Farewel good bountiful Bartolus, 'tis a
brave wench,
A suddain witty thief, and worth all
service:
Go we'll all go, and crucifie the
Lawyer.
Die.
I'le clap four tire of teeth into my mouth
more
But I will grind his substance.
Ars.
Well Leandro,
Thou hast had a strange Voyage, but I
hope
Thou rid'st now in safe harbour.
Mil.
Let's go drink, Friends,
And laugh aloud at all our merry
may-games.
Lop.
A match, a match, 'twill whet our stomachs
better.
[Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Violante and
Servant.
Ser.
Madam, he's come. [Chair and stools
out.
Viol.
'Tis well, how did he look,
When he knew from whom you were sent? was he not
startled?
Or confident? or fearful?
Ser.
As appear'd
Like one that knew his fortune at the
worst,
And car'd not what could follow.
Viol.
'Tis the better,
Reach me a Chair: so, bring him in, be
careful
That none disturb us: I will try his
temper,
And if I find him apt for my
employments,
Enter Jamie, Servant.
I'le work him to my ends; if not, I
shall
Find other Engines.
Ser.
There's my Lady.
Viol.
Leave us.
Jam.
You sent for me?
Viol.
I did, and do's the favour,
Your present state considered and my
power,
Deserve no greater Ceremony?
Jam.
Ceremonie?
I use to pay that where I owe a duty,
Not to my Brothers wife: I cannot
fawn,
If you expect it from me, you are
cozen'd,
And so farewel.
Viol.
He bears up still; I like it.
Pray you a word.
Jam.
Yes, I will give you hearing
On equal terms, and sit by you as a
friend,
But not stand as a Sutor: Now your
pleasure?
Viol.
You are very bold.
Jam.
'Tis fit: since you are proud,
I was not made to feed that foolish
humour,
With flattery and observance.
Viol.
Yet, with your favour,
A little form joyn'd with respect to
her,