WAN. Was the slave so eloquent in his malice?
CAPT. Yes, faith, and urged you (for your part) were never particular, and seldom sound.
WAN. Not sound! why, he offered to marry me, and swore he thought I was chaste, I was so particular; and proved it, that consent was full marriage by the first institution, and those that love and lie together, and tell, have fulfilled all ceremonies now.
CAPT. Did he offer to marry thee?
WAN. Yes, yes.
CAPT. If ever then I deserved from thee, or if thou be'st dear to thyself, as thou hast anything thou hop'st shall be safe or sound about thee, I conjure thee, take my counsel: marry him, to afflict him.
WAN. Marry him?
CAPT. If I have any power, I shall prevail. Thou know'st he has a fat benefice, and leave me to plague him till he give it me to be rid of thee.
WAN. Will you not keep me then?
CAPT. I keep thee! prythee, wilt thou keep me? I know not why men are such fools to pay: we bring as much to the sport as women.
Keep thee! I'd marry thee as soon; why, _that's wedding sin_: no, no keeping, I: that you are not your own, is all that prefers you before wives.
WAN. I hope this is not real.
CAPT. Art thou such a stranger to my humour? why, I tell thee I should hate thee if I could call thee mine, for I loathe all women within my knowledge; and 'tis six to four, if I knew thy sign, I'd come there no more. A strange mistress makes every night a new; and these are your pleasing sins. I had as lief be good, as sin by course.
WAN. Then I am miserable.
CAPT. Not so, if you'll be instructed, and let me pass like a stranger when you meet me.
WAN. But have you these humours?
CAPT. Yes, faith; yet, if you will observe them, though you marry him, I may perchance be your friend: but you must be sure to be coy; for to me the hunting is more pleasant than the quarry.[194]
WAN. But, if I observe this, will you be my friend hereafter?
CAPT. Firm as the day. Hark, I hear him [_The_ PARSON _calls within_.]; I knew he would follow me. I gave him a small touch that wakened his guilt. Resolve to endear yourself to him, which you may easily do by taking his part when I have vexed him. No dispute; resolve it, or, as I live, here I disclaim thee for ever.
WAN. 'Tis well; something I'll do.
[_Exit_ WANTON.
CAPT. Open the door, I say, and let me in: your favourite and his tithes shall come no more here.
_Enter_ PARSON.
PAR. Yes, but he shall; 'tis not you, nor your braced drum, shall fright me hence, who can command the souls of men. I have read divine Seneca: thou know'st nothing but the earthly part, and canst cry to that, Faces about.[195]
CAPT. Thou read Seneca! thou steal'st his cover to clothe thee, naked and wicked, that for money wouldst sell the share of the Twelve, and art allowed by all that know thee fitter to have been Judas than Judas was, for treachery.
PAR. Rail, do rail, my illiterate captain, that can only abuse by memory; and should I live till thou couldst read my sentence, I should never die.
CAPT. No, ungrateful, live till I destroy thee; and, thankless wretch, did all my care of thee deserve nothing but thy malice and treacherous speaking darkly still? with thy fine, _No, not he_, when any malicious discourse was made of me; and by thy false faint, _No, faith; confess_, in thy denials, whilst thy smiling excuses stood a greater and more dangerous evidence against me than my enemies' affidavits could have done.
PAR. I'll lie for never a lean soldier of you all.
CAPT. I have for thee, slave, when I have been wondered at for keeping company with such a face: but they were such as knew thee not; all which thy looks deceived, as they did me: they are so simple, they'd cosen a jury, and a judge that had wit would swear thou liedst, should thou confess what I know to be true, and award Bedlam for thee; 'tis so strange and so new a thing to find so much Rogue lodge at the sign of the Fool.
PAR. Leave this injurious language, or I'll lay off my cassock; for nothing shall privilege your bragger's tongue to abuse me, a gentleman, and a soldier ancienter than thyself.
CAPT. Yes, thou wert so: and now I think on't, I'll recount the cause which, it may be, thou hast forgot, through thy variety of sins. It was a hue-and-cry that followed thee a scholar, and found thee a soldier.
PAR. Thou liest: thou and Scandal have but one tongue; hers dwells with thy coward's teeth.
CAPT. O, do you rage? nay, I'll put the cause in print too: I am but a scurvy poet, yet I'll make a ballad shall tell how like a faithful disciple you followed your poor whore till her martyrdom in the suburbs.
PAR. I'll be revenged for this scandal.
CAPT. Then shall succeed thy flight from the university, disguised into captain, only the outside was worse buff, and the inside more atheist than they; furnished with an insolent faith, uncharitable heart, envious as old women, cruel and bloody as cowards: thus armed at all points, thou went'st out, threatening God, and trembling at men.
PAR. I'll be revenged, thou poor man of war, I'll be revenged.
_Enter_ WANTON.
WAN. And why so bitter? Whose house is this? Who dares tell this story?
CAPT. Why, sweet, hath he not treacherously broke into our cabinet, and would have stol'n thee thence? by these hilts, I'll hang him; and then I can conclude my ballad with _take warning, all Christian people, by the same_: I will, you lean slave; I'll prosecute thee, till thou art fain to hide in a servitor's gown again, and live upon crumbs with the robin redbreasts that haunt the hall (your old messmates). Do you snarl? I'll do't, I will, and put thee to fight with the dogs for the bones that but smell of meat--those that your hungry students have polished with their teeth.
WAN. If you do this, good captain, lieutenant, and company (for all your command, I think, is within your reach)--I say, if you dare do this, I shall sing a song of one that bad stand,[196] and made a carrier pay a dear rent for a little ground upon his majesty's highway.
CAPT. How now, Mistress Wanton! what's this? what's this?
PAR. This! 'tis matter for a jury; I'll swear, and positively.
I'll hang thee, I'll do't, by this hand: let me alone to swear the jury out of doubt.
CAPT. But you are in jest, Mistress Wanton, and will confess (I hope) this is no truth.
WAN. Yes, sir, as great a truth as that you are in your unpaid-for scarlet. Fool! didst think I'd quit such a friend and his staid fortune, to rely upon thy dead pay and hopes of a second covenant?
CAPT. His fortune! what is't? th' advowson of Tyburn deanery?
PAR. No, nor rents brought in by long staff-speeches, that ask alms with frowns, till thy looks and speech have laid violent hands upon men's charity.
WAN. Let him alone; I'll warrant, he'll never be indicted of drawing anything but his tongue against a man.
CAPT. Very good.
PAR. Dear Mistress Wanton, you have won my heart, and I shall live to doat upon you for abusing this impetuous captain. Will you listen to my old suit? will you marry me, and vex him? say, dare you do't without more dispute?
CAPT. 'Twas a good question; she that dares marry thee, dares do anything: she may as safely lie with the great bell upon her, and his clapper is less dangerous than thine.