Chapter XXII: Act IV: Scene I

_A Chamber in_ PENITENT BROTHEL’S _House_.

_Enter out of his study_ PENITENT BROTHEL,[840] _a book
in his hand_.

PEN. B. Ha? read that place again—_Adultery
Draws the divorce ’twixt heaven and the soul_.
Accursed man, that stand’st divorc’d from heaven!
Thou wretched unthrift, that hast play’d away
Thy eternal portion at a minute’s game;
To please the flesh hast blotted out thy name!
Where were thy nobler meditations busied,
That they durst trust this body with itself;
This natural drunkard, that undoes us all,
And makes our shame apparent in our fall?
Then let my blood pay for’t, and vex and boil!
My soul, I know, would never grieve to th’ death
Th’ eternal spirit, that feeds her with his breath:
Nay, I that knew the price of life and sin,
What crown is kept for continence, what for lust,
The end of man, and glory of that end,
As endless as the giver,
To doat on weakness, slime, corruption, woman!
What is she, took asunder from her clothes?
Being ready,[841] she consists of hundred pieces,
Much like your German clock,[842] and near ally’d;
Both are so nice, they cannot go for pride:
Beside a greater fault, but too well known,
They’ll strike to ten, when they should stop at one.
Within these three days the next meeting’s fix’d;
If I meet then, hell and my soul be mix’d!
My lodging I know constantly, she not knows:
Sin’s hate is the best gift that sin bestows:
I’ll ne’er embrace her more; never, bear witness, never.

_Enter Succubus in the shape of_ MIS. HAREBRAIN,[843]
_and claps him on the shoulder_.

SUC. What, at a stand? the fitter for my company.
PEN. B. Celestial soldiers guard me!
SUC. How now, man?
’Las, did the quickness of my presence fright thee?
PEN. B. Shield me,[844] you ministers of faith and
grace!
SUC. Leave, leave; are you not ashamed to use such words
to a woman?
PEN. B. Thou’rt a devil!
SUC. A devil? feel, feel, man; has a devil flesh and
bone?
PEN. B. I do conjure thee, by that dreadful power——
SUC. The man has a delight to make me tremble—
Are these the fruits of thy adventurous love?
Was I tic’d[845] for this, to be so soon rejected?
Come, what has chang’d thee so, delight?
PEN. B. Away!
SUC. Remember——
PEN. B. Leave my sight!
SUC. Have I this meeting wrought with cunning,
Which, when I come, I find thee shunning?
Rouse thy amorous thoughts, and twine me;
All my interest I resign thee:
Shall we let slip this mutual hour,
Comes so seldom in her[846] power?
Where’s thy lip, thy clip, thy fadom?[847]
Had women such loves, would’t not mad ’em?
Art a man? or dost abuse one?
A love, and know’st not how to use one!
Come, I’ll teach thee.
PEN. B. Do not follow——
SUC. Once so firm, and now so hollow!
When was place and season sweeter?
Thy bliss in sight, and dar’st not meet her?
Where’s thy courage, youth, and vigour?
Love’s best pleas’d when’t’s seiz’d[848] with rigour:
Seize me, then, with veins most cheerful;
Women love no flesh that’s fearful:
’Tis but a fit; come, drink’t away,
And dance and sing, and kiss and play!
Fa le la, le la, fa le la, le la la;
Fa le la, fa la le, la le la!
[_Singing and dancing round him._
PEN. B. Torment me not!
SUC. Fa le la, fa le la, fa la la lo!
PEN. B. Fury!
SUC. Fa le la, fa le la, fa la la lo!
PEN. B. Devil, I do conjure thee once again,
By that soul-quaking thunder, to depart,
And leave this chamber freed from thy damn’d art!
[_Succubus stamps, and exit._
It has prevail’d—O my sin-shaking sinews!
What should I think?—Jasper, why, Jasper!

_Enter_ JASPER.

JAS. Sir? how now? what has disturb’d you, sir?
PEN. B. A fit, a qualm. Is mistress Harebrain[849]
gone?
JAS. Who, sir? mistress Harebrain?
PEN. B. Is she gone, I say?
JAS. Gone? why, she was never here yet.
PEN. B. No?
JAS. Why, no, sir.
PEN. B. Art sure on’t?
JAS. Sure on’t?
If I be sure I breathe, and am myself.
PEN. B. I like it not. [_Aside._]—Where kept’st thou?
JAS. I’ th’ next room, sir.
PEN. B. Why, she struck by thee, man.
JAS. You’d make one mad, sir; that a gentlewoman should
steal by me, and I not hear her! ’s foot, one may hear
the ruffling of their bums[850] almost an hour before we
see ’em.
PEN. B. I will be satisfied, although to hazard.
What though her husband meet me? I am honest:
When men’s intents are wicked, their guilt haunts ’em;
But when they’re just, they’re arm’d, and nothing daunts
’em. [_Aside, and exit._
JAS. What strange humour call you this? he dreams of
women, and both his eyes broad open! [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A Room in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _House_.

_Enter at one door_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, _at another_
GUMWATER.

SIR B. Why, how now, master Gumwater? what’s the news
with your haste?
GUM. I have a thing to tell your worship——
SIR B. Why, prithee, tell me; speak, man.
GUM. Your worship shall pardon me, I have better
bringing-up than so.
SIR B. How, sir?
GUM. ’Tis a thing made fit for your ear, sir——
SIR B. O, O, O, cry you mercy; now I begin to taste you.
Is she come?
GUM. She’s come, sir.
SIR B. Recovered? well and sound again?
GUM. That’s to be feared, sir.
SIR B. Why, sir?
GUM. She wears a linen cloth about her jaw.[851]
SIR B. Ha, ha, haw! why, that’s the fashion,
You whoreson Gumwater.
GUM. The fashion, sir?
Live I so long time to see that a fashion,
Which rather was an emblem of dispraise?
It was suspected much in Monsieur’s days.[852]
SIR B. Ay, ay, in those days; that was a queasy[853]
time: our age is better hardened now, and put oftener in
the fire; we are tried what we are. Tut, the pox is as
natural now as an ague in the spring-time; we seldom
take physic without it. Here, take this key; you
know[854] what duties belong to’t. Go, give order for a
cullis:[855] let there be a good fire made i’ th’ matted
chamber: do you hear, sir?
GUM. I know my office, sir. [_Exit._
SIR B. An old man’s venery is very chargeable, my
masters; there’s much cookery belongs to’t. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Another Chamber in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _House_.

_Enter_ GUMWATER, _with_ FOLLYWIT _disguised as the
Courtesan and masked_.

GUM. Come, lady: you know where you are now?
FOL. Yes, good master Gumwater.
GUM. This is the old closet, you know.
FOL. I remember it well, sir.
GUM. There stands a casket: I would my yearly revenue
were but worth the wealth that’s locked in’t, lady! yet
I have fifty pound a-year, wench.
FOL. Beside your apparel, sir?
GUM. Yes, faith, have I.
FOL. But then you reckon your chain,[856] sir.
GUM. No, by my troth, do I not, neither: faith, and[857]
you consider me rightly, sweet lady, you might admit a
choice gentleman into your service.
FOL. O, pray away, sir!
GUM. Pusha,[858] come, come; you do but hinder your
fortunes, i’faith: I have the command of all the house,
I can tell you; nothing comes into th’ kitchen, but
comes through my hands.
FOL. Pray do not handle me, sir.
GUM. Faith you’re too nice, lady; and as for my secrecy,
you know I have vowed it often to you.
FOL. Vowed it? no, no, you men are fickle.
GUM. Fickle? ’sfoot! bind me, lady——
FOL. Why, I bind you by virtue of this chain to meet me
to-morrow at the Flower-de-luce yonder, between nine and
ten.
GUM. And if I do not, lady, let me lose it, thy love,
and my best fortunes!
FOL. Why, now I’ll try you; go to.
GUM. Farewell, sweet lady!
[_Kisses_ FOLLYWIT, _and exit_.
FOL. Welcome, sweet coxcomb! by my faith, a good
induction! I perceive by his overworn phrase, and his
action toward the middle region still, there has been
some saucy nibbling motion; and no doubt the cunning
quean waited but for her prey: and I think ’tis better
bestowed upon me, for his soul’s health, and his body’s
too. I’ll teach the slave to be so bold yet, as once to
offer to vault into his master’s saddle, i’faith. Now,
casket, by your leave:
I’ve[859] seen your outside oft, but that’s no proof;
Some have fair outsides that are nothing worth.
[_Rifles the casket._
Ha! now, by my faith, a gentlewoman of very good parts;
diamond, ruby, sapphire; _Onyx cum prole silexque_![860]
if I do not wonder how the quean ’scaped tempting, I’m
an hermaphrodite! sure she could lack nothing, but the
devil to point to’t; and I wonder that he should be
missing: well, ’tis better as it is. This is the fruit
of old grunting venery; grandsire, you may thank your
drab for this. O fie, in your crinkling days, grandsire,
keep a courtesan, to hinder your grandchild! ’tis
against nature, i’faith, and I hope you’ll be weary
on’t.
Now to my villains that lurk close below:
Who keeps a harlot, tell him this from me,
He needs nor thief, disease, nor enemy. [_Exit._

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS.

SIR B. Ah, sirrah, methink I feel myself well toasted,
bombasted, rubbed, and refreshed! but, i’faith, I cannot
forget to think how soon sickness has altered her to my
taste. I gave her a kiss at bottom o’ th’ stairs, and,
by th’ mass, methought her breath had much ado to be
sweet; like a thing compounded, methought, of wine,
beer, and tobacco; I smelt much pudding[861] in’t.
It may be but my fancy, or her physic:
For this I know, her health gave such content,
The fault rests in her sickness, or my scent.—
How dost thou now, sweet girl? what, well recover’d?
Sickness quite gone, ha? speak—ha? wench? Frank
Gullman!—

Why, body of me, what’s here? my casket wide open, broke
open, my jewels stolen!—Why, Gumwater!

_Re-enter_ GUMWATER.

GUM. Anon, anon, sir.
SIR B. Come hither, Gumwater.
GUM. That were small manners, sir, i’faith: I’ll find a
time anon; your worship’s busy yet.
SIR B. Why, Gumwater!
GUM. Foh, nay then you’ll make me blush, i’faith, sir——
SIR B. Where’s this creature?
GUM. What creature is’t you’d have, sir?
SIR B. The worst that ever breathes.
GUM. That’s a wild boar, sir.
SIR B. That’s a vild[862] whore, sir;—where didst thou
leave her, rascal?
GUM. Who? your recreation, sir?
SIR B. My execration, sir!
GUM. Where I was wont; in your worship’s closet.
SIR B. A pox engross her! it appears too true. See you
this casket, sir?
GUM. My chain, my chain, my chain! my one and only
chain! [_Exit._
SIR B. Thou runnest to much purpose now, Gumwater, yea!
Is not a quean enough to answer for, but she must join a
thief to’t? a thieving quean! nay, I have done with her,
i’faith. ’Tis a sign sh’as been sick a’ late; for she’s
a great deal worse than she was: by my troth, I would
have pawned my life upon’t.
Did she want any thing? was she not supplied?
Nay, and liberally; for that’s an old man’s sin:
We’ll feast our lechery, though we starve our kin.
Is not my name sir Bounteous? am I not express’d there?
Ah, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie! but I perceive,
Though she have never so complete a friend,
A strumpet’s love will have a waft[863] i’ th’ end,
And distaste the vessel. I can hardly bear this;
But say, I should complain; perhaps she has pawn’d ’em—
’S foot, the judges will but laugh at it, and bid her
borrow more money of ’em; make the old fellow pay for’s
lechery; that’s all the mends I get. I have seen the
same case tried at Newbury the last ’sizes.
Well, things must slip and sleep; I will dissemble it,
Because my credit shall not lose her lustre:
But whilst I live, I’ll neither love nor trust her.
I ha’ done, I ha’ done, I ha’ done with her, i’faith!
[_Exit._

SCENE IV.

_A Hall in_ HAREBRAIN’S _House_.

_Knocking within;[864] enter a Servant._

SER. Who’s that knocks?
PEN. B. [_within_] A friend.
[_Servant opens the door._

_Enter_ PENITENT BROTHEL.

SER. What’s your will, sir?
PEN. B. Is master Harebrain[865] at home?
SER. No, newly gone from it, sir.
PEN. B. Where’s the gentlewoman his wife?
SER. My mistress is within, sir.
PEN. B. When came she in, I pray?
SER. Who, my mistress? she was not out these two days,
to my knowledge.
PEN. B. No? trust me, I’d thought I’d seen her. I would
request a word with her.
SER. I’ll tell her, sir.
PEN. B. I thank you. [_Exit Servant._] It likes me[866]
worse and worse.

_Enter_ MISTRESS HAREBRAIN.

MIS. H. Why, how now, sir? ’twas desperately
adventur’d;
I little look’d for you until the morrow.
PEN. B. No?
Why what made you at my chamber then even now?
MIS. H. I at your chamber?
PEN. B. Pooh, dissemble not;
Come, come, you were there.
MIS. H. By my life, you wrong me, sir!
PEN. B. What?
MIS. H. First, you’re not ignorant what watch keeps
o’er me;
And for your chamber, as I live, I know’t not.
PEN. B. Burst into sorrow then, and grief’s extremes,
Whilst I beat on this flesh!
MIS. H. What is’t disturbs you, sir?
PEN. B. Then was the devil in your likeness there.
MIS. H. Ha!
PEN. B. The very devil assum’d thee formally;[867]
That face, that voice, that gesture, that attire,
E’en as it sits on thee, not a plait alter’d;
That beaver band, the colour of that periwig,[868]
The farthingale above the navel; all
As if the fashion were his own invention.
MIS. H. Mercy, defend me!
PEN. B. To beguile me more,
The cunning Succubus told me that meeting
Was wrought ’a purpose by much wit and art;
Wept to me; laid my vows before me; urg’d me;
Gave me the private marks of all our love;
Woo’d me in wanton and effeminate rhymes,
And sung and danc’d about me like a fairy:
And had not worthier cogitations blest me,
Thy form, and his enchantments, had possess’d me.
MIS. H. What shall become of me? my own thoughts doom
me.
PEN. B. Be honest, then the devil will ne’er assume
thee:
He has no pleasure in that shape t’ abide
Where these two sisters reign not, lust or pride;
He as much trembles at a constant mind
As looser flesh at him: be not dismay’d;
Spring, souls, for joy! his policies are betray’d!
Forgive me, mistress Harebrain, on whose soul
The guilt hangs double,
My lust, and thy enticement! both I challenge;
And therefore of due vengeance it appear’d
To none but me, to whom both sins inher’d.
What knows the lecher, when he clips[869] his whore,
Whether it be the devil his parts adore?
They’re both so like, that, in our natural sense,
I could discern no change nor difference.
No marvel, then, times should so stretch and turn;
None for religion, all for pleasure burn.
Hot zeal into hot lust is now transform’d;
Grace into painting, charity into clothes;
Faith into false hair, and put off as often.
There’s nothing but our virtue knows a mean:
He that kept open house, now keeps a quean.
He will keep open still, that he commends;
And there he keeps a table for his friends:
And she consumes more than his[870] sire could hoard,
Being more common than his house or board.

_Enter_ HAREBRAIN _behind_.

Live honest, and live happy, keep thy vows;
She’s part a virgin whom but one man knows:
Embrace thy husband, and beside him none;
Having but one heart, give it but to one.
MIS. H. I vow it on my knees, with tears true-bred,
No man shall ever wrong my husband’s bed!
PEN. B. Rise; I’m thy friend for ever.
HAR. [_coming forward_] And I thine
For ever and ever!—Let me embrace thee, sir,
Whom I will love even next unto my soul,
And that’s my wife.
Two dear rare gems this hour presents me with,
A wife that’s modest, and a friend that’s right:
Idle suspect and fear, now take your flight!
PEN. B. A happy inward peace crown both your joys!
HAR. Thanks above utterance to you!—

_Enter Servant._

Now, the news?
SER. Sir Bounteous Progress, sir,
Invites you and my mistress to a feast
On Tuesday next; his man attends without.
HAR. Return both with our willingness and thanks.—
[_Exit Servant._
I will entreat you, sir, to be my guest.
PEN. B. Who, I, sir?
HAR. Faith, you shall.
PEN. B. Well, I’ll break strife.
HAR. A friend’s so rare, I’ll sooner part from life.
[_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT, _and the Courtesan striving from him_.

FOL. What, so coy, so strict? come, come!
COUR. Pray, change your opinion, sir; I am not for
that use.
FOL. Will you but hear me?
COUR. I shall hear that I would not. [_Exit._
FOL. ’S foot, this is strange! I’ve seldom seen a
wench
Stand upon stricter points: life, she will not
Endure to be courted! does she e’er think to prosper?
I’ll ne’er believe that tree can bring forth fruit
That never bears a blossom; courtship’s a blossom,
And often brings forth fruit in forty weeks.
’Twere a mad part in me now to turn over:
If e’er[871] there were any hope on’t, ’tis at this
instant.
Shall I be madder now than e’er I’ve[872] been?
I’m in the way, i’faith.
Man’s never at high height of madness full
Until he love, and prove a woman’s gull.
I do protest in earnest, I ne’er knew
At which end to begin t’ affect a woman
Till this bewitching minute; I ne’er saw
Face worth my object till mine eye met hers;
I should laugh and[873] I were caught, i’faith: I’ll see
her again, that’s certain, whate’er comes on’t, by
your favour, ladies.[874]

_Enter Mother._

MOT. You’re welcome, sir.
FOL. Know you the young gentlewoman that went in lately?
MOT. I have best cause to know her; I’m her mother,
sir.
FOL. O, in good time. I like the gentlewoman well; a
pretty contrived beauty.
MOT. Ay, nature has done her part, sir.
FOL. But she has one uncomely quality.
MOT. What’s that, sir?
FOL. ’S foot, she’s afraid of a man.
MOT. Alas! impute that to her bashful spirit,
She’s fearful of her honour.
FOL. Of her honour? ’slid, I’m sure I cannot get
Her maidenhead with breathing upon her,
Nor can she lose her honour in her tongue.
MOT. True; and I have often told her so; but what would
you have of a foolish virgin, sir, a wilful virgin? I
tell you, sir, I need not have been in that solitary
estate that I am, had she had grace and boldness to have
put herself forward; always timorsome, always backward!
Ah, that same peevish[875] honour of hers has undone her
and me both, good gentleman! the suitors, the jewels,
the jointures, that have[876] been offered her! we had
been made women[877] for ever: but what was her fashion?
she could not endure the sight of a man, forsooth, but
run and hole[878] herself presently. So choice of her
honour, I am persuaded, whene’er she has husband,
She’ll[879] e’en be a precedent for all married wives
How to direct their actions and their lives.
FOL. Have you not so much power with her to command her
presence?
MOT. You shall see straight what I can do, sir.
[_Exit._
FOL. Would I might be hanged, if my love do not stretch
to her deeper and deeper! Those bashful maiden humours
take me prisoner. When there comes a restraint upon[880]
flesh, we are always most greedy upon’t; and that makes
your merchant’s wife oftentimes pay so dear for a
mouthful. Give me a woman as she was made at first;
simple of herself, without sophistication, like this
wench: I cannot abide them when they have tricks, set
speeches, and artful entertainments.
You shall have some so impudently aspècted,
They will outcry the forehead of a man,
Make him blush first, and talk him into silence;
And this is counted manly in a woman:
It may hold so; sure, womanly it is not.
No;
If e’er I love, or any thing move me,
’Twill be a woman’s simple modesty.

_Re-enter Mother, bringing in strivingly the Courtesan._

COUR. Pray, let me go; why, mother, what do you mean?
I beseech you, mother! is this your conquest now?
Great glory ’tis to overcome a poor
And silly virgin.
FOL. The wonder of our time sits in that brow:
I ne’er beheld a perfect maid[881] till now.
MOT. Thou childish thing, more bashful than thou’rt
wise,
Why dost thou turn aside, and drown thine eyes?
Look, fearful fool, there’s no temptation near thee;
Art not asham’d that any flesh should fear thee?[882]
Why, I durst pawn my life the gentleman
Means no other but honest and pure love to thee.—
How say you, sir?
FOL. By my faith, not I, lady.
MOT. Hark you there? what think
You now, forsooth? what grieves your honour now?
Or what lascivious breath intends to rear
Against that maiden organ, your chaste ear?
Are you resolv’d[883] now better of men’s hearts,
Their faiths, and their affections? With you none,
Or at most few, whose tongues and minds are one.
Repent you now of your opinion past;
Men love as purely as you can be chaste.—
To her yourself, sir; the way’s broke before you;
You have the easier passage.
FOL. Fear not. Come,
Erect thy happy graces in thy look;
I am no curious wooer,[884] but, in faith,
I love thee honourably.
COUR. How mean you that, sir?
FOL. ’S foot, as one loves a woman for a wife.
MOT. Has the gentleman answered you, trow?[885]
FOL. I do confess it truly to you both,
My estate is yet but sickly; but I’ve a grandsire
Will make me lord of thousands at his death.
MOT. I know your grandsire well; she knows him better.
FOL. Why, then, you know no fiction: my state then
Will be a long day’s journey ’bove the waste, wench.
MOT. Nay, daughter, he says true.
FOL. And thou shalt often measure it in thy coach,
And with the wheels’ track make a girdle for’t.
MOT. Ah, ’twill be a merry journey!
FOL. What, is’t a match? if’t be, clap hands and lips.
[_Kisses Courtesan._
MOT. ’Tis done; there’s witness on’t.
FOL. Why, then, mother, I salute you.
[_Kisses Mother._
MOT. Thanks, sweet son.
Son Follywit, come hither; if I might counsel thee,
We’ll take her e’en[886] while the good mood’s upon her;
Send for a priest, and clap’t up within this hour.
FOL. By my troth, agreed, mother.
MOT. Nor does her wealth consist all in her flesh,
Though beauty be enough wealth for a woman;
She brings a dowry of three hundred[887] with her.
FOL. ’S foot, that will serve [un]til my grandsire
dies:
I warrant you he’ll drop away at fall a’ th’ leaf;
If e’er[888] he reach to All Hollantide,[889] I’ll be
hang’d.
MOT. O yes, son, he’s a lusty old gentleman.
FOL. Ah, pox, he’s given to women! he keeps a quean at
this present.
MOT. Fie!
FOL. Do not tell my wife on’t.
MOT. That were needless, i’faith.
FOL. He makes a great feast upon the eleventh of this
month, Tuesday next, and you shall see players there—I
have one trick more to put upon him. [_Aside._]—My wife
and yourself shall go thither before as my guests, and
prove his entertainment: I’ll meet you there at night.
The jest will be here; that feast which he makes will,
unknown to him, serve fitly for our wedding-dinner: we
shall be royally furnished, and get some charges by’t.
MOT. An excellent course, i’faith, and a thrifty! why,
son,
Methinks you begin to thrive before you’re married.
FOL. We shall thrive one day, wench, and clip[890]
enough:
Between our hopes there’s but a grandsire’s puff.
[_Exit._
MOT. So, girl, here was a bird well caught.
COUR. If ever, here:
But what for’s grandsire, ’twill scarce please him well.
MOT. Who covets fruit, ne’er cares from whence it
fell:
Thou’st wedded youth and strength; and wealth will fall:
Last, thou’rt made honest.
COUR. And that’s worth ’em all. [_Exeunt._