Eug. That law's too long by nine years and a half, I'll take my death upon't, so shall most women. Clean. And those incontinent women so offending, to be judged and censured by Hippolita, wife to Cleanthes. Eug. Of all the rest, I'll not be judged by her. Re-enter HIPPOLITA. Clean. Ah! here she comes. Let me prevent thy joys, Prevent them but in part, and hide the rest; Clean. I fear'd it all this while; [best. I knew 'twas past thy power. Hippolita! Enter Fiddlers, GNOTHO, Courtezan, Cook, Butler, &c., with the old Women, AGATHA, and one bearing a bridecake for the wedding. Gnoth. Fiddlers, crowd on, crowd on; let no man lay a block in your way.-Crowd on, I say. Evan. Stay the crowd awhile; let's know the reason of this jollity. Clean. Sirrah, do you know where you are? Gnoth. Yes, sir: I am here, now here, and now here again, sir. Lys. Your hat is too high crown'd, the duke in presence. Gnoth. The duke! as he is my sovereign, I do give him two crowns for it, and that's equal change all the world over as I am lord of the day (being my marriage-day the second) I do advance my bonnet. Crowd on afore. Leon. Good sir, a few words, if you will vouchOr will you be forced? [safe them; Gnoth. Forced! I would the duke himself would say so. Evan. I think he dares, sir, and does; if you You shall be forced. [stay not, Gnoth. I think so, my lord, and good reason too; shall not I stay when your grace says I shall? I were unworthy to be a bridegroom in any part of your highness's dominions, then will it please you to taste of the wedlock-courtesy ? Evan. Oh, by no means, sir; you shall not deface so fair an ornament for me. Gnoth. If your grace please to be cakated, say so. Evan. And which might be your fair bride, sir? Gnoth. This is my two-for-one that must be the uxor uxoris, the remedy doloris, and the very syceum amoris. Evan. And hast thou any else? Gnoth. I have an older, my lord, for other uses. I do observe a strange decorum here: Do march with music and most mirthful cheeks; Nearer the haviour of a funeral, Than of a wedding. Evan. 'Tis true; pray expound that, sir. Gnoth. As the destiny of the day falls out, my lord, one goes to wedding, another goes to hanging; and your grace, in the due consideration, shall find them much alike; the one hath the ring upon her finger, the other the halter about her neck. I take thee, Beatrice, says the bridegroom; I take thee, Agatha, says the hangman; and both say together, to have and to hold, till death do part us. Evan. This is not yet plain enough to my understanding. Gnoth. If further your grace examine it, you shall find I shew myself a dutiful subject, and obedient to the law, myself, with these my good friends, and your good subjects, our old wives, whose days are ripe, and their lives forfeit to the law: only myself, more forward than the rest, am already provided of my second choice. Evan. Oh! take heed, sir, you'll run yourself into danger; If the law finds you with two wives at once, Gnoth. I have taken leave of the old, my lord. I have nothing to say to her; she's going to sea, your grace knows whither, better than I do; she has a strong wind with her, it stands full in her poop; when you please, let her disembogue. Cook. And the rest of her neighbours with her, whom we present to the satisfaction of your highness' law. Gnoth. And so we take our leaves, and leave them to your highness.-Crowd on. Evan. Stay, stay, you are too forward. Will And your wife yet living? [you marry, Gnoth. Alas! she'll be dead before we can get to church. If your grace would set her in the way, I would dispatch her: I have a venture on't, which would return me, if your highness would make a little more haste, two for one. Evan. Come, my lords, we must sit again ; Craves a most serious censure. [here's a case Cook. Now they shall be dispatch'd out of the way. Gnoth. I would they were gone once; the time goes away. Evan. Which is the wife unto the forward bride Aga. I am, an it please your grace. [groom? Evan. Trust me, a lusty woman, able-bodied, And well-blooded cheeks. Gnoth. Oh, she paints, my lord; she was a chambermaid once, and learn'd it of her lady. Evan. Sure I think she cannot be so old. Aga. Truly I think so too, an't please your grace. Gnoth. Two to one with your grace of that! she's threescore by the book. Leon. Peace, sirrah, you are too loud. Cook. Take heed, Gnotho: if you move the duke's patience, 'tis an edge-tool; but a word and a blow, he cuts off your head. Gnoth. Cut off my head! away, ignorant! he knows it cost more in the hair; he does not use to cut off many such heads as mine: I will talk to him too; if he cut off my head, I'll give him my ears. I say my wife is at full age for the law, the clerk shall take his oath, and the church-book shall be sworn too. SCENE I. THE OLD LAW. [ment, Evan. My lords, I leave this censure to you. Lys. Nay, to have it trebled; That even the day and instant when he should [mourn, He leads a triumph to the scorn of it; But. The fiddles will be in a foul case too, by Leon. Nay, further; it seems he has a venture Gnoth. A mess of wise old men ! Lys. Sirrah, what can you answer to all these? to sea to-morrow. [you, The law that should take away your old wife from Gnoth. I see your grace is disposed to be plea sant. [else Gnoth. I'll talk further with your grace when I come back from church; in the mean time, you know what to do with the old women. Evan. Yes, you might perceive that; I had not Thus dallied with your follies. Evan. Stay, sir, unless in the mean time you mean I cause a gibbet to be set up in your way, Aga. O gracious prince! Evan. Your old wives cannot die to-day by any Aga. O gracious prince! may he live a hundred years more. Cook. Your venture is not like to come in today, Gnotho. Gnoth. Give me the principal back. Cook. Nay, by my troth we'll venture still-and I'm sure we have as ill a venture of it as you; for we have taken old wives of purpose, that we had thought to have put away at this market, and now we cannot utter a pennyworth. Evan. Well, sirrah, you were best to discharge Oh bride! no bride, but thou mayst prove a Oh venture! no venture, I have, for one, now none; Oh wife! thy life is saved when I hoped it had Case up your fruitless strings; no penny, no Case up thy maidenhead; no priest, no bedding: Put up your plums, as fiddlers put up pipes, and now, Lys. This passion has given some satisfaction yet. My lord, I think you'll pardon him now, with all the rest, so they live honestly with the wives they have. Evan. Oh! most freely; free pardon to all. Cook. Ay, we have deserved our pardons, if we can live honestly with such reverend wives, that have no motion in them but their tongues. Aga. Heaven bless your grace! you are a just Gnoth. All hopes dash'd; the clerk's duties My venture gone; my second wife divorced; Creon. How headlong, villain, wert thou in thy ruin! Sim. I followed the fashion, sir, as other young men did. If you were as we thought you had been, we should ne'er have come for this, I warrant you. We did not feed, after the old fashion, on beef and mutton, and such like. Creon. Well, what damage or charge you have run yourselves into by marriage, I cannot help, nor deliver you from your wives; them you must keep ; yourselves shall again return to me. All. We thank your lordship for your love, and Cleon. My lord, I see a satisfaction Why, here's humility able to bind up Sim. I had ne'er thought to have been brought so low as my knees again; but since there's no remedy, fathers, reverend fathers, as you ever hope to have good sons and heirs, a handful of pity! we confess we have deserved more than we are willing to receive at your hands, though sons can never deserve too much of their fathers, as shall appear afterwards. Creon. And what way can you decline your feeding now? Until my memory lose your beginning! That oft-times, waking, our unsteady fancies Evan. Enough, Leonides, You go beyond the praise; we have our end, [Flourish. Exeunt. POEMS ΟΝ SEVERAL OCCASIONS, BY PHILIP MASSINGER. TO MY JUDICIOUS AND LEARNED FRIEND THE AUTHOR, [JAMES SHIRLEY,] Upon his ingenious Poem, "The Grateful Servant," a THOUGH I Well know, that my obscurer name At the altar of thy Muse. I dare not raise I'll steer a midway, have clear truth my guide, Express'd and order'd, as wise men must say PHILIP MASSINGER. TO HIS SON J. S. UPON HIS MINERVA. THOU art my son; in that my choice is spoke : PHILIP MASSINGER. SERO SED SERIO. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MY MOST SINGU- A happy pair. I curs'd my absence then Or hope my weak Muse can bring forth one verse Of your late hopeful Charles? his obsequies By truth I vow it is no flattery, I from my soul wish, (if it might remove Vent hourly for him. That great ladies mourn And with a general sadness, why should you Your honour's most humble and faithful servant, PHILIP MASSINGER. |