Lov. Runs lunatic, if you but talk of states: He can't be brought, now he has spent his own, To think there is inheritance or means, But all a common riches, all men bound To be his bailiffs Mer. This is something dangerous. Lov. No gentleman that has estate, to use it In keeping house or followers; for those ways He cries against, for eating sins, dull surfeits, Cramming of serving-men, mustering of beggars, Maintaining hospitals for kites and curs, Grounding their fat faiths upon old country proverbs ; God bless the founders! These he would have Into more manly uses, wit, and carriage, [vented And never thinks of state, or means, the ground works; Holding it monstrous, men should feed their bodies, And starve their understandings. Mer. That's most certain. Lov. Yes, if he could stay there. Mer. Why, let him marry, And that way rise again. Lov. It's most impossible; He will not look with any handsomeness Mer. Is he so strange to women? Lov. I know not what it is; a foolish glory He has got, I know not where, to balk those benefits; And yet he will converse and flatter 'em, Enter FOUNTAIN, BELLAMORE, HAREBRAIN, Lov. Oh! their hopes are high, sir. Bel. Last night, I heard. Fount. We miss him monstrously in our direcFor this widow is as stately, and as crafty, [tions; And stands, I warrant you Hare. Let here stand sure; She falls before us else. Valentine. Come, let's go seek [Exeunt. Mer. This widow seems a gallant. And to her handsomeness she bears her state, Lov. There's no hope of that, sir. Mer. O' that condition, he had his mortgage in Lov. I would he had. Mer. Seek means, and see what I'll do: (However, let the money be paid in ;) I never sought a gentleman's undoing, [again. Nor eat the bread of other men's vexations. [for't. Lov. Yes, sir; More miserable than he, for he has eat him And drank him up; a handsome gentleman, And a fine scholar. Val. [Entering.] Bid the young courtier Repair to me anon; I'll read to him. Lov. He comes: be diligent, but not too rugged; Start him, but not affright him. Val. Phew! are you there? Lov. We come to see you, nephew; be not angry. Val. Why do you dog me thus, with these strange people? Why, all the world shall never make me rich more, Ten. We beseech you, Val. Who bid you get 'em? Have you not threshing work enough, but children A piece of cheese would break a saw, and sour milk, Lance. You ought to maintain us; we Have maintain'd you, and, when you slept, pro vided for you. Who bought the silk you wear? I think our labours; Reckon, you'll find it so. Who found your horses Perpetual pots of ale, maintain'd your taverns, And who extoll'd you in the half-crown boxes, Where you might sit and muster all the beauties? We had no hand in these; no, we're all puppies! Your tenants base vexations! Val. Very well, sir. Lance. Had you land, sir, And honest men to serve your purposes, Honest and faithful, and will you run away from 'em, Betray yourself, and your poor tribe to misery; Mortgage all us, like old cloaks? Where will you hunt next? You had a thousand acres, fair and open : The King's Bench is enclosed, there's no good riding; The Counter's full of thorns and brakes (take heed, sir) And bogs; you'll quickly find what broth they're wit: Keep yourself out o' th' rain, and take your cloak with you, Which by interpretation is your state, sir, Or I shall think your fame belied you. You have And may have means. [money, Val. I pr'ythee leave prating! Does my good lie within thy brain to further, Go, get you home; there whistle to your horses, And hang yourselves withal! What am I to you, Or you to me? Am I your landlord, puppies ? Lov. This is uncivil. Val. More unmerciful you, To vex me with these bacon-broth and puddings; Val. My father's worship was a fool! Old Valentine, i'faith; the old boy still! Val. I mean besotted to his state; he had never Lance. We will go; But 'tis like rams, to come again the stronger: [Exeunt LANCE and Tenants, Val. This was my man, and of a noble breeding. Now to your business, uncle. Lov. To your state then. Val. 'Tis gone, and I am glad on't; name it no more; 'Tis that I pray against, and Heav'n has heard me. I tell you, sir, I am more fearful of it, (I mean of thinking of more lands, or livings,) Than sickly men are travelling o' Sundays, For being quell'd with carriers. Out upon't! Caveat emptor! Let the fool out-sweat it, That thinks he has got a catch on't. Lov. This is madness, To be a wilful beggar. Val. I am mad then, And so I mean to be; will that content you? Lov. And from means too. Val. Means? Why, all good men's my means, my wit's my plough, The town's my stock, taverns my standing house, And all the world knows there's no want; all gentlemen That love society love me; all purses That wit and pleasure opens are my tenants; here ? What need state Lov. But, say these means were honest, will they last, sir? Val. Far longer than your jerkin, and wear fairer. Should I take aught of you? 'Tis true, I begg'd now, Or, which is worse than that, I stole a kindness, Val. What's my knowledge, uncle? Is't not worth money? What's my understanding, my travel, reading, wit, Some other that spoke too much, to hold their peace, And put their tongues to pensions; some to wear their clothes, Val. Give it me. Drink that, and commend me to thy master.— [Exeunt Servants. Look you, uncle, do I beg these? Lov. No, sure; it is your worth, sir. Val. "Tis like enough; but, pray satisfy me, Are not these ways as honest as persecuting The starved inheritance, with musty corn The very rats were fain to run away from, Or selling rotten wood by the pound, like spices, Which gentlemen do after burn by the ounces? Do not I know your way of feeding beasts With grains, and windy stuff, to blow up butchers? Your racking pastures, that have eaten up As many singing shepherds, and their issues, As Andeluzia breeds? These are authentic. I tell you, sir, I would not change ways with you, Unless it were to sell your state that hour, And, if 'twere possible, to spend it then too, For all your beans in Rumnillo. Now you know me. Lov. I would you knew yourself; but, since you're grown Such a strange enemy to all that fits you, Lov. From your mortgage, which yet you may I'll find the means. [recover; Val. Pray, save your labour, sir; He has wit at will, the world has means; he shall live Without this trick of state; we are heirs both, Lov. My last offer, And then I'm gone. Val. What is't? and then I'll answer. Lov. What think you of a wife, yet to restore And tell me seriously, without these trifles. [you? Val. An you can find one that can please my You shall not find me stubborn. [fancy, Lov. Speak your woman. Val. One without eyes, that is, self-commendations (For when they find they're handsome, they're unwholesome); One without ears, not giving time to flatterers Val. And without state too? Lov. You're disposed to trifle. Well, fare you well, sir! When you want me next, You'll seek me out a better sense. SCENE II.-Another Street. Enter ISABELLA and LUCE. Luce. I know the cause of all this sadness now; Your sister has engross'd all the brave lovers. Isab. She has wherewithal, much good may't do her! Tr'ythee, speak softly; we are open to men's ears. Luce. Fear not, we're safe; we may see all that pass, Hear all, and make ourselves merry with their language, And yet stand undiscover'd. Be not melancholy; You are as fair as she. Isab. Who, I? I thank you; I am as haste ordain'd me, a thing slubber'd: A woman of a presence; she spreads sattin, Luce. But a tight one. Isab. She is excellent well built too. Isab. She never saw above one voyage, Luce, A subtle chymic wench, and can extract Luce. You are so bashful! Isab. 'Tis not at first word "up and ride;" thou'rt cozen'd; That would shew mad, i'faith! Besides, we lose Enter FRANCISCO and LANCE. Luce. I know not, nor I care not. [too Know all the promises of art and manners: Nay, 'sdeath, I'll pawn my wife! Oh, master That I should see your father's house fall thus ! Isab. An honest fellow ! Lance. Your father's house, that fed me, Isab. A grateful fellow ! Fran. Peace; I know you're angry, Lance, But I must not hear with whom ; he is my brother, And, though you hold him slight, my most dear A gentleman, excepting some few rubs, [brother! (He were too excellent to live here else) Fraughted as deep with noble and brave parts, The issues of a noble and manly spirit, As any he alive. I must not hear you : Though I am miserable, and he made me so, Yet still he is my brother, still I love him, And to that tie of blood link my affections. Isab. A noble nature! Dost thou know him, Luce. No, mistress. [Luce? Isab. Thou shouldst ever know such good men. What a fair body and a mind are married there to- | Did he not say he wanted? Luce. What is that to you? [gether! Alas, poor gentleman! But will that fledge him, Keep him from cold? Believe me, he's well-bred, And cannot be but of a noble lineage. Mark him, and mark him well. Luce. He's a handsome man. Isab. The sweetness of his suff'rance sets him Oh, Luce-But whither go I? Luce. You cannot hide it. Isab. I would he had what I can spare. Luce. 'Tis charitable. [off; Lance. Come, sir, I'll see you lodged; you've tied my tongue fast. I'll steal before you want; 'tis but a hanging! [Exeunt LANCE and FRANCISCO. Isab. That's a good fellow too, an honest fellow ! Why, this would move a stone. I must needs know--But that some other time. Luce. Is the wind there? That makes for me. Isab. Come, I forgot a business. [Aside. [Exeunt. Luce. Poor enough; and no man knows from For else she might behold a hundred handsomer. (I fear her love) framed such a commendation, L. Hea. Is she so hot, or such a want of lovers, That she must dote upon afflictions? Why does she not go rummage all the prisons, And there bestow her youth, bewray her wanton ness, And fly her honour, common both to beggary? Luce. No, he saw us not; But ever since she hath been mainly troubled. Luce. Yes, young enough. L. Hea. And look'd he like a gentleman? Luce. Like such a gentleman would pawn ten oaths for twelve pence. L. Hea. My sister, and sink basely! This must Does she use means to know him? [not be. Luce. Yes, madam; and has employ'd a squire call'd Shorthose. L. Hea. Oh, that's a precious knave! Keep all this private; But still be near her lodging. Luce, what you can gather By any means, let me understand.-I'll stop her And turn her charity another way, [heat, To bless herself first.- Be still close to her counsels.- A beggar, and a stranger! There's a blessedness! I'll none of that. I have a toy yet, sister, Shall tell you this is foul, and make you find it.— And, for your pains, take you the last gown I wore. This makes me mad, but I shall force a remedy! [Exeunt. Are you good at nothing, but these after-games? I've told you often enough what things they are, What precious things, these widows! Hare. If we had 'em, Val. Why, the devil has not craft enough to woo 'em. There be three kinds of fools,-(mark this note, Mark it, and understand it.) [gentlemen, Fount. Well, go forward. Val. An innocent, a knave-fool, a fool politic: The last of which are lovers, widow-lovers. Bel. Will you allow no fortune? Val. No such blind one. Fount. We gave you reasons why 'twas needful for us. Val. As you're those fools, I did allow those reasons, But, as my scholars and companions, damn'd 'em. Hare. Why, to lie with her, and to enjoy her wealth. Val. Why, there you're fools still; crafty to catch yourselves, Pure politic fools; I look'd for such an answer. To wed a widow, to be doubted mainly, Are long extents in law upon men's livings, Lie but with dead men's monuments, and beget Only their own ill epitaphs. Is not this plain now? Bel. Plain spoken. Val. And plain truth; but, if you'll needs Do things of danger, do but lose yourselves, (Not any part concerns your understandings, For then you're meacocks, fools, and miserable) March off amain, within an inch of a firecock, Turn me o' th' toe like a weather-cock! Kill every day a serjeant for a twelvemonth; Rob the Exchequer, and burn all the rolls! And these will make a show. Hare. And these are trifles? Val. Consider'd to a widow, empty nothings; For here you venture but your persons, there The varnish of your persons, your discretions. Why, 'tis a monstrous thing to marry at all, Esp. cially as now 'tis made: Methinks A man, an understanding man, is more wife To me, and of a nobler tie, than all these trinkets. What do we get by women, but our senses, Which is the rankest part about us, satisfied? Fount. Sirrah, we have so look'd for thee, and And, when that's done, what are we? Crest SCENE II.-The Street. Enter FOUNTAIN, BELLAMORE, HAREBRAIN, and VALENTINE. |