GERA. Nay, I prythee, be not thus unseasonable: Without thee we are nothing.
W. RASH. By my troth, and I think so too. You love one another in the way of matrimony, do you not?
GERA. What else, man?
W. RASH. What else, man? Why, 'tis a question to be asked; for I can assure you, there is another kind of love. But come, follow me; I must be your good angel still: 'tis in this brain how to prevent my father and his brace of beagles; you shall none of you be bid to-night: follow but my direction, if I bring you not, _To have and to hold, for better for worse_, let me be held an eunuch in wit, and one that was never father to a good jest.
GERT. We'll be instructed by you.
W. RASH. Well, if you be, it will be your own another day.
Come, follow me.
[SPENDALL _meets them, and they look strangely upon him, and go off_.
SPEND. How ruthless men are to adversity!
My acquaintance scarce will know me; when we meet, They cannot stay to talk, they must be gone, And shake me by the hand as if I burnt them.
A man must trust unto himself, I see; For if he once but halt in his estate, Friendship will prove but broken crutches to him.
Well, I will lean to none of them, but stand Free of myself: and if I had a spirit Daring to act what I am prompted to, I might thrust out into the world again, Full-blossom'd, with a sweet and golden spring.
It was an argument of love in her To fetch me out of prison; and this night She clasp'd my hand in hers, as who should say, Thou art my purchase, and I hold thee thus.
The worst is but repulse, if I attempt it.
I am resolv'd: my genius whispers to me, Go on, and win her; thou art young and active, Which she is apt to catch at; for there's nought That's more unsteadfast than a woman's thought. [_Exit._
_Enter_ SIR LIONEL, WILL RASH, SCATTERGOOD, BUBBLE, WIDOW, GERTRUDE, JOYCE, PHILLIS, _and_ SERVANT.
SIR LIONEL. Here's ill-lodging, widow; but you must know, If we had better, we'd afford it you.
WID. The lodging, sir, might serve better guests.
SIR LIONEL. Not better, widow, nor yet welcomer: But we will leave you to it and the rest.
Phillis, pray let your mistress not want anything.
Once more, good night; I'll leave a kiss with you, As earnest of a better gift to-morrow.
Sirrah, a light.
WID. Good rest to all.
BUB. _Et tu quoque_, forsooth.
SCAT. God give you good night, forsooth, And send you an early resurrection.
WID. Good night to both.
SIR LIONEL. Come, come away, each bird unto his nest; To-morrow night's a time of little rest.
[_Exeunt. Manent_ WIDOW _and_ PHILLIS.
WID. Here, untie: soft, let it alone; I have no disposition to sleep yet: Give me a book, and leave me for a while, Some half-hour hence look in to me.
PHIL. I shall, forsooth. [_Exit_ PHILLIS.
_Enter_ SPENDALL.
WID. How now! what makes this bold intrusion?
SPEND. Pardon me, lady, I have business to you.
WID. Business! from whom? Is it of such importance, That it craves present hearing?
SPEND. It does.
WID. Then speak it, and be brief.
SPEND. Nay, gentle widow, be more pliant to me: My suit is soft and courteous; full of love.
WID. Of love?
SPEND. Of love.
WID. Why, sure, the man is mad! bethink thyself; Thou hast forgot thy errand.
SPEND. I have indeed, fair lady; for my errand Should first have been deliver'd on your lips.
WID. Why, thou impudent fellow, unthrift of shame, As well as of thy purse. What has mov'd thee To prosecute thy ruin? hath my bounty, For which thy master was an orator, Importun'd thee to pay me with abuse?
Sirrah, retire, or I will, to your shame, With clamours raise the house, and make your master For this attempt return you to the dungeon, From whence you came.
SPEND. Nay, then I must be desperate: Widow, hold your clapdish,[215] fasten your tongue Unto your roof, and do not dare to call; But give me audience with fear and silence.
Come, kiss me--No?
This dagger has a point, do you see it?
And be unto my suit obedient, Or you shall feel it too: For I will rather totter, hang in clean linen, Than live to scrub it out in lousy linings.
Go to, kiss: you will! why, so: again, the third time; Good; 'tis a sufficient charm: now hear me.
You are rich in money, lands, and lordships, Manors and fair possessions, and I have not so much As one poor copyhold to thrust my head in.
Why should you not then have compassion Upon a reasonable handsome fellow, That has both youth and liveliness upon him, And can at midnight quicken and refresh Pleasures decay'd in you? You want children; And I am strong, lusty, and have a back Like Hercules; able to get them Without the help of muscadine and eggs, And will you then, that have enough, Take to your bed a bundle of diseases, Wrapp'd up in threescore years, to lie a-hawking, Spitting and coughing backwards and forwards, That you shall not sleep; but, thrusting forth Your face out of the bed, be glad to draw The curtains, such a steam shall reek Out of this dunghill? Now, what say you?
Shall we, without farther wrangling, clap it up, And go to bed together?
WID. Will you hear me?
SPEND. Yes, with all my heart, So the first word may be, untruss your points-- Zounds, one knocks; do not stir, I charge you, [_Knock within._ Nor speak, but what I bid you: For, by these lips which now in love I kiss, If you but struggle or but raise your voice, My arm shall rise with it, and strike you dead.
Go to, come on with me, and ask who's there!
WID. It is my maid.
SPEND. No matter; do as I bid you: say, who's there?
WID. Who's there?
PHIL. (_Within._) 'Tis I, forsooth.
SPEND. If it be you, forsooth, then pray you stay, Till I shall call upon you.
WID. [_Repeats._] If it be you, forsooth, then pray you stay, Till I shall call upon you.
SPEND. Very well: why, now I see Thou'lt prove an obedient wife. Come, let's undress.