 | A Woman is a Weather-cocke |  |
Actus Quartus.
Enter Scudmore and Neuill.I see great'st Spirits can serue to their owne ends,
Were you the seeming Seruing-man that past by?
Scud.
By my sad heart I was, and not a Tittle
Of my relation to thee wrong or faign'd.
Neu.
Introth you were too blame to venter so,
Mischiefes finde vs, we need not mischiefes seeke;
I am not ti'de to that opinion,
They are like women, which do alwaies shun
Their louers and pursuers, and do follow
All mischiefe that I had is but one woman,
and that one woman all mischance to me,
Who speaks worst of them, then's the best of men,
They are like shaddowes, mischiefes are like them.
Death feares me, for introth I seeke him out;
The Sun is stale to me, to morrow Morne
as this, t'will rise, I see no difference;
The night doth visit me, but in one roabe,
She brings as many thoughts as she weares Starres
When she is pleasant, but no rest at all,
For what new strange thing should I couet life then?
Is not she false, whom onely I thought true?
Shall time to shew his strength make Scudmore liue.
Till (perish the vicious thought) I loue not thee,
Or thou deere friend, remoue thy heart from me.
Neu.
Time is as weake for that, as he is old,
Take comfort, and attend this counsell friend,
This match is neither Sacred nor sure,
Close Fate annihilates what Opinion makes,
and since she is resolu'd this night to die,
If you do not redeeme her, giue the meanes,
Or her bloud (credit me) will spring heauier greefes,
Sorer and stranger in thy oppressed hart
Then her false loue before. Besides, tis you
My Scudmore that are false, if you will not
Consent to let her make Vowes good, which were
But in a possibility to be broke,
This her Repentance casts her vice quite off:
and if you leaue her now, you take it on,
Nay you incurre a bloody mortall sinne,
You do become an actuall murtherer.
If you neglect her, she will kill her selfe
This night, by poyson, knife, or other meanes,
God giues you power to crosse her desperate will,
and if you saue not where you may, you kill.
Scn.
Why can my Noble and wise friend, thinke still
That what a woman saies, her heart doth meane?
Can you beleeue that she wil kil hir selfe.
and God forbid, that any womans minde
Should not be chang'd and chang'd in a long houre.
She is by this time in her Lorldly armes,
and like pleas'd Iuno, claspt by Iupiter,
Forgets the plaints of poore mortality,
Such state, such pride, as Poets shew her in,
Incenst with Ioues loose scapes vpon the earth,
She cast on me at our encountering;
As cold and heauie, as a Rocke of Ice
In her loue to me, which while I there staide,
My bitter and hot words resolu'd a little,
(Iust as the Sun doth Ice) I soften'd her,
and make her drowne her fault in her owne teares,
But thinke you she holds this flexible vaine:
No, I'me remou'd, and shee's congeal'd againe.
Neu.
How well does Scudmore speake, ill for himselfe,
Wit's a disease, that fit employment wants,
Therefore we see, those happiest in best parts,
and vnder-borne fortunes vnder their merrits,
Grow to a sullen enuie, hate, and scorne
Of their Superiors; and at last, like winds
Breake forth into rebellious ciuil warres,
Or priuate Treasons; none so apt for these,
as melancholy wits fetter'd with neede.
How free's the Rusticke Swaine from these assaults,
He neuer feeles a passion all his life,
But when he cannot sleepe, or hunger gripes;
And though he want Reason, Wit, Art, nay Sence,
Is not so sencelesse to capitulate,
and aske God why he made not him as great
As that same foolish Lord, or that rich knaue:
His braines with nothing does Negotiate,
But his hard Husbandry, which makes him liue.
But haue we worthy gifts, as Iudgement, Learning,
Ingenious sharpnesse, which wise God indeed,
Doth seldome giue out of his equall hand,
With Riches which he clogs with ignorance,
We vent our blessing in prophane conceits,
Or in strong Arguments against our selues,
Foule Bawdry, and starke blindly hold it best,
Rather to loose a soule, then loose a iest.
Scud.
Ill tearmes my friend, this wit in any man,
(For that but season'd with discretion)
Holds him in awe of all these blemishes,
Free's him of enuie, doth Phylosophize
His Spirit, that he makes no difference
Twixt man and man, twixt fortunes high and low,
But as the thicker they with vertues grow,
Freedome and bondage wit can make al one;
So t'would by being left, and being lou'd,
If I had any of it temper'd so:
But you haue spoke all this condemning me,
For hauing wit to speake against my selfe,
But Ile be rul'd by you in all.
Ne.
Then thus:
To night by promise, I do giue a Maske,
as to congratulate the Bridall day,
In which the Count, Pendant, and the wise Knight,
Will be most worthy dancers, Sir you shall,
Learne but my part, which I will teach you to,
as nimbly as the Vsher did teach me,
and follow my further directions,
Though I i'th Morne were a prodigious wight,
Ile giue thee Bellafront in thine armes to night.
Scud.
I am your property, my Enginer
Prosper your purposes, shine thou eie of heauen,
and make thie lowring Morne, a smiling Eeuen.
Exeunt
Enter Cap. Powts with a Letter, and Strange like a Souldier.
Stran.
Oh, these are Lambeth fields.
Cap.
Strange murther'd on the wedding day by you,
At his owne Brides appointment, for my sake?
Stran.
As dead as Charity.
Cap.
This sounds not well.
Zoones, you may say as well I am the man,
as doubt he liues, a plague of your beleefe,
De'e know this bloodie Ruffe which she has sent,
Least you should be incredulous, and this Ring
Which you haue seene her weare?
Cap.
I know the Ring,
and I haue seene the Ruffe about his necke,
This comes of enforc'd marriages; Where was't done?
And how escap't you?
Stran.
Sir receiue it briefly:
I am her Kinsman, and being newly come
Ouer, and not intending to stay long,
Tooke this day to go see my Cozen Worldly,
(For so my Name is) where I found all of them
So deepely drenched in the Bridall cup,
That sleepe had tane possession of their eies;
Bacchus had giuen them such an ouerthrow,
Their bodies lay like slaughtered carkasses;
One heere, one there, making such anticke faces,
as drunkennesse had mockt at drunkennesse,
Introth their postures and their sleepe like death,
(For their's, was liker death, then sober sleepe)
Remembred me of body-scattered fields,
after the bloudie battels I haue seene,
Twas such a season. To make short my tale,
as Fate had said, Now murthers may be done
and ne're reueal'd, approaching further, I
Lighted vpon a Chamber, where your Loue
Sat by this Merchant cast drunke on the bed,
Shee weeping and lamenting her mishap,
assur'd both of my daring, and my trust,
Fell flat vpon the ground, tehn rais'd her selfe,
Hung on my necke, then sunke downe to my legs,
Told all things past to day, and neuer ceast
Till I had tane life from that halfe dead man
Before, whom straight I strangled with this Rope.
Cap.
You haue shew'd some kindnes to mee, I must loue
you Sir,
Stran.
Hauing first
By her direction put on these his Cloaths,
That like the Murther'd man, the safelyer
I might passe with her, being her Husbands shape,
If any of the Seruants had beene wak'd,
She shew'd me to a necessarie vault,
Within a Closset in the Chamber too,
and there I threw the bodie.
Cap.
Whence this bloud?
Str.
That she her selfe first, let out of his vaines,
Wherein she dipt the Ruffe about his necke:
and said, Go beare this Ensigne of my loue,
To assure him what I dar'd for his deare sake.
Cap.
Where is the Maide?
Stran.
Captaine a Maide for you,
But well you know (I hope) she is no Maide,
But Maide or no Maide, she is at my Mothers,
Whence I will bring her whether you'le appoint
To night, and let this Tide conuey all hence,
For staying will be something perillous.
Cap.
Sir, I wil kill two men for you till then
I owe my life to you, and if euer Rackes,
Strapadoes, wheele, or any torturous Engine,
Euen from the Roman Yoke, to the Scotch Boote,
Force me discouer you, or her, to Law,
Pray God the Merchant may re-spire againe,
But what a Villaine haue I beene ro wrong her?
Did she not tell you how I iniur'd her?
Stra.
She said you challeng'd her, and publickly
Told you had lay'n with her, but Truths no wrong.
Cap.
Truth, t'was more false then Hell, & you shall see me,
(As Well, as I can repent of any sinne)
Aske her forgiuenesse for wounding of her Name,
and gainst the world recouer her lost fame.
Kind soule, would I could weepe, to make amends
Why I did slander her at the Church doore.
The more base Villaine thou.
Strike him.
Cap.
Ha, what's the newes?
Stran.
Thou vnspeakeable Rascall, thou a Souldier,
a Captaine of the Suburbs, a poore forst,
That with thy Slops, and Cat a Mountaines face,
Thy blather chops, and thy robustious words,
Fright'st the poore whore, and terribly dost exact,
a weekely Subsidie, twelue pence a peece,
Whereon thou liu'st, and on my Conscience
Thou snapst besides, with cheats and Cut-purses.
Cap.
Hart, this is some rayling Poet, why you Rogue?
Str.
Thou Rogue, far worse then Rogues, thou slanderer
Ca.
Thou worse then slanderous Rogues, thou murderer
Stran.
Tis well remember'd, I will cut thy throat,
To appease that Merchants soule, which ne're will rest,
Till some reuenge be raken on thy tongue.
Cap.
Ile kill the first, and in thy vitall floud,
Fight.
VVash my hands cleane of that yong Merchants bloud.
Stra.
You fight as if you had fought afore,
I can still hold my sword, come on Sir.
Cap.
Zoones can you ward so well, I thinke you are one
of the Noble science of Defence.
Stra.
True, a'th Science of Noble Defence I am,
That fight in safegard of a vertuous name.
Cadit Cap:
Cap.
Oh, now I vnderstand you, and you stand ouer me,
My hurts are not mortal, but you haue the better, if your
name be Worldly, be thankefull for your fortune.
Stran.
Giue me thy sword, or I will kill thee.
Ca.
Some wiser then some, I loue my reputation wel, yet I
am not so valiant an asse, but I loue my life better, thers my sword
Str.
Then get vpon my back, come al shalbe wel.
Ile carry thee vnto a Surgeon first, & then vnto thy wench,
Come we are friends.
Cap.
Godamercy, zoones methinkes I see my selfe in
Moore-fields, vpon a wodden leg, begging three pence.
Stra.
I thank thee heauen for my successe in this,
To what perfection is my busines growne.
Seldom or neuer is right ouerthrowne.
Exit with Cap. on his backe.
Pen.
They say euerie woman has a Sprindge to catch a
Wood-cocke, remember my instructions, and let mee see
what a Paradice thou canst bring this foole into. 15. hundered
a yeare wench, wil make vs all merrie, but a foole to
boot; why we shall throw the house out at window; Let
mee see, there are two thinges in this foolish Transitorie
world, which should be altogether regarded, profite and
pleasure, or pleasure and profit, I know not which to place
first, for indeed, they are Twinnes, and were borne together;
for Profit, this Marriage (God speed it) marries you
to it, and for pleasure, if I helpe you not to that as cheape
as any man in England, call me Cut, and so remember my
instructions, for Ile go fetch Sir Abraham.
Exit.
Wag.
Your instructions; Nay faith, you shall see I haue
as fruitfull a braine as a belly, you shall heare some additions
of my owne, my fantasie euen kickes like my Bastard:
well Boy, for I know thou art Masculine, neither thy Father
nor thy Mother had any fœminine qualitie, but one,
and that was to take a good thing when it was proffer'd;
when thou inherit'st Land, strange both to thy Father and
Grandfather, and rid'st in a Caroch, it may bee thy Father
an old Footeman, will be running by thy side, but yonder
comes the Gentle Knight, and my Squire.
Enter Sir Abraham and Pendant stealing.
Wag.
Vnfortunate Damsell, why doost thou loue
Where thou hast sworn it neuer to reueale?
May be he would vouchsafe to looke on thee
Because he is a Knight, is it thy terror,
VVhy peraduenture he is Knight-hoods Mirror.
Pen.
De'e heare Sir Abraham?
Abra.
Yes, with standing teares.
Wag.
Beauis on Arundell with Morglay in hand,
Neere to my Knight in prowesse doth not stand;
They say Sir Beauis slew both Bore and Draggon,
My Knight for that can drinke vp a whole Flaggon,
as killing Monsters were accounted then,
Tis not thy legge, no, were it twice as good,
Throwes me into this melancholy mood,
Yet let me say and sweare, in a crosse Garter,
Poles neuer shew'd to eies a louelier quarter.
Abra.
I, but all this while she does not name mee, shee
may meane Somebody else.
Pen.
Meane Somebodie else, you shall heare her name
you by and by.
Wag.
Courteous Sir Abraham.
Pen.
Law ye there.
Wag.
Oh, thy verie name,
Like to a Hatchet cleaues my heart in twaine,
VVhen first I saw thee in those little Breeches,
I laugh'd for ioy, but when I heard thy speeches
I smil'd downe right, for I was almost franticke,
A moderne Knight should be so like an Anticke,
In words and deeds, those Pinkanies of thine,
For I shall ne're be blest to call them mine.
Abra.
Say not so, Sweet-heart.
Wag.
How they did run not rheumatickly run,
But round about the roome, one ouer one,
That wide mouth no, small, no, but Middle-size,
That Nose Dominicall, that head, like—wise.
Pen.
Very good, de'e marke that head like wise?
Abra.
She has an excellent wit.
Pen.
Ile now into her, Sir obserue what followes,
Now Turtle mourning still for the partie, for whome are
you working that purse?
Abra.
For me I warrant her.
Wag.
VVhat newes good Cozen, I hope you haue not
reueal'd my Loue.
Pend.
Yes faith, I haue acquainted the Knight withall,
and thou maist be asham'd to abuse a Gentleman so slaunderously,
he sweares he ne're lay with you.
Wag.
Lay with mee, alas no, I say not so, nor no man liuing;
he lay with me, and did you ne're heare of a child begot in me.
a Dreame.
Ab.
By this light, that very night I dreamt shee lay with me.
Pend.
I but Sir Abra: is no dreaming knight: in short,
he contemnes you, he scornes you at his heeles.
Abra.
By God so he lyes, I haue the most adoo to forbeare,
but that I would heare a little more.
Pend.
And has sent this halter, you may hang your selfe,
or you may cut your throat, heere's a knife too.
Wag.
Well, I will loue him in despight of all,
How ere he vses me, tis not the shame
Of being examin'd, or the feare of whipping.
Pend.
Make as if thou would'st kill thy selfe.
Wag.
Should moue me, wold but he vouchsafe his loue,
Beare him this purse fil'd with my latest breath,
Blowes in it
I lou'd thee Abraham Ninnie, euen in death.
Offers to stab
Abra.
Hold, hold, thy Knight commands thee for to hold,
I sent no halter, poore soule how it pants,
Take Courage, looke vp.
Pend.
Looke, Sir Abra: in person comes to see you.
Wag.
Oh, let me die then in his worships armes.
Abra.
Liue long and happy to produce thy Baby,
I am thy Knight, and thou shalt be my Lady:
Frowne Dad, fret Mother, so my loue looke chearely,
Thou hast my heart, and thou hast bought it dearely,
And for your paines, if Abraham liue to inherit,
He will not be vnmindfull of your merit;
Weare thou this Ring, whilst I thy labors Taske,
This Purse weare in my Cap, anon i'th Maske.
Wag.
Oh happie woman.
Abra.
To Supper let's, and merry be as may be.
Pe.
Now God send euerie wise knight such a Lady.
Exeunt
| A Woman is a Weather-cocke | |