Lord Beaufort’s house
Enter [Mistress George Cressingham disguised as] Selenger, [Sib].
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
You’re welcome, mistress, as I may speak it,
But my lord will give it a sweeter emphasis.
I’ll give him knowledge of you.
Exiturus.
[SIB]
Good sir, stay.
Methinks it sounds sweetest upon your tongue:
I’ll wish you to go no further for my welcome.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
Mine! It seems you never heard good music
That commend a bagpipe. Hear his harmony.
[SIB]
Nay, good now, let me borrow of your patience;
I’ll pay you again before I rise tomorrow.
If it please you —
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
What would you, forsooth?
[SIB]
Your company, sir.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
My attendance you should have, mistress, but that my lord expects it, and ’tis his due.
[SIB]
And must be paid upon the hour? That’s too strict; any time of the day will serve.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
Alas, ’tis due every minute, and paid, ’tis due again, or else I forfeit my recognisance, the cloth I wear of his.
[SIB]
Come, come, pay it double at another time, and ‘twill be quitted; I have a little use of you.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
Of me, forsooth! Small use can be made of me: if you have suit to my lord, none can speak better for you than you may yourself.
[SIB]
Oh, but I am bashful.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
So am I, in troth, mistress.
[SIB]
Now I remember me: I have a toy to deliver your lord that’s yet unfinish’d, and you may further me. Pray you, your hands, while I unwind this skein of gold from you; ‘twill not detain you long.
[She unwinds the skein around her wrists.]
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
You wind me into your service prettily; with all the haste you can, I beseech you.
[SIB]
If it tangle not, I shall soon have done.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
No, it shall not tangle if I can help it, forsooth.
[SIB]
If it do, I can help it. Fear not this thing of long length; you shall see I can bring you to a bottom.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
I think so too: if it be not bottomless, this length will reach it.
[SIB]
It becomes you finely, but I forewarn you, and remember it, your enemy gain not this advantage of you: you are his prisoner then, for look you, you are mine now, my captive manacled; I have your hands in bondage.
Grasps the skein between [her] hands.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
’Tis a good lesson, mistress, and I am perfect in it; another time I’ll take out this, and learn another. Pray you, release me now.
[SIB]
I could kiss you now, spite of your teeth, if it please me.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
But you could not, for I could bite you with the spite of my teeth, if it pleases me.
[SIB]
Well, I’ll not tempt you so far; I show it but for rudiment.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
When I go a-wooing, I’ll think on’t again.
[SIB]
In such an hour I learnt it. Say I should,
In recompense of your hands’ courtesy,
Make you a fine wrist-favour of this gold,
With all the letters of your name emboss’d
On a soft tress of hair, which I shall cut
From mine own fillet, whose ends should meet and close
In a fast true-love knot: would you wear it
For my sake, sir?
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
I think not, truly, mistress:
My wrists have enough of this gold already;
Would they were rid on’t. Yet, pray you, have done;
In troth, I’m weary.
[SIB]
And what a virtue
Is here express’d in you, which had lain hid
But for this trial. Weary of gold, sir?
Oh, that the close engrossers of this treasure
Could be so free to put it off of hand,
What a new-mended world would here be!
It shows a generous condition in you;
In sooth, I think I shall love you dearly for’t.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
But if they were in prison, as I am,
They would be glad to buy their freedom with it.
[SIB]
Surely no: there are that, rather than release
This dear companion, do lie in prison with it;
Yes, and will die in prison too.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
‘Twere pity but the hangman did enfranchise both.
Enter Beaufort.
BEAUFORT
Selenger, where are you?
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
E’en here, my lord. Mistress, pray you, my liberty; you hinder my duty to my lord.
Beaufort puts off his hat.
BEAUFORT
Nay, sir, one courtesy shall serve us both at this time. You’re busy, I perceive; when your leisure next serves you, I would employ you.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
You must pardon me, my lord; you see I am entangled here. Mistress, I protest I’ll break prison if you free me not; take you no notice?
[SIB]
Oh, cry your honour mercy! You are now at liberty, sir.
[She takes the skein off her wrists.]
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
[Aside] And I’m glad on’t; I’ll ne’er give both my hands at once again to a woman’s command; I’ll put one finger in a hole rather.
BEAUFORT
Leave us.
[MISTRESS CRESSINGHAM]
Free leave have you, my lord. [Aside] So I think you may have: filthy beauty, what a white witch thou art!
Exit [Mistress Cressingham].
BEAUFORT
Lady, y’are welcome.
[SIB]
I did believe it from your page, my lord.
BEAUFORT
Your husband sent you to me.
[SIB]
He did, my lord,
With duty and commends unto your honour,
Beseeching you to use me very kindly,
By the same token your lordship gave him grant
Of a new lease of threescore pound a year,
Which he and his should forty years enjoy.
BEAUFORT
The token’s true, and for your sake, lady
’Tis likely to be better’d, not alone the lease,
But the fee-simple may be his and yours.
[SIB]
I have a suit unto your lordship too
Only myself concerns.
BEAUFORT
‘Twill be granted, sure,
Tho’ it out-value thy husband’s.
[SIB]
Nay, ’tis small charge:
Only your good will and good word, my lord.
BEAUFORT
The first is thine confirm’d; the second then
Cannot stay long behind.
[SIB]
I love your page, sir.
BEAUFORT
Love him! For what?
[SIB]
Oh, the great wisdoms that
Our grandsires had! Do you ask me reason for’t?
I love him because I like him, sir.
BEAUFORT
My page!
[SIB]
In mine eye he’s a most delicate youth,
But in my heart a thing that it would bleed for.
BEAUFORT
Either your eye is blinded or your remembrance broken:
Call to mind wherefore you came hither, lady.
[SIB]
I do, my lord: for love, and I am in profoundly.
BEAUFORT
You trifle, sure. Do you long for unripe fruit?
‘Twill breed diseases in you.
[SIB]
Nothing but worms
In my belly, and there’s a seed to expel them;
In mellow, falling fruit I find no relish.
BEAUFORT
’Tis true, the youngest vines yield the most clusters,
But the old ever the sweetest grapes.
[SIB]
I can taste of both, sir,
But with the old I am the soonest cloy’d:
The green keep still an edge on appetite.
BEAUFORT
Sure you are a common creature.
[SIB]
Did you doubt it?
Wherefore came I hither else? Did you think
That honesty only had been immur’d for you,
And I should bring it as an offertory
Unto your shrine of lust? As it was, my lord,
’Twas meant to you, had not the slippery wheel
Of fancy turn’d when I beheld your page.
Nay, had I seen another before him
In mine eyes better [graced], he had been forestall’d.
But as it is — all my strength cannot help —
Beseech you, your good will and good word, my lord;
You may command him, sir, if not affection,
Yet his body, and I desire but that; do’t
And I’ll command myself your prostitute.
BEAUFORT
Y’are a base strumpet! I succeed my page?
[SIB]
Oh, that’s no wonder, my lord; the servant oft
Tastes to his master of the daintiest dish
He brings to him. Beseech you, my lord.
BEAUFORT
Y’are a bold mischief. And to make me your spokesman,
Your procurer to my servant!
[SIB]
Do you shrink at that?
Why, you have done worse without the sense of ill
With a full free conscience of a libertine.
Judge your own sin:
Was it not worse with a damn’d broking-fee
To corrupt [a] husband, state him a pander
To his own wife, by virtue of a lease
Made to him and your bastard issue, could you get ‘em?
What a degree of baseness call you this?
’Tis a poor sheep-steal[er] provok’d by want
Compar’d unto a capital traitor; the master
To his servant may be recompens’d, but the husband
To his wife never.
BEAUFORT
Your husband shall smart for this!
Exit Beaufort.
[SIB]
Hang him, do; you have brought him to deserve it:
Bring him to the punishment; there I’ll join with you.
I loathe him to the gallows! Hang your page too;
One mourning gown shall serve for both of them.
This trick hath kept mine honesty secure;
Best soldiers use policy: the lion’s skin
Becomes not the body when ’tis too great,
But then the fox’s may sit close and neat.
Exit.