Chapter V: Act III: 109 Scene I

_Before_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE’S _house_.

_Enter_ WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, OVERDONE, _and_ SIR
GILBERT LAMBSTONE.

WEA. Faith, sir Gilbert, forget and forgive; there’s
all our hands to a new bargain of friendship.
PEP. Ay, and all our hearts to boot, sir Gilbert.
WEA. Why, la, you, there’s but four suitors left on’s in
all the world, and the fifth has the widow; if we should
not be kind to one another, and so few on’s, i’faith, I
would we were all raked up in some hole or other!
SIR G. LAMB. Pardon me, gentlemen; I cannot but
remember
Your late disgraceful words before the widow,
In time of my oppression.
WEA. Pooh, Saturn reigned then, a melancholy, grumbling
planet; he was in the third house of privy enemies, and
would have bewrayed[110] all our plots; beside, there
was a fiery conjunction in the Dragon’s tail,[111] that
spoiled all that e’er we went about.
SIR G. LAMB. Dragon or devil, somewhat ’twas, I’m sure.
WEA. Why, I tell you, sir Gilbert, we were all out of
our wits in’t; I was so mad at that time myself, I could
have wished an hind quarter of my Bull out of your belly
again, whereas now I care not if you had eat tail and
all; I am no niggard in the way of friendship; I was
ever yet at full moon in good fellowship; and so you
shall find, if you look into the almanac of my true
nature.
SIR G. LAMB. Well, all’s forgiven for once; hands
a-pace, gentlemen.
WEA. Ye shall have two of mine to do you a kindness;
yet, when they’re both abroad, who shall look to th’
house here?
[_Giving his hands to_ SIR G. LAMBSTONE.
PEP. } Not only a new friendship, but a friend.
OVER. }
[_Giving their hands to_ SIR G. LAMBSTONE.
SIR G. LAMB. But upon this condition, gentlemen,
You shall hear now a thing worth your revenge.
WEA. And[112] you doubt that,
You shall have mine beforehand, I’ve one ready;
I never go without a black oath about me.
SIR G. LAMB. I know the least touch of a spur in this
Will now put your desires to a false gallop,
By all means slanderous in every place,
And in all companies, to disgrace the widow;
No matter in what rank, so it be spiteful
And worthy your revenges: so now I;
It shall be all my study, care, and pains;
And we can lose no labour; all her foes
Will make such use on’t, that they’ll snatch it from us
Faster than we can forge it, though we keep
Four tongues at work upon’t, and never cease.
Then for th’ indifferent world, faith, they are apter
To bid a slander[113] welcome than a truth.
We have the odds of our side: this in time
May grow so general, as disgrace will spread,
That wild dissension may divide the bed.
WEA. } Excellent!
PEP. }
OVER. A pure revenge! I see no dregs in’t.
SIR G. LAMB. Let each man look to his part now, and
not feed
Upon one dish all four on’s, like plain maltmen;
For at this feast we must have several kickshaws
And delicate-made dishes, that the world
May see it is a banquet finely furnish’d.
WEA. Why, then, let me alone for one of your
kickshaws,
I’ve thought on that already.
SIR G. LAMB. Prithee, how, sir?
WEA. Marry, sir, I’ll give it out abroad that I have
lain with the widow myself, as ’tis the fashion of many
a gallant to disgrace his new mistress when he cannot
have his will of her, and lie with her name in every
tavern, though he ne’er came within a yard of her
person; so I, being a gentleman, may say as much in that
kind as a gallant; I am as free by my father’s copy.
SIR G. LAMB. This will do excellent, sir.
WEA. And, moreover, I’ll give the world thus much to
understand beside, that if I had not lain with the
widow in the wane of the moon, at one of my Seven
Stars’ houses, when Venus was about business of her
own, and could give no attendance, she had been
brought a-bed with two roaring boys by this time; and
the Gemini being infants, I’d have made away with them
like a step-mother, and put mine own boys in their
places.
SIR G. LAM. Why, this is beyond talk; you out-run your
master.

_Enter_ PICKADILL.
PICK. Whoop! draw home next time; here are all the old
shooters that have lost the game at pricks! What a fair
mark had sir Gilbert on’t, if he had shot home before
the last arrow came in! methinks these shew to me now,
for all the world, like so many lousy beggars turned out
of my lady’s barn, and have ne’er a hole to put their
heads in. [_Aside._
WEA. Mass, here’s her ladyship’s ass; he tells us any
thing.
SIR G. LAMB. Ho, Pickadill!
PICK. What, sir Gilbert Lambstone!
Gentlemen, outlaws all, how do you do?
SIR G. LAMB. How! what dost call us? how goes the
world at home, lad?
What strange news?
PICK. This is the state of prodigals as right as can be;
when they have spent all their means on brave feasts,
they’re glad to scrape to a serving-man for a meal’s
meat:

So you that whilom,[114] like four prodigal rivals,
Could goose or capon, crane or woodcock choose,
Now’re glad to make up a poor meal with news;
A lamentable hearing!
WEA. He’s in passion[115]
Up to the eyebrows for us.
PICK. O master Weatherwise, I blame none but you!
You’re a gentleman deeply read in Pond’s Almanac,[116]
Methinks you should not be such a shallow fellow;
You knew this day, the twelfth of June, would come,
When the sun enters into the Crab’s room,
And all your hopes would go aside, aside.
WEA. The fool says true, i’faith, gentlemen; I knew
’twould come all to this pass; I’ll shew’t you
presently. [_Takes out almanac._
PICK. If you had spar’d but four of your Twelve Signs
now,
You might have gone to a tavern and made merry with ’em.
WEA. Has the best moral meaning of an ass that e’er I
heard speak with tongue.—Look you here, gentlemen
[_reads almanac_], _Fifth day,[117] neither fish nor
flesh_.
PICK. No, nor good red herring, and[118] you look
again.
WEA. [_reads_] _Sixth day, privily prevented._
PICK. Marry, faugh!
WEA. [_reads_] _Seventh day, shrunk in the wetting._
PICK. Nay, so will the best ware bought for love or
money.
WEA. [_reads_] _The eighth day, over head and ears._
PICK. By my faith, he come[s] home in a sweet pickle
then!
WEA. [_reads_] _The ninth day, scarce sound at heart._
PICK. What a pox ailed it?
WEA. [_reads_] _The tenth day, a courtier’s welcome._
PICK. That’s a cup of beer, and[118] you can get it.
WEA. [_reads_] _The eleventh day, stones against the
wind._
PICK. Pox of an ass! he might have thrown ’em better.
WEA. Now the _twelfth day_, gentlemen, that was our
day; [_Reads._
_Past all redemption_.
PICK. Then the devil go with’t!
WEA. Now you see plainly, gentlemen, how we’re us’d;
The calendar will not lie for no man’s pleasure.
SIR G. LAMB. Push,[119] you’re too confident in
almanac-posies.
PEP. Faith, so said we.
SIR G. LAMB. They’re mere delusions.
WEA. How!
You see how knavishly they happen, sir.
SIR G. LAMB. Ay, that’s because they’re foolishly
believ’d,[120] sir.
WEA. Well, take your courses, gentlemen, without ’em,
and see what will come on’t: you may wander like
masterless men, there’s ne’er a planet will care a
halfpenny for you; if they look after you, I’ll be
hanged, when you scorn to bestow twopence to look after
them.
SIR G. LAMB. How! a device at the wedding, sayest thou?
PICK. Why, have none of you heard of that yet?
SIR G. LAMB. ’Tis the first news, i’faith, lad.
PICK. O, there’s a brave travelling scholar entertained
into the house a’ purpose, one that has been all the
world over, and some part of Jerusalem; has his chamber,
his diet, and three candles[121] allowed him after
supper.
WEA. By my faith, he need not complain for victuals
then, whate’er he be.
PICK. He lies in one of the best chambers i’ th’ house,
bravely matted; and to warm his wits as much, a cup of
sack and an _aqua vitæ_[122] bottle stand[123] just at
his elbow.
WEA. He’s shrewdly hurt, by my faith; if he catch an
ague of that fashion, I’ll be hanged.
PICK. He’ll come abroad anon.
SIR G. LAMB. Art sure on’t?
PICK. Why, he ne’er stays a quarter of an hour in the
house together.
SIR G. LAMB. No? how can he study then?
PICK. Faugh, best of all; he talks as he goes, and
writes as he runs; besides, you know ’tis death to a
traveller to stand long in one place.
SIR G. LAMB. It may hit right, boys!—Honest Pickadill,
Thou wast wont to love me.
PICK. I’d good cause, sir, then.
SIR G. LAMB. Thou shalt have the same still; take that.
[_Giving money._
PICK. Will you believe me now? I ne’er loved you better
in my life than I do at this present.
SIR G. LAMB. Tell me now truly; who are the
presenters?
What parsons[124] are employ’d in the device?
PICK. Parsons? not any, sir; my mistress will not be at
the charge; she keeps none but an old Welsh vicar.
SIR G. LAMB. Prithee, I mean, who be the speakers?
PICK. Troth, I know none but those that open their
mouths. Here he comes now himself, you may ask him.

_Enter_ BEVERIL.

WEA. Is this he? by my faith, one may pick a gentleman
out of his calves and a scholar out on’s cheeks; one may
see by his looks what’s in him: I warrant you there has
ne’er a new almanac come out these dozen years, but he
has studied it over and over. [_Aside._
SIR G. LAMB. Do not reveal us now.
PICK. Because you shall be sure on’t, you have given me
a ninepence here, and I’ll give you the slip[125] for’t.
SIR G. LAMB. Well said. [_Exit_ PICKADILL.]—Now the
fool’s pleas’d, we may be bold.
BEV. Love is as great an enemy to wit
As ignorance to art; I find my powers
So much employ’d in business of my heart,
That all the time’s too little to despatch
Affairs within me. Fortune, too remiss,
I suffer for thy slowness: had I come
Before a vow had chain’d their souls together,
There might have been some hope, though ne’er so little;
Now there’s no spark at all, nor e’er can be,
But dreadful ones struck from adultery;
And if my lust were smother’d with her will,
O, who could wrong a gentleman so kind,
A stranger made up with a brother’s mind! [_Aside._
SIR G. LAMB. Peace, peace, enough; let me alone to
manage it.—
A quick invention, and a happy one,
Reward your study, sir!
BEV. Gentlemen, I thank you.
SIR G. LAMB. We understand your wits are in
employment, sir,
In honour of this wedding.
BEV. Sir, the gentleman
To whom that worthy lady is betroth’d
Vouchsafes t’accept the power of my good will in’t.
SIR G. LAMB. I pray, resolve[126] us then, sir—for
we’re friends
That love and honour her—
Whether your number be yet full, or no,
Of those which you make choice of for presenters?
BEV. First, ’tis so brief, because the time is so,
We shall not trouble many; and for those
We shall employ, the house will yield in servants.
SIR G. LAMB. Nay, then, under your leave and favour,
sir,
Since all your pains will be so weakly grac’d,
And, wanting due performance, lose their lustre,
Here are four of us gentlemen, her friends,
Both lovers of her honour and your art,
That would be glad so to express ourselves,
And think our service well and worthily plac’d.
BEV. My thanks do me no grace for this large kindness;
You make my labours proud of such presenters.
SIR G. LAMB. She shall not think, sir, she’s so ill
belov’d,
But friends can quickly make that number perfect.
BEV. She’s bound t’acknowledge it.
SIR G. LAMB. Only thus much, sir,
Which will amaze her most; I’d have’t so carried,
As you can do’t, that neither she nor none
Should know what friends we were till all were done.
WEA. Ay, that would make the sport!
BEV. I like it well, sir:
My hand and faith amongst you, gentlemen,
It shall be so dispos’d of.
SIR G. LAMB. We’re the men then.
BEV. Then look you, gentlemen; the device is single,
Naked, and plain, because the time’s so short,
And gives no freedom to a wealthier sport;
’Tis only, gentlemen, the four elements
In liveliest forms, Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.
WEA. Mass, and here’s four of us too.
BEV. It fits well, sir:
This the effect,—that whereas all those four
Maintain a natural opposition
And untruc’d war the one against the other,
To shame their ancient envies, they should see
How well in two breasts all these do agree.
WEA. That’s in the bride and bridegroom; I am quick,
sir.
SIR G. LAMB. In faith, it’s pretty, sir; I approve it
well.
BEV. But see how soon my happiness and your kindness
Are[127] crost together!
SIR G. LAMB. Crost? I hope not so, sir.
BEV. I can employ but two of you.
PEP. How comes that, sir?
BEV. Air and the Fire should be by me[n] presented,
But the two other in the forms of women.
WEA. Nay, then, we’re gone again; I think these women
Were made to vex and trouble us in all shapes.
[_Aside._
SIR G. LAMB. Faith, sir, you stand too nicely.[128]
WEA. So think I, sir.
BEV. Yet, when we tax ourselves, it may the better
Set off our errors, when the fine eyes judge ’em;
But Water certainly should be a woman.
WEA. By my faith, then, he is gelded since I saw him
last; he was thought to be a man once, when he got his
wife with child before he was married.
BEV. Fie, you are fishing in another stream, sir.
WEA. But now I come to yours, and[129] you go to that,
sir; I see no reason then but Fire and Water should
change shapes and genders.
BEV. How prove you that, sir?
WEA. Why, there’s no reason but Water should be a man,
because Fire is commonly known to be a quean.
BEV. So, sir; you argue well.
WEA. Nay, more, sir; water will break in at a little
crevice, so will a man, if he be not kept out; water
will undermine, so will an informer; water will ebb and
flow, so will a gentleman; water will search any place,
and so will a constable, as lately he did at my Seven
Stars for a young wench that was stole; water will
quench fire, and so will Wat the barber: _ergo_, let
Water wear a codpiece-point.
BEV. Faith, gentlemen, I like your company well.
WEA. Let’s see who’ll dispute with me at the full o’
the moon!
BEV. No, sir; and[129] you be vain-glorious of your
talent, I’ll put you to’t once more.
WEA. I’m for you, sir, as long as the moon keeps in this
quarter.
BEV. Well, how answer you this then? earth and water are
both bearers, therefore they should be women.
WEA. Why, so are porters and pedlars, and yet they are
known to be men.
BEV. I’ll give you over in time, sir; I shall repent the
bestowing on’t else.
WEA. If I, that have proceeded[130] in five-and-twenty
such books of astronomy, should not be able to put down
a scholar now in one thousand six hundred thirty and
eight, the dominical letter being G, I stood for a
goose.
SIR G. LAMB. Then this will satisfy you; though that be
a woman,
Oceanus the sea, that’s chief of waters,
He wears the form of a man, and so may you.
BEV. Now I hear reason, and I may consent.
SIR G. LAMB. And so, though earth challenge a feminine
face,
The matter of which earth consists, that’s dust,
The general soul of earth is of both kinds.
BEV. Fit yourselves, gentlemen, I’ve enough for me;
Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, part ’em amongst you.
WEA. Let me play Air,[131] I was my father’s eldest son.
BEV. Ay, but this Air never possess’d the lands.
WEA. I’m but disposed to jest with you, sir; ’tis the
same my almanac speaks on, is’t not?
BEV. That ’tis, sir.
WEA. Then leave it to my discretion, to fit both the
part and the person.
BEV. You shall have your desire, sir.
SIR G. LAMB. We’ll agree
Without your trouble now, sir; we’re not factious,
Or envy one another for best parts,
Like quarrelling actors that have passionate fits;
We submit always to the writer’s wits.
BEV. He that commends you may do’t liberally,
For you deserve as much as praise can shew.
SIR G. LAMB. We’ll send to you privately.
BEV. I’ll despatch you.
SIR G. LAMB. We’ll poison your device.
[_Aside, and exit._
PEP. She must have pleasures,
Shows, and conceits, and we disgraceful doom.
[_Aside, and exit._
WEA. We’ll make your Elements come limping home.
[_Aside, and exit._
BEV. How happy am I in this unlook’d-for grace,
This voluntary kindness, from these gentlemen!

_Enter behind_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _and_ LOW-WATER, _both
disguised as before_.

’Twill set off all my labours far more pleasing
Before the widow, whom my heart calls mistress,
But my tongue dares not second it.
LOW. How say you now, Kate?
MIS. LOW. I like this music well, sir.
BEV. O unfortunate!
Yet though a tree be guarded from my touch,
There’s none can hinder me to love the fruit.
MIS. LOW. Nay, now we know your mind, brother, we’ll
provide for you.
[_Exeunt_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _and_ LOW-WATER.
BEV. O were it but as free as late times knew it,
I would deserve, if all life’s wealth could do it!
[_Exit._