Chapter V: Act III: Scene I

_Enter_ ROSE _and_ WARNER _meeting_.

_Rose._ Your worship's most happily encountered.

_Warn._ Your ladyship's most fortunately met.

_Rose._ I was going to your lodging.

_Warn._ My business was to yours.

_Rose._ I have something to say to you that----

_Warn._ I have that to tell you----

_Rose._ Understand then----

_Warn._ If you'll hear me----

_Rose._ I believe that----

_Warn._ I am of opinion, that----

_Rose._ Pry'thee hold thy peace a little, till I have done.

_Warn._ Cry you mercy, Mrs Rose; I'll not dispute your ancient privilege of talking.

_Rose._ My mistress, knowing Sir John was to be abroad upon business this afternoon, has asked leave to see a play: And Sir John has so great a confidence of your master, that he will trust no body with her, but him.

_Warn._ If my master gets her out, I warrant her, he shall shew her a better play than any is at either of the houses--here they are: I'll run and prepare him to wait upon her. [_Exit._

_Enter old_ MOODY, _Mrs_ MILLISENT, _and Lady_ DUPE.

_Mill._ My hoods and scarfs there, quickly.

_L. Dupe._ Send to call a coach there.

_Mood._ But what kind of man is this Sir Martin, with whom you are to go?

_L. Dupe._ A plain down-right country-gentleman, I assure you.

_Mood._ I like him much the better for it. For I hate one of those you call a man of the town, one of those empty fellows of mere out-side: They have nothing of the true old English manliness.

_Rose._ I confess, sir, a woman's in a bad condition, that has nothing to trust to, but a peruke above, and a well-trimmed shoe below.

_To them Sir_ MARTIN.

_Mill._ This, sir, is Sir John's friend; he is for your humour, sir; he is no man of the town, but bred up in the old Elizabeth way of plainness.

_Sir Mart._ Ay, madam, your ladyship may say your pleasure of me.

_To them_ WARNER.

_Warn._ How the devil got he here before me! 'Tis very unlucky I could not see him first.

_Sir Mart._ But, as for painting, music, poetry, and the like, I'll say this of myself----

_Warn._ I'll say that for him, my master understands none of them, I assure you, sir.

_Sir Mart._ You impudent rascal, hold your tongue: I must rid my hands of this fellow; the rogue is ever discrediting me before company.

_Mood._ Never trouble yourself about it, sir, for I like a man that----

_Sir Mart._ I know you do, sir, and therefore I hope you'll think never the worse of me for his prating: For, though I do not boast of my own good parts----

_Warn._ He has none to boast of, upon my faith, sir.

_Sir Mart._ Give him not the hearing, sir; for, if I may believe my friends, they have flattered me with an opinion of more----

_Warn._ Of more than their flattery can make good, sir; 'tis true he tells you, they have flattered him; but, in my conscience, he is the most down-right simple-natured creature in the world.

_Sir Mart._ I shall consider you hereafter, sirrah; but I am sure in all companies I pass for a virtuoso.

_Mood._ Virtuoso! What's that too? is not virtue enough without O so?

_Sir Mart._ You have reason, sir.

_Mood._ There he is again too; the town phrase; a great compliment I wis! _you have reason, sir_; that is, you are no beast, sir.

_Warn._ A word in private, sir; you mistake this old man; he loves neither painting, music, nor poetry; yet recover yourself, if you have any brains. [_Aside to him._

_Sir Mart._ Say you so? I'll bring all about again, I warrant you.--I beg your pardon a thousand times, sir; I vow to gad I am not master of any of those perfections; for, in fine, sir, I am wholly ignorant of painting, music, and poetry; only some rude escapes; but, in fine, they are such, that, in fine, sir----

_Warn._ This is worse than all the rest.
[_Aside._

_Mood._ By coxbones, one word more of all this gibberish, and old Madge shall fly about your ears: What is this, _in fine_, he keeps such a coil with too?

_Mill._ 'Tis a phrase _a-la-mode_, sir; and is used in conversation now, as a whiff of tobacco was formerly in the midst of a discourse for a thinking while.

_L. Dupe._ In plain English, _in fine_ is, in the end, sir.

_Mood._ But, by coxbones, there is no end on't, methinks: If thou wilt have a foolish word to lard thy lean discourse with, take an English one when thou speakest English! as, so sir, and then sir, and so forth; 'tis a more manly kind of nonsense: And a pox of, _in fine_, for I'll hear no more on't.

_Warn._ He's gravelled, and I must help him out. [_Aside_.] Madam, there's a coach at the door, to carry you to the play.

_Sir Mart._ Which house do you mean to go to?

_Mill._ The Duke's, I think.

_Sir Mart._ It is a damn'd play, and has nothing in't.

_Mill._ Then let us to the king's.

_Sir Mart._ That's e'en as bad.

_Warn._ This is past enduring. [_Aside_.] There was an ill play set up, sir, on the posts; but I can assure you the bills are altered since you saw them, and now there are two admirable comedies at both houses.

_Mood._ But my daughter loves serious plays.

_Warn._ They are tragi-comedies, sir, for both.

_Sir Mart._ I have heard her say, she loves none but tragedies.

_Mood._ Where have you heard her say so, sir?

_Warn._ Sir, you forget yourself; you never saw her in your life before.

_Sir Mart._ What, not at Canterbury, in the Cathedral church there? This is the impudentest rascal----

_Warn._ Mum, sir.

_Sir Mart._ Ah Lord, what have I done! As I hope to be saved, sir, it was before I was aware; for if ever I set eyes on her before this day, I wish--

_Mood._ This fellow is not so much fool, as he makes one believe he is.

_Mill._ I thought he would be discovered for a wit: This 'tis to over-act one's part! [_Aside._

_Mood._ Come away, daughter, I will not trust you in his hands; there's more in it than I imagined. [_Exeunt_ MOODY, MILL. _Lady_ DUPE, _and_ ROSE.

_Sir Mart._ Why do you frown upon me so, when you know your looks go to the heart of me? What have I done besides a little _lapsus linguae_?

_Warn._ Why, who says you have done any thing? You, a mere innocent!

_Sir Mart._ As the child that's to be born, in my intentions; if I know how I have offended myself any more than----in one word----

_Warn._ But don't follow me, however: I have nothing to say to you.

_Sir Mart._ I'll follow you to the world's end, till you forgive me.

_Warn._ I am resolved to lead you a dance then.
[_Exit running._

_Sir Mart._ The rogue has no mercy in him; but I must mollify him with money. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_Enter Lady_ DUPE.

_L. Dupe._ Truly, my little cousin's the aptest scholar, and takes out love's lessons so exactly, that I joy to see it; She has got already the bond of two thousand pounds sealed for her portion, which I keep for her; a pretty good beginning: 'Tis true, I believe he has enjoyed her, and so let him; Mark Antony wooed not at so dear a price.

_Enter, to her_, CHRISTIAN.

_Chr._ O madam, I fear I am breeding!

_L. Dupe._ A taking wench! but 'tis no matter; have you told any body?

_Chr._ I have been venturing upon your foundations, a little to dissemble.

_L. Dupe._ That's a good child; I hope it will thrive with thee, as it has with me: Heaven has a blessing in store upon our endeavours.

_Chr._ I feigned myself sick, and kept my bed; my lord, he came to visit me, and, in the end, I disclosed it to him, in the saddest passion!

_L. Dupe._ This frightened him, I hope, into a study how to cloak your disgrace, lest it should have vent to his lady.

_Chr._ 'Tis true; but all the while I subtly drove it, that he should name you to me as the fittest instrument of the concealment; but how to break it to you, strangely does perplex him. He has been seeking you all over the house; therefore, I'll leave your ladyship, for fear we should be seen together. [_Exit._

_L. Dupe._ Now I must play my part; Nature, in women, teaches more than art.

_Enter Lord._

_Lord._ Madam, I have a secret to impart; a sad one too, and have no friend to trust, but only you.

_L. Dupe._ Your lady, or your children, sick?

_Lord._ Not that I know.

_L. Dupe._ You seem to be in health.

_Lord._ In body, not in mind.

_L. Dupe._ Some scruple of conscience, I warrant; my chaplain shall resolve you.

_Lord._ Madam, my soul's tormented.

_L. Dupe._ O take heed of despair, my lord!

_Lord._ Madam, there is no medicine for this sickness, but only you; your friendship's my safe haven, else I am lost, and shipwrecked.

_L. Dupe._ Pray tell me what it is.

_Lord._ Could I express it by sad sighs and groans, or drown it with myself in seas of tears, I should be happy,--would, and would not tell.

_L. Dupe._ Command whatever I can serve you in; I will be faithful still to all your ends, provided they be just and virtuous.

_Lord._ That word has stopt me.

_L. Dupe._ Speak out, my lord, and boldly tell what 'tis.

_Lord._ Then, in obedience to your commands; your cousin is with child.

_L. Dupe._ Which cousin?

_Lord._ Your cousin Christian, here in the house.

_L. Dupe._ Alas! then she has stolen a marriage, and undone herself: Some young fellow, on my conscience, that's a beggar; youth will not be advised: well, I'll never meddle more with girls; one is no more assured of them, than grooms of mules; they'll strike when least one thinks on't: But pray, your lordship, what is her choice then for a husband?

_Lord._ She----is not married, that I know of, madam.

_L. Dupe._ Not married! 'tis impossible; the girl does sure abuse you. I know her education has been such, the flesh could not prevail; therefore, she does abuse you, it must be so.

_Lord._ Madam, not to abuse you longer, she is with child, and I the unfortunate man, who did this most unlucky act.

_L. Dupe._ You! I'll never believe it.

_Lord._ Madam, 'tis too true; believe it, and be serious how to hide her shame; I beg it here upon my knees.

_L. Dupe._ Oh, oh, oh!
[_She faints away._

_Lord._ Who's there? Who's there? Help, help, help!

_Enter two women_, ROSE, _and Mrs_ MILLISENT.

_1 Wom._ O merciful God, my lady's gone!

_2 Wom._ Whither?

_1 Wom._ To heaven; God knows, to heaven!

_Rose._ Rub her, rub her; fetch warm clothes!

_2 Wom._ I say, run to the cabinet of quintessence; Gilbert's water! Gilbert's water!

_1 Wom._ Now all the good folks of heaven look down upon her!

_Mill._ Set her in the chair.

_Rose._ Open her mouth with a dagger or a key; pour, pour! Where's the spoon?

_2 Wom._ She stirs! she revives! merciful to us all! what a thing was this? speak, lady, speak!

_L. Dupe._ So, so, so!

_Mill._ Alas! my lord, how came this fit?

_Lord._ With sorrow, madam.

_L. Dupe._ Now I am better: Bess, you have not seen me thus?

_1 Wom._ Heaven forefend that I should live to see you so again.

_L. Dupe._ Go, go, I'm pretty well; withdraw into the next room; but be near, I pray, for fear of the worst. [_They go out_.] My lord, sit down near me, I pray; I'll strive to speak a few words to you, and then to bed; nearer, my voice is faint. My lord, heaven knows how I have ever loved you; and is this my reward? Had you none to abuse but me in that unfortunate fond girl, that you know was dearer to me than my life? This was not love to her, but an inveterate malice to poor me. Oh, oh! [_Faints again._

_Lord._ Help, help, help!

_All the women again._

_1 Wom._ This fit will carry her: Alas, it is a lechery!

_2 Wom._ The balsam, the balsam!

_1 Wom._ No, no, the chemistry oil of rosemary: Hold her up, and give her air.

_Mill._ Feel whether she breathes, with your hand before her mouth.

_Rose._ No, madam, 'tis key-cold.

_1 Wom._ Look up, dear madam, if you have any hope of salvation!

_2 Wom._ Hold up your finger, madam, if you have any hope of fraternity. O the blessed saints, that hear me not, take her mortality to them!

_L. Dupe._ Enough, so, 'tis well--withdraw, and let me rest a while; only my dear lord remain.

_1 Wom._ Pray your lordship keep her from swebbing.
[_Exeunt women._

_Lord._ Here humbly, once again, I beg your pardon and your help.

_L. Dupe._ Heaven forgive you, and I do: Stand up, my lord, and sit close by me: O this naughty girl! But did your lordship win her soon?

_Lord._ No, madam, but with much difficulty.

_L. Dupe._ I'm glad on't; it shewed the girl had some religion in her; all my precepts were not in vain: But you men are strange tempters; good my lord, where was this wicked act, then, first committed?

_Lord._ In an out-room, upon a trunk.

_L. Dupe._ Poor heart, what shifts love makes! Oh, she does love you dearly, though to her ruin! And then, what place, my lord?

_Lord._ An old waste room, with a decayed bed in't.

_L. Dupe._ Out upon that dark room for deeds of darkness! and that rotten bed! I wonder it did hold your lordship's vigour: But you dealt gently with the girl. Well, you shall see I love you: For I will manage this business to both your advantages, by the assistance of heaven I will; good my lord, help, lead me out. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ WARNER _and_ ROSE.

_Rose._ A mischief upon all fools! do you think your master has not done wisely? First to mistake our old man's humour; then to dispraise the plays; and, lastly, to discover his acquaintance with my mistress: My old master has taken such a jealousy of him, that he will never admit him into his sight again.

_Warn._ Thou makest thyself a greater fool than he, by being angry at what he cannot help. I have been angry with him too; but these friends have taken up the quarrel. [_Shews gold_.] Look you, he has sent these mediators to mitigate your wrath: Here are twenty of them have made a long voyage from Guinea to kiss your hands: And when the match is made, there are an hundred more in readiness to be your humble servants.

_Rose._ Rather than fall out with you, I'll take them; but I confess, it troubles me to see so loyal a lover have the heart of an emperor, and yet scarce the brains of a cobler.

_Warn._ Well, what device can we two beget betwixt us, to separate Sir John Swallow and thy mistress?

_Rose._ I cannot on the sudden tell; but I hate him worse than foul weather without a coach.

_Warn._ Then I'll see if my project be luckier than thine. Where are the papers concerning the jointure I have heard you speak of?

_Rose._ They lie within, in three great bags; some twenty reams of paper in each bundle, with six lines in a sheet: But there is a little paper where all the business lies.

_Warn._ Where is it? Canst thou help me to it?

_Rose._ By good chance he gave it to my custody, before he set out for London. You came in good time; here it is, I was carrying it to him; just now he sent for it.

_Warn._ So, this I will secure in my pocket; when thou art asked for it, make two or three bad faces, and say it was left behind: By this means, he must of necessity leave the town, to see for it in Kent.

_Enter Sir_ JOHN, _Sir_ MARTIN, _and Mrs_ MILLISENT.

_Sir John._ 'Tis no matter, though the old man be suspicious; I knew the story all beforehand; and since then you have fully satisfied me of your true friendship to me.--Where are the writings? [_To_ ROSE.

_Rose._ Sir, I beg your pardon; I thought I had put them up amongst my lady's things, and it seems, in my haste, I quite forgot them, and left them at Canterbury.

_Sir John._ This is horribly unlucky! where do you think you left them?

_Rose._ Upon the great box in my lady's chamber; they are safe enough, I'm sure.

_Sir John._ It must be so--I must take post immediately: Madam, for some few days I must be absent; and to confirm you, friend, how much I trust you, I leave the dearest pledge I have on earth, my mistress, to your care.

_Mill._ If you loved me, you would not take all occasions to leave me thus.

_Warn._ [_Aside_.] Do, go to Kent, and when you come again, here they are ready for you. [_Shews the paper._

_Sir Mart._ What's that you have in your hand there, sirrah?

_Warn._ Pox, what ill luck was this! what shall I say?

_Sir Mart._ Sometimes you have tongue enough; what, are you silent?

_Warn._ 'Tis an account, sir, of what money you have lost since you came to town.

_Sir Mart._ I am very glad on't: Now I'll make you all see the severity of my fortune----give me the paper.

_Warn._ Heaven! what does he mean to do? It is not fair writ out, sir.

_Sir John._ Besides, I am in haste; another time, sir----

_Sir Mart._ Pray, oblige me, sir; 'tis but one minute: All people love to be pitied in their misfortunes, and so do I: will you produce it, sirrah?

_Warn._ Dear master!

_Sir Mart._ Dear rascal! am I master, or you, you rogue?

_Warn._ Hold yet, sir, and let me read it: You cannot read my hand.

_Sir Mart._ This is ever his way to be disparaging me; but I'll let you see, sirrah, that I can read your hand better than you yourself can.

_Warn._ You'll repent it; there's a trick in't, sir.

_Sir Mart._ Is there so, sirrah? but I'll bring you out of all your tricks with a vengeance to you----[_Reads_.] How now! What's this? A true particular of the estate of Sir John Swallow, knight, lying and situate in, &c.

_Sir John._ This is the very paper I had lost: I'm very glad on't; [_Takes the paper_.] it has saved me a most unwelcome journey--but I will not thank you for the courtesy, which now I find you never did intend me--this is confederacy, I smoke it now--come, madam, let me wait on you to your father.

_Mill._ Well, of a witty man, this was the foolishest part that ever I beheld. [_Exeunt Sir_ JOHN, MILLISENT, _and_ ROSE.

_Sir Mart._ I am a fool, I must confess it; and I am the most miserable one without thy help--but yet it was such a mistake as any man might have made.

_Warn._ No doubt of it.

_Sir Mart._ Pr'ythee chide me! this indifference of thine wounds me to the heart.

_Warn._ I care not.

_Sir Mart._ Wilt thou not help me for this once?

_Warn._ Sir, I kiss your hands, I have other business.

_Sir Mart._ Dear Warner!

_Warn._ I am inflexible.

_Sir Mart._ Then I am resolved I'll kill myself.

_Warn._ You are master of your own body.

_Sir Mart._ Will you let me damn my soul?

_Warn._ At your pleasure, as the devil and you can agree about it.

_Sir Mart._ D'ye see, the point's ready? Will you do nothing to save my life?

_Warn._ Not in the least.

_Sir Mart._ Farewell, hard-hearted Warner.

_Warn._ Adieu, soft-headed Sir Martin.

_Sir Mart._ Is it possible?

_Warn._ Why don't you despatch, sir? why all these preambles?

_Sir Mart._ I'll see thee hanged first: I know thou wouldst have me killed, to get my clothes.

_Warn._ I knew it was but a copy of your countenance; people in this age are not so apt to kill themselves.

_Sir Mart._ Here are yet ten pieces in my pocket; take 'em, and let's be friends.

_Warn._ You know the easiness of my nature, and that makes you work upon it so. Well, sir, for this once I cast an eye of pity on you; but I must have ten more in hand, before I can stir a foot.

_Sir Mart._ As I am a true gamester, I have lost all but these; but if thou'lt lend me them, I'll give 'em thee again.

_Warn._ I'll rather trust you till to-morrow; Once more look up, I bid you hope the best. Why should your folly make your love miscarry, Since men first play the fools, and then they marry? [_Exeunt._