 | The Honest Lavvyer |  |
Act. Quart.
Enter Vasters Wife.Wife.
Rvnne faster, ye dull legges of motion,
That time may follow with a swifter pase.
Let wanton Epicures wish you creeple-limbes,
Insatiate with the ryot of their ioyes;
And chide the hafty forwardnesse of day,
That will not dance attendance on their play.
My spirits wrought vpon with tedious woes,
Thinke that each houre lingring and lazy goes.
Impartiall fates, how you delude our thoughts!
Guiding euents to their determin'd ends,
Whether our strength with or against contends.
Whether the passenger wake, or sleepe his fill,
The waue and wind-mov'd vessell goes on still.
Patience then heart! they do not valour know,
That weary faint, but who can suffer woe.
Who's this?
Enter Rob. Vaster with the Letter.
Rob.
By your leaue, Mistris Sorrow.
Right, th'hast hit my name.
Yet cleare of sinne, my sorrow has no shame.
Rob.
I haue letters from Mr. Ben. Gripe.
Wife.
They're welcome. (poore boy how am I vndone!
Tis hard, a mother must not owne her sonne.
Rob.
Sure I should know that face and language too.
A chill disquiet troubles my soft peace,
And runs like a cold feuer through my bloud.
I'm very sicke of somewhat. Oh 'tis then
Errour, the sicknesse in all minds of men.
But that I know her absence giues her dead.
I'would sweare it was my mother. 'las vaine thoughts,
How you would flatter me!
Wife.
Leaue out that Gripe: it's an vnproper name;
Cannot denominate thee for such a creature.
If blessed mankinde haue a Phænix left;
And vice of that good hath not time bereft;
In this degenerate worlds apostacie;
The plurall number's lost: that one is hee,—Sonne
Rob.
Zlid she calls me Sonne.
Wife.
That word's oreslipt.
How easily loue is in her language trip't.
Sonne—of compelling nature not forbeares:
Passion must vent it selfe in speech or teares.
Dost thou not know me?
Rob.
Yes: this testifie.
I begge your blessing on my humbled knee.
Wife.
Rise with heauen's benediction.
Rob.
Liues my Father?
Wife.
Guesse by my greefe and silence.
Rob.
Vm'h my doubts
Wrappe me in further maze. My father dead?
My mother liuing in his enemies house?
Let's study. Oft I haue heard my father mone,
That this same womans lust had him vndone.
But to some such vile end? By heauen tis cleare.
Oh that this sappe, which my life feedes vpon,
Did not confesse a deriuation
From that corrupted trunke! Well, I will force
Nature runne backe with a preposterous course.
Ile fashion a forgetfull lunacie,
That ere I was her soone. But on my soule,
Not touch her with least hurt.—Woman come hither.
Wife.
Woman! Deare Robin, not thy mother? blesse mee.
Why dost thou gripe me thus? Oh some blacke storme
Is rising on thy brow.
Rob.
Storme? No, tis thunder. Can you read this?
Wife.
Yes, I can spell't too well. It speakes my death,
deare sonne—
Rob.
Come, come, forget
These filiall rights, and Natures attributes.
Prepare your selfe to—
Wife.
What? Oh desperate child.
Oft haue thy bended knees with a iust dutie
Kiss'd the cold earth, to begge my prayers to heauen,
For thy prosperity: oft desir'd forgiuenesse
Of thy wild infant-errors. Oft haue these
Borne thee with soft indulgence: but now, see,
A wofull mother bends her humble knee
To her incensed sonne; not to conserue
This flesh from death, but thy black soule from hell:
Th'vnscaped dungeon, where all Parricides dwell.
Thinke: if thy spirits be not growne mad and wild,
Pitie a mother kneeling to her child.
Rob.
I'm deafer then an Vsurer to your mones.
I must, like Nero, see the plate I bred in.
Be briefe in answere: did you neuer wrong
my fathers nuptiall bed.
Wife.
Neuer.
Rob.
Take heede.
Clogge not that brest with more sin, that must bleed,
Speake truth and saue your soule.
That robb'd my father? speake, or y'are but dust.
Wife.
No on my soule.
Rob.
Now on thy soule thou lyest.
Confesse, be plaine, or without pawse thou dyest.
Wife.
Helpe, heauens or men.
Within, breake open dore.
Enter Benia. Valentine, Gripe, Nice, Thirsty.
Ben.
What prodigie's this?
VVife.
Nothing Sir, alas nothing: 'twas but my feare.
Ben.
It is my seruant Sir; he meant no ill.
Grip.
Sonne, sonne, howsoeuer he serues you, I'm sure he
does not serue God. Without question, he would haue rauish'd
her.
Thir.
He would haue refresh'd her, Sir.
Grip.
Speake widow, is't not true?—away with him.
Cousin Nice, make his mittimus.
Wife.
It's not amisse to let him feele some smart.
His life they cannot touch: what his offence
Deserues in heauens, strict iustice, mercy pardon.
Parents learne this in tendring Childrens state:
Too much indulgence is not loue but hate.
Nic.
Sure his complexion doth not giue it: let me see your
hand, Sir.
Rob.
Will you feele it, Sir?
strikes him.
Exeunt.
Ben.
(Sonne offer violence to the mother?) strange!
Till I can sound this mysterie of ill,
Ile to the prison and relieue him still.
Exit.
Gripe.
You will be gone M
r. Ualentine; but I hope you wil
visit me shortly againe.
Val.
Before you looke for me, Sir,—if all fall right,
I vowe to visite you againe this night.
Exit.
Grip.
Ha widow! I am cleere of the stone now.
Wife.
The lesse able to do a widow pleasure, Sir.
Grip.
Tut, wench, I meane the disease, the disease.
Wife.
(No Sir: you haue a worse disease behind:)
The body hath no sicknesse like the mind.
Gripe.
Try me, sweet. I'm like a leeke, though I haue
the stone? when? when?
Wife.
When you haue married me I will be your wife.
Gripe.
Pish: first make triall how thou likest me: there is
no wit, to marry before experience.
Wife.
Your house Sir, is too publike.
Grip.
Hold, ther's the key of my closset. Be thine owne
pandar for conuayance. I must receiue a little money: profit
is aboue pleasure: about ten—
Wif.
Good lucke direct my hands vnto the morgage.
That found, if or my witte or strength hold tacke,
I haue a medicine Sir, to coole your backe.
Exit.
Grip.
Las poore wench: now shee's got into my Closset,
she hugges her hopes, as a Polititian his ayery plotte, and
cryes a prize, a prize. She shall be double cony-catch'd. Wel,
it growes Fairy-time. Oh the fine dapper laddes, how they
friske about my chamber: when at euery step here droppes a
grote, there a teston. Many drops make a floud. Sure, I'm
some wonderfull honest man, that they loue me thus. I must
to bed. Tarry, how then shall I keepe touch with the widow?
I ha't, Ile sit downe in my chaire, and faine my selfe in a slumber.
Oh 'twill be a golden waking dreame.
Enter Vaster, Valentine, Curfew, like Fairies, dancing antickes: pinching Gripe, as they passe by him.
Oh-oh-th'are angry. Would I were rid of 'hem. Oh—sweet
spirit—oh—doe not terrifie mee thus. What haue I done to
prouoke you?
Uast.
Confesse thy sinnes. Th'hast some wench in a corner.
Grip.
I haue, I haue—oh—but Ile not meddle with her.
Vast.
Whiles thy house was cleanly swept,
And thy conscience chastly kept:
Neat linnen, fire and water ready;
And thy purpose good and steady:
Vnrewarded from thy doore.
Whiles thou wakendst with the chimes,
Because thou wentst to bed betimes,
We brought thee wealth; but twas in vaine;
For now we'll fetch it backe againe.
Come deliuer the keys of your trunkes.
Grip.
Oh theeues, you'll robbe me, you'll vndoe me.
Curf.
No, Gowtie blister, well bind thee, vndoe thee, who will—
Val.
Open thy iawes thou yawning sepulcher:
Here is a morsel for an Vsurer.
Gagge him,
Vast.
A peece of Cheese of the Low-country Dairies.
This is the vsuall diet of the Fairies.
Curf.
Now we will rip the lining of thy trunkes.
Better the Fairies haue it then thy punkes.
Val.
Lucke more, then we can carry, hath assign'd vs.
Curf.
Each horse his lode: we'l leaue the rest behind vs.
Thou greedy Panther.
Val.
Sauage Wolfe.
Vast.
Man-eater.
Thou fetting Canker.
Val.
Cōmons horsleech.
Cur.
Cheater
Uast.
Whose belly has iust cause to sue an action
Of trespasse, gainst thy couetous lusts exaction:
For detinie of many hundred meales,
Which it from others, and thy selfe too; steales.
The Gowt.
Val.
The Dropsie.
Curf.
Collicke, Lunacie,
Like Sprites and Fairies haunt thy company.
And as thou gap'st now, let some Batte or Owle
Spet backewards i'thy mouth.
Vast.
No more. If thou do not
Repent, restore, turne good, sit till thou rot.
Val.
What does Vsurie sticke in thy teeth? spet out, Dog,
spet out. Now thou gap'st for a morgage. Dost?
Vast.
Fare-ill. To those that aske how came this euill,
Giue answer thus: The Fairies robd the Diuell.
Grip.
Oh—Oh—Oh.
Exeunt.
Bro.
Ho master Gripe? what, your chamber doore ope thus
earely? how now, bound? gagg'd? what rogues ha'bene here?
Nic.
Speake to mee vncle, speake: the gagge's out.
Grip.
Saue the gagge. I will hang the whole shire, but Ile
find 'hem. Iugglers, Fairies, incarnall sprites! My money, my
heart, my guts, my soule—Let me curse my selfe into the
ground, and saue a Dirge. Run, cry, ride, charge the Constables
with 'hem.
Brom.
Where be they, Sir?
Grip.
Gone to the Diuell. Runne to a Coniurer, cast me a figure.
Nic.
Oh, Sir, all the Coniurers are o'their owne trade. A
mischiefe on't, I thought there was some scuruy luck towards;
the Crickets did so cry ith' Ouen yesterday. And this verie
houre, as we came in, there was an Owle whoo-whooping in
the top of the chimney and iust at the threshold, master Bromley
here stumbled Signes, signes.
Grip.
Plucke downe the signes. Ile vndo all the Innes in the
towne: they harbour the theeues.
Brom.
You said they were Fairies.
Nic.
Now in sinceritie, I heard a great ratling of chaines.
Wife.
(This makes mee wonder! such a robbery, and I not
heare it?
Brom.
Come bridle vp this furie. What will you say, if I can
produce you the plotter, abbettor, or at least accessary to this
villanie? What if the pick-locke can open the chest of all this
stratagem?
Grip.
'Las, poore widdow, she was fast, I warrant you.
Brom.
No, she was loose I warrant you: how could we haue
got in, if she had not open'd the dore? Your cousin Nice and I
came from a hurly-burly ith' Iaile. Your sonnes man has broke
from his keeper. And as we were comming, wee met this woman
verie supitiously stealing out.
Wife.
My heart misgaue me thus: this diuels tongue
Would worke my misdeem'd innocence some wrong.
No more words. Cousin, neighbor, take her to the next
Iustice. I must not deale in my owne businesse. Let her bee
examin'd soundly, soundly: sent to the Iayle, roundly, roundly.
Wife.
Sir, I beseech you.
Grip.
No more. Do not you know, I know you for a whore!
Away with her, I will not heare her speake.
My gold, my siluer—Oh my heart will breake.
Exit.
Brom.
Come, will you walke? Ile leade, widdow, come you
next. Master Nice, you'll follow.
Nic.
As close, as beggery followes drunkennesse.
Let me see your hand, widdow—Oh the case is cleare.
A yellow spot doth on your hand appeare.
Gather vp your heeles, widdow: Iustice Surly dwels hard by.
Enter Robert Vaster.
Rob.
How now? my mother guarded? with two rogues?
Sword, thou didst faine to kill her—but—Sirrah—you—deliuer
me this woman, or Ile make thy yellow starch'd face serue me
for a cut-worke band.
Brom.
Oh Sir, y'are well met; you broke from the Iayle last
night. Apprehend him master Nice.
Nic.
I'am somewhat dainty and shy on him, Sir. He lookes
vile sharpe on't.
Brom.
Let him looke as sharpe, as an Apparitors nailes,
we'll blunt him I warrant ye. Sirrah, I charge you stand.
Rob.
Sirrah, you see I stand charg'd already. Will you haue
me run?
Brom.
Oh helpe, helpe—
Exit.
Nic.
Hold, hold, I ha'not made my will.
Rob.
No matter for thy prayers; dispatch it quickely then.
Nic.
You'l giue me leaue, Sir, to make my will.
Rob.
Yes.
Nic.
Then my will is—to runne away.
Exit.
Wif.
Thankes, sonne; but now do you not, like the Lion,
Saue the distressed Lambe from the Wolfes pawes,
For sacrifice to his owne bloudie lawes?
Rob.
Deare mother, pardon; be secure—
Brom.
This way, this way: here—Oh haue we found you?
Ben.
How do these mischiefes flutter in thicke heapes!
And cloud my vnderstanding from the light,
I look'd the Sunne should shine, find it darke night
I cannot stand t'examine circumstances.
Now master Bromley, whither are you bound?
Brom.
Your father gaue vs charge to haue the widdow
To master Iustice Surly's; he suspects her
To haue some hand i'th robberie tonight.
Sir it concernes you; he has lost 300. pound.
Ben.
Vmh. My father robd? the widdow charg'd with it?
Her sonne vniayld himselfe? these are harsh turnes.
Well, go you two before, prepare the Iustice.
You haue my word for their appearance. Go.
Exeunt. Br. Nic.
VViddow, and Robin, now here's none but friends:
You'l giue me leaue to wonder at these ends.
Of that anone.
Meane time I here present you with a gift,
Dearer to me, then is the Sunne to earth.
So; narrow vp your passions for a space:
H'you the morgage-deeds? giue them my hands.
Yet the successe on my inuention stands.
Mother, and brother, (so I hope your titles)
My selfe, and friend here, whom you do not know,
VVill baile you both. That done, I haue an Inne,
New voyd of Tennant; there dwell all together.
My friendship to the power shall pledge your faith.
Measure good deeds by what man would, not hath.
Exeunt
Enter Griffin.
Griff.
VVhat Damn'd fortune's this, that I cannot smell out
these theeues? I would sweare them to the Gallous, as well
as they swore me out of my money. An oath like a strong
charme, should coniure their neckes into the circle of a rope.
Oh, here comes my fellow-Patient; wee both tooke Physicke
together; purg'd, purg'd: but I haue a cordiall for him. Saue
you, brother Gripe. M
r. Bromley, newes, good newes. It's reported, that Sager's dead.
Brom.
Dead? Ile go take possession presently.
Ben.
Do not with too strict rigour exercise your power on
his distressed family.
Brom.
My time is come, I will not lose an houre.
Grif.
It's iust, that euery man should take his owne.
Ben.
Sir, you speake law, not charitie. He that will
Be nothing more then iust, is vniust still.
Wo to that quited soule, to whom from heauen
All iustice, and no mercie shall be giuen.
Your mercy to the widdow, to the Orphans.
Brom.
As much as a Puritan has vpon a good feast.
Ben.
Well—let me tell you this—Sager is dead.
So slies report, borne on presumptions wings.
But how he dy'd, that aerie bird not sings.
Kild—but by whom—waight deeply—I must hence.
The muttring's strong—looke to your conscience.
Secedit
Grif.
How's this? kild?—muttering? and conscience? Looke,
his ghastly melancholy points him out for the murderer. As
sure, as a hatte-brinkes puld downe declares a cuckold, this
darkenesse discouers him.
Brom.
I am a villaine.
Grif.
Tell him, that knowes it not.
Brom.
My narrow heart cannot be capable
Of this huge bulke of sorrow. It must out.
Now, to whose bosome better then my friends?
This hand kild Sager.
Grif.
How?
Brom.
Nay, do your worst.
Twas but chance medley, accidentall slaughter.
Intending with my Peece to strike a fowle,
Against my will the cocke went downe, and he
But Griffin, harke you—let not your tongue stirre.
Do not I know you for a forgerer?
And more—you wot—let not your tongue be loose.
Ben.
Thus are two Foxes catch'd in one poore noose.
Exit Ben.
Griff.
Our guilt shall bind our secrecie; who liues
An vnsuspected villaine, winks at others
Vnlawfull deeds, to teach their eye-lids how
To winke at his—Shall we go to our new Hostice?
Brom.
Where? who?
Griff.
For your where, at the Maiden-head, a good likely
place. For your who: the widdow that old Gripe
(Enter Wife
suspects for the robbery; but young Gripe hath tenanted to his
Inne. Masse, she preuents vs. Widdow, we were comming.
Wife.
Pray' Gentlemen walke in; you shall haue attendance.
Brom.
Your company, sweete widdow.
Wife.
Ile not be long from you, Sir.
Exeunt.
Oh, some retiring from this house of sinne.
Fate! I was neuer bred to keepe an Inne.
Enter Curfew, Valentine as themselues, Vaster disguis'd.
More customers? that which all Innes would see;
Great store of guests: this is a plague to me.
Vast.
Yonder's mine Hostice. Now the water's vp, that we
cannot get ouer to the Abbey, it is our securest course to commit
the money to her custodie. If any search should be made,
and these tokens found about vs, we are all dead men: there's
not so much mercie in Gripe, as in the Plague.
Curf.
Agreed. Widdow, we haue some money to pay to a
Londoner in Bedford here; and he's not yet come to receiue
it. Will you locke it vp safe for vs?
Val.
But heare you? Deliuer it not to any one of vs. Except
all three demand it together, keepe it still.
Vast.
Helpe her to beare it in, and see't layd vp.
Exeunt
Zlid, my wife takes degrees; she rises fairely.
Now she's turn'd whore, and Bawd, and Hostice too.
Stand close deare wits, and shadow me disguise.
She cast me downe, and by her fall Ile rise.
Husbands that loue your honour as your life;
Learne now to be reueng'd, on a false wife.
Enter wife.
Wif.
Your friends expect you Sir.
Vast.
Sweet, I would go,
But here's a charming beauty, that sayes no.
Will you walke off a little—to the meddow?
I haue a tiny businesse with you, widdow?
Wife.
What is your will, Sir? I'm in haste: be short.
Vast.
The thing thou wotst on, halfe a minutes sport.
Wif.
Forbeare, libidinous Groome.
Uast.
Groome? I'm a man.
And can do, Hostice, what another can.
Come, shall I speake in gold, and action?
Wif.
Be damn'd, inchanter, with thy golden spelss.
Thou thinkst, gold can buy lust, when nothing els.
Yet I do loue thy soule. Think, ethinke, how deare,
A moments ioy is bought with endlesse feare.
How ill the flesh steales his vniust delight,
When the soule suffers an eternall night.
Flatter thy glowing hopes with heate no more.
Be not deceiu'd; thy Hostice is no whore.
Uast.
So: spoke my out-side braue; did my rich huske
Allow me impudent; and my vndown'd chinne
Promise my bloud vnsuck'd out by this sinne,
You would runne madde on me.
Wif.
Sooth, thou much errest.
I neuer saw that person (except one,
Who iustly claim'd my loue, now dead and gone)
In whose embracements I would sooner locke the treasures of my heart.
Uast.
Now, now, she's comming.
Wif.
If you had mou'd my eares with a chast suite, I should
haue listn'd.
Uast.
Braue! she's mine already.
Wif.
I cannot loue thee now.
Vast.
No?
Wif.
No, I cannot
Vast.
No?
Wif.
I hate thee.
Vast.
Heigh? handy, dandy, fast and loose, braue diuell.
Ile coniure you for this. Come, will you loue me?
Or no matter for your loue, will you lie with me?
Doe, or lie alone i'th meddow here. I shall leaue your tempting
eyes for the Crowes to picke out.
Wif.
Defend me goodnesse.
Vast.
Whistle not so lowd, lest I cut your pipe. Come on.
Wif.
Honour or life, how shall I saue you both?
Sir, I shall spoyle you. I ha'bene long a sinner.
A common sinner, Sir, and am not sound.
You cannot scape infection, if you touch me.
Vast.
Humh! the poxe, say you? well, you'l not reueale me.
Exit
Wife.
You need not, Sir, distrust my silence. Wrongs
That scape heauens hand, need not feare mortall tongs.
This world's turn'd Bedlam, rauing, desperate-badde.
It stagger'd drunke before, now it runs mad.
More customers?
Enter old Gripe and Beniamin.
Ben.
But, Sir, respect your life, your conscience.
Grip.
Thou saist well, for my life. But for my conscience,
Tis like a Surgions, that takes money for letting out blood.
Thinke o'my morgage.
Ben.
Vpon my life, he'll kill her. O presumption,
How dost thou dare heauens Iustice? I must study
To interpose prevention. Sir, I'm your sonne:
This brest you gaue me, and Ile still conserue it,
A faithfull closet to locke vp your secrets.
How will you strike? Pistoll her?
Grip.
No: that speakes
Like an obstreperous Aduocate, too loud,
In th'eares of iustice. Murder, like your Iesuite,
Should whisper death in silence—sleeping silence.
Ben.
I apprehend it, poyson. Sir, Ile buy you
A speedy potion.
Grip.
Not too deare, good sonne.
I would not ha't too deare: my mony's gone.
Two peny-woorth of Rats-bane, w'haue experience,
W'll do't; do't throughly.
Ben.
Ile prouide it, Sir.
Ile be your Apothecarie; but by no meanes
I cannot doe you better seruice. Rare!
Then bring my father to the Galhouse.
Enter.
Be petulant, and let your wanton mirth,
Giue you forgetfull of all wrong.
Gripe.
Come widow, I forgiue thee now: I hope thou't
forgiue me too. I'm come to drinke downe all malice.
Wife.
Pray' Sir, lead the way. Ile follow.
Exit Grip.
Looke vp, deare friend: what thus deiects you?
Ben.
Wonders, miracles—I must needs poyson thee.
Be not dismay'd, my poyson shall not hurt thee:
Ile tell thee all.
Enter Vaster in haste.
Vast.
Hostice, Pray' helpe me to the money quickly. I must
pay't instantly.
Wife.
You shall Sir.
Exeunt.
Vast.
So, if my new-borne plots hold constant life,
Ile cheate my theeues, but aboue all, my wife.
Enter Wife & Rob. with money.
Thanke you, good Widow. Youth, tel the
Gentlemen I'm gone to tender the money. Bid
Exit Rob.
'hem be merry and continue their healths. Ile take my round,
when I come againe. Farewell Ostice.
Exit.
Wife.
Y'are welcome Sir.
Enter Curfew, Valentine, Robin.
Val.
Gone, sayst thou? and with the mony? fire and gunpowder!
how are we blowne vp?
Curf.
Prettie handsome!
Val.
Ostice—
Rob.
Good leach, stand further off: your
breath's too violent.
Curf.
Did we not charge you not to deliuer the money, but
to vs all three together?
Rob.
Masse, tis true. How forgetfully are we cheated?
Val.
You are a coozening woman.
Rob.
You doe lye!
Curf.
Keepe the peace. Ostice, you'l make it good to vs,
three hundred pound, a pretty competent summe.
Val.
Furies and Fiends! wits, you do fairly striue.
Curf.
I thought this faiery mony would nere thriue.
Exeūt
Ben.
I haue heard all this roguerie.
Enter Ben.
Cheare, Widow: let not sorrow make thee sicke.
Perhaps, Ile catch the knaues at their owne tricke.
Ent. Thir.
Thir.
So ho—my master's turn'd Reueller. I neuer lost my name
not Thirsty.
Enter Nice.
Ben.
Now my wise kindred, why looke you so pale?
Nic.
O, Ile put off my wedding. I will not for all Bedford
marry to morrow.
Ben.
No? why?
Nic.
O, my Vncle reaching for a Cup, ouerthrew the salt
towards me—towards me. O tis ominous.
Ben.
The falling of a salt keep thee from mariage! well, I
haue a strange medicine, of quick cure to this conceited sicknesse.
Robin, fetch me some wine. Coz, how dost feele thy
selfe?
Thir.
Hee shakes as if he had the gurning agew.
Nic.
Perplexed Cousin, perplexed. I had rather a good
Lordship had falne toward me.
Ben.
Tut man, salt seasons all things; fish or flesh.
And troth, thou need'st it: for thy witte's but fresh.
Here bloud, I drinke to thee.
Thir.
Now could I dance like a Dutch Froe: my heeles are
as light as my head.
Nic.
Oh I recant. Cousin, I will marry.
Ben.
What meant you Sir, to spill the wine vpon him?
Rob.
'Twas a mischance Sir.
Nice.
No: it was good hap.
Tis a good signe, t'haue wine spilt in ones lappe:
This makes amends for the salt, Sir.
Ben.
I thought this docke would fetch your nettle out.
I see, small wind turnes a fooles mill about. Let's goe.
Exeūt.
Wife.
Yonder comes my Physician and his potion.
Enter Gripe.
Grip.
I haue here two papers: oue of sugar, and that's for
my selfe: another of poyson, and that's for my Ostice. Let me
be right-right. I should make faire worke, if I were mistaken
now. Ha widow! th'art a Churle-a very churle, that
wouldst not keepe companie with thy guests. I ha'brought
thee a cup of wine here: health and bloud to thee, sweete
Widow.
A miracle: An Vsurer drunke at's owne cost.
Gripe.
There's a whole cup for thee: pledge mee chucke.
Nay tarry, tarry: thou must haue sugar to't; women loue
sweet things, I know. So, off with't bottome and all: the deeper
the sweeter. Ha Ostice, my sonne shall giue thee a lease
of thine Inne.
Wife.
I would hee could grant me a lease of my life: for I
grow sick sir. Robin, looke in.
Exit Rob.
Gripe.
(Excellent rattes-bane) it workes already. Widow,
dost remember since thou wast in my studie? and yfaith what
foundst there?
Wife.
Nothing, but what I left behinde me, Sir. I'm very
sicke.
Gripe.
(Ile nere trust poyson els.) This cottons wel yet. No
sooner dead, but my sonne shall ceaze on all the goods.
Search the coffers for my morgage. If it be lost, yet now shee I
keepe counsell.
Wife.
This wine hath made me thirsty: I'm not well.
Gripe.
Hye thee to bedde and swear. A little posset with
two-penny worth of horse-spice. O tis excellent to put one
into a sweat. Farewell widow.
Exit.
Wife.
So I'm recouerd now: thy absence cures me.
O earth! thou center of the world and sinne;
Tsty Paradise is lost: th'art only now
A larger stable, where all vices dwell.
Did not the Sunne shine, I should thinke thee hell.
Enter Vaster.
Lucky! here comes the cheater. Sir, the money is askt for by
the Gentlemen, your friends: They threaten to arrest me, but
I hope sir, you'l be my quittance.
Uast.
Yes: on this condition.
Let me enioy thy loue on this soft ground:
Ile pay it backe, were it three hundred pound.
Stirre not: this chargeth you: are you not content?
Come, with a silent kisse seale your consent.
Wife.
Sir, you know my disease. I'm dangerous.
Vast.
The poxe? O I haue knowne London too long to bee
key. If not, Ile to Virginia, like some cheating Bankrout,
and leaue my Creditour ith' suddes. You know the Iayle. Ha
you neuer bin hir'd to yawle for the whole prison? and whule
to the passengers?
Wife.
Sorcerer, thy circle cannot hold me.
Uast.
No; I would haue yours holde mee. Come, will you
fadge?
Wife.
Not, if thou killst me: not if thy murderous hand
Could put me to a death, (like Iesuites poison)
Ten yeeres a dying.
Vast.
No? you will repent.
Wife.
So wilt thou neuer: take my carcase, slaue:
Whiles there's a soule within; no lustfull hand
Did or shall euer touch it.
Vast.
Politick whore!
What, do you ken me now?
Wife.
My husband? ô,
discouers himselfe.
Into your armes I flie.
Uast.
Infection, no.
Y'are dangerous by your owne confession.
Wife.
Alas! I forg'd that answere, to auoid
Sinfull embracings. Brothels sicke indeed
Of that contagion, sooth and smother't vp,
To tempt distrustfull commers on, at once
To their owne profit, and the others ruine.
They speake false, to do false the safer. I
To saue my conscience did my flesh bely.
Vast.
You cannot tempt me Siren; I am resolute.
Thou art a cunning Bitch, and I am proud
Of such expected meanes to my reuenge.
Harke, how Ile quittance thy abhorred lusts.
First, thou shalt be arrested for the money,
Whereof I cheated thee: so be restrain'd
From thy old straggling, mew'd vp like a haggard;
Till the Assise comes, then thou shalt be hang'd.
I heare thou standst bound ouer for suspicion
Of robbing Gripe. I did the villanie.
Ile ha't prou'd thine: so thou shalt hang for me.
Wife.
Deare husband, do so.
Vast.
Husband me no more:
That name was cancell'd when you first playd whore.
But I am no loue-foole, wonne with womans teares.
Wife.
O prosecute your wil. Thus on my knees,
And with a heart more humbled, I intreat,
And I must haue it granted ere I rise;
Be pleas'd to make this life a sacrifice,
To expiate your wrath. I freely yeeld it,
For your redemption. For your hate I dye;
That might not liue in your loues companie.
If I confesse not guilty, to saue you,
Imagine then all your suspicions true.
But when for your debts I haue payd this life,
Beleeue but then, you had a faithfull wife.
Vast.
O, thou wouldst melt a rocke. My heart's too dead,
To sprout at this wet Aprill. Fare you well.
Exit.
Wife.
Peace and content attend you: and let still
Mercie forgiue, and rectifie your ill.
Enter Ben.
Ben.
What? not dead yet? but weeping? come, come dry
Vp all thy teares: goe hye thee in, and dye.
Much villanie is now together pack't.
The Scene growes full. Your patience this last act.
Exeunt.
| The Honest Lavvyer | |