SCENE II.
Enter Harvey, Heigham, and Walgrave.
Heigh. Come, gentlemen, we're almost at the house.
I promise you, this walk o'er Tower-hill,
Of all the places London can afford,
Hath sweetest air, and fitting our desires.
Har. Good reason so, it leads to Crutched Friars,
Where old Pisaro and his daughters dwell.
Look to your feet: the broad way leads to hell.
They say hell stands below, down in the deep,
I'll down that hell, where such good wenches keep
But, sirrah Ned, what says Mathea to thee?
Wilt fadge?[488] wilt fadge? What, will it be a match?
Wal. A match, say you? a mischief 'twill as soon;
For I can scarce begin to speak to her,
But I am interrupted by her father;
"Ha! what say you?" and then puts o'er his snout,
Able to shadow Paul's, it is so great.[489]
Well, 'tis no matter, sirs, this is his house:
Knock for the churl, bid him bring out his daughter;
Ay, 'sblood,[490] I will, though I be hang'd for it.
Heigh. Heyday, heyday! nothing with you but up and ride!
You'll be within, ere you can reach the door!
And have the wench, before you compass her.
You are too hasty: Pisaro is a man,
Not to be fed with words, but won with gold.
But who comes here?
Enter Anthony.
Wal. Whom? Anthony our friend?
Say, man, how fare our loves? how doth Mathea?
Can she love Ned? how doth she like my suit?
Will old Pisaro take me for his son?
For, I thank God, he kindly takes our lands,
Swearing, "Good gentlemen, you shall not want,
Whilst old Pisaro and his credit hold:"
He will be damn'd, the rogue, before he do't!
Har. Prythee, talk milder: let but thee alone,
And thou in one bare hour will ask him more
Than he'll remember in a hundred years.
Come from him, Anthony, and say, what news.
Anth. The news for me is bad; and this it is:
Pisaro hath discharg'd me of his service.
Heigh. Discharg'd thee of his service! for what cause?
Anth. Nothing,
But that his daughters learn philosophy.
Har. Maids should read that; it teacheth modesty.
Anth. Ay, but I left out mediocrity,
And with effectual reasons urged your loves.
Wal. The fault was small: we three will to thy master,
And beg thy pardon.
Anth. O, that cannot be:
He hates you far worse than he hates me;
For all the love he shows is for your lands,
Which he hopes, sure, will fall into his hands.
Yet, gentlemen, this comfort take of me,
His daughters to your loves affected be.
Their father is abroad, they three at home.
Go cheerly in, and seize that is your own.
And, for myself, but grace what I intend:
I'll overreach the churl, and help my friend.
Heigh. Build on our helps, and but devise the means.
Anth. Pisaro did command Frisco his man
(A simple sot, kept only but for mirth),
To inquire about in London for a man
That were a Frenchman and musician,
To be (as I suppose) his daughters' tutor.
Him if you meet, as like enough you shall,
He will inquire of you of his affairs;
Then make him answer, you three came from Paul's,
And in the middle walk one you espied,
Fit for his purpose: then describe this cloak,
This beard and hat; for in this borrowed shape
Must I beguile and overreach the fool.
The maids must be acquainted with this drift.
The door doth ope: I dare not stay reply,
Lest being descried—Gentlemen, adieu,
And help him now, that oft hath helped you. [Exit.
Enter Frisco.
Wal. How now, sirrah, whither are you going?
Fris. Whither am I going? how shall I tell you, when I do not know myself, nor understand myself?
Heigh. What dost thou mean by that?
Fris. Marry, sir, I am seeking a needle in a bottle of hay; a monster in the likeness of a man: one that, instead of good morrow, asketh what porridge you have to dinner? parley-vous. signior? one that never washes his fingers, but licks them clean with kisses; a clipper of the king's English; and, to conclude, an eternal enemy to all good language.
Har. What's this? what's this?
Fris. Do not you smell me? Well, I perceive that wit doth not always dwell in a satin-doublet. Why, 'tis a Frenchman: Basi mon cue, how do you?
Har. I thank you, sir: but tell me what wouldst thou do with a Frenchman?
Fris. Nay, faith, I would do nothing with him, unless I set him to teach parrots to speak. Marry, the old ass, my master, would have him to teach his daughters, though I trust the whole world sees that there be such in his house that can serve his daughters' turn as well as the proudest Frenchman. But if you be good lads, tell me where I may find such a man?
Heigh. We will. Go hie thee straight to Paul's, There shalt thou find one fitting thy desire: Thou soon may'st know him, for his beard is black, And such his raiment[491]: if thou runn'st apace, Thou canst not miss him, Frisco.
Fris. Lord, Lord, how shall poor Frisco reward your rich tidings, gentlemen? I am yours till Shrove-Tuesday, for then change I my copy, and look like nothing but red-herring-cobs and stock-fish; yet I'll do somewhat for you in the meantime. My master is abroad, and my young mistresses at home: if you can do any good on them, before the Frenchman come, why so. Ah! gentlemen, do not suffer a litter of languages to spring up amongst us. I must to the walk in Paul's, you to the vestry. Gentlemen, as to myself and so forth. [Exit Frisco.
Har. Fools tell the truth, men say, and so may he.
Wenches, we come now; love our conduct be!
Ned, knock at the door.—But soft, forbear!
Enter Laurentia, Marina, and Mathea.
The cloud breaks up, and our three suns appear.
To this I fly. Shine bright, my life's sole stay,
And make grief's night a glorious summer's day.
Mar. Gentlemen, how welcome you are here,
Guess by our looks, for other means by fear
Prevented is. Our father's quick return
Forbids the welcome else we would have done.
Wal. Mathea, how these faithful thoughts obey—
Math. No more, sweet love, I know what thou wouldst say.
You say you love me, so I wish you still:
Love hath love's hire, being balanc'd with good-will.
But say; come you to us, or come you rather
To pawn more lands for money to our father?
I know 'tis so; i' God's name, spend at large:
What, man, our marriage-day will all discharge.
Our father (by his leave) must pardon us.
Age save of age of nothing can discuss;
But in our loves the proverb we'll fulfil—
Women and maids must always have their will.
Heigh. Say thou as much, and add life to this corse.
Laur. Yourself and your good news do more enforce.
How these have set forth love by all their wit;
I swear in heart, I more than double it.
Sisters, be glad, for he hath made it plain,
The means to get our schoolmaster again,[492]
But, gentlemen, for this time cease our loves;
This open street perhaps suspicion moves.
Fain we would stay, bid you walk in more rather,
But that we fear the coming of our father.
Go to th' Exchange, crave gold as you intend:
Pisaro scrapes for us; for us you spend.
We say farewell more sadlier, be bold.
Than would my greedy father to his gold:
We here, you there; ask gold, and gold you shall:
We'll pay the interest and the principal. [Exeunt Sisters.
Wal. That's my good girls, and I'll pay you for all.
Har. Come to th' Exchange, and when I feel decay,
Send me such wenches, heavens, I still shall pray. [Exeunt.