 | Women beware Women |  |
Scæn. 2.
Enter Guardiano and Livia.Liv.
How Sir, a Gentlewoman, so yong so fair,
As you set forth, spi'd from the Widows window!
Guard.
Shee!
Liv.
Our Sunday-dinner woman?
Guard.
And thursday Supper-woman, the same still.
I know not how she came by her, but I'll swear
She's the prime gallant for a face, in Florence;
And no doubt other parts follow their Leader:
The Duke himself first spi'd her at the window;
Then in a rapture, as if admiration
Were poor when it were single, beck'ned me,
And pointed to the wonder warily,
As one that fear'd she would draw in her splendor
Too soon, if too much gaz'd at: I nev'r knew him
So infinitely taken with a woman,
Nor can I blame his Appetite, or tax
His Raptures of slight folly; she's a Creature
Able to draw a State from serious business,
And make it their best peece to do her service:
What course shall we devise? h'as spoke twice now.
Liv:
Twice?
Guard.
'Tis beyond your apprehension.
How strangly that one look has catch'd his heart!
'Twould prove but too much worth in wealth and favor
To those should work his peace.
Liv.
And if I do't not,
Or at least come as near it, (if your Art
Will take a little pains, and second me)
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I'll quite give o'r, and shut up shop in cunning.
Guard:
'Tis for the Duke, and if I fail your purpose,
All means to come, by riches or advancement,
Miss me, and skip me over.
Liv:
Let the old woman then
Be sent for with all speed, then I'll begin.
Guard.
A good conclusion follow, and a sweet one
After this stale beginning with old ware. Within there!
Enter Servant.
Serv.
Sir, do you call?
Guard.
Come near, list hither.
Liv.
I long my self to see this absolute Creature.
That wins the heart of love, and praise so much.
Guard:
Go Sir, make haste.
Liv.
Say I entreat her company;
Do you hear Sir?
Serv.
Yes Madam.
Exit.
Liv.
That brings her quickly.
Guard.
I would 'twere done, the Duke waits the good hour,
And I wait the good Fortune that may spring from't.
I have had a lucky hand these fifteen year
At such Court Passage with theee Dice in a Dish. Seignior Fabritio!
Enter Fabritio.
Fab.
Oh Sir, I bring an alteration in my mouth now.
Guard.
An alteration! no wise Speech I hope;
He means not to talk wisely, does he trow?
Good! what's the change I pray Sir?
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A new change.
Guard.
Another yet! faith there's enough already.
Fab.
My daughter loves him now.
Guard.
What does she Sir?
Fab.
Affects him beyond thought, who but the Ward forsooth!
No talk but of the Ward; she would have him
To chuse 'bove all the men she ever saw.
My Will goes not so fast, as her consent now;
Her duty gets before my command still.
Guard:
Why then Sir, if you'll have me speak my thoughts,
I smell 'twill be a match.
Fab.
I, and a sweet yong couple,
If I have any judgment.
Guard.
Faith that's little:
Let her be sent to morrow before noon,
And handsomly trick'd up; for 'bout that time
I mean to bring her in, and tender her to him.
Fab.
I warrant you for handsom, I will see
Her things laid ready, every one in order,
And have some part of her trick'd up to night.
Guard.
Why well said.
Fab.
'Twas a use her Mother had,
When she was invited to an early wedding;
She'ld dress her head o'r night, spunge up her self,
And give her neck three lathers.
Guard.
Ne'r a halter?
Fab.
On with her chain of Pearl, her ruby Bracelets,
Lay ready all her tricks, and Jiggam-bobs.
Guard.
So must your daughter.
Fab.
I'll about it straight Sir.
Exit Fabritio.
Liv.
How he sweats in the foolish zeal of Fatherhood,
After six ounces an hour, and seems
To toil as much as if his cares were wise ones!
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Y'have let his folly blood in the right vein, Lady.
Liv.
And here comes his sweet Son-in-law that shall be;
They're both alli'd in wit before the marriage;
What will they be hereafter, when they are neerer?
Yet they can go no further then the Fool:
There's the worlds end in both of 'em.
Enter Ward and Sordido, one with a Shittlecock the other a Battledoor.
Guard.
Now yong-heir!
Ward.
What's the next business after Shittlecock now?
Guard.
To morrow you shall see the Gentlewoman
Must be your wife.
Ward.
There's ev'n an other thing too
Must be kept up with a pair of Battledoors.
My wife! what can she do?
Guard.
Nay that's a question you should ask your self, Ward,
When y'are alone together.
Ward.
That's as I list.
A wife's to be ask anywhere I hope;
I'll ask her in a Congregation, if I have a minde
to't, and so save a Licence: My Guardiner has no
more wit then an Herb-woman that sells away all
her sweet Herbs and Nose-gays, and keeps a stinking
breath for her own Pottage.
Sord.
Let me be at the chusing of your beloved,
If you desire a woman of good parts.
Ward.
Thou shalt sweet Sordido.
Sord.
I have a plaguy ghess, let me alone to see
what she is; if I but look upon her—way, I
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for.
Ward.
Do'st thou! I prethee let me hear 'em Sordido:
Sord.
Well, mark 'em then; I have 'em all in rime.
The wife your Guardiner ought to tender,
Should be pretty, straight and slender;
Heir hair not short, her foot not long,
Her hand not huge, nor too too loud her tongue:
No pearl in eye, nor ruby in her nose,
No burn or cut, but what the Catalogue shows.
She must have teeth, and that no black ones,
And kiss most sweet when she does smack once.
Her skin must be both white and plump,
Her body straight, not hopper rumpt,
Or wriggle side-ways like a Crab;
She must be neither Slut nor Drab,
Nor go too splay-foot with her shooes,
To make her Smock lick up the dews.
And two things more, which I forgot to tell ye
She neither must have bump in back, nor belly:
These are the faults that will not make her pass.
Ward.
And if I spie not these, I am a rank Ass.
Sord.
Nay more; by right Sir, you should see her naked,
For that's the ancient order.
Ward.
See her naked?
That were good sport y'faith: I'll have the Books turn'd over;
And if I finde her naked on Record,
She shall not have a rag on: But stay, stay,
How if she should desire to see me so too,
I were in a sweet case then, such a fowl skin:
Sord.
But y'have a clean shirt, and that makes amends Sir.
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I will not see her naked for that trick though.
Exit.
Sord.
Then take her with all faults, with her cloaths on!
And they may hide a number with a bum-roll.
'Faith chusing of a Wench in a huge Farthingale,
Is like the buying of ware under a great Pent-house.
What with the deceit of one,
And the false light of th'other, mark my Speeches,
He may have a diseas'd Wench in's Bed,
And rotten stuff in's Breeches.
Exit.
Guard.
It may take handsomly:
Liv.
I see small hind'rance:
How now, so soon return'd?
Enter Mother.
Guard.
She's come.
Liv.
That's well.
Widdow, come, come, I have a great quarrel to you,
Faith I must chide you, that you must be sent for!
You make your self so strange, never come at us;
And yet so neer a neighbor, and so unkinde;
Troth y'are too blame, you cannot be more welcome
To any house in Florence, that I'll tell you.
Moth.
My thanks must needs acknowledge so much Madam:
Liv.
How can you be so strange then? I sit here
Sometime whole days together without company,
When business draws this Gentleman from home,
And should be happy in society,
Which I so well affect, as that of yours.
I know y'are alone too; why should not we
Like two kinde neighbors, then supply the wants
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Experience in the world, and such kinde helps
To laugh down time, and meet age meerly?
Moth.
Age (Madam) you speak mirth; 'tis at my door,
But a long journey from your Ladiship yet.
Liv.
My faith I'm nine and thirty, ev'ry stroak Wench,
And 'tis a general observation
'Mongst Knights, Wives, or Widows, we accompt
Our selves then old, when yong mens eyes leave looking at's:
'Tis a true rule amongst us, and ne'r fail'd yet
In any but in one, that I remember;
Indeed she had a friend at nine and forty;
Marry she paid well for him, and in th'end
He kept a Quean or two with her own money,
That robb'd her of her plate, and cut her throat.
Moth.
She had her punishment in this world (Madam)
And a fair warning to all other women,
That they live chaste at fifty.
Liv.
I, or never Wench:
Come, now I have thy company I'll not part with't
Till after supper.
Moth.
Yes, I must crave pardon (Madam)
Liv.
I swear you shall stay supper; we have no strangers, woman,
None but my sojourners and I; this Gentleman
And the yong heir his Ward; you know our company.
Moth.
Some other time, I will make bold with you Madam.
Guard.
Nay pray stay Widow.
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'Faith, she shall not go;
Do you think I'll be forsworn?
Table and —Chess.
Moth.
'Tis a great while
Till supper time; I'll take my leave then now (Madam)
And come again i'th' evening! since your Ladiship
Will have it so.
Liv.
I'th' evening by my troth Wench,
I'll keep you while I have you; you have great business sure,
To sit alone at home; I wonder strangely
What pleasure you take in't! were't to me now
I should be ever at one Neighbours house
Or other all day long; having no charge.
Or none to chide you, if you go, or stay,
Who may live merrier, I, or more at hearts-ease?
Come, we'll to Chess, or Draughts; there are an hundred tricks
To drive out time till Supper, never fear't Wench.
Moth.
I'll but make one step home, and return straight (Madam)
Liv.
Come, I'll not trust you; you use more excuses
To your kinde friends then ever I knew any.
What business can you have, if you be sure
Y'have lock'd the doors? and that being all you have
I know y'are careful on't: one afternoon
So much to spend here! say I should entreat you now
To lie a night or two, or a week with me,
Or leave your own house for a moneth together,
It were a kindness that long Neighborhood
And friendship might well hope to prevail in:
Would you deny such a request? y'faith,
Speak truth, and freely:
Moth.
I were then uncivil Madam.
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Go too then, set your men; we'll have whole nights
Of mirth together, ere we be much older, Wench.
Moth.
As good now tell her then, for she will know't;
I have always found her a most friendly Lady.
Liv.
Why Widow, where's your minde?
Moth.
Troth ev'n at home Madam.
To tell you truth, I left a Gentlewoman
Ev'n sitting all alone, which is uncomfortable,
Especially to yong bloods.
Liv.
Another excuse!
Moth.
No, as I hope for health, Madam, that's a truth;
Please you to send and see:
Liv.
What Gentlewoman? pish.
Moth.
Wife to my son indeed, but not known (Madam)
To any but yourself.
Liv.
Now I beshrew you,
Could you be so unkinde to her and me,
To come and not bring her? Faith 'tis not friendly.
Moth.
I fear'd to be too bold.
Liv.
Too bold? Oh what's become
Of the true hearty love was wont to be
'Mongst Neighbors in old time?
Moth.
And she's a stranger (Madam).
Liv.
The more should be her welcome; when is courtesie
In better practice, then when 'tis employ'd
In entertaining strangers? I could chide y'Faith.
Leave her behinde, poor Gentlewoman, alone too!
Make some amends, and send for her betimes, go.
Moth.
Please you command one of your Servants Madam.
Liv.
Within there.
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Serv.
Madam.
Liv.
Attend the Gentlewoman.
Moth.
It must be carried wondrous privately
From my Sons knowledge, he'll break out in storms else.
Hark you Sir.
Liv.
Now comes in the heat of your part.
Guard.
True, I know it (Lady) and if I be out,
May the Duke banish me from all employments,
Wanton, or serious.
Liv.
So, have you sent Widow?
Moth.
Yes (Madam) he's almost at home by this.
Liv.
And 'faith let me entreat you, that hence forward,
All such unkinde faults may be swept from friendship,
Which does but dim the lustre; and think thus much
It is a wrong to me, that have ability
To bid friends welcome, when you keep 'em from me,
You cannot set greater dishonor neer me;
For Bounty is the credit and the glory
Of those that have enough: I see y'are sorry,
And the good mends is made by't.
Moth.
Here she's Madam:
Enter Brancha, and Servant.
Bran:
I wonder how she comes to send for me now?
Liv.
Gentlewoman, y'are most welcome, trust me y'are,
125
Due to the presence of you.
Bran.
I give you thanks, Lady.
Liv.
I heard you were alone, and 't had appear'd
An ill condition in me, though I knew you not,
Nor ever saw you, (yet humanity
Thinks ev'ry case her own) to have kept your company
Here from you, and left you all solitary:
I rather ventur'd upon boldness then
As the least fault, and wish'd your presence here;
A thing most happily motion'd of that Gentleman,
Whom I request you, for his care and pity
To honor and reward with your acquaintance,
A Gentleman that Ladies rights stands for,
That's his profession.
Bran.
'Tis a noble one, and honors my acquaintance.
Guard.
All my intentions are servants to such Mistresses.
Bran.
'Tis your modesty
It seems, that makes your deserts speak so low Sir.
Liv.
Come Widow, look you Lady, here's our business;
Are we not well employ'd think you! an old quarrel
Between us, that will never be at an end.
Bran.
No, and methinks there's men enough to part you (Lady).
Liv.
Ho! but they set us on, let us come off
As well as we can, poor souls, men care no farther.
I pray sit down forfooth, if you have the patience
To look upon two weak and tedious Gamesters.
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Faith Madam, set these by till evening,
You'll have enough on't then; the Gentlewoman
Being a stranger, would take more delight
To see your rooms and pictures.
Liv.
Marry, good Sir,
And well remembred, I beseech you shew 'em her;
That will beguile time well; pray heartily do Sir,
I'll do as much for you; here take these keys,
Shew her the Monument too, and that's a thing
Every one sees not; you can witness that Widow.
Moth.
And that's worth sight indeed, Madam.
Bran.
Kinde Lady,
I fear I came to be a trouble to you.
Liv.
Oh nothing less forsooth.
Bran.
And to this courteous Gentleman,
That wears a kindness in his Brest so noble
And bounteous to the welcome of a stranger.
Guard.
If you but give acceptance to my service,
You do the greatest grace and honor to me
That curtesie can merit.
Bran.
I were too blame else,
And out of fashion much. I pray you lead Sir.
Liv.
After a game or two, w'are for you Gentle folks.
Guard.
We wish no better seconds in Society
Then your discourses, Madam, and your partners there.
Moth.
I thank your praise, I listen'd to you Sir;
Though when you spoke, there came a paltry Rook
Full in my way, and choaks up all my game:
Exit Guardiano & Brancha.
Liv.
Alas poor Widow, I shall be too hard for thee.
Moth.
Y'are cunning at the game, I'll be sworn (Madam).
Liv.
It will be found so, ere I give you over:
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Moth.
As you do (Madam).
Liv.
As I shall (Wench) can never lose her game;
Nay, nay, the black King's mine.
Moth.
Cry you mercy (Madam).
Liv.
And this my Queen.
Moth.
I see't now.
Liv.
Here's a Duke
Will strike a sure stroke for the game anon;
Your pawn cannot come back to relieve it self.
Moth.
I know that (Madam.)
Liv.
You play well the whilst;
How she belies her skill. I hold two duckats,
I give you Check and Mate to your white King:
Simplicity it self, your Saintish King there.
Moth.
Well, ere now Lady
I have seen the fall of Subtilty: Jest on.
Liv.
I but Simplicitie receives two for one.
Moth.
What remedy but patience!
Enter above Guardiano and Brancha.
Bran:
Trust me Sir,
Mine eye nev'r met with fairer Ornaments.
Guard.
Nay, livelier, I'm perswaded, neither Florence
Nor Venice can produce.
Bran.
Sir, my opinion
Takes your part highly.
Guard.
There's a better peece
Yet then all these.
—Duke above
Bran.
Not possible Sir!
Guard.
Believe it
You'll say so when you see't: Turn but your eye now
Y'are upon't presently.
Exit.
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Oh Sir.
Duke.
He's gone Beauty!
Pish, look not after him: He's but a vapor,
That when the Sun appears, is seen no more.
Bran.
Oh treachery to honor!
Duke.
Prethee tremble not;
I feel thy brest shake like a Turtle panting
Under a loving hand that makes much on't;
Why art so fearful? as I'm friend to brightness,
There's nothing but respect and honor near thee:
You know me, you have seen me; here's a heart
Can witness I have seen thee.
Bran.
The more's my danger.
Duke.
The more's thy happiness: Pish strive not Sweet;
This strength were excellent employ'd in love now,
But here's 'tis spent amiss; strive not to seek
Thy liberty, and keep me still in prison.
'Yfaith you shall not out, till I'm releast now;
We'll be both freed together, or stay still by't;
So is captivity pleasant.
Bran.
Oh my Lord.
Duke.
I am not here in vain; have but the leisure
To think on that, and thou'lt be soon resolv'd:
The lifting of thy voice, is but like one
That does exalt his enemy, who proving high,
Lays all the plots to confound him that rais'd him.
Take warning I beseech thee; thou seem'st to me
A creature so compos'd of gentleness,
And delicate meekness; such as bless the faces
Of figures that are drawn for Goddesses,
And makes Art proud to look upon her work:
I should be sorry the least force should lay
An unkinde touch upon thee.
Bran.
Oh my extremity!
My Lord, what seek you?
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Love.
Bran.
'Tis gone already,
I have a husband.
Duke.
That's a single comfort,
Take a friend to him.
Bran.
That's a double mischeif,
Or else there's no Religion.
Duke.
Do not tremble
At fears of thine own making.
Bran.
Nor great Lord,
Make me not bold with death and deeds of ruine
Because they fear not you; me they must fright;
Then am I best in health: Should thunder speak,
And none regard it, it had lost the name,
And were as good be still, I'm not like those
That take their soundest sleeps in greatest tempests,
Then wake I most, the weather fearfullest,
And call for strength to vertue.
Duke.
Sure I think
Thou know'st the way to please me. I affect
A passionate pleading, 'bove an easie yeilding,
But never pitied any, they deserve none
That will not pity me: I can command,
Think upon that; yet if thou truly knewest
The infinite pleasure my affection takes
In gentle, fair entreatings, when loves businesses
Are carried curteously 'twixt heart and heart,
You'ld make more haste to please me.
Bran.
Why should you seek Sir,
To take away that you can never give?
Duke.
But I give better in exchange; wealth, honor:
She that is fortunate in a Dukes favor,
Lights on a Tree that bears all womens wishes:
If your own Mother saw you pluck fruit there,
She would commend your wit, and praise the time
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Do not I know y'have cast away your life
Upon necessities, means meerly doubtful
To keep you in indifferent health and fashion.
(A thing I heard too lately, and soon pitied)
And can you be so much your Beauties enemy,
To kiss away a moneth or two in wedlock,
And weep whole years in wants for ever after?
Come play the wife wench, and provide for ever;
Let storms come when they list, they finde thee shelter'd:
Should any doubt arise, let nothing trouble thee;
Put trust in our love for the managing
Of all to thy hearts peace. We'll walk together,
And shew a thankful joy for both our fortunes.
Exit above.
Liv.
Did not I say my Duke would fetch you over (Widow)?
Moth.
I think you spoke in earnest when you said it (Madam).
Liv.
And my black King makes all the haste he can too.
Moth.
Well (Madam) we may meet with him in time yet.
Liv.
I have given thee blinde mate twice.
Moth.
You may see (Madam)
My eyes begin to fail.
Liv.
I'll swear they do, Wench.
Enter Guardiano.
Guard.
I can but smile as often as I think on't,
How prettily the poor fool was beguild:
How unexpectedly; it's a witty age,
Never were finer snares for womens honesties
Then are devis'd in these days; no Spiders web
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To catch loves flesh-flie by the silver wing:
Yet to prepare her stomach by degrees
To Cupids feast, because I saw 'twas quezy,
I shew'd her naked pictures by the way;
A bit to stay the appetite. Well, Advancement!
I venture hard to finde thee; if thou com'st
With a greater title set upon thy Crest,
I'll take that first cross patiently, and wait
Until some other comes greater then that.
I'll endure all.
Liv.
The game's ev'n at the best now; you may see Widow
How all things draw to an end.
Moth.
Ev'n so do I Madam.
Liv.
I pray take some of your neighbors along with you.
Moth.
They must be those are almost twice your years then,
If they be chose fit matches for my time, Madam.
Liv.
Has not my Duke bestir'd himself?
Moth.
Yes faith Madam; h'as done me all the mischief in this Game.
Liv.
H'as shew'd himself in's kinde.
Moth.
In's kinde, call you it?
I may swear that.
Liv.
Yes faith, and keep your oath.
Guard.
Hark, list, there's some body coming down; 'tis she.
Enter Brancha.
Bran.
Now bless me from a blasting; I saw that now,
Fearful for any womans eye to look on;
Infectious mists, and mill-dews hang at's eyes:
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Yet since mine honors Leprous, who should I
Preserve that fair that caus'd the Leprosie?
Come poyson all at once: Thou in whose baseness
The bane of Vertue broods, I'm bound in Soul
Eternally to curse thy smooth brow'd treachery,
That wore the fair vail of a friendly welcome,
And I a stranger; think upon't, 'tis worth it.
Murders pil'd up upon a guilty spirit,
At his last breath will not lie heavier
Then this betraying Act upon thy Conscience:
Beware of offring the first-fruits to sin;
His weight is deadly, who commits with strumpets,
After they have been abas'd, and made for use;
If they offend to th'death, as wise men know,
How much more they then that first make 'em so?
I give thee that to feed on; I'm made bold now,
I thank thy treachery; sin and I'm acquainted,
No couple greater; and I'm like that great one,
Who making politick use of a base villain,
He likes the Treason well, but hates the Traytor;
So I hate thee slave.
Guard.
Well, so the Duke love me,
I fare not much amiss then; two great Feasts
Do seldom come together in one day;
We must not look for 'em.
Bran.
What at it still Mother?
Moth.
You see we sit by't; are you so soon return'd?
Liv.
So lively, and so chearful, a good sign that.
Moth.
You have not seen all since sure?
Bran.
That have I Mother,
The Monument and all: I'm so beholding
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You'ld little think it (Mother) show'd me all,
Had me from place to place, so fashionably;
The kindness of some people, how't exceeds?
'Faith, I have seen that I little thought to see,
I'th' morning when I rose.
Moth.
Nay, so I told you
Before you saw't, it would prove worth your sight.
I give you great thanks for my daughter Sir,
And all your kindness towards her.
Guard.
O good Widow!
Much good may do her; forty weeks hence, y'faith.
Enter Servant.
Liv.
Now Sir.
Serv.
May't please you Madam to walk in,
Supper's upon the Table?
Liv.
Yes, we come;
Wilt please you Gentlewoman?
Bran.
Thanks vertuous Lady,
(Y'are a damn'd Baud) I'll follow you forsooth,
Pray take my Mother in, an old Ass go with you;
This Gentleman and I vow not to part.
Liv.
Then get you both before.
Bran.
There lies his art.
Exeunt.
Liv.
Widow I'll follow you; is't so, Damn'd Baud?
Are you so bitter? 'Tis but want of use;
Her tender modesty is Sea-sick a little,
Being not accustom'd to the breaking billow
Of Womans wavering Faith, blown with temptations.
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A little bitter for the time, but lasts not.
Sin tastes at the first draught like Worm-wood Water,
But drunk again, 'tis Nectar ever after.
Exit.
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