THE SCORNFUL LADY
	By Francis Beaumont
	and John Fletcher
	Performed c. 1609-1610
	First Published 1616
	Persons Represented in the Play.
	Elder Loveless, a Suitor to the Lady.
	Young Loveless, a Prodigal, and brother to Elder
	Loveless.
	Savil, Steward to Elder Loveless.
	Lady, target of Elder Loveless’ suit.
	Martha, the Lady’s sister.
	Abigail Younglove, a waiting Gentlewoman of
	the Lady.
	Welford, a Suitor to the Lady.
	Sir Roger, Curate to the Lady.
	Hangers-on of Young Loveless:
	Captain.
	Traveller.
	Poet.
	Tobacco-man.
	Morecraft, an Usurer.
	Widow, a Rich Widow.
	Wenches, Fiddlers, Attendants.
	The Scene: London
	ACT I.
	SCENE I.
	A Room in Lady’s House.
	Enter the two Lovelesses, Savil the Steward, and a Page.
1	Elder. Brother, is your last hope past to mollify
2	Morecraft’s heart about your mortgage?
4	Young. Hopelessly past. I have presented the usurer
	with a richer draught than ever Cleopatra swallowed; he
6	hath sucked in ten thousand pounds worth of my land,
	more than he paid for, at a gulp, without trumpets.
8
	Elder. I have as hard a task to perform in this house.
10
	Young. Faith, mine was to make an usurer honest, or
12	to lose my land.
14	Elder. And mine is to persuade a passionate woman,
	or to leave the land. – Savil, make the boat stay.
16
	[Exit Page.]
18
	I fear I shall begin my unfortunate journey this night,
20	though the darkness of the night, and the roughness of
	the waters, might easily dissuade an unwilling man.
22
	Sav. Sir, your father’s old friends hold it the sounder
24	course for your body and estate to stay at home, and
	marry and propagate − and govern in your country −
26	than to travel for disease, and return following the court
	in a night-cap, and die without issue.
28
	Elder. Savil, you shall gain the opinion of a better
30	servant in seeking to execute, not alter, my will,
	howsoever my intents succeed.
32
	Young. Yonder's Mistress Younglove, brother, the
34	grave rubber of your mistress’ toes.
36	Enter Abigail Younglove, the waiting woman.
38	Elder. Mistress Younglove −
40	Abig. Master Loveless, truly we thought your sails
	had been hoist: my mistress is persuaded you are
42	sea-sick ere this.
44	Elder. Loves she her ill-taken-up resolution so
	dearly? Didst thou move her for me?
46
	Abig. By this light that shines, there's no removing
48	her, if she get a stiff opinion by the end. I attempted her
	to-day when they say a woman can deny nothing.
50
	Elder. What critical minute was that?
52
	Abig. When her smock was over her ears: but she
54	was no more pliant than if it hung about her heels.
56	Elder. I prithee, deliver my service, and say, I desire
	to see the dear cause of my banishment; and then
58	France.
60	Abig. I’ll do't. Hark hither; is that your brother?
62	Elder. Yes: have you lost your memory?
64	Abig. As I live, he's a pretty fellow.
66	[Exit Abigail.]
68	Young. Oh, this is a sweet brach!
70	Elder. Why she knows not you.
72	Young. No, but she offered me once to know her.
	To this day she loves youth of eighteen. She heard a tale
74	how Cupid struck her in love with a great lord in the
	Tilt-yard, but he never saw her; yet she in kindness,
76	would needs wear a willow-garland at his wedding. She
	loved all the players in the last queen’s time once over;
78	she was struck when they acted lovers, and forsook
	some when they played murtherers. She has nine
80	spur-royals, and the servants say she hoards old gold;
	and she herself pronounces angerly that the farmer’s
82	eldest son (or her mistress’ husband’s clerk that shall
	be) that marries her, shall make her a jointure of
84	fourscore pounds a year. She tells tales of the serving-
	men −
86
	Elder. Enough, I know her, brother. I shall entreat you
88	only to salute my mistress, and take leave: we’ll part
	at the stairs.
90
	Enter Lady and Abigail.
92
	Lady. Now, sir, this first part of your will is performed:
94	what's the rest?
96	Elder. First, let me beg your notice for this gentleman,
	my brother: I shall take it as a favour done to me.
98
	Lady. Though the gentleman hath received but an
100	untimely grace from you, yet my charitable disposition
	would have been ready to have done him freer
102	courtesies as a stranger, than upon those cold
	commendations.
104
	Young. Lady, my salutations crave acquaintance and
106	leave at once.
108	Lady. Sir, I hope you are the master of your own
	occasions.
110
	[Exit Younglove and Savil.]
112
	Elder. Would I were so! Mistress, for me to praise
114	over again that worth, which all the world and you
	yourself can see −
116
	Lady. It's a cold room this; servant.
118
	Elder. Mistress −
120
	Lady. What think you if I have a chimney for't, out
122	here?
124	Elder. Mistress, another in my place, that were not
	tied to believe all your actions just, would apprehend
126	himself wronged: but I, whose virtues are constancy
	and obedience −
128
	Lady. Younglove, make a good fire above, to warm me
130	after my servant’s exordiums.
132	Elder. I have heard and seen your affability to be
	such, that the servants you give wages to may speak.
134
	Lady. 'Tis true, 'tis true; but they speak to the purpose.
136
	Elder. Mistress, your will leads my speeches from the
138	purpose. But as a man −
140	Lady. A simile, servant? This room was built for honest
	meaners, that deliver themselves hastily and plainly,
142	and are gone. Is this a time or place for exordiums, and
	similes and metaphors? If you have aught to say, break
144	into 't: my answers shall very reasonably meet you.
146	Elder. Mistress, I came to see you.
148	Lady. That's happily dispatched; the next?
150	Elder. To take leave of you.
152	Lady. To be gone?
154	Elder. Yes.
156	Lady. You need not have despaired of that, nor have
	used so many circumstances to win me to give you
158	leave to perform my command; is there a third?
160	Elder. Yes, I had a third, had you been apt to hear it.
162	Lady. I! never apter. Fast, good servant, fast.
164	Elder. 'Twas to entreat you to hear reason.
166	Lady. Most willingly: have you brought one can speak
	it?
168
	Elder. Lastly, it is to kindle in that barren heart love
170	and forgiveness.
172	Lady. You would stay at home?
174	Elder. Yes, lady.
176	Lady. Why, you may, and doubtlessly will, when you
	have debated that your commander is but your mistress,
178	a woman, a weak one, wildly overborne with passions;
	but the thing by her commanded is, to see Dover’s
180	dreadful cliff; passing, in a poor water-house, the
	dangers of the merciless channel 'twixt that and Calais,
182	five long hours sail, with three poor weeks’ victuals.
184	Elder. You wrong me.
186	Lady. Then to land dumb, unable to enquire for an
	English host, to remove from city to city by most
188	chargeable post-horse, like one that rode in quest of his
	mother tongue.
190
	Elder. You wrong me much.
192
	Lady. And all these (almost invincible) labours
194	performed for your mistress, to be in danger to forsake
	her, and to put on new allegiance to some French
196	lady, who is content to change language with you for
	laughter; and after your whole year spent in tennis and
198	broken speech, to stand to the hazard of being laughed
	at, on your return, and have tales made on you by the
200	chamber-maids.
202	Elder. You wrong me much.
204	Lady. Louder yet.
206	Elder. You know your least word is of force to make
	me seek out dangers; move me not with toys. But in this
208	banishment, I must take leave to say you are unjust.
	Was one kiss forced from you in public by me so
210	unpardonable? Why, all the hours of day and night have
	seen us kiss.
212
	Lady. 'Tis true, and so you satisfied the company that
214	heard me chide.
216	Elder. Your own eyes were not dearer to you than I.
218	Lady. And so you told 'em.
220	Elder. I did, yet no sign of disgrace need to have
	stained your cheek: you yourself knew your pure and
222	simple heart to be most unspotted, and free from the
	least baseness.
224
	Lady. I did; But if a maid’s heart doth but once think
226	that she is suspected, her own face will write her guilty.
228	Elder. But where lay this disgrace? The world that
	knew us, knew our resolutions well: and could it be
230	hoped that I should give away my freedom, and venture
	a perpetual bondage with one I never kissed? or could I,
232	in strict wisdom, take too much love upon me from her
	that chose me for her husband?
234
	Lady. Believe me, if my wedding-smock were on;
236	Were the gloves bought and given, the license come;
	Were the rosemary-branches dipt, and all
238	The hippocras and cakes eat and drunk off;
	Were these two arms encompassed with the hands
240	Of bachelors, to lead me to the church;
	Were my feet in the door; were “I John” said;
242	If John should boast a favour done by me,
	I would not wed that year. And you, I hope,
244	When you have spent this year commodiously,
	In achieving languages, will, at your return,
246	Acknowledge me more coy of parting with mine eyes,
	Than such a friend. More talk I hold not now:
248	If you dare, go.
250	Elder. I dare, you know. First let me kiss.
252	Lady. Farewell sweet servant. Your task performed,
	On a new ground, as a beginning suitor,
254	I shall be apt to hear you.
256	Elder. Farewell cruèl mistress.
258	[Exeunt Lady and Abigail.]
260	Enter Young Loveless and Savil.
262	Young. Brother, you'll hazard the losing your tide
	to Gravesend; you have a long half mile by land to
264	Greenwich.
266	Elder. I go. But, brother, what yet-unheard-of course
	to live doth imagination flatter you with? your
268	ordinary means are devoured.
270	Young. Course! Why, horse-coursing, I think.
	Consume no time in this: I have no state to be mended
272	by meditation: he that busies himself about my fortunes
	may properly be said to busy himself about nothing.
274
	Elder. Yet some course you must take, which, for my
276	satisfaction, resolve and open; if you will shape none, I
	must inform you, that that man but persuades himself
278	he means to live, that imagines not the means.
280	Young. Why, live upon others, as others have lived
	upon me.
282
	Elder. I apprehend not that. You have fed others, and
284	consequently disposed of 'em; and the same measure
	must you expect from your maintainers, which will be
286	too heavy an alteration for you to bear.
288	Young. Why, I'll purse; if that raise me not, I’ll bet at
	bowling-alleys, or man whores; I would fain live by
290	others. But I’ll live whilst I am unhanged, and after the
	thought's taken.
292
	Elder. I see you are tied to no particular employment,
294	then!
296	Young. Faith, I may choose my course: they say
	Nature brings forth none but she provides for them;
298	I’ll try her liberality.
300	Elder. Well, to keep your feet out of base and
	dangerous paths, I have resolved you shall live as
302	master of my house. − It shall be your care, Savil, to
	see him fed and clothed, not according to his present
304	estate, but to his birth and former fortunes.
306	Young. If it be referred to him, if I be not found in
	carnation Jersey-stockings, blue devils’ breeches, with
308	three guards down, and my pocket i'th' sleeves, I’ll ne'er
	look you i'th' face again.
310
	Sav. A comelier wear, I wus, it is than those dangling
312	slops.
314	Elder. To keep you ready to do him all service
	peaceably, and him to command you reasonably, I leave
316	these further directions in writing, which at your best
	leisure, together open and read.
318
	Re-enter Abigail to them with a jewel.
320
	Abig. Sir, my mistress commends her love to you in
322	this token and these words: it is a jewel, she says,
	which, as a favour from her, she would request you to
324	wear till your year’s travel be performed; which, once
	expired, she will hastily expect your happy return.
326
	Elder. Return my service, with such thanks, as she
328	may imagine the heart of a suddenly over-joyed man
	would willingly utter: and you, I hope, I shall, with
330	slender arguments, persuade to wear this diamond; that
	when my mistress shall, through my long absence and
332	the approach of new suitors, offer to forget me, you
	may call your eye down to your finger, and remember
334	and speak of me. She will hear thee better than those
	allied by birth to her; as we see many men much
336	swayed by the grooms of their chambers, − not that
	they have a greater part of their love or opinion on them
338	as on others, but for that they know their secrets.
340	Abig. O' my credit, I swear I think 'twas made for me.
	Fear no other suitors.
342
	Elder. I shall not need to teach you how to discredit
344	their beginnings: you know how to take exception at
	their shirts at washing, or to make the maids swear they
346	found plasters in their beds.
348	Abig. I know, I know, and do not you fear the suitors.
350	Elder. Farewell; be mindful, and be happy; the night
	calls me.
352
	[Exeunt omnes praeter Abigail.]
354
	Abig. The gods of the winds befriend you, sir!
356	a constant and a liberal lover thou art: more such
	God send us.
358
	Enter Welford.
360
	Wel. [To servant without] Let 'em not stand still, we
362	have rid hard.
364	Abig. [Aside] A suitor, I know, by his riding hard: I’ll
	not be seen.
366
	Wel. A pretty hall this: no servant in't? I would look
368	freshly.
370	Abig. [Aside] You have delivered your errand to me,
	then: there's no danger in a handsome young fellow; I’ll
372	show myself. [Advances.]
374	Wel. Lady, may it please you to bestow upon a stranger
	the ordinary grace of salutation? are you the lady of this
376	house?
378	Abig. Sir, I am worthily proud to be a servant of hers.
380	Wel. Lady, I should be as proud to be a servant of
	yours, did not my so late acquaintance make me
382	despair.
384	Abig. Sir, it is not so hard to achieve, but nature may
	bring it about.
386
	Wel. For these comfortable words, I remain your glad
388	debtor. Is your lady at home?
390	Abig. She is no straggler, sir.
392	Wel. May her occasions admit me to speak with her?
394	Abig. If you come in the way of a suitor, no.
396	Wel. I know your affable virtue will be moved to
	persuade her, that a gentleman, benighted and strayed,
398	offers to be bound to her for a night’s lodging.
400	Abig. I will commend this message to her; but if you
	aim at her body, you will be deluded. Other women the
402	house holds, of good carriage and government; upon
	any of which if you can cast your affection, they will
404	perhaps be found as faithful, and not so coy.
406	[Exit.]
408	Wel. What a skin full of lust is this! I thought I had
	come a-wooing, and I am the courted party. This is
410	right court-fashion: men, women, and all, woo; catch
	that catch may. If this soft hearted woman have infused
412	any of her tenderness into her lady, there is hope she
	will be pliant. But who's here?
414
	Enter Sir Roger the Curate.
416
	Roger. God save you sir. My lady lets you know, she
418	desires to be acquainted with your name, before she
	confer with you.
420
	Wel. Sir, my name calls me Welford.
422
	Roger. Sir, you are a gentleman of a good name.
424	[Aside] I’ll try his wit.
426	Wel. I will uphold it as good as any of my ancestors
	had this two hundred years, sir.
428
	Roger. I knew a worshipful and a religious gentleman
430	of your name in the bishopric of Durham: call you him
	cousin?
432
	Wel. I am only allied to his virtues, sir.
434
	Roger. It is modestly said: I should carry the badge of
436	your Christianity with me too.
438	Wel. What's that, a cross? There's a tester.
440	Roger. I mean the name which your godfathers and
	godmothers gave you at the font.
442
	Wel. 'Tis Harry. But you cannot proceed orderly now
444	in your catechism; for you have told me who gave me
	that name. Shall I beg your name?
446
	Roger. Roger.
448
	Wel. What room fill you in this house?
450
	Roger. More rooms than one.
452
	Wel. The more the merrier. But may my boldness know
454	why your lady hath sent you to decipher my name?
456	Roger. Her own words were these: to know whether
	you were a formerly-denied suitor, disguised in this
458	message; for I can assure you she delights not
	in thalamo; Hymen and she are at variance. I shall
460	return with much haste.
462	[Exit.]
464	Wel. And much speed, sir, I hope. Certainly I am
	arrived amongst a nation of new-found fools, on a land
466	where no navigator has yet planted wit. If I had
	foreseen it, I would have laded my breeches with bells,
468	knives, copper, and glasses, to trade with the women
	for their virginities; yet, I fear, I should have betrayed
470	myself to a needless charge then. Here's the walking
	night-cap again.
472
	Re-enter Roger.
474
	Roger. Sir, my lady’s pleasure is to see you; who
476	hath commanded me to acknowledge her sorrow
	that you must take the pains to come up for so bad
478	entertainment.
480	Wel. I shall obey your lady that sent it, and
	acknowledge you that brought it to be your art’s master.
482
	Roger. I am but a bachelor of art, sir; and I have the
484	mending of all under this roof, from my lady on her
	down-bed to the maid in the pease-straw.
486
	Wel. A cobbler, sir?
488
	Roger. No, sir; I inculcate divine service within these
490	walls.
492	Wel. But the inhabitants of this house do often employ
	you on errands, without any scruple of conscience?
494
	Roger. Yes, I do take the air many mornings on foot,
496	three or four miles, for eggs. But why move you that?
498	Wel. To know whether it might become your function
	to bid my man to neglect his horse a little, to attend on
500	me.
502	Roger. Most properly, sir.
504	Wel. I pray you do so, then, and whilst I will attend
	your lady. You direct all this house in the true way?
506
	Roger. I do, sir.
508
	Wel. And this door, I hope, conducts to your lady?
510
	Roger. Your understanding is ingenious.
512
	[Exeunt severally.]
	ACT I, SCENE II.
	A Room in the House of the Elder Loveless.
	Enter Young Loveless and Savil, with a writing.
1	Sav. By your favour sir, you shall pardon me.
2
	Young. I shall beat your favour, sir. Cross me no more:
4	I say they shall come in.
6	Sav. Sir, you forget me, who I am.
8	Young. Sir, I do not; thou art my brother’s steward,
	his cast off mill-money, his kitchen arithmetic.
10
	Sav. Sir, I hope you will not make so little of me?
12
	Young. I make thee not so little as thou art: for
14	indeed there goes no more to the making of a steward
	but a fair imprimis, and then a reasonable item infused
16	into him, and the thing is done.
18	Sav. Nay, then, you stir my duty, and I must tell you −
20	Young. What wouldst thou tell me? how hops go?
	or hold some rotten discourse of sheep, or when
22	Lady-day falls? Prithee, fare well, and entertain my
	friends; be drunk and burn thy table-books: and my
24	dear spark of velvet, thou and I −
26	Sav. Good sir, remember.
28	Young. I do remember thee a foolish fellow; one that
	did put his trust in almanacs and horse-fairs, and rose
30	by honey and pot-butter. Shall they come in yet?
32	Sav. Nay, then, I must unfold your brother's pleasure.
	These be the lessons, sir, he left behind him.
34
	Young. Prithee, expound the first.
36
	Sav. [Reads] I leave, to keep my house, three
38	hundred pounds a-year, and my brother to dispose
	of it −
40
	Young. Mark that, my wicked steward, − and I
42	dispose of it.
44	Sav. [Reads] Whilst he bears himself like a
	gentleman, and my credit falls not in him. −
46	Mark that, my good young sir, mark that.
48	Young. Nay, if it be no more, I shall fulfill it: whilst
	my legs will carry me, I’ll bear myself gentleman-like,
50	but when I am drunk, let them bear me that can.
	Forward, dear steward.
52
	Sav. [Reads] Next, it is my will, that he be furnished,
54	as my brother, with attendance, apparel, and the
	obedience of my people.
56
	Young. Steward, this is as plain as your old minikin-
58	breeches. Your wisdom will relent now, will it not?
	Be mollified or − You understand me, sir. Proceed.
60
	Sav. [Reads] Next, that my steward keep his place
62	and power, and bound my brother's wildness with
	his care.
64
	Young. I’ll hear no more of this Apocrypha;
66	bind it by itself, steward.
68	Sav. This is your brother’s will; and, as I take it, he
	makes no mention of such company as you would draw
70	unto you, − captains of gally-foists, such as in a clear
	day have seen Calais; fellows that have no more of God
72	than their oaths come to; they wear swords to reach fire
	at a play, and get there the oiled end of a pipe for their
74	guerdon; then the remnant of your regiment are
	wealthy tobacco-merchants, that set up with one ounce,
76	and break for three; together with a forlorn hope of
	poets; and all these look like Carthusians, things
78	without linen. Are these fit company for my master’s
	brother?
80
	Young. I will either convert thee, oh, thou pagan steward!
82	Or presently confound thee and thy reckonings. −
	Who's there? Call in the gentlemen!
84
	Sav. Good sir!
86
	Young. Nay, you shall know both who I am, and
88	where I am.
90	Sav. Are you my master’s brother?
92	Young. Are you the sage master-steward, with a face
	like an old ephemerides?
94
	Enter Young's Comrades: Captain, Traveller,
96	Poet and Tobacco-Man.
98	Sav. Then God help all, I say!
100	Young. Ay, and 'tis well said, my old peer of France.
	– Welcome, gentlemen, welcome, gentlemen;
102	mine own dear lads, you're richly welcome. Know
	this old Harry-groat.
104
	Capt. Sir, I will take your love −
106
	Sav. [Aside] Sir, you will take my purse.
108
	Capt. And study to continue it.
110
	Sav. I do believe you.
112
	Trav. Your honorable friend and master's brother
114	Hath given you to us for a worthy fellow,
	And so we hug you sir.
116
	Sav. [Aside]
118	H’as given himself into the hands of varlets
	But to be carved out. − Sir, are these the pieces?
120
	Young. They are the morals of the age, the virtues,
122	Men made of gold.
124	Sav. [Aside] Of your gold, you mean, sir.
126	Young. This is a man of war, and cries “Go on,”
	And wears his colours −
128
	Sav. [Aside] In's nose.
130
	Young. In the fragrant field.
132	This is a traveller, sir, knows men and manners,
	And has plowed up the sea so far, till both
134	The poles have knocked; has seen the sun take coach,
	And can distinguish the colour of his horses,
136	And their kinds; and had a Flanders-mare leaped there.
138	Sav. 'Tis much.
140	Trav. I have seen more, sir.
142	Sav. 'Tis even enough, o' conscience. Sit down, and rest
	you: you are at the end of the world already. − Would
144	you had as good a living, sir, as this fellow could lie
	you out of! h’as a notable gift in't!
146
	Young. This ministers the smoke, and this the Muses.
148
	Sav. And you the cloths, and meat, and money. You
150	have a goodly generation of 'em; pray, let them
	multiply; your brother's house is big enough, and to
152	say truth, h'as too much land, − hang it, dirt!
154	Young. Why, now thou art a loving stinkard. Fire off
	thy annotations and thy rent-books; thou hast a weak
156	brain, Savil, and with the next long bill thou wilt run
	mad. − Gentlemen, you are once more welcome to three
158	hundred pounds a-year; we will be freely merry, shall
	we not?
160
	Capt. Merry as mirth and wine, my lovely Loveless.
162
	Poet. A serious look shall be a jury to excommunicate
164	any man from our company.
166	Trav. We will have nobody talk wisely neither.
168	Young. What think you, gentlemen, by all this revenue
	in drink?
170
	Capt. I am all for drink.
172
	Trav. I am dry till it be so.
174
	Poet. He that will not cry “amen” to this, let him live
176	sober, seem wise, and die o'th' corum.
178	Young. It shall be so, we'll have it all in drink:
	Let meat and lodging go; they are transitory,
180	And show men merely mortal.
	Then we'll have wenches, every one his wench,
182	And every week a fresh one, − we'll keep
	No powdered flesh. All these we have by warrant,
184	Under the title of “things necessary”;
	here upon this place I ground it, “the obedience of my
186	people, and all necessaries.” Your opinions gentlemen?
188	Capt. 'Tis plain and evident that he meant wenches.
190	Sav. Good sir, let me expound it.
192	Capt. Here be as sound men as yourself, sir.
194	Poet. This do I hold to be the interpretation of it: in this
	word “necessary” is concluded all that be helps to man;
196	woman was made the first, and therefore here the
	chiefest.
198
	Young. Believe me, 'tis a learned one; and by these
200	words, “the obedience of my people”, you, steward,
	being one, are bound to fetch us wenches.
202
	Capt. He is, he is.
204
	Young. Steward, attend us for instructions.
206
	Sav. But will you keep no house, sir?
208
	Young. Nothing but drink; three hundred pounds in drink.
210
	Sav. O miserable house, and miserable I
212	That live to see it! Good sir, keep some meat.
214	Young. Get us good whores, and for your part, I’ll board you
	In an alehouse! you shall have cheese and onions.
216
	Sav. [Aside]
218	What shall become of me, no chimney smoking?
	Well, prodigal, your brother will come home.
220
	[Exit.]
222
	Young. Come lads, I’ll warrant you for wenches.
224	Three hundred pounds in drink.
226	[Exeunt omnes.]
	ACT II.
	SCENE I.
	A Bed-Chamber in Lady's House.
	Enter Lady, Welford, Sir Roger.
1	Lady. Sir, now you see your bad lodging, I must bid
2	you good night.
4	Wel. Lady, if there be any want, 'tis in want of you.
6	Lady. A little sleep will ease that complement.
	Once more, good night.
8
	Wel. Once more, dear lady, and then all sweet nights.
10
	Lady. Dear sir, be short and sweet, then.
12
	Wel. Shall the morrow
14	Prove better to me? shall I hope my suit
	Happier by this night’s rest?
16
	Lady. Is your suit so sickly, that rest will help it?
18	Pray ye, let it rest, then, till I call for it.
	Sir, as a stranger, you have had all my welcome;
20	But had I known your errand ere you came,
	Your passage had been straiter. Sir, good night.
22
	Wel. So fair and cruèl! Dear unkind, good night. −
24
	[Exit Lady.]
26
	Nay, sir, you shall stay with me; I’ll press your zeal
28	So far.
30	Roger. O, Lord, sir!
32	Wel. Do you love tobacco?
34	Roger. Surely I love it, but it loves not me;
	Yet with your reverence, I will be bold.
36
	Wel. Pray, light it, sir. How do you like it?
38
	[They smoke.]
40
	Rog. I promise you, it is notable stinging gear indeed.
42	It is wet, sir; Lord, how it brings down rheum!
44	Wel. Handle it again, sir; you have a warm text of it.
46	Roger. Thanks ever premised for it. I promise you,
	It is very powerful, and, by a trope, spiritual;
48	For certainly it moves in sundry places.
50	Wel. Ay, it does so, sir, and me, especially,
	To ask, sir, why you wear a night-cap?
52
	Roger. Assuredly I will speak the truth unto you.
54	You shall understand, sir, that my head is broken;
	And by whom? even by that visible beast,
56	The butler.
58	Wel. The butler? Certainly
	He had all his drink about him when he did it.
60	Strike one of your grave cassock! the offence, sir?
62	Roger. Reproving him at tray-trip, sir, for swearing.
	You have the total, surely.
64
	Wel. You tolled him when his rage was set a-tilt,
66	And so he cracked your canons. I hope he has
	Not hurt your gentle reading. But shall we see
68	These gentlewomen to-night?
70	Roger. Have patience, sir,
	Until our fellow Nicholas be deceased,
72	That is, asleep: for so the word is taken:
	“To sleep, to die; to die, to sleep;” a very figure, sir.
74
	Wel. Cannot you cast another for the gentlewomen?
76
	Roger. Not till the man be in his bed, his grave:
78	His grave, his bed: the very same again, sir.
	Our comic poet gives the reason sweetly;
80	Plenus rimarum est; he is full of loopholes,
	and will discover to our patroness.
82
	Wel. Your comment, sir, has made me understand you.
84
	Enter Martha (the Lady’s sister)
86	and Abigail to them with a posset.
88	Roger. Sir, be addressed; the Graces do salute you
	With the full bowl of plenty. −
90	Is our old enemy entombed?
92	Abig. He's fast.
94	Roger. And does he snore out supinely with the poet?
96	Mar. No, he out-snores the poet.
98	Wel. Gentlewoman, this courtesy
	Shall bind a stranger to you, ever your servant.
100
	Mar. Sir, my sister's strictness makes not us forget
102	You are a stranger and a gentleman.
104	Abig. In sooth, sir, were I changed into my lady,
	A gentleman so well endued with parts
106	Should not be lost.
108	Wel. I thank you, gentlewoman,
	And rest bound to you. −
110	[Aside] See how this foul familiar chews the cud!
	From thee and three-and-fifty good Love deliver me!
112
	Mar. Will you sit down, sir, and take a spoon?
114
	Wel. I take it kindly, lady.
116
	Mar. It is our best banquet, sir.
118
	Roger. Shall we give thanks?
120
	Wel. I have to the gentlewomen already, sir.
122
	Mar. Good Sir Roger, keep that breath to cool your
124	part o' the posset; you may chance have a scalding zeal
	else: an you will needs be doing, pray, tell your twenty
126	to yourself. − Would you could like this, sir!
128	Wel. I would your sister would like me as well, lady!
130	Mar. Sure, sir, she would not eat you. But banish that
	Imaginatiön: she's only wedded
132	To herself, lies with herself, and loves herself;
	And for another husband than herself,
134	He may knock at the gate, but ne'er come in.
	Be wise, sir: she's a woman, and a trouble,
136	And has her many faults, the least of which is,
	She cannot love you.
138
	Abig. God pardon her! she'll do worse.
140	Would I were worthy his least grief, Mistress Martha!
142	Wel. [Aside] Now I must over-hear her.
144	Mar. Faith, would thou hadst them all, with all my heart!
	I do not think they would make thee a day older.
146
	Abig. Sir, will you put in deeper? 'tis the sweeter.
148
	Mar. Well said, Old-sayings.
150
	Wel. [Aside] She looks like one indeed. −
152	Gentlewoman, you keep your word: your sweet self
	Has made the bottom sweeter.
154
	Abig. Sir, I begin a frolic: dare you change, sir?
156
	Wel. Myself for you, so please you. −
158	[Aside]
	That smile has turned my stomach. This is right,
160	The old emblem of the moyle cropping of thistles.
	Lord, what a hunting head she carries! sure,
162	She has been ridden with a martingale.
	Now, Love, deliver me!
164
	Roger. [Aside]
166	Do I dream, or do I wake? surely I know not.
	Am I rubbed off? is this the way of all
168	My morning prayers? Oh, Roger, thou art but grass,
	And woman as a flower! Did I for this
170	Consume my quarters in meditation[s], vows,
	And wooed her in Heroical Epistles?
172	Did I expound The Owl?
	And undertook, with labour and expense,
174	The re-collection of those thousand pieces,
	Consumed in cellars and tobacco-shops,
176	Of that our honoured Englishman, Nick Breton?
	Have I done thus, and am done thus to?
178	I will end with the wise man, and say,
	"He that holds a woman has an eel by the tail."
180
	Mar. Sir, 'tis so late, and our entertainment (meaning
182	our posset) by this is grown so cold, that 'twere an
	unmannerly part longer to hold you from your rest. Let
184	what the house has be at your command, sir.
186	Wel. Sweet rest be with you, lady: − and to you
	What you desire too.
188
	Abig. It should be some such good thing like yourself, then.
190
	[Exeunt Martha and Abigail.]
192
	Wel. Heaven keep me from that curse, and all my issue!
194	Good night, Antiquity.
196	Roger. [Aside] Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris:
	But I alone −
198
	Wel. Learned sir, will you bid my man come to me?
200	and, requesting a greater measure of your learning,
	good-night, good Master Roger.
202
	Roger. Good sir, peace be with you!
204
	Wel. Adieu, dear Domine.
206
	[Exit Roger.]
208
	Half a dozen such
210	In a kingdom would make a man forswear confession;
	For who, that had but half his wits about him,
212	Would commit the counsel of a serious sin
	To such a crewel night-cap? −
214
	Enter Welford's Servant, drunk.
216
	Why, how now?
218	Shall we have an antic? Whose head do you carry
	Upon your shoulders that you jowl it so
220	Against the post? is't for your ease, or have
	You seen the cellar? where are my slippers, sir?
222
	Serv. Here, sir.
224
	Wel. Where, sir? have you got the pot-verdugo?
226	Have you seen the horses, sir?
228	Serv. Yes, sir.
230	Wel. Have they any meat?
232	Serv. Faith, sir, they have a kind of wholesome rushes;
	hay I cannot call it.
234
	Wel. And no provender?
236
	Serv. Sir, so I take it.
238
	Wel. You are merry, sir; and why so?
240
	Serv. Faith, sir, here are no oats to be got, unless you'll
242	have 'em in porridge; the people are so mainly given to
	spoon-meat. Yonder’s a cast of coach-mares of the
244	gentlewoman's, the strangest cattle!
246	Wel. Why?
248	Serv. Why, they are transparent, sir; you may see
	through them: and such a house!
250
	Wel. Come, sir, the truth of your discovery.
252
	Serv. Sir, they are in tribes, like Jews: the kitchen and
254	the dairy make one tribe, and have their faction and
	their fornication within themselves; the buttery and the
256	laundry are another, and there's no love lost; the
	chambers are entire, and what's done there is somewhat
258	higher than my knowledge; but this I am sure, between
	these copulations, a stranger is kept virtuous, that is,
260	fasting. But of all this, the drink, sir −
262	Wel. What of that, sir?
264	Serv. Faith, sir, I will handle it as the time and your
	patience will give me leave. This drink, or this cooling
266	julap, of which three spoonfuls kills the calenture, a
	pint breeds the cold palsy −
268
	Wel. Sir, you belie the house.
270
	Serv. I would I did, sir! But, as I am a true man, if
272	'twere but one degree colder, nothing but an ass's hoof
	would hold it.
274
	Wel. I am glad on't, sir; for if it had proved stronger,
276	You had been tongue-tied of these commendations.
	Light me the candle, sir: I'll hear no more.
278
	[Exeunt.]
	ACT II, SCENE II.
	A Room in the House of Elder Loveless.
	Enter Young Loveless, Captain, Traveller, Poet,
	Tobacco-man, with Wenches and two Fiddlers.
1	Young. Come, my brave man of war, trace out thy darling.
2	And you, my learned council, set and turn boys;
	Kiss till the cow come home; kiss close, kiss close, knaves;
4	My modern Poet, thou shalt kiss in couplets. −
6	Enter Servant, with wine.
8	Strike up, you merry varlets, and leave your peeping;
	This is no pay for fiddlers.
10
	Capt. Oh, my dear boy, thy Hercules, thy Captain,
12	Makes thee his Hylas, his delight, his solace!
	Love thy brave man of war, and let thy bounty
14	Clap him in shamois. Let there be deducted
	Out of our main potatiön, five marks,
16	In hatchments to adorn this thigh,
	Cramped with this rest of peace, and I will fight
18	Thy battles.
20	Young. Thou shalt have't, boy, and fly in feather. −
	Lead on a march, you michers.
22
	Enter Savil.
24
	Sav. Oh, my head, oh, my heart! what a noise and change is here!
26	Would I had been cold i' the mouth before this day,
	And ne'er have lived to see this dissolution!
28	He that lives within a mile of this place,
	Had as good sleep in the perpetual
30	Noise of an iron mill. There's a dead sea
	Of drink i' the cellar, in which goodly vessels
32	Lie wrecked; and in the middle of this deluge
	Appear the tops of flagons and black-jacks
34	Like churches drowned i' the marshes.
36	Young. What, art thou come? my sweet Sir Amias,
	Welcome to Troy! Come, thou shalt kiss my Helen,
38	And court her in a dance.
40	Sav. Good sir, consider.
42	Young. Shall we consider, gentlemen? how say you?
44	Capt. Consider! that were a simple toy, i’ faith:
	Consider! whose moral's that?
46	The man that cries "consider" is our foe:
	Let my steel know him.
48
	Young. Stay thy dead-doing hand; he must not die yet:
50	Prithee be calm, my Hector.
52	Capt. Peasant slave!
	Thou groom composed of grudgings, live, and thank
54	This gentleman; thou hadst seen Pluto else:
	The next "consider" kills thee.
56
	Trav. Let him drink down his word again, in a gallon
58	Of sack.
60	Poet. 'Tis but a snuff: make it two gallons,
	And let him do it kneeling in repentance.
62
	Sav. Nay, rather kill me; there’s but a layman lost.
64	Good Captain, do your office.
66	Young. Thou shalt drink, steward; drink and dance, my steward. −
	Strike him a hornpipe, squeakers! − Take thy stiver,
68	And pace her till she stew.
70	Sav. Sure, sir, I cannot
	Dance with your gentlewomen; they are too light for me.
72	Pray, break my head, and let me go.
74	Capt. He shall dance, he shall dance.
76	Young. He shall dance and drink, and be drunk and dance,
	And be drunk again, and shall see no meat in a year.
78
	Poet. And three quarters.
80
	Young. And three quarters be it.
82
	[Knocking within.]
84
	Capt. Who knocks there? Let him in.
86
	Sav. [Aside] Some to deliver me, I hope.
88
	Enter Elder Loveless, disguised.
90
	Elder. Gentlemen, God save you all!
92	My business is to one Master Loveless.
94	Capt. This is the gentleman you mean; view him,
	And take his inventory; he's a right one.
96
	Elder. He promises no less, sir.
98
	Young. Sir, your business?
100
	Elder. Sir, I should let you know, − yet I am loath, −
102	Yet I am sworn to 't, − would some other tongue
	Would speak it for me!
104
	Young. Out with it, i' God's name!
106
	Elder. All I desire, sir, is the patiënce
108	And sufferance of a man; and, good sir, be not
	Moved more −
110
	Young. Than a pottle of sack will do:
112	Here is my hand. Prithee, thy business?
114	Elder. Good sir, excuse me; and whatsoever
	You hear, think must have been known unto you;
116	And be yourself discreet, and bear it nobly.
118	Young. Prithee, despatch me.
120	Elder. Your brother’s dead, sir.
122	Young. Thou dost not mean − dead drunk?
124	Elder. No, no; dead, and drowned at sea, sir.
126	Young. Art sure he’s dead?
128	Elder. Too sure, sir.
130	Young. Ay, but art thou very certainly sure of it?
132	Elder. As sure, sir, as I tell it.
134	Young. But art thou sure he came not up again?
136	Elder. He may come up, but ne’er to call you brother.
138	Young. But art sure he had water enough to drown him?
140	Elder. Sure, sir, he wanted none.
142	Young. I would not have him want; I loved him better.
	Here I forgive thee; and, i' faith, be plain;
144	How do I bear it?
146	Elder. Very wisely, sir.
148	Young. Fill him some wine. − Thou dost not see me moved;
	These transitory toys ne'er trouble me;
150	He's in a better place, my friend, I know 't.
	Some fellows would have cried now, and have cursed thee,
152	And fallen out with their meat, and kept a pudder;
	But all this helps not. He was too good for us;
154	And let God keep him!
	There's the right use on 't, friend. Off with thy drink;
156	Thou hast a spice of sorrow makes thee dry. −
	Fill him another. − Savil, your master’s dead;
158	And who am I now, Savil? Nay, let’s all bear it well:
	Wipe, Savil, wipe; tears are but thrown away.
160	We shall have wenches now; shall we not, Savil?
162	Sav. Yes, sir.
164	Young. And drink innumerable?
166	Sav. Yes, forsooth, sir.
168	Young. And you'll strain courtesy, and be drunk a little?
170	Sav. I would be glad, sir, to do my weak endeavour.
172	Young. And you may be brought in time to love a wench too?
174	Sav. In time the sturdy oak, sir −
176	Young. Some more wine
	For my friend there.
178
	Elder. [Aside] I shall be drunk anon
180	For my good news: but I have a loving brother,
	That's my comfort.
182
	Young. Here’s to you, sir;
184	This is the worst I wish you for your news:
	And if I had another elder brother,
186	And say it were his chance to feed more fishes,
	I should be still the same you see me now,
188	A poor contented gentleman. −
	More wine for my friend there; he's dry again.
190
	Elder. [Aside] I shall be, if I follow this beginning.
192	Well, my dear brother, if I scape this drowning,
	Tis your turn next to sink; you shall duck twice
194	Before I help you. − Sir, I cannot drink more;
	Pray, let me have your pardon.
196
	Young. Oh, Lord, sir, 'tis your modesty! − More wine;
198	Give him a bigger glass. − Hug him, my Captain:
	Thou shalt be my chief mourner.
200
	Capt. And this my pennon. − Sir, a full carouse
202	To you, and to my lord of land here.
204	Elder. [Aside] I feel a buzzing in my brains; pray God
	They bear this out, and I'll ne'er trouble them
206	So far again. − Here's to you, sir.
208	Young. To my dear steward.
	Down o' your knees, you infidel, you pagan!
210	Be drunk, and penitent.
212	Sav. Forgive me, sir.
	And I'll be anything.
214
	Young. Then be a bawd;
216	I’ll have thee a brave bawd.
218	Elder. Sir, I must take
	My leave of you, my business is so urgent.
220
	Young. Let's have a bridling cast before you go. −
222	Fill’s a new stoop.
224	Elder. I dare not, sir, by no means.
226	Young. Have you any mind to a wench? I would
	Fain gratify you for the pains you took, sir.
228
	Elder. As little as to the t'other.
230
	Young. If you find any stirring, do but say so.
232
	Elder. Sir, you are too bounteous: when I feel that itching,
234	You shall assuage it, sir, before another.
	This only, and farewell, sir:
236	Your brother, when the storm was most extreme,
	Told all about him, he left a will, which lies close
238	Behind a chimney in the matted chamber.
	And so, as well, sir, as you have made me able,
240	I take my leave.
242	Young. Let us embrace him all. −
	If you grow dry before you end your business,
244	Pray, take a bait here; I have a fresh hogshead for you.
246	Sav. [Drunk] You shall neither will nor choose, sir. My
	master is a wonderful fine gentleman; has a fine state, a
248	very fine state, sir: I am his steward, sir, and his man.
250	Elder. [Aside]
	Would you were your own, sir, as I left you!
252	Well, I must cast about, or all sinks.
254	Sav. Farewell, gentleman, gentleman, gentleman!
256	Elder. What would you with me, sir!
258	Sav. Farewell, gentleman!
260	Elder. Oh, sleep, sir, sleep!
262	[Exit Elder.]
264	Young. Well, boys, you see what’s fallen; let’s in and drink.
	And give thanks for it.
266
	Sav. Let’s give thanks for it.
268
	Young. Drunk, as I live!
270
	Sav. Drunk, as I live, boys!
272
	Young. Why,
274	Now thou art able to discharge thine office,
	And cast up a reckoning of some weight. −
276	I will be knighted, for my state will bear it;
	Tis sixteen hundred, boys. Off with your husks;
278	I’ll skin you all in satin.
280	Capt. Oh, sweet Loveless!
282	Sav. All in satin! Oh, sweet Loveless!
284	Young. March in, my noble compeers; −
	And this, my countess, shall be led by two:
286	And so proceed we to the will.
	[Exeunt.]
	ACT II, SCENE III.
	A Room in Morecraft's House.
	Enter Morecraft and Widow.
1	More. And, widow, as I say, be your own friend:
2	Your husband left you wealthy, ay, and wise;
	Continue so, sweet duck, continue so.
4	Take heed of young smooth varlets, younger brothers;
	They are worms that will eat through your bags;
6	They are very lightning, that, with a flash or two,
	Will melt your money, and never singe your purse-strings;
8	They are colts, wench, colts, heady and dangerous,
	Till we take 'em up, and make 'em fit for bonds.
10	Look upon me; I have had, and have yet,
	Matter of moment, girl, matter of moment:
12	You may meet with a worse back; I'll not commend it.
14	Widow. Nor I neither, sir.
16	More. Yet thus far, by your favour, widow, 'tis tough.
18	Widow. And therefore not for my diet; for I love a tender one.
20	More. Sweet widow, leave your frumps, and be edified.
	You know my state: I sell no pérspectives,
22	Scarfs, gloves, nor hangers, nor put my trust in shoe-ties;
	And where your husband in an age was rising
24	By burnt figs, dredged with meal and powdered sugar,
	Sanders and grains, worm-seed, and rotten raisins,
26	And such vile tobacco that made the footmen mangy;
	I, in a year, have put up hundreds;
28	Enclosed, my widow,
	Those pleasant meadows, by a forfeit mortgage;
30	For which the poor knight takes a lone chamber,
	Owes for his ale, and dare not beat his hostess.
32	Nay, more −
34	Widow. Good sir, no more. Whate’er my husband was,
	I know what I am; and, if you marry me,
36	You must bear it bravely off, sir.
38	More. Not with the head, sweet widow.
40	Widow. No, sweet sir,
	But with your shoulders: I must have you dubbed;
42	For under that I will not stoop a feather.
	My husband was a fellow loved to toil,
44	Fed ill, made gain his exercise, and so
	Grew costive; which, for that I was his wife,
46	I gave way to, and spun mine own smocks coarse,
	And, sir, so little − but let that pass:
48	Time, that wears all things out, wore out this husband;
	Who, in penitence of such fruitless five years marriage,
50	Left me great with his wealth; which, if you'll be
	A worthy gossip to, be knighted, sir.
52
	Enter Savil.
54
	More. Now, sir, from whom come you? whose man are you, sir?
56
	Sav. Sir, I come from young Master Loveless.
58
	More. Be silent, sir;
60	I have no money, not a penny for you:
	He's sunk, your master's sunk; a perished man, sir.
62
	Sav. Indeed, his brother’s sunk, sir; God be with him!
64	A perished man, indeed, and drowned at sea.
66	More. How saidst thou, good my friend? his brother drowned?
68	Sav. Untimely, sir, at sea.
70	More. And thy young master
	Left sole heir?
72
	Sav. Yes, sir.
74
	More. And he wants money?
76
	Sav. Yes;
78	And sent me to you, for he is now to be knighted.
80	More. Widow, be wise; there’s more land coming, widow;
	Be very wise, and give thanks for me, widow.
82
	Widow. Be you very wise, and be knighted, and then
84	give thanks for me, sir.
86	Sav. What says your worship to this money?
88	More. I say,
	He may have money, if he please.
90
	Sav. A thousand, sir?
92
	More. A thousand, sir, provided any wise, sir
94	His land lie for the payment; otherwise −
96	Enter Young Loveless, Captain, Traveller,
	Poet, and Tobacco-man.
98
	Sav. He’s here himself, sir, and can better tell you.
100
	More. My notable dear friend, and worthy Master Loveless,
102	And now right worshipful, all joy and welcome!
104	Young. Thanks to my dear incloser, Master Morecraft:
	Prithee, old angel-gold, salute my family;
106	I’ll do as much for yours. −
	This, and your own desires, fair gentlewoman.
108
	[Kisses Widow.]
110
	Widow. And yours, sir, if you mean well. –
112	[Aside] 'Tis a handsome gentleman.
114	Young. Sirrah, my brother’s dead.
116	More. Dead!
118	Young. Dead;
	And by this time soused for ember-week.
120
	More. Dead!
122
	Young. Drowned, drowned at sea, man; by the next fresh conger
124	That comes, we shall hear more.
126	More. Now, by the faith of my body,
	It moves me much.
128
	Young. What, wilt thou be an ass,
130	And weep for the dead? why, I thought nothing but
	A general inundation would have moved thee.
132	Prithee, be quiet; he hath left his land behind him.
134	More. Oh, has he so?
136	Young. Yes, faith, I thank him for 't; I have all, boy.
	Hast any ready money?
138
	More. Will you sell, sir?
140
	Young. No, not outright, good Gripe; marry, a mortgage.
142	Or such a slight security.
144	More. I have
	No money, sir, for mortgage: if you will sell,
146	And all or none, I’ll work a new mine for you.
148	Sav. Good sir, look afore you; he'll work you out of all
	else. If you sell all your land, you have sold your
150	country; and then you must to sea, to seek your brother,
	and there lie pickled in a powdering-tub, and break your
152	teeth with biscuits and hard beef, that must have
	watering, sir: and where’s your three hundred pounds a-
154	year in drink, then? If you'll tun up the Straits, you may;
	for you have no calling for drink there but with a
156	cannon, nor no scoring but on your ship's sides; and
	then, if you scape with life, and take a faggot-boat and a
158	bottle of usquebaugh, come home, poor man, like a type
	of Thames-street, stinking of pitch and poor-John. I
160	cannot tell, sir; I would be loath to see it.
162	Capt. Steward, you are an ass, a measled mongrel; and,
	were it not against the peace of my sovereign friend
164	here, I would break your forecasting coxcomb, dog, I
	would, even with thy staff of office there, thy pen and
166	inkhorn. − Noble boy, the god of gold here has said
	thee well:
168	Take money for thy dirt. Hark, and believe;
	Thou art cold of constitution, thy seat unhealthful;
170	Sell, and be wise: we are three that will adorn thee,
	And live according to thine own heart, child;
172	Mirth shall be only ours, and only ours
	Shall be the black-eyed beauties of the time.
174	Money makes men eternal.
176	Poet. Do what you will, it is the noblest course:
	Then you may live without the charge of people;
178	Only we four will make a family;
	Ay, and an age that shall beget new annals,
180	In which I'll write thy life, my son of pleasure,
	Equal with Nero or Caligula.
182
	Young. What men were they, Captain?
184
	Capt. Two roaring boys of Rome, that made all split.
186
	Young. Come, sir, what dare you give?
188
	Sav. You will not sell, sir?
190
	Young. Who told you so, sir?
192
	Sav. Good sir, have a care.
194
	Young. Peace, or I'll tack your tongue up to your roof. −
196	What money? speak.
198	More. Six thousand pound, sir.
200	Capt. Take it; h' as overbidden, by the sun!
	Bind him to his bargain quickly.
202
	Young. Come, strike me luck with earnest, and draw the writings.
204
	More. There’s a God's penny for thee.
206
	Sav. Sir, for my old master's sake, let my farm be excepted:
208	If I become his tenant, I am undone,
	My children beggars, and my wife God knows what.
210	Consider me, dear sir.
212	More. I'll have all in
	Or none.
214
	Young. All in, all in. Despatch the writings.
216
	[Exit Young Loveless with Comrades.]
218
	Widow. [Aside] Go, thou art a pretty fore-handed
220	fellow! would thou wert wiser!
222	Sav. Now do I sensibly begin to feel
	Myself a rascal. Would I could teach a school,
224	Or beg, or lie well! I am utterly undone. −
	Now, he that taught thee to deceive and cozen,
226	Take thee to his mercy! so be it!
228	[Exit Savil.]
230	More. Come, widow, come, never stand upon a knighthood;
	'Tis a mere paper honour, and not proof
232	Enough for a sergeant. Come, come, I'll make thee −
234	Wid. To answer in short, 'tis this, sir, − no knight, no widow.
	If you make me anything, it must be a lady;
236	And so I take my leave.
238	More. Farewell, sweet widow,
	And think of it.
240
	Widow. Sir, I do more than think of it;
242	It makes me dream, sir.
244	[Exit Widow.]
246	More. She's rich, and sober if this itch were from her:
	And say I be at charge to pay the footmen,
248	And the trumpets, ay, and the horsemen too,
	And be a knight, and she refuse me then;
250	Then am I hoist into the subsidy,
	And so, by consequence, should prove a coxcomb:
252	I'll have a care of that. Six thousand pound,
	And then the land is mine: there's some refreshing yet.
254
	[Exit.]
	ACT III.
	SCENE I.
	A Room in Lady's House.
	Enter Abigail.
1	Abig. If he but follow me, as all my hopes
2	Tell me he’s man enough, up goes my rest,
	And, I know, I shall draw him.
4
	Enter Welford, with Abigail's glove.
6
	Wel. [Aside] This is the strangest pampered piece of
8	flesh towards fifty, that ever frailty coped withal. What
	a trim l’envoy here she has put upon me! These women
10	are a proud kind of cattle, and love this whoreson doing
	so directly, that they will not stick to make their very
12	skins bawds to their flesh. Here’s dog-skin and storax
	sufficient to kill a hawk: what to do with it, beside
14	nailing it up amongst Irish heads of teer, to shew the
	mightiness of her palm, I know not. There she is: I must
16	enter into dialogue − Lady, you have lost your glove.
18	Abig. Not, sir, if you have found it.
20	Wel. It was my meaning, lady, to restore it.
22	Abig. 'Twill be uncivil in me to take back
	A favour fortune hath so well bestowed, sir:
24	Pray, wear it for me.
26	Wel. [Aside]
	I had rather wear a bell, − But, hark you, mistress,
28	What hidden virtue is there in this glove.
	That you would have me wear it? Is it good
30	Against sore eyes, or will it charm the tooth-ache?
	Or these red tops, being steeped in white wine, soluble,
32	Will 't kill the itch? or has it so concealed
	A providence to keep my hand from bonds?
34	If it have none of these, and prove no more
	But a bare glove of half-a-crown a pair,
36	'Twill be but half a courtesy; I wear two always.
	Faith, let's draw cuts; one will do me no pleasure.
38
	Abig. [Aside]
40	The tenderness of his years keeps him as yet in ignorance:
	He’s a well-moulded fellow, and I wonder
42	His blood should stir no higher: but 'tis his want
	Of company: I must grow nearer to him.
44
	Enter Elder Loveless, disguised.
46
	Elder. God save you both!
48
	Abig. And pardon you, sir! this is somewhat rude:
50	How came you hither?
52	Elder. Why, through the doors; they are open.
54	Wel. What are you? and what business have you here?
56	Elder. More, I believe, than you have.
58	Abig. Who would this fellow speak with? Art thou sober?
60	Elder. Yes; I come not here to sleep.
62	Wel. Prithee, what art thou?
64	Elder. As much, gay man, as thou art; I am a gentleman.
66	Wel. Art thou no more?
68	Elder. Yes, more than thou dar'st be, − a soldier.
70	Abig. Thou dost not come to quarrel?
72	Elder. No, not with women.
	I come to speak here with a gentlewoman.
74
	Abig. Why, I am one.
76
	Elder. But not with one so gentle.
78
	Wel. This is a fine fellow.
80
	Elder. Sir, I am not fine yet; I am but new come over:
82	Direct me with your ticket to your tailor,
	And then I shall be fine, sir. − Lady, if there be
84	A better of your sex within this house,
	Say I would see her.
86
	Abig. Why, am not I good enough for you, sir?
88
	Elder. Your way, you'll be too good. Pray, end my business. −
90	[Aside] This is another suitor: oh, frail woman!
92	Wel. [Aside]
	This fellow, with his bluntness, hopes to do
94	More than the long suits of a thousand could:
	Though he be sour, he’s quick; I must not trust him. −
96	Sir, this lady is not to speak with you;
	She is more serious. You smell as if
98	You were new calked: go, and be handsome, and then
	You may sit with her serving-men.
100
	Elder. What are you, sir?
102
	Wel. Guess by my outside.
104
	Elder. Then I take you, sir,
106	For some new silken thing, weaned from the country,
	That shall, when you come to keep good company,
108	Be beaten into better manners. − Pray,
	Good proud gentlewoman, help me to your mistress.
110
	Abig. How many lives hast thou, that thou talk'st thus rudely?
112
	Elder. But one, one; I am neither cat nor woman.
114
	Wel. And will that one life, sir, maintain you ever
116	In such bold sauciness?
118	Elder. Yes, amongst a nation of such men as you are,
	And be no worse for wearing. − Shall I speak
120	With this lady?
122	Abig. No, by my troth, shall you not.
124	Elder. I must stay here, then.
126	Wel. That you shall not, neither.
128	Elder. Good fine thing, tell me why?
130	Wel. Good angry thing, I’ll tell you:
	This is no place for such companiöns;
132	Such lousy gentlemen shall find their business
	Better i' the suburbs; there your strong pitch-perfume,
134	Mingled with lees of ale, shall reek in fashion:
	This is no Thames-street, sir.
136
	Abig. This gentleman informs you truly;
138	Prithee, be satisfied, and seek the suburbs:
	Good captain, or whatever title else
140	The warlike eel-boats have bestowed upon thee,
	Go and reform thyself; prithee, be sweeter;
142	And know my lady speaks with no such swabbers.
144	Elder. You cannot talk me out with your tradition
	Of wit you pick from plays: go to, I have found ye. −
146	And for you, tender sir, whose gentle blood
	Runs in your nose, and makes you snuff at all
148	But three-piled people, I do let you know,
	He that begot your worship's satin suit,
150	Can make no men, sir: I will see this lady,
	And, with the reverence of your silkenship,
152	In these old ornaments.
154	Wel. You will not, sure?
156	Elder. Sure, sir, I shall.
158	Abig. You would be beaten out?
160	Elder. Indeed, I would not; or, if I would be beaten,
	Pray, who shall beat me? this good gentleman
162	Looks as he were o' the peace.
164	Wel. Sir, you shall see that.
	Will you get you out?
166
	Elder. Yes; that, that shall correct
168	Your boy's tongue. Dare you fight? I will stay here still.
170	[They draw their swords, and fight.]
172	Abig. Oh, their things are out! − Help, help, for God's
	sake! − Madam! − Jesus! They foin at one another! −
174	Madam! why, who is within there?
176	[Exit.]
178	Enter Lady.
180	Lady. Who breeds this rudeness?
182	Wel. This uncivil fellow:
	He says he comes from sea; where, I believe,
184	H'as purged away his manners.
186	Lady. What of him?
188	Wel. Why, he will rudely, without once "God bless you,"
	Press to your privacies, and no denial
190	Must stand betwixt your person and his business:
	I let go his ill language.
192
	Lady. Sir, have you
194	Business with me?
196	Elder. Madam, some I have;
	But not so serious to pawn my life for't.
198	If you keep this quarter, and maintain about you
	Such Knights o' the Sun as this is, to defy
200	Men of employment to you, you may live;
	But in what fame?
202
	Lady. Pray, stay, sir: who has wronged you?
204
	Elder. Wrong me he cannot, though uncivilly
206	He flung his wild words at me: but to you,
	I think, he did no honour, to deny
208	The haste I come withal a passage to you,
	Though I seem coarse.
210
	Lady. Excuse me, gentle sir; 'twas from my knowledge,
212	And shall have no protection. − And to you, sir,
	You have shewed more heat than wit, and from yourself
214	Have borrowed power I never gave you here,
	To do these vild unmanly things. My house
216	Is no blind street to swagger in; and my favours
	Not doting yet on your unknown deserts
218	So far, that I should make you master of my business:
	My credit yet stands fairer with the people
220	Than to be tried with swords; and they that come
	To do me service must not think to win me
222	With hazard of a murder: if your love
	Consist in fury, carry it to the camp,
224	And there, in honour of some common mistress,
	Shorten your youth. I pray, be better tempered;
226	And give me leave a while, sir.
228	Wel. You must have it.
230	[Exit Welford.]
232	Lady. Now, sir, your business?
234	Elder. First, I thank you for schooling this young fellow,
	Whom his own follies, which he’s prone enough
236	Daily to fall into, if you but frown,
	Shall level him a way to his repentance.
238	Next, I should rail at you; but you are a woman,
	And anger’s lost upon you.
240
	Lady. Why at me, sir?
242	I never did you wrong; for, to my knowledge.
	This is the first sight of you.
244
	Elder. You have done that,
246	I must confess, I have the least curse in,
	Because the least acquaintance: but there be
248	(If there be honour in the minds of men)
	Thousands, when they shall know what I deliver,
250	(As all good men must share in't), will to shame
	Blast your black memory.
252
	Lady. How is this, good sir?
254
	Elder. 'Tis that, that if you have a soul, will choke it:
256	You've killed a gentleman.
258	Lady. I killed a gentleman!
260	Elder. You, and your cruèlty, have killed him, woman!
	And such a man (let me be angry in't)
262	Whose least worth weighed above all womens' virtues
	That are; I spare you all to come too: guess him now.
264
	Lady. I am so innocent, I cannot, sir.
266
	Elder. Repent, you mean. You are a perfect woman,
268	And, as the first was, made for man's undoing.
270	Lady. Sir, you have missed your way; I am not she.
272	Elder. Would he had missed his way too, though he had wandered
	Farther than women are ill-spoken of,
274	So he had missed this misery, − you, lady!
276	Lady. How do you do, sir?
278	Elder. Well enough, I hope,
	While I can keep myself from such temptations.
280
	Lady. Pray, leap into this matter; whither would you?
282
	Elder. You had a servant, that your peevishness
284	Enjoined to travel.
286	Lady. Such a one I have still,
	And should be grievèd it were otherwise.
288
	Elder. Then have your asking, and be grieved; he’s dead!
290	How you will answer for his worth I know not;
	But this I am sure, either he, or you, or both,
292	Were stark mad, else he might have lived to have given
	A stronger testimony to the world
294	Of what he might have been. He was a man
	I knew but in his evening; ten suns after,
296	Forced by a tyrant storm, our beaten bark
	Bulged under us: in which sad parting blow
298	He called upon his saint, but not for life,
	On you, unhappy woman; and, whilst all
300	Sought to preserve their souls, he desperately
	Embraced a wave, crying to all that saw it,
302	"If any live, go to my Fate, that forced me
	To this untimely end, and make her happy."
304	His name was Loveless; and I scaped the storm;
	And now you have my business.
306
	Lady. ‘Tis too much.
308	Would I had been that storm! he had not perished.
	If you’ll rail now, I will forgive you, sir;
310	Or if you'll call in more, if any more
	Come from this ruin, I shall justly suffer
312	What they can say: I do confess myself
	A guilty cause in this. I would say more,
314	But grief is grown too great to be delivered.
316	Elder. [Aside]
	I like this well: these women are strange things. −
318	Tis somewhat of the latest now to weep;
	You should have wept when he was going from you,
320	And chained him with those tears at home.
322	Lady. Would you had told me then so! these two arms
	Had been his sea.
324
	Elder. Trust me, you move me much: but, say he lived,
326	These were forgotten things again.
328	Lady. [Aside] Ay, say you so?
	Sure, I should know that voice: this is knavery;
330	I'll fit you for it. − Were he living, sir,
	I would persuade you to be charitable,
332	Ay, and confess we are not all so ill
	As your opinion holds us. Oh, my friend,
334	What penance shall I pull upon my fault,
	Upon my most unworthy self for this?
336
	Elder. Leave to love others; 'twas some jealousy
338	That turned him desperate.
340	Lady. [Aside] I'll be with you straight:
	Are you wrung there?
342
	Elder. [Aside] This works amain upon her.
344
	Lady. I do confess there is a gentleman
346	Has borne me long good will.
348	Elder. [Aside] I do not like that.
350	Lady. And vowed a thousand services to me;
	To me, regardless of him: but since fate,
352	That no power can withstand, has taken from me
	My first and best love, and to weep away
354	My youth is a mere folly, I will shew you
	What I determine, sir; you shall know all. −
356	[To a servant within]
	Call Master Welford, there! − That gentleman
358	I mean to make the model of my fortunes,
	And in his chaste embraces keep alive
360	The memory of my lost lovely Loveless:
	He is somewhat like him too.
362
	Elder. Then you can love?
364
	Lady. Yes, certain, sir:
366	Though it please you to think me hard and cruel,
	I hope I shall persuade you otherwise.
368
	Elder. [Aside] I have made myself a fine fool.
370
	Re-enter Welford.
372
	Wel. Would you have spoke with me, madam?
374
	Lady. Yes, Master Welford; and I ask your pardon,
376	Before this gentleman, for being froward:
	This kiss, and henceforth more affection.
378
	[Kisses Welford.]
380
	Elder. [Aside] So; it is better I were drowned indeed.
382
	Wel. [Aside] This is a sudden passiön; God hold it!
384	This fellow, out of his fear, sure, has
	Persuaded her: I'll give him a new suit on't.
386
	Lady. A parting kiss; and, good sir, let me pray you
388	To wait me in the gallery.
390	[Kisses Welford again.]
392	Wel. [Aside] I am
	In another world! − Madam, where you please.
394
	[Exit.]
396
	Elder. [Aside] I will to sea.
398	And 't shall go hard but I’ll be drowned indeed.
400	Lady. Now, sir, you see I am no such hard creature
	But time may win me.
402
	Elder. You have forgot your lost love?
404
	Lady. Alas, sir, what would you have me do?
406	I cannot call him back again with sorrow:
	I’ll love this man as dearly; and, beshrow me,
408	I’ll keep him far enough from sea. And 'twas told me,
	Now I remember me, by an old wise woman,
410	That my first love should be drowned; and see, 'tis come about.
412	Elder. [Aside]
	I would she had told you your second should be hanged too,
414	And let that come about! –
	[Aloud] But this is very strange.
416
	Lady. Faith, sir, consider all, and then I know
418	You'll be of my mind: if weeping would redeem him,
	I would weep still.
420
	Elder. But, say, that I were Loveless,
422	And scaped the storm; how would you answer this?
424	Lady. Why, for that gentleman I would leave all
	The world.
426
	Elder. This young thing too?
428
	Lady. That young thing too,
430	Or any young thing else: why, I would lose my state.
432	Elder. Why, then, he lives still; I am he, your Loveless.
434	[Throws off his disguise.]
436	Lady. Alas, I knew it, sir, and for that purpose
	Prepared this pageant! Get you to your task,
438	And leave these players' tricks, or I shall leave you;
	Indeed, I shall. Travel, or know me not.
440
	Elder. Will you then marry?
442
	Lady. I will not promise: take your choice. Farewell.
444
	Elder. [Aside]
446	There is no other purgatory but a woman.
	I must do something.
448
	[Exit.]
450
	Re-enter Welford.
452
	Wel. Mistress, I am bold.
454
	Lady. You are, indeed.
456
	Wel. You have so overjoyed me, lady!
458
	Lady. Take heed, you surfeit not; pray, fast and welcome.
460
	Wel. By this light, you love me extremely.
462
	Lady. By this, and to-morrow's light, I care not for you.
464
	Wel. Come, come, you cannot hide it.
466
	Lady. Indeed I can, where you shall never find it.
468
	Wel. I like this mirth well, lady.
470
	Lady. You shall have more on 't.
472
	Wel. I must kiss you.
474
	Lady. No, sir.
476
	Wel. Indeed, I must.
478
	Lady. What must be, must be.
480
	[He kisses her.]
482
	I will take my leave:
484	You have your parting blow. I pray, commend me
	To those few friends you have, that sent you hither,
486	And tell them, when you travel next, 'twere fit
	You brought less bravery with you and more wit;
488	You'll never get a wife else.
490	Wel. Are you in earnest?
492	Lady. Yes, faith. Will you eat, sir? your horses will be
	ready straight: you shall have a napkin laid in the
494	buttery for you.
496	Wel. Do not you love me, then?
498	Lady. Yes, for that face.
500	Wel. It is a good one, lady.
502	Lady. Yes, if it were not warpt; the fire in time may
	mend it.
504
	Wel. Methinks, yours is none of the best, lady.
506
	Lady. No, by my troth, sir; yet o' my conscience, you
508	could make shift with it.
510	Wel. Come, pray, no more of this.
512	Lady. I will not: fare you well. – Ho! who’s within
	there? Bring out the gentleman's horses; he’s in haste;
514	and set some cold meat on the table.
516	Wel. I have too much of that, I thank you, lady:
	Take your chamber when you please, there goes
518	A black one with you, lady.
520	Lady. Farewell, young man.
522	[Exit.]
524	Wel. You have made me one. Farewell; and may the
	curse of a great house fall upon thee, − I mean, the
526	butler! The devil and all his works are in these women.
	Would all of my sex were of my mind! I would make
528	'em a new Lent, and a long one, that flesh might be in
	more reverence with them.
530
	Re-enter Abigail.
532
	Abig. I am sorry, Master Welford −
534
	Wel. So am I, that you are here.
536
	Abig. How does my lady use you?
538
	Wel. As I would use you, scurvily.
540
	Abig. I should have been more kind, sir.
542
	Wel. I should have been undone then. Pray, leave me,
544	And look to your sweet-meats. Hark, your lady calls.
546	Abig. Sir, I shall borrow so much time, without offending.
548	Wel. You're nothing but offence; for God's love, leave me.
550	Abig. 'Tis strange, my lady should be such a tyrant.
552	Wel. To send you to me. Pray, go stitch; good, do:
	You are more trouble to me than a term.
554
	Abig. I do not know how my good will, − if I said love,
556	I lied not, − should any way deserve this.
558	Wel. A thousand ways, a thousand ways. Sweet creature,
	Let me depart in peace.
560
	Abig. What creature, sir? I hope I am a woman.
562
	Wel. A hundred, I think, by your noise.
564
	Abig. Since you are angry, sir, I am bold to tell you that
566	I am a woman, and a rib −
568	Wel. Of a roasted horse.
570	Abig. Conster me that.
572	Wel. A dog can do it better. Farewell, Countess; and
	commend me to your lady; tell her she’s proud and
574	scurvy: and so I commit you both to your tempter.
576	Abig. Sweet Master Welford!
578	Wel. Avoid, old Satanas! Go daub your ruins;
	Your face looks fouler than a storm:
580	The footman stays you in the lobby, lady.
582	Abig. If you were a gentleman, I should know it by
	your gentle conditions. Are these fit words to give a
584	gentlewoman?
586	Wel. As fit as they were made for you. −
	Sirrah, my horses! − Farewell, old adage!
588	Keep your nose warm; the rheum will make it horn else.
590	[Exit Welford.]
592	Abig. The blessings of a prodigal young heir be thy
	companions, Welford! Marry come up, my gentleman,
594	are your gums grown so tender they cannot bite?
	A skittish filly will be your fortune, Welford, and fair
596	enough for such a pack-saddle: and I doubt not,
	if my aim hold, to see her made to amble to your hand.
598
	[Exit.]
	ACT III, SCENE II.
	A Room in the House of Elder Loveless.
	Enter Young Loveless, Captain, Poet,
	Morecraft, Widow, and Savil.
1	Capt. Save thy brave shoulder, my young puissant knight!
2	And may thy back-sword bite them to the bone
	That love thee not! Thou art an errant man;
4	Go on; the circumcised shall fall by thee:
	Let land and labour fill the man that tills;
6	Thy sword must be thy plough; and Jove it speed!
	Mecca shall sweat, and Máhomet shall fall,
8	And thy dear name fill up his monument.
10	Young. It shall, Captain; I mean to be a worthy.
12	Capt. One worthy is too little; thou shalt be all.
14	More. Captain, I shall deserve some of your love too.
16	Capt. Thou shalt have heart and hand too, noble Morecraft,
	If thou wilt lend me money.
18	I am a man of garrison; be ruled,
	And open to me those infernal gates,
20	Whence none of thy evil angels pass again,
	And I will style thee noble, nay, Don Diego;
22	I’ll woo thy infanta for thee, and my knight
	Shall feast her with high meats, and make her apt.
24
	More. Pardon me. Captain, you’re beside my meaning.
26
	Young. No, Master Morecraft, 'tis the Captain's meaning,
28	I should prepare her for you.
30	Capt. Or provoke her. −
	Speak, my modern man; I say, provoke her.
32
	Poet. Captain, I say so too; or stir her to it:
34	So say the critics.
36	Young. But howsoever you expound it, sir,
	She’s very welcome; and this shall serve for witness. –
38
	[Kisses Widow.]
40
	And, widow, since you're come so happily,
42	You shall deliver up the keys, and free
	Possession of this house, whilst I stand by
44	To ratify.
46	Wid. I had rather give it back again, believe me;
	'Tis a misery to say, you had it. Take heed.
48
	Young. 'Tis past that, widow. Come, sit down. − Some wine there! −
50	There is a scurvy banquet, if we had it. −
	[To Morecraft.] All this fair house is yours, sir. − Savil!
52
	Sav. Yes, sir.
54
	Young. Are your keys ready? I must ease your burden.
56
	Sav. I am ready, sir, to be undone, when you
58	Shall call me to 't.
60	Young. Come, come, thou shalt live better.
62	Sav. [Aside] I shall have less to do, that’s all:
	There’s half-a-dozen of my friends i' the fields,
64	Sunning against a bank, with half a breech
	Among 'em; I shall be with 'em shortly. −
66	The care and continual vexation
	Of being rich, eat up this rascal!
68	What shall become of my poor family?
	They are no sheep, and they must keep themselves.
70
	Young. Drink, Master Morecraft. Pray, be merry all.
72	Nay, an you will not drink, there’s no society.
	Captain, speak loud, and drink. − Widow, a word.
74
	[Retires with Widow.]
76
	Capt. Expound her throughly, knight. −
78	Here, god o' gold, here’s to thy fair possessions!
	Be a baron, and a bold one;
80	Leave off your tickling of young heirs like trouts,
	And let thy chimneys smoke; feed men of war;
82	Live, and be honest, and be savèd yet.
84	More. I thank you, worthy Captain, for your counsel,
	You keep your chimneys smoking there, your nostrils;
86	And, when you can, you feed a man of war:
	This makes you not a baron, but a bare one;
88	And how or when you shall be savèd, let
	The clerk of the company you have commanded
90	Have a just care of.
92	Poet. The man is much moved. − Be not angry, sir;
	But, as the poet sings, let your displeasure
94	Be a short fury, and go out. You have spoke home,
	And bitterly to him, sir. − Captain, take truce;
96	The miser is a tart and a witty whoreson.
98	Capt. Poet, you feign, perdie: the wit of this man
	Lies in his fingers' ends; he must tell all;
100	His tongue fills but his mouth like a neat's tongue,
	And only serves to lick his hungry chaps
102	After a purchase: his brains and brimstone are
	The devil's diet to a fat usurer's head. −
104	To her, knight, to her! clap her aboard, and stow her. −
	Where’s the brave steward?
106
	Sav. Here’s your poor friend and Savil, sir.
108
	Capt. Away, thou art rich in ornaments of nature:
110	First, in thy face; thou hast a serious face,
	A betting, bargaining, and saving face,
112	A rich face, − pawn it to the usurer, −
	A face to kindle the compassiön
114	Of the most ignorant and frozen justice.
116	Sav. Tis such, I dare not show it shortly, sir.
118	Capt. Be blithe and bonny, steward. − Master Morecraft,
	Drink to this man of reckoning.
120
	More. [Drinks.] Here’s e'en to him.
122
	Sav. [Aside]
124	The devil guide it downward! would there were in 't
	An acre of the great broom-field he bought,
126	To sweep your dirty conscience, or to choke you!
	Tis all one to me, usurer.
128
	Young. [to Widow]
130	Consider what I told you; you are young,
	Unapt for worldly business. Is it fit,
132	One of such tenderness, so delicate,
	So contrary to things of care, should stir,
134	And break her better meditatiöns,
	In the bare brokage of a brace of angels?
136	Or a new kirtle, though it be of satin?
	Eat by the hope of forfeits and lie down
138	Only in expectation of a morrow,
	That may undo some easy-hearted fool,
140	Or reach a widow's curses? let out money,
	Whose use returns the principal? and get,
142	Out of these troubles, a consuming heir;
	For such a one must follow necessarily?
144	You shall die hated, if not old and miserable;
	And that possessed wealth, that you got with pining,
146	Live to see tumbled to another's hands,
	That is no more a-kin to you than you
148	To his cozenage.
150	Wid. Sir, you speak well: would God, that charity
	Had first begun here!
152
	Young. 'Tis yet time. − Be merry!
154	Methinks, you want wine there; there’s more i' the house. −
	Captain, where rests the health?
156
	Capt. It shall go round, boy.
158
	Young. [To Widow]
160	Say, you can suffer this, because the end
	Points at much profit, − can you so far bow
162	Below your blood, below your too-much beauty,
	To be a partner of this fellow's bed,
164	And lie with his diseases? If you can,
	I will not press you further. Yet look upon him:
166	There’s nothing in that hide-bound usurer,
	That man of mat, that all-decayed, but aches,
168	For you to love, unless his perished lungs,
	His dry cough, or his scurvy; this is truth.
170	And so far I dare speak it: he has yet,
	Past cure of physic, spaw, or any diet,
172	A primitive pox in his bones; and, o' my knowledge,
	He has been ten times rowelled; − you may love him; −
174	He had a bastard, his own toward issue,
	Whipped and then cropped,
176	For washing out the roses in three farthings,
	To make 'em pence.
178
	Wid. I do not like these morals.
180
	Young. You must not like him, then.
182
	Enter Elder Loveless.
184
	Elder. By your leave, gentlemen.
186
	Young. By my troth, sir, you are welcome; welcome, faith.
188	Lord, what a stranger you are grown! Pray, know
	This gentlewoman; and, if you please, these friends here.
190	We are merry; you see the worst on's;
	Your house has been kept warm, sir.
192
	Elder. I am glad
194	To hear it, brother; pray God, you are wise too!
196	Young. Pray, Master Morecraft, know my elder brother; −
	And, Captain, do your compliment. − Savil,
198	I dare swear, is glad at heart to see you.
	Lord, we heard, sir, you were drowned at sea,
200	And see how luckily things come about!
202	More. This money must be paid again, sir.
204	Young. No, sir;
	Pray, keep the sale; 'twill make good tailors' measures:
206	I am well, I thank you.
208	Wid. [Aside] By my troth, the gentleman
	Has stewed him in his own sauce; I shall love him for 't.
210
	Sav. I know not where I am, I am so glad!
212	Your worship is the welcom'st man alive:
	Upon my knees I bid you welcome home.
214	Here has been such a hurry, such a din,
	Such dismal drinking, swearing, and whoring,
216	'T has almost made me mad:
	We have all lived in a continual Turnball-street.
218	Sir, blest be Heaven, that sent you safe again!
	Now shall I eat, and go to bed again.
220
	Elder. Brother, dismiss these people.
222
	Young. Captain, be gone a while;
224	Meet me at my old rendezvous in the evening;
	Take your small poet with you.
226
	[Exeunt Captain and Poet.]
228
	Master Morecraft,
230	You were best go prattle with your learnèd counsel;
	I shall preserve your money: I was cozened
232	When time was; we are quit, sir.
234	Wid. [Aside] Better and better still.
236	Elder. What is this fellow, brother?
238	Young. The thirsty usurer that supped my land off.
240	Elder. What does he tarry for?
242	Young. Sir, to be landlord of your house and state:
	I was bold to make a little sale, sir.
244
	More. Am I over-reached? If there be law, I’ll hamper ye.
246
	Elder. Prithee, be gone, and rail at home; thou art
248	So base a fool, I cannot laugh at thee.
	Sirrah, this comes of cozening: home, and spare;
250	Eat raddish till you raise your sums again.
	If you stir far in this, I’ll have you whipped,
252	Your ears nailed for intelligencing o' the pillory,
	And your goods forfeit. You are a stale cozener:
254	Leave my house. No more!
256	More. A pox upon your house! −
	Come, widow; I shall yet hamper this young gamester.
258
	Wid. Good twelve i' the hundred, keep your way;
260	I am not for your diet:
	Marry in your own tribe, Jew, and get a broker.
262
	Young. 'Tis well said, widow. − Will you jog on, sir?
264
	More. Yes, I will go; but ‘tis no matter whither:
266	But when I trust a wild fool, and a woman,
	May I lend gratis, and build hospitals!
268
	[Exit Morecraft.]
270
	Young. Nay, good sir, make all even:
272	Here is a widow wants your good word for me;
	She's rich, and may renew me and my fortunes.
274
	Elder. I am glad you look before you. − Gentlewoman,
276	Here is a poor distressèd younger brother.
278	Wid. You do him wrong, sir; he’s a knight.
280	Elder. I ask you mercy: yet, 'tis no matter;
	His knighthood is no inheritance, I take it:
282	Whatsoever he is, he’s your servant, or would be, lady.
	Faith, be not merciless, but make a man:
284	He’s young and handsome, though he be my brother,
	And his observances may deserve your love;
286	He shall not fail for means.
288	Wid. Sir, you speak like a worthy brother:
	And so much I do credit your fair language,
290	That I shall love your brother; and so love him −
	But I shall blush to say more.
292
	Elder. Stop her mouth. –
294
	[Young Loveless kisses her.]
296
	I hope you shall not live to know that hour,
298	When this shall be repented. − Now, brother, I should chide;
	But I’ll give no distaste to your fair mistress.
300	I will instruct her in 't, and she shall do 't:
	You have been wild and ignorant; pray, mend it.
302
	Young. Sir, every day, now spring comes on.
304
	Elder. To you, good Master Savil, and your office,
306	Thus much I have to say. You're, from my steward,
	Become, first your own drunkard, then his bawd;
308	They say, you’re excellent grown in both, and perfect:
	Give me your keys, Sir Savil.
310
	Sav. Good sir, consider whom you left me to.
312
	Elder. I left you as a curb for, not to provoke,
314	My brother's follies. Where’s the best drink, now?
	Come, tell me, Savil, where’s the soundest whores?
316	You old he-goat, you dried ape, you lame stallion,
	Must you be leaping in my house! your whores,
318	Like fairies, dance their night-rounds, without fear
	Either of king or constable, within my walls?
320	Are all my hangings safe? my sheep unsold yet?
	I hope my plate is current; I ha' too much on 't.
322	What say you to three hundred pounds in drink now?
324	Sav. Good sir, forgive me, and but hear me speak.
326	Elder. Methinks, thou shouldst be drunk still, and not speak;
	'Tis the more pardonable.
328
	Sav. I will, sir, if you will have it so.
330
	Elder. I thank you: yes, e'en pursue it, sir. Do you hear?
332	Get a whore soon for your recreation;
	Go look out Captain Broken-breech, your fellow,
334	And quarrel, if you dare. I shall deliver
	These keys to one shall have more honesty,
336	Though not so much fine wit, sir. You may walk,
	And gather cresses, sir, to cool your liver;
338	There’s something for you to begin a diet,
	You'll have the pox else. Speed you well, Sir Savil!
340	You may eat at my house to preserve life;
	But keep no fornications in the stables.
342
	[Exeunt Elder and Young Loveless with the Widow.]
344
	Sav. Now must I hang myself; my friends will look for't.
346	Eating and sleeping, I do despise you both now:
	I will run mad first, and, if that get not pity,
348	I’ll drown myself to a most dismal ditty.
350	[Exit.]
	ACT IV.
	SCENE I.
	A Room in Lady's House.
	Enter Abigail.
1	Abig. Alas, poor gentlewoman, to what a misery hath
2	age brought thee, to what a scurvy fortune! Thou, that
	hast been a companion for noblemen, and, at the worst
4	of those times, for gentlemen, now, like a broken
	serving-man, must beg for favour to those, that would
6	have crawled, like pilgrims, to my chamber but for
	an apparition of me.
8	You that be coming on, make much of fifteen,
	And so till five-and-twenty: use your time
10	With reverence, that your profits may arise;
	It will not tarry with you; ecce signum!
12	Here was a face!
	But Time, that like a surfeit eats our youth,
14	(Plague of his iron teeth, and draw 'em for 't!)
	Has been a little bolder here than welcome;
16	And now, to say the truth, I am fit for no man.
	Old men i' the house, of fifty, call me grannam;
18	And when they are drunk, e'en then when Joan and my lady
	Are all one, not one will do me reason.
20	My little Levite hath forsaken me;
	His silver sound of cittern quite abolished;
22	His doleful hymns under my chamber-window
	Digested into tedious learning.
24	Well, fool, you leapt a haddock when you left him:
	He’s a clean man, and a good edifier,
26	And twenty nobles is his state de claro,
	Besides his pigs in posse.
28	To this good homilist I have been ever stubborn,
	Which God forgive me for, and mend my manners!
30	And, Love, if ever thou hadst care of forty,
	Of such a piece of lay ground, hear my prayer,
32	And fire his zeal so far forth, that my faults,
	In this renewed impression of my love,
34	May shew corrected to our gentle reader!
36	Enter Roger.
38	[Aside] See how neglectingly he passes by me!
	With what an equipáge canonical,
40	As though he had broke the heart of Bellarmin,
	Or added something to the singing brethren!
42	Tis scorn, I know it, and deserve it. − Master Roger −
44	Roger. Fair gentlewoman, my name is Roger.
46	Abig. Then, gentle Roger −
48	Roger. Ungentle Abigail!
50	Abig. Why, Master Roger, will you set your wit
	To a weak woman's?
52
	Roger. You are weak, indeed;
54	For so the poet sings.
56	Abig. I do confess
	My weakness, sweet Sir Roger.
58
	Roger. Good my lady's
60	Gentlewoman, or my good lady's gentlewoman,
	(This trope is lost to you now,) leave your prating.
62	You have a season of your first mother in you:
	And, surely, had the devil been in love,
64	He had been abused too. Go, Dalida;
	You make men fools, and wear fig-breeches.
66
	Abig. Well, well, hard-hearted man, dilate
68	Upon the weak infirmities of women;
	These are fit texts: but once there was a time −
70	Would I had never seen those eyes, those eyes,
	Those orient eyes!
72
	Roger. Ay, they were pearls once with you.
74
	Abig. Saving your reverence, sir, so they are still.
76
	Roger. Nay, nay, I do beseech you, leave your cogging:
78	What they are, they are;
	They serve me without spectacles, I thank 'em.
80
	Abig. Oh, will you kill me?
82
	Rog. I do not think I can;
84	You're like a copyhold, with nine lives in 't.
86	Abig. You were wont to bear a Christian fear about you:
	For your own worship's sake −
88
	Rog. I was a Christian fool then.
90	Do you remember what a dance you led me?
	How I grew qualmed in love, and was a dunce?
92	Could expound but once a quarter, and then was out too?
	And then, at prayers once,
94	Out of the stinking stir you put me in,
	I prayed for my own royal issue? You do
96	Remember all this?
98	Abig. Oh, be as then you were!
100	Rog. I thank you for it:
	Surely, I will be wiser, Abigail;
102	And as the ethnick poet sings,
	I will not lose my oil and labour too.
104	You're for the worshipful, I take it, Abigail.
106	Abig. Oh, take it so, and then I am for thee!
108	Rog. I like these tears well, and this humbling also;
	They are symptoms of contrition, as a father saith.
110	If I should fall into my fit again,
	Would you not shake me into a quotidian coxcomb?
112	Would you not use me scurvily again,
	And give me possets with purging comfits in 't?
114	I tell thee, gentlewoman, thou hast been harder to me
	Than a long chapter with a pedigree.
116
	Abig. Oh, curate, cure me!
118	I will love thee better, dearer, longer:
	I will do any thing; betray the secrets
120	Of the main household to thy reformation.
	My lady shall look lovingly on thy learning;
122	And when true time shall 'point thee for a parson,
	I will convert thy eggs to penny-custards,
124	And thy tithe-goose shall graze and multiply.
126	Rog. I am mollified,
	As well shall testify this faithful kiss:
128	And have a great care, Mistress Abigail,
	How you depress the spirit any more
130	With your rebukes and mocks; for certainly
	The edge of such a folly cuts itself.
132
	Abig. Oh, sir, you have pierced me thorough! Here I vow
134	A recantatiön to those malicious faults
	I ever did against you. Never more
136	Will I despise your learning; never more
	Pin cards and cony-tails upon your cassock;
138	Never again reproach your reverend night-cap,
	And call it by the mangy name of murrin;
140	Never your reverend person more, and say,
	You look like one of Baal's priests in a hanging;
142	Never again, when you say grace, laugh at you,
	Nor put you out at prayers; never cramp you more
144	With the great Book of Martyrs; nor, when you ride,
	Get soap and thistles for you. No, my Roger,
146	These faults shall be corrected and amended,
	As by the tenor of my tears appears.
148
	Rog. Now cannot I hold, if I should be hanged; I must cry too.
150	Come to thine own beloved, and do even
	What thou wilt with me, sweet, sweet Abigail!
152	I am thine own for ever; here’s my hand:
	When Roger proves a recreant, hang him i' the bell-ropes!
154
	Enter Lady and Martha.
156
	Lady. Why, how now, Master Roger, no prayers
158	down with you to-night? did you hear the bell ring?
	You are courting; your flock shall fat well for it.
160
	Rog. I humbly ask your pardon. – I’ll clap up prayers,
162	But stay a little, and be with you again.
164	[Exit Roger.]
166	Enter Elder Loveless.
168	Lady. How dare you, being so unworthy a fellow,
	Presume to come to move me any more?
170
	Elder. Ha, ha, ha!
172
	Lady. What ails the fellow?
174
	Elder. The fellow comes to laugh at you. −
176	I tell you, lady, I would not, for your land,
	Be such a coxcomb, such a whining ass,
178	As you decreed me for when I was last here.
180	Lady. I joy to hear you are wise, sir; 'tis a rare jewel
	In an elder brother: pray, be wiser yet.
182
	Elder. Methinks I am very wise: I do not come a-wooing;
184	Indeed, I'll move no more love to your ladyship.
186	Lady. What make you here, then?
188	Elder. Only to see you, and be merry, lady;
	That’s all my business. Faith, let’s be very merry.
190	Where’s little Roger? he is a good fellow:
	An hour or two, well spent in wholesome mirth,
192	Is worth a thousand of these puling passions.
	'Tis an ill world for lovers.
194
	Lady. They were never fewer.
196
	Elder. I thank God, there is one less for me, lady.
198
	Lady. You were never any, sir.
200
	Elder. Till now; and now I am the prettiest fellow!
202
	Lady. You talk like a tailor, sir.
204
	Elder. Methinks, your faces are no such fine things now.
206
	Lady. Why did you tell me you were wise? Lord, what
208	a lying age is this! Where will you mend these faces?
210	Elder. A hog's face soused is worth a hundred of 'em.
212	Lady. Sure, you had some sow to your mother.
214	Elder. She brought such fine white pigs as you,
	fit for none but parsons, lady.
216
	Lady. 'Tis well you will allow us our clergy yet.
218
	Elder. That shall not save you. Oh, that I were in love
220	again with a wish!
222	Lady. By this light, you are a scurvy fellow! pray, be
	gone.
224
	Elder. You know, I am a clean-skinned man.
226
	Lady. Do I know it?
228
	Elder. Come, come, you would know it; that’s as
230	good: but not a snap, never long for ‘t, not a snap, dear
	lady.
232
	Lady. Hark ye, sir, hark ye, get you to the suburbs;
234	There’s horse-flesh for such hounds. Will you go, sir?
236	Elder. Lord, how I loved this woman! how I worshipped
	This pretty calf with the white face here! As I live.
238	You were the prettiest fool to play withal,
	The wittiest little varlet! It would talk;
240	Lord, how it talked! and when I angered it,
	It would cry out, and scratch, and eat no meat,
242	And it would say, "Go hang!”
244	Lady. It will say so still, if you anger it.
246	Elder. And when I asked it, if it would be married,
	It sent me of an errand into France;
248	And would abuse me, and be glad it did so.
250	Lady. Sir, this is most unmanly; pray, be gone.
252	Elder. And swear (even when it twittered to be at me)
	I was unhandsome.
254
	Lady. Have you no manners in you?
256
	Elder. And say my back was melted, when, the gods know,
258	I kept it at a charge, − four Flanders mares
	Would have been easier to me, and a fencer.
260
	Lady. You think all this is true now?
262
	Elder. Faith, whether it be or no, 'tis too good for you.
264	But so much for our mirth: now have at you in earnest.
266	Lady. There is enough, sir; I desire no more.
268	Elder. Yes, faith, we’ll have a cast at your best parts now;
	And then the devil take the worst!
270
	Lady. Pray, sir, no more; I am not much affected
272	With your commendatiöns. 'Tis almost dinner:
	I know they stay you at the ordinary.
274
	Elder. E'en a short grace, and then I am gone. You are
276	A woman, and the proudest that ever loved a coach;
	The scornfullest, scurviest, and most senseless woman;
278	The greediest to be praised, and never moved,
	Though it be gross and open; the most envious,
280	That, at the poor fame of another's face,
	Would eat your own, and more than is your own,
282	The paint belonging to it; of such a self-opinion,
	That you think none can deserve your glove;
284	And for your malice, you are so excellent,
	You might have been your tempter's tutor. Nay,
286	Never cry.
288	Lady. Your own heart knows you wrong me.
	I cry for you!
290
	Elder. You shall, before I leave you.
292
	Lady. Is all this spoke in earnest?
294
	Elder. Yes, and more,
296	As soon as I can get it out.
298	Lady. Well, out with 't.
300	Elder. You are − let me see −
302	Lady. One that has used you with too much respect.
304	Elder. One that hath used me, since you will have it so,
	The basest, the most foot-boy-like, without respect
306	Of what I was, or what you might be by me;
	You have used me as I would use a jade,
308	Ride him off’s legs, then turn him into the commons;
	You have used me with discretion, and I thank you.
310	If you have many more such pretty servants,
	Pray, build an hospital, and, when they are old,
312	Keep 'em, for shame.
314	Lady. I cannot think yet this is serious.
316	Elder. Will you have more on 't!
318	Lady. No, faith, there’s enough,
	If it be true; too much, by all my part.
320	You are no lover, then?
322	Elder. No, I had rather be a carrier.
324	Lady. Why, the gods amend all!
326	Elder. Neither do I think
	There can be such a fellow found i’ the world,
328	To be in love with such a froward woman:
	If there be such, they’re mad; Jove comfort em!
330	Now you have all; and I as new a man,
	As light and spirited, that I feel myself
332	Clean through another creature. Oh, 'tis brave
	To be one's own man! I can see you now
334	As I would see a picture; sit all day
	By you, and never kiss your hand; hear you sing,
336	And never fall backward; but, with as set a temper
	As I would hear a fiddler, rise and thank you:
338	I can now keep my money in my purse,
	That still was gadding out for scarfs and waistcoats;
340	And keep my hand from mercers' sheep-skins finely:
	I can eat mutton now, and feast myself
342	With my two shillings, and can see a play
	For eighteen-pence again: I can, my lady.
344
	Lady. [Aside] The carriage of this fellow vexes me. −
346	Sir, pray, let me speak a little private with you. −
	[Aside] I must not suffer this.
348
	Elder. Ha, ha, ha! What would you with me?
350	You will not ravish me? Now, your set speech.
352	Lady. Thou perjured man!
354	Elder. Ha, ha, ha! this is a fine
	Exordium: and why, I pray you, perjured?
356
	Lady. Did you not swear a thousand thousand times,
358	You loved me best of all things?
360	Elder. I do confess it: make your best of that.
362	Lady. Why do you say you do not, then?
364	Elder. Nay, I’ll swear it.
	And give sufficient reason, − your own usage.
366
	Lady. Do you not love me now, then?
368
	Elder. No, faith.
370
	Lady. Did you ever think I loved you dearly?
372
	Elder. Yes; but I see but rotten fruits on 't.
374
	Lady. Do not deny your hand, for I must kiss it,
376	And take my last farewell.
378	[Kisses his hand.]
380	Now let me die,
	So you be happy!
382
	Elder. I am too foolish. − Lady! speak, dear lady!
384
	Lady. No, let me die.
386
	[She swoons.]
388
	Mar. Oh, my sister!
390
	Abig. Oh, my lady! Help, help!
392
	Mar. Run for some rosa solis!
394
	Elder. I have played the fine ass! − Bend her body. − Lady,
396	Best, dearest, worthiest lady, hear your servant!
	I am not as I shewed. − Oh, wretched fool,
398	To fling away the jewel of thy life thus! −
	Give her more air. See, she begins to stir. −
400	Sweet mistress, hear me!
402	Lady. Is my servant well?
404	Elder. In being yours, I am so.
406	Lady. Then I care not.
408	Elder. How do you? − Reach a chair there. − I confess
	My fault not pardonable, in pursuing thus,
410	Upon such tenderness, my willful error;
	But had I known it would have wrought thus with you,
412	Thus strangely, not the world had won me to it:
	And let not, my best lady, any word,
414	Spoke to my end, disturb your quiet peace;
	For sooner shall you know a general ruin
416	Than my faith broken. Do not doubt this, mistress;
	For, by my life, I cannot live without you.
418	Come, come, you shall not grieve: rather be angry,
	And heap infliction on me; I will suffer.
420	Oh, I could curse myself! Pray, smile upon me.
	Upon my faith, it was but a trick to try you,
422	Knowing you loved me dearly, and yet strangely
	That you would never shew it, though my means
424	Was all humility.
426	All. Ha, ha
428	Elder. How now?
430	Lady. I thank you, fine fool, for your most fine plot:
	This was a subtle one, a stiff device
432	To have caught dotterels with. Good senseless sir,
	Could you imagine I should swoon for you,
434	And know yourself to be an arrant ass,
	Ay, a discovered one? 'Tis quit; I thank you, sir.
436	Ha, ha, ha!
438	Mar. Take heed, sir; she may chance to swoon again.
440	All. Ha, ha, ha!
442	Abig. Step to her, sir; see how she changes colour!
444	Elder. I’ll go to hell first, and be better welcome.
	I am fooled, I do confess it, finely fooled;
446	Lady-fooled, madam; and I thank you for it.
448	Lady. Faith, ‘tis not so much worth, sir:
	But if I know when you come next a-birding,
450	I’ll have a stronger noose to hold the woodcock.
452	All. Ha, ha, ha!
454	Elder. I am glad to see you merry; pray, laugh on.
456	Mar. H'ad a hard heart, that could not laugh at you, sir.
	Ha, ha, ha!
458
	Lady. Pray, sister, do not laugh; you'll anger him;
460	And then he'll rail like a rude costermonger,
	That school-boys had cozened of his apples,
462	As loud and senseless.
464	Elder. I will not rail.
466	Mar. Faith, then, let’s hear him, sister.
468	Elder. Yes, you shall hear me.
470	Lady. Shall we be the better for it, then?
472	Elder. No; he that makes a woman better by his words,
	I’ll have him sainted: blows will not do it.
474
	Lady. By this light, he'll beat us.
476
	Elder. You do deserve it richly, and may live
478	To have a beadle do it.
480	Lady. Now he rails.
482	Elder. Come, scornful folly, if this be railing, you
	Shall hear me rail.
484
	Lady. Pray, put it in good words, then.
486
	Elder. The worst are good enough for such a trifle,
488	Such a proud piece of cobweb-lawn.
490	Lady. You bite, sir.
492	Elder. I would till the bones cracked, an I had my will.
494	Mar. We had best muzzle him; he grows mad.
496	Elder. I would 'twere lawful in the next great sickness,
	To have the dogs spared, those harmless creatures,
498	And knock i' the head these hot continual plagues,
	Women, that are more infectious. I hope
500	The state will think on 't.
502	Lady. Are you well, sir?
504	Mar. He looks
	As though he had a grievous fit o' the colic.
506
	Elder. Green-ginger, will you cure me?
508
	Abig. I’ll heat
510	A trencher for him.
512	Elder. Dirty December, do;
	Thou with a face as old as Erra Pater;
514	Such a prognosticating nose; thou thing,
	That ten years since has left to be a woman,
516	Out-worn the expectation of a bawd;
	And thy dry bones can reach at nothing now,
518	But gords or nine-pins; pray, go fetch a trencher, go.
520	Lady. Let him alone; he's cracked.
522	Abig. I'll see him hanged first: he's a beastly fellow,
	To use a woman of my breeding thus;
524	Ay, marry, is he. Would I were a man,
	I'd make him eat his knave's words!
526
	Elder. Tie your she-otter up, good Lady Folly,
528	She stinks worse than a bear-baiting.
530	Lady. Why, will you be angry now?
532	Elder. Go, paint, and purge;
	Call in your kennel with you. You a lady!
534
	Abig. Sirrah, look to't against the quarter-sessions:
536	If there be good behaviour in the world,
	I'll have thee bound to it.
538
	Elder. You must not seek it in your lady's house, then. −
540	Pray, send this ferret home, − and spin, good Abigail: −
	And, madam, that your ladyship may know
542	In what base manner you have used my service,
	I do from this hour hate thee heartily;
544	And though your folly should whip you to repentance,
	And waken you at length, to see my wrongs,
546	'Tis not the endeavour of your life shall win me, −
	Not all the friends you have in intercession,
548	Nor your submissive letters, though they spoke
	As many tears as words; not your knees grown
550	To the ground in penitence, nor all your state, −
	To kiss you; nor my pardon, nor will
552	To give you Christian burial, if you die thus:
	So farewell. −
554	When I am married and made sure, I'll come
	And visit you again, and vex you, lady:
556	By all my hopes, I’ll be a torment to you,
	Worse than a tedious winter. I know you will
558	Recant and sue to me; but save that labour:
	I’ll rather love a fever and continual thirst,
560	Rather contract my youth to drink, and safer
	Dote upon quarrels,
562	Or take a drawn whore from an hospital,
	That time, diseases, and mercury had eaten,
564	Than to be drawn to love you.
566	Lady. Ha, ha, ha! Pray, do; but take heed though.
568	Elder. From thee, false dice, jades, cowards, and plaguy summers,
	Good Lord, deliver me!
570
	[Exit Elder.]
572
	Lady. But hark you, servant, hark ye! − Is he gone?
574	Call him again.
576	Abig. Hang him, paddock!
578	Lady. Art thou here still? fly, fly, and call my servant;
	Fly, or ne'er see me more.
580
	Abig. [Aside] I had rather knit again than see that rascal;
582	But I must do it.
584	[Exit Abigail.]
586	Lady. I would be loath to anger him too much.
	What fine foolery is this in a woman,
588	To use those men most frowardly they love most?
	If I should lose him thus, I were rightly served.
590	I hope he's not so much himself to take it
	To the heart.
592
	Re-enter Abigail.
594
	How now? will he come back?
596
	Abig. Never, he swears, whilst he can hear men say
598	There's any woman living: he swore he would ha' me first.
600	Lady. Didst thou entreat him, wench?
602	Abig. As well as I could, madam.
	But this is still your way, to love being absent,
604	And when he's with you, laugh at him and abuse him.
	There is another way, if you could hit on 't.
606
	Lady. Thou sayst true; get me paper, pen, and ink;
608	I'll write to him: I’d be loath he should sleep in’s anger.
	Women are most fools when they think they're wisest.
610
	[Exeunt.]
	ACT IV, SCENE II.
	A Street.
	Music.
	Enter Young Loveless and Widow,
	going to be married: with them Captain and Poet.
1	Widow. Pray, sir, cast off these fellows, as unfitting
2	For your bare knowledge, and far more your company.
	Is 't fit such ragamuffins as these are,
4	Should bear the name of friends, and furnish out
	A civil house? you’re to be married now;
6	And men, that love you, must expect a course
	Far from your old career. If you will keep 'em,
8	Turn 'em to the stable, and there make 'em grooms:
	And yet, now I consider it, such beggars
10	Once set o' horse-back, you have heard, will ride −
	How far, you had best to look to.
12
	Capt. Hear you, you
14	That must be lady: pray, content yourself,
	And think upon your carriage soon at night,
16	What dressing will best take your knight, what waistcoat,
	What cordial will do well i' the morning for him.
18	What triers have you?
20	Widow. What do you mean, sir?
22	Capt. Those that must switch him up. If he start well,
	Fear not, but cry, "Saint George," and bear him hard:
24	When you perceive his wind grows hot and wanting,
	Let him a little down; he’s fleet, ne'er doubt him,
26	And stands sound.
28	Widow. Sir, you hear these fellows?
30	Young. Merry companions, wench, merry companions.
32	Widow. To one another let 'em be companions,
	But, good sir, not to you: you shall be civil,
34	And slip off these base trappings.
36	Capt. He shall not need, my most sweet Lady Grocer,
	If he be civil, not your powdered sugar,
38	Nor your raisins, shall persuade the captain
	To live a coxcomb with him: let him be civil,
40	And eat i’ the Arches, and see what will come on 't.
42	Poet. Let him be civil, do: undo him; ay, that’s the next way.
	I will not take, if he be civil once,
44	Two hundred pounds a year to live with him.
	Be civil! there's a trim persuasiön.
46
	Capt. If thou be'st civil, knight, (as Jove defend it!)
48	Get thee another nose; that will be pulled
	Off by the angry boys for thy conversion.
50	The children thou shalt get on this civilian
	Cannot inherit by the law; they're ethnicks,
52	And all thy sport mere moral lechery:
	When they are grown, having but little in 'em,
54	They may prove haberdashers, or gross grocers,
	Like their dear dam there. Prithee, be civil, knight:
56	In time thou mayst read to thy household,
	And be drunk once a-year; this would shew finely.
58
	Young. I wonder, sweetheart, you will offer this;
60	You do not understand these gentlemen.
	I will be short and pithy; I had rather
62	Cast you off, by the way of charge. These are creatures,
	That nothing goes to the maintenance of
64	But corn and water. I will keep these fellows
	Just in the competency of two hens.
66
	Widow. If you can cast it so, sir, you have my liking:
68	If they eat less, I should not be offended.
	But how these, sir, can live upon so little
70	As corn and water, I am unbelieving.
72	Young. Why, prithee, sweetheart, what’s your ale?
	Is not that corn and water, my sweet widow?
74
	Widow. Ay; but, my sweet knight, where’s the meat to this,
76	And clothes, that they must look for?
78	Young. In this short sentence, ale, is all included;
	Meat, drink, and cloth. These are no ravening footmen,
80	No fellows that at ordinaries dare eat
	Their eighteen-pence thrice out before they rise,
82	And yet go hungry to a play, and crack
	More nuts than would suffice a dozen squirrels,
84	Besides the din, which is damnable:
	I had rather rail, and be confined to a boat-maker,
86	Than live among such rascals. These are people
	Of such a clean discretion in their diet,
88	Of such a moderate sustenance, that they sweat
	If they but smell hot meat; porridge is poison;
90	They hate a kitchen as they hate a counter;
	And shew 'em but a feather-bed, they swound.
92	Ale is their eating and their drinking surely,
	Which keeps their bodies clear and soluble.
94	Bread is a binder, and for that abolished,
	Even in their ale, whose lost room fills an apple,
96	Which is more airy, and of subtler nature.
	The rest they take is little, and that little
98	As little easy; for, like strict men of order,
	They do correct their bodies with a bench
100	Or a poor stubborn table; if a chimney
	Offer itself, with some few broken rushes,
102	They are in down: when they are sick, that’s drunk,
	They may have fresh straw; else they do despise
104	These worldly pamperings. For their poor apparel,
	'Tis worn out to the diet; new they seek none;
106	And if a man should offer, they are angry,
	Scarce to be reconciled again with him:
108	You shall not hear 'em ask one a cast doublet
	Once in a year, which is a modesty
110	Befitting my poor friends: you see their wardrobe,
	Though slender, competent; for shirts, I take it,
112	They are things worn out of their remembrance.
	Lousy they will be when they list, and mangy,
114	Which shews a fine variety; and then, to cure ‘em,
	A tanner's lime-pit, which is little charge;
116	Two dogs, and these two, may be cured for threepence.
118	Widow. You have half persuaded me; pray, use your pleasure: −
	And, my good friends, since I do know your diet,
120	I’ll take an order meat shall not offend you;
	You shall have ale.
122
	Capt. We ask no more; let it be mighty, lady,
124	And, if we perish, then our own sins on us!
126	Young. Come, forward, gentlemen; to church, my boys!
	When we have done, I’ll give you cheer in bowls.
128
	[Exeunt.]
	ACT V.
	SCENE I.
	A Room in the House of Elder Loveless.
	Enter Elder Loveless.
1	Elder. This senseless woman vexes me to the heart;
2	She will not from my memory: would she were
	A man for one two hours, that I might beat her!
4	If I had been unhandsome, old, or jealous,
	'T had been an even lay she might have scorned me;
6	But to be young, and, by this light, I think,
	As proper as the proudest; made as clean,
8	As straight, and strong-backed; means and manners equal
	With the best cloth-of-silver sir i' the kingdom −
10	But these are things, at some time of the moon,
	Below the cut of canvass. Sure, she has
12	Some meeching rascal in her house, some hind,
	That she hath seen bear, like another Milo,
14	Quarters of malt upon his back, and sing with 't;
	Thrash all day, and i' th' evening, in his stockings,
16	Strike up a hornpipe, and there stink two hours,
	And ne'er a whit the worse man: these are they,
18	These steel-chined rascals, that undo us all.
	Would I had been a carter, or a coachman!
20	I had done the deed ere this time.
22	Enter Servant.
24	Serv. Sir, there’s a gentleman without would speak with you.
26	Elder. Bid him come in.
28	[Exit Servant.]
30	Enter Welford.
32	Wel. By your leave, sir.
34	Elder. You are welcome: what’s your will, sir?
36	Wel. Have you forgotten me?
38	Elder. I do not much remember you,
40	Wel. You must, sir.
	I am that gentleman you pleased to wrong
42	In your disguise; I have inquired you out.
44	Elder. I was disguised indeed, sir, if I wronged you.
	Pray, where and when?
46
	Wel. In such a lady's house, sir,
48	I need not name her.
50	Elder. I do remember you:
	You seemed to be a suitor to that lady.
52
	Wel. If you remember this, do not forget
54	How scurvily you used me: that was
	No place to quarrel in; pray you, think of it:
56	If you be honest, you dare fight with me,
	Without more urging; else I must provoke ye.
58
	Elder. Sir, I dare fight, but never for a woman;
60	I will not have her in my cause; she's mortal,
	And so is not my anger. If you have brought
62	A nobler subject for our swords, I am for you;
	In this I would be loath to prick my finger:
64	And where you say I wronged you, 'tis so far
	From my profession, that, amongst my fears,
66	To do wrong is the greatest. Credit me,
	We have been both abused, not by ourselves
68	(For that I hold a spleen, no sin of malice,
	And may, with man enough, be left forgotten),
70	But by that willful, scornful piece of hatred,
	That much-forgetful lady: for whose sake,
72	If we should leave our reason, and run on
	Upon our sense, like rams, the little world
74	Of good men would laugh at us, and despise us,
	Fixing upon our desperate memories
76	The never-worn-out names of fools and fencers.
	Sir, 'tis not fear, but reason, makes me tell you,
78	In this I had rather help you, sir, than hurt you.
	And you shall find it, though you throw yourself
80	Into as many dangers as she offers,
	Though you redeem her lost name every day,
82	And find her out new honours with your sword,
	You shall but be her mirth, as I have been.
84
	Wel. I ask you mercy, sir; you have ta'en my edge off;
86	Yet I would fain be even with this lady.
88	Elder. In which I’ll be your helper: we are two;
	And they are two, − two sisters, rich alike,
90	Only the elder has the prouder dowry.
	In troth, I pity this disgrace in you,
92	Yet of mine own I am senseless. Do but
	Follow my counsel, and I’ll pawn my spirit,
94	We'll over-reach 'em yet: the means is this −
96	Re-enter Servant.
98	Serv. Sir, there’s a gentlewoman will needs speak with you;
	I cannot keep her out; she’s entered, sir.
100
	Elder. It is the waiting-woman: pray, be not seen. −
102	Sirrah, hold her in discourse a while.
104	[Exit Servant.]
106	Hark in your ear [whispers]: go, and despatch it quickly:
	When I come in, I’ll tell you all the project.
108
	Wel. I care not which I have.
110
	Elder. Away; 'tis done;
112	She must not see you.
114	[Exit Welford.]
116	Enter Abigail.
118	Now, Lady Guinever, what news with you?
120	Abig. Pray, leave these frumps, sir, and receive this letter.
122	[Gives letter.]
124	Elder. From whom, good Vanity?
126	Abig. 'Tis from my lady, sir: alas, good soul,
	She cries and takes on!
128
	Elder. Does she so, good soul?
130	Would she not have a caudle? Does she send you
	With your fine oratory, goody Tully,
132	To tie me to belief again? − Bring out the cat-hounds! −
	I’ll make you take a tree, whore; then with my tiller
134	Bring down your gibship, and then have you cased,
	And hung up i' the warren,
136
	Abig. I am no beast, sir; would you knew it!
138
	Elder. Would I did! for I am yet very doubtful.
140	What will you say now?
142	Abig. Nothing, not I.
144	Elder. Art thou a woman, and say nothing?
146	Abig. Unless you'll hear me with more moderation.
	I can speak wise enough.
148
	Elder. And loud enough. Will your lady love me?
150
	Abig. It seems so by her letter and her lamentations;
152	But you are such another man!
154	Elder. Not such another as I was, mumps;
	Nor will not be. I'll read her fine epistle.
156
	[Reads.]
158
	Ha, ha, ha! is not thy mistress mad?
160
	Abig. For you she will be. 'Tis a shame you should
162	Use a poor gentlewoman so untowardly:
	She loves the ground you tread on; and you, hard heart,
164	Because she jested with you, mean to kill her.
	'Tis a fine conquest, as they say.
166
	[Weeps.]
168
	Elder. Hast thou so much moisture
170	In thy whit-leather hide yet, that thou canst cry?
	I would have sworn thou hadst been touchwood five year since.
172	Nay, let it rain; thy face chops for a shower,
	Like a dry dunghill.
174
	Abig. I’ll not endure
176	This ribaldry. Farewell, i’ the devil's name!
	If my lady die, I’ll be sworn before a jury,
178	Thou art the cause on 't.
180	Elder. Do, maukin, do.
	Deliver to your lady from me this:
182	I mean to see her, if I have no other business;
	Which before I’ll want, to come to her, I mean
184	To go seek birds' nests. Yet I may come, too;
	But if I come,
186	From this door till I see her, will I think
	How to rail vildly at her; how to vex her,
188	And make her cry so much, that the physician,
	If she fall sick upon it, shall want urine
190	To find the cause by, and she remediless
	Die in her heresy. Farewell, old adage!
192	I hope to see the boys make pot-guns on thee.
194	Abig. Thou 'rt a vile man: God bless my issue from thee!
196	Elder. Thou hast but one, and that’s in thy left crupper,
	That makes thee hobble so: you must be ground
198	I’ the breech like a top; you'll never spin well else.
	Farewell, fytchock!
200
	[Exeunt severally.]
	ACT V, SCENE II.
	A Room in Lady's House.
	Enter Lady.
1	Lady. Is it not strange that every woman's will
2	Should track out new ways to disturb herself?
	If I should call my reason to account,
4	It cannot answer why I keep myself
	From mine own wish, and stop the man I love
6	From his; and every hour repent again,
	Yet still go on. I know 'tis like a man
8	That wants his natural sleep, and, growing dull,
	Would gladly give the remnant of his life
10	For two hours' rest; yet, through his frowardness,
	Will rather choose to watch another man,
12	Drowsy as he, than take his own repose.
	All this I know; yet a strange peevishness,
14	And anger not to have the power to do
	Things unexpected, carries me away
16	To mine own ruin: I had rather die
	Sometimes than not disgrace in public him
18	Whom people think I love; and do 't with oaths,
	And am in earnest then. Oh, what are we?
20	Men, you must answer this, that dare obey
	Such things as we command.
22
	Enter Abigail.
24
	How now? what news?
26
	Abig. Faith, madam, none worth hearing.
28
	Lady. Is he not come?
30
	Abig. No, truly.
32
	Lady. Nor has he writ?
34
	Abig. Neither. I pray God you have not undone
36	yourself.
38	Lady. Why, but what says he?
40	Abig. Faith, he talks strangely.
42	Lady. How strangely?
44	Abig. First, at your letter he laughed extremely.
46	Lady. What, in contempt?
48	Abig. He laughed monstrous loud, as he would die; −
	and when you wrote it, I think, you were in no such
50	merry mood, to provoke him that way; − and having
	done, he cried, "Alas for her!" and violently laughed
52	again.
54	Lady. Did he?
56	Abig. Yes; till I was angry.
58	Lady. Angry! why?
	Why wert thou angry? he did do but well;
60	I did deserve it; he had been a fool,
	An unfit man for any one to love,
62	Had he not laughed thus at me. You were angry!
	That shewed your folly: I shall love him more
64	For that, than all that e'er he did before.
	But said he nothing else?
66
	Abig. Many uncertain things. He said, though you had
68	mocked him, because you were a woman, he could
	wish to do you so much favour as to see you: yet, he
70	said, he knew you rash, and was loath to offend you
	with the sight of one whom now he was bound not to
72	leave.
74	Lady. What one was that?
76	Abig. I know not, but truly I do fear there is a making
	up there; for I heard the servants, as I passed by some,
78	whisper such a thing: and as I came back through the
	hall, there were two or three clerks writing great
80	conveyances in haste, which, they said, were for their
	mistress' jointure.
82
	Lady. 'Tis very like, and fit it should be so;
84	For he does think, and reasonably think,
	That I should keep him, with my idle tricks,
86	For ever ere he married.
88	Abig. At last, he said it should go hard but he
	Would see you, for your satisfactiön.
90
	Lady. All we, that are called women, know as well
92	As men, it were a far more noble thing
	To grace where we are graced, and give respect
94	There where we are respected: yet we practise
	A wilder course, and never bend our eyes
96	On men with pleasure, till they find the way
	To give us a neglect; then we, too late,
98	Perceive the loss of what we might have had,
	And dote to death.
100
	Enter Martha.
102
	Mar. Sister, yonder’s your servant,
104	With a gentlewoman with him.
106	Lady. Where?
108	Mar. Close at the door.
110	Lady. Alas, I am undone! I fear he is betrothed.
	What kind of woman is she?
112
	Mar. A most ill-favoured one, with her mask on;
114	And how her face should mend the rest, I know not.
116	Lady. But yet her mind is of a milder stuff
	Than mine was.
118
	Enter Elder Loveless
120	and Welford in woman's apparel.
122	[Aside] Now I see him, if my heart
	Swell not again − away, thou woman's pride! −
124	So that I cannot speak a gentle word to him,
	Let me not live.
126
	Elder. By your leave here.
128
	Lady. How now? what new trick invites you hither?
130	Ha' you a fine device again?
132	Elder. Faith, this is the finest device I have now. −
	How dost thou, sweetheart?
134
	Wel. Why, very well, so long as I may please
136	You, my dear lover: I nor can nor will
	Be ill when you are well, well when you are ill.
138
	Elder. Oh, thy sweet temper! What would I have given,
140	That lady had been like thee! See'st thou her?
	That face, my love, joined with thy humble mind,
142	Had made a wench indeed.
144	Wel. Alas, my love.
	What God hath done I dare not think to mend!
146	I use no paint nor any drugs of art;
	My hands and face will shew it.
148
	Lady. Why, what thing have you brought to shew us there?
150	Do you take money for it?
152	Elder. A godlike thing,
	Not to be bought for money; 'tis my mistress,
154	In whom there is no passion, nor no scorn;
	What I will is for law. Pray you, salute her.
156
	Lady. Salute her! by this good light, I would not kiss her
158	For half my wealth.
160	Elder. Why? why, pray you?
	You shall see me do 't afore you: look you.
162
	[Kisses Welford.]
164
	Lady. Now fie upon thee! a beast would not have done 't. −
166	I would not kiss thee of a month, to gain
	A kingdom.
168
	Elder. Marry, you shall not be troubled.
170
	Lady. Why, was there ever such a Meg as this?
172	Sure, thou art mad.
174	Elder. I was mad once, when I loved pictures;
	For what are shape and colours else but pictures?
176	In that tawny hide there lies an endless mass
	Of virtues, when all your red and white ones want it.
178
	Lady. And this is she you are to marry, is't not?
180
	Elder. Yes, indeed, is't.
182
	Lady. God give you joy!
184
	Elder. Amen.
186
	Wel. I thank you, as unknown, for your good wish.
188	The like to you, whenever you shall wed.
190	Elder. Oh, gentle spirit!
192	Lady. You thank me! I pray,
	Keep your breath nearer you; I do not like it.
194
	Wel. I would not willingly offend at all;
196	Much less a lady of your worthy parts.
198	Elder. Sweet, sweet!
200	Lady. I do not think this woman can by nature
	Be thus, thus ugly: sure, she’s some common strumpet,
202	Deformed with exercise of sin.
204	Wel. [Kneeling] Oh, sir,
	Believe not this! for Heaven so comfort me,
206	As I am free from foul pollutiön
	With any man! my honour ta'en away,
208	I am no woman.
210	Elder. [Raising Welford]
	Arise, my dearest soul;
212	I do not credit it. − Alas, I fear
	Her tender heart will break with this reproach! −
214	Fie, that you know no more civility
	To a weak virgin! − 'Tis no matter, sweet;
216	Let her say what she will, thou art not worse
	To me, and therefore not at all; be careless.
218
	Wel. For all things else I would; but for mine honour,
220	Methinks −
222	Elder. Alas, thine honour is not stained!−
	Is this the business that you sent for me
224	About?
226	Mar. Faith, sister, you are much to blame
	To use a woman, whatsoe'er she be,
228	Thus. I'll salute her. − You are welcome hither.
230	[Kisses Welford.]
232	Wel. I humbly thank you.
234	Elder. Mild still as the dove,
	For all these injuries. Come, shall we go?
236	I love thee not so ill to keep thee here,
	A jesting-stock. − Adieu, to the world's end!
238
	Lady. Why, whither now?
240
	Elder. Nay, you shall never know.
242	Because you shall not find me.
244	Lady. I pray, let me speak with you.
246	Elder. 'Tis very well.− Come.
248	Lady. I pray you, let me speak with you.
250	Elder. Yes, for another mock.
252	Lady. By Heaven, I have no mocks: good sir, a word.
254	Elder. Though you deserve not so much at my hands,
	yet, if you be in such earnest, I’ll speak a word with
256	you: but, I beseech you, be brief; for, in good faith,
	there’s a parson and a license stay for us i' the church
258	all this while; and, you know, 'tis night.
260	Lady. Sir, give me hearing patiently, and whatsoever
	I have heretofore spoke jestingly, forget;
262	For, as I hope for mercy any where.
	What I shall utter now is from my heart,
264	And as I mean.
266	Elder. Well, well, what do you mean?
268	Lady. Was not I once your mistress, and you my servant?
270	Elder. Oh, 'tis about the old matter.
272	[Going.]
274	Lady. Nay, good sir, stay me out:
	I would but hear you excuse yourself,
276	Why you should take this woman, and leave me.
278	Elder. Prithee, why not? deserves she not as much
	As you?
280
	Lady. I think not, if you will look
282	With an indifferency upon us both.
284	Elder. Upon your faces, 'tis true; but if judicially we
	shall cast our eyes upon your minds, you are a thousand
286	women off her in worth. She cannot swound in jest, nor
	set her lover tasks, to shew her peevishness and his
288	affection; nor cross what he says, though it be
	canonical. She's a good plain wench, that will do as I
290	will have her, and bring me lusty boys, to throw the
	sledge, and lift at pigs of lead. And for a wife, she’s far
292	beyond you: what can you do in a household to provide
	for your issue, but lie a-bed and get 'em? your business
294	is to dress you, and at idle hours to eat; when she can do
	a thousand profitable things; − she can do pretty well in
296	the pastry, and knows how pullen should be crammed;
	she cuts cambric at a thread, weaves bone-lace, and
298	quilts balls: and what are you good for?
300	Lady. Admit it true, that she were far beyond me in
	all respects; does that give you a license to forswear
302	yourself?
304	Elder. Forswear myself! how?
306	Lady. Perhaps you have forgot the innumerable oaths
	you have uttered, in disclaiming all for wives but me:
308	I’ll not remember you. God give you joy!
310	Elder. Nay, but conceive me; the intent of oaths is
	ever understood. Admit I should protest to such a friend
312	to see him at his lodging to-morrow; divines would
	never hold me perjured, if I were struck blind, or he hid
314	him where my diligent search could not find him, so
	there were no cross act of mine own in 't. Can it be
316	imagined I meant to force you to marriage, and to have
	you, whether you will or no?
318
	Lady. Alas, you need not! I make already tender of
320	myself, and then you are forsworn.
322	Elder. Some sin, I see, indeed, must necessarily
	Fall upon me; as whosoever deals
324	With women shall never utterly avoid it.
	Yet I would choose the least ill, which is to
326	Forsake you, that have done me all the abuses
	Of a malignant woman, contemned my service,
328	And would have held me prating about marriage
	Till I had been past getting of children
330	Than her, that hath forsook her family,
	And put her tender body in my hand,
332	Upon my word.
334	Lady. Which of us swore you first to?
336	Elder. Why, to you.
338	Lady. Which oath is to be kept, then?
340	Elder. I prithee, do not urge my sins unto me,
	Without I could amend 'em.
342
	Lady. Why, you may,
344	By wedding me.
346	Elder. How will that satisfy
	My word to her?
348
	Lady. It is not to be kept,
350	And needs no satisfaction: 'tis an error
	Fit for repentance only.
352
	Elder. Shall I live
354	To wrong that tender-hearted virgin so?
	It may not be.
356
	Lady. Why may it not be?
358
	Elder. I swear I had rather marry thee than her;
360	But yet mine honesty −
362	Lady. What honesty?
	Tis more preserved this way. Come, by this light,
364	Servant, thou shalt: I’ll kiss thee on't.
366	Elder. This kiss,
	Indeed, is sweet: pray God, no sin lie under it!
368
	Lady. There is no sin at all; try but another.
370
	Wel. Oh, my heart!
372
	Mar. Help, sister! this lady swoons.
374
	Elder. How do you?
376
	Wel. Why, very well, if you be so.
378
	Elder. Such a quiet mind lives not in any woman.
380	I shall do a most ungodly thing.
	Hear me one word more, which, by all my hopes,
382	I will not alter. I did make an oath,
	When you delayed me so, that this very night
384	I would be married: now if you will go
	Without delay, suddenly, as late as it is,
386	With your own minister, to your own chapel,
	I’ll wed you, and to bed.
388
	Lady. A match, dear servant.
390
	Elder. For if you should forsake me now, I care not:
392	She would not though, for all her injuries;
	Such is her spirit. If I be not ashamed
394	To kiss her now I part, may I not live!
396	Wel. I see you go, as slyly as you think
	To steal away; yet I will pray for you:
398	All blessings of the world light on you two,
	That you may live to be an agèd pair!
400	All curses on me, if I do not speak
	What I do wish indeed!
402
	Elder. If I can speak
404	To purpose to her, I am a villain.
406	Lady. Servant, away!
408	Mar. Sister, will you marry that inconstant man?
	Think you he will not cast you off to-morrow?
410	To wrong a lady thus, looked she like dirt,
	'Twas basely done. May you ne'er prosper with him!
412
	Wel. Now God forbid!
414	Alas, I was unworthy! so I told him.
416	Mar. That was your modesty; too good for him. −
	I would not see your wedding for a world.
418
	Lady. Choose, choose. − Come, Younglove.
420
	[Exeunt Lady, Elder Loveless, and Abigail.]
422
	Mar. Dry up your eyes, forsooth; you shall not think
424	We are all uncivil, all such beasts as these.
	Would I knew how to give you a revenge!
426
	Wel. So would not I: no, let me suffer truly;
428	That I desire.
430	Mar. Pray, walk in with me;
	'Tis very late, and you shall stay all night:
432	Your bed shall be no worse than mine. I wish
	I could but do you right.
434
	Wel. My humble thanks:
436	God grant I may but live to quit your love!
438	[Exeunt.]
	ACT V, SCENE III.
	A Room in the House of Elder Loveless.
	Enter Young Loveless and Savil.
1	Young. Did your master send for me, Savil?
2
	Sav. Yes, he did send for your worship, sir.
4
	Young. Do you know the business?
6
	Sav. Alas, sir, I know nothing!
8	Nor am employed beyond my hours of eating.
	My dancing days are done, sir.
10
	Young. What art thou now, then?
12
	Sav. If you consider me in little, I
14	Am, with your worship’s reverence, sir, a rascal;
	One that, upon the next anger of your brother,
16	Must raise a sconce by the highway, and sell switches.
	My wife is learning now, sir, to weave inkle.
18
	Young. What dost thou mean to do with thy children, Savil?
20
	Sav. My eldest boy is half a rogue already;
22	He was born bursten; and, your worship knows,
	That is a pretty step to men's compassions.
24	My youngest boy I purpose, sir, to bind
	For ten years to a gaoler, to draw under him,
26	That he may shew us mercy in his function.
28	Young. Your family is quartered with discretion.
	You are resolved to cant, then? where, Savil,
30	Shall your scene lie?
32	Sav. Beggars must be no choosers;
	In every place, I take it, but the stocks.
34
	Young. This is your drinking and your whoring, Savil;
36	I told you of it; but your heart was hardened.
38	Sav. 'Tis true, you were the first that told me of it;
	I do remember yet in tears, you told me,
40	You would have whores; and in that passion, sir,
	You broke out thus; “Thou miserable man,
42	Repent, and brew three strikes more in a hogshead:
	Tis noon ere we be drunk now, and the time
44	Can tarry for no man.”
46	Young. You're grown a bitter gentleman. I see,
	Misery can clear your head better than mustard.
48	I’ll be a suitor for your keys again, sir.
50	Sav. Will you but be so gracious to me, sir,
	I shall be bound −
52
	Young. You shall, sir, to your bunch again;
54	Or I’ll miss foully.
56	Enter Morecraft.
58	More. Save you, gentlemen, save you!
60	Young. Now, polecat, what young rabbit's nest have you to draw?
62	More. Come, prithee, be familiar, knight.
64	Young. Away, fox!
	I’ll send for terriers for you.
66
	More. Thou art wide yet:
68	I’ll keep thee company.
70	Young. I am about some business.
	Indentures, if you follow me, I'll beat you:
72	Take heed; as I live, I'll cancel your coxcomb.
74	More. Thou art cozened now; I am no usurer.
	What poor fellow’s this?
76
	Sav. I am poor indeed, sir.
78
	More. Give him money, knight.
80
	Young. Do you begin the offering.
82
	More. There, poor fellow; here’s an angel for thee.
84
	Young. Art thou in earnest, Morecraft?
86
	More. Yes, faith, knight; I'll follow thy example:
88	Thou hadst land and thousands; thou spent'st,
	And flung'st away, and yet it flows in double:
90	I purchased, wrung, and wire-drawed for my wealth,
	Lost, and was cozened; for which I make a vow,
92	To try all the ways above ground, but I’ll find
	A constant means to riches without curses.
94
	Young. I am glad of your conversion, Master Morecraft:
96	You’re in a fair course; pray, pursue it still.
98	More. Come, we are all gallants now; I’ll keep thee company. −
	Here, honest fellow, for this gentleman's sake,
100	There's two angels more for thee.
102	Sav. God quit you, sir, and keep you long in this mind!
104	Young. Wilt thou perséver?
106	More. Till I have a penny.
	I have brave clothes a-making, and two horses:
108	Canst thou not help me to a match, knight?
	I’ll lay a thousand pound upon my crop-ear.
110
	Young. 'Foot, this is stranger than an Afric monster!
112	There will be no more talk of the Cleve wars
	Whilst this lasts. Come, I'll put thee into blood.
114
	Sav. [Aside]
116	Would all his darned tribe were as tender-hearted! −
	I beseech you, let this gentleman join with you
118	In the recovery of my keys; I like
	His good beginning, sir: the whilst, I'll pray
120	For both your worships.
122	Young. He shall, sir.
124	More. Shall we go, noble knight? I would fain be acquainted.
126	Young. I’ll be your servant, sir.
128	[Exeunt.]
	ACT V, SCENE IV.
	A Room in Lady's House.
	Enter Elder Loveless and Lady.
1	Elder. Faith, my sweet lady, I have caught you now,
2	Maugre your subtilties and fine devices.
	Be coy again now.
4
	Lady. Prithee, sweetheart, tell true.
6
	Elder. By this light,
8	By all the pleasures I have had this night,
	By your lost maiden-head, you are cozened merely;
10	I have cast beyond your wit: that gentlewoman
	Is your retainer Welford.
12
	Lady. It cannot be so.
14
	Elder. Your sister has found it so, or I mistake:
16	Mark how she blushes when you see her next.
	Ha, ha, ha! I shall not travel now; ha, ha, ha!
18
	Lady. Prithee, sweetheart,
20	Be quiet: thou hast angered me at heart.
22	Elder. I’ll please you soon again.
24	Lady. Welford!
26	Elder. Ay, Welford. He’s a young handsome fellow,
	Well-bred, and landed: your sister can instruct you
28	In his good parts better than I, by this time.
30	Lady. Ud's foot, am I fetched over thus?
32	Elder. Yes, i' faith;
	And over shall be fetched again, never fear it.
34
	Lady. I must be patient, though it torture me.
36	You have got the sun, sir.
38	Elder. And the moon too; in which I'll be the man.
40	Lady. But had I known this, had I but surmised it,
	You should have hunted three trains more, before
42	You had come to the course;
	You should have hanked o' the bridle, sir, i' faith.
44
	Elder. I knew it, and mined with you, and so blew you up.
46	Now you may see the gentlewoman: stand close.
48	[They retire.]
50	Enter Welford in his own apparel, and Martha.
52	Mar. For God's sake, sir, be private in this business;
	You have undone me else. Oh, God, what have I done?
54
	Wel. No harm, I warrant thee.
56
	Mar. How shall I look upon my friends again?
58	With what face?
60	Wel. Why, e'en with that;
	Tis a good one, thou canst not find a better.
62	Look upon all the faces thou shalt see there,
	And you shall find 'em smooth still, fair still, sweet still,
64	And, to your thinking, honest: those have done
	As much as you have yet, or dare do, mistress;
66	And yet they keep no stir.
68	Mar. Good sir, go in, and put your woman's clothes on:
	If you be seen thus, I am lost for ever.
70
	Wel. I’ll watch you for that, mistress; I am no fool:
72	Here will I tarry till the house be up,
	And witness with me.
74
	Mar. Good dear friend, go in!
76
	Wel. To bed again, if you please, else I am fixed here
78	Till there be notice taken what I am,
	And what I have done.
80	If you could juggle me into my womanhood again,
	And so cog me out of your company,
82	All this would be forsworn, and I again
	An asinego, as your sister left me.
84	No; I'll have it known and published: then,
	If you'll be a whore, forsake me, and be shamed;
86	And, when you can hold out no longer, marry
	Some cast Cleve captain, and sell bottle-ale.
88
	Mar. I dare not stay, sir: use me modestly;
90	I am your wife.
92	Wel. Go in; I’ll make up all.
94	[Exit Martha.]
96	Elder. [coming forward with Lady.]
	I’ll be a witness of your naked truth, sir. −
98	This is the gentlewoman; prithee, look upon him;
	This is he that made me break my faith, sweet;
100	But thank your sister, she hath soldered it.
102	Lady. What a dull ass was I, I could not see
	This wencher from a wench! Twenty to one,
104	If I had been but tender, like my sister,
	He had served me such a slippery trick too.
106
	Wel. Twenty to one I had.
108
	Elder. I would have watched you, sir, by your good patience,
110	For ferreting in my ground.
112	Lady. You have been with my sister?
114	Wel. Yes; to bring.
116	Elder. An heir into the world, he means.
118	Lady. There is no chafing now.
120	Wel. I have had my part on 't;
	I have been chafèd this three hours, that’s the least:
122	I am reasonable cool now.
124	Lady. Cannot you fare well, but you must cry roast meat?
126	Wel. He that fares well, and will not bless the founders,
	Is either surfeited, or ill taught, lady.
128	For mine own part, I have found so sweet a diet,
	I can commend it, though I cannot spare it.
130
	Elder. How like you this dish, Welford? I made a
132	supper on 't, and fed so heartly, I could not sleep.
134	Lady. By this light, had I but scented out your train,
	You had slept with a bare pillow in your arms,
136	And kissed that, or else the bed-post, for any wife
	You had got this twelvemonth yet: I would have vexed you
138	More than a tired post-horse, and been longer bearing
	Than ever after-game at Irish was.
140	Lord, that I were unmarrièd again!
142	Elder. Lady, I would not undertake you, were you
	Again a haggard, for the best cast of
144	Sore ladies i' the kingdom: you were ever
	Tickle-footed, and would not truss round.
146
	Wel. Is she fast?
148
	Elder. She was all night locked here, boy.
150
	Wel. Then you may lure her, without fear of losing:
152	Take off her cranes −
	You have a delicate gentlewoman to your sister:
154	Lord, what a pretty fury she was in,
	When she perceived I was a man!
156	But, I thank God, I satisfied her scruple,
	Without the parson o' the town.
158
	Elder. What did ye?
160
	Wel. Madam, can you tell what we did?
162
	Elder. She has a shrewd guess at it, I see by her.
164
	Lady. Well, you may mock us: but, my large gentlewoman,
166	My Mary Ambree, had I but seen into you,
	You should have had another bed-fellow,
168	Fitter a great deal for your itch.
170	Wel. I thank you, lady;
	Methought it was well. You are so curious!
172
	Elder. Get on your doublet; here comes my brother.
174
	Enter Young Loveless, his Lady, Morecraft,
176	Savil, and Serving-men.
178	Young. Good morrow, brother; and all good to your lady!
180	More. God save you, and good morrow to you all!
182	Elder. Good morrow. − Here’s a poor brother of yours.
184	Lady. Fie, how this shames me!
186	More. Prithee, good fellow, help me to a cup of beer.
188	1st Serv. I will, sir.
190	[Exit 1st Servant.]
192	Young. Brother, what make you here? will this lady do?
	Will she? is she not nettled still?
194
	Elder. No, I have cured her. −
196	Master Welford, pray, know this gentleman; he is my brother.
198	Wel. Sir, I shall long to love him.
200	Young. I shall not be your debtor, sir. − But how is't
	with you?
202
	Elder. As well as may be, man: I am married.
204	Your new acquaintance hath her sister; and all’s well,
206	Young. I am glad on't. − Now, my pretty lady sister,
	How do you find my brother?
208
	Lady. Almost as wild as you are.
210
	Young. He'll make the better husband: you have tried him?
212
	Lady. Against my will, sir.
214
	Young. He'll make your will amends soon, do not doubt it. −
216	But, sir, I must entreat you to be better known
	To this converted Jew here.
218
	Re-enter First Serving-man, with beer.
220
	1st Serv. Here’s beer for you, sir.
222
	More. And here's for you an angel.
224	Pray, buy no land; 'twill never prosper, sir.
226	Elder. How’s this?
228	Young. Bless you, and then I’ll tell. He’s turned gallant.
230	Elder. Gallant!
232	Young. Ay, gallant, and is now called Cutting Morecraft:
	The reason I’ll inform you at more leisure.
234
	Wel. Oh, good sir, let me know him presently.
236
	Young. You shall hug one another.
238
	More. Sir, I must keep
240	You company.
242	Elder. And reason.
244	Young. Cutting Morecraft,
	Faces about; I must present another.
246
	More. As many as you will, sir; I am for 'em.
248
	Wel. Sir, I shall do you service.
250
	More. I shall look for 't, in good faith, sir.
252
	Elder. Prithee, good sweetheart, kiss him.
254
	Lady. Who? that fellow!
256
	Sav. Sir, will it please you to remember me?
258	My keys, good sir!
260	Young. I'll do it presently.
262	Elder. Come, thou shalt kiss him for our sport-sake.
264	Lady. Let him come on, then; and, do you hear, do not
	Instruct me in these tricks, for you may repent it.
266
	Elder. That at my peril. − Lusty Master Morecraft,
268	Here is a lady would salute you.
270	More. She shall not lose her longing, sir. What is she?
272	Elder. My wife, sir.
274	More. She must be, then, my mistress.
276	[Kisses her.]
278	Lady. Must I, sir?
280	Elder. Oh, yes, you must.
282	More. And you must take
	This ring, a poor pawn of some fifty pound.
284
	Elder. Take it, by any means; 'tis lawful prize.
286
	Lady. Sir, I shall call you servant.
288
	More. I shall be proud on 't. − What fellow's that?
290
	Young. My lady's coachman.
292
	More. There’s something, my friend, for you to buy
294	whips; and for you, sir; and you, sir.
296	[Gives money to the Servants.]
298	Elder. Under a miracle, this is the strangest
	I ever heard of.
300
	More. What, shall we play, or drink? what shall we do?
302	Who will hunt with me for a hundred pounds?
304	Wel. Stranger and stranger! − Sir, you shall find sport
	After a day or two.
306
	Young. Sir, I have a suit unto you,
308	Concerning your old servant Savil.
310	Elder. Oh, for his keys; I know it.
312	Sav. Now, sir, strike in.
314	More. Sir, I must have you grant me.
316	Elder. 'Tis done, sir. − Take your keys again:
	But hark you, Savil; leave off the motions
318	Of the flesh, and be honest, or else you shall graze again;
	I'll try you once more.
320
	Sav. If ever I be taken drunk or whoring,
322	Take off the biggest key i' the bunch, and open
	My head with it, sir. − I humbly thank your worships.
324
	Elder. Nay, then, I see we must keep holiday:
326
	Enter Roger and Abigail.
328
	Here's the last couple in hell.
330
	Roger. Joy be amongst you all!
332
	Lady. Why, how now, sir,
334	What is the meaning of this emblem?
336	Roger. Marriage,
	An 't like your worship.
338
	Lady. Are you marrièd?
340
	Roger. As well as the next priest could do it, madam.
342
	Elder. I think the sign’s in Gemini, here’s such coupling.
344
	Wel. Sir Roger, what will you take to lie from your
346	sweet-heart to-night?
348	Roger. Not the best benefice in your worship's gift, sir.
350	Wel. A whoreson, how he swells!
352	Young. How many times to-night, Sir Roger?
354	Roger. Sir, you grow scurrilous. What I shall do, I
	shall do: I shall not need your help.
356
	Young. For horse-flesh, Roger.
358
	Elder. Come, prithee, be not angry; 'tis a day
360	Given wholly to our mirth.
362	Lady. It shall be so, sir.
	Sir Roger and his bride we shall entreat
364	To be at our charge.
366	Elder. Welford, get you to the church:
	By this light you shall not lie with her again
368	Till y’ are married.
370	Wel. I am gone.
372	More. To every bride I dedicate, this day,
	Six healths a-piece; and it shall go hard,
374	But every one a jewèl. Come, be mad, boys!
376	Elder. Thou'rt in a good beginning. − Come, who leads? −
	Sir Roger, you shall have the van: lead the way.
378	Would every doggèd wench had such a day!
380	[Exeunt.]
	FINIS.