Chapter XXVI: Act II: Scene I

_Three shops open in a rank: the first an apothecary’s
shop, the next a feather-shop, the third a
sempster’s shop_; MISTRESS GALLIPOT _in the first_,
MISTRESS TILTYARD _in the next_, OPENWORK _and_
MISTRESS OPENWORK _in the third_.

_Enter_ LAXTON, GOSHAWK, _and_ GREENWIT.

MIS. OPEN. Gentlemen, what is’t you lack?[967] what
is’t you buy? see fine bands and ruffs, fine lawns, fine
cambrics: what is’t you lack, gentlemen? what is’t you
buy?
LAX. Yonder’s the shop.
GOS. Is that she?
LAX. Peace.
GREEN. She that minces tobacco?[968]
LAX. Ay; she’s a gentlewoman born, I can tell you,
though it be her hard fortune now to shred Indian
pot-herbs.
GOS. O sir, ’tis many a good woman’s fortune, when her
husband turns bankrout,[969] to begin with pipes and set
up again.
LAX. And, indeed, the raising of the woman is the
lifting up of the man’s head at all times; if one
flourish, t’other will bud as fast, I warrant ye.
GOS. Come, thou’rt familiarly acquainted there, I grope
that.
LAX. And[970] you grope no better i’ th’ dark, you may
chance lie i’ th’ ditch when you’re drunk.
GOS. Go, thou’rt a mystical lecher!
LAX. I will not deny but my credit may take up an ounce
of pure smoke.
GOS. May take up an ell of pure smock! away, go! ’Tis
the closest striker![971] life, I think he commits
venery forty foot deep; no man’s aware on’t. I, like a
palpable smockster, go to work so openly with the
tricks of art, that I’m as apparently seen as a naked
boy in a phial;[972] and were it not for a gift of
treachery that I have in me, to betray my friend when
he puts most trust in me—mass, yonder he is too!—and
by his injury to make good my access to her, I should
appear as defective in courting as a farmer’s son the
first day of his feather, that doth nothing at court
but woo the hangings and glass windows for a month
together, and some broken waiting-woman for ever
after. I find those imperfections in my venery, that
were’t not for flattery and falsehood, I should want
discourse and impudence; and he that wants impudence
among women is worthy to be kicked out at bed’s feet.
He shall not see me yet. [_Aside._
GREEN. Troth, this is finely shred.
LAX. O, women are the best mincers.
MIS. G. ’Thad been a good phrase for a cook’s wife, sir.
LAX. But ’twill serve generally, like the front of a new
almanac, as thus:—calculated for the meridian of cooks’
wives, but generally for all Englishwomen.
MIS. G. Nay, you shall ha’t, sir; I have filled it for
you. [_She puts it to the fire._
LAX. The pipe’s in a good hand, and I wish mine always
so.
GREEN. But not to be used a’ that fashion.
LAX. O, pardon me, sir, I understand no French. I pray,
be covered. Jack, a pipe of rich smoke!
GOS. Rich smoke? that’s sixpence a pipe, is’t?
GREEN. To me, sweet lady.
MIS. G. Be not forgetful; respect my credit; seem
strange: art and wit make[973] a fool of suspicion;
pray, be wary.
LAX. Push![974] I warrant you.—Come, how is’t, gallants?
GREEN. Pure and excellent.
LAX. I thought ’twas good, you were grown so silent: you
are like those that love not to talk at victuals, though
they make a worse noise i’ th’ nose than a common
fiddler’s ’prentice, and discourse a whole supper with
snuffling.—I must speak a word with you anon.
MIS. G. Make your way wisely, then.
GOS. O, what else, sir? he’s perfection itself; full of
manners, but not an acre of ground belonging to ’em.
GREEN. Ay, and full of form; has ne’er a good stool in’s
chamber.
GOS. But above all, religious; he preyeth daily upon
elder brothers.
GREEN. And valiant above measure; has run three streets
from a sergeant.
LAX. Puh, puh. [_He blows tobacco in their faces._
GREEN. O, puh!
GOS. Ho, ho!
LAX. So, so.
MIS. G. What’s the matter now, sir?
LAX. I protest I’m in extreme want of money; if you can
supply me now with any means, you do me the greatest
pleasure, next to the bounty of your love, as ever poor
gentleman tasted.
MIS. G. What’s the sum would pleasure ye, sir? though
you deserve nothing less at my hands.
LAX. Why, ’tis but for want of opportunity, thou
knowest.—I put her off with opportunity still: by this
light, I hate her, but for means to keep me in fashion
with gallants; for what I take from her, I spend upon
other wenches; bear her in hand[975] still: she has wit
enough to rob her husband, and I ways enough to consume
the money. [_Aside._]—Why, how now? what, the chincough?
GOS. Thou hast the cowardliest trick to come before a
man’s face, and strangle him ere he be aware! I could
find in my heart to make a quarrel in earnest.
LAX. Pox, and[976] thou dost—thou knowest I never use to
fight with my friends—thou’ll but lose thy labour in’t.—
Jack Dapper!

_Enter_ JACK DAPPER _and_ GULL.

GREEN. Monsieur Dapper, I dive down to your ancles.
J. DAP. Save ye, gentlemen, all three in a peculiar
salute.
GOS. He were ill to make a lawyer; he despatches three
at once.
LAX. So, well said.—But is this[977] of the same
tobacco, mistress Gallipot?

MIS. G. The same you had at first, sir.
LAX. I wish it no better: this will serve to drink[978]
at my chamber.
GOS. Shall we taste a pipe on’t?
LAX. Not of this, by my troth, gentlemen, I have sworn
before you.
GOS. What, not Jack Dapper?
LAX. Pardon me, sweet Jack; I’m sorry I made such a rash
oath, but foolish oaths must stand: where art going,
Jack?
J. DAP. Faith, to buy one feather.
LAX. One feather? the fool’s peculiar still.
[_Aside._
J. DAP. Gull.
GULL. Master?
J. DAP. Here’s three halfpence for your ordinary, boy;
meet me an hour hence in Paul’s.[979]
GULL. How? three single halfpence? life, this will
scarce serve a man in sauce, a halp’orth of mustard, a
halp’orth of oil, and a halp’orth of vinegar,—what’s
left then for the pickle herring? This shews like small
beer i’ th’ morning after a great surfeit of wine
o’ernight: he could spend his three pound last night in
a supper amongst girls and brave bawdyhouse boys: I
thought his pockets cackled not for nothing: these are
the eggs of three pound, I’ll go sup ’em up presently.
[_Aside, and exit._
LAX. Eight, nine, ten angels:[980] good wench, i’faith,
and one that loves darkness well; she puts out a candle
with the best tricks of any drugster’s wife in England:
but that which mads her, I rail upon opportunity still,
and take no notice on’t. The other night she would needs
lead me into a room with a candle in her hand to shew me
a naked picture, where no sooner entered, but the
candle was sent of an errand: now, I not intending to
understand her, but, like a puny at the inns of venery,
called for another light innocently; thus reward I all
her cunning with simple mistaking. I know she cozens her
husband to keep me, and I’ll keep her honest as long as
I can, to make the poor man some part of amends. An
honest mind of a whoremaster! how think you amongst you?
What, a fresh pipe? draw in a third man?
GOS. No, you’re a hoarder, you engross by th’ ounces.
[_At the feather-shop._
J. DAP. Pooh, I like it not.
MIS. T. What feather is’t you’d have, sir?
These are most worn and most in fashion:
Amongst the beaver gallants, the stone riders,
The private stage’s audience, the twelvepenny-stool
gentlemen,[981]
I can inform you ’tis the general feather.
J. DAP. And therefore I mislike it: tell me of
general!
Now, a continual Simon and Jude’s rain
Beat all your feathers as flat down as pancakes!
Shew me—a—spangled feather.
MIS. T. O, to go a-feasting with;
You’d have it for a hench-boy,[982] you shall.
[_At the sempster’s shop._
OPEN. Mass, I had quite forgot!
His honour’s footman was here last night, wife;
Ha’ you done with my lord’s shirt?
MIS. O. What’s that to you, sir?
I was this morning at his honour’s lodging,
Ere such a snake as you crept out of your shell.
OPEN. O, ’twas well done, good wife!
MIS. O. I hold it better, sir,
Than if you had done’t yourself.
OPEN. Nay, so say I:
But is the countess’s smock almost done, mouse?[983]
MIS. O. Here lies the cambric, sir; but wants, I fear
me.
OPEN. I’ll resolve[984] you of that presently.
MIS. O. Heyday! O audacious groom!
Dare you presume to noble women’s linen?
Keep you your yard to measure shepherds’ holland:
I must confine you, I see that.
[_At the tobacco-shop._
GOS. What say you to this gear?[985]
LAX. I dare the arrant’st critic in tobacco
To lay one fault upon’t.

_Enter_ MOLL _in a frieze jerkin and a black
saveguard_.[986]

GOS. Life, yonder’s Moll!
LAX. Moll! which Moll?
GOS. Honest Moll.
LAX. Prithee, let’s call her.—Moll!
GOS. Moll, Moll!
GREEN. Pist, Moll![987]
MOLL. How now? what’s the matter?
GOS. A pipe of good tobacco, Moll?
MOLL. I cannot stay.
GOS. Nay, Moll, pooh, prithee, hark; but one word,
i’faith.
MOLL. Well, what is’t?
GREEN. Prithee, come hither, sirrah.
LAX. Heart, I would give but too much money to be
nibbling with that wench! life, sh’as the spirit of four
great parishes, and a voice that will drown all the
city! Methinks a brave captain might get all his
soldiers upon her, and ne’er be beholding[988] to a
company of Mile-end milksops, if he could come on and
come off quick enough: such a Moll were a marrow-bone
before an Italian; he would cry _buona roba_[989] till
his ribs were nothing but bone. I’ll lay hard siege to
her: money is that aquafortis that eats into many a
maidenhead; where the walls are flesh and blood, I’ll
ever pierce through with a golden augre. [_Aside._
GOS. Now, thy judgment, Moll? is’t not good?
MOLL. Yes, faith, ’tis very good tobacco.—How do you
sell an ounce?—Farewell.—God b’i’ you, mistress
Gallipot.
GOS. Why, Moll, Moll!
MOLL. I cannot stay now, i’faith: I am going to buy a
shag-ruff; the shop will be shut in presently.
GOS. ’Tis the maddest fantasticalest girl! I never knew
so much flesh and so much nimbleness put together.
LAX. She slips from one company to another, like a fat
eel between a Dutchman’s fingers.—I’ll watch my time for
her. [_Aside._
MIS. G. Some will not stick to say she is a man,
And some, both man and woman.

f LAX. That were excellent: she might first cuckold the
husband, and then make him do as much for the wife.
[_At the feather-shop._
MOLL. Save you; how does mistress Tiltyard?
J. DAP. Moll!
MOLL. Jack Dapper!
J. DAP. How dost, Moll?
MOLL. I’ll tell thee by and by; I go but to th’ next
shop.
J. DAP. Thou shalt find me here this hour about a
feather.
MOLL. Nay, and[990] a feather hold you in play a whole
hour, a goose will last you all the days of your life.—
Let me see a good shag-ruff. [_At the sempster’s
shop._
OPEN. Mistress Mary, that shalt thou, i’faith, and the
best in the shop.
MIS. O. How now? greetings! love-terms, with a pox,
between you! have I found out one of your haunts? I send
you for hollands, and you’re i’ th’ low countries, with
a mischief. I’m served with good ware by th’ shift; that
makes it lie dead so long upon my hands: I were as good
shut up shop, for when I open it I take nothing.
OPEN. Nay, and you fall a-ringing once, the devil cannot
stop you.—I’ll out of the belfry as fast as I can, Moll.
[_Retires._
MIS. O. Get you from my shop!
MOLL. I come to buy.
MIS. O. I’ll sell ye nothing; I warn ye my house and
shop.
MOLL. You, goody Openwork, you that prick out a poor
living,
And sew[991] many a bawdy skin-coat together;
Thou private pandress between shirt and smock;
I wish thee for a minute but a man,
Thou shouldst ne’er use more shapes; but as thou art,
I pity my revenge. Now my spleen’s up,
I would not mock it willingly.—

_Enter a Fellow, with a long rapier by his side._

Ha! be thankful;
Now I forgive thee.
MIS. O. Marry, hang thee, I never asked forgiveness in
my life.
MOLL. You, goodman swine’s face!
FEL. What, will you murder me?
MOLL. You remember, slave, how you abused me t’other
night in a tavern.
FEL. Not I, by this light!
MOLL. No, but by candle-light you did: you have tricks
to save your oaths; reservations have you? and I have
reserved somewhat for you [_strikes him_]. As you like
that, call for more; you know the sign again.
FEL. Pox on’t, had I brought any company along with me
to have borne witness on’t, ’twould ne’er have grieved
me; but to be struck and nobody by, ’tis my ill fortune
still. Why, tread upon a worm, they say ’twill turn
tail; but indeed a gentleman should have more manners.
[_Aside, and exit._
LAX. Gallantly performed, i’faith, Moll, and manfully! I
love thee for ever for’t: base rogue, had he offered but
the least counter-buff, by this hand, I was prepared for
him!
MOLL. You prepared for him? why should you be prepared
for him? was he any more than a man?
LAX. No, nor so much by a yard and a handful, London
measure.
MOLL. Why do you speak this then? do you think I cannot
ride a stone-horse, unless one lead him by th’ snaffle?
LAX. Yes, and sit him bravely; I know thou canst, Moll:
’twas but an honest mistake through love, and I’ll make
amends for’t any way. Prithee, sweet, plump Moll, when
shall thou and I go out a’ town together?
MOLL. Whither? to Tyburn, prithee?
LAX. Mass, that’s out a’ town indeed: thou hangest so
many jests upon thy friends still! I mean honestly to
Brainford,[992] Staines, or Ware.
MOLL. What to do there?
LAX. Nothing but be merry and lie together: I’ll hire a
coach with four horses.
MOLL. I thought ’twould be a beastly journey. You may
leave out one well; three horses will serve, if I play
the jade myself.
LAX. Nay, push,[993] thou’rt such another kicking wench!
Prithee, be kind, and let’s meet.
MOLL. ’Tis hard but we shall meet, sir.
LAX. Nay, but appoint the place then; there’s ten
angels[994] in fair gold, Moll: you see I do not trifle
with you; do but say thou wilt meet me, and I’ll have a
coach ready for thee.
MOLL. Why, here’s my hand, I’ll meet you, sir.
LAX. O good gold! [_Aside._]—The place, sweet Moll?
MOLL. It shall be your appointment.
LAX. Somewhat near Holborn, Moll.
MOLL. In Gray’s-Inn-Fields then.
LAX. A match.
MOLL. I’ll meet you there.
LAX. The hour?
MOLL. Three.
LAX. That will be time enough to sup at Brainford.
OPEN. I am of such a nature, sir, I cannot endure the
house when she scolds: sh’as a tongue will be heard
further in a still morning than Saint Antling’s
bell.[995] She rails upon me for foreign wenching, that
I being a freeman must needs keep a whore i’ th’
suburbs, and seek to impoverish the liberties. When we
fall out, I trouble you still to make all whole with my
wife.
GOS. No trouble at all; ’tis a pleasure to me to join
things together.
OPEN. Go thy ways, I do this but to try thy honesty,
Goshawk. [_Aside._]
[_At the feather-shop._
J. DAP. How likest thou this, Moll?
MOLL. O, singularly; you’re fitted now for a bunch.—He
looks for all the world, with those spangled feathers,
like a nobleman’s bed-post. The purity of your wench
would I fain try; she seems like Kent unconquered, and,
I believe, as many wiles are in her. O, the gallants of
these times are shallow lechers! they put not their
courtship home enough to a wench: ’tis impossible to
know what woman is throughly honest, because she’s ne’er
thoroughly tried; I am of that certain belief, there are
more queans in this town of their own making than of any
man’s provoking: where lies the slackness then? many a
poor soul would down, and there’s nobody will push ’em:

Women are courted, but ne’er soundly tried,
As many walk in spurs that never ride. [_Aside._
[_At the sempster’s shop._
MIS. O. O, abominable!
GOS. Nay, more, I tell you in private, he keeps a whore
i’ th’ suburbs.
MIS. O. O spittle[996] dealing! I came to him a
gentlewoman born: I’ll shew you mine arms when you
please, sir.
GOS. I had rather see your legs, and begin that way.
[_Aside._
MIS. O. ’Tis well known he took me from a lady’s
service, where I was well beloved of the steward: I had
my Latin tongue, and a spice of the French, before I
came to him; and now doth he keep a suburbian whore
under my nostrils?
GOS. There’s ways enough to cry quit with him: hark in
thine ear. [_Whispers her._
MIS. O. There’s a friend worth a million!
MOLL. I’ll try one spear against your chastity, mistress
Tiltyard, though it prove too short by the burgh.[997]
[_Aside._

_Enter_ TRAPDOOR.

TRAP. Mass, here she is: I’m bound already to serve
her, though it be but a sluttish trick. [_Aside._]—Bless
my hopeful young mistress with long life and great
limbs; send her the upper hand of all bailiffs and their
hungry adherents!
MOLL. How now? what art thou?
TRAP. A poor ebbing gentleman, that would gladly wait
for the young flood of your service.
MOLL. My service? what should move you to offer your
service to me, sir?
TRAP. The love I bear to your heroic spirit and
masculine womanhood.
MOLL. So, sir! put case we should retain you to us, what
parts are there in you for a gentlewoman’s service?
TRAP. Of two kinds, right worshipful; moveable and
immoveable—moveable to run of errands, and immoveable to
stand when you have occasion to use me.
MOLL. What strength have you?
TRAP. Strength, mistress Moll? I have gone up into a
steeple, and stayed the great bell as’t has been
ringing; stopt a windmill going——
MOLL. And never struck down yourself?
TRAP. Stood as upright as I do at this present.
[MOLL _trips up his heels_.
MOLL. Come, I pardon you for this; it shall be no
disgrace to you: I have struck up the heels of the high
German’s size'[998] ere now. What, not stand?
TRAP. I am of that nature, where I love, I’ll be at my
mistress’ foot to do her service.
MOLL. Why, well said; but say your mistress should
receive injury, have you the spirit of fighting in you?
durst you second her?
TRAP. Life, I have kept a bridge myself, and drove seven
at a time before me!
MOLL. Ay?
TRAP. But they were all Lincolnshire bullocks, by my
troth. [_Aside._
MOLL. Well, meet me in Gray’s Inn Fields between three
and four this afternoon, and, upon better consideration,
we’ll retain you.
TRAP. I humbly thank your good mistresship.—I’ll crack
your neck for this kindness. [_Aside, & exit._
LAX. Remember three. [MOLL _meets_ LAXTON, _and_
MOLL. Nay, if I fail you, hang me.
LAX. Good wench, i’faith!
MOLL. Who’s this? [_then_ OPENWORK.
OPEN. ’Tis I, Moll.
MOLL. Prithee, tend thy shop and prevent bastards.
OPEN. We’ll have a pint of the same wine,[999] i’faith,
Moll. [_Exit with_ MOLL.] [_Bell rings._
GOS. Hark, the bell rings! come, gentlemen. Jack Dapper,
where shall’s all munch?
J. DAP. I am for Parker’s ordinary.
LAX. He’s a good guest to’m, he deserves his board; he
draws all the gentlemen in a term-time thither. We’ll be
your followers, Jack; lead the way.—Look you, by my
faith, the fool has feathered his nest well.
[_Exeunt_ JACK DAPPER, LAXTON, GOSHAWK, _and_ GREENWIT.

_Enter_ GALLIPOT, TILTYARD, _and Servants, with
water-spaniels and a duck_.

TILT. Come, shut up your shops. Where’s master
Openwork?
MIS. G. Nay, ask not me, master Tiltyard.
TILT. Where’s his water-dog? puh—pist[1000]—hur—hur—
pist!
GAL. Come, wenches, come; we’re going all to
Hogsdon.
MIS. G. To Hogsdon, husband?
GAL. Ay, to Hogsdon, pigsnie.[1001]
MIS. G. I’m not ready, husband.
GAL. Faith, that’s well—hum—pist—pist.—
[_Spits in the dog’s mouth._
Come, mistress Openwork, you are so long!
MIS. O. I have no joy of my life, master Gallipot.
GAL. Push,[1002] let your boy lead his water-spaniel
along, and we’ll shew you the bravest sport at Parlous
Pond.[1003]—Hey, trug, hey, trug, hey, trug![1004]
here’s the best duck in England, except my wife; hey,
hey, hey! fetch, fetch, fetch!—
Come, let’s away:[1005]
Of all the year this is the sportful’st day.
[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Street._

_Enter_ SEBASTIAN WENGRAVE.

SEB. If a man have a free will, where should the use
More perfect shine than in his will to love?
All creatures have their liberty in that,

_Enter behind_ SIR ALEX. WENGRAVE _listening._

Though else kept under servile yoke and fear;
The very bond-slave has his freedom there.
Amongst a world of creatures voic’d and silent,
Must my desires wear fetters?—Yea, are you
So near? then I must break with my heart’s truth,
Meet grief at a back way.—Well: why, suppose
The two-leav’d[1006] tongues of slander or of truth
Pronounce Moll loathsome; if before my love
She appear fair, what injury have I?
I have the thing I like: in all things else
Mine own eye guides me, and I find ’em prosper.
Life! what should ail it now? I know that man
Ne’er truly loves,—if he gainsay’t he lies,—
That winks and marries with his father’s eyes:
I’ll keep mine own wide open.

_Enter_ MOLL, _and a Porter with a viol on his back_.

S. ALEX. Here’s brave wilfulness!
A made match! here she comes; they met a’ purpose.
[_Aside._
POR. Must I carry this great fiddle to your chamber,
mistress Mary?
MOLL. Fiddle, goodman hog-rubber? Some of these porters
bear so much for others, they have no time to carry wit
for themselves.
POR. To your own chamber, mistress Mary?
MOLL. Who’ll hear an ass speak? whither else, goodman
pageant-bearer? They’re people of the worst memories!
[_Exit Porter._
SEB. Why, ’twere too great a burden, love, to have
them
Carry things in their minds and a’ their backs together.
MOLL. Pardon me, sir, I thought not you so near.
S. ALEX. So, so, so! [_Aside._
SEB. I would be nearer to thee, and in that fashion
That makes the best part of all creatures honest:
No otherwise I wish it.
MOLL. Sir, I am so poor to requite you, you must look
for nothing but thanks of me: I have no humour to marry;
I love to lie a’ both sides a’ th’ bed myself: and
again, a’ th’ other side, a wife, you know, ought to be
obedient, but I fear me I am too headstrong to obey;
therefore I’ll ne’er go about it. I love you so well,
sir, for your good will, I’d be loath you should repent
your bargain after; and therefore we’ll ne’er come
together at first. I have the head now of myself, and am
man enough for a woman: marriage is but a chopping and
changing, where a maiden loses one head, and has a worse
i’ th’ place.
S. ALEX. The most comfortablest answer from a roaring
girl
That ever mine ears drunk in! [_Aside._
SEB. This were enough
Now to affright a fool for ever from thee,
When ’tis the music that I love thee for.
S. ALEX. There’s a boy spoils all again! [_Aside._
MOLL. Believe it, sir, I am not of that disdainful
temper but I could love you faithfully.
S. ALEX. A pox on you for that word! I like you not
now,
You’re a cunning roarer, I see that already. [_Aside._
MOLL. But sleep upon this once more, sir; you may chance
shift a mind to-morrow: be not too hasty to wrong
yourself; never while you live, sir, take a wife
running; many have run out at heels that have done’t.
You see, sir, I speak against myself; and if every woman
would deal with their suitor so honestly, poor younger
brothers would not be so often gulled with old cozening
widows, that turn o’er all their wealth in trust to some
kinsman, and make the poor gentleman work hard for a
pension. Fare you well, sir.
SEB. Nay, prithee, one word more.
S. ALEX. How do I wrong this girl! she puts him off
still. [_Aside._
MOLL. Think upon this in cold blood, sir: you make as
much haste as if you were a-going upon a sturgeon
voyage. Take deliberation, sir; never choose a wife as
if you were going to Virginia.[1007]
SEB. And so[1008] we parted: my too-cursed fate!
S. ALEX. She is but cunning, gives him longer time
in’t. [_Aside._

_Enter Tailor._

TAI. Mistress Moll, mistress Moll! so ho, ho, so ho!
MOLL. There, boy, there, boy! what dost thou go
a-hawking after me with a red clout on thy finger?
TAI. I forgot to take measure on you for your new
breeches.
S. ALEX. Hoyda, breeches? what, will he marry a monster
with two trinkets? what age is this! if the wife go in
breeches, the man must wear long coats[1009] like a
fool. [_Aside._
MOLL. What fiddling’s here! would not the old pattern
have served your turn?
TAI. You change the fashion: you say you’ll have the
great Dutch slop,[1010] mistress Mary.
MOLL. Why, sir, I say so still.
TAI. Your breeches, then, will take up a yard more.
MOLL. Well, pray, look it be put in then.
TAI. It shall stand round and full, I warrant you.
MOLL. Pray, make ’em easy enough.
TAI. I know my fault now, t’other was somewhat stiff
between the legs; I’ll make these open enough, I warrant
you.
S. ALEX. Here’s good gear towards![1011] I have brought
up my son to marry a Dutch slop and a French doublet; a
codpiece daughter! [_Aside._
TAI. So, I have gone as far as I can go.
MOLL. Why, then, farewell.
TAI. If you go presently to your chamber, mistress Mary,
pray, send me the measure of your thigh by some honest
body.
MOLL. Well, sir, I’ll send it by a porter presently.
[_Exit._
TAI. So you had need, it is a lusty one; both of them
would make any porter’s back ache in England.
[_Exit._
SEB. I have examin’d the best part of man,
Reason and judgment; and in love, they tell me,
They leave me uncontroll’d: he that is sway’d
By an unfeeling blood, past heat of love,
His spring-time must needs err; his watch ne’er goes
right
That sets his dial by a rusty clock.
S. ALEX. [_coming forward_] So; and which is that
rusty clock, sir, you?
SEB. The clock at Ludgate, sir; it ne’er goes true.
S. ALEX. But thou go’st falser; not thy father’s cares
Can keep thee right: when that insensible work
Obeys the workman’s art, lets off the hour,
And stops again when time is satisfied:
But thou runn’st on; and judgment, thy main wheel,
Beats by all stops, as if the work would break,
Begun with long pains for a minute’s ruin:
Much like a suffering man brought up with care,
At last bequeath’d to shame and a short prayer.
SEB. I taste you bitterer than I can deserve, sir.
S. ALEX. Who has bewitch[’d] thee, son? what devil or
drug
Hath wrought upon the weakness of thy blood,
And betray’d all her hopes to ruinous folly?
O, wake from drowsy and enchanted shame,
Wherein thy soul sits, with a golden dream
Flatter’d and poison’d! I am old, my son;
O, let me prevail quickly!
For I have weightier business of mine own
Than to chide thee: I must not to my grave
As a drunkard to his bed, whereon he lies
Only to sleep, and never cares to rise:
Let me despatch in time; come no more near her.
SEB. Not honestly? not in the way of marriage?
S. ALEX. What sayst thou? marriage? in what place? the
Sessions-house?
And who shall give the bride, prithee? an indictment?
SEB. Sir, now ye take part with the world to wrong
her.
S. ALEX. Why, wouldst thou fain marry to be pointed
at?
Alas, the number’s great! do not o’erburden’t.
Why, as good marry a beacon on a hill,
Which all the country fix their eyes upon,
As her thy folly doats on. If thou long’st
To have the story of thy infamous fortunes
Serve for discourse in ordinaries and taverns,
Thou’rt in the way; or to confound thy name,
Keep on, thou canst not miss it; or to strike
Thy wretched father to untimely coldness,
Keep the left hand still, it will bring thee to’t.
Yet, if no tears wrung from thy father’s eyes,
Nor sighs that fly in sparkles from his sorrows,
Had power to alter what is wilful in thee,
Methinks her very name should fright thee from her,
And never trouble me.
SEB. Why, is the name of Moll so fatal, sir?
S. ALEX. Many one,[1012] sir, where suspect is
enter’d;
For, seek all London from one end to t’other,
More whores of that name than of any ten other.
SEB. What’s that to her? let those blush for
themselves:
Can any guilt in others condemn her?
I’ve vow’d to love her: let all storms oppose me
That ever beat against the breast of man,
Nothing but death’s black tempest shall divide us.
S. ALEX. O, folly that can doat on nought but shame!
SEB. Put case, a wanton itch runs through one name
More than another; is that name the worse,
Where honesty sits possest in’t? it should rather
Appear more excellent, and deserve more praise,
When through foul mists a brightness it can raise.
Why, there are of the devils honest gentlemen
And well descended, keep an open house,
And some a’ th’ good man’s[1013] that are arrant knaves.
He hates unworthily that by rote contemns,
For the name neither saves nor yet condemns;
And for her honesty, I’ve made such proof on’t
In several forms, so nearly watch’d her ways,
I will maintain that strict against an army,
Excepting you, my father. Here’s her worst,
Sh’as a bold spirit that mingles with mankind,
But nothing else comes near it: and oftentimes
Through her apparel somewhat shames her birth;
But she is loose in nothing but in mirth:
Would all Molls were no worse!
S. ALEX. This way I toil in vain, and give but
aim[1014]
To infamy and ruin: he will fall;
My blessing cannot stay him: all my joys
Stand at the brink of a devouring flood,
And will be wilfully swallow’d, wilfully.
But why so vain let all these tears be lost?
I’ll pursue her to shame, and so all’s crost.
[_Aside, and exit._
SEB. He’s gone with some strange purpose, whose effect
Will hurt me little if he shoot so wide,
To think I love so blindly: I but feed
His heart to this match, to draw on the other,
Wherein my joy sits with a full wish crown’d,
Only his mood excepted, which must change
By opposite policies, courses indirect;
Plain dealing in this world takes no effect.
This mad girl I’ll acquaint with my intent,
Get her assistance, make my fortunes known:
’Twixt lovers’ hearts she’s a fit instrument,
And has the art to help them to their own.
By her advice, for in that craft she’s wise,
My love and I may meet, spite of all spies. [_Exit._