Chapter LXXII: Act III: Scene I.2507 (2)

_Orl._ Thanks to your grace: but, my good lord, for my daughter— 20

_Duke._ You know what I have said.

_Orl._ And remember what I have sworn. She ’s more honest, on my
soul, than one of the Turks’ wenches, watcht by a hundred eunuchs.

_Lod._ So she had need, for the Turks make (25) them whores.

_Orl._ He ’s a Turk that makes any woman a whore; he ’s no true
Christian, I ’m sure. I commit your grace.

_Duke._ Infelice. 30

_Inf._ Here, sir.

_Lod._ Signor Friscobaldo.

_Orl._ Frisking again? Pacheco.

_Lod._ Uds so, Pacheco! We ’ll have some sport with this warrant: ’t
is to apprehend (35) all suspected persons in the house. Besides,
there ’s one Bots, a pander, and one Madam Horseleech, a bawd, that
have abus’d my friend; those two conies will we ferret into the
purse-net.[2564] 40

_Orl._ Let me alone for dabbing them o’ th’ neck. Come, come.

_Lod._ Do ye hear, gallants? Meet me anon at Matheo’s.

_All._ Enough. 45
_Exeunt_ LODOVICO _and_ ORLANDO.

_Duke._ Th’ old fellow sings that note thou didst before,
Only his tunes are, that she is no whore,
But that she sent his letters and his gifts,
Out of a noble triumph o’er his lust,
To show she trampled his assaults in dust. 50

_Inf._ ’T is a good honest servant, that old man.

_Duke._ I doubt no less.

_Inf._ And it may be my husband,
Because when once this woman was unmaskt,
He levell’d all her thoughts, and made them fit,
Now he ’d mar all again, to try his wit. 55

_Duke._ It may be so too, for to turn a harlot
Honest, it must be by strong antidotes;
’T is rare, as to see panthers change their spots.
And when she ’s once a star fix’d and shines bright,
Though ’t were impiety then to dim her light, 60
Because we see such tapers seldom burn,
Yet ’t is the pride and glory of some men,
To change her to a blazing star again,
And it may be, Hippolito does no more.—
It cannot be but you ’re acquainted all 65
With that same madness of our son-in-law,
That dotes so on a courtesan.

_All._ Yes, my lord.

_Car._ All the city thinks he ’s a whoremonger.

_Ast._ Yet I warrant he ’ll swear no man marks him. 70

_Ber._ ’T is like so, for when a man goes a wenching, is as if he had
a strong stinking breath, every one smells him out, yet he feels it
not, though it be ranker than the sweat of sixteen bear warders. 75

_Duke._ I doubt then you have all those stinking breaths;
You might be all smelt out.

_Car._ Troth, my lord. I think we are all as you ha’ been in your
youth when you went a-maying; we all love to hear the cuckoo sing 80
upon other men’s trees.

_Duke._ It ’s well; yet you confess. But, girl, thy bed
Shall not be parted with a courtesan.
’T is strange,
No frown of mine, no frown of the poor lady, 85
My abus’d child, his wife, no care of fame,
Of honour, heaven, or hell, no not that name
Of common strumpet, can affright, or woo him
To abandon her; the harlot does undo him; 89
She has bewitcht him, robb’d him of his shape,
Turn’d him into a beast; his reason ’s lost;
You see he looks wild, does he not?

_Car._ I ha’ noted
New moons in ’s face, my lord, all full of change.

_Duke._ He ’s no more like unto Hippolito
Than dead men are to living—never sleeps, 95
Or if he do, it ’s dreams: and in those dreams
His arms work, and then cries, “Sweet”—what ’s her name.
What ’s the drab’s name?

_Ast._ In troth, my lord, I know not,
I know no drabs, not I.

_Duke._ Oh, Bellafront!— 99
And, catching her fast, cries, “My Bellafront!”

_Car._ A drench that ’s able to kill a horse, cannot kill this
disease of smock-smelling, my lord, if it have once eaten deep.

_Duke._ I ’ll try all physic, and this medicine first: 104
I have directed warrants strong and peremptory
To purge our city Milan, and to cure
The outward parts, the suburbs, for the attaching
Of all those women, who, like gold, want weight:
Cities, like ships, should have no idle freight. 109

_Car._ No, my lord, and light wenches are no idle freight; but what
’s your grace’s reach[2565] in this?

_Duke._ This, Carolo. If she whom my son dotes on,
Be in that master-book enroll’d, he ’ll shame
Ever t’ approach one of such noted name. 115

_Car._ But say she be not?

_Duke._ Yet on harlots’ heads
New laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows
Shall give to those that haunt them, that Hippolito
If not for fear of law, for love to her,
If he love truly, shall her bed forbear. 120

_Car._ Attach all the light heels i’ the city and clap ’em up? Why,
my lord, you dive into a well unsearchable: all the whores within
the walls, and without the walls? I would not be (124) he should
meddle with them for ten such dukedoms; the army that you speak on
is able to fill all the prisons within this city, and to leave not a
drinking-room in any tavern besides.

_Duke._ Those only shall be caught that are of note;
Harlots in each street flow: 130
The fish being thus i’ th’ net, ourself will sit,
And with eye most severe dispose of it.
Come, girl. [_Exeunt_ DUKE _and_ INFELICE.]

_Car._ Arraign the poor whores!

_Ast._ I ’ll not miss that sessions. 135

_Font._ Nor I.

_Ber._ Nor I, though I hold up my hand there myself. _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][2566]

_Enter_ MATHEO, LODOVICO, _and_ ORLANDO [_disguised as a_ Serving-man].

_Mat._ Let who will come, my noble chevalier; I can but play the kind
host, and bid ’em welcome.

_Lod._ We ’ll trouble your house, Matheo, but as Dutchmen do in
taverns, drink, be merry, (5) and be gone.

_Orl._ Indeed, if you be right Dutchmen; if you fall to drinking, you
must be gone.

_Mat._ The worst is, my wife is not at home; but we ’ll fly high, my
generous knight, for all that. There ’s no music when a woman is in 11
the concert.

_Orl._ No; for she ’s like a pair of virginals,
Always with jacks at her tail.

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ See, the covey is sprung. 15

_All._ Save you, gallants.

_Mat._ Happily encounter’d, sweet bloods.

_Lod._ Gentlemen, you all know Signor Candido, the linen-draper, he
that ’s more patient than a brown baker upon the day when he heats
his oven, and has forty scolds about him. 21

_All._ Yes, we know him all; what of him?

_Lod._ Would it not be a good fit of mirth, to make a piece of
English cloth of him, and to stretch him on the tenters,[2567] till
the threads of his own natural humour crack, by making (26) him drink
healths, tobacco, dance, sing bawdy songs, or to run any bias[2568]
according as we think good to cast him? 29

_Car._ ’T were a morris-dance worth the seeing.

_Ast._ But the old fox is so crafty, we shall hardly hunt him out of
his den.

_Mat._ To that train I ha’ given fire already; and the hook to draw
him hither, is to see certain pieces of lawn, which I told him I have
(35) to sell, and indeed have such; fetch them down, Pacheco.

_Orl._ Yes, sir, I ’m your water-spaniel, and will fetch any
thing—[_Aside._] but I ’ll fetch one dish of meat anon shall turn
your stomach, and that ’s a constable. _Exit._ 41

_Enter_ BOTS _ushering_ Mistress HORSELEECH.

_All._ How now? how now?

_Car._ What galley-foist[2569] is this?

_Lod._ Peace, two dishes of stewed prunes,[2570] a bawd and a pander.
My worthy lieutenant Bots; why, now I see thou ’rt a man of thy word,
(46) welcome.—Welcome Mistress Horseleech.—Pray, gentlemen, salute
this reverend matron.

_Mis. H._ Thanks to all your worships. 49

_Lod._ I bade a drawer send in wine, too: did none come along with
thee, grannam, but the lieutenant?

_Mis. H._ None came along with me but Bots, if it like your worship.

_Bots._ Who the pox should come along with you but Bots. 56

_Enter two_ Vintners [_with wine_].

_All._ Oh brave! march fair.

_Lod._ Are you come? That ’s well.

_Mat._ Here ’s ordnance able to sack a city.

_Lod._ Come, repeat, read this inventory. 60

_1 Vint. Imprimis_, a pottle[2571] of Greek wine, a pottle of
Peter-sameene,[2572] a pottle of Charneco,[2573] and a pottle of
Leatica.[2574]

_Lod._ You ’re paid?

_2 Vint._ Yes, Sir. _Exeunt_ Vintners.

_Mat._ So shall some of us be anon, I fear. 66

_Bots._ Here ’s a hot day towards: but zounds, this is the life out
of which a soldier sucks sweetness! When this artillery goes off
roundly, some must drop to the ground: cannon, demi-cannon, saker,
and basilisk.[2575] 71

_Lod._ Give fire, lieutenant.

_Bots._ So, so: must I venture first upon the breach? To you all,
gallants; Bots sets upon you all. [_Drinks._] 75

_All._ It ’s hard, Bots, if we pepper not you, as well as you pepper
us.

_Enter_ CANDIDO.

_Lod._ My noble linen-draper!—Some wine!—Welcome, old lad!

_Mat._ You ’re welcome, signor. 80

_Cand._ These lawns, sir?

_Mat._ Presently; my man is gone for them. We ha’ rigged a fleet, you
see here, to sail about the world.

_Cand._ A dangerous voyage, sailing in such ships. 86

_Bots._ There ’s no casting over board yet.

_Lod._ Because you are an old lady, I will have you be acquainted
with this grave citizen. Pray bestow your lips upon him, and bid him
welcome. 91

_Mis. H._ Any citizen shall be most welcome to me:—I have used to
buy ware at your shop.

_Cand._ It may be so, good madam. 94

_Mis. H._ Your prentices know my dealings well; I trust your good
wife be in good case. If it please you, bear her a token from my
lips, by word of mouth. [_Kisses him._]

_Cand._ I pray, no more; forsooth, ’t is very well;
Indeed I love no sweetmeats.—[_Aside._] Sh ’as a breath 100
Stinks worse than fifty polecats.—Sir, a word,
Is she a lady?

_Lod._ A woman of a good house, and an ancient; she ’s a bawd.

_Cand._ A bawd? Sir, I ’ll steal hence, and see your lawns 105
Some other time.

_Mat._ Steal out of such company? Pacheco, my man, is but gone for
’em. Lieutenant Bots, drink to this worthy old fellow, and teach him
to fly high. 110

_All._ Swagger; and make him do ’t on his knees.

_Cand._ How, Bots? Now bless me, what do I with Bots?
No wine in sooth, no wine, good master Bots. 114

_Bots._ Gray-beard, goat’s pizzle, ’t is a health; have this in your
guts, or this, there [_touching his sword_]. I will sing a bawdy
song, sir, because your verjuice[2576] face is melancholy, to make
liquor go down glib. Will you fall on your marrowbones, and pledge
this health? ’T is to my mistress, a whore. 121

_Cand._ Here ’s ratsbane upon ratsbane, Master Bots.
I pray, sir, pardon me: you are a soldier,
Press me not to this service, I am old,
And shoot not in such pot-guns.[2577]

_Bots._ Cap, I ’ll teach you. 125

_Cand._ To drink healths, is to drink sickness.—Gentlemen,
Pray rescue me.

_Bots._ Zounds, who dare?

_All._ We shall ha’ stabbing then?

_Cand._ I ha’ reckonings to cast up, good Master Bots. 130

_Bots._ This will make you cast ’em up better.

_Lod._ Why does your hand shake so?

_Cand._ The palsy, signors, danceth in my blood.

_Bots._ Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or I ’ll make your blood dance—135

_Cand._ Hold, hold, good Master Bolts, I drink. [_Kneels._]

_All._ To whom?

_Cand._ To the old countess there. [_Drinks._]

_Mis. H._ To me, old boy? This is he that never drunk wine! Once
again to ’t. 140

_Cand._ With much ado the poison is got down,
Though I can scarce get up; never before
Drank I a whore’s health, nor will never more.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO _with lawns._

_Mat._ Hast been at gallows?

_Orl._ Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to-day. 146

_Mat._ Look, signor; here ’s the commodity.

_Cand._ Your price?

_Mat._ Thus.[2578]

_Cand._ No; too dear: thus. 150

_Mat._ No. O fie, you must fly higher. Yet take ’em home, trifles
shall not make us quarrel; we ’ll agree; you shall have them, and a
pennyworth. I ’ll fetch money at your shop. 154

_Cand._ Be it so, good signor, send me going.

_Mat._ Going? A deep bowl of wine for Signor Candido.

_Orl._ He would be going.

_Cand._ I ’ll rather stay than go so: stop your bowl.

_Enter_ Constable _and_ Billmen.

_Lod._ How now? 160

_Bots._ Is ’t Shrove-Tuesday, that these ghosts walk?[2579]

_Mat._ What ’s your business, sir?

_Const._ From the duke: you are the man we look for, signor. I have
warrant here from (165) the duke, to apprehend you upon felony for
robbing two pedlars. I charge you i’ th’ duke’s name, go quickly.

_Mat._ Is the wind turn’d? Well, this is that old wolf, my
father-in-law.—Seek out your mistress, sirrah. 171

_Orl._ Yes, Sir.—[_Aside._] As shafts by piecing are made strong,
So shall thy life be straight’ned by this wrong. _Exit._

_All._ In troth, we are sorry. 174

_Mat._ Brave men must be crost; pish, it ’s but Fortune’s dice
roving[2580] against me. Come, sir, pray use me like a gentleman; let
me not be carried through the streets like a pageant.

_Const._ If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them. 180

_All._ Be ’t so: come.

_Const._ What are you, sir?

_Bots._ I, sir? Sometimes a figure, sometimes a cipher, as the State
has occasion to cast up her accounts. I ’m a soldier. 185

_Const._ Your name is Bots, is ’t not?

_Bots._ Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company.

_Const._ I know you are, sir: what ’s she?

_Bots._ A gentlewoman, my mother. 190

_Const._ Take ’em both along.

_Bots._ Me, sir?

_Billmen._ [Ay,] sir!

_Const._ If he swagger, raise the street. 194

_Bots._ Gentlemen, gentlemen, whither will you drag us?

_Lod._ To the garden house. Bots, are we even with you?

_Const._ To Bridewell with ’em.

_Bots._ You will answer this. 200

_Const._ Better than a challenge. I have warrant for my work, sir.

_Lod._ We ’ll go before.

_Const._ Pray do.—
_Exeunt_ [MATHEO _with_ LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_
FONTINELL; BOTS _and_ Mistress HORSELEECH, _with_ Billmen.]
Who, Signor Candido? a citizen 205
Of your degree consorted thus, and revelling
In such a house?

_Cand._ Why, sir? what house, I pray?

_Const._ Lewd, and defam’d.

_Cand._ Is ’t so? thanks, sir: I ’m gone.

_Const._ What have you there?

_Cand._ Lawns which I bought, sir, of the gentleman 210
That keeps the house.

_Const._ And I have warrant here,
To search for such stol’n ware: these lawns are stol’n.

_Cand._ Indeed!

_Const._ So he ’s the thief, you the receiver: (213) I ’m sorry for
this chance, I must commit you.

_Cand._ Me, sir, for what?

_Const._ These goods are found upon you,
And you must answer ’t.

_Cand._ Must I so?

_Const._ Most certain.

_Cand._ I ’ll send for bail.

_Const._ I dare not: yet because
You are a citizen of worth, you shall not
Be made a pointing stock, but without guard,
Pass only with myself.

_Cand._ To Bridewell too? 220

_Const._ No remedy.

_Cand._ Yes, patience. Being not mad,
They had me once to Bedlam, now I ’m drawn
To Bridewell, loving no whores.

_Const._ You will buy lawn! _Exeunt._

[ACT V]

[SCENE I.][2581]

_Enter at one door_ HIPPOLITO; _at another_, LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ Yonder ’s the Lord Hippolito; by any means leave him and me
together. Now will I turn him to a madman.

_All._ Save you my lord.
_Exeunt_ [_all except_ HIPPOLITO _and_ LODOVICO].

_Lod._ I ha’ strange news to tell you. 5

_Hip._ What are they?

_Lod._ Your mare ’s i’ th’ pound.

_Hip._ How ’s this?

_Lod._ Your nightingale is in a limebush.

_Hip._ Ha? 10

_Lod._ Your puritanical honest whore sits in a blue gown.[2582]

_Hip._ Blue gown!

_Lod._ She ’ll chalk out your way to her now:
she beats chalk.[2583] 15

_Hip._ Where? who dares?—

_Lod._ Do you know the brick-house of castigation, by the river side
that runs by Milan,—the school where they pronounce no letter well
but O? 20

_Hip._ I know it not.

_Lod._ Any man that has borne office of constable or any woman that
has fallen from a horse-load to a cart-load,[2584] or like an old hen
that has had none but rotten eggs in her nest, (25) can direct you to
her; there you shall see your punk amongst her back-friends.[2585]
There you may have her at your will,
For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill,
With a whip deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle; 30
Ah, little monkey!

_Hip._ What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I loved her?

_Lod._ Some worshipful rascal, I lay my life.

_Hip._ I ’ll beat the lodgings down about their ears 35
That are her keepers.

_Lod._ So you may bring an old house over her head.

_Hip._ I ’ll to her—
I ’ll to her, stood armed fiends to guard the doors. _Exit._

_Lod._ Oh me! what monsters are men made by whores! 40
If this false fire do kindle him, there ’s one faggot
More to the bonfire. Now to my Bridewell birds;
What song will they sing? _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2586]

_Enter_ DUKE, INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and three or four_ Masters of Bridewell.

_Duke._ Your Bridewell? that the name? For beauty, strength,
Capacity and form of ancient building,
Besides the river’s neighbourhood, few houses
Wherein we keep our court can better it.

_1 Mast._ Hither from foreign courts have princes come, 5
And with our duke did acts of State commence.
Here that great cardinal had first audience,
The grave Campayne; that duke dead, his son
That famous prince, gave free possession
Of this, his palace, to the citizens, 10
To be the poor man’s ware-house; and endow’d it
With lands to th’ value of seven hundred mark,[2587]
With all the bedding and the furniture, once proper,
As the lands then were, to an hospital
Belonging to a Duke of Savoy. Thus 15
Fortune can toss the world; a prince’s court
Is thus a prison now.

_Duke._ ’Tis Fortune’s sport:
These changes common are: the wheel of fate
Turns kingdoms up, till they fall desolate.
But how are these seven hundred marks by th’ year 20
Employ’d in this your work-house?

_1 Mast._ War and peace
Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors
Of war burst open, from this house are sent
Men furnisht in all martial complement.
The moon hath through her bow scarce drawn to th’ head, 25
Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months,
Since sixteen hundred soldiers went aboard.
Here providence and charity play such parts,
The house is like a very school of arts;
For when our soldiers, like ships driven from sea, 30
With ribs all broken, and with tatter’d sides,
Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs
How often do we cover! that, like men,
They may be sent to their own homes again. 34
All here are but one swarm of bees, and strive
To bring with wearied thighs honey to the hive.
The sturdy beggar, and the lazy loon,[2588]
Gets here hard hands, or lac’d[2589] correction.
The vagabond grows staid and learns t’ obey,
The drone is beaten well, and sent away. 40
As other prisons are, some for the thief,
Some, by which undone credit gets relief
From bridled debtors; others for the poor,
So this is for the bawd, the rogue, the whore.

_Car._ An excellent team of horse!

_1 Mast._ Nor is it seen 45
That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen
Of any rugged bencher;[2590] nor does offence
Feel smart on spiteful or rash evidence;
But pregnant testimony forth must stand,
Ere justice leave them in the beadle’s hand. 50
As iron, on the anvil are they laid,
Not to take blows alone, but to be made
And fashion’d to some charitable use.

_Duke._ Thus wholsom’st laws spring from the worst abuse.

_Enter_ ORLANDO, [_disguised as a_ Serving-man,] _before_ BELLAFRONT.

_Bell._ Let mercy touch your heart-strings, gracious lord, 55
That it may sound like music in the ear
Of a man desperate, being i’ th’ hands of law.

_Duke._ His name?

_Bell._ Matheo.

_Duke._ For a robbery?
Where is he?

_Bell._ In this house.
_Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT _and one of the_ Masters of Bridewell.

_Duke._ Fetch you him hither—
Is this the party? 60

_Orl._ This is the hen, my lord, that the cock with the lordly comb,
your son-in-law, would crow over, and tread.

_Duke._ Are your two servants ready?

_Orl._ My two pedlars are pack’d together, my good lord. 65

_Duke._ ’T is well; this day in judgment shall be spent:
Vice, like a wound lanc’d, mends by punishment.

_Inf._ Let me be gone, my lord, or stand unseen;
’T is rare when a judge strikes and that none die,
And ’t is unfit then women should be by. 70

_1 Mast._ We’ll place you, lady, in some private room.

_Inf._ Pray do so.
_Exit_ [_with a_ Master, _who returns alone_].

_Orl._ Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes
Should view men carv’d up for anatomies,[2591]
Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen;
Many women sure will sin behind a screen. 76

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Your son, the Lord Hippolito, is ent’red.

_Duke._ Tell him we wish his presence. A word, Sforza;
On what wings flew he hither? 79

_Lod._ These:—I told him his lark whom he loved, was a
Bridewell-bird; he’s mad that this cage should hold her, and is
come to let her out.

_Duke._ ’T is excellent: away, go call him hither. _Exit_ LODOVICO. 85

_Re-enter one of the_ Governors _of the House_; BELLAFRONT _after him with_ MATHEO; _after him the_ Constable; _enter at another door_ LODOVICO _and_ HIPPOLITO. ORLANDO _steps forth and brings in two_ [_of his_ Servants _disguised as_] Pedlars.

_Duke._ You are to us a stranger, worthy lord;
’T is strange to see you here.

_Hip._ It is most fit
That where the sun goes, atomies[2592] follow it.

_Duke._ Atomies neither shape nor honour bear:
Be you yourself, a sunbeam to shine clear.— 90
Is this the gentleman? Stand forth and hear
Your accusation.

_Mat._ I’ll hear none; I fly high in that: rather than kites shall
seize upon me, and (94) pick out mine eyes to my face, I’ll strike
my talons through mine own heart first, and spit my blood in theirs.
I am here for shriving those two fools of their sinful pack. When
those jackdaws have caw’d over me, then must I cry (99) guilty, or
not guilty. The law has work enough already and therefore I’ll put
no work of mine into his hands; the hangman shall ha ’t first. I did
pluck those ganders, did rob them.

_Duke._ ’T is well done to confess. 104

_Mat._ Confess and be hanged, and then I fly high, is ’t not so?
That for that; a gallows is the worst rub[2593] that a good bowler
can meet with; I stumbled against such a post, else this night I
had play’d the part of a true son in (109) these days, undone my
father-in-law; with him would I ha’ run at leap-frog, and come
over his gold, though I had broke his neck for ’t: but the poor
salmon-trout is now in the net.

_Hip._ And now the law must teach you to fly high. 114

_Mat._ Right, my lord, and then may you fly low; no more words:—a
mouse, mum, you are stopp’d.

_Bell._ Be good to my poor husband, dear my lords.

_Mat._ Ass! 119
Why shouldst thou pray them to be good to me,
When no man here is good to one another?

_Duke._ Did any hand work in this theft but yours?

_Mat._ O yes, my lord, yes:—the hangman has never one son at a
birth, his children always come by couples. Though I cannot give 125
the old dog, my father, a bone to gnaw, the daughter shall be sure of
a choke-pear.—Yes, my lord, there was one more that fiddled my fine
pedlars, and that was my wife.

_Bell._ Alas, I? 130

_Orl._ [_Aside._] O everlasting, supernatural, superlative villain!

_All._ Your wife, Matheo?

_Hip._ Sure it cannot be. 134

_Mat._ Oh, sir, you love no quarters of mutton that hang up, you
love none but whole mutton. She set the robbery, I perform’d it; she
spurr’d me on, I gallop’d away.

_Orl._ My lords,—

_Bell._ My lords,—fellow, give me speech,—if my poor life 140
May ransom thine, I yield it to the law.
Thou hurt’st thy soul, yet wip’st off no offence,
By casting blots upon my innocence.
Let not these spare me, but tell truth; no, see
Who slips his neck out of the misery, 145
Though not out of the mischief. let thy servant
That shar’d in this base act accuse me here.
Why should my husband perish, he go clear?

_Orl._ [_Aside._] A good child, hang thine own father!

_Duke._ Old fellow, was thy hand in too? 150

_Orl._ My hand was in the pie, my lord, I confess it. My mistress,
I see, will bring me to the gallows, and so leave me; but I’ll not
leave her so: I had rather hang in a woman’s company, (154) than in
a man’s; because if we should go to hell together, I should scarce
be letten in, for all the devils are afraid to have any women come
amongst them. As I am true thief, she neither consented to this
felony, nor knew of it. 160

_Duke._ What fury prompts thee on to kill thy wife?

_Mat._ It is my humour, sir, ’t is a foolish bag-pipe that I make
myself merry with. Why should I eat hemp-seed at the hangman’s
thirteen-pence halfpenny[2594] ordinary, and have this whore laugh at
me, as I swing, as I totter? 166

_Duke._ Is she a whore?

_Mat._ A six-penny mutton pasty, for any to cut up.

_Orl._ Ah, toad, toad, toad. 169

_Mat._ A barber’s cittern[2595] for every serving-man to play upon;
that lord, your son, knows it.

_Hip._ I, sir? Am I her bawd then?

_Mat._ No, sir, but she’s your whore then.

_Orl._ [_Aside._] Yea, spider; dost catch at great flies?

_Hip._ My whore? 175

_Mat._ I cannot talk, sir, and tell of your rems and your rees and
your whirligigs and devices: but, my lord, I found ’em like sparrows
in one nest, billing together, and bulling of me. I took ’em in bed,
was ready to kill him, was up (180) to stab her—

_Hip._ Close thy rank jaws:—pardon me, I am vex’d.—
Thou art a villain, a malicious devil;
Deep as the place where thou art lost, thou liest.
Since I am thus far got into this storm, 185
I’ll through, and thou shalt see I’ll through untoucht.
When thou shalt perish in it.

_Re-enter_ INFELICE.

_Inf._ ’T is my cue
To enter now.—Room! let my prize[2596] be play’d;
I ha’ lurked in clouds, yet heard what all have said;
What jury more can prove sh’as wrong’d my bed, 190
Than her own husband? She must be punished.
I challenge law, my lord; letters and gold
And jewels from my lord that woman took.

_Hip._ Against that black-mouth’d devil, against letters and gold,
And against a jealous wife, I do uphold 195
Thus far her reputation; I could sooner
Shake th’ Appenine and crumble rocks to dust
Than, though Jove’s shower rain’d down, tempt
her to lust.

_Bell._ What shall I say?

_Orl._ (_discovers himself._) Say thou art not a (200) whore, and
that’s more than fifteen women amongst five hundred dare swear
without lying, this shalt thou say—no, let me say’t for thee;—thy
husband’s a knave, this lord’s an honest man; thou art no punk, this
lady’s a right (205) lady. Pacheco is a thief as his master is, but
old Orlando is as true a man as thy father is. I ha’ seen you fly
high, sir, and I ha’ seen you fly low, sir, and to keep you from the
gallows, sir, a blue coat have I worn, and a thief did I turn. 210
Mine own men are the pedlars, my twenty pounds did fly high, sir,
your wife’s gown did fly low, sir: whither fly you now, sir? You ha’
scap’d the gallows, to the devil you fly next, sir. Am I right, my
liege? 215

_Duke._ Your father has the true physician play’d.

_Mat._ And I am now his patient.

_Hip._ And be so still;
’Tis a good sign when our cheeks blush at ill.

_Const._ The linen-draper, Signor Candido,
He whom the city terms the patient man, 220
Is likewise here for buying of those lawns
The pedlars lost.

_Inf._ Alas, good Candido!

_Duke._ Fetch him; and when these payments up are cast,
_Exit_ Constable.
Weigh out your light gold, but let’s have them last.

_Enter_ CANDIDO _and_ Constable, [_who presently goes out._]

_Duke._ In Bridewell, Candido?

_Cand._ Yes, my good lord. 225

_Duke._ What make you here?

_Cand._ My lord, what make you here?

_Duke._ I’m here to save right, and to drive wrong hence.

_Cand._ And I to bear wrong here with patience.

_Duke._ You ha’ bought stol’n goods.

_Cand._ So they do say, my lord.
Yet bought I them upon a gentleman’s word.
And I imagine now, as I thought then, 231
That there be thieves, but no thieves, gentlemen.

_Hip._ Your credit’s crack’d, being here.

_Cand._ No more than gold,
Being crack’d, which does his estimation hold.
I was in Bedlam once, but was I mad? 235
They made me pledge whores’ healths, but am I bad
Because I’m with bad people?

_Duke._ Well, stand by;
If you take wrong, we’ll cure the injury.

_Re-enter_ Constable, _after him_ BOTS, _after them two_ Beadles, _one with hemp, the other with a beetle_.[2597]

_Duke._ Stay, stay, what ’s he? A prisoner?

_Const._ Yes, my lord. 240

_Hip._ He seems a soldier?

_Bots._ I am what I seem, sir, one of fortune’s bastards, a soldier
and a gentleman, and am brought in here with master constable’s band
of billmen, because they face me down that I (245) live, like those
that keep bowling alleys, by the sins of the people, in being a
squire of the body.

_Hip._ Oh, an apple-squire.[2598]

_Bots._ Yes, sir, that degree of scurvy squires; and that I am
maintained by the best part (250) that is commonly in a woman, by the
worst players of those parts; but I am known to all this company.

_Lod._ My lord, ’t is true, we all know him; ’t is lieutenant Bots. 255

_Duke._ Bots, and where ha’ you served, Bots?

_Bots._ In most of your hottest services in the Low-countries: at the
Groyne I was wounded in this thigh, and halted upon ’t, but ’t is now
sound. In Cleveland I mist but little, having the bridge of my nose
broken down with (261) two great, stones, as I was scaling a fort. I
ha’ been tried, sir, too, in Gelderland, and scap’d hardly there from
being blown up at a breach: I was fired, and lay i’ th’ surgeon’s
hands (265) for ’t, till the fall of the leaf following.

_Hip._ All this may be, and yet you no soldier.

_Bots._ No soldier, sir? I hope these are services that your proudest
commanders do venture upon, and never come off sometimes. 270

_Duke._ Well, sir, because you say you are a soldier,
I’ll use you like a gentleman.—Make room there,
Plant him amongst you; we shall have anon
Strange hawks fly here before us. If none light
On you, you shall with freedom take your flight;
But if you prove a bird of baser wing, 276
We’ll use you like such birds, here you shall sing.

_Bots._ I wish to be tried at no other weapon.

_Duke._ Why, is he furnisht with those implements?

_1 Master._ The pander is more dangerous to a State 280
Than is the common thief; and though our laws
Lie heavier on the thief, yet that the pander
May know the hangman’s ruff should fit him too,
Therefore he’s set to beat hemp.

_Duke._ This does savour
Of justice; basest slaves to basest labour. 285
Now pray, set open hell, and let us see
The she-devils that are here.

_Inf._ Methinks this place
Should make e’en Lais honest.

_1 Mast._ Some it turns good,
But as some men, whose hands are once in blood,
Do in a pride spill more, so, some going hence
Are, by being here, lost in more impudence. 291
Let it not to them, when they come, appear
That any one does as their judge sit here;
But that as gentlemen you come to see.
And then perhaps their tongues will walk more free. 295

_Duke._ Let them be marshall’d in.— [_Exeunt_
Masters, Constable, _and_ Beadles.]—Be cover’d all,
Fellows, now to make the scene more comical.

_Car._ Will not you be smelt out, Bots?

_Bots._ No, your bravest whores have the worst noses.

_Re-enter two of the_ Masters; _a_ Constable _after them, then_ DOROTHEA TARGET, _brave_;[2599] _after her two_ Beadles, _th’ one with a wheel, the other with a blue gown_.

_Lod._ Are not you a bride, forsooth? 300

_Dor._ Say ye?

_Car._ He would know if these be not your bridemen.

_Dor._ Vuh! yes, sir: and look ye, do you see? the bride-laces that I
give at my wedding, will serve to tie rosemary to both your coffins
when you come from hanging—Scab! 306

_Orl._ Fie, punk, fie, fie, fie!

_Dor._ Out, you stale, stinking head of garlic, foh, at my heels.

_Orl._ My head’s cloven. 310

_Hip._ O, let the gentlewoman alone, she’s going to shrift.

_Ast._ Nay, to do penance.

_Car._ Ay, ay, go, punk, go to the cross and be whipt. 315

_Dor._ Marry mew, marry muff,[2600] marry, hang you, goodman dog.
Whipt? do ye take me for a base, spital-whore? In troth, gentlemen,
you wear the clothes of gentlemen, but you carry not the minds of
gentlemen, to abuse (320) a gentlewoman of my fashion.

_Lod._ Fashion? Pox a’ your fashions! Art not a whore?

_Dor._ Goodman slave.

_Duke._ O fie, abuse her not, let us two talk,
What mought I call your name, pray? 326

_Dor._ I’m not ashamed of my name, sir; my name is Mistress Doll
Target, a Western gentlewoman. 329

_Lod._ Her target against any pike in Milan.

_Duke._ Why is this wheel borne after her?

_1 Mast._ She must spin.

_Dor._ A coarse thread it shall be, as all threads are.

_Ast._ If you spin, then you’ll earn money here too? 334

_Dor._ I had rather get half-a-crown abroad, than ten crowns here.

_Orl._ Abroad? I think so.

_Inf._ Dost thou not weep now thou art here?

_Dor._ Say ye? weep? Yes, forsooth, as you did when you lost your
maidenhead. Do you (340) not hear how I weep? _Sings._

_Lod._ Farewell, Doll.

_Dor._ Farewell, dog. _Exit._

_Duke._ Past shame: past penitence! Why is that blue gown? 345

_1 Mast._ Being stript out of her wanton loose attire,
That garment she puts on, base to the eye,
Only to clothe her in humility.

_Duke._ Are all the rest like this?

_1 Mast._ No, my good lord,
You see, this drab swells with a wanton rein, 350
The next that enters has a different strain.

_Duke._ Variety is good, let’s see the rest. _Exit_ 1 Master.

_Bots._ Your grace sees I’m sound yet, and no bullets hit me.

_Duke._ Come off so, and ’t is well.

_All._ Here’s the second mess. 356

_Re-enter the two_ Masters, _after them_ Constable, _after him_ PENELOPE WHOREHOUND, _like a_ Citizen’s Wife; _after her two_ Beadles, _one with a blue gown, another with chalk and a mallet_.

_Pen._ I ha’ worn many a costly gown, but I was never thus
guarded[2601] with blue coats, and beadles, and constables, and—

_Car._ Alas, fair mistress, spoil not thus your eyes. 360

_Pen._ Oh, sweet sir, I feel the spoiling of other places about me
that are dearer than my eyes; if you be gentlemen, if you be men, or
ever came of a woman, pity my case! Stand to me, stick to me, good
sir, you are an old man. 365

_Orl._ Hang not on me, I prithee; old trees bear no such fruit.

_Pen._ Will you bail me, gentlemen?

_Lod._ Bail thee? Art in for debt? 369

_Pen._ No; God is my judge, sir, I am in for no debts; I paid my
tailor for this gown, the last five shillings a-week that was behind,
yesterday.

_Duke._ What is your name. I pray?

_Pen._ Penelope Whorehound, I come of the Whorehounds. How does
lieutenant Bots? 375

_All._ Aha, Bots?

_Bots._ A very honest woman, as I’m a soldier—a pox Bots ye.

_Pen._ I was never in this pickle before; and yet if I go amongst
citizens’ wives, they (380) jeer at me; if I go among the
loose-bodied gowns,[2602] they cry a pox on me, because I go civilly
attired, and swear their trade was a good trade, till such as I am
took it out of their (384) hands. Good lieutenant Bots, speak to
these captains to bail me.

_1 Mast._ Begging for bail still? You are a trim gossip. Go give her
the blue gown, set her to her chare. Work,[2603] huswife, for your
bread, away. 390

_Pen._ Out, you dog!—a pox on you all!—women are born to curse
thee—but I shall live to see twenty such flat-caps shaking dice for
a penny-worth of pippins. Out, you blue-eyed rogue! _Exit._ 395

_All._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Duke._ Even now she wept, and pray’d; now does she curse?

_1 Mast._ Seeing me; if still she had stay’d, this had been worse. 400

_Hip._ Was she ever here before?

_1 Mast._ Five times at least,
And thus, if men come to her, have her eyes
Wrung, and wept out her bail.

_All._ Bots, you know her?

_Bots._ Is there any gentleman here, that knows not a whore, and is
he a hair the worse for that? 406

_Duke._ Is she a city-dame? She’s so attired.

_1 Mast._ No, my good lord, that’s only but the veil
To her loose body. I have seen her here
In gayer masking suits; as several sauces 410
Give one dish several tastes, so change of habits
In whores is a bewitching art: to-day
She’s all in colours to besot gallants, then
In modest black, to catch the citizen,
And this from their examination’s drawn. 415
Now shall you see a monster both in shape
And nature quite from these, that sheds no tear
Nor yet is nice, ’tis a plain ramping bear;
Many such whales are cast upon this shore. 419

_All._ Let’s see her.

_1 Mast._ Then behold a swaggering whore.
_Exeunt_ [Masters _and_ Constable].

_Orl._ Keep your ground, Bots.

_Bots._ I do but traverse to spy advantage how to arm myself.

_Re-enter the two_ Masters _first_; _after them the_ Constable; _after them a_ Beadle _beating a basin_,[2604] _then_ CATHERINA BOUNTINALL, _with_ Mistress HORSELEECH; _after them another_ Beadle _with a blue head guarded[2605] with yellow_.

_Cat._ Sirrah, when I cry, hold your hands, hold, you rogue-catcher,
hold.—Bawd, are (425) the French chilblains in your heels, that you
can come no faster? Are not you, bawd, a whore’s ancient,[2606] and
must not I follow my colours?

_Mis. H._ O Mistress Catherine, you do me wrong to accuse me here as
you do, before (430) the right worshipful. I am known for a motherly,
honest woman, and no bawd.

_Cat._ Marry foh, honest? Burnt[2607] at fourteen, seven times whipt,
six times carted, nine times duck’d, search’d by some hundred and
(435) fifty constables, and yet you are honest? Honest Mistress
Horseleech, is this world a world to keep bawds and whores honest?
How many times hast thou given gentlemen a quart of wine in a gallon
pot? How many twelve-penny fees, nay two shillings fees, nay, when
any (441) ambassadors ha’ been here, how many half-crown fees hast
thou taken? How many carriers hast thou bribed for country wenches?
How often have I rinst your lungs in _aqua vitae_, and yet you are
honest? 446

_Duke._ And what were you the whilst?

_Cat._ Marry hang you, master slave, who made you an examiner?

_Lod._ Well said! belike this devil spares no man. 451

_Cat._ What art thou, prithee? [_To_ BOTS.]

_Bots._ Nay, what art thou, prithee?

_Cat._ A whore, art thou a thief? 454

_Bots._ A thief, no, I defy[2608] the calling; I am a soldier, have
borne arms in the field, been in many a hot skirmish, yet come off
sound.

_Cat._ Sound, with a pox to ye, ye abominable rogue! You a soldier?
You in skirmishes? (459) Where? Amongst pottle pots in a bawdy-house?
Look, look here, you Madam Worm-eaten, do you not know him?

_Mis. H._ Lieutenant Bots, where have ye been this many a day?

_Bots._ Old bawd, do not discredit me, seem not to know me. 465

_Mis. H._ Not to know ye, Master Bots? As long as I have breath, I
cannot forget thy sweet face.

_Duke._ Why, do you know him? He says he is a soldier. 471

_Cat._ He a soldier? A pander, a dog that will lick up sixpence. Do
ye hear, you master swines’-snout, how long is’t since you held the
door for me, and cried, “To ’t again, no (475) body comes!” Ye rogue,
you?

_All._ Ha, ha, ha! y’ are smelt out again, Bots.

_Bots._ Pox ruin her nose for ’t! An I be not revenged for this—um,
ye bitch!

_Lod._ D’ ye hear ye, madam? Why does your ladyship swagger thus?
You’re very brave, (481) methinks.

_Cat._ Not at your cost, master cod’s-head;
Is any man here blear-eyed to see me brave?

_Ast._ Yes. I am. 485
Because good clothes upon a whore’s back
Is like fair painting upon a rotten wall.

_Cat._ Marry muff, master whoremaster, you come upon me with
sentences.

_Ber._ By this light, has small sense for’t. 490

_Lod._ O fie, fie, do not vex her! And yet methinks a creature of
more scurvy conditions should not know what a good petticoat were.

_Cat._ Marry, come out; you’re so busy (494) about my petticoat,
you’ll creep up to my placket, an ye could but attain the honour: but
an the outsides offend your rogue-ships, look o’ the lining, ’tis
silk.

_Duke._ Is’t silk ’tis lined with, then? 499

_Cat._ Silk? Ay, silk, master slave, you would be glad to wipe your
nose with the skirt on’t. This ’tis to come among a company of
cod’s-heads[2609] that know not how to use a gentlewoman.

_Duke._ Tell her the duke is here. 505

_1 Mast._ Be modest, Kate, the duke is here.

_Cat._ If the devil were here, I care not. Set forward, ye rogues,
and give attendance according to your places! Let bawds and whores 509
be sad, for I’ll sing an the devil were a-dying.
_Exit_ [_with_ Mistress HORSELEECH _and_ Beadles].

_Duke._ Why before her does the basin ring?

_1 Mast._ It is an emblem of their revelling.
The whips we use let forth their wanton blood,
Making them calm; and, more to calm their pride,
Instead of coaches they in carts do ride. 515
Will your grace see more of this bad ware?

_Duke._ No, shut up shop, we’ll now break up the fair.
Yet ere we part—you, sir, that take upon ye
The name of soldier, that true name of worth,
Which, action, not vain boasting, best sets forth,
To let you know how far a soldier’s name 521
Stands from your title, and to let you see
Soldiers must not be wrong’d where princes be;
This be your sentence:—

_All._ Defend yourself, Bots. 525

_Duke._ First, all the private sufferance that the house
Inflicts upon offenders, you, as the basest,
Shall undergo it double, after which
You shall be whipt, sir, round about the city,
Then banisht from the land. 530

_Bots._ Beseech, your grace!

_Duke._ Away with him, see it done. Panders and whores
Are city-plagues, which, being kept alive,
Nothing that looks like goodness ere can thrive.
Now good Orlando, what say you to your bad son-in-law? 535

_Orl._ Marry this, my lord, he is my son-in-law, and in law will I be
his father: for if law can pepper him, he shall be so parboil’d, that
he shall stink no more i’ th’ nose of the commonwealth. 540

_Bell._ Be yet more kind and merciful, good father.

_Orl._ Dost thou beg for him, thou precious man’s meat, thou? Has he
not beaten thee, kickt thee, trod on thee, and dost thou fawn 544
on him like his spaniel? Has he not pawn’d thee to thy petticoat,
sold thee to thy smock, made ye leap at a crust, yet wouldst, have me
save him?

_Bell._ Oh yes, good sir, women shall learn of me,
To love their husbands in greatest misery; 550
Then show him pity, or you wrack myself.

[_Orl._] Have ye eaten pigeons, that you’re so kindhearted to your
mate? Nay, you’re a couple of wild bears, I’ll have ye both baited
at one stake: but as for this knave, the gallows (555) is thy due,
and the gallows thou shalt have. I’ll have justice of the duke, the
law shall have thy life.—What, dost thou hold him? Let go his hand.
If thou dost not forsake him, a (559) father’s everlasting blessing
fall upon both your heads! Away, go, kiss out of my sight, play thou
the whore no more, nor thou the thief again; my house shall be thine,
my meat shall be thine, and so shall my wine, but my money shall be
mine, and yet when I die, so thou dost not fly high, take all; 566
Yet, good Matheo, mend.
Thus for joy weeps Orlando, and doth end.

_Duke._ Then hear, Matheo: all your woes are stayed
By your good father-in-law: all your ills 570
Are clear purg’d from you by his working pills.—
Come, Signor Candido, these green young wits,
We see by circumstance, this plot have laid
Still to provoke thy patience, which they find
A wall of brass; no armour’s like the mind. 575
Thou hast taught the city patience, now our court
Shall be thy sphere, where from thy good report,
Rumours this truth unto the world shall sing,
A patient man’s a pattern for a king. _Exeunt._

THE MALCONTENT

BY JOHN MARSTON

BENIAMINO JONSONIO, POETAE ELEGANTISSIMO, GRAVISSIMO, AMICO SVO, CANDIDO ET CORDATO, IOHANNES MARSTON, MVSARVM ALVMNVS, ASPERAM HANC SVAM THALIAM D.D.

[Members of the Company of His Majesty’s Servants appearing in the
INDUCTION

W. SLY. D. BURBADGE. J. LOWIN.
SINKLO. H. CONDELL. A Tire-man.]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

GIOVANNI ALTOFRONTO, disguised as MALEVOLE, sometime Duke of Genoa.
PIETRO JACOMO, Duke of Genoa.
MENDOZA, a minion to the Duchess of Pietro Jacomo.
CELSO, a friend to Altofronto.
BILIOSO, an old choleric marshal.
PREPASSO, a gentleman-usher.
FERNEZE, a young courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess.
FERRARDO, a minion to Duke Pietro Jacomo.
EQUATO, }
GUERRINO, } two courtiers.
PASSARELLO, fool to Biliosa.

AURELIA, Duchess to Duke Pietro Jacomo.
MARIA, Duchess to Duke Altofronto.
EMILIA, }
BIANCA, } two ladies attending on Aurelia.
MAQUERELLE, an old panderess.

[THE SCENE.—_Genoa._]

TO THE READER

I am an ill orator; and, in truth, use to indite more honestly than eloquently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I speak.

In plainness, therefore, understand that in some things I have willingly erred, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names different from that city’s families: for which some may wittily accuse me: but my defence shall be as honest as many reproofs unto me have been most malicious; since, I heartily protest, it was my care to write so far from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I laid my scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or living. Yet, in despite of my endeavours, I understand some have been most unadvisedly over-cunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtlety as deep as hell have maliciously spread ill rumours, which, springing from themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I desire to satisfy every firm spirit, who, in all his actions, proposeth to himself no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are always simple: to such I protest that, with my free understanding, I have not glanced at disgrace of any, but of those whose unquiet studies labour innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend, comely superiority, and establisht unity: for the rest of my supposed tartness, I fear not but unto every worthy mind it will be approved so general and honest as may modestly pass with the freedom of a satire. I would fain leave the paper; only one thing afflicts me, to think that scenes, invented merely to be spoken, should be enforcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive is to do myself the wrong. But, since others otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. I have myself, therefore, set forth this comedy; but so, that my enforced absence must much rely upon the printer’s discretion: but I shall entreat slight errors in orthography may be as slightly over-passed, and that the unhandsome shape which this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned for the pleasure it once afforded you when it was presented with the soul of lively action.

_Sine aliqua dementia nullus Phoebus._[2610]

[THE INDUCTION[2611]

TO

THE MALCONTENT, AND THE ADDITIONS[2612] ACTED BY THE KING’S MAJESTY’S SERVANTS.

WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER

_Enter_ W. SLY, _a_ Tire-man _following him with a stool._

_Tire-man._ Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit here.

_Sly._ Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private house. Thou dost
not take me for a country gentleman, dost? Dost think I fear 5
hissing? I’ll hold my life thou tookest me for one of the players.

_Tire-man._ No, sir.

_Sly._ By God’s slid,[2613] if you had, I would have given you
but sixpence for your stool. Let (10) them that have stale suits
sit in the galleries. Hiss at me! He that will be laught out of a
tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed well, or be drunk in good
company.—Where’s Harry Condell, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly? 15
Let me speak with some of them.

_Tire-man._ An’t please you to go in, sir, you may.

_Sly._ I tell you, no: I am one that hath seen this play often, and
can give them intelligence (20) for their action. I have most of the
jests here in my table-book.[2614]

_Enter_ SINKLO.

_Sinklo._ Save you coz!

_Sly._ O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs here. 25

_Sinklo._ No, indeed, cousin: the audience then will take me for a
viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me.

_Sly._ Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz.

_Sinklo._ We stayed for you at supper last (30) night at my cousin
Honeymoon’s, the woollen-draper. After supper we drew cuts for a
score of apricocks, the longest cut still to draw an apricock: by
this light, ’t was Mistress Frank Honeymoon’s fortune still to have
the longest (35) cut: I did measure for the women.—What be these,
coz?

_Enter_ D. BURBADGE, H. CONDELL, _and_ J. LOWIN.

_Sly._ The players.—God save you!

_Burbadge._ You are very welcome.

_Sly._ I pray you, know this gentleman, my (40) cousin; ’t is Master
Doomsday’s son, the usurer.

_Condell._ I beseech you, sir, be cover’d.

_Sly._ No, in good faith, for mine ease. Look you, my hat’s the
handle to this fan. God’s (45) so, what a beast was I, I did not
leave my feather at home! Well, but I’ll take an order with you.
_Puts his feather in his pocket._

_Burbadge._ Why do you conceal your feather, sir? 50

_Sly._ Why, do you think I’ll have jests broken upon me in the
play, to be laught at? This play hath beaten all your gallants out
of the feathers. Blackfriars hath almost spoiled Blackfriars for
feathers.[2615] 55

_Sinklo._ God’s so, I thought ’t was for somewhat our gentlewomen at
home counsell’d me to wear my feather to the play: yet I am loth to
spoil it.

_Sly._ Why, coz? 60

_Sinklo._ Because I got it in the tilt-yard; there was a herald broke
my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up and down the Strand,
and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it. 65

_Sly._ Do you hear, sir? this play is a bitter play.

_Condell._ Why, sir, ’t is neither satire nor moral, but the mean
passage of a history: yet there are a sort of discontented creatures
that (70) bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest
the doings of any man to their base, malicious applyment;[2616] but
should their interpretation come to the test, like your marmoset,
they presently turn their teeth to their tail (75) and eat it.