University of Virginia Library

SCENA II.

Enter Dorothea, and Thomas.
Dor.
Why do you rail at me? do I dwell in her
To force her to do this or that? your letter,
A wilde-fire on your letter; your sweet Letter;
You are so learned in your writs: ye stand now
As if ye had worried sheep: you must turn tippet,
And suddenly, and truely, and discreetly
Put on the shape of order and humanity,
Or you must marry Maikyn the May Lady:
You must, dear Brother: do you make me carrier
Of your confound mee's, and your culverings?
Am I a seemly agent for your oaths?
Who would have writ such a debosh'd?

Thom.
Your patience,
May not a man profess his love?

Dor.
In blasphemies?
Rack a maids tender cars, with dam's and Devils?

Thom.
Out, out upon thee,
How would you have me write?
Begin with my love premised? surely,
And by my truly Mistress.

Dor.
Take your own course,
For I see all perswasion's lost upon ye:
Humanitie, all drown'd: from this hour fairly
I'le wash my hands of all ye do: farewel Sir.

Tho.
Thou art not mad?

Dor.
No, if I were, dear Brother
I would keep you company: get a new Mistress
Some suburb Saint, that six pence, and some others
Will draw to parley: carowse her health in Cans
And candles ends, and quarrel for her beauty,
Such a sweet heart must serve your turn: your old love
Releases ye of all your tyes; disclaims ye
And utterly abjures your memory
Till time has better manag'd ye, will ye command me—

Thom.
What, bob'd of all sides?

Dor.
Any worthy service
Unto my Father Sir, that I may tell him
Even to his peace of heart, and much rejoycing
Ye are his true Son Tom still? will it please ye
To beat some half a dozen of his servants presently,
That I may testifie you have brought the same faith
Unblemish'd home, ye carried out? or if it like you
There be two chamber maids within, young wenches,
Handsom and apt for exercise: you have been good, Sir,
And charitable though I say it Signiour
To such poor orphans: and now, by th'way I think on't
Your young rear Admiral, I mean your last bastard
Don John, ye had by Lady Blanch the Dairy Maid,
Is by an Academy of learned Gypsies,
Foreseeing some strange wonder in the infant
Stoln from the Nurse, and wanders with those Prophets.
There is plate in the parlour, and good store Sir,
When your wants shall supply it. So most humbly
(First rendring my due service) I take leave Sir.

[Exit.
Tho.
Why Doll, why Doll I say: my letter sub'd too,
And no access without I mend my manners?
All my designes in Limbo? I will have her,
Yes, I will have her, though the Devil roar,
I am resolv'd that, if she live above ground,
I'le not be bob'd i'th' nose with every bobtail:
I will be civil too, now I think better,
Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried:
And yet be mad upon occasion,
And stark mad too, and save my land: my Father,
I'le have my will of him, how e're my wench goes.

[Exit.
Enter Sebastian, and Launcelot.
Seb.
Sirrah, I say still you have spoil'd your Master: leave your stiches:
I say thou hast spoil'd thy Master.

Lau.
I say how Sir?

Seb.
Marry thou hast taught him like an arrant rascal,
First to read perfectly: which on my blessing
I warn'd him from: for I knew if he read once,
He was a lost man. Secondly, Sir Launcelot,
Sir lowsie Launcelot, ye have suffer'd him
Against my power first, then against my precept,
To keep that simpring sort of people company,
That sober men call civil: mark ye that Sir?

Lau.
And't please your worship.

Seb.
It does not please my worship,
Nor shall not please my worship: thirdly and lastly,
Which if the law were here, I would hang thee for,
(However I will lame thee) like a villain,
Thou hast wrought him
Clean to forget what 'tis to do a mischief,
A handsom mischief, such as thou knew'st I lov'd well.
My servants all are sound now, my drink sowr'd,
Not a horse pawn'd, nor plaid away: no warrants
Come for the breach of peace.
Men travel with their mony, and nothing meets 'em:
I was accurs'd to send thee, thou wert ever
Leaning to laziness, and loss of spirit,
Thou slept'st still like a cork upon the water.

Lau.
Your worship knows, I ever was accounted
The most debosh'd, and please you to remember,
Every day drunk too, for your worships credit,
I broke the Butlers head too.

Seb.
No, base Palliard,
I do remember yet that anslaight, thou wast beaten,
And fledst before the Butler; a black jack
Playing upon thee furiously, I saw it:
I saw thee scatter'd rogue, behold thy Master.

Enter Thomas, with a Book.
Thom.
What sweet content dwells here!

Lau.
Put up your Book Sir,
We are all undone else.

Seb.
Tom, when is the horse-race?

Thom.
I know not Sir.

Seb.
You will be there?

Tho.
Not I Sir,
I have forgot those journeys.

Seb.
Spoil'd for ever.
The Cocking holds at Derby, and there will be
Jack Wild-oats, and Will Purser.

Tho.
I am sorry, Sir,
They should employ their time so slenderly,
Their understandings will bear better courses.

Seb.
Yes, I will marry again: but Monsieur Thomas,
What say ye to the Gentleman that challeng'd ye
Before he went, and the fellow ye fell out with?

Tho.
O good Sir,
Remember not those follies; where I have wrong'd, Sir,
(So much I have now learn'd to discern my self)
My means, and my repentance shall make even,
Nor do I think it any imputation
To let the Law perswade me.

Seb.
Any Woman:
I care not of what colour, or complexion,
Any that can bear Children: rest ye merry.

[Exit.
La.
Ye have utterly undone; clean discharg'd me,
I am for the ragged Regiment.

Tho.
Eight languages,
And wither at an old mans words?

La.
O pardon me.
I know him but too well: eightscore I take it
Will not keep me from beating, if not killing:
I'le give him leave to break a leg, and thank him:
You might have sav'd all this, and sworn a little:
What had an oath or two been? or a head broke,
Though 'thad been mine, to have satisfied the old man?

Tho.
I'le break it yet.

La.
Now 'tis too late, I take it:
Will ye be drunk to night, (a less intreaty
Has serv'd your turn) and save all yet? not mad drunk,
For then ye are the Devil, yet the drunker,
The better for your Father still: your state is desperate,
And with a desperate cure ye must recover it:
Do something, do Sir: do some drunken thing,
Some mad thing, or some any thing to help us.

Tho.
Go for a Fidler then: the poor old Fidler
That sayes his Songs: but first where lyes my Mistris,
Did ye enquire out that?

La.
I'th' Lodge, alone Sir,
None but her own Attendants.

Tho.
'Tis the happier:
Away then, find this Fidler, and do not miss me
By nine a Clock.

La.
Via.

[Exit.
Tho.
My Father's mad now,
And ten to one will disinherit me:
I'le put him to his plunge, and yet be merry.
What Ribabald?

Enter Hylas and Sam.
Hyl.
Don Thomasio.
De bene venew.

Tho.
I do embrace your body:
How do'st thou Sam?

Sam.
The same Sam still: your friend Sir.

Tho.
And how is't bouncing boyes?

Hyl.
Thou art not alter'd,
They said thou wert all Monsieur.

Tho.
O believe it,
I am much alter'd, much another way:
The civil'st Gentleman in all your Country:
Do not ye see me alter'd? yea, and nay Gentlemen,
A much converted man: where's the best wine boys?

Hyl.
A sound Convertite.

Tho.
What, hast thou made up twenty yet?

Hyl.
By'r Lady,
I have giv'n a shrewd push at it, for as I take it,
The last I fell in love with, scor'd sixteen.

Tho.
Look to your skin, Rambaldo the sleeping Gyant
Will rowze and rent thee piece-meal.

Sam.
He ne'r perceives 'em
Longer than looking on.

Thom.
Thou never meanest then
To marry any that thou lov'st?

Hyl.
No surely,
Nor any wise man I think; marriage?
Would you have me now begin to be prentice,
And learn to cobble other mens old Boots?

Sam.
Why, you may take a Maid.

Hyl.
Where? can you tell me?
Or if 'twere possible I might get a Maid,
To what use should I put her? look upon her,
Dandle her upon my knee, and give her sugar-sops?
All the new Gowns i'th' Parish will not please her,
If she be high bred, for there's the sport she aims at,
Nor all the feathers in the Fryars.

Thom.
Then take a Widow,
A good stanch wench, that's tith.

Hyl.
And begin a new order,
Live in a dead mans monument, not I, Sir,
I'll keep mine own road, a true mendicant;
What pleasure this day yields me, I never covet
To lay up for the morrow; and methinks ever
Anothers mans Cook dresses my diet neatest.

Thom.
Thou wast wont to love old women, fat and flat nosed,
And thou would'st say they kiss'd like Flounders, flat
All the face over.

Hyl.
I have had such damsels
I must confess.

Thom.
Thou hast been a precious Rogue.

Sam.
Only his eyes; and o' my Conscience
They lye with half the Kingdom.

[Enter over the Stage, Physicians and others.
Thom.
What's the matter?
Whither go all these men menders, these Physicians?
Whose Dog lies sick o'th' mulligrubs?

Sam.
O the Gentleman,
The young smug Seigniour, Master Valentine
Brought out of travel with him, as I hear,
Is faln sick o'th' sudden, desperate sick,
And likely they go thither.

Thom.
Who? young Frank?
The only temper'd spirit, Scholar, Souldier,
Courtier; and all in one piece? 'tis not possible.

Enter Alice.
Sam.
There's one can better satisfie you.

Thom.
Mistress Alice,
I joy to see you, Lady.

Alice.
Good Monsieur Thomas,
You're welcome from your travel; I am hasty,
A Gentleman lyes sick, Sir.

Thom.
And how dost thou?
I must know, and I will know.

Alice.
Excellent well,
As well as may be, thank ye.

Thom.
I am glad on't,
And prithee hark.

Alice.
I cannot stay.

Thom.
A while, Alice.

Sam.
Never look so narrowly, the mark's in her mouth still.

Hyl.
I am looking at her legs, prithee be quiet.

Alice.
I cannot stay.

Thom.
O sweet Alice.

Hyl.
A clean instep,
And that I love a life, I did not mark
This woman half so well before, how quick
And nimble like a shadow, there her leg shew'd;
By th'mass a neat one, the colour of her Stocking,
A much inviting colour.

Alice.
My good Monsieur,
I have no time to talk now.

Hyl.
Pretty Breeches,
Finely becoming too.

Thom.
By Heaven.

Alice.
She will not,
I can assure you that, and so.

Thom.
But this word.

Alice.
I cannot, nor I will not, good Lord

[Exit.
Hyl.
Well, you shall hear more from me

Thom.
We'll go visit,
'Tis Charity; besides, I know she is there
And under visitation I shall see her,
Will ye along?

Hyl.
By any mean

Thom.
Be sure then
I be a civil man: I have sport in hand, Boys,
Shall make mirth for a Marriage day.

Hyl.
Away then.

[Exeunt.