SCENE I.—Outside RICOTT’S House.
ENTER
REIGNALD.
REIGNALD.
Now, impudence, but steel my face this once,
Although I ne’er blush after! Here’s the house.
Ho! who’s within? What, no man to defend
These innocent gates from knocking?
Enter Master RICOTT.
RICOTT.
Who’s without there?
REIGNALD.
One, sir, that ever wished your worship’s health;
And those few hours I can find time to pray in,
I still remember it.
RICOTT.
Gramercy, Reignald,
I love all those that wish it: you are the men
Lead merry lives, feast, revel, and carouse;
You feel no tedious hours; Time plays with you—
This is your golden age.
REIGNALD.
It was; but now, sir,
That gold is turned to worse than alchemy;
It will not stand the test. Those days are past,
And now our nights come on.
RICOTT.
Tell me, Reignald, is he returned from sea?
REIGNALD.
Yes, to our grief already, but we fear
Hereafter it may prove to all our costs.
RICOTT.
Suspects thy master anything?
REIGNALD.
Not yet, sir.
Now my request is, that your worship being
So near a neighbour, therefore most disturbed,
Would not be first to peach us.
RICOTT.
Take my word;
With other neighbours make what peace you can,
I’ll not be your accuser.
REIGNALD.
Worshipful sir;
I shall be still your beadsman. Now the business
That I was sent about: the old man my master
Claiming some interest in acquaintance past,
Desires (might it be no way troublesome)
To take free view of all your house within.
RICOTT.
View of my house! Why, ’tis not set to sale,
Nor bill upon the door. Look well upon’t;
View of my house!
REIGNALD.
Nay, be not angry, sir;
He no way doth disable[37] your estate;
As far to buy, as you are loath to sell.
Some alterations in his own he’d make,
And hearing yours by workmen much commended,
He would make that his precedent.
RICOTT.
What fancies
Should at this age possess him, knowing the cost,
That he should dream of building!
REIGNALD.
’Tis supposed,
He hath late found a wife out for his son;
Now, sir, to have him near him, and that nearness
Too without trouble, though beneath one roof,
Yet parted in two families, he would build,
And make what’s picked[38] a perfect quadrangle,
Proportioned just with yours, were you so pleased
To make it his example.
RICOTT.
Willingly.
I will but order some few things within,
And then attend his coming. [Exit.
REIGNALD.
Most kind coxcomb!
Great Alexander and Agathocles,
Cæsar, and others, have been famed, they say,
And magnified for high facinorous deeds;
Why claim not I an equal place with them—
Or rather a precedent? These commanded
Their subjects, and their servants; I my master,
And every way his equals, where I please,
Lead by the nose along: they placed their burdens
On horses, mules, and camels; I, old men
Of strength and wit, load with my knavery,
Till both their backs and brains ache; yet, poor animals,
[Enter Old LIONEL.]
They ne’er complain of weight.—Oh, are you come, sir?
OLD LIONEL.
I made what haste I could.
REIGNALD.
And brought the warrant?
OLD LIONEL.
See here, I have’t.
REIGNALD.
’Tis well done; but speak, runs it
Both without bail and mainprize[39]?
OLD LIONEL.
Nay, it carries
Both form and power.
REIGNALD.
Then I shall warrant him.
I have been yonder, sir.
OLD LIONEL.
And what says he?
REIGNALD.
Like one that offers you
Free ingress, view, and regress, at your pleasure,
As to his worthy landlord.
OLD LIONEL.
Was that all?
REIGNALD.
He spake to me, that I would speak to you,
To speak unto your son; and then again,
To speak to him, that he would speak to you,
You would release his bargain.
OLD LIONEL.
By no means:
Men must advise before they part with land,
Not after to repent it: ’tis most just
That such as hazard and disburse their stocks,
Should take all gains and profits that accrue,
As well in sale of houses as in barter,
And traffic of all other merchandise.
Re-enter RICOTT; he walks before the gate.
REIGNALD.
See, in acknowledgment of a tenant’s duty,
He attends you at the gate; salute him, sir.
OLD LIONEL.
My worthy friend!
RICOTT.
Now, as I live, all my best thoughts and wishes
Impart with yours, in your so safe return;
Your servant tells me you have great desire
To take surview of this my house within.
OLD LIONEL.
Be’t, sir, no trouble to you.
RICOTT.
None; enter boldly,
With as much freedom as it were your own.
OLD LIONEL.
As it were mine! Why, Reignald, is it not?
REIGNALD.
Lord, sir, that in extremity of grief
You’ll add unto vexation! See you not
How sad he’s on the sudden?
OLD LIONEL.
I observe it.
REIGNALD.
To part with that which he hath kept so long,
Especially his inheritance: now, as you love
Goodness and honesty, torment him not
With the least word of purchase.
OLD LIONEL.
Counselled well;
Thou teachest me humanity.
RICOTT.
Will you enter?
Or shall I call a servant, to conduct you
Through every room and chamber?
OLD LIONEL.
By no means;
I fear we are too much troublesome of ourselves.
REIGNALD.
See what a goodly gate!
OLD LIONEL.
It likes me well.
REIGNALD.
What brave carved posts! who knows but here,
In time, sir, you may keep your shrievalty;[40]
And I be one o’ the serjeants!
OLD LIONEL.
They are well carved.
RICOTT.
And cost me a good price, sir: take your pleasure;
I have business in the town. [Exit.
REIGNALD.
Poor man, I pity him;
H’ath not the heart to stay and see you come,
As ’twere, to take possession. Look that way, sir,
What goodly fair bay windows.
OLD LIONEL.
Wondrous stately.
REIGNALD.
And what a gallery, how costly ceiled;
What painting round about.
OLD LIONEL.
Every fresh object
To good adds betterness.
REIGNALD.
Terraced above,
And how below supported. Do they please you?
OLD LIONEL.
All things beyond opinion. Trust me, Reignald,
I’ll not forego the bargain, for more gain
Than half the price it cost me.
REIGNALD.
If you would,
I should not suffer you; was not the money
Due to the usurer, took upon good ground,
That proved well built upon? We were no fools
That knew not what we did.
OLD LIONEL.
It shall be satisfied.
REIGNALD.
Please you to trust me with’t, I’ll see’t discharged.
OLD LIONEL.
He hath my promise, and I’ll do’t myself.
Never could son have better pleased a father
Than in this purchase! Hie thee instantly
Unto my house i’ the country, give him notice
Of my arrive, and bid him with all speed
Post hither.
REIGNALD.
Ere I see the warrant served?
OLD LIONEL.
It shall be thy first business; for my soul
Is not at peace, till face to face I approve
His husbandry, and much commend his thrift;
Nay, without pause, begone.
REIGNALD.
But a short journey;
For he’s not far that I am sent to seek:
I have got the start; the best part of the race
Is run already; what remains is small,
And, tire now, I should but forfeit all.
OLD LIONEL.
Make haste, I do entreat thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The Garden of Old WINCOTT’S House.
Enter the
Clown.
CLOWN.
This is the garden gate; and here am I set to stand sentinel, and to attend the coming of young master Geraldine. Master Delavil’s gone to his chamber, my mistress to hers. ’Tis now about midnight; a banquet prepared, bottles of wine in readiness, all the whole household at their rest, and no creature by this honestly stirring, saving I and my old master; he in a bye-chamber, prepared of purpose for their private meeting, and I here to play the watchman against my will! [Enter Young GERALDINE.] Chavelah?[41] Stand! Who goes there?
YOUNG GERALDINE.
A friend.
CLOWN.
The word?
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Honest Roger.
CLOWN.
That’s the word indeed; you have leave to pass freely without calling my corporal.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
How go the affairs within?
CLOWN.
According to promise: the business is composed, and the servants disposed; my young mistress reposed; my old master, according as you proposed, attends you, if you be exposed, to give him meeting; nothing in the way being interposed, to transpose you to the least danger: and this I dare be deposed, if you will not take my word, as I am honest Roger.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Thy word shall be my warrant, but secured
Most in thy master’s promise, on which building,
By this known way I enter.
CLOWN.
Nay, by your leave, I that was late but a plain sentinel will now be your captain conductor: follow me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Room in Old WINCOTT’S House.
Table and stools set out, lights, a banquet,[42] wine. Enter Old
WINCOTT.
WINCOTT.
I wonder whence this strangeness should proceed,
Or wherein I, or any of my house,
Should be the occasion of the least distaste:
Now, as I wish him well, it troubles me;
But now the time grows on from his own mouth
To be resolved, and I hope satisfied.
[Enter Clown and Young GERALDINE.]
Sir, as I live, of all my friends, to me
Most wishedly you are welcome: take that chair,
I this: nay, I entreat, no compliment.—
Attend; fill wine.
CLOWN.
Till the mouths of the bottles yawn directly upon the floor, and the bottoms turn their tails up to the ceiling; whilst there’s any blood in their bellies I’ll not leave them.
WINCOTT.
I first salute you thus.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
It could not come
From one whom I more honour; sir, I thank you.
CLOWN.
Nay, since my master begun it, I’ll see’t go round to all three.
WINCOTT.
Now give us leave.
CLOWN.
Talk you by yourselves, whilst I find something to say to this:[43] I have a tale to tell him shall make his stony heart relent. [Exit.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Now, first, sir, your attention I entreat:
Next, your belief that what I speak is just,
Maugre all contradiction.
WINCOTT.
Both are granted.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Then I proceed; with due acknowledgment
Of all your more than many courtesies:
You’ve been my second father, and your wife
My noble and chaste mistress; all your servants
At my command; and this your bounteous table
As free and common as my father’s house:
Neither ’gainst any, or the least of these,
Can I commence just quarrel.
WINCOTT.
What might then be
The cause of this constraint, in thus absenting
Yourself from such as love you?
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Out of many,
I will propose some few: the care I have
Of your as yet unblemishèd renown,
The untouched honour of your virtuous wife,
And (which I value least, yet dearly too)
My own fair reputation.
WINCOTT.
How can these
In any way be questioned?
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Oh, dear sir,
Bad tongues have been too busy with us all;
Of which I never yet had time to think,
But with sad thoughts and griefs unspeakable.
It hath been whispered by some wicked ones,
But loudly thundered in my father’s ears,
By some that have maligned our happiness,
(Heaven, if it can brook slander, pardon them!)
That this my customary coming hither
Hath been to base and sordid purposes:
To wrong your bed, injure her chastity,
And be mine own undoer, which, how false!
WINCOTT.
As Heaven is true, I know’t.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Now, this calumny
Arriving first unto my father’s ears,
His easy nature was induced to think
That these things might perhaps be possible:
I answered him as I would do to Heaven,
And cleared myself in his suspicious thoughts
As truly as the high all-knowing Judge
Shall of these stains acquit me, which are merely
Aspersions and untruths. The good old man,
Possessed with my sincerity, and yet careful
Of your renown, her honour, and my fame,
To stop the worst that scandal could inflict,
And to prevent false rumours, charges me,
The cause removed, to take away the effect;
Which only could be to forbear your house—
And this upon his blessing. You hear all.
WINCOTT.
And I of all acquit you: this your absence,
With which my love most cavilled, orators[44]
In your behalf. Had such things passed betwixt you,
Not threats nor chidings could have driven you hence.
It pleads in your behalf, and speaks in hers,
And arms me with a double confidence,
Both of your friendship and her loyalty:
I am happy in you both, and only doubtful
Which of you two doth most impart my love.
You shall not hence to-night.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
Pray, pardon, sir.
WINCOTT.
You are in your lodging.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
But my father’s charge?
WINCOTT.
My conjuration shall dispense with that.
You may be up as early as you please,
But hence to-night you shall not.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
You are powerful.
WINCOTT.
This night, of purpose, I have parted beds,
Feigning myself not well, to give you meeting;
Nor can be aught suspected by my wife,
I have kept all so private: now ’tis late,
I’ll steal up to my rest. But, howsoever,
Let’s not be strange in our writing; that way daily
We may confer without the least suspect,
In spite of all such base calumnious tongues.
So now good-night, sweet friend. [Exit.
YOUNG GERALDINE.
May He that made you
So just and good still guard you!—Not to bed;
So I perhaps might oversleep myself,
And then my tardy waking might betray me
To the more early household; thus as I am,
I’ll rest me on this pallet.—But in vain:
I find no sleep can fasten on mine eyes,
There are in this disturbèd brain of mine
So many mutinous fancies. This to me
Will be a tedious night; how shall I spend it?
No book that I can spy? no company?
A little let me recollect myself.
Oh, what more wishèd company can I find,
Suiting the apt occasion, time, and place,
Than the sweet contemplation of her beauty;
And the fruition too, time may produce,
Of what is yet lent out? ’Tis a sweet lady,
And every way accomplished: hath mere accident
Brought me thus near, and I not visit her?
Should it arrive her ear, perhaps might breed
Our lasting separation; for, ’twixt lovers,
No quarrels to unkindness.[45] Sweet opportunity
Offers prevention, and invites me to’t:
The house is known to me, the stairs and rooms;
The way into her chamber frequently
Trodden by me at midnight, and all hours:
How joyful to her would a meeting be,
So strange and unexpected—shadowed too
Beneath the veil of night! I am resolved
To give her visitation in that place
Where we have passed deep vows—her bed-chamber:
My fiery love this darkness makes seem bright,
And this the path that leads to my delight,
[Goes in at one door, and comes out at another.][46]
And this the gate unto’t.—I’ll listen first,
Before too rudely I disturb her rest
And gentle breathing. Ha! she’s sure awake,
For in the bed two whisper, and their voices
Appear to me unequal;—one a woman’s—
And hers! The other should be no maid’s tongue,
It bears too big a tone. And hark, they laugh—
Damnation! But list further; t’other sounds
Like—’tis the same false perjured Delavil, traitor
To friend and goodness. Unchaste, impious woman,
False to all faith and true conjugal love;
There’s met a serpent and a crocodile,
A Sinon and a Circe. Oh, to what
May I compare you?——Out, my sword!
I’ll act a noble execution
On two unmatched for sordid villainy—
I left it in my chamber, and thank Heaven
That I did so! it hath prevented me
From playing a base hangman. Sin securely,
Whilst I, although for many yet less faults,
Strive hourly to repent me! I once loved her,
And was to him entire. Although I pardon,
Heaven will find time to punish: I’ll not stretch
My just revenge so far as once by blabbing
To make your brazen impudence to blush—
Damn on—revenge too great; and, to suppress
Your souls yet lower, without hope to rise,
Heap Ossa upon Pelion. You have made me
To hate my very country, because here bred
Near two such monsters. First I’ll leave this house,
And then my father’s; next I’ll take my leave,
Both of this clime and nation, travel till
Age snow upon this head. My passions now
Are unexpressible; I’ll end them thus:
Ill man, bad woman, your unheard-of treachery
This unjust censure on a just man give,—
To seek out place where no two such can live. [Exit.
SCENE IV.—Another Room in the House.
Enter DELAVIL in a nightgown, and Wife in night attire.
DELAVIL.
A happy morning now betide you, lady,
To equal the content of a sweet night.
WIFE.
It hath been to my wish, and your desire;
And this your coming by pretended love
Unto my sister Prue cuts off suspicion
Of any such converse ’twixt you and me.
DELAVIL.
It hath been wisely carried.
WIFE.
One thing troubles me.
DELAVIL.
What’s that, my dearest?
WIFE.
Why your friend Geraldine
Should on the sudden thus absent himself:
Has he had, think you, no intelligence
Of these our private meetings?
DELAVIL.
No, on my soul,
For therein hath my brain exceeded yours:
I, studying to engross you to myself,
Of his continued absence have been cause;
Yet he of your affection no way jealous,
Or of my friendship. How the plot was cast,
You at our better leisure shall partake:
The air grows cold, have care unto your health;
Suspicious eyes are o’er us, that yet sleep,
But with the dawn will open. Sweet, retire you
To your warm sheets; I now to fill my own,
That have this night been empty.
WIFE.
You advise well:
Oh, might this kiss dwell ever on thy lips
In my remembrance!
DELAVIL.
Doubt it not, I pray,
Whilst day frights night, and night pursues the day.
Good-morrow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.—A Room in Old LIONEL’S House.
ENTER REIGNALD WITH A KEY IN HIS HAND, YOUNG LIONEL, BLANDA, SCAPHA, RIOTER, AND TWO GALLANTS.
REIGNALD.
Now is the gaol delivery; through this back gate
Shift for yourselves; I here unprison all.
YOUNG LIONEL.
But tell me, how shall we dispose ourselves?
We are as far to seek now as at the first;
What is it to reprieve us for few hours,
And now to suffer? better had it been
At first to have stood the trial, so by this
We might have passed our penance.
BLANDA.
Sweet Reignald!
YOUNG LIONEL.
Honest rogue!
RIOTER.
If now thou fail’st us, then we are lost for ever.
REIGNALD.
This same sweet Reignald, and this honest rogue,
Hath been the burgess under whose protection
You all this while have lived, free from arrests:
But now the sessions of my power’s broke up,
And you exposed to actions, warrants, writs;
For all the hellish rabble are broke loose,
Of serjeants, sheriffs, and bailiffs.
ALL.
Guard us, Heaven!
REIGNALD.
I tell you as it is; nay, I myself
That have been your protector, now as subject
To every varlet’s pestle, for you know
How I am engaged with you——At whose suit, sir?
ALL.
Why didst thou start? [They all start.
REIGNALD.
I was afraid some catchpole stood behind me,
To clap me on the shoulder.
RIOTER.
No such thing;
Yet I protest thy fear did fright us all.
REIGNALD.
I knew your guilty consciences.
YOUNG LIONEL.
No brain left?
BLANDA.
No crotchet for my sake?
REIGNALD.
One kiss then, sweet;
Thus shall my crotchets and your kisses meet.
YOUNG LIONEL.
Nay, tell us what to trust to.
REIGNALD.
Lodge yourselves
In the next tavern; there’s the cash that’s left
Go, health it freely for my good success;
Nay, drown it all, let not a tester[47] scape
To be consumed in rot-gut:[48] I have begun,
And I will stand the period.
YOUNG LIONEL.
Bravely spoke.
REIGNALD.
Or perish in the conflict.
RIOTER.
Worthy Reignald—
REIGNALD.
Will, if he now come off well, fox you all;[49]
Go, call for wine; for singly of myself
I will oppose all danger; but I charge you,
When I shall faint or find myself distressed,
If I, like brave Orlando,[50] wind my horn,
Make haste unto my rescue.
YOUNG LIONEL.
And die in’t.
REIGNALD.
Well hast thou spoke, my noble Charlemain
With these thy peers about thee.
YOUNG LIONEL.
May good speed
Attend thee still!
REIGNALD.
The end still crowns the deed.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.—Outside Old LIONEL’S House.
Enter Old LIONEL, and the former Owner of the House.
OWNER.
Sir, sir, your threats nor warrants can fright me;
My honesty and innocency’s known
Always to have been unblemished; would you could
As well approve your own integrity
As I shall doubtless acquit myself
Of this surmisèd murder.
OLD LIONEL.
Rather surrender
The price I paid, and take into thy hands
This haunted mansion, or I’ll prosecute
My wrong, even to the utmost of the law,
Which is no less than death.
OWNER.
I’ll answer all,
Old Lionel, both to thy shame and scorn;
This [Snapping his fingers] for thy menaces!
Enter
Clown.
CLOWN.
This is the house, but where’s the noise that was wont to be in’t? I am sent hither to deliver a note to two young gentlemen that here keep revel-rout; I remember it, since the last massacre of meat that was made in’t; but it seems that the great storm that was raised then is chased now. I have other notes to deliver, one to Master Ricott—and—I shall think on them all in order. My old master makes a great feast for the parting of young Master Geraldine, who is presently upon his departure for travel, and, the better to grace it, hath invited many of his neighbours and friends, where will be old Master Geraldine, his son, and I cannot tell how many. But this is strange; the gates shut up at this time o’ day! belike they are all drunk and laid to sleep; if they be, I’ll wake them, with a murrain! [Knocks.
OLD LIONEL.
What desperate fellow’s this, that, ignorant
Of his own danger, thunders at these gates?
CLOWN.
Ho, Reignald! riotous Reignald, revelling Reignald!
OLD LIONEL.
What madness doth possess thee, honest friend,
To touch that hammer’s handle?
CLOWN.
What madness doth possess thee, honest friend,
To ask me such a question?
OLD LIONEL.
[To Owner.] Nay, stir not you.
OWNER.
Not I. The game begins.
OLD LIONEL.
How dost thou? art thou well?
CLOWN.
Yes, very well, I thank you; how do you, sir?
OLD LIONEL.
No alteration: what change about thee?
CLOWN.
Not so much change about me at this time as to change you a shilling into two testers.
OLD LIONEL.
Yet I advise thee, fellow, for thy good,
Stand further from the gate.
CLOWN.
And I advise thee, friend, for thine own good, stand not betwixt me and the gate, but give me leave to deliver my errand. Ho! Reignald, you mad rascal!
OLD LIONEL.
In vain thou thunder’st at these silent doors,
Where no man dwells to answer, saving ghosts,
Furies, and sprites.
CLOWN.
Ghosts! indeed there has been much walking in and about the house after midnight.
OLD LIONEL.
Strange noise oft heard?
CLOWN.
Yes, terrible noise, that none of the neighbours could take any rest for it. I have heard it myself.
OLD LIONEL.
You hear this? Here’s more witness.
OWNER.
Very well, sir.
OLD LIONEL.
Which you shall dearly answer.—Whooping?
CLOWN.
And hollooing.
OLD LIONEL.
And shouting?
CLOWN.
And crying out, till the whole house rung again.
OLD LIONEL.
Which thou hast heard?
CLOWN.
Oftener than I have toes and fingers.
OLD LIONEL.
Thou wilt be deposed of this?
CLOWN.
I’ll be sworn to’t, and that’s as good.
OLD LIONEL.
Very good still;—yet you are innocent.
Shall I entreat thee, friend, to avouch as much
Hereby to the next justice?
CLOWN.
I’ll take my soldier’s oath on’t.
OLD LIONEL.
A soldier’s oath—what’s that?
CLOWN.
My corporal oath; and you know, sir, a corporal is an office belonging to a soldier.
OLD LIONEL.
Yet you are clear? Murder will come to light.
OWNER.
So will your gullery[51] too.
Enter
ROBIN.
ROBIN.
They say my old master’s come home; I’ll see if he will turn me out of doors, as the young man has done. I have laid rods in piss for somebody; scape Reignald as he can; and with more freedom than I durst late, I boldly now dare knock. [Knocks.
OLD LIONEL.
More madmen yet! I think since my last voyage
Half of the world’s turned frantic. What dost mean?
Or long’st thou to be blasted?
ROBIN.
Oh, sir, you are welcome home; ’twas time to come,
Ere all was gone to havoc.
OLD LIONEL.
My old servant!
Before I shall demand of further business,
Resolve me why thou thunder’st at these doors,
Where thou know’st none inhabits?
ROBIN.
Are they gone, sir?
’Twas well they have left the house behind;
For all the furniture, to a bare bench,
I am sure is spent and wasted.
OLD LIONEL.
Where’s my son,
That Reignald, posting for him with such speed,
Brings him not from the country?
ROBIN.
Country, sir!
’Tis a thing they know not: here they feast,
Dice, drink, and drab; the company they keep,
Cheaters and roaring-lads, and these attended
By bawds and queans; your son hath got a strumpet
On whom he spends all that your sparing left;
And here they keep court, to whose damned abuses
Reignald gives all encouragement.
OLD LIONEL.
But stay, stay:
No living soul hath for these six months’ space
Here entered, but the house stood desolate.
ROBIN.
Last week I am sure, so late, and the other day,
Such revels were here kept.
OLD LIONEL.
And by my son?
ROBIN.
Yes, and his servant
Reignald.
OLD LIONEL.
And this house
At all not haunted?
ROBIN.
Save, sir, with such sprites.
OWNER.
This murder will come out.
ENTER
RICOTT.
OLD LIONEL.
But see, in happy time here comes my neighbour
Of whom he bought this mansion; he, I am sure,
More amply can resolve me.—I pray, sir,
What sums of moneys have you late received
Of my young son?
RICOTT.
Of him? None, I assure you.
OLD LIONEL.
What of my servant Reignald?
RICOTT.
But devise
What to call less than nothing, and that sum
I will confess received.
OLD LIONEL.
Pray, sir, be serious;
I do confess myself indebted to you
A hundred pound.
RICOTT.
You may do well to pay’t then, for here’s witness
Sufficient of your words.
OLD LIONEL.
I speak no more
Than what I purpose; just so much I owe you,
And ere I sleep will tender.
RICOTT.
I shall be
As ready to receive it, and as willing
As you can be to pay it.
OLD LIONEL.
But provided
You will confess seven hundred pounds received
Beforehand of my son.
RICOTT.
But, by your favour,
Why should I yield seven hundred pounds received
Of them I never dealt with? Why? For what?
What reason? What condition? Where or when
Should such a sum be paid me?
OLD LIONEL.
Why? for this bargain. And for what? this house.
Reason? because you sold it. The conditions?
Such as were agreed between you. Where and when?
That only hath escaped me.
RICOTT.
Madness all.
OLD LIONEL.
Was I not brought to take free view thereof,
As of mine own possession?
RICOTT.
I confess
Your servant told me you had found out a wife
Fit for your son, and that you meant to build;
Desired to take a friendly view of mine,
To make it your example: but for selling,
I tell you, sir, my wants be not so great
To change my house to coin.
OLD LIONEL.
Spare, sir, your anger,
And turn it into pity. Neighbours and friends,
I am quite lost; was never man so fooled,
And by a wicked servant! Shame and blushing
Will not permit to tell the manner how,
Lest I be made ridiculous to all:
My fears are, to inherit what’s yet left,
He hath made my son away.
ROBIN.
That’s my fear too.
OLD LIONEL.
Friends, as you would commiserate a man
Deprived at once both of his wealth and son,
And in his age, by one I ever tendered
More like a son than servant, by imagining
My case were yours, have feeling of my griefs
And help to apprehend him: furnish me
With cords and fetters; I will lay him safe
In prison within prison.
RICOTT.
We’ll assist you.
ROBIN.
And I.
CLOWN.
And all.—But not to do the least hurt to my old friend Reignald. [Aside.
OLD LIONEL.
His legs will be as nimble as his brain,
And ’twill be difficult to seize the slave,
Yet your endeavours, pray. Peace! here he comes.
Enter REIGNALD with a horn in his pocket; the rest withdraw,[52] excepting
Old Lionel.
REIGNALD.
My heart misgives, for ’tis not possible
But that in all these windings and indents[53]
I shall be found at last: I’ll take that course
That men both troubled and affrighted do,—
Heap doubt on doubt, and, as combustions rise,
Try if from many I can make my peace,
And work mine own atonement.
OLD LIONEL.
[Aside.] Stand you close,
Be not yet seen, but at your best advantage
Hand him, and bind him fast; whilst I dissemble
As if I yet knew nothing.
REIGNALD.
I suspect
And find there’s trouble in my master’s looks;
Therefore I must not trust myself too far
Within his fingers.
OLD LIONEL.
REIGNALD.
Worshipful sir.
OLD LIONEL.
What says my son i’ the country?
REIGNALD.
That to-morrow,
Early i’ the morning, he’ll attend your pleasure,
And do as all such duteous children ought—
Demand your blessing, sir.
OLD LIONEL.
Well, ’tis well.
REIGNALD.
I do not like his countenance. [Aside.
OLD LIONEL.
But, Reignald, I suspect the honesty
And the good meaning of my neighbour here,
Old Master Ricott. Meeting him but now,
And having some discourse about the house,
He makes all strange, and tells me in plain terms
He knows of no such matter.
REIGNALD.
Tell me that, sir!
OLD LIONEL.
I tell thee as it is: nor that such moneys,
Took up at use, were ever tendered him
On any such conditions.
REIGNALD.
I cannot blame
Your worship to be pleasant, knowing at what
An under-rate we bought it; but you ever
Were a most merry gentleman.
OLD LIONEL.
Impudent slave! [Aside.
But, Reignald, he not only doth deny it,
But offers to depose himself and servants
No such thing ever was.
REIGNALD.
Now, Heaven to see
To what this world is grown to! I will make him—
OLD LIONEL.
Nay more, this man will not confess the murder.
REIGNALD.
Which both shall dearly answer; you have warrant
For him already; but for the other, sir,
If he deny it, he had better—
OLD LIONEL.
Appear, gentlemen; [Softly.
’Tis a fit time to take him.
REIGNALD.
[Aside.] I discover
The ambush that’s laid for me.
OLD LIONEL.
Come nearer,
Reignald.
REIGNALD.
First, sir,
Resolve me one thing: amongst other merchandize
Bought in your absence by your son and me,
We engrossed a great commodity of combs,
And how many sorts, think you?
OLD LIONEL.
You might buy
Some of the bones of fishes, some of beasts,
Box-combs, and ivory-combs.
REIGNALD.
But, besides these, we have for horses, sir,
Mane-combs and curry-combs; now, sir, for men
We have head-combs, beard-combs, ay, and cox-combs too;
Take view of them at your pleasure, whilst for my part
I thus bestow myself.
[Whilst he climbs to the balcony, they come forward with cords and shackles.
CLOWN.
Well said, Reignald; nobly put off, Reignald; look to thyself,
Reignald.
OLD LIONEL.
Why dost thou climb thus?
REIGNALD.
Only to practise the nimbleness of my arms and legs, ere they prove your cords and fetters.
OLD LIONEL.
Why to that place?
REIGNALD.
Why! because, sir, ’tis your own house. It hath been
My harbour long, and now it must be my sanctuary;
Dispute now, and I’ll answer.
OWNER.
Villain, what devilish meaning hadst thou in’t,
To challenge me of murder?
REIGNALD.
Oh, sir, the man you killed is alive at this present to justify it:
“I am,” quoth he, “a trans-marine by birth”—
RICOTT.
Why challenge me
Receipt of moneys, and to give abroad
That I had sold my house?
REIGNALD.
Why! because, sir,
Could I have purchased houses at that rate,
I had meant to have bought all London.
CLOWN.
Yes, and Middlesex too; and I would have been thy half,
Reignald.
OLD LIONEL.
Yours are great,
My wrongs insufferable. As first, to fright me
From mine own dwelling, till they had consumed
The whole remainder of the little left;
Besides, out of my late stock got at sea,
Discharge the clamorous usurer; make me accuse
This man of murder; be at charge of warrants;
And challenging this my worthy neighbour of
Forswearing sums he never yet received;
Fool me, to think my son, that had spent all,
Had by his thrift bought land; ay, and him too,
To open all the secrets of his house
To me, a stranger! O thou insolent villain,
What to all these canst answer?
REIGNALD.
Guilty, guilty.
OLD LIONEL.
But to my son’s death, what, thou slave?
REIGNALD.
Not guilty.
OLD LIONEL.
Produce him then; i’ the meantime, and—
Honest friends, get ladders.
REIGNALD.
Yes, and come down in your own ropes.
OWNER.
I’ll fetch a piece,[54] and shoot him.
REIGNALD.
So the warrant in my master’s pocket will serve for my murder; and ever after shall my ghost haunt this house.
CLOWN.
And I will say, like Reignald, “this ghost and I am friends.”
OLD LIONEL.
Bring faggots; I’ll set fire upon the house
Rather than this endure.
REIGNALD.
To burn houses is felony, and I’ll not out till I be fired out; but, since I am besieged thus, I’ll summon supplies unto my rescue. [He winds the horn.
ENTER YOUNG LIONEL, RIOTER, TWO GALLANTS, BLANDA, SCAPHA, AND OTHERS.
YOUNG LIONEL.
Before you chide, first hear me; next your blessing,
That on my knees I beg. I have but done
Like misspent youth, which, after wit dear-bought,
Turns his eyes inward, sorry and ashamed.
These things in which I have offended most,
Had I not proved, I should have thought them still
Essential things, delights perdurable;
Which now I find mere shadows, toys and dreams,
Now hated more than erst I doted on.
Best natures are soon’st wrought on; such was mine;
As I the offences, so the offenders throw
Here at your feet, to punish as you please;
You have but paid so much as I have wasted,
To purchase to yourself a thrifty son,
Which I from henceforth vow.
OLD LIONEL.
See what fathers are,
That can three years’ offences, foul ones too,
Thus in a minute pardon; and thy faults
Upon myself chastise, in these my tears.
Ere this submission, I had cast thee off;
Rise in my new adoption. But for these—
CLOWN.
The one you have nothing to do withal; here’s his ticket for his discharge: another for you, sir, to summon you to my master’s feast,—for you, and you,—where I charge you all to appear, upon his displeasure and your own apperils.
YOUNG LIONEL.
This is my friend, the other one I loved;
Only because they have been dear to him
That now will strive to be more dear to you,
Vouchsafe their pardon.
OLD LIONEL.
All dear to me indeed,
For I have paid for’t soundly, yet for thy sake
I am atoned with all; only that wanton,
Her and her company, abandon quite;
So doing, we are friends.
YOUNG LIONEL.
A just condition, and willingly subscribed to.
OLD LIONEL.
But for that villain; I am now devising
What shame, what punishment remarkable
To inflict on him.
REIGNALD.
Why, master! have I laboured,
Plotted, contrived, and all this while for you,
And will you leave me to the whip and stocks;
Not mediate my peace?
OLD LIONEL.
Sirrah, come down.
REIGNALD.
Not till my pardon’s sealed; I’ll rather stand here
Like a statue, in the fore-front of your house,
For ever, like the picture of Dame Fortune
Before the Fortune play-house.[55]
YOUNG LIONEL.
If I have here
But any friend amongst you, join with me
In this petition.
CLOWN.
Good sir, for my sake! I resolved you truly concerning whooping, the noise, the walking, and the sprites, and for a need can show you a ticket for him too.
OWNER.
I impute my wrongs rather to knavish cunning
Than least pretended malice.
RICOTT.
What he did
Was but for his young master; I allow it
Rather as sports of wit than injuries;
No other, pray, esteem them.
OLD LIONEL.
Even as freely
As you forget my quarrels made with you,
Raised from the errors first begot by him,
I here remit all free. I now am calm,
But had I seized upon him in my spleen—
REIGNALD.
I knew that, therefore this was my invention,
For policy’s the art still of prevention.
CLOWN.
Come down, then, Reignald,—first on your hands and feet, and then on your knees to your master.—Now, gentlemen, what do you say to your inviting to my master’s feast?
RICOTT.
We will attend him.
OLD LIONEL.
Nor do I love to break good company,
For Master Wincott is my worthy friend
And old acquaintance—[REIGNALD descends.] Oh, thou crafty wag-string!
And couldst thou thus delude me? But we are friends.—
Nor, gentlemen, let not what’s hereto past,
In your least thoughts disable my estate:
This my last voyage hath made all things good,
With surplus too; be that your comfort, son.
Well, Reignald——But no more.
REIGNALD.
I was the fox,
But I from henceforth will no more the cox—
Comb put upon your pate.
OLD LIONEL.
Let’s walk, gentlemen.
[Exeunt.