University of Virginia Library

Enter Mrs. Wilding and the Page.
Mrs. Wild.
Where's you master, boy?

Page.
I know not, mistress.

Mrs. Wild.
Come nearer, sirrah; you are of your master's
Council sometimes; come, be true in what
I shall desire, and I shall find a time for your reward.

Page.
How d'ye mean, mistress?
We pages meet rewards of several natures:
This great man gives us gold; that lady, gloves;
T'other, silk stockings, roses, garters: but
The lady and mistress whom we serve in ordinary,
Reserves another bounty for our closeness.

Mrs. Wild.
I see you can be a wag; but be just to me, and secret—

Page.
As your looking-glass;
That in your absence cannot be corrupted
To betray your complexion.

Mrs. Wild.
What private mistresses does master Wilding visit?

Page.
Who, my master?
Alas, forsooth, d'ye think he lets me know?

Mrs. Wild.
Nay, nay, dissemble not.

Page.
I hire a coach
Sometimes, or so, but ride always i'th' boot;
I look at nobody but the passengers.
I do not sit i'th' same box at plays with them;
I wait at tavern, I confess, and so forth;
And when he has sup'd, we must have time to eat too:
And what should I trouble my conscience
With being too officious till I am call'd for?
'Tis true, he waits upon the ladies home;
But 'tis so dark, I know not where they dwell:
And the next day we have new ones; 'las, meer strangers
To me, and I should be unmannerly
To catechize 'em. If now and then there be
Any superfluous cast waiting-woman,
There be so many serving-men about her,
I cannot come to ask a question;
And how should I know any thing?

Mrs. Wild.
I see you are old enough for vice.

Page.
Alas, forsooth,
You know 'tis ill to do a thing that's wicked,
But 'twere a double sin to talk on't too,
If I were guilty; beside forsooth, I know
You would ne'er trust me again, if I should tell you.

Mrs. Wild.
Thou art deceiv'd, it shall endear thee more.

Page.
I must beseech you
To be excus'd; my master is my master;
My feet are at your service, not my tongue:
I would not forfeit my honour for the world.

Mrs. Wild.
Hence, thou old in villainy!
But 'tis in vain to chide: leave me, and bid
Mistress Penelope come hither.

Page.
Yes, forsooth.—She is so frumpish.

[Exit.
Mrs. Wild.
I know not which way to begin: to me
He has betray'd he loves her. Here she is;
Now to the tryal.

Enter Penelope.
Pen.
Will you be sad still, cousin? Why d'ye grieve?
Be kinder to yourself. Trust me, I weep,
When I am alone, for you.

Mrs. Wild.
Sorrow and I
Are taking leave, I hope; and these are only
Some drops after the cloud has wept its violence.
Were one thing finish'd, I should ne'er be sad more;
And I cannot despair to know it done,
Since the effect depends upon your love.

Pen.
My love! 'tis justice you command my service:
I would I were so happy.

Mrs. Wild.
Make me so,
By your consent to my desire.

Pen.
Pray name it.

Mrs. Wild.
I only ask your love; pray give it me.

Pen.
My love! why do you mock my poor heart, which
Pours all it has upon you? y'are possess'd of that already.

Mrs. Wild.
You examine not
The extent of my request; for when you have
Given what I ask, your love; you must no more
Direct it as you please: the power's in me
How to dispose it.

Pen.
And you shall for ever;
I have no passion that shall not know obedience to you.

Mrs. Wild.
Your love, by gift
Made mine, I give my husband. Do you love him?

Pen.
I always did.

Mrs. Wild.
But in a nearer way:
Love him as I do?

Pen.
I understand you not; or if you do
Suspect I cherish any lawless flame—

Mrs. Wild.
Thou art too innocent: be less, and do
An act to endear us both: I know he loves thee;
Meet it, dear cuz; 'tis all I beg of thee;
I know you think it a most strange request,
But it will make me fortunate.

Pen.
Grief, I fear,
Hath made her wild.—D'ye know what you desire?

Mrs. Wild.
Yes, that you love my husband: modesty
Will not allow me to discourse my wish
In every circumstance; but think how desperate
My wound is, that would have so strange a cure.
He'll love me then; and, trust me, I'll not study
Revenge, as other wives perhaps would do,
But thank thee; and indeed an act like this,
So full of love, with so much loss and shame too
For mine and his sake, will deserve all duty.

Pen.
I have no patience to hear more; and could
I let in a thought you meant this earnest,
I should forget I knew you; but you cannot
Be fall'n from so much goodness. I confess
I have no confidence in your husband's virtue;
He has attempted me; but shall hope sooner
To leave a stain upon the sun, than bribe
Me to so foul a guilt. I have no life
Without my innocence; and you cannot make
Yourself more miserable than to wish it from me.
Oh, do not lose the merit of your faith
And truth to him, tho' he forget himself,
By thinking to relieve yourself thus sinfully:
But sure you do but try me all this while.

Mrs. Wild.
And I have found thee pure: be still preserv'd so.
But he will straggle farther—

Pen.
Cherish hope;
He rather will come back: your tears and prayers
Cannot be lost.

Mrs. Wild.
I charge thee by thy love,
Yet be rul'd by me. I'll not be so wicked
To tempt thee in a thought shall blemish thee;
But as thou would'st desire my peace, and his
Conversion, if his wantonness last with him,
Appear more tractable; allow him so much
Favour, in smile and language, that he may not
Think it impossible to prevail at last.

Pen.
This may engage him farther, and myself to a dishonour.

Mrs. Wild.
It shall work our happiness,
As I will manage things; 'tis but to seem:
A look will cost thee nothing, nor a smile,
To make his hopes more pleasing: on my life
Thou shalt be safe both in thy fame and person.
Will you do this for my sake?

Pen.
I'll refuse no danger, if I suffer not in honor,
To do you any service.

Mrs. Wild.
I have cast it
Already in my brain; but do not yet
Inquire my purpose: as his folly leads
Him to pursue you, let me know; and I'll
By fair degrees acquaint you with my plot;
Which built on no foul ends, is like to prosper;
And see, how aptly he presents himself—
Pr'ythee seem kind, and leave the rest to me.
He shall not see me,

[Exit.
Enter Wilding.
Wild.
How now, cuz, was that
My wife went off?

Pen.
Yes, sir.

Wild.
Let her go: what said she to thee?

Pen.
Nothing.

Wild.
Thou art troubled!

Pen.
Pray, to your knowledge, sir, wherein have I
Done injury to you, or her?

Wild.
Has she abus'd thee?
I'll go kick her.

Pen.
By no means, sir—I steal away your heart,
And meet at stol'n embraces?

Wild.
Does she twit thee? I'll kick her like a foot-ball,
Say but the word.

Pen.
By no means think upon't: I have forgiven her.
You sha'not, sir, so much as frown upon her;
Pray do not, as you love me; we must study
A more convenient revenge.

Wild.
How is this?
I pr'ythee, if she has been peremptory,
Which was none of our articles, let me instruct thee
How we shall be reveng'd.

Pen.
Sir, I acknowledge
The growth and expectation of my fortune
Is in your love; and tho' I would not wrong her—
And yet, to have my innocence accus'd,
Is able to pervert it. Sir, your pardon;
I have been passionate: pray love your wife.

Wild.
No, no, I'll love thee; indeed, indeed, I will.
Is she jealous?

Pen.
You know she has no cause.

Wild.
Let us be wise, and give her cause: shall's cuz?

Pen.
Sir, if I be a trouble to your house,
Your breath shall soon discharge me: I had thought
The tie of blood might have gain'd some respect.

Wild.
Discharge thee the house? I'll discharge her,
And all her generation, thee excepted;
And thou shalt do't thyself; by this, thou shalt:
[Kisses her.
Ha, she kisses with more freedom! this is better
[Aside.
Than if my wife had pleaded for me. Pen,
Thou shalt be mistress, wil't thou? come, thou shalt:
She's fit for drudgery.

Pen.
Oh, do not say so.

Wild.
Then I wo'not; but I love thee for thy spirit,
'Cause thou wilt be reveng'd. Punish her jealousy
The right way: when 'tis done, I would chuse
To tell her: it may kick up her heels another way.

Pen.
Tell her what? you make me blush.

Wild.

No, no, I'll tell nobody, by this hand, I will
not. [Kisses it]
Stay, stay, I have a diamond will become
this finger—'tis in my drawer above, I'll fetch
it strait.

Pen.

O, by no means.

Wild.

'Tis thine, 'tis thine, my girl—my soul is
thine.

[Exit.
Pen.

Indeed, Mrs. Wilding, this is going a little too
far for you—there is something so like reality in all I
have been doing, that I am more than half in a fever
with it already—this playing with fire is a very foolish
thing, but tho' I burn my fingers I must go thro'
with it.

Enter Wilding, with a ring.
Wild.

Here it is, Pen, as sparkling as thyself; wear
it, and let my Wife stare out her eyes upon't.

Pen.
I wo'not take't on such conditions.

Wild.
Take it on any, take it one any—
She's come about.

Enter Page.
Page.

Sir, Master Hazard desires your company at
the tavern—he says there are none but gentlemen of your
acquaintance, Mr. Careless, Mr. Littlestock, and Mr.
Sellaway.

Wild.

He must excuse me—get you gone.

Pen.

Stay, stay, boy—As you love me go, sir—Your
master will come. [Exit Page.]
—Have no suspicions that I
wish your absence; I'll wear your gift, and study to be
grateful.

Wild.

I'll leave my boy behind—and shou'd my wife
be set on gossiping this afternoon, pretend thou, girl,
some slight indisposition to keep at home; and when
she's gone, let me but know it, and I'll leave the happiest
run of dice to catch a moment with thee.

Pen.

I want not such strong proofs of your regard;
I will not stop your fortune.

Wild.

Then I'll not leave you now.

Pen.

You must; indeed you must—When I can oblige
you, I shall not prove ungrateful.

[Exit.
Wild.

Both wind and tide are for me!—No talk now
of wife's consent, I'll not remove my siege—When I can
oblige you!—Oh, 'twas sweetly spoken!—She is my own!
I have her sure! quite sure—Now to the tavern and drink
to the purpose.

[Exit.