The Works of John Dryden, Vol. II | Page 8

intend to deal by my husband like a gentleman, as they say?
Lov. Then I should beat him most unmercifully, and not pay him neither.
Fran. Come, you think to fobb me off with your jests, as you do my husband; but it won't be: yonder he comes, and company with him. Husband, husband! why, William, I say!
_Enter BIBBER, BURR, and FAILER, at the other end_.
Lov. Speak softly, and I will satisfy thee.
Fran. You shall not satisfy me, sir; pay me for what you owe me, for chamber-rent and diet, and many a good thing besides, that shall be nameless.
Lov. What a stygian woman's this, to talk thus? Hold thy tongue 'till they be gone, or I'll cuckold thy husband.
Fran. You cuckold him--would you durst cuckold him! I will not hold my tongue, sir.
Bib. Yonder's my guest; what say you, gentlemen? Shall I call him to go down with us?
Lov. I must make a loose from her, there's no other way. Save ye, Mr Failer; is your cousin Trice stirring yet? Answer me quickly, sir, is your cousin Trice yet stirring?
Fail. I'll go and see, sir. Sure the man has a mind to beat me; but I vow to gad I have no mind to be beaten by him. Come away, Burr. Will, you follow us.
Bib. I'll be with you immediately.
[Exeunt BURR and FAILER.
Lov. Who was that with Failer, Will?
Bib. A man at arms, that's come from Holland.
Lov. A man out at arms thou mean'st, Will.
Bib. Good, i'faith.
Fran. Aye, aye; you run questing up and down after your gambols, and your jests, William; and never mind the main chance, as they say: Pray get in your debts, and think upon your wife and children.
Lov. Think upon the sack at Carey-house, with the Abricot flavour, Will. Hang a wife; what is she, but a lawful kind of manslayer? Every little hug in bed is a degree of murdering thee: and for thy children, fear 'em not: thy part of 'em shall be taylors, and they shall trust; and those, thy customers get for thee, shall be gentlemen, and they shall be trusted by their brethren; and so thy children shall live by one another.
Bib. Did you mark that, Frances? There was wit now; he call'd me cuckold to my face, and yet for my heart I cannot be angry with him. I perceive you love Frances, sir; and I love her the better for your sake; speak truly, do you not like such a pretty brown kind of woman?
Lov. I do i'faith, Will; your fair women have no substance in 'em, they shrink in the wetting.
Fran. Well, you may be undone if you will, husband: I hear there are two or three actions already out against him: You may be the last, if you think good.
Bib. Tis true she tells me; I love your wit well, sir; but I must cut my coat according to my cloth.
Fran. Sir, we'll come by our own as we can; if you put us oft' from week to week thus.
Lov. Nay, but good landlady--
Fran. Will good landlady set on the pot, as they say; or make the jack go? then I'll hear you.
Bib. Now she's too much on t'other hand; hold your prating, Frances; or I'll put you out of your Pater Nosters, with a sorrow to you.
Fran. I did but lay the law open to him, as they say, whereby to get our money in: But if you knew how he had used me, husband!
Bib. Has he used you, Frances? put so much more into his bill for lodging.
Lov. Honest Will, and so he died[A]; I thank thee, little Bibber, being sober, and, when I am drunk, I will kiss thee for't.
[Footnote A: This expression seems proverbial.]
Bib. Thank me, and pay me my money, sir; though I could not forbear my jest, I do not intend to lose by you; if you pay me not the sooner, I must provide you another lodging; say I give you warning.
Lov. Against next quarter, landlord?
Bib. Of an hour, sir.
Lov. That's short warning, Will.
Bib. By this hand you shall up into the garret, where the little bed is; I'll let my best room to a better pay-master: you know the garret, sir?
Franc. Aye, he knows it, by a good token, husband.
Lov. I sweat to think of that garret, Will; thou art not so unconscionable to put me there? Why, 'tis a kind of little ease[B], to cramp thy rebellious prentices in; I have seen an usurer's iron chest would hold two on't: A penny looking-glass cannot stand upright in the window, that and the brush tills it: the hat-case must be disposed under the bed, and the comb-case will hang down, from the ceiling to the floor. If I chance to dine in my chamber, I must stay till I