ACT V. SCENE I.

The same.

Lady Goldenfleece, and Mistress Low-water disguised as before, are discovered.

L. Gold. Now, like a greedy usurer alone,

I sum up all the wealth this day has brought me,

And thus I hug it. [Embracing her.

Mis. Low. Prithee——

L. Gold. Thus I kiss it. [Kissing her.

111Mis. Low. I can’t abide these kissings.

L. Gold. How, sir? not!

I’ll try that, sure; I’ll kiss you out of that humour.

Mis. Low. Push!^[156] by my troth, I cannot.

L. Gold. What cannot you, sir?

Mis. Low. Not toy, nor bill, and imitate house-pigeons;

A married man must think of other matters.

L. Gold. How, other matters, sir? what other matters?

Mis. Low. Why, are there no other matters that belong to’t?

Do you think you’ve married only a cock-sparrow,

And fit but for one business, like a fool?

You shall not find it so.

L. Gold. You can talk strangely, sir:

Come, will you to bed?

Mis. Low. No, faith, will not I.

L. Gold. What, not to bed, sir?

Mis. Low. And^[157] I do, hang me; not to bed with you.

L. Gold. How, not to bed with me, sir? with whom else?

Mis. Low. Why, am not I enough to lie with myself?

L. Gold. Is that the end of marriage?

Mis. Low. No, by my faith,

’Tis but the beginning yet; death is the end on’t,

Unless some trick come i’ the middle and dash all.

L. Gold. Were you so forward lately, and so youthful,

That scarce my modest strength could save me from you,

And are you now so cold?

112Mis. Low. I’ve thought on’t since;

It was but a rude part in me, i’faith,

To offer such bold tricks to any woman,

And by degrees I shall well break myself from’t;

I feel myself well chasten’d since that time,

And not the third part now so loosely minded.

O, when one sees their follies, ’tis a comfort!

My very thoughts take more staid years upon ’em.

O, marriage is such a serious, divine thing!

It makes youth grave, and sweetly nips the spring.

L. Gold. If I had chose a gentleman for care

And worldly business, I had ne’er took you;

I had the offers of enough more fit

For such employment; I chose you for love,

Youth, and content of heart, and not for troubles;

You are not ripe for them; after you’ve spent

Some twenty years in dalliance, youth’s affairs,

Then take a book in your hand, and sum up cares;

As for wealth now, you know that’s got to your hands.

Mis. Low. But had I known ’t had been so wrongfully got,

As I heard since, you should have had free leave

T’ have made choice of another master for’t.

L. Gold. Why, can that trouble you?

Mis. Low. It may too soon: but go,

My sleeps are sound, I love not to be started

With an ill conscience at the fall of midnight,

And have mine eyes torn ope with poor men’s curses;

I do not like the fate on’t, ’tis still apt

To breed unrest, dissension, wild debate,

And I’m the worst at quarrels upon earth,

Unless a mighty injury should provoke me:

Get you to bed, go.

L. Gold. Not without you, in troth, sir.

113Mis. Low. If you could think how much you wrong yourself

In my opinion of you, you would leave me now

With all the speed you might; I like you worse

For this fond heat, and drink in more suspicion of you:

You high-fed widows are too cunning people

For a poor gentleman to come simply to.

L. Gold. What’s that, sir?

Mis. Low. You may make a youth on him,

’Tis at your courtesy, and that’s ill trusted:

You could not want a friend, beside a suitor,

To sit in your husband’s gown, and look o’er your writings.

L. Gold. What’s this?

Mis. Low. I say there is a time when women

Can do too much, and understand too little:

Once more, to bed; I’d willingly be a father

To no more noses than I got myself;

And so good night to you.

L. Gold. Now I see the infection;

A yellow poison runs through the sweet spring

Of his fair youth already; ’tis distracted,

Jealous of that which thought yet never acted.— [Aside.

O dear sir, on my knees I swear to thee— [Kneels.

Mis. Low. I prithee, use them in thy private chamber,

As a good lady should; spare ’em not there,

’Twill do thee good; faith, none ’twill do thee here.

L. Gold. [rising] Have I yet married poverty, and miss’d^[158] love!

What fortune has my heart! that’s all I crav’d,

And that lies now a-dying; it has took

114A speeding poison, and I’m ignorant how:

I never knew what beggary was till now.

My wealth yields me no comfort in this plight;

Had want but brought me love, I’d happen’d right.

[Aside, and goes into her bed-chamber.

Mis. Low. So, this will serve now for a preparative

To ope the powers^[159] of some dislike at first;

The physic will pay’t home.—

Enter Low-water, disguised as before.

How dost thou, sir?

How goes the work?

Low. Your brother has the letter.

Mis. Low. I find no stop in’t then, it moves well hitherto;

Did you convey it closely?

Low. He ne’er set eye of me.

Enter above^[160] Beveril with a letter.

Bev. I cannot read too often.

Mis. Low. Peace; to your office.

Bev. What blessed fate took pity of my heart,

But with her presence to relieve me thus?

All the large volumes that my time hath master’d

Are not so precious to adorn my spirit

As these few lines are to enrich my mind;

I thirst again to drink of the same fountain.

[Reads.

Kind sir,—I found your care and love so much in the performance of a little, wherein your wit and art had late employment, that I dare now trust your bosom with business of more weight and eminence. Little thought the world, that, since the wedding-dinner, 115all my mirth was but dissembled, and seeming joys but counterfeit. The truth to you, sir, is, I find so little signs of content in the bargain I made i’ the morning, that I began to repent before evening prayer; and to shew some fruits of his wilful neglect and wild disposition, more than the day could bring forth to me, has now forsook my bed; I know no cause for’t.

Mis. Low. But I’ll be sworn I do. [Aside.

Bev. [reads] Being thus distressed, sir, I desire your comfortable presence and counsel, whom I know to be of worth and judgment, that a lady may safely impart her griefs to you, and commit ’em to the virtues of commiseration and secrecy.—Your unfortunate friend,

The Widow-Wife.

I have took order for your private admittance with a trusty servant of mine own, whom I have placed at my chamber-door to attend your coming.

He shall not wait too long, and curse my slowness.

Low. I would you’d come away then! [Aside.

Bev. How much am I beguil’d in that young gentleman!

I would have sworn had been the perfect abstract

Of honesty and mildness; ’tis not so.

Mis. Low. I pardon you, sweet brother; there’s no hold

Of what you speak now, you’re in Cupid’s pound.

[Aside.

Bev. Blest be the secret hand that brought thee hither;

But the dear hand that writ it, ten times blest!

[Exit above.

Low. That’s I still; has blest me now ten times at twice.

Away; I hear him coming.

116Mis. Low. Strike it sure now.

Low. I warrant thee, sweet Kate; choose your best——^[161]

[Exit Mis. Low-water.

Enter Beveril.

Bev. Who’s there?

Low. O sir, is’t you? you’re welcome then;

My lady still expects you, sir.

Bev. Who’s with her?

Low. Not any creature living, sir.

Bev. Drink that; [Giving money.

I’ve made thee wait too long.

Low. It does not seem so

Now, sir. Sir, if a man tread warily,

As any wise man will, how often may he come

To a lady’s chamber, and be welcome to her!

Bev. Thou giv’st me learnèd counsel for a closet.

Low. Make use on’t, sir, and you shall find no loss in’t.

[Beveril goes into Lady Goldenfleece’s bed-chamber.

So, you are surely in, and you must under.

Re-enter Mis. Low-water, with Sir O. Twilight, Lady Twilight, Sunset, Dutch Merchant, Grace, Jane, Philip Twilight, Sandfield, Savourwit, and Servants.

Mis. Low. Pardon my rude disturbance, my wrongs urge it;

I did but try the plainness of her mind,

Suspecting she dealt cunningly with my youth,

And told her the first night I would not know her;

But minding to return, I found the door

Warded suspiciously, and I heard a noise,

117Such as fear makes and guiltiness at th’ approaching

Of an unlook’d-for husband.

All. This is strange, sir.

Mis. Low. Behold, it’s barr’d; I must not be kept out.

Sir O. Twi. There is no reason, sir.

Mis. Low. I’ll be resolv’d^[162] in’t:

If you be sons of honour, follow me!

[Rushes into the bed-chamber, followed by Sir

Oliver Twilight, Sunset, &c.

Sav. Then must I stay behind; for I think I was begot i’ the woodyard, and that makes every thing go so hard with me.

Mis. Low. [within] That’s he; be sure on him.

Re-enter confusedly Mis. Low-water, Sir Oliver Twilight, Sunset, &c., Lady Goldenfleece and Beveril.

Sir O. Twi. Be not so furious, sir.

Mis. Low. She whisper’d to him to slip into her closet.—

What, have I taken you? is not my dream true now?

Unmerciful adultress, the first night!

Sir O. Twi. Nay, good sir, patience.

Mis. Low. Give me the villain’s heart,

That I may throw’t into her bosom quick!

There let the lecher pant.

L. Twi. Nay, sweet sir——

Mis. Low. Pardon me,

His life’s too little for me.

L. Gold. How am I wrongfully sham’d!—Speak your intent, sir,

Before this company; I pursue no pity.

118Mis. Low. This is a fine thievish juggling, gentlemen,

She asks her mate that shares in guilt with her;

Too gross, too gross!

Bev. Rash mischief! [Aside.

Mis. Low. Treacherous sir,

Did I for this cast a friend’s arm about thee,

Gave thee the welcome of a worthy spirit,

And lodg’d thee in my house, nay, entertain’d thee

More like a natural brother than a stranger?

And have I this reward? perhaps the pride

Of thy good parts did lift thee to this impudence;

Let her make much on ’em, she gets none of me:

Because thou’rt deeply read in most books else,

Thou wouldst be so in mine; there it stands for thee,

Turn o’er the leaves, and where you left, go forward;

To me it shall be like the book of fate,

Ever claspt up.

Sir O. Twi. O dear sir, say not so!

Mis. Low. Nay, I’ll swear more; for ever I refuse^[163] her;

I’ll never set a foot into her bed,

Never perform the duty of man to her,

So long as I have breath.

Sir O. Twi. What an oath was there, sir!

Call it again.

Mis. Low. I knew, by amorous sparks struck from their eyes,

The fire would appear shortly in a blaze,

And now it flames indeed.—Out of my house,

And take your gentleman of good parts along with you!

119That shall be all your substance; he can live

In any emperor’s court in Christendom:

You knew^[164] what you did, wench, when you chose him

To thrust out me; you have no^[165] politic love!

You are to learn to make your market, you!

You can choose wit, a burden light and free,

And leave the grosser element with me,

Wealth, foolish trash; I thank you. Out of my doors!

Sir O. Twi. Nay, good sir, hear her.

L. Twi. Sun. Sweet sir——

Mis. Low. Pray, to your chambers, gentlemen; I should be here

Master of what is mine.

Sir O. Twi. Hear her but speak, sir.

Mis. Low. What can she speak but woman’s common language?

She’s sorry and asham’d for’t,—that helps nothing.

L. Gold. Sir, since it is the hard hap of my life

To receive injury where I plac’d my love——

Mis. Low. Why, la, I told you what escapes she’d have!

Sir O. Twi. Nay, pray, sir, hear her forward.

L. Gold. Let our parting

Be full as charitable as our meeting was;

That the pale, envious world, glad of the food

Of others’ miseries, civil dissensions,

And nuptial strifes, may not feed fat with ours;

But since you are resolv’d so wilfully

To leave my bed, and ever to refuse me—

As by your rage I find it your desire,

120Though all my actions deserve nothing less—

Here are our friends, men both of worth and wisdom;

Place so much power in them, to make an evenness

Between my peace and yours: all my wealth within doors,

In gold and jewels, lie[s] in those two caskets

I lately led you to, the value of which

Amounts to some five thousand [pounds] a-piece;

Exchange a charitable hand with me,

And take one casket freely,—fare thee well, sir.

Sir O. Twi. How say you to that now?

Mis. Low. Troth, I thank her, sir!

Are not both mine already? you shall wrong me,

And then make satisfaction with mine own!

I cannot blame you,—a good course for you!

L. Gold. I knew^[166] ’twas not my luck to be so happy;

My miseries are no starters; when they come,

Stick longer by me.

Sir O. Twi. Nay, but give me leave, sir,

The wealth comes all by her.

Mis. Low. So does the shame,

Yet that’s most mine; why should not that be too?

Sir O. Twi. Sweet sir, let us rule^[167] so much with you;

Since you intend an obstinate separation,

Both from her bed and board, give your consent

To some agreement reasonable and honest.

Mis. Low. Must I deal honestly with her lust?

L. Twi. Nay, good sir——

Mis. Low. Why, I tell you, all the wealth her husband left her

Is not of power to purchase the dear peace

121My heart has lost in these adulterous seas;

Yet let her works be base, mine shall be noble.

Sir O. Twi. That’s the best word of comfort I heard yet.

Mis. Low. Friends may do much.—Go, bring those caskets forth.— [Exeunt two Servants.

I hate her sight; I’ll leave her, though I lose by’t.

Sir O. Twi. Spoke like a noble gentleman, i’faith!

I’ll honour thee for this.

Bev. O cursed man!

Must thy rash heat force this division? [Aside.

Mis. Low. You shall have free leave now, without all fear;

You shall not need oil’d hinges, privy passages,

Watchings and whisperings; take him boldly to you.

L. Gold. O that I had that freedom! since my shame

Puts by all other fortunes, and owns him,

A worthy gentleman: if this cloud were past him,

I’d marry him, were’t but to spite thee only,

So much I hate thee now.

Re-enter Servants with two caskets, followed by Sir Gilbert Lambstone, Weatherwise, Pepperton, and Overdone.

Sir O. Twi. Here come the caskets, sir; hold your good mind now,

And we shall make a virtuous end between you.

Mis. Low. Though nothing less she merit but a curse,

That might still hang upon her and consume her still,

As’t has been many a better woman’s fortune,

That has deserv’d less vengeance and felt more,

Yet my mind scorns to leave her shame so poor.

122Sir O. Twi. Nobly spoke still!

Sir G. Lamb. This strikes me into music; ha, ha!

Pep. Parting of goods before the bodies join!

Wea. This ’tis to marry beardless, domineering boys; I knew ’twould come to this pass: well fare a just almanac yet; for now is Mercury going into the second house near unto Ursa Major, that great hunks, the Bear at the Bridge-foot in heaven,^[168] which shews horrible bear-baitings in wedlock; and the Sun near entering into the Dog, sets ’em all together by the ears.

Sir O. Twi. You see what’s in’t.

Mis. Low. I think ’tis as I left it.

L. Gold. Then do but gage your faith to this assembly,

That you will ne’er return more to molest me,

But rest in all revenges full appeas’d

And amply satisfied with that half my wealth,

And take’t as freely as life wishes health!

Sir O. Twi. La, you, sir! come, come, faith, you shall swear that.

Mis. Low. Nay, gentlemen,

For your sakes now I will deal fairly with her.

Sir O. Twi. I would we might see that, sir!

Mis. Low. I could set her free;

But now I think on’t, she deserves it not.

123Sun. Nay, do not check your goodness; pray, sir, on with’t.

Mis. Low. I could release her ere I parted with her—

But ’twere a courtesy ill plac’d—and set her

At as free liberty to marry again

As you all know she was before I knew her.

Sir O. Twi. What, couldst thou, sir?

Mis. Low. But ’tis too good a blessing for her;—

Up with the casket, sirrah.

L. Gold. O sir, stay!

Mis. Low. I’ve nothing to say to you.

Sir O. Twi. Do you hear, sir?

Pray, let’s have one word more with you for our money.

L. Gold. Since you’ve expos’d me to all shame and sorrow,

And made me fit but for one hope and fortune,

Bearing my former comforts away with you,

Shew me a parting charity but in this,—

For all my losses pay me with that freedom,

And I shall think this treasure as well given

As ever ’twas ill got.

Mis. Low. I might afford it you,

Because I ne’er mean to be more troubled with you;

But how shall I be sure of the honest use on’t,

How you’ll employ that liberty? perhaps sinfully,

In wantonness unlawful, and I answer for’t;

So I may live a bawd to your loose works still,

In giving ’em first vent; not I, shall pardon me;

I’ll see you honestly join’d ere I release you;

I will not trust you, for the last trick you play’d me:

Here’s your old suitors.

Pep. Now we thank you, sir.

124 Wea. My almanac warns me from all cuckoldy conjunctions.

L. Gold. Be but commander of your word now, sir,

And before all these gentlemen, our friends,

I’ll make a worthy choice.

Sun. Fly not ye back now.

Mis. Low. I’ll try thee once: I’m married to another,

There’s thy release.

Sir O. Twi. Hoyday! there’s a release with a witness!

Thou’rt free, sweet wench.

L. Gold. Married to another!

Then, in revenge to thee,^[169]

To vex thine eyes, ’cause thou hast mock’d my heart,

And with such treachery repaid my love,

This is the gentleman I embrace and choose.

[Taking Beveril by the hand.

Mis. Low. O torment to my blood, mine enemy!

None else to make thy choice of but the man

From whence my shame took head!

L. Gold. ’Tis done to quit^[170] thee;

Thou that wrong’st woman’s love, her hate can fit thee.

Sir O. Twi. Brave wench, i’faith! now thou’st an honest gentleman,

Rid of a swaggering knave, and there’s an end on’t;

A man of good parts, this t’other had nothing.

Life, married to another!

Sir G. Lamb. O, brave rascal, with two wives!

125Wea. Nay, and^[171] our women be such subtle animals, I’ll lay wait at the carrier’s for a country chamber-maid, and live still a bachelor. When wives are like almanacs, we may have every year a new one, then I’ll bestow my money on ’em; in the meantime I’ll give ’em over, and ne’er trouble my almanac about ’em.

Sir G. Lamb. I come in a good time to see you hang’d, sir,

And that’s my comfort; now I’ll tickle you, sir.

Mis. Low. You make me laugh indeed.

Sir G. Lamb. Sir, you remember

How cunningly you chok’d me at the banquet

With a fine bawdy letter?

Mis. Low. Your own fist, sir.

Sir G. Lamb. I’ll read the statute-book to you now for’t;

Turn to the act^[172] in anno Jac. primo,

There lies a halter for your windpipe.

Mis. Low. Fie, no!

Sir O. Twi. Faith, but you’ll find it so, sir, an’t be follow’d.

Wea. So says my almanac, and he’s a true man:

Look you; [reads] The thirteenth day, work for the hangman.

Mis. Low. The fourteenth day, make haste,—’tis time you were there then.

Wea. How! is the book so saucy to tell me so?

Bev. Sir, I must tell you now, but without gall,

The law would hang you, if married to another.

Mis. Low. You can but put me to my book, sweet brother,

126And I’ve my neck-verse^[173] perfect here and here:

Heaven give thee eternal joy, my dear, sweet brother!

[Discovering herself, and embracing Beveril:

Low-water also discovers himself.

Sir O. Twi. L. Twi., &c. Who’s here?

Sir G. Lamb. O devil! herself! did she betray me?

A pox of shame, nine coaches shall not stay me! [Exit.

Bev. I’ve two such deep healths in two joys to pledge,

Heaven keep me from a surfeit!

Sir O. Twi. Mistress Low-water!

Is she the jealous cuckold all this coil’s about?—

And my right worshipful serving-man, is’t you, sir?

Low. A poor, wrong’d gentleman, glad to serve for his own, sir.

Sir O. Twi. By my faith,

You’ve serv’d the widow a fine trick between you.

Mis. Low. No more my enemy now, my brother’s wife

And my kind sister.

Sir O. Twi. There’s no starting now from’t:

’Tis her own brother; did not you know that?

L. Gold. ’Twas never told me yet.

Sir O. Twi. I thought y’had known’t.

Mis. Low. What matter is’t? ’tis the same man was chose still,

No worse now than he was. I’m bound to love you;

You’ve exercis’d^[174] in this a double charity,

127Which, to your praise, shall to all times be known,

Advanc’d my brother, and restor’d mine own,

Nay, somewhat for my wrongs, like a good sister—

For well you know the tedious suit did cost

Much pains and fees; I thank you, ’tis not lost—

You wish’d for love, and, faith, I have bestow’d you

Upon a gentleman that does dearly love you;

That recompence I’ve made you; and you must think, madam,

I lov’d you well—though I could never ease you—

When I fetch’d in my brother thus to please you.

Sir O. Twi. Here’s unity for ever strangely wrought!

L. Gold. I see, too late, there is a heavy judgment

Keeps company with extortion and foul deeds,

And, like a wind which vengeance has in chase,

Drives back the wrongs into the injurer’s face:

My punishment is gentle; and to shew

My thankful mind for’t, thus I’ll revenge this,

With an embracement here, and here a kiss.

[Embraces Mistress Low-water and kisses

Beveril.

Sir O. Twi. Why, now the bells they go trim, they go trim.—

I wish’d thee, sir, some unexpected blessing,

For my wife’s ransom, and ’tis faln upon thee.

Wea. A pox of this! my almanac ne’er gulled me till this hour: the thirteenth day, work for the hangman, and there’s nothing toward it. I’d been a fine ass if I’d given twelvepence for a horse to have rid to Tyburn to-morrow. But now I see the error, ’tis false-figured; it should be, thirteen days and a half, work for the hangman, for he ne’er works under thirteenpence halfpenny; beside, 128Venus being a spot in the sun’s garment, shews there should be a woman found in hose^[175] and doublet.

Sir O. Twi. Nay, faith, sweet wife, we’ll make no more hours on’t now, ’tis as fine a contracting time as ever came amongst gentlefolks.—Son Philip, master Sandfield, come to the book here.

Phil. Now I’m wak’d

Into a thousand miseries and their torments.

Sav. And I come after you, sir, drawn with wild horses; there will be a brave show on’s anon, if this weather continue.

Sir O. Twi. Come, wenches, where be these young gen[tle]men’s hands now?

L. Twi. Poor gentleman, my son! [Aside.]—Some other time, sir.

Sir O. Twi. I’ll have’t now, i’faith, wife.

L. Gold. What are you making here?

Sir O. Twi. I’ve sworn, sweet madam,

My son shall marry master Sunset’s daughter,

And master Sandfield mine.

L. Gold. So you go well, sir;

But what make you this way then?

Sir O. Twi. This? for my son.

L. Gold. O back, sir, back! this is no way for him.

Sunset. Sir O. Twi. How!

L. Gold. O, let me break an oath, to save two souls,

Lest I should wake another judgment greater!

You come not here for him, sir.

Sir O. Twi. What’s the matter?

129L. Gold. Either give me free leave to make this match,

Or I’ll forbid the banes.^[176]

Sir O. Twi. Good madam, take it.

L. Gold. Here, master Sandfield, then——

Sir O. Twi. Cuds bodkins!

L. Gold. Take you this maid.

[Giving Jane to Sandfield.

Sand. You could not please me better, madam.

Sir O. Twi. Hoyday! is this your hot love to my daughter, sir?

L. Gold. Come hither, Philip; here’s a wife for you.

[Giving Grace to Philip Twilight.

Sir O. Twi. Zouns, he shall ne’er do that; marry his sister!

L. Gold. Had he been rul’d by you, he had married her,

But now he marries master Sunset’s daughter,

And master Sandfield yours: I’ve sav’d your oath sir.

Phil. O may this blessing hold!

Sav. Or else all the liquor runs out.

Sir O. Twi. What riddle’s this, madam?

L. Gold. A riddle of some fourteen years of age now.—

You can remember, madam, that your daughter

Was put to nurse to master Sunset’s wife.

L. Twi. True, that we talk’d on lately.

Sir O. Twi. I grant that, madam.

L. Gold. Then you shall grant what follows: at that time,

You likewise know, old master Sunset here

Grew backward in the world, till his last fortunes

Rais’d him to this estate.

130Sir O. Twi. Still this we know too.

L. Gold. His wife, then nurse both to her own and yours,

And both so young, of equal years, and daughters,

Fearing the extremity of her fortunes then

Should fall upon her infant, to prevent it,

She chang’d the children, kept your daughter with her,

And sent her own to you for better fortunes.

So long, enjoin’d by solemn oath unto’t

Upon her deathbed, I have conceal’d this;

But now so urg’d, here’s yours, and this is his.

Sav. Whoop, the joy is come of our side!

Wea. Hey! I’ll cast mine almanac to the moon too, and strike out a new one for next year.

Phil. It wants expression, this miraculous blessing!

Sav. Methinks I could spring up and knock my head

Against yon silver ceiling now for joy!

Wea. By my faith, but I do not mean to follow you there, so I may dash out my brains against Charles’ wain, and come down as wise as a carman.

Sir O. Twi. I never wonder’d yet with greater pleasure.

L. Twi. What tears have I bestow’d on a lost daughter,

And left her [here] behind me!

L. Gold. This is Grace,

This Jane; now each has her right name and place.

Sun. I never heard of this.

L. Gold. I’ll swear you did not, sir.

Sir O. Twi. How well I’ve kept mine oath against my will!

Clap hands, and joy go with you! well said, boys!

131Phil. How art thou blest from shame, and I from ruin!

[To Grace.

Sav. I from the baker’s ditch, if I’d seen you in.

Phil. Not possible the whole world to match again

Such grief, such joy, in minutes lost and won!

Bev. Who ever knew more happiness in less compass?

Ne’er was poor gentleman so bound to a sister

As I am, for the weakness^[177] of thy mind;

Not only that thy due, but all our wealth

Shall lie as open as the sun to man,

For thy employments; so the charity

Of this dear bosom bids me tell thee now.

Mis. Low. I am her servant for’t.

L. Gold. Hah, worthy sister!

The government of all I bless thee with.

Bev. Come, gentlemen, on all perpetual friendship.

Heaven still relieves what misery would destroy;

Never was night yet of more general joy.

[Exeunt omnes.

132

EPILOGUE

Spoken by Weatherwise.

Now, let me see, what weather shall we have now?

Hold fair now, and I care not [looking at almanac]: mass, full moon too

Just between five and six this afternoon!

This happens right; [reads] the sky for the best part clear,

Save here and there a cloud or two dispers’d,—

That’s some dozen of panders and half a score

Pickpockets, you may know them by their whistle;

And they do well to use that while they may,

For Tyburn cracks the pipe and spoils the music.

What says the destiny of the hour this evening?

Hah, [reads] fear no colours! by my troth, agreed then;

The red and white looks cheerfully; for, know ye all,

The planet’s Jupiter, you should be jovial;

There’s nothing lets^[178] it but the Sun i’ the Dog:

Some bark in corners that will fawn and cog,^[179]

Glad of my fragments for their ember-week;

The sign’s in Gemini too, both hands should meet,

There should be noise i’ th’ air, if all things hap,

Though I love thunder when you make the clap.

Some faults perhaps have slipt, I am to answer:^[180]

And if in any thing your revenge appears,

Send me in with all your fists about mine ears.

133