Act 4 — [Scene II.][4310]

Fred. And how d’ye like me now? Stew. Most excellent. Fred. Your opinion, Master Littleworth. Little. Your French tailor Has made you a perfect gentleman; I may Converse now with you, and preserve my credit. D’ye find no alteration in your body5 With these new clothes? Fred. My body alter’d? No. Little. You are not yet in fashion then. That must Have a new motion, garb, and posture too, Or all your pride is cast away; it is not The cut of your apparel makes a gallant,10 But the geometrical wearing of your clothes. Stew. Master Littleworth tells you right; you wear your hat Too like a citizen. Little. ’T is like a midwife; Place it with best advantage of your hair.14 Is half your feather moulted? This does make No show; it should spread over, like a canopy; Your hot-rein’d monsieur wears it for a shade And cooler to his back. Your doublet must Be more unbutton’d hereabouts; you’ll not Be a sloven else, a foul shirt is no blemish;20 You must be confident, and outface clean linen. Your doublet and your breeches must be allow’d No private meeting here: your cloak’s too long. It reaches to your buttock, and doth smell Too much of Spanish gravity; the fashion25 Is to wear nothing but a cape; a coat May be allow’d a covering for one elbow, And some, to avoid the trouble, choose to walk In querpo,[4311] thus. Stew. [Aside.] Your coat and cloak’s a brushing In Long-Lane, Lombard.[4312] Fred. But what if it rain?30 Little. Your belt about your shoulder is sufficient To keep off any storm; beside, a reed But wav’d discreetly, has so many pores, It sucks up all the rain that falls about one.34 With this defence, when other men have been Wet to the skin through all their cloaks, I have Defied a tempest, and walk’d by the taverns Dry as a bone. Stew. [Aside.] Because he had no money To call for wine. Fred. Why, do you walk enchanted? Have you such pretty charms in town? But stay;40 Who must I have to attend me? Little. Is not that Yet thought upon? Stew. I have laid out[4313] for servants. Little. They are everywhere. Stew. I cannot yet be furnish’d With such as I would put into his hands. Fred. Of what condition must they be, and how45 Many in number, sir? Little. Beside your fencing, Your singing, dancing, riding, and French master, Two may serve domestic, to be constant waiters Upon a gentleman; a fool, a pimp. Stew. For these two officers I have enquir’d, And I am promis’d a convenient whiskin.[4314]51 I could save charges, and employ the pie-wench. That carries her intelligence in whitepots;[4315] Or ’t is but taking order[4316] with the woman That [trolls][4317] the ballads, she could fit him with55 A concubine to any tune; but I Have a design to place a fellow with him That has read all Sir Pandarus’ works; a Trojan[4318] That lies conceal’d, and is acquainted with Both city and suburban fripperies,[4319]60 Can fetch ’em with a spell at midnight to him, And warrant which are for his turn; can, for A need, supply the surgeon too. Fred. I like thy providence;[4320] such a one deserves A livery twice a year.65 Stew. It sha’ not need; a cast suit of your worship’s Will serve; he’ll find a cloak to cover it, Out of his share with those he brings to bed to you. Fred. But must I call this fellow pimp? Little. It is Not necessary; [Tom,] or Jack, or Harry,70 Or what he ’s known abroad by, will sound better, That men may think he is a Christian. Fred. But hear you, Master Littleworth: is there not A method and degrees of title in Men of this art? Little. According to the honour75 Of men that do employ ’em. An emperor May give this office to a duke; a king May have his viceroy to negociate for him; A duke may use a lord; the lord a knight, A knight may trust a gentleman; and when80 They are abroad, and merry, gentlemen May pimp to one another. Fred. Good, good fellowship! But for the fool now, that should wait on me, And break me jests? Little. A fool is necessary. Stew. By any[4321] means. Fred. But which of these two servants85 Must now take place?[4322] Little. That question, Master Frederick, The school of heraldry should conclude upon: But if my judgment may be heard, the fool Is your first man; and it is known a point Of state to have a fool. Stew. But, sir, the other90 Is held the finer servant; his employments Are full of trust, his person clean and nimble, And none so soon can leap into preferment, Where fools are poor. Little. Not all; there’s story for’t; Princes have been no wiser than they should be. Would any nobleman, that were no fool,95 Spend all in hope of the philosopher’s stone, To buy new lordships in another country? Would knights build colleges, or gentlemen Of good estates challenge the field, and fight,100 Because a whore wo’ not be honest? Come, Fools are a family over all the world; We do affect one naturally; indeed The fool is leiger[4323] with us. Stew. Then the pimp Is extraordinary. Fred. Do not you fall out105 About their places.—Here’s my noble aunt!

Little. How do you like your nephew, madam, now? Lady B. Well!—Turn about, Frederick.— Very well! Fred. Am I not now a proper gentleman? The virtue of rich clothes! Now could I take The wall of Julius Caesar, or affront111 Great Pompey’s upper lip, and defy the senate. Nay, I can be as proud as your own heart, madam, You may take that for your comfort; I put on That virtue with my clothes, and I doubt not But in a little time I shall be impudent116 As any page, or player’s boy. I am Beholding to this gentleman’s good discipline; But I shall do him credit in my practice. Your steward has some pretty notions, too,120 In moral mischief. Lady B. Your desert in this Exceeds all other service, and shall bind me Both to acknowledge and reward. Little. Sweet madam, Think me but worth your favour; I would creep Upon my knees to honour you, and for every125 Minute you lend to my reward, I’ll pay A year of serviceable tribute. Lady B. You Can compliment. Little. (Aside.) Thus still she puts me off; Unless I speak the downright word, she’ll never Understand me. A man would think that creeping130 Upon one’s knees were English to a lady.

Kick. How is’t, Jack.—Pleasures attend you, madam! How does my plant of honour? Lady B. Who is this? Kick. ’T is Alexander. Lady B. Rich and glorious! Little. ’T is Alexander the Great. Kick. And my Bucephalus135 Waits at the door. Lady B. Your case is alter’d, sir. Kick. I cannot help these things, the Fates will have it; ’T is not my land does this. Little. But thou hast a plough That brings it in. Lady B. Now he looks brave and lovely. Fred. Welcome, my gallant Macedonian,140 Kick. Madam, you gave your nephew for my pupil. I read[4324] but in a tavern; if you’ll honour us, The Bear at the Bridge foot shall entertain you. A drawer[4325] is my Ganymede, he shall skink[4326] Brisk nectar to us; we will only have145 A dozen partridge in a dish; as many pheasants, Quails, cocks, and godwits shall come marching up Like the train’d-band;[4327] a fort of sturgeon Shall give most bold defiance to an army, And triumph o’er the table.— Lady B. Sir, it will150 But dull the appetite to hear more, and mine Must be excus’d. Another time I may be Your guest. Kick. ’T is grown in fashion now with ladies; When you please, I ’ll attend you. Littleworth.— Come, Frederick. Fred. We ’ll have music; I love noise.155 We will outroar the Thames, and shake the bridge, boy. Exit [with Kickshaw]. Little. Madam, I kiss your hand; would you would think Of your poor servant: flesh and blood is frail, And troublesome to carry, without help. Lady B. A coach will easily convey it, or160 You may take water at Strand Bridge. Little. But I Have taken fire. Lady B. The Thames will cool [it, sir]. Little. But never quench my heart; your charity Can only do that. Lady B. I will keep it cold Of purpose. Little. Now you bless me, and I dare165 Be drunk in expectation. [Exit.] Lady B. I am confident He knows me not, and I were worse than mad To be my own betrayer.—Here ’s my husband.

Born. Why, how now, Aretina? What! alone? The mystery of this solitude? My house170 Turn desert o’ the sudden! All the gamesters Blown up! Why is the music put to silence? Or have their instruments caught a cold, since we Gave ’em the last heat? I must know thy ground Of melancholy. Lady B. You are merry, as175 You came from kissing Celestina. Born. I Feel her yet warm upon my lip; she is Most excellent company: I did not think There was that sweetness in her sex. I must Acknowledge, ’t was thy cure to disenchant me180 From a dull husband to an active lover. With such a lady I could spend more years Than since my birth my glass hath run soft minutes, And yet be young; her presence hath a spell To keep off age; she has an eye would strike185 Fire through an adamant. Lady B. I have heard as much Bestow’d upon a dull-fac’d chambermaid, Whom love and wit would thus commend. True beauty Is mock’d when we compare thus, itself being Above what can be fetch’d[4328] to make it lovely; Or,[4329] could our thoughts reach something to declare191 The glories of a face, or body’s elegance (That touches but our sense), when beauty spreads Over the soul, and calls up understanding To look [what][4330] thence is offer’d, and admire!195 In both I must acknowledge Celestina Most excellently fair, fair above all The beauties I ha’ seen, and one most worthy Man’s love and wonder. Born. Do you speak, Aretina, This with a pure sense to commend? Or is ’t200 The mockery of my praise? Lady B. Although it shame Myself, I must be just, and give her all The excellency of women; and were I A man— Born. What then? Lady B. I know not with what loss I should attempt her love. She is a piece205 So angelically moving, I should think Frailty excus’d to dote upon her form, And almost virtue to be wicked with her. Exit. Born. What should this mean? This is no jealousy, Or she believes I counterfeit. I feel210 Something within me, like a heat, to give Her cause, would Celestina but consent. What a frail thing is man! It is not worth Our glory to be chaste, while we deny Mirth and converse with women. He is good215 That dares the tempter, yet corrects his blood. Exit.