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The chief Elizabethan dramatists, excluding Shakespeare

Act 3 — [Scene III.]

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Enter at one door Lodovico and Carolo; at another Bots, and Mistress Horseleech. Candido and his Wife appear in the Shop.

Lod. Hist, hist, Lieutenant Bots! How dost, man?

Car. Whither are you ambling, Madam Horseleech?

Mis. H. About worldly profit, sir: how5 do your worships?

Bots. We want tools, gentlemen, to furnish the trade: they wear out day and night, they wear out till no metal be left in their back. We hear of two or three new wenches are come10 up with a carrier, and your old goshawk here is flying at them.

Lod. And, faith, what flesh have you at home?

Mis. H. Ordinary dishes; by my troth,15 sweet men, there’s few good i’ th’ city. I am as well furnisht as any, and, though I say it, as well custom’d.

Bots. We have meats of all sorts of dressing; we have stew’d meat for your Frenchman,20 pretty light picking meat for your Italian, and that which is rotten roasted for Don Spaniardo.

Lod. A pox on ’t.

Bots. We have poulterer’s ware for your sweet bloods, as dove, chicken, duck, teal,25 woodcock, and so forth: and butcher’s meat for the citizen: yet muttons[2530] fall very bad this year.

Lod. Stay, is not that my patient linen-draper yonder, and my fine young smug mistress,30 his wife?

Car. Sirrah,[2531] grannam, I ’ll give thee for thy fee twenty crowns, if thou canst but procure me the wearing of yon velvet cap.

Mis. H. You ’d wear another thing besides35 the cap. You’re a wag.

Bots. Twenty crowns? We ’ll share, and I ’ll be your pully to draw her on.

Lod. Do’t presently; we’ll ha’ some sport.

Mis. H. Wheel you about, sweet men:40 do you see? I’ll cheapen wares of the man, whilst Bots is doing with his wife.

Lod. To ’t: if we come into the shop to do you grace, we’ll call you madam.

Bots. Pox a’ your old face, give it the45 badge of all scurvy faces, a mask.

[Mistress Horseleech puts on a mask.]

Cand. What is ’t you lack, gentlewoman? Cambric or lawns, or fine hollands? Pray draw near; I can sell you a pennyworth.

Bots. Some cambric for my old lady.50

Cand. Cambric? You shall, the purest thread in Milan.

Lod., Car. Save you, Signor Candido.

Lod. How does my noble master? How my fair mistress?55

Cand. My worshipful good servant.—View it well, for ’t is both fine and even.

[Shows cambric.]

Car. Cry you mercy, madam; though mask’d, I thought it should be you by your man.—Pray, signor, show her the best, for she commonly deals for good ware.61

Cand. Then this shall fit her.—This is for your ladyship.

Bots. [to Bride.] A word, I pray. There is a waiting gentlewoman of my lady’s—her65 name is Ruyna—says she’s your kinswoman, and that you should be one of her aunts.

Bride. One of her aunts? Troth, sir, I know her not.69

Bots. If it please you to bestow the poor labour of your legs at any time, I will be your convoy thither.

Bride. I am a snail, sir, seldom leave my house. If ’t please her to visit me, she shall be welcome.75

Bots. Do you hear? The naked truth is, my lady hath a young knight, her son, who loves you; you ’re made, if you lay hold upon ’t; this jewel he sends you.79

[Offers jewel.]

Bride. Sir, I return his love and jewel with scorn. Let go my hand, or I shall call my husband. You are an arrant knave.

Exit.

Lod. What will she do?

Bots. Do? They shall all do if Bots sets upon them once. She was as if she had profest85 the trade, squeamish at first; at last I showed her this jewel, said a knight sent it her.

Lod. Is’t gold, and right stones?

Bots. Copper, copper; I go a fishing with these baits. She nibbled, but would not swallow the hook, because the conger-head, her91 husband, was by; but she bids the gentleman name any afternoon, and she’ll meet him at her garden house,[2532] which I know.

Lod. Is this no lie now?95

Bots. Damme, if—

Lod. Oh, prithee, stay there.

Bots. The twenty crowns, sir.

Lod. Before he has his work done?—But on my knightly word he shall pay ’t thee.100

Enter Astolfo, Beraldo, Fontinell, and the Irish footman [Bryan].

Ast. I thought thou hadst been gone into thine own country.

Bry. No, faat, la, I cannot go dis four or tree days.104

Ber. Look thee, yonder ’s the shop, and that ’s the man himself.

Fon. Thou shalt but cheapen, and do as we told thee, to put a jest upon him, to abuse his patience.109

Bry. I’ faat, I doubt my pate shall be knocked: but, sa crees sa’ me, for your shakes, I will run to any linen-draper in hell. Come, predee.

All. Save you, gallants.

Lod., Car. Oh, well met!115

Cand. You ’ll give no more, you say? I cannot take it.

Mis. H. Truly, I ’ll give no more.

Cand. It must not fetch it. What would you have, sweet gentlemen.120 Ast. Nay, here ’s the customer.

Exeunt Bots and Mistress Horseleech.

Lod. The garden-house, you say? We ’ll bolt[2533] out your roguery. Cand. I will but lay these parcels by—my men Are all at custom house unloading wares.125 If cambric you would deal in, there ’s the best; All Milan cannot sample it.

Lod. Do you hear it? one, two, three,— ’Sfoot, there came in four gallants! Sure your wife is slipt up, and the fourth man, I hold my life, is grafting your warden tree.[2534]131

Cand. Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen are full of jest, If she be up, she ’s gone some wares to show; I have above as good wares as below. Lod. Have you so? Nay, then—135 Cand. Now, gentlemen, is ’t cambrics? Bry. I predee now, let me have de best waures. Cand. What ’s that he says, pray, gentlemen? Lod. Marry, he says we are like to have the best wars.141 Cand. The best wars? All are bad, yet wars do good, And, like to surgeons, let sick kingdom’s blood.

Bry. Faat a devil pratest tow so? a pox on dee! I preddee, let me see some hollen, to make linen shirts, for fear my body be lousy.146

Cand. Indeed, I understand no word he speaks. Car. Marry, he says that at the siege in Holland There was much bawdry us’d among the soldiers, Though they were lousy.150 Cand. It may be so, that ’s likely.—True, indeed, In every garden, sir, does grow that weed.

Bry. Pox on de gardens, and de weeds, and de fool’s cap dere, and de clouts! Hear? dost make a hobby-horse of me.155

[Tearing the cambric.]

All. Oh, fie! he has torn the cambric. Cand. ’T is no matter. Ast. It frets me to the soul. Cand. So does ’t not me. My customers do oft for remnants call, These are two remnants, now, no loss at all. But let me tell you, were my servants here.160 It would ha’ cost more.—Thank you, gentlemen, I use you well, pray know my shop again. Exit. All. Ha, ha, ha! come, come, let ’s go, let ’s go. Exeunt.

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