University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A Banqueting-Room in the Same. A table spread for a feast, at which are seated Ruffler, Travers, Goldstraw, Pollen, Foam, Hopeful, Marks, Lady Goldstraw, Madge, and other Ladies and Gentlemen. Servants in waiting.
Travers.
(Apart to Ruffler.)
Go to it boldly, Ruffler. All these fellows
Have been instructed in their parts, and all
Have sworn to aid you; some inspired by fun,
And some by malice or revenge.

Ruffler.
But, Will,
You did not trust them with my plot?

Trav.
O no;
Their natural wickedness was spur enough.
They volunteered a thousand graceless things
More than I asked. Begin.

Ruf.
Sirrah, the woodcock!

First Servant.
Please you, my lord, I stumbled.

Ruf.
Stumbled, ha!—
Take that!

[Throws a bottle at him.]
Lady Goldstraw.
My lord is merry.

[To the company.]
First S.
O, my head!

Ruf.
Poor soul, he 's hurt! I'll heal you, Come, kneel down.
[Servant kneels.]
Travers, that sauce. Let me anoint his wound.

[Pours sauce over servant.]
First S.
O Lord! I 'm scalded!

Ruf.
Scalded! Quick, some wine—
'Ods blood! some wine! He'll die upon my hands.
[Gives a bottle of wine.]
Drink all, my boy; down with it, every drop;
Or I'll not answer for you.

[Servant drinks.]
Lady G.
Joyous heart!
The very life of company. O dear!
The man is surely mad. (Aside.)
Ha, ha! my lord,
[Laughing.]
You have a humor of your own.

Ruf.
How, wife,
Do I enact the good Samaritan,
To have you call it humor? Now, 'ods life!
I feel a virtuous anger at your scorn.

Madge.
I cannot bear this; it will break my heart!

[Aside. Exit.]
Lady G.
I meant no scorn.

Ruf.
'Sdeath! do you answer me?

Lady G.
I 'm dumb, my lord.

Ruf.
This Burgundy is sour:
Who brought it in?

Second and Third Servants.
We did, my lord.

Ruf.
Then drink it.
[Lady Goldstraw shakes her head at them.]
What, you refuse when I command?

[Starts up.]
Servants.
No, no!
We'll drink it.

[They drink.]
Ruf.
All!

Lady R.
You'll make them drunk, my lord.

Ruf.
The better, love; they will not see your state.

Lady G.
My state!

Ruf.
Ay, madam, your unseemly state.
It grieves me to call notice to a sight
Which all here have observed, too plainly, madam.
Pray, ladies, lead her to her room, and use
Your dearest care about her.

[The Ladies rise.]
Lady G.
(Starting up.)
Marry! queans,
Touch me, and I'll be even with your eyes!
You base, ungrateful ruffian, thus to lie—
Ay, never wince—to lie, to lie, to lie—
Over and over in your teeth—to lie
About a lady! The Lord Mayor, my husband—

Ruf.
Hang the Lord Mayor, your husband! Never cast
His old dry bones into my face again!
The devil has him.

Lady G.
And his widow too,
I fear. O gentlemen, if you be such,
How can your manhood brook, unmoved,
This villain's insults?

Goldstraw.
He 's my uncle, aunt.

Trav.
Your husband, madam.

Pollen.
Captain of your squad.

Foam.
La! yes.

Marks.
And guardian of your property.

Hopeful.
(Drunk.)
Ex-queen of my affection—

Lady G.
Silence, cowards!
I will not learn my duty from your lips,
Pale-hearted cravens!—

Servants.
(Drunk. Sing.)
The devil 's a gentleman, I contend—
Tra, ra, la, la! the bottle stands—
His horn 's his beginning, his tail 's his end,
And his—

Lady G.
Dare ye, dare ye, knaves,
Sing filthy rhymes before your mistress' face?
Out of the house—out, every one of you!

Ruf.
Budge, and I'll skin you!

Hope.
(Drunk.)
Scorn not poesy—hic!

Ruf.
(Sings, passing the bottle.)

All.
[Chorus.]
For Rhenish wine is fit for swine,
So is wine of Landes;
But the bowl to reach the soul
Is immortal brandy!

Ruf.
[Sings.]
Drink it down without a frown;
When we cannot tap it,
When the cup we can't get up,
We'll duck our heads and lap it.

All.
[Chorus.]
For Rhenish wine is fit for swine,
So is wine of Landes;
But the bowl to reach the soul
Is immortal brandy!

Ruf.
How like you that?

Lady G.
Come, ladies, if there 's left
One grain of self-respect among you all,
And leave these drunkards. Husband, ribald, brute!
Tear up my rooms, break all my furniture,
Murder my servants, set the house afire—
Do all the devilish pranks your drunken brain
Can stumble over; but, in Heaven's good name,
Drink yourself dead! Never come out of this—
This beastly cloud of shame and infamy—
To torture me with your gross, odious life!
Die, gorged with your own baseness—die, and rot!
And I will bury you, and kiss your body,
Which, living, I abhor!

[Exit with Ladies.]
Ruf.
Indeed! Ho, ho!

[Laughing.]
All.
[Laughing, sing.]
For Rhenish wine is fit for swine,
So is wine of Landes;
But the bowl to reach the soul
Is immortal brandy!

[The curtain falls, amid roars of drunken laughter.]