Act 4 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
Before Gallipot’s Shop.
Enter Mistress Gallipot and Mistress Openwork.
Mis. G. Is, then, that bird of yours, master Goshawk, so wild?
515Mis. O. A Goshawk? a puttock;[1089] all for prey: he angles for fish, but he loves flesh better.
Mis. G. Is’t possible his smooth face should have wrinkles in’t, and we not see them?
Mis. O. Possible? why, have not many handsome legs in silk stockings villanous splay feet, for all their great roses?[1090]
Mis. G. Troth, sirrah,[1091] thou sayst true.
Mis. O. Didst never see an archer, as thou’st walked by Bunhill, look a-squint when he drew his bow?
Mis. G. Yes, when his arrows have fline[1092] toward Islington, his eyes have shot clean contrary towards Pimlico.
Mis. O. For all the world so does master Goshawk double with me.
Mis. G. O, fie upon him! if he double once, he’s not for me.
Mis. O. Because Goshawk goes in a shag-ruff band, with a face sticking up in’t which shews like an agate set in a cramp ring,[1093] he thinks I’m in love with him.
Mis. G. ’Las, I think he takes his mark amiss in thee!
Mis. O. He has, by often beating into me, made me believe that my husband kept a whore.
516Mis. G. Very good.
Mis. O. Swore to me that my husband this very morning went in a boat, with a tilt over it, to the Three Pigeons[1094] at Brainford, and his punk with him under his tilt.
Mis. G. That were wholesome.
Mis. O. I believed it; fell a-swearing at him, cursing of harlots; made me ready to hoise up sail and be there as soon as he.
Mis. G. So, so.
Mis. O. And for that voyage Goshawk comes hither incontinently:[1095] but, sirrah, this water-spaniel dives after no duck but me; his hope is having me at Brainford, to make me cry quack.
Mis. G. Art sure of it?
Mis. O. Sure of it? my poor innocent Openwork came in as I was poking my ruff:[1096] presently hit I him i’ the teeth with the Three Pigeons; he forswore all, I up and opened all; and now stands he in a shop hard by, like a musket on a rest,[1097] to hit Goshawk i’ the eye, when he comes to fetch me to the boat.
Mis. G. Such another lame gelding offered to carry me through thick and thin,—Laxton, sirrah,—but I am rid of him now.
Mis. O. Happy is the woman can be rid of ’em all! ’las, what are your whisking gallants to our husbands, weigh ’em rightly, man for man?
Mis. G. Troth, mere shallow things.
Mis. O. Idle, simple things, running heads; and 517yet let ’em run over us never so fast, we shopkeepers, when all’s done, are sure to have ’em in our pursenets[1098] at length; and when they are in, lord, what simple animals they are! then they hang the head——
Mis. G. Then they droop——
Mis. O. Then they write letters——
Mis. G. Then they cog[1099]——
Mis. O. Then deal they underhand with us, and we must ingle[1100] with our husbands a-bed; and we must swear they are our cousins, and able to do us a pleasure at court.
Mis. G. And yet, when we have done our best, all’s but put into a riven dish;[1101] we are but frumped[1102] at and libelled upon.
Mis. O. O, if it were the good Lord’s will there were a law made, no citizen should trust any of ’em all!
Enter Goshawk.
Mis. G. Hush, sirrah! Goshawk flutters.
Gos. How now? are you ready?
Mis. O. Nay, are you ready? a little thing, you see, makes us ready.
Gos. Us? why, must she make one i’ the voyage?
Mis. O. O, by any means! do I know how my husband will handle me?
Gos. ’Foot, how shall I find water to keep these two mills going? [Aside.]—Well, since you’ll needs be clapped under hatches, if I sail not with you both 518till all split,[1103] hang me up at the mainyard and duck me.—It’s but liquoring them both soundly, and then you shall see their cork-heels fly up high, like two swans when their tails are above water, and their long necks under water diving to catch gudgeons. [Aside.]—Come, come, oars stand ready; the tide’s with us; on with those false faces; blow winds, and thou shalt take thy husband casting out his net to catch fresh salmon at Brainford.[1104]
Mis. G. I believe you’ll eat of a cod’s head of your own dressing before you reach half way thither.
[Aside—She and Mistress O. mask themselves.
Gos. So, so, follow close; pin as you go.
Enter Laxton muffled.
Lax. Do you hear?
Mis. G. Yes, I thank my ears.
Lax. I must have a bout with your ’pothecaryship.
Mis. G. At what weapon?
Lax. I must speak with you.
Mis. G. No.
Lax. No? you shall.
Mis. G. Shall? away, souced sturgeon! half fish, half flesh.
Lax. Faith, gib,[1105] are you spitting? I’ll cut your tail, puss-cat, for this.
519Mis. G. ’Las, poor Laxton, I think thy tail’s cut already! your worst.
Lax. If I do not—— [Exit.
Gos. Come, ha’ you done?
Enter Openwork.
’S foot, Rosamond, your husband!
Open. How now? sweet master Goshawk! none more welcome;
I’ve wanted your embracements: when friends meet,
The music of the spheres sounds not more sweet
Than does their conference. Who’s this? Rosamond?
Wife? how now, sister?
Gos. Silence, if you love me!
Open. Why mask’d?
Mis. O. Does a mask grieve you, sir?
Open. It does.
Mis. O. Then you’re best get you a mumming.[1106]
Gos. ’Sfoot, you’ll spoil all!
Mis. G. May not we cover our bare faces with masks,
As well as you cover your bald heads with hats?
Open. No masks; why they’re thieves to beauty, that rob eyes
Of admiration in which true love lies.
Why are masks worn? why good? or why desir’d?
Unless by their gay covers wits are fir’d
To read the vildest[1107] looks: many bad faces,
Because rich gems are treasur’d up in cases,
Pass by their privilege current; but as caves
Damn misers’ gold, so masks are beauties’ graves.
520Men ne’er meet women with such muffled eyes,
But they curse her that first did masks devise,
And swear it was some beldam. Come, off with’t.
Mis. O. I will not.
Open. Good faces mask’d are jewels kept by sprites;[1108]
Hide none but bad ones, for they poison men’s sights;
Shew, then, as shopkeepers do their broider’d stuff,
By owl-light; fine wares can’t be open enough.
Prithee, sweet Rose, come, strike this sail.
Mis. O. Sail?
Open. Ha!
Yes, wife, strike sail, for storms are in thine eyes.
Mis. O. They’re here, sir, in my brows, if any rise.
Open. Ha, brows?—What says she, friend? pray, tell me why
Your two flags[1109] were advanc’d; the comedy,
Come, what’s the comedy?
Open. How?
Mis. O. ’Tis Westward ho, she says.
Gos. Are you both mad?
Mis. O. Is’t market-day at Brainford, and your ware
Not sent up yet?
521Open. What market-day? what ware?
Mis. O. A pie with three pigeons in’t: ’tis drawn,
And stays your cutting up.
Gos. As you regard my credit——
Open. Art mad?
Mis. O. Yes, lecherous goat, baboon!
Open. Baboon? then toss me in a blanket.
Mis. O. Do I it well?
Mis. G. Rarely.
Gos. Belike, sir, she’s not well; best leave her.
Open. No;
I’ll stand the storm now, how fierce soe’er it blow.
Mis. O. Did I for this lose all my friends, refuse
Rich hopes and golden fortunes, to be made
A stale[1112] to a common whore?
Open. This does amaze me.
Mis. O. O God, O God! feed at reversion now?
A strumpet’s leaving?
Open. Rosamond!
Gos. I sweat; would I lay in Cold Harbour![1113]
[Aside.
Mis. O. Thou’st struck ten thousand daggers through my heart!
Open. Not I, by heaven, sweet wife!
Mis. O. Go, devil, go; that which thou swear’st by damns thee!
Gos. ’S heart, will you undo me?
Mis. O. Why stay you here? the star by which you sail
522Shines yonder above Chelsea; you lose your shore;
If this moon light you, seek out your light whore.
Open. Ha!
Gos. Zounds, now hell roars!
Mis. O. With whom you tilted in a pair of oars
This very morning.
Open. Oars?
Mis. O. At Brainford, sir.
Open. Rack not my patience.—Master Goshawk,
Some slave has buzz’d this into her, has he not?
I run a tilt in Brainford with a woman?
’Tis a lie!
What old bawd tells thee this? ’s death, ’tis a lie!
Mis. O. ’Tis one [who] to thy face shall justify
All that I speak.
Open. Ud’soul, do but name that rascal!
Mis. O. No, sir, I will not.
Gos. Keep thee there, girl, then! [Aside.
Open.[1116] Sister, know you this varlet?
Mis. G. Yes.
Open. Swear true;
Is there a rogue so low damn’d? a second Judas?—
A common hangman, cutting a man’s throat,
Does it to his face,—bite me behind my back?
A cur dog? swear if you know this hell-hound.
Mis. G. In truth, I do.
Open. His name?
523Mis. G. Not for the world;
To have you to stab him.
Gos. O brave girls, worth gold![1117] [Aside.
Open. A word, honest master Goshawk.
[Drawing his sword.
Gos. What do you mean, sir?
Open. Keep off, and if the devil can give a name
To this new fury, holla it through my ear,
Or wrap it up in some hid character.
I’ll ride to Oxford, and watch out mine eyes,
But I will hear the Brazen Head[1118] speak, or else
Shew me but one hair of his head or beard,
That I may sample it. If the fiend I meet
In mine own house, I’ll kill him; [in] the street,
Or at the church-door,—there, ’cause he seeks t’ untie
The knot God fastens, he deserves most to die.
Mis. O. My husband titles him!
Open. Master Goshawk, pray, sir,
Swear to me that you know him, or know him not,
Who makes me at Brainford to take up a petticoat
Besides my wife’s.
Gos. By heaven, that man I know not!
Mis. O. Come, come, you lie!
Gos. Will you not have all out?
By heaven, I know no man beneath the moon
524Should do you wrong, but if I had his name,
I’d print it in text letters.
Mis. O. Print thine own then:
Did’st not thou swear to me he kept his whore?
Mis. G. And that in sinful Brainford they’d commit
That which our lips did water at, sir,—ha?
Mis. O. Thou spider that hast woven thy cunning web
In mine own house t’ ensnare me! hast not thou
Suck’d nourishment even underneath this roof,
And turn’d it all to poison, spitting it
On thy friend’s face, my husband, (he as ’twere sleeping,)
Only to leave him ugly to mine eyes,
That they might glance on thee?
Mis. G. Speak, are these lies?
Gos. Mine own shame me confounds!
Open.[1119] No more; he’s stung.
Who’d think that in one body there could dwell
Deformity and beauty, heaven and hell?
Goodness I see is but outside; we all set
In rings of gold stones that be counterfeit:
I thought you none.
Gos. Pardon me!
Open. Truth I do:
This blemish grows in nature, not in you;
For man’s creation stick[s] even moles in scorn
On fairest cheeks.—Wife, nothing’s perfect born.
Mis. O. I thought you had been born perfect.
Open. What’s this whole world but a gilt rotten pill?
For at the heart lies the old core still.
I’ll tell you, master Goshawk, ay, in your eye
I have seen wanton fire; and then, to try
525The soundness of my judgment, I told you
I kept a whore, made you believe ’twas true,
Only to feel how your pulse beat; but find
The world can hardly yield a perfect friend.
Come, come, a trick of youth, and ’tis forgiven;
This rub put by, our love shall run more even.
Mis. O. You’ll deal upon men’s wives no more?
Gos. No; you teach me
A trick for that.
Mis. O. Troth, do not; they’ll o’erreach thee.
Open. Make my house yours, sir, still.
Gos. No.
Open. I say you shall:
Seeing thus besieg’d it holds out, ’twill never fall.
Enter Gallipot, followed by Greenwit disguised as a sumner;[1120] and Laxton muffled aloof off.[1121]
Open. Gos., &c.[1122] } How now?
Gal. With me, sir?
Green. You, sir. I have gone snuffling[1123] up and down by your door this hour, to watch for you.
Mis. G. What’s the matter, husband?
Green. I have caught a cold in my head, sir, by sitting up late in the Rose tavern; but I hope you understand my speech.
Gal. So, sir.
Green. I cite you by the name of Hippocrates Gallipot, and you by the name of Prudence Gallipot, to appear upon Crastino,—do you see?—Crastino sancti Dunstani, this Easter term, in Bow Church.
526Gal. Where, sir? what says he?
Green. Bow, Bow Church, to answer to a libel of precontract on the part and behalf of the said Prudence and another: you’re best, sir, take a copy of the citation, ’tis but twelvepence.
Open. Gos., &c. } A citation!
Gal. You pocky-nosed rascal, what slave fees you to this?
Lax. [coming forward] Slave? I ha’ nothing to do with you; do you hear, sir?
Gos. Laxton, is’t not? What fagary[1124] is this?
Gal. Trust me, I thought, sir, this storm long ago
Had been full laid, when, if you be remember’d,[1125]
I paid you the last fifteen pound, besides
The thirty you had first; for then you swore——
Lax. Tush, tush, sir, oaths,—
Truth, yet I’m loath to vex you—tell you what,
Make up the money I had an hundred pound,
And take your bellyful of her.
Gal. An hundred pound?
Mis. G. What, a hundred pound? he gets none: what, a hundred pound?
Gal. Sweet Pru, be calm; the gentleman offers thus:
If I will make the moneys that are past
A hundred pound, he will discharge all courts,
And give his bond never to vex us more.
Mis. G. A hundred pound? ’Las, take, sir, but threescore!
Do you seek my undoing?
Lax. I’ll not ’bate one sixpence.—
I’ll maul you, puss, for spitting.
527Mis. G. Do thy worst.—
Will fourscore stop thy mouth?
Lax. No.
Mis. G. You’re a slave;
Thou cheat, I’ll now tear money from thy throat.—
Husband, lay hold on yonder tawny-coat.[1126]
Green. Nay, gentlemen, seeing your women are so hot, I must lose my hair[1127] in their company, I see.
[Takes off his false hair.
Mis. O. His hair sheds off, and yet he speaks not so much in the nose as he did before.
Gos. He has had the better chirurgeon.—Master Greenwit, is your wit so raw as to play no better a part than a sumner’s?
Gal. I pray, who plays A knack to know an honest man,[1128] in this company?
Mis. G. Dear husband, pardon me, I did dissemble,
Told thee I was his precontracted wife,
When letters came from him for thirty pound:
I had no shift but that.
Gal. A very clean shift,
But able to make me lousy: on.
Mis. G. Husband, I pluck’d,
When he had tempted me to think well of him,
Gelt feathers[1129] from thy wings, to make him fly
More lofty.
528Gal. A’ the top of you, wife: on.
Mis. G. He having wasted them, comes now for more,
Using me as a ruffian doth his whore,
Whose sin keeps him in breath. By heaven, I vow,
Thy bed he ne’er wrong’d more than he does now!
Gal. My bed? ha, ha! like enough; a shop-board will serve
To have a cuckold’s coat cut out upon:
Of that we’ll talk hereafter.—You’re a villain.
Lax. Hear me but speak, sir, you shall find me none.
Open. Gos., &c. } Pray, sir, be patient, and hear him.
Gal. I’m muzzl’d for biting, sir; use me how you will.
Lax. The first hour that your wife was in my eye,
Myself with other gentlemen sitting by
In your shop tasting smoke, and speech being us’d,
That men who’ve fairest wives are most abus’d,
And hardly scape[1130] the horn, your wife maintain’d
That only such spots in city dames were stain’d
Justly but by men’s slanders: for her own part,
She vow’d that you had so much of her heart,
No man, by all his wit, by any wile
Never so fine-spun, should yourself beguile
Of what in her was yours.
Gal. Yet, Pru, ’tis well.—
Play out your game at Irish,[1131] sir: who wins?
529Mis. O. The trial is when she comes to bearing.[1132]
Lax. I scorn’d one woman thus should brave all men,
And, which more vex’d me, a she-citizen;
Therefore I laid siege to her: out she held,
Gave many a brave repulse, and me compell’d
With shame to sound retreat to my hot lust:
Then, seeing all base desires rak’d up in dust,
And that[1133] to tempt her modest ears, I swore
Ne’er to presume again: she said, her eye
Would ever give me welcome honestly;
And, since I was a gentleman, if’t run low,
She would my state relieve, not to o’erthrow
Your own and hers: did so; then seeing I wrought
Upon her meekness, me she set at nought;
And yet to try if I could turn that tide,
You see what stream I strove with; but, sir, I swear
By heaven, and by those hopes men lay up there,
I neither have nor had a base intent
To wrong your bed! what’s done, is merriment:
Your gold I pay back with this interest,
When I’d most power to do’t, I wrong’d you least.
Gal. If this no gullery be, sir——
Open. Gos., &c. } No, no, on my life!
Gal. Then, sir, I am beholden—not to you, wife,—
But, master Laxton, to your want of doing
Ill, which it seems you have not.—Gentlemen,
Tarry and dine here all.
Open. Brother, we’ve a jest,
As good as yours, to furnish out a feast.
530Gal. We’ll crown our table with’t.—Wife, brag no more
Of holding out: who most brags is most whore.
[Exeunt.