The Scornful Lady | Page 6

your Brother's house is big
enough, and to say truth, h'as too much Land, hang it durt.
Young Lo. Why now thou art a loving stinkard. Fire off thy Annotations
and thy Rent-books, thou hast a weak brain Savil, and with the next
long Bill thou wilt run mad. Gentlemen, you are once more welcome to
three hundred pounds a year; we will be freely merry, shall we not?
Capt. Merry as mirth and wine, my lovely Loveless.

Poet. A serious look shall be a Jury to excommunicate any man from
our company.
Tra. We will not talk wisely neither?
Young Lo. What think you Gentlemen by all this Revenue in Drink?
Capt. I am all for Drink.
Tra. I am dry till it be so.
Poet. He that will not cry Amen to this, let him live sober, seem wise,
and dye o'th' Coram.
Young Lo. It shall be so, we'l have it all in Drink, let Meat and Lodging
go, they are transitory, and shew men meerly mortal: then we'l have
Wenches, every one his Wench, and every week a fresh one: we'l keep
no powdered flesh: all these we have by warrant, under the title of
things necessary. Here upon this place I ground it, The obedience of my
people, and all necessaries: your opinions Gentlemen?
Capt. 'Tis plain and evident that he meant Wenches.
Sav. Good Sir let me expound it?
Capt. Here be as sound men, as your self Sir.
Poet. This do I hold to be the interpretation of it: In this word
Necessary, is concluded all that be helps to Man; Woman was made the
first, and therefore here the chiefest.
Young Lo. Believe me 'tis a learned one; and by these words, The
obedience of my people, you Steward being one, are bound to fetch us
Wenches.
Capt. He is, he is.
Young Lo. Steward, attend us for instructions.

Sav. But will you keep no house Sir?
Young Lo. Nothing but drink Sir, three hundred pounds in drink.
Sav. O miserable house, and miserable I that live to see it! Good Sir
keep some meat.
Young Lo. Get us good Whores, and for your part, I'le board you in an
Alehouse, you shall have Cheese and Onions.
Sav. What shall become of me, no Chimney smoaking? Well Prodigal,
your Brother will come home.
[Exit.
Young Lo. Come Lads, I'le warrant you for Wenches, three hundred
pounds in drink.
[Exeunt omnes.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Lady, her Sister Martha, Welford, Younglove, and others.
Lady. Sir, now you see your bad lodging, I must bid you good night.
Wel. Lady if there be any want, 'tis in want of you.
Lady. A little sleep will ease that complement. Once more good night.
Wel. Once more dear Lady, and then all sweet nights.
Lady. Dear Sir be short and sweet then.
Wel. Shall the morrow prove better to me, shall I hope my sute happier
by this nights rest?
Lady. Is your sute so sickly that rest will help it? Pray ye let it rest then

till I call for it. Sir as a stranger you have had all my welcome: but had
I known your errand ere you came, your passage had been straiter. Sir,
good night.
Welford. So fair, and cruel, dear unkind good night. [Exit Lady. Nay
Sir, you shall stay with me, I'le press your zeal so far.
Roger. O Lord Sir.
Wel. Do you love Tobacco?
Rog. Surely I love it, but it loves not me; yet with your reverence I'le be
bold.
Wel. Pray light it Sir. How do you like it?
Rog. I promise you it is notable stinging geer indeed. It is wet Sir, Lord
how it brings down Rheum!
Wel. Handle it again Sir, you have a warm text of it.
Rog. Thanks ever promised for it. I promise you it is very powerful, and
by a Trope, spiritual; for certainly it moves in sundry places.
Wel. I, it does so Sir, and me especially to ask Sir, why you wear a
Night-cap.
Rog. Assuredly I will speak the truth unto you: you shall understand Sir,
that my head is broken, and by whom; even by that visible beast the
Butler.
Wel. The Butler? certainly he had all his drink about him when he did
it. Strike one of your grave Cassock? The offence Sir?
Rog. Reproving him at Tra-trip Sir, for swearing; you have the total
surely.
Wel. You told him when his rage was set a tilt, and so he crackt your
Canons. I hope he has not hurt your gentle reading: But shall we see

these Gentlewomen to night.
Rog. Have patience Sir until our fellow Nicholas be deceast, that is,
asleep: for so the word is taken: to sleep to dye, to dye to