Chapter X: Prologue (1)

Home-bred mirth our Muse doth sing;
The satyr's tooth and waspish sting,
Which most do hurt, when least suspected,
By this play are not affected.
But if conceit with quick-turn'd scenes,
Observing all those ancient streams,
Which from the Horse-foot fount do flow,[320]
As time, place, person: and to show
Things never done with that true life,
That thoughts and wits should stand at strife.
Whether the things now shown be true,
Or whether we ourselves now do
The tilings we but present: if these,
Free from the loathsome stage disease,
(So overworn, so tir'd and stale,
Not satirising but to rail)
May win your favours, and inherit
But calm acceptance for his merit:
He vows by Paper, Pen, and Ink,
And by the learned Sisters' drink,
To spend his time, his lamps, his oil,
And never cease his brain to toil,
Till from the silent hours of night
He doth produce for your delight
Conceits so new, so harmless free,
That Puritans themselves may see
A play, yet not in public preach,
That players such lewd doctrine teach,
That their pure joints do quake and tremble,
When they do see a man resemble
The picture of a villain: this,
As he a friend to Muses is,
To you by me he gives his word;
Is all his play doth now afford.

FOOTNOTES:

[320] [Hippocrene.]

RAM-ALLEY[321]; OR, MERRY TRICKS.

ACTUS I, SCÆNA 1.

_Enter_ CONSTANTIA _sola, with a letter in her hand_.

CON. In this disguise, ere scarce my mourning robes
Could have a general note, I have forsook
My shape, my mother, and those rich demesnes,
Of which I am sole heir; and now resolve
In this disguise of page to follow him,
Whose love first caus'd me to assume this shape.
Lord, how my feminine blood stirs at the sight
Of these same breeches! methinks this codpiece[322]
Should betray me: well, I will try the worst.
Hither they say he usually doth come,
Whom I so much affect: what makes he here?
In the skirts of Holborn, so near the field,
And at a garden-house? he has some punk
Upon my life! No more: here he comes.

_Enter_ BOUTCHER.

God save you, sir: your name, unless I err,
Is Master Thomas Boutcher.

BOUT. 'Tis, sweet boy.

CON. I have a letter for you.

[CONSTANTIA _delivers the letter; he reads it_.

BOUT. From whom is't?

CON. The inside, sir, will tell you; I shall see
What love he bears me now. [_Aside._

BOUT. Th' art welcome, boy.
How does the fair Constantia Sommerfield,
Thy[323] noble mistress?

CON. I left her in health.

BOUT. She gives thee here good words; and for her sake
Thou shalt not want a master: be mine for ever.

CON. I thank you, sir. Now shall I see the punk.

[_He knocks._

_Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS.

W. SMALL. Who knocks so fast? I thought 'twas you; what news?

BOUT. You know my business well; I sing one song.

W. SMALL. 'Sfoot, what would you have me do? my land is gone,
My credit of less trust than courtiers' words
To men of judgment; and for my debts
I might deserve a knighthood:[324] what's to be done?
The knight my father will not once vouchsafe
To call me son: that little land he gave,
Throat the lawyer swallowed at one gob
For less than half the worth; and for the city
There be so many rascals and tall yeomen,
Would hang upon me for their maintenance,
Should I but peep or step within the gates,
That I am forc'd, only to ease my charge,
To live here in the suburbs; or in the town
To walk _in tenebris_. I tell you, sir,
Your best retired life is an honest punk
In a thatch'd house with garlic: tell not me:
My punk's my punk, and noble lechery
Sticks by a man when all his friends forsake him.

BOUT. The pox, it will: art thou so senseless grown,
So much endeared to thy bestial lust,
That thy original worth should lie extinct
And buried in thy shame? Far be such thoughts
From spirits free and noble! Begin to live:
Know thyself, and whence thou art deriv'd.
I know that competent state thy father gave
Cannot be yet consum'd.

W. SMALL. 'Tis gone, by heaven!
Not a denier is left.

BOUT. 'Tis impossible.

W. SMALL. Impossible! s'heart! I have had two suckers
Able to spend the wealthy Croesus' store.

_Enter_ FRANCES.

BOUT. What are they?

W. SMALL. Why, a lawyer and a whore:
See, here comes one. Dost think this petticoat,
A perfum'd smock, and twice a week a bath,
Can be maintain'd with half a year's revenues?
No, by heaven! we annual younger brothers
Must go to't by wholesale; by wholesale, man,[325]
These creatures are maintained: her very face
Has cost a hundred pounds.

FRAN. Sir, thank yourself. [_Coming forward._

CON. They keep this whore betwixt them. [_Aside._

FRAN. You know, sir,
I did enjoy a quiet country life,
Spotless and free, till you corrupted me,
And brought me to the court. I never knew
What sleeking, glazing, or what pressing meant:
Till you preferr'd me to your aunt the lady.
I knew no ivory teeth, no caps of hair,
No Mercury water, fucus[326] or perfumes,
To help a lady's breath, until your aunt
Learnt me the common trick.

W. SMALL. The common trick,
Say you? a pox upon such common tricks!
They will undo us all.

BOUT. And knowing this,
Art thou so wilful-blind still to persist
In ruin and defame?

W. SMALL. What should I do?
I've pass'd my word to keep this gentlewoman,
Till I can place her to her own content.
And what is a gentleman but his word?

BOUT. Why, let her go to service.

W. SMALL. To service!
Why, so she does; she is my laundress,[327]
And by this light, no puisne Inn-a-Court
But keeps a laundress at his command
To do him service; and shall not I, ha?

FRAN. Sir, you are his friend (I love him too);
Propound a course which may advantage him,
And you shall find such real worth in me,
That rather than I'll live his hindrance,
I will assume the most penurious state
The city yields, to give me means of life.

W. SMALL. Why, there's it: you hear her what she says;
Would not he be damn'd that should forsake her?
Says she not well? can you propound a course,
To get my forfeit land from yonder rogue:
Parcel-lawyer, parcel-devil, all knave,
Throat, Throat?

BOUT. Not I.

W. SMALL. Why, so: I thought as much;
You are like our citizens to men in need,
Which cry, 'tis pity a proper gentleman
Should want money; yet not an usuring slave
Will lend him a denier to help his wants.
Will you lend me forty shillings?

BOUT. I will.

W. SMALL. Why, God-a-mercy, there's some goodness in thee:
You'll not repent?

BOUT. I will not.

W. SMALL. With that money
I will redeem my forfeit land, and wed
My cockatrice to a man of worship--
To a man of worship, by this light!

BOUT. But how?

W. SMALL. Thus: in Ram-Alley lies a fellow, by name
Throat: one that professeth law, but indeed
Has neither law nor conscience; a fellow
That never saw the bar, but when his life
Was call'd in question for a cosenage.
The rogue is rich; to him go you, tell him
That rich Sir John Sommerfield--

CON. How's that? [_Aside._

W. SMALL. Is lately dead, and that my hopes stand fair
To get his only daughter. If I speed,[328]
And have but means to steal away the wench,
Tell him I reckon him my chiefest friend
To entertain us, till our nuptial rites
May be accomplish'd: and could you but procure
My elder brother meet me on the way,
And but associate me unto his house,
'Twere hit, i' faith; I'd give my cunning Throat
An honest slit for all his tricks in law.

BOUT. Why this shall be perform'd; take; there's my store.
To friends all things are common.

W. SMALL. Then at the court
There are none foes, for all things there are common. [_Aside._

BOUT. I will as carefully perform thy wish,
As if my fortunes lay upon th' attempt.

W. SMALL. When shall I hear from you?

BOUT. Within this hour.

W. SMALL. Let me alone for the rest: if I gull not
And go beyond my open-throated lawyer,
For all his book-cases of _Tricesimo nono_
And _Quadragesima octavo_, let me,
Like waiting gentlewomen, be ever bound
To sit upon my heels, and pick rushes.
Will you about this gear?

BOUT. With my best speed.

W. SMALL. Then fare you well; you'll meet me?

BOUT. Without fail.

[_Exeunt_ BOUTCHER _and_ PAGE.[329]

W. SMALL. Adieu. Now, you pernicious cockatrice,[330]
You see how I must skelder for your good:
I'll bring you where you shall have means to cheat,
If you have grace enough to apprehend it.

FRAN. Believe me, love, howe'er some stricter wits
Condemn all women which are prone to love,
And think that if their favour fall on any,
By consequence they must be naught with many,
And hold a false position: that a woman,
False to herself, can trusty be to no man--
Yet no, I say: howe'er my life hath, lost
The fame which my virginity aspir'd,
I will be true to thee: my deed shall move
To win from all men pity, if not love.

W. SMALL. Tut, I know thee a good rascal; lets in,
And on with all your neat and finest rags:
On with your cloak, and safeguard,[331] you arrant drab!
You must cheat without all conscience, filch for thee and me.
Do but thou act what I shall well contrive,
We'll teach my lawyer a new way to thrive. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ MISTRESS TAFFATA _and_ ADRIANA _her maid,_
_above_.

TAF. Come, lov'd Adriana, here let us sit,
And mark who passes. Now, for a wager,
What colour'd beard comes next by the window?

ADRI. A black, madam,[332] I think.

TAF. I think not so:
I think a red, for that is most in fashion.
Lord! how scarce is the world of proper men
And gallants! sure, we never more shall see
A good leg worn in a long silk stocking
With a long codpiece: of all fashions,
That carried it, i' faith. What's he goes by?

_Enter a Citizen._

ADRI. A snivelling citizen: he is carrying ware [_Exit._
Unto some lady's chamber: but who's this?

_Enter_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS _reading a letter_.

TAF. I know him not; he looks just like a fool.

ADRI. He's very brave, he may be a courtier:
What's that he reads?

TAF. Ah! how light he treads,
For dirting his silk stockings! I'll tell thee what,
A witty woman may with ease distinguish
All men by their noses, as thus: your nose
Tuscan is lovely, large and broad,
Much like a goose: your valiant generous nose,
A crooked, smooth and a great puffing nose;
Your scholar's nose is very fresh and raw,
For want of fire in winter, and quickly smells
His chops of mutton in his dish of porridge;
Your puritan nose is very sharp and long
(Much like your widow's!)[333] and with ease can smell
An edifying capon some few[334] streets off.

_Enter_ BOUTCHER _and_ CONSTANTIA.

ADRI.[335] O mistress! a very proper gentleman.

TAF. And trust me, so he is; I never saw
A man that sooner could captive my thoughts
(Since I writ widow) than this gentleman.
I would he would look up!

ADRI. I'll laugh so loud,
That he may hear me.

TAF. That's not so good.

BOUT. And spake you with Master Small-shanks?

CON. I did.

BOUT. Will he meet his brother?

CON. He said he would,
And I believed him. I tell you, master,
I have done that for many of these gallants
That no man in this town would do but I.

BOUT. What is that, boy?

CON. Why, trust them on their words?
But will you hear the news, which now supplies
The city with discourse?

BOUT. What is it, wag?

CON. This, sir: they say some of our city dames
Were much desirous to see the baboons
Do their newest tricks: went, saw them, came home:
Went to bed, slept; next morning one of them,
Being to shift a smock, sends down her maid
To warm her one; meanwhile, she gins to think
On the baboons' tricks, and (naked in her bed)
Begins to practise some: at last she strove
To get her right leg over her head thus;
And by her activity she got it
'Cross her shoulder; but not with all her power
Could she reduce[336] it: at last [she, with] much struggling,
Tumbles quite from the bed upon the floor.
The maid by this return'd with the warm smock,
And seeing her mistress thrown on the ground,
Truss'd up like a football, exclaims, calls help,
Runs down amaz'd, swears that her mistress' neck
Is broke: up comes her husband and neighbours.
And finding her thus truss'd, some flatly said
She was bewitch'd--others she was possess'd:
A third said for her pride the devil had set
Her face where her rump should stand; but at last
Her valiant husband steps me boldly to her,
Helps her: she ashamed, her husband amazed,
The neighbours laughing, as none forbear,
She tells them of the fatal accident.
To which one answers that, if her husband
Would leave his trade, and carry his wife about
To do this trick in public, she'd get more gold
Than all the baboons, calves with two tails,
Or motions[337] whatsoever.

BOUT. You are a wag.

TAF. [_Above._] He will be gone if we neglect to stay him.

ADRI. Shall I cough or sneeze?

TAF. No, I ha't; stand aside.
Ah me, my handkerchief! Adrian, Fabian!

ADRI. Mistress!

TAF. Run, run, I have let my handkerchief fall.
Gentleman, shall I entreat a courtesy?

BOUT. Within my power your beauty shall command.
What courtesy is't?

TAF. To stoop, and take up
My handkerchief.

BOUT. Your desire is performed.

TAF. Sir, most hearty thanks: please you come in,
Your welcome shall transcend your expectation.

BOUT. I accept your courtesy: ha! what's this?
Assailed by fear and hope in a moment:
Boutcher, this womanish passion fits not men,
Who know the worth of freedom: shall smiles and eyes
With their lascivious glances conquer him,
Hath still been lord of his affections?
Shall simp'ring niceness, loadstones but to fools,
Attract a knowing spirit! it shall, it does.
Not Phoebus, rising from Aurora's lap,
Spreads his bright rays with more majestic grace
Than came the glances from her quick'ning eye.
And what of this?

CON. By my troth, I know not.

BOUT. I will not enter: continued flames burn strong.
I yet am free, and reason keeps her seat
Above all fond affections--yet is she fair.

_Enter_ ADRIANA [_from above_].

ADRI. Sir, I bring you thanks for this great courtesy:
And if you please to enter, I dare presume
My mistress will afford you gracious welcome.

BOUT. How do men call your mistress?

CON. The man's in love. [_Aside._

ADRI. Her name, sir, is Mistress Changeable, late wife
To Master Taffata, mercer, deceas'd.

BOUT. I have heard she is both rich and beautiful.

ADRI. In th' eyes of such as love her; judge yourself;
Please you but prick forward, and enter. [_Exit_ BOUTCHER.

CON. Now will I fall aboard the waiting-maid.

ADRI. Fall aboard of me! dost take me for a ship?

CON. Ay, and will shoot you betwixt wind and water.

ADRI. Blurt! master gunner, your linstock's[338] too short.

CON. Foot! how did she know that I dost hear, sweetheart,
Should not the page be doing with the maid,
Whilst the master is busy with the mistress?
Please you, prick forwards; thou art a wench
Likely to go the way of all flesh shortly.

ADRI. Whose witty knave art thou?

CON. At your service.

ADRI. At mine, faith! I should breech thee.

CON. How, breech me?

ADRI. Ay, breech thee;[339] I have breech'd a taller man
Than you in my time: come in, and welcome. [_Exit._

CON. Well, I see now a rich well-practis'd bawd
May purse more fees in a summer's progress
Than a well-traded lawyer in a whole term.
Pandarism! why, 'tis grown a liberal science,
Or a new sect, and the good professors
Will (like the Brownist) frequent gravel-pits shortly,
For they use woods and obscure holes already. [_Exit._

_Enter_ TAFFATA _and_ BOUTCHER.

TAF. Not marry a widow?

BOUT. No.

TAF. And why?
Belike, you think it base and servant-like
To feed upon reversion: you hold us widows,
But as a pie thrust to the lower end,
That hath had many fingers in't before,
And is reserv'd for gross and hungry stomachs.

BOUT. You much mistake me.

TAF. Come, in faith, you do:
And let me tell you that's but ceremony;
For though the pie be broken up before,
Yet, says the proverb, the deeper is the sweeter.
And though a capon's wings and legs be carv'd,
The flesh left with the rump, I hope, is sweet.
I tell you, sir, I have been woo'd and sued to
By worthy knights of fair demesnes: nay, more,
They have been out of debt; yet till this hour
I neither could endure to be in love
Or be beloved; but proffer'd ware is cheap.
What's lawful, that is loath'd, and things denied
Are with more stronger appetite pursu'd.
I am too yielding.

BOUT. You mistake my thoughts.
But know, thou wonder of this continent,
By one more skill'd in unknown fate than was
The blind Achaian Prophet,[340] 'twas foretold,
A widow should endanger both my life,
My soul, my lands, and reputation.
This checks my thoughts, and cools th' essential fire
Of sacred love, more ardent in my breast
Than speech can utter.

TAF. A trivial idle jest!
Is't[341] for a man of your repute and note
To credit fortune-tellers? A petty rogue,
That never saw five shillings in a heap,
Will take upon him to divine men's fate,
Yet never knows himself shall die a beggar,
Or be hanged up for pilfering table-cloths,
Shirts and smocks, hang'd out to dry on hedges.
Tis merely[342] base to trust them: or if there be
A man in whom the Delphic god hath breath'd
His true divining fire, that can foretell
The fix'd decree of fate--he likewise knows
What is within the everlasting book
Of destiny decreed, cannot by wit
Or man's invention be dissolv'd or shunn'd.
Then give thy love free scope, embrace and kiss,
And to the distaff-sisters leave th' event.

BOUT. How powerful are their words whom we affect!
Small force shall need to win the strongest fort,
If to his state the captain be perfidious.
I must entreat you license my depart
For some few hours.

TAF. Choose what you will of time:
There lies your way. [_Moves away._

BOUT. I will entreat her [_aside._] Stay.

TAF. Did you call, sir?

BOUT. No.

TAF. Then fare you well.

BOUT. Who 'gins to love, needs not a second hell.

[_Exit_ BOUTCHER.

_Enter_ ADRIANA.

TAF. Adriana, makes he no stay?

ADRI. Mistress?

TAF. I pray thee see if he have left the house.
Peep close; see, but be not seen: is he gone?

ADRI. No; he has made a stand.

TAF. I prythee, keep close.

ADRI. Nay, keep you close, y' had best.

TAF. What does he now?

ADRI. Now he retires.[343]

_Re-enter_ BOUTCHER [_below_].

BOUT. O you much partial gods!
Why gave you men affections, and not[344] power
To govern them? what I by fate should shun,
I most affect--a widow, a widow.

TAF. Blows the wind there?

ADRI. Ha, ha! he's in, i' faith:
Y' have drawn him now within your purlieus, mistress.

BOUT. Tut, I will not love! my rational
And better parts shall conquer blind affections:
Let passion children or weak women sway.
My love shall to my judgment still obey. [_Exit._

TAF. What does he now?

ADRI. He's gone.

TAF. Gone! Adriana?

ADRI. He went his way, and never look'd behind him.

TAF. Sure, he's taken?

ADRI. A little sing'd or so:
Each thing must have beginning; men must prepare,
Before they can come on, and show their loves
In pleasing sorts: the man must do in time;
For love, good mistress, is much like to wax--
The more 'tis rubb'd, it sticks the faster to;
Or, like a bird in bird-lime or a pit-fall,
The more he labours, still the deeper in.

TAF. Come, thou must help me now; I have a trick
To second this beginning, and in the nick
To strike it dead, i' faith. Women must woo,
When men forget what nature leads them to. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ THROAT _the lawyer from his study; books and_
_bags of money on a table, a chair and cushion_.

THROAT. Chaste Phoebe, _splende_; there's that left yet,
Next to my book, _claro micante auro_.
Ay, that's the soul of law; that's it, that's it,
For which the buckram-bag must trudge all weathers,
Though scarcely fill'd with one poor replication.
How happy are we, that we joy the law
So freely as we do: not bought and sold,
But clearly given, without all base extorting:
Taking but bare ten angels for a fee,
Or upward. To this renown'd estate
Have I by indirect and cunning means
Enwoven myself, and now can scratch it out:
Thrust at a bar, and cry _My lord_ as loud
As e'er a listed gownman of them all.
I never plead before the honour'd bench:
But _bench right-worshipful of peaceful justices_
_And country gentlemen_: and yet I've found
Good gettings, by the mass; besides odd cheats,
Will Small-shank's lands, and many garboils[345] more,
Dash!

_Enter_ DASH.

DASH. Sir.

THROAT. Is that rejoinder done?

DASH. Done, sir.

THROAT. Have you drawn't at length, have you dash'd it out--
According to your name?

DASH. Some sevenscore sheets.

THROAT. Is the demurrer drawn 'twixt Snipe and Woodcock?
And what do you say to Peacock's pitiful bill?

DASH. I have drawn his answer negative to all.

THROAT. Negative to all! The plaintiff says
That William Goose was son to Thomas Goose;
And will he swear the general bill is false?

DASH. He will.

THROAT. Then he forswears his father: 'tis well,
Some of our clients will go prig[346] to hell
Before ourselves. Has he paid all his fees?

DASH. He left them all with me.

THROAT. Then truss my points:
And how think'st thou of law?

DASH. Most reverently,
Law is the world's great light: a second sun
To this terrestrial globe: by which all things
Have life and being, and without which
Confusion and disorder soon would seize
The general state of men: wars, outrages.
The ulcerous deeds of peace it curbs and cures;
It is the kingdom's eye, by which she sees
The acts and thoughts of men.

THROAT. The kingdom's eye!
I tell thee, fool, it is the kingdom's nose,
By which she smells out all these rich transgressors:
Nor is't of flesh, but merely made of wax,
And 'tis within the power of us lawyers
To wrest this nose of wax which way we please:
Or it may be, as thou say'st, an eye indeed;
But if it be, 'tis (sure) a woman's eye, [_Knock within._
That's ever rolling.

DASH. One knocks.

THROAT. Go, see who 'tis--
Stay, my chair and gown; and then go see who knocks.
Thus must I seem a lawyer, which am indeed
But merely dregs and off scum of the law.

Ay, _tricesimo primo Alberti Magni_,
'Tis very clear.

BOUT. God save you, sir.

THROAT. The place is very pregnant. Master Boutcher,
Most hearty welcome, sir.

BOUT. You ply this gear,
You are no truant in the law, I see?

THROAT. Faith, some hundred books in folio I have
Turn'd over to better my own knowledge;
But that is nothing for a studient.[347]

BOUT. Or a stationer--they turn them over too,
But not as you do, gentle Master Throat.
And what? the law speaks profit, does it not?

THROAT. Faith, some bad angels haunt us now and then;
But what brought you hither?

BOUT. Why, these small legs?

THROAT. You are conceited, sir.

BOUT. I am in law,
But let that go, and tell me how you do:
How does Will Small-shanks and his lovely bride?

THROAT. In troth, you make me blush; I should have ask'd
His health of you; but 'tis not yet too late.

BOUT. Nay, good Sir Throat,[348] forbear your quillets[349] now.

THROAT. By heaven, I deal most plain! I saw him not,
Since last I took his mortgage.

BOUT. Sir, be not nice--
Yet I must needs herein commend your love--
To let me see him; for (know) I know him wed,
And that he stole away Sommerfield's heir.
Therefore suspect me not: I am his friend.

THROAT. How! wed to rich Sommerfield's only heir!
Is old Sommerfield dead?

BOUT. Do you make it strange?

THROAT. By heav'n, I know it not.

BOUT. Then am I griev'd
I spake so much; but that I know you love him,
I should entreat your secrecy, sir; fare you well.

THROAT. Nay, good sir, stay; if ought you can disclose
Of Master Small-shanks' good, let me partake,
And make me glad in knowing his good hap.

BOUT. You much endear him, sir; and from your love
I dare presume you make yourself a fortune,
If his fair hopes proceed.

THROAT. Say on, good sir.

BOUT. You will be secret?

THROAT. Or be my tongue torn out.

BOUT. [Fair] measure for a lawyer. [_Aside._] But to the point,
He has stole Sommerfield's heir, hither brings her,
As to a man on whom he may rely
His life and fortunes: you hath he named
Already for the steward of his lands:
To keep his courts, and to collect his rent;
To let out leases, and to raise his fines:
Nothing that may or love or profit bring,
But you are named the man.

THROAT. I am his slave,
And bound unto his noble courtesy
Even with my life; I ever said he would thrive,
And I protest I kept his forfeit mortgage
To let him know what 'tis to live in want.

BOUT. I think no less. One word more in private. [_Walk aside._

CON. Good Master Dash, shall I put you now a case?

DASH. Speak on, good master page.

CON. Then thus it is:
Suppose I am a page, he is my master,
My master goes to bed, and cannot tell
What money's in his hose; I, ere next day,
Have filch'd out some, what action lies for this?

DASH. An action, boy, call'd firking the posteriors.
With us your action seldom comes in question;
For that 'tis known that most of your gallants
Are seldom so well-stor'd, that they forget
What money's in their hose; but if they have,
There is no other help than swear the page,
And put him to his oath.

CON. Then, firk o' law,[350]
Dost think, he that has conscience to steal,
Has not a conscience likewise to deny?
Then hang him up, i' faith?

[BOUTCHER _and_ THROAT
_come forward again_.

BOUT. I must meet him.

THROAT. Commend me to them; come, when they will,
My doors stand open, and all within is theirs;
And though Ram-Alley stinks with cooks and ale,
Yet say there's many a worthy lawyer's chamber,
'Buts upon Ram-Alley. I have still an open throat,
If aught I have which may procure his good,
Bid him command--ay, though it be my blood. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[321] _Ram-Alley_ is one of the avenues into the Temple from Fleet Street. It formerly, among other places, claimed to be exempt from the process of the Courts of Law, a privilege which was taken from it by the Stat. of 9 & 10 William III. c. xxvii. s. 15.

[322] [Compare Dyce's Middleton, iii. 81.]

[323] [Old copies, _my_.]

[324] [A contemptuous allusion--one of many--to the profusion with which James I. created this dignity for the sake of raising money.]

[325] [Edits., wholesale-men.]

[326] A paint or composition used by the ladies to beautify the face and heighten the complexion. It is mentioned in Ben Jonson's "Sejanus," act ii. sc. 1--

"To-morrow morning
I'll send you a perfume, first to resolve
And procure sweat, and then prepare a bath
To cleanse and clear the cutis; against when
I'll have an excellent new _fucus_ made,
Resistive 'gainst the sun, the rain, or wind,
Which you shall lay on with a breath or oil,
As you best like, and last some fourteen hours."

["Works," by Gifford, 1816, iii. 45, where _breath_ seems to be an error--forsaw, _brush_.]

[327] A _laundress_ is the name still preserved at the Inns of Court for the women, who attend to the men in chambers.

[328] The 4o of 1636 has it _If I spend_, which was followed by Mr Reed, but the first 4o of 1611 gives the true reading, _If I speed_.--_Collier_.

[329] Meaning Constantia, so disguised.--_Collier._

[330] See note to "The Antiquary," act iv. sc. I (vol. 13.)

[331] See note at p. 277 _suprá_.

[332] [Old copies, _man's_.]

[333] [Edits., _and much_. This seems to have been introduced as a playful allusion by Widow Taffata to herself], unless these words should be given to Adriana.

[334] [Edits., _five_.]

[335] [This part of the dialogue is conducted by Adriana and Taffata above, while the other persons enter and converse below.]

[336] Bring it back.

[337] _i.e._, Puppet-shows. See note to "The Antiquary," act i. sc. I (vol. 13.)

[338] [Properly the stick to hold the gunner's match; but here the meaning is _figurative_.]

[339] _i.e._, Whip thee.

[340] Tiresias, the blind prophet of Thebes. Sec "The OEdipus" of Sophocles, and that of Dryden and Lee.

[341] [Edits., '_Tis_.]

[342] Absolutely. So in "The Honest Man's Fortune," by Beaumont and Fletcher--

"I am as happy In my friend's good, as if 'twere _merely_ mine."

[343] Perhaps we ought to read _Now he returns_, and not _Now he retires_; but both the old copies are uniform in favour of _retires_.--_Collier_. [_Retire_ may be right, as it is justifiable to interpret it in its original sense of draw back, in which it is almost equivalent to _return_.]

[344] [Old copies, _a power_.]

[345] Barry uses this word _garboils_ in a sense to which it was not usually applied. The Rev. Mr Todd, in his edition of Dr Johnson's Dictionary, says, "Bishop Hall has rendered Virgil's _arma_, _i.e._, _battles_, by the word _garboil_." This is a mistake, for Hall is laughing at Stanihurst for having so done in his attempted _hexameter_ translation of the Æneid--

"Give me the number'd verse that Virgil sung,
And Virgil's self shall speak the English tongue;
Manhood and _garboiles_ shall he chaunt with changed feet," &c.

--B. i. sat. 6.

But there are many authorities besides Shakespeare, in his "Antony and Cleopatra," for its employment. Gascoigne inserts it in the speech of Hercules in the "Princely Pleasures of Kenilworth": "A _garboyel_ this in deede," ["Works" by Hazlitt, ii. 93]. Drayton also uses it in [his "Mortimeriados," 1596,] quoted in "England's Parnassus," p. 444--

"Such is the _garboyle_ of this conflict then;
Brave Englishmen encountering Englishmen."

and T. Heywood, in his "Rape of Lucrece," 1608, talks of "the head of all these garboyles, the chief actor of that black sin," &c.--_Collier._

[346] [Ride, perhaps a form of _prick_.]

[347] Formerly printed _studient_, and for the measure it must be read so.--_Collier._ [The form _studient_ is legitimate, though uncommon, and has been restored.]

[348] [This form of address was borrowed from the university.]

[349] _i.e._, Subtleties. So in "Every Woman in her Humour," 1609, sig. H 4: "He has his pols and his oedypols, his times and his tricks, his quirks, and _his quilits_," &c.

Again, in Lyly's "Euphues," 1581, p. 56: "Not only the, quirks and _quiddities_ of the Logicians, but also," &c.

See also Mr Steevens's note on "Hamlet," act v. sc. I.

[350] [Edits., _fecks-law_, of which I fail to comprehend the meaning, if any. Tha phrase _firk of law_ occurs again at p. 329, and in the sense of a trick or sleight.]

ACTUS II., SCÆNA 1.

_Enter_ OLIVER SMALL-SHANKS, THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS.

O. SMALL. Is this the place you were appointed to meet him?

T. SMALL. So Boutcher sent me word.

O. SMALL. I find it true,
That wine, good news, and a young wholesome wench
Cheer up an old man's blood. I tell thee, boy,
I am right hearty glad to hear thy brother
Hath got so great an heir: now were myself
So well bestow'd, I should rejoice, i' faith.

T. SMALL. I hope you shall do well.

O. SMALL. No doubt, no doubt;
Ah, sirrah! has a' borne the wench away!
My son, i' faith, my very son, i' faith!
When I was young, and had an able back,
And wore the bristle on my upper-lip,
In good decorum I had as good conveyance,
And could have ferk'd, and ferk'd y' away a wench,
As soon as e'er a man alive. Tut, boy,
I had my winks, my becks, treads on the toe,
Wrings by the fingers, smiles, and other quirks--
No courtier like me; your courtiers all are fools,
To that which I could do. I could have done it, boy,
Even to a hair, and that some ladies know.

T. SMALL. Sir, I am glad this match may reconcile
Your love unto my brother.

O. SMALL. O, 'tis more than so. [Yet]
I'll seem offended still, though I am glad [_Aside._

_Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS, FRANCES, BEARD,
_booted_.

H' has got rich Sommerfield's heir,

W. SMALL. Come, wench of gold!
For thou shalt get me gold, besides odd ends
Of silver: we'll purchase house and land
By thy bare gettings, wench, by thy bare gettings.
How say'st, Lieutenant Beard; does she not look
Like a wench newly stole from a window?

BEARD. Exceeding well she carries it, by Jove;
And if she can forbear her rampant tricks,
And but hold close a while, 'twill take, by Mars.

FRAN. How now, you slave? my rampant tricks, you rogue!
Nay, fear not me: my only fear is still,
Thy filthy face betrays us; for all men know,
Thy nose stands compass like a bow,
Which is three quarters drawn; thy head
Which is with greasy hair o'erspread,
And being uncurl'd and black as coal,
Doth show some scullion in a hole
Begot thee on a gipsy, or
Thy mother was some collier's whore:
My rampant tricks, you rogue! thou'lt be descried,
Before our plot be ended.

W. SMALL. What should descry him,
Unless it be his nose? and as for that,
Thou may'st protest he was thy father's butler,
And for thy love is likewise run away.
Nay, sweet lieutenant, now forbear to puff,
And let the bristles of thy beard grow downward:
Reverence my punk, and pandarise a little,
There's many of thy rank that do profess it,
Yet hold it no disparagement.

BEARD. I shall do
What fits an honest man.

W. SMALL. Why, that's enough:
'Foot, my father and the goose my brother:--
Back you two.--

BEARD. Back.

[_Enter_ WILLIAM _and_ OLIVER SMALL-SHANKS.]

W. SMALL. Retire, sweet lieutenant,
And come not on till I shall wave you on.

O. SMALL. Is not that he?

T. SMALL. 'Tis he.

O. SMALL. But where's the wench![351]

W. SMALL. It shall be so, I'll cheat him, that's flat.

O. SMALL. You are well met: know ye me, good sir?
Belike you think I have no eyes, no ears,
No nose to smell, and wind out all your tricks,
Y' have stole Sir Sommerfield's heir: nay, we can find
Your wildest parts, your turnings and returns,
Your traces, squats, the mussers, forms, and holes[352]
You young men use, if once our sagest wits
Be set a-hunting. Are you now crept forth?
Have you hid your head within a suburb-hole
All this while, and are you now crept forth?

W. SMALL. 'Tis a stark lie.

O. SMALL. How?

W. SMALL. Who told you so did lie;
'Foot! a gentleman cannot leave the city,
And keep the suburbs to take a little physic,
But straight some slave will say he hides his head.
I hide my head within a suburb-hole!
I could have holes at court to hide my head,
Were I but so dispos'd.

O. SMALL. Thou varlet knave,
Th' hast stolen away Sir John Sommerfield's heir;
But never look for countenance from me,
Carry her whither thou wilt.

W. SMALL. Father, father,
Heart! will you undo your posterity?
Will you, sir, undo your posterity?
I can but kill my brother, then hang myself,
And where is then your house? Make me not despair,
'Foot, now I have got a wench, worth by the year
Two thousand pound and upwards, to cross my hopes!
Would e'er a clown in Christendom do't but you?

T. SMALL. Good father, let him leave this thundering,
And give him grace.

W. SMALL. Why, la, my brother knows
Reason, and what an honest man should do.

O. SMALL. Well, where's your wife?

W. SMALL. She's coming here behind.

O. SMALL. I'll give her somewhat, though I love not thee.

W. SMALL. My father, right: I knew you could not hold
Out long with a woman; but give something
Worthy your gift and her acceptance, father.
This chain were excellent, by this good light,
She shall give you as good, if once her lands

_Enter_ FRANCES _and_ BEARD.

Come to my fingering.

O. SMALL. Peace, knave! what, 's she your wife?

W. SMALL. That shall be, sir.

O. SMALL. And what's he?

W. SMALL. My man.

O. SMALL. A ruffian knave he is.

W. SMALL. A ruffian, sir!
By heaven! as tall a man[353] as e'er drew sword,
Not being counted of the damned crew.
He was her father's butler, his name is Beard;
Off with your mask, now shall you find me true,
And that I am a son unto a knight:
This is my father. [To FRANCES.

O. SMALL. I am indeed, fair maid;
My style is knight: come, let me kiss your lips.

W. SMALL. That kiss shall cost your chain.

[_Aside._

O. SMALL. It smacks, i' faith:
I must commend your choice.

FRAN. Sir, I have given
A larger venture than true modesty
Will well allow, or your more graver wit Commend.

W. SMALL. I dare be sworn she has.

O. SMALL. Not so.
The foolish knave has been accounted wild,
And so have I; but I am now come home,
And so will he.

FRAN. I must believe it now.

W. SMALL. Beg his chain, wench. [Aside.

BEARD. Will you cheat your father?

W. SMALL. Ay, by this light, will I.

O. SMALL. Nay, sigh not;
For you shall find him loving and me thankful;
And were it not a scandal to my honour
To be consenting to my son's attempt,
You should unto my house: meanwhile, take this
[_To_ FRANCES.
As pledge and token of my after-love!
[_Gives her a chain._
How long since died your father?

FRAN. Some six weeks since------

W. SMALL. We cannot stay to talk, for slaves pursue.
I have a house shall lodge us, till the priest
May make us sure.

O. SMALL. Well, sirrah, love this woman,
And when you are man and wife, bring her to me:
She shall be welcome.

W. SMALL. I humbly thank you, sir.

O. SMALL. I must be gone; I must a-wooing too.

W. SMALL. Jove and Priapus speed you!
You'll return?

T. SMALL. Instantly.

[_Exeunt_ SIR OLIVER _and_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS.

W. SMALL. Why, this came cleanly off,
Give me the chain, you little cockatrice;
Why, this was luck; 'foot! four hundred crowns
Got at a clap! hold still your own, you whore,
And we shall thrive.

BEARD. 'Twas bravely fetch'd about.

W. SMALL. Ay, when will your nose and beard perform as much?

FRAN. I am glad he is gone; he put me to the blush
When he did ask me of rich Sommerfield's death.

W. SMALL. And took not I my cue?[354] was't not good?
Did I not bring you off, you arrant drab,
Without a counter-buff?[355] look who comes here--
[_Sings._] _And three merry men, and three merry men,_
_And three merry men be we-a._[356]

_Enter_ BOUTCHER _and_ CONSTANTIA.

BOUT. Still in this vein? I have done you service;
The lawyer's house will give you entertainment,
Bountiful and free.

W. SMALL. O my second self!
Come, let me buss thy beard, we are all made!
Why art so melancholy, dost want money?
Look, here's gold, and as we pass along,
I'll tell thee how I got it: not a word,
But that she's Sommerfield's heir; my brother
Swallows it with more ease than a Dutchman
Does flap-dragons: he comes; now to my lawyers.

_Enter_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS.

Kiss my wife, good brother; she is a wench
Was born to make us all.

T. SMALL. I hope no less,
You are welcome, sister, into these our parts,
As I may say.

FRAN. Thanks, gentle brother.

W. SMALL. Come now to Ram Alley.
There shalt thou lie,
Till I provide a priest.

BOUT. O villany!
I think he will gull his whole generation;
I must make one, since 'tis so well begun:
I'll not forsake him, till his hopes be won. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ THROAT _and two Citizens_.

THROAT. Then y' are friends?

BOTH. We are, so please your worship.

THROAT. 'Tis well, I am glad: keep your money, for law
Is like a butler's box:[357] while you two strive,
That picks up all your money. You are friends?

BOTH. We are, so please you, perfect friends.

THROAT. Why so.
Now to the next tap-house; there drink down this,
And by the operation of the third pot
Quarrel again, and come to me for law: [_Aside._
Fare you well.

BOTH. The gods conserve your wisdom. [_Exeunt Citizens._

THROAT. Why so: these are tricks[358] of the long fifteens:[359]
To give counsel, and to take fees on both sides;
To make 'em friends, and then to laugh at them!
Why, this thrives well, this is a common trick.
When men have spent a deal of money in law,
Then lawyers make them friends. I have a trick
To go beyond all these. If Small-shanks come,
And bring rich Somerfield's heir ---- I say no more;
But 'tis within this sconce[360] to go beyond them.

_Enter_ DASH.

DASH. Here are gentlemen in haste would speak with you.

THROAT. What are they?

DASH. I cannot know them, sir,
They are so wrapp'd in cloaks.

THROAT. Have they a woman?

DASH. Yes, sir; but she's mask'd, and in her riding suit.

THROAT. Go, make haste, bring them up with reverence.
Who[361] are they, i' faith? h' has brought the wealthy heir?
These stools and cushions stand not handsomely.

_Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS, BOUTCHER,
THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS, FRANCES, _and_ BEARD.

W. SMALL. Bless thee, Throat.

THROAT. Master Small-shanks, welcome.

W. SMALL. Welcome, love; kiss this gentle woman, Throat.

THROAT. Your worship shall command me.

W. SMALL. Art not weary?

BOUT. Can you blame her, since she has rid so hard?

THROAT. You are welcome, gentlemen. Dash!

DASH. Sir.

THROAT. A fire in the great chamber quickly.

W. SMALL. Ay, that's well-said; we are almost weary.
But, Master Throat, if any come to inquire
For me, my brother, or this gentlewoman,
We are not here, nor have you heard of us.

THROAT. Not a word, sir; here you are as safe
As in your father's house.

T. SMALL. And he shall thank you.

W. SMALL. Th' art not merry, love? Good Master Throat,
Bid this gentlewoman welcome: she is one,
Of whom you may receive some courtesy
In time.

THROAT. She is most hearty welcome.
Wilt please you walk into another room,
Where is both bed and fire?

W. SMALL. Ay, ay, that, that.
Good brother, lead her in: Master Throat and I
Will follow instantly. Now, Master Throat,
[_Exeunt_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS, FRANCES, _and_ BEARD.
It rests within your power to pleasure me:
Know that this same is Sir John Sommerfield's heir;
Now if she chance to question what I am,
Say, son unto a lord: I pray thee, tell her
I have a world of land, and stand in hope
To be created baron; for I protest
I was constrain'd to swear it forty times,
And yet she'll scarce believe me.

THROAT. _Pauca sapienti_:
Let me alone to set you out in length
And breadth.

W. SMALL. I prythee, do't effectually;
Shalt have a quarter share, by this good light,
In all she has. I prythee, forget not
To tell her the Small-shanks have been dancers,
Tilters, and very ancient courtiers,
And in request at court since Sir John Short-hose
With his long silk stockings was beheaded.
Wilt thou do this?

THROAT. Refer it to my care.

W. SMALL. Excellent! I'll but shift my boots, and then
Go seek a priest; this night I will be sure.
If we be sure, it cannot be undone;
Can it, Master Throat?

THROAT. O, sir, not possible;
You have many precedents and book-cases for't,
Be you but sure, and then let me alone.
_Vivat Rex, currat Lex_; and I'll defend you.

W. SMALL. Nay, then, hang care: come, let's in.

[_Exit_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS.

THROAT. Ha, ha!
Have you stole her? _fallere fallentem non est fraus_.
It shall go hard but I will strip you, boy:
You stole the wench, but I must her enjoy. [_Exit._

_Enter_ MISTRESS TAFFATA _and_ ADRIANA, _below_.

TAF. Come, Adriana, tell me what thou think'st.
I am tickled with conceit of marriage,
And whom think'st thou for me the fittest husband?
What say'st thou to young Boutcher?

ADRI. A pretty fellow;
But that his back is weak.

TAF. What dost thou say
To Throat the lawyer?

ADRI. I like that well,
Were the rogue a lawyer; but he is none.
He never was of any inn-of-court,
But [of an] inn-of-chancery, where a' was known
But only for a swaggering whiffler,
To keep out rogues and prentices: I saw him,
When he was stock'd for stealing the cook's fees.
A lawyer I could like, for 'tis a thing
Used by your citizens' wives. Your husband's dead:
To get French hoods you straight must lawyers wed.

TAF. What say'st thou then to nimble Sir
Oliver Small-shanks?

ADRI. Faith, he must hit the hair; a fellow fit
To make a pretty cuckold. Take an old man:
'Tis now the newest fashion: better be
An old man's darling than a young man's warling.[362]
Take me the old brisk knight: the fool is rich,
And will be strong enough to father children,
Though not to get them.

TAF. 'Tis true: he is the man.
Yet will I bear some dozen more in hand,[363]
And make them all my gulls.

ADRI. Mistress, stand aside.

_Enter_ BOUTCHER _and_ CONSTANTIA.

Young Boutcher comes: let me alone to touch him.

BOUT. This is the house.

CON. And that's the chamber-maid.

BOUT. Where's the widow, gentle Adriana?

ADRI. The widow, sir, is not to be spoken to.

BOUT. Not spoke to? I must speak with her.

ADRI. Must you?
Come you with authority, or do you come
To sue her with a warrant, that you must speak with her?

BOUT. I would entreat it.

ADRI. O, you would entreat it?
May not I serve your turn? may not I unfold
Your secrets to my mistress? Love is your suit?

BOUT. It is, fair creature.

ADRI. And why did you fall off,
When you perceived my mistress was so coming?[364]
D' you think she is still the same?

BOUT. I do.

ADRI. Why so!
I took you for a novice: and I must think
You know not yet the inwards of a woman.
Do you not know that women are like fish,
Which must be struck, when they are prone to bite,
Or all your labour's lost? But, sir, walk here;
And I'll inform my mistress your desires. [_Exit._

CON. Master.

BOUT. Boy.

CON. Come not you for love?

BOUT. I do, boy.

CON. And you would have the widow?

BOUT. I would.

CON. By Jove,
I never saw one go about his business
More untowardly: why, sir, do not you know,
That he which would be inward[365] with the mistress,
Must make a way first through the waiting-maid?
If you will know the widow's affections,
Feel first the waiting gentlewoman; do it, master:
Some half a dozen kisses were not lost
Upon this gentlewoman; for you must know,
These waiting-maids are to their mistresses,
Like porches unto doors; you pass the one,
Before you can have entrance at the other.
Or like your mustard to your piece of brawn,
If you'll have one taste well, you must not scorn
To be dipping in the other. I tell you, master.
'Tis not a few men's tales which they prefer
Unto their mistresses in compass of a year.
Be rul'd by me; untruss yourself to her,
Out with all your lovesick thoughts to her,
Kiss her, and give her an angel to buy pins,
And this shall sooner win her mistress' love,
Than all your protestations, sighs, and tears.

_Enter_ TAFFATA _and_ ADRIANA.

Here they come. To her boldly, master.
Do, but dally not; that's the widow's phrase.[366]

BOUT. Most worthy fair, such is the power of love,
That now I come t'accept your proffer'd grace;
And with submissive thoughts t'entreat a pardon
For my so gross neglect.

TAF. There's no offence;
My mind is changed.

ADRI. I told you as much before.

CON. With a hey-pass--with a repass.[367] [_Aside._

BOUT. Dearest of women!
The constant virtue of your nobler mind
Speaks in your looks: nor can you entertain
Both love and hate at once.

TAF. 'Tis all in vain.

ADRI. You strive against the stream.

CON. Fee the waiting-maid, master! [_Whispers._

BOUT. Stand thou propitious; endear me to my love.

[BOUTCHER _gives_ ADRIANA _his purse secretly_.

ADRI. Dear mistress, turn to this gentleman;
I protest
I have some feeling of his constant love.
Cast him not away; try his love.

TAF. Why, sir,
With what audacious front can you entreat
To enjoy my love, which yet not two hours since
You scornfully refus'd?

CON. Well fare the waiting-maid. [_Aside._

BOUT. My fate compell'd me; but now farewell, fond fear:
My soul, my life, my lands, and reputation--
I'll hazard all, and prize them all beneath thee.

TAF. Which I shall put to trial; lend me thy ear.

[_They talk apart._

ADRI. Can you love, boy?

CON. Yes.

ADRI. What or whom?

CON. My victuals.

ADRI. A pretty knave, i' faith! come home tonight,
Shalt have a posset and candied eringoes.
A bed, if need be, too: I love, a' [my] life,
To play with such baboons as thou.

CON. Indeed!
But dost thou think the widow will have my master?

ADRI. I'll tell thee then: wo't come?

CON. I will.

ADRI. Remember!

TAF. Will you perform so much?

BOUT. Or lose my blood.

TAF. Make him subscribe it; and then I vow,
By sacred Vesta's ever-hallowed fire,
To take thee to my bed.

BOUT. Till then, farewell.

TAF. He's worthy love, whose virtues most excel.

ADRI. Remember! [_to_ CON.] What, is't a match betwixt you, mistress?

[_Exit_ BOUTCHER _and_ CONSTANTIA.

TAF. I have set the fool in hope: h' has undertook
To rid me of that fleshly Captain Face;
Which swears in taverns and all ordinaries
I am his lawful wife. He shall allay
The fury of the captain, and I (secure)
Will laugh at the disgrace they both endure. [_Exeunt._

THROAT. Open your case, and I shall soon resolve you.

FRAN. But will you do it, truly?

THROAT. As I am honest.

FRAN. This gentleman, whom I so much affect,
I scarce yet do know; so blind is love
In things which most concerns it. As y' are honest,
Tell me his birth, his state, and farthest hopes.

THROAT. He is my friend, and I will speak him truly.
He is by birth son to a foolish knight;
His present state, I think, will be the prison,
And farthest hope, to be bail'd out again
By sale of all your land.

FRAN. O me accurs'd!
Has he no credit, lands, and manors?

THROAT. That land he has lies in a fair churchyard;
And for his manners, they are so rude and vile,
That scarce an honest man will keep him company.

FRAN. I am abus'd, cosen'd, and deceived.

THROAT. Why, that's his occupation: he will cheat
In a cloak lin'd with velvet: he will prate
Faster than five barbers and a tailor;
Lie faster than ten city occupiers[368]
Or cunning tradesmen: goes a-trust
In every tavern, where h' has spent a fagot;
Swears love to every whore, squires bawds,
And takes up houses for them as their husband:
He is a man I love, and have done much
To bring him to preferment.

FRAN. Is there no trust, no honesty in men?

THROAT. Faith, some there is,
And 'tis all in the hands of us lawyers
And women: and those women which have it,
Keep their honesty so close, that not one
Amongst a hundred is perceiv'd to have it.

FRAN. Good sir, may I not by law forsake him,
And wed another, though my word be pass'd
To be his wife?

THROAT. O, questionless, you may!
You have many precedents and bookcases for't:
Nay, though you were married by a bookcase
Of _Millesimo sexcentessimo_, &c.
You may forsake your husband, and wed another,
Provided that some fault be in the husband,
As none of them are clear.

FRAN. I am resolv'd.
I will not wed him, though I beg my bread.

THROAT. All that I have is yours; and were I worthy
To be your husband------