Isa. Not a whit the more for that: Cousin mine, our sex is not so easily put out of conceit with our own beauties.
Const. Thou hast lost the opinion of thy honesty, and got nothing in recompence: Now that's such an oversight in a lady—
Isa. You are deceived; they think me too virtuous for their purpose; but I have yet another way to try, and you shall help me.
Enter LOVEBY, new habited.
Const. Mr Loveby, welcome, welcome: Where have you been this fortnight?
Lov. Faith, madam, out of town, to see a little thing that's fallen to me upon the death of a grandmother.
Const. You thank death for the windfall, servant: But why are you not in mourning for her?
Lov. Troth, madam, it came upon me so suddenly, I had not time: 'Twas a fortune utterly unexpected by me.
Isa. Why, was your grandmother so young, you could not look for her decease?
Lov. Not for that neither; but I had many other kindred, whom she might have left it to; only she heard I lived here in fashion, and spent my money in the eye of the world.
Const. You forge these things prettily; but I have heard you are as poor as a decimated cavalier, and had not one foot of land in all the world.
Lov. Rivals' tales, rivals' tales, madam.
Const. Where lies your land, sir?
Lov. I'll tell you, madam, it has upon it a very fair manor house; from one side you have in prospect an hanging garden.
Isa. Who was hanged there? not your grandmother, I hope?
Lov. In the midst of it you have a fountain: You have seen that at Hampton-court? it will serve to give you a slight image of it. Beyond the garden you look to a river through a perspective of fruit-trees; and beyond the river you see a mead so flowery!—Well, I shall never be at quiet, till we two make hay there.
Const. But where lies this paradise?
Lov. Pox on't; I am thinking to sell it, it has such a villanous unpleasant name, it would have sounded so harsh in a lady's ear. But for the fountain, madam—
Const. The fountain's a poor excuse, it will not hold water; come, the name, the name.
Lov. Faith, it is come so lately into my hands, that I have forgot the name on't.
Isa. That's much, now, that you should forget the name, and yet could make such an exact description of the place.
Lov. If you would needs know, the name's Bawdy.—Sure this will give a stop to their curiosity. [Aside.
Isa. At least you will tell us in what county it lies, that my cousin may send to enquire about it: come, this shall not serve your turn; tell us any town that's near it.
Lov. 'Twill be somewhat too far to send; it lies in the very north of Scotland.
Isa. In good time, a paradise in the Highlands; is't not so, sir?
Const. It seems you went post, servant: in troth you are a rank rider, to go to the north of Scotland, stay and take possession, and return again, in ten days time.
Isa. I never knew your grandmother was a Scotch woman: Is she not a Tartar too? Pray whistle for her, and let's see her dance; come—whist, grannee!
Const. Fie, fie, servant; what, no invention in you? all this while a-studying for a name of your manor? come, come, where lies it? tell me.
Lov. No, faith, I am wiser than so; I'll discover my seat to no man; so I shall have some damned lawyer keep a prying into my title, to defeat me of it.
Const. How then shall I be satisfied, there is such a thing in nature?
Lov. Tell me what jewel you would wear, and you shall have it: Enquire into my money, there's the trial.
Const. Since you are so flush, sir, you shall give me a locket of diamonds, of three hundred pounds.
Isa. That was too severe; you know he has but two hundred and fifty pounds to bestow. [_To her.
Lov_. Well, you shall have it, madam: But I cannot higgle; I know you'll say it did not cost above two hundred pieces.
Isa. I'll be hanged if he does not present you with a parcel of melted flints set in gold, or Norfolk pebbles.
Lov. Little gentlewoman, you are so keen—Madam, this night I have appointed business, to-morrow I'll wait upon you with it. [Exit LOVEBY.
Isa. By that time he has bought his locket, and paid his landlady, all his money will be gone. But do you mean to prosecute your plot to see him this evening?
Const. Yes, and that very privately; if my father know it, I am undone.
Enter SETSTONE.
Isa. I heard him say, this night he had appointed business.
Set. Why, that was it, madam; according to your order, I put on a disguise, and found him in the Temple-walks: Having drawn him aside, I told him, if he expected happiness, he must meet me in a blind alley, I nam'd to him, on the back side of Mr Trice's house, just at the close of evening; there he should be satisfied from whom he had his supplies of money.
Const. And how did he receive the summons?
Set. Like a bold Hector of Troy; without the least doubt or scruple: But, the jest on't was, he would needs believe that I was the devil.
Const. Sure he was afraid to come then?
Set. Quite contrary; he told me I need not be so shy, to acknowledge myself to him; he knew I was the devil; but he had learnt so much civility, as not to press his friend to a farther discovery than he was pleased. I should see I had to do with a gentleman; and any courtesy I should confer on him, he would not be unthankful; for he hated ingratitude of all things.
Const. 'Twas well carried not to disabuse him: I laugh to think what sport I shall have anon, when I convince him of his lies, and let him know I was the devil, to whom he was beholden for his money: Go, Setstone; and in the same disguise be ready for him. [Exit SETSTONE.
Isa. How dare you trust this fellow?
Const. I must trust some body: Gain has made him mine, and now fear will keep him faithful.
To them, BURR, FAILER, TIMOROUS, TRICE, and NONSUCH.
Fail. Pray, my lord, take no pique at it: 'Tis not given to all men to be confident: Egad, you shall see Sir Timorous will redeem all upon the next occasion.
Non. A raw miching boy.
Isa. And what are you but an old boy of five and fifty? I never knew any thing so humoursome—I warrant you, Sir Timorous; I'll speak for you.
Non. Would'st thou have me be friends with him? for thy sake he shall only add five hundred a-year to her jointure, and I'll be satisfied: Come you hither, sir.
[Here TRICE and NONSUCH and TIMOROUS talk privately; BURR with FAILER apart, CONSTANCE with ISABELLA.
Const. You'll not find your account in this trick to get Failer beaten; 'tis too palpable and open.
Isa. I warrant you 'twill pass upon Burr for a time: So my revenge and your interest will go on together.
Fail. Burr, there's mischief a-brewing, I know it by their whispering, I vow to gad: Look to yourself, their design is on you; for my part, I am a person that am above 'em.
Tim. to Trice. But then you must speak for me, Mr Trice: and you too, my lord.
Non. If you deny't again, I'll beat you; look to't, boy.
Trice. Come on; I'll make the bargain.
Isa. You were ever good in a flesh-market.
Trice. Come, you little harlotry; what satisfaction can you give me for running away before the ruffs came in?
Const. Why, I left you to 'em, that ever invite your own belly to the greatest part of all your feasts.
Trice. I have brought you a knight here, huswife, with a plentiful fortune to furnish out a table; and what would you more? Would you be an angel in heaven?
Isa. Your mind's ever upon your belly.
Trice. No: 'tis sometimes upon yours: But, what say'st thou to sir Timorous, little Constance?
Const. Would you have me married to that king Midas's face?
Trice. Midas me no Midas; he's a wit; he understands eating and drinking well: Poeta coquus, the heathen philosopher could tell you that.
Const. Come on, sir: what's your will with me? [Laughs.
Tim. Why, madam, I could only wish we were a little better acquainted, that we might not laugh at one another so.
Const. If the fool puts forward, I am undone.
Tim. Fool!—do you know me, madam?
Const. You may see I know you, because I call you by your name.
Fail. You must endure these rebukes with patience, Sir Timorous.
Const. What, are you planet struck? Look you, my lord, the gentleman's tongue-tied.
Non. This is past enduring.
Fail. 'Tis nothing, my lord;—courage, Sir Timorous.
Non. I say 'tis past enduring; that's more than ever I told you yet: Do you come to make a fool of my daughter?
Isa. Why lord—
Non. Why lady—[Exit NONSUCH.
Trice. Let's follow the old man, and pacify him.
Isa. Now, cousin,—[Exeunt ISA. TRICE, BURR.
Const. Well, Mr Failer, I did not think you, of all the rest, would have endeavoured a thing so much against my inclination, as this marriage: if you had been acquainted with my heart, I am sure you would not.
Fail. What can the meaning of this be? you would not have me believe you love me; and yet how otherwise to understand you I vow to gad I cannot comprehend.
Const. I did not say I loved you; but if I should take a fancy to your person and humour, I hope it is no crime to tell it you. Women are tied to hard unequal laws: The passion is the same in us, and yet we are debarred the freedom to express it. You make poor Grecian beggars of us ladies; our desires must have no language, but only be fastened to our breasts.
Fail. Come, come; egad I know the whole sex of you: Your love's at best but a kind: of blind-man's-buff, catching at him that's next in your way.
Const. Well, sir, I can take nothing ill from you; when 'tis too late you'll see how unjust you have been to me. I have said too much already.—[Is going.
Fail. Nay stay, sweet madam! I vow to gad my fortune's better than I could imagine.
Const. No, pray let me go, sir; perhaps I was in jest.
Fail. Really, madam, I look upon you as a person of such worth, and all that, that I vow to gad I honour you of all persons in the world; and though I am a person that am inconsiderable in the world, and all that, madam, for a person of your worth and excellency I would—
Const. What would you, sir?
Fail. Sacrifice my life and fortunes, I vow to gad, madam.
Enter ISABELLA, BURR, and TIMOROUS, at a distance from them.
Isa. There's Failer close in talk with my cousin; he's soliciting your suit, I warrant you, Sir Timorous: Do but observe with what passion he courts for you.
Burr. I do not like that kneading of her hand though.
Isa. Come, you are such a jealous coxcomb: I warrant you suspect there's some amour between 'em; there can be nothing in't, it is so open: Pray observe.
Burr. But how come you so officious, madam? you, that ere now had a design upon Sir Timorous for yourself?
Isa. I thought you had a better opinion of my wit, than to think I was in earnest. My cousin may do what she pleases, but he shall never pin himself upon me, assure him.
Const. to Fail. Sir Timorous little knows how dangerous a person he has employed in making love.—[Aloud.
Burr. How's this! Pray, my lady Constance, what's the meaning of that you say to Failer?
Fail. What luck was this, that he should overhear you! Pax on't!
Const. Mr Burr, I owe you not that satisfaction; what you have heard you may interpret as you please.
Tim. The rascal has betrayed me.
Isa. In earnest, sir, I do not like it.
Fail. Dear Mr Burr, be pacified; you are a person I have an honour for; and this change of affairs shall not be the worse for you, egad, sir.
Const. Bear up resolutely, Mr Failer; and maintain my favours, as becomes my servant.
Burr. He maintain 'em! go, you Judas; I'll teach you what 'tis to play fast and loose with a man of war. [Kicks him.
Tim. Lay it on, Burr.
Isa. Spare him not, Burr.
Const. Fear him not, servant.
Fail. Oh, oh! would nobody were on my side! here I am praised, I vow to gad, into all the colours of the rainbow.
Const. But remember 'tis for me.
Burr. As you like this, proceed, sir; but, come not near me to-night, while I'm in wrath.
[Exeunt BURR and TIMOROUS.
Const. Come, sir; how fare you after your sore trial? You bore it with a most heroic patience.
Isa. Brave man at arms, but weak to Balthazar[A]!
[Footnote A: Alluding to the old play of Hieronymo.]
Fail. I hope to gad, madam, you'll consider the merit of my sufferings. I would not have been beaten thus, but to obey that person in the world—
Const. Heaven reward you for't; I never shall.
Fail. How, madam!
Isa. Art thou such an ass, as not to perceive thou art abused? This beating I contrived for you: you know upon what account; and have yet another or two at your service. Yield up the knight in time, 'tis your best course.
Fail. Then does not your ladyship love me, madam?
Const. Yes, yes, I love to see you beaten.
Isa. Well, methinks now you have had a hard bargain on't: You have lost your cully, Sir Timorous, and your friend, Burr, and all to get a poor beating. But I'll see it mended against next time for you.
[Exeunt CONSTANCE and ISABELLA, laughing.
Fail. I am so much amazed, I vow to gad, I do not understand my own condition. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter LOVEBY solus, in the dark, his sword drawn, groping out his way.
Lov. This is the time and place he pointed me, and 'tis certainly the devil I am to meet; for no mortal creature could have that kindness for me, to supply my necessities as he has done, nor could have done it in so strange a manner. He told me he was a scholar, and had been a parson in the fanatic's times: a shrewd suspicion it was the devil; or at least a limb of him. If the devil can send churchmen on his errands, lord have mercy on the laity! Well, let every man speak as he finds, and give the devil his due; I think him a very honest and well-natured fellow; and if I hear any man speak ill of him, except it be a parson, that gets his living by it, I wear a sword at his service. Yet, for all this, I do not much care to see him. He does not mean to hook me in for my soul, does he? If he does, I shall desire to be excused. But what a rogue am I, to suspect a person, that has dealt so much like a gentleman by me! He comes to bring me money, and would do it handsomely, that it might not be perceived. Let it be as 'twill, I'll seem to trust him; and, then, if he have any thing of a gentleman in him, he wills corn to deceive me, as much as I would to cozen him, if I were the devil, and he Jack Loveby.
Enter FAILER at the other end of the stage.
Fail. What will become of me to-night! I am just in the condition of an out-lying deer, that's beaten from his walk for offering to rut. Enter I dare not, for Burr.
Lov. I hear a voice, but nothing do I see. Speak, what thou art?
Fail. There he is, watching for me. I must venture to run by him; and, when I am in, I hope my cousin Trice will defend me. The devil would not lie abroad in such a night.
Lov. I thought it was the devil, before he named himself.
[FAILER goes to run off, and falls into LOVEBY'S arms.
Lov. Honest Satan, well encountered! I am sorry, with all my heart, it is so dark. 'Faith, I should be very glad to see thee at my lodging; pr'ythee, let's not be such strangers to one another for the time to come. And what hast thou got under thy cloak there, little Satan? I warrant thou hast brought me some more money.
Fail. Help, help; thieves! thieves!
[LOVEBY lets him go.
Lov. This is Failer's voice: How the devil was I mistaken! I must get off, ere company comes in.
[Exit Loveby.
Fail. Thieves! thieves!
Enter Trice, Burr, and Timorous, undressed.
All. Where! where!
Fail. One was here just now; and it should be Loveby by his voice, but I have no witness.
Trice. It cannot be; he wants no money.
Burr. Come, sirrah; I'll take pity on you to-night: You shall lie in the truckle-bed.
Trice. Pox o' this noise! it has disturbed me from such a dream of eating!—[Exeunt.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Constance and Isabella.
Const. Twas ill luck to have the meeting broke last night, just as Setstone was coming towards him.
Isa. But, in part of recompence, you'll have the pleasure of putting him on farther straits. O, these little mischiefs are meat and drink to me.
Const. He shall tell me from whence he has his money: I am resolved now to try him to the utmost.
Isa. I would devise something for him to do, which he could not possibly perform.
Const. As I live, yonder he comes, with the jewel in his hand he promised me. Pr'ythee, leave me alone with him.
Isa. Speed the plough! If I can make no sport, I'll hinder none. I'll to my knight, Sir Timorous; shortly you shall hear news from Dametas[A].
[Footnote A: A foolish character in Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, who seems to have become proverbial.]
[Exit ISABELLA.
Enter LOVEBY.
Lov. Look you, madam, here's the jewel; do me the favour to accept it, and suppose a very good compliment delivered with it.
Const. Believe me, a very fair jewel. But why will you be at this needless charge? What acknowledgment do you expect? You know I will not marry you.
Lov. How the devil do I know that? I do not conceive myself, under correction, so inconsiderable a person.
Const. You'll alter your partial opinion, when I tell you, 'tis not a flash of wit fires me, nor is it a gay out-side can seduce me to matrimony.
Lov. I am neither fool, nor deformed, so much as to be despicable. What do I want?
Const. A good estate, that makes every thing handsome: Nothing can look well without it.
Lov. Does this jewel express poverty?
Const. I conjure you by your love to me, tell me one truth not minced by your invention, how came you by this jewel?
Lov. 'Tis well I have a voucher. Pray ask your own jeweller, Setstone, if I did not buy it of him.
Const. How glad you are now, you can tell a truth so near a lie. But where had you the money, that purchased it? Come—without circumstances and preambles—
Lov. Umph—Perhaps, that may be a secret.
Const. Say, it be one; yet he, that loved indeed, could not keep it from his mistress.
Lov. Why should you be thus importunate?
Const. Because I cannot think you love me, if you will not trust that to my knowledge, which you conceal from all the world beside.
Lov. You urge me deeply—
Const. Come, sweet servant, you shall tell me; I am resolved to take no denial. Why do you sigh?
Lov. If I be blasted, it must out.
Const. Either tell me, or resolve to take your leave for ever.
Lov. Then know, I have my means,—I know not how.
Const. This is a fine secret.
Lov. Why, then, if you will needs know, 'tis from the devil; I have money from him, what, and when I please.
Const. Have you sealed a covenant, and given away your soul for money?
Lov. No such thing intended on my part.
Const. How then?
Lov. I know not yet what conditions he'll propose. I should have spoke with him last night, but that a cross chance hindered it.
Const. Well, my opinion is, some great lady, that is in love with you, supplies you still; and you tell me an incredible tale of the devil, merely to shadow your infidelity.
Lov. Devise some means to try me.
Const. I take you at your word. You shall swear freely to bestow on me whatever you shall gain this unknown way; and, for a proof, because you tell me you can have money, what, and when you please, bring me a hundred pounds ere night.—If I do marry him for a wit, I'll see what he can do; he shall have none from me. [Aside.
Lov. You overjoy me, madam; you shall have it, an 'twere twice as much.
Const. How's this?
Lov. The devil a cross that I have, or know where to get; but I must promise well, to save my credit.—Now, devil, if thou dost forsake me!
[Aside.
Const. I mistrust you; and, therefore, if you fail, I'll have your hand to show against you; here's ink and paper. [LOVEBY writes.
Enter BURR, and TIMOROUS.
Burr. What makes Loveby yonder? He's writing somewhat.
Tim. I'll go see. [Looks over him.
Lov. Have you no more manners than to overlook a man when he's a writing?—Oh! is't you, Sir Timorous? You may stand still; now I think on't, you cannot read written hand.
Burr. You are very familiar with Sir Timorous.
Lov. So am I with his companions, sir.
Burr. Then there's hopes you and I may be better acquainted. I am one of his companions.
Lov. By what title? as you are an ass, sir?
Const. No more, Loveby.
Lov. I need not, madam. Alas! this fellow is only the solicitor of a quarrel, 'till he has brought it to an head; and will leave the fighting part to the courteous pledger. Do not I know these fellows? You shall as soon persuade a mastiff to fasten on a lion, as one of those to engage with a courage above their own: They know well enough whom they can beat, and who can beat them.
_Enter _FAILER at a distance.
Fail. Yonder they are: Now, would I compound for a reasonable sum, that I were friends with Burr. If I am not, I shall lose Sir Timorous.
Const. O, servant, have I spied you? let me run into your arms.
Fail. I renounce my lady Constance: I vow to gad, I renounce her.
Tim. To your task, Burr.
Enter NONSUCH and ISABELLA.
Const. Hold, gentlemen! no sign of quarrel.
Non. O, friends! I think I shall go mad with grief: I have lost more money.
Lov. Would I had it: that's all the harm I wish myself. Your servant, madam; I go about the business.
Exit LOVEBY.
Non. What! does he take no pity on me?
Const. Pr'ythee, moan him, Isabella.
Isa. Alas, alas, poor uncle! could they find in their hearts to rob him!
Non. Five hundred pounds, out of poor six thousand pounds a-year! I, and mine, are undone for ever.
Fail. Your own house, you think, is clear, my lord?
Const. I dare answer for all there, as much as for myself.
Burr. Oh, that he would but think that Loveby had it!
Fail. If you'll be friends with me, I'll try what I can persuade him to.
Burr. Here's my hand, I will, dear heart.
Fail. Your own house being clear, my lord, I am apt to suspect this Loveby for such a person. Did you mark how abruptly he went out?
Non. He did indeed, Mr Failer. But why should I suspect him? his carriage is fair, and his means great; he could never live after this rate, if it were not.
Fail. This still renders him the more suspicious: He has no land, to my knowledge.
Burr. Well said, mischief. [Aside.
Const. My father's credulous, and this rogue has found the blind side of him; would Loveby heard him! [To ISABELLA.
Fail. He has no means, and he loses at play; so that, for my part, I protest to gad, I am resolved he picks locks for his living.
Burr. Nay, to my knowledge, he picks locks.
Tim. And to mine.
Fail. No longer ago than last night he met me in the dark, and offered to dive into my pockets.
Non. That's a main argument for suspicion.
Fail. I remember once, when the keys of the Exchequer were lost in the Rump-time, he was sent for upon an extremity, and, egad, he opens me all the locks with the blade-bone of a breast of mutton.
Non. Who, this Loveby?
Fail. This very Loveby. Another time, when we had sate up very late at ombre in the country, and were hungry towards morning, he plucks me out (I vow to gad I tell you no lie) four ten-penny nails from the dairy lock with his teeth, fetches me out a mess of milk, and knocks me 'em in again with his head, upon reputation.
Isa. Thou boy!
Non. What shall I do in this case? My comfort is, my gold's all marked.
Const. Will you suspect a gentleman of Loveby's worth, upon the bare report of such a rascal as this Failer?
Non. Hold thy tongue, I charge thee; upon my blessing hold thy tongue. I'll have him apprehended before he sleeps; come along with me, Mr Failer.
Fail. Burr, look well to Sir Timorous; I'll be with you instantly.
Const. I'll watch you by your favour. [Aside. [Exeunt NONSUCH and FAILER, CONSTANCE following them.
Isa. A word, Sir Timorous.
Burr. [Gets behind.] She shall have a course at the knight, and come up to him, but when she is just ready to pinch, he shall give such a loose from her, shall break her heart.
Isa. Burr there still, and watching us? There's certainly some plot in this, but I'll turn it to my own advantage. [Aside.
_Tim. Did you mark Burr's retirement, madam?
Isa Ay; his guilt, it seems, makes him shun your company.
Tim. In what can he be guilty?
Isa. You must needs know it; he courts your mistress.
Tim. Is he, too, in love with my lady Constance?
Isa. No, no: but, which is worse, he courts me.
Tim. Why, what have I to do with you? You know I care not this for you.
Isa. Perhaps so; but he thought you did: and good reason for it.
Tim. What reason, madam?
Isa. The most convincing in the world: He knew my cousin Constance never loved you: He has heard her say, you were as invincibly ignorant as a town-fop judging a new play: as shame-faced as a great overgrown school-boy: in fine, good for nothing but to be wormed out of your estate, and sacrificed to the god of laughter.
Tim. Was your cousin so barbarous to say this?
Isa. In his hearing.
Tim. And would he let me proceed in my suit to her?
Isa. For that I must excuse him; he never thought you could love one of my cousin's humour; but took your court to her, only as a blind to your affection for me; and, being possessed with that opinion, he thought himself as worthy as you to marry me.
Tim. He is not half so worthy; and so I'll tell him, in a fair way.
Burr. [To a Boy entering.] Sirrah, boy, deliver this note to madam Isabella; but be not known I am so near.
Boy. I warrant you, sir.
Burr. Now, Fortune, all I desire of thee is, that Sir Timorous may see it; if he once be brought to believe there is a kindness between her and me, it will ruin all her projects.
Isa. [To the Boy.] From whom?
Boy. From Mr Burr, madam.
Isa. [Reads.] These for Madam Isabella. Dear rogue, Sir Timorous knows nothing of our kindness, nor shall for me; seem still to have designs upon him; it will hide thy affection the better to thy servant, BURR.
Isa. Alas, poor woodcock, dost thou go a-birding? Thou hast e'en set a springe to catch thy own neck. Look you here, Sir Timorous; here's something to confirm what I have told you. [Gives him the letter.
Tim. D, e, a, r, dear; r, o, g, u, e, rogue. Pray, madam, read it; this written hand is such a damned pedantic thing, I could never away with it.
Isa. He would fain have robbed you of me: Lord, Lord! to see the malice of a man.
Tim. She has persuaded me so damnably, that I begin to think she's my mistress indeed.
Isa. Your mistress? why, I hope you are not to doubt that, at this time of day. I was your mistress from the first day you ever saw me.
Tim. Nay, like enough you were so; but I vow to gad now, I was wholly ignorant of my own affection.
Isa. And this rogue pretends he has an interest in me, merely to defeat you: Look you, look you, where he stands in ambush, like a Jesuit behind a Quaker, to see how his design will take.
Tim. I see the rogue: Now could I find in my heart to marry you in spite to him; what think you on't, in a fair way?
Isa. I have brought him about as I could wish; and now I'll make my own conditions. [Aside.] Sir Timorous, I wish you well; but he I marry must promise me to live at London: I cannot abide to be in the country, like a wild beast in the wilderness, with no Christian soul about me.
Tim. Why, I'll bear you company.
Isa. I cannot endure your early hunting-matches there; to have my sleep disturbed by break of day, with heigh, Jowler, Jowler! there Venus, ah Beauty! and then a serenade of deep-mouthed curs, to answer the salutation of the huntsman, as if hell were broke loose about me: and all this to meet a pack of gentlemen savages, to ride all day, like mad-men, for the immortal fame of being first in at the hare's death: to come upon the spur, after a trial at four in the afternoon, to destruction of cold meat and cheese, with your lewd company in boots; fall a-drinking till supper time, be carried to bed, tossed out of your cellar, and be good for nothing all the night after.
Tim. Well, madam, what is it you would be at? you shall find me reasonable to all your propositions.
Isa. I have but one condition more to add; for I will be as reasonable as you; and that is a very poor request—to have all the money in my disposing.
Tim. How, all the money?
Isa. Ay, for I am sure I can huswife it better for your honour; not but that I shall be willing to encourage you with pocket-money, or so, sometimes.
Tim. This is somewhat hard.
Isa. Nay, if a woman cannot do that, I shall think you have an ill opinion of my virtue: Not trust your own flesh and blood, Sir Timorous?
Tim. Well, is there any thing more behind?
Isa. Nothing more, only the choice of my own company, my own hours, and my own actions: These trifles granted me, in all things of moment, I am your most obedient wife and servant, Isabella.
Tim. Is't a match, then?
Isa. For once I am content it shall; but 'tis to redeem you from those rascals, Burr and Failer—that way, Sir Timorous, for fear of spies; I'll meet you at the garden door.—[Exit TIMOROUS.] I have led all women the way, if they dare but follow me. And now march off, if I can scape but spying, With my drums beating, and my colours flying.
[Exit.
Burr. So, their wooing's at an end; thanks to my wit.
Enter FAILER.
Fail. O Burr! whither is it Sir Timorous and Madam Isabella are gone together?
Burr. Adore my wit, boy; they are parted, never to meet again.
Fail. I saw them meet just now at the garden-door: So ho, ho, ho, who's within there! Help here quickly, quickly.
Enter NONSUCH and two Servants.
Non. What's the matter?
Fail. Your niece Isabella has stolen away Sir Timorous.
Non. Which way took they?
Fail. Follow me, I'll show you.
Non. Break your necks after him, you idle varlets.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter LOVEBY. LOVEBY'S collar unbuttoned, band carelessly on, hat on the table, as new risen from sleep.
Lov. Boy! how long have I slept, boy?
Enter Boy.
Boy. Two hours and a half, sir.
Lov. What's a-clock, sirrah?
Boy. Near four, sir.
Lov. Why, there's it: I have promised my lady Constance an hundred pounds ere night; I had four hours to perform it in, when I engaged to do it; and I have slept out more than two of them. All my hope to get this money lies within the compass of that hat there. Before I lay down, I made bold a little to prick my finger, and write a note, in the blood of it, to this same friend of mine in t'other world, that uses to supply me: the devil has now had above two hours to perform it in; all which time I have slept, to give him the better opportunity: time enough for a gentleman of his agility to fetch it from the East Indies, out of one of his temples where they worship him; or, if he were lazy, and not minded to go so far, 'twere but stepping over sea, and borrowing so much money out of his own bank at Amsterdam: hang it, what's an hundred pounds between him and me? Now does my heart go pit-a-pat, for fear I should not find the money there: I would fain lift it up to see, and yet I am so afraid of missing: Yet a plague, why should I fear he'll fail me; the name of a friend's a sacred thing; sure he'll consider that. Methinks, this hat looks as if it should have something under it: If one could see the yellow boys peeping underneath the brims now: Ha! [Looks under round about.] In my conscience I think I do. Stand out o'the way, sirrah, and be ready to gather up the pieces, that will flush out of the hat as I take it up.
Boy. What, is my master mad, trow?
[LOVEBY snatches up the hat, looks in it hastily, and sees nothing but the paper.
Low. Now, the devil take the devil! A plague! was ever man served so as I am! [Throws his hat upon the ground.] To break the bands of amity for one hundred pieces! Well, it shall be more out of thy way than thou imaginest, devil: I'll turn parson, and be at open defiance with thee: I'll lay the wickedness of all people upon thee, though thou art never so innocent; I'll convert thy bawds and whores; I'll Hector thy gamesters, that they shall not dare to swear, curse, or bubble; nay, I'll set thee out so, that thy very usurers and aldermen shall fear to have to do with thee.
[A noise within of ISABELLA and FRANCES.
Enter FRANCES, thrusting back ISABELLA and TIMOROUS.
Franc. How now, what's the matter?
Isa. Nay, sweet mistress, be not so hard-hearted; all I desire of you is but harbour for a minute: you cannot, in humanity, deny that small succour to a gentlewoman.
Franc. A gentlewoman! I thought so; my house, affords no harbour for gentlewomen: you are a company of proud harlotries: I'll teach you to take place of tradesmen's wives, with a wannion to you.
Lov. How's this! Madam Isabella!
Isa. Mr Loveby! how happy am I to meet with you in my distress!
Lov. What's the matter, madam?
Isa. I'll tell you, if this gentlewoman will give me leave.
Franc. No, gentlewoman, I will not give you leave; they are such as we maintain your pride, as they say. [ISABELLA and LOVEBY whisper.] Our husbands trust you, and you must go before their wives. I am sure my good-man never goes to any of your lodgings, but he comes home the worse for it, as they say.
Lov. Is that all? pr'ythee, good landlady, for my sake entertain my friends.
Franc. If the gentleman's worship had come alone, it may be I might have entertained him; but for your minion!
Enter NONSUCH, FAILER, BURR, and Officers. Cry within, Here, here.
Fail. My lord, arrest Sir Timorous upon a promise of marriage to your daughter, and we'll witness it.
Tim. Why, what a strange thing of you's this, madam Isabella, to bring a man into trouble thus!
Fail. You are not yet married to her?
Tim. Not that I remember.
Isa. Well, Failer, I shall find a time to reward your diligence.
Lov. If the knight would have owned his action, I should have taught some of you more manners, than to come with officers into my lodging.
Franc. I'm glad with all my heart this minx is prevented of her design: the gentleman had got a great catch of her, as they say. His old father in the country would have given him but little thanks for it, to see him bring down a fine-bred woman, with a lute, and a dressing-box, and a handful of money to her portion.
Isa. Good Mistress Whatdeelack! I know your quarrel to the ladies; do they take up the gallants from the tradesmen's wives? Lord, what a grievous thing it is, for a she citizen to be forced to have children by her own husband!
Franc. Come, come, you're a slanderful huswife, and I squorn your harlotry tricks, that I do, so I do.
Isa. Steeple-hat your husband never gets a good look when he comes home, except he brings a gentleman to dinner; who, if he casts an amorous eye towards you, then, "Trust him, good husband, sweet husband, trust him for my sake: Verily the gentleman's an honest man, I read it in his countenance: and if you should not be at home to receive the money, I know he will pay the debt to me." Is't not so, mistress?
Enter BIBBER in slippers, with a skein of silk about his neck.
Franc. Will you see me wronged thus, under my own roof, as they say, William?
Isa. Nay, 'tis very true, mistress: you let the men, with old compliments, take up new clothes; I do not mean your wife's clothes, Mr Merchant-Tailor.
Bib. Good, i'faith! a notable smart gentlewoman!
Isa. Look to your wife, sir, or, in time, she may undo your trade; for she'll get all your men-customers to herself.
Bib. An' I should be hanged, I can forbear no longer. [He plucks out his measure, and runs to ISABELLA, to take measure of her.
Isa. How now! what means Prince Pericles by this?
Bib. [On his knees.] I must beg your ladyship e'en to have the honour to trust you but for your gown, for the sake of that last jest, flowered sattin, wrought tabby, silver upon any grounds; I shall run mad if I may not trust your ladyship.
Franc. I think you are mad already, as they say, William: You shall not trust her—
[Plucks him back.
Bib. Let me alone, Frances: I am a lion when I am angered.
Isa. Pray do not pull your lion by the tail so, mistress—In these clothes, that he now takes measure of me for, will I marry Sir Timorous; mark that, and tremble, Failer.
Fail. Never threaten me, madam; you're a person I despise.
Isa. I vow to gad, I'll be even with you, sir.
[Exit.
Non. [To the Bailiff's.]—And when you have arrested him, be sure you search him for my gold.
Bailiffs. [To LOVEBY.] We arrest you, sir, at my Lord Nonsuch's suit.
Lov. Me, you rascals!
Non. Search him for my gold; you know the marks on't.
Lov. If they can find any marked or unmarked gold about me, they'll find more than I can. You expect I should resist now; no, no; I'll hamper you for this.
Bail. There's nothing to be found about him.
Fail. 'Tis no matter, to prison with him; there all his debts will come upon him.
Lov. What, hurried to durance, like a stinkard!
Job. Now, as I live, a pleasant gentleman; I could find in my heart to bail him; but I'll overcome myself, and steal away. [Is going.
Bail. Come, sir, we must provide you of another lodging; but I believe you'll scarce like it.
Lov. If I do not, I ask no favour; pray turn me out of doors.
Bib. Turn him out of doors! What a jest was there? Now, an' I should be hanged, I cannot forbear bailing him: Stay, officers, I bail him body and soul for that jest.
Fail. Let us begone in time, Burr.
[Exeunt BURR, FAILER, and TIMOROUS.
Franc. You shall not bail him.
Bib. I know I am a rogue to do it; but his wit has prevailed upon me, and a man must not go against his conscience. There, officers.
Lov. to Non. Old man, if it were not for thy daughter—
Non. Well, well; take your course, sir.
[Exeunt NONSUCH and Bailiffs.
Lov. Come, Will, I'll thank thee at the tavern. Frances, remember this the next time you come up to make my bed.
Franc. Do your worst, I fear you not, sir. This is twice to day, William; to trust a gentlewoman, and bail a ragamuffin: I am sure he called you cuckold but yesterday, and said he would make you one.
Lov. Look you, Frances, I am a man of honour, and, if I said it, I'll not break my word with you.
Bib. There he was with you again, Frances: An excellent good jest, i'faith la.
Franc. I'll not endure it, that I won't, so I won't: I'll go to the justice's worship, and fetch a warrant for him.
Lov. But, landlady, the word cuckold will bear no action in the law, except you could prove your husband prejudiced by it. Have any of his customers forsook him for't? Or any mercer refused to trust him the less, for my calling him so?
Franc. Nay, I know not for the mercers; perhaps the citizens may take it for no slander among one another, as they say: but for the gentlemen—
Lov. Will, have they forsaken thee upon it?
Bib. No, I assure you, sir.
Lov. No, I warrant 'em: A cuckold has the signification of an honest well-meaning citizen; one, that is not given to jealousies or suspicions; a just person to his wife, &c.; one that, to speak the worst of him, does but to her, what he would be content should be done to her by other men.
Franc. But that another man should be the father of his children, as they say; I don't think that a civil thing, husband.
Lov. Not civil, landlady! why all things are civil, that are made so by custom.
Bib. Why may not he get as fine children as I, or any man?
Franc. But if those children, that are none of yours, should call you father, William!
Bib. If they call me father, and are none of mine, I am the more beholden to 'em.
Franc. Nay, if that be your humour, husband, I am glad I know it, that I may please you the better another time, as they say. [Exit FRANCES.
Bib. Nay, but Frances, Frances! 'tis such another woman. [Exit BIBBER.
Lov. 'Tis such another man:—My coat and sword, boy, I must go to Justice Trice's; bring the women; and come after me. [Exit LOVEBY.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
A Table set with Cards upon it.
TRICE walking: Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, some company is without upon justice-business.
Trice. Saucy rascal, to disturb my meditations. [Exit Servant.—Ay, it shall be he: Jack Loveby, what think'st thou of a game at piquet, we two, hand to fist? you and I will play one single game for ten pieces: 'Tis deep stake, Jack, but 'tis all one between us two: You shall deal, Jack:—Who I, Mr Justice! that's a good one; you must give me use for your hand then; that's six i'the hundred.—Come, lift, lift;—mine's a ten; Mr Justice:—mine's a king; oh ho, Jack, you deal. I have the advantage of this, i'faith, if I can keep it. [He deals twelve a piece, two by two, and looks on his own cards.] I take seven, and look on this—Now for you, Jack Loveby.
Enter LOVEBY behind.
Lov. How's this? Am I the man he fights with?
Trice. I'll do you right, Jack; as I am an honest man, you must discard this; there's no other way: If you were my own brother, I could do no better for you.—Zounds, the rogue has a quint-major, and three aces younger hand.—[Looks on the other cards.] Stay; what am I for the point? But bare forty, and he fifty-one: Fifteen, and five for the point, twenty, and three by aces, twenty-three; well, I am to play first: one, twenty-three; two, twenty-three; three, twenty-three; four, twenty-three;—Pox on't, now I must play into his hand: five:—now you take it, Jack;—five, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, and the cards forty.
Lov. Hitherto it goes well on my side.—
Trice. Now I deal: How many do you take, Jack? All. Then I am gone: What a rise is here! Fourteen by aces, and a sixieme-major; I am gone, without looking into my cards.—[Takes up an ace and bites it.] Ay, I thought so: If ever man play'd with such cursed fortune, I'll be hanged, and all for want of this damned ace—there's your ten pieces, with a pox to you, for a rooking beggarly rascal as you are.
LOVEBY enters.
Lov. What occasion have I given you for these words, sir? Rook and rascal! I am no more rascal than yourself, sir.
Trice. How's this! how's this!
Lov. And though for this time I put up, because I am a winner— [Snatches the gold.
Trice. What a devil do'st thou put up? Not my gold, I hope, Jack?
Lov. By your favour, but I do; and 'twas won fairly: a sixieme, and fourteen by aces, by your own confession,—What a pox, we don't make childrens' play, I hope?
Trice. Well, remember this, Jack; from this hour I forswear playing with you when I am alone; what, will you bate me nothing on't?
Lov. Not a farthing, Justice; I'll be judged by you; if I had lost, you would have taken every piece on't: What I win, I win—and there's an end.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, these people stay without, and will not be answered.
Trice. Well, what's their business?
Serv. Nay, no great matter; only a fellow for getting a wench with child.
Trice. No great matter, say'st thou? 'Faith, but it is. Is he a poor fellow, or a gentleman?
Serv. A very poor fellow, sir.
Trice. Hang him, rogue; make his mittimus immediately; must such as he presume to get children?
Lov. Well considered: A poor lousy rascal, to intrench upon the game of gentlemen! He might have passed his time at nine-pins, or shovel-board; that had been fit sport for such as he: Justice, have no mercy on him.
Trice. No, by the sword of justice will I not.
Lov. Swear'st thou, ungracious boy[A]? That's too much, on the other hand, for a gentleman. I swear not, I drink not, I curse not, I cheat not; they are unnecessary vices: I save so much out of those sins, and take it out in that one necessary vice of wenching.
[Footnote A: Henry IV. Part 1. Act ii. Scene 4.]
Enter LOVEBY'S Boy.
Boy. Sir, the parties are without, according to your order.
Lov. 'Tis well; bring 'em in, boy.
Enter Lady Du LAKE, and two or three Whores.
Justice, I recommend this ancient gentlewoman, with these virtuous ladies, to thy patronage; for her part, she is a person of exemplary life and behaviour; of singular conduct to break through, and patience to bear the assaults of fortune: A general benefactress of mankind, and, in fine, a promoter of that great work of nature, love.
Trice. Or, as the vulgar translation hath it, a very sufficient and singular good bawd: Is't not so, boy?
Lov. Ay, boy: Now for such a pettifogging fellow as thy clerk to persecute this lady; pr'ythee think on't: Tis a grievance of the free-born subject.
L. Du Lake. To see the ingratitude of this generation! That I, that have spent my youth; set at nought my fortune; and, what is more dear to me, my honour, in the service of gentlemen; should now, in my old age, be left to want and beggary, as if I were the vilest and most unworthy creature upon God's earth! [Crying.
Lov. Nay, good mother, do not take it so bitterly.
L. Du Lake. I confess, the unkindness of it troubles me.
Lov. Thou shalt not want, so long as I live.—Look, here's five pieces of cordial gold, to comfort thy heart with: I won it, e'en now, off Mr Justice; and I dare say he thinks it well bestowed.
Trice. My money's gone to very pious uses.
L. Du Lake. [Laying her hand on LOVEBY'S head.] Son Loveby, I knew thy father well; and thy grandfather before him. Fathers they were both to me; and I could weep for joy to see how thou tak'st after them. [Weeping again.] I wish it lay in my power too to gratify this worthy Justice in my vocation.
Trice. 'Faith, I doubt I am past that noble sin.
Lov. Pr'ythee, good magistrate, drink to her, and wipe sorrow from her eyes.
Trice. Right reverend, my service to you in canary. [She drinks after him, and stays at half a glass.
L. Du Lake. 'Tis a great way to the bottom; but heaven is all-sufficient to give me strength for it. [Drinks it up.] Why, God's blessing on your heart, son Trice! I hope 'tis no offence to call you son? hem!—hem!—Son Loveby, I think my son Trice and I are much of the same years: let me see, son, if nature be utterly extinct in you: Are you ticklish, son Trice? [Tickles him.
Trice. Are you ticklish, Mother Du Lake?
[Tickles her sides. She falls off her chair; he falls off his to her; they roll one over the other.
Lov. I would have all London now show me such another sight of kindness in old age. [They help each other up.] Come, a dance, a dance; call for your clerk, Justice; he shall make one, in sign of amity. Strike up, fidlers!
[They dance a round dance, and sing the tune.
Enter ISABELLA and CONSTANCE.
Isa. Are you at that sport, i'faith? Have among you, blind harpers. [She falls into the dance.
[At the dance's ending, LOVEBY sees CONSTANCE.
Trice. Is she come? A pox of all honest women at such a time!
Lov. If she knows who these are, by this light, I am undone.
Const. Oh, servant! I come to mind you of your promise. Come, produce my hundred pounds; the time's out I set you.
Lov. Not till dark night, upon my reputation! I have not yet spoke with the gentleman in the black pantaloons; you know he seldom walks abroad by day-light. Dear madam, let me wait on you to your coach; and, if I bring it not within this hour, discard me utterly.
Const. You must give me leave to salute the company. What are they?
Lov. Persons of quality of my acquaintance; but I'll make your excuse to 'em.
Const. Nay, if they are persons of quality, I shall be rude to part from 'em so abruptly.
Lov. Why so?—the devil owed me a shame; and now he has paid me. I must present 'em, whate'er come on't. [Aside.]—This, madam, is my Lady Du Lake—the Lady Springwell—the Lady Hoyden.
[She and ISABELLA salute them.
Isa. What a whiff was there came from my Lady Hoyden; and what a garlic breath my Lady Springwell had!
Trice. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Lov. Do not betray me, Justice; if you do—[Aside.
Isa. Oh, are you thereabouts, sir? then I smell a rat, i'faith; but I'll say nothing. [Aside.
Const. Ladies, I am an humble servant to you all; and account it my happiness to have met with so good company at my cousin Trice's.
Trice. Ha, ha, ha!
L. Du Lake. Are these two ladies of your acquaintance, son Loveby?
Lov. Son, quoth a'! a pox of our relation! [Aside.
L. Du Lake. I shall be glad to be better known to your ladyships.
Const. You too much honour your servants, madam.
Isa. How Loveby fidges up and down! In what pain he is! well, if these be not they, they call whores, I'll be hanged, though I never saw one before. [Aside.
Lov. Will your ladyship please to go, madam?
Const. I must beg the favour of these ladies first, that I may know their lodgings, and wait on them.
L. Du. Lake. It will be our duty to pay our respects first to your ladyship.
Const. I beg your ladyship's pardon, madam—
L. Du Lake. Your ladyship shall excuse us, madam—
Isa. Trice. Ha, ha, ha!
Low. Ah, devil grin you! [Aside.
Trice. I must go out, and laugh my belly-full.
[Exit TRICE.
Const. But in earnest, madam, I must have no denial; I beseech your ladyship instruct me, where I may tender my devoirs.
L. Du Lake. Since your ladyship commands me, madam, I dare disobey no longer. My lodgings are in St Lucknor's Lane, at the Cat and Fiddle.
Const. Whereabouts is that lane, servant?
Lov. Faith, madam, I know not that part o'the town.—Lord, how I sweat for fear! [Aside.
Const. And yours, madam, where, I beseech your ladyship?
2 Whore. In Dog and Bitch yard, an't please your ladyship.
3 Whore. And mine in Sodom, so like your ladyship.
Const. How, Loveby! I did not think you would have used me thus?
Lov. I beseech your ladyship, but hear my justification as I lead you.
Const. By no means, sir; that were such a rudeness to leave persons of quality, to wait upon me: Unhand me, sir.
Isa. Ha, ha, ha!—[Exeunt CONST. ISA.
Lov. I am ruined! for ever ruined. Plague, had you no places in the town to name, but Sodom, and Lucknor's Lane, for lodgings!
L. Du Lake. If any prejudice arise from it, upon my honour, son, 'twas by mistake, and not intended you: I thought she desired to have been admitted of the quality.
Lov. I was curst, when I had first to do with you.
[Kicks them.
L. Du Lake. Well, I thank heaven, that has indued me with such patience.
[Exeunt all but LOVEBY and his Boy.
Lov. I have made a fair hand on't to-day;—both lost my mistress, and hear no news from my friend below: The world frowns upon me, and the devil and my mistress have forsaken me: My godfathers and godmothers have promised well for me: Instead of renouncing them, they have renounced me.