Chapter IV: Act III: Scene I

CANDIDO’S _Shop_.

CANDIDO, VIOLA, GEORGE, _and two Prentices discovered_:
FUSTIGO _enters, walking by_.[119]

GEO. See, gentlemen, what you lack?[120] a fine
holland, a fine cambric: see what you buy.
FIRST P. Holland for shirts, cambric for bands; what
is’t you lack?
FUS. ’Sfoot, I lack 'em all; nay, more, I lack money to
buy 'em. Let me see, let me look again: mass, this is
the shop. [_Aside._]—What, coz, sweet coz! how dost,
i’faith, since last night after candle-light? we had
good sport, i’faith, had we not? and when shall’s laugh
again?
VIO. When you will, cousin.
FUS. Spoke like a kind Lacedemonian! I see yonder’s thy
husband.
VIO. Ay, there’s the sweet youth, God bless him!
FUS. And how is’t, cousin? and how, how is’t, thou
squall?[121]
VIO. Well, cousin: how fare you?
FUS. How fare I? troth, for sixpence a-meal, wench, as
well as heart can wish, with calves’ chaldrons[122] and
chitterlings; besides, I have a punk after supper, as
good as a roasted apple.
CAN. Are you my wife’s cousin?
FUS. I am, sir: what hast thou to do with that?
CAN. O, nothing, but you’re welcome.
FUS. The devil’s dung in thy teeth! I’ll be welcome
whether thou wilt or no, I.—What ring’s this, coz? very
pretty and fantastical, i’faith; let’s see it.
VIO. Pooh! nay, you wrench my finger.
FUS. I ha’ sworn I’ll ha’t, and I hope you will not let
my oaths be cracked in the ring,[123] will you? [_Seizes
the ring._]—I hope, sir, you are not malicholly[124] at
this, for all your great looks: are you angry?
CAN. Angry? not I, sir: nay, if she can part
So easily with her ring, ’tis with my heart.
GEO. Suffer this, sir, and suffer all: a whoreson gull
to——
CAN. Peace, George: when she has reap’d what I have
sown,
She’ll say one grain tastes better of her own
Than whole sheaves gather’d from another’s land:
Wit’s never good till bought at a dear hand.
GEO. But in the mean time she makes an ass of somebody.
SEC. P. See, see, see, sir, as you turn your back they
do nothing but kiss.
CAN. No matter, let 'em: when I touch her lip
I shall not feel his kisses,[125] no, nor miss
Any of her lip: no harm in kissing is.
Look to your business, pray, make up your wares.
FUS. Troth, coz, and well remembered; I would thou
wouldst give me five yards of lawn, to make my punk some
falling-bands[126] a’ the fashion; three falling one
upon another, for that’s the new edition now: she’s out
of linen horribly too; troth, sha’s never a good smock
to her back neither, but one that has a great many
patches in’t, and that I’m fain to wear myself for
want of shift too: prithee, put me into wholesome
napery,[127] and bestow some clean commodities upon us.
VIO. Reach me those cambrics and the lawns hither.
CAN. What to do, wife?
To lavish out my goods upon a fool?
FUS. Fool? ’Snails, eat the fool, or I’ll so batter your
crown that it shall scarce go for five shillings.
SEC. P. Do you hear, sir? you’re best be quiet, and say
a fool tells you so.
FUS. Nails, I think so, for thou tellest me.
CAN. Are you angry, sir, because I nam’d the fool?
Trust me, you are not wise, in mine own house
And to my face to play the antic thus:
If you’ll needs play the madman, choose a stage
Of lesser compass, where few eyes may note
Your action’s error; but if still you miss,
As here you do, for one clap, ten will hiss.
FUS. Zounds, cousin, he talks to me as if I were a
scurvy tragedian!
SEC. P. Sirrah George, I ha’ thought upon a device, how
to break his pate, beat him soundly, and ship him away.
GEO. Do’t.
SEC. P. I’ll go in, pass thorough the house, give some
of our fellow-prentices the watch-word when they shall
enter; then come and fetch my master in by a wile, and
place one in the hall to hold him in conference whilst
we cudgel the gull out of his coxcomb.
GEO. Do’t; away, do’t. [_Exit Second Prentice._
VIO. Must I call twice for these cambrics and lawns?
CAN. Nay, see, you anger her; George, prithee,
despatch.
FIRST P. Two of the choicest pieces are in the
warehouse, sir.
CAN. Go fetch them presently.
FUS. Ay, do; make haste, sirrah.
[_Exit First Prentice._
CAN. Why were you such a stranger all this while,
Being my wife’s cousin?
FUS. Stranger? no, sir, I’m a natural Milaner born.
CAN. I perceive still it is your natural guise
To mistake me: but you’re welcome, sir; I much
Wish your acquaintance.
FUS. My acquaintance? I scorn that, i’faith. I hope my
acquaintance goes in chains of gold three and fifty
times double:—you know who I mean, coz; the posts of his
gate are a-painting too.[128]

_Re-enter Second Prentice._

SEC. P. Signor Pandulfo the merchant desires conference
with you.
CAN. Signor Pandulfo? I’ll be with him straight.
Attend your mistress and the gentleman. [_Exit._
VIO. When do you shew those pieces?
FUS. Ay, when do you shew those pieces?

PRENTICES [_within_].[129] Presently, sir, presently;
we are but charging them.
FUS. Come, sirrah, you flat-cap,[130] where be these
whites?

_Re-enter First Prentice, with pieces._
GEO. Flat-cap? hark in your ear, sir; you’re a flat
fool, an ass, a gull, and I’ll thrum you:—do you see
this cambric, sir?
FUS. ’Sfoot, coz, a good jest; did you hear him? he told
me in my ear I was _a flat fool, an ass, a gull, and
I’ll thrum you:—do you see this cambric, sir?_
VIO. What, not my men, I hope?
FUS. No, not your men, but one of your men, i’faith.
FIRST P. I pray, sir, come hither: what say you to this?
here’s[131] an excellent good one.
FUS. Ay, marry, this likes[132] me well; cut me off some
half-score yards.
SEC. P. Let your whores cut; you’re an impudent coxcomb;
you get none, and yet I’ll thrum you:—a very good
cambric, sir.
FUS. Again, again, as God judge me! ’sfoot, coz, they
stand thrumming here with me all day, and yet I get
nothing.
FIRST P. A word, I pray, sir; you must not be angry;
prentices have hot bloods, young fellows—what say you to
this piece? look you, ’tis so delicate, so soft, so
even, so fine a thread, that a lady may wear it.
FUS. ’Sfoot, I think so; if a knight marry my punk, a
lady shall wear it: cut me off twenty yards; thou’rt an
honest lad.
FIRST P. Not without money, gull, and I’ll thrum you
too.

PRENTICES [_within_]. Gull, we’ll thrum you!
FUS. O lord, sister, did you not hear something cry
thrum? zounds, your men here make a plain ass of me.
VIO. What, to my face so impudent?
GEO. Ay, in a cause so honest; we’ll not suffer
Our master’s goods to vanish moneyless.
VIO. You will not suffer them!
SEC. P. No; and you may blush,
In going about to vex so mild a breast
As is our master’s.
VIO. Take away those pieces,
Cousin, I give them freely.
FUS. Mass, and I’ll take 'em as freely.
GEO., FIRST AND SEC. P., AND OTHER PRENTICES RUSHING IN.
We’ll make you lay 'em down again more freely.
[_They all attack_ FUSTIGO _with their clubs_.
VIO. Help, help! my brother will be murdered.

_Re-enter_ CANDIDO.

CAN. How now, what coil is here? forbear, I say!
[_Exeunt all the Prentices except the First and Second._

GEO. He calls us flat-caps, and abuses us.
CAN. Why, sirs, do such examples flow from me?
VIO. They’re of your keeping sir.—Alas, poor brother!
FUS. I’faith, they ha’ peppered me, sister; look, dost
not spin? call you these prentices? I’ll ne’er play at
cards more when clubs is trump: I have a goodly coxcomb,
sister, have I not?
CAN. Sister, and brother? brother to my wife?
FUS. If you have any skill in heraldry, you may soon
know that; break but her pate, and you shall see her
blood and mine is all one.
CAN. A surgeon! run, a surgeon! [_Exit First
Prentice._]—Why then wore you
That forged name of cousin?
FUS. Because it’s a common thing to call coz[133] and
ningle[134] now-a-days all the world over.
CAN. Cousin!
A name of much deceit, folly, and sin;
For under that common, abused word,
Many an honest-temper’d citizen
Is made a monster, and his wife train’d out
To foul adulterous action, full of fraud:
I may well call that word a city’s bawd.
FUS. Troth, brother, my sister would needs ha’ me take
upon me to gull your patience a little; but it has made
double gules[135] on my coxcomb.
VIO. What, playing the woman? blabbing now, you fool?
CAN. O, my wife did but exercise a jest
Upon your wit.
FUS. ’Sfoot, my wit bleeds for’t, methinks.
CAN. Then let this warning more of sense afford;
The name of cousin is a bloody word.
FUS. I’ll ne’er call coz again whilst I live, to have
such a coil about it: this should be a coronation-day,
for my head runs claret lustily.
[_Exit._
CAN. Go, wish[136] the surgeon to have great respect—
[_Exit Second Prentice._

_Enter an Officer._

How now, my friend? what, do they sit to-day?
OFF. Yes, sir; they expect you at the senate-house.
CAN. I thank your pains; I’ll not be last man there.—
[_Exit Officer._

My gown, George; go, my gown. [_Exit_ GEORGE.]—A happy
land,
Where grave men meet each cause to understand;
Whose consciences are not cut out in bribes
To gull the poor man’s right; but in even scales
Peize[137] rich and poor, without corruption’s veils.—

_Re-enter_ GEORGE.

Come, where’s the gown?
GEO. I cannot find the key, sir.
CAN. Request it of your mistress.
VIO. Come not to me for any key;
I’ll not be troubled to deliver it.
CAN. Good wife, kind wife, it is a needful trouble;
But for my gown.
VIO. Moths swallow down your gown!
You set my teeth on[138] edge with talking on’t.
CAN. Nay, prithee, sweet,—I cannot meet without it;
I should have a great fine set on my head.
VIO. Set on your coxcomb; tush, fine me no fines!
CAN. Believe me, sweet, none greets the senate-house
Without his robe of reverence,—that’s his gown.
VIO. Well, then, you’re like to cross that custom
once;
You get nor key nor gown; and so depart.—
This trick will vex him sure, and fret his heart.
[_Aside, and exit._
CAN. Stay, let me see, I must have some device,—
My cloak’s too short; fie, fie, no cloak will do’t;
It must be something fashion’d like a gown,
With my arms out.—O, George, come hither, George;
I prithee, lend me thine advice.
GEO. Troth, sir,
Were’t any but you, they would break open chest.
CAN. O no! break open chest? that’s a thief’s office;
Therein you counsel me against my blood;
'Twould shew impatience that: any meek means
I would be glad to embrace. Mass, I have got it:
Go, step up, fetch me down one of the carpets,[139]
The saddest-colour’d carpet, honest George;
Cut thou a hole i’ th’ middle for my neck,
Two for mine arms. Nay, prithee, look not strange.
GEO. I hope you do not think, sir, as you mean.
CAN. Prithee, about it quickly, the hour chides me:
Warily, George, softly; take heed of eyes.
[_Exit_ GEORGE.
Out of two evils he’s accounted wise
That can pick out the least: the fine impos’d
For an ungowned senator is about
Forty cruzadoes,[140] the carpet not 'bove four.
Thus have I chosen the lesser evil yet,
Preserv’d my patience, foil’d her desperate wit.

_Re-enter_ GEORGE _with carpet_.

GEO. Here, sir, here’s the carpet.
CAN. O, well done, George! we’ll cut it just i’ th’
midst.
[_They cut the carpet._

’Tis very well; I thank thee: help it on.
GEO. It must come over your head, sir, like a wench’s
petticoat.
[_Helping to put it on._

CAN. Thou’rt in the right, good George; it must
indeed.
Fetch me a nightcap, for I’ll gird it close,
As if my health were queasy; 'twill shew well
For a rude, careless nightgown; will’t not, think’st?
GEO. Indifferent well, sir, for a nightgown, being girt
and plaited.
CAN. Ay, and a nightcap on my head.
GEO. That’s true, sir; I’ll run and fetch one, and a
staff. [_Exit._
CAN. For thus they cannot choose but conster[141] it:
One that is out of health takes no delight,
Wears his apparel without appetite,
And puts on heedless raiment without form.—

_Re-enter_ GEORGE _with nightcap and staff_.

So, so, [_puts on the nightcap_] kind George; be secret
now; and, prithee,
Do not laugh at me till I’m out of sight.
GEO. I laugh? not I, sir.
CAN. Now to the senate-house.
Methinks I’d rather wear, without a frown,
A patient carpet than an angry gown. [_Exit._
GEO. Now looks my master just like one of our carpet
knights,[142] only he’s somewhat the honester of the
two.

_Re-enter_ VIOLA.

VIO. What, is your master gone?
GEO. Yes, forsooth, his back is but new turned.
VIO. And in his cloak? did he not vex and swear?
GEO. [_aside_] No; but he’ll make you swear anon.—No,
indeed, he went away like a lamb.
VIO. Key, sink to hell! still patient, patient still?
I am with child[143] to vex him. Prithee, George,
If e’er thou look’st for favour at my hands,
Uphold one jest for me.
GEO. Against my master?
VIO. ’Tis a mere jest, in faith: say, wilt thou do’t?
GEO. Well, what is’t?
VIO. Here, take this key; thou know’st where all
things lie;
Put on thy master’s best apparel, gown,
Chain, cap, ruff, every thing; be like himself;
And, 'gainst his coming home, walk in the shop;
Feign the same carriage and his patient look:
'Twill breed but a jest, thou know’st: speak, wilt thou?
GEO. 'Twill wrong my master’s patience.
VIO. Prithee, George——
GEO. Well, if you’ll save me harmless, and put me under
covert barn,[144] I am content to please you, provided
it may breed no wrong against him.
VIO. No wrong at all: here, take the key, be gone.
If any vex him, this; if not this, none. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_An outer Apartment in_ BELLAFRONT’S _House_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS FINGERLOCK _and_ ROGER.

MIS. F. O Roger, Roger, where’s your mistress, where’s
your mistress? there’s the finest, neatest gentleman at
my house, but newly come over: O where is she, where is
she, where is she?
ROG. My mistress is abroad, but not amongst 'em: my
mistress is not the whore now that you take her for.
MIS. F. How? is she not a whore? do you go about to take
away her good name, Roger? you are a fine pander indeed!
ROG. I tell you, madonna Fingerlock, I am not sad for
nothing; I ha’ not eaten one good meal this three and
thirty days: I had wont to get sixteen pence by fetching
a pottle of hippocras;[145] but now those days are past:
we had as good doings, madonna Fingerlock, she within
doors, and I without, as any poor young couple in Milan.
MIS. F. God’s my life, and is she changed now?
ROG. I ha’ lost by her squeamishness more than would
have builded twelve bawdy-houses.
MIS. F. And had she no time to turn honest but now? what
a vile woman is this! twenty pound a-night, I’ll be
sworn, Roger, in good gold and no silver: why, here was
a time! if she should ha’ picked out a time, it could
not be better: gold enough stirring; choice of men,
choice of hair, choice of beards, choice of legs, and
choice of every, every, every thing: it cannot sink into
my head that she should be such an ass; Roger, I never
believe it.

ROG. Here she comes now.

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT.
MIS. F. O sweet madonna, on with your loose gown,[146]
your felt,[147] and your feather! there’s the sweetest,
properest,[148] gallantest gentleman at my house; he
smells all of musk and ambergrise, his pocket full of
crowns, flame-coloured doublet, red satin hose,[149]
carnation silk stockings, and a leg and a body,—O!
BEL. Hence thou, our sex’s monster, poisonous bawd,
Lust’s factor and damnation’s orator,
Gossip of hell! Were all the harlots’ sins,
Which the whole world contains, number’d together,
Thine far exceeds them all: of all the creatures
That ever were created, thou art basest.
What serpent would beguile thee of thy office?
It is detestable; for thou livest
Upon the dregs of harlots, guard’st the door
Whilst couples go to dancing. O coarse devil!
Thou art the bastard’s curse, thou brand’st his birth;
The lecher’s French disease, for thou dry-suck’st him;
The harlot’s poison, and thine own confusion.
MIS. F. Marry come up, with a pox! have you nobody to
rail against but your bawd now?
BEL. And you, knave pander, kinsman to a bawd!
ROG. You and I, madonna, are cousins.
BEL. Of the same blood and making, near allied;
Thou that [art] slave to sixpence, base-metall’d
villain!
ROG. Sixpence? nay, that’s not so; I never took under
two shillings fourpence: I hope I know my fee.
BEL. I know not against which most to inveigh,
For both of you are damn’d so equally.
Thou never spar’st for oaths, swear’st any thing,
As if thy soul were made of shoe-leather:
_God damn me, gentleman, if she be within_!
When in the next room she’s found dallying.
ROG. If it be my vocation to swear, every man in his
vocation: I hope my betters swear, and damn themselves;
and why should not I?
BEL. Roger, you cheat kind gentlemen.
ROG. The more gulls they.
BEL. Slave, I cashier thee.
MIS. F. And[150] you do cashier him, he shall be
entertained.
ROG. Shall I? then blurt[151] a’ your service!
BEL. As hell would have it, entertain’d by you!
I dare the devil himself to match those two. [_Exit._
MIS. F. Marry gup, are you grown so holy, so pure, so
honest, with a pox?
ROG. Scurvy, honest punk! But stay, madonna, how must
our agreement be now? for, you know, I am to have all
the comings-in at the hall-door, and you at the
chamber-door.
MIS. F. True, Roger, except my vails.
ROG. Vails? what vails?
MIS. F. Why as thus: if a couple come in a coach, and
light to lie down a little, then, Roger, that’s my fee,
and you may walk abroad, for the coachman himself is
their pander.

ROG. Is 'a so? in truth, I have almost forgot, for want
of exercise. But how if I fetch this citizen’s wife to
that gull, and that madonna to that gallant, how then?
MIS. F. Why then, Roger, you are to have sixpence a
lane; so many lanes, so many sixpences.
ROG. Is’t so? then I see we two shall agree, and live
together.
MIS. F. Ay, Roger, so long as there be any taverns and
bawdy-houses in Milan.
[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Chamber in_ BELLAFRONT’S _House_.

BELLAFRONT discovered sitting, with a lute; pen, ink,
and paper on a table before her.

BEL. _The courtier’s flattering jewels,_ [_Sings._
_Temptation’s only fuels,
The lawyer’s ill-got moneys,
That suck up poor bees’ honeys,
The citizen’s son’s riot,
The gallant[’s] costly diet,
Silks and velvets, pearls and ambers,
Shall not draw me to their chambers.
Silks and velvets, &c._ [_She writes._
O ’tis in vain to write! it will not please.
Ink on this paper would ha’ but presented
The foul black spots that stick upon my soul,
And rather made[152] me loathsomer, than wrought
My love’s impression in Hippolito’s thought:
No, I must turn the chaste leaves of my breast,
And pick out some sweet means to breed my rest.
Hippolito, believe me, I will be
As true unto thy heart as thy heart to thee,
And hate all men, their gifts and company!

_Enter_ MATHEO, CASTRUCHIO, FLUELLO, _and_ PIORATTO.

MAT. You, goody punk, _subaudi_ cockatrice,[153] O
you’re a sweet whore of your promise, are you not, think
you? how well you came to supper to us last night! mew,
a whore, and break her word! nay, you may blush and hold
down your head at it well enough: ’sfoot, ask these
gallants if we stayed not till we were as hungry as
sergeants.
FLU. Ay, and their yeomen too.
CAS. Nay, faith, acquaintance, let me tell you, you
forgat yourself too much: we had excellent cheer, rare
vintage, and were drunk after supper.
PIO. And when we were in our woodcocks, sweet rogue, a
brace of gulls, dwelling here in the city, came in and
paid all the shot.
MAT. Pox on her! let her alone.
BEL. O, I pray, do, if you be gentlemen!
I pray, depart the house: beshrew the door
For being so easily entreated! faith,
I lent but little ear unto your talk;
My mind was busied otherwise, in troth,
And so your words did unregarded pass:
Let this suffice,—I am not as I was.
FLU. I am not what I was? no, I’ll be sworn thou art
not; for thou wert honest at five, and now thou’rt a
punk at fifteen; thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and
now thou’rt a cunning, cony-catching[154] baggage
to-day.
BEL. I’ll say I’m worse; I pray, forsake me then:
I do desire you leave me, gentlemen,
And leave yourselves: O be not what you are,
Spendthrifts of soul and body!
Let me persuade you to forsake all harlots,
Worse than the deadliest poisons; they are worse,
For o’er their souls hangs an eternal curse.
In being slaves to slaves, their labours perish;
They’re seldom blest with fruit, for ere it blossoms
Many a worm confounds it;
They have no issue but foul ugly ones,
That run along with them e’en to their graves,
For, ’stead of children, they breed rank diseases;
And all you gallants can bestow on them
Is that French infant, which ne’er acts, but speaks.
What shallow son and heir, then, foolish gallant[s],
Would waste all his inheritance to purchase
A filthy, loath’d disease, and pawn his body
To a dry evil? that usury’s worst of all,
When th’ interest will eat out the principal.
MAT. ’Sfoot, she gulls 'em the best! this is always her
fashion when she would be rid of any company that she
cares not for, to enjoy mine alone.
[_Aside._
FLU. What’s here? instructions, admonitions, and
caveats? come out, you scabbard of vengeance!
MAT. Fluello, spurn your hounds when they fist,[155] you
shall not spurn my punk, I can tell you: my blood is
vexed.
FLU. Pox a’ your blood! make it a quarrel.
MAT. You’re a slave! will that serve turn?
PIO.[156] ’Sblood, hold, hold!
CAS. Matheo, Fluello, for shame, put up!
MAT. Spurn my sweet varlet?
BEL. O how many thus,
Mov’d with a little folly, have let out
Their souls in brothel-houses! fell down and died
Just at their harlot’s foot, as 'twere in pride!
FLU. Matheo, we shall meet.
MAT. Ay, ay; any where saving at church; pray, take heed
we meet not there.
FLU. Adieu, damnation!
CAS. Cockatrice, farewell!
PIO. There’s more deceit in women than in hell.
[_Exeunt_ CASTRUCHIO, FLUELLO, _and_ PIORATTO.
MAT. Ha, ha, thou dost gull 'em so rarely, so naturally!
if I did not think thou hadst been in earnest! thou art
a sweet rogue for’t, i’faith.
BEL. Why are not you gone too, signor Matheo?
I pray, depart my house: you may believe me;
In troth, I have no part of harlot in me.
MAT. How’s this?
BEL. Indeed, I love you not, but hate you worse
Than any man, because you were the first
Gave money for my soul: you brake the ice,
Which after turn’d a puddle; I was led
By your temptation to be miserable.
I pray, seek out some other that will fall,
Or rather, I pray, seek out none at all.
MAT. Is’t possible to be impossible—an honest whore? I
have heard many honest wenches turn strumpets with a wet
finger:[157] but for a harlot to turn honest is one of
Hercules’ labours; it was more easy for him in one night
to make fifty queans, than to make one of them honest
again in fifty years. Come, I hope thou dost but jest.
BEL. ’Tis time to leave off jesting; I had almost
Jested away salvation: I shall love you,
If you will soon forsake me.
MAT. God be wi’ thee![158]
BEL. O, tempt no more women! shun their weighty curse!
Women at best are bad, make them not worse.
You gladly seek our sex’s overthrow,
But not to raise our states. For all your wrongs,
Will you vouchsafe me but due recompense,
To marry with me?
MAT. How, marry with a punk, a cockatrice, a harlot?
marry, foh; I’ll be burnt thorough the nose first.
BEL. Why, la, these are your oaths! you love to undo
us,
To put heaven from us, whilst our best hours waste;
You love to make us lewd, but never chaste.
MAT. I’ll hear no more of this, this ground upon,
Thou’rt damn’d for altering thy religion. [_Exit._
BEL. Thy lust and sin speak so much: go thou, my ruin,
The first fall my soul took! By my example,
I hope few maidens now will put their heads
Under men’s girdles: who least trusts is most wise:
Men’s oaths do cast a mist before our eyes.
My best of wit be ready! now I go
By some device to greet Hippolito. [_Exit._