2 Honest Whore – Act 3, scene 2

Return to previous scene

 

 Enter MATHEO, BELLAFRONT, and ORLANDO.

 BELLAFRONT
How now, what ails your master?

ORLANDO
Has taken a younger brother’s purge, forsooth, and that works with him.

BELLAFRONT
Where is his cloak and rapier?

ORLANDO
He has given up his cloak, and his rapier is bound to the peace.  If you look a little higher, you may see that another hath entered into hatband for him too.  Six and four have put him into this sweat.

BELLAFRONT
Where’s all his money?

ORLANDO
‘Tis put over by exchange.  His doublet was going to be translated, but for me.  If any man would ha’ lent but half a ducat on his beard, the hair of it had stuff’d a pair of breeches by this time.  I had but one poor penny, and that I was glad to niggle out and buy a holly-wand to grace him through the street.  As hap was, his boots were on, and them I dustied, to make people think he had been riding, and I had run by him.

BELLAFRONT
Oh me!  How does my sweet Matheo?

MATHEO
Oh, rogue!  Of what devilish stuff are these dice made of?  Of the parings of the devil’s corns of his toes, that they run thus damnably?

BELLAFRONT
I prithee, vex not.

MATHEO

If any handy-crafts man was ever suffered to keep shop in hell, it would be a dice-maker.  He’s able to undo more souls then the devil.  I played with mine own dice, yet lost.  Ha’ you any money?

BELLAFRONT
‘Las, I have none.

MATHEO
Must have money, must have some, must have a cloak, and rapier, and things.  Will you go set your lime-twigs and get me some birds, some money?

BELLAFRONT
What lime-twigs should I set?

MATHEO
You will not then?  Must have cash and pictures.  Do ye hear, frailty, shall I walk in a Plymouth cloak, that’s to say, like a rogue, in my hose and doublet, and a crabtree cudgel in my hand, and you swim in your satins?  Must have money, come.

ORLANDO
Is’t bed-time, master, that you undo my mistress?

BELLAFRONT
Undo me?  Yes, yes, at these riflings I
Have been too often.

MATHEO
Help to flay, Pacheco.

ORLANDO
Flaying call you it?

MATHEO
I’ll pawn you, by th’ lord, to your very eye-brows.

BELLAFRONT
With all my heart, since heaven will have me poor.
As good be drown’d at sea, as drown’d on shore.

ORLANDO
Why, hear you, sir.  I’faith, do not make away her gown.

MATHEO
Oh, it’s summer, it’s summer.  Your only fashion for a woman now, is to be light, to be light.

ORLANDO
Why, pray sir, employ some of that money you have of mine.

MATHEO
Thine?  I’ll starve first, I’ll beg first.  When I touch a penny of that, let these finger’s ends rot.

ORLANDO

[Aside.] So they may, for that’s past touching.  I saw my twenty pounds fly high.

MATHEO
Knowest thou never damn’d broker about the city?

ORLANDO
Damn’d broker?  Yes, five hundred.

MATHEO
The gown stood me in above twenty ducats, borrow ten of it.  Cannot live without silver.

ORLANDO
I’ll make what I can of it, sir, I’ll be your broker,
[Aside.] But not your damn’d broker.  Oh, thou scurvy knave,
What makes a wife turn whore, but such a slave?                [Exit.

MATHEO
How now, little chick?  What ailest?  Weeping for a handful of tailor’s shreds?  Pox on them!  Are there not silks enow at mercer’s?

BELLAFRONT
I care not for gay feathers, I.

MATHEO
What dost care for then?  Why dost grieve?

BELLAFRONT
Why do I grieve?  A thousand sorrows strike
At one poor heart, and yet it lives.  Matheo,
Thou art a gamester, prithee throw at all,
Set all upon one cast.  We kneel and pray,
And struggle for life, yet must be cast away.
Meet misery quickly then, split all, sell all,
And when thou hast sold all, spend it, but I beseech thee,
Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more.
To get it, wouldst thou have me play the whore?

MATHEO
‘Twas your profession before I married you.

BELLAFRONT
Umh?  It was indeed.  If all men should be branded
For sins long since laid up, who can be saved?
The quarter day’s at hand; how will you do
To pay the rent, Matheo?

MATHEO
Why?  Do as all of your occupation do against quarter days.  Break up house, remove, shift your lodgings.  Pox a’ your quarters!

 Enter LODOVICO.

LODOVICO
Where’s this gallant?

MATHEO
Signior Lodovico!  How does my little Mirror of Knighthood?  This is kindly done, i’faith.  Welcome, by my troth.

LODOVICO
And how dost, frolic?  Save you, fair lady.  Thou lookest smug and bravely, noble Mat.

MATHEO
Drink and feed, laugh, and lie warm.

LODOVICO
Is this thy wife?

MATHEO
A poor gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a’ nights.

LODOVICO
Pay custom to your lips, sweet lady.

MATHEO
Borrow some shells of him, some wine, sweet heart.

LODOVICO
I’ll send for’t then, i’faith.

MATHEO
You send for’t?  Some wine, I prithee.

BELLAFRONT
I ha’ no money.

MATHEO
S’blood, nor I.  What wine love you, signior?

LODOVICO
Here, or I’ll not stay, I protest.  Trouble the gentlewoman too much?

 [Exit BELLAFRONT.

And what news flies abroad, Matheo?

 MATHEO
Troth, none.  Oh, signior, we ha’ been merry in our days.

LODOVICO
And no doubt shall again.  The divine powers
Never shoot darts at mortal men to kill them.

MATHEO
You say true.

LODOVICO
Why should we grieve at want?  Say the world made thee
Her minion, that thy head lay in her lap,
And that she danc’d thee on her wanton knee;
She could but give thee a whole world, that’s all,
And that all’s nothing.  The world’s greatest part
Cannot fill up one corner of thy heart.
Say, the three corners were all fill’d; alas!
Of what art thou possess’d?  A thin blown glass,
Such as by boys is puff’d into the air.
Were twenty kingdoms thine, thou’dst live in care.
Thou couldst not sleep the better, nor live longer,
Nor merrier be, nor healthfuller, nor stronger.
If then thou wantst, thus make thy want thy pleasure.
No man wants all things, nor has all in measure.

MATHEO
I am the most wretched fellow.  Sure, some left-handed priest christened me, I am so unlucky.  I am never out of one puddle or another, still falling.

 Enter BELLAFRONT and ORLANDO.

Fill out wine to my little finger.
With my heart i’faith.

LODOVICO
Thanks, good Matheo
To you own sweet self.

ORLANDO
All the brokers hearts, sir, are made of flint.  I can with all my knocking strike but six sparks of fire out of them.  Here’s six ducats, if you’ll take them.

MATHEO
Give me them.  An evil conscience gnaw them all!  Moths and plagues hang upon their lousy wardrobes.

LODOVICO
Is this your man, Matheo?  An old serving-man.

ORLANDO
You may give me t’other half too, sir.  That’s the beggar.

LODOVICO
What hast there, gold?

MATHEO
A sort of rascals are in my debt, God knows what, and they feed me with bits, with crumbs.  A pox choke them!

LODOVICO
A word, Matheo.  Be not angry with me.
Believe it that I know the touch of time,
And can part copper, though it be gilded o’er,
From the true gold.  The sails which thou dost spread
Would show well, if they were not borrowed.
The sound of thy low fortunes drew me hither.
I give myself unto thee, prithee, use me.
I will bestow on you a suit of satin
And all things else to fit a gentleman,
Because I love you.

MATHEO
Thanks, good noble knight.

LODOVICO
Call on me when you please, till then, farewell.                 [Exit.

MATHEO
Hast angled?  Hast cut up this fresh salmon?

BELLAFRONT
Wouldst have me be so base?

MATHEO
It’s base to steal, it’s base to be a whore.
Thour’t be more base, I’ll make thee keep a door.             [Exit.

ORLANDO
I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he?

BELLAFRONT
Thou seest he does.

ORLANDO
Nay, then it’s well I set my brains upon an upright last.  Though my wits be old, yet they are like a wither’d pippin, wholesome.  Look you, mistress, I told him I had but six ducts of the knave broker, but I had eight, and kept these two for you.

BELLAFRONT
Thou shouldst have given him all.

ORLANDO
Why, to fly high?

BELLAFRONT
Like waves, my misery drives on misery.                           [Exit.

ORLANDO
Sell his wive’s clothes from her back!  Does my poulterers wife pull chickens alive?  He riots all abroad, wants all at home.  He dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns.  I’ll give him hook and line, a little more for all this.
Yet sure i’th’ end he’ll delude all my hopes,
And show me a French trick danc’d on the ropes.             [Exit.

 

Proceed to next scene

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

%d bloggers like this: