Chapter XXI: Act IV: Scene I

_Near_ VALERIA’S _House_.

_Enter_ RICARDO _and Second Suitor on one side, and_
VALERIA _and First Suitor on the other_.

RIC. It goes well hitherto, my sweet protector.
SEC. SUIT. Ay, and shall still to th’ end, to th’ end,
my honey:
Wherefore have I enough, but to have’t go well, sir?
FIRST SUIT. My whole state on’t, thou over-throw’st
him, widow.
VAL. I hope well still, sir.
FIRST SUIT. Hope? be certain, wench:
I make no question now but thou art mine,
As sure as if I had thee in thy night-gear.
VAL. Byrlady,[650] that I doubt, sir.
FIRST SUIT. O,’tis clear, wench,
By one thing that I mark’d.
VAL. What’s that, good, sweet sir?
FIRST SUIT. A thing that never fail’d me.
VAL. Good sir, what?
FIRST SUIT. I heard our counsellor speak a word of
comfort,
_Invita voluntate_; ha, that’s he, wench,
The word of words, the precious chief, i’faith!
VAL. _Invita voluntate_; what’s the meaning, sir?
FIRST SUIT. Nay, there I leave you, but assure you
thus much,
I never heard him speak that word i’ my life,
But the cause went on’s side, that I mark’d ever.
SEC. SUIT. Do, do, and spare not: thou wouldst talk
with her?
RIC. Yes, with your leave and liking.
SEC. SUIT. Do, my adoption,
My chosen child; and[651] thou hold’st so obedient,
Sure thou wilt live and cozen all my kindred.
RIC. A child’s part in your love, that’s my ambition,
sir.
SEC. SUIT. Go, and deserve it then; please me well
now;
I love wrangling a’ life,[652] boy, there’s my delight;
I have no other venery but vexation,
That’s all, my honey, now: smartly now to her;
I have enough, and I will have my humour.
RIC. This need not ha’ been, widow.
VAL. You say right, sir;
No, nor your treachery, your close conspiracy
Against me for my wealth, need not ha’ been neither.
RIC. I had you fairly; I scorn treachery
To your woman that I never meant to marry,
Much more to you, whom I reserv’d for wife.
VAL. How, wife?
RIC. Ay, wife, wife, widow; be not asham’d on’t,
It’s the best calling ever woman came to,
And all your grace indeed, brag as you list.
SEC. SUIT. Ha, ha!
VAL. I grant you, sir, but not to be your wife.
FIRST SUIT. O, O!
RIC. Not mine? I think ’tis the best bargain
That e’er thou mad’st i’ thy life, or ever shall again,
When my head’s laid, but that’s not yet this three-score
year;
Let’s talk of nearer matters.
VAL. You’re as near, sir,
As e’er you’re like to be, if law can right me.
RIC. Now, before conscience, you’re a wilful
housewife.
VAL. How?
RIC. Ay, and I fear you spend my goods lavishly.
VAL. Your goods?
RIC. I shall miss much, I doubt me,
When I come to look over the inventory.
VAL. I’ll give you my word you shall, sir.
RIC. Look to’t, widow;
A night may come will call you to account for’t.
VAL. O, if you had me now, sir, in this heat,
I do but think how you’d be reveng’d on me!
RIC. Ay, may I perish else; if I would not get
Three children at a birth, and[653] I could, o’ thee!
FIRST SUIT. Take off your youngster there.
SEC. SUIT. Take off your widow first,
He shall have the last word, I pay for’t dearly.—
To her again, sweet boy, that side’s the weaker:
I have enough, and I will have my humour.

_Enter_ BRANDINO _and_ MARTINO.

VAL. O brother, see I’m up to th’ ears in law here!
Look, copy[654] upon copy.
BRAN. 'Twere grief enough,
If a man did but hear on’t, but I am
In pain to see it.
VAL. What, sore eyes still, brother?
BRAN. Worse and worse, sister; the old woman’s water
Does me no good.
VAL. Why, 't’as help’d many, sir.
BRAN. It helps not me, I’m sure.
MAR. O, O!
VAL. What ails Martino too?
MAR. O, O, the toothache, the toothache!
BRAN. Ah, poor worm! this he endures for me now:
There beats not a more mutual pulse of passion
In a kind husband when his wife breeds child
Than in Martino; I ha’ mark’d it ever;
He breeds all my pains in’s teeth still, and to
quit[655] me,
It is his eye-tooth too.
MAR. Ay, ay, ay, ay.
VAL. Where did I hear late of a skilful fellow,
Good for all kind of maladies? true, true, sir;
His flag hangs out in town here i’ th’ Cross Inn,
With admirable cures of all conditions;
It shews him a great travelling and learn’d empiric.
BRAN. We’ll both to him, Martino.
VAL. Hark you, brother;
Perhaps you may prevail, as one indifferent.
FIRST SUIT. Ay, about that, sweet widow.
VAL. True; speak low, sir.
BRAN. Well, what’s the business? say, say.
VAL. Marry, this, brother;
Call the young man aside from the old wolf there,
And whisper in his ear a thousand dollars,
If he will vanish and let fall the suit,
And never put’s to no more cost and trouble.
FIRST SUIT. Say me those words, good sir, I’ll make
'em worth
A chain of gold to you at your sister’s wedding.
BRAN. I shall do much for that.

_Enter_ VIOLETTA.

VAL. Welcome, sweetheart,
Thou com’st most happily; I’m bold to send for thee
To make a purpose good.
VIO. I take delight, forsooth,
In any such employment.
FIRST SUIT. Good wench, trust me.
RIC. How, sir, let fall the suit? 'life, I’ll go naked
first.
BRAN. A thousand dollars, sir, think upon them.
RIC. Why, they’re but a thousand dollars, when they’re
thought on.
BRAN. A good round sum.
RIC. A good round widow’s better;
There’s meat and money too. I have been bought
Out of my lands, and yielded; but, sir, scorn
To be bought out of my affection.
BRAN. Why, here’s even just my university spirit;
I priz’d a piece of red deer above gold then.
RIC. My patron would be mad, and[656] he should hear
on’t.
MAR. I pray, what’s good, sir, for a wicked tooth?
RIC. Hang’d, drawn, and quartering: is’t a hollow one?
MAR. Ay, ’tis a hollow one.
RIC. Then take the powder
Of a burnt warrant, mix’d with oil of felon.
MAR. Why sure you mock me.
RIC. Troth, I think I do, sir.
SEC. SUIT. Come hither, honey; what’s the news? in
whispers.
BRAN. He will not be bought out.
VAL. No? that’s strange, brother:
Pray take a little pains about this project then,
And try what that effects.
BRAN. I like this better.—
Look you, sweet gentles, see what I produce here
For amity’s sake and peace, to end all controversy;
This gentlewoman, my charge, left by her friends,
Whom for her person and her portion
I could bestow most richly, but in pity
To her affection, which lies bent at you, sir,
I am content to yield to her desire.
RIC. At me?
BRAN. But for this jar, 't had ne’er been offer’d.
I bring you flesh and money, a rich heir,
And a maid too, and that’s a thing worth thanks, sir,
Nay, one that has rid fifteen mile this morning
For your love only.
SEC. SUIT. Honey, hearken after her;
Being rich, I can have all my money there;
Ease my purse well, and never wage law further:
I have enough, yet I will have my humour.
RIC. Do you love me, forsooth?
VIO. O, infinitely!
RIC. I do not ask thee, that I meant to have thee,
But only to know what came in thy head to love me.
VIO. My time was come, sir; that’s all I can say.
RIC. 'Las, poor soul! where didst thou love me first,
prithee?
VIO. In happy hour be’t spoke, out at a window, sir.
RIC. A window? prithee, clap’t to, and call it in
again:
What was I doing then, should make thee love me?
VIO. Twirling your band-string, which, methought,
became you
So generously well.
RIC. 'Twas a good quality to choose a husband for; that
love was likely to be tied in matrimony that begun in a
band-string; yet I ha’ known as much come to pass ere
now upon a tassel. Fare you well, sister; I may be
cozened in a maid, I cannot in a widow.

SEC. SUIT. Art thou come home again? stick’st thou
there still?
I will defend thee still then.
FIRST SUIT. Sir, your malice
Will have enough on’t.
SEC. SUIT. I will have my humour.
FIRST SUIT. Beggary will prove the sponge.
SEC. SUIT. Sponge i’ thy gascoyns,
Thy gally-gascoyns[657] there!
RIC. Ha, brave protector!
BRAN. I thought 'twould come to open wars again:
Let 'em agree as they will, two testy fops!
I’ll have a care of mine eyes.
MAR. I of my chops. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Room in the Cross Inn._

_Enter_ LATROCINIO _disguised as an empiric, and_
OCCULTO _as his man_.

LAT. Away, out with the banner! send’s good luck
to-day!
OCC. I warrant you; your name’s spread, sir, for an
empiric:
[_Hanging up a Banner of Cures and Diseases._
There’s an old mason troubled with the stone
Has sent to you this morning for your counsel,
He would have ease fain.
LAT. Marry, I cannot blame him, sir;
But how he will come by’t, there lies the question.
OCC. You must do somewhat, sir; for he’s swoln most
piteously,
Has urine in him now was brew’d last March.
LAT. 'Twill be rich gear for dyers.
OCC. I would 'twere come to that, sir.
LAT. Le’ me see,
I’ll send him a whole musket-charge of gunpowder.[658]
OCC. Gunpowder? what, sir, to break the stone?
LAT. Ay, by my faith, sir,
It is the likeliest thing I know to do’t;
I’m sure it breaks stone-walls and castles down;
I see no reason but’t should break the stone.
OCC. Nay, use your pleasure, sir.
LAT. Troth, if that do not,
I ha’ nothing else that will.
OCC. I know that too.
LAT. Why then thou’rt a coxcomb to make question on’t.
Go call in all the rest, I’ve employment for them.
[_Exit_ OCCULTO.

When the highways grow thin with travellers,
And few portmanteaus stirring, as all trades
Have their dead time we see, thievery poor takings,
And lechery cold doings, and so forwards still;
Then do I take my inn, and those curmudgeons
Whose purses I can never get abroad,
I take 'em at more ease here i’ my chamber,
And make 'em come to me; it’s more state-like too.
Hang him that has but one way to his trade!
He’s like a mouth that eats but on one side,
And half-cozens his belly, ’specially if he dine 'mong
shavers
And both-handed feeders.—Stratio, Silvio, and Fiducio!

_Enter_ SILVIO, STRATIO, _and_ FIDUCIO.

I will have none left out, there’s parts for you.
SIL. For us? pray let us have 'em.
LAT. Change yourselves
With all speed possible into several shapes,
Far from your own: as, you a farmer, sir;
A grazier you; and you may be a miller.
FID. O no, a miller comes too near a thief;
That may spoil all again.
LAT. Some country tailor then.
FID. That’s near enough, byrlady,[659] yet I’ll
venture that;
The miller’s a white devil, he wears his theft
Like innocence in badges most apparently
Upon his nose, sometimes between his lips;
The tailor modestly between his legs.
LAT. Why, pray, do you 'present that modest thief,
then;
And hark you, for the purpose.
SIL. 'Twill improve you, sir.
LAT. 'Twill get believers, believe that, my masters,
Repute and confidence, and make all things clearer;
When you see any come, repair you to me,
As samples of my skill: there are few arts
But have their shadows, sirs, to set 'em off;
Then where the art itself is but a shadow,
What need is there, my friends! Make haste, away, sirs.
[_Exeunt_ SILVIO, STRATIO, _and_ FIDUCIO.

_Re-enter_ OCCULTO.

OCC. Where are you, sir?
LAT. Not far, man; what’s the news?
OCC. th’ old justice, sir, whom we robb’d once by
moonlight,
And bound his man and he in haycock time
With a rope made of horse-meat, and in pity
Left their mares by 'em, which, I think, ere midnight
Did eat their hay-bound masters both at liberty——
LAT. 'Life, what of him, man?
OCC. He’s inquiring earnestly
For the great man of art, indeed for you, sir:
Therefore withdraw, sweet sir; make yourself dainty now,
And that’s three parts of any profession.
LAT. I have enough on’t. [_Exit._

_Enter_ MARTIA _in_ BRANDINO’S _clothes_.

OCC. How now, what thing’s this?
Now, by this light, the second part o’ th’ justice
Newly reviv’d, with never a hair on’s face.
It should be the first rather by his smoothness,
But I ha’ known the first part written last:[660]
’Tis he, or let me perish, the young gentleman
We robb’d and stript; but I am far from knowledge now.
[_Aside._
MARTIA. One word, I pray, sir.
OCC. With me, gentle sir?
MARTIA. Was there not lately seen about these parts,
sir,
A knot of fellows, whose conditions
Are privily suspected?
OCC. Why do you ask, sir?
MARTIA. There was a poor young gentleman robb’d last
night.
OCC. Robb’d?
MARTIA. Stript of all, i’faith.
OCC. O beastly rascals!
'Las, what was he?
MARTIA. Look o’ me, and know him, sir.
OCC. Hard-hearted villains! strip? troth, when I saw
you,
Methought those clothes were never made for you, sir.
MARTIA. Want made me glad o’ 'em.
OCC. Send you better fortunes, sir!—
That we may have a bout with you once again. [_Aside._
MARTIA. I thank you for your wish of love, kind sir.
OCC. ’Tis with my heart, i’faith; now store of coin
And better clothes be with you!
MARTIA. There’s some honest yet,
And charitably-minded. How, what’s here to do?
[_Reads on the banner._
_Here within this place is cur’d
All the griefs that were ever endur’d._
Nay, there thou liest; I endur’d one last night
Thou canst not cure this morning; a strange promiser!
[_Reads._

_Palsy, gout, hydropic humour,
Breath that stinks beyond perfumer,
Fistula in ano, ulcer, megrim,
Or what disease soe’er beleaguer 'em,
Stone, rupture, squinancy, imposthume;
Yet too dear it shall not cost 'em._
That’s conscionably said, i’faith. [_Reads._
_In brief, you cannot, I assure you,
Be unsound so fast as I can cure you._
Byrlady,[661] you shall pardon me, I’ll not try’t, sir.

_Enter_ BRANDINO _and_ MARTINO.

BRAN. Martino, is not yond my hinder parts?
MAR. Yes, and your fore parts too, sir.
BRAN. I trow so;
I never saw my hind parts in my life else,
No, nor my fore ones neither.—What are you, sir?
Are you a justice, pray?
MARTIA. A justice? no, truly.
BRAN. How came this suit to you, then?
MARTIA. How this suit?
Why, must he needs be a justice, sir, that wears it?
BRAN. You’ll find it so; ’twas made for nobody else:
I paid for’t.
MARTIA. O strange fortune! I’ve undone
The charitable woman. [_Aside._
BRAN. He’ll be gone.
Martino, hold him fast, I’ll call for aid.
MARTIA. Hold me? O curse of fate!
[_Strikes_ MARTINO.
MAR. O master, master!
BRAN. What ails Martino?
MAR. In my conscience,
Has beat out the wrong tooth; I feel it now
Three degrees off.
BRAN. O slave, spoil’d a fine penman!
MARTIA. He lack’d good manners, though; lay hands o’
me?
I scorn all the deserts that belong to it.

_Re-enter_ LATROCINIO.

LAT. Why, how now? what’s the broil?
BRAN. The man of art,
I take you, sir, to be.
LAT. I’m the professor
Of those slight cures you read of in the banner.
BRAN. Our business was to you, most skilful sir;
But in the way to you, right worshipful,
I met a thief.
LAT. A thief?
BRAN. With my clothes on, sir:
Let but the hose[662] be search’d, I’ll pawn my life
There’s yet the tailor’s bill in one o’ th’ pockets,
And a white thimble that I found i’ moonlight—
Thou saw’st me when I put it in, Martino?
MAR. Oy, oy!
BRAN. O, has spoil’d
The worthiest clerk that e’er drew warrant here!
LAT. Sir, you’re a stranger, but I must deal plain
with you;
That suit of clothes must needs come oddly to you.
MARTIA. I dare not say which way, that’s my
affliction. [_Aside._
LAT. Is not your worship’s name signor Brandino, sir?
BRAN. It has been so these threescore year[s] and
upwards.
LAT. I heard there was a robbery done last night
Near to your house.
MARTIA. You heard a truth then, sir,
And I the man was robb’d.
LAT. Ah, that’s too gross!—
Send him away for fear of farther mischief;
I do not like him, he’s a cunning knave.
BRAN. I want but aid.
LAT. Within there!

_Enter Servants._

BRAN. Seize upon
That impudent thief.
MARTIA. Then hear me speak.
BRAN. Away!
I’ll neither hear thee speak, nor wear those clothes
again.—
To prison with the varlet!
MARTIA. How am I punish’d!
BRAN. I’ll make thee bring out all before I leave
thee.
[_Exeunt Servants with_ MARTIA.
LAT. You’ve took an excellent course with this bold
villain, sir.
BRAN. I’m sworn for service to the commonwealth, sir.

_Enter_ SILVIO, STRATIO, _and_ FIDUCIO, _disguised_.
What are these, learned sir?
LAT. O, they’re my patients.—
Good morrow, gout, rupture, and palsy.
STRA. ’Tis farewell gout almost, I thank your worship.
LAT. What, no, you cannot part so soon, I hope?
You came but lately to me.
STRA. But most happily;
I can go near to leap, sir. [_Leaps._
LAT. What, you cannot?
Away, I say! take heed, be not too vent’rous though;
I’ve had you but three days, remember that.
STRA. Those three are better than three hundred, sir.
[_Leaps._
LAT. Yet again?
STRA. Ease takes pleasure to be known, sir.
LAT. You with the rupture there, _hernia in scrotum_,
Pray let me see your space[663] this morning; walk, sir,
I’ll take your distance straight; ’twas F. O. yesterday:
Ah, sirrah, here’s a simple alteration!
_Secundo gradu_, ye F. U. already;
Here’s a most happy change. Be of good comfort, sir;
Your knees are come within three inches now
Of one another; by to-morrow noon,
I’ll make 'em kiss and jostle.
SIL. Bless your worship!
BRAN. You’ve a hundred prayers in a morning, sir.
LAT. Faith, we’ve a few to pass away the day with.—
Tailor, you had a stitch?
FID. O, good your worship,
I have had none since Easter: were I rid
But of this whoreson palsy, I were happy;
I cannot thread my needle.
LAT. No? that’s hard;
I never mark’d so much.
FID. It comes by fits, sir.
LAT. Alas, poor man!—What would your worship say now
To see me help this fellow at an instant?
BRAN. And make him firm from shaking?
LAT. As a steeple,
From the disease on’t.
BRAN. ’Tis to me miraculous.
LAT. You with your whoremaster disease, come hither;
Here, take me this round glass, and hold it stedfast;
[_Gives glass._
Yet more, sir; yet, I say; so.
BRAN. Admirable!
LAT. Go, live, and thread thy needle.
BRAN. Here, Martino:—
Alas, poor fool, his mouth is full of praises,
And cannot utter 'em.
LAT. No? what’s the malady?
BRAN. The fury of a tooth.
LAT. A tooth? ha, ha!
I thought 't had been some gangrene, fistula,
Canker, or ramex.
BRAN. No, it’s enough as ’tis, sir.
LAT. My man shall ease that straight.—Sit you down
there, sir— [MARTINO _seats himself_.
Take the tooth, sirrah, daintily, insensibly—
But what’s your worship’s malady? that’s for me, sir.
BRAN. Marry, pray, look you, sir; your worship’s
counsel
About mine eyes.
LAT. Sore eyes? that’s nothing too, sir.
BRAN. Byrlady,[664] I that feel it think it somewhat.
LAT. Have you no convulsions, pricking aches, sir,
Ruptures, or apostemates?
BRAN. No, by my faith, sir,
Nor do I desire to have 'em.
LAT. Those are cures;
There do I win my fame, sir.—Quickly, sirrah,
Reach me the eye-cup hither.—
[OCCULTO _gives him the eye-cup_.
Do you make water well, sir?
BRAN. I’m all well there.
LAT. You feel no grief i’ th’ kidney?
BRAN. Sound, sound, sound, sir.
LAT. O, here’s a breath, sir, I must talk withal,
One of these mornings.
BRAN. There I think, i’faith,
I am to blame indeed, and my wife’s words
Are come to pass, sir.
MAR. O, O! ’tis not that,’tis not that!
[_While_ OCCULTO _gives a pull at one of his teeth_.

It is the next beyond it; there, there, there!
OCC. The best have their mistakings: now I’ll fit you,
sir.
BRAN. What’s that, sweet sir, that comforts with his
coolness?
LAT. O, sovereign gear: wink hard, and keep it in,
sir.
[_While he applies the eye-cup to_ BRANDINO,
_he picks his pocket_.
MAR. O, O, O!
OCC. Nay, here he goes; one twitch more, and he comes,
sir.

[_While he draws one of_ MARTINO’S _teeth, he
picks his pocket_.
MAR. Auh, ho!
OCC. Spit out; I told you he was gone, sir.
BRAN. How cheers Martino?
MAR. O, I can answer you now, master;
I feel great ease, sir.
BRAN. So do I, Martino.
MAR. I’m rid of a sore burden, for my part, master,
Of a scald[665] little one.
LAT. Please but your worship now
To take three drops of the rich water with you,
I’ll undertake your man shall cure you, sir,
At twice i’ your own chamber.
BRAN. Shall he so, sir?
LAT. I will uphold him in’t.
MAR. Then will I do’t, sir.
LAT. How lively your man’s now!
MAR. O, I’m so light, methinks,
Over I was![666]
BRAN. What is’t contents your worship?
LAT. Even what your worship please; I am not
mercenary.
BRAN. My purse is gone, Martino!
LAT. How, your purse, sir?
BRAN. ’Tis gone, i’faith; I’ve been among some
rascals.
MAR. And that’s a thing
I ever gave you warning of, master; you care not
What company you run into.
BRAN. Lend me some money; chide me anon, I prithee.
A pox on 'em for vipers! they ha’ suck’d blood o’ me.
MAR. O master!
BRAN. How now, man?
MAR. My purse is gone too!
BRAN. How?
I’ll ne’er take warning more of thee while I live then;
Thou art an hypocrite, and art not fit
To give good counsel to thy master, that
Canst not keep from ill company thyself.
LAT. This is most strange, sir; both your purses gone!
MAR. Sir, I’d my hand on mine when I came in.
LAT. Are you but sure of that? O, would you were!
MAR. As I’m of ease.
LAT. Then they’re both gone one way,
Be that your comfort.
BRAN. Ay, but what way’s that, sir?
LAT. That close knave in your clothes has got 'em
both;
’Tis well you’ve clapt him fast.
BRAN. Why, that’s impossible.
LAT. O, tell not me, sir! I ha’ known purses gone,
And the thief stand and look one full i’ th’ face,
As I may do your worship and your man now.
MAR. Nay, that’s most certain, master.
BRAN. I will make
That rascal in my clothes answer all this then,
And all the robberies that have been done
Since the moon chang’d.—Get you home first, Martino,
And know if any of my wife’s things are missing,
Or any more of mine: tell her he’s taken,
And by that token he has took both our purses.
MAR. That’s an ill token, master.
BRAN. That’s all one, sir,
She must have that or nothing; for I’m sure
The rascal has left nothing else for a token.
Begone!
Make haste again, and meet me part o’ th’ way.
MAR. I’ll hang the villain,
And 'twere for nothing but the souse he gave me.
[_Exit._
BRAN. Sir, I depart asham’d of my requital,
And leave this seal-ring with you as a pledge
Of further thankfulness. [_Gives ring._
LAT. No, I beseech you, sir.
BRAN. Indeed you shall, sir.
LAT. O, your worship’s word, sir.
BRAN. You shall have my word too, for a rare gentleman
As e’er I met withal. [_Exit._
LAT. Clear sight be with you, sir;
If conduit-water, and my hostess’ milk,
That comes with the ninth child now, may afford it!
'Life, I fear’d none but thee, my villanous
tooth-drawer.
OCC. There was no fear of me; I’ve often told you
I was bound prentice to a barber once,
But ran away i’ th’ second year.
LAT. Ay, marry,
That made thee give a pull at the wrong tooth,
And me afraid of thee. What have we there, sirs?
OCC. Some threescore dollars i’ the master’s purse,
And sixteen in the clerk’s, a silver seal,
Two or three amber beads, and four blank warrants.
LAT. Warrants! where be they? the best news came yet:
'Mass, here’s his hand, and here’s his seal; I thank
him:
This comes most luckily; one of our fellows
Was took last night, we’ll set him first at liberty,
And other good boys after him; and if he
In th’ old justice’s suit, whom we[667] robb’d lately,
Will come oft 'roundly,[668] we’ll set him free too.
OCC. That were a good deed, faith; we may, in pity.
LAT. There’s nothing done merely for pity now-a-days,
Money or ware must help too.

_Song, in parts, by_ LATROCINIO _and the rest_

_Give me fortune, give me health,
Give me freedom, I’ll get wealth:
Who complains his fate’s amiss,
When he has the wide world his?
He that has the devil in fee
Can have but all, and so have we.
Give us fortune, give us health,
Give us freedom, we’ll get wealth.
In every hamlet, town, and city,
He has lands that was born witty._
[_Exeunt._