Chapter XVIII: Act I: Scene I

_A Chamber in the Palace of the Duke of Ferrara._

_Enter the_ DUKE, PRODITOR, LUSSURIOSO, INFESTO, _and
other nobles, with attendants_.

DUKE. My lords,
Know that we, far from any natural pride,
Or touch of temporal sway, have seen our face
In our grave council’s foreheads, where doth stand
Our truest glass, made by Time’s wrinkled hand.
We know we’re old; my days proclaim me so;
Forty-five years I’ve gently rul’d this dukedom;
Pray heaven it be no fault!
For there’s as much disease, though not to th’ eye,
In too much pity as in tyranny.
INFES. Your grace hath spoke it right.
DUKE. I know that life
Has not long course in me; ’twill not be long
Before I shew that kings have mortal bodies
As well as subjects: therefore to my comfort,
And your successful hopes, I have a son,
Whom I dare boast of——
LUS. Whom we all do boast of;
A prince elder in virtues than in years.
INFES. His judgment is a father to his youth.
PROD. Ay, ay, would he were from court! [_Aside._
INFES. Our largest hopes grow in him.
PROD. And ’tis the greatest pity, noble lord,
He is untravell’d.
LUS. ’Tis indeed, my lord.
PROD. Had he but travel to his time and virtue—
O, he should ne’er return again! [_Aside._
DUKE. It shall be so: what is in hope begun,[793]
Experience quickens; travel confirms the man,
Who[794] else lives doubtful, and his days oft sorry:
Who’s rich in knowledge has the stock of glory.
PROD. Most true, my royal lord.
DUKE. Some one attend our son.
INFES. See, here he comes, my lord.

_Enter_ PHŒNIX, _attended by_ FIDELIO.

DUKE. O, you come well.
PHŒ. ’Tis always my desire, my worthy father.
DUKE. Your serious studies, and those fruitful hours
That grow up into judgment, well become
Your birth, and all our loves: I weep that you are my
son,
But virtuously I weep, the more my gladness.
We have thought good and meet, by the consent
Of these our nobles, to move you toward travel,
The better to approve you to yourself,
And give your apter power foundation:
To see affections actually presented,
E’en by those men that owe[795] them, yield[s] more
profit,
Ay, more content, than singly to read of them,
Since love or fear make writers partial.
The good and free example which you find
In other countries, match it with your own,
The ill to shame the ill; which will in time
Fully instruct you how to set in frame
A kingdom all in pieces.
PHŒ. Honour’d father,
With care and duty I have listen’d to you.
What you desire, in me it is obedience:
I do obey in all, knowing for right,
Experience is a kingdom’s better sight.
PROD. O, ’tis the very lustre of a prince,
Travel! ’tis sweet and generous.
DUKE. He that knows how to obey, knows how to reign;
And that true knowledge have we found in you.
Make choice of your attendants.
PHŒ. They’re soon chose;
Only this man, my lord, a loving servant of mine.
DUKE. What! none but he?
PHŒ. I do intreat no more;
For that’s the benefit a private gentleman
Enjoys beyond our state, when he notes all,
Himself unnoted.
For, should I bear the fashion of a prince,
I should then win more flattery than profit,
And I should give ’em time and warning then
To hide their actions from me: if I appear a sun,
They’ll run into the shade with their ill deeds,
And so prevent[796] me.
PROD. A little too wise,[797] a little too wise to
live long. [_Aside._
DUKE. You have answer’d us with wisdom: let it be;
Things private are best known through privacy.
[_Exeunt all but_ PHŒNIX _and_ FIDELIO.
PHŒ. Stay you, my elected servant.
FID. My kind lord.
PHŒ. The duke my father has a heavy burden
Of years upon him.
FID. My lord, it seems so, for they make him stoop.
PHŒ. Without dissemblance he is deep in age;
He bows unto his grave. I wonder much
Which of his wild nobility it should be
(For none of his sad[798] council has a voice in’t),
Should so far travel into his consent,
To set me over into other kingdoms,
Upon the stroke and minute of his death?
FID. My lord, ’tis easier to suspect them all,
Than truly to name one.
PHŒ. Since it is thus,
By absence I’ll obey the duke my father,
And yet not wrong myself.
FID. Therein, my lord,
You might be happy twice.
PHŒ. So it shall be;
I’ll stay at home, and travel.
FID. Would your grace
Could make that good!
PHŒ. I can: and, indeed, a prince need no[t] travel
farther than his own kingdom, if he apply himself
faithfully, worthy the glory of himself and expectation
of others: and it would appear far nobler industry in
him to reform those fashions that are already in his
country, than to bring new ones in, which have neither
true form nor fashion; to make his court an owl, city an
ape, and the country a wolf preying upon the ridiculous
pride of either: and therefore I hold it a safer
stern,[799] upon this lucky advantage, since my father
is near his setting, and I upon the eastern hill to take
my rise, to look into the heart and bowels of this
dukedom, and, in disguise, mark all abuses ready for
reformation or punishment.
FID. Give me but leave unfeignedly to admire you,
Your wisdom is so spacious and so honest.
PHŒ. So much have the complaints and suits of men,
seven, nay, seventeen years neglected, still interposed
by coin and great enemies, prevailed with my pity, that
I cannot otherwise think but there are infectious
dealings in most offices, and foul mysteries throughout
all professions: and therefore I nothing doubt but to
find travel enough within myself, and experience, I
fear, too much: nor will I be curious[800] to fit my
body to the humblest form and bearing, so the labour may
be fruitful; for how can abuses that keep low, come to
the right view of a prince, unless his looks lie level
with them, which else will be longest hid from him?—he
shall be the last man sees ’em.

For oft between kings’ eyes and subjects’ crimes
Stands there a bar of bribes: the under office
Flatters him next above it, he the next,
And so of most, or many.
Every abuse will choose a brother:
’Tis through the world, this hand will rub the other.
FID. You have set down the world briefly, my lord.
PHŒ. But how am I assur’d of faith in thee?
Yet I durst trust thee.
FID. Let my soul be lost,
When it shall loose your secrets: nor will I
Only be a preserver of them, but,
If you so please, an assister.
PHŒ. It suffices:
That king stands sur’st who by his virtue rises
More than by birth or blood; that prince is rare,
Who strives in youth to save his age from care.
Let’s be prepar’d; away.
FID. I’ll follow your grace.— [_Exit_ PHŒNIX.
Thou wonder of all princes, president, and glory,
True Phœnix, made of an unusual strain!
Who labours to reform is fit to reign.
How can that king be safe that studies not
The profit of his people? See where comes
The best part of my heart, my love.

_Enter_ NIECE.[801]

NIECE. Sir, I am bound to find you: I heard newly
Of sudden travel which his grace intends,
And only but yourself to accompany him.
FID. You heard in that little beside the truth;
Yet not so sudden as to want those manners,
To leave you unregarded.
NIECE. I did not think so unfashionably of you.
How long is your return?
FID. ’Tis not yet come to me, scarce to my lord.
Unless the duke refer it to his pleasure;
But long I think it is not: the duke’s age,
If not his apt experience, will forbid it.
NIECE. His grace commands, I must not think amiss:
Farewell.
FID. Nay, stay, and take this comfort;
You shall hear often from us; I’ll direct
Where you shall surely know; and I desire you
Write me the truth, how my new father-in-law
The captain bears himself toward my mother;
For that marriage
Knew nothing of my mind, it never flourish’d
In any part of my affection.
NIECE. Methinks sh’as much disgrac’d herself.
FID. Nothing so,
If he be good, and will abide the touch;
A captain may marry a lady, if he can sail
Into her good will.
NIECE. Indeed that’s all.
FID. ’Tis all
In all; commend me to thy breast; farewell.
[_Exit_ NIECE.
So by my lord’s firm policy we may see,
To present view, what absent forms would be. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A Room in the_ CAPTAIN’s _House_..

_Enter the_ CAPTAIN _with soldiering fellows_.

FIRST SOL. There’s noble purchase,[802] captain.
SECOND SOL. Nay, admirable purchase.
THIRD SOL. Enough to make us proud for ever.
CAP. Hah?
FIRST SOL. Never was opportunity so gallant.
CAP. Why, you make me mad.
SECOND SOL. Three ships, not a poop less.
THIRD SOL. And every one so wealthily burdened, upon my
manhood.
CAP. Pox on’t, and now am I tied e’en as the devil would
ha’t.
FIRST SOL. Captain, of all men living, I would ha’ sworn
thou wouldst ne’er have married.
CAP. ’S foot, so would I myself, man; give me my due;
you know I ha’ sworn all heaven over and over?
FIRST SOL. That you have, i’faith.
CAP. Why, go to then.
FIRST SOL. Of a man that has tasted salt water to commit
such a fresh trick!
CAP. Why, ’tis abominable! I grant you, now I see’t.
FIRST SOL. Had there been fewer women——
SECOND SOL. And among those women fewer drabs——
THIRD SOL. And among those drabs fewer pleasing——
CAP. Then ’t had been something——
FIRST SOL. But when there are more women, more common,
pretty sweethearts, than ever any age could boast of——
CAP. And I to play the artificer and marry! to have my
wife dance at home, and my ship at sea, and both take in
salt water together! O lieutenant, thou’rt happy! thou
keepest a wench.
FIRST SOL. I hope I am happier than so, captain, for a’
my troth, she keeps me.
CAP. How? is there any such fortunate man breathing? and
I so miserable to live honest! I envy thee, lieutenant,
I envy thee, that thou art such a happy knave. Here’s my
hand among you; share it equally; I’ll to sea with you.
SECOND SOL. There spoke a noble captain!
CAP. Let’s hear from you; there will be news shortly.
FIRST SOL. Doubt it not, captain.
[_Exeunt all but_ CAPTAIN.
CAP. What lustful passion came aboard of me, that I
should marry? was I drunk? yet that cannot altogether
hold, for it was four a’ clock i’ th’ morning; had it
been five, I would ha’ sworn it. That a man is in danger
every minute to be cast away, without he have an
extraordinary pilot that can perform more than a man can
do! and to say truth too, when I’m abroad, what can I do
at home? no man living can reach so far: and what a
horrible thing ’twould be to have horns brought me at
sea, to look as if the devil were i’ th’ ship! and all
the great tempests would be thought of my raising! to be
the general curse of all merchants! and yet they likely
are as deep in as myself; and that’s a comfort. O, that
a captain should live to be married! nay, I that have
been such a gallant salt-thief, should yet live to be
married! What a fortunate elder brother is he, whose
father being a rammish ploughman, himself a perfumed
gentleman spending the labouring reek from his father’s
nostrils in tobacco, the sweat of his father’s body in
monthly physic for his pretty queasy[803] harlot! he
sows apace i’ th’ country; the tailor o’ertakes him i’
th’ city, so that oftentimes before the corn comes to
earing,[804] ’tis up to the ears in high collars, and so
at every harvest the reapers take pains for the mercers:
ha! why, this is stirring happiness indeed. Would my
father had held a plough so, and fed upon squeezed curds
and onions, that I might have bathed in sensuality! but
he was too ruttish himself to let me thrive under him;
consumed me before he got me; and that makes me so
wretched now to be shackled with a wife, and not greatly
rich neither.

_Enter_ CASTIZA.[805]

CAS. Captain, my husband.
CAP. ’S life, call me husband again, and I’ll play the
captain and beat you.
CAS. What has disturb’d you, sir, that you now look
So like an enemy upon me?
CAP. Go make a widower [of me], hang thyself!
How comes it that you are so opposite
To love and kindness? I deserve more respect,
But that you please to be forgetful of it.
CAS. For love to you, did I neglect my state,
Chide better fortunes from me,
Gave the world talk, laid all my friends at waste!
CAP. The more fool you: could you like none but me?
Could none but I supply you? I am sure
You were sued to by far worthier men,
Deeper in wealth and gentry.
What couldst thou see in me, to make thee doat
So on me? If I know I am a villain,
What a torment’s this! Why didst thou marry me?
You think, as most of your insatiate widows,
That captains can do wonders; when, alas,[806]
The name does often prove the better man!
CAS. That which you urge should rather give me cause
To repent than yourself.
CAP. Then to that end
I do it.[807]
CAS. What a miserable state
Am I led into!

_Enter Servant._[808]

CAP. How now, sir?
SERV. Count Proditor
Is now alighted.
CAP. What, my lord? I must
Make much of him; he’ll one day write me cuckold;
It is[809] good to make much of such a man:
E’en to my face he plies it hard,—I thank him.

_Enter_ PRODITOR.

What, my worthy lord?
PROD. I’ll come to you
In order, captain. [_Kisses_ CASTIZA.
CAP. O that’s in order!
A kiss is the gamut to pricksong.
PROD. Let me salute you, captain. [_Exit_ CASTIZA.
CAP. My dear
Esteemed count, I have a life for you.
PROD. Hear you the news?
CAP. What may it be, my lord?
PROD. My lord, the duke’s son, is upon his travel
To several kingdoms.
CAP. May it be possible, my lord,
And yet so little rumour’d?
PROD. Take’t of my truth;[810]
Nay, ’twas well manag’d; things are as they are handl’d:
But all my care is still, pray heaven he return
Safe, without danger, captain.
CAP. Why, is there any doubt
To be had of that, my lord?
PROD. Ay, by my faith, captain:
Princes have private enemies, and great.
Put case a man should grudge him for his virtues,
Or envy him for his wisdom; why, you know,
This makes him lie bare-breasted to his foe.
CAP. That’s full of certainty, my lord; but who
Be his attendants?
PROD. Thence, captain, comes the fear;
But singly[811] attended neither (my best gladness),
Only by your son-in-law, Fidelio.
CAP. Is it to be believed? I promise you, my lord, then
I begin to fear him myself; that fellow will undo him: I
durst undertake to corrupt him with twelvepence over and
above, and that’s a small matter; has a whorish
conscience; he’s an inseparable knave,[812] and I could
ne’er speak well of that fellow.
PROD. All we of the younger house, I can tell you, do
doubt him much. The lady’s removed: shall we have your
sweet society, captain?
CAP. Though it be in mine own house, I desire I may
follow your lordship.
PROD. I love to avoid strife.——
Not many months Phœnix shall keep his life.
[_Aside and exit._
CAP. So; his way is in; he knows it.
We must not be uncourteous to a lord;
Warn him our house ’twere vild.[813]
His presence is an honour: if he lie with our wives,
’tis for our credit; we shall be the better trusted;
’tis a sign we shall live i’ th’ world. O, tempests and
whirlwinds! who but that man whom the forefinger[814]
cannot daunt, that makes his shame his living—who but
that man, I say, could endure to be throughly married?
Nothing but a divorce can relieve me: any way to be rid
of her would rid my torment; if all means fail, I’ll
kill or poison her, and purge my fault at sea. But first
I’ll make gentle try of a divorce: but how shall I
accuse her subtle honesty? I’ll attach this lord’s
coming to her, take hold of that, ask counsel: and now I
remember, I have acquaintance with an old crafty client,
who, by the puzzle of suits and shifting of courts, has
more tricks and starting-holes than the dizzy pates of
fifteen attorneys; one that has been muzzled in law like
a bear, and led by the ring of his spectacles from
office to office.
Him I’ll seek out with haste; all paths I’ll tread,
All deaths I’ll die, ere I die married. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Another Room in the_ CAPTAIN’s _House_.

_Enter_ PRODITOR _and_ CASTIZA.

PROD. Pooh, you do resist me hardly.
CAS. I beseech your lordship, cease in this: ’tis never
to be granted. If you come as a friend unto my honour,
and my husband, you shall be ever welcome; if not, I
must entreat it——
PROD. Why, assure yourself, madam, ’tis not the fashion.
CAS. ’Tis more my grief, my lord; such as myself
Are judg’d the worse for such.
PROD. Faith, you’re too nice:
You’ll see me kindly forth?
CAS. And honourably welcome.[815] [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_A Room in an Inn._

_Enter Groom lighting in_ PHŒNIX _and_ FIDELIO.

GROOM. Gentlemen, you’re most neatly welcome.
PHŒ. You’re very cleanly, sir: prithee, have a care to
our geldings.
GROOM. Your geldings shall be well considered.
FID. Considered?
PHŒ. Sirrah, what guess[816] does this inn hold now?
GROOM. Some five and twenty gentlemen, besides their
beasts.
PHŒ. Their beasts?
GROOM. Their wenches, I mean, sir; for your worship
knows those that are under men are beasts.
PHŒ. How does your mother, sir?
GROOM. Very well in health, I thank you heartily, sir.
PHŒ. And so is my mare, i’faith.
GROOM. I’ll do her commendations indeed, sir.
FID. Well kept up, shuttlecock!
PHŒ. But what old fellow was he that newly alighted
before us?
GROOM. Who, he? as arrant a crafty fellow as e’er made
water on horseback. Some say, he’s as good as a lawyer;
marry, I’m sure he’s as bad as a knave: if you have any
suits in law, he’s the fittest man for your company; has
been so towed[817] and lugged himself, that he is able
to afford you more knavish counsel for ten groats than
another for ten shillings.
PHŒ. A fine fellow! but do you know him to be a knave,
and will lodge him?
GROOM. Your worship begins to talk idly; your bed shall
be made presently: if we should not lodge knaves, I
wonder how we should be able to live honestly: are there
honest men enough, think you, in a term-time to fill all
the inns in the town? and, as far as I can see, a
knave’s gelding eats no more hay than an honest man’s;
nay, a[818] thief’s gelding eats less, I’ll stand to’t;
his master allows him a better ordinary; yet I have my
eightpence day and night: ’twere more for our profit,
I wus,[819] you were all thieves, if you were so
contented. I shall be called for: give your worships
good morrow. [_Exit._
PHŒ. A royal knave, i’faith: we have happened into a
godly inn.
FID. Assure you, my lord, they belong all to one church.
PHŒ. This should be some old, busy, turbulent fellow:
[a] villanous law-worm, that eats holes into poor men’s
causes.

_Enter_ TANGLE _with two Suitors, and Groom_.

FIRST SUIT. May it please your worship to give me
leave?
TAN. I give you leave, sir; you have your _veniam_.—Now
fill me a brown toast, sirrah.
GROOM. Will you have no drink to’t, sir?
TAN. Is that a question in law?
GROOM. Yes, in the lowest court, i’ th’ cellar, sir.
TAN. Let me ha’t removed presently, sir.
GROOM. It shall be done, sir. [_Exit._
TAN. Now as you were saying, sir,—I’ll come to you
immediately too.
PHŒ. O, very well, sir.
TAN. I’m a little busy, sir.
FIRST SUIT. But as how, sir?
TAN. I pray, sir?
FIRST SUIT. Has brought me into the court; marry, my
adversary has not declared yet.
TAN. _Non declaravit adversarius_, sayest thou? what a
villain’s that! I have a trick to do thee good: I will
get thee out a proxy, and make him declare, with a pox
to him.
FIRST SUIT. That will make him declare to his sore
grief; I thank your good worship: but put case he do
declare?
TAN. _Si declarasset_, if he should declare there——
FIRST SUIT. I would be loath to stand out to the
judgment of that court.
TAN. _Non ad judicium_, do you fear corruption? then
I’ll relieve you again; you shall get a _supersedeas non
molestandum_, and remove it higher.
FIRST SUIT. Very good.
TAN. Now if it should ever come to a _testificandum_,
what be his witnesses?
FIRST SUIT. I little fear his witnesses.
TAN. _Non metuis testes?_ more valiant man than Orestes.
FIRST SUIT. Please you, sir, to dissolve this into wine,
ale, or beer. [_Giving money._] I come a hundred mile to
you, I protest, and leave all other counsel behind me.
TAN. Nay, you shall always find me a sound card: I stood
not a’ th’ pillory for nothing in 88; all the world
knows that.—Now let me despatch you, sir.—I come to you
_presenter_.
SECOND SUIT. Faith, the party hath removed both body and
cause with a _habeas corpus_.
TAN. Has he that knavery? but has he put in bail above,
canst tell?
SECOND SUIT. That I can assure your worship he has not.
TAN. Why, then, thy best course shall be, to lay out
more money, take out a _procedendo_, and bring down the
cause and him with a vengeance.
SECOND SUIT. Then he will come indeed.
TAN. As for the other party, let the _audita querela_
alone; take me out a special _supplicavit_, which will
cost you enough, and then you pepper him. For the first
party after the _procedendo_ you’ll get costs; the cause
being found, you’ll have a judgment; _nunc pro tunc_,
you’ll get a _venire facias_ to warn your jury, a _decem
tales_ to fill up the number, and a _capias utlagatum_
for your execution.
SECOND SUIT. I thank you, my learned counsel.
PHŒ. What a busy caterpillar’s this! let’s accost him in
that manner.
FID. Content, my lord.
PHŒ. O my old admirable fellow, how have I all this
while thirsted to salute thee! I knew thee in _octavo_
of the duke——
TAN. In _octavo_ of the duke? I remember the year well.
PHŒ. By th’ mass, a lusty, proper[820] man!
TAN. O, was I?
PHŒ. But still in law.
TANG. Still in law? I had not breathed else now; ’tis
very marrow, very manna to me to be in law; I’d been
dead ere this else. I have found such sweet pleasure in
the vexation of others, that I could wish my years over
and over again, to see that fellow a beggar, that
bawling knave a gentleman, a matter brought e’en to a
judgment to-day, as far as e’er ’twas to begin again to-
morrow: O raptures! here a writ of demur, there a
_procedendo_, here a _sursurrara_,[821] there a
_capiendo_, tricks, delays, money-laws!
PHŒ. Is it possible, old lad?
TAN. I have been a term-trotter[822] myself any time
this five and forty years; a goodly time and a gracious:
in which space I ha’ been at least sixteen times
beggared, and got up again; and in the mire again, that
I have stunk again, and yet got up again.
PHŒ. And so clean and handsome now?
TAN. You see it apparently; I cannot hide it from you:
nay, more, in _felici hora_ be it spoken, you see I’m
old, yet have I at this present nine and twenty suits in
law.
PHŒ. Deliver us, man!
TAN. And all not worth forty shillings.
PHŒ. May it be believed?
TAN. The pleasure of a man is all.
PHŒ. An old fellow, and such a stinger!
TAN. A stake pulled out of my hedge, there’s one; I was
well beaten, I remember, that’s two; I took one a-bed
with my wife again[823] her will, that’s three; I was
called cuckold for my labour, that’s four; I took
another a-bed again, that’s five; then one called me
wittol,[824] that’s six; he killed my dog for barking,
seven; my maid-servant was knocked at that time, eight;
my wife miscarried with a push, nine; _et sic de
cæteris_. I have so vexed and beggared the whole parish
with process, subpœnas, and such-like molestations, they
are not able to spare so much ready money from a term,
as would set up a new weathercock; the churchwardens are
fain to go to law with the poors’ money.
PHŒ. Fie, fie!
TAN. And I so fetch up all the men every term-time, that
’tis impossible to be at civil cuckoldry within
ourselves, unless the whole country rise upon our wives.
FID. A’ my faith, a pretty policy!
PHŒ. Nay, an excellent stratagem: but of all I most
wonder at the continual substance of thy wit, that,
having had so many suits in law from time to time, thou
hast still money to relieve ’em.
FID. Has the best fortune for that; I never knew him
without.
TAN. Why do you so much wonder at that? Why, this is my
course: my mare and I come up some five days before a
term.
PHŒ. A good decorum!
TAN. Here I lodge, as you see, amongst inns and places
of most receipt——
PHŒ. Very wittily.
TAN. By which advantage I dive into countrymen’s causes;
furnish ’em with knavish counsel, little to their
profit; buzzing into their ears this course, that writ,
this office, that _ultimum refugium_; as you know I have
words enow for the purpose.
PHŒ. Enow a’ conscience, i’faith.
TAN. Enow a’ law, no matter for conscience. For which
busy and laborious sweating courtesy, they cannot choose
but feed me with money, by which I maintain mine own
suits: hoh, hoh, hoh!
PHŒ. Why, let me hug thee: caper in mine arms.
TAN. Another special trick I have, no body must know it,
which is, to prefer most of those men to one attorney,
whom I affect best: to answer which kindness of mine, he
will sweat the better in my cause, and do them the less
good: take’t of my word, I helped my attorney to more
clients the last term than he will despatch all his
lifetime; I did it.
PHŒ. What a noble, memorable deed was there!

_Re-enter Groom._

GROOM. Sir.
TAN. Now, sir?
GROOM. There’s a kind of captain very robustiously
inquires for you.
TAN. For me? a man of war? A man of law is fit for a man
of war: we have no leisure to say prayers; we both kill
a’ Sunday mornings. I’ll not be long from your sweet
company.
PHŒ. O, no, I beseech you.
[_Exit_ TANGLE _with Groom_.
FID. What captain might this be?
PHŒ. Thou angel sent amongst us, sober Law,
Made with meek eyes, persuading action,
No loud immodest tongue,
Voic’d like a virgin, and as chaste from sale,
Save only to be heard, but not to rail;
How has abuse deform’d thee to all eyes,
That where thy virtues sat, thy vices rise!
Yet why so rashly for one villain’s fault
Do I arraign whole man? Admired Law,
Thy upper parts must needs be sacred, pure,[825]
And incorruptible; they’re grave and wise:
’Tis but the dross beneath ’em, and the clouds
That get between thy glory and their praise,
That make the visible and foul eclipse;
For those that are near to thee are upright,
As noble in their conscience as their birth;
Know that damnation is in every bribe,
And rarely[826] put it from ’em; rate the presenters,
And scourge ’em with five years’ imprisonment,
For offering but to tempt ’em.
Thus is true justice exercis’d and us’d:
Woe to the giver when the bribe’s refus’d!
’Tis not their will to have law worse than war,
Where still the poor’st die first;
To send a man without a sheet to his grave,
Or bury him in his papers;
’Tis not their mind it should be, nor to have
A suit hang longer than a man in chains,
Let him be ne’er so fasten’d. They least know
That are above the tedious steps below:
I thank my time, I do.
FID. I long to know what captain this should be.
PHŒ. See where the bane of every cause returns.

_Re-enter_ TANGLE _with_ CAPTAIN.

FID. ’S foot, ’tis the captain my father-in-law, my
lord.
PHŒ. Take heed.
CAP. The divorce shall rest then, and the five hundred
crowns shall stand in full force and virtue.
TAN. Then do you wisely, captain.
CAP. Away sail I: fare thee well.
TAN. A lusty crack of wind go with thee!
CAP. But ah——
TAN. Hah?
CAP. Remember, a scrivener.
TAN. I’ll have him for thee. [_Exit_ CAPTAIN.]—Why,
thus am I sought after by all professions. Here’s a
weather-beaten captain, who, not long since new
married to a lady widow, would now fain have sued a
divorce between her and him, but that her honesty is
his only hinderance: to be rid of which, he does
determine to turn her into white money; and there’s a
lord, his chapman, has bid five hundred crowns for her
already.
FID. How?
TAN. Or for his part or whole in her.
PHŒ. Why, does he mean to sell his wife?
TAN. His wife? Ay, by th’ mass, he would sell his soul
if he knew what merchant would lay out money upon’t; and
some of ’em have need of one, they swear so fast.
PHŒ. Why, I never heard of the like.
TAN. _Non audivisti_, didst ne’er hear of that trick?
Why, Pistor, a baker, sold his wife t’other day to a
cheesemonger, that made cake and cheese; another to a
cofferer; a third to a common player: why, you see
’tis common. Ne’er fear the captain: he has not so
much wit to be a precedent himself. I promised to
furnish him with an odd scrivener of mine own, to draw
the bargain and sale of his lady. Your horses stand
here, gentlemen?[827]
PHŒ. Ay, ay, ay.
TAN. I shall be busily plunged till towards bedtime
above the chin _in profundis_. [_Exit._
PHŒ. What monstrous days are these!
Not only to be vicious most men study,
But in it to be ugly; strive to exceed
Each other in the most deformed deed.
FID. Was this her private choice? did she neglect
The presence and opinion of her friends
For this?
PHŒ. I wonder who that one should be,
Should so disgrace that reverend name of lord,
So loathsomely to buy adultery?
FID. We may make means to know.
PHŒ. Take courage, man; we’ll beget some defence.
FID. I’m[828] bound by nature.
PHŒ. I by conscience.
To sell his lady! Indeed, she was a beast
To marry him; and so he makes of her.—
Come, I’ll thorough now I’m enter’d. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_A Street._

_Enter Jeweller’s Wife and Boy._

JEW. WIFE. Is my sweet knight coming? are you certain
he’s coming?
BOY. Certain, forsooth; I am sure I saw him out of the
barber’s shop, ere I would come away.
JEW. WIFE. A barber’s shop? O, he’s a trim knight! would
he venture his body into a barber’s shop, when he knows
’tis as dangerous as a piece of Ireland? O, yonder,
yonder he comes! Get you back again, and look you say as
I advised you.
BOY. You know me, mistress.
JEW. WIFE. My mask, my mask. [_Exit Boy._

_Enter_ KNIGHT, _and Lackey following at some distance_.

KNIGHT. My sweet Revenue!
JEW. WIFE. My Pleasure, welcome! I have got single; none
but you shall accompany me to the justice of peace, my
father’s.
KNIGHT. Why, is thy father justice of peace, and I not
know it?
JEW. WIFE. My father? i’faith, sir, ay; simply though I
stand here a citizen’s wife, I am a justice of peace’s
daughter.
KNIGHT. I love thee the better for thy birth.
JEW. WIFE. Is that your lackey yonder, in the
steaks[829] of velvet?
KNIGHT. He’s at thy service, my sweet Revenue, for thy
money paid for ’em.
JEW. WIFE. Why, then, let him run a little before, I
beseech thee; for, a’ my troth, he will discover us
else.
KNIGHT. He shall obey thee.—Before, sirrah, trudge.
[_Exit Lackey._]—But do you mean to lie at your father’s
all night?
JEW. WIFE. Why should I desire your company else?
KNIGHT. ’S foot, where shall I lie then?
JEW. WIFE. What an idle question’s that! why, do you
think I cannot make room for you in my father’s house as
well as in my husband’s? they’re both good for nothing
else.
KNIGHT. A man so resolute in valour as a woman in
desire, were an absolute leader. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VI.

_A Room in_ FALSO’S _House_.

_Enter_ FALSO _and two Suitors_.

FIRST SUIT. May it please your good worship, master
justice——
FAL. Please me and please yourself; that’s my word.
FIRST SUIT. The party your worship sent for will by no
means be brought to appear.
FAL. He will not? then what would you advise me to do
therein?
FIRST SUIT. Only to grant your worship’s warrant, which
is of sufficient force to compel him.
FAL. No, by my faith, you shall not have me in that
trap: am I sworn justice of peace, and shall I give my
warrant to fetch a man against his will? why, there the
peace is broken. We must do all quietly: if he come,
he’s welcome; and as far as I can see yet, he’s a fool
to be absent,—ay, by this gold is he—which he gave me
this morning.

[_Aside._
FIRST SUIT. Why, but may it please your good worship—
FAL. I say again, please me and please yourself; that’s
my word still.
FIRST SUIT. Sir, the world esteems it a common favour,
upon the contempt of the party, the justice to grant his
warrant.
FAL. Ay, ’tis so common, ’tis the worse again; ’twere
the better for me ’twere otherwise.
FIRST SUIT. I protest, sir, and this gentleman can say
as much, it lies upon my half undoing.
FAL. I cannot see yet that it should be so,—I see not a
cross ye.[830] [_Aside._
FIRST SUIT. I beseech your worship shew me your
immediate favour, and accept this small trifle but as a
remembrance to my succeeding thankfulness.
FAL. Angels?[831] I’ll not meddle with them; you give
’em to my wife, not to me.
FIRST SUIT. Ay, ay, sir.
FAL. But I pray tell me now, did the party viva voce,
with his own mouth, deliver that contempt, that he would
not appear, or did you but jest in’t?
FIRST SUIT. Jest? no, a’ my troth, sir; such was his
insolent answer.
FAL. And do you think it stood with my credit to put up
such an abuse? Will he not appear, says he? I’ll make
him appear with a vengeance.—Latronello!

_Enter_ LATRONELLO.

LAT. Does your worship call?
FAL. Draw me a strong-limbed warrant for the gentleman
speedily; he will be bountiful to thee.—Go and thank him
within.
FIRST SUIT. I shall know your worship hereafter.
FAL. Ay, I prithee do. [_Exeunt Suitors with_
LATRONELLO.] Two angels one party, four another: and I
think it a great spark of wisdom and policy, if a man
come to me for justice, first to know his griefs by his
fees, which be light, and which be heavy; he may
counterfeit else, and make me do justice for nothing: I
like not that; for when I mean to be just, let me be
paid well for’t: the deed so rare purges the bribe.

_Enter_ FURTIVO.

How now? what’s the news, thou art come so hastily? how
fares my knightly brother?
FUR. Troth, he ne’er fared worse in his life, sir; he
ne’er had less stomach to his meat since I knew him.
FAL. Why, sir?
FUR. Indeed he’s dead, sir.
FAL. How, sir?
FUR. Newly deceased, I can assure your worship: the
tobacco-pipe new dropt out of his mouth before I took
horse; a shrewd sign; I knew then there was no way but
one with him; the poor pipe was the last man he took
leave of in this world, who fell in three pieces before
him, and seemed to mourn inwardly, for it looked as
black i’ th’ mouth as my master.
FAL. Would he die so like a politician, and not once
write his mind to me?
FUR. No, I’ll say that for him, sir, he died in the
perfect state of memory; made your worship his full and
whole executor, bequeathing his daughter, and with her
all his wealth, only to your disposition.
FAL. Did he make such a godly end, sayest thou? did he
die so comfortably, and bequeath all to me?
FUR. Your niece is at hand, sir, the will, and the
witnesses.
FAL. What a precious joy and comfort’s this, that a
justice’s brother can die so well, nay, in such a good
and happy memory, to make me full executor! Well, he was
too honest to live, and that made him die so soon. Now I
beshrew my heart, I am glad he’s in heaven, has left all
his cares and troubles with me, and that great vexation
of telling of money: yet I hope he had so much grace
before he died to turn his white money into gold, a
great ease to his executor.
FUR. See, here comes your niece, my young mistress, sir.

_Enter_ NIECE _and two Gentlemen_.

FAL. Ah, my sweet niece, let me kiss thee, and drop a
tear between thy lips! one tear from an old man is a
great matter; the cocks of age are dry. Thou hast lost a
virtuous father, to gain a notable uncle.
NIECE. My hopes now rest in you next under heaven.
FAL. Let ’em rest, let ’em rest.
FIRST GENT. Sir——
FAL. You’re most welcome ere ye begin, sir.
FIRST GENT. We are both led by oath and dreadful
promise,
Made to the dying man at his last sense,
First to deliver these into your hands,
The sureties and revealers of his state——
[_Giving papers._
FAL. Good.
FIRST GENT. With this his only daughter, and your
niece,
Whose fortunes are at your disposing set;
Uncle and father are in you both met.
FAL. Good, i’faith; a well-spoken gentleman!
You’re not an esquire, sir?
FIRST GENT. Not, sir.
FAL. Not, sir? more’s the pity; by my faith, better men
than you are, but a great many worse: you see I have
been a scholar in my time, though I’m a justice
now.—Niece, you’re most happily welcome: the charge of
you is wholly and solely mine own; and since you are so
fortunately come, niece, I’ll rest a perpetual widower.

NIECE. I take the meaning chaster than the words:
Yet I hope well of both, since it is thus,
His phrase offends least that’s known humorous.
FAL. [_reading the will._] _I make my brother_, says he,
_full and whole executor_: honestly done of him,
i’faith! seldom can a man get such a brother: and here
again says he, very virtuously, _I bequeath all to him
and his disposing_. An excellent fellow, a’ my troth!
Would you might all die no worse, gentlemen!

_Enter_ KNIGHT _and_ JEWELLER’S WIFE.

FIRST GENT. But as much better as might be.
KNIGHT. Bless your uprightness, master justice!
FAL. You’re most soberly welcome, sir.—Daughter, you’ve
that ye kneel for: rise, salute your weeping cousin.
JEW. WIFE. Weeping, cousin?
NIECE. Ay, cousin.
KNIGHT. Eye to weeping is very proper, and so is the
party that spake it; believe me, a pretty, fine,
slender, straight, delicate-knit body:

O, how it moves a pleasure through our senses!
How small are women’s waists to their expenses!
I cannot see her face, that’s under water yet.
JEW. WIFE. News as cold to the heart as an old man’s
kindness; my uncle dead!
NIECE. I have lost the dearest father!
FAL. [_reading the will._] _If she marry by your
consent, choice, and liking, make her dowry five
thousand crowns_: hum, five thousand crowns? therefore
by my consent she shall ne’er marry; I will neither
choose for her, like of it, nor consent to’t.
[_Aside._
KNIGHT. Now, by the pleasure of my blood, a pretty
cousin! I would not care if I were as near kin to her as
I have been to her kinswoman. [_Aside._
FAL. Daughter, what gentleman might this be?
JEW. WIFE. No gentleman, sir; he’s a knight.
FAL. Is he but a knight? troth, I would a’ sworn had
been a gentleman, to see, to see, to see.
JEW. WIFE. He’s my husband’s own brother, I can tell
you, sir.
FAL. Thy husband’s brother? speak certainly, prithee.
JEW. WIFE. I can assure you, father, my husband and he
have[833] lain both in one belly.
FAL. I’ll swear then he is his brother indeed, and by
the surer side.—I crave hearty pardon, sweet kinsman,
that thou hast stood so long unsaluted in the way of
kindred:

Welcome[834] to my board: I have a bed for thee:
My daughter’s husband’s brother shall command
Keys of my chests and chambers:
I have stable for thy horse, chamber for thyself,
And a loft above for thy lousy lackey, all fit.
Away with handkerchers, [and] dry up eyes:
At funeral we must cry; now let’s be wise.
[_Exeunt all but_ KNIGHT _and_ JEWELLER’S WIFE.
JEW. WIFE. I told you his affection.
KNIGHT.[835] It falls sweetly.
JEW. WIFE. But here I bar you from all plots to-night,
The time is yet too heavy to be light.
KNIGHT. Why, I’m content; I’ll sleep as chaste as you,
And wager night by night who keeps most true.
JEW. WIFE. Well, we shall see your temper.
[_Exeunt._