1st Ser. I’ll speak Greek, my lord, ere I speak that deadly word.
2nd Ser. And I’ll speak Welsh, which is harder than Greek.
Enter Castruchio, Pioratto, and Fluello.
Cas. Signor Pioratto, Signor Fluello, shall’s be merry? shall’s play the wags now?
Cas. Truth, I have a pretty sportive conceit new crept into my brain, will move excellent mirth.
Pio. Let’s ha’t, let’s ha’t; and where shall the scene of mirth lie?
Cas. At Signor Candido’s house, the patient man, nay, the monstrous patient man; they say his blood is immoveable, that he has taken all patience from a man, and all constancy from a woman.
Flu. That makes so many whores now-a-days.
Cas. Ay, and so many knaves too.
Pio. Well, sir.
Cas. To conclude, the report goes, he’s so mild, so affable, so suffering, that nothing indeed can move him: now do but think what sport it will be to make this fellow, the mirror of patience, as angry, as vexed, and as mad as an English cuckold.
Flu. O, ’twere admirable mirth, that: but how will’t be done, signor?
Cas. Let me alone, I have a trick, a conceit, a thing, a device will sting him i’faith, if he have but a thimbleful of blood in’s belly, or a spleen not so big as a tavern token.
Pio. Thou stir him? thou move him? thou anger him? alas, I know his approved temper: thou vex him? why he has a patience above man’s injuries: thou may’st sooner raise a spleen in an angel, than rough humour in him. Why I’ll give you instance for it. This wonderfully tempered Signor Candido upon a time invited home to his house certain Neapolitan lords, of curious taste, and no mean palates, conjuring his wife, of all loves,[135] to prepare cheer fitting for such honourable trencher-men. She—just of a woman’s nature, covetous to try the uttermost of vexation, and thinking at last to get the start of his humour—willingly neglected the preparation, and became unfurnished, not only of dainty, but of ordinary dishes. He, according to the mildness of his breast, entertained the lords, and with courtly discourse beguiled the time, as much as a citizen might do. To conclude, they were hungry lords, for there came no meat in; their stomachs were plainly gulled, and their teeth deluded, and, if anger could have seized a man, there was matter enough i’faith to vex any citizen in the world, if he were not too much made a fool by his wife.
Flu. Ay, I’ll swear for’t: ’sfoot, had it been my case, I should ha’ played mad tricks with my wife and family: first, I would ha’ spitted the men, stewed the maids, and baked the mistress, and so served them in.
Cas. ’Sblood, Signor Pioratto, you that disparage my conceit, I’ll wage a hundred ducats upon the head on’t, that it moves him, frets him, and galls him.
Pio. Done, ’tis a lay,[136] join golls[137] on’t: witness Signor Fluello.
George and two Prentices discovered: enter Viola.
Vio. Come, you put up your wares in good order here, do you not, think you? one piece cast this way, another that way! you had need have a patient master indeed.
Geo. Ay. I’ll be sworn, for we have a curst mistress. [Aside.
Vio. You mumble, do you? mumble? I would your master or I could be a note more angry! for two patient folks in a house spoil all the servants that ever shall come under them.
1st Pren. You patient! ay, so is the devil when he is horn-mad. [Aside.
Enter Castruchio, Fluello, and Pioratto.
Geo. Gentlemen, what do you lack?[138]
1st Pren. What is’t you buy?
2nd Pren. See fine hollands, fine cambrics, fine lawns.
Geo. What is’t you lack?
2nd Pren. What is’t you buy?
Cas. Where’s Signor Candido, thy master?
Geo. Faith, signor, he’s a little negotiated, he’ll appear presently.
Cas. Fellow, let’s see a lawn, a choice one, sirrah.
Geo. The best in all Milan, gentlemen, and this is the piece. I can fit you gentlemen with fine calicoes too for doublets, the only sweet fashion now, most delicate and courtly, a meek gentle calico, cut upon two double affable taffetas,—ah, most neat, feat, and unmatchable!
Flu. A notable voluble-tongued villain.
Pio. I warrant this fellow was never begot without much prating.
Cas. What, and is this she, sayest thou?
Geo. Ay, and the purest she that ever you fingered since you were a gentleman: look how even she is, look how clean she is, ha! as even as the brow of Cynthia, and as clean as your sons and heirs when they ha’ spent all.
Cas. Pooh, thou talkest—pox on’t, ’tis rough.
Geo. How? is she rough? but if you bid pox on’t, sir, ’twill take away the roughness presently.
Flu. Ha, signor; has he fitted your French curse?
Geo. Look you, gentlemen, here’s another, compare them I pray, compara Virgilium cum Homero, compare virgins with harlots.
Cas. Pooh, I ha’ seen better, and as you term them, evener and cleaner.
Geo. You may see further for your mind, but trust me, you shall not find better for your body.
Enter Candido.
Cas. O here he comes, let’s make as though we pass. Come, come, we’ll try in some other shop.
Cand. How now? what’s the matter?
Geo. The gentlemen find fault with this lawn, fall out with it, and without a cause too.
Flu. He calls us.
Cas. —Makes the better for the jest.
Cas. Well, how do you rate it?
Cand. Very conscionably, eighteen shillings a yard.
Cas. That’s too dear: how many yards does the whole piece contain, think you?
Cas. Why, let me see—would it were better too!
Cand. Truth, tis the best in Milan at few words.
Cas. Well: let me have then—a whole penny-worth.
Cand. Ha, ha! you’re a merry gentleman.
Cas. A penn’orth I say.
Cand. Of lawn!
Cas. Of lawn? Ay, of lawn, a penn’orth. ’Sblood, dost not hear? a whole penn’orth, are you deaf?
Cas. Nay, an you and your lawns be so squeamish, fare you well.
Cand. Pray stay; a word, pray, signor: for what purpose is it, I beseech you?
Cas. ’Sblood, what’s that to you: I’ll have a penny-worth.
Cand. A penny-worth! why you shall: I’ll serve you presently.
2nd Pren. ’Sfoot, a penny-worth, mistress!
Vio. A penny-worth! call you these gentlemen?
Cas. No, no: not there.
Cand. What then, kind gentlemen, what at this corner here?
Cas. Yes, here’s one.
Cand. Lend it me, I pray.
Flu. An excellent followed jest!
Vio. What will he spoil the lawn now?
Cand. Patience, good wife.
Vio. Ay, that patience makes a fool of you.—Gentlemen, you might ha’ found some other citizen to have made a kind gull on, besides my husband.
Vio. Customers with a murrain! call you these customers?
Cand. Patience, good wife.
Vio. Pox a’ your patience.
Geo. ’Sfoot, mistress, I warrant these are some cheating companions.
Cand. Look you, gentlemen, there’s your ware, I thank you, I have your money here; pray know my shop, pray let me have your custom.
Vio. Custom quoth’a.
Cand. Let me take more of your money.
Vio. You had need so.
Pio. Hark in thine ear, thou’st lost an hundred ducats.
Re-enter George with beaker.
Cand. Here wife, begin you to the gentleman.
Vio. I begin to him! [Spills the wine.
Cas. Sweet Fluello, I should be bountiful to that conceit.
Flu. Well, ’tis enough.
Re-enter George with beaker.
Cas. I pledge you, Signor Candido—[Drinks.]—here you that must receive a hundred ducats.
Pio. I’ll pledge them deep, i’faith, Castruchio.—Signor Fluello. [Drinks.
Cand. George supply the cup. [Exit George who returns with beaker filled.
Flu. Not pledge me? ’Sblood, I’ll carry away the beaker then.
Flu. Nay, it doth please me, and as you say, ’tis a very good one. Farewell Signor Candido.
[Exeunt Castruchio, Fluello carrying off the beaker, and Pioratto.
Geo. I told you before, mistress, they were all cheaters.
Vio. Why fool! why husband! why madman! I hope you will not let ’em sneak away so with a silver and gilt beaker, the best in the house too.—Go, fellows, make hue and cry after them.
Vio. O you’re a goodly patient woodcock,[140] are you not now? See what your patience comes to: every one saddles you, and rides you; you’ll be shortly the common stone-horse of Milan: a woman’s well holped up with such a meacock[141]; I had rather have a husband that would swaddle[142] me thrice a day, than such a one, that will be gulled twice in half-an-hour: Oh, I could burn all the wares in my shop for anger.
Vio. Hang your agreements! but if my beaker be gone.— [Exit.
Re-enter Castruchio, Fluello, Pioratto, and George.
Cand. Oh, here they come.
Geo. The constable, sir, let ’em come along with me, because there should be no wondering: he stays at door.
Cas. Constable, Goodman Abra’m.[143]
Flu. Now Signor Candido, ’sblood why do you attach us?
Cas. I hope y’are not angry, sir.
Cand. Then you hope right; for I’m not angry.
Flu. No, but a little moved.
Cand. I moved! ’twas you were moved, you were brought hither.
Enter Roger with a stool, cushion, looking-glass and chafing-dish; these being set down, he pulls out of his pocket a phial with white colour in it, and two boxes, one with white, another with red paint; he places all things in order, and a candle by them, singing the ends of old ballads as he does it. At last Bellafront, as he rubs his cheek with the colours, whistles within.
Rog. Anon, forsooth.
Bell. [Within.] What are you playing the rogue about?
Rog. About you, forsooth; I’m drawing up a hole in your white silk stocking.
Bell. Is my glass there? and my boxes of complexion?
Rog. Yes, forsooth: your boxes of complexion are here, I think: yes, ’tis here: here’s your two complexions, and if I had all the four complexions, I should ne’er set a good face upon’t. Some men I see, are born, under hard-favoured planets as well as women. Zounds, I look worse now than I did before! and it makes her face glister most damnably. There’s knavery in daubing, I hold my life; or else this only female pomatum.
Enter Bellafront not full ready;[144] she sits down; curls her hair with her bodkin; and colours her lips.
Bell. Where’s my ruff and poker,[145] you blockhead?
Rog. Your ruff, your poker, are engendering together upon the cupboard of the court, or the court cupboard.[146]
Bell. Fetch ’em: is the pox in your hams, you can go no faster? [Strikes him.
Rog. Would the pox were in your fingers, unless you could leave flinging! catch— [Exit.
Bell. I’ll catch you, you dog, by and by: do you grumble? [Sings.
Re-enter Roger with ruff and poker.
Rog. There’s your ruff, shall I poke it?
Bell. Yes, honest Roger—no, stay; prithee, good boy, hold here. [Sings.] [Roger holds the glass and candle.] Down, down, down, down, I fall down and arise,—down—I never shall arise.
Rog. Troth mistress, then leave the trade if you shall never rise.
Bell. What trade, Goodman Abra’m?[147]
Rog. Why that of down and arise or the falling trade.
Bell. I’ll fall with you by and by.
Bell. Like as you are; a panderly sixpenny rascal.
Rog. I may thank you for that: in faith I look like an old proverb, “Hold the candle before the devil.”
Bell. Ud’s life, I’ll stick my knife in your guts an you prate to me so!—What? [Sings.
Pox on you, how dost thou hold my glass?
Rog. Why, as I hold your door: with my fingers.
Bell. Nay, pray thee, sweet honey Roger, hold up handsomely. [Sings.
We shall ha’ guests to day, I lay my little maidenhead; my nose itches so.
Rog. I said so too last night, when our fleas twinged me.
Bell. So, poke my ruff now, my gown, my gown! have I my fall? where’s my fall, Roger?
Rog. Your fall, forsooth, is behind. [Knocking within.
Bell. God’s my pittikins![149] some fool or other knocks.
Rog. Shall I open to the fool, mistress?
Bell. And all these baubles lying thus? Away with it quickly.—Ay, ay, knock, and be damned, whosoever you be!—So: give the fresh salmon line now: let him come ashore. [Exit Roger.] He shall serve for my breakfast, though he go against my stomach.
Enter Fluello, Castruchio, and Pioratto, with Roger.
Flu. Morrow, coz.
Cas. How does my sweet acquaintance?
Pio. Save thee, little marmoset: how dost thou, good, pretty rogue?
Bell. Well, God-a-mercy, good, pretty rascal.
Flu. Roger, some light, I prithee.
Rog. You shall, signor, for we that live here in this vale of misery are as dark as hell. [Exit for a candle.
Cas. Good tobacco, Fluello?
Flu. Smell.
Pio. It may be tickling gear: for it plays with my nose already. [Re-enter Roger with candle.
Rog. Here’s another light angel,[150] signor.
Bell. What? you pied curtal,[151] what’s that you are neighing?
Rog. Hippocras,[152] sir, for my mistress, if I fetch it, is most dear to her.
Flu. Hippocras? there then, here’s a teston for you, you snake. [They give money.
Rog. Right sir, here’s three shillings and sixpence for a pottle[153] and a manchet.[154] [Exit.
Cas. Here’s most Herculanean tobacco; ha’ some, acquaintance?
Bell. Faugh, not I, makes your breath stink like the piss of a fox. Acquaintance, where supped you last night?
Cas. At a place, sweet acquaintance, where your health danced the canaries,[155] i’faith: you should ha’ been there.
Bell. I there among your punks![156] marry, faugh, hang’em; I scorn’t: will you never leave sucking of eggs in other folk’s hens’ nests?
Cas. Why, in good troth, if you’ll trust me, acquaintance, there was not one hen at the board; ask Fluello.
Flu. No, faith, coz, none but cocks; Signor Malavella drunk to thee.
Bell. O, a pure beagle; that horse-leech there?
Flu. And the knight, Sir Oliver Lollio, swore he would bestow a taffeta petticoat on thee, but to break his fast with thee.
Bell. With me? I’ll choke him then, hang him, mole-catcher! it’s the dreamingest snotty-nose.
Pio. Well, many took that Lollio for a fool, but he’s a subtle fool.
Bell. Ay, and he has fellows: of all filthy, dry-fisted knights, I cannot abide that he should touch me.
Cas. Why, wench? is he scabbed?
Bell. Hang him, he’ll not live to be so honest, nor to the credit to have scabs about him; his betters have ’em: but I hate to wear out any of his coarse knight-hood, because he’s made like an alderman’s night-gown, faced all with cony[157] before, and within nothing but fox: this sweet Oliver will eat mutton till he be ready to burst, but the lean-jawed slave will not pay for the scraping of his trencher.
Pio. Plague him; set him beneath the salt, and let him not touch a bit, till every one has had his full cut.
Flu. Lord Ello, the gentleman-usher, came into us too; marry ’twas in our cheese, for he had been to borrow money for his lord, of a citizen.
Cas. What an ass is that lord, to borrow money of a citizen!
Bell. Nay, God’s my pity, what an ass is that citizen to lend money to a lord!
Enter Matheo and Hippolito; Hippolito saluting the company, as a stranger, walks off.[158] Roger comes in sadly behind them, with a pottle pot, and stands aloof off.
Mat. Save you, gallants. Signor Fluello, exceedingly well met, as I may say.
Flu. Signor Matheo, exceedingly well met too, as I may say.
Mat. And how fares my little pretty mistress?
Bell. Ee’n as my little pretty servant; sees three court dishes before her, and not one good bit in them:—How now? why the devil standest thou so? Art in a trance?
Rog. Yes, forsooth.
Bell. Why dost not fill out their wine?
Rog. Forsooth, ’tis filled out already: all the wine that the signors have bestowed upon you is cast away; a porter ran a little at me, and so faced me down that I had not a drop.
Bell. I’m accursed to let such a withered artichoke-faced rascal grow under my nose: now you look like an old he-cat, going to the gallows: I’ll be hanged if he ha’ not put up the money to cony-catch[159] us all.
Rog. No, truly, forsooth, ’tis not put up yet.
Bell. How many gentlemen hast thou served thus?
Rog. None but five hundred, besides prentices and serving-men.
Bell. Dost think I’ll pocket it up at thy hands?
Rog. Yes, forsooth, I fear you will pocket it up.
Bell. Fie, fie, cut my lace, good servant; I shall ha’ the mother[160] presently, I’m so vext at this horse-plumb.
Flu. Plague, not for a scald[161] pottle of wine!
Mat. Nay, sweet Bellafront, for a little pig’s wash!
Cas. Here Roger, fetch more. [Gives money.] A mischance, i’faith, acquaintance.
Bell. Out of my sight, thou ungodly puritanical creature.
Rog. For the t’other pottle? yes, forsooth.
Bell. Spill that too. [Exit Roger.] What gentleman is that, servant? your friend?
Mat. Gods so; a stool, a stool! If you love me mistress, entertain this gentleman respectively,[162] and bid him welcome.
Bell. He’s very welcome,—pray, sir, sit.
Hip. Thanks, lady.
Flu. Count Hippolito, is’t not? Cry you mercy signor; you walk here all this while, and we not heard you! Let me bestow a stool upon you, beseech you; you are a stranger here, we know the fashions a’th’ house.
Cas. Please you be here, my lord? [Offers tobacco.
Hip. No, good Castruchio.
Flu. You have abandoned the Court, I see, my lord, since the death of your mistress; well, she was a delicate piece—Beseech you, sweet, come let us serve under the colours of your acquaintance still for all that—Please you to meet here at the lodging of my coz, I shall bestow a banquet upon you.