The Scornful Lady | Page 9

I now Savill? Nay, let's all bear it well, wipe Savill wipe, tears are but thrown away: we shall have wenches now, shall we not Savill?
Savill. Yes Sir.
Young Lo. And drink innumerable.
Savil. Yes forsooth.
Young Lo. And you'll strain curtsie and be drunk a little?
Savil. I would be glad, Sir, to doe my weak endeavour.
Yo. Lo. You may be brought in time to love a wench too.
Savil. In time the sturdie Oak Sir.
Young Lo. Some more wine for my friend there.
Elder Lo. I shall be drunk anon for my good news: but I have a loving Brother, that's my comfort.
Youn[g] Lo. Here's to you Sir, this is the worst I wish you for your news: and if I had another elder Brother, and say it were his chance to feed Haddocks, I should be still the same you see me now, a poor contented Gentleman. More wine for my friend there, he's dry again.
Elder Lo. I shall be if I follow this beginning. Well my dear Brother, if I scape this drowning, 'tis your turn next to sink, you shall duck twice before I help you. Sir I cannot drink more; pray let me have your pardon.
Young Lo. O Lord Sir, 'tis your modestie: more wine, give him a bigger glass; hug him my Captain, thou shalt be my chief mourner.
Capt. And this my pennon: Sir, a full carouse to you, and to my Lord of Land here.
Elder Lo. I feel a buzzing in my brains, pray God they bear this out, and I'le ne're trouble them so far again. Here's to you Sir.
Young Lo. To my dear Steward, down o' your knees you infidel, you Pagan; be drunk and penitent.
Savil. Forgive me Sir, and I'le be any thing.
Young Lo. Then be a Baud, I'le have thee a brave Baud.
Elder Lo. Sir, I must take my leave of you, my business is so urgent.
Young Lo. Let's have a bridling cast before you go. Fill's a new stoupe.
Elder Lo. I dare not Sir, by no means.
Young Lo. Have you any mind to a wench? I would fain gratifie you for the pains you took Sir.
Elder Lo. As little as to the t'other.
Young Lo. If you find any stirring do but say so.
Elder Lo. Sir, you are too bounteous, when I feel that itching, you shall asswage it Sir, before another: this only and Farewell Sir. Your Brother when the storm was most extream, told all about him, he left a will which lies close behind a Chimney in the matted Chamber: and so as well Sir, as you have made me able, I take my leave.
Young Lo. Let us imbrace him all: if you grow drie before you end your business, pray take a baite here, I have a fresh hogshead for you.
Savil. You shall neither will nor chuse Sir. My Master is a wonderfull fine Gentleman, has a fine state, a very fine state Sir, I am his Steward Sir, and his man.
Elder Lo. Would you were your own sir, as I left you. Well I must cast about, or all sinks.
Savil. Farewell Gentleman, Gentleman, Gentleman.
Elder Lo. What would you with me sir?
Savil. Farewell Gentleman.
Elder Lo. O sleep Sir, sleep. [Exit Elder Lo.
Young Lo. Well boyes, you see what's faln, let's in and drink, and give thanks for it.
Capt. Let's give thanks for it.
Young Lo. Drunk as I live.
Savil. Drunk as I live boyes.
Young Lo. Why, now thou art able to discharge thine office, and cast up a reckoning of some weight; I will be knighted, for my state will bear it, 'tis sixteen hundred boyes: off with your husks, I'le skin you all in Sattin.
Capt. O sweet Loveless!
Savil. All in Sattin? O sweet Loveless!
Young Lo. March in my noble Compeeres: and this my Countess shall be led by two: and so proceed we to the Will. [Exeunt.
Enter Morecraft the Usurer, and Widow.
Morec. And Widow as I say be your own friend: your husband left you wealthy, I and wise, continue so sweet duck, continue so. Take heed of young smooth Varlets, younger Brothers: they are worms that will eat through your bags: they are very Lightning, that with a flash or two will melt your money, and never singe your purse-strings: they are Colts, wench Colts, heady and dangerous, till we take 'em up, and make 'em fit for Bonds: look upon me, I have had, and have yet matter of moment girle, matter of moment; you may meet with a worse back, I'le not commend it.
Wid. Nor I neither Sir.
Mor. Yet thus far by your favour Widow, 'tis tuffe.
Wid. And therefore not for my dyet, for I love a tender one.
Mor. Sweet Widow leave your frumps, and be edified: you know my state, I sell no Perspectives, Scarfs, Gloves, nor Hangers, nor put my trust in Shoe-ties; and where