SCENE V.
[Manet Warehouse.] Enter Seathrift, Mistress Seathrift, Mistress Holland, Mistress Scruple.
Mis. Sea. Much joy to you, sir; you have made quick despatch.
I like a man that can love, woo, and wed,
All in an hour. My husband was so long
A-getting me; so many friends' consents
Were to be ask'd, that when we came to church,
'Twas not a marriage, but our times were out,
And we were there made free of one another.
Mis. Hol. I look'd to find you abed and a young sheriff
Begot by this. My husband, when I came
From church, by this time had his caudle: I
Had not a garter left, nor he a point.
Mis. Scr. Surely, all that my husband did the first
Night we were married, was to call for one
Of his wrought caps more to allay his rheum.
Mis. Hol. We hear y' have match'd a courtier, sir: a gallant:
One that can spring fire in your blood, and dart
Fresh flames into you.
Mis. Sea. Sir, you are not merry:
Methinks you do not look as you were married.
Mis. Hol. You rather look as you had lost your love.
Mis. Scr. Or else, as if your spouse, sir, had rebuk'd you.
Sea. How is it, sir? You see I have brought along
My fiddlers with me; my wife and Mistress Holland
Are good wind-instruments. 'Tis enough for me
To put on sadness.
Ware. You, sir, have no cause.
Sea. Not I! Ask Mistress Scruple. I have lost
My daughter, sir: she's stol'n. Then, sir, I have
A spendthrift to my son.
Ware. These are felicities
Compar'd to me. You have not match'd a whore, sir,
Nor lost two ships at sea.
Sea. Nor you, I hope?
Ware. Truth is, you are my friends; I am abus'd,
Grossly fetch'd over. I have match'd a stew,
The notedst woman o' th' town.
Mis. Sea. Indeed, I heard
She was a chambermaid.
Mis. Hol. And they by their place
Do wait upon the lady, but belong
Unto the lord.
Sea. But is this true?
Ware. Here was
My nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell me
She has three children living; one dapple-grey,
Half Moor, half English: knows as many men
As she that sinned by th' calendar, and divided
The nights o' th' year with several men.
Sea. Bless me, goodness!
Ware. Then, like a man condemned to all misfortunes,
I have estated her in all I have.
Sea. How!
Ware. Under hand and seal, sir, irrecoverably.