Chapter XV: Introduction (2)

SCAT. Save you, gallants, save you.

LONG. How think you now? have I not carved him out to you?

STAINES. Thou hast lighted me into his heart; I see him thoroughly.

SCAT. Ninnihammer!

NIN. Sir.

SCAT. Take my cloak and rapier also: I think it be early. Gentlemen, what time do you take it to be?

STAINES. Inclining to eleven, sir.

SCAT. Inclining! a good word. I would it were inclining to twelve, for by my stomach it should be high noon. But what shall we do, gallants? shall we to cards till our company come?

LONG. Please you, sir.

SCAT. Harry, fetch some cards; methinks 'tis an unseemly sight to see gentlemen stand idle. Please you to impart your smoke?

LONG. Very willingly, sir.

SCAT. In good faith, a pipe of excellent vapour.

LONG. The best the house yields.

SCAT. Had you it in the house? I thought it had been your own: 'tis not so good now as I took it to be.[178] Come, gentlemen, what's your game?

STAINES. Why, gleek; that's your only game.

SCAT. Gleek let it be, for I am persuaded I shall gleek some of you. Cut, sir.

LONG. What play we? twelvepence gleek?

SCAT. Twelvepence? a crown: ud's foot! I will not spoil my memory for twelvepence.

LONG. With all my heart.

STAINES. Honour.

SCAT. What is't, hearts?

STAINES. The king! what say you?

LONG. You must speak, sir.

SCAT. Why, I bid thirteen.

STAINES. Fourteen.

SCAT. Fifteen.

STAINES. Sixteen.

LONG. Sixteen, seventeen.

STAINES. You shall ha't for me.

SCAT. Eighteen.

LONG. Take it to you, sir.

SCAT. Ud's life! I'll not be outbraved.

STAINES. I vie it.

LONG. I'll none of it.

SCAT. Nor I.

STAINES. Give me a murnival of aces and a gleek of queens.

LONG. And me a gleek of knaves.

SCAT. Ud's life! I'm gleeked this time.

_Enter_ WILL RASH.

STAINES. Play.

W. RASH. Equal fortunes befall you, gallants.

SCAT. Will Rash: well, I pray see what a vile game I have.

W. RASH. What's your game--gleek?

SCAT. Yes, faith, gleek; and I have not one court card but the knave of clubs.

W. RASH. Thou hast a wild hand, indeed. Thy small cards show like a troop of rebels, and the knave of clubs their chief leader.

SCAT. And so they do, as God save me: by the cross of this silver, he says true.

_Enter_ SPENDALL.

STAINES. Pray, play, sir.

LONG. Honour.

W. RASH. How go the stocks, gentlemen? what's won or lost?

STAINES. This is the first game.

SCAT. Yes, this is the first game; but, by the cross of this silver, here's all of five pounds.

SPEND. Good day to you, gentlemen.

W. RASH. Frank, welcome, by this hand; how dost, lad?

SPEND. And how does thy wench, faith?

W. RASH. Why, fat and plump, like thy geldings; thou giv'st them both good provender, it seems. Go to, thou art one of the madd'st wags of a citizen i' th' town: the whole company talks of thee already.

SPEND. Talk! why, let 'em talk; ud's foot! I pay scot and lot, and all manner of duties else, as well as the best of 'em. It may be they understand I keep a whore, a horse, and a kennel of hounds; what's that to them? no man's purse opens for it but mine own; and so long my hounds shall eat flesh, my horse bread, and my whore wear velvet.

W. RASH. Why, there spoke a courageous boy.

SPEND. Ud's foot! shall I be confined all the days of my life to walk under a pent-house? No, I'll take my pleasure whilst my youth affords it.

SCAT. By the cross of these hilts, I'll never play at gleek again, whilst I have a nose on my face: I smell the knavery of the game.

SPEND. Why, what's the matter? who has lost?

SCAT. Marry, that have I. By the hilts of my sword, I have lost forty crowns in as small time almost as a man might tell it.

SPEND. Change your game for dice: we are a full number for Novem.[179]

SCAT. With all my heart. Where's Master Ambush the broker? Ninnihammer.

NIN. Sir.

SCAT. Go to Master Ambush, and bid him send me twenty marks upon this diamond.

_Enter_ BUBBLE.

NIN. I will, sir.

LONG. Look ye, to make us merrier, who comes here?

W. RASH. A fresh gamester? Master Bubble, God save you.

BUB. _Tu quoque_.

STAINES. Save you, sir.

BUB. _Et tu quoque_.

LONG. Good Master Bubble.

BUB. _Et tu quoque_.

SCAT. Is your name Master Bubble?

BUB. Master Bubble is my name, sir.

SCAT. God save you, sir.

BUB. _Et tu quoque_.

SCAT. I would be better acquainted with you.

BUB. And I with you.

SCAT. Pray, let us salute again.

BUB. With all my heart, sir.

LONG. Behold yonder the oak and the ivy, how they embrace.

W. RASH. Excellent acquaintance! they shall be the Gemini.

BUB. Shall I desire your name, sir.

SCAT. Master Scattergood.

BUB. Of the Scattergoods of London.

SCAT. No indeed, sir. Of the Scattergoods of Hampshire.

BUB. Good Master Scattergood.

STAINES. Come, gentlemen, here's dice.

SCAT. Please you, advance to the table?

BUB. No indeed, sir.

SCAT. Pray, will you go?

BUB. I will go, sir, over the world for your sake, but in courtesy I will not budge a foot.

_Enter_ NINNIHAMMER.

NIN. Here is the cash you sent me for: and, Master Rash, here is a letter from one of your sisters.

SPEND. I have the dice; set, gentlemen.

LONG. From which sister?

W. RASH. From the madcap, I know by the hand.

SPEND. For me, six.

OMNES. And six that.

STAINES. Nine; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8: eighteen shillings.

SPEND. What's yours, sir?

SCAT. Mine's a baker's dozen. Master Bubble, tell your money.

BUB. In good faith, I am but a simple gamester, and do not know what to do.

SCAT. Why, you must tell your money, and he'll pay you.

BUB. My money! I do know how much my money is, but he shall not pay me; I have a better conscience than so: what, for throwing the dice twice? i' faith, he should have but a hard bargain of it.

W. RASH. Witty rascal! I must needs away.

LONG. Why, what's the matter?

W. RASH. Why, the lovers cannot agree: thou shalt along with me, and know all.

LONG. But first let me instruct thee in the condition of this gentleman: whom dost thou take him to be?

W. RASH. Nay, he's a stranger, I know him not.

LONG. By this light, but you do, if his beard were off: 'tis Staines.

W. RASH. The devil it is as soon! and what's his purpose in this disguise?

LONG. Why, cheating; do you not see how he plays upon his worshipful master and the rest?

W. RASH. By my faith, he draws apace.

SPEND. A pox upon these dice! give's a fresh bale.[180]

BUB. Ha, ha! the dice are not to be blamed; a man may perceive this is no gentlemanly gamester, by his chafing. Do you hear, my friend? fill me a glass of beer, and there's a shilling for your pains.

DRAWER. Your worship shall, sir.

W. RASH. Why, how now, Frank! what hast lost?

SPEND. Fifteen pounds and upwards: is there never an honest fellow?

AMB. What, do you lack money, sir?

SPEND. Yes, canst furnish me?

AMB. Upon a sufficient pawn, sir.

SPEND. You know my shop; bid my man deliver you a piece of three-pile velvet, and let me have as much money as you dare adventure upon't.

AMB. You shall, sir.

SPEND. A pox of this luck! it will not last [for] ever. Play, sir, I'll set you.

W. RASH. Frank, better fortune befall thee; and, gentlemen, I must take my leave, for I must leave you.

SCAT. Must you needs be gone?

W. RASH. Indeed I must.

BUB. _Et tu quoque?_

LONG. Yes, truly.

SCAT. At your discretions, gentlemen.

W. RASH. Farewell. [_Exeunt_ RASH _and_ LONGFIELD.

STAINES. Cry you mercy, sir. I am chanced with you all. Gentlemen: here I have 7, here 7, and here 10.

SPEND. 'Tis right, sir, and ten that.

BUB. And nine that.

STAINES. Two fives at all. [_Draws all._

BUB. One and five that.

SPEND. Hum! and can a suit of satin cheat so grossly? By this light, there's nought on one die but fives and sixes. I must not be thus gulled. [_Aside._

BUB. Come, Master Spendall, set.

SPEND. No, sir, I have done.

SCAT. Why, then let us all leave, for I think dinner's near ready.

DRAWER. Your meat's upon the table.

SCAT. On the table! come, gentlemen, we do our stomachs wrong. Master Bubble, what have you lost.

BUB. That's no matter: what I have lost, I have lost; nor can I choose but smile at the foolishness of the dice.

STAINES. I am but your steward, gentlemen; for after dinner I may restore it again.

BUB. Master Scattergood, will you walk in?

SCAT. I'll wait upon you, sir. Come, gentlemen, will you follow?

[_Exeunt._

_Manent_ SPENDALL _and_ STAINES.

STAINES. Yes, sir, I'll follow you.

SPEND. Hear you, sir, a word.

STAINES. Ten, if you please.

SPEND. I have lost fifteen pounds.

STAINES. And I have found it.

SPEND. You say right; found it you have, indeed,
But never won it. Do you know this die?

STAINES. Not I, sir.

SPEND. You seem a gentleman, and you may perceive
I have some respect unto your credit
To take you thus aside. Will you restore
What you have drawn from me unlawfully?

STAINES. Sirrah, by your outside you seem a citizen,
Whose cock's-comb I were apt enough to break,
But for the law. Go, y' are a prating jack:
Nor is't your hopes of crying out for clubs
Can save you from my chastisement, if once
You shall but dare to utter this again.

SPEND. You lie; you dare not.

STAINES. Lie! nay, villain, now
Thou tempt'st me to thy death.

SPEND. Soft, you must buy it dearer;
The best blood flows within you is the price.

STAINES. Dar'st thou resist? thou art no citizen.

SPEND. I am a citizen.

STAINES. Say thou art a gentleman, and I am satisfied;
For then I know thou'lt answer me in field.

SPEND. I'll say directly what I am, a citizen;
And I will meet thee in the field as fairly
As the best gentleman that wears a sword.[181]

STAINES. I accept it: the meeting-place?

SPEND. Beyond the Maze in Tuttle.[182]

STAINES. What weapon?

SPEND. Single rapier.

STAINES. The time?

SPEND. To-morrow.

STAINES. The hour?

SPEND. 'Twixt nine and ten.

STAINES. 'Tis good; I shall expect you. Farewell.

SPEND. Farewell, sir. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ WILL RASH, LONGFIELD, _and_ JOYCE.

W. RASH. Why, I commend thee, girl; thou speak'st as thou think'st. Thy tongue and thy heart are relatives; and thou wert not my sister, I should at this time fall in love with thee.

JOYCE. You should not need, for, and you were not my brother, I should fall in love with you, for I love a proper man with my heart, and so does all the sex of us, let my sister dissemble never so much. I am out of charity with these nice and squeamish tricks. We were born for men, and men for us; and we must together.

W. RASH. This same plain-dealing is a jewel in thee.

JOYCE. And let me enjoy that jewel, for I love plain-dealing with my heart.

W. RASH. Th' art a good wench, i' faith. I should never be ashamed to call thee sister, though thou shouldst marry a broom-man. But your lover, methinks, is over-tedious.

_Enter_ GERALDINE.

JOYCE. No, look ye, sir; could you wish a man to come better upon his cue?[183] Let us withdraw.

W. RASH. Close, close, for the prosecution of the plot, wench. See, he prepares.

JOYCE. Silence.

GERA. The sun is yet wrapp'd in Aurora's arms,
And, lull'd with her delight, forgets us[184] creatures.
Awake, thou god of heat,
I call thee up, and task[185] thee for thy slowness.
Point all thy beams through yonder flaring glass,
And raise a beauty brighter than thyself. [_Music._
Musicians, give each instrument a tongue,
To breathe sweet music in the ears of her
To whom I send it as a messenger.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _aloft_.

GERT. Sir, your music is so good, that I must say I like it: but the bringer so ill-welcome, that I could be content to lose it. If you played for money, there 'tis; if for love, here's none; if for goodwill, I thank you, and, when you will, you may be gone.

GERA. Leave me not entranc'd; sing not my death;
Thy voice is able to make satyrs tame,
And call rough winds to her obedience.

GERT. Sir, sir, our ears itch not for flattery.
Here you besiege my window, and[186] I dare not
Put forth myself to take the gentle air,
But you are in the fields, and volley out
Your woes, your plaints, your loves, your injuries.

GERA. Since you have heard, and know them, give redress;
True beauty never yet was merciless.

GERT. Sir, rest thus satisfied; my mind was never woman, never altered; nor shall it now begin: so fare you well.

[_Exit_ GERTRUDE.

W. RASH. 'Sfoot, she plays the terrible tyrannising Tamberlane over him. This it is to turn Turk; from a most absolute, complete gentleman to a most absurd, ridiculous, and fond lover. [_Aside._]

LONG. O, when a woman knows the power and authority of her eye!----

[_Aside._]

JOYCE. Fie upon her! she's good for nothing then, no more than a jade that knows his own strength. The window is clasped; now, brother, pursue your project, and deliver your friend from the tyranny of my domineering sister. [_Aside._]

W. RASH. Do you hear, you drunkard in love? Come into us, and be ruled. You would little think that the wench that talked so scurvily out of the window there is more enamoured on thee than thou on her. Nay, look you now: see if he turn not away, slighting our good counsel. I am no Christian if she do not sigh, whine, and grow sick for thee. Look you, sir: I will bring you in good witness against her.

JOYCE. Sir, you are
My brother's friend, and I'll be plain with you.
You do not take the course to win my sister,
But indirectly go about the bush; you come
And fiddle here, and keep a coil in verse;
Hold off your hat, and beg to kiss her hand;
Which makes her proud.
But, to be short; in two lines, thus it is--
Who most doth love, must seem most to neglect it;
For those that show most love, are least respected.

LONG. A good observation, by my faith.

W. RASH. Well, this instruction comes too late now.
Stand you close, and let me prosecute my invention.--[187]
Sister, O sister! wake, arise, sister.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _above_.

GERT. How now, brother; why call you with such terror?

W. RASH. How can you sleep so sound, and hear such groans,
So horrid and so tedious to the ear, that I
Was frighted hither by the sound? O sister,
Here lies a gentleman that lov'd you too dearly
And himself too ill, as by his death appears.
I can report no farther without tears.
Assist me now. [_Aside to_ LONGFIELD.

LONG. When he came first, death startled in his eyes;
His hand had not forsook the dagger-hilt,
But still he gave it strength, as if he fear'd
He had not sent it home unto his heart.

GERT. Enough, enough!
If you will have me live, give him no name;
Suspicion tells me 'tis my Geraldine:
But be it whom it will, I'll come to him,
To suffer death as resolute as he. [_Exit_ GERTRUDE.

W. RASH. Did not I tell you 'twould take?
Down, sir, down.[188]

GERA. I guess what you'd have me do.

LONG. O, for a little blood to besprinkle him!

W. RASH. No matter for blood, I'll not suffer her to come near him till the plot have ta'en his full height.

GERA. A scarf o'er my face, lest I betray myself.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_.

W. RASH. Here, here, lie still, she comes.
Now, Mercury, be propitious.

GERT. Where lies this spectacle of blood?
This tragic scene?

W. RASH. Yonder lies Geraldine.

GERT. O, let me see him with his face of death!
Why do you stay me from my Geraldine?

W. RASH. Because, unworthy as thou art, thou shalt not see
The man now dead, whom living thou didst scorn.
The worst part that he had deserv'd thy best;
But yet contemn'd, deluded, mock'd, despis'd by you,
Unfit for aught but for the general work
Which you were made for, man's creation.

GERT. Burst not my heart, before I see my love,
Brother, upon my knees, I beg your leave,
That I may see the wound of Geraldine:
I will embalm his body with my tears,
And carry him unto his sepulchre.
From whence I'll never rise, but be interr'd
In the same dust he shall be buried in.

LONG. I do protest she draws sad tears from me.
I prythee, let her see her Geraldine. [_Aside._

GERT. Brother, if e'er you lov'd me as a sister,
Deprive me not the sight of Geraldine.

W. RASH. Well, I am contented you shall touch his lips,
But neither see his face nor yet his wound.

GERT. Not see his face?

W. RASH. Nay, I have sworn it to the contrary:
Nay, hark you, farther yet.

GERT. What now?

W. RASH. But one kiss--no more.

GERT. Why, then, no more.

W. RASH. Marry, this liberty I'll give you:
If you intend to make any speech of repentance
Over him, I am content, so it be short.

GERT. What you command is law, and I obey.

JOYCE. Peace, give ear to the passion. [_Aside._]

GERT. Before I touch thy body, I implore
Thy discontented ghost to be appeas'd.
Send not unto me, till I come myself;
Then shalt thou know how much I honour'd thee,
O, see the colour of his coral lip
Which, in despite of death, lives full and fresh,
As when he was the beauty of his sex!
'Twere sin worthy the worst of plagues to leave thee;
Not all the strength and policy of man
Shall snatch me from thy bosom.

LONG. Look, look; I think she'll ravish him! [_Aside._

W. RASH. Why, how now, sister?

GERT. Shall we have both one grave; here I am chain'd;
Thunder nor earthquakes shall e'er shake me off.

W. RASH. No? I'll try that. [_Aside._] Come, dead man, awake! up with your bag and baggage, and let's have no more fooling.

GERT. And lives my Geraldine?

W. RASH. Live! faith, ay;
Why should he not? he was never dead
That I know on.

GERA. It is no wonder Geraldine should live,
Though he had emptied all his vital spirits.
The lute of Orpheus spake not half so sweet,
When he descended to th' infernal vaults,
To fetch again his fair Eurydice,
As did thy sweet voice unto Geraldine.

GERT. I'll exercise that voice, since it doth please
My better self, my constant Geraldine.

JOYCE. Why so, la, here's an end of an old song!
Why could not this have been done before,
I pray?

GERT. O, y' are a goodly sister, this is your plot.
Well, I shall live one day to requite you.

JOYCE. Spare me not: for wheresoever I set my affection, although it be upon a collier, if I fall back, unless it be in the right kind, bind me to a stake, and let me be burned to death with charcoal.

W. RASH. Well, thou art a mad wench, and there's no more to be done at this time, but, as we brought you together, so to part you: you must not lie at rack and manger; there be those within that will forbid the banns: time must shake good-fortune by the hand before you two must be great; 'specially you, sister. Come, leave swearing.

GERT. Must we then part?

W. RASH. Must you part! why, how think you? ud's foot! I do think we shall have as much to do to get her from him as we had to bring her to him. This love of women is of strange quality, and has more tricks than a juggler. [_Aside._]

GERT. But this, and then farewell.

GERA. Thy company[189] is heaven, thy absence hell.

W. RASH. Lord, who'd think it? [_Aside._]

JOYCE. Come, wench. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ SPENDALL _and_ STAINES. _Tothill Fields_.

SPEND. This ground is firm and even, I'll go no farther.

STAINES. This be the place then; and prepare you, sir;
You shall have fair play for your life of me,
For, look, sir, I'll be open-breasted to you.

SPEND. Shame light on him that thinks
His safety lieth in a French doublet.
Nay, I would strip myself, would comeliness
Give sufferance to the deed, and fight with thee
As naked as a Mauritanian Moor.

STAINES. Give me thy hand; by my heart, I love thee.
Thou art the highest-spirited citizen
That ever Guildhall took notice of.

SPEND. Talk not what I am, until you have tried me.

STAINES. Come on, sir. [_They fight._

SPEND. Now, sir, your life is mine.

STAINES. Why then, take it, for I'll not beg it of thee.

SPEND. Nobly resolv'd, I love thee for those words.
Here, take thy arms again, and, if thy malice
Have spent itself like mine, then let us part
More friendly than we met at first encounter.

STAINES. Sir, I accept
This gift of you, but not your friendship,
Until I shall recover 't with my honour.

SPEND. Will you fight again, then?

STAINES. Yes.

SPEND. Faith, thou dost well, then,
Justly to whip my folly. But come, sir.

STAINES. Hold: y' are hurt, I take it.

SPEND. Hurt! where? zounds, I feel it not.

STAINES. You bleed, I am sure.

SPEND. 'Sblood, I think you wear a cat's-claw upon your rapier's
point:
I am scratched indeed: but, small as 'tis,
I must have blood for blood.

STAINES. Y' are bent to kill, I see.

SPEND. No, by my hopes; if I can 'scape that sin,
And keep my good name, I'll never offer't.

STAINES. Well, sir, your worst.

SPEND. We both bleed now, I take it;
And, if the motion may be equal thought
To part with clasp'd hands, I shall first subscribe.

STAINES. 'Twere unmanliness in me to refuse
The safety of us both; my hand shall never fall
From such a charitable motion.

SPEND. Then join we both, and here our malice ends:
Though foes we came to th' field, we'll depart friends.
[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ SIR LIONEL _and a_ SERVANT.

SIR LIONEL. Come, come, follow me, knave, follow me; I have the best nose i' the house, I think: either we shall have rainy weather, or the vault's unstopped. Sirrah, go see; I would not have my guests smell out any such inconvenience. Do you hear, sirrah Simon?

SER. Sir.

SIR LIONEL. Bid the kitchen-maid scour the sink, and make clean her backside, for the wind lies just upon't.

SER. I will, sir.

SIR LIONEL. And bid Anthony put on his white fustian doublet, for he must wait to-day. [_Exit_ SERVANT.] It doth me so much good to stir and talk, to place this and displace that, that I shall need no apothecaries' prescriptions. I have sent my daughter this morning as far as Pimlico,[190] to fetch a draught of Derby ale,[191] that it may fetch a colour in her cheeks: the puling harlotry looks so pale, and it is all for want of a man, for so their mother would say (God rest her soul) before she died. [_Exit._

_Enter_ BUBBLE, SCATTERGOOD, STAINES, _and_ SERVANT.

SER. Sir, the gentlemen are come already.

SIR LIONEL. How, knave? the gentlemen?

SER. Yes, sir: yonder they are.

SIR LIONEL. God's precious! we are too tardy: let one be sent presently to meet the girls, and hasten their coming home quickly. How, dost thou stand dreaming! [_Exit_ SERVANT.] Gentlemen, I see you love me, you are careful of your hour; you may be deceived in your cheer, but not in your welcome.

BUB. Thanks, and _Tu quoque_ is a word for all.

SCAT. A pretty concise room; Sir Lionel, where are your daughters?

SIR LIONEL. They are at your service, sir, and forthcoming.

BUB. God's will, Gervase! how shall I behave myself to the gentlewomen?

STAINES. Why, advance yourself toward them with a comely step; and in your salute be careful you strike not too high nor too low: and afterward, for your discourse, your _Tu quoque_ will bear you out.

BUB. Nay, and that be all, I care not, for I'll set a good face on't, that's flat: and for my nether parts, let them speak for themselves. Here's a leg; and ever a baker in England show a better, I'll give him mine for nothing.

STAINES. O, that's a special thing that I must caution you of.

BUB. What, sweet Gervase?

STAINES. Why, for commending yourself: never, whilst you live, commend yourself; and then you shall have the ladies themselves commend you.

BUB. I would they would else.

STAINES. Why, they will, I'll assure you, sir; and the more vilely you speak of yourself, the more will they strive to collaud you.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ JOYCE.

BUB. Let me alone to dispraise myself: I'll make myself the errantest coxcomb within a whole country.

SIR LIONEL. Here come the gipsies, the sun-burnt girls,
Whose beauties will not utter them alone;
They must have bags, although my credit crack for't.

BUB. Is this the eldest, sir?

SIR LIONEL. Yes, marry is she, sir.

BUB. I'll kiss the youngest first, because she likes me best.[192]

SCAT. Marry, sir, and whilst you are there, I'll be here. [_Kisses the elder._] O delicious touch! I think in conscience her lips are lined quite through with orange-tawny velvet.

BUB. They kiss exceeding well; I do not think but they have been brought up to't. I will begin to her, like a gentleman, in a set speech. Fair lady, shall I speak a word with you?

JOYCE. With me, sir?

BUB. With you, lady;--this way,--a little more,--
So, now 'tis well; umh--
Even as a drummer,--or a pewterer----

JOYCE. Which of the two, no matter,
For one beats on a drum, t'other a platter.

BUB. In good faith, sweet lady, you say true;
But pray, mark me farther: I will begin again.

JOYCE. I pray, sir, do.

BUB. Even as a drummer, as I said before,
Or as a pewterer----

JOYCE. Very good, sir.

BUB. Do--do--do.

JOYCE. What do they do?

BUB. By my troth, lady, I do not know; for to say truth, I am a kind
of an ass.

JOYCE. How, sir? an ass?

BUB. Yes, indeed, lady.

JOYCE. Nay, that you are not.

BUB. So God ha' me, I am, lady: you never saw
An erranter ass in your life.

JOYCE. Why, here's a gentleman, your friend, will not say so.

BUB. I' faith, but he shall: how say you, sir? Am not I an ass?

SCAT. Yes, by my troth, lady, is he. Why, I'll say anything my
brother
Bubble says. [_Aside._]

GERT. Is this the man my father chose for me,
To make a husband of? O God, how blind
Are parents in our loves! so they have wealth,
They care not to what things they marry us.

BUB. Pray, look upon me, lady.

JOYCE. So I do, sir.

BUB. Ay, but look upon me well, and tell me if ever you saw any man
look so scurvily as I do?

JOYCE. The fellow, sure, is frantic. [_Aside._]

BUB. You do not mark me.

JOYCE. Yes, indeed, sir.

BUB. Ay, but look upon me well:
Did you ever see a worse-timber'd leg?

JOYCE. By my faith, 'tis a pretty four-square leg.

BUB. Ay, but your four-square legs are none of the best. O Gervase,
Gervase! [_Aside._]

STAINES. Excellent well, sir.

BUB. What say you now to me, lady? Can you find
E'er a good inch about me?

JOYCE. Yes, that I can, sir.

BUB. Find it and take it, sweet lady. There I think I bobbed her,
Gervase. [_Aside._]

JOYCE. Well, sir, disparage not yourself so:
For, if you were the man you'd make yourself,
Yet out of your behaviour and discourse
I could find cause enough to love you.

BUB. Ah! now she comes to me. [_Aside._] My behaviour! alas, alas! 'tis clownical; and my discourse is very bald--bald; you shall not hear me break a good jest in a twelvemonth.

JOYCE. No, sir? why, now you break a good jest.

BUB. No, I want the _bon jour_ and the _Tu quoques_ which yonder gentleman has. There's a bob for him too. [_Aside._] There's a gentleman, an you talk of a gentleman!

JOYCE. Who, he? he's a coxcomb, indeed.

BUB. We are sworn brothers, in good faith, lady.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

SCAT. Yes, in truth, we are sworn brothers, and do mean to go both alike, and to have horses alike.

JOYCE. And they shall be sworn brothers, too?

SCAT. If it please them, lady.

SER. Master Balance the goldsmith desires to speak with you.

SIR LIONEL. Bid him come, knave.

SCAT. I wonder, Sir Lionel, your son, Will Rash, is not here.

SIR LIONEL. Is he of your acquaintance, sir?

SCAT. O, very familiar: he struck me a box o' th' ear once, and from thence grew my love to him.

_Enter_ BALANCE.

SIR LIONEL. It was a sign of virtue in you, sir; but he'll be here at dinner. Master Balance, what makes you so strange? Come, you're welcome; what's the news?

BAL. Why, sir, the old news: your man Francis riots still;
And little hope of thrift there is in him.
Therefore I come to advise your worship
To take some order while there's something left:
The better part of his best ware's consum'd.

SIR LIONEL. Speak softly, Master Balance.
But is there no hope of his recovery?

BAL. None at all, sir; for he's already laid to be arrested by some
that I know.

SIR LIONEL. Well, I do suffer for him, and am loth
Indeed to do what I'm constrain'd to do:
Well, sir, I mean to seize on what is left.
And, hark ye--one word more. [_Whispers._

JOYCE. What heinous sin has yonder man committed,
To have so great a punishment, as wait
Upon the humours of an idle fool?
A very proper fellow, good leg, good face,
A body well-proportioned; but his mind
Bewrays he never came of generous kind.

_Enter_ WILL RASH _and_ GERALDINE.

SIR LIONEL. Go to; no more of this at this time.
What, sir, are you come?

W. RASH. Yes, sir; and have made bold to bring a guest along.

SIR LIONEL. Master Geraldine's son of Essex?

GERA. The same, sir.

SIR LIONEL. You're welcome, sir; when will your father be in town?

GERA. 'Twill not be long, sir.

SIR LIONEL. I shall be glad to see him when he comes.

GERA. I thank you, sir.

SIR LIONEL. In the meantime, you're welcome; pray, be not strange. I'll leave my son amongst you, gentlemen. I have some business. Hark you, Master Balance--Dinner will soon be ready. One word more----

[_Exeunt_ SIR LIONEL _and_ BALANCE.

W. RASH. And how does my little Asinus and his _Tu quoque_, here? O, you pretty sweet-faced rogues! that for your countenances might be Alexander and Lodwick.[193] What says the old man to you! will't be a match? shall we call brothers?

SCAT. I' faith, with all my heart: if Mistress Gertrude will, we will be married to-morrow.

BUB. 'Sfoot, if Mistress Joyce will, we'll be married to-night.

W. RASH. Why, you courageous boys, and worthy wenches made out of wax! But what shall's do when we have dined? shall's go see a play?

SCAT. Yes, faith, brother, if it please you: let's go see a play at the Globe.

BUB. I care not; any whither, so the clown have a part; for, i' faith, I am nobody without a fool.

GERA. Why, then, we'll go to the Red Bull: they say Green's a good clown.

BUB. Green! Green's an ass.

SCAT. Wherefore do you say so?

BUB. Indeed, I ha' no reason; for they say he is as like me as ever he can look.

SCAT. Well, then, to the Bull.

W. RASH. A good resolution!--continue it: nay, on.

BUB. Not before the gentlewomen; not I, never.

W. RASH. O, while you live, men before women: custom hath placed it so.

BUB. Why, then, custom is not so mannerly as I would be.

[_Exeunt_ BUBBLE _and_ SCATTERGOOD.

W. RASH. Farewell, Master Scattergood. Come, lover, you're too busy here. I must tutor ye: cast not your eye at the table on each other; my father will spy you without spectacles; he is a shrewd observer. Do you hear me?

GERA. Very well, sir.

W. RASH. Come, then, go we together; let the wenches alone. Do you see yonder fellow?

GERA. Yes; prythee, what is he?

W. RASH. I'll give you him within: he must
Not now be thought on; but you shall know him.
[_Exeunt_ WILL RASH _and_ GERALDINE.

GERT. I have observ'd my sister, and her eye
Is much inquisitive after yond' fellow;
She has examin'd him from head to foot:
I'll stay and see the issue. [_Withdraws a little._]

JOYCE. To wrastle 'gainst the stream of our affection,
Is to strike air, or buffet with the wind
That plays upon us. I have striv'd to cast
This fellow from my thoughts, but still he grows
More comely in my sight: yet [is] a slave,
Unto one worse-condition'd than a slave.
They are all gone; here's none but he and I:
Now I will speak to him--and yet I will not.
O, I [do] wrong myself; I will suppress
That insurrection love hath train'd in me,
And leave him as he is. Once my bold spirit
Had vow'd to utter all my thoughts to him,
On whom I settled my affection,
And why retires it now?

STAINES. Fight, love, on both sides; for on me thou strik'st
Strokes that have beat my heart into a flame.
She hath sent amorous glances from her eye,
Which I have back return'd as faithfully.
I would make to her, but these servile robes
Curb that suggestion, till some fitter time
Shall bring me more persuadingly unto her. [_Aside._

JOYCE. I wonder why he stays; I fear he notes me,
For I have publicly betray'd myself
By too much gazing on him. I will leave him. [_Aside._

GERT. But you shall not: I'll make you speak to him
Before you go. Do you hear, sir?

JOYCE. What mean you, sister?

GERT. To fit you in your kind, sister. Do you remember
How you once tyrannis'd o'er me?

JOYCE. Nay, prythee, leave this jesting; I am out of the vein.[194]

GERT. Ay, but I am in. Go and speak to your lover.

JOYCE. I'll first be buried quick.

GERT. How! ashamed? 'Sfoot, I trow, "if I had set my affection on a collier, I'd ne'er fall back, unless it were in the right kind: if I did, let me be tied to a stake, and burnt to death with charcoal."[195]

JOYCE. Nay, then, we shall have't.

GERT. Yes, marry shall you, sister: will you speak to him?

JOYCE. No.

GERT. Do you hear, sir? here's a gentlewoman would speak with you.

JOYCE. Why, sister! I pray, sister----

GERT. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess it.

STAINES. Did you call, ladies?

JOYCE. No, sir; here's no one called.

GERT. Yes, sir, 'twas I; I called to speak with you.

JOYCE. My sister's somewhat frantic; there's no regard to be had unto her clamours. Will you yet leave? I' faith, you'll anger me.

GERT. Passion: "come back, fool; lover, turn again and kiss your bellyful; here's one will stand ye."[196]

STAINES. What does this mean, trow?

JOYCE. Yet is your humour spent?

GERT. Come, let me go: "birds that want the use of reason and of speech can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both, cannot conclude in twenty."[197] Now, sister, I am even with you, my venom is spit. As much happiness may you enjoy with your lover as I with mine. And droop not, wench, nor never be ashamed of him; the man will serve the turn, though he be wrapped in a blue coat, I'll warrant him; come.

JOYCE. You are merrily disposed, sister. [_Exeunt wenches._

STAINES. I needs
Must prosper: fortune and love work for me.
Be moderate, my joys; for, as you grow
To your full height, so Bubble's waxeth low. [_Exit._

_Enter_ SPENDALL, SWEATMAN, _and_ TICKLEMAN.

TICKLE. Will my sweet Spendall be gone, then?

SPEND. I must, upon promise; but I'll be here at supper: therefore, Mistress Sweatman, provide us some good cheer.

SWEAT. The best the market will yield.

SPEND. Here's twenty shillings; I protest I have left myself but a crown for my spending-money: for indeed I intend to be frugal, and turn good husband.

TICKLE. Ay, marry will you; you'll to play again and lose your money, and fall to fighting; my very heart trembles to think on it; how, if you had been killed in the quarrel? of my faith, I had been but a dead woman.

SPEND. Come, come, no more of this; thou dost but dissemble.

TICKLE. Dissemble! do not you say so; for if you do,
God is my judge, I'll give myself a gash.

SPEND. Away, away; prythee, no more. Farewell.

TICKLE. Nay, buss first; well,
There's no adversity in the world shall part us.

SPEND. Thou art a loving rascal; farewell.

SWEAT. You will not fail supper?

SPEND. You have my word; farewell. [_Exit._

_The street. Enter_ SERJEANTS.

1ST SER. Sir, we arrest you.

SPEND. Arrest me! at whose suit?

2D SER. Marry, there's suits enough against you, I'll warrant you.

1ST SER. Come, away with him.

SPEND. Stay, hear me a word.

2D SER. What do you say?

SWEATMAN'S _house. Another part of the street_.

_Enter_ PURSENET.

TICKLE. How now, Pursenet? why com'st in such haste?

PURSE. Shut up your doors, and bar young Spendall out;
And let him be cashier'd your company.
He's turn'd bankrout; his wares are seiz'd on;
And's shop shut up.

TICKLE. How! his ware seized on? Thou dost but jest, I hope.

PURSE. What this tongue doth report, these eyes have seen;
It is no Æsop's fable that I tell;
But it is true, as I am faithful pander.

SWEAT. Nay, I did ever think the prodigal would prove
A bankrupt: but, hang him, let him rot
In prison; he comes no more within these doors,
I warrant him.

TICKLE. Come hither! I would he would but offer it;
We'll fire him out, with a pox to him.

SPEND. Will you do it?
To carry me to prison but undoes me.

1ST SER. What say you, fellow Gripe, shall we take his forty shillings?

2D SER. Yes, faith; we shall have him again within this week. [_Aside._

1ST SER. Well, sir, your forty shillings; and we'll have some compassion on you.

SPEND. Will you but walk with me unto that house,
And there you shall receive it.

SER. What, where the women are?

SPEND. Yes, sir.
[_They walk together to the house._

SWEAT. Look yonder, if the ungracious rascal be not coming hither betwixt two serjeants: he thinks, belike, that we'll relieve him; let us go in and clap the doors against him.

PURSE. It is the best course, Mistress Tickleman.

TICKLE. But I say no, you shall not stir a foot;
For I will talk with him.

SPEND. Nan, I am come,
Even in the minute that thou didst profess
Kindness unto me, to make trial of it.
Adversity, thou seest, lays hands upon me:
But forty shillings will deliver me.

TICKLE. Why, you impudent rogue, do you come to me for money?
Or do I know you? what acquaintance, pray,
Hath ever pass'd betwixt yourself and me?

SER. Zounds, do you mock us, to bring us to these women, that do not
know you?

SWEAT. Yes, in good sooth (officers, I take't you are)

He's a mere stranger here; only in charity
Sometimes we have reliev'd him with a meal.

SPEND. This is not earnest in you? Come, I know,
My gifts and bounty cannot so soon be buried.
Go, prythee, fetch forty shillings.

TICKLE. Talk not to me, you slave, of forty shillings;
For by this light that shines, ask it again,
I'll send my knife of an errand in your guts.
A shameless rogue, to come to me for money!

SWEAT. Is he your prisoner, gentlemen?

SER. Yes, marry is he.

SWEAT. Pray, carry him then to prison, let him smart for't:
Perhaps 'twill tame the wildness of his youth,
And teach him how to lead a better life.
He had good counsel here, I can assure you,
And if he would have took it.

PURSE. I told him still myself what would ensue.

SPEND. Furies break loose in me: serjeants, let me go;
I'll give you all I have to purchase freedom
But for a lightning while, to tear yond whore,
Bawd, pander, and in them the devil; for there's
His hell, his local habitation;
Nor has he any other place.[198]

SER. No, sir, we'll take no bribes.
[_Takes_ SPENDALL'S _cloak_.

SPEND. Honest serjeants, give me leave to unlade
A heart o'ercharg'd with grief; as I have a soul,
I'll not break from you. [_They loose him._]
Thou strumpet, that wert born to ruin me,[199]
My fame and fortune, be subject to my curse,
And hear me speak it. May'st thou in thy youth
Feel the sharp whip, and in thy beldam age
The cart: when thou art grown to be
An old upholster unto venery,
(A bawd, I mean, to live by feather-beds)
May'st thou be driven to sell all thou hast,
Unto thy _aqua-vitæ_ bottle (that's the last
A bawd will part withal) and live so poor
That, being turn'd forth thy house, may'st die at door!

SER. Come, sir, ha' you done?

SPEND. A little farther give me leave, I pray;
I have a charitable prayer to end with.
May the French cannibal[200] eat into thy flesh,
And pick thy bones so clean, that the report
Of thy calamity may draw resort
Of all the common sinners in the town,
To see thy mangl'd carcass; and that then
They may upon't turn honest; bawd, say amen. [_Exit._

SWEAT. Out upon him, wicked villain, how he blasphemes!

PURSE. He will be damn'd for turning heretic.

TICKLE. Hang him, bankrout rascal, let him talk in prison,
The whilst we'll spend his goods; for I did never
Hear that men took example by each other.

SWEAT. Well, if men did rightly consider't, they should find that whores and bawds are profitable members in a commonwealth; for indeed, though we somewhat impair their bodies, yet we do good to their souls; for I am sure, we still bring them to repentance.

PURSE. By Dis, and so we do.

SWEAT. Come, come, will you dis before? thou art one of them that I warrant thee will, be hanged, before thou wilt repent. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ WILL RASH, STAINES, _and_ GERALDINE.

W. RASH. Well, this love is a troublesome thing. Jupiter, bless me out of his fingers; there's no estate can rest for him: he runs through all countries, will travel through the Isle of Man in a minute; but never is quiet till he comes into Middlesex, and there keeps his Christmas: 'tis his habitation, his mansion, from whence he'll never out till he be fired.

GERA. Well, do not tyrannise too much, lest one day he make you know his deity, by sending a shaft out of a sparkling eye shall strike so deep into your heart, that it shall make you fetch your breath short again.

W. RASH. And make me cry, _O eyes, no eyes, but two celestial stars!_[201] A pox on't, I'd as lief hear a fellow sing through the nose. How now, wench?

_Enter_ GERTRUDE.

GERT. Keep your station: you stand as well for the encounter as may be: she is coming on; but as melancholy as a bass-viol in concert.

W. RASH. Which makes thee as sprightly as the treble. Now dost thou play thy prize: here's the honourable science, one against another. Do you hear, lover; the thing is done you wot of; you shall have your wench alone without any disturbance; now if you can do any good, why so; the silver game be yours; we'll stand by and give aim,[202] and halloo, if you hit the clout.

STAINES. 'Tis all the assistance I request of you.
Bring me but opportunely to her presence,
And I desire no more; and if I cannot win her,
Let me lose her.

GERT. Well, sir, let me tell you, perhaps you undertake
A harder task than yet you do imagine.

STAINES. A task! what, to win a woman, and have opportunity? I would that were a task, i' faith, for any man that wears his wits about him. Give me but half an hour's conference with the coldest creature of them all; and if I bring her not into a fool's paradise, I'll pull out my tongue, and hang it at her door for a draw-latch. Ud's foot! I'd ne'er stand thrumming of caps for the matter; I'll quickly make trial of her. If she love to have her beauty praised, I'll praise it; if her wit, I'll commend it; if her good parts, I'll exalt them. No course shall 'scape me; for to whatsoever I saw her inclined, to that would I fit her.

W. RASH. But you must not do thus to her; for she's a subtle, flouting rogue, that will laugh you out of countenance, if you solicit her seriously. No, talk me to her wantonly, slightly, and carelessly, and perhaps so you may prevail as much with her as wind does with a sail--carry her whither thou wilt, bully.

_Enter_ JOYCE.

STAINES. Well, sir, I'll follow your instruction.

W. RASH. Do so: and see, she appears. Fall you two off from us; let us two walk together.

JOYCE. Why did my inquiring eye take in this fellow,
And let him down so easy to my heart,
Where, like a conqueror, he seizes on it,
And beats all other men out of my bosom?

W. RASH. Sister, you're well met. Here's a gentleman desires to be acquainted with you.

JOYCE. See, the servingman is turned a gentleman! That villanous wench, my sister, has no mercy. She and my brother have conspired together to play upon me; but I'll prevent their sport; for, rather than my tongue shall have scope to speak matter to give them mirth, my heart shall break. [_Aside._]

W. RASH. You have your desire, sir; I'll leave you;
Grapple with her as you can. [_Aside. Exit._]

STAINES. Lady, God save you.--
She turns back upon the motion;
There's no good to be done by praying for her,
I see that; I must plunge into a passion:
Now for a piece of Hero and Leander;
'Twere excellent, and (praise be to my memory),
It has reach'd half a dozen lines for the purpose:
Well, she shall have them--
"One is no number, maids are nothing, then,[203]
Without the sweet society of men.
Wilt thou live single still? one shalt thou be,
Though never singling Hymen couple thee.
Wild savages, that drink of running springs,
Think water far excels all earthly things:
But they that daily taste neat wine, despise it.
Virginity, albeit some highly prize it,
Compar'd with marriage, had you tried them both,
Differs as much as wine and water doth."
No? Why then, have at you in another kind.

"By the faith of a soldier, lady, I do reverence the ground that you walk upon. I will fight with him that dares say you are not fair; stab him that will not pledge your health, and with a dagger pierce a vein,[204] to drink a full health to you; but it shall be on this condition, that you shall speak first." Ud's foot! if I could but get her to talk once half my labour were over; but I'll try her in another vein. "What an excellent creature is a woman without a tongue! but what a more excellent creature is a woman that has a tongue, and can hold her peace! but how much more excellent and fortunate a creature is that man that has that woman to his wife!" This cannot choose but mad her; and if anything make a woman talk, 'tis this. It will not do, though, yet. I pray God they have not gulled me. But I'll try once again--"When will that tongue take liberty to talk? Speak but one word, and I'm satisfied: Or do but say but mum, and I am answer'd." No sound? no accent? Is there no noise in women? Nay, then without direction I ha' done. I must go call for help. [_Leaves her._

W. RASH. How! not speak?

STAINES. Not a syllable. Night nor sleep is not more silent. She's as dumb as Westminster Hall in the long vacation.

W. RASH. Well, and what would you have me do?

STAINES. Why, make her speak.

W. RASH. And what then?

STAINES. Why, let me alone with her.

W. RASH. Ay, so you said before; give you but opportunity, and let you alone--you'd desire no more. But come, I'll try my cunning for you; see what I can do. How do you, sister? I am sorry to hear you are not well. This gentleman tells me you have lost your tongue; I pray, let's see. If you can but make signs whereabout you lost it, we'll go and look for't. In good faith, sister, you look very pale; in my conscience, 'tis for grief. Will you have any comfortable drinks sent for? This is not the way [_aside_]; come, walk, seem earnest in discourse, cast not an eye towards her, and you shall see weakness work itself.

JOYCE. My heart is swoll'n so big that it must vent,
Or it will burst. [_Aside._] Are you a brother?

W. RASH. Look to yourself, sir;
The brazen head has spoke,[205] and I must leave you.

JOYCE. Has shame that power in him, to make him fly,
And dare you be so impudent to stand
Just in the face of my incensed anger?
What are you? why do you stay? who sent for you?
You were in garments yesterday, befitting
A fellow of your fashion: has a crown
Purchased that shining satin of the brokers?
Or is't a cast suit of your goodly master's?

STAINES. A cast suit, lady?

JOYCE. You think it does become you? Faith, it does not.
A blue coat[206] with a badge does better with you.
Go, untruss your master's points, and do not dare
To stop your nose when as his worship stinks:
'T has been your breeding.

STAINES. Ud's life! this is excellent: now she talks. [_Aside._

JOYCE. Nay, were you a gentleman, and (which is more)
Well-landed, I should hardly love you;
For, for your face, I never saw a worse:
It looks as if 'twere drawn with yellow ochre
Upon black buckram; and that hair
That's on your chin looks not like beard,
But as if't had been smear'd with shoemakers' wax.

STAINES. Ud's foot! she'll make me out of love with myself.
[_Aside._

JOYCE. How dares your baseness once aspire unto
So high a fortune, as to reach at me?
Because you have heard that some have run away
With butlers, horsekeepers, and their father's clerks,
You, forsooth, cocker'd with your own suggestion,
Take heart upon't, and think me (that am meet,
And set up for your master) fit for you.

STAINES. I would I could get her now to hold her tongue. [_Aside_

JOYCE. Or, 'cause sometimes as I have pass'd along,
And have return'd a courtesy for your hat,
You, as the common trick is, straight suppose
'Tis love (sir reverence, which makes the word more beastly).

STAINES. Why, this is worse than silence. [_Aside._

JOYCE. But we are fools, and in our reputations
We find the smart on't:
Kindness is termed lightness in our sex;
And when we give a favour or a kiss,
We give our good names too.

STAINES. Will you be dumb again?

JOYCE. Men you are call'd, but you're a viperous brood,
Whom we in charity take into our bosoms,
And cherish with our heart; for which you sting us.

STAINES. Ud's foot! I'll fetch him that wak'd your tongue,
To lay it down again. [_Fetches_ WILL RASH.

W. RASH. Why, how now, man?

STAINES. O, relieve me, or I shall lose my hearing!
You have rais'd a fury up into her tongue:
A parliament of women could not make
Such a confused noise as that she utters.

W. RASH. Well, what would you have me do?

STAINES. Why, make her hold her tongue.

W. RASH. And what then?

STAINES. Why, then, let me alone again.