Ric. Now, by this light, he thinks he does’t indeed!

Nay, then, have at your plum-tree![603] faith, I’ll not be foiled.—Though you seem to be careless, madam, as you have enough wherewithal to be, yet I do, must, and will love you.

Fran. Sir, if you begin to be rude, I’ll call my woman.

Ric. What a pestilent quean’s this! I shall have much ado with her, I see that.—Tell me, as you’re a woman, lady, what serve kisses for but to stop all your mouths?

Fran. Hold, hold, Ricardo!

Ric. Disgrace me, widow?

Fran. Art mad? I’m Francisco.

Att. Signor Ricardo, up, up!

Ric. Who is’t? Francisco?

Fran. Francisco, quotha! what, are you mad, sir?

Ric. A bots on thee, thou dost not know what injury thou hast done me; I was i’ th’ fairest dream. This is your way now, and[604] you can follow it.

Fran. ’Tis a strange way, methinks.
Ric. Learn you to play a woman not so scornfully then;
For I am like the actor that you spoke on:
I must have the part that overcomes the lady,
I never like the play else. Now your friendship,
But to assist a subtle trick I ha’ thought on,
And the rich widow’s mine within these three hours.

Att.
Fran. } We should be proud of that, sir.

Ric. List to me then.
I’ll place you two,—I can do’t handsomely,
I know the house so well,—to hear the conference
'Twixt her and I. She’s a most affable one,
Her words will give advantage, and I’ll urge 'em
To the kind proof, to catch her in a contract;
Then shall you both step in as witnesses,
And take her in the snare.
Fran. But do you love her?
And then 'twill prosper.
Ric. By this hand, I do,
Not for her wealth, but for her person too.
Fran. It shall be done then.
Ric. But stay, stay, Francisco;
Where shall we meet with thee some two hours hence, now?
Fran. Why, hark you, sir. [Whispers.
Ric. Enough; command my life:
Get me the widow, I’ll get thee the wife. [Exeunt Ricardo and Attilio.
Fran. O, that’s now with me past hope! yet I must love her:
I would I could not do’t!
Enter Brandino and Martino.
Mar. Yonder’s the villain, master.
Bran. Francisco? I am happy.
Mar. Let’s both draw, master, for there’s nobody with him:
Stay, stay, master,
Do not you draw till I be ready too;
Let’s draw just both together, and keep even.
Bran. What and[605] we kill’d him now, before he saw us?
Mar. No, then he’ll hardly see to read the letter.
Bran. That’s true; good counsel, marry.

Mar. Marry, thus much, sir; you may kill him lawfully all the while he’s a-reading on’t; as an Anabaptist may lie with a brother’s wife all the while he’s asleep.

Bran. He turns, he looks.—Come on, sir; you, Francisco!
I lov’d your father well, but you’re a villain;
He lov’d me well too, but you love my wife, sir:
After whom take you that? I will not say
Your mother play’d false.
Fran. No, sir, you were not best.
Bran. But I will say, in spite of thee, my wife’s honest.
Mar. And I, my mistress.
Fran. You may, I’ll give you leave.
Bran. Leave or leave not, there she defies you, sir.
[Gives the letter.
Keep your adulterous sheet to wind you in,
Or cover your forbidden parts at least,
For fear you want one: many a lecher may,
That sins in cambric now.
Mar. And in lawn too, master.
Bran. Nay, read and tremble, sir.

Mar. Now shall I do’t, master? I see a piece of an open seam in his shirt: shall I run him in there? for my sword has ne’er a point.

Bran. No; let him foam a while.

Mar. If your sword be no better than mine, we shall not kill him by daylight; we had need have a lanthorn.

Bran. Talk not of lanthorns, he’s a sturdy lecher;
He would make the horns fly about my ears.
Fran. I apprehend thee: admirable woman!
Which to love best I know not, thy wit or beauty.
[Aside.
Bran. Now, sir, have you well view’d your bastard there,
Got of your lustful brain? give you joy on’t!
Fran. I thank you, sir: although you speak in jest,
I must confess I sent your wife this letter,
And often courted her, tempted and urg’d her.
Bran. Did you so, sir? then first,
Before I kill thee, I forewarn thee my house.

Mar. And I, before I kill thee, forewarn thee my office: die to-morrow next, thou never get’st warrant of me more, for love or money.

Fran. Remember but again from whence I came, sir,
And then I know you cannot think amiss of me.
Bran. How’s this?

Mar. Pray, hear him; it may grow to a peace: for, master, though we have carried the business nobly, we are not altogether so valiant as we should be.

Bran. Peace? thou say’st true in that.—What is’t you’d say, sir?
Fran. Was not my father—quietness be with him!—
And you sworn brothers?
Bran. Why, right; that’s it urges me.
Fran. And could you have a thought that I could wrong you,
As far as the deed goes?
Bran. You took the course, sir.
Fran. To make you happy, and[606] you rightly weigh’d it.
Mar. Troth, I’ll put up[607] at all adventures, master:
It comes off very fair yet.
Fran. You in years
Married a young maid: what does the world judge, think you?
Mar. Byrlady,[608] master, knavishly enough, I warrant you;
I should do so myself.
Fran. Now, to damp slander,
And all her envious and suspicious brood,
I made this friendly trial of her constancy,
Being son to him you lov’d; that, now confirm’d,
I might advance my sword against the world
In her most fair defence, which joys my spirit.
Mar. O master, let me weep while you embrace him!
Bran. Francisco, is thy father’s soul in thee?
Lives he here still? what, will he shew himself
In his male seed to me? Give me thy hand;
Methinks it feels now like thy father’s to me:
Prithee, forgive me!
Mar. And me too, prithee!
Bran. Come to my house; thy father never miss’d it.
Mar. Fetch now as many warrants as you please, sir,
And welcome too.
Fran. To see how soon man’s goodness
May be abus’d!
Bran. But now I know thy intent,
Welcome to all that I have!
Fran. Sir, I take it:
A gift so given, hang him that would forsake it!
[Exit.

Bran. Martino, I applaud my fortune and thy counsel.

Mar. You never have ill fortune when you follow it. Here were[609] things carried now in the true nature of a quiet duello; a great strife ended, without the rough soldier or the ——.[610] And now you may take your journey.

Bran. Thou art my glee, Martino. [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

A Room in Valeria’s House.
Enter Valeria and Servellio.
Val. Servellio!
Ser. Mistress?
Val. If that fellow come again,
Answer him without me; I’ll not speak with him.
Ser. He in the nutmeg-colour’d band, forsooth?
Val. Ay, that spic’d coxcomb, sir: ne’er may I marry again, [Exit Servellio.
If his right worshipful idolatrous face
Be not most fearfully painted; so hope comfort me,
I might perceive it peel in many places;
And under’s eye lay a betraying foulness,
As maids sweep dust o’ th’ house all to one corner;
It shew’d me enough there, prodigious pride,
That cannot but fall scornfully. I’m a woman;
Yet, I praise heaven, I never had th’ ambition
To go about to mend a better workman:
She ever shames herself i’ th’ end that does it.
He that likes me not now, as heaven made me,
I’ll never hazard hell to do him a pleasure;
Nor lie every night like a woodcock in paste
To please some gaudy goose in the morning:
A wise man likes that best that is itself,
Not that which only seems, though it look fairer.
Heaven send me one that loves me, and I’m happy!
Of whom I’ll make great trial ere I have him,
Though I speak all men fair, and promise sweetly:
I learn that of my suitors; ’tis their own,
Therefore injustice 'twere to keep it from 'em.
Enter Ricardo, followed by Francisco and Attilio who conceal themselves.

Ric. And so as I said, sweet widow——

Val. Do you begin where you left, sir?

Ric. I always desire, when I come to a widow, to begin i’ th’ middle of a sentence; for I presume she has a bad memory of a woman that cannot remember what goes before.

Val. Stay, stay, sir; let me look upon you well;
Are not you painted too?
Ric. How, painted, widow?
Val. Not painted widow; I do not use it, trust me, sir.
Ric. That makes me love thee.
Val. I mean painted gentleman,
Or if you please to give him a greater style, sir:
Blame me not, sir; it’s a dangerous age, I tell you;
Poor simple-dealing women had need look about 'em.
Ric. But is there such a fellow in the world, widow,
As you are pleas’d to talk on?
Val. Nay, here lately, sir.

Ric. Here? a pox, I think I smell him! ’tis vermilion sure; ha, oil of ben![611] Do but shew him me, widow, and let me never hope for comfort, if I do not immediately geld him, and grind his face upon one o’ th’ stones.

Val. Suffices you’ve express’d me your love and valour,
And manly hate 'gainst that unmanly pride:
But, sir, I’ll save you that labour; he ne’er comes
Within my door again.

Ric. I’ll love your door the better while I know’t, widow; a pair of such brothers were fitter for posts[612] without door indeed, to make a shew at a new-chosen magistrate’s gate, than to be used in a woman’s chamber. No, sweet widow, having me, you’ve the truth of a man; all that you see of me is full mine own, and what you see, or not see, shall be yours: I ever hated to be beholding[613] to art, or to borrow any thing but money.

Val. True, and that you never use to pay again.

Ric. What matter is’t? if you be pleased to do’t for me, I hold it as good.

Val. O, soft you, sir, I pray!

Ric. Why, i’faith, you may, and[614] you will.

Val. I know that, sir.

Ric. Troth, and I would have my will then, if I were as you: there’s few women else but have.[615]

Val. But since I cannot have it in all, signor,
I care not to have it in any thing.
Ric. Why, you may have’t in all, and[614] you will, widow.
Val. Pish! I’d have one that loves me for myself, sir,
Not for my wealth; and that I cannot have.
Ric. What say you to him that does the thing you wish for?
Val. Why, here’s my hand, I’ll marry none but him then.
Ric. Your hand and faith?
Val. My hand and faith.
Ric. ’Tis I, then.
Val. I shall be glad on’t, trust me; ’shrew my heart else!
Ric. A match!
[Francisco and Attilio come forward.
Fran. Give you joy, sweet widow!
Att. Joy to you both!
Val. How?
Ric. Nay, there’s no starting now, I have you fast, widow.—
You’re witness, gentlemen.

Fran.
Att. } We’ll be depos’d on’t.

Val. Am I betray’d to this, then? then I see
’Tis for my wealth: a woman’s wealth’s her traitor.
Ric. ’Tis for love chiefly, I protest, sweet widow;
I count wealth but a fiddle to make us merry.
Val. Hence!
Ric. Why, thou’rt mine.
Val. I do renounce it utterly.
Ric. Have I not hand and faith?
Val. Sir, take your course.
Ric. With all my heart; ten courses, and[616] you will, widow.
Val. Sir, sir, I’m not so gamesome as you think me;
I’ll stand you out by law.
Ric. By law? O cruel, merciless woman,
To talk of law, and know I have no money!
Val. I will consume myself to the last stamp,[617]
Before thou gett’st me.
Ric. 'Life, I’ll be as wilful then, too:
I’ll rob all the carriers in Christendom,
But I’ll have thee, and find my lawyers money.
I scorn to get thee under forma pauperis;
I have too proud a heart, and love thee better.
Val. As for you, gentlemen, I’ll take course against you;
You came into my house without my leave;
Your practices are cunning and deceitful;
I know you not, and I hope law will right me.
Ric. It is sufficient that your husband knows 'em:
’Tis not your business to know every man;
An honest wife contents herself with one.
Val. You know what you shall trust to. Pray depart, sir,
And take your rude confederates along with you,
Or I will send for those shall force your absence:
I’m glad I found your purpose out so soon.
How quickly may poor women be undone!

Ric. Lose thee? by this hand, I’ll fee fifteen counsellors first, though I undo a hundred poor men for 'em; and I’ll make 'em yaul one another deaf, but I’ll have thee.

Val. Me?
Ric. Thee.
Val. Ay, fret thy heart out. [Exit Ricardo.
Fran. Were I he now,
I’d see thee starve for man before I had thee.
Val. Pray, counsel him to that, sir, and I’ll pay you well.
Fran. Pay me? pay your next husband.
Val. Do not scorn’t, gallant; a worse woman than I
Has paid a better man than you.
[Exeunt Attilio and Francisco.
Enter two Suitors.
First Suit. Why, how now, sweet widow?
Val. O kind gentlemen, I’m so abus’d here!
Both Suit. Abused? [Drawing their swords.
Val. What will you do, sirs? put up your weapons.

Sec. Suit. Nay, they’re not so easily drawn, that I must tell you; mine has not been out this three years; marry, in your cause, widow, 'twould not be long a-drawing. Abused! by whom, widow?

Val. Nay, by a beggar.

Sec. Suit. A beggar? I’ll have him whipt then, and sent to the House of Correction.

Val. Ricardo, sir.

Sec. Suit. Ricardo? nay, by th’ mass, he’s a gentleman-beggar; he’ll be hanged before he be whipt. Why, you’ll give me leave to clap him up, I hope?

Val. ’Tis too good for him; that’s the thing he’d have,
He would be clapt up, whether I would or no, methinks;
Plac’d two of his companions privately,
Unknown to me, on purpose to entrap me
In my kind answers, and at last stole from me
That which I fear will put me to some trouble,
A kind of verbal courtesy, which his witnesses
And he, forsooth, call by the name of contract.
First Suit. O politic villain!
Val. But I’m resolv’d, gentlemen,
If the whole power of my estate can cast him,
He never shall obtain me.
Sec. Suit. Hold you there, widow;
Well fare your heart for that, i’faith.
First Suit. Stay, stay, stay;
You broke no gold between you?
Val. We broke nothing, sir.
First Suit. Nor drunk to one another?
Val. Not a drop, sir.
First Suit. You’re sure of this you speak?
Val. Most certain, sir.
First Suit. Be of good comfort, wench: I’ll undertake then,
At mine own charge, to overthrow him for thee.
Val. O, do but that, sir, and you bind me to you!
Here shall I try your goodness. I’m but a woman,
And, alas, ignorant in law businesses:
I’ll bear the charge most willingly.
First Suit. Not a penny;
Thy love will reward me.
Val. And where love must be,
It is all but one purse, now I think on’t.
First Suit. All comes to one, sweet widow.
Sec. Suit. Are you so forward? [Aside.
First Suit. I know his mates, Attilio and Francisco;
I’ll get out process, and attach 'em all:
We’ll begin first with them.
Val. I like that strangely.
First Suit. I have a daughter run away, I thank her;
I’ll be a scourge to all youth for her sake:
Some of 'em has got her up.
Val. Your daughter? what, sir, Martia?
First Suit. Ay, a shake wed her!
I would have married her to a wealthy gentleman,
No older than myself; she was like to be shrewdly hurt, widow.
Val. It was too happy for her.
First Suit. I’m of thy mind.
Farewell, sweet widow; I’ll about this straight;
I’ll have 'em all three put into one writ,
And so save charges.
Val. How I love your providence!
[Exit First Suitor.
Sec. Suit. Is my nose bor’d? I’ll cross ye both for this,
Although it cost me as much o’ th’ other side:
I have enough, and I will have my humour.
I may get out of her what may undo her too. [Aside.
Hark you, sweet widow, you must now take heed
You be of a sure ground, he’ll o’erthrow you else.
Val. Marry, fair hope forbid!
Sec. Suit. That will he: marry, le’ me see, le’ me see;
Pray how far past it 'tween you and Ricardo?
Val. Farther, sir,
Than I would now it had; but I hope well yet.
Sec. Suit. Pray let me hear’t; I’ve a shrewd guess o’ th’ law.
Val. Faith, sir, I rashly gave my hand and faith
To marry none but him.
Sec. Suit. Indeed!
Val. Ay, trust me, sir.
Sec. Suit. I’m very glad on’t; I’m another witness,
And he shall have you now.
Val. What said you, sir?
Sec. Suit. He shall not want money in an honest cause, widow;
I know I’ve enough, and I will have my humour.
Val. Are all the world betrayers?
Sec. Suit. Pish, pish, widow!
You’ve borne me in hand[618] this three months, and now fobb’d me:
I’ve known the time when I could please a woman.
I’ll not be laugh’d at now; when I’m crost, I’m a tiger:
I have enough, and I will have my humour.
Val. This only shews your malice to me, sir;
The world knows you ha’ small reason to help him,
So much in your debt already.
Sec. Suit. Therefore I do’t,
I have no way but that to help myself;
Though I lose you, I will not lose all, widow;
He marrying you, as I will follow’t for him,
I’ll make you pay his debts, or lie without him.
Val. I look’d for this from you.
Sec. Suit. I ha’ not deceiv’d you then: [Exit Valeria.
Fret, vex, and chafe, I’m obstinate where I take.
I’ll seek him out, and cheer him up against her:
I ha’ no charge at all, no child of mine own,
But two I got once of a scouring-woman,
And they’re both well provided for, they’re i’ th’ hospital.
I have ten thousand pound to bury me,
And I will have my humour. [Exit.

SCENE II.

A Street.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. A man must have a time to serve his pleasure,
As well as his dear friend: I’m forc’d to steal from 'em,
To get this night of sport for mine own use.
What says her amiable, witty letter here?
[Reads letter.
’Twixt nine and ten,—now ’tis 'twixt six and seven;
As fit as can be; he that follows lechery
Leaves all at six and seven, and so do I, methinks:
Sun sets at eight, it’s 'bove an hour high yet;
Some fifteen mile have I before I reach her,
But I’ve an excellent horse; and a good gallop
Helps man as much as a provoking banquet.
Enter First Suitor and Officers.
First Suit. Here’s one of 'em; begin with him first, officers.
First Off. By virtue of this writ we attach your body, sir.
[Officers seize Francisco.
Fran. My body? 'life, for what?
First Suit. Hold him fast, officers.
First Off. The least of us can do’t, now his sword’s off, sir;
We have a trick of hanging upon gentlemen,
We never lose a man.
Fran. O treacherous fortune!—
Why, what’s the cause?
First Suit. The widow’s business, sir:
I hope you know me?
Fran. For a busy coxcomb,
This fifteen year, I take it.
First Suit. O, you’re mad, sir;
Simple though you make me, I stand for the widow.
Fran. She’s simply stood for then: what’s this to me, sir,
Or she, or you, or any of these flesh-hooks?
First Suit. You’re like to find good bail before you leave us,
Or lie till the suit’s tried.
Fran. O my love’s misery!
First Suit. I’m put in trust to follow’t, and I’ll do’t
With all severity; build upon that, sir.
Enter Ricardo and Attilio.
Fran. How I could[619] curse myself!
Ric. Look, here’s Francisco:
Will you believe me, now you see his qualities?
Att. ’Tis strange to me.
Ric. I tell you ’tis his fashion;
He never stole away in’s life from me,
But still I found him in such scurvy company.—
A pox on thee, Francisco! wilt never leave
Thy old tricks? are these lousy companions for thee?
Fran. Pish, pish, pish!
First Suit. Here they be all three now; 'prehend 'em, officers.
[Officers seize Ricardo and Attilio.
Ri. What’s this?
Fran. I gave you warning enough to make away;
I’m in for the widow’s business, so are you now.

Ric. What, all three in a noose? this is like a widow’s business indeed.

First Suit. Sh’as catch’d you, gentlemen, as you catch’d her.
The widow means now to begin with you, sir.

Ric. I thank her heartily, sh’as taught me wit; for had I been any but an ass, I should ha’ begun with her indeed. By this light, the widow’s a notable housewife! she bestirs herself. I have a greater mind to her now than e’er I had: I cannot go to prison for one I love better, I protest; that’s one good comfort.—

And what are you, I pray, sir, for a coxcomb?[620]
First Suit. It seems you know me by your anger, sir.
Ric. I’ve a near guess at you, sir.
First Suit. Guess what you please, sir,
I’m he ordain’d to trounce you, and, indeed,
I am the man must carry her.
Ric. Ay, to me;
But I’ll swear she’s a beast, and[621] she carry thee.
First Suit. Come, where’s your bail, sir? quickly, or away.
Ric. Sir, I’m held wrongfully; my bail’s taken already.
First Suit. Where is’t, sir, where?

Ric. Here they be both. Pox on you, they were taken before I’d need of 'em. And[621] you be honest officers, let’s bail one another; for, by this hand, I do not know who will else.—