LUCRE

Why Hoard, Hoard, Hoard, Hoard, Hoard ; may I not pass in the state of quietness to mine own house, answer me to that before witness, and why? I'll refer the cause to honest euen-minded Gentlemen, or require the mere indifferences of the Law, to decide this matter, I God the purchase, true; was't not any men case? yes, will a wiseman stand as a Bawd, while another wipes his nose of the bargain, no, I answer no in that case. Hast thou the conscience to tell me so, without any impeachment to thy self? Vpbraidst thou me with Nephew? is all imputation laid upon me? what acquaintance have I with his folly's, if he riot, it's he must want it, if he surfeit, it's he must feel it: if he Drab it, it's he must lie by't, what's this to me? And I thee. So monstrously oppose thee? Then thou wouldst have as much power as the devil ha over thee. Aspic. Viper. What's thy business with me? What Countryman might this young Wit-good be? By my faith sir, she is Like to have a proper Gentleman and a comely, I'll give her that gift? I know him! dos not all the world know him, can a man of such exquisite qualities be hid under a bushel? Who young master Wit-good ! why believe it he has as goodly a fine living out yonder, what do you call the place? Hum, see Like a Beast if I have not forgotten the name, puh, and out yonder again, goodly grown woods and fair meado ves, pax ont, I can never hit of that place neither, he; why hes Wit-good of Wit-good-Hall, he, and unknow thing. Push, 'tis a tale, 'tis a tale. Why do you think i'faith he was ever so simple to mortgage his lands to his Uncle? or his uncle so unnatural to take the extremity of such a mortgage. Puh, never think it. Nay then you urge me, Cannot I tell that best that am his Uncle, Why how now in a Sown, man Can that be any harm to you sir. Passion of me not a jot, prethe come. Why am I a man of wisdom? This fellow's worth a matter of trust—come sir, why now thou'rt and honest lad: ah sirrah Nephew? And do you hear sir, take heed you use him with respect and duty. Ah Sirrah, that rich widow, 400. a year, beside I here she lays Claim to a title of a hundred more, this falls unhap pily that he should bear a Grudge to me now being likely to prove so rich, what is't tro that he makes me a Stranger for? hum, I hope he has not so much wit to apprehend that I coz ned him, he decaues me then? good heaven, who would have thought, it would ever have come to this pass, —yet he's a proper Gentleman i'faith, give him his endue—marry thats his Mortgage, but that I never mean to give him, isle make him rich enough in words if that be good, and if it come to a piece of money I will not greatly stick fort, there may be hope some of the widows lands too, may one day fallen upon me if things be carried wisely: now sir, where is he? Were those my Nephews words? When men grow rich they grow proud too, I perceive that, he would not have sent me such and answer once within this twelvemonth, see what 'tis when a men come to his lands, return to him again sir, tell him his Uncle desires his company for and hour I'll trouble him but and hour say, 'tis for his own good tell him, and do you hear sir, put worship upon him, go too, do as I bid you, he's Like to be a Gentleman of worship very shortly. Troth he uses his Uncle, discourteously now, can he tell what I may do for him, Goodness may come from ̄ me in a minute that comes not in Seven year again, he knows my humour I am not so usually good, 'tis no small thing that draws kind nes from ̄ me, he may know that, and he will; the chief cause that invites me to do him most good, is the sudden astonishing of old Hoard my Adversary, how pale his malice will look at my Nephews Advancement, with what a dejected Spirit he will behold his Fortune's, whom but last day, he proclaymde Rioter, Penurious Makeshift, despised Brothel Master; would, would, 'twill do me more secret Joy then my last purchase, more precious Comfort then all these widows Reuennewes,— Now Sir. — Yaue a salt Nephew, your a Stranger here, well Hea ven give you joy. Hah, we can hear. You might have known your Uncle's house i'faith, you and your widow, go too, you were too blame; If I may tell you so without offence. O pardon me, It was your will to have it kept from me I perceive now. O it Unkindness Nephew, fie, fie, fie. Puh, you cannot colour it i'faith Nephew. Yes faith will I, and welcome. Mass a firm reason indeed, Nay and thy credit. I and most of the goods too — Nay let Nephews be ruled as they list, they shall find their Uncle's house, the most natural place when all's done. Life, they may do any thing there man, and fear neither Beadle nor Somner, and Uncle's house! a very coale-harbour? Sirrah, I'll touch thee near now, hast thou so much interest in thy widow, that by a token thou couldst presently send for her? Go too, let me see that? George? Attend my Nephew? I love a life to prattle with a rich widow, 'tis pretty me thinks when our tongues go together, and then to promise much and perform little; I love that sport a life i'faith, yet I am in the mood now to do my Nephew some good, if he take me handsomely: what have you dispatched? Yet I must condemn you of unkindness Nephew. Yes faith must I; say your debts be many, your credi tors importunate, yet the kindness of a thing is all Nephew, you might have sent me close word on't, without the least dan her, or praeiudice to your Fortune's. How Nephew? let me not hear such a word again, I be seech you,—shall I be beholding to you? I charge you upon my love: you trouble no body but my self. Troth I'll never be friends with you while you live and you do. Why well said, there's some hope in thee when thou wilt be ruled, isle make it up fifty faith, because I see thee so re claimde; peace, here comes my wife with Same her tother hus bans Son. By the mass she's coming wife, let me see now how thou wilt entertain her. She's come indeed? Marry am I sweet widow, and his good Uncle he shall find me, I by this smack that I give thee, thou'rt welcome, wife, bid the widow welcome the same way again. Beside, I have no child of mine own to care for, she's my second wife, old, passed bearing, clap sure to him widow, he's Like to be my heir I can tell you? He knows it already and the knaves proud on't, jolly rich widows have been offered him here ith City, great mar chants wives, and do you think he would once look upon e'm? forsooth heel none, you are beholding to him ith Cou ̄ try then; ere we could be, nay, isle hold a wager widow if he were once known to be in town, he would be presently sought after, nay and happy were they, that could catch him first. O, there would be such running to and from widow, he should not pass the streets for e'm: he'ed be took up in one great house or other presently, fah, they know he has it & must have it; you see this house here widow, this house and all comes to him, goodly Rooms ready furnished, seeled with plaster of paris, and all hung above with cloth of arras. Nephew! Show the widow your house, carry her into all the Rooms, and bid her welcome,—you shall see widow—Ne phew?—strike all sure above and thou be'st a good boy—ah— The right way I warrant tee, a pox, art and ass, would I were in thy stead, get you up, I am a shamed of you, so: let e'm agree as they will now? many a match has been struck up in my house a this fashion, let e'm try all manner of ways still there's nothing Like and Uncle's house to strike the stroke in, —I'll hold my wife in talk a little, now Ginnee ; your son there goes a wooing to a poor Gentlewoman but of a 1000. portion, see my Nephew, a lad of less hope, strikes at four hundred a year in good Rubbish Nephew, good morrow, Nephew? How fares the widow, do's the meeting hold? I'll strike the stroke then for thee, no more days. Peace Nephew let me hear no more of e'm, it mads me, thou shalt prevent e'm all, no words to the widow of my coming hither, let me see, 'tis now upon nine, before twelve. Nephew we will have the bargain struck, we will faith boy. Who durst attempt it? How? Hoard, my deadly enemy, Gentlemen stand to me, I will not bear it, it's in hate of me, That villain seeks my shame, nay thrifts my blood, he owes me mortal malice, I'll spend my wealth on this despiteful plot, Ere he shall cross me and my Nephew thus. How now you treacherous Rascal? Ime sorry, I see then 'twas a mere plot. Well. The Devils Sanctuary, They shall not rest, I'll pluck her from his arms, Kind & deer Gentlemen, if ever I had seat within your breasts— Hoard ? Hoard, open the door, or we will force it open, Give us the widow. My friends assist me. Shall I in peace, speak one word with the widow? All spite and malice— I am the fool you laugh at, you are wise sir and know the seasons, well, come hither widow, why is it thus! O you have done me infinite disgrace, And your own credit no small Injury, Suffer mine enemy so despitefully To bear you from my Nephew, o, I had rather half my substance had been forfeit, and begged by some starum worser Rascal. Broke you for this? I thats it mads me, spites me? isle spend my wealth, ever he shall carry her so, because I know 'tis only to spite me, I this is it,—here Nephew, before these kind Gentlemen I deliver in your mortgage, my promise to the widow, see 'tis done, be wise your once more Master of your own, the widow shall per ceiue now, you are not altogether such a beggar as the world re putes you, you can make shift to bring her to 300. a year sir. But your own conscience can tell I had it dearly enough of you? Much money laid out, beside maney a journey to fetch the rend, I hope yowl think on't Nephew. Although to blind the widow and the world I out of policy doote, yet there's a conscience Nephew. When you are full possessed, 'Tis nothing to return it: Whats nothing so sir, is not he married to the widow. How? I should laugh at that. Would? Idem walk ten mile a foot to see that i'faith. A Quean i'faith? would, would, would. Would, would, would! Ime at best leisure now, send him in to me; Welcome good fellow. A good blunt honesty, I Like him well what is thy Mistress? Her name I prithee? Meddler? mass have I near herd of that widow? Cuds me, there 'tis indeed, thou hast put me into man ory, there's a widow indeed, ah that I were a batchiler again. Ah what is he I prithee? Would? Wit-good sayest thou? But I pray take me with you. My Nephew, by that mass my Nephew, I'll fetch out more of this i'faith, a simple Country fellow, I'll workte out of him, and is that Gentleman sayest thou presently to marry her? Inquire of him? if I might counsel thee, thou shouldst never trouble thy self further, inquire of him of no more but of me, I'll fit thee? I grant he has been youthful, but is he not now reclaimde; mark you that sir, has not your Mistress think you been wanton in her youth? if men be wags, are there not women wagtails? Do's not he return wisest, that comes home whipped with his own follies. Honest, and kind, come, we have delayed to long, Nephew take comfort; a Just cause is strong. You may stand by and smile at his old weakness, let me alone to answer him. I do vow it. O Master Hoard, your spite has watched the hour, your excellent at vengeance Master Hoard. Widow, believe it I vow by my best bliss, Before these Gentlemen I will give in The mortgage to my Nephew instantly, Before I sleep or eat. In the mean season, Will you protest before these Gentlemen, To keep your self, as you are, now at this present. My son in law, Same Freedom ? where's my Nephew? How! Alas poor gentleman. I prethe send him in. Well said,—you know I give it you but in trust. No. True, true: You can all witness Gentlemen, and you sir yeoman? Why didst not invite me to thy wedding dinner? Would, would, would: My Adversary evermore twittes me with my Ne phew, forsooth my Nephew: why may not a virtuous uncle have a dissolute Nephew? what though he be a Brotheller, a wast-thrift, a common Surfetter, and to conclude a beggar, must sin in him, call up shame in me: since we have no partly in their follies, why should we have partly in their infamies? for my strict hand towards his mortgage that I deny not, I con fesse I had and Uncle's penworth: let me see, half in half, true, I saw neither hope of his reclaiming, nor comfort in his being, and was it not then better bestowed upon his Uncle, then upon one of his Ants, I need not say bawd, for eve ry own knows what Aunt stands for in the last Translation now sir. And dost thou think it stands with my Judgement to do them injury, must I needs say the knowledge of this marriage comes from thee? am I a fool at fifty four? do I lack subtlety now that have God all my wealth by it? there's a leash of Angels for thee, come let me woe thee, speak where lie they? Fare thee well: there's more true honesty in such a Country Servingman, then in a hundred of our cloak compa nions, I may well call e'm companions, for since blue coats have been turned into cloaks, we can scarce know the man from the Master— George — You're not very busy now, a word with thee sweet widow— And yet so little rumourd. So, laugh Hoard, laugh at your poor enemy, do, the wind may turn you may be laughed at too, yes marry may you sir—would, would, would? The worst report you can hear of him I can tell you is that he has been a kind Gentleman, a liberal and a wor thie, who but lusty Wit-good, thrice Noble Wit-good. Tut, fear thou nothing, to morrows evening shall re solve the doubt. List hither,—keep the place secret, commend me to my Nephew, I know no cause tell him but he might see his Uncle? I'll have his money ready told for him, again he come down, let me see too, by'th mass I must present the widow with some Jewel, a good piece a plate or such a device, 'twill harten her on well, I have a very fair stranding cup, and a good High standing cup will please a widow above all other pieces. Nephew, what's that? Why what's the matter? Would, passion of me, a heavy welcome Gentlemen. O Nephew, let me salute you sir, your welcome Nephew Why say it did, you might have known my mind; I could have soon restored it. You must conceive it a right Nephew now, to do you good, I am content to do this. Why Nephew shall I trace thee still a liar? wilt make me mad is not yond thing the widow. Why and there's no time passed, and rather then my and uersary should thus thw'art my Hope's, I would — Nay more I will estate him In farther blessings, he shall be my heir I have no Son, I'll bind my self to that condition. He shall see all performed and bring you word. Nephew what cheer? alas poor Gentleman how art thou changed? call thy fresh blood into thy cheeks again, she comes— I shall have great joy there, when he has born away the widow. Probo tibi, Nephew: He that knows a woman to be a quean must needs be a knave, thou sayest thou knowest her to be one, ergo if she be a quean thou'rt a knave: I do believe you, here's your own honest servant, I'll take him along with h me. A word Nephew? A, heres a lesson Rioter for you. Sweet Gentlemen cheer him up, I will but fetch the mortgage, and return to you instantly. A good old boy,—wife Girnne? The wedding days at hand, prithee sweet wife, ex press thy housewifery, thou'rt a fine Cook I knowte, thy first husband married thee out of and Alderman's kitchen, go too, he raised thee for raising of past, what, here's none but friends, most of our beginnings must be winckt at, Gentlemen I enuite you all to my Nephews wedding against Thursday morning: He laughed at me, gentlemen, would, would, would: Then thou'rt a knave: