Another street.
Enter Allwit.
ALLWIT
I’ll go bid gossips presently myself,
That’s all the work I’ll do, nor need I stir,
But that it is my pleasure to walk forth
And air myself a little; I am tied to nothing
In this business, what I do is merely recreation,
Not constraint.
Here’s running to and fro, nurse upon nurse,
Three charwomen, besides maids and neighbours’ children.
Fie, what a trouble I have rid my hands on;
It makes me sweat to think on’t.
Enter Sir Walter Whorehound.
SIR WALTER
How now, Jack?
ALLWIT
I am going to bid gossips for your worship’s child, sir,
A goodly girl, i’faith, give you joy on her,
She looks as if she had two thousand pound
To her portion, and run away with a tailor;
A fine, plump, black-eyed slut, under correction, sir,
I take delight to see her: Nurse!
[Enter a Dry Nurse.]
[DRY] NURSE
Do you call, sir?
ALLWIT
I call not you, I call the wet nurse hither,
Give me the wet nurse.
Exit [Dry Nurse]. Enter a Wet Nurse [carrying a baby].
Ay, ’tis thou,
Come hither, come hither,
Let’s see her once again; I cannot choose
But buss her thrice an hour.
[WET] NURSE
You may be proud on’t, sir,
’Tis the best piece of work that e’er you did.
ALLWIT
Think’st thou so, Nurse? What sayst to Wat and Nick?
[WET] NURSE
They’re pretty children both, but here’s a wench
Will be a knocker.
ALLWIT
Pup — sayst thou me so? Pup, little countess;
Faith, sir, I thank your worship for this girl,
Ten thousand times, and upward.
SIR WALTER
I am glad
I have her for you, sir.
ALLWIT
Here, take her in, Nurse,
Wipe her, and give her spoonmeat.
[WET] NURSE
[Aside] Wipe your mouth, sir.
Exit.
ALLWIT
And now about these gossips.
SIR WALTER
Get but two,
I’ll stand for one myself.
ALLWIT
To your own child, sir?
SIR WALTER
The better policy, it prevents suspicion,
’Tis good to play with rumour at all weapons.
ALLWIT
Troth, I commend your care, sir, ’tis a thing
That I should ne’er have thought on.
SIR WALTER
[Aside] The more slave;
When man turns base, out goes his soul’s pure flame,
The fat of ease o’erthrows the eyes of shame.
ALLWIT
I am studying who to get for godmother
Suitable to your worship: now I ha’ thought on’t.
SIR WALTER
I’ll ease you of that care, and please myself in’t.
[Aside] My love, the goldsmith’s daughter, if I send,
Her father will command her. — Davy Dahumma!
Enter Davy.
ALLWIT
I’ll fit your worship then with a male partner.
SIR WALTER
What is he?
ALLWIT
A kind, proper gentleman,
Brother to Mr. Touchwood.
SIR WALTER
I know Touchwood,
Has he a brother living?
ALLWIT
A neat bachelor.
SIR WALTER
Now we know him we’ll make shift with him.
Dispatch, the time draws near. Come hither, Davy.
Exit [with Davy].
ALLWIT
In troth, I pity him, he ne’er stands still.
Poor knight, what pains he takes — sends this way one,
That way another, has not an hour’s leisure —
I would not have thy toil, for all thy pleasure.
Enter two Promoters.
Ha, how now, what are these that stand so close
At the street corner, pricking up their ears,
And snuffing up their noses, like rich men’s dogs
When the first course goes in? By the mass, promoters,
’Tis so, I hold my life, and planted there
To arrest the dead corps of poor calves and sheep,
Like ravenous creditors that will not suffer
The bodies of their poor departed debtors
To go to th’ grave, but e’en in death to vex
And stay the corps, with bills of Middlesex.
This Lent will fat the whoresons up with sweetbreads
And lard their whores with lamb-stones; what their golls
Can clutch goes presently to their Molls and Dolls.
The bawds will be so fat with what they earn
Their chins will hang like udders by Easter eve,
And being stroked, will give the milk of witches.
How did the mongrels hear my wife lies in?
Well, I may baffle ‘em gallantly. — By your favour, gentlemen,
I am a stranger both unto the city
And to her carnal strictness.
FIRST PROMOTER
Good; your will, sir?
ALLWIT
Pray tell me where one dwells that kills this Lent.
FIRST PROMOTER
How, kills? [Aside to Second Promoter] Come hither, Dick, a bird, a bird.
SECOND PROMOTER
What is’t that you would have?
ALLWIT
Faith, any flesh,
But I long especially for veal and green sauce.
FIRST PROMOTER
[Aside] Green goose, you shall be sauced.
ALLWIT
I have half a scornful stomach,
No fish will be admitted.
FIRST PROMOTER
Not this Lent, sir?
ALLWIT
Lent, what cares colon here for Lent?
FIRST PROMOTER
You say well, sir;
Good reason that the colon of a gentleman,
As you were lately pleased to term your worship, sir,
Should be fulfilled with answerable food,
To sharpen blood, delight health, and tickle nature.
Were you directed hither to this street, sir?
ALLWIT
That I was, ay, marry.
SECOND PROMOTER
And the butcher belike
Should kill and sell close in some upper room?
ALLWIT
Some apple loft as I take it, or a coal house,
I know not which, i’faith.
SECOND PROMOTER
Either will serve.
[Aside] This butcher shall kiss Newgate, ‘less he turn up
The bottom of the pocket of his apron. —
You go to seek him?
ALLWIT
Where you shall not find him;
I’ll buy, walk by your noses with my flesh,
Sheep-biting mongrels, hand basket freebooters!
My wife lies in; a foutra for promoters!
Exit.
FIRST PROMOTER
That shall not serve your turn! What a rogue’s this;
How cunningly he came over us!
Enter a Man with meat in a basket.
SECOND PROMOTER
Husht, stand close.
MAN
I have ‘scaped well thus far; they say the knaves
Are wondrous hot and busy.
FIRST PROMOTER
By your leave sir,
We must see what you have under your cloak there.
MAN
Have? I have nothing.
FIRST PROMOTER
No, do you tell us that?
What makes this lump stick out then; we must see, sir.
MAN
What will you see, sir — a pair of sheets, and two
Of my wife’s foul smocks, going to the washers?
SECOND PROMOTER
O, we love that sight well, you cannot please us better.
[He takes the basket and opens it.]
What, do you gull us? Call you these shirts and smocks?
MAN
Now a pox choke you!
You have cozened me and five of my wife’s kindred
Of a good dinner; we must make it up now
With herrings and milk pottage.
Exit.
FIRST PROMOTER
’Tis all veal.
SECOND PROMOTER
All veal? Pox, the worse luck; I promised faithfully to send this morning a fat quarter of lamb to a kind gentlewoman in Turnbull Street that longs, and how I’m crossed.
FIRST PROMOTER
Let’s share this, and see what hap comes next then.
Enter another with a basket.
SECOND PROMOTER
Agreed, stand close again; another booty.
What’s he?
FIRST PROMOTER
Sir, by your favour.
[SECOND] MAN
Meaning me, sir?
FIRST PROMOTER
Good Mr. Oliver, cry thee mercy, i’faith.
What has thou there?
[SECOND] MAN
A rack of mutton, sir,
And half a lamb; you know my mistress’s diet.
FIRST PROMOTER
Go, go, we see thee not; away, keep close,
Heart, let him pass, thou’lt never have the wit
To know our benefactors.
[Exit Second Man.]
SECOND PROMOTER
I have forgot him.
FIRST PROMOTE
’Tis Mr. Beggarland’s man, the wealthy merchant
That is in fee with us.
SECOND PROMOTER
Now I have a feeling of him.
FIRST PROMOTER
You know he purchased the whole Lent together,
Gave us ten groats apiece on Ash Wednesday.
SECOND PROMOTER
True, true.
Enter a Wench with a basket, and a child in it under a loin of mutton.
FIRST PROMOTER
A wench.
SECOND PROMOTER
Why then, stand close indeed.
WENCH
[Aside] Women had need of wit, if they’ll shift here,
And she that hath wit may shift anywhere.
FIRST PROMOTER
Look, look, poor fool,
She has left the rump uncovered too,
More to betray her; this is like a murderer
That will outface the deed with a bloody band.
SECOND PROMOTER
[Taking her basket] What time of the year is’t, sister?
WENCH
O sweet gentlemen, I am a poor servant,
Let me go.
FIRST PROMOTER
You shall, wench, but this must stay with us.
WENCH
O, you undo me, sir;
’Tis for a wealthy gentlewoman that takes physic, sir,
The doctor does allow my mistress mutton.
O, as you tender the dear life of a gentlewoman,
I’ll bring my master to you, he shall show you
A true authority from the higher powers,
And I’ll run every foot.
SECOND PROMOTER
Well, leave your basket
Then, and run and spare not.
WENCH
Will you swear then
To me to keep it till I come?
FIRST PROMOTER
Now by
This light, I will.
WENCH
What say you, gentleman?
SECOND PROMOTER
What a strange wench ’tis. Would we might perish else.
WENCH
Nay then, I run, sir.
Exit.
FIRST PROMOTER
And ne’er return I hope.
SECOND PROMOTER
A politic baggage, she makes us swear to keep it;
I prithee, look what market she hath made.
FIRST PROMOTER
Imprimis, sir, a good fat loin of mutton;
What comes next under this cloth?
Now for a quarter of lamb.
SECOND PROMOTER
Now for a shoulder
Of mutton.
FIRST PROMOTER
Done.
SECOND PROMOTER
Why done, sir?
FIRST PROMOTER
By the mass,
I feel I have lost, ’tis of more weight, i’faith.
SECOND PROMOTER
Some loin of veal?
FIRST PROMOTER
No, faith, here’s a lamb’s head,
I feel that plainly, why yet I’ll win my wager.
SECOND PROMOTER
Ha?
FIRST PROMOTER
‘Swounds, what’s here?
SECOND PROMOTER
A child!
FIRST PROMOTER
A pox of all dissembling, cunning whores!
SECOND PROMOTER
Here’s an unlucky breakfast.
FIRST PROMOTER
What shall’s do?
SECOND PROMOTER
The quean made us swear to keep it, too.
FIRST PROMOTER
We might leave it else.
SECOND PROMOTER
Villainous strange;
Life, had she none to gull but poor promoters
That watch hard for a living?
FIRST PROMOTER
Half our gettings
Must run in sugar-sops and nurses’ wages
Now, besides many a pound of soap and tallow;
We have need to get loins of mutton still,
To save suet to change for candles.
SECOND PROMOTER
Nothing
Mads me but this was a lamb’s head with you,
You felt it; she has made calves’ heads of us.
FIRST PROMOTER
Prithee no more on’t, there’s time to get it up;
It is not come to mid-Lent Sunday yet.
SECOND PROMOTER
I am so angry, I’ll watch no more today.
FIRST PROMOTER
Faith, nor I neither.
SECOND PROMOTER
Why then I’ll make a motion.
FIRST PROMOTER
Well, what is’t?
SECOND PROMOTER
Let’s e’en go to the Checker
At Queenhive and roast the loin of mutton
Till young flood; then send the child to Branford.
[Exeunt.]