Chapter XVII: Act V: , Scene I

_+Plotwell+, +Aurelia+, +Bright+, +Newcut+, +Quartfield+,
+Roseclap+, two +Footmen+, +Cypher+._

+Plot.+ Well, sister, by this hand, I was afraid
You had marr'd all; but I am well content
You have outreach'd me. If she do act it well now,
By Jove, I'll have her.

+Aur.+ She hath studied all
Her cues already.

+Plot.+ Gentlemen, how do
You like the project?

+Bright.+ Theirs was dull and cold,
Compar'd to ours.

+New.+ Some poet will steal from us,
And bring't into a comedy.

+Quart.+ The jest
Will more inspire than sack.

+Plot.+ I have got Cypher
Over to our side too: he has been up and down
To invite guests to th' wedding.

_Enter +Salewit+ like a Curate._

How now, Salewit, are they gone home?

+Sale.+ Yes, faith, for better for worse.
I've read a fiction out of Rab'lais to 'em
In a religious tone, which he believes
For good French liturgy. When I had done,
There came a christening.

+Plot.+ And didst thou baptize
Out of thy Rab'lais too?

+Sale.+ No, faith; I left 'em
In expectation of their pastor.

+Bright.+ Newcut,
Who does he look like in that dress?

+New.+ Hum! why
Like a Geneva weaver in black, who left[256]
The loom, and enter'd into th' ministry
For conscience' sake.

+Plot.+ Well, gentlemen, you all
Do know your parts: you, Captain and Bannswright,
Go, get your properties. For you two, these
Two mules shall carry you in greater state
And more ease than the fistula. You, sister,
We'll leave unto your knight, to come anon.
Roseclap and I will thither straight. You, Cypher,
Know what you have to do.

+Sale.+ And as for me,
I'm an invited guest, and am to bless
The venison in French, or in a grace
Of broken English.

+Quart.+ Before we do divide
Our army, let us dip our rosemaries[257]
In one rich bowl of sack to this brave girl,
And to the gentleman that was my fish.

+All.+ Agreed, agreed.

+Plot.+ Captain, you shall dip first. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_+Warehouse+, +Dorcas+._

+Ware.+ My dearest Dorcas, welcome. Here you see
The house you must be mistress of, which with
This kiss I do confirm unto you.

+Dor.+ Forbear, sir.

+Ware.+ How! wife, refuse to kiss me?

+Dor.+ Yes, unless
A sweeter air came from you; y' have turned my stomach.
I wonder you can be so rude to ask me,
Knowing your lungs are perish'd.

+Ware.+ This is rare,
That I should live to this great age, and never
Till now know I was rotten!

+Dor.+ I shall never
Endure your conversation: I hope you have
Contriv'd two beds, two chambers, and two tables.
It is an article, that I should live
Retir'd--that is, apart.

+Ware.+ But pray you, wife, are you in earnest?

+Dor.+ D'you think I'll jest with age?

+Ware.+ Will you not lie with me, then?

+Dor.+ Did ever man
Of your hairs ask such questions? I do blush
At your unreasonableness.

+Ware.+ Nay, then----

+Dor.+ Is't fit I should be buried?

+Ware.+ I reach you not.

+Dor.+ Why, to lie with you were a direct emblem
Of going to my grave.

+War.+ I understand you.

+Dor.+ I'll have your picture set in my weddingring
For a Death's head.

+Ware.+ I do conceive you.

+Dor.+ I'd
Rather lie with an ancient tomb, or embrace
An ancestor than you. D'you think I'll come
Between your winding-sheets? For what? To hear you
Depart all night, and fetch your last groan; and
I' th' morning find a deluge on the floor;
Your entrails floating, and half my husband spit
Upon the arras.

+Ware.+ I am married----

+Dor.+ Then,
For your abilities, should twelve good women
Sit on these reverend locks, and on your heat
And natural appetite, they would just find you
As youthful as a coffin, and as hot
As the sultry winter that froze o'er the Thames--
They say the hard time did begin from you.

+Ware.+ Good, I am made the curse of watermen.

+Dor.+ Your humours come frost from you, and your nose
Hath icicles in June.

+Ware.+ Assist me, patience!
Why, hear you, mistress--you that have a fever
And dog-days in your blood--if you knew this,
Why did you marry me?

+Dor.+ Ha, ha, ha!

+Ware.+ She laughs.

+Dor.+ That your experienc'd age,[258] that hath felt springs
And falls this forty years, should be so dull
To think I have not them that shall supply
Your cold defects!

+Ware.+ You have your servants, then,
And I am fork'd? hum!

+Dor.+ Do you think
A woman young, high in her blood----

+Ware.+ And hot
As goats or marmosites----

+Dor.+ Apt to take flame at
Every temptation----

+Ware.+ And to kindle at
The picture of a man----

+Dor.+ Would wed dust, ashes,
A monument, unless she were----

+Ware.+ Crack'd, tried, and broken up?

+Dor.+ Right, sir, or lack'd a cloak?

+Ware.+ Mischief and hell! and was there none to make
Your cloak but I?

+Dor.+ Not so well-lin'd!

+Ware.+ O, you
Stay'd for a wealthy cuckold; your tame beast
Must have his gilded horns?

+Dor.+ Yes, sir; besides,
Your age being impotent, you would, I knew,
In conscience wink at my stol'n helps, if I
Took comfort from abroad.

+Ware.+ Yes, yes; yes, yes!
You shall be comforted: I will maintain
A stallion for you.

+Dor.+ I will have friends come to me.
So you'll conceal----

+Ware.+ Alas! I'll be your pander;
Deliver letters for you, and keep the door.

+Dor.+ I'll have a woman shall do that.

+Ware.+ O impudence!
Unheard-of impudence!

+Dor.+ Then, sir, I'll look
Your coffers shall maintain me at my rate.

+Ware.+ How's that?

+Dor.+ Why, like a lady; for I do mean
To have you knighted.

+Ware.+ I shall rise to honour.

+Dor.+ D'you think I'll have your factor move before me,
Like a device stirr'd by a wire, or like
Some grave clock wound up to a regular pace?

+Ware.+ No, you shall have your usher, dame, to stalk
Before you, like a buskin'd prologue,[259] in
A stately, high, majestic motion, bare.

+Dor.+ I do expect it: yes, sir, and my coach,
Six horses and postillion; four are fit
For them that have a charge of children: you
And I shall never have any.

+Ware.+ If we have,
All Middlesex is father.

+Dor.+ Then I'll have
My footman to run by me when I visit,
Or take the air sometimes in Hyde Park.

+Ware.+ You,
Besides being chaste, are good at races too:
You can be a jockey for a need?

+Dor.+ Y' are pleasant, sir.

+Ware.+ Why, hark you, hark you, mistress; you told me
You lov'd retirement, loved not visits, and bargain'd
I should not carry you abroad.

+Dor.+ You! no.
Is't fit I should be seen at court with you?
Such an odd sight as you would make the ladies
Have melancholy thoughts.

+Ware.+ You bound me, too,
I should not go to sea: you lov'd me so,
You could not be without me.

+Dor.+ Not if you stay'd
Above a year; for should I, in a long voyage,
Prove fruitful, I should want a father to
The infant.

+Ware.+ Most politicly kind,
And, like a whore, perfect i' th' mystery!
It is beyond my sufferance.

+Dor.+ Pray, sir, vex [not]:
I'll in and see your jewels, and make choice
Of some for every day; and some to wear
At masques. [_Exit._

+Ware.+ 'Tis very good. Two days
Of this I shall grow mad; or, to redeem
Myself, commit some outrage. O--O--O!

SCENE III.

_Enter +Plotwell+ and +Roseclap+._

+Plot.+ Sir, I am sorry such a light offence
Should make such deep impressions in you: but that
Which more afflicts me than the loss of my
Great hopes, is that y' are likely to be abused, sir;
Strangely abused, sir, by one Bannswright. I hear
You are to marry----

+Ware.+ Did you hear so?

+Plot.+ Madam Aurelia's woman.

+Ware.+ What of her, sir?

+Plot.+ Why, sir, I thought it duty to inform you,
That you would better match a ruin'd bawd;
One ten times cured by sweating and the tub,[260]
Or pain'd now with her fiftieth ache, whom not
The pow'r of usquebaugh, or heat of fevers
Quickens enough to wish; one of such looks,
The judges of assize, without more proof,
Suspect, arraign, and burn for witchcraft.

+Ware.+ Why, pray?

+Plot.+ For she being pass'd all motions, impotence will be a
kind of chastity, and you
Might have her to yourself: but here is one
Knows this to be----

+Ware.+ An arrant whore?

+Rose.+ I see
You have heard of her, sir. Indeed she has
Done penance thrice.

+Ware.+ How say you, penance?

+Rose.+ Yes, sir, and should have suffer'd----

+Ware.+ Carting, should she not?

+Rose.+ The marshal had her, sir.

+Ware.+ I sweat, I sweat!

+Rose.+ She's of known practice, sir: the clothes she wears
Are but her quarter's sins: she has no linen
But what she first offends for.

+Ware.+ O bless'd Heaven,
Look down upon me!

+Plot.+ Nay, sir, which is more,
She has three children living; has had four.

+Ware.+ How! children! Children, say you?

+Plot.+ Ask him, sir.
One by a Frenchman.

+Rose.+ Another by a Dutch.

+Plot.+ A third by a Moor, sir; born of two colours,
Just like a serjeant's man.

+Ware.+ Why, she has known, then,
All tongues and nations?

+Rose.+ She has been lain with farther
Than ever Coriat travell'd, and lain in
By two parts of the map, Afric and Europe,
As if the state maintain'd her to allay
The heat of foreigners.

+Ware.+ O, O, O, O!

+Plot.+ What ail you, sir?

+Ware.+ O nephew, I am not well, I am not well!

+Plot.+ I hope you are not married?

+Ware.+ It is too true.

+Rose.+ God help you, then!

+Ware.+ Amen. Nephew, forgive me.

+Rose.+ Alas! good gentleman!

+Plot.+ Would you trust Bannswright, sir?

+Ware.+ Nephew, in hell
There's not a torment for him. O that I could
But see that cheating rogue upon the rack now!
I'd give a thousand pound for every stretch,
That should enlarge the rogue through all his joints,
And but just show him hell, and then recall
His broken soul, and give him strength to suffer
His torture often. I would have the rascal
Think hanging a relief, and be as long
A-dying as a chopp'd eel, that the devil
Might have his soul by pieces. Who's here? a sailor?

SCENE IV.

_Enter +Cypher+, like a sailor._

+Cyph.+ Are you, sir, Warehouse the rich merchant?

+Ware.+ Sir, my name is Warehouse.

+Cyph.+ Then you are not, sir,
So rich by two ships as you were.

+Ware.+ How mean you?

+Cyph.+ Your two ships, sir, that were now coming home
From Ormus, are both cast away: the wreck
And burden on the place was valued at
Some forty thousand pound. All the men perish'd
By th' violence of the storm: only myself
Preserv'd my life by swimming, till a ship
Of Bristol took me up, and brought me home
To be the sad reporter.

+Ware.+ Was nothing sav'd?

+Cyph.+ Two small casks; one of blue figs, the other
Of pickled mushrooms, which serv'd me for bladders,
And kept me up from sinking. 'Twas a storm
Which, sir, I will describe to you. The winds
Rose of a sudden with that tempestuous force----

+Ware.+ Prythee, no more, I've heard too much. Would I
Had been i' th' tempest.

+Cyph.+ Good your worship, give
A poor seafaring man your charity
To carry me back again. I'm come above
A hundred mile to tell you this.

+Ware.+ Go in,
And let my factor, if he be come in,
Reward thee: stay and sup, too.

+Cyph.+ Thank your worship. [_Exit +Cypher+._

+Ware.+ Why should I not now hang myself? Or, if
It be a fate that will more hide itself,
And keep me from discredit, tie some weight
About my neck to sink me to the bottom
O' th' Thames, not to be found, [and so] to keep my body
From rising up and telling tales. Two wrecks,
And both worth forty thousand pound there! Why,
That landed here were worth an hundred. I
Will drown myself. I nothing have to do
Now in this world but drown myself.

+Plot.+ Fie! these
Are desperate resolutions. Take heart, sir;
There may be ways yet to relieve you.

+Ware.+ How?

+Plot.+ Why, for your lost ships, say, sir, I should bring
Two o' th' Assurance Office that should warrant
Their safe return? 'Tis not known yet: would you
Give three parts to secure the fourth?

+Ware.+ I'd give ten to secure one.

+Plot.+ Well, sir, and for your wife,
Say I should prove it were no lawful match,
And that she is another man's--you'd take
The piece of service well?

+Ware.+ Yes, and repent
That when I had so good an heir begot
Unto my hand, I was so rash to aim
At one of my own dotage.

+Plot.+ Say no more, sir;
But keep the sailor, that he stir not. We'll
About it straight. [_Exeunt +Plotwell+ and +Roseclap+._

+Ware.+ How much I was deceiv'd
To think ill of my nephew, in whose revenge
I see the heavens frown on me! Seas and winds
Swell and rage for him against me; but I will
Appease their furies, and be reconciled.

SCENE V.

[_Manet +Warehouse+._] _Enter +Seathrift+, +Mistress
Seathrift+, +Mistress Holland+, +Mistress
Scruple+._

+Mis. Sea.+ Much joy to you, sir; you have made quick despatch.
I like a man that can love, woo, and wed,
All in an hour. My husband was so long
A-getting me; so many friends' consents
Were to be ask'd, that when we came to church,
'Twas not a marriage, but our times were out,
And we were there made free of one another.

+Mis. Hol.+ I look'd to find you abed and a young sheriff
Begot by this. My husband, when I came
From church, by this time had his caudle: I
Had not a garter left, nor he a point.

+Mis. Scr.+ Surely, all that my husband did the first
Night we were married, was to call for one
Of his wrought caps more to allay his rheum.

+Mis. Hol.+ We hear y' have match'd a courtier, sir: a gallant:
One that can spring fire in your blood, and dart
Fresh flames into you.

+Mis. Sea.+ Sir, you are not merry:
Methinks you do not look as you were married.

+Mis. Hol.+ You rather look as you had lost your love.

+Mis. Scr.+ Or else, as if your spouse, sir, had rebuk'd you.

+Sea.+ How is it, sir? You see I have brought along
My fiddlers with me; my wife and Mistress Holland
Are good wind-instruments. 'Tis enough for me
To put on sadness.

+Ware.+ You, sir, have no cause.

+Sea.+ Not I! Ask Mistress Scruple. I have lost
My daughter, sir: she's stol'n. Then, sir, I have
A spendthrift to my son.

+Ware.+ These are felicities
Compar'd to me. You have not match'd a whore, sir,
Nor lost two ships at sea.

+Sea.+ Nor you, I hope?

+Ware.+ Truth is, you are my friends; I am abus'd,
Grossly fetch'd over. I have match'd a stew,
The notedst woman o' th' town.

+Mis. Sea.+ Indeed, I heard
She was a chambermaid.

+Mis. Hol.+ And they by their place
Do wait upon the lady, but belong
Unto the lord.

+Sea.+ But is this true?

+Ware.+ Here was
My nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell me
She has three children living; one dapple-grey,
Half Moor, half English: knows as many men
As she that sinned by th' calendar, and divided
The nights o' th' year with several men.

+Sea.+ Bless me, goodness!

+Ware.+ Then, like a man condemned to all misfortunes,
I have estated her in all I have.

+Sea.+ How!

+Ware.+ Under hand and seal, sir, irrecoverably.

SCENE VI.

_Enter +Salewit+._

+Mis. Hol.+ Look, Mistress Scruple, here's your husband.

+Sale.+ Be the leave of the fair companée.

+Mis. Scr.+ My husband!
His cold keeps him at home. Surely I take
This to be some Dutch elder.

+Sale.+ Where is
The breed an breedgroom? O monsieur, I'm com't
To give you zhoy, and bless your capòn; where
Is your fair breed?

+Ware.+ O Monsieur, you have join'd me
To a chaste virgin. Would, when I came to you,
Y' had used your ceremonies about my funeral.

+Sale.+ Fooneral? Is your breed dead?

+Ware.+ Would she were,
I'd double your fee, Monsieur, to bury her.

+Sale.+ Ee can but leetle English.

+Ware.+ No, I see you are but new come over.

+Sale.+ Dover! Tere Ee landed.

+Ware.+ Ay, sir, pray walk in; that door
Will land you in my dining-room.

+Sale.+ Ee tank you. [_Exit._

+Ware.+ This is the priest that married us.

+Sea.+ This is a Frenchman, is't not?

+Ware.+ 'Twas at the French church.

SCENE VII.

_Enter two +Footmen+, bearing the frame of a great
picture. Curtains drawn._

+1st Foot.+ Set 'em down gently; so.

+2d Foot.+ They make me sweat.
Pictures, quoth you; 'slight, they have weight enough
To be the parties.

+1st Foot.+ My lady, sir, has sent
A present to your wife.

+Ware.+ What lady, pray?

+1st Foot.+ Madam Aurelia, sir.

+Ware.+ O!----

+2d Foot.+ Sir, they are
A brace of pictures, with which my lady prays
She will adorn her chamber.

+Ware.+ Male pictures, pray,
Or female?

+1st Foot.+ Why d'you ask?

+Ware.+ Because, methinks,
It should be Mars and Venus in a net;
Aretine's postures,[261] or a naked nymph
Lying asleep, and some lascivious satyr
Taking her lineaments. These are pictures which
Delight my wife.

+2d Foot.+ These are night-pieces, sir.

+Mis. Hol.+ Lord, how I long to see 'em! I have at home
The finest ravish'd Lucrece.

+Mis. Scr.+ So have I
The finest fall of Babylon! There is
A fat monk spewing churches, save your presence.

+Mis. Hol.+ Pray, will you open 'em?

+1st Foot.+ My lady charged us
None should have sight of 'em, sir, but your wife.

+Ware.+ Because you make so dainty, I will see 'em.

[_Draws the curtain; within are
discovered +Bright+ and +Newcut+._

+2d Foot.+ 'Tis out of our commission.

+Ware.+ But not of mine. Hell and damnation!

+1st Foot.+ How do you like 'em, sir?

+Mis. Hol.+ Look, they are pictur'd in their clothes!

+Mis. Sea.+ They stir, too.

+2d Foot.+ Sir, they are drawn to life; a master's hand
Went to 'em, I assure you.

+Ware.+ Out, varlets, bawds!
Panders, avoid my house! O devil! are you
My wife's night-pieces? [_They come out._

+Bright.+ Sir, you are rude, uncivil,
And would be beaten.

+New.+ We cannot come in private
On business to your wife, but you must be
Inquisitive. Sir, thank God 'tis in your own house;
The place protects you.

+Bright.+ If such an insolence
'Scape unreveng'd, henceforth no ladies shall
Have secret servants.

+New.+ Here she comes; we'll ask
If she gave you commission to be so bold.

+Ware.+ Why this is far beyond example rare.
Now I conceive what is Platonic love:
'Tis to have men, like pictures, brought disguised,
To cuckold us with virtue. [_They whisper._

SCENE VIII.

_Enter +Dorcas+._

+Dor.+ He would not offer't, would he?

+Bright.+ We have been
In danger to be searched: hereafter we
Must first be question'd by an officer,
And bring it under hands we are no men,
Or have nought dangerous about us, before
We shall obtain access.

+New.+ We do expect
In time your husband, to preserve you chaste,
Should keep you with a guard of eunuchs, or
Confine you, like Italians, to a room
Where no male beast is pictur'd, lest the sight
Of aught that can beget should stir desires.

+Dor.+ I mar'l, sir, who did license you to pry,
Or spy out any friends that come to me;
It shows an unbred curiosity,
Which I'll correct hereafter. You will dare
To break up letters shortly, and examine
My tailor, lest, when he brings home my gown,
There, be a man in't. I'll have whom I list,
In what disguise I list, and when I list,
And not have your sour eyes so saucy to peep,
As if you, by prevention, meant to kill
A basilisk.

+Ware.+ Mistress, do what you list,
Send for your couch out, lie with your gallants there
Before us all: or, if you have a mind
To fellows that can lift weights, I can call
Two footmen too.

+Sea.+ You are too patient, sir:
Send for the marshal, and discharge your house.

+Mis. Sea.+ Truly a handsome woman! what pity 'tis
She is not honest. [_Aside._

+Mis. Hol.+ Two proper gentlemen, too.
Lord, that such pictures might be sent to me!

[_Aside._

SCENE IX.

_Enter +Plotwell+ and +Roseclap+, with +Bannswright+
and +Quartfield+ disguised._

+Ware.+ O nephew, welcome to my ransom! here
My house is made a new erection; gallants
Are brought in varied forms. Had I not look'd
By providence into that frame, these two
Had been convey'd for night-pieces and landskips
Into my chaste bride's chamber. Till now, she took
And let herself out; now she will be able
To hire and buy offenders.

+Plot.+ I'll ease you, sir;
We two have made a full discovery of her.

+Rose.+ She's married to another man, sir.

+Ware.+ Good nephew, thou art my blessed angel.
Who are these two?

+Plot.+ Two that will secure your ships,
Sent by the office. Seal you, sir: th' have brought
Th' assurance with 'em.

+Ware.+ Nephew, thou were't born
To be my dear preserver.

+Plot.+ It is duty, sir,
To help you out with your misfortunes. Gentlemen,
Produce your instruments. Uncle, put your seal
And write your name here; they will do the like
To the other parchment. So, now deliver.

[_They subscribe, seal, and deliver interchangeably._

+Ware.+ I do deliver this as my act and deed.

+Ban.+, +Quart.+ And we this, as our act and deed.

+Plot.+ Pray, gentlemen,
Be witness here. Upon a doubtful rumour
Of two ships wreck'd, as they return'd from Ormus,
My uncle covenants to give three parts
To have the fourth secured. And these two here,

[_+Seathrift+, +Roseclap+, +Bright+, and +Newcut+
subscribe as witnesses._

As delegates of the office, undertake
At that rate to assure them. Uncle, now
Call forth the sailor, and send for the priest
That married you.

_Enter +Salewit+ and +Cypher+._

+Ware.+ Look, here they come.

+Plot.+ First then,
Not to afflict you longer, uncle; since
We now are quiet, know all this was my project.

+Ware.+ How!

+Plot.+ Your two ships are richly landed: if
You'll not believe me, here's the sailor who, [_+Cypher+ undisguises._
Transform'd to Cypher, can tell you.

+Cyph.+ 'Tis very true, sir.
I hired this travelling case of one o' th' sailors
That came in one of 'em: they lie at Blackwall.
Troth, I in pity, sir, to Master Plotwell,
Thought it my duty to deceive you.

+Ware.+ Very well, sir;
What, are these masquers too?

+Plot.+ Faith, sir, these [_Exit +Cypher+._
Can change their forms too. They are two friends, [_They undisguise._
Worth threescore thousand pounds, sir, to my use.

+Ware.+ Bannswright and Captain Quartfield!

+Quart.+ Nay, old boy,
Th' hast a good pennyworth on't. The jest is worth
Three parts of four.

+Ban.+ Faith, sir, we hope you'll pay
Tonnage and poundage into th' bargain.

+Ware.+ O, you are a precious rogue! you ha' preferr'd me
To a chaste Lucrece, sirrah!

+Ban.+ Your nephew, sir,
Hath married her with all her faults. They are
New-come from church.

+Ware.+ How!

+Plot.+ Wonder not, sir: you
Were married but in jest. 'Twas no church-form,
But a fine legend out of Rab'lais.

+Sale.+ Troth,
This reverend weed cast off, I'm a lay poet, [_+Salewit+ undisguises._
And cannot marry, unless't be in a play--
In the fifth act or so; and that's almost
Worn out of fashion too.

+Mis. Sea.+ These are the two
That show'd my son. [_Aside._

+Mis. Hol.+ Let's have our money back. [_Aside._

+Plot.+ But, uncle, for the jointure you have made her
I hope you'll not retract. That and three parts
Of your two ships, besides what you will leave
Us at your death, will make a pretty stock
For young beginners.

+Ware.+ Am I o'erreach'd so finely?

+Sea.+ But are you married, sir, in earnest?

+Plot.+ Troth
We have not been abed yet, but may go,
And no law broken.

+Sea.+ Then I must tell you, sir,
Y' have wrong'd me; and I look for satisfaction.

+Plot.+ Why, I beseech you, sir?

+Sea.+ Sir, were not you
Betroth'd once to my daughter?

+Mis. Sea.+ And did not I
And Mistress Holland help to make you sure?

+Plot.+ I do confess it.

+Sea.+ Bear witness, gentlemen, he doth confess it.

+Plot.+ I'll swear it too, sir.

+Sea.+ Why,
Then, have you match'd this woman?

+Plot.+ Why! because
This is your daughter, sir. I'm hers by conquest
For this day's service.

+Sea.+ Is't possible I should
Be out in my own child so?

+Mis. Sea.+ I told you, husband.

+Mis. Scr.+ Surely my spirit gave me it was she;
And yet to see, now you have not your wire
Nor city ruff on, Mistress Sue, how these
Clothes do beguile! In truth, I took you for
A gentlewoman.

+Sea.+ Here be rare plots indeed!
Why, how now, sir, these young heads have outgone us.
Was my son o' th' plot too?

+Plot.+ Faith, sir, he
Is married too. I did strike up a wedding
Between him and my sister.

_Enter +Timothy+ and +Aurelia+._

Look, sir!
They come without their maidenheads.[262]

+Sea.+ Why, this
Is better still. Now, sir, you might have ask'd
Consent of parents.

+Tim.+ Pray forgive me, sir.
I thought I had match'd a lady, but she proves----

+Sea.+ Much better, sir: I'd chide you as a fish,
But that your choice pleads for you.

+Tim.+ Mother, pray
Salute my wife, and tell me if one may not
Lie with her lips: nay, you too, Mistress Holland,
You taught her to make shirts and bone-lace; she's
Out of her time now.

+Mis. Hol.+ I release her, sir.

+Ware.+ I took your sister for a lady, nephew.

+Plot.+ I kept her like one, sir. My Temple scores
Went to maintain the title out of hope
To gain some great match for her; which you see
Is come to pass.

+Ware.+ Well, Master Seathrift,
Things are just fallen out as we contriv'd 'em:
I grieve not I'm deceiv'd. Believe me, gentlemen,
You all did your parts well; 'twas carried cleanly;
And though I could take some things ill of you,
Fair mistress, yet 'twas plot, and I forget it.
Let's in and make 'em portions.

+Sea.+ Lead the way, sir.

+Ban.+ Pray stay a little.

+Ware.+ More revelations yet?

+Ban.+ I all this while have, stood behind the curtain.
You have a brother, sir, and you a father.

+Plot.+ If he do live, I have.

+Ban.+ He in his time
Was held the wealthiest merchant on th' Exchange.

+Ware.+ 'Tis true, but that his shipwrecks broke him.

+Ban.+ And
The debt for which he broke I hear you have
Compounded.

+Sea.+ I am paid it.

+Ban.+ Then I thank you. [_+Bannswright+ undisguises._

+Ware.+ My brother Plotwell!

+Ban.+ Son, I wish you joy.

+Plot.+ O my bless'd stars! my father!

+Ban.+ And to you, fair mistress,
Let it not breed repentance that I have,
For my security, to 'scape your father,
Awhile descended from myself to this
Unworthy shape. Now I can cast it off,
And be my true self. I have a ship which fame
Gave out for lost, but just now landed too,
Worth twenty thousand pounds, towards your match.

+Sea.+ Better and better still.

+Ware.+ Well, what was wanting
Unto our joys, and made these nuptials
Imperfect, brother, you by your discovery
Have fully added.

_Enter +Cypher+._

+Cyp.+ Sir, the two sheriffs are
Within, and have both brought their wives.

+Ware.+ The feast
Intended for my wedding shall be yours.

To which I add--_May you so love to say,
When old, your time was but one marriage-day._

FOOTNOTES:

[256] Dr Warburton observes (note to "Henry IV.," Part I., act ii. sc. 4) that in the persecutions of the Protestants in Flanders under Philip II. those who came over into England on that occasion brought with them the woollen manufactory. These being Calvinists were joined by those of the same persuasion from other countries, and amongst the rest from Geneva.

[257] _Rosemary_ was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory, and was therefore distributed at marriages and funerals. See a note on "Hamlet," x. 355, edit. 1778.

[258] [Old copies, _ach_.]

[259] The stately step and pompous manner, used by the prologue-speakers of the times, are still retained in delivering the few lines used as a prologue in "Hamlet." These particularities seem to have been delivered traditionally to the present race of actors from their brethren in the seventeenth century.

[260] See a note on "Timon of Athens," edit. 1778, viii. 409.--_Steevens._

[261] See [Randolph's Works, by Hazlitt, i. 209.] Aretine's _pictures_, there mentioned, were in fact Aretine's pictures of postures here alluded to.--_Collier._

[262] In the old copies the name of Penelope (_i.e._, Aurelia) is placed before this line, but it seems to belong to Plotwell, and to be a continuation of what he has just before said.--_Collier._

THE EPILOGUE AT WHITEHALL.

The author was deceiv'd; for, should the parts
And play which you have seen plead rules and arts,
Such as strict critics write by, who refuse
T' allow the buskin to the Comic Muse;
Whose region is the people, every strain
Of royalty being tragic, though none slain;
He'd now, Great Sir, hold all his rules untrue,
And think his best rules are the Queen and You.
He should have search'd the stories of each age,
And brought five acts of princes on the stage;
He should have taken measure, and rais'd sport
From persons bright and glorious as your court,
And should have made his argument to be
Fully as high and great as they that see.
Here, he confesseth, you did nothing meet,
But what was first a comedy i' th' street:
Cheapside brought into verse; no passage strange
To any here that hath been at th' Exchange.
Yet he hopes none doth value it so low,
As to compare it with my Lord Mayor's Show.
'Tis so unlike that some, he fears, did sit,
Who, missing pageants, did o'ersee the wit.
Since then his scene no pomp or highness boasts,
And low things grac'd show princes princes most,
Your royal smiles will raise't, and make him say,
He only wrote, your liking made, the play.

THE EPILOGUE AT BLACKFRIARS.

Once more the Author, ere you rise, doth say,
Though he have public warrant for his play,
Yet he to the King's command needs the King's writ
To keep him safe, not to be arraign'd for wit.
Not that he fears his name can suffer wrack
From them who sixpence pay and sixpence crack,
To such he wrote not; though some parts have been
So like here, that they to themselves came in.
To them who call't reproof to make a face,
Who think they judge, when they frown i' th' wrong place,
Who, if they speak not ill o' th' poet, doubt
They lose by the play, nor have their two shillings out;
He says, he hopes they'll not expect he'd woo,
The play being done, they'd end their sour looks too.
But before you, who did true hearers sit,
Who singly make a box, and fill the pit,
Who do[263] this comedy read, and unseen,
Had throng'd theatres and Blackfriars been,
He for his doom stands: your hands are his bays,
Since they can only clap who know to praise.

FOOTNOTES:

[263] [Old copy, _to_.]

THE QUEEN OF ARRAGON.

_EDITION._

_The Queene of Arragon. A Tragi-Comedie. London Printed by Tho.
Cotes, for William Cooke, and are to be sold at his shop at
Furnivals Inne gate in Holburne 1640. Folio._