Chapter XI: Act III: , Scene 1

_Enter_ HUSBAND _and_ SUBTLE.

SUB. She's a rare wife, believe it, sir: were all such,
We never should have false inheritors.

HUS. Pish! friend, there is no woman in the world
Can hold out in the end, if youth, shape, wit,
Met in one subject, do assault her aptly;
For failing once, you must not faint, but try
Another way: the paths of women's minds
Are crooked and diverse; they have byways
To lead you to the palace of their pleasures,
And you must woo discreetly. First, observe
The disposition of her you attempt:
If she be spriteful and heroical,
Possess her that you are valiant, and have spirit:
Talk nothing but of beating every man,
That is your hinderance; though you do not do it,
Or dare not, 'tis no matter. Be she free
And of a liberal soul, give bounteously
To all the servants; let your angels fly
About the room, although you borrow'd 'em.
If she be witty, so must your discourse:
Get wit, what shift soe'er you make for it,
Though't cost you all your land; and then a song
Or two is not amiss, although you buy 'em:
There's many in the town will furnish you.

SUB. But still, I tell you, you must use her roughly.
Beat her face black and blue, take all her clothes,
And give them to some punk: this will be ground
For me to work upon.

HUS. All this I have done.
I have left her now as bare that, should I die,
Her fortune, o' my conscience, would be
To marry some tobacco-man: she has nothing
But an old black-work waistcoat, which would serve
Exceeding well to sit i' th' shop, and light
Pipes for the lousy footmen. And, sweet friend,
First here's a jewel to present her; then,
Here is a sonnet writ against myself,
Which as thine own thou shalt accost her with.
Farewell, and happy success attend thee! [_Exit._

SUB. Ha, ha, ha! [_He reads._
_Fairest, still wilt thou be true_
_To man so false to thee?_
_Did he lend a husband's due,_
_Thou didst owe him loyalty;_
_But will curses, wanton[97] blows_
_Breed no change in thy white soul?_
_Be not a fool to thy first vows,_
_Since his first breach doth thy faith control._
_No beauty else could be so chaste;_
_Think not thou honour'st woman then,_
_Since by thy conscience all disgrac'd_
_Are robb'd of the dear loves of men._
_Then grant me my desire, that vow to prove_
_A real husband, his adulterate love."_

Took ever man more pains to be a cuckold!
O monstrous age, where men themselves, we see,
Study and pay for their own infamy.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ INGEN, MAID, LORD PROUDLY, BROTHER _like a woman: swords drawn_.

PROUDLY. Give me my sister! I'll have her forth thy heart.

INGEN. No earthly lord can pull her out of that,
Till he have pluck'd my heart first out. My lord,
Were't not inhospitable, I could wrong you here
In my own house. I am so full of woe
For your lost sister, that by all my joys
Hoped for in her, my heart weeps tears of blood:
A whiter virgin and a worthier
Had ne'er creation; Leda's swan was black
To her virginity and immaculate thoughts.

PROUDLY. Where hast thou hid her? give her me again;
For, by the God of vengeance, be she lost,
The female hate shall spring betwixt our names
Shall never die, while one of either house
Survives: our children shall, at seven years old,
Strike knives in one another.

INGEN. Let hell gape
And take me quick, if I know where she is;
But am so charg'd with sorrow for her loss,
Being the cause of it (as no doubt I am),
That I had rather fall upon my sword
[_Offering to kill himself._
Than breathe a minute longer.

BRO. O sir! hold.

PROUDLY. Thou shalt not need; I have a sword to bathe
In thy false blood, inhumane murderer.

MAID. Good sir, be pacified: I'll go, I'll run
Many a mile to find your sister out.
She never was so desperate of grace
By violence to rob herself of life,
And so her soul endanger. Comfort, sir;
She's but retired somewhere, on my life.

INGEN. Prythee, let me alone--
[_To his brother._
Do I stand to defend that wretched life,
That is in doubt of hers? here, worthy lord,
Behold a breast fram'd of thy sister's love;
Hew it, for thou shalt strike but on a stock,
Since she is gone that was the cause it liv'd.

PROUDLY. Out, false dissembler! art not married?

INGEN. No; behold it is my younger brother dress'd;
[_Plucks of his head-tire._
A man, no woman, that hath gull'd the world,
Intended for a happier event
Than this that follow'd, that she now is gone.
O fond experiments of simple man!
Fool to thy fate, since all thy project, meant
But mirth, is now converted unto death.

MAID. O, do not burst me, joy! that modesty [_Aside._
Would let me show myself to finish all!

PROUDLY. Nay, then thou hast my sister somewhere, villain!
'Tis plain now thou wilt steal thy marriage.
She is no match for thee, assure thyself.
If all the law in England or my friends
Can cross it, 't shall not be.

INGEN. Would 'twere so well,
And that I knew the lady to be safe!
Give me no ill-words. Sir, this boy and I
Will wander like two pilgrims till we find her.
If you do love her as you talk, do so:
The love or grief that is express'd in words,
Is slight and easy; 'tis but shallow woe
That makes a noise; deep'st waters stillest go.
I love her better than thy parents did,
Which is beyond a brother.

PROUDLY. Slave! thou liest.

INGEN. Zounds! [_About to strike._

BRO. Kill him!

MAID. O, hold! Sir, you dishonour much your brother
To counsel him 'gainst hospitality
To strike in his own house.

INGEN. You, lord insolent, I will fight with you:
Take this as a challenge, and set your time.

PROUDLY. To-morrow morning, Ingen;
'Tis that I covet, and provoke thee for.

BRO. Will you not strike him now?

INGEN. No; my good boy
Is both discreet and just in his advice.
Thy glories are to last but for a day:
Give me thy hand;
To-morrow morning thou shalt be no lord.

PROUDLY. To-morrow noon thou shalt not be at all.

INGEN. Pish! why should you think so? have not I arms,
A soul as bold as yours, a sword as true?
I do not think your honour in the field,
Without your lordship's liveries, will have odds.

PROUDLY. Farewell, and let's have no excuses, pray.
[_Exit_ PROUDLY.

INGEN. I warrant you. Pray, say your prayers to-night,
And bring an[98] inkhorn w' ye, to set your hand to
A satisfactory recantation. [_Exit._

MAID. O wretched maid! whose sword can I pray for?
But by the other's loss I must find death.
O odious brother, if he kill my love!
O bloody love, if he should kill my brother!
Despair on both sides of my discontent
Tells me no safety rests but to prevent. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ WIDOW _and_ BOLD _like_ PRINCOX.

WID. What's o'clock, Princox?

BOLD. Bedtime, an't please you, madam.

WID. Come, undress me. Would God had made me a man!

BOLD. Why, madam?

WID. Because
I would have been in bed as soon as they.
We are so long unpinning and unlacing.

BOLD. Yet many of us, madam, are quickly undone sometime: but herein we have the advantage of men, though they can be abed sooner than we, it's a great while, when they are abed, ere they can get up.

WID. Indeed, if they be well-laid, Princox, one cannot get them up again in haste.

BOLD. O God! madam, how mean you that? I hope you know, ill things taken into a gentlewoman's ears are the quick corrupters of maiden modesty. I would be loth to continue in any service unfit for my virgin estate, or where the world should take any notice of light behaviour in the lady I follow; for, madam, the main point of chastity in a lady is to build the rock of a good opinion amongst the people by circumstances, and a fair show she must make. _Si non caste, tamen caute_, madam; and though wit be a wanton, madam, yet I beseech your ladyship, for your own credit and mine, let the bridle of judgment be always in the chaps of it, to give it head or restrain it, according as time and place shall be convenient.

WID. Precise and learned Princox, dost not thou go to Blackfriars?

BOLD. Most frequently, madam, unworthy vessel that I am to partake or retain any of the delicious dew that is there distilled.

WID. But why shouldst thou ask me, what I meant e'en now? I tell thee, there's nothing uttered but carries a double sense,[99] one good, one bad; but if the hearer apply it to the worst, the fault lies in his or her corrupt understanding, not in the speaker; for to answer your Latin, _pravis omnia prava_. Believe me, wench, if ill come into my fancy, I will purge it by speech: the less will remain within. A pox of these nice-mouthed creatures! I have seen a narrow pair of lips utter as broad a tale as can be bought for money. Indeed, an ill tale unuttered is like a maggot in a nut, it spoils the whitest kernel.

BOLD. You speak most intelligently, madam.

WID. Hast not done yet? Thou art an old fumbler, I perceive. Methinks thou dost not do things like a woman.

BOLD. Madam, I do my endeavour, and the best can do no more; they that could do better, it may be would not, and then 'twere all one. But rather than be a burthen to your ladyship, I protest sincerely, I would beg my bread; therefore I beseech you, madam, to hold me excused, and let my goodwill stand for the action.

WID. Let thy goodwill stand for the action? If goodwill would do it, there's many a lady in this land would be content with her old lord; and thou canst not be a burthen to me, without thou lie upon me, and that were preposterous in thy sex. Take no exceptions at what I say. Remember you said _stand_ even now. There was a word for one of your coat, indeed!

BOLD. I swear, madam, you are very merry. God send you good luck. Has your ladyship no waters that you use at bedtime?

WID. No, in troth, Princox.

BOLD. No complexion!

WID. None but mine own, I swear. Didst thou ever use any?

BOLD. No, indeed, madam; now and then a piece of scarlet, or so; a little white and red ceruse; but, in troth, madam, I have an excellent receipt for a nightmask as ever you heard.

WID. What is it?

BOLD. Boar's grease one ounce; Jordan almonds, blanched and ground, a quartern; red rosewater, half a pint; mare's urine, newly covered, half a score drops.

WID. Fogh! no more of thy medicine, if thou lovest me. Few of our knights-errant, when they meet a fair lady-errant in a morning, would think her face had lain so plastered all night. Thou hast had some apothecary to thy sweetheart. But, leaving this face-physic (for, by my troth, it may make others have good ones, but it makes me a scurvy one), which of all the gallants in the town wouldst thou make a husband of, if thou mightst have him for thy choosing?

BOLD. In troth, madam, but you'll say I speak blindly, but let my love stand aside----

WID. I think it not fit, indeed, your love should stand in the middle.

BOLD. I say, Master Bold. O, do but mark him, madam; his leg, his hand, his body, and all his members stand in print.

WID. Out upon thee, Princox! No. Methinks Welltried's a handsome fellow. I like not these starched gallants: masculine faces and masculine gestures please me best.

BOLD. How like you Master Pert?

WID. Fie upon him! when he is in his scarlet clothes, he looks like a man of wax, and I had as lief have a dog o' wax: I do not think but he lies in a case o' nights. He walks as if he were made of gins[100]--as if Nature had wrought him in a frame: I have seen him sit discontented a whole play, because one of the purls of his band was fallen out of his reach to order again.[101]

BOLD. Why, Bold, madam, is clean contrary.

WID. Ay, but that's as ill: each extreme is alike vicious; his careful carelessness is his study. He spends as much time to make himself slovenly, as the other to be spruce. His garters hang over upon the calves of his legs, his doublet unbuttoned, and his points untrussed; his hair in's eyes like a drunkard, and his hat, worn on the[102] hinder-part of his head, as if he cared more for his memory than his wit, makes him look as if he were distracted. Princox, I would have you lie with me: I do not love to lie alone.

BOLD. With all my heart, madam.

WID. Are you clean-skinned?

BOLD. Clean-skinned, madam? there's a question! do you think I have the itch? I am an Englishwoman: I protest, I scorn the motion.

WID. Nay, prythee, Princox, be not angry: it's a sign of honesty, I can tell you.

BOLD. Faith, madam, I think 'tis but simple honesty that dwells at the sign of the scab.

WID. Well, well, come to bed, and we'll talk further of all these
matters. [_Exit._

BOLD. Fortune, I thank thee; I will owe thee eyes
For this good turn! now is she mine indeed.
Thou hast given me that success my project hop'd.
Off, false disguise, that hast been true to me,
And now be Bold, that thou may'st welcome be. [_Exit._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_ WHOREBANG, BOTS,[103] TEARCHAPS, SPILLBLOOD, _and_ DRAWER: _several patches on their faces_.

TEAR. Damn me, we will have more wine, sirrah, or we'll down into the cellar, and drown thee in a butt of Malmsey, and hew all the hogsheads in pieces.

WHORE. Hang him, rogue! shall he die as honourable as the Duke of Clarence? by this flesh, let's have wine, or I will cut thy head off, and have it roasted and eaten in Pie Corner next Bartholomew-tide.

DRAWER. Gentlemen, I beseech you consider where you are--Turnbull Street--a civil place: do not disturb a number of poor gentlewomen. Master Whorebang, Master Bots, Master Tearchaps, and Master Spillblood, the watch are abroad.

SPILL. The watch! why, you rogue, are not we kings of Turnbull?

DRAWER. Yes, marry are ye, sir: for my part, if you'll be quiet, I'll have a sign made of ye, and it shall be called the four kings of Turnbull.

BOTS. Will you fetch us wine?

WHORE. And a whore, sirrah?

DRAWER. Why, what d'ye think of me? am I an infidel, a Turk, a pagan, a Saracen? I have been at Bess Turnup's, and she swears all the gentlewomen went to see a play at the Fortune,[104] and are not come in yet, and she believes they sup with the players.

TEAR. Damn me, we must kill all those rogues: we shall never keep a whore honest for them.

BOTS. Go your ways, sirrah. We'll have but a gallon apiece, and an ounce of tobacco.

DRAWER. I beseech you, let it be but pottles.[105]

SPILL. 'Sheart! you rogue. [_Exit_ DRAWER.

_Enter_ WELLTRIED _and_ LORD FEESIMPLE.

WHORE. Master Welltried! welcome as my soul.

_Enter_ DRAWER, _with wine, plate and tobacco_.

BOTS. Noble lad, how dost thou?

SPILL. As welcome as the tobacco and the wine, boy.

TEAR. Damn me, thou art.

FEE. Bless me (save you, gentlemen), they have not one face among 'em! I could wish myself well from them: from them: I would I had put out something upon my return; I had as lief be at Barmuthoes.[106]

WELL. Pray, welcome this gentleman.

SPILL. Is he valiant? [_Aside._

WELL. Faith, he's a little faulty that way; somewhat of a bashful and backward nature, yet I have brought him amongst you, because he hath a great desire to be fleshed.

[_Aside._

FEE. Yes, faith, sir, I have a great desire to be fleshed; now Master Welltried said he would bring me to the only fleshmongers in the town.

WELL. Sir, he cannot endure the sight of steel. [_Aside._

WHORE. Not steel? zounds! [_Claps his sword over the table._

FEE. Now I am going! [_Faints._

BOTS. Here's to you, sir. I'll fetch you again with a cup of sack.

FEE. I pledge you, sir, and begin to you in a cup of claret.

WELL. Hark you, my lord: what will you say if I make you beat all these out of the room?

[_Aside._

FEE. What will I say? why, I say it is impossible; 'tis not in mortal man.

[_Aside._]

WELL. Well, drink apace: if any brave you, outbrave him; I'll second you. They are a company of cowards, believe me.

[_Aside._]

FEE. By this light, I would they were else: if I thought so, I would be upon the jack[107] of one of 'em instantly, that same little Damn me. But, Master Welltried, if they be not very valiant, or dare not fight, how came they by such cuts and gashes, and such broken faces? [_Aside._]

WELL. Why, their whores strike 'em with cans and glasses, and quart-pots: if they have nothing by 'em, they strike 'em with the pox, and you know that will lay one's nose as flat as a basket-hilt dagger.

[_Aside._]

FEE. Well, let me alone. [_Aside._]

TEAR. This bully dares not drink.

FEE. Dare I not, sir?

WELL. Well said; speak to him, man.

FEE. You had best try me, sir.

SPILL. We four will drink four healths to four of the seven deadly sins, pride, drunkenness, wrath, and lechery.

FEE. I'll pledge 'em, and I thank you; I know 'em all. Here's one.

WHORE. Which of the sins?

FEE. By my troth, even to pride.

WELL. Why, well said; and in this do not you only pledge your mistress's health, but all the women's in the world.

FEE. So: now this little cup to wrath, because he and I are strangers.

TEAR. Brave boy! damn me, he shall be a roarer.

FEE. Damn me, I will be a roarer, or't shall cost me a fall.

BOTS. The next place that falls, pray, let him have it.

FEE. Well, I have two of my healths to drink yet--lechery and drunkenness, which even shall go together.

WELL. Why, how now, my lord, a moralist?

BOTS. Damn me, art thou a lord? what virtues hast thou?

FEE. Virtues? enough to keep e'er a damn-me company in England: methinks you should think it virtue enough to be a lord.

WHORE. Will not you pledge these healths, Master Welltried? we'll have no observers.

WELL. Why, Monsieur Whorebang? I am no playmaker[108], and, for pledging your healths, I love none of the four you drank to so well.

SPILL. Zounds! you shall pledge me this.

WELL. Shall I?

FEE. What's the matter? dost hear, Master Welltried, use thine own discretion; if thou wilt not pledge him, say so, and let me see if e'er a damn-me of 'em all will force thee.

SPILL. Puff! will your lordship take any tobacco? you lord with the white face.

BOTS. Heart! he cannot put it through his nose.

FEE. Faith, you have ne'er a nose to put it through; d'ye hear I blow your face, sirrah.

TEAR. You'll pledge me, sir?

WELL. Indeed, I will not.

FEE. Damn me, he shall not then.[109]

TEAR. Lord, use your own words, _damn me_ is mine; I am known by it all the town o'er, d'ye hear?

FEE. It is as free for me as you, d'ye hear, Patch?[110]

TEAR. I have paid more for't.

WELL. Nay, I'll bear him witness in a truth: his soul lies for't,[111] my lord.

SPILL. Welltried, you are grown proud since you got good clothes and have followed your lord.

[_Strikes, and they scuffle._

WHORE. I have known you lousy, Welltried.

WELL. Roarer, you lie. [_Draw and fight; throw pots and stools._

DRAWER. O Jesu!

ALL SWAGGERERS. Zounds! cleave or be cleft: pell-mell: slash arms and legs.

FEE. Heart! let me alone with 'em.

[_Break off, and exeunt all the_ SWAGGERERS.

WELL. Why, now thou art a worthy wight, indeed, a Lord of Lorn.[112]

FEE. I am a madman: look, is not that one of their heads?

WELL. Fie! no, my lord.

FEE. Damn me, but 'tis; I would not wish you to cross me a'purpose: if you have anything to say to me, so--I am ready.

WELL. O brave lord! many a roarer thus is made by wine. Come, it is one of their heads, my lord.

FEE. Why so, then, I will have my humour. If you love me, let's go break windows somewhere.

WELL. Drawer, take your plate. For the reckoning there's some of their cloaks: I will be no shot-log to such.

DRAWER. God's blessing o' your heart for thus ridding the house of them.

[_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[97] [Old copy, _wants, and_.]

[98] [Old copy, _no_.]

[99] Both the old copies read, _that carries a double sense_, but it
is clearly a misprint.

[100] The Widow means that Master Pert walks as if he were made of
_wires_, and _gins_ were usually composed of wire.

[101] So in "The Fatal Dowry," Liladam exclaims, "Uds light! my lord,
one of the purls of your band is, without all discipline, fallen out
of his rank," act ii. sc. 2. These little phrases may assist in
tracing the authorship of different parts of a play by distinct
authors.

[102] [Old copy, _his_.]

[103] [This name, given to one of the _roarers_, is a corruption of
_pox_. We often meet with the form in the old plays.]

[104] The _Fortune_ Theatre [in Golden Lane] was built in 1599 by
Edward Allen, the founder of Dulwich College, at an expense of £520,
and in the Prologue of Middleton and Dekker's "Roaring Girl" it is
called "a _vast_ theatre." It was eighty feet square, and was consumed
by fire in 1621.

[105] A pottle was half a gallon.

[106] He means that he wishes he had _insured_ his return, as he would
as willingly be at the Bermudas, or (as it was then called) "The Isle
of Devils." In a note on "the still vexed Barmoothes" ("Tempest," act
i. sc. 2), it is shown that _the Bermudas_ was a cant name for the
privileged resort of such characters as Whorebang and his companions.

The notions entertained by our ancestors of the Bermudas is distinctly
shown in the following extract from Middleton's "Anything for a Quiet
Life," 1662, act v.; [Dyce's edit., iv. 499.] _Chamlet_ is troubled
with a shrewish wife, and is determined to leave England and go
somewhere else. He says--

"The place I speak of has been kept with thunder,
With frightful lightnings' amazing noises;
But now (the enchantment broke) 'tis the land of peace,
Where hogs and tobacco yield fair increase. . .
Gentlemen, fare you well, I am for the Bermudas."

[107] "The _jack_, properly, is a coat of mail, but it here means a
buff _jacket_ or _jerkin_ worn by soldiers or pretended soldiers."

[108] These words have reference, perhaps, to Middleton and Rowley's
curious old comedy of manners, "A Faire Quarrel," 1617 and 1622. The
second edition contains "new additions of Mr Chaugh, and Trimtram's
_roaring_." These two persons, empty pretenders to courage, set up a
sort of academy for instruction in the art and mystery of _roaring_ or
bullying, and much of the piece is written in ridicule of it and its
riotous professors. Whorebang calls these playmakers _observers_, as
if suspecting that Welltried and Feesimple came among them for the
purpose of making notes for a play. In Webster and Rowley's "Cure for
a Cuckold," 1661, act iv. sc. 1, there is another allusion to the
"Faire Quarrel," where Compass uses the words _Tweak_ and
_Bronstrops_, adding, "I learnt that name in a play." Chaugh and
Trimtram, in the "Faire Quarrel," undertake also to give lessons in
the _cant_ and _slang_ of the time. In other respects, excepting as a
picture of the manners of the day, that play possesses little to
recommend it.

[109] In both the old copies this remark is erroneously given to
Tearchaps.

[110] _Patch_ and _fool_ are synonymous in old writers. Feesimple
alludes also to the patch on the face of Tearchaps.

[111] That is, his soul _lies in pawn_ for employing the oath.

[112] [The hero of an early heroic ballad so called. See Hazlitt,
in _v_.]