Part 2 / Act 3 — SCENE III.

Before Candido’s Shop: Candido and his Bride discovered in the shop.

Enter Lodovico and Carolo on one side, Bots and Mistress Horseleech on the other.

Lod. Hist, hist, lieutenant Bots! how dost, man?

Car. Whither are you ambling, madam Horseleech?

Mis. H. About worldly profit, sir: how do your worships?

Bots. We want tools, gentlemen, to furnish the trade; they wear out day and night, they wear out till no mettle be left in their back. We hear of two or three new wenches are come up with a carrier, and your old goshawk here is flying at them.

Lod. And, faith, what flesh have you at home?

Mis. H. Ordinary dishes; by my troth, sweet men, there’s few good i’ th’ city: I am as well furnished as any, and, though I say it, as well customed.

Bots. We have meats of all sorts of dressing; we have stewed meat for your Frenchman,^[355] pretty light picking meat for your Italian, and that which is rotten roasted for Don Spaniardo.

Lod. A pox on’t!

Bots. We have poulterer’s ware for your sweet 186bloods, as dove, chicken, duck, teal, woodcock, and so forth; and butcher’s meat for the citizen, yet muttons^[356] fall very bad this year.

Lod. Stay; is not that my patient linen-draper yonder, and my fine young smug mistress his wife?

Car. Sirrah^[357] grannam, I’ll give thee for thy fee twenty crowns, if thou canst but procure me the wearing of yon velvet cap.

Mis. H. You’d wear another thing besides the cap: you’re a wag.

Bots. Twenty crowns? we’ll share, and I’ll be your pully to draw her on.

Lod. Do’t presently; we’ll ha’ some sport.

Mis. H. Wheel you about, sweet men: do you see? I’ll cheapen wares of the man, whilst Bots is doing with his wife.

Lod. To’t: if we come into the shop, to do you grace, we’ll call you madam.

Bots. Pox a’ your old face! give it the badge of all scurvy faces, a mask.

[Mistress Horseleech puts on a mask.

Can. What is’t you lack,^[358] gentlewoman? cambric, or lawns, or fine hollands? pray draw near, I can sell you a pennyworth.

Bots. Some cambric for my old lady.

Can. Cambric? you shall, the purest thread in Milan.

Car.^[359] Save you, signor Candido.

Lod. How does my noble master? how my fair mistress?

Can. My worshipful good servant.—View it well,

For ’tis both fine and even. [Shews cambric.

187Car. Cry you mercy, madam; though masked, I thought it should be you by your man.—Pray, signor, shew her the best, for she commonly deals for good ware.

Can. Then this shall fit her.—This is for your ladyship.

Bots. A word, I pray; there is a waiting gentlewoman of my lady’s, her name is Ruyna, says she’s your kinswoman, and that you should be one of her aunts.

Bride. One of her aunts? troth, sir, I know her not.

Bots. If it please you to bestow the poor labour of your legs at any time, I will be your convoy thither.

Bride. I am a snail, sir, seldom leave my house;

If’t please her to visit me, she shall be welcome.

Bots. Do you hear? the naked troth is, my lady hath a young knight, her son, who loves you; you’re made, if you lay hold upon’t: this jewel he sends you.

[Offers jewel.

Bride. Sir, I return his love and jewel with scorn;

Let go my hand, or I shall call my husband.

You are an arrant knave. [Exit.

Lod. What, will she do?

Bots. Do? they shall all do, if Bots sets upon them once: she was as if she had professed the trade, squeamish at first; at last I shewed her this jewel, said a knight sent it her.

Lod. Is’t gold and right stones?

Bots. Copper, copper, I go a-fishing with these baits. She nibbled,^[360] but would not swallow the 188hook, because the conger-head her husband was by: but she bids the gentleman name any afternoon and she’ll meet him at her garden-house,^[361] which I know.

Lod. Is this no lie, now?

Bots. Damn me if——

Lod. O, prithee, stay there.

Bots. The twenty crowns, sir.

Lod. Before he has his work done? but, on my knightly word, he shall pay’t thee.

Enter Astolfo, Beraldo, Fontinell, and Bryan.

Ast. I thought thou hadst been gone into thine own country.

Bry. No, faat, la, I cannot go dis four or tree days.

Ber. Look thee, yonder’s the shop, and that’s the man himself.

Fon. Thou shalt but cheapen, and do as we told thee, to put a jest upon him to abuse his patience.

Bry. I’faat, I doubt my pate shall be knocked: but, sa crees sa’ me, for your shakes I will run to any linen-draper in hell: come, predee.

Ast. Ber. Fon. } Save you, gallants.

Lod. Car. } O, well met!

Can. You’ll give no more, you say? I cannot take it.

Mis. H. Truly I’ll give no more.

Can. It must not fetch it.

What would you have, sweet gentlemen?

189Ast. Nay, here’s the customer.

[Exeunt Bots and Mistress Horseleech.

Lod. The garden-house, you say? we’ll bolt^[362] out your roguery.

Can. I will but lay these parcels by; my men

Are all at custom-house unloading wares;

If cambric you would deal in, there’s the best,

All Milan cannot sample it. [Shews cambric.

Lod. Do you hear? one, two, three,—’sfoot, there came in four gallants! sure your wife is slipt up; and the fourth man, I hold my life, is grafting your warden-tree.^[363]

Can. Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen are full of jest.

If she be up, she’s gone some wares to shew;

I have above as good wares as below.

Lod. Have you so? nay, then——

Can. Now, gentlemen, is’t cambrics?

Bry. I predee, now, let me have de best wa[u]res.

Can. What’s that he says, pray, gentlemen? u Lod. Marry, he says we are like to have the best wars.

Can. The best wars? all are bad, yet wars do good,

And, like to surgeons, let sick kingdoms blood.

Bry. Faat a devil pratest tow so? a pox on dee! I predee, let me see some hollen to make linen shirts, for fear my body be lousy.

Can. Indeed I understand no word he speaks.

Car. Marry, he says, that at the siege in Holland

There was much bawdry us’d among the soldiers,

Though they were lousy.

Can. It may be so, that’s likely; true indeed;

In every garden, sir, does grow that weed.

Bry. Pox on de gardens, and de weeds, and de 190fool’s cap dere, and de clouts! hear, doest make a hobby-horse of me? [Tearing the cambric.

All. O, fie! he has torn the^[364] cambric.

Can. ’Tis no matter.

Ast. It frets me to the soul.

Can. So does’t not me:

My customers do oft for remnants call;

These are two remnants now, no loss at all.

But let me tell you, were my servants here,

It would ha’ cost more. Thank you, gentlemen;

I use you well, pray know my shop agen.^[365]

All. Ha, ha, ha! come, come, let’s go, let’s go.

[Exeunt.