Part 2 / Act 2 — ACT II. SCENE I.

A Hall in Antonio’s House.

Enter Antonio and Gasparo.

Gas. Good sir, whence springs this sadness? trust me, sir,

You look not like a man was married yesterday:

There could come no ill tidings since last night

To cause that discontent. I was wont to know all,

Before you had a wife, sir: you ne’er found me

Without those parts of manhood, trust and secrecy.

Ant. I will not tell thee this.

Gas. Not your true servant, sir?

Ant. True? you’ll all flout according to your talent,

The best a man can keep of you; and a hell ’tis

For masters to pay wages to be laugh’d at.

Give order that two cocks be boil’d to jelly.

Gas. How? two cocks boil’d to jelly?

Ant. Fetch half an ounce of pearl. [Exit.

Gas. This is a cullis^[515]

For a consumption; and I hope one night

Has not brought you to need the cook already,

And some part of the goldsmith: what, two trades

In four-and-twenty hours, and less time?

Pray heaven, the surgeon and the pothecary

Keep out! and then ’tis well. You’d better fortune,

As far as I see, with your strumpet sojourner,

Your little four nobles^[516] a-week: I ne’er knew you

Eat one panado^[517] all the time you’ve kept her;

272And is’t in one night now come up to two cockbroth[s]?

I wonder at the alteration strangely.

Enter Francisca.

Fran. Good morrow, Gaspar.

Gas. Your hearty wishes, mistress,

And your sweet dreams come upon you!

Fran. What’s that, sir?

Gas. In a good husband; that’s my real meaning.

Fran. Saw you my brother lately?

Gas. Yes.

Fran. I met him now,

As sad, methought, as grief could make a man:

Know you the cause?

Gas. Not I: I know nothing,

But half an ounce of pearl, and kitchen business,

Which I will see perform’d with all fidelity:

I’ll break my trust in nothing, not in porridge, I.

[Exit.

Fran. I have the hardest fortune, I think, of a hundred gentlewomen:

Some^[518] can make merry with a friend seven year,

And nothing seen; as perfect a maid still,

To the world’s knowledge, as she came from rocking.

But ’twas my luck, at the first hour, forsooth,

To prove too fruitful: sure I’m near my time;

I’m yet but a young scholar, I may fail

In my account; but certainly I do not.

These bastards come upon poor venturing gentlewomen ten to one faster than your legitimate 273children: if I had been married, I’ll be hanged if I had been with child so soon now. When they are our husbands, they’ll be whipt ere they take such pains as a friend will do; to come by water to the back-door at midnight, there stay perhaps an hour in all weathers, with a pair of reeking watermen laden with bottles of wine, chewets,^[519] and currant-custards. I may curse those egg-pies, they are meat that help forward too fast.

This hath been usual with me night by night,

Honesty forgive me! when my brother has been

Dreaming of no such juncket; yet he hath far’d

The better for my sake, though he little think

For what, nor must he ever. My friend promis’d me

To provide safely for me, and devise

A means to save my credit here i’ th’ house.

My brother sure would kill me if he knew’t,

And powder up my friend, and all his kindred,

For an East Indian voyage.

Enter Isabella.

Isa. Alone, sister?

Fran. No, there’s another with me, though you see’t not.—

[Aside.

Morrow, sweet sister: how have you slept to-night?

Isa. More than I thought I should; I’ve had good rest.

Fran. I am glad to hear’t.

Isa. Sister, methinks you are too long alone,

And lose much good time, sociable and honest:

I’m for the married life; I must praise that now.

Fran. I cannot blame you, sister, to commend it;

You’ve happen’d well, no doubt, on a kind husband,

274And that’s not every woman’s fortune, sister:

You know if he were any but my brother,

My praises should not leave him yet so soon.

Isa. I must acknowledge, sister, that my life

Is happily blest with him: he is no gamester,^[520]

That ever I could find or hear of yet,

Nor midnight surfeiter; he does intend

To leave tobacco too.

Fran. Why, here’s a husband!

Isa. He saw it did offend me, and swore freely

He’d ne’er take pleasure in a toy^[521] again

That should displease me: some knights’ wives in town

Will have great hope, upon his reformation,

To bring their husbands’ breaths into th’ old fashion,

And make 'em kiss like Christians, not like Pagans.

Fran. I promise you, sister, 'twill be a worthy work

To put down all these pipers; ’tis great pity

There should not be a statute against them,

As against fiddlers.

Isa. These good offices,

If you had a husband, you might exercise,

To th’ good o’ th’ commonwealth, and do much profit:

Beside, it is a comfort to a woman

T’ have children, sister; a great blessing certainly.

Fran. They will come fast enough.

Isa. Not so fast neither

As they’re still welcome to an honest woman.

Fran. How near she comes to me! I protest she grates

My very skin. [Aside.

275Isa. Were I conceiv’d with child,

Beshrew my heart, I should be so proud on’t!

Fran. That’s natural; pride is a kind of swelling:—

But yet I’ve small cause to be proud of mine. [Aside.

Isa. You are no good companion for a wife:

Get you a husband; prithee, sister, do,

That I may ask your counsel now and then:

'Twill mend your discourse much; you maids know nothing.

Fran. No, we are fools; but commonly we prove

Quicker mothers than you that have husbands:—

I’m sure I shall else: I may speak for one. [Aside.

Re-enter Antonio.

Ant. I will not look upon her; I’ll pass by,

And make as though I see her not. [Aside.

Isa. Why, sir,—

Pray, your opinion, by the way, with leave, sir:

I’m counselling your sister here to marry.

Ant. To marry? soft; the priest is not at leisure yet;

Some five year hence.—Would you fain marry, sister?

Fra. I’ve no such hunger to’t, sir,—for I think

I’ve a good bit that well may stay my stomach,

As well as any that broke fast, a sinner. [Aside.

Ant. Though she seem tall of growth, she’s short in years

Of some that seem much lower.—How old, sister?

Not seventeen, for a yard of lawn!

Fran. Not yet, sir.

Ant. I told you so.

276Fran. I would he’d laid a wager of old shirts rather;

I shall have more need of them shortly; and yet,

A yard of lawn will serve for a christening-cloth;

I’ve use for every thing, as my case stands. [Aside.

Isa. I care not if I try my voice this morning;

But I have got a cold, sir, by your means.

Ant. I’ll strive to mend that fault.

Isa. I thank you, sir. [Sings.

In a maiden-time profest,

Then we say that life is best;

Tasting once the married life,

Then we only praise the wife:

There’s but one state more to try,

Which makes women laugh or cry—

Widow, widow: of these three

The middle’s best, and that give me.

Ant. There’s thy reward. [Kisses her.

Isa. I will not grumble, sir,

Like some musician; if more come, ’tis welcome.

Fran. Such tricks have^[522] made me do all that I have done:

Your kissing married folks spoil^[523] all the maids

That ever live i’ th’ house with 'em. O, here

He comes with his bags and bottles; he was born

To lead poor watermen^[524] and I. [Aside.

Enter Aberzanes, and Servants carrying baked meats and bottles.

Aber. Go, fellows, into th’ larder; let the bake-meats

Be sorted by themselves.

Ant. Why, sir—

277Aber. Look the canary-bottles be well stopt;

The three of claret shall be drunk at dinner.

[Exeunt Servants.

Ant. My good sir, you’re too plenteous of these courtesies,

Indeed you are; forbear 'em, I beseech ye:

I know no merit in me, but poor love

And a true friend’s well-wishing, that can cause

This kindness in excess.—I’ th’ state that I am,

I shall go near to kick this fellow shortly,

And send him down stairs with his bag and baggage:

Why comes he now I’m married? there’s the point.

[Aside.

I pray, forbear these things.

Aber. Alas, you know, sir,

These idle toys,^[525] which you call courtesies,

They cost me nothing but my servants’ travail!

One office must be kind, sir, to another:

You know the fashion. What! the gentlewoman

Your sister’s sad, methinks.

Ant. I know no cause she has.

Fran. Nor shall you, by my good will. [Aside.]

—What do you mean, sir?

Shall I stay here, to shame myself and you?

The time may be to-night, for aught you know.

Aber. Peace; there’s means wrought, I tell thee.

Enter Sebastian and Gentleman.

Fran. Ay, sir, when?

Ant. How now? what’s he?

Isa. O, this is the man, sir,

I entertain’d this morning for my service;

Please you to give your liking.

278Ant. Yes, he’s welcome;

I like him not amiss.—Thou wouldst speak business,

Wouldest thou not?

Seb. Yes; may it please you, sir,

There is a gentleman from the northern parts

Hath brought a letter, as it seems in haste.

Ant. From whom?

Gent. Your bonny lady mother, sir.

[Giving letter to Antonio.

Ant. You are kindly welcome, sir: how doth she?

Gent. I left her heal^[526] varray well, sir.

Ant. [reads] I pray send your sister down with all speed to me: I hope it will prove much for her good in the way of her preferment. Fail me not, I desire you, son, nor let any excuse of hers withhold her: I have sent, ready furnished, horse and man for her.

Aber. Now, have I thought upon you?

Fran. Peace, good sir;

You’re worthy of a kindness another time.

Ant. Her will shall be obey’d.—Sister, prepare yourself;

You must down with all speed.

Fran. I know, down I must;

And good speed send me! [Aside.

Ant. ’Tis our mother’s pleasure.

Fran. Good sir, write back again, and certify her

I’m at my heart’s wish here; I’m with my friends,

And can be but well, say.

Ant. You shall pardon me, sister;

I hold it no wise part to contradict her,

Nor would I counsel you to’t.

279Fran. ’Tis so uncouth

Living i’ th’ country, now I’m us’d to th’ city,

That I shall ne’er endure’t.

Aber. Perhaps, forsooth,

’Tis not her meaning you shall live there long:

I do not think but after a month or so,

You’ll be sent up again; that’s my conceit.

However, let her have her will.

Ant. Ay, good sir,

Great reason ’tis she should.

Isa. I’m sorry, sister,

’Tis our hard fortune thus to part so soon.

Fran. The sorrow will be mine.

Ant. Please you walk in, sir;

We’ll have one health unto those northern parts,

Though I be sick at heart.

[Exeunt Antonio, Isabella, and Gentleman.

Aber. Ay, sir, a deep one—

Which you shall pledge too.

Fran. You shall pardon me;

I have pledg’d one too deep already, sir.

Aber. Peace; all’s provided for: thy wine’s laid in,

Sugar and spice; the place not ten mile hence.

What cause have maids now to complain of men,

When a farm-house can make all whole agen?^[527]

[Exeunt Aberzanes and Francisca.

Seb. It takes; has no content: how well she bears it yet!

Hardly myself can find so much from her

That am acquainted with the cold disease:

O honesty’s a rare wealth in a woman!

It knows no want, at least will express none,

Not in a look. Yet I’m not throughly happy:

280His ill does me no good; well may it keep me

From open rage and madness for a time,

But I feel heart’s grief in the same place still.

What makes the greatest torment 'mongst lost souls?

’Tis not so much the horror of their pains,

Though they be infinite, as the loss of joys;

It is that deprivation is the mother

Of all the groans in hell, and here on earth

Of all the red sighs in the hearts of lovers.

Still she’s not mine, that can be no man’s else

Till I be nothing, if religion

Have the same strength for me as 't has for others:

Holy vows, witness that our souls were married!

Re-enter Gasparo, ushering in Lord Governor attended by Gentlemen.

Gas. Where are you, sir? come, pray, give your attendance;

Here’s my lord governor come.

Gov. Where’s our new kindred?

Not stirring yet, I think.

Gas. Yes, my good lord:

Please you, walk near.

Gov. Come, gentlemen, we’ll enter.

Seb. I ha’ done’t upon a breach; this a less venture.

[Exeunt.