Epi. It does not become your gravity or breeding, as you pretend, in court, to have offer'd this outrage on a waterman, or any more boisterous creature, much less on a man of his civil coat. Mor. You can speak then!

Epi. Yes, sir.

Mor. Speak out, I mean.

Epi. Ay, sir. Why, did you think you had married a statue, or a motion only? one of the French puppets, with the eyes turn'd with a wire? or some innocent out of the hospital, that would stand with her hands thus, and a plaise mouth, and look upon you?

Mor. Oh immodesty! a manifest woman! What, Cutbeard!

Epi. Nay, never quarrel with Cutbeard, sir: it is too late now. I confess it doth bate somewhat of the modesty I had when I writ simply maid; but I hope I shall make it a stock still competent to the estate and dignity of your wife.

Mor. She can talk!

Epi. Yes, indeed, sir.

me!

True. I wish you all joy, Mistress Epiccœne, with your grave and honourable match.

Epi. I return you the thanks, Master Truewit; so friendly a wish deserves.

Mor. She has acquaintance, too!

True. God save you, sir, and give you all contentment in your fair choice, here! Before, I was the bird of night to you, the owl; but now I am the messenger of peace, a dove, and bring you the glad wishes of many friends to the celebration of this good hour.

Mor. What hour, sir?

True. Your marriage hour, sir. I commend your resolution, that, notwithstanding all the dangers I laid afore you, in the voice of a nightcrow, would yet go on and be yourself. It shows you are a man constant to your own ends, and upright to your purposes, that would not be put off with left-handed cries.

Mor. Howshould you arrive at the knowledge of so much?

True. Why, did you ever hope, sir, committing the secrecy of it to a barber, that less than the

whole town should know it? You might as well have told it the conduit, or the bake-house, or the infantry that follow the court, and with more security. Could your gravity forget so old and noted a remnant as, lippis et tonsoribus notum ?1 Well, sir, forgive it yourself now, the fault, and be communicable with your friends. Hero will be three or four fashionable ladies from the college to visit you presently, and their train of minions and followers.

Mor. Bar my doors! bar my doors! Where are all my eaters?? my mouths now?

Enter Servants.

Bar up my doors, you varlets!

Epi. He is a varlet that stirs to such an office. Let them stand open. I would see him that dares move his eyes toward it. Shall I have a barricado made against my friends, to be barr'd of any pleasure they can bring in to me with their honourable visitation? [Exeunt Ser.

Mor. Oh Amazonian impudence!

True. Nay, faith, in this, sir, she speaks but reason; and, methinks, is more continent than you. Would you go to bed so presently, sir, afore noon? A man of your head and hair should owe more to that reverend ceremony, and not mount the marriage bed like a town bull or a mountain goat; but stay the due season, and ascend it then with religion and fear. Those delights are to be steeped in the humour and silence of night; and give the day to other open pleasures, and jollities of feasting, of music, of revels, of discourse; we'll have all, sir, that may make your Hymen high and happy.

Mor. Oh! my torment, my torment!

True. Nay, if you endure the first half-hour, sir, so tediously and with this irksomeness, what comfort or hope can this fair gentlewoman make to herself hereafter, in the consideration of so many years as are to come

Mor. Of my affliction. Good sir, depart, and let her do it alone.

True. I have done, sir.
Mor. That cursed barber!

True. Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir. Mor. I have married his cittern, that's common to all men. Some plague above the plagueTrue. All Egypt's ten plagues.

Mor. Revenge me on him!

True. "Tis very well, sir. If you laid on a curse or two more, I'll assure you he'll bear them. As, that he may get the pox with seeking to cure it, sir; or that, while he is curling another man's hair, his own may drop off; or for burning some male-bawd's lock, he may have his brain beat out with the curling-iron.

Mor. No, let the wretch live wretched. May he get the itch, and his shop so lousy, as no man dare come at him, nor he come at no man!

True. Ay, and if he would swallow all his balls for pills, let not them purge him.

Mor. Let his warming-pan be ever cold.
True. A perpetual frost underneath it, sir.
Mor. Let him never hope to see fire again.
True. But in hell, sir.

3 married his cittern. It appears from innumerable passages in our old writers that barbers' shops were furnished with some musical instrument (commonly a cittern or guitar) for the amusement of such customers as chose to strum upon it, while waiting for their turn to be shaved, &c.; and this point once established, no further difficulty remains. Decker speaks of 'A barber's cittern, for every serving-man to play upon.'-GIFFORD.

N

Mor. His chairs be always empty, his scissors rust, and his combs mould in their cases.

True. Very dreadful that! And may he lose the invention, sir, of carving lanterns in paper.

Mor. Let there be no bawd carted that year, to employ a bason of his: but let him be glad to eat his sponge for bread.

True. And drink lotium to it, and much good do him.

Mor. Or, for want of bread

True. Eat ear-wax, sir. I'll help you. Or, draw his own teeth, and add them to the lutestring.

Mor. No; beat the old ones to powder, and make bread of them.

True. Yes, make meal of the mill-stones. Mor. May all the botches and burns that he has cured on others break out upon him.

True. And he now forget the cure of them in himself, sir; or, if he do remember it, let him have scraped all his linen into lint for't, and have not a rag left him for to set up with.

Mor. Let him never set up again, but have the gout in his hands for ever!-Now, no more, sir.

True. Oh, that last was too high set; you might go less with him, i'faith, and be revenged enough: as, that he be never able to new-paint his poleMor. Good sir, no more, I forgot myself.

True. Or, want credit to take up with a combmaker

Mor. No more, sir.

True. Or, having broken his glass in a former despair, fall now into a much greater, of ever getting another

Mor. I beseech you, no more.

withstanding the justice of my quarrel. - You shall give me leave, mistress, to use a becoming familiarity with your husband.

Epi. Your ladyship does me an honour in it, to let me know he is so worthy your favour: as you have done both him and me grace to visit so unprepared a pair to entertain you. Mor. Compliment! compliment!

Epi. But I must lay the burden of that upon my servant here.

Hau. It shall not need, Mistress Morose; we will all bear, rather than one shall be opprest. Mor. I know it and you will teach her the faculty, if she be to learn it.

[Walks aside while the rest talk apart.

Hau. Is this the silent woman?

Cen. Nay, she has found her tongue since she was married, Master Truewit says.

Hau. Oh, Master Truewit! 'save you. What kind of creature is your bride here? She speaks, methinks!

True. Yes, madam, believe it, she is a gentlewoman of very absolute behaviour, and of a good race.

Hau. And Jack Daw told us she could not speak!

True. So it was carried in plot, madam, to put her upon this old fellow, by Sir Dauphine, his nephew, and one or two more of us: but she is a woman of an excellent assurance, and an extraordinary happy wit and tongue. You shall see her make rare sport with Daw ere night. Hau. And he brought us to laugh at her!

Trate. That falls out often, madam, that he that thinks himself the master-wit, is the master-fool.

ming of any but chimney-sweepers

True. Or may he cut a collier's throat with his razor, by chance-medley, and yet be hanged for't. Mor. I will forgive him, rather than hear any more. I beseech you, sir.

Enter Daw, introducing Lady HAUGHTY, CENTAURE, MAVIS, and TRUSTY.

Daw. This way, madam.

Mor. Oh, the sea breaks in upon me! another flood! an inundation! I shall be overwhelmed with noise. It beats already at my shores. I feel an earthquake in myself for't.

Daw. 'Give you joy, mistress.

Mor. Has she servants? too!

Daw. I have brought some ladies here to see and know you. My Lady Haughty-[as he presents them severally, EPI. kisses them this my Lady Centaure-Mistress Dol Mavis-Mistress Trusty, my Lady Haughty's woman. Where's your husband? let see him: can he endure no noise? let me come to him.

Mor. What nomenclator is this!

True. Sir John Daw, sir, your wife's servant,

this.

Mor. A Daw, and her servant! Oh, 'tis decreed, 'tis decreed of me, an she have such servants. [Going.

True. Nay, sir, you must kiss the ladies; you must not go away, now: they come toward you to seek you out.

Hau. I' faith, Master Morose, would you steal a marriage thus, in the midst of so many friends, and not acquaint us? Well, I'll kiss you not

1 To make the punishment of these and similar characters more notorious, beadles, and sometimes volunteers among the rabble, attended the progress of the cart, beating basons, brass kettles, etc.-GIFFORD. 2 servants-authorized admirers.-GIFFORD.

Hau. No! we'll have her to the college. An she have wit, she shall be one of us, shall she not, Centaure? we'll make her a collegiate.

Cen. Yes, faith, madam, and Mavis and she will set up a side.2

True. Believe it, madam, and Mistress Mavis she will sustain her part.

Mav. I'll tell you that, when I have talk'd with her, and tried her.

Hau. Use her very civilly, Mavis.

Mav. So I will, madam.

[Whispers her.

Mor. Blessed minute! that they would whisper

thus ever!

[Aside.

True. In the meantime, madam, would but your ladyship help to vex him a little. You know his disease; talk to him about the wedding ceremonies, or call for your gloves, or

Hau. Let me alone. Centaure, help me.Master bridegroom, where are you? Mor. Oh, it was too miraculously good to last! [Aside.

Let

Hau. We see no ensigns of a wedding here; no character of a bride-ale. Where be our scarves and our gloves? I pray you give them us. us know your bride's colours, and yours at least. Cen. Alas, madam, he has provided none. Mor. Had I known your ladyship's painter, I

would.

Hau. He has given it you, Centaure, i'faith. But, do you hear, Master Morose? a jest will not absolve you in this manner. You that have suck'd the milk of the court, and from thence have been brought up to the very strong meats and wine of it; been a courtier from the biggen to the night-cap, as we may say, and you to offend in

Hau. Pardon me, sir, I must insinuate your errors to you; no gloves? no garters? no scarves? no epithalamium? no masque?

Daw. Yes, madam, I'll make an epithalamium, I promise my mistress; I have begun it already; will your ladyship hear it?

Hau. Ay, good Jack Daw.

Mor. Will it please your ladyship command a chamber, and be private with your friend? you shall have your choice of rooms to retire to after: my whole house is yours. I know it hath been your ladyship's errand into the city at other times, however now you have been unhappily diverted upon me; but I shall be loath to break any honourable custom of your ladyship's. And therefore, good madam

Epi. Come, you are a rude bridegroom, to entertain ladies of honour in this fashion.

Cen. He is a rude groom indeed.

True. By that light you deserve to be grafted, and have your horns reach from one side of the island to the other. - Do not mistake me, sir; I but speak this to give the ladies some heart again, not for any malice to you.

Mor. Is this your bravo, ladies?

True. As God [shall] help me, if you utter such another word, I'll take mistress bride in, and begin to you in a very sad cup; do you see? Go to, know your friends, and such as love you.

Enter CLERIMONT, followed by a number of
Musicians.

Cler. By your leave, ladies. Do you want any music? I have brought you variety of noises.1 Play, sirs, all of you.

[Aside to the Musicians, who strike up all together.

Mor. Oh, a plot, a plot, a plot, a plot, upon me! This day I shall be their anvil to work on; they will grate me asunder. 'Tis worse than the noise of a saw.

Cler. No, they are hair, rosin, and guts. I can give you the receipt. True. Peace, boys!

Cler. Play! I say.

True, Peace, rascals! You see who's your friend now, sir: take courage, put on a martyr's resolution. Mock down all their attemptings with patience: 'tis but a day, and I would suffer heroically. Should an ass exceed me in fortitude? No. You betray your infirmity with your hanging dull ears, and make them insult; bear up bravely, and constantly. [LA-FOOLE passes over the stage as a Sewer, followed by Servants carrying dishes, and Mistress OTTER.]-Look you here, sir, what honour is done you unexpected, by your nephew; a wedding-dinner come, and a knightsewer before it, for the more reputation: and fine Mistress Otter, your neighbour, in the rump or tail of it.

Mor. Is that Gorgon, that Medusa come! Hide me, hide me!

True. I warrant you, sir, she will not transform you. Look upon her with a good courage. Pray you entertain her, and conduct your guests in. No! Mistress bride, will you entreat in the ladies? Your bridegroom is so shamefaced, here. Epi. Will it please your ladyship, madam?

ACT IV.-SCENE I.

A Room in MOROSE'S House.
Enter TRUEWIT and CLERIMONT.

True. Was there ever poor bridegroom so tormented? or man, indeed?

Cler. I have not read of the like in the chronicles of the land.

True. Sure, he cannot but go to a place of rest, after all this purgatory.

Cler. He may presume it, I think.

True. The spitting, the coughing, the laughter, the sneezing, the dancing, noise of the music, and her masculine and loud commanding, and urging the whole family, makes him think he has married a fury.

Cler. And she carries it up bravely. True. Ay, she takes any occasion to speak: that's the height on't.

Cler. And how soberly Dauphine labours to satisfy him, that it was none of his plot!

True. And has almost brought him to the faith, in the article. Here he comes.

Enter Sir DAUPHINE.

Where is he now? what's become of him, Dauphine?

Daup. Oh, hold me up a little, I shall go away in the jest else.2 He has got on his whole nest of night-caps, and lock'd himself up in the top of the house, as high as ever he can climb from the noise. I peep'd in at a cranny, and saw him sitting over a cross-beam of the roof, like him on the saddler's horse in Fleet-street, upright: and he will sleep there.

Cler. But where are your collegiates? Daup. Withdrawn with the bride in private. True. Oh, they are instructing her in the college-grammar. If she have grace with them, she knows all their secrets instantly.

Cler. Methinks the Lady Haughty looks well to-day, for all my dispraise of her in the morning. I think I shall come about to thee again, Truewit. True. Believe it, I told you right. Women ought to repair the losses time and years have made in their features with dressings. And an intelligent woman, if she know by herself the least defect, will be most curious to hide it: and it becomes her. If she be short, let her sit much, lest, when she stands, she be thought to sit. If she have an ill foot, let her wear her gown the longer, and her shoe the thinner. If a fat hand, and scald nails, let her carve the less, and act in gloves. If a sour breath, let her never discourse fasting, and always talk at her distance. If she have black and rugged teeth, let her offer the less at laughter, especially if she laugh wide and open.

Cler. Oh, you shall have some women, when they laugh, you would think they brayed, it is so rude and

True. Ay, and others, that will stalk in their gait like an ostrich, and take huge strides. I cannot endure such a sight. I love measure in the feet, and number in the voice: they are gentlenesses that oftentimes draw no less than the face. Daup. How camest thou to study these creatures so exactly? I would thou wouldst make me a proficient.

True. Yes; but you must leave to live in your chamber, then, a month together upon Amadis de Gaul, or Don Quixote, as you are wont; and come abroad where the matter is frequent, to court, to tiltings, public shows and feasts, to plays, and church sometimes: thither they come to show their new tires too; to see, and be seen. In these places a man shall find whom to love, whom to play with, whom to touch once, whom to hold ever. The variety arrests his judgment. A wench to please a man comes not down dropping from the ceiling, as he lies on his back droning a tobacco pipe. He must go where she is. Daup. Yes, and be never the nearer. True. Out, heretic! That diffidence makes thee worthy it should be so.

Cler. He says true to you, Dauphine.
Daup. Why?

True. A man should not doubt to overcome any woman. Think he can vanquish them, and he shall: for though they deny, their desire is to be tempted. Penelope herself cannot hold out long. Ostend, you saw, was taken at last. You must perséver, and hold to your purpose. They would solicit us, but that they are afraid. Howsoever, they wish in their hearts we should solicit them. Praise them, flatter them, you shall never want eloquence or trust: even the chastest delight to feel themselves that way rubb'd. With praises you must mix kisses too: if they take them, they'll take more-though they strive, they would be

overcome.

Cler. Oh, but a man must beware of force. True. It is to them an acceptable violence, and has oft-times the place of the greatest courtesy. She that might have been forced, and you let her go free without touching, though then she seem to thank you, will ever hate you after; and glad in the face, is assuredly sad at the heart.

Cler. But all women are not to be taken all ways.

True. 'Tis true; no more than all birds, or all fishes. If you appear learned to an ignorant wench, or jocund to a sad, or witty to a foolish, why she presently begins to mistrust herself. You must approach them in their own height, their own line; for the contrary makes many,

1 scald-scurvy, scabby, disgusting. leave-ccase.

3 droning-probably smoking drowsily.

that fear to commit themselves to noble and worthy fellows, run into the embraces of a rascal. If she love wit, give verses, though you borrow them of a friend, or buy them, to have good. If valour, talk of your sword, and be frequent in the mention of quarrels, though you be staunch in fighting. If activity, be seen on your barbary? often, or leaping over stools, for the credit of your back. If she love good clothes or dressing, have your learned council about you every morning, your French tailor, barber, linener, &c. Let your powder, your glass, and your comb be your dearest acquaintance. Take more care for the ornament of your head, than the safety; and wish the commonwealth rather troubled, than a hair about you. That will take her. Then, if she be covetous and craving, do you promise anything, and perform sparingly; so shall you keep her in appetite still. Seem as you would give, but be like a barren field, that yields little, or unlucky dice to foolish and hoping gamesters. Let your gifts be slight and dainty, rather than precious. Let cunning be above cost. Give cherries at time of year, or apricots; and say they were sent you out of the country, though you bought them in Cheapside. Admire her tires: like her in all fashions; compare her in every habit to some deity; invent excellent dreams to flatter her, and riddles; or, if she be a great one, perform always the second parts to her: like what she likes, praise whom she praises, and fail not to make the household and servants yours, yea the whole family, and salute them by their names ('tis but light cost, if you can purchase them so), and make her physician your pensioner, and her chief woman. Nor will it be out of your gain to make love to her too, so she follow, not usher her lady's pleasure. All blabbing is taken away, when she comes to be a part of the crime.3

Daup. On what courtly lap hast thou late slept. to come forth so sudden and absolute a courtling?

True. Good faith, I should rather question you, that are so hearkening after these mysteries. I begin to suspect your diligence, Dauphine. Speak, art thou in love in earnest?

Daup. Yes, by my troth, am I; 'twere ill dissembling before thee.

True. With which of them, I prithee?

Daup. With all the collegiates.

Cler. Out on thee! We'll keep you at home, believe it, in the stable, an you be such a stallion.

True. No; I like him well. Men should love wisely, and all women: some one for the face, and let her please the eye; another for the skin, and let her please the touch; a third for the voice, and let her please the ear; and where the objects mix, let the senses so too. Thou would'st think it strange, if I should make them all in love with thee afore night!

Daup. I would say, thou hadst the best philtre in the world, and couldst do more than Madam Medea, or Doctor Foreman.

True. If I do not, let me play the mountebank for my meat, while I live, and the bawd of my drink.

Daup. So be it, I say.

Enter OTTER with his three Cups, Daw, and
LA-FOOLE.

Ott. Oh lord, gentlemen, how my knights and I have missed you here!

Cler. Why, captain, what service, what service?

Ott. To see me bring up my bull, bear, and horse1 to fight.

Daw. Yes, faith, the captain says we shall be his dogs to bait them.

Daup. A good employment.

True. Come on, let's see your course, then. La-F. I am afraid my cousin will be offended, if she come.

Ott. Be afraid of nothing. - Gentlemen, I have placed the drum and the trumpets, and one to give them the sign when you are ready. Here's my bull for myself, and my bear for Sir John Daw, and my horse for Sir Amorous. Now set your foot to mine, and yours to his, and

La-F. Pray God my cousin come not.

Ott. St. George and St. Andrew, fear no cousins. -Come, sound, sound! [Drum and trumpets sound. Et rauco strepuerunt cornua cantu." [They drink.] True. Well said, captain, i'faith; well fought at the bull.

Cler. Well held at the bear.

True. Low, low! captain.

Cler. But you must drink and be jovial.

Daw. Yes, give it me.

La-F. And me too.

Daw. Let's be jovial.

La-F. As jovial as you will.

Ott. Agreed. Now you shall have the bear, cousin, and Sir John Daw the horse, and I'll have the bull still. Sound, Tritons of the Thames! [Drum and trumpets sound again.] Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero1

Mor. [above.] Villains, murderers, sons of the earth, and traitors! what do you there?

Cler. Oh, now the trumpets have waked him, we shall have his company.

Ott. A wife is a scurvy clogdogdo, an unlucky thing, a very foresaid bear-whelp, without any good fashion or breeding, mala bestia.

Re-enter TRUEWIT behind, with Mistress OTTER.

Daup. Why did you marry one then, captain? Ott. A pox! - I married with six thousand pound, I. I was in love with that. I have not kissed my Fury these forty weeks.

Cler. The more to blame you, captain.

True. Nay, Mistress Otter, hear him a little first.

Ott. She has a breath worse than my grandmother's, profecto.3

Mrs. Ott. Oh treacherous liar! Kiss me, sweet

already.

La-F. I cannot drink it, as I am a knight.

True. Ods so! Off with his spurs, somebody. La-F. It goes against my conscience. My

cousin will be angry with it.

Daw. I have done mine.

True. You fought high and fair, Sir John.

Cler. At the head.

Daup. Like an excellent bear-dog.

Cler. You take no notice of the business, I hope? Daw. Not a word, sir; you see we are jovial. Ott. Sir Amorous, you must not equivocate. It must be pull'd down, for all my cousin.

Cler. 'Sfoot, if you take not your drink, they'll think you are discontented with something; you'll betray all, if you take the least notice.

La-F. Not I; I'll both drink and talk then. Ott. You must pull the horse on his knees, Sir Amorous; fear no cousins. Jacta est alea.3

True. Oh, now he's in his vein, and bold. The least hint given him of his wife now, will make him rail desperately.

Cler. Speak to him of her.

True. Do you, and I'll fetch her to the hearing of it.

[Exit.

Daup. Captain He-Otter, your She-Otter is coming, your wife.

Ott. Wife! buz? titivilitium! There's no such thing in nature. I confess, gentlemen, I have a cook, a laundress, a house-drudge, that serves my necessary turns, and goes under that title; but he's an ass that will be so uxorious to tie his affections to one circle. Come, the name dulls appetite. Here, replenish again; another bout. [Fills the cups again.] Wives are nasty, sluttish animals.

knave.

True. I'll rather believe you, lady.

Ott. And she has a peruke that's like a pound

of hemp, made up in shoe-threads.

Mrs. Ott. Oh viper, mandrake!

Ott. A most vile face! and yet she spends me forty pound a year in mercury and hogs-bones. All her teeth were made in the Black-friars, both her eyebrows in the Strand, and her hair in Silver-street. Every part of the town owns a piece of her.

Mrs. Ott. [comes forward.] I cannot hold.

Ott. She takes herself asunder still when she goes to bed, into some twenty boxes; and about next day noon is put together again, like a great German clock: and so comes forth, and rings a tedious larum to the whole house, and then is quiet again for an hour, but for her quartersHave you done me right, gentlemen?

Mrs. Ott. [falls upon him, and beats him.] No, sir, I'll do you right with my quarters, with my quarters.

Ott. Oh, hold, good princess!
True. Sound, sound! [Drum and trumpets sound.
Cler. A battle, a battle!

Mrs. Ott. You notorious stinkardly bearward, does my breath smell?

Ott. Under correction, dear princess.-Look to my bear and my horse, gentlemen.

Mrs. Ott. Do I want teeth, and eyebrows, thou bull-dog?

True. Sound, sound still! [They sound again. Ott. No, I protest, under correction

Mrs. Ott. Ay, now you are under correction, you protest: but you did not protest before correction, sir. Thou Judas, to offer to betray thy princess! I'll make thee an example

[Beats him.

Enter MOROSE with his long sword.

Mor. I will have no such examples in my house, Lady Otter.