SCENE II.
Luc. My son-in-law, Sam Freedom, where’s my nephew?
Free. O man in lamentation,[105] father.
Luc. How!
Free. He thumps his breast like a gallant dicer that has lost his doublet, and stands in’s shirt to do penance.
Luc. Alas, poor gentleman!
Free. I warrant you may hear him sigh in a still evening to your house at Highgate.
Luc. I prithee, send him in.
Free. Were it to do a greater matter, I will not stick with you, sir, in regard you married my mother. [Exit.
Luc. Sweet gentlemen, cheer him up; I will but fetch the mortgage and return to you instantly.
Sec. G. Why, how now,[106] master Witgood? Fie! you a firm scholar, and an understanding gentleman, and give your best parts to passion?[107]
Luc. Ay, that’s it mads me, spites me! I’ll spend my wealth ere he shall carry her so, because I know ’tis only to spite me. Ay, this is it. Here, nephew [giving a paper], before these kind gentlemen, I deliver in your mortgage, my promise to the widow; see, ’tis done: be wise, you’re once more master of your own. The widow shall perceive now you are not altogether such a beggar as the world reputes you; you can make shift to bring her to three hundred a-year, sir.
Luc. You can all witness, gentlemen; and you, sir yeoman?
Host. My life for yours, sir, now, I know my mistress’s mind so[112] well toward your nephew, let things be in preparation, and I’ll train her hither in most excellent fashion. Exit.
Luc. A good old boy!—Wife! Jenny!
Mis. L. What’s the news, sir?
Luc. The wedding-day’s at hand: prithee, sweet wife, express thy housewifery; thou’rt a fine cook, I know’t; thy first husband married thee out of an alderman’s kitchen; go to, he raised thee for raising of paste. What! here’s none but friends; most of our beginnings must be winked at.—Gentlemen, I invite you all to my nephew’s wedding against Thursday morning.
SCENE III.
First C. A’ my troth, she’s the wiser; she has made the happier choice: and I wonder of what stuff those widows’ hearts are made of, that will marry unfledged boys before comely thrum-chinned[115] gentlemen.
Wit. My last joy was so great, it took away the sense of all future afflictions. What a day is here o’ercast! how soon a black tempest rises!
First C. O, we may speak with you now, sir! what’s become of your rich widow? I think you may cast your cap at the widow, may you not, sir?
Sec. C. He a rich widow? who, a prodigal, a daily rioter, and a nightly vomiter? he a widow of account? he a hole i’ th’ counter.[117]
Wit. You do well, my masters, to tyrannise over misery, to afflict the afflicted: ’tis a custom you have here amongst you; I would wish you never leave it, and I hope you’ll do as I bid you.
First C. Come, come, sir, what say you extempore now to your bill of a hundred pound? a sweet debt for froating[118] your doublets.
Sec. C. Here’s mine of forty.
Third C. Here’s mine of fifty.
Wit. Pray, sirs,—you’ll give me breath?
First C. No, sir, we’ll keep you out of breath still; then we shall be sure you will not run away from us.
Wit. Will you but hear me speak?
Sec. C. You shall pardon us for that, sir; we know you have too fair a tongue of your own; you overcame us too lately, a shame take you! we are like to lose all that for want of witnesses: we dealt in policy then; always when we strive to be most politic we prove most coxcombs: non plus ultra I perceive by us, we’re not ordained to thrive by wisdom, and therefore we must be content to be tradesmen.
Wit. Give me but reasonable time, and I protest I’ll make you ample satisfaction.
First C. Do you talk of reasonable time to us?
Wit. ’Tis true, beasts know no reasonable time.
Sec. C. We must have either money or carcass.
Wit. Alas, what good will my carcass do you?
Third C. O, ’tis a secret delight we have amongst us! we that are used to keep birds in cages, have the heart to keep men in prison, I warrant you.
Wit. I perceive I must crave a little more aid from my wits: do but make shift for me this once, and I’ll forswear ever to trouble you in the like fashion hereafter; I’ll have better employment for you, and[119] I live. [Aside.]—You’ll give me leave, my masters, to make trial of my friends, and raise all means I can?
First C. That’s our desire,[120] sir.
Host. Master Witgood.
Wit. O, art thou come?
Host. May I speak one word with you in private, sir?
Wit. No, by my faith, canst thou; I am in hell here, and the devils will not let me come to thee.
First C.[121] Do you call us devils? you shall find us puritans.—Bear him away; let ’em talk as they go; we’ll not stand to hear ’em.—Ah, sir, am I a devil? I shall think the better of myself as long as I live: a devil, i’faith!
SCENE IV.
Hoa. What a sweet blessing hast thou, master Hoard, above a multitude! wilt thou never be thankful? how dost thou think to be blest another time? or dost thou count this the full measure of thy happiness? by my troth, I think thou dost: not only a wife large in possessions, but spacious in content; she’s rich, she’s young, she’s fair, she’s wise: when I wake, I think of her lands—that revives me; when I go to bed, I dream of her beauty—and that’s enough for me: she’s worth four hundred a-year in her very smock, if a man knew how to use it. But the journey will be all, in troth, into the country; to ride to her lands in state and order following; my brother, and other worshipful gentlemen, whose companies I ha’ sent down for already, to ride along with us in their goodly decorum beards, their broad velvet cassocks, and chains of gold twice or thrice double; against which time I’ll entertain some ten men of mine own into liveries, all of occupations or qualities; I will not keep an idle man about me: the sight of which will so vex my adversary Lucre—for we’ll pass by his door of purpose, make a little stand for [the] nonce,[122] and have our horses curvet before the window—certainly he will never endure it, but run up and hang himself presently.
How now, sirrah, what news? any that offer their service to me yet?
Ser. Yes, sir, there are some i’ th’ hall that wait for your worship’s liking, and desire to be entertained.
Hoa. Are they of occupation?
Ser. They are men fit for your worship, sir.
Hoa. Sayest so? send ’em all in. [Exit Servant.]—To see ten men ride after me in watchet[123] liveries, with orange-tawny capes,[124]—’twill cut his comb, i’faith.
How now? of what occupation are you, sir?
Tai. A tailor, an’t please your worship.
Hoa. A tailor? O, very good: you shall serve to make all the liveries.—What are you, sir?
Bar. A barber, sir.
Hoa. A barber? very needful: you shall shave all the house, and, if need require, stand for a reaper i’ th’ summer time.—You, sir?
Per. A perfumer.
Hoa. I smelt you before: perfumers, of all men, had need carry themselves uprightly; for if they were once knaves, they would be smelt out quickly.—To you, sir?
Fal. A falconer, an’t please your worship.
Hoa. Sa ho, sa ho, sa ho!—And you, sir?
Hunt. A huntsman, sir.
Hoa. There, boy, there, boy, there, boy! I am not so old but I have pleasant days to come. I promise you, my masters, I take such a good liking to you, that I entertain you all; I put you already into my countenance, and you shall be shortly in my livery; but especially you two, my jolly falconer and my bonny huntsman; we shall have most need of you at my wife’s manor-houses i’ th’ country; there’s goodly parks and champion[125] grounds for you; we shall have all our sports within ourselves; all the gentlemen a’ th’ country shall be beholding[126] to us and our pastimes.
Fal. And we’ll make your worship admire, sir.
Hoa. Sayest thou so? do but make me admire, and thou shalt want for nothing.—My tailor.
Tai. Anon, sir.
Hoa. Go presently in hand with the liveries.
Tai. I will, sir.
Hoa. My barber.
Bar. Here, sir.
Hoa. Make ’em all trim fellows, louse ’em well,—especially my huntsman,—and cut all their beards of the Polonian fashion.—My perfumer.
Per. Under your nose, sir.
Hoa. Cast a better savour upon the knaves, to take away the scent of my tailor’s feet, and my barber’s lotium-water.
Per. It shall be carefully performed, sir.
Hoa. But you, my falconer and huntsman, the welcomest men alive, i’faith!
Hunt. And we’ll shew you that, sir, shall deserve your worship’s favour.
Hoa. I prithee, shew me that.—Go, you knaves all, and wash your lungs i’ th’ buttery, go. [Exeunt Tailor, Barber, &c.]—By th’ mass, and well remembered! I’ll ask my wife that question.—Wife, mistress Jane Hoard!
Court. Sir, would you with me?
Hoa. I would but know, sweet wife, which might stand best to thy liking, to have the wedding dinner kept here or i’ th’ country?
Court. Hum:—faith, sir, ’twould like[127] me better here; here you were married, here let all rites be ended.
Hoa. Could a marquesse[128] give a better answer? Hoard, bear thy head aloft, thou’st a wife will advance it.
What haste comes here now? yea, a letter? some dreg of my adversary’s malice. Come hither; what’s the news?
Host. A thing that concerns my mistress, sir.
Hoa. Why then it concerns me, knave.
Host. Ay, and you, knave, too (cry your worship mercy): you are both like to come into trouble, I promise you, sir; a pre-contract.
Hoa. How? a pre-contract, sayest thou?
Host. I fear they have too much proof on’t, sir: old Lucre, he runs mad up and down, and will to law as fast as he can; young Witgood laid hold on by his creditors, he exclaims upon you a’ t’other side, says you have wrought his undoing by the injurious detaining of his contract.
Hoa. Body a’ me!
Court. Alas, his creditors so merciless! my state being yet uncertain, I deem it not unconscionable to further him. [Aside.
Host. True, sir.
Hoa. Wife, what says that letter? let me construe it.
Court. Curs’d be my rash and unadvised words!
Hoa. Wife——
Host. A pretty shift, i’faith! I commend a woman when she can make away a letter from her husband handsomely, and this was cleanly done, by my troth. [Aside.
Hoa. Where? how, dear wife?
Court. He is now caught by his creditors; the slave’s needy; his debts petty; he’ll rather bind himself to all inconveniences than rot in prison: by this only means you may get a release from him: ’tis not yet come to his uncle’s hearing; send speedily for the creditors; by this time he’s desperate; he’ll set his hand to any thing: take order for his debts, or discharge ’em quite: a pax[129] on him, let’s be rid of a rascal!
Hoa. In the mean space I’ll have a release drawn.—Within there!
Ser. Sir?
Hoa. Sirrah, come take directions; go to my scrivener.
Hoa. Away, despatch, on my displeasure quickly.
Happy occasion! pray heaven he be in the right vein now to set his hand to’t, that nothing alter him; grant that all his follies may meet in him at once, to besot him enough! I pray for him, i’faith, and here he comes.
Wit. What would you with me now, my uncle’s spiteful adversary?
Hoa. Nay, I am friends.
Wit. Ay, when your mischief’s spent.
Hoa. I heard, you were arrested.
Wit. Well, what then? you will pay none of my debts, I am sure.
Will he come off, think’st thou, and pay my debts roundly?
Court. Doubt nothing; there’s a release a-drawing and all, to which you must set your hand.
Wit. Excellent!
Court. But methinks, i’faith, you might have made some shift to discharge this yourself, having in the mortgage, and never have burdened my conscience with it.
Wit. A’ my troth, I could not, for my creditors’ cruelties extend to the present.
Wit. You’re impudent; I’ll call up witnesses.
Hoa. Wife, you’re too bitter.— Master Witgood, and you, my masters, you shall hear a mild speech come from me now, and this it is: ’t has been my fortune, gentlemen, to have an extraordinary blessing poured upon me a’ late, and here she stands; I have wedded her, and bedded her, and yet she is little the worse: some foolish words she hath passed to you in the country, and some peevish[132] debts you owe here in the city; set the hare’s head to the goose-giblet,[133] release you her of her words, and I’ll release you of your debts, sir.
Wit. Would you so? I thank you for that, sir; I cannot blame you, i’faith.
Hoa. Why, are not debts better than words, sir?
Wit. Are not words promises, and are not promises debts, sir?
Hoa. He plays at back-racket with me. [Aside.
First C. Come hither, master Witgood, come hither; be ruled by fools once.
Sec. C. We are citizens, and know what belong[s] to’t.
First C. Take hold of his offer: pax[134] on her, let her go; if your debts were once discharged, I would help you to a widow myself worth ten of her.
Third C. Mass, partner, and now you remember me on’t, there’s master Mulligrub’s sister newly fallen a widow.
First C. Cuds me, as pat as can be! there’s a widow left for you; ten thousand in money, beside plate, jewels, et cetera : I warrant it a match; we can do all in all with her; prithee, despatch; we’ll carry thee to her presently.
Wit. My uncle will ne’er endure me when he shall hear I set my hand to a release.
Sec. C. Hark, I’ll tell thee a trick for that: I have spent five hundred pound in suits in my time, I should be wise; thou’rt now a prisoner; make a release; take’t of my word, whatsoever a man makes as long as he is in durance, ’tis nothing in law, not thus much.
Wit. Say you so, sir?
Third C. I have paid for’t, I know’t.
Wit. Proceed then; I consent.
Third C. Why, well said.
Hoa. How now, my masters, what have you done with him?
First C. With much ado, sir, we have got him to consent.
Hoa. Ah—a—a! and what come[135] his debts to now?
First C. Some eight score odd pounds, sir.
Hoa. Naw, naw, naw, naw, naw! tell me the second time; give me a lighter sum; they are but desperate debts, you know; ne’er called in but upon such an accident; a poor, needy knave, he would starve and rot in prison: come, come, you shall have ten shillings in the pound, and the sum down roundly.
First C. You must make it a mark,[136] sir.
Hoa. Go to then, tell your money in the meantime; you shall find little less there. [Giving them money.]—Come, master Witgood, you are so unwilling to do yourself good now!
Welcome, honest scrivener.—Now you shall hear the release read.
Scri. [reads] Be it known to all men, by these presents, that I, Theodorus Witgood, gentleman, sole nephew to Pecunius Lucre, having unjustly made title and claim to one Jane Medler, late widow of Anthony Medler, and now wife to Walkadine Hoard, in consideration of a competent sum of money to discharge my debts, do for ever hereafter disclaim any title, right, estate, or interest in or to the said widow, late in the occupation of the said Anthony Medler, and now in the occupation of Walkadine Hoard; as also neither to lay claim by virtue of any former contract, grant, promise, or demise, to any of her manor[s], manor-houses, parks, groves, meadow-grounds, arable lands, barns, stacks, stables, dove-holes, and coney-burrows; together with all her cattle, money, plate, jewels, borders, chains, bracelets, furnitures, hangings, moveables or immoveables.[137] In witness whereof, I the said Theodorus Witgood have interchangeably set to my hand and seal before these presents, the day and date above written.
Wit. What a precious fortune hast thou slipt here, like a beast as thou art!