MOLL
Why, here’s my hand I’ll meet you, sir.
LAXTON
[Aside] Oh, good gold! — The place, sweet Moll?
MOLL
It shall be your appointment.
LAXTON
Somewhat near Holborn, Moll.
MOLL
In Gray’s Inn Fields then.
LAXTON
A match.
MOLL
I’ll meet you there.
LAXTON
The hour?
MOLL
Three.
LAXTON
That will be time enough to sup at Brainford.
Fall from them to the other.
OPENWORK
I am of such a nature, sir, I cannot endure the house when she scolds. Sh’ has a tongue will be [heard] further in a still morning than Saint Antling’s bell. She rails upon me for foreign wenching, that I being a freeman must needs keep a whore i’ th’ suburbs, and seek to impoverish the liberties. When we fall out, I trouble you still to make all whole with my wife.
GOSHAWK
No trouble at all; ’tis a pleasure to me to join things together.
OPENWORK
Go thy ways. [Aside] I do this but to try thy honesty, Goshawk.
The feather shop
JACK
How lik’st thou this, Moll?
MOLL
Oh, singularly! You’re fitted now for a bunch. [Aside] He looks for all the world with those spangled feathers like a nobleman’s bedpost! The purity of your wench would I fain try; she seems like Kent, unconquered, and I believe as many wiles are in her. Oh, the gallants of these times are shallow lechers; they put not their courtship home enough to a wench. ’Tis impossible to know what woman is thoroughly honest, because she’s ne’er thoroughly tried; I am of that certain belief there are more queans in this town of their own making than of any man’s provoking. Where lies the slackness then? Many a poor soul would down, and there’s nobody will push ’em:
Women are courted but ne’er soundly tried,
As many walk in spurs that never ride.
The sempster’s shop.
MISTRESS OPENWORK
Oh, abominable!
GOSHAWK
Nay, more: I tell you in private, he keeps a whore i’ th’ suburbs.
MISTRESS OPENWORK
Oh, spital dealing! I came to him a gentlewoman born. I’ll show you mine arms when you please, sir.
GOSHAWK
[Aside] I had rather see your legs and begin that way.
MISTRESS OPENWORK
’Tis well known he took me from a lady’s service, where I was well beloved of the steward; I had my Latin tongue and a spice of the French before I came to him, and now doth he keep a suburbian whore under my nostrils.
GOSHAWK
There’s ways enough to cry quit with him; hark in thine ear.
MISTRESS OPENWORK
There’s a friend worth a million.
MOLL
[Aside] I’ll try one spear against your chastity, Mistress Tiltyard, though it prove too short by the [burr].
Enter Ralph Trapdoor.
TRAPDOOR
[Aside] Mass, here she is! I’m bound already to serve her, tho’ it be but a sluttish trick. — Bless my hopeful young mistress with long life and great limbs! Send her the upper hand of all bailiffs and their hungry adherents!
MOLL
How now! What art thou?
TRAPDOOR
A poor, ebbing gentleman that would gladly wait for the young flood of your service.
MOLL
My service! What should move you to offer your service to me, sir?
TRAPDOOR
The love I bear to your heroic spirit and masculine womanhood.
MOLL
So, sir, put case we should retain you to us, what parts are there in you for a gentlewoman’s service?
TRAPDOOR
Of two kinds, right worshipful, movable and immovable: movable to run of arrants, and immovable to stand when you have occasion to use me.
MOLL
What strength have you?
TRAPDOOR
Strength, Mistress Moll? I have gone up into a steeple and stayed the great bell as ‘t has been ringing, stopp’d a windmill going.
MOLL
And never struck down yourself?
TRAPDOOR
Stood as upright as I do at this present.
Molls trips up his heels; he falls.
MOLL
Come, I pardon you for this; it shall be no disgrace to you: I have struck up the heels of the high German’s size ere now. What, not stand?
TRAPDOOR
I am of that nature where I love, I’ll be at my mistress’ foot to do her service.
MOLL
Why, well said. But say your mistress should receive injury: have you the spirit of fighting in you? Durst you second her?
TRAPDOOR
Life, I have kept a bridge myself and drove seven at a time before me.
MOLL
Ay?
TRAPDOOR aside
But they were all Lincolnshire bullocks, by my troth.
MOLL
Well, meet me in Gray’s Inn Fields between three and four this afternoon, and upon better consideration we’ll retain you.
TRAPDOOR
I humbly thank your good mistress-ship.
[Aside] I’ll crack your neck for this kindness.
Exit Trapdoor. Moll meets Laxton.
LAXTON
Remember: three.
MOLL
Nay, if I fail you, hang me.
LAXTON
Good wench, i’faith.
Then Openwork
MOLL
Who’s this?
OPENWORK
’Tis I, Moll.
MOLL
Prithee tend thy shop and prevent bastards.
OPENWORK
We’ll have a pint of the same wine, i’faith, Moll.
[Exeunt Moll and Openwork.] The bell rings.
GOSHAWK
Hark the bell rings; come, gentlemen.
Jack Dapper, where shall’s all munch?
JACK
I am for Parker’s ordinary.
LAXTON
He’s a good guest to ‘m; he deserves his board:
He draws all the gentlemen in a term-time thither.
We’ll be your followers, Jack, lead the way.
Look you, by my faith, the fool has feather’d his nest well.
Exeunt gallants [Laxton, Goshawk, Greenwit, Jack Dapper]. Enter Master Gallipot, Master Tiltyard, and servants with water-spaniels and a duck.
TILTYARD
Come, shut up your shops. Where’s Master Openwork?
MISTRESS GALLIPOT
Nay, ask not me, Master Tiltyard.
TILTYARD
Where’s his water-dog? Puh-pist-her-her-pist!
GALLIPOT
Come, wenches, come, we’re going all to Hogsden.
MISTRESS GALLIPOT
To Hogsden, husband?
GALLIPOT
Ay, to Hogsden, pigsney.
MISTRESS GALLIPOT
I’m not ready, husband.
GALLIPOT
Faith, that’s well. Hum-pist-pist!
Spits in the dog’s mouth.
Come, Mistress Openwork, you are so long.
MISTRESS OPENWORK
I have no joy of my life, Master Gallipot.
GALLIPOT
Push, let your boy lead his water-spaniel along and we’ll show you the bravest sport at Parlous Pond. Hey Trug, hey Trug, hey Trug! Here’s the best duck in England, except my wife.
Hey, hey, hey, fetch, fetch, fetch, come let’s away;
Of all the year this is the sportfull’st day.
Act II Scene 2.
A STREET
Enter Sebastian solus.
SEBASTIAN
If a man have a free will, where should the use
More perfect shine than in his will
to love?
All creatures have their liberty in that,
Enter Sir Alexander and listens to him.
Tho’ else kept under servile yoke and fear;
The very bondslave has his freedom there.
Amongst a world of creatures voic’d and silent
Must my desires wear fetters? [Aside] Yea, are you
So near? Then I must break with my heart’s truth,
Meet grief at a back way; well. — Why, suppose
The two-leav’d tongues of slander or of truth
Pronounce Moll loathsome: if before my love
She appear fair, what injury have I?
I have the thing I like. In all things else
Mine own eye guides me, and I find ’em prosper.
Life, what should ail it now? I know that man
Ne’er truly loves, if he gainsay ‘t he lies,
That winks and marries with his father’s eyes.
I’ll keep mine own wide open.
Enter Moll and a Porter with a viol on his back.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] Here’s brave willfulness,
A made match. Here she comes; they met a’ purpose.
PORTER
Must I carry this great fiddle to your chamber, Mistress Mary?
MOLL
Fiddle, goodman hog-rubber? Some of these porters bear so much for others they have no time to carry wit for themselves.
PORTER
To your own chamber, Mistress Mary?
MOLL
Who’ll hear an ass speak? Whither else, goodman pageant-bearer? They’re people of the worst memories.
Exit Porter.
SEBASTIAN
Why, ‘twere too great a burthen, love, to have them carry things in their minds and a’ their backs together.
MOLL
Pardon me, sir, I thought not you so near.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] So, so, so.
SEBASTIAN
I would be nearer to thee, and in that fashion
That makes the best part of all creatures honest.
No otherwise I wish it.
MOLL
Sir, I am so poor to requite you, you must look for nothing but thanks of me. I have no humour to marry: I love to lie a’ both sides a’ th’ bed myself; and again a’ th’ other side, a wife, you know, ought to be obedient, but I fear me I am too headstrong to obey, therefore I’ll ne’er go about it. I love you so well, sir, for your good will I’d be loath you should repent your bargain after, and therefore we’ll ne’er come together at first. I have the head now of myself and am man enough for a woman; marriage is but a chopping and changing, where a maiden loses one head and has a worse i’ th’ place.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] The most comfortablest answer from a roaring girl
That ever mine ears drunk in.
SEBASTIAN
This were enough
Now to affright a fool forever from thee,
When ’tis the music that I love thee for.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] There’s a boy spoils all again.
MOLL
Believe it, sir, I am not of that disdainful temper, but I could love you faithfully.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] A pox on you for that word! I like you not now:
Y’are a cunning roarer; I see that already.
MOLL
But sleep upon this once more, sir, you may chance shift a mind tomorrow. Be not too hasty to wrong yourself; never while you live, sir, take a wife running: many have run out at heels that have done ‘t. You see, sir, I speak against myself, and if every woman would deal with their suitor so honestly, poor younger brothers would not be so often gull’d with old cozening widows that turn o’er all their wealth in trust to some kinsman and make the poor gentleman work hard for a pension. Fare you well, sir.
SEBASTIAN
Nay, prithee, one word more.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] How do I wrong this girl: she puts him off still!
MOLL
Think upon this in cold blood, sir: you make as much haste as if you were a-going upon a sturgeon voyage. Take deliberation, sir; never choose a wife as if you were going to Virginia.
SEBASTIAN
And so we parted, my too-cursed fate.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] She is but cunning, gives him longer time in’t.
Enter a Tailor.
TAILOR
Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll: so ho ho so ho!
MOLL
There boy, there boy! What, dost thou go a-hawking after me with a red clout on thy finger?
TAILOR
I forgot to take measure on you for your new breeches.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] Hoyda! Breeches! What, will he marry a monster with two trinkets? What age is this? If the wife go in breeches, the man must wear long coats like a fool.
MOLL
What fiddling’s here? Would not the old pattern have serv’d your turn?
TAILOR
You change the fashion; you say you’ll have the great Dutch slop, Mistress Mary.
MOLL
Why, sir, I say so still.
TAILOR
Your breeches then will take up a yard more.
MOLL
Well, pray look it be put in then.
TAILOR
It shall stand round and full, I warrant you,
MOLL
Pray make ’em easy enough.
TAILOR
I know my fault now: t’other was somewhat stiff between the legs; I’ll make these open enough, I warrant you.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Aside] Here’s good gear towards! I have brought up my son to marry a Dutch slop and a French doublet, a codpiece-daughter!
TAILOR
So, I have gone as far as I can go.
MOLL
Why then, farewell.
TAILOR
If you go presently to your chamber, Mistress Mary, pray send me the measure of your thigh by some honest body.
MOLL
Well, sir, I’ll send it by a porter presently.
Exit Moll.
TAILOR
So you had need: it is a lusty one; both of them would make any porter’s back ache in England.
Exit Tailor.
SEBASTIAN
I have examined the best part of man,
Reason and judgment, and in love they tell me
They leave me uncontroll’d: he that is sway’d
By an unfeeling blood past heat of love,
His springtime must needs err; his watch ne’er goes right
That sets his dial by a rusty clock.
SIR ALEXANDER
[Coming forward] So, and which is that rusty clock, sir? You?
SEBASTIAN
The clock at Ludgate, sir; it ne’er goes true.
SIR ALEXANDER
But thou goest falser: not thy father’s cares
Can keep thee right. When that insensible work
Obeys the workman’s art, lets off the hour
And stops again when time is satisfied;
But thou runn’st on, and judgment, thy main wheel,
Beats by all stops, as if the work would break
Begun with long pains for a minute’s ruin,
Much like a suffering man brought up with care
At last bequeath’d to shame and a short prayer.
SEBASTIAN
I taste you bitterer than I can deserve, sir.
SIR ALEXANDER
Who has bewitch[‘d] thee, son? What devil or drug
Hath wrought upon the weakness of thy blood
And betray’d all her hopes to ruinous folly?
Oh, wake from drowsy and enchanted shame,
Wherein thy soul sits with a golden dream,
Flatter’d and poisoned! I am old, my son;
Oh, let me prevail quickly,
For I have weightier business of mine o
wn
Than to chide thee: I must not to my grave
As a drunkard to his bed, whereon he lies
Only to sleep and never cares to rise.
Let me dispatch in time; come no more near her.
SEBASTIAN
Not honestly? Not in the way of marriage?
SIR ALEXANDER
What, sayst thou marriage? In what place, the sessions-house? And who shall give the bride, prithee, an indictment?
SEBASTIAN
Sir, now ye take part with the world to wrong her.
SIR ALEXANDER
Why, wouldst thou fain marry to be pointed at?
Alas, the number’s great; do not o’erburden ‘t.
Why, as good marry a beacon on a hill,
Which all the country fix their eyes upon
As her thy folly dotes on. If thou long’st
To have the story of thy infamous fortunes,
Serve for discourse in ordinaries and taverns,
Th’ art in the way; or to confound thy name,
Keep on, thou canst not miss it; or to strike
Thy wretched father to untimely coldness,
Keep the left hand still, it will bring thee to’t.
Yet if no tears wrung from thy father’s eyes,
Nor sighs that fly in sparkles from his sorrows,
Had power to alter what is willful in thee,
Methinks her very name should fright thee from her
And never trouble me.
SEBASTIAN
Why is the name of Moll so fatal, sir?
SIR ALEXANDER
[Marry], one, sir, where suspect is ent’red,
For seek all London from one end to t’other
More whores of that name than of any ten other.
SEBASTIAN
What’s that to her? Let those blush for themselves.
Can any guilt in others condemn her?
I’ve vow’d to love her: let all storms oppose me
That ever beat against the breast of man,
Nothing but death’s black tempest shall divide us.
SIR ALEXANDER
Oh, folly that can dote on nought but shame!
SEBASTIAN
Put case a wanton itch runs through one name
More than another: is that name the worse
Where honesty sits possess’d in’t? It should rather
Appear more excellent and deserve more praise
When through foul mists a brightness it can raise.
Why, there are of the devil’s honest gentlemen,
And well descended, keep an open house,
And some a’ th’ good man’s that are arrant knaves.
He hates unworthily that by rote contemns,
For the name neither saves nor yet condemns.
And for her honesty, I have made such proof an’t
In several forms, so nearly watch’d her ways,
I will maintain that strict against an army,
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 164