John Fletcher - The Scornful Lady

Young Lo . Why now thou art a loving stinkard. Fire off thy Annotations and thy Rent-books, thou hast a weak brain Savil , and with the next long Bill thou wilt run mad. Gentlemen, you are once more welcome to three hundred pounds a year; we will be freely merry, shall we not?

Capt . Merry as mirth and wine, my lovely Loveless .

Poet . A serious look shall be a Jury to excommunicate any man from our company.

Tra . We will not talk wisely neither?

Young Lo . What think you Gentlemen by all this Revenue in Drink?

Capt . I am all for Drink.

Tra . I am dry till it be so.

Poet . He that will not cry Amen to this, let him live sober, seem wise, and dye o'th' Coram .

Young Lo . It shall be so, we'l have it all in Drink, let Meat and Lodging go, they are transitory, and shew men meerly mortal: then we'l have Wenches, every one his Wench, and every week a fresh one: we'l keep no powdered flesh: all these we have by warrant, under the title of things necessary. Here upon this place I ground it, The obedience of my people, and all necessaries: your opinions Gentlemen?

Capt . 'Tis plain and evident that he meant Wenches.

Sav . Good Sir let me expound it?

Capt . Here be as sound men, as your self Sir.

Poet . This do I hold to be the interpretation of it: In this word Necessary, is concluded all that be helps to Man; Woman was made the first, and therefore here the chiefest.

Young Lo . Believe me 'tis a learned one; and by these words, The obedience of my people, you Steward being one, are bound to fetch us Wenches.

Capt . He is, he is.

Young Lo . Steward, attend us for instructions.

Sav . But will you keep no house Sir?

Young Lo . Nothing but drink Sir, three hundred pounds in drink.

Sav . O miserable house, and miserable I that live to see it! Good Sir keep some meat.

Young Lo . Get us good Whores, and for your part, I'le board you in an Alehouse, you shall have Cheese and Onions.

Sav . What shall become of me, no Chimney smoaking? Well Prodigal, your Brother will come home.

[ Exit .

Young Lo . Come Lads, I'le warrant you for Wenches, three hundred pounds in drink.

[ Exeunt omnes .

Enter Lady, her Sister Martha, Welford, Younglove, and others .

Lady . Sir, now you see your bad lodging, I must bid you good night.

Wel . Lady if there be any want, 'tis in want of you.

Lady . A little sleep will ease that complement. Once more good night.

Wel . Once more dear Lady, and then all sweet nights.

Lady . Dear Sir be short and sweet then.

Wel . Shall the morrow prove better to me, shall I hope my sute happier by this nights rest?

Lady . Is your sute so sickly that rest will help it? Pray ye let it rest then till I call for it. Sir as a stranger you have had all my welcome: but had I known your errand ere you came, your passage had been straiter. Sir, good night.

Welford . So fair, and cruel, dear unkind good night. [ Exit Lady. Nay Sir, you shall stay with me, I'le press your zeal so far.

Roger . O Lord Sir.

Wel . Do you love Tobacco ?

Rog . Surely I love it, but it loves not me; yet with your reverence I'le be bold.

Wel . Pray light it Sir. How do you like it?

Rog . I promise you it is notable stinging geer indeed. It is wet Sir, Lord how it brings down Rheum!

Wel . Handle it again Sir, you have a warm text of it.

Rog . Thanks ever promised for it. I promise you it is very powerful, and by a Trope, spiritual; for certainly it moves in sundry places.

Wel . I, it does so Sir, and me especially to ask Sir, why you wear a Night-cap.

Rog . Assuredly I will speak the truth unto you: you shall understand Sir, that my head is broken, and by whom; even by that visible beast the Butler.

Wel . The Butler? certainly he had all his drink about him when he did it. Strike one of your grave Cassock? The offence Sir?

Rog . Reproving him at Tra-trip Sir, for swearing; you have the total surely.

Wel . You told him when his rage was set a tilt, and so he crackt your Canons. I hope he has not hurt your gentle reading: But shall we see these Gentlewomen to night.

Rog . Have patience Sir until our fellow Nicholas be deceast, that is, asleep: for so the word is taken: to sleep to dye, to dye to sleep, a very figure Sir.

Wel . Cannot you cast another for the Gentlewomen?

Rog . Not till the man be in his bed, his grave: his grave, his bed: the very same again Sir. Our Comick Poet gives the reason sweetly; Plenus rimarum est , he is full of loope-holes, and will discover to our Patroness.

Wel . Your comment Sir has made me understand you.

Enter Martha the Ladies Sister , and Younglove, to them with a Posset .

Rog . Sir be addrest, the graces do salute you with the full bowl of plenty. Is our old enemy entomb'd?

Abig . He's safe.

Rog . And does he snore out supinely with the Poet?

Mar . No, he out-snores the Poet.

Wel . Gentlewoman, this courtesie shall bind a stranger to you, ever your servant.

Mar . Sir, my Sisters strictness makes not us forget you are a stranger and a Gentleman.

Abig . In sooth Sir, were I chang'd into my Lady, a Gentleman so well indued with parts, should not be lost.

Wel . I thank you Gentlewoman, and rest bound to you. See how this foul familiar chewes the Cud: From thee, and three and fifty good Love deliver me.

Mar . Will you sit down Sir, and take a spoon?

Wel . I take it kindly, Lady.

Mar . It is our best banquet Sir.

Rog . Shall we give thanks?

Wel . I have to the Gentlewomen already Sir.

Mar . Good Sir Roger , keep that breath to cool your part o'th' Posset, you may chance have a scalding zeal else; and you will needs be doing, pray tell your twenty to your self. Would you could like this Sir?

Wel . I would your Sister would like me as well Lady.

Mar . Sure Sir, she would not eat you: but banish that imagination; she's only wedded to her self, lyes with her self, and loves her self; and for another Husband than herself, he may knock at the gate, but ne're come in: be wise Sir, she's a Woman, and a trouble, and has her many faults, the least of which is, she cannot love you.

Abig . God pardon her, she'l do worse, would I were worthy his least grief, Mistris Martha .

Wel . Now I must over-hear her.

Mar . Faith would thou hadst them all with all my heart; I do not think they would make thee a day older.

Abig . Sir, will you put in deeper, 'tis the sweeter.

Mar . Well said old sayings.

Wel . She looks like one indeed. Gentlewoman you keep your word, your sweet self has made the bottom sweeter.

Abig . Sir, I begin a frolick, dare you change Sir?

Wel . My self for you, so please you. That smile has turn'd my stomach: this is right the old Embleme of the Moyle cropping of Thistles: Lord what a hunting head she carries, sure she has been ridden with a Martingale. Now love deliver me.

Rog . Do I dream, or do I wake? surely I know not: am I rub'd off? Is this the way of all my morning Prayers? Oh Roger , thou art but grass, and woman as a flower. Did I for this consume my quarters in Meditation, Vowes, and wooed her in Heroical Epistles ? Did I expound the Owl, and undertook with labour and expence the recollection of those thousand Pieces, consum'd in Cellars, and Tabacco-shops of that our honour'd Englishman Ni. Br. ? Have I done this, and am I done thus too? I will end with the wise man, and say; He that holds a Woman, has an Eel by the tail.