Part 1 out of 3
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Charles Bidwell and PG Distributed
THE SCORNFUL LADY,
Persons Represented in the Play.
_Elder_ Loveless, _a Sutor to the Lady_.
_Young_ Loveless, _a Prodigal_.
Savil, _Steward to Elder_ Loveless.
Lady _and_ )
Martha, )_Two Sisters_.
Younglove, _or_ Abigal, _a waiting Gentlewoman_.
Welford, _a Sutor to the Lady_.
_Sir_ Roger, _Curate to the Lady_.
(Travailer ) _Hangers on to Young_ Loveless.
Morecraft, _an Usurer_.
_A Rich Widow_.
* * * * *
Actus primus. Scena prima.
* * * * *
_Enter the two_ Lovelesses, Savil _the Steward, and a Page_.
_Elder Love_. Brother, is your last hope past to mollifie _Morecrafts_
heart about your Morgage?
_Young Love_. Hopelesly past: I have presented the Usurer with a richer
draught than ever _Cleopatra_ swallowed; he hath suckt in ten thousand
pounds worth of my Land, more than he paid for at a gulp, without
_El. Lo_. I have as hard a task to perform in this house.
_Yo. Lo._ Faith mine was to make an Usurer honest, or to lose my Land.
_El. Lo._ And mine is to perswade a passionate woman, or to leave the
Land. Make the boat stay, I fear I shall begin my unfortunate journey this
night, though the darkness of the night and the roughness of the waters
might easily disswade an unwilling man.
_Savil._ Sir, your Fathers old friends hold it the sounder course for your
body and estate to stay at home and marry, and propagate and govern in our
Country, than to Travel and die without issue.
_El. Lo._ _Savil_, you shall gain the opinion of a better servant, in
seeking to execute, not alter my will, howsoever my intents succeed.
_Yo. Lo._ Yonder's Mistres _Younglove_, Brother, the grave rubber of your
_Enter Mistres_ Younglove _the waiting woman._
_El. Lo._ Mistres _Younglove_.
_Young._ Master _Loveless_, truly we thought your sails had been hoist: my
Mistres is perswaded you are Sea-sick ere this.
_El. Lo._ Loves she her ill taken up resolution so dearly? Didst thou move
her from me?
_Young_. By this light that shines, there's no removing her, if she get a
stiffe opinion by the end. I attempted her to day when they say a woman
can deny nothing.
_El. Lo_. What critical minute was that?
_Young_. When her smock was over her ears: but she was no more pliant than
if it hung about her heels.
_El. Lo_. I prethee deliver my service, and say, I desire to see the dear
cause of my banishment; and then for _France_.
_Young_. I'le do't: hark hither, is that your Brother?
_El. Lo_. Yes, have you lost your memory?
_Young_. As I live he's a pretty fellow. [_Exit._
_Yo. Lo_. O this is a sweet _Brache_.
_El. Lo_. Why she knows not you.
_Yo. Lo_. No, but she offered me once to know her: to this day she loves
youth of Eighteen; she heard a tale how _Cupid_ struck her in love with a
great Lord in the Tilt-yard, but he never saw her; yet she in kindness
would needs wear a Willow-garland at his Wedding. She lov'd all the
Players in the last Queens time once over: she was struck when they acted
Lovers, and forsook some when they plaid Murthers. She has nine
_Spur-royals_, and the servants say she hoards old gold; and she her self
pronounces angerly, that the Farmers eldest son, or her Mistres Husbands
Clerk shall be, that Marries her, shall make her a joynture of fourscore
pounds a year; she tells tales of the serving-men.
_El. Lo._ Enough, I know her Brother. I shall intreat you only to salute
my Mistres, and take leave, we'l part at the Stairs.
_Enter Lady and waiting women._
_Lady._ Now Sir, this first part of your will is performed: what's the
_El. Lo._ First, let me beg your notice for this Gentleman my Brother.
_Lady._ I shall take it as a favour done to me, though the Gentleman hath
received but an untimely grace from you, yet my charitable disposition
would have been ready to have done him freer courtesies as a stranger,
than upon those cold commendations.
_Yo. Lo._ Lady, my salutations crave acquaintance and leave at once.
_Lady._ Sir I hope you are the master of your own occasions.
[_Exit Yo. Lo. and Savil._
_El. Lo._ Would I were so. Mistris, for me to praise over again that
worth, which all the world, and you your self can see.
_Lady._ It's a cold room this, Servant.
_El. Lo._ Mistris.
_La._ What think you if I have a Chimney for't, out here?
_El. Lo._ Mistris, another in my place, that were not tyed to believe all
your actions just, would apprehend himself wrong'd: But I whose vertues
are constancy and obedience.
_La._ _Younglove_, make a good fire above to warm me after my servants
_El. Lo._ I have heard and seen your affability to be such, that the
servants you give wages to may speak.
_La._ 'Tis true, 'tis true; but they speak to th' purpose.
_El. Lo._ Mistris, your will leads my speeches from the purpose. But as a
_La._ A _Simile_ servant? This room was built for honest meaners, that
deliver themselves hastily and plainly, and are gone. Is this a time or
place for _Exordiums_, and _Similes_ and _Metaphors_? If you have ought to
say, break into't: my answers shall very reasonably meet you.
_El. Lo._ Mistris I came to see you.
_La._ That's happily dispatcht, the next.
_El. Lo._ To take leave of you.
_La._ To be gone?
_El. Lo._ Yes.
_La._ You need not have despair'd of that, nor have us'd so many
circumstances to win me to give you leave to perform my command; is there
_El. Lo._ Yes, I had a third had you been apt to hear it.
_La._ I? Never apter. Fast (good servant) fast.
_El. Lo._ 'Twas to intreat you to hear reason.
_La._ Most willingly, have you brought one can speak it?
_El. Lo._ Lastly, it is to kindle in that barren heart love and
_La._ You would stay at home?
_El. Lo._ Yes Lady.
_La._ Why you may, and doubtlesly will, when you have debated that your
commander is but your Mistris, a woman, a weak one, wildly overborn with
passions: but the thing by her commanded, is to see _Dovers_ dreadful
cliffe, passing in a poor Water-house; the dangers of the merciless
Channel 'twixt that and _Callis_, five long hours sail, with three poor
_El. Lo._ You wrong me.
_La._ Then to land dumb, unable to enquire for an English hoast, to remove
from City to City, by most chargeable Post-horse, like one that rode in
quest of his Mother tongue.
_El. Lo._ You wrong me much.
_La._ And all these (almost invincible labours) performed for your
Mistris, to be in danger to forsake her, and to put on new allegeance to
some _French_ Lady, who is content to change language with your laughter,
and after your whole year spent in Tennis and broken speech, to stand to
the hazard of being laught at, at your return, and have tales made on you
by the Chamber-maids.
_El. Lo._ You wrong me much.
_La._ Louder yet.
_El. Lo._ You know your least word is of force to make me seek out
dangers, move me not with toyes: but in this banishment, I must take leave
to say, you are unjust: was one kiss forc't from you in publick by me so
unpardonable? Why all the hours of day and night have seen us kiss.
_La._ 'Tis true, and so you told the company that heard me chide.
_Elder Lov._ Your own eyes were not dearer to you than I.
_Lady._ And so you told 'em.
_Elder Lo._ I did, yet no sign of disgrace need to have stain'd your
cheek: you your self knew your pure and simple heart to be most unspotted,
and free from the least baseness.
_Lady._ I did: But if a Maids heart doth but once think that she is
suspected, her own face will write her guilty.
_Elder Lo._ But where lay this disgrace? The world that knew us, knew our
resolutions well: And could it be hop'd that I should give away my
freedom; and venture a perpetual bondage with one I never kist? or could I
in strict wisdom take too much love upon me, from her that chose me for
_Lady._ Believe me; if my Wedding-smock were on,
Were the Gloves bought and given, the Licence come,
Were the Rosemary-branches dipt, and all
The Hipochrist and Cakes eat and drunk off,
Were these two armes incompast with the hands
Of Bachelors to lead me to the Church,
Were my feet in the door, were I _John_, said,
If _John_ should boast a favour done by me,
I would not wed that year: And you I hope,
When you have spent this year commodiously,
In atchieving Languages, will at your return
Acknowledge me more coy of parting with mine eyes,
Than such a friend: More talk I hold not now
If you dare go.
_Elder Lo._ I dare, you know: First let me kiss.
_Lady._ Farewel sweet Servant, your task perform'd,
On a new ground as a beginning Sutor,
I shall be apt to hear you.
_Elder Lo._ Farewel cruel Mistres. [_Exit_ Lady.
_Enter Young Loveless, and Savil._
_Young Lo._ Brother you'l hazard the losing your tide to _Gravesend_: you
have a long half mile by Land to _Greenewich_?
_Elder Lo._ I go: but Brother, what yet unheard of course to live, doth
your imagination flatter you with? Your ordinary means are devour'd.
_Young Lo._ Course? why Horse-coursing I think. Consume no time in this: I
have no Estate to be mended by meditation: he that busies himself about my
fortunes may properly be said to busie himself about nothing.
_Elder Lo._ Yet some course you must take, which for my satisfaction
resolve and open; if you will shape none, I must inform you that that man
but perswades himself he means to live, that imagines not the means.
_Young Lo._ Why live upon others, as others have lived upon me.
_Elder Lo._ I apprehend not that: you have fed others, and consequently
dispos'd of 'em: and the same measure must you expect from your
maintainers, which will be too heavy an alteration for you to bear.
_Young Lo._ Why I'le purse; if that raise me not, I'le bet at
Bowling-alleyes, or man Whores; I would fain live by others: but I'le live
whilst I am unhang'd, and after the thought's taken.
_Elder Love._ I see you are ty'd to no particular imploiment then?
_Young Lo._ Faith I may choose my course: they say nature brings forth
none but she provides for them: I'le try her liberality.
_Elder Lo._ Well, to keep your feet out of base and dangerous paths, I
have resolved you shall live as Master of my House. It shall be your care
_Savil_ to see him fed and cloathed, not according to his present Estate,
but to his birth and former fortunes.
_Young Lo._ If it be refer'd to him, if I be not found in Carnation
Jearsie-stockins, blew devils breeches, with the gards down, and my pocket
i'th' sleeves, I'le n'er look you i'th' face again.
_Sa._ A comelier wear I wuss it is than those dangling slops.
_Elder Lo._ To keep you readie to do him all service peaceably, and him to
command you reasonably, I leave these further directions in writing, which
at your best leasure together open and read.
_Enter_ Younglove _to them with a Jewell._
_Abig._ Sir, my Mistress commends her love to you in this token, and these
words; it is a Jewell (she sayes) which as a favour from her she would
request you to wear till your years travel be performed: which once
expired, she will hastily expect your happy return.
_Elder Lo._ Return my service with such thanks, as she may imagine the
heart of a suddenly over-joyed man would willingly utter, and you I hope I
shall with slender arguments perswade to wear this Diamond, that when my
Mistris shall through my long absence, and the approach of new Suitors,
offer to forget me; you may cast your eye down to your finger, and
remember and speak of me: She will hear thee better than those allied by
birth to her; as we see many men much swayed by the Grooms of their
Chambers, not that they have a greater part of their love or opinion on
them, than on others, but for that they know their secrets.
_Abi._ O' my credit I swear, I think 'twas made for me:
Fear no other Suitors.
_Elder Love._ I shall not need to teach you how to discredit their
beginning, you know how to take exception at their shirts at washing, or
to make the maids swear they found plasters in their beds.
_Abi._ I know, I know, and do not you fear the Suitors.
_Elder Lo._ Farewell, be mindfull, and be happie; the night calls me.
[_Exeunt omnes praeter Younglove._
_Abi._ The Gods of the Winds befriend you Sir; a constant and a liberal
Lover thou art, more such God send us.
_Wel._ Let'em not stand still, we have rid.
_Abi._ A suitor I know by his riding hard, I'le not be seen.
_Wel._ A prettie Hall this, no Servant in't? I would look freshly.
_Abi._ You have delivered your errand to me then: there's no danger in a
hansome young fellow: I'le shew my self.
_Wel._ Lady, may it please you to bestow upon a stranger the ordinary
grace of salutation: Are you the Lady of this house?
_Abi._ Sir, I am worthily proud to be a Servant of hers.
_Wel._ Lady, I should be as proud to be a Servant of yours, did not my so
late acquaintance make me despair.
_Abi._ Sir, it is not so hard to atchieve, but nature may bring it about.
_Wel._ For these comfortable words, I remain your glad Debtor. Is your
Lady at home?
_Abi._ She is no stragler Sir.
_Wel._ May her occasions admit me to speak with her?
_Abi._ If you come in the way of a Suitor, No.
_Wel._ I know your affable vertue will be moved to perswade her, that a
Gentleman benighted and strayed, offers to be bound to her for a nights
_Abi._ I will commend this message to her; but if you aim at her body, you
will be deluded: other women of the household of good carriage and
government; upon any of which if you can cast your affection, they will
perhaps be found as faithfull and not so coy. [_Exit_ Younglove.
_Wel._ What a skin full of lust is this? I thought I had come a wooing,
and I am the courted partie. This is right Court fashion: Men, Women, and
all woo, catch that catch may. If this soft hearted woman have infused any
of her tenderness into her Lady, there is hope she will be plyant. But
_Enter_ Sir Roger _the Curate._
_Roger._ Gad save you Sir. My Lady lets you know she desires to be
acquainted with your name, before she confer with you?
_Wel._ Sir, my name calls me _Welford_.
_Roger._ Sir, you are a Gentleman of a good name. I'le try his wit.
_Wel._ I will uphold it as good as any of my Ancestors had this two
hundred years Sir.
_Roger._ I knew a worshipfull and a Religious Gentleman of your name in
the Bishoprick of _Durham_. Call you him Cousen?
_Wel._ I am only allyed to his vertues Sir.
_Roger._ It is modestly said: I should carry the badge of your
Christianity with me too.
_Wel._ What's that, a Cross? there's a tester.
_Roger._ I mean the name which your God-fathers and God-mothers gave you
at the Font.
_Wel._ 'Tis _Harry_: but you cannot proceed orderly now in your Catechism:
for you have told me who gave me that name. Shall I beg your name?
_Wel._ What room fill you in this house?
_Roger._ More rooms than one.
_Wel._ The more the merrier: but may my boldness know, why your Lady hath
sent you to decypher my name?
_Roger._ Her own words were these: To know whether you were a formerly
denyed Suitor, disguised in this message: for I can assure you she
delights not in _Thalame_: _Hymen_ and she are at variance, I shall return
with much hast. [_Exit_ Roger.
_Wel._ And much speed Sir, I hope: certainly I am arrived amongst a Nation
of new found fools, on a Land where no Navigator has yet planted wit; if I
had foreseen it, I would have laded my breeches with bells, knives,
copper, and glasses, to trade with women for their virginities: yet I
fear, I should have betrayed my self to a needless charge then: here's the
walking night-cap again.
_Roger._ Sir, my Ladies pleasure is to see you: who hath commanded me to
acknowledge her sorrow, that you must take the pains to come up for so bad
_Wel._ I shall obey your Lady that sent it, and acknowledge you that
brought it to be your Arts Master.
_Rog._ I am but a Batchelor of Art, Sir; and I have the mending of all
under this roof, from my Lady on her down-bed, to the maid in the
_Wel._ A Cobler, Sir?
_Roger._ No Sir, I inculcate Divine Service within these Walls.
_Wel._ But the Inhabitants of this house do often imploy you on errands
without any scruple of Conscience.
_Rog._ Yes, I do take the air many mornings on foot, three or four miles
for eggs: but why move you that?
_Wel._ To know whether it might become your function to bid my man to
neglect his horse a little to attend on me.
_Roger._ Most properly Sir.
_Wel._ I pray you doe so then: the whilst I will attend your Lady. You
direct all this house in the true way?
_Roger._ I doe Sir.
_Wel._ And this door I hope conducts to your Lady?
_Rog._ Your understanding is ingenious. [_Ex. severally._
_Enter young_ Loveless _and_ Savil, _with a writing._
_Sa._ By your favour Sir, you shall pardon me?
_Yo. Lo._ I shall bear your favour Sir, cross me no more; I say they shall
_Savil._ Sir, you forget who I am?
_Yo. Lo._ Sir, I do not; thou art my Brothers Steward, his cast off
mill-money, his Kitchen Arithmetick.
_Sa._ Sir, I hope you will not make so little of me?
_Yo. Lo._ I make thee not so little as thou art: for indeed there goes no
more to the making of a Steward, but a fair _Imprimis_, and then a
reasonable _Item_ infus'd into him, and the thing is done.
_Sa._ Nay then you stir my duty, and I must tell you?
_Young Lo._ What wouldst thou tell me, how Hopps grow, or hold some rotten
discourse of Sheep, or when our Lady-day falls? Prethee farewel, and
entertain my friends, be drunk and burn thy Table-books: and my dear spark
of velvet, thou and I.
_Sa._ Good Sir remember?
_Young Lo._ I do remember thee a foolish fellow, one that did put his
trust in Almanacks, and Horse-fairs, and rose by Hony and Pot-butter.
Shall they come in yet?
_Sa_. Nay then I must unfold your Brothers pleasure, these be the lessons
Sir, he left behind him.
_Young Lo_. Prethee expound the first.
_Sa_. I leave to maintain my house three hundred pounds a year; and my
Brother to dispose of it.
_Young Lo_. Mark that my wicked Steward, and I dispose of it?
_Sav_. Whilest he bears himself like a Gentleman, and my credit falls not
in him. Mark that my good young Sir, mark that.
_Young Lo_. Nay, if it be no more I shall fulfil it, whilst my Legs will
carry me I'le bear my self Gentleman-like, but when I am drunk, let them
bear me that can. Forward dear Steward.
_Sav_. Next it is my will, that he be furnished (as my Brother) with
Attendance, Apparel, and the obedience of my people.
_Young Lo_. Steward this is as plain as your old Minikin-breeches. Your
wisdom will relent now, will it not? Be mollified or--you understand me
_Sav_. Next, that my Steward keep his place, and power, and bound my
Brother's wildness with his care.
_Young Lo_. I'le hear no more of this _Apocrypha_, bind it by it self
_Sav_. This is your Brothers will, and as I take it, he makes no mention
of such company as you would draw unto you. Captains of Gallyfoists, such
as in a clear day have seen _Callis_, fellows that have no more of God,
than their Oaths come to: they wear swords to reach fire at a Play, and
get there the oyl'd end of a Pipe, for their Guerdon: then the remnant of
your Regiment, are wealthy Tobacco-Marchants, that set up with one Ounce,
and break for three: together with a Forlorn hope of Poets, and all these
look like Carthusians, things without linnen: Are these fit company for my
_Young Lo_. I will either convert thee (O thou Pagan Steward) or presently
confound thee and thy reckonings, who's there? Call in the Gentlemen.
_Sav_. Good Sir.
_Young Lo_. Nay, you shall know both who I am, and where I am.
_Sav_. Are you my Masters Brother?
_Young Lo_. Are you the sage Master Steward, with a face like an old
_Enter his Comrades_, Captain, Traveller, &c.
_Sav_. Then God help us all I say.
_Young Lo_. I, and 'tis well said my old peer of _France_: welcome
Gentlemen, welcome Gentlemen; mine own dear Lads y'are richly welcome.
Know this old _Harry_ Groat.
_Cap_. Sir I will take your love.
_Sav_. Sir, you will take my Purse.
_Cap_. And study to continue it.
_Sav_. I do believe you.
_Trav_. Your honorable friend and Masters Brother, hath given you to us
for a worthy fellow, and so we hugg you Sir.
_Sav_. Has given himself into the hands of Varlets, not to be carv'd out.
Sir, are these the pieces?
_Young Lo_. They are the Morals of the Age, the vertues, men made of gold.
_Sav_. Of your gold you mean Sir.
_Young Lo_. This is a man of War, and cryes go on, and wears his colours.
_Sav_. In's nose.
_Young Lo_. In the fragrant field. This is a Traveller Sir, knows men and
manners, and has plow'd up the Sea so far till both the Poles have knockt,
has seen the Sun take Coach, and can distinguish the colour of his Horses,
and their kinds, and had a _Flanders_-Mare leapt there.
_Sav_. 'Tis much.
_Tra_. I have seen more Sir.
_Sav_. 'Tis even enough o' Conscience; sit down, and rest you, you are at
the end of the world already. Would you had as good a Living Sir, as this
fellow could lie you out of, he has a notable gift in't.
_Young Lo_. This ministers the smoak, and this the Muses.
_Sav_. And you the Cloaths, and Meat, and Money, you have a goodly
generation of 'em, pray let them multiply, your Brother's house is big
enough, and to say truth, h'as too much Land, hang it durt.
_Young Lo_. Why now thou art a loving stinkard. Fire off thy Annotations
and thy Rent-books, thou hast a weak brain _Savil_, and with the next long
Bill thou wilt run mad. Gentlemen, you are once more welcome to three
hundred pounds a year; we will be freely merry, shall we not?
_Capt_. Merry as mirth and wine, my lovely _Loveless_.
_Poet_. A serious look shall be a Jury to excommunicate any man from our
_Tra_. We will not talk wisely neither?
_Young Lo_. What think you Gentlemen by all this Revenue in Drink?
_Capt_. I am all for Drink.
_Tra_. I am dry till it be so.
_Poet_. He that will not cry Amen to this, let him live sober, seem wise,
and dye o'th' _Coram_.
_Young Lo_. It shall be so, we'l have it all in Drink, let Meat and
Lodging go, they are transitory, and shew men meerly mortal: then we'l
have Wenches, every one his Wench, and every week a fresh one: we'l keep
no powdered flesh: all these we have by warrant, under the title of things
necessary. Here upon this place I ground it, The obedience of my people,
and all necessaries: your opinions Gentlemen?
_Capt_. 'Tis plain and evident that he meant Wenches.
_Sav_. Good Sir let me expound it?
_Capt_. Here be as sound men, as your self Sir.
_Poet_. This do I hold to be the interpretation of it: In this word
Necessary, is concluded all that be helps to Man; Woman was made the
first, and therefore here the chiefest.
_Young Lo_. Believe me 'tis a learned one; and by these words, The
obedience of my people, you Steward being one, are bound to fetch us
_Capt_. He is, he is.
_Young Lo_. Steward, attend us for instructions.
_Sav_. But will you keep no house Sir?
_Young Lo_. Nothing but drink Sir, three hundred pounds in drink.
_Sav_. O miserable house, and miserable I that live to see it! Good Sir
keep some meat.
_Young Lo_. Get us good Whores, and for your part, I'le board you in an
Alehouse, you shall have Cheese and Onions.
_Sav_. What shall become of me, no Chimney smoaking? Well Prodigal, your
Brother will come home.
_Young Lo_. Come Lads, I'le warrant you for Wenches, three hundred pounds
_Actus Secundus_. _Scena Prima_.
_Enter Lady, _her Sister_ Martha, Welford, Younglove, _and others_.
_Lady_. Sir, now you see your bad lodging, I must bid you good night.
_Wel_. Lady if there be any want, 'tis in want of you.
_Lady_. A little sleep will ease that complement. Once more good night.
_Wel_. Once more dear Lady, and then all sweet nights.
_Lady_. Dear Sir be short and sweet then.
_Wel_. Shall the morrow prove better to me, shall I hope my sute happier
by this nights rest?
_Lady_. Is your sute so sickly that rest will help it? Pray ye let it rest
then till I call for it. Sir as a stranger you have had all my welcome:
but had I known your errand ere you came, your passage had been straiter.
Sir, good night.
_Welford_. So fair, and cruel, dear unkind good night. [_Exit_ Lady.
Nay Sir, you shall stay with me, I'le press your zeal so far.
_Roger_. O Lord Sir.
_Wel_. Do you love _Tobacco_?
_Rog_. Surely I love it, but it loves not me; yet with your reverence I'le
_Wel_. Pray light it Sir. How do you like it?
_Rog_. I promise you it is notable stinging geer indeed. It is wet Sir,
Lord how it brings down Rheum!
_Wel_. Handle it again Sir, you have a warm text of it.
_Rog_. Thanks ever promised for it. I promise you it is very powerful, and
by a Trope, spiritual; for certainly it moves in sundry places.
_Wel_. I, it does so Sir, and me especially to ask Sir, why you wear a
_Rog_. Assuredly I will speak the truth unto you: you shall understand
Sir, that my head is broken, and by whom; even by that visible beast the
_Wel_. The Butler? certainly he had all his drink about him when he did
it. Strike one of your grave Cassock? The offence Sir?
_Rog_. Reproving him at Tra-trip Sir, for swearing; you have the total
_Wel_. You told him when his rage was set a tilt, and so he crackt your
Canons. I hope he has not hurt your gentle reading: But shall we see these
Gentlewomen to night.
_Rog_. Have patience Sir until our fellow _Nicholas_ be deceast, that is,
asleep: for so the word is taken: to sleep to dye, to dye to sleep, a very
_Wel_. Cannot you cast another for the Gentlewomen?
_Rog_. Not till the man be in his bed, his grave: his grave, his bed: the
very same again Sir. Our Comick Poet gives the reason sweetly; _Plenus
rimarum est_, he is full of loope-holes, and will discover to our
_Wel_. Your comment Sir has made me understand you.
_Enter_ Martha _the_ Ladies _Sister_, _and_ Younglove, _to them with a
_Rog_. Sir be addrest, the graces do salute you with the full bowl of
plenty. Is our old enemy entomb'd?
_Abig_. He's safe.
_Rog_. And does he snore out supinely with the Poet?
_Mar_. No, he out-snores the Poet.
_Wel_. Gentlewoman, this courtesie shall bind a stranger to you, ever your
_Mar_. Sir, my Sisters strictness makes not us forget you are a stranger
and a Gentleman.
_Abig_. In sooth Sir, were I chang'd into my Lady, a Gentleman so well
indued with parts, should not be lost.
_Wel_. I thank you Gentlewoman, and rest bound to you. See how this foul
familiar chewes the Cud: From thee, and three and fifty good Love deliver
_Mar_. Will you sit down Sir, and take a spoon?
_Wel_. I take it kindly, Lady.
_Mar_. It is our best banquet Sir.
_Rog_. Shall we give thanks?
_Wel_. I have to the Gentlewomen already Sir.
_Mar_. Good Sir _Roger_, keep that breath to cool your part o'th' Posset,
you may chance have a scalding zeal else; and you will needs be doing,
pray tell your twenty to your self. Would you could like this Sir?
_Wel_. I would your Sister would like me as well Lady.
_Mar_. Sure Sir, she would not eat you: but banish that imagination; she's
only wedded to her self, lyes with her self, and loves her self; and for
another Husband than herself, he may knock at the gate, but ne're come in:
be wise Sir, she's a Woman, and a trouble, and has her many faults, the
least of which is, she cannot love you.
_Abig_. God pardon her, she'l do worse, would I were worthy his least
grief, Mistris _Martha_.
_Wel_. Now I must over-hear her.
_Mar_. Faith would thou hadst them all with all my heart; I do not think
they would make thee a day older.
_Abig_. Sir, will you put in deeper, 'tis the sweeter.
_Mar_. Well said old sayings.
_Wel_. She looks like one indeed. Gentlewoman you keep your word, your
sweet self has made the bottom sweeter.
_Abig_. Sir, I begin a frolick, dare you change Sir?
_Wel_. My self for you, so please you. That smile has turn'd my stomach:
this is right the old Embleme of the Moyle cropping of Thistles: Lord what
a hunting head she carries, sure she has been ridden with a Martingale.
Now love deliver me.
_Rog_. Do I dream, or do I wake? surely I know not: am I rub'd off? Is
this the way of all my morning Prayers? Oh _Roger_, thou art but grass,
and woman as a flower. Did I for this consume my quarters in Meditation,
Vowes, and wooed her in _Heroical Epistles_? Did I expound the Owl, and
undertook with labour and expence the recollection of those thousand
Pieces, consum'd in Cellars, and Tabacco-shops of that our honour'd
_Englishman Ni. Br._? Have I done this, and am I done thus too? I will end
with the wise man, and say; He that holds a Woman, has an Eel by the tail.
_Mar._ Sir 'tis so late, and our entertainment (meaning our Posset) by
this is grown so cold, that 'twere an unmannerly part longer to hold you
from your rest: let what the house has be at your command Sir.
_Wel._ Sweet rest be with you Lady; and to you what you desire too.
_Abig._ It should be some such good thing like your self then. [_Exeunt._
_Wel._ Heaven keep me from that curse, and all my issue. Good night
_Rog._ _Solamen Miseris socios habuisse Doloris_: but I alone.
_Wel._ Learned Sir, will you bid my man come to me? and requesting a
greater measure of your learning, good night, good Master _Roger_.
_Rog._ Good Sir, peace be with you. [_Exit_ Roger.
_Wel._ Adue dear _Domine_. Half a dozen such in a Kingdom would make a man
forswear confession: for who that had but half his wits about him, would
commit the Counsel of a serious sin to such a cruel Night-cap? Why how now
shall we have an Antick? [_Enter Servant._
Whose head do you carry upon your shoulders, that you jole it so against
the Post? Is't for your ease? Or have you seen the Celler? Where are my
_Ser._ Here Sir.
_Wel._ Where Sir? have you got the pot Verdugo? have you seen the Horses
_Ser._ Yes Sir.
_Wel._ Have they any meat?
_Ser._ Faith Sir, they have a kind of wholesome Rushes, Hay I cannot call
_Wel._ And no Provender?
_Ser._ Sir, so I take it.
_Wel._ You are merry Sir, and why so?
_Ser._ Faith Sir, here are no Oats to be got, unless you'l have 'em in
Porredge: the people are so mainly given to spoon-meat: yonder's a cast of
Coach-mares of the Gentlewomans, the strangest Cattel.
_Ser._ Why, they are transparent Sir, you may see through them: and such a
_Wel._ Come Sir, the truth of your discovery.
_Ser._ Sir, they are in tribes like Jewes: the Kitchin and the Dayrie make
one tribe, and have their faction and their fornication within themselves;
the Buttery and the Landry are another, and there's no love lost; the
chambers are intire, and what's done there, is somewhat higher than my
knowledge: but this I am sure, between these copulations, a stranger is
kept vertuous, that is, fasting. But of all this the drink Sir.
_Wel. _What of that Sir?
_Ser. _Faith Sir, I will handle it as the time and your patience will give
me leave. This drink, or this cooling Julip, of which three spoonfuls
kills the Calenture, a pint breeds the cold Palsie.
_Wel. _Sir, you bely the house.
_Ser. _I would I did Sir. But as I am a true man, if 'twere but one degree
colder, nothing but an Asses hoof would hold it.
_Wel. _I am glad on't Sir, for if it had proved stronger, you had been
tongue ti'd of these commendations. Light me the candle Sir, I'le hear no
_Enter young_ Loveless _and his _Comrades, _with wenches, and two
_Yo. Lo. _Come my brave man of war, trace out thy darling,
And you my learned Council, sit and turn boyes,
Kiss till the Cow come home, kiss close, kiss close knaves.
My Modern Poet, thou shalt kiss in couplets.
_Enter with_ Wine.
Strike up you merry varlets, and leave your peeping,
This is no pay for Fidlers.
_Capt._ O my dear boy, thy _Hercules,_ thy Captain
Makes thee his _Hylas,_ his delight, his solace.
Love thy brave man of war, and let thy bounty
Clap him in _Shamois_: Let there be deducted out of our main potation
Five Marks in hatchments to adorn this thigh,
Crampt with this rest of peace, and I will fight
_Yo. Lo._ Thou shalt hav't boy, and fly in Feather,
Lead on a March you Michers.
_Savill_. O my head, O my heart, what a noyse and change is here! would I
had been cold i'th' mouth before this day, and ne're have liv'd to see
this dissolution. He that lives within a mile of this place, had as good
sleep in the perpetual noyse of an Iron Mill. There's a dead Sea of drink
i'th' Seller, in which goodly vessels lye wrackt, and in the middle of
this deluge appear the tops of flagons and black jacks, like Churches
drown'd i'th' marshes.
_Yo. Lo._ What, art thou come? My sweet Sir _Amias_ welcome to _Troy_.
Come thou shalt kiss my _Helen_, and court her in a dance.
_Sav_. Good Sir consider?
_Yo. Lo_. Shall we consider Gentlemen? How say you?
_Capt_. Consider? that were a simple toy i'faith, consider? whose moral's
that? The man that cryes consider is our foe: let my steel know him.
_Young Lo_. Stay thy dead doing hand, he must not die yet: prethee be
calm my _Hector_.
_Capt_. Peasant slave, thou groom compos'd of grudgings, live and thank
this Gentleman, thou hadst seen _Pluto_ else. The next consider kills
_Trav_. Let him drink down his word again in a gallon of Sack.
_Poet_. 'Tis but a snuffe, make it two gallons, and let him doe it
kneeling in repentance.
_Savil_. Nay rather kill me, there's but a lay-man lost. Good Captain doe
_Young Lo_. Thou shalt drink Steward, drink and dance my Steward. Strike
him a horn-pipe squeakers, take thy striver, and pace her till she stew.
_Savil_. Sure Sir, I cannot dance with your Gentlewomen, they are too
light for me, pray break my head, and let me goe.
_Capt_. He shall dance, he shall dance.
_Young Lo_. He shall dance, and drink, and be drunk and dance, and be
drunk again, and shall see no meat in a year.
_Poet._ And three quarters?
_Young Lo._ And three quarters be it.
_Capt._ Who knocks there? let him in.
_Enter_ Elder Loveless _disguised._
_Savill._ Some to deliver me I hope.
_Elder Lo._ Gentlemen, God save you all, my business is to one Master
_Capt._ This is the Gentleman you mean; view him, and take his Inventorie,
he's a right one.
_Elder Lo._ He promises no less Sir.
_Young Lo._ Sir, your business?
_Elder Lo._ Sir, I should let you know, yet I am loth, yet I am sworn
to't, would some other tongue would speak it for me.
_Young Lo._ Out with it i' Gods name.
_Elder Lo._ All I desire Sir is, the patience and sufferance of a man, and
good Sir be not mov'd more.
_Young Lo._ Then a pottle of sack will doe, here's my hand, prethee thy
_Elder Lo._ Good Sir excuse me, and whatsoever you hear, think must have
been known unto you, and be your self discreet, and bear it nobly.
_Young Lo._ Prethee dispatch me.
_Elder Lo._ Your Brother's dead Sir.
_Young Lo._ Thou dost not mean dead drunk?
_Elder Lo._ No, no, dead and drown'd at sea Sir.
_Young Lo._ Art sure he's dead?
_Elder Lo._ Too sure Sir.
_Young Lo._ I but art thou very certainly sure of it?
_Elder Lo._ As sure Sir, as I tell it.
_Young Lo._ But art thou sure he came not up again?
_Elder Lo._ He may come up, but ne're to call you Brother.
_Young Lo._ But art sure he had water enough to drown him?
_Elder Lo._ Sure Sir, he wanted none.
_Young Lo._ I would not have him want, I lov'd him better; here I forgive
thee: and i'faith be plain, how do I bear it?
_Elder Lo._ Very wisely Sir.
_Young Lo_. Fill him some wine. Thou dost not see me mov'd, these
transitorie toyes ne're trouble me, he's in a better place, my friend I
know't. Some fellows would have cryed now, and have curst thee, and faln
out with their meat, and kept a pudder; but all this helps not, he was too
good for us, and let God keep him: there's the right use on't friend. Off
with thy drink, thou hast a spice of sorrow makes thee dry: fill him
another. _Savill_, your Master's dead, and who am I now _Savill_? Nay,
let's all bear it well, wipe _Savill_ wipe, tears are but thrown away: we
shall have wenches now, shall we not _Savill_?
_Savill_. Yes Sir.
_Young Lo_. And drink innumerable.
_Savil_. Yes forsooth.
_Young Lo_. And you'll strain curtsie and be drunk a little?
_Savil_. I would be glad, Sir, to doe my weak endeavour.
_Yo. Lo_. You may be brought in time to love a wench too.
_Savil_. In time the sturdie Oak Sir.
_Young Lo_. Some more wine for my friend there.
_Elder Lo_. I shall be drunk anon for my good news: but I have a loving
Brother, that's my comfort.
_Youn[g] Lo_. Here's to you Sir, this is the worst I wish you for your
news: and if I had another elder Brother, and say it were his chance to
feed Haddocks, I should be still the same you see me now, a poor contented
Gentleman. More wine for my friend there, he's dry again.
_Elder Lo_. I shall be if I follow this beginning. Well my dear Brother,
if I scape this drowning, 'tis your turn next to sink, you shall duck
twice before I help you. Sir I cannot drink more; pray let me have your
_Young Lo_. O Lord Sir, 'tis your modestie: more wine, give him a bigger
glass; hug him my Captain, thou shalt be my chief mourner.
_Capt_. And this my pennon: Sir, a full carouse to you, and to my Lord of
_Elder Lo_. I feel a buzzing in my brains, pray God they bear this out,
and I'le ne're trouble them so far again. Here's to you Sir.
_Young Lo_. To my dear Steward, down o' your knees you infidel, you Pagan;
be drunk and penitent.
_Savil._ Forgive me Sir, and I'le be any thing.
_Young Lo._ Then be a Baud, I'le have thee a brave Baud.
_Elder Lo._ Sir, I must take my leave of you, my business is so urgent.
_Young Lo._ Let's have a bridling cast before you go. Fill's a new stoupe.
_Elder Lo._ I dare not Sir, by no means.
_Young Lo._ Have you any mind to a wench? I would fain gratifie you for
the pains you took Sir.
_Elder Lo._ As little as to the t'other.
_Young Lo._ If you find any stirring do but say so.
_Elder Lo._ Sir, you are too bounteous, when I feel that itching, you
shall asswage it Sir, before another: this only and Farewell Sir. Your
Brother when the storm was most extream, told all about him, he left a
will which lies close behind a Chimney in the matted Chamber: and so as
well Sir, as you have made me able, I take my leave.
_Young Lo._ Let us imbrace him all: if you grow drie before you end your
business, pray take a baite here, I have a fresh hogshead for you.
_Savil._ You shall neither will nor chuse Sir. My Master is a wonderfull
fine Gentleman, has a fine state, a very fine state Sir, I am his Steward
Sir, and his man.
_Elder Lo._ Would you were your own sir, as I left you. Well I must cast
about, or all sinks.
_Savil._ Farewell Gentleman, Gentleman, Gentleman.
_Elder Lo._ What would you with me sir?
_Savil._ Farewell Gentleman.
_Elder Lo._ O sleep Sir, sleep. [_Exit_ Elder Lo.
_Young Lo._ Well boyes, you see what's faln, let's in and drink, and give
thanks for it.
_Capt._ Let's give thanks for it.
_Young Lo._ Drunk as I live.
_Savil._ Drunk as I live boyes.
_Young Lo._ Why, now thou art able to discharge thine office, and cast up
a reckoning of some weight; I will be knighted, for my state will bear it,
'tis sixteen hundred boyes: off with your husks, I'le skin you all in
_Capt._ O sweet _Loveless_!
_Savil._ All in Sattin? O sweet _Loveless_!
_Young Lo_. March in my noble Compeeres: and this my Countess shall be led
by two: and so proceed we to the Will.
_Enter_ Morecraft _the_ Usurer, _and_ Widow.
_Morec_. And Widow as I say be your own friend: your husband left you
wealthy, I and wise, continue so sweet duck, continue so. Take heed of
young smooth Varlets, younger Brothers: they are worms that will eat
through your bags: they are very Lightning, that with a flash or two will
melt your money, and never singe your purse-strings: they are Colts, wench
Colts, heady and dangerous, till we take 'em up, and make 'em fit for
Bonds: look upon me, I have had, and have yet matter of moment girle,
matter of moment; you may meet with a worse back, I'le not commend it.
_Wid_. Nor I neither Sir.
_Mor_. Yet thus far by your favour Widow, 'tis tuffe.
_Wid_. And therefore not for my dyet, for I love a tender one.
_Mor_. Sweet Widow leave your frumps, and be edified: you know my state, I
sell no Perspectives, Scarfs, Gloves, nor Hangers, nor put my trust in
Shoe-ties; and where your Husband in an age was rising by burnt figs,
dreg'd with meal and powdered sugar, saunders, and grains, wormeseed and
rotten Raisins, and such vile Tobacco, that made the footmen mangie; I in
a year have put up hundreds inclos'd, my Widow, those pleasant Meadows, by
a forfeit morgage: for which the poor Knight takes a lone chamber, owes
for his Ale, and dare not beat his Hostess: nay more--
_Wid_. Good Sir no more, what ere my Husband was, I know what I am, and if
you marry me, you must bear it bravely off Sir.
_Mor_. Not with the head, sweet Widow.
_Wid_. No sweet Sir, but with your shoulders: I must have you dub'd, for
under that I will not stoop a feather. My husband was a fellow lov'd to
toyle, fed ill, made gain his exercise, and so grew costive, which for
that I was his wife, I gave way to, and spun mine own smocks course, and
sir, so little: but let that pass, time, that wears all things out, wore
out this husband, who in penitence of such fruitless five years marriage,
left me great with his wealth, which if you'le be a worthie gossip to, be
knighted Sir. [_Enter_ Savil.
_Morec._ Now, Sir, from whom come you? whose man are you Sir?
_Savil_. Sir, I come from young Master _Loveless_.
_Mor_. Be silent Sir, I have no money, not a penny for you, he's sunk,
your Master's sunk, a perisht man Sir.
_Savil_. Indeed his Brother's sunk sir, God be with him, a perisht man
indeed, and drown'd at Sea.
_Morec_. How saidst thou, good my friend, his Brother drown'd?
_Savil_. Untimely sir, at Sea.
_Morec_. And thy young Master left sole Heir?
_Savil_. Yes Sir.
_Morec_. And he wants money?
_Sav_. Yes, and sent me to you, for he is now to be knighted.
_Mor_. Widow be wise, there's more Land coming, widow be very wise, and
give thanks for me widow.
_Widow_. Be you very wise, and be knighted, and then give thanks for me
_Savil_. What sayes your worship to this mony?
_Mor_. I say he may have mony if he please.
_Savil_. A thousand Sir?
_Mor_. A thousand Sir, provided any wise Sir, his Land lye for the
_Enter_ Young Loveless _and_ Comrades _to them._
_Savil_. He's here himself Sir, and can better tell you.
_Mor_. My notable dear friend, and worthy Master _Loveless_, and now right
worshipfull, all joy and welcom.
_Yo. Lo_. Thanks to my dear incloser Master _Morecraft_, prethee old Angel
gold, salute my family, I'le do as much for yours; this, and your own
desires, fair Gentlewoman.
_Wid_. And yours Sir, if you mean well; 'tis a hansome Gentleman.
_Young Lo_. Sirrah, my Brother's dead.
_Yo. Lo_. Dead, and by this time soust for Ember Week.
_Young Lo_. Drown'd, drown'd at sea man, by the next fresh Conger that
comes we shall hear more.
_Mor._ Now by my faith of my body it moves me much.
_Yo. Lo._ What, wilt thou be an Ass, and weep for the dead? why I thought
nothing but a general inundation would have mov'd thee, prethe be quiet,
he hath left his land behind him.
_Morecraft._ O has he so?
_Young Lo._ Yes faith, I thank him for't, I have all boy, hast any ready
_Morecraft._ Will you sell Sir?
_Young Lo._ No not out right good Gripe; marry, a morgage or such a slight
_More._ I have no mony, Sir, for Morgage; if you will sell, and all or
none, I'le work a new Mine for you.
_Sav._ Good Sir look before you, he'l work you out of all else: if you
sell all your Land, you have sold your Country, and then you must to Sea,
to seek your Brother, and there lye pickled in a Powdering tub, and break
your teeth with Biskets and hard Beef, that must have watering Sir: and
where's your 300 pounds a year in drink then? If you'l tun up the
Straights you may, for you have no calling for drink there, but with a
Canon, nor no scoring but on your Ships sides, and then if you scape with
life, and take a Faggot boat and a bottle of _Usquebaugh_, come home poor
men, like a tipe of Thames-street stinking of Pitch and Poor-John. I
cannot tell Sir, I would be loth to see it.
_Capt._ Steward, you are an Ass, a meazel'd mungril, and were it not again
the peace of my soveraign friend here, I would break your fore-casting
Coxcomb, dog I would even with my staffe of Office there. Thy Pen and
Inkhorn Noble boy, the God of gold here has fed thee well, take mony for
thy durt: hark and believe, thou art cold of constitution, thy eat
unhealthful, sell and be wise; we are three that will adorn thee, and live
according to thine own heart child; mirth shall be only ours, and only
ours shall be the black eyed beauties of the time. Mony makes men Eternal.
_Poet._ Do what you will, 'tis the noblest course, then you may live
without the charge of people, only we four will make a Family, I and an
Age that will beget new _Annals_, in which I'le write thy life my son of
pleasure, equal with _Nero_ and _Caligula_.
_Young Lo._ What men were they Captain?
_Capt_. Two roaring Boys of _Rome_, that made all split.
_Young Lo_. Come Sir, what dare you give?
_Sav_. You will not sell Sir?
_Young Lo_. Who told you so Sir?
_Sav_. Good Sir have a care.
_Young Lo_. Peace, or I'le tack your Tongue up to your Roof. What money?
_More_. Six thousand pound Sir.
_Capt_. Take it, h'as overbidden by the Sun: bind him to his bargain
_Young Lo_. Come strike me luck with earnest, and draw the writings.
_More_. There's a Gods peny for thee.
_Sav_. Sir for my old Masters sake let my Farm be excepted, if I become
his Tenant I am undone, my Children beggers, and my Wife God knows what:
consider me dear Sir.
_More_. I'le have all or none.
_Young Lo_. All in, all in: dispatch the writings. [_Exit with Com._
_Wid_. Go, thou art a pretty forehanded fellow, would thou wert wiser.
_Sav_. Now do I sensibly begin to feel my self a Rascal; would I could
teach a School, or beg, or lye well, I am utterly undone; now he that
taught thee to deceive and cousen, take thee to his mercy; so be it.
_More_. Come Widow come, never stand upon a Knight-hood, 'tis a meer paper
honour, and not proof enough for a Serjeant. Come, Come, I'le make thee--
_Wid_. To answer in short, 'tis this Sir. No Knight no Widow, if you make
me any thing, it must be a Lady, and so I take my leave.
_More_. Farewel sweet Widow, and think of it.
_Wid_. Sir, I do more than think of it, it makes me dream Sir. [_Ex._ Wid.
_More_. She's rich and sober, if this itch were from her: and say I be at
the charge to pay the Footmen, and the Trumpets, I and the Horsemen too,
and be a Knight, and she refuse me then; then am I hoist into the subsidy,
and so by consequence should prove a Coxcomb: I'le have a care of that.
Six thousand pound, and then the Land is mine, there's some refreshing
_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima_.
_Enter_ Abigal, _and drops her Glove._
_Abigal_. If he but follow me, as all my hopes tell me, he's man enough,
up goes my rest, and I know I shall draw him.
_Wel_. This is the strangest pampered piece of flesh towards fifty, that
ever frailty copt withal, what a trim _lennoy_ here she has put upon me;
these women are a proud kind of Cattel, and love this whorson doing so
directly, that they will not stick to make their very skins Bawdes to
their flesh. Here's Dogskin and Storax sufficient to kill a Hawk: what to
do with it, besides nailing it up amongst _Irish_ heads of Teere, to shew
the mightiness of her Palm, I know not: there she is. I must enter into
Dialogue. Lady you have lost your Glove.
_Abig_. Not Sir, if you have found it.
_Wel_. It was my meaning Lady to restore it.
_Abig_. 'Twill be uncivil in me to take back a favour, Fortune hath so
well bestowed Sir, pray wear it for me.
_Wel_. I had rather wear a Bell. But hark you Mistres, what hidden vertue
is there in this Glove, that you would have me wear it? Is't good against
sore eyes, or will it charm the Toothach? Or these red tops; being steept
in white wine soluble, wil't kill the Itch? Or has it so conceal'd a
providence to keep my hand from Bonds? If it have none of these and prove
no more but a bare Glove of half a Crown a pair, 'twill be but half a
courtesie, I wear two alwayes, faith let's draw cuts, one will do me no
_Abig_. The tenderness of his years keeps him as yet in ignorance, he's a
well moulded fellow, and I wonder his bloud should stir no higher; but
'tis his want of company: I must grow nearer to him.
_Enter_ Elder Loveless _disguised._
_Elder Lo_. God save you both.
_Abig_. And pardon you Sir; this is somewhat rude, how came you hither?
_Elder Lo_. Why through the doors, they are open.
_Wel_. What are you? And what business have you here?
_Elder Lo_. More I believe than you have.
_Abig_. Who would this fellow speak with? Art thou sober?
_Elder Lo_. Yes, I come not here to sleep.
_Wel_. Prethee what art thou?
_Elder Lo_. As much (gay man) as thou art, I am a Gentleman.
_Wel_. Art thou no more?
_Elder Lo_. Yes more than thou dar'st be; a Souldier.
_Abig_. Thou dost not come to quarrel?
_Elder Lo_. No, not with women; I come to speak here with a Gentlewoman.
_Abig_. Why, I am one.
_Elder Lo_. But not with one so gentle.
_Wel_. This is a fine fellow.
_Elder Lo_. Sir, I am not fine yet. I am but new come over, direct me with
your ticket to your Taylor, and then I shall be fine Sir. Lady if there be
a better of your Sex within this house, say I would see her.
_Abig_. Why am not I good enough for you Sir?
_Elder Lo_. Your way you'l be too good, pray end my business. This is
another Sutor, O frail Woman!
_Wel_. This fellow with his bluntness hopes to do more than the long sutes
of a thousand could; though he be sowre he's quick, I must not trust him.
Sir, this Lady is not to speak with you, she is more serious: you smell as
if you were new calkt; go and be hansome, and then you may sit with her
_El. Lo_. What are you Sir?
_Wel_. Guess by my outside.
_Elder Lo_. Then I take you Sir, for some new silken thing wean'd from the
Country, that shall (when you come to keep good company) be beaten into
better manners. Pray good proud Gentlewoman, help me to your Mistress.
_Abig_. How many lives hast thou, that thou talk'st thus rudely?
_Elder Lo_. But one, one, I am neither Cat nor Woman.
_Wel_. And will that one life, Sir, maintain you ever in such bold
_Elder Lo_. Yes, amongst a Nation of such men as you are, and be no worse
for wearing, shall I speak with this Lady?
_Abig_. No by my troth shall you not.
_Elder Lo_. I must stay here then?
_Wel_. That you shall not neither.
_Elder Lo_. Good fine thing tell me why?
_Wel_. Good angry thing I'le tell you:
This is no place for such companions,
Such lousie Gentlemen shall find their business
Better i'th' Suburbs, there your strong pitch perfume,
Mingled with lees of Ale, shall reek in fashion:
This is no Thames-street, Sir.
_Abig_. This Gentleman informs you truly:
Prethee be satisfied, and seek the Suburbs,
Good Captain, or what ever title else,
The Warlike Eele-boats have bestowed upon thee,
Go and reform thy self, prethee be sweeter,
And know my Lady speaks with no Swabbers.
_Elder Lo_. You cannot talk me out with your tradition
Of wit you pick from Plays, go to, I have found ye:
And for you, Sir, whose tender gentle blood
Runs in your Nose, and makes you snuff at all,
But three pil'd people, I do let you know,
He that begot your worships Sattin-sute,
Can make no men Sir: I will see this Lady,
And with the reverence of your silkenship,
In these old Ornaments.
_Wel_. You will not sure?
_Elder Lo_. Sure Sir I shall.
_Abig_. You would be beaten out?
_Elder Lo_. Indeed I would not, or if I would be beaten,
Pray who shall beat me? this good Gentleman
Looks as if he were o'th' peace.
_Wel_. Sir you shall see that: will you get you out?
_Elder Lo_. Yes, that, that shall correct your boys tongue.
Dare you fight, I will stay here still. [_They draw._
_Abig_. O their things are out, help, help for Gods sake,
Madam; Jesus they foin at one another.
Madam, why, who is within there?
_Lady_. Who breeds this rudeness?
_Wel._ This uncivil fellow;
He saies he comes from Sea, where I believe,
H'as purg'd away his manners.
_Lady._ Why what of him?
_Wel._ Why he will rudely without once God bless you,
Press to your privacies, and no denial
Must stand betwixt your person and his business;
I let go his ill Language.
_Lady._ Sir, have you business with me?
_Elder Lo._ Madam some I have,
But not so serious to pawn my life for't:
If you keep this quarter, and maintain about you
Such Knights o'th' _Sun_ as this is, to defie
Men of imployment to ye, you may live,
But in what fame?
_Lady._ Pray stay Sir, who has wrong'd you?
_Elder Lo._ Wrong me he cannot, though uncivilly
He flung his wild words at me: but to you
I think he did no honour, to deny
The hast I come withal, a passage to you,
Though I seem course.
_Lady._ Excuse me gentle Sir, 'twas from my knowledge,
And shall have no protection. And to you Sir,
You have shew'd more heat than wit, and from your self
Have borrowed power, I never gave you here,
To do these vile unmanly things: my house
Is no blind street to swagger in; and my favours
Not doting yet on your unknown deserts
So far, that I should make you Master of my business;
My credit yet stands fairer with the people
Than to be tried with swords; and they that come
To do me service, must not think to win me
With hazard of a murther; if your love
Consist in fury, carry it to the Camp:
And there in honour of some common Mistress,
Shorten your youth, I pray be better temper'd:
And give me leave a while Sir.
_Wel._ You must have it. [_Exit_ Welford.
_Lady._ Now Sir, your business?
_El. Lo._ First, I thank you for schooling this young fellow,
Whom his own follies, which he's prone enough
Daily to fall into, if you but frown,
Shall level him a way to his repentance:
Next, I should rail at you, but you are a Woman,
And anger's lost upon you.
_Lady._ Why at me Sir?
I never did you wrong, for to my knowledge
This is the first sight of you.
_Elder Lo._ You have done that,
I must confess I have the least curse in
Because the least acquaintance: But there be
(If there be honour in the minds of men)
Thousands when they shall know what I deliver,
(As all good men must share in't) will to shame
Blast your black memory.
_Lady._ How is this good Sir?
_Elder Lo._ 'Tis that, that if you have a soul will choak it:
Y'ave kill'd a Gentleman.
_Lady._ I kill'd a Gentleman!
_Elder Lo._ You and your cruelty have kill'd him Woman,
And such a man (let me be angry in't)
Whose least worth weighed above all womens vertues
That are; I spare you all to come too: guess him now?
_Lady._ I am so innocent I cannot Sir.
_Elder Lo_. Repent you mean, you are a perfect Woman,
And as the first was, made for mans undoing.
_Lady._ Sir, you have mist your way, I am not she.
_Elder Lo._ Would he had mist his way too, though he had
Wandered farther than Women are ill spoken of,
So he had mist this misery, you Lady.
_Lady._ How do you do, Sir?
_Elder Lo._ Well enough I hope.
While I can keep my self out from temptations.
_Lady._ Leap into this matter, whither would ye?
_Elder Lo._ You had a Servant that your peevishness
Injoined to Travel.
_Lady._ Such a one I have
Still, and shall be griev'd 'twere otherwise.
_El. Lo._ Then have your asking, and be griev'd he's dead;
How you will answer for his worth, I know not,
But this I am sure, either he, or you, or both
Were stark mad, else he might have liv'd
To have given a stronger testimony to th' world
Of what he might have been. He was a man
I knew but in his evening, ten Suns after,
Forc'd by a Tyrant storm our beaten Bark
Bulg'd under us; in which sad parting blow,
He call'd upon his Saint, but not for life,
On you unhappy Woman, and whilest all
Sought to preserve their Souls, he desperately
Imbrac'd a Wave, crying to all that saw it,
If any live, go to my Fate that forc'd me
To this untimely end, and make her happy:
His name was _Loveless_: And I scap't the storm,
And now you have my business.
_Lady._ 'Tis too much.
Would I had been that storm, he had not perisht.
If you'l rail now I will forgive you Sir.
Or if you'l call in more, if any more
Come from this ruine, I shall justly suffer
What they can say, I do confess my self
A guiltie cause in this. I would say more,
But grief is grown too great to be delivered.
_Elder Lo._ I like this well: these women are strange things.
'Tis somewhat of the latest now to weep,
You should have wept when he was going from you,
And chain'd him with those tears at home.
_La._ Would you had told me then so, these two arms had been his Sea.
_Elder Lo._ Trust me you move me much: but say he lived, these were
forgotten things again.
_Lady._ I, say you so? Sure I should know that voice: this is knavery.
I'le fit you for it. Were he living Sir, I would perswade you to be
charitable, I, and confess we are not all so ill as your opinion holds us.
O my friend, what penance shall I pull upon my fault, upon my most
unworthy self for this?
_Elder Lo._ Leave to love others, 'twas some jealousie
That turn'd him desperate.
_Lady._ I'le be with you straight: are you wrung there?
_Elder Lo._ This works amain upon her.
_Lady._ I do confess there is a Gentleman
Has born me long good will.
_Elder Lo._ I do not like that.
_Lady._ And vow'd a thousand services to me; to me, regardless of him: But
since Fate, that no power can withstand, has taken from me my first, and
best love, and to weep away my youth is a mere folly, I will shew you what
I determine sir: you shall know all: Call M. _Welford_ there: That
Gentleman I mean to make the model of my Fortunes, and in his chast
imbraces keep alive the memory of my lost lovely _Loveless_: he is
somewhat like him too.
_Elder Lo._ Then you can love.
_Lady._ Yes certainly Sir?
Though it please you to think me hard and cruel,
I hope I shall perswade you otherwise.
_Elder Lo._ I have made my self a fine fool.
_Wel._ Would you have spoke with me Madam?
_Lady._ Yes M. _Welford_, and I ask your pardon before this Gentleman for
being froward: this kiss, and henceforth more affection.
_Elder Lo._ So, 'tis better I were drown'd indeed.
_Wel._ This is a sudden passion, God hold it.
This fellow out of his fear sure has
Perswaded her. I'le give him a new suit on't.
_La._ A parting kiss, and good Sir, let me pray you
To wait me in the Gallerie.
_Wel._ I am in another world, Madam where you please. [_Exit_ Welford.
_Elder Lo._ I will to Sea, and 't shall goe hard but I'le be drown'd
_La._ Now Sir you see I am no such hard creature,
But time may win me.
_Elder Lo._ You have forgot your lost Love.
_La._ Alas Sir, what would you have me do? I cannot call him back again
with sorrow; I'le love this man as dearly, and beshrow me I'le keep him
far enough from Sea, and 'twas told me, now I remember me, by an old wise
woman, that my first Love should be drown'd, and see 'tis come about.
_Elder Lo._ I would she had told you your second should be hang'd too, and
let that come about: but this is very strange.
_La._ Faith Sir, consider all, and then I know you'le be of my mind: if
weeping would redeem him, I would weep still.
_Elder Lo._ But say that I were _Loveless_,
And scap'd the storm, how would you answer this?
_Lady._ Why for that Gentleman I would leave all the world.
_Elder Lo._ This young thing too?
_Lady._ That young thing too,
Or any young thing else: why, I would lose my state.
_Elder Lo._ Why then he lives still, I am he, your _Loveless_.
_Lady._ Alas I knew it Sir, and for that purpose prepared this Pageant:
get you to your task. And leave these Players tricks, or I shall leave
you, indeed I shall. Travel, or know me not.
_Elder Lo._ Will you then marry?
_Lady._ I will not promise, take your choice. Farewell.
_Elder Lo._ There is no other Purgatorie but a Woman.
I must doe something. [_Exit_ Loveless.
_Wel._ Mistress I am bold.
_Lady._ You are indeed.
_Wel._ You so overjoyed me Lady.
_Lady._ Take heed you surfeit not, pray fast and welcom.
_Wel._ By this light you love me extreamly.
_Lady._ By this, and to morrows light, I care not for you.
_Wel._ Come, come, you cannot hide it.
_Lady._ Indeed I can, where you shall never find it.
_Wel._ I like this mirth well Lady.
_Lady._ You shall have more on't.
_Wel._ I must kiss you.
_Lady._ No Sir.
_Wel._ Indeed I must.
_Lady._ What must be, must be; I'le take my leave, you have your parting
blow: I pray commend me to those few friends you have, that sent you
hither, and tell them when you travel next, 'twere fit you brought less
bravery with you, and more wit, you'le never get a wife else.
_Wel._ Are you in earnest?
_Lady._ Yes faith. Will you eat Sir, your horses will be readie straight,
you shall have a napkin laid in the butterie for ye.
_Wel._ Do not you love me then?
_Lady._ Yes, for that face.
_Wel._ It is a good one Ladie.
_Lady._ Yes, if it were not warpt, the fire in time may mend it.
_Wel._ Me thinks yours is none of the best Ladie.
_Lady._ No by my troth Sir; yet o' my conscience, You would make shift
_Wel._ Come pray no more of this.
_Lady._ I will not: Fare you well. Ho, who's within there? bring out the
Gentlemans horses, he's in haste; and set some cold meat on the Table.
_Wel._ I have too much of that I thank you Ladie: take your Chamber when
you please, there goes a black one with you Ladie.
_Lady._ Farewell young man. [_Exit_ Ladie.
_Wel._ You have made me one, Farewell: and may the curse of a great house
fall upon thee, I mean the Butler. The devil and all his works are in
these women, would all of my sex were of my mind, I would make 'em a new
Lent, and a long one, that flesh might be in more reverence with them.
_Enter Abigal to him._
_Abig._ I am sorry M. _Welford_.
_Wel._ So am I, that you are here.
_Abig._ How does my Ladie use you?
_Wel._ As I would use you, scurvilie.
_Abig._ I should have been more kind Sir.
_Wel._ I should have been undone then. Pray leave me, and look to your
sweet-meats; hark, your Ladie calls.
_Abig._ Sir, I shall borrow so much time without offence.
_Wel._ Y'are nothing but offence, for Gods love leave me.
_Abig._ 'Tis strange my Ladie should be such a tyrant?
_Wel._ To send you to me, 'Pray goe stitch, good doe, y'are more trouble
to me than a Term.
_Abig._ I do not know how my good will, if I said love I lied not, should
any way deserve this?
_Wel._ A thousand waies, a thousand waies; sweet creature let me depart in
_Abig._ What Creature Sir? I hope I am a woman.
_Wel._ A hundred I think by your noise.
_Abig._ Since you are angrie Sir, I am bold to tell you that I am a woman,
and a rib.
_Wel._ Of a roasted horse.
_Abig._ Conster me that?
_Wel._ A Dog can doe it better; Farwell Countess, and commend me to your
Ladie, tell her she's proud, and scurvie, and so I commit you both to your
_Abig._ Sweet Mr. _Welford_.
_Wel._ Avoid old Satanus: Go daub your ruines, your face looks fouler than
a storm: the Foot-man stayes for you in the Lobby Lady.
_Abig._ If you were a Gentleman, I should know it by your gentle
conditions: are these fit words to give a Gentlewoman?
_Wel._ As fit as they were made for ye: Sirrah, my horses. Farwell old
Adage, keep your nose warm, the Rheum will make it horn else--
_Abig._ The blessings of a Prodigal young heir be thy companions
_Welford_, marry come up my Gentleman, are your gums grown so tender they
cannot bite? A skittish Filly will be your fortune _Welford_, and fair
enough for such a packsaddle. And I doubt not (if my aim hold) to see her
made to amble to your hand. [_Exit Abigal._
_Enter_ Young Loveless, _and_ Comrades, Morecraft, Widow, Savil, _and the
_Captain._ Save thy brave shoulder, my young puissant Knight, and may thy
back Sword bite them to the bone that love thee not, thou art an errant
man, go on. The circumcis'd shall fall by thee. Let Land and labour fill
the man that tills, thy sword must be thy plough, and _Jove_ it speed.
_Mecha_ shall sweat, and _Mahomet_ shall fall, and thy dear name fill up
_Yo. L._ It shall Captain, I mean to be a Worthy.
_Cap._ One Worthy is too little, thou shalt be all.
_Mor._ Captain I shall deserve some of your love too.
_Capt._ Thou shalt have heart and hand too, noble _Morecraft_, if them
wilt lend me mony. I am a man of Garrison, be rul'd, and open to me those
infernal gates, whence none of thy evil Angels pass again, and I will
stile thee noble, nay _Don Diego_. I'le woo thy _Infanta_ for thee, and my
Knight shall feast her with high meats, and make her apt.
_Mor._ Pardon me Captain, y'are beside my meaning.
_Young Lo._ No Mr. _Morecraft_, 'tis the Captains meaning I should prepare
her for ye.
_Capt._ Or provok her. Speak my modern man, I say provoke her.
_Poet._ Captain, I say so too, or stir her to it. So say the Criticks.
_Young Lo._ But howsoever you expound it sir, she's very welcom, and this
shall serve for witness. And Widow, since y'are come so happily, you shall
deliver up the keyes, and free possession of this house, whilst I stand by
_Wid._ I had rather give it back again believe me, 'Tis a miserie to say
you had it. Take heed?
_Young Lo._ 'Tis past that Widow, come, sit down, some wine there, there
is a scurvie banquet if we had it. All this fair house is yours Sir
_Savil._ Yes Sir.
_Young Lo._ Are your keyes readie, I must ease your burden.
_Sav._ I am readie Sir to be undone, when you shall call me to't.
_Young Lo._ Come come, thou shalt live better.
_Sav._ I shall have less to doe, that's all, there's half a dozen of my
friends i'th' fields sunning against a bank, with half a breech among 'em,
I shall be with 'em shortly. The care and continuall vexation of being
rich, eat up this rascall. What shall become of my poor familie, they are
no sheep, and they must keep themselves.
_Young Lo._ Drink Master _Morecraft_, pray be merrie all:
Nay and you will not drink there's no societie,
Captain speak loud, and drink: widow, a word.
_Cap._ Expou[n]d her throughly Knight. Here God o' gold, here's to thy
fair possessions; Be a Baron and a bold one: leave off your tickling of
young heirs like Trouts, and let thy Chimnies smoke. Feed men of war, live
and be honest, and be saved yet.
_Mor._ I thank you worthie Captain for your counsel. You keep your
Chimnies smoking there, your nostrils, and when you can, you feed a man of
War, this makes you not a Baron, but a bare one: and how or when you shall
be saved, let the Clark o'th' companie (you have commanded) have a just
_Poet._ The man is much moved. Be not angrie Sir, but as the Poet sings,
let your displeasure be a short furie, and goe out. You have spoke home,
and bitterly, to me Sir. Captain take truce, the Miser is a tart and a
_Cap._ Poet, you feign perdie, the wit of this man lies in his fingers
ends, he must tell all; his tongue fills his mouth like a neats tongue,
and only serves to lick his hungrie chaps after a purchase: his brains and
brimstone are the devils diet to a fat usurers head: To her Knight, to
her: clap her aboard, and stow her. Where's the brave Steward?
_Savil._ Here's your poor friend, and _Savil_ Sir.
_Capt._ Away, th'art rich in ornaments of nature. First in thy face, thou
hast a serious face, a betting, bargaining, and saving face, a rich face,
pawn it to the Usurer; a face to kindle the compassion of the most
ignorant and frozen Justice.
_Savil._ 'Tis such I dare not shew it shortly sir.
_Capt._ Be blithe and bonny steward: Master _Morecraft_, Drink to this man
_Mor._ Here's e'ne to him.
_Savil._ The Devil guide it downward: would there were in't an acre of the
great broom field he bought, to sweep your durtie Conscience, or to choak
ye, 'tis all one to me, Usurer.
_Young Lo._ Consider what I told you, you are young, unapt for worldly
business: Is it fit one of such tenderness, so delicate, so contrarie to
things of care, should stir and break her better meditations, in the bare
brokage of a brace of Angels? or a new Kirtel, though it be Satten? eat by
the hope of surfeits, and lie down only in expectation of a morrow, that
may undo some easie hearted fool, or reach a widows curses? Let out mony,
whose use returns the principal? and get out of these troubles, a
consuming heir: For such a one must follow necessarily, you shall die
hated, if not old and miserable; and that possest wealth that you got with
pining, live to see tumbled to anothers hands, that is no more a kin to
you, than you to his couzenage.
_Widow._ Sir you speak well, would God that charity had first begun here.
_Young Lo._ 'Tis yet time. Be merrie, me thinks you want wine there,
there's more i'th' house. Captain, where rests the health?