ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.—Candido’s Shop.
Candido, Viola, George, and two Prentices discovered: Fustigo enters, walking by.
Geo. See, gentlemen, what you lack; a fine holland, a fine cambric: see what you buy.
1st Pren. Holland for shirts, cambric for bands; what is’t you lack?
Fus. ’Sfoot, I lack ’em all; nay, more, I lack money to buy ’em. Let me see, let me look again: mass, this is the shop. [Aside.] What coz! sweet coz! how dost, i’faith, since last night after candlelight? we had good sport, i’faith, had we not? and when shall’s laugh again?
Vio. When you will, cousin.
Fus. Spoke like a kind Lacedemonian: I see yonder’s thy husband.
Vio. Ay, there’s the sweet youth, God bless him!
Fus. And how is’t, cousin? and how, how is’t, thou squall?[170]
Vio. Well, cousin, how fare you?
Fus. How fare I? for sixpence a-meal, wench, as well as heart can wish, with calves’ chaldrons,[171] and chitterlings;[172] besides, I have a punk after supper, as good as a roasted apple.
Cand. Are you my wife’s cousin?
Fus. I am, sir; what hast thou to do with that?
Cand. O, nothing, but you’re welcome.
Fus. The devil’s dung in thy teeth! I’ll be welcome whether thou wilt or no, I.—What ring’s this, coz? very pretty and fantastical, i’faith! let’s see it.
Vio. Pooh! nay, you wrench my finger.
Fus. I ha’ sworn I’ll ha’t, and I hope you will not let my oaths be cracked in the ring, will you? [Seizes the ring.] I hope, sir, you are not malicholly[173] at this, for all your great looks: are you angry?
Cand. Angry? not I, sir, nay if she can part
So easily with her ring, ’tis with my heart.
Geo. Suffer this, sir, and suffer all, a whoreson gull, to—
Cand. Peace George, when she has reaped what I have sown,
She’ll say, one grain tastes better of her own,
Than whole sheaves gathered from another’s land:
Wit’s never good, till bought at a dear hand.
Geo. But in the mean-time she makes an ass of some body.
2nd Pren. See, see, see, sir, as you turn your back they do nothing but kiss.
Cand. No matter, let ’em: when I touch her lip,
I shall not feel his kisses, no, nor miss
Any of her lip: no harm in kissing is.
Look to your business, pray, make up your wares.
Fus. Troth, coz, and well remembered, I would thou wouldst give me five yards of lawn, to make my punk some falling bands a’ the fashion; three falling one upon another, for that’s the new edition now: she’s out of linen horribly, too; troth, sh’ as never a good smock to her back neither, but one that has a great many patches in’t, and that I’m fain to wear myself for want of shift, too: prithee, put me into wholesome napery, and bestow some clean commodities upon us.
Vio. Reach me those cambrics, and the lawns hither.
Cand. What to do, wife? to lavish out my goods upon a fool?
Fus. Fool? Snails, eat the fool, or I’ll so batter your crown, that it shall scarce go for five shillings.
2nd Pren. Do you hear, sir? you’re best be quiet, and say a fool tells you so.
Fus. Nails, I think so, for thou tellest me.
Cand. Are you angry, sir, because I named the fool?
Trust me, you are not wise in my own house,
And to my face to play the antic thus:
If you needs play the madman, choose a stage
Of lesser compass, where few eyes may note
Your action’s error: but if still you miss,
As here you do, for one clap, ten will hiss.
Fus. Zounds, cousin, he talks to me, as if I were a scurvy tragedian.
2nd Pren. Sirrah George, I ha’ thought upon a device, how to break his pate, beat him soundly, and ship him away.
Geo. Do’t.
2nd Pren. I’ll go in, pass through the house, give some of our fellow-prentices the watch-word when they shall enter; then come and fetch my master in by a wile, and place one in the hall to hold him in conference, whilst we cudgel the gull out of his coxcomb. [Exit 2nd Prentice.
Geo. Do’t: away, do’t.
Vio. Must I call twice for these cambrics and lawns?
Cand. Nay see, you anger her, George, prithee despatch.
1st Pren. Two of the choicest pieces are in the warehouse, sir.
Cand. Go fetch them presently.
Fus. Ay, do, make haste, sirrah. [Exit 1st Prentice.
Cand. Why were you such a stranger all this while, being my wife’s cousin?
Fus. Stranger? no sir, I’m a natural Milaner born.
Cand. I perceive still it is your natural guise to mistake me, but you are welcome, sir; I much wish your acquaintance.
Fus. My acquaintance? I scorn that, i’faith; I hope my acquaintance goes in chains of gold three and fifty times double:—you know who I mean, coz; the posts of his gate are a-painting too.[174]
Re-enter the 2nd Prentice.
2nd Pren. Signor Pandulfo the merchant desires conference with you.
Cand. Signor Pandulfo? I’ll be with him straight,
Attend your mistress and the gentleman. [Exit.
Vio. When do you show those pieces?
Fus. Ay, when do you show those pieces?
Prentices. [Within.] Presently, sir, presently: we are but charging them.
Fus. Come, sirrah: you flat-cap,[175] where be these whites?
Re-enter 1st Prentice with pieces.
Geo. Flat-cap? hark in your ear, sir, you’re a flat fool, an ass, a gull, and I’ll thrum[176] you:—do you see this cambric, sir?
Fus. ’Sfoot coz, a good jest, did you hear him? he told me in my ears, I was a “flat fool, an ass, a gull, and I’ll thrum you:—do you see this cambric sir?”
Vio. What, not my men, I hope?
Fus. No, not your men, but one of your men i’faith.
1st Pren. I pray, sir, come hither, what say you to this? here’s an excellent good one.
Fus. Ay, marry, this likes[177] me well; cut me off some half-score yards.
2nd Pren. Let your whores cut; you’re an impudent coxcomb; you get none, and yet I’ll thrum you:—a very good cambric, sir.
Fus. Again, again, as God judge me! ’Sfoot, coz, they stand thrumming here with me all day, and yet I get nothing.
1st Pren. A word, I pray, sir, you must not be angry. Prentices have hot bloods, young fellows,—what say you to this piece? Look you, ’tis so delicate, so soft, so even, so fine a thread, that a lady may wear it.
Fus. ’Sfoot, I think so, if a knight marry my punk, a lady shall wear it: cut me off twenty yards: thou’rt an honest lad.
1st Pren. Not without money, gull, and I’ll thrum you too.
Prentices. [Within.] Gull, we’ll thrum you.
Fus. O Lord, sister, did you not hear something cry thrum? zounds, your men here make a plain ass of me.
Vio. What, to my face so impudent?
Geo. Ay, in a cause so honest, we’ll not suffer
Our master’s goods to vanish moneyless.
Vio. You will not suffer them?
2nd Pren. No, and you may blush,
In going about to vex so mild a breast,
As is our master’s.
Vio. Take away those pieces.
Cousin, I give them freely.
Fus. Mass, and I’ll take ’em as freely.
Geo., 1st and 2nd Pren., and other prentices, rushing in. We’ll make you lay ’em down again more freely. [They all attack Fustigo with their clubs.
Vio. Help, help! my brother will be murdered.
Re-enter Candido.
Cand. How now, what coil is here? forbear I say. [Exeunt all the Prentices except the 1st and 2nd.
Geo. He calls us flat-caps, and abuses us.
Cand. Why, sirs, do such examples flow from me?
Vio. They’re of your keeping, sir. Alas, poor brother.
Fus. I’faith they ha’ peppered me, sister; look, dost not spin? call you these prentices? I’ll ne’er play at cards more when clubs is trump: I have a goodly coxcomb, sister, have I not?
Cand. Sister and brother? brother to my wife?
Fus. If you have any skill in heraldry, you may soon know that; break but her pate, and you shall see her blood and mine is all one.
Cand. A surgeon! run, a surgeon! [Exit 1st Prentice.] Why then wore you that forged name of cousin?
Fus. Because it’s a common thing to call coz, and ningle[178] now-a-days all the world over.
Cand. Cousin! A name of much deceit, folly, and sin,
For under that common abused word,
Many an honest-tempered citizen
Is made a monster, and his wife trained out
To foul adulterous action, full of fraud.
I may well call that word, a city’s bawd.
Fus. Troth, brother, my sister would needs ha’ me take upon me to gull your patience a little: but it has made double gules[179] on my coxcomb.
Vio. What, playing the woman? blabbing now, you fool?
Cand. Oh, my wife did but exercise a jest upon your wit.
Fus. ’Sfoot, my wit bleeds for’t, methinks.
Cand. Then let this warning more of sense afford;
The name of cousin is a bloody word.
Fus. I’ll ne’er call coz again whilst I live, to have such a coil about it; this should be a coronation day; for my head runs claret lustily. [Exit.
Cand. Go, wish[180] the surgeon to have great respect— [Exit 2nd Prentice.
Enter an Officer.
How now, my friend? what, do they sit to day?
Offi. Yes, sir, they expect you at the senate-house.
Cand. I thank your pains; I’ll not be last man there.— [Exit Officer.
My gown, George, go, my gown. [Exit George.] A happy land,
Where grave men meet each cause to understand;
Whose consciences are not cut out in bribes
To gull the poor man’s right; but in even scales,
Peize[181] rich and poor, without corruption’s vails.[182]
Re-enter George.
Come, where’s the gown?
Geo. I cannot find the key, sir.
Cand. Request it of your mistress.
Vio. Come not to me for any key;
I’ll not be troubled to deliver it.
Cand. Good wife, kind wife, it is a needful trouble, but for my gown!
Vio. Moths swallow down your gown!
You set my teeth on edge with talking on’t.
Cand. Nay, prithee, sweet,—I cannot meet without it,
I should have a great fine set on my head.
Vio. Set on your coxcomb; tush, fine me no fines.
Cand. Believe me, sweet, none greets the senate-house,
Without his robe of reverence,—that’s his gown.
Vio. Well, then, you’re like to cross that custom once;
You get no key, nor gown; and so depart.—
This trick will vex him sure, and fret his heart. [Aside and Exit.
Cand. Stay, let me see, I must have some device,—
My cloak’s too short: fie, fie, no cloak will do’t;
It must be something fashioned like a gown,
With my arms out. Oh George, come hither, George:
I prithee, lend me thine advice.
Geo. Troth, sir, were’t any but you, they would break open chest.
Cand. O no! break open chest! that’s a thief’s office;
Therein you counsel me against my blood:
’Twould show impatience that: any meek means
I would be glad to embrace. Mass, I have got it.
Go, step up, fetch me down one of the carpets,[183]
The saddest-coloured carpet, honest George,
Cut thou a hole i’th’ middle for my neck,
Two for mine arms. Nay, prithee, look not strange.
Geo. I hope you do not think, sir, as you mean.
Cand. Prithee, about it quickly, the hour chides me:
Warily, George, softly, take heed of eyes, [Exit George.
Out of two evils he’s accounted wise,
That can pick out the least; the fine imposed
For an un-gowned senator, is about
Forty crusadoes,[184] the carpet not ’bove four.
Thus have I chosen the lesser evil yet,
Preserved my patience, foiled her desperate wit.
Re-enter George with carpet.
Geo. Here, sir, here’s the carpet.
Cand. O well done, George, we’ll cut it just i’th’ midst. [They cut the carpet.
’Tis very well; I thank thee: help it on.
Geo. It must come over your head, sir, like a wench’s petticoat.
Cand. Thou’rt in the right, good George; it must indeed.
Fetch me a night-cap: for I’ll gird it close,
As if my health were queasy: ’twill show well
For a rude, careless night-gown, will’t not, think’st?
Geo. Indifferent well, sir, for a night-gown, being girt and pleated.
Cand. Ay, and a night-cap on my head.
Geo. That’s true sir, I’ll run and fetch one, and a staff. [Exit.
Cand. For thus they cannot choose but conster[185] it,
One that is out of health, takes no delight,
Wears his apparel without appetite,
And puts on heedless raiment without form.—
Re-enter George, with nightcap and staff.
So, so, kind George, [Puts on nightcap.]—be secret now: and, prithee, do not laugh at me till I’m out of sight.
Geo. I laugh? not I, sir.
Cand. Now to the senate-house:
Methinks, I’d rather wear, without a frown,
A patient carpet, than an angry gown. [Exit.
Geo. Now, looks my master just like one of our carpet knights,[186] only he’s somewhat the honester of the two.
Re-enter Viola.
Vio. What, is your master gone?
Geo. Yes, forsooth, his back is but new turned.
Vio. And in his cloak? did he not vex and swear?
Geo. No, but he’ll make you swear anon.— [Aside.]
No, indeed, he went away like a lamb.
Vio. Key, sink to hell! still patient, patient still?
I am with child[187] to vex him: prithee, George,
If e’er thou look’st for favour at my hands,
Uphold one jest for me.
Geo. Against my master?
Vio. ’Tis a mere jest in faith: say, wilt thou do’t?
Geo. Well, what is’t?
Vio. Here, take this key; thou know’st where all things lie.
Put on thy master’s best apparel, gown,
Chain, cap, ruff, every thing, be like himself;
And ’gainst his coming home, walk in the shop;
Feign the same carriage, and his patient look,
’Twill breed but a jest, thou know’st; speak, wilt thou?
Geo. ’Twill wrong my master’s patience.
Vio. Prithee, George.
Geo. Well, if you’ll save me harmless, and put me under covert barn,[188] I am content to please you, provided it may breed no wrong against him.
Vio. No wrong at all: here take the key, be gone:
If any vex him, this: if not this, none. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—An outer Apartment in Bellafront’s House.
Enter Mistress Fingerlock and Roger.
Mis. F. O Roger, Roger, where’s your mistress, where’s your mistress? there’s the finest, neatest gentleman at my house, but newly come over: Oh, where is she, where is she, where is she?
Rog. My mistress is abroad, but not amongst ’em: my mistress is not the whore now that you take her for.
Mis. F. How? is she not a whore? do you go about to take away her good name, Roger? you are a fine pander indeed.
Rog. I tell you, Madonna Fingerlock, I am not sad for nothing, I ha’ not eaten one good meal this three and thirty days: I had wont to get sixteen pence by fetching a pottle of hippocras; but now those days are past. We had as good doings, Madonna Fingerlock, she within doors, and I without, as any poor young couple in Milan.
Mis. F. God’s my life, and is she changed now?
Rog. I ha’ lost by her squeamishness, more than would have builded twelve bawdy-houses.
Mis. F. And had she no time to turn honest but now? what a vile woman is this! twenty pound a-night, I’ll be sworn, Roger, in good gold and no silver: why here was a time! if she should ha’ picked out a time, it could not be better: gold enough stirring; choice of men, choice of hair, choice of beards, choice of legs, and choice of every, every, everything: it cannot sink into my head, that she should be such an ass. Roger, I never believe it.
Rog. Here she comes now.
Enter Bellafront.
Mis. F. O sweet madonna, on with your loose gown, your felt[189] and your feather, there’s the sweetest, properest,[190] gallantest gentleman at my house; he smells all of musk and ambergris his pocket full of crowns, flame-coloured doublet, red satin hose, carnation silk stockings, and a leg, and a body,— oh!
Bell. Hence thou, our sex’s monster, poisonous bawd,
Lust’s factor, and damnation’s orator.
Gossip of hell! were all the harlots’ sins
Which the whole world contains, numbered together,
Thine far exceeds them all: of all the creatures
That ever were created, thou art basest.
What serpent would beguile thee of thy office?
It is detestable: for thou livest
Upon the dregs of harlots, guard’st the door,
Whilst couples go to dancing: O coarse devil!
Thou art the bastard’s curse, thou brand’st his birth;
The lecher’s French disease: for thou dry-suck’st him;
The harlot’s poison, and thine own confusion.
Mis. F. Marry come up, with a pox, have you nobody to rail against, but your bawd now?
Bell. And you, knave pander, kinsman to a bawd.
Rog. You and I, madonna, are cousins.
Bell. Of the same blood and making, near allied;
Thou, that art slave to sixpence, base metalled villain!
Rog. Sixpence? nay, that’s not so: I never took under two shillings four-pence; I hope I know my fee.
Bell. I know not against which most to inveigh:
For both of you are damned so equally.
Thou never spar’st for oaths, swear’st any thing,
As if thy soul were made of shoe-leather:
“God damn me, gentleman, if she be within!”
When in the next room she’s found dallying.
Rog. If it be my vocation to swear, every man in his vocation: I hope my betters swear and damn themselves, and why should not I?
Bell. Roger, you cheat kind gentlemen.
Rog. The more gulls they.
Bell. Slave, I cashier thee.
Mis. F. An you do cashier him, he shall be entertained.
Rog. Shall I? then blurt[191] a’ your service.
Bell. As hell would have it, entertained by you!
I dare the devil himself to match those two. [Exit.
Mis. F. Marry gup, are you grown so holy, so pure, so honest with a pox?
Rog. Scurvy honest punk! but stay, madonna, how must our agreement be now? for, you know, I am to have all the comings-in at the hall-door, and you at the chamber-door.
Mis. F. True Roger except my vails.
Rog. Vails? what vails?
Mis. F. Why as thus; if a couple come in a coach, and light to lie down a little, then, Roger, that’s my fee, and you may walk abroad; for the coachman himself is their pander.
Rog. Is ’a so? in truth I have almost forgot, for want of exercise. But how if I fetch this citizen’s wife to that gull, and that madonna to that gallant, how then?
Mis. F. Why then, Roger, you are to have sixpence a lane; so many lanes, so many sixpences.
Rog. Is’t so? then I see we two shall agree, and live together.
Mis. F. Ay, Roger, so long as there be any taverns and bawdy-houses in Milan. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Chamber in Bellafront’s House.
Bellafront discovered sitting with a lute; pen, ink, and paper on a table before her.
Bell. [Sings.]
The courtier’s flattering jewels,
Temptations only fuels,
The lawyer’s ill-got moneys,
That suck up poor bees’ honeys:
The citizen’s sons riot,
The gallant’s costly diet:
Silks and velvets, pearls and ambers,
Shall not draw me to their chambers.
Silks and velvets, &c. [She writes.
Oh, ’tis in vain to write! it will not please;
Ink on this paper would ha’ but presented
The foul black spots that stick upon my soul,
And rather made me loathsomer, than wrought
My love’s impression in Hippolito’s thought:
No, I must turn the chaste leaves of my breast,
And pick out some sweet means to breed my rest.
Hippolito, believe me I will be
As true unto thy heart, as thy heart to thee,
And hate all men, their gifts and company!
Enter Matheo, Castruchio, Fluello, and Pioratto.
Mat. You, goody punk, subaudi cockatrice, oh you’re a sweet whore of your promise, are you not, think you? how well you came to supper to us last night; mew, a whore, and break her word! nay, you may blush, and hold down your head at it well enough. ’Sfoot, ask these gallants if we stayed not till we were as hungry as sergeants.
Flu. Ay, and their yeomen too.
Cas. Nay, faith, acquaintance, let me tell you, you forgat yourself too much: we had excellent cheer, rare vintage, and were drunk after supper.
Pio. And when we were in, our woodcocks,[192] sweet rogue, a brace of gulls, dwelling here in the city, came in, and paid all the shot.
Mat. Pox on her! let her alone.
Bell. Oh, I pray do, if you be gentlemen:
I pray, depart the house: beshrew the door
For being so easily entreated! faith,
I lent but little ear unto your talk;
My mind was busied otherwise, in troth,
And so your words did unregarded pass:
Let this suffice,—I am not as I was.
Flu. I am not what I was? no, I’ll be sworn thou art not: for thou wert honest at five, and now thou’rt a punk at fifteen: thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now thou’rt a cunning, cony-catching baggage to day.
Bell. I’ll say I’m worse; I pray, forsake me then:
I do desire you leave me, gentlemen.
And leave yourselves: O be not what you are,
Spendthrifts of soul and body!
Let me persuade you to forsake all harlots,
Worse than the deadliest poisons, they are worse:
For o’er their souls hangs an eternal curse.
In being slaves to slaves, their labours perish;
They’re seldom blest with fruit; for ere it blossoms,
Many a worm confounds it.
They have no issue but foul ugly ones,
That run along with them, e’en to their graves:
For, ’stead of children, they breed rank diseases,
And all you gallants can bestow on them,
Is that French infant, which ne’er acts, but speaks:
What shallow son and heir, then, foolish gallants,
Would waste all his inheritance, to purchase
A filthy, loathed disease? and pawn his body
To a dry evil: that usury’s worst of all,
When th’ interest will eat out the principal.
Mat. ’Sfoot, she gulls ’em the best! this is always her fashion, when she would be rid of any company that she cares not for, to enjoy mine alone. [Aside.
Flu. What’s here? instructions, admonitions, and caveats? Come out, you scabbard of vengeance.
Mat. Fluello, spurn your hounds when they fist, you shall not spurn my punk, I can tell you: my blood is vexed.
Flu. Pox a’ your blood: make it a quarrel.
Mat. You’re a slave! will that serve turn?
Pio. ’Sblood, hold, hold!
Cas. Matheo, Fluello, for shame, put up!
Mat. Spurn my sweet varlet?
Bell. O how many thus
Moved with a little folly, have let out
Their souls in brothel-houses! fell down and died
Just at their harlot’s foot, as ’twere in pride.
Flu. Matheo, we shall meet.
Mat. Ay, ay; any where, saving at church:
Pray take heed we meet not there.
Flu. Adieu, damnation!
Cas. Cockatrice, farewell!
Pio. There’s more deceit in women, than in hell. [Exeunt Castruchio, Fluello and Pioratto.
Mat. Ha, ha, thou dost gull ’em so rarely, so naturally! If I did not think thou hadst been in earnest: thou art a sweet rogue for’t i’faith.
Bell. Why are not you gone too, Signor Matheo?
I pray depart my house: you may believe me,
In troth, I have no part of harlot in me.
Mat. How’s this?
Bell. Indeed, I love you not: but hate you worse
Than any man, because you were the first
Gave money for my soul: you brake the ice,
Which after turned a puddle; I was led
By your temptation to be miserable:
I pray, seek out some other that will fall,
Or rather, I pray seek out none at all.
Mat. Is’t possible to be impossible! an honest whore! I have heard many honest wenches turn strumpets with a wet finger,[193] but for a harlot to turn honest is one of Hercules’ labours. It was more easy for him in one night to make fifty queans, than to make one of them honest again in fifty years. Come, I hope thou dost but jest.
Bell. ’Tis time to leave off jesting, I had almost
Jested away salvation: I shall love you,
If you will soon forsake me.
Mat. God be with thee!
Bell. O tempt no more women! shun their weighty curse;
Women, at best, are bad, make them not worse.
You gladly seek our sex’s overthrow:
But not to raise our states. For all your wrongs,
Will you vouchsafe me but due recompense,
To marry with me?
Mat. How! marry with a punk, a cockatrice, a harlot? maarr, faugh, I’ll be burnt through the nose first.
Bell. Why, la, these are your oaths! you love to undo us,
To put Heaven from us, whilst our best hours waste;
You love to make us lewd, but never chaste.
Mat. I’ll hear no more of this, this ground upon,
Thou’rt damned for altering thy religion. [Exit.
Bell. Thy lust and sin speak so much: go thou, my ruin,
The first fall my soul took! By my example
I hope few maidens now will put their heads
Under men’s girdles; who least trusts is most wise:
Men’s oaths do cast a mist before our eyes.
My best of wit, be ready! Now I go,
By some device to greet Hippolito.
