Enter Second Suitor.

'Ods light, is he come too? I’m in for midnight then; I shall never find the way out again: my debts, my debts! I’m like to die i’ th’ Hole[622] now.

First Suit. We have him fast, old signor, and his consorts;
Now you may lay action on action on him.
Sec. Suit. That may I, sir, i’faith.
First Suit. And I’d not spare him, sir.
Sec. Suit. Know you me, officers?
First Off. Your bounteous worship, sir.

Ric. I know the rascal so well, I dare not look upon him.

Sec. Suit. Upon my worth, deliver me that gentleman.
Fran. Which gentleman?
Sec. Suit. Not you, sir, you’re too hasty;
No, nor you neither, sir, pray, stay your time.

Ric. There’s all but I now, and I dare not think he means me.

Sec. Suit. Deliver me Ricardo.
Ric. O, sure he lies,
Or else I do not hear well.
First Off. Signor Ricardo——
Ric. Well, what’s the matter?
First Off. You may go; who lets you?[623]
It is his worship’s pleasure, sir, to bail you.
Ric. Bail me?
Sec. Suit. Ay will I, sir. Look in my face, man;
Thou’st a good cause; thou’lt pay me when thou’rt able?
Ric. Ay, every penny, as I’m a gentleman.
Sec. Suit. No matter if thou dost not, then I’ll make thee,
And that’s as good at all times.
First Suit. But, I pray, sir,—
You go against the hair there.[624]
Sec. Suit. Against the widow you mean, sir;
Why, ’tis my purpose truly, and 'gainst you too:
I saw your politic combination;
I was thrust out between you. Here stands one
Shall do as much for you, and he stands rightest,
His cause is strong and fair; nor shall he want
Money, or means, or friends, but he shall have her:
I have enough, and I will have my humour.
First Suit. Hang thee! I have a purse as good as thine.
Ric. I think they’re much alike, they’re rich knaves both.—
[Aside.
Heart, and[625] I take you railing at my patron, sir,
I’ll cramp your joints!
Sec. Suit. Let him alone, sweet honey;
I thank thee for thy love though.
Ric. This is wonderful!
Fran. O Ricardo,
’Tis seven struck in my pocket! I lose time now.
Ric. What say’st, Francisco?
Fran. I ha’ mighty business,
That I ne’er thought on; get me bail’d, I’m spoilt else.
Ric. Why, you know, ’tis such a strange miraculous courtesy,
I dare not be too forward to ask more of him,
For fear he repent this, and turn me in again.
Fran. Do somewhat, and[625] you love me!
Ric. I’ll make trial, faith.—
May’t please you, sir,—'life, if I should spoil all now!
Sec. Suit. What say’st, Ricardo?
Ric. Only a thing by th’ way, sir;
Use your own pleasure.
Sec. Suit. That I like well from thee.
Ric. 'Twere good, and[625] those two gentlemen were bail’d too;
They’re both my witnesses.
Sec. Suit. They’re well, they’re well:
And[625] they were bail’d, we know not where to find 'em.
Let 'em go to prison; they’ll be forthcoming the better:
I have enough, and I will have my humour.
Ric. I knew there was no more good to be done upon him:
’Tis well I’ve this; heaven knows I never look’d for’t.
Fran. What plaguy luck had I to be ensnar’d thus!
First Off. O, patience!
Fran. Pox o’ your comfortable ignorance!
Enter Brandino and Martino.
Bran. Martino, we ride slow.
Mar. But we ride sure, sir;
Your hasty riders often come short home, master.
Bran. Bless this fair company!
Fran. Here he’s again too;
I am both sham’d and cross’d.
Bran. Seest thou who’s yonder, Martino?
Mar. We ride slow, I’ll be sworn now, master.
Bran. How now, Francisco, art thou got before me?
Fran. Yes, thank my fortune, I am got before you.
Bran. What, no, in hold?
Ric. Ay, o’ my troth, poor gentleman!
Your worship, sir, may do a good deed to bail him.
Bran. Why do not you do’t then?
Mar. La, you, sir, now, my master has that honesty,
He’s loath to take a good deed from you, sir.
Ric. I’ll tell you why, I cannot, else I would, sir.
Fran. Luck, I beseech thee!
If he should be wrought to bail me now, to go to
His wife, 'twere happiness beyond expression. [Aside.
Bran. A matter but of controversy?
Ric. That’s all, trust me, sir.
Bran. Francisco shall ne’er lie for’t; he’s my friend,
And I will bail him.
Mar. He’s your secret friend, master;
Think upon that.
Bran. Give him his liberty, officers;
Upon my peril, he shall be forthcoming.
Fran. How I am bound to you!
First Suit. Know you whom you cross, sir?
’Tis at your sister’s suit; be well advis’d, sir.
Bran. How, at my sister’s suit? take him again then.
Fran. Why, sir, do you refuse me?
Bran. I’ll not hear thee.
Ric. This is unkindly done, sir.
First Suit. ’Tis wisely done, sir.
Sec. Suit. Well shot, foul malice!
First Suit. Flattery stinks worse, sir.
Ric. You’ll ne’er leave till I make you stink as bad, sir.
Fran. O Martino, have I this for my late kindness?
Mar. Alas, poor gentleman, dost complain to me?
Thou shalt not fare the worse for’t.—Hark you, master,
Your sister’s suit, said you?
Bran. Ay, sir, my wife’s sister.
Mar. And shall that daunt you, master? think again:
Why, were’t your mother’s suit,—your mother’s suit,
Mark what I say,—the dearest suit of all suits,
You’re bound in conscience, sir, to bail this gentleman.
Bran. Yea, am I so? how prov’st thou that, Martino?
Mar. Have you forgot so soon what he did lately?
Has he not tried your wife to your hand, master,
To cut the throat of slander and suspicion?
And can you do too much for such a man?
Shall it be said, I serve an ingrateful master?
Bran. Never, Martino; I will bail him now,
And[626] 'twere at my wife’s suit.
Fran. ’Tis like to be so. [Aside.
Mar. And I his friend, to follow your example, master.
Fran. Precious Martino!
First Suit. You’ve done wondrous well, sir;
Your sister shall give you thanks.
Ric. This makes him mad, sir.
Sec. Suit. We’ll follow’t now to th’ proof.
First Suit. Follow your humour out;
The widow shall find friends.
Sec. Suit. And so shall he, sir,
Money and means.
Ric. Hear you me that, old huddle!
Sec. Suit. Mind him not; follow me, and I’ll supply thee;
[Exeunt First Suitor and Officers.
Thou shalt give all thy lawyers double fees:
I’ve buried money enough to bury me,
And I will have my humour.
[Exit with Ricardo and Attilio.
Bran. Fare thee well once again, my dear Francisco;
I prithee, use my house.
Fran. It is my purpose, sir.
Bran. Nay, you must do’t then; though I’m old, I’m free.
[Exit.
Mar. And when you want a warrant, come to me.
[Exit.
Fran. That will be shortly now, within this few hours.
This fell out strangely happy. Now to horse;
I shall be nighted: but an hour or two
Never breaks square in love; he comes in time
That comes at all; absence is all love’s crime.
[Exit.

ACT III. SCENE I.

The Country.
Enter Occulto, Silvio, Stratio, Fiducio, and other Thieves.
Occ. Come, come, let’s watch th’ event on yonder hill;
If he need help, we can relieve him suddenly.
Sil. Ay, and with safety too, the hill being watch’d, sir.
Occ. Have you the blue coats[627] and the beards?
Sil. They’re here, sir.
Occ. Come, come away, then; a fine cock-shoot[628] evening.
[Exeunt.
Enter Latrocinio, and Martia disguised as a man.
Lat. [sings] Kuck before, and kuck behind, &c.
Martia. Troth, you’re the merriest and delightfull’st company, sir,
That ever traveller was blest withal;
I praise my fortune that I overtook you, sir.
Lat. Pish, I’ve a hundred of 'em.
Martia. And believe me, sir,
I’m infinitely taken with such things.
Lat. I see there’s music in you; you kept time, methought,
Pretty and handsomely with your little hand there.
Martia. It only shews desire, but, troth, no skill, sir.
Lat. Well, while our horses walk down yonder hill, sir,
I’ll have another for you.
Martia. It rids way pleasantly.
Lat. Le’ me see now—one confounds another, sir—
You’ve heard this certainly, Come, my dainty doxies?
Martia. O, that is all the country over, sir!
There’s scarce a gentlewoman but has that prick’d.
Lat. Well, here comes one I’m sure you never heard, then.
[Sings.
I keep my horse, I keep my whore,
I take no rents, yet am not poor;
I traverse all the land about,
And yet was born to never a foot;
With partridge plump, with woodcock fine,
I do at midnight often dine;
And if my whore be not in case,
My hostess’ daughter has her place:
The maids sit up and watch their turns;
If I stay long, the tapster mourns;
The cookmaid has no mind to sin,
Though tempted by the chamberlin:[629]
But when I knock, O how they bustle!
The ostler yawns, the geldings justle;
If maid but sleep, O how they curse her!
And all this comes of, Deliver your purse, sir!
Martia. How, sir?
Lat. Few words: quickly, come, deliver your purse, sir!
Martia. You’re not that kind of gentleman, I hope, sir,
To sing me out of my money?
Lat. ’Tis most fit
Art should be rewarded: you must pay your music, sir,
Where’er you come.
Martia. But not at your own carving.
Lat. Nor am I common in’t: come, come, your purse, sir!
Martia. Say it should prove th’ undoing of a gentleman?

Lat. Why, sir, do you look for more conscience in us than in usurers? young gentleman, you’ve small reason for that, i’faith.

Martia. There ’tis, and all I have [gives purse]; and, so truth comfort me,
All I know where to have!
Lat. Sir, that’s not written
In my belief yet; search—’tis a fine evening,
Your horse can take no harm—I must have more, sir.
Martia. May my hopes perish, if you have not all, sir!
And more, I know, than your compassionate charity
Would keep from me, if you but felt my wants.
Lat. Search, and that speedily: if I take you in hand,
You’ll find me rough; methinks men should be rul’d,
When they’re so kindly spoke to: fie upon’t!
Martia. Good fortune and my wit assist me then!
A thing I took in haste, and never thought on’t.
[Aside.
Look, sir, I’ve search’d; here’s all that I can find,
[Presents a pistol.
And you’re so covetous, you’ll have all, you say,
And I’m content you shall, being kindly spoke to.
Lat. A pox o’ that young devil of a handful long,
That has fray’d many a tall thief from a rich purchase![630]
Martia. This and my money, sir, keep[631] company;
Where one goes, th’ other must; assure your soul
They vow’d never to part.
Lat. Hold, I beseech you, sir!
Martia. You rob a prisoner’s box, and[632] you rob me, sir.
Lat. There ’tis again. [Returns purse.
Martia. I knew 'twould never prosper with you;
Fie, rob a younger brother? O, take heed, sir!
’Tis against nature that: perhaps your father
Was one, sir, or your uncle; it should seem so,
By the small means was left you, and less manners.
Go, keep you still before me; and, do you hear me?
To pass away the time to the next town,
I charge you, sir, sing all your songs for nothing.
Lat. O horrible punishment! [A song.[633]
Re-enter Stratio, disguised as a servant.
Stra. Honest gentleman——
Martia. How now, what art thou?
Stra. Stand you in need of help?
I made all haste I could, my master charg’d me,
A knight of worship; he saw you first assaulted
From top of yonder hill.
Martia. Thanks, honest friend.
Lat. I taste this trick already. [Aside, and exit.
Stra. Look, he’s gone, sir;
Shall he be stopt? what is he?
Martia. Let him go, sir;
He can rejoice in nothing, that’s the comfort.
Stra. You have your purse still then?
Martia. Ay, thanks fair fortune
And this grim handful!
Stra. We were all so 'fraid o’ you;
How my good lady cried, O help the gentleman!
’Tis a good woman that. But you’re too mild, sir;
You should ha’ mark’d him for a villain, faith,
Before h’ad gone, having so sound a means too.
Martia. Why, there’s the jest, man; he had once my purse.
Stra. O villain! would you let him ’scape unmassacred?
Martia. Nay, hear me, sir, I made him yield it straight again,
And, so hope bless me, with an uncharg’d pistol.
Stra. Troth, I should laugh at that.
Martia. It was discharg’d, sir,
Before I meddled with’t.
Stra. I’m glad to hear’t. [Seizes her.
Martia. Why, how now? what’s your will?
Stra. Ho, Latrocinio,
Occulto, Silvio!
Re-enter Latrocinio, Occulto, Silvio, Fiducio, and other Thieves.
Lat. What, are you caught, sir?
Stra. The pistol cannot speak.
Lat. He was too young,
I ever thought he could not; yet I fear’d him.
Martia. You’ve found out ways too merciless to betray,
Under the veil of friendship and of charity.
Lat. Away, sirs, bear him in to th’ next copse, and strip him.
Stra. Brandino’s copse, the justice?

Lat. Best of all, sir, a man of law; a spider lies unsuspected in the corner of a buckram-bag, man.

Martia. What seek you, sirs? take all, and use no cruelty.
Lat. You shall have songs enough.
Song by Latrocinio and the other Thieves.
How round the world goes, and every thing that’s in it!
The tides of gold and silver ebb and flow in a minute:
From the usurer to his sons there[’s] a current swiftly runs;
From the sons to queans in chief, from the gallant to the thief;
From the thief unto his host, from the host to husbandmen;
From the country to the court; and so it comes to us agen.[634]
How round the world goes, and every thing that’s in it!
The tides of gold and silver ebb and flow in a minute. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Before Brandino’s House.
Enter Philippa and Violetta above, at a window.
Phil. What time of night is’t?
Vio. Time of night do you call’t?
It is so late, ’tis almost early, mistress.
Phil. Fie on him! there’s no looking for him then;
Why, sure this gentleman apprehends me not.
Vio. ’Tis happy then you’re rid of such a fool, mistress.
Phil. Nay, sure, wench, if he find me not out in this,
Which were a beaten path to any wise man,
I’ll never trust him with my reputation;
Therefore I made this trial of his wit:
If he cannot conceive what’s good for himself,
He will worse understand what’s good for me.
Vio. But suppose, mistress, as it may be likely,
He never saw your letter?
Phil. How thou pliest me
With suppositions! why, I tell thee, wench,
’Tis equally as impossible for my husband
To keep it from him as to be young again,
Or as his first wife knew him, which he brags on,
For bearing children by him.
Vio. There’s no remedy then;
I must conclude Francisco is an ass.
Phil. I would my letter, wench, were here again!
I’d know him wiser ere I sent him one,
And travel some five year first.
Vio. So h’ad need, methinks,
To understand the words; methinks the words
Themselves should make him do’t, had he but the perceiverance[635]
Of a cock-sparrow, that will come at Philip,[636]
And can nor write nor read, poor fool! this coxcomb
He can do both, and your name’s but Philippa;
And yet to see, if he can come when’s call’d!
Phil. He never shall be call’d again for me, sirrah.[637]
Well, as hard as the world goes, we’ll have a song, wench,
We’ll not sit up for nothing.
Vio. That’s poor comfort though.
Phil. Better than any’s brought, for aught I see yet:
So set to your lute. [They sing.
Phil. If in this question I propound to thee
Be any, any choice,
Let me have thy voice.
Vio. You shall most free.
Phil. Which hadst thou rather be,
If thou might choose thy life,
A fool’s, a fool’s mistress,
Or an old man’s wife?
Vio. The choice is hard, I know not which is best;
One ill you’re bound to, and I think that’s least.
Phil. But being not bound, my dearest sweet,
I could shake off the other.
Vio. Then as you lose your sport by one,
You lose your name by t’other.
Phil. You counsel well, but love refuses
What good counsel often chooses.
[Exeunt above.
Enter Martia in a shirt.
Martia. I ha’ got myself unbound yet; merciless villains,
I never felt such hardness since life dwelt in me;
’Tis for my sins. That light in yonder window,
That was my only comfort in the woods,
Which oft the trembling of a leaf would lose me,
Has brought me thus far; yet I cannot hope
For succour in this plight, the world’s so pitiless,
And every one will fear or doubt me now:
To knock will be too bold; I’ll to the gate,
And listen if I can hear any stirring.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. Was ever man so cross’d? no, ’tis but sweat, sure,
Or the dew dropping from the leaves above me;
I thought 't had bled again. These wenching businesses
Are strange unlucky things and fatal fooleries;
No mar’l[638] so many gallants die ere thirty;
’Tis able to vex out a man’s heart in five year,
The crosses that belong to’t: first, arrested,
That set me back two mangy hours at least;
Yet that’s a thing my heat could have forgiven,
Because arresting, in what kind soever,
Is a most gentleman-like affliction;
But here, within a mile o’ th’ town, forsooth,
And two mile off this place, when a man’s oath
Might ha’ been taken for his own security,
And his thoughts brisk and set upon the business,
To light upon a roguy flight of thieves!
Pox on 'em, here’s the length of one of their whittles:[639]
But one of my dear rascals I pursu’d so,
The gaol has him, and he shall bring out ’s fellows.
Had ever young man’s love such crooked fortune?
I’m glad I’m so near yet; the surgeon bade me too
Have a great care; I shall ne’er think of that now.
Martia. One of the thieves come back again? I’ll stand close;
He dares not wrong me now, so near the house,
And call in vain ’tis, till I see him offer’t.
Fran. 'Life, what should that be? a prodigious[640] thing
Stands just as I should enter, in that shape too
Which always appears terrible.
Whate’er it be, it is made strong against me
By my ill purpose; for ’tis man’s own sin
That puts on armour upon all his evils,
And gives them strength to strike him. Were it less
Than what it is, my guilt would make it serve:
A wicked man’s own shadow has distracted him.
Were this a business now to save an honour,
As ’tis to spoil one, I would pass this then,
Stuck all hell’s horrors i’ thee: now I dare not.
Why may’t not be the spirit of my father,
That lov’d this man so well, whom I make haste
Now to abuse? and I’ve been cross’d about it
Most fearfully hitherto, if I well think on’t;
Scap’d death but lately too, nay, most miraculously.
And what does fond[641] man venture all these ills for,
That may so sweetly rest in honest peace?
For that which being obtain’d, is as he was
To his own sense, but remov’d nearer still
To death eternal. What delight has man
Now at this present for his pleasant sin
Of yesterday’s committing? 'las, ’tis vanish’d,
And nothing but the sting remains within him!
The kind man bail’d me too; I will not do’t now,
And[642] 'twere but only that. How blest were man,
Might he but have his end appear still to him,
That he might read his actions i’ th’ event!
'Twould make him write true, though he never meant.
Whose check soe’er thou art, father’s, or friend’s,
Or enemy’s, I thank thee; peace requite thee!
Light, and the lighter mistress, both farewell!
He keeps his promise best that breaks with hell.
[Exit.
Martia. He’s gone to call the rest, and makes all speed;
I’ll knock, whate’er befalls, to please my fears,
For no compassion can be less than theirs.
[Knocks at the door.
Re-enter Philippa and Violetta above.
Phil. He’s come, he’s come!—O, are you come at last, sir?
Make little noise.—Away, he’ll knock again else.
[Exit above with Violetta.
Martia. I should have been at Istria, by daybreak too;
Near to Valeria’s house, the wealthy widow’s,
There waits one purposely to do me good.
What will become of me?
Enter Violetta.
Vio. O, you are a sweet gallant! this your hour?
Give me your hand; come, come, sir, follow me,
I’ll bring you to light presently: softly, softly, sir.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room in Brandino’s House.
Enter Philippa.
Phil. I should ha’ given him up to all my thoughts
The dullest young man, if he had not found it;
So short of apprehension and so worthless,
He were not fit for woman’s fellowship;
I’ve been at cost too for a banquet for him:
Why, 'twould ha’ kill’d my heart, and most especially
To think that man should ha’ no more conceit;[643]
I should ha’ thought the worse on’s wit for ever,
And blam’d mine own for too much forwardness.