Chapter VI: Act IV: Scene I

_Before a Tavern._

_Enter_ GNOTHO, BUTLER, BAILIFF, TAILOR, COOK, DRAWER,
_and_ COURTEZAN.

DRAW. Welcome, gentlemen; will you not draw
near? will you drink at door, gentlemen?
BUT. O, the summer air’s best.
DRAW. What wine will[’t] please you drink, gentlemen?
BUT. De Clare, sirrah. [_Exit_ DRAWER.
GNOTH. What, you’re all sped already, bullies?
COOK. My widow’s a’ the spit, and half ready,
lad; a turn or two more, and I have done with her.
GNOTH. Then, cook, I hope you have basted her
before this time.
COOK. And stuck her with rosemary too, to
sweeten her; she was tainted ere she came to my
hands. What an old piece of flesh of fifty-nine,
eleven months, and upwards! she must needs be
fly-blown.
GNOTH. Put her off, put her off, though you lose
by her; the weather’s hot.
COOK. Why, drawer!

_Re-enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. By and by:—here, gentlemen, here’s the
quintessence of Greece; the sages never drunk better
grape.
COOK. Sir, the mad Greeks of this age can taste their
Palermo as well as the sage Greeks did before ’em.—Fill,
lick-spiggot.
DRAW. _Ad imum_, sir.
GNOTH. My friends, I must doubly invite you all, the
fifth of the next month, to the funeral of my first
wife, and to the marriage of my second, my two to one;
this is she.
COOK. I hope some of us will be ready for the funeral of
our wives by that time, to go with thee: but shall they
be both of a day?
GNOTH. O, best of all, sir; where sorrow and joy meet
together, one will help away with another the better.
Besides, there will be charges saved too; the same
rosemary that serves for the funeral will serve for the
wedding.
BUT. How long do you make account to be a widower, sir?
GNOTH. Some half an hour; long enough a’ conscience.
Come, come, let’s have some agility; is there no music
in the house?
DRAW. Yes, sir, here are sweet wire-drawers in the
house.
COOK. O, that makes them and you seldom part; you are
wine-drawers, and they wire-drawers.
TAIL. And both govern by the pegs too.
GNOTH. And you have pipes in your consort[213] too.
DRAW. And sackbuts too, sir.
BUT. But the heads of your instruments differ; yours are
hogs-heads, their[s] cittern and gittern-heads.
BAIL. All wooden heads; there they meet again.
COOK. Bid ’em strike up, we’ll have a dance,
Gnotho;[214] come, thou shalt foot[215] it too.
[_Exit_ DRAWER.
GNOTH. No dancing with me, we have Siren here.
COOK. Siren! ’twas Hiren, the fair Greek,[216] man.
GNOTH. Five drachmas of that. I say Siren, the fair
Greek, and so are all fair Greeks.
COOK. A match; five drachmas her name was Hiren.
GNOTH. Siren’s name was Siren, for five drachmas.
COOK. ’Tis done.
TAIL. Take heed what you do, Gnotho.[217]
GNOTH. Do not I know our own countrywomen, Siren and
Nell of Greece, two of the fairest Greeks that ever
were?
COOK. That Nell was Helen of Greece too.
GNOTH. As long as she tarried with her husband, she was
Ellen; but after she came to Troy, she was Nell of Troy,
or Bonny Nell, whether you will or no.
TAIL. Why, did she grow shor[t]er when she came to Troy?
GNOTH. She grew longer,[218] if you mark the story. When
she grew to be an ell, she was deeper than any yard of
Troy could reach by a quarter; there was Cressid was
Troy weight, and Nell was avoirdupois;[219] she held
more, by four ounces, than Cressida.
BAIL. They say she caused many wounds to be given in
Troy.
GNOTH. True, she was wounded there herself, and cured
again by plaster of Paris; and ever since that has been
used to stop holes with.

_Re-enter_ DRAWER.

DRAW. Gentlemen, if you be disposed to be merry, the
music is ready to strike up; and here’s a consort[220]
of mad Greeks, I know not whether they be men or
women, or between both; they have, what-you-call-’em,
wizards[221] on their faces.
COOK. Vizards, good man lick-spiggot.
BUT. If they be wise women, they may be wizards too.
DRAW. They desire to enter amongst any merry company of
gentlemen good-fellows, for a strain or two.

_Enter old_ WOMEN _and_ AGATHA _in masks_.

COOK. We’ll strain ourselves with ’em, say; let ’em
come, Gnotho;[222] now for the honour of Epire!
GNOTH. No[223] dancing with me, we have Siren here.
[_A dance by the old_ WOMEN _and_ AGATHA;
_they offer to take the men, all agree
except_ GNOTHO, _who sits with the_
COURTEZAN.[224]
COOK. Ay! so kind! then every one his wench to his
several room; Gnotho,[225] we are all provided now, as
you are.
[_Exeunt all but_ GNOTHO, COURTEZAN, _and_
AGATHA.
GNOTH. I shall have two, it seems: away! I have Siren
here already.
AGA. What, a mermaid?[226] [_Takes off her mask._
GNOTH. No, but a maid, horse-face: O old woman! is it
you?
AGA. Yes, ’tis I; all the rest have gulled themselves,
and taken their own wives, and shall know that they have
done more than they can well answer; but I pray you,
husband, what are you doing?
GNOTH. Faith, thus should I do, if thou wert dead, old
Ag; and thou hast not long to live, I’m sure: we have
Siren here.
AGA. Art thou so shameless, whilst I am living, to keep
one under my nose?
GNOTH. No, Ag, I do prize her far above thy nose; if
thou wouldst lay me both thine eyes in my hand to boot,
I’ll not leave her: art not ashamed to be seen in a
tavern, and hast scarce a fortnight to live? O old
woman, what art thou? must thou find no time to think of
thy end?
AGA. O unkind villain!
GNOTH. And then, sweetheart, thou shalt have two new
gowns; and the best of this old[227] woman’s shall make
thee raiments for the working days.
AGA. O rascal! dost thou quarter my clothes already too?
GNOTH. Her ruffs will serve thee for nothing but to wash
dishes; for thou shalt have thine[228] of the new
fashion.
AGA. Impudent villain! shameless harlot!
GNOTH. You may hear, she never wore any but rails all
her lifetime.
AGA. Let me come, I’ll tear the strumpet from him.
GNOTH. Darest thou call my wife strumpet, thou
preterpluperfect tense of a woman! I’ll make thee do
penance in the sheet thou shalt be buried in; abuse my
choice, my two to one!
AGA. No, unkind villain! I’ll deceive thee yet;
I have a reprieve for five years of life;
I am with child.
COURT. Cud so, Gnotho,[229] I’ll not tarry so long; five
years! I may bury two husbands by that time.
GNOTH. Alas! give the poor woman leave to talk: she with
child! ay, with a puppy: as long as I have thee by me,
she shall not be with child, I warrant thee.
AGA. The law, and thou, and all, shall find I am with
child.
GNOTH. I’ll take my corporal oath I begat it not, and
then thou diest for adultery.
AGA. No matter, that will ask some time in the proof.
GNOTH. O, you’d be stoned to death, would you? all old
women would die a’ that fashion with all their hearts;
but the law shall overthrow you the tother way, first.
COURT. Indeed, if it be so, I will not linger so long,
Gnotho.[230]
GNOTH. Away, away! some botcher has got it; ’tis but a
cushion, I warrant thee: the old woman is _loath to
depart_[231]; she never sung other tune in her life.
COURT. We will not have our noses bored with a cushion,
if it be so.
GNOTH. Go, go thy ways, thou old almanac at the twenty-
eighth day of December, e’en almost out of date! Down on
thy knees, and make thee ready; sell some of thy clothes
to buy thee a death’s head, and put upon thy middle
finger: your least-considering bawd does[232] so much;
be not thou worse, though thou art an old woman, as she
is: I am cloyed with old stock-fish; here’s a young
perch is sweeter meat by half: prithee, die before thy
day, if thou canst, that thou mayst not be counted a
witch.
AGA. No, thou art a witch, and I’ll prove it: I said I
was with child, thou knewest no other but by sorcery:
thou saidst it was a cushion, and so it is; thou art a
witch for’t, I’ll be sworn to’t.
GNOTH. Ha, ha, ha! I told thee ’twas a cushion. Go, get
thy sheet ready; we’ll see thee buried as we go to
church to be married.
[_Exeunt_ GNOTHO _and_ COURTEZAN.
AGA. Nay, I’ll follow thee, and shew myself a wife. I’ll
plague thee as long as I live with thee; and I’ll bury
some money before I die,[233] that my ghost may haunt
thee afterward. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Country. A Forest._

_Enter_ CLEANTHES.

CLEAN. What’s that? O, nothing but the whispering wind
Breathes through yon churlish hawthorn, that grew rude,
As if it chid the gentle breath that kiss’d it.
I cannot be too circumspect, too careful;
For in these woods lies hid all my life’s treasure,
Which is too much [n]ever to fear to lose,
Though[234] it be never lost: and if our watchfulness
Ought to be wise and serious ’gainst[235] a thief
That comes to steal our goods, things all without us,
That prove[236] vexation often more than comfort;
How mighty ought our providence to be,
To prevent those, if any such there were,
That come to rob our bosom of our joys,
That only make[237] poor man delight to live!
Pshaw! I’m too fearful—fie, fie! who can hurt me?
But ’tis a general cowardice, that shakes
The nerves of confidence: he that hides treasure,
Imagines every one thinks of that place,
When ’tis a thing least minded; nay, let him change
The place continually; where’er it keeps,
There will the fear keep still: yonder’s the store-house
Of all my comfort now—and see! it sends forth

_Enter_ HIPPOLITA _from the Wood._

A dear one to me:—Precious chief of women,
How does the good old soul? has he fed well?
HIP. Beshrew me, sir, he made the heartiest meal to-
day—
Much good may’t do his health.
CLEAN. A blessing on thee,
Both for thy news and wish!
HIP. His stomach, sir,
Is better’d wondrously since his concealment.
CLEAN. Heaven has a blessed work in’t. Come, we’re
safe here;
I prithee, call him forth; the air’s much wholesomer.
HIP. Father!

_Enter_ LEONIDES.

LEON. How[238] sweetly sounds the voice of a good
woman!
It is so seldom heard, that, when it speaks,
It ravishes all senses. Lists of honour!
I’ve a joy weeps to see you, ’tis so full,
So fairly fruitful.
CLEAN. I hope to see you often and return
Loaden with blessings, still to pour on some;
I find ’em all in my contented peace,
And lose not one in thousands; they’re disperst
So gloriously, I know not which are brightest.
I find ’em, as angels are found, by legions:
First, in the love and honesty of a wife,
Which is the chiefest[239] of all temporal blessings;
Next, in yourself, which is the hope and joy
Of all my actions, my affairs, my wishes;
And lastly, which crowns all, I find my soul
Crown’d with the peace of ’em, th’ eternal riches,
Man’s only portion for his heavenly marriage!
LEON. Rise; thou art all obedience, love, and
goodness.
I dare say that which thousand fathers cannot,
And that’s my precious comfort; never son
Was in the way more of celestial rising:
Thou art so made of such ascending virtue,
That all the powers of hell can’t[240] sink thee.
[_A horn sounded within._
CLEAN. Ha!
LEON. What was’t disturb’d my joy?
CLEAN. Did you not hear,
As afar off?
LEON. What, my excellent comfort?[241]
CLEAN. Nor you?
HIP. I heard a —— [_A horn._
CLEAN. Hark, again!
LEON. Bless my joy,
What ails it on a sudden?
CLEAN. Now? since lately?
LEON. ’Tis nothing but a symptom of thy care, man.
CLEAN. Alas, you do not hear well!
LEON. What was’t, daughter?
HIP. I heard a sound twice. [_A horn._
CLEAN. Hark! louder and nearer:
In, for the precious good of virtue, quick, sir!
Louder and nearer yet! at hand, at hand!
[_Exit_ LEONIDES.
A hunting here! ’tis strange: I never knew
Game follow’d in these woods before.

_Enter_ EVANDER, SIMONIDES, COURTIERS, _and_ CRATILUS.

HIP. Now let ’em come, and spare not.
CLEAN. Ha! ’tis—is’t not the duke?—look sparingly.
HIP. ’Tis he; but what of that? alas, take heed, sir;
Your care will overthrow us.
CLEAN. Come, it shall not:
Let’s set a pleasant face upon our fears,
Though our hearts shake with horror.—Ha, ha, ha!
EVAN. Hark!
CLEAN. Prithee, proceed;
I’m taken with these light things infinitely,
Since the old man’s decease; ha!—so they parted? ha, ha,
ha!
EVAN. Why, how should I believe this? look, he’s
merry,
As if he had no such charge: one with that care
Could never be so; still he holds his temper,
And ’tis the same still (with no difference)
He brought his father’s corpse to the grave with;
He laugh’d thus then, you know.
FIRST COURT. Ay, he may laugh, my lord,
That shews but how he glories in his cunning;
And [is], perhaps, done more to advance his wit,
That only he has over-reach’d the law,[242]
Than to express affection to his father.
SIM. He tells you right, my lord; his own cousin-
german
Reveal’d it first to me; a free-tongued woman,
And very excellent at telling secrets.
EVAN. If a contempt can be so neatly carried,
It gives me cause of wonder.
SIM. Troth, my lord,
’Twill prove a delicate cozening, I believe:
I’d have no scrivener offer to come near it.
EVAN. Cleanthes.
CLEAN. My lov’d lord.
EVAN. Not mov’d a whit,
Constant to lightness[243] still! ’Tis strange to meet
you
Upon a ground so unfrequented, sir:
This does not fit your passion; you’re for mirth,
Or I mistake you much.
CLEAN. But finding it
Grow to a noted imperfection in me,
For any thing too much is vicious,
I come to these disconsolate walks, of purpose,
Only to dull and take away the edge on’t.
I ever had a greater zeal to sadness,
A natural propension,[244] I confess, my lord,
Before that cheerful accident fell out—
If I may call a father’s funeral cheerful,
Without wrong done to duty or my love.
EVAN. It seems, then, you take pleasure i’these walks,
sir.
CLEAN. Contemplative content I do, my lord:
They bring into my mind oft meditations
So sweetly precious, that, in the parting,
I find a shower of grace upon my cheeks,
They take their leave so feelingly.
EVAN. So, sir!
CLEAN. Which is a kind of grave delight, my lord.
EVAN. And I’ve small cause, Cleanthes, to[245] afford
you
The least delight that has a name.
CLEAN. My lord!
SIM. Now it begins to fadge.
FIRST COURT. Peace! thou art so greedy, Sim.
EVAN. In your excess of joy you have express’d
Your rancour and contempt against my law:
Your smiles deserve [a] fining; you’ve profess’d
Derision openly, e’en to my face,
Which might be death, a little more incensed.
You do not come for any freedom here,
But for a project of your own:—
But all that’s known to be contentful to thee,
Shall in the use prove deadly. Your life’s mine,
If ever thy presumption do but lead thee
Into these walks again,—ay, or that woman;
I’ll have ’em watch’ a’ purpose.

[CLEANTHES _retires from the wood, followed by_
HIPPOLITA.

FIRST COURT. Now, now, his colour ebbs and flows.
SIM. Mark her’s too.
HIP. O, who shall bring food to the poor old man, now!
Speak somewhat, good sir, or we’re lost for ever.
CLEAN. O, you did wondrous ill to call me again!
There are not words to help us; if I entreat,
’Tis found; that will betray us worse than silence:
Prithee, let heaven alone, and let’s say nothing.
FIRST COURT. You’ve struck ’em dumb, my lord.
SIM. Look how guilt looks!
I would not have that fear upon my flesh,
To save ten fathers.
CLEAN. He is safe still, is he not?
HIP. O, you do ill to doubt it.
CLEAN. Thou art all goodness.
SIM. Now does your grace believe?
EVAN. ’Tis too apparent.
Search, make a speedy search; for the imposture
Cannot be far off, by the fear it sends.
CLEAN. Ha!
SIM. Has[246] the lapwing’s cunning, I’m afraid, my
lord,
That cries most[247] when she’s farthest from the nest.
CLEAN. O, we’re betray’d!
HIP. Betray’d, sir!
SIM. See, my lord,
It comes out more and more still.
[SIMONIDES _and_ COURTIERS _enter the wood_.
CLEAN. Bloody thief!
Come from that place; ’tis sacred, homicide!
’Tis not for thy adulterate hands to touch it.
HIP. O miserable virtue, what distress
Art thou in at this minute!
CLEAN. Help me, thunder,
For my power’s lost! angels, shoot plagues, and help me!
Why are these men in health, and I so heart-sick?
Or why should nature have that power in me
To levy up a thousand bleeding sorrows,
And not one comfort? only make[248] me lie
Like the poor mockery of an earthquake here,
Panting with horror,
And have not so much force in all my vengeance,
To shake a villain off me.[249]

_Re-enter_ SIMONIDES _and_ COURTIERS _with_ LEONIDES.

HIP. Use him gently,
And heaven will love you for’t.
CLEAN. Father! O father! now I see thee full
In thy affliction[250]; thou’rt a man of sorrow,
But reverently becom’st it, that’s my comfort:
Extremity was never better grac’d
Than with that look of thine; O, let me look still,
For I shall lose it! all my joy and strength
[_Kneels._
Is e’en eclips’d together. I transgress’d
Your law, my lord, let me receive the sting on’t;
Be once just, sir, and let the offender die:
He’s innocent in all, and I am guilty.
LEON. Your grace knows, when affection only speaks,
Truth is not always there; his love would draw
An undeserved misery on his youth,
And wrong a peace resolv’d, on both parts sinful.
’Tis I am guilty of my own concealment,
And, like a worldly coward, injur’d heaven
With fear to go to’t:—now I see my fault,
I am prepar’d with joy to suffer for’t.
EVAN. Go, give him quick despatch, let him see death:
And your presumption, sir, shall come to judgment.
[_Exeunt_ EVANDER, COURTIERS, SIMONIDES;
_and_ CRATILUS _with_ LEONIDES.
HIP. He’s going! O, he’s gone, sir!
CLEAN. Let me rise.
HIP. Why do you not then, and follow?
CLEAN. I strive for’t:
Is there no hand of pity that will ease me,
And take this villain from my heart awhile? [_Rises._
HIP. Alas! he’s gone.
CLEAN. A worse supplies his place then,
A weight more ponderous; I cannot follow.
HIP. O misery of affliction!
CLEAN. They will stay
Till I can come; they must be so good ever,
Though they be ne’er so cruel:
My last leave must be taken, think a’ that,
And his[251] last blessing given; I will not lose
That for a thousand comforts.[252]
HIP. That hope’s wretched.
CLEAN. The unutterable stings of fortune!
All griefs are to be borne save this alone;
This, like a headlong torrent, overturns
The frame of nature:
For he that gives us life first, as a father,
Locks all his natural sufferings in our blood;
The sorrows that he feels are our heart’s too,[253]
They are incorporate to us.
HIP. Noble sir!
CLEAN. Let me behold thee[254] well.
HIP. Sir!
CLEAN. Thou shouldst be good,
Or thou’rt a dangerous substance to be lodg’d
So near the heart of man.
HIP. What means this, dear sir?
CLEAN. To thy trust only was this blessed secret
Kindly committed; ’tis destroy’d, thou seest;
What follows to be thought on’t?
HIP. Miserable!
Why, here’s th’ unhappiness of woman still,
That, having forfeited in old times her[255] trust,
Now makes their faiths suspected that are just.
CLEAN. What shall I say to all my sorrows then,
That look for satisfaction?

_Enter_ EUGENIA.

EUG. Ha, ha, ha! cousin.
CLEAN. How ill dost thou become this time!
EUG. Ha, ha, ha!
Why, that’s but your opinion; a young wench
Becomes the time at all times.
Now, coz, we’re even: and[256] you be remember’d,
You left a _strumpet_ and a _whore_ at home with me,
And such fine field-bed words, which could not cost you
Less than a father.
CLEAN. Is it come that way?
EUG. Had you an uncle,
He should go the same way too.
CLEAN. O eternity!
What monster is this fiend in labour with?
EUG. An ass-colt with two heads, that’s she and you:
I will not lose so glorious a revenge,
Not to be understood in’t; I betray[’d] him;
And now we’re even, you’d best keep you so.
CLEAN. Is there not poison yet enough to kill me?
HIP. O sir, forgive me! it was I betray’d him.
CLEAN. How!
HIP. I.
CLEAN. The fellow of my heart! ’twill speed me, then.
HIP. Her tears that never wept, and mine own pity
E’en cozen’d me together, and stole from me
This secret, which fierce death should not have
purchas’d.
CLEAN. Nay, then we’re at an end; all we are false
ones,
And ought to suffer. I was false to wisdom,
In trusting woman; thou wert false to faith,
In uttering of the secret; and thou false
To goodness, in deceiving such a pity:
We are all tainted some way, but thou worst,
And for thy infectious spots ought[st] to die first.
[_Offers to kill_ EUGENIA.
EUG. Pray turn your weapon, sir, upon your mistress;
I come not so ill friended.—Rescue, servants!

_Re-enter_ SIMONIDES _and_ COURTIERS.

CLEAN. Are you so whorishly provided?
SIM. Yes, sir,
She has more weapons at command than one.
EUG. Put forward, man; thou art most sure to have me.
SIM. I shall be surer, if I keep behind, though.
EUG. Now, servants, shew your loves.
SIM. I’ll shew my love, too, afar off.
EUG. I love to be so courted; woo me there.
SIM. I love to keep good weapons, though ne’er fought
[with].
I’m sharper set within than I am without.
HIP. O gentlemen! Cleanthes!
EUG. Fight! upon him!
CLEAN.[257] Thy thirst of blood proclaims thee now a
strumpet.
EUG. ’Tis dainty, next to procreation fitting;
I’d either be destroying men or getting.

_Enter_ GUARD.

FIRST OFFICER. Forbear, on your allegiance, gentlemen!
He’s the duke’s prisoner, and we seize upon him
To answer this contempt against the law.
CLEAN. I obey fate in all things.
HIP. Happy rescue!
SIM. I would you’d seized upon him a minute sooner; ’t
had saved me a cut finger: I wonder how I came by’t, for
I never put my hand forth, I’m sure; I think my own
sword did cut it, if truth were known; may be the wire
in the handle: I have lived these five and twenty years,
and never knew what colour my blood was before. I never
durst eat oysters, nor cut peck-loaves.
EUG. You have shewn your spirits, gentlemen; but you
Have cut your finger.
SIM. Ay, the wedding-finger too, a pox on’t!
COURT. You’ll prove a bawdy bachelor, Sim, to have a cut
upon your finger before you are married.
SIM. I’ll never draw sword again, to have such a jest
put upon me. [_Exeunt._