ACTUS II., SCÆNA 1.
Enter Oliver Small-Shanks, Thomas Small-Shanks.
O. Small. Is this the place you were appointed to meet him?
T. Small. So Boutcher sent me word.
O. Small. I find it true,
That wine, good news, and a young wholesome wench
Cheer up an old man's blood. I tell thee, boy,
I am right hearty glad to hear thy brother
Hath got so great an heir: now were myself
So well bestow'd, I should rejoice, i' faith.
T. Small. I hope you shall do well.
O. Small. No doubt, no doubt;
Ah, sirrah! has a' borne the wench away!
My son, i' faith, my very son, i' faith!
When I was young, and had an able back,
And wore the bristle on my upper-lip,
In good decorum I had as good conveyance,
And could have ferk'd, and ferk'd y' away a wench,
As soon as e'er a man alive. Tut, boy,
I had my winks, my becks, treads on the toe,
Wrings by the fingers, smiles, and other quirks—
No courtier like me; your courtiers all are fools,
To that which I could do. I could have done it, boy,
Even to a hair, and that some ladies know.
T. Small. Sir, I am glad this match may reconcile
Your love unto my brother.
O. Small. O, 'tis more than so. [Yet]
I'll seem offended still, though I am glad [Aside.
Enter William Small-Shanks, Frances, Beard, booted.
H' has got rich Sommerfield's heir,
W. Small. Come, wench of gold!
For thou shalt get me gold, besides odd ends
Of silver: we'll purchase house and land
By thy bare gettings, wench, by thy bare gettings.
How say'st, Lieutenant Beard; does she not look
Like a wench newly stole from a window?
Beard. Exceeding well she carries it, by Jove;
And if she can forbear her rampant tricks,
And but hold close a while, 'twill take, by Mars.
Fran. How now, you slave? my rampant tricks, you rogue!
Nay, fear not me: my only fear is still,
Thy filthy face betrays us; for all men know,
Thy nose stands compass like a bow,
Which is three quarters drawn; thy head
Which is with greasy hair o'erspread,
And being uncurl'd and black as coal,
Doth show some scullion in a hole
Begot thee on a gipsy, or
Thy mother was some collier's whore:
My rampant tricks, you rogue! thou'lt be descried,
Before our plot be ended.
W. Small. What should descry him,
Unless it be his nose? and as for that,
Thou may'st protest he was thy father's butler,
And for thy love is likewise run away.
Nay, sweet lieutenant, now forbear to puff,
And let the bristles of thy beard grow downward:
Reverence my punk, and pandarise a little,
There's many of thy rank that do profess it,
Yet hold it no disparagement.
Beard. I shall do
What fits an honest man.
W. Small. Why, that's enough:
'Foot, my father and the goose my brother:—
Back you two.—
Beard. Back.
[Enter William and Oliver Small-Shanks.]
W. Small. Retire, sweet lieutenant,
And come not on till I shall wave you on.
O. Small. Is not that he?
T. Small. 'Tis he.
O. Small. But where's the wench![351]
W. Small. It shall be so, I'll cheat him, that's flat.
O. Small. You are well met: know ye me, good sir?
Belike you think I have no eyes, no ears,
No nose to smell, and wind out all your tricks,
Y' have stole Sir Sommerfield's heir: nay, we can find
Your wildest parts, your turnings and returns,
Your traces, squats, the mussers, forms, and holes[352]
You young men use, if once our sagest wits
Be set a-hunting. Are you now crept forth?
Have you hid your head within a suburb-hole
All this while, and are you now crept forth?
W. Small. 'Tis a stark lie.
O. Small. How?
W. Small. Who told you so did lie;
'Foot! a gentleman cannot leave the city,
And keep the suburbs to take a little physic,
But straight some slave will say he hides his head.
I hide my head within a suburb-hole!
I could have holes at court to hide my head,
Were I but so dispos'd.
O. Small. Thou varlet knave,
Th' hast stolen away Sir John Sommerfield's heir;
But never look for countenance from me,
Carry her whither thou wilt.
W. Small. Father, father,
Heart! will you undo your posterity?
Will you, sir, undo your posterity?
I can but kill my brother, then hang myself,
And where is then your house? Make me not despair,
'Foot, now I have got a wench, worth by the year
Two thousand pound and upwards, to cross my hopes!
Would e'er a clown in Christendom do't but you?
T. Small. Good father, let him leave this thundering,
And give him grace.
W. Small. Why, la, my brother knows
Reason, and what an honest man should do.
O. Small. Well, where's your wife?
W. Small. She's coming here behind.
O. Small. I'll give her somewhat, though I love not thee.
W. Small. My father, right: I knew you could not hold
Out long with a woman; but give something
Worthy your gift and her acceptance, father.
This chain were excellent, by this good light,
She shall give you as good, if once her lands
Enter Frances and Beard.
Come to my fingering.
O. Small. Peace, knave! what, 's she your wife?
W. Small. That shall be, sir.
O. Small. And what's he?
O. Small. A ruffian knave he is.
W. Small. A ruffian, sir!
By heaven! as tall a man[353] as e'er drew sword,
Not being counted of the damned crew.
He was her father's butler, his name is Beard;
Off with your mask, now shall you find me true,
And that I am a son unto a knight:
This is my father. [To Frances.
O. Small. I am indeed, fair maid;
My style is knight: come, let me kiss your lips.
W. Small. That kiss shall cost your chain.
[Aside.
O. Small. It smacks, i' faith:
I must commend your choice.
Fran. Sir, I have given
A larger venture than true modesty
Will well allow, or your more graver wit Commend.
W. Small. I dare be sworn she has.
O. Small. Not so.
The foolish knave has been accounted wild,
And so have I; but I am now come home,
And so will he.
Fran. I must believe it now.
W. Small. Beg his chain, wench. [Aside.
Beard. Will you cheat your father?
W. Small. Ay, by this light, will I.
O. Small. Nay, sigh not;
For you shall find him loving and me thankful;
And were it not a scandal to my honour
To be consenting to my son's attempt,
You should unto my house: meanwhile, take this
[To Frances.
As pledge and token of my after-love!
[Gives her a chain.
How long since died your father?
Fran. Some six weeks since———
W. Small. We cannot stay to talk, for slaves pursue.
I have a house shall lodge us, till the priest
May make us sure.
O. Small. Well, sirrah, love this woman,
And when you are man and wife, bring her to me:
She shall be welcome.
W. Small. I humbly thank you, sir.
O. Small. I must be gone; I must a-wooing too.
W. Small. Jove and Priapus speed you!
You'll return?
T. Small. Instantly.
[Exeunt Sir Oliver and Thomas Small-Shanks.
W. Small. Why, this came cleanly off,
Give me the chain, you little cockatrice;
Why, this was luck; 'foot! four hundred crowns
Got at a clap! hold still your own, you whore,
And we shall thrive.
Beard. 'Twas bravely fetch'd about.
W. Small. Ay, when will your nose and beard perform as much?
Fran. I am glad he is gone; he put me to the blush
When he did ask me of rich Sommerfield's death.
W. Small. And took not I my cue?[354] was't not good?
Did I not bring you off, you arrant drab,
Without a counter-buff?[355] look who comes here—
[Sings.] And three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men be we-a.[356]
Enter Boutcher and Constantia.
Bout. Still in this vein? I have done you service;
The lawyer's house will give you entertainment,
Bountiful and free.
W. Small. O my second self!
Come, let me buss thy beard, we are all made!
Why art so melancholy, dost want money?
Look, here's gold, and as we pass along,
I'll tell thee how I got it: not a word,
But that she's Sommerfield's heir; my brother
Swallows it with more ease than a Dutchman
Does flap-dragons: he comes; now to my lawyers.
Enter Thomas Small-Shanks.
Kiss my wife, good brother; she is a wench
Was born to make us all.
T. Small. I hope no less,
You are welcome, sister, into these our parts,
As I may say.
Fran. Thanks, gentle brother.
W. Small. Come now to Ram Alley.
There shalt thou lie,
Till I provide a priest.
Bout. O villany!
I think he will gull his whole generation;
I must make one, since 'tis so well begun:
I'll not forsake him, till his hopes be won. [Exeunt.
Enter Throat and two Citizens.
Throat. Then y' are friends?
Both. We are, so please your worship.
Throat. 'Tis well, I am glad: keep your money, for law
Is like a butler's box:[357] while you two strive,
That picks up all your money. You are friends?
Both. We are, so please you, perfect friends.
Throat. Why so.
Now to the next tap-house; there drink down this,
And by the operation of the third pot
Quarrel again, and come to me for law: [Aside.
Fare you well.
Both. The gods conserve your wisdom. [Exeunt Citizens.
Throat. Why so: these are tricks[358] of the long fifteens:[359]
To give counsel, and to take fees on both sides;
To make 'em friends, and then to laugh at them!
Why, this thrives well, this is a common trick.
When men have spent a deal of money in law,
Then lawyers make them friends. I have a trick
To go beyond all these. If Small-shanks come,
And bring rich Somerfield's heir —— I say no more;
But 'tis within this sconce[360] to go beyond them.
Enter Dash.
Dash. Here are gentlemen in haste would speak with you.
Throat. What are they?
Dash. I cannot know them, sir,
They are so wrapp'd in cloaks.
Throat. Have they a woman?
Dash. Yes, sir; but she's mask'd, and in her riding suit.
Throat. Go, make haste, bring them up with reverence.
Who[361] are they, i' faith? h' has brought the wealthy heir?
These stools and cushions stand not handsomely.
Enter William Small-Shanks, Boutcher, Thomas Small-Shanks, Frances, and Beard.
W. Small. Bless thee, Throat.
Throat. Master Small-shanks, welcome.
W. Small. Welcome, love; kiss this gentle woman, Throat.
Throat. Your worship shall command me.
W. Small. Art not weary?
Bout. Can you blame her, since she has rid so hard?
Throat. You are welcome, gentlemen. Dash!
Dash. Sir.
Throat. A fire in the great chamber quickly.
W. Small. Ay, that's well-said; we are almost weary.
But, Master Throat, if any come to inquire
For me, my brother, or this gentlewoman,
We are not here, nor have you heard of us.
Throat. Not a word, sir; here you are as safe
As in your father's house.
T. Small. And he shall thank you.
W. Small. Th' art not merry, love? Good Master Throat,
Bid this gentlewoman welcome: she is one,
Of whom you may receive some courtesy
In time.
Throat. She is most hearty welcome.
Wilt please you walk into another room,
Where is both bed and fire?
W. Small. Ay, ay, that, that.
Good brother, lead her in: Master Throat and I
Will follow instantly. Now, Master Throat,
[Exeunt Thomas Small-Shanks, Frances, and Beard.
It rests within your power to pleasure me:
Know that this same is Sir John Sommerfield's heir;
Now if she chance to question what I am,
Say, son unto a lord: I pray thee, tell her
I have a world of land, and stand in hope
To be created baron; for I protest
I was constrain'd to swear it forty times,
And yet she'll scarce believe me.
Throat. Pauca sapienti:
Let me alone to set you out in length
And breadth.
W. Small. I prythee, do't effectually;
Shalt have a quarter share, by this good light,
In all she has. I prythee, forget not
To tell her the Small-shanks have been dancers,
Tilters, and very ancient courtiers,
And in request at court since Sir John Short-hose
With his long silk stockings was beheaded.
Wilt thou do this?
Throat. Refer it to my care.
W. Small. Excellent! I'll but shift my boots, and then
Go seek a priest; this night I will be sure.
If we be sure, it cannot be undone;
Can it, Master Throat?
Throat. O, sir, not possible;
You have many precedents and book-cases for't,
Be you but sure, and then let me alone.
Vivat Rex, currat Lex; and I'll defend you.
W. Small. Nay, then, hang care: come, let's in.
[Exit William Small-Shanks.
Throat. Ha, ha!
Have you stole her? fallere fallentem non est fraus.
It shall go hard but I will strip you, boy:
You stole the wench, but I must her enjoy. [Exit.
Enter Mistress Taffata and Adriana, below.
Taf. Come, Adriana, tell me what thou think'st.
I am tickled with conceit of marriage,
And whom think'st thou for me the fittest husband?
What say'st thou to young Boutcher?
Adri. A pretty fellow;
But that his back is weak.
Taf. What dost thou say
To Throat the lawyer?
Adri. I like that well,
Were the rogue a lawyer; but he is none.
He never was of any inn-of-court,
But [of an] inn-of-chancery, where a' was known
But only for a swaggering whiffler,
To keep out rogues and prentices: I saw him,
When he was stock'd for stealing the cook's fees.
A lawyer I could like, for 'tis a thing
Used by your citizens' wives. Your husband's dead:
To get French hoods you straight must lawyers wed.
Taf. What say'st thou then to nimble Sir
Oliver Small-shanks?
Adri. Faith, he must hit the hair; a fellow fit
To make a pretty cuckold. Take an old man:
'Tis now the newest fashion: better be
An old man's darling than a young man's warling.[362]
Take me the old brisk knight: the fool is rich,
And will be strong enough to father children,
Though not to get them.
Taf. 'Tis true: he is the man.
Yet will I bear some dozen more in hand,[363]
And make them all my gulls.
Adri. Mistress, stand aside.
Enter Boutcher and Constantia.
Young Boutcher comes: let me alone to touch him.
Bout. This is the house.
Con. And that's the chamber-maid.
Bout. Where's the widow, gentle Adriana?
Adri. The widow, sir, is not to be spoken to.
Bout. Not spoke to? I must speak with her.
Adri. Must you?
Come you with authority, or do you come
To sue her with a warrant, that you must speak with her?
Bout. I would entreat it.
Adri. O, you would entreat it?
May not I serve your turn? may not I unfold
Your secrets to my mistress? Love is your suit?
Bout. It is, fair creature.
Adri. And why did you fall off,
When you perceived my mistress was so coming?[364]
D' you think she is still the same?
Bout. I do.
Adri. Why so!
I took you for a novice: and I must think
You know not yet the inwards of a woman.
Do you not know that women are like fish,
Which must be struck, when they are prone to bite,
Or all your labour's lost? But, sir, walk here;
And I'll inform my mistress your desires. [Exit.
Con. Master.
Bout. Boy.
Con. Come not you for love?
Bout. I do, boy.
Con. And you would have the widow?
Bout. I would.
Con. By Jove,
I never saw one go about his business
More untowardly: why, sir, do not you know,
That he which would be inward[365] with the mistress,
Must make a way first through the waiting-maid?
If you will know the widow's affections,
Feel first the waiting gentlewoman; do it, master:
Some half a dozen kisses were not lost
Upon this gentlewoman; for you must know,
These waiting-maids are to their mistresses,
Like porches unto doors; you pass the one,
Before you can have entrance at the other.
Or like your mustard to your piece of brawn,
If you'll have one taste well, you must not scorn
To be dipping in the other. I tell you, master.
'Tis not a few men's tales which they prefer
Unto their mistresses in compass of a year.
Be rul'd by me; untruss yourself to her,
Out with all your lovesick thoughts to her,
Kiss her, and give her an angel to buy pins,
And this shall sooner win her mistress' love,
Than all your protestations, sighs, and tears.
Enter Taffata and Adriana.
Here they come. To her boldly, master.
Do, but dally not; that's the widow's phrase.[366]
Bout. Most worthy fair, such is the power of love,
That now I come t'accept your proffer'd grace;
And with submissive thoughts t'entreat a pardon
For my so gross neglect.
Taf. There's no offence;
My mind is changed.
Adri. I told you as much before.
Con. With a hey-pass—with a repass.[367] [Aside.
Bout. Dearest of women!
The constant virtue of your nobler mind
Speaks in your looks: nor can you entertain
Both love and hate at once.
Taf. 'Tis all in vain.
Adri. You strive against the stream.
Con. Fee the waiting-maid, master! [Whispers.
Bout. Stand thou propitious; endear me to my love.
[Boutcher gives Adriana his purse secretly.
Adri. Dear mistress, turn to this gentleman;
I protest
I have some feeling of his constant love.
Cast him not away; try his love.
Taf. Why, sir,
With what audacious front can you entreat
To enjoy my love, which yet not two hours since
You scornfully refus'd?
Con. Well fare the waiting-maid. [Aside.
Bout. My fate compell'd me; but now farewell, fond fear:
My soul, my life, my lands, and reputation—
I'll hazard all, and prize them all beneath thee.
Taf. Which I shall put to trial; lend me thy ear.
[They talk apart.
Adri. Can you love, boy?
Con. Yes.
Adri. What or whom?
Con. My victuals.
Adri. A pretty knave, i' faith! come home tonight,
Shalt have a posset and candied eringoes.
A bed, if need be, too: I love, a' [my] life,
To play with such baboons as thou.
Con. Indeed!
But dost thou think the widow will have my master?
Adri. I'll tell thee then: wo't come?
Con. I will.
Adri. Remember!
Taf. Will you perform so much?
Bout. Or lose my blood.
Taf. Make him subscribe it; and then I vow,
By sacred Vesta's ever-hallowed fire,
To take thee to my bed.
Bout. Till then, farewell.
Taf. He's worthy love, whose virtues most excel.
Adri. Remember! [to Con.] What, is't a match betwixt you, mistress?
[Exit Boutcher and Constantia.
Taf. I have set the fool in hope: h' has undertook
To rid me of that fleshly Captain Face;
Which swears in taverns and all ordinaries
I am his lawful wife. He shall allay
The fury of the captain, and I (secure)
Will laugh at the disgrace they both endure. [Exeunt.
Enter Throat and Frances.
Throat. Open your case, and I shall soon resolve you.
Fran. But will you do it, truly?
Throat. As I am honest.
Fran. This gentleman, whom I so much affect,
I scarce yet do know; so blind is love
In things which most concerns it. As y' are honest,
Tell me his birth, his state, and farthest hopes.
Throat. He is my friend, and I will speak him truly.
He is by birth son to a foolish knight;
His present state, I think, will be the prison,
And farthest hope, to be bail'd out again
By sale of all your land.
Fran. O me accurs'd!
Has he no credit, lands, and manors?
Throat. That land he has lies in a fair churchyard;
And for his manners, they are so rude and vile,
That scarce an honest man will keep him company.
Fran. I am abus'd, cosen'd, and deceived.
Throat. Why, that's his occupation: he will cheat
In a cloak lin'd with velvet: he will prate
Faster than five barbers and a tailor;
Lie faster than ten city occupiers[368]
Or cunning tradesmen: goes a-trust
In every tavern, where h' has spent a fagot;
Swears love to every whore, squires bawds,
And takes up houses for them as their husband:
He is a man I love, and have done much
To bring him to preferment.
Fran. Is there no trust, no honesty in men?
Throat. Faith, some there is,
And 'tis all in the hands of us lawyers
And women: and those women which have it,
Keep their honesty so close, that not one
Amongst a hundred is perceiv'd to have it.
Fran. Good sir, may I not by law forsake him,
And wed another, though my word be pass'd
To be his wife?
Throat. O, questionless, you may!
You have many precedents and bookcases for't:
Nay, though you were married by a bookcase
Of Millesimo sexcentessimo, &c.
You may forsake your husband, and wed another,
Provided that some fault be in the husband,
As none of them are clear.
Fran. I am resolv'd.
I will not wed him, though I beg my bread.
Throat. All that I have is yours; and were I worthy
To be your husband———
Fran. I thank you, sir;
I will rather wed a most perfidious Red-shanks
A noted Jew, or some mechanic slave,
Than let him joy my sheets.
Throat. He comes, he comes.
Enter W. Small-Shanks, Boutcher, T. Small-Shanks, Beard.
W. Small. Now, my virago, 'tis done: all's cock-sure.
I have a priest will mumble up a marriage
Without bell, book, or candle:[369] a nimble slave,
An honest Welshman, that was a tailor,
But now is made a curate.
Beard. Nay, y' are fitted.
Bout. Now, Master Throat.
T. Small. Where's your spirit, sister?
W. Small. What, all amort?[370] what's the matter? do you hear?
Bout. What's the reason of this melancholy?
Throat. By heaven, I know not?
W. Small. Has the gudgeon bit? [Aside.
Fran. He has been nibbling. [Aside.
W. Small. Hold him to it, wench,
And it will hit, by heaven. [Aside.] Why art so sad?
'Foot, wench, we will be married to-night,
We'll sup at th' Mitre, and from thence
My brother and we three will to the Savoy;
Which done, I tell thee, girl, we'll, hand o'er head,
Go to it pell-mell for a maidenhead.
Come, you are lusty: you wenches are like bells,
You give no music till you feel the clapper.
Come, Throat: a torch. We must be gone. [Exit.
Fran. Servant.
Beard. Mistress.
Fran. We are undone.
Beard. Now Jove forfend![371]
Fran. This fellow has no land; and which is worse,
He has no credit.
Beard. How! are we outstripp'd?
Blown up by wit of man? Let us be gone
Home again, home again: our market now is done.
Fran. That were too great a scandal.
Throat. Most true!
Better to wed another, than to return
With scandal and defame: wed me a man,
Whose wealth may reconcile your mother's love.
And make the action lawful.
Beard. But where's the man?
I like your counsel, could you show the man.
Throat. Myself am he, might I but dare aspire
Unto so high a fortune.
Beard. Mistress, take the man:
Shall we be baffled with fair promises.
Or shall we trudge like beggars back again?
No, take this wise and virtuous man
Who, should he lose his legs, his arms, his ears,
His nose, and all his other members,
Yet if his tongue be left, 'twill get his living.
Take me this man.
Throat. Thanks, gentle Master Beard.
Fran. 'Tis impossible; this night he means to wed me.
Throat. If not by law, we will with pow'r prevent it,
So you but give consent.
Fran. Let's hear the means.
Throat. I'll muster up my friends, and thus I cast it:[372]
Whilst they are busy, you and I will hence
Directly to a chapel, where a priest
Shall knit the nuptial knot, ere they pursue us.
Beard. O rare invention! I will act my part;
He owes me thirteen pound, I say no more,
But there be catchpoles [Aside]; speak, is't a match?[373]
Fran. I give my liking.
Throat. Dash!
Dash. Sir.
Throat. Get your sword,
[Exeunt Frances and Beard.
And me my buckler: nay, you shall know
We are Tam Marti quam Mercurio.
Bring my cloak: you shall thither: I'll for friends.
Worship and wealth the lawyer's state attends.
Dash, we must bear some brain[374] to Saint John's Street,
Go, run, fly: and afar off inquire,
If that the Lady Sommerfield be there,
If there, know what news; and meet me straight
At the Mitre door,[375] in Fleet Street. Away!
"To get rich wives, men must not use delay."