Volume 2 / Act 3 — ACT III. SCENE I.

Enter Constance and Isabella.

Const. Twas ill luck to have the meeting broke last night, just as Setstone was coming towards him.

Isa. But, in part of recompence, you'll have the pleasure of putting him on farther straits. O, these little mischiefs are meat and drink to me.

Const. He shall tell me from whence he has his money: I am resolved now to try him to the utmost.

Isa. I would devise something for him to do, which he could not possibly perform.

Const. As I live, yonder he comes, with the jewel in his hand he promised me. Pr'ythee, leave me alone with him.

Isa. Speed the plough! If I can make no sport, I'll hinder none. I'll to my knight, Sir Timorous; shortly you shall hear news from Dametas[A].

[Footnote A: A foolish character in Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, who seems to have become proverbial.]

[Exit ISABELLA.

Enter LOVEBY.

Lov. Look you, madam, here's the jewel; do me the favour to accept it, and suppose a very good compliment delivered with it.

Const. Believe me, a very fair jewel. But why will you be at this needless charge? What acknowledgment do you expect? You know I will not marry you.

Lov. How the devil do I know that? I do not conceive myself, under correction, so inconsiderable a person.

Const. You'll alter your partial opinion, when I tell you, 'tis not a flash of wit fires me, nor is it a gay out-side can seduce me to matrimony.

Lov. I am neither fool, nor deformed, so much as to be despicable. What do I want?

Const. A good estate, that makes every thing handsome: Nothing can look well without it.

Lov. Does this jewel express poverty?

Const. I conjure you by your love to me, tell me one truth not minced by your invention, how came you by this jewel?

Lov. 'Tis well I have a voucher. Pray ask your own jeweller, Setstone, if I did not buy it of him.

Const. How glad you are now, you can tell a truth so near a lie. But where had you the money, that purchased it? Come—without circumstances and preambles—

Lov. Umph—Perhaps, that may be a secret.

Const. Say, it be one; yet he, that loved indeed, could not keep it from his mistress.

Lov. Why should you be thus importunate?

Const. Because I cannot think you love me, if you will not trust that to my knowledge, which you conceal from all the world beside.

Lov. You urge me deeply—

Const. Come, sweet servant, you shall tell me; I am resolved to take no denial. Why do you sigh?

Lov. If I be blasted, it must out.

Const. Either tell me, or resolve to take your leave for ever.

Lov. Then know, I have my means,—I know not how.

Const. This is a fine secret.

Lov. Why, then, if you will needs know, 'tis from the devil; I have money from him, what, and when I please.

Const. Have you sealed a covenant, and given away your soul for money?

Lov. No such thing intended on my part.

Const. How then?

Lov. I know not yet what conditions he'll propose. I should have spoke with him last night, but that a cross chance hindered it.

Const. Well, my opinion is, some great lady, that is in love with you, supplies you still; and you tell me an incredible tale of the devil, merely to shadow your infidelity.

Lov. Devise some means to try me.

Const. I take you at your word. You shall swear freely to bestow on me whatever you shall gain this unknown way; and, for a proof, because you tell me you can have money, what, and when you please, bring me a hundred pounds ere night.—If I do marry him for a wit, I'll see what he can do; he shall have none from me. [Aside.

Lov. You overjoy me, madam; you shall have it, an 'twere twice as much.

Const. How's this?

Lov. The devil a cross that I have, or know where to get; but I must promise well, to save my credit.—Now, devil, if thou dost forsake me!

[Aside.

Const. I mistrust you; and, therefore, if you fail, I'll have your hand to show against you; here's ink and paper. [LOVEBY writes.

Enter BURR, and TIMOROUS.

Burr. What makes Loveby yonder? He's writing somewhat.

Tim. I'll go see. [Looks over him.

Lov. Have you no more manners than to overlook a man when he's a writing?—Oh! is't you, Sir Timorous? You may stand still; now I think on't, you cannot read written hand.

Burr. You are very familiar with Sir Timorous.

Lov. So am I with his companions, sir.

Burr. Then there's hopes you and I may be better acquainted. I am one of his companions.

Lov. By what title? as you are an ass, sir?

Const. No more, Loveby.

Lov. I need not, madam. Alas! this fellow is only the solicitor of a quarrel, 'till he has brought it to an head; and will leave the fighting part to the courteous pledger. Do not I know these fellows? You shall as soon persuade a mastiff to fasten on a lion, as one of those to engage with a courage above their own: They know well enough whom they can beat, and who can beat them.

_Enter _FAILER at a distance.

Fail. Yonder they are: Now, would I compound for a reasonable sum, that I were friends with Burr. If I am not, I shall lose Sir Timorous.

Const. O, servant, have I spied you? let me run into your arms.

Fail. I renounce my lady Constance: I vow to gad, I renounce her.

Tim. To your task, Burr.

Enter NONSUCH and ISABELLA.

Const. Hold, gentlemen! no sign of quarrel.

Non. O, friends! I think I shall go mad with grief: I have lost more money.

Lov. Would I had it: that's all the harm I wish myself. Your servant, madam; I go about the business.

Exit LOVEBY.

Non. What! does he take no pity on me?

Const. Pr'ythee, moan him, Isabella.

Isa. Alas, alas, poor uncle! could they find in their hearts to rob him!

Non. Five hundred pounds, out of poor six thousand pounds a-year! I, and mine, are undone for ever.

Fail. Your own house, you think, is clear, my lord?

Const. I dare answer for all there, as much as for myself.

Burr. Oh, that he would but think that Loveby had it!

Fail. If you'll be friends with me, I'll try what I can persuade him to.

Burr. Here's my hand, I will, dear heart.

Fail. Your own house being clear, my lord, I am apt to suspect this Loveby for such a person. Did you mark how abruptly he went out?

Non. He did indeed, Mr Failer. But why should I suspect him? his carriage is fair, and his means great; he could never live after this rate, if it were not.

Fail. This still renders him the more suspicious: He has no land, to my knowledge.

Burr. Well said, mischief. [Aside.

Const. My father's credulous, and this rogue has found the blind side of him; would Loveby heard him! [To ISABELLA.

Fail. He has no means, and he loses at play; so that, for my part, I protest to gad, I am resolved he picks locks for his living.

Burr. Nay, to my knowledge, he picks locks.

Tim. And to mine.

Fail. No longer ago than last night he met me in the dark, and offered to dive into my pockets.

Non. That's a main argument for suspicion.

Fail. I remember once, when the keys of the Exchequer were lost in the Rump-time, he was sent for upon an extremity, and, egad, he opens me all the locks with the blade-bone of a breast of mutton.

Non. Who, this Loveby?

Fail. This very Loveby. Another time, when we had sate up very late at ombre in the country, and were hungry towards morning, he plucks me out (I vow to gad I tell you no lie) four ten-penny nails from the dairy lock with his teeth, fetches me out a mess of milk, and knocks me 'em in again with his head, upon reputation.

Isa. Thou boy!

Non. What shall I do in this case? My comfort is, my gold's all marked.

Const. Will you suspect a gentleman of Loveby's worth, upon the bare report of such a rascal as this Failer?

Non. Hold thy tongue, I charge thee; upon my blessing hold thy tongue. I'll have him apprehended before he sleeps; come along with me, Mr Failer.

Fail. Burr, look well to Sir Timorous; I'll be with you instantly.

Const. I'll watch you by your favour. [Aside. [Exeunt NONSUCH and FAILER, CONSTANCE following them.

Isa. A word, Sir Timorous.

Burr. [Gets behind.] She shall have a course at the knight, and come up to him, but when she is just ready to pinch, he shall give such a loose from her, shall break her heart.

Isa. Burr there still, and watching us? There's certainly some plot in this, but I'll turn it to my own advantage. [Aside.

_Tim. Did you mark Burr's retirement, madam?

Isa Ay; his guilt, it seems, makes him shun your company.

Tim. In what can he be guilty?

Isa. You must needs know it; he courts your mistress.

Tim. Is he, too, in love with my lady Constance?

Isa. No, no: but, which is worse, he courts me.

Tim. Why, what have I to do with you? You know I care not this for you.

Isa. Perhaps so; but he thought you did: and good reason for it.

Tim. What reason, madam?

Isa. The most convincing in the world: He knew my cousin Constance never loved you: He has heard her say, you were as invincibly ignorant as a town-fop judging a new play: as shame-faced as a great overgrown school-boy: in fine, good for nothing but to be wormed out of your estate, and sacrificed to the god of laughter.

Tim. Was your cousin so barbarous to say this?

Isa. In his hearing.

Tim. And would he let me proceed in my suit to her?

Isa. For that I must excuse him; he never thought you could love one of my cousin's humour; but took your court to her, only as a blind to your affection for me; and, being possessed with that opinion, he thought himself as worthy as you to marry me.

Tim. He is not half so worthy; and so I'll tell him, in a fair way.

Burr. [To a Boy entering.] Sirrah, boy, deliver this note to madam Isabella; but be not known I am so near.

Boy. I warrant you, sir.

Burr. Now, Fortune, all I desire of thee is, that Sir Timorous may see it; if he once be brought to believe there is a kindness between her and me, it will ruin all her projects.

Isa. [To the Boy.] From whom?

Boy. From Mr Burr, madam.

Isa. [Reads.] These for Madam Isabella. Dear rogue, Sir Timorous knows nothing of our kindness, nor shall for me; seem still to have designs upon him; it will hide thy affection the better to thy servant, BURR.

Isa. Alas, poor woodcock, dost thou go a-birding? Thou hast e'en set a springe to catch thy own neck. Look you here, Sir Timorous; here's something to confirm what I have told you. [Gives him the letter.

Tim. D, e, a, r, dear; r, o, g, u, e, rogue. Pray, madam, read it; this written hand is such a damned pedantic thing, I could never away with it.

Isa. He would fain have robbed you of me: Lord, Lord! to see the malice of a man.

Tim. She has persuaded me so damnably, that I begin to think she's my mistress indeed.

Isa. Your mistress? why, I hope you are not to doubt that, at this time of day. I was your mistress from the first day you ever saw me.

Tim. Nay, like enough you were so; but I vow to gad now, I was wholly ignorant of my own affection.

Isa. And this rogue pretends he has an interest in me, merely to defeat you: Look you, look you, where he stands in ambush, like a Jesuit behind a Quaker, to see how his design will take.

Tim. I see the rogue: Now could I find in my heart to marry you in spite to him; what think you on't, in a fair way?

Isa. I have brought him about as I could wish; and now I'll make my own conditions. [Aside.] Sir Timorous, I wish you well; but he I marry must promise me to live at London: I cannot abide to be in the country, like a wild beast in the wilderness, with no Christian soul about me.

Tim. Why, I'll bear you company.

Isa. I cannot endure your early hunting-matches there; to have my sleep disturbed by break of day, with heigh, Jowler, Jowler! there Venus, ah Beauty! and then a serenade of deep-mouthed curs, to answer the salutation of the huntsman, as if hell were broke loose about me: and all this to meet a pack of gentlemen savages, to ride all day, like mad-men, for the immortal fame of being first in at the hare's death: to come upon the spur, after a trial at four in the afternoon, to destruction of cold meat and cheese, with your lewd company in boots; fall a-drinking till supper time, be carried to bed, tossed out of your cellar, and be good for nothing all the night after.

Tim. Well, madam, what is it you would be at? you shall find me reasonable to all your propositions.

Isa. I have but one condition more to add; for I will be as reasonable as you; and that is a very poor request—to have all the money in my disposing.

Tim. How, all the money?

Isa. Ay, for I am sure I can huswife it better for your honour; not but that I shall be willing to encourage you with pocket-money, or so, sometimes.

Tim. This is somewhat hard.

Isa. Nay, if a woman cannot do that, I shall think you have an ill opinion of my virtue: Not trust your own flesh and blood, Sir Timorous?

Tim. Well, is there any thing more behind?

Isa. Nothing more, only the choice of my own company, my own hours, and my own actions: These trifles granted me, in all things of moment, I am your most obedient wife and servant, Isabella.

Tim. Is't a match, then?

Isa. For once I am content it shall; but 'tis to redeem you from those rascals, Burr and Failer—that way, Sir Timorous, for fear of spies; I'll meet you at the garden door.—[Exit TIMOROUS.] I have led all women the way, if they dare but follow me. And now march off, if I can scape but spying, With my drums beating, and my colours flying.

[Exit.

Burr. So, their wooing's at an end; thanks to my wit.

Enter FAILER.

Fail. O Burr! whither is it Sir Timorous and Madam Isabella are gone together?

Burr. Adore my wit, boy; they are parted, never to meet again.

Fail. I saw them meet just now at the garden-door: So ho, ho, ho, who's within there! Help here quickly, quickly.

Enter NONSUCH and two Servants.

Non. What's the matter?

Fail. Your niece Isabella has stolen away Sir Timorous.

Non. Which way took they?

Fail. Follow me, I'll show you.

Non. Break your necks after him, you idle varlets.

[Exeunt.