 | The Nevv Inne. Or, The light Heart |  |
Act 4.
Scene 1.
Iug.Barnabe. Iordan.
O Barnabe!
Ior.
Welcome Barnabe! Where hast thou beene?
Bar.
I'the foule weather.
Iug.
Which has wet thee, Ban.
Bar.
As drie as a chip! Good Iug, a cast o' thy name,
As well as thy office; two iugges!
Iug.
By, and by.
Ior.
What Lady's this thou hast brought here?
Bar.
A great Lady!
I know no more: one, that will trie you, Iordan.
Shee'll finde your gage, your circle, your capacity,
How do's old Staggers the Smith? and Tree, the Sadler?
Keep they their peny-club, stil?
Ior.
And th'old catch too,
Of whoop Barnaby—
Bar.
Doe they sing at me?
Ior.
They'are reeling at it, in the parlous, now:
Bar.
Ile to 'hem: Gi' mee a drinke first.
Ior.
Wheres thy hat?
Bar.
I lost it by the way—Gi'me another.
Iug.
A hat?
Bar.
A drinke.
Iug.
Take heed of taking cold, Ban—
Bar.
The wind blew't off at High-gate, and my Lady
Would not endure mee, light, to take it vp,
But made me driue bare-headed i'the raine.
Ior.
That she might be mistaken for a Countesse?
Bar.
Troth, like inough! She might be an o're-grown Dutchesse,
For ought I know.
Iug.
What! with one man!
Bar.
At a time,
They cary no more, the best of 'hem.
Io.
Nor the brauest.
Bar.
And she is very braue!
Ior.
A stately gowne!
Bar.
Ha'you spi'd that, Iordan?
You'are a notable peerer, an old Rabbi,
At a smocks-hem, boy.
Iug.
As he is Chamberlane,
He may doe that, by his place.
Ior.
Whats her Squire?
Bar.
A toy, that she allowes eight-pence a day.
A slight Man-net, to port her, vp, and downe.
Come shew me to my play-fellowes, old Staggers,
And father Tree.
Ior.
Here, this way, Barnabe.
Scene 2.
Tipto.Burst. Huffle. Fly.
Come, let'vs take in fresco, here, one quart.
Bur.
Two quarts, my man of war, let'vs not be stinted.
Huf.
Aduance three iordans, varlet o'the house.
Tip.
I do not like your Burst, Bird; He is sawcy:
Some Shop-keeper he was?
Fly.
Yes, Sir.
Tip.
I knew it.
A broke-wing'd Shop-keeper? I nose 'hem, streight.
He had no Father, I warrant him, that durst own him;
Some soundling in a stall, or the Church porch;
Brought vp it'he Hospitall; and so bound Prentise;
Then Master of a shop: then one o'th Inquest;
Then breakes out Bankrupt; or starts Alderman:
The originall of both is a Church-porch—
Fli.
Of some, my Colonel.
Tip.
Good fayth, of most!
O'your shop Citizens, th'are rude Animals!
And let 'hem get but ten mile out a towne
Th'out swagger all the wapen-take.
Fli.
What's that?
A Saxon word, to signifie the hundred.
Bur.
Come let vs drinke, Sir Glorious, some braue health
Vpon our tip-toos.
Tip.
To the health o'the Bursts.
Bu.
Why Bursts?
Ti.
Why Tipto's?
Bu.
O' I cry you mercy!
Tip.
It is sufficient.
Huf.
What is so sufficient?
Tip.
To drinke to you is sufficient.
Huf.
On what terms?
Tip.
That you shall giue security to pledge me.
Huf.
So you will name no Spaniard, I will pledge you.
Tip.
I rather choose to thirst: and will thirst euer,
Then leaue that creame of nations, vn-cry'd vp.
Perish all wine, and gust of wine.
Huf.
How spill it?
Spill it at me?
Tip.
I wrek not, but I spilt it.
Fli.
Nay pray you be quiet, noble bloods.
Bur.
No Spaniards,
I crie, with my cossen Huffle.
Huf.
Spaniards? Pilchers?
Tip.
Do not prouoke my patient blade. It sleep's,
And would not heare thee: Huffle, thou art rude,
And dost not know the Spanish composition.
Bur.
What is the Recipe? Name the ingredients.
Tip.
Valor.
Bur.
Two ounces!
Tip.
Prudence.
Bur.
Half a dram!
Tip.
Iustice.
Bur.
A peny weight!
Tip.
Religion.
Bur.
Three scruples!
Tip.
And of grauida'd
Bur.
A facefull!
Tip.
He carries such a dose of it in his lookes,
Actions, and gestures, as it breeds respect,
To him, from Sauages, and reputation
With all the sonnes of men.
Bur.
Will it giue him credit
With Gamesters, Courtiers, Citizens, or Tradesmen?
Tip.
Hee'll borrow money on the stroke of his beard!
Or turne off his Mustaccio! His meere cuello,
Or Ruffe about his necke is a Bill of Exchange
That sees his gate, but straight will furnish him
Vpon his pale!
Huf.
I haue heard the Spanish name
Is terrible, to children in some Countries;
And vs'd to make them eat—their bread and butter:
Or take their worm-seed.
Tip.
Huffle, you doe shuffle.
—to them: Stuffe, Pinnacia.
Bur.
Slid heers a Lady!
Huf.
And a Lady gay!
Tip.
A well-trimm'd Lady!
Huf.
Lett's lay her a boord.
Bur.
Lett's haile her first.
Tip.
By your sweet fauour, Lady,
Stu.
Good Gentlemen be ciuill, we are strangers.
Bur.
And you were Flemings, Sir!
Huf.
Or Spaniards!
Tip.
The'are here, haue beene at Seuil i'their dayes,
And at Madrid too!
Pin.
He is a foolish fellow,
I pray you minde him not, He is my Protection.
Tip.
In your protection, he is safe, sweet Lady.
So shall you be, in mine.
Huf.
A share, good Coronell.
Tip.
Of what?
Huf.
Of your fine Lady! I am Hodge,
My name is Huffle.
Tip.
Huffling Hodge, be quiet.
Bur.
And I pray you, be you so, Glorious Coronel,
Hodge Huffle shall be quiet.
Huf.
A Lady gay, gay.
For she is a Lady gay, gay, gay. For she's a Lady gay.
Tip.
Bird o' the Vespers, Uespertilio, Burst;
You are a Gentleman, o' the first head,
But that head may be broke, as all the Body is—
Burst, if you tie not vp your Huffle, quickly.
Huf.
Tie dogs, not man.
Hur.
Nay pray thee, Hodge, be still.
Tip.
This steele here rides not, on this thigh, in vaine.
Huf.
Shew'st thou thy steele, & thigh, thou glorious Dirt,
—Peirce. Iug. Iorden. To them.
Pei.
Keepe the peace gentlemen: what do you mean?
Tip.
I will not discompose my selfe, for Huffle.
Pin.
You see what your entreaty, and pressure still
Of gentlemen, to be ciuill, doth bring on?
A quarrell? and perhaps man-slaughter? You
Will carry your goose about you, stil? your planing Iron?
Your tongue to smooth all is not here fine stuffe?
Stu.
Why wife?
Pin.
Your wife? ha'not I forbiden you that?
Doe you thinke I'le call you husband i'this gowne,
Or any thing, in that iacket, but Protection?
Here tie my shooe; and shew my vellute petticote,
And my silke stocking! why doe you make me a Lady,
If I may not doe like a Lady, in fine clothes.
Stu.
Sweet heart, you may doe what you will, with me.
Pin.
I; I knew that at home; what to doe with you;
But why was I brought hither? to see fashions?
Stu.
And weare them too, sweet heart, but this wild Company—
Pin.
Why doe you bring me in wild Company?
You'd ha'me tame, and ciuill, in wild Company?
I hope I know, wild Company are fine Company,
And in fine Company, where I am fine my selfe,
A Lady may doe any thing, deny nothing
To a fine party, I haue heard you say't.
—To them Peirce.
Pei.
There are a Company of Ladies aboue
Desire your Ladiships Company, and to take
The surety of their lodgings, from the affront
Pin.
Are they fine Ladies?
Pei.
Some very fine Ladies.
Pin.
As fine as I?
Pei.
I dare vse no comparisons,
Being a seruant, sent—
Pin.
Spoke, like a fine fellow!
I would thou wert one; I'de not then deny thee:
But, thank thy Lady.
—To them Host.
Hos.
Madam, I must craue you
To afford a Lady a visit, would excuse
Some harshnesse o'the house, you haue receiu'd
From the brute ghests.
Pin.
This's a fine old man!
I'ld goe with him an' he were a little finer!
Stu:
You may sweet heart, it is mine Host.
Pin.
mine Host!
Host.
Yes madame, I must bid you welcom.
Pin.
Do then.
Stu.
But doe not stay.
Pin.
I'le be aduis'd by you, yes!
Scene. 3.
—To them Latimer. Beaufort. Lady. Pru. Frank. Host. Pinnacia. Stuffe.What more then Thracian Barbarisme was this!
Bea.
The battayle o'the Centaures, with the Lapithes!
Lad.
There is no taming o'the Monster drinke.
Lat.
But what a glorious beast our Tipto shew'd!
He would not discompose himselfe, the Don!
Your Spaniard, nere, doth discompose himselfe.
Bea.
Yet, how he talkt, and ror'd i'the beginning!
Pru.
And ran as fast, as a knock'd Marro'bone.
So they did all at last, when Lovel went downe,
And chas'd hem bout the Court.
Lat.
For all's Don Lewis!
Or fencing after Euclide!
Lad.
I nere saw
A lightning shoot so, as my seruant did,
His rapier was a Meteor, and he wau'd it
Ouer 'hem, like a Comet! as they fled him!
I mark'd his manhood! euery sloope he made
Was like an Eagles, at a flight of Cranes!
(As I haue read somewhere.)
Bea.
Brauely exprest:
Lat.
And like a Louer!
Lad.
Of his valour, I am!
He seem'd a body, ratifi'd, to ayre!
Or that his sword, and arme were of a peece,
They went together so! Here, comes the Lady.
Bea.
A bouncing Bona-roba! as the Flie sayd.
Fra.
She is some Giantesse! Ile stand off,
For feare she swallow me.
La.
Is not this our Gown, Pru?
That I bespoke of Stuffe?
Pru.
It is the fashion!
Lad.
I, and the Silke! Feele, sure it is the same!
Pru.
And the same Peticote, lace, and all!
Lad.
Ile sweare it.
How came it hither? make a bill of inquiry.
Pru.
Yo'haue a fine sute on, Madam! and a rich one!
Lad.
And of a curious making!
Pru.
And a new!
Pin.
As new, as Day.
Lat.
She answers like a fish-wife.
Pin.
I put it on, since Noone, I doe assure you.
Pru.
Who is your Taylor?
Lad.
'Pray you, your Fashioners name.
Pin
My Fashioner is a certaine man o' mine owne,
He'is i'the house: no matter for his name.
Host.
O, but to satisfie this beuy of Ladies:
Of which a brace, here, long'd to bid you well-come.
He'is one, in truth, I title my Protection:
Bid him come vp.
Host.
Our new Ladies Protection!
What is your Ladiships stile?
Pin.
Countesse Pinnaccia.
Host.
Countesse Pinnacias man, come to your Lady,
Pru.
Your Ladiships Taylor! mas, Stuffe!
Lad.
How Stuffe?
He the Protection!
Hos.
Stuffe lookes like a remnant.
Stu.
I am vndone, discouerd!
Pru.
Tis the suit, Madame,
Now, without scruple! and this, some deuise
To bring it home with.
Pin.
Why, vpon your knees?
Is this your Lady Godmother?
Stu.
Mum, Pinnacia.
It is the Lady Frampol: my best customer.
Lad.
What shew is this, that you present vs with?
Stu.
I doe beseech your Ladiship, forgiue me.
She did but say the suit on.
Lad.
Who? Which she?
Stu.
My wife forsooth.
Lad.
How? Mistresse Stuffe? Your wife!
Is that the riddle?
Pru.
We all look'd for a Lady,
A Dutchesse, or a Countesse at the least.
Stu.
She is my owne lawfully begotten wife,
In wedlocke. We ha'beene coupled now seuen yeares.
Lad.
And why thus mas'qd? You like a footman, ha!
And she your Countesse!
Pin.
To make a foole of himselfe
And of me too.
Stu.
I pray thee, Pinnace, peace.
Pin.
Nay it shall out, since you haue cald me wife,
And openly dis-Ladied me! though I am dis-Countess'd
I am not yet dis-countenanc'd. These shall see.
Hos.
silence!
Pi.
It is a foolish tricke Madame, he has,
For though he be your Taylour, he is my beast.
When he makes any fine garment will fit me,
Or any rich thing that he thinkes of price,
Then must I put it on, and be his Countesse,
Before he carry it home vnto the owners.
A coach is hir'd, and foure horse, he runnes
In his veluet Iack at thus, to Rumford, Croyden,
Hounslow, or Barnet, the next bawdy road:
And takes me out, carries me vp, and throw's me
Vpon a bed.
Lad.
Peace thou immodest woman:
She glories in the brauery o'the vice.
Lat.
Tis a queint one!
Bea.
A fine species,
Of fornicating with a mans owne wife,
Found out by (what's his name?)
Lat.
Mr Nic. Stuffe!
Host.
The very figure of preoccupation
In all his customers best clothes.
Lat.
He lies
With his owne Succuba, in all your names.
Bea.
And all your credits.
Host.
I, and at all their costs.
Lat.
This gown was then bespoken, for the Soueraigne?
Bea.
I marry was it.
Lad.
And a maine offence,
Committed 'gainst the soueraignty: being not brought
Home i'the time. Beside, the prophanation,
Which may call on the censure of the Court.
Host.
Let him be blanketted. Call vp the Quarter-master.
Deliuer him ore, to Flie.
Stu.
O good my Lord.
Host.
Pillage the Pinnace.
Lad.
Let his wife be stript.
Bea.
Blow off her vpper deck.
Lat.
Teare all her tackle.
Lad.
Pluck the polluted robes ouer her eares;
Or cut them all to pieces, make a fire o'them:
Pru.
To rags, and cinders, burn th'idolatrous vestures.
Flie, & your fellowes, see that the whole censure
Be throughly executed.
Fly.
Weel tosse him, brauely.
Till the stuffe stinke againe.
Host.
And send her home,
Diuested to her flanell, in a cart.
Lat.
And let her Footman beat the bason afore her.
Fli.
The Court shall be obei'd.
Hos.
Fly, & his officers
Will doe it fiercely.
Stu.
Mercifull queene Pru.
Pru.
I cannot help you.
Bea.
Go thy wayes Nic. Stuffe,
Thou hast nickt it for a fashioner of Venery!
Lat.
For his owne hell! though he run ten mile for't.
Pru.
O here comes Lovel, for his second houre.
Bea.
And after him, the tipe of Spanish valour.
Scene 4.
Lady.Lovel. Tipto. Latimer. Beaufort. Pru. Franke. Nurse. Host.
Seruant, what haue you there?
Lou.
A meditation,
Or rather a vision, Madam, and of Beauty
Our former subiect.
Lad.
Pray you let vs heare it.
Lov.
It was a beauty that I saw
So pure, so perfect, as the frame
Of all the vniuerse was lame,
To that one figure, could I draw,
Or giue least line of it a law!
So pure, so perfect, as the frame
Of all the vniuerse was lame,
To that one figure, could I draw,
Or giue least line of it a law!
A skeine of silke without a knot!
A faire march made without a halt!
A curious forme without a fault!
A printed booke without a blot.
All beauty, and without a spot.
A faire march made without a halt!
A curious forme without a fault!
All beauty, and without a spot.
Lad.
They are gentle words, and would deserue a note,
Set to 'hem, as gentle.
Lov.
I haue tri'd my skill.
To close the second houre, if you will heare them,
My boy by that time will haue got it perfect.
Lad.
Yes, gentle seruant. In what calme he speakes,
After this noise, and tumult, so vnmou'd,
With that serenity of countenance,
As if his thoughts did acquiesce in that
Which is the obiect of the second houre,
And nothing else.
Pru.
Well then summon the Court.
Lad.
I haue a sute to the Soueraigne of loue,
If it may stand with the honour of the Court,
To change the question but from loue, to valour,
To heare, it said, but, what true valour is,
Which oft begets true loue.
Lat.
It is a question
Fit for the Court, to take true knowledge of,
And hath my iust assent.
Pru.
Content.
Bea.
Content.
Fra.
Content. I am content, giue him his oath.
Host.
Herebert Lovel, Thou shalt sweare vpon the testament
of loue, To make answer to this question propounded
to thee by the Court, What true valour is.
And therein to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth. So help thee loue, and thy bright
sword at need.
Lov.
So help me loue and my good sword at need.
It is the greatest vertue, and the safety
Of all mankinde, the obiect of it is danger.
A certaine meane 'twixt feare, and confidence:
Of false encountring formidable things;
But a true science of distinguishing
What's good or euill. It springs out of reason,
And tends to perfect honesty, the scope
Is alwayes honour, and the publique good:
It is no valour for a priuate cause.
Bea.
No? not for reputation?
Lov
That's mans Idoll,
Set vp 'gainst God, the maker of all lawes,
Who hath commanded vs we should not kill;
And yet we say, we must for reputation.
What honest man can either feare his owne,
Or else will hurt anothers reputation?
Feare to doe base, vnworthy things, is valour,
If they be done to vs, to suffer them,
Is valour too. The office of a man
Thats truly valiant, is considerable
Three wayes: The first is in respect of matter,
Which still is danger; in respect of forme,
Wherein he must preserue his dignity;
And in the end, which must be euer lawfull.
Lat.
But men, when they are heated, and in passion,
Cannot consider.
Lov.
Then it is not valour.
I neuer thought an angry person valiant:
Vertue is neuer ayded by a vice.
What need is there of anger, and of tumult?
When reason can doe the same things, or more?
Bea.
O yes, 'tis profitable, and of vse,
It makes vs fierce, and fit to vndertake.
Lov.
Why so will drink make vs both bold, and rash.
They are poore helps, and vertue needs them not.
No man is valianter by being angry,
But he that could not valiant be without:
So, that it comes not in the aid of vertue,
But in the stead of it.
Lat.
He holds the right.
Lov.
And 'tis an odious kinde of remedy,
To owe our health to a disease.
Tip.
If man
Should follow the dictamen of his passion,
He could not scape—
Bea.
To discompose himselfe.
Lat.
According to Don Lewis!
Host.
Or Caranza!
Lov.
Good Colonel Glorious, whilst we treat of valour,
Dismisse your selfe.
Lat.
You are not concern'd.
Lov.
Go drink,
And congregate the Hostlers, and the Tapsters,
The vnder-officers o' your regiment;
Compose with them, and be not angry valiant!
Tipto goes out.
Bea.
How do's that differ from true valour?
Lov.
Thus.
In the efficient, or that which makes it,
For it proceeds from passion, not from iudgement:
Then brute beasts haue it, wicked-persons, there
It differs in the subiect: in the forme,
'Tis carried rashly, and with violence:
Then i'the end, where it respects not truth,
Or publique honesty; but mere reuenge.
Now confident, and vndertaking valour,
Swayes from the true, two other wayes; as being
A trust in our owne faculties, skill, or strength,
And not the right, or conscience o'the cause,
And not the honour.
Bea.
But the ignorant valour
That knowes not why it undertakes, but doth it
T'escape the infamy merely—
Lov.
Is worst of all:
That valour lies, i'the eyes o'the lookers on;
And is cal'd valour with a witnesse.
Bea.
Right:
Lov.
The things true valour is exercis'd about,
Are pouerty, restraint, captiuity,
Banishment, losse of children, long disease:
The least is death. Here valour is beheld,
Properly seene; about these it is present:
Not triuiall things, which but require our confidence.
And, yet to those, we must obiect our selues,
Only for honesty: if any other
Respect be mixt, we quite put out her light.
And as all knowledge, when it is remou'd
Or separate from iustice, is cal'd craft,
Rather then wisdome: so a minde affecting,
Or vndertaking dangers, for ambition,
Or any selfe pretext, not for the publique,
Deserues the name of daring, not of valour.
And ouer-daring is as great a vice,
As ouer-fearing.
Lat.
Yes, and often greater.
Lov.
But as is not the mere punishment,
But cause that, makes a martyr, so it is not
Fighting, or dying; hut the manner of it
Renders a man himselfe. A valiant man
Ought not to vndergoe, or tempt a danger,
But worthily, and by selected wayes:
He vndertakes with reason, not by chance.
They are all vnseason'd without it. The waiting maids,
Or the concomitants of it, are his patience,
His magnanimity, his confidence,
His constancy, security, and quiet;
He can assure himselfe against all rumour!
Despaires of nothing! laughs at contumelies!
As knowing himselfe, aduanced in a height
Where iniury cannot reach him, nor aspersion
Touch him with soyle!
Lad.
Most manly vtterd all!
As if Achilles had the chaire in valour,
And Hercules were but a Lecturer!
Who would not hang vpon those lips for euer!
That strike such musique? I could run on them;
But modesty is such a schoole mistresse,
To keepe our sexe in awe.
Pru.
Or you can faine! my
Subtill and dissembling Lady mistresse.
Lat.
I feare she meanes it, Pru, in too good earnest!
Lov.
The purpose of an iniury 'tis to vexe
And trouble me: now, nothing can doe that,
To him that's valiant. He that is affected
With the least iniury, is lesse then it.
It is but reasonable, to conclude
That should be stronger, still, which hurts, then that
Which is hurt. Now no wickednesse is stronger,
Then what opposeth it: Not Fortunes selfe,
When she encounters vertue, but comes off
Both lame, and lesse! why should a wise man then,
Confesse himselfe the weaker, by the feeling
Of a fooles wrong? There may an iniury
But we are, now, come to that delicacie,
And tendernesse of sense, we thinke an insolence
Worse then an iniury, beare words worse then deeds;
We are not so much troubled with the wrong,
As with the opinion of the wrong! like children,
We are made afraid with visors! Such poore sounds
As is the lie, or common words of spight.
Wise lawes thought neuer worthy a reuenge;
And 'tis the narrownesse of humane nature,
Our pouerty, and beggery of spirit,
To take exception at these things. He laugh'd at me!
He broke a iest! a third tooke place of me!
How most ridiculous quarrels are all these?
Notes of a queasie, and sick stomack, labouring
With want of a true iniury! the maine part
Of the wrong, is, our vice of taking it.
Lat.
Or our interpreting it to be such.
Lov.
You take it rightly. If a woman, or child
Giue me the lie, would I be angry? no,
Not if I were i'my wits, sure I should thinke it
No spice of a disgrace. No more is theirs,
If I will thinke it, who are to be held
In as contemptible a ranke, or worse,
I am kept out a Masque, sometime thrust out,
Made wait a day, two, three, for a great word,
Which (when it comes forth) is all frown, and forehead!
What laughter should this breed, rather then anger!
Out of the tumult, of so many errors,
To feele, with contemplation, mine owne quiet?
A Giant of the time, sure, I will beare it
Or out of patience, or necessity!
Shall I doe more for feare, then for my iudgement?
For me now to be angry with Hodge Huffle,
Or Burst (his broken charge) if he be sawcy,
Or our owne type of Spanish valour, Tipto,
(Who were he now necessited to beg
Would aske an almes, like Conde Oliuares)
Were iust to make my selfe, such a vaine Animal
As one of them. If light wrongs touch me not,
No more shall great; if not a few, not many.
There's nought so sacred with vs but may finde
A sacrilegious person, yet the thing is
No lesse diuine, cause the prophane can reach it.
He is shot-free, in battayle, is not hurt,
Not he that is not hit. So he is valiant,
That yeelds not vnto wrongs; not he that scapes 'hem:
They that do pull downe Churches, and deface
The holiest Altars, cannot hurt the God-head.
A calme wise man may shew as much true valour,
Amid'st these popular prouocations,
As can an able Captaine shew security,
By his braue conduct, through an enemies country.
A wise man neuer goes the peoples way,
But as the Planets still moue contrary
To the worlds motion; so doth he, to opinion:
He will examine, if those accidents
(Which common fame cals iniuries) happen to him
Deseruedly, or no? come they deseruedly,
If vndeseruedly, and he not guilty,
The doer of them, first, should blush, not he.
Lat.
Excellent!
Bea.
Truth, and right!
Fra.
An Oracle
Could not haue spoken more!
Lad.
Beene more beleeu'd!
Pru.
The whole Court runnes into your sentence, Sir!
And see, your second houre is almost ended.
Lad.
It cannot be! O clip the wings of time,
Good Pru, or make him stand still with a charme.
Distill the gout into it, cramps, all diseases
T'arrest him in the foot, and fix him here:
O, for an engine, to keepe backe all clocks!
Or make the Sunne forget his motion!
If I but knew what drinke the Time now lou'd,
To set my Trundle at him, mine owne Barnabe!
Pru.
Why? I'le consult our Sheele nien, To-mas.
Nur.
Er grae Chreest.
Bea.
Wake her not.
Nur.
Tower een Cuppan
D'vsque bagh doone.
Pru.
Usque bagh's her drinke.
But 'twi' not make the time drunke.
Host.
As't hath her,
Away with her, my Lord, but marry her first. Pru,
Pru.
I, that 'll be sport anone too, for my Lady.
But she hath other game to fly at yet:
The houre is come, your kisse.
Lad.
My seruants song, first.
Pru.
I say the kisse, first; and I so enioyn'd it:
At your owne perill, doe, make the contempt.
Lad.
Well Sir, you must be pay'd, and legally.
Pru.
Nay nothing, Sir, beyond.
Lov.
One more—I except.
This was but halfe a kisse, and I would change it.
Pur.
The Court's dissolu'd, remou'd, and the play ended.
Lov.
From what a happinesse hath that one word
Throwne me, into the gulfe of misery?
To what a bottomlesse despaire? how like
A Court remoouing, or an ended Play
Shewes, my abrupt precipitate estate,
By how much more my vaine hopes were encreas'd
By these false houres of conuersation?
Did not I prophesie this, of my selfe,
And gaue the true prognosticks? o my braine!
How art thou turned! and my blood congeald!
My sinewes slackned! and my marrow melted!
That I remember not where I haue bin,
Or what I am? Only my tongue's on fire;
And burning downward, hurles forth coales, & cinders,
To tell, this temple of loue, will soone be ashes!
Come Indignation, now, and be my mistresse,
No more of Loues ingratefull tyranny.
His wheele of torture, and his pits of bird-lime,
His nets of nooses, whirle-pooles of vexation,
His mils, to grind his seruants into powder—
I will goe catch the wind first in a sieue,
Weigh smoak, and measure shadowes, plough the water,
And sow my hopes there, ere I stay in Loue.
Lat.
My iealousie is off, I am now secure.
Lov.
Farewell the craft of crocodiles, womens piety,
And practise of it, in this art of flattering,
And fooling men I ha' not lost my reason,
Though I haue lent my selfe out, for two howres,
Thus to be baffuld by a Chambermaid,
Of the light Heart, here, that hath laught at all—
Host.
Who I?
Lov.
Laugh on, Sir, Ile to bed, and sleepe,
And dreame away the vapour of Loue, if th'house
And your leere drunkards let me.
Lad.
Pru.
Pru.
Sweet Madame.
Lad.
Why would you let him goe thus?
Pru.
In whose power
Was it to stay him, prop'rer then my Ladies!
Lad.
Why, in her Ladies? Are not you the Soueraigne?
Pru.
Would you, in conscience, Madame, ha'me vexe
His patience more?
Lad.
Not but apply the cure,
Now it is vex't.
Pru.
That's but one bodies worke.
Two cannot doe the same thing handsomely.
Lad.
But had not you the authority, absolute?
Pru.
And were not you i'rebellion, Lady Frampal,
From the beginning?
Lad.
I was somewhat froward,
I must confesse, but frowardnesse sometime
Becomes a beauty, being but a visor
Put on. You'l let a Lady weare her masque, Pru.
Pru.
But how do I know, when her Ladiship is pleas'd
To leaue it off, except she tell me so?
Lad.
You might ha' knowne that by my lookes, and language,
Had you beene or regardant, or obseruant.
One woman, reads anothers character,
Without the tedious trouble of deciphering:
If she but giue her mind to't, you knew well,
It could not sort with any reputation
Of mine, to come in first, hauing stood out
So long, without conditions, for mine honor.
Pru.
I thought you did expect none, you so jeer'd him,
Lad.
Who, I, with scorn?
I did expresse my loue, to idolatry rather,
And so am iustly plagu'd, not vnderstood.
Pru.
I sweare, I thought you had dissembled, Madam,
And doubt, you do so yet.
Lad.
Dull, stupid, wench!
Stay i'thy state of ignorance still, be damn'd,
An idiot Chambermayd! Hath all my care,
My breeding thee in fashion, thy rich clothes,
Honours, and titles wrought no brighter effects
On thy darke soule, then thus? Well! go thy wayes,
Were not the Tailors wife, to be demolish'd,
Ruin'd, vncas'd, thou shouldst be she, I vow.
Pru.
Why, take your spangled properties, your gown,
And scarses.
Lad.
Pru, Pru, what doest thou meane?
Pru.
I will not buy this play-boyes brauery,
At such a price, to be vpbraided for it,
Thus, euery minute.
Lad.
Take it not to heart so.
Pru.
The Taylors wife? There was a word of scorn!
Lad.
It was a word fell from me, Pru, by chance.
Pru.
Good Madame, please to vndeceaue your selfe,
I know when words do slip, and when they are darted
With all their bitternesse: vncas'd? demolish't?
An idiot—Chambermaid, stupid, and dull?
Be damn'd for ignorance? I will be so.
And thinke I doe deserue it, that, and more,
Much more I do.
Lad.
Here comes mine Host! No crying!
Good Pru. Where is my seruant Lovel, Host?
Hos.
Yo ha sent him vp to bed, would, you would follow him!
And make my house amends!
Lad.
Would you aduise it?
Hos.
I would I could command it. My light heart
Lad.
Pray thee be not sollen,
I yet must ha' thy counsell. Thou shalt weare, Pru,
The new gowne, yet.
Pru.
After the Taylours wife?
Lad.
Come, be not angrie, or grieu'd: I haue a proiect.
Hos.
Wake Sheleemen Thomas! Is this your Heraldrie?
And keeping of records, to loose the maine?
Where is your charge?
Nur.
Gra chreest!
Hos.
Goe aske th'oracle
O'the bottle, at your girdle, there you lost it:
You are a sober setter of the watch.
| The Nevv Inne. Or, The light Heart | |