Act 5 — THE CITY GALLANT.

A mercer's shop discovered, Gertrude working in it; Spendall walking by the shop. Master Balance walking over the stage. After him Longfield and Geraldine.

Spend. What lack you, sir? fair stuffs or velvets?

Bal. Good morrow, Frank.

Spend. Good morrow, Master Balance.

Gera. Save you, Master Longfield.

Long. And you, sir. What business draws you towards this end o' th' town?

Gera. Faith, no great serious affairs; only a stirring humour to walk, and partly to see the beauties of the city: but it may be you can instruct me. Pray, whose shop's this?

Long. Why, 'tis Will Rash's father's: a man you are well acquainted with.

Enter a Wench with a basket of linen.

Gera. As with yourself: and is that his sister?

Long. Marry, is it, sir?

Gera. Pray, let us walk: I would behold her better.

Wench. Buy some coifs, handkerchiefs, or very good bonelace, mistress?

Gert. None.

Wench. Will you buy any handkerchiefs, sir?

Spend. Yes. Have you any fine ones?

Wench. I'll show you choice: please you look, sir?

Spend. How now! what news?

Wench. Mistress Tickleman has sent you a letter, and expects your company at night: and entreats you to send her an angel, whether you can come, or whether you cannot. [Spendall reads.

Sweet rascal; if your love be as earnest as your protestation, you will meet me this night at supper: you know the rendezvous. There will be good company; a noise of choice fiddlers;[153] a fine boy with an excellent voice; very good songs, and bawdy; and, which is more, I do purpose myself to be exceeding merry; but if you come not, I shall pout myself sick, and not eat one bit to-night, Your continual close friend, Nan Tickleman.

I pray send me an angel by the bearer, whether ye can come, or whether ye cannot.

Spend. What's the price of these two?

Wench. Half a crown, in truth.

Spend. Hold thee; there's an angel, and commend me to my delight; tell her I will not fail her, though I lose my freedom by't. [Aside.

Wench. I thank you, sir. Buy any fine handkerchiefs? [Exit Wench.

Long. You are taken, sir, extremely: what's the object?

Gera. She's wondrous fair.

Long. Nay, and your thoughts be on wenching, I'll leave you.

Spend. What lack you, gentlemen? fine stuffs, velvets, or satins? pray, come near.

Gera. Let me see a good satin.

Spend. You shall, sir. What colour?

Gera. Faith, I am indifferent. What colour most affects you, lady?

Gert. Sir!

Gera. Without offence, fair creature, I demand it.

Gert. You relish too much courtier, sir.

Long. What's the price of this?

Spend. Fifteen,[154] indeed, sir.

Long. You set a high rate on't; it had need be good.

Spend. Good! if you find a better i' th' town, I'll give you mine for nothing. If you were my own brother, I'd put it into your hands. Look upon't; 'tis close-wrought, and has an excellent gloss.

Long. Ay, I see't.

Spend. Pray, sir, come into the next room: I'll show you that of a lower price shall perhaps better please you.

Long. This fellow has an excellent tongue: sure, he was brought up in the Exchange.

Spend. Will you come in, sir?

Long. No; 'tis no matter, for I mean to buy none.

Gera. Prythee, walk in; what you bargain for, I'll discharge.

Long. Say so? fall to your work, I'll be your chapman. [Exeunt Spendall, Longfield.

Gera. Why do you say I flatter?

Gera. Leave with me first some comfort.

Gert. What would you crave?

Gera. That which I fear you will not let me have.

Gert. You do not know my bounty. Say what 'tis?

Gera. No more, fair creature, than a modest kiss.

Enter Spendall and Longfield.

Spend. Will you have it for thirteen shillings and sixpence? I'll fall to as low a price as I can, because I'll buy your custom.

Long. How now, man? what, entranced?

Gera. Good sir, ha' you done?

Long. Yes, faith, I think as much as you, and 'tis just nothing. Where's the wench?

Gera. She's here, sir, here. [Points to his heart.

Long. Ud's pity! unbutton, man, thou'lt stifle her else.

Gera. Nay, good sir, will you go?

Long. With all my heart; I stay but for you.

Spend. Do you hear, sir?

Long. What say you?

Spend. Will you take it for thirteen?

Long. Not a penny more than I bid. [Exeunt Geraldine and Longfield.

Spend. Why, then, say you might have had a good bargain. Where's this boy to make up the wares? Here's some ten pieces opened, and all to no purpose.

Enter Boy.

Boy. O Frank! shut up shop, shut up shop!

Spend. Shut up shop, boy? Why?

Boy. My master is come from the court knighted, and bid us; for he says he will have the first year of the reign of his knighthood kept holiday: here he comes.

Enter Sir Lionel Rash.

Spend. God give your worship joy, sir.

Sir L. Rash. O Frank! I have the worship now in the right kind; the sword of my knighthood sticks still upon my shoulders, and I feel the blow in my purse; it has cut two leather bags asunder. But all's one, honour must be purchased. I will give over my city coat, and betake myself to the court jacket. As for trade, I will deal in't no longer; I will seat thee in my shop, and it shall be thy care to ask men what they lack: my stock shall be summed up, and I will call thee to an account for it.

Enter Staines.

Staines. There is a devil has haunted me these three years, in likeness of an usurer: a fellow that in all his life never ate three groat loaves out of his own purse, nor ever warmed him but at other men's fires; never saw a joint of mutton in his own house these four-and-twenty years, but always cosened the poor prisoners, for he always bought his victuals out of the alms-basket; and yet this rogue now feeds upon capons, which my tenants send him out of the country; he is landlord, forsooth, over all my possessions. Well, I am spent; and this rogue has consumed me. I dare not walk abroad to see my friends, for fear the serjeants should take acquaintance of me: my refuge is Ireland or Virginia:[155] necessity cries out, and I will presently to West Chester.

Enter Bubble.

Bub. Affection, sir, will burst out.

Staines. Thou hast been a faithful servant to me. Go to thy uncle, he'll give thee entertainment: tell him, upon the stony rock of his merciless heart my fortunes suffer shipwreck.

Bub. I will tell him he is an usuring rascal, and one that would do the commonwealth good if he were hanged.

Staines. Which thou hast cause to wish for; thou art his heir, my affectionate Bubble.

Bub. But, master, wherefore should we be parted?

Staines. Because my fortunes are desperate, thine are hopeful.

Bub. Why, but whither do you mean to go, master?

Staines. Why, to sea.

Bub. To sea! Lord bless us, methinks I hear of a tempest already. But what will you do at sea?

Staines. Why, as other gallants do that are spent, turn pirate.

Bub. O master, have the grace of Wapping before your eyes, remember a high tide;[156] give not your friends cause to wet their handkerchiefs. Nay, master, I'll tell you a better course than so; you and I will go and rob my uncle; if we 'scape, we'll domineer together; if we be taken, we'll be hanged together at Tyburn; that's the warmer gallows of the two.

Enter Messenger.

Mes. By your leave, sir, whereabouts dwells one Master Bubble?

Bub. Do you hear, my friend? do you know Master Bubble, if you do see him?

Mes. No, in truth, do I not.

Bub. What is your business with Master Bubble?

Mes. Marry, sir, I come with welcome news to him.

Bub. Tell it, my friend: I am the man.

Mes. May I be assured, sir, that your name is Master Bubble?

Bub. I tell thee, honest friend, my name is Master Bubble, Master Bartholomew Bubble.

Mes. Why then, sir, you are heir to a million; for your uncle, the rich usurer, is dead.

Bub. Pray thee, honest friend, go to the next haberdasher's, and bid him send me a new melancholy hat, and take thou that for thy labour.

Mes. I will, sir. [Exit.

Enter another Messenger hastily, and knocks.

Bub. Umh. umh, umh!

Staines. I would the news were true: see how my little Bubble is blown up with't!

Bub. Do you hear, my friend; for what do you knock there?

2D Mes. Marry, sir, I would speak with the worshipful Master Bubble.

Bub. The worshipful! and what would you do with the worshipful Master Bubble? I am the man.

2D Mes. I cry your worship mercy then: Master Thong, the belt-maker, sent me to your worship, to give you notice that your uncle is dead, and that you are his only heir. [Exit.

Enter Master Blank.

Staines. Certainly this news is true; for see another: by this light, his scrivener! Now, Master Blank, whither away so fast?

Blank. Master Staines, God save you. Where is your man?

Staines. Why, look you, sir; do you not see him?

Blank. God save the right worshipful Master Bubble; I bring you heavy news with a light heart.

Bub. What are you?

Blank. I am your worship's poor scrivener.

Bub. He is an honest man, it seems, for he hath both his ears.

Blank. I am one that your worship's uncle committed some trust in for the putting out of his money, and I hope I shall have the putting out of yours.

Bub. The putting out of mine! Would you have the putting out of my money?

Blank. Yea, sir.

Bub. No, sir, I am old enough to put out my own money.

Blank. I have writings of your worship's.

Staines. As thou lov'st thy profit, hold thy tongue; thou and I will confer. [Aside.]

Bub. Do you hear, my friend? Can you tell me when and how my uncle died?

Blank. Yes, sir; he died this morning, and he was killed by a butcher.

Bub. How! by a butcher?

Blank. Yes indeed, sir; for going this morning into the market to cheapen meat, he fell down stark dead, because a butcher asked him four shillings for a shoulder of mutton.

Bub. How, stark dead! and could not aqua vitæ fetch him again?

Blank. No, sir; nor rosa solis neither; and yet there was trial made of both.

Bub. I shall love aqua vitæ and rosa solis the better while I live. [Aside.

Staines. Will it please your worship to accept of my poor service? you know my case is desperate; I beseech you that I may feed upon your bread, though it be of the brownest, and drink of your drink, though it may be of the smallest; for I am humble in body and dejected in mind, and will do your worship as good service for forty shillings a year as another shall for three pounds.

Bub. I will not stand with you for such a matter, because you have been my master; but otherwise I will entertain no man without some knight's or lady's letter for their behaviour. Gervase, I take it, is your Christian name?

Staines. Yes, if it please your worship.

Bub. Well, Gervase, be a good servant, and you shall find me a dutiful master; and because you have been a gentleman, I will entertain you for my tutor in behaviour. Conduct me to my palace. [Exeunt omnes.

Enter Geraldine, as in his study, reading.

Enter Will Rash and Longfield.

W. Rash. How now! what have we here? a sonnet and a satire, coupled together like my lady's dog and her monkey?

Gera. Prythee, away: by the deepest oath that can be sworn, thou shalt not read it; by our friendship I conjure thee! prythee, let go.

W. Rash. Now, in the name of Cupid, what want'st thou? a pigeon, a dove, a mate, a turtle? Dost thou love fowl, ha?

Prythee, let me know what she is thou lovest, that I may shun her if I should chance to meet her.

Long. Why, I'll tell you, sir, what she is, if you do not know.

W. Rash. No, not I, I protest.

Long. Why, 'tis your sister.

W. Rash. How! my sister?

Long. Yes, your eldest sister.

W. Rash. Now God bless the man: he had better choose a wench that has been bred and born in an alley: her tongue is a perpetual motion; thought is not so swift as it is; and, for pride, the woman that had her ruff poked by the devil is but a puritan to her.[158] Thou couldst never have fastened thy affection on a worse subject; she'll flout

faster than a court waiting-woman in progress[159]; any man that comes in the way of honesty does she set her mark upon, that is, a villanous jest; for she is a kind of poetess, and will make ballads upon the calves of your legs. I prythee, let her alone, she'll never make a good wife for any man, unless it be a leather-dresser; for perhaps he in time may turn her.

Long. No more words, as you fear a challenge.

W. Rash. I may tell thee in thine ear, I am glad to hear what I do; I pray God send her no worse husband, nor he no worse wife.

Enter Spendall, Nan Tickleman, Sweatman, Pursenet, and a Drawer.

Spend. Here's a spacious room to walk in: sirrah, set down the candle, and fetch us a quart of ipocras[161], and so we'll part.

Sweat. Nay, faith, son, we'll have a pottle; let's ne'er be covetous in our young days.

Spend. A pottle, sirrah; do you hear?

Drawer. Yes, sir, you shall.

Spend. How now, wench! how dost?

Tickle. Faith, I am somewhat sick; yet I should be well enough if I had a new gown.

Spend. Why, here's my hand; within these three days thou shalt have one.

Sweat. And will you, son, remember me for a new forepart? by my troth, my old one is worn so bare, I am ashamed anybody should see't.

Spend. Why, did I ever fail of my promise?

Sweat. No, in sincerity, didst thou not.

Enter Drawer.

Drawer. Here's a cup of rich ipocras. [Exit.

Spend. Here, sister, mother, and Master Pursenet: nay, good sir, be not so dejected; for, by this wine, to-morrow I will send you stuff for a new suit, and as much as shall line you a cloak clean through.

Purse. I thank you, and shall study to deserve——

Spend. Here, boy, fill, and hang that curmudgeon, that's good for nobody but himself.

Purse. Heroicly spoken, by this candle! 'tis pity thou wert not made a lord.

Spend. A lord? by this light, I do not think but to be Lord Mayor of London before I die, and have three pageants carried before me, besides a ship and an unicorn. 'Prentices may pray for that time; for whenever it happens, I will make another Shrove Tuesday[162] for them.

Enter Drawer.

Drawer. Young Master Rash has sent you a quart of Malaga[163].

Spend. Master Rash! zounds! how does he know that I am here?

Drawer. Nay, I know not, sir.

Spend. Know not! it comes through you and your rascally glib-tongued companions. 'Tis my master's son: a fine gentleman he is, and a boon companion: I must go see him. [Exit Spendall.

Sweat. Boy, fill us a cup of your malaga, we'll drink to Master Spendall in his absence: there's not a finer spirit of a citizen within the walls. Here, Master Pursenet, you shall pledge him.

Purse. I'll not refuse it, were it puddle: by Styx, he is a bountiful gentleman, and I shall report him so. Here, Mistress Tickleman, shall I charge you?

Tickle. Do your worst, serjeant: I'll pledge my young Spendall a whole sea, as they say: fa, la, la, la, la! Would the music were here again; I do begin to be wanton. Ipocras, sirrah, and a dry biscuit! Here, bawd, a carouse!

Sweat. Bawd, i' faith! you begin to grow light i' the head. I pray no more such words; for, if you do, I shall grow into distempers.

Tickle. Distempers! hang your distempers; be angry with me, and thou dar'st. I pray, who feeds you, but I? who keeps thy feather-beds from the brokers, but I? 'tis not your sausage-face, thick, clouted[164] cream-rampallion[165] at home, that snuffles in the nose like a decayed bagpipe.

Purse. Nay, sweet Mistress Tickleman, be concordant; reverence antiquity.

Enter Rash, Longfield, and Spendall.

Rash. Save you, sweet creatures of beauty, save you: how now, old Beelzebub, how dost thou?

Sweat. Beelzebub! Beelzebub in thy face!

Spend. Nay, good words, Mistress Sweatman: he's a young gallant; you must not weigh what he says.

Rash. I would my lamentable complaining lover had been here: here had been a supersedeas for his melancholy; and, i' faith, Frank, I am glad my father has turned over his shop to thee. I hope I, or any friend of mine, shall have so much credit with thee, as to stand in thy books for a suit of satin.

Spend. For a whole piece, if you please; any friend of yours shall command me to the last remnant.

Rash. Why, God-a-mercy, Frank; what, shall's to dice?

Spend. Dice or drink: here's forty crowns: as long as that will last—anything.

Rash. Why, there spoke a gingling boy.

Spend. A pox of money! 'tis but rubbish; and he that hoards it up is but a scavenger. If there be cards i' the house, let's go to primero.

Rash. Primero! why, I thought thou hadst not been so much gamester as to play at it.

Spend. Gamester! to say truth, I am none; but what is it I will not be in good company? I will fit myself to all humours; I will game with a gamester, drink with a drunkard, be civil with a citizen, fight with a swaggerer, and drab with a whoremaster.

Enter a Swaggerer, puffing.

Rash. An excellent humour, i' faith.

Long. Zounds! what have we here?

Spend. A land-porpoise, I think.

Rash. This is no angry, nor no roaring boy, but a blustering boy: now, Æolus defend us! what puffs are these?

Swag. I do smell a whore.

Drawer. O gentlemen, give him good words; he's one of the roaring boys.

Swag. Rogue!

Drawer. Here, sir.

Swag. Take my cloak, I must unbuckle; my pickled oysters work; puff, puff!

Spend. Puff, puff!

Swag. Dost thou retort—in opposition stand?

Spend. Out, you swaggering rogue! zounds, I'll kick him out of the room! [Beats him away.

Tickle. Out, alas! their naked tools are out.

Spend. Fear not, sweetheart; come along with me. [Exeunt omnes.

Enter Gertrude sola.

Enter Joyce.

Joyce. Now the boy with the bird-bolt[166] be praised! Nay, faith, sister, forward: 'twas an excellent passion.[167] Come, let's hear, what is he? If he be a proper man, and have a black eye, a smooth chin, and a curled pate, take him, wench; if my father will not consent, run away with him, I'll help to convey you.

Gert. You talk strangely, sister.

Joyce. Sister, sister, dissemble not with me, though you do mean to dissemble with your lover. Though you have protested to conceal your affection, by this tongue, you shall not; for I'll discover all, as soon as I know the gentleman.

Gert. Discover! what will you discover?

Joyce. Marry, enough, I'll warrant thee. First and foremost, I'll tell him thou read'st love-passions in print, and speakest every morning without book to thy looking-glass: next, that thou never sleepest till an hour after the bellman: that, as soon as thou art asleep, thou art in a dream, and in a dream thou art the kindest and comfortablest bed-fellow for kissings and embracings: by this hand, I cannot rest for thee: but our father——

Enter Sir Lionel.

Sir Lionel. How now! what are you two consulting on? On husbands? You think you lose time, I am sure; but hold your own a little, girls; it shall not be long ere I'll provide for you: and for you, Gertrude, I have bethought myself already.

Joyce. Nothing; but that I wish his Christian name were Water.[168]

Enter a Servant.

Joyce. Sister, sister!

Gert. What say you, sister?

Joyce. Shall I provide a cord?

Gert. A cord! what to do?

Joyce. Why, to let thee out at the window. Do not I know that thou wilt run away with the gentleman for whom you made the passion, rather than endure this same Bubble that my father talks of? 'Twere good you would let me be of your counsel, lest I break the neck of your plot.

Joyce. You say well, sister; but it is not good to linger out too long; continuance of time will take away any man's stomach in the world. I hope the next time that he comes to you I shall see him.

Gert. You shall.

Joyce. Why, go to then: you shall have my opinion of him. If he deserve thee, thou shalt delay him no longer; for if you cannot find in your heart to tell him you love him, I'll sigh it out for you. Come, we little creatures must help one another. [Exeunt.

Enter Geraldine.

Enter Gertrude and Joyce aloft.

Joyce. Do you hear, sir?

Gert. Why, sister, what will you do?

Joyce. By my maidenhead, an oath which I ne'er took in vain, either go down and comfort him, or I'll call him up and disclose all. What, will you have no mercy, but let a proper man, that might spend the spirit of his youth upon yourself, fall into a consumption? for shame, sister!

Gert. You are the strangest creature—what would you have me do?

Joyce. Marry, I would have you go to him, take him by the hand, and gripe him; say, You are welcome, I love you with all my heart, you are the man must do the feat; and take him about the neck, and kiss upon the bargain.

Gert. I'll lose his company for ever first.

Joyce. Do you hear, sir? here is a gentlewoman would speak with you.

Gert. Why, sister! pray, sister——

Joyce. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess it.

Gert. Good sister, hold your tongue: I will go down to him.

Joyce. Do not jest with me; for, by this hand, I'll either get him up, or go down myself, and read the whole history of your love to him.

Gert. If you forbear to call, I will go down.

Joyce. Let me see your back, then; and hear you, do not use him scurvily: you were best unset all your tyrannical looks, and bid him lovingly welcome, or, as I live, I'll stretch out my voice again. Ud's foot, I must take some pains, I see, or we shall never have this gear cotten;[170] but, to say truth, the fault is in my melancholy monsieur; for if he had but half so much spirit as he has flesh, he might have boarded her by this. But see, yonder she marches; now a passion on his side of half an hour long: his hat is off already, as if he were begging one poor pennyworth of kindness.

Enter Gertrude below.

Gera. Shall I presume, fair mistress, on your hand to lay my unworthy lip?

Joyce. Fie upon him! I am ashamed to hear him; you shall have a country fellow at a maypole go better to his work. He had need to be constant, for he is able to spoil as many maids as he shall fall in love withal.

Gert. Sir, you profess love unto me; let me entreat you it may appear but in some small request.

Gera. Let me know it, lady, and I shall soon effect it.

Gera. I am gone, lady.

Joyce. Do you hear, sir?

Gera. Did you call?

Joyce. Look up to the window.

Gera. What say you, gentlewoman?

Gert. Nay, pray sir, go; it is my sister calls to hasten you.

Joyce. I call to speak with you; pray, stay a little.

Gera. The gentlewoman has something to say to me.

Gert. She has nothing. I do conjure you, as you love me, stay not. [Exit Joyce.

Gera. The power of magic cannot fasten me; I am gone.

Enter Joyce below.

Gert. Yes, if you'll stay.

Joyce. If I stir a foot, hang me; you shall come together yourselves, and be naught. Do what you will; for if e'er I trouble myself again, let me want help in such a case when I need.

Gert. Nay, but prythee, sister, be not angry.

Joyce. I will be angry. Ud's foot! I cannot endure such foolery, I! Two bashful fools that would couple together, and yet ha' not the faces.

Gert. Nay, prythee, sweet sister!

Joyce. Come, come, let me go. Birds, that want the use of reason and speech, can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both, cannot conclude in twenty.

Gert. Why, what good would it do you to tell him?

Joyce. Do not talk to me, for I am deaf to anything you say. Go, weep and cry.

Gert. Nay, but sister—— [Exeunt.

Enter Staines and Drawer with wine.

Drawer. I will, sir. [Exit Drawer.

Staines. That I should live to be a servingman! a fellow which scalds his mouth with another man's porridge; brings up meat for other men's bellies, and carries away the bones for his own; changes his clean trencher for a foul one, and is glad of it. And yet did I never live so merry a life when I was my master's master as now I do, being man to my man. And I will stand to't, for all my former speeches, a servingman lives a better life than his master; and thus I prove it: The saying is, the nearer the bone the sweeter the flesh; then must the servingman needs eat the sweeter flesh, for he always picks the bones. And again, the proverb says, the deeper the sweeter. There has the servingman the advantage again, for he drinks still in the bottom of the pot. He fills his belly, and never asks what's to pay; wears broadcloth, and yet dares walk Watling Street,[171] without any fear of his draper. And for his colours, they are according to the season; in the summer, he is apparelled (for the most part) like the heavens, in blue; in winter, like the earth, in frieze.

Enter Bubble, Sir Lionel Longfield, and Sprinkle.

But see, I am prevented in my encomium. I could have maintained this theme this two hours.

Sir Lionel. Well, God rest his soul, he is gone, and we must all follow him.

Bub. Ay, ay, he's gone, Sir Lionel, he's gone,

Sir Lionel. Why, though he be gone, what then? 'Tis not you that can fetch him back again, with all your cunning. It must be your comfort that he died well.

Bub. Truly, and so it is. I would to God I had e'en another uncle that would die no worse; surely I shall weep again, if I should find my handkerchief.

Long. How now! what are these, onions?

Bub. Ay, ay, Sir Lionel, they are my onions; I thought to have had them roasted this morning for my cold. Gervase, you have not wept to-day; pray, take your onions. Gentlemen, the remembrance of death is sharp, therefore there is a banquet within to sweeten your conceits. I pray, walk in, gentlemen, walk you in; you know I must needs be melancholy, and keep my chamber. Gervase, usher them to the banquet.

Staines. I shall, sir. Please you, Sir Lionel?

Sir Lionel. Well, Master Bubble, we'll go in and taste of your bounty.

In the meantime, you must be of good cheer. [Gentlemen and Gervase go out.

Sprin. Sir.

Bub. Had the women puddings to their dole?[172]

Sprin. Yes, sir.

Bub. And how did they take 'em?

Sprin. Why, with their hands. How should they take 'em?

Bub. O thou Hercules of ignorance! I mean, how were they satisfied?

Sprin. By my troth, sir, but so-so; and yet some of them had two.

Bub. O insatiable women, whom two puddings would not satisfy! But vanish, Sprinkle; bid your fellow Gervase come hither. [Exit Sprinkle.

Enter Staines.

It is needful a gentleman should speak Latin sometimes, is it not, Gervase?

Staines. O, very graceful, sir; your most accomplished gentlemen are known by it.

Bub. Why, then will I make use of that little I have upon times and occasions. Here, Gervase, take this bag, and run presently to the mercer's; buy me seven ells of horse-flesh-coloured taffata, nine yards of yellow satin, and eight yards of orange-tawny velvet. Then run to the tailor's, the haberdasher's, the sempster's, the cutler's, the perfumer's, and to all trades whatsoever, that belong to the making up of a gentleman; and, amongst the rest, let not the barber be forgotten: and look that he be an excellent fellow, and one that can snap his fingers with dexterity.[174]

Staines. I shall fit you, sir.

Bub. Do so, good Gervase: it is time my beard were corrected, for it is grown so saucy, as it begins to play with my nose.

Staines. Your nose, sir, must endure it; for it is in part the fashion.

Bub. Is it in fashion? why, then my nose shall endure it, let it tickle his worst.

Staines. Why, now y' are i' the right, sir; if you will be a true gallant, you must bear things resolute. As thus, sir; if you be at an ordinary, and chance to lose your money at play, you must not fret and fume, tear cards, and fling away dice, as your ignorant gamester or country-gentleman does; but you must put on a calm, temperate action, with a kind of careless smile in contempt of fortune, as not being able with all her engines to batter down one piece of your estate, that your means may be thought invincible. Never tell your money: nor what you have won, nor what you have lost. If a question be made, your answer must be: What I have lost, I have lost; what I have won, I have won. A close heart and free hand make a man admired: a testern or a shilling to a servant that brings you a glass of beer, binds his hands to his lips: you shall have more service of him than his master; he will be more humble to you than a cheater before a magistrate.

Bub. Gervase, give me thy hand: I think thou hast more wit than I, that am thy master; and for this speech only I do here create thee my steward. I do long, methinks, to be at an ordinary: to smile at fortune, and to be bountiful. Gervase, about your business, good Gervase, whilst I go and meditate upon a gentleman-like behaviour. I have an excellent gait already, Gervase, have I not?

Staines. Hercules himself, sir, had never a better gait.

Bub. But despatch, Gervase: the satin and the velvet must be thought upon, and the Tu quoque must not be forgotten; for whensoever I give arms, that shall be my motto. [Exit Bubble.

Staines. What a fortune had I thrown upon me when I preferred myself into this fellow's service! Indeed, I serve myself, and not him; for this gold here is my own, truly purchased: he has credit, and shall run i' th' books for't. I'll carry things so cunningly, that he shall not be able to look into my actions. My mortgage I have already got into my hands: the rent he shall enjoy awhile, till his riot constrain him to sell it; which I will purchase with his own money. I must cheat a little: I have been cheated upon. Therefore I hope the world will a little the better excuse me. What his uncle craftily got from me, I will knavishly recover of him. To come by it, I must vary shapes, and my first shift shall be in satin.

Enter Spendall, Pursenet, and a Boy with rackets.

Spend. A rubber, sirrah.

Boy. You shall, sir.

Spend. And bid those two men you said would speak with me come in.

Boy. I will, sir. [Exit Boy.

Spend. Did I not play this set well?

Enter Blank and another.

Purse. Excellent well: by Phaeton, by Erebus, it went as if it had cut the line.

Blank. God bless you, sir.

Spend. Master Blank, welcome.

Blank. Here's the gentleman's man, sir, has brought the money.

Ser. Will't please you tell it, sir?

Spend. Have you the bond ready, Master Blank?

Blank. Yes, sir.

Blank. The thirteenth of the next month.

Spend. 'Tis well: here's light gold.

Ser. 'Twill be the less troublesome to carry.

Spend. You say well, sir; how much hast thou told?

Purse. In gold and silver, here is twenty pounds.

Blank. 'Tis right, Master Spendall, I'll warrant you.

Blank. You give this as your deed?

Spend. Marry do I, sir.

Blank. Pleaseth this gentleman to be a witness?

Spend. Yes, marry shall he. Pursenet, your hand.

Purse. My hand is at thy service, noble Brutus.

Spend. There's for your kindness, Master Blank.

Blank. I thank you, sir.

Blank. I'll take my leave of you.[176]

Spend. What, must you be gone too, Master Blank?

Blank. Yes, indeed, sir; I must to the Exchange. [Exit.

Purse. The butcher and the baker then shall stay.

Spend. They must, till I am somewhat stronger pursed.

Purse. If this be all, I have my errand perfect. [Exit Pursenet.

Spend. Here, sirrah, here's for balls; there's for yourself.

Boy. I thank your worship.

Spend. Commend me to your mistress. [Exit.

Boy. I will, sir. In good faith, 'tis the liberall'st gentleman that comes into our court: why, he cares no more for a shilling than I do for a box o' th' ear, God bless him. [Exit.

Enter Staines gallant, Longfield, and a Servant.

Staines. Sirrah, what o'clock is't?

Ser. Past ten, sir.

Staines. Here will not be a gallant seen this hour.

Ser. Within this quarter, sir, and less: they meet here as soon as at any ordinary in th' town.

Staines. Hast any tobacco?

Ser. Yes, sir.

Staines. Fill.

Long. Why, thou report'st miracles, things not to be believed: I protest to thee, hadst thou not unripped thyself to me, I should never have known thee.

Staines. I tell you true, sir; I was so far gone, that desperation knocked at my elbow, and whispered news to me out of Barbary.[177]

Long. This morning at his chamber; he'll be here.

Staines. Why, then, do thou give him my name and character, for my aim is wholly at my worshipful master.

Long. Nay, thou shalt take another into him: one that laughs out his life in this ordinary, thanks any man that wins his money: all the while his money is losing, he swears by the cross of this silver; and, when it is gone, he changeth it to the hilts of his sword.

Enter Scattergood and Ninnihammer.

Staines. He'll be an excellent coach-horse for my captain.

Scat. Save you, gallants, save you.

Long. How think you now? have I not carved him out to you?

Staines. Thou hast lighted me into his heart; I see him thoroughly.

Scat. Ninnihammer!

Nin. Sir.

Scat. Take my cloak and rapier also: I think it be early. Gentlemen, what time do you take it to be?

Staines. Inclining to eleven, sir.

Scat. Inclining! a good word. I would it were inclining to twelve, for by my stomach it should be high noon. But what shall we do, gallants? shall we to cards till our company come?

Long. Please you, sir.

Scat. Harry, fetch some cards; methinks 'tis an unseemly sight to see gentlemen stand idle. Please you to impart your smoke?

Long. Very willingly, sir.

Scat. In good faith, a pipe of excellent vapour.

Long. The best the house yields.

Scat. Had you it in the house? I thought it had been your own: 'tis not so good now as I took it to be.[178] Come, gentlemen, what's your game?

Staines. Why, gleek; that's your only game.

Scat. Gleek let it be, for I am persuaded I shall gleek some of you. Cut, sir.

Long. What play we? twelvepence gleek?

Scat. Twelvepence? a crown: ud's foot! I will not spoil my memory for twelvepence.

Long. With all my heart.

Staines. Honour.

Scat. What is't, hearts?

Staines. The king! what say you?

Long. You must speak, sir.

Scat. Why, I bid thirteen.

Staines. Fourteen.

Scat. Fifteen.

Staines. Sixteen.

Long. Sixteen, seventeen.

Staines. You shall ha't for me.

Scat. Eighteen.

Long. Take it to you, sir.

Scat. Ud's life! I'll not be outbraved.

Staines. I vie it.

Long. I'll none of it.

Scat. Nor I.

Staines. Give me a murnival of aces and a gleek of queens.

Long. And me a gleek of knaves.

Scat. Ud's life! I'm gleeked this time.

Enter Will Rash.

Staines. Play.

W. Rash. Equal fortunes befall you, gallants.

Scat. Will Rash: well, I pray see what a vile game I have.

W. Rash. What's your game—gleek?

Scat. Yes, faith, gleek; and I have not one court card but the knave of clubs.

W. Rash. Thou hast a wild hand, indeed. Thy small cards show like a troop of rebels, and the knave of clubs their chief leader.

Scat. And so they do, as God save me: by the cross of this silver, he says true.

Enter Spendall.

Staines. Pray, play, sir.

Long. Honour.

W. Rash. How go the stocks, gentlemen? what's won or lost?

Staines. This is the first game.

Scat. Yes, this is the first game; but, by the cross of this silver, here's all of five pounds.

Spend. Good day to you, gentlemen.

W. Rash. Frank, welcome, by this hand; how dost, lad?

Spend. And how does thy wench, faith?

W. Rash. Why, fat and plump, like thy geldings; thou giv'st them both good provender, it seems. Go to, thou art one of the madd'st wags of a citizen i' th' town: the whole company talks of thee already.

Spend. Talk! why, let 'em talk; ud's foot! I pay scot and lot, and all manner of duties else, as well as the best of 'em. It may be they understand I keep a whore, a horse, and a kennel of hounds; what's that to them? no man's purse opens for it but mine own; and so long my hounds shall eat flesh, my horse bread, and my whore wear velvet.

W. Rash. Why, there spoke a courageous boy.

Spend. Ud's foot! shall I be confined all the days of my life to walk under a pent-house? No, I'll take my pleasure whilst my youth affords it.

Scat. By the cross of these hilts, I'll never play at gleek again, whilst I have a nose on my face: I smell the knavery of the game.

Spend. Why, what's the matter? who has lost?

Scat. Marry, that have I. By the hilts of my sword, I have lost forty crowns in as small time almost as a man might tell it.

Spend. Change your game for dice: we are a full number for Novem.[179]

Scat. With all my heart. Where's Master Ambush the broker? Ninnihammer.

Nin. Sir.

Scat. Go to Master Ambush, and bid him send me twenty marks upon this diamond.

Enter Bubble.

Nin. I will, sir.

Long. Look ye, to make us merrier, who comes here?

W. Rash. A fresh gamester? Master Bubble, God save you.

Bub. Tu quoque.

Staines. Save you, sir.

Bub. Et tu quoque.

Long. Good Master Bubble.

Bub. Et tu quoque.

Scat. Is your name Master Bubble?

Bub. Master Bubble is my name, sir.

Scat. God save you, sir.

Bub. Et tu quoque.

Scat. I would be better acquainted with you.

Bub. And I with you.

Scat. Pray, let us salute again.

Bub. With all my heart, sir.

Long. Behold yonder the oak and the ivy, how they embrace.

W. Rash. Excellent acquaintance! they shall be the Gemini.

Bub. Shall I desire your name, sir.

Scat. Master Scattergood.

Bub. Of the Scattergoods of London.

Scat. No indeed, sir. Of the Scattergoods of Hampshire.

Bub. Good Master Scattergood.

Staines. Come, gentlemen, here's dice.

Scat. Please you, advance to the table?

Bub. No indeed, sir.

Scat. Pray, will you go?

Bub. I will go, sir, over the world for your sake, but in courtesy I will not budge a foot.

Enter Ninnihammer.

Nin. Here is the cash you sent me for: and, Master Rash, here is a letter from one of your sisters.

Spend. I have the dice; set, gentlemen.

Long. From which sister?

W. Rash. From the madcap, I know by the hand.

Spend. For me, six.

Omnes. And six that.

Staines. Nine; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8: eighteen shillings.

Spend. What's yours, sir?

Scat. Mine's a baker's dozen. Master Bubble, tell your money.

Bub. In good faith, I am but a simple gamester, and do not know what to do.

Scat. Why, you must tell your money, and he'll pay you.

Bub. My money! I do know how much my money is, but he shall not pay me; I have a better conscience than so: what, for throwing the dice twice? i' faith, he should have but a hard bargain of it.

W. Rash. Witty rascal! I must needs away.

Long. Why, what's the matter?

W. Rash. Why, the lovers cannot agree: thou shalt along with me, and know all.

Long. But first let me instruct thee in the condition of this gentleman: whom dost thou take him to be?

W. Rash. Nay, he's a stranger, I know him not.

Long. By this light, but you do, if his beard were off: 'tis Staines.

W. Rash. The devil it is as soon! and what's his purpose in this disguise?

Long. Why, cheating; do you not see how he plays upon his worshipful master and the rest?

W. Rash. By my faith, he draws apace.

Spend. A pox upon these dice! give's a fresh bale.[180]

Bub. Ha, ha! the dice are not to be blamed; a

man may perceive this is no gentlemanly gamester, by his chafing. Do you hear, my friend? fill me a glass of beer, and there's a shilling for your pains.

Drawer. Your worship shall, sir.

W. Rash. Why, how now, Frank! what hast lost?

Spend. Fifteen pounds and upwards: is there never an honest fellow?

Amb. What, do you lack money, sir?

Spend. Yes, canst furnish me?

Amb. Upon a sufficient pawn, sir.

Spend. You know my shop; bid my man deliver you a piece of three-pile velvet, and let me have as much money as you dare adventure upon't.

Amb. You shall, sir.

Spend. A pox of this luck! it will not last [for] ever. Play, sir, I'll set you.

W. Rash. Frank, better fortune befall thee; and, gentlemen, I must take my leave, for I must leave you.

Scat. Must you needs be gone?

W. Rash. Indeed I must.

Bub. Et tu quoque?

Long. Yes, truly.

Scat. At your discretions, gentlemen.

W. Rash. Farewell. [Exeunt Rash and Longfield.

Staines. Cry you mercy, sir. I am chanced with you all. Gentlemen: here I have 7, here 7, and here 10.

Spend. 'Tis right, sir, and ten that.

Bub. And nine that.

Staines. Two fives at all. [Draws all.

Bub. One and five that.

Spend. Hum! and can a suit of satin cheat so grossly? By this light, there's nought on one die but fives and sixes. I must not be thus gulled. [Aside.

Bub. Come, Master Spendall, set.

Spend. No, sir, I have done.

Scat. Why, then let us all leave, for I think dinner's near ready.

Drawer. Your meat's upon the table.

Scat. On the table! come, gentlemen, we do our stomachs wrong. Master Bubble, what have you lost.

Bub. That's no matter: what I have lost, I have lost; nor can I choose but smile at the foolishness of the dice.

Staines. I am but your steward, gentlemen; for after dinner I may restore it again.

Bub. Master Scattergood, will you walk in?

Scat. I'll wait upon you, sir. Come, gentlemen, will you follow? [Exeunt. Spendall and Staines.

Staines. Yes, sir, I'll follow you.

Spend. Hear you, sir, a word.

Staines. Ten, if you please.

Spend. I have lost fifteen pounds.

Staines. And I have found it.

Staines. Dar'st thou resist? thou art no citizen.

Spend. I am a citizen.

Staines. I accept it: the meeting-place?

Spend. Beyond the Maze in Tuttle.[182]

Staines. What weapon?

Spend. Single rapier.

Staines. The time?

Spend. To-morrow.

Staines. The hour?

Spend. 'Twixt nine and ten.

Staines. 'Tis good; I shall expect you. Farewell.

Spend. Farewell, sir. [Exeunt omnes.

Enter Will Rash, Longfield, and Joyce.

W. Rash. Why, I commend thee, girl; thou speak'st as thou think'st. Thy tongue and thy

heart are relatives; and thou wert not my sister, I should at this time fall in love with thee.

Joyce. You should not need, for, and you were not my brother, I should fall in love with you, for I love a proper man with my heart, and so does all the sex of us, let my sister dissemble never so much. I am out of charity with these nice and squeamish tricks. We were born for men, and men for us; and we must together.

W. Rash. This same plain-dealing is a jewel in thee.

Joyce. And let me enjoy that jewel, for I love plain-dealing with my heart.

W. Rash. Th' art a good wench, i' faith. I should never be ashamed to call thee sister, though thou shouldst marry a broom-man. But your lover, methinks, is over-tedious.

Enter Geraldine.

Joyce. No, look ye, sir; could you wish a man to come better upon his cue?[183] Let us withdraw.

W. Rash. Close, close, for the prosecution of the plot, wench. See, he prepares.

Joyce. Silence.

Enter Gertrude aloft.

Gert. Sir, your music is so good, that I must say I like it: but the bringer so ill-welcome, that I could be content to lose it. If you played for money, there 'tis; if for love, here's none; if for goodwill, I thank you, and, when you will, you may be gone.

Gert. Sir, rest thus satisfied; my mind was never woman, never altered; nor shall it now begin: so fare you well. [Exit Gertrude.

W. Rash. 'Sfoot, she plays the terrible tyrannising Tamberlane over him. This it is to turn Turk; from a most absolute, complete gentleman to a most absurd, ridiculous, and fond lover. [Aside.]

Long. O, when a woman knows the power and authority of her eye!—— [Aside.]

Joyce. Fie upon her! she's good for nothing then, no more than a jade that knows his own strength. The window is clasped; now, brother, pursue your project, and deliver your friend from the tyranny of my domineering sister. [Aside.]

W. Rash. Do you hear, you drunkard in love? Come into us, and be ruled. You would little think that the wench that talked so scurvily out of the window there is more enamoured on thee than thou on her. Nay, look you now: see if he turn not away, slighting our good counsel. I am no Christian if she do not sigh, whine, and grow sick for thee. Look you, sir: I will bring you in good witness against her.

Long. A good observation, by my faith.

Enter Gertrude above.

Gert. How now, brother; why call you with such terror?

Gera. I guess what you'd have me do.

Long. O, for a little blood to besprinkle him!

W. Rash. No matter for blood, I'll not suffer her to come near him till the plot have ta'en his full height.

Gera. A scarf o'er my face, lest I betray myself.

Enter Gertrude below.

W. Rash. Yonder lies Geraldine.

Gert. What now?

W. Rash. But one kiss—no more.

Gert. Why, then, no more.

W. Rash. No? I'll try that. [Aside.] Come, dead man, awake! up with your bag and baggage, and let's have no more fooling.

Gert. And lives my Geraldine?

Joyce. Spare me not: for wheresoever I set my affection, although it be upon a collier, if I fall back, unless it be in the right kind, bind me to a stake, and let me be burned to death with charcoal.

W. Rash. Well, thou art a mad wench, and there's no more to be done at this time, but, as we brought you together, so to part you: you must not lie at rack and manger; there be those within that will forbid the banns: time must shake good-fortune by the hand before you two must be great; 'specially you, sister. Come, leave swearing.

Gert. Must we then part?

W. Rash. Must you part! why, how think you? ud's foot! I do think we shall have as much to do to get her from him as we had to bring her to him. This love of women is of strange quality, and has more tricks than a juggler. [Aside.]

Gert. But this, and then farewell.

Gera. Thy company[189] is heaven, thy absence hell.

Enter Spendall and Staines. Tothill Fields.

Enter Sir Lionel and a Servant.

Sir Lionel. Come, come, follow me, knave, follow me; I have the best nose i' the house, I think: either we shall have rainy weather, or the vault's unstopped. Sirrah, go see; I would not have my guests smell out any such inconvenience. Do you hear, sirrah Simon?

Ser. Sir.

Sir Lionel. Bid the kitchen-maid scour the sink, and make clean her backside, for the wind lies just upon't.

Ser. I will, sir.

Sir Lionel. And bid Anthony put on his white fustian doublet, for he must wait to-day. [Exit

Servant.] It doth me so much good to stir and talk, to place this and displace that, that I shall need no apothecaries' prescriptions. I have sent my daughter this morning as far as Pimlico,[190] to fetch a draught of Derby ale,[191] that it may fetch a colour in her cheeks: the puling harlotry looks so pale, and it is all for want of a man, for so their mother would say (God rest her soul) before she died. [Exit.

Enter Bubble, Scattergood, Staines, and Servant.

Ser. Sir, the gentlemen are come already.

Sir Lionel. How, knave? the gentlemen?

Ser. Yes, sir: yonder they are.

Sir Lionel. God's precious! we are too tardy: let one be sent presently to meet the girls, and hasten their coming home quickly. How, dost thou stand dreaming! [Exit Servant.] Gentlemen, I see you love me, you are careful of your hour; you may be deceived in your cheer, but not in your welcome.

Bub. Thanks, and Tu quoque is a word for all.

Scat. A pretty concise room; Sir Lionel, where are your daughters?

Sir Lionel. They are at your service, sir, and forthcoming.

Bub. God's will, Gervase! how shall I behave myself to the gentlewomen?

Staines. Why, advance yourself toward them with a comely step; and in your salute be careful you strike not too high nor too low: and afterward, for your discourse, your Tu quoque will bear you out.

Bub. Nay, and that be all, I care not, for I'll set a good face on't, that's flat: and for my nether parts, let them speak for themselves. Here's a leg; and ever a baker in England show a better, I'll give him mine for nothing.

Staines. O, that's a special thing that I must caution you of.

Bub. What, sweet Gervase?

Staines. Why, for commending yourself: never, whilst you live, commend yourself; and then you shall have the ladies themselves commend you.

Bub. I would they would else.

Staines. Why, they will, I'll assure you, sir; and the more vilely you speak of yourself, the more will they strive to collaud you.

Enter Gertrude and Joyce.

Bub. Let me alone to dispraise myself: I'll make myself the errantest coxcomb within a whole country.

Bub. Is this the eldest, sir?

Sir Lionel. Yes, marry is she, sir.

Bub. I'll kiss the youngest first, because she likes me best.[192]

Scat. Marry, sir, and whilst you are there, I'll be here. [Kisses the elder.] O delicious touch! I think in conscience her lips are lined quite through with orange-tawny velvet.

Bub. They kiss exceeding well; I do not think but they have been brought up to't. I will begin to her, like a gentleman, in a set speech. Fair lady, shall I speak a word with you?

Joyce. With me, sir?

Joyce. Very good, sir.

Bub. Do—do—do.

Joyce. What do they do?

Bub. By my troth, lady, I do not know; for to say truth, I am a kind of an ass.

Joyce. How, sir? an ass?

Bub. Yes, indeed, lady.

Joyce. Nay, that you are not.

Joyce. Why, here's a gentleman, your friend, will not say so.

Bub. I' faith, but he shall: how say you, sir? Am not I an ass?

Bub. Pray, look upon me, lady.

Joyce. So I do, sir.

Bub. Ay, but look upon me well, and tell me if ever you saw any man look so scurvily as I do?

Joyce. By my faith, 'tis a pretty four-square leg.

Bub. Ah! now she comes to me. [Aside.] My behaviour! alas, alas! 'tis clownical; and my discourse is very bald—bald; you shall not hear me break a good jest in a twelvemonth.

Joyce. No, sir? why, now you break a good jest.

Bub. No, I want the bon jour and the Tu quoques which yonder gentleman has. There's a bob for him too. [Aside.] There's a gentleman, an you talk of a gentleman!

Joyce. Who, he? he's a coxcomb, indeed.

Bub. We are sworn brothers, in good faith, lady.

Enter Servant.

Scat. Yes, in truth, we are sworn brothers, and do mean to go both alike, and to have horses alike.

Joyce. And they shall be sworn brothers, too?

Scat. If it please them, lady.

Ser. Master Balance the goldsmith desires to speak with you.

Sir Lionel. Bid him come, knave.

Scat. I wonder, Sir Lionel, your son, Will Rash, is not here.

Sir Lionel. Is he of your acquaintance, sir?

Scat. O, very familiar: he struck me a box o' th' ear once, and from thence grew my love to him.

Enter Balance.

Sir Lionel. It was a sign of virtue in you, sir; but he'll be here at dinner. Master Balance, what makes you so strange? Come, you're welcome; what's the news?

Bal. None at all, sir; for he's already laid to be arrested by some that I know.

Enter Will Rash and Geraldine.

Sir Lionel. Go to; no more of this at this time. What, sir, are you come?

W. Rash. Yes, sir; and have made bold to bring a guest along.

Sir Lionel. Master Geraldine's son of Essex?

Gera. The same, sir.

Sir Lionel. You're welcome, sir; when will your father be in town?

Gera. 'Twill not be long, sir.

Sir Lionel. I shall be glad to see him when he comes.

Gera. I thank you, sir.

W. Rash. And how does my little Asinus and his Tu quoque, here? O, you pretty sweet-faced rogues! that for your countenances might be Alexander and Lodwick.[193] What says the old man to you! will't be a match? shall we call brothers?

Scat. I' faith, with all my heart: if Mistress Gertrude will, we will be married to-morrow.

Bub. 'Sfoot, if Mistress Joyce will, we'll be married to-night.

W. Rash. Why, you courageous boys, and worthy wenches made out of wax! But what shall's do when we have dined? shall's go see a play?

Scat. Yes, faith, brother, if it please you: let's go see a play at the Globe.

Bub. I care not; any whither, so the clown have a part; for, i' faith, I am nobody without a fool.

Gera. Why, then, we'll go to the Red Bull: they say Green's a good clown.

Bub. Green! Green's an ass.

Scat. Wherefore do you say so?

Bub. Indeed, I ha' no reason; for they say he is as like me as ever he can look.

Scat. Well, then, to the Bull.

W. Rash. A good resolution!—continue it: nay, on.

Bub. Not before the gentlewomen; not I, never.

W. Rash. O, while you live, men before women: custom hath placed it so.

Bub. Why, then, custom is not so mannerly as I would be. [Exeunt Bubble and Scattergood.

W. Rash. Farewell, Master Scattergood. Come, lover, you're too busy here. I must tutor ye: cast not your eye at the table on each other; my father will spy you without spectacles; he is a shrewd observer. Do you hear me?

Gera. Very well, sir.

W. Rash. Come, then, go we together; let the wenches alone. Do you see yonder fellow?

Gera. Yes; prythee, what is he?

Joyce. What mean you, sister?

Joyce. Nay, prythee, leave this jesting; I am out of the vein.[194]

Gert. Ay, but I am in. Go and speak to your lover.

Joyce. I'll first be buried quick.

Gert. How! ashamed? 'Sfoot, I trow, "if I had set my affection on a collier, I'd ne'er fall back, unless it were in the right kind: if I did, let me be tied to a stake, and burnt to death with charcoal."[195]

Joyce. Nay, then, we shall have't.

Gert. Yes, marry shall you, sister: will you speak to him?

Joyce. No.

Gert. Do you hear, sir? here's a gentlewoman would speak with you.

Joyce. Why, sister! I pray, sister——

Gert. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess it.

Staines. Did you call, ladies?

Joyce. No, sir; here's no one called.

Gert. Yes, sir, 'twas I; I called to speak with you.

Joyce. My sister's somewhat frantic; there's no regard to be had unto her clamours. Will you yet leave? I' faith, you'll anger me.

Gert. Passion: "come back, fool; lover, turn again and kiss your bellyful; here's one will stand ye."[196]

Staines. What does this mean, trow?

Joyce. Yet is your humour spent?

Gert. Come, let me go: "birds that want the use of reason and of speech can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both, cannot conclude in twenty."[197] Now, sister, I am even with you, my venom is spit. As much happiness may you enjoy with your lover as I with mine. And droop not, wench, nor never be ashamed of him; the man will serve the turn, though he be wrapped in a blue coat, I'll warrant him; come.

Joyce. You are merrily disposed, sister. [Exeunt wenches.

Enter Spendall, Sweatman, and Tickleman.

Tickle. Will my sweet Spendall be gone, then?

Spend. I must, upon promise; but I'll be here at supper: therefore, Mistress Sweatman, provide us some good cheer.

Sweat. The best the market will yield.

Spend. Here's twenty shillings; I protest I have left myself but a crown for my spending-money: for indeed I intend to be frugal, and turn good husband.

Tickle. Ay, marry will you; you'll to play again and lose your money, and fall to fighting; my very heart trembles to think on it; how, if you had been killed in the quarrel? of my faith, I had been but a dead woman.

Spend. Come, come, no more of this; thou dost but dissemble.

Spend. Away, away; prythee, no more. Farewell.

Spend. Thou art a loving rascal; farewell.

Sweat. You will not fail supper?

Spend. You have my word; farewell. [Exit.

The street. Enter Serjeants.

1st Ser. Sir, we arrest you.

Spend. Arrest me! at whose suit?

2d Ser. Marry, there's suits enough against you, I'll warrant you.

1st Ser. Come, away with him.

Spend. Stay, hear me a word.

2d Ser. What do you say?

Sweatman's house. Another part of the street. Enter Pursenet.

Tickle. How now, Pursenet? why com'st in such haste?

Tickle. How! his ware seized on? Thou dost but jest, I hope.

1st Ser. What say you, fellow Gripe, shall we take his forty shillings?

2d Ser. Yes, faith; we shall have him again within this week. [Aside.

1st Ser. Well, sir, your forty shillings; and we'll have some compassion on you.

Ser. What, where the women are?

Spend. Yes, sir. [They walk together to the house.

Sweat. Look yonder, if the ungracious rascal be not coming hither betwixt two serjeants: he thinks, belike, that we'll relieve him; let us go in and clap the doors against him.

Purse. It is the best course, Mistress Tickleman.

Ser. Zounds, do you mock us, to bring us to these women, that do not know you?

Sweat. Is he your prisoner, gentlemen?

Ser. Yes, marry is he.

Sweat. Out upon him, wicked villain, how he blasphemes!

Purse. He will be damn'd for turning heretic.

Sweat. Well, if men did rightly consider't, they should find that whores and bawds are profitable members in a commonwealth; for indeed, though we somewhat impair their bodies, yet we do good to their souls; for I am sure, we still bring them to repentance.

Purse. By Dis, and so we do.

Sweat. Come, come, will you dis before? thou art one of them that I warrant thee will, be hanged, before thou wilt repent. [Exeunt.

Enter Will Rash, Staines, and Geraldine.

W. Rash. Well, this love is a troublesome thing. Jupiter, bless me out of his fingers; there's no estate can rest for him: he runs through all countries, will travel through the Isle of Man in a minute; but never is quiet till he comes into Middlesex, and there keeps his Christmas: 'tis his habitation, his mansion, from whence he'll never out till he be fired.

Gera. Well, do not tyrannise too much, lest one day he make you know his deity, by sending a shaft out of a sparkling eye shall strike so deep into your heart, that it shall make you fetch your breath short again.

W. Rash. And make me cry, O eyes, no eyes, but two celestial stars![201] A pox on't, I'd as lief hear a fellow sing through the nose. How now, wench?

Enter Gertrude.

Gert. Keep your station: you stand as well for the encounter as may be: she is coming on; but as melancholy as a bass-viol in concert.

W. Rash. Which makes thee as sprightly as the treble. Now dost thou play thy prize: here's the honourable science, one against another. Do you hear, lover; the thing is done you wot of; you shall have your wench alone without any disturbance; now if you can do any good, why so; the silver game be yours; we'll stand by and give aim,[202] and halloo, if you hit the clout.

Staines. A task! what, to win a woman, and have opportunity? I would that were a task, i' faith, for any man that wears his wits about him. Give me but half an hour's conference with the coldest creature of them all; and if I bring her not into a fool's paradise, I'll pull out my tongue, and hang it at her door for a draw-latch. Ud's foot! I'd ne'er stand thrumming of caps for the matter; I'll quickly make trial of her. If she love to have her beauty praised, I'll praise it; if her wit, I'll commend it; if her good parts, I'll exalt them. No course shall 'scape me; for to whatsoever I saw her inclined, to that would I fit her.

W. Rash. But you must not do thus to her; for she's a subtle, flouting rogue, that will laugh you out of countenance, if you solicit her seriously. No, talk me to her wantonly, slightly, and carelessly, and perhaps so you may prevail as much with her as wind does with a sail—carry her whither thou wilt, bully.

Enter Joyce.

Staines. Well, sir, I'll follow your instruction.

W. Rash. Do so: and see, she appears. Fall you two off from us; let us two walk together.

W. Rash. Sister, you're well met. Here's a gentleman desires to be acquainted with you.

Joyce. See, the servingman is turned a gentleman! That villanous wench, my sister, has no mercy. She and my brother have conspired together to play upon me; but I'll prevent their sport; for, rather than my tongue shall have scope to speak matter to give them mirth, my heart shall break. [Aside.]

"By the faith of a soldier, lady, I do reverence the ground that you walk upon. I will fight with him that dares say you are not fair; stab him that will not pledge your health, and with a dagger pierce a vein,[204] to drink a full health to you; but it shall be on this condition, that you shall speak first." Ud's foot! if I could but get her to talk once half my labour were over; but I'll try her in another vein. "What an excellent creature is a woman without a tongue! but what a more excellent creature is a woman that has a tongue, and can hold her peace! but how much more excellent and fortunate a creature is that man that has that woman to his wife!" This cannot choose but mad her; and if anything make a woman talk, 'tis this. It will not do, though, yet. I pray God they have not gulled me. But I'll try once again—

Staines. Not a syllable. Night nor sleep is not more silent. She's as dumb as Westminster Hall in the long vacation.

W. Rash. Well, and what would you have me do?

Staines. Why, make her speak.

W. Rash. And what then?

Staines. Why, let me alone with her.

W. Rash. Ay, so you said before; give you but opportunity, and let you alone—you'd desire no more. But come, I'll try my cunning for you; see what I can do. How do you, sister? I am sorry to hear you are not well. This gentleman tells me you have lost your tongue; I pray, let's see. If you can but make signs whereabout you lost it, we'll go and look for't. In good faith, sister, you look very pale; in my conscience, 'tis for grief. Will you have any comfortable drinks sent for? This is not the way [Aside]; come, walk, seem earnest in discourse, cast not an eye towards her, and you shall see weakness work itself.