Act 3 — ACT III. SCENE I.

An apartment in Lord Beaufort’s house.

Enter Mistress George Cressingham disguised as a page, and Mistress Knavesby.

Mis. G. Cres. You’re welcome, mistress, as I may speak it,

But my lord will give’t a sweeter emphasis;

I'll give him knowledge of you. [Going.

Mis. Kna. Good sir, stay,

Methinks it sounds sweetest upon your tongue;

I'll wish you to go no further for my welcome.

Mis. G. Cres. Mine! it seems you never heard good music,

That commend a bagpipe: hear his harmony!

Mis. Kna. Nay, good now, let me borrow of your patience,

I'll pay you again before I rise to-morrow:

If it please you^[921]——

Mis. G. Cres. What would you, forsooth?

Mis. Kna. Your company, sir.

Mis. G. Cres. My attendance you should have, 455mistress, but that my lord expects it, and ’tis his due.

Mis. Kna. And must be paid upon the hour? that’s too strict; any time of the day will serve.

Mis. G. Cres. Alas, ’tis due every minute! and paid, ’tis due again, or else I forfeit my recognisance, the cloth I wear of his.

Mis. Kna. Come, come; pay it double at another time, and ’twill be quitted; I have a little use of you.

Mis. G. Cres. Of me, forsooth? small use can be made of me: if you have suit to my lord, none can speak better for you than you may yourself.

Mis. Kna. O, but I am bashful.

Mis. G. Cres. So am I, in troth, mistress.

Mis. Kna. Now I remember me, I have a toy to deliver your lord that’s yet unfinished, and you may further me: pray you, your hands, while I unwind this skein of gold from you; ’twill not detain you long.

[Putting skein on Mis. G. Cressingham’s hands.

Mis. G. Cres. You wind me into your service prettily: with all the haste you can, I beseech you.

Mis. Kna. If it tangle not, I shall soon have done.

Mis. G. Cres. No, it shall not tangle, if I can help it, forsooth.

Mis. Kna. If it do, I can help it; fear not: this thing of long length you shall see I can bring you to a bottom.

Mis. G. Cres. I think so too; if it be not bottomless, this length will reach it.

Mis. Kna. It becomes you finely; but I forewarn you, and remember it, your enemy gain not this advantage of you; you are his prisoner then; 456for, look you, you are mine now, my captive manacled, I have your hands in bondage.^[922]

Mis. G. Cres. ’Tis a good lesson, mistress, and I am perfect in it; another time I'll take out this, and learn another: pray you, release me now.

Mis. Kna. I could kiss you now, spite of your teeth, if it please me.

Mis. G. Cres. But you could not, for I could bite you with the spite of my teeth, if it pleases me.

Mis. Kna. Well, I'll not tempt you so far, I shew it but for rudiment.

Mis. G. Cres. When I go a-wooing, I'll think on’t again.

Mis. Kna. In such an hour I learnt it: say I should,

In recompence of your hands' courtesy,

Make you a fine wrist-favour of this gold,

With all the letters of your name emboss’d

On a soft tress of hair, which I shall cut

From mine own fillet, whose ends should meet and close

In a fast true-love knot, would you wear it

For my sake, sir?

Mis. G. Cres. I think not, truly, mistress;

My wrists have enough of this gold already;

Would they were rid on’t yet! pray you, have done;

In troth, I'm weary.

Mis. Kna. And what a virtue

Is here express’d in you, which had lain hid

But for this trial: weary of gold, sir?

O that the close engrossers of this treasure

Could be so free to put it off of hand!

457What a new-mended world would here be!

It shews a generous condition^[923] in you;

In sooth, I think I shall love you dearly for’t.

Mis. G. Cres. But if they were in prison, as I am,

They would be glad to buy their freedom with it.

Mis. Kna. Surely no; there are that, rather than release

This dear companion, do lie in prison

With it, yes, and will die in prison too.

Mis. G. Cres. ’Twere pity but the hangman did enfranchise both.

Enter Lord Beaufort.

L. Beau. Selenger, where are you?

Mis. G. Cres. E'en here, my lord.—Mistress, pray you, my liberty; you hinder my duty to my lord.

L. Beau. [taking off his hat] Nay, sir, one courtesy shall serve us both

At this time; you are busy, I perceive;

When next your leisure^[924] serves you, I'd employ you.

Mis. G. Cres. You must pardon me, my lord; you see I am entangled here.—Mistress, I protest I'll break prison, if you free me not: take you no notice?

Mis. Kna. O, cry your honour mercy!—You are now at liberty, sir. [Releasing her hands.

Mis. G. Cres. And I'm glad on’t; I'll ne’er give both my hands at once again to a woman’s command; I'll put one finger in a hole rather.

L. Beau. Leave us.

Mis. G. Cres. Free leave have you, my lord, so 458I think you may have.—Filthy beauty, what a white witch thou art! [Exit.

L. Beau. Lady, you’re welcome.

Mis. Kna. I did believe^[925] it from your page, my lord.

L. Beau. Your husband sent you to me?

Mis. Kna. He did, my lord;

With duty and commends unto your honour,

Beseeching you to use me very kindly,

By the same token your lordship gave him grant

Of a new lease of threescore pounds a-year,

Which he and his should forty years enjoy.

L. Beau. The token’s true; and for your sake, lady,

’Tis likely to be better’d; not alone the lease,

But the fee-simple may be his and yours.

Mis. Kna. I have a suit unto your lordship too,

Only myself concerns.

L. Beau. ’Twill be granted, sure,

Though it outvalue thy husband’s.

Mis. Kna. Nay, ’tis small charge;

Only your good will and good word, my lord.

L. Beau. The first is thine confirm’d; the second, then,

Cannot stay long behind.

Mis. Kna. I love your page, sir.

L. Beau. Love him! for what?

Mis. Kna. O the great wisdoms that

Our grandsires had! do you ask me reason for’t?

I love him ’cause I like him, sir.

L. Beau. My page!

Mis. Kna. In mine eye he is a most delicate youth,

But in my heart a thing that it would bleed for.

459L. Beau. Either your eye’s blinded or your remembrance broken;

Call to mind wherefore you came hither, lady.

Mis. Kna. I do, my lord; for love; and I'm in profoundly.

L. Beau. You trifle, sure; do you long for unripe fruit?

'Twill breed diseases in you.

Mis. Kna. Nothing but worms

In my belly, and there’s a seed to expel them;

In mellow, falling fruit I find no relish.

L. Beau. ’Tis true the youngest vines yield^[926] the most clusters,

But the old ever the sweetest grapes.

Mis. Kna. I can taste of both, sir;

But with the old I am the soonest cloy’d,

The green keep still an edge on appetite.

L. Beau. Sure you’re a common creature.

Mis. Kna. Did you doubt it?

Wherefore came I hither else? did you think

That honesty only had been immur’d for you,

And I should bring it as an offertory

Unto your shrine of lust? As ’twas, my lord,

’Twas meant to you, had not the slippery wheel

Of fancy^[927] turn’d when I beheld your page;

Nay, had I seen another before him

In mine eyes better grace, he had been forestall’d;

But as it is—all my strength cannot help—

Beseech you, your good will and good word, my lord;

You may command him, sir; if not affection,

Yet his body; and I desire but that:

Do it, and I'll command myself your prostitute.

L. Beau. You’re a base strumpet! I succeed my page!

460Mis. Kna. O, that’s no wonder, my lord; the servant oft

Tastes to his master of the daintiest dish

He brings to him: beseech you, my lord——

L. Beau. You’re a bold mischief; and to make me your spokesman,

Your procurer to my servant!

Mis. Kna. Do you shrink at that?

Why, you’ve done worse without the sense of ill,

With a full, free conscience of a libertine:

Judge your own sin;

Was it not worse, with a damn’d broking-fee

To corrupt a^[928] husband, ’state him a pander

To his own wife, by virtue of a lease

Made to him and your bastard issue, could you get ’em?

What a degree of baseness call you this?

’Tis a poor sheep-steal[er] provok’d by want

Compar’d unto a capital traitor: the master

To his servant may be recompens’d, but the husband

To his wife never.

L. Beau. Your husband shall smart for this. [Exit.

Mis. Kna. Hang him, do! you have brought him to deserve it;

Bring him to the punishment, there I'll join with you;

I loathe him to the gallows! hang your page too;

One mourning-gown shall serve for both of them.

This trick hath kept mine honesty secure;

Best soldiers use policy: the lion’s skin

Becomes the body not^[929] when ’tis too great,

But then the fox’s may sit close and neat. [Exit.

461