ACT TWO*
2.1
[Enter] ALICIA, LADY [Thrivewell], Servingman, [and] Apprentice*.

194AliciaAll Cheapside* and Lombard Street*, madam, could not have furnished you with a more complete bargain. You will find it in the wearing, and thank me both for the goodness of the stuff and of the manufacture.

195LadyBut now the price, Mistress Saleware. I grant your commodity* is good: the gold and silver laces and the fringes are rich and, I hope, well wrought. Has your man made a note of the particulars and their prices at the rate of ready money* (for I buy so), and not as you would book’em to an under-aged heir or a court cavalier, to expect payment two or three years hence, and find it perhaps never*. I come with, ‘Here is one for tother’.

196AliciaI know your ladyship’s payments* such; and they are prized so, madam, to a farthing.

197LadyLet me see: broad plate silver and gold lace,* two hundred and six ounces half and a dram at five and tenpence the ounce. Sixty pounds, five shillings, three pence, halfpenny* four. Five and tenpence an ounce is dear.

198AliciaI protest unto you, madam, that parcel of lace, for a bed as you intend it, was bespoken and agreed for at six shillings the ounce by a very great person: but because ready money came not to fetch it off, fortune reserved it here for you.* You could not have been so fitted on the sudden else within London walls*; and I am glad the same fortune was so favourable to me, as by my hands to design it for your ladyship’s use and pleasure. I hope, madam, we shall hear of a young heir a coming shortly, and that will make it a rich and fortunate bed indeed. And then Sir Oliver* would thank me too.

199Lady   [Aside]   What a bold slut it is.   [Aloud]   Well then, the rest of the particulars here of laces and fringes, loops and buttons, makes the sum of all an hundred pound, eight shillings, four pence, halfpenny. I am no good arithmetician, but if any be overcast and overpaid, you must allow restitution*.

200AliciaYes, good madam.

201LadyIs all put up into this box?

202AliciaAll, madam.

203Lady   [To Servingman]   Give me my purse. Take you home that* while I make payment for it.   [Servingman* with box of goods] exits.*   Your gold-weights, Mistress Saleware.

204AliciaHere, madam, all in readiness.

205LadyYou take no gold but what is weight*, I presume.

206Alicia’Tis but light pains to weigh it, madam. But let me save your ladyship that labour.

207LadyNor shall it be your trouble. Command your servant, I pray, for a glass of your beer.

208Alicia   [To Apprentice]   Some beer for my lady presently.Apprentice exits.

209LadyThat I may tell you in more privacy what perhaps you would not have him hear: for apprentices, though they are bound to keep their masters’ secrets, are not all privy to their mistresses’; that’s more a journeyman’s office.

210AliciaYour ladyship is pleased.

211LadyNot very well with myself, for I have gone beyond my commission in this bargain and exceeded my husband’s allowance. Here’s one hundred pounds, eight shillings, four pence, halfpenny* in the bill, and he allows me but the bare hundred pound.

212AliciaThe odd money is but a small matter, madam.

213LadyA great matter in an honest poor country lady’s purse, may serve her a whole Christmas at post and pair*, or farthing-gleek, when the gay gamesters’ wives o’ the city may command the hundreds* out of the purses of such poor ladies’ husbands. But here is the odd* money: eight shillings, four pence, halfpenny, and so all’s paid.

214AliciaWhat means your ladyship?

215LadyDo you not understand me then? I’ll* tell you that which I thought fit to conceal from your servant, and from your husband too, had he been here; perhaps he knows not on’t. My husband left with you, or lent* you, the last term a hundred pound, which he assigned to me, and now I have it in commodity. Had you forgot it, when it was to do you a good turn when your absent husband failed you and you wanted it?*

216AliciaA good turn, madam?

217LadyYes, was it not to have the free use of a hundred pound ready money a whole quarter of a year, through a dead vacation,* and at last to take it out in wares? A good turn, I think, for a tradeswoman. Take heed you do not by your sullenness make me suspect another kind of good turn, or that you did my husband any to my injury, nor deny the receipt of his money, lest I take up a violence that will not become me, nor you be able to bear. Be therefore well advised both in what you say and who hears me. Somebody comes.
Enter APPRENTICE with beer.

218AliciaMadam, your beer.

219LadyI’ll pledge you, Mistress Saleware.

220AliciaI shall presume then, madam.   Drinks.   

221Lady   [To APPRENTICE]   This was right cast, was it not, friend?

222ApprenticeYour ladyship will find it so.   LADY drinks.   

223AliciaAnd I hope you will find your money so well bestowed, madam, that you will vouchsafe always to know the shop.

224LadyEver upon the like occasion, Mistress Saleware. So, most kindly farewell, sweet Mistress Saleware.

225AliciaThe humblest of your servants, madam.   [To APPRENTICE]   Open the boot for my lady.

226Lady’Tis done, my coachman does it.Exit.

227AliciaI would the devil were in your coachman’s coat to take his carriage for his pains.
LADY returns.

228LadyOne word more, Mistress Saleware.   [Aside]   Can it be he?*

229AliciaLay your commands on me, good madam.   [ALICIA] curtsy[s].   

230LadyNot to your trouble. I perceive a young gentleman attends for conference with you. Is not his name Fitzgerrard?

231AliciaNo, madam, his name is Bellamy, much depending on the young Lord Lovely.

232LadyI thought I had known him. He is a handsome youth. I cannot blame you now with him: but beware of old knights that have young ladies of their own. Once more adieu, sweet Mistress Saleware.Exit.

233AliciaMost courteous madam— and once more to the devil.* But on my life, her chaste ladyship is taken with this beardless Bellamy.* How she shot eyes at him!
[Enter BELLAMY].*

234BellamyNow may your servant obtain a hearing, lady?

235AliciaMy ears are open, sir.

236BellamyBut you are sad or angry. Why seems that brow to threaten a subjection over him that is your vanquished captive? Or has Cupid placed his bow there bent at me,* whose heart already lodges all his arrows, never to be restored but by your pity?*

237AliciaFie, fie upon’t! What talk is this? I am vexed and you would mad me.

238BellamyWhat has displeased you?

239AliciaA cross business that has happened in my shop today. I being none of the wisest chapwoman have undersold a parcel of the best commodities my husband had. And should he know’t we should have such a squabble*.

240BellamyHusbands should be so served that do impose
        Those mercenary offices on their wives.

241AliciaTalk so and I will hear you; your amorous notes sound like play-speeches.

242BellamyServile, nay, slavish offices, ranking their wives with their apprentices.

243AliciaThey pretend only that we should overlook our servants, when they but set us there* for show to draw in custom. But in making us such overseers they are overseen themselves. Shopkeepers’ wives will be meddling and dealing in their kind, and as they are able as well as their husbands (some much better and more profitable). But I was overreached, I confess.

244BellamyFor no great matter, I hope?

245AliciaNo, the matter was not much (that never fretted me) but the manner has e’en killed a she-shopkeeper. I cannot be long-lived here under a penthouse, as my lord (you know)* told me when he said he would shut me out of this servitude, and that I should change my coat,* though my husband could not before he were an alderman, and be ranked with ladies.

246BellamyMy lord has still the same regard of you.

247AliciaSo it appears by the tailor and the mercer whom he sent four days since* to measure me out and suit me to his honour, and no return of them found, yet his* land might ha’ been measured* all and sold while a poor suit is dreamt on, had he born the mind of some lord!

248Bellamy   [Handing ALICIA a paper]   I doubt not but this paper will clear that jealousy. And while you read, I’ll speak that which I dare not utter through sighs and blushes to an entire attention.
        I am of noble blood myself, free-born,
        And not without good education;
        But since I am engaged in this employment,
        And made an instrument* of others’ lust,
        I find myself a scandal to my name,
        To honour and to virtue, the base blot
        Of pander sticking on me. But not this
        Alone is my affliction. Here’s my torment:
        That while I do true service to my lord
        (Whom I must ever honour) in my agency
        Unto yourself (whom I cannot but love)
        I find myself a traitor to his trust
        In my negotiation for myself.
        Nor can I find it possible to desist
        Mine own attempts to you, or forbear to urge
        Your constancy to him.

249Alicia   [Aside]   How easy a work
        ’Twere for one woman to supply ’em both,*
        And hold her husband play to level-coil;*
        A wooden two-leaved book, a pair of tables*
        Would do’t.

250Bellamy   [Aside]   How wretched is that suppliant who must make
        Suit to obtain that which he fears to take!

251Alicia   [She reads]   ‘At the Bear at the Bridgefoot*, six o’ clock.’ Good.   [Aloud]   Sir, I find my lord’s honourable appointments* here, and have heard you all this while.

252BellamyNow I could wish, and was in hope, you had not.

253AliciaI will not blame you on your lord’s behalf,
        Because you have enough rebuked yourself.
        But, sir, if you presume upon the favour
        I give your lord, and therefore to obtain me
        ’Cause I am his, you undervalue me
        To think that I can stoop unto his servant,
        Though almost his companion; you may think
        After that degradation by degrees,
        I may, in time, descend unto his footman.
        I’m no cast garment of his lordship’s yet.

254BellamyYou have schooled* me fairly. I am humbled, lady—   [He says] going.   

255AliciaD’ye hear*, d’ye hear, sir, Master Bellamine*, one word before you go.

256ApprenticeWhat would he buy, mistress? Can you take his money?   [To Bellamy]   Sir, d’ye hear?

257AliciaPray attend you the tother end o’ th’ shop. If I cannot handle a customer, why does your master trust me?    [APPRENTICE exits.]*      [To BELLAMY]   Could a frown fright you? Let a smile then cheer you.
[She smiles.]

258BellamyAnd that’s a heavenly one,
        As that of Cynthia at Endymion*.

259AliciaPray leave your player-like passionate expressions. And if you love me, like a man speak to me,* as I am a woman. Are you silent? If you doubt the length of my man’s ears* at that distance, you may whisper.   [BELLAMY whispers]   What so?* But that is a right shop-whisper indeed with tradeswomen that are handsome. Is that the most you will give, sir? Could I afford it so, do you think I’d make two words w’ye? Yet this before you go.   [She] kisse[s] BELLAMY.   Now match it for the price; I’ll give it you for nothing.

260BellamyI shall forget I have a lord. I must forget him here.

261AliciaDo so, and if (I say) you love me, speak plainly what you would have me do or what you would do with me.*   [Aside]*   I love to daunt* these young things that love before they can love to the purpose or speak to’t handsomely, like a boy that would fain be shooting at wild-fowl before he knows how to discharge a birding-piece.   [Aloud]   I would hear you speak. You have often muttered and fribbled some intentions towards me, but I would hear you speak. Come, if you love me, lay by the fear of the lord that sent you, and tell me roundly now what you would have me do?

262BellamyI would entreat you—*

263AliciaWell; what?

264BellamyThat you would be pleased—

265AliciaWith what? Or to do what?

266Bellamy   [Offering silk stockings]   To wear this pair of silk stockings* for me?*

267AliciaIs that all your suit? ’Tis granted, with my thanks to you. Have you no more to say?

268BellamyYes, I say you are the beautifull’st of women, and that my lord in your enjoyment is the happiest—

269AliciaNay, think not of your lord, but ask me something.*

270BellamyI would but dare not hope for such a favour; you’ll never grant it, my unworthiness.*

271AliciaHow can you tell?

272BellamyYou will not wrong my lord so as to do it.

273AliciaNot in his sight perhaps. What is it? Come.

274BellamyIt is—

275AliciaIt is then; let it be so. Go to school, child.

276BellamyIt is—that you would,* let me—   [offering a ring]   give you this ring, and grace it with your finger.

277AliciaWill that be a wrong to your lord?

278BellamyYes, to wear any favours but his own.

279AliciaDoes he know this?

280BellamyNo, nor I would not that he should (and given by me) for all the rubies in Cheapside*, where I bought this but now, over the way.

281AliciaCome, sir, I’ll dally w’ye no longer. I know what you would have with me.

282BellamyAnd now you will betray me. I am shamed then and undone.

283AliciaNo, but I have you o’ the hip.* ’Tis plain you would lie with me: deny it if you can.

284BellamyOh dear, did I say so now?

285AliciaWhat need you when I know it? You would lie with me, and you shall. Take courage, man.

286BellamyBut, in good earnest, shall I? Shall I?

287AliciaYes, in good earnest,* you’ll find it no trifling business when you come to’t* once. But, sir, upon condition.

288BellamyAny condition, lady.

289AliciaAll purpose on’t is lost, and all comes out else.

290BellamyName your condition; I’ll perform it if it be in the power of my life.

291AliciaYou saw here at your coming a fair lady.

292BellamyI took no notice of her.

293AliciaBut she did of you. She is called the Lady Thrivewell.

294BellamySir Oliver Thrivewell’s lady?

295AliciaThe same. You have known her, it seems.

296BellamySeen her before she was married.

297AliciaI will be brief with you. As you love me, she loves you as eagerly, but with much more boldness. You saw her whisper me,* and how loath she was to depart when her eye was upon you.

298BellamyI did observe it.

299AliciaShe is my noble friend and the sweetest lady. I need not set her out.* But though you think you suffer in your honour, in being an instrument ’twixt your lord and me, with the base blot of pander sticking on you (these were your words), I have engaged myself for her to be your panderess. Be so, I shall be even with you in business if you account it so.

300BellamyWhat d’ye mean, lady?

301AliciaTo urge against myself for that sweet lady, which no woman else I think would do that loves you so unfeignedly as I. But ’tis my fate, and the injunction I must lay upon you to make me yours, that first you give yourself to her embraces. I’ll give you means for your access to her, and your success with her, which done, and on your faith affirmed to me, ’tis so; I will perpetually be yours more freely than your lord’s.

302BellamyYou urge this but to try my constancy.*

303AliciaFor that I’ll satisfy you soon.
Enter SALEWARE.*

My husband’s* coming!   [Aloud]   We must tonight at the Bear— my lord writes so.

304Saleware*And there I will direct you in your progress.* Ally,* how dost? Master Bellamy, how ist? How does my noble lord? You are sad, methinks. Ha’ you overbought anything here and so repent your bargain? Or cannot my wife and you agree upon’t? You must use Master Bellamy kindly, my sweet Ally: he is our noblest lord’s most special favourite, and must find all fair dealing* here, as well when I am abroad as at home, sweetheart.

305BellamyYou hear not me complain, sir. Fare you well.Exit.

306SalewareWhat an asinego’s this! He might ha’ thanked me for my good words, though I meant him no good will. I hope thou hast overreached him indeed.

307AliciaThomas, your hopes are vain, Thomas, in seating me here to overreach or underreach anybody. I am weary of this mechanic course,* Thomas, and of this coarser habit,* as I have told you divers and sundry times, Thomas, and indeed of you, Thomas, that confine me to’t; but the bound must obey.

308SalewareNever the sooner for a hasty word*, I hope, sweet Ally; not of me, nor of my shop, I prithee, at seasonable times, love. But for thy habit (though this be decent on a citizen’s wife) use thine own fancy. Let it be as courtly or as ladylike as thou pleasest, or my lord* desires.

309AliciaThen I am friends again.

310SalewareTroth, and I’ll call thee ‘friend’, and, I prithee, let that be our familiar and common compellation: friend.* It will sound daintily, especially when thou shalt appear too gallant to be my wife.

311AliciaThen let it be so, friend.

312SalewareIn truth* it shall, and I am very much taken with it. Friend, I have found a customer today that will take off my rich parcel of broad bed-lace that my Lord Paylate bespoke and left on my hands for lack of money.

313AliciaI have sold it already, friend, with other laces at a good rate.

314SalewareAnd all for ready money, friend?

315AliciaYes, friend, a hundred pounds and somewhat more.

316SalewareWho would be, or who could live, without such a friend in such a shop? This money comes so pat for a present occasion to stop a gap. It has stopped a gap already, friend.*

317AliciaI have disposed of the money, the odd hundred pound for apparel, friend, and other accommodations for myself.

318SalewareNever the sooner for a hasty word, I hope, friend.

319AliciaI have done it, friend, whereby to appear more courtly and ladylike, as you say, to gain you more custom to your shop.

320SalewareUch, friend — is it so?

321AliciaAnd, friend, you must not be angry or think much of it if you respect your profit, friend.

322SalewareI were no friend but a wretch if I would. No, let it go, friend, and— Sapientia mea mihi* is my word— I must not grudge at my friend in anything.

323AliciaThen, friend, let your shop be your own care for the rest of this day; I have some business* abroad.

324SalewareWhither, sweet friend?

325AliciaIs that a friendly question?

326SalewareI am corrected, friend; but will you not take a man to wait upon you?

327AliciaTo watch me, shall I? And give you account of my actions? Was that spoke like a friend?

328SalewareI am again corrected, friend. Do your own pleasure. You’ll return to supper?

329AliciaYet again?

330SalewareAnd again I am corrected, friend.

331AliciaNeither to supper, nor to bed perhaps.

332SalewareNever the sooner for a hasty word, I hope.

333AliciaBut if I chance to stay, you cannot be a faithful friend and ask me where, or in what company; friendship, you know, allows all liberty.Exit.

334SalewareSapientia mea mihi. A witty wife, with an imperious will,
        Being crossed, finds means to cross her husband still;
        And tradesmen that so match must not with gall
        Temper their wives, but sweetly by wit-all.*Exit.
2.2
Enter CARELESS with two letters in his hand, and WAT with a candle and wax*.

335CarelessDoes not the world come finely on, Wat, ha? And have not we convenient comings in already, ha!   Show[s] gold.   

336WatBetter than we know how to have paid, for that’s* the glory on’t.

337CarelessI need no more ensconcing now in Ram Alley, nor the sanctuary of Whitefriars*, the forts of Fuller’s Rents* and Milford Lane*, whose walls are daily battered with the curses of bawling creditors. My debts are paid, and here’s a stock remaining of gold, pure gold; hark how sweetly it chinks.   CARELESS seals his letters.   

338WatYes, and ’twill ring the changes* shortly.

339CarelessFor necessaries, Wat, for necessaries it shall change, and ring all out, and ’twill so long as I have an uncle, and
        Know to manage him, let money fly,
        I can no faster spend than he supply.*

340WatFor necessaries, sir; but you must not now count sack and tobacco, whores and fiddlers in abundance “necessaries”.

341CarelessWhy, pray?

342WatBecause you’ll have but little then for extraordinaries, that is to say, in a gentleman, for charitable and pious works and uses.

343CarelessThe fellow’s spoiled.*

344WatNot spoiled neither: for I would but waive* your purpose of flying at all new game, and neglect* your poor whore, who now begins to be so violent for wrongs she can no longer bear, that she intends to pursue you with her complaints hither to your uncle’s house.

345CarelessMy uncle’s house? My house! Is not the first morning’s draught mine?

346WatWith great reason, for you are first dry in the morning.

347CarelessIs not the question first asked me, ‘What will you have to breakfast? What will please you for dinner, and what for supper?’ Has not my uncle let out monies, and taken bonds and mortgages in my name? Do not his tenants crouch to me, and his servants all call me young master? And does not my uncle take care to marry me to ten thousand pound and a thing like a wife?

348WatYou have got a brave possession here, I must needs say; and I applaud your fortune most in this, that your young aunt, the noble lady here, who you see* feared would prove a cruel stepdame to you, appears to be more friend to you than your uncle. ’Tis a most gracious sunshine in her.

349CarelessShe shall lose nothing by’t. I have thought a way to requite her.

350WatBut sir, for Mistress Phoebe, will you take no order for the poor soul?

351CarelessI do not like your zealous solicitation, but here’s an order for her, in answer of her malapert letter you brought me last night.   [Hands WAT a letter and money.]   Give it her, and these five pieces, upon condition that she never come, write, or send to me again, till I send to her.

352WatThat’s somewhat hard, sir.

353CarelessNay, look you, Wat, you are a little mistaken in me. I must give over whoring, for special causes* there unto me moving.

354WatOh, now I find you. And ’twere richly worth your patience if you could win the widow by’t, for whom you stood in fair election once, until your last debauchment.

355CarelessI shall stand fairer for her, sir, when I leave working but a week or two,* shall I not?

356WatYes, if you leave it quite. But to forsake her whom you have brought low, to fall to others, were such a thing—

357CarelessWell, sir, it may be I will, it may be I won’t: what’s that to you? Carry you the letter and the money, and try how that will work with her.

358WatI’ll do my best, but if she should exclaim and bring on her cousin, Master Saleware, to be clamorous —

359CarelessHer cousin’s a cuckold. Exclaim and clamorous! Give me my money again.

360WatNay, I am gone, sir.Exit.
Enter SAVEALL.

361Careless   [Aside]   The rogue’s in faction with ’em.   [Aloud]   Oh noble Master Saveall, you have most fairly kept your minute with me. I have written my letter, sealed it and all, here to the widow.

362SaveallSo early? That is well.

363CarelessI have written no less than six large epistles this morning, and sent ’em now by my man to be conveyed into the country to lords and knights, with all the news spiritual and temporal, foreign and domestic, that could possibly fall into a private gentleman’s collection.

364SaveallIs it possible?

365CarelessWith such dexterity that if I would make a trade on’t, I could undo all the newsmongers* in town that live by’t.

366SaveallIt is a most commendable practice in a gentleman, and it will mature your judgement in both the* commonwealth and state affairs, and in short time invite you unto the chair or helm*.

367CarelessWhen I am once married and settled, you shall see.   [Aside]   What an ass ’tis; he believes me.

368SaveallHow am I comforted in my meditation for you, and how overjoyed will your uncle be at the use you make of your retirements!

369CarelessI confess it is (by reason of my unwontedness to it) some difficulty for me to write to women; wherefore, since you have so nobly undertaken the conveyance of this, let me beseech you to apologize for the rudeness of my style.
[CARELESS gives SAVEALL a letter.]

370Saveall   [He reads]   “To the fair hands of the most accomplished in virtue, Mistress Anne Crostill, present, I pray, with my service”. The outside hath no rudeness on it, and (I doubt it not) she shall find within all sweetness and urbanity.

371CarelessAs you may interpret it to her, sir.

372SaveallSir, what I have already said, and do intend to say unto her from your* uncle and myself on your behalf, together with what you have here written, shall (I doubt it not) prepare so fair a way of proceeding for you that at your visit of her you may say, veni, vidi, vici,* she is your own.

373CarelessAnd then — aha, Master Saveall!

374SaveallExpect your fortune modestly, and when it comes, embrace it with discretion.

375CarelessSir, I am edified.

376SaveallIt is well if you be so; I will put my undertaking in action presently. Pray for my good success.[Exit.]

377CarelessI dare not tell him now I cannot; but I wish well for the money’s sake; and let the vintners pray, and all the decayed sparks about the town, whom I will raise out of ashes into flame again. Let them pray for my good works*.
Enter Nurse [CLOSET] with caudle-cup.*

   [Aside]   Oh, my young lady aunt’s grave waiting-woman. If she were not hers, and out of this house, I should take her for a bawd now. But being hers, and here, how much may I mistake? All flesh is frail.*

378Closet*Not to disturb your morning meditations, my lady has sent you —

379CarelessAnd you have brought me — what, sweet Mistress Closet?

380ClosetA part of her ladyship’s own breakfast: it is very cordial and comfortable to the spirits, I assure you, and delectable to the younger sort, and profitable to the old.

381CarelessOne of Robert Greene’s works*, or the mad doctor that preaches* boiled in’t, I think.

382Closet’Tis a composition of mine own, sir, of many excellent decoctions, of most wholesome, restorative, and costly ingredients*.

383CarelessThat it was sent by her makes it more excellent, whose bounteous care of me I must acknowledge exceeds all cost in carving to me and countenancing me at her table, in gracing me in presence of the ladies that come to visit her, in giving charge for decency in all things for my chamber, my fires shining, my odours burning, my livery served in, my soft and costly bed prepared and spread with perfumed linen. Here’s ambergris in this now —

384ClosetOh, is it so? Do you find that?

385CarelessBut though she is my own uncle’s wife, I could e’en say ’tis pity a young man had her not.

386Closet   [Aside]   What a wag’s this?

387CarelessShe is a most sweet lady.

388ClosetShe is a sweet lady, indeed; I can best speak it that have known her from the womb hitherto. A sweet infant she was born, and a sweet babe I swaddled it, and a sweet child I nursed it; I trained it up a sweet child. It was in manners a sweet child, at her book and sampler* a sweet child. I never whipped it but once, and then it was sweet too, and sprawled but a little, and whimpered but a little, it was so sweet a child. And so she grew upwards and upwards towards woman, and a sweet youngling she was, and so grew upwards and upwards towards man, and then a sweet bride she was, and now a most sweet lady she is (as you say, and I commend you for it). And so she stands at a stay. For now she grows no more upwards than upon her wedding-day, not upwards as I would have her upwards: here I mean, young gentleman*, could I but see a sweet babe of hers once by my master, I could be then content to sleep with my ancestors.*

389Careless   [Aside]   I had rather see your gibship hanged up with polecats in a warren, and your sweet lady with you, though I confess that were some pity.   [Aloud]   I hope her barrenness, or his, will preserve her from my curse.

390ClosetI hope still, and she hopes still; and I make him of this broth for every morning, and many other good strengthening things (I cannot say for the same purpose), for I shall never see him have an heir by her.

391CarelessExcellent! That’s best of all.

392ClosetBecause you then are heir, say you so? Is that your love to your aunt?

393CarelessNo, I protest, Nurse, I meant by the broth — the bottom* was the best of all.

394ClosetThen I cry mercy.

395CarelessCannot all thy art and her cost find help for my uncle, think’st thou, to get a child?

396ClosetHelp? What d’ye mean? He might have help and helps enough, were she not too virtuous.

397CarelessStill thou mistak’st me, Nurse.

398ClosetAway, wag, away. Your aunt loves you too well to think so of her.

399CarelessNurse, as I hope to inherit anything hereafter —

400ClosetI should but serve you well to tell her your good thought of her.

401CarelessNurse, by this good ... piece* I think no harm.

402ClosetNay, nay.

403CarelessTake it, I say. And tell her, if thou wilt, that I love her so well, that were she not mine uncle’s wife, I would get her an heir myself rather than be his.

404ClosetKind young master, now I am heartily sorry that I moved you.

405CarelessAnd for my uncle, were I his heir apparent, I rather wish he might live till all this world were weary of him, and the next afraid to take him, than I survive him.   [Aside]   Tongue*, a pox punish you for lying.   [Aloud]   Now I live well and merrily, good Nurse, wealth and estates bring cares and troubles with ’em. Were all young heirs of my contented mind, parents and patrons would be better prayed for.

406ClosetGood gentleman.

407Lady   LADY within   Nurse Closet! Closet!*

408ClosetOh, my lady calls.

409CarelessPresent my thanks and best respects unto her.

410ClosetI should ha’ told you first — I ha’ forgot. My head is naught.

411CarelessWhat member hast thou good then?

412ClosetMy lady desires you — this talk has put me out — oh, this head! My lady desires you —

413CarelessDesires she me, Nurse?

414ClosetYes, sir, she desires you —

415CarelessRefuse me if I desire not her as much, for all she is my uncle’s leavings.

416ClosetMy lady desires you —

417CarelessAnd she shall have me, Nurse, — an* she were ten uncles’ wives, and she ten of mine aunts.

418ClosetOh, this head! Nay, now you will not hear me. She desires you to go abroad in the coach with her.

419CarelessAny whither*: to Islington*, Newington*, Paddington*, Kensington*, or any of the city outleaps (I know ’em all) for a spurt and back again. Tell her I am up* and ready for her, and could ha’ been without her stirrup porridge, though I thank her for her care. A man cannot be too well prepared or provided for so sweet a lady in so much distress. A very Andromeda, chained to a rock.   Takes up his cloak and sword.   

420ClosetWhat’s this you say? I understand no word of it. I would take your answer right, though I faltered in my lady’s message.

421Careless   [Aside]   The devil’s in this overrunning tongue of mine; I could find in my heart to worm him out with my teeth.

422ClosetWhat must I tell my lady, sir?

423CarelessThat I am more obliged to her ladyship than I was to my mother: she has brought me a new man into the world, and that my being and my life is hers.
Enter LADY.

424Lady   [Aside]   I hope he’s a true convertite.   [Aloud]   Did I send you to hold discourse here, Closet?

425ClosetNor did I, madam; but I could hear this gentleman a whole day, methinks. He speaks so acknowledgingly of your ladyship’s virtue and goodness towards him.

426LadyI am beholding to him. Will you go with me, nephew, to the Exchange? I am to buy some toys there for the country. You may get a fancy by’t.

427Careless   [Aside]   Good, I must wear her favours.

428LadyOr cannot you forbear your study so long?

429Careless   [Aloud]   To do you service, madam, under whose commands I build my happiness.

430LadyBe not at the distance of compliment with me, good nephew.

431CarelessI would not be thought insolent, dear madam.

432LadyCome, the coachman grumbles at my stay, and ’twill be dinner-time presently, so the cook will be angry too.

433CarelessYou are all tenderness to your servants, madam.Exit[s with LADY Thrivewell].

434ClosetA sweet gentleman, and bountiful. If my lady had been blessed with such a husband, what a place had I had!Ex[it]*.

Edited by Eleanor Lowe