Act 3 — ACT III. SCENE I.
Reading edition
The Country Wench’s Lodging.
The Country Wench[1046] discovered, dressed gentlewoman-like, in a new-fashioned gown: the Tailor points[1047] it; while Mistress Comings, a tirewoman,[1048] is busy about her head: Hellgill looking on.
Hell. You talk of an alteration: here’s the thing itself. What base birth does not raiment make glorious? and what glorious births do not rags make infamous? Why should not a woman confess what she is now, since the finest are but deluding shadows, begot between tirewomen and tailors? for instance, behold their parents!
Mis. C. Say what you will, this wire becomes you best.—How say you, tailor?
Tai. I promise you ’tis a wire would draw me from my work seven days a-week.
Coun. W. Why, do you work a’ Sundays, tailor?
Tai. Hardest of all a’ Sundays, because we are most forbidden.
Coun. W. Troth, and so do most of us women; the better day the better deed, we think.
Mis. C. Excellent, exceeding, i’faith! a narrow-eared wire sets out a cheek so fat and so full: and if you be ruled by me, you shall wear your hair still like a mock-face behind: ’tis such an Italian world, many men know not before from behind.
462Tai. How like you the sitting of this gown now, mistress Comings?
Mis. C. It sits at marvellous good ease and comely discretion.
Hell. Who would think now this fine sophisticated squal came out of the bosom of a barn, and the loins of a hay-tosser?
Coun. W. Out, you saucy, pestiferous pander! I scorn that, i’faith.
Hell. Excellent! already the true phrase and style of a strumpet. Stay; a little more of the red, and then I take my leave of your cheek for four and twenty hours.—Do you not think it impossible that her own father should know her now, if he saw her?
Coun. W. Why, I think no less: how can he know me, when I scarce know myself?
Hell. ’Tis right.
Coun. W. But so well you lay wait for a man for me!
Hell. I protest I have bestowed much labour about it; and in fit time, good news I hope.
Enter Hellgill’s Servant[1049] bringing in the Country Wench’s Father disguised.
Ser. I’ve found one yet at last, in whose preferment I hope to reap credit.
Coun. W. Is that the fellow?
Ser. Lady, it is.
Coun. W. Art thou willing to serve me, fellow?
Fath. So please you, he that has not the heart to serve such a mistress as your beautiful self, deserves to be honoured for a fool, or knighted for a coward.
463Coun. W. There’s too many of them already.
Fath. ’Twere sin then to raise the number.
Coun. W. Well, we’ll try both our likings for a month, and then either proceed or let fall the suit.
Fath. Be it as you have spoke, but ’tis my hope A longer term.
Coun. W. No, truly; our term ends once a-month: we should get more than the lawyers, for they have but four terms a-year, and we have twelve, and that makes ’em run so fast to us in the vacation.
Fath. A mistress of a choice beauty! Amongst such imperfect creatures I ha’ not seen a perfecter. I should have reckoned the fortunes of my daughter amongst the happiest, had she lighted into such a service; whereas now I rest doubtful whom or where she serves. [Aside.
Coun. W. There’s for your bodily advice, tailor; and there’s for your head-counsel [giving money to the Tailor and to Mistress Comings]; and I discharge you both till to-morrow morning again.
Tai. At which time our neatest attendance.
Mis. C. I pray, have an especial care, howsoever you stand or lie, that nothing fall upon your hair to batter your wire.
Coun. W. I warrant you for that. [Exit Mis. C. with Tailor.]—Which gown becomes me best now, the purple satin or this?
Hell. If my opinion might rule over you——
Enter Lethe, Rearage, and Salewood.
Let. Come, gallants, I’ll bring you to a beauty shall strike your eyes into your hearts: what you see, you shall desire, yet never enjoy.
Rear. And that’s a villanous torment.
Sale. And is she but your underput, master Lethe?
464Let. No more, of my credit; and a gentlewoman of a great house, noble parentage, unmatchable education, my plain pung. I may grace her with the name of a courtesan, a backslider, a prostitution, or such a toy;[1050] but when all comes to all, ’tis but a plain pung. Look you, gentlemen, that’s she; behold her!
Coun. W. O my beloved strayer! I consume in thy absence.
Let. La, you now! You shall not say I’ll be proud to you, gentlemen; I give you leave to salute her.—I’m afraid of nothing now, but that she’ll utterly disgrace ’em, turn tail to ’em, and place their kisses behind her. No, by my faith, she deceives me; by my troth, sh’as kissed ’em both with her lips. I thank you for that music, masters. ’Slid, they both court her at once; and see, if she ha’ not the wit to stand still and let ’em! I think if two men were brewed into one, there is that woman would drink ’em up both. [Aside.
Rear. A coxcomb! he a courtier?
Coun. W. He says he has a place there.
Sale. So has the fool, a better place than he, and can come where he dare not shew his head.
Let. Nay, hear you me, gentlemen——
Sale. I protest you were the last man we spoke on: we’re a little busy yet; pray, stay there awhile; we’ll come to you presently.
Let. This is good, i’faith: endure this, and be a slave for ever! Since you neither savour of good breeding nor bringing up, I’ll slice your hamstrings, but I’ll make you shew mannerly. [Aside.]—Pox on you, leave courting: I ha’ not the heart to hurt an Englishman, i’faith, or else——
465Sale. What else?
Let. Prithee, let’s be merry; nothing else.—Here, fetch some wine.
Coun. W. Let my servant go for’t.
Let. Yours? which is he?
Fath.[1051] This, sir.—But I scarce like my mistress now: the loins can ne’er be safe where the flies be so busy.
Wit, by experience bought, foils wit at school:
Who proves a deeper knave than a spent fool? [Aside.
I am gone for your worship’s wine, sir. [Exit.
Hell. Sir, you put up too much indignity; bring company to cut your own throat. The fire is not yet so hot, that you need two screens before it; ’tis but new kindled yet: if ’twere risse[1052] to a flame, I could not blame you then to put others before you; but, alas, all the heat yet is comfortable; a cherisher, not a defacer!
Let. Prithee, let ’em alone; they’ll be ashamed on’t anon, I trow, if they have any grace in ’em.
Hell. I’d fain have him quarrel, fight, and be assuredly killed, that I might beg his place, for there’s ne’er a one void yet. [Aside.
Enter Shortyard and Easy.
Coun. W. You’ll make him mad anon.
Sale. ’Tis to that end.
Sho. Yet at last master Quomodo is as firm as his promise.
Easy. Did I not tell you still he would?
Sho. Let me see; I am seven hundred pound in bond now to the rascal.
466Easy. Nay, you’re no less, master Blastfield; look to’t. By my troth, I must needs confess, sir, you ha’ been uncommonly kind to me since I ha’ been in town: but master Alsup shall know on’t.
Sho. That’s my ambition, sir.
Easy. I beseech you, sir,—
Stay, this is Lethe’s haunt; see, we have catch’d him.
Let. Master Blastfield and master Easy? you’re kind gentlemen both.
Sho. Is that the beauty you famed so?
Let. The same.
Sho. Who be those so industrious about her?
Let. Rearage and Salewood: I’ll tell you the unmannerliest trick of ’em that ever you heard in your life.
Sho. Prithee, what’s that?
Let. I invited ’em hither to look upon her; brought ’em along with me; gave ’em leave to salute her in kindness: what do they but most saucily fall in love with her, very impudently court her for themselves, and, like two crafty attorneys, finding a hole in my lease, go about to defeat me of my right?
Sho. Ha’ they so little conscience?
Let. The most uncivilest part that you have seen! I know they’ll be sorry for’t when they have done; for there’s no man but gives a sigh after his sin of women; I know it by myself.
Sho. You parcel of a rude, saucy, and unmannerly nation——
Let. One good thing in him, he’ll tell ’em on’t roundly.
[Aside.
Sho. Cannot a gentleman purchase a little fire to thaw his appetite by, but must you, that have been daily singed in the flame, be as greedy to beguile 467him on’t? How can it appear in you but maliciously, and that you go about to engross hell to yourselves? heaven forbid that you should not suffer a stranger to come in! the devil himself is not so unmannerly. I do not think but some of them rather will be wise enough to beg offices there before you, and keep you out; marry, all the spite will be, they cannot sell ’em again.
Easy. Come, are you not to blame? not to give place,—
To us, I mean.
Let. A worse and[1053] worse disgrace!
Coun. W. Nay, gentlemen, you wrong us both then: stand from me; I protest I’ll draw my silver bodkin upon you.
Sho. Clubs, clubs![1054]—Gentlemen, stand upon your guard.
Coun. W. A gentlewoman must swagger a little now and then, I perceive; there would be no civility in her chamber else. Though it be my hard fortune to have my keeper there a coward, the thing that’s kept is a gentlewoman born.
Sho. And, to conclude, a coward, infallible of your side: why do you think, i’faith, I took you to be a coward? do I think you’ll turn your back to any man living? you’ll be whipt first.
Easy. And then indeed she turns her back to some man living.
Sho. But that man shews himself a knave, for he dares not shew his own face when he does it; for some of the common council in Henry the Eighth’s days thought it modesty at that time that one vizzard should look upon another.
468Easy. ’Twas honestly considered of ’em, i’faith.
Enter Mother Gruel.
Sho. How now? what piece of stuff comes here?
Let. Now, some good news yet to recover my repute, and grace me in this company. [Aside.]—Gentlemen, are we friends among ourselves?
Sho. United.
Re-enter Father with wine.
Let. Then here comes Rhenish to confirm our amity.—Wagtail, salute them all; they are friends.
Coun. W. Then, saving my quarrel, to you all.
Sho. To’s all. [They drink.
Coun. W. Now beshrew your hearts, and[1055] you do not.
Sho. To sweet master Lethe.
Let. Let it flow this way, dear master Blastfield.—Gentlemen, to you all.
Sho. This Rhenish wine is like the scouring stick to a gun, it makes the barrel clear; it has an excellent virtue, it keeps all the sinks in man and woman’s body sweet in June and July; and, to say truth, if ditches were not cast once a-year, and drabs once a-month, there would be no abiding i’ th’ city.
Let. Gentlemen, I’ll make you privy to a letter I sent.
Sho. A letter comes well after privy; it makes amends.
Let. There’s one Quomodo a draper’s daughter in town, whom for her happy portion I wealthily affect.
469Rear. And not for love?—This makes for me his rival:
Bear witness. [To Salewood.
Let. The father does elect me for the man,
The daughter says the same.
Sho. Are you not well?
Let. Yes, all but for the mother; she’s my sickness.
Sho. Byrlady,[1056] and the mother[1057] is a pestilent, wilful, troublesome sickness, I can tell you, if she light upon you handsomely.
Let. I find it so: she for a stranger pleads,
Whose name I ha’ not learn’d.
Rear. And e’en now he called me by it. [Aside.
Let. Now, as my letter told her, since only her consent kept aloof off,[1058] what might I think on’t but that she merely[1059] doted upon me herself?
Sho. Very assuredly.
Sale. This makes still for you.
Sho. Did you let it go so, i’faith?
Let. You may believe it, sir.—Now, what says her answer?
Sho. Ay, her answer.
Moth. G. She says you’re a base, proud knave, and[1060] like your worship.
Let. How!
Sho. Nay, hear out her answer, or there’s no goodness in you.
Moth. G. You ha’ forgot, she says, in what pickle your worship came up, and brought two of your friends to give their words for a suit of green kersey.
470Let. Drudge, peace, or——
Sho. Shew yourself a gentleman: she had the patience to read your letter, which was as bad as this can be: what will she think on’t? not hear her answer!—Speak, good his drudge.
Moth. G. And as for her daughter, she hopes she’ll be ruled by her in time, and not be carried away with a cast of manchets,[1061] a bottle of wine, and a custard; which once made her daughter sick, because you came by it with a bad conscience.
Let. Gentlemen, I’m all in a sweat.
Sho. That’s very wholesome for your body: nay, you must keep in your arms.
Moth. G. Then she demanded of me whether I was your worship’s aunt[1062] or no?
Let. Out, out, out!
Moth. G. Alas, said I, I am a poor drudge of his! Faith, and[1063] thou wert his mother, quoth she, he’d make thee his drudge, I warrant him. Marry, out upon him, quoth I, an’t like your worship.
Let. Horror, horror! I’m smothered: let me go; torment me not. [Exit.
Sho. And[1064] you love me, let’s follow him, gentlemen.
Rear. and Sale. Agreed. [Exeunt.
Sho. I count a hundred pound well spent to pursue a good jest, master Easy.
Easy. By my troth, I begin to bear that mind too.
Sho. Well said, i’faith: hang money! good jests are worth silver at all times.
471Easy. They’re worth gold, master Blastfield.
[Exeunt all except Country Wench and her Father.
Coun. W. Do you deceive me so? Are you toward marriage, i’faith, master Lethe? it shall go hard but I’ll forbid the banes:[1065] I’ll send a messenger into your bones, another into your purse, but I’ll do’t. [Exit.
Fa. Thou fair and wicked creature, steept in art!
Beauteous and fresh, the soul the foulest part.
A common filth is like a house possest,
Where, if not spoil’d, you’ll come out ’fraid at least.
This service likes[1066] not me: though I rest poor,
I hate the basest use to screen a whore.
The human stroke ne’er made him; he that can
Be bawd to woman never leapt from man;
Some monster won his mother.
I wish’d my poor child hither; doubled wrong!
A month and such a mistress were too long.
Yet here awhile in others’ lives I’ll see
How former follies did appear in me. [Exit.