Chapter XXVII: Act III: Scene I

_An apartment in_ LORD BEAUFORT’S _house_.

_Enter_ MISTRESS GEORGE CRESSINGHAM _disguised as a
page, and_ MISTRESS KNAVESBY.

MIS. G. CRES. You’re welcome, mistress, as I may
speak it,
But my lord will give’t a sweeter emphasis;
I'll give him knowledge of you. [_Going._
MIS. KNA. Good sir, stay,
Methinks it sounds sweetest upon your tongue;
I'll wish you to go no further for my welcome.
MIS. G. CRES. Mine! it seems you never heard good
music,
That commend a bagpipe: hear his harmony!
MIS. KNA. Nay, good now, let me borrow of your
patience,
I'll pay you again before I rise to-morrow:
If it please you[921]——
MIS. G. CRES. What would you, forsooth?
MIS. KNA. Your company, sir.
MIS. G. CRES. My attendance you should have, mistress,
but that my lord expects it, and ’tis his due.
MIS. KNA. And must be paid upon the hour? that’s too
strict; any time of the day will serve.
MIS. G. CRES. Alas, ’tis due every minute! and paid,
’tis due again, or else I forfeit my recognisance, the
cloth I wear of his.
MIS. KNA. Come, come; pay it double at another time, and
’twill be quitted; I have a little use of you.
MIS. G. CRES. Of me, forsooth? small use can be made of
me: if you have suit to my lord, none can speak better
for you than you may yourself.
MIS. KNA. O, but I am bashful.
MIS. G. CRES. So am I, in troth, mistress.
MIS. KNA. Now I remember me, I have a toy to deliver
your lord that’s yet unfinished, and you may further me:
pray you, your hands, while I unwind this skein of gold
from you; ’twill not detain you long.
[_Putting skein on_ MIS. G. CRESSINGHAM’S _hands_.
MIS. G. CRES. You wind me into your service prettily:
with all the haste you can, I beseech you.
MIS. KNA. If it tangle not, I shall soon have done.
MIS. G. CRES. No, it shall not tangle, if I can help it,
forsooth.
MIS. KNA. If it do, I can help it; fear not: this thing
of long length you shall see I can bring you to a
bottom.
MIS. G. CRES. I think so too; if it be not bottomless,
this length will reach it.
MIS. KNA. It becomes you finely; but I forewarn you,
and remember it, your enemy gain not this advantage of
you; you are his prisoner then; for, look you, you are
mine now, my captive manacled, I have your hands in
bondage.[922]
MIS. G. CRES. ’Tis a good lesson, mistress, and I am
perfect in it; another time I'll take out this, and
learn another: pray you, release me now.
MIS. KNA. I could kiss you now, spite of your teeth, if
it please me.
MIS. G. CRES. But you could not, for I could bite you
with the spite of my teeth, if it pleases me.
MIS. KNA. Well, I'll not tempt you so far, I shew it but
for rudiment.
MIS. G. CRES. When I go a-wooing, I'll think on’t again.
MIS. KNA. In such an hour I learnt it: say I should,
In recompence of your hands' courtesy,
Make you a fine wrist-favour of this gold,
With all the letters of your name emboss’d
On a soft tress of hair, which I shall cut
From mine own fillet, whose ends should meet and close
In a fast true-love knot, would you wear it
For my sake, sir?
MIS. G. CRES. I think not, truly, mistress;
My wrists have enough of this gold already;
Would they were rid on’t yet! pray you, have done;
In troth, I'm weary.
MIS. KNA. And what a virtue
Is here express’d in you, which had lain hid
But for this trial: weary of gold, sir?
O that the close engrossers of this treasure
Could be so free to put it off of hand!
What a new-mended world would here be!
It shews a generous condition[923] in you;
In sooth, I think I shall love you dearly for’t.
MIS. G. CRES. But if they were in prison, as I am,
They would be glad to buy their freedom with it.
MIS. KNA. Surely no; there are that, rather than
release
This dear companion, do lie in prison
With it, yes, and will die in prison too.
MIS. G. CRES. ’Twere pity but the hangman did
enfranchise both.

_Enter_ LORD BEAUFORT.

L. BEAU. Selenger, where are you?
MIS. G. CRES. E'en here, my lord.—Mistress, pray you, my
liberty; you hinder my duty to my lord.
L. BEAU. [_taking off his hat_] Nay, sir, one courtesy
shall serve us both
At this time; you are busy, I perceive;
When next your leisure[924] serves you, I'd employ you.
MIS. G. CRES. You must pardon me, my lord; you see I am
entangled here.—Mistress, I protest I'll break prison,
if you free me not: take you no notice?
MIS. KNA. O, cry your honour mercy!—You are now at
liberty, sir. [_Releasing her hands._
MIS. G. CRES. And I'm glad on’t; I'll ne’er give both my
hands at once again to a woman’s command; I'll put one
finger in a hole rather.
L. BEAU. Leave us.
MIS. G. CRES. Free leave have you, my lord, so I think
you may have.—Filthy beauty, what a white witch thou
art! [_Exit._
L. BEAU. Lady, you’re welcome.
MIS. KNA. I did believe[925] it from your page, my
lord.
L. BEAU. Your husband sent you to me?
MIS. KNA. He did, my lord;
With duty and commends unto your honour,
Beseeching you to use me very kindly,
By the same token your lordship gave him grant
Of a new lease of threescore pounds a-year,
Which he and his should forty years enjoy.
L. BEAU. The token’s true; and for your sake, lady,
’Tis likely to be better’d; not alone the lease,
But the fee-simple may be his and yours.
MIS. KNA. I have a suit unto your lordship too,
Only myself concerns.
L. BEAU. ’Twill be granted, sure,
Though it outvalue thy husband’s.
MIS. KNA. Nay, ’tis small charge;
Only your good will and good word, my lord.
L. BEAU. The first is thine confirm’d; the second,
then,
Cannot stay long behind.
MIS. KNA. I love your page, sir.
L. BEAU. Love him! for what?
MIS. KNA. O the great wisdoms that
Our grandsires had! do you ask me reason for’t?
I love him ’cause I like him, sir.
L. BEAU. My page!
MIS. KNA. In mine eye he is a most delicate youth,
But in my heart a thing that it would bleed for.
L. BEAU. Either your eye’s blinded or your remembrance
broken;
Call to mind wherefore you came hither, lady.
MIS. KNA. I do, my lord; for love; and I'm in
profoundly.
L. BEAU. You trifle, sure; do you long for unripe
fruit?
'Twill breed diseases in you.
MIS. KNA. Nothing but worms
In my belly, and there’s a seed to expel them;
In mellow, falling fruit I find no relish.
L. BEAU. ’Tis true the youngest vines yield[926] the
most clusters,
But the old ever the sweetest grapes.
MIS. KNA. I can taste of both, sir;
But with the old I am the soonest cloy’d,
The green keep still an edge on appetite.
L. BEAU. Sure you’re a common creature.
MIS. KNA. Did you doubt it?
Wherefore came I hither else? did you think
That honesty only had been immur’d for you,
And I should bring it as an offertory
Unto your shrine of lust? As ’twas, my lord,
’Twas meant to you, had not the slippery wheel
Of fancy[927] turn’d when I beheld your page;
Nay, had I seen another before him
In mine eyes better grace, he had been forestall’d;
But as it is—all my strength cannot help—
Beseech you, your good will and good word, my lord;
You may command him, sir; if not affection,
Yet his body; and I desire but that:
Do it, and I'll command myself your prostitute.
L. BEAU. You’re a base strumpet! I succeed my page!
MIS. KNA. O, that’s no wonder, my lord; the servant
oft
Tastes to his master of the daintiest dish
He brings to him: beseech you, my lord——
L. BEAU. You’re a bold mischief; and to make me your
spokesman,
Your procurer to my servant!
MIS. KNA. Do you shrink at that?
Why, you’ve done worse without the sense of ill,
With a full, free conscience of a libertine:
Judge your own sin;
Was it not worse, with a damn’d broking-fee
To corrupt a[928] husband, ’state him a pander
To his own wife, by virtue of a lease
Made to him and your bastard issue, could you get ’em?
What a degree of baseness call you this?
’Tis a poor sheep-steal[er] provok’d by want
Compar’d unto a capital traitor: the master
To his servant may be recompens’d, but the husband
To his wife never.
L. BEAU. Your husband shall smart for this. [_Exit._
MIS. KNA. Hang him, do! you have brought him to
deserve it;
Bring him to the punishment, there I'll join with you;
I loathe him to the gallows! hang your page too;
One mourning-gown shall serve for both of them.
This trick hath kept mine honesty secure;
Best soldiers use policy: the lion’s skin
Becomes the body not[929] when ’tis too great,
But then the fox’s may sit close and neat. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A Street._

_Enter_ SWEETBALL, FLESH-HOOK, _and_ COUNTERBUFF.

SWEET. Now, Flesh-hook, use thy talon, set upon his
right shoulder; thy sergeant, Counterbuff, at the left;
grasp in his jugulars; and then let me alone to tickle
his _diaphragma_.
FLESH. You are sure he has no protection, sir?
SWEET. A protection to cheat and cozen! there was never
any granted to that purpose.
FLESH. I grant you that too, sir; but that use has been
made of ’em.
COUN. Marry has there, sir; how could else so many
broken bankrupts play up and down by their creditors'
noses, and we dare not touch ’em?
SWEET. That’s another case, Counterbuff; there’s
privilege to cozen, but here cozenage went before, and
there’s no privilege for that: to him boldly, I will
spend all the scissors in my shop, but I'll have him
snapt.
COUN. Well, sir, if he come within the length of large
mace once, we’ll teach him to cozen.
SWEET. Marry, hang him! teach him no more cozenage, he’s
too perfect in’t already; go gingerly about it; lay your
mace on gingerly, and spice him soundly.
COUN. He’s at the tavern, you say?
SWEET. At the Man in the Moon, above stairs; so soon as
he comes down, and the bush[930] left at his back, Ralph
is the dog behind him; he watches to give us notice: be
ready then, my dear bloodhounds; you shall deliver him
to Newgate, from thence to the hangman: his body I will
beg of the sheriffs, for at the next lecture I am likely
to be the master of my anatomy; then will I vex every
vein about him; I will find where his disease of
cozenage lay, whether in the _vertebræ_ or in _os
coxendix_;[931] but I guess I shall find it descend from
_humore_, through the _thorax_, and lie just at his
fingers'-ends.

_Enter_ RALPH.
RAL. Be in readiness, for he’s coming this way, alone
too; stand to’t like gentlemen and yeomen: so soon as he
is in sight, I'll go fetch my master.
SWEET. I have had a conquassation in my _cerebrum_ ever
since the disaster, and now it takes me again; if it
turn to a megrim, I shall hardly abide the sight of him.
RAL. My action of defamation shall be clapt on him too;
I will make him appear to’t in the shape of a white
sheet, all embroidered over with _peccavis_: look about,
I'll go fetch my master. [_Exit._

_Enter_ FRANKLIN _junior_.

COUN. I arrest you, sir.
FRANK. JUN. _Ha! qui va là? que pensez-vous faire,
messieurs? me voulez-vous dérober? je n’ai point
d’argent; je suis un pauvre gentilhomme François._
SWEET. Whoop! pray you, sir, speak English; you did when
you bought cloth-of-gold at six _nihils_ a-yard, when
Ralph’s _præputium_ was exulcerated.
FRANK. JUN. _Que voulez-vous? me voulez-vous tuer? les
François ne sont point ennemis: voilà ma bourse; que
voulez-vous d’avantage?_
COUN. Is not your name Franklin, sir?
FRANK. JUN. _Je n’ai point de joyaux que cestui-ci, et
c’est à monsieur l’ambassadeur; il m’envoie à ses
affaires, et vous empêchez mon service._
COUN. Sir, we are mistaken, for ought I perceive.

_Enter_ WATER-CAMLET _with_ RALPH, _hastily_.

W.-CAM. So, so; you have caught him, that’s well.—How
do you, sir?
FRANK. JUN. _Vous semblez être un homme courtois, je
vous prie entendez mes affaires; il y a ici deux ou
trois canailles qui m’ont assiégé, un pauvre étranger,
qui ne leur ai fait nul mal; ni donné mauvaise parole,
ni tiré mon épée; l’un me prend par une épaule, et me
frappe deux livres pesant; l’autre me tire par le bras,
il parle je ne sais quoi: je leur ai donné ma bourse, et
s’ils ne me veulent point laisser aller, que ferai-je,
monsieur?_
W.-CAM.. This is a Frenchman, it seems, sirs.
COUN. We can find no other in him, sir; and what that is
we know not.
W.-CAM.. He’s very like the man we seek for, else my
lights go false.
SWEET. In your shop[932] they may, sir, but here they go
true; this is he.
RAL. The very same, sir; as sure as I am Ralph, this is
the rascal.
COUN. Sir, unless you will absolutely challenge him the
man, we dare not proceed further.
FLESH. I fear we are too far already.
W.-CAM.. I know not what to say to’t.

_Enter_ MARGARITA.

MAR. _Bon jour, bon jour, gentilhommes._
SWEET. How now? more news from France?
FRANK. JUN. _Cette femme ici est de mon pays.—Madame, je
vous prie leur dire mon pays; ils m’ont retargé,[933] je
ne sais pourquoi._
MAR. _Etes-vous de France, monsieur?_
FRANK. JUN. _Madame, vrai est, que je les ai trompés, et
suis arrêté, et n’ai nul moyen d'échapper qu’en
changeant mon langage: aidez-moi en cette affaire; je
vous connois bien, où vous tenez un bordeau; vous et les
votres en serez de mieux._
MAR. _Laissez faire à moi. Etes-vous de Lyons,
dites-vous?_
FRANK. JUN. _De Lyon, ma chère dame._
MAR. _Mon cousin! je suis bien aise de vous voir en
bonne disposition._ [_Re-enter_
FRANK. JUN. _Ma cousine!_
W.-CAM.. This is a Frenchman sure.
SWEET. If he be, ’tis the likest an Englishman that ever
I saw, all his dimensions, proportions; had I but the
dissecting of his heart, in _capsula cordis_ could I
find it now; for a Frenchman’s heart is more quassative
and subject to tremor than an Englishman’s.
W.-CAM.. Stay, we’ll further inquire of this
gentlewoman.—Mistress, if you have so much English to
help us with—as I think you have, for I have long seen
you about London—pray, tell us, and truly tell us, is
this gentleman a natural Frenchman or no?
MAR. Ey, begar, de Frenchman, born _à Lyons_, my cozin.
W.-CAM.. Your cousin? if he be not your cousin, he’s my
cousin, sure.
MAR. Ey connosh his _père_, what you call his fadre; he
sell _poissons_.
SWEET. Sell poisons? his father was a ’pothecary then.
MAR. No, no, _poissons_,—what you call fish, fish.
SWEET. O, he was a fishmonger.
MAR. _Oui, oui._
W.-CAM.. Well, well, we are mistaken, I see; pray you, so
tell him, and request him not to be offended; an honest
man may look like a knave, and be ne’er the worse for’t:
the error was in our eyes, and now we find it in his
tongue.
MAR. _J'essayerai encore une fois, monsieur cousin, pour
votre sauveté; allez-vous en; votre liberté est
suffisante: je gagnerai le reste pour mon devoir, et
vous aurez votre part à mon école; j’ai une fille qui
parle un peu François; elle conversera avec vous à la
Fleur-de-Lis en Turnbull Street.[934] Mon cousin, ayez
soin de vous-même, et trompez ces ignorans._
FRANK. JUN. _Cousin, pour l’amour de vous, et
principalement pour moi, je suis content de m’en aller:
je trouverai votre école; et si vos écoliers me sont
agréables, je tirerai à l'épée seule; et si d’aventure
je la rompe, je payerai dix sous; et pour ce vieux fol,
et ces deux canailles, ce poulain snip-snap, et l’autre
bonnet rond, je les verrai pendre premier que je les
vois._ [_Exit._
W.-CAM.. So, so, she has got him off, but I perceive much
anger in his countenance still.—And what says he, madam?
MAR. Moosh, moosh anger; but ey connosh heer lodging
shall cool him very well; dere is a kinswomans can moosh
allay heer heat and heer spleen; she shall do for my
saka, and he no trobla you.
W.-CAM.. [_giving money_] Look, there is earnest, but thy
reward’s behind; come to my shop, the Holy Lamb in
Lombard Street: thou hast one friend more than e’er thou
hadst.
MAR. Tank u, monsieur, shall visit u; ey make all
pacifie: _à votre service très humblement_,—tree, four,
five fool of u. [_Aside, and exit._
W.-CAM.. What’s to be done now?
COUN. To pay us for our pains, sir; and better reward
us, that we may be provided against further danger that
may come upon ’s for false imprisonment.
W.-CAM.. All goes false, I think. What do you, neighbour
Sweetball?
SWEET. I must phlebotomise, sir, but my almanac says the
sign is in Taurus; I dare not cut my own throat; but if
I find any precedent that ever barber hanged himself,
I'll be the second example.
RAL. This was your ill _luxinium_,[935] barber, to cause
all to be cheated.
COUN. What say you to us, sir?
W.-CAM.. Good friends, come to me at a calmer hour,
My sorrows lie in heaps upon me now:
What you have, keep; if further trouble follow,
I'll take it on me: I would be press’d to death.
COUN. Well, sir, for this time we’ll leave you.
SWEET. I will go with you, officers; I will walk with
you in the open street, though it be a scandal to me;
for now I have no care of my credit, a cacokenny[936] is
run all over me.
[_Exeunt._ SWEETBALL, FLESH-HOOK, _and_
COUNTERBUFF.
W.-CAM.. What shall we do now, Ralph?
RAL. Faith, I know not, sir: here comes George, it may
be he can tell you.
W.-CAM.. And there I look for more disaster still;
Yet George appears in a smiling countenance.

_Enter_ GEORGE.

Ralph, home to the shop; leave George and I together.
RAL. I am gone, sir. [_Exit._
W.-CAM.. Now, George, what better news eastward? all goes
ill t’other way.
GEO. I bring you the best news that ever came about your
ears in your life, sir.
W.-CAM.. Thou puttest me in good comfort, George.
GEO. My mistress, your wife, will never trouble you
more.
W.-CAM.. Ha! never trouble me more? of this, George, may
be made a sad construction; that phrase we sometimes use
when death makes the separation; I hope it is not so
with her, George?
GEO. No, sir, but she vows she’ll never come home again
to you; so you shall live quietly; and this I took to be
very good news, sir.
W.-CAM.. The worst that could be this, candied poison:
I love her, George, and I am bound to do so;
The tongue’s bitterness must not separate
United[937] souls: ’twere base and cowardly
For all to yield to the small tongue’s assault:
The whole building must not be taken down
For the repairing of a broken window.
GEO. Ay, but this is a principal, sir: the truth is, she
will be divorced, she says, and is labouring with her
cousin Knave—what do you call him? I have forgotten the
latter end of his name.
W.-CAM.. Knavesby, George.
GEO. Ay, Knave, or Knavesby, one I took it to be.
W.-CAM.. Why, neither rage nor envy can make a cause,
George.
GEO. Yes, sir; not only at your person, but she shoots
at your shop too; she says you vent ware that is not
warrantable, braided ware, and that you give not London
measure; women, you know, look for more than a bare
yard: and then you keep children in the name of your
own, which she suspects came not in at the right door.
W.-CAM.. She may as well suspect immaculate truth
To be curs’d falsehood.
GEO. Ay, but if she will, she will; she’s a woman, sir.
W.-CAM.. ’Tis most true, George: well, that shall be
redress’d;
My cousin Cressingham must yield me pardon,
The children shall home again, and thou shalt conduct
'em, George.
GEO. That done, I'll be bold to venture once more for
her recovery, since you cannot live at liberty, but
because you are a rich citizen, you will have your chain
about your neck: I think I have a device will bring you
together by th' ears again, and then look to ’em as well
as you can.
W.-CAM.. O George, ’mongst all my heavy troubles, this
Is the groaning weight; but restore my wife![938]
GEO. Although you ne’er lead hour of quiet life.
W.-CAM. I will endeavour ’t, George; I'll lend her
will
A power and rule to keep all hush’d and still:
Eat we all sweetmeats, we are soonest rotten.
GEO. A sentence! pity ’t should have been forgotten!
[_Exeunt._