Act 1 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
Another Street in the same Town.
Enter Witgood, meeting Host.
Wit. Mine host!
Host. Young master Witgood!
Wit. I have been laying[16] all the town for thee.
Host. Why, what’s the news, bully Had-land?
Wit. What geldings are in the house, of thine own? answer me to that first.
Host. Why, man, why?
Wit. Mark me what I say: I’ll tell thee such a tale in thine ear, that thou shalt trust me spite of thy teeth, furnish me with some money wille nille, and ride up with me thyself contra voluntatem et professionem.
Host. How? let me see this trick, and I’ll say thou hast more art than a conjurer.
Wit. Dost thou joy in my advancement?
12Host. Do I love sack and ginger?
Wit. Comes my prosperity desiredly to thee?
Host. Come forfeitures to a usurer, fees to an officer, punks to an host, and pigs to a parson desiredly? why, then, la.
Wit. Will the report of a widow of four hundred a-year, boy, make thee leap, and sing, and dance, and come to thy place again?
Host. Wilt thou command me now? I am thy spirit; conjure me into any shape.
Wit. I ha’ brought her from her friends, turned back the horses by a slight;[17] not so much as one among her six men, goodly large yeomanly fellows, will she trust with this her purpose: by this light, all unmanned, regardless of her state, neglectful of vain-glorious ceremony, all for my love. O, ’tis a fine little voluble tongue, mine host, that wins a widow!
Host. No, ’tis a tongue with a great T, my boy, that wins a widow.
Wit. Now, sir, the case stands thus: good mine host, if thou lovest my happiness, assist me.
Host. Command all my beasts i’ th’ house.
Wit. Nay, that’s not all neither: prithee, take truce with thy joy, and listen to me. Thou knowest I have a wealthy uncle i’ th’ city, somewhat the wealthier by my follies: the report of this fortune, well and cunningly carried, might be a means to draw some goodness from the usuring rascal; for I have put her in hope already of some estate that I have either in land or money: now, if I be found true in neither, what may I expect but a sudden breach of our love, utter dissolution of the match, and confusion of my fortunes for ever?
13Host. Wilt thou but trust the managing of thy business with me?
Wit. With thee? why, will I desire to thrive in my purpose? will I hug four hundred a-year, I that know the misery of nothing? Will that man wish a rich widow, that has ne’er a hole to put his head in? With thee, mine host? why, believe it, sooner with thee than with a covey of counsellors.
Host. Thank you for your good report, i’faith, sir; and if I stand you not in stead, why then let an host come off hic et hæc hostis, a deadly enemy to dice, drink, and venery. Come, where’s this widow?
Wit. Hard at Park-end.
Host. I’ll be her serving-man for once.
Wit. Why, there we let off together: keep full time; my thoughts were striking then just the same number.
Host. I knew’t: shall we then see our merry days again?
Wit. Our merry nights—which ne’er shall be more seen. [Aside.]
[Exeunt.