SCENE II.
Enter Welltried, and Bold putting on his doublet; Feesimple asleep on a bed, as in Bold's chamber.
Well. You see, we made bold with your lodging: indeed, I did assure myself you were fast for this night.
Bold. But how the devil came this fool in your company?
Well. 'Sfoot, man, I carried him last night among the roarers to flesh him; and, by this light, he got drunk, and beat 'em all.
Bold. Why, then he can endure the sight of a drawn sword now?
Well. O God, sir, I think in my conscience he will eat steel shortly. I know not how his conversion will hold after this sleep; but, in an hour or two last night, he was grown such a little damn-me, that I protest I was afraid of the spirit that I myself had raised in him. But this other matter—of your expulsion thus, mads me to the heart. Were you in bed with her?
Bold. In bed, by heaven.
Well. I'll be hanged, if you were not busy too soon: you should have let her slept first.
Bold. Zounds! man, she put her hand to my breasts, and swore I was no maid: now I, being eager to prove her words true, took that hint, and would violently have thrust her hand lower, when her thought, being swifter than my strength, made her no sooner imagine that she was betrayed, but she leaps out of the bed, whips me down a sword that hung by, and, as if fortitude and justice had met to assist her, spite of all argument, fair or foul, she forced me away.
Well. But is it possible thou shouldst have no more wit? wouldst thou come away upon any terms but sure ones, having night, her chamber, and herself naked in thine arms? By that light, if I had a son of fourteen, whom I had helped thus far, that had served me so, I would breech him.[122]
Bold. 'Sheart! what would you have me done?
Well. Have done? done? done twice at least.
Bold. Have played Tarquin, and ravished her?
Well. Pish! Tarquin was a blockhead: if he had had any wit and could have spoke, Lucrece had never been ravished; she would have yielded, I warrant thee, and so will any woman.
Bold. I was such an erroneous heretic to love and women as thou art, till now.
Well. God's precious! it makes me mad when I think on't. Was there ever such an absurd trick! now will she abuse thee horribly, say thou art a faint-hearted fellow, a milksop, and I know not what, as indeed thou art.
Bold. Zounds! would you had been in my place.
Well. Zounds! I would I had, I would have so jumbled her honesty. Wouldst thou be held out at stave's end with words? dost thou not know a widow's a weak vessel, and is easily cast, if you close.
Bold. Welltried, you deal unfriendly.
Well. By this light, I shall blush to be seen in thy company.
Bold. Pray, leave my chamber.
Well. Pox upon your chamber!
I care not for your chamber nor yourself,
More than you care for me.
Bots. 'Sblood! I as little for you.
Well. Why, fare you well.
Bots. Why, fare well. Yet, Welltried,[123] I prythee, stay:
Thou know'st I love thee.
Well. 'Sheart! I love you as well;
But for my spleen or choler, I think I have
As much as you.
Bots. Well, friend,
This is the business you must do for me.
Repair unto the widow, where give out,
To-morrow morn I shall be married:
Invite her to the wedding. I have a trick
To put upon this lord, too, whom I made
My instrument to prefer me.
Well. What shall follow
I will not ask, because I mean[124] to see't.
The jars 'twixt friends still keeps their friendship sweet.
[Exit.
Fee. [waking.] Why, Welltried, you rogue! what's that? a vision?
Bold. Why, how now, my lord? whom do you call rogue? The gentleman you name is my friend. If you were wise, I should be angry.
Fee. Angry with me? why, damn me, sir, and you be, out with your sword. It is not with me, I tell you, as it was yesterday; I am fleshed, man, I. Have you anything to say to me?
Bold. Nothing but this: how many do you think you have slain last night?
Fee. Why, five; I never kill less.
Bold. There were but four. My lord, you had best provide yourself and begone; three you have slain stark dead.
Fee. You jest!
Bold. It is most true. Welltried is fled.
Fee. Why, let the roarers meddle with me another time: as for flying, I scorn it; I killed 'em like a man. When did you ever see a lord hang for anything? We may kill whom we list. Marry, my conscience pricks me. Ah! plague a' this drink! what things it makes us do! I do no more remember this now than a puppy-dog.
O bloody lord, that art bedaub'd with gore!
Vain world, adieu, for I will roar no more.
Bold. Nay, stay, my lord: I did but try the tenderness of your conscience. All this is nothing so; but, to sweeten the tale I have for you, I foretold you this feigned mischance.
Fee. It is a tale belonging to the widow.
Bold. I think you are a witch.
Fee. My grandmother was suspected.
Bold. The widow has desired you by me to meet her to-morrow morning at church in some unknown disguise, lest any suspect it; for, quoth she,
Long hath he held me fast in his moist hand,
Therefore I will be his in nuptial band.
Fee. Bold, I have ever taken you to be my friend. I am very wise now and valiant; if this be not true, damn me, sir, you are the son of a whore, and you lie, and I will make it good with my sword.
Bold. I am whate'er you please, sir, if it be not true. I will go with you to the church myself. Your disguise I have thought on. The widow is your own. Come, leave your fooling.
Fee. If this be true, thou little boy Bold,
[Cantat.
So true, as thou tell'st to me,
To-morrow morn, when I have the widow,
My dear friend shall thou be.[125]
[Exeunt.