Chapter III: Act III: , Scene I

_Enter +John+ and the +Maid+._

+John.+ But, sirrah, canst tell what my mistress means to do
with her suitors?

+Maid.+ Nay, nay, I know not; but there is one of them, I am
sure, worth looking after.

+John.+ Which is he, I prythee?

+Maid.+ O John, Master Randall, John.

+John.+ The Welshman?

+Maid.+ The witty man, the pretty man, the singing-man. He has
the daintiest ditty, so full of pith, so full of spirit, as
they say.

+John.+ Ditties! they are the old ends of ballads.[65]

+Maid.+ Old ends! I am sure they are new beginnings with me.

+John.+ Here comes my mistress.

_Enter +Widow+ and +Jarvis+._

+Wid.+ Who was that knocked at the gate?

+Jar.+ Why, your Welsh wooer.

+Maid.+ Alas! the sight on's eyes is enough to singe my little
maidenhead. I shall never be able to endure him. [_Exit +Maid+._

_Enter +Randall+._

+Ran.+

_When high King Henry rul'd this land,[66]
The couple of her name,
Besides hur queen was tearly lov'd,
A fair and princely--widows._

Hark you, widows; Randalls was disturbed in cogitations about
lands, ploughs, and cheesepresses in Wales; and, by cat, hur
have forgot where hur and hur meet soon at pright dark evenings.

+Wid.+ Why, on the 'Change, in the Dutch walks.

+Ran.+ O haw, have hur? but Randalls was talk no Dutch; pray
meet her in the Welsh walk. Was no Welsh walk there?

+Wid.+ Fie, no! There are no Welsh merchants there?

+Ran.+ Mass, was fery true, was all shentlemen in Wales. Hur
never saw hur shambermaid; pray, where was her shambermaid?

+Jar.+ Taken up i' th' kitchen, sir.

+Ran.+ Can hur make wedding-ped pravely for Randalls and widows?

+Wid.+ Pray tell him, Jarvis, whe'r[67] she can or no.

+Jar.+ Sir, not to delay, but to debilitate the strength of
your active apprehension of my mistress's favour----

+Ran.+ Was fery good words.

+Jar.+ Hark in your ear: she will have her nest feathered with
no British breed.

+Ran.+ Sounds, was not British so good as English?

+Jar.+ Yes, where there's wisdom, wit, and valour; but, as
amongst our English, we may have one fool, a knave, a coxcomb,
and a coward, she bid me tell you, she has seen such wonders
come out of Wales. In one word,[68] you're an ass, and she'll
have none of you.

+Ran.+ Augh, Saint Tavie, Owen, Morgan, and all hur cousins!
was widow herself say so?

+Wid.+ Good sir, let every circumstance make up one answer,
take it with you.

+Jar.+ And the Roman answer is, the English goose, sir.[69]

+Ran.+ Sounds! hur was kill now! Gog and Gogmagog! a whole
dozen of shiants. Make fool of Randalls! Randalls was wisht to
as prave match as widows; was know one Mary Bloodhound, was
ha' all, when her father kick up heels; and, by cat, though
hur never saw hur, hur will send hur love-letters presently,
get hur good-wills, and go to shurch and marry, and hur were
eight-and-thirty, two hundred and nine and fifty widows. Mark
hur now. [_Exit +Randall+._

+Jar.+ He pelts as he goes pitifully.

+Wid.+ Where's Mary?

+John.+ Mary!

_Enter +Maid+._

+Wid.+ Pray go to Aldgate, to my sempstress, for my ruff; I
must use it, say, to-morrow. Did ye bid her hollow it just in
the French fashion cut?

+Maid.+ Yes, forsooth.

+Wid.+ 'Twas well; we have no other proof in use that we are
English, if we do not zany them. Let John go with you.

+Maid.+ Yes, forsooth. [_Exit._

+Jar.+ But pray, forsooth, how do you mean to dispose of your
suitors?

+Wid.+ Shall I tell thee? For this, thou hast given him his
cure, and he is past care; for old Bloodhound the sawmonger,
I writ to him to meet me soon, at ten in the dark, upon the
'Change; and if I come not by ten, he should stay till twelve:
intimating something mystically that, to avoid surprisals of
other rivals, I mean to go from thence with him to lie at his
house all night, and go to church with him i' th' morning; when
my meaning is only knavery, to make myself merry, and let him
cool his heels[70] there till morning.

+Jar.+ And now have I a whimsy, newly jumped into the coll of
ingenious apprehension, to sauce him daintily; that for that.
What think you of the gentleman that brought a stool with him
out of the hall, and sat down at dinner with you in the parlour?

+Wid.+ They say he's an ancient, but I affect not his colours.

+Jar.+ But what say you to the mad, victorious Alexander?

+Wid.+ A wild, mad roarer, a trouble not worth minding.

+Jar.+ He will mind you ere morning, troth, mistress.
[_Aside._] There waits a gentleman i' th' next room that hath a
long time loved you, and has watched for such an hour, when all
was out of doors, to tell you so; and, none being within but
you and I, he desires you would hear him speak, and there's an
end on't.

+Wid.+ What is he?

+Jar.+ An honest man.

+Wid.+ How know you?

+Jar.+ Why, he told me so.

+Wid.+ And why were you such a fool to take his own word.

+Jar.+ Because all the wit I had could get nobody's else.

+Wid.+ A knave will ever tell you he's an honest man.

+Jar.+ But an honest man will never tell you he's a knave.

+Wid.+ Well, sir, your mistress dares look upon the honest man.

+Jar.+ And the honest man dares look upon my mistress. [_Exit._

+Wid.+ 'Tis the roughest, bluntest fellow. Yet, when I take
young Bloodhound to a retired collection of scattered judgment,
which often lies disjointed with the confused distraction of so
many, methinks he dwells in my opinion a right ingenious[71]
spirit, veiled merely with the vanity of youth and wildness.
He looks, methinks, like one that could retract himself from
his mad starts, and, when he pleased, turn tame. His handsome
wildness, methinks, becomes him, could he keep it bounded in
thrift and temperance. But down, these thoughts; my resolve
rests here in private.

But from a fool, a miser, and a man too jealous for a little
sweetness [in] love, Cupid defend me!

_Enter +Jarvis+ like a gentleman, very brave, with his
former clothes in his hand._[72]

+Jar.+ And to a widow wise, nobly liberal and discreetly
credulous, Cupid hath sent me.

+Wid.+ Pray prove you, as you appear, a gentleman.
Why, Jarvis?

+Jar.+ Look you, here's Jarvis hangs by geometry [_Hangs up his
livery_]; and here's the gentleman--for less I am not--that
afar off, taken with the fainted praises of your wealthy
beauty, your person, wisdom, modesty, and all that can make
woman gracious, in this habit sought and obtained your service.

+Wid.+ For heaven's sake whats your intent?

+Jar.+ I love you.

+Wid.+ Pray, keep off.

+Jar.+ I would keep from you. Had my desires bodies,
How I could beat them into better fashion,
And teach them temperance. For I rid to find you;
And, at a meeting amongst many dames,
I saw you first. O, how your talking eyes,
Those active, sparkling sweet, discoursing[73] twins,
In their strong captivating motion told me
The story of your heart! A thousand Cupids,
Methought, sat playing on that pair of crystals,[74]
Carrying, to the swiftness of covetous fancy,
The very letters we spell love with.

+Wid.+ Fie, fie!

+Jar.+ I have struck her to the heart, though my face
Apparelled with this shield of gravity, [bear][75]
The neglected roughness of a soldier's dart.
These diamond-pointed eyes but hither throw,
And you will see a young spring on't; but question
Time's fair ones, they'll confess, though with a blush.
They have often found good wine at an old bush.
My blood is young, and full of amorous heats,
Which but branch'd out into these lusty veins,
Would play and dally, and in wanton turnings
Would teach you strange constructions, [madam.]
Let time and place then, with love's old friend,
Opportunity, instruct you to be wise.

+Wid.+ Alas, sir!
Where learned you to catch occasions thus?

+Jar.+ Of a lawyer's clerk, wench, that, with six such catches,
leaped in five years from his desk to his coach, drawn with
four horses.

+Wid.+ Do you mean marriage?

+Jar.+ Marriage is a cloying meat; marry who thou woot to make
a show to shroud thee from the storms round-headed opinion,
that sways all the world, may let fall on thee. Me cousin thou
shalt call. Once in a month or so, I'll read false letters from
a far-distant uncle, insert his commendations to thee, hug thy
believing husband into a pair of handsome horns; look upon him
with one eye, and wink upon thee with the other. Wouldst have
any more?

+Wid.+ The return of servants, or some friendly visit, will
intercept us now: re-assume your habit, and be but Jarvis till
to-morrow morning, and, by the potent truth of friendship, I
will give you plenty of cause to confess I love you truly and
strongly.

+Jar.+ You're in earnest?

+Wid.+ On my life, serious; let this kiss seal it.

+Jar.+ The softest wax ever sealed bawdy business! Now for old
Bloodhound: I'll meet you upon the 'Change, sir, with a blind
bargain, and then help your son to a good pennyworth; this
night shall be all mirth, a mistress of delight. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Bloodhound+_,[76] +Sim+, _and +Moll+._

+Blood.+ Nay, nay, nay, mark what follows; I must bring her
home i' th' dark, turn her up to bed, and here she goes to
church. My cloak, sirrah.

+Sim.+ 'Tis a very dark night, sir; you'll not have a cloak for
the rain.[77]

+Blood.+ I'm going to steal the widow from I know not how many.

+Sim.+ Nay, then I'll let your cloak for the rain alone, and
fetch you a cloak for your knavery.

+Blood.+ To bed, to bed, good Sim. What, Moll, I say!

+Moll.+ Sir.

+Blood.+ I charge you, let not one be up i' th' house but
yourself after the clock strikes ten, nor a light be stirring.
Moll, trick up the green bed-chamber very daintily.

+Moll.+ I shall, sir.

+Blood.+ And--well-remembered, Moll--the keys of my
compting-house are in the left pocket of my hose[78] above i'
th' wicker chair; look to them, and have a care of the black
box there I have often told thee of: look to that as to thy
maidenhead.

+Moll.+ I shall, sir.

+Blood.+ Pray for me, all; pray for me, all.

+Sim.+ Have you left out anything for supper?

+Blood.+ Out, rogue! shall not I be at infinite expense
to-morrow? fast to-night, and pray for me.

+Sim.+ An old devil in a greasy satin doublet keep you company!
[_Aside._

+Blood.+ Ha, what's that?

+Sim.+ I say, the satin doublet you will wear to-morrow will be
the best in the company, sir.

+Blood.+ That's true, that's true. I come, widow, I come,
wench. [_Exit +Bloodhound+._

+Moll.+ O sweet Sim, what shall I do to-morrow? To-morrow must
be the day, the doleful day, the dismal day! Alas, Sim! what
dost thou think in thy conscience I shall do with an old man?

+Sim.+ Nay, you're well enough served; you know how your
brother, not an hour ago, lay at you to have the Ancient, one
that your teeth e'en water at; and yet you cry, I cannot love
him, I wonnot have him.

+Moll.+ I could willingly marry him, if I might do nothing but
look on him all day, where he might not see me; but to lie with
him--alas! I shall be undone the first night.

+Sim.+ That's true: how will you go to bed else? But, remember,
he is a man of war, an ancient, you are his colours: now, when
he has nimbly displayed you, and handsomely folded you up
against the next fight, then we shall have you cry, O sweet
Sim, I had been undone, if I had not been undone.[79]

+Moll.+ Nay, and then the old fellow would mumble me to bed.

+Sim.+ Abed! a bawd with two teeth would not mumble bacon so:
then he is so sparing, you shall wear nothing but from the
broker's at second-hand; when, being an ancient's wife, you
shall be sure to flourish.

+Moll.+ Prythee, go in and busy the old man with a piece of
Reynard the Fox,[80] that he may not disturb us; for at this
hour I expect Ancient Young and my brother.

+Sim.+ Well, I leave you to the managing of Ancient Young,
while I go in and flap the old man i' th' mouth with a
fox-tail. [_Exit._

_Enter +Alexander+ and +Ancient+._

+Moll.+ Look, look, an' he have not brought him just upon the
minute. O sweet, silken Ancient, my mind gives me thee and I
shall dance the shaking of the sheets[81] together.

+Alex.+ Now, you Mistress Figtail, is the wind come about yet?
I ha' brought the gentleman: do not you tell him now, you
had rather have his room than his company, and so show your
breeding.

+Moll.+ Now, fie upon you; by this light you're the wickedest
fellow! My brother but abuses you: pray, sir, go over again,
you've a handsome spying wit, you may send more truth over in
one of your well-penned pamphlets, than all the weekly news we
buy for our penny.

+Anc.+ Pox on't! I'll stay no longer.

+Alex.+ 'Sfoot, thou shalt stay longer; we'll stay her
heart--her guts out.

+Moll.+ Ha, ha! how will you do for a sister then?

+Alex.+ Prythee, Moll, do but look upon him.

+Moll.+ Yes, when I ha' no better object.

+Alex.+ What canst thou see in him, thou unhandsome hideous
thing, that merits not above thee?

+Moll.+ What would I give to kiss him! [_Aside._

+Alex.+ Has he not a handsome body, straight legs,[82] a good
face?

+Moll.+ Yes, but his lips look as if they were as hard as his
heart.

+Anc.+ 'Sfoot, shalt try that presently.

+Moll.+ You're basely, sir, conditioned. Pah!

+Alex.+ Why do you spit?

+Moll.+ You may go. By this light, he kisses sweetly. [_Aside._

+Alex.+ Do but stay a little, Moll: prythee, Moll, thou knowest
my father has wronged him; make him amends, and marry him.

+Moll.+ Sweet Master Spendall, spare your busy breath; I must
have a wise man, or else none.

+Alex.+ And is not he a wise man?

+Moll.+ No.

+Alex.+ Why?

+Moll.+ Because he keeps a fool company.

+Alex.+ Why, you are now in's company.

+Moll.+ But birds of a feather will fly together; and you and
he are seldom asunder.

+Alex.+ Why, you young witch, call your elder brother fool!
But go thy ways, and keep thy maidenhead till it grow
more deservedly despised than are the old base boots of a
half-stewed pander: lead a Welsh morris with the apes in hell
amongst the little devils; or, when thou shalt lie sighing by
the side of some rich fool, remember, thou thing of thread and
needles, not worth threepence halfpenny.

+Moll.+ Too late, I fear; I ha' been too coy. [_Aside._] You
are to be married then, sir?

+Anc.+ I am indeed, sweet mistress, to a maid Of excellent
parentage, breeding, and beauty.

+Alex.+ I ha' thought of such musicians for thee!

+Anc.+ But let it not be any way distasteful unto you, that
thus I tried you; for your brother persuaded me to pretend
to love you, that he might perceive how your mind stood to
marriage, in that, as I guess, he has a husband kept in store
for you.

+Alex.+ Ay, I have provided a husband for thee, Moll.

+Moll.+ But I'll have no husband of your providing; for, alas!
now I shall have the old man, whether I will or no.

+Alex.+ I have such a stripling for thee, he wants one eye, and
is crooked-legged; but that was broke at football.

+Anc.+ Alas! we cannot mould men, you know.

+Alex.+ He's rich, he's rich, Moll.

+Moll.+ I hate him and his riches. Good sir, are you to be
married in earnest?

+Alex.+ In earnest! Why, do you think men marry, as fencers
sometimes fight, in jest? Shall I show her Mistress Elizabeth's
letter I snatched from thee? [_To +Ancient+._

+Anc.+ Not, and thou lovest me.

+Moll.+ Good brother, let me see it; sweet brother, dainty
brother, honey brother.

+Alex.+ No indeed, you shall not see it, sweet sister, dainty
sister, honey sister.

+Moll.+ O good sir, since so long time I have loved you, let me
not die for your sake.

+Alex.+ The tide turns. [_Aside._

+Anc.+ Long time loved me!

+Moll.+ Long ere you went to sea, I did.
I have lov'd you very long with all my heart.

+Alex.+ Think of Bess, think of Bess; 'tis the better match.

+Moll.+ You wicked brother! Indeed I love you better than all
the Besses in the world; and if to-night I shift not into
better fortunes, to-morrow I am made the miserablest wife
marriage and misery can produce.

+Alex.+ Is't possible?

+Moll.+ Alas, sir! I am to marry an old man--a very old man,
trust me. I was strange[83] in the nice timorous temper of a
maid: I know 'tis against our sex to say we love; but rather
than match with sixty and ten, threescore and ten times I would
tell you so, and tell them ten times over, too. Truth loves not
virtue with more of virtuous truth than I do you; and wonnot
you love me then? [_Weeps._

+Anc.+ And lie with thee too, by this hand, wench. Come, let
us have fair weather; thou art mine, and I am thine; there's
an end o' th' business. This was but a trick, there's the
projector.

+Moll.+ O, you're a sweet brother!

+Alex.+ And now thou'rt my sweet sister. I know the old man's
gone to meet with an old wench that will meet with him,[84]
or Jarvis has no juice in his brains; and while I, i' th'
meantime, set another wheel agoing at the widow's, do thou
soon--about ten, for 'tis to be very conveniently dark--meet
this gentleman at the Nag's Head corner, just against
Leadenhall. We lie in Lime Street; thither he shall carry thee,
accommodate thee daintily all night with Mistress Dorothy, and
marry i' th' morning very methodically.

+Moll.+ But I have the charge of my father's keys, where all
his writings lie.

+Anc.+ How all things jump in a just equivalency,
To keep thee from the thing of threescore and ten!
Didst thou not see my mortgage lately there?

+Moll.+ Stay, stay.

+Alex.+ A white devil with a red fox-tail in a black box.
[_Aside._

+Moll.+ But yesterday my father showed it me, and swears, if I
pleased him well, it should serve to jump[85] out my portion.

+Anc.+ Prove thine old dad a prophet; bring it with thee, wench.

+Moll.+ But now, at's parting, he charged me to have a care to
that as to my maidenhead.

+Alex.+ Why, if he have thy maidenhead and that into the
bargain, thy charge is performed. Away, get thee in, forget
not the hour; and you had better fight under Ancient Young's
colours than the old man's standard of sixty and ten.

+Anc.+[86] Remember this, mad-brain! [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[65] [Old copy, _ends of old ballets_.]

[66] A stanza, with some alterations, of the old ballad of "Fair Rosamond," [printed in Deloney's "Garland of Good-Will."] See Percy's "Reliques," vol. ii.

[67] See note on p. 47.

[68] The 4º reads _in one shirt_.--_Collier._

[69] A pun on the Latin word _anser_, which signifies a _goose_.

[70] To _cool his heels_ is a very common expression, which for some reason, or perhaps no reason, was altered in the edition of 1780, to _cool himself_.--_Collier._

[71] _Ingenious_ and _ingenuous_ were formerly used indiscriminately for each other. [The truth seems to be that ingenuous was merely understood formerly in the sense in which we use it now, and that _ingenious_, on the contrary, had a larger meaning, standing generally for the gifts of the mind or intellect. Old-fashioned people only would say of such an one, "He's an ingenious man," meaning a person of intellectual culture.]

[72] The stage direction in the old copy is not very intelligible: _Enter like a gentleman very brave, with Jarvis cloaths in's hand._--_Collier._

[73] The 4º reads _sweet discovered twins_.--_Collier._

[74] A common expression to signify the eyes. See several instances in Mr Steevens's note on "King Henry V.," act ii. sc. 3.

[75] [The text has been changed here, with what degree of success the reader has to determine. In the former editions it stood thus--

"Through my face
Apparelled with this field of gravity,
The neglected roughness of a soldier's dart."

Perhaps this passage was intended as an _aside_.]

[76] The 4º has _Enter Bloodhound, Ear-lack with letters, Sim, and Moll._ But as there is no business nor speech for Ear-lack during the whole scene, I have expunged his name.

[77] [An allusion to the proverb, "He has a cloak for every rain"--_i.e._, an expedient for every turn of fortune.]

[78] Mr Reed altered _hose_ to _coat_ without any warrant whatever.--_Collier._

[79] A parody of that Latin saying, _Periissem nisi periissem_.--_Pegge._

[80] _i.e._, The story-book with that name, [first printed in 1481. The abridged and modernised version was probably the one with which Moll was familiar. The earliest edition of this yet discovered is dated 1620.]--_Steevens._

[81] [A play on the name of] a dance, [which is constantly mentioned in old plays.]

[82] [Old copy, _legg'd_.]

[83] _i.e._, Shy, coy. See note to "Cymbeline," act i. sc. 7, edit. 1778.--_Steevens._

[84] _i.e._, Be even with him. The phrase occurs in Shakespeare's "Much Ado about Nothing," act i. sc. 1. See note thereon.--_Stevens._

[85] _Jump_ is the word in the 4º, though altered in the edit. of 1780 without notice to _eke_. Moll only repeats the term used by the Ancient just before--

"How all things jump in a just equivalency."

--_Collier._

[86] [Old copy gives this speech to Moll.]