[Exeunt Dapper and Gull.

Cur. [Moll holding him] I know you well enough; you’re but a whore to hang upon any man!

Moll. Whores, then, are like sergeants; so now hang you.—Draw, rogue, but strike not: for a broken pate they’ll keep their beds, and recover twenty marks[1068] damages.

Cur. You shall pay for this rescue.—Run down Shoe Lane and meet him.

Trap. Shu! is this a rescue, gentlemen, or no?

Moll. Rescue? a pox on ’em! Trapdoor, let’s away;
[Exeunt Curtleax and Hanger.’s
I’m glad I’ve done perfect one good work to-day.
If any gentleman be in scrivener’s bands,
Send but for Moll, she’ll bail him by these hands.
[Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in Sir Alex. Wengrave’s House.
Enter Sir Alex. Wengrave.
S. Alex. Unhappy in the follies of a son,
Led against judgment, sense, obedience,
And all the powers of nobleness and wit!
Enter Trapdoor.
O wretched father!—Now, Trapdoor, will she come?
Trap. In man’s apparel, sir; I’m in her heart now,
And share in all her secrets.
S. Alex. Peace, peace, peace!
Here, take my German watch,[1069] hang’t up in sight,
That I may see her hang in English for’t.

Trap. I warrant you for that now, next sessions rids her, sir. This watch will bring her in better than a hundred constables. [Hangs up the watch.

S. Alex. Good Trapdoor, sayst thou so? thou cheer’st my heart
After a storm of sorrow. My gold chain too;
Here, take a hundred marks[1070] in yellow links.
Trap. That will do well to bring the watch to light, sir;
And worth a thousand of your headborough’s lanterns.
S. Alex. Place that a’ the court-cupboard;[1071] let it lie
Full in the view of her thief-whorish eye.
Trap. She cannot miss it, sir; I see’t so plain,
That I could steal’t myself.
[Places the chain.
S. Alex. Perhaps thou shalt too,
That or something as weighty: what she leaves
Thou shalt come closely in and filch away,
And all the weight upon her back I’ll lay.
Trap. You cannot assure that, sir.
S. Alex. No? what lets[1072] it?
Trap. Being a stout girl, perhaps she’ll desire pressing;
Then all the weight must lie upon her belly.
S. Alex. Belly or back I care not, so I’ve one.
Trap. You’re of my mind for that, sir.
S. Alex. Hang up my ruff-band with the diamond at it;
It may be she’ll like that best.

Trap. It’s well for her, that she must have her choice; he thinks nothing too good for her. [Aside.]—If you hold on this mind a little longer, it shall be the first work I do to turn thief myself; [’t]would do a man good to be hanged when he is so well provided for.

[Hangs up the ruff-band.
S. Alex. So, well said; all hangs well: would she hung so too!
The sight would please me more than all their glisterings.
O that my mysteries[1073] to such straits should run,
That I must rob myself to bless my son! [Exeunt.
Enter Sebastian Wengrave, Mary Fitzallard disguised as a Page, and Moll in her male dress.
Seb. Thou’st done me a kind office, without touch
Either of sin or shame; our loves are honest.

Moll. I’d scorn to make such shift to bring you together else.

Seb. Now have I time and opportunity
Without all fear to bid thee welcome, love!
[Kisses Mary.
Mary. Never with more desire and harder venture!
Moll. How strange this shews, one man to kiss another!
Seb. I’d kiss such men to choose, Moll;
Methinks a woman’s lip tastes well in a doublet.
Moll. Many an old madam has the better fortune then,
Whose breaths grew stale before the fashion came:
If that will help ’em, as you think ’twill do,
They’ll learn in time to pluck on the hose[1074] too.
Seb. The older they wax, Moll, troth I speak seriously,
As some have a conceit their drink tastes better
In an outlandish cup than in our own,
So methinks every kiss she gives me now
In this strange form is worth a pair of two.two.
Here we are safe, and furthest from the eye
Of all suspicion; this is my father’s chamber,
Upon which floor he never steps till night:
Here he mistrusts me not, nor I his coming;
At mine own chamber he still pries unto me,
My freedom is not there at mine own finding,
Still check’d and curb’d; here he shall miss his purpose.
Moll. And what’s your business, now you have your mind, sir?
At your great suit I promis’d you to come:
I pitied her for name’s sake, that a Moll
Should be so crost in love, when there’s so many
That owe[1075] nine lays[1076] a-piece, and not so little.
My tailor fitted her; how like you his work?
Seb. So well, no art can mend it, for this purpose:
But to thy wit and help we’re chief in debt,
And must live still beholding.[1077]
Moll. Any honest pity
I’m willing to bestow upon poor ring-doves.
Seb. I’ll offer no worse play.
Moll. Nay, and[1078] you should, sir,
I should draw first, and prove the quicker man.
Seb. Hold, there shall need no weapon at this meeting;
But ’cause thou shalt not loose thy fury idle,
Here take this viol, run upon the guts,
And end thy quarrel singing.
[Takes down, and gives her, a viol.
Moll. Like a swan above bridge;[1079]
For look you here’s the bridge, and here am I.
Seb. Hold on, sweet Moll!
Mary. I’ve heard her much commended, sir, for one
That was ne’er taught.
Moll. I’m much beholding to ’em.
Well, since you’ll needs put us together, sir,
I’ll play my part as well as I can: it shall ne’er
Be said I came into a gentleman’s chamber,
And let his instrument hang by the walls.

Seb. Why, well said, Moll, i’faith; it had been a shame for that gentleman then that would have let it hung still, and ne’er offered thee it.

Moll. There it should have been still then for Moll;
For though the world judge impudently of me,
I never came into that chamber yet
Where I took down the instrument myself.

Seb. Pish, let ’em prate abroad; thou’rt here where thou art known and loved; there be a thousand close dames that will call the viol[1080] an unmannerly instrument for a woman, and therefore talk broadly of thee, when you shall have them sit wider to a worse quality.

Moll. Push,[1081]
I ever fall asleep and think not of ’em, sir;
And thus I dream.
Seb. Prithee, let’s hear thy dream, Moll.
Moll [sings].
I dream there is a mistress,
And she lays out the money;
She goes unto her sisters,
She never comes at any.
Re-enter Sir Alexander behind.
She says she went to th’ Burse[1082] for patterns;
You shall find her at Saint Kathern’s,
And comes home with never a penny.
Seb. That’s a free mistress, faith!
S. Alex. Ay, ay, ay,
Like her that sings it; one of thine own choosing.
[Aside.

Moll. But shall I dream again?

[Sings.] Here comes a wench will brave ye;
Her courage was so great,
She lay with one o’ the navy,
Her husband lying i’ the Fleet.
Yet oft with him she cavell’d;[1083]
I wonder what she ails:
Her husband’s ship lay gravell’d,
When her’s could hoise up sails:
Yet she began, like all my foes,
To call whore first; for so do those—
A pox of all false tails!
Seb. Marry, amen, say I!
S. Alex. So say I too. [Aside.
Moll. Hang up the viol now, sir: all this while
I was in a dream; one shall lie rudely then;
But being awake, I keep my legs together.
A watch? what’s a’ clock here?

S. Alex. Now, now she’s trapt! [Aside.

Moll. Between[1084] one and two; nay, then I care not. A watch and a musician are cousin-germans in one thing, they must both keep time well, or there’s no goodness in ’em; the one else deserves to be dashed against a wall, and t’other to have his brains knocked out with a fiddle-case.

What! a loose chain and a dangling diamond?
Here were a brave booty for an evening thief now:
There’s many a younger brother would be glad
To look twice in at a window for’t,
And wriggle in and out, like an eel in a sand-bag.
O, if men’s secret youthful faults should judge ’em,
’Twould be the general’st execution
That e’er was seen in England!
There would be but few left to sing the ballads,
There would be so much work: most of our brokers
Would be chosen for hangmen; a good day for them;
They might renew their wardrobes of free cost then.
Seb. This is the roaring wench must do us good.
Mary. No poison, sir, but serves us for some use;
Which is confirm’d in her.
Seb. Peace, peace—
’Foot, I did hear him sure, where’er he be.
Moll. Who did you hear?
Seb. My father;
’Twas like a sigh[1085] of his: I must be wary.
S. Alex. No? wilt not be? am I alone so wretched
That nothing takes? I’ll put him to his plunge[1086] for’t.
[Aside.
Seb. Life! here he comes.—Sir, I beseech you take it;
Your way of teaching does so much content me,
I’ll make it four pound; here’s forty shillings, sir—
I think I name it right—help me, good Moll—
Forty in hand. [Offering money.
Moll. Sir, you shall pardon me:
I’ve more of the meanest scholar I can teach;
This pays me more than you have offer’d yet.
Seb. At the next quarter,
When I receive the means my father ’lows me,
You shall have t’other forty.
S. Alex. This were well now,
Were’t to a man whose sorrows had blind eyes;
But mine behold his follies and untruths
With two clear glasses. [Aside—then coming forward.]
How now?
Seb. Sir?
S. Alex. What’s he there?
Seb. You’re come in good time, sir; I’ve a suit to you;
I’d crave your present kindness.
S. Alex. What’s he there?

Seb. A gentleman, a musician, sir; one of excellent fingering.

S. Alex. Ay, I think so;—I wonder how they ’scap’d her. [Aside.

Seb. Has the most delicate stroke, sir.

S. Alex. A stroke indeed!—I feel it at my heart.

[Aside.

Seb. Puts down all your famous musicians.

S. Alex. Ay,—a whore may put down a hundred of ’em.

[Aside.
Seb. Forty shillings is the agreement, sir, between us:
Now, sir, my present means mounts but to half on’t.
S. Alex. And he stands upon the whole?
Seb. Ay, indeed does he, sir.
S. Alex. And will do still; he’ll ne’er be in other tale.
Seb. Therefore I’d stop his mouth, sir, and[1087] I could.
S. Alex. Hum, true; there is no other way indeed;—
His folly hardens, shame must needs succeed.—
[Aside.
Now, sir, I understand you profess music.
Moll. I’m a poor servant to that liberal science, sir.
S. Alex. Where is’t you teach?
Moll. Right against Clifford’s Inn.
S. Alex. Hum, that’s a fit place for’t: you’ve many scholars?
Moll. And some of worth, whom I may call my masters.
S. Alex. Ay, true, a company of whoremasters.
[Aside.
You teach to sing too?
Moll. Marry, do I, sir.
S. Alex. I think you’ll find an apt scholar of my son,
Especially for prick-song.
Moll. I’ve much hope of him.
S. Alex. I’m sorry for’t, I have the less for that.
[Aside.
You can play any lesson?
Moll. At first sight, sir.
S. Alex. There’s a thing call’d the Witch; can you play that?
Moll. I would be sorry any one should mend me in’t.
S. Alex. Ay, I believe thee; thou’st so bewitch’d my son,
No care will mend the work that thou hast done.
I have bethought myself, since my art fails,
I’ll make her policy the art to trap her.
Here are four angels[1088] mark’d with holes in them
Fit for his crack’d companions: gold he’ll give her;
These will I make induction to her ruin,
And rid shame from my house, grief from my heart.
[Aside.
Here, son, in what you take content and pleasure,
Want shall not curb you; pay the gentleman
His latter half in gold. [Gives money.
Seb. I thank you, sir.
S. Alex. O may the operation on’t end three;
In her, life, shame in him, and grief in me!
[Aside, and exit.
Seb. Faith, thou shalt have ’em; ’tis my father’s gift:
Never was man beguil’d with better shift.
Moll. He that can take me for a male musician,
I can’t choose but make him my instrument,
And play upon him. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Before Gallipot’s Shop.
Enter Mistress Gallipot and Mistress Openwork.

Mis. G. Is, then, that bird of yours, master Goshawk, so wild?

Mis. O. A Goshawk? a puttock;[1089] all for prey: he angles for fish, but he loves flesh better.

Mis. G. Is’t possible his smooth face should have wrinkles in’t, and we not see them?

Mis. O. Possible? why, have not many handsome legs in silk stockings villanous splay feet, for all their great roses?[1090]

Mis. G. Troth, sirrah,[1091] thou sayst true.

Mis. O. Didst never see an archer, as thou’st walked by Bunhill, look a-squint when he drew his bow?

Mis. G. Yes, when his arrows have fline[1092] toward Islington, his eyes have shot clean contrary towards Pimlico.

Mis. O. For all the world so does master Goshawk double with me.

Mis. G. O, fie upon him! if he double once, he’s not for me.

Mis. O. Because Goshawk goes in a shag-ruff band, with a face sticking up in’t which shews like an agate set in a cramp ring,[1093] he thinks I’m in love with him.

Mis. G. ’Las, I think he takes his mark amiss in thee!

Mis. O. He has, by often beating into me, made me believe that my husband kept a whore.

Mis. G. Very good.

Mis. O. Swore to me that my husband this very morning went in a boat, with a tilt over it, to the Three Pigeons[1094] at Brainford, and his punk with him under his tilt.

Mis. G. That were wholesome.

Mis. O. I believed it; fell a-swearing at him, cursing of harlots; made me ready to hoise up sail and be there as soon as he.

Mis. G. So, so.

Mis. O. And for that voyage Goshawk comes hither incontinently:[1095] but, sirrah, this water-spaniel dives after no duck but me; his hope is having me at Brainford, to make me cry quack.

Mis. G. Art sure of it?

Mis. O. Sure of it? my poor innocent Openwork came in as I was poking my ruff:[1096] presently hit I him i’ the teeth with the Three Pigeons; he forswore all, I up and opened all; and now stands he in a shop hard by, like a musket on a rest,[1097] to hit Goshawk i’ the eye, when he comes to fetch me to the boat.

Mis. G. Such another lame gelding offered to carry me through thick and thin,—Laxton, sirrah,—but I am rid of him now.

Mis. O. Happy is the woman can be rid of ’em all! ’las, what are your whisking gallants to our husbands, weigh ’em rightly, man for man?

Mis. G. Troth, mere shallow things.

Mis. O. Idle, simple things, running heads; and yet let ’em run over us never so fast, we shopkeepers, when all’s done, are sure to have ’em in our pursenets[1098] at length; and when they are in, lord, what simple animals they are! then they hang the head——

Mis. G. Then they droop——

Mis. O. Then they write letters——

Mis. G. Then they cog[1099]——

Mis. O. Then deal they underhand with us, and we must ingle[1100] with our husbands a-bed; and we must swear they are our cousins, and able to do us a pleasure at court.

Mis. G. And yet, when we have done our best, all’s but put into a riven dish;[1101] we are but frumped[1102] at and libelled upon.

Mis. O. O, if it were the good Lord’s will there were a law made, no citizen should trust any of ’em all!

Enter Goshawk.

Mis. G. Hush, sirrah! Goshawk flutters.

Gos. How now? are you ready?

Mis. O. Nay, are you ready? a little thing, you see, makes us ready.

Gos. Us? why, must she make one i’ the voyage?

Mis. O. O, by any means! do I know how my husband will handle me?

Gos. ’Foot, how shall I find water to keep these two mills going? [Aside.]—Well, since you’ll needs be clapped under hatches, if I sail not with you both till all split,[1103] hang me up at the mainyard and duck me.—It’s but liquoring them both soundly, and then you shall see their cork-heels fly up high, like two swans when their tails are above water, and their long necks under water diving to catch gudgeons. [Aside.]—Come, come, oars stand ready; the tide’s with us; on with those false faces; blow winds, and thou shalt take thy husband casting out his net to catch fresh salmon at Brainford.[1104]

Mis. G. I believe you’ll eat of a cod’s head of your own dressing before you reach half way thither.

[Aside—She and Mistress O. mask themselves.

Gos. So, so, follow close; pin as you go.

Enter Laxton muffled.

Lax. Do you hear?

Mis. G. Yes, I thank my ears.

Lax. I must have a bout with your ’pothecaryship.

Mis. G. At what weapon?

Lax. I must speak with you.

Mis. G. No.

Lax. No? you shall.

Mis. G. Shall? away, souced sturgeon! half fish, half flesh.

Lax. Faith, gib,[1105] are you spitting? I’ll cut your tail, puss-cat, for this.

Mis. G. ’Las, poor Laxton, I think thy tail’s cut already! your worst.

Lax. If I do not—— [Exit.

Gos. Come, ha’ you done?
Enter Openwork.
’S foot, Rosamond, your husband!
Open. How now? sweet master Goshawk! none more welcome;
I’ve wanted your embracements: when friends meet,
The music of the spheres sounds not more sweet
Than does their conference. Who’s this? Rosamond?
Wife? how now, sister?
Gos. Silence, if you love me!
Open. Why mask’d?
Mis. O. Does a mask grieve you, sir?
Open. It does.
Mis. O. Then you’re best get you a mumming.[1106]
Gos. ’Sfoot, you’ll spoil all!
Mis. G. May not we cover our bare faces with masks,
As well as you cover your bald heads with hats?
Open. No masks; why they’re thieves to beauty, that rob eyes
Of admiration in which true love lies.
Why are masks worn? why good? or why desir’d?
Unless by their gay covers wits are fir’d
To read the vildest[1107] looks: many bad faces,
Because rich gems are treasur’d up in cases,
Pass by their privilege current; but as caves
Damn misers’ gold, so masks are beauties’ graves.
Men ne’er meet women with such muffled eyes,
But they curse her that first did masks devise,
And swear it was some beldam. Come, off with’t.
Mis. O. I will not.
Open. Good faces mask’d are jewels kept by sprites;[1108]
Hide none but bad ones, for they poison men’s sights;
Shew, then, as shopkeepers do their broider’d stuff,
By owl-light; fine wares can’t be open enough.
Prithee, sweet Rose, come, strike this sail.
Mis. O. Sail?
Open. Ha!
Yes, wife, strike sail, for storms are in thine eyes.
Mis. O. They’re here, sir, in my brows, if any rise.
Open. Ha, brows?—What says she, friend? pray, tell me why
Your two flags[1109] were advanc’d; the comedy,
Come, what’s the comedy?
Mis. G.[1110] Westward ho.[1111]
Open. How?
Mis. O. ’Tis Westward ho, she says.
Gos. Are you both mad?
Mis. O. Is’t market-day at Brainford, and your ware
Not sent up yet?
Open. What market-day? what ware?
Mis. O. A pie with three pigeons in’t: ’tis drawn,
And stays your cutting up.
Gos. As you regard my credit——
Open. Art mad?
Mis. O. Yes, lecherous goat, baboon!
Open. Baboon? then toss me in a blanket.
Mis. O. Do I it well?
Mis. G. Rarely.
Gos. Belike, sir, she’s not well; best leave her.
Open. No;
I’ll stand the storm now, how fierce soe’er it blow.
Mis. O. Did I for this lose all my friends, refuse
Rich hopes and golden fortunes, to be made
A stale[1112] to a common whore?
Open. This does amaze me.
Mis. O. O God, O God! feed at reversion now?
A strumpet’s leaving?
Open. Rosamond!
Gos. I sweat; would I lay in Cold Harbour![1113]