Chapter XVI: Act III: 582 Scene I

_A Room in_ TAILBY’S _Lodging_.

_Enter_ TAILBY _reading a letter_.

TAI. [_reads_] _My husband is rode from home: make no
delay; I know, if your will be as free as your horse,
you will see me yet ere dinner. From Kingston, this
eleventh of November._—Hah! these women are such
creatures, such importunate, sweet souls, they’ll scarce
give a man leave to be ready;[583] that’s their only
fault, i’faith: if they be once set upon a thing, why,
there’s no removing of ’em, till their pretty wills be
fulfilled. O, pity thy poor oppressed client here, sweet
Cupid, that has scarce six hours’ vacation in a month,
his causes hang in so many courts! yet never suffer my
French adversary, nor his big swoln confederates, to
overthrow me,
Who without mercy would my blood carouse,
And lay me in prison in a doctor’s house.
Thy clemency, great Cupid!—Peace, who comes here?

_Enter_ PURSENET.

PUR. Sir gallant, well encountered.
TAI. I both salute and take my leave together.
PUR. Why, whither so fast, sir?
TAI. Excuse me, pray; I’m in a little haste;
My horse waits for me.
PUR. What, some journey toward?[584]
TAI. A light one, i’faith, sir.
PUR. I’m[585] sorry that my business so commands me,
I cannot ride with you; but I make no question
You have company enough.
TAI. Alas, not any!—nor do I desire it.—[_Aside._
Why, ’tis but to Kingston yonder.
PUR. O, cry you mercy, sir.
TAI. ’Scape but one reach, there’s little danger
thither.
PUR. True, a little of Combe Park.[586]
TAI. You’ve nam’d the place, sir; that’s all I fear,
i’faith.
PUR. Farewell, sweet master Tailby. [_Exit_ TAIL.
This fell out happily;
I’ll call this purchase[587] mine before I greet him;
E’en where his fear lies most, there will I meet him.

SCENE II.[588]

_Combe Park._

_Enter_ PURSENET _with a scarf over his face, and Boy_.

PUR. Boy.
BOY. Sir?
PUR. Walk my horse behind yon thicket; give a word if
you descry.
BOY. I have all perfect, sir. [_Exit._
PUR. So; he cannot now be long. What with my boy’s
dexterity at ordinaries, and my gelding’s celerity over
hedge and ditch, but we make pretty shift to rub out a
gallant; for I have learnt these principles:
Stoop thou to th’ world, ’twill on thy bosom tread;
It stoops to thee, if thou advance thy head.
The mind being far more excellent than fate,
’Tis fit our mind then be above our state.
Why should I write my extremities in my brow,
To make them loathe me that respect me now?
If every man were in his courses known,
Legs that now honour him might spurn him down.
To conclude, nothing seems as it is but honesty, and
that makes it so little regarded amongst us.
BOY [_within_]. Ela, ha, ho!
PUR. The boy?
He’s hard at hand; I’ll cross him suddenly:
And here he comes.—

_Enter_ TAILBY.

Stand!
TAI. Ha!
PUR. Deliver your purse, sir.
TAI. I feared none but this place, i’faith; nay, when my
mind gives me a thing once——
PUR. Quick, quick, sir, quick; I must despatch three
robberies yet ere night.
TAI. I’m glad you have such good doings, by my troth,
sir.
PUR. You’ll fare ne’er[589] a whit the better for your
flattery,
I warrant you, sir.

TAI. I speak sincerely; ’tis pity such a proper-parted
gentleman should want; nor shall you, as long as I
have’t about me. [PURSENET _rifles his pockets_.] Nay,
search and spare not: there’s a purse in my left pocket,
as I take it, with fifteen pound in gold in’t, and
there’s a fair chain of pearl in the other: nay, I’ll
deal truly with you; it grieves me, i’faith, when I see
such goodly men in distress; I’ll rather want it myself
than they should go without it.
PUR. And that shews a good nature, sir.
TAI. Nay, though I say it, I have been always accounted
a man of a good nature; I might have hanged myself ere
this time else. Pray, use me like a gentleman; take all,
but injury[590] not my body.
PUR. You must pardon me, sir;
I must a little play the usurer,
And bind you, for mine own security.
TAI. Alas, there’s no conscience in that, sir! shall I
enter into bond and pay money too?
PUR. Tut, I must not be betrayed.
TAI. Hear me but what I say, sir; I do protest I would
not be he that should betray a man, to be prince of the
world.
PUR. Mass, that’s the devil,—I thank you heartily,—
For he’s call’d prince a’ th’ world.
TAI. You take me still at worst.
PUR. Swear on this sword, then,
To set spurs to your horse, not to look back,
To give no marks to any passenger.
TAI. Marks?[591] why, I think you have left me ne’er a
penny, sir.

PUR. I mean, no marks of any.[592]
TAI. I understand you, sir.
PUR. Swear then.
TAI. I’faith, I do, sir.
PUR. Away!
TAI. I’m gone, sir.—By my troth, of a fierce thief he
seems to be a very honest gentleman.
[_Exit._
PUR. Why, this was well adventur’d, trim a gallant!
Now, with a covetous[593] and long-thirsting eye,
Let me behold my purchase,[594]
And try the soundness of my bones with laughter.
How? is not this the chain of pearl I gave
To that perjurèd harlot? ’tis, ’sfoot, ’tis,
The very chain!—O damnèd mistress!—Ha!
And this the purse which, not five days before,
I sent her fill’d with fair spur-royals?[595] Heart,
The very gold! ’Slife, is this no robbery?
How many oaths flew toward heaven,
Which ne’er came half-way thither, but, like
fire-drakes,[596]
Mounted a little, gave a crack, and fell:
Feign’d oaths bound up to sink more deep to hell.
What folded paper’s this? death, ’tis her hand!

[_reads_] _Master Tailby, you know with what affection I
love you._ You do? _I count the world but as my prey to
maintain you._ The more dissembling quean you, I must
tell you. _I have sent you an embroidered purse here
with fifty fair spur-royals in’t._ A pox on you for your
labour, wench! _And I desire you of all loves to keep
that chain of pearl from master Pursenet’s sight._ He
cannot, strumpet; I behold it now, unto thy[597] secret
torture. _So fare thee well, but be constant and want
nothing_—as long as I ha’t, i’faith! methinks it should
have gone so. Well, what a horrible age do we live in,
that a man cannot have a quean to himself! let him but
turn his back, the best of her is chipt away like a
court loaf, that when a man comes himself, has nothing
but bumbast; and these are two simple chippings here.
Does my boy pick and I steal to enrich myself, to keep
her, to maintain him? why, this is right the sequence of
the world. A lord maintains her, she maintains a knight,
he maintains a whore, she maintains a captain. So in
like manner the pocket keeps my boy, he keeps me, I keep
her, she keeps him; it runs like quicksilver from one to
another. ’Sfoot, I perceive I have been the chief
upholder of this gallant all this while: it appears
true, we that pay dearest for our pasture[598] are ever
likely worse used. ’Sfoot, he has a nag can run for
nothing, has his choice, nay, and gets by the running of
her.[599] O fine world, strange devils, and pretty
damnable affections!

BOY [_within_]. Lela, ha, ho!
PUR. There, boy, again; what news there?

_Re-enter Boy._

BOY. Master, hist,[600] master!
PUR. How now, boy?
BOY. I have descried a prize.
PUR. Another, lad?
BOY. The gull, the scholar.
PUR. Master Bouser?
BOY. Ay; comes along this way.
PUR. Without company?
BOY. As sure as he is your own.
PUR. Back to thy place, boy. [_Exit Boy._
I have the luck to-day to rob in safety;
Two precious cowards! Whist; I hear him.—
_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.
Stand!
FIT. You lie; I came forth to go.
PUR. Deliver your purse.
FIT. ’Tis better in my pocket.
PUR. How now? at disputations, signior fool?
FIT. I’ve so much logic to confute a knave,
A thief, a rogue!
[_Attacks and strikes_ PURSENET _down_.
PUR. Hold, hold, sir, and[601] you be a gentleman, hold!
let me rise.
FIT. Heart!
’Tis the courtesy of his scarf unmask’d him to me
Above the lip by chance: I’ll counterfeit. [_Aside._

Light! because I am a scholar, you think belike that
scholars have no metal in ’em, but you shall find,—I
have not done with you, cousin.
PUR. As you’re a gentleman!
FIT. As you’re a rogue!
PUR. Keep on upon your way, sir.
FIT. You bade me stand——
PUR. I have been once down for that.
FIT. And then deliver.
PUR. Deliver me from you, sir!—O, pax[602] on’t, has
wounded me!—Ela, ha, ho! my horse, my horse, boy!
[_Exit._
FIT. Have you your boy so ready? O thou world,
How art thou muffled in deceitful forms!
There’s such a mist of these, and still hath been,
The brightness of true gentry is scarce seen.
This journey was most happily assign’d;
I’ve[603] found him dross both in his means and mind.
What paper’s this he dropt? I’ll look on’t as I go.
[_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Near Combe Park._

_Enter_ PURSENET _and Boy_.

PUR. A gull call you him? let me always set upon wise
men; they’ll be afraid of their lives; they have a
feeling of their iniquities, and know[604] what ’tis to
die with fighting: ’sfoot, this gull lays on without
fear or wit. How deep’s it, sayst thou, boy?
BOY. By my faith, three inches, sir.
PUR. La, this was long of you, you rogue!
BOY. Of me, sir?
PUR. Forgive me, dear boy; my wound ached, and I grew
angry: there’s hope of life, boy, is there not?
BOY. Pooh, my life for yours!
PUR. A comfortable boy in man’s extremes! I was ne’er
so afraid in my life but the fool would have seen my
face: he had me at such advantage, he might have
commanded my scarf. I ’scaped well there; ’t’ad choked
me; my reputation had been past recovery: yet live I
unsuspected, and still fit for gallants’ choice
societies. But here I vow, if e’er I see this Bouser
when he cannot see me, either in by-lane, privilege[d]
place, court, alley, or come behind him when he’s
standing,[605]
Or take him when he reels from a tavern late,
Pissing again[606] a conduit, wall, or gate;
When he’s in such a plight, and clear from me[n],
I’ll do that I’m[607] asham’d to speak till then.
[_Exit._

SCENE IV.

_A Street._

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE[608] _and Gentleman_.

FIT. Nay, read forward: I have found three of
your gallants, like your bewitching shame,[609]
merely sophistical: there’s your bawd-gallant,
your pocket-gallant, and your whore-gallant.
GEN. [_reads_] _Master Tailby._
FIT. That’s he.
GEN. [_reads_] _I count the world but as my prey to
maintain you._
FIT. That’s just the phrase and style of ’em all to him;
they meet altogether in one effect, and it may well hold
too, for they all jump upon one cause, _subaudi_
lechery.
GEN. What shapes can flattery take! Let me entreat
you,
Both in the virgin’s right and our good hopes,
Since your hours are so fortunate, to proceed.
FIT. Why, he’s base that faints[610] until he crown his
deed.
[_Exit._

SCENE V.

_A Room in_ PRIMERO’S _House_.

_Enter_ PURSENET (_his arm in a scarf_) _and Boy,
meeting First Courtesan_.

PUR. See that dissembling devil, that perjur’d
strumpet! [_Aside._
FIRST C. Welcome, my soul’s best wish. O, out, alas!
Thy arm bound in a scarf? I shall swoon instantly.
PUR. Heart, and I’ll fetch you again in the same tune.
[_Aside._

O my unmatch’d love, if any spark of life remain,
Look up, my comfort, my delight, my——
FIRST C. O good, O good!
PUR. The organ of her voice is tun’d again;
There’s hope in women when their speech returns;
See, like the moon after a black eclipse,
She by degrees recovers her pure light.
How cheers my love?
FIRST C. As one new-wak’d out of a deadly trance,
The fit scarce quiet.
PUR. ’Twas terrible for the time;
I’d much ado to fetch you.
FIRST C. ’Shrew your fingers! [_Aside._
How came my comfort wounded? speak.
PUR. Faith, in a fray last night.
FIRST C. In a fray? will you lose your blood so
vainly?
Many a poor creature lacks it. Tell me how?
What was the quarrel?
PUR. Loath to tell you that.
FIRST C. Loath to tell me?
PUR. Yet ’twas my cause of coming.
FIRST C. Why, then, must not I know it?
PUR. Since you urge it, you shall,
You’re a strumpet!
FIRST C. O, news abroad, sir!
PUR. Say you so?
FIRST C. Why, you knew that the first night you lay
with me.
PUR. Nay, not to me only, but to the world.
FIRST C. Speak within compass, man.
PUR. Faith, you know none, you sail without.
FIRST C. I have the better skill then.
PUR. At my first step into a tavern-room, to spy
That chain of pearl wound on a stranger’s arm
You begg’d of me!
FIRST C. How? you mistook it sure.
PUR. By heaven, the very self-same chain!
FIRST C. O, cry you mercy, ’tis true, I’d forgot it:
’tis St. George’s day to-morrow: I lent it to my cousin
only to grace his arm before his mistress.
PUR. Notable cunning!
FIRST C. And is this all now, i’faith?
PUR. Not; I durst go further.
FIRST C. Why, let me never possess your love if you see
not that again a’ Thursday morning: I take’t unkindly,
i’faith, you should fall out with me for such a trifle.
PUR. Better and better!
FIRST C. Come, a kiss, and friends!
PUR. Away!
FIRST C. By this hand, I’ll spoil your arm and[611] you
will not.

PUR. More for this than the devil——

_Enter_ GOLDSTONE, TAILBY, FITSGRAVE, BUNGLER, _and
Courtesans_.

GOL. Yea, at your book so hard?[612]
PUR. Against my will.—Are you there, signior Logic?
A pox of you, sir! [_Aside._
GOL. Why, how now? what has fate sent us here, in the
name of Venus, goddess of Cyprus?
PUR. A freebooter’s pink, sir, three or four inches
deep.
GOL. No more? that’s conscionable, i’faith.
TAI. Troth, I’m sorry for’t: pray, how came it, sir?
PUR. Faith, by a paltry fray, in Coleman Street.
FIT. Combe Park he would say. [_Aside._
PUR. No less than three at once, sir,
Made a triangle with their swords and daggers,
And all opposing me.
FIT. And amongst those three only one hurt you, sir?
PUR. Ex for ex.[613]
TAI. Troth, and I’ll tell you what luck I had too, since
I parted from you last.
PUR. What, I pray?
TAI. The day you offered to ride with me, I wish now I’d
had your company: ’sfoot, I was set upon in Combe Park
by three too.
PUR. Bah!
TAI. Robbed, by this light, of as much gold and jewels
as I valued at forty pound.
PUR. Sure Saturn is in the fifth house.
TAI. I know not that; he may be in the sixth and[614]
he will for me: I am sure they were in my pocket
wheresoever they are;[615] but I’ll ne’er refuse a
gentleman’s company again when ’tis offered me, I
warrant you.
GOL. I must remember you ’tis Mitre-night,[616] ladies.
SEC. C. Mass, ’tis indeed Friday to-day, I’d quite
forgot: when a woman’s busy, how the time runs away!
FIRST C. O, you’ve betrayed us both!
TAI. I understand you not.
FIRST C. You’ve let him see the chain of pearl I gave
you.
TAI. Who? him? will you believe me, by this hand,
He never saw it.
FIRST C. Upon a stranger’s arm he swore to me.
TAI. Mass, that may be; for the truth is, i’faith,
I was robb’d on’t at Combe Park.
FIRST. C. ’Twas that betrayed it.
TAI. I would [I] had stay’d him;
He was no stranger, he was a thief, i’faith,
For thieves will be no strangers.
FIRST C. How shall I excuse it?
BUN. Nay, I have you fast enough, boy; you rogue!
[_Seizing the Boy, who had attempted to pick his pocket._
BOY. Good sir, I beseech you, sir, let me go!
[_Struggling._[617]
BUN. A pickpocket? nay, you shall to Newgate, look you.—
Is this your boy, sir?
PUR. How now, boy? a monster? thy arm lined[618] fast
in another’s pocket? where learnt you that manners?
what company have you kept a’ late, that you are so
transformed into a rogue? that shape I know not.—
Believe me, sir, I much wonder at the alteration of
this boy, where he should get this nature: as good a
child to see to, and as virtuous; he has his creed by
heart, reads me his chapter duly every night; he will
not miss you one tittle in the nine commandments.
BUN. There’s ten of ’em.
PUR. I fear he skips o’er one, Thou shall not steal.
BUN. Mass, like enough.
PUR. Else grace and memory would quite abash the boy.—
Thou graceless imp! ah, thou prodigious child,
Begot at some eclipse, degenerate rogue,
Shame to thy friends, and to thy master eke!
How far digressing from the noble mind
Of thy brave ancestors, that lie in marble
With their coat-armours o’er ’em!
BUN. Had he such friends?
PUR. The boy is well descended, though he be a rogue,
and has no feeling on’t; yet for my sake, and for my
reputation’s, seek not the blood of the boy; he’s near
allied to many men of worship now yet living; a fine old
man to his father; it would kill his heart, i’faith;
he’d away like a chrisom.[619]
BUN. Alas, good gentleman!
PUR. Ah, shameless villain, complain’st thou? dost
thou want?
BOY. No, no, no, no!
PUR. Art not well clad? thy hunger well resisted?
BOY. Yes, yes, yes, yes!
PUR. But thou shalt straight to Bridewell——
BOY. Sweet master!
PUR. Live upon bread and water and chap-choke.
BOY. I beseech your worship!
BUN. Come, I’ll be his surety for once.
PUR. You shall excuse me indeed, sir.
BUN. He will mend; ’a may prove an honest man for all
this. I know gallant gentlemen now that have done as
much as this comes to in their youth.
PUR. Say you so, sir?
BUN. And as for Bridewell, that will but make him worse;
’a will learn more knavery there in one week than will
furnish him and his heirs for a hundred year.
PUR. Deliver the boy!
BUN. Nay, I tell you true, sir; there’s none goes in
there a quean, but she comes out an arrant whore, I
warrant you.
PUR. The boy comes not there for a million!
BUN. No, you had better forgive him by ten parts.
PUR. True; but ’a must not know it comes from me.—
Down a’ your knees, you rogue,
And thank this gentleman has got your pardon.
BOY. O, I thank your worship!
PUR. A pox on you for a rogue;
You put me to my set speech once a quarter.
[_Aside to him._
GOL. Nay, gentlemen, you quite forget your hour;
Lead, master Bouser.
[_Exeunt all but_ GOLDSTONE _and Second Courtesan_.
SEC. C. Let me go: you’re a dissembler.
GOL. How?
SEC. C. Did not you promise me a new gown?
GOL. Did I not? yes, faith, did I, and thou shalt have
it.—Go, sirrah, [_calling to one off the stage_] run for
a tailor presently. Let me see for the colour now:
orange-tawney, peach colour—what sayst to a watchet[620]
satin?

_Enter Tailor._

SEC. C. O, ’tis the only colour I affect!
TAI. A very orient colour, an’t please your worships. I
made a gown on’t for a gentlewoman t’other day, and it
does passing well upon her.
GOL. A watchet satin gown——
TAI. There your worship left, sir.
GOL. Laid about, tailor——
TAI. Very good, sir.
GOL. With four fair laces.
TAI. That will be costly, sir.
GOL. How, you rogue, costly? out a’ th’ house, you
slipshod, sham-legged, brown-thread-penny-skeined
rascal!
SEC. C. Nay, my sweet love—— [_Exit Tailor._
GOL. Hang him, rogue! he’s but a botcher neither: come,
I’ll send thee a fellow worth a hundred of this, if the
slave were clean enough. [_Exeunt._