SCAR. I will not lie with her.
ILF. _Caeteri volunt_, she'll say still; If you will not, another will.
SCAR. Why did she marry me, knowing I did not love her?
ILF. As other women do, either to be maintained by you, or to make you a cuckold. Now, sir, what come you for?
_Enter_ CLOWN.
CLOWN. As men do in haste, to make an end of their business.
ILF. What's your business?
CLOWN. My business is this, sir--this, sir--and this, sir.
ILF. The meaning of all this, sir?
CLOWN. By this is as much as to say, sir, my master has sent unto you; by this is as much as to say, sir, my master has him humbly commended unto you; and by this is as much as to say, my master craves your answer.
ILF. Give me your letter, and you shall have this, sir, this, sir, and this, sir. [_Offers to strike him_.
CLOWN. No, sir.
ILF. Why, sir?
CLOWN. Because, as the learned have very well instructed me, _Qui supra nos, nihil ad nos_, and though many gentlemen will have to do with other men's business, yet from me know the most part of them prove knaves for their labour.
WEN. You ha' the knave, i'faith, Frank.
CLOWN. Long may he live to enjoy it. From Sir John Harcop, of Harcop, in the county of York, Knight, by me his man, to yourself my young master, by these presents greeting.
ILF. How cam'st thou by these good words?
CLOWN. As you by your good clothes, took them upon trust, and swore I would never pay for them.
SCAR. Thy master, Sir John Harcop, writes to me, That I should entertain thee for my man.
His wish is acceptable; thou art welcome, fellow.
O, but thy master's daughter sends an article, Which makes me think upon my present sin; Here she remembers me to keep in mind My promis'd faith to her, which I ha' broke.
Here she remembers me I am a man, Black'd o'er with perjury, whose sinful breast Is charactered like those curst of the blest.
ILF. How now, my young bully, like a young wench, forty weeks after the loss of her maidenhead, crying out.
SCAR. Trouble me not. Give me pen, ink, and paper; I will write to her. O! but what shall I write In mine excuse?[366] why, no excuse can serve For him that swears, and from his oath doth swerve.
Or shall I say my marriage was enforc'd?
'Twas bad in them; not well in me to yield: Wretched they two, whose marriage was compell'd.
I'll only write that which my grief hath bred: Forgive me, Clare, for I am married: 'Tis soon set down, but not so soon forgot Or worn from hence-- Deliver it unto her, there's for thy pains.
Would I as soon could cleanse these perjur'd stains!
CLOWN. Well, I could alter mine eyes from filthy mud into fair water: you have paid for my tears, and mine eyes shall prove bankrouts, and break out for you. Let no man persuade me: I will cry, and every town betwixt Shoreditch Church and York Bridge shall bear me witness.
[_Exit_.
SCAR. Gentlemen, I'll take my leave of you, She that I am married to, but not my wife, Will London leave, in Yorkshire lead our life. [_Exit_.
ILF. We must not leave you so, my young gallant; we three are sick in state, and your wealth must help to make us whole again. For this saying is as true as old-- Strife nurs'd 'twixt man and wife makes such a flaw, How great soe'er their wealth, 'twill have a thaw.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _with his daughter_ CLARE, _and two younger brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW.
HAR. Brothers to him ere long shall be my son By wedding this young girl: you are welcome both.
Nay, kiss her, kiss her; though that she shall be Your brother's wife, to kiss the cheek is free.
THOM. Kiss, 'sfoot, what else? thou art a good plump wench, I like you well; prythee, make haste and bring store of boys; but be sure they have good faces, that they may call me uncle.
JOHN. Glad of so fair a sister, I salute you.
HAR. Good, good, i' faith, this kissing's good, i' faith, I lov'd to smack it too when I was young, But mum: they have felt thy cheek, Clare, let them hear thy tongue.
CLARE. Such welcome as befits my Scarborow's brothers, From me his trothplight wife be sure to have, And though my tongue prove scant in any part, The bounds be sure are full large[367] in my heart.
THOM. Tut, that's not that we doubt on, wench; but do you hear, Sir John? what do you think drew me from London and the Inns of Court thus far into Yorkshire?
HAR. I guess, to see this girl shall be your sister.
THOM. Faith, and I guess partly so too, but the main was--and I will not lie to you--that, your coming now in this wise into our kindred, I might be acquainted with you aforehand, that after my brother had married your daughter, I his brother might borrow some money of you.
HAR. What, do you borrow of your kindred, sir?
THOM. 'Sfoot, what else? they, having interest in my blood, why should I not have interest in their coin? Besides, sir, I, being a younger brother, would be ashamed of my generation if I would not borrow of any man that would lend, especially of my affinity, of whom I keep a calendar. And look you, sir, thus I go over them. First o'er my uncles: after, o'er mine aunts: then up to my nephews: straight down to my nieces: to this cousin Thomas and that cousin Jeffrey, leaving the courteous claw given to none of their elbows, even unto the third and fourth remove of any that hath interest in our blood. All which do, upon their summons made by me, duly and faithfully provide for appearance.
And so, as they are, I hope we shall be, more entirely endeared, better and more feelingly acquainted.[368]
HAR. You are a merry gentleman.
THOM. 'Tis the hope of money makes me so; and I know none but fools use to be sad with it.
JOHN. From Oxford am I drawn from serious studies, Expecting that my brother still hath sojourn'd With you, his best of choice, and this good knight.
HAR. His absence shall not make our hearts less merry, Than if we had his presence. A day ere long Will bring him back, when one the other meets, At noon i'th' church, at night between the sheets.
We'll wash this chat with wine. Some wine! fill up; The sharp'ner of the wit is a full cup.
And so to you, sir.
THOM. Do, and I'll drink to my new sister; but upon this condition, that she may have quiet days, little rest o' nights, have pleasant afternoons, be pliant to my brother, and lend me money, whensoe'er I'll borrow it.
HAR. Nay, nay, nay.
Women are weak, and we must bear with them: Your frolic healths are only fit for men.
THOM. Well, I am contented; women must to the wall, though it be to a feather-bed. Fill up, then. [_They drink_.