Act 1 — [Scene I.][4233]

Stew. Be patient, madam; you may have your pleasure. Lady B.[4234] ’T is that I came to town for. I would not Endure again the country conversation, To be the lady of six shires! The men, So near the primitive making, they retain5 A sense of nothing but the earth; their brains, And barren heads standing as much in want Of ploughing as their ground. To hear a fellow Make himself merry and his horse, with whistling Sellinger’s Round![4235] To observe with what solemnity10 They keep their wakes, and throw for pewter candle-sticks! How they become the morris, with whose bells They ring all in to Whitsun-ales; and sweat, Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobby-horse[4236] Tire, and the Maid Marian,[4236] dissolv’d to a jelly, Be kept for spoon meat!16 Stew. These, with your pardon, are no argument To make the country life appear so hateful; At least to your particular, who enjoy’d A blessing in that calm, would you be pleas’d20 To think so, and the pleasure of a kingdom; While your own will commanded what should move Delights, your husband’s love and power join’d To give your life more harmony. You liv’d there Secure, and innocent, belov’d of all;25 Prais’d for your hospitality, and pray’d for: You might be envi’d, but malice knew Not where you dwelt. I would not prophesy, But leave to your own apprehension, What may succeed your change. Lady B. You do imagine,30 No doubt, you have talk’d wisely, and confuted London past all defence. Your master should Do well to send you back into the country, With title of superintendent-bailiff. Stew. How, madam! Lady B. Even so, sir. Stew. I am a gentleman,35 Though now your servant. Lady B. A country gentleman, By your affection to converse with stubble. His tenants will advance your wit, and plump it so With beef and bag-pudding! Stew. You may say your pleasure, It becomes not me dispute. Lady B. Complain to40 The lord of the soil, your master. Stew. You ’re a woman Of an ungovern’d passion, and I pity you.

Born. How now? What ’s the matter? Stew. Nothing, sir. [Exit.] Born. Angry, sweetheart? Lady B. I am angry with myself, To be so miserably restrain’d in things,45 Wherein it doth concern your love and honour To see me satisfied. Born. In what, Aretina, Dost thou accuse me? Have I not obey’d All thy desires? Against mine own opinion Quitted the country, and remov’d the hope50 Of our return, by sale of that fair lordship We liv’d in? Chang’d a calm and retir’d life For this wild town, compos’d of noise and charge?[4237] Lady B. What charge, more than is necessary for A lady of my birth and education?55 Born. I am not ignorant how much nobility Flows in your blood; your kinsmen great and powerful I’ th’ state; but with this, lose not you memory Of being my wife. I shall be studious, Madam, to give the dignity of your birth60 All the best ornaments which become my fortune; But would not flatter it, to ruin both, And be the fable of the town, to teach Other men loss of wit by mine, employ’d To serve your vast expenses. Lady B. Am I then65 Brought in the balance? So, sir! Born. Though you weigh Me in a partial[4238] scale, my heart is honest, And must take liberty to think you have Obey’d no modest counsel, to affect,[4239]69 Nay, study ways of pride and costly ceremony: Your change of gaudy furniture, and pictures Of this Italian master, and that Dutchman’s; Your mighty looking-glasses, like artillery, Brought home on engines; the superfluous plate, Antique and novel; vanities of tires;[4240]75 Fourscore-pound suppers for my lord, your kinsman, Banquets for t’ other lady aunt, and cousins, And perfumes that exceed all: train of servants, To stifle us at home, and show abroad More motley than the French or the Venetian,80 About your coach, whose rude postillion Must pester[4241] every narrow lane, till passengers And tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls; And common cries pursue your ladyship, For hind’ring o’ their market. Lady B. Have you done, sir?85 Born. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe, And prodigal embroideries, under which Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare Not show their own complexions; your jewels, Able to burn out the spectators’ eyes,90 And show like bonfires on you by the tapers. Something might here be spar’d, with safety of Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers.— I could urge something more. Lady B. Pray do, I like95 Your homily of thrift. Born. I could wish, madam, You would not game so much. Lady B. A gamester too! Born. But are not come to that acquaintance yet, Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit. You look not through the subtilty of cards,100 And mysteries of dice; nor can you save Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls, And keep your family by the precious income; Nor do I wish you should: my poorest servant Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire,105 Purchas’d beneath my honour. You make play Not a pastime but a tyranny, and vex Yourself and my estate by it. Lady B. Good! proceed. Born. Another game you have, which consumes more Your fame than purse; your revels in the night,110 Your meetings called the “Ball,” to which repair, As to the Court of Pleasure, all your gallants And ladies, thither bound by a subpoena Of Venus, and small Cupid’s high displeasure; ’T is but the Family of Love[4242] translated115 Into more costly sin! There was a play on ’t,[4243] And had the poet not been brib’d to a modest Expression of your antic gambols in ’t, Some darks had been discovered, and the deeds too. In time he may repent, and make some blush, To see the second part danc’d on the stage,121 My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me By any foul act; but the virtuous know ’T is not enough to clear ourselves, but the Suspicions of our shame. Lady B. Have you concluded125 Your lecture? Born. I ha’ done; and howsoever My language may appear to you, it carries No other than my fair and just intent To your delights, without curb to their modest[4244] And noble freedom. Lady B. I ’ll not be so tedious130 In my reply; but, without art or elegance, Assure you, I keep still my first opinion: And though you veil your avaricious meaning With handsome names of modesty and thrift, I find you would intrench and wound the liberty135 I was born with. Were my desires unprivileg’d By example, while my judgment thought ’em fit, You ought not to oppose; but when the practice And track of every honourable lady Authorise me, I take it great injustice140 To have my pleasures circumscrib’d, and taught me. A narrow-minded husband is a thief To his own fame, and his preferment too; He shuts his parts and fortunes from the world, While, from the popular vote and knowledge, men145 Rise to employment in the state. Born. I have No great ambition to buy preferment at So dear a rate. Lady B. Nor I to sell my honour, By living poor and sparingly. I was not Bred in that ebb of fortune, and my fate150 Shall not compel me to it. Born. I know not, Madam; but you pursue these ways— Lady B. What ways? Born. In the strict sense of honesty, I dare Make oath they are innocent. Lady B. Do not divert, By busy troubling of your brain, those thoughts That should preserve ’em. Born. How was that? Lady B. ’T is English.156 Born. But carries some unkind sense.

Dec. Good morrow, my sweet madam. Lady B. Decoy! welcome; This visit is a favour. Dec. Alas, sweet madam, I cannot stay: I came but to present160 My service to your ladyship; I could not Pass by your door, but I must take the boldness To tender my respects. Lady B. You oblige me, madam; But I must not dispense so with your absence. Dec. Alas, the coach, madam, stays for me at the door.165 Lady B. Thou sha’t command mine; prithee, sweet Decoy— Dec. I would wait on you, madam, but I have many Visits to make this morning; I beseech— Lady B. So you will promise to dine with me. Dec. I shall Present a guest. Lady B. Why, then good morrow, madam. Dec. A happy day shine on your ladyship!171 Exit.

Lady B. What’s your news, sir? Stew. Madam, two gentlemen. Lady B. What gentlemen? Have they no names? Stew. They are The gentleman with his own head of hair, Whom you commended for his horsemanship175 In Hyde Park, and becoming so the saddle, The t’ other day. Lady B. What circumstance is this To know him by? Stew. His name ’s at my tongue’s end:— He lik’d the fashion of your pearl chain, madam; And borrowed it for his jeweller to take180 A copy by it. Born. [Aside.] What cheating gallant ’s this? Stew. That never walks without a lady’s busk,[4245] And plays with fans—Master Alexander Kickshaw,— I thought I should remember him. Lady B. What ’s the other? Stew. What an unlucky memory I have!185 The gallant that still danceth in the street, And wears a gross of ribbon in his hat; That carries oringado[4246] in his pocket, And sugar-plums, to sweeten his discourse; That studies compliment, defies all wit190 In black, and censures plays that are not bawdy— Master John Littleworth. Lady B. They are welcome; but Pray entertain them a small time, lest I Be unprovided. Born. Did they ask for me? Stew. No, sir. Born. It matters not, they must be welcome. Lady B. Fie! how ’s this hair disordered? Here ’s a curl196 Straddles most impiously. I must to my closet. Exit. Born. Wait on ’em; my lady will return again. [Exit Steward.] I have to such a height fulfill’d[4247] her humour, All application ’s[4248] dangerous: these gallants200 Must be receiv’d, or she will fall into A tempest, and the house be shook with names Of all her kindred. ’T is a servitude I may in time shake off.

Kick. and Little. Save you, Sir Thomas! Born. Save you, gentlemen! Kick. I kiss your hand.205 Born. What[4249] day is it abroad? Little. The morning rises from your lady’s eye: If she look clear, we take the happy omen Of a fair day. Born. She ’ll instantly appear, To the discredit of your compliment;210 But you express your wit thus. Kick. And you modesty, Not to affect[4250] the praises of your own. Born. Leaving this subject, what game ’s now on foot? What exercise carries the general vote O’ the town? Nothing moves without your knowledge.215 Kick. The cocking now has all the noise; I ’ll have A hundred pieces of one battle.—Oh, These birds of Mars! Little. Venus is Mars his bird too. Kick. Why, and the pretty doves are Venus’s, To show that kisses draw the chariot.220 Little. I am for that skirmish. Born. When shall we have More booths and bagpipes upon Banstead downs? No mighty race is expected?—But my lady Returns!

Lady B. Fair morning to you, gentlemen! You went not late to bed by your early visit.225 You do me honour. Kick. It becomes our service. Lady B. What news abroad? You hold precious intelligence. Little. All tongues are so much busy with your praise, They have not time to frame other discourse. Will ’t please you, madam, taste a sugar-plum? Born. What does the goldsmith think the pearl is worth231 You borrowed of my lady? Kick. ’T is a rich one. Born. She has many other toys, whose fashion you Will like extremely: you have no intention To buy any of her jewels? Kick. Understand me—235 Born. You had rather sell, perhaps. But, leaving this, I hope you ’ll dine with us. Kick. I came a’ purpose. Lady B. And where were you last night? Kick. I, madam? Where I slept not; it had been sin, where so much Delight and beauty was to keep me waking.240 There is a lady, madam, will be worth Your free society; my conversation Ne’er knew so elegant and brave a soul, With most incomparable flesh and blood; So spirited! so courtly! speaks the languages,245 Sings, dances, plays o’ th’ lute to admiration! Is fair, and paints not; games too, keeps a table, And talks most witty satire; has a wit Of a clean Mercury— Little. Is she married? Kick. No. Lady B. A virgin? Kick. Neither. Little. What! a widow! Something Of this wide commendation might have251 Excus’d. This such a prodigy! Kick. Repent, Before I name her: she did never see Yet full sixteen, an age, in the opinion Of wise men, not contemptible. She has255 Mourn’d out her year, too, for the honest knight That had compassion of her youth, and died So timely. Such a widow is not common; And now she shines more fresh and tempting Than any natural virgin. Lady B. What ’s her name?260 Kick. She was christened Celestina; by her husband, The Lady Bellamour: this ring was hers. Born. You borrowed it to copy out the posy. Kick. Are they not pretty rubies? ’t was a grace She was pleas’d to show me, that I might have one265 Made of the self-same fashion; for I love All pretty forms. Lady B. And is she glorious? Kick. She is full of jewels, madam; but I am Most taken with the bravery of her mind, Although her garments have all grace and ornament.270 Lady B. You have been high in praises. Kick. I come short; No flattery can reach her. Born. [Aside.] Now my lady Is troubled, as she fear’d to be eclips’d: This news will cost me somewhat. Lady B. You deserve Her favour, for this noble character.275 Kick. And I possess it, by my stars benevolence. Lady B. You must bring us acquainted. Born. I pray do, sir; I long to see her too.—Madam, I have Thought upon ’t, and corrected my opinion. Pursue what ways of pleasure your desires280 Incline you to, not only with my state, But with my person; I will follow you. I see the folly of my thrift, and will Repent in sack and prodigality, To your own heart’s content. Lady B. But do not mock.285 Born. Take me to your embraces, gentlemen, And tutor me. Little. And will you kiss the ladies? Born. And sing and dance. I long to see this beauty; I would fain lose a hundred pounds at dice now. Thou sha’t have another gown and petticoat290 To-morrow. Will you sell my running-horses? We have no Greek wine in the house, I think; Pray send one of our footmen to the merchant, And throw the hogshead of March-beer into294 The kennel,[4251] to make room for sack and claret. What think you to be drunk yet before dinner? We will have constant music, and maintain Them and their fiddles in fantastic liveries: I ’ll tune my voice to catches. I must have My dining-room enlarg’d, to invite ambassadors.300 We ’ll feast the parish in the fields, and teach The military men new discipline, Who shall charge all their great artillery With oranges and lemons, boy, to play All dinner upon our capons. Kick. He ’s exalted!305 Born. I will do anything to please my lady, Let that suffice; and kiss o’ th’ same condition. I am converted; do not you dispute, But patiently allow the miracle. Lady B. I am glad to hear you, sir, in so good tune.310

Serv. Madam, the painter. Lady B. I am to sit this morning. Born. Do, while I give new directions to my steward. Kick. With your favour, we’ll wait on you: sitting’s but A melancholy exercise without Some company to discourse. Lady B. It does conclude315 A lady’s morning work. We rise, make fine, Sit for our picture, and ’t is time to dine. Little. Praying’s forgot. Kick. ’T is out of fashion. Exeunt.