All that her malice and proud will procures
Shall shew her ugly heart, but hurt not yours.

Sir F. Cres. O, I am distracted, and my very soul sends blushes into my cheeks!

Enter George with Maria and Edward.

G. Cres. See here an object to beget more compassion.

Geo. O, sir Francis, we have a most lamentable house at home! nothing to be heard in’t but separation and divorces, and such a noise of the spiritual court, as if it were a tenement upon London Bridge, and built upon the arches.

Sir F. Cres. What’s the matter?

Geo. All about boarding your children: my mistress is departed.

Sir F. Cres. Dead!

Geo. In a sort she is, and laid out too, for she is run away from my master.

Sir F. Cres. Whither?

Geo. Seven miles off, into Essex; she vowed never to leave Barking while she lived, till these were brought home again.

Sir F. Cres. O, they shall not offend her: I am sorry for’t.

Maria.[945] I am glad we are come home, sir; for we lived in the unquietest house!

Edw. The angry woman, methought, grutched[946] us our victuals; our new mother is a good soul, and loves us, and does not frown so like a vixen as she does.

Maria. I am at home now, and in heaven, methinks: what a comfort ’tis to be under your wing!

Edw. Indeed, my mother was wont to call me your nestle-cock, and I love you as well as she did.

Sir F. Cres. You are my pretty souls!

G. Cres. Does not the prattle of these move you?

Re-enter Saunder with Knavesby, and Surveyor.

Saun. Look you, sir, here’s the conveyance and my lady’s solicitor; pray resolve what to do, my lady is coming down.—How now, George? how does thy mistress, that sits in a wainscot-gown,[947] like a citizen’s lure to draw in customers? O, she’s a pretty mouse-trap!

Geo. She’s ill baited though to take a Welshman, she cannot away with[948] cheese.

Sir F. Cres. And what must I do now?

Kna. Acknowledge a fine and recovery of the land; then for possession the course is common.

Sir F. Cres. Carry back the writings, sir; my mind is changed.

Saun. Changed! do not you mean to seal?

Enter Lady Cressingham.

Sir F. Cres. No, sir, the tide’s turned.

Saun. You must temper him like wax, or he’ll not seal.

L. Cres. Are you come back again?—How now, have you done?

Maria. How do you, lady mother?

L. Cres. You are good children.—Bid my woman give them some sweetmeats.

Maria. Indeed, I thank you:—is not this a kind mother?

G. Cres. Poor fools, you know not how dear you shall pay for this sugar!

[Exeunt. George with Maria and Edward.
L. Cres. What, ha’nt you despatched?
Sir F. Cres. No, sweetest, I'm dissuaded by my son
From the sale o' the land.
L. Cres. Dissuaded by your son!
Sir F. Cres. I cannot get his hand to’t.
L. Cres. Where’s our steward?
Cause presently that all my beds and hangings
Be taken down; provide carts, pack them up;
I'll to my house i' the country: have I studied
The way to your preferment and your children’s,
And do you cool i' th' upshot?
G. Cres. With your pardon,
I cannot understand this course a way
To any preferment, rather a direct
Path to our ruin.
L. Cres. O, sir, you’re young-sighted:—
Shew them the project of the land I mean
To buy in Ireland, that shall outvalue yours
Three thousand in a year.

Kna. [shewing map] Look you, sir; here is Clangibbon, a fruitful country, and well wooded.

Sir F. Cres. What’s this? marsh ground?

Kna. No, these are bogs, but a little cost will drain them: this upper part, that runs by the black water, is the Cossack’s land,—a spacious country, and yields excellent profit by the salmon and fishing for herring; here runs the Kernesdale, admirable feed for cattle; and hereabout is St. Patrick’s Purgatory.[949]

G. Cres. Purgatory? shall we purchase that too?
L. Cres. Come, come, will you despatch the other business,
We may go through with this?
Sir F. Cres. My son’s unwilling.
L. Cres. Upon my soul, sir, I'll ne’er bed with you
Till you have seal’d.
Sir F. Cres. Thou hear’st her: on thy blessing
Follow me to the court, and seal.

G. Cres. Sir, were it my death, were’t to the loss of my estate, I vow to obey you in all things; yet with it remember there are two young ones living that may curse you; I pray dispose part of the money on their generous educations.

L. Cres. Fear no[t] you, sir.—The caroach there!—When you have despatched, you shall find me at the scrivener’s, where I shall receive the money.

G. Cres. She’ll devour that mass too.

L. Cres. How likest thou my power over him?

Saun. Excellent.

L. Cres. This is the height of a great lady’s sway,
When her night-service makes her rule i' the day.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.[950]

A hall in Knavesby’s house.
Enter Knavesby.

Kna. Not yet, Sib? my lord keeps thee so long, thou’rt welcome, I see then, and pays sweetly too: a good wench, Sib, thou’rt, to obey thy husband. She’s come: a hundred mark[951] a-year, how fine and easy it comes into mine arms now!—

Enter Mistress Knavesby.

Welcome home! what says my lord, Sib?

Mis. Kna. My lord says you are a cuckold!

Kna. Ha, ha, ha, ha! I thank him for that bob, i’faith; I'll afford it him again at the same price a month hence, and let the commodity grow as scarce as it will. Cuckold, says his lordship? ha, ha! I shall burst my sides with laughing, that’s the worst; name not a hundred [a]-year, for then I burst.[952] It smarts not so much as a fillip on the forehead by five parts: what has his dalliance taken from thy lips? ’tis as sweet as e’er’twas; let me try else; buss me, sugar-candy.

Mis. Kna. Forbear! you presume to a lord’s pleasure!

Kna. How’s that? not I, Sib.

Mis. Kna. Never touch me more;
I'll keep the noble stamp upon my lip,
No under baseness shall deface it now:
You taught me the way,
Now I am in, I'll keep it; I have kiss’d
Ambition, and I love it; I loathe the memory
Of every touch my lip hath tasted from thee.
Kna. Nay, but, sweet Sib, you do forget yourself.
Mis. Kna. I will forget all that I ever was,
And nourish new:[953] sirrah, I am a lady.
Kna. Lord bless us, madam!
Mis. Kna. I've enjoy’d a lord,
That’s real possession, and daily shall,
The which all ladies have not with their lords.

Kna. But, with your patience, madam, who was it that preferred you to this ladyship?

Mis. Kna. ’Tis all I am beholding[954] to thee for;
Thou’st brought me out of ignorance into light:
Simple as I was, I thought thee a man,
[Un]till I found the difference by a man;
Thou art a beast, a hornèd beast, an ox!
Kna. Are these ladies' terms?
Mis. Kna. For thy pander’s fee,
It shall be laid under the candlestick;
Look for’t, I'll leave it for thee.
Kna. A little lower,
Good your ladyship, my cousin Camlet
Is in the house; let these things go no further.

Mis. Kna. ’Tis for mine own credit if I forbear, not thine, thou bugle-browed[955] beast thou!

Enter George with rolls of paper in his hand.

Geo. Bidden, bidden, bidden, bidden: so, all these are past, but here’s as large a walk to come: if I do not get it up at the feast, I shall be leaner for bidding the guests, I'm sure.

Kna. How now? who’s this?

Geo. [reads] Doctor Glister et—what word’s this? fuxor—O, uxor—the doctor and his wife—Master Body et uxor of Bow Lane, Master Knavesby et uxor.

Kna. Ha! we are in, whatsoever the matter is.

Geo. Here’s forty couple more in this quarter; but there, the provision bringing in, that puzzles me most. [Reads] One ox,—that will hardly serve for beef too;—five muttons, ten lambs,—poor innocents, they’ll be devoured too!—three gross of capons——

Kna. Mercy upon us! what a slaughter-house is here!

Geo. [reads] Two bushels of small birds, plovers, snipes, woodcocks, partridge[s], larks;—then for baked meats——

Kna. George, George, what feast is this? ’tis not for St. George’s day?

Geo. Cry you mercy, sir; you and your wife are in my roll: my master invites you his guests to-morrow dinner.

Kna. Dinner, say’st thou? he means to feast a month sure.

Geo. Nay, sir, you make up but a hundred couple.

Kna. Why, what ship has brought an India home to him, that he’s so bountiful? or what friend dead—unknown to us—has so much left to him of arable land, that he means to turn to pasture thus?

Geo. Nay,’tis a vessel, sir; a good estate comes all in one bottom to him, and ’tis a question whether ever he find the bottom or no; a thousand a-year, that’s the uppermost.

Kna. A thousand a-year!

Geo. To go no further about the bush, sir, now the bird is caught, my master is to-morrow to be married, and, amongst the rest, invites you a guest at his wedding-dinner the second.

Kna. Married!

Geo. There is no other remedy for flesh and blood, that will have leave to play, whether we will or no, or wander into forbidden pastures.

Kna. Married! why, he is married, man; his wife is in my house now; thy mistress is alive, George.

Geo. She that was, it may be, sir, but dead to him; she played a little too rough with him, and he has discarded her; he’s divorced, sir.

Kna. He divorced! then is her labour saved, for she was labouring a divorce from him.

Geo. They are well parted then, sir.

Kna. But wilt thou not speak with her? i’faith, invite her to’t.

Geo. ’Tis not in my commission, I dare not. Fare you well, sir; I have much business in hand, and the time is short.

Kna. Nay, but, George, I prithee, stay; may I report this to her for a certain truth?

Geo. Wherefore am I employed in this invitation, sir?

Kna. Prithee, what is she his second choice?

Geo. Truly, a goodly presence, likely to bear great children, and great store; she never saw five-and-thirty summers together in her life by her appearance, and comes in her French hood; by my fecks, a great match ’tis like to be: I am sorry for my old mistress, but cannot help it. Pray you, excuse me now, sir; for all the business goes through my hands, none employed but myself. [Exit.

Kna. Why, here is news that no man will believe but he that sees.

Mis. Kna. This and your cuckoldry will be digestion throughout the city-dinners and suppers for a month together; there will need no cheese.

Kna. No more of that, Sib: I'll call my cousin Camlet, and make her partaker of this sport.

Enter Mistress Water-Camlet.

She’s come already.—Cousin, take’t at once, you’re a free woman; your late husband’s to be married to-morrow.

Mis. W.-Cam. Married! to whom?

Kna. To a French hood, byrlakins,[956] as I understand; great cheer prepared, and great guests invited; so far I know.

Mis. W.-Cam. What a cursed wretch was I to pare my nails to-day! a Friday too; I looked for some mischief.

Kna. Why, I did think this had accorded with your best liking; you sought for him what he has sought for you, a separation, and by divorce too.[957]

Mis. W.-Cam. I'll divorce ’em! is he to be married to a French hood? I'll dress it the English fashion: ne’er a coach to be had with six horses to strike fire i' the streets as we go?

Kna. Will you go home then?

Mis. W.-Cam. Good cousin, help me to whet one of my knives, while I sharp the other;[958] give me a sour apple to set my teeth a’n edge; I would give five pound for the paring of my nails again! have you e’er a bird-spit i' the house? I'll dress one dish to the wedding.

Kna. This violence hurts yourself the most.

Mis. W.-Cam. I care not who I hurt: O my heart, how it beats a' both sides! Will you run with me for a wager into Lombard Street now?

Kna. I'll walk with you, cousin, a sufficient pace; Sib shall come softly after; I'll bring you thorough Bearbinder Lane.

Mis. W.-Cam. Bearbinder Lane cannot hold me, I'll the nearest way over St. Mildred’s church: if I meet any French hoods by the way, I'll make black patches enow for the rheum.

[Exeunt. Mistress Water-Camlet and
Knavesby.
Mis. Kna. So, ’tis to my wish. Master Knavesby,
Help to make peace abroad, here you’ll find wars;
I'll have a divorce too, with locks and bars. [Exit.

SCENE III.

A room in Water-Camlet’s house.
Enter George and Margarita.

Geo. Madam, but stay here a little, my master comes instantly; I heard him say he did owe you a good turn, and now’s the time to take it; I'll warrant you a sound reward ere you go.

Mar. Ey tank u de bon cœur, monsieur.

Enter Water-Camlet.

Geo. Look, he’s here already.—Now would a skilful navigator take in his sails, for sure there is a storm towards.[959] [Aside, and exit.

W.-Cam. O madam, I perceive in your countenance—
I am beholding[960] to you—all is peace?

Mar. All quiet, goor frendsheep; ey mooch a do, ey strive wid him; give goor worda for you, no more speak a de matra; all es undonne, u no more trobla.

Enter behind Mistress Water-Camlet and Knavesby.
W.-Cam. Look, there’s the price of a fair pair of gloves,
And wear ’em for my sake. [Gives money.

Mis. W.-Cam. O, O, O! my heart’s broke out of my ribs!

Kna. Nay, a little patience.

Mar. By tank u artely; shall no bestow en gloves, shall put moosh more to dees, an bestow your shop: regarde dees stofa, my petticote, u no soosh anodre; shall deal wid u for moosh; take in your hand.

W.-Cam. I see it, mistress, ’tis good stuff indeed, It is a silk rash; I can pattern it.

Mis. W.-Cam. Shall he take up her coats before my face? O beastly creature! [Coming forward] French hood, French hood, I will make your hair grow thorough![961]

W.-Cam. My wife return’d!—O, welcome home, sweet Rachel!

Mis. W.-Cam. I forbid the banes,[962] lecher!—and, strumpet, thou shalt bear children without noses!

Mar. O, pardonnez-moi; by my trat, ey mean u no hurta: wat u meant by dees?

Mis. W.-Cam. I will have thine eyes out, and thy bastards shall be as blind as puppies!

W.-Cam. Sweet Rachel!—Good cousin, help to pacify.

Mis. W.-Cam. I forbid the banes, adulterer!

W.-Cam. What means she by that, sir?

Kna. Good cousin, forbid your rage awhile; unless you hear, by what sense will you receive satisfaction? [Restraining her.

Mis. W.-Cam. By my hands and my teeth, sir; give me leave! will you bind me whiles mine enemy kills me?

W.-Cam. Here all are your friends, sweet wife.

Mis. W.-Cam. Wilt have two wives? do, and be[963] hanged, fornicator! I forbid the banes: give me the French hood, I'll tread it under feet in a pair of pantofles.[964]

Mar. Begar, shall save hood, head, and all; shall come no more heer, ey warran u. [Exit.

Kna. Sir, the truth is, report spoke it for truth
You were to-morrow to be marrièd.
Mis. W.-Cam. I forbid the banes!
W.-Cam. Mercy deliver me!
If my grave embrace me in the bed of death,
I would to church with willing ceremony;
But for my wedlock-fellow, here she is,
The first and last that e’er my thoughts look’d on.
Kna. Why, la, you, cousin, this was nought but error,
Or an assault of mischief.

W.-Cam. Whose report was it?

Kna. Your man George’s, who invited me to the wedding.

W.-Cam. George! and was he sober? good sir, call him.

Enter George.

Geo. It needs not, sir, I am here already.

W.-Cam. Did you report this, George?

Geo. Yes, sir, I did.

W.-Cam. And wherefore did you so?

Geo. For a new suit that you promised me, sir, if I could bring home my mistress; and I think she’s come, with a mischief.

Mis. W.-Cam. Give me that villain’s ears!

Geo. I would give ear, if I could hear you talk wisely.

Mis. W.-Cam. Let me cut off his ears!

Geo. I shall hear worse of you hereafter then; limb for limb, one of my ears for one of your tongues, and I'll lay out for my master.

W.-Cam.’Twas knavery with a good purpose in it:
Sweet Rachel, this was even George’s meaning,
A second marriage ’twixt thyself and me;
And now I woo thee to’t; a quiet night
Will make the sun, like a fresh bridegroom, rise
And kiss the chaste cheek of the rosy morn;
Which we will imitate, and, like him, create
Fresh buds of love, fresh-spreading arms, fresh fruit,
Fresh wedding-robes, and George’s fresh new suit.
Mis. W.-Cam. This is fine stuff; have you much on’t to sell?
Geo. A remnant of a yard.
W.-Cam. Come, come, all’s well.—
Sir, you must sup, instead of to-morrow’s dinner.
Kna. I follow you. [Exeunt all except Knavesby.]—No, ’tis another way;
My lord’s reward calls me to better cheer,
Many good meals, a hundred marks a-year:
My wife’s transform’d a lady; tush, she’ll come
To her shape again: my lord rides the circuit;
If I ride along with him, what need I grutch?[965]
I can as easy sit, and speed as much. [Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A street.

Enter Franklin senior in mourning, George Cressingham, and Franklin junior disguised as an old Serving-man.

G. Cres. Sir, your son’s death, which has apparell’d you
In this darker wearing, is a loss wherein
I've ample share; he was my friend.
Frank. sen. He was my nearest
And dearest[966] enemy; and the perpetual
Fear of a worse end, had he continuèd
His former dissolute course[s], makes me weigh
His death the lighter.
G. Cres. Yet, sir, with your pardon,
If you value him every way as he deserv’d,
It will appear your scanting of his means,
And the lord Beaufort’s most unlordly breach
Of promise to him, made him fall upon
Some courses, to which his nature and mine own—
Made desperate likewise by the cruelty of
A mother-in-law—would else have been as strange
As insolent greatness is to distress’d virtue.
Frank. sen. Yes, I have heard of that too; your defeat[967]
Made upon a mercer; I style’t modestly,
The law intends it plain cozenage.
G. Cres. ’Twas no less;
But my penitence and restitution may
Come fairly off from’t: it was no impeachment
To the glory won at Agincourt’s great battle,
That the achiever of it in his youth
Had been a purse-taker; this with all reverence
To the great example. Now to my business,
Wherein you’ve made such noble trial of
Your worth, that in a world so dull as this,
Where faith is almost grown to be a miracle,
I've found a friend so worthy as yourself,
To purchase all the land my father sold
At the persuasion of a riotous woman,
And charitable, to reserve it for his use
And the good of his three children; this, I say,
Is such a deed shall style you our preserver,
And owe the memory of your worth, and pay it
To all posterity.
Frank. sen. Sir, what I've done
Looks to the end of the good deed itself,
No other way i' the world.
G. Cres. But would you please,
Out of a friendly reprehension,
To make him sensible of the weighty wrong
He has done his children? yet I would not have’t
Too bitter, for he undergoes already
Such torment in a woman’s naughty pride,
Too harsh reproof would kill him.
Frank. sen. Leave you that
To my discretion: I have made myself
My son’s executor, and am come up
On purpose to collect his creditors;
And where I find his pennyworth conscionable,
I'll make them in part satisfaction.
Enter George.

O, this fellow was born near me, and his trading here i' the city may bring me to the knowledge of the men my son ought[968] money to.

Geo. Your worship’s welcome to London; and I pray, how do[969] all our good friends i' the country?

Frank. sen. They are well, George: how thou art shot up since I saw thee! what, I think thou art almost out of thy time?

Geo. I am out of my wits, sir; I have lived in a kind of bedlam these four years; how can I be mine own man then?

Frank. sen. Why, what’s the matter?

Geo. I may turn soap-boiler, I have a loose body: I am turned away from my master.

Frank. sen. How! turned away?

Geo. I am gone, sir, not in drink, and yet you may behold my indentures [shewing indenture]. O the wicked wit of woman! for the good turn I did bringing her home, she ne’er left sucking my master’s breath, like a cat, kissing him, I mean, till I was turned away.

Frank. sen. I have heard she’s a terrible woman.

Geo. Yes, and the miserablest! her sparing in housekeeping has cost him somewhat—the Dagger-pies[970] can testify: she has stood in’s light most miserably, like your fasting days before red letters in the almanac; saying the pinching of our bellies would be a mean to make him wear scarlet the sooner. She had once persuaded him to have bought spectacles for all his servants, that they might have worn ’em dinner and supper.

Frank. sen. To what purpose?

Geo. Marry, to have made our victuals seem bigger than ’t was: she shews from whence she came, that my wind-colic can witness.

Frank. sen. Why, whence came she?

Geo. Marry, from a courtier, and an officer too, that was up and down I know not how often.

Frank. sen. Had he any great place?

Geo. Yes, and a very high one, but he got little by it; he was one that blew the organ in the court chapel; our Puritans,[971] especially your Puritans in Scotland, could ne’er away with[972] him.

Frank. sen. Is she one of the sect?

Geo. Faith, I think not, for I am certain she denies her husband the supremacy.

Frank. sen. Well, George, your difference may be reconciled. I am now to use your help in a business that concerns me; here’s a note of men’s names here i' the city unto whom my son ought[973] money, but I do not know their dwelling.

Geo. [taking note from Frank. sen.] Let me see, sir: [reads] Fifty pound ta’en up at use of Master Waterthin the brewer.

Frank. sen. What’s he?

Geo. An obstinate fellow, and one that denied payment of the groats till he lay by the heels for’t; I know him: [reads] Item, fourscore pair of provant breeches,[974] a' the new fashion, to Pinchbuttock, a hosier in Birchen Lane, so much.

Frank. sen. What the devil did he with so many pair of breeches?

Frank. jun. Supply a captain, sir; a friend of his went over to the Palatinate.

Geo. [reads] Item, to my tailor, master Weatherwise, by St. Clement’s church.

G. Cres. Who should that be? it may be ’tis the new prophet, the astrological tailor.

Frank. jun. No, no, no, sir, we have nothing to do with him.

Geo. Well, I'll read no further; leave the note to my discretion, do not fear but I'll inquire them all.

Frank. sen. Why, I thank thee, George.[975]—Sir, rest assured I shall in all your business be faithful to you, and at better leisure find time to imprint deeply in your father the wrong he has done you.

G. Cres. You are worthy in all things.—