ACTUS III., SCÆNA 1.
Enter Sir Oliver Small-Shanks, Justice Tutchin.
Jus. Tut. A-hunting, Sir Oliver, and dry-foot too!
O. Small. We old men have our crotchets, our conundrums.
Our figaries, quirks, and quibbles,
As well as youth. Justice Tutchin, I go
To hunt no buck, but prick a lusty doe.
I go, in truth, a-wooing.
Jus. Tut. Then ride with me,
I'll bring you to my sister Sommerfield.
O. Small. Justice, not so; by her there hangs a tale.
Jus. Tut. That's true indeed.
O. Small. She has a daughter.
Jus. Tut. And what of that?
O. Small. I likewise have a son,
A villanous boy, his father up and down;[376]
What should I say? these velvet-bearded boys
Will still be doing, say what we old men can.
Jus. Tut. And what of this, Sir Oliver? be plain.
O. Small. A nimble-spirited knave, the villain boy
Has one trick of his sire, has got the wench,
Stol'n your rich sister's heir.
Jus. Tut. Sommerfield's heir?
O. Small. Has done the deed, has pierc'd the vessel's head,
And knows by this the vintage.
Jus. Tut. When should this be?
O. Small. As I am by my counsel well-informed,
This very day.
Jus. Tut. Tut, it cannot be,
Some ten miles hence I saw the maid last night.
O. Small. Maids may be maids to-night, and not to-morrow.
Women are free, and sell their maidenheads,
As men sell cloth by yard and handful;
But if you chance to see your sister widow,
Comfort her tears, and say her daughter's match'd
With one that has a knocker to his father—
An honest, noble knight.
Jus. Tut. Stand close, knight, close,
And mark this captain's humour. His name is Puff.
He dreams as he walks, and thinks no woman
Enter Captain Puff.
Sees, him, but is in love with him.
Puff. 'Twere brave,
If some great lady through a window spied me,
And straight should love me. Say, she should send
Five thousand pound unto my lodging,
And crave my company! with that money
I would make three several cloaks, and line them
With black, crimson, and tawny three-pil'd velvet;
I would eat at Chare's ordinary, and dice
At Antony's: then would I keep my whore
In beaten velvet, and have two slaves to tend her.
O. Small. Ha, ha, ha!
Puff. What, my case of Justices?
What, are you eavesdropping? or do you think
Your tawny coats with greasy facings here
Shall carry it? Sir Oliver Small-shanks,
Know my name is Puff, knight; thee have I sought
To fright thee from thy wits.
Jus. Tut. Nay, good Sir Puff,
We have too many madmen already.
Puff. How? I tell thee, Justice Tutchin, not all
Thy bailiffs, serjeants, busy constables,
Defeasants, warrants, or thy mittimuses,
Shall save his throat from cutting, if he presume
To woo the widow yclipped[377] Taffata:
She is my wife by oath. Therefore, take heed:
Let me not catch thee in the widow's house:
If I do, I'll pick thy head upon my sword,
And piss in thy very visnomy; beware, beware!
Come there no more; a captain's word
Flies not so fierce as doth his fatal sword. [Exit Puff.
O. Small. How like you this? shall we endure this thunder,
Or go no further?
Jus. Tut. We will on, Sir Oliver,
We will on; let me alone to touch him.
I wonder how my spirit did forbear
To strike him on the face: had this been spoke
Within my liberties, h' had died for it.
Re-enter Captain Puff.
O. Small. I was about to draw.
Puff. If you come there,
Thy beard shall serve to stuff those balls, by which
I get me heat at tennis.
Jus. Tut. Is he gone? [Exit Puff.
I would he durst ha' stood to this a while.
Well, I shall catch him in a narrow room,
Where neither of us can flinch: if I do,
I'll make him dance-a trenchmoor[378] to my sword.
Come, I'll along with you to the widow.
We will not be outbraved, take my word,
We'll not be wrong'd, while I can draw a sword. [Exeunt.
Enter Throat and two other Gentlemen.
Throat. Let the coach stay at Shoe Lane end; be ready.
Let the boot stand open; and when she's in,
Hurry towards Saint Giles's in the Fields,
As if the devil himself were waggoner.
Now for an arm of oak and heart of steel,
To bear away the wench, to get a wife,
A gentlewoman, a maid—nay, which is more,
An honest maid and, which is most of all,
A rich and honest maid: O Jove! O Jove!
For a man to wed such a wife as this
Is to dwell in the suburbs of heaven.
1st Gent. Is she so exquisite?
Throat. Sir, she is rich,
And a great heir.
2d Gent. 'Tis the more dangerous.
Throat. Dangerous? Lord! where be those gallant spirits?
The time has been, when scarce an honest woman,
Much less a wench, could pass an inn-of-court,
But some of the fry would have been doing
With her. I knew the day, when Shreds, a tailor,
Coming once late by an inn-of-chancery,
Was laid along, and muffled in his cloak,
His wife took in, stitch'd-up, turn'd out again,
And he persuaded all was but in jest.
Tut, those brave boys are gone; these which are left
Are wary lads, live poring on their books,
And give their linen to their laundresses;
By tail they now can save their purses:[379]
I knew, when every gallant had his man,
But now a twelvepenny weekly laundress
Will serve the turn to half a dozen of them.
Enter Dash.
Here comes my man; what news?
Dash. As you would wish;
The Lady Sommerfield is come to town.
Her horses yet are walking, and her men say
Her only daughter is conveyed away—
No man knows how. Now to it, master!
You and your servant Dash are made for ever,
If you but stick to it now.
Throat. Gentlemen,
Now show yourselves at full, and not a man
But shares a fortune with me, if I speed.
Enter William Small-Shanks, Boutcher, Thomas Small-Shanks, Frances, and Beard with a torch.
1st Gent. Tut, fear not us; be sure you run away,
And we'll perform the quarrel.
Throat. Stand close: they come.
W. Small. Art sure he will be here?
Fran. Most sure.
W. Small. Beard.
Beard. Sir.
W. Small. Bear up the torch, and keep your way apace
Directly to the Savoy.
T. Small. Have you a licence?
Look to that, brother, before you marry,
For fear the parson lose his benefice.
W. Small. Tut, our curate craves no licence; he swears
His living came to him by a miracle.
Bout. How by [a] miracle?
W. Small. Why, he paid nothing for't:
He swears that few be free from simony,
But only Welshmen, and those he says, too,
Are but mountain priests.
Bout. But hang him, fool, he lies:
What's his reason?
W. Small. His reason is this;
That all their livings are so rude and bare,
That not a man will venture his damnation
By giving money for them: he does protest,
There is but two pair of hose and shoes
In all his parish.
1st Gent. Hold up your light, sir.
Beard. Shall I be taught how to advance my torch?
W. Small. What's the matter, lieutenant?
2d Gent. Your lieutenant's an ass.
Beard. How, an ass? die, men, like dogs?[380] [Draws.
W. Small. Hold, gentlemen.
Beard. An ass! an ass!
Throat. Hold, brother, hold! lieutenant.
Put up, as you are men; your wife is gone.
W. Small. Gone?
Bout. Gone.
W. Small. How? which way? this is some plot.
T. Small. Down toward Fleet Bridge.
All. Follow, follow, follow!
1st Gent. So has the wench; let us pursue aloof,[381]
And see the event. This will prove good mirth,
When things unshap'd shall have a perfect birth. [Exit.
Enter William Small-Shanks, Boutcher, Thomas Small-Shanks, and Beard, their swords drawn.
W. Small. 'Tis a thing impossible they should be gone
Thus far, and we not see them.
T. Small. Upon my life,
They went in by the Greyhound, and so struck
Into Bridewell.
Bout. What should she make there?
T. Small. Take water at the dock.
Beard. Water at dock!
A fico for her dock! you'll not be rul'd,
You'll still be obstinate, I'll pawn my fate,
She took along Shoe Lane, and so went home.
W. Small. Home?
Beard. Ay, home; how could she choose but go,
Seeing so many naked tools at once
Drawn in the street?
T. Small. What scurvy luck was this?
W. Small. Come, we will find her, or we'll fire the suburbs.
Put up your tools; let's first along Shoe Lane,
Then straight up Holborn; if we find her not,
We'll thence direct to Throat's; if she be lost,
I am undone, and all your hopes are cross'd. [Exeunt.
Enter Sir Oliver Small-Shanks, Justice Tutchin, Mistress Taffata, Adriana.
O. Small. Widow, I must be short.
Jus. Tut. Sir Oliver,
Will you shame yourself, ha? you must be short!
Why, what a word was that to tell a widow?
O. Small. I meant I must be brief.
Jus. Tut. Why say so, then,
Yet that's almost as ill; go to, speak on.
O. Small. Widow, I must be brief; what old men do,
They must do quickly.
Taf. Then, good sir, do it;
Widows are seldom slow to put men to it.
O. Small. And old men know their cues: my love, you know,
Has been protested long, and now I come
To make my latest tender; an old-grown oak
Can keep you from the rain, and stands as fair
And portly as the best.
Taf. Yet search him well,
And we shall find no pith or hearty timber
To underlay a building. [Aside.
Jus. Tut. I would that oak
Had been a-fire: forward, good Sir Oliver,
Your oak is nought: stick not too much to that.
[Aside.
O. Small. If you can like, you shall be ladyfied,
Live at the court, and soon be got with child.
What, do you think we old men can do nothing?
Jus. Tut. This was somewhat like.
O. Small. You shall have jewels,
A baboon, parrot, and an Iceland[382] dog,
And I myself to bear you company.
Your jointure is five hundred pound by year,
Besides your plate, your chains, and household-stuff,
When envious fate shall change this mortal life.
Taf. But shall I not be overcloy'd with love?
Will you not be too busy? shall I keep
My chamber by the month, if I be pleas'd
To take physic, to send for visitants,
To have my maid read Amadis de Gaul
Or Donzel del Phœbo[383] to me I shall I have
A coach of the last edition—
The coachman's seat a good way from the coach,
That, if some other ladies and myself
Chance to talk bawdy, he may not o'erhear us?
O. Small. All this, and more.
Taf. Shall we have two chambers?
And will you not presume unto my bed,
Till I shall call you by my waiting-maid?
O. Small. Not I, by heaven!
Taf. And when I send her,
Will you not entice her to your lust,
Nor tumble her, before you come to me?
Adri. Nay, let him do his worst, make your match sure,
And fear not me; I never yet did fear [Aside.
Anything my master could do to me. [Knock.
Taf. What noise is that? go, see, Adriana,
And bring me word: I am so haunted
With a swaggering captain, that swears, God bless us,
Enter Adriana.
Like a very termagant:[384]—a rascal knave,
That says he will kill all men which seek to wed me.
Adri. O mistress! Captain Puff, half-drunk, is now
Coming up-stairs.
O. Small. O God! have you no room
Beyond this chamber? h' has sworn to kill me,
And piss in my very visnomy.
Taf. What, are you afraid, Sir Oliver?
O. Small. Not afraid;
But of all men I love not to meddle with a drunkard:
Have you any room backwards?
Jus. Tut. Is there ne'er a trunk or cupboard for him?
Is there ne'er a hole backwards to hide him in?
Capt. Puff [without]. I must speak with her.
O. Small. O God! he comes!
Adri. Creep under my mistress's farthingale, knight.
That's the best and safest place in the chamber.
Jus. Tut. Ay, there, there—that lie will never mistrust.
Adri. Enter, knight, keep close; gather yourself
Round like a hedgehog; stir not, whate'er you hear
See, or smell, knight. God bless us! here he comes.
Enter Captain Puff.
Capt. Puff. Bless thee, widow and wife.
Taf. Sir, get you gone,
Leave my house, or I will have you conjur'd
With such a spell you never yet have heard of.
Have you no other place to vent your froth
But in my house? is this the fittest place
Your captainship can find to puff in, ha?
Capt. Puff. How? am I not thy spouse? didst thou not say
These arms should clip[385] thy naked body fast
Betwixt two linen sheets, and be sole lord
Of all thy pewter-work? Thy word is pass'd:
And know, that man is powder, dust and earth,
That shall once dare to think thee for his wife!
Taf. How now, you slave? One call the constable.
Capt. Puff. No constable with all his halberdiers
Dare once advance his head or peep up stairs,
If I cry but, keep down: have I not liv'd,
And march'd on sieged walls,
In thunder, lightning, rain, and snow,
And eke in shot of powdered balls,
Whose costly marks are yet to show?
Taf. Captain Puff, for my last husband's sake,
With whom you were so familiarly acquainted,
I am content to wink at these rude tricks;
But hence! trouble me no more; if you do,
I shall lay you fast, where you shall see
No sun or moon.
Capt. Puff. Nor yet the northern pole!
A fico for the sun and moon: let me live in a hole,
So these two stars may shine.
Taf. Sir, get you gone,
You swaggering cheating Turnbull Street[386] rogue,
Or I will hale you to the common gaol,
Where lice shall eat you.
Capt. Puff. Go to, I shall spurn
And flesh[387] your petticoat.
Taf. Run to the Counter,
Fetch me a red-bearded Serjeant:[388] I'll make
You, captain, think the devil of hell is come
To fetch you, if he once fasten on you.
Capt. Puff. Damn thee and thy Serjeants, thou mercer's punk,
Thus will I kick thee and thy farthingales.
[Kicks at her petticoat.]
O. Small. Hold, captain!
Capt. Puff. What, do you cast your whelps?
What, have I found you, sir? have not I plac'd
My sakers, culverings, demi-culverings,
My cannons, demi-cannons, basilisks,
Upon her breach, and do I not stand
Ready with my pike to make my entry,
And are you come to man her?
O. Small. Good captain, hold.
Capt. Puff. Are not her bulwarks, parapets, trenches,
Scarps, counter-scarps,[389] fortifications,
Curtains, shadows, mines, counter-mines,
Rampiers,[390] forts, ditches, works, water-works,
And is not her half-moon mine? and do you bring
A rescue, goodman knight?
Taf. Call up my men.
Enter O. Small, and two or three others with clubs.
Where be these knaves? bare they no ears or hearts?
Bear hence this rascal; some other fetch a warrant:
I'll teach him to know himself.
Jus. Tut. Down with the slave.
O. Small. Tis not your beard shall carry it; down with the rogue.
Capt. Puff. Not Hercules 'gainst twenty.
[Exit Puff.
Jus. Tut. Ah, sirrah!
I knew[391] my hands no longer could forbear him:
Why did you not strike the knave, Sir Oliver?
O. Small. Why, so I did.
Jus. Tut. But then it was too late.
O. Small. What would you have me do, when I was down,
And he stood thundering with his weapon drawn,
Enter Adriana.
Ready to cut my throat?
Adri. The rogue is gone,
And here's one from the lady Sommerfield.
To intreat you come with all the speed you can
To Saint John's Street.
Jus. Tut. Which I will do.
Taf. Gentlemen,
I am sorry you should be thus disturb'd
Within my house; but now all fear is pass'd,
You are most welcome: supper ended,
I'll give a gracious answer to your suit;
Meanwhile, let nought dismay or keep you mute. [Exit.
Enter Throat, Frances, and Dash.
Throat. Pay the coachman, Dash, pay him well,
And thank him for his speed. Now Vivat Rex,
The knot is knit, which not the law itself,
With all his Hydra-heads and strongest nerves.
Is able to disjoin: now let him hang,
Fret out his guts, and swear the stars from heaven—
He never shall enjoy you; you shall be rich.
Your lady-mother this day came to town
In your pursuit: we will but shift some rags,
And straight go take her blessing.
Fran. That must not be;
Furnish me with jewels, and then myself,
Attended by your man and honest Beard,
Will thither first, and with my lady-mother
Crave a peace for you.
Throat. I like that well;
Her anger somewhat calm'd, I brisk and fine,
Some half hour after will present myself
As son-in-law unto her, which she must needs
Accept with gracious looks.
Fran. Ay, when she knows
Before by me, from what an eminent plague
Your wisdom has preserv'd me.
Throat. Ay, that, that—
That will strike it dead. But here comes Beard.
Enter Beard.
Beard. What, are you sure I tied fast by heart and hand?
Throat. I now do call her wife, she now is mine,
Seal'd and deliver'd by an honest priest
At Saint Giles's in the Fields.
Beard. God give you joy, sir.
Throat. But where's mad Small-shanks?
Beard. O, hard at hand,
And almost mad with loss of his fair bride;
Let not my lovely mistress be seen;
And see, if you can draw him to compound
For all his title to her: I have serjeants,
Ready to do the feat, when time shall serve.
Throat. Stand you aside, dear love[392]; nay, I will firk
My silly novice, as he was never firk'd,
Since midwives bound his noddle: here they come.
Enter William Small-Shanks, Thomas Small-Shanks, and Boutcher.
W. Small. O Master Throat, unless you speak good news,
My hopes are cross'd, and I undone for ever!
Throat. I never thought you'd come to other end;
Your courses have been always so profane,
Extravagant and base.
W. Small. Nay, good sir, hear:
Did not my love return? came she not hither?
For Jove's love, speak.
Throat. Sir, will you get you gone,
And seek your love elsewhere? for know, my house
Is not to entertain such customers
As you and your comrades.
W. Small. Is the man mad
Or drunk? Why, Master Throat, know you to whom
You talk so saucily?
Throat. Why, unto you
And to your brother Small-shanks: will you be gone?
Bout. Nay, good sir, hold us not in this suspense;
Answer directly: came not the virgin hither?
Throat. Will you be gone directly? are you mad?
Come you to seek a virgin in Ram-Alley,
So near an inn-of-court, and amongst cooks,
Ale-men, and laundresses? why, are you fools?
W. Small. Sir, leave this firk of law, or, by this light,
I'll give your throat a slit. Came she not hither?
Answer to that point.
Throat. What, have you lost her?
Come, do not gull your friends.
W. Small. By heaven, she's gone,
Unless she be return'd since we last left you.
Throat. Nay, then, I cry you mercy; she came not hither,
As I am an honest man: is't possible,
A maid so lovely fair, so well-demean'd,
Should be took from you? what, you three—
So young, so brave, and valiant gentlemen—
Sure, it cannot be!
T. Small. Afore God, 'tis true.
W. Small. To our perpetual shame, 'tis now too true.
Throat. Is she not left behind you in the tavern?
Are you sure you brought her out? were you not drunk,
And so forgot her?
W. Small. A pox on all such luck!
I will find her, or, by this good light,
I'll fire all the city. Come, let's go:
Whoever has her shall not long enjoy her,
I'll prove a contract; let us walk the round.
I'll have her, if she keep above the ground. [Exit.
Throat. Ha, ha, ha! he makes me sport, i' faith.
The gull is mad, stark-mad. Dash, draw the bond,
And a release of all his interest
In this my loved wife.
Beard. Ay, be sure of that,
For I have certain goblins in buff jerkins[393]
Re-enter William Small-Shanks with the Serjeants.
Lie in ambuscado for him.
Officer. I arrest you, sir.
W. Small. Rescue! rescue!
Throat. O, he is caught.
W. Small. I'll give you bail:
Hang off, honest catchpoles. Master Throat, good, wise,
Learned and honest Master Throat, now, now—
Now or never, help me.
Throat. What's the matter?
W. Small. Here are two retainers, hangers-on, sir,
Which will consume more than ten liveries;
If by your means they be not straight shook off—
I am arrested.
Throat. Arrested! what's the sum?
W. Small. But thirteen pounds, due to Beard the butler:
Do but bail me, and I will save you harmless.
Throat. Why, here's the end of it[394]: I know the law;
If you be bail'd by me, the debt is mine,
Which I will undertake—
W. Small. La[395] there, rogues:
Foot! I knew he would not let me want
For thirteen pounds.
Throat. Provided you seal a release
Of all your claim to Mistress Sommerfield.
W. Small. Serjeants, do your kind: hale me to the hole.
Seal a release? Serjeants, come: to prison!
Seal a release for Mistress Sommerfield?
First I will stink in jail, be eat with lice,
Endure an object worse than the devil himself,
And that's ten Serjeants peeping through the grates
Upon my lousy linen. Come to jail:
Foot, a release!
T. Small. There's no conscience in it.
Bout. 'Tis a demand uncharitable.
Throat. Nay, choose.
Enter Frances.
Fran. I can hold no longer; impudent man—
W. Small. My wife! foot! my wife! let me go, serjeants.
Fran. O thou perfidious man! dar'st thou presume
To call her wife, whom thou so much hast wrong'd?
What conquest hast thou got to wrong a maid,
A silly harmless maid? what glory is't,
That thou hast thus deceived a simple virgin,
And brought her from her friends? what honour was't
For thee to make the butler lose his office,
And run away with thee! Your tricks are known;
Didst thou not swear thou shouldst be baronis'd?
And hadst both lands and fortunes, both which thou want'st?
W. Small. Foot, that's not my fault: I would have lands,
If I could get 'em.
Fran. I know your tricks;
And know I now am wife unto this man.
Omnes. How?
Throat. I thank her, sir, she has now vouchsaf'd
To cast herself on me.
Fran. Therefore subscribe;
Take somewhat of him for a full release,
And pray to God to make you an honest man:
If not, I do protest by earth and heaven,
Although I starve, thou never shalt enjoy me.
Beard. Her vow is pass'd, nor will she break her word;
Look to it, micher.
Fran. I hope he will compound.
W. Small. Foot, shall I give two thousand pounds a year
For nothing?
T. Small. Brother, come: be rul'd by me.
Better to take a little than lose all.
Bout. You see she's resolute; y'had best compound.
W. Small. I'll first be damn'd, ere I will lose my right,
Unless he give me up my forfeit mortgage,
And bail me of this action.
Fran. Sir, you may choose:
What is the mortgage worth?
W. Small. Let's have no whispering.
Throat. Some forty pounds a year.
Fran. Do it, do it.
Come, you shall do it, we will be rid of him
At any rate.
Throat. Dash, go fetch his mortgage. [Exit Dash.
So that your friends be bound, you shall not claim
Title, right, possession, in part or whole,
In time to come, in this my loved wife:
I will restore the mortgage, pay this debt,
And set you free.
W. Small. They shall not.
Bout. We will.
Come, draw the bonds, and we will soon subscribe them.
Enter Dash.
Throat. They're ready-drawn; here's his release:
Serjeants, let him go.
Dash. Here's the mortgage, sir.
W. Small. Was ever man thus cheated of a wife!
Is this my mortgage?
Throat. The very same, sir.
W. Small. Well, I will subscribe. God give you joy,
Although I have but little cause to wish it,
My heart will scarce consent unto my hand.
'Tis done.
Throat. You give this as your deed?
Omnes. We do.
Throat. Certify them, Dash.
W. Small. What! am I free?
Throat. You are: serjeants, I discharge you.
There's your fees.
Beard. Not so; I must have money.
Throat. I'll pass my word.
Beard. Foutre! words are wind:
I say, I must have money.
Throat. How much, sir?
Beard. Three pounds in hand, and all the rest to-morrow.
Throat. There's your sum. Now, officers, be gone,
Each take his way; I must to Saint John's Street,
And see my lady-mother: she's now in town,
And we to her shall straight present our duties.
T. Small. O Jove! shall we lose the wench thus?
W. Small. Even thus.
Throat, farewell: since 'tis thy luck to have her,
I still shall pray you long may live together.
Now each to his affairs.
Throat. Good night to all.
[Exeunt W.S., T.S., and Bout.
Dear wife, step in. Beard and Dash, come hither:
Here take this money: go borrow jewels
Of the next goldsmith: Beard, take thou these books,
Go both to the broker's in Fetter Lane,
Lay them in pawn for a velvet jerkin
And a double ruff: tell him, he shall have
As much for a loan to-night, as I do give
Usury for a whole circuit; which done,
You two shall man her to her mother's: go.
[Exeunt Beard and Dash.
My fate looks big! methinks I see already
Nineteen gold chains, seventeen great beards, and ten
Reverend bald heads, proclaim my way before me.
My coach shall now go prancing through Cheapside,
And not be forc'd to hurry through the streets
For fear of serjeants; nor shall I need to try,
Whether my well-grass'd tumbling foot-cloth nag
Be able to outrun a well-breath'd catch-pole.
I now in pomp will ride, for 'tis most fit,
He should have state, that riseth by his wit. [Exit.