 | The Honest Lavvyer |  |
Act. Secund.
Enter Curfew Abbot.Curf.
Ly there, thou happy warranted case
Of any Villaine. Th'hast been my stawking-horse,
Now these ten months. So long 'tis since the Abbot
Went on a solemne pilgrimage and left
My brother, a good honest Fryer, his friend
Deputed for him. But my brother scarce
Warme in his new vice-honour, walking out
To visite me one morning, at my house
Fell dead of an impostume suddenly.
I bury'd him in priuate; but from's bloud
Am purer then the Crystall. Studying now,
How to turne sorrow into policie,
I haue assum'd his shape. Who can deny,
But that a Dunce may rise to Dignitie?
Blind Ignorance doth not alwaies strut in Sattin.
It often walkes a Clergy pace in blacke,
And deales the holy Rites with as bold hands,
As if it grasp'd Ioues thunder: and did iudge it
Enough to stare, looke bigge, and with a brow
More rugged then is Radamanths, denounce
Terrors against ill deeds: the whiles their owne
Are not lesse monstrous, but lesse broadly showne.
Thus in my selfe, how easie 'tis, I proue,
To sweat out iudgements 'gainst the sins we loue.
Were impudently good, set out by place.
But countnance to my thefts. This hollow tree
Keeps all my holinesse: Lie there Abbot, till
My worke is done, then doe thou hide my ill.
Valent.
Now haue I, like a Parasite, couerd my backe with
braines. Out of my vsurers Gowtie toe, I haue spun a faire suite. I
would faine heare, whether the diuell be dead or no. Yet I need not
be so inquisitiue, for I'm sure he has giuē me nothing in's will. Now
am I in quest of some vaulting house. I would faine spend these
crownes, as I got them, in cony-catching. I ha'the game in sent, &
will follow it with full cry.
Curf.
Stand—Giue the word.
Val.
Word? what word? am I beleaguerd?
Curf.
Few words are best among friends. Emptie your pockets,
and you may vault the lighter. Quicke.
Val.
Th'art an honest fellow, a very honest fellow. In good faith
I had no great need of mony; but since thou hast brought me some,
Ile not refuse it.
Curf.
Troth, I ha'but a little.
Val.
Faith nor I, we'll euen draw cuts, who shall ha'both.
Curf.
Agreed.—Shall we breathe?
fight.
Val.
Good fortune grant, you be able to pay me for this paines.
In sadnes, I deserue double fees.
Curf.
Ile make you plead harder, ere you sit downe to tell your
money.
Val.
Looke that your case be good, I shall picke a hole in't else.
Curf.
Well, let the law passe.
Val.
Not altogether so: lest we be both hange.—
fight.
Stand your ground. Zlid, I cannot abide these running Cockes.
Curf.
I haue seene a runner winne the battell.—Shall wee
draw stakes?
Val.
Ha? a match.—Throw by weapons, and lets embrace.
Curf.
I am a villaine, but I feare your clutch worse then a Seriants
Val.
As I'm true theefe, thou maist trust me. Ha sirrah!
Shall we cling, like a couple of Eeles, not to bee dissolu'd but by
Thunder.
Curf.
Most liberally. Let's set vp shop together.
Enter Vaster disguisd.
Ual.
Done: & to begin our trade, behold a customer. Stand close.
Vast.
This russet-shape of a plaine-dealing yeoman
Spirits my hopes with boldnesse. Sharpe suspition
Like to a winking Iusticer shall see me,
And yet not see me. Thus with griefe-swolne eyes,
Ile match my wife, and childrens miseries.
This fiftie pound Ile husband like a Badger;
Buy and fell Barley: and so easily wind
Into the present passages of Bedford.
How good a schoolemaster is Pouertie!
I could not liue on hundreds, that came in
By annuall rents; now I begin to thriue
On the small fragments. Thus like Prodigals,
That once did scorne the meate, now glad of pottage.
The mannor gone, Ile trie to liue oth' cottage.
Bedford, ha' for you.
Curf.
Stand. Giue the word.
Vast.
The word, y'are a theefe.
Val.
You might ha' shot twice, and not hit it righter.
Uast.
What do you shoot at?
Curf.
Oh Sir, like your Iesuite, all at the purse.
Val.
Will you cast out the diuell, and saue's a coniuring.
Vast.
Are you so cunning at the blacke Art? Ile trie your skill.
What, both at once? that's no faire play.
Curf.
Faire play is for Fencers. Yet thou seemst a good fellow.
Thou shalt haue it. Stand aside, partner.
Uast.
Saist thou me so, boy? then there's mony, win't and wear't.
Fight.
Val.
Now could I get in and rob 'hem both—Hercules! Hee
laies about him like Orlando Furioso, or a coward turnd desperate.
Braue boy yfaith. Wee might ha' robd two and twenty Taffata-clok'd
rorers, before this freese-iacket. Oh, your surly Bore is like
whelpe in a Tauerne: yet at the sight of cold yron runs, as if he had
seene a Serieant.
Curf.
Hold, hold: Keepe your cash.
Uast.
The mony's good mony Sir, if it be not too heauy for you
Curf.
Nay, for the weight I could make shift, but for the scuruy
conditions goe with it.
Uast.
Hau you any gall to't Sir?
Val.
Not not so much as pigeon. Put vp thy cash my braue quintessence
of Hobbniols. Giue me thy hand. How many thousand
cudgels hast thou broken i'thy daies about a May-pole?
Curf.
I warrant, as many as would make all Bedford chimnies
smoke a whole winter.
Uast.
Iest on. Ha'you any more to say to me.
Curf.
Nothing my braue Clem o'th Clough, but I would thou
wouldst deale with vs. Say, shall wee put all our stockes together,
and set out a ship of our owne?
Uast.
Ha? first tell me truly what you are.
Curf.
Agreed. Let's sit downe to counsell. I am the Abbot of
Newnham.
Vast.
How? much?
Curf.
Ile not bate you an Ace on't, till the old Abbot returnes
from Pilgrimage. My chamber shall be our Randeuous. The
diuell himselfe in the shape of a blurting Constable wil not looke
for vs there.
Val.
I am a souldiour, and in this vacation time am forc'd to
do like Lawyers; when suites do not make them, they make suites:
because the warres will not maintaine me, I maintaine the warres.
I set vp my Bils in Bedford here, for a Physician, and dealt with
Gripe for the Gowt. I haue a proiect to swell our purses till they
burst. Will you second me?
Vast.
As inseparably, as a condition does an obligation.
Val.
I haue often heard the gripulous Dotard talke of Fairies:
and how rich the house proues that they haunt. I haue ripened the
blister of his imagination to the full. Shall we launce it? I haue keys
that shall secure our conueyance. Is't a match?
Vast.
The safest stratagem we could deuise,
By craft, more then by strength, all theeues do rise.
The Foxe will haue his prey before the Lion.
Val.
Two or three nights we'le scatter some small peeces of siluer,
till opportunitie plumpe our proiect.
Curf.
I take it rightly. Oh tis quicke and sharpe.
So with a Gudgeon lost, we'll catch a Carpe. A bootie.
Enter Griffin, Sager, Bromley.
Griff.
As I was saying, Master Bromley, why should you take th'
aduantage of your neighbour Sager here? Y'haue got the reuersion
of his Lease. Ther's is but one life to come in't. Wee are all
mortall. It may come ere you looke for't. I loue peace, I loue peace.
Brom.
I say, that life is forfeit: and Ile enter on all. The law is on
my side. Ile not be bound to th'peace.
Griff.
Nay Sir, Ile bind no man: but if I could perswade you—
to be fleeced both, so I might be kept warme in your wooll—How
say you neighbour Sager?
Sag.
Alas Sir, I do but defend my owne.
Nay could be wel-contented to sit downe
With some (though vniust) losse. I iudge it best.
Though with some preiudice to buy my rest.
Griff.
Therein you wrong your selfe: the law is impartiall, like a
Bell, as sound on one side, as on th'other, if the clapper be right.
Master Bromley a word—What will you iudge me worthy of, If I
perswade him to relinquish his right? You know your case—.
Brom.
Here's twenty angels: worke it good Master Griffin, work
it; and you shall be my euerlasting Atturney. But if you faile, you
must returne.
Griff.
Pish, neuer talke o'that man—M
r. Sager, a word—I loue
peace, though I cannot liue by't. I respect my conscience aboue my
purse—when t'has no money in't.—What will you giue mee to
draw Bromley to a good handsome composition?
Sag.
Not a pennie, till y'haue done't.
Griff.
You know twill go against you, but I loue peace.
Sag.
(I neuer knew't in any of your Tribe.
Th'euent be what it will, Ile giue no bribe.)
Sir, as I like your end—God and my cause,
Are coate of steele, gainst the sharpe fangs of lawes.
Shall we walke on? our iourney's long.
Curf.
Not so long as you take't. Stand, good Mr. Lawyer, shall
I put a case to you now?
Ual.
Come, vntrusse, we haue hast of businesse?
Curf.
Quicke sirrah, I shall serue an Execution o' your throte else
Grif.
Indeed Gentlemē, I am sorry that I'm not better stored for
you. If you had tooke me comming from terme, I could haue serued
your turnes better.
Valen.
Bind them, hamper the rogues. Serue a Habeas corpus on
that fierifacies.
Curf.
How happy were this common wealth! how sound!
If euery corrupt Lawyers fingers were thus bound.
Vast.
Sager, I know thee poore: here take thy purse.
Though I rob these, no poore man shall me curse.
Val.
Tarry till I lay the Lawyer in the midst of his clients.
Are your talons bound Harpy? Thou liest now like a Stallion new
gelt, betwixt two Mares. This is a Distringis, sirrah.
Secedunt fures.
Grif.
Oh neighbours, I'am vndone, vndone.
Brom.
Then helpe to vndoe me. Ile haue my action against the
Rogues.
Sag.
Stay till you catch them master Bromley.
Well, somwhat this my falling state releeues:
That honesty speeds well euen amongst theeues
Brom.
Helpe, helpe. Good master Griffin, your breath's strongest,
yawle, yawle. Your tongue could neuer stand your Clients
in more stead.
Enter Vasters wife.
Wife.
I heard this way some mans distressed voyce,
Crying for helpe: some robbery. Oh tis no wonder!
A theefe and bawdy house are ne're farre asunder.
Grif.
Oh good woman helpe, helpe to vntie vs.
Wif.
I know 'hem all. Two knaues, one honest man.
They know not me in this translation.
Come Sir, Ile loose you first, helpe you the rest.
Do well to all, but to the good do best.
Grif.
Oh that I had the villaines vpon an execution now.
Would you turne hang-man, Sir?
Grif.
I faith sweet wench, I would shew hem the law.
Wife.
Perhaps want forc'd them; though it was not good.
What Horseleaches are they, that full, sucke blood!
There is an Inne, enter, refresh your selues.
Who pities me most, most vnfortunate!
Robd of a husbands loue, now of himselfe.
How farre is this beyond all losse of pelfe!
He sold me hither; may that sinfull price
Of my deepe sorrow neuer preiudice
His happinesse, what climate euer holds him.
Be blest, sweet husband; let my ruine buy
Thy wishd content, though I forsaken die.
Whom I haue all sent home with betterd minds.
Against her vicious will, I force her striue
By vertue rather, then by lust to thriue.
I know, I am expected.
Exit.
Curf.
The lackes be now vncag'd, and flutterd hence.
Vast.
(The woman, that releasd them, I should know.
She frees them from this bondage to a worse.
There is no theefe, like whore, to picke the purse.)
Val.
Shall we not shift ground?
Curf.
By no meanes. A theefes safest residence is in the same plat
he did the robberie. There, of all places, the Cuckoldly hue will neuer
crie after him.
Vast.
When shall we share the booties, and be proud,
How liberally our diuision mounts?
Curf.
The daies worke done, we'l cast vp the accounts.
Val.
Where's the pettie-foggers Portmanteau?
Curf.
Here.
Val.
Lay't there. So, you shall see me catch a fat Pickerell, with
this Gudgeon presently. Stand close.
Enter old Gripe, Nice, Thirsty.
Nic.
Vncle, vncle, I had a certaine scuruy dreame to night.
Grip.
Dreame? what of dreames? good cousin be not so nice.
Nic.
I dreamt—
Grip.
Be hang'd.
Be you hang'd, Vncle.
Thirst.
Behang'd both, except I may haue some drinke.
Nic.
Me thought I found a great deale of money.
Gripe.
I would we had it, cousin, without dreaming.
Thirst.
Whoop master—no part of my finding.
takes vp the Portmanteau
Grip.
No matter for a part: all's mine.
Nic.
Nay, all's mine for dreaming.
Thirst.
Nay, all's mine for finding: and Ile keep't.
Val.
Soft, sirrah: it lies there for a wager.
Nic.
What wager, Sir?
Val.
Marry, that who euer finds it, shall loose all the money in's
purse.
Nic.
Ile not meddle with it.
Grip.
Ile ha' no part in't.
Val.
Iudgement, Gentlemen: ha' they not lost the wager?
Curf., Vast.
Lost, lost; as sure as Virginitie; no sooner laid then lost.
Val.
Come then to pay, to pay. (Sure this is Gripe, my Bedford-Gowtie-Vsurer.
Plague o' your stilts; what Carpenter set 'hem vpright?
not my wimble, I hope.
Nic.
Oh I am spoyld, spoyld; this tis to dreame of finding money—I
knew, what twould come to.
Thirst.
Saue your labour, good master Theefe: for my breeches
are ith' fashion, a great deale of pocket, but no lining.
Vast.
This is the rocke that split me. Oh good fate!
That thou hadst now about thee halfe my state.
Is't sinne to rob the Theefe? by vsurious course,
He once robd me, now I rob him by force.
No difference but this, twixt him and me.
I ha' not such protection, as had he.
Grip.
Oh I am a poore man, a verie poore man.
Vast.
Thou art indeed; wealth without vse doth free
No soule from the bleake stormes of pouertie.
Who cannot natures requests satisfie
Out of his wealth, his coffer's rich, not he.
Val.
Be they all bound to the good forberance?
Vast.
Thus farre quits my reuenge. The Vsurer lies,
As fast in mine, as I am in his tyes.
Now let me kill him. No, bloud shall not die
That the wise lawe would serue all vsurers so.
How few in thy bonds didst thou ere vntie?
Now bound thy selfe, so without mercy lie.
Curf.
Come, let's retire to our refuge.
Secedunt.
Nic.
Vncle, vncle. I would this all were but a dreame too.
Grip.
Oh coz, I am damnd, damnd, my mony's gone.
Elstow morgage is lost. Wallow to me, Nice.
Nic.
Oh vncle, its dangerous tumbling, snakes i'the grasse.
Grip.
Wallow to me, Thirsty.
Thirst.
Master, I'm so drie, I cannot stirre my feet.
Grip.
Helpe.—
Enter Vasters wife.
Wife.
More robberies yet? tis strange, how villains swarme!
Mischiefes hold close to keepe each other warme,
Three ranke corruptions make their neere abode.
An Abby, Bawd' house, and a Theeuish rode.
Where be these men distressed?—how? my Vsurer?
Shall I vnbind him, that hath bound my husband
In mercilesse fetters? Yes, I'm bidden, still,
With good deeds to requite my enemies ill.
Come, diuell, Ile vnlose thee.
Grip.
Oh how I'm crost!
My mony, and my morgage, all, all lost.
Nic.
Masse, a prety wench—If she lay thus bound before mee,
I would not loose her, but vpon some conditions.
Wife.
Will you go in Sir, and refresh your selfe?
Grip.
Ile follow thee, sweete girle. Would I could cope
This morgage, though my other be past hope.
Thirst.
Doe they brew wine here?
Exeunt
Vast.
See how this woman still me quits, and crosses,
I rob and binde, and she releeues their losses.
Why doth she thus? Its but a tricke of hers:
By charitie to draw in customers.
I am now patient, but more Cuckold still.
I helpe her to supply, gainst my owne will.
Shall we retire to my chamber, and share?
Enter Beniamin.
Val.
Tarry. Here comes another Iack-daw: let's plucke him,
and take his feathers with vs—stand.
Ben.
Thou durst not say so, were we on iust tearmes.
Valen.
You should bee some Lawyer, you stand so on your
termes
Faith, we must change professions with you, you must giue's our
fees.
Ben.
Youle earne them first?
Val.
Braue Sir, so do not Lawyers alwayes.
But when you'r payd your selfe, you'l giue's our due.
Vast.
Hold, Gentlemen, this is my friend.
Curf.
Thine, noble Valoys? thou shalt begge his ransome then.
Uast.
Hee stands secure. Haste to your chamber. There Ile
meet you presently, and then wee'l share.
Exeunt.
Ben.
Are thy ends good in this giuen libertie?
Or dost it here alone to murder me?
Uast.
Not with my sword, but with a tale shall wound thy amazed
heart—come, let's sit downe.
Ben.
What tale? good friend, be plaine and short.
Woe to a heart, by expectation centuples the smart.
Vast.
I haue commendations to you from one Vaster:
For by's description you should be the man.
Ben.
Liues Vaster then?
Vast.
'Las Sir, you know he's dead.
And by your bloudy hand was murdered.
Ben.
By me?
Vast.
Is not your name Sir Beniamin Gripe!
Ben.
What then?
Vast.
You kill'd him, Sir. Poore man he dy'd
With penitence to heauen, to you remission.
Sayd, that you did it like a man, prouok'd
By his intemperate rage. Fate gaue that I
Keeping his walke, came to close vp his eye.
Ben.
Heauen pardon me. What sayd the dying Vaster?
He charg'd me seeke you out, and gaue me gold,
To bury him in secret; lest his death
Should hazard yours, and charm'd my silent breath.
Ben.
His loue giues fire to my greene pile of sorrowes.
May his bones rest in peace: in griefe I liue;
'Lesse he and heauen do my blacke fault forgiue.
Vaster.
He hath forgiuen you, only this he begges;
That to the scatter'd pieces of himselfe,
Left to suruiue his miseries vncomplete,
His Widow and his Orphans, you would yeeld
Some pittie for your owne, heauens, and his sake:
And teach that hand, (from which he hop'd some good)
To succour theirs, that tooke away his blood.
He bad me tell you, now all meanes were gone,
To expiate that sinne, saue only one:
To hold those vp, that on the worlds sea swimme:
Since he had them vndone, you vndone him.
That you would be to them, as he should be:
This he bequeath'd you as a Legacie.
Ben.
Ile be a iust Executor of his will.
Good friend, great thankes: my purse th'hast spar'd to ceaz
But what is worse, hast robb'd me of my peace.
Uaster, th'art dead: if thy transformed soule,
Could from the battlements of yon high Tower,
Behold the vow'd endeuours of my heart,
To satisfie thy will and my huge debt,
In thee, to thine, thou wouldst my merit set
'Mongst thy best friends: yet narrow are my bounds;
To giue them plaisters, that first gaue them wounds.
Vast.
Farewell Sir, thinke on Vaster.
Exit.
Ben.
Friend adieu. To Vaster and my vowe I will be true.
How thicke the sharpe pulse of my conscience beares!
How strangely my distracted Phantsie threats!
Oh vnappeased murder, that still keepes
The sensitiue committer from fast sleepes:
And murmurs in the eares a fatall knell
Of restlesse thoughts on earth, of worse in hell,
How deepe thou strik'st me with a silent blow!
Fetch him againe I cannot; on his sowne
Is too too mortall. Why then hurl'd I downe
My sinking spirits? Let me flye to mirth,
And burden cares with wine, to make them sinke.
The worlds rule is, Who feels the lode of conscience let him drink.
But oh importunate griefe! too hard it is,
To counterfet a false and forged blisse!
Yet once Ile force a tryall; I haue here an Inne,
I heare and wonder, is turn'd house of sinne.
Ile see, if the loose sprawles, with their sharpe wit,
Can giue my mind a medicine for this fit.
Whores I abhorre, as Gardiners Iayes: no matter;
Once for experiment, Ile heare them chatter.
Enter Vasters Wife.
Preuention! I thinke here's one of the iourney-women come, to
proffer me her seruice. Black prostitution! that any such face should
euer waite vpon thee. Sister, what seeke you?
Wife.
What is hard to find:
An honest man, or els my eyes are blinde.
Ben.
Fut, if I say I'm one, I then fall short,
Of the occasion I intend for sport.
I'm such a foole in this Priapus-rode.
Mee thinks, sweet-heart, your honest-man should bee one, that
should please your appetite, stirre your veines, tickle your bloud,
and make you laugh delight into your panting spleene.
Wife.
An honest diuell.
Th'are friends to hell, that tempt weake soules to euill.
Ben.
Come, let me kisse thee—so: this was with ease;
Words are ayry shades, th'are deeds that please.
Wife.
Sir, do not thinke to enter my chaste fort,
Encourag'd by this parle. You presume—
Ben.
Not to vnlocke thy treasures with such keyes.
Gold only can surprise such holds as these.
And I haue that will doo't.
Wife.
Then vse it well.
How's wealth abus'd, when it conducts to hell!
Ben.
Ile be the franker Pay-master.
Wife.
You must: Then pay me for my vertue: so Ile' take it.
What starues lust, is well bought, not what it feedes.
'Tis follies dregges, with coyne to buy ill deedes.
Ben.
Come, come; why should you be so quaint, and nice,
That know what belongs to 't? 'Dsso, a Virgin
At thirteene, or perhaps a little vnder,
Could not with whuling nay's be so peruerse,
In her beworded Mayden-head.
Wif.
I must.
Ben.
Thou dost not rightly of my merits deeme.
I would not know you such, as you now seeme.
Ben.
The golden footed law, that goes or runs,
Staies, and turnes backe, as we giue motion to it,
Shall step the pase, which thou would'st haue it. Nay,
Speake as thy tongue instructs it. I will change
Thy pouerty to gold, rich robes, a Coach,
And prauncing Coursers, that shall whirle thee through
The popular streets; and when thou sitst in pride,
The tamed law shall lacquay by thy side.
Wife.
These are some incitations to a heart
Tainted with malice, or that thinkes a heauen
In glorious ostentation; or would stand
Affected with the bane of prurient lust.
I'm of another temper. Pray you leaue me.
Ben.
Thou shalt Nectar drinke:
Make ebrious waste of the sweet Gnossian wines;
Fesants shall be course dyet: refin'd marow,
Small pounded nuts, and losseng'd Amylum,
Scrap'd pearle and date-stones sprinkled on each slice,
And strew'd with sugar, like white frost on yce.
Grant me but loue, Ile raine a showre of Gold
Into thy lappe, out-shining Ioue, when he
Wrapt in his glory courted Danae.
Wife.
Thy language does affright me. Oh my starres!
Ben.
O let not teares spoile such a beauty. Tell mee; Why spill
you water like a Crockodile, to captiue mee; that might haue
don't with mirth, nimbler then ayre?
Sir, I haue no desire,
To take your lust, but pittie. Somewhat prompts my credulous
heart, there is some goodnesse in you.
Ben.
My trust shall quite thy faith, Impart thy mind.
Wife.
Ile trust you, Sir. I am a wretched woman,
The widow or the wife, I know not whether, of the distressed or
dead Vaster.
Ben.
How? I faint to tell thee; thou are then a widow:
The warres haue ended his infortunate dayes.
Nay, let not griefe oppresse thy spirits. Oh,
I haue kill'd the wife and husband with one blow.
Lift vp thy sowning eyes.
Wife.
Oh let me dye. Rather short death, then lingring miserie.
Ben.
Reuiue thy heart: Vaster yet liues in me:
I am his sonne, that hath thy husbands lands.
Wife.
And can I looke for mercy at your hands?
Ben.
Receiue this earnest; all my state is thine.
Wife.
You cannot with these spels charme me to sinne.
Ben.
I do not: when I taint thy chaster eares
With motions of blacke lust, pronounce me Villaine.
Tell me, who brought you to this Brothell-Inne?
Wife.
He, to whom heauen (I trust) hath clear'd all sin.
My Vaster sold me hither. I was content.
Thus to relieue his state, when all was spent.
Ben.
But couldst thou liue infectlesse in this ayre?
Wife.
I haue, and will.
Ben.
Will? This giues strange suspicion.
Wife.
I made a promise, that without consent
Of her that bought me, I would not depart.
Enter Mar-mayde.
See where th'Inchantresse comes.
Marm.
Now minion, you must be gadding. Cry you mercie,
Land-lord: if you'l haue any sport, walke in, walke in. You shall
take out your rent here, Land-lord. She shall be your own Vacation
and Terme too, Land-lord.
Ben.
So, you pernicious Damme of lusts foule littour,
You that buy beauty and do sell 't againe;
This woman from your brothell-slauerie.
Or I shall bring you to the cart and lash.
Marm.
Oh I am cast away; she cost me fifty pounds,
I ne're got foure grotes by her yet.
Ben.
Thou shalt lose more by keeping her. Goe cleanse the
house from this disorder, or I here discharge thee.
Marm.
Good Land-lord, bestow her where you will. I am
content to be rid of her, so I may hold your fauour—
One more such purchase will vndoe my trade.
Enter Gripe.
Grip.
Hostice; Ostice, wher's your kinswoman?
Marm.
Yonder Sir, talking with my Land-lord, your Worships
sonne.
Gripe.
Son Beniamin? yea faith, are you so close
Exit Mar.
with a wench? Come hither—she's a whore. Take heed on her.—
If she want mennes, bring her home; she shall keep my house.
Oh such a Wench would be restoratiue
Perswade her Ben.
Exit Gripe.
Ben.
Ile do my best, Sir, See,
The pleased fates consent to succour thee.
My fathers house shall shelter thee vnknowne.
Please the old man with words, but hold your owne.
If my plot takes, as I can hope no lesse,
This lust of his shall thy good fortunes blesse.
| The Honest Lavvyer | |