Part 8 (1/2)

_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 your Husband in an age was rising by burnt figs, dreg'd with meal and powdered sugar, saunders, and grains, wormeseed and rotten Raisins, and such vile Tobacco, that made the footmen mangie; I in a year have put up hundreds inclos'd, my Widow, those pleasant Meadows, by a forfeit morgage: for which the poor Knight takes a lone chamber, owes for his Ale, and dare not beat his Hostess: nay more--

_Wid_. Good Sir no more, what ere my Husband was, I know what I am, and if you marry me, you must bear it bravely off Sir.

_Mor_. Not with the head, sweet Widow.

_Wid_. No sweet Sir, but with your shoulders: I must have you dub'd, for under that I will not stoop a feather. My husband was a fellow lov'd to toyle, fed ill, made gain his exercise, and so grew costive, which for that I was his wife, I gave way to, and spun mine own smocks course, and sir, so little: but let that pa.s.s, time, that wears all things out, wore out this husband, who in penitence of such fruitless five years marriage, left me great with his wealth, which if you'le be a worthie gossip to, be knighted Sir. [_Enter_ Savil.

_Morec._ Now, Sir, from whom come you? whose man are you Sir?

_Savil_. Sir, I come from young Master _Loveless_.

_Mor_. Be silent Sir, I have no money, not a penny for you, he's sunk, your Master's sunk, a perisht man Sir.

_Savil_. Indeed his Brother's sunk sir, G.o.d be with him, a perisht man indeed, and drown'd at Sea.

_Morec_. How saidst thou, good my friend, his Brother drown'd?

_Savil_. Untimely sir, at Sea.

_Morec_. And thy young Master left sole Heir?

_Savil_. Yes Sir.

_Morec_. And he wants money?

_Sav_. Yes, and sent me to you, for he is now to be knighted.

_Mor_. Widow be wise, there's more Land coming, widow be very wise, and give thanks for me widow.

_Widow_. Be you very wise, and be knighted, and then give thanks for me Sir.

_Savil_. What sayes your wors.h.i.+p to this mony?

_Mor_. I say he may have mony if he please.

_Savil_. A thousand Sir?

_Mor_. A thousand Sir, provided any wise Sir, his Land lye for the payment, otherwise--

_Enter_ Young Loveless _and_ Comrades _to them._

_Savil_. He's here himself Sir, and can better tell you.