MAYBERRY
O, I know her stomach; she is but retir’d into another chamber, to ease her heart with crying a little; it hath ever been her humour.She hath done it five or six times in a day, when courtiers have been here, if any thing be out of order, and yet every return laugh’d and been as merry.And how is it, gentlemen, you are well acquainted with this room, are you not?
GREENSHIELD
I had a delicate banquet once on that table.
MAYBERRY
In good time.[Aside.] But you are better acquainted with my bed chamber.
BELLAFRONT
Were the cloth of gold cushions set forth at your entertainment?
FEATHERSTONE
Yes, sir.
MAYBERRY
And the cloth of tissue valance?
FEATHERSTONE
They are very rich ones.
MAYBERRY
[Aside.] God refuse me!They are lying rascals!I have no such furniture.
GREENSHIELD
I protest it was the strangest and yet withal the happiest fortune that we should meet you two at Ware, that ever redeemed such desolate actions.I would not wrong you again for a million of Londons.
MAYBERRY
No, do you want any money?Or if you be in debt, I am a hundreth pound i’th’ subsidy.Command me.
FEATHERSTONE
Alas, good gentleman, did you ever read of the like patience in any of your ancient Romans?
BELLAMONT
You see what a sweet face in a velvet cap can do.Your citizens wives are like partridges; the hens are better then the cocks.
FEATHERSTONE
I believe it in troth, sir.You did observe how the gentlewoman could not contain herself when she saw us enter.
BELLAMONT
Right.
FEATHERSTONE
For thus much I must speak in allowance of her modesty; when I had her most private she would blush extremely.
BELLAMONT
Ay, I warrant you, and ask you if you would have such a great sin lie upon your conscience as to lie with another man’s wife?
FEATHERSTONE
In troth, she would.
BELLAMONT
And tell you there were maids enough in London, if a man were so virtuously given, whose portions would help them to husbands though gentlemen gave the first onset.
FEATHERSTONE
You are a merry old gentleman in faith, sir; much like to this was her language.
BELLAMONT
And yet clip you with as voluntary a bosom, as if she had fallen in love with you at some inns a’ court revels, and invited you by letter to her lodging.
FEATHERSTONE
Your knowledge, sir, is perfect without any information.
MAYBERRY
I’ll go see what my wife is doing, gentlemen.When my wife enters, show her this ring, and ‘twill quit all suspicion.
[Exit MAYBERRY.BELLAMONT walks aloof.
FEATHERSTONE
Dost hear, Luke Greenshield?Will thy wife be here presently?
GREENSHIELD
I left my boy to wait upon her, but this light, I think God provides; for if this citizen had not out of his overplus of kindness proferr’d her, her diet and lodging under the name of my sister, I could not have told what shift to have made, for the greatest part of my money is revolted.We’ll make more use of him.The whoreson rich innkeeper of Doncaster her father showed himself a rank ostler, to send her up at this time a year, and by the carrier too; ’twas a jade’s trick of him.
FEATHERSTONE
But have you instructed her to call on you, brother?
GREENSHIELD
Yes, and she’ll do it.I left her at Bosom’s Inn; she’ll be here presently.
Enter MAYBERRY, after him MISTRESS MAYBERRY and KATE.
MAYBERRY
Master Greenshield, your sister is come.My wife is entertaining her.By the mass, I have been upon her lips already.Lady, you are welcome.Look you, Master Greenshield, because your sister is newly come out of the fresh air, and that to be pent up in a narrow lodging here i’th’city may offend her health, she shall lodge at a garden house of mine in Morefields where, if it please you and my worthy friend here to bear her company, your several lodgings and joint commons, to the poor ability of a citizen, shall be present.
FEATHERSTONE
O, God, sir!
MAYBERRY
Nay, no compliment; your loves command it.Shall’s to dinner, gentlemen?Come, Master Bellamont, I’ll be the gentleman usher to this fair lady.
[Exeunt MAYBERRY and BELLAMONT
GREENSHIELD
Here is your ring, Mistress.A thousand times, and would have willingly lost my best of maintenance that I might have found you half so tractable.
WIFE
Sir, I am my self; I know not by what means you have grown upon my husband; he is much deceived in you, I take it.Will you go in to dinner? O, God that I might have my will of him, and it were not for my husband, I’d scratch out his eyes presently!
[ExeuntMISTRESS MAYBERRY and GREENSHIELD.
FEATHERSTONE
Welcome to London, bonny mistress Kate.Thy husband little dreams of the familiarity that hath past between thee and I, Kate.
KATE
No matter if he did; he ran away from me like a base slave as he was, out of Yorkshire, and pretended he would go the island voyage, since I ne’er heard of him till within this fortnight.Can the world condemn me for entertaining a friend, that am used so like an infidel?
FEATHERSTONE
I think not, but if your husband knew of this he’d be divorc’d.
KATE
He would be an ass then.No, wise men should deal by their wives as the sale of ordinance passeth in England; if it break the first discharge, the workmen is at the loss of it; if the second, the merchant and the workmen jointly; if the third, the merchant; so in our case, if a woman prove false the first year, turn her upon her father’s neck; if the second, turn her home to her father but allow her a portion; but if she hold pure metal two year and fly to several pieces in the third, repair the ruins of her honesty at your charges, for the best piece of ordinance may be crack’d in the casting, and for women to have cracks and flaws, alas, they are born to them.Now, I have held out four year.Doth my husband do any things about London?Doth he swagger?
FEATHERSTONE
O, as tame as a fray in Fleet Street, when there are nobody to part them.
KATE
I ever thought so; we have notable valiant fellows about Doncaster; they’ll give the lie and the stab both in an instant.
FEATHERSTONE
You like such kind of manhood best, Kate.
KATE
Yes, in troth, for I think any woman that loves her friend, had rather have him stand by in it then lie by it.But, I pray thee, tell me, why must I be quartered at this citizen’s garden house, say you?
FEATHERSTONE
The discourse of that will set thy blood on fire to be reveng’d on thy husband’s forehead piece.
Enter BELLAFRONT and MISTRESS MAYBERRY.
WIFE
Will you go in to dinner, sir?
KATE
Will you lead the way, forsooth?
WIFE
No, sweet.Forsooth, we’ll follow you.[Exeunt KATE and FEATHERSTONE.
O, Master Bellamont, as ever you took pity upon the simplicity of a poor abused gentlewoman, will you tell me one thing?
BELLAMONT
Any thing, sweet Mistress Mayberry.
WIFE
Ay, but will you do it faithfully?
BELLAMONT
As I respect your acquaintance I shall do it.
WIFE
Tell me then, I beseech you, do not you think this minx is some naughty pack whom my husband hath fallen in love with and means to keep under my nose at his garden house?
BELLAMONT
No, upon my life, is she not.
WIFE
O, I cannot believe it.I know by her eyes she is not honest.Wh
y should my husband proffer them such kindness that have abused him and me so intolerable and will not suffer me to speak?There’s the hell on’t; not suffer me to speak!
BELLAMONT
Fie, fie!He doth that like a usurer that will use a man with all kindness that he may be careless of paying his money upon his day, and afterwards take the extremity of the forfeiture.Your jealousy is idle.Say this were true, it lies in the bosom of a sweet wife to draw her husband from any loose imperfection, from wenching, from covetousness, from crabbedness which is the old man’s common disease, by her politic yielding.She may do it from crabbedness; for example, I have known as tough blades as any are in England broke upon a feather bed.Come to dinner.
WIFE
I’ll be ruled by you, sir, for you are very much like mine uncle.
BELLAMONT
Suspicion works more mischief, grows more strong,
To sever chaste beds then apparent wrong.[Exeunt.
Act Three, Scene One
ENTER DOLL, CHARTLEY, LEVERPOOL, and PHILIP.
PHILIP
Come, my little punk with thy two compositors, to this unlawful printing house.Thy pounders, my old political dad will be here presently.Take up thy state in this chair and bear thyself as if thou wert talking to thy ‘pothecary after the receipt of a purgation.Look scurvily upon him.Sometimes be merry and stand upon thy pantofles like a new elected scavenger.
DOLL
And by and by melancholic like a tilter that hath broke his staves foul before his mistress.
PHILIP
Right, for he takes thee to be a woman of a great count.[Knocking heard.] Hark, upon my life, he’s come.
DOLL
See who knocks.Thou shalt see me make a fool of a poet that hath made five hundred fools.[Exit LEVERPOOL and enter again; PHILIP and CHARTLEY stand aloof.
LEVERPOOL
Please your new ladyship, he’s come.
DOLL
Is he?I should for the more state let him walk some two hours in an outer room; if I did owe him money, ‘twere not much out of fashion.But come, enter him.Stay; when we are in private conference, send in my tailor.[Exit LEVERPOOL.
Enter BELLAMONT brought in by LEVERPOOL.
LEVERPOOL
Look you, my lady’s asleep; she’ll wake presently.
BELLAMONT
I come not to teach a starling, sir.God-boy-you.
LEVERPOOL
Nay, in truth, sir, if my lady should but dream you had been here —
DOLL
Who’s that keeps such a prating?
LEVERPOOL
’Tis I, madam.
DOLL
I’ll have you prefer’d to be a crier.You have an ex’lent throat for’t.Pox a’ the poet!Is he not come yet?
LEVERPOOL
He’s here, madam.
DOLL
Cry you mercy!I ha’ curs’d my monkey for shrewd turns a hundred times, and yet I love it never the worse, I protest.
BELLAMONT
’Tis not in fashion, dear lady, to call the breaking out of a gentlewoman’s lips scabs, but the heat of the liver.
DOLL
So, sir, if you have a sweet breath, and do not smell of sweaty linen, you may draw nearer, nearer.
BELLAMONT
I am no friend to garlic, madam.
DOLL
You write the sweeter verse a great deal, sir.I have heard much good of your wit, master poet.You do many devices for citizen’s wives.I care not greatly because I have a city laundress already, if I get a city poet too.I have such a device for you, and this it is.
Enter Tailor.
O, welcome, tailor.Do but wait till I dispatch my tailor, and I’ll discover my device to you.
BELLAMONT
I’ll take my leave of your ladyship.
DOLL
No, I pray thee, stay.I must have you sweat for my device, master poet.
PHILIP
[Aside to CHARTLEY.] He sweats already, believe it.
DOLL
A cup of wine there.What fashion will make a woman have the best body, tailor.
TAILOR
A short Dutch waist with a round Catherine-wheel farthingale.A close sleeve with a cartoose collar and a pickadell.
DOLL
And what meat will make a woman have a fine wit, master poet?
BELLAMONT
Fowl, madam, is the light, delicate, and witty feeding.
DOLL
Fowl, sayst thou.I know them that feed of it every meal and yet are as arrant fools as any are in a kingdom of my credit.Hast thou done, tailor? [Exit Tailor.] Now, to discover my device, sir.I’ll drink to you, sir.
PHILIP
[Aside to CHARTLEY] God’s precious!We ne’er thought of her device before.Pray God it be any thing tolerable!
DOLL
I’ll have you make twelve poesies for a dozen of cheese trenchers.
PHILIP
[Aside.] Oh, horrible!
BELLAMONT
In Welch, madam?
DOLL
Why in Welsh, sir?
BELLAMONT
Because you will have them serv’d in with your cheese, lady.
DOLL
I will bestow them indeed upon a Welsh captain, one that loves cheese better than venison, for if you should but get three or four Cheshire cheeses and set them a-running down Highgate Hill, he would make more haste after them than after the best kennel of hounds in England.What think you of my device?
BELLAMONT
Fore God, a very strange device and a cunning one.
PHILIP
[Aside.] Now he begins to eye the goblet.
BELLAMONT
You should be akin to the Bellamonts; you give the same arms, madam.
DOLL
Faith, I paid sweetly for the cup, as it may by you and some other gentleman have done for their arms.
BELLAMONT
Ha, the same weight, the same fashion!I had three nest of them given me by a nobleman at the christing of my son Philip.
PHILIP
[Comes forward with CHARTLEY] Your son is come to full age, sir, and hath ta’en possession of the gift of his godfather.
BELLAMONT
Ha, thou wilt not kill me!
PHILIP
No, sir, I’ll kill no poet lest his ghost write satires against me.
BELLAMONT
What’s she?
PHILIP
A good commonwealths woman; she was born for her country and has borne her country.
BELLAMONT
Heart of virtue?What make I here?
PHILIP
This was the party you rail’d on.I keep no worse company than yourself, father.You were wont to say venery is like usury that it may be allowed, though it be not lawful.
BELLAMONT
Wherefore come I hither?
DOLL
To make a device for cheese-trenchers.
PHILIP
I’ll tell you why I sent for you, for nothing but to show you that your gravity may be drawn in.White hairs may fall into the company of drabs as well as red beards into the society of knaves.Would not this woman deceive a whole camp i’th’ low countries and make one commander believe she only kept her cabin for him, and yet quarter twenty more in’t?
DOLL
Pray thee, poet, what dost thou think of me?
BELLAFRONT
I think that art a most admirable, brave, beautiful, whore.
DOLL
Nay, sir, I was told you would rail, but what do you think of my device, sir?Nay, but you are not to depart yet, master poet.Wut sup with me?I’ll cashier all my young barnacles, and we’ll talk over a piece of mutton and a partridge, wisely.
BELLAMONT
Sup with thee?Thou art a common undertaker!Thou that dost promise nothing but watcheth eyes, bombast calves and false periwigs.
DOLL
Pray thee, comb thy beard with a comb of black lead; it may be I shall affect thee.
BELLA
MONT
O, thy unlucky star!I must take my leave of your worship.I cannot fit your device at this instant.I must desire to borrow a nest of goblets of you.O, villainy!I would some honest butcher would bed all the queans and knaves i’th’ city and carry them into some other country; they’d sell better than beefs and calves.What a virtuous city would this be then!Marry, I think there would be a few people left in’t.Ud’s foot!Gull’d with cheese-trenchers and yolk’d in entertainment with a tailor?Good, good![Exit.
PHILIP
How doest, Doll?
DOLL
Scurvy, very scurvy.
LEVERPOOL
Where shall’s sup, wench?
DOLL
I’ll sup in my bed.Get you home to your lodging and come when I send for you.O, filthy rogue that I am!
PHILIP
How!How, Mistress Dorothy?
DOLL
Saint Antony’s fire light in your Spanish slops!Ud’s life, I’ll make you know a difference between my mirth and melancholy, you panderly rogue!
OMNES
We observe your ladyship.
PHILIP
The punk’s in her humour!Pax![Exeunt all but DOLL.
DOLL
I’ll humour you and you pox me!Ud’s life, have I lain with a Spaniard of late that I have learnt to mingle such water with my malago?Oh, there’s some scurvy thing or other breeding!How many several loves of players, of vaulters, of lieutenants have I entertain’d besides a runner a’ the ropes, and now to let blood when the sign is at the heart!Should I send him a letter with some jewel in’t, he would require it as lawyers do that return a woodcock pie to their clients when they send them a basin and a ewer!I will instantly go and make myself drunk till I have lost my memory.Love a scoffing poet![Exit.
Act Three, Scene Two
ENTER LEAPFROG AND SQUIRREL.
LEAPFROG
Now, Squirrel, wilt thou make us acquainted with the jest thou promis’d to tell us of?
SQUIRREL
I will discover it, not as a Derbyshire woman discovers her great teeth, in laughter, but softly as a gentleman courts a wench behind an arras; and this it is:young Greenshield’s sister lie in my master’s garden-house here n Morefields.
LEAPFROG
Right, what of this?
SQUIRREL
Marry, sir, if the gentlewoman be not his wife, he commits incest, for I’m sure he lies with her every night.
LEAPFROG
All this I know, but to the rest.
SQUIRREL
I will tell thee, the most politic trick of a woman that ere made a man’s face look wither’d and pale like the tree in Cuckold’s Haven in a great snow, and this it is:my mistress makes her husband believe that she walks in her sleep a’ nights, and to con firm this belief in him, sundry times she hath risen out of her bed, unlock’d all the doors, gone from chamber to chamber, open’d her chests, toss’d about her linen, and when he hath wak’d and miss’d her, coming to question why she conjur’d thus at midnight, he hath found her asleep; marry it was cat’s sleep, for you shall hear what prey she watch’d for.
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 143