Chapter VII: Act V: , Scene 1

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT.

BEL. Titles and state, d'ye call it? O content!
Thou art both beauty, means, and all in marriage.
Joy dwells not in the princes' palaces:
They that envy 'em do not know their cares.
Were I the queen of gold, it could not buy
An hour's ease for my oppressed heart.
O, were this wedlock knot to tie again,
Not all the state and glory it contains,
Join'd with my father's fury, should enforce
My rash consent! but, Scudmore, thou shalt see
This false heart (in my death) most true to thee.
[_Shows a knife hanging by her side._
My lord, my father, all the company,
Did note my sudden sadness now at supper;
Yet came I out, and put on feigned mirth,
And mean to sit out this night's revels, too,
To avoid all suspect may grow in 'em,
Lest my behaviour should my intent reveal:
Our griefs, like love, we hardly can conceal[60].
Yon come my sisters. Are the masquers ready?

_Enter_ LUCIDA, _with her willow garland on, and_ KATHERINE.

LUC. They are gone to dress themselves. Master Nevill's come.
I would I had not vow'd to live a maid!
I am a little taken with that gentleman,
And yet if marriage be so full of ill,
Let me be married to my garland still.

KATH. In troth, thy state is happier much than ours.
Were never two like us unfortunate!

LUC. Thy case indeed I needs must pity much,
Because I think thy virtue slandered;
But for my lady sister, if she reap
Sad discontent, 'tis none's but her own fault:
I knew the passages 'twixt her and Scudmore.

BEL. Sister, I wonder you will name a man,
I think not on: he was no match for me.
Why d'ye blame me, that should rather blame
Your wandering eye, to love a man lov'd me?

LUC. Well, 'tis too late now to expostulate.
But, my poor little Kate, where is thy man?

KATH. Lost, lost, in troth: to-morrow I shall hear,
I make account, he's gone some five-years' voyage,
Till this disgrace of ours be overblown;
And for my Captain Pouts, by this time he
Is ten mile on the river toward Gravesend.

_Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY _with_ SERVANTS, _with torches and cudgels_.

SIR J. WOR. Stand you two there. Sirrah, go you with me.
Why, how now, girls! here still? what, and your ladyship?
Away! away, I say: go take your places.
Some torches for my lady! You sirrah,
[_Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT, LUCIDA, KATE.
Is my Lady Ninny awake yet?[61]

SER. Yes, sir, she is awake, but she is scant sober: the first thing
she called for was her aqua-vitæ bottle.

SIR J. WOR. Who is with her?

SER. The good Sir Innocent and her gentlewoman.

SIR J. WOR. Go, tell 'em I desire their company,
The masque stays on 'em, say; and d'ye hear,
The sides of one o' th' chairs must be let out
For her great ladyship.

SER. Marry, shall it, sir. [_Exit_ SERVANT.

_Enter_ NEVILL, COUNT, PENDANT, _and_ SIR ABRAHAM, _in their masquing robes;_ SIR ABRAHAM _gnawing on a capon's leg_.

NEV. Soul! man, leave eating now: look, look! you have all dropped o' your suit.

ABRA. O sir, I was in love to-day, and could not eat; but here's one knows the case is altered. Lend me but a handkerchief to wipe my mouth, and I ha' done.

NEV. Soul! how this rascal stays with the rest of our things.

SIR J. WOR. How now, son Count? what, ready, Master Nevill?

NEV. All ready, ready; only we tarry for our vizards and our caps: I put 'em to a knave to do,[62] because I would have 'em the better done.

ABRA. If you put 'em to a knave, you are like to have 'em the worse done.

NEV. Your wit is most active: I called him knave in regard of his long stay, sir, not his work.

ABRA. But, d'ye hear, Master Nevill? did you bespeak a vizard with a most terrible countenance for me?

NEV. A very devil's face: I fear nothing, but that it will fright the women.

ABRA. I would it would. And a huge moustachio?[63]

NEV. A very Turk's.

ABRA. Excellent!

C. FRED. But do you think he will come at all?

OMNES. O, there he is.

SCUD. (_Within_). By your leave! stand back, by your leave!

_Enter_ SCUDMORE, _like a vizard-maker_.

Nothing can be done to-night, if I enter not.

2D SER. Stand back there, or I'll burn you.

SCUD. 'Twere but a whorish trick, sir.

3D SER. O sir, is't you? Heart! you will be kill'd.

SCUD. Marry, God forbid, sir.

NEV. Pray, forbear; let me speak to him. O, you use us very well.

SCUD. In good faith, I have been so troubled about this gentleman's scurvy face (I take it), 'tis wonderful.

ABRA. Well, are you fitted now?

NEV. Fitted at all points.

C. FRED. Where are the caps?

SCUD. Here, sir.

PEN. Let me see mine.

C. FRED. Come, help me on with mine.

ABRA. This is a rare face to fright the maids i' th' country! Here now I'll pin my purse. Come, help me on.

NEV. So, so, away! mine being on, I'll follow you.

OMNES. Pray, make haste.
[_Exeunt_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, SIR ABRAHAM, COUNT, PENDANT.

NEV. So, that door's fast, and they are busied
About their charge. On with this robe of mine,
This vizard and this cap: help me a little. [_Change habits._

SCUD. At first change I must tell her who I am.

NEV. Right; 'tis agreed, I (leading of the masque)
Should dance with Bellafront.

SCUD. And at the second,
I come away with her, and leave them dancing,
And shall find you at the back door.

NEV. The rest,
That follows, is digested in my breast.

SER. What would you do I stand back,
Unless you can eat torches!

_Enter_ COUNT, PENDANT, SIR ABRAHAM, _in their masquing robes_.

C. FRED. Come, come! away for shame!

SCUD. 'Tis such a tedious rascal. So ha' wi' ye. [_Exeunt masquers._

SIR J. WOR. Thou hast well fitted 'em, though thou mad'st 'em stay.

NEV. I forbid any man to mend 'em, sir. Good night unto your
worship.

SIR J. WOR. Wilt not stay?

NEV. Alas, sir! I have another to set forth
This very night. By your leave, my masters.
[_Exit_ NEVILL _through them_.

2D SER. By your leave! by your leave! you'll let a man go out?

SIR J. WOR. Now, go with me, and let all in that will.
[_Exit_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY _with them, and run in three or four_.

SCENE II.

_Enter two or three, setting three or four chairs and four or five stools. Loud music; in which time enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, SIR INNOCENT, BELLAFRONT, LUCIDA, KATE, _my_ LADY NINNY, MISTRESS WAGTAIL. _They seat themselves_. LADY NINNY _offers at two or three chairs; at last finds the great one; they point at her and laugh. As soon as she is set, she drinks of her bottle. The music plays, and they enter. After one strain of the music_, SCUDMORE _takes_ BELLAFRONT, _who seems unwilling to dance_. COUNT _takes_ LUCIDA; PENDANT, KATE; SIR ABRAHAM, MISTRESS WAGTAIL: SCUDMORE, _as they stand (the other courting too), whispers as follows:_--

SCUD. I am your Scudmore. [_Soft music._

BEL. Ha!

SCUD. By heaven, I am.
Be rul'd by me in all things.

BEL. Even to death.

ABRA. 'Sfoot! Did you not know me by my purse?

WAG. I should ne'er have known you by that, for you wear it on your
head, and other folks in their pockets.

L. NIN. Which is my lord, I pray?

SIR J. WOR. The second man:
Young Nevill leads.

SIR INN. And where's Sir Abraham?

SIR J. WOR. He with the terrible visage.

L. NIN. Now, out upon him to disfigure himself so:
And 'twere not for my bottle, I should swoon.
[_Music, and they dance the second strain, in which_
SCUDMORE _goes away with_ BELLAFRONT.

OMNES SPECTATORES. Good, very good!
[_The other four dance another strain, honour and end._

C. FRED. But where's the bride and Nevill?

OMNES. Ha!

ABRA. 'Ware tricks!

SIR J. WOR. O, there they come: it was their parts to do so.

_Enter_ SCUDMORE _unvizarded_, BELLAFRONT, _with pistols and the right Parson_.

C. FRED. This Nevill? This is Scudmore.

OMNES. How?

C. FRED. But here's my lady.

SCUD. No, my gentlewoman.

ABRA. 'Zoons! treason! I smell powder.

BEL. In short, know,
That I am married to this gentleman,
To whom I was contracted long ago.
This priest the inviolable knot hath tied.
What ease I find being unladified! [_Aside._]

C. FRED. What riddle's this?

SIR INN. 'Ware the last statute of two husbands.

SCUD. and BEL. Pish!

C. FRED. This is the very priest that married me:
Is it not, sister?

_Enter_ NEVILL, _like the Parson too_.

NEV. No.

ABRA. Lord bless us! here is conjuring!
Lend me your aqua-vitæ bottle, good mother.

SIR J. WOR. Heyday!
The world's turn'd upside down. I have heard and seen
Two or three benefices to one priest, or more,
But two priests to one benefice ne'er before.

PEN. Married not you the earl?

PAR. _Bona fide_, no.

SIR J. WOR. You did, then?

NEV. Yes.

C. FRED. I have the privilege, then?

SIR J. WOR. Right, you were married first.

SCUD. Sir John, you doat,
This is a devil in a parson's coat.
[NEVILL _puts off the Priest's weeds, and has a
devil's robe under_.

OMNES. A pretty emblem!

NEV. Who married her, or would have caus'd her marry,
To any man but this, no better was;
Let circumstances be examined.
Yet here's one more: and now I hope you all
Perceive my marrying not canonical. [_Slips off his devil's weeds._

OMNES. Nevill, whoop!

C. FRED. Heart! what a deal of knavery a priest's cloak can hide. If it be not one of the honestest, friendliest cozenages that 'ere I saw, I am no lord.

KATH. Life! I am not married, then, in earnest.

NEV. So, Mistress Kate, I kept you for myself.

SIR J. WOR. It boots not to be angry.

SIR INN. _and_ LADY. No, faith, Sir John.

_Enter_ STRANGE, _with_ POUTS _on his back_.

2D. SER. Whither will you go with your calf on your back, sir?

SIR J. WOR. Now, more knavery yet?

STRANGE. Prythee, forbear, or I shall do thee mischief.
By your leave, here is some sad to your merriment.
Know you this captain?

OMNES. Yes, very well.

KATH. O sister, here's the villain slander'd me.

STRANGE. You see he cannot stand to't.

ABRA. Is he hurt in the arm, too?

STRANGE. Yes.

ABRA. Why, then, by God's-lid, thou art a base rogue. I knew I should live to tell thee so.

L. NIN. Sir Abraham, I say!

OMNES. Heaven is just.

CAPT. POUTS. What a rogue are you!
Is this the surgeon you would carry me to?

STRANGE. Confess your slander, and I will, I swear.

CAPT. POUTS. Nay, 'tis no matter, I'll cry quittance with you.
Forgive me, Mistress Kate, and know, all people,
I lied not with her, but belied her once;
And to my recantation that same soldier
Enforc'd my hand.

STRANGE. Yes, here 'tis, Mistress Kate.
[_They all look on the paper._

CAPT. POUTS. I see now how I am cheated. Love him well.
He has redeem'd your honour with his sword.

Sir J. Wor. But where is Strange my son? O, were he here,
He should be married new to make all sure.

KATH. O my divining spirit, he's gone to sea!

CAPT. POUTS. This cunning in her is exceeding good.
Your son--your husband Strange is murdered.

OMNES. How?

STRANGE. Peace, peace! For heaven's sake, peace!
Come, sir, I'll carry you to a surgeon.
Here's gold to stop thy throat. For God's sake, peace!

CAPT. POUTS. Sirrah, you have brought me to a surgeon already:
I'll be even with you.

KATH. Of all men living I could marry thee,
Were not my heart given to another man.
Sir, you did speak of Strange?

CAPT. POUTS. These women are as crafty as the devil.
Yes, I did speak of him: Sir John, my lord,
Know Strange is murder'd by that villain's hand,
And by his wife's consent.

OMNES. How?

SIR J. WOR. God forbid!

CAPT. POUTS. Search presently the closet and the vault,
There you shall find his body: 'tis too true.
The reason all may guess: her husband, wanting
Spirit to do on me what he hath done,
In hope to marry her, he hath murder'd him.

KATH. To marry me! No, villain: I do hate him
On this report worse than I do thyself;
And may the plagues and tortures of a land
Seize me if this be not an innocent hand.

SIR J. WOR. 'Fore God, 'tis most like truth.
Son Scudmore, pray
Look to this fellow: gentlemen, assist.
Torches! some torches! I'll go search myself.

SIR INN. I will assist you.

C. FRED. But I pray, sir, how came you unto this knowledge?

CAPT. POUTS. From his mouth.

STRANGE. I'll save your labour, and discover all.
Thou perjur'd villain, didst not swear thou wouldst not
Discover me?

CAPT. POUTS. I but swore in jest.

STRANGE. Nay, but remember, thou didst wish Strange living,
If ever thou didst tell.

CAPT. POUTS. Sir, all is true,[64]
And would my punishment would ease my conscience.

SIR J. WOR. To Newgate with him! hence! take her along.
Out, murderers! whore, thou art no child of mine!
Fetch constable and officers. Away!

STRANGE. Sir, do but hear me speak.

SIR J. WOR. Fetch officers!

CAPT. POUTS. Go fetch a surgeon.

STRANGE. Sir, you are then too violent. I will bail her.
[_Discovers himself._

KATH. O my dear Strange!

SIR J. WOR. My son!

SCUD., LUC., BEL. Brother!

OMNES. Young Strange!

CAPT. POUTS. Heart! I was never sick before: help me now to a
surgeon, or I shall swoon instantly.
[_As two lead him, he speaks._
Thou wert born a woman-citizen; fare thee well.
And farewell, love and women, ye diseases:
My horse and sword shall be my mistresses,
My horse I'll court, my sword shall lie with me. [_Exit._

STRANGE. The way to cure lust is to bleed, I see.

C. FRED. Tell him all, Scudmore, whilst I go a-wooing again. Sir John, will you go along, and my two worshipful elders, I pray, be your witnesses. Priest, go not you away. Heart! I have so ruminated on a wife, that I must have one this night, or I shall run proud.[65]

[NEVILL, SCUDMORE, BELLAFRONT, STRANGE, KATHERINE, _whisper in
one part_. PENDANT, SIR ABRAHAM, _and_ WAGTAIL _in another_.

Mistress Lucida, you did once love me; if you do still, no more words, but give me your hand. Why are ye doubtful?

ABRA. Ne'er look upon me, Mistress Lucida; time was, time is, and time's pass'd. I'll none of you now: I am otherwise provided.

PEN. Well spoken, brazen-head![66] now or never, Sir Abraham.

ABRA. Then first, as duty binds, I crave consent
Of my two parents dear: if ay, say so;
If not, I'll ha' her, whether you will or no.

SIR INN. How? how?

L. NIN. I hope you will not.

ABRA. Ma'am, I am resolved: you have a humour of your aqua-vitæ bottle, why should not I have a humour in a wife?

SIR J. WOR. An old man were a fitter match for her: He would make much of her.

ABRA. Much on her? I know not what ye call much making on her, I am sure I have made two on her.

PEN. And that an old man cannot do, I hope.

NEV. O thou beyond Lawrence of Lancashire.[67]

SIR INN. Come, come, you shall not.

ABRA. Speak not in vain; I am too sure to change,
For hand and heart are sure: _Ecce signum_.
And this have I done, and never lay with her.

SIR J. WOR. Nay, then, 'tis too late;
'Tis sure: 'tis vain to cross the will of fate.

SIR INN. _and_ LADY. Well, well, God bless you.
[ABRAHAM _and_ WAGTAIL _kneel_.

ABRA. Thanks, reverend couple, and God bless withal
The little Ninny that herein doth sprawl.
Parson, you shall despatch us presently:
Lord, how soberly you stand!

PAR. Now truly I could ne'er stand drunk in my life.

STRANGE. Strange and most fortunate, we must have a new Tuck then.

C. FRED. Is it a match?

LUC. 'Tis done.

C. FRED. Then Bacchus squeeze grapes with a plenteous hand.
Parson, you'll take some pains with us to-night.
Come, brothers, come: fly, willow, to the woods,
And, like the sea, for healths let's drink whole floods.

STRANGE. I consecrate my deed unto the city,
And hope to live myself to see the day,
It shall be shown to people in a play.

SCUD. And may all true love have like happy end.
Women, forgive me; men, admire my friend.

SIR J. WOR. On, parson, on; and, boy, outvoice the music.[68]
Ne'er was so much (what cannot heavenly powers?)
Done and undone, and done in twelve short hours. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[59] [See _post_.]

[60] The difficulty of concealing love has been the origin of a
humorous proverb in Italian. In Pulci's "Morgante Maggiore," iv. 38,
Rinaldo thus taunts the most sentimental of the Paladins, Oliver, when
he becomes enamoured of Florisena--

"_Vero è pur che l'uom non possa,_
_Celar per certo l'amore e la tossa._"

[See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 269.]

Franco Sacchetti, in his sixteenth novel, expressly tells us that it
was a proverb. _Perchè ben dice il proverbio, che l'amore e la tossa
non si puo celare mai._

[61] The question

"You, sirrah,
Is my Lady Ninny awake yet?"

is given in the old 4º to Scudmore, but it belongs to Sir John
Worldly. Scudmore is not on the stage.

[62] Old copy, _doing_.

[63] Old copy, _moustachios_.

[64] [The old copy and Collier give this speech to Strange.]

[65] [In the sense of _hot_, salacious.]

[66] An allusion to the well-known story of Friar Bacon and his brazen
head, which spoke three times, but was not attended to by his man
Miles. See Greene's "Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay," [in Dyce's edits,
of Greene, and the prose narrative in Thoms's Collection, 1828.]

[67] A boisterous, clownish character in the play of "The Lancashire
Witches," by Heywood and Brome. It was not printed until 1634. Either
Lawrence was a person who figured in that transaction, and whose name
is not recorded, or (which is not impossible) the play was written
very long before it was printed.

[68] Perhaps the play originally ended with a song by a boy, in which
the rest joined chorus.

AMENDS FOR LADIES.

_EDITIONS._

_Amends for Ladies. A Comedie. As it was acted at the Blacke-Fryers, both by the Princes Servants, and the Lady Elizabeths. By Nat. Field. London: Printed by G. Eld, for Math. Walbancke, and are to be sold at his Shop at the new Gate of Grayes Inne, or at the old._ 1618. 4º.

_Amends for Ladies. With the merry prankes of Moll Cut-Purse, Or, the humour of roaring: A Comedy full of honest mirth and wit. As it was Acted at the Blacke-Fryers both by the Princes Servants and the Lady Elizabeths. By Nath. Field. London, Printed by Io. Okes, for Math. Walbancke, and are to be sold at his Shop at Grayes-Inne Gate._ 1639. 4º.