Scene IV The Windmill Tavern
Enter Clem and Sailors on one side: on the other, Roughman, who draws and beats them off; then re-enter Clem, and the Sailors, with Bess.
Bess.
But did he fight it bravely?
Clem.
I assure you, mistress, most dissolutely:34 he hath run this sailor three times through the body, and yet never touched his skin.
Bess.
How can that be?
Clem.
Through the body of his doublet, I meant.
Bess.
How shame, base imputation, and disgrace,
Can make a coward valiant! Sirrah, you
Look to the bar.
Clem.
I’ll hold up my hand there presently. [Exit.
Bess.
I understand you came now from the Islands?
1st Sailor.
We did so.
Bess.
If you can tell me tidings of one gentleman,
I shall requite you largely.
1st Sailor.
Of what name?
Bess.
One Spencer.
1st Sailor.
We both saw and knew the man.
Bess.
Only for that, call for what wine you please.
Pray tell me where you left him.
2nd Sailor.
In Fayal.
Bess.
Was he in health? How did he fare?
2nd Sailor.
Why, well.
Bess.
For that good news, spend, revel, and carouse;
Your reckoning’s paid beforehand.—I am ecstasied,
And my delight’s unbounded.
1st Sailor.
Did you love him?
Bess.
Next to my hopes in Heaven.
1st Sailor.
Then change your mirth.
Bess.
Why, as I take it, you told me he was well;
And shall I not rejoice?
1st Sailor.
He’s well, in Heaven; for, mistress, he is dead.
Bess.
Ha! dead! Was’t so you said? Th’ hast given me, friend,
But one wound yet: speak but that word again,
And kill me outright.
2nd Sailor.
He lives not.
Bess.
And shall I?—Wilt thou not break, heart?
Are these my ribs wrought out of brass or steel,
Thou canst not craze35 their bars?
1st Sailor.
Mistress, use patience,
Which conquers all despair.
Bess.
You advise well.
I did but jest with sorrow: you may see
I am now in gentle temper.
2nd Sailor.
True; we see’t.
Bess.
Pray take the best room in the house, and there
Call for what wine best tastes you: at my leisure,
I’ll visit you myself.
1st Sailor.
I’ll use your kindness.
[Exeunt Sailors.
Bess.
That it should be my fate! Poor, poor sweetheart!
I do but think how thou becom’st thy grave,
In which would I lay by thee. What’s my wealth,
To enjoy’t without my Spencer? I will now
Study to die, that I may live with him.
Enter Captain Goodlack.
Goodlack.
[Aside.] The further I inquire, the more I hear
To my discomfort. If my discontinuance
And change at sea disguise me from her knowledge,
I shall have scope enough to prove her fully.
This sadness argues she hath heard some news
Of my friend’s death.
Bess.
[Aside.] It cannot, sure, be true
That he is dead; Death could not be so envious,
To snatch him in his prime. I study to forget
That e’er was such a man.
Goodlack.
[Aside.] If not impeach her,
My purpose is to seek to marry her.
If she deny me, I’ll conceal the will,
Or, at the least, make her compound for half—
Save you, [To Bess] fair gentlewoman.
Bess.
You are welcome, sir.
Goodlack.
I hear say there’s a whore here, that draws wine.
I am sharp set, and newly come from sea,
And I would see the trash.
Bess.
Sure, you mistake, sir.
If you desire attendance, and some wine,
I can command you both.—Where be these boys?
Goodlack.
Are you the mistress?
Bess.
I command the house.
Goodlack.
Of what birth are you, pray?
Bess.
A tanner’s daughter.
Goodlack.
Where born?
Bess.
In Somersetshire.
Goodlack.
A trade-fallen tanner’s daughter go so brave!36
Oh! you have tricks to compass these gay clothes.
Bess.
None, sir, but what are honest.
Goodlack.
What’s your name?
Bess.
Bess Bridges most men call me.
Goodlack.
Y’are a whore.
Bess.
Sir, I will fetch you wine, to wash your mouth;
It is so foul, I fear’t may fester, else:
There may be danger in’t.
Goodlack.
[Aside.] Not all this move her patience!
Bess.
Good, sir, at this time I am scarce myself,
By reason of a great and weighty loss
That troubles me.—[Notices the ring given to him by Spencer]—But I should know that ring.
Goodlack.
How! this, you baggage? It was never made
To grace a strumpet’s finger.
Bess.
Pardon, sir;
I both must and will leave you. [Exit.
Goodlack.
Did not this well? This will stick in my stomach.
I could repent my wrongs done to this maid;
But I’ll not leave her thus: if she still love him,
I’ll break her heart-strings with some false report
Of his unkindness.
Re-enter Clem.
Clem.
You are welcome, gentleman. What wine will you drink? Claret, metheglin, or muscadine? Cider, or perry, to make you merry? Aragoosa,37 or peter-see-me38? Canary, or charnico39? But, by your nose, sir, you should love a cup of malmsey: you shall have a cup of the best in Cornwall.
Goodlack.
Here’s a brave drawer, will quarrel with his wine.
Clem.
But if you prefer the Frenchman before the Spaniard, you shall have either here of the deep red grape, or the pallid white. You are a pretty tall gentleman; you should love high country wine: none but clerks and sextons love Graves wine. Or, are you a married man, I’ll furnish you with bastard,40 white or brown, according to the complexion of your bedfellow.
Goodlack.
You rogue, how many years of your prenticeship have you spent in studying this set speech?
Clem.
The first line of my part was “Anon, anon, sir;” and the first question I answered to, was loggerhead, or blockhead—I know not whether.
Goodlack.
Speak: where’s your mistress?
Clem.
Gone up to her chamber.
Goodlack.
Set a pottle of sack in the fire, and carry it into the next room. [Exit.
Clem.
Score a pottle of sack in the Crown, and see at the bar for some rotten eggs, to burn it: we must have one trick or other, to vent away our bad commodities. [Exit.