Chapter CXXIV: Act I: Scene I.4017

[_Enter_] WELLBORN [_in tattered apparel_], TAPWELL, _and_ FROTH.

_Well._ No bouse?[4018] nor no tobacco?

_Tap._ Not a suck, sir;
Nor the remainder of a single can
Left by a drunken porter, all night pall’d[4019] too.

_Froth._ Not the dropping of the tap for your morning’s draught, sir.
’T is verity, I assure you.

_Well._ Verity, you brach![4020] 5
The devil turn’d precisian![4021] Rogue, what am I?

_Tap._ Troth, durst I trust you with a looking-glass,
To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me
And take the name yourself.

_Well._ How, dog!

_Tap._ Even so, sir.
And I must tell you, if you but advance 10
Your Plymouth cloak[4022] you shall be soon instructed
There dwells, and within call, if it please your worship,
A potent monarch call’d the constable,
That does command a citadel call’d the stocks;
Whose guards are certain files of rusty billmen
Such as with great dexterity will hale 16
Your tatter’d, lousy——

_Well._ Rascal! slave!

_Froth._ No rage, sir.

_Tap._ At his own peril. Do not put yourself
In too much heat, there being no water near
To quench your thirst; and sure, for other liquor, 20
As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it,
You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir.

_Well._ Why, thou unthankful villain, dar’st thou talk thus!
Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?

_Tap._ I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell 25
Does keep no other register.

_Well._ Am not I he
Whose riots fed and cloth’d thee? Wert thou not
Born on my father’s land, and proud to be
A drudge in his house?

_Tap._ What I was, sir, it skills[4023] not; 29
What you are, is apparent. Now, for a farewell,
Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you,
I’ll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,
My quondam master, was a man of worship,
Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and _quorum_,[4024]
And stood fair to be _custos rotulorum_:[4025] 35
Bore the whole sway of the shire, kept a great house,
Reliev’d the poor, and so forth; but he dying,
And the twelve hundred a year coming to you,
Late Master Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn——

_Well._ Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.

_Froth._ Very hardly; 40
You cannot out of your way.

_Tap._ But to my story:
You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant,
And I your under-butler. Note the change now:
You had a merry time of’t; hawks and hounds;
With choice of running horses; mistresses 45
Of all sorts and all sizes, yet so hot,
As their embraces made your lordship melt;
Which your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing,
(Resolving not to lose a drop of ’em,)
On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds, 50
For a while suppli’d your looseness, and then left you.

_Well._ Some curate hath penn’d this invective, mongrel,
And you have studied it.

_Tap._ I have not done yet.
Your land gone, and your credit not worth a token,
You grew a common borrower; no man scap’d
Your paper-pellets,[4026] from the gentleman 56
To the beggars on highways, that sold you switches
In your gallantry.

_Well._ I shall switch your brains out.

_Tap._ Where poor Tim Tapwell, with a little stock,
Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage; 60
Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here,
Gave entertainment——

_Well._ Yes, to whores and canters,[4027]
Clubbers by night.

_Tap._ True, but they brought in profit,
And had a gift to pay for what they call’d for,
And stuck not like your mastership. The poor income 65
I glean’d from them hath made me in my parish
Thought worthy to be scavenger, and in time
May rise to be overseer of the poor;
Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn,
May allow you thirteen-pence a quarter, 70
And you shall thank my worship.

_Well._ Thus, you dog-bolt.
And thus—— _Beats and kicks him._

_Tap._ [_to his wife_.] Cry out for help!

_Well._ Stir, and thou diest:
Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save you.
Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! Did not I
Make purses for you? Then you lick’d my boots, 75
And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to clean ’em.
’T was I that, when I heard thee swear if ever
Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds thou wouldst
Live like an emperor, ’t was I that gave it
In ready gold. Deny this, wretch!

_Tap._ I must, sir; 80
For, from the tavern to the taphouse, all,
On forfeiture of their licenses, stand bound
Ne’er to remember who their best guests were,
If they grew poor like you.

_Well._ They are well rewarded
That beggar themselves to make such cuckolds rich. 85
Thou viper, thankless viper! impudent bawd!
But since you have grown forgetful, I will help
Your memory, and tread you into mortar,
Nor leave one bone unbroken. [_Beats him again_.]

_Tap._ Oh!

_Froth._ Ask mercy.

_Enter_ ALLWORTH.

_Well._ ’T will not be granted.

_All._ Hold—for my sake, hold. 90
Deny me, Frank? They are not worth your anger.

_Well._ For once thou hast redeem’d them from this sceptre;[4028]
But let ’em vanish, creeping on their knees,
And, if they grumble, I revoke my pardon.

_Froth._ This comes of your prating, husband; you presum’d 95
On your ambling wit, and must use your glib tongue,
Though you are beaten lame for’t.

_Tap._ Patience, Froth;
There’s law to cure our bruises.
_They go off on their hands and knees_.

_Well._ Sent to your mother?

_All._ My lady, Frank, my patroness, my all!
She ’s such a mourner for my father’s death,
And, in her love to him, so favours me, 101
That I cannot pay too much observance to her.
There are few such stepdames.

_Well._ ’T is a noble widow,
And keeps her reputation pure, and clear
From the least taint of infamy; her life, 105
With the splendour of her actions, leaves no tongue
To envy or detraction. Prithee tell me,
Has she no suitors?

_All._ Even the best of the shire, Frank,
My lord excepted; such as sue and send,
And send and sue again, but to no purpose; 110
Their frequent visits have not gain’d her presence.
Yet she’s so far from sullenness and pride,
That I dare undertake you shall meet from her
A liberal entertainment. I can give you
A catalogue of her suitors’ names.

_Well._ Forbear it, 115
While I give you good counsel: I am bound to it,
Thy father was my friend, and that affection
I bore to him, in right descends to thee;
Thou art a handsome and a hopeful youth, 119
Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee,
If I with any danger can prevent it.

_All._ I thank your noble care; but, pray you, in what
Do I run the hazard?

_Well._ Art thou not in love?
Put it not off with wonder.

_All._ In love, at my years!

_Well._ You think you walk in clouds, but are transparent. 125
I have heard all, and the choice that you have made,
And, with my finger, can point out the north star
By which the loadstone of your folly’s guided;
And, to confirm this true, what think you of
Fair Margaret, the only child and heir 130
Of Cormorant Overreach? Does it blush and start,
To hear her only nam’d? Blush at your want
Of wit and reason.

_All._ You are too bitter, sir.

_Well._ Wounds of this nature are not to be cur’d
With balms, but corrosives. I must be plain: 135
Art thou scarce manumis’d[4029] from the porter’s lodge[4030]
And yet sworn servant to the pantofle.[4031]
And dar’st thou dream of marriage? I fear
’T will be concluded for impossible
That there is now, or e’er shall be hereafter, 140
A handsome page or player’s boy of fourteen
But either loves a wench, or drabs love him;
Court-waiters not exempted.

_All._ This is madness.
Howe’er you have discover’d my intents,
You know my aims are lawful; and if ever 145
The queen of flowers, the glory of the spring,
The sweetest comfort to our smell, the rose,
Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer
There ’s such disparity in their conditions 149
Between the goodness of my soul, the daughter,
And the base churl of her father.

_Well._ Grant this true,
As I believe it, canst thou ever hope
To enjoy a quiet bed with her whose father
Ruin’d thy state?

_All._ And yours too.

_Well._ I confess it; 154
True; I must tell you as a friend, and freely,
That, where impossibilities are apparent,
’T is indiscretion to nourish hopes.
Canst thou imagine (let not self-love blind thee)
That Sir Giles Overreach, that, to make her great 159
In swelling titles, without touch of conscience
Will cut his neighbour’s throat, and I hope his own too,
Will e’er consent to make her thine? Give o’er,
And think of some course suitable to thy rank,
And prosper in it.

_All._ You have well advis’d me. 164
But in the meantime you that are so studious
Of my affairs wholly neglect your own.
Remember yourself, and in what plight you are.

_Well._ No matter, no matter.

_All._ Yes, ’t is much material.
You know my fortune and my means; yet something
I can spare from myself to help your wants.

_Well._ How’s this? 170

_All._ Nay, be not angry; there ’s eight pieces
To put you in better fashion.

_Well._ Money from thee!
From a boy. A stipendiary! One that lives
At the devotion of a stepmother
And the uncertain favour of a lord! 175
I’ll eat my arms first. Howsoe’er blind Fortune
Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me——
Though I am vomited out of an alehouse,
And thus accoutred—know not where to eat,
Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy—[4032] 180
Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer;
And as I in my madness broke my state
Without th’ assistance of another’s brain,
In my right wits I’ll piece it; at the worst, 184
Die thus and be forgotten.

_All._ A strange humour! _Exeunt._

SCENE II.[4033]

[_Enter_] ORDER, AMBLE, FURNACE, _and_ WATCHALL.

_Ord._ Set all things right, or, as my name is Order,
And by this staff of office that commands you,
This chain and double ruff, symbols of power,
Whoever misses in his function,
For one whole week makes forfeiture of his breakfast 5
And privilege in the wine-cellar.

_Amb._ You are merry,
Good master steward.

_Furn._ Let him; I’ll be angry.

_Amb._ Why, fellow Furnace, ’t is not twelve o’clock yet,
Nor dinner taking up; then, ’t is allow’d,
Cooks, by their places, may be choleric. 10

_Furn._ You think you have spoke wisely, goodman Amble,
My lady’s go-before!

_Ord._ Nay, nay, no wrangling.

_Furn._ Twit me with the authority of the kitchen!
At all hours, and all places, I’ll be angry;
And thus provok’d, when I am at my prayers 15
I will be angry.

_Amb._ There was no hurt meant.

_Furn._ I am friends with thee; and yet I will be angry.

_Ord._ With whom?

_Furn._ No matter whom: yet, now I think on it,
I am angry with my lady.

_Watch._ Heaven forbid, man!

_Ord._ What cause has she given thee?

_Furn._ Cause enough, master steward. 20
I was entertain’d by her to please her palate,
And, till she forswore eating, I perform’d it.
Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died,
Though I crack my brains to find out tempting sauces,
And raise fortifications in the pastry 25
Such as might serve for models in the Low Countries,
Which, if they had been practised at Breda,
Spinola might have thrown his cap at it, and ne’er took it[4034]——

_Amb._ But you had wanted matter there to work on.

_Furn._ Matter! with six eggs, and a strike[4035] of rye meal, 30
I had kept the town till doomsday, perhaps longer.

_Ord._ But what ’s this to your pet against my lady?

_Furn._ What ’s this? Marry this: when I am three parts roasted
And the fourth part parboil’d to prepare her viands,
She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada[4036] 35
Or water-gruel, my sweat never thought on.

_Ord._ But your art is seen in the dining-room.

_Furn._ By whom?
By such as pretend love to her, but come
To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies
That do devour her, I am out of charity 40
With none so much as the thin-gutted squire
That ’s stolen into commission.

_Ord._ Justice Greedy?

_Furn._ The same, the same; meat ’s cast away upon him,
It never thrives; he holds this paradox,
Who eats not well, can ne’er do justice well. 45
His stomach ’s as insatiate as the grave,
Or strumpet’s ravenous appetites. _Knocking._

_Watch._ One knocks.

_Enter_ ALLWORTH.

_Ord._ Our late young master!

_Amb._ Welcome, sir.

_Furn._ Your hand;
If you have a stomach, a cold bake-meat ’s ready.

_Ord._ His father’s picture in little.

_Furn._ We are all your servants. 50

_Amb._ In you he lives.

_All._ At once, my thanks to all;
This is yet some comfort. Is my lady stirring?

_Enter_ LADY ALLWORTH, Waiting Woman, _and_ Chambermaid.

_Ord._ Her presence answers for us.

_L. All._ Sort those silks well.
I ’ll take the air alone. _Exeunt_ W. Woman _and_ Chambermaid.

_Furn._ You air and air;
But will you never taste but spoon-meat more?
To what use serve I?

_L. All._ Prithee, be not angry; 56
I shall ere long: i’ the mean time, there is gold
To buy thee aprons, and a summer suit.

_Furn._ I am appeas’d, and Furnace now grows cool.[4037]

_L. All._ And, as I gave directions, if this morning 60
I am visited by any, entertain ’em
As heretofore; but say, in my excuse,
I am indispos’d.

_Ord._ I shall, madam.

_L. All._ Do, and leave them.
Nay, stay you, Allworth.
_Exeunt_ ORDER, AMBLE, FURNACE, _and_ WATCHALL.

_All._ I shall gladly grow here,
To wait on your commands.

_L. All._ So soon turn’d courtier! 65

_All._ Style not that courtship, madam, which is duty
Purchas’d on your part.

_L. All._ Well, you shall o’ercome;
I ’ll not contend in words. How is it with
Your noble master?

_All._ Ever like himself,
No scruple lessen’d in the full weight of honour. 70
He did command me, pardon my presumption,
As his unworthy deputy, to kiss
Your ladyship’s fair hands.

_L. All._ I am honour’d in
His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose
For the Low Countries?

_All._ Constantly, good madam; 75
But he will in person first present his service.

_L. All._ And how approve you of his course? You are yet
Like virgin parchment, capable of any
Inscription, vicious or honourable.
I will not force your will, but leave you free 80
To your own election.

_All._ Any form you please
I will put on; but, might I make my choice,
With humble emulation I would follow
The path my lord marks to me.

_L. All._ ’T is well answer’d,
And I commend your spirit. You had a father,
Blest be his memory! that some few hours 86
Before the will of Heaven took him from me,
Who did commend you, by the dearest ties
Of perfect love between us, to my charge;
And, therefore, what I speak you are bound to hear 90
With such respect as if he liv’d in me.
He was my husband, and howe’er you are not
Son of my womb, you may be of my love,
Provided you deserve it.

_All._ I have found you,
Most honour’d madam, the best mother to me;
And, with my utmost strengths of care and service, 96
Will labour that you never may repent
Your bounties shower’d upon me.

_L. All._ I much hope it.
These were your father’s words: “If e’er my son
Follow the war, tell him it is a school 100
Where all the principles tending to honour
Are taught, if truly followed: but for such
As repair thither as a place in which
They do presume they may with license practise
Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit 105
The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly
In a fair cause, and for their country’s safety
To run upon the cannon’s mouth undaunted;
To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies;
To bear with patience the winter’s cold 110
And summer’s scorching heat, and not to faint,
When plenty of provision fails, with hunger;
Are the essential parts make up a soldier,
Not swearing, dice, or drinking.”

_All._ There ’s no syllable
You speak, but is to me an oracle, 115
Which but to doubt were impious.

_L. All._ To conclude:
Beware ill company, for often men
Are like to those with whom they do converse;
And, from one man I warn[4038] you, and that ’s Wellborn:
Not ’cause he ’s poor, that rather claims your pity; 120
But that he ’s in his manners so debauch’d,
And hath to vicious courses sold himself.
’T is true, your father lov’d him, while he was
Worthy the loving; but if he had liv’d
To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off,
As you must do.

_All._ I shall obey in all things. 126

_L. All._ Follow me to my chamber, you shall have gold
To furnish you like my son, and still supplied,
As I hear from you.

_All._ I am still your creature. _Exeunt._

SCENE III.[4039]

[_Enter_] OVERREACH, GREEDY, ORDER, AMBLE, FURNACE, WATCHALL, _and_ MARRALL.

_Greedy._ Not to be seen!

_Over._ Still cloistered up! Her reason,
I hope, assures her, though she make herself
Close prisoner ever for her husband’s loss,
’T will not recover him.

_Ord._ Sir, it is her will.
Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve it, 5
And not dispute. Howe’er, you are nobly welcome;
And, if you please to stay, that you may think so,
There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe
Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself
For my lady’s honour.

_Greedy._ Is it of the right race? 10

_Ord._ Yes, Master Greedy.

_Amb._ How his mouth runs o’er!

_Furn._ I ’ll make it run, and run. Save your good worship!

_Greedy._ Honest Master Cook, thy hand; again, how I love thee!
Are the good dishes still in being? Speak, boy.

_Furn._ If you have a mind to feed, there is a chine[4040] 15
Of beef, well seasoned.

_Greedy._ Good!

_Furn._ A pheasant, larded.

_Greedy._ That I might now give thanks for ’t!

_Furn._ Other kickshaws,
Besides, there came last night, from the forest of Sherwood,
The fattest stag I ever cook’d.

_Greedy._ A stag, man!

_Furn._ A stag, sir; part of it prepar’d for dinner, 20
And bak’d in puff-paste.

_Greedy._ Puff-paste too! Sir Giles,
A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded!
And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak’d in puff-paste!
All business set aside, let us give thanks here.

_Furn._ How the lean skeleton ’s rapt!

_Over._ You know we cannot. 25

_Mar._ Your worships are to sit on a commission,
And if you fail to come, you lose the cause.

_Greedy._ Cause me no causes. I ’ll prove ’t, for such dinner
We may put off a commission: you shall find it
_Henrici decimo quarto_.

_Over._ Fie, Master Greedy! 30
Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?
No more, for shame! We must forget the belly
When we think of profit.

_Greedy._ Well, you shall o’er-rule me;
I could ev’n cry now.—Do you hear, Master Cook,
Send but a corner of that immortal pasty, 35
And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy,
Send you—a brace of three-pences.

_Furn._ Will you be so prodigal?

_Enter_ WELLBORN.

_Over._ Remember me to your lady. Who have we here?

_Well._ You know me.

_Over._ I did once, but now I will not;
Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar! 40
If ever thou presume to own me more,
I ’ll have thee cag’d and whipp’d.

_Greedy._ I ’ll grant the warrant.
Think of Pie-corner. Furnace!
_Exeunt_ OVERREACH, GREEDY, _and_ MARRALL.

_Watch._ Will you out, sir?
I wonder how you durst creep in.

_Ord._ This is rudeness,
And saucy impudence.

_Amb._ Cannot you stay 45
To be serv’d, among your fellows, from the basket,[4041]
But you must needs press into the hall?

_Furn._ Prithee, vanish
Into some outhouse, though it be the pigstye;
My scullion shall come to thee.

_Enter_ ALLWORTH.

_Well._ This is rare.
Oh, here ’s Tom Allworth. Tom!

_All._ We must be strangers; 50
Nor would I have you seen here for a million. _Exit._

_Well._ Better and better. He contemns me too!

_Enter_ Waiting Woman _and_ Chambermaid.

_Woman._ Foh, what a smell ’s here! What thing ’s this?

_Cham._ A creature
Made out of the privy; let us hence, for love’s sake.
Or I shall swoon.

_Woman._ I begin to feel faint already. 55

_Exeunt_ W. Woman _and_ Chambermaid.

_Watch._ Will you know your way;

_Amb._ Or shall we teach it you,
By the head and shoulders?

_Well._ No; I will not stir;
Do you mark, I will not: let me see the wretch
That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,
Created only to make legs,[4042] and cringe; 60
To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher;
That have not souls only to hope a blessing
Beyond black-jacks[4043] or flagons; you, that were born
Only to consume meat and drink, and batten[4044]
Upon reversions!—who advances? Who 65
Shews me the way?

_Ord._ My lady!

_Enter_ LADY ALLWORTH, Waiting Woman, _and_ Chambermaid.

_Cham._ Here ’s the monster.

_Woman._ Sweet madam, keep your glove to your nose.

_Cham._ Or let me
Fetch some perfumes may be predominant;
You wrong yourself else.

_Well._ Madam, my designs
Bear me to you.

_L. All._ To me!

_Well._ And though I have met with 70
But ragged entertainment from your grooms here,
I hope from you to receive that noble usage
As may become the true friend of your husband,
And then I shall forget these.

_L. All._ I am amaz’d
To see and hear this rudeness. Dar’st thou think, 75
Though sworn, that it can ever find belief,
That I, who to the best men of this country
Deni’d my presence since my husband’s death,
Can fall so low as to change words with thee?
Thou son of infamy, forbear my house, 80
And know and keep the distance that ’s between us;
Or, though it be against my gentler temper,
I shall take order you no more shall be
An eyesore to me.

_Well._ Scorn me not, good lady;
But, as in form you are angelical, 85
Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe
At the least awhile to hear me. You will grant
The blood that runs in this arm is as noble
As that which fills your veins; those costly jewels,
And those rich clothes you wear, your men’s observance 90
And women’s flattery, are in you no virtues,
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.
You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it;
Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more
Than in the pious sorrow you have shewn 95
For your late noble husband.

_Ord._ How she starts!

_Furn._ And hardly can keep finger from the eye,
To hear him nam’d.

_L. All._ Have you aught else to say?

_Well._ That husband, madam, was once in his fortune 99
Almost as low as I; want, debts, and quarrels
Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought
A boast in me, though I say I reliev’d him.
’T was I that gave him fashion; mine the sword
That did on all occasions second his;
I brought him on and off with honour, lady; 105
And when in all men’s judgments he was sunk,
And, in his own hopes, not to be buoy’d[4045] up,
I stepp’d unto him, took him by the hand,
And set him upright.

_Furn._ Are not we base rogues,
That could forget this?

_Well._ I confess, you made him 110
Master of your estate; nor could your friends,
Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for ’t;
For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind
Made up of all parts either great or noble;
So winning a behaviour, not to be 115
Resisted, madam.

_L. All._ ’T is most true, he had.

_Well._ For his sake, then, in that I was his friend,
Do not contemn me.

_L. All._ For what ’s past excuse me,
I will redeem it. Order, give the gentleman
A hundred pounds.

_Well._ No, madam, on no terms: 120
I will nor beg nor borrow sixpence of you,
But be suppli’d elsewhere, or want thus ever.
Only one suit I make, which you deny not
To strangers; and ’t is this. _Whispers to her._

_L. All._ Fie! nothing else?

_Well._ Nothing, unless you please to charge your servants 125
To throw away a little respect upon me.

_L. All._ What you demand is yours.

_Well._ I thank you, lady.
Now what can be wrought out of such a suit
Is yet in supposition: I have said all;
When you please, you may retire.— [_Exit_ LADY ALL.]
Nay, all ’s forgotten; [_To the_ Servants.]
And, for a lucky omen to my project, 131
Shake hands, and end all quarrels in the cellar.

_Ord._ Agreed, agreed.

_Furn._ Still merry Master Wellborn. _Exeunt._