A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 64

W. RASH. When will your tongue be weary?

JOYCE. Never.

W. RASH. How! never? Come, talk, and I'll talk with you: I'll try the nimble footmanship of your tongue; And if you can out-talk me, your's be the victory.

[_Here they two talk and rail what they list; and then_ WILL RASH _speaks to_ STAINES.

ALL SPEAK. Ud's foot! dost thou stand by, and do nothing?

Come, talk, and drown her clamours.

[_Here they all three, talk, and_ JOYCE _gives over, weeping, and Exit_.

_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ GERALDINE.

GERA. Alas! she's spent, i' faith: now the storm's over.

W. RASH. Ud's foot! I'll follow her, as long as I have any breath.

GERT. Nay, no more now, brother; you have no compa.s.sion; you see she cries.

STAINES. If I do not wonder she could talk so long, I am a villain. She eats no nuts, I warrant her; 'sfoot, I am almost out of breath with that little I talked: well, gentle brothers, I might say (for she and I must clap hands upon't) a match for all this. Pray, go in; and, sister, salve the matter, collogue with her again, and all shall be well: I have a little business that must be thought upon, and 'tis partly for your mirth, therefore let me not (though absent) be forgotten: farewell.

W. RASH. We will be mindful of you, sir; fare you well.

GERA. How now, man! what, tired, tired?

W. RASH. Zounds, and you had talked as much as I did, you would be tired, I warrant. What, is she gone in? I'll to her again, whilst my tongue is warm: and if I thought I should be used to this exercise, I would eat every morning an ounce of licorish.[207] [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ LODGE, _the master of the prison, and_ HOLDFAST, _his man_.

LODGE. Have you summed up those reckonings?

HOLD. Yes, sir.

LODGE. And what is owing me?

HOLD. Thirty-seven pound, odd money.

LODGE. How much owes the Frenchman?

HOLD. A fortnight's commons.

LODGE. Has Spendall any money?

HOLD. Not any, sir; and he has sold all his clothes.

_Enter_ SPENDALL.

LODGE. That fellow would waste millions if he had 'em: Whilst he has money, no man spends a penny.

Ask him money, and if he say he has none, Be plain with him, and turn him out o' th' ward.

[_Exit_ LODGE.

HOLD. I will, sir. Master Spendall, my master has sent to you for money.

SPEND. Money! why does he send to me? Does he think I have the philosopher's stone, or I can clip, or coin? How does he think I can come by money?

HOLD. Faith, sir, his occasions are so great, that he must have money, or else he can buy no victuals.

SPEND. Then we must starve, belike. Ud's foot, thou see'st I have nothing left that will yield me two shillings.

HOLD. If you have no money, you'd best remove into some cheaper ward.

SPEND. What ward should I remove in?

HOLD. Why, to the twopenny ward; it's likeliest to hold out with your means; or, if you will, you may go into the hole, and there you may feed, for nothing.

SPEND. Ay, out of the alms-basket, where charity appears in likeness of a piece of stinking fish, such as they beat bawds with when they are carted.

HOLD. Why, sir, do not scorn it; as good men as yourself have been glad to eat sc.r.a.ps out of the alms-basket.

SPEND. And yet, slave, thou in pride wilt stop thy nose, Screw, and make faces, talk contemptibly of it, And of the feeders, surly groom.

_Enter_ FOX.

HOLD. Well, sir, your malapertness will get you nothing.--Fox!

FOX. Here.

HOLD. A prisoner to the hole: take charge of him, and use him as scurvily as thou canst. You shall be taught your duty, sir, I warrant you.

SPEND. Hence, slavish tyrants, instruments of torture!

There is more kindness yet in wh.o.r.es than you; For when a man hath spent all, he may go And seek his way, they'll kick him out of doors, Not keep him in as you do, and enforce him To be the subject of their cruelty.

You have no mercy; but be this your comfort, The punishment and tortures which you do Inflict on men, the devils shall on you.

HOLD. Well, sir, you may talk, but you shall see the end, and who shall have the worst of it.

[_Exit_ HOLDFAST.

SPEND. Why, villain, I shall have the worst, I know it, And am prepar'd to suffer like a stoic; Or else (to speak more properly) like a stock; For I have no sense left. Dost thou think I have?

FOX. Zounds, I think he's mad.

SPEND. Why, thou art in the right; for I am mad, indeed, And have been mad these two years. Dost thou think I could have spent so much as I have done In wares and credit, had I not been mad?

Why, thou must know, I had a fair estate Which, through my riot, I have torn in pieces, And scatter'd amongst bawds, buffoons, and wh.o.r.es, That fawn'd on me, and by their flatteries Rock'd all my understanding faculties Into a pleasant slumber; where I dreamt Of nought but joy and pleasure: never felt How I was lull'd in sensuality, Until at last affliction waked me, And, lighting up the taper of my soul, Led me unto myself, where I might see A mind and body rent with misery. [_A prisoner within._

PRIS. Harry Fox! Harry Fox!

FOX. Who calls?

_Enter_ PRISONER.