O my sweet husband, wert thou in thy grave

2.1.2And 604art alive again? O, welcome, welcome!

Dost know me? [Giving her his cloak] My cloak, prithee, lay’t up. Yes, 606faith, my winding-sheet was taken out of lavender, to be 607stuck with rosemary. I lacked but the knot here or here. 608Yet if I had had it, I should ha’ made a wry mouth at the 609world like a plaice. But, sweetest villain, I am here now, and 610I will talk with thee soon.

And glad am I thou’rt here.

Did these heels caper in shackles? Ah, my little 613plump rogue, I’ll bear up for all this, and fly high. Catso, 614catso!

Mattheo –

What sayst, what sayst? O brave fresh air! A pox 617on these grates, and jingling of keys, and rattling of iron. 618I’ll bear up, I’ll fly high, wench. Hang? Toss!

Mattheo, prithee make thy prison thy glass,

2.1.9620And in it view the wrinkles and the scars

2.1.10621By which thou wert disfigured. Viewing them, mend them.

I’ll go visit all the mad rogues now, and the good 623roaring boys.

Thou dost not hear me?

Yes, faith, do I.

Thou hast been in the hands of misery,

2.1.15And ta’en strong 627physic. Prithee, now be sound.

Yes. ’Sfoot, I wonder how the inside of a tavern 629looks now. O, when shall I bezzle, bezzle?

Nay, see, thou’rt thirsty still for poison! Come,

2.1.18I will 631not have thee swagger.

I will not have thee swagger. Honest ape’s face!

’Tis that sharpened an axe to cut thy throat.

2.1.20634Good love, I would not have thee sell thy substance

2.1.21635And time, worth all, in those damned shops of hell,

2.1.22636Those dicing-houses, that stand never well

2.1.23637But when they stand most ill; that four-squared sin

2.1.24638Has almost lodged us in the beggar’s inn.

2.1.25639Besides – to speak which even my soul does grieve –

2.1.26640A sort of ravens have hung upon thy sleeve

2.1.27641And fed upon thee. Good Mat, if you please,

2.1.28642Scorn to spread wing amongst so base as these;

2.1.29643By them thy fame is speckled, yet it shows

2.1.30644Clear amongst them. So crows are fair with crows.

2.1.31645Custom in sin gives sin a lovely dye;

2.1.32646Blackness in Moors is no deformity.

Bellafront, Bellafront, I protest to thee, I swear, as I 648hope for my soul, I will turn over a new leaf. The prison, I 649confess, has bit me; the best man that sails in such a ship 650may be lousy.

One knocks at door.

I’ll be the porter. They shall see a jail cannot hold 653a brave spirit – I’ll fly high!

How wild is his behaviour! O, I fear

2.1.37655He’s spoiled by prison; he’s half damned comes there.

2.1.38656But I must sit all storms. When a full sail

2.1.39His 657fortunes spread, he loved me; being now poor,

2.1.40658I’ll beg for him. And no wife can do more.

Come in, pray. Would you speak with me, sir?

Is your name Signor Mattheo?

My name is Signor Mattheo.

Is this gentlewoman your wife, sir?

This gentlewoman is my wife, sir.

The destinies spin a strong and even thread of both 666your loves! [Aside] The mother’s own face; I ha’ not forgot that. [He weeps.] I’m 667an old man, sir, and am troubled with a whoreson salt rheum, 668that I cannot hold my water. – Gentlewoman, the last man I 669served was your father.

My father? Any tongue that sounds his name

2.1.48671Speaks music to me. Welcome, good old man.

2.1.49672How does my father? Lives he? Has he health?

2.1.50673How does my father? I so much do shame him,

2.1.51674So much do wound him, that I scarce dare name him.

[Weeping.] I can speak no more.

How now, old lad? What, dost cry?

The rheum still, sir, nothing else. I should be well 678seasoned, for mine eyes lie in brine. Look you, sir, I have a 679suit to you.

What is’t, my little white pate?

Troth, sir, I have a mind to serve your worship.

To serve me? Troth, my friend, my fortunes are, as 683a man may say –

Nay, look you, sir. I know when all sins are old 685in us, and go upon crutches, that covetousness does but 686then lie in her cradle. ’Tis not so with me. Lechery loves 687to dwell in the fairest lodging, and covetousness in the 688oldest buildings, that are ready to fall; but my white head, 689sir, is no inn for such a gossip. If a servingman at my years 690be not stored with with biscuit enough, that has sailed about the 691world, to serve him the voyage out of his life, and to bring 692him east home, ill pity but all his days should be fasting 693days. I care not so much for wages, for I have scraped a 694handful of gold together. I have a little money, sir, which 695I would put into your worship’s hands, not so much to 696make it more –

No, no, you say well, thou sayst well. But I must 698tell you – how much is the money, sayst thou?

About twenty pound, sir.

Twenty pound? Let me see; that shall bring thee in, 701after ten per centum per annum –

No, no, no, sir, no; I cannot abide to have money 703engender. Fie upon this silver lechery, fie! If I may have 704meat to my mouth, and rags to my back, and a flock-bed 705to snort upon, when I die the longer liver take all.

A good old boy, i’faith! If thou serv’st me, thou shalt 707eat as I eat, drink as I drink, lie as I lie, and ride as I ride.

[Aside] That’s if you have money to hire horses.

Front, what dost thou think on’t? This good old 710lad here shall serve me.

Alas, Mattheo, wilt thou load a back

2.1.67712That is already broke?

[Aside to her] Peace, pox on you, peace! There’s a trick in’t. I 714fly high. It shall be so, Front, as I tell you. [Aloud to Orlando] Give me thy hand; 715thou shalt serve me, i’faith. Welcome. As for your money –

Nay, look you, sir, I have it here.

Pish, keep it thyself, man, and then thou’rt sure ’tis 718safe.

Safe? An ’twere ten thousand ducats your worship 720should be my cash-keeper. I have heard what your 721worship is – [Aside] An excellent dunghill cock, to scatter all abroad! – 722But I’ll venture twenty pounds on’s head.

And didst thou serve my worshipful 724father-in-law, Signor Orlando Frescobaldo, that madman, once?

I served him so long till he turned me out of doors.

It’s a notable chuff; I ha’ not seen him many a day.

No matter an you ne’er see him; it’s an arrant 728grandee, a churl, and as damned a cut-throat –

Thou villain, curb thy tongue! Thou art a Judas,

2.1.77730To sell thy master’s name to slander thus.

[To her] Away, ass! He speaks but truth. Thy father is a –

Gentleman.

And an old knave. There’s more deceit in him than 734in sixteen ’pothecaries. It’s a devil! Thou mayst beg, starve, 735hang, damn – does he send thee so much as a cheese?

Or so much as a gammon of bacon? 737He’ll give it his dogs first.

A javel, a javel.

A Jew, a Jew, sir.

A dog.

An English mastiff, sir.

Pox rot out his old stinking garbage!

[To him] Art not ashamed to strike an absent man thus?

2.1.88744Art not ashamed to let this vild dog bark,

2.1.89745And bite my father thus? I’ll not endure it.

2.1.90746[To Orland] Out of my doors, base slave!

Your doors? A vengeance! I shall live to cut that old 748rogue’s throat, for all you take his part thus.

[Aside] He shall live to see thee hanged first.

Godso, my lord, your lordship is most welcome.

2.1.94752I’m proud of this, my lord.

I’m proud of this, my lord. Was bold to see you.

2.1.95754Is that your wife?

Is that your wife? Yes, sir.

Is that your wife? Yes, sir. I’ll borrow her lip.

With all my heart, my lord.

Who’s this, I pray, sir?

My lord Hippolito. What’s thy name?

Pacheco.

Pacheco? Fine name! Thou seest, Pacheco, I keep 762company with no scoundrels, nor base fellows.

[Aside to Bellafront] Came not my footman to you?

[Aside to Bellafront] Came not my footman to you? Yes, my Lord.

I sent by him a diamond and a letter;

2.1.103766Did you receive them?

Did you receive them? Yes my lord, I did.

Read you the letter?

Read you the letter? O’er and o’er ’tis read.

And, faith, your answer?

And, faith, your answer? Now the time’s not fit;

2.1.106772You see my husband’s here.

You see my husband’s here. I’ll now then leave you,

2.1.107774And choose mine hour. But ere I part away,

2.1.108775Hark you, remember I must have no nay.

2.1.109776[Aloud] Mattheo, I will leave you.

[Aloud] Mattheo, I will leave you. A glass of wine?

Not now, I’ll visit you at other times.

2.1.111779You’re come off well, then?

Excellent well, I thank your lordship. I owe you 781my life, my lord, and will pay my best blood in any service 782of yours.

I’ll take no such dear payment. Hark you, Mattheo, 784I know the prison is a gulf. If money run low with you, 785my purse is yours; call for it.

Faith, my lord, I thank my stars they send me 787down some. I cannot sink so long as these bladders hold.

I will not see your fortunes ebb. Pray try;

2.1.116789To starve in full barns were fond modesty.

[To Orlando] Open the door, sirrah.

[Aside to Orlando at the door] Drink this [Giving him money]; and anon I pray thee give thy mistress 792this [Giving him a purse].

[Aside] O noble spirit! If no worse guests here dwell,

2.1.120794My blue coat sits on my old shoulders well.

The only royal fellow! He’s bounteous as the Indies. 796What’s that he said to thee, Bellafront?

Nothing.

I prithee, good girl –

Why, I tell you – nothing.

Nothing? It’s well. Tricks! That I must be 801beholden to a scald, hot-livered, goatish gallant to stand with my 802cap in my hand, and vail bonnet, when I ha’ spread as lofty 803sails as himself! Would I had been hanged. Nothing? – 804Pacheco, brush my cloak.

Where is’t, sir?

Come, we’ll fly high.

2.1.128807[To Bellafront] Nothing? There is a whore still in thine eye.

[Aside] My twenty pounds fly high! O wretched woman,

2.1.130809This varlet’s able to make Lucrece common.

2.1.131810[Aloud] How now, mistress? Has my master dyed you into this sad 811colour?

Fellow, begone, I pray thee. If thy tongue

2.1.133Itch after 813talk so much, seek out thy master;

2.1.134Thou’rt a fit instrument 814for him.

Zounds, I hope he will not play upon me.

Play on thee? No, you two will fly together,

2.1.137817Because you are roving arrows of one feather.

2.1.138818Would thou wouldst leave my house! Thou ne’er shalt 819please me;

2.1.139Weave thy nets ne’er so high,

2.1.140820Thou shalt be but a spider in mine eye.

2.1.141821Thou’rt rank with poison. Poison tempered well

2.1.142822Is food for health; but thy black tongue doth swell

2.1.143823With venom, to hurt him that gave thee bread.

2.1.144824To wrong men absent is to spurn the dead;

2.1.145825And so didst thou thy master and my father.

You have small reason to take his part, for I have 827heard him say five hundred times you were as arrant a 828whore as ever stiffened tiffany neckcloths in water-starch 829upon a Saturday i’th’ afternoon.

Let him say worse! When, for the earth’s offence,

2.1.148831Hot vengeance through the marble clouds is driven,

2.1.149832Is’t fit earth shoot again those darts at heaven?

And so, if your father call you whore, you’ll not call 834him old knave. [Aside] Frescobaldo, she carries thy mind up and 835down; she’s thine own flesh, blood, and bone. [Aloud] Troth, 836mistress, to tell you true, the fireworks that ran from me upon 837lines against my good old master, your father, were but to 838try how my young master, your husband, loved such squibs. 839But it’s well known I love your father as myself. I’ll ride 840for him at midnight, run for you by owl-light; I’ll die 841for him, drudge for you; I’ll fly low, and I’ll fly high (as 842my master says), to do you good, if you’ll forgive me.

I am not made of marble; I forgive thee.

Nay, if you were made of marble, a good 845stone-cutter might cut you. I hope the twenty pound I delivered 846to my master is in a sure hand.

In a sure hand, I warrant thee, for spending.

I see my young master is a madcap and a bonus socius. 849I love him well, mistress. Yet, as well as I love him, I’ll not 850play the knave with you. Look you, I could cheat you of 851this purse full of money; but I am an old lad, and I scorn 852to cony-catch. Yet I ha’ been dog at a cony in my time.

A purse! Where hadst it?

The gentleman that went away whispered in mine 855ear and charged me to give it you.

The lord Hippolito?

Yes, if he be a lord; he gave it me.

’Tis all gold.

’Tis like so. It may be he thinks you want money, 860and therefore bestows his alms bravely, like a lord.

He thinks a silver net can catch the poor;

2.1.162862Here’s bait to choke a nun and turn her whore.

2.1.163863Wilt thou be honest to me?

As your nails to your fingers, which I think 865never deceived you.

Thou to this lord shalt go. Commend me to him,

2.1.166867And tell him this: the town has held out long

2.1.167868Because within ’twas rather true than strong.

2.1.168869To sell it now were base; say ’tis no hold

2.1.169870Built of weak stuff, to be blown up with gold.

2.1.170871He shall believe thee by this token, or this;

2.1.171If not, by this.

If not, by this. Is this all?

If not, by this. Is this all? This is all.

[Aside] Mine own girl still!

[Aside] Mine own girl still! A star may shoot, not fall.

A star? Nay, thou art more than the moon, for 877thou hast neither changing quarters nor a man standing in 878thy circle with a bush of thorns. Is’t possible the lord 879Hippolito, whose face is as civil as the outside of a 880dedicatory book, should be a mutton-monger? A poor man has 881but one ewe, and this grandee sheep-biter leaves whole 882flocks of fat wethers whom he may knock down, 883to devour this! I’ll trust neither lord nor butcher with 884quick flesh for this trick. The cuckoo, I see now, sings all 885the year, though every man cannot hear him. But I’ll 886spoil his notes. Can neither love-letters nor the devil’s 887common picklocks, gold nor precious stones, make my 888girl draw up her portcullis? Hold out still, wench!

2.1.174889All are not bawds, I see now, that keep doors,

2.1.175890Nor all good wenches that are marked for whores.