Act 4 — ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in Sir Alex. Wengrave’s House.

Enter Sir Alex. Wengrave.

S. Alex. Unhappy in the follies of a son,

Led against judgment, sense, obedience,

And all the powers of nobleness and wit!

Enter Trapdoor.

O wretched father!—Now, Trapdoor, will she come?

Trap. In man’s apparel, sir; I’m in her heart now,

And share in all her secrets.

S. Alex. Peace, peace, peace!

Here, take my German watch,^[1069] hang’t up in sight,

That I may see her hang in English for’t.

Trap. I warrant you for that now, next sessions rids her, sir. This watch will bring her in better than a hundred constables. [Hangs up the watch.

506S. Alex. Good Trapdoor, sayst thou so? thou cheer’st my heart

After a storm of sorrow. My gold chain too;

Here, take a hundred marks^[1070] in yellow links.

Trap. That will do well to bring the watch to light, sir;

And worth a thousand of your headborough’s lanterns.

S. Alex. Place that a’ the court-cupboard;^[1071] let it lie

Full in the view of her thief-whorish eye.

Trap. She cannot miss it, sir; I see’t so plain,

That I could steal’t myself.

[Places the chain.

S. Alex. Perhaps thou shalt too,

That or something as weighty: what she leaves

Thou shalt come closely in and filch away,

And all the weight upon her back I’ll lay.

Trap. You cannot assure that, sir.

S. Alex. No? what lets^[1072] it?

Trap. Being a stout girl, perhaps she’ll desire pressing;

Then all the weight must lie upon her belly.

S. Alex. Belly or back I care not, so I’ve one.

Trap. You’re of my mind for that, sir.

S. Alex. Hang up my ruff-band with the diamond at it;

It may be she’ll like that best.

Trap. It’s well for her, that she must have her choice; he thinks nothing too good for her. [Aside.]—If you hold on this mind a little longer, it shall be the first work I do to turn thief myself; 507[’t]would do a man good to be hanged when he is so well provided for.

[Hangs up the ruff-band.

S. Alex. So, well said; all hangs well: would she hung so too!

The sight would please me more than all their glisterings.

O that my mysteries^[1073] to such straits should run,

That I must rob myself to bless my son! [Exeunt.

Enter Sebastian Wengrave, Mary Fitzallard disguised as a Page, and Moll in her male dress.

Seb. Thou’st done me a kind office, without touch

Either of sin or shame; our loves are honest.

Moll. I’d scorn to make such shift to bring you together else.

Seb. Now have I time and opportunity

Without all fear to bid thee welcome, love!

[Kisses Mary.

Mary. Never with more desire and harder venture!

Moll. How strange this shews, one man to kiss another!

Seb. I’d kiss such men to choose, Moll;

Methinks a woman’s lip tastes well in a doublet.

Moll. Many an old madam has the better fortune then,

Whose breaths grew stale before the fashion came:

If that will help ’em, as you think ’twill do,

They’ll learn in time to pluck on the hose^[1074] too.

Seb. The older they wax, Moll, troth I speak seriously,

As some have a conceit their drink tastes better

508In an outlandish cup than in our own,

So methinks every kiss she gives me now

In this strange form is worth a pair of two.two.

Here we are safe, and furthest from the eye

Of all suspicion; this is my father’s chamber,

Upon which floor he never steps till night:

Here he mistrusts me not, nor I his coming;

At mine own chamber he still pries unto me,

My freedom is not there at mine own finding,

Still check’d and curb’d; here he shall miss his purpose.

Moll. And what’s your business, now you have your mind, sir?

At your great suit I promis’d you to come:

I pitied her for name’s sake, that a Moll

Should be so crost in love, when there’s so many

That owe^[1075] nine lays^[1076] a-piece, and not so little.

My tailor fitted her; how like you his work?

Seb. So well, no art can mend it, for this purpose:

But to thy wit and help we’re chief in debt,

And must live still beholding.^[1077]

Moll. Any honest pity

I’m willing to bestow upon poor ring-doves.

Seb. I’ll offer no worse play.

Moll. Nay, and^[1078] you should, sir,

I should draw first, and prove the quicker man.

Seb. Hold, there shall need no weapon at this meeting;

But ’cause thou shalt not loose thy fury idle,

Here take this viol, run upon the guts,

And end thy quarrel singing.

[Takes down, and gives her, a viol.

Moll. Like a swan above bridge;^[1079]

509For look you here’s the bridge, and here am I.

Seb. Hold on, sweet Moll!

Mary. I’ve heard her much commended, sir, for one

That was ne’er taught.

Moll. I’m much beholding to ’em.

Well, since you’ll needs put us together, sir,

I’ll play my part as well as I can: it shall ne’er

Be said I came into a gentleman’s chamber,

And let his instrument hang by the walls.

Seb. Why, well said, Moll, i’faith; it had been a shame for that gentleman then that would have let it hung still, and ne’er offered thee it.

Moll. There it should have been still then for Moll;

For though the world judge impudently of me,

I never came into that chamber yet

Where I took down the instrument myself.

Seb. Pish, let ’em prate abroad; thou’rt here where thou art known and loved; there be a thousand close dames that will call the viol^[1080] an unmannerly instrument for a woman, and therefore talk broadly of thee, when you shall have them sit wider to a worse quality.

Moll. Push,^[1081]

I ever fall asleep and think not of ’em, sir;

And thus I dream.

Seb. Prithee, let’s hear thy dream, Moll.

Moll [sings].

I dream there is a mistress,

And she lays out the money;

510She goes unto her sisters,

She never comes at any.

Re-enter Sir Alexander behind.

She says she went to th’ Burse^[1082] for patterns;

You shall find her at Saint Kathern’s,

And comes home with never a penny.

Seb. That’s a free mistress, faith!

S. Alex. Ay, ay, ay,

Like her that sings it; one of thine own choosing.

[Aside.

Moll. But shall I dream again?

[Sings.] Here comes a wench will brave ye;

Her courage was so great,

She lay with one o’ the navy,

Her husband lying i’ the Fleet.

Yet oft with him she cavell’d;^[1083]

I wonder what she ails:

Her husband’s ship lay gravell’d,

When her’s could hoise up sails:

Yet she began, like all my foes,

To call whore first; for so do those—

A pox of all false tails!

Seb. Marry, amen, say I!

S. Alex. So say I too. [Aside.

Moll. Hang up the viol now, sir: all this while

I was in a dream; one shall lie rudely then;

But being awake, I keep my legs together.

A watch? what’s a’ clock here?

S. Alex. Now, now she’s trapt! [Aside.

Moll. Between^[1084] one and two; nay, then I care 511not. A watch and a musician are cousin-germans in one thing, they must both keep time well, or there’s no goodness in ’em; the one else deserves to be dashed against a wall, and t’other to have his brains knocked out with a fiddle-case.

What! a loose chain and a dangling diamond?

Here were a brave booty for an evening thief now:

There’s many a younger brother would be glad

To look twice in at a window for’t,

And wriggle in and out, like an eel in a sand-bag.

O, if men’s secret youthful faults should judge ’em,

’Twould be the general’st execution

That e’er was seen in England!

There would be but few left to sing the ballads,

There would be so much work: most of our brokers

Would be chosen for hangmen; a good day for them;

They might renew their wardrobes of free cost then.

Seb. This is the roaring wench must do us good.

Mary. No poison, sir, but serves us for some use;

Which is confirm’d in her.

Seb. Peace, peace—

’Foot, I did hear him sure, where’er he be.

Moll. Who did you hear?

Seb. My father;

’Twas like a sigh^[1085] of his: I must be wary.

S. Alex. No? wilt not be? am I alone so wretched

That nothing takes? I’ll put him to his plunge^[1086] for’t.

[Aside.

Seb. Life! here he comes.—Sir, I beseech you take it;

512Your way of teaching does so much content me,

I’ll make it four pound; here’s forty shillings, sir—

I think I name it right—help me, good Moll—

Forty in hand. [Offering money.

Moll. Sir, you shall pardon me:

I’ve more of the meanest scholar I can teach;

This pays me more than you have offer’d yet.

Seb. At the next quarter,

When I receive the means my father ’lows me,

You shall have t’other forty.

S. Alex. This were well now,

Were’t to a man whose sorrows had blind eyes;

But mine behold his follies and untruths

With two clear glasses. [Aside—then coming forward.]

How now?

Seb. Sir?

S. Alex. What’s he there?

Seb. You’re come in good time, sir; I’ve a suit to you;

I’d crave your present kindness.

S. Alex. What’s he there?

Seb. A gentleman, a musician, sir; one of excellent fingering.

S. Alex. Ay, I think so;—I wonder how they ’scap’d her. [Aside.

Seb. Has the most delicate stroke, sir.

S. Alex. A stroke indeed!—I feel it at my heart.

[Aside.

Seb. Puts down all your famous musicians.

S. Alex. Ay,—a whore may put down a hundred of ’em.

[Aside.

Seb. Forty shillings is the agreement, sir, between us:

513Now, sir, my present means mounts but to half on’t.

S. Alex. And he stands upon the whole?

Seb. Ay, indeed does he, sir.

S. Alex. And will do still; he’ll ne’er be in other tale.

Seb. Therefore I’d stop his mouth, sir, and^[1087] I could.

S. Alex. Hum, true; there is no other way indeed;—

His folly hardens, shame must needs succeed.—

[Aside.

Now, sir, I understand you profess music.

Moll. I’m a poor servant to that liberal science, sir.

S. Alex. Where is’t you teach?

Moll. Right against Clifford’s Inn.

S. Alex. Hum, that’s a fit place for’t: you’ve many scholars?

Moll. And some of worth, whom I may call my masters.

S. Alex. Ay, true, a company of whoremasters.

[Aside.

You teach to sing too?

Moll. Marry, do I, sir.

S. Alex. I think you’ll find an apt scholar of my son,

Especially for prick-song.

Moll. I’ve much hope of him.

S. Alex. I’m sorry for’t, I have the less for that.

[Aside.

You can play any lesson?

Moll. At first sight, sir.

S. Alex. There’s a thing call’d the Witch; can you play that?

514Moll. I would be sorry any one should mend me in’t.

S. Alex. Ay, I believe thee; thou’st so bewitch’d my son,

No care will mend the work that thou hast done.

I have bethought myself, since my art fails,

I’ll make her policy the art to trap her.

Here are four angels^[1088] mark’d with holes in them

Fit for his crack’d companions: gold he’ll give her;

These will I make induction to her ruin,

And rid shame from my house, grief from my heart.

[Aside.

Here, son, in what you take content and pleasure,

Want shall not curb you; pay the gentleman

His latter half in gold. [Gives money.

Seb. I thank you, sir.

S. Alex. O may the operation on’t end three;

In her, life, shame in him, and grief in me!

[Aside, and exit.

Seb. Faith, thou shalt have ’em; ’tis my father’s gift:

Never was man beguil’d with better shift.

Moll. He that can take me for a male musician,

I can’t choose but make him my instrument,

And play upon him. [Exeunt.