Northwood Ho – Act 5, Scene 1

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Enter old MAYBERRY and BELLAMONT.

 MAYBERRY
But why have you brought us to the wrong inn?  And withal possess’d Greenshield that my wife is not in town.  When my project was, that I would have brought him up into the chamber where young Featherstone and his wife lay; and so all his artillery should have recoil’d into his own bosom.

BELLAMONT
O, it will fall out far better; you shall see my revenge will have a more neat and unexpected conveyance.  He hath been all up and down the town to inquire for a Londoner’s wife; none such is to be found, for I have mew’d your wife up already.  Marry, he hears of a Yorkshire gentlewoman at next inn, and that’s all the commodity Ware affords at this instant.  Now, sir, he very politically imagines that your wife is rode to Puckridge, five mile further, for saith he in such a town where hosts will be familiar and tapsters saucy, and chamberlains worse then thieve’s intelligencers; they’ll never put foot out of stirrup.  Either at Puckridge or Wadesmill, saith he, you shall find them; and because our horses are weary, he’s gone to take up post horse.    My counsel is only this:  when he comes in, fain yourself very melancholy; swear you will ride no further.  And this is your part of the comedy:  the sequel of the jest shall come like money borrowed of a courtier and paid within the day:  a thing strange and unexpected.

Enter GREENSHIELD.

 MAYBERRY
Enough; I ha’t.

BELLAMONT
He comes.

GREENSHIELD
Come, gallants, the post horse are ready; ‘tis but a quarter of an hour riding.  We’ll ferret them and firk them in faith.

BELLAMONT
Are they grown politic?  When do you see honesty covet corners or a gentleman that’s no thief lie in the inn of a carrier?

MAYBERRY
Nothing hath undone my wife but too much riding.

BELLAMONT
She was a pretty piece of a poet, indeed, and in her discourse would as many of your goldsmiths wives do, draw her simile from precious stones so wittily, as redder then your ruby, harder then your diamond, and so from stone to stone in less time then a man can draw on a straight boot, as if she had been an excellent lapidary.

GREENSHIELD
Come, will you to horse, sir?

MAYBERRY
No, let her go to the devil and she will; I’ll not stir a foot further.

GREENSHIELD
God’s precious! is’t come to this?  Persuade him, as you are a gentleman, there will be ballads made of  him, and the burthen thereof will be:  if you had rode out five mile forward, he had found the fatal house of Brainford Northward.  O, hone, hone, hone a nonero!

BELLAMONT
You are merry, sir.

GREENSHIELD
Like your citizen, I never think of my debts when I am a horseback.

BELLAMONT
You imagine you are riding from your creditors.

GREENSHIELD
Good, in faith.  Will you to horse?

MAYBERRY
I’ll ride no further.                                                                [Walks aside.

GREENSHIELD
Then I’ll discharge the postmaster.  Was’t not a pretty wit of mine master poet to have had him rod into Puckridge with a horn before him, was’t not?

BELLAMONT
Good sooth, excellent.  I was dull in apprehending it; but come, since we must stay, we’ll be merry.  Chamberlain, call in the music, bid the tapsters and maids come up and dance; what we’ll make a night of it! Hark you, masters, I have an excellent jest to make old Mayberry merry.  ‘Sfoot, we’ll have him merry!

Enter Fiddlers.

GREENSHIELD
Let’s make him drunk then; a simple catching wit, I.

BELLAMONT
Go thy ways.  I know a nobleman would take such a delight in thee.

GREENSHIELD
Why, so he would in his fool.

BELLAMONT
Before God, but he would make a difference; he would keep you in satin.  But as I was a-saying, we’ll have him merry.  His wife is gone to Puckridge; ‘tis a wench makes him melancholy; ‘tis a wench must make him merry.  We must help him to a wench.  When you citizen comes into his lane wet and cold, dropping, either the hostess or one of her maids warms his bed, pulls on his night-cap, cuts his corners, puts out the candle, bids him command aught, if he want aught; and so after master citiner sleeps as quietly, as if he lay in his own low country of Holland, his own linen, I mean, sir, we must have a wench for him.

GREENSHIELD
But where’s this wench to be found?  Here are all the moveable petticoats of the house.

BELLAMONT
At the next inn there lodged to-night—

GREENSHIELD
God’s precious!  A Yorkshire gentlewoman!  I ha’t; I’ll angle for her; presently, we’ll have him merry.

BELLAMONT
Procure some chamberlain to pander for you.

GREENSHIELD
No, I’ll be pander myself, because we’ll be merry.

BELLAMONT
Will you, will you?

GREENSHIELD
But how?  Be a pander as I am, a gentleman?  That were horrible.  I’ll thrust myself into the outside of a falconer in town here; and now I think on’t there are a company of country players that are come to town here shall furnish me hair and beard.  If I do not bring her—we’ll be wondrous merry!

BELLAMONT
About it; look you, sir, though she bear her far aloof, and her body out of distance, so her mind be coming, ‘tis no matter.

GREENSHIELD
Get old Mayberry merry.  That any man should take to heart thus the downfall of a woman!  I think when he comes home, poor snail, he’ll not dare to peep forth of doors lest his horns usher him.                        [Exit.

BELLAMONT
Go thy ways; there be more in England wear large ears and horns then stags and asses.  Excellent, he rides post with a halter about his neck.

MAYBERRY
How now?  Wilt take?

BELLAMONT
Beyond expectation.  I have persuaded him the only way to make you merry is to help you to a wench, and the fool is gone to pander his own wife hither.

MAYBERRY
Why, he’ll know her.

BELLAMONT
She hath been mask’d ever since she came into the inn, for fear of discovery.

MAYBERRY
Then she’ll know him.

BELLAMONT
For that his own unfortunate wit help’d my lazy invention, for he hath disguised himself like a fawkner in town here, hoping that procuring shape to do more good upon her then in the outside of a gentleman.

MAYBERRY
Young Featherstone will know him.

BELLAMONT
He’s gone into the town and will not return this half hour.

MAYBERRY
Excellent, if she will come.

BELLAMONT
Nay, upon my life, she’ll come!  When she enters, remember some of your young blood; talk as some of your gallant commoners will; dice and drink freely; do not call for sack, lest it betray the coldness of your manhood, but fetch a caper now and then to make the gold chink in your pockets.  Ay, so.

MAYBERRY
Ha, old poet! let’s once stand to it for the credit of Milkstreet.  Is my wife acquainted with this?

BELLAMONT
She’s perfect, and will come out upon her cue, I warrant you.

MAYBERRY
Good wenches, in faith.  Fill’s some more sack here.

BELLAMONT
God’s precious!  Do not call for sack by any means.

MAYBERRY
Why then, give us a whole lordship for life in Rhenish with the reversion in sugar.

BELLAMONT
Excellent.

MAYBERRY
It were not amiss if we were dancing.

BELLAMONT
Out upon’t.  I shall never do it.

Enter GREENSHIELD disguised, with MISTRESS GREENSHIELD.

 GREENSHIELD
Out of mine nostrils tapster, thou smelst, like Guildhall two days after Simon and Jude, of drink most horribly.  Off with thy mask, sweet sinner of the North; these masks are foils to good faces, and to bad ones they are like new satin outsides to lousy linings.

KATE
O, my no means, sir.  Your merchant will not open a whole piece to his best customer; he that buys a woman must take her as she falls.  I’ll unmask my hand.  Here’s the sample.

GREENSHIELD
Go to then.  Old poet, I have ta’en her up already as a pinnace bound for the straights.  She knows her burden yonder.

BELLAMONT
Lady, you are welcome.  Yon is the old gentleman and observe him; he’s not one of your far city chuffs, whose great belly argues that the felicity of his life consists in capon, sack, and sincere honesty, but a lean spare bountiful gallant, one that hath an old wife and a young performance; whose reward is no the rate of a captain newly come out of the low countries; or a Yorkshire attorney in good contentious practice, some angel.  Know, the proportion of your wealthy citizen to his wench is her chamber, her diet, her physic, her every thing.  You’ll say your young gentleman is your only service that lies before you like a calve’s head, with his brains some half yard from him, but I assure you, they must not only have variety of foolery, but also of wenches, whereas your conscionable grey-bread of Farrington within will keep himself, to the ruins of one cast waiting woman, an age; and perhaps, when he’s past all other good works, to wipe out false weights and twenty i’th’ hundred, marry her.

GREENSHIELD
O, well, bowled Tom (…), we have precedents for’t.

KATE
But I have a husband, sir.

BELLAMONT
You have?  If the knave thy husband shall be rich, make him poor that be may borrow money of this merchant, and be laid up in the Counter, or Ludgate, so it shall be conscience in your old gentleman, when he hath seized all thy goods, to take the horn and maintain thee.

GREENSHIELD
O, well, bowled Tom (…), we have precedents for’t.

KATE
Well, if you be not a nobleman, you are some great valiant gentleman by your bearing, and the fashion of your beard; and do but thus to make the citizen merry, because you owe him some money.

BELLAMONT
O, you are a wag.

MAYBERRY
You are very welcome.

GREENSHIELD
He is ta’en; excellent, excellent!  There’s one will make him merry; is it any imputation to help one’s friend to a wench?

BELLAMONT
No more then at my lord’s entreaty to help my lady to a pretty waiting woman.  If he had given you a gelding or the reversion of some monopoly, or a new suit of satin would have smelt of the pander; but what’s done freely comes like a present to an old lady, without any reward; and what is done without any reward comes like wounds to a soldier, very honourably notwithstanding.

MAYBERRY
This is my breeding gentlewoman and whither travel you?      [Kisses her.

KATE
To London, sir, as the old tale goes, to seek my fortune.

MAYBERRY
Shall I be your fortune, lady?

KATE
O, pardon me, sir.  I’ll have some young landed heir to be my fortune, for thy favour, she fools more then citizens.

MAYBERRY
Are you married?

KATE
Yes, but my husband is in garrison i’th’low countries, is the colonel’s bawd, and the captain’s jester.  He sent me word over that he will thrive, for though his apparel lie i’th’Lombard, he keeps his conscience i’th’muster book.

MAYBERRY
He may do his country good service, lady.

KATE
Ay, as many of your captains do that fight as the geese saved the capitol, only with prattling.  Well, well, if I were in some nobleman’s hand now, may be he would not take a thousand pounds for me.

MAYBERRY
No?

KATE
No, sir; and yet may be at year’s end would give me a brace of hundreth pounds to marry me to his bailey, or the solicitor of his law suits.  Who’s this, I beseech you?

Enter MISTRESS MAYBERRY, her hair loose, with the Hostess.

 HOSTESS
I pray you, forsooth, be patient.

BELLAMONT
Passion of my heart, Mistress Mayberry!                          [Exeunt Fiddlers.

GREENSHIELD
Now will she put some notable trick upon her cuckoldry husband.

MAYBERRY
Why how now, wife, what means this? ha?

WIFE
Well, I cam very well.  O, my unfortunate parents, would you had buried me quick when you link’d me to this misery!

MAYBERRY
O wife, be patient.  I have more cause to rail, wife.

WIFE
You have?  Prove it, prove it!  Where’s the courtier you should have ta’en in my bosom?  I’ll spit in gall in’s face that can tax me of any dishonour.  Have I lost the pleasure of mine eyes, the sweets of my youth, the wishes of my blood, and the portion of my friends to be thus dishonoured, to be reputed vil’d in London whilst my husband prepares common diseases for me at Ware?  Oh God, oh God!

BELLAMONT
Prettily well dissembled.

HOSTESS
[To MAYBERRY.] As I am true hostess, you are to blame, sir!  What are you, mistress?  I’ll know what you are afore you depart, mistress.  Dost thou leave thy chamber in an honest inn to come and inveigle my customers?  And you had sent for me up and kiss’d me and used me like an hostess, ‘twould never have grieved me, but to do it to a stranger!

KATE
I’ll leave you, sir.

MAYBERRY
Stay, why how now, sweet gentlewoman?  Cannot I come forth to breathe myself, but I must be haunted?  [Aside.] Rail upon old Bellamont, that he may discover them.  [Aloud.] You remember Featherstone, Greenshield?

WIFE
I remember them, I.  There are two as coging, dishonourable, damn’d, forsworn, beggarly gentlemen as are all in London, and there’s a reverent old gentleman too; you pander in my conscience!

BELLAMONT
Lady, I will not as the old gods were wont, swear by the infernal Styx, but by all the mingled wine in the cellar beneath, and the smoke of tobacco that hath fumed over the vessels, I did not procure your husband this banqueting dish of sucket.  Look you, behold the parenthesis.                                            [Discovers GREENSHIELD.

HOSTESS
Nay, I’ll see your face too.                                               [Unmasks KATE.

KATE
My dear unkind husband.  I protest to thee I have play’d this knavish part only to be witty.

GREENSHIELD
That I might be presently turned into a matter more solid then horn, into marble.

BELLAMONT
Your husband, gentlewoman!  Why, he never was a soldier.

KATE
Ay, but a lady got him prick’d for a captain.  I warrant you, he will answer to the name of captain, though he be none.  Like a lady that will not think scorn to answer to the name of her first husband, though he wear a soap-boiler.

GREENSHIELD
Hang of thee, devil; away!

KATE
[Sings.] No, no, you fled me t’other day,
When I was with child you ran away,
But since I have caught you now…

GREENSHIELD
A pox of your wit and your singing!

BELLAMONT
Nay, look you, sir, she must sing because we’ll be merry;
[Sings.]What though you rode not five mile forward,
You have found that fatal house at Brainford northward.
O, hone, no, no, na, ne, ro!

GREENSHIELD
God refuse me, gentlemen!  You may laugh and be merry; but I am a cuckold and I think you knew of it.  Who lay i’th’segs with you to-night, wild duck?

KATE
Nobody with me, as I shall be saved.  But, Master Featherstone came to meet me as far as Royston.

GREENSHIELD
Featherstone!

MAYBERRY
See, the hawk that first stoop’d my pheasant is kill’d by the spaniel that first sprang all of our side, wife.

BELLAMONT
‘Twas a pretty wit of you, sir, to have had him rod into Puckridge with a horn before him, ha, was’t not?

GREENSHIELD
Good.

BELLAMONT
Or where a citizen keeps his house, you know ‘tis not as a gentleman keeps his chamber for debt, but as you said even now very wisely, lest his horns should usher him.

GREENSHIELD
Very good.  Featherstone, he comes.

Enter FEATHERSTONE.

 FEATHERSTONE
Luke Greenshield, Master Mayberry, old poet, Moll, and Kate, most happily encounter’d!  Ud’s life! how came you hither?  By my life, the man looks pale!

GREENSHIELD
You are a villain and I’ll mak’d good upon you.  I am no servingman to feed upon your reversion.

FEATHERSTONE
Go to the ordinary then.

BELLAMONT
This is his ordinary, sir, and in this she is like a London ordinary; her best getting comes by the box.

GREENSHIELD
You are a damn’d villain.

FEATHERSTONE
Oh, by no means.

GREENSHIELD
No, Ud’s life! I’ll go instantly take a purse, be apprehended and hang’d for’t better than be a cuckold!

FEATHERSTONE
But first, make your confession, sirrah.

GREENSHIELD
’Tis this:  thou hast not used me like a gentleman.

FEATHERSTONE
A gentleman!  Thou a gentleman!  Thou a tailor!

BELLAMONT
‘Ware peaching.

FEATHERSTONE
No, sirrah, if you will confess aught, tell how thou hast wronged that virtuous gentlewoman; how thou layest at her two year together to make her dishonest; how thou wouldst send me thither with letters, how duly thou wouldst watch the citizens’ wives vacation, whish is twice a day; namely the exchange time, twelve at noon and six at night, and where she refused thy importunity, and vowed to tell her husband; thou wouldst fall down upon thy knees and entreat her for the love of Heaven, if not to ease thy violent affection, at least to conceal it, to which her pity and simple virtue consented; how thou tookest her wedding ring from her, met these two gentlemen at Ware, fained a quarrel, and the rest is apparent.  This only remains:  what wrong the poor gentlewoman hast since received by our intolerable lie; I am most heartily sorry for, and to thy bosom will maintain all I have said to be honest.

MAYBERRY
Victory, wife; thou art quit by proclamation.

BELLAMONT
Sir, you are an honest man; I have known an arrant thief for peaching made an officer.  Give me your hand, sir.

KATE
Oh filthy, abominable husband!  Did you all this?

MAYBERRY
Certainly, he is no captain; he blushes.

WIFE
Speak, sir, did you ever know me answer your wishes?

GREENSHIELD
You are honest, very virtuously honest.

WIFE
I will then no longer be a loose woman; I have at my husband’s pleasure ta’en upon me this habit of jealousy.  I’m sorry for you.  Virtue glories not in the spoil, but in the victory.

BELLAMONT
How say you by that goodly sentence; look you, sir, you gallants visit citizen’s houses, as the Spaniard first sailed to the Indies, you pretend buying of wares or selling of lands, but the end proves ‘tis nothing but for discovery and conquest of their wives for better maintenance.  Why, look you, was he aware of those broken patience when you met him at Ware and possess’d him of the downfall of his wife?  You are a cuckold, you have pander’d you own wife to this gentleman; better men have done it; honest Tom (…); we have precedents for’t.  Hie you to London.  What is more Catholic i’th’ city then for husbands daily for to forgive the nightly sins of their bedfellows.  If you like not that course but do intend to be rid of her, rifle her at a tavern where you may swallow down some fifty wiseacres sons and heirs to old tenements and common gardens, like so many raw yolks with muskadine to bedward.

KATE
O filthy knave!  Dost compare a woman of my carriage to a horse?

BELLAMONT
And no disparagement, for a woman to have a high forehead, a quick ear, a full eye, a wide nostril, a sleek skin, a straight back, a round hip, and so forth, is most comely.

KATE
But is a great belly comely in a horse, sir?

BELLAMONT
No, lady.

KATE
And what think you of it in a woman, I pray you?

BELLAMONT
Certainly I am put down at my own weapon.  I therefore recant the rifling.  No, there is a new trade come up for the cast gentlewomen of periwig making.  Let your wife set up i’th’ Strand, and yet I doubt whether she may or no, for they say the women have got it to be a corporation; if you can you may make good use of it, for you shall have as good a coming in by hair, though it be but a falling commodity, and by other foolish tiring, as any between Saint Clements and Charing.

FEATHERSTONE
Now you have run yourself out of breath.  Hear me:  I protest the gentlewoman is honest, and since I have wrong’d her reputation in meeting her thus privately, I’ll maintain her.  Wilt thou hand at my purse, Kate, like a pair of barbary buttons, to open with ‘tis full, and close when ‘tis empty?

KATE
I’ll be divorc’d by this Christian element, and because thou thinkst thou art a cuckold, lest I should make thee an infidel in causing thee to believe an untruth I’ll make thee a cuckold.

BELLAMONT
Excellent wench!

FEATHERSTONE
Come, let’s go, sweet.  The nag I ride upon bears a double.  We’ll to London.

MAYBERRY
Do not bite your thumbs, sir.

KATE
Bite his thumb!
[Sings.] I’ll make him do a thing worse than this,
Come love me where as I lay.

FEATHERSTONE
What, Kate!

KATE
[Sings.] He shall father a child is none of his,
O, the clean contrary way!

FEATHERSTONE
O, lusty Kate!                                       [Exeunt FEATHERSTONE and KATE.

MAYBERRY
Methought he said even now you were a tailor.

GREENSHIELD
You shall hear more of that hereafter.  I’ll make Ware and him stink ere he goes; if I be a tailor, the rogue’s naked weapon shall not fright me; I’ll beat him and my wife both out a’ the town with a tailor’s yard!                                       [Exit.

MAYBERRY
O, valiant Sir Tristram!  Room there.

Enter PHILIP, LEVERPOOL, and CHARTLEY.

 PHILIP
News, father, most strange news out of the low countries; your good lady and mistress that set you to work upon a dozen of cheese-trenchers is now lighted at the next inn, and the old venerable gentleman her father with her.

BELLAMONT
Let the gates of our inn be lock’d up closer than a nobleman’s gate at dinner time.

OMNES
Why, sir, why?

BELLAMONT
If she enter here the house will be infected; the plague is not half so dangerous as a she-hornet.  Philip, this is your shuffling a’ the cards, to turn up her for the bottom card at Ware.

PHILIP
No, as I’m virtuous, sir, ask the two gentlemen.

LEVERPOOL
No, in troth, sir, she told us that inquiring at London for you or your son your man chalk’d out her way to Ware.

BELLAMONT
I would Ware might choke ‘em both!  Master Mayberry, my horse and I will take our leaves of you.  I’ll to Bedlam again rather than stay her.

MAYBERRY
Shall a woman make thee fly thy country?  Stay, stand to her though she were greater than Pope Joan.  What are thy brains conjuring for, my poetical bay leaf eater?

BELLAMONT
For a sprite a’ the butt’ry that shall make us all drink with mirth if I can raise it.  Stay, the chicken is not fully hatch’d; hit, I beseech thee.  So, come, will you be secret, gentlemen, and assisting?

OMNES
With brown bills, if you think good.

BELLAMONT
What will you say if by some trick we put this little hornet into Featherstone’s bosom and marry ‘em together?

OMNES
Fuh!  ‘Tis impossible!

BELLAMONT
Most possible.  I’ll to my trencher woman, let me alone for dealing with her.  Featherstone, gentlemen, shall be your patient.

OMNES
How?  How?

BELLAMONT
Thus:  I will close with this country peddler, Mistress Dorothy, that travels up and down to exchange pins for cunny-skins, very lovingly; she shall eat nothing but sweetmeats in my company, good words, whose taste when she likes, as I know she will.  Then will I play upon her with this Artillery, that a very proper man and a great hare, naming Featherstone, spied her from a window when she lighted at her inn, is extremely in love with her, vows to make her his wife, if it stand to her good liking, even in Ware; but being, as most of your young gentlemen are, somewhat bashful and asham’d to venture upon a woman.

MAYBERRY
City and suburbs can justify it, so, sir.

BELLAMONT
He sends me, being an old friend, to undermine for him.  I’ll so whet the wench’s stomach and make her so hungry that she shall have an appetite to him, fear it not.  Greenshield shall have a hand in it too, and to be reveng’d of his partner, will, I know, strike with any weapon.

LEVERPOOL
But is Featherstone of any means? else you undo him and her.

MAYBERRY
He has land between Foolham and London; he would have made it over to me.  To your charge, poet, give you the assault upon her and sent but Featherstone to me; I’ll hang him by the gills.

BELLAMONT
He’s not yet horse’d, sure.  Philip, go thy ways, give fire to him and send him hither with a powder presently.

PHILIP
He’s blown up already                                                                       [Exit.

BELLAMONT
Gentlemen, you’ll stick to the device and look to your plot?

OMNES
Most poetically.  Away to your quarter.

BELLAMONT
I march.  I cast my rider, gallants.  I hope you see who shall pay for our voyage.                                                              [Exit.

Enter PHILIP and FEATHERSTONE.

 MAYBERRY
That must he that comes here.  Master Featherstone, O Master Featherstone, you may now make your fortunes weigh ten stone of feathers more than ever they did.  Leap but into the saddle now that stands empty for you; you are made for ever.

LEVERPOOL
[Aside.] An ass, I’ll be sworn.

FEATHERSTONE
How, for God’s sake, how?

MAYBERRY
I would you had what I could wish you.  I love you, and because you shall be sure to know where my love dwells, look you, sir, it hands out at this sign.  You shall pray for Ware, when Ware is dead and rotten.  Look you, sir, there is as pretty a little pinnace struck sail hereby and come in lately.  She’s my kinswoman, my father’s youngest sister; a ward, her portion three thousand; her hopes if her grannam die without issue, better.

FEATHERSTONE
Very good, sir.

MAYBERRY
Her guardian goes about to marry her to a stone cutter, and rather than she’ll be subject to such a fellow, she’ll die a martyr.  Will you have all our?  She’s run away, is here at an inn i’th’town.  What parts so ever you have play’d with me, I see good parts in you, and if you now will catch time’s hair that’s put into your hand, you shall clap her up presently.

FEATHERSTONE
Is she young?  And a pretty wench?

LEVERPOOL
Few citizens’ wives are like her.

PHILIP
Young, why I warrant sixteen hath scarce gone over her.

FEATHERSTONE
‘Sfoot, where is she?  If I like her personage as well as I like that which you say belongs to her personage, I’ll stand thrumming of caps no longer, but board your pinnace whilst ‘tis hot.

MAYBERRY
Away then with these gentlemen with a French gallop and to her; Philip here shall run for a priest and dispatch you.

FEATHESTONE
Will you gallants go along? We may be married in a chamber for fear of hue and cry after her and some of the company shall keep the door.

MAYBERRY
Assure your soul she will be followed; away therefore!

[Exeunt FEATHERSTONE, PHILIP, LEVERPOOL, and CHARTLEY.]

He’s in the Curtian’s gulf and swallowed horse and man.  He will have some body keep the door for him, she’ll look to that.  I am younger then I was two nights ago for this physic.  How now?

Enter CAPTAIN JENKINS, ALLUM, HANS, and others booted.

 CAPTAIN
God pless you; is there not an arrant scurvy trab in your company that is a sentlewoman born, sir, and can tawg Welch and Dutch and any tongue in your head?

MAYBERRY
How so?  Drabs in my company?  Do I look like a drab-driver?

CAPTAIN
The trab will drive you , if she put you before her, into a pench-hole.

ALLUM
Is not a gentleman here, one Master Bellamont, sir, of your company?

MAYBERRY
Yes, yes.  Come you from London?  He’ll be here presently.

CAPTAIN
Will he? Tawsone, this’ oman hunts at his tail like your little goats in Wales follow their mother; we have warrants here from master sustice of this shire to show no pity nor mercy to her; her name is Doll.

MAYBERRY
Why, sir, what has she committed?  I think such a creature is i’th’town.

CAPTAIN
What has she committed!  ‘Ounds! She has committed more then manslaughters for she has committed herself, God pless us to everlasting prison!  Lug you, sir, she is a punk, she shifts her lovers, as captains and Welsh gentlemen and such, as she does her trenchers when she has well fed upon’t, and that there is left nothing but pare bones, she calls for a clean one and scraps away the first.

Enter BELLAMONT and HORNET, with DOLL between them,
FEATHERSTONE, GREENSHIELD, KATE, MAYBERRY’s Wife,
PHILIP, LEVERPOOL and CHARTLEY.

 MAYBERRY
God’s so, Master Featherstone, what will you do?  Here’s three come from London to fetch away the gentlewoman with a warrant.

FEATHERSTONE
All the warrants in Europe shall not fetch her now; she’s mine sure enough.  What have you to say to her?  She’s my wife.

CAPTAIN
Ow!  ‘Sblood, do you come so far to fish and catch frogs?  Your wife is a tilt-boat; any man or ‘oman may go in her for money.  She’s a cunny-catcher.  Where is my moveable goods call’d a coach, and my two wild peasts.  Pogs on you!  Would they had trawn you to the gallows.

ALLUM
I must borrow fifty pounds of you, Mistress Bride.

HANS
Yaw, vro, and you make me de geck, de groet fool, you heb mine gelt, too; war is it?

DOLL
Out, you base scums.  Come you to disgrace me in my wedding shoes?

FEATHERSTONE
Is this your three thousand pound ward?  Ye told me, sir, she was your kinswoman.

MAYBERRY
Right, one of mine aunts.

BELLAMONT
Who pays for the northern voyage now, lads?

GREENSHIELD
Why do you not ride before my wife to London now?  The woodcock’s i’th’springe.

KATE
O, forgive me, dear husband!  I will never love a man that is worse than hang’d, as he is.

MAYBERRY
Now a man may have a course in your park.

FEATHERSTONE
He may, sir.

DOLL
Never, I protest.  I will be as true to thee as Ware and Wade’s-mill are one to another.

FEATHERSTONE
Well, it’s but my fate.  Gentlemen, this is my opinion:  it’s better to shoot in a bow that has been shot in before and will never start than to draw a fair new one that for every arrow will be warping.  Come wench, we are join’d, and all the dogs in France shall not part us.  I have some lands, those I’ll turn into money to pay you, and you, and any.  I’ll pay all that I can for thee, for I’m sure thou hast paid me.

OMNES
God give you joy!

MAYBERRY
Come, let’s be merry!  [To GREENSHIELD.] Lie with your own wife, to be sure she shall not walk in her sleep.  A noise of musicians, chamberlain.
This night let’s banquet freely; come, we’ll dare,
Our wives to combat i’th’ great bed in Ware.                                [Exeunt.

F I N I S.

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