Richard Brome Online

ACT THREE

3.1*

[Enter] FRANCIS [and] WAT.*

418FrancesI shall repent me, sir, that e’er I yielded

In that fair noble way, if you express

Yourself in this regardless† of my honour.

419WatAye, like a whore, with all my heart,* that talks

So like an honest† woman.

420FrancesCan you expect

A chaste and constant wife of her whom you

Have wrought† to lewdness† before marriage?

Or may I not deserve* as well in bringing

A maidenhead† into your marriage-bed,

As a polluted† body?

421WatHere’s a coil

For a poor† bit† aforehand!† Is it so?

Heart!† If a man bespeak† a tavern feast*

For next-day dinner,* and give earnest† for’t

To half the value* – as my faith and troth,†

I think, is somewhat towards your marriage payment* –

To be tomorrow,* will not the hostess* give him

A modicum† o’ernight to stay his stomach?*

Your father comes; I’ll whisper yet more reason.†

Enter DRYGROUND disguised* [with] ALICE.*

422DrygroundNow, pretty Mistress* Alice, you see the end†

I had upon† you, all the scope† thereof

Tending† to your contentment.† Are you pleased?

423AliceSo well, that could I but shake off the fear

(Which is most dangerous) of a father’s curse,*

I durst† pronounce, nay, boast my happiness

To be above my virgin† hopes or wishes.

424DrygroundLet your fear vanish then. And if this night*

The happiness you are ambitious of,*

Together with your father’s leave† and blessing,

Crown† not your bed, let all the infamy

Due to all perjured wretches* that have wronged

Beauty and chastity be branded here.*

425AliceThe fair respect† I have, sir, to your noblesse,†

For what you have already shown me, bars

Mine ears ’gainst† protestation.* I dare† trust you.

426DrygroundAs I have trusted you with my whole project,†

My discreet† Alice, further than I dare trust

My instrument† your brother, though he thinks

He understands it all. Yonder he is,

Profoundly† love-struck† too, I make no doubt.

427[Frances]*Fie! Can you be so lewd? Is that your reason?

428WatYes; can the parish parson give you better?

429FrancesHis parish bull’s as civil.†

430WatWell, no more.

I’ll talk with your father about it.

431FrancesI with your sister, and to better purpose.*

432DrygroundNow, Wat, what think you of my course† and habit?†

433WatAs I love mischief, and desire to live by’t,†

It is the daintiest† course! O brave† sir Humphrey,

How I am taken with your shape!† Old Osbright,

The father of the swingers,† so much talked on,†

Could ne’er ha’† borne it up so.* Nor his daughter,

That was French-born indeed, could e’er have clipped†

And Frenchified† our English better than

She counterfeits† to coxcombs† that do court† her,

With her fine ‘Fee! Fee!’s,* and her ‘Laisse-moi!’s,*

Her ‘Pre’ away!’s,* ‘Intrat-a you mak-a me blush-a’.*

Oh, I am tickled† with it!

434DrygroundAh ha, my lad!

435Wat’Slid!† I could dote upon* you! Had I been

Your son now, how I could have honoured you!

Though I had kept a precept† by’t I care not.*

436DrygroundNotable† reprobate.†

437WatThe Devil sure

Wrought* me a mischief* when he enabled that

Old wretch,† my father to beget† me. Oh,

’Tis in my bones;* I feel it in my youth.†

I know from whence the pox† is now descended;

The gout† begets it.* There’s no usurer’s son

But ’s* born with an hereditary spice† on’t.

438DrygroundHad I raked limbo,† as I did the compter,†

I were not better fitted† with a copesmate.†

439Wat’Slight!† I could ask you blessing.*

440DrygroundAnd I think,

That courtesy† you have seldom done your father.

441WatNe’er since I grew to any understanding,*

Nor (as I know) before, but whipped and held† to’t.† *

442DrygroundWell, Wat, you see how far I have trusted you

To have the second hand† in our great work,

Our project here. Though you must seem my servant,

You are like to have the better share, if you agree

Upon the match,† and make yourself my son.

How like you your new mistress, sir, my daughter,

The maidenhead here, the new ordinary† –

The demoiselle,* or what you please to call her?

What, is’t a match, Wat? Condescendeth she?*

443WatNo man shall be her husband but myself,

Whoe’er† she lies withal,† before or after,*

That she has roundly† promised. But she baulks†

And boggles† with me in a less† request.

444DrygroundShe shall deny thee nothing. What is’t Wat?

445WatYou may command her duty, if you please.

446DrygroundWhat is it, man?

447Wat’Troth, sir, but one night’s knowledge†

Of her aforehand.† One word of your mouth

I know would do it, sir.

448DrygroundO devilish rascal

That can imagine this a father’s office!†

Patience, good Wat.

449WatBut that I am afeard† *

My father would be pleased with ’t, I’d take home

My sister else, and presently.†

450DrygroundIn, maids,† about your work. And hear you, Frank,*

Discharge the butcher’s and the chandler’s† bills.

They wait below. The baker and the brewer

I have made even with.

451FrancesAnd the vintner† too.

452DrygroundThe bottle-man† too, and tobacco-merchant.†

Do as I bid you, go.[FRANCES and JANE exit.]

Now, Wat, observe me

As an ingenious critic* would observe

The first scene of a comedy, for fear

He lose the plot.

453WatI do observe you, sir.

454DrygroundI have, you know, released you from* your thraldom†

Upon condition* you should steal your sister

To be at my dispose.* You have performed it.*

455WatHonestly,† sir.

456DrygroundYes, honestly, as you say,

And though it be for her own absolute† good,

Yet was your act so grateful† to me that

I promised you my daughter.

457WatRight sir, on.

458DrygroundI shall be brief. You know my fortunes,* Wat,

Are sunk,† and you have heard, I make no doubt,*

’Mongst† other of my follies, of a child

I got† on Brookall’s sister on the by,* Wat.

459WatAnd this is she. I love a bastard naturally;

Ah, they* are bouncing† spirits!† Now I love her

More than I did, sir.

460DrygroundYou come fairly on.*

But now my poverty affords no portion;†

Now, Wat, to raise a portion!

461WatAye,* now, now!

462DrygroundNow I come to it, Wat. I took this house,

And in this habit† here turned pimping† host,

To make the most of her,* and find a husband

To take her with all faults.

463WatThat’s I, that’s I, sir. This has music in’t.*

464DrygroundYou will be secret,* Wat.

465WatNo dumb bawd* like me.

466DrygroundNay, in a plot of villainy I dare trust thee.

467WatIn troth† you cannot think how much I love it,

How I am tickled† with it! Good sir, on.

468DrygroundThis I have designed to put her off –*

I mean her maidenhead – at such a rate†

Shall purchase land.

469WatHow, good Sir Humphrey, how?

470DrygroundShe shall be rifled† for.

471WatHow! Rifled, sir?

472DrygroundYes, rifled Wat; the most at three fair† throws,

With three fair† dice, must win and wear* her, Wat.

You’ll take her with all faults?†

473WatCan you suspect me?

It is the rarest† invention, if the gamesters†

Be stiff† and straight,† that ever was projected!†

What is’t a man?

474DrygroundBut twenty pieces,* boy.

475WatI vow* too little, less† their number* help us.

How many gamesters have you?

476DrygroundA full hundred.

477WatTwo thousand pound!* A merry† portion,

And worth as many maidenheads in the sport

A man shall find in spending it! Methinks*

I feel myself even† flying† with ’t already!

478DrygroundWhat art thou thinking, Wat?

479WatThat here may grow

A danger, sir, the gamesters being so many.

480DrygroundWhy, there’s but one must use† her.

481WatPhew!

For that

I were indifferent,† if ’twere all or more—

As it is possible a wench might bear it—

If they come single, and in civil sort,*

Allow her breathing-whiles—†*

482DrygroundHere’s a ripe† rascal!

483WatBut my doubt is that such a multitude

May fly into combustion,† blow up† all

The business† and our hopes.

484DrygroundNow your doubt

Reflects upon my judgement: didst thou note

How quietly those gallants here today

Parted with their gold?

485WatYes, very gallantly.†

486DrygroundThey shall agree† as well† for the commodity,

As I have cast† it, Wat, so well, my boy,

That no distaste shall be or ta’en,† or given.

Anon† you’ll see.

487WatShe knows not on’t† you say.

488DrygroundNor shall she, Wat, till at the push* I charge† her

To be obedient in the undertaking.†

489WatAnd that’s a sweet† obedience. I could kneel*

Before my wretched sire in such commands.*

Enter FRANCES.*

490DrygroundAnon† I’ll make ’t† all plain† to you. How now,† Frank?

491FrancesThere are two gentlemen in the next room,

That by all means* would speak with you. I have had

The foulest coil†* with one of ’em, that persuades

Himself you keep a bawdy-house,† by somewhat†

He gathered† eavesdropping by your discourse here

While t’other held me talking, who is civil,†

And loves me with a modest† fair affection.

492DrygroundWhere is his sister, Alice?

493FrancesUnseen, I warrant† you.

494DrygroundThen let them enter. Whip† into your disguise,* Wat,FRAN[CES] [exits].

And be at call.†

495WatPresto!† Anon,† anon, sir.WAT [exits].*

496DrygroundDid they eavesdrop me? I will eavesdrop too.Stands aside.*

Enter OLIVER [and] AMBROSE.*

497OliverDid not I tell thee ’twas a bawdy-house?

498AmbroseI cannot think so yet; there is some other

Trick† in it. The maid you see is very modest.

499OliverThat is the trick† on it, man, she must seem so.

Her father deals† for her.

500AmbroseFie!† Can there be such fathers?

501OliverYes, and such mothers too: the town’s too full of ’em.*

Come, she’s a juggling† whore I warrant† thee,

For all her ‘fee! fee!’s,* and her ‘laisse-moi!’s.*

Pox of† her counterfeit† gibb’rish!† I’ll make her speak

In plainer English* ere I ha’ done with her.

502DrygroundI have enough.* [To OLIVER and AMBROSE] You are welcome, gentlemen.

503Oliver [To AMBROSE] He looks like such a blade.† [To DRYGROUND] Are you the master here, sir?

504DrygroundI am the man* that’s much rejoiced to see

Such sparkling† spirits† underneath this roof,

Where all you find is yours. Sirrah† varlet!†

505OliverEach syllable he speaks bewrays† him.

506DrygroundVarlet, I say!

507WatHere, sir.

Enter WAT with wine.

508DrygroundGive me the compliment.† Gallants,

Wilt please you taste your welcome in a cup,

The spirit of whose never-dying† liquor,

Speaks o’er the brim* in this high† language to you?

Full six and thirty times hath Luna† waned

The strength she got in six and thirty growths

From Phoebus’† virtuous beams, into this juice,*

To make it nectar† for Phoebean† wits.

’Tis this inspires their brains with fire divine,*

By which to write high† strains,† and herein lurks†

The gift one has to bounce up† his own works.†

509OliverYour meaning is good sack,† and three years old.

To put you by your beverage† and your bombast,†

I will nor drink, nor talk* of other thing,

But the choice thing† of things,* your daughter, sir.

510Dryground [Sings.*] ‘Thou shalt not woo my daughter,* nor ne† man for thy sake,

Unlass† thou come until† her by† her daddy naked.’†

Her mammy’s† gone to Heaven, sir, and I pray*

Let fathers poor breed daughters as they may.*

511OliverYour care, no doubt, is great. What will it hold?*

The rifling, sir, I mean. Is your number† full?

May not a man put in,† sir, for a chance?†

512DrygroundWhat do you mean, sir?

513OliverMay not we

Come in* adventurers?† Here are twenty pieces.

514DrygroundI find you have overheard me.* [To WAT] Call my daughter.Exit Wat

Now I’ll disclose† a secret to you. But gentlemen,

As you love wit and mirth,* censure† me mildly;†

I am a gentleman decayed† in fortune.

515OliverAnd canst thou be so base† to sell thy child

To lust and impudence?†

516DrygroundBe not too rash.†

My child’s as dear in my respect† as you

Were ever to your father.

517AmbroseDevil, thou liest—Draw[s his sword].*

518OliverNay, hold, good Ambrose; you e’en† now were angry

With me, that did oppose your fair† construction

Of this good gentleman and his virtuous daughter.*

519AmbroseMy ignorance wronged us both.*

520OliverGood modest Ambrose,

What do you think of this discovery?†

521DrygroundYou had discovered more if his impatience†

Had not prevented† me. But now I am dumb to you

In all but this: if you’ll be pleased to sup† here,

I shall afford† you welcome. I have business.†[DRYGROUND] exit[s].*

522OliverWhat can we make of this?

523AmbroseI know what to do.

If city justice,* grave† authority,

Protect it not, I’ll surely spoil the sport.

524OliverCanst thou be so malicious, that but now

Didst love this wench† so dearly, as to run her

Into the hazard† of correction?

Stay. Here she comes, and the pimp whiskin†* with her.

Enter WAT [and] FRAN[CES].*

Do thou take him in hand.* I’ll handle† her.

[To FRANCES] Now, madam, twenty pound a man! Nay, do not

Coy it* too much! Your provident† father left us

To make ourselves more known to you,

as your price*

Is known to us already. Look upon us.

525FrancesPre’ ye† sir, have you been ever in France?

526OliverIn France? No surely, nor in doctor’s hands*

Since I was placket-high.* Why ask you, lady?

527FrancesFor, if you could speak Fransh,* I could the better

Find what you say.* I can no* understand

What ’tis you mean by price. What is that price,

If it be no Welsh gentleman?*

528OliverI mean

The price of three throws for your maidenhead:

’Tis twenty pieces. If I win it (hark you†)

What will you give me out of your gross sum*

To take it neatly off,* and like an operator†

Put you to* no pain?

529FrancesParlez français Monsieur, je vous prie.**

530OliverThou art a handsome† hypocrite, and this

Cunning becomes† thee well. I’ll kiss thee for’t.

531FrancesFee, fee,* Monsieur! Oh, fee! ’Tis no good fashion*

For the young man and maid to noting but kiss!**

532Oliver’Tis not so good indeed. Nothing but kiss!*

A little of t’one with t’other* will do well.

533FrancesFee, fee, you no understand.* That gentleman,

Speaks he no Fransh?*

534OliverYes, yes, he speaks no French.*

535FrancesHeh!† Monsieur, vous moquez de moi.**

536OliverOui, par ma foi.

537FrancesHa!† Monsieur, vous parlez français.* Je suis bien aisée.**

538OliverEasy!* Yes, yes, I think you would be easy

To one that knew but how to manage† you,

For all the boast of your virginity.

539FrancesExcuse me, sir, I can no understand.

540OliverMethinks you should. Come, prithee,† leave this fooling,†

I know you can† good English if you list.†

541FrancesIndeed I can.

But, in my best,* and all,

I cannot understand you, sir, nor frame†

An answer to your rudeness. When you know me

Better, you’ll speak in better phrase,† and then

’Tis like you may find better language from me.

Till when, pray give me leave to leave you, sir.

542OliverNay, hark you,† lady, hark you! [Aside*] Still more mystical!†

[Aloud ] Nay, since you can speak English, I must talk w’ ye.†

543FrancesSo† you’ll be civil.†

544OliverCivil, I swear, and private.†They go aside.

545AmbroseDoes she not know on’t,†

say’st thou?

546WatNo, sir, no,

Not the least inkling† of it. The old man

Carries† it so discreetly.

547AmbroseBless me Heaven!

Discreetly, say’st thou? To betray his child

To sale of her virginity?

548WatYes, discreetly.

She dreams of no such business, such intent,

No more than the cud-chewing† heifer† knows

The butcher that must knock her down,* i’faith.

Oh, ’twill be bravely† carried!† I myself

Knew nothing till this hour, though I saw

Money put in his hand by divers† gallants,

Men of great place* and worship,† which I gather†

Are to be of the riflers.*

549AmbrosePrithee,† who?

550WatAll must be nameless.† There are lords among ’em.

And some of civil† coat,* that love to draw

New stakes at the old game† * as well as they;

Truckle-breeched* justices,† and bustling† lawyers

That thrust† in with their motions;† muffled† citizens;

Old money-masters† some that seek the purchase;

And merchant venturers† that bid for the

Foreign commodity* as fair† as any.

551AmbroseWas ever such an outrage!† Hark thee,† fellow—They [talk] aside.*

552FrancesSir, I have heard you

with that patience

(And with no better) as the troubled† pilot†

Endures a tempest or contrary† winds,

Who, finding ne’ertheless† his tackling† sure,†

His vessel tight,† and sea-room† round about him,

Plays with the waves, and vies† his confidence

Above the blasts of Fortune, till he wins

His way through all her threat’nings† to his port.

You may apply† this.

553OliverAnd you may be plainer.†

Is there not such a project for your maidenhead?†

554FrancesIt deserves no answer.

But to be rid of you, together with

The devil that inflamed† you to that question,

Know, that knew I of such a plot or project,

Or that I had a father (as injuriously

You have suggested) could be so inhumane

To prostitute my spotless† virgin honour

To lust* for salary,† I would as sure prevent it,

As there is force in poison, cord, or steel,

At price of both our lives.* Sir, I have said.*[FRANCES] exit[s].*

555OliverThis wench† amazes me. Could I believe now

There could be truth† in woman, I could love her.

556Ambrose [To WAT] Well, I’ll make one.* Meet me here two hours hence,

And fetch my twenty pieces.

557WatI will not fail you. In the Temple Walks.[WAT] exit[s].*

558AmbroseWhere, if I fit† you not—

559OliverNam!† What discovery?

560AmbroseA villany enough to blow the house up.*

561OliverAnd I have found (I think) a virtue that

Might save a city.* But let’s hence.* We may

Confer our notes together by the way.*[They] ex[it.]*

3.2

[Enter] BUMPSEY, MAGDALEN, [and] JANE, all in brave† clothes.**

562BumpseyNay, nay, I know he is flown out,* and I

Am prettily† provided for like flight,*

And if I do not pitch† as high, and souse†

As deep as he, while there is game to fly at—*

Five hundred pieces* he took out,* you say?

563JaneAnd said he would venture† ’t at the ordinary.†

564BumpseyThat’s he, that’s he!* Why, this is excellent.

565MagdalenThis was your folly, Bump. He was content

To have walked moneyless, you saw, but you

Would force him. At a word† you did, la,† Bump.

566BumpseyI force him, ha?†

567MagdalenAye,* at a word, you put it in his head,

And put the sword into the madman’s hand,*

As one would say.*

568BumpseyGood Mistress At-a-Word,*

Let not your fine French frippery,†* which I bought,

Turned o’th’* tailor’s hands (as one would say),*

Huffle† you up to sovereignty.† Nor your coach,*

Which I have but bespoke,† whirl† you away,

Before ’tis finished, from obedience.

569MagdalenGood lack!† Fine gentleman, that wears the purchase

Of a pawned forfeiture. Must I not speak, trow?† *

570BumpseyExcellent Magdalen!*

571MagdalenSir, I will speak, and be allowed to speak.

572BumpseyAnd speak allowed,† too, will you, Magdalen?

573MagdalenAye,* at a word; since you have put me to’t,*

I will uphold† the fashion, learn and practise

Behaviour† and carriage† above my ’parel.† *

Aye,* at a word, I will, la, that I will.

574BumpseyThis is most excellent! My old beast† is

Infected with the fashions: fashion-sick!†

Pray, Ma-dame,* take your course,† uphold your fashion,

And learn and practise carriage to* your clothes.

I will maintain my humour,† though all split by’t.*

Enter [SECOND] SERVANT.*

575[Second] Servant.Master Vermin desires to speak with you.

576BumpseyI’faith, I will. Ma-dame.*[BUMPSEY] exit[s] with [SECOND] SERVANT.*

577JaneMy husband, mother,

Reports of a rare† creature† come to town,

Of a French breed,* a demoiselle,† that professeth†

The teaching of court-carriage† and behaviour.

The rarest he says—

578MagdalenCan she teach the elder sort?†

579JaneAll ages from six years to sixty-six.

Unless they be indocible† he says.

580MagdalenIndocible! What’s that?

581JaneStiff i’ the hams,†* I think.

582MagdalenNay, then we’ll to her.

I can yet bow my haunches,† come and go

With them as nimbly as the barren doe.*

My gimbals† don’t complain for want of oil yet.*

We’ll have this madame;* and we will be madames*

Ourselves, or it shall cost us each a crown†

A month the teaching. In a month we may,

Practising but one hour in a day,

Be madames, may we not?

583JaneYes, if we give our minds to’t, and but steal

Fit times to practise.

584MagdalenWe’ll find lecture† times,

Or baulk† Saint Antlins* for’t the while. But mum.†

Enter BUMPSEY [and] VERMIN.*

585BumpseyDo you wonder at my bravery?† Look you here:

This is my wife, and this my daughter, sir.

You have lost yours, you say, perhaps for want

Of hufty-tufties,† and of gorgets† gay.†

Ha! Is’t not so?

586VerminThe world’s turned prodigal!†

You do not well* to mock me when I come

For comfort† and advice.

587BumpseyShall I be plain w’ ye?

My best advice is, since your daughter’s gone

To turn your son after her. He lies not in*

For much above a hundred pound. Pay it,

And let him take his course,* if he be not

Got loose already. Then (observe my counsel)

Spend you the rest of your estate yourself

And save your heirs the sin.* It is the course

I have in hand† and mean to follow it.

You like it not (it seems)* but thus it is

When men advise for nothing; had your lawyer

Now, for his fee, given counsel might have damned you,

You would have thought it worth your gold, and followed it.

Will you go with me to an ordinary?†

Venture five hundred or a thousand pieces*

To begin a new world with?

588VerminMistress Bumpsey, I take it you are she.

589Magdalen [Aside] An old ape has an old eye;*

He knows me through all my cuts and slashes.*

590VerminHow long, I pray, has my good friend your husband

Been thus distracted?†

591MagdalenBut when I am perfect†

In the quaint† courtly carriages† that belong

Unto this habit, in which, I confess,

I am yet but raw,† how will you know me then?

592VerminShe is as mad as he.

593BumpseyHow ladylike she talks!*

594MagdalenOr, now my black bag’s on,*

A black bag seems to have been a item of head-gear which could function as a veil, like those worn in one of Hollar’s engravings in Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus or The Several Habits of English Women, From the Nobility to the Country Woman, as They are in These Times (London, 1640) or the picture of Tanakin Skinker on the titlepage of A Certain Relation of the Hog-Faced Gentlewoman Called Mistress Tanakin Skinker (London, 1640) [IMAGEDM_3_1]. Within the text itself, the author comments, ‘One thinks with himself, so the body be handsome, though her countenance be never so course and ugly, all are alike in the night; and in the day time, put her head but in a black bag, and what difference betwixt her and another woman?’ (sig. B1v). The fashionable status of the garment in the late 1630s and 1640s is suggested in Henry Neville, A Parliament of Ladies (London, 1647): ‘“why, what dost thou long for?”, said my husband. “For that”, quoth I, “which is beyond your reach, iwis: silk gown and satin petticoat of the fashion, an Italian cut-work handkerchief, and a black bag, with all the appurtenances thereto belonging”’ (sig. B2r). The earliest reference that I have been able to find is in a description of French women in John Taylor’s The Complaint of Christmas, and the Tears of Twelfthtide (London, 1631): ‘The women were well-faced creatures, but like our melancholy gentlemen, who are in danger of a man-catching sergeant, they seemed afraid to show their faces, and therefore they hid their heads in black bags, like lawyers’ declarations; the difference is that the lady’s bag is silk, and the lawyer’s buckram’ (p. 5; sig. B3r). The fashion seems originally to have been French, and it spread to England in the early 1630s. It is also mocked in The New Academy [NA 1.1.speech 141]. (A black bag is also mentioned in Dekker, Ford and Rowley, The Witch of Edmonton, first performed by Prince Charles’s Men in 1621, but it is possible that this is a later interpolation, since the play was not printed until 1658.) Magdalen probably puts the black bag over her head as she says this, removing it again when she says ‘Boo!’ in the next line. I hold† a penny

You do not know me. Boo! Who am I now?

595VerminMost unrecoverably† mad! Young gentlewoman—

Nay, I entreat your favour† for an answer—

As you can pity a wronged man’s distress,

Give me what light† you can of my lost daughter.

You have been inward† always, and partook†

The nearest† of her counsels. Tell me fairly.

I do beseech you in this gentle way,

Though I profess† I have a strong presumption†

Against your husband and his young associates†

I met today, and bore their mocks and taunts,

On which I have good ground† for a strict† course†

To force ’em to examination.†

Yet I entreat, you see.

596JaneThe world is turned

Quite upside down, else I should wonder

How you could make requests, that have got all

You have (too much) by rapine† and oppression.†

597VerminDo you upbraid† me?

598BumpseyWhat’s the matter, Jane?

599JaneThe fox here learns to sing.*

600MagdalenI’ll fox† him out o’th’ hole if he sing here.

Will no prey serve you but new married wives, fox?*

601VerminWhy do you abuse me thus?

602JaneI heard you, sir, with too much patience,

Abuse my husband with your foul suspicion,

Who is as clear,† I know, from wronging you

As your own son.

603VerminYour mocks† are monstrous.

Were not he fast† enough I would resolve

No other friend† had robbed me.

604MagdalenIs your son a friend?† At a word, he’s like you.

Enter Sir AMPHILUS [and SECOND] SERVANT.*

605Amphilus [To [SECOND] SERVANT] I pray, if my man ask for me, send him to me, by your master’s leave. [To BUMPSEY] By your leave, sir, I made bold to follow* a father-in-law of mine that should have been into your house here, with much ado† to find it. Any good news, sir, yet? Ha’ you heard of her? I cry† these ladies’ mercy.* Though you may take me for a clown, I must not forget I am a knight, and give you the courtesy of my lips—*

606BumpseyIn the name of peasantry,† what knight art thou,

If not the Knight of the Ploughshare?†**

607MagdalenA fine spoken, and a well-bred man, at a word. He called us ladies. To see what apparel can do! How long might I have trudged about in my old coats† before I had been a lady? And then he would do us the courtesy to kiss us! Sure, sure, as courtesy makes a knight, so clothes makes a lady.*

608AmphilusIt seems she’s lost, then. All ill† go with her.

609BumpseyWhat old* youth can this be?

610AmphilusYour warrant, perhaps, may find her though. And I tell you what, I ha’ sent my man to lay† the ducking ponds for her.

611BumpseyDo you think she would drown herself?

612AmphilusWho knows what toy† might take her? Is she not a woman, as other flesh and blood is? I had another occasion to one that belongs to* the ponds; I tell you as a friend, I had not sent else.* Come, father-in-law that should have been; hang sorrow.* You have had but one loss today. I have had two. I’ll gi’t you in rhyme:

My mare and my mistress I lost on a day,

T’one of ’em died, and t’other ran away.

613JaneYou are acquainted among* the poets it seems, sir?

614AmphilusTruly, but one that’s a gamester† amongst us at the ducking-pond: a cobbler,† but the neatest† fellow at poetry that ever was handicraftsman† and no scholar, to enable him by learning to borrow of the ancients.* Yet he is a translator too. And he makes the sweetest posies† for privy† houses.

615JaneHa, ha, ha!

616BumpseyWhat a youth’s this for a knight!*

Enter TREBASCO.

617AmphilusI’ll tell ye ladies— Oh, Trebasco! Good news at last, I hope.

618TrebascoI can never find you anywhere, but jeered and laughed at, and are fooled, (as I have often told you) to your worship’s face, and your worship perceives it not.

619AmphilusTo the point,* man. How does my whelp?† He is grown a tall† dog by this, I hope; resolve† me quickly.

620TrebascoWhy, to put you out of your pain,† your whelp’s grown a tall dog.

621AmphilusGood.

622JaneYou said you would tell us, sir; what will you tell us?

623TrebascoAnd a handsome† dog.

624AmphilusGood again.

625JaneWhat a dog-trick*† is this?*

626TrebascoAnd h’as learnt, besides the main game,* all the rare† tricks† and qualities† his tutor could teach.

627AmphilusExcellent.

628JaneWill you not tell us, sir, about your poet?

629AmphilusHang him, my dog’s worth ’em all in ready† money.

630MagdalenI pray, sir.

631AmphilusI will not give his ears for the swoln’st headful of wit* among ’em. Are not his ears finely curled, Trebasco? Like his dam,† Flaps’s.*

632TrebascoYes, and his coat all over, sir, they told me.*

633AmphilusTold thee! Didst thou not see him? My heart misgives me.*

634TrebascoSee him? No indeed, sir, but I pray bear it as well as you may, and set not your heart too much upon transportable† things.

635AmphilusHa!†

636TrebascoThe dog is gone, sir.

637AmphilusHow!†

638TrebascoStol’n from school, sir, and sold to a great Monsieur,* and shipped away four days ago.

639AmphilusOh, my heart will break!

640JaneDo not faint, knight; cheer up your heart with your muse.†

641AmphilusMy vein† is yet too dull,† but I will offer at† it:

Three losses I have had; gone, past all help

My mare, my mistress, and (which grieves me most of all) my whelp.

642JaneThat line is long enough to reach him.*

643AmphilusI would it were else.* Oh!

644Bumpsey’Od’s pity!† Look you, sir, your son-in-law, that should ha’ been, is in much passion too. But you’ll be ruled by me, you say, and if I lead you not to comfort, never trust neighbour’s counsel while you live. Is not this plain enough? My own case† at this time is as dangerous† as yours.

645VerminThat’s all that comforts me.

646BumpseyNeighbourly said, I thank you. Come, sir, will you join with your father-in-law that should ha’ been and me in a cup of wine

To order a design.*

647TrebascoThere’s a reckoning towards.

648BumpseyIt shall cost you nothing.

649AmphilusTo the next tavern then. Ladies adieu.

To part with such as you to some are crosses,†

Yet I’ll not put you down among my losses.[They] ex[it].*

650MagdalenDaughter,

While they are gone, let us fall on our project.

651JaneFor courtly carriage and behaviour.

652MagdalenI long to see this French young schoolmistress.

The damasin,* do you call her?

653JaneThe demoiselle. I’ll wait on you.[They] exit.*

Edited by Lucy Munro