Enter Pursenet.
Pur. Sir gallant, well encountered.
Tai. I both salute and take my leave together.
Pur. Why, whither so fast, sir?
Tai. Excuse me, pray; I’m in a little haste;
My horse waits for me.
Pur. What, some journey toward?[584]
Tai. A light one, i’faith, sir.
Pur. I’m[585] sorry that my business so commands me,
I cannot ride with you; but I make no question
You have company enough.
Tai. Alas, not any!—nor do I desire it.—[Aside.
Why, ’tis but to Kingston yonder.
Pur. O, cry you mercy, sir.
Tai. ’Scape but one reach, there’s little danger thither.
Pur. True, a little of Combe Park.[586]
Tai. You’ve nam’d the place, sir; that’s all I fear, i’faith.
Pur. Farewell, sweet master Tailby. [Exit Tail.
This fell out happily;
I’ll call this purchase[587] mine before I greet him;
E’en where his fear lies most, there will I meet him.

SCENE II.[588]

Combe Park.
Enter Pursenet with a scarf over his face, and Boy.

Pur. Boy.

Boy. Sir?

Pur. Walk my horse behind yon thicket; give a word if you descry.

Boy. I have all perfect, sir. [Exit.

Pur. So; he cannot now be long. What with my boy’s dexterity at ordinaries, and my gelding’s celerity over hedge and ditch, but we make pretty shift to rub out a gallant; for I have learnt these principles:

Stoop thou to th’ world, ’twill on thy bosom tread;
It stoops to thee, if thou advance thy head.
The mind being far more excellent than fate,
’Tis fit our mind then be above our state.
Why should I write my extremities in my brow,
To make them loathe me that respect me now?
If every man were in his courses known,
Legs that now honour him might spurn him down.

To conclude, nothing seems as it is but honesty, and that makes it so little regarded amongst us.

Boy [within]. Ela, ha, ho!

Pur. The boy?
He’s hard at hand; I’ll cross him suddenly:
And here he comes.—
Enter Tailby.
Stand!
Tai. Ha!
Pur. Deliver your purse, sir.

Tai. I feared none but this place, i’faith; nay, when my mind gives me a thing once——

Pur. Quick, quick, sir, quick; I must despatch three robberies yet ere night.

Tai. I’m glad you have such good doings, by my troth, sir.

Pur. You’ll fare ne’er[589] a whit the better for your flattery,
I warrant you, sir.

Tai. I speak sincerely; ’tis pity such a proper-parted gentleman should want; nor shall you, as long as I have’t about me. [Pursenet rifles his pockets.] Nay, search and spare not: there’s a purse in my left pocket, as I take it, with fifteen pound in gold in’t, and there’s a fair chain of pearl in the other: nay, I’ll deal truly with you; it grieves me, i’faith, when I see such goodly men in distress; I’ll rather want it myself than they should go without it.

Pur. And that shews a good nature, sir.

Tai. Nay, though I say it, I have been always accounted a man of a good nature; I might have hanged myself ere this time else. Pray, use me like a gentleman; take all, but injury[590] not my body.

Pur. You must pardon me, sir;
I must a little play the usurer,
And bind you, for mine own security.

Tai. Alas, there’s no conscience in that, sir! shall I enter into bond and pay money too?

Pur. Tut, I must not be betrayed.

Tai. Hear me but what I say, sir; I do protest I would not be he that should betray a man, to be prince of the world.

Pur. Mass, that’s the devil,—I thank you heartily,—
For he’s call’d prince a’ th’ world.
Tai. You take me still at worst.
Pur. Swear on this sword, then,
To set spurs to your horse, not to look back,
To give no marks to any passenger.

Tai. Marks?[591] why, I think you have left me ne’er a penny, sir.

Pur. I mean, no marks of any.[592]

Tai. I understand you, sir.

Pur. Swear then.

Tai. I’faith, I do, sir.

Pur. Away!

Tai. I’m gone, sir.—By my troth, of a fierce thief he seems to be a very honest gentleman.

[Exit.
Pur. Why, this was well adventur’d, trim a gallant!
Now, with a covetous[593] and long-thirsting eye,
Let me behold my purchase,[594]
And try the soundness of my bones with laughter.
How? is not this the chain of pearl I gave
To that perjurèd harlot? ’tis, ’sfoot, ’tis,
The very chain!—O damnèd mistress!—Ha!
And this the purse which, not five days before,
I sent her fill’d with fair spur-royals?[595] Heart,
The very gold! ’Slife, is this no robbery?
How many oaths flew toward heaven,
Which ne’er came half-way thither, but, like fire-drakes,[596]
Mounted a little, gave a crack, and fell:
Feign’d oaths bound up to sink more deep to hell.
What folded paper’s this? death, ’tis her hand!

[reads] Master Tailby, you know with what affection I love you. You do? I count the world but as my prey to maintain you. The more dissembling quean you, I must tell you. I have sent you an embroidered purse here with fifty fair spur-royals in’t. A pox on you for your labour, wench! And I desire you of all loves to keep that chain of pearl from master Pursenet’s sight. He cannot, strumpet; I behold it now, unto thy[597] secret torture. So fare thee well, but be constant and want nothing—as long as I ha’t, i’faith! methinks it should have gone so. Well, what a horrible age do we live in, that a man cannot have a quean to himself! let him but turn his back, the best of her is chipt away like a court loaf, that when a man comes himself, has nothing but bumbast; and these are two simple chippings here. Does my boy pick and I steal to enrich myself, to keep her, to maintain him? why, this is right the sequence of the world. A lord maintains her, she maintains a knight, he maintains a whore, she maintains a captain. So in like manner the pocket keeps my boy, he keeps me, I keep her, she keeps him; it runs like quicksilver from one to another. ’Sfoot, I perceive I have been the chief upholder of this gallant all this while: it appears true, we that pay dearest for our pasture[598] are ever likely worse used. ’Sfoot, he has a nag can run for nothing, has his choice, nay, and gets by the running of her.[599] O fine world, strange devils, and pretty damnable affections!

Boy [within]. Lela, ha, ho!

Pur. There, boy, again; what news there?

Re-enter Boy.

Boy. Master, hist,[600] master!

Pur. How now, boy?

Boy. I have descried a prize.

Pur. Another, lad?

Boy. The gull, the scholar.

Pur. Master Bouser?

Boy. Ay; comes along this way.

Pur. Without company?

Boy. As sure as he is your own.

Pur. Back to thy place, boy. [Exit Boy.
I have the luck to-day to rob in safety;
Two precious cowards! Whist; I hear him.—
Enter Fitsgrave.
Stand!
Fit. You lie; I came forth to go.
Pur. Deliver your purse.
Fit. ’Tis better in my pocket.
Pur. How now? at disputations, signior fool?
Fit. I’ve so much logic to confute a knave,
A thief, a rogue!
[Attacks and strikes Pursenet down.

Pur. Hold, hold, sir, and[601] you be a gentleman, hold! let me rise.

Fit. Heart!
’Tis the courtesy of his scarf unmask’d him to me
Above the lip by chance: I’ll counterfeit. [Aside.

Light! because I am a scholar, you think belike that scholars have no metal in ’em, but you shall find,—I have not done with you, cousin.

Pur. As you’re a gentleman!

Fit. As you’re a rogue!

Pur. Keep on upon your way, sir.

Fit. You bade me stand——

Pur. I have been once down for that.

Fit. And then deliver.

Pur. Deliver me from you, sir!—O, pax[602] on’t, has wounded me!—Ela, ha, ho! my horse, my horse, boy! [Exit.

Fit. Have you your boy so ready? O thou world,
How art thou muffled in deceitful forms!
There’s such a mist of these, and still hath been,
The brightness of true gentry is scarce seen.
This journey was most happily assign’d;
I’ve[603] found him dross both in his means and mind.
What paper’s this he dropt? I’ll look on’t as I go.
[Exit.

SCENE III.

Near Combe Park.
Enter Pursenet and Boy.

Pur. A gull call you him? let me always set upon wise men; they’ll be afraid of their lives; they have a feeling of their iniquities, and know[604] what ’tis to die with fighting: ’sfoot, this gull lays on without fear or wit. How deep’s it, sayst thou, boy?

Boy. By my faith, three inches, sir.

Pur. La, this was long of you, you rogue!

Boy. Of me, sir?

Pur. Forgive me, dear boy; my wound ached, and I grew angry: there’s hope of life, boy, is there not?

Boy. Pooh, my life for yours!

Pur. A comfortable boy in man’s extremes! I was ne’er so afraid in my life but the fool would have seen my face: he had me at such advantage, he might have commanded my scarf. I ’scaped well there; ’t’ad choked me; my reputation had been past recovery: yet live I unsuspected, and still fit for gallants’ choice societies. But here I vow, if e’er I see this Bouser when he cannot see me, either in by-lane, privilege[d] place, court, alley, or come behind him when he’s standing,[605]

Or take him when he reels from a tavern late,
Pissing again[606] a conduit, wall, or gate;
When he’s in such a plight, and clear from me[n],
I’ll do that I’m[607] asham’d to speak till then. [Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Street.
Enter Fitsgrave[608] and Gentleman.

Fit. Nay, read forward: I have found three of your gallants, like your bewitching shame,[609] merely sophistical: there’s your bawd-gallant, your pocket-gallant, and your whore-gallant.

Gen. [reads] Master Tailby.

Fit. That’s he.

Gen. [reads] I count the world but as my prey to maintain you.

Fit. That’s just the phrase and style of ’em all to him; they meet altogether in one effect, and it may well hold too, for they all jump upon one cause, subaudi lechery.

Gen. What shapes can flattery take! Let me entreat you,
Both in the virgin’s right and our good hopes,
Since your hours are so fortunate, to proceed.
Fit. Why, he’s base that faints[610] until he crown his deed.
[Exit.

SCENE V.

A Room in Primero’s House.
Enter Pursenet (his arm in a scarf) and Boy, meeting First Courtesan.
Pur. See that dissembling devil, that perjur’d strumpet! [Aside.
First C. Welcome, my soul’s best wish. O, out, alas!
Thy arm bound in a scarf? I shall swoon instantly.
Pur. Heart, and I’ll fetch you again in the same tune.
[Aside.
O my unmatch’d love, if any spark of life remain,
Look up, my comfort, my delight, my——
First C. O good, O good!
Pur. The organ of her voice is tun’d again;
There’s hope in women when their speech returns;
See, like the moon after a black eclipse,
She by degrees recovers her pure light.
How cheers my love?
First C. As one new-wak’d out of a deadly trance,
The fit scarce quiet.
Pur. ’Twas terrible for the time;
I’d much ado to fetch you.
First C. ’Shrew your fingers! [Aside.
How came my comfort wounded? speak.
Pur. Faith, in a fray last night.
First C. In a fray? will you lose your blood so vainly?
Many a poor creature lacks it. Tell me how?
What was the quarrel?
Pur. Loath to tell you that.
First C. Loath to tell me?
Pur. Yet ’twas my cause of coming.
First C. Why, then, must not I know it?
Pur. Since you urge it, you shall,
You’re a strumpet!
First C. O, news abroad, sir!
Pur. Say you so?
First C. Why, you knew that the first night you lay with me.
Pur. Nay, not to me only, but to the world.
First C. Speak within compass, man.
Pur. Faith, you know none, you sail without.
First C. I have the better skill then.
Pur. At my first step into a tavern-room, to spy
That chain of pearl wound on a stranger’s arm
You begg’d of me!
First C. How? you mistook it sure.
Pur. By heaven, the very self-same chain!

First C. O, cry you mercy, ’tis true, I’d forgot it: ’tis St. George’s day to-morrow: I lent it to my cousin only to grace his arm before his mistress.

Pur. Notable cunning!

First C. And is this all now, i’faith?

Pur. Not; I durst go further.

First C. Why, let me never possess your love if you see not that again a’ Thursday morning: I take’t unkindly, i’faith, you should fall out with me for such a trifle.

Pur. Better and better!

First C. Come, a kiss, and friends!

Pur. Away!

First C. By this hand, I’ll spoil your arm and[611] you will not.

Pur. More for this than the devil——

Enter Goldstone, Tailby, Fitsgrave, Bungler, and Courtesans.
Gol. Yea, at your book so hard?[612]
Pur. Against my will.—Are you there, signior Logic?
A pox of you, sir! [Aside.

Gol. Why, how now? what has fate sent us here, in the name of Venus, goddess of Cyprus?

Pur. A freebooter’s pink, sir, three or four inches deep.

Gol. No more? that’s conscionable, i’faith.

Tai. Troth, I’m sorry for’t: pray, how came it, sir?

Pur. Faith, by a paltry fray, in Coleman Street.

Fit. Combe Park he would say. [Aside.

Pur. No less than three at once, sir,
Made a triangle with their swords and daggers,
And all opposing me.

Fit. And amongst those three only one hurt you, sir?

Pur. Ex for ex.[613]

Tai. Troth, and I’ll tell you what luck I had too, since I parted from you last.

Pur. What, I pray?

Tai. The day you offered to ride with me, I wish now I’d had your company: ’sfoot, I was set upon in Combe Park by three too.

Pur. Bah!

Tai. Robbed, by this light, of as much gold and jewels as I valued at forty pound.

Pur. Sure Saturn is in the fifth house.

Tai. I know not that; he may be in the sixth and[614] he will for me: I am sure they were in my pocket wheresoever they are;[615] but I’ll ne’er refuse a gentleman’s company again when ’tis offered me, I warrant you.

Gol. I must remember you ’tis Mitre-night,[616] ladies.

Sec. C. Mass, ’tis indeed Friday to-day, I’d quite forgot: when a woman’s busy, how the time runs away!

First C. O, you’ve betrayed us both!
Tai. I understand you not.
First C. You’ve let him see the chain of pearl I gave you.
Tai. Who? him? will you believe me, by this hand,
He never saw it.
First C. Upon a stranger’s arm he swore to me.
Tai. Mass, that may be; for the truth is, i’faith,
I was robb’d on’t at Combe Park.
First. C. ’Twas that betrayed it.
Tai. I would [I] had stay’d him;
He was no stranger, he was a thief, i’faith,
For thieves will be no strangers.
First C. How shall I excuse it?
Bun. Nay, I have you fast enough, boy; you rogue!
[Seizing the Boy, who had attempted to pick his pocket.

Boy. Good sir, I beseech you, sir, let me go!

[Struggling.[617]

Bun. A pickpocket? nay, you shall to Newgate, look you.—Is this your boy, sir?

Pur. How now, boy? a monster? thy arm lined[618] fast in another’s pocket? where learnt you that manners? what company have you kept a’ late, that you are so transformed into a rogue? that shape I know not.—Believe me, sir, I much wonder at the alteration of this boy, where he should get this nature: as good a child to see to, and as virtuous; he has his creed by heart, reads me his chapter duly every night; he will not miss you one tittle in the nine commandments.

Bun. There’s ten of ’em.
Pur. I fear he skips o’er one, Thou shall not steal.
Bun. Mass, like enough.
Pur. Else grace and memory would quite abash the boy.—
Thou graceless imp! ah, thou prodigious child,
Begot at some eclipse, degenerate rogue,
Shame to thy friends, and to thy master eke!
How far digressing from the noble mind
Of thy brave ancestors, that lie in marble
With their coat-armours o’er ’em!

Bun. Had he such friends?

Pur. The boy is well descended, though he be a rogue, and has no feeling on’t; yet for my sake, and for my reputation’s, seek not the blood of the boy; he’s near allied to many men of worship now yet living; a fine old man to his father; it would kill his heart, i’faith; he’d away like a chrisom.[619]

Bun. Alas, good gentleman!
Pur. Ah, shameless villain, complain’st thou? dost thou want?
Boy. No, no, no, no!
Pur. Art not well clad? thy hunger well resisted?
Boy. Yes, yes, yes, yes!
Pur. But thou shalt straight to Bridewell——
Boy. Sweet master!
Pur. Live upon bread and water and chap-choke.
Boy. I beseech your worship!
Bun. Come, I’ll be his surety for once.
Pur. You shall excuse me indeed, sir.

Bun. He will mend; ’a may prove an honest man for all this. I know gallant gentlemen now that have done as much as this comes to in their youth.

Pur. Say you so, sir?

Bun. And as for Bridewell, that will but make him worse; ’a will learn more knavery there in one week than will furnish him and his heirs for a hundred year.

Pur. Deliver the boy!

Bun. Nay, I tell you true, sir; there’s none goes in there a quean, but she comes out an arrant whore, I warrant you.

Pur. The boy comes not there for a million!

Bun. No, you had better forgive him by ten parts.

Pur. True; but ’a must not know it comes from me.—
Down a’ your knees, you rogue,
And thank this gentleman has got your pardon.
Boy. O, I thank your worship!
Pur. A pox on you for a rogue;
You put me to my set speech once a quarter.
[Aside to him.
Gol. Nay, gentlemen, you quite forget your hour;
Lead, master Bouser.
[Exeunt all but Goldstone and Second Courtesan.

Sec. C. Let me go: you’re a dissembler.

Gol. How?

Sec. C. Did not you promise me a new gown?

Gol. Did I not? yes, faith, did I, and thou shalt have it.—Go, sirrah, [calling to one off the stage] run for a tailor presently. Let me see for the colour now: orange-tawney, peach colour—what sayst to a watchet[620] satin?

Enter Tailor.

Sec. C. O, ’tis the only colour I affect!

Tai. A very orient colour, an’t please your worships. I made a gown on’t for a gentlewoman t’other day, and it does passing well upon her.

Gol. A watchet satin gown——

Tai. There your worship left, sir.

Gol. Laid about, tailor——

Tai. Very good, sir.

Gol. With four fair laces.

Tai. That will be costly, sir.

Gol. How, you rogue, costly? out a’ th’ house, you slipshod, sham-legged, brown-thread-penny-skeined rascal!

Sec. C. Nay, my sweet love—— [Exit Tailor.

Gol. Hang him, rogue! he’s but a botcher neither: come, I’ll send thee a fellow worth a hundred of this, if the slave were clean enough. [Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Before Tailby’s Lodging.
Enter a Servant[621] bringing in a suit of satin, who knocks at Tailby’s door, from which enter Jack.

Jack. Who knocks?

Ser. A Christian: pray, is not this master Tailby’s lodging? I was directed hither.

Jack. Yes, this is my master’s lodging.

Ser. Cry you mercy, sir: is he yet stirring?

Jack. He’s awake, but not yet stirring, for he played away half his clothes last night.

Ser. My mistress commends her secrets unto him, and presents him by me with a new satin suit here.

Jack. Mass, that comes happily.

Ser. And she hopes the fashion will content him.

Jack. There’s no doubt to be had of that, sir: your mistress’ name, I pray? you’re much preciously welcome.

Ser. I thank you uncommonly, sir.

Jack. The suit shall be accepted, I warrant you, sir.

Ser. That’s all my mistress desires, sir.

Jack. Fare you well, sir.

Ser. Fare you well, sir. [Exit.

Jack. This will make my master leap out of the bed for joy, and dance Wigmore’s galliard[622] in his shirt about the chamber![623] [Exit into the house.

SCENE II.