A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 113

Y. LORD W. Never to marry! Peter, I pray bear witness of her words that, when I have attained her, it may add to my fame and conquest.

REB. Yes, indeed, an't like your lords.h.i.+p.

Y. LORD W. Nay, ye must think, Beck, I know how to woo; ye shall find no bashful university-man of me.

REB. Indeed, I think y' had ne'er that bringing up. Did you ever study, my lord?

Y. LORD W. Yes, faith, that I have, and, the last week too, three days and a night together.

REB. About what, I pray?

Y. LORD W. Only to find out why a woman, going on the right side of her husband in the daytime, should lie on his left side at night; and, as I am a lord, I never knew the meaning on't till yesterday. Malapert, my father's butler, being a witty jackanapes, told me why it was.

REB. By'r Lady, my lord, 'twas a shrewd study, and I fear hath altered the property of your good parts; for, I'll a.s.sure you, I loved you a fortnight ago far better.

Y. LORD W. Nay, 'tis all one, whether you do or no: 'tis but a little more trouble to bring ye about again; and no question, but a man may do't, I am he. 'Tis true, as your father said, the black ox hath not trod upon that foot of yours.

REB. No, but the white calf hath; and so I leave your lords.h.i.+p.

[_Exit_ REBECCA.

Y. LORD W. Well, go thy ways, th' art as witty a marmalade-eater as ever I conversed with. Now, as I am a lord, I love her better and better; I'll home and poetise upon her good parts presently. Peter, here's a preparative to my farther applications; and, Peter, be circ.u.mspect in giving me diligent notice what suitors seem to be peeping.

P. SER. I'll warrant you, my lord, she's your own; for I'll give out to all that come near her that she is betrothed to you; and if the worst come to the worst, I'll swear it.

Y. LORD W. Why, G.o.damercy; And if ever I do gain my request, Thou shalt in braver clothes be shortly dress'd. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ OLD LORD WEALTHY, _solus_.

Have the fates then conspir'd, and quite bereft My drooping years of all the bless'd content That age partakes of, by the sweet aspect Of their well-nurtur'd issue; whose obedience, Discreet and duteous 'haviour, only lengthens The thread of age; when on the contrary, By rude demeanour and their headstrong wills, That thread's soon ravell'd out. O, why, Maria, Couldst thou abandon me now at this time, When my grey head's declining to the grave?

Could any masculine flatterer on earth So far bewitch thee to forget thyself, As now to leave me? did nature solely give thee me, As my chief, inestimable treasure, Whereby my age might pa.s.s in quiet to rest; And art thou prov'd to be the only curse, Which heav'n could throw upon mortality?

Yet I'll not curse thee, though I fear the fates Will on thy head inflict some punishment, Which I will daily pray they may withhold.

Although thy disobediency deserves Extremest rigour, yet I wish to thee Content in love, full of tranquillity.

_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY.

But see where stands my shame, whose indiscretion Doth seem to bury all the living honours Of all our ancestors; but 'tis the fates' decree, That men might know their weak mortality.

Y. LORD W. Sir, I cannot find my sister.

O. LORD W. I know thou canst not: 'twere too rare to see Wisdom found out by ignorance.

Y. LORD W. How, father! is it not possible that wisdom should be found out by ignorance? I pray, then, how do many magnificoes come by it?

O. LORD W. They buy it, son, as you had need to do.

Yet wealth without that may live more content Than wit's enjoyers can, debarr'd of wealth.

All pray for wealth, but I never heard yet Of any but one that e'er pray'd for wit.

He's counted wise enough in these vain times, That hath but means enough to wear gay clothes, And be an outside of humanity. What matters it a pin, How indiscreet soe'er a natural be, So that his wealth be great? that's it doth cause Wisdom in these days to give fools applause.

And when gay folly speaks, how vain soe'er, Wisdom must silent sit, and speech forbear.

Y. LORD W. Then wisdom must sit as mute as learning among many courtiers. But, father, I partly suspect that Carracus hath got my sister.

O. LORD W. With child, I fear, ere this.

Y. LORD W. By'r Lady, and that may be true. But, whether he has or no, it's all one: if you please, I'll take her from under his nose, in spite on's teeth, and ask him no leave.

O. LORD W. That were too headstrong, son; We'll rather leave them to the will of heaven, To fall or prosper; and though young Carracus Be but a gentleman of small revenues, Yet he deserves my daughter for his virtues: And, had I thought she could not be withdrawn From th' affecting of him, I had, ere this, Made them both happy by my free consent; Which now I wish I had granted, and still pray, If any have her, it may be Carracus.

Y. LORD W. Troth, and I wish so too; for, in my mind, he's a gentleman of a good house, and speaks true Latin.

O. LORD W. To-morrow, son, you shall ride to his house, And there inquire of your sister's being.

But, as you tender me and your own good, Use no rough language savouring of distaste, Or any uncivil terms.

Y. LORD W. Why, do you take me for a midwife?

O. LORD W. But tell young Carracus these words from me, That if he hath, with safeguard of her honour, Espons'd my daughter, that I then forgive His rash offence, and will accept of him In all the fatherly love I owe a child.

Y. LORD W. I am sure my sister will be glad to hear it, and I cannot blame her; for she'll then enjoy that with quietness which many a wench in these days does scratch for.

O. LORD W. Come, son, I'll write To Carracus, that my own hand may witness, How much I stand affected to his worth. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ HADDIT, _in his gay apparel, making him ready, and with him_ LIGHTFOOT.

HAD. By this light, coz, this suit does rarely! The tailor that made it may hap to be saved, an't be but for his good works: I think I shall be proud of 'em, and so I was never yet of any clothes.

LIGHT. How! not of your clothes? why then you were never proud of anything, for therein chiefly consisteth pride; for you never saw pride pictured but in gay attire.

HAD. True; but, in my opinion, pride might as well be portrayed in any other shape, as to seem to be an affecter of gallantry, being the causes thereof are so several and divers. As, some are proud of their strength, although that pride cost them the loss of a limb or two by over-daring; likewise, some are proud of their humour, although in that humour they be often knocked for being so; some are proud of their drink, although that liquid operation cause them to wear a nightcap three weeks after; some are proud of their good parts, although they never put them to better uses than the enjoying of a common strumpet's company, and are only made proud by the favour of a waiting-woman; others are proud----

LIGHT. Nay, I prythee, coz, enough of pride; but when do you intend to go yonder to Covetousness the usurer, that we may see how near your plot will take for the releasing of your mortgaged lands?

HAD. Why, now presently; and, if I do not accomplish my projects to a wished end, I wish my fortunes may be like some sc.r.a.ping tradesman, that never embraceth true pleasure till he be threescore and ten.

LIGHT. But say Hog's daughter, on whom all your hopes depend, by this be betrothed to some other.

HAD. Why, say she were; nay more, married to another, I would be ne'er the farther from effecting my intents. No, coz, I partly know her inward disposition; and, did I but only know her to be womankind, I think it were sufficient.

LIGHT. Sufficient for what?

HAD. Why, to obtain a grant of the best thing she had, chast.i.ty. Man, 'tis not here as 'tis with you in the country, not to be had without father's and mother's goodwill; no, the city is a place of more traffic, where each one learns by example of their elders to make the most of their own, either for profit or pleasure.

LIGHT. 'Tis but your misbelieving thoughts make you surmise so: if women were so kind, how haps you had not by their favours kept yourself out of the claws of poverty?

HAD. O, but, coz, can a s.h.i.+p sail without water? had I had but such a suit as this to set myself afloat, I would not have feared sinking. But come, no more of need; now to the usurer: and though

All hopes do fail, a man can want no living, So long as sweet desire reigns in women.

LIGHT. But then yourself must able be in giving. [_Exeunt._