0.1The Honest Whore, [Part One]

9Behold, yon comet shows his head again!

1.1.210Twice hath he thus at cross-turns thrown on us

1.1.311Prodigious looks; twice hath he troubled

1.1.412The waters of our eyes. See, heʼs turned wild. –

1.1.513Go on, in Godʼs name.

Go on, in Godʼs name. [To Attendants] On afore there, ho!

Kinsmen and friends, take from your manly sides

1.1.716Your weapons to keep back the despʼrate boy

1.1.817From doing violence to the innocent dead.

I prithee, dear Mattheo –

I prithee, dear Mattheo – Come, youʼre mad.

[To the Duke] I do arrest thee, murderer.

[To the Duke] I do arrest thee, murderer. [To Attendants] Set down,

1.1.1121Villains, set down that sorrow; ʼtis all mine.

[To the Gentlemen] I do beseech you all, for my bloodʼs sake

1.1.1323Send hence your milder spirits, and let wrath

1.1.1424Join in confederacy with your weaponsʼ points;

1.1.1525If he proceed to vex us, let your swords

1.1.1626Seek out his bowels. Funeral grief loathes words.

[To Attendants] Set on.

[To Attendants] Set on. [To Attendants] Set down the body.

[To Attendants] Set on. [To Attendants] Set down the body. O my lord,

1.1.1830Youʼre wrong! Iʼthʼ open street? You see sheʼs dead.

I know she is not dead.

I know she is not dead. Frantic young man,

1.1.2033Wilt thou believe these gentlemen? Pray speak.

1.1.2134Thou dost abuse my child, and mockst the tears

1.1.2235That here are shed for her. If to behold

1.1.2336Those roses withered that set out her cheeks,

1.1.2437That pair of stars that gave her body light

1.1.2538Darkened and dim for ever, all those rivers

1.1.2639That fed her veins with warm and crimson streams

1.1.2740Frozen and dried up – if these be signs of death,

1.1.2841Then is she dead. Thou unreligious youth,

1.1.2942Art not ashamed to empty all these eyes

1.1.3043Of funeral tears, a debt due to the dead

1.1.3144As mirth is to the living? Shamʼst thou not

1.1.3245To have them stare on thee? Hark, thou art curst

1.1.3346Even to thy face by those that scarce can speak.

My lord –

My lord – What wouldst thou have? Is she not dead?

O, you haʼ killed her by your cruelty!

Admit I had, thou killst her now again,

1.1.3751And art more savage than a barbarous Moor.

Let me but kiss her pale and bloodless lip.

O fie, fie, fie!

Or if not touch her, let me look on her.

As you regard your honour –

As you regard your honour – Honour? Smoke!

Or if you loved her living, spare her now.

Ay, well done, sir; you play the gentleman.

1.1.4459[Aside to Attendants] Steal hence. ʼTis nobly done. Away.

[Aside to Attendants] Steal hence. ʼTis nobly done. Away. [To Mattheo] Iʼll join

1.1.4560My force to yours, to stop this violent torrent.

1.1.4661[To Attendants] Pass on.

[To Attendants] Pass on. Mattheo, thou dost wound me more.

I give you physic, noble friend, not wounds.

O, well said, well done; a true gentleman!

1.1.4965Alack, I know the sea of loversʼ rage

1.1.5066Comes rushing with so strong a tide it beats

1.1.5167And bears down all respects of life, of honour,

1.1.5268Of friends, of foes. [To Hippolito] Forget her, gallant youth.

Forget her?

Forget her? Nay, nay, be but patient,

1.1.5471Forwhy deathʼs hand hath sued a strict divorce

1.1.5572ʼTwixt her and thee. Whatʼs beauty but a corse?

1.1.5673What but fair sand-dust are earthʼs purest forms?

1.1.5774Queensʼ bodies are but trunks to put in worms.

[Aside to Duke] Speak no more sentences, my good lord, but slip 76hence. You see they are but fits; Iʼll rule him, I warrant ye. Ay, so, 77tread gingerly; your Grace is here somewhat too long already.

1.1.5978[Aside] ʼSblood, the jest were now, if having taʼen some knocks 79oʼthʼ pate already, he should get loose again, and, like a mad 80ox, toss my new black cloaks into the kennel. I must humour 81his lordship. [To Hippolito] My lord Hippolito, is it in your stomach to 82go to dinner?

Where is the body?

The body, as the Duke spake very wisely, is gone 85to be wormed.

I cannot rest. Iʼll meet it at next turn.

1.1.6387Iʼll see how my love looks.

How your love looks? Worse than a scarecrow. 89Wrestle not with me; the great fellow gives the fall for a ducat.

I shall forget myself!

Pray do so; leave yourself behind yourself, and 92go whither you will. ʼSfoot, do you long to have base rogues, 93that maintain a Saint Anthonyʼs fire in their noses by nothing 94but twopenny ale, make ballads of you? If the Duke had but so 95much mettle in him as is in a cobblerʼs awl, he would haʼ been a 96vexed thing; he and his train had blown you up but that their 97powder has taken the wet of cowards. Youʼll bleed three pottles 98of Alicant, by this light, if you follow ʼem, and then we 99shall have a hole made in a wrong place, to have surgeons roll 100thee up like a baby in swaddling clouts.

What day is today, Mattheo?

Yea, marry, this is an easy question. Why, today is – 103let me see – Thursday.

O, Thursday.

Hereʼs a coil for a dead commodity! ʼSfoot, women 105when they are alive are but dead commodities, for you 106shall have one woman lie upon many menʼs hands.

She died on Monday, then.

And thatʼs the most villainous day of all the week 109to die in; and she was well, and ate a mess of water-gruel on 110Monday morning.

Ay, it cannot be

1.1.74112Such a bright taper should burn out so soon.

O yes, my lord, so soon. Why, I haʼ known them 114that at dinner have been as well, and had so much health, that they 115were glad to pledge it, yet before three oʼclock have been found 116dead drunk.

On Thursday buried, and on Monday died!

1.1.77118Quick haste, byʼr Lady; sure her winding sheet

1.1.78119Was laid out ʼfore her body, and the worms

1.1.79120That now must feast with her were even bespoke,

1.1.80121And solemnly invited like strange guests.

Strange feeders they are indeed, my lord, and, like 123your jester or young courtier, will enter upon any manʼs trencher 124without bidding.

Curst be that day for ever that robbed her

1.1.83126Of breath, and me of bliss! Henceforth let it stand

1.1.84127Within the wizardʼs book, the calendar,

1.1.85128Marked with a marginal finger, to be chosen

1.1.86129By thieves, by villains, and black murderers

1.1.87130As the best day for them to labour in.

1.1.88131If henceforth this adulterous, bawdy world

1.1.89132Be got with child with treason, sacrilege,

1.1.90133Atheism, rapes, treacherous friendship, perjury,

1.1.91134Slander (the beggarʼs sin), lies (sin of fools),

1.1.92135Or any other damned impieties,

1.1.93136On Monday let ʼem be deliverèd!

1.1.94137I swear to thee, Mattheo, by my soul,

1.1.95138Hereafter weekly on that day Iʼll glue

1.1.96139Mine eyelids down, because they shall not gaze

1.1.97140On any female cheek. And being locked up

1.1.98141In my close chamber, there Iʼll meditate

1.1.99142On nothing but my Infeliceʼs end,

1.1.100143Or on a dead manʼs skull draw out mine own.

Youʼll do all these good works now every Monday, 145because it is so bad; but I hope upon Tuesday morning I 146shall take you with a wench.

If ever, whilst frail blood through my veins run,

1.1.103148On womanʼs beams I throw affection

1.1.104149Save her thatʼs dead, or that I loosely fly

1.1.105150To thʼshore of any other wafting eye,

1.1.106151Let me not prosper, heaven! I will be true,

1.1.107152Even to her dust and ashes. Could her tomb

1.1.108153Stand, whilst I lived, so long that it might rot,

1.1.109154That should fall down, but she be neʼer forgot.

If you have this strange monster, Honesty, in 156your belly, why, so: jig-makers and chroniclers shall pick something 157out of you. But, an I smell not you and a bawdy-house 158out within these ten days, let my nose be as big as an English 159bag-pudding. Iʼll follow your lordship, though it be to 160the place aforenamed.

How now, porter, will she come?

If I may trust a woman, sir, she will come.

[Giving money] Thereʼs for thy pains. God-a-mercy, if I ever stand in 166need of a wench that will come with a wet finger, thou 167shalt earn my money before any clarissimo in Milan. Yet, so 168God saʼ me, sheʼs mine own sister, body and soul, as I am a 169Christian gentleman. Farewell. Iʼll ponder till she come. Thou 170hast been no bawd in fetching this woman, I assure thee.

No matter if I had, sir; better men than porters are 172bawds.

O God, sir, many that have borne offices. But, porter, 174art sure thou wentst into a true house?

I think so, for I met with no thieves.

Nay, but art sure it was my sister Viola?

I am sure by all superscriptions it was the party you ciphered.

Not very tall.

Not very low; a middling woman.

ʼTwas she, faith, ʼtwas she. A pretty plump cheek like mine?

At a blush, a little; very much like you.

Godso, I would not for a ducat she had kicked up her 183heels, for I haʼ spent an abomination this voyage; marry, I 184did it amongst sailors and gentlemen. [Giving more money] Thereʼs a little modicum 185more, porter, for making thee stay. Farewell, honest porter.

I am in your debt, sir. God preserve you.

Not so neither, good porter.

1.2.16Godʼs lid, yonder she comes. – 189Sister Viola, I am glad to see you stirring. Itʼs news to have me 190here, isʼt not, sister?

Yes, trust me. I wondered who should be so bold to 192send for me. You are welcome to Milan, brother.

Troth, sister, I heard you were married to a very rich 194chuff, and I was very sorry for it that I had no better clothes, 195and that made me send; for you know we Millaners love to 196strut upon Spanish leather. Ant how does all our friends?

Very well. You haʼ travelled enough now, I trow, to 198sow your wild oats.

A pox on ʼem! Wild oats? I haʼ not an oat to throw 200at a horse. Troth, sister, I haʼ sowed my oats, and reaped two hundred 201ducats if I had ʼem here. Marry, I must entreat you to lend me 202some thirty or forty till the ship come. By this hand, Iʼll discharge at my day, by this hand.

These are your old oaths.

Why, sister, do you think Iʼll forswear my hand?

Well, well, you shall have them. Put yourself into 207better fashion, because I must employ you in a serious matter.

Iʼll sweat like a horse if I like the matter.

You haʼ cast off all your old swaggering humours?

I had not sailed a league in that great fishpond, the 211sea, but I cast up my very gall.

I am the more sorry, for I must employ a true 213swaggerer.

Nay, by this iron [Indicating his sword], sister, they shall find I am powder 215and touch-box, if they put fire once into me.

Then lend me your ears.

Mine ears are yours, dear sister.

I am married to a man that has wealth enough, and 219wit enough.

A linen-draper, I was told, sister.

Very true, a grave citizen. I want nothing that a 222wife can wish from a husband. But hereʼs the spite: he has 223not all things belonging to a man.

Godʼs my life, heʼs a very mandrake, or else, God bless 225us, one oʼthese whiblins, and thatʼs worse, and then all the 226children that he gets lawfully of your body, sister, are bastards by 227a statute.

O, you run over me too fast, brother! I have heard it 229often said that he who cannot be angry is no man. I am sure 230my husband is a man in print for all things else save only in 231this: no tempest can move him.

ʼSlid, would he had been at sea with us. He should haʼ 233been moved and moved again, for Iʼll be sworn, la, our 234drunken ship reeled like a Dutchman.

No loss of goods can increase him a wrinkle, no 236crabbed language make his countenance sour, the 237stubbornness of no servant shake him. He has no more gall in him than a 238dove, no more sting than an ant. Musician will he never be, 239yet I find much music in him; but he loves no frets, and is 240so free from anger that many times I am ready to bite off my 241tongue, because it wants that virtue which all womenʼs tongues 242have, to anger their husbands. Brother, mine can by no 243thunder turn him into a sharpness.

Belike his blood, sister, is well brewed, then.

I protest to thee, Fustigo, I love him most 246affectionately, but I know not – I haʼ such a tickling 247within me, such a strange longing; nay, verily, I do 248long.

Then youʼre with child, sister, by all signs and 250tokens; nay, I am partly a physician, and partly something 251else. I haʼ read Albertus Magnus, and Aristotleʼs 252Emblems.

Youʼre wide oʼthʼ bow-hand still, brother. My longings 254are not wanton, but wayward: I long to have my patient 255husband eat up a whole porcupine to the intent the bristling 256quills may stick about his lips like a Flemish mustachio and be 257shot at me. I shall be leaner than the new moon unless I 258can make him horn-mad.

ʼSfoot, half a quarter of an hour does that: make him 260a cuckold.

Pooh! He would count such a cut no unkindness.

The honester citizen he. Then make him drunk, and 263cut off his beard.

Fie, fie, idle, idle! Heʼs no Frenchman, to fret at the 265loss of a little scald hair. No, brother, thus it shall be – you must 266be secret.

As your midwife, I protest, sister, or a barber-surgeon.

Repair to the Tortoise here in Saint Christopherʼs Street. 269I will send you money; turn yourself into a brave man. Instead 270of the arms of your mistress, let your sword and your military 271scarf hang about your neck.

I must have a great horsemanʼs French feather too, 273sister.

O, by any means, to show your light head; else your 275hat will sit like a coxcomb. To be brief, you must be in all 276points a most terrible, wide-mouthed swaggerer.

Nay, for swaggering points let me alone.

Resort then to our shop, and, in my husbandʼs presence, 279kiss me, snatch rings, jewels, or anything, so you give it back 280again, brother, in secret.

By this hand, sister.

Swear as if you came but new from 283knighting.

Nay, Iʼll swear after four hundred a year.

Swagger worse than a lieutenant among fresh-water 286soldiers; call me your love, your ingle, your cousin, or so – but 287‘sisterʼ at no hand.

No, no, it shall be ‘cousinʼ, or rather ‘cozʼ – thatʼs the 289gulling word between the citizensʼ wives and their madcaps 290that man ʼem to the garden. To call you one oʼmy naunts, sister, 291were as good as call you arrant whore. No, no, let me alone to 292‘cousinʼ you rarely.

Hʼas heard I have a brother, but never saw him; 294therefore put on a good face.

The best in Milan, I warrant.

Take up wares, but pay nothing. Rifle my bosom, my 297pocket, my purse, the boxes for money to dice withal. But, 298brother, you must give all back again, in secret.

By this welkin that here roars, I will, or else 300let me never know what a secret is. Why, sister, do you think 301Iʼll cony-catch you, when you are my cousin? Godʼs my life, 302then I were a stark ass. If I fret not his guts, beg me for a 303fool.

Be circumspect and do so, then. Farewell.

The Tortoise, sister? Iʼll stay there. – Forty ducats.

Thither Iʼll send.

Thither Iʼll send. This law can none deny:

1.2.64307Women must have their longings, or they die.

1.3.1309Give charge that none do enter; lock the doors.

1.3.2310And, fellows, what your eyes and ears receive,

1.3.3311Upon your lives trust not the gadding air

1.3.4312To carry the least part of it. [To the Doctor] The glass,

1.3.5The hour-glass.

The hour-glass. Here, my lord.

The hour-glass. Here, my lord. Ah, ʼtis near spent!

1.3.6315But, Doctor Benedict, does your art speak truth?

1.3.7316Art sure the soporiferous stream will ebb,

1.3.8317And leave the crystal banks of her white body

1.3.9318Pure as they were at first, just at the hour?

Just at the hour, my lord.

Just at the hour, my lord. [To Servants] Uncurtain her.

1.3.11321Softly! – See, doctor, what a coldish heat

1.3.12322Spreads over all her body.

Spreads over all her body. Now it works:

1.3.13324The vital spirits that by a sleepy charm

1.3.14325Were bound up fast, and threw an icy crust

1.3.15326On her exterior parts, now ʼgin to break.

1.3.16327Trouble her not, my lord.

Trouble her not, my lord. [To Servants] Some stools.

Trouble her not, my lord. [To Servants] Some stools. You called

1.3.17329For music, did you not? [Music plays.] Oho, it speaks,

1.3.18330It speaks! [To Servants] Watch, sirs, her waking: note those sands. –

1.3.19331Doctor, sit down.

Doctor, sit down. A dukedom that should weigh

1.3.20332Mine own down twice, being put into one scale,

1.3.21333And that fond desperate boy Hippolito

1.3.22334Making the weight up, should not at my hands

1.3.23335Buy her iʼthʼ tother, were her state more light

1.3.24336Than hers who makes a dowry up with alms.

1.3.25337Doctor, Iʼll starve her on the Apennine

1.3.26338Ere he shall marry her. I must confess

1.3.27339Hippolito is nobly born – a man,

1.3.28340Did not mine enemiesʼ blood boil in his veins,

1.3.29341Whom I would court to be my son-in-law;

1.3.30342But princes, whose high spleens for empery swell,

1.3.31343Are not with easy art made parallel.

She wakes, my lord.

She wakes, my lord. Look, Doctor Benedict!

1.3.33345[To Servants] I charge you on your lives, maintain for truth

1.3.34346Whateʼer the doctor or myself aver,

1.3.35347For you shall bear her hence to Bergamo.

[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams!

[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams! Lady!

[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams! Lady! Ha!

[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams! Lady! Ha! Girl!

1.3.37351Why, Infelice, how isʼt now, ha? Speak.

Iʼm well. – What makes this doctor here? – Iʼm well.

Thou wert not so even now. Sicknessʼ pale hand

1.3.40354Laid hold on thee even in the midst of feasting,

1.3.41355And when a cup crowned with thy loverʼs health

1.3.42356Had touched thy lips, a sensible cold dew

1.3.43357Stood on thy cheeks, as if that death had wept

1.3.44358To see such beauty alter.

To see such beauty alter. I remember

1.3.45360I sat at banquet, but felt no such change.

Thou hast forgot, then, how a messenger

1.3.47362Came wildly in, with this unsavoury news,

1.3.48363That he was dead?

That he was dead? What messenger? Whoʼs dead?

Hippolito. Alack, wring not thy hands.

I saw no messenger, heard no such news.

Trust me, you did, sweet lady.

Trust me, you did, sweet lady. La you now!

Yes indeed, madam.

Yes indeed, madam. La you now.

Yes indeed, madam. La you now. ʼTis well, good knaves.

You haʼ slain him, and now youʼll murder me.

Good Infelice, vex not thus thyself.

1.3.55372Of this bad the report before did strike

1.3.56373So coldly to thy heart that the swift currents

1.3.57374Of life were all frozen up –

Of life were all frozen up – It is untrue.

1.3.58376ʼTis most untrue, O most unnatural father!

And we had much to do by artʼs best cunning

1.3.60378To fetch life back again.

To fetch life back again. Most certain, lady.

Why, la you now, youʼll not believe me! [To Servants] Friends,

1.3.62381Sweat we not all? Had we not much to do?

Yes indeed, my lord, much.

Death drew such fearful pictures in thy face

1.3.65384That, were Hippolito alive again,

1.3.66385Iʼd kneel and woo the noble gentleman

1.3.67386To be thy husband. Now I sore repent

1.3.68387My sharpness to him and his family.

1.3.69388Nay, do not weep for him; we all must die. –

1.3.70389Doctor, this place where she so oft hath seen

1.3.71390His lively presence hurts her, does it not?

Doubtless, my lord, it does.

Doubtless, my lord, it does. It does, it does.

1.3.73393Therefore, sweet girl, thou shalt to Bergamo.

Even where you will. In any place thereʼs woe.

A coach is ready. Bergamo doth stand

1.3.76396In a most wholesome air: sweet walks; thereʼs deer.

1.3.77397Ay, thou shalt hunt and send us venison,

1.3.78398Which like some goddess in the Cyprian groves

1.3.79399Thine own fair hand shall strike. – Sirs, you shall teach her

1.3.80400To stand, and how to shoot; ay, she shall hunt. –

1.3.81401Cast off this sorrow. In, girl, and prepare

1.3.82402This night to ride away to Bergamo.

O most unhappy maid!

O most unhappy maid! [To Servants] Follow her close.

1.3.84405No words that she was buried, on your lives,

1.3.85406Or that her ghost walks now after sheʼs dead;

1.3.86407Iʼll hang you if you name a funeral.

Iʼll speak Greek, my lord, ere I speak that 409deadly word.

And Iʼll speak Welsh, which is harder than Greek.

Away, look to her.

Away, look to her. Doctor Benedict,

1.3.90412Did you observe how her complexion altered

1.3.91413Upon his name and death? O, would ʼtwere true!

It may, my lord.

It may, my lord. May? How? I wish his death.

And you may have your wish. Say but the word,

1.3.94417And ʼtis a strong spell to rip up his grave.

1.3.95418I have good knowledge with Hippolito;

1.3.96419He calls me friend. Iʼll creep into his bosom,

1.3.97420And sting him there to death. Poison can doʼt.

Perform it; Iʼll create thee half mine heir.

It shall be done, although the fact be foul.

Greatness hides sin. The guilt upon my soul!

Signor Pioratto, Signor Fluello, shallʼs be merry? Shallʼs 426play the wags now?

Ay, anything that may beget the child of laughter.

Truth, I have a pretty sportive conceit new crept into 429my brain will move excellent mirth.

Letʼs haʼt, letʼs haʼt; and where shall the scene of mirth lie?

At Signor Candidoʼs house, the patient man – nay, the 432monstrous patient man. They say his blood is immovable, that 433he has taken all patience from a man, and all constancy from 434a woman.

That makes so many whores nowadays.

Ay, and so many knaves too.

Well, sir.

To conclude, the report goes heʼs so mild, so 439affable, so suffering, that nothing indeed can move him. Now, do 440but think what sport it will be to make this fellow, the mirror 441of patience, as angry, as vexed, and as mad as an English 442cuckold.

O, ʼtwere admirable mirth, that! But how willʼt be done, 444signor?

Let me alone; I have a trick, a conceit, a thing, a 446device will sting him, iʼfaith, if he have but a thimbleful of blood 447inʼs belly, or a spleen not so big as a tavern-token.

Thou stir him? Thou move him? Thou anger him? 449Alas, I know his approved temper. Thou vex him? Why, he 450has a patience above manʼs injuries. Thou mayst sooner raise a 451spleen in an angel than rough humour in him. Why, Iʼll give 452you instance for it. This wonderfully tempered Signor Candido 453upon a time invited home to his house certain Neapolitan 454lords of curious taste and no mean palates, conjuring his wife, 455of all loves, to prepare cheer fitting for such honourable 456trencher-men. She – just of a womanʼs nature, covetous to try the 457uttermost of vexation, and thinking at last to get the start of 458his humour – willingly neglected the preparation, and became 459unfurnished not only of dainty but of ordinary dishes. He, 460according to the mildness of his breast, entertained the lords 461and with courtly discourse beguiled the time, as much as a 462citizen might do. To conclude, they were hungry lords, for 463there came no meat in; their stomachs were plainly gulled 464and their teeth deluded, and, if anger could have seized a man, 465there was matter enough, iʼfaith, to vex any citizen in the 466world, if he were not too much made a fool by his wife.

Ay, Iʼll swear forʼt. ʼSfoot, had it been my case, I should 468haʼ played mad tricks with my wife and family. First, I would 469haʼ spitted the men, stewed the maids, and baked the mistress, 470and so served them in.

[To Castruccio] Why, ʼtwould haʼ tempted any blood but his;

1.4.15472And thou to vex him? Thou to anger him

1.4.16473With some poor shallow jest?

ʼSblood, Signor Pioratto, you that disparage my 475conceit, Iʼll wage a hundred ducats upon the head onʼt that it 476moves him, frets him, and galls him.

Done, ʼtis a lay. Join golls onʼt. – Witness, Signor Fluello.

Witness; ʼtis done. [They shake hands on it.]

1.4.20479Come, follow me. The house is not far off.

1.4.21480Iʼll thrust him from his humour, vex his breast,

1.4.22481And win a hundred ducats by one jest.

Come, you put up your wares in good order here, do 485you not, think you? One piece cast this way, another that way! 486You had need have a patient master, indeed.

[Aside] Ay, Iʼll be sworn, for we have a curst mistress.

You mumble? Do you mumble? I would your master 489or I could be a note more angry, for two patient folks in a 490house spoil all the servants that ever shall come under them.

[Aside] You patient! Ay, so is the devil when he is 492horn-mad.

Gentlemen, what do you lack? What isʼt you buy? 495See, fine hollands, fine cambrics, fine lawns.

What isʼt you lack?

What isʼt you buy?

Whereʼs Signor Candido, thy master?

Faith, signor, heʼs a little negotiated. Heʼll appear presently.

[To George] Fellow, letʼs see a lawn, a choice one, sirrah.

The best in all Milan, gentlemen, and [Showing it] this is the 502piece. I can fit you gentlemen with fine calicoes too, for 503doublets, the only sweet fashion now, most delicate and courtly, a 504meek, gentle calico, cut upon two double affable taffetas – ah, 505most neat, feat, and unmatchable!

[Aside to Pioratto] A notable, voluble-tongued villain.

[Aside to Fluello] I warrant this fellow was never begot without much 508prating.

[To George with his piece of lawn] What, and is this she, sayst thou?

Ay, and the purest she that ever you fingered since you 511were a gentleman. Look how even she is, look how clean she 512is – ha, as even as the brow of Cynthia, and as clean as your sons 513and heirs when they haʼ spent all.

Pooh, thou talkst – pox onʼt, ʼtis rough.

How? Is she rough? But if you bid pox onʼt sir, ʼtwill 516take away the roughness presently.

[To Castruccio] Ha, signor! Has he fitted your French curse?

[To Castruccio] Look you, gentleman, hereʼs another. [He displays another cloth.] Compare 519them, I pray: compara Virgilium cum Homero, compare virgins 520with harlots.

Pooh, I haʼ seen better, and, as you term them, evener 522and cleaner.

You may see further for your mind, but trust me, 524you shall not find better for your body.

[Aside to his companions] O, here he comes. Letʼs make as though we pass.

1.5.23526[Aloud] Come, come, weʼll try in some other shop.

How now? Whatʼs the matter?

The gentlemen find fault with this lawn, fall out 529with it, and without a cause too.

Without a cause?

1.5.27531And that makes you to let ʼem pass away? –

1.5.28532Ah, may I crave a word with you gentlemen?

[Aside to his companions] He calls us.

[Aside to Fluello] Makes the better for the jest.

I pray come near. Youʼre very welcome, gallants.

1.5.32536Pray pardon my manʼs rudeness, for I fear me

1.5.33537Hʼas talked above a prentice with you. [To a Prentice] Lawns!

1.5.34538[Showing the lawns] Look you, kind gentlemen. – This? No. – Ay, this;

1.5.35539Take this, upon my honest-dealing faith,

1.5.36540To be a true weave, not too hard, nor slack,

1.5.37541But eʼen as far from falsehood as from black.

Well, how do you rate it?

Very conscionable, eighteen shillings a yard.

Thatʼs too dear. How many yards does the whole 545piece contain, think you?

Why, some seventeen yards I think, or thereabouts. 547How much would serve your turn, I pray?

Why, let me see. [He examines the cloth.] Would it were better, too.

Truth, ʼtis the best in Milan, at few words.

Well, let me have, then – a whole pennyworth.

Ha, ha! Youʼre a merry gentleman.

A pennʼorth, I say.

Of lawn?

Of lawn? Ay, of lawn, a pennʼorth. ʼSblood, dost not 555hear? A whole pennʼorth. Are you deaf?

Deaf? No, sir, but I must tell you

1.5.50557Our wares do seldom meet such customers.

Nay, an you and your lawns be so squeamish, 559fare you well.

Pray stay, a word. Pray, signor,

1.5.53For what purpose 561is it, I beseech you?

ʼSblood, whatʼs that to you? Iʼll have a pennyworth.

A pennyworth? Why, you shall. Iʼll serve you presently.

[Aside to Viola] ʼSfoot, a pennyworth, mistress!

[To Candido] A pennyworth! Call you these gentlemen?

[To Candido, as he starts to cut the cloth] No, no, not there.

What then, kind gentleman? What, at this corner here?

No, nor there neither.

1.5.61569Iʼll have it just in the middle, or else not.

Just in the middle. Ha, you shall, too. What,

1.5.63571Have you a single penny?

Have you a single penny? [Producing a coin] Yes, hereʼs one.

Lend it me, I pray.

[Aside] An excellent-followed jest!

What, will he spoil the lawn now?

Patience, good wife.

Ay, that patience makes a fool of you. – Gentlemen, 577you might haʼ found some other citizen to have 578made a kind gull on besides my husband.

[As he proceeds to cut the cloth] Pray, gentlemen, take her to be a woman;

1.5.70580Do not regard her language. [To Viola] O kind soul,

1.5.71581Such words will drive away my customers.

‘Customersʼ with a murrain! Call you these customers?

Patience, good wife.

Pax oʼyour patience!

ʼSfoot, mistress, I warrant these are some cheating 585companions.

Look you, gentleman, thereʼs your ware. I thank 587you;

1.5.77I have your money.

I have your money. Here. Pray know my shop,

1.5.78Let me have your custom.

Let me have your custom. ‘Customʼ, quothʼa!

Let me take more of your money.

You had need so.

[Aside to Castruccio] Hark in thine ear: thʼast lost a hundred ducats.

[Aside in reply] Well, well, I knowʼt. Isʼt possible that homo

1.5.83593Should be nor man nor woman? Not once moved,

1.5.84594No, not at such an injury, not at all!

1.5.85595Sure heʼs a pigeon, for he has no gall.

[To Candido] Come, come, youʼre angry, though you smother it;

1.5.87597Youʼre vexed, iʼfaith – confess.

Youʼre vexed, iʼfaith – confess. Why, gentlemen,

1.5.88598Should you conceit me to be vexed or moved?

1.5.89599He has my ware, I have his money forʼt;

1.5.90600And thatʼs no argument I am angry. No,

1.5.91601The best logician cannot prove me so.

O, but the hateful name of a pennyworth of lawn,

1.5.93603And then cut out iʼthʼ middle of the piece!

1.5.94604Pah, I guess it by myself. ʼTwould move a lamb,

1.5.95605Were he a linen-draper; ʼtwould, iʼfaith.

Well, give me leave to answer you for that.

1.5.97607We are set here to please all customers,

1.5.98608Their humours and their fancies, offend none;

1.5.99609We get by many if we leese by one.

1.5.100610Maybe his mind stood to no more than that.

1.5.101611A pennʼorth serves him; and ʼmongst trades ʼtis found,

1.5.102612‘Deny a pennʼworth, it may cross a pound.ʼ

1.5.103613O, he that means to thrive with patient eye

1.5.104614Must please the devil if he come to buy.

O wondrous man, patient ʼbove wrong or woe!

1.5.106616How blest were men if women could be so.

And to express how well my breast is pleased

1.5.108618And satisfied in all, George, fill a beaker.

1.5.109619Iʼll drink unto that gentleman who lately

1.5.110620Bestowed his money with me.

Bestowed his money with me. Godʼs my life,

1.5.111621We shall have all our gains drunk out in beakers

1.5.112622To make amends for pennyworths of lawn!

1.5.113623Here, wife, begin you to the gentleman.

I begin to him?

I begin to him? George, fillʼt up again. –

1.5.115625ʼTwas my fault; my hand shook.

[Aside to his friends] How strangely this doth show:

1.5.117627A patient man linked with a waspish shrew!

[Aside] A silver-and-gilt beaker! I have a trick

1.5.119629To work upon that beaker. Sure ʼtwill fret him;

1.5.120630It cannot choose but vex him.

It cannot choose but vex him. [Aside to Castruccio] Signor Castruccio,

1.5.121631In pity to thee I have a conceit

1.5.122632Will save thy hundred ducats yet; ʼtwill doʼt,

1.5.123633And work him to impatience.

And work him to impatience. [Aside to Fluello] Sweet Fluello,

1.5.124634I should be bountiful to that conceit.

Well, ʼtis enough.

Well, ʼtis enough. 636Here, gentleman, to you.

1.5.126637I wish your custom; youʼre exceeding welcome.

I pledge you, Signor Candido. [He drinks to Candido.]

1.5.128Here, to you, that must 639receive a hundred ducats.

Iʼll pledge them deep, iʼfaith, Castruccio. [He drinks.]

1.5.130641Signor Fluello.

Signor Fluello. [To Pioratto] Come, playʼt off – to me;

1.5.131I am your last man.

I am your last man. George, supply the cup.

So, so, good honest George.

1.5.133645Here, Signor Candido;

Here, Signor Candido; all this to you.

O, you must pardon me. I use it not.

Will you not pledge me, then?

Will you not pledge me, then? Yes, but not that;

1.5.136649Great love is shown in little.

Great love is shown in little. Blurt on your sentences!

1.5.137ʼSfoot, you shall pledge 651me all.

ʼSfoot, you shall pledge me all. Indeed I shall not.

Not pledge me? ʼSblood, Iʼll carry away the beaker 654then.

The beaker? O, that at your pleasure, sir.

Now, by this drink, I will.

[To Candido] Pledge him; heʼll doʼt else.

So. I haʼ done you right, on my thumbnail.

1.5.143659What, will you pledge me now?

What, will you pledge me now? You know me, sir,

1.5.144I am not of that sin.

I am not of that sin. Why then, farewell.

1.5.145662Iʼll bear away the beaker, by this light.

Thatʼs as you please; ʼtis very good.

Nay, it doth please me, and as you say ʼtis a very good one.

1.5.148665Farewell, Signor Candido.

Farewell, Candido.

Youʼre welcome, gentlemen.

Youʼre welcome, gentlemen. [Aside] Heart, not moved yet?

1.5.151669[Aside to Fluello] I think his patience is above your wit.

I told you before, mistress, they were all cheaters.

Why, fool; why, husband; why, madman! I hope 672you will not let ʼem sneak away so, with a silver-and-gilt 673beaker, the best in the house, too. – Go, fellows, make hue and 674cry after them.

Pray let your tongue lie still; all will be well. –

1.5.155676Come hither, George. Hie to the constable,

1.5.156677And in calm order wish him to attach them.

1.5.157678Make no great stir, because theyʼre gentlemen;

1.5.158679And a thing partly done in merriment,

1.5.159680ʼTis but a size above a jest, thou knowst.

1.5.160681Therefore pursue it mildly. Go, begone.

1.5.161682The constableʼs hard by, bring him along.

1.5.162Make haste again.

O, youʼre a goodly patient woodcock, are you not 684now? 685See what your patience comes to: everyone saddles you and 686rides you, youʼll be shortly the common stone-horse of 687Milan. A womanʼs well holped up with such a meacock; I 688had rather have a husband that would swaddle me thrice a 689day than such a one, that will be gulled twice in half an 690hour. O, I could burn all the wares in my shop for anger!

Pray wear a peaceful temper, be my wife –

1.5.165692That is, be patient; for a wife and husband

1.5.166693Share but one soul between them. This being known,

1.5.167694Why should not one soul then agree in one?

Hang your agreements! But if my beaker be gone –

O, here they come.

The constable, sir, let ʼem come along with me, 699because there should be no wondering. He stays at door.

Constable, Goodman Abram?

Now, Signor Candido, ʼsblood, why do you attach us?

ʼSheart! Attach us!

ʼSheart! Attach us! Nay, swear not, gallants.

1.5.174704Your oaths may move your souls, but not move me;

1.5.175705You have a silver beaker of my wifeʼs.

You say not true, ʼtis gilt.

You say not true, ʼtis gilt. Then you say true.

1.5.177708And being gilt, the guilt lies more on you.

I hope youʼre not angry, sir.

I hope youʼre not angry, sir. Then you hope right,

1.5.179For I am not angry.

For I am not angry. No, but a little moved.

I moved? ʼTwas you were moved; you were brought hither.

But you, out of your anger and impatience,

1.5.182714Caused us to be attached.

Caused us to be attached. Nay, you misplace it.

1.5.183716Out of my quiet sufferance I did that,

1.5.184717And not of any wrath. Had I shown anger,

1.5.185718I should have then pursued you with the law,

1.5.186719And hunted you to shame, as many worldlings

1.5.187720Do build their anger upon feebler grounds –

1.5.188721The moreʼs the pity. Many lose their lives

1.5.189722For scarce so much coin as will hide their palm,

1.5.190723Which is most cruel. Those have vexèd spirits

1.5.191724That pursue lives. In this opinion rest:

1.5.192725The loss of millions could not move my breast.

Thou art a blest man, and with peace dost deal;

1.5.194727Such a meek spirit can bless a commonweal.

Gentlemen, now ʼtis upon eating-time,

1.5.196729Pray part not hence, but dine with me today.

I never heard a courtier yet say nay

1.5.198731To such a motion. Iʼll not be the first.

Nor I.

Nor I.

The constable shall bear you company.

1.5.202735George, call him in. Let the world say what it can,

1.5.203736Nothing can drive me from a patient man.

Anon, forsooth.

[Within] What are you playing the rogue about?

About you, forsooth; Iʼm drawing up a hole in your 747white silk stocking.

Is my glass there? And my boxes of complexion?

Yes, forsooth. Your boxes of complexion are 750here, I think. Yes, ʼtis here; hereʼs your two 751complexions. [Aside] An if I had all the four complexions, I should 752neʼer set a good face uponʼt. Some men, I see, are born 753under hard-favoured planets as well as women. Zounds, I look 754worse now than I did before; and it makes her face glister most 755damnably. Thereʼs knavery in daubing, I hold my life; or else 756this is only female pomatum.

Whereʼs my ruff and poker, you blockhead?

Your ruff and your poker are engendering together 761upon the cupboard of the court, or the court-cupboard.

Fetch ʼem! Is the pox in your hams, you can go 763no faster?

Would the pox were in your fingers, unless you could 765leave flinging. Catch!

Iʼll catch you, you dog, by and by. Do you grumble?

Thereʼs your ruff. Shall I poke it?

Yes, honest Roger – no, stay. Prithee, good boy, hold here.

2.1.17771Down, down, down, down; I fall down, and arise I never 772shall.

Troth, mistress, then leave the trade, if you shall never rise.

What trade, Goodman Abram?

Why, that of down and arise, or the falling trade.

Iʼll fall with you, by and by.

If you do, I know who shall smart forʼt. 778Troth, mistress, what do I look like now?

Like as you are: a panderly sixpenny rascal.

I may thank you for that. No, faith, I look like an old 781proverb, ‘Hold the candle before the devil.ʼ

Udʼs life, Iʼll stick my knife in your guts an you 783prate to me so! – What?

2.1.30788Pox on you, how dost thou hold my glass?

Why, as I hold your door: with my fingers.

Nay, prithee, sweet honey Roger, hold up handsomely. 791(Sings ‘Pretty wantons, warbleʼ, etc.) We shall haʼ guests today, 792I lay my little maidenhead, my nose itches so.

I said so too, last night, when our fleas twinged me.

[Completing her make-up] So. Poke my ruff now. My gown, my gown! Have I my fall? 795Whereʼs my fall, Roger?

Your fall, forsooth, is behind.

Godʼs my pitikins! Some fool or other knocks.

Shall I open to the fool, mistress?

And all these baubles lying thus? Away with it 800quickly!

2.1.39– Ay, ay, knock and be damned, whosoever you be. – So. Give the 801fresh salmon line now; let him come ashore. He shall 802serve for my breakfast, though he go against my stomach.

[To Bellafront] Morrow, coz.

How does my sweet acquaintance?

Save thee, little marmoset. How dost thou, good 807pretty rogue?

Well, God-a-mercy, good pretty rascal.

[Producing tobacco] Roger, some light, I prithee.

You shall, signor; for we that live here in this vale 811of misery are as dark as hell.

Good tobacco, Fluello?

Smell.

It may be tickling gear, for it plays with my nose already.

[To Fluello] Hereʼs another light angel, signor.

What, you pied curtal? Whatʼs that you are neighing?

I say, ‘God send us the light of heaven, or some more 818angelsʼ.

Go fetch some wine; [Aside, to him]and drink half of it.

I must fetch some wine, gentlemen, [Aside to her] and drink half of it.

[Offering him money] Here, Roger.

No, let me send, prithee.

[To Roger] Hold, you cankerworm.

You shall send both, if you please, signors. [Castruccio gives him money.]

Stay, whatʼs best to drink a-mornings?

Hippocras, sir, for my mistress, if I fetch it, is most dear to her.

Hippocras? [Giving Roger more money] There, then; hereʼs a teston for you, you snake.

Right, sir; hereʼs three shillings sixpence for a pottle and a manchet.

[Smoking] Hereʼs most Herculean tobacco. [Offering the pipe to Bellafront] Haʼ some, acquaintance?

Faugh, not I – makes your breath stink like the piss of a 831fox. Acquaintance, where supped you last night?

At a place, sweet acquaintance, where your health 833danced the canaries, iʼfaith; you should haʼ been there.

I there, among your punks? Marry faugh, hang ʼem! 835Scornʼt. Will you never leave sucking of eggs in other folksʼ 836hensʼ nests?

Why, in good troth, if youʼll trust me, acquaintance, 838there was not one hen at the board. Ask Fluello.

No, faith, coz, none but cocks. Signor Malavolta 840drunk to thee.

O, a pure beagle! That horseleech there?

And the knight, Sir Oliver Lollio, swore he would bestow 842a taffeta petticoat on thee, but to break his fast with thee.

With me? Iʼll choke him then. Hang him, 844mole-catcher! Itʼs the dreamingest snotty-nose.

Well, many took that Lollio for a fool; but heʼs a 846subtle fool.

Ay, and he has fellows; of all filthy, 847dry-fisted knights, I cannot abide that he should touch me.

Why, wench, is he scabbed?

Hang him! Heʼll not live to be so honest, nor to the 850credit to have scabs about him; his betters have ʼem. But 851I hate to wear out any of his coarse knighthood, because 852heʼs made like an aldermanʼs nightgown, faced all with 853cony before, and within nothing but fox. This sweet 854Oliver will eat mutton till he be ready to burst, but the 855lean-jawed slave will not pay for the scraping of his trencher.

Plague him; set him beneath the salt, and let him not 857touch a bit till everyone has had his full cut.

Sordello, the gentleman-usher, came in to us too. 859Marry, ʼtwas in our cheese, for he had been to borrow money 860for his lord, of a citizen.

What an ass is that lord, to borrow money of a 862citizen!

Nay, Godʼs my pity, what an ass is that citizen to 864lend money to a lord!

Save you, gallants. Signor Fluello, exceedingly 869well met, as I may say.

Signor Mattheo, exceedingly well met too, as I may 871say.

And how fares my little pretty mistress?

Eʼen as my little pretty servant; sees three court 874dishes before her, and not one good bit in them. [To Roger] How now? 875Why the devil standst thou so? Art in a trance?

Yes, forsooth.

Why dost not fill out their wine?

Forsooth, ʼtis filled out already: all the wine that the 878signors has bestowed upon you is cast away. A porter ran a 879tilt at me, and so faced me down that I had not a drop.

Iʼm accurst to let such a withered artichoke-faced 881rascal grow under my nose! Now you look like an old 882he-cat, going to the gallows. Iʼll be hanged if he haʼ not put up 883the money to cony-catch us all.

No, truly, forsooth, ʼtis not put up [Aside to her] yet.

How many gentlemen hast thou served thus?

None [Aside] but five hundred, besides prentices and servingmen.

Dost think Iʼll pocket it up at thy hands?

Yes, forsooth, [Aside to her] I fear you will pocket it up.

[To Mattheo] Fie, fie, cut my lace, good servant; I shall haʼ the 890mother presently, Iʼm so vexed at this horse-plum!

Plague, not for a scald pottle of wine!

Nay, sweet Bellafront, for a little pigʼs wash!

Here, Roger, fetch more. [He gives him more money.] – A mischance, iʼfaith, 894acquaintance.

[To Roger] Out of my sight, thou ungodly puritanical creature!

For the tother pottle? Yes, forsooth.

[Aside to him] Spill that too!

2.1.99[Observing Hippolito] What gentleman is that, servant? Your 898friend?

Godso! A stool, a stool! If you love me, mistress, 900entertain this gentleman respectively, and bid him welcome.

Heʼs very welcome. [To Hippolito] Pray, sir, sit.

Thanks, lady.

[Moving towards him] Count Hippolito, isʼt not? Cry you mercy, signor; you 904walk here all this while, and we not heed you? Let me 905bestow a stool upon you, beseech you. You are a stranger here; 906we know the fashions oʼthʼ house.

Please you be here, my lord. [He offers Hippolito] tobacco.

[Declining the offer] No, good Castruccio.

You have abandoned the court, I see, my lord, since 910the death of your mistress. Well, she was a delicate piece – [Aside to Bellafront] 911Beseech you, sweet, come, let us serve under the colours of your 912acquaintance still, for all that. [Aloud to Hippolito] Please you to meet here at the 913lodging of my coz; I shall bestow a banquet upon you.

[To Fluello] I never can deserve this kindness, sir.

2.1.108915What may this lady be, whom you call coz?

Faith, sir, a poor gentlewoman, of passing good 917carriage; one that has some suits in law, and lies here in an 918attorneyʼs house.

Is she married?

Ha, as all your punks are, a captainʼs wife or so. 921Never saw her before, my lord?

Never, trust me. A goodly creature.

By gad, when you know her as we do, youʼll swear she is 924the prettiest, kindest, sweetest, most bewitching honest ape 925under the pole. A skin – your satin is not more soft, nor 926lawn whiter.

Belike, then, sheʼs some sale courtesan.

Troth, as all your best faces are; a good wench.

Great pity that sheʼs a good wench. [They whisper.]

[Aloud to Bellafront] Thou shalt have it iʼfaith, mistress. – How now, signors? 931What? Whispering? [Talking apart to Hippolito] Did not I lay a wager I should take you 932within seven days in a house of vanity?

You did, and, I beshrew your heart, you have won.

How do you like my mistress?

Well, for such a mistress. Better, if your mistress 936be not your master. [Aloud] 937I must break manners, gentlemen; fare you well.

ʼSfoot, you shall not leave us.

The gentleman likes not the taste of our company.

Beseech you, stay.

Trust me, my affairs beckon for me. Pardon me.

Will you call for me half an hour hence here?

Perhaps I shall.

Perhaps? Faugh! I know you can; swear to me you will.

Since you will press me, on my word I will.

What sullen picture is this, servant?

Itʼs Count Hippolito, the brave count.

As gallant a spirit as any in Milan, you sweet Jew.

O, heʼs a most essential gentleman, coz.

Did you never hear of Count Hippolito, 951acquaintance?

Marry-muff oʼyour counts, an be no more life in ʼem.

Heʼs so malcontent! Sirrah Bellafront – [To the others] An you be 954honest gallants, letʼs sup together, and have the count dine with us. [To her] 955Thou shalt sit at the upper end, punk.

‘Punkʼ, you soused gurnet?

Kingʼs truce! Come, Iʼll bestow the supper to have 958him but laugh.

He betrays his youth too grossly to that tyrant, melancholy.

All this is for a woman.

A woman? Some whore! What sweet jewel isʼt?

Would she heard you.

Troth, so would I.

And I, by heaven.

Nay, good servant, what woman?

Pah!

Prithee, tell me; a buss, and tell me! I warrant heʼs 966an honest fellow, if he take on thus for a wench. Good 967rogue, who?

By thʼLord, I will not, must not, faith, mistress. – Isʼt a 969match, sirs? This night, at thʼAntelope; for thereʼs best wine, and good boys.

Itʼs done; at thʼAntelope.

I cannot be there tonight.

‘Cannotʼ? By thʼLord, you shall.

By the Lady, I will not. ‘Shallʼ!

Why then, put it off till Friday. Wuʼt come then, coz?

Well –

Youʼre the waspishest ape. – Roger, put your mistress in 977mind, your scurvy mistress here, to sup with us on Friday 978next. [To her] Youʼre best come like a madwoman, without a band, in 979your waistcoat, and the linings of your kirtle outward, like 980every common hackney that steals out at the back gate of her 981sweet knightʼs lodging.

Go, go, hang yourself!

Itʼs dinner-time, Mattheo; shallʼs hence?

Yes, yes. – Farewell, wench.

Farewell, boys.

Roger, what wine sent they for?

Bastard wine; for if it had been truly begotten, it would 986not haʼ been ashamed to come in. Hereʼs six shillings, to pay for nursing 987the bastard.

A company of rooks! O good sweet Roger, run to 989the poulterʼs and buy me some fine larks.

No woodcocks?

Yes, faith, a couple, if they be not dear.

Iʼll buy but one: thereʼs one already here.

Is the gentleman my friend departed, mistress?

His back is but new turned, sir.

His back is but new turned, sir. [Going] Fare you well.

I can direct you to him.

I can direct you to him. Can you, pray?

If you please, stay; heʼll not be absent long.

I care not much.

I care not much. Pray sit, forsooth.

I care not much. Pray sit, forsooth. [Putting down his rapier] Iʼm hot;

2.1.1701001If I may use your room, Iʼll rather walk.

At your best pleasure. Whew!

At your best pleasure. Whew! [Offering towels] Some rubbers, there.

Indeed, Iʼll none – indeed, I will not. Thanks.

2.1.1731004Pretty fine lodging. I perceive my friend

2.1.1741005Is old in your acquaintance.

Is old in your acquaintance. Troth, sir, he comes

2.1.1751006As other gentlemen, to spend spare hours.

2.1.1761007If yourself like our roof, such as it is,

2.1.1771008Your own acquaintance may be as old as his.

Say I did like, what welcome should I find?

Such as my present fortunes can afford.

But would you let me play Mattheoʼs part?

What part?

What part? Why, embrace you, dally with you, kiss.

2.1.1821014Faith, tell me: will you leave him, and love me?

I am in bonds to no man, sir.

I am in bonds to no man, sir. Why then,

2.1.1841016Youʼre free for any man; if any, me.

2.1.1851017But I must tell you, lady, were you mine,

2.1.1861018You should be all mine. I could brook no sharers;

2.1.1871019I should be covetous, and sweep up all.

2.1.1881020I should be pleasureʼs usurer; faith, I should.

O fate!

O fate! Why sigh you, lady? May I know?

ʼT has never been my fortune yet to single

2.1.1911024Out that one man whose love could fellow mine,

2.1.1921025As I have ever wished it. O my stars!

2.1.1931026Had I but met with one kind gentleman

2.1.1941027That would have purchased sin alone, to himself,

2.1.1951028For his own private use, although scarce proper

2.1.1961029(Indifferent handsome, meetly legged and thighed),

2.1.1971030And my allowance reasonable (iʼfaith,

2.1.1981031According to my body), by my troth

2.1.1991032I would have been as true unto his pleasures

2.1.2001033Yea, and as loyal to his afternoons,

2.1.2011034As ever a poor gentlewoman could be.

This were well now to one but newly fledged

2.1.2031036And scarce a day old in this subtle world;

2.1.2041037ʼTwere pretty art, good bird-lime, cunning net.

2.1.2051038But come, come, faith, confess: how many men

2.1.2061039Have drunk this self-same protestation

2.1.2071040From that red ʼticing lip?

From that red ʼticing lip? Indeed, not any.

‘Indeedʼ? And blush not?

‘Indeedʼ? And blush not? No, in truth, not any.

‘Indeedʼ! ‘In truthʼ! How warily you swear!

2.1.2101045ʼTis well, if ill it be not. Yet had I

2.1.2111046The ruffian in me, and were drawn before you

2.1.2121047But in light colours, I do know indeed

2.1.2131048You would not swear ‘indeedʼ, but thunder oaths

2.1.2141049That should shake heaven, drown the harmonious spheres,

2.1.2151050And pierce a soul that loved her makerʼs honour

2.1.2161051With horror and amazement.

With horror and amazement. Shall I swear?

2.1.2171053Will you believe me then?

Will you believe me then? Worst then of all;

2.1.2181055Our sins by custom seem at last but small.

2.1.2191056Were I but oʼer your threshold, a next man,

2.1.2201057And after him a next, and then a fourth,

2.1.2211058Should have this golden hook and lascivious bait

2.1.2221059Thrown out to the full length. Why, let me tell you

2.1.2231060I haʼ seen letters, sent from that white hand,

2.1.2241061Tuning such music to Mattheoʼs ear.

Mattheo! Thatʼs true. But if youʼll believe

2.1.2261063My honest tongue, my eyes no sooner met you

2.1.2271064But they conceived and led you to my heart.

O, you cannot feign with me! Why, I know, lady,

2.1.2291066This is the common fashion of you all,

2.1.2301067To hook in a kind gentleman, and then

2.1.2311068Abuse his coin, conveying it to your lover;

2.1.2321069And in the end you show him a French trick,

2.1.2331070And so you leave him that a coach may run

2.1.2341071Between his legs for breadth.

Between his legs for breadth. O, by my soul,

2.1.2351073Not I! Therein Iʼll prove an honest whore –

2.1.2361074In being true to one and to no more.

If any be disposed to trust your oath,

2.1.2381076Let him; Iʼll not be he. I know you feign

2.1.2391077All that you speak, I; for a mingled harlot

2.1.2401078Is true in nothing but in being false.

2.1.2411079What, shall I teach you how to loathe yourself?

2.1.2421080And mildly too, not without sense or reason?

I am content; I would fain loathe myself

2.1.2441082If you not love me.

If you not love me. Then if your gracious blood

2.1.245Be not all wasted, 1084I shall assay to doʼt.

2.1.2461085Lend me your silence and attention.

2.1.247You have no soul; 1086that makes you weigh so light.

2.1.248Heavenʼs treasure bought it,

2.1.2491087And half a crown hath sold it. For your body,

2.1.2501088Itʼs like the common shore, that still receives

2.1.2511089All the townʼs filth. The sin of many men

2.1.2521090Is within you; and thus much I suppose,

2.1.2531091That, if all your committers stood in rank,

2.1.2541092Theyʼd make a lane, in which your shame might dwell,

2.1.2551093And with their spaces reach from hence to hell.

2.1.2561094Nay, shall I urge it more? There has been known

2.1.2571095As many by one harlot maimed and dismembered

2.1.2581096As would haʼ stuffed an hospital. This I might

2.1.2591097Apply to you, and perhaps do you right.

2.1.2601098O, youʼre as base as any beast that bears;

2.1.2611099Your body is eʼen hired, and so are theirs.

2.1.2621100For gold and sparkling jewels, if he can,

2.1.2631101Youʼll let a Jew get you with Christian.

2.1.2641102Be he a Moor, a Tartar, though his face

2.1.2651103Look uglier than a dead manʼs skull,

2.1.2661104Could the devil put on a human shape,

2.1.2671105If his purse shake out crowns, up then he gets;

2.1.2681106Whores will be rid to hell with golden bits.

2.1.2691107So that youʼre crueller than Turks, for they

2.1.2701108Sell Christians only; you sell yourselves away.

2.1.2711109Why, those that love you, hate you, and will term you

2.1.2721110Lickerish damnation, wish themselves half sunk

2.1.2731111After the sin is laid out, and eʼen curse

2.1.2741112Their fruitless riot. For what one begets,

2.1.2751113Another poisons. Lust and murder hit;

2.1.2761114A tree being often shook, what fruit can knit?

O me unhappy!

O me unhappy! I can vex you more.

2.1.2781117A harlot is like Dunkirk, true to none;

2.1.2791118Swallows both English, Spanish, fulsome Dutch,

2.1.2801119Back-doored Italian, last of all the French.

2.1.2811120And he sticks to you, faith; gives you your diet,

2.1.2821121Brings you acquainted, first with Monsieur Doctor,

2.1.2831122And then you know what follows.

And then you know what follows. Misery.

2.1.2841124Rank, stinking, and most loathsome misery.

Methinks a toad is happier than a whore:

2.1.2861126That with one poison swells, with thousands more

2.1.2871127The other stocks her veins. Harlot? Fie, fie!

2.1.2881128You are the miserablest creatures breathing.

2.1.2891129The very slaves of nature. Mark me else:

2.1.2901130You put on rich attires, othersʼ eyes wear them;

2.1.2911131You eat but to supply your blood with sin.

2.1.2921132And this strange curse eʼen haunts you to your graves:

2.1.2931133From fools you get, and spend it upon slaves.

2.1.2941134Like bears and apes, youʼre baited and show tricks

2.1.2951135For money, but your bawd the sweetness licks.

2.1.2961136Indeed, you are their journey-women, and do

2.1.2971137All base and damned works they list set you to,

2.1.2981138So that you neʼer are rich. For do but show me,

2.1.2991139In present memory or in ages past,

2.1.3001140The fairest and most famous courtesan –

2.1.3011141Whose flesh was dearʼst, that raised the price of sin,

2.1.3021142And held it up; to whose intemperate bosom

2.1.3031143Princes, earls, lords (the worst has been a knight,

2.1.3041144The meanʼst a gentleman) have offered up

2.1.3051145Whole hecatombs of sighs, and rained in showʼrs

2.1.3061146Handfuls of gold – yet, for all this, at last

2.1.3071147Diseases sucked her marrow; then grew so poor

2.1.3081148That she has begged, eʼen at a beggarʼs door.

2.1.3091149And – wherein heavʼn has a finger – when this idol

2.1.3101150From coast to coast has lept on foreign shores,

2.1.3111151And had more worship than thʼoutlandish whores;

2.1.3121152When several nations have gone over her;

2.1.3131153When for each several city she has seen

2.1.3141154Her maidenhead has been new, and been sold dear;

2.1.3151155Did live well there, and might have died unknown

2.1.3161156And undefamed – back comes she to her own,

2.1.3171157And there both miserably lives and dies,

2.1.3181158Scorned even of those that once adored her eyes,

2.1.3191159As if her fatal-circled life thus ran

2.1.3201160Her pride should end there where it first began.

2.1.3211161What, do you weep to hear your story read?

2.1.3221162Nay, if you spoil your cheeks, Iʼll read no more.

[Weeping] O yes, I pray, proceed.

2.1.3241164Indeed, ʼtwill do me good to weep, indeed.

To give those tears a relish, this I add:

2.1.3261166Youʼre like the Jews, scattered, in no place certain.

2.1.3271167Your days are tedious, your hours burdensome;

2.1.3281168And wereʼt not for full suppers, midnight revels,

2.1.3291169Dancing, wine, riotous meetings, which do drown

2.1.3301170And bury quite in you all virtuous thoughts,

2.1.3311171And on your eyelids hang so heavily

2.1.3321172They have no power to look so high as heaven,

2.1.3331173Youʼd sit and muse on nothing but despair,

2.1.3341174Curse that devil Lust, that so burns up your blood,

2.1.3351175And in ten thousand shivers break your glass

2.1.3361176For his temptation. Say you taste delight

2.1.3371177To have a golden gull from rise to set,

2.1.3381178To mete you in his hot luxurious arms,

2.1.3391179Yet your nights pay for all: I know you dream

2.1.3401180Of warrants, whips, and beadles, and then start

2.1.3411181At a doorʼs windy creak, think every weasel

2.1.3421182To be a constable and every rat

2.1.3431183A long-tailed officer. Are you now not slaves?

2.1.3441184O, you have damnation without pleasure for it!

2.1.3451185Such is the state of harlots. To conclude,

2.1.3461186When you are old and can well paint no more,

2.1.3471187You turn bawd, and are then worse than before.

2.1.3481188Make use of this. Farewell.

Make use of this. Farewell. O, I pray, stay!

I see Mattheo comes not. Time hath barred me.

2.1.3501191Would all the harlots in the town had heard me.

[Calling after him] Stay yet a little longer! No? Quite gone!

2.1.3521193Curst be that minute – for it was no more,

2.1.3531194So soon a maid is changed into a whore –

2.1.3541195Wherein I first fell; be it for ever black!

2.1.3551196Yet why should sweet Hippolito shun mine eyes,

2.1.3561197For whose true love I would become pure-honest,

2.1.3571198Hate the worldʼs mixtures and the smiles of gold?

2.1.3581199Am I not fair? Why should he fly me, then?

2.1.3591200Fair creatures are desired, not scorned of men.

2.1.3601201How many gallants have drunk healths to me

2.1.3611202Out of their daggered arms, and thought them blest

2.1.3621203Enjoying but mine eyes at prodigal feasts?

2.1.3631204And does Hippolito detest my love?

2.1.3641205O, sure their heedless lusts but flattered me;

2.1.3651206I am not pleasing, beautiful, nor young.

2.1.3661207Hippolito has spied some ugly blemish,

2.1.3671208Eclipsing all my beauties. I am foul.

2.1.3681209Harlot! Ay, thatʼs the spot that taints thy soul.

2.1.3691210[Finding Hippolitoʼs rapier] His weapon left here? O, fit instrument

2.1.3701211To let forth all the poison of my flesh!

2.1.3711212Thy master hates me ʼcause my blood hath ranged;

2.1.3721213But when ʼtis forth, then heʼll believe Iʼm changed.

Mad woman, what art doing?

Mad woman, what art doing? Either love me,

2.1.3741216Or cleave my bosom on thy rapierʼs point.

2.1.3751217Yet do not neither, for thou then destroyst

2.1.3761218That which I love thee for – thy virtues. Here, here!

2.1.3771219Thouʼrt crueller, and killst me with disdain;

2.1.3781220To die so sheds no blood, yet ʼtis worse pain.

Not speak to me! Not look! Not bid farewell!

2.1.3801222Hated! This must not be; some means Iʼll try.

2.1.3811223Would all whores were as honest now as I.

See, gentlemen, what you lack; a fine holland, 1228a fine cambric. See what you buy.

Holland for shirts, cambric for bands; what isʼt you lack?

[Aside] ʼSfoot, I lack ʼem all; nay more, I lack money to buy 1231ʼem. Let me see, let me look again. Mass, this is the shop! [To Viola] 1232What, coz! Sweet coz! How dost, iʼfaith, since last night 1233after candlelight? We had good sport, iʼfaith, had we not? 1234And when shallʼs laugh again?

When you will, cousin.

Spoke like a kind Lacedemonian. I see yonderʼs thy husband.

Ay, thereʼs the sweet youth, God bless him.

And how isʼt, cousin? And how, how isʼt, thou squall?

Well, cousin. How fare you?

How fare I? Troth, for sixpence a meal, wench, as 1241well as heart can wish, with calvesʼ chawdrons and 1242chitterlings; besides, I have a punk after supper, as good as a roasted apple.

[Approaching] Are you my wifeʼs cousin?

I am, sir. What hast thou to do with that?

O, nothing; but youʼre welcome.

The devilʼs dung in thy teeth! Iʼll be welcome 1247whether thou wilt or no, I. [To Viola] What ringʼs this, coz? Very pretty 1248and fantastical, iʼfaith. Letʼs see it.

Pooh! Nay, you wrench my finger.

I haʼ sworn Iʼll haʼt, and I hope you will not let my 1251oaths be cracked in the ring, will you? [He grabs the ring. To Candido] I hope, sir, you are not 1252mallicolly at this, for all your great looks. Are you angry?

Angry? Not I, sir; nay, if she can part

3.1.171254So easily with her ring, ʼtis with my heart.

[To Candido] Suffer this, sir, and suffer all. A whoreson gull, to –

Peace, George. When she has reaped what I have sown,

3.1.201257Sheʼll say one grain tastes better of her own

3.1.211258Than whole sheaves gathered from anotherʼs land;

3.1.221259Witʼs never good till bought at a dear hand.

But in the meantime she makes an ass of somebody.

See, see, see, sir; as you turn your back, they 1262do nothing but kiss.

No matter, let ʼem. When I touch her lips,

3.1.251264I shall not feel his kisses, no, nor miss

3.1.261265Any of her lips; no harm in kissing is.

3.1.271266Look to your business; pray make up your wares.

[To Viola] Troth, coz, and well remembered. [To Candido] I would thou 1268wouldst give me five yards of lawn, to make my punk 1269some falling bands oʼthe fashion, three falling one upon 1270another ; for thatʼs the new edition now. Sheʼs out of linen 1271horribly, too. Troth, shʼas never a good smock to her back 1272neither but one that has a great many patches inʼt, and that Iʼm 1273fain to wear myself for want of shift, too. Prithee, put me 1274into wholesome napery, and bestow some clean commodities 1275upon us.

[To George and the Prentices] Reach me those cambrics and the lawns 1276hither.

What to do, wife? To lavish out my goods 1277upon a fool?

Fool? ʼSnails, eat the ‘foolʼ, or Iʼll so batter your 1279crown that it shall scarce go for five shillings.

[To Candido] Do you hear, sir? Youʼre best be quiet, and say a fool tells you so.

Nails, I think so – [To 2 Prentice] for thou tellst me.

Are you angry, sir, because I named thee fool?

3.1.351283Trust me, you are not wise, in mine own house

3.1.361284And to my face to play the antic thus.

3.1.371285If youʼll needs play the madman, choose a stage

3.1.381286Of lesser compass, where few eyes may note

3.1.391287Your actionʼs error. But if still you miss,

3.1.401288As here you do, for one clap ten will hiss.

[To Viola] Zounds, cousin, he talks to me as if I were a 1290scurvy tragedian.

Sirrah George, I haʼ thought upon a device how to 1292break his pate, beat him soundly, and ship him away.

Doʼt.

Iʼll go in, pass through the house, 1294give some of our fellow prentices the watchword when 1295they shall enter, then come and fetch my master in by a 1296while, and place one in the hall to hold him in conference, 1297whilst we cudgel the gull out of his coxcomb.

Doʼt. Away, doʼt.

[To them] Must I call twice for these cambrics and lawns?

Nay, see, you anger her, George; prithee, despatch.

Two of the choicest pieces are in the warehouse, sir.

Go fetch them presently.

Ay, do, make haste, sirrah.

[To Fustigo] Why were you such a stranger all this while, 1305being my wifeʼs cousin?

Stranger? No, sir, Iʼm a natural Milaner born.

I perceive still it is your natural guise to mistake 1308me. But you are welcome, sir; I much wish your acquaintance.

My acquaintance? I scorn that, iʼfaith. I hope my 1310acquaintance goes in chains of gold three-and-fifty times 1311double. – You know who I mean, coz; the posts of his gate 1312are a-painting, too.

[To Candido] Signor Pandulfo the merchant desires conference 1314with you.

Signor Pandulfo? Iʼll be with him straight.

3.1.571315Attend your mistress and the gentleman.

[To 2 Prentice] When do you show those pieces?

Ay, when do you show those pieces?

Presently, sir, presently; we are but charging them.

[To George] Come, sirrah, you flat-cap; where be these whites?

Flat-cap? [Aside to Fustigo] Hark in your ear, sir: youʼre a flat fool, an 1320ass, a gull, and Iʼll thrum you. Do you see this cambric, sir?

[To Viola] ʼSfoot, coz, a good jest! Did you hear him? He told 1322me in my ear I was ‘a flat fool, an ass, a gull, and Iʼll 1323thrum you. Do you see this cambric, sir?ʼ

[At some distance] What, not my men, I hope?

No, not your men, but one of your men, iʼfaith.

I pray, sir, come hither. [Indicating a piece of cambric] What say you to this? Hereʼs 1327an excellent good one.

Ay, marry, this likes me well; cut me off some half-score yards.

[Aside to him] Let your whores cut. Youʼre an impudent coxcomb; 1330you get none, and yet Iʼll thrum you. [Aloud] A very good 1331cambric, sir.

Again, again, as God judge me! ʼSfoot, coz, they 1333stand thrumming here with me all day, and yet I get nothing.

A word, I pray, sir. You must not be angry. Prentices 1335have hot bloods – young fellows. What say you to this 1336piece? Look you, ʼtis so delicate, so soft, so even, so fine a 1337thread that a lady may wear it.

ʼSfoot, I think so. If a knight marry my punk, a 1339lady shall wear it. Cut me off twenty yards, thouʼrt an honest lad.

[Aside to him] Not without money, gull, and Iʼll thrum you too.

[Aside to him] Gull, weʼll thrum you.

O Lord, sister, did you not hear something cry 1343‘thumpʼ? Zounds, your men here make a plain ass of me.

What, to my face so impudent?

Ay, in a cause so honest; weʼll not suffer

3.1.761346Our masterʼs goods to vanish moneyless.

Youʼll not suffer them?

Youʼll not suffer them? No, and you may blush

3.1.781349In going about to vex so mild a breast

3.1.791350As is our masterʼs.

As is our masterʼs. [To Fustigo] Take away those pieces,

3.1.801351Cousin; I give them freely.

[Taking the pieces] Mass, and Iʼll take ʼem as freely.

Weʼll make you lay ʼem down again more freely.

Help, help! My brother will be murderèd.

How now, what coil is here? Forbear, I say.

He calls us flat-caps, and abuses us.

Why, sirs? Do such examples flow from me?

They are of your keeping, sir. – Alas, poor brother.

Iʼfaith, they haʼ peppered me, sister. Look, doesʼt not 1360spin? Call you these prentices? Iʼll neʼer play at cards more 1361when clubs is trump. I have a goodly coxcomb, sister, have I not?

‘Sisterʼ and ‘brotherʼ? Brother to my wife?

If you have any skill in heraldry, you may soon 1364know that. Break but her pate, and you shall see her blood 1365and mine is all one.

[To 1 Prentice] A surgeon! Run; a surgeon!

[To Fustigo] Why, then, wore you 1367that forged name of cousin?

Because itʼs a common thing to call coz and 1369ningle nowadays, all the world over.

‘Cousinʼ! A name of much deceit, folly, and sin,

3.1.951371For under that common abusèd word

3.1.961372Many an honest-tempered citizen

3.1.971373Is made a monster, and his wife trained out

3.1.981374To foul adulterous action, full of fraud.

3.1.991375I may well call that word a cityʼs bawd.

Troth, brother, my sister would needs haʼ made me take 1377upon me to gull your patience a little; but it has made 1378double gules on my coxcomb.

[To Fustigo] What, playing the woman? Blabbing now, you fool?

O, my wife did but exercise a jest upon your wit.

ʼSfoot, my wit bleeds forʼt, methinks.

Then let this warning more of sense afford;

3.1.1051383The name of ‘cousinʼ is a bloody word.

Iʼll neʼer call coz again whilst I live, to have such 1385a coil about it. This should be a coronation day, for my 1386head runs claret lustily.

[To 2 Prentice] Go, wish the surgeon to have great respect.

[To the Officer] How now, my friend; what, do they sit today?

Yes, sir, they expect you at the Senate House.

I thank your pains; Iʼll not be last man there.

My gown, George; go, my gown.

My gown, George; go, my gown. A happy land,

3.1.1121392Where grave men meet, each cause to understand,

3.1.1131393Whose consciences are not cut out in bribes

3.1.1141394To gull the poor manʼs right, but in even scales

3.1.1151395Peize rich and poor, without corruptionʼs vails.

[To him] Come, whereʼs the gown?

[To him] Come, whereʼs the gown? I cannot find the key, sir.

Request it of your mistress.

Come not to me for any key;

3.1.1191399Iʼll not be troubled to deliver it.

Good wife, kind wife, it is a needful trouble,

3.1.1211401But for my gown.

But for my gown. Moths swallow down your gown!

3.1.1221403You set my teeth on edge with talking onʼt.

Nay, prithee, sweet, I cannot meet without it;

3.1.1241405I should have a great fine set on my head.

Set on your coxcomb! Tush, fine me no fines.

Believe me, sweet, none greets the Senate House

3.1.1271408Without his robe of reverence – thatʼs his gown.

Well, then youʼre like to cross that custom once.

3.1.1291410You get nor key nor gown; and so depart.

3.1.1301411[Aside] This trick will vex him sure, and fret his heart.

Stay, let me see; I must have some device.

3.1.1321413My cloakʼs too short; fie, fie, no cloak will doʼt.

3.1.1331414It must be something fashioned like a gown,

3.1.1341415With my arms out. O George, come hither, George;

3.1.1351416I prithee, lend me thine advice.

Truth, sir, were it any but you, they would break open chest.

O, no! Break open chest? Thatʼs a thiefʼs office.

3.1.1381419Therein you counsel me against my blood;

3.1.1391420ʼTwould show impatience, that. Any meek means

3.1.1401421I would be glad to embrace. Mass, I have got it!

3.1.1411422Go, step up, fetch me down one of the carpets –

3.1.1421423The saddest-coloured carpet, honest George.

3.1.1431424Cut thou a hole iʼthʼ middle for my neck;

3.1.1441425Two for mine arms. Nay, prithee, look not strange.

I hope you do not think, sir, as you mean.

Prithee, about it quickly; the hour chides me.

3.1.1471428Warily, George, softly; take heed of eyes.

Out of two evils, heʼs accounted wise

3.1.1491430That can pick out the least. The fine imposed

3.1.1501431For an ungownèd senator is about

3.1.1511432Forty crusadoes, the carpet not ʼbove four.

3.1.1521433Thus have I chosen the lesser evil yet,

3.1.1531434Preserved my patience, foiled her desperate wit.

Here, sir, hereʼs the carpet.

O, well done, George; weʼll cut it just iʼthʼ midst.

ʼTis very well; I thank thee. Help it on.

It must come over your head, sir, like a wenchʼs petticoat.

Thouʼrt in the right, good George; it must indeed.

3.1.1591440Fetch me a nightcap, for Iʼll gird it close,

3.1.1601441As if my health were queasy. ʼTwill show well

3.1.1611442For a rude, careless nightgown; willʼt not, thinkst?

Indifferent well, sir, for a nightgown, being girt and pleated.

Ay, and a nightcap on my head.

Thatʼs true, sir; Iʼll run and fetch one, and a staff.

For thus they cannot choose but conster it:

3.1.1661447One that is out of health takes no delight,

3.1.1671448Wears his apparel without appetite,

3.1.1681449And puts on heedless raiment without form.

So, so, kind George. Be secret now; and, prithee,

3.1.170Do not laugh 1451at me till Iʼm out of sight.

I laugh? Not I, sir.

I laugh? Not I, sir. Now to the Senate House.

3.1.1721453Methinks Iʼd rather wear, without a frown,

3.1.1731454A patient carpet than an angry gown.

Now looks my master just like one of our carpet-knights; 1456only heʼs somewhat the honester of the two.

What, is your master gone?

Yes, forsooth, his back is but new turned.

And in his cloak? Did he not vex and swear?

[Aside] No, but heʼll make you swear anon.

3.1.179[To her] No, indeed, 1461he went away like a lamb.

Key, sink to hell! Still patient, patient still?

3.1.1811463I am with child to vex him. Prithee, George,

3.1.1821464If eʼer thou lookst for favour at my hands,

3.1.1831465Uphold one jest for me.

Uphold one jest for me. Against my master?

ʼTis a mere jest, in faith. Say, wilt thou doʼt?

Well, what isʼt?

Here, take this key. Thou knowst where all things lie.

3.1.1871469Put on thy masterʼs best apparel – gown,

3.1.1881470Chain, cap, ruff, everything. Be like himself,

3.1.1891471And, ʼgainst his coming home, walk in the shop;

3.1.1901472Feign the same carriage and his patient look.

3.1.1911473ʼTwill breed but a jest, thou knowst. Speak, wilt thou?

ʼTwill wrong my masterʼs patience.

ʼTwill wrong my masterʼs patience. Prithee, George.

Well, if youʼll save me 1476harmless, and put me under covert barn, I am content to 1477please you, provided it may breed no wrong against him.

No wrong at all.

No wrong at all. Here, take the key; begone.

3.1.1961479If any vex him, this; if not this, none.

O Roger, Roger, whereʼs your mistress, whereʼs your 1483mistress? Thereʼs the finest, neatest gentleman at my house, 1484but newly come over. O, where is she, where 1485is she?

My mistress is abroad, but not amongst ʼem. My 1487mistress is not the whore now that you take her for.

How? Is she not a whore? Do you go about to take 1489away her good name, Roger? You are a fine pander indeed!

I tell you, Madonna Fingerlock, I am not sad for 1491nothing. I haʼ not eaten one good meal this three-and-1492thirty days. I had wont to get sixteen pence by fetching a 1493pottle of hippocras, but now those days are past. We had 1494as good doings, Madonna Fingerlock, she within doors and 1495I without, as any poor young couple in Milan.

Godʼs my life, and is she changed now?

I haʼ lost by her squeamishness more than would 1498have builded twelve bawdy-houses.

And had she no time to turn honest but now? What a vile 1500woman is this! Twenty pound a night, Iʼll be sworn, Roger, 1501in good gold and no silver. Why, here was a time! If she 1502should haʼ picked out a time, it could not be better. Gold 1503enough stirring, choice of men, choice of hair, choice of 1504beards, choice of legs, and choice of every, every, every 1505thing. It cannot sink into my head that she should be such 1506an ass. Roger, I never believe it.

Here she comes now.

O sweet madonna, on with your loose gown, your 1509felt and your feather! Thereʼs the sweetest, propʼrest, gallantest 1510gentleman at my house. He smells all of musk and 1511ambergris, his pocket full of crowns, flame-coloured doublet, 1512red satin hose, carnation silk stockings, and a leg and a 1513body – O!

Hence, thou our sexʼs monster, poisonous bawd,

3.2.111515Lustʼs factor, and damnationʼs orator!

3.2.121516Gossip of hell! Were all the harlotsʼ sins

3.2.131517Which the whole world contains numbered together,

3.2.141518Thine far exceeds them all. Of all the creatures

3.2.151519That ever were created, thou art basest;

3.2.161520What serpent would beguile thee of thy office?

3.2.171521It is detestable, for thou livʼst

3.2.181522Upon the dregs of harlots, guardst the door,

3.2.191523Whilst couples go to dancing. O coarse devil!

3.2.201524Thou art the bastardʼs curse, thou brandst his birth;

3.2.211525The lecherʼs French disease, for thou dry-suckst him;

3.2.221526The harlotʼs poison; and thine own confusion.

Marry come up, with a pox! Have you nobody to 1528rail against but your bawd now?

[To Roger] And you, knave pander, kinsman to a bawd –

[To Fingerlock] You and I, madonna, are cousins.

Of the same blood and making, near allied;

3.2.271532Thou, that slave to sixpence, base-metalled villain –

Sixpence? Nay, thatʼs not so; I never took under two 1534shillings four-pence. I hope I know my fee.

I know not against which most to inveigh,

3.2.301536For both of you are damned so equally.

3.2.311537[To Roger] Thou never sparʼst for oaths, swearst anything,

3.2.321538As if thy soul were made of shoe-leather:

3.2.331539‘God damn me, gentleman, if she be withinʼ –

3.2.341540When in the next room sheʼs found dallying.

If it be my vocation to swear, every man in his 1542vocation; I hope my betters swear and damn themselves, and 1543why should not I?

Roger, you cheat kind gentlemen!

The more gulls they.

Slave, I cashier thee.

An you do cashier him, he shall be entertained.

Shall I? [To Bellafront] Then blurt oʼyour service.

[To Fingerlock] As hell would have it, entertained by you!

3.2.421549I dare the devil himself to match those two.

Marry gup, are you grown so holy, so pure, so 1551honest, with a pox?

Scurvy honest punk! But stay, madonna, how must 1553our agreement be now? For, you know, I am to have all the 1554comings-in at the hall door, and you at the chamber door.

True, Roger, except my vails.

Vails? What vails?

Why, as thus: if a couple come in a coach and ʼlight to 1557lie down a little, then, Roger, thatʼs my fee, and you may walk 1558abroad; for the coachman himself is their pander.

Is ʼa so? In truth, I have almost forgot, for want of 1560exercise. But how if I fetch this citizenʼs wife to that gull, and 1561that madonna to that gallant? How then?

Why then, Roger, you are to have sixpence a lane – 1563so many lanes, so many sixpences.

Isʼt so? Then I see we two shall agree and live together.

Ay, Roger, so long as there be any taverns and 1566bawdy-houses in Milan.

3.3.101580O, ʼtis in vain to write! It will not please.

3.3.111581Ink on this paper would haʼ but presented

3.3.121582The foul black spots that stick upon my soul,

3.3.131583And rather made me loathsomer than wrought

3.3.141584My loveʼs impression in Hippolitoʼs thought.

3.3.151585No, I must turn the chaste leaves of my breast,

3.3.161586And pick out some sweet means to breed my rest.

3.3.171587Hippolito, believe me, I will be

3.3.181588As true unto thy heart as thy heart to thee,

3.3.191589And hate all men, their gifts, and company.

You, Goody Punk, subaudi Cockatrice! O, youʼre a 1592sweet whore of your promise, are you not, think you? How 1593well you came to supper to us last night! Mew, a whore and 1594break her word! Nay, you may blush and hold down your 1595head at it well enough. ʼSfoot, ask these gallants if we stayed 1596not till we were as hungry as sergeants.

Ay, and their yeomen too.

Nay, faith, acquaintance, let me tell you you forgot 1599yourself too much. We had excellent cheer, rare vintage, 1600and were drunk after supper.

And when we were in our woodcocks, sweet 1602rogue, a brace of gulls dwelling here in the city came 1603in and paid all the shot.

Pox on her! Let her alone.

O, I pray do, if you be gentlemen;

3.3.261605I pray depart the house. Beshrew the door

3.3.271606For being so easily entreated! Faith,

3.3.281607I lent but little ear unto your talk;

3.3.291608My mind was busied otherwise, in troth,

3.3.301609And so your words did unregarded pass.

3.3.311610Let this suffice: I am not as I was.

‘I am not what I wasʼ! No, Iʼll be sworn thou art not. 1612For thou wert honest at five, and now thouʼrt a punk at 1613fifteen; thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now thouʼrt a 1614cunning cony-catching baggage today.

Iʼll say Iʼm worse; I pray forsake me then.

3.3.341616I do desire you leave me, gentlemen.

3.3.351617And leave yourselves. O, be not what you are,

3.3.361618Spendthrifts of soul and body!

3.3.371619Let me persuade you to forsake all harlots,

3.3.381620Worse than the deadliest poisons; they are worse,

3.3.391621For oʼer their souls hangs an eternal curse.

3.3.401622In being slaves to slaves, their labours perish;

3.3.411623Theyʼre seldom blest with fruit, for ere it blossoms

3.3.421624Many a worm confounds it.

3.3.431625They have no issue but foul ugly ones

3.3.441626That run along with them eʼen to their graves;

3.3.451627For ʼstead of children they breed rank diseases,

3.3.461628And all you gallants can bestow on them

3.3.471629Is that French infant which neʼer acts but speaks.

3.3.481630What shallow son and heir, then, foolish gallant,

3.3.491631Would waste all his inheritance to purchase

3.3.501632A filthy, loathed disease, and pawn his body

3.3.511633To a dry evil? That usuryʼs worst of all

3.3.521634When thʼinterest will eat out the principal.

[Aside] ʼSfoot, she gulls ʼem the best! This is always 1636her fashion, when she would be rid of any 1637company that she cares not for, to enjoy mine alone.

Whatʼs here? Instructions, admonitions, and 1639caveats? Come out, you scabbard of vengeance.

Fluello, spurn your hounds when they fist; you 1641shall not spurn my punk. I can tell you my blood is vexed.

Pox oʼyour blood! Make it a quarrel.

Youʼre a slave. Will that serve turn?

ʼSblood, hold, hold!

Mattheo, Fluello, for shame, put up!

Spurn my sweet varlet!

Spurn my sweet varlet! O how many, thus

3.3.611648Moved with a little folly, have let out

3.3.621649Their souls in brothel-houses, fell down and died

3.3.631650Just at their harlotʼs foot, as ʼtwere in pride!

Mattheo, we shall meet.

Ay, ay, anywhere, saving at church; pray take heed 1653we meet not there.

[To Bellafront] Adieu, damnation!

[To Bellafront] Adieu, damnation! Cockatrice, farewell!

Thereʼs more deceit in women than in hell.

Ha, ha, thou dost gull ʼem so rarely, so naturally! If 1658I did not think thou hadst been in earnest! Thou art a sweet 1659rogue forʼt, iʼfaith.

Why are not you gone too, Signor Mattheo?

3.3.701661I pray depart my house. You may believe me,

3.3.711662In troth I have no part of harlot in me.

Howʼs this?

Indeed I love you not, but hate you worse

3.3.741665Than any man, because you were the first

3.3.751666Gave money for my soul. You brake the ice

3.3.761667Which after turned a puddle; I was led

3.3.771668By your temptation to be miserable.

3.3.781669I pray seek out some other that will fall;

3.3.791670Or rather, I pray, seek out none at all.

Isʼt possible to be impossible, an honest whore? I 1672have heard many honest wenches turn strumpets with 1673a wet finger; but for a harlot to turn honest is one of 1674Herculesʼ labours. It was more easy for him in one night to 1675make fifty queans than to make one of them honest 1676again in fifty years. Come, I hope thou dost but jest.

ʼTis time to leave off jesting; I had almost

3.3.821678Jested away salvation. I shall love you

3.3.831679If you will soon forsake me.

If you will soon forsake me. God bʼwiʼ thee.

O, tempt no more women! Shun their weighty curse!

3.3.851682Women at best are bad; make them not worse.

3.3.861683You gladly seek our sexʼs overthrow,

3.3.871684But not to raise our states. For all your wrongs

3.3.881685Will you vouchsafe me but due recompense,

3.3.891686To marry with me?

How, marry with a punk, a cockatrice, a 1688harlot? Marry faugh, Iʼll be burnt through the nose first.

Why, la, these are your oaths! You love to undo us,

3.3.921690To put heaven from us, whilst our best hours waste;

3.3.931691You love to make us lewd, but never chaste.

Iʼll hear no more of this, this ground upon:

3.3.951693Thouʼrt damned for altʼring thy religion.

Thy lust and sin speak so much. Go thou, my ruin,

3.3.971695The first fall my soul took. By my example

3.3.981696I hope few maidens now will put their heads

3.3.991697Under menʼs girdles. Who least trusts is most wise;

3.3.1001698Menʼs oaths do cast a mist before our eyes.

3.3.1011699My best of wit be ready! Now I go

3.3.1021700By some device to greet Hippolito.

So. This is Monday morning, and now must I to my 1705huswifery. Would I had been created a shoemaker, for all the 1706gentle craft are gentlemen every Monday by their copy, 1707and scorn then to work one true stitch. My master means 1708sure to turn me into a student, for hereʼs my book, here 1709my desk, here my light, this my close chamber, and here 1710my punk. So that this dull, drowsy first day of the week 1711makes me half a priest, half a chandler, half a painter, 1712half a sexton, ay, and half a bawd; for all this day my office 1713is to do nothing but keep the door. To prove it, look you, 1714this good face and yonder gentleman, so soon as ever my 1715backʼs turned, will be naught together.

Are all the windows shut?

Close, sir, as the fist 1717of a courtier that hath stood in three reigns.

Thou art a faithful servant, and observʼst

4.1.51719The calendar both of my solemn vows

4.1.61720And ceremonious sorrow. Get thee gone;

4.1.71721I charge thee, on thy life, let not the sound

4.1.81722Of any womanʼs voice pierce through that door.

If they do, my lord, Iʼll pierce some of them. 1724What will your lordship have to breakfast?

Sighs.

What to dinner?

Tears.

The one of them, my lord, will fill you too full of 1727wind, the other wet you too much. What to supper?

That which now thou canst not get me, the 1729constancy of a woman.

Indeed, thatʼs harder to come by than ever was 1731Ostend.

Prithee, away.

Iʼll make away myself presently, which few 1734servants will do for their lords, but rather help to make 1735them away. [Aside] Now to my door-keeping; I hope to pick 1736something out of it.

[Taking the picture] My Infeliceʼs face: her brow, her eye,

4.1.191738The dimple on her cheek; and such sweet skill

4.1.201739Hath from the cunning workmanʼs pencil flown,

4.1.211740These lips look fresh and lively as her own,

4.1.221741Seeming to move and speak. ʼLas, now I see

4.1.231742The reason why fond women love to buy

4.1.241743Adulterate complexion. Here ʼtis read:

4.1.251744False colours last after the true be dead.

4.1.261745Of all the roses grafted on her cheeks,

4.1.271746Of all the graces dancing in her eyes,

4.1.281747Of all the music set upon her tongue,

4.1.291748Of all that was past womanʼs excellence

4.1.301749In her white bosom – look, a painted board

4.1.311750Circumscribes all. Earth can no bliss afford,

4.1.321751Nothing of her, but this. This cannot speak;

4.1.331752It has no lap for me to rest upon,

4.1.341753No lip worth tasting. Here the worms will feed

4.1.351754As in her coffin. Hence then, idle art!

4.1.361755True loveʼs best pictured in a true-loveʼs heart.

4.1.371756Here art thou drawn, sweet maid, till this be dead,

4.1.381757So that thou livʼst twice, twice art burièd.

4.1.391758Thou, figure of my friend, lie there.

Thou, figure of my friend, lie there. [Taking the skull] Whatʼs here?

4.1.401759Perhaps this shrewd pate was mine enemyʼs.

4.1.411760ʼLas, say it were; I need not fear him now!

4.1.421761For all his braves, his contumelious breath,

4.1.431762His frowns (though dagger-pointed), all his plots

4.1.441763(Though neʼer so mischievous), his Italian pills,

4.1.451764His quarrels, and that common fence, his law –

4.1.461765See, see, theyʼre all eaten out; hereʼs not left one.

4.1.471766How clean theyʼre picked away, to the bare bone!

4.1.481767How mad are mortals, then, to rear great names

4.1.491768On tops of swelling houses! Or to wear out

4.1.501769Their fingersʼ ends in dirt, to scrape up gold!

4.1.511770Not caring – so that sumpter-horse, the back,

4.1.521771Be hung with gaudy trappings – with what coarse,

4.1.531772Yea, rags most beggarly, they clothe the soul;

4.1.541773Yet, after all, their gayness looks thus foul.

4.1.551774What fools are men to build a garish tomb,

4.1.561775Only to save the carcass whilst it rots,

4.1.571776To maintainʼt long in stinking, make good carrion,

4.1.581777But leave no good deeds to preserve them sound!

4.1.591778For good deeds keep men sweet long above ground.

4.1.601779And must all come to this? Fools, wise, all hither?

4.1.611780Must all heads thus at last be laid together?

4.1.621781Draw me my picture then, thou grave, neat workman,

4.1.631782After this fashion – not like this [Indicating the picture]; these colours

4.1.641783In time, kissing but air, will be kissed off.

4.1.651784But hereʼs a fellow; that which he lays on

4.1.661785Till doomsday alters not complexion.

4.1.671786Deathʼs the best painter, then. They that draw shapes

4.1.681787And live by wicked faces are but Godʼs apes;

4.1.691788They come but near the life, and there they stay.

4.1.701789This fellow draws life too. His art is fuller;

4.1.711790The pictures which he makes are without colour.

Hereʼs a person would speak with you, sir.

Ha?

A parson, sir, would speak with you.

Vicar?

Vicar? No, sir, hʼas too good a face to be a vicar yet; a 1797youth, a very youth.

What youth? Of man or woman? Lock the doors.

If it be a woman, marrowbones and potato-pies keep 1800me froʼ meddling with her, for the thing has got the breeches. 1801ʼTis a male varlet, sure, my lord, for a womanʼs tailor neʼer 1802measured him.

Let him give thee his message and be gone.

He says heʼs Signor Mattheoʼs man, but I know he 1805lies.

How dost thou know it?

ʼCause hʼas neʼer a beard. ʼTis his boy, I think, sir, 1808whosoeʼer paid for his nursing.

Send him, and keep the door.

4.1.881813Iʼd sail, were I to choose, not in the ocean;

4.1.891814Cedars are shaken, when shrubs do feel no bruise –

4.1.901816[To her] How? From Mattheo?

[To her] How? From Mattheo? Yes, my lord.

[To her] How? From Mattheo? Yes, my lord. Art sick?

Not all in health, my lord.

Not all in health, my lord. Keep off.

Not all in health, my lord. Keep off. I do.

4.1.921822[Aside] Hard fate, when women are compelled to woo.

This paper does speak nothing.

This paper does speak nothing. Yes, my lord,

4.1.941825Matter of life it speaks, and therefore writ

4.1.951826In hidden character. To me instruction

4.1.961827My master gives, and – ʼless you please to stay

4.1.971828Till you both meet – I can the text display.

Do so; read out.

Do so; read out. [Revealing herself] I am already out;

4.1.991831Look on my face, and read the strangest story.

[Calling out] What, villain, ho!

Call you, my lord?

Thou slave, thou hast let in the devil.

Lord bless us, where? Heʼs not cloven, my lord, that 1836I can see. Besides, the devil goes more like a gentleman 1837than a page. Good my lord, buon coraggio!

Thou hast let in a woman, in manʼs shape;

4.1.1051839And thou art damned forʼt.

Not damned, I hope, for putting in a woman to a lord.

Fetch me my rapier! – Do not: I shall kill thee.

4.1.1081842Purge this infected chamber of that plague

4.1.1091843That runs upon me thus; slave, thrust her hence.

Alas, my lord, I shall never be able to thrust her hence 1845without help. – Come, mermaid, you must to sea again.

Hear me but speak; my words shall be all music.

4.1.1121847Hear me but speak!

Hear me but speak! [To the Servant] Another beats the door.

4.1.1131849Tʼother she-devil! Look!

Tʼother she-devil! Look! Why, then hellʼs broke loose.

Hence, guard the chamber. Let no more come on;

4.1.1151852One woman serves for manʼs damnation.

4.1.1161853[To Bellafront] Beshrew thee, thou dost make me violate

4.1.1171854The chastest and most sanctimonious vow

4.1.1181855That eʼer was entered in the court of heaven.

4.1.1191856I was on meditationʼs spotless wings

4.1.1201857Upon my journey thither. Like a storm

4.1.1211858Thou beatst my ripened cogitations

4.1.1221859Flat to the ground, and like a thief dost stand

4.1.1231860To steal devotion from the holy land.

If woman were thy mother, if thy heart

4.1.1251862Be not all marble (or ifʼt marble be

4.1.1261863Let my tears soften it, to pity me),

4.1.1271864I do beseech thee, do not thus with scorn

4.1.1281865Destroy a woman.

Destroy a woman. Woman, I beseech thee,

4.1.1291867Get thee some other suit; this fits thee not.

4.1.1301868I would not grant it to a kneeling queen;

4.1.1311869I cannot love thee, nor I must not. [Indicating the picture] See

4.1.1321870The copy of that obligation

4.1.1331871Where my soulʼs bound in heavy penalties.

Sheʼs dead, you told me. Sheʼll let fall her suit.

My vows to her fled after her to heaven.

4.1.1361874Were thine eyes clear as mine, thou mightst behold her,

4.1.1371875Watching upon yon battlements of stars,

4.1.1381876How I observe them. Should I break my bond,

4.1.1391877This board would rive in twain, these wooden lips

4.1.1401878Call me most perjured villain. Let it suffice

4.1.1411879I haʼ set thee in the path; isʼt not a sign

4.1.1421880I love thee, when with one so most, most dear

4.1.1431881Iʼll have thee fellows? All are fellows there.

Be greater than a king; save not a body,

4.1.1451883But from eternal shipwreck keep a soul.

4.1.1461884If not, and that again sinʼs path I tread,

4.1.1471885The grief be mine, the guilt fall on thy head!

Stay, and take physic for it. Read this book.

4.1.1491887Ask counsel of this head whatʼs to be done;

4.1.1501888Heʼll strike it dead that ʼtis damnation

4.1.1511889If you turn Turk again. O do it not!

4.1.1521890Though heaven cannot allure you to do well,

4.1.1531891From doing ill let hell fright you. And learn this:

4.1.1541892The soul whose bosom lust did never touch

4.1.1551893Is Godʼs fair bride, and maidensʼ souls are such;

4.1.1561894The soul that, leaving chastityʼs white shore,

4.1.1571895Swims in hot sensual streams, is the devilʼs whore.

4.1.1581896[To him] How now? Who comes?

No more knaves, my lord, that wear smocks. Hereʼs 1898a letter from Doctor Benedict. I would not enter his man, though 1899he had hairs at his mouth, for fear he should be a woman, for 1900some women have beards; marry, they are half-witches. [To Bellafront] 1901ʼSlid, you are a sweet youth, to wear a codpiece and have no 1902pins to stick uponʼt.

[To the Servant] Iʼll meet the doctor, tell him. Yet tonight

4.1.1611904I cannot; but at morrow rising sun

4.1.1621905I will not fail. Go. – Woman, fare thee well.

The lowest fall can be but into hell.

4.1.1641907It does not move him. I must therefore fly

4.1.1651908From this undoing city, and with tears

4.1.1661909Wash off all anger from my fatherʼs brow.

4.1.1671910He cannot sure but joy, seeing me new born.

4.1.1681911A woman honest first and then turn whore

4.1.1691912Is, as with me, common to thousands more;

4.1.1701913But from a strumpet to turn chaste, that sound

4.1.1711914Has oft been heard, that woman hardly found.

Hold up your hands, gentlemen. [Giving money] Hereʼs one, two, three – 1917nay, I warrant they are sound pistoles, and without flaws; I 1918had them of my sister, and I know she uses to put up nothing 1919thatʼs cracked – three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine; by 1920this hand, bring me but a piece of his blood, and you shall 1921have nine more. Iʼll lurk in a tavern not far off, and provide 1922supper to close up the end of the tragedy. The linen-draperʼs, 1923remember. Stand toʼt, I beseech you, and play your parts perfectly.

Look you, signor, ʼtis not your gold that we weigh.

Nay, nay, weigh it and spare not. If it lack one grain of corn, 1926Iʼll give you a bushel of wheat to make it up.

But by your favour, signor, which of the servants 1928is it? Because weʼll punish justly.

Marry, ʼtis the head man. You shall taste him by his 1930tongue – a pretty, tall, prating fellow, with a Tuscalonian beard.

Tuscalonian? Very good.

Codʼs life, I was neʼer so thrummed since I was a 1933gentleman. My coxcomb was dry-beaten as if my hair had been 1934hemp.

Weʼll dry-beat some of them.

Nay, it grew so high that my sister cried ‘Murder!ʼ out, 1936very manfully. I have her consent, in a manner, to have him 1937peppered; else Iʼd not doʼt to win more than ten cheaters do at a 1938rifling. Break but his pate or so, only his mazer, because 1939Iʼll have his head in a cloth as well as mine; heʼs a linen-1940draper, and may take enough. I could enter mine action of 1941battery against him, but we may ʼhaps be both dead and rotten 1942before the lawyers would end it.

No more to do but ensconce yourself iʼthʼ tavern. 1944Provide no great cheer: a couple of capons, some pheasants, 1945plovers, an orangeado pie or so. But, how bloody soeʼer the 1946day be, sally you not forth.

No, no; nay, if I stir, some body shall stink. Iʼll not budge; 1948Iʼll lie like a dog in a manger.

Well, well, to the tavern. Let not our supper be raw, 1950for you shall have blood enough, your bellyful.

Thatʼs all, so God saʼ me, I thirst after: blood for blood, 1952bump for bump, nose for nose, head for head, plaster for 1953plaster. And so farewell. What shall I call your names? Because Iʼll 1954leave word, if any such come to the bar.

My name is Corporal Crambo.

And mine Lieutenant Poh.

Poh is as tall a man as ever opened oyster; I would 1958not be the devil to meet Poh. Farewell.

Nor I, by this light, if Poh be such a Poh.

Whatʼs oʼclock now?

Whatʼs oʼclock now? ʼTis almost twelve.

Whatʼs oʼclock now? ʼTis almost twelve. Thatʼs well.

4.3.21965The Senate will leave wording presently.

4.3.31966But is George ready?

But is George ready? Yes, forsooth, heʼs furbished.

Now, as you ever hope to win my favour,

4.3.51969Throw both your duties and respects on him

4.3.61970With the like awe as if he were your master.

4.3.71971Let not your looks betray it with a smile

4.3.81972Or jeering glance to any customer;

4.3.91973Keep a true settled countenance, and beware

4.3.101974You laugh not, whatsoever you hear or see.

I warrant you, mistress, let us alone for keeping our 1976countenance; for if I list, thereʼs never a fool in all Milan shall 1977make me laugh, let him play the fool never so like an ass, 1978whether it be the fat court fool or the lean city fool.

Enough, then; call down George.

Enough, then; call down George. I hear him coming.

[To the Prentices] Be ready with your legs, then; let me see

4.3.141983How courtʼsy would become him. [The Prentices curtsy.] Gallantly!

4.3.151984[Commenting on George] Beshrew my blood, a proper, seemly man,

4.3.161985Of a choice carriage, walks with a good port.

I thank you, mistress. My backʼs broad enough, now 1987my masterʼs gownʼs on.

Sure, I should think it were the least of sin

4.3.191989To mistake the master, and to let him in.

ʼTwere a good comedy of errors, that, iʼfaith.

Whist, whist, my master!

You all know your tasks.

Godʼs my life, whatʼs that 1994he has got uponʼs back? Who can tell?

[Aside] That can I, but I will not.

Girt about him like a madman. What? Has he lost 1997his cloak, too? This is the maddest fashion that eʼer I saw. 1998What said he, George, when he passed by thee?

Troth, mistress, nothing: not so much as a bee, he did 2000not hum; not so much as a bawd, he did not hem; not so 2001much as a cuckold, he did not ha. Neither hum, hem, nor ha – 2002only stared me in the face, passed along, and made haste in, as if 2003my looks had worked with him to give him a stool.

Sure heʼs vexed now; this trick has moved his spleen.

4.3.282005Heʼs angered now, because he uttered nothing,

4.3.292006And wordless wrath breaks out more violent.

4.3.302007Maybe heʼll strive for place, when he comes down;

4.3.312008But if thou lovʼst me, George, afford him none.

Nay, let me alone to play my masterʼs prize, as long as 2010my mistress warrants me. Iʼm sure I have his best clothes 2011on, and I scorn to give place to any that is inferior in 2012apparel to me. Thatʼs an axiom, a principle, and is observed as much 2013as the fashion. Let that persuade you, then, that Iʼll shoulder 2014with him for the upper hand in the shop, as long as this 2015chain will maintain it.

Spoke with the spirit of a master, though with the 2017tongue of a prentice.

Why, how now, madman? What, in your tricksy coats?

O peace, good mistress.

[To them] See what you lack! What isʼt you buy? Pure calicoes, fine 2023hollands, choice cambrics, neat lawns. See what you 2024buy. Pray come near. My master will use you well; he can 2025afford you a pennyworth.

Ay, that he can – out of a whole piece of lawn, iʼfaith.

Pray see your choice here, gentlemen.

O fine fool! What, a madman? A patient madman? 2029Who ever heard of the like? Well, sir, Iʼll fit you and your 2030humour presently. What, cross-points? Iʼll untie ʼem all in a trice. 2031Iʼll vex you, faith! Boy, take your cloak; quick, come!

Be covered, George. This chain and welted gown

4.3.412033Bare to this coat? Then the worldʼs upside-down.

Umh, umh, hum.

[Aside to Poh] Thatʼs the shop, and thereʼs the fellow. [Indicating Candido in his prentice-coat.]

Ay, but the master is walking in there.

No matter; weʼll in.

ʼSblood, dost long to lie in limbo?

An limbo be in hell, I care not.

[To them] Look you, gentlemen, your choice. Cambrics?

No, sir, some shirting.

You shall.

Have you none of this striped canvas for doublets?

None striped, sir; but plain.

I think there be one piece striped within.

Step, sirrah, and fetch it; hum, hum, hum.

Look you, gentlemen, Iʼll make but one 2048spreading. Hereʼs a piece of cloth, fine, yet shall wear like iron. ʼTis 2049without fault. Take this; upon my word, ʼtis without fault.

Then ʼtis better than you, sirrah.

Ay, and a number more. O, that each soul

4.3.582052Were but as spotless as this innocent white,

4.3.592053And had as few breaks in it!

And had as few breaks in it! ʼTwould have some, then,

4.3.60There was a fray here last 2055day in this shop.

There was, indeed, a little flea-biting.

A gentleman had his pate broke. Call you that but 2058a flea-biting?

He had so.

Zounds, do you stand inʼt? He strikes him.

ʼSfoot, clubs, clubs! Prentices, down with ʼem! Ah, you 2062rogues, strike a citizen inʼs shop?

None of you stir, I pray. Forbear, good George.

[To Candido] I beseech you, sir, we mistook our marks.

4.3.68Deliver 2065us our weapons.

[To Candido] Your head bleeds, sir. Cry clubs.

I say you shall not. Pray be patient;

4.3.712068Give them their weapons. [George complies.]

Give them their weapons. [George complies.] [To Crambo and Poh] Sirs, youʼre best be gone.

4.3.722069I tell you here are boys more tough than bears;

4.3.732070Hence, lest more fists do walk about your ears.

We thank you, sir.

We thank you, sir. [To George] You shall not follow them.

4.3.752073Let them alone, pray. This did me no harm.

4.3.762074Troth, I was cold, and the blow made me warm;

4.3.772075I thank ʼem forʼt. Besides, I had decreed

4.3.782076To have a vein pricked. I did mean to bleed,

4.3.792077So that thereʼs money saved. They are honest men;

4.3.802078Pray use ʼem well when they appear again.

Yes, sir, weʼll use ʼem like honest men.

Ay, well said, George, like honest men, though they be 2081arrant knaves, for thatʼs the phrase of the city. Help to lay up 2082these wares.

[Indicating Candido] Yonder he stands.

What, in a prentice-coat?

Ay, ay, mad, mad. Pray take heed.

[To George and the Prentices] How now? What news with them? What make they 2088with my wife? Officers? Is she attached? Look to your wares.

He talks to himself. O, heʼs much gone indeed!

Pray pluck up a good heart; be not so fearful. [To his men] 2091Sirs, hark; weʼll gather to him by degrees.

Ay, ay, by degrees, I pray. O me! What makes he with 2093the lawn in his hand? Heʼll tear all the ware in my shop.

Fear not; weʼll catch him on a sudden.

O you had need do so; pray take heed of your warrant.

I warrant, mistress. – Now, Signor Candido?

Now, sir, what news with you, sir?

‘What news with you?ʼ he says. O, heʼs far gone!

[To her] I pray, fear nothing. Letʼs alone with him. –

4.3.962100Signor, you look not like yourself, methinks.

4.3.97Steal you oʼtʼ other side.

Steal you oʼtʼ other side. [To Candido] Youʼre changed, youʼre altered.

Changed, sir? Why, true, sir. Is change strange? ʼTis not 2103the fashion unless it alter: monarchs turn to beggars, 2104beggars creep into the nests of princes, masters serve their 2105prentices, ladies their servingmen, men turn to women.

And women turn to men.

Ay, and women turn to men. You say true, ha, ha! A 2108mad world, a mad world.

Have we caught you, sir?

Caught me? [Laughing] Well, well, you have caught me.

[To 1 Officer] He laughs in your faces.

A rescue, prentices! My masterʼs catchpoled.

I charge you, keep the peace or have your legs 2114gartered with irons. We have from the Duke a warrant strong 2115enough for what we do.

[To George and the Prentices] I pray, rest quiet; I desire no rescue.

La, he desires no rescue. ʼLas, poor heart,

4.3.1082118He talks against himself.

He talks against himself. [To 1 Officer] Well, whatʼs the matter?

[To his men as they bind Candido] Look to that arm;

4.3.1102121Pray make sure work, double the cord.

Pray make sure work, double the cord. Why, why?