Epi. [softly.] Judge you, forsooth. Mor. What say you, lady! Speak out, I beseech you. Epi. Judge you, forsooth. Mor. On my judgment, a divine softness! But can you naturally, lady, as I enjoin these by doctrine and industry, refer yourself to the search of my judgment, and, not taking pleasure in your tongue, which is a woman's chiefest pleasure, think it plausible to answer me by silent gestures, so long as my speeches jump right with what you conceive? [EPI. curtsies.] -Excellent! divine! if it were possible she should hold out thus -Peace, Cutbeard, thou art made for ever, as thou hast made me, if this felicity have lasting: but I will try her further. Dear lady, I am courtly, I tell you, and I must have mine ears banquetted with pleasant and witty conferences, pretty girds, scoffs, and dalliance in her that I mean to choose for my bed-phere. The ladies in court think it a most desperate impair to their quickness of wit, and good carriage, if they cannot give occasion for man to court 'em; and when an amorous discourse is set on foot, minister as good matter to continue it, as himself: And do you alone so much differ from all them, that what they, with so much circumstance, affect and toil for, to seem learn'd, to seem judicious, to seem sharp and conceited, you can bury in yourself with silence, and rather trust your graces to the fair conscience of virtue, than to the world's or your own proclamation? Epi. [softly.] I should be sorry else. Mor. What say you, lady good lady, speak out. Mor. That sorrow doth fill me with gladness. Morose, thou art happy above mankind! pray that thou mayest contain thyself. I will only put her to it once more, and it shall be with the utmost touch and test of ...3... their sex. But hear me, fair lady; I do also love to see her whom I shall choose for my heifer, to be the first and principal in all fashions, precede all the dames at court by a fortnight, have council of tailors, lineners, lace-women, embroiderers ; and sit with them sometimes twice a day upon French intelligences, and then come forth varied like nature, or oftener than she, and better by the help of art, her emulous servant. This do I affect and how will you be able, lady, with this frugality of speech, to give the manifold but necessary instructions, for that bodice, these sleeves, those skirts, this cut, that stitch, this embroidery, that lace, this wire, those knots, that ruff, those roses, this girdle, that fan, the t'other scarf, these gloves Ha! what say you, lady? Epi. [softly.] I'll leave it to you, sir. Mor. Admirable creature! I will trouble you no more: I will not sin against so sweet a simplicity. Let me now be bold to print on those divine lips the seal of being mine.-Cutbeard, I give thee the lease of thy house free; thank me not but with thy leg. [CUTBEARD shakes his head.]-I know what thou wouldst say, she's poor, and her friends deceased. She has brought a wealthy dowry in her silence, Cutbeard; and in respect of her poverty, Cutbeard, I shall have her more loving and obedient, Cutbeard. Go thy ways, and get me a minister presently, with a soft low voice, to marry us; and pray him he will not be impertinent, but brief as he can; away: softly, Cutbeard. [Exit CUT.]-Sirrah, conduct your mistress into the dining-room, your now mistress. [Exit MUTE, followed by EPI.1-0 my felicity! how shall I be revenged on mine insolent kinsman, and his plots to fright me from marrying! This night I will get an heir, and thrust him out of my blood, like a stranger. He would be knighted, forsooth, and thought by that means to reign over me; his title must do it: No, kinsman, I will now make you bring me the tenth lord's and the sixteenth lady's letter, kinsman; and it shall do you no good, kinsman. Your knighthood itself shall come on its knees, and it shall be rejected; it shall be sued for its fees to execution, and not be redeem'd; it shall cheat at the twelve-penny ordinary, it knighthood, for its diet, all the termtime, and tells tales for it in the vacation to the hostess; or it knighthood shall do worse, take sanctuary in Cole-harbour, and fast. It shall fright all it friends with borrowing letters; and when one of the fourscore hath brought it knighthood ten shillings, it knighthood shall go to the Cranes, or the Bear at the Bridgefoot, and be drunk in fear; it shall not have money to discharge one tavern-reckoning, to invite the old creditors to forbear it knighthood, or the new, that should be, to trust it knighthood. It shall be the tenth name in the bond to take up the commodity of pipkins and stone-jugs: and the part thereof shall not furnish it knighthood forth for the attempting of a baker's widow, a brown baker's widow. It shall give it knighthood's name for a stallion, to all gamesome citizens wives, and be refused, when the master of a dancing-school, or how do you call him, the worst reveller in the town is taken: it shall want clothes, and by reason of that, wit, to fool to lawyers. It shall not have hope to repair itself by Constantinople, Ireland, or Virginia; but the best and last fortune to it knighthood shall be to make Dol Tear-sheet, or Kate Common a lady, and so it knighthood may eat. [Exit. SCENE IV.-A Lane, near MOROSE's House. Enter TRUEWIT, DAUPHINE, and CLERIMONT. True. Are you sure he is not gone by? Daup. No, I staid in the shop ever since. Cler. But he may take the other end of the lane. Daup. No, I told him I would be here at this end: I appointed him hither. True. What a barbarian it is to stay then! Daup. Yonder he comes. Cler. And his charge left behind him, which is a very good sign, Dauphine. Enter CUTBEARD. Daup. How now, Cutbeard! succeeds it, or no? Cut. Past imagination, sir, omnia secunda; you could not have pray'd to have had it so well. Saltat senex, as it is in the proverb; he does triumph in his felicity, admires the party! he has given me the lease of my house too! and I am now going for a silent minister to marry them, and away. True. 'Slight! get one of the silenced ministers ; a zealous brother would torment him purely. Cut. Cum privilegio, sir. Daup. O, by no means; let's do nothing to hinder it now: when 'tis done and finished, I am for you, for any device of vexation. Cut. And that shall be my dexterity, gentlemen. mean time, bonis avibus. within this half hour, upon Contrive what you can in the Cler. How the slave doth Latin it! [Exit. True. It would be made a jest to posterity, sirs, this day's mirth, if ye will. Cler. Beshrew his heart that will not, I pronounce. Daup. And for my part. What is it? True. To translate all La-Foole's company, and his feast thither, to-day, to celebrate this bride-ale. Daup. Ay, marry; but how will't be done? True. I'll undertake the directing of all the ladyguests thither, and then the meat must follow. Cler. For God's sake, let's effect it; it will be an excellent comedy of affliction, so many several noises. Daup. But are they not at the other place, already, think you. True. I'll warrant you for the college-honours: one of their faces has not the priming colour laid on yet, nor the other her smock sleek'd. Cler. O, but they'll rise earlier than ordinary to a feast. True. Best go see, and assure ourselves. Cler. Who knows the house? True. I'll lead you: Were you never there yet? Cler. Nor I. True. Where have you lived then? not know Tom Otter ! Cler. No for God's sake, what is he? True. An excellent animal, equal with your Daw or La-Foole, if not transcendent; and does Latin it as much as your barber: He is his wife's subject; he calls her princess, and at such times as these follows her up and down the house like a page, with his hat off, partly for heat, partly for reverence. At this instant he is marshalling of his bull, bear, and horse. Daup. What be those, in the name of Sphynx? True. Why, sir, he has been a great man at the Beargarden in his time; and from that subtle sport has ta'en the witty denomination of his chief carousing cups. One he calls his bull, another his bear, another his horse. And then he has his lesser glasses, that he calls his deer |