University of Virginia Library

Actus Quartus.

Earthworme, Iasper.
Earth.
Out villain! how could any fire come there
But by thy negligence? I do not use
To keepe such fires, as should at all endanger
My house, much lesse my barne.

Jas.
I know not Sir,
But there I'm sure it was, and still continues,
Though without danger now; for the poore people
Ere this have quench'd it.

Earth.
There my wonder lyes.
Why should the people come to quench my fire?
Had it been in a city, where one house
Might have endanger'd all, it justly then
Might have engag'd the peoples utmost aide,
And I nere bound to give them thanks at all.
But my house stands alone, and could endanger
No other building. Why should all the people
Come running hither so to quench the fire?
They love not me.

Jas.
Sure Sir, I cannot tell;
Perhaps the people knew not what to do,
And might be glad to see a sight.

Earth.
Me thought
As I came by I saw them wondrous busy,
Nay more, me thought I heard them pray for me,
As if they lov'd me. Why should they do so?
I nere deserv'd it at the peoples hands.
Goe Jasper, tell me whether it be quench'd,
And all secure; I long to heare the newes.

Enter Theodore.
Theo.
The fire is quench'd, and little hurt is done.
I come to bring you happy tidings Sir.

Earth.
That's well, my sonne.

Theo.
But Sir, if you had seene
How the poore people labour'd to effect it,
And like so many Salamanders rush'd
Into the fire, scorching their cloaths and beards,
You would have wonder'd justly, and have thought
That each man toil'd to save his fathers house,
Or his owne deare estate; but I conceive
'Twas nothing but an honest charity
That wrought it in them.

Earth.
Ha! a charity?
Why should that charity be shew'd to me?

Theod.
If I mistake not strangely, he begins
To apprehend it.

Earth.
As I came along,
I heard them pray for me; but those good prayers
Can never pierce the skyes in my behalf,
But will returne again, and ever lodge
Within those honest breasts, that sent them forth.

Theod.
Surely it workes.

Earth.
Oh! all the world but I
Are honest men.

Theod.
What is't that troubles you?
Your goods are safe; there's nothing lost at all.
You should rejoice methinkes. You might have sufferr'd
A wondrous losse in your estate.

Earth.
Ah sonne!
'Tis not the thought of what I might have lost
That drawes these teares from me.

Theod.
Doe's he not weepe?
Or do my flattering hopes deceive my sight?
He weepes, and fully too; large showers of teares
Bedew his aged cheekes. Oh happy sorrow
That makes me weepe for joy! never did sonne
So justly glory in a fathers teares.
Sir, you are sad methinkes.

Earth.
No sadnesse, sonne,
Can be enough to expiate the crimes
That my accursed avarice has wrought.
Where are the poore?

Theod.
Why, Sir, what would you do?

Earth.
Aske me not, Theodore; alas, I feare
Thou art too much my sonne; my bad example
Has done thee much more harme then all the large
Encrease of treasure I shall leave behinde
Can recompence. But leave those wretched thoughts,
And let me teach thee a new lesson now;
But thou art learned Theodore, and soone
Wilt finde the reasons of it.

Theod.
Do you please
To speake it, Sir, and I will strive to frame
My self to follow.

Earth.
Where are all the poore?
Jasper, goe call them in. Now prethee learne,
(For this late accident may truly teach
A man what value he should set on wealth)
Fire may consume my houses, theeves may steale
My plate and jewels; all my merchandise
Is at the mercy of the windes and seas;
And nothing can be truly term'd mine own,
But what I make mine own by using well.
Those deedes of charity which we have done,
Shall stay for ever with us; and that wealth
Which we have so bestow'd, we only keepe;
The other is not ours.

Theod.
Sir, you have taught me
Not to give any thing at all away.

Earth.
When I was blinde, my sonne, and did miscal
My sordid vice of avarice true thrift.
But now forget that lesson, I prethee do;
That cosening vice, although it seeme to keepe
Our wealth, debars us from possessing it,
And makes us more then poore.

Theod.
How farre beyond
All hope, my happy project workes upon him!

Enter Neighbours.
Earth.
Y'are welcome Neighbours, welcome heartily.
I thank you all, and will hereafter study
To recompence your undeserved love.
My house shall stand more open to the poore,
More hospitable, and my wealth more free
To feed and cloath the naked hungry soules.
I will redeem the ill that I have done,
(If heaven be pleas'd to spare me life a while)
With true unfained deedes of charity.

1 Neigh.
We thank your worship.

2 Neigh.
We know ful well
Your worship has a good heart toward us.

Earth.
Alas, you do not know it, but have had
Too sad a cause to know the contrary:
Pray do not thank me till you truly finde
How much my heart is chang'd from what it was;
Till you by real and substantial deedes
Shall see my penitence, and be fully taught
How to forget or pardon all the errours
Of that my former miserable life.
Jasper, go in with them; shew them the way
Into my house.

Jas.
I think I had need to shew um;
No poore folkes heretofore have us'd this way.

Earth.
And Ile come to you, Neighbours, presently.

1 Neigh.
Long may you live.

2 Neigh.
All happinesse betide you.

3 Neigh.
And a reward fourfold in th'other world.

Earth.
How dost thou like this musicke, Theodore?
I meane the hearty prayers of the poore,
Whose curses pierce more then two-edged swords.
What comfort like to this, can riches give!
What joy can be so great, as to be able
To feede the hungry, cloath the naked man?

Theod.
Now, Sir, you think aright; for to bestow
Is greater pleasure farre then to receive.

Earth.
No vice, so much as avarice, deprives
Our life of sweetest comforts, and debarres
So much the fair society of men.
I taught thee once farre otherwise; but now
Study this last and better lesson, sonne.

Theod.
With more delight then ere I did the former.
You never yet knew scholar covetous.

Earth.
And now I think on't, Theodore, I have
A neece, the daughter of my only sister,
Her mother dy'd a widow two years since.
How shee has left her orphan daughter there
I do not know; if she have left her ill,
Ile be a father to her; prethee, goe
Enquire her out, and bring her to my house,
How well soere the world may goe with her.
Bountie's a spice of vertue, whoso can,
And won't, relieve the poore, he is no man.

Theod.
Where lives shee, Sir?

Earth.
'Tis not a mile from hence,
In the next village; thou nere saw'st her yet;
But fame has spoke her for a vertuous maide.
Yong Scudmore, while he liv'd, and was possest
Of his estate, thought to have marry'd her;
Whose death (they say) shee takes most heavily,
And with a wondrous constant sorrow mournes.

The.
Sure 'tis the same faire maid.

Earth.
Her name's Matilda.

Theod.
The very same; I can enquire her out,
And, if you please, will presently about it.

Earth.
Do, while I my Neighbours visit: he doth live
Mighty, that hath the power and will to give.

Theod.
This is the same faire nightingal that tun'd
Her sweet sad accents lately to the woods,
And did so farre enthral my heart; but that
Fond love is vanish'd. Like a kinsman now
Ile comfort her, and love her vertuous soule.
Oh what a blessed change this day has wrought
In my old father's heart! you powers that gave
Those thoughts, continue them: this day will I
Still celebrate as my nativity.

Exit.
Lady Covet. Fruitful.
La. Cov.
But is that lawful to convey away
All my estate before I marry him?

Fruit.
'Tis more then lawful, Madam, I must tell you
'Tis necessary, and you Ladyship
Is bound in conscience so to do, for else
'Twill be no longer yours, but all is his
When he has marry'd you. You cannot then
Dispose of any thing to pious uses;
You cannot shew your charity at all,
But must be govern'd by Sir Argent Scrape;
And can you tell how he'll dispose of it?

La. Cov.
'Tis true, perchance he'll take my money all,
And purchase for himself, to give away
To his own name, and put me while I live
To a poore stipend.

Fruit.
There you think aright.
You can relieve no friends, you can bequeath
Nothing at all, if he survive you, Madam,
As 'tis his hope he shall.

La. Cov.
That hope may faile him.
I am not yet so weak, but I may hop
Over his grave.

Fruit.
That is not in our knowledge.
But if you do survive him, as I hope,
Madam, you will; there is no law at all
Can barre you of your thirds in all his land,
And you besides are Mistris of your own.
And all the charitable deedes which you
After your death shall do, as building schooles
Or hospitals, shall goe in your own name;
Which otherwise Sir Argent Scrape would have,
And with your Riches build himself a fame.

La. Cov.
I grant 'tis true: but will it not seeme strange
That I should serve him so?

Fruit.
Strange, Madam? no;
Nothing is now more usual; all your widowes
Of Aldermen, that marry Lords, of late,
Make over their estates, and by that meanes
Retaine a power to curbe their lordly husbands.
When they to raise the ruines of their houses
Do marry so, instead of purchasing
What was expected, they do more engage
Their land in thirds for them.

La. Cov.
Well, I must trust
The feoffees then; but they are honest men.

Fru.
You need not fear them, they are zealous men,
Honest in all their dealings, and well known
In London, Madam. Will you seale it now?

Enter Trusty.
La. Cov.
Yes, have you it?

Fruit.
'Tis here: here's Mr. Trusty too
Your steward, Madam: he and I shall be
Enow for witnesses.

La. Cov.
'Tis true, give me
Deed, seale, Ink. Seales and delivers.
The seale. So now dispose of it as I
Entended, Mr. Fruitful.

Fruit.
I will, Madam.

La. Cov.
Trusty, come you along with me.

Exeunt.
Fruit.
Now all our ends are wrought; this is the thing
Manet Fruitful.
Which I so long have labour'd to effect.
Old covetous Lady, I will purge your minde
Of all this Wealth, that lay so heavy there,
And by evacuation make a cure
Of that your golden Dropsy, whose strange thirst
Could ne'er be satisfy'd with taking in.
You once had Wealth. But soft, let me consider;
If she should marry old Sir Argent Srape,
We could not keep it; for his money then
Would make a Suit against us, and perchance
Recover hers again. Which to prevent,
I will go spoil the marriage presently.
The sight of this will soon forbid the Banes,
And stop his love. Then she wants means to sue us.
Be sure to keep thine Adversary poor,
If thou would'st thrive in Suits. The way to scape
Revenge for one wrong, is to do another:
The second injury secures the former.
I'll presently to old Sir Argent Scrape,
And tell him this; he's meditating now
What strange additions to his large Revenue
Are coming at one happy clap, what heaps
Of Wealth to morrow he shall be possest of.
What purchases to make, how to dispose
Of her and hers. But soft, the Cards must turn.
The man must be deceiv'd, and she much more.
To cozen the deceitful is no fraud.

Exit.
Enter Sir Argent Scrape.
Scra.
Enter Fruitful.

Fruit.
Sir, I am come
To tell you news, such news as will perhaps
A little trouble you; but if your Worship
Should not have known it, 'twould have vex'd you more.

Scra.
Vex'd me? what's that can vex me now? speak man.

Fruit.
I thought that I was bound in conscience Sir
To tell it you; 'tis conscience, and the love
I bear to Truth, makes me reveal it now.

Scra.
What is the business? speak.

Fruit.
Do not suppose
That I am treacherous to my Lady Covet
To whom I do belong, in uttering this.
In such a case I serve not her but Truth,
And hate dishonest dealing.

Scra.
Come to'th' purpose.

Fruit.
Then thus it is; My Lady Covet, Sir,
Meerly to cozen you, has past away
Her whole Estate; you shall not get a peny
By marrying her.

Scra.
How man? is't possible?

Fruit.
'Tis very certain Sir, I for a need
Could shew you the Conveyance, for my hand
Is as a Witness there, so is her Stewards.

Scra.
Oh horrible deceit!

Fruit.
Ask her her self;
If she deny it, I can justifie it;
So can her Steward too.

Scra.
You make me mad.

Fruit.
I keep you from being so, by a mature
Prevention of your cozening.

Scra.
O what hopes
Am I fall'n from? who would believe these false
Deceitful creatures?

Fruit.
Sir, I could but wonder
That she would cheat so honest a Gentleman,
That came a Suiter to her for pure love.

Scra.
Love? mischief of love.

Fruit.
Alas, I know
It was not her Estate that you sought after,
Your love was honester; and then that she
Should cozen you?

Scra.
She shall not cozen me.
I'll have my Horse-Litter made ready straight,
And leave her house.

Fruit.
But when you see her Sir,
It may be your affection will return.
If you should leave her onely upon this,
The world would think that you were covetous;
And covetousness is such a sin you know.

Scra.
You do not mock me, do you?

Fruit.
Who, I Sir?
I know your Worship do's abhor the sin
Of covetousness; But I confess indeed
'Twould vexe a man to have been cozened so.

Sir Arg.
Have I liv'd all this while to be o'rereach'd
And cheated by a woman? I'll forsake her
Immediately.

Fruit.
Sir, 'tis a happy thing
When men can love with such discretion,
As to forsake, when they shall see just cause.
Some are so fond in their affections,
That though provok'd by all the injuries
That can be off'red, they can never leave
The Mistriss of their Hearts.

Sir Arg.
I warrant her
For any such affection in old Argent.

Fruit.
I do believe it Sir, you are too wise.

Enter Lady Covet.
Lad. Cov.
How do you Sir?

Arg.
E'ene as I may.
You do not mean I shall be e're the better
For you.

Lad. Cov.
How's this? I do not understand
What you should mean.

Arg.
You may, if you consider:
But if you do not, I'll explain it to you.
Have I deserv'd such dealing at your hands?

Cov.
As what?

Arg.
As that you should speake one thing to me,
And mean another; But I'll make it plainer;
You seem'd to love me, and for love it seems,
Thinking to marry me, have made away
All your Estate.

Cov.
How's this?

Arg.
Nay 'tis too true,
Or else your Chaplain do's you wrong.

Cov.
Oh Villain!

Arg.
Nay Villain him no Villains; is it so
Or not?

Fruit.
If she deny it to you Sir,
I can produce her hand, and have the Deed.

Cov.
Oh monstrous villainy! Oh impudence!
Can'st thou abuse me thus, that first of all
Did'st counsel me to do it?

Fruit.
I confess
I gave you way, and for the time did wink
At your false dealing; but at last my conscience
Would not permit me to conceal it longer.
I have discharg'd it now, and told the truth.

Arg.
'Twas well done of you, Sir; well, I'll away.
Madam, seek out some other man to cheat,
For me you shall not.

Cov.
Stay Sir, my Estate
Shall still be good; the Feoffees will be honest.

Fruit.
I, that they will, to keep what is their own.

Cov.
Oh monstrous wickedness! was e're the like
Heard of before?

Fruit.
I know the Feoffee mindes.

Enter Freeman, Euphues, Barnet, Dotterel, Whimsey.
Free.
How fare you Madam? Wherefore look you sadly
At such a joyful time?

Cov.
Oh Mr. Freeman
I am undone, and ruin'd.

Fruit.
No, good Madam,
We'll see you shall not want

Free.
How's this?

Fruit.
You shall have a fair competence allow'd you.

Euph.
What riddle have we here?

Cov.
Out thou ungratious
Dissembling Villain.

Fruit.
An indifferent means
Will keep your Ladyship; for you are past
Those vanities which younger Ladies use;
You need no gaudy clothes, no change of Fashions,
No Paintings nor Perfumes.

Euph.
I would fain know
The bottom of this.

La. Whi.
Servant, can you discover
What this should mean?

Dott.
No Mistriss, I protest,
With all the wit I have.

Fruit.
And for your House,
You shall have leave to stay here, till we have
Provided for you.

Cov.
Oh my heart will break!

Euph.
Here is the finest turn that e're I saw

Arg.
I will resolve you Gentlemen; This Lady
To cozen me in marriage, had it seems
Past her Estate away; into what hands
'Tis fall'n I know not, nor I care not, I.

Fruit.
'Tis fall'n into the hands of wise men, Sir,
That know how to make use of what is theirs.

Cov.
This hypocrite perswaded me to do't,
And then discover'd all, as if on purpose
He sought my ruine.

Fruit.
No not I, good Madam;
'Twas for your soules health; I have done you good,
And eas'd you of a burden, and a great one
So much Estate would have been still a cause
Of cares unto you; and those cares have hinder'd
Your quiet passage to a better life.

Euph.
Excellent divel! how I love him now.
Never did knavery play a juster part.

Fru.
And why should you at such an age as this
Dreame of a marriage, a thing so farre
Unfit, nay most unnatural, and prophane,
To stain that holy ordinance, and make it
But a meere bargain? for two clods of earth
Might have been join'd as well in matrimony.
'Tis for your soules health, Madam, I do this.

Euph.
How much was I mistaken in this Chaplaine?
I see h'has braines.

Free.
Though't be dishonesty
In him, yet justly was it plac'd on her!
And I could even applaud it.

Lad. Whim.
I protest,
I love this Chaplain.

Dot.
So do I, sweet Mistris,
Or I am an errant foole.

Cov.
But yet I hope,
The feoffees may prove honest; Ile try them.

Fru.
Ile goe and bring them to your Ladyship.
Exit Fruitful.

Arg.
Ile stay no longer; make my Litter ready.
Lady farewel; and to you all.

Free.
Nay, Sir,
Then let me interpose; let me entreat you
By all the rites of neighbourhood, Sir Argent,
Make not so suddain a departure now.
What though the businesse have gone so crosse?
You may part fairly yet. Stay till to morrow:
Let not the country take too great a notice
Of these proceedings and strange breach; 't will be
Nothing but a dishonour to you both.
Pray Sir, consent; give me your hand, Sir Argent.

Arg.
At your entreaty, Sir, Ile stay till morning.

Free.
Before that time you may consider better.

Exeunt.