Chapter XI: Prologue (2)

FRAN. I thank you, sir;
I will rather wed a most perfidious Red-shanks
A noted Jew, or some mechanic slave,
Than let him joy my sheets.

THROAT. He comes, he comes.

_Enter_ W. SMALL-SHANKS, BOUTCHER, T. SMALL-SHANKS,
BEARD.

W. SMALL. Now, my virago, 'tis done: all's cock-sure.
I have a priest will mumble up a marriage
Without bell, book, or candle:[369] a nimble slave,
An honest Welshman, that was a tailor,
But now is made a curate.

BEARD. Nay, y' are fitted.

BOUT. Now, Master Throat.

T. SMALL. Where's your spirit, sister?

W. SMALL. What, all amort?[370] what's the matter? do you hear?

BOUT. What's the reason of this melancholy?

THROAT. By heaven, I know not?

W. SMALL. Has the gudgeon bit? [_Aside._

FRAN. He has been nibbling. [_Aside._

W. SMALL. Hold him to it, wench,
And it will hit, by heaven. [_Aside._] Why art so sad?
'Foot, wench, we will be married to-night,
We'll sup at th' Mitre, and from thence
My brother and we three will to the Savoy;
Which done, I tell thee, girl, we'll, hand o'er head,
Go to it pell-mell for a maidenhead.
Come, you are lusty: you wenches are like bells,
You give no music till you feel the clapper.
Come, Throat: a torch. We must be gone. [_Exit._

FRAN. Servant.

BEARD. Mistress.

FRAN. We are undone.

BEARD. Now Jove forfend![371]

FRAN. This fellow has no land; and which is worse,
He has no credit.

BEARD. How! are we outstripp'd?
Blown up by wit of man? Let us be gone
Home again, home again: our market now is done.

FRAN. That were too great a scandal.

THROAT. Most true!
Better to wed another, than to return
With scandal and defame: wed me a man,
Whose wealth may reconcile your mother's love.
And make the action lawful.

BEARD. But where's the man?
I like your counsel, could you show the man.

THROAT. Myself am he, might I but dare aspire
Unto so high a fortune.

BEARD. Mistress, take the man:
Shall we be baffled with fair promises.
Or shall we trudge like beggars back again?
No, take this wise and virtuous man
Who, should he lose his legs, his arms, his ears,
His nose, and all his other members,
Yet if his tongue be left, 'twill get his living.
Take me this man.

THROAT. Thanks, gentle Master Beard.

FRAN. 'Tis impossible; this night he means to wed me.

THROAT. If not by law, we will with pow'r prevent it,
So you but give consent.

FRAN. Let's hear the means.

THROAT. I'll muster up my friends, and thus I cast it:[372]
Whilst they are busy, you and I will hence
Directly to a chapel, where a priest
Shall knit the nuptial knot, ere they pursue us.

BEARD. O rare invention! I will act my part;
He owes me thirteen pound, I say no more,
But there be catchpoles [_Aside_]; speak, is't a match?[373]

FRAN. I give my liking.

THROAT. Dash!

DASH. Sir.

THROAT. Get your sword,
[_Exeunt_ FRANCES _and_ BEARD.
And me my buckler: nay, you shall know
We are _Tam Marti quam Mercurio_.
Bring my cloak: you shall thither: I'll for friends.
Worship and wealth the lawyer's state attends.
Dash, we must bear some brain[374] to Saint John's Street,
Go, run, fly: and afar off inquire,
If that the Lady Sommerfield be there,
If there, know what news; and meet me straight
At the Mitre door,[375] in Fleet Street. Away!
"To get rich wives, men must not use delay."

FOOTNOTES:

[351] The edition of this play in 1636 omits the word _wench_, and therefore it was not found in the last reprint under the care of Mr Reed. It is now inserted from the copy of 1611.--_Collier._

[352] Terms of the chase. _Mussers_ are hiding-holes, or lurking-places; from the Fr. _musser_, to hide, conceal, &c.

[353] _i.e._, As brave a man.

[354] [Edits., Q, the letter having been written probably by the transcriber of the play for press to save trouble. A Q is a farthing in the old college books.]

[355] I imagine an allusion is here intended to the _buff_ coats of the Serjeants belonging to the Counter. See p. 330.

[356] These lines are the conclusion of many old songs. Several instances are produced by Mr Steevens, Sir John Hawkins, and Mr Tyrwhit, in their notes on "Twelfth Night," act ii. sc. 3.

Again, in "Laugh and Lie Downe," 1605, sig. E 4: "He plaied such a song of the _three merry men_, that had the dittie beene in a strange language, I should have been puzzled in the musick."

[357] [This allusion occurs also in Wybarne's "New Age of Old Names," 1609, p. 12, and in "The Return from Parnassus," 1606, (ix. 103).]

[358] Another proof that the edit. of 1636 only was followed by Mr Reed. The first 4o has it--"Why so: _these_ are tricks," &c., and not "_there_ are tricks," as in the second 4o.--_Collier._

[359] [See Dyce's Shakespeare, 1868, v. 178, and "Glossary," _v._ Fifteens. A _fifteen_ was a levy made in subsidies, amounting to a fifteenth of the personalty; but here the phrase almost seems to be used loosely, in the sense of extortion.]

[360] _i.e._, Head.

[361] [Old copies, _O_.]

[362] This is proverbial. [See Hazlitt'e "Proverbs," 1869, p. 84], The Scots say, a young man's _wonderling_. See "Collection of Scots Proverbs," 8o, 1721, by James Kelly, who observes it is used as an argument to induce a young girl to marry an old man.

[363] _To bear in hand_ was a common phrase, signifying _to keep in expectation or dependence_. In Dr Walter Pope's "Life of Bishop Seth Ward," 1697, p. 104, is the following passage: "My Lord, I _might bear you in hand_; a western phrase, signifying _to delay or keep in expectation_, and feed you with promises, or at least hopes, that I should cure you in some competent time," &c.

Again, in Fennor's "Compter's Commonwealth," p. 47: "I have seen divers gentlemen come into prison (after they have laine a fortnight or three weekes at some of their houses, at an excessive rate) without either cloake, sword, or hat, which the sergeants have got from them, onely _bearing them in hand_ that they will get them baile."

And in Ben Jonson's "Volpone," act i. sc. 1--

"_Still bearing them in hand_,
Letting the cherry knock against their lips.
And draw it by their mouths and back again."

The phrase frequently occurs in Shakespeare.

[364] [So forward.]

[365] Intimate, on familiar terms. See note to "The Spanish Tragedy" [v. 168]

[366] An allusion, seemingly, to a popular saying. See Hazlitt's" Proverbs," p. 190.

[367] Terms of legerdemain.

[368] [Merchants.]

[369] These words, _bell, book, and candle_, refer to the mode of excommunication in the Romish Church. In "King John," act iii. sc. 3, the Bastard says--

"_Bell, book, and candle_ shall not drive me back,
When gold and silver becks me to come on."

Dr Grey, in his "Notes on Shakespeare," i. 284, has given the ceremonial on pronouncing an excommunication, by which it appears that in the performance of this office three candles were to be extinguished in the different parts of it. In Archbishop Winchelsea's sentences of excommunication, anno 1298 (see Johnson's "Ecclesiastical Laws," vol. ii.), it is directed that the sentence against infringers of certain articles should be "throughout explained _in order in English_, with _bells tolling and candles lighted_, that it may cause the greater dread; for Laymen have greater regard to this solemnity than to the effect of such sentences."

[370] _All amort_ here and in other places signifies _melancholy_. So in Greene's "History of Friar Bacon," 1594--

"Shall he thus _all amort_ live malecontent."

Again, in "Wily Beguiled," 1606--

"Why, how now, Sophos, _all amort_? still languish in love?"

[ix. 305]. And in the "Contention between Liberality and Prodigality," 1602, the author makes an addition to this French expression not usually found in English--

"What, is there none that answers? _Tout a-la-mort?_"

[viii. 335.]--_Collier._

[371] [Prevent. See note at p. 18 of vol. vii.]

[372] _i.e._, Contrive it. The word is still sometimes used in the same sense.

[373] All after the words _O rare invention_ has been hitherto given to Throat without any notice, and although both the quartos assign it to Beard, who, as appears subsequently, had advanced the sum he mentions.--_Collier._

[374] So in "The Country Captain," by the Duke of Newcastle, 1649, p. 51: "When these wordes of command are rotten, we will sow some other military seedes; _you beare a braine_ and memory."

Again, the Nurse, in "Romeo and Juliet," says--

"Well _I do bear a brain_."

See Mr Steevens's note on this last passage.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 1.

Enter SIR OLIVER SMALL-SHANKS, JUSTICE
TUTCHIN.

JUS. TUT. A-hunting, Sir Oliver, and dry-foot too!

O. SMALL. We old men have our crotchets, our conundrums.
Our figaries, quirks, and quibbles,
As well as youth. Justice Tutchin, I go
To hunt no buck, but prick a lusty doe.
I go, in truth, a-wooing.

JUS. TUT. Then ride with me,
I'll bring you to my sister Sommerfield.

O. SMALL. Justice, not so; by her there hangs a tale.

JUS. TUT. That's true indeed.

O. SMALL. She has a daughter.

JUS. TUT. And what of that?

O. SMALL. I likewise have a son,
A villanous boy, his father up and down;[376]
What should I say? these velvet-bearded boys
Will still be doing, say what we old men can.

JUS. TUT. And what of this, Sir Oliver? be plain.

O. SMALL. A nimble-spirited knave, the villain boy
Has one trick of his sire, has got the wench,
Stol'n your rich sister's heir.

JUS. TUT. Sommerfield's heir?

O. SMALL. Has done the deed, has pierc'd the vessel's head,
And knows by this the vintage.

JUS. TUT. When should this be?

O. SMALL. As I am by my counsel well-informed,
This very day.

JUS. TUT. Tut, it cannot be,
Some ten miles hence I saw the maid last night.

O. SMALL. Maids may be maids to-night, and not to-morrow.
Women are free, and sell their maidenheads,
As men sell cloth by yard and handful;
But if you chance to see your sister widow,
Comfort her tears, and say her daughter's match'd
With one that has a knocker to his father--
An honest, noble knight.

JUS. TUT. Stand close, knight, close,
And mark this captain's humour. His name is Puff.
He dreams as he walks, and thinks no woman

_Enter_ CAPTAIN PUFF.

Sees, him, but is in love with him.

PUFF. 'Twere brave,
If some great lady through a window spied me,
And straight should love me. Say, she should send
Five thousand pound unto my lodging,
And crave my company! with that money
I would make three several cloaks, and line them
With black, crimson, and tawny three-pil'd velvet;
I would eat at Chare's ordinary, and dice
At Antony's: then would I keep my whore
In beaten velvet, and have two slaves to tend her.

O. SMALL. Ha, ha, ha!

PUFF. What, my case of Justices?
What, are you eavesdropping? or do you think
Your tawny coats with greasy facings here
Shall carry it? Sir Oliver Small-shanks,
Know my name is Puff, knight; thee have I sought
To fright thee from thy wits.

JUS. TUT. Nay, good Sir Puff,
We have too many madmen already.

PUFF. How? I tell thee, Justice Tutchin, not all
Thy bailiffs, serjeants, busy constables,
Defeasants, warrants, or thy mittimuses,
Shall save his throat from cutting, if he presume
To woo the widow yclipped[377] Taffata:
She is my wife by oath. Therefore, take heed:
Let me not catch thee in the widow's house:
If I do, I'll pick thy head upon my sword,
And piss in thy very visnomy; beware, beware!
Come there no more; a captain's word
Flies not so fierce as doth his fatal sword. [_Exit_ PUFF.

O. SMALL. How like you this? shall we endure this thunder,
Or go no further?

JUS. TUT. We will on, Sir Oliver,
We will on; let me alone to touch him.
I wonder how my spirit did forbear
To strike him on the face: had this been spoke
Within my liberties, h' had died for it.

_Re-enter_ CAPTAIN PUFF.

O. SMALL. I was about to draw.

PUFF. If you come there,
Thy beard shall serve to stuff those balls, by which
I get me heat at tennis.

JUS. TUT. Is he gone? [_Exit_ PUFF.
I would he durst ha' stood to this a while.
Well, I shall catch him in a narrow room,
Where neither of us can flinch: if I do,
I'll make him dance-a trenchmoor[378] to my sword.
Come, I'll along with you to the widow.
We will not be outbraved, take my word,
We'll not be wrong'd, while I can draw a sword. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ THROAT _and two other_ GENTLEMEN.

THROAT. Let the coach stay at Shoe Lane end; be ready.
Let the boot stand open; and when she's in,
Hurry towards Saint Giles's in the Fields,
As if the devil himself were waggoner.
Now for an arm of oak and heart of steel,
To bear away the wench, to get a wife,
A gentlewoman, a maid--nay, which is more,
An honest maid and, which is most of all,
A rich and honest maid: O Jove! O Jove!
For a man to wed such a wife as this
Is to dwell in the suburbs of heaven.

1ST GENT. Is she so exquisite?

THROAT. Sir, she is rich,
And a great heir.

2D GENT. 'Tis the more dangerous.

THROAT. Dangerous? Lord! where be those gallant spirits?
The time has been, when scarce an honest woman,
Much less a wench, could pass an inn-of-court,
But some of the fry would have been doing
With her. I knew the day, when Shreds, a tailor,
Coming once late by an inn-of-chancery,
Was laid along, and muffled in his cloak,
His wife took in, stitch'd-up, turn'd out again,
And he persuaded all was but in jest.
Tut, those brave boys are gone; these which are left
Are wary lads, live poring on their books,
And give their linen to their laundresses;
By tail they now can save their purses:[379]
I knew, when every gallant had his man,
But now a twelvepenny weekly laundress
Will serve the turn to half a dozen of them.

_Enter_ DASH.

Here comes my man; what news?

DASH. As you would wish;
The Lady Sommerfield is come to town.
Her horses yet are walking, and her men say
Her only daughter is conveyed away--
No man knows how. Now to it, master!
You and your servant Dash are made for ever,
If you but stick to it now.

THROAT. Gentlemen,
Now show yourselves at full, and not a man
But shares a fortune with me, if I speed.

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

1ST GENT. Tut, fear not us; be sure you run away,
And we'll perform the quarrel.

THROAT. Stand close: they come.

W. SMALL. Art sure he will be here?

FRAN. Most sure.

W. SMALL. Beard.

BEARD. Sir.

W. SMALL. Bear up the torch, and keep your way apace
Directly to the Savoy.

T. SMALL. Have you a licence?
Look to that, brother, before you marry,
For fear the parson lose his benefice.

W. SMALL. Tut, our curate craves no licence; he swears
His living came to him by a miracle.

BOUT. How by [a] miracle?

W. SMALL. Why, he paid nothing for't:
He swears that few be free from simony,
But only Welshmen, and those he says, too,
Are but mountain priests.

BOUT. But hang him, fool, he lies:
What's his reason?

W. SMALL. His reason is this;
That all their livings are so rude and bare,
That not a man will venture his damnation
By giving money for them: he does protest,
There is but two pair of hose and shoes
In all his parish.

1ST GENT. Hold up your light, sir.

BEARD. Shall I be taught how to advance my torch?

W. SMALL. What's the matter, lieutenant?

2D GENT. Your lieutenant's an ass.

BEARD. How, an ass? die, men, like dogs?[380] [_Draws._

W. SMALL. Hold, gentlemen.

BEARD. An ass! an ass!

THROAT. Hold, brother, hold! lieutenant.
Put up, as you are men; your wife is gone.

W. SMALL. Gone?

BOUT. Gone.

W. SMALL. How? which way? this is some plot.

T. SMALL. Down toward Fleet Bridge.

ALL. Follow, follow, follow!

1ST GENT. So has the wench; let us pursue aloof,[381]
And see the event. This will prove good mirth,
When things unshap'd shall have a perfect birth. [_Exit._

_Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS, BOUTCHER, THOMAS
SMALL-SHANKS, _and_ BEARD, _their swords drawn_.

W. SMALL. 'Tis a thing impossible they should be gone
Thus far, and we not see them.

T. SMALL. Upon my life,
They went in by the Greyhound, and so struck
Into Bridewell.

BOUT. What should she make there?

T. SMALL. Take water at the dock.

BEARD. Water at dock!
A fico for her dock! you'll not be rul'd,
You'll still be obstinate, I'll pawn my fate,
She took along Shoe Lane, and so went home.

W. SMALL. Home?

BEARD. Ay, home; how could she choose but go,
Seeing so many naked tools at once
Drawn in the street?

T. SMALL. What scurvy luck was this?

W. SMALL. Come, we will find her, or we'll fire the suburbs.
Put up your tools; let's first along Shoe Lane,
Then straight up Holborn; if we find her not,
We'll thence direct to Throat's; if she be lost,
I am undone, and all your hopes are cross'd. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ SIR OLIVER SMALL-SHANKS, JUSTICE TUTCHIN,
MISTRESS TAFFATA, ADRIANA.

O. SMALL. Widow, I must be short.

JUS. TUT. Sir Oliver,
Will you shame yourself, ha? you must be short!
Why, what a word was that to tell a widow?

O. SMALL. I meant I must be brief.

JUS. TUT. Why say so, then,
Yet that's almost as ill; go to, speak on.

O. SMALL. Widow, I must be brief; what old men do,
They must do quickly.

TAF. Then, good sir, do it;
Widows are seldom slow to put men to it.

O. SMALL. And old men know their cues: my love, you know,
Has been protested long, and now I come
To make my latest tender; an old-grown oak
Can keep you from the rain, and stands as fair
And portly as the best.

TAF. Yet search him well,
And we shall find no pith or hearty timber
To underlay a building. [_Aside._

JUS. TUT. I would that oak
Had been a-fire: forward, good Sir Oliver,
Your oak is nought: stick not too much to that.

[_Aside._

O. SMALL. If you can like, you shall be ladyfied,
Live at the court, and soon be got with child.
What, do you think we old men can do nothing?

JUS. TUT. This was somewhat like.

O. SMALL. You shall have jewels,
A baboon, parrot, and an Iceland[382] dog,
And I myself to bear you company.
Your jointure is five hundred pound by year,
Besides your plate, your chains, and household-stuff,
When envious fate shall change this mortal life.

TAF. But shall I not be overcloy'd with love?
Will you not be too busy? shall I keep
My chamber by the month, if I be pleas'd
To take physic, to send for visitants,
To have my maid read Amadis de Gaul
Or Donzel del Phoebo[383] to me I shall I have
A coach of the last edition--
The coachman's seat a good way from the coach,
That, if some other ladies and myself
Chance to talk bawdy, he may not o'erhear us?

O. SMALL. All this, and more.

TAF. Shall we have two chambers?
And will you not presume unto my bed,
Till I shall call you by my waiting-maid?

O. SMALL. Not I, by heaven!

TAF. And when I send her,
Will you not entice her to your lust,
Nor tumble her, before you come to me?

ADRI. Nay, let him do his worst, make your match sure,
And fear not me; I never yet did fear [_Aside._
Anything my master could do to me. [_Knock._

TAF. What noise is that? go, see, Adriana,
And bring me word: I am so haunted
With a swaggering captain, that swears, God bless us,

_Enter_ ADRIANA.

Like a very termagant:[384]--a rascal knave,
That says he will kill all men which seek to wed me.

ADRI. O mistress! Captain Puff, half-drunk, is now
Coming up-stairs.

O. SMALL. O God! have you no room
Beyond this chamber? h' has sworn to kill me,
And piss in my very visnomy.

TAF. What, are you afraid, Sir Oliver?

O. SMALL. Not afraid;
But of all men I love not to meddle with a drunkard:
Have you any room backwards?

TAF. None, sir.

JUS. TUT. Is there ne'er a trunk or cupboard for him?
Is there ne'er a hole backwards to hide him in?

CAPT. PUFF [_without_]. I must speak with her.

O. SMALL. O God! he comes!

ADRI. Creep under my mistress's farthingale, knight.
That's the best and safest place in the chamber.
Jus. TUT. Ay, there, there--that lie will never mistrust.

ADRI. Enter, knight, keep close; gather yourself
Round like a hedgehog; stir not, whate'er you hear
See, or smell, knight. God bless us! here he comes.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN PUFF.

CAPT. PUFF. Bless thee, widow and wife.

TAF. Sir, get you gone,
Leave my house, or I will have you conjur'd
With such a spell you never yet have heard of.
Have you no other place to vent your froth
But in my house? is this the fittest place
Your captainship can find to puff in, ha?

CAPT. PUFF. How? am I not thy spouse? didst thou not say
These arms should clip[385] thy naked body fast
Betwixt two linen sheets, and be sole lord
Of all thy pewter-work? Thy word is pass'd:
And know, that man is powder, dust and earth,
That shall once dare to think thee for his wife!

TAF. How now, you slave? One call the constable.

CAPT. PUFF. No constable with all his halberdiers
Dare once advance his head or peep up stairs,
If I cry but, keep down: have I not liv'd,
And march'd on sieged walls,
In thunder, lightning, rain, and snow,
And eke in shot of powdered balls,
Whose costly marks are yet to show?

TAF. Captain Puff, for my last husband's sake,
With whom you were so familiarly acquainted,
I am content to wink at these rude tricks;
But hence! trouble me no more; if you do,
I shall lay you fast, where you shall see
No sun or moon.

CAPT. PUFF. Nor yet the northern pole!
A fico for the sun and moon: let me live in a hole,
So these two stars may shine.

TAF. Sir, get you gone,
You swaggering cheating Turnbull Street[386] rogue,
Or I will hale you to the common gaol,
Where lice shall eat you.

CAPT. PUFF. Go to, I shall spurn
And flesh[387] your petticoat.

TAF. Run to the Counter,
Fetch me a red-bearded Serjeant:[388] I'll make
You, captain, think the devil of hell is come
To fetch you, if he once fasten on you.

CAPT. PUFF. Damn thee and thy Serjeants, thou mercer's punk,
Thus will I kick thee and thy farthingales.

[_Kicks at her petticoat._]

O. SMALL. Hold, captain!

CAPT. PUFF. What, do you cast your whelps?
What, have I found you, sir? have not I plac'd
My sakers, culverings, demi-culverings,
My cannons, demi-cannons, basilisks,
Upon her breach, and do I not stand
Ready with my pike to make my entry,
And are you come to man her?

O. SMALL. Good captain, hold.

CAPT. PUFF. Are not her bulwarks, parapets, trenches,
Scarps, counter-scarps,[389] fortifications,
Curtains, shadows, mines, counter-mines,
Rampiers,[390] forts, ditches, works, water-works,
And is not her half-moon mine? and do you bring
A rescue, goodman knight?

TAF. Call up my men.

_Enter_ O. SMALL, _and two or three others with clubs_.

Where be these knaves? bare they no ears or hearts?
Bear hence this rascal; some other fetch a warrant:
I'll teach him to know himself.

JUS. TUT. Down with the slave.

O. SMALL. Tis not your beard shall carry it; down with the rogue.

CAPT. PUFF. Not Hercules 'gainst twenty.

[_Exit_ PUFF.

JUS. TUT. Ah, sirrah!
I knew[391] my hands no longer could forbear him:
Why did you not strike the knave, Sir Oliver?

O. SMALL. Why, so I did.

JUS. TUT. But then it was too late.

O. SMALL. What would you have me do, when I was down,
And he stood thundering with his weapon drawn,

_Enter_ ADRIANA.

Ready to cut my throat?

ADRI. The rogue is gone,
And here's one from the lady Sommerfield.
To intreat you come with all the speed you can
To Saint John's Street.

JUS. TUT. Which I will do.

TAF. Gentlemen,
I am sorry you should be thus disturb'd
Within my house; but now all fear is pass'd,
You are most welcome: supper ended,
I'll give a gracious answer to your suit;
Meanwhile, let nought dismay or keep you mute. [_Exit._

_Enter_ THROAT, FRANCES, _and_ DASH.

THROAT. Pay the coachman, Dash, pay him well,
And thank him for his speed. Now _Vivat Rex_,
The knot is knit, which not the law itself,
With all his Hydra-heads and strongest nerves.
Is able to disjoin: now let him hang,
Fret out his guts, and swear the stars from heaven--
He never shall enjoy you; you shall be rich.
Your lady-mother this day came to town
In your pursuit: we will but shift some rags,
And straight go take her blessing.

FRAN. That must not be;
Furnish me with jewels, and then myself,
Attended by your man and honest Beard,
Will thither first, and with my lady-mother
Crave a peace for you.

THROAT. I like that well;
Her anger somewhat calm'd, I brisk and fine,
Some half hour after will present myself
As son-in-law unto her, which she must needs
Accept with gracious looks.

FRAN. Ay, when she knows
Before by me, from what an eminent plague
Your wisdom has preserv'd me.

THROAT. Ay, that, that--
That will strike it dead. But here comes Beard.

_Enter_ BEARD.

BEARD. What, are you sure I tied fast by heart and hand?

THROAT. I now do call her wife, she now is mine,
Seal'd and deliver'd by an honest priest
At Saint Giles's in the Fields.

BEARD. God give you joy, sir.

THROAT. But where's mad Small-shanks?

BEARD. O, hard at hand,
And almost mad with loss of his fair bride;
Let not my lovely mistress be seen;
And see, if you can draw him to compound
For all his title to her: I have serjeants,
Ready to do the feat, when time shall serve.

THROAT. Stand you aside, dear love[392]; nay, I will firk
My silly novice, as he was never firk'd,
Since midwives bound his noddle: here they come.

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

W. SMALL. O Master Throat, unless you speak good news,
My hopes are cross'd, and I undone for ever!

THROAT. I never thought you'd come to other end;
Your courses have been always so profane,
Extravagant and base.

W. SMALL. Nay, good sir, hear:
Did not my love return? came she not hither?
For Jove's love, speak.

THROAT. Sir, will you get you gone,
And seek your love elsewhere? for know, my house
Is not to entertain such customers
As you and your comrades.

W. SMALL. Is the man mad
Or drunk? Why, Master Throat, know you to whom
You talk so saucily?

THROAT. Why, unto you
And to your brother Small-shanks: will you be gone?

BOUT. Nay, good sir, hold us not in this suspense;
Answer directly: came not the virgin hither?

THROAT. Will you be gone directly? are you mad?
Come you to seek a virgin in Ram-Alley,
So near an inn-of-court, and amongst cooks,
Ale-men, and laundresses? why, are you fools?

W. SMALL. Sir, leave this firk of law, or, by this light,
I'll give your throat a slit. Came she not hither?
Answer to that point.

THROAT. What, have you lost her?
Come, do not gull your friends.

W. SMALL. By heaven, she's gone,
Unless she be return'd since we last left you.

THROAT. Nay, then, I cry you mercy; she came not hither,
As I am an honest man: is't possible,
A maid so lovely fair, so well-demean'd,
Should be took from you? what, you three--
So young, so brave, and valiant gentlemen--
Sure, it cannot be!

T. SMALL. Afore God, 'tis true.

W. SMALL. To our perpetual shame, 'tis now too true.

THROAT. Is she not left behind you in the tavern?
Are you sure you brought her out? were you not drunk,
And so forgot her?

W. SMALL. A pox on all such luck!
I will find her, or, by this good light,
I'll fire all the city. Come, let's go:
Whoever has her shall not long enjoy her,
I'll prove a contract; let us walk the round.
I'll have her, if she keep above the ground. [_Exit._

THROAT. Ha, ha, ha! he makes me sport, i' faith.
The gull is mad, stark-mad. Dash, draw the bond,
And a release of all his interest
In this my loved wife.

BEARD. Ay, be sure of that,
For I have certain goblins in buff jerkins[393]

_Re-enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS _with the Serjeants_.

Lie in ambuscado for him.

OFFICER. I arrest you, sir.

W. SMALL. Rescue! rescue!

THROAT. O, he is caught.

W. SMALL. I'll give you bail:
Hang off, honest catchpoles. Master Throat, good, wise,
Learned and honest Master Throat, now, now--
Now or never, help me.

THROAT. What's the matter?

W. SMALL. Here are two retainers, hangers-on, sir,
Which will consume more than ten liveries;
If by your means they be not straight shook off--
I am arrested.

THROAT. Arrested! what's the sum?

W. SMALL. But thirteen pounds, due to Beard the butler:
Do but bail me, and I will save you harmless.

THROAT. Why, here's the end of it[394]: I know the law;
If you be bail'd by me, the debt is mine,
Which I will undertake--

W. SMALL. La[395] there, rogues:
Foot! I knew he would not let me want
For thirteen pounds.

THROAT. Provided you seal a release
Of all your claim to Mistress Sommerfield.

W. SMALL. Serjeants, do your kind: hale me to the hole.
Seal a release? Serjeants, come: to prison!
Seal a release for Mistress Sommerfield?
First I will stink in jail, be eat with lice,
Endure an object worse than the devil himself,
And that's ten Serjeants peeping through the grates
Upon my lousy linen. Come to jail:
Foot, a release!

T. SMALL. There's no conscience in it.

BOUT. 'Tis a demand uncharitable.

THROAT. Nay, choose.

_Enter_ FRANCES.

FRAN. I can hold no longer; impudent man--

W. SMALL. My wife! foot! my wife! let me go, serjeants.

FRAN. O thou perfidious man! dar'st thou presume
To call her wife, whom thou so much hast wrong'd?
What conquest hast thou got to wrong a maid,
A silly harmless maid? what glory is't,
That thou hast thus deceived a simple virgin,
And brought her from her friends? what honour was't
For thee to make the butler lose his office,
And run away with thee! Your tricks are known;
Didst thou not swear thou shouldst be baronis'd?
And hadst both lands and fortunes, both which thou want'st?

W. SMALL. Foot, that's not my fault: I would have lands,
If I could get 'em.

FRAN. I know your tricks;
And know I now am wife unto this man.

OMNES. How?

THROAT. I thank her, sir, she has now vouchsaf'd
To cast herself on me.

FRAN. Therefore subscribe;
Take somewhat of him for a full release,
And pray to God to make you an honest man:
If not, I do protest by earth and heaven,
Although I starve, thou never shalt enjoy me.

BEARD. Her vow is pass'd, nor will she break her word;
Look to it, micher.

FRAN. I hope he will compound.

W. SMALL. Foot, shall I give two thousand pounds a year
For nothing?

T. SMALL. Brother, come: be rul'd by me.
Better to take a little than lose all.

BOUT. You see she's resolute; y'had best compound.

W. SMALL. I'll first be damn'd, ere I will lose my right,
Unless he give me up my forfeit mortgage,
And bail me of this action.

FRAN. Sir, you may choose:
What is the mortgage worth?

W. SMALL. Let's have no whispering.

THROAT. Some forty pounds a year.

FRAN. Do it, do it.
Come, you shall do it, we will be rid of him
At any rate.

THROAT. Dash, go fetch his mortgage. [_Exit_ DASH.
So that your friends be bound, you shall not claim
Title, right, possession, in part or whole,
In time to come, in this my loved wife:
I will restore the mortgage, pay this debt,
And set you free.

W. SMALL. They shall not.

BOUT. We will.
Come, draw the bonds, and we will soon subscribe them.

_Enter_ DASH.

THROAT. They're ready-drawn; here's his release:
Serjeants, let him go.

DASH. Here's the mortgage, sir.

W. SMALL. Was ever man thus cheated of a wife!
Is this my mortgage?

THROAT. The very same, sir.

W. SMALL. Well, I will subscribe. God give you joy,
Although I have but little cause to wish it,
My heart will scarce consent unto my hand.
'Tis done.

THROAT. You give this as your deed?

OMNES. We do.

THROAT. Certify them, Dash.

W. SMALL. What! am I free?

THROAT. You are: serjeants, I discharge you.
There's your fees.

BEARD. Not so; I must have money.

THROAT. I'll pass my word.

BEARD. _Foutre!_ words are wind:
I say, I must have money.

THROAT. How much, sir?

BEARD. Three pounds in hand, and all the rest to-morrow.

THROAT. There's your sum. Now, officers, be gone,
Each take his way; I must to Saint John's Street,
And see my lady-mother: she's now in town,
And we to her shall straight present our duties.

T. SMALL. O Jove! shall we lose the wench thus?

W. SMALL. Even thus.
Throat, farewell: since 'tis thy luck to have her,
I still shall pray you long may live together.
Now each to his affairs.

THROAT. Good night to all.
[_Exeunt_ W.S., T.S., _and_ BOUT.
Dear wife, step in. Beard and Dash, come hither:
Here take this money: go borrow jewels
Of the next goldsmith: Beard, take thou these books,
Go both to the broker's in Fetter Lane,
Lay them in pawn for a velvet jerkin
And a double ruff: tell him, he shall have
As much for a loan to-night, as I do give
Usury for a whole circuit; which done,
You two shall man her to her mother's: go.
[_Exeunt_ BEARD _and_ DASH.
My fate looks big! methinks I see already
Nineteen gold chains, seventeen great beards, and ten
Reverend bald heads, proclaim my way before me.
My coach shall now go prancing through Cheapside,
And not be forc'd to hurry through the streets
For fear of serjeants; nor shall I need to try,
Whether my well-grass'd tumbling foot-cloth nag
Be able to outrun a well-breath'd catch-pole.
I now in pomp will ride, for 'tis most fit,
He should have state, that riseth by his wit. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[375] [The Mitre Tavern in Bread Street, Cheapside, was a celebrated tavern at this time. From the present passage we learn that there was a second house so called in Fleet Street thus early.]

[376] [The image of his father.]

[377] _i.e._, Called.

[378] _Trenchmore_ was a dance, of which (says Sir John Hawkins, in his "History of Music," iv. 391) "frequent mention is made by our old dramatic writers. Thus, in the 'Island Princess' of Beaumont and Fletcher, act v., one of the Townsmen says--

'All the windows of the town dance a new _trenchmore._'

In the 'Table Talk' of Selden, title _King of England_, is the following humorous passage:--'The Court of England is much altered. At a solemn dancing, first, you had the grave measures, then the corantoes and the galliards, and this is kept up with ceremony; at length to _trenchmore_ and the cushion-dance: and then all the company dance, lord and groom, lady and kitchen-maid, no distinction. So in our Court ... in King Charles's time, there has been nothing but _trenchmore_ and the cushion-dance, omnium gatherum, tolly polly, hoite cum toite.' And in the comedy of 'The Rehearsal,' the earth, sun, and moon are made to dance the hey to the tune of _trenchmore_. From all which it may be inferred that the _trenchmore_ was a lively movement."

The _trenchmore_ is also mentioned in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Pilgrim," act iv. sc. 3.

[379] [A double meaning is intended here, as the laundresses of the inns were not always very remarkable for chastity.]

[380] This expression is used by Pistol in the "Second Part of Henry IV.," act ii. sc. 4--

"_Die men like dogs_; give crowns like pins,
Have we not Hiren here?"

[381] [At a distance.]

[382] Or, as it was sometimes called, an _Island_, or _Isling_. So in "The Queen of Corinth," act iv. sc. 1--

"Hang, hair, like hemp, or like the _Isling cur's_."

Again, in Massinger's "Picture," act v. sc. 1--

"Would I might lie
Like a dog under her table, and serve for a footstool,
So I might have my belly full of that
Her _Iceland cur_ refuses."

Abraham Fleming, in his tract "Of Englishe Dogges, the diversities, the names, the natures, and the properties," 1576, speaks of the introduction of _Iceland dogs_, and describes them. "Use and custome hath intertained other dogges of an outlandish kinde, but a few, and the same being of a pretty bygnesse, I meane _Iseland dogges_, curled and rough al over, which by reason of the length of their heare, make showe neither of face nor of body. And yet these curres, forsoothe, because they are so straunge, are greatly set by, esteemed, taken vp, and made of, many times in the roome of the Spaniell, gentle or comforter."--_Collier._ [Sig. F 4. Fleming's book is, however, only a translation from Caius, "De Canibus Britannicis."]

[383] Heroes of romance. [By "Donzel del Phoebo" the lady intends, I conclude, the "Knight of the Sun," or the "Mirror of Knighthood."]

[384] Tarmagant or Termagant was, as Dr Percy observes, a Saracen deity, very clamorous and violent in the old moralities. He is frequently mentioned and alluded to in our ancient dramas and poems. Bishop Hall's "Satires" begin thus--

"Not Ladies' wanton love, nor wand'ring knight,
Legend I out in rhimes all richly dight;
Nor fright the reader with the Pagan vaunt
Of mightie _Mahound_ and great _Termagaunt_."

Mr Tyrwhitt says, the character is to be met with in an old romance, MSS. Bod. 1624, where it is constantly spelt _Tervagan_. (See notes to Chaucer, v. 13,741.)

See also "King and no King," act iv., and "Rule a Wife and have a Wife," act v.

Again, Hamlet says, "I would have such a fellow whipt for o'erdoing _Termagant_."

See notes on this passage, edit. 1778; also Warton's Observations on Spenser, ii. 226; [Bishop Percy's folio MS., ii. 467; and Nares, 1859, arts. Termagant and Trivigant.]

[385] Embrace.

[386] [A locality notorious for bad characters.]

[387] [Pierce it with my sword. Edits., _slash_.]

[388] See note to "The Spanish Tragedy," [v. 121.]

[389] [Edits., _scarfs, counter-scarfs_.]

[390] [Ramparts. A common form.]

[391] Before printed _know_, adhering to the error of the edition of 1636.--_Collier._

[392] To Frances, who probably places herself out of view, or perhaps makes her _exit_, which, however, is not marked.--_Collier._

[393] The dress of the serjeants at that time.

[394] [Edits., _riot_.]

[395] [Edits., _Law_.]

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 1.

_Enter_ SIR OLIVER, JUSTICE TUTCHIN, TAFFATA,
_and_ ADRIANA.

OLIVER. Good meat the belly fills, good wine the brain;
Women please men, men pleasure them again:
Ka me, ka thee: one thing must rub another:
English love Scots, Welshmen love each other.

JUS. TUT. You say very right, Sir Oliver, very right;
I have't in my noddle, i' faith. That's all the fault
Old justices have; when they are at feasts,
They will bib[396] hard; they will be fine sunburnt,
Sufficient fox'd or columber'd, now and then.
Now could I sit in my chair at home, and nod
A drunkard to the stocks by virtue of
The last statute rarely[397].

TAF. Sir, you are merry.

JUS. TUT. I am indeed.

TAF. Your supper, sir, was light;
But I hope you think you're welcome.

JUS. TUT. I do.
A light supper; quoth you? pray God it be,
Pray God I carry it cleanly, I am sure it lies
As heavy in my belly as molt lead;
Yet I'll go see my sister Sommerfield.

OLIVER. So late, good Justice?

JUS. TUT. Aye, even so late.
Night is the mother of wit, as you may see
By poets or rather constables
In their examinations at midnight.
We'll lie together without marrying,
Save the curate's fees[398] and the parish a labour;
'Tis a thriving course.

OLIVER. That may not be,
For excommunications then will flee.

JUS. TUT. That's true, they fly indeed like wild geese
In flocks, one in the breech of another;
But the best is, a small matter stays them.
And so farewell.

OLIVER. Farewell, good Justice Tutchin.
[_Exit_ JUSTICE TUTCHIN.
Alas, good gentleman, his brains are crazed,
But let that pass. Speak, widow, is't a match?
Shall we clap it up?

ADRI. Nay, if't come to clapping,
Good night, i' faith. Mistress, look before you,
There's nothing more dangerous to maid or widow
Than sudden clappings-up; nothing hath spoiled
So many proper ladies as clappings-up.
Your shittle-cock, striding from tables to ground,
Only to try the strength of the back:
Your riding a hunting--ay, though they fall
With their heels upward, and lay as if
They were taking the height of some high star
With a cross-staff; no, nor your jumblings
In horselitters, coaches or carouches[399],
Have spoiled so many women as clappings-up.

OLIVER. Why, then, we'll chop it up.

TAF. That's not allowed,
Unless you were son to a Welsh curate.
But faith, sir knight, I have a kind of itching
To be a lady; that, I can tell you, wooes,
And can persuade with better rhetoric
Than oaths, wit, wealth, valour, lands, or person:
I have some debts at Court, and, marrying you,
I hope the courtiers will not stick to pay me.

OLIVER. Never fear thy payment. This I will say
For courtiers, they'll be sure to pay each other,
Howe'er they deal with citizens.

TAF. Then here's my hand;
I am your wife, condition we be joined
Before to-morrow's sun.

OLIVER. Nay, even to-night,
So you be pleas'd. With little warning, widow,
We old men can be ready, and thou shalt see,
Before the time that chanticleer
Shall call, and tell the day is near:
When wenches, lying on their backs,
Receive with joy their love-stol'n smacks;
When maids, awak'd from their first sleep,
Deceiv'd with dreams, begin to weep,
And think, if dreams such pleasure know,
What sport the substance them would show;
When a lady 'gins[400] white limbs to spread,
Her love but new-stol'n to her bed,
His cotton shoes yet scarce put off,
And dares not laugh, speak, sneeze, or cough;
When precise dames begin to think,
Why their gross louring[401] husbands stink;
What pleasure 'twere then to enjoy,
A nimble vicar or a boy;
Before this time thou shalt behold
Me quaffing out our bridal bowl[402].

ADRI. Then, belike, before the morning sun
You will be coupled?

TAF. Yes, faith, Adriana.

ADRI. Well, I will look you shall have a clean smock,
Provided that you pay the fee, Sir Oliver.
Since my mistress, sir, will be a lady,
I'll lose no fees due to the waiting-maid.

OLIVER. Why, is there a fee belonging to it?

ADRI. A knight, and never heard of smock-fees?
I would I had the monopoly of them,
So there were no impost set upon them.

_Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS.

OLIVER. Whom have we here? what, my mad-headed son;
What makes he here so late? Say I am gone;
And I the whilst will step behind the hangings.

W. SMALL. God bless thee, parcel of man's flesh.

TAF. How, sir?

W. SMALL. Why, parcel of man's flesh! art not a woman?
But, widow, where's the old stinkard my father?
They say, widow, you dance altogether
After his pipe.

TAF. What then?

W. SMALL. Th' art a fool,
I'll assure thee there's no music in it.

TAF. Can you play better?

W. SMALL. Better, widow?
Blood, dost think I have not learnt my prick-song?
What, not the court prick-song? One up and another down:
Why, I have't to a hair; by this light,
I hope thou lovest him not.

TAF. I'll marry him, sir.

W. SMALL. How? marry him! foot, art mad, widow?
Woo't marry an old crazed man
With meagre looks, with visage wan,
With little legs and crinkled thighs,
With chap-fall'n gums and deep-sunk eyes?
Why, a dog, seiz'd on ten days by death,
Stinks not so loathsome as his breath;
Nor can a city common jakes,
Which all mens' breeches undertakes,
Yield fasting stomachs such a savour,
As doth his breath and ugly favour.

OLIVER. Rogue! [_Aside._

ADRI. That's all one, sir; she means to be a lady.

W. SMALL. Does she so? and thou must be her waiting-woman?
Faith, thou wilt make a fine dainty creature,
To sit at a chamber-door, and look fleas
In my lady's dog, while she is shewing
Some slippery-breech'd courtier rare faces
In a bay[403]-window. Foot, widow,
Marry me--a young and complete gallant.

TAF. How a complete gallant? what? a fellow
With a hat tuck'd up behind, and, what we use
About our hips to keep our coats from dabbling,
He wears about his neck--a farthingale!
A standing collar to keep his neat band clean,
The whilst his shirt doth stink, and is more foul
Than an inn-of-chancery table-cloth:
His breeches must be plaited, as if he had
Some thirty pockets, when one poor half-penny purse
Will carry all his treasure; his knees all points,
As if his legs and hams were tied together;
A fellow that has no inside, but prates
By rote, as players and parrots use to do,
And, to define a complete gallant right,
A mercer form'd him, a tailor makes him,
A player gives him spirit.

W. SMALL. Why, so in my conscience to be a countess
Thou wouldst marry a hedge-hog: I must confess,
'Tis state to have a coxcomb kiss your hands,
While yet the chamber-lie[404] is scarce wip'd off;
To have an upright usher march before you
Bare-headed in a tuftafata jerkin,
Made of your old cast gown, shows passing well,
But when you feel your husband's pulse, that's hell;
Then you fly out, and bid strait smocks farewell.

TAF. I hope, sir, whate'er our husbands be,
We may be honest.

W. SMALL. May be! may, y' are:
Women and honesty are so near allied,
As parsons' lives are to their doctrines--
One and the same. But, widow, now be rul'd;
I hope the heavens will give thee better grace
Than to accept the father, and I yet live
To be bestowed: if you wed the stinkard,
You shall find the tale of Tantalus
To be no fable, widow.

OLIVER. How I sweat! [_Aside._
I can hold no longer. [_Comes out._] Degenerate bastard!
I here disclaim thee, cashier thee; nay, more,
I disinherit thee both of my love
And living: get thee a grey cloak and hat,
And walk in Paul's[405] among thy cashier'd mates
As melancholy as the best.

TAF. Come not near me,
I forbid thee my house, my out-houses,
My garden, orchard, and my back-side[406];
Thou shalt not harbour near me.

[_Exeunt_ TAFFATA _and_ ADRIANA.

OLIVER. Nay, to thy grief
Know, varlet, I will be wed this morning,
Thou shalt not be there, nor once be grac'd
With a piece of rosemary[407]. I[408] cashier thee.
Do not reply: I will not stay to hear thee.

[_Exit_ SIR OLIVER.

W. SMALL. Now may I go put me on a clean shirt,
And hang myself. Foot, who would have thought
The fox had earth'd so near me; what's to be done?
What miracle shall I now undertake
To win respective[409] grace with God and men?
What, if I turn'd courtier and liv'd honest?
Sure, that would do: I dare not walk the streets,
For I dwindle at a serjeant in buff
Almost as much as a new player does
At a plague-bill certified forty.[410]
Well, I like this widow: a lusty plump drab:
Has substance both in breech and purse,
And pity and sin it were she should be wed
To a furr'd cloak and a night-cap. I'll have her:
This widow I will have: her money
Shall pay my debts, and set me up again.
'Tis here, 'tis almost forg'd, which if it take,
The world shall praise my wit, admire my fate. [_Exit._

_Enter_ BEARD, DASH, FRANCES, SERJEANT,
DRAWER.

BEARD. Serjeants, beware; be sure you not mistake,
For if you do--

DASH. She shall be quickly bail'd,
She shall _corpus cum causa_ be remov'd;
Your action entered first below shall shrink,
And you shall find, sir serjeant, she has friends
Will stick to her in the common place.

SER. Sir,
Will you procure her bail?

BEARD. She shall be bail'd.
Drawer, bring up some wine, use her well,
Her husband is a gentleman of sort.

SER. A gentleman of sort! why, what care I?
A woman of her fashion shall find
More kindness at a lusty serjeant's hand
Than ten of your gentlemen of sort.

DASH. Sir, use her well: she's wife to Master Throat.

SER. I'll use her, sir, as if she were my wife:
Would you have any more?

BEARD. Drink upon that,
Whilst we go fetch her bail. Dash, fellow Dash,
With all the speed thou hast, run for our master;
Make haste, lest he be gone, before thou comest,
To Lady Sommerfield's: I'll fetch another;
She shall have bail.

DASH. And a firking writ
Of false imprisonment; she shall be sure
Of twelvepence damage, and five-and-twenty pound
For suits in law: I'll go fetch my master.

BEARD. And I another.

[_Exeunt_ BEARD _and_ DASH.

SER. Drawer, leave the room.
Here, mistress, a health!

FRAN. Let it come, sweet rogue.

[_The_ DRAWER _stands aside_.

DRAWER. Ay, say you so? then must I have an eye;
These serjeants feed on very good reversions,
On capons, teals, and sometimes on a woodcock,
Hot from the shrieve's own table[411]; the knaves feed well,
Which makes them horrid lechers.

FRAN. This health is pledg'd;
And, honest serjeant, how does Master Gripe,
The keeper of the Counter? I do protest,
I found him always favourable to me,
He is an honest man; has often stood to me,
And been my friend; and let me go o' trust
For victual, when he has denied it knights. But come,
Let's pay, and then be gone: th' arrest, you know,
Was but a trick to get from nimble Dash,
My husband's man.

SER. True: but I have an action
At suit of Mistress Smell-smock, your quondam bawd:
The sum is eight good pound for six weeks' board,
And five weeks' loan for a red taffata gown,
Bound with a silver lace.

FRAN. I do protest,
By all the honesty 'twixt thee and me,
I got her in that gown in six weeks' space
Four pound, and fourteen pence given by a clerk
Of an inn-of-chancery that night I came
Out of her house; and does the filthy jade
Send to me for money?[412] But, honest serjeant,
Let me go, and say thou didst not see me,
I'll do thee as great a pleasure shortly.

SER. Shall we embrace to-night?

FRAN. With all my heart.

SER. Sit on my knee, and kiss.

_Enter_ BEARD.

BEARD. What news, boy? why stand you sentinel?

DRAWER. Do but conceal yourself, and we shall catch
My serjeant napping.

BEARD. Shall maids be here deflowered?

SER. Now kiss again.

DRAWER. Now, now.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN, _and seeing the hurly-burly, runs away_.

BEARD. Deflower virgins! rogue I avaunt, ye slave,
Are maids fit subjects for a serjeant's mace?
So now are we once more free: there's for the wine.

[_Exit_ SERJEANT.

Now to our rendezvous: three pounds in gold
These slops[413] contain; we'll quaff in Venice glasses[414],
And swear some lawyers are but silly asses.

[_Exeunt_ BEARD _and_ FRANCES.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN FACE.

CAPT. FACE. Is the coast clear? Are these combustions ceas'd?
And may we drink canary sack in peace?
Shall we have no attendance here, you rogues?
Where be these rascals that skip up and down
Faster than virginal jacks?[415] Drawers!

DRAWER. Sir!

CAPT. FACE. On whom wait you, sir rogue?

DRAWER. Faith, captain,
I attend a conventicle of players.

CAPT. FACE. How, players? what is there e'er a cuckold among them?

DRAWER. Jove defend else; it stands with policy,
That one should be a notorious cuckold,
If it be but for the better keeping
The rest of his company together.

CAPT. FACE. When did you see Sir Theophrastus Slop,
The city dog-master?

DRAWER. Not to-day, sir.

CAPT. FACE. What have you for my supper?

DRAWER. Nothing ready,
Unless you please to stay the dressing, captain.

CAPT. FACE. Zounds! stay the dressing! you damned rogue,
What, shall I wait upon your greasy cook,
And wait his leisure? go down stairs, rogue;
Now all her other customers be serv'd,
Ask, if your mistress have a snip of mutton
Yet left for me.

DRAWER. Yes, sir.