Chapter XI: Part 11

_Uber._ You lye Boy, shee's better brought up than to lye with her
husband, Has he not cast his head yet? next year he will be a
velvet-headed Cuckold. [_Exeunt._

_Draw._ You are a merry Gentleman, there Sir, take hold.

_Enter_ Viola.

_Viola._ This is the place, I have out-told the Clock,
For haste, he is not here. _Richardo_? no;
Now every power that loves and is belov'd:
Keep me from shame to night, for all you know
Each thought of mine is innocent, and pure,
As flesh and blood can hold: I cannot back;
I threw the Key within, and ere I raise
My Father up, to see his daughters shame,
I'll set me down, and tell the Northern Wind,
That it is gentler than the curling West;
If it will blow me dead, but he will come;
I'faith 'tis cold; if he deceive me thus,
A woman will not easily trust a Man. Hark, What's that?

_Sil. within._ Th'art over long at thy pot, tom, tom, thou art over
long at the pot tom.

_Viol._ Bless me! Whose that?

_Pedro within._ Whoo!

_Uber. within._ There Boyes.

_Viol._ Darkness be thou my cover, I must fly,
To thee I haste for help--

_Enter_ Richardo, Pedro, Uberto, Drawer _with a Torch_.

_Viol._ They have a light,
Wind, if thou lov'st a Virgin, blow it out,
And I will never shut a window more,
To keep thee from me.

_Rich._ Boy?

_Draw._ Sir.

_Rich._ Why Boy?

_Draw._ What say you, Sir?

_Rich._ Why Boy? Art thou drunk Boy?

_Draw._ What would you, Sir?

_Rich._ Why very good, Where are we?

_Uber._ I, that's the point.

_Draw._ Why Sir, you will be at your Lodging presently.

_Rich._ I'll go to no lodging Boy.

_Draw._ Whither will you go then, Sir?

_Rich._ I'll go no farther.

_Draw._ For Gods sake, Sir, do not stay here all night.

_Rich._ No more I will not, Boy, lay me down, and rowle me to a Whore.

_Uber._ And me.

_Ped._ There spoke an--

_Silvio._ Then set your foot to my foot, and up tailes all.

_Viola._ That is _Richardo_, what a noise they make!
'Tis ill done on 'em: here, Sirs, _Richardo_?

_Rich._ What's that Boy?

_Draw._ 'Tis a Wench, Sir, pray Gentlemen come away.

_Viol._ O my dear love! How doest thou?

_Rich._ [My] sweet heart? even as thou seest.

_Ped._ Where's thy Wench?

_Uber._ Where's this bed worme?

_Viol._ Speak softly for the love of heaven.

_Draw._ Mistriss, get you gone, and do not entice the Gentlemen, now
you see they'r drunk, or I'll call the Watch, and lay you fast enough.

_Vio._ Alas, What are you? or, What do you mean?
Sweet love, Where's the place?

_Ric._ Marry sweet love, e'en here, lye down, I'll feese [you].

_Vio._ Good God! What mean you?

_Ped._ I'll have the Wench.

_Uber._ If you can get her.

_Sil._ No, I'll lye with the Wench to night, and she shall be yours
to morrow.

_Ped._ Let go the Wench.

_Sil._ Let you go the Wench.

_Viol._ O Gentlemen, as you had mothers!

_Uber._ They had no mothers; they are the Sons of bitches.

_Ric._ Let that be maintain'd.

_Sil._ Marry then.

_Viol._ Oh bless me heaven!

_Uber._ How many is there on's?

_Ric._ About five.

_Uber._ Why then lets fight three to three.

_Sil._ Content. [_Draw and fall down._

_Draw._ The Watch! the watch! the watch! Where are you? [_Exit._

_Ric._ Where are these Cowards?

_Ped._ There's the W[h]ore.

_Viol._ I never saw a drunken man before,
But these I think are so.

_Sil._ Oh!

_Ped._ I mist you narrowly there.

_Viol._ My state is such, I know not how to think,
A prayer fit for me, only I could move,
That never Maiden more might be in love. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Drawer, Constable _and_ Watch.

_Watch._ Where are they, Boy?

_Draw._ Make no such haste, Sir, they are no runners.

_Ub._ I am hurt, but that's all one, I shall light upon some of ye.
_Pedro_, thou art a tall Gentleman, let me kiss thee.

_Watch._ My friend.

_Uber._ Your friend? you lie.

_Ric._ Stand further off, the watch, you are full of fleas.

_Con._ Gentlemen, either be quiet, or we must make you quiet.

_Rich._ Nay, good Mr. Constable, be not so Rigorous.

_Uber._ Mr. Constable, lend me thy hand of Justice.

_Const._ That I will Sir.

_Uber._ Fy Mr. Constable, What golls you have! is Justice so blind
[She] cannot see to wash your hands? I cry you Mercy, Sir;
Your gloves are on.

_Draw._ Now you are up, Sir, Will you go to bed?

_Ped._ I'll truckle here, Boy, give me another pillow.

_Draw._ Will you stand up, and let me lay it on then?

_Ped._ Yes.

_Draw._ There hold him two of ye, now they are up, be going Mr.
Constable.

_Rich._ And this way, and that way, tom.

_Uber._ And here away, and there away, tom.

_Silv._ This is the right way, the others the wrong.

_Ped._ Th' others the wrong.

_All._ Thou art over-long at the pot, tom, tom.

_Rich._ Lead valiantly, sweet Constable, whoop! ha Boyes.

_Const._ This Wine hunts in their heads.

_Rich._ Give me the bill, for I'll be the Sergeant.

_Const._ Look to him, Sirs.

_Rich._ Keep your Ranks, you Rascalls, keep your Ranks. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scaena Prima._

_Enter_ Mercury.

_Mer._ I cannot sleep for thinking of this Asses Wife, I'll be gon
presently, there's no staying here, with this Devil about me; hoe,
this is the house of sleep, hoe! again there, 'sfoot, the darkness,
and this love together, will make me lunatick; ho!

_Enter a Servingman above unready._

_Ser._ Who calls there?

_Mer._ Pray take the pains to rise and light a candle.

_Ser._ Presently.

_Mer._ Was ever man but I in such a stocks? well, this shall be a
warning to me, and a fair one too, how I betray my self to such a
Dunce, by way of benefit.

_Enter_ Servingman.

_Ser._ Did you call?

_Mer._ Yes, pray do me the kindness, Sir, to let me out, and not [to]
enquire why, for I must needs be gone.

_Ser._ Not to night, I hope, Sir,

_Mer._ Good Sir to night, I would not have troubled you else, pray let
it be so.

_Ser._ Alas, Sir, my Master will be offended.

_Mer._ That I have business? no I warrant ye.

_Ser._ Good Sir take your rest.

_Mer._ Pray my good friend let me appoint my own rest.

_Ser._ Yes, Sir.

_Mer._ Then shew me the way out, I'll consider you.

_Ser._ Good Lord, Sir.

_Mer._ If I had not an excellent temper'd patience, now should I break
this fellows head, and make him understand 'twere necessary; the onely
plague of this house is the unhandsome love of servants, that ne'er do
their duty in the right place, but when they muster before dinner, and
sweep the Table with a wodden dagger, and then they are troublesome
too, to all mens shoulders, the Woodcocks flesht agen, now I shall
have a new stir.

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Why how now friend? What do you up so late? are you well? Do
you want any thing? pray speak.

_Mer._ Onely the cause I rise for.

_Ant._ What knaves are these? What do you want? why Sirrah?

_Mer._ Nothing i'th' World, but the keyes to let me out of dores; I
must be gon, be not against it, for you cannot stay me.

_Ant._ Be gon at this time? that were a merry jest.

_Mer._ If there be any mirth in't, make you use on't, but I must go.

_Ant._ Why for loves sake?

_Mer._ 'Twill benefit your understanding nothing to know the cause,
pray go to bed, I'll trouble your Man only.

_Ant._ Nay, Sir, you have rais'd more, that has reason to curse you,
and you knew all, my Wifes up, and coming down too.

_Mer._ Alas, it will be a trouble, pray go up to her, and let me
disturbe no more, 'tis unmannerly.

_Enter_ Wife _as out of her [b]ed_.

_Ant._ Shee's here already; sweet heart: How say you by this
Gentleman? he would away at midnight.

_Wife._ That I am sure he will not.

_Mer._ Indeed I must.

_Mar._ Good Sir let not your homely entertainment press you to leave
your bed at midnight; if you want, what my house or our town may
afford you, make it your own fault if you call not for it; pray go to
bed again; let me compel you, I am sure you have no power to deny a
Woman; the ayr is piercing, and to a body beaten with long travel,
'twill prove an ill Physitian.

_Mer._ If she speak longer I shall be a knave, as rank as ever sweat
for't; Sir, if you will send your Wife up presently, I will either
stay with you, d'ye mark me, or deliver you, so just a cause, that you
your self, shall thrust me out of dores, both suddenly, and willingly.

_Ant._ I would fain hear that 'faith, pray thee go up sweet heart, I
have half perswaded him, besides, he hath some private business with
me.

_Mar._ Good night, Sir, and what content you would have, I wish with
you. [_Exit._

_Mer._ Could any man that had a back ask more! O me! O me!

_Ant._ Now deal directly with me: Why should you go?

_Mer._ If you be wise do not enquire the cause, 'twill trouble you:

_Ant._ Why? prithee why?

_Mer._ 'Faith I would not have you know it, let me go, 'twill be far
better for you.

_Ant._ Who's that, that knocks there? i'st not at the street door?

_Ser._ Yes, Sir.

_Ant._ Who's there, cannot you speak?

_Within Vio._ A poor distressed Maid, for gods sake let me in.

_Mer._ Let her in and me out together, 'tis but one labor, 'tis pity
she should stand i'th' street, it seems she knows you.

_Ant._ There she shall stand for me, you are ignorant; this is a
common custome of the Rogues that lie about the loose parts of the
City.

_Mer._ As how?

_Ant._ To knock at doors in dead time of night, and use some feigned
voice to raise compassion, and when the doors are open, in they rush,
and cut the throats of all, and take the booty, we cannot be too
careful.

_Within Vi._ As ever you had pity let me in, I am undone else.

_Ant._ Who are you?

_Vio._ My name is _Viola_, a Gentlewoman, that ill chance hath
distressed, you know my Father.

_Mer._ Alas of god we'll let her in, 'tis one of the Gentlewomen were
here i'th' evening, I know her by her name, (poor soul) shee's cold I
warrant her, let her have my warme Bed, and I'll take her fortune;
come, pray come.

_Ant._ It is not _Viola_, that's certain, she went home to her
Fathers, I am sure.

_Via._ Will not you be so good to let me in?

_Ant._ I'll be so good to have you whipt away if you stay a little
longer: Shee's gone I warrant her, now let me know your cause, for I
will hear it, and not repent the knowing.

_Mer._ Since you are so importunate, I'll tell you, I love your Wife
extreamly.

_Ant._ Very well.

_Mer._ And so well that I dare not stay.

_Ant._ Why?

_Mer._ For wronging you, I know I am flesh and blood, and you have
done me friendships infinite and often, that must require me honest,
and a true Man, and I will be so, or I'll break my heart.

_Ant._ Why, you may stay for all this, methinks.

_Mer._ No, though I wood be good, I am no saint, nor is it safe to try
me, I deal plainly.

_Ant._ Come, I dare try you, do the best you can.

_Mer._ You shall not, when I am right agen, I'll come and see you,
till when, I'll use all Countryes, and all means, but I will lose this
folly, 'tis a Divel.

_Ant._ Is there no way to stay you?

_Mer._ No, unless you will have me such a villain to you, as all men
shall spit at me.

_Ant._ Do's she know you love her?

_Mer._ No, I hope not, that were recompence fit for a Rogue to render
her.

_Ant._ If ever any had a faithful friend, I am that Man, and I may
glory in't, this is he, that _ipse_, he that passes all Christendome
for goodness, he shall not over goe me in his friendship, 'twere
recreant and base, and I'll be hang'd first, I am resolv'd, go thy
wayes, a Wife [shall] never part us: I have consider'd, and I find her
nothing to such a friend as thou art; I'll speak a bold world, take
your time and woe her, you have overcome me clearly, and do what's
fitting with her, you conceive me, I am glad at heart you love her: by
this light, ne're stare upon me, for I will not flye from it, if you
had spoken sooner, sure you had been serv'd; Sir, you are not every
Man, now to your taske, I give you free leave, and the sin is mine if
there be any in it.

_Mer._ He will be hang'd before he makes this good, he cannot be so
innocent a Coxcombe, he can tell ten sure, if I had never known you as
I have done, I might be one, as others perhaps sooner, but now 'tis
impossible, there's too much good between us.

_Ant._ Well, thou art e'en the best man--I can say no more, I am, so
over-joy'd, you must stay this night, and in the morning go as early
as you please, I have a toy for you.

_Mer._ I thought this pill would make you sick.

_Ant._ But where you mean to be I must have notice,
And it must be hard by too, do you mark me?

_Mer._ Why, What's the matter?

_Ant._ There is a thing in hand.

_Mer._ Why? What thing?

_Ant._ A sound one, if it take right, and you be not peevish. We two
will be--you would little think it; as famous for our friendship--

_Mer._ How?

_Ant._ If [God] please, as ever _Damon_ was, and _Pytheas_; or
_Pylades_ and _Orestes_, or any two that ever were: do you conceive me
yet?

_Mer._ No, by my troth, Sir; he will not help me up sure.

_Ant._ You shall anon, and for our names, I think they shall live
after us, and be remember'd while there is a story; or [I] lose my
aime.

_Mer._ What a vengeance ailes he? How do you?

_Ant._ Yes faith, we two will be such friends, as the world shall ring
of.

_Mer._ And why is all this?

_Ant._ You shall enjoy my wife.

_Mer._ Away, away.

_Ant._ The wonder must begin, so I have cast it, 'twill be scurvy
else, you shall not stir a foot in't, pray be quiet till I have made
it perfect.

_Mer._ What shall a Man do with this wretched fellow? there is no
mercy to be used towards him, he is not capable of any pitty, he will
in spight of course be a Cuckold, And who can help it? must it begin
so needs Sir?--think agen.

_Ant._ Yes marry must it, and I my self will woe this woman for you,
Do you perceive it now? ha?

_Mer._ Yes, now I have a little sight ith' matter; O that thy head
should be so monstrous, that all thy Servants hats may hang upon't!
but do you meane to do this?

_Ant._ Yes certain, I will woe her, and for you, strive not against
it, 'tis the overthrow of the best plot that ever was then.

_Mer._ Nay, I'll assure you, Sir, I'll do no harm, you have too much
about you of your own.

_Ant._ Have you thought of a place yet?

_Mer._ A place?

_Ant._ I a place where you will bide, prethee no more of this modesty,
'tis foolish, and we were not determin'd to be absolute friends
indeed, 'twere tolerable.

_Mer._ I have thought, and you shall hear from me.

_Ant._ Why, this will gain me everlasting glory; I have the better of
him, that's my comfort, good night. [_Exit._

_Mer._ Good night, well go thy wayes, thou art the tydiest wittall
this day I think above ground, and yet thy end for all this must be
mottly. [_Exit._

_Enter a_ Tinker _with a Cord, and_ Dorothy.

_Tink._ 'Tis b[i]tter cold; a plague upon these Rogues, how wary they
are grown! not a door open now, but double barr'd; not a Window, but
up with a case of wood like a spice box, and their locks unpickable,
the very Smiths that were half venture[r]s, drink penitent, single
Ale, this is the Iron age, the Ballad sings of; well, I shall meet
with some of our loose Linnen yet, good fellows must not starve;
here's he shall shew God a mighties dog bolts, if this hold.

_Dorothy._ Faith thou art but too merciful, that's thy fault, thou art
as sweet a Thief, that sin excepted, as ever suffer'd, that's a proud
word, and I'll maintain it.

_Tinck._ Come, prethee let's shogg off, and browze an hour or two,
there's Ale will make a Cat speak, at the harrow, we shall get nothing
now, without we batter, 'tis grown too near morning, the Rogues sleep
sober, and are watchful.

_Dorit._ We want a Boy extreamly for this function, kept under for a
year, with milk, and knot-grass; in my time I have seen a boy do
wonders; _Robbin_ the red Tinker had a Boy, Rest his Soul, he suffer'd
this time 4 years, for two Spoons, and a Pewter Candlestick, that
sweet Man had a Boy, as I am Curstend Whore, would have run through a
Cat hole, he would have boulted such a piece of Linen in an evening--

_Tinck._ Well, we will have a Boy, prethee lets go, I am vengeance
cold I tell thee.

_Dorothy._ I'll be hang'd before I stir without some purchase, by
these ten bones, I'll turn she-ape, and untile a house, but I'll have
it, it may be I have a humor to be hang'd, I cannot tell.

_Enter_ Viola.

_Tinck._ Peace, you flead Whore, thou hast a mouth like a Bloodhound,
here comes a night-shade.

_Dorit._ A Gentlewoman Whore, by this darkness I'll case her to the
skin.

_Tinck._ Peace, I say.

_Viola._ What fear have I endur'd this dismal night!
And what disgrace, if I were seen and known!
In which this darkness onely is my friend,
That onely has undone me; a thousand curses
Light on my easie, foolish, childish love,
That durst so lightly lay a confidence
Upon a Man, so many being false;
My weariness, and weeping, makes me sleepy, I must lie down.

_Tinck._ What's this? a Prayer, or a Homily, or a Ballad of good
councel? she has a Gown, I am sure.

_Dor._ Knock out her brains, and then shee'll nee'r bite.

_Tinck._ Yes, I will knock her, but not yet, you? woman?

_Viol._ For Gods sake what are you?

_Tinck._ One of the groomes of your wardrobe, come, uncase, uncase;
byr Lady a good Kersey.

_Vio._ Pray do not hurt me, Sir.

_Dor._ Let's have no pitty, for if you do, here's that shall cut your
whistle.

_Viol._ Alas, what would you have? I am as miserable as you can make
me any way.

_Dor._ That shall be try'd.

_Vio._ Here, take my Gown, if that will do you pleasure.

_Tink._ Yes marry will it, look in the Pockets _Doll_, there may be
birds.

_Dor._ They are flown, a pox go with them, I'll have this Hat, and
this Ruffe too, I like it, now will I flourish like a Lady, brave,
I faith boy.

_Vio._ Y'are so gentle people to my seeming,
That by my truth I could live with you.

_Tin._ Could you so? a pretty young round wench, well bloudded, I am
for her, Theeves.

_Dor._ But by this I am not, coole your Codpiece, Rogue, or I'll clap
a spell upon't, shall take your edge off with a very vengeance.

_Tin._ Peace, horse-flesh, peace, I'll cast off my Amazon, she has
walk'd too long, and is indeed notorious, shee'll fight and scould,
and drink like one of the worthies.

_Dort._ Uds, pretious you young contagious Whore, must you be ticing?
and, Is your flesh so wranck, Sir, that two may live upon't? I am glad
to hear your Cortalls grown so lusty; he was dry founder'd t'other
day, wehee my pamper'd Jade of _Asia_.

_Vio._ Good Woman do not hurt me, I am sorry that I have given any
cause of anger.

_Dor._ Either bind her quickly, and come away, or by this steel I'll
[tell], though I truss for company; now could I eate her broyl'd, or
any way, without Vinegar, I must have her Nose.

_Vio._ By any thing you love best, good Sir, good Woman.

_Tin._ Why her Nose, _Dorothy_?

_Dor._ If I have it not, and presently [and] warm, I lose that I go
withal.

_Tin._ Wood the Devil had that thou goest withall, and thee together,
for sure he got thy whelps if thou hast any, shees thy deere dad,
Whore! put up your cutpurse; an I take my switch up, 'twill be a black
time with you else, sheth your bung Whore.

_Dor._ Will you bind her? we shall stand here prating, and be hang'd
both.

_Tin._ Come, I must bind you, not a word, no crying.

_Vio._ Do what you will, indeed I will not cry.

_Tin._ Hurt her not, if thou dost, by Ale and Beer, I'll clout thy old
bald brain pan, with a piece of Brass, you Bitch incarnate.
[_Exeunt_ Tinker _and_ Dorothy.

_Viola._ O [God], to what am I reserv'd, that knew not
Through all my childish hours and actions,
More sin, than poor imagination,
And too much loving of a faithless Man?
For which I'm paid, and so, that not the day
That now is rising to protect the harmless,
And give the innocent a sanctuary
From theeves and spoilers, can deliver me
From shame, at least suspition--

_Enter_ Valerio.

_Val._ Sirrah, lead down the horses easily, I'll walke a foot till I
be down the hill, 'tis very early, I shall reach home betimes. How
now, whose there?

_Vio._ Night, that was ever friend to Lovers, yet
Has rais'd some weary Soul, that hates his bed,
To come and see me blush, and then laugh at me.

_Val._ H'ad a rude heart that did this.

_Vio._ Gentle Sir,
If you have that which honest men call pitty,
And be as far from evil as you shew;
Help a poor Maid, that this night by bad fortune
Has been thus us'd by Robbers.

_Val._ A pox upon his heart that would not help thee, this Thief was
half a Lawyer by his bands, How long have you been tyed here?

_Viol._ Alas, this hour, and with cold and fear am almost perisht.

_Val._ Where were the watch the while? good sober Gent. they were like
careful members of the City, drawing in diligent Ale, and singing
catches, while Mr. Constable contriv'd the Tosts: these fellows would
be more severely punisht than wandring Gipsies, that every statute
whips; for if they had every one two eyes a piece more, three pots
would put them out.

_Viol._ I cannot tell, I found no Christian to give me succor.

_Val._ When they take a Thief, I'll take _Ostend_ agen; the whorsons
drink Opium in their Ale, and then they sleep like tops; as for their
bills, they only serve to reach down Bacon to make Rashers on; now let
me know whom I have done this courtesie too, that I may thank my early
rising for it.

_Viol._ Sir, All I am, you see.

_Val._ You have a name I'm sure, and a kindred, a Father, friend, or
something that must own you; shee's a handsome young Wench; What
Rogues were these to Rob her?

_Vio._ Sir, you see all I dare reveale,
And as you are a Gentleman press me no further;
For there begins a grief, whose bitterness
Will break a stronger heart than I have in me,
And 'twill but make you heavy with the hearing,
For your own goodness sake desire it not.

_Val._ If you would not have me enquire that, How do you live then?

_Viol._ How I have liv'd, is still one question,
Which must not be resolv'd--
How I desire to live, is in your liking,
So worthy an opinion I have of you.

_Val._ Is in my liking? How I pray thee? tell me, i'faith I'll do you
any good lies in my power; she has an eye would raise a bedrid man;
come, leave your fear, and tell me, that's a good Wench.

_Viol._ Sir, I would serve--

_Val._ Who would'st thou serve? do not weep and tell me.

_Viol._ Faith, Sir, even some good woman, and such a wife if you be
married, I do imagine yours.

_Val._ Alas! thou art young and tender, let me see thy hand, this was
ne'er made to wash, or wind up water, beat cloaths, or rub a floor, by
this light, for one use that shall be nameless, 'tis the best wanton
hand that e're I lookt on.

_Vio._ Dare you accept me, Sir, my heart is honest,
Among your vertuous charitable deeds,
This will not be the least.

_Val._ Thou canst in a Chamber?

_Vio._ In a Chamber, Sir?

_Val._ I mean wait there upon a Gentlewoman,
How quick she is, I like that mainly too;
I'll have her, though I keep her with main strength like a besieged
Town, for I know I shall have the Enemy afore me within a week.

_Viol._ Sir, I can sow too, and make pretty laces,
Dress a head handsome, teach young Gentlewomen,
For in all these I have a little knowledge.

_Val._ 'Tis well, no doubt I shall encrease that knowledge; I like her
better still, how she provokes me; pritty young Maid, you shall serve
a good Gentlewoman, though I say't, that will not be unwilling you
should please me, nor I forgetful if you do.

_Viol._ I am the happier.

_Val._ My man shall make some shift to carry you behind him, Can you
ride well?

_Viola._ But I'll hold fast for catching of a fall.

_Val._ That's the next way to pull another on you, I'll work her as I
go, I know shee's wax, now, now, at this time could I beget a Worthy
on this Wench.

_Viol._ Sir, for this Gentleness, may Heaven requite you tenfold.

_Val._ 'Tis a good Wench, however others use thee, be sure I'll be a
loving Master to thee, come. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Antonio _like an Irish Footman, with a Letter_.

_Ant._ I hope I am wild enough, for being known, I have writ a Letter
here, and in it have abus'd my self most bitterly, yet all my fear is
not enough, for that must do it, that must lay it on, I'll win her out
i'th' flint, 'twill be more famous, now for my language.

_Enter_ Servingman.

_Ser._ Now, Sir, Who would you speak with?

_Ant._ Where be thy Mastres Man? I would speak with her,
I have a Letter.

_Ser._ Cannot I deliver it?

_Ant._ No, by my trot, and fait, can'st thou not Man.

_Ser._ Well, Sir, I'll call her to you, pray shake your ears without a
little. [_Exit_ Servingman.

_Ant._ Cran a Cree do it quickly; this rebbel tonge sticks in my teeth
worse than a tough Hen, sure it was ne'er known at Babel, for they
sould no Apples, and this was made for certain at the first planting
of Orchards,'tis so crabbed.

_Enter_ Wife, _and_ Servingman.

_Mar._ What's he wood speak with me?

_Ser._ A kill kenny ring, there he stands Madam.

_Mar._ What would you have with me, friend?

_Ant._ He has a Letter for other Women, Wilt thou read it.

_Mar._ From whence?

_Ant._ De Crosse creest from my Master.

_Mar._ Who is your Master?

_Ant._ I pray do you look.

_Mar._ Do you know this fellow?

_Ser._ No Maddam, not I; more than an _Irish_ Footman, stand further
friend, I do not like your roperunners, What stallion Rogues are
these, to weare such dowsetts, the very Cotton may commit adultery.

_Mar._ I cannot find whose hand this should be, I'll read, To the
beauteous wife of _Don Antonio_, sure this is some blind scribe--well
now, What follows?

_Ant._ Pray God it take, I have given her that, will stir her
conscience, how it works with her; hope, if it be thy will, let the
flesh have it.

_Mar._ This is the most abhor'd, intollerable knavery, that ever slave
entertain'd, sure there is more than thine own head in this villany,
it goes like practic'd mischiefe; disabled in his body? O good God, as
I live he lies fearfully, and basely, ha? I should know that Jewel,
'tis my husband, come hither shat, Are you an Irish Man?

_Ant._ Sweete Woman a Cree I am an Irish man.

_Mar._ Now I know it perfectly; is this your trick, Sir? I'll trick
you for it; How long have you serv'd this Gentleman.

_Ant._ Please thee a little day, O my _Mac dermond_ put me to my
Mastree, 'tis don I know.

_Mar._ By my faith he speaks as well as if he had been lousy for the
language a year or two; well, Sir, you had been better have kept your
own shape as I will use you, What have I done that should deserve this
tryal? I never made him Cuckold, to my knowledge, Sirrah come hither.

_Ant._ Now will she send some Jewel, or some Letter, I know her mind
as well; I shall be famous.

_Mar._ Take this Irish bawde here.

_Ant._ How?

_Mar._ And kick him till his breeches and breech be of one colour, a
bright blew both.

_Ant._ I may be well swing'd thus, for I dare not reveale my self, I
hope she does not mean it, O hone, O hone, O St. _Patricke_, O a Cree,
O sweet Woman.

_Mar._ No, turn him, and kick him o't'other side, that's well.

_Ant._ O good waiting Man, I beseech thee good waiting man, a pox fyre
your Legs.

_Mar._ You Rogue, you enemy to all, but little breeches,
How dar'st thou come to me with such a Letter?

_Ant._ Prethee pitty the poor Irishman, all this makes for me, if I
win her yet, I am still more glorious.

_Mar._ Now could I weep at what I have done, but I'll harden my heart
agen, go shut him up, 'till my husband comes home, yet thus much ere
ye go, sirrah thach'd head, Would'st not thou be whipt, and think it
Justice? well _Aquavitae_ Barrel, I will bounce you.

_Ant._ I pray do, I beseech you be not angry.

_Mar._ O you hobby headed Rascal, I'll have you flead, and trossers
made of thy skin to tumble in, go a way with him, let him see no sun,
till my husband come home, Sir, I shall meet with you for your
knavery, I fear it not.

_Ant._ Wilt thou not let me go? I do not like this.

_Mar._ Away with him.

_Servingman._ Come, I'll lead you in by your Jack a lent hair, go
quietly, or I'll make your crupper crack.

_Mar._ And do you hear me, Sirrah? and when you have done, make my
Coach ready.

_Serving._ Yes forsooth. [_Exit_ Servingman _with_ Antonio.

_Mar._ Lock him up safe enough, I'll to this Gentleman, I know the
reason of all this business, for I do suspect it, If he have this
plot, I'll ring him such a peal, shall make his eares deaf for a month
at least. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Richardo.

_Ric._ Am I not mad? Can this weak temper'd head,
That will be mad with drink, endure the wrong
That I have done a Virgin, and my Love?
Be mad, for so thou ought'st, or I will beate
The walls and trees, down with thee, and will let
Either thy memory out, or madness in;
But sure I never lov'd fair _Viola_,
I never lov'd my Father, nor my Mother,
Or any thing but drink; had I had love;
Nay, had I known so much charity,
As would have sav'd an Infant from the fire,
I had been naked, raving in the street;
With halfe a face, gashing my self with knives,
Two houres ere this time.

_Enter_ Pedro, Silvio, Uberto.

_Ped._ Good morrow Sir.

_Rich._ Good morrow Gentlemen, shall we go drink agen?
I have my wits.

_Ped._ So have I, but they are unsetled ones, would I had some
porrige.

_Rich._ The Tavern boy was here this morning with me
And told me, that there was a Gentlewoman,
Which he took for a Whore, that hung on me:
For whom we quarrel'd, and I know not what.

_Ped._ I faith nor I.

_Ube._ I have a glimmering of some such thing.

_Rich._ Was it you, _Silvio_,
That made me drink so much? 'twas you or _Pedro_.

_Ped._ I know not who.

_Sil._ We [were] all apt enough.

_Rich._ But I will lay the fault on none but me,
That I would be so entreated, come _Silvio_,
Shall we go drink agen, come Gentlemen,
Why do you stay, let's never leave off now,
Whil'st we have Wine, and Throats, I'll practise it,
Till I have made it my best quality;
For what is best for me to do but that?
For [Gods] sake come and drink; when I am nam'd,
Men shall make answer, Which _Richardo_ mean you?
The excellent drinker? I will have it so,
Will you go drink?

_Silv._ We drunk too much too lately.

_Rich._ Why there is then the less behind to drink,
Let's end it all, dispatch that, wee'l send abroad,
And purchase all the Wine the world can yield,
And then drink it off, then take the fruits o'th' earth,
Distil the Juice from them, and drink that off;
Wee'l catch the rain before it fall to ground,
And drink off that that never more may grow;
Wee'l set our mouths to Springs, and drink them off,
And all this while wee'l never think of those
That love us best, more than we did last night.
We will not give unto the poor a drop
Of all this drink, but when we see them weep,
Wee'l run to them, and drink their tears off too,
Wee'l never leave whilst there is heat or moisture,
In this large globe, but suck it cold and dry,
Till we have made it Elemental earth,
Merely by drinking.

_Ped._ Is't flattery to tell you, you are mad?

_Rich._ If it be false,
There's no such way to bind me to a Man;
He that will have me, lay my goods and lands,
My life down for him, need no more, but say,
_Richardo_ thou art mad, and then all these
Are at his service, then he pleases me,
And makes me think that I had vertue in me,
That I had love, and tenderness of heart,
That though I have committed such a fault,
As never creature did, yet running mad,
As honest men should do for such a crime,
I have exprest some worth, though it be late:
But I alas have none of these in me,
But keep my wits still like a frozen Man,
That had no fire within him.

_Sil._ Nay, good _Richardo_ leave this wild talk, and send a letter to
her, I'll deliver it.

_Rich._ 'Tis to no purpose; perhaps she's lost last night,
Or she got home agen, she's now so strictly
Look'd to, the wind can scarce come to her, or admit
She were her self; if she would hear from me,
From me unworthy, that have us'd her thus,
She were so foolish, that she were no more
To be belov'd.

_Enter_ Andrugio _and_ Servant _with a Night-gown._

_Ser._ Sir, we have found this night-gown she took with her.

[_An._ Where?]

_Rich._ Where? where? speak quickly.

_Ser._ Searching in the Suburbs, we found a Tinker and his Whore that
had it in a Tap-house, whom we apprehended, and they confest they
stole it from her.

_Rich._ And murthered her?

_Sil._ What aile you man?

_Rich._ Why all this doth not make me mad.

_Sil._. It does, you would not offer this else, good _Pedro_ look to
his sword.

_Ser._ They do deny the killing of her, but swore they left her tyed
to a Tree, in the fields, next those Suburbs that are without our
Ladies gate, near day, and by the Rode, so that some passinger must
needs unty her quickly.

_And._ The will of Heaven be done! Sir, I will only entreat you this,
that as you were the greatest occasion of her loss, that you will be
pleased to urge your friends, and be your self earnest in the search
of her; if she be found, she is yours, if she please, I my self only,
see these people better examin'd, and after follow some way in search,
God keep you Gentlemen. [_Exit._

_Sil._ Alas good man!

_Ric._ What think you now of me, I think this lump
Is nothing but a piece of fleagme congeal'd
Without a soul, for where there's so much spirit
As would but warm a flea, those faults of mine
Would make it glow, and flame in this dull heart,
And run like molten gold through every sin,
Till it could burst these walls, and fly away.
Shall I intreat you all to take your horses,
And search this innocent?

_Ped._ With all our hearts.

_Ric._ Do not divide your selves till you come there,
Where they say she was ty'd, I'll follow too,
But never to return till she be found.
Give me my sword good _Pedro_, I will do
No harm, believe me, with it, I am now
Farr better temper'd; if I were not so,
I have enow besides, God keep you all,
And send us good success. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scaena Prima._

_Enter_ Mercury, _and_ Servant.

_Mer._ Who is it? can you tell?

_Ser._ By my troth, Sir, I know not, but 'tis a Gentlewoman.

_Mer._ A Gentleman, I'll lay my life, you puppy, h'as sent his Wife to
me: if he have, fling up the bed.

_Ser._ Here she is, Sir.

_Enter_ Wife _with a Letter_.

_Wife._ I am glad I found you Sir, there, take your Letter, and keep
it till you have another friend to wrong, 'tis too malicious false to
make me sin, you have provoked me to be that I love not, a talker,
and you shall hear me.
Why should you dare to imagine me
So light a huswife, that from four hours knowledge
You might presume to offer to my credit
This rude and ruffian tryal, I am sure
I never courted you, nor gave you tokens,
That might concern assurance, you are a fool.

_Mer._ I cannot blame you now, I see this letter,
Though you be angry, yet with me you must not,
Unless you'l make me guilty of a wrong,
My worst affections hate----

_Wife._ Did not you send it?

_Mer._ No, upon my faith, which is more, I understand it not; the hand
is as far from my knowledge, as the malice.

_Wife._ This is strange.

_Mer._ It is so, and had been stranger, and indeed more hateful,
Had I, that have receiv'd such courtesies, and owe so many
Thanks, done this base office.

_Wife._ Your name is at it.

_Mer._ Yes, but not my nature, and I shall hate my name worse than the
manner, for this base broking; you are wise and vertuous, remove this
fault from me; for on the love I bear to truth and goodness, this
Letter dare not name me for the author.

_Wife._ Now I perceive my husbands knavery, if [my] man can but find
where he has been, I will goe with this Gentleman whatsoever comes
on't: and as I mean to carry it, both he and all the World shall think
it fit, and thank me for it.

_Mer._ I must confess I loved you, at first, however this made me
leave your house unmannerly, that might provoke me to do something
ill, both to your honor and my faith, and not to write this Letter,
which I hold so truly wicked, that I will not think on't.

_Wife._ I do believe you, and since I see you are free, my words were
not meant to you, but this is not the half of my affliction.

_Mer._ 'Tis pitty you should know more vexation; may I enquire?

_Wife._ Faith, Sir, I fear I have lost my husband.

_Mer._ Your husband? it cannot be: I pitty her, how she's vext!

_Enter_ Servant.

_Wife._ How now? What news? nay speak, for we must know.

_Ser._ Faith I have found at length, by chance, where he has been.

_Wife._ Where?

_Ser._ In a blind out-house in the Suburbs, pray God all be well with
him.

_Wife._ Why?

_Serv._ There are his cloaths, but, What's become of him,
I cannot yet enquire.

_Wife._ I am glad of this; sure they have murther'd him,
What shall I do?

_Mer._ Be not so grieved, before you know the truth, you have time
enough to weep, this is the sodain'st mischief; Did you not bring an
Officer to search there, where you say you found his cloaths.

_Ser._ Yes, and we searcht it, and charg'd the fellow with him: but
he, like a Rogue, stubborn Rogue, made answer, he knew not where he
was; he had been there, but where he was now, he could not tell: I
tell you true, I fear him.

_Wife._ Are all my hopes and longings to enjoy him, After this 3 years
travel, come to this?

_Ser._ It is the rankest house in all the City, the most cursed roguy
Bawdy-house. Hell fire it.

_Mer._ This is the worst I heard yet; Will you go home? I'll bear you
company, and give you the best help I may: this being here will wrong
you.

_Wife._ As you are a Gentleman, and as you lov'd your dead friend,
let me not go home, that will but heap one sorrow on another.

_Mer._ Why propose any thing and I'll perform't; I am at my wits end
too.

_Ser._ So am I, O my dear Master!

_Mer._ Peace you great fool.

_Wife._ Then good Sir carry me to some retir'd place, far from the
sight of this unhappy City, whether you will indeed, so it be far
enough.

_Mer._ If I might Councel you, I think 'twere better to go home,
And try what may be done yet, he may be at home afore you, Who
can tell?

_Wife._ O no, I know he's dead, I know he's murder'd; tell me not of
going home, you murder me too.

_Mer._ Well, since it pleases you to have it so, I will no more
perswade you to go home, I'll be your guide in the Countrey, as your
grief doth command me, I have a Mother dwelling from this place some
20 miles: the house though homely, yet able to shew something like a
welcome; thither I'll see you safe with all your sorrows.

_Wife._ With all the speed that may be thought upon; I have a Coach
here ready, good Sir quickly; I'll fit you my fine husband.

_Mer._ It shall be so; if this fellow be dead, I see no band of any
other Man, to tye me from my will, and I will follow her with such
careful service, that she shall either be my Love, or Wife; Will you
walk in?

_Wife._ I thank you, Sir, but one word with my Man, and I am ready;
keep the _Irish_ fellow safe, as you love your life, for he I fear has
a deep hand in this, then search agen, and get out warrants for that
naughty man, that keeps the bad house, that he may answer it, if you
find the body, give it due burial; farewel. You shall hear from me,
keep all safe. [_Exeunt._

_Ser._ O my sweet Master!

Antonio _knocking within_.

_Ant. within._ Man-a-cree, the Devil take thee, Wilt thou kill me
here? I prethee now let me goe seek my Master, I shall be very cheel
else.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ Do you hear man-a-cree, I'll cree your coxcombe, and you keep
not still, down you rogue.

_Ant._ Good sweet fact serving-man, let me out I beseech de, and by my
trot I will give dye Worship 2 shillings in good argott, to buy dy
Worship pippines.

_Ser._ This rogue thinks all the worth of man consists in Peepins; by
this light I'll beat rebellion out of you for ever.

_Ant._ Wilt thou not hear me Man? is fet; I'll give thee all I have
about me.

_Ser._ I thank you, Sir, so I may have picking work.

_Ant._ Here is five shillings Man.

_Serv._ Here is a cudgel, a very good one.

_Enter two Serving-men._

_2. Ser._ How now, What's the matter? Where's the _Irishman_.

_1. Ser._ There, a wyth take him, he makes more noise alone there,
than ten Lawyers can do with double, and a scurvy Case.

_2. Ser._ Let him out, I must talk with him.

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Wilt thou give me some drink, O hone? I am very dry Man.

_2 Ser._ You shall have that shall quench your thirst, my friend.

_Ant._ Fate dost thou mean man.

_2 Ser._ Even a good tough halter.

_Ant._ A halter? O hone!

_2 Ser._ Sirrah, you are a mischievous Rogue, that's the truth.

_Ant._ No, fet I am not.

_1 Ser._ Shall I knock out his brains? I have kill'd dogs have been
worth three of him for all uses.

_2 Ser._ Sirrah, the truth on't is, you must with me to a Justice.
O _Roger, Roger_.

_1 Ser._ Why, what's the matter _William_?

_2 Ser._ Heavy news _Roger_, heavy newes; god comfort us.

_1 Ser._ What is't Man?

_Ant._ What's the matter now? I am e'en weary of this way, would I
were out on't.

_1 Ser._ My Master sure is murder'd, _Roger_, and this cursed rogue
I fear, has had a hand in't.

_Ant._ No fet not.

_1 Ser._ Stand away, I'll kickt out of him: come, sirrha, mount, I'll
make you dance, you Rascal, kill my Master? If thy breech were cannon
proof, having this good cause on my side, I would encounter it; hold
fair, _Shamrocke_.

_Ant._ Why how now Sirs? you will not murder me indeed.

_2 Ser._ Bless us _Roger_!

_Ant._ Nay, I am no spirit.

_2 Ser._ How do you Sir, this is my very Master.

_Ant._ Why well enough yet, but you have a heavy foot of your own;
Where's my Wife.

_1 Ser._ Alas poor sorrowful Gentlewoman, she thinks you are dead, and
has given o're house-keeping.

_Ant._ Whether is she gone then?

_1 Ser._ Into the Countrey with the Gentleman your Friend Sir, to see
if she can wear her sorrows out there; she weeps and takes on too
too--

_Ant._ This falls out pat; I shall be everlasting for a name: Doe you
hear? upon your lives and faiths to me, not one word I am living, but
let the same report pass along, that I am murther'd still; I am made
for ever.

_1 Ser._ Why Sir?

_Ant._ I have a Cause Sir, that's enough for you; well, if I be not
famous, I am wrong'd much; for any thing I know I will not trouble
him this week at least, no, let them take their way one of another.

_1 Ser._ Sir, Will you be still an _Irish-man_?

_Ant._ Yes a while.

_2 Ser._ But your Worship will be beaten no more?

_Ant._ No, I thank you _William_.

_1 Ser._ In truth, Sir, if it must be so, I'll do it better than a
stranger.

_Ant._ Goe, you are Knaves both, but I forgive you, I am almost mad
with the apprehension of what I shall be, not a word I charge you.
[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Valerio, _and_ Viola.

_Val._ Come, pretty soul, we now are near our home,
And whilst our horses are walkt down the hill,
Let thou and I walke here over this Close:
The foot-way is more pleasant, 'tis a time
My pretty one, not to be wept away,
For every living thing is full of love;
Art not thou so too? ha?

_Vio._ Nay, there are living things empty of love,
Or I had not been here, but for my self,
Alas, I have too much.

_Val._ It cannot be, that so much beauty, so much youth and grace
should have too much of love.

_Vio._ Pray what is love? for I am full of that I do not know.

_Val._ Why, love fair Maid is an extream desire,
That's not to be examin'd, but fulfill'd,
To ask the reason why thou art in love,
Or what might be the noblest end in love,
Would overthrow that kindly rising warmth,
That many times slides gently o'r the heart,
'Twould make thee grave and staid, thy thoughts would be,
Like a thrice married Widow, full of ends,
And void of all compassion, and to fright thee
From such enquiry, whereas thou art now
Living in ignorance, mild, fresh, and sweet,
And but sixteen; the knowing what love is,
Would make thee six and forty.

_Vio._ Would it would make me nothing, I have heard
Scholars affirm, the world's upheld by Love,
But I believe, women maintain all this,
For there's no love in men.

_Val._ Yes, in some men.

_Vio._ I know them not.

_Val._ Why, there is love in me.

_Vio._ There's charity I am sure towards me.

_Val._ And love; which I will now express, my pretty maid,
I dare not bring thee home, my wife is foul,
And therefore envious, she is very old,
And therefore jealous: thou art fair and young.
A subject fit for her unlucky vices
No work upon, she never will endure thee.

_Via._ She may endure
If she be ought, but Devil, all the friendship
That I will hold with you; can she endure
I should be thankful to you? may I pray
For you and her, will she be brought to think.
That all the honest industry I have,
Deserves brown bread? if this may be endur'd
She'll pick a quarrel with a sleeping child,
E'r she fall out with me.

_Val._ But trust me, she does hate all handsomness.

_Vio._ How fell you in love with such a creature?

_Val._ I never lov'd her.

_Vio._ And yet married her?

_Val._ She was a rich one.

_Vio._ And you swore I warrant you, she was a fair one then too.

_Val._ Or believe me, I think I had not had her.

_Vio._ Are you men all such? wou'd you wou'd wall us in a place
Where all we women that are innocent,
Might live together.

_Val._ Do not weep at this,
Although I dare not for some weighty reason
Displease my Wife, yet I forget not thee.

_Vio._ What will you do with me?

_Val._ Thou shalt be plac'd
At my mans house, and have such food and raiment
As can be bought with money: these white hands
Shall never learn to work, but they shall play
As thou say'st they were wont, teaching the strings
To move in order, or what else thou wilt.

_Vio._ I thank you, Sir, but pray you cloath me poorly,
And let my labor get me means to live.

_Val._ But fair one, you, I know do so much hate
A foul ingratitude, you will not look
I should do this for nothing.

_Vio._ I will work as much out as I can, and take as little,
That you shall have as duely paid to you
As ever servant did.

_Vol._ But give me now a trial on't, I may believe
We are alone, shew me how thou wilt kiss
And hug me hard, when I have stolen away
From my too clamorous wife that watches me,
To spend a blessed hour or t[w]o with thee.

_Vio._ Is this the love you mean? you would have that
Is not in me to give, you would have lust.

_Val._ Not to dissemble, or to mince the word,
'Tis Lust I wish indeed.

_Vio._ And by my troth I have it not: for heavens sake use
me kindly.
Though I be good, and shew perhaps a monster,
As this world goes.

_Val._ I do
But speak to thee, thy answers are thy own,
I compel none, but if [thou] refuse this motion,
Thou art not then for me, alas good soul;
What profit can thy work bring me?

_Vio._ But I fear, I pray goe, for lust they say, will grow
Outragious, being deni'd, I give you thanks
For all your courtesies, and there's a Jewel
That's worth the taking, that I did preserve
Safe from the robbers, pray you leave me here
Just as you found me, a poor innocent,
And Heaven will bless you for it.

_Val._ Pretty maid, I am no Robber, nor no Ravisher,
I pray thee keep thy Jewel, I have done
No wrong to thee, though thou beest virtuous
And in extremity, I do not know,
That I am bound to keep thee.