Hell. Why, therefore take heart, faint not at all;
Women ne’er rise but when they fall:
Let a man break, he’s gone, blown up;
A woman’s breaking sets her up:
Virginity is no city trade,
You’re out a’ th’ freedom when you’re a maid:
Down with the lattice, ’tis but thin;
Let coarser beauties work within,
Whom the light mocks; thou art fair and fresh;
The gilded flies will light upon thy flesh.
Coun. W. Beshrew your sweet enchantments, you have won!
Hell. How easily soft women are undone!
So farewell wholesome weeds, where treasure pants;[986]
And welcome silks, where lie[987] disease and wants!
[Aside.
Come, wench; now flow thy fortunes in to bless thee;
I’ll bring thee where thou shalt be taught to dress thee.

Coun. W. O, as soon as may be! I am in a swoon till I be a gentlewoman; and you know what flesh is man’s meat till it be dressed?

Hell. Most certain, no more; a woman. [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

An Ordinary.[988]
Rearage, Salewood, Lethe, Easy, and Shortyard, discovered at dice: Boy attending.

Rear. Gentlemen, I ha’ sworn I’ll change the room. Dice? devils!

Let. You see I’m patient, gentlemen.

Sale. Ay, the fiend’s in’t! you’re patient; you put up all.

Rear. Come, set me, gentlemen!

Sho. An Essex gentleman, sir.

Easy. An unfortunate one, sir.

Sho. I’m bold to salute you, sir: you know not master Alsup there?

Easy. O, entirely well.

Sho. Indeed, sir?

Easy. He’s second to my bosom.

Sho. I’ll give you that comfort then, sir, you must not want money as long as you are in town, sir.

Easy. No, sir?

Sho. I am bound in my love to him to see you furnished; and in that comfort I recover my salute again, sir.

Easy. Then I desire to be more dear unto you.

Sho. I rather study to be dear unto you. [Aside.]—Boy, fill some wine.—I knew not what fair impressure[989] I received at first, but I began to affect your society very speedily.

Easy. I count myself the happier.

Sho. To master Alsup, sir; to whose remembrance I could love to drink till I were past remembrance. [Drinks.

Easy. I shall keep Christmas with him, sir, where your health shall likewise undoubtedly be remembered; and thereupon I pledge you. [Drinks.] I would sue for your name, sir.

Sho. Your suit shall end in one term, sir; my name is Blastfield.

Easy. Kind master Blastfield, your dearer acquaintance. [Drinks.

Rear. Nay, come, will ye draw in, gentlemen? set me.

Easy. Faith, I’m scattered.

Sho. Sir, you shall not give out so meanly of yourself in my company for a million: make such privy to your disgrace! you’re a gentleman of fair fortunes; keep me your reputation: set ’em all; there’s crowns for you.

[Giving him money.

Easy. Sir, you bind me infinitely in these courtesies.

Sho. You must always have a care of your reputation here in town, master Easy: although you ride down with nothing, it skills[990] not.

Easy. I’m glad you tell me that yet, then I’m indifferent.—Well, come; who throws? I set all these.

Sho. Why, well said.

Sale. This same master Lethe here begins to undo us again.

Let. Ah, sir, I came not hither but to win!

Sho. And then you’ll leave us; that’s your fashion.

Let. He’s base that visits not his friends.

Sho. But he’s more base that carries out his winnings;
None will do so but those have base beginnings.
Let. It is a thing in use, and ever was.
I pass this time.
Sho. I wonder you should pass,
And that you’re suffer’d.
Let. Tut, the dice are ours;
Then wonder not at those that have most powers.
Rear. The devil and his angels!
Let. Are these they?
Welcome, dear angels![991] where you’re curs’d ne’er stay.

Sale. Here’s luck!

Easy. Let’s search him, gentlemen; I think he wears a smock.[992]

Sho. I knew the time he wore not half a shirt,
Just like a pea.

Easy. No? how did he for the rest?

Sho. Faith, he compounded with a couple of napkins at Barnet, and so trussed up the lower parts.

Easy. ’Twas a pretty shift, i’faith!

Sho. But master Lethe has forgot that too.

Easy. A mischief on’t, to lose all! I could——

Sho. Nay, but, good master Easy, do not do yourself that tyranny, I beseech you; I must not ha’ you alter your body now for the purge of a little money: you undo me, and[993] you do.

Easy. ’Twas all I brought up with me, I protest, master Blastfield; all my rent till next quarter.

Sho. Pox of money! talk not on’t, I beseech you,—what said I to you? mass, I am out of cash myself too.—Boy.

Boy. Anon, sir.

Sho. Run presently to master Gum the mercer, and will[994], him to tell out two or three hundred pound for me, or more, according as he is furnished: I’ll visit him i’ th’ morning, say.

Boy. It shall be said, sir. [Going.

Sho. Do you hear, boy?

Boy. Yes, sir.

Sho. If master Gum be not sufficiently ready, call upon master Profit the goldsmith.

Boy. It shall be done, sir. [Going.

Sho. Boy.

Boy. I knew[995] I was not sent yet; now is the time. [Aside.

Sho. Let them both rest till another occasion; you shall not need to run so far at this time; take one nigher hand; go to master Quomodo the draper, and will him to furnish me instantly.

Boy. Now I go, sir. [Exit.

Easy. It seems you’re well known, master Blastfield, and your credit very spacious here i’ th’ city.

Sho. Master Easy, let a man bear himself portly, the whorsons will creep to him a’ their bellies, and their wives a’ their backs: there’s a kind of bold grace expected throughout all the parts of a gentleman. Then for your observances, a man must not so much as spit but within line and fashion. I tell you what I ha’ done: sometimes I carry my water all London over only to deliver it proudly at the Standard;[996] and do I pass altogether unnoted, think you? no, a man can no sooner peep out his head but there’s a bow bent at him out of some watch-tower or other.

Easy. So readily, sir?

Sho. Push,[997] you know a bow’s quickly ready, though a gun be long a-charging, and will shoot five times to his once. Come, you shall bear yourself jovially: take heed of setting your looks to your losses, but rather smile upon your ill luck, and invite ’em to-morrow to another breakfast of bones.

Easy. Nay, I’ll forswear dicing.

Sho. What? peace, I am ashamed to hear you: will you cease in the first loss? shew me one gentleman that e’er did it. Fie upon’t, I must use you to company, I perceive; you’d be spoiled else. Forswear dice! I would your friends heard you, i’faith!

Easy. Nay, I was but in jest, sir.

Sho. I hope so: what would gentlemen say of you? there goes a gull that keeps his money! I would not have such a report go on you for the world, as long as you are in my company. Why, man, fortune alters in a minute; I ha’ known those have recovered so much in an hour, their purses were never sick after.

Rear. O, worse than consumption of the liver! consumption of the patrimony!

Sho. How now? Mark their humours, master Easy.

Rear. Forgive me, my posterity yet ungotten!

Sho. That’s a penitent maudlin dicer.

Rear. Few know the sweets that the plain life allows:
Vild[998] son that surfeits of his father’s brows!

Sho. Laugh at him, master Easy.

Easy. Ha, ha, ha!

Sale. I’ll be damned, and[999] these be not the bones of some quean that cozened me in her life, and now consumes me after her death.

Sho. That’s the true wicked, blasphemous, and soul-shuddering dicer, that will curse you all service-time, and attribute his ill luck always to one drab or other!

Enter Hellgill.

Let. Dick Hellgill? the happy news.

Hell. I have her for you, sir.

Let. Peace: what is she?

Hell. Young, beautiful, and plump; a delicate piece of sin.

Let. Of what parentage?

Hell. O, a gentlewoman of a great house.

Let. Fie, fie.

Hell. She newly came out of a barn—yet too good for a tooth-drawer’s son. [Aside.

Let. Is she wife or maid?

Hell. That which is daintiest, maid.

Let. I’d rather she’d been a wife.

Hell. A wife, sir? why?

Let. O, adultery is a great deal sweeter in my mind.

Hell. Diseases gnaw thy bones! [Aside.
I think she has deserv’d to be a wife, sir.
Let. That will move well.
Hell. Her firstlings shall be mine:
Swine look but for the husks; the meat be thine.
Re-enter Boy.

Sho. How now, boy?

Boy. Master Quomodo takes your worship’s greeting exceeding kindly, and in his commendations returns this answer, that your worship shall not be so apt to receive it as he willing to lend it.

Sho. Why, we thank him, i’faith.

Easy. Troth, and you ha’ reason to thank him, sir; ’twas a very friendly answer.

Sho. Push,[1000] a gentleman that keeps his days even here i’ th’ city, as I myself watch to do, shall have many of those answers in a twelvemonth, master Easy.

Easy. I promise you, sir, I admire your carriage, and begin to hold a more reverend respect of you.

Sho. Not so, I beseech you; I give my friends leave to be inward[1001] with me.—Will you walk, gentlemen?

Let. We’re for you.—
Present her with this jewel, my first token.
[Giving jewel to Hellgill.
Enter Drawer.

Dra. There are certain countrymen without, inquiring for master Rearage and master Salewood.

Rear. Tenants?

Sale. Thou revivest us, rascal.

Rear. When’s our next meeting, gentlemen?

Sho. To-morrow night;
This gentleman, by me, invites you all.—
Do you not, master Easy?
Easy. Freely, sir.
Sale. We do embrace your love.—A pure, fresh gull.
[Aside.
Sho. Thus make you men at parting dutiful,
And rest beholding[1002] to you; ’tis the slight,[1003]
To be remember’d when you’re out of sight.
Easy. A pretty virtue! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Street.
Enter the Country Wench’s Father.
Fath. Where shall I seek her now? O, if she knew
The dangers that attend on women’s lives,
She’d[1004] rather lodge under a poor thatch’d roof
Than under carved ceilings! She was my joy,
And all content that I receiv’d from life,
My dear and only daughter.
What says the note she left? let me again
With staider grief peruse it.

[Reads.] Father, wonder not at my so sudden departure, without your leave or knowledge. Thus, under pardon, I excuse it: had you had knowledge of it, I know you would have sought to restrain it, and hinder me from what I have long desired. Being now happily preferred to a gentleman’s service in London, about Holborn, if you please to send, you may hear well of me.

As false as she is disobedient!
I’ve made larger inquiry, left no place
Where gentry keeps[1005] unsought, yet cannot hear;
Which drives me most into a shameful fear.
Woe worth th’ infected cause that makes me visit
This man-devouring city! where I spent
My unshapen youth, to be my age’s curse,
And surfeited away my name and state
In swinish riots, that now, being sober,
I do awake a beggar: I may hate her:
Whose youth voids wine, his age is curs’d with water.
O heavens, I know the price of ill too well!
What the confusions are in whom they dwell,
And how soon maids are to their ruins won,
One minute, and eternally undone;
So in mine may it: may it not be thus!
Though she be poor, her honour’s precious.
May be my present form, and her fond[1006] fear,
May chase her from me, if her eye should get me;
And therefore, as my love and wants advise,
I’ll serve, until I find her, in disguise.
Such is my care to fright her from base evils,
I leave calm state to live amongst you, devils.
[Exit.

SCENE III.

Quomodo’s Shop.
Enter Thomasine[1007] and Mother Gruel.

Tho. Were these fit words, think you, to be sent to any citizen’s wife,—to enjoy the daughter, and love the mother too for a need? I would foully scorn that man that should love me only for a need, I tell you. And here the knave writes again, that by the marriage of my daughter, ’a has the better means and opportunity to myself: he lies in his throat, like a villain; he has no opportunity of me for all that; ’tis for his betters to have opportunity of me, and that he shall well know. A base, proud knave! ’a has forgot how he came up and brought two of his countrymen to give their words to my husband for a suit of green kersey; ’a has forgot all this: and how does he appear to me when his white satin suit’s on, but like a maggot crept out of a nutshell—a fair body and a foul neck: those parts that are covered of him look[1008] indifferent well, because we cannot see ’em; else, for all his cleansing, pruning, and paring, he’s not worthy a broker’s daughter; and so tell him.

Moth. G. I will indeed, forsooth.

Tho. And as for my child, I hope she’ll be ruled in time, though she be foolish yet, and not be carried away with a cast of manchets,[1009] a bottle of wine, or a custard:[1010] and so, I pray, certify him.

Moth. G. I’ll do your errand effectually.

Tho. Art thou his aunt,[1011] or his——

Moth. G. Alas, I am a poor drudge of his!

Tho. Faith, and[1012] thou wert his mother, he would make thee his drudge, I warrant him.

Moth. G. Marry, out upon him! sir-reverence[1013] of your mistress-ship.

Tho. Here’s somewhat for thy pains: fare thee well.

[Giving money.

Moth. G. ’Tis more than he gave me since I came to him.

[Exit.
Enter Quomodo and Susan.

Quo. How now? what prating have we here? whispers? dumbshows? Why, Thomasine, go to: my shop is not altogether so dark[1014] as some of my neighbours’, where a man may be made cuckold at one end, while he’s measuring with his yard at t’other.

Tho. Only commendations sent from master Lethe, your worshipful son-in-law that should be.

Quo. O, and that you like not! he that can make us rich in custom, strong in friends, happy in suits; bring us into all the rooms a’ Sundays, from the leads to the cellar; pop us in with venison till we crack again, and send home the rest in an honourable napkin: this man you like not, forsooth.

Sus. But I like him, father.

Quo. My blessing go with thy liking!

Sus. A number of our citizens hold our credit by’t, to come home drunk, and say, we ha’ been at court: then how much more credit is’t to be drunk there indeed!

Quo. Tut, thy mother’s a fool.—Pray, what’s master Rearage, whom you plead for so?

Tho. Why, first, he is a gentleman.

Quo. Ay, he’s often first a gentleman that’s last a beggar.

Sus. My father tells you true: what should I do with a gentleman? I know not which way to lie with him.

Quo. ’Tis true, too. Thou knowest, beside, we undo gentlemen daily.

Tho. That makes so few of ’em marry with our daughters, unless it be one green fool or other. Next, master Rearage has land and living; t’other but his walk i’ th’ street, and his snatching diet: he’s able to entertain you in a fair house of his own; t’other in some nook or corner, or place us behind the cloth,[1015] like a company of puppets: at his house you shall be served curiously, sit down and eat your meat with leisure; there we must be glad to take it standing, and without either salt, cloth, or trencher, and say we are befriended too.

Quo. O, that gives a citizen a better appetite than his garden.

Sus. So say I, father; methinks it does me most good when I take it standing: I know not how all women’s minds are.

Enter Falselight.

Quo. Faith, I think they are all of thy mind for that thing.—How now, Falselight?

Fal. I have descried my fellow Shortyard, alias Blastfield, at hand with the gentleman.

Quo. O my sweet Shortyard!—Daughter, get you up to your virginals.[1016] [Exit Susan.]—By your leave, mistress Quomodo——

Tho. Why, I hope I may sit i’ th’ shop, may I not?

Quo. That you may, and welcome, sweet honey-thigh, but not at this season; there’s a buck to be struck.

Tho. Well, since I’m so expressly forbidden, I’ll watch above i’ th’ gallery, but I’ll see your knavery. [Aside, and exit.

Quo. Be you prepared as I tell you.

Fal. You ne’er feared me. [Retires.[1017]

Quo. O that sweet, neat, comely, proper, delicate, parcel of land! like a fine gentlewoman i’ th’ waist, not so great as pretty, pretty; the trees in summer whistling, the silver waters by the banks harmoniously gliding. I should have been a scholar; an excellent place for a student; fit for my son that lately commenced at Cambridge, whom now I have placed at inns of court. Thus we that seldom get lands honestly, must leave our heirs to inherit our knavery: but, whist; one turn about my shop, and meet with ’em.

Enter Easy and Shortyard.

Easy. Is this it, sir?

Sho. Ay; let me see; this is it; sign of Three Knaves; ’tis it.

Quo. Do you hear, sir? what lack you,[1018] gentlemen? see good kerseys or broadcloths here; I pray come near—master Blastfield!

Sho. I thought you would know me anon.

Enter Thomasine above.

Quo. You’re exceeding welcome to town, sir: your worship must pardon me; ’tis always misty weather in our shops here; we are a nation the sun ne’er shines upon. Came this gentleman with you?

Sho. O, salute him fairly; he’s a kind gentleman, a very inward[1019] of mine.

Quo. Then I cry you mercy, sir; you’re especially welcome.

Easy. I return you thanks, sir.

Quo. But how shall I do for you now, master Blastfield?

Sho. Why, what’s the matter?

Quo. It is my greatest affliction at this instant, I am not able to furnish you.

Sho. How, master Quomodo? pray, say not so; ’slud, you undo me then.

Quo. Upon my religion, master Blastfield, bonds lie forfeit in my hands; I expect the receipt of a thousand every hour, and cannot yet set eye of a penny.

Sho. That’s strange, methinks.

Quo. ’Tis mine own pity that plots against me, master Blastfield; they know I have no conscience to take the forfeiture, and that makes ’em so bold with my mercy.

Easy. I am sorry for this.

Quo. Nevertheless, if I might entreat your delay but the age of three days, to express my sorrow now, I would double the sum, and supply you with four or five hundred.

Sho. Let me see; three days?

Quo. Ay, good sir, and[1020] it may be possible.

Easy. Do you hear, master Blastfield?

Sho. Hah?

Easy. You know I’ve already invited all the gallants to sup with me to-night.

Sho. That’s true, i’faith.

Easy. ’Twill be my everlasting shame if I have no money to maintain my bounty.

Sho. I ne’er thought upon that.—I looked still when that should come from him. [Aside.]—We have strictly examined our expenses; it must not be three days, master Quomodo.

Quo. No? then I’m afraid ’twill be my grief, sir.

Easy. Master Blastfield, I’ll tell you what you may do now.

Sho. What, good sweet bedfellow?[1021]

Easy. Send to master Gum,[1022] or master Profit, the mercer and goldsmith.

Sho. Mass, that was well remembered of thee.—I perceive the trout will be a little troublesome ere he be catched. [Aside.]—Boy.

Enter Boy.

Boy. Here, sir.

Sho. Run to master Gum, or master Profit, and carry my present occasion of money to ’em.

Boy. I run, sir. [Exit.

Quo. Methinks, master Blastfield, you might easily attain to the satisfaction of three days: here’s a gentleman, your friend, I dare say will see you sufficiently possessed till then.

Easy. Not I, sir, by no means: master Blastfield knows I’m further in want than himself: my hope rests all upon him; it stands upon the loss of my credit to-night, if I walk[1023] without money.

Sho. Why, master Quomodo, what a fruitless motion have you put forth! you might well assure yourself this gentleman had it not, if I wanted it: why, our purses are brothers; we desire but equal fortunes: in a word, we’re man and wife; they can but lie together, and so do we.

Easy. As near as can be, i’faith.

Sho. And, to say truth, ’tis more for the continuing of this gentleman’s credit in town, than any incitement from mine own want only, that I covet to be so immediately furnished: you shall hear him confess as much himself.

Easy. ’Tis most certain, master Quomodo.

Re-enter Boy.

ᚩSho. O, here comes the boy now.—How now, boy? what says master Gum or master Profit?

Boy. Sir, they’re both walked forth this frosty morning to Brainford,[1024] to see a nurse-child.

Sho. A bastard be it! spite and shame!

Easy. Nay, never vex yourself, sweet master Blastfield.

Sho. Bewitched, I think.

Quo. Do you hear, sir? you can persuade with him?

Easy. A little, sir.

Quo. Rather than he should be altogether destitute, or be too much a vexation to himself, he shall take up a commodity[1025] of cloth of me, tell him.

Easy. Why, la! by my troth, ’twas kindly spoken.

Quo. Two hundred pounds’ worth, upon my religion, say.

Sho. So disastrously!

Easy. Nay, master Blastfield, you do not hear what master Quomodo said since, like an honest, true citizen, i’faith; rather than you should grow diseased[1026] upon’t, you shall take up a commodity of two hundred pounds’ worth of cloth.

Sho. The mealy moth consume it! would he ha’ me turn pedlar now? what should I do with cloth?

Quo. He’s a very wilful gentleman at this time, i’faith: he knows as well what to do with it as I myself, i-wis.[1027] There’s no merchant in town but will be greedy upon’t, and pay down money upo’ th’ nail; they’ll despatch it over to Middleburgh presently, and raise double commodity by exchange: if not, you know ’tis term-time, and Michaelmas term too, the drapers’ harvest for foot-cloths,[1028] riding-suits, walking-suits, chamber-gowns, and hall-gowns.

Easy. Nay, I’ll say that, it comes in as fit a time as can be.

Quo. Nay, take me with you[1029] again ere you go, sir: I offer him no trash, tell him, but present money, say: where[1030] I know some gentlemen in town ha’ been glad, and are glad at this time, to take up commodities in hawks’ hoods and brown paper.[1031]

Easy. O horrible! are there such fools in town?

Quo. I offer him no trash, tell him; upon my religion, you may say.—Now, my sweet Shortyard; now the hungry fish begins to nibble; one end of the worm is in his mouth, i’faith. [Aside.