Part 2 / Act 3 — SCENE II.

A Room in Matheo’s House.

Enter Bellafront, and Orlando disguised as a Serving-man.

Bel. How now, what ails your master?

Or. Has taken a younger brother’s purge, forsooth, and that works with him.

Bel. Where is his cloak and rapier?

Or. He has given up his cloak, and his rapier is bound to the peace: if you look a little higher, you may see that another hath entered into hatband for him too. Six and four have put him into this sweat.

Bel. Where’s all his money?

Or. ’Tis put over by exchange: his doublet was going to be translated, but for me: if any man would ha’ lent but half a ducat on his beard, the 179hair of it had stuft a pair of breeches^[344] by this time; I had but one poor penny, and that I was glad to niggle out and buy a holly-wand to grace him thorough the street; as hap was, his boots were on, and then^[345] I dusted, to make people think he had been riding, and I had run by him.

Bel. O me!

Enter Matheo.

How does my sweet Matheo?

Mat. O rogue, of what devilish stuff are these dice made of? of the parings of the devil’s corns of his toes, that they run thus damnably?

Bel. I prithee, vex not.

Mat. If any handicraft’s-man was ever suffered to keep shop in hell, it will be a dice-maker; he’s able to undo more souls than the devil: I played with mine own dice, yet lost. Ha’ you any money?

Bel. 'Las, I ha’ none!

Mat. Must have money, must have some; must have a cloak, and rapier, and things: will you go set your lime-twigs, and get me some birds, some money?

Bel. What lime-twigs should I set?

Mat. You will not, then? must have cash and pictures: do ye hear, frailty, shall I walk in a Plymouth cloak,^[346] that’s to say, like a rogue, in my 180hose^[347] and doublet, and a crab-tree cudgel in my hand, and you swim in your satins? must have money; come.

[Taking off her gown.

Or. Is’t bed-time, master, that you undo my mistress?

Bel. Undo me? yes, yes, at these riflings I

Have been too often.

Mat. Help to flay, Pacheco.

Or. Flaying call you it?

Mat. I’ll pawn you, by th’ Lord, to your very eyebrows!

Bel. With all my heart; since heaven will have me poor,

As good be drown’d at sea as drown’d at shore.

Or. Why, hear you, sir? i’faith, do not make away her gown.

Mat. O, it’s summer, it’s summer; your only fashion for a woman now is to be light, to be light.

Or. Why, pray, sir, employ some of that money you have of mine.

Mat. Thine? I’ll starve first, I’ll beg first; when I touch a penny of that, let these fingers’ ends rot.

Or. So they may, for that’s past touching. I saw my twenty pounds fly high. [Aside.

Mat. Knowest thou never a damned broker about the city?

Or. Damned broker? yes, five hundred.

Mat. The gown stood me in above twenty ducats; borrow ten of it: cannot live without silver.

Or. I’ll make what I can of’t, sir, I’ll be your broker,—

But not your damn’d broker: O thou scurvy knave!

What makes a wife turn whore but such a slave?

[Aside, and exit with Bellafront’s gown.

181Mat. How now, little chick, what ailest? weeping for a handful of tailor’s shreds? pox on them! are there not silks enow at mercer’s?

Bel. I care not for gay feathers, I.

Mat. What dost care for, then? why dost grieve?

Bel. Why do I grieve? a thousand sorrow’s strike

At one poor heart, and yet it lives. Matheo,

Thou art a gamester; prithee, throw at all,

Set all upon one cast. We kneel and pray,

And struggle for life, yet must be cast away:

Meet misery quickly then, split all,^[348] sell all;

And when thou’st sold all, spend it; but, I beseech thee,

Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more:

To get it, wouldst thou have me play the whore?

Mat. 'Twas your profession before I married you.

Bel. Umh? ’twas indeed: if all men should be branded

For sins long since laid up, who could be sav’d?

The quarter-day’s at hand; how will you do

To pay the rent, Matheo?

Mat. Why, do as all of our occupation do against quarter-days; break up house, remove, shift your lodgings: pox a’ your quarters!

Enter Lodovico.

Lod. Where’s this gallant?

Mat. Signor Lodovico? how does my little Mirror of Knighthood?^[349] this is kindly done, i’faith; welcome, by my troth.

Lod. And how dost, frolic?—Save you, fair lady.—

Thou lookest smug and bravely, noble Mat.

182Mat. Drink and feed, laugh and lie warm.

Lod. Is this thy wife?

Mat. A poor gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a’ nights.

Lod. Pay custom to your lips, sweet lady.

[Kisses her.

Mat. Borrow some shells^[350] of him—some wine, sweetheart.

Lod. I’ll send for’t then, i’faith.

Mat. You send for’t?—Some wine, I prithee.

Bel. I ha’ no money.

Mat. ’Sblood, nor I.—What wine love you, signor?

Lod. Here, or I’ll not stay, I protest: trouble the gentlewoman too much? [Gives money to Bellafront, who goes out.] And what news flies abroad, Matheo?

Mat. Troth, none. O signor, we ha’ been merry in our days.

Lod. And no doubt shall agen:^[351]

The divine powers never shoot darts at men

Mortal, to kill them.

Mat. You say true.

Lod. Why should we grieve at want? say the world made thee

Her minion, that thy head lay in her lap,

And that she danc’d thee on her wanton knee,

She could but give thee a whole world, that’s all,

And that all’s nothing; the world’s greatest part

Cannot fill up one corner of thy heart.

Say the three corners were all fill’d, alas,

Of what art thou possess’d? a thin-blown glass,

183Such as by boys is puff’d into the air.

Were twenty kingdoms thine, thou’dst live in care;

Thou couldst not sleep the better, nor live longer,

Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger.

If, then, thou want’st, thus make that want thy pleasure;

No man wants all things, nor has all in measure.

Mat. I am the most wretched fellow! sure some left-handed priest christened me, I am so unlucky; I am never out of one puddle or another; still falling.

Re-enter Bellafront with wine.

Fill out wine to my little finger. With my heart, i’faith. [Drinks.

Lod. Thanks, good Matheo. To your own sweet self.

[Drinks.

Re-enter Orlando.

Or. All the brokers’ hearts, sir, are made of flint: I can, with all my knocking, strike but six sparks of fire out of them: here’s six ducats, if you’ll take them.

Mat. Give me them [taking money]: an evil conscience gnaw them all! moths and plagues hang upon their lousy wardrobes!

Lod. Is this your man, Matheo?

Mat. An old^[352] serving-man.

Or. You may give me t’other half too, sir; that’s the beggar.

Lod. What hast there? gold?

Mat. A sort^[353] of rascals are in my debt God knows what, and they feed me with bits, with crums, a pox choke them!

184Lod. A word, Matheo; be not angry with me;

Believe it, that I know the touch of time,

And can part copper, though’t be gilded o’er,

From the true gold: the sails which thou dost spread

Would shew well if they were not borrowed.

The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither:

I give myself unto thee, prithee, use me;

I will bestow on you a suit of satin,

And all things else to fit a gentleman,

Because I love you.

Mat. Thanks, good, noble knight!

Lod. Call on me when you please: till then, farewell.

[Exit.

Mat. Hast angled? hast cut up this fresh salmon?

Bel. Wouldst have me be so base?

Mat. It’s base to steal, it’s base to be a whore:

Thou’lt be more base; I’ll make thee keep a door.^[354]

[Exit.

Or. I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he?

Bel. Thou seest he does.

Or. Nay, then, it’s well. I set my brains upon an upright last; though my wits be old, yet they are like a withered pippin, wholesome. Look you, mistress, I told him I had but six ducats of the knave broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for you.

Bel. Thou shouldst have given him all.

Or. What, to fly high?

Bel. Like waves, my misery drives on misery. [Exit.

Or. Sell his wife’s clothes from her back! does any poulterer’s wife pull chickens alive? He riots 185all abroad, wants all at home; he dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns: I’ll give him hook and line a little more for all this:

Yet sure i’ th’ end he’ll delude all my hopes,

And shew me a French trick danc’d on the ropes.

[Exit.