First Off. Come away, this way, this way.
Phœ. Who be those? stand close a little.
[As they retire, Phœnix happens to jar the ring of the Jeweller’s door; the Maid enters from the house and catches hold of him.
Maid. O, you’re come as well as e’er you came in your life! my master’s new gone to bed. Give me your knightly hand: I must lead you into the blind parlour; my mistress will be down to you presently.
First Off. I tell you our safest course will be to arrest him when he comes out a’ th’ tavern, for then he will be half drunk, and will not stand upon his weapon.
Second Off. Our safest course indeed, for he will draw.
First Off. That he will, though he put it up again, which is more of his courtesy than of our deserving.
SCENE II.
Maid. Here, sir: now you are there, sir, she’ll come down to you instantly. I must not stay with you; my mistress would be jealous: you must do nothing to me; my mistress would find it quickly. [Exit.
Phœ. ’S foot, whither am I led? brought in by th’ hand? I hope it can be no harm to stay for a woman, though indeed they were never more dangerous: I have ventured hitherto and safe, and I must venture to stay now. This should be a fair room, but I see it not: the blind parlour calls she it?
Jew. Wife. Where art thou, O my knight?
Phœ. Your knight? I am the duke’s knight.
Jew. Wife. I say you’re my knight, for I’m sure I paid for you.
Phœ. Paid for you?—hum.—’S foot, a light!
Jew. Wife. Now out upon the marmoset![903] Hast thou served me so long, and offer to bring in a candle?
Phœ. Fair room, villanous face, and worse woman! I ha’ learnt something by a glimpse a’ th’ candle.
Jew. Wife. How happened it you came so soon? I looked not for you these two hours; yet, as the sweet chance is, you came as well as a thing could come, for my husband’s newly brought a-bed.
Phœ. And what has Jove sent him?
Jew. Wife. He ne’er sent him any thing since I knew him: he’s a man of a bad nature to his wife; none but his maids can thrive under him.
Phœ. Out upon him!
Jew. Wife. Ay, judge whether I have a cause to be a courtesan or no? to do as I do? An elderly fellow as he is, if he were married to a young virgin, he were able to break her heart, though he could break nothing else. Here, here; there’s just a hundred and fifty [giving money]; but I stole ’em so hardly from him, ’twould e’en have grieved you to have seen it.
Phœ. So ’twould, i’faith.
Jew. Wife. Therefore, prithee, my sweet Pleasure, do not keep company so much. How do you think I am able to maintain you? Though I be a jeweller’s wife, jewels are like women, they rise and fall; we must be content to lose sometimes, to gain often; but you’re content always to lose, and never to gain. What need you ride with a footman before you?
Phœ. O, that’s the grace!
Jew. Wife. The grace? ’tis sufficient grace that you’ve a horse to ride upon. You should think thus with yourself every time you go to bed,—if my head were laid, what would become of that horse? he would run a bad race then, as well as his master.
Phœ. Nay, and[904] you give me money to chide me——
Jew. Wife. No, if it were as much more, I would think it foul scorn to chide you. I advise you to be thrifty, to take the time now, while you have it: you shall seldom get such another fool as I am, I warrant you. Why, there’s Metreza[905] Auriola keeps her love with half the cost that I am at: her friend can go a’ foot like a good husband, walk in worsted stockings, and inquire for the sixpenny ordinary.[906]
Phœ. Pox on’t, and would you have me so base?
Jew. Wife. No, I would not have you so base neither: but now and then, when you keep your chamber, you might let your footman out for eighteenpence a-day; a great relief at year’s end, I can tell you.
Phœ. I’faith, what is’t?
Jew. Wife. You made me believe at first the prince had you in great estimation, and would not offer to travel without you, nay, that he could not travel without your direction and intelligence.
Phœ. I’m sorry I said so, i’faith; but sure I was overflown[907] when I spoke it, I could ne’er ha’ said it else.
Jew. Wife. Nay more; you swore to me that you were the first that taught him to ride a great horse, and tread[908] the ring with agility.
Phœ. By my troth, I must needs confess I swore a great lie in that, and I was a villain to do it, for I could ne’er ride great horse in my life.
Jew. Wife. Why, lo, who would love you now but a citizen’s wife? so inconstant, so forsworn! You say women are false creatures; but, take away men, and they’d be honester than you. Nay, last of all, which offends me most of all, you told me you could countenance me at court; and you know we esteem a friend there more worth than a husband here.
Phœ. What I spake of that, lady, I’ll maintain.
Jew. Wife. You maintain? you seen at court?
Phœ. Why, by this diamond——
Jew. Wife. O, take heed! you cannot have that; ’tis always in the eye of my husband.
Phœ. I protest I will not keep it, but only use it for this virtue, as a token to fetch you, and approve[909] my power, where you shall not only be received, but made known to the best and chiefest.
Jew. Wife. O, are you true?
Phœ. Let me lose my revenue[910] else.
Jew. Wife. That’s your word, indeed! and upon that condition take it, this kiss, and my love for ever.
Phœ. Enough.
Jew. Wife. Give me thy hand, I’ll lead thee forth.
SCENE III.
Knight. Adieu, farewell;[911] to bed you; I to my sweet city-bird, my precious Revenue: the very thought of a hundred and fifty angels[912] increases oil and spirit, ho!
First Off. I arrest you. sir.
Knight. O!
First Off. You have made us wait a goodly time for you, have you not, think you? You are in your rouses[913] and mullwines,[914] a pox on you! and have no care of poor officers staying for you.
Knight. I drunk but one health, I protest; but I could void it now. At whose suit, I pray?
First Off. At the suit of him that makes suits, your tailor.
Knight. Why, he made me the last; this, this that I wear.
First Off. Argo,[915]—nay, we have been scholars, I can tell you,—we could not have been knaves so soon else; for as in that notable city called London stand two most famous universities, Poultry and Wood-street,[916] where some are of twenty years’ standing, and have took all their degrees, from the Master’s side down to the Mistress’ side, the Hole,[917] so in like manner——
Knight. Come, come, come, I had quite forgot the hundred and fifty angels.
Second Off. ’Slid, where be they?
Knight. I’ll bring you to the sight of’em presently.
First Off. A notable lad, and worthy to be arrested! We’ll have but ten for waiting; and then thou shalt choose whether thou wilt run away from us, or we from thee.
Knight. A match at running! come, come, follow me.
Second Off. Nay, fear not that.
Knight. Peace; you may happen to see toys,[918] but do not see ’em.
First Off. Pah!
Knight. That’s the door.
First Off. This? [Knocks.
Knight. ’S foot, officer, you have spoiled all already.
First Off. Why?
Knight. Why? you shall see: you should have but whirled the ring once about, and there’s a maidservant brought up to understand it.
Maid. [opening the door] Who’s at door?
Knight. All’s well again.—Phist, ’tis I, ’tis I.
Maid. You? what are you?
Knight. Pooh! where’s thy mistress?
Maid. What of her?
Knight. Tell her one—she knows who—her Pleasure’s here, say.
Maid. Her pleasure? my mistress scorns to be without her pleasure at this time of night. Is she so void of friends, think you? take that for thinking so.
First Off. The hundred and fifty angels are locked up in a box; we shall not see ’em tonight.
Knight. How’s this? am I used like a hundred-pound gentleman? does my Revenue forsake me? Damn me, if ever I be her Pleasure again!—Well, I must to prison.
First Off. Go prepare his room; there’s no remedy: I’ll bring him along; he’s tame enough now. [Exit Second Officer.
First Off. Come, come, away, sir!
Gent. Art sure thou sawest him arrested, drawer?
Dra. If mine eyes be sober.
Gent. And that’s a question. Mass, here he goes! he shall not go to prison; I have a trick shall bail him: away! [Exit Drawer.
First Off. O!
Gent. Guess, guess! who am I? who am I?
First Off. Who the devil are you? let go: a pox on you! who are you? I have lost my prisoner.
Gent. Prisoner? I’ve mistook; I cry you heartily mercy; I have done you infinite injury; a’ my troth, I took you to be an honest man.
First Off. Where were your eyes? could you not see I was an officer?—Stop, stop, stop, stop!
Gent. Ha, ha, ha, ha! [Exeunt severally.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Prod. Now, Phœnix.[919]
Phœ. Now, my lord.
Prod. Let princely blood Nourish our hopes; we bring confusion now.
Phœ. A terrible sudden blow.
Prod. Ay: what day Is this hangs over us?
Phœ. By th’ mass, Monday.
Prod. As I could wish; my purpose will thrive best: ’Twas first my birth-day, now my fortune’s day. I see whom fate will raise needs never pray.
Phœ. Never.
Prod. How is the air?
Phœ. O, full of trouble!
Prod. Does not the sky look piteously black?
Phœ. As if ’twere hung with rich men’s consciences.
Prod. Ah, stuck not a comet, like a carbuncle, Upon the dreadful brow of twelve last night?
Phœ. Twelve? no, ’twas about one.
Prod. About one? most proper, For that’s the duke.
Phœ. Well shifted from thyself! [Aside.
Duke [reads]. I have got such a large portion of knowledge, most worthy father, by the benefit of my travel——
Prod. And so he has, no doubt, my lord.
Duke [reads]. That I am bold now to warn you of Lord Proditor’s insolent treason, who has irreligiously seduced a fellow, and closely conveyed him e’en in the presence-chair to murder you.
Duke [reads]. Against Lussurioso and Infesto, who not only most riotously consume their houses in vicious gaming, mortgaging their livings to the merchant, whereby he with his heirs enter upon their lands; from whence this abuse comes, that in short time the son of the merchant has more lordships than the son of the nobleman, which else was never born to inheritance: but that which is more impious, they most adulterously train out young ladies to midnight banquets, to the utter defamation of their own honours, and ridiculous abuse of their husbands.
Fal. I hope so, my lord; my name is in all the records, I can assure your good grace.
Duke [reads]. Against Justice Falso——
Fal. Ah!
Duke [reads]. Who, having had the honest charge of his niece committed to his trust by the last will and testament of her deceased father, and with her all the power of his wealth, not only against faith and conscience detains her dowry, but against nature and humanity assays to abuse her body.
Duke. Seldom comes a worse.—[Reads] And moreover, not contained in[928] this vice only, which is odious too much, but, against the sacred use of justice, maintains three thieves to his men.
Fal. Cuds me!
Duke [reads]. Who only take purses in their master’s liberty, where if any one chance to be taken, he appears before him in a false beard, and one of his own fellows takes his examination.
Fal. By my troth, as true as can be; but he shall not know on’t. [Aside.
Duke [reads]. And in the end will execute justice so cruelly upon him, that he will not trust him in a prison, but commit him to his fellows’ chamber.
Fal. Can a man do nothing i’ the country but ’tis told at court? there’s some busy informing knave abroad, a’ my life. [Aside.
Fal. ’Slid, I was afraid of nothing, but that for my thievery and bawdery I should have been turned to an innkeeper. [Aside.